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Volume  the  Eleventh, 


T,  Smart,Langliome,Bruce,  Chatter  ton, 
(Graeme,  Glover,L  ovibond,  Penrose,Miclde ,  Jag-o ,  S  co  tt  /) 


X,  O  l^D  O 


i  //.VBeU  ^-Bradfute 


66502.5 


THE 


OF   THE 


PREFACES, 


BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  CRITICAL, 


*Y  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.S. 


VOLUME  ELEVENTH. 

Containing 

WILKIE, 

GLOVER, 

1            JOHNSON, 

.,        DODSLEY, 

SHAW, 

WHITEHEAD, 

(w.) 

SMART, 

LOVIBOND, 

JENYNS, 

1ANGHORNE, 

PENROSE, 

LOGAN, 

BRUCE, 

MICKLE, 

WARTOK, 

CHATTERTOK, 

JAGO, 

COTTON,  AND 

OKJUtE, 

SCOTT, 

BLACKLOCK. 

LONDON: 

PRINTED  FOR  JOHN  &  ARTHUR  ARCH  ',   AND  FOR  BELL  &  BRADSUTlj 
AND  J.  MUNDELL  &  Co.  EDINBURGH. 


THE  LIFE  OF  WILKIE. 


Or  the  perfonal  hlftory  of  WILKIE,  «  the  Scottifli  Homer,"  there  is  no  written  memorial. 
Though  his  writings  are  not  more  diftinguiflied  for  leaning  and  genius,  than  hi,  life  was  remark- 
able  fV  originality  of  manners,  his  name  is  n.-t  to  be-  found  in  any  collection  of  literary  biography. 
In  1783,  a  defign  was  formed  of  writing  his  life,  to  be  prefixed  to  a  new  edition  of  hi,  poems, 
by  the  Rev.  Dr.  William  Fhomfon,  whofr  abilities,  in  other  literary  ,  rovinces,  have  juftly  obtained 
him" the  fandlion  of  public  applaufe.  In  the  yrofccution  of  this  dt'fign,  Dr.  Fhomfon  was  encou- 
raged,  by  the  approbation  of  the  late  Earl  of  Liuderdale,  and  affixed  by  information  obtained  by 
Mr.  Andrew  Dalzel,  Profeflbr  of  Greek  in  the  Univerfity  of  Edinburgh,  from  his  couGn,  the  Rev. 
Robert  Lifton,  minifter  of  A!>eruour,  the  Rev.  James  Robcrtfon,  minifter  of  Ratho,  and  the  Rcvl 
Dr.  Thomas  Robertfori,  minifter  of  Dalmeny.  After  having  made  feme  progrefs  in  digefting  the 
materials,  the  intended  edition  of  his  poems  not  meeting  with  fuitable  encouragement,  Dr. 
Thomfbn  was  compelled  to  dcfift ;  and  his  friends  are  difapp  inted  in  the  hope  of  feeing  juftice 
done  to  his  memory,  by  the  fame  mafterly  pen  that  has  enriched  Englifli  literatuie  by  the 
"  Continuation  of  VVatfon's  Hiilory  of  Philip  III."  the  "  Tranflation  of  Cuningham's  Hillory  of 
Great  Britain,"  and  other  ingenious  and  elegant  performances. 

It  is  with  becoming  diffidence  the  prefent  writer  takes  upon  him  a  talk  which  has  been  de 
clined  ky  Dr.  Thomfon;  but,  in  Colk&Trfg  the  works  of  this  poet  with  thofe  of  other  eminent 
poets  of  our  natio*,  it  is  incumbent  upon  hirri  to  prefix  fome  account  of  his  life,  which,  however 
inadequate  to  his  merits,  or  unfatisfadory  to  his  friends,  may  not  be  altogether  unwelcome  to  th* 
public,  who,  it  has  been  often  obfervcd,  will  always  take  an  intereft  in  thofe  perfona  from  whofe 
labours  'they  have  derived  profit  or  delight. 

The  fadls  ftated  in  the  prefent  account,  are  partly  taken  from  fome  detached  portions  of 
Dr.  Thomfon's  unfinifhed  narrative,  and  partly  from  the  original  information  furnifhed  by 
Mr.  Robertfon,  Mr.  Lifton,  arid  Dr.  Robertfon,  obligingly  communicated  to  the  prefent  writer, 
by  Dr.  Thomfon,  through  tht  kindnefs  of  Profeffnr  Dalzel,  whofc  laudable  endeavours  to  vindicate 
the  fame,  and  to  prefer ve  the  memory  of  this  poet,  entitle  him  to  the  gratitude  of  the  lovers  of 
claffical  and  polite  literature; 

William  Wilkie  was  born  at  Echlin,  in  the  parifh  of  Dalmeny,  in  the  county  of  Weft- Lothian, 
Odtober  5.  1721*  Hi-  great-grandfather  was  a  younger  fon  of  the  family  of  Wilkie,  of  Ratho- 
byres,  in  the  parifh  of  Ratho,  one  of  the  oldcft  families  in  Mid-Lothian;  and  the  undoubted  chief 
of  the  Wilkies.  His  grandfather  rented'  the  farm  of  Echlin,  and  purchafed  a  part  of  the  eftate  of 
Kathobyres^  which  he  tranfoiitted  with  the  farm  to  his  fon,  the  poet'»  father,  who  was  a  worthy, 
liberal,  and  intelligent  man,  never  opulent,  on  the  contrary,  poor,  and  rather  unfortnnato 
through  life.  His  hn-ther  was  a  woman  of  difti'nguifhed  prudence  and  underftanding,  and  able,  it 
is  Lid,  to  exprtfs  her  thoughts  in  the  mo  ft  grammatical  manner,  and  proper  wordb  on  every  fub- 
jed. 

He  received  his  early  education  at  the  parifh  fchool  of  Dalmeny,  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Riddel, 
a  very  refpcAable*and  fuccekful  teacher.  At  fchool,  he  obtained  the  reputation  of  a  boy  of  «cel- 
lent  parts,  and  on  many  occafion*  difcovcrcd  maik»  of  that  peculiarity  Wld  fertility  of  gcmui  that 

Co  remarkably  charaitcrifed  bis  future  life. 

0  iij 


vl  THELIFEOFWILKIE. 

He  difcovered  an  «arly  propenfity  to  the  ftudy  of  poetry,  and  began  to  write  verfes  in  his  tenth 
year,  as  appears  by  the  following  defcription  of  a  Storm,  written  at  that  age,  and  publifhed  by  Dr. 
Robertfon,  in  the  pth  vol.  of"  The  Statiflical  Account  of  Scotland,"  which  muft  be  allowed  to  be 
a  very  correct  and  manly  performance  for  a  boy  of  ten. 

What  penetrating  mind  can  rightly  form 
A  faint  idea  of  a  raging  ftorm  ? 
Who  can  exprefs  of  elements  the  war; 
And  noify  thunder  roaring  from  afar  ? 
This  fubje<5t  is  fuperior  to  my  (kill ; 
Yet  PH  begin,  to  (how  I  want  not  will. 

A  pitchy  cloud  difplays  itfelf  on  high ; 
And  with  its  fable  mantle  veils  the  flcy : 
Fraught  with  the  magazine  of  heaven  does  throw 
Bolts  barb'd  with  fire  upon  the  world  below. 
All  nature  fhakes  and  the  whole  heavens  fmoke  ; 
Nor  can  the  grofs  black  cloud  fuft.'.in  the  fhock  : 

But  op'ning  from  his  magazines  doth  roll,  : 

Thick  fmoke  and  Sanies  of  fire  from  pole  to  pole. 
Thence  hail,  fnow,  vapour,  mix'd  with  flames  of  fire, 
With  conjunct  force  againlt  the  earth  confpire. 
Monfters  ef  fea  and  land  do  loudly  roar, 
And  make  the  deep  refound  from  fhore  to  fhore. 
The  fpumy  wates  come  rolling  from  afar, 
And  with  loud  jars  declare  the  wat'ry  war. 
They  upward  mount,  and  raife  their  crefts  on  high, 
And  beat  the  middle  regions  of  the  flcy. 
Downwards  they  fall  upon  the  fwelling  deep, 
And  tofs  the  rigging  of  fome  low  funk  fhip  : 
Upwards  they  tow'r  and  falling  down  again, 
They  bury  men  and  cargo  in  the  main. 
The  boiling  de#p  doth  from  her  low  funk  cell 
Throw  out  black  waves  refembling  thofe  of  hell. 
They  forward  roll  and  hideoufly  do  roar, 
And  vent  their  rage  againft  the  rocky  fhore. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  was  fent  to  the  Univerfity  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  difh'nguifhed  him- 
felf  in  the  different  claffes  of  languages,  philofophy  and  theology ;  and  formed  many  of  thofe 
friendfhips  and  connections  which  afforded  him  much  happinefs  through  life. 

Among  the  number  of  his  fellow  collegians,  with  whom  he  lived  in  habits  of  the  clofeft  inti 
macy,  were  Dr.  Robertfon,  Mr.  John  Home,  Dr.  M'Ghie,  and  Profeffor  Cleghorn.  Dr.  Ro- 
beitfon  afterwards  and  Mr.  Home  figured  high  in  the  literary  world.  Dr.  M'Ghie  went  to  Lon 
don,  obtained  the  friendfhip  of  Dr.  Johnfon,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Ivy-lane  Club.  Profeffor 
Cleghorn,  a  man  of  great  promife,  died  young. 

His  intellectual  faculties  of  every  fort  now  began  to  make  a  rapid  progrefs,  the  caufe  of  which 
nay,  in  a  great  meafure,  be  attributed  to  the  converfation  of  the  companions  he  chanced  to  find 
in  the  univerfity,  and  to  the  focieties  which,  about  that  time,  began  to  be  formed  among  the  ftu- 
dents  for  their  mutual  improvement  in  literary  compofuion,  philofophkal  diiquifitien,  and  public 
fpeaking,  in  which  his  talents  found  ample  fcope  and  encouragement. 

His  converfation  with  men  of  tafte  and  learning,  and  the  excitement  which  their  example  would 
give  to  his  emulation,  would  do  more  towards  the  improvement  of  his  mind  than  any  lectures  he 
could  attend,  or  any  mode  of  ftudy  he  could  purfue.  The  prefent  writer  would  not,  however,  have 
it  thought,  that  he  conceives  either  of  thefe  to  be  without  their  ufe ;  he  would  only  affirm,  that 
they  hold  a  fecondary  place,  when  compared  with  the  fociety  of  i'uch  men  as  it  was  his  felicity  to 
£nd  contemporary  fludents  in  the  univerfity. 

It  was  likewife  very  fortunate  for  him,  that,  during  the  courfe  of  his  education  at  Edinburgh,  he 
fcecame  known  to  David  Hume  and  Dr.  Fergufon,  and,  at  a  later  period,  to  Qr-  Smith,  by  all  of 
whom  he  was  he'd  in  a  higher  light  than  a  common  acquaintance. 

In  literary  focieties,  and  private  tonverfation,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  being  thoroughly  ac« 
with  the  capacities,  as  well  as  {he  tempers  ar.d  difpofitioas  of  his  contemporaries. 


THE   LIFE   OF   WILKIE.  ^ 

Of  all  his  acquaintance,  he  regarded  Dr  Smith  with  the  greateft  admiration,  and  Dr.  Fergufon 
with  the  greateit  affetfion.  He  confidcred  Dr.  Smith  as  a  fuperior  genius  to  Mr.  Hume.  He 
pofiefled,  in  his  opinion,  equal  learning,  and  greater  originality  and  invention  ;  for  what  may  appear 
ftrange,  he  by  no  means  confidered  Mr.  Hume  as  an  original  or  inventive  genius.  The  fubtlety  of  hit 
reafoning,  the  extent  of  his,  reading,  the  depth  and  folidity  of  h,s  reflections,  he  greatly  admired, 
but  ftill  he  thought  that  he  did  not  draw  fo  much  as  Dr.  Smith,  or  even  Lord  Karaes,  from  ths 
ftores  of  his  own  mind.  He  faid  that  he  trod  in  the  footfteps  of  Bol  ngbroke,  and  certain  French 
philofophers ;  that  he  greedily  imbibed  their  ideas,  and  was  ftudious  to  glean  what  they  left  behind 
them  ;  that  he  informed  himfelf  with  great  induftry  of  the  opinions  and  views  «f  great  men,  in 
all  ages  of  the  world,  compared  them  together,  preferred  what  he  thought  beft,  drew  corollaries 
from  their  reafoning,  and,  on  the  whole,  exhibited  a  ftriking  example  of  induftry  and  of  judgment. 
But  he  availed  himfelf  of  the  ignorance  of  the  world  to  pafs  that  as  new,  which  in  reality  was  old ; 
and  that  his  ideas  were  either  borrowed  from  other  writers,  or  deductions  and  improvements  on 
conclufions  already  eftabliihed. 

Such  was  the  opinion  entertained  by  Wilkie  concerning  Mr.  Hume.  Invention  is  a  power  which 
muft  needs  ftand  high  in  the  admiration  of  a  poet,  and  Wilkie  fpoke  like  a  poet,  when  he  magnified 
its  praife,  as  if  it  had  been  a  divine  impulfe,  an  immediate  infpiration,  which  operated  its  effects 
inftantaneoufly,  and  without  that  leifurely  and  gradual  procefs  which  takes  place  in  every  produc 
tion  of  human  genibs. 

The  ideas  of  men  are  linked  together  by  a  chain  of  aflbciation.  Wilkie,  perceiving,  or  thinking 
that  he  perceived  the  fteps  by  which  Mr.  Hume  was  led  to  the  doctrines  he  advanced,  but  not  dif- 
cerning,  in  like  manner,  the  procefs  by  which  Dr.  Smith  was  led  to  the  formation  of  his  theories, 
pronounced  the  former  a  man  of  induftry  and  judgment,  and  the  latter  a  man  of  induftry  and 
genius. 

It  certainly  matters  not  whether  a  hint  be  derived  from  a  book,  or  from  converfation,  or  an  ac 
cidental  occurrence  in  the  material  or  moral  world.  Every  idea  is  derivative.  What  is  faid  of 
genius  and  invention,  in  contradiftin&ion  to  memory  and  judgment,  is  commonly  vague  and  inde 
finite 

Wilkie  appears  te  have  had  a  predilection  for  Dr.  Smith,  otherwife  in  the  exuberance  of  his  own 
invention,  he  might  have  difcovered  or  conjectured  that  the  firft  hints  of  the  "  Theory  of  Morai 
Sentiments,"  a  theory  fo  amiable,  fo  ufeful  in  life,  and  to  a  certain  and  important  extent,  fo  juft, 
may  have  been  originally  fuggefted  by  fome  thoughts  in  the  "  DC  Augmtntls  Scientiarum"  of  Bacon, 
or  from  Dr.  Butler's  "  Sermons  on  Human  Nature." 

While  he  was  profecuting  his  literary  ftudies  at  Edinburgh,  his  father  died,  and  left  him  no  other 
inheritance  than  the  flock  and  unexpired  leafe  of  his  farm  at  rhe  Fifher's  Tryfte,  about  two  mile! 
weft  fn  m  that  city,  and  the/charge  of  his  three  fitters;  having  fold  his  property  at  Rathobyres,  ft 
fhort  time  before  his  death,  and  applied  the  purchafe-money  to  the  payment  of  his  debts. 

For  the  occupation  of  a  farmer,  which  this  melancholy  event  devolved  upon  him,  he  was  emi 
nently  qualified,  both  by  his  habits  of  fpeculation  and  experience;  having  been  accuftomed,  as  he 
grew  up,  to  divide  with  his  father  the  bufinefs  of  the  farm,  which,  as  is  ufual  in  thofc  of  fmall  ex 
tent,  was  chiefly  cultivated  by  the  common  labour  of  the  family. 

Confiding,  however,  in  the  powers  of  vr.ich  he  was  confcious,  he  feems  not  to  have  trufted  fof 
his  future  maintenance  to  his  exertions  as  a  farmery  for,  while  he  managed  hi$  farm,  he  profccut- 
ed  his  ftudies  in  divinity,  and  commenced  preacher  of  the  gofpel. 

The  narrownefs  of  his  circumftanccs  obliged  him  to  live  with  great  economy,  and  it  was  during 
this  period,  owing  particularly  to  the  neceffities  of  his  fit  nation,  that  he  contraded  an  uncommon 
degree  of  parfimony,  which  he  practifcd  more  than  was  neceffary  in  his  future  life. 

About  this  time  one  of  his  fifters  was  married  to  Mr.  John  Cleghorn,  farmer  at  Grantou,  in 
the  parifh  of  Cramond,  a  man  of  ftrong  parts,  very  amiable  difpofition,  and  great  ability  in  his  pro-" 
feflion.  With  him  he  contracted  the  moft  intimate  habits  of  fricndfhip  and  correfpondencc  In 
ail  matter*  of  hufbandry  and  common  life,  be  quoted  Mr.  Cleghorn's  practice  and  majunu, 

#  iiij 


fiii  THE  LIFE    OF   WILKIE. 

ftandarc?  of  perfection  in  every  convcrfation.  He  was  his  moft  confidential  friend  through  life,  and 
they  died  about  the  fame  time. 

From  Mr.  Cleghorn  he  probably  derived  many  of  thofe  maxims  and  principles  in  hufbandry 
vhich  he  pradlifed  with  amazing  fuccefs  in  the  management  of  his  farm.  He  became  eminent  in 
many  branches  of  fcience ;  but  in  nothing  did  he  excel  more  than  in  a  thorough  and  profound 
knowledge  of  the  art  of  hufbandry.  He  ufcd  often  to  fay,  that  to  difcern  properly  the  real  qua 
lities  of  different  foils,  and  to  apply,  with  fuccefs,  the  culture  proper  for  each,  required  the  higheft 
exertion  of  the  human  underftanding. 

Though  he  was,  in  many  refpeCts,  the  moft  fpeculatiyo  and  fanciful  man  in  the  world,  yet  he 
Tvas  very  careful,  in  the  character  of  a  farmer,  to  avoid  the  chemical  theories,  and  to  adhere  to  the 
plain,  direct,  3*d  fure  road  of  experience.  He  was  fully  convinced  that,  to  open  the  earth  for 
the  admiffion  of  the  foftenng  influences  of  heaven,  and  to  return  into  her  lap  her  own  produce, 
Whether  in  the  form  of  vegetables  or  animals,  was  the  great  art  of  promoting  her  fertility,  and 
preparing  her  for  the  important  work  of  reproduction.  Dead  horfes,  dogs,  cats,  and  animals  of 
all  kinds,  he  was  at  pains  to  pick  up,  and  to  convert  them  into  a  pabulum  for  ufeful  vegetables. 
Every  thing  that  abounded  with  the  principles  of  vegetation  he  was  eager  to  add  to  his  dunghill. 
He  watched  his  people,  often  fhared  in  their  labour,  and  made  it  a  rule  to  encourage  good  fer- 
vants,  both  by  better  wages,  and  by  encomiums  and  little  premiums ;  but,  oh  no  account,  would 
fuffer  the  vicious,  or  the  flothful,  to  live  with  him  on  any  terms.  He  feemed  to  be'  particularly 
fuccefsful  in  the  culture  of  potatoes,  and  was  often,  from  this  circumftance,  denominated  the  Pata- 
tte-MiniJitr. 

In  this  courfe  of  life,  he  had  much  interconrfe  with  the  country  people  in  the  way  of  making 
bargains ;  from  which  he  took  occafion  to  make  many  curious  remarks  en  human  nature.'  There 
Was  nothing  about  the  lower  ranks  of  men  that  ftruck  him  fo  much  as  their  cunning.  "  I  caa 
raife  crops,"  he  would  exclaim,  "  better  than  any  of  my  neighbours;  tut  I  am  always  cheated  in 
the  market." 

In  the  midft^  of  all  thefe  operations  of  agriculture,  he  found  leifure  to  cultivate  the  ftudy  of  po 
lite  literature,  and  afpired  to  the  renown  of  an  epic  poet. 

There  is  not  a  doubt  that  poets  are  moved  by  the  divine  impulfe  <>f  the  "  heavenly  mufe  ;"  the 
"  fpirit  that  infpired  on  Horeb  the  choftn  fliepherd;"  the  "  ppwtr?  of  fona;"  the  "  phiiofophic 
power  of  melancholy;"  or  by  whatever  name  that  iavifible  caufe  is  called,  which  produces  that 
inward  thrilling  which  feeks  to  exprefs  itfelf  in  verfe  ;  yet  do  local  and  political  circumftancts  incline 
the  poet  to  ftir  up  the  gift  that  isjwithin  him  ;  and,  but  for  thefe  circumftances,  Wilkic  would 
not  perhaps  have  known  that  he  was  born  a  poet.  He  made  no  fcruple  of  confeffing,  that  he 
thought  it  good  policy  to  roufehis  poetical  talents,  and  to  liften  to  the  diiftates  of  the  "  powers  of 
fong." 

When  he  had  quitted  the  college,  and  found  himfelf  defticute  of  powerful  friends,  he  be 
gan  to  meditate  on  the  moft  probable  means  of  introducing  h;mfclf  to  the  notice  of  the  great. 
To  compofe  a  book  in  philofophy  would  be  doing  nothing  :  It  might  be  read  by  a  few  men  of 
learning,  moft  of  whom  had,  in  all  likelihood,  fixed  their  philofophical  creed,  and  imagined,  that 
whatever  was  contradictory  to  their  notions  was  falfe,  and  whatever  paffed  the  circle  of  their  know 
ledge,  fuperfluous.  He  once  intended  to  write  a  novel ;  but  that  fpecies  of  writing,  though  it  re 
quired  the  fineft  parts,  was  not  likely  to  lead  to  any  preferment.  The  world,  though  well  pleafei 
to  laugh  at  the  fancies  of  the  novelift,  would  not,  he  apprehended,  think  of  rewarding  him.  la 
the  whole  circle  of  fcience  and  art,  there  was  not  any  ftudy  that  appeared  to  him  at  once  fo  con 
genial  to  his  powers,  and  fo  conducive  to  his  intereft,  as  poetry.  He,  therefore,  determined  to  write 
an  epic  poem. 

Among  the  various  analogies  which  the  active  fancy  of  man  delights  to  trace  between  po 
litical  and  human  bodies,  there  is  none  more  ftriking  than  that  fimilarity  which  is  remark 
ed  between  their  different  geniufes  in  the  different  ftages  of  their  exiftence.  In  youth,  and 
in  manhood,  we  look  forward  to  fome  obje&  which  is  to  increafe  our  happinefs,  and  to  raife  our 


THE   LIFE   OF  WILKIE.  fc 

fame.  Animated  by  fuch  pleafing  hopes,  our  fpirits  are  lively,  and  our  purfuits  are  aclive  ;  but, 
in  more  advanced  years,  men  turn  back  their  attention  to  the  more  early  period  of  their  lives,  and 
are  fond  of  recollecting  and  relating  the  joys  and  the  achievements  of  th'eir  youth.  There  ii,  in 
like  manner,  a  time  when  nations  look  forward  to  future  glory,  when  they  arc  emulous  to  excel  in 
every  honourable  enterprife,  and  are  eager  to  ftrike  out  new  paths  in  fcienfie  and  art.  And  there 
is  alfo  a  time  when,  either  through  fatiety  or  defpair,  they  are  more  inclined  to  remember  what 
Las  been,  than  to  anticipate  what  fliall  be  ;  when  hiftory  becomes  the  favourite  ftudy,  and  is  deem 
ed  the  mod  entertaining  fubje<5t,  as  well  as  the  moft  ufeful  dbje&  of  human  attention  and  reafon. 
Such  is  the  genius  of  our  nation  at  the  prefent  moment.  And  this  turn  of  the  nation,  coinciding 
with  that  ardour  for  literary  fame,  which,  for  more  than  forty  years  paft  has  diftinguifhed  the 
northern  part  of  this  ifland,  has  determined  the  moft  eminent  Scottiih  writers  to  try  their  ftrength 
in  the  arduous  attempt  of  hiftory. 

Had  Wilkie  been  born  and  educated  in  the  -prefent  reign,  it  is  probable  that  he  would  have 
courted  the  hiftoric  mufe.  But  the  general  tafte  for  poetry  which  prevailed  when  he  received  the 
firft  impreffions  of  education,  a  fprijrhtly  and  luxuriant  imagination,  and  the  political  motive,  which 
has  been  already  mentioned,  confpired  to  raife  his  views  to  Parnaffus.  A  few  years  before  his 
birth,  fenators  and  ftatefmen  were  proud  of  writing  verfes ;  and  a  talent  for  poetry  was  confidered 
as  a  requifite,  as  it  was  in  reality  a  ftep  to  preferment  in  the  offices  of  government.  The  princes, 
in  whofe  reign  he  was  born  and  educated,  were  not  indeed  pitrons  of  the  mufes :  But  poetry  con- 
tinued  to  be  in  fafliion.  The  tranflations  of  Pope  had  excited  a  general  admiration  of  his  own 
powers,  and  revived  a  veneration  for  thofe  of  Homer.  Criticifms  were  written  on  the  Epopirea, 
and  comparifons  made  between  Homer,  Virgil,  Lucau,  Camoens,  Ariofto,  Taffo,  Milton,  Voltaire1, 
and  Glover. 

,  In  fuch  circumftances,  Wilkie  conceived  the  defign  of  writing  a  poem  after  that  great  poet,  whofe 
praifes  were  re-echoed  throughout  the  world,  and  for  whom  he  entertained  the  hfgheft  veneration. 
He  drew  the  fubjecl  of  his  poem  from  the  fourth  book  of  the  "  Iliad,"  where  Sthenelus  gives  A- 
gamemnon  a  fhort  account  of  the  facking  of  Thebes.  After  the  fall  of  thofe  heroes  celebrated  bf 
Statiu?,  their  fons,  and,  among  the  reft,  Diemcd,  undertook  the  fiege  of  that  city,  and  were  fo  fortu 
nate  as  to  fucceed  in  their  enterprife,  and  to  revenge,  on  the  Thebans  and  the  tyrant  Crron,  the 
death  of  their  fathers.  Thefe  young  heroes  were  known  to  the  Greeks  under  the  title  of  the  Eft- 
foal,  or  the  Dependents  ;  and,  for  this  reafon,  Wilkie  gave  to  his  poem  the  title  of  the  Eflgmlad. 

There  remained  a  tradition  among  the  Greeks,  that  Homer  had  taken  this  fecond  fiege  of 
Thebes  for  the  fubjeft  of  a  fecond  poem,  which  is  loft;  and  Wilkie  feems  to  have  pleafed  himfelf 
with  the  thoughts  of  reviving  the  work,  %s  well  as  of  treading  in  the  fteps  of  his  favourite  author. 

The  principles  upon  which,  as  a  Chriftian  and  a  philofopher,  in  an  age  which  rejects  ancient 
fable  as  wholly  incredible,  he  engaged  in  an  undertaking,  the  nature  of  which  was  intimately  ca 
nceled  with  ancient  mythology,  may  be  collected  from  the  following  eulogium  on  the  influence 
of  poetry,  more  particularly  that  fpecies  of  poetry  which  luppofcs  the  truth  of  heathen  fables, 
pronounced  in  convention  with  Dr.  Thorr.fon,  many  years  afcer,  in  the  Earl  of  Kinnoul'i  li 
brary  at  Dupplin-Caflle,  which,  though  long,  is  too  valuable  to  be  withheld. 

"  There  cannot  be  a  more  proper  amufement  for  a  perfon  whofe  office  it  is  to  humanife  tl 
jnind  by  inculcating  the  Chriftian  graces  and  virtue,  than  the  poets.     All  literature  has  a  tendency 
to  purify  the  mind  from  difmgenuity  and  brutality,  by  habituating  it  to  the  contemplation  of  i 
in  contradiftindion  to  falfchood  and  error  ;  of  fitnefs  and  propriety,  as  d.ftinguifhed 
^congruous,  monflrou*,  and  abfurd  ;  and  of  human  nature  placed  in  fituations  fitted  to  excite 
fympathetic  feelings,  and  to  exercife  our  noble  and  virtuous  emotions  and  paflien..     1 
laft  manner,  it  is  by  a'conftant  appeal  to  cur  moral  feelings,  that   poetry,  efpecially  the 
kinds  of  poetry,  wears  off  the  antipathies  of  the  barbarian,  and  difpofes  the  man  of  1 
in  the  intercourfc  of  life,  to  overlook  many  caufe*  of  aniwof.ty  and  refentment,  and 
with  human  nature  in  the  midft  of  a  thoufand  frailties  and  follies.     By  the  fublime  kinds  of  j 
I  underftani  the  ode,  tragedy,  and  epopaa:  Thefe  rot  only  recommend  whatever  : 


x  THE   LIFE    OF  WILKIE. 

great  in  human  conduct,  to  the  cool  and  difpaflionate  views  of  rcafon,  but  powerfully  imprefs  it  o» 
the  heart,  and  gradually  incorporate  it  with  the  moral  character.  In  human  events  and  action* 
there  is  a  famenefs  which  cloys,  and  an  imperfection  which  difpleafes  the  mind.  Heroic  or  epic 
poetry  remedies  thefe  defects,  by  exhibiting  a  picture  as  various  as  the  wanderings  of  the  imagina 
tion,  and  examples  of  virtue  that  correfpond  to  thofe  abftracted  ideas  of  excellence  that  are  formed 
by  the  intellect,  and  which  alone  come  up  to  the  defires  of  the  foul.  Although  the  whole  of  a 
compofuion  of  this  kind  abounds  in  grave  inftructions,  yet  there  is  one  leffon  which  is  taught 
above  all  others,  one  truth  which  it  principally  inculcates,  and  which  is  called  the  moral  of  the 
poem.  This  truth  or  moral  is  illuftrated  by  a  ftory  or  fable  ;  and  as  the  heroic  poet  does  not  fhoot 
directly  and  rapidly  towards  the  end  he  has  in  view,  but,  on  the  contrary,  keeps  long  on  the  wing, 
and  aim*,  in  his  flight,  to  warm  the  mind,  and  to  gratify  its  vaft  defires  by  frequent  views  of  the 
grandeur,  magnificence,  and  beauty  of  nature.  This  fable,  ftory,  or  plot,  various  and  intricate  in 
itfelf,  is  ftill  farther  diverfified  by  manifold  incidents  and  digreflions ;  various  fcenes  are  opened, 
various  actors  introduced,  various  characters  and  manners,  and,  correfponding  to  thefe,  various  fcn- 
timents.  The  variety  and  gravity  of  the  diction  are  futted  to  the  variety  and  gravity  of  the  fub- 
ject ;  and  mufical  numbers,  with  beautiful  imagery,  adorn  every  part  of  the  complicated  production." 

"  He  illuftrated  the  truth  of  thefe  fentiments"  fays  Dr.  Thomfon,  by  whom  the  converfation  is 
reported,  "  from  the  works  of  Taflb  and  of  Milton,  but  chiefly  from  the  "  Iliad"  of  Homer.  I 
mentioned  the  incredibility  of  Homer's  fables,  and  hinted  that  they  were  fcarcely  proper  for  the 
contemplation  of  a  Chriftian.  On  this  head,  I  was  not  myfelf  very  fcrupulous,  being  convinced  that, 
to  fuffer  the  imagination  to  wander,  for  a  time,  over  the  fields  of  fancy,  is  no  crime.  It  is  eafy  to 
call  back  the  wanderer,  and  to  difmifs  the  illufion  :  But  I  wiflied  to  draw  an  anfwer  from  Wilkie. 
With  refpect  to  the  incredibility  of  fable,  the  imagination,  he  anfwered,  can  render  any  thing  cre 
dible,  if  ic  is  •well  defcribed.  that  is  not  abfurd  or  impoffible.  As  to  the  unchriftiannefs  of  attend 
ing  to  heathen  fables,  he  faid  that  there  were  many  fables  in  the  Bible,  introduced  for  the  exprefa 
purpofe  of  conveying  and  inculcating  truths,  religious  and  moral.  Many  of  the  heathen  fables,  he 
maintained,  had,  in  like  manner,  a  moral  tendency  :  For  example,  the  furious  Achilles  and  Diomed 
are  about  to  vent  their  rage  in  fome  act  of  cruelty  and  injuflice.  Minerva  prefents  herfelf  in  fome 
form  or  other  that  they  refpect,  and  diverts  their  purpofe.  That  is,  the  voice  of  reafon  reftrains 
the  impetuofity  of  paflion." 

The  differences  of  time  and  place  had  no  effect  upon  Wilkie's  genius.  While  he  cultivated  the 
ground,  his  poem  cf  The  Efigonlad  was  going  forward  ;  and,  with  the  fcythe  in  his  hand,  he  medi 
tated  on  the  times  when  princes  and  heroes  boafted  of  their  powers  and  fkill,  in  cutting  hay, 
ploughing  land,  and  feeding  fwine.  The  rural  fcenes  and  fimple  manners  that  were  ever  prefent 
in  his  imagination,  accorded  well  with  the  tone  of  a  poem,  the  fubject  of  which  was  taken  from  a 
very  early  period  of  fociety,  and  contributed  to  give  a  juftnefs  and  exactnefs  to  his  images,  which 
are  not  to  be  found  in  the  compofitions  of  city  poets,  who  draw  little  from  nature,  and  take  every 
thing  at  fecond  hand. 

It  was  reported,  that  while  he  was  writing  the  £figaniad,it  is  faid,  he  read  it  in  pieces  to  an  old 
woman  in  the  neighbourhood,  named  Margaret  Paton,  without  communicating  to  any  other 
perfon  what  he  was  doing;  and  what  fhe  difapproved  of,  he  fcored  and  altered,  till  pure  nature 
was  pleafed.  A  fimilar  ftory  is  told  of  Moliere,  with  more  probability. 

There  is  a  tradition  alfo,  that,  upon  fome  occafion,  he  fubmitted  his  verfes  to  the  correction  of 
Mr.  Hume.  Mr.  Hume  addreffed  Wilkie,  by  telling  him,  that  he  had  made  a  great  many  emen 
dations.  Wilkie,  upon  looking  flightly  at  them,  replied:  "  Well,  I  will  be  even  with  you;  for  I 
will  not  adopt  fo  much  as  one  of  your  corrections." 

His  manner  of  life  at  the  Fiiher's  Tryfte  was  the  moft  refpectable  that  could  be  imagined. 
He  profecuted  his  literary  ftudies,  be  tilled  the  ground,  employed  the  poor,  provided  for  his  fifters, 
and  on  Sundays  occafionally  preached  the  gofpel.  This,  indeed,  was  no  hardfhip  to  him  ;  for  fo 
general  was  his  knowledge,  fo  lively  his  imagination,  and  fo  quick  his  recollection,  that  he  preached 
not  only  without  writing  his  fermons,  but  fometimes  even  without  longer  premeditation  than  that 
of  eight  or  ten  minutes.  He  went  one  day  to  hear  fermon  in  the  church  of  Ratho,  and,  as  h^ 


THE   LIFE   OF  WILKIE.  ,J 

•walked  along  withj  the  minifter  from  the  manfe  to  the  church,  was  clofely  prefied  by  him  to 
preach  for  him.  He  at  firft  made  many  excufes,  hut  was  fo  ememeiy  urged,  that  he  at  lad  con- 
fented,  provided  the  minifter  would  name  the  text;  a  condition  which  was  readily  complied  with. 
This  anecdote  is  related  by  Dr.  Thomfon,  who  was  told  by  a  nobleman  who  was  prefcnt,  and  who 
was  a  good  judge,  that  the  fermon  was  excellent. 

In  the  rebellion  1745,  a  generous  ftart  of  loyal  fervour  had  excited  the  young  people  about  Edin 
burgh,  many  of  them  Wiikie's  companions,  to  take  the  field ;  but  the  abfurdity  of  Hiking  the  flower 
of  the  country  made  it  foon  be  overruled  ;  and  Wilkie  was  remarked  to  have  been  the  only  perfon 
who  left  rhe.anks:  Hence  infinuationsagainft  hisperfonal  courage.  Perhaps  he  faw  thefo  lifhneft 
of  the  thing  :  At  leaft,  there  are  no  other  evidences  of  the  kind  againft  him  ;  and  it  is  certain,  that 
being  once  dogged  by  a  foot-pad,  in  a  dark  night,  on  his  way  to  Ratho,  he  turned  upon  him,  and, 
with  one  blow  of  his  cane  acrofs  the  temples,  brought  him  to  the  ground.  This  anecdote  is  relat 
ed  upon  the  authority  of  Dr.  Robtrtfon. 

After  the  cloic  of  the  rebellion,  and  the  federation  of  the  peace  of  the  country,  he  returned  to 
bis  farm,  and  refumed  the  quiet  occupations  of  agriculture  and  literature,  in  which  he  fpent  fevcral 
years,  little  known  to  the  world,  and  holding  little  intercourfe  with  it,  excepting  with  a  few  litera 
ry  friends  and  companions. 

The  Fifher's  Tryfte,  lying  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Gorgie,  the  property  of  Mr.  Lind  flieriff- 
fubftitute  of  Mid-Lothian,  he  became  acquainted  with  Wilkie  at  an  early  period,  and,  from  their 
firit  acquaintance,  ftrongly  attached  himftlf  to  his  interefts. 

Mr.  Lind  was  very  capable  of  difcerning  his  merit,  gave  him  a  general  invitation  to  his  houfe, 
introduced  him  into  the  company  of  his  numerous  acquaintance,  and  made  him  known  to  the 
Duke  of  Argyll,  the  Earl  cf  Lauderdale,  Lord  Milton,  Lord  Kames,  Mr.  Charles  Townfhend, 
and  many  other  perfons  of  rank. 

In  1752,  Mr.  Guthrie,  minifter  of  Ratho,  being  rendered  incapable,  by  age  and  infirmities,  of 
difcharging  the  duties  of  his  office,  an  afliftant  was  found  neceflary.  Mr.  Lind  recommenced  Wil 
kie  to  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale,  the  patron  of  that  parifh,  for  that  office,  and  obtained  his  Lord- 
ihip's  co;  fen:  to  allow  him  to  preach  at  Ratho. 

When  Wilkie  was  introduced  at  Hatton,  Lord  Lauderdale  was  much  pleafed  with  the  origin*, 
lity  of  his  genius  and  extenfive  knowledge  ;  and  fo  much  entertained  with  a  thoufand  peculiarities 
in  his  manner  of  thinking  and  reafoning  on  every  fubjeiSt,  that  he  refolved  immediately  to  make 
him  affiftant  and  fucceffor  to  Mr.  Guthrie  ;  and,  for  this  purpofe,  he  generoi:fly  eftablifhed  a  fund 
of  30  1.  for  his  annual  fupport,  without  diminifhing  the  {Upend  during  the  life  of  the  old  man. 

Accordingly,  on  the  i?th  of  May  1753,  Wilkie  was  crdained,  by  the  Prefbytery  of  Edinburgh, 
affiftant  and  fucceffor  to  the  minifter  of  Ratho.  In  this  fituation,  he  continued  three  years  and  a 
half,  living  all  that  time  on  his  little  farm,  about  four  miles  diftant,  and  faithfully  perfo*ming  the 
duties  of  his  office  in  the  parifh.  On  the  death  of  Mr.  Guthrie,  Feb.  *8th  17^6,  he  c«mc  int« 
poffeffion  of  the  whole  living,  and  fettled,  with  his  filters,  in  the  manfe  of  Ratho. 

Agriculture  had  been  a  peculiar  objedt  of  his  attention  from  his  youth  ;  and  he  now  gave  full 
fcope  to  his  genius  for  improvement,  though  on  a  fmall  fcale.  His  glebe,  which  he  f..und  in  great 
disorder,  he  immediately  cnclofed  in  a  judicious  manner,  and  cultivated  it  w.th  iuch  ability,  that  it 
continued  to  produce  the  moft  abundant  crops. 

A  piece  of  marfliy  ground  belonging  to  the  glebe,  in  the  narr.e  of  pafture-grouod,  of  near  five 
acres,  which,  from  time  immemorial,  had  been  of  fo  little  value,  that  the  higheft  rent  given  f,  r  it 
was  half-a-guinea  yearly,  he  enclofed  with  a  deep  ditch  and  hedge  ;  and  interfered  it  with  fuch  • 
variety  of  drains,  moft  judicioufly  difpofed,  that  it  became  matter  of  afton.fhment  to  th 
in  general,  and  of  ridicule  to  many  ;  but  the  event  juftified  his  ability,  for  it  Foduc 
moft  beneficial  crops,  and  ftill  continues  valuable. 

He  alfo  projected  a  fociety  for  the  improvement  of  agriculture  and  rural  economy,  call 

Club,  whicR  met  at  Ratho,  and  confifted  of  a  great  number  of  the  gentlen.cn  and  pru 
farmers  in  the  neighbourhood.    The  excellent  regulations,  cftabliJhed  for  the  govern; 


Jm  THI   LIFE    OF 

the  club,  and  the  great  variety  of  interefting  and  judicicni  queftions,  proposed  as  fnbjects  of  their* 
delibera'ion  and  difcuflion,  in  all  which  he  had  a  principal  fliare,  will  long  continue  to  do  honour 
to  his-mcmory. 

This  fociety,  of  which  Wllkie  may  be  confidered  as  the  founder,  was  conducted,  for  many  yean, 
with  great  fpirit  and  fuccefs.  Us  records,  according  to  the  information  of  Mr.  Robertlon,  contain 
differrations  on  many  practical  fubjects  in  agriculture,  of  much  merit.  The  name  of  the  celebrated 
Dr-  Culler  appears  in  the  lift  oi"  the  members. 

While  he  refided  at  Ra'ho,  he  had  much  intercourfe  with  the  Landerdale  family,  and  was,  at  all 
times,  a  welcome  vifitant  at  Hatton.  His  noble  patron  was  f.>nd  of  his  converfation,  and  often  en 
gaged  him  in  difputation  ;  and,  perhaps,  he  never  met  with  an  antagonift  who  afforded  him  greater 
fcope  for  the  exertion  of  all  his  powers.  Through  life,  he  retained  the  ftrongelt  attachment  to  the 
lEarl  of  Lauderdale,  and  valued  him  more  for  his  good  underftanding,  his  great  knowledge  of  me* 
and  manners,  and  his  uncommon  humanity,  than  for  his  high  rank.  His  fcntiments,  with  refpedk 
*lo  the  Earl,  were  well  known  to  all  his  acquaintances;  for  there  was  nothing  more  common  thaa 
Jiis  retailing  his  Lordfhip's  maxim'  and  opinions  in  every  company  and  converfation. 

fn  1757,  he  publifhed  at  Edinburgh  The  F.pigoriiad,  a  P»cm,  in  Nine  Sods,  lanio,  the  refult  of 
fourteen  years  ftudy  and  application,  and  claimed  the  honours  of  an  epic  poet.  His  claim,  how 
ever,  to  this  distinction  was  not  generally  allowed.  His  work  was  applauded  by  a  few  men  of 
tafte  and  learning,  but  was  coldly  received  by  the  public,  and  cenfured,  with  great  feverity,  by  the 
•writers  of  periodical  criticifm,  on  account  of  a  few  miftakes  in  exprefiion  and  profody,  excufable 
in  a  Scottifh  poet,  who  had  never  been  out  of  his  own  country.  The  title,  it  muft  be  confeOed, 
was  fomewhat  unfortunately  chofen  ;  for  as  the  ftory  of  the  Fpigoni  was  known  only  to  a  very 
few  of  the  learned,  the  public  were  not  able  to  conjecture  what  could  be  the  fubject  of  the  poem, 
and  were  apt  to  neglect  what  it  was  impofUble  to  underfland.  The  Preface  contained  fome  ju 
dicious  and  fpirited  remarks  OH  the  beauties  and  defects  of  epic  poetry,  but  afforded  little  infor 
mation  concerning  the  fubject  of  the  poem.  There  was  no  general  plan  prefixed  to  the  whole, 
nor  argument,  as  might  be  expected,  at  the  head  of  each  book.  It  was  infcribed,  in  the  manner 
of  Camoensand  Taflb,  to  Archibald  Duke  of  Argyll,  a  nobleman,  who,  by  patronizing  the  arts  and 
fciences,  rivalled  trie  glory  of  his  elder  brother  Duke  John,  whofe  political  and  military  talent* 
made  him  to  be  defervedly  efleemed  one  of  the  firft  ftatefmen  and  heroes  of  his  time. 


l,  the'flate's  whole  thunder  born  to  wield, 
And  make  alike  the  fenate  and  the  field. 

POPE. 

In  I7J9,  he  publifhed  a  fecond  edition  of  The  Epigonhd,  Isfe.  by  William  Willie,  V.  D.  M.  Care- 
fully  correSted  and  improved.  To  tvbicb  is  added,  a  Dream,  in  ike  manner  of  Sfcnfir,  I2mo.  In  this  e- 
rfition,  all  or  moft  of  the  Scoticifms,  and  other  trivial  miftakes  in  the  firft  edition,  were  correct 
ed.  A  paflage  alfo  in  the  Preface,  containing  a  rafli  cenfure  of  "  the  quaintnefs  of  Mr.  Pope's  ex- 
j.refllon,in  his  tranflacion  of  the  "  Iliad"  and  "  Odyfley,"  as  not  at  all  fuitable  cither  to  the  an 
tiquity  or  majeftic  gravity  of  his  author,"  Was  very  properly  omitted.  Mr.  Hume  gives  ths  fol 
lowing  account  of  its  reception  in  London,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Smith,  dated  April  12.  1759  :  "  The 
Eplgomud,  I  hope,  will  do,  but  it  is  fomewhat  up-hill  work.  You  will  fee  in  the  "  Critical  Review," 
a  letter  upon  that  poem,  and  I  defire  you  to  employ  your  conjectures  in  finding  out  the  author." 
The  letter  in  the  "  Critical  Review,"  was  written  by  Mr.  Hume}  to  recommend  Tie  Eplgonlad  to 
the  public,  "  as  one  of  the  ornaments  of  our  language."  The  fuccefs  was  not  anfwerable  to  his 
expectations.  Too  antique  to  pleafe  the  unlettered  reader,  and  too  modern  for  the  fcholar,  it  wa» 
neglected  by  both,  read  by  few,  and  foon  forgotten  by  all. 

Soon  after  his  coming  to  Ratho,  he  was  feized  with  an  unformed  ague,  from  which  he  was  never 

perfectly  relieved  during  the  reft  of  his  life.     For  this  complaint,  he  thought  an  extraordinary  per- 

j  fpiration  was  neceffiry.     He  flept  with  an   immoderate  quantity  of  bed-clothes,  and  fweated  fe 

;  much,  that  it  was  thought  to  have  had  an  effect  in  relaxing  his  conftitntion.     The  blankets  under 

which  he  flept  became  a  wonder  to  the  country;  ftories  are  told  of  twenty-four  pair  of  blankets 

being  above  him  :  And  this  may  have-  been  the  cafe  when  he  was  not  in  his  own  bed;  but,  in  ge- 

'  nsral,  his  covering  wai  much  lighter. 


THE   LIFE   OF   W  ILK  ITS.  xiu 

TJ;e  fuppofcd  unfiealthinefs  of  the  manle  of  R;.tho  gave  him  the  Crft  inclination  to  change  hi*  fi- 
tuation,  aid  the  profefiorflup  of  Natural  Philofnphy  in  the  Uiuverlhy  of  St.  Andrew's  becom 
ing  vaca.-/  in  May  17.59,  by  tne  death  of  Mr  David  Ywung,  he  became  a  candidate  for  that  office. 
Several  candidates  appeared,  and  Wiikie  was  not  then  acquainted  wirh  one  member  in  the  Univer- 
Cty  A-  it  happened  to  be  the  time  of  the  meetir  g  of  tiic  General  Affembly,  he  was  introduced 
to  fuch  of  them  as  were  then  at  Edinburgh,  and  found  avenue*  of  application  to  thtm  all ;  but  Dr. 
\Vat(on  was  the  only  member  who  difcerned  his  merit,  and.  effectually  promoted  hisintereft;  for, 
when  the  day  of  election  came  (July  1/39),  the  other  proftflors  had  attached  themfelves,  ia 
equal  numbers,  to  two  other  candidates;  and  when  neither  party  could,  by  any  influence,  alter  Dr. 
XVdi'on,  one  of  the  partie^  joined  him,  and  gave  the  election  in  favour  of  WMkic. 

Wren  he  lift  Rrul  o,  he  was  worth  about  acol.  from  the  fale  of  the  ftoik  upon  his  farm,  and 
fnvir.gs  fn>m  hi*  Oipend.  With  this  nvney  he  purcbafed  fume  acres  <if  land  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  St.  Andrew's.  He  enclofed  and  cultivated  hi»  little  fields  with  fuch  judgment  and  fucccfs,  as  ex 
cited  the  athin  {hruent,  commanded  the  imitation,  and  promoted  the  improvement  of  the  country 
rrund  him,  and  c  ntrvbuted,  in  a  high  degree,  to  his  own  emolument.  He  gradually  extended 
his  purchafe-',  his  improvements,  and  his  profits,  and  is  fuppofed  to  have  acquired  a  property  in 
land  worth  jorcl. ,  and  has,  in  hib  fo  rapid  accumulation,  left  an  equally  eminent  example  of 
ability  and  economy. 

As  a  teacher  of  natural  philofnphy,  hi«  ufual  merit  did  not  forfake  him.  Natural  philufophjr, 
he  faid  himfe'f,  was  his  foitt  Though,  by  an  univerfal  genius,  he  flione  in  this  department  of 
fcitnce,  yet  his  frit nd*  generally  imagined  that  languages,  logic,  nicta^hj ftcs,  or  moral  pmlufo- 
phy,  would  have  been  more  fuitable  to  his  taftc  and  inclinations. 

In  1768,  he  publiftied  hi-  Fables,  8vo.  They  are  fixteen  in  number,  and  a  frontifyicce,  defign- 
ed  by  Wale,  is  prefixed  to  each  fable.  Previous  to  the  publication  of  hU  Fabln>  the  Uuivcrfity 
»f  M.  Andrew's  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Dodor  in  Divinity. 

From  this  time  noth:ng  of  importance  occurred  in  the  life  <-f  Wiikie.  He  is  faid  to  have  broke 
off  canneclion  with  Mr.  Hume  and  Dr.  Robertfon,  fome  time  before  his  death. 

After  a  lingering  indifpofition,  he  died  at  St.  Andrew's,  Odlolier  loth  1774,  in  the  jrft  year  of 
his  nge.  His  two  fifteis,  to  whom  he  left  his  property,  are  Hill  living  at  St.  Andrew's.  He 
left  his  MSS  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Lift.>n,  who  has  not  publifhed  any  of  his  literary  remain*. 

N»  edition  of  his  Epigcniad  or  Fables  has  been  called  for  fiucc  his  death.  They  are  now,  reprinted 
from  the  edition  1759  aud  J76^»  for  tne  firft  time>  received  ^9  collection  of  claffical  Englifli 
poetry. 

In  176?,  when  the  prefrnt  writer  was  at  Lanark  fchool,  his  admiration  of  Wjlkie  induced  him 
to  trai.fcritx-  from  a  manufcrirt  in  the  Earl  «f  Hyndford"*  library  at  Cirmichael-houfe,  a  poem, 
intituled,  "•  Whitton,  a  defcriptive  poem,  with  n.-tes,  infcribcd  to  the  Duke  of  Argyll,  by  VV.  W." 
fuppofed' to  mean  William  Wiikie -,  but  he  has  not  ventured  to  give  -it  t<j  Wiikie  up -n  fuppofi- 

tion. 

Of  hif  charader,  private  habits,  domcftic  manners,  and  opinion*,  curiofity  will  require  more 
ample  information  than  is  to  be  found  in  the  following  notice.,  which  the  diligence  of  Piofefibr 
Dalzsl  has  collected,  and  the  zeal  and  veneration  of  Mr.  Robertfon,  Mr..  Lifton,  Dr.  Thomfon, 
and  Dr.  Robertfon.  have  fupplied. 

«  He  was  always,"  fays  a  paper,  communicated  by  an  ingenious  but  not  h 

Ide  to  Profcfibr  Dalzel,  "  fond  of  being  in  the  company  of  old  men  and  old  women,  from  the  8th 
year  of  hi*  age,  and  they  always  liked  him, as  he  deligh.ed  in  their  convention  ;  and  he  raft  out 
fomething  n,-w,  whatever  was  the  fubjed.     He  had  read  the  ancient  philofophers  and  poets  very 
early.      Hefiod  was  a  favourite  poet  of  his,  and  he  very  ,-fcen  quoted  him  to  perfon,  wh,  knew 
thing  about  him.     His  convention  wa.  moft  original  and  ingenious.    It  had  a  m.iture  c 
ledge,  acutenef*  and  fingularity,  which  rendered  it  peculiarly  delightful ;  and  every  perfon  who  fpen 
an  hour  w.th  him,  carried  away  fomething  which  he  was  glad  to  repeat.     He  had  a  firm 
*e  truth  of  the  Chriftian  religion.    He  employed  a  coofid^Nc  poruw  rf  to  uojc  ^  read^g  the 


li»  THE   LIFE   OF  WTLKIE. 

Scriptures,  and  he  kept  up  the  worfhip  of  God  reguiarly  in  his  family.     While  he  was  a  parifh  mi- 
nifter,  he  was  acceptable  to  his  people ;   and,  in  every  fituation  of  his  life,  he  was  kind  to  perfons  in 
dithefs,  and  very  liberal  in  his  private  charity.     His  temper  was  hafty,  but  void  of  malice  or  four- 
nefs ;  and  he  was  always  cheerful.     He  was  fond  of  agriculfure,  and  remarkable  for  his  knowledge 
of  the  different  branches  of  it.     The  people  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Andrew's  acknowledge  t« 
this  day,  that  they  have  derived  many  ufeful  leffons  from  Dr.  Wilkie's  management  of  his  farm." 
"  In  his  public  capacity  as  a  preacher,"  lays  Mr.  Robertfon,  "  he  was  rathsr  original  and  inge 
nious  than  eloquent ;  and,  though  he  never  purfued  the  ordinary  adls  of  popularity,  never  failed  to 
fix  the  attention  of  his  audience.      I'he  peculiarity,  variety,  and  even  eccentricity  of  his  fentiments 
or  reafoning,  invariably  procured  him  approbation.     In  his  pnblic  character,  he  obferved  a  thoufand 
oddities  and  inattentions.     He  generally  preached  with  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  often  forgot  to  pro- 
,  nounce  the  blefling  afrer  public  fervice.     Once  I  faw  him  difpenfe  the  facrament  without  confe- 
crating  the  elements.     On  being  told,  he  made  a  public  apology,  confecrated,  and  ferved  the  fecond 
table;  afrer  which,  he  went  to  the  pulpit  to  fuperintend  the  fervice,  forgetting  to  communicate 
himfelf,  till  informed  of  the  omiffion  by  his  elders.     In  his  drefs,  he  was  uncommonly  negligent 
and  fl  jvenly,  and,  in  his  whole  manner  of  life,  totally  inattentive  to  all  thofe  little  formalities  on 
which  the  generality  <>f  mankind  are  apt  to  value  themfelves.     He  was  immoderately  addided  to 
the  ufc  of  tobacco,  particularly  chewing,  in  which  he  went  to  fuch  extreme  excefs,  that  it  was 
thought,  by  all  hi*  acquaintance,  highly  prejudicial  to  his  health,  and  perhaps  a  caufe  of  his  prema* 
ture  death.   He  was  fond  of  medical  aid,  but  always  difputed,  and  often  rejected  the  prefcriptions  of 
do&or«  r  Hence  was  thought  whimfical,  both  in  his  compliments,  and  in  his  management  of  them. 
He  flept  with  an  immi  derate  quantity  of  bed-clothes.     One  day  he  vifited  a  farmer  in  the  neigh 
bourhood,  a  relation  of  his  own ;  when  prevailed  on  to  ftay  all  night,  he  begged  he  might  have 
plenty  of  bed-clothes.     His  female  friends  in  the  family  collected  and  put  on  his  bed  24  pair  of 
blankets.     When  afked,  next  morning,  if  he  had  plenty  of  bed-clothes,  he  anfwered,  he  had  juft 
enough,  and  had  flept  well.     He  abhorred  nothing  fo  much  as  clean  meets,  and  whenever  he  met 
with  fuch,  he  wrapt  them  up,  threw  them  afide,  and  flept  in  the  blankets.     One  evening,  at 
Hatton,  being  aik«d  by  Lady  Lauderdale  to  ftay  all  night,  he  exprefled  an  attachment  to  his  own 
bed,  but  faid,  if  her  ladyfhip  would  give  him  a  pair  of  foul  fheets,  he  would  flay." 

"  Hard  circumftances,"  fays  Dr.  Robertfon,  "  oppreffed  Wilkie  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life, 

and  produced  that  ftrong  attention  to  money-matters,  with  which  he  has  been  reproached  by  thofe 

who  could  not  explain  it.     It  proceeded,  in  fa<Sl,  from  a  fingular  love  of  independence,  the  paflion  of 

a  ftately  mind.     He  fhuddered  at  the  thought  of  coming  under  the  power  of  any  man,  and  could 

hardly  think  of  walking  the  ftreets,  left  any  perfon,  to  whom  he  was  indebted,  fhould  meet  him. 

When  his  father  died,  he  had  to  borrow  the  money  that  was  to  bury  him.    He  went  to  an  uncle  for 

10 1.  and  was  refufed.     Thefe  events  could  but  ill  fit  upon  bis  mind.     After  he  came  to  better 

days,  u  I  have  often  heard  him  fay,"  fays  Mr.  Lifton,  "  1  have  fhaken  hands  with  poverty  up  to 

the  very  elbow,  and  I  wifh  never  to  fee  her  face  again."    Hence  a  parfimony  to  £he  extreme.     Yet, 

in  wealth,  would  we  brand  him  with  the  love  of  money  for  its  own  fake.     Another  paffion  came 

in  :  He  loved  his  relations ;  and  it  was  his  common  maxim,  that  no  man  fhould  ever  break  with 

his  kindred.     He  was  not  long  minifter  of  Ratho,  till  he  apprehended  his  life  would  be  fhort :  He 

had  two  fitters  that  he  feared  would  be  left  deftitute,  immediately  upon  his  death.     Apprehenfive 

on  their  account,  he  always  lived  plain,  heaped  up  every  penny,  and  at  laft  died  worth  two  or 

three  thoufand  pounds;  not  fo  much  acquired  by  favings,  however,  as  by  a  rapid  profit  from  his 

own  favourite  aft  of  agriculture,  in  the  perfed  fkill  of  which  no  man  excelled  him.     At  the  fame 

time,  after  the  fh  ,rt  period  that  he  became  poffeffed  of  money,  his  friends  could  fee  that  he  could 

part  with  ir.     It  was  his  cuftom  to  pay  the  bill,  even  when  travelling  with  feveral  of  his  relations 

that  could  aff.rd  their  (hare.     After  he  fettled  at  St.  Andrew's,  his  private  charities  were  not 

lefs  than  ao  1.  a  year.     Born  for  intenfe  thought ;   for  total  abfence  of  mind  upon  ordinary  mat- 

ters ;  plunged  in  poverty  in  early  life,  without  a  domeftic  about  his  perfon,  and  even  without  the 

mea™  of  any  elegance  whatever,  he  naturally  becajne.  flovenly,.  dirty,  and  even  naufrous,    Hjs 

1 


THE  LIFE   OF  WILKIE.  w 

chewed  tobacco  to  excefs,  and  at  laft  made  himfelf  believe,  that  it  was  good  for  his  health. 
It  feems,  on  all  hands  agreed,  that  no  mortal  was  equal  te  him  in  converfarion  and  argument  His 
own  explanation  of  it  was,  that  he  took  the  right  fide,  while  his  antagonifts  took  the  wrong  to 
difplay  their  ingenuity  and  learning.  1  have  heard  the  late  Dr.  Wallace,  author  of  the  «  Diflcrta- 
tion  on  the  Numbers  of  Mankind,"  fay,  nobody  could  venture  to  cope  with  him.  His  knowledge, 
in  almoft  all  things,  was  deep,  folid,  and  unanfweraMe.  His  reafoning  was  plain  to  a  child.  |B' 
ihrewdncfs,  he  had  no  rival.  Both  his  manner  and  thoughts  were  mafculine,  in  a  degree  peculiar 
to  himfelf.  Dr.  Smith  fays,  it  was  an  obfervation  of  the  late  Lord  Elibank,  that  wherever 
"Wilkie's  name  happened  to  be  mentioned  in  a  company,  learned  or  unlearned,  it  was  not  foon 
dropped  :  Every  body  had  much  to  fay.  In  ftiort,  he  was  a  great  and  an  odd  man.  His  character, 
I  will  venture  to  fay,  will  never  be  fuccefsfully  written,  but  by  a  great  hand ;  and  even,  when  writ 
ten,  the  theory  of  the  man  is  above  common  comprehenfion." 

"  With  regard  to  Wilkie's  faith  in  Chriftianity,"  fays  Dr.  Thomfon,  «  1  know,  that  he  faid 
prayers  in  his  family  every  evening,  after  he  had  laid  afide  the  character  of  a  divine,  and  grace  at 
table,  with  his  eyes  fhut,  and  his  hands  folded  together,  in  a  pofture  of  fupplication,  and  wirh  every 
mark  of  the  greateft  fervour.  He  would  fometimes  prolong  his  graces,  at  the  College-table,  be 
yond  the  bounds  that  the  keen  appetites  of  the  hungry  ftudents  would  have  prefcribed  to  it.  Even 
in  thefe  fhort  prayers  there  was  often  fame  thought  not  more  devout  than  pleafing  and  ingenious. 
For  example  :  "  O  Lord  !  thou  art  the  author  of  all  our  wants,  and  thou  fupplieft  them,  from  the 
inexhaufted  ftores  of  thy  bounty."  He  appeared  to  be  a  firm  believer  in  God.  The  exiftencc  of  a 
deity  he  confidered  as  the  fimpleft,  and,  therefore,  the  moft  rational  method  of  fol ving  the  phenomena 
of  the  univerfe.  This  was  agreeable  to  the  Newtonian  Syftem,  which  fuppofes  a  vacuum  and  liberty  of 
action ;  and  that  a  voluntary/a/  of  God  launched  forth  the  heavenly  orbs  with  that  degrrce  of  im- 
pulfe  or  momentum  precifely,  which  cerrefponded  with  centripetal  force,  and  -which  would  not 
carry  them  beyond  their  orbits.  The  moral  doctrines  of  Chriftianity,  the  divine  character  of  Je- 
fus  Chrift,  he  held  in  the  moft  profound  veneration.  That  facred  perfon  he  undoubtedly  confidered 
as  an  angel  fent  from  God,  to  enlighten  and  to  blefs  the  world.  Whether  he  believed  in  the  /*- 
cejfity  of  an  atonement  (a  doctrine  which,  as  Dr.  Smith  obferves  in  his  "  Theory  of  Moral  Send, 
ments,"  is  fo  confident  with  the  natural  fentiments  of  mankind ),  and  the  other  peculiar  doctrines  of 
the  Chriftian  religion,  I  cannot,  with  certainty,  affirm.  He  fometimes  lamented,  that  he  doubted. 
But  whether  this  doubt  fettled  into  fcepticifm,  or  that  reafon,  and  an  imagination,  fenfible  in  the, 
higheft  degree,  to  the  ravifhing  profpeCts  held  out  in  the  gofpel,  triumphed  over  doubt,  and  con 
firmed  his  wavering  mind  in  the  Chriftian  faith,  I  know  not.  He  would  often  exclaim  to  his  moft 
intimate  friends  :  "  O  !  if  I  could  firmly  believe  all  the  doctrines  of  Chriftianity,  how  vain  and  in- 
Jipid  every  enjoyment  and  every  purfuit  in  this  world  would  appear !" 

"  It  was  remarkable,"  fays  Profeffor  Dalzel,"  that  Wilkie,  with  all  his  learning,  could  neither  read 
nor  fpell.  I  myfelf  was  witnefs  to  his  ignorance  of  the  art  of  reading.  When  I  was  a  very  young 
man,  rcfiding  at  Hatton,  Wilkie  came  from  St.  Andrew's,  on  a  vifit  to  Lord  Lauderdale.  He  ftaid 
a  few  days,  and  all  the  perfonal  knowledge  I  had  of  Wilkie  was  acquired  during  that  time.  "  The 
Judgment  of  Paris,"  a  poem  by  Dr.  Beattie,  was  brought  to  Hatton  one  of  thofe  days,  as  a  new 
publication.  Wilkie  afked  me  to  retire  with  him,  that  we  might  read  and  criticife  the  poem  toge 
ther.  At  firft,  when  he  began  to  read,  I  imagined  he  did  not  nnderftand  the  verfes  at  all,  as  he 
furely  committed  the  faddeft  havoc,  in  point  of  quantity  and  pronunciation,  that  can  well  be  ima 
gined,  and  even  mifcalled  feveral  of  the  words  :  And  yet  his  criticifm*  were  fo  juft,  and  fo  happily 
expreffed,  that  I  was  charmed  with  the  elegance  of  his  taftc,  and  the  propriety  of  his  obfcrva- 
tions." 

As  a  poet,  his  compofitions  are  not  lefs  diftinguiOied  by  imagination  and  judgment,  than  hi§ 
manner*  were  remarkable  for  eccentricity  and  originality.  In  both,  we  are  pleafed  to  find  that 
feeling  difpofition  which  charaderifes  the  good  man,  and  the  ingenious,  fublime  and  moral  poet. 

His  fygoniad,  if  he  had  written  nothing  elfe,  is  fufficicnt  to  entitle  him  to  an  honourable  rank 
among  the  poet?  of  our  nation,  with  wham  he  is  now  affociated,  It  is  a  legitimate  epic  poem,  of 


TV!  THELJFEOFWILKtE. 

the  fame  fpecies  of  compofition  xvith  the  "  Iliad"  and  the  "  -£Eneid,"  which  is  univerfally  allowed  to 

be,  of  all  poetical  Works,  the  moft  dignified,  and,  at  the  fame  time,  the  moft  difficult  in  execution. 

"  To  contrive  a  ftory,"  fays  Dr.  Blair,  in  his  excellent  "  Lectures,"  "  which  fhall  pleafe 
and  intereft  ail  readers,  bj  being  at  once  entertaining,  important,  and  inftructive,  to  fill  it  vrith 
fuitable  incidents,  to  enliven  it  with  a  variety  of  characters  and  of  defcriptions,  and,  throughout  a 
long  v/ork,  to  maintain  that  propriety  of  fentiment,  and  that  elevation  of  ftyle,  which  the  epic 
character  requires,  is  unqueftionably  the  higheft  effort/ c  f  poetical  genius." 

What  talents  are  neceffary  to  fo  arduous  an  attempt  !  What  vigour  of  imagination,  extent  of 
knowledge,  folidity  of  underftanding,  and  powers  of  language  !  In  order  to  judge  whether  Wilkie 
has  fucceeded  in  this  exalted  fpecses  of  writing,  «r  not,  an  appeal  {hot -Id  be  made,  not  fo  much  to 
the  abftracted  rules  of  criticifm,  as  to  the  tafte  and  feeling  of  the  fympathetic  and  judicious  reader  : 
For  it  is  fentiment  only  that  can  judge  of  fentiment.  When  the  heart  of  the.  reader  remains  cold 
and  unaffected,  the  moft  elaborate  performance  is  defended,  in  vain,  by  all  the  art  of  the  moft  ex 
pert  rhetorician  ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  where  nature  is  difylayed  in  juft  colours,  and  the  imagina 
tion  aftoniflied  by  fcenes  of  terror,  or"  expanded  by  fuch  as  are  fubiime,  a  fatisfaction  is  enjoyed, 
which  is  but  little  marred  by  a  deviation  from  unity  of  time,  place,  or  action. 

In  forming  an  eftimate  of  the  epic  poem  of  Wiikie,  we  are  to  confider  what  degree  of  impor 
tance  there  is  in  his  moral,  and  what  of  artifice  in  his  fable  ;  what  kind  of  manners  and  characters 
he  has  exhibited,  and  if  his  characters  are  properly  fupported  by  their  fentiments  and  actions. 
Are  his  digrtffions  natural  ?  Are  his  views  fubiime  ?  Is  his  imagery  beautiful,  and  his  dictio» 
varied  with  his  varying  fubj.dl  ? 

It  would  extend  this  narrative  to  an  undue  length,  to  examine  the  Epigoniad,  with  refpe<5fc  t« 
each  of  thefe  heads,  particularly.  We  fhall,  therefore,  content  ourfelves  with  briefly  running  over 
the  moral,  and  giving  a  (hort  analyGs  of  the  fable,  occafionally  obferving  on  other  particulars,  as  we 
go  along,  and  collecting  a  few  fpecimens  of  thofe  great  beauties  in  which  it  abounds- 

As  the  end  or  moral  of  the  "  Paradife  Loft"  is  to  {how  the  bitter  fruits  that  fpring  from  difo- 
bcdience  to  the  Jaws  of  God;  and  as  the  end  or  moral  of  the  "  Iliad"  is  to  difplay  the  fatal  effects 
of  furious  and  deep  refentment  and  difcord,  fo  the  moral  of  the  Epigoniad  teaches  the  dire  difafters 
thaf  flow  from  the  pafiion  of  love.  This  leffon  is  inculcated  by  a  ftory  interwoven  with  primeval 
manners,  and  with  Grecian  mythology.  The  firft  of  thefe  circumftances  is  rather  an  advantage 
than  a  difadvantage,  as  we  are  acquainted  with  the  manners  defcribed,  not  pnly  from  the 
writings  of  Homer,  but  alfo  from  thoie  of  Mofes,  and  as  they  diffufe  over  the  poem  an  air  of  ve 
nerable  fimplicity :  The  fecond  could  not,  be  avoided,  it  being  an  article  in  the  Grecian  creed, 
that  the  gods  often  interpole  vifibly  and  bodily  in  human  affairs  :  nor  is  the  incredibility  of  my 
thology  fo  great  a  difadvantage  in  poetry,  as  may  be  imagined :  For,  firft,  as  there  is  a  degree 
of  belief  that  attends  the  vivid  perception  of  every  object,  the  beautiful  and  confifteht  tales  that 
are  told  by  the  poets,  of  the  gods  and  other  fuperior  beings,  gain  a  temporary  credit ;  and  this  is 
fuflicient  for  the  purpofe  of  the  poet.  Secondly,  The  heathen  mythology  operates  on  our  minds, 
with  the  more  facility  that  it  has  been  impreffed  qn  our  minds  in  our  youth.  We  are  acquainted 
with  the  different  characters  of  the  gods  and  goddeffes;  we  know,  beforehand,  what  part  they  are 
likely  to  act  on  particular  occafipns,  and  are  pleaied  when  we  find  the  poet  fupporting,  with  pro 
priety,  the  character  of  each.  A  like  obfcrvation  may  be  extended  to  the  heroes  and  other  famous 
perfonages  of  antiquity.  We  are  acquainted,  as  it  were,  v.ith  their  perfons;  we  are  interefted  in 
tbeir  i or t tines,  and,  therefore,  we  are  infinitely  more  affected  by  fcenes  in  which  they  appear  as 
»ftor-,than  we  would  be  by  Icenes  in  which  a  poet  fhould  introduce  perfong  and  fictions  with  which 
*rc  <ue  wholly  unacquainted.  Boileau,  the  greateft  critic  of  the  French  nation,  was  of  this  opinion; 

"  La  fable  offre  a  1'  efprit  mille  agrcments  divers, 
La  tous  les  noms  heureux  femhlem  nez  pour  les  vers. 
Ulyfie,  Agamemnon,  Orefte,  Idomenec,  . 
Helcue,  Meneias,  Paris,  Hector,  iincc." 


THE   LIFE   OF  WTLKIE.  Xrtf 

It  is  certain,  that  there  is,  in  that  poetic  ground,  a  kind  of  enchantment  which  allures  every 
perfon  of  a  tender  and  lively  imagination  nor  is  this  impreflion  diminiih  -d.  but  rather  much  in- 
creafed  by  our  early  introdu&i^n  to  the  knowledge  of  it,  in  our  perufal  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
clafiks.  The  fame  great  French  critic  makes  the  apology  of  Wilkie  in  his  ufe  of  the  ancicut  my 
thology. 

"  Ainfi  dan»  cet  amas  de  noble  fictions, 

Le  poete  s'egaye  en  mille  inventions, 

Orne,  eleve,  embellit,  agrandit  toutes  chofes, 

lit  trouve  s'ons  fa  main  des  flours  toujours  cclofes." 

It  would  feem,  in  leed,  that,  if  fome  fupernatural  machinery  be  not  admitted,  epic  p^«try,  at  lead 
fell  the  marvellous  part  of  it,  :nu!r.  be  entirely  abandoned.  "  Without  tJmiratim,"  (ay«  Dr.  Hurd, 
in  his  "  Letters  GO  Chivalry  and  Romance"  (which  cannot  be  effc&ed  but  by  the  marvellous  of 
celefli  1  .ntervention,  I  mean  the  agency  of  fuperior  natures  re'ally  txuHng,  or  by  the  illufion 
of  the  fancy  taken  to  be  foj,  no  epic  p  'em  can  be  long-lived  The  Chriftian  religion,  for  many 
reafons,  is  unfit  for  the  faSulnus  ornaments  of  poetry  :  The  plan  of  Milton's  work  being  altogether 
theological,  his  fupernatural  beings  form  not  the  machinery,  but  are  the  principal  a&ors  iu  the 
poem.  The  introduction  o!  allegory,  after  the  manner  of  Voltaire,  is  liable  to  many  objections.; 
and  though  a  mere  hiftorical  epic  poem  like  "  Leonidas,"  may  have  its  beauties,  it  will  always  be 
inferior  to  the  f  ;rce  and  pathetic  words  of  tragedy,  and  mud  rcfign  to  that  fpecies  of  poetry  the 
precedency  which  the  former  compofition  has  always  challenged  among  the  productions  of  human 
genius 

The  fable  of  the  Efiigoniad  is  this :  The  poet  fuppofes,  that  Cajfont/ra,  the  daughter  of  Oleander 
king  of  Pelignium  in  Italy,  was  purfued  by  the  Jove  of  Echetus,  a  barbarous  tyrant  in  the  neigh 
bourhood  and  a<.  her  father  rejected  his  addrcffes,  he  drew  on  himfelf  the  refentment  of  the  ty 
rant,  who  made  war  upon  him,  and  forced  him  to  retire  into  Htolia,  where  DiomeJ  gave  him  pro- 
tedlion.  This  hero  falls  himfelf  in  love  with  Cajfjndra  and  is  fo  fortunate  as  to  make  equal  int.. 
preflions  on  her  heart;  but,  before  'he .  completion  of  his  marrriage,  he  i*  calltd  to  the  fiege  of 
Thebes,  and  leaves,  as  he  luppofes,  Ca/andra  in  Etoha  with  her  father.  B.it  Cajfindra,  anxious  for 
her  lover's  fafety,  and  unwilling  to  part  from  the  object  of  her  affcaions,  had  iecretly  put  on  a 
man's  habit,  had  attended  him  in  the  camp,  and  had  f-iught  by  his  fide  in  all  his  battles.  The 
poem  opens  with  the  aj.pea'  ance  <  f  the  Efigoni  before  the  walls  of  Thebes,  refolute  to  fignahze 
their  own  names,  and  to  rtdecm  the  Argive  jilory,  by  its  reduction.  The  gods,  aflembled  on 
the  1  u-.dred  heads  of  hig!  O  ympus  view  from  afar  Thebesdoomed  topeufti  by  the  Argivcst  and 
principally  by  the  hand*  of  1  Homed.  Juno  and  Pallas,  favourable  to  the  Argiw,  feek  the  ruin  of 
Thebes  ttnus,  in  order  to  fruftrate  the  dtfign  of  b'  th  Juno  and  Pallat,  deliberates  concernii.g  the 
proper  method  of  raifmg  the  fiege  The  fitteft  expedient  fcems  to  be  the  exciting  in  DiomeJ  a 
jealoufy  of  Chandra  and  perfuarling  him,  that  her  affedi.  n*  were  fecretly  engaged  to  Echetns,  and 
that  the  tyrant  had  invaded  Etolia  in  pnrfuit  of  his  miarefs.  Zehtyfi.  a  Paphian  nymph,  fprung 
from  (Jupid  and  Aledo,  (ff;rs  her  leivices,  for  this  erd,  to  the  goddefs. 

G  ddefs    thefe  ftjafts  fliall  compafs  what  you  aim, 
My  mother  dipt  their  points  in  btygian  flume  ; 
Where'er  my  father's  darts  their  way  have  found, 
M  ne  f  >llow  deep,  and  poifon  all  the  wound. 
Bv    hrfe   we  lo<  n,  with  triumph,  Ihall  behold 
Pallas  dtctiv'd,  and  Juno's  f.lf  controll'd. 

Her  perfon  and  flight  are  painted  in  the  nv.ft  charadleriftfc  habiliments  anjj  fplendid  colowt 
that  poetry  affords. 

Firft  to  her  feet  the  winged  flioes  ihe  binds,  • 
Which  tread  the  air  and  mount  the  rapid  winds; 
Aloft  they  btar  her  through  th*  ethereal  plain, 
Above  the  folid  earth  ana  liquid  main ; 

VOL.  XL 


THE   LIFE  OF    WILKI& 

Her  arrows  next  fhe  takes,  of  pointed  ftee?, 
For  fi^ht  too  fmall,  but  terrible  to  feel.—- 
A  fit;ur'd  zone,  myfterially  defign'd, 
Ground  her  waift  her  yellow  robe  confin'd; 
There  dark  Sufpicion  lurk'd,  of  fable  hue, 
There  hafty  Rage,  her  deadly  dagger  drew; 
Pale  Envy  inly  pin'd,  and  by  her  fide 
Stood  Frenzy  raging  with  his  arms  unty'd. 
Affronted  P*ide,  with  thirft  of  vengeance  burn'd, 
And  Love's  excefs  to  deepeft  hatred  turn'd. 
The  virgin  laft.  around  her  ftioulders  flung 
.  -   The  bow,  and  by  her  fide  the  quiver  hung  : 
Then,  fpringing  up,  her  airy  courfe  fhe  bends 
For  Thebes ;  and  lightly  o'er  the  tents  defcends. 
The  fon  of  1'ydeus  'micift  his  bands  fhe  found 
In  arms  complete,  repofing  on  the  ground  ; 
And  as  he  flept,  the  hero  thus  addrefs'd  ; 
Her  form  to  fancy's  waking  eye  exprefs'd. 

Diomed,  moved  by  the  infligations  of  jealoufy,  and  eager  to  defend  his  miflrefs  and  his  coun 
try,  calls  an  affembly  of  the  confederated  kings,  and  propofes  to  raife  the  Cege  of  Thebes,  on  ac 
count  of  the  difficulty  of  trie  enterprife  and  dangers  which  furround  the  army.  The  kings 
debate  concerning  the  propofal ;  and  here  appears  a  great  diverfity  of  characters  and  fentiments, 
fuitable  to  each.  Thtfcus,  the  general,  breaks  out  into  a  paffion  at  the  propofal ;  but  is  pacified  by 
Ncjlor.  Idomtneus  rifes,  and  reproaches  Diomed  for  his  diflionourable  counfel ;  and,  among  other  to 
pics,  upbraids  him  with  his  degeneracy  from  his  father's  bravery.  The  debate  is  clofed  by 
Ulyffes,  who  informs  the  princes,  that  the  Thebans  are  preparing  to  march  out  in  order  to  attack 
them,  and  that  it  is  vain  to  deliberate  any  longer  concerning  the  continuance  of  the  war.  The 
tings  refolve  to  profecute  the  war,  and  Dlomed,  though  ftung  with  love,  and  jealoufy  of  Echetus,  yield* 
to  their  voice.  The  nations  and  tribes  that  oppofed  the  Argives,  being,  defcribed  in  the  manner 
of  Homer,  a  battle  commences  before  the  walls  of  Thebes ;  arid  the  Theban  troops,  led  on  by  the 
brave  Leopbron,  the  fon  of  Creta  the  king,  rcpulfe  the  enemy.  Pallas  defcends  to  the  aid  of  the 
jSrgivcs,  in  the  form  of  Homo  lean,  Diomefs  charioteer  being  {lain.  CaJJandra,  ftill  concealed 
Tinder  the  arms  and  drefs  of  a  foldier,  prefenting  herfeif  to  DicmeJ,  offers  to  take  that  office  upon 
Jierfelf.  Diomed  declines  the  .offer.  Pallas  herfeif  affumes  the  reins,  and  conducts  Dlomed  in  the 
fight.  He  kills  Letpbron.  Every  thing  gives  way  to  this  chief,  guided  by  the  wifdom,  and"1  forti 
fied  by  the  arms  of  the  immortal  goddefs  of  Prudence  and  Wifdom  :  But  Mercury ,  at  the  com 
mand  of  fupiter,  gives  order  to  Pbabus  to  lafti  his  fteeds,  and  to  conclude  the  day,  left  the  rapid 
fuccefs  of  Diomed  fhould  precipitate  the  fall  of  Thebes  before  the  time  fixed  by  Fate.  The  darknefs 
of  the  night  interrupts  the  fight,  and  Diomed  is  ftripped  by  Mercury  of  his  divine  armour.  Thii 
battle  is  full  01  the  fpirit  of  Homer.  And  now  the  Theban  princes,  according  te  ancient  cuftom, 
fat  in  council  in  the  gate ;  the  king  oppreffcd  with  public  cares,  and  with  private  grief  for  the 
death  of  his  fon  Lropbron,  propofes  to  fue  for  a  truce  of  feven  days,  that  they  might  grace  the 
dead  with  funeral  obfequies.  The  prieft  of  Apollo,  accompanied  by  Clytophaa,  repairs  to  the  Argivc 
tents,  to  aflc  a  truce ;  and  here  follows  a  long,  but  very  interefting  epifode,  that  enchants  the 
reader  with  the  wildnefs  of  Salvator  Rofa,  and  aftonifhes  him  with  the  terrors  _of  Sophocles. 
This  epifode  is  intended  as  an  experiment  in  that  kind  of  fiction  which  diftinguifhes  the  "  Odyf- 
fey."  The  Tbeban  heralds  are  conducted,  with  fafety,  to  the  royal  tent,  where  the  Arrive  princes 
receive  them  with  marks  of  kindnefs.  After  a  fplendid  repaft,  Clytupbon,  with  great  art,  ad- 
dreffes  the  Pylian  chief  Ncjlor,  reminds  him  that  he  was  his  gueft  (a  circumftance  which  formed 
si  ftrong  band  of  friendfnip,  as  it  does  ftill  among  barbarous  nations)  when  he  fled  from  the  defert 
ftiores  of  Trinacria  :  Having  gained  the  favour  and  the  attention  of  Ncjlor ,  he  relates  the  wonderful 
ftory  of  his  life.  Uytoplon  was  the  joungeft  fon  of  Orfilochus,  king  of  Rhodes. 

-V 


,     THELIFEOFWILKIE.  tfc 

His  yrungeft  hope  I  was,  and  fcarce  had  feen 
The  tenth  returning  fummer  clothe  the  gretn, 
,  When  pirates  fnatch'd  me  from  my  native  land,  &c. 

He  relates  how  he  arrived  at  Trinacrla,  efcaped  from  the  pirates,  and  how  that  lawlefs  crew 
perifhed  by  the  inhuman  hands  of  a  Cyclops.  In  this  defert  ifland  he  remained  for  ten  year*. 
His  folitary  life,  his  terror  of  the  Cydtpt,  his  efcape  from  the  domain  and  from  the  threats  of  that 
monfter,  who  difcovered  him  in  his  flight,  form  a  wild  and  romantic  tale,  which  affords  a  fatis- 
faaion  of  a  plejfing  though  melancholy  nature.  The  Argiw  chiefs,  won  by  the  eloquence  of  Ncjlor, 
agree  to  the  truce.  Diomed  alone  remonftrates,  and  retires  fuilenly  to  his  tent.  The  poet,  in  imi 
tation  of  Homer,  defcribes  the  funeral  obfequies  and  various  games  in  honour  of  the  dead.  The 
games  he  has  chofen  are  different  from  thofe  which  are  to  be  found  among  the  ancients,  and  the 
incidents  are  new  and  curious.  He  meditates  a  defign  to  attack  the  unarmed  Thcbans,  confiding 
in  the  truce,  and  bufied  in  burying  their  dead.  His  friend,  and  the  guardian  of  his  youth, 
Deiphobust  diffuades  him  from  fuch  enormous  injuftice,  and  expoftulates  on  this  fubjecSt,  with  a  free- 
dom  which  provokes  the  fiery  temper  of  Diomed  to  lift  his  hand  againft  his  fric.lti,  and  to  put 
him  to  death.  This  incident,  which  is  apt  to  furprife  us,  feems  to  have  been  copied  by  the  poet 
from  that  circumftance  in  the  life  of  Alexander,  where  the  heroic  conqueror,  moved  by  a  fudden 
palfion,  flabs  Clytus,  his  ancient  friend,  by  whom  his  life  had  been  formerly  favcd  in  battle.  The 
repentance  of  Diomed  is  equal  to  that  of  Alexander.  No  fooner  had  he  ftruck  the  fatal  blow  than 
his  eyes  are  opened  ;  he  is  fenfible  of  his  guilt  and  fliame ;  he  refufes  all  confolation  ;  abflains  even 
from  food,  and  {huts  himfelf  up  alone  in  his  tent.  His  followers,  ftruck  with  horror  at  the  violence 
of  his  paffion,  keep  at  a  diflance  from  him.  A  tumult  cnfucs,  which  i*  quelled  by  the  eloquence  of 
Ulyffes.  While  Diomed,  abandoned  by  all,  lay  outftretched  -n  the  duft,  refigned  to  melancholy,  re- 
morfe,  and  defpair,  Cajfantfra  enters  his  tent  with  a  potion,  which  (he  had  prepared  for  him.  The 
virgin  endeavours,  by  an  artful  tale,  to  Ihun  difcovery,  and  to  conceal  her  love.  While  (he  Hands 
before  him  alone,  her  timidity  and  paflion  betray  her  fex ;  and  Diomed  immediately  perceives  her 
to  be  CoJJandra.  As  his  repentance  f<T  the  murder  of  Deiplobut  was  now  the  ruling  paflion  in  his 
mind,  he  is  not  moved  by  tendernefs  for  CaJJlindra  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  confiders  her  as  the  caufe, 
however  innocent,  of  the  murder  of  his  friend,  and  of  his  own  guilt. 

Thofe  eyes  I  fee,  wliofe  foft  enchantment  flole 

My  peace,  and  ftirr'd  a  tempeft  in  my  foul; 

By  their  mild  light,  in  innocence  airay'd, 

To  guilty  madncfs  was  my  heart  betray'd. 

Dcijhobus  is  dead  :  his  mournful,  ghoft 

Lamenting,  wanders  on  the  Stygian  coaft; 

And  blames  my  wrath.     Oh  !  that  the  fun  which  gave 

Light  to  thy  birth,  had  fet  upon  thy  grave  : 

And  he  had  liv'd  L  now  lifelefs  on  the  plain, 

A  corfe  he  lies,  and  number'd  with  the  flain. 

\ 

Overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  treatment  (lie  received,  CaJanJra  repair?  to  a  rural  femplc,  facred 
to  Ceres,  whofe  protection  flic  implores,  proftrate  on  the  ground,  and  bathed  in  a  flood  of  lean. 
At  this  inftant,  Zelotypc  defcended  from  Penus,  but  her  counfels  were  overthrown  by  PaUai,  dif- 
guifed  in  the  fhape  of  Amyelea,  Ca/andras  mother.  Ca/andra',  addrels  to  Amyclea  will  not 
lofe,  by  a  comparifon,  with  the  addrefs  of  Anchifes  to  ^Eneas  in  the  Eljfian  fields.  She  re- 
folves  to  return  to  her  father's  houfe,  and  had  begun  to  put  her  defign  in  execution,  when  (he 
fell  into  the  hands  ••{  the  Thebans.  The  fierce  chiefs  decree,  that  flie  {hall  fall  a  larrifice  to  the 
ghofts  of  Leofbron  and  Andrtmo*.  This  ftern  purpofe  i.«  oppofed  by  Pkritto,  who  infift*  upon  the 
faith  of  treaties.  A  difpute  arifes  on  the  fubjecft  ;  feme  of  the  princes  infift  on  the  death  of  Ctjfan, 
dra,  others  declare  themfelves  ready  to  protect  her  life,  at  the  rifle  of  their  own.  And  thi.«  d,fc.  rd 
had  raged  in  civil  blood,  had  not  Clytofbtn  aypeafed  the  tumult,  by  propofing  to  praaifc  on  the 

bij 


»  THE   LIFE    OF   WILKIE. 

paffions  of  Diomed,  by  means  of  fo  dear  a  pledge  of  his  love,  and  to  engage  him  to  withdraw  his 
fences  from  the  walls  of  Thibet.  Diomed,  his  rage  fubfiding  into  grief,  inquires  at  every  leader 
for  Caffandra,  and  is  ftung  with  compudtion  for  his  barbarous  ufage  of  that  lovely  affcftinnate, 
and  patient  maid.  Whilft  his  mind  is  thus  Ibftened,  an  herald  appear^  fr<;m  the  gates  of  TLebis, 
relates  the  fate  of  Cnjfandra,  and  delivers  the  king's  mrflage,  threatening  to  put  her  to  death  if 
Diomed  would  not  agree  to  a  fepnrate  truce  with  Thebes.  This  prxpofal  raifes  in  the  mind  of  Diomed 
oppofite  contending  paflions.  Agreeably  to  the  furious  character  of  that  chief,  the  poet  fuppofes 
that  his  predominant  pafli  a  for  revenge  is  firft  excited.  Ke  rages  and  vows  vengeance,  if  the 
Thebans  fhonld  dare  to  violate  the  captive.  An  embroidered  fcarf,  a  prefent  from  Caffindra, 
brings  her  full  into  the  view  of  Diomed,  with  all  her  charms.  His  rage  is  fufpended,  and  he 
refigns  his  mind  to  love,  to  grief,  and  tender  fear.  He  prupofes  a  truce  of  twenty  days,  which 
the  Thehans  accept.  In  the  mean  time,  Dicnice*  returns,  who  had  been  fent  to  the  wilderntfs  of 
<Eta  to  recal  Hercules  for  the  protection  of  his  native  city.  He  relates  the  death  of  Hcrculej, 
and  the  eTcruc>»<ing  pains  of  the  envenomed  robe,  which  had  been  fent  him  by  the  hands  of  (he 
jealous  Dcjanira.  He  relates  alfo  the  fate  of  C/eon,  fon  of  the  king  of  Thebes,  flain  by  PhiLofletct 
for  an  attempt  to  (leal  away  the  arms  of  hi.s  friend  Hcrcults,  now  enrolled  among  the  gods  This 
epifode  is  an  attempt  towards  heroic  tragedy,  in  the  manner  <  f  Sophocles,  and  breathes  al>  the  hor 
rors,  and  vehemence  and  atrocity  of  that  great  jx>et.  If  the  fublimity  of  his  imagination,  and  the 
energy  of  his  llyle  appear  any  where  confpicuous,  it  i^  in  this  cp.fode,  which  we  (hall  not  fcruplc  to 
compare  with  any  poetry  in  the  fnglifh  lai  guage.  Nothing  can  be  more  pathetic  than  the  com* 
plaints  of  Hercules ,  when  the  poifon  oi  the  envenomed  robe  begins  firfl  to  prey  upon  him. 

O  cool  my  boiling  blood,  ye  winds  that  blow 
From  mountains  loaned  with  eternal  inow, 
And  crack  the  icy  cliffs  :  in  vain  !  in  vain  ! 
Your  rigour  cannot  quench  my  raging  pain  ! 
For  round  this  heart  the  furies  wave  their  brands, 
And  wring  my  entrails  with  iheir  burning  hands. 

The  virtue  of  Hercules,  fuftaining  him  under  the  weight  of  infernal  pain,  is  defcribed  in  z  manner 
rot  unworthy  of  the  fupreme  grandeur  «  f  the  ft  bjeft ;  and  is  a  (pe&acle,  if  we  may  be  allowed,  with 
Wilkie,  to  adopt  the  ftntiments  and  the  flyle  <>f  the  ancients,  we  would  fay  even  the  immortal  godf 
would  regard  with  comp'acency  and  approbation. 

The  Theban  king,  enraged  by  the  death  of  his  fons,  even  to  madnefs,  defpair,  and  hatred  of  the 
gods,  inftigates  his  martial  powers  to  attack  the  Argivts,  fecure  in  the  truce,  and  employed  in  bn- 
lying  the  dead  The  Argives.  encouraged  by  Pallas,  in  the  form  of  Mentor^  rally  their  forces  and 
refift  the  Thebans  with  bravery,  but  with<  ut  fticcefs.  The  ,  rgivc  bands"  give  way,  and  would 
have  periflied  by  the  hands  of  an  enraged  victorious  enemy,  had  not  Pallas  dispatched  Vlyffei  to  fo- 
licit  the  aid  of  DiemeJ.  The  fpt- tch  of  UkJJes,  in  which  the  character  of  the  fpeaker  is  well  fnp- 
pcrted,  had  its  full  influence  en  the  mirid  of  a  generous  warrior,  ambitious  of  glory,  and  quickly 
fenfible  to  the  flings  of  reproach.  He  confeffe'  his  pafiion  for  the  captive  Caffandra;  whom  he  de- 
fcribes  with  all  the  exaggerations  of  love.  Uhffei,  having  now  learned  the  caul'e  of  Ditmed's  inacti 
vity,  addreffts  himfelf  to  him  with  fuccefs  He  fhows,  that  no  faith  was  to  be  expeded  from  the 
perfidious  Thebaiif,  and  that  the  fafety  of  Caffam(ra  might  be  obtained  by  force,  but  was  not  to 
be  hoped  for  from  a  regard  ^to  jufticc.  M-  vtrd  by  this  reaiening,  Diomed  takes  the  field.  The 
Ibebans  are  forced  to  retreat  and  the  ruthlcfs  Creon  difpatches  an  affaffin  to  murder  Cajfandra. 
Here  opens  a  fcene  truly  affctfting.  1  he  queen  of  Thebes  and  her  maids  fat  lamenting  with  the 
fair  captive,  talking  to  her  in  the  language  tf  complacency  and  tendernefs,  affuring  her  that  her 
innocence,  her  fex,  would  protect  her,  and  that  nine  fhort  days  would  reftore  her  freedom  :  But 
CaJ^in4,tff,  prepared  to  meet  her  fate,  by  a  dream,  arms  hedelf  with  magnanimous  refolution,  and, 
•when  the  murderer  approached,  with  the  fword  hared  lor  execution,  in  the  midft  o£  her 
attendants,  {he  alone  appeared  ered  and  undaunted. 


THE   LIFE    OF  WILKIE. 
-For  the  blow  prepar'd, 


With  b<  th  her  hands  her  fhining  neck  (he  bar'd, 
And  round  her  head  a  purple  garment  roll'd, 
With  leaves  of  filver  mark'd,  and  flowing  gold. 
Rai^'d  for  the  ftroke,  the  glittering  faulchion  hung, 
And  (wift  defcending,  bore  the  head  along. 
A  tide  of  gore,  diffus'd  in  purple  dreams, 
Dafhes  the  wall,  and  o'er  the  pavrmenr  (wims. 
Prone  to  the  ground,  the  hradlefs  trunk  reclines, 
And  life,  in  long  convulfive  throbs,  rcfigns. 

In  the  mean  time,  Diomed  advifes  the  Arglvt  chiefs  to  take  Tletet  by  affault.  J&mcntat  oppofes 
fo  rafh  a  defign  ;  and  in  the  midft  of  this  difpute,  Crcon  difplays,  on  the  point  of  a  fycar  the  head 
of  Ca/andra.  Diomtd  leads  on  his  powers  to  the  aff.ult  of  Tbcbct,  while  the  other  .  .rgive  bandt, 
in  favour  of  his  attempt,  diftrad  the  foe  by  mock  approaches.  The  city  is  taken.  The  queen, 
made  captive,  implores  the  mercy  of  Diomed.  U'y/es  adviles.  him  to  offer  her  up  a  vidim  to  the 
manes  of  Ca/andra.  The  generous  hero  rcjcds  the  barbarous  counfel ;  and  the  poem  concludes 
with  the  death  of  Creon. 

It  is  a  manifeft  advantage  in  the  EplgoniaJ,  that  the  fcenes  it  defcribes  lie  within  a  Tery  narrow 
fpace  of  time  ;  that  events  follow  events  in  rapid  fucceffion  ;  and  that,  on  the  whole,  it  maintains 
the  clofeft  and  moft  perfect  unity  of  time,  place,  and  adtion.  The  moral  is  no  other  than  what  is 
the  moral  of  many  tragedies,  the  fatal  effects  of  love.  But  the  poet  has  found  means  artfully  to 
extend  the  moral  to  paffion  in  gentral :  For  DiomtJ,  in  a  kind  of  peroration  to  the  whole  of  what 
had  patted,  deplores  the  predominancy  of  paffion,  ever  deaf  to  reaLn  and  cool  reflection. 

While  I,  unhappy,  by  its  dida'es  fway'd, 
My  guardian  murder'd,  and  the  holt  betray 'J. 

The  fable  is  evidently  irgenioufly  artificial;  but  the  execution  is  better  than  the  defign,  the  poe 
try  fuperior  to  the  fable,  ai.d  the  colouring  of  the  particular  parts  more  excellent  than  the  general 
plan  of  the  whole.  Ot  the  loi:r  great  epic  poems  which  have  been  the  admiration  of  mankind,  the 
"  Iliad,"  "  ./Eneid,"  "  Jerufalem,"  and  '•  Paradife  Loft,"  the  •'  Jerufalem"  alone  would  make  a  to 
lerable  novel,  if  reduced  to  profe,  and  related  without  that  fplendi  ur  of  verfification'and  imagery 
by  which  it  is  fupported ;  yet,  in  the  opinion  of  many  great  judges,  the  "  Jerufalem"  is  the  lead 
perftd  of  thcfe  productions,  chiefly  becaufe  it  has  kail  nature  and  fimplidty  in  the  fentiments,  and 
is  mi  ft  liable  to  the  objfdion  of  affcdati*  n  and  conceit.  The  ftory  of  a  po<_m,  whatever  may  be 
imagined,  is  the  leaft  ifiVmial  part  of  it;  the  force  of  the  verfificati<  n,  the  vivacity  of  the  images, 
the  jtiftnefs  of  the  defcriptions,  the  natural  play  of  the  jaflions,  are  the  chief  circumftanccs  which  di- 
ftingu-fh  the  grear  j.oet  from  the  prclaic  novelift  ;  and  vo  will  venture  to  affirm,  that  all  thefe  ad 
vantages,  efpecially  the  three  former  are  to  be  found  in  an  eminent  degree  in  the  Efigoniad.  Wil- 
kie,  ii  fpired  with  the  true  genius  of  Greece,  and  fmir  with  the  moft  profound  veneration  for  Ho 
mer,  dildains  all  frivolous  ornaments  ;  and,  relying  entirely  on  h.-s  fcblime  imagination  and  his  ner 
vous  and  harmonious  exprefllon,  has  ventured  to  prefent  to  his  reader  the  naked  beauties  of  nature, 
and  challenges,  for  his  partizans,  all  the  admirers  of  geruine  antiquity. 

There  is  one  eircumftance  in  which  Wilkie  has  carried  his  boldnefsof  copying  antiquity  beyond 
the  pradice  of  many,  even  judicious  moderns.  He  has  drawn  his  perfonages,  not  only  with  all  the 
Simplicity  of  the  Grecian  heroes,  but  alfo  with  fome  degree  of  their  roughntfs,  and  even  of  their  fe 
rocity.  This  is  a  eircumftance  which  a  mere  modern  is  apt  to  find  fault  with  in  Homer,  and  which, 
perhaps,  he  will  not  eafily  excufe  in  his  imitator.  It  is  certain  that  the  ideas  of  manners  are  much 
changed  fmce  the  age  of  Homer,  and  though  the  "  Iliad"  wa«  always,  among  the  ancients,  conceiv 
ed  to  be  a  panegyric  on  the  Greeks,  yet  the  reader  is  now  almofl  always  on  the  fide  of  the  Trojani, 
and  is  much  more  interested  for  the  humane  and  foft  manners  of  Priam,  Heclor,  Andromache,  Sarpe- 
<Jou,  /Eneas,  Glautus,  nay,  even  of  Paris  and  Helen,  thaofor  the  levere  aud  cruel  bravery  of  Achillc*, 

* 


xx!i  THE    LIFE    OF   WILKIE. 

Agamemnon,  and  the  other  Grecian  heroes.  Senfible  of  this  inconvenience,  Fenelen,  in  his  "  Te- 
lemaque,"  has  foftened  extremely  rhe  harfh  manners  of  the  heroic  ages,  and  has  contented  himfelf 
with  retaining  that  amiable  fimplicity  by  which  thefe  ages  were  diflinguifhed.  If  the  reader  be 
difplcafed  that  the  Britim  poet  has  not  followed  the  example  <T  the  French  writer,  he  muft  at  lead 
allow,  that  he  has  drawn  a  more  exact  and  faithful  copy  of  antiquity,  and  has  made  fewer  facrifices 
of  truth  to  ornament. 

The  characters  of  the  Eplgtnlad  are  moftly  the  fame  with  thofe  of  the  "  Iliad."  Diome:!,  jlgamemnon, 
JMcnelaus,  UlyJJes,  NeRor,  Uomeneus,  Merion,  and  even  Tberfitti,  all  appear  in  different  parts  of  the  poem, 
and, in  general,  ad  parts  fuitable  to  the  characters  drawn  of  them  by  Homer.  The  epilbdcs  are  art 
fully  infcrtcd,  interefling  and  natural.  The  language  is  Ample  and  artlefs  in  narration  ;  but  in  de- 
fcription,  often  brld,  figurative  and  fublime.  The  images  are  taken  from  rural  life,  or  the  great 
and  beautiful  objects  of  nature.  There  is  a  littlenefs  in  the  moft  ingenious  arts.  Nature  only  cor- 
refponds  to  the  elevated  tone  of  the  epic  poet.  The  fimilcs  are  perhaps  too  frequent.  This  fre 
quency  Wilkie  would  doubtlefs  have  defended  by  the  example  of  Homer ;  but  Homer  himfelf 
feems  to  offend  in  this  particular.  The  numbers  are  elaborately  correct,  delicately  polifhed,  and 
exquifitely  harmonious.  Pope  feems  to  have  been  his  model  for  verfification,  and  he  has  borrow 
ed  many  lines  and  expreffions  from  him.  But  he  is  not  a  fervile  imitator.  He  has  judicioufiy 
diverfified  the  uniformity  of  Pope,  by  adopting  the  variety  of  paufe,  accent,  cadence,  and  diction,  fo 
eminently  confpicuous  in  Dryden,  and  fo  abfolufely  effcntial  to  the  harmony  of  true  poetry. 

An  ingenious  foreigner,  whofe  mind  feems  far  fupcrior  to  bigotry  and  national  prejudice,  in  his 
"  Effay  on  the  Revolutions  of  Literature,"  has  mentioned  the  Epigoniad  in  terms  of  high  refpect, 
and  accounted  for  the  fewnefs  of  its  readers,  not  from  any  fault  in  the  poem,  but  from  the  circum- 
ftance  that  the  Englifh  are  acquainted  with  Homer,  not  only  in  the  original,  but  by  means  of  the 
celebrated  tranflation  of  Pope. 

"  The  Epigoniad  of  Wilkie,"  fays  Profeffor  Denina,  "  would  have  been  a  moft  admirable  poem, 
had  it  been  written  aeco  years  ago  .  But  as  Homer  is  now  fo  well  known  in  England,  we  cannot 
be  furprifed  that  Wilkie  has  not  a  greater  number  of  readers.  We  Italians,  at  prefent,  neglect  the 
Avarcbide  dl  Lingi  Almanni,  which,  like  the  Epigoniad,  is  too  clofe  an  imitation  of  the  "  Iliad." 

There  are  others,  no  doubt,  hefides  Profeffor  Denina,  who,  while  they  will  not  hefitate  to  allow 
no  frr.al!  (hare  of  merit  to  this  poet,  will  yet  be  ready  to  confider  his  poem  as  too  clofe  an  imitation 
of  Homei*;  and  think  that  he  has  been  unfortunate  in  the  choice  of  his  fubject. 

Wilkie,  aware  of  thefe  objection?,  has  endeavoured  to  obviate  them  in  his  Preface,  which  hat 
been  univerfally  admired,  and  than  which  there  has  not  appeared  a  piece  of  juftcr  or  more  manly 
criticifm  fmce  the  times  of  Ariftotle  and  Horace.  He  juflifies  himfelf,  at  great  length,  in  having 
formed  his  poem  rpon  hiflorical  circumftances  already  known,  and  introduced  characters  with 
which  the  reader  is  before  acquainted,  and  alfo  fhows  the  neccffity  he  was  under  of  taking  many  of 
the  hiflorical  circumfbnces  from  the  ancient  poets ;  for  tradition,  the  proper  foundation  of  epic 
poetry,  is  only  to  be  found  in  their  writings,  and,  therefore,  muft  be  ufed  like  a  common  flock,  and 
not  confidertd  as  the  property  of  individuals. 

"  Tradition,"  fays  the  Preface,  "  is  the  heft  ground  on  which  a  fable  can  be  built,  not  only  be- 
caufe  it  gives  the  appearance  of  reality  to  things  that  are  merely  fictitious,  but  likewife  becaufe  it 
fupplies  a  poet  with  the  moft  proper  materials  for  hi1;  invention,  to  work  upon." 

We  might  have  expected,  from  this  remark,  that  he  had  not  only  taken  tradition  as  the  ground 
of  his  fable,  but  employed  it  alfo  to  guide  him  through  the  narration  :  But  we  find  that  he  has  not 
enly  forfook,  but  contradicted  it  on  feveral  occafions. 

Euftathius,  in  his  Commentary  upon  the  fourth  book  of  the  "  Iliad,"  gives  us  a  lift  of  the  nine 
warriors  who  were  called  the  Epigoni,  moft  of  whom  Wilkie  never  mentions  in  the  Epigoniad,  but 
inftead  of  them,  introduces,  not  the  defcendants  of  thofe  unfortunate  heroes  who  fell  before  Thebes 
in  a  former  expedition,  but  feveral  of  their  contemporaries ;  as  Tbefeui  and  Nt/lor,  who  had  no 
motives  of  revenge  to  prompt  their  undertaking,  Tbrfeus,  in  particular,  was  not  there,  for  we 


THE   LIFE    OF  WILKIE. 

find  In  the  «  Suppliants"  of  Euripides,  that  Me/en*  went  upon  a  former  exptdltion  to 
to  procure  funeral  honours  for  the  fcven  fathers  of  the  Epigani,  who  lay  unburied  before  the  wall 
of  that  city;  and,  at  the  end  of  the  fame  tragedy,  we  are  told,  that  the  capture  of  the  city  wa« 
referved  for  the  Epigoni  alone.  Wiltie  alfo  gives  Thfns  the  condaA  of  the  war,  in  contradiction 
to  Diodorus  Siculus,  who  affirms,  that  by  the  advice  of  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  Alcmzon  was  cunfti- 
tuted  generaUffimo  :  He  likewifc  makes  Crean  king  of  Thebes,  but  Crttn  had  been  dead  four  ye*r§ 
before ;  and  Euftathius  pofitively  fays,  that  Laodama,  was,  at  chat  time,  their  king.  Contrary  to  all 
order  of  time,  Agamemnon  and  Menelaus  are  introduced  a*  principal  characters,  an  auachronifm 
which  he  ccdeavours  to  excufe,  by  alleging  that  it  was  a  fad  of  little  confequence,  and  that  he 
did  not  therefore  choofe  to  deprive  himfelf  of  two  illuftrious  names.  Inftead  of  StLcntlus,  who 
is  faid  to  have  accompanied  Diomedin  this  expedition,  he  has  fubftituted"  Ulyffei,  a  firft-rate  hero,  in 
the  place  of  a  (econd-rate  one,  and  a  name  which  every  body  is  acquainted  with,  in  the  place  of  one 
little  known." 

But  though  Wilkie's  difagreement  with  Homer  in  point  of  fact,  is  not  more  remarkable  than 
his  difregard  of  the  traditions  of  the  ancients,  we  muft  acknowledge,  that,  in  giving  up  the  con- 
dud  of  his  poem  to  an  invention  fruitful  of  incidents,  he  has  given  us  a  regular  heroie  ftory 
well  connected  in  it»  parts,  adorned  with  characters  which  ftrengly  attach  the  reader,  aad  make 
him  take  part  in  the  dangers  they  encounter,  embellifhed  by  mythological  fictions,  which  gra'ify 
and  fill  the  imagicacion,  and  abounding  in  interefting  Gtuations,  which  awaken  the  feelings  of  hn« 
manity.  He  is  fome  times  awful  and  auguft  ;  often  tender  and  pathetic ;  and  intermingles  valiant 
achievements  with  the  gentle  and  pleafing  fcencs  of  love,  friendfhip,  and  affection. 

There  is  nothing  more  wonderful,  in  this  admirable  poem,  than  the  intimate  acquaintance  it  dif- 
plays,  not  only  with  human  nature,  but  with  the  turn  and  manner  of  thinking  of  the  ancients,  their 
hiflory,  opinions,  manners,  and  cuftoms.  There  are  few  books  that  contain  more  ancient  learning 
than  the  Epigoniad.  To  the  reader,  acquainted  with  remote  antiquity,  it  yields  high  entertainment ; 
and  we  are  fo  far  frqm  think-ng,  that  an  acquaintance  with  Homer  hinders  men  from  reading  thii 
poem,  that  we  are  of  opinion  it  is  chiefly  by  fuch  as  are  converfant  in  the  writings  of  that  poet, 
that  the  Epigoniad  is,  or  will  be  read.  And  as  the  manners  therein  defcribed  are  not  founded  on  any 
'  circumftances  that  are  temporary  and  fugacious,  but  arife  from  the  original  frame  and  constitution 
of  human  nature,  and  are  confequcntly  the  fame  in  all  nations  and  periods  of  the  world  ;  it  is  pro. 
bable,  if  the  Englifh  language  {hall  not  undergo  very  material  and  fudden  changes,  that  the  epic 
poem  of  Wilkie  will  be  read  and  admired,  when  others,  that  are  in  greater  vogue  in  the  prcfent 
day,  fhall  be,  overlooked  and  forgotten. 

In  the  EpitroniaJ,  Wilkie  has,  in  general,  followed  fuccefsfully  the  footfteps  of  Homer.  In  the 
Dream  annexed  to  that  poem,  he  has  chofen  Spenfer  for  his  model,  and  ventured  to  engage  in  a 
rivalfhip  with  the  great  father  of  allegorical  poetry.  In  this  fmall  poem,  in  which  the  manner  of 
Spenfer  is  finely  imitated,  the  poet  fuppofes  himfelf  to  be  introduced  to  Homer,  who  cenTure* 
his  poem  in  fome  particulars,  and  excufes  it  in  others.  It  is,  indeed,  a  fpecies  of  apology  for  the 
Efigwiad,  written  in  a  very  lively  and  elegant  manner.  It  may  be  compared  to  a  wcll-polifted 
gem  of  the  pureft  water,  and  cut  into  the  moft  beautiful  form.  He  apologifes  for  fo  clofely  imi- 
tating,  and  even  borrowing  from  Homer.  He  alleges,  that  Plato  and  V"irgil  did  fo  before  him.  Hit 
praife  *f  Heftod  and  Tbeocritus  is/uch  as  might  be  expected  from  an  agriculturift  and  a  poet.  Fhofe 
-•who  would  judge  of  Wiikie's  talents  for  poetry,  without  peiufing  his  larger  work,  may  fatisfy  their 
'  curiofity  by  running  over  this  fhort  p<.em  They  will  fee  the  fame  force  of  imagination  and  har 
mony  of  numbers,  which  diftinguifh  his  longer  performance,  and  may  thence,  with  fmall  applica 
tion,  receive  a  favourable  impreffion  of  his  genius. 

His  Fables  difcover  an  ingenious  and  acute  turn  of  mind,  and  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  the 
nature  and  ways  of  men  ;  but  they  are  not  recommended  by  any  great  degree  of  poignancy  or  poe 
tical  fpirit.  Simplicity  is,  indeed,  the  greateft  excellence  of  fable :  But,  in  the  FMu  of  Wilkte, 


«Iv  THE  LIFE   OF   W1LKIE. 

there  is  fuch  an  excefs  of  fimplicity,  that  they  do  not  fufficiently  command  attention.  They  do  not 
fufficiently  roufe  and  exercife  the  mind  ;  and  this  defed  is  the  more  inexcufable,  that  to  roufe  at- 
tention  is  the  very  end  of  fable  :  For  the  leflbns  that  fable  teaches  are  fufficiently  obvious,  and  what 
fhe  pretends  to  is  only  to  incline  men,  by  a  fpccies  of  furprife,  to  attend  to  them.  If  Wilkie  cannot 
boaft  the  eafe  of  Gay,  the  elegance  of  Moore,  or  the  humour  and  poignancy  of  Smart,  yet  he  is, 
ly  no  means,  a  contemptible  fabulift.  Hi»  Fables  have  the  merit  of  an  artlefs  and  eafy  verfification, 
of  juft  obfervation,  and  even,  occafionally,  of  deep  reafoning,  and  abound  in  ftrokes  of  a  patbedc 
fimplicity.  The  fable  of  the  Rate  end  the  htrmit  poffcffes  the  two  laft  mentioned  qualities  in  an 
eminent  degree. 


PREFACE. 


As  there  is  no  clafs  of  writers  more  freely  cen- 
fured  than  poets,  and  that  by  judges  of  all  forts 
competent  and  incompetent:  I_fnall  attempt  to 
anfwer  Jt'ome  objections  that  may  be  made  to  the 
following  performance,  by  perfons  not  fufficiently 
acquainted  with  epic  poetry,  and  the  rules  upon 
which  it  ought  to  be  formed. 

The  beauties  of  the  piece,  if  it  has  any,  (hall 
he  left  to  be  dil'covered  by  the  reader  for  himfelf. 
This  is  his  undoubted  privilege  ;  and'  I  have  no  in 
tention  to  break  in  upon  it:  neither  would  it  be  of 
any  advantage  to  dp  fo;  for  poetical  beauties,  if 
they  are  real,  will  make  themfelves  obferved,  and 
have  their  full  effect  wjthout  a  comment. 

Some  will  object  to  the  choice  of  the  fubject, 
that  it  is  taken  from  the  hiftory  of  an  age  and  na 
tion,  the  particular  manners  of  which  are  not  now 
well  kho^vn,  and  therefore  incapable  of  being  juftly 
reprefented  by  any  modern  author.    This  objection 
.will  appear  to  be  of  little  confequence,  when  we 
conflder  that  the  fact  upon  which  it  proceeds  is  fo 
far  from  being  ftrictly  true,  that  there  are  none 
who  have  any  tolerable  fhare  of  claflical  learning, 
•that  are  not  better  acquainted"  with  the  manners 
and  cuftoms  of  the  heroic  ages,  than  with  thofe  of 
their  own  Country,  at  the  diftance  of  a  few  ,cen- 
;  turies.    Neither  is  this  knowledge  of  ancient  man- 
f-ners  confined  to  the   learned  ;  the  vulgar  them- 
•felves,  from  the  books  of  Mofes,  and  other  ac 
counts  of  the  firft  periods  of  the  Jewifh  ftate,  are 
I  lufficiently  inflected  in  the-  cufloms  of-the  earlieft 
'  times,  .to  be  able  to .  reliih.  any  work  where  thefe 
,  are  juftly  reprefrnted..     With  what  favour,  for  in- 
,ftanc,e,   has-2V$r.   Pope's  tranilation  of  the   Iliad 
•been  received  ,b.y  perfons  of  all  conditions?  and 
,.how  much  is  it  .commonly  preferred  to  the  Faery 
Queen,  a  poem  formed  upon  manners  of  a  inucjf 
Inore. modern  call.     But  fuppofing  the  fact  upon1 
whicli  the  objection  proceed^  to  be' true,  and  that 
jthe  cuftoms  and  manners  peculiar  to  the  times 
yfroni  which-the  fubject  of  the  poem  is  taken,  are 
not  now  well  underftood,   I  do  not  apprehend, 
that,  even  with  this  confefliqn,  the  objection  a- 
<  mounts  to  any  thing .  confiderable ;  for  manners 
are  to  be  diftinguHhed  into  two  kinds,  uniyerfal 
and    particular.      Univerfal  manners.,    are   thofe 
•which  arife  from  the  original  form  and  conftitu- 
tion  of  the  human  nature,  'and  which  conlequent- 
,ly  are  the  fame  in  all  nations  and  periods  of  the 
tyorld.     Particular  manner*,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  Vei.  XI. 


confift  of  fuch  cuftoms  and  modes  of  behaviouiya* 
proceed  from  the  influence 'of  partial  caufes,  and 
that  mift  and  vary  as  thofe  caufes  do  upon  which 
they  depend.  To  make  myfelf  underftood  by  an 
example;  it  is  agreeable  to  common  or  univerfal 
manners,  to  be  angry  and  refenc  an  injury ;  but 
particular  manners,  in  ordinary  cafes,  determine 
the  methods  of  revenge.  For  great  offences,  an 
Italian  poifons  his  enemy ;  a  Spaniard  ftabs  him 
over  the  fhoulder ;  and  a  Frenchman  feeks  fatif- 
faction  in  duel.  From  this  example,  it  will  be 
eafy  to  fee  that  particular  manners  ought  to  ap 
pear  but  very  little,  either  in  epic  poetry,  trage 
dy,  or  any  other  of  the  higher  .kinds  of  poetical" 
compofition;  far  they  are  vulgar,  and  depend  up 
on  cuftom ;  but  great  paffions  and  high  charac 
ters  reject  ordinary  forms;  and  therefore  mull, 
upon  every  occafion,  break  through  all  ,the  com 
mon  modes  both  of  fpeech  and  behaviour.  Though 
ancient  manners,  therefore,  were  noc  fo  precifely 
known  as  they  are,  I  fhould  imagine,  that  a  ftory 
taken  from  the  accounts  which  we.  have  6f  the 
heroic  ages,  might  very  well  ferve  for 'the  fubject 
of  art  epic  poem,,  and  have  .all  the  advantges  ne- 
ctflary  in  refpect  of  that  fpecies  of  compofition. 

It  may  likewife  be  alleged,  that  I  have  done 
wrong  in  choofing  for  my  fubject  a  piece  of  hifto 
ry  which  has  no  "connection  with  prefect  affairs; 
and  that,  if  I  had  done  otherwife  my  work  would 
Irave  been  more  imere'fting  and  ufeful. 

This  objection,  feemingly  a  very  material  one, 
admits,  notwithilandmg,  of  an  eafy  -anlweF,  viz. 
that  fubjects  .for  epic  ^poetry  otight  always  to  be 
taken  from  p.riods  too  early  to  fall  within  the 
reach  of  true  hiftory.  .  And,  if  this  rujf  is  fhow» 
to  be"  efll-ntial,  which  1  fliall  attempt  to  do  in  what 
follows,  it  will  be  found  to  be  impofiible  that  anjr 
fubject  proper  for  that  kind  of  writing  fhould  have 
a  connection  with  prcfent  affairs.  The  proper 
bufinefs  of  epic  poetry,  is  to  extend  our  ideas  of 
human  perfection,  or,  as  the  critics  exprefs  it,' to 
excite  admiration.  In.  order  to  do  (his  in  any  to 
lerable  degree,  character*  mnfl  be  magnified,  and 
accommodated  rather  to ,  onr  notions  of-  heroic 
greatnefs,  than  to  the  real  ftateaf  human  nature. 
There  appears  a  certain  littlencfs  in  all  men  whcB 
truly  known,  which  checks  admiration,  and  con 
fines  it  to  very  narrow  limits;  heroes,  themfehres, 
though  pofleffed  of  the  greateft  qualities,  are,  in 
moft  circumftances  of  their  con<iiuoit,  fomucii  up* 
A 


THE  WORKS   OF  WILKIE. 


on  a  level  with  the  ordinary  run  of  mankind,  that 
fuch  as  have  an  opportunity  of  being  intimately 
acquainted  with  them,  do  not  admire  them  at  the 
fame  rate  that  others  do,  who  view  them  only  at 
a  diltance.  The  common  conditions  of  humanity 
leffen  every  man ;  and  there  are  many  little  cir- 
cumftances  infeparably  connected  with  our  ftate 
of  being,  which  we  cannot  talily  reconcile  with 
our  idea  of  iipaminondas,  Plato,  Scipio,  or  Cxfar. 
From  all  this  it  plainly  appears,  that  admiration 
claims  for  its  object  fomethiiig  fuperior  to  mere 
humanity  ;  and  therefore  fuch  poems  as  have  it 
for  their  end  to  escite  admiration,  ought  to  cele 
brate  thofe  perfons  only  that  never  have  been 
treated  of  by  regular  hiftorians.  For  hiftory  gives 
to  all  things  their  juft  and  natural  dimenfions ; 
and;  if  it  mould  interfere  with  poetical  fiction, 
would  effectually  confute  thole  beautiful  legends 
wh;ch  are  itrvetited  to  raife  our  ideas  of  character 
and  action,  above  the  ftandard  at  which  experi 
ence  has  fixed  them. 

Let  it  be  obferved,  as  a  further  confirmation  of 
the  maxim  which  I  am  cftablifhing,  that  there  is 
in  our  minds  a  principle  which  leads  us  to  admire 
paft  times,  efpecially  thofe  which  are  moil  remote 
from  our  own.     This  prejudice  is  ftrong  in  us ; 
and,  without  being  directed    or   affiiled  by  art, 
forms  in  the  mere  vulgar  of  all  countries,  the  moft 
extravagant  notions  of  the  ftature,  ftrength,  and 
other  heroic  qualities  of  their  remote  anceftors. 
This  prejudice,  fo  favourable  to  poetical  fiction, 
true  hiftory  effectually  deftroys :    and    therefore 
pbetsj  that  they  may  have  the  advantage  of  it, 
ought  to  celebrate  thofe  perfons  and  events  only 
that  are  of  fo  great  antiquity,  as  not  to  be  remem 
bered  with  any  degree  of 'certainty  and  exactnefs. 
But,  inftea:d  of  a  thoufand  arguments'  to  this 
purpote,  let  us  only  corilider  the  machinery  which 
mull  be  employed  in  an  epic  poem  :  how  heaven 
and  hell  muft  both  be  put  in  motion,  and  brought 
into  the  action;  how  events  altogether  out  of  the 
"common  road  of  human  affairs,  and  no  ways  coun 
tenanced  either  by  reafon  or  by  experience,  muft 
b'e  offered  to  mens  imaginations,  fo  as  to  be  ad 
mitted  for  true.     Let  us  confider  all  this,  and  it 
will  appear,  that  there    is  nothing  which  poets 
oupht   more  carefully  to  avoid,  than  interfering 
with  fuch  regular  and  well-vouched  accounts  ot 
things   as  would  effectually  confute  their  fable, 
and  make  the  meaneft  reader  reject  it  with  con 
tempt.  This  is  a  point  of  prudence  which  no  poet 
has  yet  neglected  with  impunity.    Luc  an,  accord 
ing  to  his  uiualraflinefs,  has  taken,  for  the  fub- 
jecb  of  an  epic  poem,  one  of  the  beft  known  events 
which  he  could  have  pitched  upon,  in  the  whole 
feries  ot  human   affairs;  and,  in  order  to  rliftin- 
guilh  himfelf  from  a  mere  hiftorian,  is  often  under 
the  neceffity  of  Parting  from  his  fttbject,  and  em 
ploying  the  whole  force  of  a  very  lively  arid  fruit 
ful  invention  in  unneceflary  defcriptions  and  trif 
ling  digreflious.    This,  befidf  s  other  inconvenieh- 
cies  of  greater  importance,'  gives  fuch  an  appear 
ance  of  labour  and  -draining  to  his  whole  perform 
ance,  as  takes  much  from  the  merit  of  it,  with  all 
who  have  any  notion  of  eafe,  majefty,  and  fimpli- 
city  of  writing.  He,  and  'all  other  poets  who  have 
/alien  into  the  fame  error,  find  always  this  difad- 


vantage  attending  it,  that  the  true  and  fictitious 
parts  of  their  work  refufe  to  unite,  and  ftanding  a$ 
it  were  at  a  diftance^  upon  terms  of  mutual  aver, 
fion,  repruach  each  other  with  their  peculiar  de 
fects.  Fiction  accufes  truth  of  narrownefs  and  want: 
of  dignity  ;  and  this  again  reprefents  the  other  as 
vain  and  extravagant.    Spenfer,  who,  in  his  Faery 
Queen,  not  only  treats  of  matterswithin  the  fphere 
of  regular  hiftory,  but  describes  even  the  tranfac- 
tions  of  his  own  time,  in  order  to  avoid  the  incon- 
veniencies  which  he  knew  to  be  almolt  infepa- 
rable  from  fuch  an  attempt,  covers  his  ftory  witk 
a  veil  ot  allegory,  that  few  of  his  readers  are  able 
ro  penetrate.  This  ftratagem  leaves  him  at  full  li 
berty  in  the  exercife  of  his  invention ;    but  he 
pays,  in  my 'opinion,  too  dear  for  that  privilege, 
by  facrificing  to  it  all  the  weight  and  authority 
which  a  mixture  of  received  tradition  and  real 
geography  would  have  given  to  his  fable.    Milton 
takes  the  fubjects  of  both  his  great  poems  from 
true  hiftory,  yet  does  not  fucceed  the  worfe  upon 
tfiat  account.     But  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that 
his  chief  actors  are  not  men,  but  divine  and  ange 
lic  beings  ;  and  that  it  is  the  human  nature  only 
which  fuffers  by  a  juft  reprefentation,  and  lofes  in 
point  of  dignity,  when  truly  known.     Belides,  the 
^  hiftoric'al  circumftances  upon  which  he  builds  are 
fo  few,  and  of  fo  extraordinary  a  nature,  that  they 
are  eafily  accommodated  to  poetical  fiction  ;  and, 
therefore,  inftead  of  limiting   him,   and    fctting 
bounds  to  his  invention,  they  ferve  only  to  coun 
tenance,  and  give  a  degree  of  credibility  to  what 
ever  he  pleafes  to  feign-     Shakfpeare  may  like- 
wife  be  quoted  as  an  exception  to  the  general  rule, 
who  takes  the  fubjects  of  many  of  his  pieces  frcm 
periods  of  the  Englifh  hiftory  not  very  remote,  and, 
notwithftartding,  fucceeds  remarkably  in  exciting 
the  heroic  paflion.    That  Shakfpeare  makes  us  ad 
mire  his  heroes,  is  undeniable ;  and  no  man  of  com- 
•mon  fenfe  will  ever  pretend  to  affert,  that  real 
characters  of  great  men,  touched  up  and  heighten-, 
ed  by  a  poetical  fancy,  will  not  very  naturally  ex 
cite  admiration.     But  there  are  different  degrees 
of  this  paflion,  as  well  as  of  all  others  ;  and  it  is 
evident  that  the  degree  of  it  which  Shakfpeare  in 
tends  to  raife,  is  not  equal  to  that  which  Homer 
aims  at,  and  the  other  writers  of  the  epic  tube. 
We  admire  no  character  in  Shakfpeare's  works 
more  than  that  of  Henry  V.,  but  the  idea  which 
Homer  gives  us  of  Achilles,  is  ftill  more  noble  and 
auguft.     The  tragedian  mixes  fo  much  of  the  or- 
dmary  man  in  the  character  of  his  hero,  that  we 
become  too  familiar  with  him  to  admire  him  in  a 
high  degree  :  for  in  thofe  very  pieces  in  which  he 
is  reprefehted  as  performing  his  moft  remarkable 
exploits,    he    is  often  found  at  his  leifure  hours 
amiifir.g  himfelf  with  a  knot  of  humourifts,  pick 
pockets,  and  buffoons.    I  do  not  pretend  to  cen- 
fure  Shakfpeare  for  this  conduct ;  becaufe  it  is 
not  the  bufinefs  of  a  tragedian  to  make  us  admire, 
but  to  interelt  our  other  affections:  and,  to  make 
his  heroes  very  much  objects  of  admiration,  would 
poffiblv  be  one  of  the  greateft  errors  that  an  au 
thor  of  that  kind  could  fall  into:   for  the  princi 
ple  of  companion,  to  which  tragedy  is  peculiarly 
adcirefled,  is  incompatable  with  high  admiration; 
and  a  man,  in  older  either  to  be  luted  or  pitied, 


PREFACE. 


nuift  appear  with  evident  fymptoms  of  the  weak- 
neffes  common  to  the  reft  of  the  human  kind.     It 
is  our  own  image  in  diftreis  which  afflicts  us  ;  and 
vre  never  pity  one  under  calamities,  who  is  not 
weak  enough  to  be  moved  by  them.  Homer  upon 
this  account,  never   attempts  to  excite  pity,, but 
from  fuch  private  and  domeftic  diftreffes  as  fhow 
his  heroes  in  the  light  of  ordinary  men.     Sopho 
cles  likewife,  from  a  juft  apprehenfion  that  the  he 
roic  paflion  interferes  with   the  proper   fpirit  of 
tragedy,  leflens  on  purpofe  the  great  characters 
•which  he  introduces,  and  ftripsthem  of  more  than 
half  their  dignity.     Though  therefore  Shakfpeare 
makes  us  admire  his  heroes,  as  much  as  a  tragedian 
ought  to  do,   and  even  more  in  feme  inftances 
than  the  rules  of  art  would  juftify  5  yet  as  the 
degree  of   admiration  which  he  excites  is  lefs  by 
far  than  that  which  epic  poetry  aims  at,  it  may 
well  be  raifed  from  fubjects  that  are  ftrictly  hifto- 
rical,  though  the   higher  degrees  of  that  p:iflion 
cannot.    Were  my  judgment  of  fufficient  authori 
ty  in  matters  of  criticifm,  I  would  have  it  under- 
ftood  as  a  rule;  that  the  fubjects  of  epic  poetry 
fhould  be  taken  from  tradition  only  :  that  .trage 
dy  {hould  keep  within  the  limits  of  true  hiftory ; 
and  that  comedy,  without  meddling  at  all  with 
hiftorical  facts,  fhould  expofe  vice  and  folly  in  re 
cent  inftances,  and  from  living  examples.     That 
part  of 'the  rule  which  regards  epic  poetry,  is  fuf- 
ficiently  juftified  from  what  has  been  already  faid; 
and  concerning  tragedy,  I  have  likewife  obferved, 
that  it  ought  not  to  exalt  its  greatell  characters 
above  the  ftandard  of  real  life.     From  this  it  will 
follow  that  it  may  be  ftrictly  hiftorical  without 
lofmg  any  real  advantage,  and  attain  its  full  per 
fection  without  the  afliftance  cf  fable.     I  believe 
it  will  be  eafily  allowed, that  where  truth  and  fic 
tion  are  equally  i'ubfervient  to  the  purpofes  of  poe 
try,  the   iirft  ought  always  to  he  preferred ;  for 
true  hiftory  carries  a  weight   and  authority  with 
it,  which  feldom  attend  ftories   that  are  merely 
fictitious,  and  has  many  other  advantages  for  in- 
terefling  our  affections  above  the   legends  of  re 
mote  antiquity.     But  as  tragedy  fhould  never  go 
fo  far  back  as  the  fabulous  ages,  neither  {hould  it 
in  my  opinion,  approach  too  near  to  prefent  time* 
for  though  it  docs  not  aim  at  raifmg  and  gratify 
ing  the  paflion  of  admiration,  yet  it  has  a  degree 
of  dignity  to  maintain,  which  it  would  endanger 
by  treating  of  events  too  recent,  and  characters 
too  particularly  remembered.     Comedy,  on  the 
other   hand,   and  indeed  every   fpecies   of  fatire 
whatfoever,    ought   to   attack   living    character 
only,  and  the  vices   and  foliy    of  prefent  times 
That  imperfection  which  appears  in  every  thing 
•when    viewed  near,  a  circnmftance  fo  unfavour 
able  to  the  geniu«  of  epic  poetry  and  tragedy  fall 
in  precifely  with  that  of  comedy,  a  kind  of  writin 
which  has  no  dignity  to  fupport,  points  always  a 
what  is  ridiculous,  and  marks  its  objects  with  cha 
racters  of  littlenefs  and  contempt.     We  naturall) 
admire  paft  times,  and  reverence  the  dead;  anc 
confequently  are  not  fo  much  difpofed  to  laugh  a 
fools  who  have  already  finiflied  their  pans,  anc 
retired,  as  at  fools  who  are  yet  upon  the  flage 
The  ancient  comedy  of  the  Greeks,  winch  pro 
ccecled  upon  this  maxun,  was  certainly,  upon  tha 


ccount,  the  moft  perfect  fpecies  of  fatire  thit 
ver  was  invented.  Homer,  as  he  exc.eds  all  other 
oets  in  merit,  has  likewife  the  advantage  of  them 
n  point  of  good  fortune ;  the  condition  of  the  age 
i  which  he  wrote  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  ce- 
sbrating  in  his  poems,  events,  which  though  they 
vere  in  his  days  of  no  great  antiquity,  and  ronfe- 
ucntly   the    more    interefting,   yet    had    fallen, 
irough  the  want  of  authentic  records,  into  fo 
appy  a  degree  of  obfcurity,  that  he  was  at   full 
berty  to  feign  concerning  them  what  he  pleafed, 
vithout  any  danger  of  confutation.     This  is  an 
dvantage  which  fucceeding  poets  could  not  boaft 
f ;  and  therefore  have  found  themfelves  under  a 
leceflity,  either  of  taking  their  fubjects  frdm'  re 
mote  antiquity,  as  1  have  done,  or  (which  in  my 
opinion  is  worfe)  of  attempting  to  mix  fable  with 
liftory,  which  never  can  be  done  with  fucccfs. 
The  mythology  in  the  following  poem  will  pro- 
hly  give  offence  to  fome  readers,  who  will  think 
t  indecent  for  a  Chriflian  to  write  i:i  fuch  a  man- 
icr  as  to  fuppofe  the  truth  of  a  heathen  religion. 
They  will  be  of  .opinion,  that  it  would  have  !>een 
>etter,  either  to  have  introduced  no  religious  iyf- 
tem  at  all,  or  to  have  chofrn  fuch  a  fubject  as  would 
lave  admitted  of  the  true  fyftem.     I  (hall  endea 
vour  to  anfwer  this  objection,  by  eftabliihing  two 
maxims  directly   oppofite  to  what  is  propofcd  in 
the  preceding  alternative,  and  ftiow  not  only  that 
divine  beings  are  neceffury  characters  in  an  epic 
poem,  but  likewife  that  it  is  highly  improper  to 
introduce  the  true  God  into  a  work  of  that  nature. 
If  thefe  two    points    are   fully   made    out,    the 
force  -of  the  objection  will  be  taken  away.     As  to 
the  firft  of  them,  let  us  again  confider  the  end 
which  epic  poetry  propofes  to  itftrlf*  it  aims  at 
exciting  admiration,  by  fetting  before  us  images 
of  whatever  is  great  and  noble  in  the  human  cha 
racter  :  it  is  neceflary  for  this  purpofe  that  a  poet 
fhould  give  his  heroes,  not  only  all  thofe  intri:ific 
qualities  which  make  men  admired,  but  that  he 
fhould    magnify    them    likewife    by    a    fldlful 
management  of  outward  circumftances.     We  do 
not  form  our  notions  either  of  perfons  or  things 
from  their  rea.1  qualities  only;  circumftunces  of  a 
foreign  nature,    and    merelv    acceffory,   have  as 
great  an  influence   as  thefe  in  dererminiug  our 
approbation  and  diflike.     This  obfervation  (how« 
the  importance  of  mythology  to  epic  poetry ;  for 
nothing   can    render  a  perfon  of  greater  confe- 
quence  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  than  ryi   op  nion 
that  the  gods  regard  him  with  a  peculiar  degree 
of  attention,  and  a*e  much  interefted  in  all  that 
relates  to  him.     If  "fcopie  are  once  considered  at 
the  favourites  of  fo&ven,  or  inftrunirins  c,:ofcn 
for  the  accompWnment  of  its  important  purpoies 
poets  may  tell  of  them  what  great  things  they 
pleafe,    without  feeming   to   exaggerate,    or   fay- 
any  thing  thar  exceeds  the  bounds  of  probabdit 
Homer  was  certainly  of  this  opinion,  whcB 
afcribed  to  his   heroes,   valour  and  'other  great 
.qualities  in  fo  immoderate  a  degrfie  -.  for,  had  the 


confti  jruinity,  and  repreiemec1,  at  the  i.,m    t  rne, 

as  performing  the  high  exploit,  which  he  ato*ei 

Aij 


THE  WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


to  them  inflead  of  being  applauded  as  the  firft  of 
poets,  he  would  have  been  cenfurefi  as  the  moil 
falfe  and  moft  credulous  of  hiilorians.  This  ar 
gument  in  favour  of  poetical  mythology,  with  an 
other  which  might  he  taken  from  the  advantage 
it  is  of  in  point  of  ornament,  and  a  third  from  its 
ufe  in  allegory,  has  determined  almofl  all  the 
•writers  who  have  followed  the  epic  or  heroic  ftyle, 
to  allow  it  a  place  in  their  cornpoiitions  ;  fuch  of 
them  as  have  taken  their,  fubject  from  Greek  or 
Roman  ftory,  have  adopted  the  mythology  of 
Homer  ;  and  the  reft,  in  celebrating  more  modern 
heroes,  have,  inftead  of  that,  made  ufe  of  the 
true  religion,  corrupted  by  an  unnatural  mixture 
of  northern  fuperftition  and  Grecian  fable.  From 
a  practice  therefore  fo  universal,  we  may  juftly 
infer,  that  poets  have  looked  upon  mythology  as 
a  thing  of  great  ufe  in  their  compofitions,  and  al- 
moft  tiTential  to  the  art. 

It  may  be  alleged,  after  all  that  has  been  faid, 
that,  to  bring  gods  into  epic  poetry,  is  inconvenient 
on  many  accounts;  that  it  prevents  a  proper  dif 
play  of  character  in  the  human  actors,  turning 
them  all  into  fo  many  machines,  to  be  moved  and 
guided  by  the  immediate  impulfes  of  deity  :  that 
it  breaks  in  upon  the  order  of  natural  caufes,  and 
renders  all  art,  either  in  plan  or  conduct  of  a 
•work,  fuperfluous  and  unnecefiary.  If  what  this 
objection  fuppofes  were  true,  and  that  the  mix 
ing  of  gods  with  men  in  the  action  of  an  epic  po 
em,  neceflarily  turned  the  whole  into  miracle ; 
if  it  were  an  unavoidable  confequence  of  this  me 
thod,  that  the  human  actors  mould  be  governed 
in  all  they  do  by  divine  impulfe  determining  them, 
•without  regard  to  their  natural  characters,  and 
the  probable  motives  which  ought  to  influence 
them  :  in  fhort,  if  mythology  could  have  no  place 
in  a  poem,  but  at  the  expence  of  manners,  order, 
connection,  and  every  other  thing  that  can  render 
a  work  either  beautiful  or  inftructive,  it  would  be 
an  argument  againft  it  of  fuch  weight,  as  nothing 
alleged  in  its  fctvour  would  be  able  to  counter 
balance.  But  the  objection  is  by  no  means  well 
founded  ;  for,  though  there  may  be  an  indifcreet 
application  of  mythology,  productive  of  all  t}iofe' 
ill  effects  which  have  been  mentioned ;  yet  it  is 
obvious,  both  from  reafon  and  experience,  tha,t 
mythology  may  be  managed  in  fuch  a  manner  as 
to  be  attended  with  none  of  them.  And  this  will 
appear  from  a  very  obvious  example  :  the  greateft 
part  of  mankind,  in  every  age,  have  believed  that 
gods  and  luperior  beings  govern  and  direct  the 
courfe  of  human  affairs.  Many  individuals,  and 
even  whole  nations,  have  thought  that  all  the 
actions  and  events  of  our  lives  are  predetermined 
by  an  overruling  power,  and  that  we  fuffer  the 
controul  of  an  irreftible  neceflity-in  all  we  do  :  yet 
this  opinion  never  changes  the  moral  feelings  of 
fuch  as  entertain  it,  and  their  judgment  of  cha>- 
racters  and  actions ;  they  love  and  hate,  approve, 
and  difapprove.  admire  and  defpife,  in  the  fame 
manner  as  others  do  who  believe  that  men  are  ab- 
folutely  free,  and  that  their  final  determinations 
proceed  only  from  themfelves.  But  when  it  is 
imderftood,  that  people  act  without  confcioufnefs, 
or  that  the  organs  of  their  bodies  are  not  under 
^he  dominion  of  their  own  wills,  but  actuated  by 


fome  other  being  without  their  confent :  in  fiiort, 
when  mere  phylical  neceflity  is  fubilituted  in 
place  of  moral,  all  idea  of  character,  all  fenfe  of 
approbation  and  difapprobation  immediately  ceaf- 
es.  From  this  fact,  the  truth  of  which  nobody 
will  difpute,  it  is  eafy  to  judge  in  what  cafes  the 
interpolition  of  gods  in  the  action  of  a  poem  will 
prevent  a  proper  difplay  of  the  human  characters; 
and  when  not.  Volition,  as  appears  by  the  ex 
ample  now  given,  is  that  upon  which  our  moral 
ideas  are  founded :  fo  long  then  as  volition  is  ex 
erted,  there  is  a  character,  and,  when  that  ceafes, 
the  character  is  loft.  If  therefore  the  deities  in  a 
poem  are  employed  in  animating  and  deterring 
the  heroes,  only  by  fuggefting  fuch  motives  as  arc 
proper  to  influence  their  wills ;  fuch  interpofition 
by  no  means  interferes  with  the  difplay  of  charac 
ter,  but  rather  favours  it ;  for  the  quality  of  every 
mind  may  be  known  from  the  motives  by  which 
it  is  determined;  arid  Minerva's  prevailing  with 
Pindarusto  6e  guilty  of  a  piece  of  treachery,  by 
fuggefting  that  Paris  would  reward  him  i>«  it, 
difcovercd  the  venality  of  his  temper  as  much  as 
if  he  had  done  the  fame  action  from  a  like  motive 
occuring  to  himfelf. 

Poets  often  make  the  gods  infufe  an  uncommon 
degree  of  vigour  into  their  heroes,  for  anfwering 
fome  great  occafion,  and  add  to  the  grace  and 
dignity  of  their  figure.  Sometimes  they  make  a 
fecond  rate  heroe  the  firft  in  a  particular  action^ 
and,  with  their  afliftance,  he  diftinguifh.es  himfelf  • 
above  fuch  as  are  at  other  times  more  remarkable 
for  valour  and  fuccefs :  a.11  this  is  fo  agreeable 
to  what  happens  naturally,  and  from  mere  me 
chanical  caufes,  that  we  forget  the  gods.,  and, 
interpret  what  happens  as  if  they  had  not  inter- 
pofed  at  all.  For  every  body  knows,  that  when 
people  arc  roufed  to  any  remarkable  exertion  of 
force,  they  become  ftronger  thin  they  are  at  other 
times ;  and  that,  when  in  this  manner  the  fpirits 
rife  to  an  uncommon  height,  the  whole  body  ac 
quires  new  graces.  Valour  is  not  a  fixed  arid 
permanent  quality,  nor  is  it  'found  in  any  one  al 
ways  in  the  fame  degree.  Plutarch  obferves  that 
of  all  the  virtues  it  exerts  iti'eif  moft  irregularly, 
and  rifes  by  fits  like  a  divine  infpiration.  The 
fenfe  which  every  man  has  of  thefe  things,  makes 
him  look  upon  the  interpofition  of  gods  in  fuch 
cafes  as  a  mythological  way  of  exprefiing  what  is. 
merely  natural,  and  allow  fuch  as  perform  the 
great  actions  in  a  poem  to  poflefs  the  whole  merit 
of  them.  It  never  leffens  our  opinion  of  Hector's,, 
valour,  for  inftance,  that  Apollo  often  afilfts  him  ; 
nor  do  we  think  Ulyfles  lefs  prudent,  becaufe  he 
is  guided  by  the  influence  of  Minerva.  We  have 
as  clear  impreffions  of  thofe,  and  the  other  Hom 
eric  characters  as  we  have  of  any  characters  what- 
foever,  and  difcern  their  limits  and  diftinguilhing 
marks  as  clearly  as  if  .they  had  acted  altogether 
of  themfelves.  That  fuperior  beings  fhould  be 
employed  in  governing  the  events  of  things,  and 
interpofing  by  thunder,  earthquakes,  inundations, 
peftilences,  and  the  like,  can  never  be  thought 
unnatural  in  poetry,  by  any  one  who  believes 
that  Providence  actually  manages  the  affairs  of 
the  world  by  fuch  means.  It  belongs  to  men  to 
defign  and  act,  but  to  Heaven  alone  to  determine 
6 


P  R  E  F 

feyeHts.  Though  a  poet,  therefore  fhoulJ  repre- 
fent  an  army  weaker  and  worfe  conducted,  pre 
vailing,  in  confequence  of  that  kind  of  interpofition 
•which  has  been  mentioned,  over  another,  evi 
dently  better  and  ftronger,  there  would  be  no 
thing  unnatural  in  1'uch  an  account,  or  contrary 
to  what  is  often  experienced  in  real  affairs. 

After  all  that  has  been  laid,  it  muft  be  owned, 
that  if  gods  are  brought  in  upon  flight  occafions, 
and  for  trifling  purpofes;  if  they  are  put  upon« 
working  miracles  in  order  to  cover  blunders,  either 
in  the  plan  or  execution  of  a  poem,  and  employ 
ed  in  cutting  fuch  knots  as  the  author  himfelf  has 
not  the  fkill  or  patience  to  untie  \  it  muft  be  own 
ed,  1  fay,  that  this  is  a  very  wrong  application  of 
mythology,  and  attended  with  all  the  difadvan- 
tages  which  the  objection  mentions.  It  is  a  ftra-* 
tagem,  which,  if  often  practifed,  would  teach  the 
reader  at  laft  to  difregard  all  appearances,  and, 
\vhen  the  molt  important  periods  of  affairs  were 
approaching,  to  remain  quite  fecnrc  and  nnin- 
terefled,  trufting  that  a  god  would  always  be  at 
hand,  in  time  of  need,  to  manage  every  thing  as 
the  poet  would  have  it,  and  put  all  to  rights  by 
the  fhorteil  and  moft  effectual  methods.  I  have 
confidered  this  objection  at  greater  length, bec&ufe 
at  firft  view  it  appears  very  plaufible ;  and  fhall 
proceed  to  what  remains,  after  I  have  taken  no 
tice  of  another,  which  has  likewife  feme  appear* 
&nce  of  force.  It  will  be  thought  inconvenient, 
as  it  is  the  defign  of  epic  poetry  to  raife  and  dig 
nify  human  characters,  that  gods  fhould  appear 
with  men  in  the  fame  fcenes  of  action.  It  will 
be  alleged,  that  in  this  cafe  the  divine  perfons 
•will  ncceffarilj;  overfhadow  the  human,  leffcn  them 
•  by  a  companion,  and  consequently  produce  an 
effect  directly  oppofite  to  what  is  intended.  This 
objection,  however  plaufible,  does  not  feem  to  be 
fupported  by  experience ;  at  leaft  I  never-  found 
in  any  inftance,  thut  the  fplendour  of  divine  cha 
racters  in  a  poem,  eclipfed  the  human.  "Befides, 
this  is  what  cannot  eafily  happen  ;  for,  let  us  fup- 
pofe  two  parties  of  boys  engaged  in  fome  trial, 
cither  of  force  or  fkill,  and  that  a  few  men  take 
part  in  the  debate,  dividing  themfelves  between 
the  oppofite  fides,  and  afiiiting  them  againft  each 
other,  would  the  exploits  of  the  full-grown  men, 
however  remaikable,  leffen  thofe  of  the  boys  ?  by 
no  means  ;  for  things  that  are  conftflcdly  unequal, 
never  come  into  competition,  and  therefore  can 
not  be  either  leffened  or  magnified  by  appearing 
together.  Are  we  lefs  cjifpofed  to  admire  the  va 
lour  of  Achilles,  becaufe  it  is  underftood  he  was 
not  a  match  for  Jupiter  ?  Or  the  fagacity  of  Ulyf- 
fes,  becaufe  his  penetration  was  not  equal  to  that 
of  Minerva  ?  But  there  is  one  circumftance  which 
renders  it  abfolutely  impoffible  for  the  gods  in  epic 
poetry  to  eclipfe  the  men  in  point  of  heroifm ; 
and  it  is  this,  that  the  gods  are  immortal,  and 
confequently  cannot  exert-  that  in  which  heroifm 
chiefly  confifts,  viz.  the  contempt  of  death.  Ho 
mer,  in  order  to  give  his  deities  as  much  of  that 
quality  as  poflible,has  made  them  vulnerable  and 
lufceptible  of  pain  ;  a  freedom  which- has  fhocked 
fome  of  the  critics,  who  did  not  attend  to  the 
reafon  of  his  doing  fo.  But  Homer  was  too^good 
a  judge  of  propriety,  not  to  be  fenfible  ttfat  no 


ACE.  g 

perfon  could  appear  with  advantage  in  military 
actions  who  ventured  nothing  in  point  of  perlbnal 
fafety;  and  that  ftature,  force,  magnificent  ar- 
mour,^and  even  the  higheft  atchicvuucms,  will 
never  conftitute  the  heioic  character,  wher«  pa 
tience  'and  contempt  of  danger  have  no  opportu 
nity  of  appearing.  It  is  this  cifcumflance  which 
gives  the  mortals  in  epic  poetry  a  manifcft  ad 
vantage  over  the  immortals;  and  Mais  when 
uflicrcd  into  the  field  with  all  the  pomp  and  mag 
nificence  ol"  Homeric  dcfcription,  is  an  object  lefs 
to  be  admired  than  Diomed,  Ajax,  and  many  o- 
thers  who  combat  bravely,  though  confeiuus  of 
mortality.  Horher,  ^Sj\ 'las  managed  his  great 
characters  with  rhe  trufl^udgment  and  ftriclefl 
attention  to  circumdiijicesj^akes  care  to  have  A- 
chilles  early  informed  tru-.t  lie  was  to  perifli  at 
Troy,  elfe  he  might  feem  too  confcious  of  fafety, 
from  his  matchlels  valour  and  the  armour  which 
he  wore,  to  be  great  in  that  which  is  to  be  admir 
ed,  the  contempt  of  death,  when  the  danger  of  it 
is  imminent.  It  muft  be  acknowledged,  that  in 
Milton's  Paradife  Loft,  the  perfons  in  the  machin 
ery  overfhadoved  the  human  characters,  and  that 
the  heroes  of  the  poem  are  all  of  diem, immortals  : 
but  then  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  Paradife 
Loft  is  a  work  altogether  irregular;  that  the  lub- 
ject  of  it  is  not  epic,  but  tragic ;  and  that  Adam 
and  Eve  are  not  defigned  to  be  objects  of  admira 
tion,  but  of  pity  :  it  is  tragic  in  its  plot,  and  epic 
in  its  drefs  and  machinery  :  as  a  tragedy,  it  does 
not  fall  under  the  prefent  queftion  ;  and,  as  au 
epic  poem,  it  evades  it  likewife,  by  a  circumftance 
very  uncommon,  viz.  that  in  the  part  of  it  which 
is  properly  epic,  there  are  no  human  perfons  at 
all. 

1  have  in  this  manner  endeavoured  to  prove 
that  mythology  is  neccfiary  to  an  epic  poem,  and 
that  the  chief  objections  to  the  uie  of  it  are  of 
little  confequence.  I  proceed  to  cftablifh  the 
other  propofition  which  I  mentioned,  and  fhow, 
that  the  true  God  ought  not  to  be  brought  into  a 
work  of  that  nature.  And  if  this  propofition  cau 
be  made  out,  it  will  eafily  appear  from  it,  and  the 
preceding  one  taken  together,  that  poets  are  un 
der  a  neceflity  of  having  recourfe  to  a  falie  theo 
logy,  and  that  they  are  not  to  be  blamed  for  do 
ing  what  the  nature  of  epic  poetry  on  the  one 
hand,  and  refpect  to  the  true  religion  en  the 
other,  render  neceflary  and  unavoidable.  1'ur 
proving  the  point  in  qudtion,  I  need  only  ob- 
lerve,  thafno  perfon  can  appear  with  advantage 
in  poetry,  who  is  not  represented  according  to  the 
form  and  condition  of  a  man.  This  art  addrefles 
itfelf  chierly  to  the  imagination,  a  faculty  which 
apprehends  nothing  in  the  way  of  character  that 
is  not  human,  and  according  to  the  analogy  ot 
that  nature,  of  which  we  ourfclves  are  confciou*. 
But  it  would  be  equally  impiuas  und  abfurd  to 
reprefent  the  Deity  in  this  manner,  and  to  con 
trive  for  him  a  particular  character  and  mctlv 
of  acting,  agreeable  to  the  prejudices  of  weak 
and  ignorant  mortals.  In  the  early  ages  of  i 
church,  he  thought  lit  to  accommodate  himlelt, 
by  fuch  a  piece  of  condefccniion,  to  the  notic 
and  anprehenfions  of  his  creatures  :  but  it  would 
be  indecent  ia  any  man  to  ufe  thi- 
A  uj 


THE   WORKS    OF  WILKIK. 


and  do  that  for  God,   which    he   only   has    a 
right  to  do  for  himfeif.     The  author  of  Paradife 
Loft  has  offendt  d  notorioufly  in  this  refpect ;  and, 
though  no  encomiums  are  too  great  for  him  as  a 
poet,  he  is  juftljr  chargeable  with    impiety,  for 
prefuming  to  reprefent  the  Divine  Nature,  and 
the  myfteries  of  religion,  according  to  the  nar- 
rownefs  of  human   prejudice:    his  dialogues  be 
tween  the  Father  and  the  Son  •,  his  employing  a 
Being  of  infinite  wifdom  in  difcuffing  the  fubtle- 
ties  of  fchool  divinity  ;  the  fenfual  views  which  ht 
gives  of  the  happinefs  of  heaven,  admitting  into 
it,  as  a  part,  not  only  real  eating  and  drinking, 
but  another  kind  of  animal  pleafure,  too,  by  no 
means  more  refined  :  thefe,  and  fuch  like  circurh- 
ftances,  though  perfectly  poetical  and  agreeable 
to  the  genius  of  an  art  which  adapts  every  thing 
to  the  human  model,  are,  at  the  fame  time,  fo 
inconfiftent   with    truth,  and    the    exalted   ideas 
which  we  ought  to  entertain   of  divine   things, 
that  they  muft  be  highly  offenfive  to  all  fuch  as 
have  jult  impreflions  of  religion    and  would  not 
choofe  to  fee  a  fyftem  of  doctrine  revealed  from 
heaven,  reduced  to   a   flate  of  conformity-  with 
heathen  fuperftition.     True  theology  ought  not 
to  be  ufed  in  an  epic  poem,  for  another  reafon,  of 
no  lefs  weight  than  that  which  has  been  mention 
ed,  viz.  That  the  human  characters  which  it  re- 
prefents  fliould  never -be  formed  upon  a  perfect 
moral  plan,  but  have  their  piety  (for  inftance; 
tinctured  with  fuperftition,  and  their  general  be 
haviour  influenced  by  affection,  paflion,  and  preju 
dice.     This  will  be  thought  a  violent  paradox,  by 
fuch  as  do  not  know  that  imperfect  characters  in- 
tereft  us  more  than  perfect  ones,  and  that  we  are 
doubly  inftmctcd,  when  we  fee,  in  one  and  the 
fame  example,  both  what  we  ought  to  follow,  and 
•what  we  ought  to  avoid.     Accordingly,  Horace, 
in  his  epiftle  to  Lollius,   where  he  beftows  the 
higheft  encomiums   upon   the   Iliad,  as  a  work 
which  delineated  vice  and  virtue  better  than  the 
writings  of  the  moft  celebrated  philosophers,  fayf 
of  it,  notwithftanding,  1  hat  it  is  taken  up  in  de- 
fcribing  the  animofities  of  fpolifh  kings  and  infa 
tuated  nations.     To  go  to  the  bottom  of  this  mat 
ter,  it  will  be  proper  to  obfrrve,  that  men  are  ca 
pable  of  two  forts  of  character,  which  may  be 
diftinguiftied  by  the  namss  of  natural  and  arti 
ficial.      The  natural   character  implies  all  thbfe 
feelings,  paflions/defires,  and  opinions  which  men 
ria~ve  from  nature  and  common  experience,  inde 
pendent  of  fpeculation  and  moral  refinement, 
pf  rfon  of  this  character  looks  upon  outward  pro 
fperity  as  a  real  good,  and  confiders  the  calamitie 
of  life  as  real  evils;   loves  his  friends,  hates  hi 
enemies,  admires  his  fuperiors,  is  afluming  witl 
refpect  to  his  inferiors,  and  ftands  upon  terms  o 
rivalfuip.with  his  equals ;  in  fhort,  is  governed  b; 
all  thole  paflions  and   opinions   that  pofiefs   th 
heart?,   and   determine  the  actions    of   ordinar 
men,    The  force  and  magnitude  of  this  characte 
is  in  proportion  to  the  ftrength  of  thefe  natura 
difpofitions :  and  its  virtue  confifts  in  having  th 
generous  and  beneficent  ones  predominant.     A 
to  that  fort  of  character,  again,  which  I  diftin 
guifhed  by  the  name  of  artificial :  it  confifts  i 
a  habit  of  mind  formed  by  difcipline,  accordin 


o  the  cool  and  difpafTionate  dictates  of  reafon1. 
This  character  is  highly  moral,  but,  in  my  opi 
nion,  far  lefs  poetical  than  the  other,  by  being 
efs  lit  for  interefting  our  affections,  which   are 
ormcd  by  the  wife  author  of  our  nature  for  em- 
racing  fuch  beings  which  are  of  the  fame  tem- 
er  and  complexion  with  oarfelves,  and  are  mark 
ed  with  the  common  infirmities  of  human  nature, 
'erfons  of  the  high  philofophic  character,  are  too 
irm  and  unmoved,  amidft    the   calamities   they 
meet  with,  to  excite  much  fympathy,  and  are  too 
much  fuperior  tft  the  fallies  of  pallion  and  partial 
affection,  the  popular   marks   of  generofity  and 
jreamefs  of  mind,  ever  to  be  much  admired  by 
:he  bulk  of  mankind.     If  the  moft  accomplifhed 
M>et  in  the  world  fhould  take  a  rigid  philofopher 
:or  the  chief  character  either  of  an  epic  poem  or 
a  tragedy,  it  is  eafy  to  conjecture  what  would  be 
th.j  fuccefs  of  fuch  an  attempt;  the  work  would 
alfume    he  character  of  its  hero,  and  be  cold,  dif- 
paffionate,  and  unintertfting.    There  is,  however, 
a  fpecies  of  panegyric  proper  for  fuch  fort  of  per 
fection,  and  it  may  be  rcprefented  to  advantage, 
either  in  hiilory  or  profe  dialogue,  but  it  will  ne 
ver  ftrike  the  bulk  of  mankind.     Plato,  in  his 
apology  of  Socrates,  deceives  us :  as  Mr  Addifon 
likewife  does  in  his  tragedy  of  Cato  ;  for  both  of 
them  attempt  to  perfuade  us,  that  we  are  affected 
with  the   contemplation   of  unfhaken    fortitude, 
while  we  arc  only  fympathifmg  with  fuffering  in 
nocence.     The  tendernefs  of  humanity  appearing 
through  the  hardnefs  of  the  philofophic  character, 
is  that  which  affects  us  in  both  inftances,  and  not 
that  unconquered  greatnefs  of  mind,  which  occa- 
fions  rather  wonder  and  aftonifhment  than  genuine 
affection. 

From  what  has  been  faid,  it  is  eafy  to  infer, 
that  the  great  characters,  both  in  epic  poetry  and 
tiagedy*  ought  not  to  be  formed  upon  a  perfect 
moral  plan  ;  and  therefore  heroes  themftlves  muft 
often  be  reprefented  as  acting  from  fuch  motives, 
and  governed  by  fuch  affections  as  impartial  reafon 
cannot  approve  of:  but  it  would  be  highly  inde 
cent  to  make  a  being,  whom  religion  teaches  us  to 
confider  as  perfect,  enter  into  the  views  of  fuch 
perfons,  and  exert  himfeif  in  order  to  promote 
their  extravagant  enterprifes.  This  would  be  to 
Bring  down  die  infinite  wifdom  of  God  to  the  le 
vel  of  human  folly,  and  to  make  him  altogether 
fuch  an  one  as  ourfclves. 

A  falfe  theology,  therefore,  ought  rather  to  be 
employed  in  poetical compofitions  than  the  true; 
for,  as  the  fuperior  beings  which  are  introduced, 
muft  of  neceflity  be  reprefented  as  affuming  the 
paflion*  and  opinions  of  thofe  whom  they  favour, 
it  is  furely  much  fairer  to  employ  a  fet  of  imagi 
nary  beings  for  this  purpofe,  than  God  himfeif, 
and  the  bleffed  angels,  who  ought  always  to  be 
objects  of  our  reverence. 

The  fame  reafoning  which  leads  to  this  con- 
clufion,will  likewife  make  usfenfible,  that  among 
falfe  religions,  thefe  ought  to  be  preferred  which 
are  leaft  connected  with  the  true  ;  for  the  fuper- 
ftitions  which  priefts  and  poets  have  built  upon 
the  Chri{lia.n  faith,  diihonoar  it,  and  therefore 
mould,  if  poflible,  be  buried  in  oblivion.  The  an 
cient  Greek  theology  ieenis  upon  all  accounts  thtf 


PREFACE. 


fitteft.  Itjias  no  connection  with  the  true  fyftem. 


and  therefore  may  be  treated  with  the  greateft 
freedom,  without  indecency  or  ground  of  of. 
fence  :  It  conlifts  of  a  number  of  beaut. fill  fabies, 
fuited  to  the  talte.  of  the  moft  lively  and  ingeni- 
«us  people  that  ever  exifted,  and  i'o  much  calcu 
lated  to  ravifli  and  tranfport  a  warm  imagination, 
that  many  poets  in  inoaein  times,  who  proceeded 
upon  a  different  theology,  have,  notwithttanding, 
been  fo  bewitched  with  its  charms,  as  to  admit 
it  into  their  works,  though  it  clafhed  violently 
•with  the  fyiiem  which  they  had  adopted.  Mil 
ton  is  remarkable  in  this  refpect ;  and  the  more 
fo,  as  his  poem  is  altogether  of  a  religious  nature, 
and  the  fubject  of  it  taken  from  holy  writ. 

Some  may  poiiibly  imagine,  that  the  following 
work  would  have  had  greater  merit,  if  it  had  of 
fered   to  the   world    a   fet  of  characlers  entirely 
new,    and    a  (lory    nowife   connecled    with    any 
thing  that  is  already  known.     I  am  not  of  this 
oiiinion  ;  but  perfuatled,  on  the  contiary,  that,  to 
invent  a  ftory  quite    new,    with  a  catalogue  c 
names  never  before  heard  of,  would  be  an  attempt 
of  fuch  ajiature,  as  could  not  be  made  with  tole 
rable  fuccefs  ;  for  every  man  muft  be  fenfible,  that 
the  wonders  which  epic  poetry  relates,  will  (hock 
even  the  ignorant  vulgar,  and  appear  altogether 
ridiculous,  if  they  are  not  founded  upon  fomething 
which  has  already  gained  a  degree  of  credit.   Ou 
firft  ideas  are  taken  from  expcrence;  and  though  we 
may -be  brought  to  receive:  notions,  not  only  very 
different  from  thole  which  experience  ftiggefts,  bu 
even  directly  contrary  to  them,  yet  this  is  not  t 
be  done.fuddenly  and  at  one  attempt :  fuch,  there 
fore,    as  would  have  their  fictions  favourably  re 
ceived,  muft  lay  it  down  as  a  rule,  to  acconrmo 
date  what  they  feign  to  eftablifhed  prejudices 
and  build  upon  (lories  -which  are  already  in  fom 
roeafure    believed.     With    this   precaution,    the 
may  go  great  lengths  without  appearing  abfurt 
but   will   foon  (hock  the  meaneft  underftanding 
if  they  iiegiect  it.     Had  there  been  no  fabuloi 
accounts  concerning  the  Trojan  expedition  cu 
rent  in  Greece  and    Afia,  at  the  time  when  Ho 
mer  wrote,  the  (lories  which  be  tells,  though  th 
mod  beautiful  that  ever  were  invented,  vvou 
have  appeared  to  his  cotemporaries  altogether  i 
diculous  and  never  been   admired,  till  antiquit 
had   procured    them    credit,   or  a  tradition  bee 
formed    afterwards    to    vouch    for    them  to  tl 
world;  for,  in  matters  of  an  extraoriijnary  kinJ, 
not  only  reafon,  but  even  imagination,  requires 
more  than  a  (ingle  teftimony  to  ground  its  affent 
upon  ;  and  therefore,  though  I  fhould  have  invent 
ed  a  fet  of  characters  entirely  new,  and  framed  a 
ftory  for  the  fubjecl  of  my  poem  nowife  connecl 
ed    with   any  thing  that  has  yet  been  heard  of, 
and  been  fo  happy  in  this  attempt  as  to  produce 


earance  of  reality  to  things  that  are  merely  fic- 


•what  might  equal,  in  point  of  perfection,  any  of 
the  moil  beautiful  fables  of  antiquity  ;  it  would 
have  wanted,  notwithstanding,  what  is  abfolute 
ly  neceffary  in  order  to  fuccels,  viz.  that  credit 
which  new  invented  fictions  derive  from  their 
connection  with  fuch  as  are  already  become  fami 
liar  to  mens  imaginations. 

Tradition  is  the  beft  ground  upon  which  fable 
can  be  built,  not  only  bscaufc  i:  gives  the  »p- 


tious,  b^ut   likewife   becaufe    it   fupplies  a  poet 
ith  the  mod  proper  materials  for  his  invention 
o  work  upon.     There    are  fome  fa-biilous  ftories 
lat  pie  ale  more  univerfaily  than  others  ;  and  of 
his   kind   are   the   wonders  wht.h  tradition  re- 
orts;  for  they  are   accommodated  to  the  affec- 
ions  and  paflions  of  the  bulk  of  mankind,  in  the 
ame  manner  as  national  proverbs  are  to  thci;  un- 
erftandings.     The  itrict  accommodation  in  both 
nltances  proceeds  from  the  fame  caufe,  viz',  that 
nothing  of  either  fort  is  the  work  of  one  man,  or 
of  one    age,  but  of   many.      Traditions  are  not 
)erfected  by   their   firil    inventors,  not   proverbs 
eftabliibed   U|;on   a    fmgle  authority.      Proverbs 
derive  their  credit  from   the   general  content  of 
nankind  j  and  tradition  is  gradually  corrected  and 
unproved   in  the   hands  of  fuch  as  tranfmit  it  to 
each   other  through  a  fucceffion  of  ages.     In  it* 
it  ft  periods,  it  is  a  narrow  thing,  but  extends  it- 
"eJ-f  after  wards,  and,  with  the  advantage  or  time, 
and   experiments   often  repeated,  adapts  itfelf  f<J 
precifcly  to  the  affections,  palnons,  and  prejudices, 
latural  to  the  human  fpecies,  that  it  becomes  at 
laft  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  fentiments  of  every 
:eart.     No  one  man,  therefore,  can  pretend  to 
invent  fables  that  will  pleafe  fo  univerfaily,  as 
thofe  which  are  formed  by  the  progref*  of  popular 
tradition.  The  faculties  of  any  individual  muft  be 
too  narrow  for  that  purpofe,  and  have  tpo  much 
of  a  peculiar  caft  to  be  capable  of  producing  what 
will  be  fo  ftrictly  adapted   to  the  common  feel 
ings  and  fentiments  of  all.     It  is  this  fort  of  per 
fection  which  pleafes  us  in  archaeology,  or  the  tra 
ditional  accounts  which  we  have  of  the  origins  of 
nations ;  for  we  are  often  more  agreeably  enter 
tained  with  ftories  of  that  kind,  though  we  know 
them  to  be  abfolutely  falfe,  than   with   the  jult- 
eft  reprefentations  of  real  events.     But  as  tra 
dition,  while   it  continues   in    the  hands  ot  the 
people,  mult  be  rude  and  d:fagie--i;ble  in  refpeil 
of  its  foim,  and   have  many  things  low  and  ab- 
fuvd    in    it,  neceffary  to  be  palliated  or  fuppref- 
fed.  it  does  not  arrive  at  that  perfect  on  of  which 
:t  is  capable,  till  it  comes  tinder  the  management 
of  the  poets,  and  from  them  receives  its  laft  im 
provement.     By  means  of  this  i  rogrefs,  tales,  thiit 
in   the  months  of  their  firft  inventors,  were  the 
moft  abfurd  that  can  be  imagined,  the  eflecls  of 
mete  fupeiftition,  ignorance,  and  national  preju 
dice,  rife  up  at  laft  to  afton-ih  the   world,  a.  d 
draw  th"  Admiration  of  all  ag, ',  in  the  form  ot  an 
Iliad  or  OdyfT.y.      It  is  not  the  bufinffs  of  a  poet, 
then,   10  make  fable,  but  to  form,   co.recl,  anl 
improve  tradition:  and  it  is  to  hr  fc>llowm»  this 
method,  that  Homer  undoubtedly  owes  hi>  'u.- 
cefs:  for  it  is  obvious  to  nr.y  one  who  con*  d<-rs 
his  works  with  attention,  tlat   he  only  collected 
the  various  traditions  that  were   ctinmt    m   his 
days,  and   reduced  them  to  a  fvitein.     Th.U  infi. 
nit'e  variety  of  independent  ft<  nes  vvh.ch  occur  in 
his  wjrks,  is  a  proof  of  th's     thefe  are  told  with 
fo  minute,  and  often  fo  unneceflary  a  detail  of 
ciicumftances,  that  it  is  eafy  to  f:e  that  h    !ol- 
lowed  accounts  already  current,    and  c  d  nut  in 
vent  what  he  has  recorded.     I  could  as  entity  be. 
lieve  that  Prometheus  wade  a  man  of  cUy,  an» 


THE  WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


put  life  into  him,  or  affent  to  any  other  of  the 
moft  abfurd  fidlions  of  antiquity  ;  I  could  even  as 
foon  be  perfuaded  that  all  that  Homer  has  written 
is  ftrict  matter  of  fact,  as  believe  that  any  one 
mortal  man  was  capable  of  inventing  that  infinite 
variety  of  hiftorical  circumftances  which  occur  in 
the  works  of  that  celebrated  poet ;  for  invention 
is  by  no  means  an  eafy  thing;  and  to  contrive  a 
tale  that  will  pleafe  univerfally  is  certainly  one  of 
the  moft  difficult  undertakings  that  can  be  ima 
gined.  Poets,  therefore,  have  found  themfelvet- 
under  a  neceflity  of  trufting  to  foirething  more 
powerful  than  their  own  invention  in  this  impor 
tant  article,  viz.  the  joint  endeavours  of  many, 
regulated  and  directed  by  the  cenfure  of  ages. 

What  has  been  laid,  is  not  only  fufficiert  to 
juftify,  me  in  forming  my  poem  upon  hiftorical 
circumftances  already  known,  and  introducing 
characters  which  the  reader  is  before  acquainted 
with;  but  fhows  the  neceffity  like-vvife  of  taking 
many  of  the  hiftorical  circumftances 'from  the  an 
cient  poets.  For  tradition,  the  proper  foundation 
of  epic  poetry,  is  now  to  be  found  only  in  their 
•writings ;  and  therefore  muft  be  ufed  like  a  com 
mon  flock,  and  not  confidered  as  the  property  of 
individuals. 

For  the  immoderate,  length  of  the  two  epifodes, 
viz.  thofe  in  the  fourth  and  feventh  books,  all  that 
1  can  fay,  is,  that  they  are  both  brought  in  for 
very  important  purpofes,  and  therefore  may  be 
permitted  to  take  up  more  room  than  is  ordinarily 
"allowed  to  things  of  that  fort.  Befides,  the  firft 
of  them  is  intended  as  an  experiment  in  that  kind 
of  fiction  which  diftinguifhes  Homer's  Odyffey, 
and  the  other  as  an  attempt  to  heroic  tragedy, 
after  the  manner  of  Sophocles. 

The  language  is  fimple  and  artlefs.  This  I  take 
to  be  an  advantage,  rather  than  a  defect ;  for  it 
gives  an  air  of  antiquity  to  the  work,  and  makes 
the  ftyle  more  fuitable  to  the  fubject. 

My  learned  readers  will  be1  furprifed  to  find  A- 
gamemnon  and  Menelaus  at  the  fiege  of  Thebes, 
when,  according  to  Homer,  they  were  not  there  : 
and,  at  the  fame  time,  no  notice  taken  of  Sthene- 
lus,  the  friend  and  companion  of  Diomed,  whom 
the  fame  author  mentions  as  prefent  iu  that  expe 
dition. 


With  refpect  to  the  firft  circumftance,  I  did 
not  choofe,  f«r  the  fjtfc»-Qf  a  fact  of  fo  little  confe- 
quence,  and  that  too  defending  only  upon  poeti 
cal  authority,  to  depriv/myfeif  of  two  illuftrious 
names  very  proper  for  aMatoing  my  catalogue  of 
heroes.  And  as  to  the  Second  ;  it  will  be  eafily 
allowed,  that  I  could  not  hue  made  Sthenelus  ap 
pear,  without  afiigning  hinwhat  place  in  IJiomed's 
friendfhip.  and  confequenjly  in  the  action  of  the 
poem,  which  Ulyfies  now  poffefifes;  and  which  is 
the  only  part  in  the  whole  fuited  to  his  peculiar 
character.  I  muft  have  put  a  fecond-rate  hero  in 
the  place  of  a  firft-rate  one  ;  and  a  name  little 
known,  in  the  place  of  one  which  every  body  is 
acquainted  with.  Befides,  I  muft  have  transfer 
red,  to  Sthenelus,  the  valour,  firmnefs,  and  ad- 
cirefs  of  Ulyfles;  becaufe  the  part  he  was  to  act: 
would  have  required  thefe,  and  muft,  at, the  fame 
time,  have  funk  Ulyfles  into  the  character  of  Sthe 
nelus,  for  want  of  a  proper  opportunity  of  difplay- 
ing  him  in  his  own.  Thefe  are  inconvenier.cies 
too  great  to  be  incurred  for  the  lake  of  a  fcrupu- 
lous  agreement  with  Homer  in  point  of  fact ;  and 
are  therefore;  in  my  opinion,  better  avoided. 

I  have  explained  myfelf  upon  the  foregoing  par 
ticulars,  for  the  fake  of  the  learned  part  of  my  rea 
ders  only  :  and  lhall  now  drop  a  hint  for  fuch  of 
them  as  do  not  fall  under  that  denomination. 

The  following  poem  is  called  the  Epigoniad, 
becaufe  the  heroes,  whole  actions  it  celebrates^ 
have  got  the  name  of  the  Epigoni  (or  Defcend- 
ants),  being  the  fons  of  thofe  who  attempted  the 
conqueft  of  Thebes  in  a  former  expedition. 

Thus  far  I  have  endeavoured  to  apologife  for 
the  following  performance.  It  may  be  cenfured, 
no  doubt,  upon  many  accounts  befides  thofe  that 
have  been  mentioned  :  but  I  am  perfuaded,  that 
what  has  been  faid  will  determine  every  candid 
reader,  not  to  be  peremptory  in  condemning  what 
at  firft  view  he  may  diflike  ;  for  the  fpecimen  of 
criticifm  which  has  been  given,  will  convince  him 
that  the  real  faults  of  epic  poetry  are  not  eafily 
afcertained,  and  diftinguiflied  from  thefe  inconve 
niences  that  muft  be  allowed  to  take  place,  in  or 
der  to'  prevent  greater  faults,  and  produce,  upon 
the  whole',  a  higher  degree  of  perfection. 


THE  EPIGQN1AD. 


BOOK    I. 


IE  pow'rs  of  fong !  with  whofe  immortal  fire 
Your  bard  enraptur'd  fung  Pelidcs'  ire, 
To  Greece  ib  fatal,  when  in  evil  hour, 
He  brav'd,  in  ftern  debatd,  the  fov'reign  pow'r, 
By  like  example,  teach  me  now  to  fhow 
From  love,  no  lefs,  what  dire  difafters  flow. 
For  when  the  youth  of  Greece,  by  Thefus  led, 
Rcturn'd  to  conquer  where  their  fathers  bled, 
And  punifli  guilty  Thebes,  by  Heav'n  ordain'd 
For  perfidy  to  fall,  and  oaths  profan'd ; 
Venus  ftill  partial  to  the  Theban  arms, 
Tydeus'  fen  feduc'd  by  female  charms; 
"Who,  from  his  plighted  faith  by  paflion  fway'd, 
The  chiefs,  the  army,  and  himfeif  betray'd. 

'1  his  theme  did  once  your  fav'rite  bard  employ, 
Whofe  verle  immortaliz'd  the  fall  of  Troy : 
But  time  s  oblivious  gulf,  whofe  circle  draws    . 

i  All  mortal  things  by  fate's  eternal  laws, 
In  whofe  wide  vortex  worlds  themfelves  are  toft, 
And  rounding  fvvift  fuccefiively  are  loft, 
This  fong  hath  fnatch'd.    I  now  refume  the  ftrain, 
Not  from  proud  hope  and  emulation  vain, 
By  this  attempt  to  merit  equal  praife 
With  worth  heroic,  born  in  happier  days. 
Sooner  the  weed,  that  with  the  fpring  appears, 
And  in  the  fummer's  heat  its  bloffom  bears, 
But,  fhriv'ling  at  the  touch  of  winter  hoar, 
Sinks  to  its  native  earth,  and  is  no  more  ; 
Might  match  the  lofty  oak,  which  long  hath  ftood, 
From  age  to  age,  the  monarch  of  the  wood. 
But  love  excites  me,  and  defire  to  trace 
His  glorious  fteps,  though  with  unequal  pace. 
Before  me  ftill  1  fee  his  awful  fhade, 
With  garlands  crown'd,  of  leaves  which  never  fade; 
He  points  the  path  to  fame,  and  bids  me  fcale 
Parnaffus'  flipp'ry  height,  where  thoufands  fail : 
I  follow  trembling ;  for  the  cliffs  are  high, 
And  hov'ring  round  them  watchful  harpies  fly, 
To  fnatch  the  poets  wreath  with  envious  claws, 
And  hifs  contempt  for  merited  applaule. 
But  if  great  Campbel,  whofe  aufpicious  fmile 
Bids  genius  yet  revive  to  blefs  our  ifle, 
Who,  from  the  toils  of  ftate  and  public  cares, 
Oft  with  the  mufes  to  the  fhade  repairs, 
My  numbers  fhall  approve,  I  rife  to  fame  ; 
For  what  he  praifes,  envy  dares  not  blame. 

Where  high  Olympas'  hundred  heads  arife, 
Divide  the  clouds,  and  mingle  with  the  ikies, 

The  gods  affembled  met;  and  view'd,  from  far, 
Thebes  and  the  various  combats  of  the  war. 
From  all  apart  the  Paphian  goddefs  fat, 
And  pity'd  in  her  heart  her  fav'rite  ftate, 
Decreed  to  perifti,  by  the  Argive  bands, 
Fallas's  art,  Tydides'  mighty  hands : 
Penfive  fhe  fat,  and  ev'ry  art  explor'd 
To  charm  the  victor,  and  retrain  his  fword; 


But  vcil'd  her  purpofe  from  the  piercing  ray 
Of  Pallas,  ever  jealous  of  her  fway : 
Unfeen  the  goddefs,  from  th'  Olympian  height 
To  fhady  Cyprus  bent  her  rapid  flight, 
Down  the  fteep  air,  as,  from  the  fetting  fkies, 
At  ev'n's  approach,  a  ftreaming  meteor  flies. 
Where  lofty  fliores  the  tempeft's  rage  reftrain, 
And  fieeps,  in  peace  diflblv'd,  the  hoary  main ; 
In  love's  fam'd  ifle  a  deep  recefs  is  found, 
Which  woods  embrace,  and  precipices  bound, 
To  Venus  facred ;  there  her  temple  ftands, 
Where  azure  billows  wafti  the  golden  fands, 
A  hollow  cave ;  and  lifts  its  rocky  head, 
With  native  myrtle  crown'd,  a  lofty  fhade . 
Whither  refort  the  Naiads  of  the  flood, 
Aflembl'd  with  the  nymphs  from  ev'ry  wood 
Her  heifers  there  they  tend,  and  fleecy  (tore, 
Along  the  windings  of  the  defert  fhore. 
Thither  the  goddefs,  from  th'  Olympian  height 
Defcending  fwift,  precipitates  her  flight ; 
Confpicuous,  on  the  yellow  fand,  fhe  ftood, 
Above  the  margin  of  the  azure  flood. 
From  ev'ry  grove  and  ftream  the  nymphs  attend, 
And  to  their  queen  in  cheerful  homage  bend. 
Some  baftening  to  the  facVed  grot  repair, 
And  deck  its  rocky  walls  with  garlands  fair; 
Others  produce  the  gift  which  Autumn  brings, 
And  fparkling  nedar  quench'd  with   mountain 

fprings. 

And  now  the  queen,  impatient  to  explain 
Her  fecret  griefs,  addrefs'd  her  lift'ning  train : 

Ye  rural  goddeffes,  immortal  fair ! 
Who  all  my  triumphs,  all  my  forrows  (hare ; 
I  come,  afflicted,  from  th'  ethereal  tow'rs, 
Where    Thebes    is   doom'd    to    fall    by    partial 

pow'rs. 

Nor  can  entreaty  fave  my  fav'rite  ftate, 
Avert  or  change  the  rigour  of  her  fate ; 
Though,  breathing  incenfe,  there  my  altar  ftands, 
With  daily  gifts  fupply'd  from  virgins  hands. 
Juno  now  rules  the  fenate  of  the  ikies, 
And  with  her  dictates  ev'ry  pow'r  complies ; 
Her  jealous  hate  the  guiltlefs  town  condemns 
To  wafteful  havock,  and  the  rage  of  flames ; 
Since,  thither  tempted  by  a  ftranger's  charms, 
The  mighty  thunderer  forfook  her  arms. 
Jove's  warlike  daughter  too  promotes  her  aim, 
Who,  for  Tydides,  feeks  immortal  fame ; 
For  him  employs  a  mother's  watchful  cares, 
And  the  lirft  honours  of  the  war  prepares : 
To  fruftrate  both,  a  monument  would  raifc 
Of  lafting  triumph,  and  immortal  praife, 
To  draw  the  fon  of  Tyder.s  from  the  field, 
To  whofe  victorious  hands  the  town  muft  yield; 
For,  by  the  all-decreeing  will  of  fate, 
He  only  can  o'erthrovv  the  Theban  ftate. 


THE   WORKS   OF  WILKIE. 


A  way  which  promifes  fuccefs  I'll  name  : 
The  valiant  youth  adores  a  lovely  dame, 
Akander's  daughter,  whom  the  graces  join'd 
With  gifts  adorn,  above  the  human  kind : 
She  with  her  fire  forfook  th'  Hefperian  ftrand, 
By  hoftile  arras  expell'd  their  native  land : 
For  Echetus  who  rules,  with  tyrant  force, 
Where  Aufidus  directs  his  downward  courfe, 
And  high  Garganus  th'  Apulian  plain, 
Is  mark'd  by  failors,  from  the  diflant  main  ; 
Oft  from  her  fire  had  claim'd  the  lovely  maid, 
Who,  ftill  averfe,  to  grant  his  fuit  delay'd  : 
For,  harb'rous  in  extreme,  the  tyrant  feeds 
With  mangl'd  limbs  of  men  his  hungry  fleeds : 
Impatient  of  his  love,  by  hoftile  arms 
And  force  declar'd,    he  claim'd  her   matchlefs 

charms. 

Pelignium  raz'd  the  hero's  royal  feat, 
Who  fought  in  foreign  climes  a  fafe  retreat; 
His  flight  ./Etolia's  friendly  fhore  receives, 
Hergen'rous  lord  protects  him  and  relieves; 
Three  cities  to  poffefs  the  chief  obtains, 
With  hills  for  pafture  fit.  acd  fruitful  plains. 
Caffandra  for  his  bride  Tydides  claim'd ; 
For  hymeneal  rites  the  hour  was  nam'd, 
When  call'd  to  arms  againft  the  Theban  tow'rs 
The  chief  reluctant  led  his  martial  pow'rs. 
Hence  jealoufy  and  fear  his  breaft  divide, 
Fear  for  the  fafety  of  an  abfent  bride ; 
Left,  by  his  pafiion  rous'd,  the  tyrant  rife, 
And  unoppos'd  ufurp  the  lovely  prize. 
He  knows  not,  that,  in  martial  arms  conceal'd, 
With  him  fhe  braves  the  terrors  of  the  field ; 
True  to  his  fide,  noon's  fultry  toil  endures, 
And  the  cold  damps  that  chil.  the  midnight  hours. 
If  dreams,  or  figns,  could  jealoufy  impart, 
And  whet  the  cares  that  l:ing  the  here's  heart, 
Impatient  of  his  pain  he'd  foon  prepare, 
With  all  his  native  bands,  to  quit  the  war. 

The  goddefs  thus  :  a  Paphian  nymph  reply'd, 
And  drew  the  lift'ning  crowd  on  ev'ry  fide, 
Zelotype,  whom  fell  Alecto  bore, 
With  Cupid  mixing  on  th'  infernal  fhore. 
Goddefs!   thefe   fhafts   fhall   compafs   what   you 

aim, 

My  mother  dipt  their  points  in  Stygian  flame ; 
Where'er  my  father's  darts  their  way  have  found, 
Mine  follow  deep  and  poifon  all  the  wound. 
By  thefe  we  foon  with  triumph  fhall  behold 
Pallas  deceiv'd,  and  Juno's  felf  cor.troul'd. 

They  all  approve  ;  and  to  the  rural  fane, 
Around  their  fov'reign,  moves  the  joyful  train ; 
The  goddefs  plac'd,  in  order  each  fucceeds, 
With  fong  and  dance  the  genial  feafl  proceeds ; 
While  to  the  fprigluly  harp  the  voice  explains 
The  loves  of  all  the  gods  in  wanton  ftrains : 
But  when  arriv'd  the  filent  heur,  which  brings 
The  fhades  of  ev'ning  on  its  dewy  wings, 
Zelotype,  impatient  to  purfue 
Her  journey,  haft'ning  to  her  cave,  withdrew ;, 
Firft  to  her  feet  the  winged  fhoes  fhe  binds, 
Which  tread  the  air,  and  mount  the  rapid  winds ; 
Aloft  they  bear  her  through  th'  ethereal  plain, 
Above  the  folid  earth  and  liquid  main  : 
Her  arrows  next  fhe  takes  of  pointed  fteel, 
For  fight  too  fmall,  but  terrible*  to  feel ; 
Rous'd  by  their  fmart,  the  favage  lion  roars, 
And  mad  to  combat  rulh  the  tuiky,  boars, 


Of    wounds '  fecure ;    for    where    their    venom 

lights,  _ 

What  feels  their  power  all  other  torment  flights. 
A  figiir'd  zone,  myfterioufly  deiign'd, 
Around  her  waifl  her  yeliow  robe  confin'd : 
There  dark  fufpicion  lurk'd,  of  fubb  hue  ; 
There  hafty  rage  his  deadiy  dagger  drew  ; 
Pale  envy  inly  piu'd ;  and  by  her  fide 
Stood  phrenzy,  raging  with  his  chains  urtty'd; 
Affronted  pride  with  thirft  of  vengeance  burn'd, 
And  love's  excefs  to  deepeft  hatred  turn'd. 
All  thefe  the  artift's  curious  hand  exprefs'd, 
The  work  divine  his  matchlefs  fkill  confefs'd. 
The  virgin  lail,  around  her  fhoulders  flung 
The  bo\y ;  aad  by  her  fide  the  quiver  hung  : 
Then,  fpringing  up,  her  airy  courfe  fhe  bends 
i  or  Thebes;  and  lightly  6'er  the  tents  defcends. 
The  fon  of  Tydeus,  'midfl  his  bands,  fhe  found 
In  arms  complete,  repofing  on  the  ground; 
And,  as  he  flept,  the  hero  thus  addrefs'd, 
Her  form  to  fancy's  waking  eye  exprels'd. 

Thrice  happy  youth  !  whole  glory  'tis  to  fhare 
The  Paphian  goddefs's  peculiar  care ; 
But  happy  only,  as  you  now  improve 
The  warning  feat,  an  earneft  of  her  love. 
Her  meffenger  (  am  :  if  in  your  heart 
The  fair  Hefperian  virgin  claims  a  part; 
If,  with  regret,  you'd  fee  her  matchicfs  charms 
Deftin'd  to  blefs  a  happier  rival's  arms  ; 
Your  coafts  defencelefs,  and  unguarded  tow'rs 
Confum'd  and  ravag'd  by  the  Latian  pow'rs ; 
Withdraw  your  wan iors  from  the  Argive  haft, 
And  fave  whate' er  you  value,  ere  'tis  loft. 
For  Echetu?,  who  rules  with  tyrant  force, 
Where  Aufidus  directs  his  downward  courfe; 
And  high  Garganus,  on  th'  Apulian  ftrand, 
Marks  to  the  mariner  the  diftant  land, 
Prepare ;,  by  fwift  invafion,  to  remove 
Your  virgin  bride,  and  difappoint  your  love. 
Before,  excited  by  her  matchlefs  charms, 
He  claim'd  her  from  her  fire  by  hoftile  arms ; 
Pelignium  raz'd,  the  hero's  royal  feat, 
When  in  your  land  he  fought  a  fafe  retreat. 
Caffandra  followed  with  reluctant  mind, 
To  love  the  tyrant  fecretly  inclin'd  ; 
Though   fierce  and  barb'rous  in    extreme,   he 

feeds, 

With  mangl'd  limbs  of  men,  his  hungry  fteeds. 
And  now  at  anchor  on  the  Latian  tide, 
With  all  their  train  on  board,  his  galleys  ride : 
Prepar'd,  when  favo'jr'd  by  the  weftern  breeze, 
With  courfe  dired:  to  crofs  the  natrow  feas. 
This  to  your  ear  the  Paphian  goddefs  fends ; 
The  reft  upon  your  timely  care  depends. 

She  faid ;  and,  turning,  fix'd  upon  the  bow 
A  vcnom'd  fhaft,  the  caufe  of  future  woe  : 
Then,  with  reverted  aim,  the  fubtile  dart 
Difmifs'd,  and  fix'd  it  in  the  hero's  heart. 
Amaz'd  he  v/ak'd;  and,  on  his  arm  reclin'd, 
With  fighs  thus  fpoie  the  anguifh  of  his  mind  : 

What  dire  difafters  all  my  ways  befet ! 
How  clofe  around  me  pitch'd  the  fatal  net 5 
Here  if  I  flay,  nor  quit  the  Argive  hoft, 
JEtolia's  ravag'd,  and  Cafuindra's  loft : 
For  fure  the  pow'rs  immortal  ne'er  in  vain 
To  mortals  thus  the  fecret  fates  explain. 
If  I  retire,  the  princes  muft  upbraid 
My  plighted  faitH  infrin^'d,  the  hoft  betray'dj 


EPIGONIAD,  BOOK!. 


And,  to  fucceeding  times,  the  voice  of  fame, 
With  cowardice  and  floth,  will  biot  my  name. 
Between  thefe  fad  alternatives  I  find' 
No  diftant  hopes  to  footh  my  anxious  mind  ; 
Unlefs  I  could  perfuade  the  Argive  pow'rs 
To  quit  at  once  thefe  long-conteited  tow'rs: 
Nor  want  i  reafons  fpecious  in  debate 
To  move  the  bo:deft  warriors  to  retreat. 
Divided  thus,  the  fhame  would  lighter  fall ; 
Reproach  is  fcarce  reproach  which  touches  all. 

Thus  pond'ring  in  his  mind  the  hero  lay, 
Till  darkneis  fled  before  the  morning  ray  : 
Then  rofe  ;  and,  grafping  in  his  mighty  hand 
The  regal  ftaff,  the  fign  of  high  command, 
Penfive  and  fad  forfook  his  lofty  tent, 
And  fought  the  fon  of  Dares  as  he  went ; 
Talthybius  he  fought,  :ior  fought  in  vain  ; 
He  found  the  hero  'midft  his  native  train ; 
And  charg'd  him  to  convene,  from  tent  to  tent, 
The  kings  to  Eteon's  lofty  monument. 

Obedient  to  the  charge,  he  took  his  way, 
Where  Theleus  'midft  the  bold  Athenians  lay, 
The  king  of  men  ;  in  whofe  fti'ierior  hand, 
Confenting  princes  plac'd  the  chief  com  nand. 
Adraftus  next  he  call'd,  vvhofe  hoary  hairs 
By  age  were  whiten'd  and  a  length  of  cares ; 
Who  tint  to  Thebes  the  Argive  warriors  led: 
In  vam  for  Polynices'  ri^,ht  they  bled, 
By  fate  decreed  to  fall ;   he  now  infpires 
The  fons  to  conquer,  and  avenge  their  fires. 
Ulyfles  heard,  wno  led  his  martial  train, 
In  twenty  fhips,  acrofs  the  founding  main  : 
The  youth,  in  Ithaca   Zaeynthus,  bred, 
And  Cephalenia  crown'd  with  l.;fty  (hade. 
The  Si>artan  monarch,  with  his  brother,  heard 
The  herald's  call ;  and  at  the  call  appear'd  s 
Yet  young  in  arms,  but  dHiin'd  to  c-ommand 
All  Greece,  alTemblcd  on  the  Trojan  ftrand, 
The  Cietan  cm>f  appear'd  ;  and  he  whole  fway 
Mefleniaand  the  Pylian  realms  obey. 
Oileus  nest  he  call'd,  whofe  nrarrial  pow'rs 
From  Berfa  move  and  Scarphe's  lofty  tow'rs. 
Elpenor  too,  who  from  the  Chalcian  Prand 
And  fair  Kretria  led  his  martial  band, 
Appear'd  :  and-all  who  merited  renown 
In  ten  years  war  before  the  Trojan  town. 
Achi'le*-  only,  yet  unfit  to  wield 
The  Pelian  jav'lin,  and  the  pond'rous  fhield, 
In  t'hthia  ftaid  ;   to  Chiron's  care  refign'd, 
Whole  wile  inftrudriors  f">rm'd  his  mighty  mind. 
The  chiefs  were  p!ac'd.     Superior  to  the  re(t 
The  monarch  fat,  and  thus  the  peer*  addrefs'd : 

Princes!  let  Tydeus'  valiant  fon  declare 
What  caufe  convenes  the  fenate  of  the  war. 
If  of  himfelf,  ot  from  advice  he  knows 
Some  fecret  miP.hief  plotted  by  our  foes, 
Which  prudence  may  prevent,  or  force  refill, 
We  come  prepar'd  to  counfel  and  afiilt  : 
The  monarch  thus.     Tydides  thus  reply" d, 
And  drew  attention  deep  cm  ev'ry  fide. 

Princes  1  I  have  not  now  the  hoit  conven'd, 
For  fecrets  by  intelligence  obtain'd  ; 
But  openly  my  judgment  to  exprefs 
Of  mifchiefs  feen,  which  prudence  muft  redrefs  : 
By  war's  devouring  rage,  our  martial  pow'rs 
Grew  thin -and  \vafte  before  theie  lio&ie  tow'rs ; 


tc 

ile  Thebes,   fecure,  our  vain  attempts  with- 

ft  ands, 

3y  daily  aid  fuftain'd  from  diftant  lands. 
Shall  we  proceed  to  urge  this  dire  debate, 
And  prefs,  with  hoftile  arms,  the  I'lieban  ftate  ? 
Or,  by  experience  taught  the  worft  to  fear, 
"onfult  the  public  fafety,  and  forbear  ? 
Had  our  great  fires,  by  happier  counfels  fway'd, 
As  prudence  taught,  neceflity  obey  d  ; 
Renounc'd  in  time  this  fatal  ftrife,  which  brings 
Alike  to  nations  mifchief,  and  to  kings ; 
Thofe  heroes  had  not,  with  their  martial  train, 
DiftinguiflVd  by  their  fall  a  foreign  plain. 
The  gods  themfelves  in  vengeance  for  our  crimes, 
With  fuch  difafters  lafh  the  guilty  tiroes ; 
Jn  judgment  juft,  they  fow'd  the  feeds  of  ftrife, 
To  fweep  tranfgrellors  from  the  feats  of  life. 
Let  him,  who  obilinarely  will,  proceed, 
And  wait  the  vengeance  hov'ring  o'er  his  head ; 
Since  Thebesgrows  ftronger  and  the  Argive  pow'n 
Decreafe,  as  famine  or  the  fword  devours, 
To-morrow  I  withdraw  my  martial  train ; 
Sorftay  to  perifli,  like  my  fire,  in  vain. 

Thus  as  the  hero  fpoke,  the  kings  divide, 
.•Vnd  mingled  murmurs  round  th'  affembly  glide. 
Heard  like  the  found  which    wara  the   careful 

fwain 

Df  fudden  winds  or  thick  defcending  rain ; 
When  mountain  echoes  catch  the  fulleu  roar 
Of  billows  burfting  on  the  fandy  Ihore, 
vnd  hurl  it  round  in  airy  circles  toft'd, 
Till  in  the  dillaiu  clouds  the  voice  is  loft. 
The  king  of  men  to  fudden  rage  refign'd 
\t  once,  the  empire  ot"  his  mighty  mind, 
Vith  (harp  reproaches  haft'ning  to  reply  ; 
jut,  more  fedate,  the  Pylian  monarch  nigh, 
i  adt  to  rife,  the  angry  chief  confin'd :      [clin'd: 
.nd,  whifp'ring,   thus  addrefs'd  with  head  de. 
Tt  ill  becomes  ;he  prince,  whofe  fov'reign  hand 
Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fupreme  command, 
To  be  the  tint  in  difcord  ;  and  obey 
Vs  headlong  paffion  blindly  leads  the  way. 
-"or  when  the  kings  in  rafli  debate  engage, 
'  Tis  yours  to  check  and  moderate  their  rage  ; 
Since,  of  the  various  ills  that  can  diftrefs 
Confed'rate  councils  and  prevent  fuccefs, 
Difcord  is  chief;  where'er  the  fury  fways, 
The  parts  flie  fevers,  and  the  whole  betrays. 

The  hero  thus.     The  king  of  men  remain' J 
By  found  advice  perfuaded,  and  reftrain'd. 
Crete's  valiant  monarch  rofe  ;  and  to  the  reft. 
Thus  fp  >ke  the  dictates  of  his  gen'rous  breaft  1 

Confed'rate  kings,  when  any  leader  here 
The  war  diffuades,  and  wants  you  to  forbear, 
I  might  approve  j  for,  fafe  beyond  the  fea, 
Creon  and  Thebes  can  never  injure  me. 
And  when  the  barb'rous  tyrant,  unwithflood, 
H  s  hot  revenge  mail  quench  in  Grecian  blood  ; 
When  Thrace  and  Macedon,  by  his  comtnaad, 
Shall  ravage  Argos  and  the  Pylian  ftrand; 
Secure  and  guarded  by  the  ocean's  ftream, 
Crete's  hundred  towns  (hall  know  it  but  by  fame. 
Yet  would  not  I,  though  many  fuch  were  tounJ, 
For  open  war,  advife  a  peace  unfound, 
Let  Macedon  to  Thebes  her  foccours  fend,  [icend  ; 
And  Thrace,  with,  all  her  barb'ious  Uibcs,  de. 


THE   WORKS    OF   WILKIE. 


By  foreign  ai3s  the  mote  our  foes  increafe, 

The  greater  glory  waits  us  from  fuccefs. 

You  all  remember,  on  the  Ifthmean  ftrand 

Where  neighb'ring  feas  befiege  the  ftrait'ned  land, 

When  Greece  enleagu'd  a  full  afiembly  held, 

By  public  juftice  to  the  war  compell'd  ; 

That  blood  of  flaughter'd  victims  drench'd  the 

ground. 

While  oaths  divine  the  willing  nations  bound, 
Ne'er  to  return,  till  our  victorious  pow'rs, 
Had  levell'd  with  the  duft  the  Theban  tow'rs. 
Jove  heard,  and  bid  applauding  thunders  roll, 
Loud  on  the  right ;  they  (hook  the  ftarry  pole  : 
For  Jove  himfelf  is  witnefs  of  our  vows, 
And  him,  who  violates,  his  wrath  purfues. 
Our  joyful  fliouts  the  earth,  the  ocean  heard  ; 
We  claim'd  the  omen,  and  the  god  rever'd  ; 
In  confidence  of  full  fuccefs  we  came, 
To  conquer  Thebes,  and  win  immortal  fame. 
But  if  the  gods  and  fate  our  fears  diftruft, 
To  public  juftice  and  ourfelves  unjuft  ; 
Diflionour'd  to  our  native  feats  we  go, 
And  yield  a  lading  triumph  to  the  foe.         [ghoft 
Should  now,  from  hence  arriv'd,  fome  warrior's 
Greet  valiant  Tydeus  on  the  Stygian  coaftj 
And  tell,  when  danger  of  diitrefs  is  near, 
That  Diomed  purfues  the  reft  to  fear; 
He'd  fliun  the  fynod  of  the  mighty  dead, 
And  hide  his  anguifh  in  the  deepeft  fhade  : 
Nature  in  all  an  equal  courle  maintains ; 
The  lion's  whelp  fucceeds  to  awe  the  plains; 
Pards  gender  pards ;  from  tygers  tygers  fpring  ; 
No  doves  are  hatch'd  beneath  a  vulture's  wing  : 
Each  parent's  image  in  his  offspring  lives ; 
But  nought  of  Tydeus  in  his  fon  furvives. 

He  faid  ;  and  by  his  fliarp  reproaches  ftung, 
And  wav'ring  in  fufpenfe  the  hero  hung, 
In  words  now  prone  to  vent  his  kindl'd  ire, 
Or  fix'd  in  fullen  filence  to  retire. 
As  when  a  current,  from  the  ocean  wide, 
Rolls,  through  the  Cyc lades,  its  angry  tide  ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  in  circling  eddies  tofs'd, 
The  certain  tenor  of  its  courfe  is  loft, 
Each  wary  pilot  for  his  fafety  fears 
In  mute  fufpenfe,  and  trembles  as  he  fteers : 
Such  feem'd  the  tumult  of  the  hero's  breaft, 
And  fuch  amazement  long  reftrain'd  the  reft. 
Laertes'  fon  at  laft  the  filence  broke, 
And,  riling,  thus  with  prudent  purpofe  fpoke  : 
Princes  !  I  counfel  war ;  but  will  not  blame 
The  chief  diflenting,  whofe  illuftrious  name 
We  all  muft  honour  :  yet,  with  patience,  hear 
What  now  I  offer  to  the  public  ear. 
I  freely  own  the  unnumber'd  ills  that  wait 
On  ftrife  prolong'd,  and  war's  difaftrous  ftate. 
With  war  lean  famine  and  difeafes  dwell, 
And  difcord  fierce,  efcap'd  the  bounds  of  hell. 
Where'er  on  earth  her  courfe  the  fury  bends 
A  crowd  of  mifchiefs  ftill  her  fteps  attends; 
Fear  flies  before  her  fwifter.than  the  wind, 
And  defolation  marks  her  path  behind. 
Yet  her,  attended  thus,  the  gods  ordain 
Stern  arbitrefs  of  right  to  mortal  men  ; 
To  awe  injuftice  with  her  lifted  fpear, 
And  teach  the  tyrants  of  the  earth  to  fear. 
If  Thebes  is  perjur'd,'  and  exerts  her  might 
For  ufurpation  14  conteqjot  of  right ; 


(If  oaths  defpis'd,  and  all  the  ties  which  i>in3 
The  great  fociety  of  human  kind) 
For  Eteocles  in  the  war  (he  flood, 
And   drench'd  her  thirfty  fields  with    Grecian 
blood ;  [vain 

The  gods  themfelves   have   err'd,   and   pluc'd   in 
The  Icepter'd  kings  injuftice  to  reftrain  ; 
Eile  liie  deferves  the  laft  extremes  *crieel 
Of  vvafteful  fire  and  keen  devouring  fteel. 
Though  prudence  urg'd  and  equity  approv'd, 
Joining  to  fecond  what  Tydides  mov'd, 
We  could  not  hope  the  war  for  peace  to  change, 
Thebes  thinks  not  now  of  fafety  but  revenge. 
Laft  night,  difguis'd,  I  mingled  with  the  foe, 
Their  fecret  hopes  and  purpofes  to  know ; 
And  found  that  Creon,  with  his  martial  train, 
This  day  intends  to  brave  us  on  the  plain,  [claim'd^ 
Greece   too,   I    heard,    by  barb'rous   fovereigns 
Some  Athens,  Afgos,  fome  Mycaene  nam'd; 
Sparta  and  Pylos,  with  the  various  towns 
Which  grace.in  profpecT;  fair,  th'  Arcadian  down* : 
Others  .^Etolia  challeng'd  for  their  lot  j 
Nor  was  ev'n  Ithaca  itfelf  forgot. 
From  fuch  vain  hopes  to  boafting  they  proceed; 
Each  promifes  to  win  fome  hero's  head. 
Leophron  too,  diftinguifli'd  from  the  reft, 
Superior  pride  and  infolence  exprefs'd  ; 
In  form  a  god  he  'midft  th'  aflembly  flood, 
By  all  ador'd  the  idol  of  the  crowd  ; 
And  promis'd,  if  he  chanc'd  in  fight  to  rjieet 
Th'  .fluolian  chief,  to  ftretch  him  at  his  feet ; 
Unlefsfome  god  oppos'd,  or  daftard  fear, 
By  fudden   flight,  flioald  fnatch   him  from  his 

fpear. 

Can  we  then  hope  by  peace  to  end  our  toils, 
When  foes  fecure  already  (hare  our  fpoils  ? 
Peace  to  expect  from  flight  itfelf  were  vain  ; 
And  flight,  I  know;  your  gen'rous  fouls  difdain. 

He  faid.     The  chiefs  with  indignation  burn'd  j 
And  Diomed  fubmitting  thus  return'd  : 
Princes  !  I  need  not  for  myfelf  profe/s, 
What  all  have  witnefs'd,  all  muft  fure  confefs; 
That  in  the  front  of  battle  ftill  engag'd, 
I  never  fhunn'd  to  mingle  where  it  rag'd. 
Nor  now  does  fear  perfuade  me  to  retire, 
Falfe  Creon  fafe,  and  guilty  f  hebes  entire  ; 
But  war  and  famine  thin  our  martial  pow'rs, 
Whilft  adverfe  fates  protect  the  Theban  tow'rs. 
And  as  the  careful  (hepherd  turns  his  fleck 
Back  from  the  dangers  of  the  (lipp'ry  rock, 
And    from   the   haunts  where  foxes    mark    the 

ground, 

Or  rapid  rivers  flow  with  banks  unfonnd  ; 
So  kings  fliould  warn  the  people  to  forbear 
Attempts,  when  lymptoms  mark  deftruclion  nean 
But  fince  the  leaders,  with  consenting  voice. 
For  war  already  fix  the  public  choice  ; 
I  freely  yield,-nor  ever  will  diride, 
Where  all  deliberate,  and  all  decide. 

The  hero  thus,  and  ceas'd.     And  thus  the  reft, 
From  his  high  feat,  the  king  of  men  addrefs'd : 
Since  war  is  now  decreed,  'tis  next  our  care 
That  all  (hould  fpeedily  for  fight  prepare. 
Creon,  this  day,  intends  with  all  his  train 
To  try  our  valour  on  the  equal  plain  ; 
And  will,  with  diligence,  improve  an  hour, 
Which  finds  us  inattentive  And  fecure. 


EPIGONIAD,    Boocl. 


Firft;  let  eaeh  leader  with  his  hands  in  hafte 
Snatch,  as  the  timi  allows,  a  ftiort  repaft ; 
Then  arm  for  fight,  and  to  the  field  proceed, 
The  phalanx  following  as  the  chariots  lead. 
Who  arms  the  firtt,  and  firft  to  combat  goes, 
Though  weaker,  feems  fuperior  to  his  foes ; 


But  fuch  as  lag  are  more  than  half  o'erthrown, 
Lefs  in  the  eyes  of  others  and  their  own. 

The  monarch  thus.  The  princes  all  aflent. 
Straight  from  the  council  through  the  hoft  they 
To  arm  their  bands  with  diligence  and  care ;  [went, 
They  all  obey,  and  all  for  fight  prepare. 


B  O  O  K  II. 


ASSEMBLED  on  the  plain,  the  Theban  pow'rs 
In  order'd  ranks  appear  before  the  tow'rs ; 
Creon  their  leader,  whofe  fuperior  fway 
The  partial  fons  of  facred  Thebes  obey. 
The  chiefs  obedient  to  his  high  command, 
Rul'd  the  whole  war,  and  marfhall'd  every  band. 
His  valiant  ton  the  tirft,  his  country's  boaft, 
Her  noblefl  hope,  the  bulwark  of  her  hoft, 
Leophron,  to  the  field  the  warriors  led, 
"Whom  Thebes  herfelf  within  her  ramparts  bred: 
Peneleus^  who  from  Medeon  led  his  pow'rs, 
CEchalia  low,  and  Arne's  lofty  tow'rs : 
Leitus  from  Thefpia,  where  the  verdant  fhades 
Of  Helicon  invite  the  tuneful  maids  : 
Porthenus  rich,  whole  wide  poffeffions  lay 
Where  fam'd  /Efopus  winds  his  wat'ry  way; 
Beneath  Cytheron's  height,  the  lofty  mound 
Which  parts  Boeotian  plains  from  hoftiie  ground  : 
Phencles,  who  the  valiant  warriors  led 
In  iMycaleffus,  Harma,  Aulis,  bred  : 
Andremon,  leader  of  his  native  band, 
From  lofty  Schcenus  on  th'  Ifmenian  ftrand : 
And  Anthedon,  where  fwift  Euripus  pent 
.Divides  Eubcea  frorti  the  continent : 
Tliefe  rul'd  the  Theban  pow'rs,  beneath  the  care 
Of  Creon,  chief  and  fov'reign  of  the  war. 

The  aids  from  Macedon  the  next  were  plac'd  ; 
Their    fhining    cafques    with    waving    plumage 

grac'd ; 

A  wolf's  gray  hide,  around  their  fhoulders  flung, 
With  martial  grace  above  their  armour  hung : 
Frona  high  Dodona's  facred  fliades  they  came ; 
CalTander  led  them  to  the  fields  of  fame. 
The  Thracians  next,  a  formidable  band  ; 
Nations  and  tribes  diftincl,  in  order  (land: 
Byzantines  fierce.,  whofe  crooked  keels  divide 
The  Pontic  gulf,  and  Item  the  downward  tide  : 
In  Grecian  arms  the  hardy  warriors  move, 
With  pond'rous  fhields  and  glitt'ring  fpears  above. 
The  Thynians  next  were  marfhall'd  on  the  field  ; 
Each  with  a  faulchion  arm'd,  and  lunar  fhield, 
Whofe'  bending  horns  a  verge  of  filver  bound  ; 
And  figures  fierce  their  brazen  helmets  crown'd  : 
With  thefe  the.Daci  came,  a  martial  race  ; 
Fierce  as  their  clime,   they  rear  the  pond'rous 

mace ; 

In  giant  ftrength  fecure,  they  fcorn  the  fpear, 
And  crufh,  with  weighty  blows,  the  ranks  of  war; 
From  liter's  icy  dreams,  a  barb'rous  crowd, 
In  fhaggy  furs,  a  herd  promifcuous  flood  ; 
Swift  as  their  favage  game  :  for  wide  they  roam 
In  tribes  and  nations,  ignorant  of  home  ; 
Excelling  all  who  boaft  fuperior  fkill 
To  fend  the  winded  arrow  fwift  to  kill : 


Thefe  Rhoefus  rul'd,  of  various  tribes  compos'd, 
By  various  leaders  on  the  field  difpos'd. 

To  fight  the  Argives  mov'd  in  clofe  array  : 
Bright  fhone  their  arms,  and  flalh'd  redoubled  day; 
Refolv'd,  and  (till  as  filent  night,  they  go  ; 
Nor  with  infulting  ftiouts  provoke  the  foe. 
Thick  from  their  Itcps,  in  dufky  volumes,  rife 
The  parched  fields,  and  darken  all  the  fkies. 
Beneath  the  (hade,  the  ardent  warriors  clofe ; 
Their  fhields    and    helmets  ring  with  founding 

blows. 

Firft  Menelaus  ftruck  a  Theban  lord ; 
His  armed  bread  the  weighty  lance  explor'd; 
Burft  the  clofe  mail ;  the  mining  breaftplate  tore; 
And  from  life's  fountain  drew  a  ftream  of  gore. 
Supine  he  fell  amidft  his  native  bands, 
And  wrench'd  the  fixed  dart  with  dying  hands. 
To  ipoil  the  (lain  the  fon  of  Atreus  flies ; 
The  Thebans  interpofe  with  holtile  cries ; 
And  Creon's  valiant  fon  his  buckler  fpread, 
An  orb  of  triple  brats  to  guard  the  dead  : 
As  Jove's  imperial  bird  her  wings  extends, 
And  from  the  fhepherds*  rage  her  young  defends ; 
So  ftern  Leophron  bore  his  ample  fhield ; 
Like  Mars,  he  ftood  the  terror  of  the  field. 
With  dread  unufual  check'd,  the  Spartan  band 
Recoil'd  ;  Atrides  only  dar'd  to  (land. 
He  thus  .began.  Prefumptuous  youth  !  forbear 
To  tempt  the  fury  of  my  flying  fpear. 
That  warrior  there  was  by  mjr  javelin  flain, 
His  fpoils  to  guard  you  interpofe  in  vain. 
Atrides  thus  ;  and  Creon's  fon  replies  : 
Thy  lance  I  dread  nat,  and  thy  threats  defpife. 
This  hand  hath  many  a  chief  of  high  renown. 
And  braver  warriors  oft  in  fight  o'erthrown  : 
Like  theirs,  thy  fall  (hall  dignify  my  fpear, 
And  future  boafters  thence  be  taught  to  fear. 
Thus  as  he  fpoke,  his  weighty  lance  he  threw 
At  Atreus*  fon  ;  which  riling  as  it  rlew 
Upon  the  hero's  creft  with  furious  fway, 
Glanc'd  as  it  pafs'd,  and  Ihav'd  the  plumes  away. 
Hiffing  amidft  the  Spartan  ranks  it  came, 
And  ftruck  a  youth  of  undiftinguifh'd  name  : 
Cold,  through  his  breaft,  the  fteel  and  polifh'd 

wood 

Apaflage  forc'd,  and  drew  a  ftream  of  blood. 
His  lance  Atrides  next  prepares  to  throw  ; 
Poifes  it  long,  and  meditates  the  blow. 
Then,  from  his  hand  difmifs'd  with  happier  aim, 
rhund'ring  againft  the  Theban  fbield  it  came  ; 
Where  wreath'd  around  a  mimic  icrpent  twin'd, 
With  plates  of  polifh'd  filver  lightly  join'd. 
Thence  turn'd  with  courfe  oblique  it  drove  along. 
And  fpent  its  fury  on  the  vulgar  throng. 


THE  WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


Leophron  ftraight  his  flaming  faulchion  drew, 
And  ^t  his  foe  with  ea^er  fury  flew  : 
As  ftooping  from  above,  an  eagle  fprings 
To  fnatch  his  prey,  and  (hoots  upon  his  wings. 
The  Spartan  warrior  dreads  impending  fate; 
And,  taming,  meditates  a  quick  retreat 
As  when  a  fhepherd  fwain,  in  defert  fhades, 
The  blood-nurs'd  offspring  of  the  wolf  invades; 
If,  from  the  opening  of  fome  thicket  near, 
With  rage  inflam'd,  the  angry  dam  appear, 
With  darts  at  firft,  and  threat'ning  fliouts  he  tries 
To  awe  the  guardian,  and  affcrt  the  prize  : 
But,  when  (he  fprings,  the  dole  encounter  dreads, 
And.  trembling,  fro.B  the  angry  foe  recedes. 
So  Menelaus  fled.   His  native  train, 
In  wild  diforder,  fcatters  o'er  the  plain. 

His  valiant  brother  heard  upon  the  right, 
Where  in  his  lofty  car  he  rul'd  the  fight ; 
And  ro  his  'fquire  Nicomachus.  With  ipeed, 
Turn  to  the  left,  and  urge  the  flying  fteed  : 
For,  if  thefe  founds  deceive  not,  Sparta  fails; 
And,  with  a  tide  of  conqueft,  Thebrs  prevails.     , 
Quick  as  the  word,  the  filver  reins  he  drew, 
And  through  the  fight  the  bounding  chariot  flew. 
Like  fome  fwift  vefiel,  when  a  prolp'rous  gale 
Favours  her  courfe,  and  ftretches  ev'ry  fail ; 
Above  the  parting  waves  me  lightly  flies. 
And  fmooth  behind  a  track  of  ocean  lies: 
So,  'midft  the  combat,  rufla'd  the  lofty  car, 
Pierc'd  the  thick  tumult,  and  di>join'd  the  war. 
But  Clytodemon's  fon  a  jav'lin  threw  ; 
With  force  impell'd,  it  lighten'd  as  it  flew, 
And  ftruck  the  right-hand  courfer  to  the  ground, 
Ethon,  for  fwiftnels  in  the  race  renown'd. 
Behind  his  ear  the  deadly  weapon  ftiod, 
Loos'd  his  high  neck,  and  drew  a  iire:.m  of  blood 
Groaning  he  funk  ;  and  i'pread  his  flowing  mane, 
A  fliining  circle  on  the  dufty  plain. 
Entangled  deep  the  royal  chariot  ftoed, 
With  hoftile  fpears  befet,  an  iron  wood. 

From  his  high  feat  the  Spartan  hero  fprung 
Amid  the  foe  ;  his  clanging  armour  rung, 
Before  the  king,  the  armed  bauds  retire  ; 
As  fhepherd  fwains  avoid  a  lion's  ire, 
When  herce  from  famine  on  their  darts  he  turns, 
And  rage  indignant  in  his  eyeballs  burns. 
Arhid  the  fight.  di!ting:iifh'd  like  the  ttar 
Ot  ev'ning.fhone  hisfiiver  arms  afar  ; 
Which,  o'er  the  hiLls,  its  fetting  light  difplays; 
And  marks  the  ruddy  weft  with  iilver  rays. 
Pale  and  amaz'd  his  brother  chief  he  found, 
An  armed  circle  of  his  friends  around. 
Alas,  my  brother,  have  I  liv'd  to  fee 
Thy  l;fe  redeetn'd  with  deathlefs  infamy! 
•(The  hero  cry'd),  far  better  that  a  ghoft 
You  now  had  wander'd  on  the  Stygian  coaft, 
And  by  a  glorious  fail  preferv'd  your  name 
Safe  and  unbiafted  by  the  breath  of  ft  me  ; 
Which  foon  fliall  tell  the  world,  amaz'd  to  hear, 
That  Menelaus  taught  the  holt  to  fear. 

By  conlcious  guilt  fubdu'd,  the  youth  appear'd  j 
Without  reply,  the  jult  renroach  he  heard  : 
Confounded,  to  the  grour.d  he  turn'd  his  eyes; 
Indignant  thus  the  great  \trides  cries: 
Myceneans !  Spartans  1  taught  to  feek  renown 
Ffom  dangers  greatly  brav'd,  and  battles  won  ; 
Ah  \varriors !  will  ye  fly,  when  clofe  behind 
Difhonour  follows  fwifter  than  the  wind  ? 


Return  to  glory :  whether  Jove  ordains, 
With  wreaths  of  tonqueft,  to  reward  your  pains, 
Or  dooms  your  fall ;  he  merits  equal  praife, 
With  him  who  conquers,  he  who  brav  ly  dies. 
The  hero  thus;  and,  like  fwift  light'inng  driv'n 
Through  fcatter'd  clouds  along  the  vault  of  heav'o 
By  Jove's  dread  arm,  his  martial  voice  infpir'd 
The  fainting  holt,-  and  ev'ry  bofom  fir'd. 
Again  upon  the  conqu'ring  toe  they  turn'd : 
The  war  again  in  all  its  fury  burn'd. 
As  when  the  deep,  which  ebbing  from  the  land 
Along  the  coaft  difplays  a  wafte  of  land. 
Returns  ;  and,  blown  by  angry  tempt-itsf    roars 
A  ftoroiy  deluge  'gainft  the  rocky  fhores : 
So,  rufliing  to  the  fight,  the  warriors  came  ; 
Ardent  to  conquer,  and  retrieve  their  fame. 

Before  his  hoft  the  fon  of  Creon  Itood, 
With  labour'd  duft  obfcuie,  and  hoftile  blood; 
He  thus  eKclaim'd  .    And  mall  this  daftar.1  train 
(Warriors  of  Thebes)!  difpute  the  field  again? 
Their  better  chief,  I  know  him,  leaJs  the  band  ; 
But  fate  fliall  foon  fubdue  him  by  my  hand. 
He  faid;  and  at  the  king  his  jav'lin  threw; 
Which,  aitn'd  amifs,  with  erring  fury  flew. 
Acrofs  the  armed  ranks  it  fwiftly  drove, 
The  warriors  (tooping  as  it  ru:h'd  above. 
The  Spartan  hero  aitn'<!  his  weighty  fpear ; 
And  thus  to  Jove  addrefs'd  an  srdent  prayer : 
Hear  me,  great  fire  of  gods!  whofe  boundlefs fway 
The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey  ; 
Whofe  fov'reign  hand,  with  unrelated  might, 
Deprefles  or  exalts  the  fcales  of  fight : 
Now  grant  fuccefs  to  my  avenging  hand, 
And  ftretch  this  dire  deltroyer  on  the  fand. 
Jove,  grant  me  now  to  reach  his  hated  life, 
And  fave  my  warriors  in  this  doubtful  ftrife. 
The  hero  thus ;  and  fent  his  weighty  fpear, 
With  fpeed  it  flew,  and  pierc'd  the  yielding  air; 
Swift  as  a  faulcon  to  her  quarry  fprings, 
When  down  the  wind  the  ftretches  on  her  wings. 
Leophron,  ftooping,  fliunn'd  the  deadly  ftroke, 
Which  on  the  fliield  of  Hegifander  broke. 
Vain  now  his  lute  ;  in  vain  his  melting  ftrains, 
Soft  as  Apollo's  on  the  Lycian  plains: 
His  foul  excluded,  feeks  the  dark  abodes 
By  Styx  embrac'd,  the  terror  of  the  gods ; 
Where  furly  Charon,  with  his  lifted  oar. 
Drives  the  light  ghofts,  and  rules  the  dreary  more. 

With  grief  Leophron  faw  the  warrior  (lain. 
He  fnatch  d  a  pond'rous  mace  from  off  the  plain, 
Cut  in  the  Thracian  woods,  with  fnags  around 
Of  pointed  fteel,  with  iron  circles  bound. 
Heav'd  with  gigantic  force  the  club  to  throw, 
He  fwung  it  thrice,  and  hurl'd  it  at  his  foe. 
Thund'ring  upon  his  armed  hear!  it  fell ; 
The  brazen  helmet  rang  with  ftunning  knell. 
As  when  a  rock  by  forceful  engines  thrown, 
Where  hoftile  arms  inveft  a  frontier  town, 
Threatening  ileiiruclion,  rolls  along  the  ikies; 
And  war  itlelf  ftands  wqnd'ring  as  it  flies: 
Falls  on  fome  turret's  top,  the  ftrudlure  bends 
Beneath  the  tempelt,  and  at  once  defcends 
With  hideous  craih    thus,  ftooping  to  the  ground, 
Atrides  funk  ;   his  filver  arms  refound. 
But  Pallas,  mixing  in  the  dire  debate, 
A  life  to  refcue  yet  not  due  to  fate, 
Had  o'er  his  head  her  cloudy  buckler  held; 
And  half  the  fury  of  the  blow  repjll'd. 


EPIGONIAD,   BOOK!!. 

The  fon  of  Creon  rufiYd  to  feize  his  prize, 

The  hero's  fpoils  ;  and  thus  exulting  cries : 

Warriors  of  Theses  !  your  labours  loon  fhall  ceafe, 

And  final  victory  re  (lore  your  peace  ; 

For  great  Amdes,  by  my  valour  flain, 

A  liielefs  corfe,  lies  ftretch'd  upon  the  plain. 

Only  be  men '.  and  make  the  Argive  bands 

Dread  in  fucceeding  times  your  mighty  hands; 

That  foes  no  more,  when  maid  ambition  calls, 

With  r.ire  alarms  may  fhake  your  peaceful  walls. 

Exulting  thus,  the  hero  rufli'd  along  ; 

And  kindled,  with  his  fhouts,  the  vulgar  throng. 

RefolvM  and  firm  the  Spartan  warriors  (land 

Around  their  king,  a  formidable  band. 

Their  fpcars,  protended  thick,  |he  foe  reftrain'd  ; 

Their  bucklers  join'ri,  the  weighty  war  fuitain'd. 

But  as  a  mountain  wolf,  from  famine  bold, 

On  prey  intent^  furveys  the  midnight  fold ; 

Where,  in  the  flicker  of  fome  arching  rock, 

At  ev'n  the  careful  fhepherd  pens  his  flock:        * 

On  fpoil  and  ravage  bent,  he  (talks  around, 

And  meditates  to  (pring  the  lofty  mound  : 

Impatient  thus  the  Theban  chief  furvey'd 

The  clofe-compacted  ranks  on  ev'ry  lide  ; 

To  find  where  leaft  the  ferred  orb  could  bear 

The  ftrong  impreffion  of  a  pointed  war. 

Him  Menelaus  faw,  with  anguifh  ftung ; 

And,  from  amidll  his  armed  warriors,  fprung 

With  wrath  inflam'd  ;  as  darting  from  a  brake, 

Againfl  (brae  trav'ller,  darts  a  crefted  fnake. 

His  rage  in  vain  the  Theban  ranks  withftand ; 

The  braved  warriors  fink  beneath  his  hand. 

Clytaiuler,  Iphitus,  Palemon,  fatn'd. 

For  chariots  rul  d  and  fiery  courfers  tam'd; 

And  Iphialtes,  like  the  god  of  light, 

Whole  pointed  arrows  thinn'd  the  lines  of  fight : 

Thefe  the  (kit  tranfports  of  his  fury  feel. 

Againft  Leophron  now  he  lifts  his  fteel, 

And  fpeeds  to  vengeance  ;  but,  in  full  Career, 

He  Itood  arrefted  by  a  vulgar  fpear. 

Fix'd  in  his  thigh  the  barbed  weapon  hung, 

Relax'd  the  mufcles,  and  the  nerves  unflrung. 

The  Spartan  warriors  to  his  fuccour  flew  ; 

Againit  the  darts  their  ample  (hields  they  threw, 

Which  ftorm'd  around  ;  and,  from  the  rage  ot  war, 

Convey'd  the  woundtd  hero  to  his  car. 
With  fierce  impatience  Creor.'s  fon  beheld 

The  Spartan  warriors  dill  difpute  the  field. 

Before  their  leader  fali'n,  the  hero  ftocd ; 

Their  fpears  creeled,  like  the  (acred  wood 

Which  round  fome  altar  rifes  on  the  plain, 

The  myftic  rites  to  hide  from  eyes  profane.  . 

Thither  his  native  bands  the  hero  turn'd  ; 

Drawn  to  a  wedge,  again  the  combat  burn'd. 

Through  all  the  air  a  (torm  of  jav'lins  fung  ; 

With  founding  blows  each  hollow  buckler  rung. 

Firft  Enopseus  felt  a  deadly  wound, 

Who  in  Amycle  till'd  the  fruitful  ground  ; 

To  great  Andremon's  fpear  he  yields  his  breath, 

And  (tarts  and  quivers  in  the  graip  of  death. 

Next  Hegelippus  prefs'd  th'  infanguin'd  plain ; 

Leophron's  jav'iin  mix'd  him  with  the  flain. 

On  Malea's  cliffs  he  fed  his  fleecy  (lore, 

Along  the  windings  of  the  craggy  fliore. 

He  vovv'd  to  Phoebus,  for  a  fafe  return, 

An  hundred  viclims  on  his  hearth  to  burn. 

In  vain  !  the  god,  in  juftice,  had  decreed, 


H:s  gifts  coaienni'd,  the  offerer  to  bleed  : 


Fpr  violence  augmented  ftill  his  More ; 
And,  unreliev'd,  the  ftranger  left  his  door. 
Prone  on  the  bloody  ground  the  warrior  fell; 
His  foul  indignant  fought  the  (hades  of  hell. 

Next  Areas,  Cleon,  valiant  Chromius,  dy'd  ; 
With  Dares,  to  the  Spartan  chiefs  ally'd. 
And  Phoemius,  whom  the  god*  in  early  youth 
Had  form'd  for  virtue  and  the  love  ot"  truth  j 
His  gen'rous  foul  to  noble  deeds  they  tnrn'd, 
And  love  to  mankind  in  his  bofoin  burn'd : 
Cold  through  his  throat  the  hiding  weapon  glides* 
And  on  his  neck  the  waving  locks  divides. 
His  fate  the  graces  mourn'd.    The  gods  above, 
Who  (it  around  the  ftarry  throne  of  Jove, 
On  high  Olympus  bending  from  the  fkies, 
His  fate  beheld  with  forrow-ltreatning  eyes. 
Pallas  alone,  unalter'd  and  i'erene, 
With  fecret  triumph  faw  the  mournful  fcene  t 
Not  hard  of  heart ;  for  none  of  all  the  pow'r?, 
In  earth  or  ocean,  or  th*  Olympian  tow'ri, 
Holds  equal  fympathy  with  human  grief, 
Or  with  a  freer  hand  beftows  relief ; 
But  confcious  that  a  mind  by  virtue  fteel'd, 
To  no  impreffion  of  diltrefs  will  yield  ; 
That,  (till  unconquer'd,  in  its  awful  hour 
O'er  death  it  triumphs  with  immortal  pow'r. 

Now  I  hebes  prevailing,  Sparta's  hoft  retreats; 
As  falls  fome  rampart  where  the  ocean  beats: 
Unable  to  refift  its  (tormy  way, 
Mounds  heap'd  on  mounds,  and  bars  of  rock  give 

way; 

With  inundation  wide  the  deluge  reigns, 
Drowns  the  deep  valleys,   and  o'cripreads  the 

plains. 

Thus  o'er  the  field,  by  great  Leophron  led, 
Their  foes  repuls'd,  the  Theban  fquadrons  fpreai. 
The  hero,  (looping  where  Atrides  lay, 
Rent  from  his  head  the  golden  cafque  away  ; 
His  mail  unJock'd  ;  and  loos'd  the  golden  chains, 
The  zone  which  by  his  fide  the  fword  fuftains. 
The  monarch  now  amid  the  vulgar  dead, 
For  wheels  to  cru(h  and  armed  hoofs  to  tread, 
Defencelefs  lay.    But  ftern  Leophron's  hate 
Retriev'd  him,  thus  expos'd,  from  certain  fate. 
In  femblance  dead,  he  purpos'd  to  convey 
The  body  naked  to  fome  public  way  ; 
Where  dogs  obfcene,  and  all  the  rav'nous  race, 
With  wounds  unfightly,  might  his  limbs  difgrace. 
Straight  heccmmands;  and  toa  neighb'ring  grove. 
His  warriors,  charg'd,  the  Spartan  chief  remove. 
On  theirbroad  Ihields  they  bore  him  from  the  plain, 
To  fenfe  a  corfe,  and  number'd  with  the  (bin. 
His  fixed  eyes  in  hov'ring  (hades  were  drown'd; 
His  mighty  limbs  in  death-like  fetters  bound. 
The  (houts  tumultuous,  and  the  din  of  war, 
His  ear  receiv'd  like  murmurs  from  afar  ; 
Or  as  fome  peafant  hears,  fecurely  laid 
Beneath  a  vaulted  cliff  or  woodland-ihade, 
When  o'er  his  head  unnumber'd  infecls  flag 
In  airy  rounds,  the  children  of  the  fpring. 
Adraflus'  valiant  fon,  with  grief,  beheld 
The  Spartans  to  inglorious  flight  compell'd; 
Their  valiant  chief  refign'd  to  hoflile  hands. 
He  thus  aloud  addrek'd  the  fcatt'ring  bands: 
What  fliame,  ye  warriors '.  if  ye  thus  e-xpofe 
Your  leader  to  the  injuries  of  foes ! 
Though  all  fliould  quit  him,  honour  bids  you  bring 
His  relics  back,  or  perifli  with  your  king. 


THE  WORKS   OF  WILKIE. 


Leophron  fure  injurioufly  ordains, 
"With  infults,  to  deface  hfs  dear  remains ; 
Spurn'd  by  the  feet  of  men,  expos'd  and  bare, 
For  dogs  obfcene,  and  rav'nous  birds  to  fliare. 
Exclaiming  thus,  through  all  the  field  he  flew  j 
And  call'd  the  hoft  the  conflict  to  renew. 
They  flop,  they  charge  ;  again  the  combat  burns 

/They  bleed,  they  conquer,  and.  retreat  by  turns. 
Hegialus  excites  the  dire  debate  ; 
And,  by  example,  leads  the  work  ef  fate  : 
Por  now  he  fees  AtrideS  borne  afar,  «" 
By  hoftile  hands,  beyond  the  lines  of  war. 
"With  indignation  fierce  his  bofom  glows; 
He  rufhes  fearlefs  'midft  a  hoft  of  foes  ; 
And  now  had  merited  a  deathlefs'name, 
And  with  a  deed  immortal  crown'd  his  fame, 
Atrides  liv'd;  but  fate's  fupreme  command 
That  honour  deftin'd  for  a  mightier  hand. 
.    Leophron  vex'd,  that  twice  conftrain'd  to  yield, 
The  Spartan  warriors  re-affum'd  the  field, 
His  pow'rs  addrefs'd  :  For  ever  loft  our  fame, 
Dishonour  foul  will  blot  the  Theban  name; 
If  daftard  foes,  twice  routed  and  purfu'd, 
Shall  brave  the  victors,  ftill  with  rage  renew'd. 
Your  glory  gain'd  with  vigour  now  maintain ; 
Nor  let  us  conquer  thus  and  bleed  in  vain. 
He  faid,  and  'gainft  the  Argive  hero  turn'd  ; 
"With  martial  wrath  his  ardent  bofom  burn'd  ; 
Who,  fearlefs  and  undaunted,  dar'd  to  wait ; 
Nor  by  ignoble  flight  declin'd  his  fate. 
For  at  the  Theban  chief  his  lance  he  threw, 
Which,  aim'd  amifs,  with  eiring  fury  flew  : 
Beyond  the  hoftile  ranks  the  weapon  drove  ; 
The  warriors  (looping  as  it  rufli'd  above. 
Not  fo  the  Theban  fpear ;  with  happier  aim, 
Full  to  the  centre  of  the  fhieJd.  it  came; 
And,  rifing  fwiftly  from  the  polifh'd  round, 
His  throat  transfix'd,  and  bent  him  to  the  ground. 
To  fpoil  the  flain  the  ardent  vidlor  flew : 
The  Spartan^bands  the  bloody  fhock  renew; 
Fierce  to  the  charge  with  tenfold  rage  return, 
And  all  at  once  with  third  of  vengeance  burn. 
O'er  all  the  field  the  raging  tumult  grows; 
And  ev'ry  helmet  rings  with  founding  blows ; 
But  moft  around  the  Argive  hero  dead  ; 
There  toil  the  mightieft,  there  the  braveft  bleed. 
As  when  outrageous  winds  the  ocean  fweep, 
And  from  the  bottom  ftir  the  hoary  deep; 
O'er  all  the  wat'ry  plain  the  tempeft  raves, 
Mixing  in  conflict  loud  the  angry  waves : 
But  where  fome  pointed  cliff  the. furface  hides, 
Whofe  top  unfeen  provokes  the  an^ry  tides, 
With> tenfold  fury  there  the  billows  fly, 
And  mount  in  fmoke  and  thunder  to  the  flty. 

Adraftus,  by  unadlive  age  reftrain'd, 
Behind  the  army  on  a  mount  remained ; 
Under  an  oak  the  hoary  warrior  fat, 
And  look'd  and  liften'd  to  the  dire  debate. 
Now,  tam'd  by  age,  his  courfers  ftood  unbound  ; 
His  ufeleis  arms  lay  fcatter'd  on  the  ground ; 


Two  aged  heralds  there  trie  chief  obey'd  ; 
The  'fquire  attending  by  his  mailer  ftay'd. 
And  thus  the  king:  What  founds  invade  mine 

ear  ? 

'My  friends  !  what  fad  difafter  mufl  we  hear? 
:>ome  hero's  fall ;  for  with  the  fhouts,  I  know 
Loud  lamentation  mixt,  and  founds  of  woe. 
So  were  we  told,  when  mighty  Tydeus  fell, 
And  Polynices  trod  the  path  to  hell  ; 
So  rag'd  the  combat  o'er  the  hero  flain, 
And  fuch  the  din  and  tumult  of  the  plain. 
He  faid  ;  and  lilt'ryng  (what  he  greatly  fear'd)  ] 
Hegialus's  name  at  leaft  he  heard 
Mix'd  with  the  noife  ;  and,  fick'ning  at  the  found 
By  grief  fubdu'd,  fell  profti  ate  on  the  ground. 
But  rage  fucceeding,  arid  defpair,  he  rofe 
Eager  to  rufli  amid  the  tlrtckeft  foes. 
His  fpear  he  grafp'd,  impatient  for  the  fight ; 
And  pond'rous  fhield,  unequal  to  the  weight, 
tlim  frantic  thus,  his  wife  attendants  held  ; 
And  to  retire  with  prudent  care  compelled, 
I.npatient  of  his  ftate,  by  quick  returns, 
With  grief  he  melts,  with  indignation  burns. 
And  thus  at  laft  :  Stern  ruler  of  the  fky  ! 
Whofe  fport  is  man,  and  human  mifery; 
What  deed  of  mine  has  ftirr'd  thy  boundiefs  rage, 
And  call'd  for  vengeance  on  my  helplefs  age  ? 
Have,  I,  by  i'acrilege,  ysur  treafures  drain'd  ; 
Your  altars  flighted,  or  your  rites  profan'd  ? 
Did  I  forget  my  holy  vows  to  pay  ? 
Or  bid  you  witnefs,  and  my  faith  betray? 
Has  lawlefs  rapine  e'er  increas'd  my  ftore, 
Or,  unreliev'd,  the  ilranger  left  my  door  ?. 
[f  not;  in  juftice,  can  your  ftern  decree 
With  wrath  purlue  my  guiltlefs  race  and  me  ? 
tfere  valiant  Tydeus,  Polynices  fell ; 
'.n  one  fad  hour  they  trod  the  path  to  hell : 
ror  them  my  daughters  mourn,  their  forrows  flow 
Still  frefli,  and  all  their  days  are  fpent  in  woe. 
legialus  remain'd  my  hopes  to  raife  ; 
The  only  comfort  of  my  joylefs  days  : 
n  whom  I  faw  my  vigorous  youth  return, 
'Vnd  all  our  native  virtues  brighter  burn, 
ie's  now  no  more  ;  and  to  the  nether  fkies, 
Janifli'd  by  fate,  a  bloodlefs  fpeclre  flies, 
•'or  what,  ye  gods !  has  unrelenting  fate 
x'urs'd  my  misfortunes  with  fo  long  a  date  J 
i'hat  thus  I  live  to  fee  our  ancient  race     ' 
At  once  extinguifti'd,  and  for  ever  ceafe  ! 
'iods !   grant  me  now,  the  only  boon  I  cravev 
'or  all  my  forrows  pad,  a  peaceful  grave  : 
ow  let  me  perifh,  that  my  fleeting  ghoft 
Way  reach  my  fon  in  Pluto's  fliacty  coaft; 
Vhere,  join'd  for  ever,  kindred  fouls  enjoy 
n  union  fix'd,  which  nothing  can  deftroy. 
le  faid ;   and  finking  proftrate  on  the  ground, 
His    furrow'd    cheeks    with    floods    of    forrovr 

drown'd ; 

nd,  furious  in  the  rage  of  grief,  o'erfpread 
iVith,  dull  the  reverend  honours  of  his  head. 


EP1GONIAI),   BooKlII. 


BOOK    m. 


THE  Spartan  bands,  with  third  of  vengeance  fir'd, 
The  fight  maintain'd;  nor  from  their  toils  refpir'd. 
Before  the  hero  fall'n  the  warriors  (land, 
Firm  as  the  chains  of  rock  which  guard  the  ftrand ; 
Whofe.  rooted  ftrength  the  angry  ocean  braves, 
And  hounds  the  fury  of  his  burfting  waves. 
So  Sparta  flood ;  their  ferred  bucklers  bar 
The  Theban  phalanx,  and  exclude  the  war. 
While  from  the  field,  upon  their  (boulders  laid, 
His  warriors  fad  the  Argive  prince  convey'd ; 
Leophron  faw,  with  indignation  fir'd, 
And  with  his  (houts  the  ling'ring  war  infpir'd. 
Again  the  rigour  of  the  (hock  returns ; 
The  flaughter  rages,  and  the  combat  burns; 
Till,  pufli'd  and  yielding  to  fuperior  fway, 
In  flow  retreat  the  Spartan  ranks  give  way. 
As,  in  fome  channel  pent,  entangled  wood 
Reluctant  ftirs  before  the  angry  flood ; 
Which,  on  its  loaded  current,  (lowly  heaves 
The  fpoils  of  forefts  mix'd  with  harveft  (heaves. 
Pallas  obferv'd,  and  from  th'  Olympian  height 
Precipitated  iwift  her  downward  flight. 
Like  Cleon's  valiant  fon,  the  goddefs  came ; 
The  fame  her  ftature,  and  her  arms  the  fame. 
Defcending  from  his  chariot  to  the  ground, 
The  fon  of  Tydeus,  'midft  his  bands,  {he  found ; 
His  fteeds  unrul'd :  for,  ftretch'd  before  the  wheel, 
Lay  the  bold  driver  pierc'd  with  Theban  fleel. 
On  the  high  car  her  mighty  hand  (he  laid, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  the  valiant  Diomed  : 
The  Spartan  warriors,  prince !  renounce  (he  fight, 
O'ermatch'd  by  numbers  and  fuperior  might : 
While  adverfe  fate  their  valiant  <;hief  reftrains, 
Who  dead  or  wounded  with  the  foe  remains; 
Hegialus  lies  lifelefs  on  the  earth, 
Brother  to  her  from  whom  you  claim  your  birth. 
The  great  Atrides,  as  he  prefs'd  to  fave, 
Leophron's  jav'lin  mark'd  for  him  the  grave. 
To  vengeance  hafte ;  and,  ere  it  is  too  late, 
With  fpeedy  fuccour  flop  impending  fate  : 
For  ftern  Leophron,  like  the  rage  of  flame, 
With  ruin  threatens  all  the  Spartan  name. 
The  goddefs  thus :  Tydides  thus  replies  : 
How  partial  are  the  counfels  of  the  Ikies  ! 
For  vulgar  merit  oft  the  gods  with  care 
Honour,  and  peace,  and  happinefs  prepare ; 
While  worth,  diftinguifti'd  by  their  partial  hate, 
•Submits  to  ail  the  injuries  of  fate. 
Adraflus  thus  with  jufticc  may  complain 
His  daughters  widow'd,  Ions  in  battle  flain. 
In  the  devoted  line  myielf  I  fland, 
And  here  muft  perifh  by  fome  hoftile  hand: 
Yet  nqt  for  thU  I  fhun  the  works  of  war, 
Nor  (kulk  inglorious  when  1  ought  to  dare. 
And  now  I'll  meet  yon  terror  of  the  plain, 
To  crown  his  conquefb,  or  avenge  the  flain. 
But  wiih  fome  valiant  youth  to  rule  my  car, 
.And  pufh  the  horfes  through  the  (hock  of  war, 
Wvre      efent ;  fo  ,  extended  in  his  gore, 
The  ;:av^SpVi-fippu8  knows  hie  charge  no  mor«. 
VOL.  X'- 


Thus  as  the  hero  fpoke,  Caflandra  heard. 
And  prefent,  to  affumc  the  charge,  appear'd, 
3y  love  infpir'd,  flie  fought  the  fields  of  war; 
rler  hero's  fafe-y  was  her  only  care. 
A  polifti'd  caique  her  lovely  temples  bound, 
With  flowers  of  gold  and  various  plumage  crown'dj 
oonfus'dly  gay  the  peacock's  changeful  train, 
With  gaudy  colours  mijr'd  of  ev'ry  grain  : 
The  virgin  white,  the  yellow's  golden  hue, 
The  regal  purple,  and  the  fliiningblue, 
With  female  {kill  compos'd.    The  fhield  flic  bore 
With  flow'rs  of  gold  was  mark'd  and  fpanglcd 

o'er: 

Light  and  of  flend'reft  make,  (he  held  a  laoncc ; 
Like  fome  mock  warrior  armed  for  the  dance, 
When  fpring's  return  and  muiic's  cheerful  ftrain 
The  youth  invite  to  frolic'on  the  plain. 

Illuftrious  chief,  the  armed  virgin  faid, 
To  rule  your  ftecds  on  me  the  taflc  be  laid ; 
Skill'd  to  direct  their  courfe  with  fteudy  rein, 
To  wake  their  fiery  mettle,  or  reftrain ; 
To  flop,  to  turn,  the  various  arts  1  know ; 
To  pufli  them  on  direct,  or  ftiun  the  foe. 
With  ready  hand  your  voice  1  ihall  obey, 
And  urge-^their  fury  where  you  point  the  way. 
The  virgin  thus :  and  thu»  Tydides  faid : 
Your  zeal  I  honour,  but  reject  your  aid. 
Fierce  are  my  ftceds ;  their  fury  to  reftrain 
The  ftrongeft  hand  requires,  and  ftifll-ft  rein  : 
For  oft,  their  mettk  rous'd,  they  rufti  along; 
Nor  feel  the  biting  curb,  or  founding  thong. 
Oft  have  I  feen  you  brave  the  toils  of  fight, 
Wijh  dauntlefs  CO',  rage,  but  unequal  might. 
Small  is  your  force;  and,  from  your  arm  unftrun^, 
The  harmlefs  launce  is  impo-ently  flung. 
Yet  not  for  this  you  ftiun  the  martial  ftrifc, 
Patient  of  wounds,  and  prodigal  of  life. 
Where'er  I  combat,  faithful  to  my  fide, 
No  danger  awes  you,  and  no  toils  divide. 
Yet  grudge  not  that  yourfervice  I  decline? 
Homocleon's  better  hand  fhall  guide  the  rein; 
His  manly  voice  my  horfes  will  obey, 
And  move  fubmiflivc  to  hi$  firmer  (way. 

Th'  JEtolian  warrior  Hius ;  and,  with  a  bound, 
P. of;  to  his  lofty  chariot  from  the  ground. 
The  goddefs  to  the  driver's  tot  proceeds, 
Affumes  the  reins,  and  windi   he  willing  fteeds. 
On  their  imooth  fides  the  founding  lafh  (he  plie«, 
And  through  the  fight  the  fmoking  chariot  llie». 
Th' Athenians  foon   they  pMs'd;   and  Phocun* 

(Irong, 

Who  from  fair  Crifia  led  their  martial  thrcng. 
Th'  Arcadians  next,  from  Alpheus'  lilver  flood, 
And  hardy  Eleans,  grim  with  dul>  and  blood, 
In  order  rang'd.    As  when  fonu-  pilot  fpies 
The  rocky  cliffs  in  long  fucceffion  rife, 
When  near  the  land  his  galley  fcows  the  (hores, 
By  profp'rous  winds  impell'd  and  receding  oars; 
So,  haftening  to  the  fight,  the  hero  flew ; 
And  now  the  Spartan  hoft  appear*  in  view; 


WORKS   OF 


By  wounds  fubdu'd,  their  braveft  warriors  lay ; 

Others,  by  fhameful  flight,  their  fear  obey; 

The  reft  in  flow  retreat  forfake  the  field, 

O'ermatch'd  by  numbers,  and  conftrain'd  to  yield. 

Th'  ./Etolian  hero  faw,  and  rais'd  his  voice, 

Loud  as  the  filver  trumpet's  martial  noife, 

And  rnfh'd  to  fight:  through  all  the  field  it  flew; 

The  hoft  at  once  the  happy  fignal  knew, 

And  joy'd,  as  they  who,  from  the  found'ring  fliip 

Efcap'd,  had  ftruggled  long  amid  the  deep  : 

Faint  from  defpair,  when  hope  and  vigour  fail, 

If,  hafl'ning  to  their  aid,  appears  a  fail ; 

With  force  renew'd  their  weary  limbs  they  ftrain, 

And  climb  the  flipp'ry  ridges  of  the  main. 

So  joy'd  the  Spartans  to  repulfe  the  foe  ; 

With  hope  reflor'd  their  gen'rous  bofoms  glow : 

While   Thebes,   fufpended   'midfl   her   conqneft, 

{lands, 
And  feels  a  fudden  check  through  all  her  bands 

Leophron  only,  far  before  the  reft, 
Tydides  waited  with  a  dauntlefs  breaft. 
Firm  and  unaw'd  the  hardy  warrior  flood, 
Like  fome  fierce  boar  amid  his  native  wood, 
"When  aimed  fwains  his  gloomy  haunts  invade, 
And  trace  his  footfteps>through  the  lonely  fhade; 
Refoiv'd  he  h^ars  approach  the  hoftile  found, 
Grinds  his  \vhite  teeth,   and  threat'ning   glare* 

around ; 

So  flood  L->ophron,  trufling  in  his  might, 
And  (book  his  armour,  eager  for  the  fight. 
Tydides  faw;  and,  fpringing  fromjiis  car, 
Thus  brav'd  the  hero,  as  he  rufh'd  to  war : 
O  fon  unhappy,  of  a  fire  accurfl ! 
The  plague  of  all,  and  fated  to  the  worfl ! 
The  injuries  of  Greece  demand  thy  breath; 
See  in  my  hand  the  inftrument  of  death. 
Hegialus's  ghofl  fhall  lefs  deplore 
His  fate  untimely  on  the  Stygian  fliore,         [come 
When  banifh'd  from  the  light,  your  fhade  lhall 
To  mingle  with  the  dark  infernal  gloom. 
Tydides  thus :  and  Creon's  fon  replies : 
Your  fear  in  yain  by  boafting  you  difguife  ; 
Such  vulgar  art  a  novice  oft  confounds, 
To  fcenes  of  battle  new  and  martial  founds ; 
Though  loft  on  me,  who  dwell  amid  alarms, 
And  never  met  a  greater  yet  in  arms. 

Thus  as  the  warrior  fpoke,  his  launce  with  care 
He  aim'd,  and  fent  it  biffing  through  the  air. 
On  Diomed's  broad  fhield  the  weapon  fell ; 
Loud  rung  the  ftunning  brafs  with  echoing  knell : 
But  the  ftrong  orb,  by  Vulcan's  labour  bound,' 
Repell'd,  and  fent  it  blunted  to  the  ground. 
Tydides  next  his  pond'rous  jav'lin  threw  : 
With  force  impell'd,  it  brighten'd  as  it  flew ; 
And  pierc'd  the' border  of  theTheban  fhield, 
Where,  wreath'd  around,  a  ferpent  guards  the 

field ; 

Through  the  clofe  mail  an  eafy  paflage  found, 
And  mark'd  his  thigh,  in  pafiing,  with  a  wound. 
Now  in  clofe  fight  the  angry  chiefs  engage, 
Like  two  fell  griffins  rous'd  to  equal  rage ; 
Pois'd  on  their  rolling  trains  they  fiercely  rife 
With  blood-befpotted  crefts  and  burning  eyes  : 
With  poifon  fraught  they  aim  their  deadly  flings, 
Clafp   their  fharp  fangs,  and  mix   their  rattling 

wings. 

In  combat  thu?,  the  ardent  warriors  clos'd, 
(  With  ftield  to  fhield,  and  foot  to  foot 


Firft  at  his  fos  Leophron  aim'd  a  ffroke, 

But  on  his  polifh'd  cafque  the  faulchion  broke : 

From  the  fmooth  fteel  the  fhiver'd  weapon  fprurrj , 

Aloft  in  air  its  biffing  fplinters  fung. 

Not  fo,  Tydides,  did  thy  weapon  fail ; 

With  force  impell'd,  it  pierc'd  the  filver  mail, 

Whofe  Hiding  plates  the  warrior's  neck  fnrround: 

A  tide  of  gore  came  rufhing  from  the  wound. 

Stagg'ring  to  earth,  he  funk  with  head  •'ieclin'd,  • 

And  life  in  long  convulfive  throbs  reii;;i-'d. 

Nor  floop'd  Tydides  to  defpoil  the  flam  ; 

The  warrior  goddefs  led  him,  crofs  the  plain, 

Towards  the  grove  where  great  Atrides  lay  ; 

Th'  immortal  fpear  fhe  ftretch'd,  and  mark'd  the 

way. 

Thither  amid  furrounding  foes  they  hafle, 
Who  fbunn'd  them,  ftill  retreating  as  they  pafs'd  ; 
And  ent'ring  found  the  Spartan  htro  laid 
On  the  green  fward,  beneath  the  bnw'nng  fhade. 
The  guard  fecure,  lay  ftretch'd  upon  the, ground; 
Their  fhields  refign'd,  their  launcespitch'd around: 
One  only  near  a  winding  riv'lec  Rood, 
Which  turn'd  its  wand'ring  current  through  thc- 

wood ; 

His  helmet  fill'd  with  both  his  hands  he  rear'd, 
In  act  to  drink,  when  in  the  grove  appear'd 
Th'  Etolian  prince.    His  armour's  fiery  blaze 
';  he  dark  recefs  illumin'd  with  its  rays. 
Amaz'd  the  Theban  flood  ;  and  from  his  hand 
The  helmet  flipp'd,  and  roll'd  upon  the  fand. 
Not  more  afraid  the  wond'ring  fwain  defcries 
'Midfl  night's  thick  gloom  a  flaming  meteor  rife  ; 
Sent  by  the  furies,  as  he  deems,  to  fow 
Death  and  difeafes  on  the  earth  below. 
Tydides  comes  !  with  fault'ring  voice  he  cry'd, 
And  ftraight  to  flight  his  willing  limbs  apply'd. 
With  fudden  dread  furpris'd  the  guards  retire, 
As  fhepherd  fwains  avoid  a  lion's  ire, 
Who  roams  the  heights  and  plains,  from  famine 
The  flail  to  ravage,  or  affault  the  fold.  [bold, 

Now,  lifelefs  as  he  lay,  the  martial  maid 
Atrides  with  a  pitying  eye  furvey'd ; 
And  with  her  fpear  revers'd,  the  hero  fhcok  : 
The  touch  divine  his  iron  {lumber  broke  ; 
As  when  his  drowfy  mate  the  fhepherd  fwain 
St^rs  with  his  crook,  and  calls  him  to  the  plain; 
When  in  the  eafl  he  fees  the  morning  rife, 
And  redd'ning  o'er  his  head  the  colour'd  fides. 
When  from  the  ground  his  head  the  hero  rais'd, 
In  full  divinity  the  goddefs  blaz'd; 
Her  left,  reveal'd,  the  dreadful  TEgis  rears, 
Whofe  ample  field  the  fnaky  Gorgon  bears; 
Th'  immortal  launce  flood  flaming  in  the  right, 
Which  fcatters  and  confounds  the  ranks  of  fight. 
Speechlefs  the  chiefs  remain' d;  amazement  f iron j, 
In  mute  fufpenfe  and  filence,  held  them  long. 
And  thus  the  goddefs :  Atteus'  fon  !  arifc, 
Confefs  the  partial  favour  of  the  fkies. 
For  thee  I  leave  the  thund'rer's  lofty  feat, 
To  v/akc  the  flumb'ring  on  the  verge  of  fate : 
To  you  let  Diomed  his  arms  refign ; 
Unequal  were  your  force  to  govern  mine  : 
His  flronger  arm  fhall  bear  this  pond'rous  fhield, 
His  better  hand  the  weighty  jav'lin  wield. 
Arife !  be  fudden,  for  your  foes  draw  near ; 
Affur'd  to  conquer  when  the  gods  appear. 

The  goddefs  ihus;  and,  mixing  with  the  win«l, 
Left  in  a  heap  her  fhining  arms  behind 


E  P I G  0  N I  ; 

Upon  the  fieid ;  with  lond  harmonious  peal, 
Th'  immortal  buckler  rung,  and  golden  mail. 
And  Thus  Atrirfe.'j  riling  from  the  ground  : 
In  this,  approv'd  is  hoar  tradition  found  ; 
That  oft,  defcending  from  th'  ethereal  tow'rs, 
To  mix  with  mortals,  come  the  htav'nly  pow'rs : 
But  ne'er  till  now  I  I'aw  a  god  appear, 
Ot  more  than  human  voice  did  ever  hear. 
Do  you,  my  friend,  aflume  thefe  arms  divine  ; 
The  mortal  and  inferior  fhall  be  mine. 
Atrides  thus ;  and  Diomed  reply'd  : 
To  heav'n  obedience  muft  not  be  dcny'd  ; 
Elfe  you  yourfelf  th'  immortal  arms  fliould  wield, 
And  I  xvith  thefe  attend  you  on  the  field. 
But  of  the  pow'rs  above,  whole  fov'reign  fway 
The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey, 
Pallas,  with  fureft  vengeance  (till  purfues 
Such  as  obedience  to  her  will  refute. 

He  faid,  and  (traight  hisfhining  arms  unbound, 
The  cafque,  the  mail,  the  buckler's  weighty  round ; 
With  fecret  joy  th'  immortal  helmet  took:       9 
High  on  its  creft  the  waving  plumage  (hook. 
This  whofoever  wears,  hislharp'ned  eyes 
All  dangers  mock  of  ambufh.  and  furprife  ; 
Their  ray  unquench'd,  the  midnight  (hade  divides: 
No  cunning  covers,  and  no  darknefs  hides. 
The  breaft-plate  next  he  takes,  whole  matchiefs 
Firm  courage  fixes  in  the  bounding  heart ;        [art 
The  rage  of  war,  unmov'd,  the  wearer  braves, 
And  rides  fereuc  amid  the  ftormy  waves ! 
The  glitt'ring  mail  a  ftarry  baldric  bound, 
His  arm  fuftain'd  the  buckler's  weighty  round  ; 
Impenetrably  ftrong,  its  orb  can  bear 
And  turn,  like  fofteli  lead,  the  pointed  fpear  ; 
Nor  yields  to  aught,  in  earth  or  heav'n  above, 
But  the  dread  thunder  of  almighty  Jove. 
Th'  immortal  fpear  the  hero  laft  did  wield, 
Which  fixes  conqueft,  and  decides  a  field  ; 
Nor  ftrength  nor  numbers  can  its  rage  withftand,. 
Sent  by  a  mortal  or  immortal  hand. 

Thus  arm'd  to  meet  the  foe  Tydides  mov'd, 
And  glory'd,  confcious  of  his  might  improv'd  ; 
Like  the  proud  deed  rejoicing  in  his  force, 
When  the  (brill  trumpet  wakes  him  to  the  courfe  :' 
Fierce  and  impatient  of  refiraint,  he  drains 
With  ftiffen'd  neck  againft  the  galling  reins. 
Taller  he  feem'd  ;  as  when  the  morning,  (pi  cad 
With  golden  luftre,  crowns  fome  mountain's  head 
In  early  fpring  j  xvhen,  from  the  meads  below, 
A  wreath  of  vapours  binds  his  rocky  brow  ; 
In  cloudy  volumes  fettling  as  they  rife> 
They  lift  the  lofty  prufpecr,  to  the  Ikies. 
So  in  immortal  arms  the  chief  appear'd, 
His  ftature  broad  difplay'd,  and  higher  rear'd. 

Now  from  the  field  approaching  to  the  grove, 
Embattel'd  thick,  the  Theban  warriors  move ; 
Slowly  they  move,  as  fwains  with  doubtful  fteps 
Approach  the  thicket  where  a  lion  fi'eeps. 
Tydides  faw  ;  and,  ruining  from  the  (hade, 
The  Spartan  call'd,  and  to  the  combat  led. 
Unaw'd  the  hero  met  the  hoftile  band ; 
Nor  could  united  force  his  rage  withftand. 
They  wheel'd  aloof;  as  when  a  dragon  fprijigs 
From  his  dark  den,  and  rears  his  pointed  wings 
Againft  approaching  fwains,  when  Cummer  burns, 
And  the  frefh  lakes  to  parched  defert  turns; 
They  fly  difpers'd,  nor  tempt  his  fatal  ire, 
Jiis  wrath-iwoki  neck  and  eyes  of  living  6re : 


Dj  BOOK  III.  x      ' 

So  fled  the  Thebans,  nor  efcap'd  by  flight. 
Amid  their  fquadron;,  like  a  faulcon  ifght, 
The  hero  fprung;  who,  (looping  from  the  fkics, 
The  ieather'd  race  diipcrtl";  as  he  flits. 
Still  from  his  hand  th' immortal  weapon  flew; 
And  ev'ry  flight  an  armed  waaior  flow. 
Andremon  h'rfr,  beneath  his  mighty  hnnd, 
Of  life  bereft,  lay  ftietch'd  upon  the  land! 
Pherecydes  gigantic  prrfs'd  the  plain  ; 
And  valiant  Tereus  funk  amid  the  fla'n. 
\Varriors  to  thofe  of  vulgar  names  fucceed  ; 
And  all  his  path  is  mark'd  with  heaps  of  dead. 
As  when  fome  woodman,  by  inceliant  llrokes, 
Beftrews  a  mountain  with  its  falling  oaks; 
Fells  the   thick  plains,    the   hawthorn's 'ilow'ry 

(hade. 

The  poplar  fair  by  paflmg  currents  fed, 
The  laurel  with  unlading  verdure  crown'd  ; 
Heaps  rdll'd  on  heaps,  the  forett  finks  around: 
So  fpreads  the  flaughter,  as  the  chief  proceeds; 
At  every  itroke  an  armed  warrior  bleeds 
Atrides  combats  by  the  hero's  fide, 
To  (hare  his  glory,  and  the  toil  divide: 
Unmov'd  amid  the  hoftile  ranks  they  go; 
Before  them  far  retreats  the  routed  foe. 

And  now  the  Spartan  hoft  appear'd  in  fight, 
By  toil  fubdu'd,  and  ling'ring  m  the  right. 
Their  Valiant  leader  law,  and  rais'd  his  voice, 
Loud  as  the  filver  trumpet's  martial  noife, 
With  hopes  of  victory  his  bands  to  cheer; 
It  fwiftiy  flew  :  the  diltant  Spartans  hear 
With  glad  1'urj.Tifc.  PolyCtes  thus  nddrett, 
And  rous'd  the  languid  valour  of  the  reih 
Mycenean* !  Spartans '.  taught  to  feek  renown 
From  dangers  greatly  brav'd,  and  battles  won; 
With  forrow  and  regret  I  fee  you  yield, 
And  Thebes  victorious  drive  you  froiu  the  field. 
Atrides  calls  us ;  to  his  aid  repair  : 
No  foe  iubdues  you  but  your  own  defpair. 
He  yet  furvives,  befct  wj,th  hortile  bands, 
And,  from  your  valour,  prefent  aid  demands. 
He  faid.  The  rigour  of  the  (hock  returns  ; 
The  flaughter  rages,  and  the  combat  burns. 
As  when  a  reaping  train  their  fickles  wield. 
Where  yellow  harveil  loads  fome  fruitful  field; 
The  mafter's  heart,  with  k-cret  joy,  6'trflows; 
He  prompts  the  work,  and  counts  the  length'ninj 

rows; 

So  'mid-ft  the  war,  th«  pow'r  of  battles  flood, x 
fleas'cf  with  the  carnage  and  the  llreamsof  blood. 

Jilpenor  firit  lay  lifelefs  on  the  j)l;iin, 
By  (tern  Plexippus  with  a  jav'Hn  (lain, 
A  grief  to  Thebes.     Euryalus  ;he  bold, 
Rich  in  his  flocks,  and  rich  in  (urns  of  gold, 
Beneath  the  arm  of  Ariftseus  fell; 
Loud  rung  his  fiiver  arms  with  echoing  knell : 
And  like  tb.Tie  flow'r,  whofe  painted  foliage  fair 
With  fragrant  breath- perfumes  the  veraal  air, 
If  the  rude  fcythe  its  tender  root  invades, 
It  falls  difhonour'd,  and  its  lullre  fades. 
Thus  fell  Euryalus;  whofe  matchiefs  grace, 
In  youth's  full  bloom,  furpalVd  the  human  race; 
For  Cynthius  only  could  with  him  compare, 
In  comely  features,  fhape,  and  flowing  hair. 

Now  o'er  the  fields  the  rage  of  war  is  fprra(f; 
And  heaps  on  heaps  afcend  the  hills  of  dead. 
Ranks  meeting  ranks  oppofe  with  equal  ragf. : 
As  when  the  north  and  ftormy  fouth  ecgag^ 


THE   WORKS   OF  WILK1E. 


Beneath  their  ftrife  the  troubled  ocean  roars ; 
And  ruihing;  waves  o'ervvhelm  the  rocky  fhores ; 
So  rat'd  the  fight ;  when  burfting  from  a  crowd 
Of  thick  opponng  foes  the  princes  ftood 
Between  the  holts.  And  thus  th'  JEtolian  lord  : 
Spartans !  behold  yoilr  valiant  chief  reftor'd  ; 
Ye  owt  his  fafety  to  Minerva's  care  ; 
Let  hecatombs  your  gratitude  declare, 
Soon   as  from   Thebes  you   reach    your   native 

ground, 

Where  flocks  and  herds  for  facrifice  abound  ; 
Now  fight  and  conquer,   let  this  fi«nal  day 
Your  tedious  roils,  with  viclorj  repay  ; 
And,  for  Hegialus,  let  thoufands  dead 
With  ample  vengeance  gratify  his  fhade. 
As  thus  the  hero  ("poke,  the  w.irriors  heard. 
And  hope  rekindling  through  the  hoft  appear'd  ; 
With  joyful  fhouts  they  rent  the  trembling  air, 
And  bleiVd  the  gods,  and  own'd  Minerva's  care. 

Now,  tow'ring  in  the  midft,  Atrides  flood, 
And-call'd  his  warriors  to  the  fight  aloud  ; 
As  mariners  with  joy  the  fun  deicry, 
Attending,  in  his  courl'e,  the  eaftern  iky  ; 
Who,  all  night  long,  by  angry  tempefts  toft, 
Shunn'd  with  inceffant  toil  fome  faithlefs  coaft  ; 
So  to  his  wifliing  friends  Atrides  came; 
Their  danger  fuch  before,  their  joy  the  fame. 
Again  the  rigour  of  the  fhovk  returns ; 
The  daughter  rages,  and  the  comat  burns  ; 
With  thirft  of  vengeance  ev'iy  bofom  glows. 
Tydides  leads,  and  rufhes  on  his  foes; 
Around  his  head  a  ray  of  lightning  (hone 
From  the  fmooth  helmet  and  the  glitt'ring-  cone  ; 
Like  that  by  night  which  ftreams  with  fiery  glare, 
When  fome  red  meteor  glides  along  the  air, 
Sent  by  the  rngrygods,  with  tainted  breath, 
To' Cow  the  feeds  of  peltilence  and  death  : 
From  look  to  look  infectious  terror  fpreads  ; 
And    ev'ry    wretch    th'    impending    vengeance 

dreads. 

Before  the  chief  the  Theban  bands  retire, 
As  fhepherd  fwains  avoid  the  lion's  ire. 
Clytander  only,  by  the  fates  impell'd, 
Oppos'd  him  fingle,  and  difdain'd  to  yield  ; 
Lycaon's  fon  ;  deceiv'd  by  glory's  charms, 
Superior  might  be  brav'd  and  matchlels  arms. 
Nor  was  his  brother  prefent  by  his  tide, 
To  fhare  the  danger,  and  the  toil  divide ; 
T-Ihnfelf  a  youth,  and  yet  by  time  unlteePd, 
Single,  he  met  Tydides  in  the  field. 
Againft  th'  immortal  fliield  his  lance  he  flung, 
Whofe  hollow  6rb  With deaf'nmg  clangour  rung: 
The  tow'rs  of  Thebes  re-echo'd  to  the  found  ; 
The  fpe?r  rt-jAils'd,  ;ell  blunted  on  the  ground. 
Tydides  nejrt  th'  immortal  jav'lm  threw  ; 
"With  force  impell'd,  it  brighten'd  as  it  flew  : 
And  pierc'd  the  Theban  helmet  to  the  cone ; 
Behind  his  ear  the  ftarting  weapon  (hone. 
Supine  the  warrior  fell,  fcis  fpirit  fled, 
'And  mix'd  v.-ith  heroes  in  th'Ehfian  fhade. 
To  Ipoil  the  ila;n  the  ardent  victor  flew  : 
Firfr  from  the  wound  the  fixed  lance  he  drew, 
The  helmet  loos'd,  thf  coftly  mail  unbound, 
Arjd  fhining  Hi i eld  with  fculptor'd  figures  crown'd. 
Thefe  fjjoils  the  hero,  in  his  grateful  mind, 
A  prefent  for  the  gen'rous  youth  defign'd  ; 
Who  (till  in  perilous  battle  fought  his  fide, 
And  proffer'u  late  his  warlike  Iteeds  t»  guide. 


Fatal  the  gift,  the  caufe  of  future  woe  '. 
But  good  and  ill  th'  immortals  only  know. 
The  armour  to  a  vulgar  hand  confign'd, 
Again  the  hero,  fwifter  than  the  wind, 
To  combat  rufli'd. 

But,  from  his  throne  above 
Declin'd,  the  all-furveying  eye  of  Jove 
His  progrefs  mark'd.  The  herald  pow'r,  who 

brings 

His  fov^reign  mandates  on  immortal  wings, 
He  thus  addrefs'd  :  To  yonder  fphere  defcend ; 
Bid  Phoebus  ftraight  his  ev'ning  charge  attend  : 
For   with  reverted  eye,  he  views  the  war, 
And  checks  the  progrefs  of  his  downward  car. 
Let  him  not  linger  in  th'  ethereal  way, 
ButlaQi  his  ftecds,  and  Itraight  conclude  the  day; 
For,  if  the  gods  defcend  not  to  her  aid, 
Or  ev'ning  interpofe  with  friendly,  (hade, 
Thebes  now  mull  perifli;   and  the  doom  of  fate, 
Anticipated,  have  an  earlier  date 
Than  fate  ordains ;  for,  like  devouring  flame, 
Tydides  threatens  all  the  Theban  name  ; 
Immortal  arms  his  native  force  improve, 
Conferr'd  by  Pallas,  partial  in  her  love. 
Thefe  to  retrieve  muft  be  your  next  eflay  ; 
Win  them  by  art,  and  hither  ftraight  convey : 
For  man  with  man  an  equal  war  (hall  wage  : 
Nor  with  immortal  weapons  arm  his  rage. 

He  faid.  And  Maia's  fon,  with  fpeed,  addreft 
His  flight  to  Phcebus  hov'ring  in  the  weft. 
Upon  a  cloud  his  winged  feet  he  ftay'd  ; 
And  thus  the  mandates  of  his  (ire  convey'd. 
Ruler  of  light  I  Jet  now  thy  car  defcend, 
And  filent  night  her  peaceful  fhade  extend, 
Elle  Thebes  muft  perifli ;  and  the  doom  of  fate, 
Anticipated,  have  an  earlier  date 
Than  fate  decrees  ;  for,  like  devouring  flame, 
Tydides  threatens  all  the  Theban  name  ; 
Immortal  arms  his  native  force  improve, 
Conferr'd  by  Pallas,  partial  in  her  love. 

The  fon  of  Maia  thus.  The  god  obey'd ; 
The  founding  la(h  upon  his  fteeds  he  laid. 
Swift  to  the  goal  with  winged  feet  they  flew  ; 
The  night  afcending  as  the  day  withdrew. 

To  Thebes  the  herald  next  purfu'd  his  way; 
Shot  like  a  meteor  with  the  fetting  ray. 
Behind  Tydides  in  the  fight  he  ftay'd  ; 
And  on  his  head  the  potent  fceptre  laid  : 
Whofe  magic  pow'r  on  waking  fenfe  prevails ; 
Or,  in  profourideft  deep,  the  eye  unfeals ; 
The  ft  niggling  ghoft  unbinds  from  mortal  clay. 
And  drives  it  down  the  dark  Tartarean  way. 
Subdu'd  the  hero  ftood  by  pow'rful  charms, 
Till  Hermes  (Iript  him  of  th' immortal  arms; 
And,  mounting  to  the  ftarry  roofs  above, 
Difpos'd  them  in  the  armory  of  Jove. 
And,  recollected,  thus  Tydides  fpoke  : 
Whate'er  they  give,  th' immortals  may  revoke. 
I  own  their  favour  ;  that,  of  mortal  line 
The  firft,  I  woie  a  panoply  divine. 
But  if  the  day  were  lengthen'd  to  my  will, 
With  light  to-point  my  jav'lin  where  to  kill, 
Thebes  now  (houkl  perifli;  but  the  morning  ray 
Shall  finifli  what  the  ev'ning  (hades  delay. 

And  now  the  night  begati  her  iilent  reign  ; 
Afcending,  from  the  deep,  th' ethereal  plain, 
O'er  both  the  hods  (lie  ftretch'd  her  ample  fliade, 
Their  conflict  to  fufpend :  the  hofts  obey'd. 


•    EPIGONIAD,    BOOK  IIT. 
The  field  no  more  a  noify  fcene  appears, 
With  fteeds  and  chariots  throng'J  and  giitt'rino- 

fpears ; 

But  ftill,  and  filent :  like  the  hoary  deep, 
When,  in  their  caves,  the  angry  tempefts  fleep, 


Peaceful  and  fmooth  it  fpreads  from  Ihore  to 
fhore. 


Where  ftonns  had  rag'd  and  billows  (\ve!!'d  before  : 
Such  feetn'J  the  field;  the  martial  clangors  ccaic- 
And  war  tumultuous  lulls  itfelf  to  peace. 


BOOK    IV. 


.A.KD  now  the  princes  of  the  Theban  ftate 
In  council  fat  affembled  in  the  gate, 
Where  rows  of  marble  pillars  bound  the  fpace, 
To  judgment  facred  in  the  days  of  peace. 
And  Creon  thus,  with  public  c?re  opprefs'd 
And  private  griefs  the  fenators  addrefs'd  : 

Princes  of  Thebes,  and  valiant  aids  from  far, 
Our  firm  aflbciates  in  the  works  of  war, 
Heroes,  attend  !  I  fhall  not  now  propofe 
To  fupplicate  for  peace,  our  haughty  foes: 
No  peace  can  grow,  no  friendfhip  e'er  be  found, 
When  mutual  hate  has  torn  fo  wide  a  wound. 
Yet  for  a  truce  of  feven  days  fpace  1  plead, 
'.     And  fun'ral  obfequies  to  grace  the  dead. 
Nor  were  it  juft,  that  they,  who  greatly  fall 
From  rage  of  foes  to  guard  their  native  wall, 
Should  want  the  honours  which  their  merits  claim, 
Sepulchral  rites  deny'd  and  fun'ral  flame. 

Thus  as  he  fpoke,  parental  grief  fuppreft 
His  voice,  and  fwell'd  within  his  lab'ring  bread. 
Siltnt  amid  the  afTembled  peers  he  ftands  ; 
And  wipes  his  falling  rears  with  trembling  hands; 
For  great  Leophron-  once  his  country's  boaft, 
The  glory  and  the  bulwark  of  her  hoft, 
Pierc'd.by  a  foe  and  lifelefs  on  the  plain, 
Laydrench'd  in  gore  and  mix'd  with  vulgar  flain: 
Silent  hettood;  the  Theban  lords  around 
His  grief  partake,  in  ftreams  of  forrow  drOwn'd  ; 
Till  fage  Palantes  rofe,  and  to  the  reft. 
The  monarch  fecondirtg,  his  words  addreft. 

Princes  !  renown'd  lor  w idiom  and  for  might, 
Rever'd  in  council,  and  approv'd  in  fight ; 
What  Creon  moves  the  laws  themfelves  require, 
With  obfequies  to  grace,  and  funeral  fire, 
Each  warrior,  who  in  battle  bravely  falls 
,.,    From  rage  of  foes  to  guard  his  native  walls. 
If  all  approve,  and  none  will  fiire  withftand 
,  What  Creon  counfels  and  the  laws  command, 
Charg'd  with  the  truce,  Apollo's  prieft:  fhall  go 
To  offer  and  conclude  it  with  the  foe. 
His  filver  hairs  a  mild  refpecl  may  claim, 
And  j,'reat  Apollo's  ever  honour'd  name. 

The  reft  afleht.     The  venerable  man, 
Slow  from  his  feat  arifing,  thus  began  :         [hand 
Princes  of  Thebes !    and   thou,  whofe   fov'reign 
Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fupreme  command; 
Though  well  I  might  this  perilous  talk  refufe, 
And  plead  my  feeble  age  a  jult  excufe; 
Yet  nothing  (hall  reftraiu  mf-,  f  r  I  go, 
Pleas'd  w  ith  the  pious  charge,  to  meet  the  foe. 
Willing  I  go;  our  bleeding  warrior^  claim 
Sepulchral  honours  arid  the  fun'ral  flame. 
If  all    approve,  let  Ciytophon  attend  ; 
With  juft   fuccefs  our  labours  thus  fliall  end : 


For  fare  no  Theban  boafts  an  equal  (kill. 
With  pleating  words  to  bend  the  fixed  will. 

Sooth'd  with  the  friendlv  praife.  ihe  hero  faid, 
No  felt-regard  fh;-.!!  hold  me  or  diiViiade  ; 
The  pious  charge  my  inmolt  thoughts  approve, 
He  faid  ;  and  (low  through  yielding  crowds  they 

move ; 

While  Thebes  on  every  fide  aflembler!  ftands, 
And  fupplicatcs  the  gods  with  lilted  hands  : 
O  grant  that  wrathful  enemies  may  fpare 
Thele  rev'rend  heads,  nor  wrong  the  til ver  hair! 

And  now  they  pafs'd  the  lofty  gates,  and  came 
Where  flow  Ii'menus  winds  his  gentle  ftream  ; 
Amphion's   grove   they    pak'd,    whole   umbrage 
>  'is  rural  tomb  defends  on  every  fide!  [wide 

The  fcene  or'  fi^ht  they  re:ich'd,  and  fpacious  fields 
With  mangled  daughter  heap'd,  and  fpears  and 

fhiehis. 

Under  their  feet  the  hollow  bucklers  fount! ; 
\nd  fplmter'd  fiulchionsglitter'd  ,n  the  mourn1. 
And  now  the  ftations  of  the  camp  appear, 
Far  as  a  (haft  can  wound  the  flying  deer.  r 
Thither,  amid  the  wrecks  of  war,  they  go 
With  Client  fteps,  and  'fcape  the  watchful  foe. 
Now  full  in  vie\v  before  the  gu.irds  they  Hand  ; 
The  prieft  ditplayshisenfigns  in  his  hand, 
The  laurel  wreath,  the  gold-bef;>angled  rod 
With  ftars  adorn'd  the  fymbols  of  his  god. 

He  thus  began  :  ye  Argive  warriors!    hear: 
A  peaceful1  meffage  to  your  tents  we  bear : 
A  truce  is  aflt'd,  till  the  revolving  fun, 
Seven  times  from  eaft  to  weft  his  journey  run, 
Again  afcends  ;  ai;d,  from  the  ocean's  Streams, 
Crowns  the  green  mountains  with  his  golden  beams: 
Tn.it  mutually  fecure,  with  pious  care, 
Both  holts  funereal  honours  may  prepare 
For  every  hf  ro,  wh'>m  the  raging  fight 
Has  Iwept  to  darkne  s  a:,d  fie  mores  of  night. 

Thus  as  he  fi>oke,  the  liu'ning  warriur>  heard 
With  approbation,  and  the  prieft  rever'd, 
The  chief  of  Salamis,  their  leader,  went 
Himielf  to  guide  them  to  the  royal  tent ;     [n:ght 
Which  fhone  confpicuous  ;  through  the  lhades  of 
Its  fpacious  portal  pour'd  a  ftream  of  light. 
I'hither  conducted  by  the  chief  they  found 
The  king  of  men  with  all  1m  peers  around. 
On  thrones  with  purple  fpread  each  roval  guefl 
In  order  fat,  and  fhar'd  the  genial  feaft. 
Sile"t  they  enter'd.     From  his  chair  of  ftate, 
Full  in  the  midtl  oppofed  to  the  eate. 
The  monarch  faw;   and  rifing  thus  eiprefl 
The  gen'rous  dictates  of  his  rjyai  breaft. 

My  g:iefts  a.iDroach  !  no  enemy  i%  near  ; 
This  roof  protects  you,  ftraight  forget  your  fear, 


*   WORKS   OP  WILK.IE. 


come, 


E--'n  though  from  vnn  ; 

Fb.- vengf  a  .  .     >y  Ut°*-  eternal  doom. 

Here  in  my  t -•-.:,  with  fafety  TOD  thai!  reft. 
And  with  the  princes  fhare  the  genial  feaft. 
You  freely  th?i  ynur  mrrSaje  may  propofe. 
Wh-.n  round  the  board  the  cheering  vinti^-e Sows, 
"Whirls  foothes  impatience,  and  the  cpeiTid  ear, 
.•'•.TOUT  and  attention  bends  to  hear. 

I*he  hero  thu  .     Apoilo'a  >rief;  replies : 
Humane  thy  man~.er>.  in.L  thy  wcr^j  ire  w  •>  ; 
With  thee  the  nobleft  gLts  the  gixis  have 
And  pow'r  iupreme  wi:.-. 
Though  oft,  by  parts,  for  others  they  ordain, 
The  arts  of  fway,  the  privilege  to  ;  \ 
In  thee  their  partial  favour  his  com:  \-.i\\ 
The  higheft  foitane  with  the  greateu  mind' 

As  thus  the  fage  reply'd,  the  princely  band 
By  turns  prefented  each  his  friendly  hand, 
The  fign  of  peace.     For  each  a  fplendid  throne, 
Where  fring'dwith  gold  the  purpfecovering'ihooe. 
The  ready  waiters,  by  Command,  prepar'd  ; 
There  fat  the  envoys  and  the  banquet  ihar'-d. 
On  ev'ry  fide  the  iparkiing  vintage  flows, 
The  momentary  cure  of  human  woes. 
The  rage  of  thirft  and  hunger  thus  inppreft, 
To  Neftor  turning,  Clytophon  addrefs'd. 

liluftrious  chief!  ab  honour  now  I'll  claim, 
Which  not  to  publifh.  fure,  would  merit  blame. 
Your  father's  gueft  I  was  ;  by  fortune  led, 
"When  from  Trinacria's  defert  fhores  I  fled 
\Vrth  ills  befet :  but  in  his  friendly  land, 
,  His  gen'rcns  bean  I  prov'd  and  lib'ral  band. 
A  grateful  mind  excites  me  to  reveal 
His  fqVreign  bounty,  and  attempt  a  tale 
Of  dear  remembrance.     But  the  fond  defign 
Prudence  difTeating,  warns  etc  to  decline  : 
For  when  to  public  cares  your  thoughts  you  bend 
A  private  ftory  mingled  muft  orTend. 

The  artful  Theban  thus.     The  chief  reply'd, 
Whofe  fov'reign  mandates  all  the  hoft  obey'd : 
My  honour'd  gneft  !  proceed,  nor  aught  conceal 
Which  gratitude  enjoins  you  to  reveal : 
For  gen'rous  deeds,  improperly  fappreir. 
Lie  nnappiauded  in  the  grateful  breaft; 
And  now  the  feaft,  Ihort  interval  of  care, 
To  vocal  fymphony  unbends  the  ear ; 
Or  fweet  dilcourfe,  which  to  the  foul  conveys 
Sublimer  joys  than  rnufic's  tuneful  lays. 
The  monarch  thus.  The  prudent  fage  fupprefc'd 
His  inward  joy,  and  thus  the  peers  sddrefs'd  : 
Each  chief  he  ftrove  to  *ain,  but  Xeftor  moft, 
-  Whofe  wiidom  fway'd  th=  councils  of  the  hoft. 

Confcd'rate  kings',  and thou  whofe  fov're ign  hand 
Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fuprems  command, 
Attend  and  hearken  '.  fince  you  feek  to  know 
The  fad  beginnings  of  a  lite  of  woe. 
In  Rhodes  my  father  once  dominion  claim'd, 
Orfilochus,  for  deeds  of  vaioor  fam'd, 
The  Sporades  his  fov'reign  fceptre  own'd, 
And  Carpa  thus  with  waving  forefts  crown'd. 
H:s  yoongeft  hope  I  was,  and  fcarce  had  feen 
The  tenth  returning  tummer  clothe  the  green, 
When  pirates  fnatch  me  frnrc  my  native  land : 
While  with  my  infant  equals  on  the  ftrand 
I  play'd,  of  harm  lecure,  and  from  the  deep 
With  pleaiure  faw  approach  the  fatal  (hip ; 

leas'd  with  the  wh-teoefs  of  the  fails  we  flood, 
And  the  red  ftreamers  flaming  on  the  flood : 


rearlefs  faw  the  hoftile  galley  laad,  * 
Where  from  the  hills  a  current  leeks  the  faint 
ITiey  climb'd  the  rocky  beach,  and  far  around, 
Intert  on  fpoil  and  rapine,  view'd  the  ground  ; 
If  any  herd  were  near,  or  deecy  ftore. 
Or  lonely  manfion  on  the  winding  fliore. 
My  your?  companions  ftraight  their  fear  obey. 
I,  bold  arid  unfufpecting,  dar'd  to  flay. 
Me  ilraight  they  feiz'd  :  and  doom'd  to  fervile  toil 
A  wretched  captive  in  a  foreign  foil. 
Struggling  in  vain,  they  bore  me  down  the  bay, 
Where,  anchor' J  near  the  beach,  their  verTel  lay  ; 
And  plac'd  me  on  the  deck.  With  bitter  cries, 
To  fpeeding  gales  I  faw  the  c  anvils  rite  : 
The  bound  let  i  ocean  far  before  me  fpread  ; 
And  from  my  reach  the  fhores  at  dittance  fled. 
All  day  I  wept ;  but  when  the  fetting  light 
Retir'd,  and  yielded  to  the  fhades  of  night, 
Sleep  ftole  upon  my  grief  with  fort  furptile, 
Which  care  ne'er  banilh'd  long  from  infant  eye?. 

Nine  days  we  fail'd .  th,e  tenth  returning  ray 
Show'd  us  Trinacria  riling  in  our  way, 
Far  in  the  welt ;  where,  with  his  ev'r.ing  beams, 
The  fun  descending  gilds  the  ocean's  ilreams. 
Thither  the  tailors  ply,  and  blindly  run 
On  hidden  dangers  which  they  ought  to  fhun  ; 
For  whom  the  gods  diftinguilh'd  by  their  hate. 
They  firil  confound,  and  then  refign  to  fate. 
All  day  we  (ail'd  ;  and  with  the  evening  hour, 
Which  calls  the  fhepherd  to  his  rural  bow'r, 
ApproacL'd  the  (bore.    The  forefts  on  the  land 
We  mark'd,  and  rivers  op'uirig  from  the  ftrand. 
Then  gladnefs  touch'd  my  heart ;  the  fir  it  I  knew 
Since  fate  had  mix'd  me  with  that  lawlefc  crew  : 
With  joy  I  faw  the  rifing  fhores  appear, 
And  hop'd  to  find  tome  kind  deliverer  near  ; 
Some  gen'rous  lord,  to  whom  I  might  relate. 
Low  beading  on  my  knees,  my  wretched  fate. 
Vain  was  tue  hope  ;  the  Cyclopes  ne'er  know 
Companion,  not  to  melt  at  human  woe. 

Near  on  the  left,  and  where  the  parted  tides 
A  promontory's  rocky  height  divides, 
A  bay  they  found ;  and  on  the  fatal  flrand 
Defcendtng,  fix'd  their  veflel  to  the  land. 
They  valleys  ftraight  and  mountains  they  explore^ 
And  the  long  windings  of  the  defert  ibure  ; 
And  nod,  of  theep  and  goats,  a  mingled  nock, 
Under  the  iLelter  of  a  caveraM  rock. 
The  iargeft  and  the  beft  the  pirate  band 
Seiz'd,  and  prepar'd  a  banquet  on  the  ftrand. 
With  joy  they  feafied ;  while  the  goblet,  crown'l 
With  Mitbj  mnean  vintage,  flow'd  around. 
Of  harm  fecure  they  1st ;  and  void  of  fear 
To  mirth  refign'd ;  nor  knew  deftrucrion  near. 

Amid  them  there  I  meditating  fat ; 
Some  god  infpir'd  me,  or  the  power  of  fate, 
To  'fcape  their  hated  hands :  and  (boa  I  found 
The  wifh'd  occafion ;  when  along  the  ground, 
Each  where  he  fat,  the  ruffians  lay  lupine, 
With  fleep  oppids'd,  and  fenfe-fubduing  wine ; 
Softly  I  rofe.  ari  to  a  lofty  grove, 
Which  (haded  all  the  mountain  tops  above, 
Attending,  in  a  rocky  cavern  lay, 
Till  darkneG  fled  before  the  morning  ray. 
Then  from  above  I  faw  the  pirate  band, 
In  parties,  roaming  o'er  the  deiart  ftrand  ; 
The  mountain-goats  they  drove,  and  fleecy  ftorej 
From  all  the  pafturcs,  crowded  to  the  fhore. 


SFI6ONIAD, 

Ale  too  by  name  they  call'd  ;  and  oft,  in  vain, 
Exploi'd  each  grove  and  thicket  on  the  plain  ; 
While  from  above  I  law,  with  carelefs  eye, 
Them  fearching  round  and  lift'ning  for  reply. 
Some  to  the  (hip  the  bleating  fpoil  convey'd  ; 
While  others  to  prepare  a  banquet  ftay'd. 
And  cali'd  their  mates  :  to  fhare  the  full  repaft 
With  mirth  they  came,  nor  knew  it  was  their  laft. 

Then  from  the  rocky  fummit  where  I  lay, 
A  flock  appear'd  defcending  to  the  bay  ; 
Which  through  a  narrow  valley  rufh'd  along, 
Oxen  and  fheep,  an  undiftinguifli'd  throng. 
With  thefe  the  Hoping  hills  werecover'd  o'er, 
And  the  long  windings  of  the  fandy  fliore. 
Behind  a  Cyclops  came;  and,  by  degrees, 
Kofe  to  my  view,  and  tower'd  above  the  trees. 
His  giant  ttature,  like  a  lofty  rock, 
Appear'd  :  and  in  hisliand  a  knotted  oak 
Of  tailed  growth  ;  around  his  Qioulder  flung 
His  bag  enormous,  by  a  cable  hung. 
Panting  I  lay  ;  as  when  a  lurking  deer^ 
From  fome  clofe  thicket,  fees  the  hunter  near. 
By  dread  fubdu'd,  confounded  and  amaz'd, 
My  fixed  eye-balls  darken'd  as  I  gaz'd. 
Soon  from  above  my  wretched  mates  he  knew, 
As  oh  the  level  more  in  open  view, 
They  fat  fecure,  with  flow'ry  garlands  crown'd; 
The  figns  of  fpoil  and  ravage  fcatter'd  round. 
With  indignation,  for  his  wafted  flock, 
Inflam'd  he  thus  like  diftant  thunder  fpoke. 
Whoe'er  thefe  are,  who  from  their  native  foil 
To  foreign  climates  thus,  in  queft  of  fpoil, 
Licentious  roam  ;  they  foon  fliall  feel  my  hand, 
And  rue  that  e'er  they  touch'd  Trinacria's  ftrand. 
As  mutt'ring  thus,  along  the  craggy  road 
He  came,  the  mountain  trembled  as  he  trod. 
The  wretches  faw  with  horror  and  affright ; 
Each  limb  enfeebled  loft  the  power  of  flight. 
Their  cries  in  vain  the  monfter  mov'd  to  fpare  ; 
His  club*  he  rear'd  and  fwung  it  thrice  in" air, 
Then  hurld  it  crofs  the  bay  :  it  fwiftly  drove 
O'er  the  fmooth  deep,  and  raz'd  the  beach  above. 
Threat'ning  it  rufli'd  along ;  but,  bending  low, 
•Each,  wlu*e  he  fat,  efcap'd  the  weighty  blow. 
Beyond  them  far  it  pitch'd  upon  the  land, 
Tore  the  green  fward,  and  heav'd  a  mount  of  fand. 
Now  darting  from  the  ground  they  ftrove  to  lly, 
Prefs'd  by  del'pair  and  itrong  neceflity; 
The  woody  fummits  of  the  cliffs  to  gain, 
With  faulting  hafte  they  fled  acrofsthe  plain. 
But  the  impending  mountains  barr'd  their  flight, 
High  and  projecting  from  their  airy  height,  ^ 
Back  from  the  flipp'ry  arch.fn  heaps,  they  fall; 
And  with  imploring  cries  for  mercy  call. 
In  vain.     The  moulter  with  gigantic  ftrides, 
At  twenty  fteps,  the  fpacious  bay  divides  ; 
Around  his  knees  the  whit'ning  billows  roar, 
And  his  rude  voice  like  thunder  makes  the  lliore. 
There  thirty  youths  he  flew  ;   againft  the  ftones 
And  ragged  cliffs,  hedafli'd  their  crackling  bones. 
Twenty  his  feet  and  heavy  hands  purfue, 
As  to  the  ocean  in  defpair  they  flew ; 
Striving  the  fummit  of  the  beach  to  gain, 
With  headlong  courfe  to  rum  into  the  main: 
For  there  they  hop'd  a  milder  fate  to  have, 
And  lefs  abhorr'd,  beneath  the  whelming  wave. 
Thefe  too  he  reach'd  ;  and,  with  his  weighty  hand, 
'ibeir  flight  opprefs'd,  and  raix'd  them  withtUe  land. 


Book  tV.  a^ 

Two  yet  furviv'J  ;  wh»  fupplicating  ftrove. 
With  humble  fuit,  his  barb'rous  foul  to  move. 
With  trembling  kneesthe  fandy  beach  they  pref»M; 
And,  as  he  came,  the  monfter  thus  addrefs'd  : 

O  rhou  !  with  whom  no  mortal  can  compare 
For  ftrength  refiftlefs,  pity  now  and  fpare. 
O  let  the  blood,  already  (bed,  atone, 
For  our  provoking  guilt,  and  trefpafs  done  ! 
O  fpare  and  pity  !   fure,  the  gods  above, 
Who  lit  around  the  ftarry  throne*  of  Jove, 
Are  won  by  pray'r;  and  he  whofe  match  lefs  might 
The  folid  earth  fuftains  and  ftarry  height, 
Oft  fpares  the  guilty  ;  for  his  foul  approves 
Companion,  and  the  works  of  mercy  loves. 
Let  fov'reign  pity  touch  thy  mighty  breaft ; 
And  him  revere,  the  greateft  and  the  beft: 
Who  pardons  oft,  but  meafures  grief  arid  pain 
To  fuch  as  hear  the  wretched  plead  in  vain. 

As  thus  to  touch  his  iron  heart  they  try'J, 
The  Cyclops  fmiling,  fcornful  thus  rf  ply'd  : 
The  praife  of  mercy  well  your  words  proclaim  ; 
And  vengeance  mark, though  merited,  withblame. 
Well  hav'e  youfpoken  ;  therefore,  from  my  hand, 
More  favour  hope  than  any  of  your  band  ; 
They,  on  the  defert  fliore  expos'd  and  bare, 
The  wolves  ftiall  feaft  and  ev'ry  bird  of  air ; 
But  ye,  prefer'd  above  the  reft,  (hall  have 
This  body  for  your  monument  and  grave. 

He  faid,  and  feizing  lifts  them  both  on  high, 
With  hands  and  feet  extended  in  the  fky ; 
Then  dafh'd  them  thrice  againft  thetocky  fliore; 
Gnaw'd  their  warm  flefh,  and  drank  their  dream. 

ing  gore. 

Oft  have  I  feen  the  havoc  of  the  plain, 
The  rage  of  tempefts  and  the  ftormy  main ; 
But  fate,  in  fuch  a  form,  ne'er  meet  my  eyei, 
And,  while  I  fpeak,  afrefh  its  horrors  rife 
To  chill  my  veins  5  nor  can  the  vary'd  ftate 
Of  fprightly  youth,  and  middle  age  fedate. 
Or  life's  laft  ftage  with  all  its  griefs  oppreft, 
Banilh  the  dire  impremon  from  my  bteaft. 
For  ftill  I  fee  the  moufter,  as  he  flood, 
His  hairy  vifage  dy'd  in  human  blood  : 
As  the  grim  lion  leaves  the  wafted  plains, 
Red  from  the  ravage  of  the  flocks  and  fwains. 

With  vengeance  pleas'd  he  view'd  the  fliores 

around ; 

And,  riding  near  the  beech,  our  veflel  found : 
Her  by  the  maft  he  feiz'd ;  and  to  the  land, 
With  all  her  anchors,  dragg'd  along  the  ftrand. 
Exploring,  next  the  folid  deck  he  tore, 
And  found,  conceal'd  below,  his  fleecy  ftore. 
With  fcornful  fmiles  he  faw  the  theft  bewray  d; 
And  fidelong  on  the  beach  the  galley  laid  ; 
And  calfd  his  flock  :  to  open  light  they  ftram. 
Through  the  wide  beach,  and  crowd  upon  the  plain : 
Still,  as  they  pafs'd,  his  weighty  hand  he  laid 
On  their  foft  backs,  and,  ftroaking  gently,  faid  ! 
Go  now,  my  flock  !  enjoy  the  verdant  hills, 
The  rivers  cool,  the  fweet  refremmg  rills, 
The  meads  and  lhady  forefts,  fafe  from  harm  ; 
Your  foes  lie  crufh'd  beneath  your  maftei 
The  giant  thus;  and  next  the  hold  explor'd: 
Four  jars  he  found  with  Lefbian  vintage  ft 
Thefe  firft  he  drain'd  ;  then  to  his  lips  apply  * 
His  flute,  which  like  a  quiver  by  his  fide, 
Of  fize  enormous,  hung.     Its  hollow  found 
The  woods  repeated  and  the  cave;  arousfl. 
»  ii'J 


THE   WORKS    OF    W  ILK  IE. 


Its  mafic  fuch,  as  when  a  ftormy  gale 
koars  through  a  hollow  cliff  with  hideous  peal, 
Refour.ding  deep,  along  the  level  fhore  : 
He  ply'd,  and  drove  his  paft'ring  flock  before. 
Horror  and  grief  at  once  my  heart  affail'd ; 
Prefages  fad  o'er  ev'ry  hope  prevail'd. 
My  diAant  country  rufli'd  upon  my  mind  ; 
Ivly  fr;ends,  my  weeping  parents,  left  behind. 
Now  loll  to  hope,  and  furious  from  defpair, 
"With  both  my  hands  I  rent  my  rooted  hair  ; 
And  in  an  agony  of  forrow  preft, 
With  flrokes  repeated  oft,  my  heaving  breaft. 
All  day  I  inourn'd  ;  but  when  the  letting  ray 
Ketir'd,  and  ev'ning  fhades  expell'd  the  day  ; 
Encourag'd  by  the  night,  I  fought  the  plain  ; 
And,  wand'ring  anxious  vmidit  the  mangled  (lain 
Oft  call'd,  to  know  if  any  of  the  band 
pid  yet  iurvive,  efcap'd  the  monfler's  hand; 
But  none  reply'd.     Along  the  defert  fliore 
All  night  I  wander'd,  'midit  the  fullen  roar 
Of  burfting  billows;  till  the  morning  ray 
Appear'd  to  light  nry  folitary  way 
'Twas  then  I  reach'd  a  mountain's  height,  o'er- 

fpread 

With  thicket's  clofe,  and  dark  impending  (hade, 
Hung  o'er  the  valley,  where  a  river  leads 
His  wand'ring  current  through  a  grove  of  reeds. 

Thither  I  went ;  and,  op'ning  to  the  deep, 
A  cavern  found  beneath  the  rocky  fteep  ; 
The  haunt  of  mountain  goats,  when  wint'ry  rains 
Have  chas'd  them  from  the  hills  and  naked  plains. 
Gladly  I  enter'el;  for,  deceiv'd  by  fear, 
I  always  thought  the  barb'rous  Cyclops  near  ; 
His  form  defcry'd  in  ev'ry  tree  behind, 
And  heard  his  voice  approaching  in  the  wind. 
Of  h'oney  there  a  fweet  repaU  I  found, 
In  clufters  hanging  frorn  the  cliffs  around, 
My  hunger-foon  appeas'd,  the  gentle  pow'r        , 
Of  deep  fubdu'd  me  till  the  ev'ning  hour. 
'  Ixvas  then  I  wak'd;  and  to  the  deep  below,  [flow  ; 
Through  thickets,  creep'd  with  careful  fteps  and 
And  gaz'd  around  if  any  hut  were  there, 
Or  folitary  wretch  my  grief  to  fhare  : 
But  none  appear'd.     I  climb'd  a  mountain's  head 
Where,  wide  before  me,  lay  the  ocean  fpread; 
And  there  no  object  met  my  wifhing  eyes, 
But  billows  bounded  by  the  fetting  Ikies. 
Yet  (till  I  gaz'd,  till  night's  prevailing  fway 
Jixtinguiih'd,  in  the  weft,  the  evening  ray. 
Hopelefs  rind  fad,  defcending  from  my  (land, 
I  wand'-r'd  on  the'folitary  ftrand, 
Thibugh  the  thi£k  gloom;  and  heard    the  fullen 

ro:ir 
Of  liilioxvs  bi'.rfijng  on  the  defert  fliore. 

Thus  ten  long  years  I  liv'd,  conceal'd  by  day, 
Under  a  rock  on  wither'd  leaves  I  lay  ; 
At  da'wn  and  twilight  on  the  mountains  flood, 
Exploring  with  my  eyes  the  pathlefs  flood  ; 
Impatient  till  fome  friendly  fail  fhould  come, 
To  w.ift  me  to  my  fire  and  native  home  ; 
But  none  uppear'd  "  The  pilots  fhun  the  (Lores 
Where  .^Etna  flames  and  dire  Charibdis  roars  ;* 
And  whefe  the  curs'd  Cyclopean  brothers  reign, 
The  lonely  tyrants  of  the  defert  plain. 
Prefi'd  by  defpair,  at  laft  I  dar'd  to  brave, 
IVn  in  a  Ikiff,  the  terrors  of  the  wave  j 
ConteiTining  all  the  perils  in  my  way, 
fat  wcrfe  it  feem'd  than  death  itfelf  to  ftay, 


Of  oziers  loft  the  bending  hull  I  woves; 
And  ply'd  the  (kins  of  mountain  goats  above. 
A  (lender  fir,  ten  cubit  lengths,  I  found 
Fall'n  from  a  mould'ring  bank,  and  ftript  it  round. 
This  for  the  malt,  with  bulruih  ropes  I  ty'd; 
A  pole  to  fteer  the  rudder's  ule  fupply'd  : 
Four  goat-fkins  join'd  I  fitted  for  the  fail, 
And  fpread  it  with  a  pole  to  catch  the  gale. 
Each  chink  with  gum  againfl  the  brine,  I  clos'd: 
And  the  whole  work  beneath  a  (hade  difpos'd. 
Where,  from  the  hills  defcending  to  the  main, 
A  winding  current  cuts  the  Tandy  plain. 
Nuts  and  dry'd  figs  in  b»(kets  next  I  (har'd ; 
And  liquid  liores  in  bags  of  (kin  prepar'd  : 
And  waited  anxious  till  the  fouthern  gale, 
From  the  dire  coaft,  fliould  bear  my  flying  fail. 
Nine  days  I  ftay'd  ;  and  (til!  thf;  northern  breeze, 
From  great  Hefperia,  fwept  the  whit'ning  feas: 
But  on  the  tenth  it  chang'd ;  and,  when  the  hour 
Of  twilight  call'd  the  giant  to  his  bow'r, 
Down  from  my  grotto  to  the  fliore  I  came, 
And  call'd  the  God  who  rules  the  ocean's  ilream; 
Oblations  vow'd,  if,  by  his  mighty  hand 
Conducted  fafe,  I  found  my  native  land. 
And,  turning  where  conceal'd  my  veflel  lay, 
The  rope  I  loos'd,  and  pufh'd  her  to  the  bay  ; 
The  fail  unfurl'd,  and.,  (leering  from  the  ftrand, 
Behind  me  left  with  joy  the  hated  land. 

All  night,  by  breezes  fped,  the  prow  divides 
The  deep  and  o'er  the  billows  lightly  glides. 
But  when  the  dawn,  prevailing  o'er  the  night, 
Had  ting'd  the  glowing  eaft  with  purple  light, 
The  air  was  hufh'd  :  deferted  by  the  gale, 
Loofe  to  the  maft  defcends  the  empty  fail. 
And  full  againft  my  courfe  a  current  came, 
Which  hurl'd  me  backwards,  floating  on  its  dream. 
Towards  the  land.     1  faw  the  (liores  draw  near  ; 
And  the  long  billows  on  the  beach  appear. 
The  cruel  Cyclops  fpy'd  me  as  he  drove 
His  paft'ring  fiock  along  the  hills  above  ; 
Asd  winding  through  the  groves  his  fecret  way, 
Conceal'd  behind  a  promontory  lay  ; 
Prepar'd  to  fnatcrj  rne,  when  his  arm  could  reach 
My  (kifF,  which  drove  ungovernM  to  the  beach. 
I  mark'd  his  purpofe  ;  furious  from  defpair, 
With  both  my  hands  I  rent  my  rooted  hair  ; 
And  on  the  poop  with  defp'rate  purpofe  ftood, 
Prepar'd  to  plunge  into  the  whelming  flood. 
But  Neptune  fav'd  me  in  that  perilous  hour; 
The  headlong  current  felt  his  prefent  pow'r :  • 
Back  from  the  (hore  it  turn'd,  at  his  command, 
And  bore  me  joyful/rom  the  fatal  ftrand. 
The  Cyclops  vex'd  ;  as  when  forne  fowler Tpies, 
Safe  fn;m  his  cover'd  fnares  the  quarry  rife : 
His  feat  forfuok,  and,  leaning  o'er  the  deep, 
Strove  with  foft  words  to  lure  me,  from  the  deep. 
St lunger,  approach  !  nor  fly  this  friendly  ftrand  ; 
Share  the  free  blellings  of  a  happy  laud  : 
Here,  from  each  cliff,  a  dream  of  honey  flows  ; 
And  ev'ry  hill  with  purple  vintage  glows; 
Approach  ;  your  fear  forget ;  my  bounty  (hare  ; 
My  kindnefs  prove  and  hofpitable  care. 
As  to  allure  me  thus  the  monlter  try'd, 
His  fraud  I  knew  ;  and  rafhly  thus  reply'd  : 
Talk  not  of  friendfhip  ;  well  I  know  the  doom 
Of  iuch  as  to  your  dire  dominions  come. 
Thele  eyes  beheld  when,  with  a  ruthlefs  hand, 
My  wretched  mates  you  mnrd.er'd  on  the  ftrand. 


EPIGONIAD,  BooKlV. 


Two  fu'd  for  mercy ;  but  their  limbs  you  tore 
With  brutal  rage,  and  drank  their  ftreaming  gore. 
If  heav'n's  dread  Sov'reign  to  my  vengeful  hand 
His  wafting  flames  would  yield,  and  forked  brand, 
Scorch'd  on  the  cliffs,  your  giant  limbs  fliould  feed 
The  mountain  wolves,  and  all  the  rav'nous  breed. 

I  faid  ;  and  from  the  fouth  a  riling  breeze 
Brufh'd  the  thick  woods,  aridfwept  the  curling  feas. 
Above  the  waves  my  vefiel  lightly  flew; 
The  ocean  widen'd,  and  the  fhores  withdrew. 
Enrag'd  the  Cyclops,  rufhing  down  the  fteep, 
Eager  to  fnatch  me,  plung'd  into  the  deep : 
My  flight  he  followed  with  gigantic  ftrides, 
And  ftem'd  with  both  his  knees  the  turning-  tides. 
Soon  had  I  perifh'd.  but  efcap'd  again, 
Protected  by  the  god  who  nales  the  main. 
He  fent  a  fpeftre  from  his  wat'ry  caves  ; 
Like  mift  it  role,  and  hover'd  o'er  the  waves. 
A  ikifflike  mine,  by  art  divine,  it  grew  ; 
And  to  the  left  acrofs  the  ocean  flew. 
With  courfe  dix-ided,  where  the  pilot  fpies 
Amid  the  deep  two  delert  iflands  rife, 
In  lhape  like  altars,  fo  by  failors  nam'd, 
A  mark  for  j.ilots,  elfe  for  nothing  fam'd  ; 
The  an^ry  giant  doubting  ftood,  nor  knew 
WhK-h  to  forfakc,  the  fhadow  or  the  true  : 
For  both  fetm'd  equal.     By  the  fates  mifled, 
He  i  has'd  the  airy  image  as  it  fled  : 
Not  reach'cl  it :  tor  it  led  him  through  the  main, 
As  the  bright  rainbow  mocks  lome  fimple  fwain ; 
Who  ftill  intent  to  catch  it  where  it  ftands, 
And  grafp  the  filming  meteor  with  his  hands, 
Along  the  dewy  meadows  holds  his  way ; 
But  (till  before  him  flies  the  coloured  ray. 
The  Cyclops  fo,  along  the  wat'ry  plain, 
The  lhadowy  phantom  chas'd,  ami  chas'd  in  vain  • 
The  billows  burlted  on  his  hairy  fides, 
And  far  behind  him  rufh'd  the  parted  tides. 
Ditlblv'd  at  laft,  its  any  ftruifture  broke,, 
And  vanifii'd  hov'ring  like  a  cloud  of  fmoke. 
His  error  then,  and  my  elcape  he  knew; 
For,  favour'd  by  the  breeze,  my  veflel  flew 
Far  to  the  deep :  yet  plunging  in  the  waves, 
Torn  from  its  bed  a  pond'rous  rock  he  heaves, 
Craggy  and  black,  with  dangling  fea-weeii  hung  ; 
Pulh'd  from  lib  hand  the  weighty  mafs  he  flung, 
To  crufh  my  flight :  along  the  ethereal  plain 
It  roll'd,  and    thund'ring  downwards  fliook  the 

main. 

Behind  it  fell ;  and  farther  from  the  fhore, 
Hurl'd  on  the  mounting  waves,  my  veflel  bore 
Towards  the  deep.     The  giant  faw  with  pain, 
His  fraud  detected,  force  eflay'd  in  vain. 
He  curs'd  the  partial  'pow'rs,  and  lafli'd  on  high, 
With  both  his  hands,  the  ocean  to  the  fky. 

Now  fafe  beyond  his  reach,  a  profp'rous  gale 
Blew  frefh  behind,  and  Itretch'd  my  flying  fail : 
The  fhores  retir'd  ;  but,  from  the  diftant  main, 
I  faw  him  towering  on  the  watery  plain, 
Like  a  tall  fhip  ;  and  moving  to  the  ftiore. 
Sullen  and  fad,  to  tend  his  fleecy  ftore. 
Seven  days  I  fail'd  ;  the  eighth  returning  light 
The  Pylian  fhores  prefented  to  my  fight, 
Far  in  the  raft ;  and  where  the  fun  difplays, 
Along  the  glitt'ring  waves,  his  early  rays. 
Thither  I  fteer'd,  and  where  a  point  divides 
Extended  in  the  deep,  the  parted  tides, 


A  fane  I  mark'd ;  wriofe  tow'ring  fummit,  rear'd 
High  in  the  air,  with  gilded  fpires  appear'd. 
Te  Neptune  facred  on  the  beach  it  ftands, 
Confprcuoas  from  the  fea  and  diftant  lands. 
Aflembled  on  the  fhore  the  people  ftood, 
On  ev'ry  fide  extended,  like  a  wood  i 
And  in  the  midlt  1  faw  a  pillar  rife, 
Of  facred  fmoke,  afcending  to  the  fkies. 
'Twas  there  I  reach'd  the  hofpitable  ftrand, 
And,  joyful,  fix'd  my  veflel  to  the  land. 

There,  with  his  peers,  your  royal  fire  I  found; 
And  fell  before  him  proftrate  on  the  ground, 
Imploring  aid  ;  my  lineagr  I  reveal'd, 
Nor  aught  of  all  my  tedious  toils  conceaTd. 
Attentive,  as  I  fpoke,  the  hero  heard. 
Nor  credulous  nor  diffident  appear'd; 
For  prudence  taught  him,  neither  to  receive 
With  eafy  faith,  or  raflily  difbelieve. 

O  fo«  of  Neleus !  though  you  juftly  claim, 
For  eloquence  and  (kill,  fuperior  fame  J 
Yet  to  an  e«f(«al  glory  ne'er  afpire : 
Vain  were  the  hope  to  emulate  your  fire. 
Eight  days  we  feafted  :  ftill  the  flowing  bowl 
Return'd,  and  fweet  difcourfe,  to  glad  the  foul. 
With  pleafure  heard  ;  as  comes  the  found  of  rain. 
In  Cummer's  drought,  to  cheer  the  careful  fwain. 
And  when  the  ninth  returning  morn  arofe, 
Sixty  bold  mariners  the  hero  chofe, 
Skill'd,  through  the  deep,  the  flying  keel  to  guide, 
And  fweep,  with  equal  oars,  the  hoary  tide : 
They  trimm'd  a  velfel,  by  their  lord's  command, 
To  waft  me  to  my  fire  and  native  land. 
With  gifts  enrich'd  of  robes  and  precious  ore, 
He  fent  me  joyful  from  the  Pylian  fhore. 
Such  Neleus  was '.  and  fuch  his  matchlefs  praife 
For  hofpitable  deeds  in  former  days ; 
The  friend,  the  patron,  deftin'd  to  redrefs 
The  wrongs  of  fate,  and  comfort  my  diftrefs. 

But  what  is  man  !  a  reptile  of  the  earth  ; 
To  toils  Jucceffive  fated  from  his  birth  ; 
Few  are  our  joys ;  in  long  fucceffion  flow 
Our  griefs ;   we  number  all  our  days  in  woe. 
Misfortune  enter'd  with  my  infant  years ; 
My  feeble  age  a  load  of  forrow-bears. 
Driv'n  from  my  country  by  domeflic  fi»es. 
Thebes  but  receiv'd  me  to  partake  her  woes. 
The  fword  I've  feen,  and  wide  devouring  fire, 
Againft  her  twice  in  fatal  league  confpire. 
The  public  griefs,  which  ev'ry  heart  muft  fhare, 
By  nature  taught  to  feel  another's  care, 
Augment  my  own  :  our  matrons  weeping  ftand; 
Our  rev'rend  elders  mourn  a  ruin'd  land  : 
Theirfurrow'd  cheeks  with  ftreamsofforrowfloW; 
And  wailing  orphans  fwell  the  gen'ral  woe ; 
They  mourn  their  deareft  hopes,  in  battle  flain, 
Whofe  limbs,  unbury'd,  load  their  native  plain; 
And  now  by  us  entreat  that  war  may  ceafe. 
And,  for  feven  days  fucceffive,  yield  to  peace: 
That  mutually  fecure,  with  pious  care, 
Both  hofts  funereal  honours  may  prepare 
For  ev'ry  warrior,  whom  the  rage  of  fight 
Has  fwept  to  darknefs  and  the  coafts  of  night. 
To  ratify  the  truce,  if  ye  approve, 
We  come  alike  commifllon'd,  as  to  move. 

Thus  Clytophon ;    and    he,    whofe   fov'rcign 

fway 
The  warriurs  of  the  i*yiian  race  obey. 


THE    WORKS    OF    WlLK\L. 


Neftor,  his  partial  favour  thus  exprefs'd  ; 
And  to  the  Theban  chief  himfelf  addrelVd  : 
The  truth  you  fpeak,  nor  do  your  woids  appear 
Prepar'd  with  art,  or  dictated  by  fear;* 
For  what  you  tell,  my  immory  recals, 
.When  young  I  favv  you  at  my  native  walls, 
Yourfelf  a  youth :  though  now  a  length  of  years, 
Imprinted  deep,  in  all  your  form  appears  ; 
Yet  ftill,  with  fure  remembrance,  can  I  trace 
Your  voice  the  fame^nd  lineaments  of  face. 
An  infant  then  upon  your  kuees  I  hung, 
And   catch'd    the    pleafing  wondeis  from  your 

tongue  : 

Your  woes  I  pity'd,  as  I  pity  ftill ; 
And,  were  the  chiefs  determin'd  by  my  will, 
The  truce  fliould  Hand  :  for  piety  confpires 
With  juftice,  to  demand  what  Thebes  requires. 

The  hero  thus  ;  the  king  of  men  replies  : 
Princes,  in  fight  approv'd,  in  council  wife  ! 
What  Thebes  propounds,  'tis  yours  alone  to  choofe, 
"Whether  ye  will  accept  it,  or  refufc : . 
For  though  your  votes  confenting,  in  my  hand 
Have  plac'd  the  fceptrc  of  fupreme  command ; 
Yet  ftill  my  pow'r,  obedient  to  my  choice, 
Shall  with  its  fanftion  join  the  public  voice. 

The  monarch  thus  ;  and  thus  the  chief  reply'd, 
Whom  fair  ./Etolia's  martial  Ions  obey'd  : 
Princes,  attend  !   and  thou,  whofe  fov'reign  hand 
Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fupreme  command  1 
What  Thebes  requires,  I  do  not  now  oppofe, 
JJecaufe,  infenfible  to  human  woes, 
The  widow's  tears  I  fcorn,  the  mother's  fighs, 
The  groans  of  lifters,  or  the  orphan's  cries, 
Whofe  deareft  hopes,  in  rage  of  battle  flain, 
With  wounds  defac'd,  lie  fcatter'd  on  the  plain  ; 
(,'ompafiion  for  the  hoft,  which  fruitiefs  toil 
So  long  fcas  wafted  in  a  foreign  foil, 
What  Thebes  propound1),  impcL>  me  to  difluade, 
And  for  the  living,  difregard  the  dead. 
How  long  has  war  and  famine  thinn'd  ourpow'rs, 
Inactive  camp'd  around  the  Theban  tow'rs  ? 
And  peftilence,  whofe  dire  infection  flies, 
Blown  by  the  furies  through  the  tainted  Ikies  : 
Many  now  wander  on  the  Stygian  iliore, 
Whom  iires  and  conforts  fliall  behold  no  more  : 
And  many  ftill,  who  yet  enjoy  the  day> 
Muft  follow  down  the  dark  Tartarean  way, 
If,  blinded  by  the  fates,  our  counfeis  bar 
The  courfe  of  conqueft,  and  protra<ft  the  war. 
Since  equity  and  public  right  demands 
That  Thebes  fliould  fall  by  our  avenging  hands, 
Now  let  us  combat,  till  the  gods  above, 
Who  fit  around  the  ftarry  throne  of  Jove, 
The  judges  of  the  nations,  crown  our  toil, 
So  long  endur'd,  with  vidlory  and  fpoil ; 
Or  deftine  us  to  fall  in  glorious  fight, 
Elate  and  dauntleis  in  the  caufe  of  right. 
Shall  we  delay  till  dire  infection  fpreads 
Her  raven  wings  o'er  our  devoted  heads  ? 
Till  gen'rous  wrath,  by  flow  difeafe  iuppreft, 
Expires  inactive  in  the  warrior's  breaft, 
And  life,  the  price  of  glory,  paid  in  vain, 
Who  die  forgotten  on  a  foreign  plain. 

Tydides  thus ;  and  he,  whofe  fovereign  fway 
The  warriors  of  the  Pylian  race  obey, 
Neftor  reply'd,  for  eloquence  approv'd, 
Ey  Pallas  and  the  tuneful  filters  lov'd  : 


Confed'rate   kings !    and   thou,   whofe   fov'reij* 

hand 

Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fupreme  command, 
With  patience  hear  the  reafons  which  i  plead 
For  funeral  rites,  the  hoi;0urs  of  the  dead. 
Well  have  you  heard  the  various  ills  that  wait 
On  ftrife  prolong'd,  and  war's  difaftrousftate: 
And  they  who  choofe  to  dwell  amid  alarms, 
The  rage  of  flaughter  ai:d  the  din  of  arms, 
Know  littte  of  the  joys,  when  combats  ceafe, 
That  crown  with  milder  blifs  the  hours  of  peace. 
Though  gladly  would  I  fee,  in  vengeance  juft, 
The  '1  heban  tow'rs  confounded  with  the  duft  ; 
That  from  the  war  releas'd,  we  might  again 
Each  fliare  the  pleafures  of  his  native  reign  : 
Yet  let  us  not  preiumptuoufly  withftand 
What  piety  alike  aiu!  right  command, 
The  honours  of  the  dead  ;  nor  tempt  the  gods 
To  ctirfe  our  labours,  from  their  bright  abodes. 
Far  in  the  heav'ns,  above  this  mortal  fcene, 
In  boundlefs  light,  the  thund'rer  fits  ferene  ; 
He  views  the  works  of  men :  the  good  he  knows, 
And  on  their  juft  attempts  fuccefs  beitows ; 
But  Waits  impiety,  and  mocks  its  aim, 
With  difappointment  fure,  and  iafting  (bunt. 

Attend,  ye  princes !  and  I  flaall  unfold 
What  fage  Harmodius  taught  my  fire  of  old. 
The  Locri  fummon'd  all  their  martial  pow'rs. 
And  fought  around  the  Orchomenian  tow'rs. 
From  oxen  feiz'd  began  the  dire  debate ; 
And  wide  and  wafteful  was  the  work  of  fate. 
The  Orchomenians  oft  a  truce  propos'd 
For  fun'ral  rites ;  the  Locrian  chiefs  oppos'd. 
Nine  days  expir'd,  the  bleeding  warriors  lay  ; 
Their  wounds  hot  ftreaming  to  the  folar  ray. 
From  Styx's  fable  (hore  their  ghofts  implor'd. 
With  fuppliant  cries,  hell's  dread  avenging  lord. 
He  heard,  and  from  the  gloomy  deep  below 
Of  Erebus  profound,  the  houfe  of  woe, 
A.  fury  fent,  the  nerceft  of  the  crew, 
Whofe  iron  fcourges  human  crimes  purftie: 
Difcord  her  name  ;  among  th'  infernal  gods 
She  dwells,  excluded  from  the  bleft  abodes; 
Though  oft  on  earth  flie  rears  her  baleful  head> 
To  kindle  ftrife,  and  make  the  nations  bleed. 
The  fury  came  ;  and,  hov'ring  o'er  the  plain 
Devoted  with  her  eyes  the  Locrian  train. 
In  form  a  raven,  to  a  tow'r  flie  flew, 
Which  rofe  upon  a  precipice  in  view, 
And  on  the  airy  fummit  took  her  feat, 
With  potent  charms,  to  kindle  dire  debate. 
The  howling  dogs  her  prefence  firft  declare  ; 
The  war  horfe  trembling  fnorts  aloft  >n  air; 
On  man  at  laft  the  dire  infe&ion  fell, 
The  awful  vengeance  of  the  pow'rs  of  hell. 
Confufion  ftraight  through  all  the  camp  is  found  ; 
The  wand'ring  centinel  deferts  his  ground, 
Fatally  gay  and  crown 'd  with  every  weed, 
Which  weeping  matrons  fcatter  o'er  the  deael ; 
Of  dire  portent :  but  when  the  filent  reign 
Of  night  poflefs'd  the  mountains  and  the 
Above  the  camp  her  torch  the  fury  rear'd, 
Red,  in  the  air,  its  baleful  flame  appear'd. 
Kindling  debate  :  outrageous  ftrife  arofe, 
Loud  as  the  ocean  when  a  tempeft  blows, 
O'er  all  the  plain,  and  ftun'd  the  ear  of  night 
With  Ihouu  tumultuous  and  the  din  of  fight.- 


EPIGONIAD,  BOOK  IV. 
"SDown  from  her  airy  ftand  the  goddefs  came, 
Shot  like  a  meteor,  with  a  dream  of  flame, 
To  kindle  fiercer  drife  with  dronger  charms, 
To  fwcll  the  tumult  and  the  rage  of  amis. 
The  combat  burn'd  ;  the  Orchomenians  heard 
With  horror,  nor  beyond  their  walls  appear 'd, 
By  awe  divine  reftrain'd  :  but  when  the  light 
Return'd  fuccefli  ve  on  the  fteps  of  night, 
From  ev'ry  tow'r  they  faw  the  fpacious  plain 
With  havoc  heap'd,  and  mountains  of  the  flain. 
The  fecret  caufe  the  augurs  firft  declar'd  ; 
The  juftice  of  the  gods  they  own'd  and  fear'd. 
No  fun'ral  rite  the  Orchonienian  date 
On  them  beftow'd,  the  vulgar  or  the  great ; 
In  one  deep  pit,  whole  mouth  extended  wide 
Four  hundred  cubit  length  from  fide  to  fide, 
They  whelm'd  them  all ;  their  bucklers  and  their 

fpears, 

The  deeds,  the  chariots,  and  the  charioteers, 
One  ruin -mix' d ;  for  fo  the  will  of  Jove 
The  prieds  declar'd :  and  rieap'd  a  mount  above  : 
Such  was  the  fate,  by  heav'n  and  hell  decreed, 
To  puniih  bold  contemners  of  the  dead. 
And  let  not  us  their  fatal  wrath  provoke, 
Nor  merit  by  our  guilt  an  equal  ftrokc  ; 
But  leal  the  truce,  and  pioufly  beftow 
What  to  the  reliques  of  the  dead  we  owe. 

He  faid ;  the  peers  their  joint  allent  declare, 
The  dead,  to  honour,  and  the  gods  revere. 
The  king  of  men  commands  a  herald  flraight 
The  prieflsto  call,  and  haden  ev'ry  rite. 
While  thus  the  fov'reign  mandate  they  obey'd, 
Th'  -ffitolian  leader  rofe,  and  frowning  faid : 

O  blind  to  truth  !  and  fated  to  fuftain 
A  length  of  woes,  and  tedious  toils  in  vain  ! 
By  founds  deceiv'd,  as  to  her  fatal  den 
Some  vocal  forc'refs  lures  the  ftcps  of  men  ; 
O  eloquence  !  thou  fatal  charm !  how  few, 
Guided  by  thee,  their  real  good  purfue  ! 
By  thee,  our  maids,  with  magic  fetters  bound, 
In  all  decilions,  true  andfalfe  confound. 
Not  the  unnumber'd  wrecks,  which  lie  along 
The  Syrens'  coaft  the  trophies  of  their  long, 
Nor  there  where   Circe  from    the  neighb'ring 

deep, 

With  ftrong  inchantments,  draws  the  paflingfhip, 
Can  match  thy  fpoils  :  O  let  me  ne'er  obey, 
And  follow  "blindly,  as  you  point  the  way ! 
Confed'rate  kim:s  !  lince  nothing  can  oppofe 


Speaking  he  grafp'd  his  fpear  and  pond'row. 
Shield;  rfield 

And  mov'd  like  Mars,  when,  'midd  th'  embattoll'4 
Sublime  he  ilalksto  kindle  fierce  alarms, 
To  fwell  the  tumult  and  the  rage  of  arms. 
Such  feem'd  the  chief:  the  princes  \vi:h  furprifc 
Turn'd  on  the  king  of  men,  at  once  their  eyes. 

He  thus  began  :  Since  now  the  public  choice 
The  truce  approves,  with  one  conlenting  voice  ; 
Tydides  only,  with  fuperior  pride, 
Though  younged,  11:11  the  readied  to  decide, 
Our  gen'ialfenfe  condemns;  his  haughty  foul 
Mud  not  the  counfels  of  the  hod  controul, 
Brave  though  he  is  :  the  altars  ready  Hand ; 
In  order  waits  the  coniecrated  band ; 
Straight  let  us  feal  tjie  truce  with  blood  and  wine, 
And,  to  atted  it,  call  the  pow'rs  divine. 

The  monarch  thus ;  Tydides  to  his  tent, 
Through  the  dill  hod,  in  fullen  forrow  went. 
i7ix'd  in  his  mind  the  fatal  vifion  day'd, 
Snatch'd  by  invading  force  his  lovely  maid; 
The  fraud  of  Cytherea ;  dill  his  heart 
Inceflant  anguifh  felt,  and  lading  fmart  ; 
And,  as  a  lion,  when  his  fide  retains 
A  barbed  dsaft,  the  caufe  of  bitter  pains, 
Growls  in  fome  lonely  fliade  ;  his  friends  declin'^ 
He  breath'd  in  groans  the  anguim  of  his  mind. 

Now  round  the  flaming  hearth  th'  affembly 

dands, 

4nd  Thcfeus  thus  invokes  with  lifted  Hands: 
Hear  me,  ye  pow'rs,  that  rule  the  realms  of  light< 
And  ye  dread  fov'rcigns  of  the  (hades  of  night  • 
If,  till  the  eighth  fucceeding  fun  difplays, 
Above  the  eaftern  hills  his  early  rays, 
Any  bold  warrior  of  the  Argive  bands, 
Againd  a  Thebau  lifts  his  hoftile  hands 
By  us  approv'd ;  let  ev'ry  curfc  fucceed 
On  me,  and  all,  for  perjury  decreed. 
And  as  by  blood  our  mutual  oath  we  feal, 
The  blood  of  victims  drawn  by  dcathful  lleel ; 
So  let  their  blood  be  died,  who,  fcorning  right, 
Profanely  fhall  prefume  its  ties  to  flight. 
Apollo's  pried,  for  Thebes  refum'd  the  vow, 
The  gods  above,  invoking,  and  below, 
Their  vengeance  to  inflict,  if  force,  or  art, 
The  truce  fhould  violate  on  either  part. 

The  rites  concluded  thus,  the  king  command  • 
Two  younger  warriors  of  his  native  bund* 
A  chariot  to  prepare;  the  driver's  place 


The  truce  YOU  purpofe  with  our  treach  rous  foes,  I  Sophronimus  aflum'd  ;  with  tardy  pact, 

.  _  ,J .    ~  f      *  _  ..*        i  .  i      /•         _    t  .  /i-  j i_  .r-_.. 


With  mifchjef  pregnant;  I  alone  am  free, 
Jslar  thefe  my  eyes  the  fatal  rite  fliall  fee ; 
Left  it  be  faid,  when  mifchief  diall  fucceed, 
Tydides  faw  it,  and  approv'd  the  deed. 


Afcend  the  fage  ambafladors;  before 

A  lighted  torch  Aderopatus  bore, 

And  led  the  way;  the  tents,  the  fields  of  war, 

They  pals'd,  and  at  the  gate  difmifc'd  the  car. 


BOOK    V. 


SOON  as  the  fun  difplay'd  his  orient  ray, 
And  crown'd  the  mountain  tops  with  early  day  ; 
Through  ev'ry  gate  the  Theban  wan iors  flow, 
Unarm'd,  and  fearlefs  of  th'  invading  foe  . 
As  when,  in  early  fpring,  the  fliepherd  fees 
F.ufh  fcoju  ionic  hollow  rock  a  ilrcam  of  bees, 


Long  in  the  cliffs,  from  winter's  rage  concral'd, 
New  to  the  light,  and  ftrartgcrs  to  the  field ; 
In  compafs  wide  their  mazy  flight  they  deer, 
Which  wings  of  balmy  zephyrs  lightly  bear 
Along  the  meads,  where  fome  foft  river  flow*, 
Or  i'orefts,  what  the  flow'ry  hawthorn  blowf ; 


THE   WORKS   OP  WILKIE. 


To  tafte  the  early  fpring  their  courfe  they  bend, 
And  lightly  with  the  genial  breeze  defcend : 
So  o'er  the  heights  and  plains  the  Thebansfpread; 
Some,  'midft  the  heaps  of  flaughter,  fought  their 

dead; 

Others  with  axes  to  the  woods  repair'd, 
FelPd  the  thick  forefts,  and  the  mountains  bar'd. 

With  like  intent  the  Argive  warriors  mov'd, 
By  Thefeus  led,  whom  virgin  Pallas  lov'd. 
Ten  thoufand  oxen  drew  the  harnefs'd  wains, 
In  droves  collected  from  the  ne'ghb'ring  plains; 
Sl»w  up  the  mountains  move  the  heavy  wheels, 
The  fteep  afcent  each  groaning  axle  feels : 
In  ev'ry  grove  the  temper'd  axes  found  ; 
The  thick  trees  crackle,  and  the  caves  refound. 
Now  to  the  plain  the  moving  woods  defcend, 
Under  their  weight  a  thoufand  axles  bend  : 
And  round  the   camp,  and  ,round  the  Thcban 

'  walls, 
Heaps  roll'd  on  heaps,  the  mingled  forefl  falls. 

Of  this  the  Spartan  chief,  his  native  bands, 
With  fpced  to  rear  a  lofty  pile,  commands ; 
Which  for  Hegialus,  with  grateful  mind, 
Adraftus'  valiant  fon,  the  chief  defign'd  ; 
Who  to  his  aid,  when  ev'ry  warrior  fled, 
Kepair'd,  and  for  his  refcue  greatly  bled : 
His  native  bands  the  hero  thus  addrefs'd, 
While  fighs  inceffant  labour'd  from  his  breaft. 
The  chief  o£  Argos,  warriors !  firft  demands 
Funereal  honours  from  our  gratdful  hands ; 
•  For  him  this  lofty  ftructure  is  decreed, 
And  ev'ry  rite  in  order  fhall  fucceed : 
His  dear  remains  in  my  pavilion  reft  ; 
Nor  can  Adraftus  at  the  rites  affift; 
Who  to  defpair  and  frenzy  has  refign'd, 
By  age  and  grief  fubdu'd,  his  generous  mind  : 
The  other  princes  of  the  army  wait 
The  obfecjuies  to  grace,  with  mournful  ftate. 
He  faid ;  and  to  his  tent  the  warriors  led, 
Where  ftood  already  deck'd  the  fun'ral  bed: 
With  Syrian  oil  bedew'd,  the  corfe  they  found 
Frefh   from  the   bath,   and   breathing  fragrance 

round : 

Tor  Menolaus,  with  divided  care, 
Each  rite  domeftic  haften'd  to  prepare. 
Twelve  princes  to  the  pile  the  corfe  fuftain'd : 
The  head  on  Agamemnon's  hand  reclin'd  : 
\Vith  mournful  pomp  the  flow  proceffion  mov'd; 
For  all  the  herohor.our'd  and  approv'd. 

Firft  on  the  top  the  fun'ral  bed  they  place; 
And  next,  the  fad  foicrnnity  to  grace, 
Ar.d  gratify  the  manes  of  the  flain, 
The  blood  of  fields  and  bullocks  drench'd   the 

p!ain. 

The  four  fair  fteeds  which  drew  the  rapid  car, 
That  bore  the  hero  through  the  ranks  of  war, 
Their  lofty  necks  the  pointed  faulchion  tore, 
With  force  impell'd,  and  drew  a  flreatn  of  gore : 
Three    groaning    fell ;    but,    fiercer    from    the 

ftroke, 

The  filver  reins  the  fourth  with  fury  broke, 
And  fled  around  the  field  :  his  fnowy  cheft, 
Was  dafii'd  with  ftreaming  blood,  and  lofty  creft. 
In  circles  'till  he  whcel'd!  at  ev'ry  round, 
Stiil  nearer  to  th;-  pile  himfelf  he  found  ; 
Till  drain'd  of  life,  by  blood  alone  fupply'd, 
Juft  where  he  felt  the  blow,  he  funk,  and  dy'd. 


By  awe  divine  fubdu'd,  the  warriors  flanct ; 
And  filent  wonder  fixes  ev'ry  band  : 
Till  thus  Atrides  :  Sure  th'  immortal  gods, 
The  glorious  fynod  of  the  bleft  abodes, 
Approve  our  rites ;  the  good  their  favour  fhare, 

[n  death  and  life  the  objects  of  their  care. 
Atrides  thus  :  and,  further  to  augment 
The  mournful  pomp,  the  martial  goddefs  went 

Through  all  the   camp,  in   Merion's  form  ex- 
prefs'd, 

And  thus  aloud  the  public  ear  addrefs'd : 

Warriors  and  friends !  on  yonder  lofty  pyre, 

Hegialus  expeds  the  fun'ral  fire  . 

For  fuch  high  merit,  public  tears  fhould  flow  ; 

And  Greece  affembled  pour  a  flood  of  woe. 

Now  let  us  all  his  obfequies  attend; 

And,  with  the  mournful  rites,  our  forrows  blend. 

Procla;ming  thus  aloud  the  goddefs  went ; 

The  army  heard  ;  and  each  forfakes  his  tent ; 

Her  voice  had  touch'd  their  hearts ;  they  mov'd 
along, 

Nations  atxj  tribes,  an  undiftinguifh'd  throng. 

Around  the'jjile  the  wid'ning  circle  grows ; 

As  fpreadim  in  fome  vale,  a  deluge  flows,  - 

By  mountain  torrents  fed,  which  ftretches  wide, 

And  floats  the  level  lands  on  ev'ry  fide. 

Diftinguifh'd  in  the  midft  the  princes  ftand, 

With  Tceptres  grac'd,  the  enfigns  of  command. 

Atrides,  with  fuperior  grief  opprefs'd, 

Thus  to  the  fire  of  gods  his  pray'r  addrefs'd. 
L  read  fov'reign,  hear !  whofe  unrefifted  fway 

The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey : 

From  thee  the  virtue  of  the  hero  Iprings ; 

Thine  is  the  glory  and  the  pow'r  of  kings. 

If  e'er  by  thee,  and  virgin  Pallas,  led, 

To  noble  deeds  this  gen'rous  youth  was  bred : 

If  love  to  men,  or  piety,  poffefs'd, 
With  higheft  purpofe,  his  undaunted  breaft  ; 
Command  the  winds  in  bolder  gufts  to  rife, 
And  bear  the  flames  I  kindle  to  the  fkies. 
The  hero  thus  ;  and  with  the  fun'ral  brand 

The  ftructure  touch'd ;  afcending  from  his  hand, 
Spreads  the  quick  blaze  :  the  ruler  of  the  fky 
Commands ;  at  once  the  willing  tempefts  fly : 
Rufhing  in  ftreams  invifible,  they  came, 
Drove  the  light  -fmoke,  and  rais'd  the   fheeted 

flame. 

The  favour  of  the  gods  the  nations  own, 
And,  with  their  joint  applaufe,  the  hero  crown. 
From  morn  till  noon  the  roaring  flames  afpife, 
And  fat  of  victims  added  feeds  the  fire ; 
Then  fall  their  lofty  fpires,  and,  finking  low, 
O'er  the  pale  afhes  tremuloufly  glow. 
With  wine,  the  fmoke,  and  burning  embers  lay'd; 
The  bones  they  glean'd,  and  to  a  tomb  convey'd 
Under  an  oak,  which,  near  the  public  way, 
Invites  the  fvvains  to  fliun  die  noontide  ray. 
Now  twenty  warriors  of  Atrides'  train, 
Loaded  with  treafure,  brought  a  harnefs'd  wain  ; 
Vafes  and  tripods  in  bright  order  pluc'd, 
And  fplenclid  arms  with  fair  devices  grac'd  : 
Thefe  for  the  games  the  Spartan  chief  decreed, 
The  fun'ral  games  in  honour  of  the  dead. 
Amid  the  princes. firft  a  polifh'd  yew, 
Unbent  upon  the  ground  the  hero  threw, 
Of  work  divine;  which  Cynthius  claim'd  before, 
And  Chiron  next  upon  the  mountains  bore ; 


£  PI  CON  I  AD,    BooKV. 


His  fire  the  third  recetv'd  it :  now  it  lies, 
For  him  who  fartheft  fhoots,  the  deilin'd  prize. 

Heroes,  approach  !  Atridcs  thus  aloud, 
Stand  forth,  diftinguiuVd  from  the  circling  crowd, 
Ye,  who,  by  (kill  or  manly  force,  may  claim 
Your  rivals  to  furpafs,  and  merit  fame. 
This  bow,  worth  twenty  oxen,  is  decreed 
For  him  who  fartheft  fends  the  winged  reed : 
This  bowl,  worth  eight,  (hall  be  referv'd  to  grace 
The  man  whofe  merit  holds  the  fecond  place. 
He  fpoke.     His  words  the  bold  Ajaces  fir'd ; 
Crete's  valiant  monarch  to  the  prize  afpir'd ; 
Teucer  for  .(hooting  fam'd  ;  and  Merion  ftrong, 
Whofe  force  enormous  dragg'd  a  bull  along  ; 
Prompt  to  contend,  and  rais'd  with  hope,  they 

flood; 

Laertes'  fon  the  laft  forfook  the  crowd. 
Tydides  too  had  join'd  the;n,  and  obtain'd 
Whatever  could  by  fkili  or  force  be  gain'd ; 
But  in  his  tent,  indulging  fad  defpair, 
He  fat,  fubdu'd  by  heart-confuming  care. 

Straight  in  a  cafque  the  equal  lots  were  thrown ; 
Each  hero  with  his  name  had  mark'd  his  own  : 
Thefe,  mix'd  with  care,  the  chief  of  Sparta  drew  ; 
Idomeneus  the  firil  he  knew  : 
Teucer.  with  hopeinfpir'd,  the  fecond  claim'd; 
The  third  Oileus,  much  for  (hooting  fam'd  : 
Next  claim'd  the  wearer  of  the  feven-fold  fhield, 
Though  young  in  arms,  diftinguifh'd  in  the  field : 
Ulyffes  !  then  came  next,  and,  laft  of  all, 
Bold  Merion  with  a  iinile  receiv'd  his  ball. 

Prefs'd  with  incumbent  force,  the  Cretan  lord 
Strain'd  the  ftiff  bow,  and  bent  it  to  the  cord; 
Then  from  the  full  ftor'd  quiver,  clofe  with  art, 
Wing'd  for  the  aerial  flight  a  pointed  dart. 
Theieus  commands  the  warriors  to  divide, 
Who  crowded  thick  and  prels'd  on  ev'ry  fide ; 
Straight  they  retire ;  as,  at  the  word  of  Jove, 
From  day's  bright  face  the  icatt'ring  clouds  re 
move  ; 

And  through  the  hoft  appear'd  a  fpacious  way, 
Where  woods  and  fields  in  diftant  profpecft  lay. 
With  force  immenfe ,  the  Cretan  monarch  drew, 
Stretch'd  the  tough  cord,  and  ftrain'd  the  circling 

yew, 

'From  his  firm  gripe  the  ftarting  arrow  fprung, 
The  ftiff  bow  crack'd .  the  twanging  cordage  lung. 
Up  the  light  air  the  hilling  weapon  flies, 
Pierces  the  winds,  and  flreams  along  the  Ikies : 
Far  to  the  di.iant  plain  it  fwiftly  drove  •. 
The  hoft  flood  wond'ring  as  it  rufh'd  above : 
Defcending  there  upon  a  mount  it  flood  : 
A  depth  of  foil  receiv'd  the  trembling  wood. 
Applaufe  from  all,  tumultuous  fhcut?  declare, 
By  echoes  wafted  through  the  trembling  air. 
Such  joy  the  hero  feels,  as  praife  infpires, 
And  to  the  circle  of  the  kings  retires 

The  valiant  1'eucer  next  receiv'd  the  bow, 
And  to     polio  thus  addrei's'd  a  vow  : 
Hear  me,  dread  king  !  whofe  unrefifted  fway 
Controuis  the  fun,  and  rules  the  courfe  of  day  ; 
Great  patron  of  the  bow  !  this  fhaft  impeil ; 
And  hecatombs  my  gratitude  fhall  tell ; 
Soon  as  to  balamis  our  martial  pow'rs 
Return  victorious,  from  the  Theban  tow'rs. 
He  faid,  and  bid  the  winged  arrow  fly 
It  pierc'd  the  winds,  and  twepta  length  of  fry ; 
I 


In  compafs,  like  the  coloured  arch,  which  (nines 
Exalted  as  the  fetting  fun  declines ; 
From  north  to  fouth  it  marks  th'  ethereal  fpace, 
And  woods  and  mountains  fill  its  wide  cmbiace: 
Beyond  the  Cretan  (haft,  it  reacli'd  the  plain  ; 
As  far  before,  as  now  a  (hepherd  fwain, 
Hurl'd  from  a  fling,  the  founding  flint  can  throw, 
From  his  young  charge,  to  drive  the  deadly  crow. 

Oilcan  Ajax  next  the  weapon  clu.im'd, 
For  (kill  above  the  reft,  and  practice  fam'd  ; 
But  Phcebus,  chief  and  patron  of  the  art, 
Retarded  in  its  flight  the  winged  dart : 
For,  nor  by  prayers,  nor  holy  vows,  he  drove, 
Of  grateful  lacririce,  the  god  to  move. 
Downwards  he  turn'd  it,  where  a  cedar  fan- 
Had  (hot  its  fpiring  top  aloft  in  air  ;  . 
Caught  in  a  bough  the  quiv'ring  weapon  ftood, 
Nor  forc'd  a  paffage  through  the  doling  wood. 

Ajax  the  next  appear'd  upon  the  plain, 
W  ith  ftrength  untaught,  and  emulous  in  vain ; 
With  finewy  arms  the  folid  yew  he  bends ; 
Near  and  more  near  approach  the  doubling  ends : 
The  arrow  fprung :  but  erring  took  its  way, 
Far  to  the  Isft,  where  oozy  marfhei  lay, 
And  groves  of  reeds ;  where  flow  ifmenus  ftrays, 
And  winds,  through  thickets  green,  his  wat'iy 

maze. 

Abafh'd  the  youth,  with  painful  fteps,  retires; 
And  now  Ulyffes  to  the  prize  alpire?. 

In  filence  thus  the  prudent  warrior  pray'd, 
And,  in  his  heart,  addrcffed  the  martial  maid  : 
Great  queen  of  arts !  on  thee  my'  hopes  depend : 
With  favour  to  thy  fupplianc's  fuit,  attend  i 
By  thce  my  infant  arms  were  taught  to  throw 
The  dart  with  certain  aim,  and  bend  the  bow: 
Oft  on  my  little  hands,  immortal  maid ! 
To  guide  the  (haft,  thy  mighty  hands  were  laid  : 
Now,  goddefs,  aid  me,  while  I  drive  for  fame  ; 
Wing  the  fwift  weapon,  and  affert  my  claim. 
He  pray'd  .  the  goddefs,  at  hisluit,  defcends; 
And  prefent  from  th'  Olympian  courts  attends. 
With  force  divine  his  manly  limbs  (he  ftrung, 
The  bow  he  rtrain'd  •  the  ftarting  arrow  fung ; 
As  when  the  fire  of  gods,  with  wrathful  hand, 
Drives  the  fwift  lightning  and  the  forked  brand, 
To  wafte  the  labours  of  the  careful  fwains, 
Coniume  the  mountain  flocks,  or  fcorch  the  plains; 
With  fudden  glare  appears  the  fiery  ray ; 
No  thought   can  trace  it  through  th'  ethereal 

way  : 

So  fwift  thy  winged  fhaft,  Ulyffes!  flew, 
Nor  could  the  following  eye  its  ipecd  purfue. 
The  flight  of  i'eucer's  arrow  far  furpafs' d, 
Upon  a  rural  heath  it  pitch'd  at  laft, 
'lo  Ceres  built;  where  Iwains,  in  early  fpiing, 
With  joy  were  wont  their  annual  gifts  to  bring; 
When  nrft  to  view,  above  the  furiowM  plain, 
With  picafing  verdure,  rofe  the  lprinj;in    grain. 
Mhroughall  the  noil  applauding  (houts  refoiuid} 
The  hills  repeat  them,  and  the  woods  around. 
The  bended  bow  bnid  .Merion  next  afl'umcs, 
A  (haft  felecls,  and  fmooths  its  purple  plumes : 
H=  plac'd  it  on  the  firing,  and  bending  low, 
With  all  his  lorcr  colle<ft,-d.  ftrain'd  the  bow. 
Up  the  light  air  the  ftarting  arrow  fprung ; 
The  luugu  bow  crack'd;  th:  twanging  cordjje 

fung-. 


THE   WORKS  0-7   WILKIE. 


Beyond  the  reach  of  fight  the  weapon  drove, 
And  tow'r'd  amid  th'  ethereal  fpace  above  : 
But  as  it  rofet  a  heron  crofs'd  before. 
From  inland  marfhes  fleering  to  the  Ihore; 
Under  the  wing  it  reach' d  her  with  a  wound ; 
Screaming,   fhe  wheel'd,    then    tumbled  to   the 

ground. 

And  thus  the  youth  :  Illuftrious  chiefs  !  I  claim, 
If  not  the  prize,  at  lead  fuperior  fame  : 
Ungovern'd  ftrength  alone  the  arrow  fends : 
To  nit  the  mark,  the  {hooter's  art  commends. 
In  mirthful  mood  the  hero  thus  addrefc'd ; 
And  all  their  favour  and  applaufe  exprefs'd. 

Ulyffes  !  take  the  bow,  Atrides  cries, 
The  filver  bowl,  brave  Teucer  !  be  thy  prize. 
In  ev'ry  art,  my  friends  !  you  all  excel ; 
And  each  deferves  a  prize  for  fhooting  well : 
JOT  .though  the  firft  rewards  the  victor's  claim, 
Glory  ye  merit  all,  and  Jafting  fame. 
He  faid  ;  and  pond'ring  in  his  grateful  mind, 
Diftinguifh'd  honours  for  the  dead  defign'd. 

Warriors  of  Greece,  and  valiant  aids  from  far, 
Our  firm  afibciates  in  the  works  of  war  ! 
Here  from  a  rock  the  Theban  ftream  defcends, 
And  to  a  lake  its  filver  current  fends ; 
Whofe  furface  fmooth,  unruffled  by  the  breeze, 
The  hills  inverted  fhows  and  downward  trees : 
Ye  daring  youths !  whofe  manly  limbs  divide 
The  mountain  furge,  and  brave  the  rufhing  tide  ; 
All  ye,  whom  hopes  of  victory  infpire, 
Stand  forth  diftinguiih'd  ;  let  the  crowd  retire. 
This  coftly  armour  {hall  the  youth  obtain, 
"Who  comes  victorious  from  the  wat'ry  plain ; 
That  ifland  compafs'd,  where  the  poplar  grows, 
And  in  the  lake  its  wav'ring  image  (hows, 
Who  meafuring  back  the  liquid  fpace,  before 
His  rivals,  fhall  regain  the  flow'ry  fhore. 
This  golden  bowl  is  fix'd  the  fecond  prize, 
F.flcem'd  alike  for  fafhion  and  for  fize. 

The  hero  thus  :  with  tliirft  of  glory  fir'd, 
Crete's  valiant  monarch  to  the  prize  afpir'd  ; 
With  Sparta's  younger  chief  ;  LHyfe*  came; 
And  brave  Clearchus  emulous  of  fame, 
A  wealthy  warrior  from  the  Samian  fhore, 
In  cattle  rich,  and  heaps  of  precious  ore  : 
Diftinguifh'd  in  the  midft  the  heroes  flood, 
r.nger  to  plunge  into  the  fhining  flood. 

His  brother's  ardour  purpos'd  to  reftrain, 
Atrides  ftrove,  and  counfell'd  thus  in  vain  : 
Defift,  my  Bother !  fhun  th.'  unequal  ftrife  ; 
For  late  you  flood  upon  the  verge  of  life  : 
No  mortal  man  his  vigour  can  retain, 
When  flowing  wounds  have  empty'd  ev'ry  vein. 
If  now  you  pcrifli  in  the  wat'ry  way, 
Grief  upon  grief  fhall  cloud  this  mournful  day: 
liefift,  refpecfl  my  counfel,  and  be  wife  ; 
Some  other  Spartan  in  your  place  will  rife. 
To  change  his  brother's  purpofe,  thus  he  try'd ; 
Eut  nothing  mov'd:   the  gen'rous  youth  reply'd: 
Brother  !  in  vain  you  urge  me  to  forbear, 
From  love  and  fond  aficclion  prompt  to  fear ; 
For.  firm,  as  e'er  before,  my  limbs  remain, 
To  dafh  the  fluid  waves,  or  fcour  the  plain. 

He  faid,  and  went  before.     The  heroes  move 
To  the  dark  covert  of  a  neighb'ring  grove ; 
Which  to  the  bauk  its  fhady  walk  extends, 
Whore  maing  with  the  hkc  a  riv'let  ends. 


Prompt  to  contend,  their  purple  robes  they  loofcf 
Their  figur'd  vefls  and  gold  embroider 'dJhoes  ; 
And  through  the  grove  defcending  to  the  ftrand. 
Along  the  flow'ry  bank  in  order  iland. 
As  when.,  in  fome  fair  temple's  facred  fhrine, 
A  flatue  {lands,  exprefs'd  by  fkill  divine, 
Apollo's  or  »he  herald  powr's,  who  brings 
Jove's  mighty  mandates  on  his  airy  wings  ; 
The  form  majeftic  awes  the  bending  crowd  : 
In  port  and  ftature  fuch,  the  heroes  flood. 

Surting  at  once,  with  equal  ftrokes,  they  fwcef 
The  fmooth  expanfe,  and  fhoot  into  the  deep ; 
The  Cretan  chief,  exerting  all  his  force, 
His  rivals  far  furpafs'd,  and  led  the  courfe  ; 
Behind  Atrides,  emulous  of  fame  ; 
Clearchus  next,  and  laft  Ulyfles  came. 
And  now  they  meafur'd  back  the  wat'ry  fpace, 
And  faw  from  far  the  limits  of  the  race, 
Ulyfles  then  with  third  of  glory  fir'd, 
The  Samian  left,  and  to  the  prize  afpir'd  ; 
Who,  emulous,  and  dreading  to  be  laft, 
With  equal  fpeed  the  Spartan  hero  pafs'd. 
Alarm'd,  the  Cretan  monarch  ftrove,  with  pain, 
His  doubtful  hopes  of  conqueft  to  maintain  ; 
Exerting  ev'ry  nerve,  his  limbs  he  ply'd, 
And  wiihing,  from  afar  the  fhore  defcry'd  > 
For  near  and  nearer  flill  Ulyfles  prell ; 
The  waves  he  felt  rebounding  from  his  bfeaft. 
With  equal  zeal  for  victory  they  ftrove ; 
When,  glidding  fudden  from  the  roofs  of  Jove^ 
Pallas  approach'd  ;  behind  a  cloud  conceal'd, 
Ulyfles  only  faw  her  form  reveal'd. 
Majeftic  by  the  hero's  fide  fhe  flood  ; 
Her  fhining  fandals  prefs'd  the  trembling  flood. 
She  whifper'd  foft,  as  when  the  wellern  breeze 
Stirs  the  thick  reeds,  or  fhakcs  the  ruftling  trees  :• 
Still  fhall  thy  foul,  with  endlefs  thirft  of  fame, 
Afpire  to  victory,  in  ev'ry  game. 
The  honours,  which  from  bones  and  finews  rife, 
Are  lightly  valu'd  by  the  good  and  wife : 
I'o  envy  ftill  they  roufe  the  human  kind  ; 
And  oft,  than  courted,  better  far  declin'd. 
To  brave  Idomeneus  yield  the  race  ; 
Contented  to  obtain  the  fecond  place. 
The  goddefs  thus :  while  ftretching  to  the  land, 
With  joy  the  Cretan  chief  approach'd  the  ftrand  ; 
Ulyfles  next  arriv'd  ;  and,  fpent  with  toil, 
The  weary  Samian  grafp'd  the  welcome  foil. 

But  fjr  behind  the  Spartan  warrior  lay, 
Fatigu'd,  and  fainting,  in  the  wat'ry  way. 
Thrice  flruggling,  from  the  lake,  his  head  he" 

rear'd ; 

And  thrice,  imploring  aid,  his  voice  was  heard. 
The  Cretan  monarch  haftes  the  youth  to  fave, 
And  Ithacus  again  divides  the  wave  ; 
With  force  renew'd  their  manly  limbs  they  ply ; 
And  from  their  breafU  the  whit'ning  billows  fly. 
Full  in  the  midft  a  rocky  ifle  divides 
The  liquid  fpace,  and  parts  the  Clver  tides ; 
Once  cultivated,  now  with  thickets  green 
O'erfpread,  two  hillocks,  and  a  vale  between,- 
Here  dwelt  an  aged  fwain ;  his  cottage  flood 
Under  the  cliffs,  encompafs'd  by  a  wood. 
From  poverty  fecure,  he  heard  afar, 
In  peace  profound,  the  tumults  of  the  war. 
Mending  a  net  before  his  rural  gate, 
From  other  toils  repos'd  the  pcafact  fat  ;. 


SPIGONIAD,   BOOK  V. 


When  firft  the  Toice  of  Men  elans  came, 
By  ev'ning  breezes  wafted  from  the  ilream. 
Haft'ning,  his  fkiff  he  loos'd,  and  fpread  the  fail ; 
Some  prefent  god  fupply'd  a  profp'rous  gale  : 
For  as  the  Spartan  chief,  with  toil  fubdu'd, 
Hopclefs  of  life,  was  finking  in  the  flood ; 
The  Twain  approach'^,  and  in  his  barge  receiv'd 
Him  fafe  from  danger  imminent  retriev'd. 

Upon  a  willow's  trunk  Therfites  fat, 
Contempt  and  laughter  fated  to  create, 
Where,  bending  from  a  hollow  bank  it  hung, 
And  rooted  to  the  mould'ring  furface  clung ; 
He  faw  Atrides  fafe :  and  thus  aloud, 
With  leer  malign,  addrcfs'd  the  liil'ning  crowd. 
Here  on  the  fiow'ry  turf  a  hearth  fhall  ftand ; 
A  hecatomb  the  fav'ring  gods  demand, 
Who  fav'd  Atrides  in  this  dire  debate, 
And  fnatch'd  the  hero  from  the  jaws  of  fate  : 
Without  his  aid  we  all  might  quit  the  field ; 
UJyfles,  Ajax,  and  Tydides,  yield  : 
His  mighty  arm  alone  the  hoft  defends, 
But  dire  difafter  ftill  the  chief  attends: 
Laft  fun  beheld  him  vanquifli'd  on  the  plain  ; 
Then  warriors  fav'd  him,  now  a  ftiepherd  fwain.  • 
Defend  him  ftill  from  perfecuting  fate  ! 
Proted  the  hero  who  protects  the  ftate  ; 
In  martial  conflicts  watch  with  prudent  fear, 
And,  when  he  fwims,  let  help  be  always  near  !  • 
He  faid ;  and,  fcorn  and  laughter  to  excite, 
His  features  foul  he  writh'd,  with  envious  fpite, 
Smiling    contempt  ;     and    pleas'd    his    ranc'rous 

heart 

With  aiming  thus  oblique  a  venom'd  dart. 
But  joy'd  not  long ;  for  foon  the  faithlefs  wood, 
Strain'd  from  the  root,  refigu'd  him  to  the  flood. 
Plunging  and  fputt'ring  as  his  arms  he  fpread, 
A  load  of  foil  came  thund'ring  on  his  head, 
Slipt  from  the  bank :   along  the  winding  fhore, 
With  laughter  loud  he  heard  the  echoes  roar, 
When  from  the  lake  his  crooked  form  he  rear'd, 
With  horror  pale,  with  blotting  clay  beimear'd ; 
Then  clamb'ring  by  the  trunk,  in  fad  difmuy, 
Which  half  immers'd  with  all  its  branches  lay, 
Confounded,  to  the  tents  he  flculk'd  along, 
Amid  the  fliouts  and  infults  of  the  throng. 

Now  cloth'd  in  public  view  the  heroes  Hand, 
With  fceptres  grac'd  the  enfi<nis  of  command. 
The  Cretan  monarch,  as  his  prize,  aflumes 
The  poiifh'd  helmet,  crovvn'd  with  waving  plumes, 
The  filver  mail,  the  buckler's  weighfy  round, 
Th'  embroider'd  belt,  with  golden  buckles  bound. 
The  fccond  prize  Laertes'  fon  receiv'd, 
With  lefs  applaufe  from  multitudes  deceiv'd; 
The  firfl  he  could  have  purchas'd ;  but  declin'd, 
And  yielded,  to  the  martial  maid  refign'd. 

Thus  they.      The  Thebans,    near  the  cailern 

gate» 

Around  their  pyres  in  filcnt  forrow  wait : 
Hopelefs  and  fad  they  mourn'd  their  heroes  flain, 
The  bell  and  braved  on  their  native  plain. 
The  king  himfelf,  in  deeper  forrow,  mourn'd; 
With  rage  and  mingled  grief  his  bofom  burn'd. 
Like  the  grim  lion,  when  his  offspring  fluin 
He  fees,  and  round  him  drawn  the  hunter's  train ; 
Couch'd  in  the  fhade  with  fell  intent  he  lies, 
And  glares  upon  the  foes  with  burning  eyes : 
Such  Creon  feem'd  :  hot  indignation  drain'd 
Grief's  wat'ry  fources,  and  their  flow  reftraia'd. 


Upon  a  turret  o'er  the  gate  he  flood, 
And  faw  the  Argives,  like  a  fliady  wood, 
Extended  wide;  and  dreading  fraud  defign'd, 
Still  to  the  plain  his  watchful  eyes  confin'd, 
Sulpicious  from  his  hatred,  and  the  pow'r 
Of  rcftlefs  paflions,  which  his  heart  devour : 
And  when  at  ev'n's  approach  the  hoft  retir'd, 
And  from  the  labours  of  the  day  refpir'd, 
Within  the  walls  he  drew  his  maitial  pow'rs, 
And   kept  with   ftridcft   watch   the    gate*   a*4 
tow'rs. 

Soon  as  the  night  pofleft  th'  ethereal  plain, 
And  o'er  the  nations  ftretch'd  her  filcnt  reign. 
The  guards  were  plac'd,  and  to  the  gentle  fway 
Of  fleep  fubdu'd,  the  weary  warriors  lay. 
Tydides  only  wak'd,  by  anxious  care 
Diftraded,  ftill  he  mourn'd  his  abfent  fair, 
Deeming  her  loft  ;  his  flighted  counfel  mov'd 
Lafting  refcntment,  and  the  truce  approv'd  ; 
Contending  paflions  fliook  his  mighty  frame ; 
As  warring  winds  impel  the  ocean's  ftream, 
When  fouth  and  call  with  mingled  rage  con. 

tend, 

And  in  a  tempeft  on  the  deep  defcend : 
Now,  ftretch'd  upon  the  couch,  fupine  he  lay; 
Then,  rifing  anxious,  wifli'd  the  morning  ray. 
Impatient  thus,  at  laft,  his  turbid  mind, 
By  various  counsels  varioufly  inelin'd, 
The  chief  addreil :  Or  fliall  I  now  read 
Th'  ./Etolian  warriors  from  the  Thcban  wall; 
Obey  the  warning  by  a  goddefs  giv'n, 
Nor  flight  her  counfel  dictated  from  heav'n  ? 
Or  fliall  I  try,  by  one  deciding  blow, 
The  war  at  once  to  end,  and  crufh  the  foe  ? 
This  pleafes  moft  ;  nor  fliall  the  voice  of  fame 
The  daring  deed,  in  after  ages,  blame. 
No  truce  I  fwore,  but  fhur.n'd  it,  and  remov'i!, 
Alone  diflenting  while  the  reft  approv'd. 
Soon  as  the  morn,  with  early  light  reveal' d, 
Has  call'd  the  Thcban  warriors  to  the  field; 
Againft  the  town  I'll  lead  my  martial  pow'rs. 
And  fire  with  flaming  brands  her  hated  tow'r» : 
1'he  bane  of  Greece,  whence  dire  debate  arofe 
To  bid  the  peaceful  nations  firft  be  foes; 
Where  Tydeus  fell,  and  many  heroes  more, 
Banifh'd  untimely  to  the  Stygian  fhore. 
The  public  voice  of  Greece  for  vengeance  calls  j 
And  fliall  applaud  the  ftroke  by  whioi  flic  fall*. 
He  purpose  :  but  the  gods,  who  honour  right, 
Dcny'd  to  treafon  what  is  due  to  might. 

When  from  the  eaft  appear'd  the  morning  fair, 
The  Thtban  warriors  to  the  woods  repair, 
Fearlefs,  unarm'd  ;  with  many  a  harnefs'd  wain, 
The  woody  heights  were  crowded  and  the  plain. 
Tydides  faw ;  and,  ifluing  from  his  tent, 
In  arms  complete,  to  call  his  warriors,  went. 
Their  leader's  martial  voice  the  foldiers  heard 
Each  in  his  tent,  and  at  the  call  appear'd 
In  fliining  arms.    Deiphobus  began, 
For  virtue  fam'd,  a  venerable  man. 
Him  Tydeus  lov'd  ;  and  in  his  faithful  hand 
Had  plac'd  the  fccptre  of  fupremc  command, 
To  riile  the  ftate ;  when,  from  his  native  tow'r*, 
To  Thebes  the  hero  led  his  martial  pow'rs ; 
His  fon,  an  infant,  to  his  care  refign'd. 
With  fage  advice  to  form  his  tender  mind. 
The  hero  thus:  Illuftrious  chief!  declare 
What  you  intend,  and  whither  point  UK  *«r. 


THE   WORKS   OF 


The  truce  commehc'd,  you  cannot,  and  be  juft, 
The  Thebans  now  affault,  who  freely  truft 
To  public  faith  engag'd  :  unarm'd  they  go 
Far  through  the  woods  and  plains,  nor  fear  a  foe. 

His  leader's  purpofe  thus  the  warror  try'd  ; 
And,  inly  vex'd,  Tydides  thus  reply'd : 
Father  !  thy  words  from  ignorance  proceed ; 
The  truce  I  fwore  not.  nor  approv'd  the  deed.' 
The  reft  are  bound,  and  therefore  mult  remain 
lang'ring  inactive  on  this  hoftile  plain  . 
The  works  of  war  abandon'd,  let  them  fhed 
Their  unavailing  forrows  o'er  the  dead : 
Or  aim  the  dart,  or  hurl  the  difk  in  air  ; 
Some  paltry  prefents  fhall  the  victor  fhare. 
Warriors  we  came,  in  nsbler  ftrifes  to  dare; 
To  fight  and  conquer  in  the  lifts  of  war; 
To  conquer  Thebes :  and  Jove  himfelf  ordains, 
With  wreaths  of  triumph,  to  reward  our  pains. 
Wide  to  receive  us  ftand  the  Theban  gates ; 
A  fpacious  entry,  open'd  by  the  fates, 
To  take  deftruction  in  ;  their  turrets  (land 
Defencelefs,  and  expect  the  flaming  brand. 
Now  let  us  fnatch  th'  occaCon  while  we  may, 
Years  wafte  in  vain,  and  perifh  by  delay, 
That  Thebes  overthrown,  our  tedious  toils  may 

ceafe, 
And  we  behold  our  native  walls  in  peace. 

Tydides  thus  :  the  ancient  warrior  burns 
With  indignation  juft,  and  thus  returns  : 
O  foil !  unworthy  of  th'  illuftrious  line 
From  which  you  fpring  :   your  fire's  reproach  and 

mine  ! 

Did  I  e'er  teach  you  juftiee  to  difclaim ; 
And  fteal,  by  treachery,  difhonefl  fame  ? 
The  truce  fubfifts  with  all  the  reft ;  are  we 
Alone  exccpted,  unengag'd  and  free  ? 
Why,  warriors !  do  not  then  thele  hoftile  tow'rs, 
.Againft  us  fend  at  once  their  martial  pow'rs  ? 
And  are  we  fafe  but  that  the  treaty  (lands, 
And  from  unequal  force  protects  our  bands  ? 
In  this  our  foes  confide ;  the  dead  they  burn, 
Ana  mix  with  tears  their  afhes  in  the  urn. 
Their  tow'rs   defencelefs,    and   their    gates  un- 

Barr'd, 

Shall  we  with  wrongs  their  confidence  reward  ? 
No  ;  though  each  warrior  of  this  num'rous  band 
Should  yield  to  execute  what  you  command  ; 
Yet  would  not  I,  obedient  to  thy  will, 
Blot  my  long  labours  with  a  deed  fo  ill. 
Whatever  hard  or  dang'rous  you  propofe, 
Though  old  and  weak,  I  fliun  not,  nor  oppofe  : 
But  what  the  gods  command  us  to  forbear, 
The  prudent  will  avoid,  the  braveft  fe&r. 
He  faid  ;  and  to  the  ground  his  buckler  flung ; 
On  the  hard  foil  the  brazen  orbit  rung : 
The  reft  approving,  dropt  upon  the  field 
His  pond'rous  jav'iin,  each,  and  fhining  fhield. 
The  warlike  fon  of  Tydeus  ftraight  refign'd, 
To  dire  difordcr,  all  his  mighty  mind, 
And  fudden  wrath  ;  as  when  the  troubled  air, 
From  kindled  lightning  fhmes  with  fiery  glare : 
With  fury  fo  inflam'd,  the  hero  burn'd, 

nd  frowning  to  Deiphobus  retu'rn'd  •. 
I   know   thee,   wretch!    and  mark  thy  conftant 

aim, 

To  teach  the  hoft  their  leader  thus  to  blame. 
Long  have  !  borne  your  pride,  your  reverend  age 
A  guardian's  name,  fupprefs'd  my  kindling  rage : 


WILKIE. 

Jut  to  protect  your  infolence,  no  more 
shall  thele  avail,  and  fcrecn  it  as  before. 

He  faid ;  and  more  his  fury  to  provoke, 
Replying  thus,  the  aged  warrior  (poke  : 
Vain  youth  !  unmov'd  thy  angry  threats  I  hear ; 
When  tyrants  threaten,  (laves  alone  fhould  fear  : 
To  me  is  ev'ry  iervile  part  unknown, 
To  glory  in  a  Imile,  or  fear  a  frown, 
four  mighty  fire  I  knew  by  counfel  rul'd  ; 
•iis  fierceft  traniports  fober  reafon  cool'd. 
But  wild  and  lawlefs,  like  the  ftermy  wind, 
The  fport  of  paffion,  impotent  and  blind, 
The  delp'rate  paths  of  folly  you  purfue, 
And  fcorn  inftruction  with  a  lofty  brow  : 
Yet  know,  proud  prince!  my  purpofe  1  retai::, 
And  fee  thy  threat'ning  eye-balls  roll  in  vain : 
Mever,  obfequious  to  thy  mad  command, 
Againft  the  foe  1  lift  a  hoftile  hand  ; 
Till,  righteoufly  fulfill'd,  the  truce  expires 
Which  heav'n  has  witnefs'd  and  the  facred  fires, 
He  (aid  ;  and,  by  his  (harp  reproaches  ftung. 
With  fudden  hand,  his  lance  the  hero  flung : 
I  oo  fure  the  aim  ;  h.s  faithful  friend  it  found, 
And  open'd  in  his  fide  a  deadly  wound  : 
Stagg'ring  he  fell;  and,  on  the  verge  of  death, 
[n  words  like  thcfe" refign'd  his  parting  breath  : 
O  Diomed,  my  fon  !  for  thee  I  fear  : 
Sure  heav'n  is  angry,  and  its  vengeance  near: 
For  whom  the  gods  diftinguifh  by  their  haw, 
Themfelves  are  made  the  miniflers  of  "fate  ; 
For  from  their  fide,  the  deftin''d  victims  drive 
Their  friends  intent  to  fuccour  and  retrieve. 
Ere  yet  their  vengeance  falls,  the  pow'rs  invoke, 
While  usinflicted  hangs  the  fatal  ftroke ; 
And  rule  the  tranfports  of  your  wrath,  left  fear 
Make  found  advice  a  ftrangcr  to  your  ear. 
Speaking  he  dy'd  ;  his  gen'rous  fpirit  fled 
To  mix  with  heroes  in  th'  Elyfian  fhade. 

Amaz'd,  at  firft,  th'  ./Etolian  warriors  flood  ; 
No    voice,    no    action,    through    the    wond'ring 

crowd ; 

Silent  they  ftood,  like  rows  of  forcft  trees, 
When  Jove's  dread  thunder  quells  the  fummer 

breeze  : 

But  foon  on  ev'ry  fide  a  tumult  rofe, 
Loud  as  the  oc<_:ui  when  a  tempeft  blows: 
Diforder  wild  the  mingling  ranks  confounds, 
The  voice  of  forrow  mix'd  with  angry  founds. 
On  ev'ry  fide  againft  the  chief  appears 
A  brazen  bulwark,  rais'd  of  fhields  and  fpears, 
Fail  clofing  round.     But  from  his  thigh  he  drew 
His  fhining  blade,  und  on  the  phalanx  flew  ; 
With  geftare  fierce  the  threat'ning  fteel  he  wav'd; 
Bat  check' d  its  Jury,  and  the  people  fav'd  . 
A-  the  good  fhepherd  (pares  his  tender  flock, 
And  lightens,  when  he  ftrikes,  the  falling  crook. 
The  crowd  dividing,  fhunn'd  the  hero's  ire  ; 
As  :'rom  a  lion'*  rage  the  fwains  retire, 
When  dreadful  o'er  the  mangled  prey  he  ftands, 
By  brandifh'd  darts  unaw'd  and  flaming  brands. 
And  row  the  iiaine  of  fudden  rage  fuppreft, 
Remorfe  and  forrow  ftung  the  hero's  brealh. 
D'.ftracted  through  the  fcattci  ing  crowd  he  went, 
And  fou-ght  the'dark  recefles  of  his  tent ; 
H>,  enter'd  :  but  the  menial  fervants,  bred 
T'>  wait  his  coming,  ftraight  with  horror  fled. 
A^ainfi  the  ground  he  dalh'd  his  bloody  dart; 
And  utter'  J  thus  the  iwelibgs  of  his  heart : 


E  PIG  ONI  AD,   BooitV. 


Vttiy  fly  my  warriors?  why  the  menial  train, 
Who  joy'd  before  to  meet  me  from  the  plain, 
Why  fhun  they  nqw  their  lord's  approach,  nor 

bring, 

To  wafh  my  bloody  hands,  the  cleanfing  fpring  ? 
Too  well,  alas !  my  fatal  rage  they  know, 
To  them  more  dreadful  now  than  to  the  foe ; 
No  enemy,  alas  !  this  fpear  has  ftain'd, 
With  hoftile  gore  in  glorious  battle  drain'd : 
My  guardian's  blood  it  fhows,  whofe  hoary  hairs 
Still  watch'd  my  welfare  with  a  father's  cares. 
Thou  Pow'r  fupreme  !  whofc  unrefifted  fway 
The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey  ! 
If  wife  and  good,  why  did  thy  hand  impart 
So  fierce  an  impulfe  to  this  bounding  heart  ? 
By  fury  rul'd,  and  impotent  of  mind, 
No  awe  reftrains  me,  and  no  tie  can  bind : 
Hence,  by  the  madaefs  of  my  rage  o'erthrown, 
My  father's  friend  lies  murder'd,  and  my  own. 
He  faid  ;  and,  yielding  to  his  fierce  defpair, 
With  both  his  hands  he  rent  his  rooted  hair; 
And,  where  his  locks  in  fliining  ringlets  grew, 
A  load  of  afhes  from  the  hearth  he  threw, 
Rolling  in  duft  :  but  now  around  the  flain 
His  warriors  flood,  affembled  on  the  plain ; 
For  total  infurrecSlion  ripe  they  flood  ; 
Their  angry  murmurs  rofe  to  tumult  loud. 

Ulyffes  foon  the  dire  diforder  heard, 
And  prefent  to  explore  the  caufe  appear'd : 
The  hero  came,  and,  'midfl  the  warriors,  found 
Deiphobus  extended  on  the  ground. 
A  flood  of  forrow  ftarted  to  his  eyes, 
But  foon  he  check'd  each  fymptom  of  furprife 
"With  prudent  care, while  prefling  round  the  chief 
Each  ftrove  to  fpeak  the  univerfal  grief: 


Their  mingled  fpears  in  wild  diforder  fhook, 
Like  the  fharp  reeds  along  fome  winding  brook  • 
When  through  the  leaflefs  woods  the  north  wind 

blows, 

Parent  of  ice  and  thick  defcending  fnows : 
Now  fell  revenge  had  bath'd  in  ftreams  of  blood. 
And  pow'r  in  vain  her  delp'rate  comic  with- 

flood: 

But  Ithacus,  well  fkill'd  in  ev'ry  art 
To  fix  or  change  each  purpofe  of  the  heart, 
Their  ftern  decrees  by  loft  perfuafion  broke, 
And  anfw'ring,  thus  with  prudent  purpofe  fpokc ; 
Warriors !  your  gen'rous  rage  approve  I  muft; 
Dire  was  the  deed,  the  purpos'd  vengeance  jufl : 
But,  when  the  kings  in  full  aflembly  fit, 
To  them  the  crime  and  punifhment  commit : 
For  ralh  procedure  wrongs  the  faireft  cauie, 
And  private  juftice  Hill  infults  the  laws. 
Now  to  your  tents  your  fhields  and  lances  bear : 
Thefeus  expecls  os,  and  the  hour  is  near : 
The  altars  flame,  the  priefls  in  order  {land, 
With  facrifice,  to  hallow  ev'ry  band : 
But  to  the  covert  of  a  tent  convey, 
Sav'd  from  the  fcorching  winds  and  folar  ray, 
Thefe  dear  remains  ;  till  Thefeus  has  decreed 
Diftinguifli'd  obfequies  to  grace  the  dead. 
The  hero  thus  ;  and  from  his  fhoulders  tlirew 
The  regal,  cloak  of  gold,  and  fhining  blue, 
Which  o'er  the  flain  with  prudent  care  he  fpread, 
His  ghaftly  features  from  the  crowd  to  (hade. 
Thrice  to  his  eyes  a  flood  of  forrow  came ; 
Thrice  on   the  brink  he  check'd  the  gufhing 

flream 

In  aft  to  flow ;  his  rifing  fighs  fuppreft ; 
Patient  of  grief,  he  lock'd  it  in  his  breafl. 


BOOK     VI. 


To  fad  defpair  th'  ./Ktolian  chief  refign'd, 
And  dire  remorfe,  which  flung  his  tortur'd  mind, 
From  early  dawn  in  duft  extended  lay, 
By  all  abanden'd  till  the  fetting  ray. 
'Twas  then  Caffandra  came  ;  and.  at  the  door. 
Thrice  call'd  her  lord  :  he  flarted  from  the  floor: 
In  fuilen  majefty  his  chair  of  ftate, 
Full  in  the  midft  cppofed  to  the  gate, 
The  hero  prefs'd  :  the  anxious  maid  drew  near, 
By  icve  excited,  and  reftrain'd  by  fear  : 
Trembling  before  the  chief  fhe  ftood,  and  held  ^ 
A  bowl  of  wine  with  temp'ring  mixtures  quell'd? 
The  fragrant  juice  which  fam'd  Thefprotia  yields, 
The  vintage  of  her  cliffs  and  funny  fields. 
And  thus  :  Dread  lord !  rejedl  not  with  Jifdaia 
A  prefent  offer'd  by  a  humble  fwain. 
This  bowl  receive,  of  gentle  force  tp  charm 
Diftrefs,  and  of  its  rigour  grief  difarm. 
How  vain  to  grieve  for  ever  for  the  paft ! 
Kb  hour  recals  the  a&ions  of  the  laft : 
Nor  graans,  nor  fighs,  nor  ftreams  of  forrow  fhed, 
From  their  long  flumber  can  awake  the  dead. 
When  death's  ilern  pow'r  his  iron  fceptre  lays 
On  the  cold  1^  thw  vital  fpirit  ft  rays 
VOL.  XI. 


To  worlds  unknown  :  nor  can  the  dead  perceive 
The  tears  of  friends  or  lovers  when  they  grieve. 

To  footh  his  paffion,  thus  the  virgin  try'd ; 
With  wonder  thus  th'  ./Etolian  chief  reply'd  : 
Say  who  you  are,  who  thus  approach  my  feat, 
Unaw'd  by  good  Deiphobus's  fate  ? 
When  all  avoid  my  prefence,  nor  appear, 
By  indignation  banifh'd,  or  by  fear. 
What  is  thy  name  ?  what  deed  of  mine  could  faini 
To  friendfhip  fo  unchang'd  thy  conftant  mind ; 
Still  to  furvive  the  horror  of  a  crime, 
Whofe  colour  blots  the  regifters  of  time  ? 

The  hero  thus :  Caffandra  thus  replies ; 
Iphicles  is  my  name  ;  my  country  lie* 
Where  Antirrihum's  rocky  fhores  divide, 
Extended  in  the  deep  th'  Ionian  tide. 
There  dwells  my  fire,  poffcfl  of  ample  ftore. 
In  flocks  and  herds,  and  gold's  refulgent  ore. 
Oeneus  his  name  :  his  veffels  on  the  main, 
From  rich  Hefperia  waft  him  yearly  gain. 
And  that  fam'd  land,  whofe  promontories  run 
Far  to  the  weft,  beneath  the  letting  fun ; 
Where  ev'ry  cliff  with  veins  of  filver  gleam*, 
And  fund*  of  gold,  lie  glitt'ring  in  the  ftrcann. 
V 


tHE  WORfcS  OF 


In"  Hymen's  facred  ties  two  fons  he  bred, 
Me,  and  irty  valiant  brother  Lycomed. 
The  youngeft  I,  was  charg'd  his  flocks  to  keep: 
ftly  brother  rul'd  his  galleys  on  the  deep. 
Once  as  he  left  Iberia's  wealthy  fliore, 
With  Boetic  fleeces  fraught  and  precious  ore  ; 
Phoenician  pirates  waited  on  the  ftrand, 
Where  high  Pachynus  ftretches  from  the  land ; 
In  that  fam'd  ifle  where  ./Etna  lifts  his  fpires, 
With  fmoke   obfctire,  and  blows  his  fulph'rous 

fires. 

feehind  the  cliffs  conceal'd,  the  treaeh'rous  band 
Warted  the  Greeks,  defcending  on  the  ftrand  : 
My  brother  there  with  twenty  youths  they  flew ; 
Their  fudden  arrows  from  an  ambfifh  flew. 
Dire  was  the  deed :  and  ftill  my  farrows  ftream, 
Whene'er  that  argument  of  woe  I  name, 
And  grief  prevails  ;  but  in  your  pf  efence  moft ; 
You  ftill  recal  the  brother  whom  I  loft : 
For  futh  he  was  in  lineaments  of  face, 
In  martial  ftature,  and  majeftic  grace ; 
Though  lefs  in  all ;  in  form  inferior  far; 
And  ftill,  though  valiant,  lefs  in  works  of  war. 
Hence,  deeply  rooted  in  my  eonftant  heart, 
You  challenge,  as  your  own,  a  brother's  part  •• 
And  I  alone,  of  all  the  hofl,  remain 
To  fhare  youf  grief  and  fuffer  in  your  pain. 

Thus  fey  an  artful  tale,  the  virgin  ftrove 
To  fhun  difcov'ry,  and  conceal  her  love, 
Yet  ftill  her  looks,  her  geftures,  all  exprefs'd 
The  maid  ;  her  love  in  blufhes  ftood  confefs'd. 
Tydides  faw ;  and  quickly,  to  his  thought, 
Each  cireumftsnce  the  fair  Gaflandra  brought. 
Silent  he  fat ;  and  fix'd  in  deep  furprife, 
Her  flufhing  features  mark'd  and  do'wncaft  eyes. 
He  thus  reply 'd  :  The  native  truth  reveal, 
And,  what  I  afk  you,  hope  not  to  conceal. 
Or  fhall  I  credit  what  you  now  have  faid, 
Oen^asyour  fire,  your  brother  Lycomed  ? 
Or  art  thou  flie,  whofe  beauty  firft  did  move, 
Within  my  peaceful  breaft,  the  rage  of  love  ? 

With  look  and  voice  fevere  the  hero  fpoke. 
Aw'd  and  abafh'd,  the  confcious  virgin  fhook ; 
She  dropt  the  filver  goblet  on  the  ground  ; 
The  fragrant  liquor  drench'd  the  pavement  round. 
And  thus  Tydides  with  a  frown  addrefs'd  : 
Thy  a'rt  is  ufekfs,  and  the  truth  confefs'd ; 
Nor  can  that  fair  difguife  of  martial  arms, 
And  nrale  attfre,  conceal  thy  fatal  charms. 
Thofe  eyes  I  fc'e,  whofe  foft  enchantment  ftole 
My  peace,  and  ftirr'd  a  tcmpeft  in  my  foul : 
By  their  mild  fight,  in  innocence-array'd, 
To  guilty  madnefs  was  my  heart  betray'd. 
Deiphobus  is  dead ;  his  mournful  ghoft, 
Lamenting,  wanders  on  the  Stygian  coaft, 
And  blames  my  wrath.    Oh  !  that  the  fun  which 

gave 

Light  to  thy  birth,  had  fet  upon  thy  grave  ; 
And  he  had  liv'd  !  now  lifelefs  on  the  plain 
A  corfe  he  lies,  and  number'd  with  the  {lain. 

The  hero  ended  thus  ;  with  melting  eye, 
The  virgin  turn'd,  unable  to  reply. 
In  forrow  graceful,  as  the  queen  of  love 
"Who  mourn'd  Adonis  in  the  Syrian  grove, 
Confounded  and  abafh'd,  (he  left  the  tent, 
And  through  the  hoft  in  filent  anguifh  went, 
Far  to  the  left ;  where,  in  a  lonely  wood, 
To  Certi  built,  a  rural  temple  ftood} 


By  fwains  frequented  once,  but  now  the  ptec«- 
Onfightly  fhrubs  o'erfpread  and  weeds  difgraee* 
Thither  Caffandra  went ;  and  at  the  fhrine, 
With  fuppliant  voice  addrefs'd  the  pow'r  divine* 
Hear  me,  dread  genius  of  this  facred  grove  ! 
Let  my  complaints  thy  fov'reign  pity  move; 
To  feek  the  friendly  fhelter  of  thy  dome, 
With  h<rart  unftain'd,  and  guiltlefs  hands,  I  come? 
Love  is  my  crime  ;  and,  in  thy  rural  feat, 
From  infamy  I  feek  a  fafe  retreat. 
By  blame  unmerited,  and  cold  neglect, 
Banifh'd  1  come  ;  receive  me,  and  protect  \ 
She  prary'd  ;  and,  ent'rkig,  'gainft  a  pillar  fcai  J 
Her  lance,  aftd  on  the  floor  her  armour  laid. 
Then  falling  proftrate  poar'd  a  fiood  of  tearsj 
With  prefent  ills  opprefs'd,  and  future  fears. 

'Twas  then  the  herald  of  the  queen  of  lovey 
Zelotype",  dcfcended  in  the  grove, 
By  Venus  fent  ;  but  ftill  her  counfeh  fail'd ; 
And  Pallas  witkluperior  fway  prevail'd  : 
The  phantom  enter'd,  and  affum'd  a  form, 
Pale  as  the  moon  appearing  through  a  ftorm; 
In  Amyclea's  fhape  difguis'd  fhe  came ; 
The  fame  her  afpect.and  her  voice  the  fame. 
Caffaridra  faw  ;  a  fndden  horror  froze 
Her  vein* ;  erecT:  her  parted  locks  arofe, 
Stirr'd  from  the  root '.  impatient  thus  the  maid, 
With  trembling  Irps,  in  fault'ring  accents,  faid  : 
My  lov'd,  my  honour'd  parent !  have  my  groansy 
From   death's  deep  flumber,  rous'd   thy  facred 

bones : 

I  hop'd  that  nothing  coiild  your  peace  moleft, 
Nor  mortal  cares  difturb  eternal  reft  ; 
That,  fafe  for  ever  on  th'  Elyfian  fhore, 
You  heard  of  human  mifery  no  more. 

Caffandra  thus :  and  thus  the  Paphian  maid: 
Your  gen'rous  love,  my  child,  is  ill  repaid; 
Your  griefs  I  feel,  and  bear  a  parent's  part, 
Though   blood  no  more   returns  to  warm  raj 

heart ; 

And  that,  which  firft  your  mortal  being  bred, 
To  duft  lies  mould'ring,  in  its  earthy  bed. 
To  Calydon,  my  child,  with  fpeed  return  ; 
Your  father  grieves,  your  gay  companions  mourn  ;. 
He  deems  you  loft,  and  defp'rate-of  hisftate, 
By  grief  fubdu'd,  invokes  his  ling'ring  fate : 
Inccffaht  tears  bedew  his  wrinkled  face, 
And  afhes  foul  his  hoary  locks  difgrace. 
R-.-turn,  return  !  nor  let  misjudging  pride, 
With  further  errors,  ftrive  the  paft  to  hide. 
Return,  once  more  to  blefs  his  aged  eyes, 
Or,  by  your  guilty  ftay  a  parent  dies. 

She  ended  thus.    Her  arms  Caffandra  fpread 
To  fold,  m  clofe  embrace,  the  parting  fhade ; 
In  vain :  for,  ftarting  from  her  grafp,  it  flew, 
And,  gliding   through    the    fhady    walks,    with 
drew. 

The  virgin  now  awaits  the  rifing  morn, 
With  purpofe  fix'd  impatient  to  return  : 
And  when,  through  broken  clouds,  a  glimm'ring 

ray 

Of  early  dawn  foretold  approaching  day ; 
The  fpear  fhe  grafp'd,  and  on  hef  temples  plac'd 
The  golden  cafque,  with  various  plumage  grac'dj 
Tydides'  gift ;  when  in  the  ranks  of  fight 
The  brave  Clytander  funk  beneath  his  might. 
The  gods  fhe  call'd ;  and,  bending  to  the  ground, 
Their  aid  invok'd  with  reverence  profound. 


EPIGONIAD,  BOOK  VI. 


Then  left  the  dome  ;  and  where  Ifmenus  ftrays, 
Windihg  through  thickeft  woods  his  wat'ry  maze, 
Her  way  purfu'd;  a  hoftile  band  drew  near; 
Their  tread  fhe  heard,  and  faw  their  armour  clear, 
Chief  of  the  Theban  youth;  the  herds  they  drove', 
And  flocks  collected  from  the  hills  above. 
For  thus  the  Faphian  goddcfs  had  betray'd, 
To  hands  of  cruel  foes,  the  guiltlefs  maid. 

By  fudden  terror  check'd,  at  firft  fhe  flood  ; 
Then  turn'd,  and  fought  the  covert  of  the  wood  ; 
Nor  fo  efcap'd  :  her  glitt'ring  armour  fhone, 
The  ftarry  helmet,  and  the  lofty  cone, 
Full  to  the  glowing  eaft  ;  its  golden  rays 
Her  winding  flight  betray'd  through  all  its  maze 
The  Thebans  faw  ;  and,  rufhing  'midft  the  fhade 
With  fhouts  of  triumph,    feiz'd   the  trembling 

maid. 

Amaz'd  and  pale,  before  the  hoftile  band, 
She  flood;  and  dropp'd  the  jav'iin  from  her  hand: 

0  fpare  my  life  !  fhe  cry'd,  nor  wealth,  nor  fame 
To  purchafe  in  the  works  of  war,  I  came. 

No  hate  to  you  I  bear,  or  Creon's  fway, 
Whofe  fov'reign  will  the  fons  of  Thebes  obey  : 
Me,  haplefs  friendfhip  hither  led,  to  fhare, 
With  Diomed,  the  dangers  of  the  war. 

1  now  return  and  quit  the  martial  ftrife, 
3VIy  fire  to  fuccour  on  the  verge  of  life  ; 
Who  crufh'd  beneath  a  load  of  forrow  bends, 
And  to  the  grave,  with  painful  fteps,  defcends. 
But  if  the  plea  of  pity  you  rejefi, 

The  flronger  ties  of  equity  refped  : 

A  truce  we  fwore;  Jove witneffes  the  deed; 

On  him  who  breaks  it,  vengeance  will  fucceed. 

Thus  as  the  virgin  fpoke,  Phericles  ey'd 
The  arms  fhe  wore  ;  and  fternly  thus  reply'd: 
Ill-fated  wretch!  that  panoply  to  wear: 
The  fame  my  brother  once  in  fight  did  bear; 
Whom  fierce  Tydides,  with  fuperior  might, 
O'erthrew  and  vanquifh'd  in  the  ranks  of  fight. 
If  with  his  foe  my  brother's  fpoils  you  fhar'd, 
A  mark  of  love,  or  merited  reward ; 
Prepare  to  yield  them  and  refign  thy  breath ; 
To  vengeance  due  :   Clytander  claims  thy  death. 

Frowning  he    fpoke,    and    drew  his   fhining 

blade; 

Beneath  the  lifted  fleel,  th'  unhappy  maid 
Confounded  ftoop'd:   Mencetius  caught  the  ftroke 
On  his  broad  fhield  ;  and,  interpofing,  fpoke  : 
Brave  youth !  refpe6l  my  counfel,  and  fufpend 
\The  fudden  vengeance  which  you  now  intend. 
The  chiefs  of  Thebes,  the  rulers  of  the  ftate, 
In  full  affembly,  at  the  Cadmean  gate, 
A  monument  for  great  LeCphron  rear ; 
His  name,  achievements,  and  defcent  to  bear. 
Thither  let  this  devoted  youth  be  led, 
An  off'ring  grateful  to  the  hero's  fhade : 
Nor  fhall  Clytander  lefs  the  deed  approve ; 
Or  friendly  zeal  applaud,  and  feel  our  love  ; 
When  fame  fhall  tell,  in  Pluto's  gloomy  reign, 
How  ftern  Tydides  mourns  this  warrior  flain. 
Thus  ignorantly  they ;  nor  knew  the  peace 
Of  happy  patriots,  when  their  labours  ceafe  ; 
That  fell  revenge  and  life  confuming  hate 
Find  no  admittance  to  moleft  their  ftate. 

And  now  they  led  the  captive  crofs  the  plain  ; 
Scarce  could  her  trembling  knees  their  load  fuf- 
tain ; 


Thrice  had  her  fault'ring  tongue  her  fer  reveal'd, 
But  confcious  fhame  oppos'd  it  and  conceal'd 
Their  monarch  at  the  Cadmean  gate  they  found, 
in  mournful  ftate,  with  all  his  peers  around. 
Oblations  to  Leophron's  mighty  fhade, 
In  honey,  milk,  and  fragrant  wines  they  paid. 
And  thus  Lycaon's  fon  addrcfs'd  the  king : 
A  grateful  off'ring  to  your  rites  we  bring 
This  youth,  the  friend  of  Diomed,  we  found 
Clad  in  the  armour  which  Clytander  own'd  - 
My  brother's  fpoils,  by  Diomed  pofTefVd, 
When  his  keen  jav'iin  pierc'd  the  hero's  brcaft. 
Soon  had  my  rage  the  hoftile  deed  repaid, 
With  vengeance  grateful  to  his  kindred  fhade ; 
But  public  griefs  the  firft  atonements  claim, 
And  heroes  of  a  more  dillinguifh'd  name. 
Leophron,  once  his  country's  pride  and  boaft ; 
Andremon  too,  the  bulwark  of  the  hoft, 
His  blood  demands;  for  when  their  fouls  fhall 

know 

The  fweet  revenge,  in  Pluto's  fhades  below, 
Pleas'd  with  our  zeal,  will  each  illuftrious  ghoft, 
With  lighter  footfteps,  prefbth'  Elyfian  coaft. 

He  fpoke  ;  the  princes  all  at  once  incline  ; 
The  reft,  with  fhouts,  applaud  the  dire  defign. 
An  altar  foon  of  flow'ry  turf  they  raife  : 
On  ev'ry  fide  the  facred  torches  blaze : 
The  bowls,  in  fhining  order,  plac'd  around ; 
The  fatal  knife  was  whetted  fer  the  wound. 
Decreed  to  perifh,  flood  the  helplefs  fair ; 
Like  fome  foft  fawn,  when,  in  the  hunter's  fnare 
Involv'd,  fhe  fees  him  from  his  feat  arife, 
His  brandifh'd  truncheon  dreads,  ar.d  heart  his 

cries ; 

Silent  fhe  ftands,  to  barb'rous  force  rcfign'd, 
In  anguifh  foft,  diflblv'd  her  tender  mind. 
The  priefts  in  order  ev'ry  rite  prepar'd  ; 
Her  neck  and  bofom,  for  the  blow,  they  bar'd ; 
The  helmet  loos'd,  the  buckled  mail  unbound, 
Whofc  fhining  circles  fenc'd  her  neck  around. 
Down  funk  the  fair  difguife ;  and  full  to  fight 
The  virgin  flood,  with  charms  divinely  bright. 
The  comely  ringlets  of  her  flowing  hair, 
Such    as   the  wood-nymphs  wear,  and  naiads 

fair, 

Hung  loofe ;  her  middle  by  a  zone  cmbrac'd, 
Which  fix'd  the  floating  garment  round  her  waift, 
Venus  herfelf  divine  effulgence  fhcd 
O'er  all  her  ftature,  and  her  lovely  head ; 
Such  as  in  fpring  the  colour'd  blofloms  fhow, 
When  on  their  op'ning  leaves  the  zephyrs  blow  1 
Amazement  feiz'd  the  chief* ;  and  all  around, 
With  murmurs  mix'd  the  wond'ring-  crowds  re- 
found. 

Moft  vote  to  fpare :  die  angry  monarch  criei ; 
Ye  minifters,  proceed  !  the  captive  dies. 
Shall  any  here,  by  weak  compaffion  mov'd, 
A  captive  fpare  by  flcrn  Tydides  lov'd  ? 
The  fcoiirge  of  Thebes,  whofc  wide-deftroying 

hand 

Has  thinn'd  our  armies  in  their  nitive  land, 
And  flain  my  fon  :  by  all  the  gods  I  fwear, 
Whofe  names,  to  cite  in  vain,  the  nations  fear, 
That  none  he  loves,  fhall  ever  Tcape  my  rage : 
The  vulgar  plea  1  fcorn,  of  fcx,  or  age. 
Ev'n  fhe,  who  now  appears  with  rv'ry  grace 
Adorn'd,  eacli  charm, of  ftature  and  ot  face; 


THE   WORKS  OF  WILK1E. 


Ev'n  though  from  Venus  (he  could  claim  the  prize 
Her  life  to  vengeance  forfeited,  fhe  dies. 

Sternly  the  monarch  ended.     All  were  ftill, 
"With  mute  fubmiffion  to  the  fov'rcign  will; 
Lycaon's  valiant  fon  except ;  alone 
His  gen'rous  ardour  thus  oppos'd  the  throne  : 
Dread  fov'reign  !  liften  with  a  patient  ear, 
And  what  I  now  fliall  offer,  deign  to  hear. 
When  firft  by  force  we  feiz'd  this  captive  maid, 
The  truce  was  vi'lated,  our  faith  betray'd ; 
And  juflice,  which,  in  war  and  peace,  prevails 
Alike,  and  weighs  their  deeds  with  equal  1'cales, 
Her  freedom  claims,  with  prefents  to  atone 
For  what  our  rage  perfidioufly  has  done  : 
Let  us  not,  now,  to  further  wrongs  proceed ; 
But  fear  the  curfe  for  perjury  decreed. 

Phericles  thus:   and,  with  a  ftern  regard, 
His  indignation  thus  the  king  declar'd : 
"Vain  giddy  youth  !  forbear,  with  factious  breath, 
To  roufe  my  juftice  to  pronounce  thy  death: 
In  oppofition,  firft  of  all  you  move, 
"While  others  hear  in  filence,  and  approve. 
Your  bold  prefumption  check,  and  learn  to  dread 
jMy  vengeance  thunder'd  on  your  wretched  head. 

Frowning  he  ended  thus :  his  threats  defy'd, 
"With  gen'rous  heat  Fhericles  thus  reply'd: 
Princes!  attend,  and  trufl  my  words  fincere  ; 
The  king  I  honour,  and  his  will  revere, 
When  truth  gives  fanction  to  his  juft  commands, 
Nor  common  right  in  oppofition  ftands : 
Yet  gen'rous  minds  a  principle  retain, 
"Which  promifes  and  threats  attempt  in  vain,- 
Which  claims  dominion,  by  the  gods  impreft, 
The  love  of  juflice  in  the  human  breaft : 
By  this  infpir'd,  againft  fuperior  might, 
I  rife  undaunted  in  the  caufe  of  right. 
And  now,  by  all  th'  avenging  gods  I  fwear, 
Whofe  names,  to  cite  in  vain,  the  nations  fear ; 
That  no  bold  warrior  of  the  Theban  bands, 
This  maid  fhall  violate  with  hoftile  hands  ; 
While   thefe  my  arms  have  force  the  lance  to 

wield, 

And  lift  in  her  defence  this  pond'rous  fhield, 
INot  ev'n  the  king  himfelf,  whofe  fov'reign  fway 
The  martial  fons  of  facred  Thebes  obey. 

He  faid  :  and,  by  his  bold  example  fir'd, 
Twelve  warriors  rofe,  with  equal  zeal  infpir'd. 
With  fhining  fl.ee!  the  altar  they  furround, 
The  fire  now  flaming,  and  the  victim  crown'd. 
On  ev'ry  fide  in  wild  diforder  move 
The  thick  compacted  crowds ;  as  when  a  grove, 
Rock'd  by  a  fudden  whirlwind,  bends  and  ftrains, 
From  right  to  left,  along  the  woodland  plains  : 
Fell  difcord  foon  had  rag'd,  in  civil  blood, 
With  wide  deftruction  not  to  be  withftood  ; 
For  from  his  feat  the  angry  monarch  fprung, 
And  lifted,  for  the  blow,  the  fceptre  hung  : 
But  'rnidft  the  tumult,  Clytophon  appeared, 
Approv'd  for  wifdom,  and  with  rev'rence  heard. 
Straight,  by  the  robe,  the  furious  chief  he  feiz'd, 
And  thus,  with  fage  advice,  his  wrath  appeas'd  : 
Hear,  mighty  prince  !  refpect  the  words  of  age, 
And  calm  the  wafteful  tempeft  of  thy  rage ; 
The  public  welfare  to  revenge  prefer, 
For  nations  fuffer  when  their  fov'reigns  err. 
Jt  ill  becomes  us  now,  when  hoftile  pow'rs 
With  ftritfteft- fiege  inveft  our  ft^raiteu'd  tow'rs  ; 


It  ill  becomes  us  thus,  thus  with  civil  arms, 
To  wound  the  (late,  and  aggravate  our  harms. 
Hear,  all  ye  princes !  what  to  me  appears 
A  prudent  counfel,  worthy  of  your  ears: 
Let  us  inquire,  if  in  our  hands  we  hold 
A  life  eftcem'd  by  Diomed  the  bold : 
If,  in  his  breaft,  thofe  tender  paffions  reign, 
Which  charms  like  thefe  muft.  kindle  and  main 
tain  ; 

Our  mandates  freely  to  his  tent  we  fend, 
For  to  our  will  his  haughty  foul  muft  bend : 
Nor  dares  he,  while  the  Theban  walls  enclofe 
A  pledge  fo  dear,  invade  us  or  oppofe ; 
But  muft  fubmit,  whenever  we  require, 
Or  with  his  pow'rs  to  aid  us,  or  retire. 

He  faid ;  the  monarch  painfully  fupprefs'd 
His  burning  rage,  and  lock'd  it  in  his  breaft. 
He  thus  reply'd :  1'hy  prudent  words  infpire 
Pacific  counfels,  and  fubdue  mine  ire  : 
But  if  in  peace  I  rul'd  the  Theban  ftate, 
Nor  hoftile  armies  thunder'd  at  my  gate; 
They  had  not  dar'd,  with  infolence  and  fpite, 
My  purpofe  to  oppofe  and  fcorn  my  might. 
He  faid,  and  to  his  feat  again  retir'd  ; 
While  fuden  tranfport  ev'ry  breaft  infpir'd  ; 
As  fwains  rejoice,  when,  from  the  troubled  Ikies, 
By  breezes  fwept,  a  gather'd  tempeft  flies  ; 
With  wifh'd  return  the  fun  exerts  his  beams, 
To  cheer  the  woods  and  gild  the  fhining  ftreams. 
Meanwhile,  the  fon   of  Tydeus,  through  the 

plain, 

With  wifhingeyes,  Caflandra  fought  in  vain; 
At  ev'ry  leader  of  the  bands  inquir'd  ; 
Then,  fad  and  hopelefs,  to  his  tent  retir'd. 
"1'was  then  his  grief  the  bounds  of  filence  broke, 
And  thus  in  fecret  to  himfelf  he  fpoke  : 
Me  fure,  of  all  mens  fons,  the  gods  have  curs'd 
With  their  chief  plagues,  the  greateft  and  the 

worft  ; 

Doom'd  to  difaflers,  from  my  earlieft  hour ; 
Not  wife  to  fhun,  nor  patient  to  endure. 
From  me  die  fource,  unnumber'd  ills  proceed 
To  all  my  friends  ;  Deiphobus  is  dead  ! 
His  foul  excluded,  feeks  the  nether  ikies, 
And  wrong'd  Caflandra  from  my  prefence  flies. 
Me  furely,  at  my  birth,  the  gods  defign'd 
Their  rod  of  wrath,  to  fcourge  the  human  kind; 
For  flaughter  form'd,  with  brutal  fury  brave, 
Prompt  to  deftroy,  but  impotent  to  fave. 
How   could   my  madnefs   blame  thee,  gen'roui? 

maid! 

And,  with  my  crime,  thy  innocence  upbraid  ! 
Deiphobus  is  fall'n  !  but  not  by  thee; 
Thy  only  fault,  alas  !  was  love  to  me : 
For  this,  in  plated  fteel  thy  limbs  were  drefs'd, 
A  weighty  fhield  thy  tender  arm  opprefs'd  : 
For  this  thou  didft  to  hoftile  fields  repair, 
And  court  fuch  objects  as  diftract  the  fair  ; 
Patient  above  thy  lex  !  an  ill  reward, 
Blame  and  unjuft  reproach,  was  all  you  fhar'd. 
By  my  unkindnefs  banifh'd,  now  you  roam, 
And  feek,  through  paths  unknown,  your  diftant 

home :     ' 

To  mountain  wolves  expos'd,  a  helplefs  prey, 
And  men  unjuft,  more  terrible  than  they. 
Save  her,  ye  gods !  and  let  me  ftand  the  aim 
Of  Jove's  all-dreaded  bolt,  and  1'corching  flame. 


EPIC  ONI  AD,   Book  VI. 
Jius  plain'd  the  hero  till  the  fetting  ray 
W  hdrew,  and  ev'ning  fhades  expell'd  the  day  ; 
Th  n  in  his  tent,  before  his  lofty  feat, 
Appear'd  a  herald  from  the  Theban  ftate ; 
The   hero's  knees,    with   trembling    hands,    he 

prefs'd. 

And  with  his  meflage  thus  the  chief  addrefs'd  : 
Hear,  mighty  prince !  the  tidings  which  I  bring, 
From  Thebes  aflembled,  and  the  Theban  king. 
An  armed  warrior  of  your  native  train, 
At  early  dawn,  was  feiz'd  upon  the  plain. 
What  others  did,  forgive,  if  I  relate  ; 
Creon  commands  me  and  the  Theban  ftate. 
A  fairer  youth,  in  martial  arms,  ne'er  came 
To  court  bright  honour  in  the  fields  of  fame. 
A  cafque  of  polifh'd  fteel  his  temples  prefs'd, 
The  golden  cone  with  various  plumage  drefs'd ; 
A  filver  mail  embrac'd  his  body  round,      , 
And  greaves  of  brafs  his  flender  ancles  bound  : 
To  Thebes  well  known  the  panoply  he  wore, 
The  fame,  which  once,  renown'd  Clytander  bore. 
Our  warriors  dragg'd  him  to  the  Cadmean  gate, 
Where  Creon,  with  the  rulers  of  the  ftate, 
Affembled  fat  ;t  the  trembling  captive  ftood, 
With  arms  furrounded,  and  th'  infulting  crowd. 

0  fpare  my  life  '.  he  cry'd,  nor  wealth  nor  fame 
To  purchale  in  the  works  of  war,  I  came. 

No  hate  to  you,  I  bear,  or  Greon's  fway, 
Whofe-fov'reign  will  the  fons  of  Thebes  obey. 
Me  lucklefs  friendship  hither  led,  to  mare, 
With  Diomed,  the  dangers  o£the  war. 

1  now  return,  and  quit  the  martial  ftrife, 
My  fire  to  fuccour  on  the  verge  of  life  ; 
Whofe  feeble  age  the  prefent  aid  demands, 
And  kind  affiftance  of  my  filial  hands. 

His  words  inclin'd  the  wifell  and  the  baft, 
And  tome  their  gen'rous  fympathy  exprefs'd  8 
Eut  others,  nothing  mov'd,  his  guiltlefs  head 
With  threats  demanded,  to  avenge  the  dead  t 
And  thus  the  king  :  My  countrymen,  attend  ! 
In  this,  let  all  your  loud  contention  end  : 
If  Diomed,  to  fave  this  valu'd  lite, 
The  field  abandons  and  the  martial  ftrife ; 
The  captive  fafe,  with  prefents,  I'll  reftore, 
Of  brafs,  and  fteel,  and  gold's  refulgent  ore  : 
'  But  if  thefe  terms  the  haughty  chief  fhall  flight, 
And  for  the  Argives  ftili  exert  his  might; 
Before  our  heroes'  tombs,  this  youth  (hall  bleed, 
To  pleafe  the  living,  and  avenge  the  dead. 
His  fentence  all  approv'd  ;  and  to  your  ear, 
As  public  herald,  I  the  meflage  bear; 
And  muft  your  anfwer  crave,  without  delay; 
Creon  and  Thebes  already  blame  my  ftay. 

Thus  as  he  fpoke,  contending  paflions  (trove, 
With  force  oppos'd,  the  hero's  foul  to  move ; 
As  fhifting  winds  impel  the  ocean's  tide, 
And  fway  the  reeling  waves  from  fide  to  fide  ; 
Rage  dictated  revenge  ;  but  tender  fear, 
From  love  and  pity,  warn'd  him  to  forbear : 
Till,  like  a  lion,  fiercer  from  his  pain, 
Thefe  words  broke  forth  in  wrath  and  highdifdain: 
Go,  tell  your  tyrant,  that  he  tempts  a  foul, 
Which  prefents  cannot  win,  nor  threats  controul : 
Not  form'd,  like  his,  to  mock  at  ev'ry  tie  ; 
With  perjury  to  fport,  and  heav'n  defy. 
A  common  league  the  Argive  warriors  fwore, 
A.«d  (eal'd  the  iacred  tie  with  wine  and  gore  : 
4 


37 

My  faith  was  plighted  then,  and  ne'er  fhall  fail, 
Nor  Creon's  arts,  to  change  me,  aught  avail. 
But  tell  him  loud,  that  all  the  holt  may  hear, 
And  Thebes  through  all  her  warriors  learn  to  fear  j 
If  any,  from  hirnfelf,  or  by  command. 
The  captive  violates  with  hoftile  hand  ; 
That  all  fliall  quickly  rue  the  guilty  deed, 
When,  to  requite  it,  multitudes  fhall  bleed. 

Sternly  the  hero  ended,  and  refign'd. 
To  fierce  diforder,  all  his  mighty  mind. 
Already  in  his  thoughts,  with  vengeful  hand*, 
He  dealt  deftruftion  'midft  the  Theban  bands,  : 
In  fancy  faw  the  tott'ring  turrets  fall, 
And  led  his  warriors  o'er  the  levell'd  wall. 
Rous'd  with  the  thought,  from  his  high  feat  he 

fprung : 

And  grafp'd  the  fword,  which  on  a  column  hung ; 
The  mining  blade  he  balanc'd  thrice  in  air  ; 
His  lances  nest  he  view'd  and  armour  fair. 
When,  hanging  'midft  the  coftly  panoply, 
A  fcarf  erabroider'd  met  the  hero's  eye, 
Which  fair  Caffandra's  Ikilful  hands  had  wrought ; 
A  prefent  for  her  lord,  in  fecret  brought, 
That  day,  when  firft  he  led  his  martial  train 
In  arms  to  combat  on  the  Theban  plain. 
As  fome  ftrong  charm,  which  magic  founds  com-. 

pofe, 

Sufpends  a  downward  torrent  as  it  flows; 
Checks  in  the  precipice  its  headlong  courfe, 
And  calls  it  trembling  upwards  to  its  fource  : 
Such  feem'd  the  robe,  which,  to  the  hero's  eyes, 
Made  the  fair  artift  in  her  charms  to  rife. 
His  rage,  fufpended  in  its  full  career, 
To  love  refigns,  to  grief  and  tender  fear. 
Glad  would  he  now  his  former  words  revoke. 
And  change   the  purpofe  which  in   wrath   he 

fpoke ; 

From  holtile  hands  his  captive  fair  to  gain, 
From  fate  to  fave  her,  or  the  fervile  chain : 
But  pride,  and  fhame,  the  fond  defign  fuppreft ; 
Silent  he  ftood,  and  lock'd  it  in  his  bread. 
Yet  had  the  wary  Theban  well  divin'd, 
By  fymptoms  fure,  each  motion  of  his  mind: 
With  joy  he  faw  the.  heat  of  rage  fupprefs'd ; 
And  thus  again  his  artful  words  addrefs'd : 
Illuftrious  prince  !  with  patience  bend  thine  ear, 
And  what  I  now  fhall  offer,  deigu  to  hear. 
Of  all  the  griefs,  diftrefsful  mortals  prove, 
The  woes  of  friendlliip  moft  my  pity  move. 
You  much  I  pity,  and  the  youth  regret, 
Whom  you  too  rigidly  refign  to  fate ; 
Expos'd,  alone,  no  hope  of  comfort  near, 
The  fcorn  and  cruelty  of  foes  to  bear. 
O  that  my  timely  counfel  might  avail, 
For  love,  and  fympathy,  to  turn  the  fcale ! 
That  Thebes  releas'd  from  thy  devouring  fword, 
The  captive  honour'd,  and  with  gifts  reftor'd, 
We  yet  might  hope  for  peace,  and  yon  again 
Enjoy  the  bleffings  of  your  native  reign. 

Insinuating  thus,  the  herald  try'd 
His  aim  to  coznpafs ;  and  the  chief  reply'd : 
In  vain  you  ftrive  to  fway  my  conftant  mind; 
I'll  not  depart  while  Thefcus  flays  behind  : 
Me  nothing  e'er,  to  change  my  faith,  mall  move, 
By  men  attetted,  and  the  gods  above  : 
But  Cnct  your  lawlcl's  tjrant  ha?  detainM 
A  valu'd  hoftage,  treacheroufljr  gain'd  i 
C  •  j 


THE   WORKS    OF  WILKIE. 


And  dire  injuftice  only  will  reflore 
When  force  compels,  or  proffer'd  gifts  implore  : 
A  truce  I  grant,  till  the  revolving  fun, 
Twice  ten  full  circuits  of  his  journey  run, 
From  the  red  ocean,  points  the  morning  r?y, 
And  on  the  fteps  of  darknefs  pours  the  day  : 
Till  then,  from  fight  and  council  I  abftain, 
Nor  lead  my  pow'rs  to  combat  on  the  plain  : 
For  this,  your  monarch  to  my  tent  fliall  fend 
The  captive,  and  from  injuries  defend. 
This  proffer  is  my  laft  ;  in  vain  will  prove 
AH  your  attempt*  my  fixed  mind  to  move  : 
If  Thebes  accepts  it,  let  a  fign  declare, 
A  flaming  torch,  difplay'd  aloft  in  aiv, 
From  that  high  tow'r,  whofe  airy  top  is  known 
By  travellers  from  afar,  and  marks  the  town  ; 
The  fane  of  Jove  :  but  if  they  fliall  reject 
The  terms  I  fend,  nor  equity  refpect, 
They  foon  fliall  feel  the  fury  of  mine  ire, 
In  wafteful  havoc,  and  the  rage  of  fire. 


The  hero  thus ;  and  round  his  moulders  flung" 
A  fhaggy  cloak,  with  vulgar  trappings  hung ; 
And  on  his  head  a  leathern  helmet  plac'd, 
A  boar's  rough  front  with  grifly  terrors  grac'd  ; 
A  fpear  he  next  affum'd,  and  pond'rous  flue  Id, 
And  led  the  Theban,  iffuing  to  the  field. 
Amid  furrounding  guards  they  pafs'd  unfeen. 
For  night  had  ftretch'd  her  friendly  fhade  between  ; 
Till  nearer,   through  the   gloom,  the  gate  they 

knew  ; 

The  herald  enter'd,  and  the  chief  withdrew  : 
But  turning  oft  to  Thebes  his  eager  eyes, 
The  fignal  on  the  tow'r  at  laft  he  fpies ; 
A  flaming  torch  upon  the  top  expos'd, 
Its  ray  at  once  his  troubled  mind  compos'd  ; 
Such  joy  he  felt,  as  when  a  watch-towVs  light, 
Seen   through  the  gloom    of  fame    tempeituous 

night, 

Glads  the  wet  mariner,  aftar  to  guide 
His  lab'ring  veflel,  through  the  ftormy  tide. 


BOOK    VII. 


. 

jSfow  filent  night  the  middle  fpace  poffeft 

Of'  heaven,  orjournej'd  downwards  to  the  weft  :   ' 

But  Creon.  (till  with  third  of  vengeance  Sr'd, 

Repofe  declin'd,  nor  from  his  toils  refpir'-d  ; 

But  held  his  peers  in  council  to  debate 

Plans  for  revenge  fuggefted  by  his  hate. 

Before  the  king  Dienices  appeared  ; 

To  fpeak  his  tidings  fad  the  hero  fear'd  ; 

Return'd  from  Oeta,  thither  lent  to  call 

Alcides  to  protect  his  native  wall. 

And  Creon  thus  :  Dienices  !  explain 
Your  forrow  ;  are  our  hopes  of  aid  in  vain  ? 
Does  Hercules  neglect  his  native  foil; 
While  ftrangcrs  reap  the  harveft  of  his  toil  ? 
We  from  your  filence  cannot  hope  luccefs; 
But  further  ills  your  falling  tears  confefs  ; 
Cleon  my  fon  is  dead  ;  his  tate  you  mourn  ; 
J  mutt  not  hope  to  fee  his  fate  return. 
Sure  if  he  liv'd   he  had  not  come  the  laft  ; 
But  found  his  father  with  a  filial  halte. 
His  fate,  at  once,  declare,  you  need  not  fear, 
With  any  tale  of  grief  to  wound  mine  ear, 
Proof  to  misfortune:  for  the  man  who  knows  , 
The  whole  variety  of  human  woes 
Can  ftand  unmov'd  though  loads  of  forrow  prefs; 
Praclis'd  to  bear,  familiar  with  cliftrets. 

The1  monaich  queftion'd  thusj  and    thus   the 

youth : 

Too  well  thy  boding  fear  has  found  the  truth. 
Gleon  is  dead  ;  the  hero's  aflies  lie  , 

Where  Pelion's  lofty  head  afcends  the  Iky. 
For  as,  on  Oeta's  top,  he  vainly  (trove 
To  win  the  arrows  of  the  fon  of  Jove  ; 
Compelling  Philpcletes,  to  refign, 
The  friend  of  Hercules,  his  arms  divine  ; 
The  infult  to  repel,  an  arrow  flew, 
And  from  his  heart  the  vital  current  drew  :       , 
Proitrate  he  funk  ;  and  welling  from  the  wound, 
A  flood  uf  gore  impurpled  ail  the,  grouud. 


Thus  fpoke  Dienices.     The  king  fuppreft 
His  bi,g  diftrefs,  and  lock'd  it  in  his  breaft  : 
Sighing  he  thus  reply'd  :  The  caufe  declare, 
Which  holds  the  great  Alcides  from  the  war; 
And  why  another  now,  the  bow  commands 
And  arrows  facred,  from  his  mighty  hands. 
Nor  fear  my  valiant  fon's  untimely  fate, 
With  all  its  weight  of  forrow,  to  relate  : 
All  I  can  bear.     Againft  my  naked  head, 
1  fee  the  vengeance  of  the  gods  decreed  ; 
With  hoftile  arms  befet  my  tott'ring  reign  ; 
The  people  wafted,  and  my  children  flain. 
Attempts  prove  fruitlefs;  ev'ry  hope  deceives ; 
Succefs  in  profpecl:  difappointment  gives; 
With  fwift  approach,  I  lee  deftruction  come  ; 
But  with  a  mind  unmov'd,  I'll  meet  my  doom; 
Nor  ftain  this  war-worn  vifage  with  a  tear, 
Since  all  that  Heav'n  has,  purpos'd,  I  can  bear. 
The  monarch  thus  his  rifmg  grief  fupprefs'd  ; 
v\ncl  thus  the  peers  Dienices  addrefs'd  ; 

Princes  of  Thebes  1  and  thou,  whofe  fov'reign 

hand 

Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fupreme  command  I 
To  what  I  offer,  lend  an  equal  ear; 
The  truth  I'll  fpeak,  and  judge  me  when  you  hear. 
It  Cleon,  by  my  fault,  no  more  returns, 
For  whom,  her  fecond  hope,  his  country  mourns; 
No  doom  I  deprecate,  no  torture  fly, 
Which  juftice  can  denounce,  or  rage  fupply: 
But  if  my  innocence  appears,  I  claim 
Your  cenfure  to  efcape,  and  public  blame. 

From  Marathon  by  night  our  courfe  we  fteer'd, 
And  palV-d  Gerartus  when  the  day  appe,ar'd ; 
Andros  we  faw,  with  promontories  fteep, 
Afrend  ;  and  Delos  level  with  the  deep. 
A  circuit  wide  ;  for  where  Euripus  roars 
Between  Eubcea  and  the  Theban  ihores, 
The  Argives  h;id  difpos'd  their  naval  train  ; 
Aad  prudence  taught  to  fliun  the  hoftile  plain* 


EPI'GONIAD,  BOOK  VII. 
Fwir  days  we  fafl'd ;  the  fifth  our  voyage  ends, 
Where  Oeta,  iloping  to  the  fea,  defcends. 
The  vales  i  i'carch'd,  and  woody  h  jglus  above, 
Guided  by  fume,  to  find  the  ion  of  Jove, 
With  Cleon  only ;  for  we  charg'd  the  baud 
To  ilay,  and  guard  our  veflel  on  the  iirand. 
In  vain  we  learch'd  :  but  when  the  lamp  of  day 
Approach'd  the  ocean  with  its  fetcing  ray, 
A  cave  appear'd,  which  from  a  mouiuain  iteep, 
Through  a  low  valley,  iook'd  into  the  deep. 
Thither  we  turn'd  our  weary  lleps,  and  found 
The  cavern  hung  with  lavage  fpo:Ls  around ; 
The  wolf's  gray  fur,  the  wild  boar's  Ihaggy  hide, 
The  lion  s  mane,  the  panther's  Ipeckled  pride : 
Thefe  figns  we  mark'd  ;  and  knew  the  rocky  feat, 
Some  folitary  hunter's  wild  retreat. 
Farther  invited  by  a  giimm'ring  ray, 
"Which  through  the  darkiiefs  fhed  uncertain  day, 
In  tke  recedes  of  the  cave  we  found 
The  club  of  Hercules ;  and  wrapt  around, 
Which,  feen  beiore,  we  knew,  the  lion's  fpoils, 
The  mantle  which  he  wore  in  ah  his  toils. 
Amaz'd  we  Hood  ;  in  filence,  each  his  mind 
To  fear  and  hope  alternately  reiign'd : 
With  joy  we  hop'd  to  find  the  hero  near; 
Thjs  club  and  mantle  found,  dilpos'd  to  fear. 
His  force  invincible  in  fight  we  knew, 
Which  nought  of  mortal  kind  could  e'er  fuhduc. 
But  iear'd  Apollo's  might,  or  his  who  heaves 
The  iblid  earth,  and  rules  the  ftormy  waves. 

Pond'ring  we  flood,  when  on  the  roof  above, 
The  tread  of  feet  defcending  through  the  grove 
Which crown'd  the  hollow  cliff,  amaz'd  we  heard; 
And  ftraight  before  the  cave  a  youth  appear'd. 
A  bleeding  buck  acrofs  his  ihoulders  flung, 
Ty'd  with  a  rope  of  twitted  rufhes  hung. 
He  dropt  his  burden  in  the  gate,  and  piac'd 
Againft  the  pillar'd  cliff  his  bow  unbrac'd. 
'  JL'was  then  oar  footflxps  in  the  cave  he  heard, 
And  through  the  gloom  our  fhining  arms  appear'd. 
His  bow  he  bent ;  and  backwards  from  the  rock 
Retir'd,  and,  of  our  purpofe  queft'ning,  fpoke  : 
bay  who  you  are,  who  feek  this  wild  abode, 
Through  defert  paths,  by  mortals  rarely  trod  ? 
If  juft,  and  with  a  fair  intent  you  come, 
Friendfhip  expecl,  and  fafety  in  my  dome  : 
But  if  for  violence,  your  danger  learn, 
And  trufl  my  admonition  when  I  warn : 
Certain  as  fate,  where'er  this  arrow  flies, 
The  haplefs  wretch  who  meets  its  fury  dies : 
No  buckler  to  reuft  its  point  avails, 
The  haminer'd  cuirafs  yields,  the  breaft-plate  fails; 
And  where  it  once  has  drawn  the  purple  gore, 
£!o  charm  can  cure,  no  med'cine  health  reitore 


With  threats  he  queftion'd  thus;  and  Clo>u  laid 
We  come  to  call  Alcides  to  our  aid  ; 
By  us  the  fenators  of  Thebes  entreat 
The  hero  to  protect  his  native  ftate : 
For  hoftile  arms  inveft  theTheban  tbw'rs; 
Famine  within,  without  the  fword  devours. 
If  you  have  learn'd  where  Hercules  remains, 
In  mountain  caves,  or  hamlets  on  the  plains. 
Our  way  direct ;  for,  led  by  gen'ral  fame, 
To  find  him  in  thefe  defert  wilds  we  came. 

He  fpoke  :  and  Philocletes  thus  again  :  _ 
May  Jove  for  Thebes  fome  other  aid  ordain  j 
For  Hercules  no  more  exerts  his  might 
Agaijift  pppreffive  force,  for  injur'd  right ; 


39 

Retir  d,  among  the  gods,  he  fits  krone, 

And  views,  beneath  him  far,  this  mortal  fccnc  : 

But  enter  now  this  grotto,  and  partake 

What  1  can  otfer  for  the  hero's  lake  : 

With  you  irom  facrcd  Thebes  he  claim'd  his  birth, 

For  godlike  virtue  fam'd  through  all  the  earth ; 

Thebes  therefore  and  her  people  flifi  fhall  be 

Like  fair  Trachines  and  Kr  Ibr.i  to  me. 

Enter,  for  now  the  doubtiui  twilight  fails, 

And  o'er  the  fiient  earth  the  night  prevails : 

From  the  moift  valleys  noxious  fogs  arife, 

To  wrap  the  rocky  heights,  and  lhade  the  fkies. 

The  cave  we  enter'd,  and  his  bounty  fhar'd; 
A  rural  banquet  by  himfeif  prepar'd. 
But  loon  the  rage  of  thirit  and  hunger  ftaid, 
My  mind  dill  doubtful,  to  the  youth.  1  laid : 
Muft  haplefs  Thebes,  defpairing  and  undone, 
Want  the  afliftauce  of  her  braveft  fon  ? 
The  hero's  fate  explain,  nor  grudge  mine  car 
The  fad  alTarance  of  our  lofs  to  hear. 
I  queltion'd  thus.   The  youth  with  horror  pale 
Attempted  to  recite  an  av^ful  tale ; 
Above  the  fabled  woes  which  bards  rehearfe, 
When  fad  Melpomene  infpires  the  verie. 

The  wife  of  Jove  (Poeonides  reply'd) 
All  arte  in  vain  to  crufh  the  hero  try'd ; 
For  brighter  from  her  hate  his  virtue  burn'd; 
And  dilappoimed  ftill,  the  goddefs  mourn'd. 
His  ruin  to  effect  at  laft  Ihe  llrove 
By  jeaiouly,  the  rage  of  injur'd  love. 
The  bane  to  Deiamra's  breail  convey'd, 
Who,  as  a  rival,  fear'd  th'  Uechalian  maid. 
The  goddefs  knew,  that  jealous  of  her  lord, 
A  robe  fbe  kept  with  latent  poifons  iror'd ; 
The  Centaur's  gift,  bcqueath'd  her,  to  reclaim 
The  hero's  love,  and  light  his  dying  flame; 
If  e'er,  devoted  td'k  ftranger's  charms, 
He  llray'd  incomtiht  from  her  widow'd  arms; 
But  giv'n  with  treacherous  intent  to  prove 
The  death  of  nature,  not  the  life  of  love. 
Mad  from  her  jealoufy,  the  charm  (he  try'd; 
His  love  to  change,  the  deadly  robe  apply  "d: 
And  guiltlefs  of  the  prcftnt  which  he  bore,  { 

Lychas  convey'd  it  to  Centrum's  Jhorc  : 
Where  to  the  pow'rs  immortal  for  their  aid, 
A  grateful  hecatomb  the  hero  paid: 
When  favour'd  from  above,  his  arm  o'erthrew      , 
The  proud  liurytus,  and  his  warriors  flew. 
The  venom 'd  robe  the  hero  took,  nor  fear'd 
A  gift  by  conjugal  refpefls  tndear'd: 
And  ftraight  reiign'd  the  lion's  fhaggy  fpoils, 
The  mantle  which  he  wore  in  all  hi*  toils. 
No  f:gn  of  harm  the  fatal  prefcnt  ftiow'd, 
Till  rous'd  by  heat  its  fecrct  venom  glow'd ; 


Straight  on  the  flefh  it  feiz'd  like  fliffeil  glue, 
And  fcorching  deep  to  ev'ry  member  grew. 
Then  tearing  with  his  hands  th'  infernal  fnarc, 
Hi*  flcin  he  rent,  and  laid  the  mulclei  bare , 
While  Itreams  of  blood  defcending  from  the  wound, 
Mix'd  with  the  gore  of  vidims  on  the  ground. 
The  guiltlefs  Lychas,  in  hib  furious  mood, 
He  feiz'd,  as  trembling  by  his  fide  he  flood ; 
Him  by  the  flender  ancle  faatch'd,  he  fwung, 
And  'gainft  a  rocky  promontory  flung: 
Which,  from  the  dire  event,  his  name  retains; 
Through  his  white  locks  impurpl'd  rulh  the  brains^ 
Aw'd  by  the  deed,  his  defp'rate  rage  to  flinn, 
Onr  bold  companions  from  bis  prclcnc*  run. 
' 


THE   WORKS   OF  WILKIE. 


I  too,  conceal'd  behind  a  rock,  remain'd ; 
My  love  and  fympathy  by  fear  reftrain'd : 
For  furious  'midll  the  facred  fires  he  flew  ; 
The  victims  fcatter'd,  and  the  hearths  o'erthrew. 
Then  finking  proftrate,  where  a  tide  of  gore 
From  oxen  flain  had  blackan'd  all  the  fliore, 
His  form  divine  he  roll'd  in  duft  and  blood  ; 
His  groans  the  hills  re-echo'd  and  the  flood. 
Then  rifing  furious,  to  the  ocean's  ftream? 
He  rufh'd,  in  hope  to  quench  his  raging  flames; 
But  burning  ftill  the  unextinguifn'ci  pain, 
The  fhore  he  left,  and  ftretch'd  into  the  main. 
A  galley  anchor'd  near  the  beach  we  found ; 
Her  curled  canvafs  to  the  breeze  unbound  ; 
And  trac'd  his  defp'rate  courfe,  till  far  before 
We  faw  him  land  on  Oeta's  defert  fhore. 
Towards  the  fkies  his  furious  hands  he  rear'd, 
And  thus,  acrofs  the  deep  his  voice  we  heard: 
Sov'reign  of  heav'n  and  earth  '.  whofe  bound- 
lei's  fway 

The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey ! 
If  e'er  delighted  from  the  courts  above, 
In  human  form,  you  fought  Alcmena's  love ; 
If  fame's  unchanging  voice  to  all  the  earth, 
With  truth,  proclaims  you  author  of  my  birth  ; 
Whence  from  a  courfe  of  fpotlefs  glory  run, 
Succefsful  toils  and  wreaths  of  triumph  won, 
Am  I  thus  wretched  ?  better,  that  before 
Some  monfter  fierce  had  drunk  my  ftreaming 

gore; 

Or  crufh'd  by  Cacus,  foe  to  gods  and  men, 
My  batter'd  brains  had  ftrew'd  his  rocky  den  : 
Than  from  my  glorious  toils  and  triumphs  paft, 
To  fall  fubdu'd  by  female  arts  at  laft. 
O  cool  my  boiling  blood,  ye  winds,  that  blow 
From  mountains  loaded  with  eternal  fnovv, 
And  crack  the  icy  cliffs ;  in  Igjflgfefllp  vain ! 
Your  rigour  cannot  quench  myli^incr  pain  ! 
For  round  this  heart  the  furies  wave  their  brands, 
And  wring  my  entrails  with  their  burning  hands. 
Now  bending  from  the  fkies,  O  wife  of  Jove  ! 
Enjoy  the  vengeance  of  thy  injur'd  love  : 
For  fate,  by  me,  the  thund'rer's  guilt  atones, ; 
And,  punifh'd  in  her  fon,  Alcmena  groans : 
The  object  of  your  hate  fhall  foon  expire ; 
Fix'd  on  my  fhoulders  preys  a  net  of  fire : 
Whom  nor  the  toils  nor  dangers  could  fubdue, 
By  falfe  Euryftheus  dictated  from  you  ; 
Nor  tyrants  lawlefs,  nor  the  monftrous  brood, 
Which  haunts  the  defert  or  infefts  the  flood, 
Nor  Greece,  nor  all  the  barb'rous  climes  that  lie 
Where  Phoebus  ever  points  his  golden  eye  ; 
A  woman  hath  o'erthrown  !  ye  gods  !  I  yield 
To  female  arts,  unconquer'd  in  the  field. 
My  arms- — alas !  are  thefe  the  fame  that  bow'd 
Anteus,  and  his  giant  force  fubdu'd  ? 
That  dragg'd  Nemca's  monfter  from  his  den ; 
And  flew  the  dragon  in  his  native  fen  ? 
Alas,  alas !  their  mighty  mufcles  fail, 
While  pains  infernal  ev'ry  nerve  affail : 
Alas,  alas  1  I  feel  in  ftreams  of  woe 
Thefe  eyes  diflolv'd,  before  untaught  to  flow. 
Awake  my  virtue,  oft  in  dangers  try'd, 
Patient  in  toils,  in  deaths  unterrify'd, 
Roufe  to  my  aid ;  nor  let  my  labours  paft, 
With  fame  atchiev'd,  be  blotted  by  the  laft ; 
Virm  and  unmov'd,  the  prefent  fhock  endure; 
Once  triumph,  and  for  ever  reft  fecure. 


The  hero  thus ;  and  grafp'd  a  pointed  rock 
With  both  his  arms,  which  ftraight  in  pieces  broke, 
Crufh'd  in  his  agony;  then  on  his  brcaft 
Defcending  proftrate,  further  plaint  fupprcft. 
And  now  the  clouds,  in  dufky  volumes  fpread, 
Had  darken'd  all  the  mountains  with  their  fhade: 
The  winds  withhold  their  breath ;  the  billows  reft ; 
The  iky's  dark  image  on  the  deep  impreft. 
A  bay  for  fhelter  op'ning  in  the  ftrand, 
We  law,  and  fteer'd  our  veffel  to  the  land. 
Then  mounting  on  the  rocky  beach  above, 
Through  the  thick  gloom  defcry'dthe  fon  of  Jove. 
His  head,  declin'd  between  his  hands,  he  lean'd ; 
His  elbows  on  his  bended  knees  f'uftain'd. 
Above  him  ftill  a  hov'ring  vapour  flew, 
Which,  from  his  boiling  veins,  the  garment  drew. 
Through  the  thick  woof  we  faw  the  fumes  afpire  ; 
Like  fmoke  of  vidims  from  the  facred  fire. 
Compaffion's  keeneft  touch  my  bofom  thrill'd ; 
My  eyes,  a  flood  of  melting  furrow  fill'd  : 
Doubtful  1  flood  :  and,  pond'ring  in  my  mind, 
By  fear  and  pity  varioufly  inclin'd, 
Whether  to  fhun  the  hero,  or  efTay, 
With  friendly  words,  his  torment  to  allay  : 
When  burfting  from  above  with  hideous  glare, 
A  flood  of  lightning  kindled  all  the  air. 
From  Oeta's  top  it  rufh'd  in  fudden  ftreams; 
The  ocean  redden'd  at  its  fiery  beams. 
Then,  bellowing  deep,  the  thunder's  awful  found, 
Shook  the  firm  mountains  and  the  fliores  around. 
Far  to  the  eaft  it  roll'd,  a  length  of  fky  ; 
We  heard  Eubcea's  rattling  cliffs  reply, 
As  at  his  matter's  voice  afwain  appears,          t 
When  wak'd  from  deep  his  early  call  he  hears, 
The  hero  rofe ;  and  to  the  mountain  turn'd, 
Whofe  cloud-involved  top  with  lightning  burn'd; 
And  thus  his  fire  addrefs'd :   With  patient  mind, 
Thy  call  1  hear,  obedient  and  refign'd  ; 
Faithful  and  true  the  oracle  !  which  fpoke, 
In  high  Dodona,  from  the  facred  oak; 
"  That  twenty  years  of  painful  labours  paft, 
"  On  Oeta's  top  I  fhauld  repofe  at  laft :" 
Before,  in%*olv'd,  the  meaning  lay  conceal'd; 
But  now  I  find  it  in  my  fate  reveal'd. 
Thy  fov'reign  will  I  blame  not,  which  denies, 
With  length  of  days  to  crown  my  victories  : 
Though  ftill  with  danger  and  diftrefs  engag'd, 
For  injur'd  right  eternal  war  1  wag'd  ; 
A  life  of  pain,  in  barb'rous  climates  led, 
The  heav'ns  my  canopy,  a  rock  my  bed  : 
More  joy  I've  felt  than  delicacy  knows, 
Or  all  the  pride  of  regal  pomp  beftows- 
Dread  fire  !  thy  will  I  honour  and  revere, 
And  own  thy  love  with  gra(itude  fincere,     [boaft 
Which  watch'd  me  in  my  toil$.^fchat  none  could 
To  raife  a  trophy  from  my  glory  loft  : 
And  though  at  laft,  by  female  arts,  o'ercome, 
And  unfufpe&ed  fraud,  I  find  my  doom ; 
There  to  have  fail'd,  my  honour  ne'er  can  fhake, 
Where  vice  is  only  ftrong  and  virtue  weak. 

He  faid  :  and  turning  to  the  cloudy  height, 
The  feat  of  thunder,  wrapt  in  fable  night, 
Firm  and  undaunted  trod  the  fteep  adeem ; 
An  earthquake  rock'd  the  mountain  as  he  went. 
Back  from  the  fhaking  fhores  retir'd  the  flood  5. 
In  horror  loft,  my  bold  companions  flood, 
Td  fpeech  or  motion ;  but  the  prefent  pow'r 
Of  love  infpir'd  me,  in  that  awful  hour ; 


EFIGONIAD,  Book  VIL 


With  trembling  flcps  I  trac'd  the  fon  of  Jove ; 
And  faw  him  darkly  on  the  deep  above,         [noife 
Through   the    thick  gloom,   the  thunder's  awful 
Ce;is'd ;  and  I  call'd  him  thus  with  feeble  voice  ; 
O  fon  of  mighty  Jove  !  thy  friend  await; 
Who  comes  to  comfort  thee,  or  fharc  thy  fate : 
In  ev'ry  danger  and  diftrefs  before, 
His  part  your  faithful  Philoctetes  bore. 
O  let  me  ilill  attend  you,  and  receive 
The  comfort  which  a  prefent  friend  can  give, 
Who  co;ue  obfequious  for  your  laft  commands, 
And  tenders  to  your  need  his  willing  hands. 

My  voice  he  heard ;  and  from  the  mountains 
Saw  me  afcending  on  the  fteep  below.          [brow 
To  favour  my  approach  his  fteps  he  flay'd  ; 
And  pleas'd,  amidol  his  anguifh  fmilmg,  faid  : 
Approach,  my  Philoctetes  !  Oft  I've  known 
Your  friendly  zeal  in  former  labours  mown  : 
The  prefent,  more  than  all,  your  love  proclaims, 
Whicji  braves  the  thunderer's  bolts  and  volley 'd 

flames ; 

With  daring  flep  the  rocking  earthquake  treads, 
While  the  firm  mountains  ihake  their  trembling 

heads. 

As  my  laft  gift,  thefe  arrows  with  the  bow, 
Accept  the  greateil  which  I  can  beftow ; 
My  glory,  all  my  wealth  ;  of  pow'r  to  raife 
Your  name  to  honour  and  immortal  praife  ; 
If  for  wrong'd  innocence  your  fhafts  (hall  fly, 
AS  Jove  by  figns  directs  them  from  the  fky. 

Straight  from  his  mighty  moulders,  as  he  fpoke, 
He  loos'd  and  lodg'd  them  in  a  cavern'd  rock ; 
To  lie  untouch'd,  till  future  care  had  drain'd 
Their  poifon  from  the  venom'd  robe  retain'd. 
And  thus  again  :  the  only  aid  1  need, 
For  all  my  favours  paft,  the  only  meed, 
Is,  that,  with  vengeful  hand,  you  fix  a  dart 
In  cruel  Deianira's  faithlefs  heart : 
Her  treach'rous  meffenger  already  dead, 
Let  her,  the  author  of  his  crime,  fucceed. 
This  awful  fcene  forfake  without  delay  ; 
In  vain  to  mingle  with  my  fate  you  ftay  : 
No  kind  affiftance  can  my  ftate  retrieve, 
Nor  any  friend  attend  me,  and  furvive. 

The  hero  thus  his  tender  care  expreft, 
And  fpread  his  arms  to  clafp  me  to  his  breaft  ; 
But  foon  withdrew  them,  leaft  his  tainted  veins 
Infection  had  convey 'd  and  mortal  pains : 
Silent  I  ftood  in  dreams  of  forrow  drown'd, 
Till  from  my  heart  thefe  words  a  paffage  found : 

0  bid  me  not  forfake  thee,  nor  impofe 
What  wretched  Philoctctes  muft  refufe. 

By  him  I  fwear,  whofe  prefencc  now  proclaim 
The  thunders  awful  voice  and  forked  flame, 
Beneath  whofe  fteps  the  trembling  defert  quakes, 
And  earth  affrighted  to  her  centre  {hakes ; 

1  never  will  forfake  thee,  but  remain 

While  ftruggling  life  thefe  ruin'd  limbs  retain  : 
No  form  of  fate  mall  drive  me  from  thy  fide, 
Nor  death  with  all  its  terrors  e'er  divide  ; 
Tho'  the  fame  ftroke  our  mortal  lives  fhould  end, 
One  flafh  confume  us,  and  our  afhes  blend. 

.  I  fpoke ;  and  to  the  cloudy  fteep  we  turn'd ; 
Along  its  brow  the  kindled  foreft  burn'd. 
The  favage  brood,  defcending  to  the  plains, 
The  fcatter'd  flocks,  and  dread  diftraded  fwains, 
Rufh'd  from  the  making  cliffs :  we  faw  them  come, 
\n  wild,  difordcr  mingled,  through  the  gloom. 


And  now  appear'd  the  defert's  lofty  head, 

A  narrow  rock  with  forcfts  thinly  fpicad. 

His  mighty  hands  difplay'd  aloft  'in  air, 

To  Jove  the  hero  thus  addrefs'd  a  p-ay'r :    [fkict. 

Hear  me,  dread  pow'r  !  whofe  nod  control*  the 

At  whofe  command  the  winged  lightning  flies : 

Almighty  fire;  if  yet  you  deign  to  ov  n 

Alcmena's  wretched  offspring  as  your  Ion ; 

Some  comfort  in  my  agony  impart, 

And  bid  ihy  forked  thunder  rend  this  heart: 

Round  my  devoted  head  it  idly  plays; 

And  aids  the  fire,  which  waftes  me  with  its  ray*; 

By  heat  inflam'd,  this  robe  exert*  its  pow'r, 

My  fcorched  limbs  to  fhrivel  and  devour  ; 

Upon  my  ihoulders,  like  a  dragon,  clings, 

And  fixes  in  my  fleih  a  thoufand  (lings. 

Great  fire  .'  in  pity  to  my  fuit  attend, 

And  with  a  fudden  ftroke  my  being  end. 

As  thus  the  hero  pray'd,  the  lightning  ceas'd, 
And  thicker  darknefs  all  the  hill  embrac  d. 
He  faw  his  fuit  deny'd :  in  fierce  defpair, 
Th&  rooted  pines  he  tore,  and  cedars  fair ; 
And  from  the  crannies  of  the  rifted  rocki, 
Twifted  with  force  immenfe  the  ft  ibborn  oaks. 
Of  thefe  upon  the  cliff  a  heap  he  laid, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  me,  as  I  ftood  difmay'd  : 
Behold,  my  friend !  the  ruler  of  the  Ikies, 
In  agony  invok'd,  my  fuit  denies; 
But  fure  the  oracle  infpir'd  from  heaven, 
Which  in  Dodona's  facrcd  grove  was  given, 
The  truth  declar'd ;  "  that  now  my  toil*  (hall  ccafc, 
"  And  all  my  painful  labours  end  in  peace  : 
Peace,  death  can  only  bring  :  the  raging  fmart, 
Wrapt  with  my  vitals,  mocks  each  healing  art. 
Not  all  the  plants  that  clothe  the  verdant  neld, 
Not  all  the  health  a  thoufand  mountains  yield, 
Which  on  their  tops  the  fage  phyfician  finds, 
Or  digging  from  the  veins  of  flint  unbinds, 
This  fire  can  quench.    And  therefore,  to  obey 
My  laft  commands,  prepare  without  delay. 
When  on  this  pile  you  fee  my  limbs  compos'd, 
Shrink  not,  but  bear  what  muft  not  be  oppos'd  ; 
Approach,  and,  with  an  unrelenting  hand, 
Fix  in  the  boughs  beneath,  a  flaming  brand. 
1  muft  not  longer  truft  this  madding  pain, 
Left  fome  rafh  deed  fhould  all  my  glor)  (lain. 
Lychas  I  flew  upon  the  Ccenian  fliore, 
Who  knew  not,  fure,  the  fatal  gift  he  bore : 
His  guilt  had  taught  him  elfe  to  fly,  nor  wait, 
Till  from  my  rage  he  found  a  fudden  fate. 
1  will  not  Deianira's  action  blame  ; 
Let  heav'n  decide  which  only  knows  her  aim : 
Whether  from  hate  with  treacherous  intent, 
This  fatal  garment  to  her  lord  (he  fent ; 
Or,  by  the  cunning  of  a  foe  b:.tray*d, 
His  vengeance  thus  imprudently  convey'd. 
If  this,  or  that,  I  urg<:  not  my  command, 
Nor  claim  her  fate  from  thy  avenging  hand: 
To  lodge  my  lifelefs  bones  is  all  I  crave, 
Safe  and  uninjur'd  iu  the  peaceful  grave. 

This  with  a  hollow  voice  and  alter'd  look, 
In  agony  extreme,  the  hero  fpoke. 
I  pour'd  a  flood  of  forrow,  and  withdrew, 
Amid  the  kindled  groves,  to  pluck  a  bough ; 
With  which  the  ftructure  at  the  bafc  I  fir'd  : 
On  ev'ry  fide  the  pointed  flames  afpir'd. 
But  ere  involving  fmoke  the  pile  enclosM, 
I  faw  the  hero  on  the  top  repos'd ; 


4*  THE  WORKS 

Serene  as  one  who,  near  the  fountain  laid, 
At  noon  enjoys  the  cool  refrefhing  {hade. 
The  venom'd  garment  hifs'd ;  its  touch  the  fires 
Avoiding,  flop'd  oblique  their  pointed  fpires : 
On  ev'ry  fide  the  pointed  fLme  withdrew, 
And  levell'd,  round  the  burning  ftructure  flew. 
At  laft  victorious  to  the  top  they  rofe ; 
Firm  and  unmov'd  the  hero  faw  them  clofe. 
His  foul  unfetter'd,  fought  the  bleft  ahpdes, 
By  virtue  rais'd  to  mingle  with  the  gods. 
His  bones  m  earth,  with  pious  hands,  I  laid ; 
The  place  to  publifh  nothing  fhall  perfuade ; 
Left  tyrants  now  unaw'd,  and  men  unjuft, 
"With  infults,  mould  profane  his  facred  duft. 
E'er  fmce,  I  haunt  this  folitary  den, 
Retir'd  from  all  the  bufy  paths  of  men  ; 
For  thefe  wild  mountains  only  fuit  my  ftate, 
And  footh  with  kindred  gloom  my  deep  regret. 

He  ended  thus ;  amazement  long  fupprels'd 
My  voice  ;  but  Cleon  anfw'ring  thus  addrels'd  : 
Brave  youth  !  you  offer  to  our  wond'ring  ears, 
£  vents  more  awful  than  tradition  bears. 
Fix'd  in  my  mind  the  hero's  fate  remains, 
I  fee  his  agonies,  and  feel  his  pains. 
Yet  fuffer,  that  for  haplefs  Thebes  I  mourn, 
Whole  faireft  hopes  the  envious  fates  o'erturn. 
If  great  Alcides  liv'd,  her  tow'rs  fhould  Hand 
Safe  and  protected  by  his  mighty  hand  ; 
On  you,  brave  youth !  our  fecond  hopes  depend ; 
To  you  the  arms  of  Hercules  defcend  ; 
He  did  not,  fure,  thole  glorious  gifts  beftow, 
The  fhafts  invincible,  the  mighty  bow ; 
From  which  the  innocent  protection  claim, 
To  dye  the  hills  with  blood  of  favage  game. 
Such  toils  as  thefe  your  glory  ne'er  can  raife, 
Nor  crown  your  merit  with  immortal  praife  ; 
And  with  the  great  Alcides  place  your  name, 
To  ftand  diftinguifh'd  in  the  rolls  of  fame. 

The  hero  thus  :  The  fon  of  Pcean  faid  : 
Myfelf,  my  arms,  I  offer  for  your  aid ; 
If  fav'ring  from  the  flcies,  the  iigns  of  Jove 
Confirm  what  thus  I  purpofe  and  approve. 
For  when  Alcides,  with  his  laft  commands, 
His  bow  and  fhafts  committed  to  my  hands ; 
In  all  attempts  he  charg'd  me  to  proceed 
As  Jove  by  figns  and  auguries  fhould  lead. 
But  thefe  the  rifmg  fun  will  beft  difclofe  ; 
The  feafon  now  invites  to  foft  repofc. 

He  faid ;  and  from  the  hearth  a  flaming  bough, 
To  light  us  through  the  fhady  cavern  drew. 
Far  in  the  deep  recefs,  a  rocky  bed 
W  e  found,  with  fkins  of  mountain  monfters  fpread. 
There  we  compos'd  our  weary  limbs,  and  lay, 
Till  darknefs  fled  before  the  morning  ray. 
Then  rofe  and  climb'd  a  promontory  fteep, 
Whofe  rocky  brow,  impending  o'er  the  deep, 
Shoots  high  into  the  air,  and  lifts  the  eye, 
In  bpundlefs  ftretch,  to  take  a  length  of  fky. 
With  hands  extended  to  th'  ethereal  height, 
The  pow'r  we  call'd  who  rules  the  realms  of  light; 
That  fymbols  fure  his  purpofe  might  explain, 
Whether  the  youth  fhould  aid  us,  or  refrain : 
We  pray'd  ;  and  on  the  left  along  the  vales, 
With  pinions  broad  difplay'd,  an  eagle  fails. 
As  near  the  ground  his  level  flight  he  drew, 
He  ftoop'd,  and  brufh'd  the  thickets  as  he  fltw, 
When  ftarting  from  the  centre  of  a  brake, 
With  horrid  hifs  appear'*!  a  crciled  fcakej 


OF  WILKIF. 

Her  young  to  guard,  her  venem'd  fangs  fhe  rear'd  £ 
Above  the  flirubs  her  wavy  length  appear'd ; 
Againft  his  fvvift  approaches,  as  he  flew, 
On  ev'ry  fide  her  forked  tongue  fhe  through, 
And  armed  jaws;  but  wheeling  from  the  fnarc 
The  fwift  affailant  ftill  efcap'd  in  air ; 
But  Hooping  from  his  pitch,  at  laft  he  tore 
Her  purple  creft,  and  drew  a  ftream  of  gore. 
She  wrcath'd  ;  and,  in  the  fiercenefs  of  her  pain, 
Shook  the  long  thickets  with  her  twifted  train  : 
Relax'd  at  laft,  its  fpires  forgot  to  roll,  ' 
And,  in  a  hifs,  fhe  breath'dher  fiery  foul : 
In  hafte  to  gorge  his  prey,  the  bird  of  Jove 
Down  to  the  bottom  of  the  thicket  drovte  ; 
The  young  defencelefs  from  the  covert  drew ; 
Devoui  'd  them  ftraight,  and  to  the  mountains  flew. 
This  omen  feen,  another  worfe  we  hear ; 
The  fubterraneous  thunder  greets  our  ear : 
The  worft  of  all  the  figns  which  -augurs  know ; 
A  dire  prognoftic  of  impending  woe. 

-Amaz'd  we  flood,  till  Phikxftetes  broke 
Our  long  dejected  filence  thus,  and  fpoke : 
Warriors  of  Thebes !  the  auguries  diffuade 
My  purpofe,  and  withhold  me  from  your  aid  ; 
Though  pity  moves  me,  and  ambition  draws, 
To  marc  your  labours,  and  affert  your  caufe ; 
In  fight  the  arms  of  Hercules  to  fhow, 
And  from  his  native  ramparts  drive  the  foe. 
But  vain  it  is  againft  the  gods  to  ftrive ; 
Whale  counfels  ruin  nations  or  retrieve  ; 
Without  their  favour,  valour  nought  avails, 
And  human  prudence  felf-fubvertcd  fails  ; 
For  irrefiftibly  their  pow'r  prefides 
In  all  events,  and  good  and  ill  divides. 
Let  Thebes  affembled  at  the  altars  wait, 
And  long  proceffions  crowd  each  facred  gate  : 
With  facrifice  appeas'd,  and  humble  pray'r, 
Their  omens  frultrated,  the  gods  may  fpare. 
To-day,  my  guells,  repofe  ;  to-morrow  fail, 
If  heav'n  propitious  fends  a  profp'rous  gale  : 
For,  fhifting  to  the  fouth,  the  weftern  breeze 
Forbids  you  now  to  trull  the  faithlefs  feas. 

The  hero  thus ;  in  filenqe  fad  we  mourn'd  ; 
And  to  the  folitary  cave  return'd, 
Defpairmg  of  fuccefs ;  our  grief  he  fhar'd, 
And  for  relief  a  cheering  bowl  prepar'd  ; 
The  vintage  which  the  grape  fpontaneons  yields. 
By  art  untutor'd,  on  the  woodland  fields, 
He  fought  with  care,  and  mingled  in  the  bowl, 
A  plant,  of  pow'r  to  calm  the  troubled  foul; 
Its  name  Nepenthe  ;  fwains,  on  defert  ground, 
Do  often  glean  it,  elfe  but  rarely  found  ; 
This  in  the  bowl  he  mix'd ;  and  foon  we  found, 
In  foft  oblivion,  all  our  forrows  drown'd : 
We  felt  no  more  the  agonies  of  care, 
And  hope,  fucceeding,  dawn'd  upondefpair. 
From  morn  we  feafted,  till  the  fetting  ray 
Retir'd,  and  ev'ning  {hades  expell'd  the  day ; 
Then  in  the  dark  recefies  of  the  cave, 
To  flumber  foft,  our  willing  limbs  we  gave : 
But  ere  the  morning,  from  the  eaft,  appear'd, 
And  fooner  than  the  early  lark  is  heard, 
Cleon  awak'd,  my  carelefs  flumber  broke, 
And  bending  to  my  ear,  in  whifpers  fpoke  : 
Dienices  !  while  {lumbering  thus  fecure, 
We  think  not  what  our  citizens  endure.        [pears 
The  worft  the  figns  have  threaten'd,  nought  ap« 
With  hupgier  afpedt  to  difpel  our  fears ; 


EPIG6NIAD,  BOOK  VIT. 


Alcides  lives  not,  and  his  friend  in  vain 
To  arms  we  call,  while  auguries  reftrain: 
Returning  thus,  we  bring  the  Theban  (late 
But  hopes  deceiv'd,  and  omens  of  her  fate : 
Better  fuccefs  our  labours  fhall  attend, 
Nor  all  our  aims  in  difappointment  end  ; 
If  you  approve  my  purpofe,  nor  difTuade 
What  now  I  counfel  for  your  country's  aid. 
Soon  as  the  fun  diiplays  his  early  beam, 
The  arms  of  great  Alcides  let  us  claim ; 
Then  for  Bceotia's  fliores  diredl  our  fails ; 
And  force  muft  fecond  if  perfuafion  fails : 
Againft  reproach  neceflity  mail  plead ; 
Cenfurc  confute,  and  judify  the  deed. 

The  hero  thus,  and  ceas'd  :  with  pity  mov' tl, 
And  zeal  for  Thebes,  I  raflily  thus  approv'd. 
You  counfel  well ;  but  prudence  would  advife 
To  work  by  cunning  rather,  and  furprifc, 
Than  force  declar'd ;  his  venom'd  (hafts  you  know, 
Which  fly  refiftlefs  from  th'  Herculean  bow ; 
A  fafe  occafion  now  the  filent  hour 
Of  midnight  yields ;  when,  by  the  gentle  pow'r 
Of  carelels  flumber  bound,  the  hero  lies, 
Our  necefiary  fraud  will  'fcape  his  eyes ; 
Without  the  aid  of  force  fhall  reach  its  aim, 
With  danger  lefs  incurr'd,  and  lefs  of  blame. 

I  counfell'd  thus;  and  Cleon  draight  approv'd. 
In  filence  from  the  dark  recefs  we  mov'd  ; 
Towards  the  hearth,  with  wary  fteps,  we  came, 
The  allies  ftirr'd,  and  rous'd  the  flumb'ring  flame. 
On  every  fide  in  vain  we  turn'd  our  eyes, 
Nor,  as  our  hopes  had  promis'd,  found  the  prize  : 
Till  to  the  couch  where  Philocletes  lay, 
The  quiver  led  us  by  its  filver  ray  ; 
For  in  a  panther's  fur  together  ty'd, 
His  bow  and  (hafts,  the  pillow's  place  fupply'd ; 
Thither  I  went  with  careful  fteps  and  flow ; 
And  by  degrees  obtain'd  th'  Herculean  bow  : 
The  quiver  next  to  difengage  efiay'd; 
It  ftuck  entangled,  but  at  lad  obey'd.  " 
The  prize  obtain'd,  we  haden  to  the  ftrand, 
And  roufe  the  mariners  and  ftraight  command 
The  canvafs  to  unfurl :  a  gentle  gale 
Fayour'd  our  courfe,  and  fill'd  the  fwelling  fail : 
The  fliores  retir'd  ;  and  when  the  morning  ray 
Afcended,  from  the  deep,  th'  ethereal  way ; 
Upon  the  right  Cenxum's  beach  appear' d, 
And  Pelion  on  the  left  his  f.mmit  rear'd. 
All  day  we  fail'd  ;  but  when  the  felting  light 
Approach'd  the  ocean,  from  th'  Olympian  height, 
The  breeze  was  hufh'd ;  and,  ftretch'd  acrofs  the 

main, 

Like  mountains  rifing  on  the  wat'ry  plain, 
The  clouds  colle&ed  on  the  billows  flood, 
And,  with  incumbent  (hade,  obfcur'd  the  flood. 
Thither  a  current  bore  us ;  foon  we  found 
A  night  of  vapour  doting  fad  around. 
Loofe  hung  the  empty  fail :  we  ply'd  our  oars, 
And  drove  to  reach  Euboea's  friendly  fliores ; 
But  ftrove  in  vain :  for  erring  from  the  courfe, 
In  mazes  wide,  the  rower  fpent  his  force. 
Seven  days  and  nights  we  try'd  fome  port  to  gam, 
Where   Greek  or  barb'rous  fliores  exclude  the 

main ; 

But  knew  not,  whether  backwards  or  before, 
Or  on  the  right  or  left  to  feek  the  (hore  : 
Till,  rifmg  on  the  eighth,  a  gentle  breeze 
Drove  the  light  fog,  and  brufli'd  the  curhng  leas. 


Our  canvafs  to  its  gentle  pow'r  we  fpread, 
And  fix'd  our  oars,  and  follow'd  as  it  led. 
Before  us  foon,  impending  from  above, 
Through  parting  clouds,  we  faw  a  lofty  grove, 
Aiarm'd,  the  fail  we  flacken,  and  explore 
The  deeps  and  (hallows  of  the  unknown  fhorc. 
Near  on  the  right  a  winding  creek  appcar'd, 
Thither,  directed  by  the  pole,  we  ftecr'd; 
And  landed  on  the  beach,  by  fate  mifled, 
Nor  knew  again  the  port  from  which  we  fled. 
The  gods  theiufelves  deceiv'd  us :  to  our  eye* 
New  caverns  open,  airy  cliffs  ariie ; 
That  Philodletes  might  again  poflefs 
His  arms,  and  heav'n  our  injflry  tedrefs. 

The  unknown  region  purpos'd  to  explore, 
Cleon,  with  me  alone,  forfakes  the  (horc ; 
Back  to  the  cave  we  left  by  angry  fate 
Implicitely  conducted,  at  the  gate 
The  injur'd  youth  we  found ;  a  thick  difguife 
His  native  form  conceal'd,  and  mock'd  our  eyes; 
For  the  black  locks  in  waving  ringlets  fprcad, 
A  wreath  of  hoary  white  involv'd  his  head, 
Beneath  a  load  of  years,  he  feem'd  to  bend, 
His  bread  to  fink,  his  (houldcrs  to  afccnd. 
He  faw  us  (Iraight,  and,  rifing  from  his  feat, 
Began  with  (harp  reproaches  to  repeat 
Our  crime;  but  could  not  thus  fulpicion  give; 
So  ftrong  is  error,  when  the  gods  deceive ! 
We  queftion'd  of  the  country  as  we  came, 
By  whom  inhabited,  and  what  its  name ; 
How  far  from  Thebes :    that  thither  we  were 

bound ; 

And  thus  the  wary  youth  our  error  found. 
Mnooth'd  to  deceive,  his  accent  (Iraight  he  turn'd, 
While  in  his  bread  the  third  of  vengeance  burn'd: 
And  thinking  now  his  bow  and  (hafts  rcgain'd, 
Reply'd  with  hofpitable  kindnels  feign'd . 
On  Ida's  facred  height,  my  guefts!   you  ftand  ; 
Here  Priam  rules,  in  peace, -a  happy  land. 
Twelve  cities  own  him,  on  the  Phrygian  plain, 
Their  lord,  and  twelve  fair  iflauds  on  the  main. 
From  hence  toThebes  in  feven  days  fpace  you'll  fcu'I, 
If  Jove  propitious  fends  a  profp'rous  gait. 
But  now  accept  a  homely  meal,  and  deign 
To  (hare  what  heav'n  affords  a  humble  fwain. 
He  faid;   and  brought  a  bowl  with  vintage 

fill'd, 

From  berries  wild,  and  mountain  grapes  diiliU'd, 
Of  largeft  fize  ;  and  plac'd  it  on  a  rock, 
Under  the  covert  of  a  rereading  oak ; 
Around  it  autumn's  mellow  Gores  he  laid, 
Which  the  fun  ripens  in  the  woodland  (hade. 
Our  thirft  and  hunger  thus  at  once  allay'd, 
To  Cleon  turning,  Philodetes  faid  : 
The  bow  you  wear,  of  fuch  unulual  fize, 
Wjth  wonder  dill  I  view,  and  curious  eyes ; 
For  length,  for  thicknefs,  and  the  workman's  art, 
Surpafling  all  I've  feen  in  ev'iy  part. 

Diflembling,  thus  inquir'd  the  wary  youth. 
And  thus  your  valiant  Ion  declar'd  the  truth  : 
Father !  the  weapon  which  you  thus  coinmtnd,  ^ 
1  he  force  of  great  Alcides  once  did  bend ;    [duM, 
Thefe  (hafts  the  fame  which  monfters  fierce  fub- 
And  lawlefs  men  with  vengeance  jud  purfu'd. 

The  hero  ihus ;  and  Paan's  fon  again ; 
What  now  I  a(k,  refufe  not  to  explain  : 
Whether  the  hero  dill. exerts  his  might, 
For  innocence  opprefs'd,  y»d  injur'd  r^ht  f 


THE  WORKS   OF  W!  I/It  IE. 


Or  yields  to  fate  ;  and  with  the  mighty  dead, 
From  toil  repofes  in  the  Elyfian  (hade  ! 
Sure,  if  he  liv'd,  he  would  not  thus  forgo 
His  {hafts  invincible  and  mighty  bow, 
By  which,  he  oft  immortal  honour  gain'd 
For  wrongs  redrefs'd  and  lawlefs  force  reftrain'd. 
The  rage  fupprefs'd  which  in  his  bofom  burn'd, 
He  queftion'd  thus ;  and  Cleon  thus  return'd : 
What  we  have  heard  of  Hercules,  I'll  {how 
What  by  report  we  learn'd,  and  what  we  know. 
From  Thebes  to  Oeta's  wildernefs  we  went, 
With  fupplications,  to  the  hero,  fent 
From  all  our  princes ;  that  he  would  exert 
His  matchlcfs  valour  on  his  country's  part, 
Againft  whofe  ftate  united  foes  confpire, 
And  wafte  her  wide  domain  with  fword  and  fire. 
There  on  the  cliffs  which  bound  the  neighb'ring 

main, 

We  found  the  manfion  of  a  lonely  fwain ; 
Much  like  to  this,  but  that  its  rocky  mouth 
The  cooling  north  refpects,  as  this  the  fouth ; 
And,  in  a  corner  of  the  cave  conceal'd, 
The  club  which  great  Alcides  us'd  to  wield. 
Wrapt  in  his  fhaggy  robe,  the  lion's  fpoils, 
The  mantle  which  he  wore  in  all  his  toils. 
At  ev'n  a  hunter  in  the  cave  appear'd  ; 
From  whom  the  fate  of  Hercules  we  heard. 
He  told  us  that  he  faw  the  chief  expire, 
That  he  himfelf  did  light  his  fun'ral  fire ; 
And  boafted,  that  the  hero  had  refign'd 
To  him,  this  bow  and  quiver,  as  his  friend  : 
Oft  feen  before,  thefe  deadly  fhafts  we  know, 
And  tip'd  with  ftars  of  gold  th'  Herculean  bow : 
But  of  the  hero's  fate,  the  tale  he  told, 
Whether  'tis  true  I  cannot  now  unfold. 

He  fpoke.     The  youth  with  indignation  burn'd, 
Yet  calm  in  outward  femblance,  thus  return'd: 
I  muft  admire  the  man  who  could  refign 
To  you  thefe  armsfo  precious  and  divine, 
'Which,  to  the  love  of  fuch  a  friend,  he  ow'd, 
Great  was  the  gift  if  willingly  beftow'd  : 
By  force  they  could  not  eafily  be  gain'd, 
And  fraud,!  know, your  gen'rous  fouls  difdain'd. 

Severely  fmiling,  thus  the  hero  fpoke  ; 
With  confcious  fhame  we  heard,  nor  filence  broke : 
And  thus  again :  The  only  boon  I  claim, 
Which,  to  your  hoft  deny'd,  would  merit  blame ; 
Is,  th*t  my  hands  that  weapon  may  embrace, 
And  on  the  flaxen  cord  an  arrow  place  ; 
An  honour  which  I  covet;  though  we  mourn'd, 
By  great  Alcides,  once  our  {late  o'crturn'd : 
When  proud  Laomedon  the  hero  brav'd, 
Nor  paid  the  ranfom  for  his  daughter  fav'd. 

Difiembling  thus,  did  Philoctetes  ftrive 
His  inftruments  of  vengeance  to  retrieve  : 
And,  by  the  fates  deceiv'd,  in  evil  hour, 
The  bow  and  {hafts  we  yielded  to  his  pow'r, 
In  mirthful  mood,  provoking  him  to  try 
Whether  the  weapon  would  his  force  obey; 
For  weak  he  feem'd,  like  thofe  whofe  nerves  have 
loft,  [boaft. 

Through  age,    the  vigour  which  in  youth  they 
The  belt  around  his  {boulders  firft  he  flung, 
And  glitt'ring  by  his  fide  the  quiver  hung  : 
Comprcfs'd  with  all  his  force  the  ftubborn  yew 
He  bent,  and  from  the  cafe  an  arrow  drew : 
And  yielding  to  his  rage,  in  furious  mood, 
With  aim  dyeft  againjt  us  full  he  Hood, 


For  vengeance  arm'd ;  and  now  the  thick  difguifc* 

Which  veil'd  his  form  before,  and  mock'd  our  eyes, 

Vanifh'd  in  air ;  our  error  then  appear'd ; 

[  faw  the  vengeance  of  the  gods,  and  fear'd. 

Before  him  to  the  ground  my  knees  I  bow'd, 

And,  with  extended  hands,  for  merty  fu'd. 

But  Cleon,  fierce  and  fcorning  to  entreat, 

His  weapon  drew,  and  rufli'd  upon  his  fate : 

For  as  he  came,  the  fatal  arrow  flew, 

And  from  his  heart  the  vital  current  drew ; 

Supine  he  fell ;  and,  welling  from  the  wound, 

A  tide  of  gore  impurpled  all  the  ground. 

The  fon  Paan  {looping  drew  the  dart, 

Yet  warm  with  flaughter,  from  the  hero's  heart ; 

And  turn'd  it  full  on  me :  with  humble  pray'r 

And  lifted  hands,  I  mov'd  him  ftill  to  fpare. 

At  laft  he  yielded,  from  his  purpofe  fway'd, 

And  anfw'ring  thus  in  milder  accents,  faid : 

No  favour  fure  you  merit ;  and  the  caui'e, 

Of  right  infring'd  and  hofpitable  laws, 

Would  juftify  revenge ;  but  as  you  claim, 

With  Hercules,  your  native  foil  the  fame ; 

I  now  Ihall  pardon  for  the  hero's  fake, 

Nor,  though  the  gods  approve  it,  vengeance  take. 

But  ftraight  avoid  my  prefence ;  and  unbind, 

With  fpeed,  your  flying  canvafs  to  the  wind : 

For  if  again  to  meet  thofe  eyes  you  come, 

No  pray'rs  {hall  change,  or  mitigate  your  doom. 

With  frowning  afpect  thus  the  hero  faid, 
His  threats  I  fear'd,  and  willingly  obey'd. 
Straight  in  his  purple  robe  the  dead  I  bound, 
Then  to  my  ftioulders  rais'd  him  from  the  ground ; 
And  from  the  hills  defcending  to  the  bay, 
Where  anchor'd  near  the  beach  our  galley  lay, 
The  reft  conven'd,  with  forrow  to  relate 
This  anger  of  the  gods  and  Cleon's  fate : 
The  hero's  fate  his  bold  companions  mourn'd, 
And  ev'ry  breaft  with  keen  refentment  burn'd. 
They  in  their  heady  tranfports  ftraight  decreed, 
His  fall  with  vengeance  to  requite  or  bleed. 
1  fear'd  the  angry  gods  ;  and  gave  command, 
With  fail  and  oar,  to  fly  the  fatal  ftrand  ; 
Enrag'd  and  fad,  the  mariners  obey'd, 
Unfurl'd  the  canvafs,  and  the  anchor  weigh'd. 
Our  courfe,  behind,  the  weftern  breezes  fped, 
And  from  the  coaft  with  heavy  hearts  we  fled. 
All  day  they  favour'd,  but  with  evening  ceas'd ; 
And  ftraight  a  tempdl,  from  the  ftormy  eaft, 
In  oppofition  full,  began  to  blow, 
And  rear  in  ridges  higli  the  deep  below. 
•Againft  its  boift'rous  fvvay  in  vain  we  ftrovej 
Obliquely  to  the  Thracian  coaft  we  drove ; 
Where  Pelion  lifts  his  head  aloft  in  air, 
With  painted  cliffs  and  precipices  bare ; 
Thither  our  courfe  we  fteer'd,  and  on  the  ftrand 
Defcending,  fix'd  our  cable  to  the  land. 
There  twenty  days  we  ftay'd,  and  wifh'd  in  vain 
A  favourable  breeze,  to  crofs  the  main ; 
For  with  unceafing  rage  the  tempeft  rav'd, 
And  o'er  the  rocky  beach  the  ocean  heav'd. 
At  laft  with  care  the  hero's  limbs  we  burn'd, 
And,  water'd  with  our  tears,  his  bones  inurn'd. 
There,  where  a  promontory's  height  divides, 
Extended  in  the  deep,  the  parted  tides, 
His  tomb  is  feen,  which,  from  its  airy  ftand, 
Marks  to  the  mariner  the  diftant  land. 

This,  princes!  is  the  truth  ;  and  though  the ivi!i 
Of  hcav'nj,  the  fo v'reign  caufe  of  good  and.  ill.    •  , 


Has  dafh'd  our  hopes,  and,  for  the  good  in  view 
With  griefs  afflidls  us  and  difafters  new  :     • 
Yet,  innocent  of  all,  I  juftly  claim 
To  ftand  exempt  from  punifliment  or  blame.  . 
That  zeal  for  Thebes  'gainft  hofpitable  laws 
Prevail'd,  and  ardour  in  my  country's  caufe, 
I  freely  have  confefs'd  ;  but  fure  if  wrong 
Was  e'er  permitted  to  inducement  ftrong, 
This  claims  to  be  excus'd  :  our  country's  need, 
With  all  who  hear  it  will  for  favour  plead. 

He  ended  thus.     Unable  to  fubdue          [drew : 
His   grief:    the  monarch  from  the  throne    with 
in  Client  wonder  fix'd,  the  reft  remain'd  ; 
Till  Clytophon  the  gen'ral  fenfe  explain'd ; 


EPIGONIAD,  BOOK  VII. 


45 


Your  juft  defence,  we  mean  not  to  refute ; 

Your  prudence  cenfure,  or  your  zeal  accufe  : 

To  heav'n  we  owe  the  valiant  Cleon's  fate," 

With  each  difafter  which  afflicls  the  ftate. 

Soon  as  the  fun  forfakes  the  eafttrn  main, 

At  ev'ry  altar  let  a  bull  be  flain  ; 

And  Thebes  aflfembled,  move  the  pow'rs  to  fpare, 

With  vows  of  facrifke  and  humble  pray'r : 

But  now  the  night  invites  to  foft  rcpofe, 

The  momentary  cure  of  human  woes; 

The  Itars  defcend  ;  and  foon  the  morning  ray 

Shall  route  us  to  the  labours  of  the  day. 

The  hero  thus.    In  filence  all  approv'd, 

And  riling,  various,  from  th'  affembly  mov'd. 


BOOK    VIII. 


BEHIND  the  palace,  where  a  ftream  defcends, 

Its  lonely  walks  a  fhady  grove  extends ; 

Once  facred,  now  for  common  ufe  ordain'd, 

By  war's  wide  licence  and  the  axe  profan'd: 

Thither  the  monarch  from  th'  aflembly  went 

Alone,  his  fury  and  defpair  to  vent, 

And  thus  to  Heav'n  :  Diead  pow'r  !  whofe  fove- 

reign  fway 

The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey  ! 
From  me  expect  not  fuch  applaufe  to  hear, 
As  fawning  votaries  to  thine  altars  bear ; 
But  truth  fevere.     Although  the  forked  brand, 
Which  for  deftruclion  arms  thy  mighty  hand, 
Were  levell'd  at  my  head  ;  a  mind  I  hold, 
By  prefent  ills,  or  future,  uncontrouPd. 
Beneath  thy  fway  the  race  of  mortals  groan  j 
Felicity  fincere  is  felt  by  none  : 
Delufive  hope  th'  unpra&is'd  mind  affails, 
And,  by  ten  thoufand  treach'rous  arts  prevails : 
Through  all  the  earth  the  fair  deceiver  ftrays, 
And  wretched  man  to  mifery  betrays. 
Our  crimes  you  punifli,  never  teach  to  flmn, 
When,  blind  to  folly,  6n  our  fate  we  run : 
Hence  fighs  and  groans  thy  tyrant  reign  confefs, 
With  ev'ry  rueful  fymptom  of  diftrefs. 
Here  war  unchain'd  exerts  his  wafteful  pow'r; 
Here  famine  pines ;  difeafes  there  devour, 
And  lead  a  train  of  all  the  ills  that  know 
To  fhorten  life,  or  lengthen  it  in  woe. 
All  men  are  curft ;  but  I,  above  the  reft, 
With  tenfold  vengeance  for  my  crimes  opprefs'd : 
With  hoftile  pow'rs  befet  my  tott'ring  reign, 
The  people  wafted,  and  my  children  flain  ; 
In  fwift  approach,  I  fee  deftruclion  come, 
But,  with  a  mind  unmov'd,  I  meet  my  doom  ; 
For  know,   ftern  pow'r  !  whofe  vengeance  has 

decreed 

That  Creon,  after  all  his  fons,  fliould  bleed ; 
As'from  the  lummit  of  fome  defert  rock, 
The  fport  of  tempefts,  falls  the  leaflefs  oak, 
Of  all  his,  honours  ftript,  thou  ne'e^flialt  find, 
Weakly  fubmifs,  or  ftupidly  refign'd 
This  dauntlefs  heart ;  but  purpos'd  to  debate 
Thy  ftern  decrees.,  and  burft  the  chains  of  fate. 


He  faid  ;  and  turning  where  the  heralds  (land 
All  night  by  turns,  and  wait  their  lord's  command; 
Meneftheus  there  and  Hegefander  found, 
And  Phaemius  fage,  for  valour  once  renown'd, 
He  charg'd  them  thus:  Beyond  the  eaftern  tow'r% 
Summon  to  meet  in  arms  our  martial  pow'n. 
In  filence  let  them  move  ;  let  figns  command, 
And  mute  obedience  reign  through  ev'ry  band  ; 
For  when  the  eaft  with  early  twilight  glows, 
We  rufti,  from  cover'd  ambufh,  on  our  foes 
Secure  and  unprepar'd :  the  truce  we  fwore, 
Our  plighted  faith,  the  feal  of  wine  and  gore. 
No  ties  I  hold  ;  all  piety  difclaim  : 
Adverfe  to  me  the  gods,  and  I  to  them. 
The  angry  monarch  thus  his  will  declar'd; 
His  rage  the  heralds  fear'd,  and  ftraight  repair'd 
To  roufe  the  warriors.    Now  the  morning  light 
Begins  to  mingle  with  the  fliades  of  night : 
In  ev'ry  ftreet  a  glitt'ring  ftream  appears, 
Of  polifli'd  helmets  mix'd  with  ftiining  fpears : 
Towards  the  eaftern  gate  they  drire  along. 
Nations  and  tribes,  an  undiftinguUh'd  throng  ? 
Creon  himielf  fuperior,  in  his  car, 
Receiv'd  them  coming,  and  dil'pos'd  the  war. 

And  now  the  Argives  from  their  tents  proceed, 
With  rites  fepulchral  to  entomb  the  dead. 
The  king  of  men,  amid  the  fun'ral  fires, 
The  chiefs  aflembles,  and  the  work  infpires. 
And  thus  the  Pclian  fage,  in  council  wife  : 
Princes  !  I  view,  with  wonder  and  furprife. 
Yon  field  abandon'd,  where  the  foe  purfu'd 
Their  fun'ral.rites  before,  with  toil  renew'd  : 
Nor  half  their  dead  interred,  they  now  al'ftain, 
And  filence  reigns  through  all  the  fmoky  plain. 
Thence  jealoufy  and  fear  poflefs  my  mind 
Of  faith  infring'd,  and  treachery  defign'd  : 
Behind  thofe  woody  heights,  behind  thofe  tow'U, 
I  dread,  in  ambuihlaid,  the  Theban  pow'rs; 
With  purpofe  to  aflault  us,  when  they  know 
That  we,  confiding,  leaft  expect  a  foe  : 
Let  half  the  warriors  arm,  and  rtand  preparM, 
For  fudden  violence,  the  hoft  to  guard ; 
While,  in  the  mournful  rites,  the  reft  proceed, 
Due  to  the  honour'd  relics  of  the  dead. 


WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


Thus  as  lie  fpoke  t  approaching  from  afar, 
The  hoftile  pow'rs,  embattled  for  the  war, 
Appear 'd  ;    and   ftreaming  from   their   polifh'd 

Ihields, 

A  blaze  of  fplendour  brighten'd  all  the  fields. 
And  thus  the  king  of  men,  with  lifted  eyes, 
And  both  his  hands  extended  to  the  fkies  : 
Ye  pow'rs  fupreme  I  whofe  unrefifted  fway 
The  fate  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey  I 
Let  all  the  plagues,  which  perjury  attend, 
At  once,  and  fudden,  on  our  foes  defcend : 
Let  not  the  facred  feal  of  wine  and  gore, 
The  hands  we  plighted,  and  the  oaths  we  fwore, 
Be  now  in  vain  ;  but  from  your  bright  abodes, 
Confound  the  bold  defpifers  of  the  gods. 

He  pray'd  ;  and  nearer  came  the  hoftile  train, 
Witb  fwift  approach  advancing  on  the  plain  ; 
Embattled  thick,  as  when,  at  fall  of  night, 
A  fhepherd,  from  fome  promontory's  height, 
Approaching  from  the  deep,  a  fog  defcries, 
Which  hov'ring  lightly  o'er  the  billows  flies; 
By  breezes  borne,  the  folid  foon  it  gains, 
Climbs     the  fteep   hills,    and   darkens   all    the 

plains ! 

Silent  and  fwift  the  Theban  pow'rs  drew  near; 
The  chariots  led,  a  phalanx  clos'd  the  rear. 

Confufion  ftraight  through  all  the  hoft  arofe, 
Stirr'd  like  the  ocean  when  a  tempeft  blows. 
Some  arm  for  fight  ;  the  reft  to  terror  yield, 
Inactive  ftand,  or  trembling  quit  the  field. 
On  ev'ry  fide,  affaults  the  deafen'd  ear 
The  difcord  loud  of  tumult,  rage,  and  fear. 
Superior  in  his  car,  with  ardent  eyes, 
The  king  of  men  through  all  the  army  flies  : 
The  ram  reftrains,  the  cold  with  courage  fires, 
And  all  with  hope  and  confidence  infpires  ; 
As  when  the  deep,  in  liquid  mountains  hurl'd, 
Affanlts  the  ro'cky  limits  of  the  world  : 
When  tempefts  with  unlicenc'd  fury  rave, 
And  fweep  from  fhore  to  ftiore  the  flying  wave : 
If  he,  to  whom  each  pow'r  of  ocean  bends, 
To  quell  fuch  uproar,  from  the  deep  afcends, 
Serene,  amidft  the  wat'ry  war,  he  rides, 
And  fires,  with  his  voice,  the  moving  tides  : 
Such  feem'd  the  monarch.     From  th'  Olympian 

height, 

The  martial  maid  precipitates  her  flight ; 
To  aid  her  fav'rite  hoft  the  goddefs  came, 
Mentor  (lie  feem'd,  her  radiant  arms  the  fame  ; 
Who  with  Ulyfles  brought  a  chofen  band 
Of  warriors  from  the  Cephalenian  ftrand  ; 
Already  arm'd,  the  valiant  youth  flie  found, 
And  arming  for  the  fight  his  warriors  round. 
And  thus  began  :  Brave  prince  !  our  foes  appear 
For  battle  order'd,  and  the  fight  is  near. 
Dauntlcfs  they  come  fuperior  and  elate, 
While  fear  unmans  us,  and  refigns  to  fate. 
Would  fooie  immortal  from  th'  Olympian  height 
"Dfecend,  and  for  a  momen;  itop  the  fight ; 
From  fad  dejection  rous'd,  and  cold  defpair, 
We  yet  might  arm  us,  and  for  war  prepare  ; 
But  if  on  human  aid  we  m.uft  depend, 
Nor  hope  to  fee  the  fav'ring  gods  defcend, 
Great  were  the.  hero's  praife,  who  now  could  boaft 
From  ruin  imminent  to  fave  the  hoft  ! 
The  danger  near  fome  prompt  espedient  claims, 
And  prudence  triumphs  oft  in  worit  extremes. 


Thus,  in  a  form  afluir.'d;  the  martial  maid} 
The  generous  warrior,  thus  replying,  faid  : 
In  youth,  I  cannot  hope  to  win  the  praife, 
With  which   experience   crowns  a  length    of 

days : 

Weak  are  the  hopes  that  on  my  counfels  ftand, 
To  combats,  nor  pnctis'd  in  command  : 
But  as  the  gods,  to  fave  a  finking  ftate, 
Or  fnatch  an  army  from  the  jaws  of  fate, 
When  prudence  ftand*  confounded,  oft  fuggeft 
A  prompt  expedient  to  fome  vulgar  breaft; 
To  your  difcerning  ear  I  ftiall  expofe 
What  now  my  mind  excites  me  todifclofe. 
Sav'd  from  th*  unfinifVd 'honours  of  the  flain, 
The  mingled  fpoils  of  forefts  load  the  plain  : 
In  heaps  contiguous  round  the  camp  they  lie, 
A.  fence  too  weak  to  ftop  the  enemy  : 
But  if  we  mix  them  with  the  feeds  of  fire. 
Which  unextinguifh'd  glow  in  ev'ry  pyre» 
Again.1  the  foe  a  fudden  wall  fliall  rife, 
Of  flame  and  fmoke  afcending  to  the  fkies : 
The  fteed  difmay'd  fhall  backward  hurl  the  car  ; 
Mix  with  the  phalanx,  and  confound  the  war. 

He  faid.    The  goddefs,  in  her  confcious  breaft, 
A  mother's  triumph  for  a  fon  poffefs'd, 
Who  emulates  his  fire  in  glorious  deeds, 
And,  with  his  virtue,  to  his  fame  fucceeds  : 
Graceful  the  goddefs  turn'd,  and  with  a  voice» 
Bold,  and  fuperior  to  the  vulgar  noice, 
O'er  all  the  field  commands  the  woods  to  fire  ; 
Straight  to  obey  a  thoufands  hands  confpire. 
On  ev'ry  fide  the  fpreading  flame  extends, 
And,  roll'd  in  cloudy  wreaths,  the  fmoke  afcends. 

Creon  beheld,  enrag'd  to  be  withftood  : 
Like  fome  fierce  lion  when  he  meets  a  flood 
Or  trench  defenfive,  which  his  rage  reftrains 
For  flocks  unguarded,  left  by  carelefs  fwains; 
O'er  all  the  field  he  fends  his  eyes  afar, 
To  mark  fit  entrance  fur  a  pointed  war: 
Near  on  the  right  a  narrow  fpace  he  found, 
Where  fun'ral  afhes  fmok'd  upon  the  ground  : 
Thither  the  warriors  of  the  Theban  hoft, 
Whofe  martial  (kill  he  priz'd  and  valour  moft, 
The  monarch  fent,  Chalcidamus  the  ftrong, 
Who  from  fair  Thefpia  led  his  martial  throng, 
Where  Helicon  erects  his  verdant  head, 
And  crowns  the  champaign  with  a  Ipfty  fhade: 
Oechalia's  chief  was  added  to  the  band, 
For  valour  fam'd  and  fkilfui  in  command; 
Eritheus,  with  him,  his  brother  came, 
Of  worth  unequal,  and  unequal  fame. 
Rhefus,  with  thefe,  the  Thracian  leader,  went. 
To  merit  fame,  by  high  atchievements,  bent; 
Of  ftature  tall,  he  fcorns  the  pointed  fpear, 
And  crufhes  with  his  mace  the  ranks  of  war  : 
With  him  twelve  leaders  of  his  native  train, 
In  combats,  taught  the  bounding  fteed  to  rein, 
By  none  furpafs'd  who  boaft  fuperior  (kill 
To  fend  the  winged  arrow  fwift  to  kill, 
Mov'd  to  the  fight.     The  reft  of  vulgar  name, 
Though  brave  in  combat,  were  unknown  to  fame. 

Their  bold  invafion  dauntlefs  to  oppofe, 
Full  in  the  raidrt  the  bulk  of  Ajax  role  ; 
Unarm'd  he  ftood  ;  but,  in  his  mighty  hand, 
Brandilh'd,  with  gefture  fierce,  a  burning  brand, 
Snatch'd  from  the  afhes  of  a  fun'ral  fire  ; 
An  olive  s  trunk,  five  cubit  lengths  entire. 


EPIGONIAD,  BOOK VIII. 


Arm'd  for  the  fight,  the  Cretan  monarch  ftood; 
And  Merion,  thirfting  ftill  with  hoftile  blood  ; 
The  prince  of  Ithaca,  with  him  who  led 
The  youth,  in  Sicyon,  and  Pellene,  bred. 
But  ere  they  clos'd,  the  Thracian  leader  prefs'd, 
With  eager  courage,  far  before  the  reft  ; 
Him  Ajax  met,  inflam'd  with  equal  rage: 
Between  the  wond'ring  hofts  the  chiefs  engage  : 
Their  weighty  weapons  round  their  heads  they 

throw, 

And  fwift,  and  heavy  falls  each  thund'ring  blow ; 
As  when  in  ^Etna's  caves  the  giant  brood, 
The  one-ey'd  fervants  of  the  Lemnian  god, 
In  order  round  the  burning  anvil  (land, 
And  forge,  with  weighty  ftrokes.  the  forked  brand: 
The  (baking  hills  their  fervid  toil  confeis, 
And  echoes  rattling  through  each  dark  recefs  : 
So   rag'd   the  fight;    their    mighty  limbs    they 

drain  ; 

And  oft  their  ponderous  maces  fall  in  vain : 
For  neither  chief  was  deftin'd  yet  to  bleed ; 
But  fate  at  lad  the  victory  decreed. 
The  Salaminian  hero  aitn'd  a  ftroke, 
Which  thund'ring  on  the  Thracian  helmet  broke  : 
Stunn'd    by    the    boift'rous   (hock,    the   warrior 

reel'd 

With  giddy  poife,  then  funk  upon  the  field. 
Their  leader  to  defend,  his  native  train 
With  fpeed  advance,  and  guard  him  on  the  plain. 
Againft  his  fo«,  their  threat'ning  lances  rife, 
And  aim'd  at  once,  a  ftorm  of  arrows  flies; 
Around  the  chief  on  ev'ry  fide  they  fing  ; 
One  in  his  (houlder  fix'd  its  barbed  fting. 
Amaz'd  he  ttood,  nor  could  the  fight  renew: 
But  flow  and  fullen  from  the  foe  withdrew. 
Straight  to  the  charge  Idomeneus  proceeds, 
With  hardy  Merion  try'd  in. martial  deeds, 
Laertes'  valiant  fon,  and  he  who  led 
The  youth  in  Sicyon,  and  Pellene,  bred  ; 
With  force  united,  thefe  the  foe  fuftain, 
And  waileful  havoc  loads  the  purple  plain: 
In  doubtful  poife  the  fcales  of  combat  fway'd, 
And  various  fates  alternately  obey'd.  [foe, 

But  now  the  flames,  which  barr'd  th'  invading 
Sunk  to  the  wafted  wood,  in  afhes  glow  t- 
Thebes  ru(hes  to  the  fight ;  their  polifti'd  (hields 
Gleam  through  the  fmoke,  and  brightens  all  the 

fields ; 

Thick  fly  the  embers,  where  the  courfers  tread, 
And  cloudy  volumes  all  the  welkin  (hade. 
The  king  of  men,  to  meet  the  tempeft,  firet 
His  wav'ring  bands,  and  valour  thus  infpires. 
Gods  I  (hall  one  fatal  hour  deface  the  praife 
Of  all  our  (leeplefs  nights,  and  bloody  days  ? 
Shall  no  juft  meed  for  all  our  toils  remain? 
Our  labours,  blood,  and  victories  in  vain  ? 
Shall  Creon  triumph,  and  his  impious  brow 
Claim  the  fair  wreath,  to  truth  and  valour  due? 
No,  warriors !  by  the  heav'nly  pow'rs,  is  weigh'd 
Juftice  with  wrong,  in  equal  balance  laid  : 
From  Jove's  high  roof  depend  th'  eternal  fcales, 
Wrong  mounts  defeated  ftill,  and  right  prevails. 
Fear  then  no  odds;  on  heav'n  itfelf  depend, 
Which  falfehood  will  confound,  and  truth  defend. 

He  faid  ;  and  fudden  in  the  (hock  they  clofe, 
Their  (hields   and   helmets   ring   with   mutual 
blows , 


Diforder  dire  the  mingling  r*nks  confounds, 
And  (houts  of  triumph  mix  with  dying  founds; 
As  fire,  with  wafteful  conflagration  fprcadj, 
And  kindles,  in  its  courfe,  the  woodland  (hades. 
When,  mooting  fudden  from  the  clouds  above, 
On  fome  thick  foreft  fall  the  flames  of  Jove ; 
The  lofty  oaks,  the  pines  and  cedars  burn, 
Their  verdant  honours  all  to  afhes  turn  ; 
Loud  roars  the  tempeft ;  and  the  trembling  fwaini 
See  the  wide  havoc  of  the  wafted  plains: 
Such  feero'd  the  conflict ;  fuch  the  dire  alarms, 
From  (houts  of  battle  mix'd  with  dm  of  arms. 
Phericles  firft,  Lycaon's  valiant  fon, 
The  fage  whofe   counfels  propp'd   the  Theban 

throne, 

Rofe  in  the  fight,  fuperior  to  the  reft, 
And  brave  Democleon's  fall  his  might  confefs'd. 
The  chief  and  leader  of  a  valiant  band, 
From  fair  Eione  and  th'  Afinian  ftrand. 
Next  Afius,  Iphitus,  and  Crates  fell ; 
Terynthian  Podius  trode  the  path  of  hell : 
And  Schedius,  from  Mazeta's  fruitful  plain, 
Met  there  his  fate,  and  perifli'd  with  the  flain. 
Aw'd  by  their  fall,  the  Argive  bands  give  way ; 
As  yields  fome  rampart  to  the  ocean's  fway, 
When  rous'd  to  rage,  it  fcorns  oppofing  mounds, 
And  fweeps  victorious  through  forbidden  grounds* 

But  Pallas,  anxious  for  her  fav'rite~  hoft, 
Their  beft  already  wounded,  many  loft, 
Ul)fles  fought :  (he  found  him,  in  the  rear, 
Wounded  and  faint,  and  leaning  on  hisfpear. 
And  thus  in  Mentor's  form :  Brave  prince  '.  I  drea4 
Our  hopes  defeated,  and  our  fall  decreed : 
For  conqu'ring  on  the  right  the  foe  prevails, 
And  all  defence  againft  their  fury  fails  ; 
While  here,  in  doubtful  poife,  the  battle  fways, 
And  various  fates  alternately  obeys ; 
In  great  Tydides,  who  beholds  from  far 
Our  danger  imminent,  yet  (huns  the  war, 
Held  by  refentment,  or  fome  caufe  unknown, 
Regardlefs  of  our  fafety  and  his  own. 
Would  rife  to  aid  us;  yet  we  might  refpire, 
And  Creon,  fruftrated,  again  retire. 
Great  were  his  praife,  who  could  the  chief  pet 

fuade, 

In  peril  fo  extreme,  the  hoft  to  aid. 
The  fitted  you,  who  boaft  the  happy  (kill, 
With  pleafin^  words,  to  move  the  fixed  will» 
Though  Neftor  juftly  merits  equal  fame, 
A  friend  the  fooneft  will  a  friend  reclaim. 

And  thus  Ulyfles  to  the  martial  maid : 
I  cannot  hope  the  hero  to  perfuade : 
The  fource  unknown  from  which  his  rage  pro 

cceds, 

Reafon  in  vain  from  loofe  conjecture  pleads; 
The  fatal  truce,  with  faithlefs  Creon  made, 
Provokes  him  not,  nor  holds  him  from  our  aid  ; 
He  eafily  refign'd  whate'er  he  mov'd. 
Till  now  approving  as  the  reft  approv'd. 
Some  dire  difafter,  fome  difgrace  unfeen. 
Confounds  his  fteady  temper,  elfe  ferene, : 
But  with  my  utmoft  fearch,  I'll  ftrive  to  find 
The  fecret  griefs  which  wound  his  gen'rous  mind; 
If  drain'd  of  blo»d,  and  fpent  with  toils  of  war, 
My  weary  limbs  can  bear  their  load  fo  far. 

He  fpoke;  his  words  the  martial  maid  admir'd  ; 
With  energy  divine  his  bread  infuir'd; 


THE   WORKS    OF  WILK1E. 


Lightly  the  hero  mov'd,  and  took  his  way 
Where  broad  encamp'd  th'  ^Etolian  warriors  lay: 
Already  arm'd  he  found  the  daring  band, 
Fierce  and  impatient  of  their  lord's  command  ; 
Some,    rnurm'ring,    round    the    king's    pavilion 

flood, 

While  others,  more  remote,  complain'd  aloud  : 
With  pleafing  words  he  footh'd  them  as  he  went, 
And  fought  their  valiant  leader  in  his  tent : 
Him  pond'ring  deep  in  his  diftrajfled  mind, 
He  found,  and  fitting  fad,  with  head  declin'd. 
He  thus  addrefs'd  him  :  Will  the  news  I  bring, 
Afflidl,  or  gratify,  th'  yEtolian  king  ? 
"  That  wav'ring  on  the  brink  of  foul  defeat, 
Without  the  hopes  of  iuccefs  or  retreat, 
Our  valiant  bands  th'  unequal  fight  maintain  ; 
Th&ir  belt  already  wounded,  many  flain." 
If  treachVous  Thebes  has  brib'd    you  with  her 
ftore,  [fwore ; 

And    bought    the  venal  faith  which    once   you 
Has  promised  precious  ore,  or  lovely  dames, 
And  pays  to  luft  the  price  which  treafon  claims  : 
Name  but  the  proffers  of  the  perjur'd  king, 
And   more,    and  better,   from  your  friends  I'll 

bring  ; 

Vaft  fums  of  precious  ore, 'and  greater  far 
Than  Thebes,  in  peace,  had  treafur'd  for  the  war ; 
Or,  though,  to  gratify  thy  boundlefs  mind, 
Her  private  wealth  and  public  were  combin'd. 
If  beauty's  pow'r  your  am'rous  heart  inflames, 
Ujirivall'd  are  Achaia's  lovely  dames ; 
Her  faireft  dames  Adraftus  fliall  beftow, 
And  purchafe  thus  the  aid  you  freely  owe. 
Gods  1  that  bur  armies  e'er  fhould  need  to  fear 
Deftruction,  and  the  fo'n  of  Tydeus  near  '. 

Ulyffes  thus ;  and  Tydeus'  ion  again  : 
Your  falfe  reproaches  aggravate  my  pain 
Too  great  already  :  in  my  heart  I  feel 
Its  venom'd  fting,  more  fliarp  than  pointed  fteel. 
No  bribe  perfuades,  or  promife  from  the  foe, 
My  oath  to  vi'late,  and  the  war  forego  : 
In  vain  for  this  were  all  the  precious  ftore, 
Which  trading  Zidon  wafts  from  fhore  to  fliore  ; 
With  all  that  rich  Iberia  yet  contains, 
Safe  and  unrifled  in  her  golden  veins.  . 
The  fource  from  which  my  miferies  arife, 
The  c^ufe,  which  to  the  hoft  my  aid  denies, 
With  truth  I  fhall  relate  ;  and  hope  to  claim 
Your  friendly  fympathy,  for  groundlefs  blame. 
In  yonder  walls  a  captive  maid  remains,    * 
To  me  more  dear  than  all  the  world  contains; 
Fairer  fhe  is  than  nymph  was  ever  fair; 
Pallas  in  ftature,  and  majeftic  air; 
As  Venus  foft,  with  Cynthia's  fprightly  grace, 
When  on  Taigetus  fhe  leads  the  chafe, 
Or  Erymanthus ;  while  in  fix'd  amaze, 
At  awful  diftance  heard,  the  fatyrs  gaze. 
With  oaths'divine  our  plighted  faith  we  bound  ; 
Hymen  had  foon  our  mutual  wiflies  cmwnM  ; 
When,  call'd  tu  arms,  againft  the  Theban  tovv'rs, 
From  Calydon  I  led  my  martial  pow'rs. 
Her  female  form  in  martial  arms  conceal'd, 
With  me  file  brav'd  ihe  terrors  o*~  the  field : 
Unknown  and  unrewarded,  from  my  fide 
No  toil  could  drive  her,  and  no  ilicck  divide. 
Ifot  now  proud  Thebes  injunoufly  detaiiis 
The  lovely  virgin,  lock'd  in  hoftile  chains; 


Doom'd,  and  referv'd  to  perifh,  for  rny  fake, 
If  of  your  counfels,  I,  or  works,  partake  ; 
Till  twenty  mornings  in  the  eaft  fliall  rife. 
And  twenty  ev'nings  gild  the  weftern  fkies. 
See  then  the  caufe  which  holds  me,  and  confines 
My  arm,  *o  aid  you,  though  my  heart  inclines  ; 
Love  mix'd  with  pity,  whofe  reftraints  I  feel 
Than  adamant  more  ftrong,  and  links  of  fteel. 

The  hero  thus.  Laertes'  fon  reply'd  : 
Oft  have  I  heard  what  now  is  verify 'd ; 
That  ftill  when  paffion  reigns  without  controul, 
Its  fway  confounds  and  darkens  all  the  foul. 
If  Thebes,  by  perjury,  the  gods  provok'd, 
The  vengeance  flighted,  by  themfelves  invok'd ; 
Affaulted  us,  fecure,  with  hoftile  arms, 
And  mix'd  our  pious  rites  with  dire  alarms  : 
With  better  faith,  by  faithlefs  Creon  fway'd, 
Will  they  at  laft  reftore  the  captive  maid? 
When  from  their  battlements  and  lofty  fpire«, 
They  fee  their  champaign  fhine  with  hoftile  fires  ; 
And,  pitch'd  around  them,  hofts  of  armed  foes, 
With  ftricl  embrace,  their  ftraiten'd  walls  enclofe : 
The  gods  they  fcorn  as  impotent  and  vain  : 
What  will  they  do,  when  you  alone  remain  ? 
Our  princes  fali'n,  the  vulgar  warriors  fled, 
Shall  to  your  tent  the  captive  fair  be  led  ? 
Or  rather  muft  you  fee  her  matchlefs  charms 
Referv'd  to  blefs  feme  haplefs  rival's  arms; 
While  rage  and  jealoufy  divide  your  breaft, 
No  prefent  friend  to  pity,  or  affift  ? 
Now  rather  rife  :  and,  ere  it  is  too  late, 
Refcue  our  armies  from  impending  fate. 
The  captive  maid  uninjur'd  you'll  regain  ; 
Force  oft  obtains  what  juftice  afks  in  vain. 
With  fuccefs  thus  your  wifhes  fliall  be  crownM, 
Which  truft  in  Thebes  would  fruftrate  and  con 
found.  *    , 

Ulyfles  thus :  his  weighty  words  inclin'd, 
Long  tortur'd  with  fufpenfe,  the  hero's  mind  ; 
As  fettling  winds  the  moving  deep  controul, 
And  teach  the  wav'ring  billows  how  to  roll : 
Straight  from  his  feat  th'  ^Etolian  warrior  rofe; 
His  mighty  limbs  the  martial  greaves  enclbfe  ; 
His  breaft  and  thighs  in  polifh'd  fteel  he  drefs'd  ; 
A  plumed  helmet  next  his  temples  prefs'd : 
From  the  broad  baldric,  round  his  flioulders  flung, 
His  fhining  fword  and  ftarry  faulchion  hung : 
The  fpear  he  laft  aflum'd,  and  pond'rous  fhield, 
With  martial  grace,  and  iffu'd  to  the  field  : 
To  mingle  in  the  fight,  with  eager  hafte 
He  rufh'd,  nor  call'd  his  warriors  as  he  paft. 
Ulyfles  thefe  conven'd  ;  his  prudent  care 
Their  ranks  difpos'd,  and  led  them  to  the  war. 
Afar  diftinguifh'd  by  his  armour  bright, 
With  flioutsTydides  rous'd  the  ling'ring  fight ; 
Through  all  the  hoft  his  martial  voice  refounds, 
And  ev'ry  heart  with  kindling  ardour  bounds; 
As  when  the  fun  afcencis,  with  gladfome  ray, 
To  light  the  weary  trav'ller  on  his  way ; 
Or  cheer  the  mariner  by  tenapeft  tofs'd 
Ami<Jft  the  dangers  of  fome  per'lous  coaft : 
So  to  Tjis  wjfliing  friends  Tydides  came  ; 
Their'darger  fuch  before,  their  joy  the  fame. 

Phericles  faw  ;  and,  fpringing  from  the  throng, 
Call'd  the  bold  Thebans,  as  he  rufh'd  along  : 
Ye  gen'rous  youths  !  whom  fair  Eceotia  breeds, 
The  nurie  of  valour  and  heroic  deeds': 


EPIC  ONI  AD,  BooKVITL 


t,et  not,  though  o'ft  renew'd,  thefe  tedious  toils 
Your  martial  ardour  quench,  and  damp  your  fouls. 
Tyuldes  comes ;  and  leads,  in  armour  bright, 
His  native  bands,  impatient  for  the  fight : 
Myfelf  the  firft  the  hero's  arm  fhalltry. 
And  teach  you  how  to  conquer,  or  to  die. 
We  drive  not  now,  as  when,  in  days  of  peace, 
Some  prince's  hymeneal  rites  to  grace, 
In  lifted  fields  bedew'd  with  fragrant  oil, 
In  combat  feign'dj  the  mimic  warriors  toil  ; 
Alike  the  victors,  and  the  vanquifh'd  fare, 
And  genial  feafts,  to  both,  conclude  the  war : 
We  now  muft  conquer :  or  it  (lands  decreed 
That  Thebes  fliall  perifh,  and  her  people  bleed. 
No  hopes  of  peace  remain ;  nor  can  we  find 
New  gods  to  vvitnefs,  or  new  oaths  to  bind, 
The  firft  infring'd  :  and  therefore  muft  prepare 
To  ftand  Or  perifh  try  the  lot  of  war  t 
Then  let  us  all  undaunted  brave  our  fate  : 
To  ftop  is  doubtful,  clefp'rate  to  retreat- 

The  hero  thus ;  and  to  the  battle  led  : 
tike  Mars,  he  feem'd,  in  radiant  armour  clad, 
Tow'ririg  fublime  ?  behind  his  ample  fliield 
He  mov'd  to  meet  Tydides  on  the  field  : 
As  when  at  noon,  descending  to  the  rills, 
Two  herds  encounter,  from  the  neighbouring  hills  : 
Before  the  reft,  the  rival  tjulls  prepare, 
With  awful  prelude,  for  th'  approaching  -war ; 
With  defp'rate   horns  they   plough  the  fmoking 

ground ; 

Their  hideous  roar  the  hollow  caves  refourid ; 
Heav'd  o'er  their  backs  the  ftreamingfand  al'cehds; 
Their  ftern  encounter  both  the  herds  fufpends: 
So  met  the  chiefs  ;  andfuch  amazement  quell'd 
The  reft,  and  in  fufperife  the  combat  heldi 
Tydides  firft  his  weighty  weapon  threw, 
Wide  of  the  mark  with  erring  force  it  flew; 
Phericles  1  thine  fucceeds  with  happier  aim, 
Full  to  the  centre  of  the  fliield  it  came  : 
But  (lightly  join'd,  unequal  to  the  ftroke, 
Short  from  rhe  fteel,  the  ftaff  in.  fplinters  broke* 
With  grief  Tydi<lesfaw  his  aim  deceiv'd  ; 
From  off  the  field  a^ond'rous  rock  he  heav'd ; 
With  figures  rude  of  antique  fculpture  grac'd, 
It  mark'd  the  reliques  of  a  man  deceas'd ; 
Pufh'd  at  his  foe  the  weighty  mats  he  flung; 
Thund'ring  it  fell;  the  Theban  helmet  rung: 
Deep  with  the  brain  the  dinted  fteel  it  mix'd, 
•And  lifelefs,  on  the  ground,  the  warrior  fix'd. 

Aw'd  by  his  fall,  the  Theban  bands  retire; 
As  flocks  defencelefs  (hun  a  lion's  ire  ; 
At  once  they  yield,  unable  to  withftand     • . 
The  wide  deftrudlion  of  Tydides'  han.l. 
Diforder  foon,  the  form  of  war  confounds, 
And  fhouts  of  triumph  mix  with  dyfng  founds* 
Creon  perceiv'd,  where  ruling  on  the  right 
In  equal  poife  he  held  the  fcales  of  fight, 
Blafpheming  heav'n,  he  impioufly  refign'd, 
To  ftern  diipair,  his  unfubmitting  mind  : 
Yet,  vers'd  in  all  the  various  turns  of  fate. 
The  brilk  aflault  to  rule,  or  fafe  retreat, 

VOL.  XI. 


He  drew  his  firm  battalions  from  the  foe, 

In  martial  order,  regularly  flo.v. 

The  Argive  leaders,  thund'ring  in  the  rear, 

Stjll  forwards  on  the  yielding  Iquadrons  bean 

The  ftrife  with  unabated  fury  burns. 

They  ftop,  they  combat,  and  retreat  by  turns; 

As  the  grim  lion  (burly  leaves  the  plains 

By  dogs  compell'd,  and  bands  of  armed  fwaiitf* 

Indignant  to  his  woody  hattnts  he  goes, 

And  with  retorted  glare  rcftrains  his  toes. 

Meanwhile  Tydides,  near  the  Cadmean  gate. 
Urg'd  with  incellanttoil  the  work  of  fate; 
Towards  the  walls  anundiftinguiih'd  thronf, 
The  vigors  and  the  vanquifh'd,  rufh'd  along! 
Accel's  to  both  the  guarded  walMenies; 
From  ev'ry  tow'r,  a  ftorm  of  jav'lins  flies  j 
Thick  as  the  hail  defcends,  when  Boreas  flings 
The  rattling  tempeft  from  Kis  airy  wings: 
So  thick  the  jav'lins  fell,  and  pointed  fpeafr*; 
Behind  them  dole,  another  hoft  appears, 
In  order'd  columns  rang'd,  by  Creon  led : 
UJyfles  law  ;  and -thus,  to  Doomed: 
Bold  as  you  are,  avoid  thefe  guarded  tow'rs  : 
From  loofe  purluit  recal  your  fcatter'd  pow'rs  I 
See  Creon  comes;  his  thick  embattled  train, 
In  phalanx  join'd,  approaches  from  the  plain. 
Here  if  we  Itay  th'  unequal  fight  to  prove. 
The  tow'rs  andTamparts  threaten  from  above 
With  darts  and  (tones ;  while  to  th'  invading  foe, 
IK  order  loofe,  our  fcatter'd  ranks  we  fliow  ; 
Nor  by 'your  matchlefs  valour  hope,  in  vain. 
Such  odds  to  conquer,  and  the  fight  maintain; 
Againft  an  army  lingle  force  muit  lofe ; 
Immod'rate  courage  ftill  like  folly  (hows. 
See  where  into  the  field  yon  turret  calls, 
Drawn  to  a  point  the  long-extended  walls : 
There  force  your  way,  and  fpeedily  regain 
The  fpace,  and  fafety  of  the  open  plain. 

Ulyfles  thus;  and  by  his  prudence  fway'd, 
The  martial  fon  of  Tydeus  (trait  obey'd. 
Thrice  to  the  height  the  hero  rais'd  his  voice, 
Loud  as  the  filver  trumpet's  martial  nolfe, 
The  fignal  of  retreat ;  his  warriors  heard, 
And  round  their  chief  in  order'd  ranks  appcar'd, 
Drawn  from  the  mingled  tumult  of  the  plain  ; 
As,  fever'd  on  the  floor,  the  golden  grain 
Swells  to  a  heap ;  while,  whirling   throug'i  the 

(kies, 

The  dirfty  chaff  in  thick  difordcr  flies.; 
Tydides  leads ;  between  the  guarded  tow'rs 
And  h&ftile  ranks,  he  draws  his  martial  pow'r* 
Towards  the  plain";  as  mariners,  with  oar 
And  fail,  avoid  tome  promontory's  fliore; 
When  caught  between  the  ocean  and  the  land, 
A  fudden  tempeft  bears  them  on  the  ftrand; 
The  ftem  oppofing  to  its  boift'rous  fway, 
They  (hun  the  cape  and  ftretch  into  the  bay  > 
So  'fcap'd  Tydides.    Cover'd  by  their  tow'ry 
In/fafety  flood  retir'dthe  Theban  pow'rs. 
For  from  above  an  iron  tempeft  rain'd. 
And  the  incurfions^f  the  foe  reftrain'd. 


THE  WORKS   OF  WILKIE. 


BOOK    IX. 


now  the  king  of  men  his  army  calls, 
Back  from  the  danger  of  th'  impending  walls; 
They  quit  the  combat,  and  in  order  long 
The  field  poffefs,  a  phalanx  deep  and  ftrong. 
Rank  following  rank,  the  Theban  fquadrons  move 
Still  to  the  rampart,  and  the  tow'rs  above: 
Creon  himfelf,  unwilling,  quits  the  field, 
Znrag'd,  defeated,  and  conftrain'd  to  yield, 
'Gajnft  all  his  foes  his  indignation  burns, 
But  firft  on  Diomed  its  fury  turns. 
He  call'd  a  vulgar  warrior  from  the  crowd, 
A  villain  dark,  and  try'din  works  of  blood, 
Erembus  nam'd,  of  huge  gigantic  fize, 
"With  cloudy  features  mark'd,  and  downcaft  eyes  ; 
Cold  and  inactive  ftill  in  combat  found, 
Nor  wont  to  kindle  at  the  trumpet's  found ; 
But  boll  in  villany  when  pow'r  commands; 
A  weapon  fitted  for  a  tyrant's  hands. 
And  thus  the  wrathful  monarch :  take  thisfvvord, 
A  fign,  to  all  my  fervants,  from  their  lord; 
And  hither  bring  the  fair  yEtolian's  head  ; 
J,  who  command  you,  will  reward  the  deed  : 
35ut  let  not  pity  or  remorfe  prevail ; 
Your  own  fliall  anfwer,  if  in  aught  you  fail. 

He  laid  ;  the  murd'rer,  practis'd  to  obey,  . 
The  royal  fword  receiv'd,  and  took  his  way 
Straight  to  the  palace,  where  the  captive  fair, 
Of  hope  bereft,  and  yielding  to  defpair, 
Lamenting  fat.     Their  mutual  griefs  to  blend, 
The  queen  and  all  the  royal  maids  attend. 
And  thus  the  queen :    fair  ftranger !    lhall  your 

grief 

All  hopes  reject  of  comfort  and  relief? 
YouY  woes  I'v2  meafur'd,  all  your  forrows  known; 
And  find  them  light  when  balanc'd  with  my  own. 
In  one  fad  day  my  valiant  fire  I  mourn'd  ; 
My  brothers  flain ;  my  native  walls  o'erturn'd ; 
IWyfelf  a  captive  deftin'd  to  fulfil, 
In  fervile  drudgery,  a  matter's  will; 
T"et  twa  fall  fo  low,  the  gods  decreed 
Thisenvy'd  height  c«  greatnefs  to  fucceed. 
The  pow'rs  above,  for  purpofes  unknown, 
Oft  raife  the  fali'n,  and  bring  the  lofty  down; 
Elude  the  vigilance  of  all  our  care: 
Our  furefl  hopes  deceive,  and  mock  defpair. 
Let  no  defponding  thoughts  your  mind  poliefs, 
To  banifli  hope,  the  med'cine  of  diftrefs  : 
For  nine  (1  ort  days  your  freedom  will  rertore, 
And,break  the  bondage  which  you  thus  deplore. 
But  I,  alas !  unhappy  ftill,'  mud  mourn, 
Toys*once  poflefs'd,  which  never  can  return ; 
Four  valiant  fons,  who  perifli'd  on  the  plain 
In  this  difeftrife,  a  fifth  on  Oeta  flain: 
Thefe  fhall'return  to  blefs  my  eyes  no  more; 
The  grave's  dark  manfion  knows  not  to  reftore, 
For  time,  which  bids  fo  oft  the  folar  ray 
Repeat,  with  light  renew'd,  th*  ethereal  way, 
And  from  the  foil,  by  heat  and  vernal  winds, 
To  fec»nd  life  thfc  latent  plant  unbinds, 


Again  to  flourifli,  nurs'd  by  wholefome  dews, 

Never  to  mortal  man  his  life  renews. 

Thefe  griefs  are  fiire  ;  but  others  ftill  I  fear  ; 

A  royal  hufband  loft,  and  bondage  near  ; 

Myfelf,  my  daughters,  dragg'd  by  hoftile  hands; 

Our  dignity  exchang'd  for  fervile  bands: 

All  this  the  gods  may  purpofe  and  fulfil ; 

And  we  with  patience  muft  endure  their  will. 
As  thus  Laodice  her  furrow  try'd 

With  fympathy  to  footh  ;  the  maid  reply'd  : 

Great   queen  L    on  whom   the   fov'reign  pow'r* 
beftow 

A  gen'rous  heart  to  feel  another's  woe ; 

Let  rtill  untouch'd  through  life  your  honours  lad. 

With  happier  days  to  come  fc-c  forrows  paft  ! 

Yet  ftrive  not  thus  a  hopelefs  wretch  to  cheer, 

Whom  fure  conjecture  leads  the  worft  to  feat. 

Shall  Diomed  a  public  caufe  forego, 

His  faithful  friends  betray,  and  truft  a  foe  ? 

By  treachery  behold  the  hoft  o'erthrown, 

Renounce  the  public  intereft  and  his  own  ? 

Shall  kings  and  armies,  in  the  balance  laid, 

Avail  not  to  outweigh  a  fingle  maid  ? 

One,  whom  his  fury  falfely  did  reprove 

For  crimes  unknown,  whofe  only  crime  was  love  j 

No,  fure  ere  this  he  triumphs  in  the  field; 

Your  armies  to  his  matchlefs  valour  yield  : 

And  foon  fubmitting  to  the  fatal  blow, 

This  head  muft  gratify  a  vanquifli'd  foe. 

If  fymbols  e'er  the  feciet  fates  explain, 

If  vifions  do  not  always  warn  in  vain, 

If  dreams  do  ever  true  prognoftics  prove, 

And  dreams,  the  fages  fay,  defcend  from  Jove, 

My  fate  approaches  :  late  at  dead  of  night : 

My  veins  yet  freeze  with  horror  and  affright  I 

I  thought  that,  all  forfaken  and  alone, 

Peniive  I  wander'd  far  through  ways  unknown, 

A  gloomy  twilight,  neither  night  nor  day 

Frown'd  on  my  fteps,  and  fadden'd  all  the  way  : 

Long  dreary  vales  I  law  on  ev'ry  fide, 

And  caverns  finking  deep,  with  entrance  wide  ; 

On  ragged  cliffs  the  blalted  forefts  hung ; 

Her  baleful  note  the  boding  fcreech-owl  fung. 

At  laft,  with  many  a  weary  ftep,  I  found 

This  melancholy  country's  outmoft  bound, 

An  ocean  vaft  :  upon  a  cliff  I  Mood, 

And  law,  beneath  me  far,  the  fable  flood  ; 

No  iflands  role  the  dull  expanfe  to  grace, 

And  nought  was  feeti  through  all  the  boundlefe 

fpace, 
But  low-brow'd  clouds,   which  on   the   billows 

frown'd, 

And,  in  a  night  of  fhade,  the  profpecl  drown'd. 
The  winds,  which  i'eem'd  around  the  cliffs  to  blow, 
With  doleful  cadence,  utter'd  founds  of  woe, 
Wafting,  from  ev'ry  cave  and  dreary  den, 
The  wail  of  infants  mix'd  with  groans  of  men  i 
Amaz'd,  on  ev'ry  fide  my  eyes  I  turn, 
And  fe«  depending  from  the  craggy  boura 


EPIGONIAD,    BOOK  IX. 
the    mould'ring 


Wretches    unnumbei'd ;    fome 

foil, 

Some  grafp'd  the  fllpp'ry  rock,  with  fruitlefs  toil ; 
Some  hung  futpended  by  the  roots,  which  pafs 
Through  crannies  of  the  cliffs,  or  wither'd  grafs. 
Still  from  the  fteep  they  plung'd  into  the  main; 
As  from  the  eyes  defcends  the  trickling  rain. 
Amaz'd  I  turn'd,  and  ftrove  in  vain  to  fly  ; 
Thickets  oppos'd,  and  precipices  high 
To  (top  my  flight :  and,  from  the  airy  fteep, 
A  tempeft  fnatch'd,  and  huri'd  me  to  the  deep. 
The  fudden  violence  my  flumber  broke  ; 
The  waves  I  feem'd  to  touch,  and  ftraight  awoke. 
With  fleep  the  vifion  fled  ;  but,  in  my  mind 
Imprinted  deep,  its  image  left  behind. 
For  had  the  frightful  fcene  which  fancy  drew, 
And  what  I  feem'd  to  fuffer,  all  been  true  ; 
Had  fate  appear'd,  in  blackeft  colours  drefs'd, 
No  deeper  had  its  horrors  been  imprefs'd. 
When  thus  the  gods  by  certain  fymbols  warn, 
And  lure,  from  dreams,  their  purpofes  we  learn, 
No  blame  I  merit,  that  to  fear  relign'd, 
Fate's  dread  approach  fits  heavy  on  my  mind. 

Galfandra  thus ;  Laodice  again  : 
Futurity,  in  dreams,  we  feek  in  vain ; 
For  oft,  from  thoughts  difturb'd,  luch  phantoms 

rife, 

As  fogs  from  marfhes  climb,  to  blot  the  flues : 
With  a  dark  veil,  the  cheerful  face  of  day 
They  fadden,  and  eclipfe  the  folar  ray; 
But  foon  in  dews  and  fbft-defcending  rains, 
Fall  to  refrefh  the  mountains  and  the  plains. 
For  Diomed's  oftence  you  ne'er  can  bleed  ; 
Favour,  your  fex  and  innocence  will  plead, 
Ev'n,  with  the  worft  ;  nor  will  a  gen'rous  foe 
His  rage,  in  cruelty  and-hafenefs  ihow. 
Now  to  the  tow'rs  I  hafte,  to  view  from  far 
The  danger,  or  fuccefs  of  this  day's  war. 
Let  Glymene  with  me  the  wqlls  afcend ; 
The  reft  at  home  domeftic  cates  attend. 

She  ended  thus ;  and  from  her  feat  arofe  f 
The  royal  maid  attends  her,  as  (lie  goes. 
Towards  the  weftern  gate ;  where  full  to  view 
Expos'd,  the  armies  and  the  camp  fhe  knew. 
And  now  appear'd  within  the  lofty  gate, 
By  Creon  fent,  the  meflenger  of  fate. 
His  finning  blade,  for  execution  bar'd, 
And  afpedt  dark,  his  purpofe  ftraight  declar'd. 
Alarin'd,  at  once  the  royal  virgins  rife, 
And,  fratt'ring,  fill  the  dome  with  female  cries : 
But,  bolder  from  defpair,  Caflandra  (laid, 
And  to  th'  aflaflin  thus,  undaunted,  faid  : 
Approach  !  divide  this  neck  with  deathful  fteel, 
A  tyrant's  vaffal  no  remorfe  ihould  feeL 

0  Diomed  !  let  fuis  example  prove, 

In  man,  that  ftubborn  honour  conquers  love : 
With  weight  fuperior,  great  ambition  draw* 
The  fcale  for  glory,  and  a  publk  eaufe. 

1  blame  thee  not  for  this ;  nor  will  impeach 
A  great  example,  whkh  I  could  not  reach : 
For  had  whole  armies,  in  the  balance  laid, 

And    kings    and    mighty  ftates  with  thee  been 

weigh'd, 

And  I  the  judge  appointed  to  decree, 
They  all  had  periflied  to  ranfom  thee. 
Caflandra  thus ;  and  for  the  blow  prepar'd, 
""-Vitli  juth  her  hands  her  fliining  neck  flic  bar'd, 


And  round  her  he.'id  a  purple  garment  roll'd. 
With  leaves  of  filver  mark'd,  and  fiow'rs  of  gold. 
Rais'd  for  the  ftroke,  the  glitteringfaulchion  hung, 
And  Iwift  defcending.  bore  the  head  along. 
A  tide  of  gore,  diftWd  in  purple  Itreams, 
Dalhes  the  wall,  and  o'er  the  pavement  fwimi. 
Prone  to  the  ground  the  headlefs  trunk  reclines, 
And  life,  in  long  convulfive  throbs,  refigns. 

Now  on  the  open  plain  before  the  walls, 
The  king  of  men  the  chiefs  to  council  calls. 
And  Diomed,  with  fecret  griefs  opprefs'd. 
Impatient,  thus  the  public  ear  addrefs'd  : 
Confed'rate  kings '.  and  thou.whofe  fov'reign  hand 
Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fuprtme  command  '. 
What  holds  us,  and  reftrains  our  martial  pow'rs ; 
While    haughty    Thebes   iniults    us    from    he* 

tow'rs  ? 

In  vain  we  conquer  thus,  and  bleed  in  yain, 
If  victory  but  yields  the  empty  plain. 
Behind  his  walls,  perfidious  Creon  lies, 
And  fafely  meditates  a  new  furprife : 
When  on  the  urn  oilr  pious  tears  we  ponr ; 
Or  mirth  difarms  us,  and  the  genial  hour ; 
Ne ;  let  us  rather,  now  when  fortune  galls, 
With  bold  aflault,  attempt  to  mount  the  walls; 
Myfelf  the  firft  a  chofen  band  flull  lead, 
Where  yon  low  rampart  finks  into  the  mead  : 
There  will  I  gain  the  battlements,  and  lay, 
For  others  to  fucceed,  an  open  way, 
If  bars  of  fteel  have  force  their  works  to  tear, 
Or,  from  their  hinges  heav'd  the  gates,  can  bear : 

Tydides  thus.     His  counfel  to  oppofe, 
The  leader  of  the  Cretan  warriors  rofe : 
Confed'rate  kings !  -and  thou,  whofe  fov'reign  h  jn«f 
Sways  the  dread  fceptre  of  fupreme  command'. 
Let  not  Tydides  now,  with  martial  rage,' 
In  meafures  hot  and  ram,  the  hoft  engage ; 
To  fober  reafon  ftill  let  paffion  yield, 
Nor  here  admit  the  ardour  of  the  field ; 
If  Thebes  could  thus  with  one  affault  be  won, 
Her  armies  vanquifli'd,  and  her  walls  overthrown'. 
Could  this  one  fingle  day  reward  our  toil, 
So  long  endur'd,  with  victory  and  fpoil : 
No  foldier  in  the  ranks,  no  leader  here, 
Would  flmn  the  fight,  or  counfel  to  forbear. 
But  if  for  victory,  a  foul  defeat. 
With  all  the  fhame  and  danger  of  retreat. 
Should  be  the  ifl'ue,  which  the  wife  muft  dread,  f 
To  flop  is  better,  fure,  than  to  proceed. 
On  yonder  walls,  and  lofty  turrets  ftand, 
Not  fav'd  from  lhameful  flight,  a  heartiefsband, 
Who,  defp'rate  of  their  ftate,  would  foon  forego 
Their  laft  defences,  and  admit  a  foe  ; 
But  who,  from  fight  recalled,  without  difmay, 
A  fafe  retreat  maintain'd,  in  firm  array. 
Secure  they  combat  from  protecting  walls; 
Thrown  from  above  each  \»eapon  heavier  falls; 
Apdinft  fuch  odds,  can  we  the  fight  maintain, 
And  with  a  foe  found  equal  on  the  plain  ? 
Though  we  defift,  no  leader  will  oppote 
That  thus  the  fruits  of  victory  we  lofc  ; 
When  pent  within  their  battlements  and  tow  R| 
I-i  narrow  /pace,  we  hold  the  Theban  pow'rs: 
For  oftner,  than  by  arms,  are  holls  o'ti  thrown 
By  dearth  and  Ikkneis,  in  »  OVaiten'd  town. 
He  who  can  only  wield  the  fword  ami  (pear. 
Knows  kf»  than  half  the  inftrumeuts  of  war, 


THE  WORKS  OF  WILKlE. 


Heart-gnawing  hunger,  enemy  to  life, 
Wide-walling  peftilence,  and  civil  'ftrife. 
By  want  inflam'd,  to  all  our  weapons  claim 
Superior  force,  and  ftrike  with  furer  aim  : 
With  thefe,  whoever  arm'd  to  combat  goes, 
Inftrudted  how  to  tarn  them  on  his  foes, 
Shall  fee  them  foon  laid  proftrate  on  the  ground, 
His  aims  accomplilh'd,  and  his  wifhes  crown'd. 
Our  warriors,  therefore,  let  us  ftraight  recal, 
Nor.  by  affault,  attempt  to  force  the  wall ; 
But  with  a  rampart,  to  the  gates  oppos'd, 
Befiege,  in  narrow  fpace,  our  foes  enclos'd. 

The  hero  thus  ;  and,  eager  to  reply, 
Tydides  rofe  :  when  on  a  turret  high 
Creon  appear'd :  Caffandra's  h^ad,  difplayM 
"Upon  a  lance's  point,  he  held,  and  faid  : 
Ye  Argive  warriors  '.  view  the  fign  ;  and  know, 
That  Creon  never  fails  to  quit  a  foe. 
This  bloody  trophy  mark'd  ;  and  if  it  brings 
Grief  and  defpair  to  any  of  the  kings, 
Let  him  revenge  it  on  the  man  who  broke 
His  faith,  and  dar'd  my  fury  to  provoke. 

He  ended  thus.  Tydides,  as  he'  heard, 
With  rage  diftrafted,  and  defpair,  appear'd. 
Long  on  the  tow'r  he  fix'd  his  burning  eyes ; 
The  reft  were  mute  with  wonder  and  furprife  ; 
But,  to  the  council  turning,  thus  at  laft ; 
If  any  favour  claim  my  merits  paft ; 
If,  by  a  prefent  benefit, ye'd  bind  '    ". 

To  future  fervices  a  grateful  mind ; 
Xet  what  I  urge,  in  council,  now  prevail, 
With  hoftile  arms  yon  rampart  to  aftail : 
.Elfe,  with  my  native  bands,  alone  I'll  try 
The  combat,  fix'd  to  conquer  or  tovdie. 

The  hero  thus.  Ulyfles  thus  exprefs'd 
The  prudent  dictates  of  his  generous  bread  : 
Princes !  fliall  dir'e  contention  ftill  prefide 
In  all  our  councils,  and  the  kings  divide  ? 
Suce,  of  the  various  ills  that  can  diftrefs 
United  armies,  and  prevent  fuccefs, 
1)ifcord  is  chief:  where'er  the  fury  ftrays, 
The  parts  fhe  fevers,  and  the  whole  betrays. 
Now  let  Tydides  lead  his  native  pow'rs 
To  combat,  and  atfault  theTheban  tow'rs; 
The  reft,  on  various  parts  their  forces  fhow, 
By  mock  approaches  to  diftradl  the  foe. 
If  he  prevails,  to  vidlory  he  leads  ; 
And  fafe  behind  him  all  the  hoft  iucceeds: 
If  Jove  forbids  and  all-decreeing  fate, 
The  field  is  open,  and  a  fafe  retreat. 

Ulyfles  thus.   The  princes  all  affent ; 
Straight  from  the  council  through  the  hoft  they 

went, 

Review'd  its  order,  and  in  front  difpos'd 
The  (lingers,  and  the  rear  with  bowmen  clos'd ; 
Arming  the  reft  with  all  that  could  avail, 
The  tow'rs  and  battlements  to  fap  or  fcale. 
Tydides  firft  his  martial  fquadrons  leads ; 
Ulyfles,  with  his  native  band,  fucceeds. 
Upon  them,  as  they  came,  the  Thebans  pour 
A  ftorm  of  jav'lins^fhot  from  ev'ry  tow'r;. 
As  from  the  naked  heights  the  feather'd  kind, 
By  bitter  fhow'rs  compell'd,  and  wint'ry  wind, 
In  clouds  afiembled,  from  fome  mountain's  head, 
To  fhelter  crowd,  and  dive  into  the  (hade  ; 
Such  and  fo  thick  the  winged  weapons  flew, 
And  many  warriors  wounded,  many  flew. 


Now  on  their  ranks,  by  forceful  engines  thrown'. 
Springs,  from  the  twifted  rope,  the  pond'rous  ftone, 
With  wide  deltrudlion  through  the  hoft  to  roll, 
To  mix  diforder  and  confound  the  whole. 

Intrepid  ftill  th'  ^Etolian  chief  proceeds ; 
And  ftill  Ulyfles  follows  as  he  leads. 
They  reach'd  the  wall.     Tydides,  with  a  bound, 
Twice  ,ftrove    in  vain    to    mount  it    from    the 

ground. 

Twice  fled  the  foe ;  as,  to  the  boift'rous  fway 
Of  fome  proud  billow,  mariners  give  way  ; 
Which,  rous'd  by  tempefts,  'gainft  a  veffel  bends 
Its  force,  and,  mounting  o'er  the  deck,  afcends  : 
Again  he  rofe  :  the  third  attempt  prevail'd  ; 
But,  crumbling  in  his  grafp,  the  rampart  fail'd  : 
For  thunder  there  its  fury  had  imprefs'd. 
And  loos'd  a  fhatter'd  fragment  from  the  reft. 
Supine  upon  the  earth  the  hero  falls, 
Mix'd  with  the  fmoke  and  ruin  of  the  walls. 
By  difappointment  chafF'd,  and  fierce  from  pain. 
Unable,  now  the  rampart  to  regain, 
He  turn'd,  and  faw  his  native  bands  afar, 
By  fear  reftrain'd,  and  ling'ring  in  the  war. 
From  Creon  ftraight  and  Thebes,  his  anger  turns. 
And  'gainft  his  friends,  with  equal  fury,  burns ; 
As  when,  from  fnows  diflblv'd,  or  fudden  rains, 
A  torrent  ftvells  and  roars  along  the  plains ; 
If,  rifing  to  oppofe  its  angry  tide, 
In  full  career,  it  meets  a  mountain's  fide ; 
In  foaming  eddies,  backwards  to  its  fource, 
It  wheels,  and  rages  with  inverted  courfe ; 
So  turn'd  at  once,  the  fury,  in  his  breaft, 
Againft  Ulyfles,  thus  itfelf  exprefs'd : 
Author  accurs'd,  and  fource  of  all  my  woes'. 
Friend  more  pernicious  than  the  worft  of  foes  ! 
By  thy  fuggeftions  from  my  purpofe  fway'd, 
I  flew  Caflandra,  and  myfelf  betray '<! ; 
Hence,  lodg'd  within  this  tortur'd  breaft,  remains 
A  fury,  to  inflidt  eternal  pains. 
I  need  not  follow,  with  vindictive  fpear. 
A  traitor  abfent,  while  a  worfe  is  near ; 
Creon  but  acted  what  you  well  foreknew. 
When  me  unwilling  to  the  fight  you  drew. 
To  you  the  firft  my  vengeance  (hall  proceed, 
And  then  on  Creon  and  myfelf  fucceed  : 
Such  facrifice  Caflandra's  ghoft  demands, 
"  And  fuch  I'll  oftr  with  determin'd  hands. 

Thus  as  he  fpoke,  Ulyfles  pond'ring  ftood, 
Whether  by  art  to  footh  his  furious  mood, 
Or,  with  a  fudden  hand,  his  lance  to  throw, 
Preventing,  ere  it  fell,  the  threaten'd  blow. 
But,  gliding  from  above,  the  martial  maid 
Between  them  ftood,  in  majefty  difplay'd  ; 
Her  radiant  eyes  with  indignation  burn'd, 
On  Diomed  their  piercing  light  flie  turn'd  : 
And  frowning  thus  :  Thy  frantic  rage  reftrain  j 
Elfe  by  dread  Styx  I  fwear,  nor  fwear  in  vain, 
That  proof  fliall  teach  you  whether  mortal  might 
This  arm  invincible  can  match  in  fight. 
Is't  not  enough  that  he,  whofe  hoary  hairs 
Still  watch'd  your  welfare  with  a  father's  cares, 
Who  dar'd,  with  zeal  and  courage,  to  withftani 
Your  fatal  phrenzy,  perifli'd  by  your  hand  ? 
That,  flighting  ev'ry  tie  which  princes  know, 
You  leagu'd  in  fecret  with  a  public  foe  ? 
And,  from  your  faith  by  fond  affection  fway'd, 
The  kings,  the  army,  and  yourielf  betray 'd  ? 


ZPIGONIAD,   BOOK  IX. 


Yet,  ftill  unaw'd,  from  fuch  atrocious  deeds, 
To  more  and  worfe  your  defp'rate  rage  proceeds, 
And  dooms  to  perifh,  by  a  mad  decree, 
The  chief  who  fav'd  alike  the  hoft  and  thee. 
Had  Thebes  prevail'd,  and  one  decifive  hour 
The  victory  had  fix'd  beyond  thy  pow'r; 
Thefe  limbs,  ere  now,  had  captive  fetters  worn, 
To  infamy  condemn'd,  and  hoftile  fcorn  ; 
While  fair  Cafiandra,  with  her  virgin  charms, 
A  prize  decreed,  had  bleft  fome  rival's  arms. 
Did  not  the  worth  of  mighty  Tydeus  plead, 
Approv'd  when  living,  and  rever'd  when  dead, 
For  favour  to  his  guilty  fon,  and  ftand 
A  rampart  to  oppofe  my  vengeful  hand ; 
You  foon  had  found  how  mad  it  is  t»  wage 
War  with  the  gods,  and  tempt  immortal  rage. 
This   Thebes  mall  know,  ere    to    the    ocean's 

ftreams 

"The  fun  again  withdraws  his  fetting  beams ; 
For  now  the  gods  confent,  in  vengeance  juft, 
For  all  her  crimes,  to  mix  her  with  the  duft. 
The  goddefs  thus ;  and  turning  to  the  field, 
Her  deity  in  Mentor's  form  conceal'd  : 
With  courage  new  each  warrior's  heart  infpires, 
And  wakes  again,  in  all  their  martial  fires. 

Confcious  of  wrong,  and  fpeechlefs  from  fur- 

prife, 

Tydides  flood,  nor  dar'd  to  lift  his  eyes, 
Of  fate  regardlefs ;  though  from  ev'ry  tow'r, 
Stones,  darts,  and  arrows  fell,  a  mingled  fhow'r  : 
For  awe  divine  fubdu'd  him,  and  the  fhame 
Which  virtue  fuffers  from  the  touch  of  blame. 
But  to  Ulyffes  turning,  thus  at  laft : 
Prince!  can  thy gen'rous love  forget  the  paft; 
And  all  remembrance  banifh  from  thy  mind, 
Of  what  my  fury  and  defpair  defign'd  ? 
If  you  forgive  me,  ftraight  our  pow'rs  recal 
Who  fhun  the  fight,  while  I  attempt  the  wall. 
Some  prefent  god  infpires  me  ;  for  I  feel 
My  heart  exulting  knock  the  plated  fteel : 
In  brifker  rounds  the  vital  fpirit  flies, 
And  ev'ry  limb  with  double  force  fupplies. 

Tydides  thus.  Ulyfles  thus  again 
Shall  heav'n  forgive  offences,  man  retain ; 
Though  born  to  err,  by  jarring  paffions  tofs'd  ? 
The  beft,  in  good,  no  iieadinefs  can  boafl : 
No  malice,  therefore,  in  my  heart  fhall  live ; 
To  fin  is  human ;  human  to  forgive. 
But  do  not  now  your  fingle  force  oppofe 
To  lofty  ramparts  and  an  hofl  of  foes ; 
Let  me  at  leaft,  attending  at  your  fide, 
Partake  the  danger,"and  the  toil  divide  : 
Tor  fee  our  pow'rs  advancing  to  the  florm ! 
Pallas  excites  them  in  a  mortal  form. 
Let  us,  to  mount  the  rampart,  ftraight  proceed; 
They  of  themfelves  will  follow  as  we  lead. 

Ulyfles  thus ;  and,  fpringing  from  the  ground, 
Both  chiefs  at  once  afcend  the  lofty  mound. 
Before  him  each  his  fhining  buckler  bears 
'Gainft  flying  darts,  and  thick  portended  fpears. 
Now,  on  the  bulwark's  level  top  they  ftand, 
And  charge  on  ev'ry  fide  the  hoftile  band: 
There  many  warriors  in  clofe  fight  they  flew, 
And  many  headlong  from  the  rampart  threw. 
Pallas  her  fav'rite  champions  ftill  infpires, 
Their  nerves  confirms,  and  wakes  their  martial 


With  courfe  divided,  en  the- toe  they  fall. 

And  bare  between  them  leave  a  length  of  wall; 

As  fire,  when  kindled  on  fome  mountain's  head* 

Where  runs,  in  long  extent,  the  woodland  fhade, 

Coniumes  the  middle  foreft,  and  extends 

Its  parted  progrefs  lo  the  diftant  ends: 

So    fought    the    leaders,    while    their    fcatter'd 

pow'rs, 

In  phalanx  join'd,  approach'd  the  Theban  tow'rs; 
With  hands    and    heads    againft    the    rampart. 

leao'd, 

The  firft,  upon  their  fhields,  the  reft  fuftain'd : 
Rank  above  rank,  the  living  ftruclure  grows, 
As  fettling  bees  the  pendent  heap  compofe, 
Which  to  fome  cavern's  roof  united  clings, 
Woven  thick  with  complicated  feet  an  J  wingi : 
Thus  mutually  fuftain'd,  the  warriors  bend ; 
While  o'er  their  heads  the  order'd  ranks  afcend. 

And  now  the  martial  goddefs  with  delight, 
Plac'd  on  a  turret's  top,  iurvey'd  the  fight. 
Thrice  to  the  height  me  rais'd  her  awful  voice  ; 
The  tow'rs  and  bulwarks  trembled  at  the  noifc : 
Both  warring  hofts  alike  the  fignal  hear ; 
To  this  the  caufe  of  hope,  to  that,  of  fear. 
And  Thefeus  thus  addrefs'd  his  martial  train  : 
Here  fhall  we  wage  a  diftant  war  in  vain, 
When  now,  Tydide»,,from  the  conquer'd  tow'rs 
Descending,  on  the  town  his  warriors  pours  ? 
Your  glory,  if  ye  would  affert,  nor  yield 
At  once  the  praife  of  many  a  well-fought  field;   . 
Afcend  thefe  lofty  battlements,  and  claim 
With  thofe  who;  conquer,  now  an  equal  fame. 
The  monarch  tfyis ;  and  to  the  combat  leads  ; 
With  emulation  fir'd,  the  hoft  proceeds ; 
Under  a  fhow'r  of  falling  darts  they  go, 
Climb  the  fteep  ramparts,  and  aflault  the  foe; 
As  winds  outrageous,  from  the  ocean  wide, 
Againft  fome  mole  impel  the  ftormy  tide, 
Whofe  rocky  arms,  oppofed  to  the  deep, 
From  tcmpefts  fate  the  anchoring  veflel  keep ; 
Wave  heap'd  on  wave,  the  ftormy  deluge  tow'rs, 
And  o'er  it,  with  rcfiftlefs  fury,  pours : 
Such  feem'd  the  fight,  the  Theban  hoft  o'er- 

thrown, 
The  wall  deferts,and  mingles  with  the  town. 

Creon  in  vain  the  dcfp'rate  rout  witbftands, 
With  fharp  reproaches  and  vindictive  hands ; 
His  rage  they  fhun  not,  nor  his  threat'nings  hear. 
From  ftunning  clamours  deaf,  ^d  blind  from  fear. 
And  thus  the  monarch  with  uplifted  eyes, 
And  both  his  hands  extended  to  the  fkies : 
Ye  pow'rs  fupreme,  whofe  unrefifted  fwar 
The  fates  of  men  and  mortal  things  obey ! 
Againft  your  counfels,  vain  it  is  to  ftrive, 
Which  only  ruin  nations  or  retrieve. 
Here  in  your  fight,  with  patience,  I  refign 
That  envy'd  royalty  which  once  was  mine; 
Renounce  the  cares  that  wait  upon  a  crown, 
And  make  my  laft  attention  all  my  own. 
Seven  virgin  daughters  in  my  lioufe  remain, 
Who  muft  not  live  to  fwell  a  victor's  train ; 
Nor  fhall  my  wretched  queen,  in  triumph  borne,. 
Be  lifted  to  the  eye  of  public  fcorn : 
One  common  fate  our  miferies  fhall  end, 
And,  with  the  duft  of  Thebes,  our  afhes  blend. 

His  fix'd  decree  the  monarch  thus  exprefs'4 
Qae  half  the  fates  confirm 'd,  deny'd  the  reft  ; 


THE  WORKS  OF  W1LKIE. 


For  now  fur-rounded  by  the  hoftile  crowd 
His  captive  queen  an  humble  fuppliant  flood. 
Tydides  found  her  as  fhe  left  the  walls; 
Before  the  hero  to  the  ground  fhe  falls ;     [prefs'd, 
With    trembling    hands,   his   mighty    knees  fhe 
And,  fupplicating,  thus  with  tears  addrefs'd  : 
JUuftrious  chief !  for  fure  your  gallant  mien 
No  lefs  proclaims  you,  fpare  a  wretched  queen ; 
One  whom  the  gods  v.'ith  ecdlefs  hate  purfue, 
To  griefs  already  fumlefs  adding  new ; 
O  fpare  a  helplefs  wretch,  who  humbly  bende, 
And  for  prote&ion  on  thy  might  depends ! 
As  fupplicating  thus  her  fuit  fhe  piefs'd, 
Ulyffes  heard,  and  thus  the  chief  addrefs'd  : 
See  how  th'  immortals,  by  a  juft  decree, 
Caflandra's  fall  avenge,  and  honour  thee  ! 
See,  at  thy  feet,  the  wife  of  Ceron  laid, 
A  vi&im  offer'd  for  the  injur'd  maid. 


Let  her  the  firft  your  juil  refentment  feel ; 
By  heav'n  prefemed  to  your  vengeful  fteel. 

Ulyffes  thus.  With  fighs  the  herp  faid  : 
Enough  is  offer'd  to  Cafiandra's  fhade  ; 
With  wide  deftru&ion,  wafting  fword  and  fire, 
To  plague  the  authors  of  her  fall,  confpirc. 
Yet  all  in  -vain.  No  facrifice  recalls 
The  paitedghoft  from  Pluto's  gloomy  walls. 
Too  long,  alas  !  has  lawlefs  fury  rul'd, 
To  reafon  deaf,  by  no  reflection  cool'd  : 
While  I  unhappy,  by  its  dictates  fway'd, 
My  guardian  murder'd,  and  the  hoft  betray'd, 
No  vi<Slim,  therefore,  to  my  rage  I'll  pay  ; 
Nor  ever  follow  as  it  points  the  way. 

The  Ion  of  Tydeus  thus ;  and  to  his  tent, 
From  infults  fate,  the  royal  matron  fent. 
Himfelf  again  the  courfe  of  conqueft  led 
Till  Thebes  was  overthrown,  and  Creon  bled. 


A     DREAM. 

IN  THE  MANNER  OF  SPENSER. 


Qirfc  ev'ning  as  by  pleafant  Forth  I  ftray'd, 
'    In  penfiv'e  mood,  and  meditated  ftill 
On  poets'  learned  toil,  with  fcorn  repaid 
'    By  envy's  bitter  fpite,  and  want  of  fkill ; 

A  cave  I  found,  whkh  open'd  in  a  hill. 
The  floor  wasfand,  with  various  fhells'yblended, 

Through  which,  in  flow  meanders,  crept  a  rill ; 
The  roof,  by  nature's  cunning  flight  fufpended  : 
Thither  my  fteps  I  turn'd,  and  there'  my  journey 
ended. 

ii. 
Upon  the  ground  my  llftlefs  limbs  T  ]aid, 

JLull'd  by  the  murmur  of  the  palling  ftream  : 
Then  fleep,  foft  ftealir.g,  did  my  eyes  invade  ; 

And  waking  thought,  foon  ended  in  a  dream. 

Tranfported  to  a;  region  I' did  feem, 
Which  with  Theffalian  Tempe  might  compare  ; 

Of  verdant  fhade  compos'd,  and  watVy  gleam  : 
Not  even  Valdarna,  thought  fo  pafling  fair, 
Afight  match  this  pleafant  land,  in  all  perfe&ions 
rare. 

in. 
One,  like  a  hoary  palmer,  near  a  brook, 

Under  an  arbour,  feated  did  appear ; 
A  fhepherd  fwain,  attending,  he'd  a  book, 

And  ieem'd  to  read  therein  that  he  mote  hear. 

From  curiofity  1  'ftepped  near  ; 
But  ere  I  reach'd  the  place  where  they  did  fit, 

The  whifp'ring  breezes  wafted  to  my  ear 
The  found  of  rhymes  which  I  myfelf  had  writ : 
Rhymes  much,  alas,  too  mean,  for  fuch  a  judge 
unfit. 

IV. 

For  him  he  feem'd  who  fung  Achilles'  rage, 

In  lofty  numbers  that  fhall  never  die, 
And  wife  UlyiTes'  tedious 'pilgrimage, 
.'  So  long  the  fport  of  fharp  adverfity : 
The  praiies  of  his  Hi.er.it,  fame  oabigh, 


With  her  fhrill  trump,  for  ever  loud  doth  found; 

With  him  no  bard  for  excellence  can  viej 
Of  all  that  late  or  ancient  e'er  were  found  ; 
So  much  he  doth  furpafs  ev'n  bards  the  moft  re» 
nown'd. 

y. 
The  fhepherd  fwain  invited  me  to  come 

Up  to  the  arbour  where  they  feated  were ; 
For  Homer  call'd  me :  much  1  fear'd  the  doom 

Which  fuch  a  judge  feem'd  ready  to  declare. 

As  I  approach'd,  with  miekle  dread  and  care, 
He  thus  addrefs'd  me :  Sir, 'the  caufe  explain 

Why  all  your  ftory  here  is  told  fo  bare  ? 
Few  circumftances  mix'd  of  various  grain  ; 
Such,    furely,  much    enrich   and   raife   a   poet's 
itruin. 

VI. 

Ccrtes,  quoth  I,  the  critics  are  the  caufe 

Of  this,  and  many  other  mifchiefs  more; 
Who  tie  the  Mufes  to  fuch  rigid  laws, 

That  all  their  fongs  are  frivolous  and  poor. 

They  cannot  now,  as  oft  they  did  before, 
Ere  pow'rful  prejudice  had  dipt  their  wings, 

Nature's  domain  with  boundlefs  flight  explore, 
And  traffic  freely  in  her  precious  things : 
Each  bard  now  fears  the  rod,  and  trembles  while 
he  fings. 

VII. 

Though    Shakfpeare,    ftill    difdaining    narrow 
rules, 

His  bofom  fill'd  with  Nature's  facred  fire, 
Broke  all  the  cobweb  limits  fix'd  by  fools, 

And  left  the  world  to  blame  him  and  admire. 

Yet  his  reward  few  mortals  would  defire; 
For,  of  his  learned  toil,  the  only  meed 

That  ever  I  could  find  he  did  acquire, 
Is  that  our  dull,  degenerate,  age  of  lead, 
Says  that  he  wrote  by  chance,  and  that  he  fcarce 
could  re^d, 


A    DREAM. 


1  ween,  quoth  he,  that  poets  are  fo  blame 

When  they  fubmit  to  critics'  tyranny : 
For  learned  wights  there  is  no  greater  fhame, 

That  blindly  with  their  dictates  to  comply. 

Who  ever  taught  the  eagle  how  to  fly, 
Whofe  wit  did  e'er  his  airy  tract  define, 

When  with  free  wing  he  claims  his  native  fky, 
Say,  will  he  ftcer  his  courfe  by  rule  and  line  ? 
Certcs,  he'd  fcorn  the  hounds  that  would  his  flight 
confine. 

IX. 

Not  that  the  Mufes'  art  is  void  of  rules : 

Many  there  are,  I  wot,  and  ftricter  far, 
Than  thofe  which  pedants  dictate  from  the  fchools, 

Who  wage  with  wit  and  tafte  eternal  war : 

For  foggy  ignorance  their  fight  doth  mar ; 
Nor  can  their  low  conception  ever  reach 

To  what  dame  Nature,  crown'd  with  many  a 

ftar, 

Fxplains  to  fuch  as  know  her  learned  fpeech ; 
But  few  can  comprehend   the   leffops  flie  doth 
teach. 

X. 
As  many  as  the  ftars  that  gild  the  Iky, 

As  many  as  the  flow'rs  that  paint  the  ground, 
In  number  like  the  infect  tribes  that  fly, 

The  various  forms  of  beauty  ftill  are  found; 

That  with  ftrict  limits  no  man  may  them  bound, 
And  fay  that  this,  and  this  alone,  is  right : 

Experience  foon  fuch  rafhnefs  would  confound, 
And  make  its  folly  obvious  to  the  light ; 
i'or  fuch  prefumption  Jure  becomes  not  mortal 
wight. 

XI. 

Therefore  each  bard  fhou)d  freely  entertain 

The  hints  which  pleafing  fancy  gives  at  will ; 
Nor  curb  her  fallies  with  tod  flrict  a  rein, 

Nature  fubjectihg  to  her  hand-maid  fkill : 

And  you  yourfelf  in  this  have  done  but  ill ; 
With  many  more,  who  have  not  comprehended 

That  genius,  crampt,  will  rarely  mount  the  hill, 
Whofe  forked  fummit  with  the  clouds  is  blended : 
Therefore,  when  next  you  write,  let  this  defect 
be  mended.  . 

xn. 
But,  like  a  friend,  who  candidly  reproves 

For  faults  and  errors  which  he  doth  efpy, 
Each  vice  he  freely  marks ;  yet  always  loves 

To  mingle  favour  with  feverity. 

Certes,  quoth  he,  I  cannot  well  deny, 
That  you  in  many  things  may  hope  to  pleafe : 

You  force  a  barbarous  northern  tongue  to  ply, 
And  bend  it  to  your  purpofes  with  eafe ; 
Though  rough  as  Albion's  rocks,  and  hoarfer  than 
her  ftas. 

ziii. 
Nor  are  your  talcs,  1  wot,  fo  loofely  yok'd, 

As  thofe  which  Colin  Clout  *  did  tell  before ; 
Nor  with  defcription  crowded  fo,  and  chok'd, 

Which,  thinly  fpread,  will  always  pleafe  the 
more. 

Colin,  I  wot,  was  rich  in  Nature's  fiore ; 
Jjlore.  rich  than  you,  had  more  than  he  could  ufe : 

But  mad  Orlando  f  taught  him  had  his  lore ; 

*   Sprnfcr. 

;}•   Aiio/la,  fa  called  from  bis  Itro. 


Whofe  flights   at  random,  oft  mifled  hi,  mnfc ; 
To  follow  fuch  a  guide,  few  prudent  men  would 
choofc. 

XIV. 

Me  you  have  follow'd :  Nature  was  my  guide  t 
To  this  the  merit  of  your  verfc  is  owing: 

And  know  for  certain,  let  it  check  your  pride 
1  hat  all  you  boaft  of  is  of  my  beftowinK. 
The  flow'rs  I  fee,   through  all  your  garden 
blowing, 

Alif/r1ule  ;.moft  Part»  at  lcaft  :  I  might  demand, 

Might  claim  them,  as  a  crop  of  my  own  fowinp, 
And  leave  but  few,  thin  fcatter'd  o'er  the  land: 
A  claim  fo  juft,  I  wot,  you  could  not  well  with- 
itand. 

xv. 
Certes,  quoth  I,  that  juftice  were  foil  hard, 

Which  me  alone  would  fentencc  to  reftore ; 
When  many  a  learned  fage,  and  many  a  bard, 

Are  equally  yo'ur  debtors,  or  much  more. 

Let  Tityrus  *  himfelf  produce  his  ftorc. 
Take  what  is  thine,  but  little  wili  remain: 

Little,  I  wot,  and  that  indebted  lore 
To  Afcra's  bardf,  and  Arethufa's  fwain } ; 
And  others  too  befide;  who  lent  him  many  t 
ft  rain. 

XVI. 

Nor  could  the  modern  bards  afford  to  pay, 

Whofe    fongs    exalt    the    champions   of    the 

Crofs ; 

Take  from  each  hoard  thy  flerling  gold  away, 
And  little  will  remain  but  wor chiefs  drof*. 
Not  bards  alone  could  ill  fupport  the  lofs ; 
But  fages  too,  whofe  theft  fufpicion  fliunnM  : 
Ev'n  that  fly  Greek,  §,  who  {leak  and  hidct  f« 

clofe, 

Were  half  a  bankrupt,  if  he  fliould  refund,     .  _ , 
While   thefe   arc  all  forboin,    fliall   I   alone   be 
dunn'd. 

xvn. 
He  fmil'd ;  and  from  his  wrath,  which  well  cou!4 

fpare 
Such  boon,  the  wreath  with  which  his  lockl 

were  clad, 

Pluck'd  a  few  leaves  to  hide  my  temples  bare ; 
The  prefent  I  receiv'd  with  heart  full  glad.      • 
Henceforth,  quoth  I,  I  never  will  be  fad ; 
For  now  I  fhall  obtain  my  fhare  of  fame : 

Nor  will  licentious  wit,  or  envy  bad, 
With  bitter  taunts,  my  verfes  dare  to  blame  : 
This  garland  (hall  protect  them,  and  exalt  my 
name. 

xvin. 
But  dreams  are  fhort ;  for  as  1  thought  to  lay 

My  limbs,  at  eafe,  upon  the  flow'ry  ground. 
And  drink,  with  greedy  ear,  what  he  nuprJu  fay. 
Asmurm'ring  waters  fwcct,  or  mufic's  found, 
My  fleep  departed  ;  and  I,  waking,  found 
Myfelf  again  by  Fortha'*  pkafant  ftrcam. 

Homewards  I  ftepp'd,  in  meditation  urown'd. 
Reflecting  on  the  meaning  of  my  dream ; 
Which  let  each  wight  interpret  as  him  bcft  dock 
fecm. 

*   J'Srtrtl.         f  HtfieJ.         J   llntritsi. 
§   Plato,    rti-lcciird  h\   l.r.xnnvt   tae  ff  tit 
• 

P  Hij 


L   E    S. 


TO   THE   EARL   OF  L  AUD 


MY  LORD, 

IT  is  undoubtedly  an  uneafy  fituation  to  lie  under 
great  obligations,  without  being  able  to  make  fuit- 
able  returns  :  all  that  can  be  done  in  this  cafe,  is, 
to  acknowledge  the  debt,  which  (though  it  does 
not  entitle  to  an  acquittance)  is  looked  upon  as 
a  kind  of  compenfation,  being  all  that  gratitude 
has  in  its  power. 

This  is  in  a  peculiar  manner  my  fituation  with 
jefpect  to  your  Lordfhip.  What  you  have  done 
for  me  with  the  moft  uncommon  favour  and  con- 
defcenfion  is  what  1  fhall  never  be  able  to  repay ; 
and,  therefore,  have  ufed  the  freedom  to  recom- 
.jiiend  the  following  performance  to  your  protec 
tion,  that  I  might  have  an  opportunity  of  acknow 
ledging  my  obligations  in'  the  moft  public  manner. 

It  is  evident,  that  the  world  will  hardly  allow 
my  gratitude  upon  this  occafion  to  be  difinterefted. 
Your  diftinguifhed  rank,  the  additional  honours 
derived  from  the  luftre  of  your  auceftors,  your 


own  uncommon  abilities,  equally  adapted  to  the 
fervice  of  your  country  in  peace  and  in  war,  are 
c  rcumftance?  fufficiqnt  to  make  any  author  am- 
bitiqus  of  your  Lordfhip's  patronage.  But  I  muft 
do  myfelf  the  juftice  to  infift,  it  is  upon  the  ac 
count  of  diftin<Stions  lefs  fplendid,  though  far  more 
interefting  (  thofe,  J  mean,  by  which  you  are  di 
ftinguifhed  as  the  friend  of  human  nature,  the 
guide  and  patron  of  unexperienced  youth,  and  the 
father  of  the  poor),  that  J  am  zealous  of  fubfcribf; 
ing  myfelf, 

My  Lord, 

Your  Lordfhip's 

Moft  humble,  ajnd 
Moft  devoted 


WILLIAM  WJLKIE* 


FABLE    I. 


THE    YOUNG    I.ADY-  AND    THE    LOOKING-GLASS. 


YE  deep  philofophers  who  can 
Explain  that  various  creature,  man, 
Say,  is  there  any  point  fo  nice, 
As  that  of  offering  an  advice  ? 
T  o  bid  your  friend  his  errors  mend, 
,1s  almofl  certain  to  offend  : 
Though  you  in  fofteft  terms  advife, 
Confefs  him  good ;  admit  him  wife ; 
In  vain  you  fweeten  the  difcourfe, 
He  thinks  you  call  him  fool,  or  worfe ; 
You  paint  his  character,  and  try 
If  he  will  own  it,  and  apply. 
Without  a  name  reprove  and  warn  : 
Here  none  are  hurt,  and  all  may  learn; 
This,  too,  muft  fail,  the  picture  fhown, 
No  man  will  take  it  for  his  own. 
Jn  moral  lectures  treat  the  cafe, 
Say  this  is  honeft,  that  is  bafe; 
In  converfation  none  will  bear  it ; 
And  for  the  pulpit,  few  come  near  it. 
And  is  there  th^en  no  other  way 
A  moral  leflbn  to  convey  ? 


Muft  all  that  fhall  attempt  to  teach, 
Admonifh,  fatirizq,  or  preach  ? 
Yes,  there  is  one,  an  ancient  art, 
,By  fages  found  to  reach  the  heart, 
Ere  fcience  with  diftinclions  nice, 
Had  fix'd  what  virtue  is  and  vice, 
Inventing  all  the  various  names 
On  which  the  moralift  declaims : 
They  would  by  fihiple  tales  advife, 
Which  took  the  hearer  by  furprife;- 
Alarm'd  his  confcience,  unprepared, 
Ere  pride  had  put  it  on  its  guard  ;    " 
And  made  him  from  himfelf  receive 
The  leflbns  which  they  meant  to  give. 
That  this  device  will  oft  prevail, 
And  gain  its  end  when  others  fail, 
If  any  fhall  pretend  to  doubt, 
The  tale  which  follows  it  makes  out. 

There  was  a  little  ftubborn  dame 
Whom  no  authority  could  tame, 
Reftivd  by  long  indulgence  grown, 
No  will  Ihe  minded  but  her  own  ; 


"FABLES.* 


At  trifles  oft  flie'd.  fcold  and  fret, 
Then  in  a  corner  take  a  feat, 
And  fourly  moping  all  the  day 
Difdain  alike  to  work  or  play. 
Papa  all  fofter  arts  had  try'd, 
And  (harper  remedies  apply'd; 
But  both  were  vain,  for  every  courfe 
He  took  ftill  made  her  worfe  and  Worfe. 
'Tis  ftrange  to  think  how  female  wit, 
So  oft  fhould  make  a  lucky  hit, 
"When  man  with  all  his  high  pretence 
To  deeper  judgment,  founder  fenfe, 
Will  err,  and  meafures  falfe  purfue-.-* 
'Tis  very  ftrange  I  own,  but  true— 
Mama  obferv'd  the  riling  lafs, 
By  ftealth  retiring  to  the  glafs, 
To  pra&ife  little  airs  unfeen, 
In  the  true  genius  of  thirteen  : 
Qn  this  a  deep  defign  fhe  laid 
To  tame  the  humour  of  the  maid; 
Contriving  like  a  prudent  mother 
To  make  one  folly  cure  another. 
Upon  the  wall  againft  the  feat 
Which  JefTy  us'd  for  her  retreat, 
Whene'er  by  accident  offended, 
A  looking-glafs  was  ftraight  fuipended, 
That  it  might  fhow  her  how  deform'd 
She  look'd,  and  frightful  when  ftie  ftorm'd  ; 
And  warn  her  as  fhe  priz'd  her  beauty, 
TO  bend  her  humour  to  her  duty, 
All  this  the  looking-glafs  atchiev'd, 
Its  threats  were  minded  and  believ'd. 

The  maid  \Vho  fpurn'd  at  all  advice, 
Grew  tame  and  gentle  in  a  trice  ; 
,.j>o  when  all  other  means  had  fail'd 
The  iilent  monitor  prevail'd. 

Thus,  fable  to  the  human  kind 
Prefents  an  image  of  the  mind, 
It  is  a  mirror  where  we  fpy 
At  large"  our  own  deformity, 
And  learn  of  courfe  thofe  faults  to  mend 
Which  but  to  mention  would  offend. 

FABLE  II. 

THE  KITE  AND  THE  ROOKS, 

You  fay  'tis  vain  in  verfe  or  profe 

To  tell  what  ev'ry  body  knows, 

And  ftretch  invention  to  exprefs    . 

Plain  truths  which  all  men  will  confefs . 

Go  on  the  argument  to  mend, 

Prove  that  to  know  is  to  attend, 

And  that  we  ever  keep  in  fight 

What  reafon  tells  us  once  is  right ; 

Till  this  is  done  you  muft  excufe 

The  zeal  and  freedom  of  my  mufe 

In  hinting  to  the  human-kind, 

what  few  deny  but  fewer  mind : 

There  is  a  folly  which  we  blame, 

'Tis  ftrange  that  it  fhould  want  a  name, 

For  fure  no  other  finds  a  place 

So  often  in  the  human  race, 

I  menn  the  tendency  to  fpy 

Our  neighbour's  faults  with  fharpen'd  eye, 

And  make  his  lighteft  failings  known, 

Without  attending  to  our  owiu 


The  prude  in  daily  ufe  ta  vex  -  .  _   » .- 

With  groundlefs  cenfure  half  the  fcx, 
Of  rigid  virtue  honour  nice, 
And  much  a  foe  to  every  vice, 
Tells  lies  without  remorfe  and  fhamc. 
Yet  never  thinks  herfelf  to  blame. 
A  fcriv'ner,  though  afraid  to  kill, 
Yet  fcruples  not  to  forge  a  will ; 
Abhors  the  foldier's  bloody  feats, 
While  he  as  freely  damns  all  cheat* : 
The  reafon's  plain,  'tis  not  his  way 
To  lie,  to  cozen  and  betray. 
But  tell  me  if  to  take  by  force, 
Is  not  as  bad  at  leaft,  or  worfe. 
The  pimp  who  owns  it  as  his  trade 
To  potch  for  letchers,  and  be  paid. 
Thinks  himfelf  honeft  in  his  ftation, 
But  rails  at  rogues  that  fell  the  nation 
Nor  would  he  ftoop  in  any  cafe, 
And  ftain  his  honour  for  a  place. 
To  mark  this  error  of  mankind 
The  tale  which  follows  is  defign'd. 

A  flight  of  rooks  one  harveft  mom 
Had  ftopt  upon  a  field  of  corn, 
Juft  when  a  kite  as  authors  fay, 
W  as  pafling  on  the  wing  that  ilby  : 
His  honeft  heart  was  fill'd  with  pain, 
To  fee  the  farmer  lofe  his  grain, 
So  lighting  gently  on  a  fliock 
He  thus  the  foragers  befpoke : 
"  Believe  me,  Sirs,  your  much  to  blame, 
'Tis  ftrange  that  neither  fear  nor  fhamc 
Can  keep  you  from  your  ufual  way 
Of  ftealth,  and  pilf  ring  every  day. 
No  fooner  has  the  induftjious  fwain 
His  field  turn'd  up  and  fbw'd  the  graity 
But  ye  come  flocking  on  the  wing, 
Prepar'd  to  fnatch  it  ere  it  fpring: 
And  after  all  his  toil  and  care 
Leave  every  furrow  fpoil'd  and  bare : 
If  ought  efcapes  your  greedy  bills, 
Which  nurs'd  by  rammer  grows  and  fills, 
'Tis  ftill  your  prey :  and  though  ye  know 
No  rook  did  ever  till  or  fow, 
Ye  boldly  reap,  without  regard 
To  juftice,  induftry's  icward, 
And  ufe  it  freely  as  your  own, 
Though  men  and  cattle  fhcu'd  get  none* 
I  never  did  in  any  cafe 
Defcend  to  practices  fo  bafe. 
Though  ftung  with  hunger's  fharpeft  paia 
I  ftill  have  fcorn'd  to  touch  a  grain, 
Ev'n  when  I  had  it  in  my  j»ow'r 
To  do't  with  fafety  every  hour : 
For,  truft  me,  nought  that  can  be  gain'd 
Is  worth  a  character  unflain'd." 

Thus  with  a  face  auftcrely  grave 
Harangu'd  the  hypocrite  and  knave ; 
And  anfwering  from  amidft  the  flock 
A  rook  with  indignation  fpoke. 

«  What  has  been  faid  is  ftridly  true, 
Yet  comes  not  decently  from  you ; 
For  furc  it  indicates  a  mind 
From  felfifh  paffions  more  than  blind, 
To  mifs  your  greater  crimes,  and  quote 
Our  lighter  failings  thus  by  rote. 


THE  WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


I  muft  confefs  we  wrong  the  fwain 
Too  oft  by  pilf 'ring  of  his  grain  : 
But  is  our  guilt  like  yours,  I  pray, 
Who  rob  and  murder  every  day  ? 
No  harmlefs  bird  can  mount  the  ikiej 
But  you  attack  him  as  he  flies ; 
And  when  at  eve  he  lights  to  reft, 
You  ftoop  and  fnatch  him  from  his  neft. 
The  hufbandman  who  feems  to  fhare 
So  large  a  portion  from  your  care, 
Say,  is  he  ever  off  his  guard, 
While  you  are  hov'ring  o'er  the  yard  ? 
He  knows  too  well  your  ufual  tricks 
Your  ancient  fpite  to  tender  chicks, 
And  that  you  like  a  felon  watch, 
For  fomething  to  furprife  and  fnatch.** 

At  this  rebuke  fo  juft,  the  kite 
Surprised,  abafti'd,  and  filenc'd  quite, 
And  prov'd  a  villain  to  his  face, 
Straight  foar'd  aloft  and  left  the  place. 

FABLE  III. 

THE    MUSK    AND    THE    SHEPHERD. 

I>ET  every  bard  who  feeks  applaufe 
Be  true  to  virtue  and  her  caufe, 
Nor  ever  try  to  raife  his  fame 
By  praififlg  that  which  merits  blame1; 
The  vain  attempt  he  needs  muft  rue, 
Pordifappointment  will  enfue. 
Virtue  with  her  fuperior  charms 
Exalts  the  poet's  foul  and  warms, 
His  tafte  refines,  his  genius  fires, 
Jjke  Phoebus  and  the  nine  infpires ; 
While  vice  though  feemingly  approv'd 
Is  coldly  flatter 'd,  never  lov'd. 

Palemon  once  a  ftory  told, 
Which  by  conje&ure  muft  be  old  : 
I  have  a  kind  of  half  conviction 
That  at  the  beft  'tis  but  a  fiction  ; 
But  taken  right  and  underftood. 
The  moral  certainly  is  good. 

A  ihepherd  fwain  was  wont  to  fing 
The  infant  beauties  of  the  fpring, 
The  bloom  of  fummer,  winter  hoar, 
The  autumn  rich  in  various  ftore ; 
And  prais'd  in  numbers  ftrong  and  clear 
The  Ruler  of  the  changeful  year. 
To  human  themes  he'd  next  defcend, 
The  fhepherd's  harmlefs  life  commend, 
And  prove  him  happier  than  the  great 
With  all  their  pageantry  and  ftate ; 
Who  oft  for  pleaiure  and  for  wealth, 
Exchange  their  innocence  and  health ; 
The  Mufes  liften'd  to  his  lays ; 
And  crown'd  him  as  he  fung  with  bays. 
Euterpe,  goddefs  of  the  lyre, 
A  harp  beftow'd  with  golden  wire  : 
And  oft  wou'd  teach  him  how  to  fing, 
Or  touch  with  art  the  trembling  firing. 
His  fame  o'er  all  the  mountains  flew, 
And  to  his  cot  the  fhepherds  drew ; 
They  heard  his  mufic  with  delight, 
Whole  fummer  days  from  morn  to  night : 


Nor  did  they  ever  think  him 

Such  was  the  magic  of  his  fong : 

Some  rural  prefent  each  prepar'd, 

His  fkili  to  honour  and  reward ; 

A  flute,  a  fheep-hook  or  a  lamb, 

Or  kidling  follow'd  by  its  dam  : 

For  bards  it  feems  in  earlier  day», 

Got  fomething  more  than  empty  praifc. 

All  this  continued  for  a  while, 

But  foon  our  fongfter  chang'd  his  ftyle, 

Infected  with  the  common  itch, 

His  gains  to  double  and  grow  rich : 

Or  fondly  feeking  new  applaufe, 

Or  this  or  t'other  was  the  caufe; 

One  thing  is  certain  that  his  rhimes 

Grew  more  obfequious  to  the  times, 

Lefs  ftiff  and  formal,  alter'd  quite 

To  what  a  courtier  calls  polite. 

Whoe'er  grew  rich,  by  right  or  wrong', 

Became  the  hero  of  a  fong  : 

No  nymph  or  fhepherdefs  could  wed, 

But  he  muft  fing  the  nuptial  bed, 

And  ftill  was  ready  to  recite 

The  fecret  tranfports  of  the  night, 

In  drains  too  luicious  for  the  ear 

Of  fober  chaftity  to  bear. 

Aftonifh'd  at  a  change  fo  great, 

No  more  the  fhepherds  fought  his  feat, 

But  in  their  place  a  horned  crowd 

Of  fatyrs  flock'd  from  every  wood, 

Drawn  by  the  magic  of  his  lay, 

To  dance,  to  frolic,  fport,  and  play. 

The  goddefs  of  the  lyre  difdain'd 

To  fee  her  facred  gift  profan'd, 

And  gliding  fwiftly  to  the  place, 

With  indignation  in  her  face, 

The  trembling  fhepherd  thus  addrefs'd, 

In  awful  majefty  confefs'd. 

"  Thou  wretched  fool,  that  harp  rcfigcj, 
For  know  it  is  no  longer  thine ; 
It  was  not  given  you  to  infpire 
A  herd  like  this  with  loofe  defire, 
Nor  to  aflift  that  venal  praife 
Which  vice  may  purchafe,  if  it  pays: 
Such  offices  my  lyre  difgrace  ; 
Here  take  this  bagpipe  in  its  place. 
'Tis  fitter  far,  believe  it  true, 
Both  for  thefe  mifcreantsand  you." 

The  fwain  difmay'd,  without  a  word, 
Submitted,  and  the  harp  reftor'd. 


FABLE  IV. 


THE    GXASHOPPER    AND    THE    GIOWWOKM. 

WHEN  ignorance  poflefs'd  the  fchools, 
And  reign 'd  by  Ariftotle's  rules, 
Ere  Verulam,  like  dawning  light, 
Rofe  to  difpel  the  Gothic  night : 
A  man  was  taught  to  fhut  his  eyes, 
And  grow  abftracted  to  be  wife. 
Nature's  broad  volume  fairly  fpread, 
Where  all  true  fcience  might  be  read, 
The  wifdom  of  th'  Eternal  Mind, 
Declar'd  and  publifh'd  to  mankind, 


FABLE  S. 


Was  quite  -neglected,  for  the  whims 

Of  mortals  and  their  airy  dreams : 

By  narrow  principles  and  few, 

By  hafty  maxims,  oft  untrue, 

By  words  and  phrafes  ill-defin'd, 

livafive  truth  they  hop'd  to  bind; 

Which  ftill  cfcap'd  them,  and  the  elves 

At  laft  caught  nothing  but  themfelves. 

Nor  is  this  folly  modern  quite, 

'Tis  ancient  too  ;  the  Stagyrite 

Improv'd  at  firft,  and  taught  his  fchool 

By  rules  of  art  to  play  the  fool. 

Ev'n  Plato,  from  example  bad, 

Would  oft  turn  fophift,  and  run  mad : 

Makes  Socrates  himfelf  difcourfe 

Like  Clarke  and  Leibnitz,  oft-times  worfe ; 

'Bout  quirks  and  fubtilties  contending, 

Beyond  all  human  comprehending. 

From  fome  ftrange  bias  men  purfue 

Falfe  knowledge  ftill  in  place  of  true, 

Build  airy  fyftems  of  their  own, 

This  moment  rais'd,  the  next  pull'd  down ; 

While  few  attempt  to  catch  thofe  rays 

Of  truth  which  nature  ftill  difplays 

Throughout  the  univerfal  plan, 

From  mofs  and  mufhrooms  up  to  man. 

This  fure  were  better,  but  we  hate 

To  borrow  when  we  can  create ; 

And  therefore  ftupidly  prefer 

Our  own  conceits,  by  which  we  err, 

To  all  the  wifdom  to  be  gain'd 

From  nature  and  her  laws  explain'd. 

One  ev'ning,  when  the  fun  was  fet, 
A  grafhopper  and  glowworm  met 
Upon  a  hillock  in  a  dale,   . 
As  Mab  the  fairy  tells  the  tale. 
Vain  and  conceited  of  his  fpark, 
Which  brighten'd  as  the  night  grew  dark, 
The  mining  reptile  fwell'd  with  pride 
To  fee  his  rays  on  every  fide, 
Mark'd  by  a  circle  on  the  ground 
Of  livid  light,  fome  inches  round. 

Quoth  he,  if  glowworms  never  flione, 
To  light  the  earth  when  day  is  gone, 
In  fpite  of  all  the  ftars  that  burn, 
Primeval  darknefs  would  return : 
They're  lefs  and  dimmer,  one  may  fee, 
Befides  much  farther  off  than  we  ; 
And  therefore  through  a  long  defcent 
Their  light  is  fcatter'd  quite  and  fpent : 
While  ours,  comparer  and  at  hand, 
Keeps  night  and  darknefs  at  a  ftand, 
DifFus'd  around  in  many  a  ray, 
Whofe  brightnefs  emulates  the  day. 

This  pafs'd  and  more  without  difpute, 
The  patient  grafhopper  was  mute  ; 
Butfoon  the  eaft  began  to  glow 
With  light  appearing  from  below, 
And  level  from  the  ocean's  ftreams 
The  moon  emerging  {hot  her  beams, 
To  giW  the  mountains  and  the  woods, 
And  (hake  and  glitter  on  the  floods. 
The  glowworm,  when  he  found  his  light 
Grow  pale,  and  faint,  and  vanifh  quite,. 
Before  the  moon's  prevailing  ray, 
Began  his  cavy  to  difplay. 


That  globe,  qnoth  he,  which  feetm  fo  fklr, 
Which  brightens  all  the  earth  and  air, 
And  fends  Us  beams  fo  far  abroad, 
Is  nought,  believe  me,  but  a  clod  ; 
A  thing,  which,  if  the  fun  were  gone, 
Has  no  more  light  in't  than  a  ftonc, 
Subfifting  merely  by  fupplies 
From  Phoebus  in  the  nether  ikies: 
My  light,  indeed,  I  mufl  confeCs, 
On  fotne  occafions  will  be  lefs ; 
But  fpite  itfelf  will  hardly  fay 
I'm  debtor  for  a  fingle  ray; 
'Tis  all  my  own,  and  on  the  fcore 
Of  merit  mounts  to  ten  times  more 
Than  any  planet  can  demand 
For  light  difpens'd  at  fecond  hand. 
To  hear  the  paltry  infect  boaft 
The  grafhopper  all  patience  loft. 

Quoth  he,  my  friend,  it  may  be  fo, 
The  moon  with  borrow'd  light  may  glow; 
That  your  faint  glimm'ring  is  your  own, 
I  think  is  queftion'd  yet  by  none : 
But  fure  the  office  to  colled 
The  folar  brightnefs  and  reflecl:, 
To  catch  thofe  rays  that  would  be  fpent 
Quite  ufelefs  in  the  firmament, 
And  turn  them  downwards  on  the  (hade 
Which  abfence  of  the  fun  has  made, 
Amounts  to  more,  in  point  of  merit, 
Than  all  your  tribe  did  e'er  inherit : 
Oft  by  that  planet's  friendly  ray 
The  midnight  traveller  finds  his  way; 
Safe  by  the  favour  of  his  beams 
'Midft  precipices,  lakes,  and  ftreams ; 
While  you  miflcad  him,  and  your  light, 
Seen  like  a  cottage  lamp  by  night, 
With  hopes  to  find  a  fafe  retreat, 
Allures  and  tempts  him  to  his  fate : 
As  this  is  fo,  I  needs  muft  call 
The  merit  of  your  light  but  fmall : 
You  need  not  boaft  on't  though  your  own; 
'Tis  light,  indeed,  but  worfe  than  none; 
Unlike  to  what  the  moon  fupplies, 
Which  you  call  borrow'd,  and  defpife. 

FABLE  V. 

THE  ATE,  THE  PARROT,  AND  THE  JACKDAW* 

1  HOLD  it  rafh  at  any  time 

To  deal  with  fools  difpos'd  to  rhimc  ; 

Difluafive  arguments  provoke 

Their  utmoft  rage  as  foon  as  fpokc ; 

Encourage  them,  and  for  a  day 

Or  two  you're  fafe,  by  giving  way : 

But  when  they  find  themfelves  bctray'd, 

On  you  at  laft  the  blame  is  laid. 

They  hate  and  fcoru  you  as  a  traitor, 

The  common  lot  of  thofe  who  flatter : 

But  can  a  fcribbler,  Sir,  be  fliunn'd  ? 

What  will  you  do  when  tcaz'd  and  dunn'd  ? 

When  watch'd,  and  caught,  and  clofely  prefc'd, 

When  complimented  and  addrcfs'd : 

When  Bavhis  greets  you  with  a  bow, 

"  Sir,  pleafc  to  read  a  line  or  two." 

If  you  approve,  and  fay  they're  clever^ 

«  You  make  me  happy,  Sir,  for  ever.** 


6. 

What  can  be  done  ?  the  cafe  is  plain, 
No  methods  of  efcape  remain  : 
You're  fairly  noos'd,  and  muft  confent 
To  bear,  what  nothing  can  prevent, 
A  coxcomb's  anger ;  and  your  fate 
Will  be  to  fuffer  foon.or  late. 

An  ape,  that  was  the  fole_delight 
Of  an  old  woman  day  and  night, 
Indulg'd  at  table  aud  in  bed, 
Attended  like  a  child,  and  fed  : 
Who  knew  each  trick,  and  twenty  more 
Than  ever  monkey  play'd  before, 
At  laft  grew  frantic,  and  would  try, 
In  fpite  of  natvire's  laws,  to  fly. 
Oft  from  the  window  would  he  view 
The  paffing  fwallows  as  they  flew, 
Obferve  them  fluttering  round  the  walls, 
Or  gliding  o'er  the  fmooth  canals  : 
He  too  muft  fly,  and  cope  with  thcfe ; 
For  this  and  nothing  elfe  would  pleafe  : 
Oft  thinking  from  the  window's  height, 
Three  {lories  down  to  take  his  flight : 
He  ftill  was  fomething  loth  to  venture, 
As  tending  ftrongly  to  the  centre: 
And  knowing  that  the  leaft  miftake 
Might  coft  a  limb,  perhaps  his  neck:  _ 
The  cafe  yx>u'll  own  was  fomething  nice ; 
He  thought  it  heft  to  afk  advice  ; 
And  to  the  parrot  ftraight  applying, 
Allow'd  to  be  a  judge  of  flying, 
He  thus  began  :  "  You'll  think  me  rude, 
•  Forgive  me  if  I  do  intrude, 
For  you  alone  my  deubts  can  clear 
In  fomething  that  concerns  me  near :  - 
Do  you  imagine,  if  I  try, 
That  I  mall'e'er  attain  to  fly  ? 
The  project's  whimfical  no  doubt, 
But,  ere  you  cenfure,  hear  me  out : 
That  liberty's  our  greateft  blefling 
You'll  grant  me  without  farther  prefling ; 
To  live  confin'd,  'tis  plain  and  clear 
Is  fomething  very  hard  to  bear : 
This  you  muft  know,  who  for  an  age 
Have  been  kept  pris'ner  in  a  cage, 
Deny'd  the  privilege  to  foar 
With  boundlefs  freedom  as  before. 
1  have,  'tis  true,  much  greater  fcope 
Than' -you,  my  friend,  can  ever  hope ; 
I  traverfe  all  the  houfe,  and  play 
My  tricks  and  gambols  everyday: 
Oft  with  my  miftrefs  in  a  chair 
I  ride  abroad  to  take  the  air : 
Make  vifits  with  her,  walk  at  large, 
A  maid  or  footman's  conftant  charge. 
Yet  this  is  nothing,  for  I  find 
Myfelf  ftill  hamper'd  and  confin'd; 
A  grov'ling  thing  :  I  fain  would  rife 
Above  the  earth,  and  mount  the  flues: 
The  meaneft ;  birds,  and  infedstoo, 
This  feat  with  greateft  cafe  can  do. 
To  that  gay  creature  turn  about 
That's  beating  on  the  pane  without ! 
Ten  days  ago,  perhaps  but  five, 
A  worm,  it  fcarcely  feem'd  alive :     ' 
By  threads  fufpended,  tough  and  fmall, 
^Midft  dufty  cgbwcbs  on  a  wall ; 


WORKS   OF   WILKIE. 


Now  drefs'd  in  all  the  diff'rcnt  dyes 
That  vary  in  the  ev'ning  flcies, 
Ho  foars  at  large,  and  on  the  wing 
Enjoys  with  freedom  ail  the  fpring ; 
Skims  the  frefh  lakes,  and  rifing  fees 
Beneath  him  far  the  loftieft  trees  • 
And  when  he  lefts,  he  makes  his  bow'r 
The  cup  of  fome  delicious  flow'r. 
Shall  creatures  fo  obfcurely  bred, 
On  mere  corruption  nurs'd  and  fed, 
A  glonous  privilege  obtain, 
Which  I  can  never  hope  to  gain  ? 
'Shall  I,  like  man's  imperial  race 
In  manners,  cuitoms,  fliape,  and  face, 
Expert  in  all  ingenious  tricks, 
To  tumb.le,  dance,  and  leap  o'er  flicks,; 
Who  know  to  footh  and  coax  my  betters, 
And  match  a  beau,  at  leaft. in  letters; 
Shall  1  defpair,  and  never  try 
(What  meaneft  infjfts  can) to  fly? 
Say,  mayn't  I  without  dread  or  care 
At  once  commit  me  to  the  air, 
And  not  fall  down  and  break  my  bonec 
Upon  thofe  hard  and  flinty  ftones  ? 
Say,  if  to  ftir  my  limbs  before 
Will  make  me  glide  along  or  foar  ? 
All  things  they  fay  are  learn'd  by  trying: 
No  doubt  it  is  the  fame  with  flying. 
I  wait  your  judgment  with  I'efped, 
And  ihall'proceed  as  you  direct:. 

If  oor  poll,  with  gen'rous  pity  mov'd. 
The  ape's  fond  ralhnefs  thus  reprov'd: 
For,  though  inftructed  by  mankind, 
Her  tongue  to  candour  ftill  inclin'd. 

My  friend,  the  privilege  to  rife 
Above  the  earth,  and  mount  the  flcies, 
Is  glorious  fure,  and  'tis  my  fate 
To  feel  the  want  on't  with  regret ; 
A  pris'ner  to  a  cage  confin'd, 
Though  wing'd  and  of  the  flying  kind. 
With  you  the  cafe  is  not  the  fame, 
You're  quite  terreftrial  by  your  frame, 
And  fliould  be  perfectly  content 
With  your  peculiar  element : 
You  have  no  wings,  I  pray  reflect, 
To  lift  you  and  your  courfe  direct ; 
Thofe  arms  of  yours  will  never  do, 
Not  twenty  in  the  place  of  two  ; 
They  ne'er  can  lift  you  from  the  ground, 
For  broad  and  long,  they're  thick  and 
And  therefore  if  you  choofe  the  way, 
To  leap  the  window,  as  you  fay, 
'Tis  certain  that  you'll  be  the  jeft 
Of  every  infecT;,  bird,  and  beaft ; 
When  you  lie  batter'd  by  your  fall 
Juft  at  the  bottom  of  the  wall.    « 
Be  prudent  then,  improve  the  pow'rs 
Which  nature  gives  in  place  of  ours. 
You'll  find  them  readly  conduce 
At  once  to  pleafure  and  to  ufe. 
But  airy  whims  and  crotchets  lead 
To  certain  lols,  and  ne'er  fucceed ; 
As  folks,  though  inly  vex'd  and  teaz'd, 
Will  oft  feem  iatisfy'd  and  pleas'd. 

The  ape  approv'd  of  every  word 
At  this  tune  utter'd  by  the  bird : 


FABLES. 


But  nothing  in  opinion  chang'd, 
Thought  only  how  to  he  reveng'd. 
It  happen'd  whew  the  day  was  fair, 
That  Foil  was  fet  to  take  the  air, 
Juft  where  the  Monkey  oft  fat  poring 
About  experiments  in  foaring  : 
Diflembling  his  contempt  and  rage, 
.He  ftept  up  foftly  to  the  cage, 
And  with  a  fly  malicious  grin, 
Accofted  thus  the  bird  within. 

You  fay,  I  am  not  ibrm'd  for  flight ; 
In  this  you  certainly  are  right: 
'Tis  very  plain  upon  reflection, 
But  to  yourfelf  there's  no  objection, 
Since  flying  is  the  very  trade 
For  which  the  winged  race  is  made ; 
And  therefore  for  our  mutual  fport, 
I'll  make  you  fly,  you  can't  be  hurt. 
With  that  he  flyly  flipt  the  firing 
Which  held  the  cage  up  by  the  ring. 
In  vain  the  Parrot  begg'd  and  pray'd, 
No  word  was  minded  that  ilie  faid  : 
Down  went  the  cage,  and  on  the  ground 
Bruis'd  and  half-dead  poor  Poll  was  found. 
Pug  who  for  fome  time  had  attended 
To  that  alone  which  now  was  ended, 
Again  had  leifure  to  purfu« 
The  project  he  had  firft  in  view. 

Quoth  he,  a  perfon,  if  he's  wife 
Will  only  with  his  friends  advife, 
They  know  his  temper  and  his  parts, 
And  have  his  intereft  near  their  hearts. 
In  matters  which  he  Ihould  forbear, 
They'll  hold  him  back  with  prudent  care, 
But  never  from  an  envious  fpirit 
Forbid  him  to  difplay  his  merit ; 
Or  judging  wrong  from  fpleen  and  hate 
His  talents  flight  or  underrate  ; 
I  acted  fure  with  fmall  reflection 
In  a(king  counfel  and  direction 
From  a  fly  minion  whom  I  know 
To  be  my  rival  and  my  foe : 
One  who  will  conftantly  endeavour 
To  hurt  me  in  our  lady's  favour, 
And  watch  and  plot  to  keep  me  down, 
From  obvious  interefts  of  her  own  : 
But  on  the  top  of  that  old  tow'r 
An  honeft  Daw  has  made  his  bow'r  ; 
A  faithful  friend  whom  one  may  truft, 
My  debtor  too  for  many  a  cruft ; 
Which  in  the  window  oft  I  lay, 
For  him  to  come  and  take  away  : 
From  gratitude  no  doubt  he'll  give 
Such  counfel  as  I  may  receive ; 
Well  back'd  with  reafons  ftrong  and  plain 
To  pufli  me  forward  or  reftrain. 

One  morning  when  the  Daw  appear'd, 
The  project  was  propos'd  and  hearn  : 
And  though  the  bird  was  much  furpris'd 
To  find  friend  Pug  fo  ill  advis'd, 
He  rather  chofe  that  he  Ihould  try 
At  his  own  proper  rifk  to  fly, 
Than  hazard,  in  a  cafe  fo  nice, 
To  (hock  him  by  too  free  advice. 

Quoth  he,  I'm  certain  that  you'll  find 
The  project  anfwer  to  your  mind  ; 
"Without  fuipicion,  dread  or  care. 
At  once  cotam.it  you  to  the  air ; 


You'll  foar  aloft,  or,  if  you  pleafe, 
Proceed  ftraight  forwards  at  your  eafe  : 
The  whole  depends  on  refolution. 
Which  you  poflefs  from  conftitution ; 
And  if  you  follow  as  I  lead, 
'Tis  paft  a  doubt  you  muft  fucceed. 

So  faying,  from  the  turret's  height, 
The  Jackdaw  (hot  with  downward  flight, 
And  on  the  edge  of  a  canal, 
Some  fifty  paces  from  the  wall, 
'Lighted,  obtequious  to  attend 
The  Monkey  when  he  fhould  defend: 
But  he,  although  he  had  believ'd 
The  flatterer  and  was  deceiv'd. 
Felt  fome  mifgivings  at  his  heart    • 
In  vent 'ring  on  fo  new  an  art : 
But  yet  at  laft  'tween  hope  and  fear 
Him  felt"  he  trufted  to  the  air. 
But  far'd  like  him  whom  poets  mention 
With  Dednlus'sold  invention: 
Directly  downwards  on  his  head 
He  fell,  and  lay  an  hour  for  dead. 
The  various  creatures  in  the  place 
Had  different  thoughts  upon  the  cafe, 
From  fome  his  fate  companion  drew, 
But  thofe  I  mult  confefs  were  few : 
The  reft  elteem'd  him  rightly  ferv'd, 
And  in  the  manner  he  deferv'd. 
For  playing  tricks  beyond  his  fphere, 
Nor  thought  the  punithment  fevere. 
They  gather'd  round  him  as  he  lay, 
And  jeer'd  him  when  he  lirap'd  away. 

Pug  difuppointed  thus  and  hurt, 
And  grown  befides  the  public  fport, 
Found  ail  his  different  pallions  change 
At  once  to  fury  and  revenge  : 
The  Daw  'twas  ufelefs  to  purfue. 
His  helplefs  brood  as  nest  in  view, 
With  unrelenting  paws  he  feiz'd, 
One's  neck  he  wrung,  another  fqueez'd, 
Till  of  the  number  tour  or  five, 
No  fmgle  bird  was  left  alive. 

Thus  counfellors,  in  all  regards     . 
Though  different,  meet  with  like  rewards: 
The  itory  (hows  the  certain  fate 
Of  every  mortal  fflfci  or  late, 
Whofe  evil  genius  for  his  crimes 
Connects  with  any  fop  that  rhimes. 

FABLE  VI. 

THE  BOY  AND  THt  RAINBOW. 

DECLARE,  ye  fages,  if  ye  find 
"Mongft  animals  of  ev'ry  kind, 
Of  each  condition  fort  and  fize, 
From  whales  and  elephants  to  flies, 
A  creature  that  miftakes  his  plan, 
And  errs  fo  conftantly  as  man. 
Each  kind  pnrfues  his  proper  good. 
And  feeks  for  pleafure,  reit  and  food, 
As  nature  points,  and  never  errs 
In  what  it  chooies  and  prefers  ; 
Man  only  blunders,  though  pofleft 
Of  talents  far  above  the  reft. 

Defcend  to  mftances  and  try; 
An  ox  will  fcarce  attempt  to  fly, 
Or  leave  his  pafture  in  the  wood 
With  fiflies  to  explore  the  flood, 


THE  WORKS    OF   WILKIE. 


Man  only  acts  of  every  creature, 
In  oppofition  to  his  nature. 
The  happinefs  of  human-kind 
Conltfts  in  rectitude  of  mind, 
A  will  fubdu'd  to  reafon's  fway, 
And  paflions  practis'd  to  obey  ; 
An  open  and  a  gen'rous  heart, 
Refin'd  from  felfifhnefs  and  art ; 
Patience  which  mocks  at  fortune's  pow'r, 
And  wifdom  never  fad  nor  four : 
In  thefe  confift  our  pr&per  blifs ; 
Elfe  Plato  reafons  much  amil's: 
But  foolifli  mortals  dill  purfue 
Falfe  happinefs  in  place  of  true  ; 
Ambition  ferves  us  for  a  guide, 
Or  lu  ft,  or  avarice,  or  pride  ; 
While  reafon  no  afifent  can  gain, 
And  revelation  warns  in  vain. 
Hence  through  our  lives  in  ev'ry  ftage, 
From  infancy  itfelf  to  age, 
A  happinefs  we  toil  to  find, 
Which  (till  avoids  us  like  the  wind ; 
Ev'n  when  we  think  the  prize  our  own, 
At  once  'tis  vanifli'd,  loft  and  gone. 
You'll  afk  me  why  I  thus  reheirfe, 
All  Epictetus  in  my  verfe, 
And  if  I  fondly  hope  to  pleafe 
With  dry  reflections,  fuch  as  thefe, 
So  trite,  fo  hackny'd,  and  fo  ftale.? 
I'll  tike  the  hint  and  tell  a  tale. 
One  ev'ning  as  a  fimple  fwain 
His  flock  attended  on  the  plain, 
The  mining  bow  he  chanc'd  to  fpy, 
Which  warns  us  when  a  fliow'r  is  nigh ; 
With  brighteft  rays  it  feem'd  to  glow, 
Its  diftance  eighty  yards  or  fo. 
This  bumpkin  had  it  feems  been  told 
The  ftory  of  the  cup  of  gold, 
Which  fame  reports  is  to  be  found 
Juft  where  the  rainbow  meets  the  ground ; 
He  therefore  felt  a  fudden  itch 
To  feize  the  goblet  and  be  rich ; 
Hoping,  yet  hopes  are  oft  but  vain, 
No  more  to  toil  through  wind  and  rain, 
But  fit  indulging  by  the  fire, 
'Midft  eafe  and  plenty,  like  a  'fquire  : 
He  mark'd  the  very  fpot  of  land 
On  which  the  rainbow  feem'd  to  ftand, 
And  ftepping  forwards  at  his  leiiure 
Expected  to  have  found  the  treafure. 
But  as  he  moy'd,  the  colour'd  ray 
Still  chang'd  its  place  and  dipt  away, 
As  feeming  his  approach  to  fimn ; 
From  walking  he  began  to  run, 
But  all  in  vain,  it  ftill  withdrew 
As  nimbly  as  he  could  purfue  ; 
At  laft  through  many  a  bog  and  lake, 
Rough  craggy  rock  and  thorny  brake, 
It  led  the  eafy  fool,  till  night 
Approach'd,  then  vanifli'd  in  his  fight, 
^nd  left  him  to  compute  his  gains, 
With  nought  but  labour  for  his  pains. 

FABLE  VII. 

CELIA  AND  HER  MIRROR. 

As  there  are  various  forts  of  minds, 
So  frieadfljips  are  of  difi"'icnt  kinds  j 


Some,  conftant  when  the  object's  near, 

Soon  vanifli  if  it  difappear. 

Another  fort,  with  equal  frame, 

In  abfence  will  be  ftill  the  fame  : 

Some  folks  a  trifle  will  provoke, 

Their  weak  attachment  foon  is  broke ; 

Some  great  offences  only  move 

To  change  in  friendfliip  or  in  love. 

Affection  when  it  has  its  fource 

In  things  that  fliift  and  change  of  courfe, 

As  thefe  diminifh  and  decay, 

Muft  likewife  fade  and  melt  away. 

But  when  'tis  of  a  nobler  kind, 

Infpir'd  by  rectitude  of  mind, 

Whatever  accident  arrives, 

It  lives,  and  death  itfelf  furvives; 

Thofe  different  kinds  reduc'd  to  two, 

Falfe  friehdfhip  may  be  call'd  and  true. 

In  Celia's  drawing-room  of  late 
Some  female  friends  were  met  to  chat; 
Where  after  much  diicourfe  had  paft, 
A  portrait  grew  the  theme  at  laft  : 
'Twas  Celia's  you  muft  understand, 
And  by  a  celebrated  hand. 
Says  one,  that  picture  fure  muft  ftrike. 
In  all  refpects  it  is  fo  like : 
Your  very  features,  fliape  and  air 
Exprefs'd,  believe  me,  to  a  hair  : 
The  price  I'm  fure  could  not  be  fmall— 
Juft  fifty  guineas  frame  and  ail- 
That  Mirror  there  is  wond'rous  fine 
I  own  the  bauble  coft  me  nine; 
I'm  fairly  cheated  you  may  fwear, 
For  never  was  a  thing  fo  dear : 
Dear — quoth  the  Looking-glafs — and  fpoke, 
Madam,  it  would  a  faint  provoke  : 
Muft  that  fame  gaudy  thing  be  own'd 
A  pennyworth  at  fifty  pound ; 
While  I  at  nine  am  reckon'd  dear, 
'Tis  what  I  never  thought  to  hear. 
Let  both  our  merits  now  be  try'd, 
This  fair  afiembly  fhall  decide ; 
And  I  will  prove  it  to  your  face, 
That  you  are  partial  in  the  cafe. 
I  give  a  likenefs  far  more  true 
Than  any  artift  ever  drew  : 
And  what  is  vaftly  more,  exprefs 
Your  whole  variety  of  drefs : 
From  morn  to  noon,  from  noon  to  night, 
I  watch  each  change  and  paint  it  right; 
Befides  I'm  miftrefs  of  the  art,        ' 
Which  conquers  and  fequres  a  heart. 
I  teach  you  how  to  ufe  thofe  arms, 
That  vary  and  aflift  your  charms, 
And  in  the  triumphs  of  the  fair, 
Claim  half  the  merit  for  my  fliare : 
So  when  the  truth  is  fairly  told, 
I'm  worth  at  leaft  my  weight  in  gold: 
But  that  vain  thing  of  which  you  fpeak 
Becomes  quite  ufelefs  in  a  week. 
For,  though  it  had  no  other  vice, 
'Tis  out  of  fafluon  in  a  trice, 
The  cap  is  chang'd,  the  cloak,  the  gown  ; 
It  muft  no  longer  ftay  in  town  ? 
But  goes  in  courfe  to  hide  a  wall 
With  others  in  our  country-hall. 

The  Mirror  thus: — the  nymph  reply 'd/ 
Your  merit  cannot  be  deny'd; 


FABLES. 


The  portrait  too,  I  mud  confcfs, 

In  fome  refpects  has  vaftly  lefs. 

But  you  yourfelf  will  freely  grant 

That  it  has  virtues  which  you  want. 

'Tis  certain  that  you  can  exprel's 

My  lhape,  my  features,  and  my  drefe, 

Not  juft  as  well,  but  better  too 

Than  Kneller  once  or  Ramfay  now. 

But  that  fame  image  in  your  heart 

Which  thus  excels  the  painter's  art, 

The  morteft  abfence  can  deface, 

And  put  a  monkey's  in  its  place  : 

That  other  which  the  canvafs  bears, 

Unchang'd  and  conftant,  lafts  for  years, 

Would  keep  its  lultre  and  its  bloom 

Though  it  were  here  and  I  at  Rome. 

When  age  and  ficknefs  fhall  invade 

Thofe  youthful  charms  and  make  them  fade, 

You'll  foon  perceive  it,  and  reveal 

What  partial  friendship  Ihould  conceal : 

You'll  tell  me,  in  your  ufual  way, 

Of  furrow'd cheeks  and  locks  grown  gray; 

Your  gen'rous  rival,  not  fo  cold, 

Will  ne'er  fuggeft  that  I  am  old ; 

Nor  mark  when  time  and  flow  difeafe 

Has  ftol'n  the  graces  won't  pleafe ; 

But  keep  my  image  to  be  feen 

In  the  full  bloflbm  of  ilxteen  : 

Beftowing  freely  all  the  praife 

I  merited  in  better  days. 

You  will  (when  I  am  turn'd  to  dufr> 

For  beauties  die,  as  all  things  muft, 

And  you  remember  but  by  feeing) 

Forget  that  e'er  I  had  a  being  ; 

But  in  that  picture  I  fhall  live, 

My  charms  (hall  death  itfelf  furvivej 

And  figur'd  by  the  pencil  there 

Tell  that  your  miftrefs  once  was  fair. 

Weigh  each  advantage  and  defect, 

The  portrait  merits  moft  refpect : 

Your  qualities  would  recommend 

A  lervant  rather  than  a  friend ; 

But  fervice  fure  in  ev'ry  cafe, 

To  friendfliip  yields  the  higher  place. 

FABLE  VIII. 

THE  FISHERMEN. 

Imitated  from  Theocritus, 

BY  all  the  fages  'tis  confeft 
That  hope  when  moderate  is  beft : 
But  when  indulg'd  beyond  due  meafure 
It  yields  a  vain  deceitful  pleafore, 
Which  cheats  the  fimple,  and  betrays 
To  mifchief  in  a  thoufand  ways; 
'Juft  hope  affifts  in  all  our  toils, 
The  wheels  of  induftry  it  oils ; 
In  great  attempts  the  bofom  fires, 
And  zeal  and  conftancy  infpites. 
Falfe  hope,  like  a  deceitful  dream, 
Refts  on  fome  vifionary  fcheme, 
And  keeps  us  idle  to  our  lofs, 
Enchanted  with  our  hands  acrofs. 
A  tale  an  ancient  bard  has  told 
Of  two  poor  filhermen  of  old, 
Their  names  were  (left  I  fliou Id  forget 
And  put  the  reader  in  a  pet, 


Left  critics  too  fhould  make  a  pother) 
The  one  Afphelio,  Gripus  t'  other. 
The  men  were  very  poor,  their  trade 
Could  fcarce  afford  them  daily  bread : 
Though  ply'd  with  induftry  and  care 
Through  the  whole  feafon,  foul  and  fair. 
Upon  a  rock  their  cottage  ftood, 
On  all  fides  bounded  by  the  flood  : 
It  was  a  miferable  feat, 
Like  cold  and  hunger's  worft  retreat : 
And  yet  it  ferv'd  them  both  for  life, 
As  neither  could  maintain  a  wife ; 
Two  walls  were  rock,  and  two  were  fand, 
Ramm'd  up  with  Hakes  and  made  to  Hand. 
A  roof  hung  threat'ning  o'er  their  head* 
Of  boards  half-rotten,  thatch'd  with  reeds. 
And  as  no  thief  e'er  touch  their  (lore, 
A  hurdle  ferv'd  them  for  a  door. 
Their  beds  were  leaves;  againft  the  wall 
A  fail  hung  drying,  yard  and  all. 
On  one  fide  lay  au  old  patch'd  wherry, 
Like  Charon's  on  the  Stygian  ferry  i 
On  t*  other,  bafkets  and  a  net, 
With  fea-weed  foul  and  always  wet. 
Thcfe  forry  inftruments  of  trade 
Were  all  the  furniture  they  had : 
For  they  had  neither  fpit  nor  pot, 
Unlefs  my  author  has  forgot. 

Once  fome  few  hours  ere  break  of  day. 
As  in  their  hut  our  fifhers  lay, 
The  one  awak'd,  and  wak'd  his  neighbour, 
That  both  might  ply  their  daily  labour ; 
For  cold  and  hunger  are  Cornell 
No  friends  to  indolence  or  reft. 

Friend,  quoth  the  drowfy  fwain,  and  furore. 
What  you  have  done  has  hurt  me  more 
Than  all  your  fervice  can  repay 
For  years  to  come  by  night  and  day  ; 
You've  broke— the  thought  on't  makes  me  mad— • 
The  (inert  dream  that  e'er  I  had. 

Quoth  Griptw :  friend  your  fpeech  would  prove 
You  mad  indeed,  or  elfe  in  love ; 
For  dreams  mould  weigh  but  light  with  thole 
Who  feel  the  want  of  food  and  clothe*. : 
I  guefs,  though  fimple  and  untaught, 
You  dream'd  about  a  lucky  draught, 
Or  money  found  by  chance  :  they  fay 
That  "  hungry  foxes  dream  of  prey." 

You're  wond'rous  Ihrewd,  upon  my  troth, 
Afphelio  cry'd,  and  right  in  both  : 
My  dream  had  gold  in't,  as  you  faid. 
And  fifliing  too,  «ur  conftant  trade  ; 
And  fince  your  guefs  has  hit  fo  near, 
In  fliort,  the  whole  on't  you  fiull  tear. 

"  Upon  the  more  I  feem'd  to  ftand, 
My  rod  and  tackle  in  my  hand ; 
The  baited  hook  full  oft  I  threw. 
But  ftili  in  vain,  I  nothing  drew  : 
A  fifli  at  laft  appear'd  to  bite. 
The  cork  div'd  qtu'ckly  out  of  fight, 
And  foon  the  dipping  rod  I  found 
With  fomething  weighty  bent  half  round : 
Quoth  I,  good  luck  has  come  at  laft,   • 
I've  lurely  made  a  happy  caft : 
This  fifli,  when  in  the  market  foid. 
In  place  of  brats  will  fcil  for  gold  : 
To  bring  it  lafc  within  my  reach, 
I  drew  it  foftly  to  the  bt*..  h  i 


#4 

But  long  ere  it  had  come  fo  near 

The  water  gleam'd  with  fomething  clear ; 

Each  paffing  billow  caught  the  blaze, 

And  glitt'ring,  flione  with  golden  rays. 

Of  hope  and  expectation  full 

Impatient,  yet  afraid  to  pull, 

To  fliore  I  (lowly  brought  my  prize, 

A  golden  fifli  of  largeft  fize  : 

'Twas  metal  all  from  head  to  tail, 

Quite  ftiffand  glitt'ring  ev'ry  fcale. 

Thought  I,  my  fortune  now  is  made ; 

'Tis  time  to  quit  the  fifhing  trade, 

And  choofe  fome  other,  where  the  gains 

Are  fure,  and  come  for  half  the  pains, 

Like  creatures  of  amphibious  nature 

One  hour  on  land,  and  three  on  water; 

We  live  'midft  danger,  toil,  and  care, 

Vet  never  have  a  groat  to  fpare ; 

While  others  not  expos'd  to  harm, 

Grow  rich  though  always  dry  and  warm  ; 

This  treafure  will  fuffice,  and  more, 

To  place  me  handfomely  on  (hore, 

In  fome  fnug  manor ;  now  a  fwain, 

My  fleers  (hall  turn  the  furrow'd  plain, 

While  on  a  mountain's  gratify  fide 

My  flocks  are  paft'ring  far  and  wide : 

Befide  all  this,  I'll  have  a  feat 

Convenient,  elegant,  and  neat, 

A  houfe  not  over  great  nor  fmall, 

Three  rooms,  a  kitchen,  and  a  hall. 

The  offices  coritriv'd  with  care, 

And  fitted  to  complete  a  fquare ; 

A  garden  well  laid  out ;  a  wife, 

To  double  all  the  joys  of  life  ; 

With  children  prattling  at  my  knees, 

Such  trifles  as  are  fure  to  pleafe. 

Thofe  gay  defigns,  and  twenty  more, 

I  in  my  dream  was  running  o'er, 

Whibe  you,  as  if  you  ow'd  me  fpite, 

Broke  in  and  put  them  all  to  flight, 

Blew  the  whole  vifion  into  air, 

And  left  me  waking  in  defpair. 

Of  late  we  have  been  poorly  fed, 

Laft  night  went  fupperlefs  to  bed  : 

Yet,  it  I  had  it  in  my  pow'r 

My  dream  to  lengthen  for  an  hour, 

The  pleafure  mounts  to  fuch  a  fum, 

I'd  fail  for  fifty  yet  to  come. 

Therefore  to  bid  me  rife  is  vain, 

I'll  wir.k  and  try  to  dream  again. 

If  this,  quoth  Gripus,  is  the  way 
You  choofe,  I've  nothing  more  to  fay  ; 
'Tis  plain  that  dreams  ol  wealth  will  ferve 
A  perlbn  who  refolves  to  ftarve  ; 
But  fure  to  Hug  a  fancy 'd  cafe, 
That  never  did  nor  can  take  place, 
And  for  the  pleafures  it  can  give 
Neglect  the  trade  by  which  we  live, 
Is  madnefs  in  its  greateft  height, 
Or  I  miftake  the  matter  quite  : 
Leave  fuch  vain  fancies  to  the  great, 
For  folly  fuits  a  large  eftate  : 
The  rich  may  fafely  deal  in  dreams, 
Romantic  hopes  and  airy  fchemes; 
But  you  and  I,  upon  my  word, 
Such  paftime  cannot  well  afford  ; 
And  therefore  if  you  would  be  wife, 
Take  my  advice,  for  oncfl',  and  rife. 


THE   WORKS   OF  WILKIE. 


FABLE  IX. 

CUPID  AND  THE  SHEPHERD. 

WHO  fets  his  heart  on  things  below 

But  little  happinefs  (hall  know  ; 

For  every  object  he  purfues 

Will  vex,  deceive  him,  and  abufe  : 

While  he  on  hopes  and  wifhes  rife 

To  endlefs  blifs  above  the  ikies, 

A  true  felicity  (hall  gain, 

With  freedom  from  both  care  and  pain. 

He  feeks  what  yields  him  peace  and  reft. 

Both  when  in  profpect  and  pofleft. 

A  fwain  whofe  flock  had  gone  aftray, 
Was  wand'ring  far  out  of  his  way 
Through  deferts  wild,  and  chanc'd  to  fee 
A  (tripling  leaning  on  a  tree, 
In  all  things  like  the  human  kind, 
But  that  upon  his  back  behind 
Two  wings  were  from  his  (houlders  fpread 
Of  gold  and  azure,  ting'd  with  red  ; 
Their  colour  like  the  ev'ning  iky  : 
A  golden  quiver^rac'd  his  thigh  : 
His  bow  unbended  in  his  hand 
He  held,  and  wrote  with  on  the  fandj 
As  one  whom  anxious  cares  purfue, 
In  mufing  oft  is  wont  to  do. 
He  darted  (till  with  fudden  fear, 
As  if  fome  danger  had  been  near, 
And  turn'd  on  every  fide  to  view 
A  flight  of  birds  that  round  him  flew, 
Whofe  prefence  feem'd  to  make  him  fao^ 
For  all  were  ominous  and  bad  ; 
The  hawk  was  there,  the  type  of  fpite, 
The  jealous  owl  that  fhuns  the  light, 
The  raven,  whofe  prophetic  bill 
Denounces  woe  and  mifchief  (till ; 
The  vulture  hungry  to  devour, 
Though  gorg'd  and  glutted  ev'ry  hour ; 
With  thefe  confus'd  an  ugly  crew 
Of  harpies,  bats,  and  dragons  flew, 
With  talons  arm'd,  and  teeth,  and  (tings, 
The  air  was  darken'd  with  their  wings. 
The  fwain,  though  frighten'd,  yet  drew  near,.. 
Companion  rofe  in  place  of  fear, 
He  to  the  winged  youth  began, 
"  Say,  are  you  mortal  and  of  man, 
Or  fomething  of  celeftial  birth, 
From  heaven  defcended  to  the  earth  ? 
I  am  not  of  terreftrial  kind, 
Quoth  Cupid,  nor  to  earth  confin'd  : 
Heav'n  is  my  true  and  proper  fphwV, 
My  reft  and  happiness  are  there ; 
Through  all  the  boundlefs  realms  of  light 
The  phoenix  waits  upon  my  flight, 
With  other  birds  whofe  names  are  known 
In  that  delightful  place  alone. 
But  when  to  earth  my  courfe  I  bend, 
At  once  they  leave  me  and  afcend ; 
And  for  companions  in  their  (lead, 
Thofe  winged  monfters  there  fucceed, 
Who  hov'ring  round  me  night  and  day, 
Expect  and  claim  me  as  their  prey. 

Sir,  quoth  the  fhepherd,  if  you'll  try, 
Your  arrpws  foon  will  wake  them  fly  ; 
Or  if  they  brave  them  and  relift, 
My  fling  is  ready  to  affift. 


FABLES. 


Incapable  of  wounds  and  pain, 
'  Reply'd  the  winged  youth  again, 
Thefe  foes  our  weapons  will  defy ; 
Immortal  made,  they  never  die  ; 
But  live  to  haunt  me  every  where, 
While  I  remain  within  their  fphere. 

Sir,  quoth  the  fwain,  might  I  advife, 
You  ftraight  mould  get  above  tta  Ikies  : 
It  feems  indeed  your  only  way, 
For  nothing  here  is  worth  your  flay ; 
Befide,  when  foes  like  thefe  mcleft, 
You'll  find  but  little  peace  or  red. 

FABLE  X. 

THE    SWAN    AND    THE    OTHER    BIRDS 

EACH  candidate 'for  public  fame 
Engages  in  a  defp'rate  game  : 
His  labour  he  will  find  but  loft, 
Or  lefs  than1  half  repaid  at  moil : 
To  prove  this  point  1  fhall  not  choofe 
The  arguments  y.'hich  Stoics  ufe; 
That  human  lift;  is  but  a  dream, 
And  few  things  in  it  what  they  feem  ; 
That  praife  is  vain  and  little  worth, 
An  empty  bauble,  and  fo  forth. 
I'll  offer  one,  but  of  a  kind 
Not  half  fo  fubtle  and  tefin'd; 
Which,  when  the  reft  are  out  of  fight, 
May  fometimes  chance-to  have  its  weight. 
The  man  who  fets  his  merits  high, 
To  glitter  in  the  public  eye, 
Should  have  defecis  but  -very  fmal!, 
Or  ftri&ly  fpeaking,  none  at  all : 
3;or  that  iuccefs  which  fpreads  his  fame, 
Provokes  each^envious  tongue  to  blame, 
And  makes  his  faults  and  failings  known 
Where'er  his  better  parts  are  fhov.-n. 

Upon  a  time,  as  poets  fmg, 
The  birds  all  waited  on  their  king, 
His  hymeneal  rites  to  grace  ; 
A  flow'ry  meadow  was  the  place ; 
They  all  were  frolickfome  and  gay 
Amidft  thepleafures  of  the  day, 
And  ere  the  feftival  was  clos'd, 
A  match  at  finging  was  propos'd  ; 
The  queen  herfelf  a  wreath  prepar'd, 
To  be  the  conqueror's  reward ; 
With  ftoi  e  of  pinks  and  dailies  in  it, 
And  many  a  fongfter  try'd  to  win  it ; 
But  all  the  judges  ibon  confeft 
The  fwan  fuperior  to  the  reft ; 
He  go.;  the  garland  from  the  bride, 
Wirh  honour  and  applaufe  befide: 
A  tattling  goofe,  with  envy  ftung, 
Although  herfelf  ihe  ne'er  had  fung, 
Took  this  occafion  to  reveal 
What  fwans  feem  ftudious  to  conceal, 
And,  fk-.il'd  in  fatire's  artful  ways, 
Invective  introduc'd  with  praife. 

The  fwan,  quoth  Ihe,  upon  my  word, 
Deferves  applaufe  from  ev'ry  bird  : 
By  proof  his  charming  voice  you  know, 
His  feathers  foft  and  white  as  fnow  ; 
And  if  you  faw  him  when  he  fwims 
Majeftic  on  the  filver  ftreams, 
He'd  feem  complete  in  all  refpe<3s: 
But  nothing  is  without  deft&s ; 
VOL.  XI. 


For  that  is  true,  which  few  Woaldthiulf, 
His  legs  and  feet  are  black-as  ink- 
As  black  as  ink— if  this  be  truj, 
To  me  'tis  wonderful  and  new, 
The  fov'reign  of  the  birds  rcply'd  ; 
But  foon  the  truth  on't  (hall  be  try'd. 
Sir,  (how  your  limbs, 'and  1'or  my  Me, 
Confute  at  once  this  foul  niiftakc, 
1'or  I'll  maintain,  and  I  am  right, 
That,  lik>;  your  feathers,  they  are  white. 
Sir,  quoth  the  fwan,  it  would  be  vain 
For  me  a  falfchood  to  maintain ; 
My  legs  are  black,  and  proof  will  (how 
Beyond  difpute  that  thcj  are  fo  : 
But  if  I  hud  not  got  a  prize 
Which  glitters  much  in  fome  folk's  eyei, . 
Not  half  the  birds  had  ever  known 
What  truth  now  forces  me  to  own. 

FABLE  XI. 

THE    LOVER   AND    HIS    FRIEND. 
To  the  Poets. 

'Tis  not  the  point  in  works  of  art 
With  care  to  furnifh  every  part, ' 
That  each  to  high  perfection  raisM, 
May  draw  attention  and  be  prais'd, 
An  objedt  by  itfelf  refpeded, 
Though  all  the  others  were  negkcied ; 
Not  mafters  only  this  can  do, 
But  many  a  Vulgar  artift  too : 
We  know  diflinguifh'd  merit  mofl. 
When  in  the  whole  the  parts  are  loft, 
When  nothing  rifes  up  to  fhine, 
Or  draw  us  from  the  chief  defign, 
When  one  united  full  effect 
Is  felt,  before  we  can  reflect 
And  mark  the  caufes  that  oonfpire 
To  charm  and  force  us  to  admire. 
This  is  indeed  a  maftcr's  part, 
The  very  fummit  of  his  art ; 
And,  therefore,  when  yc  fhall  rehearfe 
To  friends  for  trial  of  your  verfe, 
Mark  their  behaviour  apd  their  way, 
As  much,  at  Icaft,  as  what  they  fay  ; 
If  they  feem'd  pleas'd,  and  yet  are  mute, 
The  poem's  good  beyond  difpute ; 
But  when  they  babble  all  the  while, 
Now  praife  the  fenfe,  and  now  the  ftylc, 
'Tis  plain  that  fomething  muft  be  wrong, 
1'his  too  weak  or  thartoo  ftrong. 
The  art  is  wanting  which  conveys 
Imprefiions  in  myfterious  way*, 
And  makes  us  from  a  whole  receive 
What  no  divided  parts  can  give: 
Fine  writing,  therefore,  feems  of  cotirfe, 
Lefs  fit  to  pleafe  at  firft  than  worfe. 
A  language  fitted  to  the  fenfe 
Will  hardly  pafs  for  eloquence. 

One  f  .els  its  force,  before  he  fee*. 
The  charm  which  gives  it  pow'r  to  pleafe, 
And  ere  inftru«Sed  to  admire, 
Will  read  and  read,  and  never  tire. 
But  when  the  ftyle  is  of  a  kind 
Which  foars  and  leaves  the  fenfe  behind, 
'Tis  fomething  by  itfelf,  and  draws 
From  vulgar  judges  dull  applaufc ; 
£ 


THE  WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


They'll  yawn,  and  tell  you  as  you  read, 
"  1'hofe  lines  are  mighty  fine  indeed ;" 
But  never  will  your  works  perufe 
At  any  time,  if  they  can  choofe. 
*Tis  not  the  thing  which  men  call  wit, 
Nor  characters,  though  truly  hit, 
Nor  flowing  numbers  foft  or  ftrong, 
That  bears  the  raptur'd  foul  along ; 
*Tis  fomething  of  a  diff  "rent  kind, 
'Tis  all  thofe  fkilfully  combin'd, 
To  make  what  critics  call  a  whole, 
Which  ravifhes  and  charms  the  fouL 

Alexis  by  fair  Celia's  fcorn 
To  grief  abandon'd  and  forlorn, 
Had  fought  in  folitude  to  cover 
His  anguiih,  like  a  hopelefs  lover  : 
With  his  fond  paffion  to  debate, 
Gay  Strephon  fought  his  rural  feat, 
And  found  him  with  the  fhepherds  plac'd 
Far  in  a  folitary  wafte.— 

My  friend,  quoth  he,  you're  much  to  blame ; 
This  foolilh  foftnefs  quit  for  fhame  ; 
Nor  fondly  doat  upon  a  woman, 
Whofe  charms  are  nothing  more  than  common. 
That  Celia's  handfome  I  agree, 
But  Clara's  handfomer  than  fhe : 
Euanthc's  wit,  which  all  commend, 
Does  Celia's  certainly  tranfcrnd  :  • ' 
Nor  can  you  find  the  leaft  pretence 
With  Phebe's  to  compare  her  fenfe; 
With  better  taft'e  Belinda  dreftes, 
With  truer  ftep  the  floor  fhe  prefles ; 
And  for  behaviour  foft  and  kind, 
Meliffa  leaves  her  far  behind : 
What  witchcraft  then  can  fix  the  chain 
Which  makes  you  fuffer  her  difdain, 
And  not  attempt  the  manly  part 
To  fet  at  liberty  your  heart  ? 
Make  but  one  ftruggle,  and  you'll  fee 
That  in  a  moment  you'll  be  free. 

This  Strephon  urg'd,~and  ten  times  more, 
From  topics  often  touch' d  before  : 
In  vain  his  eloquence  he  try'd; 
Alexis,  fighing,  thus  reply'd: 

If  Clara's  handfome  and  a  tqaft, 
*Tis  all  the  merit  fhe  cau  boafl : 
Some  fame  Euanthe's  wit  has  gain'd, 
Becaufe  by  prudence  not  reftrain'd.    ' 
Phebe  I  own  is  wondrous  wife, 
She  never  a<3s  but  in  difguife: 
Belinda's  merit  all  confefs 
Who  know  the  myftery  of  drefs  : 
But' poor  Melifla  on  the  fcore 
Of  mere  good-nature  pleafes  more  ; 
In  thofe  the  reigning  charm  appears 
Alone,  to  draw  our  eyes  and  ears, 
No  other  rifes  by  its  fide 
And  fhines,  attention  to  divide; 
Thus  feen  alone  it  ftrikes  the  eye, 
As  fomething  exquifite  and  high : 
But  in  my  Celia  you  will  find 
Perfection  of  another  kind  ; 
Each  charm" fo  artfully  expreft 
As  flill  to  mingle  with  the  reft: 
Averfe  and  fliunning  to  be  known, 
An  object  by  itfelf.  alone, 
But  thus  combin'd  they  make  a  fpell 
Whofe  force  no  human  tongue  can  tell ; 


A  pow'rful  magic  which  my  breaft 
Will  ne'er  be  able  to  refift  : 
For  as  fhe  flights  me  or  complies, 
Her  conflant  lover  lives  or  dies. 

FABLE  XII. 

THE    RAKE    AND    THE    HERMIT. 

A  YOUTH,  a  pupil  of  the  town, 
Philofopher  and  atheift  grown, 
Benighted  once  upon  the  road, 
Found  out  a  hermit's  lone  abode, 
Whofe  hofpitality  in  need 
Reliev'd  the  trav'ler  and  his  fleed, 
For  both  fufficiently  were  tir'd, 
Welldrench'd  in  ditches  and  bemir'd. 
Hunger  the  firft  attention  claims  ; 
Upon  the  coals  a  rafher  flames, 
Dry  crufts,  and  liquor  fomething  flale, 
Were  added  to  make  up  a  meal ; 
At  which  our  trav'ler  as  he  fat 
By  intervals  began  to  chat. — 

'Tis  odd,  quoth  he,  to  think  what  ftrains 
Of  folly  govern  forne  folk's  brains ! 
What  makes  you  choofe  this  wild  abode  ? 
You'll  fay,  'tis  to  converfe  with  God  : 
Alas,  I  fear,  'tis  all  a  whim : 
You  never  faw  or  fppke  with  him. 
They  talk  of  Providence's  pow'r, 
And  fay  it  rules  us  every  hour ; 
To  me  all  nature  feems  confufion, 
And  fuch  weak  fancies  mere  delufion. 
Say,  if  it  rul'd  and  govern'd  right, 
Could  there  be  fuch  a  thing  as  night ; 
Which,  wlten  the  fun  has  left  the  fkies. 
Puts  all  things  in  a  deep  difguife  ? 
If  then  a  tray'Ier  chance  to  ftray 
The  leaft  ftep  from  the  public  way, 
He's  foon  in  endlefs  mazes  loft, 
As  I  have  found  it  to  my  coft. 
Befi'les,  the  gloom  which  nature  wears 
Affifts  imaginary  fears 
Of  ghofls  and  goblins  from  the  wares 
Of  fulph'rous  lakes,  and  yawning  graves; 
All  fprung  from  fuperftitious  feed, 
Like  other  maxims  of  the  creed. 
For  my  part,  I  reject  the  tales 
Which  faith  fuggefts  when  reafon  fails : 
And  reafon  nothing  underftands, 
Unwarranted  by  eyes  and  hands. 
Thefe  fubtle  effences,  like  wind, 
Which  fome  have  dreamt  of,  and  call  mind, 
It  ne'er  admits;  nor  joins  thd  lie 
Which  fays  men  rot,  but  never  die. 
It  holds  all  future  things  in  doubt, 
And  therefore  wifely  leaves  them  out: 
Suggefting  what  is  worth  our  care, 
To  take  things  prefent  as  they  are, 
Our  wifeft  courfe  :  the  reft  is  folly, 
The  fruit  of  fpleen  and  melancholy.— 

Sir,  quoth  the  hermit,  I  agree 
That  reafon  ftill  our  guide  fliould  be  : 
And  will  admit  her  as  the  left, 
Of  what  is  true,  and  what  is  befl : 
'  But  reafon  fure  would  blufh  for  fhame 
At  what  you  mention  in  her  name  ; 
Her  dictate  s  are  fublime  and  holy  ; 
Impiety's  the  child  of  folly  :  ' 

5 


FABLES. 


Reafon  with  meafur'd  fteps  and  flow, 
To  things  above  from  things  below 
Afcends,  and  guides  us  through  her  fphere 
With  caution,  vigilance,  atul  care. 
Faith  in  the  utmoft  frontier  ftands, 
And  reafon  puts  her  in  her  hands, 
But  not  till  her  commiffion  giv'n 
Is  found  authentic,  and  from  heav'n. 
'Tis  ftrange  that  man,  a  reas'ning  creature, 
Should  mifs  a  god  in  viewing  nature  : 
Whofe  high  perfections  are  difplay'd 
Jn  ev'ry  thing  his  hands  have  made  : 
Zv'n  when  we  think  their  traces  loft, 
When  found  again,  we  fee  them  mbft  ; 
The  night  itfelf  which  you  would  blame 
As  fomething  wrong  in  nature's  frame, 
Is  but  a  curtain  to  inveft 
Her  weary  children,  when  at  reft : 
Like  that  which  mothers  draw  to  keep 
The  light  off  from  a  child  afleep. 
Befide,  the  fears  which  darknefs  breeds 
At  leaft  augments  in  vulgar  heads, 
Are  far  from  ufelefs,  when  the  mind 
Is  narrow,  and  to  earth  confin'd  ; 
They  make  the  worldling  think  with  pain 
On  frauds  and  oaths,  and  ill-got  gain  ; 
Force  from  the  ruffian's  hand  the  knife 
Juft  rais'd  againft  his  neighbour's  life ; 
And  in  defence  of  virtue's  caufe 
Affift  each  fancflion  of  the  laws. 
Bat  fouls  ferene,  where  wifdom  dwells, 
And  fuperftitious  dread  expeljs, 
The  filent  majefty  of  night 
Excites  to  take  a  nobler  flight : 
With  faints  and  angels  to  explore 
The  wonders  of  creating  pow'r; 
And  lifts  on  contemplation's  wings 
Above  the  fphere  of  mortal  things  : 
Walk  forth  and  tread  thofe  dewy  plains 
Where  night  in  awful  filence  reigns; 
The  (ky's  ferene,  the  air  is  ftill, 
The  woods  ftand  lift'ning  on  each  hill, 
To  catch  the  founds  that  fink  and  fweil 
Wide-floating  from  the  ev'ning'fiell, 
While  foxes  howl  and  beetles  hum, 
Sounds  which  make  filence  ftill  more  dumb : 
And  try  if  folly  rafla  and  rude 
Dares  on  the  facred  hour  intrude. 
Then  turn  your  eyes  to  heav'n's  broad  frame, 
..Attempt  to  quote  thofe  lights  byname, 
Which  fhine  ib  thick  and  fpread  fo  far  } 
Conceive  a  fun  in  every  ftar, 
Round  which  unnumber'd  planets  roll, 
While  comets  flioot  athwart  the  whole. 
From  lyfteni  ftill  to  fyftem  ranging, 
Their  various  benefits  exchanging, 
And  making  from  their  flaming  hair 
The  things  moft  needed  every  where. 
Explore  this  glorious  fcene,  and  fay 
That  night  difcovers  lefs  than  day  ; 
That  'tis  quite  ufelefs,  and  a  fign 
That  chance  difpofes,  not  defign  : 
Whoe'er  maintains  it,  I'll  pronounce 
Him  either  mad  or  elle  a  dunce. 
For  reafon,  though  'tis  far  from  ftrong, 
Will  Coon  find  ont  that  nothing's  wrong, 
From  iigns  and  evidences  clear, 
wife  contrivance  every  where. 


The  hermit  ended ;  and  the  youth 
Became  a  convert  to  the  truth ; 
At  leaft  he  yielded,  and  confeft 
That  all  was  order'd  for  the  beft. 

FABLE  XIII. 

PHOEBUS  AND  THE  SHEPHERD. 

I  CANNOT  think  but  more  or  lefs 

True  merit  always  gains  fuccefs; 

That  envy,  prejudice,  and  fpite, 

Will  never  fink  a  genius  quite. 

Experience  (hows  beyond  a  doubt, 

That  worth,  though  clouded,  will  fhine  out. 

The  fecond  name  for  epic  fong, 

Firft  clafilc  of  the  Enghm  tongue. 

Great  Milton,  when  he  firft  appear'd, 

Was  ill  receiv'd  and  coldly  heard  : 

In  vain  did  faction  damn  thofe  lays, 

Which  all  pofterity  fliall  praife  : 

Is  Dryden  or  his  works  forgot) 

For  all  that  Buckingham  has  wrote  ? 

The  peer's  (harp  fatire,  charg'd  with  fen/e, 

Give's  pleafure  at  no  one's  expence : 

The  bard  and  critic  bpth  infpir'd 

By  Phcebus,  ftiall  be  ftill  admir'd : 

'Tis  true  that  cenfure,  right  or  wrong, 

May  hurt  at  firft  the  nobleft  fong, 

And  for  a  while  defeat  {he  claim 

Which  any  writer  has  to,  fame  : 

A  mere  book-merchant  with  his  tools 

Can  fway  with  eafe  the  herd  of  fools : 

Who  on  a  moderate  computation 

Are  ten  to  one  in  every  nation — 

Your  ftyle  is  ftifT— -your  periods  halt--- 

In  every  line  appears  a  fault — 

The  plot  and  incidents  ill-forted — 

No  fingle  character  fupported--i- 

Your  Cmiles  will  fcarce  apply  ; 

The  whole  misfliapen,  dark,  and  dry. 

All  this  will  pafs,  and  gain  its  end 

On  the  beft  poem  e'er  was  penn'd: 

But  when  the  firft  affaults  are  o'er, 

When  fops  and  witlings  prate  no  more, 

And  wh<-n  your  works  are  quite  forgot 

By  all  who  praife  or  blame  by  rote: 

Without  felfrintereft,  fpleen,  or  hate, 

The  men  of  fenfe  decide  your  fate  : 

Their  judgment  ftands,  and  what  they  fay 

Gains  greater  credit  ev'ry  day  } 

Till  groundltfs  prejudices  paft, 

True  merit  has  its  due  at  laft. 

The  hackney  fcribblersof  the  town. 

Who  were  the  firft  to  write  you  down* 

Their  malice  chang'd  to  admiration, 

Promote  your  growing  reputation, 

And  to  excefs  of  praife  proceed  ; 

But  this  fcarce  happens  till  you're  dead, 

When  fame  for  genius,  wit,  and  IkiU, 

Can  do  you  neither  good  nor  ill ; 

Yet,  if  you  wquld  not  be  forgot, 

They'll  help  to  keep  your  name  afloat. 

An  aged  fwain  that  us'd^to  feed 
His  flock  upon  a  mountain's  head, 
Drew  crowds  of  fliepherds  from  each  hill, 
To  hear  and  profit  by  his  (kill; 
For  ev'ry  fimple  of  the  rock, 
That  can  offend  or  cure  a  flock, 
Eij 


65 


THE   WORKS    OF  WILKIE. 


He  ub'd  to  mark,  and  knew  its  pow'r 

In  ftem  and  foliage,  root  and  flow'r. 

Befide  all  this,  he  could  foretel 

Both  rain  and  funfhine  paffing  well ; 

By  deep  fagacity  he'd  find, 

The  future  ihiftings  of  the  wind; 

And  guefs  molt  flirewdfy  ev'ry  year 

If  mutton  would  be  cheap  or  dear. 

To  tell  his  fkill  in  ev'ry  art, 

Of  which  he  underftootl  a  part, 

Hisfage  advice  was  wrapt  in  tales, 

Which  oft  perfuade  when  reafoti  fails ; 

To  do  him  juftice  every  where, 

Would  take  more  time  than  I  can  fpare, 

And  therefore  now  lhall  only  touch 

Upon  a  fact  which  authors  vouch  ; 

That  Phoebus  oft  would  condefcend 

Te  treat  this  fliephcrd  like  a  friend  : 

Oft  when  the  folar  chariot  paft, 

Provided  he  was  not  in  hzlte, 

He'd  leave  liis  deeds  to  take  frefh  breath> 

And  crop  the  herbage  of  the  he.-.'h  ; 

While  with  the  {'wain  a  turn  or  two 

He'd  take,  as  landlords  ul'e  to  do, 

When  nek  of  finer  folks  in  town, 

They  find  amulement  in  a  clown- 

One  morning  when  the  god  alighted, 

His  winged  {reeds  look'd  wild  and  frighted  ; 

The  whip  it  feems  had  not  been  idle, 

Qne's  traces  broke,  another's  bridle  : 

A!l  four  were  fwitch'd  in  every  patt, 

Like  common  jadts  that  draw  a  cart, 

Whofe  fides  and  haunches  all  -along 

Show  the juft  meafure  of  the  thong. 

Why,  what's  the  matter,  quoth  the  fwain, 
My  lord,  itffivesycur  fervant  pain: 
Sure  fome  oftVnce  is  in  the  cafe, 
I  read  it  plainly  in  your  face.— 

Offence,  quoth  Phoebus,  vex'd  amd  heated  ; 
'Tis  one  indeed-  aixl  eft  repeated  :  , 

Since  tirft  I  drove  through  hea.'*n's  high-way, 
That's  before  yelterday,  you'll  fay, 
The  envious  clouds  in  league  with  night 
Confpire  to  intercept  my  light; 
Rank  vapours  Sjreath'd  from  putrid  lakes, 
The  ftearns  of  common  few'rs  and  Jakes, 
Which  under  ground  fliould  be  ccrifi-.i'd, 
Nor  fufiei'd  to  pollute  the  wind  ; 
Efcap'd  in  air  by  various  ways, 
Extinguish  or  divert  my  rays. 
Oft  in  the  morning,  when  my  deeds 
Above  the  ccean  lift  their  he;.ds, 
And  when  I  hope  to  fee  my  beams  , 
Far  glittering  on  the  woods  aiul  ftreams  ; 
A  ridge  of  lazy  clouds  that  (Itep 
Upon  the  furface  of  the  dtep, 
Receive  at  once,  and  wrap  me  round 
In  fogs  extirignifh'd  half  and  drown'd. 
But  mark  my  purpofe,  and  by  Styx 
I'm  not  foon  alter'd  when  I  fix ; 
If  things  are  fuffer'd  at  this  pais, 
'  I'll  fairly  turn  my  nags  to  grals  :          ' 
No  more  this  idle  round  I'll  dance, 
But  let  all  nature  take  its  chance. 

If,  quoth  the  fhepherd,  it  were  fit 
To  argue  with  the  god  of  wit, 
I  conlcl  a  circumftance  fuggeft 
That  would  alleviate  things  at  leaft. 


That  clouds  oppofe  your  riving  light 

Full  oft,  and  lengthen  out  the  night, 

Is  plain  ;  but  foon  they  difappear, 

And  leave  the  iky  ferene  and  clear  ; 

We  ne'er  expect  a  finer  day, 

Than  when  the  morning  has  been  gray ; 

Bt ficlcs,  thole  vapours  which  confine 

You  iffuing  from  your  eaftern  fhrine, 

By  heat  fublim'd,  and  thinly  fpread, 

Streak  all  the  e\'ning  fky  with  red: 

And  when  your  radiant  orb  in  vain 

Would  glow  beneath  the  weftern  main, 

And  not  a  ray  could  reach  our  eyes, 

Unlefs  reflected  from  the  Ikies, 

Thofe  wat'ry  mirrors  fend  your  light 

In  ftreams  amidft  the  (hades  of  night : 

Thus  length'ning  out  your  reign  much, more 

Than  they  had  fhorten'd  it  before. 

As  this  is  fo,  I  muft  maintain 

You've  little  reafon  to  complain: 

For  when  the  matter's  underftood, 

The  ill  fcenes  balanc'd  by  the  good ; 

The  only  dift'rehce  in  the  cafe 

Is  that  the  mifchief  nrft  takes  place, 

The  compenfation  when  you're  gone 

Is  rather  fomewhat  late,  I  own  : 

But  fince  'tis  fo,  you'll  own  'tis  fit 

To  make  the  be  ft  on't,  and  fubrhit.          • 


FABLE  XIV. 

THE    BREEZE    AND.  THE    TEMPEST, 

THAT  nation  boafts  a  happy  fate, 
Whofe  prince  is  good,  as  well  as  great ; 
Calm  peace  at  home  with  plenty  reigns, 
The  law  its  proper  courfe  obtains ; 
Abroad  the  public  is  refpecled, 
And  all  its  im'refts  are  protected  : 
But  when  his'genius,  weak  or  ftrong, 
Is  by  ambition  pointed  wrong, 
When  private  greatnefs  has  poflefs'd, 
In  place  of  public  gocd,  hisbreaft, 
'Tis  certain,  and  I'll  prove  it  true, 
That  ev'ry  mifchief  muft  enfue. 
On  forne  pretence  a  war  is  made, 
The  citizen  muft  change  his  trade  ; 
His  fteers  the  husbandman  unyokes 
The  fliepherd  too  muft  quit  his  flocks, 
His>  harmlefs  life  ?.nd  honeft  gain, 
To  rob,  to  murder,  and  be  (lain  : 
The  fields,  once  fruitful,  yield  no  more 
Their  yearly  produce  as  before  : 
Each  ufeful  plant  neglecled  dies, 
While  idle  weeds  licentious  rile 
Unnumber'd,  to  ufisrp  the  land 
Where  yellow  harvefts  us'd  to  {land. 
Lean  famine  foon  in  ccuri'e  fucceeds; 
iJifenfes  follow  as  flie  leads. 
No  intant  bands  at  clofe  of  day 
In  ev'ry  village,  fport  and  play. 
The  ftreetsare  throng'd  with  orphans  dying- 
For  want  of  bread,  and  widows  crying  ; 
Fierce  rapine  walks  abroad  uncham'd, 
By  civil  order  not  reftrain'd  : 
Without  regard  to  right  and  wrong, 
The  weak  are  injur'd  by  the  ftrong. 


FABLES. 


The  hungry  mouth  but  rarely  taftes 
The  fatt'uing  food  which  riot  waftes ; 
All  ties  of  confcicncc  lofe  their  force, 
Ev'n  facred  oaths  grow  words  of  courfe. 
By  what  ftrange  caufe  are  kings  inclin'd 
To  heap  fuch  mifchief  on  mankind  ? 
What  pow'rful  arguments  controul 
The  native  dictates  of  the  foul  ? 
The  love  of  glory  and  a  name 
Loud-founded  by  the  trump  of  fame  : 
Nor  fhall  they  mifs  their  end,  unlcfs 
Their  guilty  projects  want  fuccefs. 
Let  one  poffefs'd  of  fov'reign  fway 
Invade,  and  murder,  and  betray, 
Let  war  and  rapine  fierce  be  hurl'd 
Through  half  the  nations  of  the  world  ; 
And  prove  fuccefsful  in  a  courfe 
Of  bad  defigns,  and  actions  worfe,    . 
At  once  a  demigod  he  grows, 
And  incens'd  both  in  verfe  and  profe, 
Becomes  the  idol  of  mankind ; 
Though  to  what's  good  he's  weak  and  blind : 
Approv'd,  applauded,  and  refpected, 
While  bettt-r  rulers  are  neglected. 
Where  Shott's  airy  tops  divide 
Tarr  Lothian  from  the  vale  of  Clyde, 
A  t'empeft  from  the  eaft  and  north 
I?  aught  with  the  vapours  of  the  Forth, 
In  pailing  to  the  Iriilv  feas, 
Once  chanc'd  to  meet  the  weftern  breeze. 
'The  tempeft  hail'd  him  with  a  roar, 
"  Make  hafte  and  clear  the  way  before  ; 
No  paltry  .zephyr  muft  pretend 
To  ftand  before  me,  or  contend : 
'Begone,  or  in  a  whirlwind  toft 
Tour  weak  exiftence  will  be  loft." 

The  tempeft  thus: — The  breeze  reply'd 
"  If  both  our  merits  fhould  be  try'd, 
Impartial  juftice  would  decree 
'1  hat  you  fhould  yield  the  way  to  me.*' 

At  this  the  tempeft  rav'd  and  ftorm'd, 
Grew  black  and  ten  times  more  deform'd. 
What  qualities,  quoth  he,  of  thine, 
Vain  flatt'ring  wind,  can  equal  mine  ? 
JB.re£:th'd  from  fome  river,  lake  or  bog, 
Your  rile  at  firft  is  in  a  fog; 
And  creeping  flow-ly  o'er  the  meads 
•Scarce  flir  the  willows  or  the  reeds; 
While  thofe  that  feel  you  hardly  know 
The  certain  point  from  which  you  blow. 
From  earth's  deep  womb,  the  child  of  fire, 
»  Fierce,  active,  vigorous,  like  my  fire, 
I  rufti  to  light ;  the  mountains  quake 
1  With  dread,  and  all  their  forefts  fhake  . 
Tii   .j;lobe  itfeif  convuls'd  and  torn, 
I'ce.s  pangs  unulual  when  1'ra  borr  : 
Now  free  in  air  with  fov'reign  Iway, 
1  rule,  and  all  the  clouds  obey : 
From  eaft  to  weft  my  pow'r  extends, 
Where  day  begins,  and  where  it  ends  : 
And  from  Bootes  downwards  far, 
Athwart  the  track  of  ev'ry  ftar. 
Through  me  the  polar  deep  difdains 
To  fleep  in  winter's  frofty  chains ; 
But  rous'd  to  rage  indignant  heaves 
Huge  rocks  of  ice  upo»  its  waves ; 


While  dread  tornados  lift  on  high 

The  broad  Atlantic  to  the  Iky. 

I  rule  the  elemental  roar, 

And  llrew  with  fhipwrtcks  ev'ry  fhorc : 

Nor  lefs  at  land  my  po\v'r  is  known 

From  Zembia  to  the  burning  zone. 

I  bring  Tartarian  frofts  to  kill 

The  bloom  of  fummer ;  when  I  will 

Wide  defolation  doth  appear 

To  mingle  and  confound  the  year: 

From  cloudy  Atlas  wrapt  in  night, 

On  Barka's  fultry  plains  I  light, 

And  make  at  once  the  defert  rife 

In  dufty  whirlwinds  to  the  flcics ; 

In  vain  the  traveller  turns  his  fteed, 

And  fhvns  me  with  hisutmoft  fpeed ; 

I  overtake  him  as  he  flies, 

O'erblown  he  flrnggles,  pants,  and  dies. 

Where  fome  proud  city  lifts  in  air 

Its  fpires,  I  make  a  defart  bare ; 

And  when  I  choofe,  for  paftimes  fake, 

Can  with  a  mountain  fhift  a  lake ; 

The  Nile  himfelf,  at  my  command. 

Oft  hides  his  head  beneath  the  fand, 

And  'midft  dry  defarts  blown  and  toft, 

For  many  a  fultry  league  is  loft 

All  this  I  do  with  perfect  cafe, 

And  can  repeat  whene'er  I  pleafe  : 

What  merit  makes  you  then  pretend 

With  me  to  argue  and  contend, 

When  all  you  boaft  of  force  or  flcill 

Is  fcarce  enough  to  turn  a  mill, 

Or  help,  the  fwain  tp  clear  his  corn, 

The  L Tvile  tafks  for  which  you're  born  ? 

Sir,  quoth  the  breeze,  if  force  alone 
Muft  pafs  for  merit,  I  have  none ; 
At  lc-a.il  I'll  readily  confefs 
That  your's  is  greater,  mine  is  lefs. 
But  merit  rightly  underftood 
Confifts  alone  in  doing  good ; 
And  therefore  you  yourfelf  muft  fee 
That  preference  is  due  to  me  -. 
I  cannot  boaft  to  rule  ths  fkies 
Like  you,  and  make  the  ocean  rife, 
Nor  e'er  with  fhipwreck's  drew  the  fhorr. 
For  wives  and  orphans  to  deplore. 
Mine  is  the  happier  talk,  to  pleafe 
The  mariner,  and  fmooth  the  lca», 
And  waft  him  fafe  from  foreign  harms 
To  blefs  his  confort's  longing  arms. 
With  you  I  boaft  not  to  coniound 
The  feafons  in  their  annual  round, 
And  mar  that  harmony  in  nature 
That  comforts  ev'ry  living  creature. 
But  oft  from  warmer  climes  I  bring 
Soft  airs  to  introduce  the  fpriug; 
With  genial  heat  unlock  the  foil, 
And  urge  the 'ploughman  to  his  toil : 
I  bid  the  op'ning-biboms  unfold 
Their  ftreaks  of  purple,  blue,  and  gold, 
And  waft  their  fragrance  to 'impart 
That  new  delight  to  ev'ry  heart, 
Which  makes  the  fhepherd  all  day  long 
To  carol  fweet  his  vernal  fong  : 
The  fummer's  fultry  heat  to  cool, 
From  ev'ry  river,  lake  and  pool, 
F.  iii 


THE   WORKS  OF  WILKIE; 


I  Ikim  frefh  airs;     The  tawny  fwain, 
Who  turns  at  noon  the  furrow'd  plain, 
Kefrefh'd  and  trufting  in  my  aid, 
His  talk  purfues  and  fcorns  the  fhade  : 
And  ev'n  on  Afrie's  fultry  coaft, 
"Where  fuch  immenfe  exploits  you  boaft, 
1  blow  to  cool  the  panting  flocks 
'Midft  defarfs  brown  and  fun-burnt  rocks* 
And  health  and  vigour  oft  fupply 
To  fuch  as  languifli,  faint  and  die : 
Thofe  humbler  offices  you  nam'd, 
To  own  I'll  never  be  afham'd, 
With  twenty  others  that  conduce 
To  public  good  or  private  ufe, 
The  meaneft  of  them  far  outweighs 
The  whole  amount  of  all  your  praife  ; 
Jf  to  give  happinefs  and  joy, 
Excels  the  talent  to  deftroy. 

Thetempeft,  that  till  now  had  lent 
Attention  to  the  argument, 
Again  began  (his  patience  loft) 
To  rage,  to  threaten,  huff  and  boaft : 
Since  reafons  fail'd,  refolv'd  in  courfe 
The  queftion  to  decide  by  force, 
And  his  weak  oppofite  to  brave— 
The  breeze  retreated  to  a  cave 
To  flielter,  till  the  raging  blaft 
Had  fpent  its  fury  and  was  paft, 

FABLE     XV. 

THE  CROW  AND  THE  OTHER  BIRDS. 
Containing  an  vfeful  bint  to  ibe  Critics. 

IN  ancient  times,  tradition  fays, 

When  birds  like  men  would  ftrive  for  praife  j 

The  bulfinch,  nightingale,  and  thrufh, 

With  all  that  6hant  from  tree  or  bufli, 

Would  often  meet  in  fong  to  vie  ; 

The  kinds  that  fing  not,  fitting  by. 

A  knaviih  crow,  it  feems,  had  got 

The  nack  to  criticife  by  rote  : 

He  underftood  each  karned  phrafe, 

As  well  as  critics  riow-a-days : 

Some  fay,  he  learn' d  them  from  an  owl, 

By  lift'ning  where  he  taught  a  fchool. 

'Tis  ftrange  to  tell,  this  fubtle  creature, 

Though  nothing  mufical  by  nature, 

Had  learn'd  fo  well  to  play  his  part, 

With  nonfenfe  couch'd  in  terms  of  art, 

As  to  be  own'd  by  all  at  laft 

Director  of  the  public  tafte. 

Then  puff'd  with  infolence  and  pride, 

And  fure  of  numbers  on  his  fide, 

Each  fong  he  freely  criticis'd  ; 

"What  he  approv'd  not,  was  defpis'd : 

But  onefalfe  ftep  in  evil  hour 

Tor  ever  ftiipt  him  of  his  pow'r. 

Once  when  the  birds  affembled  fat, 

All  lift'ning  to  his  formal  chat ; 

By  inftinct  nice  he  chanc'd  to  find 

A  cloud  approaching  in  the  wind, 

And  ravens  hardly  can  refrain 

From  croaking'  when  they  think  of  rain ; 

His  wonted  f«ng  he  fung :  the  blunder 

Amaz'd  and  fcar'd  them  worfe  than  thunder ; 


For  no  one  thought  fo  harfli  a  note* 
Could  ever  found  from  any  throat : 
They  all  at  firft  with  mute  furprife 
Each  on  his  neighbour  turn'd  his  eyes: 
But  fcorn  fucceeding  foon  took  place, 
And  might  be  read  in  ev'ry  face. 
All  this  the  raven  faw  with  pain, 
And  ftrove  his  credit  to  regain. 

Quoth  he,  The  folo  which  ye  heard 
In  public  ftiould  not  have  appcar'd : 
The  trifle  of  an  idle  hour, 
To  pleafe  my  miftrefs  once  when  four : 
My  voice,  that's  fomewhat  rough  and  ftrong, 
Might  chance  the  melody  to  wrong, 
But,  try'd  by  rules,  you'll  find  the  grounds 
Moft  perfect  and  harmonious  fonnds. 
He  reafon'd  thus ;  but  to  his  trouble, 
At  every  word  the  laugh  grew  double  : 
At  laft  o'ercome  with  mame  and  fpite, 
He  flew  away  quite  out  of  fight. 

FABLE  XVI. 

THE    HARE    AND    THE    FARTAN  («). 

THE  chief  defign  of  this  fable  is  to  give  a  true 
fpecimen  of  the  Scotch  dialect,  where  it  may 
be  fuppofed  to  be  moft  perfect,  namely,  in 
Mid-Lothian,  the  feat  of  the  capital.  The 
ftyle  is  precifely  that  of  the  vulgar  Scotch ; 
and  that  the  mattter  might  be  fuitable  to  it, 
I  chofe  for  the  fubject  a  little  ftory  adapted 
to  the  ideas  of  peafants.  It  is  a  tale  com 
monly  told  in  Scotland  among  the  country 
people  ;  and  may  be  looked  upon  as  of  the  kind 
of  thofe  Anilcs  Fabellttj  in  which  Horace  ob- 
ferves  his  country  neighbours  were  accuftomed" 
to  convey  their  ruftic  philofophy. 

A  CANNY  man  (l>)  willfcarce  provoke 

Ae  (c)  creature  livin,  for  a  joke ; 

For  be  they  weak  or  be  they  ftrang  (d] 

A  jibe  (e)  leaves  after  it  a  ftang  (7) 

To  mak  them  think  on't ;  and  a  laird  (^) 

May  find  a  beggar  fae  prepair'd, 

Wi  pawks  (Z>)  and  wiles,  whar  pith  (/')  is  wantia, 

As  foon  will  mak  him  rue  his  tauntin. 

Ye  hae  my  moral,  if  am  able 
All  fit  it  nicely  vu  a  fable. 


(a)   A  crab. 

(b~)  A  canny  manjignifia  nearly  the  fame  thing  as  € 
prudent  man  :  but  it:ben  tlu  Scotch  fay  that  a  perfun  is 
not  canny,  they  mean  not  tbat  they  are  imprudent^  but 
mifchie'uout  and  dangerous.  If  the  term  not  canny  ii 
applied  to  perfons  -without  being  explained,  it  (barges 
tbtm  ivitbforccry  and  loiiitcraft. 

()   One. 

(d)  The  Scotch  altuays  turn  O  in  the  fyllable  ong, 
'nto  a.  In  place  of  long,  they  fay  lang;  in  place  of  tongs, 
tangs ,  a)  here  ftrang ,  for  itrong. 

(e)  Afatiricaljefl. 

(/)    StiMg. 

(g~)  A  gentleman  of  an  ejlatt  inland, 

(I/)  Stratagems. 

(i)-Stroytlr. 


FABLES; 


A  hare,  ac  morning,  chanc'd  to  fee 
A  partan  crecpin  on  a  lee  (/f), 
A  fifluvife  (/)  wha  was  early  oot 
Had  drapt  (m)  the  creature  thereaboot. 
Mawkin  (n]  bumbas'd  (o)  and  frighted  fair  (f) 
To  fee  a  thing  but  hide  and  hair  (y), 
Which  if  it  ftur'd  not  might  be  ta'en  (»•) 
For  naething  ither  than  a  ftane  (t), 
A.  fquunt-vvife  (t)  wambling  (a),  fair  befet 
Wi  gerfe  and  rafhes  (71-)  like  a  net, 
Firft  thought  to  rin  (x)  for't ;  for  bi  kind 
A  hare's  nae  fetcher  (y),  ye  maim  mind  (z). 
But  feeing  that  wi  (a)  aw  its  ftrength 
It  fcarce  couW  creep  a  tether  length  (£), 
The  hare  grew  baulder  (,:)  and  cam  near, 
Tum'd  playfome,  and  forgat  her  fear. 
Quoth  Mawkin,  Was  there  ere  in  nature 
Sae  fecklefs  (</)  and  fae  poor  a  creature  ? 
It  fcarccly  kens  (e),  or  am  miftaen 
The  way  to  gang  (/)  or  ftand  its  lane  (g). 

(I)   -A  piece  of  ground  let  run  into  graft  for  fa/lure. 

(/)  A  woman  that  fells  Jijh.  It  is  to  be  obfer-ved, 
tlat  the  Scotch  always  ufe  the  word  wife  -where  ibe 
£nglijb  would  ufe  the  word  woman. 

(m)   Draft. 

(n)  A  cant  name  for  a  Hare,  Hie  flat  of  Reynard 
for  a  fox,  or  Grimalkin  for  a  Cat,  Is'c. 

(o)  Ajlonifid. 

(/>)  Sore.  I  Jball  obferve,  once  for  all,  that  the 
Scotch  avoid  the  vmvels  O  and  u  ;  and  have  in  in 
numerable  injlances  fapplied  their  places  luitb  a  and 
«,  or  diphthongs  in  which  thefe  letteti  are  predomi 
nant. 

(y)   Without  bide  and  hair. 

(r)   Taken. 

(s)   Nothing  other  than  ajlont. 

(/)    Obliquely  or  aftjuat. 

(u)  A  feeble  motion  like  that  of  a  -worm  or  fct- 
fent. 

(iv)  Grafs  and  rufces.  Tie  vowel  e  tobict>  comes 
in  place  of  Z,  is  by  a  met  at  he/is  put  between  the  cenfo- 
fiants  g  and  r,  tofoften  the  found. 

(x)   Run. 

(y)  Fighter. 

(z)  You  muft  remember. 

(a)   With  ill. 

(b}  Tie  Itngtb  of  a  rope  vfed  to  confine  cattle  -wlen 
they  pajlure,  to  a- f  articular  fpot. 

(c}  BoUtr. 

(J)  Fettle.  Fcckhl  and  feMefsJigni/y /rang  and 
•weak,  1  fuppofe  frem  the  -verb  to  effect. 

(e)   Ktwivs,  or  I  am  in  a  mijlake. 

(/)   Go- 

(  w)  Alone ,  »r  wiiiout  affijltnit. 


See  how  it  fteitters  (i) ;  all  be'bund  (i) 

To  rin  a  mile  of  up-hill  grund 

Before  it  gets  a  rig-braid  frae  (*) 

The  place  its  in,  though  doon  the  brae  (?). 

Mawkin  wi  this  began  to  frift, 
And  thinkin  (m)  there  was  little  rifk, 
Clapt  baith  her  feet  on  Parian's  back, 
And  turn'd  him  awald  (n)  in  a  crack. 
To  fee  the  creature  fprawl,  her  fport 
Grew  twice  as  good,  yet  prov'd  but  Ihort, 
For  parting  wi  her  fit  (o),  in  play, 
Juft  whaf  the  partan's  nippers  lay, 
He  gript  it  faft,  which  made  her  fqueel, 
And  think  ftie  bourded  (/>)  wi  the  deH. 
She  ftrave  to  rin,  and  made  a  fittle  : 
The  tither  catch'd  a  tough  bur  thriftk  (q} ; 
Which  held  them  baith,  till  e'er  a  dyke 
A  herd  cam  {lending  (r)  wi  his  tyke  (t), 
And  fell'd  poor  mawkin,  fairly  rut-in, 
Whan  forc'd  to  drink  of  her  ain  bfcwin  (<). 


(£)   Walts  in  a  ivealJiumUirtf  way. 

(/')   /  will  be  bound. 

(i)  The  breadth  of  a  ridge  from.  In  Scotland  about 
four  fathoms. 

(I)  An  af:etit  er  dff^ent.  It  it  worth  obfervafr 
tbat  the  Scotch  when  tb/y  mention  a  rifing  rrountt 
•with  refpefi  to  the  whole  of  it,  tbej  tall  it  a  knau, 
iffmall,  aW»hill,  if  great ;  but  if  they  reffefl  tnlj 
one  fide  of  either,  they  call  it  a  brae,  -which  it  probably 
a  corruption  of  the  Engltjb  ivord  brow,  according  to  tb* 
analogy  I  mentioned  before. 

(m )  Thinking.  When  polyfyllables  terminate  in  ing,' 
tie  Scotth  almoji  always  ne^lttt  the  g,  which  f of  tens  the 
foiiuS. 

(«)  '  Topfy-turvy. 

(a)  Foot. 

(/)  To  bourd  tuitb  any  ftrfoa  it  to  attack  Lim  in. 
the  ivay  ofjejl. 

(?)  Tbijllc.  The  Scotch,  though  tbey  commonly  af- 
fell  joft  founds,  and  throw  out  confonants  end  talc  W 
vm-rls,  in  order  to  obtain  them,  yet  in  fame  cafes,  of 
•which  this  is  an  example,  they  Jo  'the  very  revtrfe  ;  tnd 
bring  in  fuperfiuous  eafifonants  to  roughen  the  found, 
when  fucb  founds  are  min  agreeable  to  the  rovgb^fs  tf 
the  thing  .reprefented. 

(r)  Leaping. 

(0  Dos-  •  ... 

(»)  Jiretving.     "   To  drink  of  one  s  own  brewing, 
is  a  proverbial  exprcJKon,  for  Differing  the  e/efts  of 
one's  *wn   n,ifeo»Juci.      The   Engl,Jb  fuy,  «  At  tt<y 
bake,  h  let  thi*  brew" 


THE   WO11KS   OF   WILKIE. 


A      DIALOGUE. 

THE  AUTHOR  AND  A  FRIEND. 


HERE  take  your  papers. — Have  you  Ibok'd  thcni 
Yes,  half  a  dozen  times,  I  think,  or  more.    £  o'er  ? 
And  will  they  pafs  ?— They'll  ferve  but  fora  dajr ; 
Few  books  can  now  do  more  :  You  know  the  way; 
A  trifle's  puff'd  till  one  edition's  fold, 
In  half  a  week  at  mod  a  book  grows  old. 
The  penny  turn'd's  thd  only  point  in  view ; 
So  ev'ry  thing  will  pafs  if  'tis  but  new. — 

By  what  you  fay  I  eafity  can  guefs 
You  rank  me  with  the  drudges  for  the  prefs ; 
Who  from  their  garrets  fliow'r  Pindarics  down, 
Or  plaintive  elegies  to  lull  the  town. 

You  take  me  wrong  :•  I  only  meant  to  fay; 
That  cv'ry  book  that's  new  will  have  its  day ; 
The  beft  no  more  :  for  books  are  feldom  read  : 
The  world's  grown  dull, -and  publifhing  a  trade. 
Were  this  not  fa,  could  Offian's  deathkfs  ftrains, 
Of  high  heroic  times  the  fole  remain^ 
Strains  which  difplay  'perfections  to-  our  view, 
Which  poliih'd  Greece  and  Italy  ne'er  knew, 
With  modern  epics  fhare  one  common  lot, 
This  day  applauded,  and  the  next  forgot  ? 
•  Enough  of  this;  to  put  the  queftion  phin, 
Will  men  of  fenfe  and  tafte  approve  my  {train  ? 
Will  my  old-fafhion'd  fenfe  and  comic  eafe 
With  better  judges  have  a  chance  to  plcafe  ? 

The  queftion' s  plain,  but  hard  to  be  refoltf'd ; 
One  little  lefs  important  can  be  folv'd : 
The  men  of  fenfe  and  tafte  believe  it  true, 
Will  ne'er  to  living  authors  give  their  due. 
They're  candidates  lor  fame  in  diff'ient  ways; 
One  writes  romances,  and  another  plays, 
A  third  prefcribes  you  rules  for  writing  well, 
Yet  burfts  with  envy  if  you  fhould  e»cel. 
Through  all  fame's  walks,  the  college   and    the 

court, 

The  field  of  combat  ard  the  field  of  fport ; 
/The  ftage,  the  pulpit,  fenate-houfe  and  bar, 
Merit  with  merit  lives  at  conftant  war. 

All  who  can  judge,  affect  not  public  fame; 
Of  thofe  that  do  the  paths  are  .not  the  fame  : 
A  grave  hiftorian  hardly  needs  to  fear 
The  rival  glory  of  a  fonnetecr : 
The  deep  philofopher  who  turns  mankind 
Quite  infide  outwards,  and  diffects  the  mind, 
Would  look  but  whimfical  and  flrangely  out, 
To  grudge  fome  quack  his  treatife  on  the  gout. — 
Hold,  hold,   my  friend,  all  this  I  know,  and 

more ; 

An  ancient  bard  *  has  told  us  long  before  ; 
And  by  examples  eafily  decided, 
That  folks  of  the  fame  trades  are  moft  divided. 
But  folks  of  diff'rent  trades  that  hunt  for  fame, 
Are  conftant  rivals,  and  their  ends  the  fame : 

*   Hefnd. 


It  needs  no  proof,  you'll  readily  confefs, 

That  merit  envies  merit  more  or  lefs  x 

The  paffion  rules  alike  in  thofe  who  fhare 

Of  public  reputation,  or  defpair. 

Varrus  has  knowledge,  humour,  tafte  and  fenfe, 

Could  purchafe  laurels  at  a  fmall  expence  ; 

But  wife  and  leam'd,  and  eloquent  in  vain, 

He  fleeps  at  eafe  in  pleaftrre's  tilken  chain  : 

Will  Varrus  help  'you  to  the  mufe's  crown, 

Which,  but  for  indolence  might  be  his  own  ? 

Timon  with  art  and  induftry  afpires 

To  fame  ;  the  world  applauds  him,  and  admires : 

Timon  has  fenfe,  and  will  not  blame  a  line 

He  knows  is  good,  from  envy  or  defign  : 

Some  general  praife  he'll  carelefsly  exprefs, 

Which  juft  amounts  to  none,  and  fometimes  lefs  : 

But  if  his  penetrating  fenfe  fhould  fpy 

Such  beauties  as  efcape  a  vulgar  eye, 

So  finely  couch'd,  their  value  to  enhance, 

That  all  are  pleased,  yet  think  they're  pleas'd  by 

chance ; 

Rather  than  blab  fuch  fecrets  to  the  throng, 
He'd  lofe  a  finger,  or  bite  off  his  tongue. 
Narciffus  is  a  beau,  but  not  ah  afs, 
He  likes  your  works,  but  moft  his  looking-glafs ; 
Wiil  he  to  ferve  you  quit  his  favourite  care, 
1'urn  a  book-pedant  and  offend  the  fair  ? 
Clcliii  to  tafte  and  judgment  may  pretend 
She  will  not  blame  your  verfe,  nor  dares  com 
mend  : 

A  modeft  virgin  always  fhuns  difpute  ; 
Soft  Strephon  likes  you  not,  and  fhe  is  mute. 
Stern  Ariftarchus,  who  expects  renown 
From  ancient  merit  rais'd,  and  new  knock'd  down, 
For  faults  in  every  fy liable  will  pry, 
Whate'er  he  finds  is  good  he'll  pafs  it  by. 

Hold,  hold,  enough!  All  aft  from  private  ends; 
Authors  and  wits  were  ever  flipp'ry  friends : 
But  fay,  will  vulgar  readers  like  my  lays? 
When  fuch  approve  a  work,  they  always  praife. 

To  fpeak  my  fentiments,  your  talcs  I  fear 
Are  but  ill  fuited  to  a  vulgar  ear. 
Will  city  readers,  us'd  to  better  fport, 
The  politics  and  fcandals  of  a  court, 
Wellvouch'd  from  Grub-ftreet,on  ypur  pagespore, 
For  what  they  ne'er  can  know,  or  knew  before  ? 
Many  have  thought,  and  I  among  the  reft, 
That  fables  arc  but  ufelefs  things  at  beft  : 
Plain  words  without  a  metaphor  may  ferve 
To  tell  us  that  the  poor  muft  work  or  ftarve. 
We  need  no  ftories  of  a  cock  and  bull 
To  prove  that  gracelefs  icribblers  muft  be  dulL 
That  hope  deceives ;  that  never  to  excel, 
'Gainft  fpite  and  envy  is  the  only  fpell.— 
All  this,  without  an  emblem,  I  iuppofe 
Might  pafs  for  fterling  truth  in  verfe  or  profe.— • 


DIALOGUE. 


Sir,  take  a  feat,  my  anfwer  will  be  long  ; 

Yet  weigh  the  reafons  and  you'll  find  them  ftrong. 

At  firft  *  When  favage  men  in  queft  of  food, 

Like  lions,  wolves  aiid  tigers,  rang'd  the  wood, 

They  had  but  jull  what  fimple  nature  craves, 

Their  garments  (kins  of  bean's,  their  houles  caves. 

When  prey  abounded,  from  its  bleeding  dam 

Pity  would  fpare  akidling  or  a  lamb,' 

Which,  with    their   children,  nurs'd   and  fed   at 
home, 

Soon  grew  domeftic  and  forgot  to  roam  : 

From  fuch"  beginnings  flocks  and  herds  were  feen 

To  fpread  and  thicken  on  the  woodland  green : 

With  property,  injuftice  foon  began, 

And  they  that  prey'd  on  beads  now  prey'd  on  man. 

Communities  were  fram'd,  and  laws  to  bind 

In  focial  intercourle  the  human  kind. 

Thefe  things  were  new,  they  had  not  got  their 

names, 
And  right  and  wrong  were  yet  uncommon  themes: 

The  ruftic'fenator,  untaught  to  draw 

Conclufion  in  morality  or  law, 

Of  every  term  of  art  and  fcience  bare, 

Wanted  plain  words  his  fentence  to  declare  ; 
Much  more  at  length  to  manage  a  difpute, 
To  clear,  enforce,  illuftrate,  and  confute  ; 
Fable  was  then  found  out,  'tis  worth  your  heeding, 
And  anfwer'd  all  the  purpofes  of  pleading. 

It  won  the  head  with  unfufpeclied  art, 

And  touth'd  the   fecret   fprings  that  move   the 

heart : 

With  this  premised,  I  add,  that  men  delight 
To  have  their  firft  condition  (till  in  fight. 
Long  fince  the  fires  of  Brunfwick's  line  forfook 
The   hunter's   bow,  and   dropp'd  the  (hepherd's 

crook :      t 

Yet,  'midft  the  charms  of  royalty,  their  race 
Still  loves  the  foreft,  and  frequents  the  chafe. 
The  high-born  maid,  whofe  gay  apartments  fliine 
With  the  rich  produce  of  each  Indian  mine, 
Sighs  for  the  open  fields,  the  paft'ral  hook, 
To  deep  delightful  near  a  warbling  brook ; 
And  loves  to  read  the  ancient  tales  that  tell 
How  queens  themfelves  fetch'd  water  from  the 

well. 

If  this  is  true,  and  all  affect  the  ways 
Of  patriarchal  life  in  former  days, 
Fable  muft  pleafe  the  ftupid,  the  refin'd, 
Wifdom's  firft  drefs  to  court  the  op'ning  mind. 

You  reafon  well,  could  nature  hold  her  courfe, 
Where  vice  exerts  her  tyranny  by  force  : 
Are  natural  pleafures  fuited  to  a  tafte, 
Where  nature's  laws  are  alter'd  and  defac'd  ?. 
The  healthful  fwain  who  treads  the  dewy  mead, 
Enjoys  the  mufic  warbl'd  o'er  his  head  : 
Feels  gladnefs  at  his  heart  while  he  inhales 
The  fragrance  wafted  in  the  balmy  gales. 
Not  fo  Silenus  from  his  night's  debauch. 
Fatigu'd  and  fick,  he  looks  upon  his  watch 
With  rheumy  eyes  and  forehead  aching  fore, 
And  daggers  home  to  bed  to  belfli  and  fnore ; 

*  The  author /peaks  oftbofe  «nly,  tvho,  upon  the 
difpa-Jion  of  tnankind,fell  into  perfeft  barbarifm, 
and  emerged  from  it  again  in  the  way  'which  he 
defcribcs,  and  not  of  thofe  -who  bad  laws  and  aits 
from  the  beginning  by  divine  tradition. 


For  fuch  a  wretch  in  vain  the  morning  glows, 
For  him  in  vain  the  vernal  zephyr  blows: 
Grofs  pleafures  are  his  tafte,  his  lite  a  chain 
Of  feverifli  joys,  of  laflitude  and  pain. 
Truft  not  to  nature  in  fuch  times  as  thc-fe, 
When  all  is  off  the  hinge;  can  nature  pleafe  ? 
Difcard  all  ufelefs  fcruples,  be  not  nice ; 
Like  fome  folks  laugh  at  virtue,  flatter  vice, 
Boldly  attack  the  mitre  or  the  croU  ri  ; 
Reljigiqn  (hakes  already,  pufli  it  down  : 
Do  every  'thing  to    pleafe  ? — You    (hake    your 

head: 

Why  then  'tis  certain  that  you'll  ne'er  fucceed  : 
Difmifs  your  mufe,  and  take  your  full  repofe  ; 
What  none  will  read  'tis  ufelefs  to  compofe.— 

A  good  advice  1  to  follow  it  is  hard. — 
Quote  one  example,  name  me  but  a  bard 
Who  ever  hop'd  Parnaflus'  heights  to  climb, 
That  dropp'd  his  mufe,  till  (lie  deferted  him. 
A  cold  is  caught,  this  med'cine  can  expel, 
The  dofe  is  thrice  repeated,  and  you're  well. 
In  man's  whole  frame  there  is  no  crack  or  ft>w 
But  yields  to  Bath,  to  Briftol,  or  to  Spa: 
No  drug  poetic  frenzy  can  reftrain, 
Ev'n  hellebore  itfelf  is  try'd  in  vain : 
'Tis  quite  incurable  by  human  (kill; 
And  though  it  does  but  little  good  or  ill, 
Yet  (till  it  meets  the  edge  of  reformation, 
Like  the  chief  vice  and  nuifance  of  the  nation. 
The  formal  quack,  who  kills  his  man  each  day, 
Pafles  uncenfur'd,  and  receives  his  pay. 
Old  Aulus,  nodding  'midft  the  lawyers  ftrife, 
Wakes  to  decide  on  property  and  life. 
Yet  not  a  foul  will  blame  him,  and  infill 
That  he  (hould  judge  to  purpofe,  or  defift. 
At  this  addrels  how  would  the  courtiers  laugh  ! 
My   lord,  you're  always  blundering:  quit  your 

(taff: 

You've  loft  fome  reputation,  and  'tis  bed 
To  Jhift  before  you  grow  a  public  jeft. 
This  none   will    think  of,   though   'tis    more  a 

crime 

To  mangle  (late-affairs,  than  murder  rhyme. 
The  quack,  you'll  fay,  has  realbn  for  his  killing, 
He  cannot  eat  unlefs  he  earns  his  (hilling. 
The  worn-out  lawyer  clambers  to  the  bench 
That  he  may  live  at  eafe,  and  keep  his  wench  ; 
The  courtrer-toils  for  fomething  higher  far, 
And  hopes  for  wealth,  new  titles  and  a  ftar ; 
While  moon-ftruck  poets  in  a  wild-goofe  chafe 
Purfue  contempt,  and  begg'ry,  and  difgrace. 

Be't  fo  :  I  claim'd  by  precedent  and  rule 
A  free-born  Briton's  right,  to  play  the  fool : 
My  refolutkm's  fix'd,  my  courfe  I'll  hold, 
In  fpite  of  all  your  arguments  when  told  : 
Whether  I'm  well  and  up,  or  keep  my  bed, 
Am  warm  and  full,  or  neither  cloth'd  nor  fed, 
Whether  my  fortune's  kind,  or  in  a  pet 
Am  banifti'd  by  the  laws,  or  fled  for  debt ; 
Whether  in  Newgate,  Bedlam,  or  the  Mint, 
I'll  write  as  long  as  publifliers  will  print. 

Unhappy  lad,  who  will  not  fpend  your  time 
To  better  purpofe  than  in  ufelefs  rhyme  : 
Of  but  one  remedy  your  cafe  admits, 
The  king  is  gracious,  and  a  friend  to  wits ; 
Pray  write  for  him,  nor  think  your  labour  loft, 
Your  verfe  maj  gain  a  penfion  or  a  pod. 


74 


THE   WORKS   OF   WILK.IE. 


May  Heav'n  forbid  that  this  aufpicious  reign 
Should  fnrnifli  matter  for  a  poet's  ftrain  ; 
The  praife  of  conduct  fteady,  wife^  and  good, 
In  profe  is  beft  exprefs'd  and  underftood. 
Nor  are  thofe  fov'reigns  bleflings  to  their  age 
Whofe  deeds  are  Aing,  whofe  actions  grace  the 

ftage. 

A  peaceful  river,  whofe  foft  current  feeds 
The  conftant  verdure  of  a  thoufand  meads, 
Whofe  fliaded  banks  afford  a  fafe  retreat 
From  winter's  blafts  and  fummer's  fukry  heat, 
From  whofe  pure  wave  the  thirfty  peafant  drains 
Thofe  tides  of  health  that  flow  within  bis  veins, 


Pafles  unnotic'd ;  while  the  torrent  ftrong 
Which  bears  the  fliepherds  and  their  flocks  along, 
Arm'd  with  the  vengeance  of  the  angry  flues, 
Is  view'd  with  admiration  and  furprife ; 
Employs  the  painter's  hand,  the  poet's  quill, 
And  rifes  to  renown  by  doing  ill. 
Verfe  form'd  for  falfehood  makes  ambition  lhincr 
Dubs  it  immortal,  and  almoft  divine ; 
But  qualities  which  fiction  ne'er  can  raife 
It  always  leffens  when  it  ftrives  to  praife. 

Then  take  your  way,  'tis  folly  to  contend 
With  thofe  who  know  their  faults,  but  will  not 
mend. 


THE 


POETICAL  WORKS 


O  F 


ROBERT    DODSLEY. 


Containing 


AGRICULTURE,  II              EPISTL1S, 

MELPOMENE,  SONGS, 

A*T  01  PREACHING,  ||              TALIS, 

&c.  We.  &c. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


Of  culture,  and  the  various  fruits  of  earth, 
The  Mufe,  difdaining  idle  themes,  attempts 
To  fing 

O  native  Sherwood!  happy  were  thy  bard, 
Might  thefe  his  rural  notes,  to  future  time 
Boaft  of  tall  groves,  that,  nodding  o'er  thy  plain, 
Rofe  to  their  tuneful  melody.     But  ah  1 
Beneath  the  feeble  efforts  of  a  mufe, 
Untutor'd  by  the  lore  of  Greece  or  Rome, 
A  ftranger  to  the  fair  Caftalian  fprings, 
Whence  happier  poets  infpiration  draw, 
And  the  fweet  magic  of  pcriuaGve  fong, 
The  weak  prefumption,  the  fond  hope  expire*. 

AGRICULTURE,  CANTO  I.  II. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRfNTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  RO?AL  BANK  CLOSE. 

1795- 


ROBERT  DODSLEY  was  born  at  Mansfield,  in  Nottinghamflure,  in  1703.  The  humble  fituation 
and  circumftances  of  his  parents  precluded  him  from  the  advantages  of  a  liberal  education  ;  and  his 
firft  fetting  out  in  life  was  in  the  flat  ion  of  a  footman  to  the  Honourable  Mrs:.  Lowther,  in  which  hij 
good  conduct  and  abilities  foon  brought  him  into  notice. 

In  this  humble  fphere  of  life  he  -wrote  fcveral  poems,  which  excited  fo  much  attention,  that  he  wa» 
encouraged  to  publifh  them  under  the  title  of  The  Miife  in  Livery.  The  collection  is  very  little 
known  ;  but  it  was  printed  in  izmo.  had  a  very  handfome  lift  of  fubfcribers  prefixed  to  it,  and  wa« 
dedicated  ,to  Mrs.  Lowther. 

He  was  for  fome  time  footman  to  Dartineuf,  the  luxurious  voluptuary,  -and  intimate  friend  of  Pope- 
and  it  is  greatly  to  his  honour,  that  he  was  not  unwilling  that  his  low  ftation  in  the  family  of  that 
epicure  mould  be  recollected,  when  he  liad  railed  himfclf  to  competency  and  affluence. 

"  When- Lord  Lyttleton's  "  Dialogues  of  the  Dead"  came  out,"  lays  Dr.  Johnfon,  as  reported  by 
Mr.  Bofwell,  "  one  of  which  is  between  Apicius,  an  ancient  epicure,  and  Dartineuf,  a  modern  epi 
cure,  Dodfley  faid  to  me,  "  I  knew  Daitineuf  well,  for  I  was  once  his  footman." 

What  contributed  ftill  more  to  his  reputation,  was  his  writing  a  dramatic  piece,  called  Tbc  Tiy- 
Sbop,  built  on  Randolph's  celebrated  comedy,  called  "  The  Mufes  Lookiug-Glals,"  410,  1638 ; 
which  being  fhown  in  manufcript  to  Pope,  he  was  fo  well  pleafed  with  the  delicacy  of  its  latire,  and 
the  fimplicity  of  its  defign,  that  he  took  the  author  under  his  prote&ion;  and  {hough  he  had  no  con 
nection  with  the  theatres,  procured  him  fuch  an  intereft  as  enfured  its  being  immediately  brought  on 
the  ftage.  « 

It  was  acted  at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  in  1735,  with  Very  great  fuccefs,  and  when  printed,  was 
received  with  much  applaufe  by  the  public.  The,  hint  of  it  is  taken  from  Randolph's  play; 
but  he  has  fo  perfectly  modernized  it,  that  he  has  made  it  perfectly  his  own,  and  rendered 
it  one  of  the  jufteft,  and  at  the  fame  time  the  beft  natured  rebukes  that  fafhionable  abfurdity  per 
haps  ever  met  with.  It  contains  many  lively,  pointed,  and  fatiiical  ftrokes  on  the  vices  and  follies  of 
the  age  ;  the  characters  are  diftinct  and  appropriate ;  and  though  it  is  better  calculated  for  the  clofct 
than  the  ftage,  it  is  ftill  received  with  no  fmall  applaufe. 

Pope's  warm  and  zealous  patronage  of  Dodfley  is  noticed  in  a  malignant  epiftle  from€nrll,to  that 
celebrated  poet,  in  1737. 

'Tis  kind  a  Li-very  Misfi  to  aid, 

Who  fcribbles  farces  to  augment  his  trade. 

When  you,  and  Spence,  and  Glover  drive  the  nail, 

The  devil's  in  it,  if  the  plot  mould  fail. 

The  world  has  long  been  ruled  by  an  opinion  which  is  not  yet  entirely  removed,  that  talents  an* 
prudence  are  incompatible  qualities.;  that  it  is  not  eafy  for  a  man  to  be  a  wit  without  mortgaging 
his  eftate ;  and  that  a  poet  muft  ncceffarily  be  in  debt,  and  live  in  a  garret. 

It  was  Dodfley's  good  fortune  to  prove,  if  any  proof  were  wanting,  that  a  man's  cultivating  h 
undemanding  is  ho  impediment  to  improving  his  fortune,  and  that  it  is  very  poffible 
be  an  author,  without  neglecting  bufmefs. 

The  pecuniary  advantages  which  Dodfley  had  derived  from  his  firft  publication,  and  : 
fuccefs  of  his  ry-Stof,  were  applied  by  him  to  a  very  wife  and  ufefui  purpofe.     Inftead  c 
the  precarious  fituation  of  a  town  writer,  he  determined  to  engage  in  fome  profitable  bufim 
the  bufincfs  he  fixed  upon  was  happily  fuited  to  his  literary  tafte,  and  favourable  i 
with  men  of  learning. 

In  1735,  he  opened  a  bookfeller's  <hop  in  Pail-Mall ;  and  fuch  was  the  effect  of  Pope  , 
mendation  and  affiftance,  and  of  his  own  good  character  and  behaviour,  that  he  foon  obtaine 
only  the  countenance  of  perfons  of  the  firft  abilities,  but  alfo  of  thofe  of  the  firft  rank;  and 
years  he  rofe  to  great  eminence  in  his  profeflion.     ' 

His  fhop  became  the  fafhionable  refort  of  perfons  of  literature  and  rank ;  and  he  reckoned  ( 
field,  Lyttleton,  Spence,  Glov.r,  Shenftone,  Dr.  Johnfqn,  and  other  diftinguiflied  cha 
number  of  his  friends. 


?8  THE  LIFE  OF  DODSLEY. 

His  employment  as  a  bookfeller  did  not  prevent  his  purfuing  the  bent  of  his  genius  as  an  author, 
IH  1737,  he  brought  on  the  ftage  at  Drury-Lane  theatre,  a  farce  called  The  King,  and  tie  Miller  of 
Mansfeld,  which  met  with  very  great  fuccefs.  The  plot  of  the  piece  is  founded  on  a  traditional 
flory  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II. ;  of  this  flory  he  has  made  a  very  pleafing  ufe,  and  wrought  it  out  into 
a  truly  dramatic  conclufion.  The  dialogue  is  natSral,  yet  elegant ;  the  fatire  poignant,  yet  genteel ; 
the  fentiments  are  fuch  as  do  honour  to  both  his  head  and  heart ;  and  the  cataflrophe,  though  fim- 
ple,  yet  affecting  and  perfectly  juft.  The  fcene  lies  in  and  near  the  Miller's  houfe  in  Sherwood 
Foreft,  near  Nottingham ;  and  he  had  probably  an  additional  pleafure  in  the  choice  of  his  fubjedh 
from  the  connection  of  it  with  his  native  place. 

O  native  Sbertvood!  happy  were  thy  bard, 
Might  thefe  his  rural  notes  to  future  times, 
Boail  of  tall  groves  that  nodding  o'er  thy  plain, 
Rofe  to  their  tuneful  melody. 

The  year  following,  his  Sir  John  Cockle  at  Court,  a  farce,  was  acted  at  Drury-Lane.  It  is  a  fe- 
^uel  to  the  King  and  Miller  of  Mansfield,  in  which,  the  miller  newly  made  a  knight,  comes  up  to 
London  with  his  family,  to  pay  his  compliments  to  the  king.  It  is  not,  however,  equal  in  merit  to 
the  firft  part ;  for  though  the  king's  difguifing  himfelf,  in  order  to  put  Sir  Johns  integrity  to  the 
teft,  and  the  latter's  refifting  every  temptation,  not  only  of  bribery,  but  of  flattery,  is  ingenious, 
and  gives  an  opportunity  for  many  admirable  ftrokes  of  fatire,  yet  there  is  a  fimplicity  and  funefs 
for  the  drama  in  the  turn  of  the  former  production,  which  it  is  fcarcely  poffible  to  come  up  to  in  die 
circumftances  that  arife  from  the  conduct  of  Sir  John  Cocitle  at  Court. 

The  Milkr  of  Mansfield,  and  itsfeyuel,  exhibitis  an  intereftiug  contraft  between  the  unadorned 

,   folidity  of  country  manners,  and  the  fplendid  vices  of  a  court ;  the  blunt  honefty  of  a  miller,  and  the 

flender  importance  of  a  monarch  without  his  attendants,  in  a  fequeftrated  fpot,  and  in  midnight 

ikrknefs.    It  has  feveral  pleafing  fongs,  which  from  feme  of  them  continuing  ftill  to  be  popular, 

mnft  have  merit. 

His  next  dramatic  performance  was  Toe  Blind  Beggar  cf  Betlnal  Green,  a  ballad  farce,  which,  ac 
cording  to  Mr,  Victor,  was  acted  at  Drury-Lane,  in  1739-40,  but  Mr,  Reed  fays  in  I74i,-but  with- 
•ut  much  faccefs.  It  is  on  the  fame  ftory  with  Day's  comedy  of  "  The  Blind  Beggar  of  Bethnal 
Green,''  410,  1659. 

In  1744,  he  publifhed  A  Collection  of  Plays,  by  old  Authors,  in  12,  vols.  I2mo.,  which  was  a  va 
luable  acquifition  to  the  literary  world.  It  has  been  highly  improved  in  the  fecond  edition,  pub 
lifhed  by  Mr.  Reed,  in  1780 ;  in  which,  befides  an  excellent  preface,  and  very  ufeful  notes,  fome 
plays  before  inferted  are  rejected,  and  others  of  greater  merit  are  introduced  in  their  room. 

In  1745,  he  produced  a  dramatic  piece,  called  Rex  et  Pontiff x,  8vo.,  being  an  attempt  to  intro 
duce  upon  the  ftage  a  new  fpecies  of  pantomime.  It  does  not,  however,  appear  to  have  been  repre- 
fented  at  any  of  our  theatres. 

In  1746,  he  publifhed  The  Mufeum,  or  Literary  and  Htjlorical  Regijler,  in  3  vols.  8vo,  to  which 
Dr.  Johnfon,  and  other  men  of  genius,  were  contributors. 

In  1748,  he  collected  his  feveral  dramatic  pieces,  which  had  been  feparately  printed,  and  pub-  ' 
liflicd  them  in  one  volume  Svo.,  under  the  modeft  title  of  'trifles. 

On  the  occafion  of  the  figning  the  treaty  of  peace,  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  he  wrote  The  Triumph  if 
Peace,  a  mafque,  which  was  fet  to  mufic  by  Dr.  Arne,  and  performed  at  the  theatre  in  Drury-Lane, 
in  1748-9. 

In  1749,  he  publifhed  that  eminently  ufeful  fchool-book,  The  Preceptor,  in  2  vols.  Svo.  The  de- 
fign  of  this  work  was  framed  by  Dodfiey,  and  the  execution  of  it  was  accomplifhed  by  feveral  of  the 
diflinguifhed  writers  of  the  age. 

In  1750,  he  publifhed  a  fmall  work,  which,  for  a  fhort  time  had  a  very  great  celebrity,  under  the 
title  of  The  £concmv  of  Human  Life,  tranjlated  from  an  Indian  ntanufiript,  ivritten  by  an  ancient 
JSramin ;  to  it:bicb  is  prefixed,  an  account  of  the  manner  in  ivbicb  tbe  faiJ  maiwfcript  tvas  dlfcovcred, 
in  a  Letter  from  an  Englijb  Gentleman  now  rejld'ing  in  China,  to  tbe  Earl  of  *  *  *.  Befides  the 
apocryphal  introduction  of  this  work  into  the  world,  it  derived  a  temporary  popularity  from  its 
being  univerfally  afaibed  to  the  Earl  of  Chcfterficld.  This  fuppofition  was  ftrengthcned  by  a  letter 


THE    LIFE  OF  DODSLEY.  J9 

that  had  been  addrefled  to  his  Lordfliip,  by  Mrs.  Terefa.  Conftantia  Philips,  in  which  (he  had  com 
plimented  him  on  being  author  of  "  The  Whole  Duty  of  Man."  She  had  probably  heard  an  ac 
count  of  the  Earl's  letters  to  his  fon.  However  this  may  have  been,  the  power  of  literary  fa/lion  ' 
procured  The  Economy  of  Human  Life  a  rapidity  and  extenfivenefs  of  fale,  and  a  height  of  ap- 
plaufe  which  it  would  not  have  obtained  if  it  had  been  known  to  be  the  production  of  a  bookfeller. 
The  work,  upon  the  whole,  is  not  without  a  confiderable  fhare  of  merit.  The  fubjects  are  well 
chofen,  the  advice  is  good,  the  ftyle  is  fuccinct  and  frequently  nervous  ;  but  it  is  deficient  in  that 
Arength  and  energy)  that  vividnefs  of  imagination,  and  that  luminoufnefs  of  metaphor,  which 
pervade  thofe  parts  of  fcripture  that  were  intended  to  be  imitated,  and  which  occur  in  the  genuine 
oriental  writings. 

The  popularity  of  Dodfley's  performance  produced  a  number  of  imitations:  "  The  fecondpartof 
the  Economy  of  Human  Life,"  "  Appendix,"  "  The  Economy  of  a  Winter  Day,"  "  The  Economy 
of  Female  Life,"  "  The  Economy  of  the  Sexes,"  "  Complete  Economy  for  the  Female  Sex,"  1751, 
and  "  The  Economy  of  the  Mind,"  1767, 

In  1752,  he  obliged  the  lovers  of  poetry,  by  the  publication  of  A  Colleflion  of  Poems,  by  Eminent 
Hands,  vol.  ift,  ad,  and  3d,  iamo.  Several  of  his  own  little  pieces  are  inferted  at  the  clofe  of  the 
3d  volume.  The  4th  volume  of  this  elegant  and  valuable  mifcellany  appeared  in  17551  and  the 
5th  and  6th  volumes,  which  completed  the  collection,  in  1758.  The  pieces  of  which  it  confifts  are 
not  all  equally  valuable ;  but  perhaps  a  more  excellent  mifcellany  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  language. 
By  this  collection  he  performed  a  very  acceptable  fervice  to  the  caufe  of  genius  and  tafte,  as  it  has 
been  the  means  of  preserving  feveral  productions  of  merit,  which  might  otherwife  have  funk  into 
oblivion.  A  judicious  felection  of  pieces  omitted  by  Dodfley,  was  given  to  the  world  by  the  editor 
of  "  A  collection  of  the  moft  efteemed  pieces  of  poetry  that  have  appeared  for  feveral  years:  wjth 
variety  of  originals,  by  the  late  Mofes  Mendez,  Efq.,  and  other  contributors  to  Dodfley's  collection. 
To  which  this  is  deiigned  as  a  fupplement,"  printed  for  Richardfon  and  Urquhart,  in  i  vol.  ismo, 
1767,1770.  The  world  is  indebted  for  a  more  extenfive  fupplement  to  Dodfley,  to  the  valuable 
"  Collections"  of  Mr.  Pearch,  in  4  vols,  I2mo.  1768,  1770  ;  and  of  Mr.  Nichols,  with  biographical 
and  hiftoiical  notes,  in  8  vols,  1780,  1781.  The  collection  printed  for  Urquhart  and  Richardfon 
is  commonly,  but  erroneoufly  afcribed  to  Mendez,  who  died  in  1758.  His  imitations  of  Spen- 
fer,  and  other  poems,  are  highly  deferving  of  republication,  and  were  originally  recommended  by  the 
prefent  writer  to  be  inferted  in  this  collection  of  claflkal  Englifti  poetry. 

The  fubject  of  his  next  publication  was  Public  Virtue,  a  didactic  poem,  which  was  intended  to 
be  comprifed  in  three  books,  including  ift,  Agriculture,  id,  Commerce,  3d,  Arts ;  of  this  truly  ufeful 
»nd  valuable  undertaking,  the  firft  book  on  Agriculture,  was  publilhed  in  1754,  4to.,  and  was  all 
that  was  accomplimed  by  Dodfley.  It  is  probable  that  the  reception  and  fale  of  the  poem  did  not 
encourage  him  to  complete  his  defign. 

In  1758,  he  publiflied  Melpomene. ;  or,  the  Regions  of  Terror  and  Pity,  an  Ode,  4to.  This  ode  was 
eagerly  read  on  its  firft  appearance,  and  is  juftly  regarded  as  one  of  the  happieft  efforts  of  his  mufe. 

His  next  publication  was  The  Annual  Regifter,  or  a  View  of  the  Hi/lory,  Politics,  and  Literature 
of  the  year  1758 ;  a  very  valuable  work,  which  has  been  continued  to  the  prefent  time. 

The  fame  year  his  Cleone,  a  tragedy,  was  acted  at  the  theatre  in  Covent  Garden  ;  and  met  with 
very  great  fuccefs.  An  imperfect  hint  towards  the  fable  of  this  tragedy  was  taken  from  the  "  Le 
gend  of  St.  Genevieve,"  written  originally  in  French,  and  tranflated  into  Englifli  in  the  laft  cen 
tury,  by  Sir  William  Lower.  The  firft  (ketch  of  it,  confiding  then  of  three  acts  only,  was  fliown 
to  Pope  two  or  three  years  before  his  death,  who  informed  Dodfley,  that  in  his  very  early  youth  he 
had  attempted  a  tragedy  on  the  fame  fubject,  which  he  afterwards  deftroyed,  and  he  advifed  him 
to  extend  his  plan  to  five  acts.  It  was  firft  offered  to  Garrick,  but  he  refufed  it ;  principally,  as  it 
fhould  feem,  becaufe  it  contained  no  character  in  which  he  could  have  figured  himfelf.  To  prevent 
its  fuccefs,  he  appeared  in  a  new  part  on  the  firft  night  of  its  appearance.  This  fcherae  had  no 
effect ;  for  the  play  rofe  above  all  oppofition,  and  had  a  long  and  crowded  nm  ;  the  character  of 
Cleone  received  every  poflible  advantage  from  the  exquifite  performance  of  Mn.  Bellamy,  whole 
peculiar  merit,  iu  this  part,  contributed,  in  a  great  degree,  to  promote  the  run  of  the  pice?.  The 
prologue  was  mitten  by  Mr.  Melmot^,  a,nd  the  epilogue  by  Mr.  Shenftonf. 


*«  THELIFEOFDODSLEY. 

The  intrinfic  merit  of  Cleans,  as  a  moral  and  interefting  drama,  is  univerfally  acknowledged. 
"  When  I  heard  you  read  it,"  faid  Dr.  Johnfon  lo  Mr.  Langlon,  as  reported  by  Mr.  Bofxvell,  "  I 
thought  higher  of  its  power  of  language.  When  I  read  it  myfelf,  I  was  more  fenfible  of  its  pathetic 
effect.  If  Otway  had  written  this  play,  no  other  of  his  pieces  would  have  been  remembered.'"  Dodf 
ley  himfelf,  upon  th  s  being  repeated  to  him,  faid,  "  It  was  too  much." 

It  will  not,  indeed,  (land  in  competition  with  the  tragedies  of  Otway  or  Southerne;  but  it  is  not,  upon 
the  whole,  inferior  to  any  that  have  been  brought  upon  either  ftage  for  the  laft  fifty  years,  except 
"  Douglas."  It  is  equally  free  from  the  bombaft  and  rant  of  a  "  Barbarofifa,"  and  from  the  flowery 
whine  and  romantic  foftnefs  of"  Philoclea;"  but  at  the  fame  time  it  wants  the  majeity  of  diction, 
,and  high  reach  of  thought,  effential  to  the  dignity  of  a  perfect  tragedy.  The  plot  is  too  thin  ;  the 
fcenes  are  too  barren  of  incidents,  at  leaft  of  important  ones),  and  the  language,  in  general,  too 
much,  though  not  altogether  deftitute  of  poetry.  It  contains,  however,  fome  happy  expreflions  and 
ftnking  fentiments.  The  circumftance  of  Siffroy's  giving  his  friend  directions  concerning  his  wife, 
has  fome  degree -of  fimilarity  to  Pofthumus's  orders  in  ''  Cymbeline."  In  the  two  laft  afts,  he 
appears  to  the  greateft  advantage  :  Cleone's  madnefs,  in  particular,  over  her  murdered  infant,  be 
ing  highly  pathetic. 

This  tragedy  has  lately  been  revived  by  Mrs.  Siddons;  but  fo  flrong  were  the  feelings  which  her 
exquifite  performance  of  Cleone  excited  on  the  fiift  night  of  acling,  that  the  houfe  was  thin  on  the 
fecund  night,  and  the  play  was  dropped. 

In  176:;,  he  publiflied  his  laft  feparate  work,  the  Sclcfi  Fables  of  JZfop,  and  other  Fabulifts,  in 
three  books,  with  the  Life  of  JEfop,  and  an  Fjfay  on  Fable,  8vo.  This  work  added  greatly  to  his  re 
putation.  It  is  indeed  a  claffical  performance,  both  in  regard  to  the  elegant  fimplicity  of  the 
ilyle,  and  the  propriety  of  the  fentiments  and  characters.  The  firft  book  contains  ancient,  the 
fecond  modern,  and  the  third  original  fables  ;  the  (lories  in  the  third  book  are  wholly  invented  by 
Dodfley  and  his  friends,  the  Life  of  J!L 'fop,  by  M.  Mezeriac,  is  the  only  Life  of  JEfop  that  is  confid 
ent  with  common  fenfe  ;  that  of  Pianudes  being  a  ridiculous  medley  of  abfurd  traditions,  or  equal- 
.Jy  abfurd  inventions.  The  Effay  confiders  the  fable  regularly  ;  firft,  with  relation  to  the  moral ;  fe- 
condly,  the  actions  and  incidents  ;  thirdly,  the  perfons,  character,  and  fentiments  ;  and,  laftiy,  the 
language.  This  is  one  of  the  firft  pieces  of  criticifm,  in  which  rules  are  delivered  for  this  fpeciesof  com- 
pofition  drawn  from  nature,  and  by  which  thefe  fmall  and  pleafing  kind  of  productions  that  were 
thought  to  have  little  other  ftandard  than  the  fancy,  are  brought  under  the  jurifdictionof  the  judg 
ment.  Dodfley  has  been  fo  eminently  fuccefsful  in  his  defign,  that  the  propriety  of  his  remarks  cannot 
be  difputed,  except  only  in  a  fingle  inftance ;  in  which,  alluding  to  the  well-known  fable  of  the  "  Fox 
and  the  Grapes,"  he  fays,  "  a  fox  fhould  not  be  faid  to  long  for  grapes ;"  becaufe  the  appetite  is 
not  confident  with  its  known  character.  It  is  not  fo  in  the  eaft.  Dr.  Haflelquifr,  in  his  "  Travels," 
cbferves,  that  the  fox  is  an  animal  common  in  Paleftine  ;  and  that  it  deftroys  the  vines,  unlels  it  is 
ftrictly  watched.  Solomon  alfo  fays,  in  ".  Canticles"  ii.  15.  "  Take  us  the  foxes,  the  little  foxes  that 
fpoil  the  vines,  for  our  vines  have  tender  grapes."  Before  he  committed  the  EJJ'ay  to  the  prefs,  he 
fubjected  it  to  the  revifal  of  his  literary  friends,  and  efpecially  of  Shenttone. 

In  1761,  he  published  a  collection  of  Fugitive  Pieces,  by  Spence,  Cooper,  Lord  Whitworth,  Mr. 
Burke,  Mr.  Chibbe,  Dr.  Lancafter,  Dr.  Hill,  and  other  elegant  writers,  in  a  vols,  Svo. 

In  1763,  he  publiflied  the  works  of  his  amiable  and  ingenious  friend  Shenftone,  in  2  vols,  1 2mo ; 
to  which  he  prefixed  a  fhort  account  ui  his  life  and  writings,  and  added  a  defcription  of  the  Lea- 
fowes.  , 

His  "  Defcription  of  Perfefield,"  in  a  letter  to  Shenftone,  is  preferved  in  Hull's  "  Select  Let 
ter,"  between  the  Duchefs  of  Somerfet,  Lady  Luxborough,  Mr.  Whiftler,  Mifs  Dolman,  Shenftone, 
Dodfley,  &c.  in  2  vols,  1778. 

In  the  courfe  of  his  profefiion,  Dodfley  acquired  a  very  handfome  fortune,  which  enabled  him  to 
retire  from  the  active  part  of  bufinefs,  which  devolved  on  his  brother  and  partner,  Mr.  James  Dodf 
ley,  the  prefect  refpeftable  bookfeller  in  Pall-Mall.  During  the  latter  years  of  his  life  he  was  much 
troubled  with  the  gout,  to  which,  at  length,  he  fell  a  martyr,  while  he  was  upon  a  vifit  to  his  friend 
-Spence,  at  Durham,  Sept.  5.  1764,  in  the  fixty-nrft  year  of  His  age.  Spence  paid  the  laft  kind  office 
. 


THE  LIFE  OF  DODSLEY.  8l 

to  his  remains.    He  was  buried  in  the  Abbey  church-yard  of  Durham,  and  the  following  infcriptioi 

was  engraved  on  his  torub-ftone. 

If  you  have  any  refpect 
For  uncommon  induftry  and  merit, 

Regard  this  place 
In  which  are  depofited,  the  remains  of 

MR.  ROBLRT  DOBSHT  ; 

Who,  as  an  author,  railed  himfelf 

Much  above  what  could  have  been  expected 

From  one  in  his  rank  of  life, 
And  without  a  learned  education  ; 

And  who,  as  a  man,  was  fcarce 

Exceeded  by  any  in  integrity  of  heart. 

And  purity  of  manners  and  converfation. 

He  left  this  life  for  a  better, 

Sept.  25.  1764, 
In  the  6rft  year  of  his  age.  X 

A  fecond  volume  of  his  Mifcellanies  was  publifhed  in  8vo,  1772.     The  volume  contains  CJttne 
Melpomene,  Agriculture,  and  the  .Economy  of  Human  Life.     The   editions  of  the  Economy  of 
Human  Life  are  too  numerous  to  be  fperified.     His  Agriculture,  Melpomene,  and   other  paemj, 
are  now,  for  the  firft  time  received  into  a  collection  of  claHical  Englifh  poetry. 

His  character  was  very  amiable  and  refpectabie.  As  a  tradefman,  he  preferved  the  greateft  in- 
^egrity  ;  as  a  writer,  the  moft  becoming  humility.  Mindful  of  the  early  encouragement  which  his 
own  talents  met  with,  he  was  ever  ready  to  give  the  fame  opportunity  of  advancement  to  thofe 
of  others;  and  on  many  occafions  he  was  not  only  the  publifher,  but  the  patron  of  genius.  Th-re 
was  no  circumitance  by  which  he  Was  more  diftinguilhed,  than  by  the  grateful  remembrance  which 
he  retained,  and  always  exprefled  towards  the  memory  of  thofe  to  whom  he  owed  the  obligation  01 
being  firft  taken  notice  of  in  life.  Modeft,  fenfible,  and  humane;  he  retained  the  virtues  which 
firft  brought  him  into  notice,  after  he  had  obtained  wealth  lufficient  to  fatisfy  every  wim  which 
could  arife  from  the  pofleflion  of  it.  He  was  a  generous  friend,  an  encourager  of  men  of  genius, 
and  acquired  the  efteem  and  refpect  of  all  who  were  acquainted  with  him.  It  was  his  happinefs  to 
pafs  the  greateft  part  of  his  life  in  an  intimacy  with  men  of  the  brighteft  abilities,  whofe  names  will 
be  revered  by  pofterity  ;  by  moft  of  whoin'he  was  loved  as  much  for  the  virtues  of  his  heart,  as  he 
•was  admired  on  account  of  his  writings. 

As  an  author,  he  is  entitled  to  confiderable  praife.  His  works  are  recommended  by  an  cafe  and 
elegance,  which  are  fometimes  more  pleafing  than  a  more  laboured  and  ornamented  manner  of 
writing.  His  profe  is  familiar,  and  yet  chafte.  His  Sffhy  on  Fable  will  be  a  durable  monument 
of  his  ingenuity.  In  his  dramas  he  has  always  kept  in  view  the  one  great  principle,  deletlanilo  t 
pariterque  monendo,  forne  general  moral  is  conftantly  conveyed  in  each  of  his  plans,  and  particular 
inftructions  are  difplayed  in  the  particular  ftrokes  of  fatire.  The  dialogue,  at  the  fame  time,  is  eafy ; 
the  plots  fimple  ;  and  the  cataftrophe  interefting  and  pathetic.  In  verfe,  his  compofitions  fufficientljr 
fhow  what  genius  alone,  unaffifted  by  learning,  is  capable  of  executing.  His  fubjects  are  well 
chofen  and  entertaining ;  the  diction  is  chafte  and  elegant ;  the  fentiments,  if  not  fublime,  are 
manly  and  pleafing  ;  and  the  numbers,  if  not  exquifitely  poliflied,  are  eafy  and  flowing. 

OJ  his  poetical  productions,  his  Agriculture,  a  Georgic  in  three  canto.',  is  the  moft  confiderable. 
The  fubjcfl:  is  fiich  as  muft  be  grateful  and  entertaining  to  every  Briton  ;  and  though,  in  the  ex- 
ecution,  there  are  imperfections  impofiiMe  to  be  overlooked  by  a  critical  eye,  yet  there  are  a  num 
ber  of  beauties  in  it  deferving  of  applaufe  ;  and  thofe  who  may  have  reafon  to  condemn  the  poet, 
Will  find  ample  caufe  to  commend  the  patriot.  Indeed,  to  write  a  truly  excellent  George,  is  one  of 
the  greateft  efforts  of  the  human  mind.  Perfectly  to  fucceed  in  this  fpecies  of  poetry,  requires  s  Vir- 
•  gil's  genius,  judgment,  exquifitenefs  of  tafte,  and  power  of  harmony.  The  general  economy  of  this 
Georgi.:  is  judicious:  it  contains  feveial  exalted  fentiments;  and  the  defcriptions  are  often  delicate 
and  well  exprefled.  But,  at  the  fame  time,  the  diction  is  frequently  too  profaic,  many  of  the  epi 
thets  are  inadequate,  and  in  forne  places,  fufficicnt  attention  is  not  paid  to  the  powers  of  the  verfifi- 
1  Cation. 

Vol.  XL 


Ix  THE  LIFE   OF  DODSLE?. 

In  \\iejirft  ranto,  after  having  generally  propofed  his  intention,  addrtffed  it  to  the  PrinCe 
«nd  invoked  the  Genius  of  Britain,  he  proceeds  to  confuler  husbandry  as  the  fource  of  wealth  and 
plenty  ;  and  therefore  recommends  it  to  landlords  not  to  opprefs  the  farmer,  and  to  the  farmer  that 
he  fhould  be  frugal,  temperate,  and  induilrious.  After  giving  an  account  of  the  inftruments  of 
hnfbandry,  he  defcribe*  a  country  ftatute,  and  introduces  the  epii'ode  of  Patty,  the  fair  milk -maid* 
The  next  objects  offered  to  view  are  the  farmer's  poultry,  kine,  hogs,  &c.  with  their  enemies,  the 
kite,  the  fox,  the  badger,  and  fuch  other  animals  as  prey  upon  the  produce  of  the  farm,  or  impede 
the  induftrious  labours  of  the  hufbandman  ;  and  we  are  fhown  hew  the  cultivation  of  the  former,  and 
the  detraction  of  the  latter  contribute  alternately  to  provide  him  with  bufinefs  or  amufemtnt: 
whence  we  are  led  to  contemplate  the  happinei'sof  a  rural  life  ;  to  which  fucceeds  an  addrefs  to  the 
great  to  engage  them  in  the  ftudy  of  agriculture.  An  allegorical  explanation  of  nature's  operationJ 
On  the  vegetable  world,  with  a  philofophical  fyftem,  built  on  the  experimental  foundation  I?id  by 
Dr.  Hales,  concludes  the  canto.  The  addrefs  to  the  Genius  of  Britain  is  pleafing,  and  the  defcrip- 
tion  of  the  fair  Milk-maid  is  exquifuely  beautiful. 

Thefecond  canto  begins  with  inftructions  for  meliorating  foils,  according  to  their  diverfity,  whe 
ther  they  confilt  of  fand,  loam,  or  clay.  Mr.  Tuli's  principles  and  practice  are  particularly  tafcea 
notice  of,  and  thofe  of  the  Middlefcx  gardeners.  Directions  are  alfo  given  for  various  manures,  and 
other  methods  are  pointed  out  for  the  improvement  and  cnclofure  of  lands ;  the  rcfpective  ufes  of  the 
feveral  foreft  trees  are  diftir.guiflied  ;  the  advantages  arifing  from  plantations  pointed  out ;  and  rules 
are  prefented  for  their  fuccefsful  cultivation.  To  thefe  fucceed  feme  observations  on  gardening, 
•wherein  the  tafte  for  ftrait  lines,  regular  platforms,  and  dipt  trees,  imported  from  Holland  at  the 
Revolution,  is  exploded.  Thefe  are  fucceeded  by  a  few  compliments  to  fome  modern  gardens, 
Chifwick,  Richmond,  Oatlands,  tflier,  Woburn,  and  Hagley;  a  defcription  of  thole  of  Epifurui, 
and  a  cele' nation  of  his  morals.  The  apoftrophe  to  the  Geniut  of  Gardens  is  happily  introduced  ; 
and  the  defrription  of  the  Gardens  of  Epicurus  is  rich  and  luxuriant. 

In  the  third  canto  are  defcribed  hay-making,  harveft,  and  the  harveft-home;  a  method  is  pre- 
fcribed  for  preventing  the  hay  from  being  mow-burnt,  or  taking  fire.  Other  vegetable,  fold,  and 
jnineral  productions  peculiar  to  England  are  praifed.  From  the  culture  and  produce  of  the  earth,  we 
have  a  tranfition  to  the  breeding  and  managem*  nt  of  fh«ep,  cows,  and  horfes  ;  of  the  hitter  there  arr 
descriptions  according  to  their  refpective  ufes  :  whether  for  draught,  the  road,  the  fieid,  the  race, 
•r  for  war.  The  portraits  of  the  two  laft,  which  are  eminently  beautiful,  conclude  the  poem. 

Of  his  other  poems,  his  Melpomene  may  be  confidered  as  the  grcateft  effort  oS  his  poetical  genins. 
It  cannot  indeed  vie  in  fublimity  and  enthufiafm  with  the  lyric  competitions  of  Drjden,  .-.  kenfide, 
Collins,  Gray,  and  Maibn.  It  has  a  more  moderate  degree  of  elevation,  and  poetic  nre  It  is  ani 
mated  without  being  rhapfodical,  and  joins  ardent  fentiment  and  picturefque  defcription,  to  cor- 
rectnefs,  harmony,  and  happy  expreffiot).  His  picture  of  Defpair,  in  the  Region  cf  Terror,  is  finely- 
drawn,  and  only  inferior  to  that  of  Spenfer.  The  portrait  of  Rage  is  equally  happy  in  the  defigningv 
and  the  exprtflion.  In  the  Region  of  Pity,  the  image  of  a  beautiful  maid  expiring  on  the  corfe  of  a 
brave  lover,  who  has  been  killed  in  vindicating  her  honour,  is  pffectinjjy  picttirefqite.  That  of  a  too 
credulous  and  injured  beauty^  is  equally  ftriking  and  beautiful,  and  pregnant  with  a  neceffary  moral 
caution. 

Of  his  Art  of  Preaching,  in  imitation  of  Horace's  "  Art  of  Poetry,"  the  rules  are  weli 
adapted,  and  exemplified,  and  the  verfification  is  fmooth  and  elegant.  His  Swgs,  in  point  of 
tendernefs,  delicacy,  and  Gmplicity,  are  not  inferior  to  any  Compofition  of  that  kind  in  the  Englilh 
language. 

Moft  of  his  fmaller  pieces  may  be  read  with  pleafure.  His  juft  retort  on  Burnet,  for  calling 
Prior  in  his  "  Hiftory  of  his  Own  Tiroes,"  one  Prior,  is  probably  remembered  by  moft  readsrs  «$ 
poettf. 


THE  WORKS  OF  DODSLET. 


AGRICULTURE :  A  POEM. 


PREFA'CE. 

Ir  the  writer  of  the  following  piece  could  hope  to 
produce  any  thing  in  poetry,  Worthy  the  pbblic 
attention,  it  would  give  him  particular  pleal'ure  to 
lay  the  foundation  of  his  claim  to  fuch  a  diftinc- 
tioa  in  the  happy  execution  of  this  work.  But  he 
fears  it  will  be  thought,  that  the  projected  build 
ing  is  too  great  for  the  abilities  of  the  architect; 
and  that  he  is  not  furnifhed  with  a  variety  of  ma 
terials  ftifficient  for  the  proper  finishing  and  em- 
bellilhment  of  fuch  a  ftructure.  And  when  it  is 
farther  confefled,  that  he  hath  entered  on  this  de- 
fign  without  the  alfiitance  of  learning,  and  that 
his  time  for  the  execution  of  it  was  either  fnatched 
from  the  hours  of  bufinefs,  or  ftolen  from  thofe  ot 
reft  (the  mind  in  either  cafe  not  likely  to  be  in  the 
happieft  difpofition  for  poetry),  his  profpecls  of 
fuccefs  will  grow  ftill  more  clouded,  and  the  pre- 
fumption  again  ft  him  mutt  gather  additional 
ftrength. 

Under  thefe,  and  many  other  difadvantages, 
Tvhich  he  feels  and  laments ;  confcious  of  all  his 
deficiencies,  and  how  unequal  he  is  to  the  talk  of 
executing  this  plan,  even  up  to  his  own  ideas; 
tvhat  fiiaJl  he  plead  in  excufe  for  his  temerity  in 
perfifting  thus  far  to  proiccutr  the  attempt?  All 
he  can  fay  is,  that  he  hath  taken  tonic  pains  to 
furnifij  himfelf  with  materials  for  the  work  ;  that 
he  hath  confulted  men  as  well  as  book*,  for  the 
knowledge  of  his  fubjects,  in  which  he  hopes  he 
hath  not  been  guilty  of  many  miftakes;  that  it 
hath  not  been  an  hafty  performance;  nor  is  it  at 
Jaft  obtruded  on  the  pubijc,  without  the  approba 
tion  of  feveral  perfons,  whofe  judgments,  wen- 
it  not  probable  they  may  have  received  a  bias  from 
the  partiality  of  friendfhip,  he  could  have  no  rea- 
fon  to  doubt.  But  that  he  may  know  with  cer 
tainty  whether  this  is  not  the  cafe,  to  the  public 
he  fubmits  it ;  willing  to  receive  from  thence  his 
determination  toprofecute  or  fupprefs  the  remain 
der  of  his  plan  *.  If  he  here  receives  a  check,  he 
will  quietly  acquiefce  in  the  general  opinion,  and 
nroft  fubmit  to  be  included  among  thofe  who  have 
miftaken  their  talent.  But  as  the  difficulties  he 
tad  to  itruggle  with  would,  in  cafe  of  fuccefs, 
have  increased  his  reputatian,  he  hopes,  if  he 
rhath  failed,  they  will  foften  his  difgrace. 

*  The  author's  original  dejign  <wns  tt  have  writ 
ten  a  poem,  intituled,  "  Public  Virtue"  in  three 
tookt  ;  iji,  Agriculture;  2rl,  Cemmerce ;  jrf,  drtf- 
was  (Ul  hi  tvtr  executtd. 


CANTO  I. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

The  propoCtion.  Addrefs  to  the  Prince  of  Wa>%. 
Invocation  to  the  genius  of  Britain.  Huflxmdry 
tp  be  encouraged,  as  it  is  the  Iburce  ot  « talth 
and  plenty.  Advice  to  landlords,  not  to  oppreft 
the  farmer.  'Ihe  farmer's  three  great  virtues. 
His  instruments  of  husbandry.  His  Gtrvaots. 
Defrription  of  a  country  ftatute.  Epifude  ot  the 
fair  milk-maid.  The  farm-raid  defcribed.  The 
pleafures  of  a  rural  life.  Addrefs  to  the  great, 
to  ftudy  agriculture.  An  allegory,  attempting 
to  explain  the  theory  of  vegetation. 

OF  culture,  and  the  various  fruits  of  earth, 
Of  focial  commerce,  of  the  nobler  arts, 
Which  polifli  and  adorn  the  life  cf  man  ; 
Objects  demanding  the  lupreme  regard 
Of  that  exalted  monarch,  who  fuftain* 
The  fceptre  of  command  o'er  Britain's  (bnj; 
The  mufc,  difdaming  'die  themes,  attempts 
To  (ing.   O  thou,  Britannia's  rifing  hopr  ! 
The  favourite  of  her  wiflie- !  Thou,  O  prince  ! 
On  whom  her  fondett  expectation?  wait, 
Accept  the  verfe  :  and,  to  the  humbled  voice 
That  (ings  of  public  virtue,  lend  ah  ear'. 

Genius  of  Britain  !  pure  intelligence  ! 
Gnardian,  appointed  by  the  One  Supreme, 
With  influential  energy  benign 
To  guidf  the  weal  of  tlrs  dittinguilh'd  ifle  ; 
O  I  wake  the  brealt  of  her  afpiring  foil, 
Inform  his  numbers,  aid  his  bold  defign, 
VVho,  in  a  darii'g  flight,  prefumes  to  mark 
The  glorious  track  her  monarch?  flji?uld  purfue. 

From  cultivation,  from  the  ufeful  tr  iU 
Of  the  laborious  hind,  the  ttrenms  of  wealth 
And  plenty  flow.   Deign  then,  illuftrious  youth! 
To  bring  th'  obforving  eye,  the  liberal  hand, 
And,  with  a  fpirit  congenial  to  your  bird), 
Regard  his  various  labours  through  the  yean 
So  fliall  the  labourer  frnile,  and  you  improve 
The  happy  country  you  are  born  to  rule. 

The  year  declining,  now  hath  left  the  fields 
Diverted  of  their  honours  :  the  ftrong  glebe 
Exhaufted,  waits  the  culture  of  the  plough, 
To  renovate  her  powers.  'Tis  now,  intrnt 
On  honeft  gain,  the  cautious  hufljandmaa 
Surveys  the  country  round,  folicitou* 
To  fix  his  habitation  on  a  foil 
Propitious  to  his  hopes  and  to  bis  cares. 

O  ye,  whom  fortune  in  her  filken  robe 
Enwraps  beniffn^  whom  plenty's  bounttoujh«ni 


THE    WORKS,  OF    DODSLEY. 


Hath  favour'd  with  diftindtion  !  O  loak  down, 

With  fmiles  indulgent,  on  his  new  defigns  1 

A  (lift  his  ufeful  works,  facilitate 

Hts  honeft  aims;   r,or  in  exaction's  gripe        [toils 

Enthral  th'  endeavouring  fwain.     Think  not  his 

Were  meant  alone  to  fofter  you  in  eafe 

And  pamper'd  indolence  ;   nor  grudge  the  meed, 

Which  Heaven  in  m'ercy  gives  to  cheer  the  hand, 

The  labouring  hand  of  ufeful  induftry. 

Be  yours  the  joy  to  propagate  content; 

With  bounteous  Heaven  co-operate,  and  reward 

The  poor  man's  toil,  whence  all  your  riches  fpring. 

As  in  a  garden,  the  enlivening  air 

Is  fili'd  with  odours,  drawn  from  thofe  fair  flowers 

Which  by  its  influence  rife  ;  to  in  his  breaft 

Benevolent,  who  gives  the  fwains  to  thrive, 

Reflected  live  the  joys  his  virtues  lent. 

But  come,  young  farmer,  though  by  fortune  fix'd 
On  fields  luxuriant,  where  the  fruitful  foil 
Gives  labour  hope  ;  where  flickering  (hades  arife, 
Thick  fences  guard,  and  bubbling  fountains  flow  j 
Where  arable  and  pafture  duly  mix  ; 
Yet,  ere  thy  toils  begin,  attend  the  mufe, 
And  catch  the  moral  leflons  of  her  fong. 
Be  frugal  and  be  bled  ;  frugality 
Will  give  thee  competence  ;  thy  gains  are  fmall, 
Too  fmall  to  bear  profufion's  wafteful  hand. 
Make  temperance  thy  companion;  fo  fhall  health 
Sit  on  thy  brow,  invigorating  thy  frame 
To  every  ufeful  work.  And  if  to  thefe 
Thou  happily  lhalt  join  one  virtue  more, 
The.  love  of  induitry,  the  glowing  joy 
Felt  from  each  new  improvement ;  then  fair  peace, 
With  modeft  neatnefs  in  her  decent  garb, 
Shall  walk  around  thy  dwelling;  while  the  great, 
Tir'd  with  the  vaft  fatigue  of  indolence, 
Fili'd  with  difeaie  by  luxury  and  floth, 
Impatient  curfe  the  dilatory  day, 
And  look  with  envy  on  thy  happier  (late. 

Prepar'd  with  thefe  plain  virtues,  now  the  fwain 
With  courage  enters  on  his  rural  works. 
Firft  he  provides  the  needful  implements. 
Of  thefe,  the  honour' d  plough  claims  chief  regard. 
Hence  bread  to  man,  who  heretofore  on  maft 
Fed  with  his  fellow  brute  in  woods  and  wilds, 
Himfelf  unrulttir'd  as  the  foil  he  trod. 
The  fpiked  harrow^next,  to  break  the  clods, 
And  fpread  the  furface  of  the  new-plough'd  field  : 
Nor  is  the  roller's  friendly  aid  unfought. 
Hoes  he  provides,  with  various  arms  prepar'd, 
T'  encounter  all  the  numerous  hoft  of  weeds, 
Whicfi  rife  malignant,  menacing  his  hopes. 
The  fweeping  fcythe's  keen  edge  he  whets  for 

gra's, 

And  turns  the  crooked  fickle  for  his  corn. 
The  fork  to  fpread,  the'gathering  rake  to  fave, 
With  providential  care  he  treafures  up. 
His  itrong  capacious  wain,  the  dull  flow  ox 
Drags  on,  deep  loaden,  grinding  the  rough  ruts ; 
While  with  his  lighter  team,  the  fprightly  horfe 
Moves  to  the  mufic  of  his  tinkling  bells. 
Nor  will  his  forefight  lack  the  whiiling  flail, 
Whofe  battering  ftrokes  force  from  the  loofen'd 

(heaves 

Their  hidden  (lores  profafe  ;  which  now  demand 
The  quick  rotation  of  the  winnowing  fan, 
With  biafts  fucceflive,  wafting  far  c.\vxy 
The  worthlcfs  chaff,  to  clear  the  golden  gr  ;irf. 


And  now  coropell'd  to  hire  afliflant  ftrength, 
Away  he  haftens  to  fome  neighbouring  town, 
Where  willing  fervitude,  for  mutual  wants 
Of  hind  and  farmer,  holds  her  *  annual  feaft. 
'Tis  here  the  toiling  hand  of  induftry 
Employment  feeks.   The  (kilful  ploughman,  lord 
And  leader  of  the  ruftic  band  ;  who  claims 
His  boy  attendant,  confcious  of  his  worth 
And  dignity  fuperior ;  boafting  (kill 
To  guide  with  fteadinefs  the  fliding  (hare, 
To  fcatter  with  an  equal  hand  the  feed, 
And  with  a  mafter  fcythe  to  head  the  train-, 
When  the  ripe  meadow  afks  the  mower's  hand. 
Here  too,  the  thraflier,  brandifliing  his  flail, 
Befpeaks  a  mafter,  whole  full  barns  demand 
A  labouring  arm,  now  ready  to  give  up 
Their  treafure,  and  exchange  their  hoarded  grair 
For  heaps  of  gold,  the  meed  of  honeft  toil. 
The  fun-burnt  (hepherd  too,  his  douching  hat 
Diftinguifli'd  well  with  fleecy  locks,  expects 
Obfervance  ;  fldll'd  in  wool,  and  ledbn'd  deep- 
In  all  difeafes  of  the  bleating  flock. 
Mix'd  with  the  ruftic  throng,  fee  ruddy  maids, 
Some  taught  with  dext'rous  hand  to  twirl  th< 

wheel, 

Or  ftroak  the  ("welling  udder ;  fome  expert 
To  raife  from  leaven'd  wheat  the  kneaded  loaf; 
To  mafh  the  melted  barley,  and  extract 
Its  flavour'cl  ftrength  ;  or,  with  a  houl'e wife's  care 
To  keep  the  decent  habitation  neat. 
But  now  let  loofe  to  revelry  and  fport, 
In  clamorous  mirth  indelicate  and  rude,        [voke 
The  boifterous  fwains,  and  hoyden  nymphs,  pro- 
Outrageous  merriment. — Yet  not  alike 
Is  every  fwain,  nor  every  fylvan  maid  ; 
As  Verulam  the  pleafing  tale  records. 
When  Patty,  lovely  Patty,  grac'd  the  crowd, 
Pride  of  the  neighbouring  plains.    Who  hath  nol 

heard 

Of  Patty,  the  fair  milk-maid  ?  Beautiful 
As  an  Arcadian  nymph  ;  upon  her  brow 
Sat  virgin  modefty,  while  in  her  eyes 
Young  fenfibility  began  to  play 
With- innocence.  Her  waving  locks  fell  down 
On  either  (ide  her  face  in  carelefs  curls, 
Shading  the  tender  blufhes  in  her  cheek. 
Her  breath  was  fweeter  than  the  morning  gale, 
Stolen  from  the  rofe  or  violet's  dewy  leaves. 
Her  ivory  teeth  appear'd  in  even  rows, 
Through  lips  of  living  coral.   When  (he  fpoke, 
Her  features  wore  intelligence  ;  her  words 
Were  foft,  with  inch  a  fmile  accompany'd, 
As  lighted  in  her  face  refiillcfs  charms. 
Her  polifli'd  neck  rofe  rounding  from  her  breaft 
With  pleating  elegance  : — That  lovely  breaft  1— 
Ah  !  fancy,  dwell  not  there,  left  gay  defire, 
Who,  fmiling,  hovers  o'er  th'  enchanting  place, 
Tempt  thy  wild  thoughts  to  dangerous  ecftafy. 
Her  (hape  was  moulded  by  the  hand  of  eafe, 
Exact  proportion  harmoniz'd  her  frame  ; 
While  grace,  following  her  (leps,  with  fecret  art 
Stole  into  all  her  motions.    Thus  (he  waik'd 
In  fweet  duplicity  ;  a  fnow-vrhite  pail 

*  This  is  called  in  the  country  ajlatute,  and  i. 
held  annually  at  mofl  market-towns  i?i  England 
where  fervants  of  all  kinds  refort  in  queftoj  place 
and  employment. 


POEM    S. 


Hung  on  her  arm,  the  fymbol  of  her  ficlll 
In  that  fair  province  of  the  rural  Hate, 
The  dairy  ;  fourcc  of  more  delicious  bowls 
Than  Bacchus  from  his  choice/I  vintage  boafts. 

How  great  tho  power  of  beauty!    The  rude 

fwains 

Grew  civil  at  her  fight ;  and  gaping  crowds, 
Wrapt  in  aftonifhment,  with  tranfport  gaze, 
Whifpering  her  praifes  in  each  other's  ear. 
As  when  a  gentle  breeze,  borne  through  the  grove, 
"With  quick  vibration  (hakes  the  trembling  leaves, 
And  hufhing  murmurs  run  from  tree  to  tree  ; 
So  ran  a  fpreading  whifper  through  the  crowd. 
Young  Thyrfis  hearing,  turn'd  afide  his  head, 
And  foon  the  pleafing  wonder  caught  his  eye. 
Full  in  the  prime  of  youth,  the  joyful  heir 
Of  numerous  acres,  a  large  freehold  farm, 
Thyrfis  as  yet  from  beauty  felt  no  pain, 
Had  feen  no  virgin  he  could  wifh  to  make 
His  wedded  partner.  Now  his  beating  heart 
Feds  new  emotion  ;  now  his  fixed  eye, 
With  fervent  rapture  dwelling  on  her  charms, 
Dnnks  in  (Jelicjous  draughts  of  new-born  love. 
No  reft  the  night,  no  peace  the  following  day 
Brought  to  his  ftruggling  heart :  her  beauteous 

form, 

Her  fair  perfections  playing  on  his  mind, 
"With  pleating  anguifh  torture  him.  In  vain 
He  flrives  to  tear  her  image  from  his  bread  ; 
Each  little  grace,  each  dear  bewitching  look, 
.Returns  triumphant,  breaking  his  refolvcs, 
And  binding  all  his  foal  a  Have  to  love.         f 

Ah  !  little  did  he  know,  alas  !  the  while 
Poor  Patty's  tender  heart,  in  mutual  pain, 
Long,  long  for  him  had  heav'd  die  fecret  figh. 
For  him  fhe  dreft,  for  him  the  pleafing  arts 
She  ftudy'd,  and  for  him  fhe  wiih'd  to  live. 
But  her  low  fortunes,  nurfing  fad  defpair, 
Check'd,  the- young  hope;  nor  durft  her  modeft  eyes 
Indulge  the  fmalleft  glances  of  her  flame, 
Left  curious  malice,  like  a  watchful  fpy, ' 
Should  catch  the  fecret,  and  with  taunts  reveal. 

Judge  then  the  fweet   furprifc,  when   ihe  at 

length 

Beheld  him,  all  irrefolutc,  approach  ; 
And  g:ntly  taking  her  fair  trembling  hard, 
Breathe  thefe  foft  words  into  her  liftening  car, 
|c  O  Patty!  deareft  maid,  whofe  beauteous  form 

Dwells  in  my  breaft,  and  charms  my  foul  to  love, 
R  .Accept  my  vows;  accept  a  faithful  heart, 

Which  from  this  hour  devotes  itfelf  to  thee : 
"  Wealth  has  no  rclifh,  life  can  give  no  joy, 
P*  If  you  forbid  my  hopes  to  call  you  mine." 
jA.h  !  who  the  fud.den  tumult  can  cleicribe 
bf  ftruggling  paffions  rifing  in  her  breaft  ? 

;  ar,  confufion,  modefty,  and  love, 
Opprefs  her  labouring  foul : — She  ftrove  to  fpeak, 
But  the  faint  accents  dy.'d  upon  her  tongue  : 
Her  fears  prevented  utterance. — At  length 
r  Can  Thyrfis  mock  my  poverty  ?  Can  he 
'.'  Be  fo  unkind  ?  O  no !    yet  I,  alas, 
14  Too  humble  even.to  hope" — No  more  fhe  faid ; 
But  gtntly,  as  if  half  unwilling,  ftolc 
Her  hand  from  his;  and,  with  fweet  modefty, 
Cafting  a  look  of  diffidence  and  fear, 
To  hide  herblufb.es.  filently  withdrew. 
But  Thyrfis  read,  with  rapture  in  her  eyes, 
•he  biio-in^e  of  her  foul.  He  follow'd,  woo'd, 


And  won  her  for  his  wife.  His  lowing  herds 
Soon  call  her  miftrefs  ;  foon  their  milky  dreams 
Coagulated,  rife  in  circling  piles 
Of  harden'd  curd  ;  and  all  the  dairies  round, 
To  her  fweet  butter  yield  fuperior  praife. 

But  turn,  my  rnufe,n.or  let  th'  alluring  form 
Of  beauty  lead,  too  far  thy  devious  i: 
Sec  where  the  fanner,  with  a  mailer's  «.ye, 
Surveys  his  little  kingdom,  ai:d  exults 
In  fov'reign  independence.  At  a  word, 
His  feathery  fubjeds  in  obedience  flock 
Around  his  feeding  hand,  who  in  return 
Yield  a  delicious  tribute  to  his  board, 
And  o'er  his  couch  their  downy  plumage  fpread. 
The  peacock  here  expands  his  eyeful  plumes, 
A  glittering  pageant  to  the  mid-day  fun  : 
In  the  (Tiff  awkw;mhjcf$  of  foolifn  pride, 
The  (welling  turkey  apes  liis  (lately  dtp, 
And  calls  the  bridling  fcathers'round  his  head. 
There  the  loud  herald  of  the  morning  flruts 
Before  his  cackling  dames,  the  paffive  (laves 
Of  his  promifcuous  plcafure.   O'er  the  pond, 
See  the  gray  gander,  with  his  female  train, 
Bending  their  lofty  necks ;  and  gabbling  ducks, 
Rejoicing  on  the  furface  clap  their  wings ; 
Whilft  \\heeling  round,  in  airy  wanton  flights, 
The  glofl'y  pigeons  chafe  their  fpoitive  loves, 
Or  in  foft  cooiilgs  tell  their  amorous  tale. 
Here  (tacks  of  hay,  there  pyramids  of  corn, 
Promife  the  future  market  large  fupplies  : 
While  with  an  eye  of  triumph  hi:  (urveys 
His  piles  of  wood,  and  laughs  at  winter's  frown. 
In  filent  rumination,  fee  the  kine, 
Beneath  the  walnut's  (hade,  patiently  wait 
TO  pour  into  his  pails  their  milky  (lores. 
While  pent  from  rnifchief,  far  from  fight  remov'd, 
Thebriftly  herd,  within  their  fatt'nicg  dyes, 
Remind  him  to  prepare,  in  many,  a  row, 
The  gaily  blooming  pta,  the  fi agrant  bean,  [feaft. 
And   bicad-leav'd  cabbage,  for  tht   ploughman's 

Thefe  his  amufements,  his  employments  thefe  ; 
Which  ftill  ariiing  in  faccefiive  change, 
Give  to  each  vary'd  hour  a  new  delight. 
Peace  and  contentment  with  their  guardian  wings 
Enclofe  his  nightly  (lumbers.  Rcfy  health, 
When  the  gay  lark's  fweet  matin  wakes  the  morn, 
Treads  in  his  dewy  footfteps  round  the  field  ; 
And  cheerfukiefs  attends  his  clofing  day. 
No  racking  jealouly,  r.cr  fullen  hate, 
Nor  fear,  nor  envy,  difcompofe  his  bread. 
His  only  eremks  the  prowling  fox, 
Whofe  nightly  murders  thiu  the  bleating  fold; 
The  hardy  baJger ,  the  rapacious  kite, 
With  eye  malignant  en  the  little  brood, 
Sailing  around  portentous ;  the  rank  dote 
Thirftin;;,  ah,  ravage  thirl:  !  for  harmlels  blood; 
The  corn  devouring  partridge;  timorous  hare  ; 
Th'  amphibious  otttr  bold  ;  the  weafcl  fly, 
Pilfering  the  yolk  from  its  endofing  diell ; 
And  moles,  a  dirty  undermining  race. 
Thefe  all  his  f<:~s  and  thefe,  alas,  compar'd 
Wuh  man  to  man,  an  rno/Tuifrve  train 
'Gainft  thefe,  affificd  by  th'  entangling  net, 
Th'  explofive  tlnin-.kr  of  die  kvdl'd  tube, 
Or  toils  unwcary'd  of  liis  facial  friend 
The  faithful  t:<y,  he  wages  run: 
And  health  a:-..  «  ficW 

Obtaining,  he  i't,J£>vcs  il'.eir  vernal  crime?. 
!•  iij 


THE   WORKS   OF  DODSLEY. 


O  happy  he !  hsppleft  of  mortal  men  '. 
Who  far  remov'd  from  flavery  as  from  pride, 
Fears  no  man's  frown,  nor  cringing  waits    to 

catch 

The  graciou-  nothing  of  a  threat  man's  nod: 
Where  the  lac'd  beggar  butties  for  a  bribe, 
The  purchafe  of  his  honour;  where  deceit, 
And  fraud,  and  circumvention,  dreft  in  fmiles, 
-Hold  fhameful  commerce ;  and  bensath  the  mafk 
Of  friendOiip  and  fincerity,  betray. 
Him,  nor  the  (lately  manfion's  gilded  pride, 
Rich  with  whare'er  the  imitative  arts, 
Painting  or  fculpture,  yield  to  charm  the  eye; 
Nor  {hining  heaps  of  maffy  plate  enwrought 
With  curious^  coftly  workmanfkip,  allure. 
Tempted  nor  with  the  pride  nor  pomp  of  power, 
Nor  pageants  of  ambition,  nor  the  mines 
Of  grafping  av'rice,  nor  the  poL'oa'd  fweets 
Of  pamper'd  luxury,  he  plants  his  foot 
With  firmnefs  on  his  old  paternal  fields, 
And  flands  unihaken.  There  fweet  profpe&s  rife 
(Of  meadows  fmiiing  in  their  flow'ry  pride, 
Green  hills  and  dales,  and  cottages  embower'd, 
The  fcenes  of  innocence  and  calm  delight. 
There  the  wild  melody  of  warbling  birds, 
And    cool   refrefhing   groves,    and    murmuring 

fprings, 

Invite  to  facred  thought,  and  lift  the  mind 
From  low  purfuits,  to  meditate  the  God  ! 

Turn  then  at  length, 'O  turn,  ye  Tons  of  wealth, 
And  ye   who   feek  through    life's    bewildering 

maze, 

To  tread  the  path?  of  happinefs,  O  turn  ! 
And  trace  her  footfteps  in  the  rural  walk  ; 
In  thofe  fair  fcenes  of  wonder  and  delight, 
Where,  to  the  human  eye,  Omnipotence 
Unfolds  the  map  of  nature,  and  difphys 
The  matchlcfs  beauty  of  creat'.'d  things. 
Turn  to  the  arts,  tht  ufeful  pleafing  arts 
Of  cultivation  ;  and  thofe  fi  Ids  improve 
Your  erring  fathers  have  too  long  defpis'd. 
.Leave  not  to  ignorance,  and  low-bred  hinds, 
That  noblefl  fcierice,  which  in  ancient  time 
The  mind  of  fages  and  of  kings  employ'd, 
Solicitous  to  learn  che  ways  of"  God, 
And  read  his  work  in  agriculture's  fchool. 

Then  hear  the  mufe,  now  entering,  hand  in 

hand 

With  fweet  philofophy,  the  ferret  bowers 
Of  deep  myfterious  nature ;  there  t'  explore 
The  caufes  of  fecundity,  and  how 
The  variou«  elements,  earth,  water,  air, 
And  fire  united;  the  enlivening  ray 
Diurnal ,  the  prolific  dews  of  night ; 
With  all  the  rolling  feafons  of  the  year ; 
In  vegetation's  work  their  power  combine. 
•  Whither,  O  whither  doft  thou  lead  my  flaps, 
Divine  philofophy  ?  Wrhat  fcenes  are  thefe, 
Which  flrike   my  wondering  fenfes  ?  Lo  !  en- 

thrort'd 

Upon  a  folid  rock  great  nature  fits ; 
Her  eyes  to  heaven  directed ,  as  from  thence 
Receiving  infpiration.    Round  her  head 
A  mingled  wreath       fruits  and  flowers  entwines. 
Her  robe,  with  every  motion  changing  hue, 
Flows  down  in  plenteous  foldings,  and  conceals 
Her  ferret  footfteps  from  the  eyes  of  men. 
I^ft  I  lift !  what  hifmony,  what  heavenly  found* 


Enchant  my  ravifh'd  ear  ?  'tis  ancient  l  Pan, 
Who  on  his  feven-fold  pipe,  to  the  rapr  foai 
Conveys  the  fancy 'd  rnufic of  the  f-jhcic  -. 
See  by  his  (trains  the  elements  infpir'd, 
Join  in  myfterions  work ;  theirtnotions  led 
By  f  aftive  fire,  in  windings  intricate, 
But  not  perplex'tl,  nor  vague.  And  who  are  they 
What  pair  obeying  in  alternate  t  ounds 
The  tuneful  melody  ?  majeftic  one, 
And  grave,  lifting  her  awful  forehead,  moves 
In  fhadowy  /iience,  borne  on  raven  ".rings, 
Which,  waving  to  the  meafur'd  founds,  beat  time. 
A  veil  oMcures  her  face  ;  a  fable  dole, 
Bedeck'd  with  fparkling  gems,  conceal-;  her  form 
As  wreaths  of  bending  poppy  Crown  her  brow. 
The  other,  rais'd  on  fwan-likc  fpreading  plumes. 
Glides  gaily  on  ;  a  milk-white  robe  inverts 
Hii  frame  tranfparcnt ;  in  his  azure  eyes 
Dwells  brightneft;  while  around  his  radiant  hea< 
A  (hining  glory  paints  his  flying  robe, 
With  all  the  colours  of  the  wat'ry  bow. 

Proceeding  now,  in  more  majeftic  flops, 
The  varying  feafons  join  the  my  (lie  train. 
In  all  the  blooming  hues  of  iloiid  youth, 
Gay  fpring  advances  fmiiing  :  on  her  head 
A  flow'ry  chaplet,  mix'd  with  verdant  buds, 
Sheds  aromatic  fragrance  through  the  air ; 
While  little  zephyrs,  breathing  wanton  gales, 
Before  her  flutter,  turning  back  to  gaze, 
With  looks  enamour'd,  on  her  lovely  face. 
Summer  fucct-cds,    crown'd  with    the    beardt 

ears 

OF  ripening  harveft ;  in  her  hand  file  bears 
A  (hining  fickle  ;  on  her  glowing  clwek 
The  fervent  heat  pain: 3  deep  a  rofy  blufh  : 
Her  thin  light  garment,  waving  with  the  wind, 
Flows  loofely  from  her  bofom,  ajid  reveals 
To  the  pkas'd  eye  the  beauties  of  her  form. 
Then  follows  Autumn,  bearing  in  her  lap 
The  blufhing  fruits,  which  Summer's  fultry  breai 
Had  meilow'd  to  her  hand.  A  cluftcring  wreath 
Of  purple  gn*pe«,  half  hid  with  fpreading  leaves 
Adorns  her  brow.  Her  dew-befprinkled  locks 
Begin  to  fall,  her  bending  fhoulders  fink, 
And  active  vigour  leave*  her  fober  fteps. 
Winter  creeps  on,  (hrivell'd  with  chihii'jjcold ; 
Bald  his  white  crown,  upon  his  filvvr  bcaid 
.shines  the  hoar-froft,  and  ificles  depend. 
Rigid  and  (lern  his  melancholy  face  ; 
Shivering   he  walks,    his  joints   benumb 'd   a: 

ftiff; 

And  wraps  in  northern  furs  his  withered  truck. 
And  now,  great  nature  pointing  to  the  train 
Her  heaven-direfted  hand,  they  all  combine, 
In  meafur'd  figures,  and  myftcrious  rounds, 
To  weave  the  mazy  dance  ;  while  to  the  found 
Ol"  Pan's  immortal  pipe,  the  goddefs  jom'd 

*  Mythologies  have  ibvuntt  the  unlvirfal  n.itxrt 
things  ta  be  'JigRtfctl  by  tins  god ;  and  thai  fiis  fife,  cot 
fifed  off  even  reeds,  tL-as  tbefymbol  ofthtfavtn  plane 
•wbicb  tbcvfay  make  the  ianncxy  cftbc  fcherts. 

\  According  to  Dr.  Eocri-a-ut,  and  tiic  other  mode 
pbilsfopbcrS)  all  tbc  motion  in  nature  arijes  from  frt 
and  fating  that  a-:uay,  all  things  iva.,ld  become  Jix 
and  itnmyjcable :  fluids  ii'ouIJ  become  Jeiid ;  a  mi 
*ivou!d  harden  into  ajlaiue  ;  and  tht  very  air  iituld  < 
hers  intt  a  firm  and  rigid  mcfs, 


POEM 

'Her  voiee'harmonlous ;  and  the  liltening  mufe, 
Admiring,  caught  the  wonders  of  her  *  theme. 
"  To  God,  faprcme  Creator  !  great  and  good  ! 
"  All-wife,  Almighty  Parent  of  the  world  ! 
*'  in  choral  fyuiphonies  of  praife  and  love, 
"  Let  all  the  powers  of  nature  raife  the  fong  !" 
*  The  wat'ry  (igns  forfuking,  fre,  the  full, 

*  Great  father  of  the  vegetable  tribes, 

4  Darts  from  the  Ram  his  all-enlivening  ray. 

*  When  now  the  geni.vl  warmth  earth's  yielding 

'  bread 

4  Unfolds.     Her  latent  falls,  fulphureou?  oils, 
'  And  air,  and  water  mix'd;  attract,  repel, 
'  And  rnife  prolific  ferment.     Lo  !  at  length 

*  The  vital  principle  begins  to  wake  : 

4  Th'  ernulgent  fibres,  uretching  round  the  root, 
4  Seek  their  terreftrial  nurture  ;  which  convey'd 
4  la  limpid  currents  through  th1  afccnding  tubes, 
4  And  itrain'd  and  filrer'd  In  their  fccret  cells ; 
4  To  its  own  nature  every  different  plant 
4  Aflimilating,  changes.     Awl'ul  Heaven  ! 

*  How  wond'rous  is  thy  work,   to  thee  !  to  thce! 
4  Mysterious  power  belongs  !  fummcr's  fierce  heat 
1  Increafing,  rarifies  the  ductile  juice. 

4  See,  from  the  root,  arid  from  the  bark  imbib'd, 
4  Th'  elastic  air  irr.pells  :  he  rifing  fap. 
'  Swift  through  the  item,  through  every  branch- 
*  ing  arm, 

*  And  fnulicT  fhoot,  the  vivid  moirture  flows, 

*  Protruding  from  their  buds  the  opening  leaves: 
'  Whence,  as  ordainM  th'  expiring  air  flows  out 
4  In  copious  exhalations ;  and  from  whence 

4  Itsnoblefl  principles  the  plant  inhales. 

4  See !  fee !  the  ihooting  verdure  fpreads  around  ! 
'  Ye  fons  of  men,  with  rapture  view  the  fcene  '. 

*  On  hill  and  dale,  on  meadow,  field,  and  grove, 
«  Cloth' d  in  foft  mingling  {hades  from  light  to 


CANTO  II. 


THE  ARGUMENT. 


'  The  wandering  eye  delighted  roves  untir'd. 
4  The   hawthorn's    whitening    buih,    Pomona's 

4  blooms, 

4  And  Flora's  pencil  o'er  th'  enamell'd  green, 
4  The  varying  fcenes  enrich.     Hence  every  gale 
4  Breathes  odours,  every  zephyr  from  his  wings 

*  Wafting  new  fragrance ;  borne  from  trees,  from 

'  ihtubs, 

4  Eorne  from  the  yellow  cowflip,  violet  blue, 
4  From  deep  carnation?,  from  the  blufhing  rofe, 
4  From  every  flower  and  aromatic  herb 

*  In  grateful  mixtures.     Hence  ambrofial  fruits 

4  Yield  their  delicious  flavours.    The  fweet  grape 
4  The    mulberry's    cooling    juice,    the    lufcious 

4  plumb, 

«  The  healthful  apple,  the  diffolving  peach, 
4  And  thy  rich  nedar  many  flavoured  pine. 
«  Thefe  are  the  gracious  gif.i.  O  favour'd  man! 
4  Thefe,    thefe,    to   thee    the   gracious  gifts    of 

4  Heav'n, 

*  A  world  of  beauty,  wonder,  and  delight.' 

"  To  God,  fupreme  Creator  !  great  and  good  ! 
41  All-wife,  Almighty  Parent  of  the  world! 
"  In  choral  fymphonies  of  praife  and  love, 
4<  Let  all  the  powers  of  nature  clofe  the  ftrain." 

*   The  flilafopby  of  tbis  hymn  is  Iuilt  on  that  ex 
perimental  foundation,  laid  by   the  learned  and  infctiem 
'ft,  in  kit  Vrgctfblt  Stftiet. 


Of  different  foils,  and  their  culture.  Mr.  Tull'» 
principles  and  practice.  Of  the  principles  and 
practice  of  the  Middlefcr  gardeners.  Of  vari 
ous  manures,  and  other  methods  of  improving 
lands.  Of  hedging  and  ditching.  Of  planting 
timber  trees.  Of  draining  wet,  And  flooding 
dry  land1?.  Of  gardening  and  the  gardens  it 
Epicurus. 

DESCENDING  now  from  thefe  fuperior  theme*, 
O  mufe,  in  notes  familiar,  teach  the  fwain 
The  hidden  properties  of  cve^y  g'''bj, 
And  what  the  different  culture  each  requires. 
The"  natundift,  to  fand,  or  loam,  or  clay, 
Reduces  all  the  varying  foils,  which  clothe 
The  bofom  of  this  earth  with  beauty.     Sand, 
Hot,  open,  loofe,  admits  the  grm.il  ray 
Wi:h  freedom,  and  with  greedtnefs  imbibes 
The  falling  moifture:  hence  the  embryo  feeds, 
Lodg'd  in  its  fiery  womb,  pnfh  into  life 
With  early  haflc,  and  hurry 'd  to  their  prime, 
(Their  vital  juices  fperrt)  too  foon  decay. 
Correct  this  error  of  the  ardent  foil, 
With  cool  manure:  let  ftiff  cohefive  clay 
Give  the  loofe  glebe  confiflence  and  firm  flrength, 
So  fliall  thy  labouring  fteers,  when  bar  veil  calls. 
Bending  their  patient  fhonlders  to  the  yoke, 
Drag  home  in  copious  loads  the  yellow  grain. 

Has  fortune  fix'd  thy  lot  to  toil  in  clay  * 
Pefpair  not,  nor  repine :  the  llubborn  foil 
Shall  yield  to  cultivation,  and  reward 
The  hand  of  diligence.     Here  give  the  plough 
No  reft.  Break,  pound  the  clpds,  and  with  waran 

dungs 

Relieve  the'fteril  coldnefs  of  the  ground, 
Chiil'd  with  obftru&ed  water.     Add  to  thefc 
The  (harpefl  fand,  to  open  and  unbind 
The  clofe-cohering  mafs ;  fo  fliall  new  pore* 
Admit  the  folar  beam's  enlivening  heat, 
The  nitrous  particles  of  air  receive,   _ 
And  yield  a  paffage  to  the  foaking  rain. 
Hence  fermentation,  hence  prolific  power, 
And  hence  the  fibrous  roots  in  queft  of  food. 
Find  unobftru 6ted  entrance,  room  to  fprcad, 
And  richer  juices  feed  the  fwelling  fhoots : 
So  the  ftrong  field  fliall  to  the  reaper's  hand 
Produce  a  plenteous  crop  of  waving  wheat. 

But  bleft  with  cafe,  in  plenty  fhall  he  live, 
Whom  Heav'n's  kind  hand,  indulgent  to  his  wifc, 
Hath  plac'd  upon  a  loamy  foil.     He  view  s 
All  produces  of  the  teeming  earth  arife 
In  plenteous  crops,  nor  fcarce  the  needful  aid 
Of  culture  deigns  to  aflc.     Him,  nor  the  feart 
Of  fcorching  heat,  nor  Mvges  of  ra  n 
Alarm.     His  kindly  fields  fuftain  all  charge 
Of  feafons,  and  fnpport  a  healthy  feed, 
Ip  vigour  through  the  perils  of  the  year. 
But  new   improvcmets  curious  wooldft  tho^ 

learn, 
Hear  then  the  lore  of  fair  Berkeria  s  •  fon, 

*  TtelatfMr.  T«//,  ef  Sballtmt  in  Serifiirt,  i* 
lit  Horfe-lctlr?  HtflanJry ,  or>aȣ/ay  wtbt  1'r.n 
lipltt  of  f't/et^it"  <*nd  Tillage. 
f  liij 


ff 

Whofe    precepts    drawn   from  fage    experience, 

claim 

Regard.     The  paflure,  and  the  food  of  plants, 
Firft  let  the  young  Agricolift  be  taught : 
Then  how  to  fow,  and  raife  the  embryo  feeds 
Of  every  different  fpecies,     Nitre,  fire, 
Air,  water,  earth,  their  various  powers  combine 
In  vegetation ;  but  the  genuine  food 
Of  every  plant  is  earth  :  hence  their  increafe, 
Their  ftrength  and  fubftance.    Nitre  firft;  prepares 
And  feparates  the  concreted  parts;  which  then, 
The  vvat'ry  vehicle  affumes,  and  through 
Th'  afcending  tubes,  impeli'd  by  fubtle  air, 
Which  gives  it  motion,  and  that  motion  heat, 
The  fine  terreftrial  aliment  conveys. 

Is  earth  the  food  of  plants  ?  their  pafture  then 
By  ceafelefs   tillage,  or  the  ufe  of  dung, 
Muft  or  ferment,  or  pulverize,  to  (it 
For  due  reception  of  the  fibrous  roots : 
But  from  the  ftreams  of  ordure,  from  the  ftench 
Of  putrefaction,  from  ftercoreous  fumes 
Of  rottennefs  and  filth,  can  fvveetnefs  fpring  ? 
Or  grateful,  or  falubrious  food  to  man  ? 
As  well  might  virgin  innocence  prefcrve 
Her  purity  from  taint,  amid  the  liews. 
Defile  not  then  the  frefhnefs  of  thy  field 
With  dungs  polluting  touch";  but  let  the  plough, 
The  hoe,  the  harrow,  and  the  roller  lend 
Their  better  powers,  to  fruftify  the  foil ; 
Turn  it  to  catch  the  fun's  prolific  ray, 
Th'  enlivening  breath  of  air,  the  genial  dews, 
And  every  influence  of  indulgent  Heaven. 
Thefe  fhall  enrich  and  fertilize  the  glebe, 
And  toil's  unceafing  hand  full  well  fupply 
The  dunghill's  fordid  and  extraneous  aid. 

Thus  taught  the   Shalborne  fvvain ;    who  firft 

with  fkill 

Led  through  the  fields  the  many-coulter'd  plough; 
Who  firft  his  feed  committed  to  the  ground. 
Shed  from  the  drill  by  flow  revolving  wheels, 
In  juft  proportion  andin  even  rows ; 
Leaving  'twixt  each  a  fpacious  interval, 
To  introduce  with  eafe,  while  yet  the  grain 
Expanding  crown'd  the  intermediate  ridge, 
His  *  nrw  machine,  form'd  to  exterminate 
The  weedy  race  (intruders  who  devour, 
But  nothing  pay),  to  pulverize  the  foil, 
Enlarge  and  change  the  pafture  of  the  roots, 
And  to  its  laft  perfection  raife  the  crop. 
He  taught,  alas !  but  practis'd  ill  the  lore 
Of  his  own  precepts.     Fell  difcafe,  or  floth 
Relax'd  the  hand  of  induftry  :  hi?  farm, 
His  own  philofophy  diigracing,  brought 
Difcredit  on  the  doctrines  he  enforc'd. 

Then  banifh  from  thy  fields  the  loiterer  floth ; 
Nor  liften  to  the  voice  of  thoughtlefs  eafe. 
Him  fordidnefs  and  penury  furround, 
Beneath  \vhofe  lazy  hand  the  farm  runs  wild  ; 
Whofe  heart  nor  feels  the  joy  improvement  gives, 
Jtfor  leaden  eye  the  beauties  that  arife 
From  labour  fees.     Accumulated  filth 
Annoys  his  crowded  fteps ;  even  at  his  door 
A  yellow  mucus  from  the  dunghill  ftands 
In  fcjualid  pools';  his  buildings  uurepair'd, 


The 


THE   WORKS    OFDOBSLEY. 

To  ruin  rulh  precipitate  ;  his  field* 
Diforder  governs,  and  licentious  weeds 
Spring  up  unchcck'd  :    the  nettle  and  the  dock, 
Wormwood  and  thirties,  in  their  feafons  rife, 
And  deadly  nightfhade  fpreads  his  poifon  round. 
Ah  !  wretched  he  !  if  chance  his  wandering  child, 
By  hunger  prompted,  pluck  th*  alluring  fruit! 
Benumbing  Itupor  creeps  upon  his  brain  ; 
Wild  grinning  laughter  foon  to  this  fuccecds ; 
Strange  madnefs  then,  and  death  in  hideous  form. 
Myfterious  Providence !  ah,  why  conceal'd 
In  iuch  a  tempting  form,  fhould  poifons  lurk  ; 
Ah,  why  fo  near  the  path  of  innocents, 
Should  fpring  their  bane  ?  But  thou  alone  art  wife. 

Thus  hath  the  faithful  mufe  his  lore  purfu'd, 
Who,  trufting  to  the  culture  ofrhis  plough, 
Refus'd  the  dunghill's  aid.     Yet  Men  not 
To  doubtful  precepts,  with  implicit  faith  ; 
Experience  to  experience  oft  oppos'd, 
Leaves  truth  uncertain.     See  what  various  crops, 
In  quick  fucceffion,  cro\vn  the  jarden'd  fields 
On  Thames'  prolific  bank      On  culture's  hand 
Alone,  do  thefe  Horticulifts  rely  ? 
Or  do  they  owe  to  London's  rich  manure 
Thofe  produces  which  its  crowded  markets  fill  ? 
Both  lend  their  aid  :  and  both  with  art  improv'd, 
Havefpread  the  glory  of  their  garden's  wide, 
A  theme  of  wonder  to  the  diftant  i'wain.         [er'd 
Hence  the  piazza'd  *  fquare,  where  erft,  embow- 
In  folemn  floth,  good  Martin's  lazy  monks 
Dron'd  oat  their  ufelefs  lives  in  pamper'd  eafe  ; 
Now  boafts,  from  induflry's  rough  hand  fupply'd, 
Each  various  efculent  the  teeming  earth 
In  every  changing  feafon  can  produce. 

Join  then  with  culture  the  prolific  ftrength 
Of  fuch  manure  as  beft  inclines  to  aid 
1  hy  failing  glebe.     Let  oily  marl  impart 
its  unftuous  moifture,  or  the  crumbling  f  tan 
Its  glowing  heat.     Nor  from  the  gazing  herds. 
Nor  briftly  fwine  obfcene,  difdain  to  heap 
Their  cooling  ordure.     Nor  the  warmer  dungs 
Of  fiery  pigeons,  of  the  ftabled  horiir, 
Or  folded  flock,  neglect.     From  fpriukled  foot, 
i  rom  aflies  ftrcw'd  around,  let  the  damp  foil 
Their  nit'rous  falls  imbibe.     Scour  the  deep  ditch. 
From  its  black  icdiment ;  and  from  the  ftreet 
Its  trampled  mixtures  rake.  Green  Handing  pooJs^ 
Large  lakes,  or  meadows  rank,  in  rotted  heaps 
Of  J  unripe  weeds,  afford  a  cool  manure. 
From  ocean's  verge,  if  not  too  far  remov'd, 
Its  fhi;liy  fands  convey  a  warm  compoft, 
From  land  and    wave   commixt,    with    richnefs, 

fraught : 

This  the  four  glebe  fhall  fweeten,  and  for  years, 
Through  chilly  clay,  its  vigorous  heat  fhall  glow. 

*  Cogent-Garden,  -witch  is  iwtu  a  market  far 
greens,  roots,  &c.  ivas  formally  a  garden  belonging 
to  the  monti  of  fit.  Martin  s  con-vent. 

\  Toe  bark  of  oak,  cfter  it  Lath  been  iifcd  by  tie 
tanner.  It  is  frequently  made  ifi  of  for  botbeds, 
particularly  for  raijing  pins-applet ;  and  it  called  by 
the  gardeners,  Tan: 

\  If  Mads  are  f  offered  to  Jland  till  they  are  ripe 
before  they  are  made  this  life  of,  their  feeds  w/V/  Jill 
the  ground,  and  it  will  be  d'ifficuli  to  get  tbtm  tut 

again, 

• 


POEMS. 


But  if  nor  oily  marl,  nor  crumbling  tan, 
Nor  dung  of  cattle,  nor  the  trampled  ftreet, 
Nor  weed,  nor  ocean's  fand,  can  lend  its  aid  ; 
Then,  farmer,  raife  immediate  from  their  feeds, 
The  juicy  italks  of  largely-fpreading  puife, 
Beans,  buck-wheat,  fpurry,  or  the  climbing  vetch  ; 
Thtfe  early  reapt.  and  burv'd  in  the  foil, 
Enrich    the    parent    womb    from    whence    they 

fprung. 

Or  fow  the  bulbous  turnip;  tills  fliall  yield 
Sweet  pafture  to  the  flocks,  or  lowing  herds,. 
And  well  prepare  thy  land  for  future  crops. 

Yet  not  alone  to  ruife,  but  to  fecure 
Thy  products  from  invalion,  and  divide 
For  various  ule  th*  appropriated  fields, 
Difdam  not  thus  to  learn.     For  this,  the  floe, 
The  furze,  the  holly,  10  thy  hand  prefent 
Their  branches,  and  their  different  merits  boaft. 
But  from  the  nurs'ry  then  with  care  feledl 
<^uick  hawthorn  fetts,  well  rooted,  fmooth,  and 

ftrait: 

Then  low  as  finks  thy  ditch  on  either  fide, 
Let  rife  in  height  the  doping  bank:   there  plant 
ThyTuture  fence,  at  intervals  a  foot 
From  each  to  each,,  in  beds  of  richeft  mold. 
Nor  ends  the  labour  here  ;  but  to  defend 
Thy  infant  fhoots  from  depredation  deep, 
At  proper  diftance  drive  (tiff  oaken  (lakes; 
Which,  interwove  with  boughs  and  flexile  twigs, 
Fruftrate  the  nibbling  flock,  or  biouzing  herd. 
Thus,  if  from  weeds,  that  rob  them  of  their  food, 
Or  choke,  by  covering  from  the  vital  air, 
The  hoe'*  neat  culture  keep  thy  thickening  (hoots, 
Soon  fhall  they  rife,  and  to  thy  field  afford 
A  beauteous,  ftrong,  impenetrable  fence. 
The  linnet,  goldfinch,  nightingale,  and  thruflj, 
Here,  by  fecurity  invited,  build 
Their  little  nefts,  and  all  thy  labours  cheer 
With  melody  :  the  hand  of  lovely  May 
,Here  ftrews  her  fweeteft  bloflbms  ;   and  if  mixt 
With  ftocks  of  knotted  crabs,  ingrafted  fruits, 
When  autumn  crowns  the  year,  ihaUfiniie  around. 

But  from  low  flu  tibs,  if  thy  ambition  rife 
To  cultivate  the  larger  tree,  attend. 

From  feeds,  or  fuckers,  layers,  or  fetts,  arife 
Their  various  tribes ;  for  now  exploded  Hands 
The  vulgar  fr.ble  of  fpontan«ous  birth, 
To  plant  or  animal.     He  then,  who,  pleas'd, 
In  fancy's  eye  beholds  his  future  race 
Rejoicing  in  the  (hades  their  grandfire  gave ; 
Or  he  whofe  patriot  views  extend  to  raife, 
In  diftant  ages,  Britain's  naval  power  ; 
Muft  firft  prepare,  inclining  to  the  fouth, 
A  (heiter'd  nurfery ;  well  from  weeds,  from  flirubs, 
Clear'dby  the  previous  culture  of  the  plough, 
From  cattle  fenc'd,  and  every  peeling  tooth. 
Then  from  the  fummit  of  the  faireft  tree 
His  feed  (elected  ripe,  and  fow'd  in  rills 
On  nature's  fruitful  lap:   the  harrow's  care 
Indulgent  covers  from  keen  frofls  that  pierce, 
Or  vermin  who  devour.     The  wint'ry  mouths 
In  embryo  clofe  the  future  foreft  lies, 
And  waits  for  germination  :  but  in  fpring, 
When  tbfir  green  heads  firft  rife  above  the  earth, 
And  a(k  thy  faltering  hand  ;  then  to  their  roots 
The  light  foil  gently  move,  and  ftrew  around 
<Jld  leaves,  or  litter. 'd  ftraw,  to  fcreen  from  heat 


The  trnder  infants.     Leave  not  to  vile  weeds 
This  friendly  office;  whofe  fa  lie  kindnefs  chokes, 
Or  (larves  the  nurflings  they  pretend  to  fliude. 
^  When    now   four  luuinsers  have  beheld  their 

youth 

Attended  in  the  nurfery,  then  tranfplant. 
The  foij,  prepar'd,  to  where  thy  future  grove 
Is  deftin'd  to  uprear  its  leafy  head 
Avoid  the  error  of  impatience.     He 
Who,  eager  to  enjoy  the  cooling  (hade 
His  hands  (hall  raife.  removes  at  vaft  expence 
Tall  trees;   with  envy  and  regrc-t  flial!  fee 
His  neighbour's  intant  plants  toon,  loon  uutftrip 
The  Tardy  loiterers  of  his  dwindling  topic. 

But  it  thy  emulation's  generous  pride. 
Would  boatt  the  largelt  timber  (trait  and  ftrong! 
Thick  let  the  leedling  in  their  native  beds 
Stand  unremov'd  ;  fo  fliall  each  latrra:  branch, 
Obitrucled,  fend  its  nouriibmc in  to  raile 
The    towering  ftem :    and   they  whofe  vigorotll 

health 

Exalts  above  the  reft  their  lofty  heads, 
Afpiring  (till,  fliall  Iprcad  their  powerful  arms. 
While  the  weak  puny  race,  obfcsr'd  below. 
Sickening,  die  off.  and  leave  their  vidlors  room. 
Nor  (mall  the  praife  the  (kilful  phnter  claims 
From  his  befriended  country.      Various  arts 
borrow  from  him  materials.     The  foft  beech, 
And  clofe-grain'd  box,  employ  the  turner's  wheel. 
And  with  a  thoufand  implements  fupply 
Mechanic  (kill.     Their  beauteous  veins  the  yew 
And  phyllerea  lend,  to  furface  o'er 
The  cabinet.     Smooth  linden  belt  obeys 
The  carver's  chiffel;   beft  his  curious  work 
Difplays  in  all  its  nicelt  touches.     Birch— 
Ah,  why  fliould  birch  fupply  the  chair?  fince  oft 
Its  cruel  twigs  compel  the  (mailing  youth 
To  dread  the  hateful  feat.     Tough-bending  alb. 
Gives  to  the  humble  fwain  his  uieful  plough, 
And  for  the  peer  his  prouder  chariot  builds. 
To  weave  our  bafkets  the  foft  ofier  lends 
His  pliant  twigs:  Stavts  that  nor  (brink  nor  fwell, 
The  coopgr's  clofe-wrought  cafk  to  chcfnut  ewes. 
The  fweet-leav'd  walnut's  undulate*  ^rain, 
Foiifli'd  with  care,  adds  to  the  workman's  art 
Its  varying  beauties.     The  tall  towering  elm, 
Scoop'd  into  hollow  tubes,  in  fecret  ttreams 
Conveys  for  many  a  mile  the  limpid  wave  ;, 
Or  from  its  height  when  humbled  to  the  ground, 
Conveys  the  pride  of  mortal  man  to  dult. 
And  laft  the  oak,  king  of  Britannia's  woods. 
And  guardian  of  her  ifle  '.  whofe  fons  robuft, 
The  beft  fupporters  of  incumbent  weight, 
Their  beams  and  pillars  to  the  builder  give. 
Of  llreugth  immenfe  :  or  in  the  bounding  deep 
The  loofe  foundations  lay  ot  floating  u  alls, 
Impregnably  fecure.     But  funk,  but  fallc  n 
From  all  your  ancient  grandeur,  O  ye  groves! 
Beneath  whofe  lofty  venerable  boughs 
The  druid  erft  his  folemn  rites  pertorm'd, 
And  taught  to  diftant  realms  his  facred  lore. 
Where  are  your  beauties  tied  ?  where  but  to  fcrv« 
Your  thanklefs  country,  who  tmblufliing  fees 
Her  naked  fore fts  longing  for  yourlliade. 

The  talk,  the  glorious  taik,  for  thee  remainf, 
O  prince  belov'd !  for  thee  more  nobly  born 
Than  for  thyfeif  alone,  the  patriot  work 


TttE   WORKS    OF  DODSLEY. 


Yet  unattempted  waits;     O  let  not  pafs 

The  fair  occafion  to  remoteft  time 

Thy  name  with  praife,  with  honour  to  tranfmit ! 

So  fliall  thy  country's  rifing  fleets,  to  thee 

Owe  future  triumphs;  fo  her  naval  ftrength, 

Supported  from  within,  fhall  fix  thy  claim 

To  ocean's  fovereignty ;  and  to  thy  ports, 

In  every  climate  of  the  peopled  earth, 

Bear  commerce ;  iearlets,  unrefifted,  fafe. 

Let  then  the  great  ambition  fire  thy  breaft, 

For  this,  thy  native  land  ;  replace  the  loft 

Inhabitants  of  her  deferted  plains. 

Let  Thame  once  more  on  Windfor's  lofty  hills 

Survey  young  forefts  planted  by  thy  hand. 

Let  fair  Sabrina's  flood  again  behold 

•The  *  Spaniard's  terror  rife  renew'd.    And  Trent, 

From  Sherwood's  ample  plains,  with  pride  convey 

The  bulwarks  of  her  country  to  the  main. 

O  native  Sherwood  !  happy  were  thy  bard, 
'Might  thefe  his  rural  notes,  to  future  time 
Boaft  of  tall  groves,  that,  nodding  o'er  thy  plain, 
Rofe  to  their  tuneful  melody.     But,  ah  I 
Beneath  the"  feeble  efforts  of  a  mute 
Untutor'd  by  the  lore  of  Greece  or  Rom<5 ; 
Aftranger  to  the  fair  Caftalian  fprings, 
Whence  happier  poets  infpiration  draw, 
And  the  fweet  magic  of  perfuafive  fong, 
The  weak  prefumption,  the  fond  hope  expires. 
/Yet  fure  fome  facred  irnpulfe  flirs  my  bread  1 
I  feel,  I  feel,  an  heavenly  gueft  within  ! 
And  all-obedient  to  the  ruling  God, 
The  pleafmgtalk  which  he  infpires,  purfue. 

And  hence,  difdaining  low  and  trivial  things ; 
Why  fliould  I  tell  of  him  whofe  obvious  art, 
To  drain  the  low  damp  meadow,  (loping  links 
A  hollow  trench,  which  arch'd  at  half  its  depth, 
Cover'd  with  filtering  brufh-wood,  furze  or  broom, 
And  furfac'do'er  with  earth;   in  fecret  ftreams 
"Draws its  collected  moifture  from  the  glebe? 
Or  why  of  him,  who  o'er  his  fandy  fields, 
Too  dry  to  bear  the  fun's  meridian  beam, 
.Calls    from    the    neighbouring    hills   obfequious 

fpringp, 

Which  led  in  winding  currents  through  the  mead, 
Cool  the  hot  foil,  refreih  the  thirfty  plain. 
While  wither'd  plants  reviving  fmile  around  ? 
But  fing,  O  mufe  !  the  twain,  the  happy  fwain, 
Whom  tafte  and  nature  leading  o'er  his  fields, 
Conduct  to  every  rural  beauty.     See  > 
Before  his  footfteps  winds  the  waving  walk, 
Here  gently  rifing,  there  defcending  flow 
Through  the  tall  grove,  or  near  the  water's  brink 
Where  flowers  beiprinkled  paint  theflieivin^bank, 
And  weeping  willows  bend,  to  kifs  the  ftream. 
Now  wandering  o'er  the  lawn  he  roves,  and  now 
Beneath  the  hawthorn's  fecret  ihade  reclines: 
Where  purple  violets  hang  the.ir  bafhful  heads, 
Where  yellow  cowflips,  and  the  blufhing  pink, 
Their  mingled  fweets,  and  lovely  hues  combine. 
Here,    Ihelter'd   from  the  north,  his  ripening 
fruits 


*  Toe  cfftffrs  on  board  the  Spanifi  fleet,  in  1588, 
failed  the  Invincible  Armada,  had  it  in  their  or- 
ders,  if  they  rovld  not  fubdue  the  ifland,  at  leaft 
to  dc/lrcy  the  for  eft  of  Dean,  which  is  in  the  neigb- 
river 


Difplay  their  fweet  temptation*  from  the  wall,, 
Or  from  the  gay  efpalier:  while  below, 
rlis  various  efculents,  from  glowing  beds, 
Give  the  fair  promil'e  of  delicious  feafts. 

There  from  his  forming  hand  new  fcenes  arife,. 
The  fair  creation  of  his  fancy's  eye. 
L.O  '.  boibm'd  in  the  folemn  fhady  grove, 
Whofe  reverend  branches  wave  on  yonder  hill, 
He  views  the  mots-grown  temple's  ruin'd  tower, 
Cover'd  with  creeping  ivy's  clufter'd  leaves; 
The  manfion  feeraing  of  tome  rural  god. 
Whom  nature's  chorifters,  in  untaught  hymns 
Of  wild  yet  fweeteft  harmony,  adore. 
From  the  bold  brow  of  that  afpiring  deep. 
Where  hang  the  nibbling  flocks,  and  view  below- 
Their  downward  fliadows  in  the  grafTy  wave, 
What  pleafing  landfcapes  fpread  before  his  eye  ! 
Of  fcatter'd  villages,  and  winding  ftreams, 
And  meadows  green,  and  woods,  and  diftant  fpires,. 
Seeming,  above  the  blue  horizon's  bound, 
To  prop  the  canopy  of  Heav'n.     Now  loft 
Amid't  a  glooming  wildernefs  of  fhrubs, 
The  golden  orange,  arbute  ever  green, 
The  early-blooming  almond,  feathery  pine, 
Fair  *  opulus,  to  fpring,  to  autumn  dear, 
And  the  fweet  (hades  of  varying  verdure,  caught 
From  loft  Acacia's  gently-waving  branch, 
Heedlefs  he  wanders  :  while  the  grateful  fcents. 
Of  (Weet-briar,  roles,  honeyfuckles  wild, 
Regale  the  fmell ;  and  to  th'  enchanted  eye 
Mezereon's  purple,  lauruftiaus*,  white, 
And  pale  laburnum's  pendent  flowers  difplay 
Their  different  beauties,     O'er  the  fmooth-fhor% 

grafs 

His  lingering  footfteps  leifurely  proceed, 
In  meditation  deep  :— When,  hark  !  the  found 
Of  diftant  water  fteals  upon  his  ear; 
And  Hidden  opens  to  his  paufing  eye 
The  rapid  rough  cafcade,  from  the  rude  rock 
Down  daflmig  in  a  ftream  of  lucid  foam  : 
Then  glides  away,  rneartdring  o'er  the  lawn> 
A  liquid  furface  ;  finning  feen  afar, 
At  intervals,  beneath  the  fhadowy  trees; 
Till  loft  and  bury'd  in  the  diftant  grove. 
Wrapt  into  facred  mufing,  he  reclines 
Beneath  the  covert  of  embowering  (hades; 
And,  painting  to  his  mind  the  buftling  fcencs 
Of  pride  and  bold  ambition,  pities  kings. 

Genius  of  gardens  !  nature's  faireft  child  t 
Thou  who,  infpir'd  by  the  directing  mind 
Of  Heaven,  did'ft  plan  the  fcenes  of  Paradife  ! 
Thou  at  whole  bidding  role  th'  Hefperian  bowers 
Of  ancient  fame,  the  fair  Aonian  mount, 
Caftalian  fprings,  and  all  th'  enchanting  groves 
Of  Tempe's  vale  :  O  where  haft  thou  been  hid  ? 
For  ages  where  have  (tray'd  thy  fteps  unknown  ? 
Welcome  at  length,  thrice  welcome  to  the  fliorc 
Of  Britain's  beauteous  ifle  ;  where  verdant  plains, 
Where  hills  and  dales,  and  woods  and  waters  join, 
To  aid  thy  pencil,  favour  thy  defigns, 
And  give  thy  varying  landfcapes  every  charm. 
Drive  then  f  Batavia's  monfters  from  our  {hades; 

*   The  gelder  rofe- 

f  The  tafte  for  ftrait  lines,  regular  platforms, 
and  dipt  trees,  was  imported  frdrn  Holland  at  the 
Re-volution- 

3 


?    9  "P.    M    S. 

let  uiihallow-'d  (hears  profane  the  foim, 
Which  Heaven's  cv.n  hand, with  fymmetry  divine, 
Hath  given  to  all  the  vegetable  tribes. 
linnilh"  the  regular  deformity 
Oi'  plans  by  Lac  and  compafs,  rules  abhorr'd 
In  nature's  frte  plantations  ;  and  reflore 
Its  pleafing  wildnefs  to  the  garden  walk  ; 
The  cairn  lerene  recefs  of  thoughtful  man, 
In  meditation's  filent  facred  hour. 

And  lo  !   the  progrefs  of  thy  fteps  appears 
In  fair  improvements  fcatter'd  round  the  land, 
Earlicft  in  Chifwick's  beauteous  model  feen  : 
'There  thy  firil  favourite,  in  the  happy  fhadc 
To  nature  introduc'd,  the  goddefs  woo'd, 
And  m  fweet  rapture  there  enjoy'd  her  charms. 
Li  Richmond's  venerable  woods  and  wilds, 
The  calm  retreat,  where  weary'd  majetty, 
Unbending  from  his  cares  for  Britain's  peace, 
Steals  a  few  moments  to  indulge  his  own. 
On    Oatland's   brew,   where    grandeur    fit*   en- 

thron'd, 

Smiling  on  beauty.     In  the  lovely  vale 
Of  iifher,  where  the  Mole  glides  lingering,  loth 
To  leave  fuch  fcenes  of  fweet  fimplicity. 
tin  *  Woburn's  ornamented  fields,  where  gay 
Variety,  where  mingled  lights  and  fhades, 
Where  lawns  ar.d  groves,  and  opening  profpcdls 

break, 

With  fweet  furprife,  upon  the  wandering  eye. 
On  Hagley's  lulls,  irregular  and  wild, 
Where  through  romantic  fcenes  of  hanging  woods, 
And  vallies  green,  and  rocks,  and  hollow  dales, 
While  echo  talks,  and  nymphs  and  dryads  play, 
Thou  rov'fl  enamour'd  ;  leading  by  the  hand 
Its  mailer,  who,  infpir'd  with  all  thy  art, 
Adds  bcautks  to  what  nature  plann'd  fo  fair. 

Hail  fweet  retirement !  Wifdom's  peaceful  feat! 
Where  lifted  from  the  crowd,  and  calmly  plac'd 
Beyond  the  deafening  roar  of  human  flrife, 
Th'  f  Athenian  fage  his  happy  followers  taught, 
That  plsafure  fprang  from  virtue.    Graciou*  Hea 
ven  ! 

How  worthy  thy  divine  beneficence. 
This  fair  eftablifh'd  truth  !  ye  blifsful  bowers, 
Ye  vocal  groves  whoi'c  echoes  caught  his  lore, 

0  might  I  hear,  through  time's  long  trad  con- 

vey'd. 

The  moral  ieffons  taught  beneath  your  fhades! 
And  lo,  tianfported  te  the-  facred  i'cenes, 
Such  the 'divine  enchantment  of  the  mufe, 

1  fee  the  fage  ;  I  hear,  1  hear  his  voice. 

"  The  end  of  life  is  happinefs  ;  the  means 
"  That  end  to  gain,  fair  virtue  gives  alone. 
"  From  the  vain  phantoms  or  delufive  fear, 
"  Or  ftrong  deCre's  intemp'rance,  fpring  the  woe 
"  Which  human  life  embitter.     Oh,  my  ions, 
"  From  error's  darkening  clouds,  from  groundlefs 

"  fear 

"  Enfeebling  all  her  powers,  with  early  fkill, 
"  Clear  the  bewilcler'd  mind.     Let  fortitude 
«'  Eftablifh  in  your  breads  her  ftedfafl  throne ; 
"  So  fliall  the  flings  of  evil  fix  no  wound  : 
"  Nor  dread  of  poverty,  nor  pain,  nor  grief, 

*   Mr.  Soi'tbtotf's. 

•j-  Epicurus,  'ivhn,  on  account  of  teaching  in  his  gar- 
fcn, was  called  the  Garden  Pliilofepbcr ;  and  hi; 
r  of  ibf  Qardeu, 


Nor  life's  difafters,  nor  tnc  fear  of  de-ath, 
Shake  the  jufl  purpole  of  your  fteady  1'cuis. 
The  golden  curb  of  tetnp'rancc  next  prepare, 
To  rein  th'  impetuous  failles  of  dcfire. 
He  who  the  kindling  fparks  of  anger  checks 
Shall  m  'er  with  fruitlcfs  ttars  in  vain  lament 
Its  flame's  deftruftive  rape.    Who  from  the  Tale 
Ambition's  dangerous  pinnacle  furveys  ; 
Safe  from  die  blafl  which  flukes  the  towering 

"  pile, 

Enjoys  lecurc  repofc,  nor  dreads  the  ftorm 
When  public  clamours  rife.    Who  cautious  turn* 
From  lewd  temptation  fmiling  in  the  eye 
Of  wantonnefs  hath  burft  the  golden  band* 
Of  future  onguifu;  hath  redeem'd  his  frame- 
Prom  eaily  feeblenefs,  and  dire  difcafe. 
Who  let  the  griping  hand  of  av'rice  pinch 
To  narrow  felfifhncfs  the  focial  heart  ; 
Excludes  fair  friendfhip,  charity,  and  lore, 
From  their  divine  exertions  in  his  brra'l. 
And  fee,  my  friends,  this  garden's  little  bound, 
So  fmall  the  wants  of  nature,  well  fuppiics 
Our  board  with  plenty;  loots,  or  who'efomc- 

"  pulfe,  [ftreant 

Or  herbs,  or  flavour'  d  fruits:   and  from  the 
The  hand  of  moderation  fills  a  cup, 
To  thirft  delicious.    Hence  nor  fevers  rife, 
Nor  furieits,  nor  the  boiling  blood,  inflam'J 
With  turbid  violence,  the  veins  diftend*. 
Hear  then,  and  weigh  the  moment  of  my  wordv 
Who  thus  the  fenfual  appetites  reftrain, 
Enjoy  the  *  heavenly  Venus  of  thefe  (hades, 
Celeftial  pieafure  ;  tranquil  and  fccure, 
From  pain,  difcafe,  ana  anxious  trouble*  free, 

CANTO  III. 


Of  hay-making.  A  method  of  preferring  hay  fro?«. 
being  mow-burnt,  or  taking  fire.  Of  harvcft, 
and  the  harvefl-home.  The  praifes  of  England 
with  regard  to  its  various  products.  Apples. 
Hops.  Hemp.  Flax.  Coals.  Fuller's-earth. 
Stone.  Lead.  Tin.  Iron.  Dyer's  herb*.  Ef- 
tulems.  Medicinal*.  Tranfit  ions  from  the  cul 
tivation  of  the  earth  to  the  care  of  fheep,  cattle, 
and  horfrs.  Of  feeding  flicep.  Of  their  dif- 
eafes.  Sheep-fliearinj.  Of  improving  the 
breed.  Of  the  dairy  and  its  produces.  Of 
hones.  The  dranght-horfe—  road-horfr—  hun 
ter  —  nee  horfe  —  and  war-horfe.  Concluding 
with  an  addrels  to  the  Prince  to  prefer  the  art« 
of  peace  to  thofc  of  war. 

\YiiiLr.  thus  at  cafe,  beneath  embellift'd  fhade*, 
We  rove  delighted  ;  lo  !  the  ripening  mead 
Calls  forth  the  labouring  hinds     In  flaming  row% 
With  ftiil-approaching  Hep,  and  levell'd  ftroke 
The  early  ruower,  bending  o'er  his  fcythe, 
Lays  low  the  (lender  graft  ;  emblem  of  man, 
Falling  beneath  the  ruthleli  hand  of  time. 
Then  follows  blithe,  equipt  with  fork  and  rake. 
In  light  array,  the  train  of  nymphs  and  fwainw 
Wide  o'er  the  fidd,  their  labour  fecaiim;  fport. 

•    //<  plectJ  in  /'it  ^rtlfit  a  fatue  ./  tlx 
Celt/lit,  iMcl  pnla'oly  'it  migll  >*tt* 

kv:i<l{  »/  !•  it  JtOlrine. 


THE    WORKS    OF   BOBSLED. 


They  tofs  the  with<yirig  herbage.  "Light  it  flies, 
Borne  on  the  wings  of  zephyr;  whofe  foft  gale, 
Now  while  th*  afcending  iiin's  bright  beam  exhales 
The  grateful  fwcetnefs  of  the  new-mown  hay, 
Breathing  refrefhment,  fans  the  toiling  fwain. 
And  foon,  the  jocund  dale  and  echoing  hill 
Refound  with  merriment.     The  fimple  jeft, 
The  village  tale  of  fcandal,  and  the  taunts 
Of  rude  unpolifh'd  wit,  raife  fudden  burfts 
Of  laughter  from  beneath  the  fpreading  oak, 
"Where  thrown  at  eafe,  and  fheher'd  from  the  fun, 
The  plain  repaft  and  wholefome  bev'rage  cheer 
Their  fpirits.     Light  as  air  they  fpring,  renew'd, 
To  focial  labour :  foon  the  ponderous  wain 
Moves  flowly  onwards  with  its  fragrant  load, 
And  fwells  the  barn  capacious  :  or,  to  crown 
Their  toil,  large  tapering  pyramids  they  build, 
The  magazines  of  plenty,  to  enfure 
From  winter's  want  the  flocks,  and  lowing  herds. 

But  do  the  threat'ning  clouds  precipitate 
Thy  work,  and  hurry  to  the  field  thy  team, 
Ere  the  funSs  heat,  or  penetrating  wind, 
Hath  drawn  its  moifture  from  the  fading  grafs  ? 
Or  hath  the  burfting  fhower  thy  labours  drench' d 
With  fudden  inundatibn  ?  Ah,  with  care 
Accumulate  thy  load,  or  in  the  mow, 
Or  on  the  rifing  rick.     The  fmother'd  damps, 
Fermenting,  glow  within  ;  and  latent  fparks 
At  length  engender'd,  kindle  by  degrees, 
Till,  wide  and  wider  fpreading,  they  admit 
The  fatal  blaft,  which  inftantly  confumes, 
In  flames  refiftlefs,  thy  collected  flore. 
This  dire  difafter  to  avoid,  prepare 
A  hollow  baflcet,  or  the  concave  round 
Of  feme  capacious  vefiel ;  to  its  fides 
Affix  a  triple  cord :  then  let  the  fwains, 
Full  in  the  centre  of  thy  purpos'd  heap, 
Place  the  obtrufive  barrier ;  raifing  ftill 
As  they  advance,  by  its  united  bands, 
The  wide  machine.     Thus  leaving  in  the  midft 
An  empty  fpace  the  cooling  irir  draws  in, 
And  from  the  flame,  or  from  offenfive  taints 
Pernicious  to  thy  cattle,  faves  their  food. 

And  now  the  ruler  of  the  goiden  day, 
From  the  fierce  Lion  glows  with  heat  intenfe ; 
While  Ceres  in  the  ripening  field  looks  down 
In  fmilcs  benign.     Now  with  enraptur'd  eye, 
The  end  of  all  his  toil,  and  its  reward, 
The  farmer  views.     Ah,  gracious  Heaven !  at 
tend 

His  fervent  prayer  :  reflrain  the  temp«fl's  rage, 
The  dreadful  blight  difarm  ;  nor  in  one  blaft 
The  produces  of  the  labouring  year  deftroy ! 
Yet  vain  is  Heaven's  indulgence  ;  for  when  now 
In  ready  ranks  th'  impatient  reapers  ftand, 
Arm'd  with  the  fcythe  or  fickle  ;*— echoes  fhrill 
Of  winding  horns,  the  fhouts  and  hallowings  loud 
Of  huntfmen,  and  the  cry  of  opening  hounds, 
Float  in  the  gale  melodious,  but  invade 
His  frighted  fenfe  with  dread.  Near  and  more  near 
Th'  unwelcome  founds  approach ;  and  fudden  o'er 
His  fence  the  tall  ftag  bounds :  in  clofc  purfuit 
The  hunter  train,  on  many  a  noble  fteed, 
Undaunted  follow  ;  while  the  eager  pack 
Burft  unrefifted  through  the  yielding  hedge. 
In  vain,  unheard,  the  wretched  hind  exclaims : 
The  ruin  of  his  crop  in  vain  laments  : 
Peaf  to  his  cries,  they  travcrfe  the  ripe  field 


In  cruel  exultation  ;  trampling  down 
Beneath  their  feet,  in  one  fhort  moment's  fport, 
The  peace,  the  comfort  of  his  future  year. 
Unfeeling  wealth  !  ah,  when  wilt  thou  forbear 
Thy  infults,  thy  injuftice  to  the  poor  ? 
When  tafhe  the  blifs  of  nurfing  in  thy  breaft 
The  fweet  fenfations  of  humanity  ? 

Yet  all  are  not  dcftroycrs  :  feme  unfpoil'd 
By  fortune,  ftill  preferve  a  feeling  heart. 
And  fee  the  yellow  fields,  with  labourers  fpread, 
Refign  their  treafures  to  the  reaper's  hand. 
Here  ftands  in  comely  order  on  the  plain, 
And  clufter'd  fheafs,  the  king  of  golden  corn, 
Unbearded  wheat,  fupport  of  human  life  : 
There  rifes  in  round  heaps  the  maltfler's  hope, 
Grain  which  the  reaper's  care  folicits  beft 
By  tempting  promifes  of  potent  beer, 
The  joy,  the  meed  of  thirfc-creat:ng  toil : 
The  poor  man's  *  clammy  fare  the  fickle  reaps ; 
The  fteed 's  light  provender  obeys  the  fcythe. 
Labour  and  mirth  united,  glow  beneath 
The  mid-day  fun  ;  the  laughing  hinds  rejoice  : 
Their  mafter's  heart  is  open'd,  and  his  eye 
Looks  with  indulgence  on  the  gleaning  poor, 
At   length,   adorn'd  with   boughs   and   garland* 

gay, 

Nods  the  laft  load  along  the  fhouting  field. 
Now  to  the  God.of  harveft  in  a  fong 
The  grateful  farmer  pays  accepted  thanks, 
With  joy  unfeign'd :  while  to  his  ravifh'd  ear 
The  gratulations  of  affifting  fwains, 
Are  mufic.     His  exulting  foul  expends:  i 
He  prcffes  every  aiding  hand  ;  he  bids 
The  plenteous  feaft,  beneath  fome  fpreading  tree, 
Load  the  large  board  ;  and  circulates  the  bowl, 
The  copious  bowl,  unmeafur'd,  unreftrain'd, 
A  free  libation  to  th'  immortal  gods, 
Who  crown  with  plenty  the  prolific  foil. 

Hail,  favour'd  ifland  !  happy  region,  hail! 
Whofc  temperate  fkies,  mild  air,  and  genial  dews, 
Enrich  the  fertile  glebe ;  blefling  thy  fons 
With  various  products,  to  the  life  of  man 
Indulgent.     Thine  Pomona's  choiceft  gift, 
The  tafteful  apple,  rich  with  racy  juice, 
Theme  of  thy  envy'd  fong,  Silurian  bard^ 
Affording  to  th«  fwains,  in  fparkling  cups, 
Delicious  bev'rage.     Thine,  on  Cantium's  hills, 
The  flow'ry  hop,  whofe  tendrils  climbing  round 
The  tall  afpiring  pole,  bear  their  light  heads 
Aloft,  in  pendant  clufters  ;  which  in  malt's 
Fermenting  tuns  infus'd,  to  mellow  age 
Preferves  the  potent  draught.    Thine  to  the  plant, 
To  whofe  tough  ftringy  ftalks  thy  num'rous  fleets 
Owe  their  ftrong  cordage  :  with  her  filler  fteni, 
Her  fairer  fifler,  whence  Minerva'sf  tribe, 
T'  enfold  in  foftnefs  beauty's  lovely  limbs, 
Prefent  their  woven  texture  :  and  from  whence, 
A  fecond  birth,  grows  the  papyrean  \  leaf, 
A  tablet  firm,  on  which  the  painter  bard 

*  £ye,  of  irb'.cb  is  made  a  coarfc  clammy  kind  »f 
bread,  vfed  by  the  foe  rer  pec  fie  in  many  farts  oj  £•;>£- 
land,  on  account  of  its  cbeapnefs. 

+  R/Lincriia.  is  faid  to  bane  invented  the  art  of 
'weaving, 

\  The  leaf  of  tic  Egyptian  pltvt,  papyrus,  ivas  an 
ciently  ufcd  Jur  "!iriti//g  upon  ;  from  ii/jenee  is  denvcJ 
'be  pi  '.'fent  name  nf  our  materiel  tailed  fapejr^ 


POEMS. 


Delineates  thought}  and  to  the  wondering  eye 
Embodies  vocal  air,  and  groups  the  found. 

With  various  bleflings  teems  thy  fruitful  womb. 
Lo  !  from  the  depth  of  many  a  yawning  mine, 
Thy  foffil  treafures  rife.     Thy  blazing  hearths, 
From  deep  fulphureous  pits,  confumelefs  ftores 
Of  fuel  boaft.     The  oil-imbibing  *  earth, 
The  fuller's  mill  aflifting,  fafe. defies 
Ail  foreign  rivals  in  the  clothier's  art. 
The  builder's  ftone  thy  numerous  quarries  hide ; 
\\"ir.h  lime,  its  clofe  concomitant.      The  hills, 
The  barren  hills  of  Derby's  wildeft  peak, 
In  lend  abound ;  loft,  fufile^  malleable  ; 
Whole  ample  ilieets  thy  venerable  domes, 
From  rough  inclement  Itorms  of  wind  and  rain, 
In  fafety  clothe.     Devona's  ancient  mines, 
V/hofe  treafures  tempted  firft  Phoenicia's  fons 
To  court  thy  commerce,  ftill  exhauftlefs,  yield 
The  valued  ore,  from  whence,  Britannia,  thou 
Thine  honour'd  f  name  deriv'ft.  Nor  want'ft  thou 
Of  that  all-ufeful  metal,  the  fupport  [ftore 

Of  ev'ry  art  mechanic.     Hence  arife 
In  Dean's  large  foreft  numerous  glowing  kilns, 
The  rough  rude  ore  calcining;  whence  convey'd 
To  the  fierce  furnace,  its  intenfer  heat 
Melts  the  hard  mafs  ;  which  flows  an  iron  ftream, 
On  fandy  beds  below  :  and  ftirfening  there, 
A  ponderous  lump,  but  to  the  hammer  tam'd, 
Takes  from  ths  forge,  in  bars,  its  final  form. 

But  the  glad  mufe,  from  fubterranean  caves 
Emerging,  views  with  wonder  and  delight, 
What  numerous  produces  ftill  remain  unfung. 
With  fim  abound  thy  ftreams;  thy  flickering  woods 
To  fowl  give  friendly  covert ;  and  thy  plains 
The  cloven-footed  race,  in  various  herds, 
Range  undilturb'd.     Fair  Flora's  fweeteft  buds 
Biow  on  thy  beauteous  bofom ;  and  her  fruits 
Pomona  pours  in  plenty  on  thy  lap. 

Thou  to  the  dyer's  tinging  cauldron  giv'fl 
The  yellow-ftaining  weed,  f  luteola; 
The  ||  glaftum  brown,  with  which  thy  naked  fons 
In  ancient  time  their  hardy  limbs  diftain'd  ; 
Nor  the  rich  §  rubia  does  thine  hand  withhold. 

*  Fuller's  earth  is  found  in  no  other  country  ;  and 
as  it  is  of fo  great  a  ufe  inthe  manufafiuringof  cloth, 
the  exportarion  of  it  is  prohibited.  Dr.  Woodward 
fays  this  fojfil  is  of  more  value  to  England  than 
the  mines  of  Peru  would  be.  , 

t  'The  learned  antiquary,  Bochart,  is  of  opinion, 
that  the  Phoenicians,  coming  to  buy  tin  in  the  ifland 
of  Albion, gave  it  the  name  of  Barat-Anac,  that  is, 
the  Land  or  country  of  Tin  ;  which  being  foftened 
by  the  Greeks  intjo  Britannia,  was  adopted  by  the 
Romans.  This  etymology  feems  to  be  confirmed  by 
the  Grecians  calling  the  ijles  of  Sicily,  CaJJiterides, 
•which  Jigxifies  in  Greek,  the  fame  as  Barat-Anac 
ill  Phoenician.  RAPIN. 

|  Weld,  commonly  called  Dyer's  Wood. 
Jl   Woad. 

\  Madder,  which  is  ufed  by  the  dyert  for  making 
the  mojlfolidandrichejlred;  and  as  Mortimer  «b- 
fer--ues,  'was  thought  fo  valuable  in  King  Charles  the 
Firjfs  time,  that  it  was  made  a  patent  commodity. 
But  the  cultivation  of  it  hatbfmce  be  e  nfo  ftrange- 
ly  negleiled,  that  <we  now  purchafe from  the  Dutch 
ebcgreateftpariofwhatwejtfe,  to  the  amount 


Grateful  and  falutary  fpring  the  plants 
Which  crown  thy  numerous  gardens,  and  invite. 
To  health  and  temperance,  in  the  fimple  meal 
Unftain'd  with  murder,  undefil'd  with  blood,  ' 
Unpoifon'd  with  rich  fauces,  to  provoke 
Th*  unwilling  appetite  to  gluttony. 
For  this,  the  bulbous  efculents  their  roots 
With  fweetnefs  fill ;  for  this,  with  cooling  juice 
The  green  herb  fpreads  its  leaves;  and  opening 

buds, 

And  flowers  and  feeds,  with  various  flavours  tempt 
Th'  enfanguin'd  palate  from  its  favage  feaft. 

Nor  hath  the  god  of  phyfic  and  of  day 
Forgot  to  flied  kind  influence  on  thy  plant* 
Medicinal.    Lo  !  from  his  beaming  rays 
Their  various  energies  to  every  herb 
Imparted  flow.     He  the  falubrious  leaf 
Of  cordial  fage,  the  purple-flowering  head 
Of  fragrant  lavendar,  enlivening  mint, 
Valerian's  fetid  fmell,  endows  benign 
With  their  cephalic  virtues.    He  the  root 
Of  broad  angelica,  and  tufted  flower 
Of  creeping  chamomile,  impregnates  deep 
With  powers  carminative.     In  every  brake 
Wormwood  and  centaury,  their  bitter  juice, 
To  aid  digeftion's  fickly  powers,  refine. 
The  fmooth  *  althaea  its  balfamic  wave 
Indulgent  pours.    Eryngo's  ftrengthening  root 
Surrounds  thy  fea-girt  ifle,  reftorative, 
Fair  queen  of  love,  to  thy  enfeebled  fons. 
t  Hypericum,  beneath  each  fhelt'ring  bufli, 
Its  healing  virtue  modeftly  conceals. 
Thy  friendly  foil  to  liquorice  imparts 
Its  dulcet  moifture,  whence  the  labouring  lung* 
Of  panting  afthma  find  a  fure  relief. 
The  fcarlet  poppy,  on  thy  painted  fields, 
Bows  his  fomnkferous  head,  inviting  foon 
To  peaceful  flumber  the  diforder'd  mind. 
Lo,  from  the  baum's  exhilarating  leaf, 
The  moping  fiend,  black  melancholy,  flies ; 
And  burning  febris,  with  its  lenient  flood 
Cools  her  hot  entrails ;  or  embathes  her  limbs 
In  fudorific  ftreams,  that  cleanfing  flow       [boaft 
From  farfron's  friendly  fpring.     lliou  too  can'ik 
The  |  blefled  thiftle,  whole  rejeclive  power 
Relieves  the  loaded  vifcera  ;  and  to  thee 
The  rofe,  the  violet  their  emolient  leaves  . 
On  every  bufli,  on  every  bank,  difplay. 

Thefe  are  thy  produces,  fair  Britannia,  thefe 
The  copious  bleffings,  which  thy  envy'd  fons 
Divided  and  diftinguifh'd  from  the  world, 
Secure  and  free,  beneath  juft  laws,  enjoy. 
Nor  dread  the  ravage  of  deftrndlive  war; 
Nor  black  contagion's  peftilential  breath ; 
Nor  rending  earth's  convulfians, — fields,  flocks, 

towns, 

Swallow'd  abrupt,  in  ruin's  frightful  jaws; 
Nor  worfe,  far  worfe  than  all,  the  iron  hand 
Of  lawlefs  power,  ftretch'd  o'er  precarious  wealth, 

at  Mr.  Millar,  in  bis  Gardiner"  t  Di8ionary,faytt 
be  hath  been  informed,  of  near  thirty  tbouj'antt 
pounds  a-year. 

*  MarJh-mallo<u.'S. 

t  Car  duns,  called  by  ply  fir  al  writers,  C.irduttt 


THE   WORKS   OF  DODSLEV1. 


Lands,  liberty,  and  life,  the  wanton  prey 
Of  its  enorrut  us,  unrelilted  gripe. 

But  further  now  in  vegetation's  paths,     [crops, 
Through  cultur'd  fields,  and  woods,  and  waving 
The  weary'd  mufe  forbears  to  wind  her  walk. 
To  flocks  and  herds  her  future  drains  afpire, 
And  let  the  littering  hinds  inftructed  hear 
The  doling  precepts  of  her  labour'd  fong. 

Lo  L  on  the  other  fide  you  ilanting  hill, 
Seneath  a  fpreading  oak's  broad  foliage,  fits 
The  Ihepherd  fwain,  and  patient  by  his  fide 
His  xvatchful  dog;  while  round  the  nibbling  flocks 
Spread  their  white  fleeces  o'er  the  verdant  dope, 
A  landfcape  pkafing  to  the  painter's  eye. 
'  Mark  his  maternal  care.      I  he  tender  race, 
Of  heat  impatient,  as  of  pinching  cold 
Afraid,  he  fheiters  from  the  rifing  fun, 
Beneath  the  mountain's  weftern  fide;  and  when 
The  evening  beam  (hoots  eaftward,  turning  leeks 
Th'  alternate  umbrage.      Now  to  the  fweeteft 

food 

Of  fallow  fields  he  leads,  and  nightly  folds, 
T*  enrich  th'  exhaufted  foil :  defending  fafe    [fox, 
From  murd'rous  thieves,  and  from  the  prowling 
Their  helplefs  innocence.     His  flulful  eye 
Studious  explores  the  latent  ills  which.prey 
Upon  the  bleating  nation.     The  foul  mange 
Infectious,  their  impatient  foot,  by  oft 
Repeated  fcratchings,  will  betray.     This  calls 
For  his  immediate  aid,  the  fpreading  taint    < 
To  ftop.     Tobacco,  in  the  briny  wave 
Infus'd,  affords  a  wafli  of  fovereign  ul'e 
To  heal  the  dire  difeafe.     Tke  wriggling  tail 
Sure  indication  gives,  that,  bred  beneath, 
Devouring  vermin  lurk  :  rhefe,  or  with  duft   , 
Or  deaden'd  lime  befprinkled  thick,  fall  off 
In  fmothered  crowds.    Difeafes  numerous 
Affault  the  harmlefs  race  :  but  the  chief  fiend 
Which  taints  with  rottennefs  their  inward  frame, 
And  fweeps  them  from  the  plain  in  putrid  heaps, 
A  nuifance  to  the  froell.     This,  this  demands 
His  watchful  care.     If  he  perceives  the  fleece 
In  patches  loft;  if  the  dejected  eye 
Looks  pale  and  languid  ;  if  the  rofy  gums 
Change  to  a  yellow  foulnefs ;  and  the  breath, 
Panting  and  fliort,  emits  a  fickly  ftench  ; 
Warn'd  by  the  fatal  fymptoms,  he  removes 
To  rifing  grounds  and  dry,  the  tainted  flock; 
The  belt  expedient  to  reftore  that  health 
Which  the  full  p'afture,  or  the  low  damp  moor 
Endanger'd.     But  if  bare  and  barren  hills, 
Or  dry  and  fandy  plains,  too  far  remov'd, 
Deny  their  aid  :  he  fpeedily  prepares 
Rue's  bitter  juice,  with  brine  and  brimftone  mix'd, 
A  powerful  remedy  ;  which  from  an  bora 
Injefted,  Hops  the  dangerous  malady. 

Refulgent  fummer  now  his  Kbt  domain 
Hath  carried  to  the  tropic,  and  begins 
His  backward  journey.     Now  beneath  the  fun 
Mellowing  their  fleeces  for  th'  impending  fhears, 
The  woolly  people  in  full  clothing  fweat : 
When  the  fmooth  current  of  a  limpid  brook 
The  fliepherd  feeks,  and  plunging  in  its  waves 
The  frighted  innocents,  their  whitening  robes 
In  the  clear  (beam  grow  pure.     Emerging  hence, 
iuer'd  ftraw  the  bleating  Socks  tes&ie. 


Till  glowing  heat  fhalldry,  and  breathing  detqf 
Perfpiring  loft,  again  through  all  the  rleece 
Diffut'e  their  oily  fatnefs.     Then  the  fwain 
Prepares  th'  elaftic  fhears,  and  gtaitly  down 
The  patient  creature  lays;  diverting  loon 
Its  li^hten'd  limbs  of  their  encumbering  load. 

O  more  than  mines  of  gold,  than  diamonds  far 
More  precious,  more  important  is  the  fleece  1 
This,  this  the  iolid  bafe  on  which  the  fons 
Of  commerce  build,  exalted  to  the  Iky,     [power  I 
The  ftruclure   of  their   grandeur,    wealth,    and 
Hence  in  the  earlieft  childhood  of  her  ftate, 
Ere  yet  her  merchants  fpread  the  Britifh  fail, 
To  earth  descending  in  a  radiant  cleud, 
Britannia  feiz'd  th'  invaluable  fpoil. 
To  ocean  s  verge  exulting  fwift  the  flew  ; 
There,  on  the  bofom  of  the  bounding  wave, 
tt.ais'd  on  her  pearly  car,  fair  commerce  rode 
Sublime,  the  goddefs  of  the  wat'ry  world, 
On  every  coait,  and  every  clime  ador'd. 
High  waving  in  her  hand  the  woolly  prize* 
Britannia  hail'd  and  beckon'd  to  her  fliore 
The  power  benign.     Invited  by  the  fleece, 
From  whence  her  penetrating  pyes  forefaw 
What  mighty  honours  to  her  name  fliould  rife, 
She  beam'd  a  gracious  fmile.  Th' obedient  winds^- 
Rein'd  by  her  hand,  conducted  to  the  beach 
Her  fumptuous  car.     But  more  convenient  place 
The  mufe  fliall  find,  to  fing  the  friendly  league, 
Which  here  commenc'd,  to  time's  remoteft  age, 
Shall  bear  the  glory  of  the  Britifh  fail. 

Cautious  and  fearful,  forae  in  early  fpring 
Recruit  their  flocks  ;  as  then  the  wint'ry  Itorms 
The  tender  frame  hath  prov'd.    But  he  whofe  au» 
Ambitious  fliould  afpire  to  mend  the  breed, 
In  fruitful  autumn  Itocks  the  bleating  field 
With  buxom  ewes,  that,  to  their  foft  defires 
Indulgent,  he  may  give  the  nobleft  rams. 
Yet  not  too  early  in  the  genial  fport 
Invite  the  modelt  ewe  ;  let  Michael's  feaft 
Commemorate  the  deed  ;  left  the  cold  hand 
Of  winter  pinch  too  hard  the  new-yean'd  lamk.- 

How  nice,  how  delicate  appears  his  choice, 
When  fixing  on  the  fire  to  raife  his  flock  ! 
His  fliape,  his  marks,  how  curious  he  furveysi 
His  body  l<srge  and  deep,  his  buttocks  broad 
Give  indication  of  internal  ftrength  } 
Be  Ihort  his  legs,  yet  active ;  fmall  his  head  ; 
So  fhall  Lucina's  pains  lefs  pungent  prove. 
And  lefs  the  hazard  of  the  teeming  ewe  1 
Long  be  his  tail,  and  large  his  wool-grown  ear; 
Thick,  fhining,  white,  his  fleece  ;  his  hazel  eye 
Large,  bold,  and  cheerful ;  and  his  horns,  if  horns. 
You  choofe,  not  ltrait>   but  curving   round  and 

round 

On  either  fide  his  head.     Thefe  the  fole  arms 
His  inoflenfive  mildnefs  bears,  not  made 
For  fhedding  blood,  nor  holtile  war  :  yet  thefe, 
When  love,  all-powerful,  fwells  his  breaft,  ant< 

pours 

Into  his  heart  new  courage,  thefe  he  aims, 
With  meditated  fury  at  his  foe. 

In  glowing  colours,  here  the  tempted  mufe 
Might  paint  the  rulhing  conflict,  when  provok'd, 
The  rival  rams,  oppwfing  front  to  front, 
Spring  forth  witU  dcfpsiate  niadnefs  to  the  £gh£ 


O    E    M    S. 


'But  63  deterr'd  by  the  fuperior  bard, 
Whofe  fteps,  ar  awful  dilt  ance,  1  revere, 
Nor  dare  to  tread;  fo  by  the  thundering  ftrife 
Of  bis  majedic  fathers  of  the  herd, 
My  feebler  Combatants  appall'd  retreat. 
At  leifure  now,  O  let  me  once  again, 
Once,  ere  1  leave  the  cultivated  fields, 
My  favourite  Fatty,  in  her  dairy's  ptide, 
Revifit ;  and  the  gsnerous  deeds  which  grace 
The  paduresoi her  fwain,  well-pleas'd,  furvey. 
The  lowing  kine,  fee,  at  their  'cuftom'd  hour, 
\Va.t  the  muming  paiL     The  rofy  maid. 
Crouching  beneath  their  fide,  in  copious  dreams 
Exhauft  the  fwelling  udder.     Veffcls  large 
And  broad,  by  the  fwect  hand  of  neatuefs  clcan'd. 
Meanwhile,  in  decent  order  rang'd  appear, 
The  milky  treafuie,    ftrain'd   through  filtering 

lawn, 

Intended  to  receive.   At  early  day, 
Sweet  dumber  fhak.cn  from  her  opening  lidi, 
My  lovely  Patty  io  her  dairy  hies : 
There  from  the  liirface  of  expanded  bowls 
She  {kirns  the  floating  cream,  and  to  her  churn 
Commits  the  rich  confidence;  nor  difdains, 
Though  loft  her  hand,  though  delicate  her  frame, 
To  urge  the  rural  toil ;  fond  to  obtain 
The  country-houfewife's  humble  name  and  praife, 
Continu'd  agitation  feparates  foon 
The  unctuous  particles ;  with  gentler  drokes, 
And  artful,  foon  they  coalefce  :  at  length, 
Cool  water  pouring  from  the  limpid  fpring 
Into  a  fmooth-glaz'd  veffel,  deep  and  wide, 
She  gathers  the  loofe  fragments  to  an  heap ; 
Which  in  the  cleanfing  wave  well  wrought,  anc 

prefs'd 

To  one  confident  golden  mafs,  receives 
The  fprinklcd  feafoning,  and  of  parts,  or  pounds, 
The  fair  imprcflion,  the  neat  fhape  alfumes. 
Is  cheeic  her  care?    Warm  from  the  teat  fh 

pours 

The  milky  flood.    An  acid  juice  infus'd, 
From  the' dry' d  ftomach  drawn  of  fuckling  calf, 
Coagulates  the  whole.     Immediate  now 
Her  fpreading  hands  bear  down  the  gathering 

curd, 
Which  hard  and  harder  grows;    till,  clsar  anc 

thin, 

The  green  whey  rifes  feparate.    Happy  fwains ! 
O  how  1  envy  ye  the  lulcious  draught, 
The  foft  faiubrious  beverage  !  To  a  vat, 
The  Cze  and  fafhion  which  her  tafie  approves, 
She  bears  the  fnov/-white  heaps,  her  future  cheefe 
And  the  ft.ong  prefs  eftablifhes  its  form. 

But  nicer  cates,  her  dairy's  boafted  fare, 
The  jelly'd  cream,  or  cuflard,  dainti-id  food, 
Or  cheefecake,  or  the  cooling  fyllabub, 
For  ThyrCs  fhe  prepares;  who  from  the  field 
Returning,  with  the  kifs  of  love  fmcere, 
Salutes  her  rofy  lip.    A  tender  look, 
Meantime,  and  cheerful  fmiles,  his  welcome  fpcak 
Down  to  their  frugal  board  contentment  fits, 
And  calls  it  feafling.    Prattling  infants  dear 
Engage  their  fond  regard,  and  clofer  tie 
The  band  of  nuptial  Jove.    They,  happy,  feel 
Each  other's  blifs,  and  both  in  different  fpheres 
Employ'd,  nor  feek  nor  wifli  that  cheating  charm 
Variety,  which  idlers  to  their  aid 
Sail  in,  to  make  the  length  »f  lazy  lift 


>rag  on  lefs  hravily.   Domedic  earM, 
ier  children  and  her  dairy,  well  divide 
V  appropriated  hours,  and  duty  makes 
•'.mployment  pleafure.    He,  delighted,  give* 
Lach  bufy  feafon  of  the  rolling  year, 
f  s  raife,  to  feed,  t'  improve  the  gr neroas  horfe. 
And  fit  for  various  ufe  his  drength  of  fpccd. 
Dull,  patient,  heavy,  of  large  limbs  robud, 
iV'hom  neither  beauty  marks,  nor  fpirits  fire  j 
-lim,  to  the  fervile  toil  of  dragging  flow 
The  burden'd  carriage  ;  or  to  drudge  beneath 
A  ponderous  load  impos'd,  his  judicc  dooms. 
Yet,  draining  in  th'  enormous  cars  which  crowd" 
Thy  buftling  dreets,  Auguda,  queen  of  trade, 
What  noble  beads  are  feen  ?  fwealing  beneath 
Their  toil,  and  trembling  at  the  driver's  whip, 
Urg'd  with  malicious  fury  on  the  parts 
Where  feeling  lives  mod  fenfible  of  pain. 
Fell  tyrants,  hold  !  forbear  your  hell-born  rageh 
Sec  ye  not  every  finew,  every  nerve 
Stretch'd  even  to  burding  ?    Villains! — but  th» 

mule 

Q_uick  from  the  favage  ruffians  turns  her  eye, 
Frowning  indignant.     Steeds  of  hardier  kind, 
And  cool  though  fpritcly,  to  the  travell'd  road 
He  dedines;  fure  of  foot,  of  deady  pace, 
Active,  and  perfevering,  uncompell  d, 
The  tedious  length  of  many  a  beaten  mile. 

But  not  alone  to  thefe  inferior  tribes  • 
Th'  ambitious  fwain  confines  his  generous  breec?. 
Hark  !  in  his  fields,  when  now  the  didant  found* 
Of  winding  horns,  and  dogs,  and  huntfmen's  fhouf , 
Awake  the  fenfe,  his  kindling  hunter  neighs : 
Quick  dart  hfs  ears  erect,  his  beating  heart 
Exults,  his  light  limbs  bound,  he  bears  aloft, 
Rais'd  by  tumultuous  joy,  his  tofling  head ; 
And  all  impatient  for  the  well-known  fport, 
Leaps  the  tall  fence,  and  lidening  to  the  cry, 
Purfues  with  voluntary  fpeed  the  chafe. 
See !  o'er  the  plain  he  fwecps,  nor  hedge  nor  ditefc 
Obdructs  his  eager  flight ;  nor  draining  hills, 
Nor  headlong  deeps  deter  the  vigorous  deed : 
Till  join'd  at  length,  aflbciate  of  the  fport. 
He  mingles  with  the  train,  dops  as  they  dop, 
Purfues  as  they  purfue,  and  all  the  wild 
Enlivening  raptures  of  the  field  enjoys, 

Eafy  in  motion,  perfect  in  his  form, 
His  beaded  lineage  drawn  from  deeds  of  blootj. 
He  the  fleet  courier  too,  exulting  fhows, 
And  points  with  pride  his  beauties.     Neatly  Ctt 
His  lively  head,  and  glowing  in  his  eye 
Trye  fpirit  lives.     His  nodril  wide,  inhale* 
With  eafe  the  ambient  air.     His  body  firm 
And  round,  upright  his  joints,  his  horny  hoof* 
Small,  fhining,  light ;  and  large  his  ample  reach. 
His  limbs,  though  fleuder,  brac'd  with  tnewy 

ftrength, 

Declare  his  winged  fpeed.     His  temper  mild. 
Yet  high  his  mettled  heart.    Hence  in  the  race 
All  emulous,  he  hears  the  clafhing  whip* ; 
He  feels  the  animating  fliouts ;  exerts 
With  cagernefs  his  utmod  powers;  and  drams. 
And  fprings,  and  flies,  to  reach  the  dcdin'd  goal, 

But,  lo  !  the  boad,  the  glory  of  his  ftalh, 
Hi?  \varrior  deed  appears.    What  comely  pride. 
What  dignity,  what  grace,  attend  on  all 
His  motions  ?  Sec !  exulting  in  his  ftrrngth, 
Ho  paws  the  ground  impati«m.    On  hit  brow 


96 


THE   WORKS  OF   DODSLEY. 


Courage  enthroned  fits,  and  animates 
His  fearlefb  eye.     He  bends  his  arched  creft, 
His  mane  loofe-flowing,  ruffles  in  the  wind, 
Clothing  his  chefl  with  fury.     Proud,  he  fnorts, 
Champs  on  the  foaming  bit,  and  prancing  high, 
Difdainful  feems  to  tread  the  fordid  earth. 
Yet  hears  he  and  obeys  his  mafter's  voice, 
All  gentleneis  :  and  feels,  with  confcious  pride, 
His  dappled  neck  clapp'd  with  a  cheering  hand. 
But  when  the  battle's  martial  founds  invade 
His  ear,  when  drums  and  trumpets  loud  proclaim 
The  rufhing  onfet ;  when  thick  fmoke,  when  fire 
Burfts  thundering  from  the  cannon's  awful  mouth; 
Then  all  infpir'd  he  kindles  into  flame  ! 
Intrepid,  neighs  aloud ;  and,  panting,  feems 
Impatient  to  exprefs  his  fwelling  joys 
Unutterable.     On  danger's  brink  he  flands, 
And  mocks  at  fear.    Then  fpringing  with  delight, 
Plunges  into  the  wild  confufion.    Terror  flies 
Before  his  dreadful  front;  and  in  his  rear 
Deftruclion  marks  her  bloody  progrefs.    Such, 
Such  was  the  fteed  thou,  Cumberland,  befbrod'it, 
When  black  rebellion  fell  beneath  thy  hand, 
Rome  and  her  pupal  tyranny  fubdu'd, 
On  great  Culloden's  memorable  field. 
Such  thine,  unconquer'd  Marlborough,  when  the 

throne          .         • 

Of  Lewis  totter'd,  and  thy  glittering  fteel 
On  Blenheim's  plain  immortal  trophies  reap'd. 
And  fuch,  O  prince  !  great  patron  of  my  theme, 
Should  e'er  infidious  France  again  prefume 
On  Europe's  freedom,  fuch,  though  all  averfe 
To  flaughtering  war,  thy  country  fhall  prefent 
To  bear  her  hero  to  the  martial  plain, 
Arm'd  with  the  fword  of  juftice.     Other  caufe 
Ne'er  fhall  ambition's  fophiilry  perfuade 
Thine  honour  to  efpoufe.     Britannia's  peace  ; 
Her  facred  rights ;  her  juft,  her  equal  laws  ; 
Thefe,  thefe  alone,  to  chenfh  or  defend, 
Shallyaife  thy  youthful  arm,  and  wake  to  war, 
To  dreadful  war,  the  Britifh  lion's  rage. 

But  milder  ftars  on  thy  illuflrious  birth 
Their  kindeft  influence  filed.     Beneath  the  fmile 
Of  thy  indulgence,  the  protected  arts  ' 
Lifting  their  graceful  heads ;  her  envy'd  fail 
Fair  commerce  fpreading  to  remoteft  climes ; 
And  plenty  rifmg  from  th'  encourag'd  plough; 
Shall  feed,  enrich,  adorn,  the  happy  land. 

MELPOMENE : 

OR  THE 

REGIONS  OF  TERROR  AND  PITY. 


QUEEN  of  the  human  heaf  t !  at  whofe  command 

The  fwelling  tides  of  mighty  paffion  rife  ; 
Melpomane,  fupport  my  vent'rous  hand, 
And  aid  thy  lup pliant  in  his  bold  emprife ; 
From  the  gay  fcenes  of  pride 
Do  thou  his  footfteps  guide 
To  nature's  awful  courts,  where  nurfl  of  yore, 
Young  Shakfpeare,  fancy's  child,  was  taught  his 
various  lore. 

So  may  his  favour'd  eye  explore  the  fource, 
To  few  reveal'd,  whence  human  forrows  charm: 
4 


So  may  his  numbers,  with  pathetic  for  re, 
Bid  terror  (hake  us,  or  compafiion  warm, 
As  different  flrains  controul 
The  movements  of  the  foul ; 
Adjuft  its  paflions,  harmonize  its  tone  ; 
To  feel  for  others'  woe,  or  nobly  bear  its  own. 

Deep  in  the  covert  of  a  fhadowy  grove, 

"JVlid  broken  rocks  where  dafhing  currents 

play ; 

Dear  to  the  penfive  pleafures,  dear  to  love, 
And  Damon's  mufe,  that  breathes  her  melt 
ing  lay, 

1  his  ardent  prayer  was  rrtade  : 
When,  lo  !  the  fecret  fliade, 
As  confcious  of  fome  heavenly  prefence,  fhook — 
Strength,  firmnefs,  reafon,  all — my  aftonifh'd  foul 
forfook. 

Ah  !  whither  goddefs  !  whither  am  I  borne  ? 
To  what  wild  region's  necromantic  fhore  ? 
Thefe   panics   whence  ?   and   why   my   bofom 

torn 

With  fudden  terrors  never  felt  before  ? 
Darknefs  enwraps  me  round, 
While  from  the  vaft  profound 
Emerging  fpe<5tres  dreadful  fhapes  affume, 
And  gleaming  on  my  fight,  add  horror  to  the 
gloom. 

Ha  !  what  is  he  whofe  fierce  indignant  eye, 

Denouncing  vengeance,  kindles  into  flame  ? 
Whofe  boifterous  fury  blows  a  ftorm  fo  high, 
As  with   its   thunder  fhakes   his   labouring 

frame. 

What  can  fuch  rage  provoke  ? 
His  words  their  paffage  choke  : 
His  eager  fteps  nor  time  nor  truce  allow, 
And  dreadful  dangers  wait  the  menace  of  his  brow. 

Protect  me,  goddefs !  whence  that  fearful  fliriefc 

Of  confirmation  ?  as  grim  death  had  laid 
His  icy  fingers  on  fome  guilty  cheek, 

And  all  the  powers  of  manhood  fhrunk  dif- 

may'd : 

Ah  fee !  befmear'd  with  gore 
Revenge  ftands  threatening  o'er 
A  pale  delinquent,  whofe  retorted  eyes 
In  vain  for  pity  call — the  wretched  viclim  dies. 

Not  long  the  fpace — abandon'd  to  defpair, 

With  eyes  aghaft,  or  hopelefs  fix'd  on  earth, 
This  flave  of  paffion  rends  his  fcatter'd  hair, 
Beats  his  fad  breaft,  and  execrates  his  birth: 
While  torn  within  he  feels 
The  pangs  of  whips  and  wheels ; 
And  fees,  or  fancies,  ail  the  fiends  bejow 
Beckoning  his  frighted  foul  to  realms  of  endlefs 
woe. 

Before   my  wondering   fenfe    new  phantom* 
dance,  [brain— 

And   ftamp    their    horrid   fhapes   upon    my 
A  wretch  with  jealous  brow,  and  eyes  afcaunce» 
Feeds  all  in  fecret  on  his  bofom  pain. 
Fond  love,  fierce  hate  aflail ; 
Alternate  they  prevail : 

While  confcious  pride  and  fhame  with  rage  con- 

fpire,  [fire. 

And  urge  the  latent  fpark  to  flames  of  torturing 


POEMS. 


The  ftorm  proceeds — his  changeful  vifage  trace: 

From  rage  to  madnefs  every  feature  breaks. 
A  growing  frenzy  grins  upon  his  face, 

And  in  his  frighttui  ftare  diftraclion  fpeaks. 
His  ftraw-invefted  head 
Proclaims  all  reafon  fled ; 
And  not  a  tear  bedews  thole  vacant  eyes — 
But  fongs  and  {bouts  fucceed,  and  laughter-mingled 
iighs. 

Yet,  yet  again! — a  murder's  hand  appears 
c     Grafping  a  pointed  dagger  ftain'd  with  blood ! 
His  look  malignant  chills  with  boding  fears, 
That  check  the  current  of  life's  ebbing  flood. 
In  midnight's  darkeft  clouds 
The  dreary  mifcreant  fhrouds 
His  felon  ftep — as  'twere  to  darknefs  given 
To  dim  the  watchful  eye  of  all-pervading  heaven. 

And  hark !   ah  mercy  J   whence  that  hollow 
found  ?  [hair  ? 

Why  with  ftrange  horror  Marts  my  briftling 
Earth  opens  wide,  and  from  unhallow'd  ground 
A  pallid  ghoft  flow-riling  fteals  on  air. 
To  where  a  mangled  corfe 
Expos'd  without  remorfe 
Lies  fliroudlefs,    uneiitomb'd,    he    points   the 

way— - 
Points  to  the  prowling  wolf  exultant  o'er  his  prey. 

"  Was  it  for  this,  he  cries,  with  kindly  fliower 

"  Of  daily  gifts  the  traitor  I  carefs'd  ? 
"  For  this,  array'd  him  in  the  robe  of  power, 
"  And  lodg'd  my  royal  fecrets  in  his  breaft  ? 
"  O  kindnefc  ill  repay'd  ! 
"  To  bare  trre  murdering  blade 
"  Againft  my  life ! — may  Heav'n  his  guilt  ex- 
"  plore,  [reftore." 

*'  And  to  my  fuffering  race  their  fplendid  rights 

He  faid,  and  ftalk'd  away. — Ah  goddefs !  ceafe 

Thus  with  terrific  forms  to  rack  my  brain ; 
Thefe   horrid  phantoms   (hake   the   throne  of 

peace, 

And  reafon  calls  her  1>oafted  powers  in  vain  : 
Then  change  thy  magic  wand, 
Thy  dreadful  troops  difband, 
And  gentler  fhapes,  and  fofter  fcenes  difclofe, 
To  melt  the  feeling  heart,  yet  footh  its  tendereft 
woes. 

The  fervent  prayer  was  heard. — With  hideous 

found, 

Her  ebon  gates  of  darknefs  open  flew ; 
A  dawning  twilight  cheers  the  dread  profound; 
The  train  of  terror  vanilhes  from-  view. 
More  mild  enchantments  rife ; 
New  fcenes  falute  my  eyes, 
Groves,  fountains,  bowers,  and  temples  grace 
the  plain,  [plain. 

And  turtles  coo  around,  and  nightingales  com- 

And  every  myrtle  bower  and  cyprefs  grove, 
And  every  Iblemn  temple  teems  with  life; 
Here  glows  the  fcene  with  fond  but  haplefs  love, 
There,  with  the  deeper  woes  of  human  ftrife. 
In  groups  around  the  lawn, 
By  frefh  difafters  drawn, 
The  fad  fpefiators  feem  transfix'd  in  woe; 
jytyuig  fighs  are  heard,  and. heart- 

flow. 
VOL.  XK 


97 


Behold  that  beauteous  maid  !  her  languid  head 
Bends  like  a  drooping  lily  charg'd  with  rain: 
With  floods  of  tears  (he  bathes  a  lover  dead, 
In  brave  afiertion  o£  her  honour  Cain. 
Her  bofom  heaves  with  fighs; 
To  Heaven  fhe  lifts  her  eyes,    • 
With  grief  beyond  the  power  of  words  opprcft, 
Sinks  on  the  lifelefs  corfe,  and  dies  upen  his  breaft. . 

How  ftrong  the  bands  of  friendfhip  ?  yet,  alas ! 
Behind    yon    mouldering    tower    with    ivy 

crown'd, 

Of  two,  the  formoft  in  her  facred  clafs, 
One,  from  his  friend,  receives  the  fatal  wound! 
What  could  fuch  fury  move  ! 
Ah  what,  but  ill-ftar'd  love  ? 
The  fame  fair  objed  each  fond  heart  enthralls, 
And  he,  the  favour'd  youth)  her  haplefs  vidim 
falls. 

Can  ought  fo  deeply  fway  the  generous  mind 

To  mutual  truih,  as  female  truft  in  love  ? 
Then,  what  relief  ihall  yon  fair  mourner  find, 
Scorn'd  by  the  man  who  fliould  her  plaints 

remove  ? 

By  fair,  but  falfe  pretence, 
She  loft  her  innocence ; 

And  that  fweet  babe,  the  fruit  of  treacherous  art,  _, 
Clafp'd  in  her  arms  expires,  and  breaks  the  parent's 
heart. 

Ah  !  who  to  pomp  or  grandeur  would  afpire  ? 
Kings  are  not  rais'd  al>ove  misfortune's  frown : 
That  form  fo  graceful  even  in  mean  attire, 
bway'd  once  a  fceptre,  once  fuftain'd  a  crown, 
*   From  filial  rage  and  ftrife, 

To  fcreen  his  clofing  life. 
He  quits  his  throne,  a  father's  farrow  feels, 
And  in  the  lap  of  want  his  patient  head  con 
ceals. 

More  yet  remain'd — but  lo  !  the  penfive  tjueea 

Appears  confeft  before  my  dazzled  fight, 
Grace  in  her  fteps,  and  foftnefs  in  her  mien, 
The  face  of  forrow  mingled  with  delight. 
Not  fuch  her  nobler  frame, 
When  kindling  into  flame, 
And  bold  in  virtue's  caufe,  her  zeal  afpires 
To  waken  guilty  pangs,  or  breathe  heroic  fire?. 

Aw'd  into  filence,  my  rapt  foul  attends  — 
The  power,  with  eyes  complacent,  faw  my 

fear; 

And,  as  with  grace  ineffable  Cie  bends, 
Thefe  accents  vibrate  on  my  liftening  ear. 
"  Afpiring.fon  of  art, 
"  Know,  though  thy  feeling  heart 
«  Glow  with  thcfe  wonders  to  thy  fancy  fhoWn  ; 
«  Still  may  the  Delian  god  thy  powerlefs  toils  dif- 

"  own. 

«  A  thoufand  tender  fcenes  of  fcft  diftrefs 
"  May  fwell  thy  breaft  with  fympathetic 

«  woes ; 

«  A  thoufand  fuch  dread  forms  on  fancy  prefs, 
«  As  from  my  dreary  realms  of  darknels  rofej 
»  Whence  ShakJ'peare's  chilling  fears, 
"  Whence  Otway's  melting  t 
«  That  awful  gloom,  this  melancholy  plain, 
«  The  types  of  every  theme  that  fuiu  the  •"• 
"  ilruiu. 


THE   WORKS   OF   DODSLEY. 


"  But  doft  thou  worfhip  nature  night  and  morn, 

"  And  all  due  honour  to  her  precepts  pay  ? 
"  Canft  thou  the  lure  of  affectation  fcorn, 

"  Pleas'd   in  the  fimpler  paths  of  truth  to 

"  ftray? 

"  Haft  thou  the  graces  fair 
"  Invok'd  with  ardent  prayer? 
"  'Tis  they  attire,  as  nature  muft  impart, 
ft  The  fentiment  fublime,  the  language  of  the 
"  heart. 

ft  Then,  if  creative  genins  pour  his  ray, 

"  Warm  with   infpiring   influence    on   thy 

"  breaft ; 

*•  Tafte,  judgment,  fancy,  if  thoia  canft  difplay, 
"  And  the  deep  fource  of  paffion  ftand  con- 

"  feft: 

"  Then  may  the  liftening  train, 
"  Affected,  feel  thy  ftrain  ; 
«  Feel  grief  or  terror,  rage  or  pity  move ; 
tt  Change   with  the  varying  fcenes,  and  every 
•*  fcene  approve." 

Humbled  before  her  fight,  and  bending  low, 

I  kifs'd  the  borders  of  her  crimfon  veft ; 
Eager  to  fpeak,  I  fek  my  bofom  glow, 
But  fear  upon  my  lip  her  feal  impreft. 
While  awe-ftruck  thus  I  flood, 
The  bowers,  the  lawn,  the  wood, 
The  form  celeftial,  fadirig-on  my  fight, 
Diffolv'd  in  liquid  air,  and  fleeting  gleams  of  light. 

THE  ART  OF  PREACHING. 

IN  IMITATION  OF  HORACE*S  ART  OF  POET*T. 

SHOULD  fome  ftrange  poet  in  his  piece  affect 
Pope's  nervous  ftyle,  with  Gibber's  jokes  bedeck'd, 
Prink  Milton's  true  fublime  with  Cowley's  wit, 
And  garnifh  Blackmore's  Job  with  Swift's  conceit, 
Would  you  not  laugh  ?  Truft  me,  that  prkft's  as 

bad, 

"Who  in  a  ftyle  now  grave,  now  raving  mad, 
Gives  the  wild  whims  of  dreaming  fchoolmen  rent, 
Whilft  drowfy  congregations  nod  aflent. 
Painters  and  priefts,  'tis  true,  great  licence  claim, 
And  by  bold  ftrokes  have  often  rofe  to  fame  :     10 
But  whales  in  -woods,  or  elephants  in  air, 
Serve  only  to  make  fools  and  children  flare ; 
And  in  religion's  name,  if  priefb  difpenfe 
Flat  contradictions  to  all  common  fenie, 
Though  gaping  bigots  wonder  and  believe, 
The  wife  'tis  not  fo  eafy  to  deceive.  [fenfe, 

Some   take  a  text  fublime,   and  fraught  with 
But  quickly  fall  into  impertinence. 

Ver.  I. 

Humano  capiti  cervicem  pictor  equinam 
Jungere  fi  velit,  et  varias  inducere  plumas 
\Jndique  collatis  membris,  ut  turpiter  atrum 
Definat  in  pifcem  mulier  formofa  fuperne  ; 
Spectatum  admifli  rifum  teneatis,  amici  ? 
Credite,  Pifones,  ifti  tabulx  fore  librurn 
Perfitn  lem— — — — 

Ver.  9. 

——Pictoribus  atque  poetis 
Quidlibet  audendi  femper  fuit  zequa  poteftas—— 
Sed  non  ut  placidis  cocant  immitia' 

Ver.  17. 
Jncceptis  gravibus  plerumque  et  magna  profcffis— 


On  trifles  eloquent,  with  great  delight 

They  flourifh  out  on  fome  ftrange  myftic  rite;  1Q 

Clear  up  the  darknefs  of  fome  ulelefs  text, 

Or  make  fome  crabbed  pafldge  more  perplex.' d ; 

But  to  fubdue  the  paflions,  or  direct, 

And  all  life's  moral  duties  they  neglect. 

Moft  preachers  err  (except  the  wifer  few). 
Thinking  eftabliflv'd  doctrines  therefore  true: 
Others,  too  fond  of  novelty  and  fchemes, 
Amufe  the  world  with  airy  idle  dreams  : 
Thus  too  much  faith,  or  too  prefuming  wit, 
Are  rocks  where  bigots,  or  freethinkers  fplit.     3* 

The  very  meaneft  dabbler  at  Whitehall 
Can  rail  at  Papiits,  or  poor  Quakers  maul ; 
But  when  of  fome  great  truth  he  aims  to  preach, 
Alas  !  he  finds  it  far  beyond  his  reach.  [find 

Young  deacons  try  your  ftrength,  and  ftrive  to 
A  fubjed:  fuited  to  your  turn  of  mind  ; 
Method  and  words  are  eafily  your  own, 
Or,  (hould  they  fail  you — ftcal  from  Tillotfon, 

Much  of  its  beauty,  ufefulnefs,  and  force, 
Depends  on  rightly  timing  a  difcourfe.  49 

Before  the  L — ds  or  C — mm— ns far  from. 

nice, 

Say  boldly — Brib'ry  is  a  dirty  vice- 
But  quickly  check  yourfelf — and  with  a  facer— 
Of  which  this  honourable"  houfc  is  clear. 

Great  is  the  work,  and  worthy  of  the  gown, 
To  bring  forth  hidden  truths,   and  make   them 

known. 

Yet  in  all  new  opinions  have  a  care, 
Truth  is  too  ftroug  for  fome  weak  minds  to  bear1: 
And  are  new  doctrines  taught,  or  old  reviv'd  ? 
Let  them  from  Scripture  plainly  be  deriv'd.       $9 

Barclay  or  Brater,  wherefore  do  we  blame 
For  innovations',  yet  approve  the  fame 
In  Wickliffe  and  in  Luther  ?  Why  are  thefe 
Call'd  wife  reformers,  thofe  mad  fe&aries? 


Ver.  25. 

Maxima  pars  vatum— — 
Decipimur  fpecie  redti— — • ' 

Ver.  ^^. 

Qui  variare  cupit  rem  prodigalitcr  imam, 
Delphinum  filvis  appingit,  fludtibus  aprum. 

Ver.  29. 
In  vitium  ducit  culpee  fuga,  fi  caret  artc. 

Ver.  31. 

JEmilium  circa  ludum  faber  imus  et  ungue 
Exprimet,  et  molles  imitabitur  zre  capillos^ 
Infelix  operis  fumma,  quia  ponere  totuin 
Nefckt 

Ver.-  35. 

Sumite  materiam  veftris,  qui  fcribitls,  aquam 
Viribus ; 

Ver.  39. 

Ordinis  hxc  virtus  erit,  et  Venas,  aut  ego  fallor, 
Ut  jam  nunc  dicat,  jam  nunc  debentia  dici 
Fleraque  difFerat ;  et  praefeus  in  tempus  omittat— * 

Ver.  45. 
In  verbis  etiam  tenuis  cautufque  ferendis 

Ver.  49. 

Et  nova  fidaque  nuper  habebunt  verba  fidcm,  Q 
Grxco  fonte  cadant,  parce  detorta. 

Ver.  51. 

Quid  autem 

Cxcilio  Plautoque  dabit  Romanus,  adt 
Yirgilio  Varioquc .?          .» 


POEMS, 


*Tis  moft  unjuft  :  Men  alwdys  had  a  right, 
And  ever  will,  to  think,  to  fpeak,  to  write 
Their  various  minds ;  yet  facred  ought  to  be 
The  public  peace,  as  private  liberty. 

Opinions  are  like  leaves,  which  every  year 
Now  flourifli  green,  now  fall  and  difappear.       60 
Once  the  Pope's  bulls  could  terrify  his  foes, 
And  kneeling  princes  kilVd  his  facred  toes; 
Now  he  may  damn,  or  curfe,  or  what  he  will, 
There's  not  a  prince  in  Chriftendom  will  kneel. 
Reafon  now  reigns,  and  by  her  aid  we  hope 
Truth  may  revive,  and  fickening  errordroop : 
She  the  fole  judge,  the  rule,  the  gracious  light, 
Kind  Heaven  has  lent  to  guide  our  minds  aright. 

States  to  embroil,  and  faction  to  difplay 
In  wild  harangues,  Sacheverel  (how'J  the  way.  70 

The  fun'ral  fermon,  when  it  firft  began, 
Was  us'd  to  weep  the  lofs  of  fome  good  man ; 
How  any  wretch,  for  one  fmall  piece  of  gold, 
Shall  have  fine  praifes  from  the  pulpit  fold  : 
But  whence  this  cuftom  rofe,  who  can  decide  ? 
Frorn  prieftly  av'rice,  or  from  human  pride  ? 

Truth,  moral  virtue,  piety,  and  peace, 
Are  noble  fubjecls,  and  the  pulpit  grace  : 
But  zeal  for  trifles  arm'd  imperious  Laud, 
His  power  and  cruelty  the  nation  aw'd.  So 

Why  was  he  honour'd  with  the  name  of  prieft, 
And  grenteft  made,  unworthy  to  be  leaft  ? 
V/hofe  Zeal  was  fury,  whofe  devotion  pride, 
Power  his  great  god,  and  intereft  his  fole  guide. 

To  touch  the  paffions,  let  your  ftyle  be  plain  ; 
The  praife  of  virtue  afks  a  higher  (train  : 
Yet  fometimes  the  pathetic  may  receive 
The  utmoft  force  that  eloquence  can  give  > 
As  fometimes,  in  eulogiums,  'tis  the  art, 
With  plain  fimplicity  to  win  the  heart.  <)O 

'Tis  not  enough  that  what  you  fay  is  true, 
To  make  us  feel  it,  you  muft  feel  it  too :       [part 
Show  ycnrfelf  warm'd,  and  that  will  warmth  im- 
To  every  hearer's  fyropathizing  heart. 

Ver.  55. 

•  Licuit,  fempetque  licebit, 
Signatum  praefente  nota  procudere  nomen. 

Ver.  50. 
Ut  fvlva;  foliis  pronos  mutantur  in  annos— — 

Ver.  69. 

Res  geftae  regumque  ducumque.  ettriftia  bella, 
Q_uo  fcribi  pofient  numero,  monftravit  Homerus. 

Ver.  71. 

Verfibus  impariter  junctis  querimonia  primum, 
Pod  etiam  inclufa  eft  voti  fententia  compos. 
Q_uis  tamen  exiguos  elegos  emiferit  anctor, 
Giammatici  certaat,  et  adhuc  fub  judice  lis  eft. 

Ver.  77. 

.Mufa  cledit  fidibus  divos,  pueiofque  deorum • 

Archilocum  proprio  rabies  armavit  iambo. 

Ver.  8 1. 

Cur  ego,  fi  nequeo  ignoroque,  pofita  falntor? 
Car  nefcire -quam  difcere  malo  ? 

Ver.  85. 

Verfibus  exponi  tragicis  res  comica  non  vult— — 
Interdum  tamen  et  vocem  comaedia  tollit ; 
Et  tragicus  plerumque  dolet  fermone  pedeftri. 

Vef.  91. 
Non  fatis  eft  pnlchra  efle  poe'mata       " 

•  male  fi  mandata-loqueris, 

aut  riddw. 


Does  geherdus  Potter  virtue's  laws  enforce  ? 
All_give  attention  to  the  warm  difcourfe : 
But  who  a-cold,  dull,  lifelefs,  drawling  keeps; 
One  half  his  audience  laughs,  the  other  fleeps. 

In  cenfuring  vice,  be  earneft  and  fevere, 
In  ftating  dubious  points,  concife  and  clear ;    loo 
Anger  requires  ftern  looks  and  threat 'uing  ftyle  ; 
But  paint  the  charms  of  virtue  with  a  fniile. 
Thefe  different  changes  common  fenfe  will  teach, 
And  we  expect  them  from  yon  if  you  preach  ; 
For  mould  your  mariner  differ  from  your  theme, 
Or  in  quite  different  fubjects  be  the  fame, 
Defpis'd  and  laugh'd  at,  you  may  travel  down, 
And  hide  fuch  talents  in  fome  country  town. 

It  much  concerns  a  preacher  firft  to  learn 
The  genius  of  his  audience,  and  their  turn.      Ho 
Amongft  the  citizens  be  grave  and  flow ; 
Before  the  nobles  let  fine  periods  flow  ; 
The  Temple  Church  aflcs  Sherlock's  fehfe  and  (kill; 
Beyond  the  Tow'r— no  matter — what  yon  will. 

In  facts  or  notions  drawn  from  facred  writ, 
Be  orthodox,  nor  caval  to  fhow  wit : 
Let  Adam  lofe  a  rib  to  gain  a  wife  ; 
Let  Noah's  ark  contain  all  things  with  life  ; " 
Let  Mofes  work  ftrange  wonders  with  his  rod, 
And  let  the  fun  (land  ftill  at  Jofhua's  nod,        noj 
Let  Solomom  be  wife,  and  Samfonftrong, 
Give  Saul  a  witch<  and  Balaam's  afs  a  tongue. 

But  if  your  daring  genius  is  fo  bold 
To  teach  new  doctrines,  or  to  cenfure  pld, 
With  care  proceed ;  yon  tread  a  dangerous  path  J 
Error  eftablifli'd,  grows  eftablifti'd  faith. 
Tis  eafier  much,  and  much  the  fafer  ruje, 
To  teach  in  pulpit  what  you  learn'd  at  fchool ; 
With  zeal  defend  whate*er  the  church  believes, 
If  you  expect  to  thrive,  or  wear  lawn  fleeves.  1$£ 

Some  loudly  blufter,  and  confign  to  hell 
All  who  dare  doubt  one  word  or  fyllable 
Of  what  they  call  the  faith  ;  and  which  extends 
To  whims  and  trifles  without  ufe  or  ends : 
Sure  'tis  much  nobler,  and  more  like  divine, 
T'  enlarge  the  path  to  heaven,  than  to  confine  J 
Infift  alone  on  ufeful  points,  or  plain  ; 
And  know,  God  cannot  hate  a  virtuous  man. 

If  you  expect  or  hope  that  we  mould  ftay     139 
Your  whole  difcourfe,  nor  ftrive  to  fliak  away, 


ciot 


Ver.  09. 

-  Trfftia  mceftum 

Vultum  verba  decent  :  iratmtt,  plena  mfnarura; 
Ludemem,  lafciva  ;  feverum,  feria  ditfu 
Format  enim  natura  prius  nos  ititus  ad  otnn«ro 
Fortunarum  habitum  :  - 

Ver.  i«p. 
Intercrit  multum  Davufne  loquatoranbci 

Ver.  it  5. 
Famam  iequere—  — 

Ver.  123. 

Si  quid  inexpertnm  fcei«#  commitu,  ct  audet 
Perfonam  fonnare  noviim  ; 

.  --  -tuque 
Rectius  Iliacum  carmen  deducis  in  »cli»—  — 

Ver.  131. 
Nee  fie  incipies,  nt  fcriptor  CychcuJ  olim  — 

Ver.  135. 
Quanto  rectius  hie—  — 

Ver.  139.  ,. 

Tu,  quid  ego  et  populi*  raecum  defiaertt,  ««*• 
GJJ 


"! 
> 
_) 


too 

Some  common  faults  there  are  yon  muft  avoid, 
To  every  age  and  circumftance  ally'd. 

A  pert  young  ftudent  juft  from  college  brought, 
With  many  little  pedantries  is  fraught  : 
Reafons  with  fyllogifm,  perfuades  with  wit, 
Quotes  Icraps  of  Greek  inftead  of  facred  writ  ; 
Or,  deep  immers'd  in  politic  debate, 
Reforms  the  church,  and  guides  the  tottering  ftate. 

Thefe  trifles  with  maturer  age  forgot,  149 

Now  fomt:  good  benefice  employs  his  thought  ; 
He  feeks  a  patron,  and  will  foon  incline 
To  all  his  notions,  civil  or  divine  ; 
Studies  his  principles  both  night  and  day,    [pray. 
And,  as  that  Scripture  guides,  muft  preach  and 
Av'rice  and  age  creep  on  :   his  reverend  mind 
Begins  to  grow  right  reverendly  inclin'd. 
Power  and  preferment  ftill  fo  Tweedy  call, 
The  voice  of  Heaven  is  never  heard  at  all  : 
Set  but  a  tempting  bifhoprick  in  view, 
He's  ftrictly  orthodox,  and  loyal  too;  1  60 

With  equal  zeal  defends  the  church  and  ftate, 
And  infidels  and  rebels  fhare  his  hate. 

Some  things  are  plain,  we  can't  mifunderftand, 
Some  ftillobfcure,  though  thoufands  have  explain'd: 
Thofe  influence  more  which  reafon  can  conceive," 
Than  fuch  as  we  through  faith  alone  believe  ; 
In  thofe  we  judge,  in  thefe  you  may  deceive  : 
But  what  too  deep  in  myftery  is  throwu, 
The  wifeft  preachers  choofe  to  let  alone. 
How  Adam's  fault  affects  all  h.uman  kind  ;       170 
How  Three  is  One,  and  One  is  Three  combin'd  ; 
How  certain  prefcience  checks  not  future  will  ; 
And  why  Almighty  goodnefs  fuffers  ill  : 
Such  points  as  thefe  lie  far  too  deep  for  man, 
Were  never  well  explain'd,  nor  ever  can. 

If  paftors  more  than  thrice  five  minutes  preach, 
Their  fleepy  flocks  begin  to  yawn  and  Itretch. 

Never  prefume  the  name  of  God  to  bring 
As  facred  fanction  to  a  trifling  thing. 

Before,  or  after  fermon,  hymns  of  praife       180 
Exalt  the  foul;  and  true  devotion  raife. 

Si  plauforis  eges  aulasa  manentis,  et  ufque. 
Suffuri  donee  cantor,  vos  plaudite,  dicat  ; 
JEtatis  cuj  ufque  notandi  funt  tibi  mores 

Ver.  143. 
Reddere  qui  voces  jam  fcit  puer 

Ver.  149. 

Converfis  Itudiis,  setas  animufque  virilis 
Quaerit  opes  et  amickias 

Ver.  155. 
Multa  fenem  circumveniunt 

Ver.  163. 

Aut  agitur  res  in  fcenis,  aut  a  eta  refertur  : 
Segnius  irritant  animos  demiffa  per  aurem, 
Guam  quse  funt  oculis  fubjecta  fidelibus,  et  q*uai 
Ipfe  fibi  tradit  fpectator.  -  [em  ; 

in  avem  Progne  vertatur,'  Cadmus  in  angu- 
Quockunque  oftendis  mihi  fie,  incredulus  odi. 

Ver.  ij6. 

Neve  minor,  neu  fit  quint.o  productior  actu 
Tabula  -- 

Ver.  178. 

Nee  deus  interfit,  nifi  dignus  vindice  nodus 
Inciderit  : 

Ver.  180. 
Actoris  partes  chorus,  officiumcjue  virile 


THE    WORKS    OF   DOBSLEY". 


In  fongs  of  wonder  celebrate  his  name, 
Who  fpread  the  Ikies,  and  built  the  ftarry  frame  t 
Or  thence  defcending  view  this  globe  below, 
And  praife  the  fource  of  every  blifs  we  know. 

In  ancient  times,  when  Heaven  was  to  be  prais'd, 
Our  humble  anceflors  their  voices  rais'd, 
And  hymns  of  thanks  from  grateful  bofoms  flow'd, 
For  ills  prevented,  or  for  good  beftow'd  :         18^ 
But  as  the  church  increased  in  power  and  pride, 
The  pomp  of  found  the  want  of  fenfe  fupply'd ; 
Majeftic  organs  then  were  taught  to  blow, 
And  plain  religion  grew  a  rareefliow : 
Strange  ceremonious  whims,  a  numerous  race, 
Were  introduc'd,  in  truth's  and  virtue's  place. 
Myfterious  turnpikes  block  up  heaven's  highway, 
And,  for  a  ticket,  we  our  reafon  pay. 

Thefe  fuperftitions  quickly  introduce 
Contempt,  neglect,  wild  fatire,  and  abufe ; 
Religion  and  its  priefts,  by  every  fool  30* 

Were  thought  a  jeft,  and  turn'd  to  ridicule. 
Some  few  indeed  found  where  the  medium  lay, 
And  kept  the  *  coat,  but  tore  the  fringe  away. 

Of  preaching  well  if  you  expect  the  fame, 
Let  truth  and  virtue  be  your  firft  great  aim. 
Your  facred  function  often  call  to  mind, 
And  think  how  great  the  truft,  to  teach  mankind : 
'Tis  yours  in  ufeful  fermons  to  explain, 
Both  what  we  owe  to  God,  and  what  to  man. 
'Tis  yours  the  charms  of  liberty  to  paint,         at» 
His  country's  love  in  every  breaft  to  plant ; 
Yours  every  focial  virtue  to  improve, 
Jullice,  forbearance,  charity,  and  love  ; 
Yours  too  the  private  virtues  to  augment, 
Of  prudence,  temperance,  modefty,  content : 
When  fuch  the  man,  how  amiable  the  prieft ; 
Of  all  mankind  the  worthieft  and  the  beft. 

Ticklifh  the  point,  I  grant,  and  hard  to  find, 
To  pleafe  the  various  tempers  of  mankind.       119 
Some   love  you  fiiould  the   crabbed  points  ex. 

plain, 

Where  texts  with  texts  a  dreadful  war  maintain : 
Some  love  a  new,  and  fome  the  beaten  path, 
Morals  pleafe'fome,  and  others  points  of  faith ; 
But  he's  the  man,  he's  the  admir'd  divine, 
In  whofe  difcourfes  truth  and  virtue  join : 

Ver.  186. 

Tibia  non,  ut  nunc  orichalco  vincta,  tubzque 
JEmula  ;  fed  tenuis  fimplexque. 
Fofiquam  ccepit  agros  extendere  victor,  et  urbem> 
Latior  amplecti  murus,  vinoque  diurno 
Placari  genius  feftis  impune  diebus  ; 
Acceffit  numerifque  modifque  licentia  major. 
Indodtus  quid  enim  faperet,  liberqUe  laborum, 
Rufticus  urbano  confufus,  turpis  honefto  ? 

Ver.  198. 

Mox  etiam  agreftes  Satyros  nadavit,  et  afper 
Incolumi  gravitate  jocum  tentavit 

Ver.  204. 

Scribendi  recte,  fapere  eft  et  principium  et  fons. 
Qui  dklicit  patrigJgbid  debeat,  etquid  amicis. 

Ver.  2 1 8. 

Centurias  feniorum  agitant  expertia  frugis ; 
Celli  praetereun't  auftera  poemata  Rhamnes. 
Ornne  tulit  punctum  qui  mifcuit  utile  duki, 
Lectorem  delectando,  pariterque  monendo.       .< 


*  Yide  Martin  in  t&cTak  of  a 


POEMS, 


Thefe  are  the  fermons  which  will  ever  live, 
By  thefe  our  Tonfons  and  our  Knaptons  thrive  ; 
How  fuch  are  read,  and  prais'd,  and  how  they  fell, 
Let  Barrow's  Clarke's,  and  Butler's  fermons  tell. 

Preachers  fhould  either  make  us  good  or  wife, 
Him  that  does  neither,  who  but  muft  defpife  ? 
If  all  your  rules  are  ufeful,  fliort,  and  plain,      332 
We  foon  ftiall  learn  them,  and  fhall  long  retain  ? 
But  if  on  trifles  you  harangue,  away 
We  turn  our  heads,  and  laugh  at  all  you  fay. 

But  priefts  are  men,  and  men  are  prone  to  err, 
On  common  failings  none  fliould  be  fevere  : 
All  are  not  matters  of  the  fame  good  fenl'e, 
l>Jor  bleft  with  equal  powers  of  eloquence. 
'Tis  true  :  and  errors  with  an  honelt  mind,      340 
Will  meet  with  eafy  pardon  from  mankind  ; 
But  who  perfifts  in  wrong  with  ftubborn  pride, 
Him  all  muft  cenfure,  many  will  deride. 

Yet  few  are  judgesjaf  a  fine  difcourfe, 
Can  fee  its  beauties,  or  can  feel  its  force ; 
With  equal  pleafure  fome  attentive  fit, 
To  fober  reafoning,  and  to  fhallow  wit. 
What  then  ?  becaufe  your  audience  moft  are  fools, 
Will  you  neglect  all  method,  and  all  rules  ? 
Or  fince  the  pulpit  is  a  facr«d  place,  250 

Where  noqe  dare  contradict  you  to  your  face, 
Will  you  prefume  to  tell  a  thoufand  lies? 
If  fo,  we  may  forgive,  but  muft  defpife. 

In  jingling  Bev'ridge  if  I  chance  to  fee 
One  word  of  fenfe,  I  prize  the  rarity : 
But  if  in  Hooker,  Sprat,  or  Tillotfon, 
A  thought  unworthy  of  themlelves  is  fliown, 
I  grieve  to  fee  it ;  but  'tis  no  furprife, 
The  gretteft  men  are  not  at  all  times  wife. 

Sermons,  like  plays,  fome  pleafe  us  at  the  ear, 
But  never  will  a  ferious  reading  bear  ;  a6i 

Some  in  the  clofet  edify  enough, 
That  from  the  pulpit  feem'd  but  forry  fluff. 
'Tis  thus:  there  are,  who  by  ill-preaching  fpoil 
Young's  pointed  fenfe,  or  Atterbury's  ftyle  ; 
Whilft  others  by  the  force  of  eloquence, 
Make   that  feem  fine,  which  icarce  is  common 
fenfe. 

In  every  fcience,  they  that  hope  to  rife, 
Set  great  examples  Itill  before  their  eyes. 
Young  lawyers  copy  Murray  where  they  can  ; 
Phyficians  Mead,  and  furgeons  Chefelden  ;       271 
But  all  will  preach,  without  the  leaft  pretence 
To  virtue,  learning,  art,  or  eloquence. 

Ver.  230. 
Aut  prodefie  volunt,  aut  delectare  poet* 

Ver.  236. 
Sunt  delicta  tamen,  quibus  ignovifie  velimus 

Ver.  244. 
Mon  quivis-videt  immodulata  poemata  judex. 

Ver.  254. 

Sic  mini,  qni  multum  cefiat,  fit  Ccerilus  ille, 
Quern  bis  terve  bonum,  cum  rifu  tniror ;  et  idem 
Indignor,  quandoque  bonus  dormitat  Homerus. 
Verum  opere  in  longo  fas  eft  obrepere  fomnum. 

Ver.  260. 

Ut  picture,  poefiserit:  qua:,  fi  propius  ftes, 
Te  caoiet  magis ;  et  quaedam,  fi  longius  abftes. 

Ver.  768. 

Ludeie  qui  nefcit,  compeftribus  abftiuet  artnis 

Qui  nefcit,  verfujs  ta»en  audet  fingere.  Quid  ni  ? 


Why  not  ?  you  cry  :  they  plainly  fee,  no  doubt, 
A  prieft  may  grow  right-reverend  without. 

Preachers  and  preaching  were  at  firft  defign'd 
For  common  benefit  to  all  mankind. 
Public  and  private  virtues  they  explain'cl, 
To  goodnefs  courted,  and  from  vice  reftrain'd  : 
Love,  peace,  and  union  breath'd  in  each  difcourfe, 
And  their  examples  gave  their  precepts  force. 
From   thefe   good   men,  the  prmts  and  all  their 
line  282 

Were  honour'd  with  the  title  of  divine. 
But  foon  their  proud -fucceflbrs  left  this  path, 
Forfook  plain  morals  for  dark  points  of  faith : 
Till  creeds  on  creeds  the  warring  world  inflam'd, 
And    all    mankind,    by  different    priefts,   were 
damn'd. 

Some  afk  which  is  th'  eflential  of  a  prieft, 
Virtue  or  learning  ?  what  they  aik's  a  jeft  : 
We  daily  fee  dull  loads  of  reverend  fat,  ip« 

Without  pretence  to  either  this  or  that. 
But  who  like  Herring  or  like  Hoadly  mine, 
Muft  with  great  learning  real  virtue  join. 

He  who  by  preaching  hopes  to  raife  a  name, 
To  no  fmall  excellence  directs  his  aim. 
On  every  noted  preacher  he  muft  wait ; 
The  voice,  the  look,  the  action  imitate : 
And  when  complete  in  ftyle,  and  eloquence, 
Muft   then    crown   all  with  learning  and  good 
fenfe.  zpp 

But  fome  with  lazy  pride  difgrace  the  gown, 
And  never  preach  one  fermon  of  their  own; 
'Tiseafier  to  tranfcribe  than  to  compofe, 
So  all  the  week  they  eat,  and  drink,  and  doze. 

As  quacks  with  lying  puffs  the  papers  fill, 
Or  hand  their  own  praile  in  a  pocky  bill, 
Where  empty  boafts  of  much  luperior  feufe. 
Draw  from  the  cheated  crowd  their  idle  pence; 
So  the  great  H — nley  hires  for  half-a-cruwn, 
A  quack  ad vertifement  to  tell  the  town 
Of  fome  ftrange  point  to  be  difputed  on:       Jio 
Where  ail  who  love  the  fcience  of  debate, 
May  hear  themfelves,  or  other  coxcombs  prate 

When  dukes  or  noble  lords  a  chaplain  hire, 
They  firft  of  his  capacities  inquire. 

Ver.  276. 

Fuit  hsec  fapientia  quondam, 

Publica  pnvatis  lecernere,  facra  profanis : 
Concubitu  probibere  vago,  dare  jura  maritis; 

Oppida  moliri;  leges  incidere  ligne 

Sic  honor  et  nonuen  divinis  vatibus  atque 

Carminibus  venit 

Poft  hos 

Ammos  in  triftia  bella 

Verubus  exacuit. 

Ver.  1 8S. 

Natura  heret  laudabile  carmen,  an  arte, 
Qusefitum  eft. 

Ver.  204, 

Qui  ftudet  optatara  curfu  contingere  roetarn, 
Multa  tulit  facitque  puer ;  fudarit  et  alfit 

Ver.  304. 
Ut  prseeo.  ad  merces  turbam  qui  cogit  e 

Ver.  313- 

Reges  dicuntur  mums  urgcre  culuilis, 
tt  torquere  mero,  quern  perfpcxiffc  laborant, 

An  fit  ajnicitU  dignus. 

G  iij 


THE  WORKS   OF   DODSLEY. 


If  ftoutly  qualify'd  to  drink  and  fmoke, 
If  not  too  nice  to  hear  an  impious  joke, 
If  tame  enough  to  be  the  common  jeft, 
This  is  a  chaplain  to  his  lordfhip's  tafte. 

If  bards  to  Pope  indifferent  verfes  fliow, 
fie  is  too  honeft  not  to  tell  them  fo.  330 

This  is  obfcure,  he  cries,  and  this  too  rough, 
Thefe  trifling,  or  fuperfluous;  ftrike  them  off. 
How  ufeful  every  word  from  fuch  a  friend  !        ~J 
JJut  parfons  are  too  proud,  their  works  to  mend,  t- 
And  every  fault  with  arrogance  defend  :  J 

Think  them  too  facred  to  be  criticis'd, 
And  rather  choofe  to  let  them  be  defpis'd. 

He  that  is  wife  will  not  prefume  to  laugk 
At  priefts,  or  church-affairs ;  it  is  not  fafe.      319 
Think  there  exifts,  and  let  it  check  your  fport, 
That  dreadful  monfter  call'd  a  fpiritual  court. 
Into  whofe  cruel  jaws  if  once  you  fall, 
In  vain,  alas  1  in  vain  fpr  aid  you  call ; 
Clerks,  proctors,  priefts,  voracious  round  you  ply, 
Like  leeches  flicking,  till  they've  fuek'd  you  dry. 

AN  EPISTLE  TO  MR.  POPE. 

OCCASIONED  BY  HIS  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

GREAT  bard  !  in  whom  united  we  admire, 
The  fage's  wifdom,  and  the  poet's  fire : 
In  whom  at  once,  the  great  and  good  commend 
The  fine  companion,  and  the  ufeful  friend  :— 
'Twas  thus  the  mufe  her  eager  flight  began. 
Ardent  to  fing  the  poet, and  the  man. 
Jut  truth  in  verfe  is  clad  too  like  a  lie, 
And  you,  at  leaft,  would  think  it  flattery; 
Hating  the  thought,  1  check  my  forward  ftrain, 
I  change  my  ftyle,  and  thus  begin  again. 

As  when  fome  ftudent  firft  with  curious  eye, 
Through  nature's  wond'rous  frame  attempts  to 

Pry; 

His  doubtful  reafon  feeming  faults  furprife, 
He  a(ks  if  this  be  juft  ?  if  that  be  wife  ? 
Storms,  tempefts,  earthquakes,  virtue  in  diftrefs, 
And  vice  unpunifh'd,  with  ftrange  thoughts  op- 

prefs : 

Till  thinking  on,  unclouded  by  degrees, 
His  mind  is  open'd,  fair  is  all  he  fees ; 
Storms,   tempefts,   earthquakes,   virtue's  ragged 

plight. 

And  vice's  triumph,  all  are  juft  and  right : 
Beauty  is  found,  and  order,  and  defign, 
And  the  whole  fcheme  acknowledg'd  all  divine. 
So  when  at  firft  I  view'd  thy  woi.d'rous  plan, 
"Leading  through  all  the  winding  maze  of  man; 
Bewilder'd,  weak,  unable  to  purfue, 
My  pride  would  fain  have  laid  the  fault  on  you. 


Ver.  319. 
Vir  bonus  et  prudens  verfus  reprehendet  inertes — 

ambitiofa  recidet 

Ornamenta ;  parum  clavis  lucem  dare  coget. 

Ver.  328. 

Ut,  mala  quern  fcabies  aut  morbns  regius  urget, 
Aut  fanaticus  error,  et  iracunda  Diana, 
Vefanum  tetijjifl'e  tinsent  fugiuntque  poetarn, 

Qtii  fapiunt : • 

<^ue;ti  verb  arripnit,  tenet,  occiditque  legendo, 
l\pn  miflura  autem  nifi  plena  cruoris  hirudo. 


This  falfe,  that  ill-expreft,  this  thought  not  gooi 
And  all  was  wrong  which  I  mifunderftood. 
But  reading  more  attentive,  foon  I  found, 
The  diction  nervous,  and  the  doctrine  found. 
Saw  man,  a  pnrt  of  that  ftupendous  whole, 
"  Whofe  body  nature  is,  and  God  the  foul." 
Saw  in  the  fcale  of  things  his  middle  ftate, 
And  all  his  pow'rs  adapted  juft  to  that. 
Saw  reafon,  pafiion,  weaknefs,  how  of  ufe, 
How  all  to  good,  tohappinefs  conduce  ; 
Saw  my  own  weaknefs,  thy  fuperior  power, 
And  ftill  the  more  I  read,  admire  the  more. 

This  fimile  drawn  out,  I  naw  began 
To  think  of  forming  fome  defign  or  plan, 
To  aid  my  mufe,  and  guide  her  wand'ring  lay, 
When  fuddcn  to  my  mind  came  honeft  Gay, 
For  form  or  method  I  no  more  contend, 
But  ftrive  to  copy  that  ingenious  friend  *  : 
Like  him  to  catch  my  thoughts  juft  as  they  rofe  —  • 
And  thus  I  caught  them,  laughing  at  thy  foes. 

Where  are  ye  now  -  ye  critics,  fliall  I  fay  ? 
Or  owls  who  ficken  at  this  god  of  day  ? 
What  !  mighty  fcribblers,  will  you  let  him  go 
Uncenfur'd,  unabus'd,  unhonour'd  fo  ? 
Step  forth,  fome  great  diftinguifh'd  daring  dunce., 
Write  but  one  page,  you  fiience  him  at  once  : 
Write  without  fear;  you  will,  you  muft  fuccced  ; 
He  cannot  anfwer  -  for  he  will  not  read. 
Here  paus'd  the  mufe  —  alas  1  the  jade  is  bit, 
She  fain  wquhl  copy  Gay,  but  wants  his  wit. 
She  paus'd,  indeed  —  broke  off  as  he  had  done, 
Wrote  four  unmeaning  lines,  and  then  went  on. 

Ye  wits  and  fools;  ye  libertines  and  faints, 
Come  pour  upon  the  foe  your  joint  complaints. 
Firft,  you  who  oft,  with  wifdom  too  refin'd, 
Can  cenlure  and  direct  th'  Eternal  Mind, 
Ingenious  wits,  who  modeftly  pretend 
This  bungling  frame,  the  univerfe,  to  mend; 
How  can  you  bear,  in  your  great  reafon's  fpight, 
To  hear  him  prove,  "  Whatever  is,  is  right  I" 
Alas  '.  how  eafy  to  confute  the  fong  ! 
If  all  is  right,  how  came  your  heads  fo  wrong  ? 

And  come,  ye  folemn  fools,  a  numerous  band, 
Who  read,  and  read,  but  never  underftand, 
Pronounce  it  nonfeqfe  —  Can't  you  prove  it  too  ? 
Good  faith,  my  friends,  it  may  be  fo  —  to  you. 

Come  too,  ye  libertines,  who  luft  for  power, 
Or  wealth,  or  fame,  or  greatnefs,  or  a  whore  ; 
All  who  true  fenfual  happinefs  adhere  to, 
And  laugh  him  out  of  this  old-fafhion'd  virtue  j 
Virtue,  where  he  has  whimfically  plac'd 
Your  only  blifs  —  How  odd  is  fome  mens  tafte! 

And  come,  ye  rigid  faints,  with  looks  demure, 
Who  boaft  yourfelves  right  holy,  juft,  and  pure  j 
Come,  and  with  pious  zeal  the  lines  decry, 
Whicfc  give  your  proud  hypocrify  the  lie  : 
Which  own  the  beft  have  failings,  not  a  few  ; 
And  prove  the  worft,  fometimes,  as  good  as  you. 

What  !  fhall  he  taint  fuch  perfect  fouls  with  i!l  ? 
Shall  lots  not  place  their  blifs  in  what  they  will  ? 
Nor  fools  be  fools  .'  nor  wits  fublime  defcend 
In  charity  to  heaven  its  works  to  mend  ? 
Laughs  he  at  the.fe  ?—  -'tis  monftrous.  To  be  plau\j 
I'd  have  ye  write—  he  can  but  laugh  again. 

Here  lifting  up  my  head,  furpris'd.I  fee 
Ciofe  at  my  elbow,  flattering  vanity, 


*  In  bisjirft 


P    O 

From  her  foft  \cftifpers  foon  I  found  it  came, 
That  I  fuppos'd  myfelf  not  one  of  them. 
Alas  !  how  eafily  ourfclves  we  footh ! 
I  fear,  in  juftice,  he  muft  laugh  ut  both. 

For  vanity  abafh'd,  up  to  my  ear 
Steps  honeft  truth,  and  thefe  fliarp  words  I  hear ; 
"  Forbear,  vain  bard,  like  them  forbear  thy  lays; 
"  Alike  to  Pope  fuch  cenfure  and  fuch  praife, 
"  Nor  that  can  fink,  nor  this  exalt  his  name, 
tt  Who  owes  to  virtue  and  himfclf  his  fame." 

ON  GOOD  AND  ILL-NATURE. 

TO  MR.  POPS. 

IN  virtue's  caufe  to  draw  a  daring  pen, 

Defend  the  good,  encounter  wicked  men  : 

Freely  to  praife  the  virtues  of  the  few, 

And  boldly  cenfure  the  degenerate  crew. 

To  fcorn,  with  equal  juftice,  to  deride 

The  poor  man's  worth,  or  footh  the  great  one's 

pride ; 

All  this  was  once  good-nature  thought,  not  ill; 
Nay,  fome  there  are  fo  odd  to  think  fo  ftill. 
Old-faftiion'd  fouls !  your  men  of  modern  tafte, 
Are  with  new  virtue,  new  politenefs  grac'd. 
Good-nature  now  has  chang'd  her  honeft  face, 
For  fmiling  flattery,  compliment,  grimace: 
Fool  grins  at  fool,  each  coxcomb  owns  his  brother 
And  thieves  and  (harpers  compliment  each  other 
To  fuch  extent  good-nature  now  is  fpread, 
To  be  fincere  is  monftroufly  ill-bred: 
An  equal  brow  to  all  is  now  the  vogue, 
And  complaifance  goes  round  from  rogue  to  rogue 
If  this  be  good — 'tis  glorioufly  true, 
The  moft  iil-natur'd  man  alive  is  you. 

THE  CAVE  OF  POPE. 

A  PROPHESY. 

WHEN  dark  oblivion,  in  her  fable  cloak 

Shall  wrap  the  names  of  heroes  and  of  kings ; 

And  their  high  deeds,  fubmitting  to  the  ftroke 
Of  time,  fhall  fall  amongft  forgotten  things  : 

Then  (for  the  mufe  that  diftant  day  can  fee) 
On  Thames's  bank  the  ftranger  fhall  arrive, 

With  curious  wifh  thy  facred  grott  to  fee, 
Thy  facred  grott  (hall  with  thy  name  furvive. 

Grateful  pofterity,  from  age  to  age, 
With  pious  hand  the  ruin  fhall  repair: 

Some  good  old  man,  to  each  inquiring  fage, 
Pointing  the  place,  (hall  cry, The  bard  liv'd  there, 

Whofe  fong  was  mufic  to  the  liftening  ear, 
Yet  taught  audacious  vice  and  folly  (hamc  j 

Eafy  his  manners,  but  his  life  fevere  ; 
His  word  alone  gave  infamy  or  fame. 


Sequefter'd  from  the  fool  and  coxcomb  wit. 
Beneath  this  tilent  roof  the  mufe  he  found } 

'Twas  here  he  flept  infpir'd,  or  fat  and  writ, 
Here  with  his  friends  the  focial  glafs  went  round. 

With  awful  veneration  fhall  they  trace 

The  fteps  which  thou  fo  long  before  haft  trod; 

With  reverend  wonder  view  the  folemn  place, 
From  whence  thy  geqius  foar'd  to  nature's  Cod. 


M    S.  w, 

Then,  fome  fmall  gem,  or  mofs,  or  fhinme  oar 
Departing,  each  (hall  pilfer,  in  fond  hope 

To  pleafe  their  friends,  on  every  diftant  fhore. 
Boafting  a  relic  from  the  Cave  of  Pope. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OK  MR.  POPE. 

COME,  ye  whofe  fouls  harmonious  founds  infpire 
Friends  to  the  mufe,  and  judges  of  her  W ; 

Who,  catching  from  the  bard  his  heavenly  fire, 
Soar  as  he  loars,  fublimely  rapt  along;  fart 

Mourn,  mourn  your  loft:  he's  gone  who  had  the 

\\  lib  founds  to  footh  the  ear,  with  fenfe  to  warm 
the  heart. 

Who  now  fhall  dare  to  lift  the  facred  rod,    [law  ? 

1  ruth's  faithful  guard,  where  vice  efcape*  the 
Who  now,  high  fearing  to  the  throne  of  God, 

In  nature's  moral  caufe  his  pen  (hall  draw  ? 
Let  none  pretend ;  he's  gone,  who  had  the  art 
With  founds  to  footh  the  ear,  with  fenfe  to  warm 
the  heart. 

Vice  now  fecure  her  blufhlefs  front  fhall  raife, 

And  all  her  triumph  be  through  Britain  borne ; 
Whofe  worthkfs  fons  from  guilt  (hall  purchafe 

praife,  ( 

Nor  dread  the  hand  that  pointed  them  to  fcorn ; 
No  check  remains ;  he's  gone,  who  had  the  art 
With  founds  to  footh  the  ear,  with  fenfe  to  warm 
the  heart. 

Ye  tunelefs  bards  now  tire  each  venal  quill, 

And  from  the  public  gather  idle  pence ; 
Ye  taftelefs  peers,  now  build  and  plant  your  fill, 
Though  fplendour  borrows  not  one  jay  from 

fenfe ; 

Fear  no  rebuke ;  he's  gone,  who  had  the  art 
With  founds  to  footh  the  ear,  with  fenfe  to  warm 
the  heart. 

But  come,  ye  chofen,  ye  fele&ed  few,          « 
Ye  next  in  genius,  as  in  friendfhip,  join'd, 

The  focial  virtues  of  his  heart  who  knew, 
And  dated  all  the  beauties  of  his  mind ; 

Drop,  drop  a  tear ;  he's  gone,  who  had  the  art 

With  founds  to  charm  the  ear,  with  fenfe  to  warm 
the  heart. 

And,  O  great  (hade !  permit  thy  humbleft  friend 
His  figh  to  waft,  his  grateful  tear  to  pay 

Thy  honour'd  memory;  and  condefcend         [lay, 
To  hear,  well-plea*' d,  the  weak,  yet  well-meant 

Lamenting  thus  :  he's  gone,  who  had  the  art 

With  founds  to  footh  the  car,  with  fenfe  to  warm 
the  heart. 

MODERN  REASONINCf. 

AN  El'ZSTlE. 


WHINCE  cwnea  it,  JL— ,  that  ev'ry  fool, 
n  reafon's  fpite,  in  fpite  of  ridicule, 
?ondly  his  own  wild  whims  for  truth  maintain*, 
And  all  the  blind  deluded  world  difdain* 
•limfelf  the  only  pcrlon  bleft  w  ith  fight, 
And  his  opinion  the  great  rule  of  right  ? 

*Ti»  ftrange  from  folly  this  conceit  (hould  ri.le, 
Ths:  want  of  fenfe  fhould  make  w*  think      ' 
wife; 


i«4  THE   WORKS 

Yet  fo  it  is.    The  mofh  egregious  elf 

Thinks  none  fo  wife  or  witty  as  himfelf. 

Who  nothing  knows,  will  all  things  comprehend ; 

And  who  can  Icaft  confute,  will  moft  contend. 

I  love  the  man,  I  love*him  from  my  foul, 
Whom  neither  weaknefs  blinds,  nor  whims  con- 

troul ; 

With  learning  bleft,  with  folid  reafon  fraught, 
Who  flowly  thinks,  and  ponders  every  thought : 
Yet  confcious  to  himfelf  how  apt  to  err, 
Suggcfts  his  notions  with  a  modeft  fear; 
Hears  every  reafon,  every  paffion  hides, 
Debates  with  calmnefs,  and  with  care  decides;' 
-More  p'.eas'd  to  learn,  than  eager  to  confute, 
Not  victory,  but  truth,  his  fole  purfuit. 

But  thefe  are  very  rare.    How  happy  he 
Who  taftcs  fuch  converfe,  L  .       ,  with  thee ! 
Each  focial  hour  is  fpent  in  joys  fublime, 
Whilft  hand  in  hand  o'er  learning's  Alps  you  climb ; 
Through  reafon' s  paths  in  fearch  of  truth  proceed, 
."•.  d  clear  the  flow'ry  way  from  every  weed ; 
Till  from  her  ancient  cavern  rais'd  to  light, 
The  beauteous  ftranger  {lands  reveal'd  to  fight. 

How  far  from  this  the  furious  noify  crew, 
Who,  what  they  once  affert,  with  zeal  purfue  ? 
Their  greater  right  infer  from  louder  tongues ; 
And  fli  ength  of  argument  from  ftrength  of  lungs, 
Inftead  of  fenfe,  who  ftun  your  ears  with  found, 
And  think  they  conquer,  when  they  but  confound. 
Taurus,  a  bellowing  champion,  ftorms  and  fwears, 
And  drives  his  argument  through  both  your  ears ; 
And  whether  truth  or  falfehood,  right  or  wrong, 
'Tis  flifl  maintained,  and  prov'd  by  dint  ofrr- 

tongue. 

In  all  difputes  he  bravely  wins  the  day, 
No  wonder — for  he  hears  not  what  you  fay. 

But  though  to  tire  the  ear's  fufficient  curfe, 
To  tire  one's  patience  is  a  plague  ftill  worfe. 
Plato,  a  formal  fage,  debates  with  care, 
A  ftrong  opponent,  take  him  up  who  dare. 
His  words  are  grave,  deliberate,  and  cool," 
He  Ift-ks  fo  wHe — 'tis  pity  he's  a  fool. 
If  he  allerts,  though  what  no  man  can  dpubt, 
He'il  bring  ten  thoufand  proofs  to  make  it  out. 
This,  this,  and  this — is  fo,  and  fo,  and  fo ;    [know, 
And   therefore,   therefore — that,    and   that,   you 
Circles  no  angles  have  ;  a  fquare  has  four  : 
A  fquare's  no  circle  therefore — to  be  fure. 
The  fum  of  Plato's  wond'ro.us  wifdom  is, 
This  is  not  that,  and,  therefore,  that  not  this. 

Oppos'd  to  him,  but  much  the  greater  dunca, 
Is  he  who  throws  all  knowledge  off  at  once. 
The  fir  ft  for  every  trifle  will  contend  ; 
.But  this  has  no  opinions  to  defend. 
Tn  fire  no  heat,  no  fweetnefs  in  the  rofe; 
Thf  man's  irripos'd  on  by  his  very  nofe ; 
Nor  light  nor  colour  charms  his  doubting  eye, 
The  world's  a  dream,  and  all  his  fenfes  lie. 
He  thinks, :yet  doubts  if  he's  poffefs'd  of  thought; 
Nay,  even  doubts  his  very  power  to  doubt. 
Afic  him  if  he's  a  man,  or  beaft,  or  bird, 
He  carmoi  tell,  upon  his  honeft  word. 
'Tig  ftranee  fo  plain  a  point's  fo  hard  to  prove ; 
I'll  tell  you  what  you  are — a  fool,  by  Jove. 

Another  clafs  of  difputants  there  are, 
More  num'rous  than  the  doubting  tribe  by  far. 
Thefe  are  your  wanderers,  who  from  the  point 
Run  wild  in  ioofi.  harangues,  all  oat  of  joint. 


OF   DODSLEY. 

Vagarious,  and  confute  him  if  you  can, 

Will  hold  debate  with  any  mortal  man. 

He  roves  from  Genefis  to  Revelations, 

And  quite  confounds  you  with  divine  quotations, 

Should  you  affirm  that  Adam  knew  his  wife, 

And  by  that  knowledge  loft  the  tree  of  life  ; 

He  contradicts  you,  and,  in  half  an  hour, 

AToft  plainly  proves — Pope  Joan,  the  fcarlet  whore, 

Nor  head  nor  tail  his  argument  affords, 

A  jumbling,  incoherent  mafs  of  wo* Is; 

Moft  of  them  true,  but  fo  together  toft 

Without  connection,  that  their  fenfe  is  loft. 

But,  leaving  thefe. to  rove,  and  thofe  to  doubt, 
Another  clan  alarms  us  ;  face  about :  • 
See,  arm'd  with  grave  authority  they  come, 
And  with  great  names  and  numbers  Itrike  us  dumb. 
With  thefe  an  error  ven'rable  appears,  • 
For  having  been  believ'd  three  thoufand  years. 
Reafon,  nay  common  fenfe,  to  names  muft  fall, 
And  ftrength  of  argument's  no  ftrength  at  all. 
But  on,  my  mufe,  though  multitudes  oppofe  us, 
Alas  !  truth  is  not  prov'd  by  counting  nofes : 
Nor  fear,  though  ancient  fages  are  fubjoin'd ; 
A  lie's  a  lie,  though  told  by  all  mankind. 
'Tis  true,  I  love  the  ancients — but  what  then  ? 
Plato  andAriftotle  were  but  men. 
I  grant  'em  wife — the  wifeft  difagree, 
And  therefore  no  fufficient  guides  for  me. 
An  error,  though  by  half  the  world  efpous'd, 
Is  ftill  an  error,  and  may  be  oppos'd ; 
And  truth,  though  much  from  mortal  eyes  con* 

ceal'd, 

Is  ftill  the  truth,  and  may  be  more  reveal'd. 
How  foolifti  then  will  look  your  mighty  wife, 
Should  half  their  ipfc  dixits  prove  plain  lies  ! 

But  on,  my  mule,  another  tribe  demands  . 
Thy  cenfurc  yet :  nor  fhould  they  'fcape  thy  hands, 
Thefe  are  the  paffionate,  who  in  difpute 
Demand  fnbmiffion,  monarchs  abfolute. 
Sole  judges,  in  their  own  conceit,  of  wit, 
They  damn  all  thofe  for  fools  that  won't  fubmit. 
Sir  Tefty  (thwart  Sir  Tefty  if  you  dare) 
Swears  there's  inhabitants  in  every  ftar. 
If  you  prefume  to  fay  this  mayn't  be  true, 
You  lie,  Sir,  you're  3  fool  and  blockhead  too. 
What  he  afferts,  if  any  difbelieve, 
How  folks  can  be  fo  dull  he  can't  conceive. 
He  knows  he's  right;  he  knows  his  judgment*^ 

clear; 

But  men  are  fo  perverfe  they  will  not  hear. 
With  him,  Swift  treads  a  dull  trite  beaten  way; 
In  Young  no  wit,  no  humour  fmiles  in  Gay; 
Nor  truth,  nor  virtue,  Pope,  adorns  thy  page ; 
And  Thomfon'a  liberty  corrupts  the  age. 
This  to  deny,  if  any  dare  prefume, 
Fool,  coxcomb,  fot,  and  puppy,  fill  the  room. 
Hillario,  who  full  well  this  humour  knows, 
Reiblv'd  one  day  his  folly  to  expofe, 
Kindly  invites  him  with  ibme  friends  to  dine, 
And  entertains  'em  with  a  roaft  firloin  : 
Of  this  he  knew  Sir  Tefty  could  not  eat, 
And  purpofcly  prepaf'd  it  for  his  treat. 
The  reft  begin — Sir  Tefty,  pray  fall  to — 
You  love  roaft  beef,  Sir,  come — I  know  you  do, 
"  Excufe  me,  Sir,  'tis  what  I  never  eat." 
How,  Sir  !  not  love  roaft  beef!  the  king  of  meat  J 
"  'Tis  true  indeed."    Indeed  it  h  not  true ; 
I  love  it,  Sir,  and  you  mufl  love  it  too. 


*    O    E 

"  I  can't,  upon  my  word."  Then  you're  a  fool, 
And  don't  know  what's  go«d  eating,  by  my  foul. 
Not  love  roaft  beef! — come,  come,  firs,  fill  his 

plate, 

I'll  make  him  love  it — Sir,  G —  d-~  ye,  eat. 
Sir  Telty  finding  what  it  was  they  meant, 
Rofe  in  a  palfion,  and  away  he  went. 

RELIGION. 

A    SIMILE. 

I'M  often  drawn  to  make  a  ftop, 

And  gaze  upon  a  picture-fhop. 

There  have  I  feen  (as  who  that  tarries 

Has  not  the  fame)  :  a  head  that  varies ; 

And  as  in  different  views  expos'd, 

A  diff 'rent  figure  is  uifclob'd. 

This  way  a  fool's  head  is  exprefs'd, 

Whofe  very  connt'nance  is  a  jeft  ; 

Such  as  were  formerly  at  court,  , 

Kept  to  make  wifer  people  fport. 

Turn  it  another  way,  you'll  have 

A  face  ridiculoufly  grave, 

Something  betwixt  the  fool  and  knave. 

Again,  but  alter  the  pofition, 

You're  frighted  with  the  apparition : 

A  hideous  threatening  Gorgon  head 

Appears,   enough  to  fright  the  dead. 

But  place  it  in  its  proper  light, 

A  lovely  face  accofts  the  fight ; 

Our  eyes  are  charm'd  with  every  feature, 

We  own  the  whole  a  beauteous  creature. 

Thus  true  religion  fares.    For  when 
By  filly,  or  defigning  men, 
In  falfe  or  foolifli  lights  'tis  plac'd, 
'Tis  made  a  bugbear,  or  a  jeft. 
Here,  by  a  fet  of  men,  'tis  thought 
A  fcheme,  by  politicians  wrought, 
To  ftrengthen  and  enforce  the  law, 
And  keep  the  vulgar  more  in  awe : 
And  theie,  to  (how  fublimer  parts, 
Caft  all  religion  from  their  hearts ; 
Brand  all  its  vot'ries  as  the  tools 
Of  priefts,  and  politician's  fools. 

Some  view  it  in  another  light, 
Lefs  wicked,  but  as  foolifh  quite : 
And  thefe  are  fuch  as  blindly  place  it 
In  fuperftitions  that  difgrace  it ; 
And  think  the  eflenee  of  it  lies 
In  ceremonious  fooleries ; 
In  points  of  faith  and  fpeculation, 
Which  tend  to  nothing  but  vexation. 
With  thefe  it  is  a  heinous  crime 
To  cough  or  fpit  in  fermon  time  : 
'Tis  worfe  to  whiftle  on  a  Sunday, 
Than  cheat  their  neighbours' on  a  Monday  : 
To  dine  without  firft  faying  grace,  is 
Enough  to  lofe  in  heaven  their  places ; 
But  goodnefs,  honefty,  and  virtue, 
Are  what  they've  not  the  leaft  regard  to. 

Others  there  are,  and  not  a  few, 
Who  place  it  in  the  bugbear  view  ! 
Think  it  confifts  in  ftrange  feverities ; 
Jn  fadings,  weepings,  and  aufterities. 
Pa!fe  notions  their  weak  minds  po fiefs, 
Of  faith,  and  grace,  and  holinefs  : 
And  as  the  Lord's  of  purer  eyes 
Than  to  behold  iniquities ; 


M    S.  . 

They  think,  unlefs  they're  pure  and  fpotlcfs, 
All  their  endeavours  will  be  bootlefs; 
And  dreadful  furies  in  sternum, 
In  unconfuming  fires  will  burn  'em. 

But  O,  how  happy  are  the  few, 
Who  place  it  in  its  proper  view  ! 
To  thefe  it  liunes  divinely  bright, 
No  clouds  oblcure  its  native  light ; 
Truth  (lamps  conviction  in  the  mind, 
All  doubts  and  fears  are  left  behind, 
And  peace  and  joy  at  once  an  entrance  find. 

PAIN  AND  PATIENCE: 

AN   ODE. 

To  fcourge  the  riot  and  intemperate  luft, 

Or  check  the  felf-iuflicient  pride  of  man. 
Offended  Heaven  fent  forth,  in  vengeance  juft, 

The  dire  inexorable  fury,  pain; 
Beneath  whofe  griping  hand,  when  (lie  afTails, 
The  firmed  fpirits  fink,  the  ftrongelt  realbning 
fails. 

Near  to  the  confines  of  th'  infernal  den, 

Deep  in  a  hollow  cave's  profound  recefs. 
Her  courts  Ihe  holds ;  and  to  the  fons  of  mea 

Sends  out  the  mimfters  of  dire  diftrefs : 
Repentance,  fliame,  defpair,  each  acts  her  part, 
Wliets  the  vindictive  Iteel,  and  aggravates  the 
{mart. 

He,  whofe  luxurious  palate  daily  rang'd 

Earth,  air,  and  ocean,  to  fupply  his  board; 
And  to  high-relifliM  poifons  madly  chang'd 
The  vvholefome  gifts  of  nature's  bounteous 

lord; 

Shall  find  fiu^c  naufcoirs  furfeit  taint  his  blood ; 
And  his  abus'd  pall'd  ftomach  lothe  the  daiatieft 

food. 

The  midnight  reveller's  intemperate  bowl. 
To  rage  and  riot  fires  his  furious  brain; 
Remorfe  enfues,  and  agony  of  foul, 

His  future  life  condemn'd  to  ceafelefs  paini 
Gout,  fever,  ftone,  to  madnefs  heighten  grief; 
And  temparance,  call'd  too  late,  affords  him  n* 

relief; 

He  whofe  hot  blood  excites  to  dangerous  joy, 
And  headlong  drives  to  feek  the  lewd  em 
brace, 
Startled  at  length,  Ihall  in  his  face  defcry 

The  mark  indelible  of  foul  difgrace: 
Ulcers  obfcene  corrode  his  aching  bones; 
And  his  high  raptures  change  to  deep-felt  Gghs 

and  groans. 

The  wild  extravagant,  whofe  thoughtlefs  hand. 
With   lavifli   taftelefs  pride,  commits  ex- 
pence, 
Ruin'd,  perceives  his  waining  age  demand 

Sad  reparation  for  his  youth's  offence : 
Upbraiding  riot  points  to  follies  paft, 
Prefenting  hollow  want,  fit  fucceflbr  to  wafle. 
He  too,  whofe  high  prefuming  health  defies 
Th'  almighty  hand  of  Heaven  to  poll  him 

down ; 

Who  flights  the  care  and  caution  of  the  ^'^ 
Nor  fears  hot  fummer'i  rage,  nor 
frown ; 


THE  WORKS   or  EODSLEY. 


Some  trifling  ail  (hall  feize  this  mighty  man  ; 
Blaft  all  his  boafted  ftrength,  rack  every  nerve 
with  pain. 

Thus  nature's  God  inflicts,  by  nature's  law, 

On  every  crime  its  proper  punifhrnent ; 
Creating  pain  to  keep  mankind  in  awe, 

And  moral  ills  by  phyfical  prevent : 
Tn  wrath  ftill  gracious ;  claiming  ftill  our  praife, 
£v'n  in  thofe  very  groans  our  chaftifements  mall 
raife. 

But  left  the  feeble  heart  of  fuffering  man 

Too  low  fliould  fink  beneath  the  keen  diflrefs; 
Left  fell  defpair,  in  league  with  cruel  pain, 
Should  drive   him  defperate   in   their  wild 

exccfs ; 

Kind  hope  her  daughter  patience  fent  from  high, 
To  cafe  the  labouring  bread,  and  wipe  the  trick 
ling  eye. 

Hail,  mild  divinity  !  calm  patience,  hail ! 
Soft-handed,  meek-ey'd  maid,  yet  whofe  firm 

breath, 
And  ftrong  perfuafive  eloquence  prevail 

Againft  the  rage  of  pain,  the  fear  of.death : 
Come,  lenient  beauty,  fpread  thy  healing  wing, 
And  fmooth  my  reftlefs  couch,  whilft  I  thy  praifes 
fing. 

In  all  this  toilfome  round  of  weary  life, 

Where  dullnefs  teazes,  or  pert  noife  aflails ; 
Where  trifling  follies  end  in  ferious  ftrife, 
And  money  purchafes  where  merit  fails; 
What  honeft  fpirit  would  not  rife  in  rage, 
If  patience  lent  not  aid  his  paffion  to  afluage  ? 

No  ftate  of  life  but  muft  to  patience  bow : 

The  tradefman  muft  have  patience  for  his  bill; 
He  mud  have  patience  who  to  law  will  go  ; 

And  fliould  he  lofe  his  right,  more  patience 
Yea,  to  prevent  or  heal  full  many  a  ftrife,     [ftill ; 
How  oft,  how  Jong  muft  man  have  patience  with 
his  wife  ? 

But  Heav'n   grant  patience  to  the  wretched 

wight, 

Whom  pills,  and  draughts,  and  bolofles  a  (Tail ! 
Which   he    muft  fwallow  down  with    all   his 
might;  .  [rits  fail. 

Ev'n  then,  when  health,  and  ftrength,  and  fpi- 
Dear  doctors,  find  fome  gentler  ways  to  kill ; 
^.ighten  this  load  of  drugs,  contract  yon  length  of 
bill. 

When  the  dull,  prating  loud,  long-winded  dame, 

Her  tedious,  vague,  unmeaning  tale  repeats; 

Ferplex'd  and  wand'ring  round  and  round  her 

theme, 

Till  loft  and  puzzled,  flie  all  theme  forgets ; 
Yet  ftill  talks  on  with  unabating  fpeed ; 
Good  gods !    who  hears  her  out,  muft  patience 
have  indeed. 

So  when  fome  grave,  deep-learned,  fonnd  divine 

Afcencls  the  pulpit,  and  unfolds  his  text : 
Dark    and    more  dark  grows  what  he  would 

define, 

And  every  fentence  more  and  more  perplex'd; 
Yet  ftill  he  blunders  on  the  fame  blind  courfe, 
Teaching  his  weary'd  hearers  patience  upon  force. 


Without  firm  patience  who  eouW  ever  bear 

The  great  man's  levee,  watching  for  a  fmile? 
Then,  with  a  whifper'd  promife  in  his  ear, 

Wait  its  accomplishment  a  long,  long  while; 
Yet  through  the  bounds  of  patience  if  he  burft, 
Daniel's  long  weeks  of  years  may  be  accomplifli'd 
firft. 

O  patience  !  guardian  of  the  tempered  breaft, 

Againft  the  infolence  of  pride  and  power; 

Againft  the  wit's  keen  fneer,  the  fool's  dull  jeft  ; 

,  Againft  theboafter's  lie,  told  o'er  and  o'er  ; 
To  thee  this  tributary  lay  I  bring,  ["ng« 

By  whofe  firm  aid  empower'd,  in  raging  pain  I 

KITTY. 

A    PASTORAL. 

BENEATH  a  cool  made,  by  the  fide  of  a  ftream, 
Thus  breath'd  a  fond  mepherd,    his   Kitty    his 

theme : 

Thy  beauties  comparing,  my  deareft,  faid  he» 
There's  nothing  in  nature  fo  lovely  as  thee. 

Though  diftance  divides  us,  1  view  thy  dear  face 
And  wander  in  tranfport  o'er  every  grace ; 
Now,  now  I  behold  thee,  fweet-fmiling  and  pretty, 

0  gods!  you've  made  nothing  fo  fair  as  my  Kitty ! 

Come,  lovely  idea,  come  fill  my  fond  arms, 
And  whilft  in  foft  rapture  I  gaze  on  thy  charms, 
The  beautiful  objects  which  round  me  arife, 
Shall  yield  to  thofe  beauties  that  live  in  thine 
eyes. 

Now  Flora  the  meads  and  the  groves  does  adorn. 
With  flowers  and  blollbms  on  every  thorn  ; 
But  look  on  my  Kitty  !— there  fweetly  does  blow, 
A  fpring  of  more  beauties  than  Flora  can  fliow. 

See,  fee  how  that  rofe  there  adorns  the  gay  bufh, 
And   proud   of  its  colour,  would  vie  with  her 

blufli. 

Vain  boafter  !  thy  beauties  mall  quickly  decay, 
She  blufhes— -and  fee  how  it  withers  away. 

Obferve  that  fair  lily,  the  pride  of  the  vale, 
In  whitenefsumivall'd,  now  droop  aud  look  pale; 
It  fickens,  and  changes  its  beautiful  hue, 
And  bows  down  its  head  in  fubmiftion  to  you. 

The  zephyrs  that  fan  me  beneath  the  cool  (hade, 
When  panting  with  heat  on  the  ground  I  am  laid. 
Are  lefs  grateful  and  fweet  than  the  heavenly  air 
That  breathes  from  her  lips  when  flie  whifperi— 
my  dear. 

1  hear  the  gay  lark,  as  flic  mounts  in  the  flde*, 
How  fweet  are  her  notes !    how  delightful  her 

voice  ! 

Go  dwell  in  the  air,  little  warbler,  go  ! 
I  have  mufic  enough  while  my  Kitty's  below. 

With  pleafure  I  watch  the  inrluftrious  bee, 
Extracting  her  fweets  from  each  flower  and  tree  t 
Ah  fools  1  thus  to  labour  to  keep  you  alive  ; 
Fly,  fly  to  her  lips,  and  at  once  fill  your  hive. 

See   there,    on  the  top  of  that  oak,    how   the 

doves 

Sit  brooding  each  other,  and  cooing  their  loves : 
Our  loves  are  thus  tender,  thus  mutual  our  joy§ 
When  folded  on  each  other's  bofcra  we  lie. 


POEMS. 


It  glads  me  to  fee  how  the  pretty  young  lambs 
Are  fondled,  and  cherifli'd,  and  lov'd  by  their  dams: 
The  lambs  are  lefs  pretty,  my  deareft,  than  thee  ; 
The'ir  dams  are  lefs  fond,  nor  fo  tender  as  me. 

As  I  gaze  on  the  river  that  fmoothly  glides  by, 
Thus  even  and  fweet  is  her  temper,  I  cry  ; 
Thus  clear  is  her  mind,  thus  calm  and  ferene, 
And  virtues,  like  gems,  at  the  bottom  are  feen. 

Here  various  flowers  ftill  paint  the  gay  fcene, 
And  as  fome  fade  and  die,  others  bud  and  look 

green ; 

The  charms  of  my  Kitty  are  conftant  as  they ; 
Her  virtues  will  bloom  as  her  beauties  decay. 

But  in  vain  I  compare  her,    here's  nothing  fo 

bright ; 

And  darknefs  approaches  to  hinder  my  fight : 
To  bed  I  will  haften,  and  there  all  her  charms, 
In  fofter  ideas,  I'll  bring  to  my  arms. 

COUNTS  KISSES. 
SONG  I. 

THE  TUTOR, 

COME,  my  faireft,  learn  of  me, 

Learn  to  give  and  take  the  blifs ; 
Come,  my  love,  hereS  none  but  we, 

C'll  inftrucl  thee  how  to  kifs. 
"Why  turn  from  me  that  dear  face  ? 

Why  that  blufh  and  downcaft  eye  ? 
Come,  come,  meet  my  fond  embrace, 

And  the  mutual  rapture  try. 

Throw  thy  lovely  twining  arms 

Round  my  neck,  or  round  my  waift ; 
And  whilft  I  devour  thy  charms, 

Let  me  clofely  be  embrac'd : 
Then  when  foft  ideas  rife, 

And  the  gay  defires  grow  ftrong ; 
Let  them  fparkle  in  thy  eyes. 

Let  them  murmur  from  thy  tongue. 

To  my  breaft  with  rapture  cling. 

Look  with  tranfport  on  my  face, 
JLifs  me,  prefs  me,  every  thing 

To  endear  the  fond  embrace. 
Every  tender  name  of  love, 

In  foft  whifperi  let  me  hear ; 
And  let  fpeaking  nature  prove 

Every  ecftafy  fincere. 

SONG  II. 

THE  IMAGINARY  KISS. 

WHEN  Fanny  I  faw  as  fhe  tipt  o'er  the  green, 

Fair,  blooming,  foft,  artlefs,  and  kind  : 
Fond  love  in  her  eyes,  wit  and  fenfe  in  her  mien, 

And  warmnefs  with  modefty  join'd  : 
Tranfported*  with  fudden  amazement  I  flood, 

Faft  ri vetted  down  to  the  place; 
Her  delicate  (hape,  eafy  motion  I  view'd, 

And  wander'd  o'er  every  grace. 

Ye  gods  1  what  luxuriance  of  beauty,  I  cry, 
What  raptures  muft  dwell  in  her  arms '. 

On  her  lips  I  could  feaft,  on  her  breaft  I  could  die, 
P  F»nnr.  how  fwett  are  thy  charms ! 


Whilft  thus  in  idea  my  paffion  I  fed, 

Soft  tranfport  my  fenfes  invade,  (fled, 

Young  Damon  (tepp'd  up,  with  the  fubiUace  he 

And  left  jue  to  kits  the  dear  fliid  j. 

SONG  III. 

THE   MAST. 

POLLY,  when  your  lips  you  join. 
Lovely  ruby  lips  to  mine ; 
To  the  bee  the  flow'ry  field 
Such  a  banquet  does  not  yield ; 
Not  the  dewy  morning  rofe 
So  much  fweetnefs  does  enclofe  ; 
Not  the  gods  fuch  neftarlip, 
As  Colin  from  thy  balmy  lip : 
Kifs  me  then,  with  rapture  kifs, 
We'll  furpafs  the  gods  in  bliu. 

SONG  IV. 

THE  STOLEN  KISS. 

ON  a  mofly  bank  reclin'd, 

Beauteous  Chloe  lay  repofing, 
O'er  her  breaft  each  am'rous  wind 

Wanton  play'd,  its  fweets  difclofing  j 
Tempted  with  the  fwelling  charms, 

Colin,  happy  fwain,  drew  nigh  her, 
Softly  ftole  into  her  arms, 

Laid  his  fcrip  and  (beep-hook  by  her, 

O'er  her  downy  panting  breaft 

His  delighted  fingers  roving  j 
To  her  lips  bis  lips  he  preft, 

In  the  ecftafy  of  loving : 
Chloe,  waken'd  with  his  kifs, 

Pleas'd,  yet  frowning  to  conceal  it, 
Cry'd,  true  lovers  (hare  the  blifc  ? 

Why  then,  Colin,  would  you  fteal  it  J 

SONG  V. 

THE  MEETING  KISS, 

LET  me  fly  into  thy  arms : 
Let  note  tafte  again  thy  charms ; 
Kifs  me,  prefs  me  to  thy  breaft, 
In  raptures  not  to  be  expreft. 

Let  me  clafp  thy  lovely  waift ; 
Throw  thy  arms  around  my  neck; 

Thus  embracing  and  embrac'd, 
Nothing  Ihall  our  raptures  check. 

Hearts  with  mutual  pleafure  glowing  j 
Lips  with  lips  together  growing ; 
Eyes  wiih  tears  of  gladnefs  flowing ; 
Eyes,  and  lips,  and  hearts  (hall  mow, 
Th'  excefs  of  joy  that  meeting  lovers  know. 

SONG  VI. 

THE   PARTING  KISS. 

ONE  kind  kifs  before  we  part, 

Drop  a  tear  and  bid  adieu  : 
Though  we  fever,  my  fond  heart 

Till  we  meet  fhall  pant  for  you. 

Yet,  yet  weep  not  fo,  my  love. 
Let  me  kits  that  falling  tear, 


xeS 


THE  WORKS  OF  DODSLEY. 


Though  my  body  mufl  remove, 
All  my  foul  will  flill  be  here. 

All  my  foul,  and  all  my  heart, 

And  every  wifh  fhall  pant  for  you ; 

One  kind  kifs  then  e'er  we  part, 
Drop  a  tear  and  bid  adieu. 

SONG  VII. 

THE  BORROWED  KISS. 

SEE  I  languifh,  fee  I  faint, 

I  muft  borrow,  beg,  or  fteal ; 
Can  you  fee  a  foul  in  want, 

And  no  kind  compaffion  feel  ? 
Give,  or  lend,  or  let  me  take 

One  fweet  kifs,  I  afk  no  more ; 
One  fweet  kifs,  for  pity's  fake, 

I'll -repay  it  o'er  and  o'er. 

Cliloe  heard,  and  with  a  finite, 

Kind,  compaffionate,  and  fweet, 
Colin,  'tis  a  (in  to  fteal, 

And  for  me  to  give's  not  meet : 
But  I'lMend  a  kifs  or  twain, 

To  poor  Colin  in  diftrefs ; 
IjTot  that  I'd  be  paid  again, 

Colin,  I  mean  nothing  lefs. 

SONG  VIII. 

THE  KISS  REPAID. 

CHLOK,  by  that  borrow'd  kifs, 

I,  alas  !  am  quite  undone  ; 
'Twas  fo  fweet,  fo  fraught  with  blifs, 

Thoufands  will  not  pay  that  one. 

Left  the  debt  fliould  break  your  heart, 
Roguifh  Chloe  fmiling  cries, 

Come,  a  hundred  then  in  part, 
For  the  prefent  fhall  fuffice* 

SONG  IX. 

THE  S'ECRET  KISS, 

AT  the  filent  evening  hour, 
Two  fond  lovers  in  a  bower 

Sought  their  mutual  blifs ; 
Though  her  heart  was  juft  relenting, 
Though  her  eyes  feem'd  juft  confenting, 

Yet  fhe  fear'd  to-  kifs, 
Since  this  fecret  fhade,  he  cry'd, 
Will  thofe  rofy  blufhes  hide, 

Why  will  you  refift  ? 
When- no  tell-tale  fpy  is  near  us, 
£ye  not  fees,  nor  ear  can  hear  us, 

Who  would  not  be  ki&'d  ? 
Molly  hearing  what  he  faid, 
Blufhing  lifted  up  her  head, 

Her  bread  foft  wiflies  filf; 
Since,  flie  cry'd  no  fpy  is  near  us, 
Eye  not  fees,  nor  ear  can  hear  us, 

K.ifs— — or  what  you  will* 

SONG  X. 

THE  RAPTURE. 

WHILST  on  thy  dear  boforn  lying, 
a,  who  can  fpeakmy  bii£Lv 


Who  the  raptures  I'm  enjoying1, 

When  thy  balmy  lips  J  kifs  ? 
Every  look  with  Idve  infpires  me, 

Every  touch  my  bofom  warms, 
Every  melting  murmur  fires  me, 

Every  joy  is  in  thy  arms. 

Thofe  dear  eyes,  how  foft  they  languifh ! 

Feel  my  heart  with  rapture  beat  1 
Pleafure  turns  almoft  to  anguifli, 

When  the  tranfport  is  fo  fweet.          . 
Look  not  fo  divinely  on  me, 

Caelia,  I  fliall  die  with  blifs ; 
Yet,  yet  turn  thofe  eyes  upon  me, 

Who'd  not  die  a  death  like  this  ? 

SONG  XI. 

THE    RECONCILING  KISS. 

WHY  that  fadnefs  on  thy  brow  ? 

Why  that  ftarting  cryftal  tear? 
Deareit  Polly,  let  me  know,      . 

For  thy  grief  I  cannot  bear. 
Polly  with  a  figh  reply'd, 

What  need  I  the  caufe  impart  ? 
Did  you  not  this  moment  chide  ? 

And  you  know  it  breaks  my  heart. 
Colin,  melting  as  fhe  fpoke, 

Caught  the  fair  one  in  his  arms : 
O  my  dear  1  that  tender  look. 

Every  paffion  quite  difarms : 
By  this  dear  relenting  kifs, 

I'd  no  anger  in  my  thought ; 
Come,  my  love,  by  this,  and  this, 

Let  our  quarrel  be  forgot. 
As  when  fudden  ftormy  rain, 

Every  drooping  fiowret  i'poils; 
When  the  iuu  fliines  out  again, 

All  the  face' of  nature  fmiles: 
Polly,  fo  reviv'd  and  cheer'd 

By  her  Colin's  kind  embrace, 
Her  declining  head  uprear'd, 

Sweetly  fmiling  iu  his  face. 

SONG  XII. 

THE  MUTUAL  KISS. 

C/ELIA,  by -thofe  fmiling  graces, 

Which  my  panting  bofom  warm  ; 
By  the  heaven  of  thy  embraces, 

By  thy  wond'rous  power  to  charm; 
By  thofe  foft  bewitching  glances, 

Which  my  inmoit  bofom  move  ; 
By  thofe  lips^  whofe  kifs  entrances, 

Thee,  and  thee  alone  I  love. 

By  thy  godlike  art  of  loving, 

Cselia,  with  a  blufli,  replies ; 
By  thy  heavenly  power  of  moving1, 

All  my  foul  to  fympathize  ! 
By  thy  eager  fond  careffes, 

By  thofe  arms  around  me  thrown  j 
By  .that  look,  which  truth  expreffes, 

My  found  heart  is  all  thy  own. 

Thus  with  glowing  inclination, 
They  indulge  the  tender  blif*  j 

And  to  bind  the^  lafting  paffion, 
Seal  it  with  a  mutual  kits. 


POEMS. 


Clofe,  in  fond  embraces,  lying, 

They  together  feem  to  grow  ; 
/  Such  fupreme  delight  enjoying, 
As  true  lovers  only  know. 

THE  WIFE :  A  FRAGMENT. 

THE  virtues  that  endear  and  fweeten  life, 
And  form  that  foft  companion,  call'd  a  wife ; 
Demand  my  fong.     Thou  who  didft  firft  infpire 
The  tender  theme,  to  thee  I  tune  the  lyre. 

Hail,  lovely  woman !  nature's  bleffing,  bail  I 
WhWe  charms  o'er  all  the  powers  of  man  prevail: 
Thou  healing  bairn  of  life,  which  bounteous  hea- 
To  pour  on  all  our  woes,  has  kindly  given  !      [ven, 
What  were  mankind  without  thee  ?  or  what  joy, 
Like  thy  foft  converfe,  can  his  hours  employ  ? 
The  dry,  dull,  drowfy  bachelor  furveys, 
Alternative,  joylefs  nights  and  lonefome  days : 
No  tender  tranfports  wake  his  fullen  breaft, 
No  foft  endearments  lull  his  cares  to  reft : 
Stupidly  free  from  nature's  tendereft  ties, 
Loft  in  his  own  fad  felf  he  lives  and  dies. 
Not  fo  the  man,  to  whom  indulgent  Heavtn 
That  tender  bofom-friend,  a  wife,  has  given : 
Him,  bleft  in  her  kind  arms,  no  fears  difmay, 
No  fecret  checks  of  guilt  his  mind  allay : 
No  hufband  wrong'd,  no  virgin  honour  fpoil'd, 
No  anxious  parent  weeps  his  ruin'd  child  1 
No  fell  difeafe,  no  falfe  embrace  is  here, 
The  joys  are  fafe,  the  raptures  are  ftncere. 
Does  fortune  fmile  ?  How  grateful  muft  it  prove 
To  tread  life's  pleafing  round  with  one  we  love ! 
Or  does  flie  frown  ?  The  fair  with  foftening  art, 
Will  footh  our  woes,  or  bear  a  willing  part. 
*'  But  are  all  women  of  the  foothing  kind  ? 

**  In  choofing  wives  no  hazard  lhall  we  find  ? 

"  Will  fpleen,  nor  vapours,  pride,  nor  prate  mo- 

*'  A  nd  is  all  fear  of  cuckoldom  a  jeft  ?"         [left  ? 
Grant  fome  are  bad  :  yet  furely  fome  remain, 

Good  without  (how,  and  lovely  without  ftain  ; 

Warm  without  lewdnefs ;  virtuous  without  pride ; 

Content  to  follow,  yet  with  fenfe  to  guide. 

Such  is  Fidelia,  faireft,  fondeft  wife  ; 

Obferve  the  picture,  for  I  draw  from  life. 

Near  that  fam'd  hill,  from  whofe  enchanting 
brow 

Such  various  fcenes  enrich"  the  vales  below ; 

While  gentle  Thames,  meandering  glides  along, 

Meads,  flocks,  and  groves,  and  riling  towers  a- 
mong, 

Fidelia  dwelt :  fair  as  the  faireft  fcene 

Of  trailing  nature,  when  the  fky's  ferene. 

Full  fizteen  Summers  had  adorn'd  her  face, 

Warm'd  every  fenfe,  and  waken'd  every  grace ; 

Her  eye  look'd  fweetnefs,  gently  heav'd  her  breaft 

Her  fhape,  her  motion,  graceful  cafe  expreft. 

And  to  this  fair,  this  finim'd  form,  were  joiu'd 

The  fofteft  paffions,  and  the  pureft  mind. 

ROME'S  PARDON:  A  TALE. 

*'  If  Rome  can  pardon  fins,  as  Romans  bold ; 
"  And  if  thofe  pardons  may  be  bought  and  fold 
"  It  were  no  fin  t*  adore  and  worlhip  gold." 

ROCHESTER 

|T  h*ppen'd  on  a  certain  time, 

T*o  feijoiors,  who  bad  ipent  the  prime 


)f  youth  in  every  wickednefs, 

'ame  to  his  Holinefs  to  confefs ; 

}f  which,  the  one  had  riches  (lore, 

The  other  (wicked  wretch)  !  was  poor. 

Jut  both  grown  old,  had  now  a  mind 

To  die  in  peace  with  all  mankind ; 

And  go  to  heaven  a  nearer  way 

Than  thofe  who  all  their  life-time  pray  : 

Which  may  effected  be  they  hope, 

3y  buying  pardon  of  the  Pope. 

So  calling  frefh  to  mind  their  Gns, 

The  rich  offender  thus  begins. 
"  Moft  holy  father,  I  have  been, 

'  I  muft  confefs,  in  many  a  fin. 

"  All  laws  divine  I've  thought  a  joke ; 

'*  All  human  laws  for  intereft  broke. 

"  And  to  increafe  my  ill-got  (lore, 

<'  Thought  it  no  crime  t'  opprefs  the  poor; 

"  To  cheat  the  rich,  betray  my  friends, 

"  Or  any  thing  to  gain  my  ends. 

"  But  now  grown  old,  and  near  to  Uie, 

"  I  do  repent  me  heartily 

"  Of  all  my  vile  offences  pad, 

"  And  in  particular  the  laft, 

'•  By  which  I  wickedly  beguiFd 

'«  A  dead  Friend's  fon,  my  guardian  child, 

"  Of  all  his  dear  paternal  ftore, 

"  Which  was  ten  thoufand  pounds  or  more ; 

"  Who  fince  is  ftarv'd  to  death  by  want, 

"  And  now  fincerely  I  repent : 

"  Which  that  your  Holinefs  may  fee, 

"  One  half  the  fum  I've  brought  with  me, 

"  And  thus  I  caft  it  at  your  teet, 

"  Difpofe  of  it  as  you  think  meet, 
"  To  pious  ufes,  or  your  own, 

"  I  hope  'twill  all  my  faults  atone. 

"  Friend,"  quoth  the  Pope,   "  I'm  glad   t* 
"  fee 

"  Such  true  repentance  wrought  in  thee ; 
"  But  as  your  fins  are  very  great, 
"  You  have  but  half  repented  yet : 
"  Nor  can.  your  pardon  be  obtain'd,  •> 

"  Uulefs  the  whole  which  thus  you've  gain'd,    > 
"  To  pious  ufes  be  ordain'd.  j 

"  All !"  cry'd  the  man,  "  I  thought  that  half 
"  Had  been  a  pretty  price  enough." 

"  Nay,"  quoth  the  Pope,  "  fir,  if  you  ham 
"  And  haw  at  parting  with  the  fum, 
"  Go,  keep  if,  do  ;  and  damn  your  fool ; 
"  I  tell  you,  I  muft  have  the  whole. 
"  'Tis  not  a  little  thing  procures 
"  A  pardon  for  fucb  fins  as  yours." 
Well — rather  than  be  doom'd  to  go, 
To  dwell  with  everlafting  woe, 
One  would  give  any  thing,  you  know: 
So  th'  other  half  was  thrown  down  to't, 
And  then  he  loon  obtain'd  his  fuit ; 
A  pardon  for  bis  fins  was  given. 
And  home  he  went  affur'd  of  heaven. 

And  now  the  poor  man  bends  bit  knee ; 
'*  Moft  holy  father,  pardon  me, 
"  A  poor  and  humble  penitent 
"  Who  all  my  fubftance  wilely  fp*nt, 
"  In  every  wanton,  youthful  pleafure  ; 
*  But  now  I  fuffer  out  of  mealore ; 
'*  With  dire  difeafrs  being  friaght 
"  Aod  eke  fo  poor  not  worth  a  groftt.? 


I 


THE   WORKS  OF  DODSLEY". 


"  Poor  !  quoth  the  Pope,  then  ceafe  your  fuit, 
41  Indeed  you  may  as  well  be  mute  ; 
"  Forbear  your  now  too  late  contrition, 
"  You're  in  a  reprobate  condition. 
"  What !  fpend  your  wealth,  and  from  the  whole 
*'  Not  fave  one  foufe  to  fave  your  foul  ? 
4<  O,  you're  a  finner,  and  a  hard  one, 
4t  I  wonder  you  can  afk  a  pardon : 
•*'  Friend,  they're  not  had,  unlefs  you  buy  'em, 
4'  You're  therefore  damn'd,  as  fure  as  I  am — 
41  Vicegerent  to  the  king  of  heaven  : 
«'  No,  no,fuch  fins  can't  be  forgiven. 
*'  I  cannot  fave  you  if  I  would, 
*'  Nor  would  I  do  it  if  I  could." 

Home  goes  the  man  in  deep  defpair, 
And  died  foon  after  he  came  there  ; 
And  went,  'tis  faid,  to  hell :  bat  fure 
He  was  not  damn'd  for  being  poor  ! 
But  long  he  had  not  been  below, 
Before  he  faw  his  friend  come  too  ; 
At  this  he  was  in  great  furprife, 
And  fcarcely  could  believe  his  eyes: 
"  What,  friend,  faid  he,  are  you  come  too  ? 
"  I  thought  the  Pope  had  pardon'd  you. 
"  Yes,  quoth  the  man,  I  thought  fo  too  ; 
"  But  I  was  by  the  Pope  trepann'd — 
"  The  devil  could  not  read  his  hand." 


AT  HIS  FIRST  COMING  TO  COURT. 

FORGIVE  me,  Duck,  that  fuch  a  mufe  as  mine, 
Brings  her  weak  aid  to  the  fupport  of  thine ; 
In  lines,  which  if  the  world  fhould  c.iance  to  fee, 
They'd  find  I  pleaded  for  myfelf — in  thee. 

Yet  fome  indulgence  fure  they  ought  to  fhow 
An  infant  poet,  and  unlearn'd  as  you ; 
TJnfkill'd  in  art,  unexercis'd  to  fing  ; 
I've  juftbut  tafted  the  Pierian  fpring: 
But  though  my  ftock  of  learning  yet  is  low ;       "> 
Though  yet  my  number?  don't  harmonious  flow,  > 
T.  fain  would  hope  it  won't  be  always  fo.  J 

The  morning  fun  emits  a  ftronger  ray, 
Still  as  he  riles  tow'rds  meridian  day  : 
Large  hills  at  firft  obftruct  the  oblique  beam, 
And  dark'ning  fhadows  moot  along  the  gleam ; 
Impending  roifts  yet  hover  in  the  air, 
And  diftant  objects  undiftinct  appear. 
But  as  he  rifes  in  the  eaftern  Sky, 
The  fhadows  fhrink,  the  conquer'd  vapours  fly ; 
Objects  their  proper  forms  and  colours  gain  ; 
In  all  her  various  beauties  fhines  th'  enlighten'd 
plain. 

So  when  the  dawn  of  thought  peeps  out  in  man, 
Mountains  of  ign'rance  fliade  at  firft  his  brain? 
A  gleam  of  reafon  by  degrees  appears, 
Which  brightens  and  increafes  with  his  years ; 
And  as  the  rays  of  thought  gain  ftrength  in  youth, 
Dark  mifts  of  error  melt  and  brighten  into  truth. 

Thus  afking  ign'rance  will  to  knowledge  grow ; 
Conceited  fools  alone  continue  fo. 
On  then,  my  friend,  nor  doubt  but  that  in  time} 
Our  tender  mufes,  learning  how  to  climb, 
May  reach  perfection's  top,  and  grow  fublime.  j 
The  Iliad  fcarce  was  Homer's  firft  effay  ; 
Virgil  wrote  not  his  ^SLneid  in  a  day  : 
Nor  is'f  impoffible  a  time  might  be, 
When  Pope  and  Prior  wrote  like  you  and  ffle. 


'Tis  true,  more  learning  might  their  works  arlortf, 

They  wrote  not  from  a  pantry  nor  a  barn  : 

Yet  they,  as  well  as  we,  by  flow  degrees 

Muft  reach  perfection,  arid  to  write  with  eafe. 

Have  you  not  feen  ?  Yes,  oft  you  muft  have  fcen 

When  vernal  funs  adorn  the  woods  with  green, 

And  genial  warmth,  enkindling  wanton  love, 

Fills  with  a  various  progeny  the  grove, 

The  tim'rous  young,  juft  ventur'd  from  the  neft, 

Firft  in  low  bufties  hop,  and  often  reft  ; 

From  twig  to  twig,  their  tender  wings  they  try, 

Yet  only  flutter  when  they  feem  to  rly. 

But  as  their  ftrength  and  feathers  more  increafe, 

Short  flights  they  take,  and  fly  with  greater  eale  : 

Experienc'd  foon,  they  boldly  venture  higher, 

Forfake  the  hedge,  to  lofty  trees  afpire  ; 

Tranfported  thence,  with  ftrong  and  fteady  wing 

They  mount  the  flues,  and  foar  alofr,  and  fing. 

So  you  and  I,  juft  naked  from  the  fhell, 
In  chirping  notes  our  future  finging  tell ; 
Unfeather'd  yet,  in  judgment,  thought,  or  fkill, 
Hop  round  the  bafis  of  Parnaffus'  hill: 
Our  flights  are  low,  and  want  of  art  and  ftrength, 
Forbids  to  carry  us  to  the  wifh'd-for  length. 
But  fledjg'd,  and  cherifh'd  with  a  kindly  fpring, 
We'll  mount  the  fumrnit,  and  melodious  fing. 

AN  EPITAPH. 

HERE  lie  the  remains  of  Caroline, 
Queen  confort  of  Great  Britain, 

Whofe  virtues 

Her  friends,  when  living,  knew  and  enjoy'd  ; 
Now  dead,  her  foes  confefs  and  admire. 
Her  ambition  afpired  to  wifdom, 

And  attain'd  it ; 

To  knowledge, 
And  it  fill'd  her  mind. 

Patronefs  of  the  wife, 

And  a  friend  of  the  good, 
She  look'd,  and  modeft  merit  rais'd  its  head  ; 
She  fmil'd,  and  weeping,  woe  grew  glad. 

Religion,  plain  and  fimple, 

Dignify'd  her  mind, 
"Defpifing  forms  and  ufelefs  pageantry. 
Morals,  clear  and  refin'd, 

Dwelt  in  her  heart, 
And  guided  all  her  actions. 
Virtue  Ihe  lov'd,  beneath  her  fmile  it  flourifli'd ; 
She  frown'd  on  vice,  and  it  was  put  to  fhame. 

In  fine, 

Her  life  was  a  public  blefling ; 
Her  death  is  an  univerfal  lofs. 
O  reader  !  if  thou  doubted  of  thefe  things, 
Afk  the  cries  of  the  fatherlefs,  they  (hall  tell  thee, 
And  the  tears  of  the  widow  fliall  confirm  their 

truth : 

The  fons  of  wifdom  mall  teftify  of  her, 
And  the  daughters  of  virtue  bear  her  wifnefs  ;     . 
The  voice  of  the  nation  fhall  applaud  her, 
And  the  heart  of  the  king  (hall  figh  her  praife. 

TO  RICHES. 

Humlly  Infcribed  to  the  Right  Hon.  — * 
To  fuccour  all  whom  grief  or  care  opprefs,, 
To  raife  neglected  merit  from  diftrefs, 


POEMS. 


The  dying  arts  t'  encourage  and  revive, 
And  independent  of  mankind  to  live ; 
This,  this  is  riches'  grand  prerogative. 
Thefe  all  the  wife  and  good  with  joy  purfue, 
And  thoufands  feel,  andblefs  their  power  in  you. 

But  flay,  ray  mufe,  nor  rafhly  urge  thy  theme, 
Examine  well  thy  candidates  for  fiime ; 

Thy  verfe  is  praife.     Confider very  few 

Can  juftly  fay  one  fingle  line's  their  due: 
Scorn  thou  with  generous  freedom  to  record, 
Without  his  juft  credentials,  duke  or  lord: 
An  honeft  line  prefer  to  a  polite, 
So  mail  thy  praife  no  confcious  blufh  excite. 

But  as  to  paint  a  lovely  female  face, 
With  every  charm  adorn' d,  and  every  grace, 
Requires  a  finer  hand,  and  greater  care, 

Than  the  rough  features  of  a  H r  ; 

So  praife  than  fatire  aflcs  a  nicer  touch ; 
But  finilh'd  well,  there's  nothing  charms,  fo much. 
A  mining  character  when  drawn  with  art, 
Like  beauty,  whilft  it  pleaies,  wins  the  heart. 

Mecsenas  firft  the  noble  lift  fliall  grace, 
Learning's  great  patron  merits  the  firft  place. 
O  dear  to  every  mufe !  to  every  art ! 
Virtue's  chief  friend !  fupporter  of  defert ! 
Is  there  a  man,  thougk  poor,  defpit'd,  oppreft, 
Yet  whofc  fuperior  genius  fhines  confeft ; 
Whether  the  ufeful,  arts.  his.  foul  iufpirc, 
Or  the  politer  mufe's  facred  fire, 
Learning  and  arts  t'  encourage  and  extend  ? 
In  thee  he  finds  a,  pairon  and  a  friend. 

Wealth  thus  beftow'd,  returns  in  lafting  fame, 
A  grateful  tribute  to  the  donor's  name. 

Next  him  from  whom  true  virtue  meets  reward, 
ts  he  who  {hows  to  want  a  kind  regard. 
Carus,  though  bleft  with  plenty,  eaie,  and  health, 
His  every  want  fupply'd  from  boundlefs  wealth, 
Yet  feels  humanity :  his  foul  o'erflows 
To  fee,  or  hear,  or  think  on  others  woes. 
Is  there  a  wretch  with  pinching  want  oppreft  ? 
His  pain,  till  eas'd,  is  felt  in  Carus'  breaft. 
Does  any  languifh  under  dire  difeafe  ? 
Carus  prefcribes,  or  pays  the  doctor's  fef «. 
Has  fad  misfortune  fatal  ruin  thrown, 
jind  fome  expiring  family  undone  ? 
Cafes  repairs,  and  makes  the  lofs  his  own. 
To  hev  the  widow's  or  the  orphan's  cries, 
His  foul  in  pity  melts  into  his  eyes: 
O  manly  te.ndernefs !  good-natur'd  grief, 
To  feel,  to  fympathize,  and  give  relief. 

Sure  gods  are  Cams'  debtors.   Gold  thus  given, 
Lies  out  at  intervft  in  the  bank  of  heaven. 

But  where's  th'  advantage  then,  will  Corvus 

fay, 

If  wealth  is  only  lent  to  give  away  ? 
•Corvus,  were  that  the  fole prerogative, 
How  great,  how  godlike  is't'he  power  to  give ! 
Thou  canft  not  feel  it :  True,  'tis  too  divine 
For  fuch  a  felfifh  narrow  foul  as  thine. 
Comes  is  rich,  belov'd  by  all  mankind, 
To  cheerful  hofpitality  inclin'd ; 
His  ponds  with  fifh,  with  fowl  his  woods  arc  ftor'd, 
Inviting  plenty  fmiles  upon  his  board  : 
Eafy  and  free,  his  friends  his  fortune  fhare, 
Ev'n  travelling  ftrangers  find  a  welcome  there; 
Neighbours,  domeftks,  all  enjoy  their  parts, 
He  in  return  poflellss  all  their  heart?, 


Who,  foolifh  Conrva,  -who  but  th«e  will  fay, 
That  Comes  idly  throws  his  wealth  away  ? 

Is  then  die  noble  privilege  to  give, 
The  fole  advantage  we  from  wealth  receive ! 
Whilft  others  wants  or  merits  we  fupply, 
Have  we  ourfelvcsno  title  to  enjoy  ? 
Doubtlefs  you  have.  A  thoufand  different  ways 
Wealth  may  be  fclf-enjoy'd,and  all  with  praifc. 
Whom  truth  and  reafon  guides,  or  genius  fires, 
Never  need  fear  indulging  his  defires. 
Butfhou'd  pretending  coxcombs,  from  Uusrulc, 
Plead  equal  privilege  to  play  the  fool  ? 
The  mulie  forbids.  She  only  gives  to  fcnle 
The  dangerous  province  to  contrive  expence. 
Marcus  in  fumptuous  buildings  takrs  delight, 
His  houfe,  his.  gardens  charm  th«  ravifl»'d  iijjht : 
With  beauty  ui'e,  with  grandeur  neafnel's  joins, 
And  order  with  magnificence  combines. 
"Fis  coftly:   True,  but  who  can  blame  th'  ex- 
pencc  [fcnfe  ?" 

'  Where  fplendour  borrows  all  h»r  rays  from 

Sylvio  retirement  loves ;  fmooth  cryftal  floods, 
Green  meadows,  hills  and  dales,  and  verdaat 

woods 

Delight  his  eye;  the  warbling  birds  to  hear, 
With  rapture  fills  his  foul,  and  charms  his  ear. 
In  fliady  walks,  in  groves,  in  fecret  bowers, 
Plann'd  by  himfelf,  he  fpendsthe  peaceful  hours: 
Here  ferious  thought  purfues  her  thread  fcrenc, 
No  interrupting  follies  intervene ; 
Propitious  filence  aids  th'  attentive  mind, 
The  God  of  nature  in  his  works  to  find. 

If  this  t'  enjoy  affords  him  moft  delight, 
Who  fays  that  Sylvio  is  not  in  the  right  ? 

Publius  in  curious  paintings  wea'.th  confumej, 
The  heft,  the  fineft  hands  adorn  his  rooms ; 
Various  defigns,  from  each  enliven 'd  wall,       £alF. 
Meet  the  pleas'd  eyes,  and  fomething  charms  io 
Here  well-drawn  landfkips  to  the  r.iiud  convey 
A  fmiling  country,  or  a  ftorrny  fea ; 
Towns,  houfes,  trees,  diverfify  the  plain, 
And  mips  in  danger  fright  us  from  the  main. 
There  the  paft  actions  of  illuftriout  men, 
In  ftrong  defcription  charm  the  world  agen  : 
Love,  anger,  grief,  in  different  fcenes  are  wrought, 
All  its  juft  paflions  animates  die  draught. 
But  fee  new  charms  break  in  a  flood  of  day, 
See  loves  and  graces  on  the  canvafs  play ; 
Beauty's  imagm'd  fmiles  our  bofom  warm, 
And  light  and  fhadc  retains  the  power  to  charm. 

Who  cenfures  Publius,  or  condemns  his  coft, 
Muft  wifh  the  noble  art  oT  painting  loft. 

Whilft  Publius  thus  his  taftc  in  painting  fliow», 
Critus  admires  her  fifter  art,  the  mufe. 
Homer  and  Virgil,  Horace  and  Boileau 
Teach  in  his  breaft  poetic  warmth  to  glow. 
From  thefe  inftru<fted,  and  from  thefe  infpir'd, 
Critus  for  tafte  and  judgment  is  admir'd. 
Poets  before  him  lay  the  work  of  years, 
And  from  hisfentence  draw  their  hopes  and  fear*' 
Hail,  judge  impartial !  noble  critic  hail  ? 
In  this  thy  day,  good  writing  muft  prevail : 
Our  bards  from  you  will  hence  be  what  thty 

fhou'd, 
Pleafe  and  improve  us,  make  us  wife  and  good. 

Thus  blefs'd  with  wealth,  his  genius  each^pur- 
In  bujdin£,planuBg,.paiflUag,or.thc  mule. ' 


si* 

O  envy'.:!,  prwer  I — But  you'll  object  and  fay, 

How  tew  tmn'oy  it  in  this  envy' d  way  ? 

With  all  Lis  heaps  did  Chremes  e'er  do  good  ? 

No  •  But  they  give  him  power,  if  once  he  wou'd  : 

'Tis  not  ''n  riches  to  create  the  will, 

Mifers,  in  fpite  of  wealth,  are  mifers  ftill. 

It  is- for  gold  the  lawlefs  villain  fpoils! 

*Tis  for  the  fame  the  honcft  lab'rer  toils. 

Does  wealth  to  floth,  to  luxury  pervert  ? 

Wealth  too  excites  to  induflry,  to  arr: 

Many,  no  doubt,  through  power  of  wealth  op- 

prefs, 

But  fome,  whom"  Heaven  reward,  delight  to  blefs ! 
Then  blame  not  gold,   that  men  are  proud  or 

vain, 

Slothful  or  covetous;  but  blame  the  man. 
When  right  affections  rule  a  generous  heart, 
Gold  may  refine,  but  feldom  will  pervert. 

THE  PETITION. 

THE  various  fuppliants  which  addrefs 

Their  pray'rs  to  Heaven  on  bended  knees, 

All  hope  alike  for  happinefs, 

Yet  each  petition  difagrees. 

Fancy,  not  judgment,  conftitutes  their  blifs; 

The  wife,  no  doubt,  will  fay  the  fame  of  this. 

Ye  gods,  if  you  remember  right, 

Some  eighteen  years  ago, 
A  form  was  made  divinely  bright, 

And  fent  for  us  t'  admire  below 
I  firft  diftinguifh'd  her  from  all  the  reft,  „ 
And  hope  you'll  therefore  think  my  title  beft. 

I  afk  not  heaps  of  mining  gold, 

No,  if  the  gods  vouchfafe 
My  longing  arms  may  her  hifold, 

I'm  rich-,  I'm  rich  enough  ! 
Riches  at  beft  can  hardly  give  content ; 
But  having  her,  what  is  there  I  can  want  ? 

I  afk  riot,  with  a  pompous  train 

Of  honours,  all  tji'  world  t'  outbrave  ; 
The  title  I  wou'd  wifli  to  gain, 

IS) — Her  molt  fav'rite  flave : 
To  bow  to  her,  a  greater  blifs  wou'd  be 
Than  kings  and  princes  bowing  down  to  me. 

To  rule  the  world  with  power  fupreme, 

Let  meaner  foul?  afpire  ; 
To  gain  the  fov'reignty  from  them 

I  ftoop  not  to  defire : 

Give  me  to  reign  fole  monarch  in  her  breaft, 
Let  petty  princes  for  the  world  conteft. 

JLet  libertines,  who  take  delight 

In  riot  and  excefs, 
Thus  wafte  the  day,  thus  fpend  the  night, 

W-hilil  I  to  joys  fublimer  prefs  : 
CWp'd  in  her  fnowy  arms  fuch  blifs  I'd  prove, 
As  never  yet  was  found,  or  felt  in  love. 

la  fhort,  I  afk  you  not  to  live 
A  tedious  length  of  days ; 
Old  ae;e  can  little  pieafure  give, 

When  heakh  and  ftrength  decays: 
Let  hut  what  time  I  have  be  fpent  with  her.'s, 
j>ck  foment  will  be' wwth  a  thoufand  yeaw; 


THE   WORKS   OF  DdDSLEY. 


AN  EPITHALAMIUM. 

HENCE,  hence  all  dull  cares, 

All  quarrels  and  jars, 
Ye  factious  difturbers  of  pieafure,  avoid ! 

Content,  love,  and  joy, 

-Shall  their  powers  employ,  , 

To  blefs  the  glad  bridegroom  and  beautiful  bride: 

Anger  (hall  ne'er  prefume 

To  come  within  this  room ; 

No  doubt  nor  anxious  fear, 

Nor  jealous  thought  fhall  enter  here. 
Ill-nature,  ill  manners,  contention,  and  pride, 
Shall  never,  fhall  never  the  union  divide. 
O  the  pleafing,  pleafing  raptures, 
Read  in  Hymen's  nuptial  chapters  t 

Love  commencing, 

Joys  difpenfmg ; 

Beauty  fmiling, 

Wit  beguiling ; 

Kindnefs  charming, 

Fancy  warming ; 

Kifling,  toying, 

Melting,  dying ; 

O  the  pleaiing;  pleafTng  raptures ! 
•  ' 

THE  ADVICE. 

DOST  thou,  my  friend,  defire  to  rife 
To  honour,  wealth,  and  dignities  ? 
Virtue's  paths,  though  trod  by  few, 
With  conftant  fteps  do  thou  purfue. 
For  as  the  coward-foul  admires 
That  courage  which  the  brave  infpires ; 
And  his  own  quarrels  to  defend, 
Gladly  makes  fuch  a  one  his  friend ; 
So  in  a  world  which  rogues  infeft, 
How  is  an  honeft  man  carefs'd  ! 
The  villains  from  each  other  fly, 
And  on  his  virtue  fafe  rely. 

A  LAMENTABLE  CASE. 

SUBMITTED  TO  THE  BATH  PHYSICIAN^. 

YE  fam'd  phyficians  of  this  place, 
Hear  Strephon's  and  poor  Chloe's  cafe. 

Nor  think  that  I  am  joking ; 
When  flic  wou'd,  he  cannot  comply, 
When  he  wou'd  drink,  flic's  not  a-dyy ; 

And  is  not  this  provoking  ? 

At  night,  when  Strephon  come? to  reft, 
Chloe  receives  him  on  her  b«2aft> 

With  fondly-folding  ar*ns: 
Down,  down  he  hangs  his  drooping  head^ 
Falls  faft  afleep,  ap<* lies  as  dead, 

Neglecting  all  her  charms. 

Reviving  \vften  the  morn  returns, 

With  rifyig  flames  young  Strephon  burns, 

And  fain,  wou'd  fain  be  doing: 
B;it  Chloe  now,  afleep  or  fick, ' 
Has  no  great  relifh  for  the  trick, 

And  i'adly  baulks  his  wooing. 

O  cruel  and  difaft'rous  cafe, 
When  in  the  critical  embrace 


POEMS. 


That  only  one  is  burning ! 
Dear  Doctors,  fet  this  matter  right, 
Give  Strephon  fpirits  over  night, 

Or  Chloe  in  the  morning. 

A  LADY'S  SALUTATION 

TO  HER  GARDEN  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

WELCOME,  fair  fcene  ;  welcome,  thou-lov'd  re 

treat, 

From  the  vain  hurry  of  the  bu filing  great. 
Here  let  me  walk,  or  in  this  fragrant  hower, 
Wrap'd  in   calm  thought  improve  each  fleeting 

hour. 

My  foul  while  nature's  beau-ties  feaft  mine  eyes, 
To  nature's  God  contemplative  (hall  rife. 

What  are  ye  now,  ye  glittering,  vain  delights, 
Which  wafte  our  days,,  and  rob  us  of  our  nights  ? 
What  your  allurements  ?  what  your  fancy'd  jo\s? 
Drefs,  equipage,  and  ihow,  and  pomp,  and  noife 
Alas !  how  tailelefs  thefe,  how  low,  how  mean, 
To  the  calm  pleafures  of  this  rural  fcene  ? 

Come   then   ye  (hades,  beneath   your  bending 

arms 

Enclofe  the  fond  admirer  of  your  charms ; 
Come  then  ye  bowers  receive  your  joyful  gueft, 
Glad  to  retire,  and  in  retirement  bled  ; 
Come,  ye  fair  flowers,  and  open  ev'ry  fweet ; 
Come,  little  birds,  your  warbling fongs  repeat, 
And  O  defcend  to  fweeten  all  the  reft, 
Soft  fmiling  peace,  in  white-rob'd  virtue  dreft  ; 
Content  unenvious,  cafe  with  freedom  join'd, 
And  contemplation  calm,  with  truth  refin'd : 
Deign  but  in  this  fair  fcene  with  me  to  dwell, 
AH  noife  and  nonefenfe,  pomp  and  fhow  farewell. 
And  fee  !  O  fee  !  the  heav'n-born  train  appear! 
Fix  then,  my  heart ;  thy  happinefs  is  here. 

THE  PROGRESS  OF  LOVE. 


BENEATH  the  myrtle's  fecret  (hade, 

When  Delia  blell  my  eyes; 
At  firft  I  view'd  the  lovely  maid 

In  filent  foft  furprife. 
With  trembling  voice,  and  anxious  mind, 

I  foftly  whifpcr'd  love; 
She  blufh'd  a  fmile  fo  fweetly  kind, 

Did  all  my  fears  rernove. 
Her  lovely  \  ielding  form  I  preft, 
i    Sweet  maddening  kiffes  dole ; 
lind  foon  her  fwimming  eyes  coiifeft, 

The  wifb.es  of  her  foul : 
In  wild  tumultuous  blifs,  I  cry, 

O  Delia,  now  be  kind! 

ic  prefs'd  me  clofe,  and  with  a  figh, 

To  melting  joys  refign'd. 

SONG. 

a  poor  deluded  bubble, 
Wand'ring  in  a  mift  of  lies; 
Seeing  falfe,  or  feeing  double, 

Who  wou'd  truft  to  fuch  weak  eyes? 
Yet  prefuming  on  his  fenfes, 

On  he  goes  mod  wond'rous  wife  : 
Doubts  of  truth,  believes  pretences 
t.   Loft  in  error,  lives  and  dies, 
VOL,  XI, 


AN  EPIGRAM. 
Occafiued  6y  tit  tvtrd  «  ,„,   frier»  ;„  thg  f       . 

-volume  ofBIJbcp  Burnef,  Hi/lory. 
ONE  priori  andis  this>  this  all  the  fame 
1  he  poet  from  th'  hittoriun  can  claim! 
No ;  Prior's  verfe  poflcrity  (hall  quote, 
When  'tis  forgot  one  Buxnet  ever  wrote. 

AN  EPIGRAM. 

CRIES  Sylvia  to  a  reverend  dean, 

What  reafon  can  be  given. 
Since  marriage  is  a  holy  thing, 

That  there  are  none  in  heaven  ? 
There  are  no  women,  he  reply'd: 

She  quick  returns  the  jeft— 
Women  there  are  hut  I'm  afraid 

They  cannot  find  a  priefl. 

THE  KINGS  OF  EUROPE. 

A  JEST. 

WHY  pray,  of  late,  do  Europe's  kings 

No  jefter  in  their  courts  admit  ? 
They're  grown  fuch  (lately  folemn  things, 

To  bear  a  joke  they  think  not  fit. 

But  though  each  court  a  jefter  lacks, 

To  laugh  at  monarchs  to  their  face; 
All  mankind  do  behind  their  backs 

Supply  the  honeft  jefter's  place. 

VERSES 

On  tie  Author*  i  jirjl  arrival  at  tie  I.eaftntts, 

1754.  . 

How  fhall  I  fix  my  wandering  eye  ?  Where  find 
The  fource  of  this  enchantment  ?  Dwells  it  in 
'  The  woods  ?  or  waves  there  not  a  magic  wand 
1  O'er  the  tranflucent  waters?  Sure,  unfeen, 
'  Some  favouring  power  directs  the  happy  lines 
:  That   (ketch   thefe  beauties;  fwells  the  rifinjj 

«  hills, 

And  fcoopes  the  dales,  to  nature's  fined  forms, 
Vague,  undetermin'd,  infinite;  untaught 
By  line  or  compafs,  yet  fupremely  fair." 
io  fpake  Philenor,  as  with  raptur'd  gaze 
le  tiavers'd  Damon's  farm  :    From  diflant  plaini 
ie  fought  his  friend's  abode ;  nor  had  the  iam« 
Of  that  new-form'd  Arcadia  reach'd  his  ear. 

And  thus  the  fwain,  as  o'er  each  hill  and  dale, 
"hrough  lawn  or  thicket  he  purfu'd  his  way : 
What  is  it  gilds  rhe  verdure  of  thefe  meads 
With  hues  more  bright  than  fancy  paint*  the 

"  flowers 

Of  Paradife  ?  What  Naiad's  guiding  hand 
Leads  through  the  broidcr'd   vale,  thefe  lucid 

«  rills/ 

That,  murmuring  as  they  flow,  bear  melody 
Along    their   banks ;    and   through   the  vocal 

"  (hades, 

Improve  the  mufic  of  the  woodland  choir  ? 
What  penfive  dryad  rais'd  you  folrmii  irrove, 
Where  minds  contemplative,  at  clofe  of  daf 
'  Retiring,  muff,  o'er  nature's  various  wort* 
U 


XT4  „  THE  WORKS 

'  Her  wonders  venerate,  or  her  fweets  enjoy —     • 
'«  What  room  for  doubt  ?  Some  i  ural  deity, 
"  Prefiding,  fcatters  o'er  th*  unequal  lawns, 
<(  In  beauteous  wildn.fs,  yon  fair-lpreading  trees; 
*'  And  mingling  woods  and  waters,  hills  and  dales, 
*;  And  herds  and  bleating  flocks,  dome{lic  fowl, 
*'  And  thofe  that  fwim  the  lake,  fees  riling  round 
"  More  pleating  landfcapes  than  in  Tcmpe's  vale 
*'  Peneus  water 'd.     Yes,  fome  Sylvan  god 
•'  Spreads  wide  the  varied  profpeft  5  waves  the 
«  woods,  flakes; 

"  Lifts  the  proud  hills,   and  clears  the  ihining 
u  While,  from  the  congregated  waters  pour 'd, 
*c  The  burfling  torrent  tumbles  down  thefteep 
«*  In  foaming  fury ;  £erce,  irregular, 
"  Wild  intejruptecli  crefs'd  with  rocka  and  roots, 
««  And  interwoyen  trees  •  till,  foon  ab(brb'd.> 
*  «  An  opening  cavern  all  its  rage  qntonibs. 
f«  So  vanifh  human  glories  !  fuch  th,e  pomp 
«*  Of  fwelling  warriors,  of  ambitious  king*, 


OF   PODSLEY. 

"  Who  fret  and  flrut  their  hovjr  upon  the  fUge 
"  Of  bufy  life,  and  then  are  lizard  no  more  ! 

"  Yes,  'tis  enchantment  all— And  fee,  the  fpeH*, 
"  The  powerful  incantalions,  magic  verlo, 

"  Infcrib'd  on  every  tice.  alcove,  or  urn • 

"  Spells! — Incantations!   ah,  my  tuneful  friend ! 
"  Ihine  are  the  numbers!  thine  the  woniTrcms- 

«  work  ! 

"  Yet,  great  magician  !  now  I  read  thee  r ight, 
"  And  lightly  weigh  all  forccry,  but  thine. 
'  No  naiad's  leading  Itep  coududs  the  rill  j 
'  Nor  j'ylvan  god  prefidmg  fkirts  the  lawn 
'  In  beauteous  wildnefi  with  fair  fpreadmg  trcee?- 
'  Nor  magic  wand  has  cjrcumferib'd  the  fcene, 
4  ''i'i?  diine  own  taile,  thy  genius  that  prefides, 
'  Nor  needs  th.re  other  duty,  nor  needs 
'  More  potent  fpclls  than  they."— No  more  th« 

fwain, 

For  lo,  his  Damon,  o'er  the  tufted  lawn 
Advancing,  leads  liim  to,  the  locial  dome* 


T  II  £ 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  P 


CHRISTOPHER     SMART. 


SONGS, 

EPIGRAMS, 

IMITATION^ 


Containing 

•  N  THE  DIVINE  ATTRIBUTES, 

BOP-CARO.SN, 

K1LL1AD, 

JUDGMENT  OF  U1CAI, 

•£C«, 

iSff.    \&£*    ^S*Cf 


To  which  Is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


1  4are  to  raife  the  founding  firing, 

The  Poet  of  my  Gad. 


ON  THE  IMMENSITY  OP  TUC  SUPREME  VEIN*. 


EDINBURGH: 
PAINTED  BY  MVND&LL  AND  SOtf,  ROYAL  BANK  C  LOSS. 


• 


• 


•  . 


THE  LIFE  OF  SMART. 

_ 


CHRISTOPHER  SMART  was  born  at  Shipbourne,  in  Kent,  April  n.  1731.  The  family  of  which  he 
was  descended  had  been  long  eftablilhed  in  the  county  of  Durham.  His  grandfather  married  a  Mifs 
Gilpin,  of  the  family  of  the  celebrated  Bernard  Gilpin,  Rector  of  Houghton-le-Spring,  "  the 
Apoftle  of  the  North."  His  father  was  Steward  of  the  eftates  in  Kent,  of  Lord  Barnard,  afterwards 
Earl  of  Darlington,  and  was  poflefled.  of  an  elUte  of  300  1.  a-year,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Step- 
bourne.  Having  been  intended  for  holy  orders,  he  had  a  better  tafte  for  literature  than  is  common 
ly  found  in  country  gentlemen ;  a  tafte  which  he  tranfmitted  to  his  fon. 

In  the  beginning  of  his  life  he  was  of  a  very  delicate  constitution,  having  been  born  earlier  than 
the  natural  period  ;  aird  his  body  being  too  ieeble  to  permit  his  indulging  freely  in  childiih  amuie. 
ments,  his  mind  had  leifure  to  exercife  and  expand  its  powers. 

He  difcovered  a  very  early  tafte  for  poetry ;  and  proved  when  he  was  only  four  years  old,  by  an 
extemporary  eftufion,  that  even  then  he  had  a  relifli  for  verl'e,  and  an  ear  for  numbers. 

He  received  the  rudiments  of  his  education  at  Maidftone  fchool,  from  which  he  was  removed 
when  he  was  eleven  years  old,  on  the  death  of  his  father,  which  happened  at  that  time,  and  fent  by 
his  mother  to  Durham,  that  he  might  have  the  advantages  of  a  good  fchool,  change  of  air,  to  Strength- 
en  a  weakly  frame,  and  the  notice  and  protection  of  his  'father's  relations. 

He  did  not  continue  without  distinction  at  Durham  fchool,  the  matter  of  which,  at  that  time, 
was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dongworth,  an  Etonian,  and  a  man  of  eminent  learning  and  abilities.  His  ad 
diction  to  metre  was  then  fuch,  that  feveral  of  his  fchool-fellows  have  confefled  their  bbligations  to 
him  for  their  firft  fuccefsful  effays  in  Latin  verification. 

The  Ode  to  EthflinAti,  was  written  at  the  age  of  thirteen ;  and  the  Latin  tranflation  of  the  ball 
lad,  when  Fanny  Blooming  Fair,  at  fixteen. 

As  his  father  had  been  Iteward  to  Lord  Barnard,  he  was  very  cordially  received  at  Raby  Caftle, 
•when  abfent,  during  the  holidays,  from  fchool.  In  this  noble  family  he  was  introduced  to  the  ac 
quaintance  of  the  late  Duchefs  of  Cleveland,  who  difcerned  and  patronized  his  talents.  She  alloweJ 
him  forty  pounds  a-year,  till  her  death.  In  the  Ode  to  L-ird  Barnard,  he  alludes  beautifully  to  his 
literary  habits,  and  to  the  fplendour  of  his  connections  at  this  early  period  of  his  life. 

* 

Can  I  forget  fair  Raby't  towers, 

How  awful  and  how  great  !— 
Where  me,  even  me,  an  infant  bard, 

Cleveland  and  Hope  indulgent  heard,  &c. 

He  was  removed  from  Durham  fchool. to  the  univetfity  of  Cambridge,-. when  he  was  fevemUeni 
being  admitted  of  Pembroke  Hall,  Oct/So.  i?39-  , 

Though  the  favourite  Studies  of  this  feat  of  learning  were  not  congenial  with  his  mind,  yet  hi. 
claffical  attainments,  and  poetical  powers  were  fo  eminent,  as  to  attract  the  notice  of  pcrlbus  rot 
very  Strongly  prejud.ced  in  favour  of  fuch  accomplishments.  Such  was  the  fame  of  his  gcmus,  and 
fuch  the  vivacity  of  his  difpofition,  that  his  company  was  very  earneftly  folicited  ;  and  to  fuppreftor 
withhold  our  talents,  when  .the  difplay  of  them  is  repaid  by  adm.ration,  .,  commonly  too  great  an 

effort  for  human  prudence. 

'  While  he  was  the  pride  of  Cambridge,  and  the  chief  poet.cal  ornament  of  that  umverfity,  nc  ruined 
himfelf  by  returning  the  tavern-treats  of  ftrangers,  who  had  invited,  him  as  a  wit,  and  »n  eitraordi- 
nary  perfonage,  in  ordtr  to  boaft  tf  his  acquaintance.  ^ 


si8  TH|E    LIFE   OF  SMART. 

This  focial  fpirit  of  retaliation  quickly  involved  him  in  habits  and  expences,  of  which  he  felt  the 
tonffquence*  during  the  reft  of  his  life. 

His  allowance  from  home  was  fcanty  ;  for  as  his  father  had  died  fuddenly,  and  in  ernbaraffed  cir- 
cumftarices,  his  mother  had  been  compelled  to  fell  the  largeft  part  of  the  family  ellate  at  confiderable 


His  chief  dependence  was  the  afliftance  he  derived  from  his  college,  and  from  the  Duchefs  of  Cleve 
land's  bounty.  Many  diftmguifhed  characters  now  living,  were,  notwithtlanding  of  his  intimate 
acquaintance;  and  it  appears  by  the  Latin  invitation  of  his  friend  Mr.  Sauniiers,  of  King's  College, 
to  fupper,  that  he  knew  how  to  relifn  the  "  feaft  of  reafon.'* 

At  this  early  period  of  his  life  he  was  not  more  remarkable  for  his  learning  than  his  humour,  of 
which  many  example*,  like  tbe  following,  ate  ftill  remembered  by  his  academical  acquaintance 
The  three  beadles  of  tke  unjvicrfity  being  mtn  of  unufual  bulk,  he  is  laid  to  have  charaderifed  them 
in  this  extemporary  fpondiac. 

Pingiiia  tergeminoru-rn  abdomina  bedellomm. 

In  1740-1,  he  wrote  his  Grfk  -Tripos  Poeift.  Datitr  Mumlorum  Pluralitas,  which  was  fuecceded  i« 
the  following  years  by  J\>Iatvrie-f  Q.mdet  i-i  Intrtitr,  ar;d  Mutita  Ofcitaticnum  rropagttiofoiwpotejt 
Meebaniee.  Thefe  veries  have  more  fyitem  and  cfefign  than  is  generally  found  in  the  cornpofitions 
of  yonng  academics  j  »nd  it  is  fom«  argument  of  their  being  well  approved,  that  they  were  all 
thought  worthy  of  a  tr»BiUtio»  into  EngWh  by.  Fawkes,  the  ingenious  tranffator  of  "  Theocritus," 
*'  Anacfeon,"  "  Bion,"  "  Mofchus"  "  Mufeu<,"  and  "  Apollonius  Rhoclius." 

He  was  encooraged  by  tht  commendations  of  his  frretids  to  offer  himfelf  a  candidate  fer  an  uni- 
reifity  fcholaiirrip.  The  yearly  valiM"  of  thtfe  appointments  is  barely  20  1.  ;  but  the  eleftion  .s  open 
to  the  whole  univerfity,  under  the  degree  of  Mafter  of  Arts  ;  and  as  the  electors  are  of  approved 
learning,  and  fix  their  choice  after  the  Uncled  fcrutiny,  the  honour  of  obtaining  a  fcholarflup  is  con 
fiderable. 

It  has  been  faul,  that  upon  this  occafbn,  lie  tranflated  Pope's  "  Ode  on  -S"f  Cecilia1  s  Day  ;"  but  the 
conjecture  is  rendered  improbable  by  the  length  and  labour  of  the  cumpufnion.  But  that  a  fcholar 
equal  to  fuch  a  work,  in  an  impartial  cLtlkal  examination,  fliould  furpals  his  competitors,  is  no  mat 
ter  of  furprife. 

His  extraordinary  fuccefs  in  this  ode,  induced  him  to  turn  his  mind  to  the  tranflation  of  the  "  EiTay 
«n  Man  ;"  and  he  feems  to  have  written  to  Pope  for  his  approbation  ;  who,  in  his  anCwer,  advifes 
him  to  undertake  the  "  hflay  on  Criticifm." 

"  I  would  not/'  Popes  writes  him,  "  give  you  the  trouble  of  tranflating  the  whole  "  Effay"  ;  the 
iwofirft  epiftles  are  already  well  done;  and  if  you  try,  I  could  wifh  it  were  on  the  laft,  which  is  lefs  ab. 
ftracled,  and  more  eafily  falls  into  poetry  and  common  place.  I  believe  the  "  Eilay  on  Criticifm" 
will,  in  general,  be  more  agreeable,  both  to  a  young  writer,  and  to  the  generality  of  readers.  I 
ought  to  take  this  opportunity  cf  acknowledging  the  Latin  trar.flation  of  my  ode,  which  you  fent  me, 
and  in  which,  I  could  fee  little  or  nothing  to  alter,  it  is  fo  exadt.  Believe  me  equally  defirous  of 
doing  you  any  fervice,  and  afraid  of  engaging  you  in  an  art  fo  little  profitable,  though  fo  well  de- 
fcrving,  as  good  poetry." 

It  does  not  appear  that  he  beftowed  any  farther  notice  on  his  tranflator,  excepting  that  he  re- 
f  eive4  hitt  oftte  very  civilly  at  his  houfe  at  Twickenham  ;  and  Smart  feems  to  have  been  induced 
by  his  fuggeftion,  to  undertake  and  finifh  the  Latin  Trcmjlation  of  tbe  F-ffay  on  Criticifm  ;  witk 
jnuch  praife  from  the  learned,  but  without  either  profit  or  |  opularity. 

In  1743,  he  was  admitted  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  .Arts,  and  was  elected  Fellow  of  Pem. 
broke  Hall,  July  3.  1745  ;  and  took  the  degree  of  Maftpr  of  Arts,  1747. 

In  1747,  he  wrote  a  comedy,  called  A  Trip  to  Cambridge  ;  or,  the  Grateful  Fair,  which  war 
acted  by  the  ftudents  of  the  univerfity,  in  Pembroke  College  Hall  ;  the  parlour  of  which  made  the 
green-room.  Of  this  mock-play,  no  remains  have  yet  been  found,  but  a  few  of  the  font  s,  and  the 
Soliloquy  of  the  Princefs  Periwinkle,  containing  his  well-known  fimile  of  the  Collier,  the  Barber, 
and  the  Brickduft-man,  preferved  in  the  Old  Woman*  t  Magazine.  The  prologue  is  printed  in  lh« 
fourUi  volume  of  the  "  Poetical  Calendar." 


THE   LIFE  OF  SMART.  V* 

About  this  time,  he  wrote  feveral  Fables  and  Efiays,  for  The  StitdcM^  or,  Oxford  aad  Cambrutgs 
Mifcetiaujf,  a  periodical  work  of  conltderable  reputation,  in  which  many  of  the  wits  of  both  the 
univerfuies  difplayed  their  talents.  The  paper*  were  pv.blifhed  in  i  vols.'sro,  1748. 

In  17,0,  he  became  candidate  for  Mr.  Seaton'i  reward,  anting  from  the  rent  of  his  Kiding- 
bury  eitate,  left  by  him  to  the  Univerfity  of  Cambridge,  to  be  annually  adjudged  by  the  Vice-Chan* 
eellor,  the  Matter  of  Clare-Hall,  and  the  Greek  Profcffur  for  the  time  being,  to  the  author,  being 
a  Mailer  of  Arts,  of  the  beft  poem  on  "  one  or  other  of  the  attributes  of  the  Supreme  Being,  till 
the  fubjec*  is  exhaufted ;  and  afterwards  on  death,  judgment,  heaven,  bell,  purity  of  heart,  fee. 
or  whatever  elfe  may  be  judged  by  them  to  be  moft  conducive  to  the  honour  of  tb*  Supreme  Being, 
and  recommendation  of  virtue." 

Mr.  Seaton's  will,  dated  Oft.  8.  1738,  hating  been  difputed  by  his  relations,  a  law  fait  com- 
mencsd  between  them  and  die  univerfity  ;  which  terminating  in  favour  of  the  latter,  the  firft  fub- 
ject  given  oat  Was  The  Eternity  of  the  Supreme  £eir/+,  in  which  Smart  had  the  preference ;  and 
for  five  years,  four  of  which  were  in  fuccefiiun,  the  prise  was  difpofed  in  his  favour,  for  his  poeti 
cal  eflays  On  tie  Eternity  cf  tte  SHfirerrx  Being,  1750;  Oft  the  Ifnineftjity  cf  tbe  Supreme  Being, 
1751;  On  tbe  Omniftience  of  tbe  Supreme  Eeiag,  175 1 ;  On  tlit  Power  of  tbe  Supreme  Being, 
»7S3  >  °"  tbeCoodnefs  of  tbe  Supreme  Being,  1755.  The  value  of  the  prize  was  then  about  5- 1. 

In  thcfe  poems  on  the  Divine  Attribute!),  confeltedly  the  rriaft  fmifhed  ol  his  works,  cdnfideixc  irt 
genius,  and  averfiaii  to  the  labour  of  correction,  fometimes  prevailed  over  better  confiderationi. 
The  poem  On  tbe  Divine  Gotnltrtfs.  which  was  written  in  London,  he  fo  long  delayed  to  under 
take,  that  there  was  barely  opportunity  to  write  it  upon  paper,  and  to  fend  it  to  Cambridge, 
by  the  moft  expeditious  conveyance,  w  ithin  the  time  limited  for  receiving  the  compofitions. 

The  (lecifious  of  the  Cambridge  judges  Were,  alffloft  in  every  inltance,  confirmed  by  the  appro- 
bation  of  the  periodical  critics ;  they  admired  the  vein  of  pious  poetry,  which  ran  through  Li* 
prize  poems :  they  were  iliftufe  in  the  praife  of  bis  genius,  though  they  freely  Cenfured  his 
careleffhefs  and  inaccuracy ;  and  they  continued  their  approbation  of  his  compofitions,  till  fana- 
ticifm  (always  fatal  to  juft  thinking),  diftorted  his  ideas,  and  confined  their  applaufe  to  the  talent* 
ef  his  better  day. 

While  he  was  advancing  his  reputation  as  a  poet,  his  extravagance  involving  him  In  debt  with 
vintners,  and  college  cooks,  occaf.oned  his  fellowlhip  to  be  fequcftereJ,  and  obliged  him  to  leave 
the  univerfity. 

In  175*,  he. quitted  college,  and  foon  after  relinquimed  hi*  fcllowfliip,  on  his  marriage  with  Mift 
Anna  Mafia  Carnan,  the  daughter  by  a  former  hufbarrd  of  Mary,  the  wife  of  the  late  Mr.  John  New- 
bery,  "  the  philanthropic  bookfeller,  in  St.  Paul's  church-yard." 

As  he  had  relinquiflied  his  fellow/hip  without  engaging  in  any  of  the  pfufcffions,  he  feeros  to  have 
frufted  for  his  future  maintenance  to  his  powers  as  an  author.  But  he  haJ  either  over-fated  hiJ 
•WH  abilities  and  perftverance,  dr  the  favour  of  the  public. 

Though  Mr.  Newbery,  to  whom  he  was  now  allied,  was  himfelf  a  man  of  genius,  and  a  liberal 
patron  of  genius  in  others,  ytt  the  difficulties  that  had  perplexed  him  at  Cambridge,  purfued  him  to 
London;  to  which  the  expence  of  a  family  was  fuperadded.  Such  was  his  thoughtleffnefs,  that 
he  has  often  invited  company  to  dinner,  where  no  means  appeared  df  providing  a  meal  for  hi$ 
family. 

Subfifting  in  London  as  a  writer  for  bread,  his  manner  of  life  neither  augmented  his  perl 
portance,  nor  that  of  his  productions.  Never  nice  in  his  perfon,  in  his  mfte,  nor  in  his  acquaint 
ance  ;  he  loft  his  dignity,  his  time,  and  his  peace  of  mind.  The  profits  of  the  publications  in  which 
he  engaged,  were  diffipated  by  a  total  neglect  of  economy.  While  the  works  of  his  more  prudent 
contemporaries,  Gray,  and  MaTon,  always  polifhed  at  leifure,  with  critical  cure,  and  folicitude,  wer« 
received  as  favours,  and  read  with  reverence  ;  his  compofitions  appeared  good,  bad,  and  ir  iHerent, 
Before  the  dread  tribunal  of  the  public,  "  with  all  their  imperfections  on  their  head.' 

He  enjoyed,  while  thus  engaged  in  the  metropolis,  the  familiar  acquaintance  of  Dr.  Johnfofl 
Tames,  Dr.  Hawkefworth,  Goldfrauh,  and  Carrick,  and  md;rd  of  moft  who  were  tt 
/jr  genius,  w  for  learning.  H  .... 


<*<  THE   LIFE   OF   SMART. 

In  175*,  he  publirtieel  a  collation  of  Poems  on  Several  Occafions,  in  one  volume,  4t«  ;  which  he 
Dedicated  to  the  Earl  of  Middlefex,  "  not  as  a  writer,  or  a  fcholar,"  but  as  "  a  man  of  Kent." 
The  Hop- Garden,  nn&Judgment  of  Midas,  firft  appeared  in  this  collection. 

•  Having  received  fome  provocation  from  Dr.  Hill,  afterwards  Sir  John  Hill,  in  "  The  Infpector," 
and  in  a  paper  called  "  The  Impertinent,"  he  took  a  fevere  revenge  in  another  "  Dunciad,"  which 
he  called  after  the  name  of  his  hero,  The  Hillicid.  The  Fvjl  Book  of  this  mock-epic,  xvith  notes  vari 
orum,  was  published  in  1753,  410  ;  and  was  followed  by  an  anonymous  performance,  called  "  The 
Smartiad,  a  fatire  occafioned  by  the  Hilliad,"  folio,  1753. 

In  his  quarrel  with  Dr.  Hill,  he  could  obtain  no  fame,  though  he  greatly  augmented  the  ridicule 
of  that  extraordinary  perfonage  ;  but  time  fettles  the  difputes  of  authors  and  men  of  talents,  in  the 
jnoil  uprrght  manner.  Dr.  Hill  feems  to  have  been  infenfible  to  the  learning  and  genius  of  Smart ; 
and  Smart  only  faw  Dr.  Hill  in  the  light  of  a  quack,  and  a  coxcomb  :  but  posterity  not  only  allows 
the  originality,  the  invention,  and  the  poetical  talents  of  Smart,  but  alto  regards  Dr.  Hill  as  an 
able  botmifl ;  and  though  his  noltrums  and  panaceas  are  now  exploded,  his  voluminous  works  in 
natural  hiftory  have  advanced  towards  fame,  with  nearly  as  much  rapidity  as  his  empirical  produc 
tions  have  ddcended  towards  oblivion. 

To  the  Old,Wo>nari's  IMuigaxine,  publiflied  about  this  time,  Mr.  Newbery  and  himfe}f  were  the 
chief,  if  not  the  only  contributors.  He  tranflated  alfo  for  Mr.  Newbery,  The  Worki  of  Horace  into 
Englijh  Profe,  in  a  vols,  larno,  1756;  a  talk  which  he  has  very  ably  executed,  but  of  that  kind 
which  will -never  be  praifed  in  proportion  to  the  labour.  By  few  and  appofite  terms,  he  has  ex- 
prefied  the  fentiments  of  Horace,  in  an  idiom,  not  placed  very  near  the  Roman,  in  the  table  of  gram 
matical  affinities.  Of  an  author  not  amoug  the  leaft  difficult,  he  is  at  once  an  accurate,  and  an  ele 
gant  trauflatoc.  He  fliows  the  humbleft,  attention  to  the  language  of  the.  original,  and  an  abfo- 
Jute  command  over  his  own. 

In  1756,  he  entered  into  an  engagement  with  Gardener  the  bookfellpr,  to  furnifli  papers  monthly, 
in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Roll,  a  town  writer,  for  The  Uni-verfal  Vifitor.  Smart  and  his  coadjutor 
were  to  divide  one-third  of  the  profits  of  the  work  ;  they,  on  their  part,  figning  an  agreement,  "  not 
to  write  for  ninety-nine  years  to  come  in  any  other  publication."  Never,  furely,  did  rapacious  ava 
rice  dictate  a  more  unreafonable  bargain,  or  fubmiffive  poverty  place  itfelf  in  a  more  humiliating 
Ctuation. 

"  I  wrote  for  fome  months  in  The  Vifitor"  fays  Dr.  Johnfon,  as  reported  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  "  for 
poor  Smart,  while  he  was  mad  ;  not  then  knowing  the  terms  on  which  he  was  engaged  to  write, 
and  thinking  I  was  doing  him  good.  I  hoped  his  wits  would  foon  return  to  him.  Mine  returned 
to  me,  and  I  wrote  in  The  Vifitor  no  longer." 

All  the  ellays  in  The  Univerfal  Vifitor,  marked  with  two  afterifrm,  have  been  afcribed  to  Dr. 
Johnfon  ;  but  Mr.  Bofwell  is  confident,  from  internal  evidence,  that  of  theie,  neither  "  The  Life  of 
Chaucer,"  "  Reflections  on  the  State  of  Portugal,"  por  an  "  Eflay-on  Architecture,"  were  written 
by  him.  . 

He  was  likewife  engaged  with  Mr.  Rolt,  in  a  theatrical  entetprife  at  the  Hay-Market  theatre, 
called  JMutbsr  ^liduigbt's  Entertainment.  This,  was  firft  undertaken  at  the  esptnce  of  Mr.  New 
bery,  and  was  afterwards  carried  on  with  fome  degree  of  iuccefs.  - 

In  1756,  he  published  A  Hymn  to  the  Supreme  being,  on  Recovery  from  a  dangerous  Fit  of  Illncfs, 
which  he  dedicated,  to  Dr.  James.  "  If  it  be  meri,totious,"  fays  ike  dedication,  "  U>  have  invented 
medicines  for  the  cure  of  dittempers,  either  ovc-rluttked  or  difregarded  by  all  your  predeceflbrs,  mil 
lions  yet.unbornjWiil-celebrate  the  man  who  wrote  the  "  Medicinal  Dictionary,"  and  invented  the 

"  Fever  P^'der.;' 

Though  his  fortune,  as  well  as  conftitution,  required  the  utmoft  care,  he  was  equally  negligent 
in  the  management  of  both  ;  and  his  various  and  repeated  embaravTments,  acting  upon  an  imagina 
tion  uncommonly  fervid,  produced  temporary  alienations  of  mind;  which  at  lift  were  attended 
with  paroxvfms  fo  violent  and  continued,  as  to  render  confinement  neceffary. 

"  My  poor  friend  Smart,"  fays  Dr.  Johnlun,  as  reported  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  "  fhowed  the  difturb- 
aace  of  his  mind,  by  falling  upon  his  kuees,  and  faying  his  prayers  in  the  flreet,  w  in  any  other  unu- 


THE   LIFE   OF   SMART.  m 

fcal  place."  Talking  of,  his  confinement  to  Dr.  Burney,  »  it  fecms,"  he  obfervcd,  "  as  if  his  mind 
had  ceafed  to  ftruggle  with  the  difeafe;  for  he  grows  fat  upon  it."  Upon  Dr.  Eurncy  fuggefting, 
«  that,  perhaps,  it  may  be  from  want  of  exercifc,"  he  added,  "  he  has  partly  as  much  exercife  as  he 
ufed  to  have  ;  for  he  digs  in  the  garden.  Indeed,  before  his  confinement,  he  ufed  for  exercife  to \valk 
to  the  ale-houfe  ;  but  he  was  carried  back  again.  I  did  not  think  he  ought  to  he  fhut  i:p.  His  in 
firmities  were  not  noxious  to  fociety.  He  infifted  on  people  praying  with  him  ;  and  I'd  as  Kef  pray 
with  Kit.  Smart  as  any  one  elfe.  Another  charge  was,  that  he  did  not  love  clean  linen  ;  und  I  havt 
nopaffion  for  it." 

In  this  melancholy  flate,  his  family  (for  he  had  now  two  children),  nmft  have  been  much  cmba- 
raffed  in  their  circumftances,  but  for  the  kind  friendfhip  and  affiflance  of  Mr.  Ncwhery. 

Many  other  of  his  friends  were  likewife  forward  in  .their  fcrvices ;  particularly  Dr,  johnfon  and 
Sir  John  Huffey  Delaval,  Bart,  the  prefent  Lord  Delaval,  to  v.  hqm  he  was  private  tutor  in  college  ; 
and  who  fhowed  him,  upon  various  occafions,  particular  inflances  of  his  regard. 

It  was  at  the  requeft  of  Sir  John,  that  he  wrote  a  Prologue  ami  Epilogue  to  lit  fragtdy  e/OrleJJo,  adtcd 
at  Drury'-Lane,  by  feveral perfens  of  quality,  1751;  the  parts  of  lago  and  Othello  being  filltd  by  Sir 
John,  and  his  brother  Sir  Francis  Blake  Delaval. 

Mrs.  Smart  feems  to  have  made  an  attempt  at  this  period,  to  fettle  in  Dublin,  with  i  view  to 
provide  for  her  family,  by  engaging  in  bufinds  ;  probably  without  fuccefs.  "  I  wiih,"  1"  johnfon 
writes  her,  "  it  was  in  my  power  to  make  Ireland  pleafe  you  better ;  and  whate'ycr  is  in  rry  power, 
you  may  always  command.  1  mall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  the  hiftory  of  your,  management,  whe 
ther  you  have  a  houfe  or  a  fhop,  and  what  companions  you  have  found." 

After  an  interval  of  little  more  than  two  years,  he  appeared  to  be  pretty  well  reftored ;  and  wai 
accordingly  fet  at  liberty;  but  his  mind  had  received  a  fhock,  from  which  it  never  entirely  recover 
ed.  He  took  a  pleafant  lodging  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  James's  Park ;  conducting  his  affairs, 
For  fomc  time,  with  fufficient  prudence.  He  was  maintained  partly  by  his  literary  compofitions, 
and  partly  by  th;  generofity  of  his  friends,  receiving,  among  other  benefactions,  fifty  pounds  a-year 
from  the  Treafury. 

Of  the  ftate  of  his  mind,  and  of  his  modes  of  life  at  this  period,  Dr.  Hawkefworth  gives  the  fol 
lowing  acco.unt,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Hunter,  one  of  his  lifters. 

K  I  have,  fince  my  being  in  town,  called  on  my  old  friend,  and  feen  him.     He  receiTtd  me  with 
•an  ardour  of  kindnefs  natural  to  the  fenfibility  of  his  temper ;  and  all  were  fcon  feated  together  by 
his  fire-fide.    'I  perceived  upon  his  table  a  quarto  book,  in  which  he  had  been  writing,  a  prayer- 
book,  and  a  Horace.     After  the  firft  compliments,  1  faid  1  had  been  at  Margate,  had  feen  his 
mother  and  his  fitter,  who  exprefled  great  kindnefs  for  him,  and  made  me  promife  to  come  and  fee 
him.     To  this  he  made  no  reply  ;  nor  did  he  make  any  inquiry  after  thofe  I  mentioned.     He  dPd 
not  even  mention  the  place,  nor  afk  me  any  queftion  about  it,  or  what  carried  me  rhither.     After 
fome  paufe,  and  fome  indifferent  chat    I  returned  to  the  fubjecl,  and  faid,  that  Mr.  Hunter  and  you 
would  be  very  glad  to  fee 'him  in  Kent.     To  this  he  replied  very  quick,  "  I  cannot  afford  to  be 
idle."     I  faid  he  might  employ  his  mind  as  well  in  the  country  as  in  town ;  at  which  he  only  fliook 
his  head,  and  I  entirely  changed  the  fubjed.     Upon  my  aflcing  him  when  we  flionld  fee  the  Pfjlmt, 
he  faid  they  were  going  to  prefs  immediately :  as  to  his  other  undertakings,  I  found  he  had  com 
pleted  a  trunflation  of  PlxJrus,  in  verfe,  for  Dodfley,  at  a  certain  price ;  a:;d  that  he  is  now  biu'y  in 
tranflating  all  Horace  into  verfe ;  whichlie  fometimes  thinks  of  pnblifiiing  ou  his  own  account,  and 
fometimes  of  contracting  for  it  with 'a  bookfeller.     I  adinfcld  him  to  ths  latter;  and  he  tK-n  to!4 
me  he  was  in  treaty  about  it,  and  belieVed  it  would  be  a  bargain.    He  tojd  me,  his  principal 
for  tranflating  Horace  into  verfe,  was  to  fupcrfede  the  profe  translation,  which  he  did  (or  K:»!.cry  ; 
which,  he  faid,  would  hurt  his  memory.     He  intends,  hov.-ever,  to  review  that  'runiLuion,        pri 
it  at  the  foot  of  the  page  in  his  poetical  verfion;  which  be  propolis  t»  print  in  quarto,  with 
tin,  both  in  verfe  and  profe,  on  the  oppofite  page.     He  told  me  he  once  ha*  thoughts  of  pi  bl 
it  by  fubfcription  ;  but  as  he  had  troubled  his  friends  already,  ho  was  unwilling  to  do  it  iv.,. ,  ai 
had'been  perfcaded  tofvblifli  it  in  numbers;  which,  though  :  rather  difiuadcd  him,  fca 
ft>  be  the  prevailing  bent  of  his  mind.     He  read  me  fome  of  it :  it  is  very  clt-vtr  ;  a.-d 
tical  Crefparkle*  in  it  very  frequently;  yet,  upon  the  vhoK 

4 


7J*  THE   LIFE    OF   3  MART.- 

and  therefore,  if  it  i*  not  adopted  as  a  fchool  book,  which,  perhaps,  may  ;>e  ;.!::  :^"c,  n  vyiii  turg  •$ 
little  account.  Upon  mentioning  his  profe  translation,  I  faw  his  countenance  kindle ;  and,  fnatch- 
ingup  the  book,  "  what,"  fays  he,  "  do  you  think  1  had  for  this  ?"  I  faid  I  could  not  tell.  "  Why," 
jfays  he  with  great  indignation,  "  thirteen  pounds."  I  exprclfed  very  great  aftoniihraent,  which  he 
fcemtd  to  think  he  fhould  increafe,  by  adding—"  but  I  gave  'a  receipt  for  a  hundred."  My  aftor.ifti- 
jneiJt  was  now  over ;  and  1  found  that  he  received  only  thirteen  pounds,  becaufe  the  reft  had  been 
advanced  for  his  family.  This  was  a  tender  point ;  and  I  found  means  immediately  to  divert  him 
from  it.  He  is  with  very  decent  people,  in  a  houfe  mod  delightfully  fituated,  with  a  terras  that 
overlooks  fct.  James's  Park,  and  a  door  into  it.  He  was  going  to  dine  with  an  old  friend  of  my  own, 
Mr.  Richard  Dalton,  who  has  an  appointment  in  the  King's  Library ;  and  if  I  had  not  been  parti-' 
cularly  engaged,  I  would  have  dined  with  him.  He  had  lately  received  a  very  genteel  letter  from 
Dr.  Lowth,  and  it  is  by  no  means  confidered  in  any  light,  that  his  company  as  a  gentleman,  a  fcho- 
iar,  and  a  genius,  is  lefs  defirable." 

In  1759,  Garrick  made  him  an  offer  of  a  free  benefit  at  .Drury-Lane  theatre,  which  his  friends- 
did  not  permit  him  to  refufe.  Upon  this  occaficn,  Garrkk's  farce  of  "  The  Guardian"  was  aded 
for  the  firft  time,  in  which  he  himfelf  performed  the  principal  chara&er. 

In  I"6j,  he  publiftied  A  Song  to  David,  written  during  his  confinement ;  when  he  was  denied  the 
ufe  of  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  was  obliged. to  indent  his  lines  with  the  end  of  a  key  upon  the  wainfcot." 

The  fame  year  he  publifhed  two  fmali  cuartp  pamphlets,  intituled,  Poems,  and  Puems  on  Se-verul 
Qccafton$  ;  and,  the  year  following,  Hannah,  an  Oratorio,  4to  ;  and  an  QJe  to  the  Earl  of  Northumberland} 
•«  bis  being  appointed  Lard  Liiutenoiit  of  Ireland,  ii-i'.hfome  other  pieces,  410. 

In  1765,  he  published  A  New  verfion  of  the  Pfalms,  4to,  and  A  Poetical  Tranjiation  of  tb:  Folks  of 
JPhadrus,  lamo,  which  were  followed  by  The  Parables,  in  familiar  verf<,  I3mo.  I7&3. 

In  the  courfe  of  a  few  years,  his  economy  forfook  him,  and  he  was  confined  for  debt  In  the' 
'King's- Bench  prifon;  die  rules  of  which  he  afterwards  obtained,  by  the  kindncfs  of  his  brother-in- 
4»w,  Mr.  Thomas  Carnan.  He  appears  to  have  been  in  extreme  diflrefs,  by  a  letter  of  his  to  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Jackfon,  not  long  before  his  death.  "  Being  upon  the  recovery  from  a  fit  of  illnefs,  and 
batting  nothing  t«  tat,  I  beg  you  to  lend  me  two  or  three  JhiLlingt,  which  (God  willing)  I  will  return, 
•with  many  thanks,  in  two  or  three  days." 

At  length,  after  fuffering  the  accumulated  miferies  of  poverty,  difeafe,  and  infanity,  he  died  of  a 
^ifordtr  in  his  liver,  May  21.  1771,  in  the  49th  year  of  his  age ;  leaving  behind  him  two  daughters, 
who,  with  his  widow,  are  fettled  at  Reading,  in  Berkfiiire ;  and  by  their  prudent  management  of  a 
frufinefs  transferred  to  them  by  Mr.  Newbery,  are  in  good  circumilances. 

A  feleft  collection  of  his  Poems,  conftfiing  of  lit  Prize  Poems,  Odes,  Sonnet!,  and  F^bln,  Latin  and 
Jfno-li/lj  Tractions,  together  -with  many  original  Comfo/ltions,  not  included  in  the  Quarto  Editien,  to  -u-/.:<;b 
.is  prefixed  an  Account  of  his  Lift,  &c.  was  printed  at  Rending,  by  Smart  and  Cowflade,  in  ^  vols.  lama, 
1791.  Befides  the  Poetitel  TranJIatiom,  which  he  pubfifhed  in  his  life-time,  and  the  Wsrks  of  Horan 
i«  Engiijb  Metre,  which  "  he  propofcd  to  print  in  410. ;"  the  pieces  omitted  in  this  edition  of  hi* 
•works,  are  chiefly  die  Scr.g  to  David,  and  fome  pieces  in  the  two  fmall  410.  pamphlets,  which  were 
written  after  his  confinement,  and  bear,  for  the  moll  part,  melancholy  proofs  of  the  recent  cftrange- 
liient  of  his  mind. 

Among  the  pieces  not  included  in  the  4to.  edition,  or  publifhed  feparately,  are,  An  CJ:  on  a  Young 
Ladyt  Birth-days  Imitation  tf  Horace  on  taking  a  Bachelor  t  Degree;  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day  ;  Reafcr. 
*nd  Imagination,  a  FaUe ;  Niiv  Verfon  of  the  148/6  Pfalms  Ode  to  Lord  Barnard;  Ode  to  Lady  Har 
riot;  tie  Sheets  of  Evening  ;  Qde  to  a  Virginia  Nightingale  ;  Epigram  from  Martial;  Oa  »  Lady  tbrott- 
ing  Snt-iu  Ball,  at  btr  Lover,  from  Petronius  Afcanius;  and  Sixiun^failes,  chiefly  wrilten  for  1"hf 
Student,  and  the  Old  Woman's  Magazine.  f>^\ 

It  is  not  eafy  to  account  for  the  works  of  Smart  not  being  included  in  the  colleftion  of  the 
«  Works  of  the  EngliQi  Poets,"  whofe  lives  were  written  by  Dr.  JohnfoQ,  who  had  a  friendship  for 
him.  Dr.  Johnfon,  however,  frequently  declared,  that  the  choice  of  poets,  for  whofe  works  he  had 
agrc'ed  to  write  biographical  prefaces,  was  not  his  own  ;  and  yet,  as  he  condefcendcd  to  afk  a  pla«r 
for  Pomfrrt,  Yalden,  Blackmore,  and  Watts,  poor  Smart  had  an  equal  claim  to  his  notice,  frorp 
?i-ty  and  from  genius;  but,  p«iaps  the  co.py-right  of  hi*  fort«r«d  i»«4wftiaB»  =puid  not  be  eafi;^ 


THE   LIFE   OF   SMAK.T.  n. 

•fettled.  Even  his  beft  pieces,  though  admirable,  have  not  often  been  honoured  with  a  place  in  farour- 
ite  ColU&ons  cf  Pottat.  He  was  too  poor  an  author  to  bellow,  and  perhaps  he  had  no  mmbition  to 
ihare  in  the  triumph  of  thofe  who,  for  the  moft  part,  write  pieces  more  for  their  own  diverfior,,  than  for 
that  of  the  public.  His  way  of  living,  from  hand  to  mouth,  depending  always  on  the  product  of  Us 
ilefultory  pen,  appropriated  to  no  regular  nor  profitable  purpofe,  and  on  the  liberality  of  his  friends, 
was  not  likely  to  procure  for  him  that  public  refpect  from  his  contemporaries,  which  fweetens  « 
man's  life,  however  ufelefs  it  may  be  to  his  works  after  his  death. 

The  work*  of  Smart,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1791.  with  fome  additions  and  corrections,  are 
now  received,  for  the  firft  time,  into  a  collection  of  claflkal  Englifh  poetry.  The  Song  to  David  i> 
highly  worthy  of  rt publication  ;  and  was  recommended  by  the  prefent  writer  to  he  inferted  in  thi* 
edition;  but  a  copy  could  not  be  obtained  for  that  purpofe.  The  night  defects,  and  fingularilie* 
of  this  neglected  performance,  are  amply  compenfated,  by  a  grandeur,  a  majefty  of  thought,  and  a 
happineis  of  expreflion,  in  leverarl  of  the  Itanzas. 

The  character  of  this  unfortunate  poet,  compounded  like  that  of  all  human  beings,  of  good  qua 
lities  and  of  defects,  may  be  eafily  collected  from  this  account  of  his  life.  Of  his  domeftic  manners, 
and  petty  habits,  a  few  peculiarities  remain  to  be  mentioned. 

Though  he  was  a  very  diligent  ftudent  while  he  was  at  Cambridge,  he  was  alfo  extremely  fond 
•fexercife,  and  of  walking  in  particular;  at  which  times  it  was  his  cuftom  to  purfue  his  medita 
tions.  A.  fellow  ftudent  remembers  a  path  worn  by  his  conftant  treading  on  the  pjrrement,  antkr 
the  cloifters  of  his  college.  Like  Milton  and  Gray,  he  had  his  moments  propitious  to  invention ;  and 
has  been  frequently  known  to  rife  lucldenly  from  his  bed,  that  he  might  frxby  writing  thofe  delight 
ful  ideas  which  floated  before  his  fancy  in  the  vifions  of  the  night. 

His  piety  was  exemplary,  and  fervent.  In  compofing  his  religious  poems,  he  was  frequently  fo 
impreffed  with  the  fentiments  of  devotion,  as  to  write  particular  paffages  on  his  knees. 

He  was  friendly,  affectionate,  and  liberal  to  excels ;  fo  as  often  to  give  that  to  other?,  of  which 
he  was  in  the  utmoft  want  himfelf.  He  was  alfo  particularly  engaging  in  converfation,  when  hii 
firft  fhinefs  was  worn  away,  which  he  had  in  common  with  literary  men  ;  but  iri  a  very  remark* 
able  degree.  Having  undertaken  to  introduce  his  wife  to  Lord  Darlington,  he  had  no  fooner  men 
tioned  her  name  to  his  Lordfhip,  than  he  retreated  fuddenly,  as  if  ftricken  with  a  panic,  from  the 
room,  and  from  the  houfe,  leaving  her  to  follow  overwhelmed  with  confuGon. 

During  the  far  greater  part  of  his  life,  he  was  wholly  inattentive  to  economy ;  and  by  this  negli 
gence  loft  his  fortune,  and  then  his  credit.  The  civilities  fliown  him  by  perilous  greatly  his  fuperiors 
in  rank  and  character,  either  induced  him  to  expect  mines  of  wealth  from  the  exertion  of  his  ta 
lents,  or  encouraged  him  to  think  himfelf  exempted  from  attention  to  common  obligations. 

But  his  chief  fault,  from  which  moft  of  his  other  faults  proceeded,  wts  his  deviations  from  the 
rules  of  fubriety ;  of  which  the  early  ufe  of  cordials,  in  the  infirm  ftate  of  his  childhood  and  his  youth, 
might,  perhaps,  be  one  caufe,  and  is  the  only  extenuation. 

As  a  poet,  his  genius  has  never  been  queftioned  by  thofe  who  cenfured  his  carelefTnefa,  and  com- 
miferated  the  unhappy  vacillation  of  his  mind.  He  is  fometimes  not  only  greatly  irregular,  but 
irregularly  great.  His  errors  are  thofe  of  a  bold  and  daring  fpirit,  which  bravely  hazards  what  a  vul 
gar  mind  could  never  fuggeft.  Shahfpeare  and  Milton  arc  fometiunes  wild  and  irregular;  ard  it 
feems  as  if  originality  alone  could  try  experiments.  Accuracy  is  timid,  and  leeks  for  authority. 
Fowls  of  feeble  wing  feldom  quit  the  ground,  though  at  full  liberty  j  while  the  eagle,  unreftraincd, 
foars  into  unknown  regions. 

He  is  a  various,  an  original,  but  unequal  writer.  Every  fpecies  of  poetry,  not  even  excepting  the 
epic,  has  been  attempted  by  him,  and  moft  of  them  with  eminent  fuccefs. 

His  fine  poemt  on  the  Divine  Attributes,  are  written  with  the  fublimeft  energies  of  religion,  and 
the  true  enthufiafm  of  poetry  ;  and  if  he  had  written  nothing  elfe,  thefe  compofitions  alore  would 
have  given  him  a  very  diftinguifhed  rank  among  the  writers  of  verfe.  Their  faults,  though  nume 
rous,  arc  amply  compenfated  by  their  beauties.  Some  of  their  defects  may  be  fairly  alcribed  to  re- 
dundance  of  genius,  and  impatience  of  labour;  others  to  fanaticifm,  generated,  perhaps,  by  the  gran- 
4«r  ef  the  fubject  j  on  which  he  ftraiacd  bi»  faculties,  in  trying  to  penetrate  "beyond  the  reach  of 

3 


Ia4  THE   LIFE   OF,  SMART. 

human  ken," — but  he  never  could  mount  "  to  the  height  of  his  great  argument."  Dr.  Johrifon,  in 
fpeaking  of  facred  pot-try,  in  his  life  of  Waller,  has  admirably  faid,  that  ".  whatever  is  great,  de- 
firable-,  or  tremendous,  is  cornpnled  in  the  name  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Omnipotence  cannot  be 
exalted  ;  inCnitytannot  be  amplified  ;  perfection  cannot  be  improved."  Upon  the  whole,  however, 
his  prize  poems  are  more  accurate  than  the  generality  of  his  performances ;  which  may  be  attri 
buted -to  ,ths  deference  Le  might  feel  from  thofe  perlons  who  were  to  adjudge  the  prizes  which  he 
obtained. 

Of  his  Gags  it  may  be  faki,  in  general,  that  they  are  fpirited  and  poetical.  It  will  be  difficult 
to  find  Tiny  othrr  quality  equally  applicable  to  rompoliuons  very  different  from  each  other;  and 
in  many  of  .which  oppofite  characters  occ'afionally  predominate.  He  has  followed  the  example  of 
Horace,  rather  than  that  of  the  Grecian  models;  and  ot  him  he  is,  for  the  moft  part,  a  judicious 
imitator.  Some  of  the  (horter  pieces  are  beautiful,  and  nearly  perfect ;  but  inftances  of  an  impro 
per  affociation  of  the  grave  and  the  ludicrous,  fometimes  occur;  and  he  dcbafes,  by  an  impure  ad 
mixture,  what  otherwife  would  have  been  gold  of  the  ftasdard  value.  The  Ode  to  Idlentfs  poffefles 
the  elegance  or  Safipho  ;  and  that  to  Etbel'mda,  the  fprightlinefs  of  Anacreon.  The  Ode  on  St.  Ce- 
cifia's  Day,  inferior  only  to  the  great  model  by  Dryden,  is  digniried  throughout,  and  breathes  the 
true  fpirit  of  poetry.  The  Hymn  to  the  Supreme  Being,  on  Recovery  from  Sicknefs,  is  pious,. animat 
ed,  and  pathetic.  The  Ode  on  Good-Nature  ?is  full  of «elegance,  and  that  on  lil-Nature  full  at" 
force.  The  Morning  Piece  is  uniformly  beautiful;  the  description  of  L,abotir  is  eminently  happy. 

Strong  Labour  got  up — with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth, 

Jkftoutly  ftrode  over  the  dale,  &.c. 

The  lines  were  mifprinted  In  the  410  edition. 

Strong  Labour^-of  up  will:  Us  pipe  in  Ms  mouth, 
And  floutiy,  Sec. 

The  correction  was  advertifed  immediately  after  the  publication  of  tie  firft  edition;  but  the 
blunder  has  been  retained  in  the  edition  1701.  The  poet  did  not  mean  to  infinuatf,  that  Labour 


highly  painted.  The  Noon-Piece  is  ber.utifully 
ing  a  Bachelor's  Degree,  is  fpirittd  and  p!eafant.  The  Ode  tn  tbe  Birth-Day  of  a  Becntt'tfiil  T«nng 
Lady,  is  highly  poetical :  its  diief  bleraifh  is  the  too  frequent  and  affected  ufe  of  alliteration.  It 
was  written  on  Mifs  Harriot  Pratt  of  Durham,  in  Norfolk,  a  lady  for  whom  Smart  had  entertained 
a  long  and  unfuccefsful  paffion ;  who  was  the  fubjecl  alfo  of  the  crambo  ballad,  and  other  verfes 
among  his  poems-  Of  the  reft,  the  odes  On  an  Eagle  confined  in  a  Cage ;  To  Lord  Exrnard;  To 
Lady  Harris ;  To  the  Earl  of  Northumberland ;  To  a  Virginia  Kigbtingalc  ;  The  Sweets  of  Eve/l 
ing  ;  Ne~v  Verfion  of  the  CXLVIIIth  Pfahn,  deferve  particular  commendation. 

On  the  H'jp-Gard^n  much  commendation  cannot  juftly  be  conferred ;  and  the  praife  which  is 
withheld  from  the  poetry,  will  not  be  very  cheerfully  laviilied'on  the  inftruclions.  But  the  rough- 
nefs  and  the  want  of  dignity  in  the  blanlc  verfe,  and  the  want  of  previous  information  on  the  art  of 
which  he  treats,  are  to  be  afcribed,  not  to  want  of  genius,  but  to  want  of  diligence  and  care  ;  for 
he  never  had  patience  nor  application  fufficient  to  bring  a  Jong  work  to  any  degree  of  perfection. 
There  are,  however,  a  great  many  truly  poetical  ftrokes  in  this  Georgic,  and  whole  pages  that 
abound  \vith  beauty. 

His  mock  heroic  poem  the  Hilliad,  may  afford  entertainment  to  thofe  who  care  little  about  the 
hero  of  the  poem,  or  the  fubjecl  of  the  quarrel.  Compofitions  of  this  clafs,  as  they  gratify  malig 
nity,  are  ufuaily  read  with  avidity  on  their  firft  appearance  ;  but,  without  uncommon  merit,  they 
quickly  fink  into  oblivion.  The  fpirit  and  loftinefs  of  forne  of  the  lines,  the  happy  imitations  of  the 
«'  Dunciad,1'  and  the  wit  and  humour  of  the  notes,  deferve  gre?.t  praife;  but  the  abufe  is  coarfe, 
and  the  fcurrility  is  a  difgrace  to  the  republic  of  letters. 

His  Judgment  of  Midas,  a  mafque,  or  dramatic  paftoral,  is  a  claffical  and  elegant  performance. 
It  is  executed  throughout  in  a  mafterly  mariner.  It  has  none  of  thofe  glaring  inaccuracies  which 
difsrace  fjrre  of  his  other  pieces.  The  defciiption  of  Midas  following./' an,  is  full  of  poetry,  as  well 
as  fpirit.  The  aidicfc  of  2*w;c/.vj-to  the  inanimate  things  about  him,  on  thp  approach  of  the 


THE    LIFE    OF   SMART. 

has  great  dignity  and  propriety,  as  well  as  beauty.  The  firft  flanza  of  the  fong  to  f,,a  Tjas  great 
ibfmefs  and  great  elegance.  But  dramatic:'  paftorals,  even  if  the  generally  interefting  topic  of  love 
be  fuperadded,  will  riot  greatly  entertain  without  their  proper  embelKfhments,  acting  and  mufic. 

His  Fables  rank  with  the  moft  agreeable  jiie.tr.ical  compofi.tions  of  that  kind  in  our  ljngija<v.  HU 
verfification  is  lefs  poliflied,  and  his  apologues,  in  general,  are  perhaps  lefs  correct  than  thofc  of  Gay 
Or  Moore ;  but  in  originality,  in  wit,  and  in  humour,  the  preference  ft- cms  due  to  Smart.  They  unite  ' 
the  grace  and  eafe  of  Prior  with  the  humour  of  Swift ;  and  to  tlufe  is  fuperarlded  a  very  ronfjder- 
able  portion  of  poetical  fpirit.  The  introductory  lines  of  almoft  aH  the  fables  are  finpulaily  Jnee- 
nious  and  happy;  and  in  the  courfe  of  each,  the  fecond  line  of  ir.oft  couplets  generally  pfcfents  u 
with  an  independent  new  idea.  The  bed  and  moft  ftrious  of  thcfe  playful  competitions  is,  doubt- 
lefs,  Care  and  Gcnerofity.  It  is  one  of  the  mofl  beautiful  allegories  that  has  ever  been  imagined.  The 
Bag-Wig  and  the  Tobacco  Pipe,  M.idani  and  the  Magpie,  Reofnn  and  Imagination,  The  Herald  and  tbt 
Jlujoandman,  deferve  particular  commendation.  The  Citizen  and  the  Red  Lion  of  Brerijcrd,  may  be 
thought  to  tranfgrefs  the  limits  of  mythological  probability ;  but  a  dialogue  between  a  man  and  a 
painted  board,  may  be  forgiven  for  its' humour.  The  Brocaded  Gown  an.i  Linen  fiag,  contains  liberal 
praifes  of  his  poetical  contemporaries,  Akcnfide,  Collins,  Gray,  and  Mafon.  Tic  Pig  is  a  very  exact 
and  beautiful  tranflation  of  the  fame  ftory  in  Phsedrus.  If  in  any  inftances  the  modern  is  furpafled 
by  the  moft  charming  fabulift  of  antiquity,  for  which,  perhaps,  the  Roman  is  not  a  little  indebted 
to  the  fuperior  force  and  concifenefs  of  the  language  in  which  he  wrote,  in  others  the  original  is 
undoubtedly  rivalled,  if  not  excelled,  and  obtains  at  laft  a  doubtful  victory. 

His  Ballads,  and  Epigrams,  &c.  like  his  other  productions,  bear  the  flamp  of  originality,  of  wit 
and  of  pleafantry.  The  Force  of  Innocence  is  more  fcrious,  and  is  an  elegant  application  of  the  Integer 
Vita  of  Horace,  to  female  virtue.  S-weet  William,  The  Lafs  with  the  Golden  Locks,  The  Dccifion,  Lovely 
Harriot,  a  crambo  ballad,  Jenny  Gray,  are  generally  known  and  admired.  The  epigrams  of  The 
fiy/ician  and  tie  Monkey,  Apollo  and  Daphne,  arc  fprightly  and  elegant,  and  the  imitations  of  Martial 
and  Petronius  dfeanius  have  confiderable  merit.  In  the  Horatian  Canons  of  Friend/lip,  the  fentimenti 
of  Horace,  Lib.  I.  Sat.  3.  are  fuccefsfully  accommodated  to  recent  facts  and  familiar  images. 

Though  Smart,  if  placed  like  his  friend  Garrick  in  the  picture,  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy, 
Would  more  incline  to  the  laughter-loving  dame  than  the  goddefs  of  tears;  fome  of  his  ferious  pieces, 
tefides  thofe  on  religious  fubjects,  manifeft  and  excite  feeling  in  an  eminent  degree.  The  little 
poem  On  the  Death  of  Mr.  Ncivbery,  after  a? lingering  illnefs,  tnuft  touch  every  reader  of  fenfibility.  IB 
the  Epitaph  on  the  Rev.  Mr.  Reynolds,  at  St.  Peter's,  i*  the  Ifle  ofTbai^t,  the  thoughts  and  the  word* 
in  which  they  are  clothed  feem  to  breathe  the  true  fpirit  of  poetical  pathos. 

In  the  firft  rank  of  the  elegant  writers  of  Latin,  among  our  Englifh  poets,  Jonfon,  May,  Crafliaw, 
Cowley,  Milton,  Marvell,  Addifon,  Gray,  Warton,  &c.  Smart  ftands  very  high.  His  tranflation 
of  Pope's  Odf  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day,  is  at  once  elegant  and  appropriate.  He  equals  his  original  in  the 
fublimeft  paffages,  except  only  the  third  ftanza ;  and  to  the  ballad  and  epigrammatic  ftanzas  givet 
dignity  and  grace.  The  vulgar  lines  which  defcribe  the  power  of  Styx  over  the  enthralled  Earydlct, 
and  the  fuperior  power  of  mufic  and  of  love,  are  tranflated  with  truth  and  beauty.  It  has  been  ob 
jected,  and  with  fome  reafon,  to  Smart's  tranflation,  that  it  exhibits  a  variety  of  metres  unauthorifed 
by  any  fingle  example  among  the  Latin  poets.  But  had  he,  too  timid  to  purfue  the  rapid  flights  and 
wild  genius  of  his  original,  confined  himfelf  to  the  regular  recurrence  of  the  Roman  ftanza,  his  imi 
tation  would  not  have  been  exact,  and  probably  would  not  have  been  interefting.  The  opinion  of 
the  public  has  fully  juftified  the  choice  of  Smart. 

In  his  verfion  of  Pope's  E/ay  on  Criticifm,  he  is  a  very  diligent  imitator  of  the  epiftolary  ftyle  oP 
Horace ;  and  we  (hall  find  him  carefully  following  the  footfteps  of  his  mafter,  where  we  might 
otherwife  have  been  difpofed  to  fufpect  the  purity  of  his  language.  To  the  labours  of  Smart  thofe 
perfons  chiefly  arc  indebted,  who,  being  unacquainted  with  the  Englifh  tongue,  wifh  to  fee  Pope'. 
juft  rules  of  tafte,  embellifhed  indeed  with  his  powers  of  poetry,  though  appearing  with  lefs  gloft 
and  luftre  through  the  medium  of  tranflation.  In  the  famous  lines  intended  as  an  echo  to  the  fcnfe, 
he  has  laboured  through  a  very  painful  taflc,  with  confiderable  dexterity;  and  in  the  beautiful  pic- 
tyre  of  the  reign  of  JLeo,  of  fi*»  and  of  the  Art:,  iu>  foreigner  need  regret  that  he  is  unacquainted 
ope, 


$26  THE   LIFE   OF   SMART. 

His  verfion  of  Milton's  L'  Allegro,  exhibits  the  exquifite  poetry  and  brilliant  imagery  of  one  of 
the  firft  defcriptive  poems  in  the  Englifli  language,  in  appropriate  diction,  and  legitimate  verfe. 
1  he  title  of  the  poem,  perhaps,  might  have  been  more  happily  exprefTed  in  Greek,  than  by  *Q 

HftijffMMMf- 

His  tranflation  of  Fanny  Blooming  Fair,  is  a  profefied  imitation  of  the  manner  of  Vincent  Bourne, 
•end  is  not  without  a  considerable  portion  of  the  perfpicuity  of  contexture,  facility,  fluency,  delicacy, 
fimplicity,  and  elegance,  which  characterife  the  compofitions  of  that  amiable  and  ingenious  poet ; 
but  k  is  inferior  to  his  admirable  verfion  of  Mallet's  "  William  and  Margaret." 

His  frij os-poems  may  be  juftly  qpufidcrcd  as  legitimate  claffical  compofitions.  They  are  the  pro- 
flucYon  of  a  mind  deeply  tinctured  with  the  excellencies  of  ancient  literature,  and  attentive  both  to 
the  fubftantial  parts,  and  to  the  decorations  of  poetry.  In  boldnefs  of  invention,  felicity  of  defcrip- 
tion,  and  flrength  and  elegance  of  diition,  they  are  not  furpaffed  by  the  hexamstric  poetry  of  Mil 
ton  and  Gray.  The  Temple  of  Dullnefs,  in  particular,  exhibits  fuch  beauties  of  perfonification,  as  only 
the  richeft  and  m«ft  vivid  imagination  could  fupply.  His  perfonifications  of  Stupor,  Softlflita,  Ma- 
ttejis,  MicropblU,  and  Atheia,  abound  with  the  mbft  poetkal  imagery,. delivered  in  language  that  wiR 
e  left  of  critkifin. 


' 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


ODES. 


ODE  I. 


of  eafe,  leave  Lethe's  brink, 
*   Obfequicus  to  the  mufe  and  me  ; 
For  ooce  endure  th.  pain  to  thinkf 
Oh  !  fweet  infeufibility  ! 

Sifter  of  peace  and  indolence, 

Bring,  mufe,  bring  numbers  foft  and  flow, 
Elaborately  void  of  ienfe, 

And  fweetly  thoughtlefs  let  them  flow. 

Near  fome  cowflip-painttd  mead, 

There  let  me  doze  out  the  dull  hours, 

And  under  me  let  Flora  fpread, 
A  fofa  of  her  fo£:eft  ftow'rs. 

\Vhere,  Philomel,  your  notes  you  breathe 
Forth  from  behind  the  neighbouring  pine, 

And  nsurmurs  of  the  ftream  beneath 
Still  Sow  in  unifon  with  thi»e. 

For  thee,  O  Idlenefs,  the  woes 

Of  life  we  patiently  endure, 
Thou  art  the  fource  whence  labour  flcrw?, 

We  fhun  thee  but  to  make  thee  fure. 

For  who'd  full  a  in  war's  toil  and  wafte, 
Or  who  th'  hoarfe  thund'ring  of  tha  fca, 

But  to  be  idle  at  the  laft, 

And  fiud  a  pleafing  end  in  thee, 

ODE  II. 

TO    ETllELtNDA, 

'fn  tier  doing  my  Vtrjcs  the  honour  of  iuiari--g  tbfi;i  in 
her  lofom—Writtcn  at  tbir!::n. 

HAPPV  verfes  that  were  preft 

In  fair  Ethelinda's  bread  1 

Happy  mufe,  that  didlt  embrace 

The  fweet,  the  heav'nly-fragrant  place.'. 

Tell  me,  is  the  omen  true, 

Shall  the  bard  arrive  there  too  ? 

Oft  through  my  eyes  my  foul  has  flown, 
And  wanton'd  on  that  iv'ry  throne  : 
There  with  edlatic  tranfport  burn'd, 
'And  thought  it  was  to  heav'n  return'i 
Tell  me  is  the  omen  true, 
Shall  the  bodv  follow  too  ? 


When  firft  at  nature's  early  birth, 
Heav'n  fent  a  man  upon  the  earth, 
Ev'n  Eden  was  more  fruitful  found, 
When  Adam  came  to  till  the  ground; 
Shall  then  thofe  breads  be  fair  in  vain. 
And  only  rife  to  fall  again  ? 

No,  no,  fair  nymph— for  no  fuch  end 
Did  Heav'n  to  thee  its  bounty  knd  ; 
That  breaft  was  ne'er  defign'd  by  fate, 
For  verfe,  or  things  inanimate; 
Then  throw  them  from  that  downy  bc 
And  take  the  poet  in  their  Head. 


ODE  III. 
On  an  Eaglt  confined  in  d  C'-Higi 


IMPERIAL  bird,  who  wont  to  foar 

Hi;sh  o'er  the  rolling  cloud, 
Where  Hyperborean  mountain*  hosr 

Their  heads  in  ether  fliroud;  — 
Thou  fervant  of  almighty  Jove, 
Who,  free  and  fwift  as  thought,  could'fl  row 

'1  o  the  bleak  north's  extremeft  goal;— 
Thou,  \\  ho  magnanimous  could'tl  btar 
The  fovercign  thund'rcr'i  :.nns  in  air, 

And  lhake  thy  native  pole  '.  — 

Oh  cruel  fate  !  what  barbarous  hand, 

What  more  than  Gothic  ire, 
At  foir.e  ficra-  tyrant's  drc-ad  command, 

To  clv.-rk  tliy  daring  fire 
Has  plac'd  thfj  in  this  fci  vile  cell, 
Where  difci'i'iine  and  dulncfs  dwell, 

Where  genius  ne'er  was  fcen  to  roam  } 
Where  cv'ry  fcliifh  foul's  at  reft. 
Nor  ever  quits  the  curn-1  breaft, 

But  lurks  and  foeaks  at  home  ! 

Though  dim'd  thine  eye,  and  clipt  thy  winy 

So  grov'Iing  !  once  fo  great! 
The  griet-infpirt-d  mufe  fhzll  Cnj 

In  tenci'r.-(l  lays  thy  fate. 
What  time  by  thee  fehoUflSc  pride 
Takes  his  precifc  pedantic  llride, 

Nor  on  thy  mis'ry  eafts  a  care, 
The  ftream  of  love  ne'er  from  hi»  heart 
Flows  out,  to  ad  fair  pity's  part  ; 

But  (links,  and  ftagnatc*  there. 


THE   WORKS   OF   SMART. 


Yet  ufeful  ftill,  hold  to  the  throng — 

Hold  the  reflecting  glais, — 
That  not  untutor'd  at  thy  wrong 

The  paflenger  may  pafs  ! 
Thou  type  of  wit  and  fenfe  confin'd, 
Cramp'd  by  the  oppreffors  of  the  mind, 

Who  ftudy  downward  on  the  ground; 
Type  of  the  fall  of  Greece  and  Rome  ; 
"While  more  than  mathematic  gloom, 
Envelopes  all  around. 

ODE  IV. 

On  tbefudden  Death  of  a  Clergyman. 

IF,  like  th'  Orphean  lyre,  my  fong  could  charm, 

And  light  to  life  the  afhes  in  the  urn, 
Tate  of  his  iron  dart  I  would  difarm, 

Sudden  as  thy  deceafe  fhould'ft  thou  return, 
Recall'd  with  mandates  of  defpotic  founds, 
And  arbitrary  grief  that  will  not  hear  of  bounds. 
But,  ah!  fuch.  wifhes,  artlefs  mufe,  forbear; 

'Tis  impotence  of  frantic  love, 
Th'  enthufiaftic  flight  of  wild  defpair, 

To   hope    the   Thracian's  magic    power   to 

prove. 

Alas  !  thy  fiender  vein, 

Nor  mighty  is  to  move,  nor  forgetive  to  feign, 
Impatient  of  a  rein, 
Thou  canft  not  in  due  bounds  the  ftruggling  mea- 

fures  keep, 

— Bnt  thou  alas  !  canft  •weep— 
Thou  canft — and  o'er  the  melancholy  bier 
Canft  lend  the  fad  folemnity  a  tear. 
Hail !  to  that  wretched  corfc,  untenanted  and  cold, 
And  hail  .the  peaceful  fhadc,  loos'd  from  its  irk- 

fome  hold. 
Now  let  me  fay  thou'rt  free, 

For  fure  thou  paid'ft  an  heavy  tax  for  life, 
While  combating  for  thee, 
Nature  and  mortality 

Maintain  a  daily  ftrife. 
High  on  a  fiender  thread  thy  vital  lamp  was  plac'd, 

Upon  the  mountain's  bleakeft  brow, 
To  give  a  noble  light  fuperior  was  it  rais'd, 
But  more  expos'd  by  eminence  it  blaz'd  ; 
For  not  a  whittling  wind  that  blew, 
Nor  the  drop  defcending  dew, 
Bnt'half  extinguifh'd  its  fair  flame— but  now 
See — hear  the  ftorm's  tempeftuous  fweep- — 
Precipitate  it  falls — it  falls — falls  lifelels  in  the 

deep.  * 

Ceafe,  ceafe,  ye  weeping  youth, 
Sincerity's  foft  fighs,  and  all  the  tears  of  truth. 
And  you,  his  kindred  throng  forbear 
Marble  memorials  to  prepare, 
And  fculptur'd  in  your  breafts  his  bufto  wear. 
'Twas  thus  wheri  IfraePs  legiflator  dy'd, 
No  fragile  mortal  honours  were  fupply'd, 

But  even  a  grave  denied. 
Better  than  what  the  pencil's  daub  can  give, 
Better  than  all  that  Phidias  ever  wrought, 
Is  this — that  what 'he  taught  fhall  live, 

And  what  he  liv'd  for  ever  fhall  be  taught. 

ODE  V. 

GOOD-NATURE. 

HAIL  cherub  of  the  higheft  heav'n, 
Of  look  divine,  and  temper  c*v'n, 


Celeftial  fweetnefs,  exquifite  of  mein, 
Of  ev'ry  virtue,  ev'ry  praife  the  queen ! 

Soft  gracefulneft,  and  blooming  youth, 

Where,  grafted  on  the  ftem  of  truth, 

That  friendfhip  reigns,  no  intereft  can  divide, 
And  great  humility  looks  down  on  pride. 

Oh  !  curfe  on  flander's  vip'rous  tongue, 

That  daily  dares  thy  merit  wrong  ; 

Idiots  ufurp  thy  title,  and  thy  frame, 
Without  or  virtue,  talent,  tafte,  or  name. 

Is  apathy,  is  heart  of  fteel, 

Nor  ear  to  hear,  nor  fenfe  to  feel, 

Life  idly  inofFenfive  fuch  a  grace, 
That  it  fhould  fteal  thy  name  and  take  thy 
place  ? 

No— thou  art  active — fpirit  all- 
Swifter  than  lightning/  at  the  call 

Of  injur'd  innocence,  or  griev'd  defert, 
And  large  with  liberality  thy  heart. 

Thy  appetites  in  eafy  tides 

(As  reafon's  luminary  guides) 

Soft  flow — no  wind  can  work  them  to  a  ftornt^ 
Correclly  quick,  difpaffionately  warm. 

Yet  if  a  tranfport  thou  canft  feel 

'Tis  only  for  thy  neighbours  weal ; 

Great,  generous  acts  thy  du&ile  pafllons  move, 
And  fmilingly  thou  weep 'ft  with  joy  and  love. 

Mild  is  thy  mind  to  cover  fhame, 

Averfe  to  envy,  flow  to  blame, 

Burfting  to  praife,  yet  ftill  fincere  and  free 
From  flatt'ry's  fawning  tongue,  and  bending 
knee. 

Extenfive,  as  from  weft  to  eaft, 

Thy  love  defcends  from  man  to  beaft, 
Nought  is  excluded  little,  or  infirm, 
Thou  canft  with  greatnefs  ftoop  to  fave  a 
worm.  - 

Come,  goddefs,  come  with  all  thy  charms 

For  oh  !  I  love  thee,  to  my  arms- 
All,  all  my  actions  guide,  niy  fancy  feed, 
So  fhall  exiftence  then  be  life  indeed. 


ODE  VI. 

ON    ILL-NATURE. 

OFFSPRING  of  folly  apd  of  .pride, 
To  all  that's  odious,  all  that's  bafe  allied  ; 

Nurs'd  up  by  vice,  by  pravity  mifled, 
By  pedant  affectation  taught  and  bred  : 

Away,  thou  hideous  hell-born  fpright, 

o,  with  thy  looks  of  dark  defign, 

Sullen,  four,  and  faturnine ; 
Fly  to  fome  gloomy  fhude,  nor  blot  the  goodly 
light. 

Thy  planet  was  remote,  when  I  was  born  ; 
Twas  Mercury  that  rul'd  my  natal  morn, 

What  time  the  fun  exerts  his  gcnhl  ray, 
And  ripens  for  enjoyment  every  growing  day  :• 

When  to  exift  is  but  to  love  and  ling, 

rightly  Aries  failles  upon  the  fprinj. 


There  in  y»n  lonefome  heatli, 
\Vhich  Flora,  or  iiylvanus  never  knew, 

Where  never  vegetable  drank  the  dew, 
Or  beaft,  or  fowl  uttempU  to  breathe  ; 

Where  nature's  pencil  has  no  colours  laid ; 
But  all  is  blank,  and  univerfal  (hade ; 

Contraft  to  figure,  motion,  life  and  light, 
There  may'ft  thou  vent  thy  fpite, 

For  ever  curfing,  and  for  ever  curs'd, 
Of  all  th'  infernal  crew  the  worft ; 

The  worft  in  genius,  meafure  and  degree ; 
For  envy,  hatred,  malice,  are  but  parts  of  thee. 

Or  would'ft  thou  change  the  fcene,  and  quit  the 

den, 
"Where  fpleen,  by  vapours  denfe  begot  and  bred, 

Hardnefs  of  heart,  and  heavinefs  of  head, 
Have  rais'd  their  darkfome  walls,  and  plac'd  their 

thorny  bed ; 

There  may'ft  thou  all  thy  bitternefs  unload, 
There  may'ft  thou  croack  in  concert  with  the  toad, 
With  thee  the    hollow    howling   winds  (hall 

join, 
3*Jor  (hall  the  bittern  her  bafe  throat  deny, 

The  querulous  frogs  (hall  mix  their  dirge  with 

thine, 

Th'  ear-piercing  hrrn,  the  plover  fcreaming  high, 
Millions  of  humming  gnats  fit  oeftrum  (hall 
fupply. 

-Away— away— behold  an  hideous  band 

An  herd  of  all  thy  minions  are  at  hand, 
Sufpicion  firft  with  jealous  caution  ftalks, 

And  ever  looks  around  her  as  (he  walks, 
With  bibolous  ear  imperfect  founds  to  catch, 

And  proud  to  liften  at  her  neighbours  latch. 

Next  fcandal's  meagre  (hade, 
Joe  to  the  virgins,  and  the  poet's  fame, 

A  wither'd  time-deflower'd  old  maid, 
'That  ne'er  enjoy'd  love's  ever  facred  flame; 

Hypocrify  fucceeds  with  faint-like  look,1 

And  elevates  her  hands  and  plods  upon  her 

book. 
Kext  comes  illiberal  fcrambling  avarice, 

Then  vanity  and  affectation  nice — 
See,  (he  faiutes  her  (hadow  with  a  bow 

As  in  (hort  Gallic  trips  (he  minces  by, 
Starting  .antipathy  is  in  her  eye, 

And  fq'ueamiihly  (he  knits  her  fcornful  brow. 
iTo  thee,  ill-nature,  all  the  numerous  group 

«  With  lowly  reverence  (loop — 
They  wait  thy  call,  and  mourn  thy  long  delay, 

Away— thou  art  infectious — hafte  away. 

ODE  VII. 

TO    THE    REV.    AND    LEARNED    DR.    WEBSTER, 
GccaftoncJ  by  bis  Dialogues  en  Anger  and  Forgivtneft. 

*TWAS  when  th'  omnifcient  creative  pow'r 
Difplay'd  his  wonders  by  a  mortal's  hand^ 

And,  delegated  at  th'  appointed  hour, 

Great  Mofes  led  away  his  chofen  band ; 
When  Ifrael's  hqft,  with  ail  their  (lores, 
Paft  through  the  ruby  tinctur'd  cryftal  (bores, 

The  wilderneis  of  waters  and  of  land  . 

Thai  persecution  rag'd  iniheav'n's  own  caufe, 
Strict  jufticc  for  the  brcacb  of  nature's  law'*, 
Ye:..  XI. 


•"P 

Th«,,legiflator  hcld  th;  fcytne  of  fate, 
Where'er  his  leg  o,n  cha.u'  i  to  ftray, 
Death  and  deduction  mark'd  their  blood* 

way  ; 
Immoderate  was  their  raj»c,  for  mortal  was 

BU1  Wjhe"  ^e  K;"g  of  Higlitcoafn-f,  arofe, 
And  on  the  illumin'd  cafl  (T  -^  -K-  finiPd 
He  fhone  with  meekeft  mercy  ou  h.s  foes     ' 
Bnght  as  the  r,,n,but  as  the  mooi-bcams  mild; 
From  anger,  f,H  reve.-.ge,  and  difeord  free. 
He  bade  war's  helliih  da^oi  ceafe, 
[n  paftoral  fimpliciry  and  peace, 
And  (how  d  to  man  that  face,  which  Moles  could 
not  fee. 

Well  haft  thou  Webder,  pictur'd  Chriftian  love, 
And  copled  our  great  Matter's  fah  dcii™ 

But  livid  envy  would  the  light  i'cmovt, 
Or  crowd  thy  portrait  in  a  nook  malign— 

1  he  mufe  (hail  hold  it  up  to  popuur  vi-.-w 

Where  the  more  candid  and  judicious  few 
Shall  think  the  brijrli-.  ongmul  d.ey  fee, 

The  likenefs  nobly  loft  in  the  identity. 

Oh  hadft  thou  liv'd  in  better  days  than  theft 

E'er  to  excel  by  all  was  deem'd  a  ftiame ! 
Alas !  thou  haft  no  modern  arts  to  pleafe, 

And  to  deferve  is  all  thy  emptv  claim. 
Elfe  thou'dft  been  plac'd,  by  learning,  and  by  wit. 
There,  where  thy  dignify'd  inferiors  fit— 

Oh  they  are  in  their  generations  wife, 
Each  path  of  intereft  they  have  fagely  trod,— 

To  live — to  thrive— to  rife— and  fti'l  to  rife- 
Better  to  bow  to  men,  than  kneel  to  God. 

Behold  where"  poor  unmanfion'd  merit  ftands, 
All  cold  and  crainp'd  with  penury  and  pain; 
Speechlefs  through  want,  (he  rears  th'  imploring 

hands, 

And  begs  a  little  bread,  but  b^gs  in  vain; 
While  bribery  and  dullnefs,  pafling-by, 
Bid  her,  in  founds  barbarian,  l\ar\e  and  die. 
"  Away  (they  cry)  we  never  law  thy  name 
"  Or  in  preferment's  lift,  or  that  of  iame; 
"  Away — not  here  the  fate  thou  earn'ft  bewail, 
"  Who  can'ft  not  buy  a  vote,  nor  haft  a  loul  for 
"  fal  ." 

Oh  indignation,  wherefore  wert  thou  given, 
I!  drowfy  patience  deaden  all  thy  r*       — 

Yet  we  muft  bear — fuch  is  the  \vill  of  Heaven  * 
And,  Webfter,  fo  prefcribes  thy  candid  page. 

Then  let  us  hear  thee  preach  fcr.-.]>hic  love, 

Guide  our  difgufted  thnujrhts  to  things  above; 
So  our  free  fouls,  fed  with  divine  rep:ifl, 

(Unmindful  of  low  mortals  m«.an  emplerj 
ShcJl  tafte  the  prefent,  recollect  th?  j  a.i,  * 
And  (Irongly  hope  for  every  future  joy. 

ODE  VIII. 

•  PITHAtAMIUSC. 

DESCCND,  defcend,  ye  fweet  Aonlan  mai<% 

Leave  the  Parnuflian  (baric*, 
The  joyful  Hymeneal  fiug, 
And  to  a  lovelier  fair 

Than  fiction  ran  devife.  or  eloquence  declare, 
You-  vocal  tribute^  br|u|| 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


And  you,  ye  winged  chorifters,  that  fly 
In  all  the  penfile  gardens  of  the  fky, 

Chant  through  the  enamell'd  grove,  * 
Stretch  from  the  trembling  leaves  your  little 
.  throats, 

With  all  the  wild  variety  of  artlefs  notes, 

But  let  each  note  be  love. 
Fragrant  Flora,  queen  of  May, 
All  oedight  with  garlands  gay, 
Where  in  the  fmooth-fhaven  green 
The    fpangled    cowflips    variegate  the 

fcene, 

And  the  rivulet  between, 
Whifpers,  murmurs,  (ings, 
As  it  ftoops,  or  falls,  or  fprings  ; 
There  fpread  a  fofa  of  thy  fofteft  flowers, 

There  let  the  bridegroom  flay, 
There  let  him  hate  the  light  and  curfe  the  day, 
And  blame  the  tardy  hours. 

But  fee  the  bride  flic  comes  with  filent  pace, 

Full  of  majefty  and  love ; 
,         Not  with  a  nobler  grace 

Look'd  the  imperial  wife  of  Jove, 
When  erft  ineffably  fhe  fhone 
In  Venus'  irrefiftible,  enchanting  zone. 

Phoebus,   great  god  of  verfe,  the  nymph  ob- 
ferve, 

Obferve  her  well ; 
Then  touch  each  fweetly  trem'lous  nerve 

Of  thy  refounding  {hell : 
Her  like  huntrefs-Dian  paint, 
Modefl,  but  without  restraint ; 
From  Pallas  take  her  decent  pace, 
With  Venus  fweeten  all  her  face, 
From  the  zephyrs  fteal  her  ftghs, 
From  thyfelf  her  fun-bright  eyes ; 
Then  baffled  thou  fhalt  fee, 
That  as  did  Daphne  thee, 
Her  charms  defcription's  force  fhall  fly, 
And  by  no  foft  perfuafive  founds  be  brib'd 
To  come  within  invention's  narrow  eye ; 
But  all  indignant  fhun  its  grafp,and  fcorn  to  be  de- 
fcrib'd. 

Now  fee  the  bridegroom  rife, 

Oh,  how  impatient  are  his  joysf 
Bring  zephyrs  to  depaint  his  voice, 

Bring  lightning  for  his  eyes- 
He  leaps,  he  fprings,  he  flies  into  her  arms, 
With  joy  intenfe 
Feeds  ev'ry  fenfe, 
And  fultauates  o'er  all  her  charms. 
Oh  !  had  I  Virgil's  comprehenfive  ftrain, 
Or  fung  like  Pope,  without  a  word  in  vain, 
Then  fhould  I  hope  my  numbers  might  contain, 
Engaging  nymph,  thy  boundlefs  happinefs, 

How  arduous  to  exprefs  ? 
Such  may  it  laft  to  all  eternity : 
And  may  thy  lord  with  t«ee, 
Like  two  coeval  pines  in  Ida's  grove, 
That,  interweave  their  verdant  arms  in  k>ve, 
Eacti  mutual  office  cheerfully  perform, 
And  (hare  alike  the  funfhine  and  the  florm; 
And  ever,  as  you  flourifh  hand  in  hand, 
Both  fhade  the  mepherd  and  adorn  the  land* 

Tcigcther  with  each  growing  year  arife, 
Indiffolubly  link'd,  and  climb  a:  laft  the  fkies. 


ODE  IX. 

The  Author  apologizes  to  a  Lady,  for  bis  being  a  litfk 
Man. 

"  Natura  nufquam  magis,   quam  in    rmnimis 
tota  eft."  PUN. 


OX/yov 


HoM. 


YKS,  contumelious  fair,  you  fcorn 
The  amorous  dwarf  that  courts  you  to  his  arms, 

But  ere  you  leave  him  quite  forlorn, 
And  to  fome  youth  gigantic  yield  your  charms. 
Hear  him— oh  hear  him  f  if  you  will  not  try, 
And  let  your  judgment  check  th'  ambition  of  your 

eye. 

Say,  is  it  carnage  makes  the  man  ? 
Is  to  be  mohftrous  really  to  be  great  ? 

Say,  is  it  wife  or  iuft  to  fcan 
Your  lover's  worth  by  quantity,  or  weight  ? 
Afk  your  mamma  and  nurfe,  if  it  be  fb ; 
Nurfe  and  mamma,  I  ween,  fhall  jointly  anfwer,  no. 

The  lefs  the  body  to  the  view, 
The  foul  (like  fprings  in  clofer  durance  pent) 

Is  all  exertion,  ever  new, 
Unccafing,  unextinguifh'd,  and  unfpent; 
Still  pouring  forth  executive  defire, 
As  bright,  as  briflc,  and  lafting,  as  the  veftal  fire. 

Does  thy  young  bofom  pant  for  fame? 
Would'ft  thou  be  of  pofterity  the  toaft  ? 

The  poets  fhall  enfure  thy  name, 
Who  magnitude  of  mind  not  body  boaft. 
Laurels  on  bulky  bards  as  rarely  grow, 
As  on  the  fturdy  oak  the  virtuous  mifletoe. 
Look  in  the  glafs,  furvey  that  cheek — 
Where  Flora  has  with  all  her  rofes  blufh'd  ; 

The  fhape  fo  tender — looks  fo  meek — 
The  breads  made  to  be  prefs'd,  not  to  becrufh'd ; 
Then  turn  to  me-*-turn  with  obliging  eyes, 
Nor  longer  nature's  works,  in  miniature,  defpife. 

Young  Ammon  did  the  world  fubdue, 
Yet  had  not  more  external  man  than  I ; 
Ah,  charmer  '.  fhould  I  conquer  you, 
With  him  in  fame,  as  well  as  fize,  111  vie. 
Then  fcornful  nymph,  come  forth  to  yonder  grove. 
Where  I  defy  and  challenge,  all  thy  utmoft  love. 

ODE  X. 

On  the  26tf>  of  January,  being  tie  Birth-Day  of  m. 
Young  Lady. 

ALL  hail,  and  welcome  joyous  morn, 

Welcome  to  the  infant  year  ; 
Whether  fmooth  calms  thy  face  adorn* 

Or  low'ring  clouds  appear  ; 
Though  billows  lafli  the  founding  more, 
And  tempefts  through  the  forefts  roar, 

Sweet  Nancy's  voice  fhall  footh  the  found  -r 
Though  darknefs  fhould  inveft  the  fkies ; 
New  day  fhall  beam  from  Nancy's  eyes, 

And  blefs  all  nature  round. 
Let  but  thofe  lips  their  fweets  difclofe, 

And  rich  perfumes  exhale, 
We  fhall  not  want  the  fragrant  rofe  * J 

Nor  mifs  the  fouthern  gale.  . 

Then  loofely  to  the  winds  unfold 
Thofe  radiant  locks  of  burniftx'd  gold, 


POEMS. 


Or  on  thy  bofom  let  therri  rove ; 
His  treafure-houie  there  Cupid  keeps, 
And  hoards  up,  in  two  fnowy  heaps, 

His  ilores  of  choiceft  love. 

This  day  each  warmeft  wifh  he  paid 

To  thee  the  mufe's  pride  ; 
I  long  to  fee  the  blooming  maid 

Changed  to  the  blufhing  bride. 
So  fhall  thy  pleafure  and  thy  praife 
lucreafe  with  the  irtcreafing  days, 

And  prefent  joys  exceed  the  paft ; 
To  give  and  to  receive  delight, 
Shall  be  thy  taflc  both  day  and  night, 

While  day  and  night  fhail  laft. 

ODE  XI. 

ON  TAKING  A  BACHELOR'S  DEGREE. 

In  Allufion  to  Horace.     Bool  III.   Ode  30. 

"  Exegi  monumentum  xra  perennius,  &c. 

'Tis  done  :— I  tow'r  to  that  degree, 

And  catch  fuch  heav'nly  fire, 
That  Horace  ne'er  could  rant  like  me, 

Nor  is  (<i)  King's  Chapel  higher. 
My  name  in  fure  recording  page 

(£)  Shall  time  itfelf  o'erpow'r, 
If  no  rude  mice  with  envious  rage 

The  buttery  books  devour. 
A  *  title  too  with  added  grace 

My  name  {hall  now  attend, 
(<r)  Till  to  the  church  with  filent  pace 

A  nymph  and  prieft  afcend. 
Ev'n  in  the  ichools  I  now  rejoice, 

Where  late  I  fhook  with  fear, 
Nor  heed  the  (rf)  moderator's  voice 

Loud  thund'ring  in  my  ear. 
Then  with  (<•)  JEolian  flute  I  blow 

A  foft  Italian  lay, 
Or  where  (/)  Cam's  fcanty  waters  flow, 

Releas'd  from  lectures,  ftray. 
Meanwhile,  friend  f  Banks,  niy  merits  claim 

Their  juft  reward  from  you, 
For  Horace  bids  us  (^)  challenge  fame, 

When  once  that  fame's  our  due. 
Inveft  me  with  a  graduate's  gown, 

'Midft  fliouts  of  all  beholders, 
(/j)  My  head  with  ample  fquare  cap  crown, 

And  deck  with  hood  my  {houiders. 


And  deck  with  hood  my  flic 
Cambridge, 


B.  A. 


(a)  Regali  fitu  pyramidum  altius.— 

(A)  Quod  non  innumerabilis 

Annorum  feries,  £c. 

(c)  Bum  Capitolium 

Scandet  cum  tacite  virgine  pontifei,' 

(</) Qua  violens 

Obftrepit  Aufidus. 

(<•)  ..        folium  carmen  ad  Italos 

Deduxifie  modos. 

(/) Qua  paupsr  aquae  Daunus,  &c,' 

(jr)  ___  Sume  fuperbiam 

Qusefitanvmeritis. 

(b) Mihi  Delphica 

Lauro  cinge  volcns— — comam. 

*   Bachelor. 

f  rfi  ctlcbrattf  taj!ar. 


ODE  XII. 
A  MORNING  PIECE; 

OR,   AN  HYMN  FOR  THE  HAY-MAKERS. 

"  Quinetiam  GaUum  nodem  explaudcntibus  alii 
"  Aurorum  clara  confuetum  voce  vocare." 

LUOKET. 

BRISK  Chauntlclecr  his  mattins  had  begun, 

And  broke  the  filence  of  the  night, 
And  thrice  he  call'd  aloud  the  tardy  fun, 

And  thrice  he  hail'd  the  dawn's  ambiguous 

light;  [run. 

Back  to  their  graves  the  fear-begotten  phantoms 

Strong  labour  got  up  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth, 

And  ftoutly  ftrode  over  the  dale ; 
He  lent  new  perfumes  to  the  breath  of  the  fouth; 

On  his  back  hung  his  wallet  and  flail, 
Behind  him  came  health  from  her  cottage  of  thatch, 
Where  never  phyfician  had  lifted  the  latch. 
Firfl  of  the  village  Colin  was  awake, 
And  thus  he  fung  reclining  on  his  rake. 

Now  the  rural  graces  three 

Dance  beneath  yon  mapple  tree  ; 

Firft  the  veftal  virtue,  known 

By  her  adamantine  zone ; 

Next  to  her  in  rofy  pride, 

Sweet  fociety  the  bride ; 

Lift  honefty,  full  feemly  dreft 

In  her  cleanly  home-fpun  veft. 
The  abbey  bells  in  wak'ning  rounds 

The  warning  peal  have  ghr'n  ; 
And  pious  gratitude  refounds 

Her  morning  hymn  to  Heav'n. 
All  nature  wakes — the  birds  unlock  their  throats* 
And  mock  the  fliepherd's  ruftic  notes. 

All  alive  o'er  the  lawn, 

Full  glad  of  the  dawn, 

The  little  lambkins  play, 
Sylvia  and  Sol  arife— and  all  is  day — 

Come,  my  mates,  let  us  work, 

And  all  hands  to  the  fork, 
While  the  fun  mines  our  hay-cocks  to  make  •, 

So  fine  is  the  day, 

And  fo  fragrant  the  hay, 
That  the  meadow's  as  blithe  as  the  wake ; 

Our  voices  let's  raife 

In  Phcebus's  praife, 
Infpir'd  by  fo  glorious  a  theme, 

Our  mufical  words 

Shall  be  join'd  by  the  birds, 
And  we'll  dance  to  the  tune  of  the  ftrearo. 

ODE  XIII. 
A  NOON-PIECE ; 

OR,   THE  MOWERS  AT  DINNER. 

"  Jam  paftor  umbras  cum  grege  lan^uido, 
«  Rivumque  fcflus  quserit.  et  horridi 

«  Dumeta  Sylvani,  caretque 

"  Ripa  vagis  taciturna  ventis."  HoR« 

TUB  fun  is  now  radiant  to  behold, 
And  vehement  he  {beds  his  liquid  ray*  of  gold; 
No  cloud  appears  through  all  the  wide  expanfe ; 
And  fbpii,  but  yet  diftinc*  and  dear, 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMARf. 


To  the  wanton  whittling  air 
The  mimic  fhadows  dance. 

Fat  mirth  and  gallantry  the  gay, 
And  romping  ecftafy  'gin  play. 
Now  myriads  of  young  Cupids  rife, 
And  open  all  their  joy-bright  eyes, 
Filling  with  infant  prate  the  grove, 
And  lifp  in  fweetly  fault'ring  love. 
In  the  middle  of  the  ring, 
Mad  with  May,  and  wild  of  wing, 
Fire-ey'd  wantonnefs  fliall  fing. 
By  the  rivulet  on  the  ruflies, 
Beneath  a  canopy  of  bufhes, 
Where  the  ever-faithful  Tray 
Guards  the  dumplins  and  the  whey, 
Colin  Clout  and  Yorkshire  Will, 
From  the  leathern  bottle  fwill.* 
Their  fcythes  upon  the  adverfe  bank 

Glitter  'mongft  th'  entangled  trees, 
Where  the  hazles  form  a  rank, 

And  curtfy  to  the  courting  breeze. 
Ah  Harriot !  fovereign  miilrefs  of  my  heart, 

Could  I  thee  to  thefe  meads  decoy, 
New  grace  to  each  fair  object  fhould  impart, 
And  heighten  ev'ry  fcene  to  perfect  joy. 
On  a  bank  of  fragrant  thyme, 
Beneath  yon  ftately  fhadowy  pine, 
We'll  with  the  well-difguifed  hook 
Cheat  the  tenants  of  the  brook ; 
Or  where  my  Daphne's  thickeft  fhade 
Drives  amorous  Phcebus  from  the  glade, 
There  read  Sydney's  high-wrought  ftories 
Of  ladies  charms  and  heroes  glories ; 
Thence  fir'd,  the  fweet  narration  act, 
And  kifs  the  fiction  into  fact. 
Or  fatiate  with  nature's  random  fcenes, 
Let's  to  the  garden's  regulated  greens, 
Where  tafte  and  elegance  command 
Art  to  lend  her  daedal  hand, 
Where  Flora's  flock,  by  nature  wild, 
To  difcipline  are  reconcil'd, 
And  laws  and  order  cultivate, 
Quite  civiliz'd  into  a  ftate. 
From  the  fun  and  from  the  fhow'r, 
Hafte  we  to  yon  boxen  bow'r, 
Secluded  from  the  teazing  pry 
Of  Argus'  curioftty : 
There,  while  Phcebus'  golden  mean, 
The  gay  meridian  is  feen. 
Ere  decays  the  lamp  of  light, 
And  length'ning  (hades  ftretch  out  to  night- 
Seize,  feize  die  hino— each  hour  improve 
(This  is  morality  in  love) 
Lend,  lend  thine  hand — O  let  me  riew 
Thy  parting  breafts,  fweet  avenue ! 
Then — then  thy  lips,  the  coral  cell 
Where  all  th'  ambrofial  kifles  dwell ! 
Thus  we'll  each  fultry  noon  employ 
In  day-dreams  of  ecftatic  joy. 

ODE  xiv. 

A  NIGHT-PIECE; 

OK,    MODERN    PHILOSOPHY. 

"  Dicctur  merita  nox  quoque  ncenia."      Hoa. 

JTwas  when  bright  Cynthia  with  her  filvcr  Car, 
Soft  Healing  from  Eudymiop's  bcdj 


Had  call'd  forth  ev'ry  glitt'ring  ftar, 
And  up  th'  afcent  of  heav'n  her  brilliant  hoft 

had  led, 

Night,  with  all  her  negro  train, 
Took  pofleffion  of  the  plain ; 
In  an  herfe  (he  rode  reclin'd, 
Drawn  by  fcreech-owls  flow  and  blind : 
Clofe  to  her,  with  printlefs  feet, 
Crept  Stillnefs  in  a  winding-fheet. 
Next  to  her  deaf  Silence  was  feen, 
Treading  on  tiptoes  over  the  green ; 
Softly,  lightly,  gently,  fhe  trips, 
Still  holding  her  fingers  feal'd  to  her  lipst 
You  could  not  fee  a  fight, 
•     You  could  not  hear  a  fou^d, 
But  what  confefs'd  the  night, 

And  horror  deepen'd  round. 
Beneath  a  myrtle's  melancholy  fhade, 
Sophron  the  wife  was  laid : 

And  to  the  anfw'ring  wood  thefe  founds  convey'*^ 
While  others  toil  within  the  town, 
And  to  fortune  fmile  or  frown, 
Fond  of  trifles,  fond  of  toys, 
And  married  to  that  woman,  Noife ; 
Sacred  wifdom  be  my  care, 
And  faireft  virtue,  wifdom's  heir. 
His  speculations  thus  the  fage  begun, 

When,  lo !  the  neighbouring  bell 
In  folemn  found  ftruck  one : — 

He  ftarts,  and  recollects,  he  was  engag'd  to  Nell. 
Then  up  he  fprang,  nimble  and  light, 

And  rapp'd  at  fair  Ele'nor's  door, 
He  laid  afide  virtue  that  night, 
And  next  morn  por'd  in  Plato  for  more. 


ODE  XV. 


LONG,  with  undillinguifh'd  flame, 
I  lov'd  each  fair,  each  witty  dame. 
My  heart  the  belle-affcmbly  gain'd, 
And  all  an  equal  fway  maintain' d. 

But  when  you  came,  you  flood  confeis'd 

Sole  fultana  of  my  breaft ; 

For  you  eclips'd,  fupre^nely  fair, 

All  the  whole  feraglio  there. 

In  this  her  mien,  in  that  her  grace, 
In-  a  third  I  lov'd  a  face ; 
But  you  in  ev'ry  feature  fliine 
Univerfally  divine. 

What  can  thofe  tumid  paps  excel  ? 
Do  they  fink,  or  do  they  fwcll  ? 
While  thofe  lovely  wanton  eyes 
Sparkling  meet  them  as  they  rife. 

Thus  «  filrer  Cynthia  feen, 
Gliftening  o'er  the  glafly  green, 
While  attracted  fwell  the  wares, 
Emerging  from  their  inmofl  caves. 

When  to  fweet  founds  your  fleps  yon  fuit, 
And  weave  the  minuet  to  the  lute, 
Heav'ns !  how  you  glide  ! — her  neck 
Does  fhe  move,  or  does  fhe  reft  ? 

As  thofe  roguifh  eyes  advance, 
Let  me  catch  their  fide-long  glance 


POEMS. 


Soon — or  they'll  elude  my  fight, 
Quick  as  light'ning,  and  as  bright. 

Thus  the  bafliful  pleiad  cheats 
The  gazer's  eye,  and  ftill  retreats ; 
Then  peeps  again — then  fkulks  unfeen, 
Veil'd  behind  the  azure  fcreen. 

Like  the  evening-toying  dove, 
Smile  immeniity  o-Hove; 
Be  Venus  in  each  outward  part, 
And  wear  the  veftal  in  your  heart. 

When  I  afk  a  kifs,  or  fo — 

Grant  it  with  a  begging  no, 

And  let  each  rule  that  decks  your  face 

Blufh  aflent  to  my  embrace. 

ODE  XVI. 

6a  the  $tl>  of 'December,  being  the  Birth-Day  of  a 
Beautiful  Toxng  Lady. 

HAIL,  eldeft  of  the  monthly  train, 

Sire  of  the  winter  drear, 
December,  in  whofe  iron  reign 

Expires  the  chequer'd  year. 
Hufli  all  the  bluft'rmg  blafts  that  blow, 
And,  proudly  plum'd  in  filver  fnow, 

Smile  gladly  on  this  bleft  of  days. 
The  livery'd  clouds  fliall  on  thee  wait, 
And  Phoebus  fhine  in  all  his  ftate 

With  more  than  fummer  rays. 

Though  jocund  June  may  juftly  boaft 

Long  days  and  happy  hours, 
Though  Auguft  be  Pamona's  holt, 

And  May  be  crown'd  with  flow'rs ; 
Tell  June,  his  fire  and  crimfon  dyes, 
By  Harriot's  blufh  and  Harriot's  eyes, 

Eclips'd  and  vanquifh'd,  fade  away  : 
Tell  Auguft,  thou  canit  let  him  fee 
A  richer,  riper  fruit  than  he, 

A  1'weeter  flow'r  than  May. 

ODE  FOR  MUSIC, 

ON    ST.    CECILIA'S. DAY. 

*'  Hanc  Vos,  Pierides  feftis  cantate  calendis, 
"  Et  teltudinci,  Phoebe  fuperbe,  lyrjl 

"  Hoc  folenne  facrum  multos  celebretur  in  annos, 
"  Dignior  eft  veftro  nullapuella  choro." 

TIBULLUS. 

PREFACE. 

THE  author  of  the  following  piece  has  been  told, 
that  the  writing  an  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day,  after 
Mr.  Dryden  and  Mr.  Pope,  would  be  great  pre- 
fumption ;  which  is  the  reafon  he  detains  the 
reader  in  this  place  to  make  an  apology,  much 
againft  his  will ;  he  having  all  due  contempt  for 
the  impertinence  of  prefaces.  In  the  firft  place, 
then,  it  will  be  a  little  hard  (he  thinks)  if  he 
ihould  be  particularly  marked  out  forcenfure,  ma 
ny  others  having  written  on  the  fame  fubject  with 
out  any  fuch  imputations;  but  they  (it  may  be)  did 
not  live  long  enough  to  be  laughed  at;  or,  by  fome 
lucky  means  or  other,  cfcaped  thofe  llirewd  re- 
s,  which,  it  feems,  are  referred  for  him.  In 


the  fecond  place,  this  fubjedl  was  not  his  choice* 
but  impofed  upon  him  by  a  gentleman  very  emi 
nent  in  the  fcience  of  mufic,  for  whcm  he  has  a 
great  friendfhip ;  and  who  is,  by  his  good  fenfe 
ami  humanity,  as  much  elevated  abo»c  the  gene- 
rality  of  mankind,  at  by  his  exquifite  art  he  is 
above  moft  of  his  profeffion.  The  requeft  of  a 
friend,  undoubtedly,  will  be  Iheered  at  by  fome  as 
a  ftale  and  antiquated  apology :  it  is  a  very  good 
one  notwithftanding,  which  is  manifeft  even  from 
its  tritenefs;  for  it  can  never  be  imagined,  that  fo 
many  excellent  authors,  as  well  as  bad  ones,  would 
have  made  ufe  of  it,  had  they  not  been  convinced 
of  its  cogency.  As  for  the  writer  of  this  piece,  he 
will  rejoice  in  being  derided,  not  only  for  obliging 
his  friends,  but  any  honeft  man  whatfocver,  fo 
far  as  may  be  in  the  power  of  a  perfon  of  his  mean 
abilities.  He  does  not  pretend  to  equal  the  very 
worft  parts  of  the  two  celebrated  performers  al 
ready  extant  on  the  fubject ;  which  acknowledg 
ment  alone  will,  with  the  good-natured  and  judi 
cious,  acquit  him  of  prefumption ;  becaufe  thefe 
pieces,  however  excellent  upon  the  whole,  are  net 
without  their  blemifhes.  There  is  in  them  both  an 
exact  unity  of  defign,  which  though  in  corapofi- 
tions  of  another  nature  a  beauty,  is  an  improprie 
ty  in  the  Pindaric  ;  which  mould  conGft  in  the  ve 
hemence  of  fudden  and  unlooked-for  Iran  fit  ions ' 
hence  chiefly  it  derives  that  enthufiaftic  fire  and 
wildnefs,  which  greatly  diftinguifh  it  from  other 
fpecies  of  poefy.  In  the  firft  ftanza  of  *  Dryden, 
and  in  the  fifth  of  f  Pope,  there  is  an  air,  which 
is  fo  far  from  being  adapted  to  the  majefty  of  an 
ode,  that  it  would  make  no  considerable  figure  in 
a  ballad.  And,  laftly,  they  both  conclude  with  a 
.turn  which  hasfomething  too  epigrammatical  in  it. 
Bating  thefe  trifles,  they  are  incomparably  beauti 
ful  and  great ;  neither  is  there  to  be  found  two 
moral  nniflied  pieces  of  lyric  poetry  in  our  lan 
guage,  L' Allegro,  and  II  Penferolb  of  Milton 
excepted,  which  are  the  fineft  in  any.  Dryden's  is 
the  more  fublime  and  magnificent ;  but  Pope's  is 
the  more  elegant  and  correct ;  Dryden  has  the 
fire  and  fpirit  of  Pindar,  and  Pope  has  the  terfe« 
nefs  and  purity  of  Horace.  Dryden's  is  certainly 
the  more  elevated  performance  of  the  two,  but  by 
no  means  fo  much  fo  as  people  in  general  will 
have  it.  There  are  few  that  will  allow  any  fort  of 
comparifoii  to  be  made  between  them.  This  is  in 
fome  meafure  owing  to  that  prevailing,  but  ab- 
furd  cullom  which  has  obtained  from  J  Horace'? 

*  Happy,  happy,  happy  pairt 

None  but  the  brave, 

None  but  the  brave, 
Nope  but  the  brave  deferve  the  fair. 

f  Thus  fong  could  prevail 

O'er  death  and  o'er  hell, 
A  conqueft  how  hard  and  how  glorious ! 

Though  fate  had  faft  bound  her 

With  Styx  nine  times  round  her, 
Yet  mufic  and  love  were  victorious. 

f  Jt  feems  to  have  been  otberwife  in  Homer'1 1 


I.iij 


134 

time  even  to  this  day,  i>i-z.  of  preferring  authors  to 
the  bays  by  feniority.  Had  Mr.  Pope  written  firft, 
the  mob,  that  judge  by  this  rule,  would  have  given 
him  the  preference ;  and  the  rather,  becaufe  in 
this  piece  he  does  not  deferve  it. 

It  would  not  be  right  to  conclude,  without 
taking  notice  of  a  fine  fubjecT:  for  an  Ode  on  St. 
Cecilia's  Day,  which  was  fuggefted  to  the  author 
by  his  friend  the  learned  and  ingenious  Mr.  Com 
ber,  late  of  Jefus'  College  in  this  univerfity  ;  that 
is,  David's  playing  to  King  Saul  when  he  was 
troubled  with  the  evil  fpirit.  He  was  much  pleaf- 
ed  with  the  hint  at  firft, but  at  length  was  deterred 
from  improving  it  by  the  greatnefs  of  the  fubjedl; 
and,  he  thinks,  not  without  reafon.  The  choofing 
too  high  fubjedls  has  been  the  vuin  of  many  a  Tole 
rable  genius.  There  is  a  good  rule  which  Frefnoy 
prefcribesto  the  painters;  which  is likewife  appli 
cable  to  the  poets, 

Supremam  in  tabulis  lucem  capture  die! 
Infanus  labor  amfkurri;  cum  attingere  tantum 
Non  pigmenta  queant :  auream  fed  Vefpere  lu 
cem  • 

Seu  modicum  mane  albentem  ;  five  aetheris  actam 
Poft  hyemen  nimbis  transfufo  fole  caducam  ;  [tern. 
Seu  nebulis  fultam  accipient,  tonitruque  ruben- 

ARGUM'ENT.     ,- 

'Stanza  i,  2.  Invocation  of  men  and  angels  to  join 
in  the  praife  of  St.  Cecilia.  The  divine  origin  of 
ir.ufic.  Stanza  3.  Art  of  mulic,  or  its  miracu 
lous  power  over  the  brute  and  inanimate  crea- 
'  tion,  exemplified  in  Waller;  and  ftanza  4,  5.  in 
Arion.  Stanza  6.  The  nature  of  mufic,  or  its 
power  over  the  paffions.  Inftances  of  this  in  its 
exciting  pity.  Stanza  7.  In  promoting  courage 
and  military  virtue.  Stanza  8.  Excellency  of 
chuclvmufic:  Air  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Pur- 
cell. — Praife  of  the  organ  and  its  inventrefs  St. 
Cecilia. 

FROM  your  lyre-enchanted  tow'js, 
Ye  mulkally  myiiic  pow'rs, 
Ye,  that  inform  the  tuneful  fpheres, 
Inaudible  to  mortal  ears, 
While  each  orb  in  ether  fwims, 
Accordant  to  th*  infpiring  hymns; 
Hither  Paradife  remove,  " 
Spirits  of  harmony  and  love  ! 
Thou  too,  divine  Urania,  deign  t'  appear, 
And  with  thy  fweetly-folemn  lute 
To  the  grand  argument  the  numbers  fuit j 
Such  as  fublime  and  clear, 
Replete  with  heavenly  love, 
Charm  th'  enraptuf'd  fouls  above. 
Difdainful  of  fantaftic  play, 

Mix  on  your  ambrofiat  tongue 
Weight  of  fenfe  with  found  of  fong, 
And  be  angelically  gay. 

CHORUS. 

Difdainful,  Sec,  See. 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


And  Pindar  ivojild  have  it  otherivife  in  his- 


euw  yi  Hcc  \ 

e<v«v,  etv&toc  a   vf 


Olymp.  o. 


And  you,  ye  fons  of  harmony  below, 

How  little  lefs  than  angels  when  ye  ling  ! 

With  emulation's  kindling  warmth  fhall  glow, 
And  from  your  mellow-modulating  throats 
The  tribute  of  your  grateful  notes 

In  union  of  piety  fhall  bring. 

Shall  echo  from  her  vocal  cave 
Repay  each  nofe  the  fhepherd  gave, 
And  (hall  net  we  our  miltrefs  praife, 
And  give  her  back  the  borrow'd  lays? 

But  farther  ftill  our  prailes  we  purfue  ; 
For  ev'n  Cecilia,  mighty  maid, 
CotifelVd  fhe  had  fuperior  aid — 

She  did —  and  other  rites  to  greater  pow'rs  are  due. 
Higher  fwell  the  found,  and  higher  : 
Let  the  winged  numbers  climb  : 
To  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns  afpire, 

Solemn,  facred,  and  fublime  : 
From  heav'n  mufic  took  its  rife, 
Return  it  to  its  native  ikies. 

CHORUS. 
Higher  fwell  the  found,  &c.  See. 

Mufic's  a  celcftial  art ; 

Ceafe  to  wonder  at  its  pow'r, 
Though  lifelefs  rocks  to  motion  ftart, 

Though    trees  dance    lightly  from  the 

bow'r, 

Though  rolling  floods  in  fweet  fufpenfe 
Are  held,  and  liften  into  fenfe. 
In    Penhurlt's    plains    when    Waller,    lick    with 

love, 

Has  found  fame  folitary  grove, 
Where  the  vague  moon-beams  pour  a  filver  flood 
Of  trem'lous  light  athwart  th'  unftiaven  wood, 

Within  an  hoary  mofs-grown  cell, 
He  lays  his  carelefs  limbs  without  referve, 
And  lirikes,  impetuous  ftrikes  each  quer'ious  nerve 

Of  his  refounding  fhell. 
In  all  the  woods,  in  all  the  plains 
Around,  a  lively  itillnefs  reigns  ; 
The  deer  approach  the  fecret  fcene, 
And  weave    their  way  through    labyrinths 

green  ; 

While  Philomela  learns  the  lay, 
And  anfwers  from  the  neighbouring  bay. 
But  Medway,  melancholy  mute, 

Gently  on  his  urn  reclines, 
And  all-attentive  to  the  lute, 

In  uncomplaining  anguifh  pines : 
The  cryftal  waters  weep  away, 
And  bear  the  tidings  to  the  fea : 

Neptune  in  the  boifterous  feas 
Spreads  the  placid  bed  of  peace, 
While  each  blaft, 
Or  breathes  its  laft. 
Or  juft  does  figh  a  fymphony,  and  ceafe. 

CHORUS. 
Neptune,  Stc.  &c. 

Behold  Arion — on  the  ftern  he  ftands, 

Pall'd  in  theatrical  attire, 
To  the  mute  firings  he  moves  th'  enliv'ning  hand.% 

Great  in  diftrefs,  and  wakes  the  golden  lyres' 
While  in  a  tender  Orthian  it  rain 
He  thus  accofls  the  miftrefs  of  the  main: 

By  the  bright  beams  of  Cynthia's  eyes, 

Thiough  which  your  waves  attracted  rife, 


POEMS. 


And  actuate  the  hoary  deep ; 
By  the  fecret  coral  cell, 
Where  love,  and  joy,  and  Neptune  dwell, 
And  peaceful  floods  in  filence  deep : 
By  the  fea-flowers  that  immerge 
Their  heads  around  the  grotto's  verge, 

Dependant  from  the  Hooping  ftem  ; 
By  each  roof-fufpended  drop, 
That  lightly  lingers  on  the  top, 
And  hefitates  into  a  gem  ; 
By  thy  kindred  wat'ry  gods, 
The  lakes,  the  riv'lets,  founts  and  floods, 
And  all  the  pow'rs  that  live  unfeen 
Underneath  the  liquid  green  ; 
Great  Amphitrite  (for  thou  canft  bind 
The  ftorm  and  regulate  the  wind) 
tience  waft  me,  fair  goddefs,  oh  waft  me  away, 
Secure  from  the  men  arid  the  monlters  of  prey  I 

CHORUS. 

Great  Amphitrite,  &c.  &c. 
He  fung — The  winds  are  charm'd  to  fleep, 
Soft  ftiilnefs  fteals  along  the  deep, 
The  tritons  and  the  nereids  figh 
In  foul-reflecting  fympathy, 
And  all  the  audience  of  waters  weep. 
But  Amphitrite  her  dolphin  fends—*  the  fame, 
Which  erft  to  Neptune  brought  the  nobly  perjur'd 


Pleas'd  to  obey,  the  beauteous  monfter  flies, 
And  on  his  fcales  as  the  gilt  fun-beams 

play, 
Ten  thoufand  variegated  dyes 

In  copious  ilreams  of  luftrc  rife, 
Rife  o'er  the  level  main  and  fignify  his  way — 

And  now  the  joyous  bard,  in  triumph  bore 
Rides  the  voluminous  wave,  and  makes  the  wiftVd- 

for  fhore. 

Come,  ye  feftive,  focial  throng, 
Who  fweep  the  lyre,  or  pour  the  fdng, 
Your  nobleft  melody  employ, 
Such  as  becomes  the  mouth  of  joy, 
Bring  the  (ky-afpiring  thought, 
With  bright  expreflion  richly  wrought, 
And  hail  the  mufe  afcending  on  her  throne, 
The  main  at  length  fubdued,  and  all  the  world 
her  own. 

CHORUS. 

Come,  ye  feftive,  Stc.  &c. 

\     But  o'er  th'  affections  too  fhe  claims  the  fway, 
Pierces  the  human  heart,  and  fteals  the  foul  away 
And,  as  attractive  founds  move  high  or  low, 
Th'  obedient  ductile  pafllons  ebb  and  flow, 
Has  any  nymph  her  faithful  lover  loft, 
And  in  the  vifions  of  the  night, 
And  all  the  day  dreams  of  the  light, 
In  forrow's  tempeft  turbulently  toft— 

From  her  cheeks  the  rofes  die, 
The  radiations  vanilh  from  her  fun-bright  eye, 
And  her  breaft  the  throne  of  love, 
Can  hardly,  hardly,  hardly  move, 
To  fend  th'  ambrofial  figh. 

*  Tabulantur  Greed  bane  perfetuam.  Deis  fir 
gviitatem  wuije  ;fedcumaNeptunofollicitaretu 
ad  Atlantem  confugi/e,  ubi  a  Delphini  ferfua/f 
a/enjtt.    Lillus  Cyraldus. 


lut  let  the  Iktlful  bard  appear, 
And  pour  the  founds  medicinal  in  her  ear; 
Sing  tome  fad,  fome  plaintive  ditty, 
Steept  in  tears  that  endlefs  flow, 
Melancholy  notes  of  pity, 

Notes  that  mean  a  world  of  woe  > 
he  too  fhall  fympathize,  (he  too  lhall  moan, 
And  pitying  others  forrows  ligh  away  her  own. 

CHORUS. 

Sing  fome  fad,  fome,  Stc.  &c. 

Wake,  wake,  the  kettle-drum  prolong 
The  fwelling  trumpet's  filver  fong, 
And  let  the  kindred  accents  pafs 
Through  the  horn's  meandring  brafs. 
Arife — The  patriot  mufe  invites  to  war, 
And  mounts  Bellona's  brazen  car  ; 
While  harmony,  terrific  maid  ! 
Appears  in  martial  pomp  array'd  : 
The  fword,  the  target,  and  the  lance 
She  weilds,  and  as  Ihe  moves,  exalts  the  Pyrrhic 

dance. 

Trembles  the  earth,  refound  the  fkie»— 
Swift  o'er  the  fleet,  the  camp  (he  flies 
With  thunder  in  her  voice  and  lightning  in  her 

eyes. 

The  gallant  warriors  engage 
With  inextinguifljable  rage, 

And  hearts  unchill'd  with  fear; 

Fame  numbers  all  the  chofen  bands 

Full  in  the  front  fair  vict'ry  (lands, 

And  triumph  crowns  the  rear. 

CHORUS. 
The  gallant  warriors,  Sec.  Sec. 

But  hark,  the  temple's  hollow'd  roof  refounds, 
And  Purcell  lives  along  the  folemn  founds— 
Mellifluous,  yet  manly  too, 
He  pours  his  drains  along, 
As  from  the  lion  Samfon  flew, 

Comes  fweetnefs  from  the  ftrong. 
Not  like  the  foft  Italian  fwains, 
He  trills  the  weak  enervate  drains, 

Where  fenfe  and  mufic  are  at  ftrife ; 
His.  vigorous,  notes  with  meaning  term, 
With  fire,  with  torce  explain  the  theme, 

And  fings  the  fubj<?ct  into  life. 
Attend— he  fings  Caecilia— matchlefs  dame ! 
'Tis  (he— 'tis  Ihe— fond  to  extend  her  fame. 

On  the  loud  chords  the  notes  confpire  to  ftay, 
And  fweetly  fwejl  into  a  long  delay. 

And  dwell  delighted  on  her  name. 
Blow  on,  ye  farred  organs,  blow, 
In  tones  magnificently  (low ; 
Such  is  the  mufic,  fuch  the  lays, 
Which  fuit  your  fair  inventrefs'  praife  : 
While  round  religious  filence  reigns. 
And  loitering  winds  expect  the  drains. 
Hail  majeftic  mournful  meafure. 
Source  of  many  a  penfive  pleafure  I 
Bleft  pledge  of  love  to  mortals  giw'n, 
A8  pattern  of  the  reft  of  heav'n  '. 
And  thou  chief  honour  of  the  veil, 
Hail,  harmonious  virgin,  hail '. 
When  death  fliall  blot  out  every  name, 
And  time  fliall  break  the  trump  of  fame, 
I  iiij 


THE   WOfcfcS    OF  SMART. 


Angels  may  liften  to  thy  lute  : 
Thy  pow'r  fhall  laft,  thy  bays  Qiall  bJoom, 
When  tongues  fhall  ceafe,  and  worlds  confume, 

And  all  the  tuneful  fpheres  he  mute. 

GRAND  CHORUS. 

When  death  fhall  blot  out  every  name,  &c. 

HYMN  TO  THE  SUPREME  BEING, 
On  Recovery  from  a  Dangerous  Fit  of  Illnefs. 


TO  DOCTOK  JAMES. 


t>EAR 


HAVING  made  an  humble  offering  to  him,  with- 
cu  whofe  bleffing  your  (kill,  admirable  as  it  is, 
•would  have  been  to  no  purpofe,  1  think  myfelf 
bound  by  all  the  ties  of  gratitude,  to  render  my 
next  acknowledgments  to  you,  Who,  under  God, 
reftored  me  to  health  from  as  violent  and  dange 
rous  a  dilorder,  as  perhaps  ever  man  furvivtd. 
And  my  thanks  betomei  more  particularly  your 
juil  tribute,  fince  this  was  the  third  time.,  that 
your  judgment  and  medicines  refcued  me  from 
the  grave,  permit  me  to  fay,  in  a  manner  almoft 
miraculous. 

If  it  be  roeritorous  to  have  inveftigated  medi-, 
cines  for  the  cure  ot  diftempers,  either  overlooked 
or  difrrgarded  by  all  your  predecefibrs,  millions 
yet  unborn  will  celebrate  the  man,  who  wrote  the 
Medicinal  Dictionary,  and  invented  the  Fever 
Powder. 

Let  fuch  confiderations  as  thefe,  arm  you  wirh 
conf'ancy  againft  the  impotent  attacks  of  thofe 
xvhofe  interefts  interfere  with  that  of  mankind  ; 
and  let  it  not  difpleafe  you  to  have  thofe  for  your 
particular  enemies,  who  are  foes  to  the  public  in 
general; 

It  <s  no  wonder,  indeed,  that  feme  6f  the  re 
tailers  of  medicines  fhonld  zealouily  oppofe  what 
ever  might  endanger  their  trade;  but  it  is  amaz 
ing  that  there  fhould  be  any  phyficians  mercenary 
and  i«ean  enough  to  pay  their  court  to,  and  in 
gratiate  themielve*.  with,  fuch  perfons,  by  the 
ftrongflt  efforts  to  prejudice  the  inventor  of  the  Fe 
ver  Powder,  at  the  essence  of  honour,  dignity,  and 
confidence.  Believe  me.  however  and  let  this.be 
a  part  of  your  conlblation,  that  there  are  very  few 
phyficians  in  Britain,  who  were  born  gentlemen, 
and  whofe  fortunes  piace  them  above  fuch  fordid 
dependencies,  who  do  not  think  and  fpeakofyou 
as  I  do. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  molt  obliged, 

And  moft  humble  fetvant, 
C.  SMAKT. 

WntN  *  Ifbel's  ruler  on  the  royal  bed 
.    In  Hiiguifli  and  in  perturbation  lay, 
The  d'>wn  renev'd  not  h>s  anointed  head, 

And  reft  gave  place  to  honor  and  difmay. 
Taft  flow  'd  the  tears,  high  heav'd  each  gafping 
!'gh,  [then,  nv.ut  .He. 

When  God's  own  prophet  thunder'd^-Monarch, 

*  Ht*eki#b  vi.     JLfaiab  xuviii* 


And  muft  I  go,  th*  illuSrious  Mourner"  cry'cl, 
I  who  have  ferv'd  thee  ftill  in  faith  and  trutfe, 

Whofe  fnow-white  confcience  no  toul  crime  has 

dy'd 
From  youth  to  manhood,  infancy  to  youth, 

Like  David,  who  have  ftill  rever'd  thy  word 

The  fovereign  of  my,felf  and  fervant  of  the  Lord. 

The  Judge  Almighty  heard  his  fuppliant's  moan, 
Repeal'd  his  fentence,  and  hi>.  health  reftor'd  ; 

The  beams  of  mercy  on  his  temples  flione, 

Shot  from  that  heaven  to  which  his  fighs  hai 
foar'd ; 

The  *  fun  retreated  at  his  Maker's  nod, 

And  miracles  confirm  the  genuine  work  of  God. 

But,  O  immortals  !  What  had  I  to  plead 

When  death  ftood  o'er  me  with  his  threat'nimj 
lance, 

When  reafon  left  me  in  the  time  of  need, 
And  fenfe  was  left  in  terror  o,r  in  trance, 

My  finking  ioul  was  with  my  blood  inflam'd, 

And  the  celeftial  image  funk,  defac'd,  and  maim'd, 

I  fent  back  memory  in  heedfril  guife, 

folearch  the  records  of  preceding  years; 

Home,  like  the  f  raven  to  the  ark,  fhe  flies, 
Croaking  bad  tidings  to  my  trembling  ears1. 

O  fun,  again  that  thy  retreat  was  made, 

And  threw  my  follies  back  into  the  friendly  (bade  f 

But  who  are  they  that  bid  afflidlion  ceafe  ! — 

Redemption  and  forgivennefs,  heavenly  founds  I 
Behold  the  dove  that  brings  the  branch  of  peace, 
Behold  the  balm  that  heals  the  gaping  wounds- 
Vengeance  divine's  by  penitence  fuppreft— 
She  \  itmggles  with  the  angel,  conquers,  and  i» 
bleit. 

Yet  hold,  preemption,  nor  too  fondly  climb, 
And  thou  too  hold,  O  horrible  deipair  ! 

In  man  humility's  alone  fublime, 

Who  diffidently  hope-she's  Chrift'sown  care— 

0  all-iufficient  Lamb  !  in  death's  dread  hour 
Thy  merits  who  (hall  flight,   or  who  can  doubt 

thy  power  ? 

But  foal-rejoicing  health  again  return*, 
The  blood  meanders  gentle  in  each  vein, 

The  lamp  of  life  renew'd  with  vigour  burns, 
And  exil'd  reafon  takes  her  feat  again — 

Briik  leaps  the  heart,  the  mind's  at  large  oncer 
more, 

To  love,  to  praife,  to  biefs,  to  wonder  and  adore. 

The  virtuous  partner  of  my  nuptial  bands, 
Appear'd  a  widow  to  my  frantic  fight; 

My  little  prattlers  lifting  up  their  hands, 
Beckon  me  back  to  them,  to  life>  and  light; 

1  come,  ye  fporlel-  fweets !   I  come  again, 

Nor  have  your  tears  been  fliedy  nor  have  ye  knelt) 
in  vain. 

All  giory  to  th'  Eternal,  to  tht  Immenfe, 
All  glory  to  th*  Oinnifcient  and  Good, 

Whole  power's  uncircumfcnb'd,  whofe  love's  in* 

tenfe ; 
But  yet  whofe  juftice  ne'er  could  be  witbttood» 

*  Ifaiah,  chap,  xxxvi.i.  f  Gen.  viii.  ?• 

J  Gen.  wxii.  34,  25,  z6,  37,  38. 


POEMS. 


£acept  through  him— through  him,  who  ftands 

alone, 
Of  worth,  of  weight,  allow'd  for  all  mankind 

t'  atone ! 

He  rais'd  the  lame,  the  lepers  he  made  whole, 
He  fix'd  the  palfied  nerves  of  weak  decay, 

He  drove  out  Satan  from  the  tortur'd  foul, 
And  to  the  blind  gave  or  reftor'd  the  day,— 

l>Jay  more, — far  more  unequall'd  pangs  fuftain'd, 

Till  his  loft  fallen  flock  his  taintlefs  blood  regain'd. 

^My  feeble  feet  refus'd  my  body's  weight, 

Nor  would  my  eyes  admit  the  glorious  light, 

My  nerves  convuls'd,  fliook.  fearful  of  their  fate, 
My  mind  lay  open  to  the  powers  of  night. 

He,  pitying,  did  a  fecond  birth  beftow 

A  birth  of  joy— not  like  the  firft  of  tears  and 
woe. 

Ye  ftrengthen'd  feet,  forth  to  his  altar  move ; 
Quicken,  ye  new-ftrung  nerves,  th'  enraptur'd 

lyre; 
Ye  heav'n-directed  eyes',  o'erflow  with  love ; 

Glow,  glow,  my  foul,»with  pure  feraphic  fire; 
"iDeeds,  thoughts,  and  words,  no  more  his  mandates 

break, 
tut  to  his  endlefs  glory  work,  conceive,  and  fpeak. 

•  !  penitence,  to  virtue  near  allied, 

Thou  canft  new  joys  e'en  to  the  bleft  impart ; 
tThe  lift *n ing  angels  lay  their  harps  afide 

To  hear  the  mufic  of  thy  contrite  heart ; 
And  heav'n  itfelf  wears  a  more  radiant  face, 
"When  charity  prefents  thee  to  the  throne  of  grace. 

Chief  of  metallic  forms  is  regal  gold  ; 

Of  elements,  the  limpid  fount  that  flows ; 
<6ive  me,  'mongft  gems  the  brilliant  to  behold ; 

O'er  Flora's  flock  imperial  is  the  rofe : 
Above  all  birds  the  fov'reign  eagle  foars ;, 
And  monarch  of  the  field  the  lordly  lion  roars. 

"What  can  with  great  leviathan  compare, 

Who  takes  his  paftime  in  the  mighty  main  ? 
What,  like  the  fun,  fhines  through  the  realms  of 

air, 

And  gilds  and  glorifies  th'  ethereal  plain- 
Yet  what  are  thefe  to  man,  who  bears  the  fway ; 

For  all  was  made  for  him to  ferve  and  to  o- 

bcy. 

Thus  in  high  heaven  charity  is  great, 

Faith,  hope,  devotion,  hold  a  lower  place  « 

On  her  the  cherubs  and  theferaphs  wait, 
Her,  every  virtue  courts,  and  every  grace ; 

See  !  on  the  right,  clofe  by  th'  Almighty's  throne, 

In  him  fhe  fhines  confeft,  who  came  to  make  her 
known. 

Deep-rooted  in  my  heart  then  let  her  grow, 
That  for  the  paft  the  future  may  atone  ; 

That  1  may  act  what  thou  haft  giv'n  to  know, 
That  1  may  live  for  thee  and  thee  alone,  ^ 

And  juftify  thofe  fwcetelt  words  from  heav'n, 

*  That  he  ftall  love  thee  mdft  f  to  whom  thou'ft 

"  mult  forgiven. 


*  Find.  Qlvrnp.  I. 

f  Lu^t  TO. 41,  435  43« 


ON  TH*'  . 

ETERNITY  OF  THE  SUPREME  BEING, 

A    POETICAL   CSSAT. 

A  CLAUSE  OF  MR.  SEATON'S  WILL, 
Dated  Off.  8.  1738  ". 

I  GIVE  my  Kiflingbury  eftate  to  the  Unirerfity  of 
Cambridge  for  ever :  the  rents  of  which  ftall  be 
difpofed  of  yearly  by  the  vice-chancellor  for  the 
time  being,  as  he  the  vice-chancellor,  the  mafter 
of  Clare-Hall,  and  the  Greek  profeffor  for  the 
time  being,  or  any  two  of  them,  ftall  agree. 
Which  three  perfons  aforefaid  fhall  give  out  a 
fubject,  which  fubject  ftiall  for  the  firft  year  be 
one  or  other  of  the  perfections  or  attributes  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  and  fo  the  fucceeding  years,  till 
the  fubject  is  exhaufted;  and  afterwards  the  fub 
ject  Ihall  be  either  death,  judgment,  heaven,  hell, 
purity  of  heart,  &c.  or  whatever  elfe  may  be 
judged  by  the  vice-chancellor,  mafter  <rf  Clare- 
Hall,  and  Greek  profeffor,  to  be  moft  conducive 
to  the  honour  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  recom 
mendation  •(  virtue.  And  they  fliall  yearly  dif- 
pofe  of  the  rent  of  the  above  eftate  to  that  mafter 
of  arts,  whofe  poem  on  the  fubject  given  fhall  be 
beft  approved  by  them.  Which  poem  I  ordain  t» 
be  always  in  Englifh,  and  to  be  printed ;  the  ex- 
pence  of  which  ftall  be  deducted  out  of  the  pro 
duct  of  the  eftate,  and  ,the  refidue  given  at  a  re 
ward  for  the  compofer  of  the  poem,  »r  ode,  or 
copy  of  verfes. 

We  the  underwritten,  do  aflign  Mr.  Seaton's 
reward  to  C.  Smart,  M.  A.  for  his  poem  on  The 
Eternity  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  directed  the  faiii 
poem  to  be  printed,  according  to  the  tenor  of  the 
wilJ, 

EDM.  KEENE,  Vice-chancellor. 

J.  WILCOX,  Mafter  of  Clarc-halL. 


HAIL,  wond'rous  Being,  who  in  pow'r  fuprcme 
Exifts  from  evcrlafting,  whofe  great  name 
Deep  in  the  human  heart,  and  every  atom, 
The  air,  the  earth,  or  azure  main  contains, 
In  undecypher'd  characters  is  wrote — 
Incomprehenfible  !~-O  what  can  words, 
The  weak  interpreters  of  mortal  thoughts, 
Or  what  can  thoughts  (though  wild  of  wing  they 

rove 

Through  the  vaft  concave  of  th'  ethereal  round) 
If  to  the  heav'n  of  heavens  they'd  win  their  way 
Advent'rous,  like  the  birds  of  night  they're  loft, 
And  delug'd  in  the  flood  of  dazzling  day. 
May  then  the  youthful,  uninfpired  bard 
Prefume  to  hymn  th'  Eternal ;  may  he  foar 

*  Toil  claitfe  of  Mr.  Seatant  Will  it  inftrttd  ft 
the  beginning  of  each  eftbtj-  Fotmt,  im  the 

edition  of  Smart's  IVnrLt ,   but  it  aftir-Mardt  n*ittt* 
in  this  uUetiian,  tt  avoid  repetitlcn. 

5 


THE   WORKS   OF   SMART. 


Where  feraph,  and  where  cherubim  on  high 
Refound  th'  unceafing  plaudits,  and  with  them 
In  the  grand  chorus  mix  his  feeble  voice  ? 

He  may,  if  thou,  who  from  the  witlefs  babe 
Ordaineft  honour,  glory,  ftrength,  and  praife, 
Uplift  the  unpinion'd  mufe,  and  deign  t'  affift, 
Great  Poet  of  the  univerfe,  his  long. 

Before  this  earthly  planet  wound  her  courfe 
Round  light's  perennial  fountain,  before  light 
Herfelf  'gan  fhine,  and  at  th'  infpiring  word 
Shot  to  exiftence  in  a  blaze  of  day, 
Before  "  the  morning  ftars  together  fang" 
And  hail'd  thee  architect  of  countlefs  worlds, 
Thou  art — all-glorious,  all  beneficent, 
All  wifdom  and  omnipotence  thou  art. 

But  is  the  era  of  creation  fix'd 
At  when  thefe  worlds  began  ?  Could  .ought  retard 
Goodnefs,  that  knows  no  bounds,  from  blefling 

ever, 

Or  keep  th'  immenfe  Artificer  in  floth  ? 
Avaunt  the  duft-directed  crawling  thought, 
That  Puiffance  immeafurably  vaft, 
And  Bounty  inconceivable  could  reft 
Content,  exhaufted  with  one  week  of  action— 
No — in  th'  exertion  of  thy  righteous  pow'r, 
Ten  thoufand  times  more  active  than  the  fun, 
Thou  reign'd,  and  with  a  mighty  hand  compos'd 
Syftems  innumerable,  matchlefs  all, 
All  flamp'd  with  thine  uncounterfeited  feal. 

But  yet  (if  ftill  to  more  flupendous  heights 
The  mufe  unblam'd  her  aching  fenfe  may  ftrain) 
Perhaps  wrapt  up  in  contemplation  deep, 
The  beft  of  beings  on  the  nobleft  theme 
Might  ruminate  at  leifure,fcope  immenfe 
Th'  eternal  Pow'r  and  Godhead  to  explpre, 
And  with  itfelf  th'  omnifcient  mind  replete. 
This  were  enough  to  fill  the  boundlefs  All, 
This  were  a  Sabbath  worthy  tlje  Supreme ! 
Perhaps  enthron'd  amidft  a  choicer  few, 
Of  fp'rits  inferior,  he  might  greatly  plan 
The  two  prime  pillars  of  the  univerfe, 
Creation  and  redemption — and  a  while 
Paufe — with  the  grand  prefentments  of  glory. 

Perhaps — but  all's  conjecture  here  below, 
All  ignorance,  and  felf-plum'd  vanity — 
O  thou,  whofe  ways  to  wonder  at's  diftruft, 
Whom  to  defcribe's  prefumption  (all  we  can, — 
And  all  we  may — )  be  glorified,  be  prais'd. 

A  day  fhall  come  when  all  this  earth  fhall 

perifh, 

Nor  leave  behind  ev'n  Chaos ;  it  fhall  come 
When  all  the  armies  of  the  elements 
Shall  war  againft  themfelves,  and  mutual  rage 
To  make  perdition  triumph ;  it  fhall  come, 
When  the  capacious  atmofphere  above 
Shall  in  iulphureous  thunders  groan  and  die, 
And  vanifh  into  void ;  the  earth  beneath 
Shall  fever  to  the  centre,  and.devour 
Th'  enormous  blaze  of  the  definitive  flames. — 
Ye  rocks,  that  mock  the  raving  of  the  floods, 
And  proudly  frown  upon  th'  impatient  deep, 
Where  is  your  grandeur  now?  Ye  foaming  waves, 
That  all  along  th'  immenfe  Atlantic  roar, 
In  vain  ye  fwell;  will  a  few  drops  fuffice 
To  quench  the  unextinguifhable  fire? 
Ye  mountains,  on  whole  cloud-crown'd  tops  the 
cedars 


Are  leffen'd  into  fhrubs,  magnific  piles, 

That  prop  the  painted  chambers  of  the  heav'ns 

And  fix  the  earth  continual ;  Athos,  where  : 

Where  Tenerif 's  thy  ftatelinefs  to-day  ? 

What,  ./Etna,  are  thy  flames  to  thefe : — No  more 

Than  the  poor  glow-worm  to  the  golden  fun. 

Nor  fhall  the  verdant  valleys  then  remain 
Safe  in  their  meek  fubrr.iilion  ;  they  the  debt 
Of  nature  and  of  juftice  too  muft  pay. 
Yet  I  muft  weep  for  you,  ye  rival  fair, 
Arno  and  Andalufia ;  but  for  thee 
More  largely  and  with  filial  tears  muft  weep, 

0  Albion,  O  my  country;  thou  muft  join, 
In  vain  diffever'd  from  the  reft,  muft  join 
The  terrors  of  th'  inevitable  ruin. 

Nor  thou,  illuftrious  monarch  of  the  day ; 
Nor  thou,  fair  queen  of  night ;  nor  you,  ye  ftars, 
Though  million  leagues  and  million  ftill  remote, 
Shall  yet  furvive  that  day  :  Ye  muft  fubmit 
Sharers,  not  bright  fpe&ators  of  the  fcene. 

But  though  the  earth  fhall  to  the  centre  perifh, 
Nor  leave  behind  ev'n  Chaos ;  though  the  air 
With  all  the  elements  muft  pafs  away, 
Vain  as  an  idiot's  dream;  though  the  huge  rocks, 
That  brandifh  the  tall  cedars  on  their  tops, 
With  humbler  vales  muft  to  perdition  yield ; 
Thou  the  gilt  fun,  and  filver-treffed  moon 
With  all  her  bright  retinue,  muft  be  loft ; 
Yet  thou,  great  Father  of  the  world,  furviv'ft 
Eternal,  as  thou  wert :  Yet  ftill  furvives 
The  foul  of  man  immortal,  perfedl  now, 
And  candidate  for  unexpiring  joys. 

He  comes  !  he  comes !  the  awful  trump  I  hear ; 
The  flaming  fword's  intolerable  blaze 

1  fee ;  he  comes !  th'  archangel  from  above. 
"  Arife  ye  tenants  of  the  filent  grave, 

"  Awake  incorruptible  and  arife  5 

"  From  eaft  to  weft,  from  the  antarclic  pole 

"  To  regions  hyperborean,  all  ye  fons, 

"  Ye  fons  of  Adam,  and  ye  heirs  of  heav'n — 

"  Arife,  ye  tenants  of  the  filent  grave, 

"  Awake  incorruptible  and  arife." 

'Tis  then,  nor  fooner,  that  the  reftlefs  mind 
Shall  find  itfelf  at  home ;  and  like  the  ark 
Fix'd  on  the  mountain-top,  fuall  look  aloft 
O'er  the  vague  paffage  of  precarious  life  ; 
And  winds,  and  waves,and  rocks,and  tempeftspaft, 
Enjoy  the  everlafting  calm  of  heav'n  : 
'Tis  then,  nor  fooner,  that  the  deathlefs  foul 
Shall  juftly  know  its  nature  and  its  rife : 
'Tis  then-  the  human  tongue  new-tun'd  fhall  give 
Praifes'more  worthy  the  eternal  ear. 
Yet  what  we  can,  we  ought ; — and,  therefore,  thou, 
Purge  thou  my  heart,  Omnipotent  and  good  ! 
Purge  thou  my  heart  with  hyffop,  left  like  Cain 
I  offer  fruitlefs  facrifice,  with  gifts 
Offend,  and  not  propitiate  the  ador'd. 
Though  gratitude  were  blefs'd  with  all  the  pow'rs 
Her  burfting  heart  could  long  for,  though  the 

fwift, 

The  fiery-wing'd  imagination  foar'd 
Beyond  ambition's  wifh — yet  all  were  vain 
To  fpeak  him  as  he  is,  who  is  ineffable. 
Yet  ftill  let  reafon  through  the  eye  of  faith 
View  him  with  fearful  love;  let  truth  pronounce, 
And  adoration  on  her  bended  knee 
With  heav'n-dire&ed  hands  confefs  his  reign. 


P    O    E    M    S. 


And  let  th'  angelic,  archangelic  band, 
With  all  the  hofts  of  heav'n,  cherubic  forms, 
And  forms  feraphic,  with  their  filver  trumps 
And  golden  lyres  attend": — "  For  thou  art  holy, 
"  For  thou  art  one,  th'  Eternal,  who  alone 
"  EACUS  all  goodnefs,  and  tranfcends  all  praifc." 


IMMENSITY  OF  THE  SUPREME  BEING. 

A   POETICAL  EISAY. 

ONCE  more  I  dare  to  roufe  the  founding  firing, 
The  poet  of  my  God — Awake  my  glory, 
Awake  my  lute  and  harp— myfelf  fhall  wake, 
Soon  as  the  ilately  night-exploding  bird 
In  lively  lay  fings  welcome  to  the  dawn. 

Lift  ye  !  how  nature  with  ten  thoufand  tongues 
Begins  the  grand  thankfgiving,  Hail,  all  hail, 
Ye  tenants  of  the  foreft  and  the  field  ! 
My  fellow  fubje&s  of  th'  Eternal  King, 
I  gladly  join  your  mattins,  and  with  you 
Confefs  his  prefence,  and  report  his  praife. 

O  thou,  who  or  the  lambkin,  or  the  dove, 
When  offer'd  by  the  lowly,  meek,  and  poor, 
Preferr'ft  to  pride's  whole  hecatomb,  accept 
This  mean  effay,  nor  from  thy  treafure-houfe 
Of  glory  immenfe,  the  orphan's  might  exclude. 

What  though  th'  Almighty's  regal1  throne  be 

rais'd 

High  o'er  yon  azure  heav'n's  exalted  dome, 
By  mortal  eye  unkenn'd — where  eafl  nor  weft, 
Nor  fouth,  nor  bluft'ring  north  has  breath  to  blow ; 
Albeit  he  there  with  angels  and  with  faints 
Holds  conference,  and  to  his  radiant  hoft 
Ev'n  face  to  face  ftand  vifibly  confcft  : 
Yet  know  that  nor  in  prefence  or  in  pow'r 
Shines  he  lefs  perfect:  here ;  'tis  man's  dim  eye 
That  makes  th'  obfcurity.    He  is  the  fame, 
Alike  in  all  his  univerfe  the  fame. 

Whether  the  mind  along  the  fpangled  fky 
Meafure  her  pathlefs  walk,  ftudious  to  view 
Thy  works  of  vafter  fabric,  where  the  planets 
Weave  their  harmonious  rounds,  their  march  di- 

reding 

Still  faithful,  ftill  inconftant  to  the  fun  ; 
Or  where  the  comet  through  fpace  infinite 
(Though  whirling  worlds  oppofe,  and  globes  of 

fire) 

Darts,  like  a  javelin,  to  his  deftin'd  goal. 
Or  where  in  heav'n  above  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns 
Burn  brighter  funs,  and  goodlier  planets  roll 
With  fatellites  more  glorious — Thou  art  there. 

Or  whether  on  the  ocean's  boift'rous  back 
Thou  ride  triumphant,  and  with  outftretch'd  arm 
Curb  the  wild  winds,  and  difcipline  the  billows, 
The  fuppliant  failor  finds  thee  there,  his  chief, 
His  only  help— When  thou  rebuk'ft  the  ftorm — 
It  ceafes — and  the  veffel  gently  glides 
Along  the  glafiy  level  of  the  calm. 

Oh !  could  1  fearch  the  bpfom  of  the  fea, 
Down  the  great  depth  defcending;  there  thy  works 
Would  alfo  fpeak  thy  refidence ;  and  there 
Would  I  thy  fervant,  like  the  ftill  profound, 
Aftonifh'd  into  filence  mufe  thy  praife  ! 
Behold !  behold  !  th'  implanted  garden  round 
Of  vegetable  coral,  fea-flow'rs  gay,  [bottom 

And  flirubs,  wA'.h  amber,  froju  the  pearPyav'd 


Rife  nchly  varied,  where  the  finny  race 
In  blithe  fecurity  their  gambols  play : 
While  high  above  their  heads  leviathan, 
The  terror  and  the  glory  of  the  main, 
His  paftime  takes  with  tranfport,  proud  to  fee 
The  ocean's  vaft  dominion  all  his  own. 

Hence  through  the  genial  bowels  of  the  earth 
Eafy  may  fancy  pafs ;  till  at  thy  mines, 
Gani,  or  Raolconda,  flic  arrive, 
And  from  the  adamant's  imperial  blaze 
For  weak  ideas  of  her  Maker's  glory. 
Next  to  Pegu  or  Ceylon  let  me  rove, 
Where  the  rich  ruby  (deem'd  by  fages  old 
Of  fovereign  virtue)  fparklesev'n  like  Sirim, 
And  blufhes  into  flames.   Thence  will  1  go 
To  undermine  the  treafure-tertile  womb 
Of  the  huge  Pyrenean,  to  detect 
The  agate  and  the  deep-entrenched  gem 
Of  kindred  jaiper — Nature  in  them  both 
Delights  to  phy  the  mimic  on  herfelf ; 
And  in  their  veins  (he  ofi  pourtrays  the  forms 
Of  leaping  hills,  of  trees  erect,  and  ftrcams 
Now  ftealing  foftly  on,  now  thund'ring  down 
In  defperate  cafcade,  with  ffow'rs  and  beads, 
And  all  the  living  landflcip  of  the  vale. 
In  vain  thy  pencil,  Chudio,  or  Pauflin, 
Or  thine,  immortal  Guide,  would  effay 
Such  (kill  to  imitate — It  is  the  hand 
Of  God  himfelf— for  God  himfelf  is  there. 

Hence  with  th'  afcendicg  fprings  let  me  advance, 


That  dares  to  call  th'  horizon  all  her  own. 
Behold  the  forcft,  and  th'  cxpaiifive  verdure 
Of  yonder  level  lawn,  whofe  fmocth  fhorn  loJ 
No  object  interrupts  unlefs  the  oak 
His  lordly  Ju-ad  iiprears,  and  branching  arms 
Extends — Behold  in  regal  folicude, 
And  paftoral  magnificence  he  ftunds. 
So  fiinple  !  and  fo  great !  the  under-wood 
Of  meaner  rank,  an  awful  diftance  keep. 
Yet  thou  art  there,  and  God  himfelf  is  there 
Ev'n  in  the  bufti  (though  not  as  when  to  Mofes) 
He  fhone  in  burning  majefty  reveal  d 
Nathlefs  confpicuous  in  the  linnet's  throat 
Is  his  unbounded  goodnefs— Thee  her  Maker, 
Thee  her  Prefcrver  chaunts  fhe  in  her  fong ; 
While  all  the  emulative  vocal  tribe 
The  grateful  lellen  learn — no  other  voice 
Is  heard,  no  other  found— for  in  attention 
Buried,  ev'n  babbling  echo  holds  her  peace. 
Now  from  the  plains,  where  th'  unbounded 

profpect 

Gives  liberty  her  utmoft  fcope  to  range, 
Turn  we  to  yon  enclofurcs,  where  appears 
Chequer'd  variety  in  all  her  forms, 
Which  the  vague  mind  attract  and  ftill  fufpend 
With  fweet  perplexity.   What  are  yon  tow'rs, 
The  work  of  lab'ring  man  and  clumfy  art, 
Seen  with  the  ring-dove's  neft— on  that  tall  beech 
Her  penfile  houfe  the  feathcr'd  artift  builds— 
The  rocking  winds  moleft  her  not ;  for  fee. 
With  fuch  due  poize  the  wond'rous  fabric's  hung, 
That,  like  the  compafs  in  the  bark,  it  keeps 
True  to  itfelf,  and  ftedfaft  ev'n  in  ftorms. 
Thou  idiot  that  aflsrt'ft  there  is  no  God, 


•I4«  THE   WORKS 

View,  and  be  dumb  for  ever— 
Go  bid  Vitnivius  or  Palladio  yield 
The  bee  his  manfion,  or  the  ant  her  cave- 
To  call  Correggio,  or  let  Titian  come 
To  paint  the  hawthorn's  bloom,  or  teach  the 

cherry 

To  blufh  with  juft  vermillion — hence  away— 
Hence  ye  profane !  for  God  himfelf  is  here. 
Vain  were  th'  attempt,  and  impious  to  trace 
Through  all  his  works  th'  Artificer  divine — 
And  though  nor  fhinmg  fun,  nor  twinkling  ftar, 
Bedeck'd  the  crimfon  curtains  of  the  flcy ; 
Though  neither  vegetable,  beaft,  nor  bird, 
Were  extant  on  the  furface  of  this  ball, 
Nor  hjrking  gem  beneath ;  though  the  great  fea 
Slept  in  profound  ftagnation,  and  the  air 
Had  left  no  thunder  to  pronounce  its  Maker; 
Yet  man  at  home,  within  himfelf,  might  find 
The  Deity  immenfe,  and  in  that  frame 
So  fearfully,  fo  wonderfully  made, 
Lee  and  adore  his  providence  and  pow'r — 
1  fee,  and  I  adore — O  God  moft  bounteous  ! 
O  Infinite  of  Goodnefs  and  of  Glory  ! 
The  knee  that  thou  haftfhap'd,  fhall  bend  tothee, 
The  tongue  which  thou  haft  tun'd,  fhall  chaunt 

thy  praife, 

And  thy  own  image,  the  immortal  foul, 
Shall  confecrate  herfelf  to  thee  for  ever. 


OMNISCIENCE  OF  THE  SUPREME  BEING, 

A  POETICAL  ESSAY. 

Addrejjed  to  the  Mojl  Re-verend  his  Grace  the  Lord 
Arcbbtftop  of  Canterbury. 

ARISE,  divine  Urania,  with  new  {trains 
To  hymn  thy  God,  and  thou,  immortal  fame, 
Arile,  and  blow  thy  cverlafting  trump. 
All  glory  to  th'  Omnifcient,  and  praife, 
And  pow'r,  and  domination  in  the  height ! 
And  thou,  cherubic  gratitude,  whofe  voice 
To  pious  ears  founds  filverly  fo  fweet, 
Come  with  thy  precious  incenfe,  bring  thy  gifts, 
And  with  thy  choiceft  ftores  the  altar  crown. 
Thou  too,  my  heart,  when  he,  and  he  alone, 
\Vho'  all  things  knows,  can  know,  witk  love  re 
plete, 

Regenerate,  and  pure,  pour  all  thyfelf 
A  living  facrifice  before  his  throne : 
And  may  th'  eternal,  high  myfterious  tree. 
That  in  the  centre  of  the  arched  heav'ns 
Bears  the   rich   fruit  of  knowledge,   with  fome 

branch 

Stoop  to  my  humble  reach,  and  blefs  my  toil ! 
When  in  my  mother's  womb  concc'al'd  1  lay 
A  fcnfelefs  embryo,  then  my  foul  thou  knew'it, 
Kriew'ft  all  her  future  workings,  every  thought, 
And  every  faint  idea  yet  unform'd. 
When  up  the  imperceptible  afccnt 
Of  growing  years,  led  by  thy  hand,  I  rofe, 
Perception's  gradual  light,  that  ever  dawns 
Infenfibly  to-day,  thou  didft  vouchfafe, 
And  teach  me  by  that  reafon  thou  infpir'dft, 
That  what  of  knowledge  in  my  mind  was  low, 
Imperfect,  incorrect— in  .thee  is  wond'rous, 


OF  SMART. 

Uncircumfcrib'd,  unfearchably  profound, 
And  eftimable  folely  by  itfelf. 

What  is  that  fecret  pow'r,  that  guides  the-. 

brutes, 

Which  ignorance  calls  inftinct  ?  'Tis  from  thee, 
It  is  the  operation  of  thine  hands, 
tmmediate  inftantaneous ;  'tis  thy  wifdom, 
That   glorious    ihines   tranfparent   through    thy 

works. 

Who  taught  the  pie,  or  who  forewarn'd  the  jay 
To  fhun  the  deadly  nightfhade  ?  though  the  cherry-. 
Boafts  not  a  gloflier  hue,  nor  does  the  plumb 
Lure  with  more  feeming  fweets  the  amorous  eye, 
Yet  will  not  the  fagacious  birds,  decoy'd 
By  fair  appearance,  touch  the  noxious  fruit. 
They  know  to  tafte  is  fatal,  whence  alarm'd 
Swift  on  the  winnowing  winds  they  work  their- 

way. 

Go  to,  proud  reas'ner,  philofophic  man, 
Haft  thou  fuch  prudence,  thou  fuch  knowledge  i 

—No. 

Full  many  a  race  has  fall'n  into  the  fliare 
Of  meretricious  looks,  of  pleafing  furface, 
And  6ft  in  deiert  ifles  the  famifli'd  pilgrim 
By  forms  of  fruit,  and  lufcious  tafte  beguil'd, 
Like  his  forefather  Adam,  eats  and  dies. 
For  why  ?  his  wifdom  on  the  leaden  feet 
Of  flow  experience,  dully  tedious,  creeps, 
And  comes,  like  vengeance,  after  long  delay. 

The  venerable  fage,  that  nightly  trims 
The  learned  lamp,  t'  inveftigate  the  pow'r* 
Of  plants  medicinal,  the  earth,  the  air, 
And  the  dark  regions  of  the  foffil  world, 
Grows  old  in  following  what  he  ne'er  fhall  fini'J 
Studious  in  vain !  till  haply,  at  the  laft 
He  fpies  a  mift,  then  fhapes  it  into  mountains, 
And  bafelefs  iabric  from  conjecture  builds. 
While  the  domeftic  animal,  that  guards 
At  midnight  hours  his  threfhold,  if  opprefs'd 
By  fudden  iicknefs,  at  his  matter's  feet 
Begs  not  that  aid  his  fervices  might  claim, 
But  is  his  own  phyfician,  knows  the  cafe, 
And  from  th'  emetic  herbage  works  his  cure. 
Hark  from  afar  the  *  feather'd  matron  fcreams^ 
And  all  her  brood  alarms,  the  docile  crew 
Accept  the  fjgrial  one  and  all,  expert 
In  th'  art  of  nature  and  unlearn'd  deceit ; 
Along  the  fed,  in  counterfeited  death, 
Mute,  motionlefs  they  lie  ;  full  well  appriz'd 
That  the  rapacious  adverfary's  near. 
But  who  inform'd  her  of  th'  approaching  danger, 
Who  taught  the  cautious  mother,  that  the  hawk 
Was  hatch'd  her  foe,  and  liv'd  by  her  deftruction  ? 
Her  own  prophetic  foul  is  active  in  her, 
And  more  than  human  providence  her  guard. 

When  Philomela,  ere  the  cold  domain 
Of  crippled  winter  'gins  t*  advance,  prepares 
Her  annual  flight,  and  in  fome  poplar  fhade 
Takes  her  melodious  leave,  who  then's  her  pilot  ? 
Who  points  her  paffage  through  the  pathlefs  void 
To  realms  from  us  remote,  to  us  unknown  ? 
Her  fcience  is  the  fcience  of  her  God. 
Not  the  magnetic  index  to  the  north 
E'er  afcertainsher.courfe,  nor  buoy,  nor  beacon; 
She,  heav'n-taught  voyager,  that  fails  in  air, 

*   Tbe  Hen  Turlry. 


POEMS. 


Courts  nor  coy  weft  nor  eeft,  but  inftant  knows 
What  *  Newton,  or  not  fought,  or  fought  in  vain. 

Illuftriousname,  irrefragable  proof 
Of  man's  vaft  genius,  and  the  foaring  foul ! 
Yet  what  wert  thou  to  him,  who  knew  his  works, 
Before  creation  form'd  them,  long  before 
He  meafur'd  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand 
Th'  exulting  ocean,  and  the  highefl.  heav'ns 
He  comprehended  with  a  fpan,  and  weigh'd 
The  mighty  mountains  in  his  golden  fcales  : 
Who  (hone  fupreme  :  who  was  himfelf  the  light, 
£re  yet  refradHon  learn'd  her  flcill  to  paint, 
And  bend  athwart  the  clouds  her  beauteous  bow. 

When  knowledge  at  her  father's  dread  com 
mand 

Refign'd  to  Ifrael's  king  her  golden  key, 
Oh  to  have  join'd  die  frequent  auditors 
In  wonder  and  delight,  that  whilom  heard 
Great  Solomon  defcanting  on  the  brutes ! 
Oh  how  fublimely  glorious  to  apply 
To  God's  own  honour,  and  good  will  to  man, 
That  wifdom  he  alone  of  men  poflefs'd 
In  plenitude  fo  rich,  and  kope  fo  rare  ! 
How  did  he  roufe  the  pamper'd  filken  fons 
Of  bloated  eafe,  by  placing  to  their  view 
The  fage  induftrious  ant,  the  -wifeft  infefi, 
And  beft  economift  of  all  the  field ! 
Though  flie  prefumes  not  by  the  folar  orb 
To  meafure  times  and  feafons,  nor  confults 
Chaldean  calculations,  for  a  guide ; 
Yet  confcious  that  December's  on  the  march 
Pointing  with  icy  hand  to  want  and  woe, 
She  waits  his  dire  approach,  and  undifmay'd         > 
Receives  him  as  a  welcome  gueft,  prepar'd 
Againft  the  churlilh  winter's  fiercefl  blow, 
for  when,  as  yet  the  favourable  fun 
Gives  to  the  genial  earth  th'  enlivening  ray, 
JJot  the  poor  fuffering  flave,  that  hourly  toils 
To  rive  the  groaning  earth  for  ill-fought,  gold, 
Endures  fuch  trouble,  fuch  fatigue,  as  flie ; 
"While  all  her  fubterraneous  avenues, 
And  ftorm  proof  cells,  with  management  mod 

meet 

And  unexampled  houfewifery,  fhe  forms, 
Then  to  the  field  foe  hies,  and  on  her  back, 
Burden  immenfe  !  fhe  bears  the  cumbrous  corn. 
Then  majiy  a  weary  ftep,  and  many  a  (train, 
And  many  a  grievous  groan  fubdued,  at  length 
Up  the  huge  hill  fhe  hardly  heaves  it  home. 
Nor  refts  {he  here  her  providence,  but  nips 
With  fubtle  tooth  the  grain,  left  &om  her  garner 
In  mifchievous  fertility  it  fteal, 
And  back  to  day-light  vegetate  its  way, 
Go  to  the  ant,  thou  fluggard,  learn  to  live, 
And  by  her  wary  ways  reform  thine  own. 
But,  if  thy  deaden'd  fenfe,  and  liitlefs  thought 
More  glaring  evidence  demand;  behold, 
Where  yon  pellucid  populous  hive  prefente 
A  yet  uncopicd  model  to  the  worlo ! 
There  Machiavel  in  the  reflecting  glafs 
2Way  read  himfelf  a  fool.    The  chemift  there 
May  with  aftonifhment  invidious  view 
His  toils  outdone  by  each  plebeian  bee, 
Who,  at  the  royal  mandate,  on  the  wing 
from  various  herbs  and  from  difcordant  flow'rs 
A  perfe&  harmony  of  fweetscompounds. 

*  Ibt  Longitude, 


Avaunt  conceit,  ambition  take  thy  flight 
Back  to  the  prince  of  vanity  and  air ! 
Oh  'tis  a  thought  of  energy  moft  piercing, 
Form'd  to  make  pride  grow  humble  ;  form'd  t» 

force 

Its  weight  on  the  reluctant  mind,  and  give  her 
A  true  but  irkfome  image  of  herfelf. 
Woful  viciffitude !  when  man,  fall'n  man, 
Who  firft  from  heav'n.from  gracious  God  himfelf, 
Learn'd  knowledge  of  the  brutes,  muft  know  bf 

brutes 

Inftrudted  and  reproach'd,  the  fcale  of  being ; 
By  flow  degrees  from  lowly  fteps  afccnds, 
And  trac'd  Omnifcience  upwards  to  its  fpring  ! 
Yet  murmur  not,  but  praife — for  though  we  ftand 
Of  many  a  godlike  privilege  amerc'd 
By  Aclam's  dire  tranfgreffion,  though  no  more 
Is  Paradife  our  home,  but  o'er  the  portal 
Hangs  in  teirific  pomp  the  burning  blade ; 
Still  with  ten  thoufand  beauties  blooms  the  earth 
With  pleafures  populous,  and  with  riches  crown'd 
Still  is  their  fcope  for  wonder  and  for  love 
Ev'n  to  their  laft  exertion — fliowr's  of  bkfiinjs 
Far  more  than  human  virtue  can  defervc, 
Or  hope  expedl,  or  gratitude  return. 
Then,  O  ye  people,  O  ye  fons  of  men, 
Whatever  be  the  colour  of  your  lives, 
Whatever  portion  of  itfelf  his  wifdom 
Shall  deign  t'  allow,  ftill  patiently  abide, 
And  praife  him  more  and  more ;  nor  ccafe  t« 

chant 

All  glory  to  th'  Omniscient,  and  praise, 
And  pow'r,  and  domination  in  the  height ! 
And  thou,  chenibic  gratitude,  whofe  voice 
To  pious  ears  founds  filverly  fo  fweet, 
Come  with  .thy  precious  incenfe,  bring  thy  gifts, 
And  with  :the  choiceft  ftores  the  altar  crown. 


A    POETICAL    ESSAY. 

"TREMBLE,  thou  earth !  the  anointed  poet  faidj 
*'  At  God's  bright  prefence,  tremble,  all  yemoun- 

"  tains, 

"  And  all  ye  hillocks  on  the  furface  bound." 
Then  once  again,  ye  glorious  thunders  roll, 
The  mufe  with  tranfport  hears  ye,  once  again  ' 
Convulfe  the  folid  continent,  and  (hake, 
Grand  mufic  of  Omnipotence,  the  ifles. 
'Tis  thy  terrific  voice ;  thou  God  of  power, 
"Pis  thy  terrific  voice  ;  all  nature  hears  it 
Aw  aken'd  and  alarm'd ;  flic  feels  its  force, 
In  every  fpring  fte  feels  it,  every  wheel, 
And  every  movement  of  her  vaft  machine. 
Behold  !  quakes  Appenine,  behold  !  recoils 
Athos,  and  all  the  hoary-headed  Aips 
Leap  from  their  bafes  at  the  godlike  found. 
But  what  is  this,  celeftial  though  the  note, 
And  proclamation  of  the  reign  fupreme, 
Compar'd  with  fuch  as,  for  a  mortal  ear 
Too  great,  amaze  the  incorporeal  worlds  ? 
Shou'd  ocean  to  his  congregated  waves 
Call  in  .each  river,  cataract,  and  lake, 
And  with  the  wat'ry  world  down  a  huge  rock 
Fall  headlong  in  one  horrible  calcadc, 
'Twere  but  the  echo  of  the  parting  breeze, 


THE   WORKS    OF   SMART. 


When  zephyr  faints  upon  the  lily's  breaft, 
Twere  but  the  ceafing  of  fome  inftrument, 
When  the  laft  ling'ring  undulation 
Dies  on  the  doubting  ear,  if  nam'd  with  founds 
So  mighty  !  fo  ilupendous  !  fo  divine  ! 

But  not  alone  in  the  aerial  vault 
Does  he  the  dread  theocracy  maintain ; 
For  oft,  enrag'd  with  his  inteftine  thunders, 
He  harrows  up  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
And  {hocks  the  central  magnet. — Cities  then 
Totter  on  their  foundations,  {lately  columns, 
Magnific  walls,  and  heav'n-afiaulting  fpires. 
What  though  in  haughty  eminence  erect 
Stands  the  ftrong  citadel,  and  frowns  defiance 
On  adverfe  hofts,  though  many  a  baftion  jut 
Forth  from  the  ramparts  elevated  mound, 
Vain  the  poor  providence  of  human  heart, 
And  mortal  ftrength  how  vain !    while  under 
neath 

Triumphs  his  mining  vengeance  in  th'  uproar 
Of  fhatter'd  towers,  riven  rocks,  and  mountains, 
With  clamour  inconceivable  uptorn. 
And  hurl'd  adown  th'  abyfs.     Sulphureous  py 
rites 

Burfting  abrupt  from  darknefs  into  day, 
With  din  outrageous  and  deflructive  ire 
Augment  the  hideous  tumuk,  while  it  wounds 
Th'  afflicted  ear,  and  terrifies  the  'eye,     ' 
And  rends  the  heart  in  twain.     'Twice  have  we 

felt, 

Within  Augufta's  walls,  twice  have  we  felt 
Thy  threaten'd  indignation,  but  ev'n  thou, 
Incens'd  Omnipotent,  are  gracious  ever  : 
Thy  goodnefs  infinite  but  mildly  warn'd  us 
With  mercy-blended  wrath;  O  fpare  us  ftill, 
Nor  fend  more  dire  conviction  :  we  confefs 
That  thou  art  he,  th'  Almighty  :  we  believe, 
For  at  thy  righteous  power  whole  fyflems  quake, 
For  at  thy  nod  tremble  ten  thoufand  worlds. 

Hark !  on  the  winged  whirlwind's  rapid  rage, 
Which  is  and  is  not  in  a  moment — hark  ! 
On  th'  hurricane's  tempeftuous  fweep  he  rides 
Invincible,  and  oaks  and  pines  and  cedars 
And  forefts  are  no  more.     For  conflict  dreadful ! 
The  weft  encounters  caft,  and  Notus  meets 
In  his  career  the  Hyperborean  blaft. 
The  lordly  lions  fhudd'ring  feek  their  dens, 
And  fly  like  tim'rous  deer ;  the  king  of  birds, 
Who  dar'd  the  folar  ray,  is  weak  of  wing, 
And  faints  and  falls  and  dies ; — while  he  fupreme 
Stands  ftedfaft  in  the  centre  of  the  florm. 

Wherefore,  ye  objects  terrible  and  great, 
Ye    thunders   earthquakes,    and   ye    fire-fraught 

wombs 

Of  fell  volcanos,  whirlwinds,  hurricanes, 
And  boiling  billows  hail !  in  chorus  join 
To  celebrate  and  magnify  your  Maker, 
Who  yet  in  works  of  a  minuter  mould 
Is  not  lefs  manifeft,  is  not  lefs  mighty. 

Survey  the  magnet's  fympathetic  love, 
That  woos  the  yielding  needle  ;  contemplate 
Th'  attractive  amber's  power,  invifible 
Ev'n  to  the  mental  eye ;  or  when  the  blow 
Sent  from  th'  electric  fphere  affaults  thy  frame, 
Show  me  the  hand,  that  dealt  it !— baffled  here 
By  his  omnipotence,  philoibphy 
Slowly  her  thoughts  inadequate  revolves, 


And  ftands,  with  all  his  circling  wonders  round 

her, 

Like  heavy  Saturn  in  th'  ethereal  fpace 
Begirt  with  an  inexplicable  ring. 

If  fuch  the  operations  of  his  power, 
Which  at  all  feafons  and  in  ev'ry  place 
(Rul'd  by  eftablifti'd  laws  and  current  nature) 
Arreft  th'  attention  !  who  ?  O  who  {hall  tell 
His  acts  miraculous,  when  his  own  decrees 
Repeals  he,  or  fufpends,  when  by  the  hand 
Of  Mofes  or  of  Jofhua,  or  the  mouths 
Of  his  prophetic  feers,  fuch  deeds  he  wrought, 
Before  th'  aftonifh'd  fun's  all-feeing  eye, 
That  faith  was  fcarce  a  virtue.     Need  I  fing 
The  fate  of  Pharoah  and  his  numerous  band 
Loft  in  the  reflux  of  the  wat'ry  walls, 
That  melted  to  their  fluid  flate  again  ? 
Need  1  recount  how  Samfon's  warlike  arm 
With  more  than  mortal  nerves  was  ftrung  t'  o'er. 

throw 

Idolatrous  Philiftia  *  mail  I  tell 
How  David  triumph'd,  and  what  Job  fuflain'd  ? 
— But,  O  fupreme,  unutterable  mercy ! 
O  love  unequall'd,  myftery  immenfe, 
Which  angels  long  t'unfold  !  'tis  man's  redemp 
tion 

That   crowns   thy   glory,    and   thy  povv'r  con 
firms, 

Confirms  the  great,  th'  uncontroverted  claim. 
When  from  the  virgin's  unpolluted  womb, 
Shone  forth  the  Sun  of  Righteoufnefs  revcal'd 
And  on  benighted  reafon  pour'd  the  day  ; 
*.et  there  be  peace  (he  faid)  and  all  was  calm 
Amongft  the  warring  world — calm  as  the  fea, 
When  peace:    be  ftill,   ye  boifterous  winds,  hft 

cry'd, 
And   not    a   breath   was  blown,    nor    murmur 

heard. 

His  was  a  life  of  miracles  and  might, 
And  charity  and  love,  ere  yet  he  tafte 
The  bitter  draught  of  death,  ere  yet  he  rife 
Victorious  o'er  the  univerfal  foe, 
And  death,  and  fin,  and  hell  in  triumph  lead. 
His  by  the  right  of  conqueft  is  mankind, 
And  in  fweet  fervitude  and  golden  bonds 
Were  ty'd  to  him  for  ever. — O  how  eafy 
Is  his  ungalling  yoke,  and  all  his  burdens 
'Tis  ecftafy  to  bear  !  him  blefled  Shepherd 
His  flocks  {hall  follow  through  the  maze  of  life, 
And    {hades   that   tend    to  day-fpring  from  OR 

high ; 

And  as  the  radiant  rofes,  ever  fading, 
In  fuller  foliage  and  more  fragrant  breath 
Revive  in  fmiling  fpring,  fo  mall  it  fare 
With  thofe  that  love  him — for  fweet  is  their  fa* 

vour, 

And  all  eternity  mall  be  their  fpring. 
Then  mail  the  gates  and  everlafting  doors, 
At  which  the  King  of  glory  enters  in, 
Be    to    the    faints  unbarr'd :    and  there,  where 

pleafure 

Boafts  an  undying  bloom,  where  dubious  hope 
Is  certainty,  and  grief-attended  love 
Is  freed  from  paffion-— there  we'll  celebrate 
With  worthier  numbers,  him,  who  is,  and 
And  in  immortal  prowefs  King  of  kings 
Shall  be  the  Monarch  of  all  worlds  for  ever. 


POEMS. 


143 


OH  THE 
GOODNESS  OF  THE  SUPREME  BEING. 

A    POETICAL  ESSAY. 

Addre/eeL  to  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of 

Darlington. 

ORPHEUS,  for  *  fo  the  Gentiles  call'cl  thy  name, 
ISrael's  Iweet  Pfalmift,  who  alone  could  wake 
Th"  inanimate  to  motion  ;  who  alone 
The  joyful  hillocks,  the  applauding  rocks, 
And  floods  with  mufical  perfuafion  drew : 
Thou  who  to  hail  and  fnow  gav'ft  voice  and  found, 
And  mad'ft  the  mute  melodious ! — greater  yet 
Was  thydivineftfkill,  and  rul'd  o'er  more 
Than  art  or  nature  ;  for  thy  tuneful  touch 
Drove  trembling  Satan  from  the  heart  of  Saul, 
And  quell'd  the  evil  angel :-— in  this  bread 
•  Some  portion  of  thy  genuine  fpirit  breathe,^ 
And  lift  me  from  myfelf,  each  thought  impure 
Banifh  ;  each  low  idea  raife,  refine, 
Enlarge,  and  fandtify  ; — fo  mall  the  mufe 
Above  the  (tars  afpire,  and  aim  to  praife 
Her  God  on  earth,  as  he  is  prais'd  in  heaven. 

Immenfe  Creator  !  whofe  all-powerful  hand 
Fram'd  univerfal  being,  and  whofe  eye 
Saw  like  thyfelf,  that  all  things  form 'd  were  good; 
Where  fliall  the  tim'rous  bard  thy  praife  begin, 
Where  end  the  pureft  facrifice  of  fong, 
And  juft  thankfgiving  ? — The   thought-kindling 

light, 

Thy  prime  production,  darts  upon  my  mind 
Its  vivifying  beams,  my  heart  illumines, 
And  fills  my  foul  with  gratitude  and  thee. 
Hail  to  the  cheerful  rays  of  ruddy  morn, 
That  paint  the  ftreaky  eaft,  and  blithfome  roufe 
The  birds,  the  cattle,  and  mankind  from  reft  ! 
Hail  to  the  freflmefs  of  the  early  breeze, 
And  Iris  dancing  on  the  new-fall'n  dew  ! 
Without  the  aid  of  yonder  golden  globe, 
Loft  were  the  garnet's  luftre,  ioft  the  lily, 
The  tulip,  and  auricula's  fpotted  pride ; 
Loft  were  the  peacock's  plumage,  to  the  fight 
So  pleafing  in  its  pomp  and  gloffy  glow. 
O  thrice  illuftrious !  were  it  not  for  thee 
Thofe  panfies,  that  reclining  from  the  bank, 
View  through  th'  immaculate,  pellucid  ftream 
Their  portraiture  in  the  inverted  heaven, 
Might  as  well  change  their  triple  boaft,  the  white, 
The  purple,  and  the  gold,  that  far  outvie 
The  eaftern  monarch's  garb,  cv'n  with  the  dock, 
Ev'n  with  the  baneful  hemlock's  irkfome  green. 
Without  thy  aid,  without  thy  gladfome  beams 
The  tribes  of  woodland  warblers  would  remain 
Mute  on  the  bending  branches,  nor  recite 
The  praife  of  him,  who,  e'er  he  form'd  their  lord, 
Their  voices  tun'd  to  tranfport,  wing'd  their  flight, 
And  bade  them  call  for  nurture,  and  receive  ; 
And  lo  !  they  call ;  the  blackbird  and  the  thrufli, 
The  woodlark,  and  the  redbreaft  jointly  call ; 
He  hears  and  feeds  their  feather'd  families, 
He  feeds  his  fweet  muficians, — nor  neglects 
Th'  invoking  ravens  in  the  greenwood  wide; 
And  through  their  throats  coarfe  ruttling  hurt 
the  ear, 


*  See  this  conje£}ure.jlron$ly Supported  by  Dela- 
,  in  his  Life  of  David, 


They  mean  it  all  for  mufic,  thanks  and  praife 
They  mean,  and  leave  ingratitude  to  man  ;~ 
But  not  to  all, — for  hark  '.  the  organs  blow 
Their  fwelling  notes  round  the  cathedral's  dome, 
And  grace  th'  harmonious  choir,  celeftial  feaft 
To  pious  ears,  and  med'cine  of  the  mind  ; 
The  thrilling  trebles  of  the  manly  bafe 
Join  in  accordance  meet,  and  with  one  voice 
All  to  the  facred  fubjedt  fuit  their  fong : 
While  in  each  breaft  fweet  melancholy  reigns 
Angelically  penfive,  till  the  joy 
Improves  and  purifies ; — the  folemn  fcene 
The  fun  through  ftoried  panes  furveys  with  awe, 
And  baihfully  withholds  each  bolder  beam. 
Here,  as  her  home,  from  morn  to  eve  frequents 
The  chernb  gratitude  ; — behold  her  eyes '. 
With  love  and  gladnefs  weepingly  they  ftied 
Ecftatic  fmiles ;  the  incenfe,  that  her  hands 
Uprear,  is  fweeter  than  the  breath  of  May 
Caught  from  the  nectarine's  bloflbm,  and  her  voice 
Is  more  than  voice  can  tell ;  to  him  (he  fings, 
To  him  who  feeds,  who  clothes,  and  who  adorns, 
Who  made  and  who  preferves,  whatever  dwells 
In  air,  in  ftedfaft  earth,  or  fickle  fea. 
O  he  is  good,  he  is  immenfely  good ! 
Who  all  things  form'd,  and  form'd  them  all  for 

man ; 

Who  mark'd  the  ciimates,  varied  every  zone, 
Difpenfing  all  his  blefllngs  for  the  beft, 
In  order  and  in  beauty  : — raife,  attend, 
Atteft,  and  praife,  ye  quarters  of  the  world  ! 
Bow  down,  ye  elephants,  fubrniflive  bow 
To  him,  who  made  the  mite  ;  though  Afia's  pride, 
Ye  carry  armies  on  your  tow'r-crown'd  backs, 
And  grace  the  turban'd  tyrants,  bow  to  him 
Who  is  as  great,  as  perfect,  and  as  good 
In  his  lefs-ftriking  wonders,  till  at  length 
The  eye's  at  fault  and  feeks  th'  affifting  glafs. 
Approach  and  bring  from  Araby  the  bleft 
The  fragrant  cadi  a,  frankincenfe  and  myrrh, 
And  meekly  kneeling  at  the  altar's  foot, 
Lay  all  the  tributary  incenfe  down. 
Stoop,  fable  Africa,  with  rev'rence  ftoop, 
And  from  thy  brow  take  off  the  painted  plume ; 
With  golden  ingots  all  thy  camels  load, 
T'  adorn  his  temples,  haften  with  thy  fpear 
Reverted,  and  thy  trufty  bow  unftrung, 
While  unpurfu'd  the  lions  roam  and  roar. 
And  ruin'd  tow'rs,  rude  rocks  and  caverns  wide, 
Remurmur  to  the  glorious,  furly  found. 
And  thou,  fair  India,  whofe  immenfe  domain 
To  couuterpoife  the  hemifphere  extends, 
Haftc   from  the  weft,   and  with  thy  fruits  and 

flow'rs, 

Thy  mines  and  med'cines,  wealthy  maid,  attend. 
More  than  the  plenteoufnefs  fo  fam'd  to  flow 
By  fabling  bards  from  Amalthea's  horn, 
Is  thine ;  thine  therefore  be  a  portion  due 
Of  thanks  and  praife :    come  with  thy  brilliant 

crown 

And  veft  of  fur ;  and  from  thy  fragrant  lap 
Pomegranates  and  the  rich  ananas  pour. 
But  chiefly  thou,  Europa,  feat  of  grace 
And  Chriftian  excellence,  his  goodnefs  own, 
Forth  from  ten  thoufand  temples  pour  his  praife ; 
Clad  in  the  armour  of  the  living  God 
Approach,  unflieath  the  Spirit's  flaming  fword  ; 
Faith's  flu«Jd,  Taxation 'sglery,--.compaiii'd  helm 


WORKS  .1 

With  fortfaiHe  afiu»e,  and  o'er  your  heart 

Fair  truth's  invulnerable  breaftplate  fpread  ; 

Then  join  the  general  chorus  of  all  worids> 

And  let  the  fong  of  charity  begin 

In  (trains  feraphic,  and  melodious  pray'r. 

"  O  all-fufficient,  all-beneficent, 

"  Thou  God  of  goodnefs  and  of  glory,  hear ! 

"  Thou,  who  to  lowliclt  minds  doft  condeicend, 

*'  Affuming  paffions  to  enforce  thy  laws, 

•*  Adopting  jealoufy  to  prove  thy  love  : 

"  Thou,  who  refign'd  humility  uphold, 

*•  Ev'n  as  the  florift  props  the  drooping  rofe, 

**  But  quell  tyrannic  pride  with  peerleis  pow'r, 

•'  Ev'n  as  the  tempeft  rives  the  ftubborn  oak. 

"  O  alUfufficient.  all  beneficent, 

•*  Thou  God  of  goodnefs,  and  of  glorr,  hear  ! 

"  Blefs  all  mankind,  and  bring  them  in  the  end 

'*  To  heav'n,  to  immortality,  and  theel" 

THE  HOP-GARDEN: 

A    GEORGIC.       IN    TWO    BOOKS. 

*"'  Me  quoque  Parnafli  per  lubicra  culmina  raptat 
**  Laudis  amor:  (Uidium  fequor  inl'anabile  vatis, 
**  Aufus  non  dperam,  non  formidare  poets 
•"*  Nomen,  adoratum  quondam,  nunc  psene  pro- 

"  caci 
*  Monftratum  dignito." Van.  Pried.  Rvft. 

BOOK  I. 

THE  land  that  anfwers  beft  the  farmer's  care, 
And  (ilvers  to  maturity  the  hop; 
When  ro  inhume  the  plants,  to  turn  the  glebe, 
And  wed  the  tendrils  to  th'  afpiring  poles ;    ' 
Under  what  fign  to  pluck  the  crop,  and  how 
To  cure,  and  in  capacious  facks  infold, 
I  teach  in  verfe  Miltonian.  Smile  the  mufe, 
And  meditate  an  honour  to  that  land 
Where  firft  I  breath'd,  and  ftruggled  into  life, 
Impatient,  Cantium,  to  be  call'd  thy  fon. 

Oh  !   couid  I  emulate  (kill'd  Sydney's  mufe, 
Thy  Sydney,  Cantium — he,  from  court  retir'd, 
In  Pendu-.ril's  iweet  Eiyfium  fung  delight; 
Sung  tranfport  to  the  foft-refpoiiding  dreads 
Of  Medu  ay,  and  enliven'd  all  her  groves 
While  ever  near  .him,  goddefsof  the  green, 
Fair  *  Pembroke  fat,  and  fmil'd  immenfe  applaufe. 
"With  voeal  -fafcaiation  charm'd  the  <\  hours-,. ; 
Unguarded  left  heav'n  s  adamantin£  j*ate^'.' 
Ana  to  his  lyre,  fwift  as  the  winged  ibunds 
That  ikim  the  air,  danc'd  unperceiynd/away. 
Had  Iluch  pow'r,  no  peafant'shuntble-ltoil 
Should  e'er  debafe. my  lay  ;  far  nobler  them &s, 
The  h.gh  achievements  of  thy  warrior  kings 
Should  raife  iny  thoughts,  and  dignify  in.v,.ibng,  ;'  ' 
But  I,  young  ru(tic,  dare  not  leave  my-c,ot,'- 
For  (o  enlarg'd  a  fphere---ah  !  mufe  be  ware  j     •*'*• 
Left  the  loud  'larums  of  the  braving  trump, 
Left  the  deep  drum  fliouid  droWn  thy  tender  reed, 
And  mar  its  puny  joints :  me,  lowly  (wain, 
Every  unfliaven  arboret,  me  the  lawns, 
Me  the  voluminous  Medway's  Slyer  wave, 
J  Content  inglorious,  and  the  hopland  fliades ! 

*  Sifter  to  Philip  Sydney. 

f  — —  Ilt/Xa/  fiuxtv  Ufam  i;  t%pi  flyau.  HoM.  E. 
|  Rura  mihi  et  rigui  placeant  in  valibus  amnes, 

f.  S. 


Yeomen  and  countrymeh,  attend  my  Cong  •* 
Whether  jou  fliiver  in  the  marfhy  *  Weald, 
Egregious  ihepherds  of  unnumbrr'd  flocks, 
Whtjte  fleeces,  poifon'd  into  purple,  deck 
All  Europe's  kings;  or  in  fair  f  Madum's  vale 
Imparadis'd,  blf-ft  denizons  1  ye  dwell ; 
Or  \  Dorovernia's  awful  tow'rs  ye  love  ; 
Or  plough  Tunbridgia's  falutiferous  hills 
Induftrious,  and  with  draughts  chalybeate  heal'^ 
Confefs divine  Hygeia's  blifsful  feat ; 
The  mule  demands  your  prefence,  ere  (he  tune 
H^r  monitory  voice ,  obierve  her  well, 
And  catch  the  wholefome  dictates  as  they  fall. 

'Midlt  thy  paternal  acres,  farmer,  fay, 
Has  gracious  Heav'n  beftow'd  one  field,  thatttfW 
Its  loamy  bofom  in  the  mid-dav  iun  ? 
Emerging  gently  from  the  abjecl  vale, 
Nor  yet  obnoxious  to  the  wind,  fecure 
There  fhalt  thou  plant  thy  hop.  This  foil,  perhaps^ 
Thou'it  fay,  will  fill  my  garners.  Be  it  fo. 
But  Cere*,  rural  goddeis,  at  the  beft 
Meanly  fupports  her  vot'ry  .  enough  for  her 
•f  ill-perfaading  hunger  fhe  repel, 
And  keep  the  foul  from  fainfcing  :  to  enlarge, 
To  glad  the  he-art,  to  fublimate  the  mind, 
And  wing  the  flagging  fpirits  to  the  Iky, 
Require  th'  united  influence  and  aid 
Of  Bacchus  god  of- hops,  with  Ceres  join'd. 
'Tis  he  fhall  generate  the  buxom  beer. 
Then  on  one  pedeftal,  and  hand  in  hand, 
Sculptoi'd  in  Parian  (tone  (fo  gratitude 
Indites),  let  the  divine  co-partners  rife. 
Stands  eaftward  in  thy  field  a  wood  ?  'tis  well. 
Efteem  it  as  a  bulwark  of  thy  wealth, 
And  cherifh  all  its  branches;  though  we'll  grant, 
Its  leaves  umbrageous" may  intercept 
The  morning  rays,  and  envy  fome  (ball  (hare 
Of  Sol's  beneficence  to  th'  infant  germ. 
Yet  grudge  not  that:  when  whiitling  Eurus  comes. 
With  all  his  worlds  of  infedts  in  thy  lands, 
To  hytmate,  and  monarchife  o'er  all 
Thy  vegetable  riches,  then  thy  wood 
Shall  ope  its  arms  expulfive,  and  embrace 
Tht  dorm  reluctant,  and  divert  its  rage. 
Armies  of  animalcules  urge  their  way 
In  vain:  the  ventilating  trets  oppofe 
Their  airy  march.  They  blacken  diftant  plains* 

This  (ite  for  thy  young  nurfery  obtain'd, 
Thou  haft  begun  aufpicious,  if  ^he  foil 
(As  fung  before),  be  loamy  ;  this  the  hop 
Loves  above  others ;  thi^  is  rich,  is  deep, 
^s.yifcous,  and  tenacious  of  the  pole. 
Yet  maugre  all  its  native  worth,  it  maj 
•Ete (meliorated  with  warmth  compoft.     See, 
jj|  Yon  craggy  mountain,  whofe  faiVidious  head 
j)i«rides  the  (tar-fet  hemifphere  above, 
And  Cantium's  plains  beneath  ;  the  Apennine 
Of  a  free  Italy,  whbfe  chalky  fides, 
With  verdant  (hrubsdiliiinilarly  gay, 
Still  captivate  the  eye,  while  at  his  leet 
The  filver  Medway  glides,  and  in  her  breaft 
Views  the  reflected,  lundikip,  charra'd  (he  viewj, 

*  Comtnonly,  but  improperly,  called  the  Wild. 
t  Maidftone. 
\  Canterbury. 

||  Boxley-HiUt    yubifb   exteadt  through  great 
$art  of  Kent. 


POEM 


Aad  murmurs  louder  ccftafy  below, 
Here  let  us  reft  a  while,  pleas'd  to  behold 
Th'  all-beautiful  horizon's  wide  expanfe,  • 
Far  as  the  eagle's  ken.     Here  tow'ring  fpires 
Firft  catch  the  eye,  and  turn  the  thoughts  to  heav'n. 
The  lofty  elms  in  humble  majefty 
Bend  with  the  breeze  to  fhade  the  folemn  grove, 
And  fpread  an  holy  darknefs ;  Ceres  there 
Shines  ia  her  golden  vefture.     Here  the  meads, 
Enrich'd  by  Flora's  dedal  hand,  with  pride 
Enpofe  their  fpotted  verdure.     Now  are  you, 
Pomona,  abfent;  you,  'midft  hoary  leaves, 
-Swell  the  vermih'on  cherry;  and  on. yon  trees 
Sufpend  the  pippin's  palatable  gold. 
There  old  Sylvanus,  in  that  mofs-grown  grot, 
.Dwells  with  his  wood-nymphs:  they,  with  chap- 
lets  green, 

And  ruffet  mantles  oft  bedight,  aloft 
From  yon  bent  oaks,  in  Medway's  bofom  fair, 
Wonder  at  filver  bleak,  and  prickly-pearch, 
That  fwiftly  through  their  floating  forefts  glide. 
Yet  not  even  thefe — thefe  ever-varied  fcenes 
Of  wealth  and  pleafure  can  engage  my  eyes 
T'  o'erlook  the  lowly  hawthorn,  if  from  thence 
The  thrufh,  fweet  warbler,  chants  th'  unftudied 

lays,  .    • 

Which  Phoebus'  felf  vaulting  from  yonder  cloud 
Refulgent,  with  enliv'ning  rays  irffpires. 
But  neither  tow'ring  fpires,  nor  lofty  elms, 
Nor  golden  Ceres,  iior  the  meadows  greeti, 
Nor  orchats,  nor  the  ruffet-mantled  nymphs, 
Which  to  the  murmurs  of  the  Medway  dance. 
Nor   fweetly  warbling   thrufh,    with   half  thofe 

charms 

Attract  my  eye^as  yonder  hop-land  clofe  ; 
Joint  work  of  art  and  nature,  which  reminds 
The  mufe,  and  to  her  theme  the  wand'rer  calls. 

Here,  then,  with  pond'rous  vehicles  and  teams 
Thy  nifties  fend,  and  from  the  caverns  deep 
Command  them  bring  the  chalk :  thence  to  the  kiln 
'  Convey,  and  temper  with  Vulcanian  fires. 
'Soon  as  'tis  form'd,  thy  lime  with  bounteous  hand 
O'e-r  all  thy  lands  diffeminate;  thy  lands    ,• 
Which  firft  have  felt  thefoft'ningfpade,and  drank 
The  itrength'ning  vapours  from  nutricious  marl. 

This  done,  felect  the  choiceft  hop,  t'  infert 
Frefh  in  the  opening  glebe.  Say  then,  my  mufe, 
Its  various  kinds,  and  from  th'  effete  and  vile, 
The  eligible  feparate  with  care. 
The  nobleft  fpecies  is  by  Kentifh  wights 
v  The  mafter-hop  yclep'd.     Nature  to  him 
Has  giv'n  a  ftouter  ilalk,  patient  of  cold, 
Or  Phcebus  ev'n  in  youth,  his  verdant  blood 
In  briflc  faltation  circulates  and  flows 
Indefinitely  vigorous :  the  next 
Is  arid,  fetid,  infecund,  and  grofs, 
Significantly  ftyl'd  the  Fryar  :  the  laft 
Is  call'd  the  Savage,  who  in  ev'ry  wood, 
And  ev'ry  hedge,  unintroduc'd,  intrudes* 
When  fuch  the  merit  of  the  candidates, 
Eafy  is  the  election  ;  but,  my  friend, 
Wouldft  thou  ne'er  fail,  to  Ken,t  direct  thy  way, 
.  Where  no  one  fhall  be  fruftrated  that  fecks 
Ought  that  is  great  or  good.     *  Ftail,  Cantium, 
hail ! 

*  Salve  magna  parens  frugurri,  Saturnia  tetlus 
Magna  virum:  tibi  r$$  antique  laudij  ef  artis 
Voi.  XI. 


t 

Illuftrious  parent  of  the  fincft  fruits  ? 

Illuflrious  parent  of  the  beft  of  men  !    - 

For  thee  antiquity's  tin  ice  facred  fprings 

Placidly  ftagnant  at  their  fountain-head, 

I  rafhly  Jare  to  trouble  (if  from  thence 

1  ought,  for  thy  utility  can  drain  , 

And  in  thy  towns  adopt  th'  Afcraean  mufe. 

Hail  heroes  !  hail  invaluable  gems  ! 

Fav'  rites  of  Heav'n  !  to  whom  the  general  doom  ' 

Is  all  remitted,  who  alone  poffefs 

Of  Adam's  fon*  fair  Eden  —  reft  ye  here 

Nor  feek  an  earthly  good  above  the  hop  ; 

A  good,  untafted  by  your  ancient  kings, 

And  to  'your  very  fires  almoft  unknown. 

In  thofe  bleft  days,  when  great  Eliza  reign'd 
O'er  the  adoring  natipn    when  fair  peace 
O'erfpread  an  unftaih'd  olive  round  the  land, 
Or  laurell'd  war  did  teach  out  winged  fleets 
To  lord  it  o'er  the  world;  when  our  brave  fireS 
Drank  valour  from  uncauponated.beer  ; 
The  hop  (before  an  interdicted  plant, 
Shun'd  like  fell  aconite),  began,  to  hang 
Its  folded  flofcles  from  the  golden  virie, 
And  bloom'd  a  fhade  to  Cantium's  funny  fhores 
Delightfome,  and  in  cheerful  goblets  laught 
Poterit,  what  time  Aquarius'  urn  inipends 
To  kill  the  dulfome  day—  potent  to  quench 
The  Syrian  ardour,  and  autumnal  ills 
To  heal  with  mild  potations  ;  fweeter  far 
Than  thofe  which  erft  the  fubtile  *  Hengiil  mijc'cl 
T'  inthral  voluptuous  Vortigerh.     He,  with  love 
Emafculate  and  wine,  .the  toils  of  war 
Neglected  ;  and  to  dalliance  vile  and  floth  "  • 

Emancipated,  faw  th'  encroaching  Sa.tons 
With  unaffected  eyes  ;  his  hand  which^  ought 
T*  have  fhook  the  fpear  of  juftice,  foft  and  fmootTij 
Play'd  ravifliing  divifions  on  the  lyre  : 
This  Hengift  mark'd,  and  (for  curs'd  irtfolence 
Soon  fattens  on  impunity,  and  riles 
Briareus  from  a  dwarf)  !  fair  Thanet  gain'd. 
Nor  ftopt  he  here  :  but  to  immenfe  attempts 
Ambition,  fky  afpiring,  led  him  on 
Advent'rous.    He  an  only  daughter  rear'd, 
Roxena,  matchlefs  maid!  nor  reared  in  vain. 
Her  eagle-ey'd  callidity,  deceit, 
And  fairy-  fiction,  rais'd  above  her  fcr, 
And  furnifiYd  with  a  thoufand  various  wile« 
Prepofbrous  more  than  female  ;  wondrous  fait 
She  was,  and  docile,  which  her  pious  nurfe 
Obferv'd,  and  dferly  in  each  female  fraud 
Ht;C  *gan  initiate  :  well  fhe  knew  to  fmile, 
Whene'er  vexation  gall'd  her^-did  fhe  weep  f 
'Twas  not  fincere,  the  fountains  of  her  eyes 
Play'd  artificial  ftreaifts,  yet  fo  well  forc'd, 
The'}'  look'd  like  nature  ;  for  ev'n  art  to  her 
Was  n;it'ral,  and  contrarieties 
Seem'd  in  Roxena  congruous  and  allied. 
Such  wa?  flle,  when  Ltilk  Vbrtigern  beheld,  _ 
(Ill-fated  prince)!  and  lov'd  her.    She  perceiv'd, 
Scfbri  flie  perceiv'd  lier  conqueft  ;  foon  fhe  told, 
With  hiifty  joy  tranfported,  her  old  fite. 
The  Saxon  inly  fniii'd,  aiid  to  his  ifle 

Ingridior,  finctoS  aufu*  rec'!_udere  fontcs, 
Alcr;tumque  cano  Romana  per  oppida-carmcn 

r  f'r 

*   See  tLcfoHcti'lnz  fcry,  told  at  laig:  ;.'i 


.  t. 


THE   WORKS   OF  SMART. 


The  willing  prince  invited  :  but  firft  bade 
The  nymph  prepare  the  potions;  fuch  as  fire 
The  blood's  meaiid'ring  rivulets,  and  depreis 
To  love  the  foul.    Lo !  at  the  noon  of  night, 
Thrice  Hecate  invok'd  the  maid — and  thrice 
The  goddefs  ftoop'd  aflent ;  forth  from  a  cloud 
She  ftoop'd,  and  gave  the  philters  pow'r  to  charm. 
Thefe  in  a  fplendid  cup  of  burnifh'd  gold 
The  lovely  forcerefs  mix'd,  and  to  the  prince 
Health,  peace,  and  joy,  propin'd,  but  to  herfelf 
Mutter'd  dire  exorcifrns  andwifh'd  effecl: 
To  the  love-creating  draught;  lowly  fhe  bow'd 
Pawning  infinuation  bland,  that  might 
Deceive  Laertes'  fon  ;  her  lucid  orbs 
Shed  copioufly  the  oblique  rays ;  her  face 
Like  modeft  Luna's  fhone,  but  not  fo  pale, 
And  with  no  borrowed  luftre  ;  on  her  brow 
Smii'd  fallacy,  while  fummoning  each  grace, 
Kneeling  (he  gave  the  cup.    The  prince  (for  who, 
Who  could  have  fpurn'd  a  fuppliant  fo  divine)  ? 
Drank  eager,  and  in  ecftafy  devour'd 
Th'  ambrofial  perturbation  ;  mad  with  love 
He  clafp'd  her,  and  in  Hymeneal  bands 
At  once  the  nymph  demanded  and  obtain'd. 
JJow  Hengift,  all  his  ample  wifli  fulnll'd, 
Exulted  ;  aV  from  Kent  th*  uxorious  prince 
.Exterminated,  and  ufurp'd  hi$  feat. 
.Long  did  he  reign ;  but  all-devouring  time 
Has  raz'd  his  palace  walls — perchance  on  them 
Grows  the  green  hop,  and  o'er  his  crumbled  buft, 
In  fpiral  twines,  afcends  the  fcantile  pole.— 
But  now  to  plant,  to  dig,  to  dung,  to  weed ; 
Talks  humble,  but  important,  aflc  the  mufe. 
.   Come,  fair  magician,  fportive  fancy,  come, 
With  wildeft  imagery ;  thou  child  of  thought, 
'From  thy  aerial  citadel  defcend, 
And  (for  thou  canft)  aflift  me.    Bring  with  thee 
Thy  all-creative  talifman  ;  with  thee 
The  active  fpirits  ideal,  tow'ring  flights, 
That  hover  o'er  {he  mufe-refounding  groves, 
And  all  thy  colourings,  all  thy  (hapes  difplay. 
Thou,  too,  be  here,  experience,  fo  (hall  I 
My  rules,  nor  in  low  profe  jejunely  fay, 
.Nor  in  fmooth  numbers  mufically  err : 
But  vain  is  fancy,  and  experience  vain, 
3£  thou,  O  Hefiod !  Virgil  of  our  land, 
*  Or  hear'ft  thou  rather,  Milton,  bard  dirine, 
"Whbfe  greatnefs  who  (halt  imitate,  fave  thee  ? 
If  thou,  0  f  Philips!  fav'ring  doft  not  hear 
jVIe,  inexpert  of  verfe ;  with  gentle  hand 
Uprear  the  unpiuion'd  mufe,  high  on  the  top 
Of  that  imirieaiurable  mount,  that  far 
Exceeds  thine  6wn  Plinlimmon,  where  thou  tun'ft 
"With  Phoebus'  (elf  thy  lyre.    Give  me  to  turn 
Th'  utrwieldy  fubjeft  with  thy  graceful  eafe, 
Extol  its  bafenefs  with  thy  art ;  but  chief 
Illumine,  and  invjgorate  with  thy  fire. 

When   PHcebus'   looks  through  Aries  on  the 

fpring, 

And  vernal  flow'rs  teem  with  the  dulcet  fruit, 
Autumnal  pride  !  delay  not  then  thy  fets 
In  Tellus'  facile  bolom  to  depofe 
Timely ;  if  thou  art  wife  the  bulkieft  choofe; 
To  every  root  three  joints  indulge,  and  form 

*  At  ipfe 

Subtilis  Veterum  juder  et  callidus  audis.     HORAT. 
f  Mr.  John  Philips  t  author  of  Cyder  t  a  foea. 


The  quincunx  with  well-regulated  hills. 
Soon  from  the  dung-enriched  earth,  their  headY 
Thy  young  plants  will  uplift  their  virgin  arms, 
They'll  ftrctch,  and,  marriageable,  claim  the  pole. 
Nor  fruftrate  thou  their  wimes,  fo  thou  may'il 
Expecft  an  hopeful  iffuc,  jolly  mirth, 
Sifter  of  taleful  Momus,  tuneful  fong, 
And  fat  good-nature  with  her  honeft  face. 
But  yet  in  the  novitiate  of  their  love, 
And  tendernefs  of  youth  fuffice  fmall  (hoots 
Cut  from  the  widov'd  willow,  nor  provide 
Poles  infurmountable  as  yet.     'Tis  then 
When  twice  bright  Phojbus'  vivifying  ray, 
Twice  the  cold  touch  of  winter's  icy  hand, 
They'  ve  felt ;  'tis  then  we  fell  fublimer  props. 
*Tis  then  the  fturdy  woodman's  ax  from  far 
Refounds,    refbunds,    and    hark  t    with    hollow  - 

groans 

Down  tumble  the  big  trees,  and  rufhing  roll 
O'er  the  crufh'd  crackling  brake,  while  in  his  cave 
Forlorn,  dejected,  'midft  die  weeping  Dryads 
Laments  Sylvanus  for  his  verdant  care. 
The  afli  or  willow  for  thy  ufe  feledt, 
Or  ftorm  enduring  chefnut ;  but  the  oak 
Unfit  for  this  employ,  for  nobler  ends 
Reforve  untouch'd;  (he  when  by  time  matur'd", 
Capacious  of  fome  Britifh  demigod,  ^ 
Vernon,  or  Warren,  {hall  with  rapid  wing 
Infuriate,  like  Jove's  armour-bearing  bird, 
Fly  on  thy  foes ;  they,  like  the  parted  waves, 
Which  to  the  brazen  beak  murmuring  give  way 
Amaz'd  and  roaring  from  the  fight  recede. — 
In  that  fweet  month,  when  to  the  lift'ning  f \vaint 
Fair  Philomel  fmgs  love,  and  every  cot 
With    garlands   blooms  bedight,    with  bandage 

meet 

The  tendrils  bind,  and  to  the  tall  pole  tie, 
Elfe  foon,  too  focn  their  meretricious  arms 
Round  each  ignoble  clod  they'll  fold,  and  leave 
Averfe  the  lordly  prop.     Thus,  have  I  heard 
Where   there's  no  mutual    tie,   no  ftrong  com- 

ne6lion 

Of  love-confpiriiig  hearts,  off  tkc  young  bride 
Has  proftituted  to  her  (laves  her  charms, 
While  the  infatuated  lord  admires 
*  Frefh-butting  fprcuts,  and  iffue  not  his  own. 
Now  torn  the  gkbe:  foon  with  correcting  hand 
When  fmiling  June  in  jocund  dance  leads  on 
Long  days  and  happy  hours,  from  every  vine 
Dock  the  redundant  branches,  and  once  more 
With  the  (harp  fpade  thy  numerous  acres  till.- 
The  (hovel  next  muft  lend  its  aid,  enlarge1 
:  The  little  hillocks,  and  eraze  the  weeds. 
This  in  that  month  its  title  which  derives 
From  great  Auguftus'  ever  facred  name! 
Sovereign  of  fcience  !  mafter  of  the  mufe ! 
Neglected  genius'  firm  ally !  of  worth 
Beft  judge,  and  beft  revvarder,  whofe  applaufe 
.  To  bards  was  fame  and  fdrtune !  O  !  'twas  well, 
Well  did  you  too  in  this,  all  glorious  heroes ! 
Ye  Romans ! — on  time's  wing  you've  ftamp'd  hi* 

praife, 
And  time  (hall  bear  it  to  eternity. 

Now  are  our  labours  crown'd  with  their  reward^ , 
Now  bloom  the'  florid  hops,  and  in  the  ftream 

*  Miraturque  novas  frondes,  et  non  fua  poma. 

VW.Q. 


t»    O    £ 

Shine  in  their  floating  filver,  while  above 

T'  embow'ring  branches  culminate,  and  farm 

jf^  walk  impervious  to  the  fun ;   the  poles 

In  comely  order  Hand  ;  and  while  you  cleave 

With  the  fmall  fluff  the  Medway's  lucid  wave, 

In  comely  order  ftill  their  ranks  preferve, 

And  feem  to  march  along  th'  extenfive  plain. 

In  neat  arrangement  thus  the  men  of  Kent, 

"With  native  oak  at  once  adorn'd  and  arm'd, 

Jntrepid  march'd  ;  for  well  they  knew  the  cries 

Of  dying  freedom,  and  .Aftrasa's  voice, 

Who  as  (he  fled,  to  echoing  woods  complain'd 

Of  tyranny,  and  William  ;  like  a  god, 

Refulgent  Rood  the  conqueror,  on  his  troops 

He  fent  his  looks  enliv'ning  as  the  fun's, 

But  on  his  foes  frown'd  agony,  and  death: 

On  his  left  fide  in  bright  emblazonry 

His  falchion  burn'd;    forth  from  his   fevenfold 

fliield 

A  bafililk  fliot  adamant ;  his  bow  [crowri'd 

"Wore  clouds  of  fury  1 — on   that  with  plumage 
Of  various  hue  fat  a  tremendous  cone : 
Thus  fits  high-canopied  above  the  clouds, 
Terrific  beauty  of  nodlurnal  Ikies, 
*  Northern  Aurora ;  flie  through  th'  azure  air 
Shoots,  (hoots  her  trem'lous  rays  in  painted  ftreaks 
tontinual,  while  waving  to  the  wind 
O'er  night's  dark  veil  her  lucid  trefles  flow. 
The  trav'ller  views  th'  unfeafonable  day 
Aftound,  the  proud  bend  lowly  to  the  earth, 
The  pious  matrons  tremble  for  the  world. 
But  what  can  daunt  th'  infuperable  fouls 
Of  Cantium's  matchlefs  fons  !  on  they  proceed, 
All  innocent  of  fear ;  each  face  exprefs'd 
Contemptuous  admiration,  while  they  view'd 
The  well  fed  brigades  of  ernbroider'd  (laves 
That  drew  the  fword  for  gain.     Firft  of  the  van, 
With  an  enormous  b*ough,  a  fhepherd  fwain 
Whittled  with  ruftic  notes  ;  but  fuch  as  (how'd 
A  heart  magnanimous :  the  men  of  Kent 
Follow  the  tuneful  fwain,  while  o'er  their  heads 
The  green  leaves  whifper,  and  the  big  boughs 
bend.  [lyre 

*Twas  thus   the   Thracian,  whofe  all-quick'ning 
The  floods  infpir'd,  and  taught  the  rocks  to  feel^ 
Enchanted  dancing  Hsemus,  to  the  tune, 
The  lute's  foft  tune  !  the  flutt'ring  branches  wave, 
The  rocks  enjoy  it,  and  the  rivulets  hear, 
The  hillocks  ikip,  emerge  the  humble  vales, 
And  all  the  mighty  mountain  nods  applaufe. 
The  conqueror  view'd  them,  and  as  one  that  fees 
The  vaft  abrupt  of  Scylla,  or  as  one 
7"hat  from  th'  oblivious  dreams  of  Lethe's  pool 
Has  drank  eternal  apathy,  he  flood. 
His  hoft  an  univerfal  panic  feiz'd 
Prodigious,  inopine  ;  their  armour  fhoofc, 
And  clatter'd  to  the  trembling  of  their  limbs; 
Some  to  the  walking  vvildernefs  'gan  run 
Confus'd,  and  in  th'  inhofpitable  (hade 
For  fhelter  fought-— Wretches  I  they  flicker  find; 
Eternal  fhelter  in  the  arms  of  death  1 
Thus  when  Aquarius  pours  out  all  his  urn 
Down  on  fome  lonefome  heath,  the  traveller 

*  Aurora  Borealis,  or  lights  in  the  air  ;  a  phe 
nomenon  which  of  late  years  has  bten  very  fre- 
<gusni  heret  and  in  all  the  mart  northern  countries 


M    9.  147 

That  wanders  o'er  the  wiht'ry  wafte  accepts 
The  invitation  of  fome  fpreading  b*ech 
Joyous;  but  foon the  treach'rous  gloom  betrays 
Fh'  unwary  vifitor,  while  on  his  head 
Th'  enlarging  drops  in  double  fhow'rs  defcend. 

And  nbw  no  longer  in  difguife  the  mm 
Of  Kent  appear ;  down  they  all  drop  their  boughs. 
And  mine  in  brazen  panoply  divine. 
Enough — Great  William  (for  full  well  he  knew 
How  vain  would  be  the  conteft)  to  the  fons 
Of  glorious  Cantium  gave  their  lives,  and  laws, 
And  liberties  fecure,  and  to  the  prowefs 
Of  Cantium's  fons,  like  Caefar,  deign'd  toyieldi 
Ca-'far  and  William !  hail  immortal  worthies, 
Illuftrious  vanquilh'd  1  Cantium,  if  to  them, 
Pofterity  with  ail  her  chiefs  unborn, 
Ought  fimilar,  ought  fecond  has  to  bond. 
Once  more  (fo  prophecies  the  mufe)  thy  fons 
Shall  triumph,  emulous  of  their  fires — till  then 
With  olive,  and  with  hop-land  garlands  crown'd| 
O'er  all  thy  land  reign  plenty,  reign  fair  peace. 

BOOK  It 

"  Orflnia  quse  rnialto  ante  memor  provifa  reponeJ, 
"  Si  te  digna  manet  divini  gloria  ruris." 

VIRG.  Geor.  lib.  a. 

AT  length  the  mufe  her  deftin'd  tafk  refumes 
With  joy  ;  agen  o'er  all  her  hop-land  groves 
She  feeks  t'  expatiate  free  of  wing.     Long  while 
For  a  much-loving,  rriuch-lov'd  youth  flie  wept, 
Sorrowing  in  filence  o'er  th1  untimely  urn. 
Hu(h  then,  effeminate  fobs ;  and  thou,  ray  heart, 
Rebel  to  grief  no  more — and  yet  a  while, 
A  little  while,  indulge  the  friendly  tears. 
O'er  the  wild  world,  like  Noah's  dove,  in  vain 
J  feek  the  olive  peace,  around  roe  wide 
See  !  fee  !  the  wat'ry  wafte— in  vain  forlorn 
I  call  the  Phoenix  fair  fincerity  j 
Alas  1—  extinguifh'd  to  the  fkies  flic  fled, 
And  left  no  heir  behind  her.     Where  is  now 
Th'  eternal  fmile  of  goodnefs  ?  where  is  now 
That  all-extenfive  charity  of  foul, 
So  rich  in  fweetnefs,  that  the  claffit  founds 
In  elegance  Auguftan  cloth'd,  the  wit 
That  flow'd  perennial,  hardly  were  obferv'dj 
Or,  if  obferv'd,  fet  off  that  brighter  gem. 
How  oft,  and  yet  how  feldom  did  h  feem  ! 
Have  I  enjoy'd  his  converfe  !  when  we  met; 
The  hours  how  fwift  they  fweetly  fled,  and  till 
Agen  I  faw  him,  how  they  loiter'd.     Oh  1 
|  Theophilus,  thou  dear  departed  foul,  [hail 

What  flattering  tales  thou  told'ft  me  ?  how  thou'dft 
My  mufe,  and  took'ft  imaginary  walks 
All  in  my  hopland  groves ;  flay  yet,  oh  (lay  t 
Thou  dear  deluder,  thou  haft  feen  but  half- 
He's  gone  !  and  ought  that's  equal  to  his  praife 
Fame  has  not  for  me,  though  (he  prove  moft  kind. 
Howe'er  this  verfe  be  facred  to  thy  name, 
Thefe  tears,  the  laft  fad  duty  of  a  friend. 
Oft  I'll  indulge  the  pleafurable  pain 
Of  recollection ;  oft  on  Medway's  banks 
I'll  rnufe  on  thee  full  penfive ;  while  her  ftreami 
Regardful  ever  of  my  grief,  (hall  flow 

t  Mr.  Theoplilui  Wheeler,  of  Cbrijt  Ckurrtt 


14* 


THE   WORKS    OF   SMART. 


In  fullen  filence  filverly  along 
The  weeping  fliores— -or  elfe  accordant  with 
My  loud  laments,  (hall  ever  and  anon 
IVlake  melancholy  mufic  to  the  (hades, 
The  hopland  (hades,  that  on  her  banks  expofe 
Serpentine  vines  and  flowing  locks  of  gold. 
Ye  Trailing  nymphs,  th'  infeparable  train 
Of  faffron  Ceres ;  ye,  that  gamefome  dance, 
And  fing  to  jolly  Autumn,  while  he  ftands 
With  his  right  hand  poizing  the  fcales  of  heav'n, 
And  while  his  left  grafps  Amalthea's  horn: 
Young  chorus  of  fair  bacchanals,  defcend, 
And  leave  awhile  the  fickle  ;  yonder  hill,     [care. 
Where  (land  the   loaded  hop-poles,  claims  your 
There  mighty  Bacchus  feated  crofs  the  bin, 
Waits  your  attendance — there  he  glad  reviews 
His  paunch  approaching  to  immenfity 
Still  nearer,  and  with  pride  of  heart  furveys 
Obedient  mortals,  and  the  world  his  own. 
See  1  from  the  great  metropolis  they  ru(h, 
Th'  induftrious  vulgar.     They,  like  prudent  bees, 
In  Kent's  wide  garden  roam,  expert  to  crop 
The  flow'ry  hop,  and  provident  to  work, 
£r?  winter  numb  their  funburnt  hands,  and  winds 
i*.iigoal  them,  murmuring  in  their  gloomy  cells. 
From  thefe,  fuch  as  appear  the  reft  t'  excel 
In  ftrength  and  young  agility,  feledl. 
Thefe  (hall  fupport  with  vigour  and  addrefs 
The  bin-man's'weighty  office  ;  now  extract   - 
From  the  fequacious  earth  the  pole,  and  now 
Unmarry  from  the  cloiely  clinging  vine. 
O'er  twice  three  pickers,  and  no  more,  extend 
To  bin-man's  fway ;  unlefs  thy  ears  can  bear 
The  crack  of  poles  continual,  and  thine  eyes 
Behold  unmov'd  the  hurrying  peafant  tear 
Thy  wealth,  and  throw  it  on  the  thanklefs  ground. 
But  firft  the  careful  planter  will  confult 
His  quantity  of  acres,  and  his  crop, 
How  many  and  how  large  his  kilns  ;  and  then 
Proportion'd  to  his  wants  the  hands  provide. 
But  yet  of  greater  confequence  and  colt, 
One  thing  remains  unfung,  a  man  of  faith 
And  long  experience,  in  \vhofe  thund'ring  voice 
Lives  hoarfe  authority,  potent  to  quell 
The  frequent  frays  of  the  tumultuous  crew. 
He  (hall  prefide  o'er  all  thy  hop-land  ftore, 
Severe  dictator  '.  his  unerring  hand, 
And  eye  inquifitive,  in  heedful  guife, 
Shall  to  the  brink  the  meafure  611,  and  fair 
On  the  twin  regifters  the  work  record. 
And  yet  I've  known  them  own  a  female  reign, 
And-gentle  *  Marianne's  foft  Orphean  voice 
Has  hymn'd  fweet  leffons  of  humanity 
To  the  wild  brutal  crew.     Oft  her  command 
Has  fav'd  the  pillarsNof  the  hop-land  ftate, 
The  lofty  poles  from  ruin,  and  fuftain'd, 
Like  Anna,  or  Eliza,  her  domain, 
With  more  than  manly  dignity.     Oft  I've  feen, 
£v'n  at  her  frown  theboilt'rous  uproar  ceafe, 
And  the  mad  pickers,  tam'd  to  diligence, 
Cull  from  the  bin  the  fprawling  fprigs,  and  leaves 
That  (lain  the  lample,  and  its  worth  debafe. 
All  things  thus  fettled  and  prepar'd,  what  now 
Can  (top  the  planters  purpofes  ?  unlefs 
The  heavens  frown  dilTV nt,  and  ominous  winds 

*  The  author's  youngeft*Jtflert 


Howl  through  the  concave  of  the  troubled  fky. 
And  oft,  alas!    the  long  experienc'd  wights 
(Oh  !  could  they  too  prevent  them)  ftorms  forefee* 
*  For,  as  the  ftorm  rides  on  the  rifing  clouds, 
Fly  the  fleet  wild-geefe  far  away,  or  elfe 
The  heifer  towards  the  zenith  rears  her  head, 
And  with  expanded  noftrils  fnuffs  the  air  : 
The  fwallowsrtoo  their  airy  circuits  weave, 
And  fcreaming  fkim  the  brook  ;  and  fen  bred  frogs 
Forth  from  their  hoarfe  throats  their  old  grudge 
Or  from  her  earthly  coverlets  the  ant        [recite : 
Heaves  her  huge  eggs  along  the  narrow  way  : 
Or  bends  t  Thaumantia's  variegated  bow 
Athwart  the  cope  of  heav'n :  or  fable  crows 
Obftreperous  of  wing,  in  clouds  combine  : 
Befides,  unnumber'd  troops  of  birds  marine, 
And  Afia's  feather'd  flock«,  that  in  the  muds 
Of  flow'ry  edg'd  Cayfter  wont  to  prey, 
Now  in  the  (hallows  duck  their  fpeckled  heads, 
And  luft  to  lave  in  vain,  their  unclious  plumes 
Repulfive  baffle  their  efforts :  hearken  next 
How  the  curs'd  raven,  with  her  harmful  voice, 
Invokes  the  rain,  and  croaking  to  heVfelf, 
Struts  on  fome  fpacious  folitary  (hore. 
Nor  want  thy  fervants  and  thy  wife  at  home 
Signs  to  prefage  the  fhow'r ;  for  in  the  hall 
Sheds  Niobe  her  prefcient  tears,  and  warns 
Beneath  thy  leaden  tubes  to  fix  the  vale, 
And  catch  the  falling  dew-drops,  which  fupply 
Soft  water  and  falubrious,  far  the  bed 
To  foak  thy  hops,  and  brew  thy  generous  beer. 
But  though  bright  Phoebus  fmile,  and  in  the  ikies 
The  purple-rob 'd  ferenity  appear  ; 
Though  every  cloud  be  fled,  yet  if  the  rage 
Of  Boreas,  or  the  blafting  eaft  prevail, 
The  planter  has  enough  to  check  his  hopes, 
And  in  due  bounds  confine  his  joys;  for  fee 
The  ruffian  winds  in  their  abrupt  career, 
Leave  not  a  hope  behind,  or  at  the  beft 
Mangle  the  circling  vine,  and  intercept 
The  juice  nutricious  :  fatal  means,  alas  ! 
Their  colour  and  condition  to  deftroy. 
Hafte  then,  ye  peafants;  pull  the  poles,  the  hops: 
Where  are  the  bins  ?  run,  run,  ye  nimble  maids, 
Move  ev'ry  mufcle,  ev'ry  nerve  extend, 
To  fave  our  crop  from  ruin,  and  ourfelves. 

*  Nunquam  imprudentibus  imber 
Obfuit.     Aut  iiium  furgentem  villibus  imis 
Acrise  fugere  grues  !  aut  bucula  ccelum 
Sufpiciens,  patulis  captavit  naribus  auras  : 
\ut  arguta  lacus  circumvolitavit  hirundo  : 
Et  veterem  in  limo  ranas  cecinere  querelam. 
Sspius  et  tectis  penetralibus  extulit  ova 
Auguftum  formica  terens  iter,  et  bibit  ingens 
Arcus,  et  e  paftu  decedens  agmine  magno 
Corvorum  increpuit  denfisexercitus  alis. 
Jam  varias  pelagi  volucres,  et  qux  Afia  circum 
Dulcibus  in  ftagnis  rimantur  pratra  Cayftri, 
Certatim  largos  humeris  infurtdere  rores ; 
Nunc  caput  object-are  fretis,  nunc  currere  in  undas, 
Et  ftudioincaflum  videas  geftire  lavandi. 
Turn  cornix  plena  pluvium  vocat  improba  voce, 
Et  fola  in  ficca  fecum  fpatiatur  arena, 
Nee  nodlurna  quidem  carpentes  peni'a  puellae 
Nefcivere  hveraera.  YlRG.  Georg.  It 

t  Irit.  •' 


POEMS. 


i     Soon  as  bright  Chanticleer  explodes  the  night 
iWith  flutt'ring  wings,  and  hymns  the  new-born 

day, 

iThe  bugle-horn  infpire,  whofe  clam'rous  bray 
iShall  roufe  from  fleep  the  rebel  rout,  and  tune 
jTo  temper  for  the  labours  of  the  day. 
jWifely  the  feveral  flations  of  the  bins 
By  lot  determine.  Juftice  this,  and  this 
Fair  prudence  does  demand;  for  not  without 
A  certain  method  couldft  thou  rule  the  mob 
Irrational,  nor  every  where  alike 
Fair  hangs  the  hop  to  tempt  the  picker's  hand. 

Now  fee  the  crew  mechanic  might  and  main 
Labour  with  lively  diligence,  infpir'd 
By  appetite  of  gain  and  lull  of  praife  : 
What  mind  fo  petty,  fervile,  fo  debas'd, 
As  not  to  know  ambition?  her  great  fway 
From  Colin  Clout  to  emperors  ihe  exerts. 
To  err  is  human,  human  to  be  vain. 
'Tis  vanity,  and  mock  defire  of  fame, 
That  prompts  the  ruilic,  on  the  ileeple  top 
Sublime,  to  mark  the  area  of  his  ihoe, 
And  in  the  outline  to  engrave  his  name. 
With  pride  of  heart  the  churchwarden  furveys, 
High  o'er  the  bellfry,  girt  with  birds  and  ilow'rs, 
His  {lory  wrote  in  capitals :  "  'twas  I 
*  That  bought  the  font ;  and  I  repair'd  the  pews." 
With  pride  like  this  the  emulating  mob 
Strive  for  the  maflery-  -who  firft  may  fill 
The  bellying  bin,  and  cleantfl  cull  the  hops, 
Nor  ought  retards,  uulefs  invited  out 
By  Sol's  declining,  and  the  evening's  calm, 
Leander  leads  Lxtitia  to  the  fcene 
Of  fhade  and  fragrance — then  th'  exulting  band 
Of  prickers  male  and  female,  feize  the  fair 
Reluctant,  and  with  boift'rous  force  and  brute, 
By  cries  unmov'd  they  bury  her  i'  th'  bin. 
Nor  does  the  youth  efcape — him  too  they  feize, 
And  in  fuch  pofture  place  as  beft  may  ferve 
To  hide  his  charmer's  blufhes.    Then  with  fhouts 
They  rend  the  echoing  air,  and  from  them  both 
(So  cutlom  hasordain'd),alargefs  claim. 

Thus  much  be  fung  of  picking—  next  fucceeds 
Th'  important  care  01  curing— quit  the  field, 
And  at  the  kiln  th'  inftructive  mufe  attend. 

On  your  hair-cloth  eight  inches  deep,  nor  more, 
Let  the  green  hops  lie  lightly  ;  next  expand 
The  fmootheft  furface  with  the  toothy  rake. 
Thus  far  is  jufl  above  ;  hut  more  it  boots 
That  charcoal  flames  burn  equally  below ; 
The  charcoal  flames,  which  from  thy  corded  wood, 
rOr  antiquated  poles,  with  wond'rous  Ikill, 
The  fable  priefls  of  Vulcan  fhall  prepare. 
•Conftant  aud  moderate  let  the  heat  afcend  ; 
jfUVhich  to  affect  there  are,  who  with  fuccefs 
Place  in  the  kiln  die  ventilating  fun 
Hail,  learned,  ufcful  *  man !  whole  head  and  heart 
Confpire  to  make  us  happy,  deign  t'  accept 
One  honeft  verle  ;  and  if  thy  induftry 
Has  ferv'd  the  hop-land  caufe,  the  mufe  forebodes 
This  fole  invention,  both  in  ufe  and  fame, 
The  f  myftic  fan  of  Bacchus  fhall  exceed. 

When  the  fourth  hour  expires,  with  careful  hand 
The  half-bak'd  hops  turn  over.  Soon  as  time 
Has  well  exhaufted  twice  two  glafles' more, 

'     *   Dr.  Hales. 

•}  Myftica  Yannus  lacchi.         Vng.<~*>rg,\. 


They'll  leap  and  crackle  with  their  burfling  feeds, 
For  ufe  domeftic,  or  for  fale  mature. 

There  are,  who  in  the  choice  of  cloth  t'  enfold 
Their  wealthy  crop,  the  viler,  coarfer  fort, 
With  prodigal  economy  prefer : 
All  that  is  good  is  cheap,  all  dear  that's  bafe. 
Befides,  the  planter  fhould  a  bait  prepare, 
T"  entrap  the  chapman's  notice,  and  divert 
Shrewd  obfervation  from  her  bufy  pry. 

When  in  the  bag  thy  hops  the  ruftic  treads, 
Let  him  wear  heellefs  fandal ;  nor  prefume 
Their  fragrancy  barefooted  to  defile : 
Such  filthy  ways  for  flaves  in  Malaga 
Leave  we  to  practife — whence  I've  often  feen, 
When  beautiful  Dorinda's  iv'ry  hands 
Has  built  the  paftry -fabric  (food  divine 
For  Chriftmas  gambols,  and  the  hour  of  mirth), 
As  the  dry'd  foreign  fruit,  with  piercing  eye, 
She  culls  fufpicious — lo!  fhc  ftarts,  fhe  frowns 
With  indignation  at  a  negro's  nail. 

Shouldil  thon  thy  harveft  for  the  mart  defign, 
Be  thine  own  factor  ;  nor  employ  thoie  drones 
Who've  flings,  but  make  no  honey,  felfifh  flaves ! 
That  thrive  and  fatten  on  the  planter's  toil. 

What  then  remains  unfung  ?  unlefs  the  care 
To  flock  thy  poles  oblique  in  comely  cones, 
Left  rot  or  rain  deftroy  them — 'tis  a  fight 
Mofl  fecmly  to  behold,  and  gives,  O  winter  ! 
A  lartdlkip  not  unpleafing  even  to  tl)^. 

And  now,  ye  rivals  of  th;e  hop-land  ftate, 
Madum  and  Dqrovernia  now  rejoice, 
How  great  amidft  fuch  rivals  to  excel ! 
Let  *  tirenovicum  boaft  (fop  boaft  flic  may) 
The  birth  of  great  Eliza. — Hail,  my  queen  ! 
And  yet  I'll  call  thce  by  a  dearer  nam- ; 
My  countrywoman,  hail !  thy  worth  alone 
Give's  fame  to  worlds,  and  makes  whole  ages  glo» 
rious ! 

Let  Sevenoalcs  vaunt  the  bofpitable  feat 
Of  f  Knoll  moil  ancient ;  awfully,  my  mufe, 
Thefe  focial  fcenes  of  grandeur  and  delight, 
Of  love  and  veneration  let  me  tread. 
How  oft  beneath  yon  oak  has  amorous  Prior 
Awaken'd  echo  with  fweet  Chloe's  name  ! 
While  noble  Sackville  heard,  hearing  approv'd, 
Approving,  greatly  recompens'd.  But  he, 
Alas !  is  number'd  with  th1  illuftrious  dead, 
And  orphan  merit  has  nrfguardian  now  \ 

Next  Shipbourne,  though  her  precincts  are  coo 

fin'd 

To  narrow  limits,  yet  can  fhow  a  train 
Of  village  beauties,  pafteraily  fweet, 
And  rurally  magnificent.  \  Fairlawn 
Opes  her  delightful  profpect ;  dear  Fairlawn 
There,  where  at  once  at  variance  and  agreed, 
Nature  and  art  hold  dalliance.  There,  where  rills 
Kifs  the  green  drooping  herbage;  there,  wheae 

trees, 

The  tall  trees  tremble  at  th'  approach  of  heav'n, 
And  bow  their  falutation  to  the  fun, 
Who  fofters  all  their  foliage — thefe  are  thine; 
Yes,  little  Shipbourne,  boaft  that  thefe  are  tliine— 
And  if — but  oh  ! — and  if  'tis  no  difgracc, 
The  birth  of  him  who  now  records  thy  praifc. 

*  Greenwich,  where  !j>ucen  Elizabeth  vias  bartt* 
f   Tie  feat  of  the  Duke  of  Dorfet. 
\   The  feat  of  Lord  Pant. 


,THI   WORKS  OF  SMART. 


Nor  {halt  thou,  Mereworth,  remain  unfung, 
Where  noble  Weftmoreland,  his  country's  friend, 
Bids  Britifh  greatnefs  love  the  filent  made, 
Where  piles  f'uperb,  in  claflic  elegance, 
Arife,  and  all  is,  Roman,  like  his  heart. 

Nor  Chatham,  though  it  is  not  thine  to  fhow 
The  lofty  foreft,  or  the  verdant  lawns, 
Yet  niggard  filence  {hall  not  grudge  thee  praife. 
The  lofty  forefts,  by  thy  fons  prepar'd, 
Becomes  the  warlike  navy,  braves  the  floods, 
And  gives  Sylvanus  empire  in  the  main. 
Oh  that  Britannia,  in  the  day  of  war, 
Would  not  alone  Minerva's  valour  truft, 
But  alfo  hear  her  wifdom !  Then  her  oaks, 
Shap'd  by  her  own  mechanics,  would  alone 
Her  ifland  fortify,  and  fix  her  fame ; 
Nor  would  fhe  weep,  like  Rachael,  for  her  fpqs, 
Whofe  glorious  blood,  in  mad  profufion, 
Jin  foreign  lands  is  fhed — and  fhed  in  vain. 

THE  HILLIAD: 

AN  EPJC  POEM. 

— <—  Pallas  te  hoc  vulnere,  Pallas 
Immolat,  et  poenam  fcelerato  ex  fanguine  fumit. 

VIRG 
A  LETTER 

TO  A  FRIEND  AT  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAM 
BRIDGE. 

DEAR  *****, 

1  AM  now  to  acknowledge  feveral  letters,  which 
lately  received  from  you,  without >ny  return  on 
my  part.  As  I  have  been  very  much  hurried  of  late 
with  a  multiplicity  of  affairs,  I  muft  beg  you  wi1 
not  only  be  kind  enough  to  overlook  my  paft  omif 
fion,  but  to  indulge  me  for  a  little  time  longer 
As  foon  as  I  am  mafter  of  ftifficient  leifure,  I  wil 
give  you  my  fentiments  without  referve,  concern 
ing  the  affair,  about  which  you  have  thought  pro 
per  to  confult  me ;  for  the  prefent,  I  defire  yo 
•will  confider  this  is  a  receipt  for  your  many  fa 
vours,  or  a  promifibry  note  to  difcharge  any  deb 
pf  friendfhip  as  foon  as  poflible. 

The  defign  and  colouring  of  a  poem,  fuch  a 
you  have  planned,  are  not  to  be  executed  in  a  hur 
ry,  but  with  flow  and  careful  touches;  which  wi 
give  that  finifhing  to  your  piece,  remarkable  i 
every   thing    that    comes '  from   your  hand,   am 
which  I  could  wifh  the  precipitancy  of  my  tempe 
would  permit  me  to  aim  at  upon  all  occafions. 
Jong  to  fee  you  take  a  new  flight  to  the  regions  o 
fame;  not  upon  unequal  wings, -that  fometim 
rife  to  a  degree  of  elevation,  and  then  fall  agai 
but  with  %n  uniform  tenor,  like  the  bird  in  Vi 
gil : 

Radit  iter  liquidum,  celeres  neque  comniov 
alas.    • 


I  have  been  now  for  about  three  weeks  in  this 
fcene  of  fmoke  and  duft,  and  I  think  the  republic 
of  letters  feems  to  be  lamentably  upon  the  decline 
in  this  metropolis.  Attornies'  clerks,  and  raw  un 
experienced  boys,  are  the  chief  critics  we  have  at 
prcfcpt.  With  a  fupercilious  look,  and  peremptory 
Voice,  which  tfiey  have  caught  from  a  few  of  their 
as  dark  and  ignorant  as  themfclves,  thefe 


riplings  take  upon  them  to  decide  upon  fable, 
iaracT:er,  language,  and  fentimerit. 

Nefcis,  heu  nefcis  dominae  faftidia  Romae  ; 
Crede  mihi,  nimium  Martia  turba  fapit. 

With  regard  to  writers,  the  town  fwarmt  with 
lem ;  and  the  aim  of  them  all  is  pretty  much  the 
ame,  viz.  to  elevate  and  furprife,  as  Mr.  Bays 
ays.     At  the  head  of  thefe  ftill  continues  the  In 
jector.     As  we  frequently  laughed  together  con- 
erning  this  writer,  when  you  were  laft  in  town, 
need  not  here  give  you  a  defcription  of  his  parts 
nd  genius.     I   remember  you  exprefTed  great 
mazement  at  the  reception  his  effays  feemcd  to 
meet  with  in  all  our  coffee-houfes ;  but  you  muft 
confider,  that  there  are  artifices  to  gain  fuccefs,  as 
well  as  merit  to  deferve  it.     The  former  of  thefe 
n's  Infpe&orfhip  is  eminently  poflefTed  off;  and, 
boner  than  fail,  he  will  not  hefitate,  in  order  to 
make  himfelf  talked  of  at  any  rate,  to  become  moft 
Sparingly  ridiculous.    This  anfwers  die  purpofe  of 
.he  bookfellers,  as  well,  perhaps,  as  Attic  wit; 
and  hence  it  refults,  that  they  are  willing  to  con 
tinue  him  in  their  pay. 

In  the  packet  which  I  have  fent  to  you  by  the 
lage-rcoach,  you  will  find  a  paper,  called  the  Im 
pertinent,  written  by  himfelf.  In  this  curious  piece 
be  has  not  flopped  at  abufinghisown  dearperfon; 
which  is  the  only  fubject  he  has  not  handled  with 
his  ufual  malice;  and  the  reft  of  it  is  made  a  vehi 
cle  for  invedlive  againft  Mr.  Fielding  and  me.  It 
was  ufhered  into  the  world  in  a  pompous  manner, 
as  if  intended  to  be  continued;  but  no  fecond  num 
ber  was  ever  publifhed  :  and,  to  fhow  you  a  far 
ther  inftance  of  his  fallacy,  he  thence  took  occafion 
to  triumph  over  a  pretender  to  effay  writing; 
which,  he  would  fain  infinuate,  cannot  be  exe-? 
cuted  by  any  one  but  himfelf. 

This  unfair  dealing,  fo  unworthy  a  man,  wh« 
afpires.  to  be  a  member  of  the  ferene  republic  of 
letters,  induced  me  to  wave,  for  a  time,  the  defign 
you  know  I  was  engaged  in,  in  order  to  beftow  a 
few  lines  upon  this  fcribbler,  who,  in  my  eyes,  is 
a  difgrace  to  literature.  In  the  firft  heat  of  my 
poetic  fury,  I  formed  the  idea  of  another  Dunciad, 
which  I  intended  to  call  after  the  name  of  my  he 
ro,  The  Hilliad.  The  firft  book  of  it  you  will  re 
ceive,  among  other  things,  by  the  coach;  and  I 
fhall  be  glad  to  be  favoured  with  your  opinion  of 
it. 

If  it  conduces  to  your  entertainment,  1  {hall  have 
gained  my  end ;  for  though  I  have  received  fuch 
provocation  from  this  man,  I  believe  I  fhall  never 
carry  if  any  further.  I  really  find  fome  involunta 
ry  fenfations  of  compaflion  for  him ;  and  I  cannot 
help  thinking,  that,  if  he  could  keep  within  the 
bouuds  of  decency  and  good  manners,  he  would 
be  a  rare  inftance  of  what  may  be  done  by  a  flu 
ency  of  periods,  without  genius,  fenfe,  or  mean- 
Though  I  am  perfuadcd  he  is  quite  incorri 


gible,  1  am  ftill  reluctant  to  publifh  that  piece  ;  for 
I  would  rather  be  commended  to  pofterity  by  the 
elegant  and  amiable  mufes,  than  by  the  fatiric  fif- 
ter,  politely  called  by  an  eminent  author — thelcaft 
engaging  of  the  nine. 

On  this  account  I  fhall  proceed  no  further  till 
you  have  favoured  me  with  your  opinion,  by 
which  LwiJl  ablblutcly  determine  myfelf.  1  hope. 


f    O    E 

therefore,  you  will  perufe  it  as  foon  as  you  can 
•with  convenience,  and  return  it  to  me  by  the  ftage. 
You  may  fhow  it  to  Jack  **»***,  and  toMr.  **«'. 
I  am,  with  great  fincerity, 
Dear  "****, 

Your  moft  obidient  humble  fervant, 
London,  i^th  Dtamlcr  175*.  C.  SMART. 


DtAR  SMART, 

THE  perufal  of  your  poem  has  given  me  fo  much 
pleafure,  that  I  cannot  poftpone  thanking  you  for 
it,  by  the  firft  opportunity  that  has  offered.  I  have 
read  it  to  the  perfons  you  defired  I  ftiould;  and 
they  approve  the  defign  in  the  higheft  manner. 
I  cannot  conceive  what  fhould  make  you  hefitate  a 
moment  about  the  publication ;  and,  to  be  free 
with  you,  you  muft  not  by  any  means  fupprefs  it. 
When  I  fay  this,  I  muft  obferve,  that  I  fhould  be 
•lad  to  fee  you  better  employed,  than  in  the  dif- 
fection  of  an  infect ;  but  fince  the  work  fhould 
be  done  by  fomtbody,  and  fince  you  have  made 
fuch  a  progrcfs,  I  mult  take  the  liberty  to  infift, 
that  you  will  not  drop  this  undertaking. 

To  fpeak  in  plain  terms;  I  look  upon  it  to  be  in- 
ilifpenfably  incumbent  on  you  to  bring  the  mifcre 
ant  to  poetic  juftice  :  it  is  what  you  owe  to  the 
caufe  of  learning  in  general,  to  your  alma  mater, 
this  univerfity,  and,  let  me  add,  it  is  what  you  owe 
to  yourfelf.  The  world  will  abfolve  you  from  any 
imputation  of  ill-nature,  when  it  is  confidered  that 
the  pen  is  drawn  in  defence  of  your  own  character. 
Give  me  leave,  upon  this  occafion,  to  quote  a  paf- 
fage  from  the  Spectator,  which  I  think  pertinent 
to  the  prefent  fubject :  "  Every  honeft  man  ought 
'*  to  look  upon  himfelf  as  in  a  natural  ftate  of 
"  war  with  the  libeller  and  lampooner,  and  to 
M  annoy  them,  wherever  they  fall  in  his  way.  This 
"  is  but  retaliating  upon  them,  and  treating  them 
"  as  they  treat  others."  -. 

Thus  thought  the  polite  Mr,  Addifon,  in  a  cafe 
where  he  was  not  immediarely  concerned:  and  can 
you  doubt  what  to  do,  when  perfonally  attacked  ? 
As  foon  as  the  hilling  of  the  ihake  is  heard,  fome 
means  fliould  be  devifed  to  crufli  him.  The  ad 
vice  of  Virgil  is—"  Cape  faxa  manu,  cape  robora 
paftor." 

I  can  tell  you  that  your  friends  here  expect  this 
of  you ;  and  we  are  all  unanimous  in  thinking, 
that  a  man  who  has  the  honour  of  belonging  to 
this  learned  univerSty,  and  to  whom  the  prize, 
for  difplaying  with  a  mafterly  hand  the  attributes 
of  his  Maker,  has  been  adjudged  for  three  years 
fucceflively,  Ihould  not,  on  any  account,  fuffer 
himfelf  rif be  trifled  with  by  fo  frigid  and  empty  a 
writer.  I  would  have  you  reflect,  that  you 
launched  into  the  world  with  many  circumftances, 
that  raifed  a  general  expectation  of  you,  and  the 
early  approbation  of  fuch  a  genius  as  Mr.  Pope, 
for  your  elegant  verfion  of  his  ode,  made  you  con 
fidered  as  one,  who  might  hereafter  make  a  figure 
in  the  literary  world  ;  and  let  me  recommend  to 
you,  not  to  let  the  laurel,  yet  green  upon  your 
brow,  be  torn  off  by  the  profane  hands  of  an  un 
hallowed  hireling.  This,  I  think,  as  is  obferved 
already,  you  owe  to  yourfelf,  and  to  that  univerfi 
ty  which  has  diftinguiflied  you  with  honour. 

Befides  the  motives  of  retaliation,  wVch  I  have 
urged  for  the  publication  of  your  poem,  I  cannot 


M    S.  i5t 

help  confidering  this  matter  in  a  moral  light,  and 
I  muft  avow,  that  in  my  eyes  it  appears  an  action 
of  very  great  merit.  If  to  pull  off  the  mafk  from 
an  impoftor,  and  detect  him  in  his  native  colours 
to  the  view  of  a  long-deluded  pubhV,  may  be 
looked  upon  as  a  fervice  tomaiikind  (as  it  certain 
ly  is),  a  better  opportunity  never  can  offer  itfelf. 

In  my  opinion,  the  caufe  of  literature  is  in  im 
minent  danger  of  a  t^tal  degeneracy,  mould  this 
writer's  diurnal  productions  meet  with  further 
encouragement.  Without  (training  hard  for  it,  I 
can  perceive  a  corruption  of  taite  diffufing  itfelf 
throughout  the  cities  of  London  and  Weftminfter. 
For  a  clear  vein  of  thinking,  eafy  natural  expref- 
iion,  and  an  intelligible  ftyle,  this  pretender  has 
fubftituted  brifk  quellion  and  anfwei,  pert,  un 
meaning  periods,  ungrammatical  conftruction,  un 
natural  metaphors,  with  a  profufion  of  epithets, 
inconfiftent,  for  the  moft  part,  with  the  real  or  figu 
rative  meaning  of  his  words ;  and,  in  fhort,  all  the 
mafculine  beauties  of  ftyle.  are  likely  to  be  ba- 
iiifhc-d  from  among  us,  by  the  continuation  of  hi* 
papers  for  almoft  two  years  together. 

Now,  Sir,  I  fubmit  it  to  you,  whether  this  may 
not  lead  on  to  a  total  depravity  of  fenfe  and  tafte. 
Should  the  more  fober  at  our  coffee-houfes  be  daz 
zled  with  falfe  embellishments  ?  fhould  boys  ad 
mire  this  unnatural  flourifhing  ?  I  do  not  in  the 
leaft  queftion,  but  the  rifing  generation  will  be  to 
tally  infected  with  this  Itrange  motley  ftyle  ;  and 
thus  antithefis  and  poiut  will  be  the  prevailing; 
turn  of  the  nation. 

It  Is  to  prevent  a  contagion  of  this  fort,  that 
Horace  took  the  pen  in  hand;  for  this  Quintiliaa 
favoured  the  world  with  his  excellent  work.  The 
ingenious  authors  of  France  have  always  attended 
to  this  point.  Truth,  they  infilled,  is  the  very 
foundation  of  fine  writing,  and  that  no  thought^ 
can  be  beautiful,  which  is  not  juft,  was  their  con- 
ftant  leflen.  To  enforce  this  and  preferve  a  manly 
way  of  thinking,  Boileau  lathed  the  fcribblers  of 
his  time,  and  in  our  own  country  the  Spectators, 
Tatlers,  and  Guardians  have  laboured  for  this  end. 
To  this  we  owe  the  Bathos,  in  which  we  find  ex- 
pofed,  with  the  moft  delicate  traits  of  fatire,  all 
falfe  figure)  in  writing  ;  and  finally  to  this  we  owe 
the  Duncijid  of  Mr.  Pope. 

.     Thefe  inftances,  dear  Smart,  are  fufficient  to» 
Juftify  your  proceeding,  and  let  me  tell  you,  that 
a  cultivation  of  tafte  is  a  point  of  more  moment 
than  perhaps  may  appear  at  firft  fight.     In  the 
courfe  of  ray  reading,  I  have  obferved  that  a  cor 
ruption  in  morals  has  always  attended  a  decline  of 
letters.     Of  this  Mr.  Pope  feems  to  be  fenfible, 
and,  hence  we  find  in  the  conclufion  of  his  Dun- 
ciad,  the  general  progrefsof  dullnefs  over  the  laud 
is  the  final  coup  de  grace  to  every  thing  decent, 
every  thing  laudable,  elegant,  and  polite. 
Religion  blufliing  veils  her  facred  fires, 
And  unawares  morality  expires. 
Nor  public  fame,  nor  private  dares  to  fliine. 
Nor  human  fpark  is  left,  nor  glimpfe  divine. 
Lo  !  thy  dread  empire,  chaos  !  is  rettor'd. 
Light  dies  before  thy  uncreating  word. 
Thy  hand,  great  Anarch,  lets  the  curtain  fall, 
And  univerfal  darknels  buries  all. 

I  am  aware  that  you  may  anfwer  to  what  ha* 
be$n  premifcd,  that  the  man  ianot  of  confjijucnca 


THE   WORKS   OF  SMART. 


encugh  for  all  this,  and  you  may  obferVe  to  me, 
that  at  firft  fetting  out,  I  myfelf  called  him  by  the 
figurative  and  typical  appellation  of  an  infect. 
But  if  an  infect  gets  into  the  funfliine,  and  there 
blazes,  fhines,  and  buzzes  totheannpyanceof  thofe, 
who  may  be  balking  in  the  brains,  it  is  time  for 
the  mufes  wing  to  brufh  the  thing  away.  In  plain 
Englifhjthe  rapidity,  with  which  this  writer  went 
on  in  his  progrefs,  was  fo  aftonifhing,  that  I  really 
looked  upon  him  to  be  referved  for  the  great  in- 
ftrument  of  dullnefs  in  the  completion  of  her 
work,  which  certainly  muft  be  accomplifhed,  un- 
lefs  a  fpeedy  flop  be  put  to  that  inundation  of  non- 
fenfe  and  immorality  with  which  he  has  over 
whelmed  the  nation. 

I  have  mentioned  immorality,  nor  will  I  retract 
the  word.  Has  he  not  attacked,  malicioufly  at 
tacked  the  reputations  of  many  gentlemen,  to 
whom  the  world  has  been  greatly  obliged? — -He 
did  not  brandifh  his  goofe-quill  for  any  length  of 
time,  before  he  difcharged  a  torrent  of  abufe  upon 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Francis,  whofe  amiable  cha 
racter,  and  valuable  translation  of  Horace,  have 
endeared  him.  both  to  thofe,  who  are,  and  thofe 
who  are  not  acquainted  with  him.  Even  beauty 
and  innocence  were  no  fafeguards  againft  his  ca 
lumny,  and  the  foft-eyed  virgin  was  by  him  cruel 
ly  obliged  to  filed  the  tender  tear. 

Upon  the  commencement  of  the  Covent-Garden 
Journal,  Mr.  Fielding  declared  an  humorous  war 
againft  this  writer,  which  was  intended  to  be 
carried  with  an 'amicable  pleafantry,  in  order  to 
contribute  to,  the  entertainment  of  the  town.  It 
i;  recent  in  every  body's  memory,  how  the  In- 
fpector  behaved  upon  that  occafion.  Confcious 
that  there  was  not  an  atom  of  humour  in  his  com- 
pofition,  he  had  recouife  to  his  ufual  fhifts,  and 
jnftantly  difclofed  a  private  converiation;  by  which 
he  reduced  himfelf  to  the  alternative  mentioned 
by  Mr.  Pope';  "  and  if  he  lies  not,  muft  at  leaft 
"  betray."  Through  ail  Mr,  Fielding's  inimitable 
comic  romance?,  we  perceive  "no  fuch  thing  as 
perfonal  malice,  no  private  character  dragged  into 
light ;  but  every  ttroke  is  copied  from  the  volume 
which  nature  lias  unfolded  to  him;  every  fcene 
of  life  is  by  him  reprefented  in  its  natural  colours, 
and  every  fpcries  of  folly  or  humour  is  ridiculed 
•with  the  moft  exquifite  'touches.  A  genius  like 
tlm  is  pi-rh'aps  more  ufeful  to  mankind,  than  any 
clafs  of  writers;  he  ferves  to  difpel  a!!  gloom  from 
cur  minds,  to  work  off  our  ill-humours  by  ^lie  gay 
fenfatioris  excited  by  a  well-directed  pleafantry, 
and  in  a  vein  of  mirth  he  leads  his  readers  into  the 
knowledrp  oY  hufhat)  irature  ;  the  rqoft  ufeful  and 
pleafing  fcience  we  c.ni  apply  to.  And  yet  fqde- 
ferving  an  author  has  bc-en  moft  grofsly  treated 
by  this  wild  effrmft,  and,  not  to  multiply, instances, 
lias  he  not  attempted  to'raife  tumults  and  divifions 
in  our  theatres, 'contrary  to  all  decency  and  com 
mon  fenfe,<  and  contrary  to  the  pra<flire  of  all  po 
lite  writevs,  whofe  chief  aim  has  ever  been  to  che- 
rifli  ha'rrrior.y  and  good  manners,  and  to  diffufe 
through  all  ranks  of  people '  a  juft  refinement  of 
tafte  in  all  onr  public  entertainments  ? 

Thefe  confidera'tions,  dear  Sir,  prompt  you  to 
the  blow,  and1  xvilljuftify  it  when  given.  I  believe, 
I  may  venture  to'  add,  never  had  poet  fo  inviting 
a  luhjedl  for-fatire;  Pope  himfelf  had  not  fo  gbod 
. 


an  hero  for  his  Dunciad.  The  firft  worthy  who 
fat  in  that  throne,  viz.  Lewis  Theobald  of  dull 
memory,  employed  hirnfelf  in  matters  of  fome 
utility,  and,  upon  being  dethroned,  the  perfon 
who  fuceeeded,  was  one,  who  formerly  had  fome 
fcattered  rays  of  light;  and  in  moft  of  bis  comedies, 
though  whimfical  and  extravagant,  there  are  many 
ftrokes  of  drollery ;  not  to  mention  that  the  Care- 
lefs  HufDand  is  a  finifhed  piece. 

But  in  the  hero  of  the  Hilliad  all  the  requifites 
feem  to  be  united,  without  one  fingle  exception. 
You  remember,  no  doubt,  that  in  the  diflertation 
prefixed  to  the  Dunciad  the  efficient  qualities  of  an 
hero  for  the  little  epic  are  mentioned  to  be  vanity, 
impudence,  and  debauchery.  Thefe  accomplifh- 
ments,  I  apprehend,  are  glaring  in  the  perfon 
you  have  fixed  upon.  As  a  fingle  and  notable  in- 
ftance  of  the  two  firft,  has  he  not  upon  all  occa- 
(ions  joined  himfelf  to  fome  celebrated  name,  fuch 
as  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Orrery,  or 
fome  other  fuch  exalted  character  ?  I  have  fre 
quently  diverted  myfelf  by  comparing  this  pro 
ceeding  to  the  cruelty  of  a  tyrant,  who  ufed  to  tie 
a  living  perfon  to  a  dead  carcafe  ;  and  as  to  youc 
hero's  debauchery,  there  are,  lam  told,  many  plea- 
fant  inftances  of  it. 

Add  to  thefe  feveral  fubordinate  qualifications  ; 
fuch  as  foppery,  a  furprtfing  alacrity  to  get  into 
fciapes,  with  a  notable  facility  of  extricating  him 
felf,  an  amazing  turn  for  politics,  a  wonderful 
knowledge  of  herbs,  minerals,  and  plants,  and  to 
crown  all,  a  comfortable  fhare  of  gentle  dulinefs. 
This  gentle  dullnefs  is  not  that  impenetrable  ftnpi- 
dity,  which  is  remarkable  in  fome,  men,  but  it  is 
known  by  that  countenance,  which  Dr.  Garth 
calls  "  demurely  meek,  infipidly  ferene."  It  is 
known  by  a  brifk  volubility  of  fpeech,  a  lively 
manner  of  faying  nothing  through  an  entire  paper, 
and  upon  all  occafions  by  a  confcious  fimper,  fliort 
infertions  of  witty  remarks,  the  frequent  exclama 
tion  of  wonder,  the  felf-applauding  chit-chat,  and 
the  pleafant  repartee. 

Upon  the  whole,  dear  Smart,  I  cannot  conceive 
what  doubt  can  remain  in  your  mind  about  the 
publication ;  it  is  conferring  on  him  that  ridicule, 
'which  his  life,  character,  and  actions  deferve.  I 
lhail  be  in  town  in  lei's  than  a  fortnight,  when  J 
mail  bring  your  poem  with  me,  and  if  you  will 
give  me  leave,  I  will  help  you  to  fome  notes, 
which  I  think  will  illuftrafe  many  paflages. 

"  Satyrarurn  ego  (ni  pudet  illas),' 

Adjutor,"  &c.    Jov. 

I  am,  dear  Smart, 
Yours  very  fincerely, 

Cambridge,  Dec.  21.  1752. 

BOOK  I. 

THOU  god  of  jeft,  who  o'er  th'  ambrofial  bowl, 
Giv'lt  joy  to  Jove,  while  laughter  (hakes  the  pole; 
And  thou,  fair  juftice,  of  immortal  line, 
Hear,  and  affift  the  poet's  grand  defign, 
Who  aims  at  triumph  by  no  common  ways, 
But  on  the  ftem  of  dullnefs  grafts  the  bays. 
O  thou  whatever  name  delight  thine  ear, 
Pimp  ?  poet !  puffer  !  'pothecary  !  player  1 
Whole  bafelefs  fame  by  vanity  is  buoy'd, 
Like  the  »uge  earth,  felf-center'd  in  the  void,   i« 


***  ***** 


POEMS. 


Accept  one  partner  thy  own  worth  t'  explore, 
And  in  thy  praife  be  fingular  no  more. 

Say,  mufe,  what  demon,  foe  to  eafe  and  truth, 
Firft  from   the  mortar  dragg'd  th'  advent'rous 

youth, 

And  made  him,  'mongft  the  fcribbling  fons  of  men, 
Change  peace  for  war,  the  peflle  for  the  pen  ? 
'Twas  on  a  day  (O  may  that  day  appear 
No  more,  but  lofe  its  ftation  in  the  y^'ar, 
In  the  new  flyle  be  not  its  name  en^ill'd, 
But  fliare  annihilation  in  the  old} !  ao 

A  tawny  Sybil,  whofe  alluring  fong 
Decoy' d  the  'prentices  and  maiden  throng, 
Firft  from  the  counter  young  Hillario  charm'd, 
And  firft  his  unambitious  foul  alarm'd— 
An  old  flrip'd  curtain  crofs  her  arms  was  flung, 
And  tatter'd  tap'ftry  o'er  her  moulders  hung  ; 
Her  loins  with  patch-work  cindture  were  begirt, 
That  more  than  fpoke  diverfity  of  dirt ; 
With  age  her  back  was  double  and  awry, 
Twain  were  her  teeth,  and  fingle  was  her  eye,   30 
Cold  palfy  fhook  her  head — fhe  feem'd  at  moft 
A  living  corpfe,  or  an  untimely  ghoft, 
With  voice  far-fetch'd  from  hollow  throat  pro 
found, 

And  more  than  mortal  was  th'  infernal  found. 
"  Sweet  boy,  who  fecm'ft  for  glorious  deed 

"  defign'd, 

**  O  come  and  leave  that  clyfter  pipe  behind ; 
"  Crofs  this  prophetic  hand  with'  filver  coin, 
"  And  all  the  wealth  and  fame  I  have  is  thine — " 
She  faid — he    (for  what   fmpling    could  with- 

ftand*,  ? 

Straight  with  his  only  fixpcnce  grac'd  her  hand. 
And  now  the  precious  fury  all  her  breaft  41 

At  once  .invaded,  and  at  once  poflefs'd  ; 
Her  eye  was  fix'd  in  an  ecftutic  flare, 
And  on  her  head  uprofc  th'  aftonifh'd  hair : 
No  more  her  colour  or  her  looks  the  fame, 
But  moonfhine  madnels  quite  convulse!  her  frame, 
While,  big  with  fate,  again  fhe  Clence  broke, 
And  in  few  words  voluminoufly  fpoke, 

"  In  thefe  three  lines  athwart  thy  palm  I  fee, 
*  Either  a  tripod,  or  a  triple-tree,  50 

"  For,  Oh !  I  ken  by  myfteries  profound, 
"  Too  light  to  fink,  thou  never  canfl  be  drown'd — 
'  Whate'er  thy  end,  the  fates  are  now  at  flrife, 
'  Yet  ftrange  variety  (hall  check  thy  life — 
c  Thou  grand  didatar  of  each  public  {how, 
'  Wit,  moralift,  quack,  harlequin,  and  beau, 
'  Survey  man's  vice,  felf-prais'd,  and   felf-pre- 

«  ferr'd, 

M  And  be  th'  infpeclor  of  th'  infe&ed  herd ; 
"  By  any  means  afpire  at  any  ends, 
"  Bafenefs  exalts,  and  cowardice  defends,  60 

"  The  chequer  d  world's  before  thee — go — fare- 

"  well, 

"  Beware  of  Iriihmen — and  learn  to  fpelL" 
Here  from  her  breaft  th'  infpiring  fury  flew  : 
She  ceas'd — and  initant  from  his  fight  withdrew. 
Fir'd  with  his  fate,  and  confcious  of  his  worth, 
The  beardlefs  wight  prcpar'd  to  fally  forth. 
But  firft  ('twas  juft,  'twas  natural  to  grieve) 
He  figh'd,  and  took  a  foft  pathetic  leave. 
"  Farewell,  a  long-  farewell  to  all  my  drugs, 
fc  My  labell'd  vials,  and  my  letter'd  jugs ;  70 

«'  And  you,  ye  bearers  of  no  trivial  charge, 
J«  Where  all  my  Latin  ftands  infcrib'd  at  large : 


"  Ye  jars,  ye  gallipots,  and  draw'rs  adfcu, 
"  Be  to  my  memory  loft,  as  loft  to  view, 
"  And  ye,  whom  I  fo  oft  have  joy'd  to  wipe, 
:<  Th'  ear-fifting  fy tinge,  and  back-piercing  pipe, 
"  Farewell — my  day  of  glory's  on  the  dawn, 
"  And  now — Hillario's  occupation's  gone." 

Quick  with  the  word  his  way  the  hero  made, 
Conau&ed  by  a  glorious  cavalcade  ;  80 

Pert  petulance  the  firlt  attracts  his  eye, 
And  drowfy  dullnefs  flowly  faunters  by, 
With  malice  old,  and  fcandal  ever  knew, 
And  neutral  nonfenfe,  neither  falfe  nor  trueC 
Infernal  falfehood  next  approach'd  the  band, 
With  ***,  and  the  Koran  in  her  hand. 
Her  motley  vefture  with  the  leopard  vies, 
Stain'd  with  a  foul  variety  of  lies. 
Next  fpiteful  enmity,  gangren'd  at  heart, 
Prefents  a  dagger,  and  conceals  a  dart.  90 

On  th'  earth  crawls  flattery,  with  her  bofom  bare, 
And  vanity  fails  over  him  in  air. 

Such  was  the  group — they  bow'd,  and  they 

ador'd, 

And  hail'd  Hillario  for  their  fovereign  lord. 
Flufh'd  with  fuccefs,  and  proud' of  his  allies, 
Th'  exulting  hero  thus  triumphant  cries: 
"  Friends,  brethren,  ever  prefent,  ever  dear,  • 
"  Home  to  my  heart,  nor  quit  your  title  there, 
"  While  you  approve,  aflift,  inftrucft,  infpire, 
"  Heat  my  young  blood,  and  fet  my  foul  on  fire; 
"  No  foreign  aid  my  daring  pen  fhall  choofe,   loi 
"  But  boldly  verfify  without  a  mufe. 
"  I'll  teach  Minerva,  I'll  infpire  the  nine,  "1 

"  Great  Phoebus  fhall  in  confultation  join,          / 
"  And  round  my  nobler  brow  his  forfeit  laurel  ( 
"  twine."  j 

He  faid — and  clamour,  of  commotion  horn, 
Rear'd  to  the  fkies  her  ear-afflic~bing  horn, 
While  jargon  grav'd  her  titles  on  a  block, 
And  ftyPd  him  M.  D.  Acad.  Budig.  Soc. 

But  now  the  harbingers  of  fate  and  fame,     lib 
Signs,  omens,  prodigies,  and  portents  came. 
Lo  !  (through  mid-day)  the  grave  Athenian  fowl 
Ey'd  the  bright  fun,  and  hail'd  him  with  a  howl; 
Moths,  .mites,  and  maggots,  fleas  (a  numerous 

crew) ! 

And  gnats  and  grubworms  crowded  on  his  view* 
Infedts !  without  the  microfcopic  aid, 
Gigantic  by  the  eye  of  dullnefs  made  ! 
And  ft  ranger  ftill — and  never  heard  before  I 
A  wooden  lion  roar'd,  or  feem'd  to  rosr.          irj 
But  (what  the  moft  his  youthful  bofom  warm'd, 
Heighten'd  each  hope,  and  every  fear  difarm'd^, 
On  a  high  dome  a  damfel  took  her  ftand, 
With  a  well-freighted  Jordan  in  her  hand, 
Where  curious  mixtures  ftrove  on  every  fide, 
And  folid<6  found  with  laxer  fluids  vied — 
Lo  !  on  his  crown  the  lotion  choice  and  large 
She  foufed — and  gave  at  once  a  full  difcharge. 
Not  Archimedes,  when,  with  confcious  pride, 
I've  found  it  out !  I've  found  it  out !  he  cried; 
Not  coftive  bardlings,  when  a  rhyme  conies  pat ; 
Not  grave  grimalkin,  when  fhe  fmells  a  rat ;    131 
Not  the  fhrewd  ftatefrnan,  when  he  fcents  a  plot ; 
Not  coy  Prudelia,  when  fhe  knows  what's  what; 
Not  our  own  hero,  when  ( O  matchkfs  luck)  [ 
His  keen  difcernment  found  anotherDuck ; 
With  fuch  ecftatic  tranfports  did  abound, 
As  what  he  finelt  and  faw,and  felt  and  fovndL, 


rT4  THE  WORKS 

"  Ye  god*, l  thank  ye  to  profufion  free, 

"  Thus  to  adorn,  and  thus  diftinguifh  me; 

•'  And  thou,  fair  Cloacina,  whom  I  ferve          140 

**  (If  a  defire  to  pleafe  is  to  deferve), 

"  To  you  I'll  confecrate  my  future  lays, 

"  And  on  the  fmootheft  paper  print  my  foft  ef-  ' 

"  fays." 

No  more  he  fpoke,  but  flightly  flid  along, 
Efcorted  by  the  miscellaneous  throng. 

And  now,  thou  goddefs,  whofe  fire-darting  eyes 
Defy  all  diftance,  and  tranfpierce  the  Ikies, 
To  men  the  councils  of  the  gods  relate, 
And  faithfully  defcribe  the  grand  debate. 

The  cloud-compelling  thund'rer,  at  whofe  call 
The  gods  alfembled  in  th'  ethereal  hall,  ij  i 

From  his  bright  throne  the  deities  addreft : 
u  What  impious  noife  difturbs  our  awful  reft, 
««  With  din  profane  afiaults  immortal  ears, 
"  And  jars  harfti  difcord  to  the  tuneful  fpheres  ? 
"  Nature,  my  handmaid,  yet  without  a  flain, 
"  Has  never  once  productive  prov*d  in  vain, 
*'  Till  now — luxuriant  and  regardlefs  quite 
"  Of  her  divine,  eternal  rule  of  right, 
ct  On  mere  privation  (he's  beftow'd  a  frame,      160 
"  And  dignify'd  a  nothing  with  a  name  ; 
*'  A  wretch  devoid  of  ufe,  of  fenfe  and  grace, 
*'  Th'  infolvent  tenant  of  encumber'd  fpace.  , 

"  Good  is  his  caufe,  and  juft  is  his  pretence," 
Replies  the  god  of  theft  and  eloquence. 
"  A  hand  mercurial,  ready  to  convey, 
•'  Ev'n  in  the  prefence  of  the  garifh  day ; 
**  The  work  an  Englifh  claffic  late  has  writ, 
"  And  by  adoption  be  the  fire  of  wit — 
•*  Sure  to  be,  this  is  to  be  fomething — fure,      170 
u  Next  to  perform,  'tis  glorious  to  procure. 
**  Small  was  th'  exertion  of  my  godlike  foul, 
"  When  privately  Apollo's  herd  1  ftole ; 
"  Compar'd  to  him,  who  braves  th'  all-feeing  fun, 
"  And  boldly  bids  th'  aflonifh'd  world  look  on." 

Her  approbation  Venus  next  opprefs'd, 
And  on  Hillario's  part  the  throne  addreft. 
"  If  there  be  any  praife  the  nails  to  pare, 
"  And  in  foft  ringlets  wreath  th'  elaftic  hair, 
"  In  talk  and  tea  to  trifle  time  away,  1 80 

«'  The  mien  fo  eafy,  and  the  drefs  fo  gay ! 
•*  Can  my  Hillario's  worth  remain  unknown, 
"  With  whom  my  Sylvia  trufts  herfelf  alone  ? 
«*  With  whom,  fo  pure,  fo  innocent  his  life, 
**  The  jealous  hufband  leaves  hi*  buxom  wife. 
"  What  though  he  ne'er  aflunie  the  poft  of  Mars, 
"  By  me  difbanded  from  all  amorous  wars ; 
"  His  fancy  (if  not  perfon)  he  employs, 
«  And  oft  ideal  countefies  enjoys ; 
"  Though  hard  his  heart,  yet  beauty  (hall  controul, 
"  And  fweeten  all  the  rancour  of  his  foul;        191 
«  While  his  black  felf,  Florinda  'ever  near, 
•*  Shows  like  a  diamond  in  an  Ethiop's  ear." 
When   Pallas,  thus :    "  Ceafe,   ye  immortals, 

"  ceafe, 

*«  Nor  rob  ferene  ftupidity  of  peace  : 
*'  Should  Jove  himfelf,  in  calculation  mad, 
«'  Still  negatives  to  blank  negations  add, 
"  How  could  the  barren  cyphers  ever  breed  ? 
*  But  nothing  ftill  from  nothing  would  proceed  j 


OF  SMART. 

Raife,  or  deprefs,  or  magnify,  or  blame,         *o0 
Inanity  will  ever  be  the  fame." 
"  Not  fo  (fays  Phcebus)  my  celeftial  friend, 
Ev'n  blank  privation  has  its  ufe  and  end; 
How  fweetly  fliadows  recommend  the  light, 
And  darknefs  renders  my  own  beams  more 

"  bright ! 

How  rife  from  filth  the  violet  and  rofe  ! 
From  emptinefs  how  fofteft  muGc  flows ! 
How  abfencc  to  pofleflion  adds  a  grace, 
And  modeft  vacancy  to  all  gives  place ! 
Contrafted  when  fair  nature's  works  we  fpy, 
More   they  allure  the  mind,   and  more  they 
"  charm  the  eye.  an 

So  from  Hillario  fome  effect  may  fpring, 
Ev'n  him,  that  flight  penumbra  of  a  thing." 
Morpheus  at  length  in  the  debate  awoke, 
And  drtowfily  a  few  dull  words  he  fpoke— 
Deckr'd  Hillario  was  the  friend  of  eafe, 
And  had  a  foporific  pow'r  to  pleafe  ; 
Once  more  Hillario  he  pronounc'd  with  pain, 
But  at  the  very  found  was  lull'd  to  fleep  again. 

Momus,  the  laft  of  all,  in  merry  mood,          22* 
As  moderator  in  th'  affembly  ftood, 
'  Ye  laughter-loving  pow'rs,  ye  gods  of  mirth, 
'  What !  not  regard  my  deputy  on  earth  ? 
'  Whofe  chemic  fltill  turns  brafs  to  gold  with  eafc, 
'  And  out  of  Gibber  forges  Socrates; 
;<  Whofe  genius  makes  confiftencies  to  fight, 
;<  And  forms  an  union  betwixt  wrong  and  right ; 
;'  Who  (five  whole  days  in  fenfelefs  malice  paft)  . 
•'  Repents,  and  is  religious  at  the  laft  5 
'•'  A  paltry  pray'r,  that  in  no  parts  fuceeeds,     430 
"  A  hackney  writer,  whom  no  mortal  reads. 
"  The  trumpet  of  a  bafe  deferted  caufe, 
"  Damn'd  to  the  fcandal  of  his  own  applaufe. 
"  While  thus  he  ftands'a  general  wit  confftft, 
"  With  all  thefe  titles,  all  thefe  talents  bleft, 
"  Be  he  by  Jove's  authority  aflign'd 
"  The  univerfal  butt  of  all  mankind." 

So  fpake,  and  ceas'd  the  joy-exciting  god, 
And  Jove  immediate  gaveth'affenting  nod, 
When  fame  her  adamantine  trump  uprear'd,     24* 
And  thus  th'  irrevocable  doom  declar'd, 

"  While  in  the  vale  perennial  fountains  flow, 
"  And  fragrant  zephyrs  mufically  blow ; 
"  While  the  majeftic  fea,  from  pole  to  pole, 
"  In  horrible  magnificence  fliall  roll; 
"  While  yonder  glorious  canopy  on  high 
"  Shall  overhang  the  curtains  of  the  flcy ; 
"  While  the  gay  feafons  their  due  courle  fliall  run, 
"  Rul'd  by  the  brilliant  ftars  and  golden  fun ; 
'  While  wit  and  fool  antagonifts  fliall  be,          450 
'  And  fenfe,  and  tafte,  and  nature,  fliall  agree ; 
'  While  love  fliall  live,  and  rapture  fliall  rejoice, 
'  Fed  by  the  notes  of  Handel,  Arne,  and  Boyce ; 
'  While  with  joint  force  o'er  humour's  droll  do- 

"  main, 

"  Cervantes,  Fielding,  Lucian,  Swift,  fliall  reign ; 
"  While  thinking  figures  from  the  canvafs  ftart, 
"  And  Hogartli  is  the  Garrick  of  his  art ; 
"  So  long  in  grofs  ftupidity's  extreme 
"  Shall  H— — 11,  th'  arch-dunce,  remain  o'er  cvc- 
«c  ry  dunce  fupreme.'' 


HOTES  ON  THE  HILLIAD. 


NOTES  ON  THE  HILLIAD. 


Vcr.  I.  As  the  defign  of  heroic  poetry  is  to  ce 
lebrate  the  virtues  and  noble  achievements  of 
truly  great  perfonages,  and  conduct  them  through 
a  feries  of  hardfliips  to  the  completion  of  their 
wifhes,  fo  the  little  epic  delights  in  reprefenting, 
with  an  ironical  drollery,  the  mock  qualities  of 
thofe,  who,  for  the  benefit  of  the  laughing  part  of 
mankind,  are  pleafed  to  become  egregioufly  ri 
diculous,  in  an  affected  imitation  of  the  truly  re 
nowned  worthies  above-mentioned.  Hence  our 
poet  calls  upon  Momus,  at  the  firft  opening  of  his 
poem,  to  convert  his  hero  into  a  jeft.  So  that  in 
the  prefent  cafe,  it  cannot  be  faid,  facit  indignafio 
veifum,  but,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expreflion, 
facit  titillatio  -verfum  ;  which  may  ferve  to  {how  our 
author's  temper  of  mind  is  fre«  from  rancour,  or 
ill-nature.  Notwithftanding  the  great  incentives 
he  has  had  to  prompt  him  to  this  undertaking,  he 
is  not  actuated  by  the  fpirit  of  revenge ;  and  to 
check  the  Tallies  of  fancy  and  humurous  invention, 
lie  further  invokes  the  goddefs  Themis,  to  admi- 
nifter  ftrict  poetic  juflice. 

Ver.  2.  Several  cavils  have  been  raifed  againfl 
this  paffage.  Quinbus  Fleftrin,  the  unborn  poet, 
is  of  opinion  that  it  is  brought  in  merely  to  eke  out 
a  verfe ;  but  though  in  many  points  I  am  inclined 
to  look  upon  this  critic  as  irrefragable,  I  muft  beg 
leave  at  prefent  to  appeal  from  his  verdict :  and, 
though  Horace  lays  it  down  as  a  rule  not  to  ad 
mire  any  thing,  I  cannot  help  enjoying  fo  pleafing 
an  operation  of  the  mind  upon  this  occafion.  We 
are  here  prefented  with  a  grand  idea,  no  lefs  than 
Jupiter  fhaking  his  fides  and  the  heavens  at  the 
fame  time.  The  Pagan  thunderer  has  often  been 
faid  to  agitate  the  pole  with  a  nod,  which  in  my 
mind  gives  too  awful  an  image,  whereas  the 
one  in  queftion  conveys  an  idea  of  him  in  good 
humour,  and  confirms  what  Mr.  Orator  Henley 
fays  in  his  excellent  tracts,  that  "  the  deity  is  a 
"  joyous  being." 

Mart  inns  Macularius, 
M.  D.  Jte%.  Soc.  Bur.  We.  Soc. 
Ver.  6.  Much  puzzle  hath  been  occafionec 
among  the  naturalifts  concerning  the  engraftment 
here  mentioned.  Hill's  Natural  Hiftory  of  Trees 
and  Plants,  vol.  51.  page  336.  faith  It  has  been 
frequently  attempted,  but  that  the  tree  of  dullnefs 
will  not  admit  any  fuch  inoculation.  He  adds  ii 
page  339,  that  he  himielf  tried  the  experiment  fo: 
two  years  fucceflively,  but  that  the  twig  of  laurel 
like  a  feather  in  the  Hate  of  electricity,  droopec 
and  died  the  moment  he  touched  it.  Notwith 
ftanding  this  authority,  it  is  well  known  that  thi 
operation  has  been  performed  by  feme  choice  fpl 
rits.  Erafmus,  in  m's  encomium  on  folly,  fhow 
how  it  may  be  accomplifhed ;  in  our  own  times 
Pope  and  Garth  found  means  to  do  the  fame  :  am 
tn  the  fequel  of  this  work,  we  make  ao  doubt  bu 


he  ftem  here  mentioned  will  bear  fome  luxuriant 
Sranch.es,  like  the  tree  in  Virgil, 

Nee  longum  tempus,  et  ino-ens 
Exiit  ad  Coelum  ramis  felicibus  arbo£ 
Miraturque  novas  froudes  et  non  fua  Poma. 

Ver.  8.  Pimp.]  An  old  Englifti  word  for  a  mca» 
ellow.  See  Chaucer  and  Spencer. 

Ibid.  Pctt.]  Quinbus  Fleftrin  faith,  with  his  ufual 
mportanct,  *;h.at  this  is  the  only  piece  of  jufticc 
done  to  our  hero  in  this  work.  To  this  aflents  the 
widow  at  Cuper'swho  it  feems  is  not  a  little  proud 
of  the  «  words  by  Dr.  Hill,  and  the  mufic  by 

Lewis  Granon,  Efq."  This  opinion  is  further 
confirmed  by  Major  England,  who  admires  the 
pretty  turns  on  Kitty,  and  Kate,  and  Catharine 
and  Katy,  but  from  thefe  venerable  authorities, 
judicious  reader,  you  may  boldly  diffent  Mtoperi- 
'o. 

Mart.  Mac. 

Ibid.  Pufcr.]  Of  this  talent  take  a  fpecimen.  la 

a  letter  to  nimfelf  he  faith  ;  "  you  have  difcovcred 

many  of  the  beauties  of  the  ancients;  they  are 

obliged  to  you ;  we  are  obliged  to  you  ;  were 

"  they  alive  they   would   thank  you ;    we  who 

"  are  alive  do  thank  you."     His  conftant  cuftom 

of  running  on  in  this  manner,    occafioned  the 

following  epigram, 

Hill  puffs  himfelf,  forbear  to  ehide ; 

An  infect  vile  and  mean, 
Muft  firft,  he  knows,  be  magnify'd 

Before  it  can  be  fecn. 

Ibid.  'Potbecary,  Play'r.]  For  both  thefe,  i<tie 
Woodward's  letter,  pa/fun. 

Ver.  10.  The  allufion  here  fcems  to  be  take* 
from  Ovid,  who  defcribes  the  earth  fixed  in  the 
air,  by  its  own  ftupidity,  or  vu  inertia  ;— 

Pendebat  in  aeretellus, 
Pondcribus  librata  fuis. 

But,  reader,  dilate  your  imagination  to  take  in  the 
much  greater  idea  our  poet  here  prefents  to  you : 
confider  the  immenfe  inanity  of  fpace,  and  then 
the  comparative  nothingnefs  of  the  globe,  and  you. 
may  attain  an  adequate  conception  of  our  hcro'i 
reputation,  and  the  mighty  bafis  it  ftands  upon. 
It  is  worth  obferying  here  that  our  author,  quaft 
aliud  agent,  difplays  at  one  touch  of  his  pen  more 
knowledge  of  the  planetary  fyftem,  than  is  to  be 
found  in  all  the  volumes  of  the  mathematicians. 

This  note  is  partly  by  Macularius,  and  partly 
by  Mr.  Jinkyns,  Philomath. 

Ver.  13.  Obfcrve,  gentle  reader,  how  tenderly 
our  author  treats  his  hero  throughout  his  whol» 
poem  ;  he  does  not  here  impute  his  ridiculous  con« 
duct,  and  all  that  train  of  errors  which  have  at 
tended  hjs  confumn&tc  vanitr,  to  his  own  pcrvcrfe 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


inclination;  but  with  greater  candour  infinuates 
that  fosme  demon,  foe  to  Hillario's  repofe,  firfl 
mifled  his  youthful  imagination  ;  which  is  a  kind 
of  apology  for  his  life  and  character.  He  is  not  the 
only  one  who  has  been  feduced  to  his  ruin  in  this 
manner.  We  read  it  in  Pope  : 
Some  demon  whifper'd — Viflo  have  a  tafte. 
Hence,  then,,  arife  our  hero's  misfortunes;  and 
that  the  demon  above  mentioned  was  a  foe  to 
truth,  will  appear  from  Hillario's  notable  talent 
at  mifreprefenting  circumflances,  for  which  vide 
all  the  Infpe&ors. 

Ver.  17.  This  feems  to  be  wrote  with  an  eye  to 
a  beautiful  paflage  in  a  very  elegant  poem ; 
Y<  gods  annihilate  both  fpace  and  time, 
Andmake  two  lovers  happy. 

The  requeft  is  'extremely  modeft;  and  I  really  won 
der  it  was  never  complied  witb  ;  but  it  muft  be 
faid,  in  favour  of  Mr.  Smart,  that  he  is  flill  more 
reafonable  in  bis  demand;  and  it  appears  by  the 
alteration  in  the  ftyle,  that  his  fcheme  may  be  re 
duced  to  practice,  though  the  other  is  mighty  fine 
in  theory.  -  The  Infpector  is  of  this  opinion,  and 
fo  is  Monfieur  de  Scaizau. 

Ver.  26.  Our  author  has  been  extremely  negli 
gent  upon  thisoccafion,  and  has  indolently  omit 
ted  an  opportunity  of  difplaying  his  talent  for  po 
etic  imagery.  Homer  has  defcribed  the  fhitld  of 
Achilles  with  ail  the  art  of  his  imagination  ;  Virgil 
has  followed  him  in  this  point ;  and,  indeed,  both 
he  and  Ovid:  feem  to  be  delighted  when  they  have 
either  a  picture  to  defcribe,or  fome  reprefentation 
in  the  labours  of  the  loom.  Hence  arifes  a  double 
delight ;  we  admire  the  work  of  the  artificer,  and 
the  poet's  account  of  it ;  and  this  pleafure  Mr. 
Smart  might  have  imprefled  upon  his  readers  in 
this  paflage,  as  many  tilings  were  wrought  into 
the  tapeftry  here  mentioned.  In  one  part,  our 
"  hero  was  adminiftering  to  a  patient,  "  and  the 
41  frefh  vomit  ru'ns  for  ever  green."  The  theatre  at 
May-fair,  made  a  confpicuous  figure  in  the  piece  ; 
the  pit  feemed  to  rife  in  an  uproar ;  the  gallery 
opened  its  rude  throats ;  and  apples,  oranges,  and 
halfpence,  flew  about  our  hero's  ears.  The  Mall 
in  St.  James's  Park  was  difplayed  in  a  beautiful 
vifta;  and  you  might  perceive  Hillario,  with  his 
janty  air,  waddling  along  in  Mary-le-Bone  Fields, 
he  was  dancing  round  a  glow-worm;  and,  finally, 
the  Rotunda  at  Ranelagh  filled  the  eye  with  its 
magnificence;  and,  in  a  corner  of  it  flood  a  hand- 
fome  young  fellow,  holding  a  perfonage,  dreffed 
hi  blue  filk  by  the  ear ;  "  the  very  worfted  ftill 
•*  looked  black  and  blue."  There  were  many  other 
curious  figures ;  but  out  of  a  fhameful  lazinefs  has 
our  poet  omitted  them.  Polymetus  Cantubrigicnfs. 
Ver.  44.  This  paflage  feems  to  be  an  imitation 
of  the  Sibyl,  in  the  fixth  book  of  Virgil. 

Subito  non  vultus,  non  color  unus 
Nee  comtce  manfere  comae 

and  is  admirably  expreflive  of  the  witch's  prophetic 
fury,  and  ufhers  in  the  prediction  of  Hillario's 
fortune  with  proper  folemnity. 

This  note  is  by  one  of  the  jEolifts,  mentioned 
with  honour  in  the  tale  of  a  tub. 

Ver.  58.  When  the  difteniper  firft  raged  among 
the  horned  cattle,  the  king  and  council  ordered  a 


certain  officer  to  fuperintend  the  beads,  and  to  df- 
redt  that  fuch  as  were  found  to  be  infected,  fhould 
be  knocked  in  the  head.  This  officer  was  called 
the  Infpedtor ;  and  from  thence  I  would  venture  to 
lay  a  wager,  our  hero  derived  his  title. 

Sent  ley,  junior  t 

Vf.r.  6i.  It  is  extremely  probable,  that  our  poet 
is  intimately  acquainted  with  the  claffics ;  he  feems 
frequently  to  have  them  in  his  eye  ;  and  fuch  an 
air  of  enthufiafhi  runs  through  his  whole  fpeech, 
that  the  learned  reader  may  eafily  perceive  he  has 
taken  fire  at  fome  of  the  prophecies  in  Homer; and 
Virgil.  The  whole  is  delivered  in  breaks  and 
unconnected  tranfitions,  which  denote  vehement 
emotions  in  the  mind ;  and  the  hint  here  concern 
ing  the  Irifh,is  perfectly  in  the  manner  of  all  great 
epic  poets,  who  generally  give  the  reader  fome 
idea  of  what  is  to  enfue,  without  unfolding  the 
whole.  Thus  we  find  in  Virgil : 

Bella,  horrida  bella, 

Et  Tybrim  multo  fpumantem  fanguine  ccrno. 
And  again, 

Alius  Latio  jam  partus  Achilles. 

And  in  the  fequel  of  this  work,  I  believe  it  will 
be  found,  that  as  ./Lneas  had  another  Achilles ;  fo 
our  hero  has  had  as  formidable  an  adverfary. 

Ver.  69.  The  ingenious  Mr.  L der  fays, 

that  the  following  paffage  is  taken  from  a  work, 
which  he  intends  jhortly  to  publifh  by  fubfcrip- 
tion ;  and  he  has  now  in  the  prefs  a  pamphlet, 
called,  "  Mr.  Smart's  Ufe  aad  Abufe  of  the  Mo* 
•'  dcrns."  But,  with  his  leave,  this  paflage  is  part 
ly  imitated  from  Cardinal  Wolfey's  fpeech,  and 
from  Othello. 

Ver.  84.  The  train  here  defcribed  is  worthy  of 
Hillario;  pertnefs,  dulliiefs,  fcandal,  malice,  &c. 
being  the  very  conftituents  of  an  hero  for  the  mock 
heroic  :  and  it  is  not  without  propriety,  thatnon- 
lenfe  is  introduced  with  the  epithet  neutral ;  non- 
fenfe  being  like  a  Dutchman,  not  only  in  an  un 
meaning  ftupidity,  but  in  the  art  of  preferving 
a  ffrift  neutrality.  This. neutrality  may  be  aptly 
explained  by  the  following  epigram  . 

Word -valiant  wight,  thou  great  he-fhrew, 

That  wrangles  to  no  end ; 
Since  nonfenfe  is  nor  falfe  nor  true, 

Thou'rt  no  man's  foe  or  friend. 

Ver.  85.  This  lady  is  defcribed  with  two  books 
in  her  hand ;  but  our  author  choofing  to  preferve 
a  neutrality,  though  not  a  nonfenfical  one,  upon 
this  occafion,  the  Tories  are  at  liberty  to  fill  up  this 
blank  with  Rapin,  Burnet,  or  ajiy  names  that  will 
fit  the  niches ;  and  the  Whigs  may,  if  they  pleafe, 
infert  Echard,  Higgons,  &c.  But'  why,  exclaim- 
eth  a  certain  critic,  fhould  falfehood  be  given  to 
Hillario  ?  Eecaufe,  replieth  Macularius,  he  has 
given  many  fpecimens  of  his  talents  that  way.  Our 
hero  took  it  into  his  head  fome  time  Cnce  to  tell 
the  world  that  he  caned  a  gentleman,  whom  he 
called  by  the  name  of  Mario :  what  degree  of 
faith  the  town  gave  him  upon  tj(iat  occafion,  may 
be  collected  from  the  two  following  lines,  by  * 
certain  wag,  who  fhall  be  namelefs. 

To  beat  one  man  great  Hill  was  fattdL; 
What  man  ?  a  man  that  he  cieated. 


NOTES   ON   THE  HILLIAD. 


The  following  epigram  may  be  alfo  properly 
inferted  here : 

What  H— 11  one  day  fays,  he  the  next  does  deny, 
And  candidly  tells  us— 'tis  all  a  damn'd  lie  :  [ed ; 
Dear  Doctor — this  candour  from  you  is  not  want- 
For  why  fliould  you  own  it  ?  'tis  taken  for  granted. 
Ver.  91.  Our  hero  is  as  remarkable  for  his  en 
comiums,  where  it  is  his  intereft  to  commend,  as 
for  his  abufe,   where  he  has  taken  a  diflike ;  but 
from  the  latter  he  is  eafily  to  he  bought  off,  as 
may  be  feen  in  the  following  excellent  epigram  : 
An  author's  writings  oft  reveal, 
Where  now  and,  then  he  takes  a  meal. 
Invite  him  once  a  week  to  dinner, 
He'll  faint  you  though  the  vileft  finner, 
Have  you  a  fmiling,  vacant  face, 
He  gives  you  foul,  expreffion,  grace. 
Swears  what  you  will,  unfwears  it  too  ; 
What  will  not  beef  and  pudding  do  ? 

Ver.  loj.  No,  the  devil  a  bit !  I  am  the  only 
perfon  that  can  do  that !  My  poems,  written  at 
fifteen,  were  done  without  the  afiiftance  of  any 
mufe;  and,  better  than  all  Smart's  poetry.  The 
mufes  are  itrumpets;  they  frequently  give  an  in 
tellectual  gonorrhoea;  court  debt  not  paid  ;  I'll  ne 
ver  be  poet  laureat ;  coup  de  grace  unanfwerable; 
our  foes  (hall  knuckle;  five  pounds  to  any  bilhop 
that  will  equal  this ;  Cum  guiacum  for  Latin  lig 
num  vitce  ;  Adam  the  firft  Dutchman  ;  victorious 
ftroke  for  Old  England  ;  tweedle-dum  and  twee- 
dle-dee. 

Oratory-Rigbt-Reafon-Chapel,  Saturday  l$th 

Jamtary,  and  old  ftyle  for  ever. 
Ver.  ic 8.  Jargon  is  here  properly  introduced 
graving  our  hero's  titles,  which  are  admirably 
brought  into  verfe  ;  but  the  gentleman  who  wrote 
the  laft  note,  Mr.  Orator  H ley,  takes  um 
brage  at  this  paffage,  and  exclaimeth  to  the  fol 
lowing  effect :  "  Jargon  is  meant  for  me."  There 
is  more  mufic'  in  a  peal  of  marrow  bones  and 
cleavers,  than  in  thefe  verfes.— I  am  a  logician 
upon  fundamentals,  a  rationalist  lover  of  man- 
kande,  Glaftonberry  thorn — huzza,  boys  ! — Wit  a 
vivacious  command  of  all  objects  and  ideas. — I  am 
the  only  wit  in  Great  Britain.  See  Oratory  Tracts, 
&c.  10,036. 

Patience,  good  Mr.  Orator !  We  are  not  at  lei- 
fure  to  arffwer  thee  at  prefent,  but  muft  obferve, 
that  Jargon  has  done  more  for  our  hero,  than  ever 
did  the  fociety  at  Bordeaux,  as  will  appear  from 
the  following-  extract  of  a  letter  fent  to  Martinus 
Macularius,  by  a  fellow  of  that  fociety  : 

J'ai  bien  re$u  la  lettre,  dont  vous  m'avez  fait 
Phonneiir  le  lame  pafle.  A  1'egarde  de  ce  Mon- 
fieur  Hillario,  qui  fevantefi  prodigieufement  chez 
vous,  je  ne  trouve  pas  qu'il  eft  enrolle  dans  notre 
fociete,  et  foa  nom  eft  parfaitment  inconnu  iei. 
J'attends  de  vous  nouvelles,  Stc. 

Ver.  114. 

The  important  objects  of  his  future  fpeculations  \ 
O  would  the  fons  of  men  once  think  their  eyes 
And  reafon  given  'em  but  to  ftudy  flies ! 

M.  Macularius. 

Ver.  117.  This  paffage  may  be  properly  illul- 
trated  by  a  recollection  ol  two  lines  in  Mr.  Pope's 
EfTay  on  Griticifm. 


»57 


As  things  feem  large  which  we  through  mifts  de- 
Dullnefs  is  very  apt  to  magnify.  (fcrT> 

Ver.  119.  Not  the  black  lion  in  Salifbury-court' 
Fleet-ftreet,  where  the  New  Craftfman  is  publitol 
ed,  nor  yet  the  red  lion  at  Brentford,  but  the 
beaft  of  the  Bedford,  who  may  truly  be  faid  to 
have  been  alive,  when  animated  by  Addifon  and 
Steele,  though  now  reduced  to  the  ftate  of  block, 
headifm,  which  is  fo  confpicuous  in  his  mafter. 
Feculnus,  inutile  lignum.  Bentiey,  junior. 

Ver.  127.  Reader,  do  not  turn  up  your  nofe  at 
this  paffage.  It  is  much  more  decent  than  Pope's. 
Recollect  what  Swift  fays,  that  a  nice  man  has 
filthy  ideas;  and  let  it  be  confidered,  thisdifcharge 
may  have  the  fame  effect  upon  our  hero,  as  a  fimi- 
lar  accident  had  upon  a  perfon  of  equal  parts  and 
genius. 

Renew'd  by  ordure's  fympathetic  force, 
As  oil'd  by  magic  juices  for  the  courfe, 
Vig'rous  he  rifes  from  th'  effluvia  ftrong. 
Imbibes  new  life,  and  fcours  and  ftinks  alen£. 

Pope's  Dunciad. 

Ver.  128.  As  foon  as  the  philofopher,  here  men 
tioned,  difcovered  the  modern  fave-all,and  the  new 
invented  patent  blackball,  he  threw  down  his  pipe, 
and  ran  all  along  Piccadilly,  with  his  fliirt  out  of 
his  breeches,  crying  out  like  a  madman,  lu^rxa  '. 
W^KV.  '.  which,  in  modern  Englifli,  is,  the  job  is 
done  1  the  job  is  done  !  fetus  Schol. 

Ver.  135.  Hillario,  having  a  mind  to  celebrate 
and  recommend  a  genius  to  the  world,  compares 
him  to  Stephen  Duck;  and,  at  the  clofe  of  a  late 
Infpector,  cries  out,  "  I  have  found  another  Duck, 
but  who  mall  find  a  Caroline  ?" 

Ve.r.  145.  Our  hero,  for  once,  has  fpoke  truth 
of  himfelf,  for  which  we  could  produce  the  tefti- 
monies  of  feveral  perfons  of  diftinction.  Bath  and 
Tunbridge-wells  have,  upon  many  occasions,  tef- 
tified  their  gratitude  to  him  on  this  head,  as  his 
works  have  been  always  found  of  fingular  ufe 
with  the  waters  of  thofe  places.  To  this  effect  alfo, 
fpeaketh  that  excellent  comedian,  Mr.  Henry 
Woodward,  in  an  ingenious  parody-~oa  bufy,  cu. 
rious,  thirfty  fly,  Stc. 

Bufy,  curious,  hungry  Hill, 
Write  of  me,  and  write  your  fill. 
Freely  welcome  to  abufe, 
Couldft  thou  tire  thy  railing  mufe. 
Make  the  moft  of  this  you  can  ; 
Strife  is  Ihort,  and  life's  a  fpan. 

Both  alike  your  works  and  pay, 
Haften  quick  to  their  decay  ; 
This  a  trifle,  thofe  no  more, 
Though  repeated  to  threefcore. 
Threescore  volumes,  when  they're  writ, 

Will  appear  at  laft  b 1. 

Ver.  146.  This  invocation  is  perfectly  in  the 
fpirit  of  ancient  poetry.  If  I  may  ufe  Milton's 
words,  our  author  here  prefumes  into  the  heavens 
an  earthly  gueft,  and  draws  empyreal  air.  Hence 
he  calls  upon  the  goddtfs  to  affift  his  itrain,  while 
he  relates  the  councils  of  the  gods.  Virgil,  when 
the  plot  thickens  upon  his  hands,  as  Mr.  Byes  has 
it,  has  offered  up  his  prayers  a  fecond  tim.  to  the 
mufe ;  and  he  feems  to  labour  under  the  weight 
of  his  fubject,  whea  te  cries  out ;  '  ±' 


THE   WORKS    OF  SMART. 


Majusopusmoveo,major  reram  mihi  nafciturordo. 
This  is  the  cafe  at  prefent  with  the  writer  of  ths 
Hilliad  ;  and  this  peace  of  machinery  will  evince 
the  abfurdity  of  that  Lucretian  doctrine,  which 
afferts,  that  the  gods  are  wrapped  up  in  a  lazy  in 
dolence,  and  do  not  trouble  themfeives  about  hu 
man  affairs.  The  words  of  Lucretius  are : 

Omnis  enim  per  fe  divum  natura  neceffs  eft 
Immortali  sevo  fumrna  cum  pace  fruatur, 
Senota  a  rebus  noftris,  disjunct aque  longe. 
It  is  now  recommended  to  the  editors  of  the  Anti- 
Lucretius,  to  make  ufe  of  this  inftance  to  the  con 
trary,  in  the  next  publication  of  this  work. 

M..  Macularius. 

Ver.  163.  Jupiter's  fpeech  is  full  of  pomp  and 
Iblemnity,  and  is  finely  clofed  by  a  defcription  of 
our  hero,  who  is  here  faid  to  take  up  a  place  in 
the  creation  to  no  purpofe.  What  a  different  no 
tion  of  the  end  of  his  exiftence  has  Hillario,  from 
what  we  find  delivered  by  the  excellent  Longinus, 
in  his  Treatife  on  the  Sublime.  The  paffage  is  ad 
mirable,  tranflated  by  the  author  of  The  Plea- 
fures  of  Imagination.  "The  godlike  geniufes  of 
"  Greece  were  well  aflured  that  nature  had  not 
*'  intended  man  for  a  low  fpirited  or  ignoble  be- 
**  ing ;  but  bringing  us  into  life,  :-nd  the  midft  of 
•'  this  wide  univerfe,  as  before  a  multitude  affem- 
"  bled  at  i'ome  heroic  folemnity,  that  we  might 
"  be  fpeclators  of  all  her  magnificence,  and  can- 
"  didates  high  in  emulation  for  the  prize  of  glory; 
*'  flie  has  therefore  implanted  in  our  fouls  an  in- 
•'  extinguifliable  love  of  every  thing  great  and  ex- 
'*  alted,  of  every  thing  which  appears  divine  be- 
*'  yond  our  comprehenfion.  Hence,  by  the  very 
"  propenfity  of  nature,  we  are  led  to  admire,  not 
"  iittle  fprings  or  (hallow  rivulets,  however  clear 
"  and  delicious,  but  the  Nile,  the  Rhine,  the  Da- 
"  nube,  and  much  more  than  all  the  ocean."  In- 
ftead  of  acting  upon  this  plan,  Hillario  is  employ 
ed  in  purfuit  of  infects  in  Kenfington  gardens :  and 
as  this  is  all  the  gratitude  he  pays  for  the  being 
conferred  upon  him,  he  is  finely  termed  an  infol- 
vent  tenant. 

Ver.  169.  Our  hero  has  taken  an  entire  letter 
from  Sir  Thomas  Fitz-O(borne,  and,  with  inimi 
tably  effrontery,  publiflied  it  in  his  Infpector,  No 
339,  as  a  production  of  his  own.  We  are  inform 
ed  that,  having  been  taxed  with  this  affair,  he  de 
clares,  with  a  great  deal  of  art,  that  it  was  giver 
him  by  another  perfon,  to  which  all  we  have  to 
fay  is,  that  the  receiver  is  as  bad  as  the  thief. 

M.  Macularius. 

Ver.  171.  If  our  author  eould  be  thought  ca 
pable  of  punning,  I  fliould  imagine  that  the  wore 
frocure,  in  this  place,  is  made  ufe  of  in  prefe 
rence  to  an  appellation  given  to  our  hero  in  the 
commencement  of  this  poem,  iiiy,.  a  pimp;  but  the 
reader  will  pleafe  torecollect,  that  the  term  pimp  i 
not  in  that  paffage  ufed  in  its  modern  acceptation 
Ver.  172.  Not  fo  faft,  good  poet,  cries  out  in 
this  place  M.  Macularius.  We  do  not  find  that 
Hillario,  upon  any  occaGon  whatever,  has  been 
charged  with  ftealing  Apollo's  quiver;  and  certain 
it  is,  that  thofe  arrows,  which  he  has  (hot  at  al 
the  world,  never  were  taken  from  thence.  But  o 


Mercury  it  is  recorded  by  Horace,  that  he  really 

did  deceive  the  god  of  wit  in  this  manner  : 

Te  bovis  olim  nifi  reddidiffes 

i'er  dolum  arnotas,  puerum  minaci 

Voce  dum  terret  viduus  pharetra.    Rljit  Apollo. 

Ver.  176.  Venus  rifes  in  this  affembly  quite  in 
.he  manner  attributed  to  her  in  the  ancient  po 
ets  ;  thus  we  fee  in  Virgil,  that  (he  is  all  raildnefs, 

nd,  at  every  word,  breathes  ambrofia  : 

At  non  Venus  aurea  contra, 

"auca  refert^— — 

She  is  to  fpeak  upon  this  occafion,  as  well  as  in 
the  cafe  produced  from  the  jEneid,  in  favour  of  a 
much  loved  fon ;  though,  indeed,  we  cannot  fay 
that  flie  has  been  quite  fo  kind  to  Hillario,  as  for 
merly  (he  was  to  ./Eneas,  it  being  evident  that 
flie  has  not  beftowed  upon  him  that  luftre  of  youth 
ful  bloom,  and  that  liquid  radiance  of  the  eye, 
which  flie  is  faid  to  have  given  the  pious  Trojan  : 

Lumenque  jucentae 

Purpureum,  et  laetos  oculis  afflavit  honores. 

On  the  contrary,  Venus  here  talks  of  his  black 
felf ;  which  makes  it  fufpected,  that  (he  recon 
ciled  herfelf  to  this  hue,  out  of  a  compliment  to 
Vulcan,  of  whom  (he  has  frequent  favours  to  foli- 
cit :  and,  perhaps,  it  may  appear  hereafter,  that 
flie  procured  a  fword  for  our  hero  from  the  cele(ti- 
al  blackfraith's  forge.  One  thing  is  not  a  little 
furprifing,  that,  while  Venus  fpeaks  on  the  fide 
of  Hillario,  (lie  fhould  omk  the  real  utility  he  has 
been  of  to  the  caufe  of  love,  by  his  experience  as 
an  apothecary ;  of  which  he  himfelf  has  told  us, 
feveral  have  profited  ;  and  it  fhould  be  remember 
ed  at  the  fame  time,  that  he  actually  has  employ 
ed  his  perfon  in  the  fervice  of  Venus,  and  has  noxfr 
an  offspring  of  the  amorous  congrefs.  It  is,  more 
over,  notorious,  that  having,  in  bis  elegant  lan 
guage,  tafted  of  the  cool  ftream,  he  was  ready  to 
jjunge  in  again  }  and  therefore  publicly  fet  him 
felf  up  for  a  wife,  and  thus  became  a  fortune-hun 
ter  with  his  pen  ;  and  if  he  has  failed  in  his  de- 
fign,  it  is  becaufe  the  ladies  do,  not  approve  the 
new  fcherae  of  propagation,  without  the  know 
ledge  of  a  man,  which  Hillario  pretended  to  ex 
plain  fo  handsomely  in  the  Lucina  fine  concubitu. 
But  the  truth  is,  he  never  wrote  a  fyllable  of  this 
book,  though  he  tranfcribed  part  of  it,  and  (how- 
ed  it  to  a  bookfeller,  in  order  to  procure  a  higher 
price  for  his  productions.  Qulnbus  Fleftrin. 

Ver.  193.  There  is  neither  morality,  nor  inte 
grity,  nor  unity,  nor  univerfality  in  this  poem. 
The  author  of  it  is  Smart.  I  hope  to  fee  a  Smar- 
tead  publiflied ;  I  had  my  pocket  picked  the 
other  day,  as  I  was  going  through  Paul's  Church 
yard,  and  I  firmly  believe  it  was  this  little. au 
thor,  as  the  man  who  can  pun,  will  alfo  pick  a 
pocket.  Jobn  Dennis,  junior. 

Ver.  acr.  Our  author  does  not  here  mean  to 
lift  himfelf  among  the  difputants  concerning  pure 
fpace,  but  the  doctrine  he  would  advance  is,  that 
nothing  can  come  from  nothing.  In  fo  unbeliev 
ing  an  age  as  this,  it  is  poffible  this  tenet  may  not 
be  received;  but  if  the  reader  has  a  mind  to  fee 
it  handled  at  large,  he  may  find  it  in  Rumgus- 


NOTES  ON  THE  HILLIAD. 


tius,  vol.  xvi.  pagina  tool.  "  De  hac  re  multum 
"  et  turpiter  hallucinantur  fcriptores  tam  exerti 
"  quam  domeftici.  Spatium  enim  abfolutum  et 
*'  relativum  debent  diltingui,  priufquam  diftincta 
*  effe  poffunt ;  neque  ulla  alia  regula  ad  normam 
"  rei  metaphyficse  quadrabit,  quam  triplex  con- 
"  fideratio  de  fubftantii  inanitatis,  five  entitate 
"  nihili,  quas  quidem  confideratio  triplex  ad  unam 
**  reduci  potelt  neceffitattm;  nempe  idem  fpati- 
"  um  de  quo  jam  fatis  dictum  ell."  This  opinion 
is  further  corroborated  by  the  tracts  of  the  fociety 
at  Bourdcaux.  "  Selon  la  dirtinction  entre  ks 
*'  chofes,  qai  n'ont  pas  de  difference,  il  nous  faut 
"  abfoiament  agreer,  que  les  idees,  qui  ont  fi  appe" 
"  1'imagination,  peuvent  bien  etre  effacees,  pour- 
"  vu  qu'on  ne  f'avife  pas  d'oublier  cet  efpace  im- 
"  menfe,  qui  environne  toute  la  nature,  et  le  fyf- 
"  teme  des  etoiles."  Among  our  countrymen,  I 
do  not  know  any  body  that  has  handled  this  fub 
ject  fo  well  as  the  accurate  Mr.  Fielding,  in  his 
Effay  upon  Nothing,  which  the  reader  may  find 
in  the  firft  volume  of  his  Mifcellanies ;  but  with 
all  due  deference  to  his  authority,  we  beg  leave 
to  diffent  from  one  aflertion  in  the  faid  eff*y ;  the 
refidence  of  nothing  might  in  his  time  hav«  been 
in  a  critic's  head  ;  and  we  are  apt  to  believe  that 
there  is  a  fomething  like  nothing  in  moft  critics 
heads  to  this  day  ;  and  this  falfe  appearance  mif- 
led  the  excellent  metaphyiician  juft quoted;  for 
nothing,  in  its  furis  naturalibus,  as  Gravefend 
defcribes  it  in  his  Experimental  Philofophy,  does 
fubfift  nowhere  fo  properly  at  prefent  as  in  the 
pericranium  of  our  hero.  Mart .  Macularius. 

Ver.  207.  "  Perfons  of  moft  genius,"  fays  the 
Infpector,  Friday,  Jan.  26".  Number  587,  "  have, 
"  in  general,  been  the  fondeft  of  muiic.  Sirlfaac 
"  Newton  was  remarkable  for  his  affection  for 
**  harmony ;  he  was  fcarce  ever  miffed  at  the  be- 
"  ginning  of  any  performance,  but  was  feldom 
"  leen  at  the  end  of  it."  And,  indeed,  of  this  opi- 
iiion  is  M.  Macularius :  and  he  further  adds,  that 
if  Sir  Ifaac  was  ftill  living,  it  is  probable  he  would 
be  at  the  beginning  of  the  Infpector's  next  fong 
at  Cuper's,  but  that  he  would  not  be  at  the  end 
Of  it,  may  be  proved  to  a  mathematical  demon- 
Irration,  though  Hillario  takes  fo  much  pleafure  in 
beating  time  to  them  himfelf,  and  though  he  fo 
frequently  exclaims — very  fine  !  O  fine  !  vaftly 
fine  !-~Since  the  lucubration  of  Friday,  Jan  26. 
has  been  mentioned,  we  think  proper  to  obferve 
here,  that  his  Infpectorfliip  has  the  moft  notable 
talent  at  a  motto — Quinbus  Fleftrin  faith,  "  he  is 
"  a  tartar  for  that  ;'*  and  of  this,  learned  reader, 
take  a  fpecimen  along  with  you.  How  aptly,  up 
on  the  fubject  of  mufic,  does  he  bid  his  readers 
pluck  grapes  from  the  loaded  vine  ! 

Carpite  de  plenis  pendentes  vitibus  uvas.       Ovid, 

The  above-mentioned  Quinbus  Fleftrin  peremp 
torily  fays,  this  line  has  been  cavillahpt  by  fome 
minor  critics,  becaufe  "  the  grapes  arWbur;"  and, 
indeed,  of  that  way  of  thinking  is  Macularius, 
who  hath  been  greatly  aftoniflied  at  the  tafte  of 
Hillario,  in  fo  frequently  culling  from  Valerius 
Flaccus.  But  he  is  clearly  of  opinion,  that  the 
lines  from  Welftead  and  Dennis  are  fejected  with 
great  judgment,  and  are  hunj  out  as  proper  %M 


-jr 

of  what  entertainment  is  to  be  furniflied  up  to  his 
cuftomers. 

Ver.  213.  Whatever  mean  opinion  Dr.  Ph<£- 
bus  may  entertain  of  his  terreftrial  brother,  phyL 
cian  and  poet,  on  earth  Hillario  is  talked  of  in  2 
different  manner ;  as  will  appear  from  the  follow, 
ing  parody  on  the  lines  prefixed  by  Mr.  Drydeo 
to  Mii'ton's  Paradife  Loft. 

Three  wife  great  men  in  the  fame  era  feorn, 
Britannia's  happy  ifland  did  adorn  : 
Henley  in  care  of  fouls  difplay'd  his  (kill, 
Rock  flione  in  phyfic,  and  in  both  John  H— 11  • 
The  force  of  nature  could  no  farther  go, 
To  make  a  third,  me  joinM  the  former  two. 

Quinbus  Fleftrirt. 

Ver.  219.  The  hypnotic,  or  foporiferous  qua 
lity  of  Hiltario's  pen,  is  manifeft  from  the  fol 
lowing  affeveration,  which  was  publiflied  in  the 
New  Craftfman,  and  is  a  letter  from  a  Uadefman 
in  the  city. 

"  SIR, 

"  Frora  a  motive  of  gratitude-,  and  for  the  fake 
"  of  thofe  of  my  fellow-creatures,  who  may  un- 
"  happily  be  afflicted !  as  I  have  been  for  fome 
"  time  paft,  1  beg  leave,  through  the  channel  of 
"  y9ur  PaPer,  to  communicate  the  diforder  I  have 
4  laboured  under,  and  the  extraordinary  cure  I 
"  have  lately  net  with.  I  have  had  for  many 
"  months  fucceflively  a  flow  nervous  fever,  with 
"  a  conftant  flutter  oft  my  fpirits,  attended  with 
"  pertinacious  watchings,twitchingsof  the  nerves, 
"  and  other  grievous  fymptoms,  which  reduced 
"  me  to  a  mere  (hadow.  At  length,  by  the  in- 
"  terpofition*  Divine  Providence,  a  friend  who 
"  had  himfelf  experienced  it,  advifed  me  to  have 
"  recourfe  to  the  reading  of  the  Inspectors.  I 
"  accordingly  took  one  of  them,  and  the  effect  it 
"  had  upon  me  was  fitch,  that  I  fell  into  a  prafound 
"  fleep,  which  lafted  near  fix  and  thirty  hours. 
"  By  this  I  have  attained  a  more  compofed  habit 
"  of  body  ;  and  I  now  doze  away  almoft  all  my 
"  time;  but,  for  fear  of  a  lethargy,  am  ordered  to 
"  take  them  in  fmaller  quantities.  A  paragraph 
"  at  a  time  now  anfwers  my  purpofe;  and  under 
"  Heaven  I  owe  my  deeping  powers  to  the  above- 
"  mentioned  Infpectors.  I  look  upon  them  to  be 
"  a  grand  foporificum  mirabile,  very  proper  to  be 
"  had  in  all  families.  He  makes  great  allowance 
"  to  thofe  who  buy  them  to  fell  again,  or  to  fend 
"  abroad  to  the  plantations  ;  and  the  above  faft 
"  I  am  ready  to  atteft  whenever  called  upon. 
"  Given  under  my  hand  this  4th  day  of  January, 

"  I7S3-" 

Humphrey  Roberts,  weaver  in  Crifpin-ftrett, 
Spitalfields,  oppoftte  the  Whitt  Horfe. 

Ver.  225.  Socrates  was  the  father  of  the  trueft 
philosophy  that  ever  appeared  in  the  world;  and 
though  he  has  not  drawn  God's  image,  which 
was  referved  for  the  light  of  the  gofpel,  he  hat 
at  leaft  given  the  (Tiadow,.  which  together  with 
his  exemplary  life,  induces  Erafmus  to  cry  out, 
SartcJe  Socrates  ora  pro  nobis  ;  of  Mr.  Gibber  we 
fhall  fay  nothing,  as  be  has  faid  abundantly 
enough  of  himfelf;  but  to  illuftrate  the  poet't 
meaning  in  this  paflaje,  it  may.  be  accellarj  u» 


THE  WORKS   OF   SMART. 


obferve,  (hat  when  the  Britifh  worthy  was  indif- 
poled  fome  time  fince,  the  Infpeelor  did  not  hefi- 
tate  to"  prefer  him  to  the  godlike  ancient  philofo- 
pher.  0  tc,  Bollane,  cerebrifelicem. 

M.  Macularius. 

Ver.  226.  Alluding  to  his  egregious  talent  at 
distinctions  without  a  difference. 

Ver.  229.  On  every  Saturday  the  florid  Hillario 
becomes,  in  Woodward's  phrafe,  a  lay  preacher  ; 
but  his  flimfey,  heavy,  impotent  lucubration?  have 
rather  been  of  prejudice  to  the  good  old  caufe  ; 
and  we  hear  that  there  is  now  preparing  for  the 
prefs,  by  a  very  eminent  divine,  adefence  of  Chrif- 
tianity,  againft  the  mifrepfefentations  of  a  certain 
officious  writer;  and  for  the  prefent  we  think 
proper  to  apply  an  epigram,  occafioned  by  a  dif- 
pute  between  two  beaux  concerning  religion. 

On  grace,  free-will,  and  myft'ries  high, 

Two  wits  harangu'd  the  table  ; 
J — n  II — 11  believes  he  knows  not  why, 

Tom  {wears  'tis  all  a  fable. 

Peace,  idiots,  peace,  and  both  agree, 
^  Tom,  kifs  thy  empty  brother ; 
Religion  laughs  at  foes  like  thee, 
.But  dreads  a  friend  like  t'  other. 

Ver.  239.  It  appears  that  the  firft  effort  of  this 
tiniverfal  genius,  who  is  lately  become  remarkable 
as  the  Boj>adil  of  literature,  was  to  excel  in  pan 
tomime.  What  was  the  event  1 — he  was  damned. 
---Mr.  Crofs,  the  prompter,  took  great  pains  to  fit 
him  for  the 'part  of  Oroonoko — he  was  damned.— 
He  attempted  Captain  Blandfurd — he  was  damn 
ed. — He  acted  Conftant  in  the  Provok'd  Wife — 
he  was  damned. — He  represented  the  Botanift  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  at  the  Little  Theatre  in  the 
Hay-Market,  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  The. 
Cibber— he  was  damned. — He  appeared  in  the 
character  of  Lothario,  at  the  celebrated  theatre 
in  May-Fair — he  was  damned  there  too.  Mr. 
Croff,  however,  to  alleviate  his  misfortune,  cha 
ritably  beftowed  upon  him  a  fifteenth  part  of  his 
own  benefit.  See  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for 
laft  December,  and  alfo  Woodward's  letter,  pal- 
Jim- 

Ver.  231.  Notwithftanding  this  aflertion  of 
Momus,  our  hero  pro  ca  qua  eft,  verecundia,  com- 
pareth  himlelf  to  Addifon  and  Steele,  which  oc 
cafioned  the  following  epigram  by  the  Right  Hon. 
the  Earl  ***,  addrefied  to  the  Right  Hon.  G — e 
D— n. 

Art  thou  not  angry,  learning's  great  protector, 

To  hear  that  flimfey  author,  the  Jnfpector, 

Of  cant,  of  puff,  that. daily  vain  inditer, 

Call  Addifon,  or  Steele,  his  brother  writer  \ 

So  a  pert  H— 11  (in  ^Jlfop's  fabling  days) 

Swoln  up  with  vanity,  and  ielf-giv'n  praife, 

To  his  huge  neighbour   mountain    might   have 

faid, 
""  See  (brother) ;    how  We    Mountains  lift  the 

"  head  1 

"  How  great  we  fliow  !  how  awful,  and  how  high, 
"  Amidft  theCe  paukry  aicunts,  that  here  around 

"  us  lie  1" 


And  now  reader,  pleafe  to  obfenre,  that,  fince  fo 
ingenious  a -nobleman  hath  condefcended  to  take 
.otice  of  his  Infpectorfhip,  Mr.  Smart  doth  not 
need  any  apology  for  the  notice  he  hath  alfo  taken 
of  him.  M.  Macularius. 

Ver.  232.  In  a  very  pleafing  account  of  the 
riots  in  Drury-Lane  play-houfe,  by  Henry  Field- 
ng,  Efq.  we  find  the  following-  humorous  defcrip- 
tion  of  our  hero  in  the  character  of  a  trumpeter. 
'  They  all  run  away  except  the  trumpeter,  who 
[laving  an  empyema  in  his  fide,  as  well  as  feveral 
dreadful  bruifes  on  his  breach,  was  taken.  When 
be  was  brought  before  Garrick  to  be  examined,  he 
[aid  the  ninnies,  to  whom  he  had  the  honour  to 
be  trumpeter,  had  relented  the  ufe  made  of  the 
monfters  by  Garrick.  That  it  was  unfair,  that 
it  was  cruel,  that  it  was  inhuman  to  employ  a 
man's  own  fubjects  againft  him.  That  Rich  was 
lawful  fovereign  over  all  the  monfters  in  the  uni- 
verfe,  with  much  more  of  the  fame  kind ;  all 
which  Garrick  feemed  to  think  unworthy  of  an 
anfwer  ;  but  when  the  trumpeter  challenged  him 
as  his  acquaintance,  the  chief  with  great  difdain, 
turned  his  back,  and  ordered  the  fellow  to  be  drf- 
miffed  with  full  power  of  trumpeting  again  on 
what  fide  he  pleafed."  Hillario  has  fince  trum 
peted  in  the  caufe  of  pantomime ;  the  gaudy 
fcenery  of  which,  with  great  judgment,  he  difmif- 
ies  from  the  Opera-houfe,  and  faith,  it  is  now  fixed 
iii  its  proper  place  in  the  theatre.  On  this  occa- 
fion,  Macularius  cannot  help  exclaiming,  "  O 
Shakfpeare  '.  O  Johnfon  !  reft,  reft  perturbed  fpi- 
rits." 

Ver.  253.  The  firft  of  thefe  gentlemen  may  be 
juiily  looked  upon  as  the  Milton  of  mufic,  and  the 
talents  of  the  two  latter  may  not  improperly  be 
delineated  by  calling  them  the  Drydens  of  their 
profeffion,  as  they  not  only  touch  the  ftrings  of 
love  with  exquifite  art,  but  alfo,  when  they  pleafe, 
reach  the  truly  fublime. 

Ver.  257.  The  opinion  which  Mr.  Hogarth  en 
tertains  of  our  hero's  writings,  may  be  gueffed  at, 
by  any  one  who  will  take  the  pleafuie  of  looking 
at  a  print  called  Beer-ltreet,  in  which  Hillario's 
critic  upon  the  Royal  Society  is  put  into  a  bafket, 
directed  to  the  trunk-maker  in  St.  Paul's  Church 
yard.  I  mall  not  only  obferve  thai^  the  compli 
ment  in  this  palFage  to  Mr.  Hogarth  is  reciprocal, 
and  reflects  a  luftre  on  Mr.  Garrick,  both  of  them, 
having  fimilar  talents,  equally  capable  of  the 
highelt  elevation,  and  of  reprefenting  the  or 
dinary  fcenes  of  life,  with  the  moft  exquifite  hu 
mour. 

And  now,  candid  reader,  Martinus  Macularius 
hath  attended  thee  throughout  the  firft  book  of 
this  moft  delectable  poem.  As  it  is  not  impro 
bable  that  thofe  will  be  inquifitive  after  the  par 
ticulars  relating  to  this  thy  commentator,  he  here 
gives  thee  notice  that  he  is  preparing  for  the  prefs, 
Memoirsurf  Martinus  Macularius,  with  his  tra 
vels  by  Wf  and  land,  together  with  his  flights 
aerial,  and.defcents  fubterraneons,  &c.  And  in 
the  mean  time  he  bids  thee  farewell,  until  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  fecond  book  of  the  Hilliad,  of 
which  we  will  hy,/pfcujh  miraciihi  promet.  Aad 
fo  as  Terence  foys,  Fw  valete  et  flaudite. 


POEMS. 


TfrE  JUDGMENT  OF  MIDAS. 

A    MASQUE. 

Auriculas  Afini  Midas  Rex  habct."          Juv. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

APOLLO. 

PAN. 

TIMOLUS,  God  of  the  Mountain* 

MIDAS. 

CALLIOPE. 

MELPOMENE. 

MELI°NOE.  }tw° 
SATYRS,  &.c. 


TIMOLUS,  MELINOE,  and  AGNO,  Two  Wood- 
Nymphs. 

Timolus. 

AGNO,  to-day  we  wear  our  acorn  crown, 
The  parfley  wreath  be  thine  :  it  is  moft  meet 
We  grace  the  prefence  of  thefe  rival  gods 
With  all  the  honours  of  our  woodland  weeds. 
Thine  was  the  talk,  Melinoe,  to  prepare 
The  turf-built  theatre,  the  boxen  bow'r, 
And  all  the  fylvan  fcenery. 
Melinoe. 

That  talk, 

Sire  of  thefe  fhades,  is  done.  On  yefter  eve, 
Aflifted  by  a  thoufand  friendly  fays, 
While  fav'ring  Dian  held  her  glitt'ring  larrip, 
We  ply'd  our  nightly  toils,  nor  piy'd  we  long, 
For  art  was  not  the  miftrefs  of  our  revels, 
'Twas  gentle  nature  whom  we  jointly  woo'd  ; 
She  heard,  and  yielded  to  the  forms  we  taught 
her, 

Yet  ftill  remain'd  herfelf Simplicity, 

Fair  nature's  genuine  daughters,  too  was  there, 

So  foft,  yet  fo  magnificent  of  mien, 

She  (hone  all  ornament  without  a  gem. 

The  blithfome  Flora,  ever  fweet  and  young, 

Offer'd  her  various  ftore  :  we  cull'd  a  few 

To  robe,  and  recommend  our  darkfome  verdure, 

But  fhunn'd  to  be  luxuriant 

Timolus. 

It  was  well. 

Agno,  thy  looks  are  penfive:  What  dejecls 
Thy  pleafure-painted  afpect  ?  fvreeteft  nymph, 
That  ever  trod  the  turf,  or  fought  the  made, 
Speak,  nor  conceal  a  thought. 
Agno. 

King  of  the  woods, 
I  tremble  for  the  royal  arbiter. 
Tis  hard  to  judge,  whene'er  the  great  contend, 
Sure  to  difpleafe  the   vanquifh'd :    When  i'uch 

pow'rs 

Contend  the  laurel  with  fuch  ardent  ftrife, 
Tis  not  the  fentence  of  fair  equity, 
ut  'tis  their  pleafure  that  is  right  or  wrong. 
VOL.  Xf. 


'Tis  well  remarked,  and  on  experience  founded. 
I  do  remember  that  my  lifter  Ida 
(When  as  on  her  own  fhadowy  mount  we  met, 
To  celebrate  the  birth-day  of  the  fpring, 
And  th'  orgies  of  the  May)  would  oft  recount 
The  rage  of  the  indignant  goddefles, 
When  fhepherd  Paris  to  the  Cyprian  queen. 
With  hand  obfequious  gave  the  golden  toy. 
Heaven's  queen,  the  fitter  and  the  wife  of  Jove, 
Rag'd  like  a  feeble  mortal;  fall'ii  (he  feem'd, 
Her  deity  in  human  paffions  loft ; 
Ev'n  wifdom's  goddefs,  jealous  of  her  form, 
Deem'd  her  own  attribute  her  fecund  virtue, 
Both  vow'd  and  fought  revenge. 
Agno. 

If  fuch  the  fate 

Of  him  who  judg'd  aright,  what  muft  be  his 
Who  fliall  miftake  the  caufe  ?  for  much  I  doubt 
The  (kill  of  Midas,  fince  his  fatal  wifli, 
Which  Bacchus  heard,  and  curs'd  him  with  the 

gift,  . 

Yet  grant  him  wife,  to  err  is  human  ftill, 
And  mortal  is  the  confequence. 

Melinoe. 

Moft  true. 

Befides,  I  fear  him  partial ;  for  with  Pan 
He  tends  the  (beep-walks  all  the  live-long  day, 
And  on  the  braky  lawn  to  the  flirill  pipe 
In  awkward  gambols  he  affects  to  dance, 
Or  tumbles  to  the  tabor— 'tis  not  likely 
That  fuch  an  umpire  mould  bacquitable, 
Unlefs  he  guefs  at  juftice. 

Timolus* 

Soft — no  more— 

'Tis  ours  to  wifh  for  Pan,  and  fear  from  Phcebui, 
Whofe  near  approach  I  hear.  Ye  ftately  cedars 
Forth  from  your  fummits  bow  your  awful  heads, 
And  reverence  the  gods.  Let  my  whole  mountain 

tremble, 

Not  with  a  fearful,  but  religious  awe, 
And  holinefs  of  horror.     You,  ye  winds, 
That  make  foft  folemn  mufic  'mongft  the  leaves. 
Be  all  to  ftillnefs  hufh'd  ;  and  thou,  their  echo,  ' 
Liften,  and  hold  thy  peace ;  for  fee  they  come. 

SCENE  opens,  and  difcovers  APOLLO,  attended  by 
CLIO  and  MELPOMENE,  on  tbe  right  band  of 
MIDAS  and  PAN  on  tbe  left,  <wbotn  TmoLUS, 
with  AROO  and  M.ELixox,Join. 

Midas. 

Begin,  celeftiaT  candidates  for  praife, 
Begin  the  tuneful  conteft  :  I,  meanwhile, 
With  headitil  nutice  and  attention  meet. 
Will  weigh  your  merits,  and  decide  your  caufe. 

Apollo. 

From  Jove  begin  the  rapturous  ftmg, 
To  him  our  earlieft  lays  belong, 

We  are  his  offspring  all : 
'Twas  he,  whofe  looks  fupremely  bright, 
Smil'd  darkfome  chaos  into  light, 

And  frani'd  this  glorious  ball. 

Pan. 

Sylvanus,  in  his  fhadowy  grove, 
The  feat  of  rural  peace  and  love, 

Attends  roy  Doric  lays; 


I  Si 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


By  th'  altar  on  the  myrtle  mount, 
Where  plays  the  wood-nymphs  fav'rite  fount, 
I'll  celebrate  his  praife. 
Clio. 

Parnafius,  where's  thy  hoafted  height, 
"Where,  Pegafus,  thy  fire  and  flight, 
"Where  all  your  thoughts  fo  bold  and  free, 
Ye  daughters  of  Mnemofyne  ? 
If  Pan  o'er  Phoebus  can  prevail, 
And  the  great  god  of  verfe  fliould  fail  ? 

Agno. 

Trom  nature's  works,  and  nature's  laws, 
"We  find  delight,  and  feek  applaufe  ; 
The  prattling  flreams  and  zephyrs  bland, 
And  fragrant  flow'rs  by  zephyrs  /ann'd, 
The  level  lawns  and  buxom  bow'rs, 
Speak  nature  and  her  works  are  ours. 

Melpomene. 

What  were  all  your  fragrant  bow'rs, 
Splendid  days,  and  happy  hours, 
Spring's  verdant  robe,  fair  Flora's  blufh, 
And  all  the  poets  of  the  bu(b  ? 
What  the  paintings  of  the  grove, 
Rural  muCc,  mirth,  and  love  ? 
life  and  ev'ry  joy  would  pall, 
If  Phcebus  flione  not  on  them  all. 

Melinoe. 

We  chant  to  Phoebus,  king  of  day, 
The  morning  and  the  evening  lay. 
But  Pan,  each  fatyr,  nymph,  and  fawn, 
Adore  as  laureat  of  the  lawn  ; 
prom  peevifli  Ma^h  to  joyous  June, 
He  keeps  our  reftleis  fouls  in  tune, 
"Without  his  oaten  reed  and  fong, 
Phoebus,  thy  days  would  feem  too  long. 

Apollo. 

Am  I  not  he,  who  prefcient  from  on  high, 
Send  a  long  look  through  all  futurity  ? 
Am  I  not  he,  to  whom  alone  belong 
The  pow'rs  of  med'cine,  melody,  and  foag  ? 
Difiufely  lib'ral,  as  divinely  bright, 
Eye  of  the  univerfe  and  fire  of  light. 

Pan. 

O'er  cots  and  vaks,  and  every  (hepherd  fwain, 
In  peaceable  pre-eminence  I  reign ; 
With  pipe  on  plain,  and  nymph  in  fecret  grove, 
The  day  is  mufic,  and  the  night  is  love. 
J,  bleft  with  thefe,  nor  envy  nor  defire 
Thy  gaudy  chariot,  or  thy  golden  lyre. 

Clio. 
Soon  as  the  dawn  difpels  the  dark, 

Illuftrious  Phcebus  'gins  t"  appear, 
Proclaimed  by  the  herald  lark, 

And  ever-wakeful  chanticleer, 
The  Perfian  pays  his  morning  vow, 
And  all  the  turban'd  eafterns  bow. 

Agno. 
Soon  as  the  evening  fliade?  advance, 

And  the  gilt  glow-worm  glitters  fair, 
Tor  ruftic  gambol,  gibe,  and  dance, 

Fawns^rjymphs,  and  dryads  all  prepare. 
Pan  fhall  his  fwains  from  toil  relieve, 
And  rule  the  revels  of  the  eve. 
Melpomene. 

In  numbers  fmooth.as  Callirhoe's  dream, 
Gii4e  the  fiiver-jon'd  verfe  when  Apollo's  the 
theme  j 


While  on  his  own  mount  Cypariflus  is  feen, 
And  Daphne  preferves  her  immutable  greeti. 
We'll  hail  Hyperion  with  tranfports  fo  long, 
Th'  inventor,  the  patron,  and  fubject  of  fong. 

Melinoe. 

While  on  the  calm  ocean  the  Halcyon  fliall  breed, 
Am!  Syrins  fliall  fi^h  with  her  mufical  reed, 
While  fairies,  and  fatyri,  and  fawns  (hall  approve. 
The  mufic,  the  mirth,  and  the  life  of  the  grove, 
So  long  (ball  our  Pan  be  than  thou  more  divine, 
For  he  fliall  be  rifing  when  thou  (halt  decline. 

Midas. 

No  more — To  Pan  and  to  his  beauteous  nymphs 
I  do  adjudge  the  prize,  as  is  moft  due. 

Enter  two  Satyrs,  and  crown  MIDAS  witbapair 
of  afs's  ears. 

Apollt. 

Such  rural  honours  all  the  gods  decree, 
To  thofe  who  fing  like  Pan,  and  judge  like  thee. 

{Exeunt  omnesi 

REASON  AND  IMAGINATION. 


IMAGINATION,  in  the  flight 

Of  young  defire  and  gay  delight, 

Began  to  think  upon  a  mate ; 

As  weary  of  a  (ingle  ftate  ; 

For  fick  of  change,  as  left  at  will, 

And  cloy'd  with  entertainment  (till, 

She  thought  it  better  to  be  grave, 

To  fettle,  to  take  up,  tndfave. 

She  therefore  to  her  chamber  fped. 

And  thus  at  firft  attir'd  her  head. 

Upon  her  hair,  with  brilliants  grac'd, 

Her  tow'r  of  beamy  gold  (he  plac'd  ; 

Her  ears  with  pendant  jewels  glow'A 

Of  various  water,  carious  mode, 

As  nature  fports  the  wint'ry  ice, 

In  many  a  whimfical  device. 

Her  eye-brows  arch'd  upon  the  ftrram 

Of  rays,  beyond  the  piercing  beam  ; 

Her  cheeks  in  matchlefs  colour  high, 

She  veil'd  to  fix  the  gazer's  eye: 

Her  pap's,  as  white  as  fancy  draws, 

She  cover'd  with  a  crimfon  gauze  ; 

And  on  her  wings  the  threw  perfume 

From  buds  of  everlafting  bloom. 

Her  zone,  ungirded  from  her  veft, 

She  wore  acrofs  her  fwelling  breaft; 

On  which,  in  gems,  this  verfe  was  wrought» 

"  I  make  and  Ihift  the  fcenes  of  thought." 

In  her  right  hand  a  wand  (he  held, 

Which  magic's  utmoft  pow'r  excell'd; 

And  in  her  left  retains  a  chart, 

With  figures  far  furpafling  art, 

Of  other  natures,  funs  and  moons, 

Of  other  moves  to  higher  tunes. 

The  fylphs  and  fylphids,  fleet  as  light. 

The  fairies  of  the  gamefome  night, 

The  mufes,  graces,  all  attend 

Her  fervice  to  her  journey's  end  : 

And  fortune,  fometimes  at  her  han.l 

Is  now  the  fav'rite  of  her  band, 

Difpatch'd  before  the  news  to  bear, 

And  ailth'  adyenture  to  prepare* 


POEMS. 


Beneath  an  holm-tree's  friendly  fliade, 
Was  reafon's  little  cottage  made  ; 
Before,  a  river  deep  and  ftill ; 
Behind,  a  rocky  foaring  hill. 
Himlelf,  adom'd  in  feemly  plight, 
Was  reading  to  the  eaftern  light ; 
And  ever,  as  he  meekly  knelt, 
tlpon  the  book  of  Wifdom  dwelt. 
The  fpirit  of  the'fhifting  wheel, 
Thus  firil  eflay'd  his  pulfe  to  feel.— 
*'  The  nymph  fupreme  o'er  works  of  witj 
*'  O'er  labour'd  plan  and  lucky  hit, 
*'  Is  coming  to  your  homely  cot, 
"  To  call  you  to  a  nobler  lot ; 
"  I,  Fortune,  promife  wealth  and  pow'rj 
"  By  w;iy  of  iftatrimonial  dow'r : 
"  Preferment  crowns  the  golden  day, 
"  When  fair  occafion  leads  the  way." 
Thus  fpake  the  frail  capricious  dame, 
When  ihe  that  fent  the  meflage  came.— 
"  From  firlt  invention's  higheft  Iphere, 
*4  I,  queen  of  imag'ry  appear ; 
*"  And  throw  myfelt  at  reafon's  feet, 
"  Upon  a  Weighty  point  to  treat, 
•'  You  dwell  alone,  a'nd  are  too  grave  ; 
"  You  make  yourfelf  too  much  a  flave  ; 
Your  flirewd  deductions  run  a  Jength, 
Till  all  your  fpirits  wafte  their  ftrength : 
"  Your  farv'rite  logic  is  fuJl  clofe ; 
"  Your  morals  are  too  much  a  dofe ; 

You  ply  your  ftudies  till  you  rifk 
"  Your  fenfes— 'you  fiiould  be  more  brifk— 
The  doctors  loo'n  will  find  a  flaw, 
And  lock  you  iip  in  chains  and  ftraw. 
But,  if  you  are  inclin'd  to  take 
The  gen'roUs  offer  which  I  make, 
l{  I'll  lead  you  from  this  hole  and  ditch, 
To  gay  conception's  topmoft  pitch ; 
To  thofe  bright  plains,  where  crowd  in  fwarms 
The  fpirits  of  fantaitic  forms  j 
To  planets  populous  with  elves; 
To  nature  ftill  above  themfelves, 
By  foaring  to  the  wond'rous  height 
Of  notions  which  they  ftill  cfe'ate  ; 
I'll  bring  you  to  the  pearly  cars, 
By  dragons  drawn,  above  the  ftars  ; 
To  colours  of  Arabian  glow ; 
•'  And  to  the  heart-dilating  (how 

Of  paintings  which  Curmount  the  life  : 

At  once  your  tut'refs  and  your  wife."—  ,   . 

Soft,  foft,"  fays  Reafon,  "  lovely  friend; 

Though  to  a  parley  I  attend, 
*«  I  cannot  take  thee  for  a  mate  : 
I'm  loft  if  e'er  I  change  my  ftate. 
But  whenfo'e'er  your  raptures  rife, 
*'  I'll  try  to  come  with  my  fupplies ; 
«'  To  mufter  up  my  fobef  aid, 
44  What  time  your  lively  pow'rs  invade; 
"  To  a<fl  conjointly  in  the  war 
*'  Of  dullnefs,  whom  we  both  abhor  ; 
"  And  ev'ry  fally  that  you  make, 
•'  I  muft  be  there  for  conduct's  fake ; 
"  Thy  correff  ondent,  thine  ally  : 
*'  Or  any  thing  but  bind  and  tie— 
"  But,  ere  this  treaty  be  agreed, 
*'  Give  me  thy  wand  aod  winged  fteed: 


'*  Take  thou  this  compafs  and  this  rule, 
"  That  wit  may  ceafe  to  play, the  fool; 
"  And  that  thy  vot'ries  who  are  born 
"  For  praife,  may  never  fink  to  fcorn," 

NEW  VERSION  0'£  P^ALM  CXLVIH. 

HALLELUJAH!  kneel  and  ling 
Praifes  to  the  Heav'nly  King ; 
To  the  God  (upremHy  great, 
Hallelujah  in  the  height. 

Praife  him,  arch-angelic  band, 
Ye  that  in  his  prefence  ftand; 
Praife  him,  ye  that  watch  and  pray, 
Michael's  myriads  in  array. 

Praife  him,  fun  at  each  extreme, 
Orient  ftreak  and  weitern  beam  ; 
Moon  and  Itars  of  myftic  dance, 
Silv'ring  in  the  blue  expanfe. 

Praife  him,  O  ye  Heights  that  foar 
Heav'n  and  heay'n  for  evermore ; 
And  ye  ttfeams  of  living  rill 
Higher  yet-  and  purer  ftill. 

Let  them  praife  his  glorious  name, 
From  whole  fruitful  word  they  came  j 
And  they  firft  began  to  be 
As  he  gave  the  great  decree. 

Their  conftituent  parts  he  founds 
For  duration  without  bounds.; 
And  their  covenant  Has  feal'3, 
Which  ihali  never  be  repeal'd. 

Praife  the  Lord  on  earth's  domains : 
Praife,  ye  mutes,  that  fea  contains ; 
They  that  on  the  fbrface  leap, 
And  the  dragons  of  the  deep. 

Batt'ring  hail,  and  fires  that  glow, 
Streaming  vapours,  plumy  fnow  ; 
Wind  and  ftorm,  his  wrath  incurrM 
Wing'd  and  pointed  at  his  word. 

Mountains  of  enormous  fcale, 
Every  hill  and  every  vale ; 
Fruit  trees  of  a  thpufand  dyes. 
Cedars  that  perfume  the  flues ! 

Beafts  that  haunt  the  woodland,  maze, 
Nibbling  flocks  and  droves  that  gaze  } 
Reptiles  of  amphibious  breed, 
Feath'er'd  minions  form'd  for  fpeed. 

Kings,  with  Jelus  for  their  guide, 
Peopled  regions  far  and  wide  ; 
Heroes  of  tfceir  country's  caufe,' 
Princes,  judges  of  the  laws. 

Age  and  childhood,  youth  and  maid, 
To  his  name  your  praife  be  paid ; 
For  his  word  is  worth  alone 
Far  above  his  crown  arid  throne. 

He  mall  dignify  the  creft 

Of  his  people,  rais'd  and  bleft ; 

While  we  ferve  with  praife  and  pray'rs, 

All  in  Chrift  his  faints  and  heirs. 


THE  'WORKS  OF  SMART. 


ODE  TO  LORD  BARNARD, 

ON  HIS  ACCESSION  TO  THAT  TITLE. 

"  Sis  licet  felix  ubieunque  mavis 
"  Et  memor  noftri."          HOR. 

MILPOMENE,  who  charm'ft  the  fkies, 

Queen  of  the  lyre  and  lute, 
Say,  (hall  my  noble  patron  rife, 

And  thou,  fweet  mufe,  be  mute  ? 
Shall  fame,  to  celebrate  his  praife, 
Her  loudeft,  loftieft  accents  raife, 

And  all  her  filver  trumps  employ, 
And  thou  reftrain  thy  tuneful  hand, 
And  thou  an  idle  lirt'ner  ftand 

Amidlt  the  general  joy  ? 

Forbid  it,  all  ye  powers  above, 

That  huirkn  hearts  can  try, 
Forbid  it,  gratitude  and  love, 

And  every  tender  tie  : 
Was  it  not  he,  vvhofe  pious  cares 
Upheld  me  in  my  earlieft  years, 

And  cheer'd  me  from  his  ample  ftore, 
Who  animated  my  defigns, 
In  Roman  and  Athenian  mines, 

To  fearch  for  learning's  ore  ? 

The  royal  hand  my  lord  (hall  raife 

To  nobler  heights  thy  name, 
Who  praifes  thee,  (hall  meet  with  praife 

Ennobled  in  thy  fame. 
A  difpofition  form'd  to  pleafe, 
With  dignity  endear'd  by  eafe, 

And  grandeur  in  good-nature  loft, 
Have  myre  of  genuine  defert, 
Have  more  the  merit  of  the  heart, 

Than  arts  and  arms  can  boaft. 

Can  I  forget  fair  Raby'S  *  tower', 

How  awful  and  how  great ! 
Can  I  forget  fuch  blifsful  bowers, 

Such  fplendour  in  retreat  1 
Where  me,  ev'n  me,  an  infant  bard, 
Cleveland  f  and  Hope  J  indulgent  heard. 

(Then  tame  I  felt  thy  firft  alarms)  • 
Ah,  much  lov'd  pair !— though  one  is  fled, 
Still  one  compenfates  for  the  dead, 

Jn  merit  and  in  charms. 

O  more  than  compenfation,  fure  I  A 

O  bleffings  on  thy  life  ! 
Long  may  the  threefold  blifs  endure, 

In  daughters,  fons,  and  wife  ! 
Hope,  copyiftof  her  mother's  mind, 
Is  lovelieft,  liveiieft  of  her  kind, 

Her  foul  with  every  virtue  teems, 
By  none  in  wit  or  worth  outdone, 
With  eyes,  that,  fhining  on  the  fun, 

Defy  his  brighteft  beams. 

Hark  !  charity's  cherubic  voice 

Calls  to  her  numerous  poor, 
And  bids  their  languid  hearts  rejoice» 

And  points  to  Raby's  door ; 

*  His  Lord/lip"1  s  feat  in.  the  county  of  Durham. 
f  Her  late  Grace  of  Cleveland.   . 
i  The  Honourable  Airs.  Hope* 


With  open  heart,  and  open  hands, 
"here  Hofpitality—  flie  (lands, 

A  nymph,  vrhom  men  and  gods  admire; 
Daughter  of  heavenly  goodnefs  me, 
ler  filler's  Generofity, 

And  Honour  is  her  fire. 

What  though  my  lord  betwixt  us  lie 

Full  many  an  envious  league, 
Such  vail  extent  of  fea  and  (ky 

As  even  the  eye  fatigue ; 
Though  interpofing  ocean  raves, 
And  heaves  his  heaven-aflaulting  waves, 

While  on  the  fhores  the  billows  beat, 
Yet  ftill  my  grateful  mufe  is  free 
To  tune  her  warmed  drains  to  thee, 

And  lay  them  at  thy  feet. 

Goodnefs  is  ever  kindly  prone 

To  feign  what  fate  denies, 
And  others  want  of  worth  t'  atone, 

Finds  in  herfelf  fupplies  : 
Thus  dignity  itfelf  redrains, 
By  condefcenfion's  filken  reins, 

While  y&u  the  lowly  mufe  upraife ; 
When  fuch  the  theme,  fo  mean  the  bard, 
Not  to  rejecl  is  to  reward, 

To  pardon  is  to  praife. 

ODE  TO  LADY  HARRIOT. 

To  Harriot,  all-accomplifh'd  fair, 
Begin,  ye  nine,  a  grateful  air  ; 
Ye  graces  join  her  worth  to  tell, 
And  blazon  what  you  can't  excel. 

Let  Flora  rifle  all  her  bow'ts, 
For  fragrant  fhrubs,  and  painted  flow'rs, 
And,  in  her  vernal  robes  array'd, 
Prefent  them  to  the  noble  maid. 

Her  breath  (hall  give  them  new  perfume, 
Her  blufhes  fhall  their  dyes  outbloom  ; 
The  lily  now  no  more  (hall  boaft 
Its  whitenefs,  in  her  bofom  lod. 

See  yon  delicious  woodbines  rife 
By  oaks  exalted  to  the  ikies, 
So  view  in  Harriot's  matchlefs  mind 
Humility  and  greatnefs  join'd. 

To  paint  her  dignity  and  eafe, 
Form'd  to  command,  and  form'd  to  pleafe, 
In  wreaths  expreflive  be  there  wove 
The  birds  of  Venus  and  of  Jove. 

There,  where  th'  immortal  laurel  grows, 
And  there,  where  blooms  the  crimfon  rofxf, 
Be  with  this  line  the  chaplet  bound. 
That  beauty  is  with  virtue  crown'di 

ODE 

TO    THE    EARL    OF    NORTHUMBERLAND. 

On  bit  being  appointed  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland* 
prejented  on  the  Birth-day  of  Lord  IVarkv-'ortk. 

WHATE'ER  diftinguifh'd  patriots  rife 
The  times  and  manners  to  revife, 

And  drooping  merit  raife, 
The  fong  of  triumph  (lill  purfues 
Their  footftep.s  and  the  moral  mufe 

Dwells  fweetly  on  their  praife. 


POEMS. 


Jt  is  a  talk  of  true  delight 
The  ways  of  goodnefs  to  recite, 

And  all  her  works  icfin'd ; 
Though  modeft  greatnefs  \mder-rate 
Its  luftrc,  'tis  as  fix'd  as  fate, 

Says  truth  with  mufic  join'd. 
All  hail  to  this  aufpicious  morn, 
When  we,  for  gallant  Warkworth  born, 

Our  gratulatipns  pay : 
Though  virtue  all  the  live-long  year 
Refufe  her  eulogy  to  hear, 

She  muft  attend  to-day. 
All  hail  to  that  tranfcendent  fair, 
That  crown'd  thy  wifhes  with  an  heir, 

And  blefs'd  her  native  land : 
Still  fhoots  thy  undegenerate  line, 
Like  oak  from  oak,  and  pine  from  pine, 

As  goodly  and  as  grand. 
O  how  illuftrious  and  divine 
Were  all  the  heroes  of  thy  line, 

'Gainft  Rome's  ambitious  cheat! 
Born  all  thefe  bafe  infidious  arts, 
Which  work  the  moft  in  weakeft  hearts, 

To  dare  and  to  defeat ! 
Live  then  in  triumph  o'er  deceit, 
That  with  new  honours  we  may  greet 

The  houfe  of  arms  and  arts, 
Till  bleft  experience  (hall  evince 
How  fairly  you  prefent  that  prince, 

Who's  Sovereign  of  our  hearts. 
In  pity  to  our  fifter  ifie, 
With  fighs  we  lend  thee  for  a  while ; 

O  be  thou  foon  reft  or 'd ; 
Though  Stanhope,  Hallifax,  were  there, 
We  never  had  a  man  to  fpare 

Our  love  could  lefs  afford. 

THE  SWEETS  OF  EVENING. 
THE  fweets  of  evening  charm  the  mind 

Sick  of  the  fultry  day ; 
The  body  then  no  more  confin'd, 
But  exercife  with  freedom  join'd, 

When  Phoebus  fheathes  his  ray. 
While  all  ferene  the  fummer  moon 

•Sends  glances  through  the  trees, 
And  Philomel  begins  her  tune, 
Aftcria  too  fhall  help  her  foon 

With  voice  of  ikilful  eafe. 
A  nofegay,  every  thing  that  grows, 

And  mufic,  every  found 
To  lull  the  fun  to  his  repofe  ; 
The  flcies  are  coloured  like,  the  rofe 

With  lively  ftreaks  around. 
Of  all  the  changes  rung  by  time, 

None  half  Ib  fweet  appear 
As  thofe  when  thoughts  themfelves  fublime, 
And  with  fuperior  natures  chime 

In  fancy's  higheft  fphere. 


I 


OD3 


TO  A  VIRGINIA  NIGHTINGALE. 

Which  ivtis  cured  of  a  Fit  in  the  Bofum  of  a  yoitn 
Lady,  ivlo  after-wards  nurfed  the  Auilor  in  a  Jiin 
geraus  Illnefs. 

SWEET  bird  !  v/hofe  fate  and  m/me  ;'grec> 
As  far  as  proud  humanity 


The  parallel  will  own ; 
O  let  our  voice  and  hearts  combine, 
O  let  us  fellow-warblers  join, 

Our  patronefu  to  crown. 

When  heavy  hung  thy  flagging  wing, 
When  tkou  couldft  neither  move  norfing-, 

Of  fpirits  void  and  reft, 
A  lovely  nymph  her  aid  apply'd, 
She  gave  the  blifs  to  heaven  ally'd, 

And  cur 'd  thee  on  her  breaft. 

Me  too  the  kind  indulgent  maid, 
With  gen'rous  care  and  timely  aid, 

Reftor'd  to  mirth  and  health ; 
Then  join'd  to  her,  O  may  I  prove, 
By  friendfhip,  gratitude,  and  love, 

The  poverty  of  wealth. 

MARTIAL.    BOOK  I.  EP.  XXVf. 

WHEN  Brutus'  fall  wing'd  fame  to  Porcia  brought, 
Thofe  arms  her  friends  conceal'd, her  pafllonibuo'lit. 
She  foon  perceiv'd  their  poor  officious  \\  iles, 
Approves  their  zeal,  but  at  their  folly  fmiles. 
What  Cato  taught,  Heaven  fure  cannot  deny, 
Bsreav'd  of  all,  we  ftill  have  pow'r  to  die. 
Then  down  her  throat  the  burning  coal  convey'd. 
Go  now,  ye  fools,  and  hide  your  fwords,  (he  faid. ' 

ON  A  LADY  THROWING  SNOW-BALLS 
AT  HER  LOVER. 

FROM  THE  LATIN  OF  PETRONIUS  ASCANIOS. 

WHEN,  wanton  fair,  the  fnowy  orb  you  throw, 
I  feel  a  fire  before  unknosvn  in  fnow. 
Ev'n  coldeft  fnow  1  find  has  pow'r  to  warm 
My  breaft,  when  flung  by  Julia's  lovely  arm. 
T"  elude  love's  powerful  arts  I  ftrive  in  vain, 
If  ice  and  fnow  can  latent  fires  contain. 
Thefe  frolics  leave  ;  the  force  of  beauty  prove  ; 
With  equal  paffion  cool  my  ardent  love. 


FABLES. 
FABLE  I. 

THE  WHOLESALE  CRITIC  AND  THE   HOT- 
MERCHANT. 

HAIL  to  each  ancient  facred  fliade 
Of  thofe  who  gave  the  mufes  aid, 
SkSll'd  verfe  myfterious  to  unfold, 
And  let  each  brilliant  thought  in  gold. 
Hail  Ariftotle's  honour'd  fhrine, 
And  great  Longinus  hail  to  thine  ; 
Ye  too,  whole  judgment  ne'er  could  fail, 
Hail  Horace,  and  (,Juiiitilian  hail; 
And,  dread  of  every  Goth  and  Hun, 
Hail  Pope,  and  peerlefs  Addifon. 

Alas !  by  different  fteps  and  ways, 
Our  modern  critics  aim  at  praife, 
And  rafhly  in.  the  learned  arts, 
They  judge  by  prejudice  and  parts; 
For,  cramp'd  by  a  contracted  Ibul, 
How  fhould  they  comprehend  the  whole  ? 

I  know  of  many  a  deep-leani'd  brother, 
Who  weighs  one  Icience  by  another, 
And  makt.s  'mon?;ft  bardi  poetic  fchilin, 
Jkcauic  he  BcdcnUndsthe 
L  iij 


THE  WORKS   OF  SMART. 


Thinks  in  acutenefs  he  furpaffes, 

From  knowledge  of  the  optic  glaffes. 

There  are  fome  critics  in  the  nation, 

Profoundly  vers'd  in  gravitation, 

Who  like  the  bulky  and  the'  great, 

And  judge  by  quantity  and  weight. 

Some  who  re  extremely  flcill'd  in  building, 

Judge  by  proportion,  form,  and  gilding,  ' 

And  praife  with  a  fagacious  look 

The  architecture  of  a  book. 

Soon  as  the  hops  arriv'd  from  Kent, 

Perth  to  the  quay  the  merchant  went,' 

Went  critically  to  explore 

The  merit  of  the  hops  onfhore. 

Clofe  to  a  bag  he  took  his  '{landing, 

And  at  a  venture  thruft'  his  hand  iff ; 

Then,  with  the  face  of  a  phyfician, 

Their  colour  fcann'd,  and  their  condition} 

He  trufis  his  touch,  liis  fmell,  his  eyes, 

The  goods  at  once  approves  and  buys. 
Catchup,  fo  dextrous,  droll,  and  dry, 

It  happen'd  Catchup  there  wa.s  by,     •  ' 

Who,  like  '*  lago,  arch  on  all, 

Is  nothing,  if  hot  critical. 

He  with  a  fneer,  and  with  a  fhnig, 

With  eye  of  hawk,  and  face  of  pug, 

Cry'd, "  Fellow,  I  admire  thy  fun, 

"  Thou  moftJudicioufly  haft  done, 

"  Who  fromone  handful  buy'ft  ten  ton. 

<«'  Does  it  not  enter  in  thy  crown 

"  Some  may  be  mouldy,  fome  be  brown, 

"  The  vacancies  with  leaves  fnpply  *d, 

"  And  feme  half  pick'd,  and  fome  half  dry'.d  I" 

The  merchant,  who  Tom  Catchup  knew, 

(A  merchant  and  a  fcholar  too) 

Said,"  What  I've  done  is  not  abfurd, 

"  I  know  my  chap,  and  take  his  word.— 

"  On  thee,  thou  caviller  at  large, 

«'  I  here  retort  thy  random  charge ; 

"  Who,  in  an  hyp^rcrkic  rage, 

?c  Judgeft  ten  volumes  by  a  page  ; 

"  Whofe  wond'rous  comprehensive  view 

**  Grafps  more  than  Solomon  e'er  knew1; 

"  With  every  thing  you  claim  alliance, 

*'  Art,  trade,  profeffion',  calling,  faience ; 

«e  You  mete  out  all  things  by  one  rule,  '• 

*'  And  are  an  univerfal  fool. 

"  Though  fwotn  with  vanity  and  pride, 

"  You're  but  one  driv'Ilpr  multiplied, 

"  A  prig — that  proves  himfetf  by  ftait*, 

f  As  many  dolts — as  there  are  arts." 

FABLE  H. 

THE  KNGtJSJl  BULL-DOG,  DUTCH  MASTIFF, 
AND  CMJA1JL. 

ARE  we  not  all  of  race  divine, 

Alike  of  an  immortal  line  ? 

Shall  man  to  man  afford  derifion, 

But  for  fome  cafual  divifion  ? 

To  malice  and  to  mifchief  prone, 

From  climate,  canton,  or  from  zone, 

Are  all  to  idle  difcord  bent, 

Thefe  Kentifh  men— thofe  men  of  Kent ; 

*  "  O,  gentle  lady,  do  not  put  me  to't, 
"  Ear  I  am  nothing,  if  not  critical." 

OTHELLO,  A<5t  a.  fcene  5. 


And  parties  and  diftin&ion  make, 
For  parties  and  diftin&ion's  fake. 
Souls  fprung  from  an  ethereal  flame, 
However  clad,  are  ftill  the  fame  ; 
Nor  fhould  we  judge  the  heart  or  head, 
By  air  we  breathe,  or  earth  we  tread. 
Dame  nature,  who,  all  meritorious, 
In  a  true  Englifhman  is  gloripus, 
Is  lively,  honeft,  brave,  and  bonny,   . 

1  In  Monfieur,  Taffy,  Teague,  an<i  Sawney. 
Give  prejudices  to  the  wind, 
And  let's  be  patriots  of  mankind. 
Bigots,  avaunt !  fenfe  can't  endure  ye, 
But  fabulifts  fhould  try  to  cure  ye. 
A  fnub-nbs'd  dog,  to  fat  inclin'd, 
Of  the  true  hogari-mogan  kind, 
The  favourite  of  an  Englifh  dame, 
Mynheer  Van  Trnmpo  was  his  name. 
One  morning  as  he  chanc'd  to  range, 
Met  honeft  Towzer  on  the  'Change; 
And  whom  have  we  got  here,  I  beg, 
Quoth  he,  and  lifted  up  his  leg ; 
An  Englifh  dog  can't  take  an  airing, 
But  foreign  fcoundrels  muft  be  flaring. 
I'd  have  your  French  dogs,  and  your  Spanifhs 
And  all  your  Dutch,  and  all  your  Danifh, 
By  which  out  fpecies  is  confounded, 

Be  hang'd,  be  poifon'd,  or  be  drowned ; 

No  mercy  on  the  race  fufpedted, 

Greyhounds  from  Italy  exceptect : 

By  them  my  dames  ne'er  prove  big  bellied, 

For  they  poor  toads  are  Farrinellied. 

Well,  of  all  dogs  it  (lands  confefs'd 

Your  Englifh  bull-dogs  are  the  beft ; 

I  fay  it,  and  will  fet  my  hand  to't; 

Cambden  records  it,  and  I'll  ft  and  to't. 

'Tis  true  we  have  too  much  urbanity, 

Somewhat  o'ercharg'd  with  foft  humanity; 

The  beft  things  mnS  find  food  for  railing, 

And  every  creature  has  its  failing. 

And  who  are  you  ?  reply'd  Van  Trump, 

(Curling  his  tail  upon  his  rump) 

Vaunting  the  regions  of  diftradiion, 

The  land  of  pa.rty  and  of  faction, 

[n  all  fair  Europe,  who  but  we 

For  national  economy ; 

For  wealth  and  peace,  that  have  more  charms, 

Than  learned  arts,  or  noify  arms. 

You  envy  us  our  dancing  bogs, 

With  all  the  mufic  of  the  frogs; 

[oin'd  to  the  Fretchfcutz's  bonny  loon, 

Vho  on  the  cymbal  grinds  the  tune.     ' 
or  poets,  and  the  mufes  nine, 

Jeyond  comparifon  we  •fhine ; 

how  we  warble  in  our  gizzards, 
With  X  X's,  H  H's,  and  with  Z  Z's. 

'or  fighting — now  you  think  I'm  joking  ^ 
We  love  it  better  far  than  fmoking. 
Afk  but  our  troops,  from  man  to  boy, 

Vhf  nil  furviv'd  at  Fontenoy.         '  • 

TIB  true,  as  friendsj  and  as  allies, 

Ve're  ever  ready  to  devife ;' 

)ur  loves,  or  any  kind  affiftance, 

'hat  may  be  granted  at  a  diftance; 

ut  if  you  go  to  "brag,  good  bye  t'  ye, 

^or  dare  to  brave' the  high  arid  mighty. 
Wrong  are  you  both,  rejoing  a  quail, 

onfin'd  within  its  wiry  jail  t 


POEMS. 


Frequent  from  realm  to  realm  I've  rang'd, 
And  with  the  feafons,  climates  chang'd. 
Mankind  is  not  fo  void  .of  grace, 
But  good  I've  found  in  every  place  : 
I've  teen  fincerity  in  France, 
Amongft  the  Germans  complaifance  ; 
In  foggy  Holland  wit  may  reign, 
I've  known  humility  in  Spain  ; 
Free'd  was  I  by  a  turban'd  Turk, 
Whofe  life  was  one  entire  good  work  ; 
And  in  this  land,  fair  freedom's  boaft, 
Behold  my  liberty  is  loft. 
Pefpis'd  Hibernia,  have  I  feen, 
Dejected  like  a  widow'd  queen  ; 
Her  robe  with  dignity  long  worn, 
And  cap  of  liberty  were  torn  ; 
Her  broken  fife,  and  harp  unftrung, 
On  the  uncultur'd  ground  were  flung  ; 
Down  lay  her  fpear,  defil'd  with  ruft, 
And  book  of  learning  in  the  duft  ; 
Her  loyalty  ftill  blamelefs  found, 
And  hofpitality  renown'd  : 
No  more  the  voice  of  fame  engrofs'd, 
In  difcontent  and  clamour  loft.  — 
Ah  !  dire  corruption,  art  thou  fpread, 
Where  never  viper  rear'd  its  head  ? 
And  didft  thy  baleful  influence  low, 
Where  hemlock  nor  the  nightfhade  grow. 
Haplefs,  difconfolate,  and  brave, 
Hibernia  !  who'll  Hibernia  fave  ? 
Who  (hall  affift  thee  in  thy  woe, 
Who  ward  from  thee  the  fatal  blow  ? 
*Tis  done,  the  glorious  work  is  done, 
All  thanks  to  Heav'n  and  Harrington. 

FABLE  III. 

FASHION  AND  NIGHT. 

**  Quam  molta  prava'atque  injufta  fiunt  moribus.' 


FASHION,  a  rnotely  nymph  of  yore, 
The  Cyprian  queen  to  Proteus  bore  : 
Various  herfelf  in  various  climes, 
She  moulds  the  manners  of  the  times  5 
And  turns  in  every  age  or  nation, 
The  chequer'd  wheel  of  variegation  ; 
True  female  that  ne'er  knew  her  wiH, 
\  Still  changing,  though  immortal  ftill. 
One  day  as  the  inconftant  maid 
Was  carelefs  on  her  fofa  laid, 
Sick  of  the  fun,  and  tir'd  with  light, 
She  thus  ifrvok'd  the  gloomy  night  : 
"  Come-—  thefe  malignant  rays  deftroy, 
•'  Thou  fcreen  of  fhamp,  and  rife  of  joy  ; 
41  Come  from  thy  weftern  ambufcade, 
**  Queen  of  the  rout  and  mafquerade  : 
*'  Nymph,  without  thee  no  cards  advance, 

Without  thee  halts  the  loit'ring  dance  ; 

Till  thou  approach,  all,  all's  reftraiijt, 

Nor  is  it  fafe  to  game  or  paint  ; 

The  belles  a,nd  beaux  thy  influence  alk, 

Put  on  the  univerfal  inaik. 
"  Let  us  invert,  in  thy  difguife, 
*'  Tha.t  odious  nature,  we  defpife." 
She  ceas'd  —  the  fable-mantled  dame 
With  flow  approach,  and  awful,  came: 


And  frowning  with  farcaftic  ftveer, 
Reproach'd  the  female  rioteer  : 
"  That  nature  you  abufe,  my  fair, 

Was  I  created  to  repair ; 

And  contrail  with  a  friendly  fliade, 

The  pictures  Heaven's  rich  pencil  made ; 

And  with  my  Sleep-alluring  dofc, 

To  give  laborious  art  repofe ; 

To  make  both  noife  and  adlion  ceafe, 

The  queen  of  fecrecy  and  peace. 

But  thou  a  rebel,  vile  and  vain, 

Uiurp'ft  my  lawful  old  domain ; 

My  fceptre  thou  affecYft  to  fway. 

And  all  the  various  hours  are  day ; 

With  clamours  of  unreal  joy, 

My  fifter  filence  you  deftroy ; 

The  blazing  lamps  unnatural  light 

My  eyeballs  weary  and  affright ; 

But  if  I  am  allowed  one  (hade, 

Which  no  intrufive  eyes  invade, 

There  all  th'  atrocious  imps  of  hell,    » 

Theft,  murder,  and  pollution  dwell : 

Thinks  tjien  how  much,  thou  toy  of  thaocej 

Thy  praife  is  likely  worth  t'  inhance ; 

Blind  thing  that  runn'ft  without  a  guide,       ,  - 

Thou  whirlpool  in  a  rufln'ng  tide, 

No  more  my  fame  with  praife  pollute, 

But  damn  me  into  fome  repute," 

FABLE  IV.       , 

WHERE'S  THE  POKER? 

THE  poker  loft,  poor  Sufan  ftorm'd,  .  .. 

And  all  the  rites  of  rage  perform'd ; 

As  icolding,  crying,  fwearing,  fweating, 

Abufing,  fidgetting,  and  fretting. 

"  Nothing  but  villany,  and  thieving ; 

"  Good  heavens !  what  a  world  we  live  in  I 

"  If  I  don't  find  it  in  the  morning, 

"  I'll  furely  give  my  matter  warning. 

"  He'd  better  far  fhut  up  his  doprs, 

'*  Than  keep  fuch  good  for  nothing  whores} 

««  For  wherefoe'er  their  trade  they  drive, 

«<  We  vartuom  bodies  cannot  thrive." 

Well  may  poor  Sufan  grunt  and  groan; 

Misfortunes  never  came  alone, 

But  tread  each  other's  heels  in  throngs, 

For  the  next  day  (he  loft  the  tongs : 

The  fait  box,  cullender,  and  pot, 

Soon  fliar'd  the  fame  untimely  lot. 

In  vain  (he  vails  and  wages  fpent 

On  new  ones — for  the  new  ones  went. 

There'd  been  (ftie  fwore),  fome  dev'l  or  witch  in , 

To  rob  or  plunder  all  the  kitchen. 

One  night  ftie  to  her  chamber  crept, 

(Where  for  a  month  foe  had  not  flept ; 

Her  mafter  being,  to  her  feeming, 

A  tetter  play-fellow  than  dreaming,) 

Curfe  on  the  author  of  thefe  wrongs, 

In  her  oivn  bed  flie  found  the  tongs, 

(Hang  Thomas  for  an  idle  joker)  ! 

In  her  own  bed  (he  found  the  poker ; 

With  falt-box,  pepper-box,  and  kettle, 

With  all  the  culinary  metal. 

Be  warn'd,  ye  fair,  by  Sufan *s  erodes, 
Keep  chafte,  and  guard  yourfelves  from  lofies; 
For  if  young  girls  delight  in  ki fling, 
No  wonder  tUat  t  he  poker's  miffipg, 
L  iitj 


THE  WORKS    OF   SMART. 


FABLE  Vi 


THE  TEA-POT  AND  SCRUBBING-BRUSH. 

A  TAWDRY  tea-pot,  a-la-mode, 

"Where  art  her  utmoft  (kill  beftow'd, 

Was  much  efteem'd  for  being  old, 

And  on  its  fides  with  red  and  gold 

Strange  beaits  were  drawn,  in  tafte  Chinefe, 

And  frightful  fifti,  and  hump-back  trees. 
High  in  an  elegant  beaufet, 

This  pompous  utenfil  was  fet, 

And  near  it,  on  a  marble  flab, 

Forfaken  by  fome  carelefs  drab, 

A  veteran  fcrubbing-brufh  was  plac'd, 

And  the  rich  furniture  difgrac'd. 

The  tea-pot  foon  began  to  flout, 

And  thus  its  venom  fpoutedout : 

"  Who  from  the  fcullery  or  yard, 

"  Brought  in  this  low,  this  vile  blackguard, 

"  And  laid  in  infolent  petition, 

"  Among  us  people  of  condition  ? 

"  Back  to  the  helper  in  the  (table, 
'  Scour  the  clofe-flool,  or  walh-houfe  table; 
'  Or  cleanfe  fome  horfing  block,  or  plank, 
'  Nor  dare  approach  us  folks  of  rank. 
'  Turn—brother  coffee-pot,  your  fpout, 
'  Obferve  the  nafty  ftinking  lout, 

"  Who  feems  to  fcorn  my  indignation, 

*    Nor  pays  due  homage  to  my  faihion  ; 

'    Take,  filver  fugar  dull,  a  view, 

4    And  coufm  cream  pot,  pray  do  you. 

'    Pox  on  you  all,"  replies  old  Scrub, 

'    Of  coxcombs  ye' confederate  club.;, 

"  Full  of  impertinence,  and  prate, 

*'  Ye  hate  all  things  that  are  feclate. 

"  None  but  fuch.ignorant  infernals, 

"  Judge  by  appearance,  and  externals; 
«  Train'd  up  in  toil  and  ufeful  knowledge, 
'  I'm  fellow  of  the  kitchen  college, 
'  And  with  the  mop,  my  old  aflbciate, 
{  The  family  affairs  negotiate.-— 
'  Am  foe  to  filth,  and  things  obfcene, 

"  Dirty  by  making  other?  clean. 

Not  fliining,  yet  I  caufe  to  fliine, 

My  roughnefs  makes  my  neighbours  fine  ; 

You're  fair  without,  but  foul  within, 

With  lha'me  impregnated,  and  fin  ; 

To  you  each  impious  fcandal's  owing, 

You  fet  each  goffip's  clack  a  going. — : — 

How  Parfon  Tythe  in  fecret  fins, 

And  how  Mifs  Dainty  brought  forth  twins : 

How  dear  delicious  Polly  Bloom, 

Owe*  all  her  fweetnefs  to  perfume  ; 

Though  grave  at  church,  at  cards  can  bet, 

At  once  a  prude  and  a  coquette. 

'Twas  better  for  each  Britifh  virgin. 
When  on  roaft  beef,  ftrong  beer,  and  fturgeon, 
Joyous  to  breakfaft  they  fet  round, 
Nor  were  aiham'd  to  eat  a  pound. 
Thefe  were  the  manners,  thefe  the  ways, 
Iti  good  Queen  Befs's  golden  days ; 
Each  damlel  ow'd  her  bloom  and  glee, 
To  wholefome  elbow-greafe,  and  me, 
But  now  they  centre  all  their  joys 
In  empty  rattle  traps  and  noife. 
Thus  where  the  fates  fend  you,  they  fend 
.«'  Fiagitious  times,  which  ne'er 


"  Till  fome  philofopher  can  find 

««  A  fcrubbing-brufli  to  fcour  the  mind. 

FABLE  VI. 

THE  DUELLIST. 

WHAT'S  honour,  did  your  lordlhip  fay  ? 

My  lord,  I  humbly  crave  a  day. 

'Tis  difficult,  and  in  my  mind, 
Like  fubftance,  cannot  be  defin'd- 
It  deals  in  numerous  externals, 
And  is  a  legion  of  infernal*; 
Sometimes  in  riot  and  in  play, 
'  i'is  breaking  of  the  Sabbath  day ; 
When  'tis  conlider'd  as  a  pafiion, 
I  deem  it  luft  and  fornication. 
We  pay  our  debts  in  honour's  caufe, 
Loft  in  the  breaking  of  the  laws. 
'Tis  for  fome  felfifli  impious  end, 
To  murder  the  fincereft  friend; 
But  would  you  alter  all  the  cla'n, 
Turn  out  an  honourable  man. 
Why  take  a  piftol  from  the  flielf, 
And  fight  a  duel  with  yourfelf. — 
Twas  on  a  time,  the  Lord  knows  when, 
In  Ely,  or  in  Lincoln  fen, 
A  frog  and  moufe  had  long  difputes, 
Held  in  the  language  of  the  brutes, 
Who  of  a  certain  pool  and  pafture, 
Should  be  the  fovereign  and  matter.  , 

Sir,  fays  the  frog,  and  d-.-n'd  his  blood, 
I  hold  that  my  pretenfion's  good  ; 
Nor  can  a  brute  of  reafon  doubt  it, 
For  all  that  you  can'fqueak  about  it. 
The  mo-ale  averfe  to  be  o'erpower'd, 
Gave  him  the  lie,  and  call'd  him  coward  ; 
Too  hard  for  any  frog's  digeftion, 
To  have  his  froghood  call'd  in  queftion  ! 
A  bargain  inftantly  was  made, 
No  moufe  of  honour  could  evade. 
On  the  next  morn,  as  foon  as  light, 
With  defperate  bullruflies  to  fight ; 
The  morning  came — and  man  to  man, 
The  gnmd  monomachy  began; 
Need  I  recount  how  each  bravado' 
Shone  in  motant  ar.d  in  paffado ; 
To  what  a  height  their  ire  theycarry'd, 
How  oft  they  thrufted  and  they  parry 'd  j- 
But  as  thefe  champions  kept  difpenfing, 
Finefies  in  the  art  of  fencing, 
A  furious  vulture  took  upon  her, 
.Quick  to  decide  this  point  of  honour, 
And,  lawyer  like,  to  make  an  end  on't, 
Devour'd  both  plaintiff  and  defendant. 
Thus,  often  in  our  Britifh  nation 
(I  fpeak  by  way  of  application), 
A  lie  diredl  to  fome  hot  youth. 
The  giving  which  perhaps  was  truth, 
The  treading  on  a  icoundrel's  toe, 
Or  dealing  impudence  a  blow, 
Difputes  in  politics  and  law, 
About  a  feather. and  a  ftraw; 
A  thoufancl  trifles  not  worth  naming, 
In  whoring,  jockeying,  and  gaming, 
Shall  caufe  a  challenge's  inditing, 
And  fet  two  loggerheads  a  fighting ; 
Meanwhile  the  father  of  defpair, 
The  prin,ce  of  vanity  and  air, 


POEMS. 


169 


His  querry,  like  an  hawk  difcovcring, 
O'er  their  devoted  heads  hangs  hovering, 
Secure  to  get  in  his  tuition, 
Thefe  volunteers  for  black  perdition. 

FABLE  VII. 

THE  COUNTRY   SQJJ1RK  AND  THE  MANDRAKE. 

THE  fun  had  rais'd  above  the  mead, 
His  glorious  horizontal  head  ; 
Sad  Philomela  left  her  thorn ; 
The  lively  linnets  hymn'd  the  morn, 
And  nature,  like  a  waking  bride, 
Her  blufhes  fpread  on  ev'ry  fide; 
The  cock  as  ufual  crow'd  up  Tray4 
Who  nightly  with  his  mailer  lay; 
The  faithful  fpaniel  gave  the  word, 
Trelooby  at  the  fignal  ftirr'd, 
And  with  his  gun,  from  wood  to  wood, 
The  man  of  prey  his  courfe  purfu'd; 
The  dew  and  herbage  all  around, 
Like  pearls  and  emeralds  on  the  ground  ; 
Th'  uncultur'd  flowers  that  rudely  rife, 
"Where  fmiling  freedom  art  defies ; 
The  lark,  .in  t;ranfport,  tow'ring  high, 
The  crimfon  curtains  of  the  fky, 
Affe&ed  not  Trelooby's  mind— 
For  what  is  beauty  to  the  blind  ? 
Th'  amorous  voice  of  fylvan  love, 
Form'd  charming  concerts  in  the  grove ; 
Sweet  zephyr  figh'd  on  Flora's  breaft, 
And  drew  the  blackbird  from  his  neft  ; 
Whittling  he  leapt  from  leaf  to  leaf; 
But  what  is  mufic  to  the  deaf? 

At  length,  while  poring  on  the  ground, 
With  monumental  look  profound, 
A  curious  vegetable  caught 
His — fomething  fimilar  to  thought : 
Wond'ring,  he  ponder'd,  (looping  low, 
(Trelooby  always  lov'd  a  mow) 
And  on  the  mandrake's  vernal  flation, 
Star'd  with  prodigious  obfervation. 
Th'  affronted  mandrake  with  a  frown, 
Addrefs'd  in  rage  the  wealthy  clown. 

"  Proud  member  of  the  rambling  race, 
"  That  vegetate  from  place  to  place, 
"  Purfue  the  leveret  at  large, 
"  Nor  near  thy  blunderbufs  difcharge. 
"  Difdainful  though  thou  look'fl  on  me, 
"  What  art  thou  or  what  can'ft  thou  be  ? 
"  Nature,  that  mark'd  thee  as  a  fool, 
"  Gave  no  materials  for  the  fchool. 
"  In  what  confifts  thy  work  and  fame  ? 
"  The  prefervation  of  the  game.— 
c  For  what  ?  thou  avaricious  elf, 

But  to  deftroy  it  all  thyfelf ; 

To  lead  a  life  of  drink  and  feaft, 

T'  opprefs  the  poor,  and  cheat  the  prieft, 

Or  triumph  in  a  virgin  loft, 
c  Is  all  the  manhood  thou  canft  boaft.— 
'  Pretty,  in  nature's  various  plan, 

To  fee  a  weed  that's  like  a  man ; 
"  But  'tis  a  grievous  thing  indeed, 
"  To  fee  a  man  ib  like  a  weed." 

FABLE  VIII. 

THE  BROCADED  GOWN  AND  UNIN  RAO. 

FROM  a  fine  lady  to  her  maid, 
A  gown  defceuded  of  brocade. 


French !— Yes,  from  Paris — that's  enough, 
That  wou'd  give  dignity  to  fluff. 
By  accident  or  by  defign, 
Or  from  feme  caiife,  I  can't  divine ; 
A  linen  rag  (fadfource  of  wrangling) ! 
On  a  contiguous  peg  \vas  dangling-* 
Vilely  beimear'd— tor  late  his 
It  ferv'd  in  quality  of  plainer. 
The  gown,  contemptuous  beholder, 
Gave  a  French  fhrug  from  either  fhoulder, 
And  ruftling  with  emotions  furious, 
Befpoke  the  rag  in  terms  injurious. 
"  Unfit  for  tinder,  lint  or  fodder, 
'  Thou  thing  of  filth  (and  what  is  odder), 
'  Difcarded  from  thy  owner's  back, 
'  Dar'ft  thou  proceed,  and  fold  attack  ? 
'  Inflant  away — or  in  this  place, 
'  Begar  me  give  you  coup  dt grace." 

To  this  reply'd  the  honeft  rag, 
Who  lik'd  a  jell,  and  was  a  wag : 

"  Though  thy  glibe  tongue  without  a  lialt  run^ 
"  Thou  fhabby  fecond-hand  fubaltern, 
"  At  once  fo  ancient  and  fo  eafy, 

At  once  fo  gorgeous  and  fo  greafy ; 

I  value  not  thy  gafconading, 

Nor  all  thy  alamode  parading ; 

But  to  abftain  from  words  imperieui, 

And  to  be  fober,  grave,  and  ferious. 

Though  fays  friend  Horace,  'tis  no  treafon, 

At  once  to  giggle,  and  to  reafon, 

When  me  you  lefien,  friend,  you  dream, 

For  know  I  am  not  what  I  feem ; 

Soon  by  the  mill's  refining  motion, 

The  fweeteft  daughter  nf  the  ocean, 

Fair  Medway,  fhall  with  fnowy  hue, 

My  virgin  purity  renew, 

And  give  me  reinform'd  exiftence, 

A  good  retention  and  fubfiflence. 

Then  fhall  the  fons  of  genius  join, 

To  make  my  fccond  lite  divine. 

O  Murray,  let  me  then  difpenfe, 

Some  portion  of  thy  eloquence ; 

For  Greek  and  Roman  rhetoric  fhine, 

United  and  hnprov'd  in  thine. 

The  fpirit  ftirring  *  fage  alarms, 

And  Ciceronian  fweetnefs  charms. 

Th'  Athenian  Akenfide  may  deign 

To  (lamp  me  deathlefs  with  his  pen. 

While  flows  approv'd  by  all  the  nine 

Th'  immortal  foul  of  every  line. 

Collins,  perhaps,  his  aid  may  lend, 

Melpomene's  fele&ed  friend. 

Perhaps  our  great  Auguftan  Gray 

May  grace  me  with  a  Doric  lay  ; 

With  fweet,  with  manly  words  of  woe, 

That  nervoufly  pathetic  flow, 

What,  Mafon,  may  I  owe  to  you  ? 

Learning's  firft  pride,  and  nature's  too; 

On  thee  fhe  caft  her  fweeteft  fmile, 

And  gave  thee  art's  correcting  file ; 

That  file,  which  with  affiduous  pain, 

The  viper  envy  bites  in  vain.— 

Such  glories  my  mean  lot  betjde, 

Hear,  tawdry  fool,  and  check  thy  pride.— 

Thou,  after  fcouring,  dying,  turning, 

(If  haply  thou  efcape  a  burning) 


170 


THE   WORKS   OF  SMART. 


"  From  gown  to  petticoat  defcending, 

"  And  in  a  beggar's  mantle  ending, 

"  Shalt  in  a  dunghill  or  a  Itye, 

"  'Midft  filth  and  vermin  rot  and  die." 

FABLE  IX. 

MADAM    AND    THE    MAGPIE. 

YE  thunders  roll,  ye  oceans  roar, 
And  wake  the  rough  refounding  fhore ; 
Ye  guns  in  fmoke  and  flames  engage, 
And  fhake  the  raniparts  with  your  rage ; 
Boreas  diftend  your  chops  and  blow  ; 
Ring,  ring, ye  bonny  bells  of  Bow; 
Ye  drums  and  .rattles,  rend  the  ears, 
Like  twenty  thoufand  Southwark  fairs; 
Bellow  ye  bulls,  and  bawl  ye  bats, 
Encore,  encore,  ye  amorous  cats : 
In  vafn  poor  thing*  ye  fqueak  a  fquall, 
Soft  Sylvia  ftiall  out-tongue  you  all : 
But  here  fhe  comes — there's  no  relief, 
She  comes,  and  bleffed  are  the  deaf. 
"  A  magpie  !  why,  you're  mad,  my  dear, 
•'  To  bring  a  chattering  magpie  here. 
"  A  prating  play-thing,  fit  for  boys— 
"  You  know  I  can't  endure  a  noife. — 
"  You  brought  this  precious  prefcnt  fure, 
"  My  headach  and  my  cough  to  cure. 
"  Pray  hand  him  in  and  let  him  ftain 
"  Each  curtain,  and  each  counterpane; 
"  Yes,  h,e  fliall  rooft  upon  my  toilet, 

*  Or  on  my  pillow — he  can't  fpoil  it : 

**  He'll  only  make  me  catch  my  death.— 

"  O  heavens !  for  a  little  breath  I— 

"  Thank  God,  I  never  knew  refentment, 

«'  But  am  all  patience  and  contentment, 

"  Or  elfe,  you  paltry  knave,  I  fhould 

"  (As  any  other  woman  would) 

«'  Wring  off  his  neck,  and  down  your  gullet 

"  Cram  it  by  way  of  chick  or  pullet.— 

«'  Well,  I  muft  lock  up  all  my  rings, 

"  My  jewels,  and  my  curious  things : 

««  My  Chipefe  toys  muft  go  to  pot ; 

"  My  dear,  my  pinchbecks — and  what  not  ? 

•*  For  all  your  magpies  are,  like  lawyers, 

"  At  once  thieves,  brawlers,  and  deftroyers.- 

"  You  for  a  wife  have  fearch'd  the  globe, 

*  You've  got  a  very  female  Job, 

"  Pattern  of  love,  and  peace  and  unity, 

"  Or  how  could  you  expecl  impunity  ? 

"  O  Lord  !  this  nafty  thing  will  bite, 

"  And  fcratch  and  clapper,  claw  and  fight. 

"  O  monftrous  wretch,  thus  to  devile, 

«  To  tear  out  your  poor  Sylvia's  eyes. 

"  You're  a  fine  Popifli  plot  purfuing, 

«  By  pretents  to  affe<2  my  ruin ; 

"  And  thus  for  good  are  ill  retorting  ? 

«  To  me?  who  brought  you  fuch  a  fortune ; 

"  To  me,  you  low-liv'd  clown,  to  me, 

«  Who  came  of  fuch  a  family ; 

«  Me,  who  for  age  to  age  poffefs'd 

«'  A  lion  rampant  on  my  creft ; 

"  Me,  who  have  fill'd  your  empty  coffers, 

«  Me,  who'd  fo  many  better  offers ; 

"  And  is  my  merit  thus  regarded, 

"  Cuckold,  my  virtue  thus  rewarded. 

««  O  'tis  paft  fufferance — Mary— Mary,    " 

u  1  faint— the  citerpn,  or  the  clary. 


The  poor  man,  who  had  bought  the  creature. 
Out  of  pure  conjugal  good-nature, 
Stood  at  this  violent  attack, 
Like  ftatues  made  by  Roubilliac, 
Though  form'd  beyond  all  fkill  antique, 
They  can't  their  marble  filence  break ; 
They  only  breathe,  and  think,  and  ftart, 
Aftonifh'd  at  their  maker's  art. 
"  Quoth  Mag,  fair  Grizzle,  I  muft  grant, 
"  Your  fpoufc  a  magpie  cannot  want : 
"  For  troth  (to  give  the  dev'l  his  due) 
"  He  keeps  a  rookery  in  you. 
"  Don't  fear  I'll  tarry  long,  fweet  lady, 
"  Where  there  is  din  enough  already, 
"  We  never  fhould  agree  together, 
"  Although  we're  fo  much  of  a  feather ; 
"  You're  fond  of  peace,  no  man  can  doubt  it, 
"  Who  make  fuch  wond'rous  noife  about  it, 
"  And  your  tongue  of  immortal  mould 
"  Proclaims  in  thunder  you're  no  fcold. 
"  Yes,  yes,  you're  fovereign  of  the  tongy^, 
"  And,  like  the  king,  can  do  no  wrong; 
"  Juftly  your  fpoufe  reftrains  his  voice, 
"  Nor  vainly  anfwers  words  with  noife ; 
"  This  ftorm,  which  no  foul  can  endure, 
"  Requires  a  very  different  cure ; 
"  For  fuch  four  verjuice  dilpoii lions, 
«  Your  crabfticks  are  the  beft  phyficians.'' 

FABLE  X. 

THE    BLOCKHEAD    AND    BEEHIVE. 

THE  fragrance  of  the  new-mown,  hay 
Paid  incenfe  to  the  god  «f  day ; 
Who  iffuing  from  his  eaftern  gate. 
Refplendent  rode  in  all  his  ftate, 
Rous'd  by  the  ligKt  from  foft  repofc, 
Big  with  the  mufc,  a  bard  arofe, 
And  the  frefh  garden's  flill  retreat 
He  meafur'd  With  poetic  feet. 
The  cooling,  high,  o'er-arching  fhadc, 
By  the  embracing  branches  made, 
The  fmooth  fhoril  fod,  whofe  verdant  glofs, 
Was  check'-d  with  intermingled  mofs, 
Cbwflips,  like  topazes  that  mine," ' 
Clofe  by  the  filver  ferpentine, 
Rude  ruftics  which  affert  the  bow'rs, 
Amidft  the  educated  flow'rs, 
The  lime  tree  and  fweet-fcented  hay, 
(The  fole  reward  of  many  a  lay) 
And  all  the  poets  of  the  wing,   ' 
Who  fweetly  without  falary  fing, 
Attract  at  once  his  obfervation, 
Peopling  thy  wilds,  imagination  * 
"  Sweet  nature,  who  this  turf  bedews, 
"  Sweet  nature,  who's  the  thrufh's  mufe  I 
"  How  fhe  each  anxious  thought  beguiles, 
"  And  meets  me  with  ten  thoufand  fhiUes1 
'«  O  infinite  benignity ! 
"  She  fmiles,  but  not  alone  on  me ; 
"  On  hill,  on  dale,  on  lake,  on  lawn, 
"  Like  CelZa  when  her  pidure's  drawn  • 
«  Affuming  countlefs  charms  and  airs, 
;  'Till  Hayman's  matchlefs  art  defpairs, 

Paufing  like  me  he  dreads  to  fall 
"  From  the  divine  original." 

More  had  he  faid — but  in  there  came 
A  lout — Squire  Booby  was  his  namo— 


POEMS. 


The  bard,  who  at  a  difhtnt  vievr, 

The  bufy  prattling  blockhead  knew, 

Retir'd  into  a  fecret  nook, 

And  thence  his  obfervations  took. 

Vex'd  he  could  find  no  man  to  teaze. 

The  'fquire  'gan  chattering  to  the  bees, 

And  pertly  with  officious  mien, 

He  thus  addrefs'd  their  humming  queen : 

*'  Madam,  be  not  in  any  terrors, 

"  I  only  come  t'  amend  your  errors ; 

"  My  friendfhip  briefly  to  difplay, 

44  And  put  you  in  a  better  way. 

"  Ceafe,  Madam*  (if  I  may  advife) 

"  To  carry  honey  on  your  thighs, 

"  Employ  ('tis  better,  I  aver) 

"  Old  Grub  the  fairies  coach-maker ; 

"  For  he  who  hasfufficient  art 

"  To  make  a  coach,  may  make  a  cart. 

"  To  the-fe  you'll  yoke  fome  fixteen  bees, 

*'  Who  will  difpatch  your  work  with  eafe  ; 

"  And  come  acd  go,  and  go  and  c»rne, 

**  To  bring  your  honey  harveft  home. — 

?  Ma'm,  architecture  you're  not  (kill'd  in, 

"  T  don't  approve  your  way  of  building  ; 

"  In  this  there's  nothing  like  defign', 

•'  Pray  learn  the  ufe  of  Gunter's  line. 

"  I'll  ferve  your  highnefs  at  a  pinch, 

44  I  am  a  fcholar  every  inch, 

"  And  know  each  author  I  lay  fift  on, 

"  From  Archimedes  dcwn  to  Whifton.— . 

44  Though  honey  making  be  yotir  trade, 

41  In  chemiftry  you  want  fome  aid. — 

44  Pleas'd  with  your  work,  although  you  fing, 

"  You're  not  quite  right— 'tis  not  the  thing, 

44  Myfelf  would  gladly  be  an  after, 

44  To  help  the  honey  manufacture.--- 

44  I  hear  for  war  you  are  preparing, 

<4  Which  I  fliould  like  to  have  a  (hare  in ; 

4<  Yet  though  the  enemy  be  landing. 

*'    Tis  wrong  to  keep  an  army  Handing.--. 

"  It' you'll  enfure  me  from  the  laws 

*'  I'll  write  a  pamphlet  in  your  caufe.— 

41  I  vow  I  am  concern'd  to  fee 

"  Your  want  of  ftate — economy. 

4<  Of  nothing  living  I  pronounce  ill, 

"  But  I  don't  like  your  privy-council.'' 

"  There  is,  I  know,  a  certain  bee, 

4<  (Would  he  w&s  from  the  miniftry) 

4<  Which  certain  bee,  if  rightly  known, 

«'  WTould  prove  no  better  than  a  drone ; 

4'  There  are  (but  I  fiiall  name  no  names, 

44  I  never  love  to  kindle  flames) 

44  A  pack  of  rogues  with  crimes  grown  callous, 

*'  Vk'ho  greatly  would  adorn  the  gallows  ; 

44  That  with  the  %vafps,  for  paltry  gold, 

**  A  fecret  correfpondence  hold, 

*4  Yet  you'll  be  great— -your  fubjects  free, 

44  If  the  whole  thing  be  left  to  me." — 

Thus,  like  the  waters  of  the  ocean, 
His  tongue  had  run  in  ceafelefs  motion, 
Had  not  the  queen  ta'en    p  in  wrath, 
This  thing  of  folly  and  of  froth. 

41  Impertinent  and  witlefs  meddler, 
u  Thou  ("mattering,  empty,  noify  pedlar  ! 
41  By  vanity,  thou  bladder  blown, 
"  To  be  the  football  of  the  town. 
,"  O  happy  England,  land  of  freedom, 
*'  Replete  -.vita  fiaiefrnen,  if  /he  need  'em, 


44  Where  war  is  wag'd  by  Sue  or  Nell, 
44  And  Jobfon  is  a  Machiavel  !— 
"  Tell  Hardwick  that  his  judgment  fails, 
41  Show  Juftice  how  to  hold  her  icales.— 
*4  To  fire  the  foul  at  once,  and  pleafe, 
'  Teach  Murray  and  Demotthenes ; 
'  Say  Vane  is  not  by  goodnefs  grac'd, 
'  And  wants  humanity  and  tafte.— 
4  Though  Pelhara  with  Maecenas  vies, 
4  Tell  fame  flic's  falfe,  and  truth  (he  lies  ; 
'  And  then  return,  thou  verbal  Hector, 
14  And  give  the  bees  another  lecture." 

This  faid,  the  portal  /he  unbarr'd, 
Calling  the  bees  upon  their  guard, 
And  fet  at  once  about  his  ears 
Ten  thoufand  of  her  granadiers.— 
Some  on  his  lips  and  palate  hung, 
And  the  offending  member  ftung. 
44  Juft  (fays  the  bard  from  out  the  grot) 
"  Juft,  though  fevere,  is  your  fad  lot, 
"   Who  think,  and  talk,  and  live  in  vain, 
44  Of  fweet  fociety  the  bane. 
"  Bufinefs  mifplac'd  is  a  mere  jefl, 
14  And  active  Ullenefs  at  belt." 


171 


.  XL 

THE   CITIZEN   AND   THE    RED   LION   OF   JRENt- 
FORD. 

I  IOVE  my  friend — but  love  my" eafe, 

And  claim  a  right  myfelf  to  pleafe  j 

To  company  however  prone, 

At  times  all  men  would  be  alone. 

Free  from  each  interruption  rude, 

Or  what  is  meant  by  folitude. 

My  villa  lies  within  the  bills, 

So — like  a  theatre  it  fills: 

To  me  my  kind  acquaintance  ftray, 

And  Sunday  proves  no  Sabbath  day; 

Yet  many  a  friend  and  near  relation,  j.  » 

3V1  ake  up  a  glorious  congregation ; 

They  crowd  by  dozens  and  by  dozens,  T  u 

And  bring  me  all  their  country  coufins. 

Though  cringing  landlords  on  the  road. 

Who  find  for  man  and  horle  abode; 

Though  gilded  grapes  to  fign-poft  chain'i, 

Invite  them  to  be  entertain'd, 

And  Itraddling  crofs  his  kilderkin, 

Though  jolly  Bacchus  calls  them  in  ; 

NTay — though  my  landlady  would  truft  'em, 

Pilgarlick's  lure  of  ajl  the  cuftom; 

And  his  whole  houfe  is  like  a  fair, 

Unlefs  he  only  treats  with  sjr. 

What !  fliftll  each  pert  half  wilted  wit, 

That  calls  me  Jack,  or  calls  me  Kit, 

Prey  on  my  time,  or  on  my  table  ? 

No — but  let's  hallen  to  the  fable. 

The  eve  advanc'd,  the  fun  declin'd. 
Ball  to  the  booby-hutch  was  join'd, 
A  wealthy  cockney  drove  away, 
To  celebrate  Saint  Saturday ; 
Wife,  daughter,  pug,  all  crowded  in, 
To  meet  at  country  houfe  their  kin. 
Through  Brentford,  to  fair  Twickenham's  bow'n, 
The  ungreafed  grumbling  axle  fcow'rs, 
To  pafs  in  rural  fweets  a  day, 
3ut  there's  a  lion  in  the  way ; 


172 


THE  WORKS   OF  SMART. 


The  lion  a  moft  furious  elf. 
Hung  up  to  reprefent  himfelf, 
Redden'd  with  rage,  and  fhook  his  mane, 
And  roar'd>  and  roar'd,  and  roar'd  again. 
Wond'rous,  though  painted  on  a  board, 
He  roar'd,  and  roar'd,  and  roar'd,  and  roar'd. 
44  Fool  I  (fays  the  majefty  of  beafts) 
*'  At  whofe  expence  a  legion  feafts, 
•*  Foe  to  yourfelf,  you  thofe  purfue, 
44  Who're  eating  up  your  cakes  and  you ; 
*'  Walk  in,  walk  in,  fo  prudence  votes, 
"  And  give  poor  Ball  a  feed  of  oats, 
•'  Look  to  yourfelf,  and  as  for  Ma'm, 
44  Coax  her  to  take  a  little  dram  ; 
"  Let  Mifs  and  pug  with  cakes  be  fed 
"  Then  honeft  man  go  back  to  bed  ;  ' 
44  Yon're  better,  and  you're  cheaper  there, 
•«  Where  are  no  hangers  on  to  fear. 
"  Go  buy  friend  Newberry's  new  Pantheon 
44  And  con  the  tale  of  poor  Acleon, 
4  Horn'd-by  Diana,  and  o'erpower'd, 
4  And  by  the  dogs  he  fed  devour'd. 
'  What  he  receiv'd  from  charity, 
'  Lewdnefs  perhaps  may  give  to  thee  ; 
'  And  though  your  fpoufe  my  lecture  fcorns, 
44  Beware  his  fate,  beware  his  horns." 

"  Sir,"  fays  the  cit,  (who  made  a  ftand, 
And  ftrok'd  his  forehead  with  his  hand) 
44  By  your  grim  gravity  and  grace, 
**  You  greatly  would  become  the  mace. 
*'  This  kind  advice  I  gladly  take, — 
"  Draw'r,  bring  the  dram,  and  bring  a  cake, 
«'  With  good  brown  beer  that's  brilk  and  hum- 

'*  ming. 

"  A  coming,  Sir '.  a  coming,  coming  '." 
The  cit  then  took  a  hearty  draught, 
And  fliook  his  jolly  fides  and  laugh'd. 
Then  to  the  king  of  beafts  he  bow'd, 
And  thus  his  gratitude  avow'd.--- 
44  Sir,  for  your  fapient  oration, 
«'  I  owe  the  greateft  obligation. 
44  You  ftand  expos'd  to  fun  and  fliow'r, 
•'  I  know  Jack  Ellis  of  the  tow'r ; 
*'  By  him  you  foon  may  gain  renown, 
"  He'll  (how  your  highnefs  to  the-town ; 
44  Or,  if  you  choofe  your  ftation  here, 
•'  To  call  forth  Britons  to  their  beer, 
44  As  painter  of  diftinguifh'd  note, 
4'  He'll  fend  his  man  to  clean  your  coat." 
The  lion  thank'd  him  for  his  proffer, 
And  if-a  vacancy  mould  offer, 
Declar'd  he  had  too  juft  a  notion, 
To  be  averfe  to  fuch  promotion. 
The  citizen  drove  off  with  joy, 
*'  For  London — ball — for  London — hoy.'* 
Content  to  bed,  he  went  his  way, 
And  is  no  bankrupt  to  this  day. 

FABLE  XII. 

THE  HERALD  AND  HUSBANDMAN. 

'Nobilitas  fola  eft  atque  unica  virtus. 

JuvENAX. 

I  WITH  friend  Juvgnal  agree, 
Virtue's  the  true  nobility ; 
Has  of  herfelf  fufficient  charms, 
Although  without  a  coat  of  arms. 


Honeftus  does  not  know  the  rules, 

Concerning  Or,  and  Fez,  and  Gules, 

Yet  fets  the  wond'ring  eye  to  gaze  on, 

Such  deeds  no  herald  e'er  could  blaze  on. 

Tawdry  atchievements  out  of  place, 

Do  but  augment  a  fool's  difgrace ; 

A  coward  is  a  double  jeft, 

Who  has  a  lion  for  his  creft ; 

And  things  are  come  to  fuch  a  pafs, 

Two  horfes  may  fupport  an  afs  ; 

And  on  a  gameiter  or  buffoon, 

A  moral  motto's  a  lampoon. 

An  honeft  ruftic  having  done 

His  matter's  work  'twixt  fun  and  fun, 

Retir'd  to  drefs  a  little  fpot, 

Adjoining  to  his  homely  cot, 

Where  pleas'd,  in  miniature,  he  found 

His  landlord's  culinary  ground, 

Some  herbs  that  feed,  and  fome  that  heal, 

The  winter's  medicine  or  meal. 

The  fage,  which  in  his  garden  feen, 

No  man  need  ever  die  *  I  ween  ; 

The  marjorum  comely  to  behold, 

With  thyme,  and  ruddieft  marygold, 

And  mint  and  pennyroyal  fweet, 

To  deck  the  cottage  windows  meet ; 

And  balm,  that  yields  a  finer  juice 

Than  all  that  China  can  produce  ; 

With  carrots  red,  and  turnips  white, 

And  leeks  Cadwallader's  delight ; 

And  all  the  favory  crop  that  vie 

To  pleafe  the  palate  and  the  eye'. 

Thus,  as  intent,  he  did  furvey 

His  plot,  a  herald  came  that  way, 

A  man  of  great  efcutcheon'd  knowledge, 

And  member  of  the  motley  college. 

Heedlefs  the  peafant  pafs'd  he  by, 

Indulging  this  foliloquy  ; 

"  Ye  gods !  what  an  enormous  fpace; 

'  'Twixt  man  and  man  does  nature  place; 

'  While  fome  by  deeds  of  honour  rife, 

'  To  fuch  a  height,  as  far  outvies 

*  The  vilible  diurnal  fphere  ; 

4  While  others,  like  this  ruftic  here, 
<4  Grope  in  the  grovelling  ground  content, 
"  Without  or  lineage  or  defcent. 
"  Hail,  heraldry  !  myfterious  art, 
"  Bright  patronefs  of  all  defert, 
44  Mankind  would  on  a  level  lie, 
44  And  undiftinguifh'd  live  and  die ; 
"  Depriv'd  of  thy  illuftrious  aid, 
44  Such  !  fo  momentous  is  our  trade. 

44  Sir,"  fays  the  clown,  44  why  fure  you  jofce, 

"  (And  kept  on  digging  as  he  fpoke) 

44  And  prate  not  to  extort  conviction, 

14  But  merrily  by  way  of  fiction. 

*'  Say,  do  your  manufcripts  atteft, 

<4  What  was  old  father  Adam's  creft  ; 

44  Did  he  a  nobler  coat  receive 

44  In  right'of  marrying  Mrs.  Eve  ; 

44  Or  had  fupporters  when  he  kifs'd  her, 

"•  On  dexter  fide,  and  fide  finifter ; 

44  Or  was  his  motto,  prithee  fpeak, 

41  Englifli,  French,  Latin,  Welph,  or  Greek  ? 

*  «  Cur  moriatur  homo,  ciu  falvia  crefcit  ia 
M  horto;" 


POEMS. 


Or  was  he  not,  without  a  lie, 

Juft  fuch  a  nobleman  as  I  ? 

Virtue,  which  great  defects  canftifle, 

May  beam  diftinction  on  a  trifle ; 

And  honour,  with  her  native  charms, 

May  beautify  a  coat  of  arms  ; 

Realities  fometimes  will  thrive, 

E'en  by  appearance  kept  alive  ; 

But  by  themfelves,  Gules,  Or,  and  Fez, 

Are  cyphers,  neither  more  or  lefs : 

Keep  both  thyhead  and  hands  from  crimes, 
'  Be  honeft  in  the  worft  of  times : 
"  Health's  on  my  countenance  imprefs'd, 
"  And  fweet  content's  my  daily  gueft, 
"  My  fame  alone  I  build  on  this, 
"  And  Garter  King  at  arms  may  kifs."— 

FABLE  XIII. 

A  STORY  OF  A  COCK  AN*  A  JCLL. 

YES — we  excel  in  arts  and  arms,  • 

In  learning's  lore,  and  beauty's  charms. 

The  feas  wide  empire  we  engrofs, 

All  nations  hail  theBritifn  crols; 

The  land  of  liberty  we  tread, 

And  woe  to  his  devoted  head, 

Who  dares  the  contrary  advance, 

One  EnglHhman's  worth  ten  of  France. 

Thefe  thefe  are  truths  what  man  won't  write  for, 

Won't  fvvcar,  won't  bully,  or  won't  fight  for ; 

Yet  (though  perhaps  I  fpeak  through  vanity) 

Would  we'd  a  little  more  humanity ; 

Too  far,  I  fear,  I've  drove  the  jeft, 

So  leave  to  cock  and  bull  the  reft. 

A  bull  who'd  liften'd  to  the  vows 
Of  above  fifteen  hundred  cows ; 
And  fcrv'd  his  mafter  frefh  and  freih,  !?  V 

With  hecatombs  of  fpecial  flefh, 
Like  to  an  hermit  or  a  dervife, 
(Grown  old  and  feeble  in  the  fervice) 
Now  left  the  meadow's  green  parade, 
And  fought  a  folitary  {hade. 
The  cows  proclaim'd  in  mournful  lowing, 
The  bull's  deficiency  in  wooing, 
And  to  their  difappointed  mailer, 
All  told  the  terrible  difafter. 

"  Is  this  the  cafe  (quoth  Hodge)  O  rare ! 
"  But  hold,  to-morrow  is  the  fair. 
"  Thou  to  thy  doom,  old  boy,  are  fated, 
"  To-morrow— and  thou  fhalt  be  baited." 
The  deed  was  done — curfe  on  the  wrong  I 
Bloody  defcription,  hold  thy  tongue- 
Victorious  yet  the  bull  return'd, 
And  with  ftern  filence  inly  mourn'd. 

A  vet'ran,  brave,  majeflic  cock, 
Who  ferv'd  for  hour  glafs,  guard  and  clock, 
Who  crow'd  the  manlion's  firft  relief, 
Alike  from  goblin  and  from  thief; 
Whofe  youth  efcap'd  the  Chriftmas  fkillet, 
Whofc  vigour  brav'd  the  Shrovetide  billet, 
Had  juft  return'd  in  wounds  and  pain, 
Triumphant  from  the  barbarous  train.— 
By  riv'lets  brink,  with  trees  o'ergrown, 
He  heard  his  fellow  fufferer's  moan ; 
And  greatly  fcorning  wounds  and  fmart, 
Gave  him  three  cheers  with  all  his  'keart. 

"  Rife,  neighbour,  from  that  penfive  attitude, 
«  Brave  witnefs  of  vile  man's  ingratitude ; 


4  And  let  us  both  with  fpur  and  horn, 

'  The  cruel  reafoning  monfter  fcorn.— 

'  Methinks  at  every  daWn  of  day, 

'  When  firft  I  chant  my  blithfome  lay, 

'  Methinks  I  hear  from  out  the  flcy, 

'•'  All  will  be  better  by  and  by ; 

;<  When  bloody,  bafe,  degenerate  man, 

"  Who  deviates  from  his  Maker's  plan  ; 

•'  \\^io  nature  and  her  works  abufes, 

"  And  thus  his  fellow  fervants  ufes, 

"  Shall  greatly,  and  yet  juitly  want, 

"  The  mercy  he  refus'd  to  grant ; 

"  And  (while  his  heart  his  confciehce  purges) 

"  Shall  wiih  to  be  the  brute  he  fcourges." 

FABLE  XIV. 

THE  SNAKE,    THE  GOOSE,  AND  NIGHTINGALE. 

Humbly  addrejjcd  to  the  Hijfers  and  Catcallen  attending 
kotb  Houfes. 

WHZN  rul'd  by  truth  and  nature's  ways, 

When  juft  to  blame,  yet  fix'd  to  praife, 

As  votary  of  the  Delphic  god, 

I  reverence  the  critic's  rod ; 

But  when  inflom'd  with  fpite  alone, 

I  hold  all  critics  but  as  one ; 

For  though  they  clafs  themfelves  with  art, 

And  each  man  takes  a  different  part ; 

Yet  whatfoe'er  they  praife  and  blame ; 

They  in  their  motives  are  the  fame. 
Forth  as  fhe  waddled  in  the  brake, 

A  grey  goofe  ftumbled  on  a  fnake, 

And  took  th*  occafion  to  abufe  her, 

And  of  rank  plagiarifm  accufe  her. 

"  'Twas  I,"  quoth  Ihe,  "  in  every  vale, 

"  Firft  hifs'd  the  noify  nightingale ; 

**  And  boldly  cavill'd  at  each  note, 

"  That  twitter'd  in  the  woodlark's  throat : 

"  I  who  fublime  and  more  than  mortal, 

"  Muft  ftoop  to  enter  at  the  portal, 

"  Have  ever  been  the  the  firft  to  fhow 

"  My  hate  to  every  thing  that's  low, 

"  While  thou  mean  mimic  of  my  manner, 

"  (Without  enlifting  to  my  banner) 

"  Darft,  in  thy  grov'Uing  fituation, 
"  To  counterfeit  my  fibilation." 

The  fnake  enrag'd  reply  "d,  "  Know,  Madam, 
"  I  date  my  charter  down  from  Adam ; 
"  Nor  can  I,  fmce  I  bear  the  bell, 
"  E'er  imitate  where  I  excel. 
"  Had  any  other  creature  dar'd 
"  Once  to  aver  what  you've  averr'd, 
"  I  might  have  been  more  fierce  ant!  fervent, 
"  But  ydu're  a  goofe, — and  fo  your  fervant." 
"  Truce  with  your  folly  and  your  pride," 
The  warbling  Philomela  cry'd  ; 
"  Since  no  more  animals  we  find 
"  In  nature,  of  the  hiffing  kind, 
«  You  fhould  be  friends  with  one  another, 
"  Nay,  kind  as  brother  is  to  brother. 
"  For  know,  thou  pattern  of  abufe, 
"  Thou  fnake  are  out  a  crawling  goofe ; 
•*  And  thpu  dull  dabb'lcr  in  each  lake, 
"  Art  nothing  but  a  feather 'd  iiuike." 

FABLE  XV. 

MRS.   ABIGAIL    AND    THE    DUMB    WA1TJCR. 

WITH  frowning  brew  and  afpcct  lovv'ring, 
A*  Abigail  oae  day  was  fcow'ring 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


From  chair  to  chair  (he  paft  along, 

Without  foliloquy  or  fong ; 

Content  in  humdrum  mood  t'  adjufl 

Her  matters  to  difperfe  the  dufl— 

Thus  ploded  on  the  fullen  fair, 

Till  a  dumb  waiter  claim'd  her  care ; 

She  then  in  rage,  with  fhrill  falute, 

Befpoke  the  inoffenfive  mute : — 

"  Thou  flupid  tool  of  vapourifh  afies, 

"  With  thy  brown  (helves  for  pots  and  glafles; 

"  Thou  foreign  whirligig,  for  whom 

"  Us  honeft  folks  mud  quit  the  room ; 

"  And,  like  young  mifles  at  a  chrift'ning, 

*'  Are  forc'd  to  be  content  with  lift'ning ; 

*'  Though  thou'rt  a  fav'rite  of  my  matter's, 

"  I'll  fet  thee  gadding  on  thy  caftorj." 

This  faid— with  many  a  rough  attack, 

She  fcrub'd  him  till  fhe  made  him  crack ; 

Infulted  flronger  ftill  and  flronger, 

The  poor  dumb  thing  could  hold  no  longer.— 

"  Thou  drab,  born  mops  and  brooms  to  dandle, 

"  Thou  haberdafher  of  finall  fcandal, 

"  Factor  of  family  abufe, 

"  Retailer  of  domeftic  news ; 

•*  My  lord,  as  foon  as  I  appear, 

"  Confines  thee  in  thy  proper  i'phere ; 

"  Or  clfe,  at  ev'ry  place  of  call, 

"  The  chandler's  mop,  or  cobler's  ftall, 

•*  Or  ale-houfe,  where  ^for  petty  tales, 

"  Gin,  beer,  and  ale,  are  conflant  vails) 

«'  Each  word  at  table  that  was  fpoke 

"  Would  foon  become  the  public  joke, 

"  And  cheerful  innocent  converfe 

•*  To  fcandal  warp'd — or  fomething  worfe.— 

"  Whene'er  my  mailer  I  attend, 

"  Freely  his  mind  he  can  unbend ; 

"  But  when  fuch  praters  fill  my  place, 

"  Then  nothing  fhould  be  faid— but  grace." 

FABLE  XVI. 

THE  BAG-WIG  AND  THE  TOBACCO-PIPE. 

A  BAG-WIG  of  a  jauntee  air, 
Trick'd  up  with  all  a  barber's  care, 
Loaded  with  powder  aud  perfume, 
Hung  in  a  fpendthrift's  drefling-room  : 
Olofe  by  its  fide,  by  chance  convey'd, 
A  black  tobacco-pipe  was  laid  ; 
•And  with  its  vapours  far  and  near, 
Outftunk  the  effcnce  of  Monfieur ; 
At  which  its  rage,  the  thing  of  hair, 
Thus  bridling  up,  began  declare. 

"  Bak'd  dirt  *  that  with, intrufion  rude 
"  Break'ft  in  upon  my  folitude, 
"  And  whofe  ofFenfive  breath  defiles 
"  The  air  for  forty  thoufand  miles— 
"  A  vaunt— pollution's  in  thy  touch— 
"  O  barb'rous  Englifh  !  horrid  Dutch  ! 
"  I  cannot  bear  it— Here,  Sue,  Nan, 
"  Go  call  the  maid  to  call  the  man, 
"  And  bid  him  come  without  delay 
"  To  take  this  odious  pipe  away. 
«  Hideous !  fure  fome  one  fmok'd  thee,  friend, 
*'  Reverfely,  at  his  t'other  end. 
"  Oh  !  what  mix'd  odours !  what  a  throng 
"  Of  fait  and  four,  of  flale  and  ftrong  ! 
"  Amoft  unnatural  combination, 
"  Enough  to  mar  all  perfpiration-r 


"  Mondrous !  again— 'twould  vex  a  faint! 
"  Sufan,  the  drops— or  elfe  I  faint !" 
The  pipe  (for  'twas  a  pipe  of  foul) 
Raifing  himfelf  upon  his  bole, 
In  fmoke,  like  oracle  of  old, 
Did  thus  his  fentirrients  unfold  : 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Goodman  Swagger, 
"  Thou  flaunting  French,  fantadic  bragger  ? 
"  Whofe  whole  fine  fpeech  is  (with  a  pox) 
"  Ridiculous  and  heterodox.. 
"  'Twas  better  for  the  Englifh  nation 
"  Before  fuch  fcoundrels  came  in  fafhion, 
"  When  none  fought  hair  in  realms  unknown, 
"  But  every  blockhead  bore  his  own. 
"  Know,  puppy,  I'm  an  Englifh  pipe, 
"  Deem'd  worthy  of  each  Briton's  gripe,- 
"  Who,  with  my  cloud-compelling  aid 
"  Help  our  plantations  and  our  trade, 
"  And  am,  wheirfober  and  when  mellow, 

An  upright,  downright,  honeft  fellow. 

Though  fools  like  you  may  think  me  rough-,' 
"  And  fcorn  me,  'caufe  I  am  in  bafF, 

Yet  your  contempt  I  glad  receive, 
<«  'Tis  all  the  fame  that  you  can  give : 

None  finery  or  fopp'ry  prize, 

But  they  who've  fomething  to  difguife ; 
tc  For  fimple  nature  hates  abufe, 
S  And  plainnefs  is  the  drefs  of  ufe." 

FABLE  XVII. 

CARE    AND    GENEROSITY* 

OLD  Care  with  Indudry  and  Art 
At  length  fo  well  had  play'd  his  part, 
He  heap'd  up  fuch  an  ample  dore, 
That  Av'rice  could  not  figh  for  more : 
Ten  thoufand  flocks  his  fhepherd  told, 
His  coffers  overflow'd  with  gold  ; 
The  land  all  round  him  was  his  own, 
With  corn  his  crowded  granaries  groarr. 
In  fhort,  fo  vad  his  charge  and  gain, 
That  to  poffefs  them  was  a  pain  : 
With  happinefs  opprefs'd  he  lies, 
And  much  too  prudent  to  be  wife. 
Near  him  there  liv'd  a  beauteous  maid, 
With  all  the  charms  of  youth  array'd ; 
Good,  amiable,  fincere,  and  free ; 
Her  name  was  Generofity. 
'Twas  hers  the  largefe  to  bedow 
On  rich  and  poor,  on  friend  and  foe. 
Her  doors  to  all  were  open'd  wide, 
The  pilgrim  there  might  fafe  abide : 
For  th'  hungry  and  the  thirdy  crew, 
The  bread  (he  broke,  the  drink  (he  drew; 
There  Sicknefs  laid  her  aching  head, 
And  there  Didrefs  could  find  a  bed. 
Each  hour,  with  an  all-bounteous  hand, 
Diffus'd  (he  bk  flings  round  the  land  : 
tier  gifts  and  glory  laded  long, 
And  numerous  was  th'  accepting  throng. 
At  length  pale  Penury  feiz'd  the  dame, 
And  Fortune  fled,  and  Ruin  came; 
She  found  her  riches  at  an  end, 
And  that  (he  had  not  -made  one  friend. 
All  curs'd  her  for  not  giving  more, 
Nor  thought  on  what  (he'd  done  before ; 
She  wept,  (he  rav'd,  (he  tore  her  hair, 
When,  i«  J.  to  cemlgrt  her  came  Care  y 


O    E 


And  cry'd,  my  dear,  if  you  will  join 
Your  hand  in  nuptial  bonds  with  mine, 
All  will  be  well—you  (hall  have  (tore, 
And  I  be  plagu'd  with  wealth  no  more. 
Though  I  reftrain  your  bounteous  heart, 
You  ftill  fliall  act  the  generous  part. 
The  bridal  came — great  was  the  feaft, 
And  good  the  pudding  and  the  prieft. 
The  bride  in  nine  moons  brought  him  forth 
A  little  maid  of  matchlefs  worth  : 
Her  face  was  mix'd  of  care  and  glee ; 
They  chriften'd  her  Economy  ; 
And  ftyl'd  her  fair  difcretion's  queen, 
The  miftrefs  of  the  golden  mean. 
Now  generofity  confin'd, 
Perfectly  eafy  in  her  mind, 
Still  loves  to  give,  yet  knows  to  fpare, 
Nor  wilhes  to  be  free  from  care. 

FABLE  XVIII. 


IN  every  age,  and  each  profefiion, 

Men  err  the  mod  by  prepoffeffion  ; 

But  when  the  thing  is  clearly  fliown, 

And  fairly  ftated,  fully  known, 

We  foon  applaud  what  we  deride, 

And  penitence  fucceeds  to  pride.— 

A  certain  baron  on  a  day, 

Having  a  mind  to  fbow  away, 

Invited  all  the  wits  ami  wags, 

Foote,  Maffey,  Shuter,  Yates,  and  Skegg«, 

And  built  a  large  commodious  ftage, 

For  the  choice  fpirits  of  the  age ; 

But  above  all,  among  the  reft, 

There  came  a  genius,  who  profefs'd 

To  have  a  curious  trick  in  uore, 

Which  never  was  perform'd  before. 

Through  all  the  town  this  foon  got  air,    i 

And  the  whole  houfe  was  like  a  fair  j 

But  foon  his  entry  as  he  made, 

Without  a  prompter  or  parade, 

'Twas  all  expectance,  all  fufpenfe, 

And  filence  gagg'd  the  audience. 

He  hid  his  head  behind  his  wig, 

And  with  fuch  truth  took  oft"  a  pig, 

All  fwore  'twas  ferioui,  and  no  joke  ; 

For  doubtlefs  underneath  his  cloak 

He  had  conceal'd  fome  grunting  elf, 

Or  was  a  real  hog  himfelf. 

A  fearch  was  made,  no  pig  was  found— 

With  thund'ring  claps  the  feats  refound, 

And  pit,  and  box,  and  galleries  roar, 

With — O  rare  1  bravo  !  and  encore  1 

Old  Roger  Groufe,  a  country  clown. 

Who  yet  knew  fomething  of  the  town, 

Beheld  the  mimic  and  his  whim, 

And  on  the  morrow  challeng'd  him,  . 

Declaring  to  each  beau  and  b miter, 

That  he'd  out-grunt  th'  egregious  grunter. 

The  morrow  came— the  crowd  was  greater 

But  prejudice  "and  rank  ill-natnqe 

Ufurp'd  the  minds  of  men  and  >'enches. 

Who  came  to  hifs,  and  break  the  benches. 

The  mimic  took  his  ufual  ftation, 

And  fqueak'd  with  general  approbation. 

Again,  encore !  encore  !  they  cry — 

'Iwas  yuiie  the  thing— 'twas  very  high: 


M    S.  ,„ 

Old  Groufe  conceal'd,  amidft  the  racket, 

A  real  pig  beneath  his  jacket — 

Then  forth  he  came — and  with  his  nail 

He  pinch'd  the  urchin  by  the  tail. 

The  tortur'd  pig  from  out  his  throat 

Produc'd  the  genuine  nat'ral  note. 

All  bellow'd  out — 'twas  very  fad  ' 

Sure  never  fluff  was  half  fo  bad  ! 

That  like  a  pig  !~each  cry'd  in  feoff, 

Pfliaw!  nonfenfe!  blockhead!  off!  eff!  off! 

The  mimic  was  extoll'd,  and  Groufe 

Was  hifs'd,  and  catcall'd  from  the  houfe.— 

"  Soft  ye,  a  word  before  I  go," 

Quoth  honeft  Hodge — and  Hooping  low 

Produc'd  the  pig,  and  thus  aloud 

Befpoke  the  ftupid,  partial  crowd  : 

"  Behold,  and  learn  from  this  poor  creature, 

"  How  much  you  critics  know  of  nature." 


BALLADS. 
BALLAD  I. 

SWEET  WILLIAM. 

BY  a  prattling  ftream,  on  a  midfummer's  eve, 
Where  the  woodbine  and  jeff'mine  their  boughs 

interweave, 

Fair  Flora,  I  cry'd,  to  my  harbour  repair, 
For  I  rnuft  have  a  chaplet  for  Sweet  William's  hair. 

She  brought  me  the  vi'let  that  grows  on  the  KjHt 
The  vale-dwelling  lily,  and  gilded  jonquill : 
But  fuch  languid  odours  how  could  I  approve, 
Juft  warm  from  the  lips  of  the  lad  that  I  lote  ? 
She  brought  me,  his  faith  and  his  truth  to  difplay, 
The  undying-  myrtle,  and  evergreen  bay  :• 
But  why  thefe  to  me,  who've  bis  conftancy  known? 
And  Billy  has  laurels  enough  of  his  own. 
The  next  was  a  gift  that  I  could  not  contemn, 
For  me  brought  me  two  rofes  that  grew  on  a  ftem : 
Of  the  dear  nuptial  tie  they  flood  emblems  confeii, 
So  I  kifs'd  'em,  and  prefs'd  'em  quite  clofe  to  my 

breaft. 
She  brought  me  a  fun-flow'r — this,  fair  one's 

your  due ; 

For  it  once  was  a  maiden,  and  love-fick  like  you  : 
Oh  !  give  it  me  quick,  to  my  (hepherd  I'll  run, 
As  true  to  his  flame  as  this  flow'r  to  the  fua. 

BALLAD  II. 

THE  LASS  WITH  THE  GOLDEK  LOCKS. 

No  more  of  my  Harriot,  of  Polly  no  more, 
Nar  all  the  bright  beautiesthat  charm'd  me  before ; 
My  heart  for  a  flave  to  gay  Venus  I've  fold, 
And  barter'd  my  freedom  for  ringlets  of  gold : 
I'll  throw  down  my  pipe,  and  neglect  all  my  flocks, 
And  will  fing  to  my  lafs  with  the  golden  locks. 
Thougho'er  her  white  forehead  the  gilt  treflesflow. 
Like  the  rays  of  the  fun  on  a  hillock  of  fnow ; 
Such  painters  of  old  drew  the  queen  of  the  fair; 
'Tis  the  tafte  of  the  ancients,  'tis  claffical  hair  :    • 
And  though  witlings  may  feoff,  and  though  rail 
lery  mocks, 

Yet  I'll  fing  to  my  lafs  with  the  golden  locks. 
To  live  and  to  love,  to  tronverfe  and  be  free, 
Is  loving,  my  chauner,  and  living  with  thee  ; 


>7*  THE  WORKS 

Away  go  the  hours  in  kifles  and  rhyme, 
Spite  of  all  the  grave  lectures  of  old  father  Time  ; 
A  fig  for  his  dials,  his  watches  and  clocks, 
He's  beft  fpent  with  the  lafs  of  the  golden  locks. 

Than  the  fwan  in  the  brook  (he's  more  dear  to 

my  fight, 

Her  mien  is  more  ftately,  her  bread  is  more  white, 
Her  fweet  lips  are  rubies,  all  rubies  above, 
They  are  fit  for  the  language  or  labour  of  love ; 
At  the  park  in  the  mall,  at  the  play  in  the  box, 
My  lafs  bears  the  bell  with  her  golden  locks. 

Her  beautiful  eyes,  as  they  roll  or  they  flow. 
Shall  be  glad  for  my  joy,  or  (hall  weep  for  my 

woe ;  [foft  pain, 

She  (hall  eafe  my  fond  heart,  and  (hall  footh  my 
While  thoufands  of  rivals  are  fighting  in  vain  ; 
Let  them  rail  at  the  fruit  they  can't  reach,  like 

the  fox, 
While  I  have  the  lafs  with  the  golden  locks. 

V  BALLAD  III. 

ON  MT  WIFE'S  BIRTH-DAY. 

'Tis  Nancy's  birth-day — raife  your  {trains, 
Ye  nymphs  of  the  Parnafiian  plains, 
And  fing  with  more  than  ufual  glee 
To  Nancy,  who  was  born  for  me. 

Teil  the  blithe  graces  as  they  bound 
Luxuriant  in  the  buxom  round  ; 
They're  not  more  elegantly  free, 
Than  Nancy  who  was  born  for  me. 
Tell  royal  Venus,  though  flic  rove, 
The  queen  of  the  immortal  grove  ; 
That  (fie  muft  fliare  her  golden  fee 
"With  Nancy,  who  was  born  for  me. 
Tell  Pallas,  though  th'  Athenian  fchool, 
And  ev'ry  trite  pedandic  fool, 
On  her  to  place  the  palm  agree ; 
'Tis  Nancy,  who  was  born  for  me. 

Tell  fpotlefs  Dian,  though  fiie  range, 
The  regent  of  the  up-land  grange, 
In  chaftity  (he  yields  to  thee, 
O  Nancy,  who  waft  born  for  me. 

Tell  Cupid,  Hymen,  and  tell  Jove, 
With  all  the  pow'rs  of  life  and  love, 
That  I'ddifdain  to  breathe  or  be, 
If  Nancy  was  not  born  for  me. 

BALLAD  IV. 

THE   DECISION. 

MY  Florio,  wildeft  of  his  fex 

(Who  fure  the  verieft  faint  would  vex). 

From  beauty  roves  to  beauty ; 
Yet  though  abroad  the  wanton  roam, 
Whene'er  he  deigns  to  ftay  at  home, 

He  always  minds  his  duty. 

Something  to  ev'ry  charming  (he, 
In  thoughtlefs  prodigality, 

He's  granting  ftill  and  granting, 
To  Phyllis  that,  to  Chloe  this, 
And  every  madam,  every  mifs; 

Yet  I  find  nothing  wanting. 


OF  SMART. 

If  hap'ly  I  his  will  difpleafc, 
Tempeftuous  as  th'  autumnal  feal 

He  foams  and  rages  ever ; 
But  when  he  ceafes  from  his  ire, 
I  cry,  fuch  fpirit  and  fuch  fire, 

Is  furely  wond'rous  clever. 

I  ne'er  want  reafon  to  complain; 
But  fweet  is  pleafure  after  pain, 

And  every  joy  grows  greater. 
Then  truft  me,  damlels,  whilft  I  tell, 
I  mould  not  like  him  half  fo  well, 

If  I  could  make  him  better. 

BALLAD  V. 

THE   TALKATIVE    FAIR. 

FROM  morn  to  night,  from  day  to  day, 
At  all  times,  and  at  every  place. 
You  fcold,  repeat,  and  fing,  and  fay, 
Nor  are  there  hopes  you'U  ever  ceafer 

Forbear,  my  Celia,  oh!  forbear, 
If  your  own  health,  or  ours  you  prize. 
For  all  mankind  that  hear  you,  fwear 
Your  tongue's  more  killing  than  your  eyes. 

Your  tongue's  a  traitor  to  your  face, 
Your  fame's  by  your  own  noife  obfcur'd, 
All  are  diftradted  while  they  gaze  ; 
gut  if  they  liften,  they  are  cur'd. 

Your  filence  would  acquire  more  praife. 
Than  all  you  fay,  or  all  I  write  ; 
One  look  ten  thoufand  charms  difplays ; 
Then  hum — and  be  an  angel  quite. 

BALLAD  VI. 

THE    SILENT  FAIR. 

FROM  all  her  fair  loquacious  kind, 
So  different  -is  my  Rofalind, 
That  not  one  accent  can  I  gain 
To  crown  my  hopes,  or  footh  my  pain. 

Ye  lovers,  who  can  conftrue  fighs, 
And  are  the  interpreters  of  eyes, 
To  language  all  her  looks  tranflate, 
And  in  her  geftures  read  my  fate. 

And  if  in  them  you  chance  to  find 
Aught  that  is  gentle,  aught  that's  kind, 
Adieu  mean  hopes  of  being  great, 
And  all  the  littlenefs  of  ftate. 

All  thoughts  of  grandeur  I  defpife, 
Which  from  dependence  take  their  rife ; 
To  ferve  her  (hall  be  my  employ, 
And  love-fweet  agony  my  joy. 

BALLAD  Vn. 

THE   FORCE   OF   INNOCENCE. 

'    To  Mifs  c  *****. 

THE  blooming  damfel,  whofe  defence 
Is  adamantine  innocence, 
Requires  no  guardian  to  attend 
Her  fteps,  fpr  modefty's  her  friend : 
Though  her~fair  arms  are  weak  to  wield 
The  glitt'rsig /fpear,  and  mafly  fliield  j 


POEM 


377 


Vet  fafe  from  force  and  fraud  combin'd, 
She  is  an  Amazon  in  mind. 

With  this  artillery  {he  goes, 

Not  only  'mongft  the  hai  mlefs  beaux ! 

But  e'en  unhurt  and  undifmay'd, 

Views  the  long  fword  and  fierce  cockade,  • 

Though  all  a  fyrcn  as  (he  talks, 

And  all  a  goddefs  a*  fhe  walks, 

Yet  decency  each  action  guides, 

And  wifdom  o'er  her  tongue  prefides. 

Place  her  in  Ruffia's  fhowery  plains, 
Where  a  perpetual  winter  reigns, 
The  elements'  may  rave  and  range, 
Yet  her  fix'd  mind  will  never  change. 
Place  her,  ambition,  in  thy  tow'rs, 
'Mongft  the  more  dang'rous  golden  fhow'rs, 
Z'en  there  flic'd  fpurn  the  venal  tribe, 
And  fold  her  arms  againft  the  bribe. 

Leave  her,  defencelefs  and  alone, 
•  A  pris'ner  in  the  torrid  zone, 
The  funfhine  there  might  vainly  vie 
With  the  bright  luflre  of  her  eye  ; 
But  Phcebus'  felf,  with  all  his  fire, 
Could  ne'er  one  unchufte  thought  infpire; 
But  virtue's  path  fhe'd  frill  purfue  ; 
And  dill,  my  fair,  would  copy  you. 

BALLAD  VIII. 

THE    DISTRESSED    DAMSEL. 

OF  all  my  experience  how  vafl  the  amount, 
Scarce  fifteen  long  winters  I  fairly  can  count! 
Was  ever  a  damfel  fo  fadly  betray'd, 
To  live  to  thefe  years  and  yet  dill  be  a  maid  ? 

Ye  heroes  triumphant  by  land  and  by  fea, 
Sworn  vot'ries  to  love,  but  unmindful  of  me ; 
You  can  dorm  a  ftrong  fort,  or  can  form  a  block 
ade, 
Yet  ye  ftand  by  like  daftards,  and  fee  me  a  maid. 

Ye  lawyers  fo  jud,  who  with  flippcry  tongue, 
Can  do  what  you  pleafe,  or  with  right,  or  with 

wreng,  . 

Can  it  be  or  by  law  or  by  equity  faid, 
That  a  buxom  young  girl  ought  to  die  an  old  maid. 

Ye  learned  phyficians,  whofe  excellent  (kill 
Can  fave  or  demolifh,  can  cure,  or  can  kill. 
To  a  poor  forlorn  damfel  contribute' your  aid, 
Who  is  fick — very  fick— of  remaining  u  maid. 

Ye  fops,  I  invoke,  not  lift  to  my  fong, 
Who  anfwer  no  end— and  to  no  fcx  belong  ; 
Ye  echoes  of  echoes,  and  fhadows  of  (hade— 
For  if  1  had  you— I  might  dill  be.  a  maid. 

BALLAD  IX. 

THE    FAIR    RECLUSE. 

YK  ancient  patriarchs  of  the  wood. 
That  veil  around  thefe  awful  glooms, 

Who  many  a  century  have  ftcpd 
In  verdant  age  that  ever  blooms. 

Ye  Gothic  tow'rs,  by  vapours  tlcnfe, 
Obfcur'd  into  fcvcrer  itate, 
Vox,.   XI. 


In  padoral  magnificence 

At  once  fo  fimple  and  fo  great. 

Why  all  your  jealous  (hades  on  me, 

Ye  hoary  elders,  do  ye  fpread  ? 
Fair  innocence  (hould  (rill  be  free, 

Nought  (hould  be  chain'd  but  what  we  dread. 

Say,  mud  thefe  tears  for  ever  flow  ? 

Can,  I  from  patience  learn  content, 
While  fblitude  dill  nurfes  woe, 

And  leaves  me  leifure  to  lament. 

My  guardian,  fee !— who  wards  off  peace, 

Whofe  cruelty  is  his  employ, 
Who  bids  the  tongue  of  tranfport  ceafe, 

And  (tops  each  avenue  to  joy. 

Freedom  of  air  alone  is  giv'n, 

To  aggravate,  not  footh  my  grief, 
To  view  th'  immenfely  diflant  hcav'n, 

My  neared  profpect  of  rclkf. 

BALLAD  X. 

TO  MISS  ****ONE  OF  THE  CHICHESTER  GRACES. 
Written  in  Goodwood  Gardens ,  Seftembff  1750* 

'  Yt  hills  that  overlook  the  plains, 
•  .Where  wealth  and  Gothic  greatnefs  reigns ; 
Where  nature's  hand  by  art  is  check'd, 
And  tafte  herfelf  is  architect ; 
Ye  fallows  gray,  ye  forefts  brown, 
And  feas  that  the  vaft  profpect  crown, 
Ye  fright  the  foul  with  fancy's  ftore, 
Nor  can  flic  one  idea  more  !" 

I  faid— when  deareft  of  her  kind 

(Her  form  the  picture  of  her  mind) 

Chlorisappcar'd— The  landflcip  flew  1 

All  nature  vanifh'd  from  my  view  ! 

She  fcem'd  all  nature  to  comprife, 

Her  lips!  her  beauteous  breads!  her  eye»! 

That  rous'd,  and  yet  abafli'd  dedre, 

With  liquid,  languid,  living  fire  ! 

But  then — her  voice — how  fram'd  t'  endear  i 

The  mufic  of  the  gods  to  Jjear  !" 

Wit  that  fo  pierc'd  without  offence, 

So  brac'dby  the  drong  nerves  of  fenfe! 

Pallas  with  Venus  play'd  her  part, 

To  rob  me  of  an  honed  heart ; 

Prudence  and  paflion  jointly  drove, 

And  rcafon  was  th'  ally  of  lo»e. 

Ah  me !  thou  fwect  delicious  maid, 
From  whence  (hall  I  folicit  aid  ! 
Hope  and  defpair  alike  deftroy, 
One  kills  with  grief,  and  one  with  joy. 
Celedial  Chloris !  Nymph  divine ! 
To  fave  me  the  dear  taflc  be  thine. 
Though  conqued  be  the  woman's  care, 
The  angel's  glory  is  to  fpare. 

BALLAD  XI. 

J.OVELT    HARRIOT. 

A  Crambo  Sallatt. 

GRF/VT  Phoebus' in  his  vaft  career, 
Who  forms  the  felf-fucceeding  year, 
Thron'd  in  hi?  amber  chariot  : 
M 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


Sees  not  an  object  half  fo  bright, 
Nor  gives  fuch  joy,  fuch  life,  fuch  light, 
As  dear  delicious  Harriot. 

Pedants  of  dull  phlegmatic  turns, 

Whofe  pulfe  not  beats,  whole  blood  n«ft  burns, 

Read  Malebranche,  Boyle,  and  Marriot ; 
I  fcorn  their  philolbphic  ftrife, 
And  ftudy  nature  from  the  life, 

(Where  moft  fhe  fhines)  in  Harriot. 

When  fiie  admits  another  wooer, 

1  rave  like  Shakfpeare's  jealous  Moor, 

And  am  as  raging  Barry  hot. 
True,  virtuous,  lovely,  was  his  dove, 
But  »irtue,  beauty,  truth,  and  love, 

Are  other  names  for  Harriot. 

Ye  factious  members  who  oppofe, 
And  tire  both  houfes  with  your  profe, 

Though  never  can  ye  carry  ought ; 
You  might  command  the  nation's  fenfc, 
And  without  bribery  convince, 

Had  ye  the  voice  of  Harriot. 
You  of, the  mufic  commonweal, 
"V^ho  borrow,  beg,  compofe,  or  fleal, 

Cantata',  air,  er  ariet ; 
You'd  burn  your  cumb'rous  works  in  fcore, 
And  ling,  compofe,  and  play  no  more, 

If  once  you  heard  my  Harriot. 

Were  there  a  wretch  who  dar'd  eflay,. 
Such  wond'rous  fweetnels  to  betray, 

I'd  call  him  an  Ifcariot ; 
But  here  e'en  fatire  can't  annoy, 
So  ftrictly  chafte,  but  kindly  coy,. 

Is  fair  angelic  Harriot. 
\Vhile  fultans,  emperors,  and  kings,. 
(Mean  appetite  of,  earthly  things) 

In  all  the  waftc  of  war  riot : 
Move's  fofter  duel  be  my  aim, 
Praife,  honour,  glory,  conqiieft,  fame, 

Are  center 'd  all  in  Harriot. 
I  fwear  by  Hymen  and  the  pow'rs 
*That  haunt  love's  ever  blufning  bow'rt,1 

So  fweet  a  nymph  to  marry  ought  7 
Then  may  1  hug  her  filken  yoke, 
And  give  the  la£r».  the  final  ftrok'e, 

T"  acconiplifn  lovely  Harriot. 

BALLAD  XIL 

TO  JENNY  GRAY. 

BRING,  Phoebus,  from  Parnafiian  bow'rs^ 
A  chaplet  of  poetic  flow'rs, 

That  far  outbloom  the  May  ;' 
Bring  verfe  fo  fmooth,  and  thoughts  fo  free, 
And  all  the  mufes  heraldry, 

To  blazon  Jenny  Gray. 

Obferve  yon  almond's  rich  perfsme, 
Prefenting  fpring  with  early  bloom, 

In  ruddy  tints  how  gay! 
Thus,  foremoft  of  the  blufhing  fair, 
"With  fuch  a  blithefome  buxom  air, 

Blooms  lovely  Jenny  Gray. 
The  merry,  chirping,  plumy  throng, 
The  bufhes  and  the  twigs  among 

That  pipe  the  fylvan  lay, 


All  hufh'd  at  her  delightful 
In  filent  ecftafy  rejoice, 

And  ftudy  Jenny  Gray. 

Ye  balmy  odour-breathing  gales, 

That  lightly  fweep  the  green  rob'd  vales^ 

And  in  each  rofe-bufh  play ; 
I  know  you  all,  you're  arrant  cheats, 
And  fleal  your  more  than  natural  fwccts* 

From  lovely  Jenny  Gray. 

Pomona  and  that  goddefs  bright, 
The  florift's  and  the  maids  delight, 

In  vain  their  charms  difplay ; 
The  lufcious  nectarine,  juicy  peach. 
In  richnefs,  nor  in  fweetnefs  ri;ach 

The  iips  of  Jenny  Gray. 

To  the  fweet  knot  of  graces  three, 
Th'  immortal  band  of  bards  agree, 

A  tuneful  tax  to  pay ; 
There  yet  remains  a  matchlefs  worth, 
There  yet  remains  a  lovely  fourth, 

And  fhe  is  Jenny  Gray. 

BALLAD  XIII. 

TO  MISS  KITTV  BENNET  AN»  HER   CA^  C80f» 

FULL  many  a  heart  that  now  is  free. 
May  fhortly,  fair  one,  beat  for  thee, 

And  court  thy  pleafmg  chain ; 
Then  prudent  hear  a  friend's  advice, 
And  learn  to  guard,  by  conduct  nice, 

The  conqucfts  you  fhall  gain. 

When  Tabby  Tom  your  Crop  purfues, 
How  many  a  bite  and  many  a  bruifc 

Ths  amorous  fwain  endures  ? 
E'er  yet  one  favourite  glance  he  catch, 
What  frequent  fqualls,  how  many  a  fcratch 

His  tendernefs  procures  ? 

Though  this,  'tis  own'd,  be  fomewhat  rude} 
And  pufs  by  nature  be  a  prude, 

Yet  hence  you  may  improve ; 
By  decent  pride,  and  dipt  of  feoff, 
Keep  caterwauling  coxcombs  off, 

And  ward  th*  attacks  of  love. 

Your  Crop  a  moufm  wh'en  you  fee, 
She  teaches  you  economy, 

Which  inakes  the  pot  to  boil : 
And  when  fhe  plays  with  what  fhe  gains, 
She  fhows  you  pleafure  fprings  from  pains, 

And  mirth's  the  fruit  of  toil. 

BALLAD  XIV. 

THE  PRETTY  SAX-KEEPER  OF  THE  MITRE. 
Written  at  College,  1741. 

"  RELAX,  fweet  girl,  your  wearied  mind, 

"  And  to  hear  the  poet  talk, 
"  Gentleft  creature  of  your  kind, 

"  Lay  afide  your  fponge  and  chalk ; 
"  Ceafe,  ceafe  the.  bar-bell,  nor  refufe 
"  To  hear  the  jingle  of  the  mufe. 

"  Hear  your  numerous  vot'ries  prayer*, 
"  Come,  O  come,  and  bring  with  thes 


P    O    EM    S, 

fl  biddy  wfiimfies,  wanton  a!rs, 
"  And  all  love's  foft  artillery ; 
*'  Smiles  and  throbs,  and  frowns,  and  tears, 
"  With  all  the  little  hopes  and  fears." 


•  She  heard — fhe  came—and,  e'er  fhc  fpoke, 

Not  unravifh'd  you  aiight  fee 
Her  wanton  eyes  that  wink'd  the  joke, 
'  Ere  her  tongue  could  fet  it, free.  . 
While  a  forc'd  blufh  her  cheeks  enflam'd, 
And  feein'd  to  fay  fhe  was  afham'd. 

No  handkerchief  her  bofom  hid, 

No  tippet  from  our  fight  debars 
Her  heaving  breads,  with  moles  o'erfpread, 

Mark'd,  little  heniifpheres,  with  ftars  ; 
While  on  them  all  our  eyes  we  move, 
Our  eyes  that  meant  immoderate  love. 

In  every  gefture,  every  air, 

Th'  imperfedt  lifp,  the  languid  eye, 

In  every  motion  of  the  fair, 
We  awkward  imitators  vie, 

And,  forming  our  own  from  her  face, 

Strive  to  look  pretty  as  we  gaze. 

If  e'er  fhe  fneer'd,  the  mimic  crowd 

Sneer'd  too,  and  all  their  pipes  laid  down ; 

If  flie  hut  ftoop'd,  we  lowly  bow'd,    - 
And  fullen,  if  fhe  'gan  to  frown, 

In  folemn  filence  fat  profound 

But  did  Hie  laugh  T — the  laugh  went  round, 

tier  fnuff-box  if  the  nymph  pull'd  out, 

Each  Johnian  in  refponfive  airs 
Fed  with  the  tickling  duft  hisfnout, 

With  all  the  politefle  of  bearsi 
Bropt  (he  her  fan  beneath  her  hoop; 
Ev'n  ftake-fluck  Clarians  ftrove  to  ftoop. 

The  fons  of  culinary  Kays 

Smoking  from  the  eternal  treat, 
Loft  in  ecitatic  tranfport  gaze, 
>    As  though  the  fair  was  good  to  eat ; 
Ev'n  gloomieft  kings-men,  pleas'd  a  while,' 
"  Grin  horribly  a  ghaftly  fmile." 

But  hark,  fhe.  cries,  "  my  mamma  calls," 
And  ftra'ight  (he's  vanifh'd  from  our  fight; 

'Twas  then'we  faw  the  empty  bowls,  ,. 
"I" was  thep  we.firflperceiv'd  it  night; 

While  all,  fad  fynod,  filent  moan, 

Both  that  fhe  went— and  went  alone. 

BALLAD  XV. 

THE  WIDOW'S  RESOJ.VT1ON. 

A  Cantata, 
RECITATIVE. 

SYLVIA,  the  moft  contented  of  her  kind, 
Remaih'd  in  joylefs  widowhood  refign'd  : 
In  vain  to  gain  her  every  fljepherd  ftrove,  .      , 
Each  paffion  ebb'd,  but  grief,  which  drowned  love. 

AIR. 

Away,  fhe  cry'd,  ye  fw,ains,  he  mute, 
Nor  with  your  odious  frujtlefs  fuit 
..My  loyal  thoughts  controul } 
My  grief  on  refolution's  rock     ... 
I*  built,  nor  can  temptation  (hock 
The  purpofe  of  my  foul. 


Though  blithe  contenf,  with  jocund  air, 
May  balance  comfort  agaiuft  tare, 

And  make  me  life  fuftain  ; 
Yet  ev'ry  joy  has  wing'd.its  flight, 
Except  that  penfive  dear  delight 

That  takes  its  rife  from  pain. 

PKC1TATIVE. 

She  faid :r-A  youth  approach'd,  of  manly  grace, 
•A  fon  of  Mars,  and  of  th'  Hibernian  race :--  ' 
In  flaw 'ry  rhetoric  he  no  time  cmploy'd, 
He  came — he  woo'd — he  wedded,  anjl  cnjoy'd. 

AIR. 

Dido  thus  of  old  protefted 

Ne'er  to  know  a  fecond  flame ; 
But,  alas !  fhe  fo.und  (he  jetted, 

When  the  ftately  Trojan  came. 

Nature  a  difguife  may  borrow, 

Yet  this  maxim  true  will  prove, 

Spite  of  pride,  and  fpite  of  forrow, 
She  that  has  a  heart  muft  love. 

What  on  earth  is  fo  enchanting 

As  beauty  \yeeping  on  her  weeds ! 

Through  flowing  eyes,  on  bofom  panting^ 
What  a  rapturous  ray  proceeds  ? 

Since  from  death  there's  no  returning, 
When  th'  old  lover  bids  adieu,    • 

All  the  pomp  and  furce  of  mourning 
Are  but  fignals  for  a  new.  • 

EPISTLE  TO  MRS.  TYLERj 

IT  ever  was  allow'd,  dear  madam, 

Ev'n  from  the  days  of  father  Adam, 

Of  all  perfection  flefh  is  heir  to, 

Fairp  atience  is  the  gentleft  virtue  : 

This  is  a  truth  our  grandames  teach, 

Our  poets  fing,  and  parfons  preach ; 

Yet  after  all,  dear  Moll,  the  fad  is 

We  feldom  put  it  into  practice; 

I'll  warrant  (if  one  knew  the  truth) . 

You've  call'a  me  many  an  idle  youth, 

And  ftyllfl  me  rude  ungrateful  bear, 

Enough  to  make  a  parfon  fwear. 
1  fhall  not  make  a  long  oration 
In  older  for  my  vindication,        .    / 
For  what  the  plague  can  I  fay  more 
Than  lazy  dogs  have  done  before ; 
Such  fluff  is  naught  but  mere  tautology^ 
And  fo  take  thatvfor  my  apology. 
Firft  then  for  cullards,  my  dear  Mary, 
The  produce  of  your  dainty  dairy. 
For  ftew'd,  for  bak'd,  for  bojl'd,  for  roaft, 
And  all  the  teas,  and  all  the  toaft ; 
With  thankful  tongue,  and  bowing  attitude^ 
I  here  prefent  you  with  my  gratitude  i 
Next  for  your  apples,  pears,  and  plumbs, 
Acknowledgment  in  order  comes ; 
For  wine,  for  ale,  for  fowl,  fur  fift— for 
EV'JJ  all  one's  appetite  can  wifh  for : 
But  O  ye  pens,  and  O  ye  pencils, 
And  all  ye  fcribbling  utenfils, 
Say  in  what  words,  and  in  what  metre, 
Shall  unfeign'd  admiration  greet  her,         * 
For  that  rich  banquet  fo  refm'd, 
Her  coflveifition  gave  the  mind; 
Mij 


THE  WORKS   OF   SMART. 

The  /olid  meal  of  fenfe  and  \vorth, 

Set  off  by  the  defert  of  mirth  ; 

Wit's  fruit  and  pleafure's  genial  bowl, 

And  all  the  joyoir.  How  of  foul ; 

For  thefe,  and  every  kind  ingredient, 

That  form'd  your  love — your  moil  obedient 


TO  THE  REV.  MR.  POWELL. 

ON    THE   NON;P£RFORMANCF.    OF  A  PROMISE    HE 
MADE  THE  AUTHOR  OF  A  HARE. 

FRIEND,  with  regard  to  this  fame  hare, 

Am  I  to  hope,  or  to  defpair  ? 

By  punctual  poft  the  letter  came, 

With  P***ll's  hand,  arid  P***irs  name: 

Yet  there  appear'd,  for  love  or  money, 

Nor  hare  nor  leveret,  nor  coney. 

Say,  my  dear  Morgan,  has  my  lord, 

Like  other  great  ones,  kept  his  word  ? 

Or  have  you  been  deceiv'd  by  'fquire  ? 

Or  has  your  poacher  loft  hi*  wire  ? 

Or  in  fome  unpropitious  hole, 

Inflead  of  puis,  trepann'd  a  mole  ? 

Thou  valiant  fon  of  great  Cadwallador, 

Haft  thou  a  hare,  or  haft  thou  fwallow'd  her  ? 

But  now,  methinks,  1  hear  you  fay 
(And  fhake  your  head)  ",Ah,  wcll-a-day  ! 
"  Painful  pre-em'nence  to  be  wife, 
"  We  wits  have  fi;ch  fhorr  memories. 
"  Oh,  that  the  ;icl  was  not  in  force  ! 
<e  A  hotfe  ! — my  kingdom  for  a  horfe  ! 
"  To  love — yet  be  deny'd  the  fport ! 
"  Oh  !  for  a  friend  or  two'ac  court ! 
"  God  knows,  there's  fcarce  a  man  of  quality 
"  In  all  our  peer  lei's  principality — " 

But  hold— ^or  on  his  country  joking, 
To  a  warm  Welchman's  moil  provoking. 
As  for  poor  pufs,  upon  my  honour, 
I  never  fet  my  heart  upon  her. 
But  any  gift  from  friend  to  friend 
Is  pleafing  in  its  aim  and  end. 
I,  like  the  cock,  would  fpurn  a  jewel, 
Sent  by  th'  unkind,  th'  unjuft,  and  cruel. 

Buthoneft  P***ll! Sure  from  him 

A  barley-corn  would  be  a  gem. 
Pleas'd  therefore  had  I  been,  and  proud, 
And  prais'd  thy  generous  heart  aloud, 
If,  '{lead  of  hare  I  but  do  wot  blab  it) 
You'd  fent  me  only  a  Wekh  rabbit. 


E  P  I  G  R  A  M  S. 
EPIGRAM  I. 

THE  iICK  MONKEY. 

.A  i.  AD  Y  fent  lately  for  -one  Doctor  Drag, 

To  come  in  an  iaflazit,  and  clyfler  poor  Pug. — 

As  the  fair  one  commanded,  he  came  at  the  word, 

And  did  the  grand  office  in  tye-wig  and  fword. 

The  affair  being  ended,  fo  fweet  and  fo  nice  ! 

He  held  out  his  hand  with  "  you  know,  ma'am, 

"  rr.y  price." 


«  Your  price,"  fays  the  lady-—"  Why,  Sir,  he'« 

"  your  brother, 
'  And  doctors  mult  never  take  fees  of  each  other.'' 


EPIGRAM  II. 


APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE. 

WHEN  Phoebus  was  am'rous,  and  long'd  to  be 

rude, 

Mifs  Daphne  cry 'd  pifh  !  and  ran  fwift  to  the  wood, 
And  rather  than  do  iuch  a  naughty  affair, 
She  became  a  fine  laurel  to  deck  the  god's  hair. 

The  nymph  vas  be  fure  of  a  cold  conftitution, 
To  be  turn'd  to  a  tree  was  a  flrange  refolution ; 
For  in  this  fhe  refembled  a  true  modern  fpoufe, 
For  fhe  fled  from  his  arms  to  difbinguiih  his  brows. 

EPIGRAM  III.     (From  tie  Greclt}. 

THE   MISER  AND  THE  MOUSE. 

To  a  Moufe  fays  a  Mifer,  "  my  dear  Mr.  Moufe, 
"  Pray  what  may  you  pleale  for  to  want  in  my 

"  houfe  ?" 
Says  the  Moufe,  "  Mr.  Mifer,  pray  keep  yourfelf 

"  quiet, 
"  You  are  fafe  in  your  perfon,  your  purfe,  and 

"  your  diet : 

"  A  lodging  I  want,  which  ev'n  you  may  afford, 
"  But  none  would  come  here  to  beg,  borrow,  or 

"  board." 

EPIGRAM  IV. 

On  a  Woman  -who  was  Singing  Ballads  far  Money 
to  Bury  her  Hit/band^ 

FOR  her  hufband  deceas'd,  Sally  chants  the  fweet 

lay, 

V(  hy,  faith,  this  is  fingular  forrow ; 
But  (I  doubt)  finco  fhe  fnigs  for  a  dead  man  to 
day, 
She'll  cry  for  a  live  one  to-morrow. 

To  the  Right  Honourable 

F.ARL  OF  DARLINGTON, 

ON  HIS  BEING  APPOINTED  PAYMASTER  OF  HIS 

MAJESTY'S  FORCES. 

"  The  royal  hand,  my  lord,  fhall  raife 

"  To  nobler  heights  thy  name  ; 
"  Who  praifes  thee  fhall  meet  with  praife 

"  Ennobled  in  thy  fame. 

Smart's  Ode. 

WHAT  the  prophetic  mufe  foretold  is  true, 
And  royal  jtiftice  gives  to  worth  its  due  ; 
The  Roman  fpirit  now  breathes  forth  again, 
And  virtue's  temple  leads  to  honour's  fane  ; 
But  not  alone  to  thee  this  grant  extends, 
Nor  in  thy  rife  great  Brunfwick's goodnefs  ends: 
Whoe'er  has  known  thy  hofpitable  dome, 
Where  each  glad  gueil  ftill  finds  himfelf  at  home  ; 
Whoe'er  has  feen  the  numerous  poor  that  wait 
To  blefs  thy  bounty  at  th'  expanded  gate  ; 
Whoe'er  has  feen  thee  general  joy  impart, 
And  fmile  away  chagrin  from  every  heart, 


POEMS. 


t$JC 


All  thefe  are  happy — pleafure  reigns  confeil, 
And  thy  profpcrity  makes  thoufands  bleft. 

On  the  Death  of  Majttr  Netoierj,  after   a  lingering 
Itttefs. 

HENCEFORTH  be  every  tender  tear  fupprefl, 

Or  let  us  weep  for  joy,  that  he  is  bleil ; 

From  grief  to  blefs,  from  earth  to  acav'n  remov'd, 

His  mein'ry  honour'dl,  as  his  life  belov'd: 

That  heart  o'er  wjiich  no  evil  e'er  had  pow'r  ; 

That  difpofiaon  ficknefs  could  not  four  ; 

That  fenfe  fo  olc  to  liper  years  denied, 

That   patience   heroes   might   have    own'd   with 

pride. 

His  painful  race  undauntedly  he  ran, 
And  in  the  eleventh  winter  die'cTa  man. 

.    ' .  s  -.T     < 

Epitaph  on  the  Rev.  Mr.  Reynolds,  at  St.  Peter's  i/j 
the  Ijle  of.Thanet. 

WAS  rhetoric  on  the-lips  of  forrow  hung, 

Or  could  affliction  lend  the  heart  a  tongue, 

Then  ihould  my  foul,  in  noble  anguifli  free, 

Do  glorious  juitice  to  herfelf  and  thee. 

But  ah  !  when  loaded  with  a  weight  of  woe, 

liv'n  nature,  bleffed  nature  is  our  foe. 

When  we  fliould  praife,  we  fympathetic  groan, 

For  fad  mortality  is  all  our  own. 

Yet  but  a  word:   as  lowly  as  he  lies, 

He  fpurns  all  empires  and  after  ts  the  fkies. 

Blufh,  power  !  he  had  no  intereil  here  below  ; 

Blum,  malice  !  that  he  died  without  a  foe ; 

The  univerfal  friend,  fo  form'd  to  engage, 

Was  far  too  precious  for  this  world  and  age. 

Years  were  denied,  for  (fuch  his  worth  and  truth) 

Kind  heaven  has  call'd  him  to  eternal  youth. 

To  my  Worthy  Friend  Mr.  T.  B.  one  of  the  People  called 
Quakers.    Written  in  bis  Garden,  July  I7JZ. 

FREE  from  the  proud,  the  -pompous,  and  the  vain, 
How  fnnply  neat  and  elegantly  plain, 
Thy  rural  villa  lifts  its  modeil  head, 
Where  fair  convenience  reigns  in  faihion'd  Head ; 
Where  fober  plenty  does  its  blifs  impart, 
.And  glads  thine  hofpitable,  honeft  heart. 
Mirth  without  vice,  and  rapture  without  noife, 
And  all  the  decent,  all  the  manly  joys ! 
Beneath  a  lhadowy  bow'r,  the  fummer's  pride, 
Thy  darling  *  Tullia  fitting  by  thy  fide  ; 
Where  light  and  made  in  varied  feenes  difplay^ 
A  contrail  fweet,  like  friendly  Yea  and  Nay. 
My  hand  the  fecretary  of  my  mind, 
Leaves  thee  thcfe  lines  upon  the  poplar's  rind. 

On  Seeing  the  Piflure  of  Mifs  R G -n .    Drawn 

by  Mr.  fareljl,  of  'Tbreadnctdle-jlreet. 

SHALL  candid  f  Prior,  in  immortal  lays, 
Thy  anceflor  with  generous  ardour  praife ; 
Who,  with  his  pencil's  animating  pow'r, 
In  livelieil  dyes  immortaliz'd  a  flow'r, 
And  mall  no  juft,  impartial  bard  be  found,      "• 
Thy  more  exalted  merits  to  rcfound  ? 

*   Mis  Daughter. 

t  Sa  -verfes  on  a  fewer  painted  ty  Varelj1t 


Wiio  giv'ft  to  beauty  a  perpetual  bloom, 
And  lively  grace,  which  -age  fhall  not  coafume  ; 
Who  mak'fl  the  fpeaking  eyes  with  meanirg  roll, 
And  paim'ft  at  ones  the  body  and  the  lonl. 

t 

An  Invitation  to  Mrs.  T\/fr,  a  CJerf-yiaaq't  Lady,  ta 
Dine  upon  a  CuupU  of  Duds  on  .'£•  slnnivtrfarv  of 


upo 
•  Authors 


rfury  of 


HAD  I  the  p'-n  of  Sir  John  Stickling, 
And  couid  find  out  a  rhyme  for  duckling, 
Why  dearcft  m^dam,  i;i  that  cafe, 
I  would  invite  you  to  a  brace. 
Hafte,  gentle  fihepherdefe,  away, 
1'o-morrow  is  the  gaudy  day, 
That  day,  when  to  my  ion^ing'  arm", 
Nancy  refign'd  her  golden  charms, 
And  let  my  am'roiis  inclination 
Upon  the  bus'nol's  of  the  na  ion. 
InduRrious  Moll,  ||  with  many  a  pluck, 
Unwings  the  plumage  of  each  duck ; 
And  as  Ihe  fits  a  brooding  o'er, 
You'd  think  flie'd  hatch  a  couple  more. 
Come,  all  ye  mufes,  come  and  ling — 
Shall  we  then  roail  them  on  a  firing  ? 
Or  fhall  we  make  our  dirty  jilt  run> 
To  beg  a  roaft  of  Mrs.  §  Bikon  ? 
But  to  delight  you  more  with  thcfe, 
We  mall  provide  a  difh  of  peafe  : 
On  ducks  alone  we'll  not  regale  you, 
We'll  wine,  we'll  punch  you,  and  v.e'llale 
To-morrow  is  the  gaudy  day, 
Hafle,  gentle  Ihepherdds,  away. 


TO  MISS 


P E. 


FA  IK  partner  of  my  Nancy's  heart, 

Who  feel'fl.,  like  me,  love's  poignant  dart; 

Who  at  a  frown  caiift  pant  for  pain, 

And  at  a  finite  revive  again  ; 

Who  doat'll  to  that  Ibverc  degree, 

You're  jealous,  e'en  of  conftaacy  ; 

Born  hopes  and  fears  and  doubts  to  prove, 

And  each  viciiiitude  of  love  ! 

To  this  my  humble  fuit  attend, 

And  be  my  advocate  and  friend. 

So  may  juil  Heav'n  yiprjroodncfs  blcft, 

Succefsful  ev'n  in  myfu'c'cefs! 

Oft  at  the  filent  hour  of  night, 

When  bold  intruiion  wings  her  flight, 

My  fair,  from  care  and  bus'nefs  free, 

Unbofoms  all  her  foul  to  thee, 

Each  hope  with  which  her  bofom  heave*, 

Each  tender  wifh  her  heart  receives 

To  thee  are  intimately  known, 

And  all  her  thoughts  become  thy  own : 

Then  take  the  blcfledblifsfulhour, 

To  try  love's  fwcet infectious  pow'r; 

And  let  your  filter  fouls  confpire 

In  love's,  as  friendfhip's  calmer  fire. 

So  may  thy  tranfport  equal  mine, 

Na~y— every  joy  be  doubly  thine  ! 

J  As  every  gnod  fatfun  is  the  Jbephtrd  of  b'n 
bis  "wife  is  ajbcphcrdtfi  of  courfe. 
||    The  ntaid. 
§  The  landlady  oft-'ie  public-be  ift. 


So  may  the  youth,  whom  you  prefer, 
Be  all  1  wifli  to  be  to  her. 


THE  WORKS   OF   SMART. 

Nafus  ab  ore  meus  tua  fi  tenet  ofcula,  diiir, 
Qua  nafus  non  eft,  liac  dare  parte  potes. 


EXTEMPORE, 

In  tie  Kings  Bench,  on  hearing  a  Haven  Croak, 

YON  raven  once  an  acorn  took 

From  Romney's  ftouttft  talleft  tree, 

He  hid  it  by  a  limpid  brook, 
And  iiv'd  another  oak  to  fee. 

Thus  melancholy  buries  hope, 

Which  Providence  keeps  ftill  alive, 

Bids  us  with  afflictions  cope,  •> 

And  all  anxiety  furvive, 

I)ISSERTISSIME  Romuli  Nepotum, 
Quot  funt,  quotque  fuere,  Marce  Tulli, 
l.t  quot  poft  aliis  erunt  in  annis, 
Gratias  tibi  maximas  Catullus, 
Agit  peffimus  omniuhi  Poeta  ;— 
Tanto  pefilmus  omnium  Poeta, 
•Qjjanto  tu  optimus  omnium  patronus. 

Imitated  after  Dining  ivltb  Mr.  Murray. 

O  T HOD,  of  Britifh  orators  the  chief 
"1'hat  were,  or  are  in  being,  or  belief; 
All  eminence  and  goodnefs  as  thou  art, 
Accept  the  gratitude  of  Poet  Smart, — 
The  meaneft  of  the  tuneful  train  as  far, 
As  thou  tranfcend'ft  the  brighteft  at  the  bar. 

INSCRIPTIONS  ON  AN  AEOLIAN  HARP. 

On  one  End. 

PARTEM  aliq\iam,   O  venti,  divum  referatis  ad 
'  'atires. 

On  one  Side.  " 

Salve,  qrz  fingis  proprlo  modulamine  carmen, 

Salve  Memnoniam  vox  imitttta  lyrani  ! 
Dulce  O  di  divinurrique  fonas  fme  pollicis  ictu, 

Dives  naturzE'fimplicis,'  artis  inops ! 
Talia,  qua.  incultze  daiit  mellea  hbra  puelbe, 
Tafia  funt  faciles  quas  niodulantur  aves. 

On  the  other  Side. 
Hail  heav'nly  harp,  'where  Memnon's  fkill  is 

fhown, 

That  charm'ii  the  ear  with  muiic  all  thine  own  ! 
"Which  though  untouch'd,  can'ft  rapturous  ftrains 

impart, 

O  rich  of  genuine  nature,  ft  ee  from  art ! 
.Such  the  wild  warblings  of  the  1'ylvan  throng, 
So  fimply  fweet  the  untaught  virgins  fpng.  ' 

On. the  other  £/iJ.  i  • 

Chriftophorus  Sniurt  Henrico  Bell,  Armigero.    • 

AN  EPIGRAM  BY  SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 

DE  TYNDASO. 

NON  minimo  infignem  nafo  dum  forte  puellum, 
Brifiat,  enl  voiuk  Tyndarus  efTe  dicax. 

Fru^lra,  ait.  ergo  tuis  mea  profero  labra  labellis, 
Ncftra  procul  naiusdeilijnet  oratuus. 

Protirtus^erubuit,  tacitaque  excaiiduit  ira, 

'•   Mcjrpe  paruHi  falTo.  tada  pudla  i'aic.     . 


THE  LONG-NOSED  FAIR. 

ONCE  on  a  time  I  fair  Dorinda  kifs'd, 
Whofe  nofe  was  too  diftinguifh'd  to  be  mifs'd; 
My  dear,  fays  I,  Ifain  would  kifs  you  clofer, 
But  though  your  lips  fay  aye— your  nofe  fays,  n», 

Sir. — 

The  maid  was  equally  to  fun  inclin'd, 
And  plac'd  her  lovely  lily-hand  behind ; 
Here,  fwain,  fhe  cry'd,  may'ft  thou  fecurely  kifs, 
Where  there's  no  nofe  to  interrupt  thy  bliis. 

FANNY,  BLOOMING  FAIR. 

Tranjlatid  into  Latin,   in  the  manner  of  Jifr. 
Bourne, 

CUM  primum  ante  oculos,  viridi  lafciva  juventa, 

Non  temere  attonitos  Fannia  pulchra  iletit,   ' 
Ut  mihi  fe  grains  calor  infmuavit  in  ofia 

Miranti  fpeciem,  virgineumque  decus! 
Dum  partes  meditor  varias,  et  amabile — quid  non  ? 

Luurandique  acies  magna  libido  capit ; 
Prodigus  et  laudum  dum  formam  'ad  fidera  tollo, 

Subdolus  en !  furtim  labitur  intus  omor. 

Idalii  pueri,  Venerifque  exercitus  omnis 

Exornat  multo  lumina  fceta  dolo  ; 
Hie  currus,  hie  tela  jacent,  hie  arcus  Amoris, 

Cypri  pofthabitis  hie  manet  ipfe  jugis. 
Nativis  geria  pulchra  rofis  veftita  fuperbit, 

Invalidam  artificis  fpernere  nata  manum ; 
Non  tantas  jaiSat  veneres  fuaviflimus  horn 

Incola,  quando  novis  fpirat  amoma  comis. 

Concinnis  membris  patet  immortalis  origo, 
Ilia  Jovis  monftrat  quid  potuere  manus  ; 
Reginamque  Cnidi,  formofam  Cyprida,  red  Jit, 

Quicunque  egregio  ludit  in  ore  decor !    ' 
(Quanta  mihi  nervos,  heu,  quanta  eft  flamma  me 
dullas, 

Pedloris  ut  video  luxuriantis  ebur--- 
Pecloris  eximix  nympha; — jam  duke  tumentis 
"  jam  fubfidcutis — fed  cupit  ante  premi. 

ircumdat  mediam  ceftus  fmihi  credite)  nymphani 

•Infignis  ceftus,  quem  dedit  ipfa  Venus: 
3ulce  fatellitium  circa  illam  ludit  amomm, 

Atque  hilares  ducit  turta  jocofa  chores.' 
Felix  ante  homines  iftius  cingula  zonae 

Qui  folvas,  felix,  quifquis  es,  ante  Deos  ! 
Omnes,  tanta  omnes,  nifi  me,  contingere  poffe 

Guadia,  vofque  Dii,  tuque  puella  neges. 

FANNY,  BLOOMING  FAIR. 

WHEN  Fanny  blooming  fair, 

Firft  caught  my  ravifh'd  fightt,     . 
^leas'd  with  her  fhape  and  air,     . 

I  feh  a  ftrange  delight : 
Whilft  eagerly  I  gaz'd, 

Admiring  ev'ry  part, 
And  ev'ry  feature  prais'd, 

She  ftole  into  my  heart. 

n  her  bewitching  eyes  , 

Ten  thoufand  loves-appeav, 


I    There  Cupi3  baSung  lies, 

His  (hafts  are  hoarded  there. 
Her  blooming  cheeks  are  dy'd 

With  colours  all  her  own,        > 
Excelling  far  the  pride 
Of  rofes  newly  blown. 

Her  well-turn'd  limbs  confefs 

The  lucky  hand  of  Jove  ; 
Her  features  all-exprels 

The  beauteous  O\ieen  of  Love. 
What  flames  my  nerves  invade, 

When  I  behold  the  breaft 
Of  that  too  charming  maid 

Rife  fuwg  to  be  preft  ! 

Vemu  round  Fanny's  waift 

Has  her  own  ceftus  bound, 
"There  guardian  Cupids  grace. 

And  dance  the  circle  round. 
How  happy  muft  he  be, 

Who  lhali  her  zone  unloofc  1 
That  blifs  to  all  but  me, 

May  Heav'n  and  fhe  refufe. 

THE  PRETTY  CHAMBERMAID. 


la  Imitation  of  Horace,   Ode  If. — Ne fit-  Ancil- 
-  lee  tibi  amor  pudtri,  te'c. 

COLLIN,  oh  !  ceafe  thy  friend  to  blame, 
Who  «ntertains  a  ferviie  flame, 
fchide  not — believe  me,  'tis  no  more 
Than  great  Achilles  did  before, 
Who  nobler,  prouder  far  than  he  is, 
Ador'd  his  chambermaid  Brifeis. 

The  thund'ring  Ajax  Venus  lays 
In  love's  ineKtricable  maze. 
His  Have  Tecmefla  makes  him  yield, 
Now  miftrefs  of  the  fevenfold  ihield. 
Atrides  with  his  captive  play'd, 
Who  always  fliar'd  the  bed  (lie  mad«. 

*Twas  at  the  ten  years  fiege,  when  all 
The  Trojans  fell  in  Hector's  fall, 
When  Helen  rul'd  the  day  and  night, 
And  made  them  love  and  made  them  fight; 
Each  hero  kifs'd  his  maid,  and  why, 
Though  I'm  no  hero,  may  not  1  ? 

Who  knows?  Polly  perhaps  m»y  be 

A  piece  of  ruin'd  royalty. 

She  has  (I  cannot  doubt  it)  been 

The  daughter  of  fome  mighty  queen ; 

3ut  fate's  irrem'able  doom 

Has  chang'd  her  fcepf  re  for  a  broom. 

Ah  '.  ceafe  to  think  it — how  can  fhe, 
So  gen'rous,  charming,  fond,  and  free, 
So  lib'ral  of  her  little  (tore, 
So  heedlefs  of  amafling  more, 
Have  one  drop  of  plebeian  blood 
In  all  the  circulating  flood  ! 

But  you,  by  carping  at  my  fire, 
Do  but  betray  your  own  defire— 
Howe'er  proceed — made  tame  by  yean, 
You'll  rails:  in  me  no  jealous  fears. 
You've  not  one  fpark,  of  love  alive, 
for,  thanks  to  Hcav'n,  jgu're  fgrry-£ye, 


O    E    M    S. 


CHRISTOPHORUS  SMART 

,       SAMUfiLI  SAUNDERS,   COL.  REGA1,    $, 

PHOEBUS  et  Liber,  charitefque  mecum 
Notfe  ccenabunt  (ita  fpondet  Hermes) 
Noftra  fed  urort'us,  nifi  te  magirtro, 

Poc'la  recufam. 
Attici  dives  venias  leporis, 
Non  fine  alFueto  venias  cachinno,  et 
Blanda  pinguedo  explicita  renidens 

Frontejocetur. 

Georgium  expe&o,  Salis  archite&um. 
Duphcis  vafrum  fatis,  semulotque 
Spero  vos  inter  fore  nunc,  ut  olim, 

Nubile  bellum. 

Dirmque  lucubrata  per  omne  longi 
Frigoris  fzclum  pueros  tenellos 
Alma  nox  pittas  videt  otiofos 

Velvere  chartas. 

Prohpudorl  devotalucrojuventus 
(Ut  puelJamm  numerus  fenumque) 
Pallet  infomnis  repetita  duri 

Jurgia  ludi. 

Sperne  (nam  multx  cerebrum  Minersa 
Eft  tibi)  nugas  age  quseftuofas, 
Arduas,  vanas,  et  amara  curx 

Elue  mecum. 


Jam  rigit  tellus,  hyemantque  mcnfes, 
Veftra  fed  laurus  vircat,  tuifque 
In  genis  dulcis  rofa  fanitatis 

Sera  moretur. 

Aiil.  Pemb.  Cantab.  Cal.  Jan. 

THE  FAMOUS  GENERAL  EPITAPH  FROM 
DEMOSTHENES. 

THESE  for  their  country's  caufe  were  flieath'd  M 
arms, 

And  all  bale  imputations  dare  ckfpife  ; 
And  nobly  itruck  with  glory's  dreadful  charms, 

Made  death  thek  aim,  eternity  their  prize. 
For  never  could  their  mighty  fpirits  yield, 

To  fse  therafelves  and  countrymen  in  chains; 
And  earth's  kind  bofom  hides  them  in  the  field 

Of  battle,  fo  the  Will  Supreme  ordains  ; 
To  conquer  chance  and  -error's  not  reveal'd, 

For  mortals  fure  mortality  remains. 


*«»«»  thrrt 
eipipif  few** 
EAAtj»*»»,   »?  pi  ^t/Aax  av^-.n   ©ixrtf, 


'Zafta.T  iini  ©w|T«?V  tx  A«o;  lit  xpertf 

IjSit  etftCtfTtlV    t<T*    ®tU1   KQU    •Wfil   X<XT»J0«l'>> 
E'»  fltTn  KCtP»1  OtVTl  fywyttV     l7T»Ji». 

M  iiij 


THE  WORKS   OF  SMART. 


CARMEN  IN  C^ECILIAM. 

A  Latin  Verjion  of  Pope's  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's 
Day. 

DESCENDS  ccelo,  fpiritu  quse  melleo 

Imples,  Camcena,  tibi as ; 
Defcende  pulfas  quse  lyratn  volucri  manu, 
Nervumque  fopitum  excita: 
Difcat  fundere  fuaviter  feveras 
Teftudo  numerofa  cantilenas : 
Cava  claflica  clangoribus  auras 
Repleant,  refonent  tremebundarum 
Laquaria  coiwulfa  demorum  : 
Inque  vicem  lenta  gravia  organa  majeftate 
Spirent,  auguftoque  fonore  inllata  tumefcant. 
Ut  clare,  ut  placidi  molliter  auribus 
Se  furtim  bibulis  iniiouatit  modi  ! 
Mox  toliunt  violentum  altius  altius 

Auditum  Superis  lonum  1 

Jaraque  exultantes  numeri  atque  audacia  turgent 
CanrJna,  jam  tremulus  fractis  fluitat  furor  auris  ;• 
Donee  minutatim  remota, 
Jam  liquefatfla, 
Jam  moritura, 
Murmura  languent^ 
JVlurmura  duki 
Leniter  attenuate  cam. 

JEquas  ut  fervat  mQderatrix  Mufica  mentesl 
Ut  premit,  aut  laxat  mollibus  imperils  I 
Seu  gaudioruni  turbiila  pectora 
Tumuftuofis  fluclibiis  a'ftuant, 
Trauquillat ;  urget  feu  malorum 
\         Pondus,  humo  levat  Ilia  voce. 
Geftit  hejlantes 'animoib  accendere  cantu  ; 
Blandacjue  amatori  medicumina  fulficit  legro : 
Lmguens  ecce  !  caput  Mcefcitia  cvigit, 
Mor])heus  molliculis  profilit  e  loiis, 
Ulnas  implicitas  pandit  Inertia, 
Audit  diciduis  InViclia  anguibus  : 
Iiiteftina  animi  ceiTatit  bella  ;  appiicat  anres 
Seditio,  nee  prsecipites  retniniiVitur  iras. 
Aft  ubi  dulcis  amor  patritc  pia  mittit  in  arms, 
O-!  quanto  accendur.t  mavortia  tympana  pulfu  ! 
Sic,  cum  prima  viam  n;ivis  tentaret  inaui'am, 
Thraxcccinit,  puppique  lyram  tradtavit  in  aha, 
Dum  vidit  Argo  Pelion  arduum 
pinus  forores  defcercre  impigras, 
Et  turba  circumfufa  muto 

Semideum  itupuere  piaufu : 
Iriceditheros,  quiiquis  atuliit  fonum, 

Amore  flagrans  gloria; ; 
Dum  ieminudum  quU'que  rapit  manu 
£n}err),  et  corniest  multiplicem  a'g'.da  : 
Ad  arma  fylvje,  ad  anna  monies, 
'I'erra,  mare,  aftra  fonarit  ad  anna  ! 
Seel,  cum  jier  orci  limites  cavernofi, 
Amplexibus  quos  igneis  obit  funians 
I'hlegethon,  Poetam,  Morte  non  minus  pollens, 
Adire  jv^ffit  pallidos  Amor  manes, 
QIISE  miracl'a  fonorum  ! 
Qua:  feralia  monftra  videri, 
Diras  per  oras  diflita  ! 
Horrida  fulgura, 
Vox  penetrabilis 
S-jeva 


Et  picei  ignis 
Trifte  crepufculum, 
Diri  ululatus, 
Et  gemitus  gravis 
Mceita  profunditas. 

Dumque  luunt  pcenas  animal,  tremuli  fingultus. 
Sed  audin  !  audin  !  auream  ferit  chelyn, 

Miferifque  fecit  otium  : 
En  '.  tenue  ut  patulis  auribus  agmen  adeft'. 
Quieicit  ingens  Sifyphi  faxum,  ct  fuse 

Acclinis  Ixion  rotre, 

Atque  leves  ineunt  pallida  fpeclra  chores ! 
Ferratis  fua  membra  toris  collapfa  reclinant 
Oblitffi  iramm  Eumenides,  et  lurica  circum 
Colla  aufcultantes  lefe  explicuere  colubri  1 
Per  fluentorum  vada,  qua;  peremii 
Rore  delibant  finuoto  ripas  ; 
Per  levein,  liqua  Elyfli  vireta 

Ventilat  aura ; 
Per  beatorum  Genius  colentes 
Arva  qua  paflim  afphodelisrenidet 
Gramen  auratis,  amaranthiiiaeve  um- 

bracula  frondis; 

Per  duces,  li  quis  dubiam  per  umbram 
Splendidis  late  loca  luftrat  arniis; 
Myrteaj  et  quifquis  querulus  vagatur 

Incola  fylvae ; 

Reddite  (vos  rapuiftis  enim)  mihi  reddite  fponfam, 
Obteftor,  parilive  adjimgite  me  quoque  fato  1 
Canit,  canent'i  Dis  ferns  amiuit, 
Ceditque  blandarum  harmonire  precum, 
Et  vic'ta  manfuefcunt  feverje 

Perfephones  fine  more  corda. 
lo  Triumphe  !  Mors  et  Orcus  Orpheo 

Lietantur  domitore  domari, 
Vatemque  mira  infigniunt  vicloria  ! 
Fata  obftant — novies  Styx  circumfuia  coercet— 

Nequicqtiam— vincit  mufica,  vincjt  amor. 
Sed  nimiiun,  heti '.  nimium  impatitns  refpexit  a- 

mator: 

Ah  !  cecidit,  cecidit,  fuLitoque  elapfa  refugit ! 
Q_ua  prece  jam  furdas  fledlts,  temerarie,  Parcas? 
At  tu,  fi  crimen.  crimen  amantes  habes. 
Nunc  pendulisfub  antris, 
Jugefve  propter  undas, 
Ubi  callibus  reductis 
Temere  vagatur  Hebrus 
Hcu  !  folus,  neque 
Auditus,  ricque 
Cognitus  ulh, 
Fletus  integrat, 
Teque  gemens  vocat,  Eurydice, 

PercHta,  perdita, 
Heu' !  omne  in  sevum  perdita  ! 
Nunc  totum  Eumenides  exagitant,  jugis 
En  I  canse  Rhodopes  in  gelidis  tremit, 
Ardefcens  tremit,  rnfanit,  Ipemque  abjicit  omnem. 
Ecce  !  per  avia  luftra  furens  fugit  ocyoi  Euro  > 
Evoe  1  perftrepit,   audin',  ut  Haemus/et  ingemit 
evoe!— 

Ah  !  perit ! — 

Eurydicen  tamen  extrema  cum  voce  profundit, 
Eurydicen  tremulo  murmure  lingua  canit, 
Eurydicen  nemus, 
Eurydicen  aquse, 

Eurydicen    montes,    gerr.ebundagne    faxa   retor- 
quent. 


POEMS. 


Lucius  mulica  teraperat  feroces, 
Kt  fati  levat  ingruentis  iolus  : 
Dulcis  mufica  moliter  dolorem 
Mutat  ketitia  ;  tbnante  pleclro 
Spes  averfa  redit,  Furor  recumbit : 
Nohis  iila  eadem  breves  adauget 
Terras  delicias,  opefqtie  coeli 
Praefentire  docet  remotiores. 

Hinc  folum  cecinit  Numen,  memor,  unde  beatam 
Ccperat    harononiani    et    modulamina    non    fua, 

Virgo. 
Organa  plena  choris  ubi  magnifico  confentu 

Miicentur,  aurem  auhyrei  inclinant  incolse; 
Terreftres  auima:  tolluntur  in  altra  tumenti 
Carmine,  divinoque  alitur  facra  tiarama  furore  ; 
;  Dum  prona  coelo  pendet  angelum  cohors. 
.     Orpheiim  3<tm  taceant  Pierides  fuum, 
Major  Cascilise  vis  datur  inclytse. 
Ille  vix  umbram  revocavit  orco; 
Ilia  fublatas  fuper  aftra  mentes 
Inferit  coelo,  fuperifque  mifcet 
Carmine  Divis. 

'o  niArNiaAHS. 
A  Latin  Verfion  of  Milton's  L' Allegro. 

Xvutrta  %*XKftu»,  ix&rofi£ci  inttGuuv.      HoM. 

.PROCUI.  hinc,  O  procul  efto  informis  JEgriraonia, 
(.hiam  janitori  Obfcuritas  nigerrima 

S\ifcepit  olim  Cerbero, 
Delertem,  in  cavea  Stygis  profunda, 
Horribilis  inter  formas,  vifufque  profanos, 

Obfcoenolque  ululatus, 
Inculram  licet  invenire  fedem, 

Nox  ubi  parturiens 
Zelotypis  turtim  nido  fuperincubat  alis 

CVueriturque  triftis  noclna, 
Sub  denfis  illic  ebenis  fcopulifque  cavatis, 

Veftri  rugolis  more  fupercilii, 
JEtenrum  rnaneas  Cirameria  in  domo. 

Sed  hue  propinquet  comls  et  pulcherrima, 
Quz  nympha  divis  audit  Euphrofyne  choris, 
Patiens  taoien  vocatur  a  mortalibus 
Medicina  cordis  hilaritas,  quam  Candida 
Venus  duabus  infuper  cum  Gratiis 
Dias  Lyseo  patri  in  auras  edidit : 
£ive  ille  ventus  (cxteri  ut  Myae  canunt) 
Jocundus  auraqui  ver  implet  mellea, 
Zephyrus  puellam  amplexus  eft  Tithoniam 
(Quondam  calendis(feriatam  Maiis, 
Tune  pallidis,  geriuit  fuper  violariis, 
Super  et  rofarum  rofcida  lanugine, 
Alacrem,  beatam,  vividamque  filiam. 
Agendum  puella,  quin  pari  vadant  gradu 
Jocus  et  Juventas,  Scommata  et  Protervitas, 
Dolufque  duplex,  nutus  et  nictatio, 
•  Tenuifque  riius  hue  et  hue  contortillis ; 
Qualis  venuft  pendet  Hebes  in  gena, 
Amatque  jungi  laevibus  gelafinis  ; 
Curse  fequatur  Ludus  infeftus  nigr«,  et 
Laterum  Cachinnus  pingutum  fruftra  tenax. 
Agite  caterva  ludatexultim  levis, 
Pedeique  dulcis  fublevet  lafcivia  ; 
Dextrumque  claudat  alma  Libertas  latus ; 
Qreadum  palantium  fuavifllma  j 
tuis  honoribus  non  defu^ 


Me  fcribe  veftrje,  laeta  Virgo,  tamilix, 
Ut  illius  limul  et  tui  conlbrtio 
I^iberrima  juvenemur  innocentia  ; 
Ut  cum  volatus  aulpicatur  concitos ; 
Stupulamque  alauda  voce  noclem  terrttat ; 
Levata  cceleftem  in  pharon  djluculo, 
Priufqae  gilvum  quam'rubet  crepulculum. 
Tune  ad  leueltras  (anxii  noliiu,  veliut) 
Diem  precemur  profperam  vicinice, 
Caput  esercntes  e  rolis  fylvuitribu<, 
Seu  vite,  live  flexili  cynoibato. 
Dum  Martins,  clamore  Gailus  vivi  jo 
Tenuem  laceflh  in  fuga  caliginem, 
Graditurve  fanis  ad  Itruem,  vel  horrcum, 
Domine  przeuns,  graduque  grandi  gloriaus. 
Sape  audiamus  ut  canes,  et  cornua 
Sonore  Ixto  mane  fopitum  cient, 
Dum  qua  pra;alti  clivus  albefcit  jugi, 
Docilis  conora  reddit  Echo  murmuia. 
Mox,  terle  multo,  qua  virent  colics,  vager, 
Ulmolque  fepes  ordirtatasimjjlkat, 
!  Eoa  flans  apricus  ante  limina, 
|  Ubi  fol  corufcum  magnus  inftaurat  clictn 
Veftitus  igni,  lucidoque  i'uccino, 
Inter  micaiituin  inille  formas  r.ubiutn. 
Vicinus  agrum  dum  colonus  trankucut, 
Atque  semulatur  ore  fiftulain  rudi, 
Mulclramque  portal  cantitans  pucllula, 
Falciqui  cotem  mellbr  uptat  irridaiu;, 
Suamque  paftor  quifque  garnt  fabuiam, 
Reclinis  in  convalle,  fubter  arbuto, 
Mox  illecebras  oculus  arripuit  nuv.is, 
Dum  longus  undiquaque  proipeclas  pater, 
Canum  novaie,  et  fafca  i'altus  aiiuiora, 
Q_ua  peccora  grainen  demetunt  vagautia  ; 
Sublimium  Iteriiia  terga  oiontium, 
Qui  p'onderofa  Ixpe  turquent  nubila, 
Macuiofa  vernis  prata  pu<lim  bellibus, 
Amnes  vadoli,  et  latsora  flumina. 
Pinnafque  murorum,  atque  turres  cernerc  eft 
Criftata  circiim  quas  coronant  robora, 
Ubi  forte  qusedaru  nympha  fallit,  cui  decor 
Viciniam  (cynotura  tanquam)  illuminat. 
Juxta  duarum  fubter  umbra  qticrcuum, 
Culmis  oporta  f  urn  us  emioat  cafa, 
Qjia  jam  vocati  Thyrfis  ct  Corydon  fedent, 
Famemque  odoro  cotupriinent  convivio, 
Herbis,  cibifque  rufticis,  nitidilHru:1 
Qua;  fufHcit  luccincla  Phillis  dextera: 
Mox  Theityli  morem  gerens  jacentia 
Auries  catenis  cogit  in  t'afces  fata  : 
Vernifve  in  horis,  fole  toftum  vir<jine» 
Ftenum  recenti  pellicit  fragrantia ; 
Eft  et  ferenis  quando  Wtta  gaudiis 
Excelfiora  perplacent  magulia ; 
Utcunque  juxta  flumen  in  numerum  fonant 
Campanas,  et  icla  duke  barbitos  lUepit 
Dum  multa  nympha,  multa  pubes  duriter 
Pellunt  Trementes  ad  canorem  cefpites 
Dubias  per  umbras  :  qua  labore  liberi 
Juveoefque  ludunt,  et  fenes  pramifcui, 
Melius  nitente  fole  jjropter  ferias. 
Jam  quando  vefperafcit,  omnes  allicit 
Auro  liquenti  Bacchus  hordiaceus, 
Phyllifque  narrat  fabulofa  facinora. 
Lamia  ut  paratas  Mabba  confumpfit  dapes, 
Se  vapulaffe,  et  efle  preffam  ab  Incubo, 


185 


THE   WORKS    OF   SMART. 


Fatuoque  trita  ab  igne  fedudtaro  via  ; 
lit  ct  laborem  fubiit  Idolom  gravetn,    , 
-Jloremque  laclis  mcritus  ell  ftipendium  ; 
Unius  (Jnquit)  ante  nodlis  exitom 
Tot  grana  frugis  fufte  trivit  veneficus, 
Quot  cxpedirc  ruftici  nequeunt  decem, 
Quo  jam  peradlo  plumbeum  monftrum  cubat, 
J'ocumque  totum  latcrere  longo  metiens 
Crinita  membra  feffus  igne  recreat ; 
Dein.  priufquam  gallus  evocat  diem, 
Tandem  fatur  phantafma  fefe  proripit. 
Sic  ebfolutis  fabulis  ineunt  toros, 
Atque  ad  fufurros  dormiunt  favonii. 
Turrita  deinde  perplatebunt  oppida, 
Et  gentis  occupatse  mixta  murmura, 
Equitumque  turba,  nobilefque  fpendidi, 
Qui  pacis  ipfi  vel  triumphant  in  toga1, 
Nurnfque,  quaruin  lumen  impetus  viris 
Jaculatur  acres,  preemiumque  deftinat 
Marti  aut  Minervae,  quorum  uterque  nititur 
Nymph*  probari,  quse  probatur  omnibus : 
Hymenseus  illic  fsepe  praetendat  facem 
Clariffimam,  croceumque  velamen  trahat, 
Speclac'la,  mimi,  pompa,  commiflatio, 
Veterumque  ritu  nodle  fint  convivia, 
TaJefque  vifus,  quos  videt  in  fomniis 
Juvenes  poetae,  dum  Celebris  rivuli 
Securi  ad  oram  vefperc  seftivo  jacent. 
Tune  ad  theatra  demigrem  frequeirtia 
Johnfone,  fi  tu,  docle  foccum  proferas ; 
Sive  *  Ille  mufae  nlius  fundat  fonos, 
Quam  duke,  quam  feliciter,  temerarios ! 
'   Curaeque  carmen  femper  antidotos  modis 
Mentem  relaxet  involutam  Lydiis; 
Oh  !  fun  perenni  eraancipatus  carmini, 
Quod  tentet  ufque  ad  intimum  cor  emicans, 
Aurefque  gratis  detinens  ambagibus 
Pedibus  legatis  fuaviter  neclar  moras, 
Dum  liquida  vox,  labyrinthus  ut,  defledlitur 
Dolo  perita  et  negligent!  induftria, 
Variaque  caetos  arte  nodosexplicat, 
Animam  latentem  qui  coercent  mufices; 
Adeo  ut  quiete  expergefaclus  aurea 
Toros  relinquit  ipfe  Thrax  amaranthinos, 
Medioque  tales  captet  Elyfio  fonos, 
Quales  avaram  fuadeant  Proferpinam 
Nulla  obligatam  lege  fponfam  reddere. 
His  fi  redundes  gaudiis,  prudentis  eft, 
I-setitia  tscum  velle  vitam  degere. 

DATUR  MUNDOR.UM  PLURALJTAS. 

UNDE  labor  novus  hie  menti?  Quse  cura  quietam 
Sollicitat,  rapienfque  extra  confinia  terrse, 
^oeleftes  fine  more  jubet  volitare  per  ignes  ? 
Scilicit  impatiens  angufto  hoc  orbe  teneri, 
Fontinelle,  tuos  audax  imitarier  aufus 
Geftio  eft  infolitas  fpirant  prsecordia  flammas. 
Fallor,  an  ipfe  venit  ?  Delapfus  ab  aethere  fum- 

ino 

Pegafon  urget  eques,  laterique  flagellifer  inftat : 
Me  vocat ;  et  duris  defifte  lafeoribus,  inquit, 
41  Me  duce,  carpe  viam  facilem,  tibi  fingula  clare 
"  Expediain,  tibi  cernere  erit,  quos  fidera  norunt, 
"  Indigenas  cultufque  virum,  morefque  docebo." 


Nee  mora,  pennipedem  confcendojufllis,  ovanfquft 
(Quanquam  animus  fecum  volvens  exempla  prio- 

rum 

Bellerophonteae  pallet  difpendia  famae) 
Poft  equitem  fedeo,  liquid umque  per  aero  labor. 
— Mercurium  petimus  primum:  Duxtalibus  infit; 
"  Afpicias  vanae  malefana  negotia  gentU, 
"  Quam  mens  deftituit  Titanae  exuft  propinquo. 
"  Stramineis  viden'?  Hie  velatus  tempora  fertis 
"  Emicat,  et  folos  reges  crepat  atque  tetrarcha*. 
"  IHe  fuam  carbone  Chleon  depingit  amator 
"  Infelix,  asgram  rudia  indigeftaque  mentem 
"  Carmina  demulcent,  indoc'loque  tibia  mufas. 
"  En  !  fedet  incomptus  crines  barbataque  nienta 
"  Aftrologos,  nova  venatur  fidera,  folus 
"  Semper  in  obfcuro  penstrali ;  multaque  muros 
"  Linea  nigrantes,  et  multa  triangula  pingunt. 
"  Ecce  I  fed  interea  curro  rlamante  propinquat 
"  Titan — Clamo,   O  me !    gelida  fub  rupe,   fuk 

"  umbra 
"  Sifte  precor :  tantos  nequeo  perferre  calores." 

Pegafon  inde  tuo  genius  felicior  aftro 
Appulit,  alma  Venus.  Spirant  quam  molliteraurael 
Ridet  ager,  frugum  facilis,  lafcique  florum 
Nutrix ;  non  Euri  ruit  hie  per  dulcia  Tempe 
Vis  fera,  non  Boreae  ;  fed  blandior  aura  Favoni, 
Lenis  agens  tremulo  nutantes  vertice  fylvas, 
Ufque  fovet  teneros,  quos  ufque  refcufcitat,  ignes. 
Hie  Ixtis  anitnata  fonis  Saltatiu  vivit : 
Hie  jam  voce  ciet  cantum,  jam  peftine,  diilces 
Mufica  doifla  inuuos :  pulchrae  longo  ordine  nym. 

phaj 

Feftivas  ducunt  choreas,  dilecTia  juventus 
Certatim  flipaut  comites :  late  halat  amomo 
Omnfi  nemus,  varioque  teterni  veris  adore  : 
Curaprocul:  circumvolitant  rifufquejocique:  , 
Atque  amor  eft,  quodcunque  vides.     Venus  ipfa 

volentes 

Imperio  regit  indigenas,  hie  innuba  Phosbe, 
Innuba  Pallas  amet,  cupiant  fervire  Catones. 

Jamque  datum  molimur  iter,  fedefque  beatas 
Multa  gemsns  linquo  ;  et  lugubre  rubentia  Martis 
Arva,  ubi  fanguineae  dominantur  in  omnia  rixae, 
Advehimur,  ferro  riget  horrida  turba,  geritque 
Spiculaque,  gladiofque,  ferofque  in  beila  dolones, 
Pro  chorea,  et  dulci  modulamine,  Pyrrhicus  illis 
Saltus,  et  horribiles  placet  acre  ciere  fonores. 
Hie  conjux  viduata  viro  longo  effera  lutfhi    [nzo* 
Flet  nodlem,  folumque  toium  fterilefque  Hyme- 
Deplorans,  lacerat  crines,  et  pe&ora  plangit : 
Nequiquam — fponfus  ni  forte  appareat,  hofpes 
Heu  1  brevis,  in  fomnis,  et  ludicra  fallat  imago. 
Immemor  ille  tori  interea  ruit  acer  in  hoftem : 
Horrendum  ftrepit  armorum  fragor  undique  cam* 

pis; 

Atque  immortales  durant  in  fecula  pugnae. 
Hinc  Jovis  immenfum  delati  accedimus  orbem. 
Illic  mille  locis  exercet  faeva  tyrannus 
Imperia  in  totidem  fervus,  totidemque  rebelles: 
Sed  brevis  exercet :  parat  illi  fata  veneno 
Perjurus,  populofque  premit  novus  ipfe  tyrannus. 
Hi  decies  pacem  figunt  pretio  atque  refigunt : 
Turn  demura  arma  parant :  longe  lateque  cohortea 
Extenduntur  agris;  fimul  aquora  tola  teguntur 
Claffibus,  et  fi<fli  celebrantur  utrinque  triumphi. 
Foedera  mox  ineuut  nunquam  violanda ;  brevique 
Belli  iterura  umuhchracient:  reierantwr  i 


POEMS. 


ClaffcS.'pacIficoque  replcntur  milhc  campi. 
tm'ushic  patri  meditatur,  fporifa  marito, 
t^crvtis  hero  infidias.  Has  leges  fcilicet  illis 
Jinpoiuit  natura  locis,  quo  tempore  patrem 
Jupiter  ipfe  fuum  folio  detrufit  avito. 
hide  venena  viris,  perjuria,  munera,  fraudes 
iniadet  opum  fitis,  ct  regnandi  dira  cupido. 

Saturni  tandum  nos  ilketabilis  ora 
Accipit :  ignavum  pecus  hie  per  opaca  locorum 
Pinguefcunt  de  more,  gravi  torpentque  veterno. 
Vivitur  in  fpecubus:  quis  enim  tarn  fedulus,  arces 
Qui  ftruat  ingentes,  operofaque  maenia  condat  ? 
Idem  omnes  itupor  altus  habet,  fub  pectore  fixus. 
Non  ftudio  ambitiofa  Jovis,  variofque  labores 
Mercurii,  non  Martis  opus,  non  Cyprida  norunt. 
Poll  obitum,  ut  perhibent,  fedes  glomerantur  in 

iftas. 

C*ui  Icngam  nullas  vitam  excoluere  per  artes ; 
Scd  Crerere  et  Baccho  pleni,  fomnoque  fepulti 
Cundtarum  duxere  sterna  oblivia  rerum. 
Non  avium  auditur  cantus,  non  murmur  aquarum, 
Mugitufve  boum,  aut  pecorum  balatus  in  agris  : 
Nudos  non  decorant  legetes,  non  gramina  compos, 
Sylva,  ufquam  fi  fylva,  latet  iub  monte  nivali, 
Et  canet  viduata  comis :  hie  noftua  tantiim 
Glifque  habitat,  bufoque  et  cum  tefludine,  talpa. 
Plumina  dum  tarde  fubterlabentia  terras 
Pigram  undam  volvunt,  et  fola  papavera  pafcunt : 
Quorum  lentus  odor,  lethseaque  pocula  fomnos 
Suadent  perpetuos,  circumfufseque  tenebrae. 
Horrendo  vifu  obflupui :  quin  Pegafon  ipfum 
Defecere  animi:  fenfit  dux,  terque  flagello 
Infonuit  clarum,  terque  ulta  voce  morantem 
Increpuit :  fecat  ille  cito  pede  la;  via  campi 
JEthertly  terrsque  fecunda  allabitur  aura. 

Cantabr.  in  Comitiis  prior  ibus}  1740-1. 

'    A  VOYAQE  TO  THE  PLANETS. 

Tran/latfd  by  the  Rev,  Francis  Faivkesy  A.  M- 

SAY,  what  uncommon  cares  difturb  my  reft, 
And  kindle  raptures  foreign  to  my  breaft  ? 
From  earth's  low  confines  lift  my  mind  on  high, 
To  trace  new  worlds  revolving  in  the  iky  ? 
•  Yes — I'm  impatient  of  this  orb  of  clay, 
And  boldly  dare  to  meditate  my  way, 
Where  Fontinelle  firft  faw  the  planets  roll, 
And  all  the  god  tumultuous  (hakes  my  foul,    [ikies 
'Tis  he  !  he  comes  !  and  through  the  fun-bright 
Drives  foaming  Pegafus,  and  thus  he  cries : 
"  Ceafe,  ceafe,  dear  youth,  too  ftudioufly  employ'd, 
"  Arid  wing  with  me  the  unrefifting  void ; 
"  'Tis  thine  with  me  round  other  vyorlds  to  foar, 
"  And  vifit  kingdoms  never  known  before  ; 
"  While  1  fuccinclly  fhow  each  various  race, 
•'  The  manners  and  the  genius  of  the  place." 
I  (though  my  mind  with  lively  horror  fraught, 
Thinks   on   Bellerophon,    and   fliuddexs^  at   the 

thought), 

Mount  quick  the  winged  fteed;  he  fprings, he  flies, 
Shoots  through  the  yielding  air,  and  cleaves  the 

liquid  ikies  ! — 

Firft,  fwift  Cyllenius,  circling  round  the  fun, 
We  reach,  when  thus  my  friendly  guide  begun : 
"  Mark  well  the  genius  of  this  fiery  place, 
"  The  wild  amufcmenta  of  the  brain-fick  race,  • 
*'  Whole  minds  the  beams  of  Titan,  too  intenfe, 
*  Affeft  with  frenzy;  *nd  d»ttra<ft  tfce  f«nfe. 


"  A  monarch  here  gives  fubjeci:  princes  hw, 

"  A  mighty  monarch  with  a  crown  of  ttraw. 

"  There  fits  a  lover,  fad  in  peniive  air, 

"  And  like  the  difmal  -image  ofdefpair, 

"  With  charcoal  paints  his  Chloe  heav'nly  fair. 

"  In  fadly-foothing  ftraiu  rude  notes  he  lings, 

"  And  ftrikes  harlh  numbers  from  the  jarring 

"  firings. 

"  Lo  !  an  aftrologer,  with  filth  befrnear'd, 
"  Rough  and  neglected  with  a  length  of  bear  J, 
"  Pores  round  his  cell  for  undifcovcr'd  ftars, 
"  And  decks  the  walls  with  triangles  and  fquareg. 
"  Lo  ! — But  the  radiant  car  of  Phcebus  nigh 
"  Glows  with  red  ardour,  and  inflames  the  flcy — 
"  Oh !  waft  me,  hide  me  in  feme  cool  retreat ; 
"  I  faint,  I  ficken  with  the  fervent  heat." 

Thence  to  that  milder  orb  we  wing  our  way, 
Where  Venus  governs  with  an  eafy  i'way. 
Soft  breathes  the  air ;  for  Flora  paints  the  groundj 
And  laughing  Ceres  deals  her  gifts  around. 
This  bliisful  Tempe  no  rough  blafts  moleir, 
Of  bluft'ring  Boreas,  or  the  baleful  eaft  ; 
But  gentle  zephyrs  o'er  the  woodlands  ftray, 
Court  the  taH  trees,  and  round  the  branches  play, 
Ethereal  gales  difpenfing  as  they  flow, 
To  fan  thofe  paflions  which  they  teach  to  glow. 
Here  the  gay  youth  in  meafur'd  fteps  advance, 
While  fprightly  mufic  animates  the  dance; 
There  the  fweet  melody  of  founds  admire, 
Sigh  with  the  fong,  or  languifti  to  the  lyre: 
Fair^nymphs  and  amorous  youths,  a  lovely  band, 
Blend  in  the  dance,  light  bounding  hand  in  hand. 
From  every  grove  the  buckfome  zephyrs  bring 
The  rich  ambrofia  of  eternal  fpring. 
Care  dwells  not  here,  their  pleafures  to  deftroy. 
But  laughter,  jeft,  and  univerfal  joy : 
All,  all  is  love  ;  for  Venus  reigns  confefs'd 
The  fole  fultana  of  each  captive  breaft : 
Cold  Cynthia  here  would  Cupid's  victim  prove, 
Or  the  chafte  daughter  of  imperial  Jove, 
And  Cato's  virtue  be  the  flave  of  love, 

But  now  through  deftin'd  fields  of  air  we  fly, 
And  leave  thofe  manfions,  not  without  a  figh  : 
Thence  the  dire  coaft  we  reach,  the  dreary  plain?, 
Where  Mars,  grim  god,  and  bloody  difcord  reigns. 
The  hoft  in  arms  embattled  fternly  ftands, 
The  fword,  the  dart,  the  dagger,  in  their  hands. 
Here  no  fair  nymphs  to  filver  Ibunds  advance, 
But  bufkin'd  heroes  form  the  Pyrrhic  dance  ; 
And  brazen  uumpets,  terrible  from  far, 
With  martial  mulic  fire  the  foul  to  war ; 
Here  the  lone  bride  bewails  her  abfent  lord, 
The  fterile  nuptials,  the  deferted  board, 
Sighs  the  long  nights,  and,  frantic  with  defpair. 
Beats  her  bare  breaft,  and  rends  her  flowing  hair : 
In  vain  {he  fighs,  in  vain  difl'olvcsin  tears— 
In  fleep,  perhaps,  the  warrior  lard  appears, 
A  fleeting  form  that  glides  before  her  fight,  . 
A  momentary  vifion  of  the  night. 
Meanwhile  regardlefs  of  her  anxious  pray'r, 
The  hardy  hufband  fternly  ftalks  to  war ; 
Our  ears  the  clang  6f  ringing  armour  rendt. 
And  the  immortal  battle  never  ends. 

Hence  through  the  boundlcfs  void  we  nimbi/ 

move, 

And  reach  the  wide-extended  plains  of  Jove. 
Here  the  ftern  tyrant  fways  an  iron  rod; 
valla!*  tremble  at  lu»  nod* 


i83 


THE   WORKS    OF   SMART. 


How  fhort  the  pjriod  of  a  tyrant's  date  ! 

The  pois'nous  phial  fpeeds  the  work  of  fate  : 

{jcarce  is  the  pioud  imperious  tyrant  dead, 

But,  lo!  a  fecond  lords  it  in  his  ftead. 

Here  peace  a  common  merchandife,  is  fold, 

fteav'ns  firft  belt  blefling  for  pernicious  gold  : 

Waijfoon  fucceeds,  the  fturdy  fquadrons  ftand 

Wide  o'er  the  fields,  a  formidable  band  :       [main 

With  num'rous  fleets  they  crowd  the    groaning 

And  triumph  for  the  victories  they  feign  : 

Again  in  ftrict  alliances  unite, 

Till  difcord  raife  again  the  phantom  of  a  fight ; 

Again  they  fail ;  again  the  troops  prepare 

Their  fu!c.      .     tor  the  mockery  of  war. 

The  fon  inhuman  fceka  his  father's  life, 

The  flave  his  .rna:rcrs,  and  her  lord's  the  wife. 

With  vengea-  ueir  kin-lling  bofoms  fire, 

Since  Jove  uiu: ;.  -i  the  fceptre  of  his  fire. 

Thence  poifons,  perjuries,  and  Bribes  betray  ;    ~) 

Nor  other  paflions  do  their  fouls  obey, 

Than  thirft  of  gold,  and  avarice  of  fway.  j 

At  length  we  land,  vaft  fields  of  ether  croft, 
On  Saturn's  cold  uncomfortable  coaft  ; 
Here  iu  the  gloom  the  paniper'd  fluggard's  lull 
The  lazy  hours  letiiargkv.ily  dull. 
In  caves  they  live  ;  for  who  was  ever  known 
So  wife,  fo  Iedulous  to  build  a  town  ? 
The  fame  ftupidity  infects  the  whole, 
Fix'd  in  the  broall,  and  center'd  in  the  foul : 
Thd'e. never  feel  th'  ambitious  fires  of  Jove, 
To  induftry  not  Mercury  can  move, 
Mars  cannot  fpur  to  war,  nor  Venus  woo  to 

love. 

Here  rove  thofe  fouls,  'tis  faid  when  life  departs, 
Who  never  cultivated  ufeful  arts; 
But,  ftupify'd  with  plenty  and  repofe, 
Dream'd  out  long  life  in  one  continual  dofe ! 
No  feather'd  fongfters,  with  fweet-warbled  ftrains 
Attune  to  melting  melody  the  plains, 
No  flocks  wide  paft'ring  bleat,  nor  oxen  low, 

¥o  fountains  mufically  murmVing  flow ; 
h'  ungenial  wafte  no  tender  herbage  yields, 
No  harveft  waves  luxuriant  in  the  fields. 
JLow  lie  the  groves,   if  groves  this  land   can 

boait, 

Chain'd  in  the  fetters  of  eternal  froft, 
1'heir  beauty  with-r'd,  and  their  verdure  loft. 
Dull  animals  inhabit  this  abode, 
The  owl,  mole,  dormoufe,  tortoife,  and  the  toad. 
Dull  rivers  deep  within  their  channels  glide, 
And  flow  roll  on  their  tributary  tide : 
Nor  ought  th'  unvegetatiye  waters  feed, 
But  fleepy  poppy  and  the  fiimy  reed; 
\V-hofe  lazy  fogs,  like  Lethe's  cups,  difpenfe 
Eternal  numbers  of  dull  indolence,  , 

Aghaft  I  ftood,  the  drowfy  vapours  lull 
My  Ioul  in  gloom,  ev'n  Pegaius  grew  dull. 
My  guide  obferv'd,  and  thrice  he  urg'd  his  fpeed, 
Thrice  the  loud  lafh  refounded  from  the  fteed  ; 
Fir'd  at  the  ftrokes,  he  flies  with  fUcken'd  rein 
Swift  o'er  the  level  of  the  liquid  plain, 
Guides  me  with  gentle  gale,  and  lights  on  earth 
again. 

MATERIES  GAUDET  VI  INERTLY. 


patria,  qua  late  Hibernia  fqualent 
Arva  inarata,  palus  horenda  voragine  crebra 


Ante  ocules  jacet ;  haud  illic  impune  viator 
Per  tenebrasiter  inflituat;  tremit  undique  tellus 
Subpedibusnialefida,  vapores  undiqtie  denfos 
Sudat  humus,  nebulifque  amicitur  trifttbus  hcrbi. 

Hue  fato  infelix  fi  quando  agiteris  iniquo, 
Et  tuto  in  medium  liceat  penetrare,  videbis 
Attonitus,  nigra  de  nube  emergere  templum, 
1'emplum  ingens,immane,  altumpenetrale  Ituporis. 
Plumbea  ftat  turris,  plumbum  iuiuatur  in  aicus, 
Kt  folido  limofa  tument  fundamina  plumbo. 
rliinc,  pia  materies,  divo  %dciu  extruxit  inerti, 
Stultitiie  impulfu — quid  enim?   Lithargica  femper 
Sponte  fua  nihil  aggreditur,  dormitat  m-horas, 
tt  fine  vi,  nullo  gaudet  dea  languida  inotu. 

Hie  ea  monftra  habitant,  qua;  olim  iub  luminis 

auias 

Materies  pcperit  fomno  patre,  lividus  if:e 
Zoilus,  et  Bavio  non  impar  Mxvius;  nudax 
ipinoza,  et  Pyrrho,  cuinque  Hobbeiio  Epicurus. ' 
Ait  onineo  vaieat  qux  muia  referre  ?  frequenter 
Ufqut  adeo  videas  Hebetcs  properare  ? — nee  ad- 

fert 

Quidquam  opis  Anglorum  dociae  vicinia  gentis. 
Sic  quondam,  ut  perhibent,  ilupuit  Bceoticu  teilus 
Vicina  licet  Ar.tycira,  nihil  inde  falut V, 
Nil  tulit  hellebori  Zephyrus,  cum  fsepe  per  sequor 
Felicem  ad  Lefbon  levibus  volitaverit  alls, 
Indigena  mtllita  ferer.s  fulpira  Flora;. 

l-'orticus  iila  vide*  ?  Gothicis  fuffulta  column's 
Templi  auditus,  quam  laxa  patet !  cultodia  qualis. 
Ante  lores  !  quatuor  formae  fua  rollere  miris 
Ora  modis  !  en  !  torva  tuens  Itat  limine  in  ipfo 
Perfonam  logicis  induta  Ibphiitica,  denis 
Cincla  categoiiis,  matrem  qus  maxima  natu  [eft ! 
Filia  materiem   agnofcit — quantam  i:ii'tar  in  ipi'i 
Grande  caput,  tenucs  oculi,  cutii  arkia  produnt 
Fallacem  :  rete  una  nianus  tenet,  altera  iuftem, 
Veftis  arachneis  fordit  circvinidata  telis, 
Queis  gaudet  labyrinthseos  dea  callida  nodes, 
wlpicias  jam  funereo  gradientem  incellu — 
Quam  lentf;  cxlo  Saturni  volvitur  aftruni, 
Quam  lehte  faltaverunt  poft  Orphea  montes, 
Quam  lente,  Oxonii,  folemnis  ponder^  cznae. 
Geftant  tergeminorum  abdomina  bedellorum. 

Proxima  deinde  tenet  loca  forte  infana  Mathefis, 
Nuda  pedes,    chlamydem  difcindta,  incompta  ca- 

pillos. 

Immemor  extern!,  pundtoque  innixa  reclinat. 
Ante  pedes  vario  inicriptam  diagrammate  arenam 
Cernas,  redtis  curva,  atque  intertexta  rotunda 
bhemata  quadratis— queis  fcilicet  abdita  rerum 
Pandere  fe  jaclat  folam,  dodlafque  forores 
Faftidit,  proprixquc  nihil  non  arrogat  arti. 
Illam  olim,  duce  Nentono,  turn  tendit  ad  aftra, 
jEtheriafque  domos  fuperum,  indignata  volantem 
Turba  mathematiciim  retrahit,  pcenafque  repofcens 
Detenit  in  tcrris,  nugifque  exercet  ineptis. 

Tertia  Microphile,  proles  furtiva  parenis 
Divinse  ;  produxit  enim  commixta  furenti 
Diva  viro  phyiice — mufcas  et  papiliones 
Luftrat  inespletum,  collvtmque  et  tempora  rident 
Floribus,  et  fungis,  totaque  propagine  veris. 
Rara  oculis  nugarum  avidis  animaUa  qnxrit 
Omne  genus,  feu  ferpit  humi,  feu  ludit  in  undis, 
Seu  volitans  tremulis  liquidum  fecat  ac'ra  pennis. 
O  !  ubi  litoribus  noftris  felicior  aura 
Polypon  appulerit,  quanto  cava  templa  ftuporis 
Mugitu  concufla  trement,  reboabit  ct  ingcas 


POEMS. 


IS? 


Pulfa  palus  !  Plaufa  excipiet  dea  blanda  fecunda 
Microphile  ante  omnes ;  jam  non  crocodilon  ado- 
rat  ;  [det, 
Non  bombyx,  conchatve  juvant :  fed  Polypon  ar- 
Solum  Folypon  ardet, — et  ecce  !  faceta  feraci 
Fake  novos  crcat  afildue,  palcitque  creates, 
Ah  !  modo  dilectis  pafcit  nova  guadia  mufcis. 

Qiiartam  materies  peperit  conjuncta  flupori, 
Nomen  Atheia  illi,  monftrum  cui  lumen  ademp- 

tum, 

Atque  aures ;  cui  fenfus  abeft ;  fed  mille  trifulcx 
Ore  micant  lingux,  refugas  quibus  inficit  auras. 
Hanc  ftupor  ipfe  parens  odit,  vicina  nefandos- 
Horret  fylva  fonos,  neque  furda  repercutit  echo. 
Mendacem  natura  redarguit  ipfa,  demque 
F.t  coslum,  et  ttrrse,  veraciaque  aftra  fatentur. 
Si  fimul  agglomerans  furgit  chorus  omnis  aqua- 
rum, 

Et  puro  iublime  fonat  grave  fulmen  olympo. 
Fonte  ortus  Letnreo,  ipfius  ad  oftia  templi, 
Ire  foporifero  tendit  cum  murmure  rivus, 
Hue  potum  flolidos  Deus  evocat  agmine  magno  : 
C.  rebri  adlunt,  largifque  fitim  reftinguere  gaudent 
Hauftibus,  atque  iterant  calices,  certantque  ftupen- 
do.  [aurem 

Me,  me  etiam,   clamo,  occurrens  ; — fed   vellicat 
Calliope,  nocuafque  vetat  cc-ntingere  lymphas. 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  DULNESS. 

IN  Ireland's  wild,  uncultivated  plains, 
Where  torpid  floth,  and  foggy  dulnefs  reigns, 
1'U  11  many  a  fen  infefts  the  putrid  fhore, 
And  many  a  gulf  the  melancholy  moor. 
Let  not  the  ftrangcr  in  thefe  regions  ftray, 
Dark  is  the  iky,  and  perilous  the  way ; 
Beneath   his   footfteps    fhakcs    the    trembling 

ground, 

Denfe  fogs  and  exhalations  hover  round, 
And  with  black  clouds  the  tender  turf  is  crown'd. 

Here  fliould'fl.  thou  rove,  by  fate's  fevere  com- 
And  fafely  reach  the  centre«of  the  land  ;      [maml 
Thine  eyes  fhall  view,  with  horror  and  furprife,' 
The  fane  of  dulnefs,  of  enormous  fize, 
Emerging  from  the  fable  cloud  arife. 
A.  leaden  tow'r  upheaves  its  heavy  head, 
Vaft  leaden  arches  prefs  the  {limy  bed, 
The  foft  foil  fwells  beneath  the  load  of  lead. 
Old  matter  here  erected  his  abode, 
At  folly's  impulfe,to  the  flothful  god. 
And  here  the  drone  lethargic  loves  to  ftray, 
Slumb'ring  the  dull,  inactive  hours  away  ; 
For  ftill,  unlefs  by  foreign  force  impreft, 
The  languid  goddefs  holds  her  ftate  of  reft. 

Their  habitation  here  thofe  monfters  keep, 
Whom  matter  father'd  on  the  god  of  fleep : 
Here  Zoilus,  with  cank'ring  envy  pale, 
Here  Mxvius  bids  his  brother  Bavius,  hail ; 
Spinoza,  Epicure,  and  all  thofe  mobs 
Of  wicked  wits,  from  Pyrrho  down  to  Hobbes. 
How  can  the  mufc  recount  the  numerous  crew 
Of  frequent  fools  that  crowd  upon  the  view  ? 
Nor  can  learn'd  Albion's  fun  that  burns  fo  clear, 
Difperfe  the  dulnefs  that  involves  them  here. 
Uceotia  thus  remain'd,  in  days  of  yore 
Senfelefs  and  ftupid,  through  the  neighb'ring  { 
fliore,  | 

Afforded  falutary  hclkbore. 


,1 


cure  cxhal'd  from  zephyr's  butom  breeze, 
'hat  gently  brufh'd  the  bofom  of  the  feas, 
As  oft  to  Lcfbian  fields  he  wing'd  his  way, 
Banning  fair  Flora,  and  in  airy  play 
Breath'd  balmy  fighs,  that  melt  the  foul  away. 
Behold  that  portico  !  how  vaft,  how  wide  ! 
The  pillars  Gothic,  wrought  with  barb'rous  pride: 
7our  monftrous  fhapes  before  the  portal  wait, 
)f  horrid  afpect,  fentry  to  the  gate  ; 
1,0  !  in  the  entrance,  with  difdainful  eye, 
n  logic's  dark  difguife,  ftands  fophiflry; 
rler  very  front  would  common  i'enfe  confound, 
Sncompafs'd  with  ten  categories  round  : 
She  from  old  matter,  the  great  mother,  came, 
By  birth  the  eldeit — and  how  like  the  dame  ! 
HIer  fhrivell'd  flcin,  fmall  eyes,  prodigious  pate, 
Denote  her  fhrewd,  and  fubtle  in  debate : 
This  hand  a  net,  and  that  fuftains  a  club, 
T'  entangle  her  antagonist,  or  drub. 
The  fpider's  toils,  all  o'er  her1  garment  fpread, 
Imply  the  mazy  errors  of  her  head. 
Behold  her  marching  with  funereal  pace, 
Slow  as  old  Saturn  rolls  through  bonndle/s  fpacs, 
Slow  as  the  mighty  mountains  mov'd  along, 
When  Orpheus  rais'd  the  lyre-attanding  fong : 
Or,  as  at  Oxford,  on  fome  gaudy  day, 
Fat  beadles  in  magnificent  array, 
With  big  round  bellies  bear  the  pond'rous  treat, 
And  heavily  lag  on,  with  the  'vaft  load  of  meat. 

The  next,  mad  Mathelis ;  her  feet  all  bare, 
Ungirt  untritnm'd,  with  diflbluted  hair:  • 
No  foreign  objects  can  her  thoughts  disjoint ; 
Reclin'd  fhe  fits,  and  ponders  o'er  a  point. 
Before  her,  lo  !  infcrib'd  upon  the  ground,         "1 
Strange  diagrams,  th"  aftonifh'd  fight  confound,  £ 
Right  lines  and  curves,  with  figures  fquare  and  f 
round.  J 

With  thefe  the  monfter,  arrogant  and  vain,        "1 
Boafts  that  {he  can  all  myfterie<s  explain, 
And  treats  the  facred  fillers  with  difdain.  3 

She,   when  great   Newton   fought    his  kindred 

Ikies, 

Sprung  high  in  air,  and  ftrove  with  him  to  rife, 
In  vain — the  mathematic  mob  reflrains 
Her  flight,  indignant,  and  on  earth  detains; 
E'er  fince  the  captive  wretch  her  brains  employs 
On  trifling  trinkets,  and  on  gewgaw  toys. 

Microphile  is  ftation'd  next  in  place, 
The  fpurious  iffue  of  celeflial  race  ; 
From  heav'nly  Phyfice  fhe  took  her  birth, 
Her  fire  a  madman  of  the  fons  of  earth ; 
On  flies  fhe  pores  with  keen  unvaried  fight, 
And  moths  and  butterflies,  her  dear  delight : 
Mulhrooms  and  flow'rs,  collected  on  a  uring,  ^ 
Around  her  neck,  around  her  temples  cling,        > 
With  all  the  ftrange  production  of  the  fpring.     J 
With  greedy  eyes  fhc'll  fearch  the  world  to  find 
Rare,  uncouth  animals  of  every  kind ; 
Whether  along  the  humble  ground  they  ftray, 
Or  nimbly  fportive  in  the  waters  play, 
Or  through  the  light  expanfe  of  ether  fly. 
And  with  fleet  pinions  cleave  the  liquid  (ky. 
Ye  gales,  that  gently  breathe  upon  our  fliore, 
O  !  let  the  Polypus  be  wafted  o'er; 
How  will  the  hollow  dome  of  dulnefs  ring, 
With  what  loud  joy  receive  the  wond'rous  thing? 
Applaufe  will  rend  the  Ikies,  and  all  around 
Tne  quivering  quagmires  bellow  buck  the  found  5 


THE   WORKS   OF   SMART. 


How  will  Microphile  her  joy  atteft, 

And  glow  with  warmer  raptures  than  the  reft  ? 

This  will  the  curious  crocodile  excel, 

The  weaving  worm,  and  filver-fhining  fhell;   . 

No  object  e'er  will  wake  her  wonder  thus, 

As  Polypus,  her  darling  Polypus. 

Lo!  by  the  wounds  of  her  creating-  knife 

New  Polypuffes  wriggle  into  life, 

Faft  as  they  rife,  fhe  feeds  with  ample  ftore 

Of  once  rare  flies,  but  now  efteem'd  no  more.  • 

The  fourth  dire  fhape  from  mother  matter  came, 
Dulnefs  her  fire,  and  Atheifm  her  name ; 
In  her  ho  glimpfe  of  facrecl  fenfe  appears, 
Depriv'd  of  eyes,  and  deftitute  of  ears  ; 
And  yet  fhe  brandifhes  a  thoufand  tongues, 
And  blafts  the  world  with  air-infecting  lungs. 
Curs'd  by  her  fire,  her  very  words  are  wounds, 
No  grove  re-echoes  the  detefted  founds. 
Whate'er  fhe  fpeaks,  all  nature  proves  a  lie, 
The  earth,  the  heav'ns,  the  ftarry  fpaugled  flcy 
Proclaim  the  wife  eternal  Deity : 
The  congregated  waves  in  mountains  driven 
Roar  in  grand  chorus  to  the  Lord  of  heaven. 
Through  fkiesferene  the  glorious  thunders  roll, 
Loudly  pronounce  the  god,  and  fhake  the  founding 
pole. 

A  river,  murmuring  from  Lethasan  fourte, 
Full  to  the  fane  directs  its  flcepy  courfe ; 
The  pow'r  of  dulnefs  leaning  on  the  brink, 
Here  calls  the  multitude  of  fools  to  drink. 
Swarming  they  crowd  to  ftupify  the  fkull. 
With  frequent  cups  contending  to  be  dull. 
Me,  let  me  tafte  the  facred  ftream,  I  cry'd,         ~) 
With  out-ftretch'd  arm — the  mufe  my  boon  de-  f 
ny'd  (" 

And  fav'd  me  from  the  fenfe  intoxicating  tide.  J 

MUTUA  OCITATIONUM  PROPAGATIO 
SQLVI  POTEST  MECHANIC  E. 


s,  fcurra,  procax  fuperum,  quo  tempore 

Pallas 

Exiluit  cerebro  Jovis,  eft  pso  more  jocatns 
Nefcio  quid  ftuhum  dc  partu  :  excanduit  ira 
Jupiter,  afper,  acerba  tuens ;  "  et  fu  quoque,  dixit, 
"  Garrule,  concipies,  faetumq.  ex  ore  profundes:" 
Haudmora,jamquefupinusinaulaextendituringens 
Derifor;  dubia  velantur  luminanocte; 
titeitit  hians  immane;— e  nafoGallica  clangunt 
Claffica,  Germaniq.  Cmul  fermonis  amaror : 

Edita  vix  tandem  eft  monftrum  Polychafmia, 

proles  . 

,Tanto  digna  parente,  avi.-eq.  fimilima  nocth 
Illa'oculos  tentat  nequicquam  aperire,veterno 
Torpida,  et  horrendo  vultum  diftorta  cachinno. 
JEmulus  hanc  Juvis  afpiciens,  qui  fidile  vulgus 
Fecerat  infelix,  imitariet  are  Prometheus 
Audet — nee  flammis  opus  eft  cceleftibus :  auras 
Tres  Stygioe  flatus,  nigrx  tria  pocula  Lethes 
Mifcet,  et  innuptze  fufpiria  longa  puellx  ! 
His  adipcm  fuis  et  guttur  conjungit  afelli, 
Tenfaque  cum  gemitu  fomnifque  fequacibus  ora. 
Sic  etiam  in  terris  dea,  qure  mortalibus  xgris 
Ferret  opem,  inque  hebetes  dominarier  apta,  cre- 

ata  eft. 

Nonne  vides,  ut  praecipiti  petit  oppida  cnrfu 
iluftica  pkbs,  ftipatque  forum  ?  fublime  tribunal 
Armigerique  eqnitefque  premunt,  de  more  parati 
TuftitiK  lance*  profcrre  fideli: 


Grande  capillitium  induti,  frontemque  minacettl 
Non  temere  at^oniti  caupones,  turbaque  furum 
Aufugiunt,  gravidasque  timent  trucia  ora  puellae. 
At  mox  fida  comes  Polychafmia,  matutinis 
Q\ix  fe  mifcuerat  poc'lis  cerealibus,  ipfum 
Judicis  in  cerebrum  fcandit — jamque  unus  et  alter 
Cseperunt  lougas  in  hiatum  ducere  voces : 
Donee  per  cunctos  dea  jam  folenne,  profundum 
Sparferit  hum — nutant  taciti,  turn  brachia  magno 
Extendur.t  nifu,  patulis  et  faucibus  hifcunt. 
Interea  legum  caupones  jurgia  mifcent, 
Queis  nil  rhetorics  eft,  nifi  copia  major  hiandi : 
Vocibus  ambiguis  certant,  nugafque  ftrqphafque 
Alternis  jaculantur,  et  irafcuntur  amice, 
Donantque  accipiuntque  ftuporis  miffile  plumbum. 

Vox,  fanatica  turba,  nequit  pia  mufa  tacere. 
Majoremme  aliunde  poteft  diducere  riclum.  ? 
Afcendit  gravis  orator,  miferaque  loquela 
Extromit  thefm ;  in  partes  quam  deinde  minutas 
Diftrahit,  ut  connectat,  et  explicat  obfcurrando  : 
Spargitur  heu!  pigris  verborum  fomnus  ab  alls, 
Grex  circum  genit,  et  plaufum  declarat  hiando. 

Nee  vos,  qui  falf 6  matrem  jaclat is  hygeian 
Patremque  Hippocratem,  taceam— -Polychafmia, 

veftros 

Agnofco  natos  :  tumidas  fine  pondere  voces 
In  vulgum  eructant ;  emuncto  quifque  bacillum 
Applkat  auratum  nafo,  graviterque  facetus 
Totum  fe  in  vultum  cogit,  medicamina  pandens— 
Rufticus  haurit  amara,  atque  infanabile  dormit ; 
Nee  fenfus  revocare  queant  fomenta,  nee  herbsfe, 
Ncn  ars,  non  miise  magicus  fonus  Abracadabra. 

Ante  alios  fumma  es,  Polychafmia,  cura  Sopifta : 
llle  tui  cxcas  vires,  caufamque  latentem 
Sedulus  exquirit' — quo  fcilicet  impete  fauces 
Invitae  disjungantur;  quo  vortice  aquofx      [bres, 
Particuke  fluitent,  commitefque,  ut  fulminis  inv- 
Cum  ftrepitu  erumpant ;  ut  deinde  vaporet  ocellos 
Materies  fubtilis ;  ut  in  cutis  infinuc t  fe 
Retia  ;  turn,  fi  forte  datur  contingere  nervos 
Concordes,  cundorum  ora  expanduntur  hiulca. 
S»c  ubi,  Pho;be  pater,  fumis  chelyn,  harmoniamque 
Abftrufam  in  chordis  fimul  elicis,  altera,  fiquam    - 
^Equalis  tenor  aptavit,  tremit  asmula  cantus, 
Memmoniamque  imitata  lyrum  fine  pollicis  ictu 
Divinum  refonat  proprio  modulamine  carmen. 

Me  quoque,  mene  tuum  tetigifti,  ingfata,  po- 

etam  ? 

Hei  mihi !  totus  hio  tibi  jam  ftupefadtus  ;  in  ipfo 
Parnaffo  captuslonge  longeque  remotas 
Profpecto  mufas,  fitioque,  ut  Tantalus  alter, 
Caftalias  fitus  inter  aquas,  inhiantis  ab  ore 
Nectarei  fugiunt  latices— hos  Popius  urna 
Excipit  undanti,  et  fontem  fibi  vendicat  omnem. 

Haud  aliter  focium  efuriens  Sjzator  edacem 
Dum  videt,  appofitufque  cibus  fruftratur  hiantem,, 
Dentibus  infrendens  nequicquam  lumine  torvo 
Sxpius  exprobrat ;  nequicquam  brachia  tendit 
Sedulus  officiofa,  dapes  removere  paratus. 
Olli  nunquam  excmpta  fames,  quin  fruftra  fuprema 
Devoret,  et  peritura  immani  ingurgitet  ore : 
Turn  demum  jubet  auferri;  nudata  capaci 
Offa  fonant,  lugubre  fonant,  allifa  catino. 

A  MECHANICAL  SOLUTION  OF  THE 
PROPAGATION  OF  YAWNING. 

WHEN  Pallas  iffued  from  the  brain  of  Jove, 
Momus,  the  mimic  of  the  gods  above. 


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Irtnis  mock  mood  impertinently  fpoke 

About  the  birth,  fome  low,  ridiculous  joke : 

Jove,  dernly  frowning,  glow'd  with  vengeful  ire, 

And  thus  indignant  faid  th'  almighty  fire  : 

"  Loquacious  (lave,  thatlaugh'd  without  a  caufe, 

**  Thou  (halt  conceive,  and  bring  forth  at  thy 

"  jaws." 

He  fpoke — dretrh'd  in  the  hall  the  minaic  lies, 
Supinely  dull,  thick  vapours  dim  his  eyes: 
And  as  his  jaws  a  horrid  chafm  difclofe, 
It  feem'd  he  made  a  trumpet  of  his  nofe  ; 
Though  harfli  the  drain,  and  horrible  to  hear, 
Like  German  jargon  grating  on  the  ear. 

At  length  was  Polychafmia  brought  to  li 
Worthy  her  fire,  a  monder  of  a  fight, 
Refembling  her  great  grandmother,  old  ni 
Her  eyes  to  open  oft  in  vain  (he  try'd, 
Lock'd  were  the  lids,  her  mouth  didended  wide. 
Her  when  Prometheus  happen'd  to  furvey 
(Rival  of  Jove,  that  made  mankind  of  clay) 
He  form'd  without  the  aid  of  heav'nly  ray 
To  three  Lethsean  cups  he  learnt  to  mix 
Deep  fighs  of  virgins,  with  three  blads  from  Styx, 
The  bray  of  afles,  with  the  fat  of  brawn, 
The  fleep  preceding  groan,  and  hideous  yawn. 
Thus  Polychafmia  took  her  wond'rous  birtk, 
A  goddefs  helpful  to  the  fons  of  earth. 

Lo  !  how  the  rudic  multitude  from  far 
Hade  to  the  town,  and  crowd  the  clam'rous  bar. 
The  pred  bench  groans  with  many  a  'fquire  and 

knight, 

Who  weigh  out  judice,  and  didribute  right:    , 
Severe  they  feem,  and  formidably  big, 
With  front  important,  and  huge  periwig. 
The  little  villains  (kulk  aloof  difmay'd, 
And  panic  terrors  feize  the  pregnant  maid. 
But  foon  friend  Polychafm',  who  always  near, 
Herfelf  had  mingled  with  their  morning  beer, 
Steals  to  the  judges  brain,  and  centres  there. 
Then  in  the  court  the  horrid  yawn  began,  • 
And  hum  profound  and  folemn,  went  from  man  to 

man : 

Silent  they  nod,  and  with  prodigious  drain 
Stretch"  out  their  arms,  then  lidlefs  yawn  again ; 
F*jr  all  the  flow'rs  of  rhetoric  they  can  boaft 
Amidd  their  wranglings,  is  to  gape  the  mod  : 
Ambiguous  quirks,  and  friendly  wrath  they  vent, 
And  give  and  take  the  leaden  argument. 

Ye  too,  fanatics,  never  fliall  efcape 
The  faithful  mufe  ;  for  who  fo  greatly  gape  ? 
Mounted  on  high,  with  ferious  care  perplex'd, 
The  miferable  preacher  takes  his  text ; 
Then  into  parts  minute,  with  wond'rous  pain, 
Divides,  connects,  and  then  divides  again, 
And  does  with  grave  obfcurity  explain : 
While  from  his  lips  lean  periods  ling'ring  creep, 
And  not  one  meaning  interrupts  their  fleep. 
The  drowfy  bearers  dretch  their  weary  jaws 
With  lamentable  groans',  and,  yawning,  gape  ap- 

plaufe. 

The  quacks  of  phyfic  next  provoke*  my  ire, 
Who  falfely  boad  Hippocrates  their  fire  : 
Goddefs!  thy  fons  I  ken— -verbofe  and  loud, 
They  puff  their  windy  bubble  on  the  crowd; 
With  Io6k  important,  critical,  and  vain, 
Each  to  his  nofe  applies  the  gilded  cane ; 
And  as  he  no'ds  and  ponders  o'er  the  cafe, 
Gravely  cpllect*  himiW  into  his  face, 


Explains  h:s  med'cines — wtiich  the  niftfc  buy*, 
Drinks  the  dire  draught,  and  of  the  doctor  dies ; 
No  pills,  no  potions  can  to  life  redore-; 
Abracadabra,  necromantic  pow'r 
Can  charm,  and  conjure  up  from  death  no  more. 

But  more  than  aught  that's  marvellous  and  rare, 
The  dudious  Soph  makes.  Polychafm'  his  care ; 
Explores  what  fecret  fpring,  what  hidden  caufe, 
Didends  with  hideous  chal'ra  th*  unwilling  jaws, 
What  latent  ducts  the  dewy  moidure  pour 
With  found  tremendous,  likr.  a  thunder-fhow'r : 
How  fubtle  matter,  exquifitely  thin, 
Pervades  the  curious  net-work  of  the  (kin, 
Affects  th'  accordant  nerve— all  eyes  are  drown'd 
In  drowfy  vapours,  and  the  yawn  goes  round. 
When  Phoebus  thus  his  flying  fingers  flings 
Acrofs-  the   chords,   and    fweeps  the  trembling 

firings ; 

If  e'er  a  lyre  at  unifon  there  be, 
It  fwells  with  emulating  harmony, 
Like  Memnon's  harp,  in  ancient  time?  renown'd, 
Breathing,  untouch'd,  fweet-modulated  found. 

But  oh  !  ungrateful !  to  thy  own  true  bard, 
Oh,  Polychafm',  is  this  my  jult  reward  ? 
Thy  drowfy  dews  upon  my  head  didil, 
Jud  at  the  entrance  of  th'  Aonian  hill ; 
Lidlefs  I  gape,  unactive,  and  lupine, 
And  at  vaddidance  view  the  facred  nine; 
Widful  I  view — the  dreams  incfeale  my  third, 
In  vain — like  Tantalus,  with  plenty  curft ; 
No  draughts  nectareous  to  my  portion  fall, 
Thefe  godlike  Pope  exhauds,  and  greatly  claims 
them  all. 

Thus  the  lean  Siaar  views,  with  gaze  aghad, 
The  hungry  tutor  at  his  noon's  repad ; 
In  vain  he  grinds  his  teeth — his  grudging  eye, 
And  vifage  (harp,  keen  appetite  imply ; 
Oft  he  attempts,  officious,  to  convey 
The  leflening  relics  of  the  meal  away-- 
In  vain — no  morfel  'fcapes  the  greedy  jaw, 
All,  all  is  gorg'd  in  magiderial  maw ; 
Till  at  the  lad,  obfervant  of  his  word, 
The  lamentable  waiter  clears  the  board, 
And  inly-murmuring  miferably  groans. 
To  fee  the  empty  difli,  and  hear  the  founding 
bones. 

THK 

HORATJAN  CANONS  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 
(«)  Nay,  'tis  the  fame  with  all  th'  affected  crew 
Of  finging  men,  and  finging  women  too : 
Do  they  not  fet  their  catcalls  up  af  coarfe  ? 
The  king  himfelf  may  aik  them  till  he's  hoarfe  J 
But  would  you  crack  their  windpipes  and  their 

lungs. 
The  certain  way's  to  bid  them  hold  their  tongues. 


(a)  Omnibus  hoc  vitiutn  eft  cantoribus,  inter 

araicos 

Ut  mjnquam  inducant  animum  cantare  rogati  i 
Injuffi  nunquam  defiftant.    Sardus  habebat 
llle  Tigellius  hoc.  Ctelar,  qui  cogere  pofler, 
Si  peteret  per  aioicitiam  patris  atque  fuam,  non  . 
Quidquam  proficeret :  fi  collibuiflet,  ab  ovo 
pfque  ad  mala  citatet,  lo  Bacche  !  modo  futoma 
Voc«,  [m«do  hac  refonat  HIIC  chordis  quatuor  un. 


THEWORKS    OF   SMART. 


/,"• 


'Twas  thus    with    MImim — Mimim   one   would 

tliink, 

My  lord  mayor  might  have  govern'd  u-ith  a  wink. 
Yet  did  the  magillrate  e'er  condefeend 
To  afk  a  fong,  as  kinfman  or  as  friend, 
The  urchin  coin'd  excufes  to  get  off, 
'Twas — hem— the  devil  take  this  whorefon  cough. 
But  wait  awhile,  and  catch  him  in  the  glee, 
He'd  roar  the  *  the  lion  in  the  lowed  key, 
Or  ftrainthe  f  Morning  Lark  quite  up  to  G- 
A&  Beard,  or  Lowe,  and  fliow  his  tuneful  art 
From  the  plumb-pudding  down  to  the  defert. 
(3)  Never  on  earth  was  fuch  a  various  elf, 
He  every  day  poffefs'd  a  different  felt'; 
Sometimes  he'd  fcour  along  the  ftreets  like  wind, 
As  if  fonie  fifty  bailiffs  were  behind; 
At  other  times  he'd  fadly,  faunt'ring  craw!, 
As  though  he  led  the  herfe,  or  held  the.fable  pall. 
(*•)  Now  for  promotion  he  was  all  on  flame. 
And  ev'ry  fentence  from  St.  James's  came. 
He'd  brag  how  Sir  John  ****  met  him  in  the 

Strand,  [hand ; 

And  how  his  Grace  of  *****  took  him    by  the 
How  the  prince  faw  him  at  the  la  ft  review, 
And  afk'd  who  was  that  pretty  youth  in  blue  ? 
Now  would  he  praife  the  peaceful  fyivaii  Irene, 
The  healthful  cottage,  arid  the  golden  mean. 
Now  would  he  cry,  contented  let  me  dwell 
Safe  in  the  harbour  of  my  college  cell  ; 
No  foreign  cooks,  nor  livry'd  fervants  nigh, 
Let  me  with  comfort  eat  my  mutton-pye  ; 
While  my  pint-bottle,  op'd  by  help  of  fork, 
With  wine  enough  to  navigate  a  cork* 
My  fober  folitary  meal  lhall  crown,  [down. 

To  ftudy  edge  the   mind,  anil  drive  the  vapours 
Yet,  ftrange  to  tell,  this  wond'rous  {Indent  lay 
Snoring  in  bed  for  ail  the  livelong  day  ; 
Night  was  his  time  far  labour— -in  a  word, 
Never  was  man  fo  cleverly  abfurd. 
(rf)  But  here  a  friend  of  mine  turns  up  his  nofe, 
And  you  (he  cries)  are  perfect,  I  fuppofe  : 


(i)  Nil  cequale  homini  fuit  illi :  fsepe  velut  qui 
Currebat  fugiens  hoftem  :  perfajue  velut  qui 
Junonis  facra  ferret.     Habebat  faspe  ducentos, 
Saepe  decem  ferves :   modo  reges,  atque  tetrarchas. 

(<•)  Omnia  magna  loquens.  Modo,  fit  mihi  men- 
fa  tripes,  et 

Concha  falis  puri,  et  toga,  quae  defemlere  frigus, 
Quamvis  crafl'i,  queat,  deoies  centena  dedifles 
Huic  parco  paucis  conrento  :  quinque  diebus 
Nil.erat  in  loculis,  nocles  vigilabat  ad  ipfum 
Mane  :  diem  totnm  ftertebat,  nil  fuit  unquam 
Sic  impar  fibi,  nunc  aliquis  dicat  mihi :  quid  tu  ? 

(</)  Nullane  habes  vita  ?  immo  alia,  et  fortafie 

minora. 

Mznius  abfentem  novium  cum  carperet  r  ieus  tu, 
Cviidarn  ait,  ignoras  te  ?  an  ut  ignotum  dare  nobis 
Verba  putas  ?  egomet  mi  ignofco,  Misnius  inquit. 
Stultus,  et  improbus  hie  afnor  eft,  dignofque  notari. 
Cum  tua  pervideas  oculis  :nala  lippus  inunclis, 
Car  in  amicorum  vitiis  tarn  cernis  acutiun. 

*  The  Lion's  So?7g,  in  Pyratnns  mid  Tbijbr. 
\  A  fong  in  one  of  Mr.  Handel's  oratorios. 


Perfect  !  not  I  (pray,  gentle  Sir,  forbear) 

In  this  good  age,  when  vices  are  fo  rare, 

I  plead  humanity,  and  claim  my  fliare. 

Who  has  not  faults  ?   great  Marlborough  had  one. 

Nor  Chefterfield  is  f  pot  lei's,  nor  the  fun. 

Grubworm  was  railing  at  his  friend  Tom  Queer, 

When  Witwoud  tlrus  reproach'd  him  with  a  fneer, 

Have  you  no  flaws,  who  are  fo  prone  to  fnub, 

I  have — but  I  forgive  nsyfelf,  quoth  Grub. 

This  is  a  fervile  felfifhnefs,  a  fault 

Whieh  juftice  fcarce  can  punifli,  as  fhe  ought. 

Blind  as  a  poking,  dirt-compelling  mole, 

To  all  that  ftains  thy  own  polluted  foul, 

Yet  each  fmall  failing  fpy'ft  in  other  men, 

Spy'ft  with  the  quicknefs  of  an  eagle's  ken. 

Though  ftrong  refentment  rarely  lag  behind, 

And  all  thy  virulence  be  paid  in  kind. 

(e)  Philander's  temper's  violent,  nor  fits 

The  wond'rous  waggifhnefs  of  modern  wits; 

His  cap's  awry,  all  ragged  is  his  gown, 

And  (wicked  rogue) '.  he  wears  his  ftockings  down ; 

But  he's  a  foul  ingenious  as  his  face, 

To  you  a  friend,  and  all  the  human  race  ; 

Genius,  that  all  the  depths  of  learning  founds, 

And  generality,  that  knows  no  bounds. 

In  fruits  like  thefe  if  the  good  youth  excel, 

Let  them  compenfate  for  the  awkward  {hell. 

Sift  then  yonrfelf,  1  fay,  and  lift  again, 

Glean  the  pernicious  tares  fiom  out  the  grain ; 

And  afk  thy  heart  if  cuftom,  nature's  heir, 

Hath  fown  no  undifcover'd  fern-feed  there. 

This  be  our  ftandard  then,  on  this  we  reft, 

Nor  fearch  the  cafuifts  for  another  teft. 

(/)  Let's  be  like  lover's  glorioufly  deceiv'd, 

And  each  good  man  a  better  Itill  believ'd  ; 

Ojiam  aut  aquila,  aut  ferpens  epidaurius  ?  at  tibi 

contra 
Evenit,  inquirant  vitia  ut  tua  rurfus  et  illi. 

(e}  Iracundior  eit  paullo?  minus  aptus  acutis 
Naribus  horum  hominum  ?  rideri  puffit,  eo  quod 
Rufticius  tonlb  toga  defluit,  et  male  laxus 
In  pede  calceus  hteret,  at  eft  bonus,  ut  melior  vir 
Non  alius  quifquaui :  at  tibi  amicus :  at  ingenium 

ingens 

Inculto  latet  hoc  fub  corpore,  denique  teipfum 
Concute,  num  qua  tibi  vitiorum  inleverit  olim 
Natura,  aut  etiam  confuetudo  mala,  namque 
Negleclis  urenda  filix  innafcitur  agris. 

(yj  Illuc  praevertamur :  amatorem  quod  arnicas 
Turpia  decipiunt  cjecum  vitia,  aut  etiam  ipfa  haec 
Deledlatit:  veluti  Balbinum  polypus  Agns  : 
Vellem  in  amicitia  (ic  erarimus;  et  ifti 
Errori  nomen  virtus  pofuiflet  honeftum. 
At,  pater  ut  nati,  fie  nos  debemus  amici, 
Si  quod  fit  vitium,  lion  faftidire,  ftrabonem 
Appellat  psetum  pater:  et  pulium,  male  parvur 
Si  cui  filius  eft  :  ut  abortivus  fuit  olim 
Sifyphus,  hunc  varum,  diltortis  cruribus,  ilium 
Balbutit  fcaurum,  pravis  fulturo  male  talis. 
Parcius  hie  vivit  ?  frugi  dicatur  ineptus, 
Et  jaclantior  hie  paulio  eft  ?  concinnus  amicis 
Poftulat  ut  videattir.  at  eft  turculentior,  atque 
Plus  ccquo  liber  ?  fimples,  fovtifque  habeatur, 
Caldior  eil  ?  acres  inter  numeretur.  opinor, 
Hrec  ves  et  jurgit,  junctoset  fervat  amicoa. 


POEMS. 


E'en  Celia's  wart  Strephon  will  not  neglect, 
Eut  prailcs,  kiffes,  loves  the  dear  defect. 
Oh  !  that  in  friendfhip  we  were  thus  to  blame,  "^ 
And  ermin'd  candour,  tender  of  our  fame,         I 
Would  clothe  the  honeft  error  with  an  honeft  f 
name !  3 

Be  we  then  ftill  to  thofe  we  hold  moft  dear, 
Fatherly  fond,  and  tenderly  fevere. 
The  fire,  whofe  fon  fquints  forty  thoufand  ways, 
Finds  in  his  features  mighty  room  for  praife  : 
Ah !  born  (he  cries)  to  make  the  ladies  figh, 
Jacky,  thou  haft  an  am'rous  caft  o'  the  eye. 
Another's  child's  abortive — he  believes 
Nature  moft  perfect  in  diminutives ; 
And  men  of  ev'ry  rank,  with  one  accord   ' 
Salute  each  crooked  rafcal  with  my  lord. 
(For  bandy  legs,  humph-back,  and  knocking  knee, 

Are  all  exceflive  figns  of  Q^ ty. ) 

Thus  let  us  judge  our  friends — if  Scrub  fubfift 
Too  meanly,  Scrub  is  an  economift ; 
And  if  Tom  Tinkle  is  full  loud  and  pert, 
He  aims  at  wit,  and  does  it  to  divert. 
Largus  is  apt  to  blufter,but  you'll  find 
'Tis  owing  to  his  magnitude  of  mind ; 
Lollius  is  pafiionate,  and  loves  a  whore, 
Spirit  and  conftitution !— nothing  more- 
Ned  to  a  bullying  peer  is  ty'd  for  life, 
And  in  commendam  holds  a  fcolding  wife  ; 
-Slave  to  a  fool's  caprice,  and  woman's  will ; 
But  patience,  patience  is  a  virtue  ftill ! 
Afk  of  Chamont  a  kingdom  for  a  fifh, 
He'll  give  you  three  rather  than  fpoil  a  difh; 
Nor  pride  nor  luxury  is  in  the  cafe, 
But  holpitality— an't  pleafe  your  grace. 
Should  a  great  gen'ral  give  a  drab  a  penfion— 
Meannefs  ! — the  devil — 'tis  perfect  condefcenfion, 
Such  way  smake  many  friends,  and  make  friends  long 
Or  elfe  my  good  friend  Horace  reafons  wrong, 
(g)  But  we  alas !  e'en  virtuous  deeds  invert, 
And  into  vice  mifconftrue  all  defert. 
See  we  a  man  of  modefty  and  merit, 
Sober  and  meek — we  fwear  he  has  no  fpirit ; 
We  call  him  ftupid,  who  with  caution  breaks 
His  filence,  and  will  think  before  he  fpeaks. 
Fidelio  treads  the  path  of  life  with  care, 
And  eyes  his  footfteps ;  for  he  fears  a  fnare. 
..   His  wary  way  ftill  fcandal  mifapplies, 
And  calls  him  fubtle,  who's  no  more  than  wife. 
Jf  any  man  is  unconftr  in'd  and  free, 
As  oft,  my  Laelius,  I  have  been  to  thee, 
^   When  rudely  to  thy  room  I  chance  to  fcour, 
And  interrupt  thee  in  the  ftudious  hour  ; 
From  Coke  and  Lyttleton  thy  mind  unbend, 
With  more  familiar  nonfenfe  of  a  friend; 
Talk  of  my  friendfhip,  and  of  thy  defert, 
Show  thee  my  works,  and  candidly  impart 
At  once  the  product  of  my  head  and  heart, 


(jr)  At  vos  virtutes  ipfas  invertimus,  atque 
Sincerum  cupimus  vas  ircruftare.     Probus  quis 
NoV.ifcum  vivit  ?  mnltum  eft  demifus  homo,  illi 
Tardo,  cognomen  pinpm  damus.  hicfugit  omnes 
Infidizis  nullique  male  latus  obdit  aperrum  ? 
(Cvini  genus  hoc  inter  vita  verfetur,  ubi  arris 
Invidia,  atqne  vigent  ubi  crimini)  pro  bene  fano, 
Ac  non  incauio,  fictum  aftur  unique  vocamus. 
Cimplicior,  quis,  qualem  me  1'aepe  libenter 
Obtulerem  tibi,  Maecenas,  ut  forte  legentem 
VOL.  £1T 


"Jafutus  calls  me  fool,  and  clownifh  bear, 
tfor  (but  for  perfe<ft  candour)  flops  he  there. 
A)  Ah  !  what  unthinking  heedlefs  things  are  men, 
1"  enact  fuch  laws  as  mull  themfelves  condemn  ? 
n  every  human  foulfome  vices  fpring 
Tor  fair  perfection  is  no  mortal  thing)  ; 
Whoe'er  is  with  the  feweft  faults  endu'd, 
is  tut  the  beft  of  what  cannot  be  good. 
Then  view  me,  friend,  in  an  impartial  light, 
Survey  the  good  and  bad,  the  black  and  white; 
And  if  ye  find  me,  Sir,  upon  the  whole, 
To  be  an  honeft  and  ingenious  foul, 
By  the  fame  rule  I'll  meafure  you  again, 
And  give  you  your  allowance  to  a  grain. 
'Tis  friendly  and  'tis  fair  on  either  hand, 
To  grant  th  indulgence  we  ourfclves  demand. 
If  on  your  hump  we  caft  a  fav'ring  eye, 
You  muft  excufe  all  thofe  who  are  awry. 
In  fliort,  fince  vice  or  folly,  great  or  fhiall, 
Is  more  or  lefs  inherent  in  us  all, 
Who'er  offends,  our  cenfure  let  .us  guide, 
With  a  ftrong  bias  to  the  candid  fide ; 
Nor  (as  the  Stoics  did  in  ancient  times) 
Rank  little  foibles  with  enormous  crimes. 
(;')  If,  when  your  butler,  e'er  he  brings  a  difh, 
Should  lick  his  fingers,  or  fhould  drop  a  fifh, 
Or  from  the  fide-board  filch  a  cup  of  ale, 
Enrag'd  you  fend  the  puny  thief  to  goal ; 
You'd  be  (methink)  as  infamous  an  oaf, 
As  that  immenfe  "portentous  fcoundrel  *. 

Yet  worfe  by  far  (if  worfe  at  all  can  be) 
In  folly  and  iniquity  is  he  ; 
Who,  for  fome  trivial,  focial,  well-meant  joke, 
Which  candour  fhould  forget  as  foon  as  fpoke, 
Would  flum  his  friend,  neglectful  and  unkind, 
As  if  old  Parfon  Packthread  was  behind ; 
Who  drags  up  all  his  vifitors  by  force, 
And,  without  mercy,  reads  them  his  difcourfe. 


Aut  taciturn  impellat  quovis  fermone  ?  moleftus  ? 
Communi  fenfu  plane  caret,  inquirr.us.     (£)  Eheu, 
Quam  temere  in  nofmet  legem  fancimus  iniquam  ? 
Nam  vitiis  nemo  fine  nafcitur  -.  optimus  ille  eft, 
Qui  minimis  urgetur.  amicus  dulcis,  utsequumcft» 
Cum  mea  compenfet  vitiis  bona,  pluribus  hifce 
Si  modo  plura  mihi  bona  funt,  inclinet ;  amari 
Si  volet  hac  lege,  in  trutina  ponetur  eadem. 
Qui,  ne  tuberibus  propriis  offendat  amicuin 
Poftulat :  ignofcat  verrucis  illius.  jequum  eft, 
Peccatis  veniem  pofcentem  rcddere  rurfus. 
Denique,  quatenns  excidi  penitus  tritium  iro:, 
Caetera  item  nequeunt  ftultus  hserentia;  cur  nan. 
Ponderibus,  modulifque  fuis  ratio  utitur  ?  ac  res 
Ut  quseque  eft,  ita  fupplitiis  delicta  coerect  ? 
(»')  Si  qujs  eum  fervum,  patinam  qui  tollerc  jufr 

fusj  .    . 

Semefqs  pifces,  tipiduoique  li^iiriept  jus, 
In  cruce  fuffigat  j'Labeone  infanior,  inter 
Sanos  dkatMr.     Ouanto  hoc  furiofms  atque 
Majus  peccatum  eTi:  ?  paullum  cclinquit  amicus, 
(Quodn;ficonceda.s,  habcare  infuavis,  acenbusj ; 
Odifti  et  fugis,  ut  Drofoncm  dcbitursris? 
Oiii  nifi  cum  triftes  mifero  venere  caknda;, 
Mcrced^m  aut  nummoi  unde  unde  extricat,  amars*. 
Porreao  jugulo  hiftonas,  captivu*  ut,  audi;. 

*  An  infamoilp  attorney, 


THE  WORKS  OF  SMART. 


No— not  for  China's  wide  domain  itfclt. 
If  toys  like  thefe  were  caufe'  ef  real  grief,  ~) 

What  fhould  I  do,  or  whither  feek  relief, 
Suppofe  him  perjur'd,  faithlefs,  pimp,  or  thief?  } 


(I")  If  fick  at  heart,  and  heavy  at  the  head, 
My  drunken  friend  fhall  reel  betimes  to  bed ; 
And  in  the  morn  with  affluent  difcharge, 
Should  fign  and  feal  his  rcfidence  at  large  ; 
Or  fhould  he  in  forrje  paffionate  debate, 
By  way  of  inftance,  break  an  earthen  plate  ; 
Would  I  forfake  him  for  a  piece  of  citlph  ? 
No— not  for  China's  wide  domain  itfclt. 
If  toy 
Wha 

Away — a  foolifh  knavifh  tribe  you  are, 
Who  falfely  put  ail  vices  on  a  par. 
From  this  fair  reafon  her  aflent  withdraws, 
E'en  fordid  intereft  gives  up  the  caufe, 
That  mother  of  our  cuffoms  and  our  laws. 
When  firft  yen  golden  fun  array'd  the  eaft, 
Small. was  the  difference  'twixt  man  and  beafl, ; 
With  hands,  with  nails,   with  teeth,  with  clubs 

they  fought,  [wrought 

Till  malice  was  im'prov'd,  and  deadlier  weapons 
Language,  at  length,  and  words  experience  found, 
And  fenfe  obtain'd  a  vehicle  in  found. 
Then  wholefome  laws  were  fram'd,  and  towns 

were  built, 

And'juftice  feiz'd  the  lawlefs  vagrants  guilt ; 
And  theft,  adultery,  and  fornication        [faflnon  : 
Were  punifli'd  much,  forfooth,    though  much  in 
(/)  For  long  before  fair  Helen's  fatal  charmi 
Had  many  a------ -  - 

...  —  Hiafue  magnus  lacrymabilii 

fet  the  world  in  arms. 
But  kindly  kept  by  no  hiftorians  care, 
They  all  goodlack,  have  perifh'd  to  an  hair. 
But  be  that  as  it  may,  yet  in  all  climes, 
There's  diff'rent  punifhrnent  for  diff'rent  crimes. 
Hold,  blockhead  hold — this  fure  is  not  the  way,") 
For  all  alike  I'd  lafh,  and  all  I'd  flay,  i 

Cries  W***»**n,  if  I'd  fovereign  fway.  J 


(k)  Commixit  lecftum  potus,  menfave  catillum 
Evandri  manibus  tritum  dejecit :  ob  hanc  reqi, 
Aut  pofitam  ante  mea  quia  pullum  in  parte  catini 
Suftulit  efuriens,  minus  hoc jocundus  amicus 
Sit  mini  ?  quid  faciam,  fi  furtum  fecerit?  aut  fi 
Prodiderit  commifla  fide  ?  fponfumve  negarit  ? 
Queis  paria  efie  fere  placuit  peccata,  laborant, 
Cum  ventum  ad  verum  eft ;  fenfus,  morefque  re 
pugnant 

Atqueipfa  utilitas  jufti  prope  mater,  et  zqui. 
Cum  prorepferunt  primis  ainmalia  terris,         [t'er, 
Murum  et  turpe  pecus,glandem  atquecubiliaprpp- 
Unguibus,  et  pugnis,  dien  fuftibus,  atque  ita  pcrro 
Pugnabant  armis,  quse  poft  fabricave  at  uftis : 
•Donee  verba,  quibus  voces  fenfufque  notarent, 
Nominaque  invenere  ;  dehinc  abfiftere  bello, 
Oppida  cccperunt  munire,  et  ponere  leges; 
jNe  q'uis  fur  eflet,  neu  latra,  neu  quis  adulter. 

(/)  Nam  fuit  ante  Hclenam  cunnus  teterrima 

belli 

Caufa :  fed  ignotis  perierunt  mortibis  illi, 
Qtips  Venerem  incertam  rapientes  more  ferarum 
Viribus  editior  caedcbat,  ut  in  grege  taurus. 


Have  fov'reign  fway,  and  an  imperial  robtf, 
With  fury  "  fultunale  o'er  half  the  globe. 
Meanwhile,  if  I  from  each  indulgent  friend, 
Obtain  rerniflkm,  when  I  chance  t'  offend, 
V\  hy,  in  return,  I'll  make  the  balance  even, 
And,  for  forgiving,  they  fhall  be  forgiven. 
(/»)•  With  ?eal  I'll  love,  be  courteous  e'en  to  ftrifc, 
More  bleft  than  emperors  in  private  life. 

PROLOGUE 

TO  A.TRIP  TO  CAMBRIDGE,    OR    Til?    GRATEFUL 


A  Mock  Play,  uSied  at  Fcwbrclc  College 
Cambridge,   1747. 

IN  ancient  days,  as  jovial  Horace  frngs, 
When  laurell'd  hards  were  lawgivers  and  kings, 
Bold  was  the  comic  mufe,  without  reftraint, 
To  name  the  vicious  and  tine  vice  to  paint  ; 
Th'  enliven'd  picture  from  the  cunvafs  flew, 
And  the  ftrcng  likenefs  crowded  in  the  view. 
Our  author  prafiifes  more  general  rules, 
He  is  no  niggard  of  his  knaves  and  fool*  : 
Both  fmall  and  great,  both  pert  and  dull  hi*  muffe, 
Difplays,  that  every  one  may  pick  and  choofe. 
The  rules  dramatic,  though  he  fcarcely  knows, 
Of  time  and  place,  and  all  the  piteous  profe, 
That  pedant  Frenchmen    fnuffle   through   their 
nofe.  [done, 

Fools,   who  perfonate  what  Homer  fhould  have 
Like  tattling  watches  they  correct  the  fun. 
Critics,  like  polls,  undoubtedly  may  {how 
The  way  to  Pindus,  but  they  cannot  go,     ' 
Whene'er  immortal  Shakfpeare's  works  are  read, 
He  wins  the  heart  before  he  ftrikes  the  head. 
Swift  to  the  foul  the  piercing  image  flies, 
Swifter  than  Harriot's  wit,  or  Ifarriot's  eyes  ; 
Swifter  than  fome  romantic  traveller's  thoiyjht; 
Swifter  than  Britifli  fire  when  William  fought. 
Fancy  precedes,  and  conquers  all  the  mind  ; 
Deliberating  judgment  fiowly  comes  behind; 
Comes  to  the  Celd  with  blunderbufs  and  gun, 
Like  heavy  Fa//l<ijf^when  the  work  is  done,  [pain, 
Fights,  when  the  battle's  o'er,  with   wornl  rous. 
By  Shrewfbury's  clock,  and  nobly  flays  the  flain. 
The  critic's  cenfures  are  beneath  our  care, 
We  ftrive  to  pleafe  the  generous  and  the  fair  ; 
To  their  decifion  we  fubmit  our  claim, 
We  write  not,  fpeak  npt  .  breath  not,  but  for  them. 

SOLILOQUY  OF  THE   PRINCESS  PERRI- 
WINKLE, 

In  tie  Mo/Jt  Play  of  "  A  Tref  to  Camtiit/gt,  or  the 
Grateful  fair." 

[The  Princtfs  PERHIWJNKLE  fold,  attended  ay  four 

teen  maids  of  great  honour.} 

SURE  fuch  a  wretch  as  I  was  never  born, 

By  all  the  world  deferted  and  forlorn  : 


.  _  .  -  dum  tu  quadrante  lavatum 
Rex  ibis,  neque  te  quifquam  ftipator,  ineptum 
Prseter  Crifpimim,  fetStabitu r  :   et  mihi  dukes 
Ignofcent,  fi  quid  pcccavero  ftultus,  amici. 

(w)  Inque  Wccm  illorurn  patiar  delida  libentcr, 
Privatufque  magis  vivam  te  rege  beatus. 

*  Avtrd  coined  in  the  manner  of  Mr.  W-rM<, 

• 


POEMS. 


lies,") 
lies,  j- 
om-J 


This  bitter  fweet,  this  honey-gall  to  prove, 
And  all  the  oil  and  vinegar  of  love  ; 
Pride,  love,  and  reafon,  will  not  let  me  reft, 
But  make  a  devilifh  buftle  in  my  breaft. 
To  wed  with  Fizgig  pride>  pride,  pride,  denies,' 
Put  on  a  Spanifli  padlock,  reafon  cries ;     [pi; 
But  tender,  gentle  love,  with  every  wi(h  com 
Pride,  love,  and  reafon,  fight  till  they  are  cloy'd, 
And  each  by  each  in  mutual  wounds  deftroy'd. 
Thus  when  a  barber  and  a  collier  fight, 
The  barber  beats  the  lucklefs  collier — white  ; 
The  dufty  collier  heaves  his  ponderous  fack, 
And,  bigwith  vengeance, beats  the  barber— black. 
Incomes  the  brick-duft  man,  with  grime  o'erfpread, 
And  beats  the  collier  and  the  barber — red; 
Black,  red,  and  white,  in  various  clouds  are  tofs'd, 
And  in  the  duft  they  raife,  the  combatants  are  loft. 

AN    OCCASIONAL 

PROLOGUE  AND  EPILOGUE  TO 
OTHELLO, 

At  it  ivas  ailed  at  the  Theatre-Royal  in  Drury- 
Lane,  on  Thitrfday  the  "jth  of  March  1751,  by 
Perfonf  of  Diftiti£lion,for  their  Di<verfion. 
WHILE  mercenary  actors  tread  the  ftage, 
And  hireling  fcribblers  lafh  or  lull  the  age, 
Our's  be  the  tafk  t'  inftrudl  and  entertain, 
Without  one  thought  of  glory  or  of  gain._ 
Virtue's  her  o\vn — from  no  external  caufe— 
She  gives,  and  ilie  demands  the  felf-applaufe  : 
Home  to  her  breaft  (he  brings  the  heart-felt  bays, 
Heedlefs  alike  of  profit  and  of  praife. 
This  now  perhaps  is  wrong—yet  this  we  know, 
'Twas  fenfe  and  truth  a  century  ago : 
When  Britain  with  tranfcendent  glory  crown'd, 
For  high  achievements,  as  for  wit  renown' d  ; 
Cull'd  from  each  growing  grace  the  pureit  part, 
And  cropt  the  flowers  from  every  blooming  art, 
Our  nobleft  youth  would  then  embrace  the  tafk 
Of  comic  humour,  or  the  myftic  mafque.       [bards 
'Twas  their's  t'  encourage  worth,   and   give  to 
What  now  is  fpent  in  boxing  and  in  cards. 
Good  fenfe  their  pleafure — virtue  ftill  their  guide, 
And  Englifli  magnanimity — their  pride. 
Methinks  I  fee  with  fancy's  magic  eye, 
The  (hade  of  Shakfpeare,  in  yon  azure  iky. 
On  yon  high  cloud  behold  the  bard  advance, 
Piercing  all  naunre  with  a  fingle  glance : 
'In  various  attitudes  around  him  ftand 
The  paflions,  waiting  for  his  dread  command. 
Firft  kneeling  love  before  his  feet  appears, 
And,  mufically  fighing,  melts  in  tears. 
Near  him  fell  jealoufy  with  fury  burns, 
And  into  ftorms  the  amorous  breathings  turns  ; 
Then  hope,  with  heavenward  look,  and  joy  drawn 

near, 
While  palfied  terror  trembles  in  the  rear. 

Such  Shakfpeare's  train  of  horror  and  delight, 
And  fuch  we  hope  to  introduce  to-night. 
But  if,  though  juft  in  thought,  we  fail  in  fa&, 
And  good  intention  ripens  not  to  aft, 
Weigh  our  defign,  your  cenfure  ftill  defer, 
When  truth's  in  view,  'tis  glorious  e'en  to  err. 

EPILOGUE, 

SPOKEN  BY  DISDEMOKA, 

TRUE  woman  to  the  laft— my  peroration 
I  conic' to  iueas,  in  fpite  of  fuffocation ; 


To  fliow  the  prefent  and  the  age  to  come, 
•Ve  may  be  cJiok'd,  but  never  can  be  dumb. 
Well,  now  methinks  I  fee  you  all  run  out, 
And  hade  away  to  Lady  BragwelPs  tout; 
£ach  modifli  fentiment  to  hear  and  weigh, 
3f  thofe  who  nothing  think,  and  all  things  fay. 
:*rudella  firft  in  parody  begins 
'Tor  nonfenfe  and  buffoonery  are  twins). 
'  Can  beaux  the  court  for  theatres  exchange  J" 
1   fwear  by   Heaven  'tis  ftrange,  'tis  paffiog 

'  ftrange ;' 

'  And  very  whimfical,  and  mighty  dull," 
1  And  pitiful,  and  wond'rous  pitiful : 
'  I  wifli  I  had  not  heard  it' — blefled  dame  '. 
Whene'er  flie  fpeaks,  her  audience  wifli  the  fame. 
Next  Neddy  Nicely — "  Fie,  O  fie,  good  lack, 
"  A.nafty  man,  to  make  his  face  all  black." 
Then  Lady  Stiffheck  mows  her  pious  rage, 
And  wonders  we  ftiould  ac~l — upon  a  ftage. 
"  Why,  ma'am,  fays  Coquetilla,  a  difgrace  ? 
"  Merit  in  any  form  may  (how  her  face  : 
"  In  this  dull  age  the  male  things  ought  to  play, 
"  To  teach  them  what  to  do,  and  what  to  fay." 
In  fhort,  they  all  with  diff  rent  cavils  cram  us, 
And  only  are  unanimous  to  damn  us. 
But  ftill  there  are  a  fair  judicious  few,    - 
Who  judge  -unbiafs'd,  and  with  candour  view; 
Who  value  honefty,  though  clad  in  buff, 
And  wit,  tho'ugh  drefs'd  in  an  old  Englifli  ruff. 
Behold  them  here — I  beaming  fenfe  decry, 
Shot  from  the  living  luftre  of  each  eye* 
Such  meaning  fmiles  each  blooming  face  adorn, 
\s  deck  the  pleafu  re-painted  brow  of  morn ; 
And  (how  the  perfonofeach  matchlefs  fair, 
Though  rich  to  rapture,  and  above  compare, 
Js,  ev'n  with  all  the  (kill  of  Heav'n  defign'd, 
But  an  imperfect  image  of  their  mind  ; 
While  chaftity,  unblemifli'd  and  unbrib'd, 
Adds  a  majeftic  mien,  that  fcorns  to  be  defcrib'd: 
Such  we  will  vaunt,  and  only  fuch  as  thefe, 
'Tis  our  ambition  and  our  fame  to  pleafc. 

EPILOGUE  TO  THE  APPRENTICE. 
(Enters  reading  a  Play-Sill.") 

A  VERY  pretty  bill — as  I'm  alive  ! 
The  part  of— nobody— by  Mrs.  Clive  ! 
A  paltry  icribbiing  fool — to  leave  me  out— 
He'll  fay,  perhaps — he  thought  I  could  not  fpont. 
Malice  and  envy  to  the  laft  degree  ! 
And  why  ? — I  wrote  a  farce  as  well  »s  he, 
And  fairly  ventur'd  it — without  the  aid  ~l 

Of  prologue  drefs'd  in  black,  and  face  in  maf-f 

querade ;  C 

Oh  !  pit — have  pity — fee  how  I'm  difmay'd  '.     j 
I'oor  foul !   this  canting  ftuff  will  never  do, 
Unlefs,  like  Bayes,  he  brings  his  hangman  too. 
But  granting  that  from  thefe  fame  obfequies, 
Some  pickings  to  our  bard  in  black  arife  ; 
Should  your  applaufe  to  joy  convert  his  fear, 
As  Pallas  turns  to  feaft— Lardella's  bier  ; 
Yet  'twould  have  been  a  better  fcheme  by  half. 
T1  have  thrown  his  weeds  afide,  and  learnt  with 

me  to  laugh, 

I  could  have  fljown  him,  had  he  been  inclin'd, 
A  fpouting  junto  of  the  female  kind. 
There  dwells  a  milliner  in  yonder  row, 
Well  drefs'd,  full  toic'd,  and  nobly  built  for  (how; 
Nij 


THE   WORKS   OF   SMART. 


Who,  when  In  rage,  (lie  fcolds  at  Sue  and  Sarah, 
Damn'd,  damn'd  difiembler  1' — thinks  flie  more 

than  Zara  ? 

She  has  a  daughter  too  that  deals  in  lace, 
And  fings — O  ponder  well — and  Chevy  Chafe, 
And  fain  would  fill  the  fair  Ophelia's  place. 
And  in  her  cock'd  up  hat,  and  gown  of  camblet, 
Prefumes    on    fomething — '  touching    the    Lord 

«  Hamiet. 

A  coufin  too  (he  has  with  fquinting  eyes, 
With  waddling  gait,  and  voice  like  London  cries ; 
Who  for  the  ftage  too  mort  by  half  a  ftory, 
Acts  Lady  Townly — thus— in  all  her  glory. 
And  while  flip's  traverfing  her  fcanty  room, 
Cries — '  Lord  !  my  lord,  what  can  I  do  at  home?' 
Jn  fliort,  we've  girls  enough  for  all  the  fellows,  ~) 
The  ranting,  whining,  ftarting,  and  the  jealous,  > 
The  Hotfpurs,  Komeos,  Hamlets,  and  Othellos.  J 
Oh  '.  little  do  thofe  filly  people  know, 
"What/dreadful  trials — actors  undergo. 
Myfelf— who  mod  in  harmony  delight, 
Am  fcolding  here  from  morning  until  night. 
Then  take  advice  from  me,  ye  giddy  things, 
Ye  royal  milliners,  ye  apron'd  kings; 
Young  men,  beware,  and  (hun  our  flippery  ways, 
Study  arithmetic,  and  (hun  our  plays; 
And  you,  ye  girls,  let  not  our  tinfel  train 
Enchant  youreyes,  and  turn  your  madd'ning  brain ; 
lie  timely  wife,  for  oh  !  be  fure  of  this, 
A  (hop  with  virtue,  is  the  height  of  blifs. 

EPILOGUE, 

SPOKEN    BY   MR.    SHUTER, 

At  Covent-Garden,  after  the  Play  of  the  "  Con- 
'  fchus  Lwers"  aUedfor  the  Benefit  of  the  Mld~ 

dleffx  Hofpital  for  Lying-in  Women,  1755,  in 

the  CharaSer  of  a  Man-Akidzvife. 

(Enters  'with  a  Child.) 

WHOE'ER  begat  thee  has  no  caufe  toblufh^ 
Thou'rt  a  brave  chopping  boy  (child  cries),  nay, 

hufli,  hufli,  hufli  1 

A  workman  faith  1  a  man  of  rare  difcretion, 
A  friend  to  Britain,  and  to  our  piofeffion  : 
With  face  fo  chubby,  and  with  locks  fo  glad, 
O  rare  roaft  beef  of  England ! — here's  a  lad  ! 

(Shows  him  to  the  company.) 
(Child  makes  a  n'tifc  again.) 
Nay,  if  you  once  begin  to  puke  and  cough, 
Go  to  the  nurfe.  Within  !— here,  take  him  off. 
Well,  Heav'n  be  prais'd,  it  is  a  peopling  age, 
Thanks  to  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  and  the  Itage; 
But  not  to  th'  army—  thr.t's  not  Worth  a  farthing, 
The  captains  go  too  much  to  Covent-Garden, 
Spoil  many  a  girl — but  i'eldom  make  a  mother  ; 
They  foil   us   one   way — 'but   we    have  them  t' 
other.  (Shakes  a  box  ofpilU.) 

The  nation  profpers  by  fuch  joybui  fouls, 
Hence  fmokes  my  table,  hence  my  chariot  rolls. 
Though  fome  fnug  jobs,  from  furgery  may  fpring, 
Man-midwifery,  man-midwifery's  the  thing  '. 
Lean~fliould  I  be,  e'en  as  my  own  anatomy, 
!By  mere  cathartics  and  by  plain  phlebotomy. 
Well,  befides  gain,  befides  the  power  to  pleafe, 
Befides  the  mufic  of  fuch  birds  as  thefe, 

{Shakes  a  furfe.) 


to  pray,"^ 
yfic  way,  > 
day."  J 


[t  is  a  joy  refin'd,  unmix'cl,  and  pure, 
To  hear  the  praifes  of  the  grateful  poor. 
This  day  comes  honeft  Taffy  to  my  houfe, 
'  Cot  plefs  her,  her  has  fav'd  her_puy  and  fpoufe^ 
'  Her  lav'd  her  Gwinnifrid,  or  death  had  fwal- 

"  low'd  her, 
"  Though  creat  crand,  creat  crand  crand  child  of 

"  Cadwallader." 

Cries  Patrick  Toulz'em,  "  I  am  bound  to  pr 
"  You've  fav'd  my  Sue  in  your  fame  phyfic 
"  And  further  fliall  I  thank  you  yefterday. 
Then  Sawney  came,  and  thank'd  me  for  my  love 
(I  very  readily  excus'd  his  glove), 
He  blefs'd  the  mon,  e'en  by  St.  Andrew's  crofs, 
"  Who  cur'd  his  bonny  bairn,  and  blithfome  lafs." 
But  merriment  and  mimicry  apart,  "^ 

Thanks  to  each  bounteous  hand  and  gen'rous  ( 
heart,  f 

Of  thofe,  who  tenderly  take  pity's  part  ;  J 

Who  in  good-natur'd  acts  can  fweetly  grieve, 
Swift  to  lament,  but  fwifter  to  relieve. 
Thanks  to  the  lovely  fair  ones,  types  of  heaven, 
Who  raife  and  beautify  the  bounty  given  ; 
But  chief  to  *  him  in  whom  diftrefs  confides, 
Who  o'er  this  noble  plan  fo  glorioufly  prefides. 

DE  ARTE  CRITIC  A. 
A  Latin  Verfion  of  Pope's  Effay  on  Criticifm. 

"  Nee  me  animi  fallit  - 
Difficile  illuftrare  Latinis  verfibus  efle 
(Multa  novis  verbis  praefertim  cum  fit  agendum) 
Propter  egeftatem  lingux,  et  rerura  novitatem." 

LUCRIT. 

DICTU  difficile  eft,  an  fit  dementia  major 
Egiffe  invita  vatem  criticumne  Minerva1  ; 
Ille  tamen  certe  venia  tibi  dignior  errat 
Qui  laffat,  quam  qui  feducit  in  avia  fenfus. 
Sunt,  qui  abfurda  canunt  ;    fed  enira  ftultiflima 

ftultos  : 

Quam  longe  exuperat  criticorum  natio  vates  ; 
Se  folum  exhibuit  quondam,  melioribus  annis 
Natus  hebes,  ridendum;  ac  nunc  mufa  improba 

prolemo 

Innumeram  gignit,  qnae  mox  fermone  foluto 
JEquinater  ftolidos  verfus,  certetque  ftupendo. 

No^is  judicium,  veluti  quae  dividit  horas 
Machina,  conftruitur,  motus  non  omnibus  idem, 
Non  pretium,    regit  ufque  tamen  fua  quemque^ 

Poetas  ; 

Divite  perp^ucos  vena  donavit  Apollo, 
Et  criticis  reCle  fapere  eft  rariffima  virtns  ; 
Arte  in  -traque  nitent  felices  indole  foli, 
Mufaque  quos  placido  nalcentes  lumine  vidit. 
Ille  f  alios  naelros.  qui  inclaruit  ipfe,  'iocebit,    . 
Jureque  quam  meruit,  potent  tr'builTe  ccru.iam. 
Scriptore^  (fr.ttor)  fidunt  jiropriae  njmis  arti, 
Nonne  autem  criticos  pravc.s  favor  urget  ibidem,  ? 
Ar  vero  propriu<  (iftemus,  cuique  fatendam  eft, 
Judicium  \  quoddam  natura  infeverit  olim  : 

*  The  Earl,  afterwards  Duke  of  Northumerland. 

f  "Qui  fcribit  artificiofe,  ah  abliis  commode 
fcripta  facile  intelligere  poterit."  Cic.  ad  Herenn. 
b.4. 

\  "  Omnes  tacito  quodam  fenfu,  fine  ulta  arte, 
aut  ratione,  quae  fint  in  artibus  ac  rationibus  recta 
ac  prava  dijudicant'."  Cic.  de  Oral.  lib.  ^ 


OEMS. 


Ilia  diem  certe  dubiam  diffundere  callct 

Et,  ftri&im  defcripta  licet,  fibi  linea  conftat. 

Sed  minimum  ut  fpecimen,  quod  pi&or  doctus 

adumbrat, 

Deterius  tibi  fiat  co  mage,  quo  mage  vilem 
Inducat  ifti  fucum,  fie  mentis  honeftas 
Dodrina  effigiem  maculabit  prava  dccoram. 
His  inter  caecas  mens  illaqueata  fcholarum 
Ambages  errat,  ftolidifque  fupervenit  illis 
(Diis  aliter  vifum  eft)  petulantia.    Pcrdere  fenfum 
Communem  hi  fudant,  dum  fruftra  afcendere  Pin- 

dum 

Conantur,  mox,  ut  fe  defenforibus  ipfis 
Utantur,  critici  quoque  fiunt :  omnibus  idem 
Ardor  fcribendi,  ftudio  hi  rivalis  aguntur, 
Illis  invalida  eunuchi  violentia  glifcit. 
Ridendi  proprium  eft  fatuis  cacoethes,  amantque 
Turbse  perpetuo  fefe  immifcere  jocofas. 
Mxvius  invito  dum  fudat  Apolline,  multi 
Pingue  opus  exuperant  (fi  diis  placet)  emendando. 
Sunt  qui  belli  homines  primo,  turn  deinde  poetz, 
Mox  critici  evafere,  meri  turn  denique  ftulti. 
Eft,  qui  nee  criticum  nee  vatem  reddit,  inerfque 
TJt  mulus,  medium  quoddam  eft  afinum  inter  e- 

quumque 

Bellula  lemi-hominum  vix  pane  elementa  fcientem 
Primula  gens  horum  eft,  prernitur  quibus  Anglia, 

quantum 

Imperfedta  fcatent  ripis  animalcula  nili, 
Futile,  abortivum  genus,  et  prope  nominis  expers, 
Ufque  adeo  asquivoca  eft,  e  qua  generantur,  origo. 
Hos  centum  nequeunt  lingux  numerare,  nee  una 
Unius  ex  ipfis,  quse  centum  fola  fctiget. 

At  tu  qui  famam  fimul  exigis  atque  redohas 
Pro  meritis,  criticique  affectas  nobile  nomen. 
Metitof  te  ipfum,  prudenfque  expendito  qua;  fit 
Judicii,  ingenii  tibi,  doctrinseque  facultas ; 
Si  qua  profunda  nimis,  cauto  vitentor,  et  ilia 
Linea,  q«a  coeunt  ftupor  ingeniumque,  notator. 
Qui  finem  impofuit  rebus  Deus  omnibus  aptum, 
Humani  vanum  ingenii  reftrinxit  acumen.1 
Qualis  ubi  oceani  vis  noftra  irrumpit  in  arva, 
Tune  defolatas  alibi  denudat  arenas ; 
Sic  animx  reminifcendi  dum  copia  reftat, 
Confilii  gravioris  abeft  plerumque  poteftas  J 
Aft  ubi  Phantafix  fulgent  radiantia  t'ela, 
Mnemofyne  teneris  cum  formis  victa  liquefcit. 
Ingenio  tantum  mufa  uni  fu-fficit  una, 
Tanta  ars  eft,  tantilla  fcientia  noflra  videtur : 
Non  folum  ad  certas  artes  aftricfta  feqUendas, 
Saepe  has  non  nifi  quadam  in  fimplice  parte  fequa- 

tur. 

Deperdas  partos  utcunque  labort  triumphos, 
Dum  plures,  regnm  inftar,  aves  acquirerc  lauros; 
Sed  fua  tradtatu  facilis  prOvincia  cuique  eft, 
Si  non,  quse  pulchre  fciat,  ut  vulgaria,  temnat. 
Naturam  fequere  imprimis,  atque  illius  xqua 
Judicium  ex  norma  fingas,  qux  nefcia  flecti : 
Ilia  etenim,  fine  labe  micans,  ab  origine  divi, 
Clara,  conftanti,  luftrantique  omnia  luce, 
Vitamque,  fpeciemque,  et  vires  omnibus  addat, 
.lit  fons,  et  finis  fimul,  atque  criterion  artis. 
Quxrit  opts  ex  hdc  thefauro  ars,  et  fine  pompa 
Praifidet,  et  nullas  turbas  facit  inter  agendum. 
Talis,  vivida  vis  formofo  in  corpore  mentis, 
Lwt'ium  toti  infpirans  tt  robore  mafia;, 
Ordinal  et  motus,  et  nervos  fuftinet  omnes, 
Inter  opus  varium  tamen  ipfa  'abfcondiu  follit. 


Sajpe  is,  cui  magnum  ingenium  Deus  addidit,  idem 
ladigus  eft  majoris,  ut  hoc  beiie  calleat  uti ; 
Ingenium  nam  judicio  velut  uxor  habendum  eft, 
Atque  viro,  cui  fas  ut  pareat  ufque  repugnat. 
Mufas  quadrupedum  labor  eft  inhibere  capiftro, 
Prascipites  regere,  at  non  irritare  volatus 
Pegafos,  inftar  equi  generofi,  grandior  ardet 
Cum  fentit  retinacula,  nobiiiorque  tuttur. 

Regula  quaeque  vetus  tantum  obfervata  periti* 
Non  inventa  fuit  criticis,  debetque  profedo 
iNaturas  afcribi,  fed  enim  quam  lima  polivit ; 
Nullas  naturae  divina  monarchia  leges, 
Exceptis  folum  quas  fanxerit  ipfa,  veretur. 

Qualibus,  audiftin"  refonat  celeberrima  normii 
Grscia,  feu  dodtum  premit,  indulgetve  furorem? 
Ilia  fuos  fifth  Parnafli  in  vertice  natos, 
Et,  quibus  afcendere  docet,  falebrofa  viarum, 
Sublimique  manu  dona  immortaiia  monftrat, 
Atque  aeqUis  reliquos  procedere  paflibus  urget. 
Sic  magnis  dodrina  *  ex  exemplaribus  haufta,    • 
Sumit  ab  hifce,  quod  haec  duxerunt  ab  Jove  fumm». 
Ingenuus  judex  mufaram  vetitilat  ignes, 
Et  fretus  ratione  docet  pracepta  placendi. 
Ars  critica  officiofa  CamoEiia;  fcrvit,  et  ornat 
Egregias  veneres,  plurefque  kretit  amantcs. 
Nunc  vero  dodi  longc  diverfa  fequenu>s, 
Contempti  domina,  vilem  petiere  miniftram ; 
Propriaque  in  miferos  veterunt  tela  poetas, 
Difcipuhque  fuos  pro  more  odere  magiftros. 
Hand  aliter  fane  noftrates  pharmacopeias 
Ex  medicum  crevit  quibus  ars  plagiaria  chartis, 
Audaces  errorum  adhibent  fine  mt;nte  mcdcla*, 
Et  veraj  Hippocratis  jadant  convicia  proli. 
Hi  vetcrum  authorum  fcriptis  vefcuntur,  et  ipfos 
Vermiculos,  et  tempus  edax  vicere  vorando. 
StultitiS  fimplex  ille,  et  fine  divite  vena, 
Carmina  quo  fiant  pa<fto  miferabile  narrat. 
Dodrinam  ofleatans,  mentem  alter  perdidit  om- 

nem 
Atque  alter  nodis  vafer  implicat  cnodando. 

Tu  quicumque  cupis  judex  procedere  rede, 
Fac  veteris  cujufque  ftylus  difcatur  ad  unguem; 
Fabula,  materies,  quo  tendat  pagina  quasvis ; 
Patria,  religio  qu»  fint,  queis  moribus  aevum  : 
Si  non  intuitu  cunda  hajc  corcplecteris  uno, 
Scurra,  cavilator — criticus  mihi  non  eris  unquam. 
Ilias  eilo  tibi  ftudium,  tibi  fola  voluptas,  ' 
Perque  diem  lege,  per  nddes  meditare  ferenas ; 
Hinc  tibi  judicium,  hinc  ortum  fententia  ducat, 
Mufarumquc  undas  fontem  bibe  Isetus  ad  ipfutn. 
Ipfe  fuofum  operum  fit  commentator,  et  author, 
Majonidifve  legas  interprete  fcripta  Marone. 

f  Cum  canciet  primum  parvus  Maro  b«Ua  vi- 

rofque, 

N<>c  monitor  Phoebus  tremulas  jam  velleret  aure», 
Legibus  irumuiiem  criticis  fe  forte  putabat, 
Nil  nifi  uaturam  archetypam  dignatus  adire : 
Sed  fimul  ac  caute  mentem  per  iingula  volvit, 
Naturam  invenit,  qu^cunquc  ir.venit  Hoiuerum. 
Vidus,  et  attonitus,  uialelani  definit  auli, 
Jamque  laboratum  in  numerum  vigil  omnia  cogit, 

*  "  Nee  enim  artibus  editis  faclum  eft  ut  argu- 
menta  in  vcnircmus,  fed  didla  funt  omnia  antequara 
preciperentur,  mox  ea  fcriptorea  obfervata  et  col- 
le<Sta  cdideiunt.  QUINTH.. 

f  '•  Cum  canerem  Regcs  ct  Pralia,  Cyuthiu* 
i — Vcilit."  Vj.ifc.  Ld,  k. 

N  iij 


THi  WORKS   OF  SMART. 


Cultaquc  Anftotelis  metitur  carmina  norma. 
Hinc  veterum  difcas  prseccpta  veterier,  iilos 
Senator  fie  naturam  fecftaberis  ipfam. 

At  vero  virtus  reftat  jam  plurima,  nullo 
Dcfcribenda  modo,  nullaque  parabilis  arte, 
Nam  felix  tarn  fortuna  eft,  quam  cura  canendi. 
Muficam  in  hoc  reddit  divina  pocfis,  urramque 
Multse  orant  veneres  quas  verbis  pingere  non  eft, 
Quafque  attingere  nil  niii  furr.ma  peritia  poiTit. 
*  Regula  quandocunqne  minus  diffufa  videtur, 
( Quum  tantum  ad  propriam  collinet  fingula  me- 

tam) 

Si  modo  confiliis  inferviat  ulla  juvandis 
Apta  licentia,  lex  enim  ifta  licentia  fiat. 
Atque  ita  quo  citius  procedat,  calle  reliclo 
Communi  mufx  fonipes  bene  devius  erret. 
Accidit  interdum,  ut  fcriptores  ingenium  ingens 
Evehat  ad  culpam  egregiam,  maculafque  micantes 
Quas  nemo  criticorum  audet  detergere  figat ; 
Accidit  ut  linquat  vulgaria  clauftra  furore 
Magnanimo,  rapiatque  folutum  lege  decorem, 
Qui,  quum  judicium  non  intercedat,  ad  ipfnm 
Cor  properat,  finefque  illic  fimul  obtinet  cmnes. 
Haud  aliter  fi  forte  jugo  fpeculamur  aprico, 
Luminibus  res  arrident,  quas-Dsdella  tellus 
Parcior  oftentare  folet,  velutardua  mentis 
Afperita^,  fcopulive  exefi  pendulus  horror. 
Cura  tamen  femper  magna  eft  adhiberda  poefi, 
Atque  hie  cum  ratione  infaniat  author,  oportet : 
Et,  quamvis  veteres  pro  tempore  jura  rcfigant, 
Et  leges  violare  fuas  regaliter  audent, 
Tu  cavcas,  moneo,  quifquis  nunc  fcribis,  et  ipfam 
Si  legem  frangas,  memor  ejus  refpice  finem. 
Hoc  femper  tamen  evites,  riifi  te  gravis  urget 
Nodus,  prsemonftrantque  authorum  excmpla  prio- 

rum. 

Ni  facias,  criticus  totam  implacabilis  iram 
Exercet,  turpique  nota  tibi  nomen  inurit. 

Sed  non  me  latue're,  quibus  fua  liberiores 
Has  veterum  veneres  vitio  dementia  vertit. 
Et  quzdam  tibi  figna  quidem  monftrofa  videntur, 
Si  per  fe  vel  perpendas,  propiorave  luftres, 
Quae  K&a.  cum  conftituas  in  luce  locoque, 
formam  conciliat  diftantia  jufta  venuftam. 
Non  aciem  femper  belli  dux  callidus  artis 
Inftruit  asquali  ferie  ordinibuique  decoris, 
Sed  fe  temporibufque  locoque  accommodat,  agmen 
Celando  jam,  jamque  fugae  fimulachra  ciendo. 
Mentitur  fpeciem  erroris  fkcpe  aftus,  et  in/e 
Somniat  emundhis  judex,  non  donnit  Hornerus. 

Afpice,  laurus  adhuc  antiquis  vernat  in  aris, 
Quas  rabida  violare  manus  non  amplius  audent ; 
Flamrr.arum  a  rabie  tatas,  Stygixque  veneno 
Invidia,  martifque  minis  et  morfibus  xvi. 
Do&a  caterva,  vidett!  fcrt  ut  fragrantia  thura; 
Audin  ut  omnigenis  refonant  prsconia  linguis  ! 
JLaudcs  ufque  adeo  meritas  vox  qvixque  rependat, 
Humanique  fmitil  generis  chorus  omnis  adefto. 
Salvere,  O  vates !  nati  melioribus  innis, 
Muniis  et  iuimortale  sterna  laudis  adept! ! 
Queis  juvenefcit  houos  longo  matiirior  aevo, 

*  "  Neque  tam  fanifta-  funt  ifta  prsecepta,  fed 
hoc  quicquid  eft,  utiiitas  excogitavit ;  ncn  negabo 
autem,  fie  utile  eft  plerumque ;  verum  fi  eadem 
ilia  nobis  aliud  fuadebit  utiiitas,  hanc,  relid:is  ma- 
giftrormn  authoritatibus,  fequemur. 

(^UINT.  lib.  2-  cap.  13. 


Ditior  ut  diffundit  aquas,  dnm  defluit  amnis! 
Vos  populi  mundiquc  canent,  facra  nomnia,  quo* 

jam 

Inrentrix  (fie  diis  vifumeft)  non  contigit  ztas! 
Par.-,  aliqua,  o  utinam  !  facro  IcintiHet  ab  igne 
Illi,  qui  vcftra  eft  extrema  et  humiilima  proles ! 
(Qui  longe  fequitur  vos  debilioribus  alis 
Lecbcr  nuignanimus,  fed  enim,  fed  fcriptor  inau- 

djx) 

'Sic  critici  vani,me  prxcipiente,  priores 
Milan,  arbitrioque  fuo  diffidere  difcant. 

Omnibus  ex  caufis,  quje  aninium  corrumpcre 

jun<5li5 

Viribus,  humantimque  folent  obtundere  acumen, 
Pingue  caput  folita  eft  momento  impellere  fummo 
Stukitia  femper  cognata  fuperbia  ;  quantum 
Mentis  nafcenti  fata  invidere,  profufo 
Tantum  fubfidio  faftus  fuperaddere  gaudent ; 
Nam.  veluti  in  membris,  fie  faspe  anirnabus,  inane* 
Exundant  vice  *  fpirituum,  vice  fanguinis  auras 
Suppetias  inopi  venit  alma  fuperbia  menti, 
Atque  per  immenfum  capitis  fe  cxtendit  inane ! 
Quod  fi  refla  valent  ratio  hanc  difpergere  nubem 
Natura;  verique  dies  Cncera  refulget. 
Cuicunque  eft  animus  penitus  cognolcere  culpas, 
Nee  fibi,  nee  fociis  credar,  verum  omnibus  aurem 
Commodet,  apponatque  inimica  ojpprobria  lucro. 
Ne  mufse  invigilcs  mediocriter,  aut  fuge  fon- 

tem 

Caftalium  omnino,  aut  hauftu  te  prolue  pleno : 
Ifiius  laticis  tibi  mensabftemia  torpet 
Ebria,  fobrietafque  redit  revocata  Bibendo. 
Intuitu  mufc  primo,  novitateque  capta 
Afpirat  do&rinse.  ad  culmlna  fumnia  juventus 
Intrepida,  et  quoniam  tune  mens  eft  ardta,  fuoque 
Omnia,  metiur  modulo,  male  lippa  labores 
Pone  fecuturos  oculis  non  afpicit  aquis : 
Mox  autem  attonitje  jam  jamqtte  fcientia  menti 
Crebrefcit  variata  modis  fine  limite  miris ! 
Sic  ubi  defertis  confcendere  vallibus  Alpes 
Aggredimur.  nubefque  humiles  calcarx;  videniur, 
Proiiaus  jetemas  fuperaffe  nives,  et  in  ipfo 
Invcniffe  vise  latamur  limine  finem : 
Kis  vero  exadtis  tacito  fterrore  ftupemus 
Durum  crefcentem  magis  et  magis  ufque  Iaborem> 
Jam  longus  tandem  profpeclus  befa  fagitat 
Lumina,  dam  colics  affurgunt  undique  fzti 
Collibus,  impofiiseque  emergunt  Alpibu*  Alpes. 

f  Ingeniofa  leget  judex  perfetSus  eadem 
'Qua  vates  fcripfit  ftudiofiis  opufcula  cura, 
Totum  perpendet,  ccnforque  eft  parcus,  ubi  ardor 
Exagitat  naturse  animos  et  concitat  cftrum; 
N'ec  tam  fervili  generofa  libidine  mutet 
Gaudia,  quse  bibul;K  mcnti  catus  ingerit  author. 
Verum  ilagnant is  mediocria  carmina  mufse, 
Qure  reptant  fub  lima  et  certa  lege  ftupefcunt, 
Qu;c  torpent  uno  erroris  fecui  a  tenore, 
H.TC  equidem  ncqueo  culpare — et  dormio  tantum. 
Ingenii,  veluti  naturae,  non  tibi  conftant 
Illecebrx  forma  qux  certis  partibus  infit ; 
Nam  te  non  reddit  labiumve  oculufve  venuftum» 
Sed.  charitum  cumulus,  colledlaque  tela  decoris. 

*  Animalium  fcilicet. 

f  "  Diligcnter  legendum  eft,  ac  pcne  ad  fcriben- 
di  follicitudinem  ;  nee  per  partes  modo  ferutanda 
funt  cmnia  ;  fed  petledus  liber  utique  ex  integro 
rcfumeudus." 


POEMS. 


Sic  u!)i  luftntrms  perffftai*1  infigniter  stdern, 
(Qu?e  Romam  fplendore,  ipfumque  ita  pcrculit 

orberu) 

JLasta  dill  lion  ulla  inGmplii-e  parte  morantnr 
Lunnna,  fed  fefe  pfcrtotufn  eirantia  paftunt  ; 
Nil  longum  latncivc  nimis,  nil  altins  aequo 
Cernitur,  iiluftris  nitor  omnibus,  omnibus  ardo. 
Quod  cunfumrualum  eft  opus  omni  ejparte,  nee 

uiquam 

Nunc  exftat,  ilec  erat,  nee  erit  labemibus  annis. 
Quas  fibi  proponat  tnetas  adverte,  pfceta 
Uirra  aliquid  Iperare,  ilia;  fi  abiblvat.iniqnum  eft; 
Si  recta  ratione  utatur,  coniiiioqiie 
t'erfecto,  aiiilis  maculis,  vws  plautlite  clamo. 
Accidit,  ut  vates,  veluti  v'afer  Aulicusj  erret 
Soepius  errore'ii,  ut  vitet  graviora,  minorem. 
Neglige,  q>ias  criticus,  verborum  fatilis  anceps, 
Leges  cdicit  :  nugas  nefcire  decorum  eft. 
Artis  cujufdam  tantum  auxiliaris  arnantes 
Partem  aliquam  plerique  coiuiit  vice  totius;  illi 
Multa  crepunt  de  judicio,  nihiloniinus  iitam 
Stultitiam,  fuaquam  fententia  laudat,  adorant. 
Quixotus  quondam,  fi  veraeit  fabula,  cuiaam 
Occurrens  vati,  cnticum  ccrtauien  inivit 
Docta  citans,  graviterque  tuens,  tsnquam  arbiter 

alter 

DenniEus,  Graii  moderatiis  fraena  theatri  ; 
Acriter  id  dein  afleruit,  ftultura  effe  hcbetemque, 
Quii'quis  Ariftotelis  poiTet  contcmnere  leges. 
Quid  ?  —  talem  Comitern  naclus  feliciter  author, 
Mox  tragicum,  quod  compofuit,  proferre  poema 
Incipit,  et  eritici  fcitari  oracula  tanti. 
Jam  pvfiv,  TO.  fa.(v\,  r'ifn  -af^^.tift.a  Xvr;»que  et 
Cxtera  de  genere  hoc  equni  deicnbat  hianti 
Quae  cundla  ad  tiorman  quadrarenr,  inter  agendum 
Si  tantum  prudenscertaiKen  omitteret  author. 
*'  Quid  vero  certamen  omittes  ?  excipit  heros; 
Sic  venerahdo  Sophi  fuadent  documenta.    "  Quid 

ergo,  [pportft," 

Armigerumque  equitumque  rohors  fcenam  intret, 
Forfan,  at  ipfa  capcx  non  tanta;  fcena  catervas  eit  : 
"  GEJificave  aiiam  —  vel  apertes  utere  cainpis." 

Sic  ubi  fuppofito  morcfa  fuperbia  regnat 
Judicio,  criticseque  tenent  fartidia  curse 
Vana  locum,  curto  modulo  a;!timat  omnia  cenfor, 
Atque  modo  perveffus  in  artibus  errat  eodcm, 
Moiibus.ac  multi,  dum  patte  laboratin  una. 
Sunt,  qiii  nil  lapiant,  falibus  nifi  quaeque  redun- 

det 

Eigina,  perpetuoque  nitet  diftincla  lepore, 
Nil  aptum  Ibliti  juilumvc  requirere,  lale 
Si  rnicet  ingenii  chaos,  itidifcretaquc  moles. 
Nudas  natura;  venercs,  vivumque  decorem 
Fingere,  qui  nequeunt,  quorundam  exempla  fecuti 
Piclorum,  haud  gemmis  parcuut,  hand  fumptibus 

.anri, 

Ut  fefe  abfcondat  rutilis  infcitia  velis. 
Vis  veri  ingenii  *  natura  eft  cukior,.id  quod 
Senferunt  inulti,  fed  jarti  fcite  exprimit  unus, 
Quod  primo  pulchrum  intuitu,  tedlumque  videtur 
Et  mentis  menti  flmulachra  repercutit  ipfi. 
Haud  fecus  ac  luceni  commendant  fuaviter  umbrae, 
Ingenio  fie  fimplicitas  fuperaddit  honcrcm  : 


*  "  Nafuram  intueamur,  hanc  fequamur 
facillime  accipiuut  animi  quod  agnofcuut." 


id 

..  lib,  8.  cap.  J. 


Nafli  fieri  poflit  mnfa  ingcniofior  fcquft, 

£t  pereanttiiinid;E  nimio  tibi  .an^uiiie  vensc. 

Nonnulli  vero  verborum  in  cortice  ludui-.t, 
OrriatufqtH*  libri  folos  mulicbritrr  ardent.      '    [lis 
Egregiuni  ecCe  !  ftylum  clamant '.  fed  feinperocel- 
P:ztereunt  male,  ti  quid  ineft  r^tionis,  inui.clis. 
Verba,  velut  frondes,  nimio  cum  tegm.ne  onacant 
Ramos,  torpefcunt  mentis  fine  gerrnine.  Prava 
Rhetorice,  vitri  lav^  radiantis  ad  inil-tr 
Prumatici,  rutilos  diffundit  uhique  colores; 
Non  tibi  naturae  licet  amplius  era  tueri, 
At  mate  dilVretis  I'cintillant  omnia  flammis 
Sf-d  contra  veluti  jubar  imrriutabile  folis, 
Quicquid  contraclat  facundia,  luftrat  et  auget, 
iSil  variat,  fed  cur.fta  o'culo  fplendoris  iiiaurat. 
Eloquium  mentis  noftrae  quafi  veftis  habenda  eft, 
QUHJ  li  fit  fatis  apta,  decentior  inde  videtur  ; 
Scomrnata  magniticis  ornata  procacia  verbis 
Indutos  referunt  regalia  fyrmata  faunos  ; 
Diverfis  etenim  diverfa  vocabula  rebus 
Appingi  fas  eft,  aijla  velut  aulica  vellis, 
Aiteraque  agricolis,  atque  altera  congruit  urbi. 
Quidam  fcriptores  *  antiqiias  vocibus  ufi, 
Gioriolam  aficclant,  veterum  aemula  turba  fonu. 

runs, 

Si  mentem  fpecles  juvenentur  more  recentufn. 
Tantula  nugamenta  ftyloque  operofa  vetufto, 
Dofli  derident  foli  placitura  popello. 
Hi  nihilomage  felices  quam  comicus  ifte 
Fimgoib  f,  oftentat  abfurdo  pepla  tumore, 
Qualia  nefcio  quis  geftavit  nobilis  olim  ; 
Atque  modo  veteres  dodlos  imitantur  eodem, 
Ac  hominem  veteri  in  tunica  dum  fimia  ludit. 
Verba,  velut  mores,  a  juftis  legibus  errant, 
Si  riimium  antiquse  fuerint,  nimiumve  novatz; 
Tu  cave  ne  tentes  infueta  vocabula  pi  ioius, 
Nee  vetera  abjicias  poftremus  nomina  rerum. 

^  Lscvis  an  afpereat  verfus  plerique  requirunt 
Cenfores,  folofque  fonos  damnantve  probantvc  j 
Mille  licet  veneres  formofam  Pierin  ornent, 
Stultitia  vox  argut£  celebrabitur  una: 
Qni  juga  Parnaffi  non  ut  mala  corda  repurgent, 
Aunbus  lit  placeant,  vifunt :  fie  faepe  profanos 
liiipulit  ad  refonum  pietas  auritafacelium. 
His  lalum  criticis  femper  par  fyllaba  cordi  eft^ 
Vailo  etfi  ufque  omnis  j{  pateat  vocalis  hiatu ; 

*  "  Abolitaetabrogata  retinerc,  infolentiz  eu- 
jufuam  eft,  et  irivolje  in  parvis  jaclautia." 

QUINTIL.  lib',  i.  cap.  6. 

"  Opus  eft  ut  verba  a  vetuftate  repetita  neque 
crebra  fint,  neque  manifefta;  quia  nil  eft  odiofiu* 
affe<5latione,   nee  utique  ab  ultirnis  repetita  tem- 
poribus.      Oratio,  cu;us  fumma  virtus  eft  perfpi. 
cuitas;  quam  fi  vitiaia,  fi  egear  interpretc  ?  ErgO 
ut  novorum  optima  erunt  masiine  vetera,  ira  ve 
terum  maxime  nova."  IBID. 
f  Ben  Jonfon's  Every  Man  in  his  Harnour. 
J  "  Quis   populi  fermo    eft  ?  quis    enira  ?  nifl 

carmine  molli 

Nunc  demum  nnmero  fluere  ut  per  Izve  feverot 
Eflugit  junclura  ungues ;  fcit  tendere  verfum, 
NiC  fecus  ac  fi  oculo  rubricam  dirigat  uno." 

PEKSIUS,  fat.  f. 

I)  "  Fugemus  crebras    vocalium   concurfiones, 
QUW  vaftam  atque  Uiantem  orationem  reddunt." 

Cic.  AC  Hsftxvx.  lib.  4. 
N  ii»j 


233 


THE  WORKS   6F  SMART. 


Expletivaque  fajpe  fuas  quoque  fuppetias  dent, 
Ac  verfum  unum  oneret  levium  heu  I  decas  en  ! 

pigra  vocutn  ; 

Dum  non  mutato  refonant  male  cymbala  plandlu, 
Atque  augur  mifer  ufque  fcio,  quid  deinde  iequa- 

tur. 

Quacunque  afpirat  clementior  aura  Fanovi, 
Mox  (nullus  duhito)  graciles  vibrantur  ariftae, 
Rivulus  lit  molli  ferpit  per  laevia  lapfu,  [nos. 

Lector,  non  temere  expectes,  poft  murmura,  fom- 
Turn  demum  qua  late  extremum  ad  diftichon,  ipfa 
Magnificutn  fine  tneute  nihil,  Sententia  fplendet. 
Segnis   Hvpermeter,   audin?  adeft,  et  claudicat, 

inftar 

Anguis  faucia  terga  trahentis,  prorepentifque. 
Hi  proprias  ftupeant  nugas,  tu  difcere  tentes, 
<^uae  tereti  properant  ven&,  vel  amabil£  languent 
Iftaque  fac  laudes,  ubi  vivida  Dehhamii  vis 
"Wailerias  condita  fluit  dulcedine  mufse. 
Scribendi  numerofa  facultas  provenit  arte, 
Ut  foli  inceffu  faciles  fluitare  videntur, 
Pleftro  morigeros  qui  callet  fingere  greffus. 
Non  folum  afperitas  teneras  cave  verberet  aures, 
Sed  vox  quasque  expreffa  tuse  fit  mentis  imago. 
Lene  edat  Zephyrus  fufpiria  blanda,  politis 
Lsevius  in  numeris  labatur  Iseve  fluentum  ; 
At  reboat,  furit,  cftuat  aemula  mufa  fonoris 
Xiittoribus  cum  rauca  horrertdum  impingitur  unda 
Quando  eft  faxum  Ajaxvafta  vi  volvere  adortus, 
Tarde  incedat  verfus,  multum  perque  laborem. 
Non  ita  five  Camilla  cito  falis  aequcra  railt, 
Sive  levis  levitcrque  tent,  neque  ftecflit  an  ft  as. 
Airdin  !  Timothei  *  cceleftia  carmina,  menti 
Dulcibus  alloquiis  varios  fuadentia  motus  I 
Audin  !  ut  alternis  Lybici  Juvis  inclyta  proles 
Nunc  ardet  famam,  folos  nunc  fpirat  amores, 
Luminanunc  vivis  radiantia  volvere  flammis, 
MoXt'urtim  fufpiria,  mox  effundere  fletum  '. 
Dum  Perfie,  'Graeeique  pares  fentire  tumultus 
Difcunt,  viclricemque  lyram  rex  orbis  adorat. 
Mufica  quid  poterit  corda  ipfa  fatentur,  et  audit 
Timotheus  noltras  merita  cum  iaude  Drydenus. 

Tu  fervare  modum  ftudeasbene  cautus,  et  iftos 
Queis  aut  nil  placuiffe  potelt,  aut  omnia,  vites. 
Exiguavnafo  maculas  fufpendere  noli, 
Namque  patent  nullo  ftupor  atque  fuperbia  mentis 
Clariiis  indicio  ;  neque  roens  eft  optima  certe, 
Non  fecus  ac  itomachus,  qutecunque  recufat  et  odit 
Omnia,  difficilifque  nihil  tibi  concoquit  unquam. 
Non  tamen  idcirco  vegeti  vis  ulla  leporis 
Te  tibi  furripiat ;  mirari  mentis  ineptse  eft, 
Prudentis  vero  tantuai  optima  qujeque  probare. 
Majores  res  apparent  per  nubila  vife,. 
Atque  ita  luminibus  ftupoi;  ampliat  omnia  denfls. 

His  Galli  minus  arrident,  illifque  poetse 
Noftrates,  hodiemi  aliis,  aliifque  vetufti. 
Sic  f  fidei  fimile,  ingenium  feiflaj  arrogat  uni 
Quii'que  fuae ;  folig  patet  illis  janua  cceli 
Scilicet,  inque  malam  rem  cxtera  turbajubentur. 
•    Fruftra  autem  immenfis  cupiunt  imponere  metam 
Muneribus  Divium,  atque  illius  tela  coarclant 
Solis  hypefboreas  etiam  qui  temperat  auras, 
Non  folum  auftrales  genios  fcecundat  et  auget. 

*  Alexander's  Feaft,  or  the  Power  of  Mufic;  an 
ode  by  Mr.  Dryden, 
f  Chriilianx  iciiicet. 


Qui  primis  late  fua  lumlna  fparfit  ab  anni*, 
Illuftrat  praefens,  fummumque  accenderet  aevum. 
(Cuique  vices  varias  tamen  :  et  jam  fecula  fceclis 
Succedunt  pejora,  et  jam  meliora  perac"Hs) 
Pro  meritis  mufam  laudare  memento,  nee  unquam 
Neglige  quod  novitas  diftinguit,  quodve  vetuttas. 
Sunt  qui  nil  proprium  in  medium  proferre  fuc- 

runt, 

Judiciumque  fuum  credunt  popularibus  auris ; 
Turn  vulgi  quo  exempla  trahunt  retrahuntque  fe- 

quuntur, 

Tolluntque  expofitas  late  per  compita  nugas. 
Turba  alia  authorurn  titulos  et  nomina  difcit 
Scriptorefque  ipfos,  non  fcripta  examinat.  Horum 
Peflimus  ifte  cluet,  fi  quern  ferviliter  ipfos 
Vifere  magnates  ftupor  ambitiofus  adegit. 
Qui  critice  ad  menfum  domino  ancillatur  inepto, 
Futilis  ardelio,  femper  feferenfque  ferenfque 
Nuntia  nugarum.  Quam  pinguia,  quam  male  nata 
Carmina  cenfentur,  quaecunque  ego  forte  vel  ullus 
Pangere  ApolliiiK  tentat  faber  improhus  artis  1 
At  fiquis  vero,  fiquis  vir  magnus  adopter 
Felicem  mufam,  quantus  nitor  ecce  !  venufque 
Ingenio  accidunt '.  quam  prodigialiter  acer 
Fit  ftubito  ftylus!  omnigenam  venerabile  nomea 
Praetexit  facris  culpam  radiis,  et  ubique 
Carmina  culta  nitent,  et  pagina  parturit  omnis. 
Stultula  plebs  dodos  ftudiofa  imitarier  errat, 
Ut  doifti  nullos  imitai'.do  fsepius  ipfi ; 
Qui,  fi  forte  unquam  pleb.<  reclum  viderit,  (illis 
Tanto  turba  odio  eft)  confulto  lumina  claudunt. 
Talis  fchifmaticus  Chrifti,  grege  fsepe  relidlo, 
Ccelos  ingenii  pro  Iaude  pafcifcitur  ipfos. 

Non  delunt  qviibus  incertum  mutatur  in  boras 
Judicium,  fed  femper  eos  fententia  ducit 
Ultima  palantes.  Illis  miferanda  camzena 
More  meretricis  tradlatur,  uunc  Dea  certe, 
Nunc  audit  vilis  lupa  :  dum  praepingue  cerebrum, 
Debilis  et  male  munitse  ftationis  ad  inftar) 
Jam  redli,  jam  ftultitise  pro  partibus  aftat. 
Si  caufam  rogites,  aliquis  tibi  dicat  eundo 
Quifque  dies  tener»  prsebet  nova  pabula  menti, 
Et  fapimus  magis  atque  magis.     Nos  do&a  pro- 

pago 

Scilicet  et  fapiens  proavos  contemnimus  omnes, 
Heu  !  pariter  noftris  temnenda  nepotibus  olim. 
Quondam  per  noftros  dum  turba  fcholaftica  fines 
Regnavit,  fi  cui  quam  plurima  claufula  femper 
In  promptu,  ille  inter  dodtifllmus  audiit  omnes; 
Religioia  tides  fimul  ac  facra  omnia  nafci 
Sunt  vifa  in  litem  ;  fapuit  fat  nemo  reielli 
Ut  fe  fit  paflus.  Jam  gens  infulfa  Scotiftae, 
Intadlique  abaci  Thomiftae  pace  fruentes 
Inter  araneolos  pandunt  fua  retia  fratres. 
Ipfa  fides  igitur  cum  fit  variata,  quid  ergo, 
Quid  mirum  ingenium  quoque  fevaria  induat  ora  ? 
Naturae  verique  relic'lis  finibus  amens 
Saspius  infaiiire  parat  populariter  author, 
Expeclatque  fibi  vitalem  hoc  nomine  famam, 
Suppetit  ufque  fuas  plebi  quia  rifus  ineptse. 
Hie  folitus  propria  metirier  omnia  norma, 
Solos,  qui  fecura  funt  mente  et  partibus  iittiem 
Approbat,  ac  vanos  virtuti  reddit  honores, 
Cui  tantum  fibi  larvata  fuperbia  plaudit. 
Partium   in  ingenio  ftudium  quoque  reg-nat  aut 

aula, 
Seditioque  auget  privatas  publica  rixas. 


POEMS. 


Drydeno  obftafeant  odium  atque  fuperbia  nuper 
Et  ftupor  omnigena;  la  than*  lub  imagine  formas, 
Nunc  criticus,  nunc  beilus  homo,  mox  deinde  fa- 

cerdos : 

Attamen  ingenium,  joca  cum  filuere,  fuperfl.es 
Vivit  adhuc,  namque  olim  utcunque  fepulta  pro- 

fundis 

Pulchrior  emerget  tenebris  tamen  inclyta  virtus. 
Milbourni,  rurfus  fi  fas  foret  ora  tueri, 
Blackmoriquc  novi  reducem  infequeruntur ;  Ho- 

merus 

Ipfe  etiam  erigeret  vultus  fi  forte  verendos 
Zoilus  ex  orco  greffus  revocaret.     Ubique 
.  Virtuti  malus,  umbra  velut  nigra  livor  adhzret, 
Sed  verum  ex  vana  corpus  cognofcitur  umbra. 
Ingenium,  folis  jam  deficient  ad  inftar 
Invifum,  oppofiti  tenebras  tantum  arguit  orbis, 
Dum  claro  intcmerata  manent  fua  lumina  divo. 
Sol  prodit  cum  primum,  atque  intolerable  fulget 
Attrahit  obfcuros  flamma"  magnetc  vapores ; 
Mox  vero  pingunt  etiam  iuvida  nubila  callem 
Multa  coloratum,  et  crefcentia  nubila  fpargunt 
Uberius,  geminoque  die  viridaria  donant. 

Tu  primus  meritus  plaudas,  a  nihil  ipfe  meretur 
Qui  ferus  laudator  adeft.     Brevis  heu !  brevis  xvi 
Participes  noftri  vates  celebrantur,  et  aequum  eft 
Anguftam  quam  primum  afluefcaht  degere  vitam. 
Aurea  nimirum  jamdudum  evanult  retas, 
Cum  vates  patriarch*  extabant  mille  per  annos : 
Jam  fpes  deperiit  nobis  vita  altera,  famse, 
Noftraque  marcefcit  fexagenaria  laurus ! 
Afpicimus  nati  patriae  difpendia  linguae, 
.  Et  veftris  Chaucer,  olim  gcftanda  Drydena  eft. 
Sic  ubi  parturuit  tnens  dives  imagine  multi 
Pidtori,  calamoque  interprete  cocpit  acuti 
Concilium  cerebri  narrare  coloribus  aptis, 
Protinus  ad  nutum  novus  emicat  orbis,  et  ipfa 
Evolvit  manui  feie  natura  difertas ; 
Dulcia  cum  molles  cocunt  in  fcedera  fuel 
Tandem  inaturi,    iiquidamque    decenter    obum- 

brant 

Admiftis  lucem  tenebris,  et  euntibus  annis 
Quando  opus  ad  fummum  ptrdu&um  eft  culmen, 

et  undent 

Et  viva  forma;  extantes  fpirare  tabella : 
Perfidus  heu  !  pulchram  color  sevo  prodidit  artem, 
Egregiufque  decor  jam  nunc  fuit  omnis,  et  urbes, 
Et  fluvii,  pifftique  homines,  terrseque  fuerunt ! 
Heu  !  dos  Sngenii,  veluti  quodcunque  furore 
Cseco  profequimur,  nihil  unquam  muncris  adfert, 
Quod    redimat   comitem   invidiam !    juvenilibus 

annis 

Nil  nifi  inane  fophos  ja&amus,  et  efl*voluptas 
Vana,  brevis,  memento  evanuit  alitis  Korae  ! 
Flos  veluti  veris  peperit  quern  prima  juventus, 
Ille  viret,  periitque  virens  fine  falce  caducus. 
Quid  vero  ingeiiium  eft  quafo  ?    Quid  ut  illius 

ergo 

Tantum  infudemus  !  nonne  eft  tibi  perfida  conjux 
Qam  dcminus  veftis,  vicinia  tota  potita  eft  ; 
Quo  placuifle  magis  nobis  fors  obtigit,  inde 
Nata  magis  cura  eft.     Quid  enim?   crefcentibus 

almae 

Mufse  muueribus  populi  fpes  crefcit  avari. 
I^aus  ipfa  acquiri  cii  operofa,  et  lubrica  labi; 
Quin  quofdaiu  irritare  uec'efle^eff:  omnibus  au- 

tcm 


201 


Nequaquam  fecific  fatis  datur :  ingeniumque 
Expallet  vitium,  devitat  confcia  virtus, 
Stulti  omnes  odere,  feelefti  perJere  guadent. 

Quando  adeo  infcftam  fefe  iguorautia  prxftct, 
Abfit,  ut  ingenium  bello  doctrina  laceir.it  ! 
Pramia  propofuit  merits  olim  a»qua  vctuftas, 
Et  fua  laus  etiara  conatos  magno  lecutn  eft  ; 
Quanquam,  etenim  fortis  dux  folus  ovabat,   at 

ipfis 

Militibus  crines  pulchrae  impediere  corollas. 
At  tune  qui  bifidi  fuperarunt  improba  inontij 
Cubnina,  certatim  focios  detrudere  tentaM ; 
Scriptorem,  quid  enim !  dum  quemque  philanti* 

duck 

Zeletypum,  inftaurant  certamina  mutua  vates, 
Et  fete  alterni  ftultis  ludibria  prsebent. 
Pert  aegre!  alterius,  qui  peffimus  audit  honores, 
Improbus  improbuli  vice  fungitur  author  amici; 
En  fxdis  quam  fseda  vii*  mortalia  corda 
Cogit  perfequier  famz  malefuada  libido ! 
Ah !  ne  gloriole  ufque  adeo  fitis  impia  regnet, 
Nee  critici  affedans,  hominis  fimul  exue  nomen: 
Sed  candor  cum  judicio  conjuret  amice, 
Peccare  eft  hominum,  peccanti  ignofcere,  divum. 

At  vero  fi  cui  ingenuo  praecordia  bilis 
Non  defpumatse  fatis  acri  fcece  laborant, 
In  fcelera  accenfas  pejora  exerceat  iras, 
Nil  dubitet,  feget  prasbent  haec  tempora  largam, 
Obfcaeno  dctur  nulla  indulgentia  vati, 
Ars  licet  ingenio  fuperaddita  cerea  flecli 
PeClora  pelliciat.     Verum,   hercule,  jun<SU  fiu- 

pori 

Scripta  impura  par!  vano  molimine  prorfus 
Invalidam  xquiparant  eunuchi  turpis  amorem. 
Tune  ubi  regnavit  dives  cum  pace  voluptas 
In  noftris  flos  ifte  molus  caput  extulit  otis. 
Tune  ubi  rex  facilis  viguit,  qui  femper  uniore. 
Confiliis  raro,  nunquam  fe  exercuit  armis: 
Scripferunt  mimos  proceres,  meretricibus  aulz 
Succeflit  regimen ;  nee  non  magnatibus  ipfis 
Affuit  ingenium,  ftipendiaque  ingenisfis. 
Patricias  in  fccnis  fpecftavit  opufcula  mufx 
Multa  nurus,  lafciva  tuens,  atque  auribus  haufit 
Omnia  larvato  fecura  modeftia  vultu. 
Machina,  vlrginibus  quae  ventilat  ora,  pudicum 
Dedicit  claufa  officium,  ad  ludicra  cachinnus 
Increpuit,  rubor  ingenuus  nihil  amplius  arfit. 
Deinde  ex  externo  traducta  licentia  regno 
Audacis  faces  Socini  abforbuit  imai, 
Sacrilegique  facerdotes  turn  quemque  doccbant 
Conati  afficere.  ut  gratis  paradifon  adiret : 
Ut  populus  pntria  cum  libertate  facrati* 
Aflererent  fua  jura  locis,  no  fcilicit  unquam 
(Crediderim)    Omnipotens   foret   ipfe   potentior 

aequo. 

Templa  facram  fatiram  jam  turn  violata  filebant : 
Et  laudes  vitii,  vitio  mirante,  fonabant ! 
Accenfi  bine  mufae  Titanes  ad  aftia  ruerunt, 
Legeque  fancitum  quafllt  blafphemia  praelum. — 
Hasc  monftra,  O  critici,   contra  hxc  convcrtite 

telum, 

Hue  fulmen,  tonitruque  ftyli  torquete  feveri, 
Et  pcnitus  totum  obnixi  exonerate  furorcm  ! 
At  tales  fugias,  qui,  non  fiue  fraude  ieveri, 
Scripta  miilam  iu  partcm,  livore  interprete,  yer- 

tunt; 
P;a?is  omaia  prara  yideotur,  ut  oomia 


THE   WORKS  OF  SMART. 


I&ericus  proprU  ferrugine  tingit  occllu«. 

Jam  mores  critici  proprios,  adverte,  docebo  ; 
Dimidia  etenim  eft  tibi  fola  fcientia  virtus. 
Non  fatis  eft  ars,  ingenium,docT:rinaque  vires 
Quseque  fuas  jungant,  fi  non  quoque  candor  ho- 

neftis, 

Et  veri  fincerus  amor  fermonibus  infint. 
Sic  tibi  non  folum  quifqse  amplos  folvet  honores, 
Sed  tc,  qui  criticum  probat,  exoptabit  amicum. 

Mutus,  qusndo  animus  dubius  tibi  fiucluat,  efto ; 
Sin  tibi  confidis,  di&is  confide  prudenter. 
Quidam  hebetes  femper  perftant  erroribus ;  at  tu 
Prsteritas  laetus  culpas  fateare,  dies  que 
Quifque  dies  redimat,  criticoque  examine  tentet. 
Hoc  tibi  non  fatis  eft,  verum,  quod  praecipis, 

efle, 

Vcridici  mala  rufticitas  mage  faspe  molefla  eft 
Auribas,  ingenuam  quam  verba  ferentia  fraudent ; 
Uon  ut  praceptor,  cave  des  prccepta,  reique 
Jgnarcs,    tanquam   immemores,    catus    inftrue  : 

verax     • 

Ipfe  placet,  fi  non  careat  candore,  ncc  ullos 
Judiciam,  urbanis  quod  fulget  moribus,  lirit. 

Tu  nulli  invideas  monitus,  rationis  avarus 
Si  fis,  prae  reliquis  fordes  miferandus  avaris. 
Ne  vili  obfequio  crhicorfcm  jura  refigas, 
Nee  fer  judicium  nimis  officiofus  iniquum ; 
Prxidentem  haud  irritabis  (ne  finge)  monendo, 
Qui  laude  eft  digtras  patiens  culpabitur  idem. 

Confultum  melius  criticis  foret,  ilia  manerct 
Si  nunc  culpandi  libertas.     Appius  autem, 
Ecce  !    rubet,    quoties    loqucris,    torvoque    tre- 

mendus 

Intuitu,  reddit  faevi  trucia  ora  gigantis 
Jam  picta  in  veteri  mage  formidanda  tapete. 
Fac  mittas  tumidum  tituloque  et  ftemmate  ftul- 

tum, 

Cui  quaedafn  eft  data  jure  licentia  fsepe  ftupendi ; 
Tales  et  libitum  vates  abfqae  indole,  eadem. 
Qua  fine  do<Slrina  do&ores  lege  creantur. 
Contemptis  prudens  fatiris  res  Innjue  tacendas, 
Affcntatorumque  in  amen  exerceat  af  tern, 
Nominibus  libros  magnis  gens  gnara  dicandi ; 
Quaj  cum  mendaci  laudes  efFutiat  ore, 
Non  magne  cfedenda  eft,  quam  quando  perjerat 

olim 

Non  iteram  pingues  ufiquam  confcfibere  verfus. 
Non  raro  eft  fatius  bilem  cohibere  ftrcfcas, 
Humanufque  finas  habetem  fibi  plaudere :  prudens 
1  lie  taceas  moneo,  nihil  indignatio  prodeft, 
J'eiTus  eris  culpando,  ea  gens  haud  feffa  canendo: 
Nam  temnens  ftiiVinlos,  tandum   cum   murmure 

curfum 

Continuat,  donee  jam  tandem,  tnrbinis  inftar 
Vapulet  in  torporcm,  et  femper  eundo  quiefcat. 
Talibus  ex  lapfu  vis  eft  reparata  frequenti, 
Ut  tardi  fitubata  urgent  veftigia  mani. 
Horurn  pleraque  pars!  cui  nulla  amentia  defit, 
Tinnitu  numerorum  et  amore  fcnefcit  inani, 
Ferftat  difficili  catmen  deducer ;  vena, 
Donee  inexhaufto  reftat  fex  ulla  cerebro, 
Relliquias  ftillat  vix  expreffse  male  mentis, 
Et  miferam  invalida  exercet  prurigine  mufam. 

Sunt  nobis  vates  hoc  de  grege,  fed  tamcn  idem 
Affirmo,  eriticorum  ejufdcm  fortis  aburide  eft. 
Helluo  librorum,  qui  fudat,  hebetque  Icgendo, 
Cui  mens  rjugwurri  db^ta  fan  agi 


Attemas  propriz  voci  maU  recreat  atires, 

Auditorque  li'yi  lolus  uiiier  ipfc  vidctur. 

llle  omnes  legit  authores,  omnefque  laceffit       t 

Durfeio  infeftus  pariter  magnoque  Dryder.o. 

Judice  fub  tali  femper  faratur,  emitve 

Quifque  fuum  bonus  author  opus :  non  Garthnif 

71  *  (iiii 

Si  credas)  proprium  contextuit  ipfe  pocma. 
In  fccnis  neva  fi  cocemdia  agatur,  •'  amicus 
"  Hujus  fcriptor  (ait)  mcus  eft,  cui  non  ego 

"  paucas 

"  Oftendimacolas;  fed  niens  eft  nulla  poetis." 
Non  locus  eft  tarn  fanftus,  ut  hu-nc  expellere  poffit, 
Nee  templum  in  tute  eft,  plufquam  via ;  quin  pete 

facras 

Aufugiens  aras,  e!  ad  aras  ifte  fequctur 
Occidetque  loquendo ;  etenim  ihiltus  ruet  ult»» 
Nil  metuens,  nbi  ferre  pedem  vix  angelus  audet. 
Diflldit  fibin>et  fapientia  canta,  brevefque 
Excurfus  tentans  in  fe  fua  lumina  vertit ; 
Stultitia  at  prsceps  violento  vortice  currit 
Non  unquam  tremefacla,  nee  unquam  e  tramite 

cedens, 
Flumine  falmineo  fe  totam  invi<9a  profundit. 

Tu  vero  quifnam  es  monita  inftillare  peritus, 
Qui,  quod  fcis,  laetus  monftras,  neque  fcire  fa- 

perbis, 

Non  odio  dudtus  pravove  favore,  nee  ulli 
Additfius  fecT:£e,  ut  pecces,  neque  coecus,  ut  erres ; 
Dodtus,  at  urbanus,  fincerns,  at  aulicus  idem, 
Adadterque  pndens  mediaque  humanus  in  ira. 
Qui  nunquam  dubites  vel  amico  oftendere  culpas, 
Et  celebres  inimicum  haud  parca  laude  merentem. 
Furgato  ingenio  felix,  led  et  infinite-, 
Et  quod  librorumque  hominnmqne  fcientia  ditat; 
Colloquium  cui  come,   animus  fumiuiffus  ct  in- 

gens, 

Laudandiq«e  omnes,  ratio  cum  praeciptt,  ardor  ! 
Tales  extiterunt  critici,  quos  Grsecia  quondam 
Romaque  mirata  eft  natos  melioribus  annis. 
Primus  Ariftotdes  eft  aufus  folvere  navcm, 
Atque  datis  velis  vaftum  explorafe  profundum. 
Tutus  iit  longique  ignotas  attigit  ofas 
Lumina  Ma^onia:  obfervans  radiatttia  ftello;. 
Jam  vates,  gens  illu,  diu  quae  lege  folut'a  eft, 
Et  faevfe  capta  eft  male  libertatis  amore, 
Laetantes  domfmim  accipiunt,  atque  omBis  eddem 
Qui  domuit  naturam,  exultat  prefide  mufj. 

Nufquam  non  grata  eft  incuria  comis  Horati, 
Qui  nee  opinantes  nos  erudit  abfqui  magiilro. 
llle  fuas  lege?,  affabilis  inftar  amici 
Quam  veras  fimul  et  quam  claro  more  profundifr ! 
Hie  licet  tam  judicio  quam  divite  vena 
Maximus,  audacem  criticum,  non  fcriptor  inaudax 
Prfeftaret  fe  jure,  tamen  fedatus  ibidem 
Cenfor,  ubi  cecinit  divino  concitus  aftro, 
Carmrnibufque  eadem  infptrat,  qua:  tradidit  Arte. 
Noftrates  homines  plane  in  contraria  currunt, 
Turba,  ftylo  vehemens  critico,  fed  frigida  Phrebo; 
Nee  male  vertendo  Flaccum  torfere  poctae 
Abfurdi,  mage  quam  critici  fine  mente  citando; 
Afpice,  ut  expoliat  numeros  Dionyfi'us  *  ipii 
Mxonldx  venerefquc  accerfat  ubique  recentes ! 
Conditam  ingenio  jaclat  Petronius  artem, 
Cui  doclrina  fcholas  redolet  fimul  et  fapit  aularu 

*  Dionyfius  of  HalicarnaffiB, 


POEMS. 


Cam  docli  Fabii  cumulata  volutnina  verfas, 
Optima  perfpicua  in  ferie  documenta  videre  eft, 
i  Haud  fecus  utilia  ac  apothecis  condimus  arma, 
Ordine  perpetuo  fita  juncluraque  decora, 
•Kon  modo  ut  obtineat  quo  fefe  oble<£let  ocellus, 
Verum  etiani  in  promptu,  quando  venit  ufus,  ha- 
benda  [maense, 

Te  folum  omnigenae  infpirant,  Longine,  Ca- 
Et  propriam  penitus  tibi  mentem  animumque  de- 

derunt ; 

i  En  !  tibi  proprofiti  criticum  fideique  tanecem, 
<^ui  vehemus  fua  jura,  fed  omnibus  aequa  mini- 

ftrat; 

<Juo  probat  exemplo,  quas  tradit  acumine  leges, 
Semper  fabliau  fubHmior  argumcnto  ! 

Succeflere  diu  fibi  tales,  pulfaque  fagit 
•Barbara  prsefcriptas  exofa  licentia  leges. 
Roma  perpetuo  crefcente  fcientia  crevit, 
Atque  artes  aquilarum  equitare  audacibus  alis ; 
Sed  tandem  fuperata  lifdem  vicloribus  uno 
Roma  triumphata  eit  mufis  comitantibus  xvo. 
Dira  fuperftitio  et  comes  eft  bacchata  tyrannis, 
Et  limul  ilia  animos,  hiec  corpora  fub  juga  mifit 
Credita  ab  omnibus  omnia  funt,  fed  cognita  nullis, 
Et  ftupor  eft  aufus  titulo  pietatis  abuti  1 
Obruto  diluvio  fie  eft  doclrina  fecundo, 
Jit  Monachis  finita  Gothorum  exorfa  fuerunt. 

At  vero  tandem  memorabile  nomen  Erafmus, 
{Cuique  facerdoti  jactandus,  cuiqui  pudendus) 
Barbarize  obnixus  torrentia  tempora  vincit, 
Atque  Gothos  propriis  facros  de  finibus  arcet. 

At  Leo  jam  rurfus  viden'ourea  fecula  condit, 
Sertaque  neglectis  revirefcunt  laurca  mufis ! 
AntiquusRom*  Genius  de  pulvere  facro 
Attollit  fublime  caput.     Tune  ccepit  amari 
Sculotura  atque  artes  focise,  caelataque  rupes 
Vivere,  et  in  pulchras  lapides  mollei'cere  formas  ; 
Divinam  harmoniam  furgentla  templa  fonabant, 
Atque  ftylo  et  calamo  Raphael  et  Vida  *  vige- 

bant; 

Illuftris  vates !  cui  lanrSa  ferta  poet» 
Intqrtexta  hederis  critici  geminata  refulgent ; 
Jarrique  aequat  claram  tibi,  Mantua  Vida  Cre- 

monam, 
Utque  loci,  fie  Temper  erit  vicinia  famas. 

Mox  autem  profugse  metuentes  improba  mufz 
Arma,  Italos  fines  linquunt,  inque  Arclica  mi 
grant 

Littora;  fed  criticam  fibi  Gallia  vendicat  artem. 
Gens  ullas  leges,  docilis  fervire,  capeffit, 
Boiloviufque  vices  domini  gerit  acer  Horatl. 
At  fortes  fpernunt  prxcepta  exerna  Britanni, 
Moribus  indomiti  quoque  ;  nam  pro  jure  furendi 
Angliacus  pugnat  genius,  Romamque  magiftram, 
Romanumque  jugum  femper  contemnere  pergit. 
At  vero  jam  turn  non  defuit  unus  et  alter 
Corde,  licet  tumefacta  minus,  magis  alta  gerentes, 
Ingenii  partes  veri  ftudiofa  fovendi 
Inque  bafi'antiqua  leges  et  jura  locandi. 
Talis,  qui  cecinit  dodlrinse  exemplar  et  author, 

*  Hieronymus  Vida,  an  excellent  Latin  poet, 
who  writ  an  art.  of  poetry  in  verfe.  He  flourifh- 
«d  in  the  time  of  Leo  X. 


44  Ars  ben«   fcribendi  naturae   eft  fomnu   po- 

44  teftas  f." 

Talis  Rofcommon— bonus  et  doclifilmus  idem, 
Nobilis  ingenio  mage  nobilitatus  honefto ; 
Qui  Graios  Latiofque  authores  novit  ad  nnguem, 
Dum  veneres  texit  pudibunda  induftria  privas. 
Talus  Walfliius  ille  fuit — jude*  et  amicus 
Mufarum,  cenlurse  aequus  laudifque  minifter, 
Mitis  peccantum  cenfor,  vehemenlque  merent'int 
Laudator,  cerebrum  fine  mendo,  et  cor  fine  fuco1. 
Haec  faltem  accipias,  lacrymabilis  umbra,  liciber, 
Haec  debet  mea  mufa  tax  munufcula  famae. 
Ilia  eadem,  infantem  cujus  tu  fingere  vocem, 
i'u  monftrare  viam ;  horridulus  conponere   plu- 

mas 

Tu  faepe  eft  folitus— duce  jam  miferanda  remoto 
Ilia  breves  humili  excurfus  molimine  tentat, 
Nee  jam  quid  fublime,  quid  ingens  araplius  audet. 
lili  hoc  jam  fatis  eft— fi  hinc  turba  indoda  do- 

cetur, 

Docla  recognofcit  ftudii  veftigia  prifci: 
Cenfuram  baud  curat,  famam  mediocriter  adet, 
Culpare  intrepida,  at  laudis  tamen  sequa  miniftra ; 
Haud  ulli  prudens  aflentaturve  notetve ; 
Se  demum  mendis  hand  immunem  efle  fatetur, 
At  neque  faftidit  lima,  quando  indiget,  uti. 

STANZAS,  IN  A  SONG  TO  DAVID. 


SUBIIME  invention,  ever  young, 
Of  vaft  conception,  tow'ring  tongue 

To  God  th'  eternal  theme  ; 
Notes  from  yon  exaltation  taught, 
UnrivaU'd  royalty  of  thought, 

O'er  meaner  ftrains  fupreme. 

His  mufe,  bright  angel  of  his  verfe, 
Gives  balm  for  all  the  thorns  that  pierce, 

For  all  the  pangs  that  rage ; 
Bleft  light,  ftill  gaining  on  the  gloom, 
The  more  than  Michael  of  his  gloom 

Th'  Abifhag  of  his  age. 

He  fung  of  God,  the  mighty  fource 
Of  all  things,  thejftupendous  force 

On  which  all  ftrength  depends, 
From  whofe  right  arm,  beneath  whofe  eye» 
All  period,  power,  and  enterprife 

Commences,  reigns,  and  ends. 

The  world,  the  cluft'ring  fpheres  he  mad?, 
The  glorious  light,  the  foothing  (hade, 

Dale,  champaign,  grove,  and  hill, 
The  multitudinous  abyfs 
Where  fecrecy  remains  in  blifs, 

And  wifdom  hides  her  (kill. 

Tell  them,  I  AM,  Jehovah  faid 

To  Mofes ;  while  earth  heard  in  dread, 

And,  fmitten  to  the  heart, 
At  once  above,  beneath,  around 
All  nature,  without  voice  or  found 
Replied,  O  Lord,  THOU  ART. 

f  Effay  on  poetry,  by  the  Duke  of  Buckinghra. 


O  B 


JOHN  LANGHORNE,   D.  D 


Containing 


VISION  OF  FANCT, 

OENIUS  AND  VALOUR, 

THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF  THE  MIHD, 

TABLES  OF  FLORA, 

PRECEPTS  OF  CONJUGAL  HAPPINESS, 

VERSES  IN  MEMORY  OF  A  LADY, 

COUNTRY  JUSTICE, 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  VEIL, 

OWEN  OF  CARRONj 

ODES, 

ELEGIES, 

IPISTLES, 

SONNETS, 

TSANSLATIOH*, 


&C.   tSV. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE  LIFE,   OF  'THE  AUTHOR. 


A  mufe  that  lov'd  in  nature's  walks  to  ftray, 
And  gather'd  many  a  wild  flower  in  her  way ; 
To  nature's  friend  her  genuine  gifts  would  brinj, 
The  light  amufements  of  life's  vacant  fpring. 
The  friends  of  Ptpe  indulge  her  native  lays, 
And  Ghucefler  joins  with  Lyttlcton  to  praife. 
Each  judge  of  art,  her  ftrain,  though  artlefs,  loves; 
And  Sbenfone  fmil'd,  and  poliflj'd  Hard  approves. 

VERSES  TO  THE  HON.  CHARLES  TOSKC. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  JMVtfDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAIi  BANK  CLOSJE, 


Ann*  I79J. 


THE  LIFE  OF  LANGHORNE. 


Or  the  perfona!  hiftory  of  LANGHORNE,  the  prefent  writer  is  forry  that  the  information  he  hai 
obtained  i?  fo  fcanty,  that  he  muft  give  his  life  to  the  world  much  more  briefly  than  his  rank  in  li 
terature  and  poetry  deferves. 

John  Langhorue  was  born  at  Kirkby-Stephen,  on  "  the  banks  of  the  Eden,"  in  Weftmoreland,  as 
appears  from  Burn's  "  Hiftory  of  Wdtmoreland,"  Vol.  I.  p.  549,  his  Ode  to  the  River  Bden,  and  his 
Stanzas  to  the  Genius  of  Weftmoreland,  in  the  EJfuJions  of  friendfljip  and  Fancy,  Vol.  I.  let.  25.  The 
year  of  his  birth  is  not  afcertain'ed.  His  father  was  the  Rev.  Jofeph  Langhorne  of  Winfton;  who, 
dying,  when  he  was  young,  left  him  and  his  brother  William  to  the  care  of  his  mother,  whofe  virtues 
he  has  commemorated  in  his  Monody  on  her  death,  1759. 

Source  of  my  life,  that  led  my  tender  years 

With  all  a  parent's  pious  fears, 
That  nurs'd  my  infant  thought,  and  taught  my  mind  to  grow. 

The  place  of  his  education  is  unknown,  nor  does  it  appear  from  what  feminary  he  obtained  the 
academical  honours  by  which  he  was  diftinguiihed.  Hi»  name  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  lift  of  gra 
duates  either  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge. 

From  foma  circumftances  which  may  be  collected  from  his  poems,  he  feems  to  have  refuted,  be 
tween  the  years  17^6  and  1758,  near  Studley,  in  Yorkshire.  His  Elegy  'written  among  the  Ruins  of 
fontefrafl  Ca/lle,  is  dated  1756,  and  his  Verfes  left  iyith  the  MinJfter  of  Rjpendon,  are  dated  1758. 

The  firft  notice  we  find  of  him  as  an  author  was  in  1758,  when  feveral  pieces  of  poetry,  written 
by  him,  were  inferted  in  "  The  Grand  Magazine,"  a  periodical  work,  published  by  Mr.  Ralph 
Griffiths,  the  proprietor  of  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  which  continued  only  three  years. 

His  firft  publication  was  The  Death  of  Adonis,  a  Pajloral  Elegy,  from  Bion,  410,  1759  ;  which  was 
followed  in  the  fame  year,  by  The  Tears  of  Mujic,  a  Poem  to  the  Memory  of  Mr.  Handel,  with  an 
Ode  to  the  River  Eden,  4to. 

After  entering  into  holy  orders,  he  became  tutor  to  the  fons  of  Robert  Cracroft,  Efq.  of  Hack- 
thorne,  in  Lincolnihire  ;  and  publifhed  at  Lincoln  a  volume  of  Poems  OH  Several  Occa/ions,  410, 1760, 
for  the  benefit  of  a  gentleman.  In  the  preface  to  this  volume,  he  fays,  "  If  any  one  into  whofe 
hands  this  work  may  fall,  fliould  be  diffatisfied  with  his  purchafe,  let  him  remember  that  they  are 
publifhed  for  the  relief  of  a  gentleman  in  diftrefs;  and  that  he  has  not  thrown  away  five  Shillings 
in  the  purchafe  of  a  worthlefs  book,  but  contributed  fo  much  to  the  afliftance  of  indigent  merit.  I 
had  rather  have  my  readers  feel  that  pleafure  which  arifes  from  the  fenfe  of  having  done  one  vir 
tuous  deed,  than  all  they  can  enjoy  from  the  works  of  poetry  and  wit."  The  fame  year  he  pu. 
bliflied  a  Hymn  to  Howe,  410. 

In  1760,  he  was  at  Clarehall,  Cambridge,  and  wrote  a  poem  on  the  acceflion  of  his  prefent  Ma- 
jefty,  and  the  year  following,  an  Ode  on  the  royal  nuptials,  printed  in  the  Cambridge  collection  of 
verfes,  and  afterwards  in  Sotyrnan  and  Almetia. 

Soon  after,  he  removed  to  London,  engaged  as  a  writer  in  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  efpoufed  the 
intereft  of  Lord  Bute,  and  became  a  frequent  and  fucccfeful  publifher  of  various  performances  in 
profe  and  verfe. 

In  1762,  he  published  The  Viceroy,  a  panegyrical  poem,  addrefled  to  the  Earl  of  Halifax,  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Ireland;  which  was  followed,  in  the  fame  year,  by  Solyman  find  Almena,  umo,  an 
eaftern  tale  j  Letters  on  Religious  Retirement,  Melancholy,  and  Enthvfiafm,  8vo;  and  The  Vifionr 
sf  Fancy,  infotir  Elegies. 

In  1763,  he  flood  forth  in  defence  of  Scotland,  fo  rudely  attacked  by  Churchill,  in  his  celebrated 
Prophecy  of  Famine,  and  published  Genius  aflA  Valtn:r,  a  Ptforal  Poem,  written  in  Honour  of  * 


aeS  THE  LIFE  OF  LANGHORNE". 

Sifter-Kingdom,  4to.  This  poem  is  "  infcribed  to  the  Earl  of  Bute,  as  a  teftimony  of  refpedr.  from 
an  impartial  Englifhman." 

The  fame  year  he  published  The  Effujions  of  Friend/kip  and  Fancy,  infeveral  Letters  to  and  from 
SeleS  Friends,  a  vols,  iamo;  The  Letters  that  pajjed  between  Theodofius  and  Confttntia,  after  Jbe 
had  taken  the  veil,  noivfirjl  publijljedfrsm  tie  Original  Manufcripts,  with  a  dedication  to  War- 
barton,  1 2mo  ;  and  The  Enlargement  of  the  Mind,  Epijlle  I,  to  General  Craivfurd,  written  at  Belvi- 
dere,  near  Uartford  in  Kent,  410.  The  fecond  edition  of  the  Fffuftons,  was  publiflied  in  1766,  with 
alterations  and  additions. 

His  connection  with  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  and  the  defire  he  had  fliown  of  difeountenancing 
the  prejudices  of  the  times,  and  of  teftifying  his  refpecl  for  the  character  of  Lord  Bute,  in  his  Genius 
and  Valour,  expofed  him,  with  Dr  Francis  and  Mr.  Murphy,  to  the  cenfure  of  Churchill,  in  the 
following  lines  of  "  The  Candidate." 

Why  may  not  Langhorne,  fimple  in  his  lay, 

Ejfujion  on  Effufion  pour  away  ; 

With  Friendjlnp  and  with  Fancy  trifle  here, 

Or  deep  in  Pa/ioral  at  Befoidere  ? 

Sleep  let  them  all  with  dulnefs  on  her  throne, 

Secure  irom  any  malice  but  their  own. 

In  1764,  he  p'nbliflied  Sermont,  ^  vols,  tamo. 

Having  dedicated  the  Lettert  of  Theodofius  and  Conflantia  to  Warburton,  he  became  known  t* 
that  eminent  prelate,  by  whofe  intereft,  it  may  be  prefumed,  he  was,  in  December  1765,  appoint' 
cd  alfiltant  preacher  at  Lincoln's-lnn. 

The  lame  year,  he  publifhed  The  Correfpondence  between  fheodojint  and  Conftantia,from  their  Jir/l 
acquaintance,  to  the  Departure  of  Theodojius,  i  imo,  with  a  poetical  dedication  to  Coleman  ;  The 
Poetrtal  Works  of  Mr.  William  Collins,  'with  Memoirs  of  the  Author,  and  Obfervations  on  his  Ge 
nius  and  Writings,  izmo  ;  letters  on  the  Eloquence  of  the  Pulpit ,  8vo  ;  The  Enlargement  of  the 
Mind,  Epiftle  II.  to  IVillimm  Langhorne,  M.  A.  410. 

His  brother,  to  whom  he  infcribed  this  Epijlle,  was  himfelf  a  poet,  and  publiflied  "  Job,  a  Poem," 
4to,  1 76®,  and  "  A  poetical  Paraphrafe  on  ibsne  part  of  Ifaiah,"  4to,  tj6i.  The  habitudes  of  early 
affection  feem  to  have  been  improved,  by  a  firnilarity  of  tafte  and  purfuits,  into  a  friendfliip  of  un 
common  ardour  and  fincerity. 


•  thou  partner  of  my  life  and  name, 


From  one  dear  fource,  whom  nature  form'd  the  fame, 

Ally'd  more  nearly  in  each  nobler  part, 

And  more  the  friend  tha,n  brother  of  my  heart ! 

In  1766",  he  publifhed  his  Poetical  Works,  in  i  vols,  nmo,  with  a  poetical  dedication  to 
Charles  Yorke.    This  collection,  included  the  pieces  formerly  printed  feparately,  and  The  Fatal 
frophecy,  *  Dramatic  Poem,  in  five  acts,  written  in  1765. 

The  fame  year,  among  other  fuccefsful  writers,  he  fell  under  the  cenfure  of  Kelly,  on  account  of 
fome  criticifms  imputed  to  him  in  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  in  the  following  harm  and  illiberal  in 
vective  inl  his  "  Thefpis,  or  Examination  into  the  Merits  of  the  Principal  Performers  at  Dru. 

jry-Lane."  410 

Triumphant  dunce,  illuftrious  Langborne,  rife, 
And  while  whole  worlds  deteft  thee  and  defpife, 
With  rage  uncommon,  cruelly  deny 
Thy  haplefs  mufe,  ev'n  privilege  to  die ; 
"While  Theodofius.  bafely  torn  from  night, 
Reeks,  fefters,  (links,  and  putrifies  te  fight, 
And  mad  Conftantia  damns  thy  recreant  name, 
To  drive  with  Flecknoe  down  the  (ink  of  fame. 
Say,  with  what  charm,  what  magic  art  thou  bleft> 
That  grief  or  fliame  ne'er  rankle  in  thy  breaft  ;] 
That  ev'n  mere  inftincl  never  points  a  way' 
To  fly  from  man,  and  refuge  from  the  day  ? 
Ne'er  kindly  tells  thee  of  fome  pitying  £rave, 
To  fnatch  the  blockhead,  and  to  hide  the  (lave  ?--• 
Oh  !  that  like  Langharne,  with  a  blumlefs  face, 
I  bore  the  ftroke  of  merited  difgrace ; 


Like  h.im,  with  ibme  fine  apathy  of  foul, 
I  flood  the  thunder  in  its  mightieft  roll, 
Smil'cl  when  the  bolt  Indignantly  was  hurl'd, 
Or  gap'd  nnconfcious  on  a  fcorning  world  ! 
Then  could  I  View,  w.ith  temper  in  my  look, 
The  juft  damnation  of  a  favourite  book; 
Could  fee  my  labours,  with  unaching  eye, 
Form  the  grand  outwork  of  a  giblet-pye, 
Pil'd  in  nice  order  for  the  fuburb  ftalls, 
Or  fent  in  carts  to  Clement's  at  St.  Paul's,' 
Then  the  fharp  cenfure,  or  the  biting  jeer, 
H.ad  fall'n  all-blunted  on  my  nervelefs  ear  ; 

And  leagu'd  perhaps  with I  might  ftan.4, 

To  fave  or  damn  at  random  through  the  land  ; 
To  blaft  each  work  of  excellence  e'er  known, 
And  write  eternal  praifes  of  my  own. 

About  this  time,  he  obtained  or  purchafed  the  valuable  Rectory  of  Blagdon  in  Somerfetfhire,  anjf 
was  appointed  a  Prebendary  of  Wells.  He  was  alfo  in  theCommifllon  of  the  Peace  for  the  county 
of  Somerfet,  anddiftinguifhed  himfelf  as  an  active  arid  ufeful  magistrate. 

On  the  i£th  of  January  1767,  he  married  Mifs  Cracroft,  filter  of  his  former  pupils ;  but  his  pro- 
fpects  of  happinefs  from  his  union  with  this  lady  were  foon  clouded  by  her  death,  in  childhed  of  a 
daughter. 

This  mournful  event  occafioned  his  pathetic  l^erfes  to  the  Memory  of  a  Lady;  written  at  Sandgate 
Cajlle,  1768, 4to.  The  death  of  his  beloved  wife  was  alfo  lamented  by  two  of  hii  friends ;  Mr  Cart- 
wright,  in  a  poem  called  "  Conftantia,"  and  Mr.  Abraham  Portal,  in  fome  elegiac  verfes  printed  in 
his  works. 

In  the  fame  month  that  proved  fatsl  to  this  amiable  perfon,  died  alfo  in  childbed  the  firft  wife  of 
Scott,  the  poet  of  Amwell,  who  folaced  his  forrow,  by  compofing  an  "  Elegy"  to  the  memory  of 
one  who  had  been  dear  to  him  ;  a  copy  of  which  he  fent  to  Langhorne.  This  fimilarity  of  circum- 
ftance  ar.d  congenial  affliction  gave  rife  to  a  friendfhip  between  thefe  two  poets,  which,  though  they 
rarely  correfponded,  and  more  rarely  met,  continued  without  abatement  till  the  death  of  Langhorne. 

The  fame  year,  Shaw  publifhed  his  celebrated  "  Monody1*  on  the  death  of  his  wife ;  which  occa- 
fioning  fome  fevere  lines  in  a  newfpaper,  which  were  imputed  to  Langhorne,  they  produced  a  paper 
war  between  the  two  poets,  which  was  (Conducted  very  liberally  on  either  fide. 

In  1768,  he  publifhed  Precepts  of  Conjugal  Happinefs  ;  a  poem  addreffed  to  his  fifter-in-law,  on 
her  marriage,  4fo. 

About  this  time,  he  added  the  title  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  to  his  nlme,  which  he  probably  obtained 
from  the  Archbifhop  of  Canterbury. 

In  1769,  he  published  Frederick  and  Phatdmorid,  or  the  Confolations  of  Human  Lift,  nVno;  and 
Letters  fuppofed  to  h.vve  pa/cd  between  M.  de  St.  Evremond  and  Mr.  Waller,  a  vols,  rimo. 

The  year  following,  he  publifhed,  in  conjunction  with  his  brother,  Plutarch' 'i  Lives,  tranjlatedfrom 
the  Original  Greek,  with  Notet  Critical  arid  Explanatory,  and  a  New  Life  of  Plutarch,  in  6  vols,  8vo. 

In  1771,  hepublilhed  The  Tables  of  Flora,  410 ;  and  having  intermitted  his  intercourfe  with  the 
prefs  for  one  year,  he  published,  in  1773,  The  Origin  of  the  Veil,  a  poem,  4to;  and  A  Di/ertation, 
Hijioriral  and  Political,  on  the  Ancient  Republics  of  Italy,  from  the  Italian  of  Carlo  Draina,  -with 
Original  Notes  and  Obfci  nations,  Svo. 

In  the  fummer  1773,  he  refuted   for  a  few  months  at  Wefton-Supra-Mare  in  Somerfctmire,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  fea-air.     At  the  fame  tim6,  and  for  the  fame  reafon,  the  amiable  and  ingenious 
Miis  Hannah  More  refided  at  Uphill,  a  mile  from  Wefton.     Meeting  one  day  upon  the  fea-flwi*/ 
Langhorne  wrote  with  the  end  of  his  ftick  upon  tfie  fandy 
Along  the  fhore 
Walk'd'  Hannah  More ; 
Waves,  let  this  record  laft  ; 
Sooner  fhall  ye, 
Proud  earth  and  fea, 
Than  whar/2r  writes  be  paft. 
Mils  More  fcratchcd  underneath  with  h*r  whip, 


ST«  THE   LITE   OF  LANGHORNE, 

Some  firmer  bafis,  polifh'd  Langhorne,  choofe, 

To  write  the  dictates  of  thy  charming  mui'e  ; 

Her  ftrains  in  Iblid  characters  rehearfe, 

And  be  thy  tablet  lafting  as  thy  verfe. 

Langhorne  praifed  her  wit,  and  copied  tha  lines,  which  be  prefentcd  to  her  at  a  houfe  near  the 
fea  where  they  adjourned,  and  (he  afterwards  wrote  under  as  follows : 

Langhorne,  whofefweetly -vary  ing  mufe  has  power 

To  raife  the  penfive,  crown  rhe  focial  hour  ; 

Whofe  very  trifling  has  the  charm  to  pleafe, 

With  nature,  wit,  and  unaffected  eafe  ; 

How  foon,  obedient  to  thy  forming  hand, 

The  letters  grew  upon  the  flexile  fand. 

Should  fome  loll  traveller  the  fcene  explore, 

And  trace  thy  verfes  on  the  dreary  fliore, 

What  fudden  joy  would  feaft  his  eager  eyes, 

How  from  his  eyes  would  burft  the  glad  furprife  I 

Methinks  I  hear,  or  feem  to  hear,  him  fay, 

This  letter'd  fhore  has  fmooth'd  my  toilfome  way ; 

Hannah  (he  adds)  though  honeft  truths  may  pain, 

Yet  here  I  fee  an  emblem  of  the  twain, 

As  thefe  frail  characters  with  eafe  impreft 

Upon  the  yielding  fand's  foft  watery  breaft. 

Which,  when  fome  few  fhort  hours  they  fhall  have  flood, 

Shall  ibon  be  fwept  by  yon  impetuous  flood. 

Prefumptuous  maid  !  fo  fliall  expire  thy  name, 

Thou  wretched  feeble  candidate  for  fame  ! 

But  Langhorue's  fate  in  yon  firm  rock  [Brean  Down]  I  read. 

Which  rears  above  the  cloud  its  towering  head  ; 

Long  as  that  rock  fhall  rear  its  head  on  high, 

And  lift  its  bold  front  to  the  azure  fky ; 

Long  as  thefe  adamantine  hills  furvive, 

So  long,  harmonious  Langhorne  !  (halt  thou  live  ; 

While  envy's  waves  fhall  lafli  and  vainly  roar, 

And  only  fix  thy  folid  bafe  the  more. 

In  1774*  ht  published  The  Country  Juftice,  a  Poem,  Part  I. ;  "  written  profefTedly  at  the.  requdt 
of  his  friend,  countryman,  and  brotber-juftice,  Dr.  Burn,  to  whom  it  is  addreffed.  "  The  diftinc- 
tion  you  have  acquired  on  the  fubjecl,"  fays  the  dedication,  "  and  true  tafte  for  the  arts,  gives  that 
addrek  every  kind  of  propriety." 

It  was  followed,  in  1775,  by  the  Second  Part  of  the  Country  Jnftice,  410,  which  he  dedicated,  in 
fome  elegant  introductory  ftanzas,  to  his  pupil  and  brother-in-law,  Robert  Wilfon  Cracroft,  Efq. 

The  year  following,  he  publimed  The  Proper  Happinefs  ofEcclefiaJiic  Life,  in  a  Public  and  Private 
Sphere ;  A  Sermon  preached  before  the.  Bijlop  of  Bath  and.  Wells,  at  his  Primary  Vifitation  at  Ax- 
bridge,  July  4.  1/76",  410  ;  and  The  Love  of  Mankind  the  Fundamental  Principle  of  the  Chriflian  Re 
ligion;  A  Sermon  preached  before  the  Gentlemen  Natives  of  the  County  ofSornerfet,  at  their  Annual 
Meeting,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  Redclijf,  Brijlol,  September  16.  1776,  4to. 

The  fame  year,  he  publiflied  Milton's  Italian  Poems  tranflated,  and  addreffed  to  a  Gentleman  of  Ita 
ly,  410 ;  which  was  followed  by  The  Country  Jujtice,  Part  III.  410,  .17  77  ;  and  Owen  ofCarron,  a 
Poem,  410,  1778,  which  was  the  laft  publication  he  gave  to  the  world. 

From  this  time,  finding  his  health  gradually  declining,  he  no  longer  ftrained  his  faculties  with  any 
literary  compofition.  After  a  lingering  illness,  he  died  at  Blagdon- Houfe,  April  I.  1779.  He  mar 
ried  a  iecond  time  ;  but  it  is  apprehended  he  left  no  iffue  by  his  fecond  marriage.  After  his  death,  an 
"  Elegy  to  hjs  Memory"  was  publiflied  by  Mr.  Portal ;  who  mentions,  that  he  left  the  care  of  his 
daughter,  by  his  firft  marriage,  to  Mrs.  Gillman,  a  lady  whom  he  has  frequently  celebrated  in  his  po 
ems. 

His  Poetical  Works,  reprinted  from  the  edition  in  2  vols,  1765,  with  The  Precepts  af  Conjugal 
Happinefs,  Verfes  to  the  Memory  of  a  Lady,  Fables  of  Flora,  and  Owen  of  Carron,  &c.  were  col 
lected  into  the  edition  of  "  The  Englifh  Poets,"  1790.  His  poems,  originally  printed  in  The  Effvfions 
of  Friendfbip  and  Fancy,  Tkeodftfius  and  Cwftantia,  and  Solyman  and  Ahnena>  are  now,  for  the  firft 
time,  collected  into  an  edition  of  his  works. 


THE  LIFE   OF  LANGHORfcE.  2II 

<s)f  his  numerous  profe  writings,  no  editions  have  been  called  for  fince  his  death,  except  of  Solyman 
and  Almena,TaeodafiusandConftartia,  and  Plutarcb's  Lives,  which  have  been  frequently  r;prmted. 

Of  the  domeftic  manners  and  petty  habits  of  Langhorne,  few  particulars  have  brf  n  retord-d.  His 
private  character  appears  to  have  been  very  amiable  and  refpeclable.  All  his  coitem;x)raries  bear 
teflimony  to  his  candour,  probity,  liberality  of  fentlment,  and  amiable  btnev  .lence.  Tenflfrnefs,  iri 
every  fenfe  of  the  word,  feems  to  have  been  his  peculiar  charafteriftic.  He  had  from  his  c1^  Idhood, 
as  he  himfelf  informs  us,  a  remarkable  turn  for  retirement;  and  frequently  walked,  wl-en  lie  was 
very  young,  two  miles  from  home,  to  a  folitary  place,  whofe  fliady  privacy  aided  'contemplation. 
The  romantic  afped  of  his  native  country  probably  added  to  this  innocent  eir.Vifiafm;  and  the  rudj 
contraft  of  rocks,  and  woods,  and  waters,  imprefled  fomething  of  their  own  wild  irregularity  on 
his  imagination.  His  poems  abound  with  images  and  defcriptions  connected  with  the  place  of  hia 
nativity.  In  his  fable  of  77*  Garden  Rofe  andthe  Wild  Reft,  the  recollection  of  the  fcenes  of  thought- 
kfs  gaiety  and  puerile  amufement,  which  he  had  long  forfaken,  reftorcd  to  his  mind  the  pieafing 
images  which  were  connected  with  them,  and  rekindled,  in  fome  mcafure,  that  emh'ufiafm  whick' 
they  firft  cherifhed  and  ihfpired. 


wild  and  filent  {hade, 


Where  oft  my  lonely  youth  was  laid, 

What  time  tMvnetiftaJ gemam  came, 

And  touch'd  me  with  his  holy  fLme— 

Or,  where  the  hermit  Belnu  leads 

Her  waves  through  folitary  meads, 

And  only  feeds  the  dejert  flower, 

Where  once  Ihe  footh'd  my  Numbering  hour  ; 

Or,  rous'd  by  Stanmire's  wint'ry  Iky, 

She  wearies  echo  with  her  cry — 

Where  Edens  fairer  waters  flow 

By  Milton's,  bower,  or  Ojly's  brow, 

Or  Brockley's  alder-fhaded  cave ; 

Or,  winding  round  the  druid's  grave, 

Silently  glide  with  pious  fear, 

To  found  his  holy  flumbers  near 

V,rhen  he  refided  in  London,  and  became  a  writer  of  celebrity,  his  company  was  very  earneftly 
folicited;  and  he  became  as  much  diftinguifhed  for  his  focial  and  convivial  fpirit,  as  for  the  force  of 
his  genius,  and  the  amiable  fimplicity  of  his  manners.  He  is  rccolk&ed  to  have  been  a  very  con- 
ftant  vifitor  at  the  Burton  Ale-houfe,  the  figri  of  th'e  Peacock,  in  Gray's-Inn  Lane,  where  he  is  fup- 
pofed  to  have  taken  too  libera'lly  that  fubflitute  for  the  Caflalian  fountain,  which  the  houfe  fupplied. 
His  manner  of  living  in  the  country  was  genial  and  elegant ;  and  he  died  much  lamented  by  his 
brother  juftices  and  convivial  friends. 

Asa  profc  writer,  few  of  his  compofidons  have  obtained  much  popularity,  though  they  afford  fuch 
pregnant  proofs  of  genius,  taflre,  and  learning,  as  render  them  hi  general  deferving  .iiore  attention 
than  they  have  hitherto  received. 

His  Letters  on  Religious  Retirement  are  addreffed  to  a  lady  of  good  fenfe  and  fine  accomplifhments, 
but  unhappily  a  little  tinctured  with  enthufiafm,  and  inclined  to  that  fort  of  melancholy  and  aver- 
fion  to  the  rational  pleafures  of  fociety,  which  naturally  arifcs  from  miftaken  apprchenfions  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  and  the  abfurd  notion  of  divine  impulfes  and  illuminations.  They  contain  a  variety 
of  ftriklng  arguments  and  obfervations,  clothed"  in  elegant  and  pathetic  language,  not  unlike  the 
flowery  ftylc  of  Harvey,  though  applied  to  a  very  oppofite  purpofe. 

His  Solyman ' a,td  Almena  is  one  of  the  moft  popular  of  his  performances.  In  invention,  originality, 
and  intertfr,  it  is  inferior  to  the  "  Rafelas"  of  Dr.  Johnfon,  and  the  "  Almoran  and  Hamet"  of  Dr. 
Hawkcfworth.  The  defign  and  tendency  of  the  ftory  are  more  comnuntlable  than  the  execution. 
In  venturing  to  fport  in  the  flowery  fields  of  fiction,  he  has  fometimes  forgotten  the  poet's  precept, 
convcnientia finger:.  Ill  the  corupoGtion,  few  ftrong  marks  of  the  eaflern  fty'le  or  manners  are  vifible; 
tut  the  defeds  of  the  ftyle,  though  in  general  eafy  and  elegant,  is  comp'cnfated  by  the  ufeful  Jn- 
ftruAion  it  conveys.  The  defign  of  the  tale  is  perfe&ly  chafte  and  moral,  tending  to  confirm  the.' 
habits  of  virtue,  and  to  infpire  us  with  a  confidence  in  Providence. 

In  his  E/tfons  of  Frientyip  and  Fancy,  he- has  ventured  into  the  pleafarrt  province  of  humour;  in 
,  if  he  does  not  tnaks  fuch  a  diftinguilhed  figucs  at  Sterne,  it  ouglit  to  btf  rcraembercJ,  d»at 

O    ijf 


«a  THELIFEOFLANGHORNJ*. 

few  have  fucceedcd  in  the  art  of  agreeable  trifling.  The  fecond  volume  contains  a  variety  of  inge 
nious  criticifms,  and  remarks  on  the  ftudy  of  poetry,  addrefied  to  Mr.  Cartwright,  which  evince  his 
abilities  as  a  claflical  fcholar,  and  his  good  tafte  in  polite  literature. 

His  Theodoftus  and  Conjlantia  is  founded  on  the  unfortunate  love  talc  told  in  the  "  Spectator,"  No. 
164.  The  defign  of  the  work  is  to  inculcate  many  of  the  great  duties  of  natural  and  revealed  reli 
gion,  and  the  practice  of  fome  of  the  moft  amiable  virtues  of  private  life.  The  merit  of  this  moral 
and  entertaining  Corrrffondencc  is  very  confiderable.  The:  letters  are  written  in  a  polite  and  pleafing 
uyle,  though  his  manner  is  too  poetical  for  profe  conipofition ;  his  language  too  flowery,  too  luxu 
riant,  and  in  fome  places  too  finely  poliflied  for  epiftoiary  writing;  in  which  art  fhauld  never  want 
eafe,  nor  elegance  lofe  fight  of  nature.  t 

His  Sermons  are  in  general  animated,  eloquent,  and  pathetic  compofitions  ;  but  they  are  fometimes 
more  verbofe,  diflufe,  and  affected,  than  a  polifhed  ta'le  can  patiently  endure.  They  have  been  fe- 
verely  cenfuredby  Mr.  Mainwaring,  in  the  preface  to  his  "  Sermons,"  8vo,  1780  v  where,  fpeaking 
of  fpecimens  offalfe  pathos,  he  refers  to  fermons  "  by  writers  of  little  judgment  and  no  genius — to 
thofe  of  Dr.  Langhorne  in  particular,  and  of  the  Methodifts  in  general,  where  the  inftances  of  falje 
fat'jos  are  fo  numerous,  and  fo  eafy  to  be  found,  that  I  think  it  needlefs  to  quote  them."  Again : 
"  Although'  method  cannot  be  too  exact,  it  may  be  too  ftudioufly  difplayed.  There  are  fermons  of 
the  firft  merit,  in  all  other  refpects,  that  mayjuflly.be  compared  to  fine  flceletons,  in  which  the 
bones,  mufcles,  and  fmews,  are  fafhioned,  arranged,  and  adjufled,  in  the  moft  perfect  manner  ;  but 
a  compofition  of  this  fort,  though  ever  fo  confiimmate  for  its  flrength  and  fymmetry,  can  only  be 
pleafing  to  the  eye  of  a  virtuofo.  The  extreme  oppofed  to  this  is  the  loofe  foft  texture  of  Dr.  Lang- 
horne's  flyle." 

ffitAfeabm  of  Collins,  though  general  and  fcanty,  are  elegantly  written;  and  the  Qhfervations  on 
till  Genius  and  Writings,  though  fometimes  flight  and  nugatory,  are  commonly  juft  and  pertinent,  and 
always  lively  and  ingenious. 

His  Letters  on  the  Eloquence  of  the  Pulpit,  contain  few  obfervations  that  are  new  or  ftriking  ;  but  the 
compofition  is  more  clofe  and  pure  than  the  generality  of  his  profe  writings. 

In  his  Frederick  anJ  Pbaramond,  there  is  a  liberality,  as  well  as  a  rectitude  of  fentiment,  which  me 
rits  the  higheft  praife ;  but  neither  the  conduct  of  the  dialogue  nor  the  flyle  are  commendable. 

His  Letters  between  St.  F.-vretxond  and  Waller,  are  in  general  characteristic  and  elegant,  and  do  equal 
credit  to  his  tafte  and  judgment. 

Of  Plutarch's  Lives,  the  tranflators  have  given  a  ycrfion  that  amply  fupplies  the  defects  of  that 
tranflation  to  which  Dryden  lent  his  glorious  name,  written,  as  he  himfelf  acknowledges,  by  as  many 
hands  as  there  were  lives.  It  had  indeed  been  corrected  in  the  editions  1727  and  1758,  with  great 
learning  and  abilities,  as  far  as  correction  was  pofllble;  but  the  caft  and  complexion  could  only  be 
improved  by  a  new  work,  which  has  been  executed  by  the  poetical  brothers,  with  an  elegance,  fide 
lity,  fpirit,  and  precifion,  that  merit  the  higheft  praife,  and  mufl  for  ever  preclude  the  neceffity  of  a 
fubfequent  verfion.  The  Life  of  Plutarch  is  well  written ;  and  the  Notes  are  very  valuable. 

His  tranflation  of  Denial's  Dijjertation  on  tie  Ancient  Republics  of  Italy,  is  an  accefllon  to  Englifli  lite 
rature,  that  has  received  an  additional  value  from  his  Original  Notes  and  Olfe'rvations. 

As  a  poet,  his  compofitions  are  diflinguilhed  by  undoubted  marks  of  genius,  a  fine  imagination, 
and  a  fenfible  heart*  Imagery  and  enthuiiafm,  the  great  efientials  of  poetry,  infpirit  all  his  works, 
and  place  them  far  above  the  ftrain  of  vulgar  compofitions.  The  tendernefs  of  love,  and  the  foft 
language  of  -complaint,  were  adapted  to  his  genius,  as  well  as  elevation  of  thought,  opulence  of 
imagery,  and  the  higheft  beauties  of  poetry.  But  the  qualities  for  which  he  is  chiefly  diftinguiflicd, 
ure  imagination,  pathos  and  fimplicity,  animated  fentiment,  opulence  of  allufion,  warmth  and  viva 
city  of  expreflion,  and  a  melodious  verification.  His  fentimental  productions  are  exquifitely  tender 
asd  beautiful;  his  defcriptive  compofitions  fhow  a  feeling  heart  and  a  warm  imagination  ;  and  his 
lyric  pieces  are  pregnant  with  the  genuine  fpirit  of  poetical  enthufiafm  j  but  his  ftyle,  in  the  midft 
of  much  fplendour  and  ftrength,  is  fometimes  harfti  and  obfcure,  and  may  be  cenfured  as  deficient 
&1  eafe  and  diftinctnefs.  His  chief  fault  is  redundant  decoration,  an  affectation  of  falfe  and  unne- 
ceflary  ornament.  He  is  not  always  contented  with  that  concife  and  fimple  language  which  is 
frficicnt  to  axprefg  his  fcctiiuents,  but  U  tempted  to  indulge  in  fuperfluous  diction,  by  the  faf-^. 


THE   LIFE   OF   LANGHORNE.  3,3 

cinating  charms  of  novelty  or  harmony.  By  giving  way  to  the  luxury  of  words  and  immoderate  em- 
belliftiment,  he  fometimes,  though  rarely,  violates  fimplicity,  and  becomes,  unavoidably  inaccurate 
and  redundant.  His  fentiments,  however,  are  always  juft,  often  new,  and  generally  ftriking.  A 
great  degree  of  elegance  and  claflical  fimplicity  runs  through  all  his  compofitions ;  and  his  defcrip- 
tions  of  nature,  rural  imagery,  pictures  of  private  virtue  and  paftoral  innocence,  have  a  judicious  fo- 
lection  of  circumftances,  a  graceful  plainnefs  of  expreflion,  and  a  happy  mixture  of  pathos  and  fcn- 
timent,  which  mark  the  fuperior  poet. 

His  Death  of  Adonis  is  a  claflical  and  fpirited  verfion  of  one  of  the  moft  beautiful  paftoral  poems 
of  antiquity.  The  didlion  is  eafy  and  elegant,  and  the  numbers  mufical  and  flowing. 

The  Poem  to  the  Memory  of  Mr.  Handel  may  be  confidered  as  the  genuine  and  animated  wailings 
of  poetry,  who  deplores  her  fitter's  lofs  in  Handel,  in  very  elegant  and  harmonious  verfe.  There 
is  a  considerable  variety  in  the  numbers,  which  are  happily  adapted  to  the  fubject,  and  modulated 
with  a  judicious  correfpondence  to  the  images  and  the  fentiments.  In  the  pafTage  beginning,  I  feel, 
1  feel  the  facred  impulfe,  &c.  the  paufes  and  cadences  of  the  numbers  are  fo  nervoufly  fweet  and 
mutable,  that  it  mult  revive  the  idea  of  a  fine  band  in  every  reliflier  of  mufic. 

The  Ode  to  the  River  Eden  is  very  pretty  and  fanciful.  The  ftanza  extends  to  ten  lines  or"  right 
fyllables,  except  the  tenth,  which,  finking  into  fix,  changes  the  cadence  agreeably  enough.  The  ex 
preflion  laughing  wing,  in  the  fourth  ftanza,  is  a  bold,  but  very  pardonable  experiment  in  metaphori 
cal  language.  Of  the  Hymn  to  Hope,  the  verification  is  fmooth,  the  dictum  elegant,  the  imagery 
agreeable,  and  the  fentiment  is  moftly  fimple  and  pathetic.  The  Viceroy  praifes  Lord  Halifax  with 
truth  and  delicacy,  but  little  poetry. 

The  Vifions  of  Fancy  are  the  effufions  of  a  contemplative  mind,  fometimes  plaintive,  and  always 
ferious,  but  too  attentive  to  the  glitter  of  flight  ornaments.  The  thoughts  are  pure,  fimple,  and, 
pathetic  ;  and  the  lines  are  fuch  as  elegy  requires,  fmooth,  eafy,  and  flowing  ;  but  the  diction  is  of 
ten  affected,  and  the  phrafe  unflulfully  inverted.  The  Autumnal  Elegy,  and  other  pieces  of  that 
kind,  deferve  a  more  unqualified  commendation. 

His  Genius  and  Valour  is  a  proper  contraft  to  the  "  Prophecy  of  Famine."  If  he  does  not  exceed 
Churchill  in  the  fire  and  force  of  his  numbers,  he  is  at  leaft  equal  to  him  in  the  eafy  and  harmonious 
flow  of  his  verfification.  In  that  part  of  the  paftoral  where  he  celebrates  thofe  natives  of  North  Bri 
tain  who  have  been  diftingufflied  for  their  genius  and  learning,  the  reprefentationof  the  Four  Stqfons 
appearing  to  Thomfon,  and  claiming  the  palm,  like  the  fabled  competition  of  the  rural  gcddefles 
before  the  royal  fliepherd  on  Mount  Ida,  is  entitled  to  the  higheft  praife.  The  Seafons  are  diftin 
guiflied  by  a  brilliancy  of  colouring,  and  a  diftinctnefs  and  propriety  of  attribute,  that  rival,  if  not 
furpafs,  what  we  meet  with  of  the  kind  even  in  Thomfon.  The  decifion  contains  an  elegant  com. 
pliment  to  the  amiable  «'  poet  of  the  Seafons/' 

The  bard,  whofe  gentle  heart  ne'er  gave 

One  pain  or  trouble  that  he  knew  <.&  lave, 
No  favour'd  nymph  extols  with  paitial  praife, 
But  gives  to  each  her  picture  for  her  praife. 

In  the  Fir/I  EpijUe  on  The  Enlargement  of  tie  Mind,  he  recommends  the  ftudy  of  Nature,  in  order 
to  enlarge  our  minds  by  a  due  contemplation  of  her  works.  The  plan  is  fomewhat  defective;  but 
it  poflefles,  in  many  parts,  the  concife  and  happy  expreflion,  and  the  melodious  verfificatiou  of  . 
Pope's  "  EiTay  on  Man."  In  the  Second  Epijlle,  like,  the  firft,  there  is  more  poetry  than  plan.  The 
panegyric  on  Reafon  is  eminently  beautiful,  and  the  reflection  on  the  proper  culture  of  tbejlower' 
divine  is  pathetic  and  fpirited.  The  dafcription  of  thoi'e  graceful  arts  which  flock  round  the  throne 
of  Science,  particularly  Poetry,  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Mufic,  is  appropriate  and  ftriking ;  and  the 
elegiac  lines  to  the  memory  of  his  friend  General  Crftufurd,  are  tender  and  pathetic.  The  Precept t 
of  Conjugal  Happinefs  contain  much  valuable  inftructioiv,  delivered  in  chafte  and  elegant  diction, 
and  eafy  and  harmonous  verfe. 

The  Verfes  to  the  Memory  of  a  Lady  rank  with  the  celebrated  elegiac  compofitions  of  Lyttletm 
and  Shaw,  to  which,  they  are  equal  in  poetical  merit,   and  fcarcely  inferior  in  pathetic  tendernefs. 
They  muft  pleafe  every  body,  becaufe  there  are  beauties  in  them  which  aflW.  every  bsdy.     T  t 
following  lines  njuft  touch  every  feeling  heajt : 


*I4  THE   LIFE   OF    LANGHORNE. 

See  the  laft  aid  of  her  expiring  irate, 
See  love,  ev'n  love  has  lent  his  darts  to  fate  ! 
Oh  !   when  beneath  his  golden  (hafts  I  bled, 
And  vainly  bound  his  trophies  on  my  head  ; 
When  crown'd  with  flowers  h>:  led  the  rofy  day, 
Liv'd  to  my  eye,  and  drew  my  foul  away— 
Could  fear,  could  fancy,  at  that  tender  hour, 
Seethe  dim  grave  demand  the  nuptial  flower? 

There,  there  his  wreaths  dejected  Hymen  ftrew'd. 
And  mourn'd  their  bloom  unfaded  as  he  viewed. ; 
There  each  fair  hope,  each  teudernefs  of  life, 
Each  namelefs  chann  of  foft  obliging-  ftrife, 
Delight,  love,  fancy,  pleafure,  genius,  lied, 
And  the  belt  paffioiis  cf  my  foul  lie  dead. 

Thefe  pathetic  verfes  came  fo  near  the  feelings  of  the  prefent  writer,  when  he  experienced  a  fimi- 
lar  affliction  nine  year's  ago,  that  they  hurt  his  peace  of  mind;  and  while  he  admired  the  poet  and 
pitied  the  man,  he  faw  his  own  miferies  in  the  ftrongeft  point  of  view,  and  fought,  like  him,  a  vain 
relief  by  campofiog  a '''"Monody  to  the  Memory  of  a  Beloved  Wife,"  in  the  fame  meafure,  which 
he  extended,  with  a  melancholy  pleafure  that  mourners  only  know,  beyond  the  bounds  which  cuf- 
tom  has  prefcribed  to  elegiac  verfes.  He  has  feen  the  fcene  he  defcribes,  and  knows  how  dreadful  it. 
is.  He  knows  what  it  is  to  Icfe  one,  that  his  eyes  and  heart  have  been  long  ufed  to,  acd  he  aevei 
defires  tp  part  with  the  remembrance  of  that  lofs. 

"— though  the  inexorable  urn 

•    „  Never, to  me  fliall  her  lov'd  form  return; 

Though  cold  the  breafl  that  life's  warm  current  fed, 

And  pale  the  cheek  that  modeft  beauty  fpread  ; 

Though  clos'd  the  eye  that  glanc'd  endearing  thought, 

And  mute  the  voice  that  living  goodnefs  taught  ; 

Never  from  me  (hall  her  lov\i. image  part, 

But  live  and  reign  unrivall'd  in  my  heart ; — 

Ev'n  death's  dim  fhadow  feeks  to  hide  in  vain, 

The  modeit  afpedl,  and  the  fmile  humane  ! 

In  day's  broad  glare,  and  in  the  gloom  of  night, 

Ker  pale-ey'd  phantom  rifes  to  my  i/ght  1 

In  vain — conieft,  I  fee  my  ANNA  ftand, 

And  the  pen  falls-r-falls  from  my  trembling  hand  ! 

Faint  on  my  lips  th"  unhallow'd  founds  expire, 

That  vainly  emulate  the  mule's  fire ; 

Afrefli  my  tears  in  fond  remembrance  flow, 

And  rifing  anguifh  flops  the  (train  of  woe  : 

Bleeds  in  my  breaft  with  aggravated  pain, 

Throbs  at  my  heart,  and  thrills  in  every  vein  ! 

In  his  Tables  of  Flora,' ike  plan  of  faWe1  is  fomewhat  enlarged,  and  the  province  fo  far  extended, 
that  the  original  narrat ive and  moral  may  be  accompanied  with  imagery,  defcription,  and  fentiment.1 
The  fcenery  is  formed  in  a  depaitment  of  nature  adapted  to  the  genius  and  difpofition  of  poetry, 
where  (he  finds  new  objects,  interefts,  and  connections,  to  exercife  her  fancy  and  her  powers.  The 
plan  is  judicious,  and  the  execution  truly  admirable.  None  of  his  compolitions  bear  ftronger  marks 
of  poetical  invention  and  enthufiafm  ;  none  are  diftinguifhed  by  fimpiicity,  tendernefs,  and  delicacy, 
in  a  more  eminent  degr,ee.;  ajid  none  have  a  ftronger  tendency  to  promote  the  love  of  nature  and 
the  interefts  of  humanity.  Of  thefe  charming  compactions,  The  S&n-Flo*wer  and  the  Ivy,  The  Lau 
rel  and  the  Reed,  The  fiolefand  the  ParflytThe  Wall-Flower,  and  The  Mi/let oe  and  the  Pajjion- 
Flower,  deferve  particular  commendation.  The  two  laft  are  diftinguifhed  by  imagination,  pathos, 
and  fublimity,  in  a  fuperior  degree. 

The  Origin  of  the  Veil  is  an  elegant  compliment  to  the  fair  fex,  exprefied  in  bis  ufual  melodious 
flow  of  verfification. 

The  Country  jfu/ltce  breathes  throughout  a  laudable  fpirit  of  poetry  and  humanity  ;  and  'is  farther 
recommended  to  us  by  the  additional  charms  of  a  flowing  and  elegant  verlirication.  The  Firji  Part 
opens  .with  a  retrofpedlive  view  of  the  forlorn  ftate  of  liberty  and  civil  fecurity  in  England  before 
the  inftitutionof  juftices  of  the  peace,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  He  then  celebrates  this  avpft  fa- 


THE   LIFE   OF  LANGHORNE. 

lutary  and  excellent  appointment  and,  its  purpofes.  The  defcription  of  Ancient  Jit/life  Hall  fucceed?, 
In  which  there  are  fome  exquifite  ftrokes  of  humour  and  pleafantry.  The  moral  character  of  a  coun 
try  juftice,  fuch  as  that  of  every  magiftrate  ought  to  be,  is  admirably  drawn.  The  general  motives' 
for  lenity  in  the  exercife  of  the  juftice's  office,  are  enforced  with  much  energy  and  benevolence.  In 
his  apology  fur  -vagrants,  he  pleads  the  probable  mifery  of  the  ividoiifd  parent  who  might  h>ve  horn 
«ne  ef  thofe  wretches,  in  the  richefl  vein  of  fancy  and  pathos. 

Cold  on  Canadian  hills  or  Minclen's  plain. 

Perhaps  that  parent  mourn'd  her  fuldier  flain,  /»r$k  Jffr  .l.'i-H 

Bent  o'er  her  babe,  her  eye  dirTolv'd  in  dew, 

The  big  drops  mingling  with  the  milk  he  drew, 

Gave  the  fad  prefage  of  his  future  years, 

The  child  of  mifery,  baptiz'd  in  tears ! 

His  declaration  againft  that  pernicious  fpecies  of  vagrants  known  by.  the  name  uf  gy^- 
read  with  peculiar  pleafura. 

The  fubjecl  of  the  Second  Part  is  \htprote8ionoftbe  poor,  in  which  he  points  out,  with  great  energy, 
and  well-placed  fatire,  the  evils  that  refult  from  a  deferted  country  and  an  overgrown  metropolis. 
It  is  introduced  by  a  dedication,  which  is  equally  moral  and  poetical.  In  the  Third  Part,  he  treats  on 
depredation,  prifons,  and  filiation,  with  the  fame  pathetic  elegance,  benevolence,  and  well-placed  fa- 
tire.  The  profe  titles  to  the  feveral  divifions  of  the  poem,  which  break  the  thread  of  the  fubjedr,  and 
interrupt  <he  reader,  rather  unpleafingly,  are  omitted  in  the  prefent  edition. 

His  Owen  of  Car r on  is  a  pathetic  tale,  told  with  fimplicity  and  elegance.  The  fcene  is  laid  iu 
Scotland,  in  the  reign  of  William  the  Lyon.  The  characters  are  interefting,  and  the  events  diftref- 
fing.  Lady  Ellen,  a  Highland  beauty,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Moray,  after  being  unfuccelsfully  ad- 
drefled  by  many  fuitors,  meets  with  one  who  fucceeds,  but  whofe  fuccefs  proves  fatal  to  herfelf. 
Ellen  is  cafually  met  by  the  Earl  of  Nithifdale,  who  becomes  enamoured  of,  and  connected  with  her. 
This  intercourfe  is  obferved  by  Earl  Barnard,  a  rejected  and  jealous  fuitor,  who  provides  a  band  of 
ruffians  to  aflaffinate  his  rival.  Ellen,  unconicious  of  her  lover's  fate,  goes  to  meet  him  at  the  accuf- 
tomed  bower,  and  finds  him  dead. 

What  was  that  form  fo  ghaftly  pale, 
That  low  beneath  the  poplar  lay  ? 
'Twas  fome  poor  youth — Ah,  Nithifdale  ! 

She  faid,  and  filent  funk  away  1 

She  is  found  by  a  friendly  fliepherd,  who  conveys  her  to  his  cottage,  where  fhe  returns  to  life,  but 
pot  to  reafon.     Her  Ctuation  at  this  juncture  is  finely  defcribed. 
O,  hide  me-  in  thy  humble  bower, 

(Returning  late  to  life,  (lie  faid), 
I'll  bind  thy  crook  with  many  a  flower, 

With  many  a  rofy  wreath  thy  head,  Sec. 

Ellen,  after  recovering  from  her  infanity,  and  refiding  fome  years  with  the  ihepherd,  ie  efpoufed 
to  Lord  Barnard,  the  unfufpe&ed  murderer  of  her  hufband. 

The  Lord  of  Lothian's  fertile  vale,  8cc. 

From  this  event,  it  can  fcarce  be  fuppofed  that  Ellen  deferves  much  happinefs.    She  had  confided 
to  the  care  of  the  fhepherd  a  young  Nithifdale,  the  Given  cfCatron,  who  gives  name  to  the  poem. 
0-wen,  when  arrived  at  years  of  underftanditig,  adverting  to  ibme  circumftances  which  he  thinks 
inconfiftent  with  his  fuppofed  birth  and  prefent  fituation,  indulges  a  very  natural  anxiety. 
Why  is  this  crook  adorn'd  with  gold  ? 
Why  am  I  tales  of  ladies  told  ? — 
If  I  am  but  a  fliepherd's  boy,  &c. 

'  The  ihepherdefs,  his  fofter-mother,  previous  to  her  death,  reveals  the  ferret,  and  Oven  refolves  to 
attempt  an  interview  with  his  real  mother,  in  the  balls  of  Lothian.  His  refolution  produces  a  dread 
ful  cataftropha. 

'Tis  o'er — thefe  locks  that  wav'd  in  gold, 
That  wav'd  adown  thofe  cheeks  fo  fair, 
Wreath'd  in  the  glbomy  tyrant's  hold, 

Hang  f;om  the  fever'd  head  in  air—  ,. 

O  ilij. 


f  THE   LIFE   OF   LANGHORNE. 

The  trembling  victim  ftraight  he  led. 
Ere  yet  her  foul's  firft  fear  was  o'er, 

He  pointed  to  the  ghaftly  head- 
She  faw — and  funk  to  rife  to  more. 

The  ftory,  which  reminds  us  of  "  Gil  Mqrrice,"  is  fkilfully  told,  and  diftinguifhed  by  rich  image- 
fy,  and  flowing  verfification ;  but  the  illicit  commerce  of  Niti> ifdale  and  Ellen  Ihould  not  have  pafled 
unreproached,  as  if  it  were  irreproachable 

Of  the  pieces  now  firft  collected  into  his  works,  the  Hymn  to  the  Rijing  Sun,  Farewell  Hymn  tt 
the  Valley  oflrivan,  The  Happy  Villager^  To  Almena,  Hymeneal,  Song,  Hyt/m  to  the  Eternal  Mind, 
Epitapbiian  Damonis,  Epiftlei  to  Colman  and  Mr.  Lamb,  and  the  verfes  Written  in  a  Cottage-Garden 
at  a  Village  in  Lorrain,  are  diftinguifhed  by  tendernefs  of  fentiment,  luxury  of  defcription,  force  of 
pathos,  and  harmony  of  numbers.  The  laft,  in  pathetic  fimplicity  and  unaffected  tendernefs,  is  not 
to  be  furpafled  by  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  Englifli  language.  In  the  pieces  taken  from  Solyman 
andAlmena,  the  river  Eden  may  be.  fubftituted  for  Iriuux,  without  any  local  impropriety.  His  Son 
nets,  and  fmaller  pieces,  have  their  brighter  paffages,  but  r*cjuire  no  diftirict  enumeration,  or  parti* 
vular  criticifjQ. 


THE  WORKS  OF  LANGHORNE. 


"  Et  vos,  O  Lauri,  carpam ;  ct  t£,  proxima  Myrtc ! 

"  Sic  pofitae,  quoiiiam  fuaves  mifcctis  odoies."  VIRO. 


TO  THE  HON. 

CHARLES  YORKE. 

A  MDSE  that  lov'd  in  nature's  walks  to  ftray, 
And  gather'd  many  a  wild  flower  in  her  way, 
To  nature's  friend  her  genuine  gifts  would  bring, 
The  light  amufcments  of  life's  vacant  fpring  ; 
Nor  (halt  thou,  Yorke,  her  humble  offering  blame, 
If  pure  her  increafe,  and  unmix'd  her  flame. 
She  pours  no  flatt'ry  into  folly's  ear, 
No  mamelefs  hireling  of  a  fhamelefs  peer, 
The  friends  of  Pope  indulge  her  native  lays, 
And  Gloucefler  joins  with  Lyttelton  to  praife. 
Each  judge  of  art  her  ftrain,  though  artlefs  loves ; 
And  Shenftone  fmiFd,  and  polifh'd  Hurd  approves. 
O  may  fjuch  fpirits  long  protect  my  page, 
Surviving  lights  of  wit's  departed  age ! 
Long  may  I  in  their  kind  opinion  live  ! 
All  meaner  praife,  all  envy  I  forgive— 
Yet  fairly  be  my  future  laurels  won  ! 
Nor  let  me  bear  a  bribe  to  Hardwicke's  fon ! 
Should  hi?  free  fuffrage  own  the  favour'd  ftrain, 
Though  vain  the  toil,  the  glory  were  not  vain— • 

FROEMIUM, 

WRITTEN    IN    1766. 

IN  Eden's  *  vale,  when  early  fancy  wrought 
Her  wild  embroidery  on  the  ground  of  thought, 
Where  Pembroke's  f  grottos,  ftrew'd  with  Sid 
ney's  bays, 

Recall'd  the  dreams  of  vifionary  days, 
Thus  the   fond  mufe*,  that  footh'd  my   vacant 

youth, 
Prophetic  fung,  and  what  fhe  fung  was  truth. 

"  Boy,  break  thy  lyre,  and  caft  thy  reed  away ; 
Vain  are  the  honours  of  the  fruitlefs  bay, 

*   7  be  riiier  Eden,  in  Wejlmor  eland. 
t   The  Cottntefs  of  Pembroke,  to  'whom  Sir  Pbilip 
Sydney  dedicated  bis  Arcadia,  rejtded  at  Appleby,   a 
Jmall  but  beautiful  town  in  Wejlntvrclaisd,  fitutted  upon 
ft/b:  Eden. 


Though  with  each  charm  thy  polifli'd  lay  fliould 

pleafe, 

Glow  into  ftrength,  yet  foftcn  into  eafe; 
Should  Attic  fancy  brighten  every  line, 
And  all  Aonia's  harmony  be  thine  ; 
Say  would  thy  cares  a  grateful  age  repay  ? 
Fame  wreath  thy  brows,  or  fortune  gild  thy  way  ? 
Ev'n  her  own  fools,  if  fortune  fmile,  (hall  blame; 
And  envy  lurks  beneath  the  flowers  of  fame*. 

Yet,  if  refolv'd  fecure  of  future  praife, 
Tc-  tune  fweet  fongs,  and  live  melodious  day», 
Let  not  the  hand  that  decks  my  holy  (brine, 
Round  folly's  head  the  blafted  laurel  twine. 
Juft  to  thyfelf,  difhoncft  grandeur  fcorn; 
Nor  gild  the  buft  of  meannefs  nobly  born. 
Let  truth,  let  freedom  ftill  thy  lays  approve  ! 
Refped:  my  precepts,  and  retain  my  love  !" 

HYMN  TO  HOPE,  1761. 
3'  «tm>0<  'EAI112  to  et 


SUN  of  the  foul  !  whofe  cheerful  ray 
Darts  o'er  this  gloom  of  life  a  Jmile  5 

Sweet  hope,  yet  further  gild  my  way, 
Yet  light  my  weary  fleps  awhile, 

Till  thy  fair  lamp  diflblve  in  endiefs  day. 

O  come  with  fuch  an  eye  and  mien, 
As  when  by  amorous  fliepherd  feenj 
While  in  the  violet-breathing  vale 
He  meditates  his  evening  tale  ! 
Nor  leave  behind  thy  fairy  train, 
Repofe,  belief,  and  fancy  vain  : 
That  towering  on  her  wing  :  ublirnr, 
Outftrips  the  lazy  flight  oftimc, 
Riots  on  diftant  days  with  thee, 
And  opens  all  futurity. 

O  come  !  and  to  my  penfive  eye 
i  Thy  far-forefeeing  tube  apply, 
'  Whofe  kind  deception  ftcals  u*  o'er 

The  gloomy  waftc  that  lies  before; 


THE  WORKS   OF   LANGHORNE. 


Still  opening  to  the  diftant  fight 
The  funfliine  of  the  mountain's  height; 
Where  fcenes  of  fairer  afpe<fl  rife, 
Elyfian  groves,  and  azure  fides. 

Nor,  gentle  hope,  forget  to  bring 
The  family  of  youth  and  fpring ; 
The  hour^  that  glide  in  fprightly  round, 
The  mountain-nymphs  with  wild  thyme  crown'd; 
Delight,  that  dwells  with  raptur'd  eye 
On  ft'ream,  or  flow'r,  or  field,  or  fky : 
,  And  foremoft  in  thy  train  advance 
The  loves  and  joys  in  jovial  dance  ; 
Nor  laft  be  expectation  feen, 
That  wears  a  wreath  of  evergreen. 

Attended  thus  by  Belau's  ftreams, 
Oft  haft  thou  footh'd  my  waking  dreams, 
When,  prone  beneath  an  ofier  fhade,   . 
At  large  my  vacant  limbs  were  laid  ; 
To  thec  and  fancy  all  refign'd, 
What  vifions  wander'd  o'er  my  mind  ! 
Illufions  dear,  adieu  !  no  more 
Shall  I  your  fairy-haunts  explore ; 
For  hope  withholds  her  golden  ray, 
And  fancy's  colours  faint  away. 
To  Eden's  fhores,  to  Enon's  groves, 
R-founding  once  with  Delia's  loves, 
Adieu  !  that  name  fhajl  found  no  more 
O'er  Enon's  groves,  or  Eden's  fhore  : 
For  hope  withholds  her  golden  ray, 
And  fancy's  colours  faint  away. 

Life's  ocean  flept — the  liquid  gale 
Gently  mov'd  the  waving  fail. 
Fallacious  hop€ !  with  flattering  eye 
You  fmil'd  to  fee  the  ftreamers  fly. 
The  thunder  burftg,  the  mad  wind  raves, 
From  {lumber  wake  the  frighted  waves : 
You  fiiw  me,  fled  me  thus  diftreft, 
And  tore  your  anchor  from  my  breaft. 

Yet  come,  fair  fugitive,  again  ! 
I  love  thee  ftill,  though  falfe  ayd  vain  ! 
Forgive  me,  gentle  hope,  and  tell 
Where,  far  from  me,  you  deign  to  dwell.  • 
To  footh  ambition's  wild  defires; 
Trt  feed  the  lover's  eager  fires;     ' 
To  fvvell  the  mifer's  mouldy  ftore ; 
To  gild  the  dreaming  chemift's  ore  ; 
Are  thefe  thy  cares  ?  or  more  humane  ? 
To  loofe  the  war-worn  captive's  chain, 
And  bring  before  his  languid  fight 
The  charms  of  liberty  and  light ; 
The  tears  of  drooping  grief  to  dry  : 
Aud  hold  thy  glafs  to  forrow's  eye  ? 

Or  doft  thou  more  delight  to  dwell 
With  filence  in  the  hermit's 'cell  ? 
To  teach  devotion's  flame  to  rife, 
And  wing  her  vefpers  to  the  ikies ; 
TO  urge,  with  ftiil  returning  care, 
The  holy  violence  of  prayer; 
In  rapt'rous  vifions  to  difplay 
The  realms  of  everlafting  day, 
And  ihatch  from  time  the  golden  key, 
That  opens  all  eternity  ? 

Perchance,  on  fome  unpeopled  ftrand, 
Whofc  rocks  the  raging  tide  withftand, 
Thy  foothing  fmile,  in  cleferts  drear, 
A  lonely  mariner  may  cheer,  ,. 


Who  bravely  holds  his  feeble  breath, 
Attack'd  by  famine,  pain,  and  death. 
With  thee,  he  bears  each  tedious  day 
Along  the  dreary  beach  to  ftray : 
Whence  their  wide  way  his  toil'd  eyes  ftraij| 
O'er  the  blue  bqfom  of  the  main  ;     . 
And  meet  where  diftant  furges  rave, 
A  white  fail  in  each  foaming  wave. 

Doom'd  from  each  native  joy  to  part, 

Each  dear  connection  of  the  heart, 

You  the  poor  exile's  fteps  attend, 

The  only  undeferting  friend. 

You  wing  the  flow-declining  year ; 

You  dry  the  folitary  tear ; 

And  oft,  with  pious  guile,  reftore 

Thofe  fcenes  he  muft  behold  no  more. 

O  moft  ador'd  of  earth  or  fkies ! 
To  thee  ten  thoufand  temples  rife  J" 
By  age  retain'd,  by  youth  cared, 
The  fame  dear  idol  of  the  breaft, 
Depriv'd  of  thee,  the  wretch  were  poor, 
That  rolls  in  heaps  of  Lydian  ore; 
With  thee  the  fimple  hind  is  gay, 
Whofe  toil  fupports  the  pafllng  day. 

The  rofe-lip'd  loves,  that  round  their  <juee» 

Dance  o'er  Cythera's  fmiling  green, 

Thy  aid  implore,  thy  power  difplay 

In  many  a  fweetly-warbled  lay. 

Forever  in  thy  facred  fhrine 

Their  uncxtinguifti'd  torches  fhine ; 

Idalian  flowers  their  fweets  diffufe, 

And  myrtles  fhed  their  balmy  dews. 

Ah  !  ftill  propitious,  may 'ft  thou  deigrt 

To  footh  an  anxious  lover's  pain  ! 

By  thee  deferted,  well  I  know, 

His  heart  would  feel  no  common  woe. 

His  gentle  prayer  propitious  hear, 

And  flop  the  frequent-falling  tear. 

For  me,  fair  hope,  if  once  again, 
Perchance,  to  fmile  on  me  you  deign, 
Be  fuch  your  fweetly-rural  air, 
And  fuch  a  graceful  vifage  wear, 
As  when,  with  truth  and  young  defirc, 
Youwak'd  the  lord  of  Hagley's  lyre, 
And  painted  to  her  poet's  mind 
The  charms  of  Lucy,  fair  and  kind. 

But  ah,  too  early  loft  !        -then  go, 

Vain  hope,  thou  harbinger  of  woe. 

Ah,  no  !^— that  thought  diftradts  my  heart : 

Indulge  me,  hope,  we  muft  not  part ; 

Direft  the  future  as  you  pleafe; 

But  give  me,  give  me  prefent  eafe. 

Sun  of  the  foul !  whofe  cheerful  ray 
Darts  o'er  this  gloom  of  life  a  fmile ; 

Sweet  hope,  yet  further  gild  my  way, 
Yet  light  my  weary  fteps  awhile, 

Till  thy  fair  lamp  diffolve  in  endlefs  day. 

GENIUS  AND  VALOUR.  • 

A    PASTORAL    POEM. 

Written  In  HonoiA-  of  a  Sifter-Kingdom ,    1763. 
Amyntor.  CLorus  of  Sbepbtrds. 

WHERE  Tweed's  fair  plains  in  liberal  beauty  Jie, 
And  flora  laughs  beneath  a  lucid  flcy ; 


POEM    S. 


I  Long-winding  vales,  wh;re  cryftal  waters  lave, 
i    V\  here  blithe   birds  warble,   and  where   green 
woods  wave, 

I  A  bright- hair'd  fhepherd,  in  young  beauty's  bloom, 
I-.  TunM  his  1'weet  pipe  behind  the  yellow  broom. 

Free  to  tiie  gale  his  waving  ringlets  lay, 
I  And  his  blue  eyes  diifus'd  an  azure  day. 
I  JLight  o'er  his  limbs  a  carelefs  ro^e  he  flung ; 
I  Health   rais'd  his   heart,   and  flrength   his  firm 

nerves  fining. 

His  native  plains  poetic  charms  infpir'd, 
I  Wild  fcenes,  where  ancient  fancy  oft  retir'd  ! 
I  Oft  led  her  fairies  to  the  fhepherd's  lay, 
By  Yarrow's  banks,  or  groves  of  Endermay. 

Nor  only  his  thofe  images  that  rife 
Fair  to  the  glance  of  fancy's  plaflic  eyes ; 
j  His  country's  love  his  patriot  foul  poffefs'd, 
His  country's  honour  fir'd  his  filial  bread. 
Her  lofty  genius,  piercing,  bright,  and  bold, 
I  Her  valour  witnefs'd  by  the  world  of  old, 
I  Witnefs'd  once  more  by  recent  heaps  of  flain 
On  Canada's  wild  hills,  and  Minden's  plain, 

To  founds  fublimer  wak'd  his  paftoral  reed 

Peace,  mountain-echoes !  while  the  ftrains  pro 
ceed. 

Amyntor. 

No  more  of  Tiviot,  nor  the  flowery  braes, 
\Vhere  the  blithe  fhepherd  tunes  his  lightfame 

lays; 

Ko  more  of  Leader's  fairy-haunted  fhore, 
Of  Athol's  lawns,  and  Gledfwocd-banks  no  more. 
XJnheeded  fmile  my  country's  native  charms, 
Loft  in  the  glory  of  her  arts  and  arms. 
Thefe,  fhepherds,  thefe  demand  fublimer  drains 
Than  Clyde's   clear  fountains,  or   than  Athol's 
plains. 

C/.'crtis  of  Shepherds. 

Shepherd,  to  thee  fublimer  lays  belong, 
The  force  divine  of  foul -commanding  fong. 
Thefe  humble  reeds  have  little  learnt  to  play, 
Save  the  light  airs  that  cheer  the  paftoral  day. 
Of  the  clear  fountain  and  the  fruitful  plain 
We  fing,  as  fancy  guides  the  fimple  ftrain. 
tf  then  thy  country's  facred  fame  demand 
The  high-ton'd  mufic  of  a  happier  hand 
Shepherd,  to  thee  fublimer  lays  belong, 
The  force  divine  of  foul-commanding  fong. 

Amyntor. 

In  fpite  of  faction's  blind,  unmanner'd  rage, 
Of  various  fortune  and  deftructive  age, 
Fair  Scotland's  honours  yet  uncliang'd  are  ften, 
Her  palms  {till  blooming,  and  her  laurels  green. 
Freed  from  the  confines  of  her  Gothic  grave, 
"When  her  firft  light  reviving  fcience  gave, 
Alike  o'er  Britain  (hone  the  liberal  ray, 
From  *  Er.fwith's  mountains  to  the  banks  of  Tay. 
.For  James  f  the  mufes  tun'd  their  fportive  lays, 
And  bound  the  monarch's  brow  with  Chaucer's 

bays. 

Arch  humour  fin i I'd  to  hear  his.  mimic  flrain, 
And  plaafive  laughter  thrill'd  through  every  vein. 

When  tafte  and  genius  form  the  royal  mind, 
The  favour'd  arts  a  happier  era  find. 

*   A  chain  cf  mountain-  n^ar  Folkflone  in  Kent. 

f  "James  the  f'rji,  King  cf  Scotland,  aether  cf 
the  famous  old  fvr.g^  ir.t':ti:!:d,  "  drifts  Kirk  on  tL 
Green." 


"f 


By  James  belov'd,  the  ttiufe'  tnn';l  their  lyres 
To  nobler  ftrains,  and  breath'd  diviner  fifes. 
But  the  dark  mantle  of  involving  time 
Has  veil'd  their  beauties,  and  obfcur'd  their  rhyme. 

Yet  ftill  fome  pleafirg  monuments  remain, 
Some-marks  of  genius  in  each  later  re;gn. 
In  nervous  ftrains  Dunbar's  bold  mufic  flows, 
And  time  yet  (pares  the  Thiftie  and  the  Role  *. 

O  !  while  his  courfe  the  hoaiy  warrior  ft.crs 
Through  the  long  range  of  lifc-diflolving  year*, 
Through  all  the  evils  of  each  changeful  age, 
H;;te,  envy,  faction,  jealoisfy,  and  rage, 
Ne'er  may  his  fcyth.-  thefe  facred  plants  divide, 
Thefe  plants  by  Heaven  in  native  union  tied  ! 
Still  may  the  flower  its  focial  facets  difclofe, 
The  hardy  thiftle  ftill  defend  the  rofe. 

Hail   happy  days !    appcas'd   by  Margaret*  j 

charms, 

When  rival  valour  ffieath'd  his  fatal  arms. 
When' kindred  realms"  unnatural  war  fupprcft, 
Nor  aim'd  their  arrows  at  a  fitter's  brealir. 

Kind  to  the  mufe  is  quiet's  genia!  day; 
Her  olive  loves  the  foliage  of  the  bay. 

With  bold  Dnnbar  arofe  a  numerous  choir 
Of  i-ival  bards-,  tliat  ftrung  rhe  Dorian  lyre, 
In  gentle  Henryfon's  f  unlabour'Jftrain 
Sweet  Arethnfa's  fhrplu-rd  brcath'd  again  : 
Nor  (hall  your  tuneful  vifions  be  forgot, 
Sage  Bellentyne  f  and  fnncy-pahnirg  Scott  ||. 
But,  O  my  country  !  how  Hull  memory  trace 
Thjjbleeding  anguifh,  ;tnd  rhy  c'ire  difgrace? 
Weep  o'er  the  ruins  of  thy  b'aftcd  bays, 
Thy  glories  loft  in  either  Charles's  days  ? 
When  through  thy  fields  dcftr'uitive  rapine  fpread, 
Nor  fparing  infants  tears,  nor  ]:;-ary  head. 
In  thole  dread  days  the  unprotected  iwain 
Mourn'd  on  the  mountains  o'er  his  wafted  plain. 
Nor  longer  vocal  with  the  fhcphcrd's  lay 
Were  Yarrow's  banks,  or  groves  of  Endermay. 

Cinrus  (f  SLtfrbcris. 

Amyntor,  ceafe!  the  painful  fcene  forbear^ 
Nor  the  fond  bread  of  filial  duty  tear. 
Yet  in  our  eyes  our  fathers  for /owj  flow, 
Yet  in  our  bofoms  lives  the;;-  Lfti.ng  woe. 
At  eve,  returning^  from  their  Icantyfold, 
When  the  long  fufferings  of  thtir  fires  they  told, 
Oft  have  we  figh'd  the  piteous  tale  to  hear, 
And  infant  wonder  dropt  the  mimic  tear. 
'AOiyiitef. 

Shepherds,  no  longer  need  your  fcrrows  flow, 
Nor  pious  duty  chcrifii  cudlefs  woe. 
Yet  {hould  remembrance,  led  by  filial  love, 
Through  the  dark  vale  of  old  afilictioa's  rove, 

*  A  foem  fa  called,  -writ:tn  in  Lonear  cf  Mar- 
gar:t,  daughter  of  Henry  •  VII.  on.  t:r  marriage 
t«  James  IV.  King  of  Scots.  By  Mr.  William 
Duntar. 

f  Mr.  Robert  Henr;-fon,  an  ingcnient  faJTaral 
poet. 

\  Mr.  "Join  Belltniynci  Art&fai.'on  of  Murray^ 
author  of  a  bcjvt-ful  alLgcrlca!  patrr.,  intitulcJ,  Virtue 
and  Vic:. 

|j  Mr.  Archibald  Scott,  in  tie  y:ar  IJ24,  tranfljled 
the  Vifion,  a  pQem,ftiid  to  liave  been  -written  in  flu  yen? 
1 360.  H:  tvat  author  if  the  Ejglf  tnd  the  Ridlreafi 
.life,  and  fevcrcl  other  fiecct  tviittfn  tcv/i  wuwtmt* 
cleg <ir.i(  far  their  day. 


THE   WORKS   OF   LANGHORNK. 


The  mcurnful  fhades  of  forrows  paft  explore, 
And  think  of"  miferies  that  are  no  more ; 
Let  thofe  fad  fcenes  that  aflc  the  duteous  tear, 
The  kind  return  of  happier  days  endear. 

Hail,  Anna,  hail !   O  may  each  mufe  divine 
With  wreaths  eternal  grace  thy  holy  fhrine  I 
Grav'd  on  thy  tomb  this  facred  verfe  remain, 
This  verfe,  more  fweet  than  conqueft's  founding 

ftrain. 

"  She  bade  the  rage  of  hoftile  nations  ceafe, 
"  The  glorious  arbitrcfs  of  Europe's  peace." 
She,  through  whole  bofom  roll'd  the  vital  tide 
Of  Britain's  monarchs  in  one  flream  allied, 
Clos'd  the  long  jealoufies  of  different  fway, 
And  faw  united  filter-realms  obey. 

Aufpicious  days  !  when  tyranny  no  more 
Rais'd  his  red  arm,  nor  drench'd  his  darts  in  gore. 
When,  long  an  exile  from  his  native  plain, 
Safe  to  his  fold  return'd  the  weary  fvvain  ; 
Rcturn'd,  and,  many  a  painful  fummer  paft, 
Beheld  the  green  bench  by  his  door  at  laft. 

Aufpicious  days  !  when  Scots,  no  more  oppreft, 
On  their  free  mountains  bar'd  the  fearlcl's  brcau. 
With  pleafure  faw  their  flocks  unbounded  feed, 
And  tun'd  to  {trains  of  ancient  joy  the  reed. 

Then,  fhepherds,  did  your  wondering  fires  behold 
A  form  divine,  whofe  vefture  flam'd  with  gold. 
His  radiant  eyes  a  flarry  luftre  fhed, 
And  folar  glories  beam'd  around  his  head. 
Like  that  ftrange  power  by  fabling  poets  feign'd, 
From  eaft  to  weft  his  mighty  arms  he  ftrain'd. 
A  rooted  olive  in  one  hand  he  bore, 
Jn  one  a  globe,  iufcrib'd  with  fea  and  fhore. 
From  Thames's  banks  to  Tweed,  to  Tay  he  came, 
"Wealth  in  his  rear,  and  Commerce  was  his  name. 

Glad  induftry  the  glorious  ftranger  hails, 
Rears  the  tall  mails,  and  fpreads  the  fwelling  fails; 
Regions  remote  with  adtive  hope  explores 
Wild  Zembla's  hills,  and  Afric's  burning  fhorcsi 

But  chief,  Columbus,  of  thy  various  coaft, 
Child  of  the  union,  commerce  bears  his  boafi. 
To  fcek  thy  new-found  worlds,  the   vcnt'rous 

fvyain, 

His  lafs  forfaking,  left  the  lowland  plain. 
Afide  his  crook,  his  idle  pipe  he  threw, 
And  bade  to  mufic  and  to  love  adieu. 

Hence,  Glafgow  fair,  thy  wealth-diffufing  hand, 
Thy  groves  of  veffels,  and  thy  crowded  ftrand. 
Hence,  round  his  folds  the  moorland  fhej>herd 

fpies 
New  focial  towns  and  happy  hamlets  rife. 

But  me  not  fplendour,  nor  the  hopes  of  gain, 
Should  ever  ten-.pt  to  quit  the  peaceful  plain. 
Shall  1,  poffefs'd  of  all  that  life  requires, 
With  tutor'd  hopes,  and  limited  defires, 
Change  thefe  fweet  fields,  thefe  native  fcenes  of 

eafe, 
For  climes  uncertain,  and  uncertain  feas  ? 

Nor  yet,  fair  commerce,  do  I  thee  difdain, 
Though  guilt,  and  death,  and  riot,  fwell  thy  train. 
Cheer'd  by  the  influence  of  thy  gladdening  ray, 
The  liberal  arts  fublimer  works  eflay. 
Genius  for  thee  relumes  his  facred  fires, 
And  fcience  nearer  to  her  heaven  afpires. 

The  fanguine  eye  of  tyranny  long  clos'd, 
By  commerce  fofter'd,  and  in  peace  rcpos'd, 
No  more  her  miferies  when  my  country  mourn'J, 
With  brighter  flames  her  glowing  genius  burn'd. 


oon  wandering  fearlels  many  a  mtiftf  was  feen 
D'er  the  dun  mountain,  and  the  wild  wood  green.- 
Soon,  to  the  warblings  of  the  paftoral  ;reed, 
Started  fweet  echo  from  the  fhores  of  Tweed. 

O  favour'd  ftream  !  where  thy  fair  current  flowsj 
The  child  of  nature,  gentle  Thomfon  rofe. 
Young  as  he  wander'd  on  thy  flowery  fide, 
With  fimple  joy  to  lee  thy  bright  waves  glide, 
Thither,  in  all  their  native  charms  array'd, 
From  climes  remote  the  fitter  Seafons  flray'd. 

Long  each  in  beauty  boaftcd  to  excel, 
(For  jealoufies  in  filver-bofoms  dwell) 
But  now,  delighted  with  the  liberal  boy, 
Like  heaven's  fair  rivals  in  the  groves  of  Troy, 
Yield  to  an  humble  fwain  their  high  debate, 
And  from  his  voice  the  palm  of  beauty  wait. 

Her  naked  charms,  like  Venus,  to  difclofe, 
Spring  from  her  bofom  threw  the  fhadowing  rofc  j 
Ear'd  die  pure  fnow  tkat  feeds  the  lover's  fire, 
The  brcaft  that  thrills  with  exquifite  defire; 
Affum'd  the  tender  fmile,  the  melting  eye, 
The  breath fovonian,  and  the  yielding  figh. 
One  beauteous  hand  a  wilding's  bloffom  grac'd, 
And  one  fell  carelefs  o'er  her  zonelefs  waiit, 

Majeflic  fummer,  in  gay  pride  adorn'd, 
Her  rival  filter's  fimple  beauty  fcorn'd. 
With  purple  wreaths  her  lofty  brows  were  bound, 
With  glowing  flowers  her  rifing  bofom  crown'd. 
(n  her  gay  zone,  by  artful  fancy  frani'd, 
The  bright  rofe  blufh'd,  the  full  carnation  flam'd. 
Her  cheeks  the  glow  of  fplendid  clouds  difplay, 
And  her  eyes  flafh  infufferable  day. 

With  milder  air  the  gentle  Autumn  came, 
But  feem'd  to  languifh  at  her  filter's  flame. 
Yet,  confcious  of  her  boundlefs  wealth,  fhe  bore 
On  high  the  emblems  of  her  golden  {lore. 
Yet  could  fhe  boaft  the  plenty-pouring  hand, 
The  liberal  fmile,  benevolent  and  bland. 
Nor  might  fhe  fear  in  beauty  to  excel, 
From  wnofe  fair  head  fuch  golden  trefles  fell ; 
Nor  might  fhe  envy  fummer 's  flowery  zone, 
In  whole  f\vt  ct  eye  the  ftar  of  evening  fhone. 

Next  the  Pale  Power,  that  blots  the  golden  fky, 
Wreath'd  her  grim  brows,  and  roll'd  her  ftormy 
eye \  [ground, 

"  Behold,"  fhe  cried,  with  voice  that  Ihook  the 
(The  bard,  the  fi/lcrs  trembled  at  the  iouud) 
"  Ye  weak  admirers  of  a  grape,  or  rofe, 
"  Behold  my  wild  magnificence  of  fnows  ! 

Sec  my  keen  fioft  her  glafly  bofom  bare  J 

Mock  the  faint  fun,  and  bind  the  fluid  air  ! 

Nature  to  you  may  lend  a  painted  hour, 

With  you  may  fpyrt,  when  I  fufpcnd  my  power. 

But  you  and  nature,  who  that  power  obey, 

Shall  own  my  beauty,  or  fhall  dread  my  fway." 

She  fpoke  :  the  bard,  whofe  gentle  heart  ne'er 

gave 

One  pain  or  trouble  that  he  knew  to  fave, 
No  favour'd  nymph  extols  with  partial  lays, 
But  gives  to  each  her  picture  fof -her  praife. 

Mute  lies  his  lyre  in  death's  uncheerful  gloom, 
And  truth  and  genius  weep  at  Thoinfon's  tomb. 

Yet  ftill  the  mufe's  living  founds  pervade 
Her  ancient  fcenes  of  Caledoiiian  fhade. 
Still  nature  l.ftens  to  the  tuneful  lay, 
On  Kilo.a's  mountain's  and  in  Endermay. 

Th'  ethercitl  brilliance  of  poetic  fir$, 
The  mighty  hand"  that  fmhes-the  founding  lyre ; 


POEMS. 


1  Strains  that  on  fhncys's  ftrengeft  pinion  rife. 
Conceptions  vaft.anJ  thoughts  that  grafp  the  flcies, 
To  the  rapt   youth  that  mus'd  on  *  Shaklpeare's 

grave. 

To  Ogilvie  the  mufe  of  Pindar  gave.' 
•f  Time,  as  he  fung,  a  moment  ceav'd  to  fly, 
And  lazy  f  fleep  unfolded  half  his  eye. 

O  wake,  fweet  bard,  the  Theban  lyre  again ; 
With  ancient  valour  fwell  the  founding  drain. 
Hail  the  high  trophies  by  thy  country  won, 
The  wreaths  that  flourim  for  each  valiant  fon. 

While  Hardyknute  frowns  red  with  Norway's 

gore, 

Paint  her  pale  matrons  weeping  on  the  fhore. 
Hark  !  the  green  clarion  pouring  floods  of  breath 
Voluminaufly  loud  :  high  fcorn  of  death 
Each  gallant  fpirit  elates  !  fee  Rothfay's  thane 
With  arm  of  mountain  oak  his  firm  bow  ftrainl 
Hark  !    the  firing  ^twangs— the  whizzing  arrow 

flies ; 

The  fierce  Norfe  falls— indignant  falls — and  dies. 
O'er  the  dear  urn,  where  glorious  §  Wallace  fleeps, 
True  valour  bleeds,  and  patriot  virtue  weeps. 
Son  of  the  lyre,  what  high  ennobling  ftrain, 
What  meed  from  thee  fhall  generous  Wallace  gain  ? 
Who  j>reatly  fcorning  an  ufurper's  pride, 
Bar'd  his  brave  breail  for  liberty,  and  died. 

Boaft,  Scotland,  boaft  thy  fons  of  mighty  name, 
Thine  ancient  chiefs  of  high  heroic  fame. 
Souls  that  to  death  their  country's  foes  oppos'd, 
And  life  in  freedom,  glorious  freedom  closM. 

Where,  yet  bcwail'd,  Argyll's  j|  warm  afhes  lie, 
Let  mufic  breathe  her  moft  perfuafive  figh. 
To  him,  what  Hea'ven  to  man  couid  give,  it  gave, 
Wife,  generous,  honcft,  eloquent  and  brave. 
Genius  and  valour  for  Argyll  lhall  mourn, 
And  his  OWH  laurels  flourifli  round  his  urn. 
O,  may  they  bloom  beneath  a  fav'ring  fky, 
And  in  their  fhade  reproach  and  envy  die ! 

THE  VISIONS  OF  FANCY. 

IN   FOUR  ELEGIES,    Ij6z. 

La  raifon  fgait  que  c'eft  un  Songe, 

Mais  elle  en  faifit  les  douceurs: 

Elle  a  befoin  de  ces  fantomes, 

Prefque  tous  les  plaifirs  des  homines 

Ne  font  que  de  douces  erreurt.        CRESSET. 

ELEGY   I. 

CHILDREN  of  fancy,  whither  are  ye  fled  ? 

Where   have   you  borne   thofe  hope-enliven'd 

hours, 

That  once  with  myrtle  garlands  bound  my  head. 
That   once    beflrew'd    my   vernal    path   with 
flowers  ? 

*  See  Mr.   Qgilvie't   Odi  to  tie  Genius  of  Sbul- 
Jpearc. 
•    f   OJe  to  Time.     HiJ. 

|  OJe  to  Sleep.     Ibid. 

§  William  Wallace,  ti-kt  after  Iramly  defending 
til  country  againji  the  arms  of  Edward  I.  teas  executed 
tu  it  rebel,  though  be  bad  taken  no  oath  of  allegiance. 

H   ArcbtlaU,  tie  third  D*kt  of  Argyll,  died  April 


In  yon  fair  vale,  where  blooms  the  becchcn  grove 
Where  \vmds  the  llow  wave  through  the  flowery- 
plain, 

To  thele  fond  arms  you  led  the  tyrant,  love, 
With  fear,  and  hope,  and  folly  in  his  train. 

My  lyre,  that,  left  at  carelefs  diftance,  hung 
Light  on  fome  pale  branch  of  the  ofier  fliade. 

To  lays  of  amorous  blandiihment  you  lining, 
And  o'er  my  fleep  the  lulling  mufic  play'd. 

"  Reft,   gentle  youth!    while  on  the  quiverinj 

"  breeze 

"  Slides  to  rliine  ear  this  foftly  breathing  ftrain ; 
"  Sounds  that  move  fmoother  than  the  fteps  of 

"  eafe, 
"  And  pour  oblivion  in  the  eaf  of  pain. 

"  In  this  fair  vale  eternal  fpring  fliall  fmile, 
"  And  time  unenvious  crown  each  rofeate  hoar; 

"  Eternal  joy  fliall  every  care  beguile,  [flower. 
"  Breathe  in  each  gale,  and  bloom  in  every 

"  This  filver  ftream,  that  down  its  cryftal  way( 
"  Frequent  has  led  thy  mufing  fteps  along, 

"  Shall  ftill  the  fame,  in  funny  mazes  play, 
"  And  with  its  murmurs  melodize  thy  fong. 

"  Unfading  green  fliall  thefe  fair  groves  adorn ; 

"  Thofe  living  meads  immortal  flowers  unfold; 
"  In  rofy  fmiles  fliall  rife  each  blulhing  morn, 

"  And  every  evening  clofe  in  clouds  of  gold. 

"  The  tender  loves  that  watch  thy  flumbering  reft, 

"  And  round  the  flowers  and  balmy  myrtles 

"  ftrew,  [breall. 

"  Shall  charm,  through  all  approaching  life,  thy 
"  With  joys  for  ever  pure,  lor  ever  new. 

"  The  genial  power  that  fpeeds  the  golden  dart, 
"  Each  charm  of  tender  pafiion  fliall  infpire; 

"  With  fond  affection  fill  the  mutual  heart, 
"  And  feed  the  flame  of  ever -young  ckfire. 

"  Come,  gentle  loves !  your  myrtle  garlands  bring; 

"  The  fmiling  bower  with  cluftcr'd  roles  fpread; 
•'  Come, gentle  airs!  with  incenfe-dropping  wing 

"  The  breathing  fweets  of  vernal  odour  flicd. 

"  Hark,  as  the  drains  of  fwelling  mufic  rife, 
"  How  ^ie  notes  vibrate  on  the  fav'ring  gale ! 

"  Aufpicious  glories  b<.  am  along  the  flcies, 

"And  powers  unfeen  the  happy  moments  hail! 

"  Ecftatic  hour? !  fo  every  diflant  day 

"  Like  this  fereneon  downy  wings  fliall  move; 

"  R!fe  crown'd  with  joys  that  triumph  o'er  decay, 
"  The  faithful  joys  of  fancy  and  of  love." 

ELEGY  II. 

AND  were  they  vain,  thofe  Toothing  lay*  he  fung^ 
Children  of  fancy  !  Yes,  your  fong  was  vain  ; 

On  each  foft  air  though  rapt  attention  hung, 
And  filence  liften'd  on  the  fleeping  plain. 

The  ftrairs  yet  vibrate  on  my  ravifli'd  ear, 
And  fiill  to  fmile  the  mimic  beauties  feent, 

Though  now  the  vifionary  fcencs  appear, 
Like  the  faint  traces  of  a  vanifli'd  dream. 

V.iiror  of  life  !  the  glories  thus  depart 
Of  all  thit  youth,  and  love,  and  fancy  frame, 


THE   WORltS   OF   LANGHORNE. 


When  painful  anguifh  fpeeds  the  piercing  dart, 
Or  envy  blafts  the  blooming  flowers  of  fame. 

Nurfe  of  wild  wifhes,  and  of  fond  defires, 
The  prophetefs  of  fortune,  falfe  and  vain, 

To  fcenes  where  peace  in  ruin's  arms  expires 
Fallacious  hope  deludes  her  haplefs  train. 

Co,  fyren,  go,— —thy  charms  on  others  try; 

My  beaten  bark  at  length  has  reach'd  thc&ore; 
Yet  on  the  rock  ray  drooping  garments  lie ; 

And  let  me  perifh,  if  I  tfuft  thee  more. 

Come,  gentle  quiet !  long-neglefted  maid  ! 
•    O  come,  and  lead  me  to  thy  mofTy  cell ; 
There  unregarded  in  the  peaceful  {hade, 
With  calm  repofe  and  filence  let  me  dwell. 

Come  happier  hours  of  fweet  unanxious  reft, 
When  all  the  ftruggling  paflion?  mould  fubfide; 

When  peace  fhall  clafp  m .  to  her  plumy  bread, 
And  fmooth  my  filent  minutes  as  they  glide. 

But  chief,  thou  goddefs  of  the  thoughtlefs  eye, 
Whom  never  cares  or  pailions  difcompofe, 

O  bleft  infenfibility  be  nigh, 

And  with  thy  foothjpg  hand  my  weary  eyelids 
clofe. 

Then  fhall  the  cares  of  love  and  glory  ceafe, 

And  all  the  fond  anxieties  of  fame ; 
Alike  regardlefsin  the  arms  of  peace, 

If  thefe  extol,  or  thofe  debafe  a  name. 

In  Lyttelton  though  all  the  mufes  praife, 

His  generous  praife  (hall  then  delight  no  more, 

Nor  the  fweet  magic  of  his  tender  lays 

Shall  touch  the  bofom  which  it  charm'd  before. 

Nor  then,  though  malice,  with  infidious  guife 
Of  friendftiip,  ope  the  unfufpecfting  breaft  ; 

Nor  then,  though  envy  broach  her  blackening  lies, 
Shall  thefe  deprive  me  of  a  moment's  reft. 

O  ftate  to  be  defir'd !  when  hoftile  rage 
,    Prevails  in  human  more  than  favage  haunts ; 
When  man  wkh  man  eternal  war  will  wage, 
And  never  yield  that  mercy  which  he  wants. 

When  dark  defign  invades  the  cheerful  hour ; 

And  draws  the  heart  with  focial  freedom  warm, 
Its  cares,  its  wifhes,  and  its  thoughts  to- pour, 

Smiling  infi'dious  with  the  hopes  of  harm. 

Vain  man,  t»  other's  failings  {till  fevere, 
Yet  not  one  foible  in  himfelf  can  find  ; 

Another's  faults  to  folly's  eye  are  clear, 
But  to  her  dwrie'en  wifdom's  felf  is  blind. 

O  let  me  ftill,  from  thefe  low  follies  free, 
This  fordid  malice,  and  inglorious  flrife, 

Myfelf  the  fubjeiS  of  my  cenfure  be, 
And  teach  my  heart  to  comment  on  my  life. 

With  thee,  philofophy,  ftill  let  me  dwell, 

My  tutor'd  mind  from  vulgar  meannefs  fave; 

Bring  peace,  bring  quiet  to  my  humble  cell, 
And  bid  them  lay  ihe  green  turf  on  my  grave. 

ELEGY  III. 

BRIGHT  o'er  the  green  hills  rofe  the  morning  ray, 
The  wood-lark's  fong  refounded  on  the  plain ; 

Fnir  nature  felt  the  warm  embrace  of  day, 
And  fmil'd  through  all  her  animated  reign. 
S 


When  young  delight,  of  hope  and  fancy  born, 
His  head  on  tufted  wild  thyme  half  reclin'd, 

Caught  the  gay  colours  of  the  orient  morn, 
And  thence  of  life  this  pidture  vain  defign'd. 

"  O  born  to  thoughts,  to  pleafures  more  fublime 
"  Than  beings  of  inferior  nature  prove  ! 

"  To  triumph  in  the  golden  hours  of  time, 
"  And  feel  the  charms  of  fancy  and  of  love ! 

"  High-favour'd  man  !  for  him  unfolding  fair 
"  In  orient  light  this  native  landfcape  failles ; 

"  For  him  fweet  hope  difarms  the  hand  of  care, 
"  Exalts  his  pleafures,  and  his  grief  beguiles. 

"  Blows  not  a  blofibm  on  the  breaft  of  fpring,*' 
"  Breathes  not  a  gale  along  the  bending  mead, 

"  Trills  not  a  fongfter  of  the  foaring  wing, 
"  But  fragrance,  health  and  melody  fucceed. 

"  O  let  me  ftill  with  fimple  nature  live, 
"  My  lowly  field-flowers  on  her  altar  lay, 

"  Enjoy  the  bleffings  that  fhe  meant  to  give, 
"  And  calmly  wafte  my  inoffenfive  day ! 

"  No  titled  name,  no  en  vy-teafing  dome, 

"  No  glittering  wealth  my  tutor'd  wifhes  crave; 

"  So  health  and  peace  be  near  my  humble  home, 
"  A  cool  ftream  murmur,  and  a  green  tree  wuvc. 

"  So  may  the  fweet 'Euterpe  not  difdain  , 

"  At  Eve's  chafte  hour  her  filver  lyre  to  bring ; 

"  The  mufe  of  pity  wake  her  foothing  ftrain, 
"  And  tune  tofympathy  the  trembling  firing. 

"  Thus  glide  the  penfive  moments,  o'er  the  vale 
"  While  floating  fhades  of  duiky  night  defcend » 

"  Nor  left  untold  the  lover's  tender  tale, 
"  Nor  unenjcy'd  the  heart-enlarging  friend. 

"  To  love  and  friendfhip  flow  the  focial  bowl ! 

"  To  Attic  wit  and  elegance  of  mind  ; 
"  To  all  the  native  beauties  of  the  foul, 

"  The  fimple  charms  of  truth,  and  fenfe  refin'd ! 

"  Then  to  explore  whatever  ancient  fage 

"  Studious  from  nature's  early  volume  drew, 

"  To  chafe  fweet  fi&iori  through  her  golden  age, 
"  And  mark  how  fair  the  fun  flower,  fciencc, 
»  blew! 

"  Haply  to  catch  fome  fpark  of  eaftern  fire, 
".Hefperian  fancy,  or  Aonian  cafe  ;     • 

"  Some  melting  note  from  Sappho's  tender  lyre, 
"  Some  ftrain  that  love  and  Phoebus  taught  to 
"  pleafe. 

"  When  waves  the  gray  light  o'er  the  mountain's 

'I  head, 
"  Then  let  me  meet  the  morn's  firft  beauteous 

"  ray  ; 
"  Carelefsly  wander  from  my  fylvan  fhed, 

"  And  catch  the  fweet  breath  of  the  rifing  day. 

"  Nor  feldom,  loit'ring  as  I  mufe  along, 

"  Mark  from  what  flower  the  breeze  its  fwecN' 
"  nefs  bore ; 

"  Or  liften  to  the  labour-foothing  fong 

"  Of  bees  that  range  the  thymy  uplands  o'er. 

"  Slow  let  me  climb  the  mountain's  airy  brow. 

"  The  green  height  gain'd,  in  mufefulrapture  lie, 
"  Sleep  to  the  murmur  of  the  woods  below, 

"  Or  look  to  nature  with  a  lover's  eye. 


POEMS. 


|  «*  Delightful  hours !  0,  thus  For  ever  flow ; 

"  Led  by  fair  fancy  round  the  varied  year : 
w  So  fhall  my  breaft  with  native  raptures  glow, 
'*  Nor  feel  one  pang  from  folly,  pride,  or  fear. 

I  «*  Firm  be  my  heart  to  nature  and  to  truth, 

"  Nor  vainly  wander  from  their  dictates  fage  ; 

I  "  So  joy  fhall  triumph  on  the  brows  of  youth, 
"  So  hope  fhall  fmooth  the  dreary  paths  of  age. 

ELEGY  IV. 

OH  !  yet,  ye  dear,  deluding  vifions  flay ! 

Fond  hopes  of  innocence  and  fancy  born  ! 
For  you  I'll  caft  thefe  waking  thoughts  away, 

For  one  wild  dream  of  life's  romantic  morn. 

Ah  !  no  :  the  funihine  o'er  each  object  fpread 
By  flattering  hope,  the  flowers  that  blew  fo  fair ; 

Like  the  gay  gardens  of  Armida  fled, 
A'nd  vanifh'd  from  the  powerful  rod  of  care. 

So  the  poor  pilgrim,  who  in  rapturous  thought 
Plans  his  dear  journey  to  Loretto's  fhrine, 

Seems  on  his  way  by  guardian  feraphs  brought, 
Sees  aiding  angels  favour  his  defign. 

Ambrofial  bloflbms,  fuch  of  old  as  blew 

By  thofe  frelh  founts  on  Eden's  happy  plain, 

And  Sharon's  rofesall  his  paflage  ftrew  : 

So  fancy  dreams ;  but  fancy's  dreams  are  vain. 

Wafted  and  weary  on  the  mountain's  fide, 
His  way  unknown,  the  haplefs  pilgrim  lies, 

Or  takes  fbme  ruthlefs  robber  for  his. guide, 
And  prone  beneath  his  cruel  fabre  dies. 

Life's  morning-landfcape  gilt  with  orient  light, 
Where  hope  and  joy  and  fancy  hold  their  reign, 

The  grove's  green  wave,  the  blue  ftream  fpark- 

ling  bright,  [wain : 

The   blithe  hours  dancing  round    Hyperion's 

In  radiant  colours  youth's  free  hand  pourtrays, 
Then  holds  the  flattering  tablet  to  his  eye ; 

Nor  thinks  how  foon  the  vernal  grove  decays, 
Nor  fees  the  dark  cloud  gathering  o'er  the  fky. 

Hence  fancy  conquer'd  by  the  dart  of  pain, 
And  wandering  far  from  her  Platonic  fhade, 

Mourns  o'er  the  ruins  of  her  tranfient  reign, 
Nor  unrepining  fees  her  vifions  fade. 

Their  parent  banifh'd,  hence  her  children  fly, 
•    Their  fairy  race  that  fill'd  her  feftive  train  ; 
Joy  rears  his  wreath,  and  hope  inverts'her  eye, 
And  folly  wonders  that  her  dream  was  vain. 

A  POEM, 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MR.  HANDEL,    1760*, 

SPIRITS  of  mufic,  and  ye  powers  of  fong ! 

That  wak'd  to  painful  melody  the  lyrei 

Of  young  Jeflides,  when,  in  Sion's  vale 

.He  wept  o'er  bleeding  friendfhip:  ye  that  mourn'd 

While  freedom  drooping  o'er  Euphrates'  flrcam, 

Her  penfive  harp  on  the  pale  ofier  hung, 

Begin  once  more  the  forrow-foothing  lay. 

Ah !  where  fhall  now  the  mufe  fit  numbers  find? 
What  accents  pure  to  greet  thy  tuneful  fhade, 

*  HceKtdiqtb  April  1759. 


Sweet  harmonifl  ?  'twas  thine,  the  tender  fall 
3f  pity's  plaintive  lay  ;  for  thee  the  ftream      " 
Of  River-winding  mufic  fweeter  play'd, 
And  purer  flow'd  for  thee, — all  filent  now 
*  Thofe  airs  that,  breathing  o'er  the  bread  «? 

Thames, 

Led  amorous  echo  down  the  long,  long  vale, 
Delighted:  ftudious from  thy  fveeter  ftrain 
To  melodize  her  own;  when  fancy-lorn, 
She  mourns  in  anguilh  o'er  the  drooping  breafl 
Of  young  Narciflus.  From  their  amber  urns, 
f  Parting  their  green  locks  ftreaming  in  the  fun, 
The  naiads  rofe  and  fmil'd :  nor  fince  tXe  day, 
When  fir  ft  by  mufic,  and  by  freedom  led 
From  Grecian  Acidale  ;  nor  fince  the  day, 
When  laft  from  Arno's  weeping  fount  they  came, 
To  fmooth  the  ringlets  of  Sabrina's  hair, 
Heard  they  like  minftrelfy — fountains  and  fhades 
Of  Twit'nam,  and  of  Windfor  fam'd  in  fcng  ! 
Ye  heights  of  Clermont,  and  ye  bowers  of  Ham ! 
That  heard  the  fine  ftrain  vibrate  through  your 

grcves, 

Ah  !  where  were  then  your  long-lov'd  mufes  fled, 
When  Handel  breath'd  no  more  ? — and  thou,fweet 

queen, 

That  nightly  wrapt  thy  Milton's  hallow 'd  ear 
In  the  foft  ecftafies  of  Lydian  airs; 
\  That  fince  attun'd  to  Handel's  high-wound  lyre 
The  lay  by  thee  fuggefted  ;  could'ft  not  thou 
Sooth   with   thy   f'weet  fong  the  £rim  §  fury's 

breaft  ? 

Cold-hearted  death !  his  wanly-glaring  eye 
Nor  virtue's  fmile  attracls,  nor  fame's  loud  trump 
Can  pierce  his  iron  ear,  for  ever  barr'd 
To  gentle  founds :  the  golden  voice  of  fong, 
That  charms  the  gloomy  partner  of  his  birth, 
That  fooths  defpair  and  pain,  he  hears  no  mort, 
Than  rude  winds,  bluft'ring  from  the  Cambrian 

cliffs, 

The  traveller's  fccb'.e  lay.  To  court  fan*  fame, 
To  toil  with  flow  fteps  up  the  ftar-crown'd  hill, 
Where  fcicnce,  leaning  on  her  fculptur'd  urn, 
Looks  confcious  on  the  fecret-working  hand 
Of  nature  .  on  the  wings  of  genius  borne, 
To  foar  above  the  beaten  walks  of  life, 
Is  like  die  paintings  of  an  evening  cloud, 
Th'  aniuiement  of  an  hour.  Night,  gloomy  night 
Spreads  her  black  wings,  and  aU  the  vifion  dies. 

I' re  long,  the  heart,  that  heaves  this  figh  to  theo, 
Shall  beat  no  more  !  ere  long,  on  this  fond  lay 
Which  mourrs  at  Handel's  tomb,  infulting;  time 
Shall  ftrew  his  cankering  ruft.     Thy  ftrain,  per 
chance, 

Thy  facred  ftrain  fhall  the  boar  warrior  fpare ; 
For  founds  like  thine,  at  nature's  early  birth, 
Arous'd  him  Cumbering  on  the  dead  profound 
Of  dufky  Chaos ;  by  the  golden  harps 
Of  choral  angels  fummon'd  to  his  race  : 
And  founds  like  thine,  when  nature  is  no  more,. 
Shall  call  him  weary  from  the  lengthened  toils 
Of  twice  ten  thoufand  years. — O  would  his  hand 

*   The  luater-ntiifi,:* 

r  Rorantcfq.  comas  a  fronte  rcmcvjt  ad  aurej. 
OVID.  MIT. 

\  L 'Allegro  and  It Penfercfv,  fit  to  tpujic  iy  A%- 
Handel. 

§  Set  Mllttns  Ly  ciiia  t. 


THE  WORKS   OFLANtiHORNE. 


Yet  fpare  fome  portion  of  this  vital  flame, 
The  trembling  mufe  that  now  faint  effort  makes 
On  young  and  artlefs  wing,  fhould  bear  thy  praife 
Sublime,  above  the  mortal  bounds  of  earth, 
With  heavenly  fire  relume  her  feeble  ray, 
And,  taught  by  feraphs,  frame  her  fong  for  thee. 

I  feel,  Ffeel  the  facred  impulfe — hark  ! 
Wak'd  from  according  lyres  the  fweet  ftrains  flow 
In  fymphony  divine  ;  from  air  to  air 
The  trembling  numbers  fly  :  fwift  burfts  away 
The  flow  of  joy — now  fwells  the  flight  of  praife. 
Springs  the  fhrill  trump  aloft ;  the  toiling  chords 
Melodious  labour  through  the  flying  maze  ; 
And  the  deep  bafs  his  ftrong  found  rolls  away, 
Majeitically  fweet — Yet,  Handel,  raife, 
Yet  wake  to  higher  ftrains  thy  (acred  lyre  : 
The  name  of  ages,  the  fupreme  of  things, 
The  great  Meffiah  afks  it ;  he  whofe  hand 
Led  into  form  yon  everlafting  orbs, 
The  harmony  of  nature— Kt  whofe  hand 
Stretch'd  o'er  the  wilds  of  fpacethisbeauteousballj 
Whofe  fpirit  breathes  through  all  his  fmiling  works 
Mufic  and  love — yet  Handel  raife  the  ftrain. 

Hark  !  what  angelic  founds,  what  voice  divine 
Bt£athes  through  the  ravifh'd  air  1    my  rapt  ear 

feels 

The  harmony  of  heaven.     Hail  facred  choir ! 
Immortal  fpirits,  hail !  If  haply  thofe 
That  erft  in  far/our'd  Paleftine  proclaim'd 
Glory  and  .peace  :  her  angel-haunted  groves, 
Her  piny  mountains,  and  her  golden  vales, 
Re-echo'd  peace.  But,  oh  !  fufpend  the  ftrains — 
The  fwelling  joy's  too  much  for  mortal  bounds ! 
Tis  tranfport  even  to  pain. 

Yet,  hatk !  what  pleafing  founds  invite  mine  ear 
So  venerably  fweet  ?     'Tis  Sion's  lute. 
.Behold  her*  hero?  from  his  valiant  brow 
1  ooks  Judah's  lion,  on  his  thigh  the  fword 
Of  vahquifh'd  Apollouius— The  fhrill  trump 
Through  Bethoron  proclaimsth'  approaching  tight. 
I  fee  the  brave  youth  lead  his  little  band, 
With  toil  and  hunger  faint ;  yet  from  his  arm 
The  rapid  Syrian  flies.     Thus  Henry  once. 
The  Britifh  Henry,  with  his  wny-worn  troop, 
Subdu'd  the  pride  of  France — Now  louder  blows 
The  martial  clangor  ;  io,  Nicancr'shoft  ! 
With  threat'ning  turrets  crown'd,  flowly  advance 

The  ponderous  elephants > — 

The  blazing  fun,  from  many  a  golden  fliield 
Reflected,  gleams  afar.     Judean  chief! 
How  (hall  thy  force,  thy  little  force  futtain 
The  dreadful  fhock  '. 
f  The  hero  comes — 'Tis  boundlffs  mirth  and  fong, 
And  dance  and  triumph  ;  every  labouring  firing, 
And  voice,  and  breathing  flicll,  in  concert  ftrain, 
To  fwell  the  raptures  of  tumultuous  joy. 
O  mafter  of  the  paffions  and  the  foul, 
Stfraphic  Handel !  how  fliall  word's  defcribe 
Thy  mufk's  countlcfs  graces,  uamelefs  powers  I 
When  |  he  of  Gaza,  blind,  anti  funk  in  chains, 
On  female  treachery  looks  greatly  down, 
How  the  breaft  burns  indignant '.  in  thy  ftrain, 
When  fweet-voic'd  piety  refigns  to  heav«rt. 
Glows  cot  each  bulom  with  the  iiu:i:e  of  virtue  ? 


*  Judas  Maccahfus. 

t  Chorus  t,f  youths  in  Judas  '' 

J  See  tbx  Oratorio  of  Sanifw* 


O'er  Jephtha's  votive  maid,  when  the  foft  laier 
Sounds  the  flow  fymphony  of  funeral  grief, 
What  youthful  breaft  but  melts  with  tender  pityi 
What  parent  bleeds  not  with  a  parent's  woe  ? 

O,  longer  than  this  worthy  lay  can  live  ! 
While  fame  and  mufic  i'ooth.  the  human  ear  ! 
Be  this  thy  praife  :  to  lead  the  polifh'd  fhind 
To  virtue's nobleft  heights;  to  light  the  flame 
Of  Britifh  freedom,  roufethe  generous  thought, 
Refine  the  paffions,  and  exalt  the  foul 
To  love,  to  heaven,  to  harmony,  and  theev 

THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF  THE  MIND. 

EPISTLE  li 

To  General  Craufurd.  Written  at  Behidere,  1763. 

WHERE  is  the  man,  who,  prodigal  of  mind, 
In  one  wild  wifh  embraces  humankind  ? 
All  pride  effects,  all  party  zeal  above, 
Whofe  prieft  is  reafon,  and  whofe  god  is  love  ; 
Fair  nature's  friend,  a  foe  to  fraud  and  art — 
Where  is  the  man  fo  welcome  to  my  heart  ? 
The  fightlefs  herd  fequacious,  who  purfue 
Dull  folly's  path,  and  do  as  others  do, 
Who  look  with  purblind  prejudice  and  fcorn 
On  different  fects,  in  different  nations  born, 
Let  us,  my  Craufurd,  with  companion  view, 
Pity  their  pride,  but  fhun  their  en  or  too. 

From  Belvidere's   fair  groves,  and  mountains 

green, 

Which  nature  raisM,  rejoicing  to  be  feen, 
Let  us,  while  raptur'd  on  her  works  we  gaze, 
And  the  heart  rjots  on  luxurious  praife,  ' 
TV  expanded  thought,  the  boundlefs  wifh  retain, 
And  let  not  nature  moralize  in  vain. 

O  facred  guide  !  preceptrefs  more  fublime 
Than  fages  boafting  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time  ! 
See  on  each  page  her  beauteous  volume  bear 
The  golden  characters  of  good  and  fair. 
All  human  knowledge  (blufh  collegiate  pride)  ! 
Flows  from  her  works,  to  none  that  reads  denied. 

Shall  the  dull  inmate  of  pedantic  walls, 
On  whofe  old  walk  the  funbeam  feldcm  falls, 
Who  knows  of  nature,  and  of  man  no  more 

Than  fills  fome  page  of  antiquated  lore — 

Shall  he,  in  words  and  terms  profoundly  wife, 
The  better  knowledge  of  the  world  defpife, 
Think  wifdom'center'd  in  a  fahe  degree, 
And  fcorn  the  fcholar  of  humanity  ?  [know, 

Something  of   men   thefe  fapient  drones  may 
Of  men  that  liv'd  two  thoufand  years  ago. 
Such  human  monfters  if  the  world  e'er  knew, 
As  ancient  verfe  and  ancient  ftory  drew  ! 
If  to  one  object,  fyftem,  fcene  confin'd, 
The  fare  effect  is  narrownefs  of  mind. 

'Twas  thus  St.  Robert,  in  his  lonely  wood, 
Forfook  each  focial  duty — to  be  good. 
Thus  Hobbes  on  one  dear  fyftem  fix'd  his  eyes, 
And  prov'd  his  nature  wretched..- -to  be  wife. 
Each  zealot  thus,  elate  with  ghoftly  pride, 
Adores  bis  God,  and  hates  the  world  befide. 

Though  form'd  with  power*  to  grafp  this  va»' 

rious  ball, 

Gods  !  to  what  meannefs  may  the  fpirit  fall? 
Powers  that  fhould  Cure  ad  in  reafon's  orient  ray. 
How  are  they  darkei.'d,  and  debarr'd  the  day  ? 

\Vhen  late  where  T»jo  rolls  his  ancient  tide/1 
Refkcfcing  clear  the  mountain's  purple  fide, 


POEMS. 


Thy  genius,  Craufurd,  Britain's  legions  led,  - 
And  fear 's  chill  cloud forfook each hright'ning head, 
By  nature  brave,  and  generous  as  thou  art, 
Say  did  not  human  follies  vex  thy  heart  ? 
Glow'd  not  thy  bread  indignant,  when  you  faw 
The  dome  of  murder  confecratc  by  law  ? 
Where  fiends,  commiflion'd  with  the  legal  rod, 
In  pure  devotion,  burn  the  works  of  God. 
"O  change  me,  powers  of  nature,  if  ye  can, 
Transform  me,  make  me  any  thing  but  man. 
Yet  why  ?  This  heart  all  human  kind  forgives, 
While   Gillman  loves  me,  and   while  Craufurd 

lives. 

Is  nature,  all-benevolent,  to  blame, 
That  haif  her  offspring  are  their  mother's  fliame  ? 
Did  {he  ordain  o'er  this  fair  fcene  of  things 
The  cruelty  of  priefts,  or  pride  of  kings  ?     [fame, 
Though  worlds  lie  murder 'd  for  their  wealth  or 
Ls  nature,  all-benevolent,  to  blame  ? 

"  Yet  furely  once,  my  friend,  fKe  feem'd  to  err ; 
"  For  W — ch — t  was" — He  was  not  made  by  her. 
Sure,  form'd  of  clay  that  nature  held  -In  fcorn, 
By  fiends  conitru&ed,  and  in  daiknefs  born, 
Rofe  the  low  wretch,  who,  defpicably  vile, 
\Voiald  fell  his  country  for  a  courtier's  fmile; 
"Would  give  up  all  to  truth  and  freedom  dear, 
To  dine  with  ****  or  fome  idiot  peer, 
Whofe  mean  malevolence,  in  dark  difguife 
The  man  that  never  injur'd  him  belies, 
Whofe  actions  bad  and  good  two  motives  guide, 
The  ferpent's  malice,  and  the  coxcomb's  pride. 
"  Is  there  a  wretch  fo  mean,  fo  bafe,  fo  low  ?" 
I  know  there  is — aik  W — ch — -t  if  he  know. 

O  that  the  world  were  emptied  of  its  flaves  ! 
That  all  the  fools  were  gone,  and  all  the  knaves ! 
Then  might  we,  Craufurd,  with  delight  embrace, 
Inboundlefs  love  the  reft  of  human  race. 
But  let  not  knaves  mifanthropy  create, 
Nor  feel  the  gall  of  univerfal  hate. 
Wherever  genius,  truth,  and  virtue  dwell, 
Polifh'd  in  courts,  or  fimple  in  a  cell. 
All  views  of  country,  fe<5ts,  and  creeds  apart, 
Thefe,  thefe  I  love,  and  hold  them  to  my  heart. 

Vain  of  our  beauteous  Hie,  and  juftly  vain, 
For  freedom  here,  and  health,  and  plenty  reign, 
We  different  lots  contemptuoufly  compare, 
And  boaft,  like  children,  of  a  favourite's  fliare. 

Yet  though  each  vale  a  deeper  verdure  yields, 
Than  Arno's  banks,  or  Andalufia's  fields. 
Though  many  a  tree-crown'd  mountain    teems 

with  ore, 

Though  flocks  innumerous  whiten  every  fhore, 
Why  ihould  we,  thus  with  nature's  wealth  elate, 
Behold  her  different  families  with  hate  ? 
Look  on  her  works— on  every  page  you'll  find 
Infcrib'd  the  doctrine  of  the  fociul  mind- 

See  countlefs  worlds  of  infect,  being  lhare 
Th'  unenvied  regions  of  the  liberal  air  ! 
In  the  fame  grove  what  mufic  void  of  ft  rife  ! 
Heirs  of  one  ftream  what  tribes  of  fcaly  life ! 
See  earth,  and  air,  and  fire,  and  flood  combine 
Of  general  good  to  aid  the  great  defign  ! 

"Where  Ancon  drags  o'er  Lincoln's  lurid  plain, 
Like  a  flow  make,  his  dirty  winding  train, 
Where  fogs  eternal  blot  the  face  of  day, 
And  the.  loft  bittern  moans  his  gloomy  way ; 
As  well  we  might,  for  unpropitious  ikies, 
The  blamelefs  native  with  his  clime  defpife, 
VOL.  XI.' 


As  him  who  ftill  the  poorer  lot  partakes 
Of  Bifcay's  mountains,  or  Batavia's  hikes. 

Yet  look  once  more  on  nature's  various  plan ! 
lehold,  and  love  her  nobleft  creature,  man!  , 

She,  never  partial,  on  each  various  zone, 
Jeflow'd  fome  portion  to  the  roll  unknown, 
^y  mutuai  intereft  meaning  thence  to  bind 
n  one  vaft  chain  the  co.rimerce  of  mankind. 

Behold,  ye  vain  diflurbers  of  an  hour  ! 
Ye  dupes  of  faction  !  and  ye  tools  of  power  ! 
>oor  rioter's  on  life's  contracted  Rage  ! 
Behold,  and  lofe  your  littknefs  of  rage  ! 
Throw  envy,  folly,  prejudice,  behind  ! 
And  yield  to  truth  the  empire  of  the  mind. 

Immortal  truth  !  O  from  thy  radiant  flirine, 
Where  light  created  firft  effay'd  to  fhine; 
Where  cluftVing  ftars  eternal  beams  difplay, 
And  gems  ethereal  drink  the  golden  day  ; 
To  chafe  this  moral,  clear  this  fenfual  night, 
0  fhed  0112  ray  of  thy  celcftial  light ! 
Teach  us,  while  wandering  through  the  vale  be* 

low, 
We  know  but  little,  that  we  .little  know. 

ne  beam  to  mole-ey'd  prejudice  convey, 
Let  pride  perceive  one  mortifying  ray; 
Thy  glafs  to  fools,  to  infidels  apply, 
And  all  the  dimnefs  of  the  mental  eye. 

Pkic'don  this  fhore  of  time's  far-ftretchir.g  bourn, 
With  leave  to  look  on  nature  and  return  ; 
While  wave  on  wave  impels  the  human  tide, 
And  ages  fink,  forgotten  as  they  glide  ; 
Can  life's  fhort  duties  better  be  difcharg'd, 
Than  when  we  leave  it  with  a  mind  enlarg'd  ? 

Judg'd  not  the  old  philofopher  aright, 
When  thus  ye  preach,  his  pupils  in  his  fight? 
"  It  matters  not,  my  friends,  how  low  or  high, 
Your  little  walk  of  tranfient  life  may  lie ; 
Soon  will  the  reign  of  hope  and  fear  be  o'er, 
And  warring  paffions  militate  no  more  : 
And  trull  me,  he  who  having  once  furvey'd 
The  good  and  fair,  which  nature's  wifdom  made, 
The  fooneft  to  his  former  ftate  retires, 
And  feels  the  peace  of  fatisfied  defires, 
(Let  others  deem  more  wifely  if  they  can) 
I  look  on  him  to  be  the  happieft  man." 

So  thought  the  facred  fage,  in  whom  I  trxjft, 
Becaufe  I  feel  his  fentiments  arc  juft, 
'Twas  not  in  luftrums  of  long  counted  years 
That  fwell'dth'  alternate  reign  of  hopes  and  fears; 
Not  in  the  fplendid  fcenes  of  pain  and  ftrife, 
That  wifdom  plac'd  the  dignity  of  life  ; 
To  ftudy  nature  was  the  tafkdefign'd, 
And  learn  from  her  th'  enlargement  of  the  mind ; 
Learn  from  her  works  whatever  truth  admires, 
And  fleep  in  death  with  fatisfied  defires, 

THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF  THE  MIND. 

EPISTLE    If. 

Ta  William  La;ig!>orne,  M.  A.  1765. 
LICTIIT  heard  his  voice,  and,  eager  to  obey, 
From  all  her  orient  fountains  burft  away. 

At  nature's  birth,  O  !  had  the  power  divine 
Commanded  thus  the  moral  fun  to  fhine, 
Beam'd  on  the  mind  all  reafon's  influence  bright, 
And  the  full  day  of  intellectual  light, 
Then  the  free  ioul,  on  truth's  ftrong  pinion  bor 
Had  never  languifh'd  in  this  fcadc  iorlprn. 
P 


226 


THE  WORKS   OF  LANGHORNE. 


Yet  thu«  imperfect  form'd,  thus  blind  and  vain, 
Doom'd  by  long  toil  a  gUmpfe  of  truth  to  gain  ; 
Beyond  its  fphere  fhall  human  wifdom  go, 
.And  boldly  cenfuie  what  it  cannot  know  ? 
*  I'is  our's  to  cherifh  what  Heav'n  deign'd  to  give, 
And  thankful  for  the  gift  of  being  live. 

Progreflive  powers,  and  faculties  that  rife 
From  earth's  low  vale,  to  grafp  the  golden  fkics, 
Though  diftant  far  from  perfect,  good  or  fair, 
Claim  the  due  thought,  and  a&  the  grateful  care. 

Come,  then,  thou  partner  o!' my  life  and  name, 
From  one  dear  fource,  whom  nature  form'd  the 

fame, 

Ally'd  more  nearly  in  each  nobler  part, 
And  more  the  friend  than  brother  of  my  heart ! 
Let  us,  unlike  the  lucid  twins  that  rife 
At  different  times,  and  fhine  in  diftant  fkics, 
With  mutual  eye  this>  mental  world  furvey, 
Mark  the  flow  rife  of  intellectual  day, 
View  reafon's  fource,  if  man  the  fource  may  find, 
And  trace  each  fcience  that  exalts  the  mind.  • 

"  Thou  felf-appointcd  lord  of  all  below  ! 
"  Ambitious  man,  how  little  doft  thou  know  ? 
"  For  once  let  fancy's  towering  thoughts  fubfide  ; 
"  Lock  on  thy  birth,  and  mortify  thy  pride  ! 
"  A  plaintive  wretch,  fo  blind,  fo  heiplcfs  born, 
"  The  brute  fagacious  might  behold  with  fcorn. 
"  How  foon.  when  nature  gives  him  to  the  day, 
"  In  ftrength  exulting,  does  he  bound  away  ! 
"  By  inftin&  led,  the  foflering  teat  he  finds, 
"  Sports  in  the  ray,  and  ihuns  the  fearching  winds. 
"  No  grief  he  knows,  he  feels  no  groundlefs  fear, 
"  Feeds  without  cries,  and  flceps  without  a  tear. 
"  Did  he  but  know  to  reafon  and  compare, 
"  See  here  the  vaffal,  and  the  mailer  there, 
"  What  ftrange  reflections  muft  the  fc£ne  afford, 
"  That  fhow'd  ihe  weaknefs  of  his  puling  lord." 

Thus  fophiftry  unfolds  her  fpacious  plan, 
Form'd  not  to  humble,  but  depreciate  man. 
Unjuft  the  cenfure,  if  unjuft  to  rate 
His  pow'rs  and  merits  from  his  infant  frate. 
For,  grant  the  children  of  the  flowery  vale 
By  inftinct  wifer,  and  of  limbs  more  hale, 
With  equal  eye  their  perfect  ftate  explore,  . 
And  all  the  vain  comparifon's  no  more. 

"  But  why  fhould  life,  fo  fhort  by  Heav'n  or- 

•  "  dain'd, 

«  Be  long  to  thoughtlefs  infancy  corfin'd— - 
''  To  thoughtlefs  infancy,  or  vainly  fage, 
"  Mourn  through  the  languors  of  declining  age  ?" 

O  blind  to  truth  !  to  nature's  wifdom  blind  ! 
And  all  that'fhe  directs,  or  Heav'n  defign'd  ! 
Behold  her  works  in  cities,  plains,  and  groves, 
All  life  that  vegetates,  and  life  that  moves ! 
In  due  proportion,  as  each  being  flays, 
In  perfect  life,  it  riles  and  decays. 

Is  man  long  helplefs  ?  Through  each  tender  hour, 
See  love  parental  watch  the  blooming  flow'r  ! 
By  op'ning  charms,  by  beauties  frefh  difplay'J, 
And  fweets  unfolding  fee  that  love  repaid  ! 

Has  age  its  pains  ?  For  luxury  it  may— 
The  temp'rate  wear  infenfibly  away, 
While  fage  experience,  and  reflection  clear 
Beam  a  gay  funfhine  on  life's  fading  year. 

Bnt  fee  from  age,  from  infant  weaknefs  fee, 
That  man  was  deftin'd  for  fociety  ? 
There  from  thofe  ills  a  fafe  retreat  behold, 
\Vftjrh  young  might  vanquilh,  or  afflict  him  old. 


"  That  in  proportion  as  each  being  ftays 

In  perfect  life,  it  rifes  and  decays 

Is  nature's  law— to  forms  alone  ccnfin'd, 
The  laws  of  matter  act  not  on  the  mind. 
Too  feebly,  fure,  its  faculties  mull  grow, 
And  reafon  bring.;  her  borrow'd  light  too  flow." 

O  !  flill  cenfotious?  art  thou  then  pofftfs'd 
Of  reafon's  power,  and  does  fhe  rule  thy  bread? 
Say  what  the  ufe — had  Providence  affign'd 
To  infant  years  maturity  of  mind  ? 
That  thy  pert  offspring,  as  their  father  wife, 
Might  fcorn  thy  precepts,  and  thy  pow'r  defpife? 
Or  mourn,  with  ill-match'd  faculties  at  ftrife, 
O'er  limbs  unequal  to  the  tafk  cf  life  ? 
To  feel  more  fenfibly  the  woes  that  wait 
On  every  period,  as  on  every  ftate  ; 
And  flight,  fad  convicts  of  the  painful  truth, 
The  happier  trifles  of  unthinking  youth  ? 

Conclude  we  then  the  progrcfs  of  the  mind, 
Ordain'd  by  wifdom  infinitely  kind; 
No  innate  knowledge  on  the  foul  impreft, 
No  birthright  inftinct  acting  on  the  breaft, 
No  natal  light,  no  beams  from  heaven  difplay'd, 
Dart  through  the  darknefs  of  the  mental  ihade. 
Perceptive  powers  we  hold  from  Heaven's  decree 
Alike  to  knowledge  as  to  virtue  free, 
In  both  a  liberal  agency  we  "bear, 
The  moral  here,  the  intellectual  there  ; 
And  hence  in  both  an  equal  joy  is  known, 
The  confcious  pleafure  of  an  act  our  own. 

When  firft  the  trembling  eye  perceives  the  day, 
External  forms  on  young  perception  play  ; 
External  forms  affect  the  mind  alone, 
Their  difl'rent  pow'rs  and  properties  unknown. 
See  the  pleas'd  infant  court  the  flaming  brand, 
Eager  te  grafp  the  glory  in  its  hand  ! 
The  cryfUl  wave  as  eagrtr  to  pervade 
Stretch  its  fund  arms  to  meet  the  fmiling  fhadi- ! 
When  memory's  call  the  mimic  words  obey, 
And  wing  the  thought  that  faulters  on  its  way; 
When  wife  experience  her  flow  verdict  draws, 
The  fure  effect  exploring  in  her  caufe, 
In  nature's  rude,  but  not  unfruitful  wild, 
Reflection  fjnings,  and  reafon  is  her  child: 
On  her  fuir  itockthe  blooming  cion  grows, 
And  brighter  through  revolving  leaions.  blows. 

All-beauteous  flow'r  !  immortal  fhaltthou  mine, 
When  dim  with  age  yon  golden  orbs  decline ; 
Thy  orient  bloom,  unconfcious  of  decay, 
Shall  fprtad  and  flourifh  in'  eternal  day. 

O  !  with  what  art,  my  friend,  what  early  care, 
Should  wifdom  cultivate  a  plant  fo  fair! 
How  fhould  her  eye  the  rip'ningmiud  revife, 
And  blaft  the  buds  of  foliy  as  they  rife  ! 
How  ihould  her  hand  with  induftry  rcftrain. 
The  thriving  growth  of  paffion's  fruitful  train, 
Afpiring  weeds,  whofe  lofty  arms  would  tow'r 
With  fatal  fhade  o'er  reafon's  tender  flow'r. 

From  low  purfuits  the  ductile  mind  to  fave, 
Cre.ds  that  contract,  and  vices  thatenflave; 
O'er  lii'e's  rough  feas  its  doubtful  courfe  to  fteer, 
Unbroke  by  av'rice,  bigot'ry,  or  fear ! 
For  this  fair  fcience  fpreads  her  light  afar, 
And  fills  the  bright  urn  of  her  eailern  ftar. 
The  liberal  power  in  no  fequefter'd  cells, 
No  moonfhinecourt  of  dreaming  fchoolmen  dwelk- 
Diftingiiifh'd  far  her  lofty  temple  ftands, 
Where  the  tall  mountain  looks  o'er  diftant  lauds; 


POEMS. 


All  round  her  throne  the  graceful  arts  appear, 
That  boaft  lhe  empire  of  the  eye  or  ear. 

See  favour'd  firft,  and  neareft  to  the  throne 
By  the  rapt  mien  of  muling  filence  known, 
Fled  from  herfelf,  the  pow'r  of  numbers  plac'd, 
Her  wild  thoughts  watch'd  by  harmony  and  tafte. 

There  (but  at  diltatice  never  meant  to  vie) 
The  full-tbrm'd  image  glancing  on  her  eye, 
See  lively  painting  '.  on  her  various  face, 
Quick^gliding  forms  a  moment  find  a  place; 
She  looks,  the  acts  the  character  (lie  gives, 
And  a  new  feature  in  each  feature  lives. 

See  Attic  eafe  in  feulpture's  graceful  air, 
Half  loofe  her  robe,  and  halt  unbound  her  hair ; 
To  life,  to  life,  (he  (railing  leems  to  call, 
And  down  her  fair  hands  negligently  fall. 

Laft,  but  not  meaneft  of  the  glorious  choir, 
See  mufic,  lilt'ning  to  an  angel's  lyre. 

Simplicity,  their  beauteous  handmjid  dreft 
By  nature,  bears  a  field-flower  on  her  breaft. 

O  arts  divine  !  O  magic  powers  that  move 
The  fprings  of  truth,  enlarging  truth,  and  love  ! 
Loft  in  the, r  charms  each  mean  attachment  end?, 
And  tafte  and  knowledge  thus  are  virtue's  friends. 

Thus  nature  deigns  to  fympathife  with  art, 
And  leads  the  moral  "beauty  to  the  heart ; 
There,  only  there,  that  ftrong  attraction  lies, 
Which  wakes  the  foul,  and  bids  her  graces  rife  ; 
Lives  in  thofe  powers  of  harmony  that  bind 
Congenial  heaits,  and  ftretch  from  mind  to  mind  : 
Glow'd  in  that  warmth,  that  focial  kindnefsgave, 
Which  once— the  reft  is  filence  and  the  grave. 

O  tears,  that  warm  from  wounded  friendfhip. 

flow! 

O  thoughts  that  wake  to  monuments  of  woe  ', 
Reflection  keen,  that  points  the  painful  dart; 
Mem'ry>  that  fpeeds  its  patfage  to  the  heart ; 
Sad  monitors,  your  cruel  power  fufpend, 
And  hide,  for  ever  hide,  the  buried  friend: 
—In  vain— conteft  I  fee  my  Craufurd  ftand, 
And  the  pen  falls— fails  from  my  trembling  hand, 
E'en  death's  dim  lhadow  feeks  to  hide  in  vain, 
That  lib'ral  afpect,  and  that  (mile  humane; 
OE'en  death's  dim  (hadow  wears  a  languid  light, 
And  his  eye  beams  through  everlafting  night. 

Till  the  laft  figh  of  genius  (hall  expire, 
His  keen  eye  faded,  and  extinct  his  tire, 
Till  time,  in  league  with  envy  and  with  death, 
Blaft  the  (kill'd  hand,  and  (top  the  tuneful  breath, 
My  Craufurd  dill  (hall  claim  the  mournful  fong, 
So  long  remember'd,  and  bewail'd  lo  long. 

ODE 

TO  THE  RIVER  EDEN  *.  1759. 

DELICHTFUL  Eden  !  parent  ftre»m, 

Yet  (hall  the  maids  of  memory  fay, 
(When,  led  by  fancy's  fairy  dream, 

My  young  (teps  trac'd  thy  winding  way) 
How  oft  along  thy  mazy  (hore, 
That  many  a  gloomy  alder  bore, 

In  penfive  thought  their  poet  ftray'd; 
Or,  carelefs  thrown  thy  bank  befide, 
Beheld  thy  dimly  waters  glide,.  • 

Bright  through  the  trembling  fhade, 

,*  fythc  (ovrtty  of  Wejlmcrelaad, 


-.27 


Yet  (hall  they  paint  thofe  fcenes  again, 

Where  once  with  infant-joy  he  play'd 
And  bending  o'er  tliy  liquid  plain, 

The  azure  worlds  below  furvey'd  : 
Led  by  the  rol'y  handed  hours, 
When  time  tripp'd  o'er  yon  bank  of  flower*, 

Which  in  thy  cryftal  boiom  fmil'd  ; 
Though  old  the  god,  yet  light  and  gay, 
He  flung  his  glals  and  fcythe  away, 

And  feem'd  himfelf  a  child. 

The  poplar  tall,  that  waving  near 

Would  whifper  to  thy  murmurs  free ; 
Yet  ruftling  feems  tofooth  mine  ear, 

And  trembles  when  I  Cgh  for  thee, 
Yet  featedon  thy  (helving  brim, 
Can  fancy  fee  the  naiads  trim 

Burnim  their  green  locks  in  the  fun ; 
Or  at  the  lafrlone  hour  of  day, 
To  chafe  the  lightly  glancing  fay, 

In  airy  circles  run. 

But,  fancy,  can  thy  mimic  power 

Again  thofe  happy  moments  bring  ? 
Canft  thou  reftore  that  golden  hour, 

When  young  joy  wav'd  his  laughin  g  wing  ? 
When  firlt  in  Eden's  rofy  vale, 
My  full  heart  pour'd  the  lover's  tale, 

The  vow  fincere,  devoid  of  guile  1 
While  Delia  in  her  panting  brealt, 
With  fighs  the  tender  thought  tuppreft, 

And  look'd  as  angels  fmile. 

O  goddefs  of  the  cryftal  bow, 

That  dwell'ft  the  golden  meads  among  j 
Whole  dreams  ftill  fair  in  memory  flow, 

Whofe  murmurs  melodife  my  fong  I 
Oh  !  yet  thofe  gleams  of  joy  difplay, 
VVhich  brightening  glow'd  infancy's  ray, 

When  near  the  lucid  urn  reclin'd, 
The  dryad,  nature,  bar'd  her  breaft, 
And  left,  in  naked  charms  imprcft, 

Her  image  on  my  mind.  . 

In  vain— the  maids  of  memory  fair 

No  more  in  golden  vifions  play ; 
No  friendlhip  fmooths  the  brow  of  care, 

No  Delia's  fmile  approves  my  lay. 
Yet,  love  and  friendfhip  loft  to  me, 
Tis  yet  fome  joy  to  think  of  thee, 

And  in  thy  breaft  this  moral  find- 
That  life,  though  (lain'd  with  forrow's  fhoweri, 
Shall  flow  ferene,  while  virtue  pours 

Her  funfliine  on  the  mind. 

AUTUMNAL  ELEGY. 
TO .    1763. 

WHILE  yet  my  poplar  yields  a  doubtful  (hade, 
Its  lait  leaves  trembling  to  the  zephyr's  figh, 

On  this  fair  plain,  ere  every  verdure  fade, 
Or  the  lalt  (miles  of  golden  autumn  die  ; 

Wilt  thou,  my ,  at  this  penfive  hour, 

O'er  nature's  ruins  hear  thy  friend  complain ; 

While  his  heart  labouts  with  th'  infpiring  power. 
And  from  his  pen  fpontaneous  flows  the  (trim  2 

Thy  gentle  breaft  (hall  melt  with  kindred  fight. 
Yet  haply  grieving  o'er  a  parent's  bier; 


'32$ 


THE   WORKS   OF   LANGHORNE. 


Poets  are  nature's  children :  when  (he  dies 
Affection  mourns,  and  duty  drops  a  tear. 

Why  are  ye  frlent,  brethren  of  the  grove, 

Fond  Philomel,  thy  rnany-chorded  lyre 
So  l\yeetly  tun'd  to  tendernefs  and  love, 

Shall  love  no  more,  or  tendernefs  infpire  ? 
O,  mix  once  more  thy  gentle  lays  with  mine  ! 

For  well  our  paflions,  well  our  notes  agree  : 
An  abfent  love,  fweet  bird,  may  foften  thine ; 

An  abfent  love  demands  a  tear  from  me. 

Yet,  ere  we  (lumber,  fongfters  of  the.fky, 

Through  the  long  night  of  winter,  wild  and 
drear  : 

O,  let  us  tune,  ere  love  and  fancy  die. 
One  tender  farewell  to  the  fading  year ! 

Farewell  ye  wild  hills,  fcatter'd  o'er  with  fpring  ! 

Sweet  folitude,  where  Flora  fmil'd  unfeen  ! 
Farewell  each'  breeze  of  balmy-burden'd  wing  ! 

The  violet's  blue  bank,  and  the  tall  wood  green  '. 

Ye  tuneful  groves  of  Belvidere  adieu  !  [reft  ! 

Kind  (hades,  that   whifuer  o'er  my  Craufurd's 
F.rom  courts,  from  fenates,  and  from  camps  to  you, 

When  fancy  leads  him,  no  inglorious  gueft. 

Dear  (hades,  adioti  !  where  late  the  moral  mufe, 
Led  by  the  dryad,  filence,  oft  reclin'd, 

Taught  meannefs  to  extend  her  little  views, 
And  look  on  nature  to  enlarge  her  mind. 

Farewell  the  walk  along  the  woodland  vale  ! 

Flower-feeding  rills  in  murmurs  drawn  away  ! 
Farewell  the  fweet  breath  of  the  early  gale, 

And  the  dear  glories  of  the  clofing  day  ! 

The  namelefs  charms  of  high,  poetic  thought, 

That  fpring's  green  hours  to  fancy's  children 

bore  ; 
The  words  divine,  imagination  wrote 

On  (lumber's  light  leaf,  by  the  murmuring  (hpre. 
Ail,  all  adieu  !  from  autumn's  fober  power    \ 

Fly  the  deai;  dreams  of  fpring's  delightful  reign ; 
Cay  fummer  drips  her  rofy-mantled  bower, 

And  rude  winds  wade  the  glories  of  her  train, 

Yet  autumn  yields  her  joys  of  humbler  kind  ; 

Sad  o'er  her  golden  ruins  as  we  dray,." 
Sweet  melancholy  fooths  the  muring  mind, 

And  nature's  charms,  delightful  in  decay.' 

All-bounteous  Power,  whom  happy  worlds  adore, 

With  every    fcene   fome  grateful  change   (lie 

brings— 
In  winter's  wild  fnows,  autumn's  golden  (tore, 

In  glowing  Cummers,  and  in  blooming  fprings!    ', 
O  moft  belov'd  !  the  faired  and  the  bed 

Of  all  her  works  !  may  (till  thy  lover  find 
Fair  nature's  franknefs  in  thy  gentle  breaft  • 

Like  her  be  various,  but  like  her  be  kind. 

Then,  when  the  fpring  of  fmiling  youth  is  o'er ; 

When  Cummer's  glories  yields  to  autumn's  Cway ; 
When  golden  autumn  finks  in  winter's  hoar  ; 

And  life  declining  yields  its  laft  weak  ray ; 

In  thy  lov'd  arms  my  fainting  age  (hall  clofe, 
On  thee  my  fond  eye  bend  its  trembling  light  : 

Remembrance  fweet  fliall  footh  my  lad  repofe, 
And  my  foul  blefs  thee  in  eternal  nieht. 


TO  THE  SAME.    1763. 

WHEN  pale  beneath  the  frowning  (hade  of  death, 
No  foothing  voice  of  love  or  friendfhip  nigh, 

While  drong  convulfions  feiz'd  the  lab'ring  breath, 
And  life  fufpended  left  each  vacant  eye  ; 

Where,  in  that  moment,  fled  th'  immortal  mind  ? 

To  what  new  region  did  the  fpirit  ftray  ? 
Found  it  fome  bofom  hofpitably  kind, 

ic  bread  that  took  the  wanderer  in  its  way? 

:      my ,  in  that  deathful  hour, 

thy  dear  bolbra  it  once  more  return'd; 

And  wrapt  in 's  folitary  bower, 

The  ruins  of  its  former  'rnanfion  mourn'd. 

But  didd  thou,  kind  and  gentle  as  thou  art, 
O'er  thy  pale  lover  ihed  the  generous  tear  ? 

From  thole  fweet  eyes  did  pity's  foftnefs  dart, 
When  fancy  laid  him  on  the  lowly  bier  ? 

Didd  thou  to  Heav'n  addrefs  the  forceful  prayer, 
Fold  thy  fair  hands,  and  raife  the  mournful  eye, 

Implore  each  power  benevolent  to  fpare, 
And  call  down  pity  from  the  golden  fky  ? 

O,  born  at  once'to  blefs  me  and  to  fave, 

Exalt  my  life,  and  dignify  my  lay  ! 
Thou  too  (halt  triumph  o'er  the  mouldering  grave, 

And  on  thy  brow  fliall  bloom  the  deathlels  bay. 

Dear  (hades  of  genius !   heirs  of  endlefs  fame  ! 

That  in  your  laureat  crowns  the  myrtle  wove, 
Snatch'd  from  oblivion  beauty's  (acred  name, 

And  grew  immortal  in  the  arms  of  love ! 

O,  may  we  meet  you  in  fome  happier  clime  '. 

Some  fafer  vale  beneath  a  genial  iky  ! 
Whence  all  the  woes  that  load  the  wing  of  time. 

Difeafe,  and  death,  and  fear,  and  frailty  fly  '. 

TO  THE  SAME. 
The  Complaint  of  her  Ring-Love. 

FAR  from  the  fmiles  of  blue  heCperian  (kies, 
Far  from  thofe  vales,  where  flowery  pleafures 
dwell, 

(Dear  fcenes  of  freedom  loft  to  thefe  fad  eyes) ! 
How  hard  to  languifli  in  this  lonely  cell ! 

When  genial  gales  relume  the  fifes  of  love  ; 

When  laughing  fpring  leads  round  the  jocund 

year; 
Ah,  view  with  pity,  gentle  maid,  your  dove, 

From  every  heart-felt  joy  fecluded  here  '. 

To  me  np  more  the  laughing  fpring  looks  gay ; 

Nor  annual  loves  relume  my  languid  breaft  ; 
Time  (lowly  drags  the  long,  delightlefs  day, 

Through  one  dull  fcene  of  folitary  reft. 

Ah  I  what  avails  that  dreaming  fancy  roves 
Through  the  wild  beauties  of  her  native  reign  ! 

Breathes  in  green  fields,  and  feeds  in  frefliening 

groves, 
To  wake  to  anguifti  in  this  hopelefs  chain  ? 

Though  fondly  footh'd  with  pity's  tendereft  care, 
Though  ftill  by  — r-'s  gentle  hand  cared, 

For  the  free  fored,  and  the  boundlefs  air, 
The  rebel,  nature,  murmurs  in  my  breaft, 


'OEMS. 


Ah,  let  not  nature, ,  plead  in  vain  ! 

For  kindnefs,  fure,  fhould  grace  a  form  fa  fair  : 
Reftore  me  to  my  native  wilds  again, 

To  the  free  ibreit,  and  the  boundlels  air. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

SONNET. 

In  the  Manner  of  Petrarch.    1765. 

ON  thy  fair  morn,  O  hope-infpiring  May  ! 
The  fweeteft  twins  that  ever  nature  bore, 

Where  — : vale  her  field-flower  garland 

wove, 

Young  love  and  fancy  met  the  genial  day. 
And,  as  on  the  thyme-green  baitk  I  lay, 

A  nymph  of  gentleft  mien  their  train  before, 
Came  with  a  fmile ;  and   fwain,  fhe  cried,  no 

more 
To  penfive  forrow  tune  thy  hopelefs  lay. 

Friends  of  thy  heart,  fee  love  and  fancy  bring 
Each  joy  that  youth's  enchanted  bofom  warms  ! 

Delight,  that  rifles  all  the  fragrant  fpring  ! 
Fair-handed  hope,  that  paints  unfading  charms ! 
And    dove-like    faith,    that    waves    her  filver 

wing. 

Thefe,  fwain,  are  thine  ;  for  .  meets  thy 

arms. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Wrapped  round  a  Nofegay  of  Violets.    1761. 
DEAR  objecT:  of  my  late  and  early  prayer  ! 
Source  of  my  joy,  and  folace  of  my  care  ! 
\Vhofe  gentle  fiiendfhip  fuch  a  charm  can  give, 
As  makes  me  wifli,  and  tells  me  how  to  live ! 
To  thee  the  mufe  with  grateful  hand  would  bring 
Thefe  firft  fair  children  of  the  doubtful  fpring. 
O  may  they,  fearlefs  of  a  varying  fky, 
Bloom  on  thy  breaft,  and  fmile  beneath  thine  eye  '. 
In  fairer  lights  their  vivid  blue  difplay, 
Andfweeter  breathe  their  little  lives  away  ! 

TO  THE.  SAME. 

On  the  Moral  RefeSi:.ons  contained  in  her  An~ 

Jkuerto  the  above  Vfrfes.    1761. 
SWEET  moralift !  \vhofe  moving  truths  impart 
At  once  delight  and  anguifh  to  my  heart  ! 
Though  human  joys  their  fhort-liv'dfweets  exhale, 
Like  the  wan  beauties  of  the  wafted  vale  ; 
Yet  truft  the  rnufe,  fair  friendfhip's  flower  fliall 

laft, 

When  life's  fliort  funlhine,  like  its  ftorms,  is  paft ; 
Bloom  in  the  fields  of'fome  ambrofial  fhore. 
Where  time,  and  death,  and  ficknels,  are  no  more. 

WRITTEN  IN  A  COLLECTION  OF  MAPS. 

I765- 

REALMS  of  this  globe,  that  ever-circling  run, 
And  rife  alternate  to  embrace  the  fun  ; 
Shall  I  with  envy  at  my  lot  repine, 
Becaufe  I  boaft  fo  fmall  a  portion  mine  ? 
If  e'er  in  thought  of  Andalufia's  vines, 
Golconda's  jewels,  or  Potofi's  mines; 
If  thefe,  or  thofe,  if  vanity  forgot 
The  humbler  blefimss  of  my  little  lot ; 


Then  may  the  fiream  that  murmurs  near  my  door, 
The  waving  grove  that  loves  its  mazy  fliore, 
Withhold  each  foothing  pleafure  that  they  gave, 
No  longer  murmur,  and  no  longer  wave  ! 

x  THEODOSIUS  TO  CONSTANTIA.    1760. 
LET  others  feek  the  lying  aids  of  art, 
And  bribe  the  paffions  to  betray  the  heart  ; 
Truth,  facred  truth,  and  faith  unfkill'd  to  feign, 
Fill  my  fond  breait,  and  prompt  my  artlefs  ftrain. 

Say,  did  thy  lover,  in  feme  happier  hour, 
Each,  ardent  thought  in  wild  profufion  pour  ; 
With  eager  fondnefs  on  thy  beauty  gaze, 
And  talk  with  all  the  ecftafy  of  praife  ? 
The  heart  fincere  its  pleafing  tumult  prov'd; 
All,  all  declar'd  that  Thecdofius  lov'd. 

Let  raptur'd  fancy  on  that  moment  dwell, 
When  thy  dear  vows  in  trembling  accents  fell; 
When  love  acknowledg'd  wak'd  the  tender  figh, 
Sweli'd  thy  full  breaft,  and  fiil'd  thy  melting  eye. 

O  !  bleft  for  ever  be  th'  aufpicious  day, 
Dance  all  its  hours  in  pleafure  's  golden  ray  ! 
Pale  furrow's  gloom  from  every  eye  depart  ! 
And  laughing  joy  glide  lightly  through  the  heart  5 
Let  village-maids  their  festive  brows  adorn, 
And  with  frefli  garlands  meet  the  fmiling  morn  j 
Each  happy  fwain,  by  faithful  love  repaid, 
Pour  his  warm  vows,  and  court  his  village-maid. 

Yet  fhall  the  fcene  to  ravifh'd  memory  rife  : 
Coriftantia  prefent,  yet  fliall  meet  thefe  eyes  ; 
On  her  fair  arm  her  beauteous  head  reclin'd^ 
Her  locks  flung  carelefs  to  the  fportful  wind. 
\yiiile  love  and  fear  contending  in  her  face, 
Flufh  every  rofe,  and  heighten  every  grace. 

0  never,  while  of  life  and  hope  pofleft, 
May  this  dear  image  quit  my  faithful  breaft  I 
The  painful  hours  of  abfence  to  beguile, 
Ma/  thus  Conftantia  look,  Conftantia  fmile  ! 

ELEGY.   1760. 

THE  eye  of  nature  never  refts  from  care  ; 

She  guards  her  children  with  a  parent's  love; 
And  not  a  mifchief  reigns  in  earth  or  air, 

But  time  deftroys,  or  remedies  remove. 

In  vain  no  ill  fliall  haunt  the  walks  of  life, 

No  vice  in  vain  the  human  heart  deprave, 
The  pois'nous  flower,  the  tempeft's  raging  ftrife, 

From  greater  pain,  from  greater  ruin  fave. 
Lavinia,  form'd  with  every  powerful  grace, 

With  all  that  lights  the  flame  of  young  defire  ; 
Pure  eafe  of  wit,  and  elegance  of  face, 

A  foul  of  fancy,  and  an  eye  all  lire. 
Lavinia  '.  —  Peace,  my  bufy  fluttering  breaft  ! 

Nor  fear  to  lariguilh  in  thy  former  pain  :  • 
At  length  flie  yields  —  (he  yields  the  needful  reft  ; 

And  frees  her  lover  from  his  galling  chain. 
The  golden  ftar,  that  leads  the  radiant  morn, 

Looks  not  fo  fair,  frefh  rifing  from  the  main  ; 
But  her  bent  eyebrow  bears  forbidding  fcorn,.-— 

But  pride's  fell  furies  every  heart-firing  ftraiu. 

Lavinia,  thanks  to  thy  ungentle  mind  ; 

1  now  bebo'ul  thee  with  indifferent  eyes; 
And  reafon  dares,  thou  love  as  death  be  blind, 

Thy  gay,  thy  worthlefs  being  to  defpife. 
P  iij 


THE   WORKS    OFLANGHORNE. 


Beauty  may  charm  without  one  inward  grace, 

And  fair  proportions  win  the  captive  heart ; 
J3ut  let  rank  pride  the  pleafing  form  debafe, 

And  love  difgufted  breaks  his  erring  dart. 
The  youth  that  once  the  fculptur'd  nymph  ad- 
tnir'd, 

Had  look'd  with  fcornful  laughter  on  her  charms, 
If  the  vain  form,  with  recent  life  infpir'd. 

Had  turn'd.  difdainful  from  his  ofter'd  arms. 
Go.  thoughtlefs  maid  !  of  tranfient  beauty  vain, 

Feed  the  high  thought,  the  towering  hope  ex 
tend; 
Still  may'it  thou  dream  of  fplendour  in  thy  train, 

And  frnile  fuperb,  while  love  and  flattery  bend. 
for  me,  fweet  peace  fliall  footh  my  troubled  mind, 

And  eafy  flumbers  clofe  my  weary  eyes; 
Since  reaf6n  dares,  though  love  as  death  be  blind, 

Thy  gay,  thy  worthless  being  t»  defpife. 

INSCRIPTION  ON  THE  DOOR  OF  A 

STUDY. 

O  THOU  that  flialt  prefume  to  tread 
This  manfion  of  the  mighty  dead, 
Come  with  the  free,  untainted  mind; 
The  nurfe,  the  pedant  leave  behind; 
And  all  that  fuperftition,  fraught 
"With  folly's  lore,  thy  youth  has  taught— 
iEach  thought  that  reafon  can't  retain— 
leave  it,  and  learn  to  think  again. 
"Yet,  while  thy  ftudious  eyes  explore; 
And  range  thefe  various  volumes  o'er, 
Truft  blindly  to  no  fav'rite  pen, 
Remembering  authors  are  but  men. 
Has  fair  philofophy  thy  love  ? 
Away !    flie  lives  in  yonder  grove. 
If  the  fweet  mufe  thy  pleafure  gives, 
"With  her,  in  yonder  grove,  fhe  lives: 
And  if  religion  claims  thy  care, 
Religion,  fled  from  books,  is  there. 
Tor  firil  from  nature's  works  we  drew 
Our  knowledge,  and  our  virtue  too. 

TO  LORD  GRANBY. 
Is  fpite  of  all  the  rufty  fools 
That  glean  old  nonfenfe  in  the  fchools ; 
^Nature,  a  miltrefs,  never  coy, 
Has  wrote  on  ail  her  works — enjoy. 
Shall  we  then  ftarve,  like  Gideon's  wife, 
And  die  to  fave  a  makeweight's  life  ? 
No,  friend  of  nature,  you  difdain, 
So  fair  a  hand  (hould  work  in  vain. 

But,  good  my  lord,  rpake  her  your  guide, 
And  err  not  on  the  other  fide  : 
Like  her,  in  all  you  deign  to  do, 
Be  liberal,  but  be  fparing  too. 

When  fly  Sir  Toby,  night  by  night, 
With  his  dear  bags  regales  his  fight; 
And  confcience,  reafon,  pity,  deep. 
Though  virtue  pine,  though  merit  weep; 
J  fee  the  keen  reproaches  fly 
Indignant  from  your  honeft  eye; 
Each  bounteous  with  glows  unconfin'd, 
And  your  breaft  labours  to  be  kind. 

At  this  warm  hour,  my  lord,  beware 
The  fervile  flatterer's  fpecious  fnare, 


The  fawning  fycophant,  whofe  art 
Vlarks  the  kind  motions  of  the  heart;' 
iach  idle,  each  infidious  knave, 
That  a<fls  the  graceful,  wife,  or  brave. 

With  feflive  beard,  and  focial  eye, 
You've  feen  old  hofpitality  ; 
Mounted  aftride  the  mof-s-grown  wall. 
The  genius  of  the  ancient  hall. 
So  reverend,  with  fuch  courtly  glee, 
He  Ferv'd  your  noble  anceftry ; 
And  turn'd  the  hinge  of  many  a  gate, 
For  Ruflel,  Rous,  Plantagenet. 
No  lying  porter  levied  there 
His  dues  on  all  imported  ware; 
There,  rang'd  in  rows,  ho  livery'd  train 
E'er  begg'd  their  mailer's  beef  again; 
No  flatterer's  planetary  face 
'Plied  for  a  bottle,  or  a  pl?ce, 
Toad-eating  France,  and  fiddling  Rome, 
Kept  their  lean  rafcals  ftarv'd  at  home. 
"  Thrice  happy  days  1" 

In  this,  'tis  true, 

Old  times  wer£  better  than  the  new; 
Yet  fame  egregious  faults  you'll  fee 
In  ancient  hofpitality. 
See  motley  crowds,  his  roof  beneath, 
Put  poor  fociety  to  death  ! 
Priefts,  knights,  ,and  'fquires,  debating  wild, 
On  themes  unworthy  of  a  child  ; 
Till  the  ftrange  compliment  commences,  ' 
To  praife  their  hoft,  and  lofe  their  fenfes. 

Go  then,  my  lord  I  keep  open  hall ; 
Proclaim  your  table  free  for  all; 
Go,  facrifice  your  time,  your  wealth, 
Your  patience,  liberty,  and  health. 
To  fuch  a  thought-renouncing  crew. 
Such  foes  to  care— ev'n  care  for  you. 

"  Heav'ns  !  and  are  thefe  the  plagues  that  wait 
"  Around  the  hofpitable  gate — 
"  Let  tenfold  iron  bolt  my  door, 
"  And  the  gaunt  maftifF  growl  before  ; 
"  There,  not  one  human  creature  nigh, 
."  Save,  dear  Sir  Toby,  you  and  I, 
"  In  cynic  filence  let  us  dwell  5 
"  Ye  plagues  ef  focial  life  farewell !" 
Difpleafes  this?  The  modern  way, 
Perhaps,  may  pleafe — a  public  day. 
'  A  public  day  !  detefted  name  '. 
'  The  farce  of  friendlhip,  and  the  fhame. 
'  Did  ever  focial  freedom  come 
'  Within  the  pale  of  drawing-room  ? 
'  See  piclur'd  round  the  formal  crowd  ! 
'  How  nice,  how  juft  each  attitude  ! 
'  My  lord  approaches---what  furprife  ! 
'  The  pictures  fpeak,  the  pictures  rife  ! 
'  Thrice  ten  times  told^the  fame  falute, 
'  Once  more  the  mimic  forms  the  mute. 
'  Meanwhile  the  envious  rows  between) 
'  Diftruft  and  fcandal  walk  unfeen  ; 

Their  poifons  filently  infufe, 
'  Till  thefe  fufpect,  and  thofe  abufe. 

"  Far,  far  from  thefe,  in  fome  lone  fliade, 
"  Let  me,  in  eafy  filence  laid, 
"  Where  never  fools,  or  flaves  intrude, 
"  Enjoy  the  fw^ets  of  folitude  '." 

What,  quit  the  commerce  of  mankind! 
Leave  virtue,  fame,  and  worth  behind  1 


POEM    S. 


\Vho  fly  to  folitaiy  reft, 
Are  reafon's  favages  at  beft. 

Though  human  life's  extenfive  fisUl 
Wild  weeds,  and  vexing  brambles  yield ; 
Behold  her  (railing  vaUies  bear 
Mellifluous  fruits,  and  flowers  fair  ! 
The  crowds  ot  folly  you  delpife — 
Aflbciate  with  tiie  gojd  and  wife; 
Tor  virtue,  rightly  undentood, 
Is  to  be  wife,  and  to  be  good. 

MONODY.   1759. 

AH,  fcenes  belov'd  !  ah,  confcious  (hades, 
That  wave  thefe  parent-vales  along  ! 

Ye  bowers,  where  fancy  met  the  tuneful  maids, 

Ye  mountains  vocal  with  my  Doric  fong, 

Teach  your  wild  echoes  to  complain 

In  Cighs  of  folemn  woe,  in  broken  founds  of  pain. 

For  her  I  mourn, 

Now  the  cold  tenant  of  the  thoughtlefs  urn— 
For  her  bewail  thefe  itreams  of  woe, 
For  her  thefe  filial  forrows  flow  ; 
Source  of  ray  life,  that  Ifd  my  tender  years 

With  all  a  parent's  pious  fears; 
That  nurs'd  my    h.fant   thought,  and  taught  my 

mind  to  grow. 

Careful  (he  marked  each  dangerous  way, 
Where  youth's  unwary  footlteps  itray: 
She  taught  the  ftruggling  paflions  to  fubrrde  ; 

Where  facred  truth  and  reafon  guide, 
In  virtue's  glorious  path  to  feek  the  realms  of  day. 

Lamented  goodnefs  '.  yet  I  fee 
The  fond  affedlion  melting  in  her  eye  : 
She  bends  its  tearful  orb  on  me, 

And  heaves  the  tender  figh  ; 
As  thoughtful,  fhe  the  toils  lurveys, 
That  crowd  in  life's  perplexing  maze, 
And  for  her  children  teels  again 
AH,  all  that  love  can  fear,  and  all  that  fear  can 

feign. 

O  beft  of  parents !  let  me  pour 
My  fortows  o'er  thy  Client  bed  : 

There  early  ftrew  the  vernal  flower, 
The  parting  tear  at  evening  flied— 
Alas !  are  thefe  the  only  meed 
Of  each  kind  thought,  each  virtuous  deed, 
Thefe  fruitlefs  offerings  that  embalm  the  dead  ? 

Then,  fairy-feated  hope,  forbear — 

No  more  thy  fond  illufions  fpread  ; 
Thy  fliadowy  tcenes  diflolv'd  in  air, 

Thy  vifionary  profpec^s  fled  ; 
With  her  they  fled,  at  whofe  lamented  fhrine, 

Love,  gratitude,  and  duty,  mingled  tears, 
Coudemn'd  each  filial  office  to  refign,  [years. 

Nor  hopeful  more  to  tooth  her  long-declining 

TO  MRS. 

In  Tears  for  the  Death  of  a  Friend.    i"]Gi. 

So  feeble  nature  weeps  o'er  friendfhip's  grave, 
And  mourns  the  rigour  of  that  law  flie  gave  : 
Yet,  why  not  weep?    When  in  that  grave  expire 
Ail  Pembroke's  elegance,  all  Waldegrave's  fire. 
No  more  thofe  eyes  in  Co  ft  effulgence  move, 
No  more  that  bofom  feels  the  fpa-k  of  ieve. 
4 


O'er  thofe  pale  cheeks  the  drooping  graces  mourn, 
And  fancy  tears  her  wild  wreath  o'er  that  urn. 
There  hope  at  heav'u  once  caft  a  doubtful  eye, 
Content  repin'd,  and  patience  dole  a  figh. 
Fair  friendship  griev'd  o'er  — — — *s  facred  bier, 
And  virtue  wept,  for  — —  dropt.a  tear. 

TO  MRS.  GILLMAN. 

WITH  fenfe  enough  for  half  your  fexbefide, 
With  juft  no  more  than  neceflary  pride  ; 
With  knowledge  caught  from  nature's  living  page, 
Politely  learn'J,  and  elegantly  Cage- 
Alas  !  how  piteous,  that  in  fuch  a  mind 
So  many  foibles  free  reception  find  '. 
Can  fuch  a  mind,  ye  gods !  admit  difdaia  ? 
Be  p-irtiai,  envious,  covetous,  and  vain  ? 
Unwelcome  truth  !  to  love,  to  blindneCs  clear  T    • 
Yet  Gillman,  hear  it ;— while  you  blufh  to  hear* 

That  in  your  gentle  breaft  difdain  can  dwell, 
Let  knavery,  meannefs,  pride  that  feel  it,  tell  1 
With  partial  eye  a  friend's  defedls  you  fee, 
And  look  with  kindnefs  on  my  faults  and  me. 
And  does  no  envy  that  fair  mind  o'erfhade  ? 
Does  no  fliort  figh  for  greater  wealth  invade  ; 
When  Client  merit  wants  the  toftering  me.-'.l, 
And  the  warm  wifli  fuggefts  the  virtuous  deed? 
Fairly  the  charge  of  vanity  you  prove, 
Vain  of  each  virtue  of  the  friends  you  love. 

What  charms,  what  arts  of  magic  have  confpir'd 
Of  power  to  make  fo  many  faults  admir'd  ? 

FRAGMENT  OF  A  POEM, 

Written  at  Clart-Hall,  oh  the  King's  ActeJJlon. 
1760. 


WHILE  every  gale  the  voice  of  triumph  brings. 
And  trailing  vidlory  waves  her  purple  wings; 
.While  earth  and  ocean  yield  their  fubjeift  powers, 
Neptune  his  waves  and  Cybele  her  towers; 
Yet  will  you  deign  the  mule's  voice  to  hear, 
And  let  her  welcome  greet  a  monarch's  ear  ? 
Yes  ;  'midft  the  toils  of  glory  ill-repaid, 
Oft  ha^s  the  monarch  fought  her  foothing  aid. 
See  Frederic  court  her  in  the  rage  of  war, 
Though  rapid  vengeance  urge  hishoitile  car: 
With  her  repos'd  in  ph;lofophic  reft, 
The  fage's  funfliine  fmooths  the  warrior's  breaft. 

Whate'cr  Arcadian  fancy  feign'd  of  old 
Of  halcyon  days,  and  minutes  plum'd  with  gold; 
Whate'er  adorn 'd  the  wifeft,  gentlelt  reign, 
From  you  Che  hopes — let  not  her  hopes  be  vain  1 
Rile  ancient  funs  \  advance  Pierian  days ! 
Flow  Attic  ftreams  !  and  fpring  Aonian  bays  I 
Cam,  down  thy  wave  in  bnlker  mazes  glide. 
And  lee  new  honours  crown  thy  hoary  fide  ! 
Thy  ofiers  old  fee  myrtle  groves  fucceed  ! 
And  the  green  laurel  meet  the  waving  reed  I 


CAESAR'S  DRE*M. 

BEFORZ  HIS  INVASION  OF    BRITAIN. 


X75i, 


WHEN  rough  Helvetia's  haidy  fans  obey, 
And  vanquifh'd  Belgia  bows  to  Czfar's  (way ; 

" 


THE   WORKS    OF   LANGHORNE. 


When  fcarce-beheld,  embattled  nations  fall, 
The  fierce  Sicambrian,  and  the  faithlefs  Gaul: 
Tir'd  freedom  leads  her  favage  fons  no  more, 
But  flies,  fubdued,  to  Albion's  utmoft  fliore. 
'Twas  then,  while  ftillnefs  grafp'd  the  fleeping 

air, 

And  dewy  (lumbers  feal'd  the  eye  of  care ; 
Divine  ambition  to  her  votary  came; 
Her  left  hand  waving,  bore  the  trump  of  fame; 
Her  right  a  regal  fceptre  feem'd  to  hold, 
With  gems  far-blazing  from  the  burnifli'd  gold. 
•And  thus,  "  My  fon,"  the  queen  of  glory  (aid ; 
t  '  Immortal  Csefar,  raife  thy  languid  head. 
"  Shall  night's  dull  chains  the  man  of  counfels 

."  bind? 

"  Or  Morpheus  rule  the  monarch  of  mankind  ? 
"  See  worlds  unvanquifli'd  yet  await  thy  fword  ! 
"  Barbaric  lands,  that  fcorn  a  Latian  lord  '. 
u  See  yon  proud  ifle,  whufe  mountains  meet  the 

*'  fay> 

"  Thy  foes  encourage,  and  thy  power  defy '. 
"  What,  though  by  nature's  firmed  bars  fecur'd, 
"  By  feas  encircled,  and  with  rocks  immur'd, 
"  Shall  Csefar  (brink  the  greateft  toils  to  brave, 
"  Scale  the  high  rock,  or  beat  the  maddening 
•'  wave?" 

She  fpoke — her  words  the  warrior's  breaft  in 
flame 

With  rage  indignant,  and  with  confcious  fliame  ; 
•Already  beat,  the  fwelling  floods  give  way, 
And  the  fell  genii  of  the  rocks  obey. 
Already  (bouts  of  triumph  rend  the  fldes, 
And  the  thin  rear  of  barbarous  nations  flies. 

Quick  round  their  chief  his  acflive  legions  (land, 
Dwell  on  his  eye,  and  wait  the  waving  hand  : 
The  heio  rofe,  majeftically  flow, 
And  look'd  attention  to  the  crowds  below. 

'  Romans  and  friends !  is  there  who  feeks  for 

4  reft, 

'  By  labours  yanquifli'd,  and  with  wounds  oppreft  ? 
•*  That  refpite  Csefar  (hall  with  pleafure  yield, 
'  Due  to  the  toils  of  many  a  well -fought  field. 
Ms  there,  who  (brinks  at  thought  of  dangers  pad, 
*  The  ragged  mountain,  or  the  pathlefs  wade— 
'  While  favage  hods,  or  favage  floods  oppofe, 
'  Or  (hivering  fancy  pines  in  Alpine  fnows? 

Let  him  retire  to  Latium's  peaceful  fliore  ; 
'  He  once  has  toil'd,  and  Caefar  alks  no  more. 

Is  there  a  Roman,  whofe  unfhaken  breaft 
4  No  paiivs  have  conquer'd,  and  no  fears  depreft  ? 
4  Who,  doom'd  through  death's  dread  minifters 
'  to  go. 

Dares  to  chadife  the  infults  of  a  foe; 

Let  him,  his  country's  glory  and  her  day, 
'  With  reverence  hear  her,  and  with  pride  obey. 
'  A  form  divine,  in  heavenly  fpiendour  bright, 
'  Whofe  look  threw  radiance  round  the  pall  of 

*  night, 

'  With  calm  feverity  approachM  and  faid, 
:<  Wake  thy  dull  ear,  and  lift  thy  languid  head. 
"  What !  (hall  a  Roman  fink  in  foft  repofe, 
"  And  tamely  fee  the  Britons  aid  his  foes? 
"  See  them  fecure  the  rebel  Gaul  fupply  ; 
'«  Spurn  his  vain  eagles  and  his  power  defy  ? 
"  Go!  burft  their  barriers,  obftinately  brave  ; 
•'  Scale  the  wild  rock,  and  beat  the  maddenin 
"  ware." 


Here  paus'd  the  chief,  but  waited  no  reply. 
The  voice  aflenting  fpoke  from  every  eye  ; 
Nor,  as  the  kindnefs  that  reproach'd  with  fear, 
Were  dangers  dreadful,  or  were  toils  fevere. 

INSCRIPTION 

'  IN  A  TEMPLE   OF  SOCIETY. 

SACRED  rife  thefe  walls  to  thee, 

Blithe-ey'd  nymph,  fociety  ! 

In  whofe  dwelling,  free  and  fair, 

Converfe  fmooths  the  brow  of  care. 

Who,  when  waggifh  wit  betray'd 

To  his  arms  a  fylvan  maid, 

All  beneath  a  myrtle  tree, 

In  fome  vale  of  A  ready, 

Sprung,  I  ween,  from  fuch  embrace, 

The  lovely  contrail  in  her  face. 

Perchance,  the  mules  as  they  ftray'd, 
Seeking  other  fpring,  or  fliade, 
On  the  fweet  child  cad  an  eye 
In  fome  vaie  of  Arcady  ; 
And  blithef!  of  the  fitters  three, 
Gave  her  to  Euphrofyne. 

The  grace,  delighted,  taught  her  care 
The  cordial  fmile  the  placid  air  ; 
How  to  chafe,  and  how  reftraio 
All  the  fleet,  ideal  train  ; 
How  with  apt  words  well  combin'd, 

To  drefs  each  image  of  the  mind 

Taught  her  how  they  difagree, 
Awkward  fear  and  modefty, 
And  freedom  and  rudicity. 
True  politenefs  how  to  know 
From  the  fuperficial  (how ; 
From  the  coxcomb's  (hallow  grace, 
And  the  many  modell'd  face  : 
That  nature's  unaffecfled  eafe 

More  than  ftudied  forms  would  pleafe 

When  to  check  the  fportive  vein: 

When  to  fancy  yield  the  rein, 

On  the  fubjeft  when  to  be 

Grave  or  gay,  referv'd  or  free  : 

The  fpeaking  air,  th'  impafllon'd  eye, 

The  living  foul  of  fymmetry ; 

And  that  foft  fympathy  which  binds 

In  magic  chains  congenial  minds. 

INSCRIPTION 

IN  A  SEQUESTERED  GROTTO.       1763.. 

SWEET  peace,-that  lov'ft  the  filent  hour, 

The  dill  retreat  of  leifure  free  ; 
Aflbciate  of  each  gentle  power, 

And  elded  born  of  harmony  1 

O,  if  thou  own'ft  this  mofiy  cell, 

If  thine  this  manfion  of  repofe  ; 
Permit  me,  nymph,  with  thee  to  dwell, 

With  thee  my  wakeful  eye  to  clofe. 

And  though  thofe  glittering  fcenes  fhould  fade, 
That  pleafure's  rqfy  train  prepares ;— — 

What  vot'ry  have  they  not  betray'd  ? 
What  are  they  more  than  fpleudid  cares? 


POEMS. 


But  fmiling^days  exempt  from  care, 

But  nights,  when  fleep,  and  filence  reign ; 

Serenity  with  afpect  fair. 
And  love  and  joy  are  in  thy  train. 

ANOTHER  INSCRIPTION, 

IN    THE    SAME    GROTTO.       I7j6. 

O  FAIREST  of  the  village  born, 

Content,  infpire  my  carelefs  lay ! 
Let  no  vain  wifli,  no  thought  forlorn 

Throw  darknefs  o'er  the  fmiling  day. 
Forgett'fl  thou,  when  we  wander'd  o'er 
The  fylvan  Belau's  *  fedgy  fhore, 

Or  rang'd  the  woodland  wilds  along ; 
How  oft  on  Herclay's  f  mountains  high 
We've  met  the  morning's  purple  eye, 

Delay 'd  by  many  a  fong  ? 
From  thee,  from  thofe  by  fortune  led; 

To  all  the  farce  of  life  confin'd ; 
At  once  each  native  pleafure  fled, 

For  thou,  fweet  nymph,  was  left  behind. 
Yet  could  I  once,  once  more  furvey 
Thy  comely  form  in  mantle  gray, 

Thy  polifh'd  brow,  thy  peaceful  eye ; 
Where'er,  forfaken  fair,  you  dwell, 
Though  in  this  dim  fequefter'd  cell, 

With  thee  I'd  live  and  die. 


LEFT  WITH  THE  MINISTER  OF  RIPON- 
DEN, 

A  ROMANTIC  VILLAGE  IN   YORKSHIRE.       I7j8. 

THRICE  happy  you,  whoe'er  you  are, 
From  life's  low  cares  fecluded  far, 

In  this  fequefter'd  vale — ! 
Ye  rocks  on  precipices  pil'd ! 
Ye  ragged  deferts,  wafte  and  wild ! 

Delightful  horrors  hail  I 

What  joy  within  thefe  funlefs  groves, 
Where  lonely  contemplation  roves, 

To  reft  in  fearlefs  cafe  ! 
Save  weeping  rills,  to  fee  no  tear, 
Save  dying  gales  no  figh  to  hear, 

No  murmur  but  the  breeze. 

Say,  would  you  change  that  peaceful  cell 
Where  fanctity  and  filence  dwell, 

For  fplendour's  dazzling  blaze  ? 
-For  all  thofe  gilded  toys  that  glare 
Round  high-born  power's  imperial  chair, 

Inviting  fools  to  gaze  ? 

Ah  friend  !  ambition' sprofpects  clofe, 
And,  ftudious  of  your  own  repofe, 

Be  thankful  here  tp  live  ; 
For,  truft  me,  one  protecting  ftied 
And  nightly  peace,  and  daily  bread 

Is  all  that  life  can  give. 


*  A  f  mall  river  in  Wnftmoreland. 
f  A  romantic  -village  in  the  abovementioneJ  county, 
formerly  thifiat  of  tit  Hei(lays,  Earls  of  Carli/lf. 


WRITTEN  AMONGST  THE  RDINS  OF 

PONTECRAFT  CASTLE.         1756. 

RIGHT  fung  the  bard,  that  all-involving  age, 

With  hand  impartial  deals  the  ruthlefs  blow ; 
That  war,  wide-wafting,  with  impetuous  rage, 

Lays  the  tall  fpire,  and  flcy-crown'd  turret  low. 
A  pile  ftupendous,  once  of  fair  renown, 

This  mould'ring  mafs  of  ftapelefs  ruin  rofe, 
Where  nodding    heights   of   fractur'd    columns 
frown, 

And  birds  obfcene  in  ivy  bow'rs  repofe 

Oft  the  pale  matron  from  the  threat'ning  wall, 
Sufpicious,  bids  her  heedlefs  children  fly ; 

Oft,  as  he  views  the  meditated  fall, 

Full  fwiftly  fteps  the  frighted  peafant  by. 

But  more  refpectful  views  th'  hiftoric  fage, 
Mufing,  thefe  awful  relicks  of  decay, 

That  once  a  refuge  form'd  from  hoftile  rage, 
In  Henry's  and  in  Edward's  dubious  day. 

He  penfive  oft  reviews  the  mighty  dead, 
That  erft  have  trod  this  defolated  ground ; 

Reflects  how  here  unhappy  Salifbury  bled, 
When  faction  aim'dthe  death-difpenfing  wound, 

Reft,  gentle  rivers !  and  ill-fated  Gray ! 

A  flow'r  or  tear  oft  ftrews  your  humble  grave, 
Whom  envy  flew,  to  pave  ambition's  way, 

And  whom  a  monarch  wept  in  vain  to  lave. 

Ah  !  what  a  vail' d  th'  alliance  of  a  throne  ? 

The  pomp  of  titles  what,  or  pow'r  rever'd ! 
Happier  !  to  thefe  the  humble  life  unknown, 

With  virtue  honour'd,  and  by  peace  endear 'd. 

Had  thus  the  fons  of  bleeding  Britain  thought, 
When  haplefs  here  inglorious  Richard  lay. 

Yet  many  a  prince,  whofe  blood  full  dearly  bought 
The  ftiameful  triumph  of  the  long-fought  day ; 

Yet  many  a  hero  whofe  defeated  hand 
In  death  refign'd  the  well-contefted  field, 

Had  in  his  offspring  fav'd  a  finking  land, 
The  tyrant's  terror,  and  the  nation's  fhield. 

Ill  could  the  mufe  indignant  grief  forbear, 

Should  meni'ry  trace  her  bleeding  country's 
woes ; 

111  could  flie  count,  without  a  burfting  tear, 
Th'  inglorious  triumphs  of  the  vary'd  rofe ! 

While  York,  with  conqueft  and  revenge  elate, 
Infulting  triumphs  on  St.  Alban's  plain, 

Who  views,  nor  pities  Henry's  haplefs  fate, 
Himfelf  a  captive,  and  his  leaders  flain  ? 

Ah  prince  !  unequal  to  the  toils  of  war, 
To  ftem  ambition,  faction's  rage  to  quell; 

Happier !  from  thefe  had  fortune  plac'd  thee  far, 
In  fome  lone  convent,  or  fome  peaceful  cclL 

For  what  avail'd  that  thy  victorious  queen 
Repair'd  the  ruins  of  that  dreadful  day  ? 

That  vanquifh'd    York,    on  Wakefield's  purple 

green, 
Proftrate  amidft  the  common  daughter  lay : 


*34 


THE   WtiRKS  'of  LANGHORNE. 


In  vain  fair  vicVry  beam'd  the  glad'ning  eye, 
And,  waving  oft,  her  golden  pinion*,  frail'd  : 

Full  foon  the  flatt'ring  goddefs  meant  to  fly, 
Full  rightly  deem'd  unileady  fortune's  child. 

Let  Towton's  field: but  ceafc  the  difmal  tale  : 

Fdr  much  its  horrors  would  the  mufe  appal, 

In  fofter  ftrains  fuffice  it  to  bewail 
The  patriot's  exile,  or  the  hero's  fall. 

Thus  filver  Wharf  *,  whofe  cryftal-fparkling  urn 
Refle&s  the  brilliance  of  his  blooming  fhore, 

Still,  melancholy-mazing^  fcems  to  mourn, 
But  rolls,  confus'd,  a  crimfon  wave  ao  more. 

FRAGMENT.    1762. 

'TWAS  on  time's  birth-day,  when  the  voice  di 
vine 

Wak'd  fleeping  nature,  while  her  infant  eye, 
Yet  trembling,  ftruggled  with  created  light ; 
The  heav'n-born  mufe,  fprung  from  the  fource 

fublime 

Of  harmony  immortal,  firft  receiv'd 
Her  facred  mandate.     "  Go,  feraphic  maid, 
•'  Companion  dill  to  nature !  from  her  works 
"  Derive  thy  lay  melodious ;  great  like  thole, 
"  And  elegantly  fimple.     In  thy  train, 

Glory,  and  deathlefs  fame  and  fair  renown 
Attendant  ever,  each  immortal  name, 
By  thee  deem'd  facred,  to  yon  ftarry  vault 
Shall  bear,  and  (lamp  in  characters  of  gold. 
Be  thine  the  care,  alone  where  truth  directs"    ." 
The  firm  heart,  where  the  love  of  human  kind 
Inflames  the  patriot  fpirit,,  there  to  footh 
The  toils  of  virtue  with  melodious  praifc  : 
For  thofe,  that  fmiling  feraph  bids^thee  wake 
•'  His  golden  lyre ;  for  thofe,  the  young-ey'd  fun 
*'  Gilds  this  fair-formed  world ;  and  genial  fpring 

*  Throws  many  a  green  wreath,  liberal,  from  his 

"  bofom." 

So  fpake  the  voice  divine  ;  the  raptur'd  mufe 
In  ftrains  like  thefe,  but  nobler,  fram'd  her  lay. 

Spirits  of  ancient  time,  to  high  renown 
By  martial  glory  rais'd,  and  deeds  auguft, 
Atchiev'd  for  Britain's  freedom  !  patriot  hearts, 
That,  fearlefs  of  a  tyrant's  threatening  arm, 
Embrac'd  your  bleeding  country  !  o'er  the  page, 
Where  hiftory  triumphs  in  your  holy  nanres,     • 
O'er  the  dim  monuments  that  mark  your  graves, 
Why  ftrcams  my  eye  with  pleafure  f  ?  'tis  the  joy 
,  The  foft  delight  that  through  the  full  breaft  flows, 
From  fvveet  remembrance  of  departed  virtue ! 

O  Britain,  parent  of  illuftrious  names, 
While  o'er  thy  annals  memory  moots  her  eye, 
How  the  heart  glows,  rapt  with  high-wondering 

love, 

And  emulous  eftecm  !  hail,  Sydney  hail ! 
Whether  Arcadian  blithe,  by  fountain  clear, 
Piping  thy  love- lays  wild,  or  Spartan  bold, 
In  freedom's  van  diuinguifh'd,  Sydney,  hail  f 
Oft  o'er  thy  laurell'd  tomb  from  hands  unfeen 

*  A  river  near  tbt  feme  of  battle,  m  toblcb  -were 
fain  35,000  men. 

-  f  hxultat  Animus  Maximorum  Virorum  Me- 
'•  moriam  percurrens."  YAL.  MAX. 


rail  flowers ;  oft  in  thy  vale  of  Penfhurft  faif 
The  fhepherd  wandering  from  his  nightly  fold, 
LMcneth  llrange  mufic,  by  the  tiny  breath 
Of  fairy  minftrels  warbled. 

On  Raleigh's  grave,  O  ftrew  the  faineft  flowers, 
That  on  the  bofom  of  the  green  vale  blow  ! 
There    hang    your    vernal    wreaths,  ye  village- 
maids  ! 
Ye  mountain  nymphs,  your  crowns  of  wild  thyme 

bring 
To  Raleigh's  honour'd  grave !  There  bloom  tlje 

bay, 

The  virgin  rofe,  that,   blufliing  to  be  feen, 
Folds  its  fair  leaves;  for  modeil  worth  was  his:  • 
A  mind  where  truth  philofophy's  firft  born, 
Held  her  harmonious  reign  ;  a  Briton's  breaft, 
That,  careful  ftill  of  freedom's  holy  pledge, 
Difdain'd  the  mean  arts  of  a  tyrant's  court, 
Difdain'd  and  dy'd!    Where  was  thy  fpirit  then, 
Queen  of  fea-crowning  ifles,  when  Raleigh  bled? 
How  well  he  ferv'd  thee,  let  Iberia  tell ! 
Aflc  proftrate  Gales,  yet  trembling  at  his  name, 
How  well  he  ferv'd  thee  ;  when  her  vanquifh'd 

hand 
Held  forth  the  bafe  bribe,  how  he  fpurn'd  it  front 

him, 

And  cried,  I  fight  for  Britain  !  Hiflory  rife, 
And  blall  the  reigns  that  redden  with  the  blood   . 
Of  thofe  that  gave  them  glcfry  ! 

THE  DEATH  OF  ADONIS. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THK  GREEK  OF  BION  *.  1759. 

ADONIS  dead,  the  mufe  of  woe  fhall  mourn; 
Adonis  dead,  the  weeping  loves  return. 
The  queen  of  beauty  o'er  his  tomb  fhall  ihed 
Her  flowing  forrows  for  Adonis  dead  ; 
For  earth's  cold  lap  her  velvet  couch  forego, 
And  robes  of  purple  for  the  weeds  of  woe. 

Adonis  dead,  the  mufe  of  woe  mail  mourn ; 

Adonis  dead,  the  weeping  loves  return. 


*  Bion  the  paftoral  poet,  lived  in  the  time  of 
Ptolemy  Philadelphus.  By  the  epithet  "SpypmHi, 
every  where  applied  to  him,  it  is  probable  that 
he  was  born  at  Smyrna.  Mofchus  confirms  thi«, 
when  he  fays  to  the  river  Meles,  which  had  be 
fore  wept  for  Homer, 

-  Nt/>  «r«Xn>  «X>.o» 


It  is  evident,  however,  that  hev  fpent  rr.  .ch  of 
his  time'  in  Sicily.  Mofchus,  as  he  tells  us,  wai 
his  fcholar  ;  and  by  him  we  are  informed  that  hi» 
mafter  was  not  a  poor  poet.  "  -Thou  haft  left  to 
others  thy  riches,"  fays  he,  "  but  to  me  thy  po 
etry."  It  appears  from  the  fame  author  that  he 
died  by  poifon.  The  befl  edition  of  his  works  it 
that  of  Paris,  by  M.  de  Longue-Pieirt,  with  a 
French  tranflation. 

Ver.  i.  Adonis,  thtf  favourite  of  Venus,  was 
the  fon  of  Cynaras,  king  of  Cyprus.  His  chief 
employment  was  hunting,  though  he  is  rejrefent-* 
cd  by  Virgil  as  a  fhepherd. 

Ovis  ad  flnmina  pavit  Adonis* 


POEMS. 


Stretch' d  oft  this  mountain  thy  torn  lover  lies, 
"Weep,  queen  of  beauty !  for  he  bleeds— he  dies. 
Ah!  yet  behold  life's  laft  drops  faintly  flow,    II 
In  ftreams  of  purple,  o'er  thofe  limbs  of  fnow ! 
From  the  pale  cheek  the  perifh'd  rofes  fly, 
And  death  dims  flow  the  ghaftly  gazing  eye, 
Kifs,  kifs  thole  fading  lips,  ere  chill'd  in  death; 
With  foothing  fondnefs  flay  the  fleeting  breath, 
"i'is  vain!— ah!  give  the  foothing  fondnefs  o'er ! 
Adonis  feels  the  warm  falute  no  more. 
Adonis  dead,  the  mule  of  woe  fhall  mourn; 
Adonis  dead,  the  weeping  loves  return.  20 

His  faithful  dogs  bewail  their  mafter  flain, 
And  mourning  dryads  pour  the  plaintive  drain. 

Not  the  fair  youth  alone  the  wound  oppreft, 
The  queen  of  beauty  bears  it  in  her  breaft. 
Her  feet  unfatidal'd  floating  wild  her  hair, 
Her  afpedr,  woeful,  and  her  bofom  bare, 
Diftreft,  fhe  wanders  the  wild  wafl.es  forlorn, 
Her  facred  limbs  by  ruthlefs  brambles  torn, 
Loud  as  fhe  grieves,  furrounding  rocks  complain, 
And  echo  through  the  long  vales  calls  her  abfent 
fwain.  30 

Adonis-hears  not :  Life's  laft  drops  fall  flow 
In  ftreams  of  purple,  down  his  limbs  of  fnow. 
The  weeping  Cupids  round  their  queen  deplore, 
And  mourn  her  beauty  and  her  love  no  more. 


He  was  killed  by  a  wild  boar,  if  we  may  believe 
Propertius,  in  Cyprus. 

—  -Percuflit  Adonim 
Venantem  Idalio  vertice  durus  Aper. 

The  anniverfary  of  his  death  was  celebrated 
through  the  whole  Pagan  world.  Ariftophanes, 
in  his  Comedy  of  Peace,  reckons  the  feaft  of  Ado 
nis  among  the  chief  feftivals  of  the  Athenians. 
The  Syrians  obferved  it  with  all  the  violence  of 
grief,  and  the  greateft  cruelty  of  felf-caftigation. 
It  was  celebrated  at  Alexandria  in  St.  Cyril's  time  ; 
and  when  Julian  the  Apoftate  made^his  entry  at 
Antioch,  in  the  year  362,  they  were  celebrating 
the  feaft  of  Adonis. 

The  ancients  differ  greatly  in  their  accounts  of 
this  divinity.  Athenseus  fays  that  he  was  the  fa 
vourite  of  Bacchus  :  Plutarch  maintains  that  he 
and  Bacchus  are  the  fame  ;  and  that  the  Jews  ab- 
ftained  from  fwines  flefti  becaufe  Adonis  was  killed 
by  a  boar.  Aufonius,  Epig.  30.  affirms  that  Bac 
chus,  Ofiris,  and  Adonis,  are  one  and  the  fame. 

Ver.  21,  24.  The  lines  in  the  original  run  thus: 

Aiev  ainv  t\xos  1li  xttTX   nfttt  A  0au;t 


Kai 


235 


(All  utfi  fct.ou.  <fi\i'i  xuvt; 


The  two  firft  of  thefe  lines  contain  a  kind  of 
witticifm,  which  it  was  better  to  avoid.  This  au 
thor  had,  however,  too  much  true  genius  to  be 
fond  of  thefe  little  affocied  turns  of  exprcffion, 
which  Mufaus  and  others  have  been  induftrious 
to  ftrike  out. 

Thefe  four  verfes  are  tranfpofed  in  the  tranfla- 
tion  for  the  fake  of  the  connection. 

Vcr.  zj.  This  image  of  the  forrow  of  Venus  is 
very  affecting,  and  is  introduced  in  this  place  with 


Each  rival  grace  that  glow'd  with  confcious  pride. 
Each  charm  of  Venus  with  Adonis  dy'd. 
Adonis  dead,  the  vocal  hills  bemoan, 

And  hollow  groves  return  the  faddening  groan. 
The  iwelling  floods  with  fea-born  Venus  weep, 
And  roll  in  mournful  murmurs  to  the  deep  :        40 
In  melting  tears  the  mountain-fprings  comply ; 
The  flow'rs,  low-drooping,  blufh  with  grief,  and 

die. 

Cythera's  groves  with  ftrains  of  forrow  ring ; 
The  dirge  funereal  her  fad  citie?  fing. 
Hark  !  pitying  echoes  Venus'  fighs  return; 
When  Venus  fighs,  can  aught  forbear  to  mourn? 
But  when  fhe  faw  her  fainting  lover  lie 

The  wide  wound  gaping  on  the  withering  thigh; 

But  ftreaming  when  .fhe  faw  life's  purple  tide, 

Stretch'd  her  fair  arms,  with  trembling  voice 
fhe  cry'd :  rO 

Yet  ftay,  lov'd  youth!  a  moment  ere  we  part, 
O  let  me  kifs  thee ! — hold  thee  to  my  heart ! 
A  little  moment,  dear  Adonis  !  ftay, 
And  kifs  thy  Venus,  ere  thofe  lips  are  clay. 
Let  thofe  dear  lips  by  mine  once  more  be  preft, 
Till  thy  laft  breathe  expire  into  my  breaft  ; 
Then  when  life's  ebbing  pulfe  fcarce  fcarcc  can 

.move, 

I'll  catch  thy  foul,  and  drink  thy  dying  love. 
That  laft-left  pledge-  fhall  footh  my  tortur'd  breaft, 

When  thou  art  gone. g$ 

When,  far  from  me,  thy  gentle  ghoft  explores 
Infernal  Pluto's  grimly-glooming  fhores. 

Wretch  that  I  am !  immortal  and  divine, 
In  life  imprifcn'd  whom  the  fates  confine. 
He  comes  !  receive  him  to  thine  iron  arms ; 
Bleft  queen  of  death !  receive  the  prince  of  charnuj 
For  happier  thou,  to  whofe  wide  realms  repair 
Whatever  lovely,  and  whatever  fair* 


great  beauty  and  propriety.  Indeed,  moft  modern 
poets  feem  to  have  obferved  it,  and  have  profited  by 
it  in  their  fcenes  of  elegiac  woe. 

Ver.  39.  When  the  poet  makes  the  rivers  mourn 
for  Venus,  he  very  properly  calls  her  Afgo3/r«; 
but  this  propriety  perhaps  was  merely  accidental, 
as  he  has  given  her  the  fame  appellation  when  fhe 
wanders  the  defert. 

Ver.  41. 

2'  »    Sbvi 


Palenefs  being  the  known  effedl  of  grief,  we 
do  not  at  firft  fight  accept,  this  exprcffion  ;  but 
when  we  confider  that  the  firft  emotions  of  it  are 
attended  with  blufhes,  we  are  plealed  with  the 
obfervation. 

Ver.  43. 


This  paffage  the  fcholiafts  have  entirely  mifuri- 
derftood.  They  make  Kvlvgn  Vcnut,  for  which 
they  have  neither  any  authority,  the  Doric  name 
fhe  borrows  from  that  ifland  being  always  Ki>9t- 
g»<«,  nor  in  theleaft  probability  from  the  connection. 

This  proves  that  the  ifland  Cythcra  was  the 
place  where  Adonis  perifhed,  notwithftanding  tie 
opinion  of  Fropertius  and  others  to  the  contrary. 


THE  WORKS  OFJLANGHORNE. 


The  fmilcs  of  joy,  the  golden  hours  are  fled; 
Grief,  only  grief,  furvives  Adonis  dead.  70 

The  loves  around  in  idle  forrow  ftand, 
And  the  dhn  torch  falls  from  the  vacant  hand. 
Hence  the  vain  zone !  the  myrtle's  flow'ry  pride  ! 
Delight  and  beauty  with  Adonis  dy'd. 

Why  didft  thou,  vent'rous,  the  wild  chafe  ex 
plore, 

From  his  dark  lair  to  roufe  the  tufky  boar  ? 
Far  other  fport  might  thofe  fair  limbs  eflay, 
Than  the  rude  combat,  or  the  favage  fray. 

Thus  Venus  griev'd— the  Cupids  round  deplore 
And  mourn  her  beauty  and  her  love  no  more.     80 
Ifaw  flowing  tears  in  filent  grief  complain, 
Mix  with  the  purple  ftreams,  and  flood  the  plain. 
Yet  not  in  vain  thofe  facred  drops  fhall  flow, 
The  purpla  ftreams  in  blufhing  rofes  glow ; 
And  catching  life  from  ev'ry  falling  tear, 
Their  azure  heads  anemonies  fhall  rear. 

But  ceafe  in  vain  to  cherifh  dire  defpair, 
Nor  mourn  unpitied  to  the  mountain  air, 
The  laft  fad  office  let  thy  hand  fupply,  89 

Stretch  the  ftifF  limbs,  and  clofe  the  glaring  eye. 
That  form  repos'd  beneath  the  bridal  veft, 
May  cheat  thy  forrows  with  the  feint  of  reft. 
For  lovely  fmile  thofe  lips,  though  void  of  breath, 
And  fair  thofe  features  in  the  fhade  of  death. 
Hafte,  fill  with  flow'rs,  with  rofy  wreaths  his  bed ; 
Perilh  the  flow'rs  !  the  prince  of  beauty's  dead. 
Round  the  pale  corfe  each  breathing  eflence  ftrew, 
JL.et  weeping  myrtles  pour  their  balmy  dew ; 
Perifli  the  balms,  unable  to  reftore  99 

Thofe  vital  fweets  of  love  that  charm  no  more ! 

'Tis  done — Behold,  with  purple  robes  array'd, 
In  mournful  ftate  the  clay-cold  Jimbs  are  laid. 
The  loves  lament  with  all  the  rage  of  woe, 
Stamp  on  the  dart,  and  break  the  ufelefs  bow. 
Officious  thefe  the  wat'ry  urn  fupply, 
Unbind  the  bufkin'd  leg,  and  wafh  the  bleeding 

thigh. 

O'er  the  pale  body  thofe  their  light  wings  wave, 
As  yet,  though  vain,  folicitous  to  fave. 

All  wild  with  grief,  their  haplefs  queen  deplore, 
And  mourn  her  beauty  and  her  love  no  more.    HO 
Deje<fted  Hymen  droops  his  head  forlorn, 
His  torch  extinct,  and  flow'ry  treffes  torn : 
-For  nuptial  airs,  and  fongs  of  joy,  remain 
The  fad,  flow  dirge,  the  forrow-breathing  ftrain, 
Who  would  not,  when  Adonis  dies,  deplore  ? 
Who  would  not  weep  when  Hymen  fmiles  no 

more  ? 

.The  graces  mourn  the  prince  of  beauty  flain, 
Loud  as  Dione  on  her  native  main  : 
The  fates  relenting  join  the  general  woe, 
.And  call  the  lover  from  the  realms  below.  120 

'  Vain  hopelcfs  grief !  can  living  founds  pervade 
The  dark,  dead  regions  of  eternal  fhade  ? 
Spare,  Venus,  fpare  that  too  luxuriant  tear 
For  the  long  forrows  of  the  mournful  year. 


Ver.  124.  Numa  feems  to  have  borrowed  the 
cuftom  he  inftituted  of  mourning  a  year  for  the 
deceafed  from  the  Greeks.  For  though  it  is  faid 
only  ten  months  were  fet  apart,  yet  ten  months 
.were  the  year  of  Romulus  till  regulated  by  his 
Tucceflbr. 

I 


THE 

HAPPINESS  OF  A  MODERATE  FORTUNE 
AND  MODERATE  DESIRES. 

FROM  THE  FRENCH   OF  MR.  CRESSET.       1760. 

O  GOODNESS  of  the  golden  mean, 

Whom  ftill  misjudging  folly  flies, 
Seduc'd  by  each  delufive  fcene,; 

Thy  only  fubjects  are  the  wife. 
Thefe  feek  thy  paths  with  nobler  aim, 
And  trace  them  to  the  gates  of  fame. 

See  fofter'd  in  thy  fav'ring  fhade 

Each  tender  bard  of  vcrfe  divine  ! 
Who,  lur'd  by  fortune's  vain  parade, 

Had  never  form'd  the  tuneful  line ; 
By  fortune  lur'd,  or  want  confin'd, 
Whofe  cold  hand  chills  the  genial  mind. 

In  vain  you  flight  the  flowery  crown 

That  fame  wreathes  round  the  favour'd.  head  ! 

Whilft  laurell'd  victory  and  renown 
Their  heroes  from  thy  fhades  have  led ; 

There  form'd  from  courtly  foftnefs  free, 

By  rigid  virtue  and  by  thee. 

By  thee  were  form'd,  from  cities  far, 

Fabricius  jtift,  Camillas  wife, 
Thofe  philofophic  fons  of  war, 

That  from  imperial  dignities 
Returning,  plough'd  their  native  plain, 
And  plac'd  their  laurels  in  thy  fane. 

Thrice  happy  he,  on  whofe  calm  breafl 
The  fmiles  of  peaceful  wifdom  play, 

With  all  thy  fober  charms  pofleft, 
Whofe  wifhes  never  learnt  to  ftray. 

Whom  truth,  of  pleafures  pure  but  grave, 

And  penfive  thoughts  from  folly  fave. 

Far  from  the  crowd's  low-fhoughted  ftrife, 
From  all  that  bounds  fair  freedom's  aim, 

He  envies  not  the  pomp  of  life, 
A  length  of  rent-roll,  or  of  name  : 

For  fafe  he  views  the  vale-grown  elm, 

While  thunder-founding  ftorms  the  mountain  pine 
o'erwhelrn. 

Of  cenfure's  frown  he  feels  no  dread, 

No  fear  he  knows  of  vulgar  eyes, 
Whofe  thought,  to  nobler  objects  led, 

Far,  far  o'er  their  horizon  flies ! 
With  reafon's  fuffrage  at  his  fide, 
Whofe  firm  heart  refts  felf-fatisfied. 

And  while  alternate  conqueft  fways 
The  northern  or  the  fouthern  more, 

He  fmilcs  at  fortune's  giddy  maze, 
And  calmly  hears  the  wild  ftorm  roar. 

Ev'n  nature's  groans,  unmov'd  with  fear, 

And  bursting  worlds  he'd  calmly  hear. 

Such  are  the  faithful  hearts  you  love, 

O  friendfhip  fair,  immortal  maid ; 
The  few  caprice  could  never  move, 

The  few  whom  intereft  never  fway'd ; 
Nor  fhed  unfeen,  with  hate  refin'd, 
The  pale  cares  o'er  the  gloomy  mind. 


POEM    S. 


Soft  fleep,  that  lov'ft  the  peaceful  cell, 
On  thefe  defcends  thy  balmy  power; 

While  no  terrific  dreams  difpel 
The  (lumbers  of  the  fober  hour ; 

Which  oft,  array'd  in  darknefs  drear, 

Wake  the  wild  eye  of  pride  to  fear. 

Content  with  all  a  farm  would  yield, 

Thus  Sidon's  monarch  liv'd  unknown, 
And  figh'd  to  leave  his  little  field 

For -the  long  glories  of  a  throne 

There  once  more  happy  and  more  free 
Than  rank'd  with  Dido's  anceftry. 
With  thefe  pacific  virtues  bleft, 

Thefe  charms  of  philofophic  eafe, 
Wrapt  in  your  Richmond's  tranquil  reft, 

You  pafs,  dear  C -,  your  ufeful  days. 

Where  Thames  your  filent  vallies  laves, 
Proud  of  his  yet  untainted  waves. 
Should  life's  more  public  fcenes  engage 

Your  time  that  thus  cor.liftent  flows, 
And  following  ftilh  thefe  maxims  fage 

For  ever  brings  the  fame  repofe  ; 
Your  worth  may  greater  fame  procure, 
But  hope  not  happinefs  fo  fure. 

SONNET  CLXXIX. 


THOUGH  nobly  born,  to  humble  life  refign'd  ; 
The  pureft  heart,  the  molt  enliphten'd  mind  ; 
A  vernal  flower  that  bears  the  fruits  of  age  ! 
A  cheerful  fpirit,  with  an  afpedt  l»ge,— 
The  power  that  rules  the  planetary  train 
To  her  has  given,  nor  fliall  his 'gifts  be  vain. 
Put  on  her  worth,  her  various  praifc  to  dwell, 
The  truth,  the  merits  of  her  life  to  tell, 
The  mufe  herfelf  would  own  the  taflc  too  hard, 
Too  great  the  labour  for  the  happieft  bard. 
Drefs  that  derives  from  native  beauty  grace, 
And  love  that  holds  with  honefty  his  place; 
Action  that  fpeaks — and  eyes  whole  piercing  ray 
Might  kindle  darknefs,  or  obtcure  the  day  1 


SONNET  CCLXXIX. 

FROM    THE  SAME.      1765. 

'N  the  fair  column,  blafted  is  the  bay, 
That  fliaded  once  my  folitary  fliore  ! 
I've  loft  what  hope  can  never  give  me  more, 
Though  fought  from  Indus  to  the  clofing  day. 
My  twofold  treafure  death  has  fnatch'd  away, 
My  pride,  my  pleafure  left  me  to  deplore : 
What  fields  far-cultur'd,  nor  imperial  fway» 

Nor  orient  goW,  nor  jewels  can  reitore. 
O  deftiny  fevere  of  human  kind  ! 
.  What  portion  have  we  unbedew'd  with  tears  ? 
The  downcaft  vifage,  and  the  penfive  mind 

Through  the  thin  veil  of  fmiling  life  appears  ; 
And  in  one  moment  vanifli  into  wind 

The  hard-earn'd  fruits  of  long  laborious  years. 

SONNET  CCLVII. 

FROM  THE  SAME.      ^6^. 

WHER  E  is  that  face,  whofe  flighted  air  could  move 
My  trembling  heart,  and  ftrike  the  fprings  of  love  ? 


That  heaven,  where  two  fair  ftars,  with  genial 

ray, 

Shed  their  kind  influence  on  life's  dim  way  ? 
Where  are  that  fcience,  fenfe,  and  worth  confeft. 
That  fpeech  by  virtue,  by  the  graces  dreft  ? 
Where  are  thofe  beauties,  where   thofe  charms 

combin'd, 

That  caus'd  this  long  captivity  of  mind  ? 
Where  the  dear»fhade  of  all  that  once  was  fair, 
The  fsurce,  the  folace  of  each  amorous  care ; 
My  heart's  fole  Sovereign,  nature's  only  boaft  ? 
Loft  to  the  world,  to  me  for  ever  loft  ! 

SONNET  CCXXXVIIL 

FROM  THE   SAME.      1765. 

WAIL'D  the  fweet  warbler  to  the  lonely  fliade;  ' 
Trembled  the  green  leaf  to  the  fummer  gale; 
Fell  the  fair  ftream  in  murmursdown  the  dale, 

Its  banks,    its  flowery    banks    with    verduie 
fpreadx 

Where,  by  the  charm  of  penfive  fancy  led, 
All  as  I  fram'd  the  love-lamenting  tale, 
Came  the  dear  object  whom  1  ftill  bewail, 

Came  from  the  regions  of  the  cheerlefs  dead ; 
And  why,  flie  cry'd,  untimely  wilt  thou  die  ? 

Ah  why,  for  pity,  lhall  thofe  mournful  fears, 
Start  in  wild  forrow  from  that  languid  eye  ? 

Cheriflivno  more  thole  vilionary  tears, 
For  me,  who  range  yon  light-inverted  fky  ! 

For  me,  who  triumph  in  eternal  years ! 

TRANSLATION  FROM  CATULLUS.    S~- 

LESBIA,  live  to  love  and  pleafure,  Cf.  b.  //77- 

Carelefs  what  the  grave  may  fay :  *'         >' 

When  each  moment  is  a  treafure, 
Why  mould  lovers  lofe  a  day  ? 

Setting  funs  fhall  rife  in  glory, 

But  when  little  life  is  o'er, 
There's  an  end  of  all  the  ftory  : 

We  lhall  flecp  and  wake  no  more. 

Give  me  then  a  thoufand  kifles, 

Twice  ten  thoufand  more  beftow, 
Till  the  fura  of  boundlefs  bliffes 

Neither  we  nor  envy  know. 

MONODY. 

SUNG  BY  A  REDBREAST. 

THE  gentle  pair  that  in  thefe  lonely  fliades. 
Wandering,  at  eve  or  morn,  I  oft  have  feen, 
Now  all  in  vain  I  feek  at  eve  or  morn, 
With  drooping  wing,  forlorn, 
Along  the  grove,  along  the  daizied  green. 
For  them  I've  warbled  many  a  fummer's  day, 
'Till  the  light  dews  impearled  all  the  plain, 
And  the  glad  fliepherd  fhut  his  nightly  fold ; 
Stories  of  love,  and  high  adventures  old 
Were  the  dear  fubjects  of  my  tuneful  drain. 

Ah  !  where  is  now  the  hope  of  all  my  lay  ? 
Now  they,  perchance,  that  heard  them  all  are  dead! 
With  them  the  meed  of  melod^  is  fled, 
And  fled  with  them  the  liftening  ear  of  praife. 
Vainly  I  dreamt,  that  when  the  wint'ry  fky 
Scatter'd  the  white  flood  on  the  wafted  plain, 
When  not  one  berry,  not  one  leaf  was  nigh, 


THE  WORKS   OF   LANGHORNE. 


To  footh  kern  hunger's  pain, 

Vainly  I  dreamt  my  fongs  might  not  be  vain. 

That  oft  within  the  heritable  hall  _ 

Some  fcatter'd  fragments  haply  I  might  find,  ^ 

Some  friendly  crumb  perchance  for  me  defign'd, 

When  feen  defpairing  on  the  neighbouring  wall. 

Deluded  biid,  thofe  hopes  are  now  no  more  ! 

Dull  time  has  blafted  the  defpairing  year, 

And  winter  frowns  fevere, 

Wrapping  his  wan  limbs  in  his  mantle  hoar. 

Yet  not  within  the  hofpitable  hall 

The  cheerful  found  of  human  voice  I  hear ; 

No  piteous  eye  is  near, 

To  fee  me  drooping  on  the  lonely  wall. 

TO  A  REDBREAST. 

XITTLE  bird,  with  bofom  red, 
Welcome  to  my  humble  flied  1 
Courtly  domes  of  high  degree 
Have  no  room  for  thee  and  me  ; 
Pride  and  pleafure's  fickle  throng 
Nothing  mind  an  idle  fong. 

Daily  near  rny  table  fteal, 
While  I  pick  my  fcanty  meal. 
Doubt  not,  little  though  there  be> 
But  I'll  caft  a  crumb  to  thee  ; 
Well  rewarded,  if  I  fpy 
Ileafure  in  thy  glancing  eye : 
See  thee,  when  thou'ft  eat  thy  fill, 
flume  thy  bread,  and  wipe  thy  bill. 

Come,  my  feather'd  friend,  again 
Well  thou  knoweft  the  broken  pane. 
A(k  of  me  thy  daily  ftore  : 
Co  not  near  Avaro's  door ; 
Once  within  hit  iron  hall, 
Woeful  end  fhall  thee  befall. 
Savage  ! — He  would  foon  diveft 
Of  its  rofy  plumes  thy  breaft  ; 
Then,  with  folitary  joy, 
Eat  thee,  bones  and  all,  my  boy  ! 

A  CONTEMPLATION. 

0  NATURE  I  grateful  for  the  gifts  of  mind, 
Duteous  I  bend  before  thy  holy  flirine  : 

To  other  hands  be  fortune's  goods  affign'd, 

And  thou.  more  bounteous,  grant  me  only  thine, 

Bring  gentleft  love,  bring  fancy  to  my  breaft  ; 
And  if  wild  genius,  in  his  devious  way, 

Would  fometimes  deign  to  be  my  evening  gueft, 
Or  near  my  lone  fhade  not  unkindly  ftray  : 

1  nik  no  more  '.  for  happier  gifts  than  thefe, 

The  fufferer,  man,  was  never  born  to  prove, 
But  may  my  foul  eternal  (lumbers  feize, 
If  loft  to.genius,  fancy,  and  to  love  '. 

MENALCAS.    A  PASTORAL. 

Now  ceafe  your  fweet  pipes,  ILepherdsl  ceafe  your 

lays. 

Ye  warbling  train,  that  fill  the  echoing  groves 
With  your  melodious  love-notes!  Die,  ye  winds, 
That  o'er  Arcadian  valleys  blows  1  Ye  ftreams, 
Yc  garrulous  old  dreams,  fufpend  your  courfe, 

And  liften  to  Merralcas 

Menalcat. 

Come  faireft  of  the  beauteous  train  that  fport 
On  Ladon's  flowery  fide,  my  pelia,  come  1 


For  thee  thy  fhepherd,  filent  as!;efus 

Within  the  green  wood,  iighs;    for  thee  prepares 

The  various  wreaths  in  vain;  explores  the  fliade 

Where  lowly  lurks  the  violet  blue,  where  droops, 

In  tender  beauty,  its  fair  fpotted  bells 

The  cowflip  :  oft  with  plaintive  voice  he  calls 

The  waketul  echo— What  are  ftreams  or  flowers, 

Or  fongs  of  blithe  birds  ?  What  the  bluming  roi'e, 

Young  health,  or  mufic,  or  the  voice  of  praife, 

The  fmile  of  vernal  funs,  the  fragrant  breath 

Of  evening  gales,  when  Delia  dwells  afar  J 

TO  THE  REV.  MR.  LAMB. 

LAMB,  could  the  mufe  that  boafts  thy  forming  care 

•Unfold  the  grateful  feelings  of  my  heart, 
Her  hand  for  thee  fhould  many  a  wreath  prepare, 
And  cull  the  choicert  flowers  with  ftudious  art. 

For  mark'd  by  thee  was  each  imperfect  ray 
That  haply  wander'd  o'er  my  infant  mind ; 

The  dawn  of  genius  brighten'd  into  day, 
As  thy  (kill  open'd,  as  thy  lore  refin'd. 

Each  uncouth  lay  that  faulter'd  from  my  tongue, 
At  eve  or  morn  from  Eden's  murmurs  caught; 

Whate'er  I  painted,  and  whate'er  I  fung, 
Though  rude  the  it  rain,  though  ar  clefs  was  the 
draught. 

You  wifely  prais'd,  and  fed  the  facred  fire, 

That  warms  the  breaft  withloveand  honeftfame; 

You  fwell'd  to  nobler  heights  my  infant  lyre, 
Rais'd  the  low  thought,  and  check'd  th  exube 
rant  flame. 

O,  could  the  mufe  in  future  times  obtain 
One  humble  garland  from  th'  Aonian  tree  I 

With  jov  I'd  bind  thy  favour'd  brows  again, 
With  joy  I'd  form  a  fairer  wreath  for  thee. 

AN  ODE. 

TO  THE  GENIUS  OF  WESTMORELAND. 

HAIL  hidden  power  of  thefe  wild  groves, 
Thefe  uncouth  rocks,  and  mountains  gray  1 
Where  oft,  as  fades  the  clofing  day, 

The  family  of  fancy  roves. 

In  what  lone  cave,  what  facred  cell, 
Coeval  with  the  birth  of  time, 
Wrapt  in  high  cares,  and  thought  fublime, 

In  awful  filence  doft  thou  dwell  ?  , 

Oft  in  the  depth  of  winter's  reign, 

As  blew  the  bleak  winds  o'er  the  dale ; 
Moaning  along  the  diftant  gale, 

Has  fancy  heard  thy  voice  complain, 

Oft  in  the  dark  wood's  lonely  way, 
Swift  has  (he  feen  thee  glancing  by ; 
Or  down  the  fummer  evening  iky, 

Sporting  in  clouds  of  gilded  day. 

If  caught  from  thee  the  facred  fire, 

That  glow'd  within  my  youthful  breaft  ; 
Thofe  thoughts  too  high  to  be  expreft, 

Genius,  if  thou  did'ft  once  infpire ; 

O  pleas'd  accept  this  votive  lay, 
That  in  ray  native  Ibades  recir'd, 
And  once,  once  more  by  thee  iafpir'd, 

la  gratitude  I  pay. 


POEMS. 


HYMN  TO  PLUTUS. 


GREAT  God  of  wealth,  before  whofe  facred  throne 
Truth,  honour,  genius,  fame  and  worth  lie  prone  I 
To  thy  throng'd  temples  take  one  votary  more  : 
To  thee  a  poet  never  kneel'd  before. 

Adieu  the  gods  that  caught  my  early  prayer  ! 
Wifdom  tint   frown'd,   and  knowledge  fraught 

with  care  ! 

Friendlhip  that  every  veering  gale  could  move  I 
And  tantalizing  hope,  and  faithlefs  love  1 
Thefe,  thefe  are  Haves  that  in  thy  livery  fliine  ', 
For  wifdom,  friendlhip,  love  himfelf  is  thine  ? 

For  thee  1M  labour  down  the  mine's  dark  way, 
And  leave  the  confines  of  enlivening  day  ; 
For  thee  Alturia's  (himng  fands  explore, 
And  bear  the  fplendours  of  Potofi's  ore 
Scale  the  high  rock,  and  tempt  the  racing  fea» 
And  think,  nnd  toil,  and  wifli,  and  wake  for  thee. 
Farewell  the  fcenes  that  thoughtleis  youth  could 

pleale'j 

The  flowery  fcenes  ot  indolence  and  cafe. 
Where  you  the  way  with  magic  power  beguile, 
Baffbra's  deep,  or  Lybia's  deferts  fmile. 

Foes  of  thy  worth,  that,  inlolent  and  vain, 
Deride  thy  maxims,  and  reject  thy  reign, 
The  frantic  tribe  of  virtue  fnall  depart, 
And  make  no  more  their  ravage  in  my  heart. 
Away  "  The  tears  that  pity  taught  lo  flow  1" 
Away  that  anguifh  for  a  brother's  woe  ! 
Adieu  to  thefe,  and  every  tirelbme  gueft, 
That  drain'd  my  fortunes  or  deftroy'd  my  reft  ! 

Ah,  good  Avaro  !  could  I  thee  defpife  ? 
Thee,  good  Avaro  ;  provident  and  wife  ? 
Plutus,  forgive  the  bitter  things  I've  faidl 
I  love  Avaro  ;  poor  Avaro's  dead. 

Yet,  yet  I'm  thine;  for  fame's  unerring  tongue 
In  thy  footh'd  ear  thus  pours  her  filver  fong. 
"  Immortal  Plutus  !  god  of  golden  eafe  1 
"  Form'd  every  heart,  and  every  eye  to  pleafe  ', 

For  thee  content  her  downy  carpet  fpreads, 

And  rofy  pleafure  fwells  her  genial  beds. 

*T  s  thine  to  gild  the  manfions  of  defpair; 

Arid  beam  a  glory  round  the  brows  of  care  ; 

To  cheat  the  lazy  pace  of  fleeplefs  hours, 

With  marble  fountains,  and  ambrofial  bowers." 

O  grant  me,  Plutus,  fcenes  like  thofe  I  fung, 
My  youthful  lyre  when  vernal  fancy  ftrung. 
For  me  their  fliades  let  other  Studleys  rear, 
Though  each  tree's  water'd  with  a  widow's  tear  ! 

Detefted  god  !—  forgive  me  '.  I  adore. 
Great  Plutus,  grant  rrie  one  petition  more. 
Should  Delia,  tender,  generous,  fair  and  free, 
Leave  love  and  truth,  and  facrifice  to  thee, 
I  charge  thee,  Plutus,  be  to  Delia  kind, 
And  make  her  fortunes  richer  than  her  mind. 
Be  hers  the  wealth  all  Heav'n's  broad  eye  can 

view  ; 
Grant  her,  good  god,  Don  Philip  and  Peru. 

HYMN  TO  HUMANITY. 


virtue,  if  thine  ear 
Attend  not  now  to  forrow's  cry  ; 

Jf  now  the  pity-ftreaming  tear 

Should  haply  on  thy  cheeks  be  dry  ; 

Indulge  my  votive  itraia,  O  iwcet  humanity. 


Come,  ever  welcome  to  my  breaft  1 
A  tender,  but  a  cheerful  gueft ; 
Nor  always  in  the  gloomy  cell 
Of  lite-confuming  forrow  dwell ; 
For  forrow,  long-indulg'd  and  flow, 
Is  to  humanity  a  foe  ; 
And  grief,  that  make  s  the  heart  its  prey. 
Wears  fenfibility  away. 
Then  come,  fweet  nymph,  inftead  of  thee, 
The  gloomy  fiend,  ftupidity. 

O  may  that  fiend  be  banith'd  far, 
Though  paflionshold  eternal  war  1 
Nor  ever  let  me  ceaie  to  know 
The  piilfe  that  throbs  at  joy  or  wos. 
Nor  let  my' vacant  cheek  be  dry, 
When  forrow  fills  a  brother's  eye  ; 
Nor  may  the  tear  that  frequent  flows 
From  private  or  from  focial  woes. 
E'er  make  this  pleafing  fenfe  depart. 
Ye  cares,  O  harden  not  my  heart . 

If  the  fair  ftar  of  fortune  fmile, 
Let  not  its  flattering  power  beguile: 
Nor.  borne  along  the  fav'ring  tide, 
My  full  fails  fwell  with  bloating  pride. 
Let  me  from  wealth  but  hope  content, 
Remembering  ftill  it  was  but  lent ; 
To  modeft  merit  fpread  my  ftore, 
Unbar  my  hofpitable  door ; 
Nor  feed,  for  pomp,  an  idle  train. 
While  want  unpitied  pines  in  vain. 

If  Heaven,  in  every  purpofe  wife. 
The  envied  lot  of  wealth  denies; 
If  doom'd  to  drag  life's  painful  load 
Through  poverty's  uneven  road, 
And,  for  the  due  bread  of  the  day, 
Deftin'd  to  toil  as  well  as  pray ; 
To  thee,  humanity,  Hill  true, 
I'll  wifh  the  good  I  cannot  do ; 
And  give  the  wretch,  that  paries  by, 
A  foothing  word — a  tear— a  figh. 

Howe'er  exalted,  or  depreft. 
Be  ever  mine  the  feeling  breaft. 
From  me  remove  the  ftagnant  mind 
Of  languid  indolence,  reclin'd  ; 
The  foul  that  one  long  Sabbath  keeps, 
And  through  the  fun's  whole  circle  fleeps  j 
Dull  peace,  that  dwells  in  folly's  eye, 
And  felt-attending  vanity. 
Alike,  the  foolifh,  and  the  vain 
Are  Itrangers  to  the  fenfe  humane. 

O  for  that  fympathetic  glow 
Which  taught  the  holy  tear  to  flow, 
When  the  prophetic  eye  furvey'd 
Sion  in  future  allies  laid  ; 
Or,  rais'd  to  Heaven,  implor'd  the  bread 
That  thoufands  in  the  drfert  fed  ! 
Or,  when  the  heart  o'er  friendship's  grave 
Sigh'd ;-- -af  d  forgot  its  power  to  fave— • 

0  for  thtt  fympathetic  glow 
Which  taught  the  holy  tear  to  flow  ! 

It  comes :  It  fills  my  labouring  breaft  ! 

1  feel  my  beating  heart  oppreft. 

Oil !  hear  that  lonely  widow's  wail ! 
Sec  her  dim  eye  !  her  afpect  pale  « 


24° 


THE  WORKS  OF  LANGHORNE. 


To  Heaven  (be  turns  in  deep  defpair, 
Her  infants  wonder  at  her  prayer, 
And,  mingling  tears  they  know  not  why, 
Lift  up  their  little  hands,  and  cry. 
O  God  !  their  moving  forrows  fee ! 
Support  them,  fweet  humanity! 

Life,  fill'd  with  grief's  diftrefsful  train, 
For  ever  aiks  the  tear  humane. 
Behold  in  yon  unconfcious  grove 
The  victims  of  ill-fated  love  1 
Hea'rd  you  that  agonizing  throe  ? 
Sure  this  is  not  romantic  woe  ! 
The  golden  day  of  joy  is  o'er; 

Ami  now  they  part to  meet  no  more. 

A/lift  them,  hearts  from  anguilh  free  1 
Affilt  them,  fweet  humanity  ! 

Earent  of  virtue,  if  thine  cat- 
Attend  not  now  to  forrow's  cry  ; 

If  now  the  pity-ftreaming  tear 
Should  haply  on  thy  cheek  be  dry, 

Indulge  my  votive  ftrain,  O  fweet  humanity  ! 

EPISTLE  TO  MR.  

FROM  fcenes  where  fancy  no  excurfion  tries, 
Nor  tsufts  her  wing  to  fmoke-invelop'd  flues ; 
Far  from  the  town's  detefted  haunts  remov'd, 
And  nought  but  thee  deferted  that  I  lov'd  ; 
From  noiie  and  folly  and  the  xvorld  got  free, 
One  truant  thought  yet  only  flays  for  thee. . 

What  is  that  world  which  makes  the  heart  its 

Have  ? 

A  reftlefs  fea  revolving  wave  on  wave : 
There  rags  the  ftorms  of  each  uncertain  clime : 
There  float  the  wrecks  of  fortune  and  of  time  : 
There  hope's  fmooth  gales  in  fuft  fucceflion  blow, 
While  difappointment  hides  the  rock  below. 
The  fyren  pleafures  tune  their  fatal  breath, 
And  lull  you  to  the  long  repofe  of  death. 

What  is  that  world  ?  at 'tis  no  more 

Than  the  vext  ocean  while  we  walk  the  (hore. 
Loud  roar  the  winds  and  fwell  the  wild  waves  high, 
Lafh  the  rude  beach,  and  frighten  all  the  fky ; 
No  longer  ihall  toy  little  bark  be  rent, 
Since  hope  refign'd  .her  anchor  to  content. 

Like  fome  poor  fiflier  that,  efcap'd  with  life, 
Will  trufl?  no  more  to  elemental  ftrife  ; 
But  fits  in  fafety  on  the  green-bank  fide, 
And  livfs  upon  the  leavings  of  the  tide  ; 
Like  him  contented  you  your  friend  fiiall  fee, 
As  fafe,  as  happy;  and  as  poor  as  he. 

TO  A  LADY. 

\  • 

ON  READING  AN  EL.EGY  WRITTEN  BY  HER, 

On  the  Search  of  Hitppinefs. 

To  feck' the  lovely  nymph  you  fing, 

I've  wahder'd  many  a.  weary  mile, 
From  grove  to  grove,  from  fpring  to  fpring ; 

If  here  or  there  (he  deignM  to  fmile. 

Nay,  what  I  now  muft  blufli  to  fay,. 

For  fure  it  hap'cl  in  evil  hour  ; 
I  once  fo  far  millook  my  way, 

To  feek  her  in  the  haunts  of  power. 


How  fhould  fuccefs  my  fearch  betide, 
When  ftill  fo  far  I  wander'd  wrong  ? 

For  happinefs  on  Arrowe's  fide, 
Was  liftening  to  Maria's  fong. 

Delighted  thus  with  you  to  ftay,' 

What  hope 'have  I  the  nymph  to  fee  ; 

Unlefs  you  ceafe  your  magic  lay, 
Or  bring  her  in  your  arms  to  me  ? 

A  MONODY. 

INSCRIBED  TO   MY    WORTHY    FRIEND    JOHN 
SCOTT,    ESQ. 

Being  'written  in  his  Garden  at  Atnwell,  in   Hert* 
ford/Lire,  the  beginning  of  the  year  1769. 

FRIEND  of  my  genius !  on  whofe  natal  hour, 
Shone  the  fame  ftar,  but  (hone  with  brighter 

ray; 

Oft  as  amidft  thyAmwell's  fhades  I  ftray, 
And  mark  thy  true  tafte  in  each  winding  bower, 
From  my  full  eye  why  falls  the  tender  fhower  ? 
While  other  thoughts  than  thefe  fair  fcenes  con 
vey,  [away. 
Bear  on  my  trembling  mind,  and  melt  its  powers 

Ah  me  '.  my  friend  !  in  happier  hours  I  fpread 

Like  thee  the  wild  walk  o'er  the  varied  plain  ; 
•  The  faireft  tribes  of  Flora's  painted  train, 

Each  bolder  fhrub  thatgrac'd  her  genial  bed, 

When  old  Sylvanus,  by  young  wiihes  led, 
Stole  to  her  arms,  of  fuch  fair  offspring  vain, 
That  bore  their  mother's  beauties  on  their  head. 

Like  thee,  infpir'd  by  love— -'twas  Delia's  charms, 
'Twas  Delia's  tafte  the  new  creation  gave  : 
For  her  my  groves  in  plaintive  fighs  would  wave, 

And  call  her  abfent  to  their  matter's  arms. 

She  comes — Ye  flowers  your  faireft  blooms  unfold  I 
Ye  waving  groves,  your  plaintive  fighs  forbear  ! 
Breathe  all  your  fragrance  to  the  amorous  air, 

Ye  fmiling  (hrubs  whofe  heads  are  cloth'd  with 
gold! 

She  comes,  by  truth,  by  fair  affection  led, 
The  long-lov'd  miftrefs  of  my  faithful* heart '. 
The  miftrefs  of  my  foul,  no  more  to  part, 

And  all  my  hopes,  and  all  my  vows  are  fped. 

Vain,  vain  deluiions  !  dreams  for  ever  fled  '. 

Ere  twice  the  fpring  had  wak'd  the  genial  hour, 
The  lovely  parent  bore  one  beauteous  flower, 

And  droop'd  her  gentle  head, 

And  funk,  for  ever  funk,  into  her  filent  bed. 

Friend  of  my  genius !  partner  of  my  fate  I 
To  equal  fenfe  of  painful  fuffering  born  ! 
From  whofe  fond  breaft  a  lovely  parent  torn, 

Bedew'd  thy  pale  cheek  with  a  tear  fo  late ; — 

Oh  !  let  us  mindful  of  the  fhort,  fhort  date, 
That  bears  the  fpoilof  human  hopes  away, 
Indulge  fweet  memory  of  each  happier  day  ! 

No  !  clofe,  for  ever  clofe  the  iron-gate 
Of  cold  oblivion  on  that  dreary  cell, 
Where  the  pale  fhades  of  paft  enjoyments  dwell, 
And  pointing  ta  their  bleeding  bofoms  fay, 

On  life's  difaftrous  hour  what  varied  woes  await  I 

Let  fcenes  of  fofter,  gentler  kind, 
Awake,  to  fancy's  foothing  call, 


POEM    S. 


241 


And  milder  on  the  penflve  mind, 

The  lhadowed  thought  of  grief  fliall  fall. 
Oft  as  the  ilowly-clofing  day 

Draws  her  pale  mantle  from  the  dew-ftar's  eye, 

What  time,  the  fliepherd's  cry 
Leads  from  the  paftur'd  hills  his  flocks  away, 
Attentive  to  the  tender  lay 
That  fteals  from  Philomela's  breaft, 

Let  us  in  muling,  lilence  ftray, 

Where  Lee  beholds  in  mazes  flow 

His  uncomplaining  waters  flow,  (reft. 

Aad  all  his  whifpenng  fhores  invite  the  charm  of 

IMITATIONS  OF  WALLER. 

WALLER  TO  ST.  EVREMOND. 

O  VALES  of  Penlliurft  now  fo  long  unfeen ! 
Forgot  each  fecure  (hade,  each  winding  green; 
Thofe  lonely  paths  what  art  have  I  to  tread, 
Where  once  young  love,  the  blind  enthufiaft,  led  ? 
Yet  if  the  genius  of  your  confcious  groves 
His  Sidney  in  my  SacharifTa  loves  ; 
Let  hi*n  with  pride  her  cruel  power  unfold  j 
By  him  my  pains  let  Evremond  be  told. 

INSCRIPTIONS  ON  A  BEECH- TREE, 

IN  THE   ISLAND  OF  SICILY. 

SWEET  land  of  mufes !  o'er  whofe  favour'd  plains 
Ceres  and  Flora  held  alternate  fway ;' 

By  Jove  refrem'd  with  life-diffiifmg  rains, 
By  Phoebus  bleft  with  every  kinder  ray  ! 

O  with  what  pride  do  I  thofe  times  furvey, 

When  freedom,  by  her  ruftic  minrtrels  led, 
Danc'don  the  green  lawn  many  a  fummer's  day, 

While  paftoral  eafe  reclin'd  her  carelefs  head. 
In  thefe  foft  (hades ;  ere  yet  that  fhepherd  fled, 

Whofe  mufic  pierc'd  earth,  air,  and  Heaven  and 

hell, 
And  call'd  the  ruthlefs  tyrant  of  the  dead 

From  the  dark  (lumbers  of  his  iron  cell. 
His  ear  unfolding  caught  the  magic  fpell : 

He  felt  the  founds  glide  foftly  through  his  heart ; 
The  founds  that  deign'd  of  love's  fweet  power  to 
tell; 

And  as  they  told,  would  point  his  golden  dart. 
1'iVd  was  the  god  ;  nor  power  had  he  to  part, 

For  the  fairdaughter  of  the  fheaf'-crown'd  queen, 
Fair  without  pride,  and  lovely  without  art, 

Gather'd  her  wild  flowers  oil  the  daified  green. 
Hefa'w;  he  figh'd  ;  and  that  unmelting  breaft, 
Which  arms  the  hand  of  death,  the  power  of  love 
confefs'd. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  MAZARINE, 

01C  HER  RETIRING  INTO  A  CONTENT. 

YE  holy  cares  that  haunt  thefe  lonely  cells, 
Thefe  fcenes  where  falutary  fadnefs  dwells; 
Ye  fighs  that  minute  the  flow  wafting  day, 
Ye  pale  regrets  that  wear  my  life  a\vay  ; 
O  bid  thefe  pafllons  for  the  world  depart, 
Thefe  wild  defires,  and  vanities  of  heart, 
Hide  every  trace  of  vice,  of  follies  paft, 
And  yield  to  Heaven  the  vi^orv  at  i?.^ 
VOL.  XL 


To  that  the  poor  remains  of  life  are  due, 
Tis  Heaven  that  calls,  and  t  the  call  purfue. 
Lord  of  my  life,  my  future  cares  are  thine. 
My  love,  my  duty  greet  thy  holy  fhrine  : 
No  more  my  heart  to  vainer  hopes  I  give, 
But  live  for  thee,  whofe  bounty  bids  me  live. 

The  power  that  gave  thefe  little  charms  their 

grace, 

His  favours  bounded,  and  confin'd  their  fpace.  / 
Spite  of  thofe  charms  (hall  time,  with  rude  efiay, 
Tear  from  the  cheek  the.  transient  rofe  away. 
But  the  free  mind,  ten  thoufand  ages  paft. 
Its  Maker's  form,  fliall  with  its  Maker  laft. 

Uncertain  objects  (till  our  hopes  employ  ; 
Uncertain  all  that  bears  the  name  ot  joy  ! 
Of  all  that  feels  thejnjuries  of  fate 
Uncertain  is  the  fearch,  and  mort  the  date. 
Yet  ev'n  that  boon  what  thoufands  wifli  to  gain? 
That  boon  of  death,  the  fad  refource  of  pain  1 

Once  on  my  path  all  fortune's  glory  fetf,' 
Her  vain  magnificence,  and  courtly  fweli: 
Love  touch'd  my  foul  at  lea-ft  with  foft  defires, 
And  vanity  there  fed  her  meteor  fires. 
This  truth  at  laft  the  mighty  fcenes  let  fall, 
An  hour  of  innocence  was  worth  them  all. 

Lord  of  my  life  !  O,  let  thy  facred  ray 
Shine  o'er  my  heart,  and  break  its, clouds  away. 
Deluding,  flattering,  faithlefs  world  adieu  ! 
Long  haft  thou  taught  me, 'God  is  only  true  ! 
That  God  alone  I  truft,  alone  adore, 
No  more  deluded,  and  mifled  no  more.       [ceafe ! 

Come,  facred  hour,  when  wavering  doubts  Ihal! 
Come  holy  fcenes  of  long  repofe  and  peace  ! 
Yet  (hall  my  heart,  to  other  interefts  true, 
A  moment  balance  'twixt  the  world  and  you  ?    ' 
Of  penlive  nights,  of  long-refledling  days, 
Be  yours,  at  laft,  the  triumph  and  the  praife  ! 

Great,  gracious  Mafter,  whofe  unbounded  fwar. 
Felt  through  ten  thoufand  worlds,  .thofe  worlds 
Wilt  thou  for  once  thy  awful  g lories  made;,  [obey  ; 
And  deign  t'  efpoufe  the  creature  thou  haft  made  ? 
All  other  ties  indignant  I  difclaim, 
Difhonour'd  thole,  and  infamous  to  name  ! 

O  fatal  ties,  for  which  fuch  tears  I've  (lied,.    • 
For  which  the  pleafures  of  t!ie  world  lay  dead  ! 
That  world's  foft  pleafures  you  alone  difarm  ;' 
That  world  without  you,  (till  tiiight  have  its-charm. 
But  now  thofe  fcenes  of  tempting  hope  I  dole, 
And  feek  the  peaceful  ItuJiei  of  repofe  ; 
Look  on  the  paft  as  time  that  Hole  away, 
And  beg  the  bleffings  of  a  happier  day 

Ye  gay  faioons  ye"gol;ien-vefted  halls, 
Scenes  of  high  treats  and  heart-bewitching-  b?!ls.! 
Drefs,  figure,  fplendour,  charms  of  play,'  t'arewfelr, 
And  all  the  toilet's  fcienct  to  exce>; 
Even  love  that  ambufh'd  in  this  beauteous'.hair, 
No  more  (hall  fie,  Hke  Indian  archer?,  there. 
Go,  errbg  love  '.  tor  nobler,  objects  given  1 
Go,  beauteous  hair,  a  facrince  to  Heaven  !       '     > 

Soon  (hall  the  veil  thefe  gJowinj;  features  hije, 
At  once  the  peri&J  of  their  power  md  pride  '. 
The  tuple  fs  lover  Ihall^no  more  complain 
Of  vows  unheard,  or  unrewarded  puiii  : 
\\rhile  calmly  fl?ep  in  each  untortur'd  breaft. 
Mv  fee  ret  forrow,  and  his  fighs.  prole  it. 

Go,  flattering  train  1  aml,'flaves  to  me  no  ipore,' 
With  th-r  f?.me  Sghs  fo:ne  happier  fair  adore  I 


44i  THE   WORKS 

Your  alter'd  faith,  I  blame  not,  nor  bewail — 
And  haply  yet,  (what  woman  is  not  irail :) 
Yet,  haply,  might  I  calmer  minutes  prove, 
If  he  that  lov'd  me  knew  no  other  love  I 

Yet  were  that  ardour,  which  his  breafl  infpir'd, 
By  charms  of  more  than  mortal  beauty  rir'd  ; 
What  nobler  pride  !  could  I  to  Heaven  refign 
The  zeal,  the  fervice  that  I  boafted  mine  '. 
O,  change  your  falfe  defires,  ye  flattering  train! 
And  love  me  pious,  whom  ye  lov'd  profane  ! 

Thefe  long  adieus  with  lovers  doom'd  to  go, 
Or  prove  their  merit,  or  ray  weaknefs  fliow, 
But  Heaven,  to  fuch  foft  frailties  lefs  fevere, 
May  fpare  the  tribute  of  a  female  tear, 
May  yield  one  tender  moment  to  deplore 
Th,ofe  gentle  hearts  that  I  muft  hold  no  more. 

THE  VICEROY: 

ADDBESSED  TO  THE  EARL  OF  HALIFAX*. 

Fir/t  pulli/lsed  in  176!. 
'TwAS  on  time's  birth-day,  when  the  voice  divine 


Wak'd  fleeping  nature,  while  her  infant  eye, 
Yet  trembling,  fttuggl'd  with  created  light ; 
The  Heaven-born  mufe,  fprung  from  the  fource 

fublime 

Of  harmony  immortal,  firft  receiv'd 
Her  facred  mandate.    "  Go,  feraphicmaid, 
"  Companion  ftill  to  nature  !  from  her  woiks 
Derive  thy  lay  melodious,  great,  like  thofe, 
And  elegantly  fimple.     In  thy  train, 
Glory,  and  fair  renown,  and  deathlefs  fame 
Attendant  ever,  each  immortal  name, 
By  thee  deem'd  facred,  to  yon  ftarry  vault 
Shall  bear,  and  (lamp  in  characters  of  gold. 
Be  thine  the  care,  alone  where  truth  directs 
The  firm  heart,  where  the  love  of  human  kind 
Inflames  the  patriot  fpirit,  there  to  footh 
The  toils  of  virtue  with  melodious  praife: 
For  thofe,  that  fmiling  feraph/bids  thee  wake 
His  golden  lyre  ;  for  thofe,  the  young-ey'd  fun 
Gilds  this  fair-formed  world  ;  and  genial  fpring 
Throws  many  a  green  wreath,  liberal  from  his 

*'  bofbm." 

So  fpake  the  voice  divine,  whofe  laft  fvveet  found 
Gave  birth  to  echo,  tuneful  nymph,  that  loves 
The  mufe's  haunt,  dim  grove,  or  lonely  dale. 
Or  high  wood  old  ;   and,  liftening  while'  fhe  fings, 
Dwells  in  long  rapture  on  each  falling  ftrain. 

O  Halifax,  an  humble  mufe  that  dwells 
In  fcenes  like  thefe,  a  ftrahger  to  the  world, 
To  thee  a  ftranger,  late  has  learn'd  thy  fame, 
Even  in  this  vale  of  filence;  from  the  voice 
Of  echo  learn'd  it,  and,. -like  her,  delights. 
With  thy  lov'd  name,  to  make  thefe  wild  woods 

vocal. 

Spirits  cf  ancient  time,  to  high  renown 
By  martial  glory  rais'd,  and  deeds  auguil, 

*  The  refolutton  cf  the  Irifl  Houfe  of  Commons 
ref petting  the  augmentation  of  the  revenue  of  the 
Lord  Lieutenant,  Feb.  26.  1762,  and  his  Exce l- 
lenfy1  s  fpeeebin  confeqvence  thereof,  Feb.  27.  -will 
both  Hilt/Irate  this  poem,  and  /Low  the  Qccafion 
Of  it. 


OF   LAN€HORNE. 

Atchiev'd  for  Britain's  freedom  !   patriot  hearts, 
That,  fearlefs  of  a  tyrant's  threatening  arm, 
Embrac'd  your  bleeding  country  '.  o'er  the  page, 
Where  hiftory  triumphs  in  your  holy  names, 
O'er  the  dim  monuments  that  mark  your  graves, 
Why  ftreams  my  eye  with  p!eafure  !  'tis  the  joy 
The  foft   delight    that   through   the    full   breaft 

flows, 
From  fiveet  remembrance  of  departed  virtue  ! 

O  Britain,  parent  of  illuflrious  names, 
While  o'er  thy  annah>  memory  (hoots  her  eye 
How  the  heart  glows,  rapt  with  high-wondering 

love. 

And  emulous  efteem  !  hail,  Sydney,  hail '. 
Whether  Arcadian  blithe,  by  fountain  clear, 
Piping  thy  love-lays \vihl,  01  Spartan  bold, 
In  freedom's  van  diltinguifh'd.  Sydney,  hail '. 
Oft  o'er  thy  laurell'd  tomb  from  hai^ds  unfeen 
Fall  flowers ;  oft  in  the  vales  of  Penfluirft  fair 
Menalca,  ftepping  from  his  evening  fold, 
Lifteneth  itrange  mtific,  from  the  tiny  breath 
Of  fairy  minftrels  warbled,  which  of  old. 
Dancing  to  thy  fweet  lays,  they  learnf  Q  well. 
On   Raleigh's  grave,    O    drew   the    fweeteft 

flowers, 

Tint  on  the  bofom  of  the  green  vale  blow  ! 
There  hang;  your  vernal  wreaths,  ye  village  maids ! 
Ye  mountain  nymphs,  your  crowns  of  wild  thyme 

bring  [h-vy* 

To  Raleigh's  honour'd  grave !  there  bloom  the 
The  virgin  rofe,  that,  bhiihing  to  be  feen. 
Folds  its  fair  leaves ;  for  modeft  wnrth  was  his  ; " 
A  mind  where  truth,  philofophy's  f.rft  born, 
Held  her  harmonious  reign  :    A  Briton's  breaft, 
Tint,  careful  ftill  of  freedom's  holy  piecljt, 
Difdain'd  the  mean  arts  of  a  tyrant's  court, 
Difdain'd  and  died  1  where  wa    thv  font  then, 


Queen  of  tea-crowning  iflt-s,  when  Ral-  gh  bled  J 
How  well  he  fc-rv'd  thee,  let  Iberia  tell  ! 
Afk  proftrate  Gales,  yet  trembling  at  Lis  name. 
How  well   he  ferv'd  thee ;  when  htr  van^uiib'd 

hanl 
Held  fortii  the  bafe  bribe,  how  he  fpurn'd  it  fiom 

him, 

And  cried.  I  fight  for  Britain  !   rrftory  rife, 
And  blaft  the  reigns  that  redden  with  the  blood 
Of  thofe  that  gave  th-m  glory  '.  happier  days, 
Gilt  with  a  Brur.fw.ck's  parent  fmile.  await 
The  honour'd  Viceroy.      More  aufpicious  hours 
Shall  Halifax  behold,  nor  grieve*  to  find 
A  favour'd  land  ungrateful  to  his  care. 

O  for  th;  mufe  of  Milton,  to  record 
The  honours  of  that  day,  when  full  conven'd 
Hibernia's  fenate  with  one  voice  prociaim'd 
A  nation's  hig^i  appTaufe  ;   when  long  oppreft. 
With  wealth-confirming  war,  their  eager  love 
AdvancM  the  princely  dignity's  fupport,     . 
While  Halifax  prefidrd  '.   O,  belov'd 
By  every  mufe,  grace  of  the  polilh'd  court, 
The  peafant's  guardian,  then  what  pleature  felt 
Thy  liberal  bofom  !  not  the  low  delight 
Of  fortune's  added  gifts,  greatly  dechnM  ; 
No  ;  'twas  the  fupreme  blifs  that  rills  the  breaft, 
Of  confcious  virtue,  happy  to  behold 
Her  cares  fucceisful  in  a  nation's  joy. 

But  O,  ye  fitters  of  the  facred  fpring, 
To  fweeteft  accents  tune  the  polifli'd  layy 


F    O    E 


S. 


! 


*The  unifa  of  pevfuafion  !  you  alone 

Can  paint  that  eai'y  eloquence  that  rtow'd 

In  Attic  ftreams.  troui  Halifax  that  flow'd, 

When  ail  Icrne  liften'd.  Albion  hoard, 

And  felt  a  parent's  joy  :  no  more,  flie  criod, 

No  more  fliall  Greece  the  man  or  Athens  boaft, 

Whofc  magic  periods  fmooth'd  the  liltening  wave 

Of  rapt  UyrTuS.    Rome  lhall  claim  no  more 

The  flowery  path  of  eloquence  alone 

To  grace  her  conful's  brow ;   for  never  fpoke 

Hirueria's  viceroy  words  of  fairer  phrafe, 

Forgetful  of  Alpheus'  battening  ftream, 

When  Arethuia  ftopp'J  her  golden  tide, 

And  call'd  her  nymphs,  and  cail'd  her  (hepherd 

fwains 

To  leave  their fweet  pipes  filent.  Silent  lay 
Your  pipes,  Hibernian  lliepherds.  Liffey  fmil'd, 
And  on  his  foft  hand  lean'd  his  dimply  theek. 
Attentive :  "  Once  fo  Wharton  fpoke,"  \v  cried, 
M  Unhappy  Wharton  !  whole  young  eloquence 
"  Yet  vibrates  on  mine  ear."   Whatever  powers, 
Whatever  genii  old,  of  vale  or  grove 
The  high  inhabitants,  all  throng'd  to  hear 
Sylvanus  came,  and  from  his  temples  gray 
His  oaken  chaplet  tlung,  left  hap'ly  leaf, 
Or  isterpoling  bough,  mould  meet  the  found, 

.And  bar  its  toft  approaches  to  his  ear. 
Pan  ceas'd  to  pipe — a  moment  ceas'd-«for  then 
Sufpicion  grew,  that  Phoebus  in  difguife 

..  His  ancient  reign  invaded  :  down  he  caft, 
In  petulance,  his  reed ;   but  feiz'd  it  foon, 
And  fill'd  the  woods  with  clangor.   [Vleafures  wild 
The  wanton  fatyrs  danc'd,  then  Aliening  ttood, 
And  gaz'd  with  uncouth  joy. 

But  hark  !  wild  riots  make  the  peaceful  plain, 
The  gathering  tumult  rears,  nnd  fiction  opes 
Her  blood-iequelhng  eye.  Tne  in^ired  twain 
Mourns  o'er  his  waited  labours,  and  implores 
His  country's  guardian.  Previous  to  his  wiih 
That  guardian's  care  he  found.  A'he  tumult  ceas'd, 
And  faction  clos'd  her  blopd-requeftine  eye. 
Be  theie.thy  honours,  Halifcix  '.  and  tliefe 
The  liberal  mute,  that  never  ilain'd  her  page 
With  flattery,  fhall  record  :  from  each  \o\v  view, 
Each  mean  connection  free,  her  praife  is  tape. 
O,  could  her  hand  in  future  times  obtain 
One  humble  garland  irvm  th'  Aonian  tree, 
With  joy  fhe'd  bind  it  on  thy  iavour'd  head, 
And  greet  thy  judging  ear  with  tweeter  ftrains  ! 

Meanwhile  purfue,  in  public  virtue's  path, 
The  palm  of  glory  :  only  there  will  bioom 
Pierian  laurels.  Should'lt  thou  deviate  thence, 
1'triK  the  bloltbms  of  fair-folding  fame  1 

,  Ev'n  this  poor  wreath,  that  now  aflecls  thy  brow, 
Would  loie  its. little  bloom,  the  mule  repine, 
And  blulh  that  Halifai  had  Itole  her  praife. 

s 

HYMN  TO  THE  RISING  SUN. 

FROM  the  red  wave  rifing  bright, 

Lift  on  high  thy  golden  head  ; 

O'er  the  mifty  mountain,  fpread 
Thy  fmiling  rays  of  orient  light ! 
See  the  golden  god  appear  ! 
Flies  the  fiend  of  darknefs  drear  ; 
Flies,  and  in  her  gloomy  train, 
Sable  grief,  and  care,  and  pain  t ' 


See  the  golden  god  advance  ! 

On  1  auras'  heights  his .  uui  It-rs  prance  : 

VV.th  him  hafte  the  vrrniu  hours, 

Breathing  fwcets.  and  uroopinj  flowem 

LH'.'. piling  inmoier  at  hisinie, 

Waves  her  locks  in  rofy  pride; 

And  Autumn  bland,  with  aipe<ft  kind, 

B;  ai  s  his  golden  (ht  at  behind 

O  halle,  and  fpreud  the  puiple  day 

O'er  all  the  wide  ethereal  way  ! 

Nature  mourns  at  thy  delay  : 

God  of  glory  hafte  away  ! 

From  tiie  red  wave  riling  bright, 
Lift  on  high  thy  golden  head 
O'er  the  milty  mountains,  fprcail 

Thy  fmiling  rays  of  orient  light! 

A  FAREWELL  HYMN 

TO  THE  VALLEV  OF  IRWAK* 

FAREWELL  the  fields  of  Irwan's  vale. 
My  infant  years  where  farcy  led  ; 

And  footh'd  me  with  the  weftern  gale, 

Her  wild  dreams  waving  round  rny  bca  J, 

While  the  blithe  blackbird  told  his  tale. 
Farewell  the  fields  of  luran's  vale  ! 

The  primrofe  on  the  valley's  fide. 

The  green  thyme  on  the  mountain's hrad, 
The  wanton  roie,  ihr  daily  pied, 

The  wilding's  tiloiibm  blutlhng  red; 
No  longer  I  their  fweets  .inhale. 
Fareweil  the  fields  of  Irwan's  vale  ! 

Haw  oft,  within  yon  vacant  fhade, 

Has  ev'niiii;  clos'd  my  carelefs  eye" '. 
How  oft,  along  thole  b.inKS,  I've  ttray'd, 

'     -\nd  wau:h'd  the  wave' that  wanucr'd  fey  1 
Full  ioii3  their  lots  fhall I  bewail. 
Farewell  the  fields  of  Irwan's  vale  I 

Yet  ftill,  within  yon  vacant  grove, 

To  mark  the  dole  of  parting  day  ; 

Along  yon  non  'ry  banks  to  rove, 

Aad  waicri  the  wave  that  winds  away  ; 

Fair  fiiicy  fare  iliall  never  fail, 

Though  far  from  theft,  and  Irwan's  vale  1 


VIRTUE  dwells  in  Arden'j  vale ; 
There  her  haliow'd  tempies  rife; 
There  her  incenfe  greets  the  ikies, 

Grateful  as  the  morning  gale  ! 

There,  with  humble  peace,  and  her, 
Lives  the  hiij-py  villager1, 
There  the  golden  fmiies  pf  morn 
Brighter  every  field  adorn; 
There  the  fun's  declining  ray 
Fairer  paints  the  parting  day  : 
There  the  woodlarjt  louder  lings, 
Zephyr  moves  on'fofter  wings, 
Groves  in  greener  honours  ril'«. 
Purer  azure  fpreads  thelkie*; 
There  the  fountains  clearer  flow, 
Flowers  in  brighter  beauty  blow ; 
For,  with  peace  and  virtue,  thei« 
Lives  the  happy  vilager. 


THE   WOR&'S   OF  LANG  HOP,  NE, 


Diftant  ftill  from  Arden's  Vale 

Are  the  woes  the  bad  bewail ; 

DiftauPfell  remorfe,  and  pain, 

And  frenzy  Trailing  o'er  her  chain ! 

Grief's  quick  pang,  defpair's  dead  groan, 

Are  in  Arden's  vale  unknown  : 

For  with  peace  and  virtue,  there 

Lives  the  happy  villager  '. 

In  his  hofpitable  cell, 

Love,  and  truth,  and  freedom  dwell; 

And,  with  afpedl  mild  and  free, 

The' graceful  nymph,  fimplicity. 

Hail,  ye  liberal  grates,  hail '. 

Natives  all  of  Arden's  vale  : 

For,  with  peace  and  virtue,  there 

Lives  the  happy  villager  ! 

TO  ALMENA. 

FROM    THE    BAWKS    OF    THE   IRWAN. 

WHERE  trembling  poplars  fhade  their  parent  vale, 

And  tune  to  melody  the  mountain  gale; 

Where  Irwan  murmurs  muticaliy  flow, 

And  breathing  breezes  through  his  ofiers  blow  ; 

Friend  of  my  heart,  behold  thy  poet  laid 

In  the  dear  filence  of  his  native  fhade  ! 

Ye  facred  vales,  where  oft  the  mufe,  unfeen, 

Led  my  light  fteps  along  the  moon-light  green ; 

Ye  fcenes,  where  peace  and  fancy  held  their  reign 

For  ever  lov'd,  and  oiire  enjoy'd  again  1 

Ah  !  where  is,  now,  that  namelefs  blifs  refin'd  ; 

That  tranquil  hour,  that  vacancy  of  mind? 

As  fweet  the  wild  rofe  bears  its  balmy  breaft  ; 

As  foon,  the  breeze  with  murmurs  fooths  to  reft  ; 

As  fmooth,  the  ftream  of  filver  Irwan  flows ; 

As  fair,  each  flower  along  his  border  blows  : 

Yet  dwells  not  here  that  namelefs  blifs  refin'd, 

That  tranquil  hour,  that  vacancy  of  mind. 

Is  it  that  knowledge  is  allied  to  woe  ; 

And  are  we  happy,  only  erer  we  know  ? 

Is  it  that  hope  withholds  her  golden  ray, 

That  fancy's  fairy  vifions  fade  away  ? 

Or  can'I,  diftant  far  from  all  that's  dear, 

3e  happy  only  when  Almena's  near  ? 

That  truth,  the  feelings  of  my  heart  difclofe  : 

Too  dear' the  friendship  for  the  friend's  repofe. 

Ihus-  mourn1  d  the  mufe,  when,  through  his  ofiers 

wild, 

The  hill-Dorn  Irwan  rais'd  his  head,  and  fmiPd  : 
"  Child  of  my  hopes,"  he  fondly  cried,  "  forbear  : 
"  Nor  let  thy  Irwan  witneis  thy  defpair. 
"  Has  peace  indeed  forfook  my  flow'ry  fliore  ? 
"  Shall  fame,   and  hope,  and  fancy,  charm  no 

"  njore  ? 

Though  /ame  and  Hope  in  kindred  air  depart, 
"  Yet  fancy  ftHKhould  hold  thee  to  her  heart:   . 
"  For,  at  thy  birth,  the  village  hind  has  ieen 
1  Her  light  wings' waving  o'er  the  fhadowy  green ; 
"  With  rofy  wreaths  flie  crown'd  the  new-born 

"  hours, 

"  And  rival  fairies  filPd  thy  bed  with  flowers  : 
'*  In  vain — if  grief  fhal!  wafte  thy  blooming  years. 
"  And  lifedi-tfblve-in-folitmle  and  tears ;"' 

t HE  AMIABLE  KING. 

The  free-born  mufe  her  tribute  rarely  brings, 
Or  burns  her  incenfc  to  the  power  of  kings  j 


But  virtue  ever  fhall  her  voice  command, 
Alike  a  fpade  or  fceptre  in  her  hand. 
Is  there  a  prince  untainted  with  a  throne, 
That  makes  the  intereft  of  mankind  his  own  ; 
Whofe  bounty  knows  no  bounds  of  time  or  place; 
Who  nobly  feels  for  all  the  human  race  : 
A  prince  that  adls  in  rtafon's  fteady  fphere, 
No  flave  to  paffion,  and  no  dupe  to  fear; 
A  breaft  where  mild  humanity  refides, 
Where  virtue  dictates,  and  where  wifdom  guides  ; 
A  mind  that,  ftretch'd  beyond  the  years  of  youth, 
Explores  the  fecret  fprings  of  taite  and  truth  : 
Thefe,  thefe  are  virtues  which  the  mufe  (hall  fing; 
And  plar.t,  for  thefe,  her  laurels  round  a  king  ', 
Britannia's  monarch!   this  fhall  be  thy  praife  ; 
For  this,  be  crown'd  with  never-fading  bays  '. 

HYMENEAL 
Qrz  the  Marriage  of  his  prefent  Majejly. 

AWAKE,  thou  everiaftmg  lyre  ! 

That  once  the  mighty  Pindar  fining, 
When  rapt  wjth  more  than  mortal  fire, 
The  gods  of  Greece  he  fung-: 

Awake ! 

Arreft  the  rapid  foot  of  time  again 
Wiih  liquid  notes  of  joy,  and  pleafure's  meltiln^ 
ftrain. 

Crown'd  with  eac^i  beauteous  flower  that  blow* 

On  Acidalia's  tuneful  fide  ; 

With  all  Ao-iia's  rofy  pride, 
Where  numerous  Aganippe  flows; 
From  Thefpian  groves  and  fountains  wild, 

Come,  thou  yellow-vetted  boy, 

Redolent  of  youth  and  joy, 

*  Fair  Urania's  favour'd  child  I 

George  to  thee  devotes  the  day  : 

lo  Hymen,  hafte  away  1 

Daughter  of  the  genial  main  ! 
Queen  of  youth  and  fofy  fmiles, 
Ojaeen  ot  dimple-dwelling  wiles ; 
Come  with  all  thy  Paphian  train  ! 
O,  give  the  fair  that  blooms  for  Britain's  throne, 
Thy  melting  charms  of  love,  thy  foul-enchanting 
zone  ? 

Daughter  of  the  genial  main  ! 

Bring  that  heart -difFolving  power, 
Which  once  in  Ida's  facred  bower 
The  foul  of  Jove  oppos'd-  in  vain  : 
The  fire  of  gods  thy  conquering  charms  confefs'd ; 
And,  vanquifli'd,  funk,  iunk  down  on  Juno's  fof- 
tering  breaft. 

She  comes,  the  confcious  fea  fubfides ; 

Old  ocean  curbs  his  tfiund'ring  tides  : 
'Smooth  the  filken  furface  lies, 

Where  Venus'  flowery  chariots  flies  : 

Paphian  airs  in  ambufh  fleep 

On  the  ftill  bofom  of  the  deep  ; 

Paphian  maids  around  her  move, 

Keen-ey'd  hope,  and  joy,  and,  love  : 
Their  rofy  breafts  a  thoufand  Cupids  lave  ; 
And  dip  their  wanton  wings,  and  beat  the  biiJE* 
om  wave. 

*  See  Catullus. 


P    O    EM    S. 


But  mark,  if  mor:  than  vulgar  mien, 

'  With  regal  grace  and  radiant  eye, 

A  form  in  youthful  majefty ! 
Britain,  hail  thy  favour'd  queen  ! 

For  her  the  confcious  fea  fubfides ; 

Old  ocean  curbs  his  thund'ring  tides  : 

O'er  the  glaffy  bofom'd  main 

Venus  leads  her  laughing  train  : 
The  Paphian  maids  move  graceful  by  her  fide  ; 
And  o'er  the  buxom  waves  the  rofy  Cupids  ride. 

Fly,  ye  fairy-footed  hours ! 

Fly,  with  aromatic  flowers ! 

Such  as  bath'd  in  orient  dews, 

Beauty's  living  glow  diffufe  ; 

Such  as  in  Idalia's  grove 

Breathe  the  fweets,  the  foul  of  love ! 
Come,  genial  god  of  chalte  delight, 

With  wreaths  of  feftive  rofes  crown'd, 
.And  torch  that  burns  with  radiance  bright, 

And  liberal  robe  that  fweeps  the  giound! 

Bring  thy  days  of  golden  joy, 

Pleasures  pure,  that  never  cloy ! 

Bring. to  Britain's  happy  pair, 

All  that's  kind,  and  good,  and  fair  ! 

George  to  thee  devotes  the  day  : 

lo,  Hymen,  hafte  away  ! 

Daughters  of  Jove  !  ye  virgins  fage, 

That  wait  on  Camus'  hoary  age; 

That  oft  his  winding  vales  along 

Have  fmooth'd  your  filver-woven  fong ; 

O  wake  once  more  thofe  lays  fublime, 

That  live  beyond  the  wrecks  of  time ! 

To  crown  your  Albion's  boafled  pair, 

The  never-fading  wreath  prepare  ; 
While  her  rocks  echo  to  this  grateful  ftrain, 
"  The  friends  of  freedom  and  of  Britain  reign !" 

SONG. 

'Tis  o'er,  the  pleafing  profpect's  o'er ! 
My  weary  heart  can  hope  no  more — 

Then  welcome,  wan  defpair  ! 
Approach  with  all  thy  dreadful  train; 
WiW  anguifh,  difcontent,  and  pain, 

And  thorny-pillow 'd  care ! 

Gay  hope,  and  eafe,  and  joy,  and  reft, 
All,  all  that  charms  the  peaceful  breafr, 

For  ever  I  refign. 
Let  pale  anxiety  inftead, 
That  has  not  where  to  lay  her  head, 

And  lafting  woe  be  mine. 

It  comes !  I  feel  the  painful  woe— 
My  eyes  for  Solyman  will  flow 

In  iilent  grief  again ; 

Who  wand'ring  o'er  fome  mountain  drear, 
Now  hap'ly  fheds  the  penfive  tear, 

And  calls  on  me  in  vain. 
Perhaps,  along  the  lonely  fhores, 
He  now  the  fea's  blue  breaft  explores, 

To  watch  the  diflant  fail ; 
Perhaps,  on  Sundah's  hills  forlorn, 
He  faints,  with  aching  toil  o'erborne  ; 

And  life's  laft  fpirits  fail. 
Ah,  no! — the  cruel  thought  forbear1 
4 vaunt,  thou  'fiend  of  fell  defpair, 

That  only  death  canfl  give  ' 


While  Heav'n  eternal  rules  above, 
Almena  yet  may  find  her  love, 
And  iiolyman  may  live  ! 

HYMN  TO  THE  ETERNAL  PROVIDENCE. 

LIFE  of  the  world,  Immortal  Mind  ! 
Father  of  all  the  human  kind  ! 
Whofe  boundkfseye  that  knows  no  reft, 
Intent  on  nature's  ample  bread  ; 
Explores  the  fpace  of  earth  and  fkies, 
And  fees  eternal  incenfe  rife  ! 
To  thee  my  humble  voice  I  raife ; 
Forgrve,  while  1  prefume  to  praife; 

Though  thou  this  tranfient  being  gave, 
That  Ihortly  finks  into  the  grave ; 
Yet  'twas  thy  goodnefs,  ftill  to  give 
A  being  that  can  think  and  live  ; 
In  all  thy  works  thy  wifdom  fee, 
And  ftretch  its  tow'ring  mind  to  thee  ! 
To  thee  my  humble  voice  I  raife ; 
Forgive,  while  I  prefume  to  praife. 

And  ftill  this  poor  contracted  fpan, 
This  life,  that  bears  the  name  of  man ; 
From  thee  derives  its  vital  ray, 
Eternal  Source  of  life  and  day  ! 
Thy  bounty  ftill  the  funfhine  pours, 
That  gilds  its  morn  and  evening  hours. 
To  thee  my  humble  voice  I  raife ; 
Forgive,  while  I  prefume  to  praife. 

Through  error's  maze,  through  folly's  night, 
The  lamp  of  reafon  lends  me  light. 
When  ftcrn  affliction  waves  her  rod, 
My  heart  confides  in  thee,  my  God  ! 
When  nature  (brinks,  opprefs'd  with  woes, 
Ev'n  then  fhe  finds  in  thee  repofe. 
To  thee  my  humble  voice  I  raife ; 
Forgive,  while  1  prefume  to  praife. 

Affliction  flies,  and  hope  returns  ; 

Her  lamp  with  bwghter  fplendour  burns; 

Gay  love  with  all  his  fmiling  train, 

And  peace  and  joy  are  here  again. 

Thefe,  thefe,  1  know,  'twas  thine  to  give: 

I  trufted  ;  and,  behold,  1  live  ! 

To  thte  my  humble  voice  I  raife  ; 

Forgive,  while  I  prefume  to  praife. 

O  may  I  ftill  thy  favour  prove  ! 
Still  grant  me  gratitude  and  love. 
Let  truth  and  virtue  guide  my  heart; 
Nor  peace,  nor  hope,  nor  joy  depart. 
But  yet,  whate'er  my  life  may  be, 
My  heart  fhall  ftill  repofe  on  thee ! 
To  thee  my  humble  voice  I  raife ; 
Forgive,  while  I  prefume  to  praife. 

TO  GEORGE  COLMAN,  ESQ^  . 

Prffxed  to  the   Correffondencc  of  Tbcodojiut  and  Ceit* 
Jlantia.  • 

To  live  beneath  the  golden  ftar  of  love, 
With  happier  fancy,  paffions  more  refin'd  ; 

Each  foftening  charm  of  tendcrnefs  to  prove, 
And  all  the  finer  movements  of  the  mind  — 

From  gifts  like  thefe,  fay,  what  the  boafted  gain 
Of  thole  who  esquifitely  feel  or  know  ? 


i4$  THE   WORKS   O 

1'hc  {kill  fr«n  plfafurc  tc  cr.traft  its  pain, 

Aud  open  all  the  avenues  of  woe. 
Yet  fliall  \ve,  Colman,  at  thtfe  gifts  repine  ? 

Implore  cold  apathy  to  ftecl  the  htait? 
Would  you  that  ieniibility  reiigri, 

And  with  thoi'e  powers  of  genius  would  you 
part  ? 

Ah  no,  my  friend  !  nor  deem  the  verfe  divine, 
That  weakncfs  wrote  in  Petrarch's  gentle  Itrain ! 

When  once  he  own'd  at  love's  unfxv'ring  Ihrine, 
"  A  thoufand  pleasures  were  not  worth  one 
"  pain." 

The  dreams  of  fancy  fpoth  the  penfive  heart ; 

For  fancy's  urn  can  new  deiights  difpenfe  : 
The  powers  of  genius  purer  joys  impart ; 

For  genius  brightens  all  the  fprings  of  fcnfc. 
O  charm  of  every  mufe-ennobled  mind, 

Far,  far  above  the  grovelling  crowd  to  rife  ! — 
Leave  the  low  train  of  tiifling  cares  behind, 
'   Affert  its  birthright,  arid  tllcc!  the  flcies ! 
O  right  divine,  the  pride  of  power  to  fcorn; 

On  fortune's  little  vanity  look  down  ! 
With  nobler  gifts,  to  fairer  honours  born, 
5    Than  fear,  or  folly,  fancies  in  a  crown! 

As  far  each  boon  that  nature's  hand  bellows, 

The  worthlefs  glare  of  fortune's  train  exceeds, 
As  yon  fair  orb,  whofe  beam  eternal  glows, 

Outfhincs  the  tranfient  meteor  that  it  feeds. 
TO  nature,  Colraan,  let  thy  incenfe  rife, 

For,, much  indebted,  much  haft  thou  to  pay; 
For  tafte  refin  d,  for  wit  correctly  wife, 

_-ind  keen  discernment's  foul-pervading  ray. 

To  catch  the  manners  from  the  variousvface, 
To  pa:nt  the  nice  diveifuies  of  mind, 

The  living -lines  of  chaia&cr  to  trace, 

She  gave  thee  powers,  and  fhe  the  tafk  afllgn'd 

Seizfe,  fdze  the  pen  !  the  facred  hour  depatts! 

•  v  Nor    led  by  kmdnefs    longer  lend  thine  ear: 

The  ter.V.er  tulc  of  two  ingenious  hearts 
Would  rob  thee  of  a  moment  and  a  tear. 
Ltndon,  AW.  10.  1764. 

WRITTEN  IN  A  COTTAGE-GARDEN, 

AT  A  VILLAGE  IN  fcORRAlN. 

Occafioncd  by  a   Tradition  concerning  a   Tree  of  P.cfs 
tnary, 

"  Arbuftum  loquitur." 
O  thou,  whom  love  and  fancy  lead 

To  wander  near  this  woodland  hill, 

If  ever  muficfmooth'd  thy  quill, 
Or  pity  wak'd  thy  gentle  reed, 

Repofe  beneath  my  humble  tree, 

If  thou  lov'ft  fimplicity,. 
Stranger,  if  thy  lot  has  laid 

In  toilfome  fcenes  of  bufy  life, 

Full  forely  may'ft  thou  rue  the  ftrife 
Of  weary  paffions  ill  repaid. 

Ii\  a  garden  live  with  me, 

If  thou  lov'ft  fimplicity. 

Flowers  have  fpning  ;or  many  a  year 
O'er  the  village  maiden's  grave, 
That,  one  memorial-fprig  to  fave, 

S?rc  it  from  a  Mar's  bier ; 


F   LANGHORNE. 

And  homeward  walking,  •wept  o'er  me* 
The  true  tears  of  fimplicity, 

"oon,  her  cottage  window  near 
With  care  my  ilendtr  lltm  (he  plac'd ; 
And  fondly  thus  her  grief  embrac'd, 

'  erifli'd  lad  remembrance  dear: 
For  love  fincete,  and  inciidihip  free 
Are  children  of  fimplicity. 

When  pail  was  many  a  painful  day 

nlovv-padng  o'er  the  village  green,. 

In  white  were  all  its  maidens  fecn, 
And  bore  my  guardian  friend  away. 

Ah  death  1  what  facrifice  to  thee, 

The  ruins  of  Cmplicity. 

One  generous  Iwain  her  heart  approv'd, 

A  youth  whofe  fond  and  faithful  breaft 
With  many  an  artlefs  figh  confcfVd, 

[n  nature's  language,  .that  he  lov'd. 
But  ftranger,  'tis  no  tale  to  thee, 
Unlefs  thou  lov'ft  funplicity-. 

Ke  died — and  foon  her  lip  was  cold, 

And  foon  her  roly  check  was  pale ; 

The  vihage  wept  to  hear  the  tale, 
When  for  both  the  flow  bell  tolt'd        • 

Beneath  yon  flowery  turf  they  lie. 

The  lovers  of  fimplicity. 

Yet  one  boon  have  I  to  crave ; 

Stranger  if  thy  pity  bleed, 

Wilt  thou  do  one  tender  deed, 
And  ftrew  my  pak  flowers  o'er  their  grave  ? 

So  lightly  lie  the  turf  on  thee,, 

Eecaufe  thou  lov'ft  Cmplicity  ! 

THE  PAS'l  ORA-  PART  OF 

MILTON'S  liPITAPHIUM  DAMONIS. 

O  FOR  the  fof.  lays  cf  Himeria's  maids  ! 
The  (trains  that  died  in  Artthula's  fliades; 
Tun'd  to  wild  Xorrow  pn  her  mournful  more, 
When  JJaphnis,  Hylas,  tion  breatli'd  no  more  ! 
Thame's  vocal  wave  ftiaii  every  note  prolong, 
And  all  his  villas  karn  the  Doric  fong. 

How   Thyrfis  mourn'd  his  long-liv'd  Damoa 

dead ; 

What  figlis  he  utter'd  ,  and  what  tears  he  flied — 
Ye  dim  retreats,  ye  wandering  fountains  knovr  ; 
\  e  defert  wilds  bore  witnefs  to  his  woe : 
Where  oft  in  grief  he  paft  the  tedious  day, 
Or  lonely  languid  "cl  the  dull  night  away. 

Twice  had  the  fields  their  blooming  honours 

bore; 

And  Autumn  twice  refign'd  his  golden  ftore, 
Unconfcious  of  his  lofs,  while  'I  hyrfis  ftaid 
'i  o  woo  the  fweet  mufe  in  the  Tufcan  (hade, 
urown'd  with  her  favour,  when  he  fought  agaijji 
Bis  flock  forfaken,  and  his  native  plain; 
When  to  his  old  elm's  wonted  fhade  return'd— 
Then — then,    he  mifs'd  his  parted  friend— and 
mourn'd. 

And  go,  he  cry'd,  my  tender  lambs  adieu ! 

Your  wretched  mailer  has  no  time  for  you. 

Yet  are  there  pow'rs  divine  in  earth  or  iky  ? 
Gods  can  they  be  who  dtftm'd  thee  io  die  ? 
And  {halt  thou  mix  with  fliades  of  vulga 
Loft  thy, .fair  hoaours,  end  forgot  thy 


9    O    E    M    SL 


, .the  god  whofe  golden  wand  reft  rains 
The  pale-ey'd  ;vuj..<.:  oi  the  gloomy  plains, 
r    Of  Damon's  fate  ihall  thus  ivpsrdkli  be, 
Or  luffcr  vulgar  (hacks  to  herd  with  thee. 

Then  go,  he  cry'd,  .^c. 
Yet  while  one  flrain  my  trembling  tongue  may 

tr>". 

Not  unlamented,  Ihepherd,  flu  It  thou  die. 
Long  iii  thefe  fields  thy  fame  fhall  flouriih  fair, 
And  Daphnis  only  greater  honours  ihare  ; 
To  Daphnis  cniy  purer  vows  be  paid, 
While  Pun  or  Pales  loves  the  village  (hade. 
If  truth  or  fcience  may  iurvive  the  grave, 
Or,  what  is  more,  a  poet's  friendfhip  fave. 

Then  go,  &c. 
Thefe,  thefe  arc  thine :    For  me  what  hopes 

remain  ? 

Save  of  long  forrow,  and  of  anguifh  vain. 
For  who,  Hill  faithful  to  my  fide,  fhali  go,  [fnow? 
Like    thee,   through  regions   clad   with   chilling 
Like  thee,  the  rage  of  fiery  fummers  bear, 
When  fades  the  wan  flower  in  the  burning  air  ? 
The  lurking  dangers  of  the  chafe  effay, 
Or  footh  with  fong  and  various  tale  the  day  ? 

Then  go,  &c. 

To  whom  fhall  I  my  hopes  and  fears  impart  ? 
Or  truft  the  cares  and  follies  of  my  heart  ? 
Whofe  gentle  cousfels  put  thofe  cares  to  flight  ? 
Whofe  cheerful  converle  cheat  the  tedious  night  ? 
The  focial  hearth  when  autumn's  treafures  ftcre, 
Chill  blow  the  winds  without,  and  through  the 

bleak  elm  roar. 
Then  go,  &c. 

When  the  fierce  funs  of  fummer  noons  invade, 
And  Pan  repofes  in  the  green-wood  fhade, 
The  fhcpherds  hide,  the  nymphs  plunge  down  the 
deep,  [fleep. 

And  waves  the  hedge-row  o'er  the  ploughman's 
Ah  !  who  fhail  charm  with  fuch  addrefs  refin'd, 
Such  Attic  wit,  and  elegance  of  mind  ? 

Then  go,  &c. 

Alas  !  now  lonely  round  my  fields  I  £ray, 
And  lonely  feck  the  pafhire's  wonted  way. 
Qr  in  fome  dim  vale's  mournful  ihade  repofe — 
There  penfive  wait  the  weary  day's  flow  clofe, 
"While  fhowers  defccnd,  the  gloomy  tempeft  raves, 
And  o'er  my  head  the  ilruggling  twilight  waves. 

Then  go,  &c. 
Where  once  fair  harveft  cloth'd  my  cultur'J 

plain, 

Now  weeds  obfcene  and  vexing  brambles  reign ; 
The  groves  of  myrtle  and  the  clafteriMg  vine 
"Delight  no  more,  for  joy  no  mere  is  mine. 
My  flocks  no  longer  find  a  mafter's  care, 
£v'a  piteous  as  they  gaze  with  looks  of  dumb 

defpair. 
Then  go,  &c. 

Thy  hazel,  Tyt'rus,  has  no  charms  for  me  ; 
Nor  yet  thy  wild  afh,  lov'd  Alphelibee. 
No  more  fhall  fancy  weave  her  rural  dream, 
By  ./Egon's  willow,  or  Amynta's  ftream, 
The  trembling  leaves,  the  fountain's  coolferene, 
The  m.urmuring  zephyr,  and  the  moffy  green — 
Thefe  fmile  unleen,  and  thole  unheeded  phiy, 
J  cut  my  fhrubs,  and  carelefs  walk'd  away. 
Then  go,  .&(.-, 


Mopfus;  who  knows  \vhat  fates  the  ftars  dif- 

pcnfe, 

Arid  folves  the  grove's  wild  warblings  into  fenfe, 
i  his  Mopfus  tnark'd — what  thus  thy  fpleen  can 

move  ? 

Some  bileful  planet,  or  fome  hopelefs  lore  ? 
The  liar  of  Saturn  oft  annoys  the  iv-ain, 
And  in  the  dull  cold  brcaft  long  holds  hib  leaden 

reign. 
Then  go,  &c. 

The  nymphs  too,  piteous  of  their  fhcphcrd's 

woe, 

Came  the  fad  caufe  felicitous  to  know. 
Is  this  the  port  of  jocund  youth,  they  cry, 
That  look  difgufted,  and  that  downcaft  eye  ? 
Gay  fmiles  and  love  on  that  fort  fenfon  wait ; 
*  He's  twice  a  wietch  whom  beauty  wounds  teo 

late. 

Then  go,  &c. 

One  gentle  tear  the  Britifh  ChlorL-  gave, 
Chloris  the  grace  of  Maldon's  purple  wave- 
In  vain — my  grief  no  foothing  words  difarm, 
Nor  future  hopes,  nor  prduu  good  can  charm. 
Then  go,  &c. 

The  happier  flocks  one  focial  fpirit  moves, 
The  fame  their  fpprts,  their  paftures  and  their  loves; 
Their  hearts  to  no  peculiar  objeifl  tend, 
'None  knows  a  favourite,  or  feleds  a  friend. 
So  heard  the  various  natives  of  the  main, 
And  Proteus  drives  in  crowds  his  fcaly  train. 
The  feathcr'd  tribes  too  find  an  eafier  fate ; 
The  meaneft  fparrow  flill  enjoys  his  mate  ; 
And  when  by  chance  or  wearing  age  fhe  dies, 
The  tranfieiu  lofs  a  fecond  choice  1'upplies. 

Man,  haplefs  man,  for  ever  doom'd  to  knew 
The  dire  vexations  that  from  diicord  flpw, 
in  all  the  countlefs  numbers  of  his  kind, 
Can  fcarcely  meet  with  one  congenial  mind. 
If  haply  found,  death  wings  the  fatal  dart, 
The  tender  union  breaks,  and  breaks  his  heart. 
Then  go,  &c. 

Ah  me !  what  error  tempted  me  to  go 
O'er  foreign  mountains,  and  through  Alpine  fnow? 
Too  great  the  price  to  mark  in  Tyber's  gloom 
The  mournful  image  of  departed  Rome  ! 
Nay,  yet  immortal,  could  fhe  boaft  again 
'I  he  glories  of  her  uuiverfal  reign. 
And  all  that  Maro  left  his  fields  to  fee, 
Too  great  die  purchafe  to  abandon  thee  ! 
To  leave  thee  in  a  land  no  longer  feen  !— 
Bid  mountains  rile,  and  oceans  roll  between  !-— 
All !  not  embrace  thee ! — not  to  fee  thee  die ! 
Meet  thy  lait  looks,  or  clofe  thy  languid  eye ! 
Not  one  fond  farewell  with  thy  fhade  to  fend, 
Nor  bid  thee  think  of  thy  lurviving  friend  J 
Then  go,  &c. 

Ye  Tufcan  fhepherds,  pardon  me  this  tear ! 
Dear  to  the  mufe,  to  me  for  ever  dear  ! 

*  .Mlllonfecms  to  lave  farroiuid  this  fcntlnunt  frtr* 
Guarini. 

Che  fe  t'aflale  a  la  canuta  etate 

Arnorofo  talento, 

Havrai  doppio  tormcnto, 

E  di  quel,  die  potendo  non  volefti, 

E  di  quel,  chc  volendo  no  jxltrai. 


THE   WORKS   OF   JLANOHORNE. 


'I'he  yo^th  I  mourn  a  Tufran  title  bore.-*- 
See  *  Lydian  Lucca  for  her  fon  deplore! 

O  days  of  ecftafy  !  wlien  rapt  1  lay 
Where  Arno  wanders  down  his  flow'ry  way,— 
Pluck'd  the  pale  violet,  prefs'd  the  velvet  mead, 
Or  bade  the  myrtle's  balmy  fragrance  bleed  i— 
Delighted,  heard  amid  the  rural  throng' 
Menalcas  ftrive  with  Lycidas  in  long.- 

'  Oft  would  my  voice  the  mimic  (train  effay, 
Nor  hapiy  all  unheeded  was  my  lay  : 
For,  fliepherds,  yet  I  boaft  your  g;  nc-rous  mec4, 
The  bfier  baiket,  and  compacted  reed, 
Francino  crown'd  me  with  a  poet's  fame, 
And  Dati  f  taught  his  beechen  groves  my  name. 

PRECEPTS  OF  C0NJUGAL  HAPPINESS. 

ADDRESSED  TO  A  LADY  ON  HER  MARRIAGE. 
Firjl  fullifccd  in  1767. 

FRIEND,  fifter,  partner  of  that  gentle  heart, 
"Where  my  foul  lives,  and  holds- her  deareft  part ; 
While  love's  foft  raptures  thefe  gay  hours  employ, 
And  time  puts  on  the  yellow  robe  of  joy, 
Will  you,  Maria,  mark  with  patient  ear, 
The  moral  mufe,  nor  deem  her  long  fevcrc  ? 
•Through   the  long  courfe  of  life's  unclouded 

day, 

Where  fweet  contentment  fmiles  on  virtue's  way; 
Where  fancy  opes  her  ever-varying  views, 
And  hope  ftrews  flowers,  and  leads  you  as  fhe 

ftrews ; 

May  each  fair  pleafure  court  thy  favour'd  breaft, 
By  truth  protected,  and  by  love  carefs'd  ! 

So  friendship  vows,  nor  fhall  her  vows  be  vain; 
For  every  pleafure  comes  in  virtue's  train  ; 
Each  charm  that  tender  fympathies  impart, 
The  glow  of  foul,  the  tranfpbrts  of  the  heart, 
Sweet  meanings  that  in  filent  truth  convey 
Mind  into  mind,  and  fleal  the  foul  away, 
Thefe  gifts,  O  virtue,  thefe-are  all  thy  own  ; 
Loft  to  the  vicious,  to  the  vain  unknown  ! 

Yet  blcfl  with  thefe,  and  happier  charms  than 

thefe,      - 

By  nature  form'd,  by  genius  taught  to  ple:\fc, 
F.v'ri'you,  to  prove 'that  m'ortal  gifts  are  vain, 
Muft  yield  your  human  facrifice  to  pain ; 
The  wizard  care  (hall  dim  thbfe  brilliant  eyes, 
Smite  the  fair  urns  and  bid  the  waters  rife.  - 

With  mind  unbroke'  that  darker  hour  car.  bear, 
Nor  once  his  captive,  drag  the  chains  of  care, 
Hope's  ladiant  funfhine  'o'er  the  fcene  to  pour, 
Not  future  joys  in  prefent  ills  devour, 
Thefe  arts  your  philofophic  friend  may  fhow, 
Too  well  experienc'd  in  the  fchool  of  woe.  ' 

When  finks  the  heart,  by  transient  grief  oppreft, 
Seek  not  reflection,  fbr  it  wounds  the  bread,    " 

*   Tie   Tu/cans   iverc  a  branch  cf  the  Ptlnfgi  tlat 
ir.igratfd  ir.ia  Europe  r.ct  many  ages  after  the-  difptr- 

j'.on.  Seme  of  ibim  marcbtd  by  land  as  far  as  Lydia, 
**d  front  tbtfict  detached  a' colony  undir  the  ctmdufl  of 
'T'.  rfnius  to  Italy. 

f   When  Miiicn  -wot  in  Italy,  Carlo  Dati  ivas  fro- 

Jtjor  of  firiltfopby  at  Florence. — A  liberal  friend  to 
men  of  rent  us  and  learning, ,  as  ivcll  foreigners  as  bis 
I'^n  counirynen.—He  ii-rsie  a  panegyric  and  feme 
fotxis  en  Lciu'n  XIV.  lefales  ttbcr  {racis. 


While  memory  turns,  to  happier  objects  blind, 
Though  once  the  friend,  the  traitor  of  the  mind, 
Pall  Icenes  ot  pain  is  ftudious  to  explore, 
Forgets  its  joys,  and  thinks  its  fuff 'rings  o'er. 

To  life's  horizon  forward  turn  your  eye, 
Pafs  the  dim  cloud,  and   view   the   height'ning 

fky: 

On  hope's  kind  wing  more  genial  climes  furvey, 
Let  fancy  join,  but  re-ifon  guide  your  way, 
For  fancy,  ftill  to  tender  woes  inclin'd, 
May  footh  the  heari,  but  mifdirecls  the  mind. 

The  fource  of  half  our  anguiih,  half  our  tears, 
Is  the  wrong  conduct  of  our  hopes  and  fears; 
Like  ill-tnun'd  children,  ftill  their  treatment  fuch, 
Reftrain'd  too  rafhly,  or  indulg'd  too  much. 
Hence  hope,  projecting  more  than  life  can  give, 
Would  live  with  angels,  or  refufe  to  live; 
Hence  fpleen-ey'd  lear,  o'era&ing  caution's  part, 
Betrays  thofe  fuccours  reafon  lends  the  heart. 

Yet  thefe,  fubmitted  to  fair  truth's  controul, 
Thefe  tyrants  are  the  fervams  of  the  foul : 
Through  vales  of  peace  the  dove-like  hope  fliall 

ftray, 

And  bear  at  eve  her  olive  branch  away. 
In  ev'ry  fcene  fome  diftant  charm  deicry, 
And  hold  it  forward  to  the  bright'ning  eye  ; 
While  watchful  fear,  if  fortitude  maintain 
Her  trembling 'flops,  fhall  ward  the  diftant  pain. 

Should  erring  nature  cafual  faults  difclofe, 
Wound  not  the  breaft-  that  harbours  your  repofe ;  ' 
For  ev'ry  grief  that  breaft  from  you  Ihall  prove, 
Is  one  link  broken  in  the  chain  of  iove. 
Soon,  with  their  objects,  other  woes  are  pair, 
But  pains  from  thofe  we  love  are  pains  that  laft. 
Though  faults  or  follies  from  reproach  may  fly, 
Yet  in  its  fhade  the  tender  paffions  die. 

Love,  like  the  flower  that  courts  the  fun's  kind 

ray, 

Will  flourifh  only  in  the  fmiles  of  day ; 
Diftruft's  cold  air  the  generous  plant  annoys, 
And  one  chill  blight  of  dire  contempt  deftroys. 
O  ftiun,  my  friend,  avoid  that  dangerous  coaft, 
Where  peace  expires,  and  fair  affedlicn's  loit ; 
By  wit,  'by  grief,  by  anger  urg'd,  forbear 
The  fpeech  contemptuous,  and  the  fcornful  air. 

If  heart-felt  quiet,  thoughts  unmix'd  with  pain, 
While  peace  weaves  flow'rs  to  Hymen's  golden 

chain, 

If  tranquil  days,  if  hours  of  fmiling  eafe, 
The  fenfe  of  pleafure,  and  the  pow'rs  to  pleafc, 
If  charms  like  thefe  deferve  your  ferious  care, 
Of  one  dark  foe,  one  dangerous  foe  beware  ! 
Like  Hecla's  mountain,  while  his  heart's  in  flame, 
His  afpecft's  cold,  and  jealoufy  his  name. 
His  hideous  birth  his  wild  diibrders  prove, 
Begot  ?;y  hatred  on  defpairing  love  ! 
Her  throes  in  rage  the  frantic  mother  bore, 
And  the  fell  fire  with  angry  curfes  tore 
His  fable  hair — Diftruft  beholding  fhiil'd, 
And  lov'd  her  image  in  her  future  child. 
With  cruel  care,  induftrious  to  impart 
Each  painful  fenfe,  each  foul-tormenting  art, 
To  doubt's  dim  fhrine  her  haplefs  charge  fhe  led, 
Where  never  fleep  reliev'd  the  burning  head, 
Where  never  grateful  fancy  footh'd  fufpenfe, 
Or  the  dear  charms  of  eafy  confidence. 
Hence  fears  eternal,  ever-reftlefs  care, 
And  all  the  dire  affociates  gf  defu.air. 


POEMS. 


Hence  all  the  woes  he  found  that  peace  deftroy, 
And  dafh  with  pain  the  fparkling  ftream  of  joy. 

When  love's  warm  breait,  from  rapture's  trem 
bling  height, 

Falls  to  the  temp'rate  meafures  of  delight ; 
When  calm  delight  to  eafy  friendship  turns, 
Grieve  not  that  Hymen's  torch  more  gently  burns. 
Unerring  nature,  in  each  purpofe  kind, 
Forbids  long  tranfports  to  ufurp  the  mind; 
For,  ofr  dillbiv'd  in  joy's  oppreflive  ray, 
Soon  would  the  finer  faculties  decay. 

True  tender  love  one  even  tenor  keeps ; 
'Tis  reafon's  flame,  and  burns  when  paffion  deeps. 

The  charm  connubial,  like  a  dream  that  glides 
Through  life's  fair  vale,  with  no  unequal  tides, 
With  many  a  plant  along  its  genial  tide,* 
With  many  a  flower  that  blows  in  beauteous  pride, 
With  many  a '(hade,  where  peace  in  rapturous  reft 
Holds  fweet  affiance  to  her  ieaiiefs  bread, 
Pure  in  its  iburce,  and  temp'rate  in  its  way, 
Still  flows  the  fame,  nor  finds  its  urn  decay. 

O  blifs  beyond  what  lonely  life  can  know, 
The  foul-felt  fympathy  of  joy  and  woe  I 
The  magic  charm  which  makes  e'en  forrow  dear, 
And  turns  to  pleafure  the  partaken  tear  ! 

Long,  beauteous  friend,  to  you  may   Heaven 

impart 

The  foft  endearments  of  the  focial  heart  I 
Long  to  your  lot  may  ev'ry  blefling  flow, 
That  fenfe,  or  tafte,  or  virtue  can  beftow  ! 
And  O,  forgive  the  zeal  your  peace,  infpires, 
pr  teach  that  prudence  which  itfelf  admires. 

VERSES  IN  MEMORY  OF  A  LADY  *. 

WRITTEN  AT  SANDGATE  CASTLE,  1768. 

"  Nec  tamen  Ingenio,  quantum  fervire  dolori.'' 

LET  others  boaft  the  falfe  and  faithlefs  pride, 
No  nuptial  charm  to  know,  and  known,  to  hide, 
With  vain  difguife  from  nature's  dictates  part, 
For  the  poor  triumph  of  a  vacant  heart ; 
My  verfe,  the  god  of  tender  vows  infpires, 
Dwells  on  my  foul,  and  wakens  all  her  fires. 

Dear  filent  partner  of  thofe  happier  hours, 
That  pafs'd   in   Hackthorn's  vales,  in  Blagdon's 

bowers ! 

If  yet  thy  gentle  fpirit  wanders  here, 
Borne  by  its  virtues  to  no  nobler  fphere; 
If  yet  that  pity  which,  of  life  pofleft, 
Fill'd  thy  fair  eye,   and  lightcn'd    through    thy 

breaft ; 

If  yet  that  tender  thought,  that  generous  care, 
The  gloomy  power  of  endleis  night  may  fpare  ; 
Oh  !  while  my  foul  for  thee,  for  thee  complains, 
Catch  her  warm  fighs,  and  kifs  her  bleeding  ftrains. 

Wild,  wretched  wifli !  can  pray'r,  with  feeble 

breath, 

Pierce  the  pale  ear,  th«  ftatued  ear  of  death  ? 
Let  patience  pray,  let  hope  afpire  to  pray'r  ! 
And  leave  me  the  ftrong  language  of  defpair  I 

Hence,  ye  vain  painters  of  ingenious  woe, 
Ye  Lyttletons,  ye  fliining  Petrarchs,  go  ! 
I  hate  the  languor  of  your  lenient  ftrain, 
Your  flow'ry  grief,  your  impotence  of  pain. 

*  Wife  of  the  author.     She  was  daughter  to 
Mr.  Cracroft  of  Lincolnfiire. 


149 


Oh  1  had  ye  known,  what  I  have  known,  to  prove 
The  fearching  flame,  the  agonies  of  love  ! 
Oh  !  had  ye  known  how  fouls  to  fouls  impart 
Their  fire,  or  mix'd  the  life-drops  01  the  heart ! 
Not  like  the  ftream  that  down  the  mountain's  fide 
Tunefully  mourn,  and  fparkle  as  they  glide; 
Not  like  the  breeze,  that  fighs  at  evening  hour 
On  the  foft  bofom  oi  fome  folding  flower  ; 
Your  ftronger  grief,  in  ftronger  accents  borne, 
Had  footh'd  the  breaft  with  burning  anguifli  torn. 

The  voice  of  leas,  the  winds  that  rouie  the  deep, 
Far-founding  floods  that  tear  the  mountains ftecpj 
Each  wild  and  melancholy  blaft  that  raves 
Round  thefe  dim  towers,  and  imites  the  beating 

waves— 
This  fooths  my  foul — 'tis  nature's  mournful  breath, 
'Tis  nature  ftruggling  in  the  arms  of  death  !— 

See  the  laft  aid  of  her  expiring  ftate, 
See  love,  ev'n  love,  has  lent  his  darts  to  fate  *  '. 
Oh  1  when  beneath  his  golden  lhafts  I  bled, 
And  vainly  bound  his  trophies  on  my  head; 
When,  crown'd  with  flowers,  he  led  the  rofy  day, 
Liv'd  to  my  eye,  ai.d  drew  my  foul  away— 
Could  fear,  could  fancy  at  that  tender  hour, 
See  the  dim  grave  demand  the  nuptial  flower? 

There,  there  his  wreathsdejecled  Hymen  ftrew'dj 
And-mourn'd  their  bloom  unfaded  at  he  view'd. 
There  each  fair  hope,  each  tendernefs  of  life, 
Each  namelefs  charm  of  foft  obliging  ftrife, 
Delight,  love,  fancy,  pleafure,  genius,  fled, 
And  the  beft  paflions  of  my  foul  lie  dead  ; 
All,  all  is  there  in  cold  oblivion  laid, 
But  pale  remembrance  bending  o'er  a  made. 

O  come  !  ye  fofter  forrows  to  my  breaft '. 
Ye  lenient  figfos,  that,  (lumber  into  reft  1 
Come,  toothing  dreams,  your  friendly  pinions  wave, 
We'll  bear  the  frefli  rofe  to  yon  honour'd  grave, 
For  once  this  pain,  this  frantic  pain  forego, 
And  feel  at  leaft  the  luxury  of  woe  ! 

Ye  holy  fuflf'rer's  that  in  filence  wait 
The  laft  fad  refuge  of  relieving  fate  ! 
That  reft  at  eve  beneath  the  cyprefs'  gloom, 
And  fleep  familiar  on  your  future  tomb  ; 
With  you  I'll  walte  the  flow  departing  day, 
And  wear  with  you,  th*  uncolour'd  hours  away. 

Oh  lead  me  to  your  cells,  your  lonely  ailes, 
Where  refignation  folds  her  arms,  and  fmiles  ; 
Where  holy  faith  unwearied  vigils  keeps, 
And  guards  the  urn  where  fair  Conftantiaffleeps, 
There,  let  me  there  in  fweet  oblivion  lie, 
And  calmly  feel  the  tutor'd  paflions  die. 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  VEIL. 
WARM  from  this  heart  while  flows  the  faithful 
The  meaneft  friend  of  beauty  (hall  be  mine,    [linci 
What  love,  or  fame,  or  fortune  could  beftow, 
The  charm  of  praife,  the  cafe  of  life  I  owe 
To  beauty  prefent,  or  to  beauty  fled, 
To  Hertford,  living,  or  Caernervon  dead, 
To  Tweedale's  tafte,  to  Edgecumbe's  fenfe  ferenr, 
And,  envy  fpare  tlm  boaft,  to  Britain's  queen. 
Kind  to  the  lay  that  all  unlabour'd  flow'd, 
Whatfancy  caught,  where  nature's  pencilglow'df ; 

*  Tlie  lady  died  in  child-bed. 
f  See  Spefialor,  No.  164. 
j  The  Fables  of  Flora. 


THE   WORKS   OF   LANGHOR.NE. 


She  faw  the  path  to  new,  though  humble  fame, 
Gave  me  her  praife,  and  left  me  fools  to  blame. 

Scrongin  their  weaknefs  are  each  woman'scharms, 
Dread  that  endears,  and  foftnefs  that  difarms  : 
The  timorous  eye  retiring  from  applaufe, 
And  the  mild  air  that  fearfully  withdraws, 
Marks  of  our  power  thefe  humble  graces  prove, 
And,  dafli'd  with  pride,  we  deeper  drink  of  love. 

Chief  of  thofe  charms  that  hold  the  heart  in  thrall, 
At  thy  fair  ftrine,  O  modefty,  we  fall. 
Not  Cynthia  rifing  o'er  the  wat'ry  way, 
When  on  the  dim  wave  falls  her  friendly  ray  ; 
Not  the  pure  ether  01  Eolian  fkies, 
That  drinks  the  day's  firft  glories  as  they  rife, 
Not  all  the  tints  from  evening-clcHids  that  break, 
$urn  in  the  beauties  of  the  virgin's  cheek ; 
When  o'er  that  cheek,  undifciplined  by  art, 
The  fweet  fuffuiion  rallies  from  the  heart. 

iTet  the  loft  blufh,  untutor'd  to  controul, 
The  glow  that  fpeaks  the  fufceptible  foul, 
Led  by  nice  honour  and  by  decent  pride, 
The  voice  of  ancient  virtue  taught  to  hide ; 
Taught  beauty's  bloom  the  fearching  eye  to  fhun, 
As  early  flowers  blow  fearful  of  the  fun. 
-  Far  as  the  long  records  of  time  we  trace  *, 
Still  flowed  the  veil  o'er  modefty's  fair  face  : 
The  guard  of  beauty,  in  whofe  friendly  (hade, 
Safe  from  each  eye  the  fcatur'd  foul  is  laid,— 
The  penfive  thought  that  paler  looks  betray. 
The  tender  grief  that  fteals  in  tears  away, 
The  hopelefs  wi(h  that  prompts  the  frequent  figh, 
Uleeds  in  the  blufh,  or  melts  upon  the  eye. 

The  man  of  faith  through  Gerar  doora'd  to  ftray, 
A  nation  waiting  his  eventful  way, 
His  fortune's  fair  companion  at  his  fide, 
The  world  his  promiie,  Providence  his  guide, 
Once,  more  than  virtue  dar'd  to  value  life, 
And  called  a  fifter  whom  he  ewn'd  a  wife. 
Miftaken  father  of  the  fiithful  race, 
Thy  fears  alone  could  purchafe  thy  difgrace, 
<"  Go,"  to  the  fair,  when  confcious  of  the  tale, 
Smid  Gerar's  prince,  "  thy  hufband  is  thy  veil  |." 

O  ancient  faith  !  O  virtue  mourn'd  in  vain  1 
When  Hymen's  altar  never  held  a  Itain  ; 
Wb«nhis  pure'torch  Ihed  undiminifh'd  rays, 
And  fires  unholy  died  beneath  the  blaze  ! 

For  faith  like  this  fair  Greece  was  early  known, 
And  claim'd  the  veil's  firft  honours  as  her  own. 

JEre  half  her  fons,  o'er  Ada's  trembling  ceaft, 
Arm'd  to  revenge  one  woman's  virtue  loft  ; 
Ere  he,  whom  Circe  fought  to  charm  in  vain, 
Follow 'd  wild  fortune  o'er  the  various  main, 
In  youth's  gay  bloom  he  plied  th'  exulting  oar, 
Trom  Ithaca's  white  rocks  to  Sparta's  fliore: 

*  Plato  mentions  two  provinces  in  Perfia,  one  of 
ivhicb  was  called  Qrtecn's  Girdle,  the  other  the 
Queen's  fell,  the  revenues  of  which,  no  doubt, 
were  employed  in  purchajing  thofe  parts  of  her 
Majejly's  drcfs.  It  was  about  the  middle  of  the 
third  century,  that  the  eaflern  women,  on  taking 
the  <VQW  of -virginity,  ajfumed  that  veil  which  had 
tefarebeen  wornby  thePaganPrieftfjfes,and  which 
is  ufed  by  the  religions  among  the  Roman'tfts  now. 

f  "  Kc  is  the  vaile  of  thine  eyes  to  all  that  are 
with  thec,  and  to  all  others." 

GEK.  sx.  iS.    YrT. 
ft 


Free  to  Nerician  *  gales  the  vefTel  glides, 
And  wild  Eurotas  f  imooths  his  warrior-tides; 
For  amorous  Greece,  when  love  conduces  the  way, 
Beholds  her  waters,  and  her  winds  obey. 
No  object  her's  but  love's  impreffion  knows. 
No  wave  that  wanders,  and  no  breeze  that  blows  ; 
Her  groves  |,her  mountains  have  his  power  confeir, 
And  Zephyr  figh'd  not  but  for  Flora's  bread. 

'Twaswhen  his*fiphs  in  fweeteltwhifpersftray'd, 
Far  o'er  Laconia's  plains  from  Eva's  §  fljade  ; 
When  ibft-ey'd  Ipring  refum'd  his  mantle  gay, 
And  lean'd  luxurious  on  the  bread  of  May, 
Love's  genial  banners  young  Ulyfles  bore 
From  Ithaca's  white  rocks  to  Sparta's  fliore. 

With  all  that  fooths  the  heart,  that  wins,  or 
All  princely  virtues,  and  all  manly  charms,  [warms, 
All  love  can  nrge,  or  eloquence  perfuade, 
The  future  hero  woo'd  his  Spartan  maid. 

Yet  long  he  woo'd In  Sparta,  flow  to  yield, 

Beauty,  like  valour,  long  maintain'd  the  field. 

"  No  bloom  fo  fair  Meflene's  banks  difclofe  ; 
"  No  breath  fo  pure  o'er  Terape's  bofom  blows ; 
«  No  fmile  fo  radiant  throws  the  genial  ray 
«*  Through  the  fair  eye-lids  of  the  opening  day; 
"  But  deaf  to  vows  with  funded  paflion  preft, 
«'  Cold  is  the  wave  of  Hebrus'  wint'ry  brealt, 
«'  Penelope  regards  no  lover's  pain, 
"  And  owns  Ulyfles  eloquent  in  vain. 

"  To  vows  that  vainly  wafle  their  warmth   ia 
"  lufidious  hopes  that  lead  but  to  defpair,       [air, 
"  AiFedlions  loft,  defires  the  heart  mull  rue, 
*'  And  love,  and  Sparta's  joylefs  plains  adieu  ! 

"  Yet  Itill  this  bofora  (hall  one  paffion  (hare, 
«'  Still  fhall  my  country  find  a  father  there. 
11  ILv'n  now  the  children  of  my  little  reign 
"  Demand  that  father,  of  the  faithlefs  main; 
«'  Ev'n  now,  their  prince  folicitous  to  fave» 
«  Climb  the  tall  cliff,  and  watch  the  changeful 

"  wave. 

"  But  not  for  him  their  hopes,  or  fears  alone  ! 
"  They  feek  the  promis'd  partner  of  his  throne  ; 
"  For  her  their  incenfe  breathes,  their  altars  blaze, 
"  For  her  to  Heaven  the  fupnltant  eye  they  raife. 
*'  Ah  !  lliall   they  know  their  prince  implor'd  i* 

"  vain  ? 
"  Can  my  heart  live  beneath  a  nation's  pain  ?" 

There  fpoke  the  virtue  that  her  foul  admir'd, 
The  Spartan  foul-,  with  patriot  ardour  fir'd. 
"  Enough  1"  ihe  cried—"  be  mine  to  boail  a  part 
"  In  him,  who  holds  his  country  to  his  heart. 
"  Worth,  honour,  faith,  that  fair  affeclion  gives, 
"  And  with  that  virtue,  every  virtue  lives  jj." 

Pleas'd  that  the  nobler  principles  could  move 
His  daughter's  heart,  and  foften  it  to  love, 
Icarius  own'd  theaufpices  divine, 
Wove  the  fair  crown  ^,  and  blefs'd  the  holy  flirine. 

*  From  the  mountain  Neritos  in  Ithaca,  noiii 
called  Nericia. 

f  The  Spartan  river. 

\  "  E  mentre  d'  Alberghe  Amore."        TASSO. 

§  A  mountain  in  Pcloponnefus. 

||  "  Omne^  omnium  Caritates,"  &c.  Cic. 

^[  The  women  of  ancient  Greece  at  the  marriage, 
ceremony  wore  garlands  of 'flowers,  probably as  em* 
blerns  of  purity,  futility  arid  beauty.  Ibns  £ar;^>i- 
ties. 


P    ©    E    M    S. 


But  ah  !  the  dre?.<1ed  parting'liour  to  brave  ! 
Then  ftrong  affection  grit-  v'd  lor  what  it  gave. 
Should  he  the  comfoit  of  his  lit  •'.-,  decline, 
His  life's  laft  charm  to  Ithaca  r'l\  :i  ? 
Or,  wand'ring  with  her  to  a  diltaut  fhore, 
Behold  turotas'  long-lov'd  banks  no  more  ? 
Expose  his  gray  hairs  to  an  alien  fhy, 
l^or  on  his  country's  parent  bofom  die  *  ? 
"  Mo,  prince,"  he  c;ied  ;  "  for  Sparta's  happier 

"   [jlain, 

"  Leave  the  lov'd  honours  of  thy  little  reign, 
"  The  grateful  change  iliall  equal  honours  bring; 
**  —  bord  of  himfelf,  a  Spartan  is  a  king." 

When  thus  the  prince,  with  obvious  grief  op- 

prert,. 

"  Canft  thou  not  force  the  father  from  thy  bread? 
"  Not  without  pain  behold  one  child  depart, 
"  Yet  bid  me  tear  aviation  from  my  heart? 
"  —  Not  for  all  Si,ar'ta\  all  Eubce<t*s  [  laius"--- 
He  faid,  and  to  his  courfers"  gave  the  r;  ins. 

Still  the  fond  fire  pur!  lies  with  fupj.iltr.nt  voice, 
Tidl  mov'd,  the  monarch  yields  her  to  her  choice. 
*'  Thou  mine  by  vows,  by  f^ir  afTcrtion  mine, 
*'   And  holy  truth,  and  aufpices  divine  ; 
*'  This  fuit  let  fair  Penelope  decide, 
"  Remain  the  daughter,  or  proceed  the  bride." 
O'er  the  quick  blufli  her  friendly  mantle  fell, 
And  told  him  all  that  modefty  could  tell. 
No  longer  now  the  father's  fondnefs  ftrovc 
With  patriot  virtue,  or  ackmnviedg'd  love, 
But  OR-the  fcene  that  parting  fighs  endear'd, 
Fair  modefty's  f  tirlt  honour'd  fane  he  rear'd. 

The  daughter's  form  the  pictured  goddefs  wore, 
The  daughter's  veil  J  before  her  blulhes  bore, 
And  taught  the  maids  of  Greece  this  fovereigu 

law  — 
She  molt  mail  conquer,  who  fhall  mod  withdraw. 


vty  yr/w,  at  yttfiovfttvw. 

IPU.  IN  AUL. 

The  modern  Greek  ladies  ivear  tbcfc  garland  ini 
rious  fonuSiiubenever  tbcyappcardrrff'±d;and  fre 
quently  adorn  tbemfelves  thus  for  then  own  <ir»ufc- 
rnent,  and  when  they  do  not  cxpeti  to  befecn  by  any 
but  their  domeflics. 

Vtyage  Llteratre  fie  la  Greece 

*  The  ancients  ejieemed  this  one  (f  the  grea 
misfortunes  that  could  befall  them.  The  Trojan. 
thought  it  the  tnoft  lamentable  circumftatice  attend 
ing  the  loft  of  their  pilot  Pali/iurus,  that  his  body 
jlould  lie  in  a  foreign  country. 

"  -  IgnotS  Palinure  jacebis  Arena".       VIRG 

f  Paufanias,  nubo  lias  recorded  theftory  on  wbifi. 
this  little  poem  is  founded,  tells  us,  that  this  ii/at 
tbefrft  ttmple  crcflsd  to  modejly  in  Greece, 

\  See  the  Veil  of  Mo  defy  in  the  Mufteum  Capi- 
tolinum,  vol.  iii.  and  fur  further  proofs  of  its  high 
antiquity,  fee  Horn.  OdyJJT.  I.  6. 

Claud.  Epitbal.  Honor,  where  be  fays, 
Et'crines  feftina  ligat  Peplumque  fluentera 
Allevat  —  •  --- 
Ipbig.  in  Taur.  aft  4.  and  Coltit.  Rapt.  Helen,  i- 
38  1./.  i.  <wbere  Hcrmione  tears  her  gold-em- 
tr  oider  ed  veil  on  the  difappi-arunce  of  Helen  : 
-^—  Aureuin  qitoc^ue  ru^it  capitis  tegmen, 


THE  COUNTR.Y  JUSTICE. 

A  POEM  IN  THRtE  TAKTS. 

To  Richard  Burn,  LL.  D.  one  cfbis  Majcfy's  J'i<f, 
ticfs  cf  the  Peace  for  the  Ctunties  oj  Wcfinorc- 
land  and  Cumberland. 

DEAR    SIR, 

A  POEM  written  proftfiedly  at  your  requeft,  na 
turally  addretlcs  ittelf  to  you.  The  diitinclien  you 
l»:ive  acquired  on  the  lubjf  dt,  and  your  tafte  foi  ihe 
arts,  give  that  addrtfs  every  kind  of  propriety.  If 
I  hav  any  particular  latisfaition  in  this  publica 
tion,  bcll.'.e  what  anfes  from  my  compliance  with 
?our  commands,  it  mult  t>e  in  the  idea  of  that  tef- 
timony  it  bears  to  our  friendlhtp.  If  you  believe, 
that  I  am  more  concerned  for  the  duration  of  that 
than  or  the  poem  itfeh,  you  will  not  be  nmtaken ; 
for  I  aiij 

Dear  Sir, 

Your  truly  affectionate  brother, 
And  faithful  humble  fervant, 

THE  AUTHOR, 


IN  Richard's  days,  when  loft  his  paftur'd  plain, 
The  wand'ring  Briton   fought   the  wild    wooitt 

reign, 

With  great  difdain  beheld  the  feudal  hord 
Poor  life-let  vaffals  of  a  Norman  lord  ; 
A  nd,  what  no  brave  man  ever  loft,  pofTefsM 
Himfelf — for  freedom  bound  him  to  her  breaftV 

Lov'tt  thou  that  freedom  ?  by  her  holy  flume* 
If  yet  one  drop  of  Britifli  blood  be  thine, 
See,  I  conjure  thee,  in  the  defert  (hade, 
His  bow  unftrung,  his  little  houiehold  laid, 
Some  brave  forefather;  while  his  fields  they  fliare, 
By  Saxon,  Dane,  or  Norman,  banifh'd  there  ! 
And  think  be  tells  thee,  as  hib  foul  withdraws. 
As  his  heart  fwelis  againft  a  tyrant's  laws," 
The  war  with  fate  though  fruitlefs  to  maintain, 
To  guard  that  liberty  he  lov'd  in  vain. 

Were  thoughts  like  thefe  the  dream  of  ancient 

time  ? 

Peculiar  only  to  fome  age,  or  clime  ? 
And  does  not  nature  thoughts  like  thcfe  impart. 
Breathe  in  the  foul,  and  write  upon  the  heart  ? 

Alk  on  their  mountains  yon  deferted  band, 
That  point  to  Paoli  with  no  plaufive  hand  ; 
Defpiling  rtill,  their  freeborn  fouls  unbroke, 
Alike  the  Gallic  and  Ligurian  yoke  ! 

Yet  while  the  patriot's  gen'rous  rage  we  fliarc, 
Stiil  civil  fafety  calls  us  back  to  care ; 
To  Britain  lo!t  in  either  Hepry's  day, 
Her  woods,  her  mountains  one  wild  fcene  of  prey! 
Fair  peace  from  all  her  bounteous  vallies  fled, 
And  law  beneath  the  barbed  arrows  bled. 

In  happier  days,  with  more  aufpicious  fate, 
The  far-fain 'd  Edward  heal'd  his  wounded  ftate ; 
Dread  of  his  foes,  but  to  his  fubjects  dear, 
Thefe  learn'd  to  love,  asthofe  are  taught  to  fear, 
Their  laurtll'd  prince  with  Britifli  pride  obey, 
His  glory  fhone  their  difcontent  away. 

With  care  the  tender  flow'r  of  love  tofave, 
And  plant  the  olive  on  diforder's  grave, 
For  civil  ftorms  frefh  barriers  to  provide, 
He  caught  the  fat'ring  calm  and  falling  tide. 


»5i  THE  WORKS  OF 

The  focial  laws  from  infult  to  protect, 
To  cherith  peace,  to  cultivate  refpedl ; 
The  rich  from  wanton  cruelty  reftrain, 
To  fmooth  the  bed  of  penury  and  pain  ; 
The  haplefs  vagrant  to  h.s  rtft  reftore, 
The  maze  of  fraud,  the  haunts  of  theft  explore  ; 
The  thoughtlefs  maiden,  when  fubdu'd  by  art, 
To  aid,  and  bring  her  rover  to  her  heart ; 
"Wild  riot's  voice  with  dignity  to  quell, 
Forbid  unpeaceful  paflions  to  rebel, 
Wreft  from  revenge  the  meditated  harm, 
For  this  fair  juftice  rais'd  her  facred  arm  ; 
For  this  the  ruial  magiftrate,  of  yore, 
Thy  honours,  Edward,  to  his  manfion  bore. 

Oft,  where  old  Air  in  confcious  glory  fails, 
On  filver  waves  that  flow  through  fmiling  vales ; 
In  Harewood's  groves,  where  long  my  youth  was 

laid, 

Unfeen  beneath  their  ancient  world  of  made ; 
With  many  a  group  of  antique  columns  crown'di 
In  Gothic  guife  fuch  manfion  have  oft  found. 
Nor  lightly  deem,  ye  apes  of  modern  race, 
Ye  cits  that  fore  bedizen  nature's  face, 
Of  the  more  manly  itruftures  here  ye  view ; 
They  rofe  for  greatnefs  that  ye  never  knew  I 
Ye  reptile  cits,  that  oft  have  mov'd  my  fpleen 
With  Venus  arid  the  graces  on  your  green  ! 
Let  Plutus,  growling  o'er  his  ill-got  wealth, 
let  Mercury,  the  thriving  god  of  Health, 
The  fhop-man>  Janus,  with  his  double  looks, 
Rife  on  your  mounts,  and  perch  upon  your  books  I 
But  fpare  my  Venus,  fpare  each  fifter  grace, 
Ye  cits,  that  fore  bedizen  nature's  face  1 
Ye  royal  architecls,  whofe  antic  taite, 
"Would  lay  the  realms  of  fenfe  and  nature  wafte  ; 
Forgot,  whenever  from  her  fteps  ye  ftray, 
That  folly  only  points  each  other  way  ; 
Here,  though  your  eye  no  courtly  creature  fees, 
Snakes  on  the  ground,  or  monkies  in  the  trees  ; 
Yet  let  not  too  fevere  a  cenfure  fall, 
On  the  plain  precin&s  of  the  ancient  hall. 

For  though  no  fight  your  childifti  fancy  meets, 
Of  Thibet's  dogs,  or  China's  perroquets ; 
Though  apes,  afps,  lizards,  things  without  a  tail, 
And  all  the  tribes  of  foreign  monfters  fail ; 
Here  mall  ye  figh  to  fee,  with  ruft  o'ergrown, 
The  iron  griffin  and  the  fphinx  of  ftone  ; 
And  mourn,  negledted  in  their  wafte  abodes, 
Fire-breathing  drakes,  and  water-fpouting  gods. 
Long  have  thefe  mighty  monfters  known  dif- 

grace, 

Yet  ftill  fome  trophies  hold  their  ancient  place  ; 
Where,   round  the  hall,   the  oaks  high  furbafe 

rears 
Tie  field-day  triumphs  of  two  hundred  years. 

Th'  enormous  antlers  here  recal  the  day 
That  faw  the  foreft  monarch  forc'd  away  ; 
Who,  many  a  flood,  and  many  a  mountain  paft, 
Not  rinding  thofe,  nor  deeming  thefe  the  lalt, 
O'er  floods,  o'er  mountains  yet  prepar'd  to  fly, 
Long  ere  the  death-drop  fill'd  his  failing  eye  ! 
Here  fam'd  for  cunning,  and  in  crimes  grown 

old, 

Hangs  his  gray  brufh,  the  felon  of  the  fold. 
Oft  as  the  rent-featt  fwells  the  midnight  cheer, 
The  maudlin  farmer  kens  him  o'er  his  beer, 
And  tells  his  old,  traditionary  tale, 
Though  known  to  ev'ry  tenant  of  the  vale. 


LANGHORNE. 

Here,  where  of  old  the  feftal  ox  has  fed, 
Mark'd  with  his  weight,  the  mighty  horns  arc 

fpread  ! 

Some  ox,  O  Marfliall,  for  a  board  like  thine, 
Where  the  vaft  mafter  with  the  vaft  furloin 
Vied  in  round  magnitude^-- Refpectl-bear 
To  thee,  though  Oft  the  ruin  of  the  chair. 

Thefe,  and  fuch  antique  tokens  that  record 
The  manly  fpirit,  and  the  bounteous  board, 
Me  more  deJight  than  all  the  gew-gaw  train, 
The  whims  and  zigzags  of  a  modern  brain, 
More  than  all  Afia's  marmofets  to  view, 
Grin,  frifk,  and  water  in  the  walks  of  Kew. 

Through  thefe  fair  vallies,  ftranger,  haft  thoa 

ftray'd, 

By  any  chance,  to  vifit  Harewood's  fliade, 
And  feen  with  honeft,  antiquated  air, 
In  the  plain  hall  the  magiihatial  chair  ? 
There  Herbert  fat— -The  love  of  human  kind, 
Pure  light  of  truth,  and  temperance  of  mind, 
In  the  free  eye  the  featur'd  foul  difplay'd, 
Honour's  ftrong  beam,  and^mercy's  melting  fliade  j 
Juftice  that,  in  the  ligid  paths  of  law, 
Would  ftiil  fome  drops  from  pity's  fountain  draw, 
Bend  o'er  her  urn  with  many  a  gen'rousfear, 
Ere  his  firm  feal  fhould  force  one  orphan's  tear  ;    . 
Fair  equity,  and  reafon  fcorning  art, 
And  all  the  fober  virtues  of  the  heart — 
Thefe  fat  with  Herbert,  thefe  fliall  beft  avail 
Where  ftatutes  order,  or  where  ftatutes  faiL 

Be  this,  ye  rural  magiftrates,  your  plan  :  *^- 
Firmbe  your  juftice,  but  be  friends  to  man. 

He  whom  the  mighty  mafter  of  this  ball 
We  fondly  deem,  or  farcically  call, 
To  own  the  patriarch's  truth,  however  loth. 
Holds  but  a  manfion  crufli'd  before  the  moth. 

Frail  in  his  genius,  in  his  heatt  too  frail, 
Born  but  to  err,  and  erring  to  bewail, 
Shalt  thou  his  faults  with  eye  fevere  explore, 
And  give  to  life  one  human  weaknefs  more  ? 

Still  mark  if  vice  or  nature  prompts  the  deed  ; 
Still  mark  the  ftrong  temptation  and  the  need  : 
On  preffing  wan,t,  on  famine's  powerful  call, 
At  leaft  more  lenient  let  thy  juftice  fall. 

For  him,  who,  loft  to  ev'ry  hope  of  life, 
Has  long  with  fortune  held  unequal  ftrife, 
Known  to  no  human  love,  no  human  care, 
The  friendlefs,  homelefs  object,  of  defpair; 
For  the  poor  vagrant  feel,  while  he  complains, 
Nor  from  fad  freedom  fend  to  fadder  chains. 
Alike,  if  folly  or  misfortune  brought    -  . 
Thofe  laft  of  woes  his  evil  days  have  wrought ; 
Believe  with  facial  mercy  and  with  me, 
Folly's  misfortune  in  the  firft  degree. 

Perhaps  on  fome  inhofpitable  more 
The  houfelefs  wretch  a  widow'd  parent  bore  5 
Who  then,  no  more  by  golden  profpecls  led, 
Of  the  poor  Indian  begg'd  a  leafy  bed. 
Cold  on  Canadian  hills,  or  Minden's  pla,in, 
''  Perhaps  that  parent  mourn'd  her  foldier  flain  ; 
Bent  o'er  her  babe,  her  eye  diffolv'd  in  dew, 
The  big  drops  mingling  with  the  milk  he  drew. 
Gave  the  fad  prefage  of  his  future  years, 
The  child  of  mifery,  baptiz'd  in  tears  !  ^^ 

O  Edward,  here  thy  faireft  laurels  fade  ! 
And  thy  long  glories  darken  into  fhade  ! 

While  yet  the  palms  thy  hardy  veterans  won, 
The  dee$s  of  valour  that  for  thee  were  done, 


POEMS. 


IV  hue  yet  the  wreaths  for  which  they  bravely  bled 
Fir'd  thy  high  foul,  and  flourifh'd  on  thy  head, 
Thofe  veterans  to  their  native  fhores  return'd, 
Like  exiJes  wander'd,  and  like  exiles  mourn'd ; 
Or,  left  at  large  no  longer  to  bewail, 
Were  vagrants  decm'd,  and  deftm'd  to  a  jail! 
Were  there  no  royal,  yet  uncultur'd  lands, 
No  waftes  that  wanted  fuch  fubduing  hands  ? 
Were  Crefly's  heroes  fuch  abandon'd  things  ? 
O  fate  of  war!  and  gratitude  of  kings! 

The  gipfy-race  my  pity  rarely  move  ; 
Yet  their  flrong  rhirft  of  liberty  I  love. 
Not  Wilkes,  our  freedom's  holy  martyr,  more ; 
Nor  his  firm  phalanx  of  the  common  fhore. 

For  this  in  Norwood's  patrimonial  groves 
The  tawny  father  with  his  offspring  roves; 
When  fummcr  funs  lead  flow  the  fultry  day, 
In  moffy  caves,  where  welling  waters  play, 
Fann'd  by  each  gale  that  cools  the  fervid  fky, 
With  this  in  ragged  luxury  they  lie. 
Oft  at  the  fun  the  duflcy  Elfins  flrain 
The  fable  eye,  then  fhugging,  fleep  again ; 
Oft  as  the  dews  of  cooler  evening  fall, 
For  their  prophetic  mother's  mantle  call. 

Far  other  cares  that  wand'ring  mother  wait, 
The  mouth,  and  oft  the  minifler  of  fate  ! 
From  her  to  hear,  in  ev'n ing's  friendly  (hade, 
Of  future  fortune,  flics  the  village-maid, 
Draws  her  long-hoarded  copper  from  its  hold ; 
And  rufly  halfpence  purchafe  hopes  of  gold. 

But,  ah !  ye  maids,  beware  the  gipfy's  lures  ! 
She  opens  not  the  womb  of  time,  but  yours. 
Oft  has  her  hands  the  haplefs  Marian  wrung, 
Marian,  whom  Gay  in  fweetefl  ftrains  has  fung ! 
The  parfon's  maid — fore  caufe  had  fhe  to  rue 
The  gipfy's  tongue  •(  the  parfon's  daughter  too. 
Long  had  that  anxious  daughter  figh'd  to  know 
What  Vellum's  fprucy  clerk,  the  valley's  beau, 
Meant  by  thofe  glances  which  at  church  he  ftole, 
Her  father  nodding  to  the  pfalm's  flow  drawl ; 
Long  had  fhe  figh'd  ;  at  length  a  prophet  came, 
'By  many  a  fure  prediction  known  to  fame, 
To  Marian  known,  and  all  fhe  told," for  true: 
She  knew  the  future,  for  the  paft  fhe  knew. 
Where,  in  the  darkling  fhed,  the  moon's  dim 

rays 

Beam'd  on  the  ruins  of  a  one-horfe  chaife, 
Villaria  fat,  while  faithful  Marian  brought 
The  wayward  prophet  of  the  woe  fhe  fought. 
Twice  did  her  hands,  the  income  of  the  week, 
On  either  fide  the  crooked  fixpence  feek ; 
Twice  were  thofe  hands  withdrawn  from  either 

fide, 

To  flop  the  titt'ring  laugh,  the  blufh  to  hide. 
The  wayward  prophet  made  no  long  delay, 
No  novice  fhe  in  fortune's  devious  way  ! 
*'  Ere  yet,"  fhe  cry 'd, "  ten  rolling  months  are  o'er, 
"  Muft  ye  be  mothers ;  maids,  at  leaft,  no  more. 
"  With  you  fhall  foon,  O  lady  fair,  prevail 
*  A  gentle  youth,  the  flower  of  this  fair  vale. 
«'  To  Marian,  once  of  Colin  Clout  the  fcorn, 
"  Shall  bumpkin  come,  and  bumpkinets  be  born." 
Smote  to  .the  heart,  the  maidens  marvell'd  fore, 
That  tehfhort  months  had  fuch  events  in  ftore; 
But  holding  firm  what  village-maids  believe, 
That  ftrife  with  fate  is  milking  in  a  fievc ; 
To  prove  their  prophet  true,  though  to  their  cofl, 
They  juftly  thought  no  time  was  to  be  loll. 


Thefe  foes  to  youth,  that  feek,  with  dang'roas 
To  aid  the  native  weaknefs  of  the  heart ;  [art, 
Thefe  mifcreants  from  thy  harmlefs  village  drive, 
As  wafps  felonious  from  the  lab'ring  hive. 

THE  COUNTRY  JUSTICE. 

A  POEM. 
To  Rottrt  Wilfon  Cratroft,  Efj. 

BORN  with  a  gentle  heart,  and  born  to  pleafe 
With  native  goodnefs,  of  no  fortune  vain, 

The  focial  afpeci  of  inviting  eafe, 
The  kind  opinion,  and  the  lenfe  humane; 

To  thee,  my  Cracroft,  whom,  in  early  youth, 
With  lenient  hand  and  anxious  love  I  led 

Through  paths  where  fcience  points  to  manly  truth, 
And  glory  gilds  the  manfions  of  the  dead. 

To  thee  this  offering  of  maturer  thought. 
That,  fince  wild  fancy  flung  the  lyre  afide, 

Withjieedful  hand  the  moral  mufe  hath  wrought, 
That  mufe  devotes,  and  bears  with  honeft  pride. 

Yet  not  that  period-of  the  human  year, 

When  fancy  reign'd,  fhall  we  with  pain  review, 

All  nature's  feafons  different  afpecls  wear, 
And  now  her  flowers,  and  now  her  fruits  are 
due. 

Not  that  in  youth  we  rang'd  the  fmiling  meads,    , 
On  Effex'  fhores  the  trembling  angle  play'd, 

Urging  at  noon  the  flow  boat  in  the  reeds, 
That  wav'd  their  green  uncertainty  of  fhade  : 

Nor  yet  the  days  confum'd  in  Hackthorn's  vale* 
That  lonely  on  the  heath's  wild  bofom  lies, 

Should  we  with  ftera  feverity  bewail, 
And  all  the  lighter  hours  of  life  dtfpife. 

For  nature's  feafons  different  afpects  wear, 

And  now  her  flowers,  and  now  her  fruits  are, 
due  ; 

Awhile  fhe  freed  us  from  the  fcourge  of  care, 
But  told  us  then — for  focial  ends  we  grew. 

To  find  fome  virtue  trac'd  on  life's  fhort  pagef 
Some  mark  of  fervice  paid  to  human  kind, 

Alone  can  cheer  the  wint'ry  paths  of  age, 
Alone  fupport  the  far-reflecting  mind. 

Oh  !  often  thought— when  Smith's  difcerning  care 
To  further  days  prolong'd  this  failing  frame! 

To  die  was  little — But  what  heart  could  bear 
To  die,  and  leave  an  undiflinguifh'd  name? 

Blagdon-Houfet  F.i.  22.  1775. 

PART  II. 

*  YET,  while. thy  rod  reflrains  the  needy  crew, 
Remember  that  thou  art  their  monarch  too. 
King  of  the  beggars !— Lov'fl  thou  not  the  name? 
O,  great  from  Ganges  to  the  golden  Thame  ! 
Far-ruling  fovereign  of  this  begging  ball, 
;,ow  at  thf  footilool  oth-;r  thrones  fhail  fall. 
rlis  alms  to  thee  the  whifkcr'd  Moor  convey  f, 
And  Pruffia's  fturdy  beggar  own  thy  fway ; 

*   Refers  to  the  conclufion  of  the  f.tjl  part. 
|  The  Mahometan  princes  fcem  to  Lave  a  regular 
lySfia  cf  b;$ging.    frothing  f»  eemmon  as  to  ttar  ttut 


254 


Courts,  fefcat«*-r-all  to  Bsal  that  bend  the  knee  *, 
King  of  the  beggurs,  thefe  arc  fiefs  to  thee ! 

But  ftill,  forgot  the  grandeur  of  thy  reign, 
Defcend  to  duties  meatier  crowns  difdain  ; 
That  worffc  excrefcency  of  power  forego, 
That  pride  of  kings,  humanity's  tint  foe. 

Let  age  no  longer  toil  with  feeble  ftrife, 
Worn  by  long  fervice  in  the  war  of  life ; 
Nor  leave  the  head  that  time  hath  whiten'd,  bare 
To  the  rude  infults  of  the  fearching  air ; 
Nor  bid  the  knee,  by  labour  hardcu'd,  bend, 
O  thou,  the  poor  man's  hope,  the  poor  man's  friend! 

If,  when  from  Heav'n  feverer  feafoni  fall, 
Pled  from  the  frozen  roof  and  mouldering  wall, 
>"ach  face  the  picture  of  a  winter  day,  [tray ; 

More   ftrong  tthan   Teniers'   pencil    could   por- 
If  then  to  thee  retort  the  fhivering  train, 
'•  Of  cruel  days,  and  cruel  man  complain, 
Say  to  thy  heart  (remembering  him  who  faid) 
"  Thefe  people  come  from  far,  and  have  no  bread." 

Nor  leave  thy  venal  clerk  empower'd  to  hear  ; 
The  voice  of  -want  is  facrcd  to  thy  ear. 
,  He  where  no  fees  hit  fordid  pen  invite, 
Sports  with  their  tears,  too  indolent  to  write  ; 
.Like  the  fed  monkey  in  the  fable,  vain 
1  To  hear  more  helplefs  animals  complain. 

But  chief  thy  notice  fliall  one  monfier  claim ; 
'  A  monfier  Furnifh'd  with  a  human  frame, 
The  parifh-officer  ! — though  verfe  difdain 
Terms  that  deform  the  fplendour  of  the  ftrain  ;'    ' 
It  ftoops  to  bid  thee  bend  the  brow  fevcre 
On  the  fly,  pilfering,  cruel  overfcer ; 
The  fhufiling  farmer,  faithful  to  no  truft, 
Ruthlefs  as  racks,  infatiate  as  the  dull ! 
v  When  the  poor  hind,  with  length  of  years  de- 

cay'd, 

'Leans  feebly  on  his  once  fubduing  fpade. 
Forgot  the  fervice  of  his  abler  days, 
His  profitable  toil,  and  honeft  praife, 
r  Phall  this  low  wretch  abridge  his  fcanty  bread, 
This  flave,  whofe  board  his  former  labours  fpread  ? 

When  harveft's  burning  funs  and  fickening  air 
From  labour's  uubrac'd  hand  the  grafp'd  hook 

tear, 

Where  fliall  the  helplefs  family  be  fed, 
That  vainly  languifh  for  a  father's  bread  ? 
See  the  pale  mother,  funk  with  grief  and  care, 
To  the  proud  farmer  fearfully  repair ; 
:  Soon  to  be  fent  with  infolence  away, 
Referr'd  to  veftries,  and  a  diftant  day  ! 
Referr'd — to  perifb  ! — Is  my  verfe  fevere  ? 
Unfriendly  to  the  human  charade  ? 
Ah  !  to  this  iigh  of  fad  experience  truft : 
The  truth  is  rigid,  but  the  tale  is  juft. 

If  in  thy  courts  this  caitiff  wretch  appear, 
Think  not  that  patience  were  a  virtue  here. 
His  low-born  pride  with  honeft  ragecontrou!; 
Smite  his  hard  heart,  and  make  his  reptile  foul. 

But,  haplefs  !  oft  through  fear  of  future  woe, 
And  certain  vengeance  of  th'  infulting  foe, 

tit  Dej  of  Alters,  ts*<.  fcrV.  are  JffitlsjcJ  -with  tleir 
prtfents.  It  muf  be  owned,  it  -would  be  for  the  -welfare 
•/the  -wirU,  if  grinds  in  general  would  adhtrt  to  ths 
waxim,  that  it  is  better  to  beg  than  to  fteal. 


THE   Vt'ORlCS   OF   L  A  N  G  H  O  RN  E. 

Oft,  ere  to  thee  th';  poor  prefer  their  prsy'f, 
The  lail  extremes  of  penury  they  bear. 

Wouldft  thou  then  ruife  thy  patriot  office  higher, 
To  fomething  more  than  magiftrate  afpire  ? 
And,  left  each  poorer,  pettier  chafe  behind, 
Step  nobly  forth,  the  friend  of  humankind  ? 
The  game  I  ftart  courageoufly  purfue! 
Adieu  to  fear  !  to  infolence  adieu  ! 
And  firfl  we'll  range  this  mountain's'  ftormy  fide, 
Where  the  rude  winds  the  fhepherd's   roof  de- 


*  "  — —  Tu  pofcis  vilia  rerum, 
«  Quamvisfu-stenjilkusegcntsw." 


H«R, 


As  meet  no  more  the  wint'ry  bhift  to  bear, 
And  all  the  wild  hoftilities  of  air,  _^ 

— That  roof  have  I  remember'd  many  a  year; 
It  once  gave  refuge  tc  a  hunted  deer — 
Here,  in  thofe  days,  we  found  an  aged  pair  ;— 
But  time  untenants — hah  !  what  feeft  thou  there  ?• 
"  Horror  !•— by  Heav'n,  extended  on  a  bed 
"  Of  naked  fearn,  two  human  creatures  dead! 
"  Embracing  as  alive  ! — ah,  no  ! — no  life! 
«  Cold,  breathlefs !" 

'Tis  the  fhephcrdand  his  wife. 
I  knew  the  fcene,  and  brought  thee  to  behold 
What  fpcaks  more  ftrongly  than  the  ftory  told. 
They  died  through  want — 

"  By  every  power  I  fwcar, 
"  If  the  wretch  treads  the  earth,  or  breathes  the 

"  air, 

"  Through  whofc  default  6f  duty,  ordefign, 
"  Thefe  victims  fell,  he  dies." 

They  fell  by  thine 
"  Infernal! — Mine! — by — " 

Swear  on  no  pretence  : 
A  fwearing  juflice  wants  both  grace  and  fenfe. 

When  thy  good  father  held  this  wide  domain^ 
The  voice  of  fbrrow  never  mourn'd  in  vain. 
SoQth'd.by  his  pity,  by  his  bounty  fed, 
The  fick  found  medicine,  and  the  aged  bread. 
He  left  their  intereft  to  no  parifh-care, 
No  bailiff  urg'd  his  little  empire  there  : 
No  village-tyrant  ftarv'd  them,  or  opprefs'd  ; 
He  learn 'd  their  wants,  and  he  thofe  wants  re-' 
drefs'd. 

Ev'n  thefe,  unhappy  !  who,  beheld  too  late, 
Smote  thy  young  heart  with  horror  at  their  fatej 
His  bounty  found,  and  deftin'd  here  to  keep 
A  fmall  detachment  of  his  mountain-lheep. 
Still  pleas'd  to  fee  them  from  the  annual  fair 
Th'  unwritten  hiftory  of  their  profits  bear ; 
More  nobly  pleas'd  thofe  profits  to  reftore, 
And,  if  their  fortune  fail'd  them,  make  it  more. 

When  nature  gave  her  precept  to  remove 
His  kindred  fpirit  to  the  realm.-;  of  lore, 
Afar  their  anguifh  from  thy  diftant  ear, 
No  arm  to  fave,  and  no  prate&ion  near, 
Led  by  the  lure  of  unaccounted  gold, 
Thy  bailiff  feiz'd  their  little  flock,  and  fold. 

Their  want  contending  parifhes  furvey'd, 
And  this  difovvn'd,  and  that  refus'd  to  aid  : 
A  while,  who  fhould  not  fuccour  them,  they  tried, 
And  in  that  while  the  wretched  victims  died. 

"  I'll  fcalp  that  bailiff—  facrifice." 

In  vain 
To  rave  a^  mifchief,  if  the  caufe  remain  ! 

O  days  loag  loft  to  man  in  each  degree  ! 
The  golden  days  of  hofpitality  ! 
When  liberal  fortunes- vied  with  liberal  ftrife^ 
Te  fill  the  n»kleft  traces  ef  life  j 


When  wealth  waa  virtue's  handmaid,   and  her 

gate 

Gave  a  free  refuge  from  the  wrongs  of  fate ; 
The  poor  at  hand  their  natural  patrons  law, 
And  lawgivers  were  fupplemcnts  of  law  ! 

Loft  are  thofe  days,  and  fafhion'g  boundlefs  (way 
Has  borne  the  guardian  magiflratc  away. 
Save  in  Augufta's  flreets,  or  Gallia's  fhorc, 
The  rural  patron  is  beheld  no  more. 
No  more  the  poor  his  kind  protection  fhare, 
Unknown  their  wants,  and  unreceiv'd  their  prayer. 

Yet  has  that  fafhion,  long  fo  light  and  vain, 
Reformed  at  laft,  and  led  the  moral  train, 
Have  her  gay  vot'ries  nobler  worth  to  Louft 
For  nature's  love,  for  nature's  virtue  loft  ? 
No— fled  from  thefc,  the  fons  of  fortune  £jid 
What  poor  refpect  to  wealth  remains  behind. 
The  mock  regard  alone  of  menial  flaves, 
The  worfhipp'd  calves  of  their  outwitting  knaves! 

Foregone  the  focial,  hofpitable  days, 
When  wide  vales  echoed  with  their  owner's  praife, 
Of  all  that  ancient  .confequcrice  bereft, 
What  has  the  modern  man  of  falhion  left  ? 

Does  he,  perchance,  to  rural  fcencs  repair, 
And  "  wafte  his  fweetnefs"  on  the  effenc'd  air? 
Ah !  gently  lave  the  feeble  frame  he  brings, 
Ye  fcouring  feas !  and  ye  fulphureous  fprings ! 

And  thou,  Brighthelmftone,  where  no  cits  an 
noy, 

(All  borne  to  Margate,  in  the  Margate-hoy) 
Where,  if  the  hafty  creditor  advance, 
Lies  the  light  fkiff,  and  ever-bailing  France, 
Do  thou  defend  him  in  the  dog-day-funs ! 
Secure  in  winter  from  the  rage  of  duns ! 

While  the   grim  catchpole,   the   grim  porter 

fwear, 

One  that  he  is,  and  one,  he  is  not  there, 
The  tortur'd  us'rer,  as  he  murmurs  by, 
Eyes  the  Venetian  blinds,  and  heaves  a  figh. 

O,  from  each  title  folly  ever  took, 
Blood!  Maccarone!  Cicifbeo !  or  Rook! 
From  each  low  paffion,  from  each  low  refort, 
The  thieving  alley,  nay,  the  righteous  court, 
From  Bertie's,  Almack's,  Arthur's,  and  the  neft 
WheVe   Tudah's  ferrets  earth   with   Charles  «n- 

bleft  ;— 

From  thefc  and  all  the  garbage  of  the  great, 
At  honour's,  freedom's,  virtue's  call — retreat ! 

Has  the   fair  vale,  where   reft,    couceal'd  in 

flowers, 

Lies  in  fweet  ambufh  for  thy  carelefs  hours, 
The  breeze,  that,  balmy  fragrance  to  infufc, 
Bathes  its  foft  wing  in  aromatic  dews, 
The  ftream  to  footh  thine  ear,  to  cool  thy  breaft, 
That  mildly  murmurs  from  its  cryflal  reft; — 
Haae   thefe   lefs  charms  to  win,   lefs  power  to 

pleafe, 
Than  haunts  of  rapine,  harbours  of  difeafe  ? 

Will  no  kind  ilumbers  o'er  thine  eyelids  creep, 
Save  where  the  fullen  watchman  growls  at  fleep? 
Does  morn  no  fweeter,  purer  breath  diffufe 
Thau  fleams  through  alleys  from  the  lungs  of 

Jews  ? 

And  is  thy  water,  pent  in  putrid  wood, 
Bethcfda-like,  when  troubled  only  good  ? 

Is  it  thy  paffion  Linley's  voice  to  hear, 
And  has  no  mountain-lark  detain'd  thine  ear  ? 


M    S-.  -,3551 

Song  marks  alone  the  tribes  cf  airy  wing ; 
For,  truft.  me.  man  was  never  meant  to  ling : 
And  all  his  mimic  organs  e'er  expreil, 
Was  but  an  imitative  howl  at  bell. 

Is  it  on  Garrick's  attitude  you  doat  ? 
See  on  the  pointed  cliff  you  lordly  goit ! 
Like  Lear's,  his  beard  defcends  in  graceful  faowy 
And  wild  he  looks  Aipon  the  world  below. 
.  Superior  here  the  fccne  in  every  part! 
Here  reigns  great  nature,  and  there  little  art ! 
Here  let  thy  life  aflame  a  nobler  plan, 
To  nature  faithful,  and  the  friend  of  man ! 

Ur.mimbcr'd  objects  afk  thy  honeft  cart-, 
Eefide  the  orphan's  tear,  the  widow's  prayer  » 
Far  as  thy  power  can  fave,  thy  bounty  blefs, 
Unnumber'd  evils  call  for  thy  redrcfs. 

Seeft  thou  afar  yon  folitary  thorn, 
Whofe  aged  limbs  the  heath's  wild  winda  have 

torn  ? 

While  yet  to  cheer  the  homeward  fhepherd's  ev*^ 
A  few  feem  draggling  in  the  evening  flcy  ! 
Not  many  funs  have  haftened  down  the  day, 
Or  blufhing  moons  immcis'd  in  clouds  their  way, 
Since  there,  a  fcer.e  that  ftain'd  their  facred  ligh^- 
With  horror  ilopp'd  a  felon  in  his  flight ; 
A  bade  juft  born  that  figns  of  life  exprcft, 
Lay  naked  o'er  the  mother's  lifekfs  breaft. 
The  pitying  robber,  confcious  that,  purfu'd, 
He  had  uo  time  to  wafte,  yet  ilood  and  view'd;- 
To  the.  next  cot  the  tn  nibling  infant  bore, 
And  gave  a  part  of  what  he  ftole  before ; 
(Nor  known  to  him  the  wretches  were,  nor  dear, 
He  felt  as  man,  and  diopp'd  a  human  tear. 

Far  other  treatment  fhe  who  breathlefc  lay, 
Found  from  a  viler  animal  of  prey. 

Worn  with  long  toil  on  reany  a  painful  road, 
That  toil  increas'd  by  nature's  growing  load, 
When  evening  brought  the  friendly  hour  of  reftj 
And  all  the  mother  throng'd  about  her  brc^lt, 
The  ruffian  officer  oppos'd  her  flay, 
And,  cruel,  bore  her  in  her  pangs  away, 
So  far  beyond  the  town's  laft  limits  drove, 
That  to  return  were  hopelefs,  had  ihe  ftrovc. 
Abandon'd  thde— with  famine,  pain  and  cold, 
And  anguifh,  fhe  expir'd — the  red  I've  told. 

"  Now   let  me  Iwear— For  by  my  foul's  laft 

"  figh. 
"  That  thief  fhall  live,  that  overfecr  fhall  die." 

Too  late  ! — his  life  the  generous  robber  paid, 
Loft  by  that  pity  which  his  fteps  delay'd  ! 
No  foul-difcerning  Mansfield  lat  to  hear, 
No  Hertford  bore  his  prayer  to  mercy's  ear; 
No  liberal  juflice  firft  affign'd  the  gaol, 
Or  urg'd,  as  Camplin  would  have  urg'd  his  talc. 

The  living  object  ol  thy  honeft  rage, 
Old  in  parochial  crimes,  and  fteel'd  with  age, 
The  grave  church-warden  !«— unabafli'd  he  bear* 
Weekly  to  chutch  his  book  of  wicked  prayers ; 
And  pours,  with  all  the  biafphemy  of  praife, 
His  creeping  foul  in  Sternhold's  creeping  lays  ! 

PART   III. 

O,  NO  !  Sir  John— the  mufe's  gentle  art 
Lives  not  to  blemifh,  but  to  mend  the  heart. 
While  Gay's  brave  robber  grieves  us  f<jr  his  fate,- 
We  hold  the- harpies  of  his  life  in  hate. 


45-6 


THE   WORKS   OF   LANGHORNE. 


Ingenuous  youth,  by  nature's  voice  addreft, 
Finds  not  the  harden'd,  but  the  fueling  breaft ; 
Can  form  no  wi(h  the  dire  effedb  to  prove 
Of  lawlefs  valour,  or  of  venal  love. 
Approves  the  fondnefs  of  the  faithful  maid, 
And  mourns  a  generous  paflion  unrepaid. 

Yet  would  I  praife  the  pious  zeal  that  faves 
Imperial  London  from  her  world  of  knaves  ; 
Yet  would  I  count  it  no  inglorious  ftrife 
To  fcourge  the  pefts  of  property  and  life. 

Come  then,  long  flcill'd  in  theft's  illufive  ways, 
JLord  of  the  clue  that  thrids  her  mighty  maze ! 
Together  let  us  beat  all  Giles's  fields, 
Try  what  the  night-houfe,  what  the  round-houfe 

yields, 

Hang  when  we  mufb,  be  candid  when  we  pleafe, 
But  leave  no  bawd,  unlicens'd,  at  her  eafe. 
.     •  Say  firfl:,  of  thieves  above,  or  thieves  below, 
What  can  we  order  till  their  haunts  we  know  ? 
Far  from  St  James's  let  your  Nimrods  ftray, 
But  ftop  and  call  at  Stephen's  in  their  way. 
That  ancient   victualler,     we've  been  told,  of 

late, 

.  Has  kept  bad  hours,  encourag'd  high  debate; 
That  thofe  without  ftiil  pelting  thofe  within, 
Have  ilunn'd  the  peaceful  neighbours  with  their 

din; 

That  if  you  clofe  his  private  walls  inveft, 
'Tis  odds,  you  meet  with  fome  unruly  gueft — 
Good  Lord,  Sir  John,  how  would  the  people"! 
flare,  f 

To  fee  the  prefent  and  the  late  Lord-mayor  *     T 
Bow  to  the  majefty  of  Bow-flreet  chair !  J 

Illuftrious  chiefs  !  can  I  your  haunts  pafs  by, 
Nor  give  my  long-lov'd  liberty  a  figh  ! 
That  "heavenly   pla/it   which    long    unblemifh'd 

fclew, 

Difhonour'd  only,  only  hurt  by  you  ! 
Difhonour'd,    when    with    harden'd    front    you 

claim 

To  deeds  of  darknefs  her  diviner  name ! 
For  you  grim  licence  ftrove  with  Hydra  breath 
To  fpread  the  blafts  of  peftilencfi  and  death: 
Here  for  poor  vice,  for  dark  amJtion  there 
She  fcatter'd  poifori  through  the  focial  air. 

Yet  here,  in  vain— Oh,  had  her  toil  been  vain, 
When  with  black  wing  {he  fwept  the  weftern 

main ! 

When  with  low  labour,  and  infidious  ar^ 
She  tore  a  daughter  from  her  parent's  heart ! 

Oh,  patriots,  ever  patriots  out  of  place, 
Fair  honour's  foil,  and  liberty's  difgrace  ! 
With  fplecn  I  fee  your  wild  illufions  fpread 
Through  the  long  region  of  a  land  mifled ; 
See  commerce  fink,  fee  cultivation's  charms 
Loft  in  the  rage  of  anarchy  and  arms ! 

And  thou,  O  Ch — m,  once  a  nation's  pride, 
Borne  on  the  brighteft  wave  of  glory's  tide ! 
Haft  thou  the  parent  fpurn'd,  the  erring  child 
"With  profpecls  vain  to  ruin's  arms  beguil'd  ? 
Haft  thou  the  plans  of  -dire  defection  prais'd 
For  the  poor  pleafure  of  a  flatue  rais'd  ? 

Oh,  patriots,  ever  patriots  out  of  place, 
From  Charles  quite  gracelefs,    up   to    Grafton's 
grace ! 

*  Tbit  -was  written  during  the  mayoralty 


Where  forty-five  once  mark'd  the  dirty  doer, 
And  the  chain'd  knife  *  invites  the  paltry  whore; 
Though  far,  methinks,  the  choiceft  guefts  are  fleeT, 
And   Wilkes  and  Humphrey  number'd  with  the 

dead, 
Wilkes,  who  in  death  would  friendfhip's  vows 

fulfil, 

True  to  his  caufe,  and  dines  with  Humphrey  ftill— - 
Where  fkulks  each  dark,  where  roams  each  dcf- 

perate  wight, 
Owls  of  the  day,  and  vultures  of  the  night- 
Shall  we,  O  Knight !  with  crurl  pains  explore, 
Clear  thefe  low  walks,  and  think  the  bufinefs  o'er  ? 
No— much,  alas!  for  you,  for  me  remains, 
Where  juftice  Ceeps,  and  depredation  reigns. 

Wrapt  in  kind  darknefs,  you  no  fpleen  betray, 
When  the  gilt  nabob  lacqueys  all  the  way  : 
Harmlefs  to  you  his  towers,  his  forefts  rife, 
That  fwell  with  anguifh  my  indignant  eyes; 
While  in  thofe  towers  raz'd  villages  I  fee, 
And  tears  of  orphans  watering  every  tree. 
Are  thefe  mock-ruins  that  invade  my  view  ? 
Thefe  are  the  entrails  of  the  poor  Gentoo. 
That  column's  trophied  bafe  his  bones  fupply; 
That  lake  the  tears  that  fwell'd  his  fable  eye  ! 
Let  here,  O  Knight !  their  fteps  terrific  fleer 
Thy  hue   and   cry,   and  loofe   thy  bloodhounds 

here. 

Oh  mercy  !  thron'd  on  his  eternal  breaft, 
Who  breath'd  the  favage  waters  into  reft ; 
By  each  foft  pleafure  that  thy  bofom  fmote, 
When  firft  creation  ftarted  fr6m  his  thought ; 
By  each  warm  tear  that  melted  o'er  thine  eye  ; 
When  on  his  works  was  written — Thefe  muft  die ! 
If  fecret  flaughter  yet,  nor  cruel  war 
Have  from  thefe  mortal  regions  forc'd  ihee  far, 
Still  to  our  follies,  to  our  frailties  blind, 
Oh,  ftretch  thy  healing  wings  o'er  human  kind ! 
— For  them  I  afk  not,  hoftile  to  thy  fway, 
Who  calmly  on  a  brother's  vitals  prey : 
For  them  I  plead  not,  who,  in  blood  embrued, 
HavC  every  fofter  fentiment  fubdued. 

Yet,  gentle  power,  thy  abfence  I  bewail, 
W  hen  feen  the  dark,  dark  regions  of  a  gaol ; 
When  found  alike  in  chains  and  night  enclos'd, 
The  thief  detected,  and  the  thief  fuppos'd ! 
Sure,  the  fair  light,  and  the  falubrious  air, 
Each  yet-fufpedled  prifoner  might  fhare. 
— To  lie,  to  languifh  in  fome  dreary  cell, 
Some  lothed  hold,  where  guilt  and  horror  dwell, 
Ere  yet  the  truth  of  feeming  fa&s  be  tried, 
Ere  yet  their  country's  facred  voice  decide, 
Britain,  behold  thy  citizens  expos'd, 
And  blufh  to  think  the  Gothic  age  uncloi'd! 

Oh,  more  than  Goths,  who  yet  decline  to  r^ze 
That  peft  of  James's  puritanic  days, 
The  favage  law  f  that  barb'roufly  ordains, 
For  female  virtue  loft  a  felon's  pains!— 
Daoms  the  poor  maiden,  as  her  fate  feverc, 
To  toil  and  chains  a  Ipng-enduring  year. 

Th'  unnatural  monarch,  to  the  fex  unkind, 
An  owl  obfcene,  in  learning's  funfhine  blind  ! 
Councils  of  pathics,  cabinets  of  tools, 
Benches  of  knaves,  and  parliaments  of  fools! 

*   Chained  to  tie  table,  to  prevent  depredations 


POEMS. 


fanatic  fools,  that,  in  tliofe  twilight  times, 
With  wild  religion  cloak' d  the  worft  of  crimes  I— 
Hope  we  from  fuch  a  crew,  in  fuch  a  reign, 
For  equal  laws,  or  policy  humane  ? 

Here  then,  O  Juftice,  thy  own  power  forbear ; 
The  fole  protector  of  th'  unpitied  fair. 
Though  long  entreat  the  ruthlefs  overfeer ; 
Though  the  loud  veftry  teaze  thy  tortur'd  ear  ; 
Though  all  to  acts,  to  precedents  appeal, 
Mute  be  thy  pen,  and  vacant  reft  thy  feal. 

Yet  fhalt  thou  know,  nor  is  the  difference  nice, 
The  cafual  fall,  from  impudence  of  vice. 
Abandon'd  guilt  by  active  laws  rcftrain, 
But  paufe  •         if  virtue's  flighted  fpark  remain. 
Left  to  the  fhamelefs  lafh,  the  hard'ning  goal, 
The  faireft  thoughts  of  modefty  would  fail. 

The  downcaft  eye,  the  tear  that  flows  amain, 
As  if  to  afk  her  innocence  again  ; 
The  plaintive  babe,  that  fltimb'ring  feem'd  to  lie 
On  her  foft  breaft,  and  wakes  at  the  heav'd  figh ; 
The  cheek  that  wears  the  beauteous  robe  of  fhame  ; 
How  loth  they  leave  a  gentle  breaft  to  blame  ! 

Hear  then,  O  Juflice!    thy  own  power  for 
bear  ;— 
The  fole  protector  of  th'  unpitied  fair ! 

MILTON'S  ITALIAN  POEMS, 

TRANSLATED  ; 

And  AddftJJed  to  a  Gentleman  of  Italy. 
ADDRESS : 

TO   SIC.  MOZZI,  OF  MACERATA. 

To  thee,  the  child  of  claffic  plains, 

The  happier  hand  of  nature  gave 
Each  grace  of  fancy's  finer  drains, 

Each  mufe  that  mourn'd  o'er  Maro's  grave. 

Nor  yet  the  harp  that  Horace  ftrung, 

With  many  a  charm  of  eafy  art; 
Nor  yet  what  fweet  Tibullus  fung,       1 

When  beauty  bound  him  to  her  heart ; 

Nor  all  the  gentle  Provence  knew, 

Where  each  breeze  bore  a  lover's  figh, 

When  Petrarch's  fweet  perfuafion  drew 
The  tender  woe  from  Laura's  eye ; 

Nor  aught  that  nobler  fcience  feeks, 

What  truth,  what  virtue  muft  avoid ;     . 

Nor  aught  the  voice  of  nature  fpeaks, 
To  thee  unknown,  or  unenjoy'd. 

O  wife  beyond  each  weaker  aim, 

That  weds  the  foul  to  this  low  fphere, 

Fond  to  indulge  tfce  feeble  frame, 

That  holds  a  while  her  prifoner  here ! 

Truft  me,  my  friend,  that  foul  furvives 

(If  e'er  had  mufe  prophetic  flcill), 
And  when  the  fated  hour  arrives, 

That  all  her  faculties  fhall  fill, 

Fit  for  fome  nobler  frame  fhe  flies, 

Afar  to  find  a  fecond  birth ; 
And,  flourifhing  in  fairer  ikies, 

Forfakesher  nurfery  of  earth. 

Oh  !  there,  my  Mozzi,  to  behold 
The  man  that  mourn'd  his  country's  wrong, 
VOL.  XI. 


When  the  poor  exile  left  his  fold, 
*  And  feebly  dragg'd  his  goat  along ! 

On  Plato's  hallow'd  breaft  to  lean, 

And  catch  that  ray  of  heavenly  fire, 
Which  fmooth'd  a  tyrant's  fallen  mien, 

And  bade  the  cruel  thought  retire ! 

Amid  thofe  fairy-fields  to  dwell, 

Where  Taffo's  favour'd  fpirit  faw 
What— numbers  none  but  his  could  tell, 

What— pencils  none  but  his  could  draw ! 

And  oft  at  eve,  if  eve  can  be 

Beneath  the  fource  of  glory's  fmile, 
To  range  Elyfian  groves,  and  fee 

That  nightly  vilitant— ere  while, 

Who,  when  he  left  immortal  choirs, 

To  mix  with  Milton's  kindred  foul, 
The  labours  of  their  golden  lyres 

Would  fteal,  and  whifper  whence  he  ftole. 

Aufonian  bard,  from  my  fond  ear 
By  feas  and  mountains  fever'd  long, 

If,  chance,  thefe  humble  drains  to  hear, 
You  leave  your  more  melodious  fong. 

Whether,  advent'rous,  you  explore 

The  wilds  of  Apenninus'  brow, 
Or,  mufing  near  Lore-to's  f  fhore, 

Smile  piteous  on  the  pilgrim's  vow ; 

The  mufes'  gentle  offering  ftill 

Y«ur  ear  fhall  win,  your  love  fhall  woo, 

And  thefe  fpring-flowers  of  Milton  fill 
The  favour'd  vales  where  firft  they  grew. 

For  me,  depriv'd  of  all  that's  dear, 

Each  fair,"  fond  part'ner  of  my  life, 
Left  with  a  lonely  oar  to  fteer, 

Through  the  rude  ftorms  of  mortal  ftrife  ;— 

When  care,  the  felon  of  my  days, 
Expands  his  cold  and  gloomy  wing, 

His  load  when  ftrong  affliction  lays 
On  hope,  the  heart's  elaftic  fpring. 

For  me  what  folace  yet  remains, 

Save  the  fweet  mufe's  tender  lyre ; 
Sooth'd  by  the  magic  of  her  ftrains, 

If,  chance,  the  felon,  care,  retire? 
Save  the  fweet  mufe's  tender  lyre, 

For  me  no  folace  now  remains ! 
Yet  fhall  the  felon,  care,  retire ; 

Sooth'd  by  the  magic  of  her  ftrains. 
Blavdon-boufe,  June  26.  1776. 

SONNET  I. 

O  I.ADY  fair,  whofe  honour'd  name  is  borne 
By  that  foft  vale,  where  Rhyne  fo  loves  to  ftray, 
And  fees  the  tall  arch  crown  his  wat'ry  way  ! 

Sure  happy  he,  though  much  the  mufe's  fcorn, 
Too  dull  to  die  beneath  thy  beauty's  ray, 
Who  never  felt  that  fpirit's  charmed  fway, 

Which  gentle  fmiles,  and  gentle  deeds  adorn, 

Though  in  thofe  fmiles  are  all  love's  arrows  worn, 
Each  radiant  virtue  though  thofe  deeds  difplay ! 

Sure  happy  he,  who  that  fweet  voice  fhould  hear 


*  Hanc  etiam  vix  Tityre  duce. 
f  Wit  Lin  aftw  miles  of  Macerata. 


VlRG. 


T«E   WORKS   OF   LANGHORNE. 


Mould  the  foft  fpeech,.  or  fwell  the  tuneful 

drain. 

And  c<Mifcious  that  his  humble  vows  were  vain, 
Shut  fond  attention  from  his  clofed  ear ; 

Who,  piteous  of  himfelf,  ihould  timely  part, 
Ere  love  had  held  long  empire  in  his  heart ! 

SONNET  II. 

As  o'er  yon  wild  hill,  -when  the  browner  light 
Of  evening  falls,  the  village  maiden  hies 
To  fofter  fonie  fair  plant  witli  kind  fupplies  ; 

Some  ftranger  plant,  that  yet  in  tender  plight, 

But  feebly  buds,  ere  fpringhas.open'd  quite 
The  foft  affections  of  ferener  Ikies  r 

So  I,  with  fuch  like  gentle  thought  devife 
This  ftranger  tongue  to  cultivate  with  care, 
All  for  the  fake-  of  lovely  lady  fair, 

And  tune  my  lays,  in  language  little  tried 
By  fuch  as  wont  to  Tamis'  banks  repair, 
Tamis  forfeok  for  Arno's  flowery  fide, 

So  wrought  love's  will  that  ever  ruleth  wide ! 

SONNET  III. 

CHARLES,  muft  1  fay,  what  ftrange  it  feemstofay, 

This  rebel  heart  that  love  hath  held  as  naught, 

Or,  hap'ly,  in  his  cunning  mazes  caught, 
-Would  laugh,  and  let  his  captive  fteal  away ; 

This  fimple  heart  hath  now  become  his  prey. 

Yet  hath  no  golden  trefs  this  leffon  taught, 
•Nor  vermeil  cheek  that  fhames  the  rifing  day  : 

Oh  no  ! — 'twas  beauty's  moft  celeftial  ray, 
With  charms  divine  of  fovereign  fweetnefs  fraught! 

The  noble  mien,  the  foul-diflblving  air, 
The  bright  arch  bending  o'er  the  lucid  eye, 

The  voice,  that  breathing  melody  fo  rarer 
Might  lead  the  toil'd  moon  from  the  middle  fky ! 

Charles,  when  fuch  mifchief  arm'd  this  foreign 

fair,  .       [fly. 

Small  chance  had  I  to  hope  this  fimple  heart  mould 

SONNET  IV. 

IK  truth,  1  feel  my  fun  in  thbfe  fair  eyes, 

So  ftrongly  ftrike  they,  like  that  powerful  ray, 
Which  falls  with  all  the  violence  of  day 

On  Lybia's  fands— and  oft,  as  there  ariie 

Hot  wafting  vapours  frsm  the  fource  where  lies 
My  fecret  pain ;  yet,  hap'ly,  thofe  may  fay, 

Who  talk  love's  language,  thefe  are  only  fighs, 
That  the  foft  ardours  of  the  foul  betray  *. 

SONNET  V. 

AN  artlefs  youth,  who,  Gmple  in  his  love, 
Seem'd  little  hopeful  from  his  heart  to  fly, 
To  thee  that  heart,  O  lady !  nor  deny 
The  votive  gift  he  brings ;  fince  that  fhall  prove 
All  change,  and  fear,  and  falfity  above; 

*  The  Concetti  of  tie  Italian,  in  the  condition  of 
ibis  fennel,  iverefo  ibfinate,  that  it  feemed fcarc?  pcjji- 
ble  to  reduce  them  into  any  reputableform  of  tranjlation. 
Such  trifling  liberties  as  the  tratrftator  Jball  appear  to 
have  taken  ivitb  tbefe  poems,  muj}  be  imputed  ta  a  de- 
Jlie  of  getting  t^ver  bUtniJist  °f  tie  f~me  kind. 


Of  manners  that  to  gentle  deeds  eompljv 

And  courteous  will,  that  never  aflceth  why.  - 
Yet,  mild  as  is  the  never-wrathful  dove, 

Firmnefs  it  hath,  and  fortitude  to  bear 
The  wrecks  of  nature,  or  the  wrongs  of  fate  ;' 

From  envy  far,  and  low-defigning  care, 
And  hopes  and  fears  that  vulgar  minds  await ; 
With  the  fweet  mufe,  and  founding  lyre  elate, 

And  only  weak,  when  love  had  entrance  there. 

CANZON. 

GAY  youths  and  frolic  damfels  round  me  throng, 

And,  foiling,  fay,  why,   fhepherd,  wilt  thou 
write 

Thy  lays  of  love  advent'rous  to  recite 
In  unknown  numbers  and  a  foreign  tongue  ? 
Shepherd,  if  hope  hath  ever  wrought  thee  wrongv 

Afar  from  her  and  fancy's  fairy  light 
Retire— fo  they  to  fport  with  me  delight ; 
And  other  fhores,  they  fay,  and    other  ftreams 

Thy  prefence  wait ;  and  fweeteft  flowers  that 
blow, 

Their  ripening  blooms  referve  for  thy  fair  brow, 
Where  glory  foon  fhall  bear  her  brighteft  beams ; 
Thus  they,  and  yet  their  foothing  little  feems; 

If  (he,  for  whom  1  breathe  the  tender  vow, 
Sing  thefe  foft  lays,  and  afk  the  mutual  fong, 
This  is  thy  language,  love  and  I  to  thee  belong ! 

THE  FABLES  OF  FLORA. 

"  Sylvas,  faltufque  fequamur, 
"  Inta&os VIRG. 

To  ti>e  Countcfs  of  Hertford 
MADAM, 

THERE  is  a  tax  upon  the  name  of  the  CounteTs  of 
Hertford,  an  hereditary  obligation  to  patrohife 
the  mufes;  and  in  times  like  thefe,  when  their 
influence,  I  will  not  fay  their  reputation,.is  on  the 
decline,  they  can  by  no  means  difpenfe  with  fo 
eflential  a  privilege.  1  entreat  you,  Madam,  to 
take  the  following  poems  under  your  protection. 
They  were  written  with  an  unaffected  wifli  to 
promote  the  love  of  nature  and  the  interefts  of 
humanity.  On  the  credit  of  fuch  motives,  I  lay 
them  at  your  feet,  and  beg  to  be  efte«;med, 

Madam,  your  moft  devoted  and  moft  obedient 
fervant,     '  JOHN  LANGHORNE. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

IN  the  following  poems,  the  plan  of  fable  is  fome- 
what  enlarged,  and  the  province  fo  far  extended, 
that  the  original  narrative  and  moral  may  be  ac 
companied  with  imagery,  defcription,  and  fenti- 
ment.  The  fcenery  is  formed  in  a  department  of 
nature  adapted  to  the  genius  and  difpofition  of  po 
etry  ;  where  fhe  finds  new  objects,  interefts,  and 
connections,  to  exercife  her  fancy  and  her  pow 
ers.  If  the  execution,  therefore,  be  unfuccefsful, 
it  is  not  the  fault  of  the  plan,  but  of  the  poet. 

FABLE  I. 

THE  SUN-FLOWER   AND  THE  IVY. 

As  duteous  to  the  place  of  prayer, 
Within  the  convent's  lonely  walls, 


POEMS. 


The  holy  fifters  ftill  repair, 

What*time  the  rofy  morning  calls. 

So  fair  each  morn,  fo  full  of  grace, 
Within  their  little  garden  rear'd, 

The  flower  of  Phoebus  turn'd  her  face 
To  meet  the  power  fhe  lov'd  and  fear'd. 

And  where,  along  the  rifmg  fky, 
Her  god  in  brighter  glory  buin'd, 

Still  there  her  fond  obfervant  eye, 

And  there  her  golden  breaft  fhe  turn'd. 

When  calling  from  their  weary  height 
On  weftern  waves  his  beams  to  rell, ' 

Still  there  fhe  fought  the  parting  light, 
And  there  fhe  turn'd  her  golden  breaft.  > 

But  foon  as  night's  invidious  fhade 

Afar  his  lovely  looks  had  borne, 
"With  folded  leaves,  and  drooping  head; 

Full  fore  fhe  griev'd,  as  one  forlorn. 

Such  duty  in  a  flower  difplay'd, 

The  holy  fifters  fmil'd  to  fee, 
Forgave  the  pagan  rites  it  paid, 

And  lov'd  its  fond  idolatry. 

But  painful  ftill,  though  meant  for  kind, 
The  praife  that  falls  on  envy's  ear  ! 

O'er  the  dim  window's  arch  entwin'd, 
The  canker'd  ivy  chanc'd  to  hear. 

And  "  See,"  fhe  cry'd,  "  that  fpecious  flower, 
"  Whofe  flattering  bofom  courts  the  fun, 

"  The  pageant  of  a  gilded  hour, 

"  The  convent's  fimpje  hearts  hath  won ! 

"  Obfequious  meannefs !  ever  prone 
"  To  wateh  the  patron's  turning  eye ; 

"  No  will,  no  motion  of  its  own ! 

"  'Tis  this  they  love,  for  this  they  figh : 

*«  Go,  fplendid  fycophant !  no  more  t 
".  Difplay  thy  foft  fedu<ftive  arts ! 

"  The  flattering  clime  of  courts  explore, 
"  Nor  fpoil  the  convent's  fimple  hearts. 

"  To  me  their  praife  more  juftly  due, 
"  Of  longer  bloom  and  happier  grace ! 

*'  Whom  changing  months  unalter'd  view, 
"  And  find  them  in  my  fond  embrace." 

"  How  well,"  the  modeft  flower  reply'd, 

"  Can  envy's  wrefted  eye,  elude 
"  The  obvious  bounds  that  ftill  divide 

"  Foul  flattery  from  fair  gratitude. 

"  My  duteous  praife  each  hour  I  pay, 
"  For  few  the  hours  that  I  muft  live ; 

"  And  give  to  him  my  little  day, ' 

"  Whofe  grace  another  day  may  give. 

"  When  low  this  golden  form  fhall  fall, 
"  And  fpread  with  duft  its  parent  plain, 

"  That  duft  fhall  hear  his  genial  call, 
"  And  rife,  to  glory  rife,  again. 

"  To  thee,  my  gracious  pow'r,  to  thee 

"  My  love,  my  heart,  my  life,  are  due  ! 
"  Thy  goodnefs  gave  that  life  to  be, 
'     "  Thy  goodnefs  fliall  that  life  renew. 

«  Ah  me !  one  moment  from  thy  fight 
"  That  thus  my  truant-eye  fhould  ftray ! 


The  God  of  glory  fets  in  night ; 

"  His  faithlel'b  flower  has  loft  a  day." 

Sore  griev'd  the  flower,  and  droop'd  her  head ; 

And  fudden  tears  her  breaft  bedew'd  : 
Confenting.  tears  the  fifters  fhed, 

And,  wrapp'd  in  holy  wonder,  view'd. 

With  joy,  with  pious  pride  elate, 
"  Behold,''  the  aged  abbefs  cries, 

'  An  emblem  of  that  happier  fate, 
"  Which  Heav'n  to  all  but  us  denies. 

"  Our  hearts  no  fears  but  duteous  fears, 
"  No  charm  but  duty's  charm  can  move ; 

"  We  fhed  no  tears  but  holy  tears 
"  Of  tender  penitence  and  love. 

"  See  there  the  envious  world  pourtray'd 
"  In  that  dark  look,  that  creeping  pace ! 

"  No  flower  can  bear  the  ivy's  fhade, 
"  No  tree  fupport  its  cold  embrace. 

The  oak  that  rears  it  from  the  groundj 
"  And  bears  its  tendrils  to  the  flcies, 
"  Feels  at  his  heart  the  rankling  wound, 
"  And  in  its  pois'nous  arms  he  dies.1* 

Her  moral  thus  the  matron  read, 
Studious  to  teach  her  children  dear, 

And  they,  by  love  or  duty  led, 

With  pleafure  heard,  or  feem'd  to  hear. 

Yet  one  lefs  duteous,  not  lefs  fair, 
(In  convents  ftill  the  tale  is  known), 

The  fable  heard  with  filent  care, 
But  found  a  moral  of  her  own. 

The  flower  that  fmil'd  along  the  day, 
And  droop'd  in  tears  at  ev'ning's  fall, 

Too  well  fhe  found  her  life  difplay, 
Too  well  her  fatal  lot  recal. 

The  treacherous  ivy's  gloomy  ftrain, 
That  murder'd  what  it  moft  embrac'd, 

Too  well  that*.  :uel  fcene  convey'd, 
Which  all  her  fairer  hopes  efiac'd. 

Her  heart  with  Clent  horror  fhook, 
With  fighs  fhe  fought  her  lonely  cell ; 

To  the  dim  light  fhe  caft  one  look. 

And  bade  once  more  the  world  farewell, 

FABLE  II. 

THE  EVENING  PRIMROSE. 

THERE  are  that  love  the  fhades  of  life, 
And  fhun  the  fplendid  walks  of  fame ; 

There  are  that  hold  it  rueful  ftrife 
To  rifk  ambition's  lofmg  game : 

That,  far  from  envy's  lurid  eje, 
The  faireft  fruits  of  genius  rear, 

Content  to  fee  them  bloom  and  die 
In  friendfhip's  fmall,  but  kindly  fphen 

Than  vainer  flowers  though  fweeter  far. 
The  evening  primrofc  fhuns  the  day ; 

Blooms  only  to  the  weftern  ftar, 
And  loves  its  folitary  ray. 

In  Eden's  vale  an  aged  hind, 
At  the  dim  twilight's  doling  hour, 


i&  THE  "WORKS   OF 

On  his  time-fmoothed  ftaff  reclin'd, 

With  wonder  view'd  the  opening  flower. 

"  Ill-fated  flower,  at  eve  to  blow," 

In  pity's  fimple  thought  he  cries, 
"  Thy  bofom  muft  not  feel  the  glow 

"  Of  fplendid  funs,  or  jCmiling  fkies. 

**  Nor  thee,  the  vagrants  of  the  field, 

"  The  hamlet's  little  train  behold  ; 
"  Their  eyes  to  fweet  oppreffion  yield, 

«  When  thine  the  falling  fhades  unfold. 

•«  Nor  thce  the  hafly  fhepherd  heeds, 

«  When  lore  has  fill'd  his  heart  with  cares, 

"  For  flowers  he  rifles  all  the  meads, 

«'  Tor  waking  flowers — but  thine  forbears. 

"  Ah  !  wafte  no  more  that  beauteous  bloom 
«  On  night's  chill  fhade,  that  fragrant  breath, 

«'  Let  fmiling  funs  thofe  gems  illume  ! 
"  Fair  flower,  to  live  nnfeen  is  death." 

Soft  as  the  voice  of  vernal  gales, 

That  o'er  the  bending  meadow  blow, 

Or  ftreains  that  fteal  through  even  vales, 
And  murmur  that  they  move  fo  flow : 

Deep  in  her  unfrequented  bovver, 

Sweet  Philomela  peur'd  her  flrain ; 
The  bird  of  eve  approv'd  her  flower, 

And  anfwer'd  thus  the  anxious  fwaln : 

''i  '  Live  unfeen! 

By  moon-light  fiiades,  in  valleys  green^ 

Lovely  flower,  we'll  live  unfeen. 

Of  our  pleafures  deem  not  lightly, 

Laughing  day  may  look  more  fprightly, 

But  I  love  the  modeft  mien, 

Still  I  love  the  modeft  mien 
Of  gentle  evening  fair,  and' her  flar-trained  queen. 

Didft  thou,  fhepherd,  never  find 
Pleafure  is  of  penfive  kind  ? 
Has  thy  cottage  never  known 
That  flic  loves  to  live  alone  ? 
Doft  thou  not  at  everting  hour 
Feel  fome  foft  and  fecret  power, 
Gliding  o'er  thy  yielding  mind, 
Leave  fweet  ferenity  behind ; 
\Vhile,  all  difarm'd,  the  cares  of  day 
Steal  through  the  falling  gloom  away  ? 
Love  to  think  thy  lot  was  laid 
In  this  undiftinguifh'd  fhade. 
Far  from  the  world's  infectious  view, 
Thy  little  virtues  fafely  blew. 
Go,  and  in  day's  more  dangerous  hour 
Guard  thy  emblematic  flower. 

FABLE  III. 

THE  LAUREL  AND  THE  REED. 

THE  *  reed  that  once  the  fliepherd  blew 

On  cold  Cephifus'  hallow'd  fide, 
To  Sylla's  cruel  bow  apply'd, 

Its  inoffenfive  mafter  flew. 

*   The  reeis  on  the  tanks  of  tb?  Ceptiiftis,  ofvvkieb 
the  Jtepherds  made  tvcir  pipes,  Syllatfildiert  vfed  for 


LANGHORNE. 

Stay,  bloody  foldier,  ftay  thy  hand, 
Nor  take  the  fhepherd's  gentle  breath : 

Thy  rage  let  innocence  withftand ; 
Let  mufic  footh  the  third  of  death. 

He  frown'd — he  bade  the  arrow  fly— 
The  arrow  fmote  the  tuneful  fwain  ; 

No  more  its  tone  his  lip  (hall  try, 
Nor  wake  its  vocal  foul  again. 

Cephifus,  from  his  fedgy  urrt, 

With  woe  beheld  the  fanguine  deed  : 

He  mourn'd,  and  as  they  heard  him  mourn, 
Affenting,  figh'd  each  trembling  reed. 

"  Fair  offspring  of  my  waves,"  he  cry'd, 
"  That  bind  my  brows,  my  banks  adorn  ; 

"  Pride  of  the  plains,  the  rivers'  pride, 
"  For  mufic,  peace,  and  beauty  born  ! 

"  Ah,  what  unheedful  have  we  done  ? 

"  What  demons  here  in  death  delight  ? 
"  What  fiends  that  curfe  the  focial  fun  ? 

"  What  furies  of  infernal  night  ? 

"  See,  fee  my  peaceful  fhepherds  bleed ! 

"  Each  heart  in  harmony  that  vy'd, 
"  Smote  by  its  own  melodious  reed, 

"  Lies  cold  along  my  blufhing  fide. 

"  Back  to  yotlr  urn,  my  waters,  fly, 
"  Or  find  in  earth  fome  fecret  way; 

"  For  horror  dims  yon  confcious  fky, 
'«  And  hell  has  iffued  into  day." 

Through  Delphi's  holy  depth  of  fhade 

The  fympathetic  forrows  ran ; 
While  in  his  dim  and  mournful  glade 

The  genius  of  her  groves  began. 

"  In  vain  Cephifus  fighs  to  fave 

"  The  fwain  that  loves  h>$  wat'ry  mead, 
"  And  weeps  to  fee  his  reddening  wave, 

"  And  mourns  for  his  perverted  reed : 

"  In  vain  my  violated  groves 

"  Muft  1  with  equal  grief  bewail, 

<<  While  defolation  fternly  roves, 
"  And  bids  the  fanguine  hand  affail. 

"  God  of  the  genial  ftream,  behold 
"  My  laurel  fhades  of  leaves  fo  bare ! 

"  Thofe  leaves  no  poet's  brows  unfold, 
"  Nor  bind  Apollo's  golden  hair. 

"  Like  thy  fair  offspring,  mifapply'd, 
"  Far  other  purpofe  they  Aipply  ; 

"  The  murderer's  burning  cheek  to  hide,- 
"  And  on  his  frownful  temples  die. 

"  Yet  deem  not  thefe  of  Pluto's  race, 
"  Whom  wounded  nature  fues  in  vain  ; 

"  Pluto  difclaims  the  dire  difgrace, 

"  And  cries,  indignant,—"  They  are  men." 

FABLE  IV. 

THE  GARDEN  ROSE  AND  THE  WILD  ROSE. 

As  Dee,  whofe  current,  free  from  ftain, 
Glides  fair  o'er  Merioneth's  plain, 
By  mountains  forc'd  his  way  to  fteer 
Along  the  lake  of  Pimble  Merc, 


P    O    E    M    S. 


Darts  fwiftly  through  the  ftagnant  mafs, 
His  waters  trembling  as  they  pafs, 
And  leads  his  lucid  waves  below, 
Unmix'd,  unfullied  as  they  flow- 
So  clear  through  life's  tumultuous  tide, 
So  free  could  thought  and  fancy  glide  ; 
Could  hope  as  fprightly  hold  her  courle, 
As  firft  (lie  left  her  native  iburce, 
Unfought  in  her  romantic  cell 
The  keeper  of  her  dreams  might  dwell. 

But  ah  ;  they  will  not,  will  not  laft— 
When  life's  firft  fairy  ftage  is  part, 
The  glowing  hand  of  hope  is  cold  ; 
And  fancy  lives  not  to  be  old. 
Darker,  and  darker  all  before, 
We  turn  the  former  profpedt  o'er; 
And  find  in  memory's  faithful  eye 
Our  little  ftock  of  pleafures  lie. 

Come  then,  thy  kind  recefles  ope! 
Fair  keeper  of  the  dreams  of  hope  ! 
Come  with  thy  vifionary  train  ; 
And  bring  my  morning  fcenes  again ! 

To  Enon's  wild  and  filent  fliade, 
Where  oft  my  lonely  youth  was  laid ; 
What  time  the  woodland  genius  came, 
And  touch'd  me  with  his  holy  flame.— 

Or,  where  the  hermit,  Bela,  leads 

Her  waves  through  folitary  meads ; 

And  only  feeds  the  defert  flewer. 

Where  once  fhe  footh'd  my  flumb'ring  hour ; 

Or  rous'd  by  Stainmore's  wint'ry  fky, 

She  wearies  Echo  with  her  cry ; 

And  oft,  what  ftorms  her  bofom  tear, 

Her  deeply-wounded  banks  declare- 
Where  Eden's  fairer  waters  flow, 

By  Milton's  bower,  or  Ofty's  brow, 

Or  Brokley's  alder-fliaded  cave, 

Or  winding  round  the  druid's  grave, 

Silently  glide  with  pious  fear, 

To  found  his  holy  flumbers  near.— 

To  thefe  fair  fcenes  of  fancy's  reign, 
O  memory  !  bear  me  once  again  : 
For,  when  life's  varied  fcenes  are  paft, 
*Tis  fimple  nature  charms  at  laft, 
'Twas  thus  of  old  a  poet  pray'd  ; 
•   Th'  indulgent  pow'r  his  prayer  approv'd, 
And,  ere  the  gather'd  rofe  could  fade, 

Reftor'd  him  to  the  fcenes  he  lov'd. 

A  rofe,  the  poet's  fav'rite  flower, 

From  Flora's  cultur'd  walks  he  bore  ; 

No  fairer  bloom  in  Elher's  bower, 
Nor  Prior's  charming  Chloe  wore. 

No  fairer  flowers  could  fancy  twine 

To  hide  Anacreon's  fnowy  hair  : 
For  there  Almeria's  bloom  divine, 

And  Elliot's  fweeteft  blufh  was  there. 
When  flie,  the  pride  of  courts,  retires, 

And  leaves  for  (hades,  a  nation's  love, 
With  awe  the  village  maid  admires. 

How Waldegrave  looks,  how  Waldegrave  moves, 
So  marvell'd  much  in  Enon's  fliade 

The  flowers  that  all  uncultur'd  grew, 
When  there  the  fplendid  rofe  dit'play'-d 

Hpr  fweiling  breaft,  and  fliining  hue. 


Yet  one,  that  oft  adorn'd  the  place 
Where  now  her  gaudy  rival  reign'd, 

Of  limpler  bloom,  but  kindred  race. 
The  penlive  Eglantine  complain'd. — 

"  Miftaken  youth,"  with  fighs  (he  faid, 
"  From  nature  and  from  me  to  ftray  ! 

"  The  bard,  by  fplendid  forms  betray 'd, 
"  No  more  fliall  frame  the  purer  ray. 

"  Luxuriant,  like  the  flaunting  rofe, 
"  And  gay  the  brilliant  ftrains  may  be, 

"  But  far  in  beauty,  far  from  thofe, 
"  That  flowed  to  nature  and  to  me." 

The  poet  felt,  with  fond  furprife, 
The  truths  the  fylvan  critic  told ; 

And  "  though  this  courtly  rofe,"  he  cries, 
"  Is  gay,  is  beauteous  to  behold  ; 

"  Yet,  lovely  flower,  I  find  in  thee 

'«  Wild  fweetnefs  which  no  words  cxprefs, 

"  And  charms  in  thy  fimplicity, 

"  That  dwell  not  in  the  pride  of  drefs." 

FABLE  V. 

THE  VIOLET  AND  THE  PANST. 

SHEPHERD,  if  near  thy  artlefs  breaft 

The  god  of  fond  defires  repair ; 
Implore  him  for  a  gentle  gucft, 

Implore  him  with  unwearied  prayer. 

Should  beauty's  foul-enchanting  fmile, 
Love-kindling  looks,  and  features  gay. 

Should  thefe  thy  wand'ring  eye  beguile, 
And  fteal  thy  warelefs  heart  away ; 

That  heart  fliall  foon  with  forrow  fwell, 
And  fo»n  the  erring  eye  deplore, 

If  in  the  beauteous  bofom  dwell 
No  gentle  virtue's  genial  ftore. 

Far  from  his  hive  one  Summer  day, 
A  young  and  yet  unpradtts'd  bee, 

Borne  on  his  tender  wings  away, 
Went  forth  the  flowery  world  to  fee. 

The  morn,  the  noon  in  play  he  pafs'd, 

But  when  the  fliades  of  ev'ning  came, 
No  parent  brought  the  due  repaft, 

And  faintnefs  feiz'd  his  little  frame., 
By  nature  urg'd,  by  inftindl  led, 

The  bofom  of  a  flower  he  fought, 
Where  dreams  mourn'd  round  a  mofly  bed, 

And  violets  all  the  bank  enwrought. 

Of  kindred  race,  but  brighter  dyes,  . 

On  that  fair  bank  a  panfy  £rew, 
That  borrow'd  from  indulgent  Ikies 

A  velvet  (hade  and  purple  hue. 
The  tints  that  ftream'd  with  glofiy  gold, 

The  velvet  fiiade,  the  purplt  hue, 

e  ftranger  wonder'd  to  behold, 

And  to  its  beauteous  bofom  flew. 
Not  fonder  hafte  thr  lover  fpeeds, 

At  evening's  fall,  his  fair  to  meet. 
When  o'er  the  hardly-bending  meads 

He  fprings  on  more  tluv  m  <ttal  test ; 
R  » 


THE  WORKS  OF  LANGHORNE. 


Nor  slows  his  eye  with  brighter  glee, 
When  ftealing  near  her  orient  brsaft  ; 

'I'll  n  feh  the  fond  enamour'd  bee, 
When  firft  the  golden  bloom  he  preft. 

Ah  !  pity  much  his  youth  untried, 

His  heart  in  beauty's  magic  fpell ! 
So  never  paflion  fhf  e  betide, 

But  where  the  genial  virtues  dwell. 

In  vain  he  feeks  thofe  virtues  there  ; 

fco  foul-fuftaining  charms  abound  ; 
No  honey'd  fiveetnefs  to  repair 

The  languid  wafte  of  life  is  found. 

An  aged  bee,  whofe  labours  led 

Through  thofe  fair  fprings,  and  meads  of  gold, 
His  feeble  wing,,  his  drooping  head 
^  Beheld,  and  pity'd  to  behold. 

"  Fly,  fond  adventurer,  fly  the  art 

'*  That  courts  thine  eye  with  fair  attire  ; 

"  Who  t'miles  to  win  the  heedlefs  heart, 

"  Will  fmile  to  fee  that  heart' expire.        v   .' 

"  This  modeft  flower  of  humbler  Jiue, 

"  That  boalb  no 'depth  of  gfowing  dyes, 
.  "  Array'd  in  unbefpangled  blue, 

"  The  fJtnple  clothing  of  the  flues — 

"  This  flower,  with  balmy  fweetnefs  b.left, 
"  May  yet  thy  languid  life  renew  ;" 

He  faid,  and,  to  the  violet's  breaftj 
The  little  vagrant  faintly  flew. 

FABLE  VI. 

THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  MEADOW  AND  THE  CROWN 
IMPERIAL. 

FROM  Baclria's  vales,  where  beauty  blows 

Luxuriant  in  the  genial  day  : 
Where  flowers  a  bolder  gem  difclofe, 

And  deeper  drink  the  golde'n  ray  : 

From  Baclria's  vales  to  Britain's  fhure 
What  trme  the  crown  imperial  came, 

Full  high  the  ftately  ftranger  bore 
The  honours  of  his  birth  and  name. 

In  all  the  pomp  of  eaftern  flate, 

In  all  the'eatfern  gWy  gay, 
He  bade,  with  native  pride  elate, 

Each  flower  of  humbler  birth  obey. 

O,  that  the  child  unborn  might  hear, 

Hor  hold  it  Itrange  in  diftant  time, 
That  freedom  evew  to  flowers  was  dear, 

T'i  flowers  that  bloom'd  in  Britain's  clime  I 

1  hrough  purple  meads,  "and  fpicy  gales, 
Where  Strynion's  *  filver  waters  play, 

While  f.;r  fnvn  henre  their  god'.'efs  dwells, 
She  rules  with  delegated  fvvay. 

That  fway  the  crown  imperial  fought, 
With  high 'demand  and  haiighty  mien  : 

But  equal  claim  a  rival  brought,  i 

A  rival,  call'd  the  meadow's  queen. 

*  The  Ionian  Strymon. 


"  In  climes  of  orient  glory  born, 

"  Where  beauty  firft  and  empire  grew  ; 

"  Where  firft  unfolds  the  golden  morn, 
"  Where  richer  falls  the  fragrant  dew  : 

"  In  light's  ethereal  beauty  dreft, 

"  Behold,"  he  cried,  "  the  favour'd  flower, 
"  Which  Flora's  high  commands  inyeft 

"  With  enfigns  of  imperial  power  ! 

"  Where  proftrate  vales,  and  blufliing  meads,      . 

"  And  bending  mountains  own  his  fway, 
"  While  Perfia's  lord  his  empire-leads, 

"  And  bids  the  trembling  world  obey ; 

"  While  blood  bedews  the  ftraining  bow, 
"  And  conqueft  rends  the  fcatter'd  air, 

"  'Tis  mine  to  bind  the  victor's  brow, 
"  And  reign  in  envied  glory  there  : 

"  Then  lowly  bow,  ye  Britifh  flowers ! 

"  Confefs  your  monarch's  mighty  fway, 
"  And  own  the  only  glory  yours, 

"  When  fear  flies  trembling  to  obey." 

Ke  faid*,  and  fudden  o'er  the  plain, 
From  flower  .to  flower  a  murmur  ran; 

With  modeft  air,  and  milder  ftrain, 
When  thus  the  meadow's  queen  began. 

"  If  vain  of  birth,  of  glory  vain, 

"  Or  fond  to  bear  a  regal  name, 
"  The  pride  of  folly  brings  difdain, 

"  And  bids  me  urge  a  tyrant's  claim  : 

•'  If  war  my  peaceful  realms  affail, 
"  And  then,  unmov'd  by  pity's  call, 

<c  I  fmile  to  fee  the  bleeding  vale, 
"  Or  feel  one  joy  in  nature's  fall : 

"  Then  may  each  juftly  vengeful  flewer 
"  Purfue  her  queen  with  generous  ftrife, 

"  Nor  leave  the  hand  of  lawlefs  power 
"  Such  compafson  the  fcale  of  life. 

"  One  fimple  virtue  all  my  pride  ! 

"  The  wifh  that  flies  to  mifery's  aid  ; 
"  The  balm  that  ftops  the  crimfon  tide  f 

"  And  heals  the  wound  that  war  has  made." 

1'heir  free  confent  by  zephyrs  borne, 
The  flowers  their  meadow's  queen  obey ; 

And  fairer  blufhes  crown'd  the  morn, 
And  fweeter  fragrance  fiil'd  the  day. 


FABLE  VII. 

THE    WALL-FLOW£R. 

-l  WHY  loves  my  flower,  the  fweeteft  flower 
"  That  fwells  the  golden  breaft  of  May, 

"  Thrown  rudely  o'er  this  ruin'd  tower, 
"  To  wafte  her  iblitary  day  ? 

"  Why,  when  the  mead,  the"  fpicy  vale,  • 
"  The  grove  and  genial  garden  call, 

"  Will  fhe  her  fragrant  foul  exhale, 
"  Unheeded  on  the  lonely  wall  ? 


f  The  property  o 


POEMS. 


*  For  never  fare  was  beauty  born 
"  To  Kve  in  death's  deferted  fliade  ! 

*'  Come,  lovely  flower,  my  banks  adorn, 
**  My  banks  for  life  and  beauty  made.'' 

Thus  pity  wak'd  the  tender  thought, 

And  by  her  fweet  perfuafion  led, 
To  feifce  the  hermit-flower  I  fought, 

And  bear  her  from  her  ftony  bed. 

I  fought — but  fudden  on  mine  ear 
A  voice  in  hollow  murmurs  broke, 

And  Cniote  my  he.art  with  holy  fear — 
The  genius  of  the  ruin  fpoke. 

*'  From  thee  be  far  th'  ungentle  deed, 
"  The  honours  of  the  dead  to  fpoil, 

"  Or  take  the  fole  remaining  meed, 

*'  The  flower  that  crowns  their  former  toil! 

"  Nor  deem  that  flower  the  garden's  foe, 
"  Or  fond  to  graca  this  barren  fliade  ; 

"  'Tis  nature  tells  her  to  bellow 
"  Her  honours  on  the  lonely  dead. 

"  For  this  obedient  zephyrs  bear 

"  Her  light  feeds  round  yon  turret's  mold, 

"  And  undifpers'd  by  tempefts  there, 
"  They  rile  in  vegetable  gold. 

"  N»r  fhall  thy  Bonder  wake  to  fee 
"  Such  defert  fcenes  diftinchon  crave; 

"  Oft  have  they  been,  and  oft  fhall  be 

"  Truth's,  honour's,  valour's,  beauty's  grave. 

"  Where  longs  to  fall  that  rifted  fpire, 

"  As  weary  uf  th'  infulting  air ; 
"  The  poet's  thought,  the  warrior's  fire, 

"  The  lover's  fighs  are  fleeping  there, 

<c  When  that  too  fhakes  the  trembling  ground, 
"  Borne  down  by  fome  tempeltuous  fky, 

"  And  many  a  flumb'ring  cottage  round 
"  Startles — how  (till  their  hearts  will  lie  ! 

•'  Of  them  who,  wrapt  in  earth  fo  cold, 
"  No  more  the  froiling  day  fhall  view, 

"  Should'  many  a  tender  tale  be  told ; 
':  For  many  a  tender  thought  is  due. 

•'  Haft  thou  not  feen  fome  lover  pale, 

"  When  evening  brought  the  penlive  hour, 

"  Step  flowly  o'er  the  fliadowy  vale, 

"  And  Itop  to  pluck  the  frequent  flower  ? 

"  Thofe  flowers  he'furely  meant  to  ftrew 

"  On  loft  affection's  lowly  cell ; 
'*  Though  there,  as  fond  remembrance  grew, 

"  Forgotten,  from  his  hand  they  fell. 

"  Has  not  for  thee  the  fragrant  thorn 
"  Been  taught  her  firlt  rote  to  refign  ? 

"  With  vain  but  pious  fondnefs  borne 
"  To  deck  thy  Nancy's  honour'd  flirine  I 

"  'Tis  nature  pleading  in  the  breaft, 
"  Fair  memory  of  her  works  to  find; 

"  And  when  to  fate  (he  yields  the  reft, 
"  She  claims  the  monumental  mind. 

"  Why,  eife,  the  o'ergrown  p.iths  of  time 
"  Woulu  thus  the  letter'd  fage  explore, 

w  Witn  pain  thefe  crum  ling  ruins  climb, 
"  And  on  the  doubtful  fciripture  pore  ? 


"   VVhy  feeks  he  with  unwearied  toil 

"  Through  death's  dim  walks  to  urge  his  way, 
"  Reclaim  his  long-aflerted  fpoil, 

"   And  lead  oblivion  into  day  ? 

"  'Tis  nature  prompts,  by  toil  or  fear 

<c   Unmov'd,  to  range  through  death's  domain  : 

*'  The  tender  parent  loves  to  hear 
"  Her  childrens'  Itory  told  again. 

'<  Treat  not  with  foorn  his  thoughtful  hours, 
"  If  haply  near  thefe  haunts  he  ftray  ; 

:<  Nor  take  the  fair  enlivening  flowers 
"  That  bloom  to  cheer  his  lonely  way." 

FABLE  VIII. 

THE  TULIP  AND  THE  MYRTLE  *. 

'TWAS  on  the  border  of  a  ftream 

A  gaily-painted  tuUpileod, 
And,  gilded  Jby  the  morning  beam, 

Survey'd  her  beautiesin  the  flood. 

And  fure,  more  lovely  to  behold, 
Might  nothing  meet  the  iviftful  eye, 

Than  crimfon  fading  into  gold, 
In  ftreaks  of  fairer  fymmetry' 

The  beauteous  flower,  with  pride  elate. 
Ah  me.!  that  pride  with  beauty  dwells  1 

Vainiy  affects  fuperior  ftale,  " 
And  thus  in  empty  fancy  fwells. 

"  O  luftre  of  unrivall'd  bloom  ! 

'*  Fair  painting  of  a  hand  divine  '. 
"   Superior  far  to  mortal  d.;om, 

"  The  hues  of  heaven  alone  are  mine  '. 

"  Away,  ye  worthlefs,  fornilefs  race  ! 

"   Ye  weeds,  that  boaft  the  nnme  of  flowers 
"  'No  more  my  native  bed  diigrace, 

"  Unmeet  for  tribes  id  mean  as  yours '. 

•"  Shall  the  bright  daughter  of  the  fun 
"  Aflbciate  with  the  flmibs  of  earth  ? 

"  Ye  flaves,  jour  lowreigm'l  urefence  ihun  1 
"  Rfclpecl  her  beauties  and  her  bifth. 

"   And  thou.  dull,  futlen  evergreen  ! 

"  Shalt  thou,  my  ihiuing  I'phere  invacJe, 
"  My  noon-day  beauties  beam  unfeen,       ^ 

"  Ob'fcur'd  beneath  thy  duiky  (hade  I" 

"  Deluded  flower'."  the  myrtle  cries, 
"  Shall  we  thy  inoi'.ient's  bl  >om  adore  ? 

"  The  meanell  Shrub  that  you  delpife,  • 
«'  The  meaneit" flower  has  merit  more. 

;'  That  d\ify,  in  its  Gmt-le  bloom, 
"    "  Shall  lait  alon^  rhe  changing  yeir  ; 
"  Blufli  on  tht  l'iio»v  of  winter's  gloom, 
"   And  bid  thr  fmiling  fpnng'apiieiir.    ^ 

'  The  violet  that,  thofe  banks  beneath, 
"  Hides  from  thy  f-  »rn  itb  niodcft  h°ad, 

'•  Shall  till  the  air  with  fr.i^-anr  br^atti, 
"  When  thou  ait  m  th>  dcfty  bed. 


*  This  fable  w,  ./•    '.'.-/*  T' 

b<-t..etn  St. 
Evfemond -c 

R  uij  • 


»<54       .  THEWORKS 

"  Ev'n  I,  who  boaft  no  golden  (hade, 
*'  Am  of  no  Ihining  tints  pofiefs'd, 

"  When  low  thy  lucid  form  is  laid, 

"  Shall  bloom  on  many  a  lovely  breaft. 

*'  And  he,  whofe  kind  and  foftering  care 
*'  To  thee,  to  me,  our  beings  gave, 

"  Shall  near  his  breaft  my  flowrets  wear, 
"  And  walk  regardlefs  o'er  thy  grave. 

"  Deluded  flower,  the  friend'y  fcreen 

"  That  hides  thee  from  the  noon-tide  ray, 

"  And  mocks  thy  paflion  to  be  leen, 
"  Prolongs  the  tranfitory  day. 

"  But  kindly  deeds  with  fcorn  repaid, 
"  No  more  by  virtue  need  be  done  ; 

"  I  now  withdraw  my  dufky  fliade, 
"  And  yield  thee  to  thy  darling  fon." 

Fierce  on  the  flower  the  fcorchingbeam 
With  'all  its  weight  of  glory  fell ; 

The  flower  exulting  caught  the  gleam, 
And  lent  its  leaves  a  bolder  fmell. 

Expanded  by  the  fearching  fire, 

The  eurling  leaves  the  breaft  difclos'd  : 

The  mantling  bloom  was  painted  higher, 
And  every  latent  charm  expos'd. 

But  when  the  fun  was  Hiding  low, 

And  evening  came,  with  dews  fo  cold  j 

The  wanton  beauty  ceas'd  to  blow, 
And  fought  her  bending  leaves  to  fold. 

Thofe  leaves,  alas !  no  more  would  clofe ; 

Relax'd,  exhaufted,  fickening,  pale  ; 
They  left  her  to  a  parent's  w,oes, 

And  fled  before  the  rifing  gale. 

FABLE  IX. 

THE  BEE-FLOWER*. 

COME,  let  us  leave  this  painted  plain; 

This  walte  of  flowers  that  palls  the  eye  : 
The  walks  of  nature's  wilder  reign 

Shall  pleafe  in  plainer  majefty. 

Through  thofe  fair  fcenes,  where  yet  (he  owes 
Superior  charms  to  Brockman's  ait, 

Where,  crown'd  with  elegant  repofe, 
He  cherifhes  the  focial  heart  — 

Through  thofe  fair  fcenes  we'll  wander  wild, 
And  on  yon  pafture  mountains  reft  ; 

Come,  brother  dear  !  come,  nature's  child  I 
With  all  her  fimple  virtues  bleft. 


*  This  is  afpecies  of  the  Orchis,  which  is  found 
in  the  barren  and  mountainous  farts  of  Lincoln- 
fiire,  Worcefterjlnre,  Kent,  and  Hertford/hire. 
Nature  has  formed  a  bee  Apparently  feeding  on 
the  breaft  of  the  floiver  with  Jo  much  exafinefs, 
that  it  is  impojjible  at  a  very  fmall  diftance  to 
dijl'mguijlj  the  imfofition.  For  this  purpofe,  fie 
has  objerved  an  economy  different  from  u'fjat  is 
found  in  mojl  other  flowers,  and  has  laid  the  petals 
horizontally.  The  genius  of  the  Orchis,  or  Saty- 
rion,  Jbe  feems  profe/J'edly  to  have  made  ufe  of  for 
her  paintings,  and  on  the  different  fpecies  has 
drawn  the  perfea  forms  of  different  infers,  fitch 
iai  beestjliest  butterflies,  &e. 


OF   LANGHORNE.  ., 

The  fun  far-feen  on  diftant  towers, 

And  clouding  groves  and  peopled  feas, 
And  ruins  pale  of  princely  bowers 

On  Beachborough's  airy  heights  (hall  pleafe. 
Nor  lifelefs  there  the  lonely  fcene; 

The  little  labourer  of  the  hive, 
From  flower  to  flower,  from  green  to  green, 

Murmurs,  and  makes  the  wild  alive. 
See,  on  that  flowret's  velvet  breaft 

How  clofe  the  bufy  vagrant  lies'.  . 
His  thin-wrought  plume,  his  downy  breaft. 

The  ambrofial  gold  that  fwells  his  thighs'. 
Regardlefs,  whilft  we  wander  near. 

Thrifty  of  time,  his  tafk  he  plies; 
Or  fees  he  no  intruder  near, 

And  refts  in  fleep  his  weary  eyes. 
Perhaps  his  fragrant  load  may  bind 

His  limbs; — we'll  fet  the  captive  free— 
I  fought  the  living  bee  to  find, 

And  found  the  piclure  of  a  bee. 
Attentive  to  our  trifling  felves, 

From  thence  we  plan  the  rule  of  all ; 
Thus  nature  with  the  fabled  elves 

We  rank,  and  theie  her  fports  we  call. 
Be  far,  my  friends,  from  you,  from  me, 

Th'  unhallow'd  term,  the  thought  profane, 
That  life's  majeftic  fource  may  be 

In  idle  fancy's  trifling  vein. 

Remember  ftill,  'tis  nature's  plan 

Religion  in  your  love  to  find  ; 
And  know,  for  this,  fhe  firft  in  man 

Infpir'd  the  imitative  mind. 
As  confcious  that  affection  grows, 

Pleab'd  with  the  pencil's  mimic  power  *j 
That  power  with  leading  hand  flie  fhows. 

And  paints  a\>ee  upon  a  flower. 
Mark,  how  that  rooted  mandrake  wears 

His  human  feet  his  human  hands  1 
Oft,  as  his  Iliapely-form  he  tears, 

Aghaft  the  frighted  ploughman  Hands. 
See  where,  in  yonder  orient  ftone, 

She  feems  ev'n  with  herfelf  at  ftrife, 
While  fairer  from  her  hand  is  fliown 

The  piclur'd,  than  the  native  lite. 
Helvetia's  rocks,  Sabrina's  waves, 

Still  many  a  fhimng  pebble  bear, 
Where  oft  her  ftudious  hand  engraves 

The  perfect  form  and  leaves  it  there. 
O  long,  my  Paxton  f,  bosrft  her  art ; 

And  long  her  love  of  laws  fulfil : 
To  thee  flic  gave  her  hand  and  heart. 

To  thee,  her  k,indnefs  and  her  ikill  [ 

FABLE  X. 


[N  yonder  green  wood  blows  the  broom  ; 
Shepherds,  we'll  truft  our  flocks  to  ftray, 

*  The   well  known  Fables  of  the  Painter  and, 
'tatuary  that  fell  in  love  with  objt£is  of  their  OVTI 
creation,  plainly  arofe  from  the  idea  of  that  at 
tachment,  'which  follows  the  imitation  of  agree 
able  objffis,  to  the  oiijefis  imitated. 
f  An  ingenious  for  trait  fainter  in  RathbwePlaci, 


POEMS, 


Court  nature  iu  her  fwecteft  bloom, 
And  fteal  from  care  one  fummer-day. 

From  him  *  whofe  gay  and  graceful  brow 
Fair-handed  Hume  with  rofes  binds, 

We'll  learn  to  breathe  the  tender  vow, 
Where  flow  the  fairy  Fortha  winds. 

And  oh  !  that  he  f  whofe  gentle  bread 
In  nature's  fofteft  mould  was  macie> 

Who  left  her  fmiling  works  impreft 
Jn  characters  that  cannot  fade ; 

That  he  might  leave  his  lowly  fhrine, 
Though  ibfter  there  the  feafons  fall— 

They  come,  the  fons  of  verfe  divine, 
They  come  to  fancy's  magic  cell. 

— "  What  airy  founds  invite 

"  My  fteps  not  unreluctant,  from  the  depth 

"  Of  Shene's  delightful  groves?  Re pofing  there, 
No  more  1  hear  the  bufy  voice  of  men 
Far-toiling  o'er  the  globe — fave  to  the  call 
Of  foul-exalting  poetry,  the  ear 
Of  death  denies  attention.  Rous'd  by  her, 
The  genius  of  fepulchral  filence  opes 
His  drowfy  cells,  and  yields  us  to  the  day. 
For  thee,    whofe    hand,  whatever  paints  the 

"  Spring, 

Or  fwells  on  Summer's  breaft,  or  loads  the  lap 
Of  Autumn,  gathers  heedful— Thee  whofe  rites 
At  nature's  flirine  with  holy  care  are  paid 
Daily  and  nightly  ;  beughs  of  brighteft  green, 
And  every  faireft  rofe,  the  god  of  groves, 
The  queen  of  flowers,  fhall  fweeter  fave  for  thee, 
Yet  not  if  beauty  only  claim  thy  lay, 
Tunefully  trifling.  Fair  philofophy, 
And  nature's  love,  and  every  moral  charm 
That  leads  in  fweet  captivity  the  mind 
To  virtue — ever  in  thy  neareft  cares 
Be  thefe,  and  animate  thy  Jiving  page 
With  truth  refiftlefs,  beaming  from  the  fource 
Of  perfect  light  immortal — Vainly  boafts 
That  golden  broom  its  funny  robe  of  flowers  t 
Fair  are  the  funny  flowers;  but,  fading  foon 
And  fruitlefs,  yield  the  forefter's  regard 
To  the  well-loaded  wilding — Shepherd,  there 
Behold  the  fate  of  fong,  and  lightly  deem 

"  Of  all  but  moral  beauty." 
"  Not  in  vain" — . 

I  hear  my  Hamilton  reply 

(The  torch  of  fancy  in  his  eye), 

"  'Tis  not  in  vain,'1 1  hear  him  fay, 

''  That  nature  paints  her  works  fo  gay ; 

*'  For,  fruitlefs  though  that  fairy  broom, 

"  Yet  ftill  we  love  her  lavifh  bloom. 

"  Cheer'd  with  that  bloom,  yon  defert  wild 

"  Its  native  horrors  loft,  and  fmil'd. 

"  And  oft  we  mark  her  golden  ray, 

"  Along  the  dark  wood  fcatter  day. 
"  Of  moral  ufes  take  the  ftrife  ; 

"  Leave  me  the  elegance  of  life. 

"  Whatever  charms  the  ear  or  eye, 

"  All  beauty  and  all  harmony  ; 

"  If  fweet  fenfations  they  produce, 

*'  I  know  they  have  their  moral  ufe. 

"  I  know  that  nature's  charms  can  move 

**.  The  fprings  that  ftrike  to  virtue's  love." 

*  William  Hamilton  ofBangour, 
f  TboinfoTi. 


FABLE  XL 


THE  MIStETOE  AND  THE  PASSION-FLOWER* 

IN  this  dim  care  a  druid  deeps, 

Where  (tops  the  paffing  gale  to  moan; 
The  rock  he  hollow'd,  o'er  him  weeps, 

And  cold  drops  wear  the  fretted  ftone. 
In  this  dim  cave,  of  different  creed, 

An  hermit's  holy  amesreft  \ 
The  fchool-boy  finds  the  frequent  bead, 

Which  many  a  formal  matin  bleft. 

That  truant-time  full  well  I  know, 

When  here  I  brought,  in  ftolen  hour. 
The  druid's  magic  mifletoe, 

The  holy  hermit's  paflion-flower. 
The  offerings  on  the  myftic  ftone 

Penfive  I  laid,  in  thought  profound, 
When  from  the  cave  a  deep'ning  groan 

Iffued,  and  froze  me  to  the  ground. 

I  hear  it  ftill—Doft  thou  not  hear  ? 

Does  not  thy  haunted  fancy  ftart  ? 
The  found  ftill  vibrates  through  mine  ear--. 

The  horror  rulhes  on  my  heart. 

Unlike  to  living  founds  it  came, 

Unmix'.d,  unmelodiz'd  with  breath ; 
But,  grinding  through  fome  fcrannel  frame, 

Creak'd  from  the  bony  lungs  of  death. 
I  hear  it  ftil! — "  Depart,"  it  cries  : 

*«  No  tribute  bear  to  (hades  unbleft  » 
"  Know,  here  a  bloody  drnid  lies, 

"  Who  was  not  nurs'd  at  nature's  breaft. 

"  Aflbciate  he  with  demons  dire, 

'*  O'er  human 'victims  held  the  knife, 

"  And  pleas'd  to  fee  the  babe  expire, 
«*  Smil'd  grimly  o'er  its  quivering  life. 

"  Behold  his  crimfon-ftreaming  hand 
"  Erect  1 — his  dark,  fix'd,  murd'rous  eye  I** 

In  the  dim  cave  I  faw  him  ftand  ; 
And  my  heart  died — I  felt  it  die. 

I  fee  him  ftill — Doll  thou  not  fee 
The  haggard  eyeball's  hollow  glare  ? 

And  gleams  of  wild  ferocity 
Dart  through  the  fable  made  of  hair? 

What  meagre  form  behind  him  moves, 
With  eye  that  rues  th*  invading  day ; 

And  wrinkled  afpect  wan,  that  proves 
The  mind  to  pale  remorfe  a  prey  ? 

What  wretched — Hark  '—the  voice  replies, 

"  Boy,  bear  thefe  idle  honours  hence ! 
"  For,  here  a  guilty  hermit  lies 

"  Untrue  to  nature,  virtue,  fenfe. 
"  Though  nature  lent  him  powers  to  aid 

"  The  moral  caufe,  the  mutual  weal ; 
"  Thofe  powers  ha  funk  in  this  dim  fliade^ 

•«  The  defperate  fukide  of  zeal. 

"  Go,  teach  the  drone  of  faintly  haunts, 
11  Whofe  cell's  tlie  fepulchre  of  time ; 

"  Though  many  a  holy  hymn  he  chauuM, 
'  His  life  is  one  continued  crime. 

"  And  bear  them  hence,  the  plant,  the  flower  $ 
»  No  fymbols  thofe  of  fyftems  vain  ! 


THE  WORKS  OF  LANGHORNE. 


160 

"  They  have  the  duties  of  their  hour; 
"  Some  bird,  fonae  infect,  to  fultain." 

[I»  Kirkby-Stephen  church-yard  is  the  following 
monumental  infcription,  which,  from  the  ftrain 
of  modefty, filial  piety,  and  unaffedledfimplicity, 
with  which  it  is  adorned,  may  be  thought  not 
unworthy  of  reprinting  from  Burn's  "  Hiftory 
of  Weftmorland,  &c."] 

1762. 
To  the  Memory  of  the  REV.  JOSEPH  LANGHORNE 

o/Jfintoa,  and  ISABEL  bis  Wife. 
HER,  who  to  teach  this  trembling  hand  to  write, 
Toil'd  the  long  day,   and  watch'd    the   tedious 

night, 

I  mourn,  though  number'd  with  the  heavenly  hoft ; 
With  her  the  means  of  gratitude  are  loll. 

JOHN  LANGHORNE. 

OWEN  OF  CARRON. 
I. 

ON  Carron's  fide  the  primrofe  pale, 

Why  does  it  wear  a  purple  hue  ? 
Te  maidens  fair  of  Marlivale, 

WKy  ftream  your  eyes  with  pity's  dew  ? 

'Tis  all  with  gentle  Owen's  blood 

That  purple  grows  the  primrofe  pale  ; 

That  pity  pours  the  tender  flood 
From  each  fair  eye  in  Marlivale. 

The  evening  ftar  fat  in  his  eye, 

The  fun  his  golden  treffes  gave, 
The  north's  pure  morn  her  orient  dye, 
-  To  him  who  refts  in  yonder  grave '. 

Beneath  no  high,  hiftoric  ftone, 

Though  nobly  born,  is  Owen  laid, 
Stretch'd  on  the  green  wood's  lap  alone, 

He  fleeps  beneath  the  waving  fhade. 

There  many  a  flowery  race  hath  fprung, 

And  fled  before  the  mountain  gale, 
Since  firft  his  fimple  dirge  he  Tung ; 

Ye  maidens. fair  of  Marlivale  1 

Yet  ftill,  when  May  with  fragrant  feet 

Hath  wander'd  o'er  your  meads  of  gold, 
That  dirge  I  hear  fo  fimply  fweet 

Far  echo'd  from  each  evening  fold. 

II. 
•Twas  in  the  pride  of  William's  *  day, 

When  Scotland's  honours  flourilli'd  ftill, 
That  Moray's  earl,  with  mighty  fway, 

Bare  rule  o'er  many  a  Highland  hill. 

And  far  for  him  their  fruitful  ftore 

The  fairer  plains  of  Carron  fpread; 
In  fortune  rich,  in  offspring  poor, 

An  only  daughter  crown'd  his  bed. 

Oh  !  write  not  poor — the  wealth  that  flows 
In  waves  of  gold  round  India's  throne, 

All  in  her  (Inning  bread  that  glows, 

To  Ellen's  f  charms,  were  earth  and  ftone. 

*  William  the  Lyon,  king  of  Scotland. 

t  The  Lady  Ellen,  only  daughter  of  John  Earl  of 
Moray,  betrothed  to  the  Earl  ofNjtt.fdale,  and  af 
terwards  to  the  Earl  Barnard,  was  efteemed  one 


For  her  the  youth  of  Scotland  figh'cf, 

The  Frenchman  gay,  the  Spaniard  grave, 

And  fmoother  Jtaly  apply'd, 

And  many  an  Engiilh  baron  brave. 

[nvain  by  foreign  arts  affail'd, 

No  foreign  loves  her  bread  beguile, 
And  England's  honeft  valour  faii'd, 

Paid  with  a  cold,  but  courteous  fmile. 

"  Ah  !  woe  to  thee,  young  Nithifdale, 

1  That  o'er  thy  cheek  thofe  rofes  itray'd, 
"  Thy  breath,  theNviolet  of  the  vale, 
"  Thy  voice,  the  mufic  of  the  ftiade ! 

"  Ah  !  woe  to  thee,  that  Ellen's  love 
"  Alone  to  thy  fort  tale  would  yield  ? 

"  For  foon  thofe  gentle  arms  (hall  prove 
"  The  conflict  of  a  ruder  field." 

'Twas  thus  a  wayward  fitter  fpoke, 

And  caft  a  rueful  glance  behind, 
As  from  her  dim  wood-glen  (he  broke, 

And  mounted  on  the  moaning  wind. 

She  fpoke  and  vanifh'd— more  unmov'd 
Than  Moray's  rocks,  when  ftorms  inveft, 

The  valiant  youth  by  Ellen  lov'd, 

With  aught  that  fear,  or  fate  fuggeft. 

For  love,  methinks,  hath  power  to  raife 

The  foul  beyond  a  vulgar  ftate  ; 
Th'  unconquer'd  banners  he  difplays, 

Controul  our  fears  and  fix  our  fate. 

III. 
'Twas  when,  on  fummer's  fofteft  eve, 

Of  clouds  that  wander'd  weft  away, 
Twilight  with  gentle  hand  did  weave 

Her  fairy  robe  of  night  and  day. 

When-all  the  mountain  gales  were  ftill, 
And  the  waves  flept  againft  the  fhorc, 

And  the  fun,  funk  beneath  the  hill, 
Left  his  laft  fmile  on  Lammermore  *. 

Led  by  thofe  waking  dreams  of  thought 

That  warm  the  young  ur.pra&is'd  breaft, 
Her  wonted  bower  fwec  t  E!!en  fought, 

And  Carren  murnjur'd  near,  and  footh'd  hex 
into  reft. 

IV. 
There  is  fome  kind  and  courtly  fprite 

That  o'er  the  realm  of  fancy  reigns, 
Throws  funfhine  on  the  malk  of  night, 

And  fmiles  at  fliimber's  powerlefs  chains ; 

'Tis  told,  and  I  believe  the  tale, 

At  this  foft  hour  that  i'prite  was  there, 

And  fpread  with  fairer  flowers  the  vale, 
And  fill'd  with  Tweeter  founds  the  air. 

A  bower  he  fram'd  (for  he  could  frame 
What  long  mi-;ht  weary  mortal  wight : 

Swift  as  the  lightning's  rapid  flame 
Darts  on  the  unfufptdting  fight.) 

Such  bower  he  fram'd  with  magic  hand, 
As  well  that  \vizaid  bard  hath  wove, 

oftbefinejl  'women  in  Europe,  infomuch  that  f/jg 
bad  fever  alfuitcrs  andadmirtrr  in  'foreign  courts. 
*  A  'chain  of  mountains  running  through  Scot 
land,  from  eaft  to  ivt/l.    ' 


POEMS. 


In  fcenes  where  fair  Armida's  wand 
Wav'd  all  the  witcheries  of  love. 

Yet  was  it  wrought  in  fimple  fhow  ; 

Nor  Indian  mines  nor  orient  fhores 
Had  lent  their  glories  here  to  glow, 

Or  yielded  here  their  fliining  ftores. 

All  round  a  poplar's  trembling  arms, 

The  wild  rofe  wound  her  damafk  flower ; 

The  woodbine  lent  her  fp'cy  charms, 
That  loves  to  weave  the  lover's  bower. 

The  alh,  that  courts  the  m»untain-air, 
In  all  her.  painted  blooms  array'd, 

The  wilding's  bloflbm  blufhing  fair, 
Combin'd  to  form  the  flowery  fliade. 

With  thyme  that  loves  the  brown  hill's  breaft, 
The  cowflip's  fweet,  reclining  head, 

The  violet  of  fky-woven  veft, 

Was  all  the  fairy  ground  befpread. 

But,  who  is  he,  whofe  locks  fo  fair 
Adown  his  manly  fhoulders  flow  ? 

Betide  him  lies  the  hunter's  fpear, 
Betide  him  fleeps  the  warrior's  bow. 

He  bends  to  Ellen— (gentle  fprite, 

Thy  fweet  feducftive  arts  forbear) 
He  courts  her  arms  with  ford  delight, 

And  inftant  vaniflies  in  air. 

V. 
Haft  thou  not  found  at  early  dawn 

Some  foft  ideas  melt  away, 
If  o'er  fweet  vale,  or  flow'ry  lawn, 

The  fprite  of  dreams  hath  bid  thee  ftray  ? 

Haft  thou  not  fome  fair  object  feen, 
And,  when  the  fleeting  form  was  paft, 

Still  on  thy  memory  found  it;  mien, 
And  felt  the  fond  idea  lail  ? 

Thou  haft — and  oft  the  pictur'd  view, 
Seen  in  fome  viiion  counted  vain. 

Has  ftruck  thy  wond'rin  .  eye  anew, 
And  brought  the  long-loft  dream  again. 

With  warrior-bow,  with  hunter's  fpear, 
With  locks  adown  his  moulder  fpread, 

Young  Nithifdale  is  ranging  near- 
He's  ranging  near  yon  mountain's  head. 

Scarce  had  one  pale  moon  pafs'd  away, 

And  fill'd  her  filver  urn  again, 
When  in  the  devious  chafe  to  ft.  ay, 

Afar  from  all  his  woodland  train. 

To  Carron's  banks  his  fate  confign'd ; 

And,  all  to  fliun  the  fervid  hour,     ' 
He  fought  fome  friendly  fhade  to  find, 

And  found  the  vifibnary  bower. 

VI. 
Led  by  the  golden  ftar  of  love, 

Sweet  Ellen  took  her  wonted  way, 
And  in  the  deep  defending  grove  t  , 

Sought  refuge  from  the  fervid  day— 
Oh  ! — Who  is  he  whofe  ringlets  fair, 

Diforder'd  o'er  his  green  veft  flow, 
Reclin'd  to  reft — whofe  funny  hair 

Half  hides  the  fair  cheek's  ardent  glow  ? 

?Tis  he,  that  fprite's  illufive  gueft, 
(Ah  rue  !  that  fprite*  can  fate  controul !) 


is  when  fome  gentle  fpirit  fled 
From  earth  to  breathe  Elyfia 


That  lives  ftill  imagM  on  her  breaft, 
That  lives  ftill  pi&ur'd  ia  her  foul. 

fled 

,  jan  air, 

And  in  the  train  whom  we  call  dead, 
Perceives  its  long-lov'd  partner  there  ; 

Soft  fudden  pleafure  rufhes  o'er 

Refift  lei's,  o'er  its  airy  frame, 
To  fin^  its  future  fate  reftore 

The  objeci  of  its  former  flame. 

So  Ellen  ftood— lefs  power  to  move 
Had  he,  who,  bound  in  flumber's  chain, 

Seem'd  hap-'ly,  o'er  his  hills  to  rove, 
And  wind  his  woodland  chafe  again. 

She  ftood, but  trembled— mingled  fear, 
And  fond  delight  and  mcltiiig  love 

Seiz'd  all  her  foul ;  flie  came  not  near, 
She  came  not  near  that  fated  grove. 

She  ftrives  to  fly — from  wizard's  wand 

As  well  might  powerlefs  captive  fly— 
The  new  cropt  flower  falls  from  her  hand— 

Ah  !  fall  not  with  that  flower  to  die '. 

MI. 
Haft  thou  not  feen  fome  azure  gleam 

Smile  in  the  morning's  orient  eye, 
And  fkirt'the  reddening  clod's  foft  beam, 

What  time  the  fun  was  hailing  nigh  ? 

Thou  haft — and  thon  canft  fancy  well 
As  any  mufe  that  meets  thine  ear, 

The  foul-fet  eye  of  Nithifdale, 

When  wak'd,  it  fix'd  on  Ellen  near. 

Silent  they  gaz'd— that  filence  broke ; 

"  Hail  goddefs  of  thefe  groves  (he  cry'd), 
"  O  let  me  wear  thy  gentle  yoke  ! 

"  O  let  me  in  thy  i'ervicc  bide  ! 

"  For  thee  I'll  climb  the  mountains  fteep, 
44  Unwearied  chafe  the  defHn'd  prey, 

"  For  thee  1'H  pierce  the  wild  wood  deep, 
"  And  part  the  fprays  that  vex  thy  way." 

For  thee — "  O  ftranger,  ceafe,"  fhe  faid, 

And  fwift  away,  like  Daphne,  flew, 
But  Daphne's  flight  was  not  delay' d 

By  aught  that  to  her  bofom  grew. 

VIII. 
'Twas  Atalantz^s  golden  fruit, 

The  fond  idta  that  confin'd 
Fair  Ellen's  fteps,  and  blefs'd  his  fuit, 

Who  was  not  far,  not  far  behind. 

O  love !  within  thofe  golden  vales, 

Thofe  genial  airs  where  thou  waft  born, 
Where  nature,  Meiiing  thy  foft  tales, 

Leans  on  the  rofy  breaft  of  morn. 
Where  the  fweet  fmiles,  the  graces  dwell, 

And  tender  fighs  the  heart  remove, 
In  filent  eloquence  to  tell 

Thy  tale,  O  foul-fubduing  love ! 

Ah !  wherefore  fhotild  grim  rage  be  nigh, 
And  dark  diftruft,  with  changeful  face, 

And  jealoufy's  reverted  eye 

Be  near  thy  fair,  thy  favouc'd  place  ? 
IX. 

Earl  Barnard  was  of  high  dgcree, 
And  lord  of  many  a  lowland  hind; 


THE   WORKS   OF  LANGHORNE. 


And  long  for  Ellen  love  had  he, 
Had  love,  but  not  of  gentle  kind. 

From  Moray's  halls  her  abfent  hour 
He  watch'd  with  all  a  mifer's  care; 

The  wide  domain,  the  princely  dower 
Made  Ellen  more  than  Ellen  fair. 

Ah  wretch !  to  think  the  liberal  foul 
May  thus  with  fair  affection  part ! 

Though  Lothian's  vales  thy  fway  controul, 
Know,  Lothian  is  not  worth  one  heart, 

Studious  he  marks  her  abfent  hour, 
And,  winding  far  where  Carron  flows, 

Sudden  he  fees  the  fated  bower, 

And  red  rage  on  his  dark  brow  glows. 

For  who  is  he  ?— 'Tis  Nithifdale ! 

And  that  fair  form  with  arm  reclin'd 
On  his  ? — 'Tis  Ellen  of  the  vale, 

'Tis  fhe  (O  powers  of  vengeance !)  kind. 

Should  he  that  vengeance  fwif  t  purfuft  ? 

No— that  would  all  his  hopes  deftroy; 
J/Ioray  would  vanifh  from  his  view, 

And  rob  him  of  a  mifer's  joy. 

Unfeen  to  Moray's  halls  he  hies— 
He  calls  his  flaves,  his  ruffian  band, 

*  And  hafte  to  yonder  groves,"  he  cries, 
**  And  ambufh'd  lie  by  Carron's  ftrand: 

a  What  time  ye  mark  from  bower  or  glen 

"  A  gentle  lady  take  her  way, 
a  To  diftance  due,  and  far  from  ken, 

"  Allow  her  length  of  time  to  ftray. 

*  Then  ranfack  ftraight  that  range  of  groves.* 
«•  With  hunter's  fpear,  and  vefl  of  green ; 

*  If  chance  a  rofy  {tripling  roves, — 

**  Ye  well  can  aim  your  arrows  keen." 

And  now  the  ruffian  flares  are  nigh, 
And  Ellen  takes  her  homeward  way ; 

Though  ftay'd  by  many  a  tender  figh, 
She  can  no  longer,  longer  ftay. 

Penfive,  againft  yon  poplar  pale 
The  lover  leans  his  gentle  heart, 

Revolving  many  a  tender  tale, 

And  wond'ring  ftill  how  they  could  part. 

Three  arrows  pierc'd  the  defert  air, 
Ere  yet  his  tender  dreams  depart ; 

And  one  ftruck  deep  his  forehead  fair, 
And  one  went  through  his  gentle  heart. 

Love's  waking  dream  is  loft  in  fleep— 

He  lies  beneath  yon  poplar  pale  ! 
Ah  !  could  we  marvel  ye  fhould  weep ; 

Ye  maidens  fair  of  Marlivale  ! 

X. 
When  all  the  mountain  gales  were  ftillfc 

And  the  wave  flept  againft  the  ihore, 
And  the  fun  funk  beneath  the  hill, 

Left  his  laft  fmik  on  Lammermore. 

Sweet  Ellen  takes  her  wonted  way 

Along  the  fairy-featur'd  vale : 
Bright  o'er  his  wave  does  Carron  play, 

And  foon  fhe'll  meet  her  Nithifdale, 

She'll  meet  him  foon — for,  at  her  fight, 
Swift  as  the  mountain  deer  ip  fpcd ; 


The  evening  fhades  will  fink  in  night— 
Where  art  thou,  loitering  lovei,  fled  f 

O  !  fhe  will  chide  thy  trifling  ftay, 
E'en  now  the  foft  reproach  fhe  frames-. 

"  Can  lovers  brook  fuch  long  delay  ? 
"  Lovers  that  boaft  of  ardent  flames !" 

He  comes  not — weary  with  the  chafe, 
Soft  flumber  o'er  his  eyelids  throws 

Her  veil — we'll  fteal  one  dear  embrace, 
We'll  gently  fteal  on  his  repofe. 

This  is  the  bower — we'll  foftly  tread- 
He  fleeps  beneath  yon  poplar  pale— 

Lover,  if  e'er  thy  heart  has  bled, 
Thy  heart  will  far  forego  my  tale ! 
XI. 

Ellen  is  not  in  princely  bower, 

She's  not  in  Moray's  fplendid  train  j, 

Their  miftrefs  dear,  at  midnight  hour, 
Her  weeping  maidens  feck  in  vain. 

[er  pillow  fwells  not  deep  with  down ; 

For  her  no  balms  their  fweets  exhale  -. 
Jer  limbs  are  on  the  pale  turf  thrown, 

Prefs'd  by  her  lovely  cheek  as  pale : 

On  that  fair  cheek,  that  flowing  hair, 
The  brown  its  yellow  leaf  hath  fhed, 

And  the  chill  mountain's  early  air 
Blows  wildly  o'er  her  beauteous  head. 

As  the  foft  ftar  of  orient  day, 

When  clouds  involve  his  rofy  light, 
)arts  through  the  gloom  a  tranfient  ray, 
And  leaves  the  world  once  more  to  night ; 

Returning  life  illumes  her  eye, 

And  flow  its  languid  orb  unfolds,— 
What,  are  thofe  bloody  arrows  nigh  ? 
Sure,  bloody  arrows  fhe  beholds ! 

What  was  that  form  fo  ghaftly  pale, 

That  low  beneath  the  poplar  lay  ! 
'Twas  fome  poor  youth-—"  Ah  Nithifdale !' 

She  faid,  and  fileut  funk  away  : 

XII. 
The  morn  in  the  mountains  fpread, 

The  woodlark  trills  his  liquid  ftrain— • 
Can  morn's  fweet  mufic  roufe  the  dead  ? 

Give  the  fet  eye  its  foul  again  ? 

A  fhepherd  of  that  gentler  mind 
Which  nature  not  profufoly  yields, 

Seeks  in  thefe  lonely  fhades  to  filid 
Some  wanderer  from  his  little  fields. 

Aghaft  he  ftands — and  fimple  fear 
O'er  all  his  paly  vifage  glides — 

"  Ah  me !  what  means  this  mifery  here  ? 
"  What  fate  this  lady  fair  betides!" 

He  bears  her  to  his  friendly  home, 

When  life  he  finds  has  but  retir'd : — 
With  hafte  he  frames  the  lover's  tomb, 

For  his  is  quite,  is  quite  expir'd  ! 

XIII. 

"  O  hide  me  in  thy  humble  bower," 
'  Returning  late  to  life  (he  fait! ; 
"  I'll  bind  thy  crook  with  many  a  flower ; 

"  With  many  a  rofy  wreath  thy  head. 
"  Good  flicpherd,  hafte  to  yonder  grove, 

J'  A»d,  if  my  love  aflsep  is  laid,, 


OEMS. 


K  Oh !  xrakc  him  not ;  but  foftly  move 
"  Some  pillow  to  that  gentle  head. 

'  Sure,  thou  wilt  know  him,  fliepherd  fwain, 
"  Thoii  know'ft  the  fun  rife  o'er  the  fea— 

"  But  oh  !  no  lamb  in  all  thy  train 
"  Was  e'er  fo  mild,  fo  mild  as  he.' ' 

"  His  head  is  on  the  wood-mofs  laid  ; 

<c  I  did  not  wake  his  flumber  deep— • 
"  Sweet  fing  the  redbreft  o'er  the  fhade— 

"  Why,  gentle  lady,  would  you  weep  ?" 

As  flowers  that  fade  in  burning  day, 
At  evening  find  the  dew-drop  dear, 

But  fiercer  feel  the  noontide  ray, 
When  foften'd  by  the  nightly  tear ; 

Returning  in  the  flowing  tear, 

This  lovely  flower,  more  fweet  than  they, 
Found  her  fair  foul,  and  wand'ring  near, 

The  ftranger,  reafon,  crofs'd  her  way. 

Found  her  fair  foul,— Ah  !  fo  to  find 

Was  but  more  dreadful  grief  to  know  ! 
Ah  !  fure,  the  privilege  of  mind 

Cannot  be  worth  the  wifh  of  woe ! 

XIV. 
On  melancholy's  filent  urn 

A  fofter  fhade  of  forrow  falls, 
But  Ellen  can  no  more  return, 

No  more  return  to  Moray's  halls. 

Beneath  the  low  and  lonely  {hade 

The  flow-confuming  hour  fhe'll  weep, 

Till  nature  feeks  her  laft  left  aid. 
In  the  fad  fombrous  arms  of  fkep. 

*  Thefe  jewels,  all  unmeet  for  me, 

"  Shajt  thou,"  flie  faid,  "  good  fliepherd,  take  ; 
"  Thcfe  gems  will  purchafe  gold  for  thee, 

"  And  thefe  be  thine  for  Ellen's  fake. 

"  So  fail  thou  not,  at  eve  or  morn, 
"  The  rofemary's  pale  bough  to  bring— 

"  Thou  know'ft  where  I  was  found  forlorn— 
"  Where  thou  haft  heard  the  redbreaft  fing. 

«  Heedful  I'll  tend  thy  flocks  the  while, 

"  Or  aid  thy  fhepherdefs's  care, 
"  For  I  will  (hare  her  humble  toil, 

"  And  I  her  friendly  roof  will  fnare." 

XV. 
And  now  two'longfome  years  are  paft 

In  luxury  of  lonely  pain— 
The  lovely  mourner,  found  at  laft, 

To  Moray's  halls  is  borne  again. 

Yet  has  flie  left  one  object  dear, 

That  wears  love's  funny  eye  of  joy- 
Is  Nithifdale  reviving  here  ? 
Or  is  it  but  a  fliepherd's  boy  ? 

By  Carron's  fide  a  fliepherd's  boy, 

He  binds  his  vale-flowers  with  the  reed : 
He  wears  love's  funny  eye  of  joy, 

And  birth  he  little  feems  to  heed. 

XVI. 
But  ah !  no  more  his  infant  fleep 

Clofes  beneath  a' mother's  fmile, 
Who,  only  when  it  clos'd,  would  weep, 

And  yield  to  tender  woe  the  while. 


No  more  with  fond  attention  dear, 

She  feeks  th*  uhfpoken  wifli  to  find; 
No  more  (hall  flie,  with  pleafure's  tear^ 

See  the  foul  waxing  into  mind. 

XVII. 
Does  nature  bear  a  tyrant's  breaft  ? 

Is  flie  the  friend  of  ftern  controul  ? 
Wears  flie  the  defpot's  purple  veft  ? 

Or  fetters  flie  the  free-bern  foul  ? 

Where,  worft  of  tyrants,  is  thy  claim 
In  chains  thy  childrens  breafts  to  bind  ? 

Gav'ft  thou  the  Promethean  flame  ? 
The  incommunicable  mind  ? 

Thy  offspring  are  great  nature's— free, 

And  of  her  fair  dominion  heirs ; 
Each  privilege  flie  gives  to  thee ; 

Know,  that  each  privilege  it  theirs. 

They  have  thy  feature,  wear  thine  eye, 
Perhaps  fome  feelings  of  thy  heart ; 

And  wilt  thou  their  lov'd  hearts  deny- 
To  aft  their  fair,  their  proper  part  ? 
XVIII. 

The  lord  of  Lothian's  fertile  rale, 
Ill-fated  Ellen,  claims  thy  hand  ; 

Thou  know'ft  not  that  thy  Nithifdale 
Was  low  laid  by  his  ruffian  band, 

And  Moray,  with  unfather'd  eyes, 

Fix'd  on  fair  Lothian's  fertile  dale, 
Attends  his  human  facrifice, 

Without  the  Grecian  painter's  veiL 

O  married  love !  thy  bard  fliall  own, 

Where  two  congenial  fouls  unite, 
Thy  golden  chain  inlaid  with  down, 

Thy  lamp  with  heaven's  own  fplendour  bright. 

But  if  no  radiant  ftar  of  love, 

O  Hymen  !  fmile  on  thy  fair  rite, 
Thy  chain  a  wretched~weight  fhall  prove, 

Thy  lamp  a  fad  fepulchral  light. 

XIX. 
And  now  has  time's  flow  wandering  wing, 

Borne  many  a  year  unmark'd  with  fpeed— 
Where  is  the  boy  by  Carron's  fpring, 

Who  bound  his  vale-flowers  with  the  reed  ? 

Ah  me !  thofe  flowers  he  binds  no  more ; 
.  No  early  charm  returns  again ; 
The  parent  nature  keeps  in  ftore 
Her  beft  joys  for  her  little  train. 

No  longer  heed  the  fun-beam  bright 

That  plays  on  Carron's  breaft  he  can, 
Reafon  has  lent  her  quiv'ring  light, 

And  fhown  the  checquer'd  field  of  man. 

XX. 
As  the  firft  human  heir  of  earth 

With  penfive  eye  himfelf  furvey'd, 
And  all  unconfcious  of  his  birth, 

Sat  thoughtful  oft  in  Eden's  fhade. 

In  penfive  thought  fo  Owen  ftray'd 
Wild  Carron's  lonely  woods  among, 

And  once,  within  their  greeneft  glade, 
He  fondly  fram'd  this Timple  fong. 
XXI. 

Why  is  this  crook  adorn'd  with  gold  ? 
Whjr  am  I  talcs  of  ladies  told  .' 


THE   WORKS   OFLANGHORNE. 


Why  does  no  labour  me  employ, 

If  I  am  but  a  fhepherd's  boy  ? 

A  filkcn  vefl  like  mine  fo  green 

In  fhepherd's  hut  I  have  not  feen— - 

"Why  fhould  I  in  fuch  vefture  joy, 

If  I  am  but  a  fhepherd's  boy  ? 

I  know  it  is  no  fhepherd's  art 

His  written  meaning-  to  impart— 

They  teach  me  lun-  an  idle  toy, 

If  I  am  but  a  fherl  erd's  boy. 

This  bracelet  bright  mat  binds  my  arm— 

It  could  not  come  from  fhepherd's  farm ; 

It  only  would  that  arm  annoy, 

If  I  were  but  a  fhepherd's  boy. 

And,  O  thou  filent  pidture  fair, 
That  lov'fl  to  fmile  upon  me  there, 
O  fay,  arid  fill  my  heart   with  joy, 
That  I  am  not  a  fhepherd's  boy. 

XXII. 
Ah  lovely  youth  !  thy  tender  lay 

May  not  thy  gentle  life  prolong : 
Seeft  thou  yon  nightingale  a  prey  ? 

The  fierce  hawk  hov'ring  o'er  his  fong  ? 
His  little  heart  is  large  with  love  : 

He  fweetly  hails  his  ev'ning  ftar ; 
And  fate's  more  pointed  arrows  move 

Infidious  from  his  eye  afar. 
XXIII. 
The  fhepherdefs  whofe  kindly  care 

Had  watch'd  o'er  Owen's  infant  breath, 
Muft  now  their  fileut  manfions  fhare, 

Whom  time  leads  calmly  down  to  death. 
"  O  te'ljne,  parent,  if  thou  art, 
(     "  What  is  this  lovely  picture  dear  ? 
"  Why  wounds  its  mournful  eye  my  heart, 

"  Why  flows  from  mine  th'  unbidden  tear  ? 
"  Ah,  youth !  to  leave  thee  loth  am  I, 

"  Though  I  be  not  thy  parent  dear ; 
"  And  would'ft  thou  wifh,  or  ere  I  die, 

"  The  ftory  of  thy  birth  to  hear  ? 
««  But  it  will  make  thee  much  bewail, 

"  And  it  will  make  thy  fair  eye  fwell — " 
She  faid,  and  told  the  woefome  tale, 

As  footh  as  fhepherdefs  might  tell. 

XXIV. 
The  heart  that  forrow  doom'd  to  fhare 

Has  worn  the  frequent  feal  of  woe, 
Its  fad  impreffions  learns  to  bear, 

And  finds  full  oft  its  ruin  flow. 
But  when  that  feal  is  firft  impreft, 

When  the  young  heart  its  pain  fhall  try, 
From  the  foft,  yielding,  trembling  breaft, 

Oft  feems  the  flartled  foul  to  fly. 
Yet  fled  not  Owen's — wild  amaze 

In  palenefs  cloth'd,  and  lifted  hands, 
And  horror's  dread  unmeaning  gaze, 

Mark  the  poor  flatue  as  it  ftands. 
The  Cmplc  guardian  of  his  life 

Look'd  wiftful  for  the  tear  to  glide ; 
But,  when  fhe  faw  his  tearlefs  ftriie, 

Silent,  fhe  lent  him  one — and  dy'd. 

XXV. 
"  No  I  am  not  a  fhepherd's  boy," 

Awaking  from  his  dream,  he  faid, 
*  Ah,  where  is  now  the  promis'd  joy 

?  Of  Uiis  ?— for  ever,  ever  fled ! 


"  O  picture  dear ! — for  her  lov'd  fake 

"  How  fondly  could  my  heart  bewail ! 
"  My  friendly  fhepherdefs,  O  wake, 

"  And  tell  me  more  of  this  fad  tale. 
"  O  tell  me  more  of  this  fad  tale— 

"  No  ;  thou  enjoy  thy  gentle  fleep! 
"  And  I  will  go  to  Lothian's  vale, 

"  And  more  than  all  her  waters  weep." 

XXVI. 
Owen  to  Lothian's  vale  is  fled— 

Earl  Barnard's  lofty  towers  appear— 
"  O  !  art  thou  there."  the  fulljieart  faid, 

"  O  !  art  thou  there,  my  parent  dear?" 
Yes,  fhe  is  there  :  from  idle  ftate 

Oft  has  fhe  ft'ole  her  hour  to  weep  ; 
Think  how  fhe  "  by  thy  cradle  fat," 

And  how  fhe  "  fondly  faw  thee  fleep  V 
Now  tries  his  trembling  hand  to  frame 

Full  many  a  tender  line  of  love  ; 
And  ftill  he  blots  the  parent's  name, 

For  that  he  fears  might  fatal  prove. 

XXVII. 
O'er  a  fair  fountain's  fmiling  fide 

Reclin'd  a  dim  tower,  clad  with  mofs, 
Where  every  bird  was  wont  to  bide, 

That  languifh'd  for  its  partner's  lofs. 

This  fcene  he  chofe,  this  fcene  aflign'd 

A  parent's  firft  embrace  to  wait, 
And  many  a  foft  fear  fill'd  his  mind, 

Anxious  for  his  fond  letter's  fate. 
The  hand  that  bore  thofe  lines  of  love, 

The  well-informing  bracelet  bore — 
Ah  !  may  they  not  unprofperous  prove ! 

Ah.!  fafely  pafs  yon  dangerous  door  ! 

XXVIII. 
"  She  comes  not ; — can  fhe  then  delay  ?"• 

Cried  the  fair  youth,  and  dropt  a  tear— 
"  Whatever  filial  love  cou:d  fay, 

"  To  her  I  faid,  and  call'd  her  dear. 

"  She  comes — Oh  !  No—  encircled  round, 

"  'Tis  fome  r<id-  chief  with  many  a  fpear, 
"  My  haplefs  tale  that  earl  has  found — 

"  Ah  me  !  my  heart ! — for  her  I  fear." 
His  tender  tale  that  earl  had  read, 

Or  ere  it  reach'd  his  lady's  eye, 
His  dark  brow  wears  a  cloud  of  red, 

In  rage  he  deems  a  rival  nigh. 

XXiX. 
'Tis  o'er  thofe  locks  that  vav'd  in  gold, 

That-  wav'd  adown  thofe  cheeks  fo  fair, 
Wreath'd  in  the  gloomy  tyrant's  hold, 

Hang  from  the  fever'd  head  in  air. 
That  ftreaming  head  he  joy?  to  bear 

In  horrid  guife  to  Lothian's  halls; 
Bids  his  grim  ruffiarts  place  it  there, 

Ered:  upon  the  frowning  walls. 
The  fatal  tokens  forth  he  drew — 

'  Know'ft  thou  thefe — Fllen  of  the  vale  I'' 
The  pi<5tur'd  bracelet  foon  fhe  knew, 

And  foon  her  lovely  cheek  grew  pale.— 

The  trembling  viclrim  ftraight  he  led,  . 

Ere  yet  her  foul's  firft  fear  was  o'er  • 
He  pointed  to  the  ghaftly  head — 

She  faw — and  funk  to  rife  no  more. 

*Sfe  the  an>.iitit  ScoUiJb  ballad  sailed  Gil  Mor  rice. 


THE 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  V 


MICHAEL    BRUCE. 


Containing 


I.OCHLEVEK, 
OAPHNIS, 
THE  MOUSIAD, 


ELEGIES,  - 

PASTORALS, 

ODES, 


.  fcV. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    4UTHOR, 


Thus  fung  the  youth,  amid  unfertile  wilds 
And  namelefs  deferts,  unpoetic  ground  ! 
Far  from  his  friends  he  ftray'd,  recording  thus 
The  dear  remembrance  of  his  native  fields, 
To  cheer  the  tedious  night ;  while  flow  difeafe 
Prey 'd  on  his  pining  vitals,  and  the  blafts 
Of  dark  December  (hook  his  humble  cot. 


LOCHLETEK. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  JAUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSB. 
AIM  1795. 


THE  few  melancholy  particulars  which  form  the  Dender  hiftory  of  the  life  of  BRUC*,  were  firft 
given  to  the  world  by  Logan,  the  editor  of  his  works;  and  have  fince  received  every  poffible  re 
commendation  and  embellifhment  from  the  elegant  pen  of  Lord  Craig,  one  of  the  judges  of  the 
Court  of  Scflion,  in  the  36th  number  of  the  "  Mirror." 

A  fhort  life  part  in  obfcurity,  and  in  the  filent  acquifition  of  knowledge,  cannot  be  eipecfted  to  a- 
boundin  viciflitudes  or  occurrences  interefting  to  curiofity;  but  particular  circumftances  may  exift,  to 
render  the  life  of  a  young  man  of  genius,  depreffed  by  fituation,  and  afpiring  to  literature  and  to' 
poetry  under  the  preflnre  of  indigence,  peculiary  interesting  to  benevolence  and  to  learning. 

The  affecting  and  well-written  paper  in  the  "  Mirror,"  attributed  to  Lord  Craig,  has  been  diftin- 
guifhed  by  the  moft  refpec5tab!e  literary  journalifts  of  our  nation,  with  particular  marks  of  attention  ; 
a  circumflance  to  which,  befides  the  attraction  between  good  writing  and  competent  judges,  it  is 
natural  to  fuppofe,  the  gratification  of  a  fenfibility  and  a  curiofity  common  to  the  liberal  and  inqui- 
iltive,  arifing  from  the  benevolent  attempt,  to  refcue  from  oblivion  the  name  and  writings  of  an 
ingenious  and  amiable  young  poet,  contributed  in  no  inconfiderable  degree. 

The  faifts  flated  in  the  prefent  account,  are  partly  taken  from  the  brief  narrative  of  Logan,  and 
partly  from  information  furniflied  by  his  relations,  and  collected  from  the  perifhing  remains  of  his 
cpiftolary  correfpondence,  communicated  to  the  prefent  writer,  by  the  kiudnefs  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
George  Baird,  "Principal  of  the  Univerfity  of  Edinburgh. 

The  intelligence  which  he  has  obtained  is  general  and  fcanty ;  but  he  has  this  gratification  from 
producing  it,  that  it  gives  him,  at  once,  an  opportunity  of  reflecting  on  the  liberal  and  friendly  af- 
iiflance  of  Dr.  Baird,  and  of  recording  his  cfteem  and  veneration  for  the  talents  and  virtues  o£ 
the  unfortunate  poet,  and  his  humane  and  benevolent  exertions  to  lefien  the  wants,  and  alleviate  the 
afflictions  of  his  aged  mother,  which  defcrve  a  more  ample  encomium  than  this  brief  memorial  can, 
beftow. 

Michael  Bruce  was  born  at  Kinriefswood,  in  the  parifh  of  Portmoak',  in  Kinrofsfhire,  March  2". 
1746.  He  was  defcended  of  a  family,  in  no  rcfpccl  illuftrious,  but  in  bearing  a  name  t'hat  is  re 
nowned  by  the  valour  and  patriot^m  of  King  Robert  I,  and  diilinguifned  by  the  tafte  and  fcience  of 
the  Houfe  of  Kinrofs.  His  father,  Alexander  Bruce,  was  by  trade  a  weaver,  tolio  inherited  nothing 
from  his  parents  but  tiieir  piety,  induftry,  and  integrity,  for  which  he  was  diflinguifhed  among  his 
neighbours.  His  mother,  Anne  Bruce,  was  of  a  family  of  the  fame  rank  in  that  neighbourhood,  and 
remarkable  for  nothing  but  her  exemplary  prudence  and  frugality,  and  the  innocence  and  fimplicity  . 
of  her  manners.  They  had  eight  children,  of  whom  the  poet  was  the  fifth.  Of  thefe  eight  only- 
two  furvive;  James,  a  weaver  in  Kinnefswood,  a  man  of  rcfpeclable  character,  and  though  unedu 
cated,  not  unacquainted  with  books,  nor  without  a  tafle  for  metrical  compofuion ;  and  Mary,  mar 
ried  to  one  Arnot  inxthat  neighbourhood.  Both  parents  were  Seceders,  of  the  clafs  called  Burghers. 
The  firft  years  of  his  life  did  not  pafs  without  diftin<Stion.  He  very  early  difcovefed  a  genius  fu- 
perior  to  the  common,,  which  his  parents  had  the  penetration  to  difccrn,  and  the  merit  to  improve, 
by  giving  him  a  polite  and  liberal  education. 

The  delicacy  of  his  conftitution,  which  was  remarkable  from  his  earlieft  years,  and  the  uncommon1 
proficiency  which  he  mads  in  thfi  learning  taught  at  the^fchool  of  the  village,  probably  determined 
them  to  educate  him  for  the  clerical  profeflion  ;  an  objec"t  of  common  ambition  among  perfons  of  in 
ferior  rank  in  North  Britain,  and  for  which,  it  may  be  fuppofed,  their  peculiar  irhprcffion.  - 
ligion  gave  them  a  flrong  predilection. 
V»L.  XI;  S' 


LIFE  OF  BRUCE. 

After  pafftng  through  the  ufual  courfc  of  fchool  education  at  Fortmoak,  and  the  neighbouring  tfttvfi 
of  Kinrofs,  he  was  fent,  in  1762,  to  the  Univerfity  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  applied  himfelf,  during 
the  four  fuccecding  years,  to  the  feveral  branches  of  literature  and  philofophy,  with  remarkable  al- 
fiduity  and  fuccefs.  Of  the  Latin  anct  Greek  languages  he  acquired  a  mafterly  knowledge  ;  and  he 
made  eminent,  progrefs  in  metaphyfics,  mathematics,  and  moral  arid  natural  philofophy.  But  the 
Belies  Lettres  was  his  favourite  purfuit,  and  poetry  his  darling  ftudy.  The  poets  were  his  perpetual 
companions.  He  read  their  works  with  avidity,  and  with  a  congenial  enthufiafm.  He  caught  their 
fpirit  as  well  as  their  manner,  and  though  he  fometimes  imitated  their  ftyle,  he  was  a  poet  from  in- 
ipiration.  Nature  had  tuned  his  ear  to  harmony,  and  fown  the  feeds  of  poetical  enthufiafm  in  hi* 
mind. 

Before  he  left  fchool,  he  gave  evident  figns  of  a  propcnfity  to  the  fludy  of  poetry,  in  which  he  \vn5 
greatly  encouraged,  from  an  acquaintance  which  he  had  contracted,  when  very  young,  with  Mr. 
David  Arnot  of  Portmoak,  the  patron  and  director  of  his  youthful  ftudies. 

Mr.  Arnot  cultivated  a  fmall  farm,  on  the  banks  of  Lochleven,  which  he  inherited  from  his 
parents,  and  is  now  poffefled  by  his  fon.  He  was  a  man  of  excellent  fenfe  and  piety,  and  had  a 
cultivated  tafte,  and  an  acquaintance  with  daffical  learning,  moral  philcfophy,  poetry,  and  criticifm, 
much  fuperior  to  his  opportunities  of  improvement,  and  his  rank  in  life.  He  gave  his  young  friend 
the  firft  perception  of  good  poetry,  by  putting  into  his  hands  the  "  Paradife  Loft"  of  Milton,  the 
"  Seafons"  of  Thomfprj^  the  poems  of  Pope,  and  the  dramas  of  Shakfpeare. 

Befides  the  advantage  of  fo  intelligent  and  iincere  an  advifcr  as  Mr.  Arnot,  he  had  formed  an  ao  • 
quaintance  with  Mr.  David  Pearfon,  of  Eafter  Balgcedie,  a  village  adjoining  to  Kinnefswood,  a  man 
of  ftrong  parts,  and  of  a  ferious,  contemplative,  and  inquifitive  turn,  who  had  improved  his  mind  by 
A  diligent  and  folitary  pernfal  of  fuch  books  as  came  within  his  reach ;  and,  having  a  peculiar  pre 
dilection  for  -that  branch  of  ftudy  which  foon  became  the  favourite  object  of  his  purfuit,  contributed 
hot  a  little  to  lead  him  to  the  love  of  reading  and  the  ftudy  of  poetry.  This  worthy  and  refpectable 
man  is  now  living  at  Eafter- Balgeedie, 

In  the  company  of  Arnot  and  Pearfort,  he  paffed  much  of  his  time  in  the  country,  and  to  them, 
from  time  to  time,  he  imparted  the  o<cafional  fallies  of  his  genius,  receiving  from  them  fuch  advice 
as  tended  greatly  to  ripen  his  judgment,  and  improve  his  natural  tafte  for  metrical  compofition. 

Among  the  companions  of  his  youthful  and  claflical  ftudies,  he  lived  in  habits  of  the  moft  familiar 
intimacy  with  Mr.  George  Henderfon,  and  a  Mr.  Dryburgh ;  young  men  of  ingenuity  and  ability, 
whofe  kindnefs  fupplied  him  with  books,  and  whofe  converfation  improved  his  powers,  that  were 
now  gradually  expanding1.  Mr.  Dryburgh  went  before  him  in  November  1766.  Mr.  Henderfoo 
became  afterwards  a  clergyman,  of  the  Burgher  denomination,  at  Glafgow,  and  died  in  1793. 

Soon  after  his  Coming  to  Edinburgh,  he  contracted  an  acquaintance  with  Logan,  then  a  ftudent  af 
the  Univerfity.  A  fimilavity  of  tafte,  and  of  purfuits,  foon  brought  on  an  intimacy  between  thefe 
two  poets,  which  continued  without  abatement  till  the  death  of  Bruce. 

While  he  was  profecuting  his  favourite  ftudies,  and  improving  his  tafte,  he  feems  to  have  felt  in 
Common  with  thofe  who  poflefs  a  genius,  of  which  imagination  and  feeling  are  the  ftrongeft  charac- 
tcriftics,  that  penfive  melancholy,  which  is  ever  attendant  upon  poetical  enthufiafm,  and  frequently 
the  concomitant  of  the  beft  difpofition  and  principles,  and  the  certain  left  of  a  generous  and  fuf- 
ceptible  heart,  confcious  of  rectitude  of  conduct  and  unmerited  adverfity. 

His  letters  from  Edinburgh  to  Mr.  Arnot,  in  1763,  written  chiefly  as  exercifesin  the  compofition 
of  Latin,  contain  feveral  reflections  of  a  folemn  and  ferious  caft.  In  a  letter  to  him,  dated  Nov.  47. 
1764,  he  thus  indulges  a  train  of  thought,  produced  by  advcrfe  circumftances,  but  tempered  by  a 
rational  piety.  "  I  daily  meet  with  proofs,  that  money  is  a  neceflary  evil.  When  in  an  auction  I 
often  fay  to  myfelf,  how  happy  fhould  I  be  if  I  had  money  to  purchafe  fuch  a  book !  How  well 
Ihould  my  library  he  furniflied,  nift  obfat  res  angufta  domi! 

TvTy  lot  forbid1/— nor  circumfcribes  alone 
My  growing  virtues,  but  my  crimes  confines. 

"  Whether  any  virtues  fhould  have  accompanied  me  in  a  more  elevated  ftatiori  is  uncertain ;  but 
t?r<it  a  number  of  vieeJ,  of  which,  my  fphere  is  incapable,  would  have  been  its  attendants,  is  unquef- 

J. 


THE   LIFE   OP  BRUCE.  175 

tionable.  The  Supreme  Wifdom  has  feen  this  meet,  and  the  Supreme  Wifdom  cannot  err."  In  the 
fame  letter  he  writes  him,  "  I  am  entered  to  the  Hebrew  and  Natural  Philofophy.  The  Hebrew 
feems  to  be  a  very  dry  and  dull  ftudy,  as  well  as  difficult."  Of  the  ttudy  of  Natural  Philofophy,  he 
fpeaks  more  favourably;  but  complains,  with  the  eagernefs  of  youthful  curioiity,  of  the  difpropor- 
tionate  length  of  the  preliminary  lectures. 

In  Dec.  12.  1764,  he  writes  him,  "  I  am  in  health,  excepting  a  kind  of  fettled  melancholy  (for 
which  I  cannot  account),  which  has  feized  on  my  fpirits." 

During  the  fame  feffion  of  the  College,  he  writes  him,  March  27.  dies  natalis,  1765,  "  I  am  in  great 
concern  juft  now  for  a  fchool.  When  I  was  over  laft,  there  was  a  propofal  made  by  fome  people  of 
thefe  parts  to  keep  one  at  Gairny-Bridge.  What  it  may  turn  out  to,  I  cannot  tell."  The  pottfcript 
to  this  letter  is  remarkable,  as  it  fhows  his  extreme  delicacy  in  avoiding  any  occafion  of  offending  the 
religious  prejudices  of  his  parents.  "  I  alk  your  pardon  for  the  trouble  I  have  put  you  to  by  thefe 
books  I  have  fent.  The  fear  of  a  difcovery  made  me  choofe  this  method.  I  have  fent  Shakfpeare's 
Works,  i  vols,  Pope's  Works,  4  vols,  and  Fontenelle's  "  Plurality  of  Worlds." 

In  March  1765,  he  wrote  an  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  M'Ewtn,  a  refpedrable  Burgher  clergy, 
man,  author  of  a  "  Treatife  on  the  Scripture  Types,"  and  "  Efiays  on  Various  Subjects,"  well  known 
in  the  religious  world.  At  the  end  of  the  feffion,  the  fcheme  of  provifion,  that  was  planned  for  him, 
was  accomplished ;  and,  during  the  fummer,  he  taught  the  fchool  at  Gairny-Bridge,  near  Kinrofs, 
kept  for  the  education  of  the  children  of  fome  farmers  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  allowed  him  his 
board  and  a  fmall  falary. 

At  this  place  he  wrote  his  beautiful  Monody  to  the  Memory  of  William  Arnot,  fon  of  his  friend 
Mr.  Arnot,  a  boy  of  an  amiable  difpofition,  and  of  very  promising  abilities.  The  original  manufcript, 
now  lying  before  the  prefent  writer,  is  prefaced  by  the  following  manly  letter  to  Mr.  Arnot,  dated 
Gairny-Bridge,  May  Jp.  1765.  "  Walking  lately  by  the  church-yard  at  your  town,  which  infpires  a 
kind  of  veneration  for  our  anceftors,  I  was  ftruck  with  thefe  beautiful  lines  of  Mr.  Gray,  in  his  "  Ele 
gy  written  in  a  Country  Church-yard.'' 

Perhaps  in  this  neglected  fpot  is  laid 

Some  heart  once  pregnant  with  celeftial  fire. 

"  And  immediately  I  called  to  mind  your  fon,  whofe  memory  will  be  ever  dear  tmto  me  ;  and  with 
refpecl  to  that  place,  put  the  fuppofition  out  of  doubt.  I  wrote  the  moft  part  of  this  poem  the  fame 
day  ;  which  I  fhould  be  very  forry  if  you  look  upon  as  a  piece  of  flattery.  I  know  you  are  above 
flattery  ;  and  if  I  know  any  thing  of  my  own  mind,  1  am  fo  too.  It  is  the  language  of  the  heart.  I 
think  a  lie  in  verfe  and  profe  the  fame.  The  verfification  is  irregular,  in  imitation  of  Milton's  Ly- 
cidas." 

About  this  time,  he  probably  wrote  his  Alexii,  a  paftoral ;  in  which  he  celebrates,  under  the  name 
of  Eumelia,  an  amiable  young  woman,  the  daughter  of  the  perfon  with  whom  he  refided  at  Gairny- 
Bridge,  whofe  modeft  beauty,  and  artlefs  fimplicity,  had  made  an  impreffion  on  his  fufceptible  heart. 
She  is  likewife  celebrated  under  the  name  of  Peggy,  in  a  Pajloral  Song,  to  the  tune  of  "  The  Yel- 
low-Hair'd  Laddie,"  and  a  fong  called  Locbleven  no  more,  in  imitation  of  "  Lochaber  no  more,1' 
printed  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Magazine."  She  had  been  for  fome  time  his  fcholar ;  and  is  now  living. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  feffion  of  the  College,  1765-1765,  he  became  a  Student  of  Divinity,  as  ap 
pears  by  Mr.  Arnot's  letter  to  him,  dated  Portmoak,  Nov.  21.  1766,  in  which  he  "  congratulates 
him  on  his  undertaking  a  fecond  degree  of  probation,  and  vviihcs  him  the  beft  fuccefs,  as  you  hare," 
he  fays,  "  one  of  the  beft  fubjecls  for  exercifing  your  genius,  and  giving  proof  of  your  talents." 
And  adds, "  I  hope,  if  opportunity  be  given,  to  have  an  oclavo  leaf  of  any  remarkables  I  can  collect 
on  it,  'twixt  this  and  your  return.  You'll  undoubtedly  know  the  form  of  fuch  exercifes,  and  ac 
cordingly  you'll  be  doing  your  beft."  The  fuccefs  of  his  theological  exercifes  is  not  known. 

In  the  Summer  1766,  he  quitted  the  fchool  at  Gairny-Bridge,  for  one  at  a  place  called  Forreft- 
Mill,  near  Alloa,  in  Clackmannanfliire,  in  which  he  appears  to  have  met  with  lei's  encouragement 
than  he  expected. 

"  What  I  enjoyed  of  any  thing,"  he  writes  Mr.  Arnot,  July  *S.  17(16,  "  was  always  in  the  hope 
of  it.  I  expeded  to  be  happy  here,  bu;  I  am  not ;  aad  my  funguine  hopes  are  the  reafon  of  my  dik 

Sij 


*7<7  THE   LIFE  OF  BR.UCF. 

appointment.    The  eafieft  part  of  my  life  is  paft,  and  I  was  never  happy Things  are  not  very 

well  in  this  world  ;  but  they  are  pretty  well ;  they  might  have  been  worfe,  and  as  they  are,  may 
pleafe  us,  who  have  but  a  few  ihort  days  to  ufe  them.  This  fcene  of  affairs,  though  a  very  perplexed, 
is  a  very  (hort  one ;  and  in  a  little  all  will  be  cleared  up.  Let  us  endeavour  te  pleafe  God,  our  fel 
low  creatures,  and  ourfelves.  In  fuch  a  courfe  of  life,  we  (hall  be  as  happy  as  we  can  be  in  fuch  a 
<vorld  as  this.  Thus  you,  who  cultivate  your  faim  with  your  own  hands,  and  I,  who  teach  a  dozen 
blockheads  for  bread,  maybe  happier  than  he,  who,  having  more  than  he  can  ufe,  tortures  his  brain 
to  invent  new  methods  of  killing  himfelf  with  the  fuperflaity.'* 

At  this  place,  he  began  and  finifhed  his  poem  called  Lochle-ven  ;  of  which  he  gives  the  following 
humorous  account  to  Mr.  Arnot,  in  the  letter  above  quoted.  "  I  have  wrote  a  few  lines  of  a  de- 
fcriptive  poem,  cui  titulus  eft,  Locbleven ;  you  may  remember  you  hinted  fuch  a  thing  to  me  ;  fo  I 
have  fet  about  it,  and  you  may  expecl:  a  dedication.  I  hope  it  will  foon  be  finifhed,  as  I  every  week 
add  two  lines,  blot  out  fix,  and  alter  eight.  You  fliall  hear  the  plan  when  I  know  it  myfelf." 

Of  fome  part  of  the  fcenery  of  Loc ble <ue a,  he  gives  the  following  account  in  a  letter  to  Mr; 
Pearfon,  Dec.  7.  1766.  "  On  the  day  before  St.  Luke's  fair  in  Kinrofs,  I  made  a  voyage  to  the  Intfi 
of  Loc hleven,  that  being  the  time,  you  know,  at  which  they  bring  the  cattle  out  of  it.  The  middle 
and  higheft  part  of  it,  is  covered  with  ruins.  The  foundations  are  viable  enough,  and  it  feems  to 
have  been  a  very  large  building.  The  whole  is  divided  into  a  great  many  little  fquares,  from  which 
it  appears  not  an  unplaufible  conjedlure,  that  ngt  only  a  church,  as  they  tell  us,  but  a  monaftery  had 
flood  in  it.  To  the  weftward  of  this,  and  in  the  lower  ground,  a  deep  dyke,  in  the  form  of  a  trench, 
is  cut  on  the  north  and  eaft  fides  of  a  plain  piece  of  ground,  not  unlike  a  bowling-green.  I  can  give 
no  guefs  at  the  ufe  of  this,  though  it  evidently  appears  to  be  the  work  of  art.  I  fought  among  the 
ruins,  and  on  the  Hone  of  the  little  houfe  which  ftands  in  it,  for  fome  marks  or  infcriptions,  but  to  no 
purpofe.  I  could  find  nothing  farther  to  affift  my  conjectures.  I  would  have  examined  [a  word  it 
•wanting  here  in  the  MS.],  had  not  the  fifliers  been  in  fuch  a  hurry  to  be  gone.  They  who 
confider  it  in  no  other  view,  than  as  capable  of  feeding  a  dozen  or  fourteen  cattle,  when  their  work 
was  over,  would  not  ftay  a  minute  longer,  had  it  been  to  difcover  the  great  toe  of  St.  Moak,  who  is  J 
buried  there.  My  defcription  of  it,  in  the  poem  Lofbleven  (which  by  the  by  is  now  finifhed),  runs 
thus: 

Fronting  where  Gairn)-  pours  his  lilent  ftream 
Into  the  lake,  an  iflaud  lifts  its  head, 
Grafly  and  wild,  Sec. 

The  poem  is  addreffed  to  Mr.  Aruot,  whofe  charaxfler  he  has  drawn  to  great  advantage,  under 
the  name  of  Agruola, 


-The  wife,  the  good, 


By  nature  formed  for  the  calm  retreat ; 

The  fileht  path  of  life,  learn'd,  but  not  fraught 

With  felf-iinportance- 

Enamour'd  of  the  (lia.de,  but  not  morofe. 

Politenefs,  rais'd  in  courts  by  frugal  rules. 

With  him  fpontaneous  grows.     Not  books  alone,. 

But  man  his  ftudy,  and  the  better  part ; 

To  tread  the  ways  of  virtue,  and  to  act 

The  various  fceaes  of  life  with  God's  applaufe. 

He  is  fuppofed  to  have  commemorated  his  friend  Henderfon  in  the  following  lines,  under  the  name' 
of  Lxlius. 

Nor  (hall  the  mufe  forget  thy  friendly  heart, 
O  Lcelhts .'  partner  of  my  youthfnl  hours : 
How  often,  riling  from  the  bed  of  peace, 
We  would  walk  forth  to  meet  the  fommer  morn, 
Inhaling  health,  and  harmony  of  mind ; 
Philosophers  and  friends——— 

He  alludes,  very  pathetically,  to  the  unfavourable  circumftances  in  which  it  was  written,  in  the 
following  lines,  at  the  conclufion : 

Thus  fung  the  youth,  amid  unfertile  wilds, 
-  unpoetic  ground ! 


THE  LIFE  OF  BRUCE".  177 

Far  from  his  friends  he  ftray'd,  recording  thus 
The  dear  remembrance  of  his  native  fields, 
To  cheer  the  tedious  night ;  while  flow  difeafe 
Prey'd  on  his  pininjr  vitals,  and  the  blafts 
Of  dark  December  ftiook  his  humble  cot. 

tn  Novemberi766,  he  loft  his  friend  Dryburgh.  In  the  conclufion  of  a  letter  to  Mr.  Pear- 
Ion,  Nov.  20.  accompanied  by  fome  lines  to  Dr.  Millar,  written  for  him  in  teftimony  of  his 
gratitude,  on  his  recovery  from  ficknefs;  he  exprefies  his  feelings  on  this  mournful  event  in  a  drain 
cf  exquifite  tendernefs,  and  fublime  piety  :  "  I  have  not  many  friends,  but  I  love  them  well.  Scarce 
one  enjoys  the  fmiles  of  this  world  in  every  refpecl ;  and  in  every  friend  I  fuffer.  Death  has  been 
among  the  few  I  have.  Poor  Dryburgh  !  but  he's  happy.  I  expected  to  have  been  his  companion 
through  life,  and  that  we  mould  have  ftept  into  the  grave  together.  But  Heaven  has  feen  meet  to 
difpofe  of  him  otherwife. — What  think  you  of  this  world  ?  I  think  it  is  very  little  worth.  You  and 
I  have  not  a  great  deal  to  make  us  fond  of  it.  And  yet  I  would  not  change  my  condition  with  the 
moft  wealthy  unfeeling  fool  in  the  univerfe,  if  I  were  to  have  his  dull  hard  heart  into  the  bargain.— 
Farewell,  my  rival  in  immortal  hope!  my  companion  (1  truft)  for  eternity.  Though  far  diflant,  I 
take  thee  to  my  heart.  Souls  fuffer  no  feparation  from  the  obftruction  of  matter  or  diftance  of  place. 
Oceans  may  roll  between  us,  and  climates  interpofe  in  vain.  The  whole  material  creation  is  no  bar 
to  the  winged  mind.  Farewell,  through  boundlefs  ages,  fare  thou  well.  May'ft  thou  mine  when 
the  fun  is  darkened.  May'ft  thou  live  and  triumph  when  time  expires.  It  is  at  leaft  poflible  we 
may  meet  no  more  in  this  foreign  land,  this  gloomy  apartment  of  the  univerfe  of  God.  But  there 
is  a  better  world  in  which  we  may  meet  to  part  no  more.  Adieu !" 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Pearfon,  dated  December  24,  he  laments  his  feclufion  from  the  world,  and  re 
flects  on  the  hardfhips  which  poverty  laid  on  his  delicate  frame,  and  too  fufceptiblc  mind,  in  a 
it  rain  of  tender  melancholy,  which  cannot  fail  to  awaken  the  fympatfiy  of  every  reader  of  fenfibi- 
lity.  "  It  is  more  than  probable,  the  next  you  receive  from  me  (if  ever  you  receive  another),  will 
bear  date  1/67.  1  can  remember,  I  could  write  (or  at  leaft  fcratch)  my  name  with  the  year  1752. 
In  that  year  I  learnt  the  elements  of  pencraft ;  and  it  is  now  fourteen  years  fince ;  a  goodly  term  for 
one  to  be  a  fcholar  all  that  time.  And  what  have  I  learned  ?  Much  that  I  need  to  unlearn  ;  and  I 
have  nled  that  one  fhould  teach  me  this — that  I  know  nothing. — 1  lead  a  n^lancholy  kind  of  life  in, 
this  place.  I  am  not  fond  of  company.  But  it  is  not  good  that  a  man  be^ftill  alone.  And  here  I 
can  have  no  company,  but  what  is  worfc  than  folitude.  If  I  had  not  a  lively  imagination,  I  believe 
1  mould  fall  into  a  ftate  of  ftupidity  and  delirium.  I  have  fome  evening  fcholars;  the  attending  on 
\vhom,  though^ew,  fo  fatigues  me,  that  the  reft  of  the  night  I  am  quite  dull  and  low-fpirited.  Yet 
I  have  fome  lucid  intervals,  in  the  time  of  whichj  can  ftudy  pretty  well.'' 

In  the  autumn  1766,  his  conftitution,  which  was  ill  calculated  to  encounter  the  auftcrities  of  his 
native  climate,  the  exertions  of  flaily  labour,  and  the  rigid  frugality  of  humble  life,  began  vifibly  to 
decline.  Towards  the  end  of  the  year,  his  ill  health,  aggravated  by  the  indigence  of  his  fituation, 
and  the  want  of  thofe  comforts  and  conveniences  which  might  have  foftered  a  delicate  frame,  to  ma 
turity  and  length  of  days,  terminated  in  a  deep  confumption. 

During  the  winter,  he  quitted  his  employment  at  Forreft-Mill,  and  with  it  all  hopes  of  life,  and 
returned  to  his  native  tillage,  to  receive  thofe  attentions  and  confolations  which  his  fituation  required, 
from  the  anxiety  of  parental  affection,  and  the  fympathy  of  friendfhip.  Convinced  of  the  hopelefs 
nature  of  his  difeafe,  and  feeling  himfelf  every  day  declining,  he  contemplated  the  approaches  of  death 
with  calmnefs  and  rcfignation,  and  continued  at  intervals  to  compofe  verfes,  and  to  correfpond  with 
his  friends. 

His  laft  letter  to  Mr.  Pearfon  (a  copy  of  which  is  preferred  in  the  hand-writing  of  Mr,  Birrel), 
concludes  with  an  Allegorical  Defcription  of  Human  Life,  at  once  fo  beautiful  and  fo  interefting,  that 
it  is  impofiible  to  avoid  tranfcribing  it.     It  ftrongly  reminds  us  of  Addifon's  "  Vifion  of  Mirza.'' 
"  If  morning  dreams  prefage  approaching  fate, 
And  morning  dreams,  as  poets  tell,  are  true; 
Led  by  pale  ghofls,  I  enter  death's  dark  gate, 
And  bid  this  life,  and  all  the  world,  adieu  1 

"  A  few  mornings  ago,  as  I  was  taking  my  walk  on  an  eminence,  which  commands  a  view  of  the 
Forth,  with  the  veffels  failing  along,  I  fat  d.own,  and  taking  out  my  Latin  Bible,  opened  by  accident 

S  iij 


a;*  THE   LIFE   OF   BRUCE. 

at  a  place  in  the  book  of  Job,  ix.  25.  "  Now  my  days  are  paffed  away  as  the  fwift  fhips."  Shutting 
the  book,  I  fell  a  mufing  on  this  affecting  comparifon.  Whether  the  following  happened  to  me  in  a 
dream  or  waking  reverie,  I  cannot  tell..  But,  I  fancied  myfelf  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  or  fea,  the 
oppofite  fide  of  which  was-hid  from  view,  being  involved  in  clouds  of  mift.  On  the  fhore  flood  a 
multitude,  which  ne  man  could  number,  waiting  for  paffage.  I  faw  a  great  many  {hips  taking  in  paf- 
fengers,  and  feveral  perfons  going  about  in  the  garb  of  pilots  offering  their  fervice.  Being  ignorant 
and  curious  to  know  what  all  thefe  things  meant,  I  applied  to  a  grave  old  man  who  flood  by,  giving 
inflruclions  to  the  departing  pafTengers.  His  name,  I  remember,  was  the  Genius  of  Human  Life.  "  My 
fon,"  faid  ho,  "  you  ftand  on  the  banks  of  the  ftream  of  Tims;  all  thefe  people  'are  bound  for  Eternity , 
that  undifcovered  country  from  whence  no  traveller  ever  returns.  The  country  is  very  large,  and  di 
vided  into  two  parts ;  the  one  is  called  the  Land  of  Glory,  the  other  the  Kingdom  of  Darknefs.  The 
names  of  thefe  in  the  garb  of  pilots,  are,  Religion,  Virtue,  Plcafure,  They  who  are  fo  wife  as  to 
choofe  Religion  for  their  guide,  have  a  fafe,  though  frequently  a  rough  paffage ;  they  are  at  laft  land 
ed  in  the  happy  climes,  where  fighing  and  forrow  for  ever  fly  away  ;  they  have  likewife  a  fecondary 
director,  Virtue ;  but  there  is  a  fpurious  Virtue  who  pretends  to  govern  by  himfelf ;  but  the  wretches 
who  truft  to  him,  as  well  as  thefe  who  have  Pltafure  for  their  pilot,  are  either  fhipwrecked,  or  caft 
away  on  the  Kingdom  cf  Darknefs.  But  the  vefTel  in  which  you  muft  embark,  approaches ;  you  muft 
begone  ;  remember  what  depends  upon  your  conduct. ''-—No  fooner  had  he  left  me,  than  I  found  my 
felf  furrounded  by  thofe  pilots  I  mentioned  before  ;  immediately  I  forgot  all  that  the  old  man  faid  to 
me ;  and,  fcduced  by  the  fair  promifes  of  P  leaf  are ,  chofe  him  for  my  director ;  we  weighed  anchor 
with  a  fair  gale,  the  fky  ferene,  the  fea  calm;  innumerable  little  ifles  lifted  their  green  heads  around 
us,  covered  with  trees  in  full  bloffom  ;  diflblvcd  in  ftupid  mirth,  we  were  carried  on,  regardlefs  of 
the  pafl,  of  the  future  unmindful.  On  a  luddcn,  the  fky  was  darkened,  the  winds  roared,  the  feas 
raged,  red  rofe  the  fand  from  the  bottom  of  the  troubled  deep,  the  angel  of  the  waters  lifted  up  his 
voice.  At  that  inftant  a  flrong  fhip  pafled  by ;  I  faw  Religion  at  the  helm ;  "  Come  out  from  among 
them,"  he  crkd.  I  and  a  few  others  threw  ourfelves  out  into  his  fhip.  The  wretches  we  left  were 
now  tofTed  on  the  fwelling  deep,  the  waters  on  every  fide  poured  through  the  riven  veffel ;  they 
curfed  the  Lord  ;— when  lo!  a  fiend  rofe  from  the  deep,  and  in  a  voice  like  diflant  thunder,  thus 
fpoke,  "  I  am  Abaddon,  the  firft-born  of  Death,  ye  are  my  prey,  open  then  abyfs  to  receive  them." 
As  he  thus  fpoke,  they  fuflk,  and  the  waves  clofed  over  their  heads.  The  ftorni  was  turned  into  a  calm, 
and  we  heard  a  voice  faying,  "  Fear  not,  I  am  with  you ;  when  you  pafs  through  the  waters,  they  fhall 
not  overflow  you."  Our  hearts. were  filled  with  jov'^I  was  engaged  in  difcourfe  with  one  of  my  new 
companions,  when  one  from  tbe  top  of  the  maft,  cf  ied  o~at,  "  Courage,  my  friends,  I  fea  the  fair  haven, 
the  land  that  is  yet  afar  off."  Looking  up,  1  found  it  was  a  certain  friend,  who  had  mounted  up  for 
the  benefit  of  contemplating  the  country  before  him ;  upon  feeing  you,  I  was  fo  affected,  I  ftarted 
and  awaked.  Farewell !  my  friend,  farewell !'' 

He  lingered  through  tke  winter ;  and  in  the  fpring,  he  wrote  an  Elegy  on  his  own  approaching 
death,  in  which  he  inferted  the  fb.nza  above  quoted,  with  fome  alterations.  This  was  the  laft  com- 
pofuion  he  lived  to  finifh.  By  degrees  his  weaknefs  increafed,  till  he  was  worn  gradually  away  ; 
and  he  expired  July  6.  1767,  in  the  2ifl  year  of  his  age.  His  life  was  innocent,  and  his  end  pious. 
His  father  furvived  him  feveral  years.  His  mother  is  now  living  in  the  86th  year  of  her  age,  Weigh 
ed  down  by  accumulated  dillrefles,  fhe  ftill  cherifhes  his  memory  with  tendernefs,  and  derives  a  kind 
of  mournful  confohtion  from  the  occafional  bounty  of  fome  gentlemen,  who  were  warm  admirers, 
of  his  merit. 

Soon  after  his  death,  his  poems  were  fubjected  to  the  revifal  and  correction  of  his  friend  Logan, 
who  gave  therrr  to  the'  world  in  a  fmall  duodecimo  volume,  intituled,  Poems  on  Several  Occafont,  by 
Mifbad  Bruce,  printed  at  Edinburgh  in  1770,  probably  by  fubfcription,  as  it  was  not  advertifed  for 
file,  with  a  preface,'  containing  a  fhort  account  of  his  life  and  character. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  no  account  is  given  in  the  prefa.ce,  of  the  ftate  in  which  the  poems  came  in-r 
to  the  editor'*  pofleffion,  nor  of  the  proccfs  which  he  obferved  in  preparing  them  for  publication. 

As  the  practice  of  making  one  writer  fpeak  by  the  fenfe  of  another,  has  a  tendency  to  confound 
the  claims  of  individual  merit,  it  is  to  b'e,  regretted,  that  Logan  withheld  from  the  public  an  account 
of  the  fhare  which  he  bad  ia  the  pu.bika.tiyu. 


THE   LIFE   OF   BRUCE.  :;,) 

According  to  the  information  of  Dr.  Baird,  the  ballad  of  Sir  James  tie  Rnfs,  and  the  ftory  of 
Lomond  and  Le-vina,  in  the  poem  Locbleveti,  are  fuppofed  to  have  received  confiderable  additions  and 
embelliftments  from  the  pen  of  Logan ;  and  it  muft  not  be  concealed,  that  in  a  MS.  copy  of  Locb- 
itvtn,  in  Dr.  Baird's  pofieffion,  this  fictitious  incident,  as  it  now  {lands,  appears  to  have  received  an 
addition  of  about  100  lines.  If  this  copy  received  the  laft  revifion  of  Bruce,  the  evidence  of  the  fup 
pofed  interpolation  might  be  admifiible  ;  but,  as  it  is  not  faid  to  be  the  identical  copy  given  to  Logan, 
and  as  the  additions  are  fo  confonant  to  the  ftyle  of  the  poeni,  it  is  probable  that  the  fupplementai  lint; 
might  be  the  refult  of  a  fubfeqraent  revifion.  Sir  James  tic  Rtfs  was  printed  in  a  newfpaper  in 
Brace's  life.time ;  and,  according  to  the  information  of  a  friend  who  law  it  i'ome  years  ago,  in  tha 
pofiefiion  of  a  lady,  it  is  not  remarkably  different  from  the  ballad  as  it  ftands  in.  Logan's  edition. 

"  To  make  up  a  mifcellany,"  fays  the  preface,  "  feme  poems  wrote  by  different  authors,  are  in- 
ferted,  all  of  them  originals,  and  none  of  them  deftitute  of  merit.  The  reader  of  tafte  will  eafily 
diflinguifh  them  from  thofe  of  Mr.  Bruce,  without  their  being  particularifed  by  any  mark." 

The  propriety  of  uniting  the  poems  of  Bruce,  and  the  "  poems  of  different  authors,"  in  the  fame 
publication,  may  be  reafonably  doubted ;  efpecially  as  they  have  no  apparent  refsmblance  or  poetical 
relation  ;  but,  undoubtedly,  the  pieces  belonging  to  Bruce  ought  to  have  been  diflinguifhed  by  fome 
particular  mark ;  for  the  internal  evidence,  as  the  prefcnt  writer  has  experienced  in  feveral  initances, 
is  a  fallacious  and  uncertain  diftinction. 

Of  this  poetical  mifcellany,  The  E"^le,  Croio,  and  Shepherd,  a  fable ;  Alexis,  a  pajloral ;  Dafl'nis,  a  mo 
nody  ;  Anacreontic  to  a  Wafp  ;  The  Moi/fiaJ  ;  LoMe-jcn^  and  the  •  Elegy  written  in  Spring, — are  the  only 
pieces  which  Dr.  Baird  affigns  to  Bruce.  The  prefent  writer  has  ventured  to  give  him  A  Prjioral  Song, 
and  Sir  James  the  Rofs,  upon  evidence  which  Dr.  Baird  admits,  with  fome  exceptions  in  favour  of 
Logan  ;  and  he  is  unwilling  to  deprive  him  of  the  Dant/L  OJet,  which  have  exceeding  merit,  and  have 
not  been  claimed  by  Logan.  The  "  Ode  to  a  Cuckoo,"  and  the  «  Chorvs  of  Elyfian  Bards,"  were 
contributed  by  Logan.  The  "  Vernal-Ode"  is  attributed  to  the  late  Sir  James  Foulis,  Bart,  of  Col- 
lington.  Of  the  remaining  pieces  the  authors  are  unknown. 

The  attention  of  the  public  having  been  called  to  this  collection,  by  Lord  Craig,  in  the  «  Mirror" 
1779,  it  was  reprinted  in  nmo,  1784.  A  new  edition,  including  feveral  of  his  unpublifhed  pieces, 
which  had  not  been  fubmitted  to  the  infpection  of  Logan,  A  Poem  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Stul,  Phi- 
lodes,  an  elegy,  The  Vanity  of  our  Defire  of  Immortality,  A  Story  in  the  Eajlern  Manner,  &c.  is  now  print 
ing  at  Edinburgh,  for  the  benefit  of  his  mother,  under  the  fuperintendence  of  Dr.  Baird.  .A  fub- 
fcription  has  been  opened  for  that  purpofe  ;  and  there  feems  little  doubt,  from  the  zeal  with  which 
individuals,  prompted  at  once  by  benevolence,  and  the  admiration  of  genius,  have  come  forward, 
that  a  fum  will  be  raifed  equal  to  the  old  woman's  comfortable  maintenance  during  the  latter  days 
of  her  life. 

His  poems,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1770,  together  with  Locllrven  no  mere,  reprinted  from  the 
"  Edinburgh  Magazine,"  the  Elegy  en  Mr.  M'Etven,  and  Verfa  to  Dr.  Millar,  felected  by  the  pre 
fent  writer  from  his  MS.  letters,  are  now,  for  the  firft  time,  received  into  a  collection  of  claflical 
Englifh  poetry.  Copies  of  his  unpublifhed  pieces,  revifed  by  a  friend  of  Dr.  Baird,  have  been  pro- 
mifed  by  the  learned  editor,  and,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  communicated  in  due  time  for  the  ufe  of 
this  edition.  Some  anonymous  Elegiac  Vcrfa  w  tie  Death  of  Michael  Bruce  arc  reprinted  from  the 
fourth  volume  of  the  "  Afylum  for  Fugitive  Pieces,"  1793. 

His  character  may  be  eafily  collected  from  this  account  of  his  life.  It  was  truly  amiable  and  re- 
fpectable.  In  his  manners,  he  was  modeft,  gentle,  and  mild  ;  in  his  difpofition,  he  was  friendly,  af 
fectionate,  and  ingenuous.  He  united  an  ardent  and  enlightened  fenfe  of  religion,  with  a  lively  ima 
gination  and  a  feeling  heart.  Tendernefs,  in  every  fenfe  of  the  word,  and  piety,  equally  remote  from 
enthufiafm  and  fuperflition,  were  his  peculiar  characteriftics. 

«  Michael  Bruce  lives  now  no  more,"  fays  Logan,  who  knew  him  well,  "  but  in  the  remembrance 
of  his  friends.  No  lefs  amiable  as  a  man,  than  valuable  as  a  writer ;  endowed  with  good  nature  and 
good  fenfe,  humane,  friendly,  benevolent;  he  loved  his  friends,  and  was  beloved  by  them  with  a  de 
gree  of  ardour  that  is  only  experienced  in  the  era  of  youth  and  innocence." 

«  Nothing,  methinks,"  fays  Lord  Craig,  "  has  more  the  power  of  awakening  benevolence,  than 
the  confideration  of  genius,  thus  depreffed  by  fituation,  fuffered  to  pine  in  obfcurity,  and  fometime* 
as  in  the  cafe  of  this  unfortunate  young  man,  to  perifh,  it  may  be,  for  want  of  thofe  comforts  and 

S  iiij 


!$q  THE   LIFE   OF   BRUCE. 

cpnvenicndes  Which  might  have  foftered  a  delicacy  of  frame,  or  of  mind,  ill  calculated  to  bear  tl« 
hardfhips  which  poverty  lays  on  both.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  pafs  the  place  (a  little  hamlet:, 
fkirtcd  with  a  circle  of  old  oak  trees,  about  three  miles  on  thi*  fide  of  lyinrofs)  where  Michael  Bruce 
refided  i  I  never  look  on  his  dwelling,  a  fmall  thatched  hpufe,  diftinguifued  from  the  cottages  of  the 
other  inhabitants  only  by  a  fa/bed  ivindoiv  at  the  end,  inftead  of  a  lattice,  fringed  with  a  Loneyfuckle 
plant,  which  the  poor  youth  had  trained  around  it;  I  never  find  niyfelf  in  that  fpot,  but  I  flop  my 
horfe  involuntarily  ;  and  looking  on  the  window,  which  the  honeyfuckle  has  now  almpft  covered,  in 
the  dream  of  the  moment,  I  picture  out  a  figure  for  the  gentle  tenant  of  the  manfiqn  •,  }  wrfh,  and 
my  heart  fwells  while  I  do  fo,  that  he  were  alive,  and  that  1  were  a  great  man,  to  have  the  luxury 
of  vifiting  him  there,  and  bidding  him  be  happy." 

As  a  poet,  he  is  characterized  by  elegance,  fimplicity,  and  tendernefs,  jnore  than  fublimity,  inven 
tion,  or  enthufiafrn.  He  has  more  judgment  and  feeling,  than  genius  or  imagination.  He  is  an  ele 
gant  and  pleafing,  though  not  a  very  animated  or  original  writer.  His  compofitions  are  the  pro 
duction  of  a  tender  fancy,  a  cultivated  tafle,  and  a  benevolent  mind;  and  are  diftinguifhed  by  an 
amiable  delicacy,  and  fimplicity  of  fentiment,  and  a  graceful  plainnefs  of  expreflion,  free  from  the. 
affectation  of  an  inflated  diction,  and  a  profufion  of  imagery,  fo  common  in  juvenile  productions. 
His  thoughts  are  often  finking,  fometimes  new,  and  always  juft ;  and  his  verification,  though  nbt 
cxquifiteiy  polifhed,  is  commonly  eafy  and  harmonious. 

His  LocbLc-vcn  is  the  longeft  and  nloft  elaborate  of  his  poetical  compofitions.  H  is  a  defcriptive 
poem,  written  in  blank  verfe,  the  fhucture  of  which  he  feems  to  have  particularly  ftudied,  as  it  ex 
hibits  a  fpecimen  of  confiderable  ftrength  and  harmony  in  that  meafure.  Though  the  nature  of  tho 
fubject  approaches  nearly  to  that  of  Thomfon,  of  whom  he  was  a  great  admirer,  his  ftyle  is  very 
different,  being  wholly  free  from  that  unnatural  fwell  and  pomp  of  words,  which  too  often  disfigure 
the  beautiful  defcriptions  of  Thomfon.  It  reprefents  an  extenfive  and  beautiful  profpect  in  an  ani 
mated  and  pleafing  manner.  It  has  much  appropriate  defcription  and  picturefque  imagery ;  and  it 
is  rendered  interefting  by  poetical  fictions,  hiftorjcal  allufions,  and  moral  reflections.  But  it  is  no^ 
without  defects  ;  there  is  a  redundance  of  thought  in  fome  inflances,  and  a  carelefthefs  of  language  in 
others.  He  has,  however,  availed  himfelf  of  every  circumftacce  that  could  with  propriety  be  introduc 
ed  to  decorate  his  poem.  The  ftory  of  Lomcnd  and  Le-vina  is  happily  introduced,  and  fimply  and  pleaf- 
ingly  related.  It  is  faid  to  have  been  enlarged  by  I.ogan,  and  is'perhaps  too  long.  The  picture  of 
the  man  of  forroivs  ne-w  rifenfrom  the  bed  of  pain  is  natural  and  ftriking.  Lochlfjen  CaJ}le,  the  Inch,  the 
Limeftone  Quarries,  the  rivers  Pa,  Queccb,  Lcven,  and  Gairny,  "  on  whofe  banks  he  firft  tuned  the  Do- 
Tic  reed,",  arc  graphically  and  poetically  defcribed.  The  compliment  to  Lalius  is  a  pleafing  digrel- 
.fion,  and  the  defcription  of  the  character  and  dwelling  of  Agricola,  towards  the  conclufion,  has  great 
merit.  The  poem  is  local ;  and  though  local  defcription  is  far  more  adapted  to  the  pencil  than  the 
pen,  yet  it  will  be  perufed  with  delight  by  poetical  lovers  of  rural  imagery;  and  muft  be  peculiarly 
pleafing  to  thofe  who  are  familiar  with  the  picturefque  fcenery  of  Locile-vcn. 

His  Daphnis  is  an  elegy  on  a  deceafed  friend,  written  in  the  paftoral  form,  and,  in  general,  well 
preferves  the  rural  character.  It  has,  however,  but  little  of  the  bucolic  cant,  now  fo  fafhionable.  If 
any  trite  rural  topics  occur,  they  are  heightened  and  adorned  with  the  graces  of  fentiment,  and  the 
moft  delicate  touches  of.  picturefque  beauty.  It  may  be  confidercd  as  an  effufion  of  mellowed  for- 
row,  which  can  recapitulate  paft  pleafures,  in  all  their  minutiaj  of  circumftance  and  fituation,  and 
felect  fuch  images  as  are  proper  to  the  kind  of  compofition  in  which  it  choofes  to  convey  itfelf.  It 
is  a  profeffed  imitation  of  Milton's  "  Lycidas,"  in  which  there  is  perhaps  more  poetry  than  forrovv ; 
but  the  poetry  is  v\  fuch  an  exquifitc  ilrain,  that  he.vyho  defires  to  know,  whether  he  has  a  true 
tafie  for  poetry  or  not,  fhould  confider  whether  he  is  highly  delighted  or  not  with  the  perufal  of 
«'  Lycidas."  Whether  it  fhould  be  confidercd  as  a  model  of  compofition,  has  been  doubted.  Some 
have  fuppofed  that  the  arbitrary  difpofition  of  the  rhymes  produces  a  wild  melody,  adapted  to  the 
cxpreffion  of  forrow;  and  others  have  thought  the  couplet  and  tetraffcic,  with  their  ftated  returns  of 
rhyme,  preferable.  To  decide  the  point  might  be  difficult ;  but  if  the  enthufiafin  and  beauty  of  the 
poetry  could  not  reconcile  Dr.  Johnfon  to  the  "  uncertain  rhymes"  of  "  Lycidas,"  the  common 
readers  of  poetry  will  probably  incline  to  favour  the  regular  form.  With  Milton  in  view,  Bruce  is 
not  a  for  vile  imitator.  He  has  an  original  manner  of  his  own.  Milton  is  his  model  for  verification^ 
and  he  fometimes  copies  his  thoughts  and  his  language.  But  his  poem  is  not  a  perpetual  tiffue  of 


THE  LIFE  OF  BRUCE.  2Xr 

the  ohfolctc  phrafeology,  Gothic  combinations,  remote  allufions,  obfcurc  opinions,  and  mythological 
f  erfonages  of  "  Lycidas."  The  poem,  as  it  now  {lands,  has  leveral  lines  which  arc  not  in  the  copy 
fent  to  Mr.  Arnot;  the  refult,  probably,  of  a  fubfcqucnt  emendation. 

Of  his  Alexis,  the  principal  merit  coniills  in  the  fimplicity  of  the  language,  and  the  harmony  of  die 
yerfification.  The  images  are  not  new,  and  the  defcriptions  and  fcntimcnts  are  trite  and  common. 

His  Sir  James  the  Rofs  is  probably  "  the  poem  in  "  the  Journal,"  which  was  wrote,"  lie  tclk  Mr. 
Pearfon, "  in  one  afternoon,  begun  about  four,  and  finifhed  before  1  went  to  bed.  I  never  tried  any 
thing  which  fell  in  with  my  inclination  fo.  The  Hijlorical  Ballad  is  a  fpecies  of  writing  by  itfelf. 
The  common  people  confound  it  with  the  Song,  but  in  truth  they  are  widely  different.  A, Song  ihould 
never  be  historical.  It  is  founded  generafiy  sn  fome  one  thought,  which  muft  be  profecuted  and  ex 
hibited  in  every  light,  with  a  quicknefs  and  turn  of  expreffion  peculiar  to  itfelf.  The  Ballad,  again, 
Is  founded  on  fome  paffage  of  hiilory,  or  (what  fuits  its  nature  better)  of  tradition.  Here  the  poet 
may  ufe  his  liberty,  and  cut  and  carve  as  he  .has  a  mind.  I  think  it  a  kind  of  writing  remarkably 
adapted  to  the  Scottifli  language."  The  diitindUon  is  juft,  and  beautifully  exemplified.  The  hifto- 
rical  ballad  demands  the  niceft  execution,  and  the  moft  artful  management.  The  fimplicity  that 
fuits  it  is  even  unattainable  by  genius,  without  that  chafHfed  tafte  which  i'eldom  appears  in  poets  of 
the  higheft  clafs.  It  admits  of  magnificence  of  ideas,  and  of  the  fublimc;  but  (hould  be  careful  not 
to  deviate  from  nature.  The  marvellous  uir,  and  the  fupernatural  aftors,  which  figure  and  pleafc 
in  the  grandeur  of  the  epic,  would  here  l>c  extravagant  and  difprcportioncd.  The  incidents  ihould 
be  ftriking-,  the  fituations  important,  and  tending  to  forward  the  action,  the  defign  •without  per 
plexity,  the  parts  in  proper  relation  to  it,  and  to  each  other,  the  fcntiments  delicate  and  noble.  To 
thefe  requifues,  Sir  Jamts  the  Rofs  is,  in  general,  conformable.  Whether  we  confider  the  beautiful 
finiplicity  of  the  ftory,  the  delicacy  of  its  fituations,  the  pathos  of  its  difcoveries^,  the  exact  delinea 
tion  of  the  manners  of  the  times  to  which  it  refers,  the  genuine  ftrokes  of  nature  and  of  paflion,  or 
the  unremitting  animation  of  the  whole,  we  cannot  but  highly  admire  the  mixture  it  exhibits  of  ge 
nius  and  of  art.  The  ftory  on  which  it  is  founded,  though  romantic,  is  interefting,  and  the  more  fo, 
as  there  is  reafon  to  believe  it  is  in  fome  meafure  authentic.  It  is  a  tale  of  tendernefs  and  diftrefs; 
and  challenges  a  place  with  the  "  Hardyknute"  of  his  countryman,  Sir  John  Bruce  of  Kinrofs,  the 
"  Owen  of  Carron"  of  Langhorne,  and  other  fuccefsful  imitations  of  the  ancient  hiflorical  ballad. 
This  exquifite  ballad  is  faid  to  have  received  fome  embellifhments  from  Logan. 

His  Danijb  Ode;  are  competitions  of  a  fuperior  order.  They  pofTefs,  in  an  uncommon  degree,  the 
true  fire  of  poetry,  and  harmony  of  verfification.  They  appear  to  be  modelled  upon  the  "  Norfe 
Odes"  of  Gray,  and,  in  their  contexture. and  tone,  are  much  in  the  wild  and  -wizard  drains  of  hi* 
Runic  lyre.  He  probably  thought  this  kind  of  minftrelfy  beft  adapted  fo  exprefs  the  magic  myfte- 
ries  and  romantic  enthufiafm  of  the  Gothic  mythology.  Affuming  the  fire  and  enthufiafm  of  the 
old  Runic  bards,  he  gives  full  fcope  to  the  wildnefs  of  a  glowing  imagination,  and  the  energy  of 
forcible  conception.  But  his  ideas  of  Scandinavian  poetry  feem  to  have  rifen  no  higher  than  the 
imitations  of  Gray,  which  are  in  all  probability  fuch  as  he  alone  was  capable  of  making  them.  They 
are  injlinfl  -with  Jire  and  poetical  enthufiafm.  They  are  in  perfection  tbc  cntfjufiajlic  words — tic  ii-orJt 
that  burn — of  the  mufes.  In  fublimity  of  conception,  grandeur  of  imagery,  and  magnificence  of 
phrafeology,  he  is  inferior  to  Gray ;  but  he  has  more  fimplicity,  perfpicuity,  and  elegance.  His  firlt 
Ode,  ill  particular,  breathes  the  high  fpirit  of  lyric  enthufiafm.  It  is  truly  Runic,  and  truly  Grayan. 

His  Elegy,  ivrittey  in  Spring,  is  characterized  by  energy,  fimplicity,  pathos,  and  melody,  in  the 
higheft  degree.  From  the  circumftances  in  wh,ich  it  was  written,  the  nature  of  its  fubject,  and  the 
merit  of  its  execution,  it  has  obtained  an  uncommon  (hare  of  popularity.  The  influences  and  effects 
of  Spring  are  expreifed  by  a  felection  of  fuch  imagery  as  are  adapted  to  ftrike  the  imagination  by 
lively  pictures.  The  manner  in  which  he  defcribes  its  effects  upon  himfelf,  is  fo  pathetically  cir- 
cumftantial,  and  fo  univerfally  interefting,  that  it  powerfully  awakens  all  our  tenderaefs. 

but  not  to  me  returns 

The  vernal  joy  my  better  years  have  known  ; 

Dim  in  my  breaft  life's  dying  taper  burns, 
And  all  the  joys  of  life,  with  health  are  flown. 

"  A  young  man  of  genius,"  fays  Lord  Craig,  "  in  a  deep  confumption,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one , 
feeling  himfelf  every  moment  going  fafter  to  decline,  is  an  objeft  fufficicr.tly  intereftmg ;  but  hoy 


2U  THE   LIFE   OF   BRUCE. 

much  mufl  every  feeling  on  the  occafion  be  heightened,  when  we  know,  that  this  perfon  poflefled  f» 
much  dignity  and  compofure  of  mind,  as  not  only  to  contemplate  his  approaching  fate,  but  even  to 
write  a  poem  on  the  fubjecT:  1 

**  In  the  French  language,  there  is  a  much  admired  poem  of  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  written  in  ex 
pectation  of  his  own  death,  to  the  Marquis  de  la  Farre,  lamenting  his  approaching  feparation  from 
his  friend.  Michael  Bruce,  who,  it  is  probable,  never  heard  of  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  has  alfo  written 
a  poem  on  his  own  approaching  death,  which  cannot  fail  of  touching  the  heart  of  every  one  who 
reads  it." 

Several  poets  of  our  nation,  in  fimilar  circumftances,  have  left  compofitions  on  the  fame  fubje<5l ; 
and  more  than  one  poet  has  been  ambitious  of  the  fame  of  poetic  compofition,  a  few  hours  before 
the  perils  cf  an  engagement,  when  the  attention  of  moft  men  would  be  naturally  occupied  by  more 
important  concerns,  than  the  adjuftroent  of  fyllables,  or  the  modulation  of  a  period. 

Dorfet,  "  the  grace  of  courts,  the  mufe's  pride,"  on  the  day  before  the  memorable  fea-fight  in 
1665,  is  faid  to  have  compofed  the  celebrated  fong,  "  To  all  you  Ladies  now  at  Land,"  with  equal 
tranquillity  of  mind,  and  promptitude  of  wit. 

The  tender,  the  fentimental  Abbe"  de  Chaulieu,  has  left  a  poem  on  his  approaching  death,  equal 
ly  remarkable  for  elegance*  and  feeling.  Bruce  muft  have  heard  of  Dorfet,  and,  it  may  be,  of 
the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  as  he  was  no  Itranger  to  the  language  in  which  he  wrote ;  but  he  is 
purely  original  in  his  thoughts.  Nor  can  we  deny  to  him  the  praife  of  collectednefs  and  ftrength 
of  mind  in  a  fuperior  degree.  He  views,  without  difmay,  the  infidions  approaches  of  an  incurable 
difeafe,  which  generally  felecls,  for  its  prey,  the  faireft  and  moft  amiable  victims ;  and  without  pre 
tending  to  that  apathy,  furely  unnatural  to  man  in  fuch  circumftances,  he  feels  and  acknowledges 
the  gloominefs  of  his  profpeds;  but  turns  his  eyes  in  fearch  of  comfort  to  a  world  beyond  the 
grave. 

There  let  me  fleep,  forgotten  in  the  clay, 

Whtn  death  (hall  fliut  thefe  weary  aching  eyes; 
Reit  in  the  hopes  of  an  eternal  day, 

Till  the  long  night  is  gone,  and  the  laft  morn  arife. 

His  ludicrous  pieces,  the  Moufiad,  and  Anacreontic  to  a  Waff,  evince  the  verfatility  of  his  genius. 
They  are  not  void  of  humour  and  pleafantry,  but  add  little  to  his  reputation.  His  Songs  are  tender 
and  eafy  ;  and  well  preferve  the  turn  of  the  popular  ballads  which  he  imitates.  His  Verfes  to  Dr.  Mil- 
far,  and  Elegy  on  Mr-  M'Ewen,  have  fome  effufions  of  fentiment  and  delineations  of  character 
.that  are  not  without  merit;  but  they  require  no  diftincl  examination  or  particular  criticifm. 

"  IPimages  of  nature,"  fays  Logan,  "  that  are  beautiful  and  new  5  if  fentiments,  warm  from  the 
heart,  interefting  and  pathetic  ;  if  a  ftyle,  chafte  with  ornament,  and  elegant  with  fimplicity ;  if 
thefe,  and  many  other  beauties  of  nature  and  art,  are  allowed  to  cenftitute  true  poetic  merit,  the  fol 
lowing  poems  will  ftand  high  in  the  judgment  of  men  of  tafte," 


THE  WORKS  OF  BRUCE. 


POEMS. 


LOCHLEVEN.     ''** 

HAIL,  native  land  !  where  on  the  flow'ry  banks 
Of  Leven,  beauty  ever-blooming  dwells  ; 
A  wreath  of  roles,  dropping  with  the  dews 
Of  morning,  circles  her  ambrofial  locks 
I.oofe  waving  o'er  her  fhoulders ;  where  {he  treads, 
Attendant  on  her  fleps,  the  blufhing  Spring 
And  Summer  wait,  to  raife  the  various  flow'rs     - 
Beneath  her  footfleps ;  while  the  cheerful  birds 
Carol  their  joy,  and  hail  her  as  fhe  comes 
Infpiring  vernal  love  and  vernal  joy. 

Attend,  Agriccla  !  who  to  the  noife 
Of  public  life,  preferr'ft  the  calmer  fcenes 
Of  folitude,  and  fweet  domeftic  blifs, 
Joys  all  thine  own  !  attend  thy  poet's  drain, 
Who  triumphs  in  thy  friendfhip,  while  he  paints 
The  paft'ral  mountains,  the  poetic  flreanis, 
Where  raptur'd  contemplation  leads  thy  walk, 
While  Client  evening  on  the  plain  defcends. 

Between  two  mountains,  whofe  o'erwhelming 

tops, 

In  their  fvvift  courfe,  arreft  the  bellying  clouds, 
A  pleafant  valley  lies.  •  Upon  the  fouth,' 
A  narrow  op'ning  parts  the  craggy  hills ; 
Through  which  the  lake,  that  beautifies  the  vale, 
Pours  out  its  ample  waters.     Spreading  on, 
And  wid'ning  by  degrees,  it  {lretcb.es  north 
To  the  high  Ochil,  from  whofe  fnowy  top  • 
The  flreams  that  feed  the  lake  flow  thund'ring 
down. 

The  twilight  trembles  o'er  the  mifly  hills, 
Twinkling  with  dews;   and  whilft  the  bird  of 

day 

Tunes  his  ethereal  note,  and  wakes  the  wood, 
Bright  from  the  crimfon  curtains  of  the  morn,  . 
The  fun  appearing  in  his  glory,  throws 
New  robes  of  beauty  over  heaven  and  earth. 

O  now,  while  nature  fmiles  on  all  her  works, 
Oft  let  me  trace  thy  cowflip-cover'd  banks, 
O  Leven  !  and  the  landfcape  meafure  round. 
•  From  gay  Kinrofs,  whofe  (lately  tufted  groves 
Nod  o'er  th?  lake,  tranfported  let  mine  eye 
Wander  o'er  all  the  various  chcquer'd  fcene, 
Of  wilds,  and  fertile  fields,  and  glitt'ring  flreams, 
.To  ruin'd  Arnot ;  or  afcend  the  height 
Of  rocky  Lomond,  where  a  riv'let  pure 
Burflb  from  the  ground,  and  through  the  crumbled 


crags 
Tinkles  amufive* 


From  the  mountain's  top, 


Around  me  fpread,  I  fee  the  goodly  fcene  ! 
Enclofures  green,  that  promifc  to  the  fwain 
The  future  harveft. ;  many  colour'd  meads ; 
Irriguous  vales,  where  cattle  low,  and  fheep 
That  whiten  half  the  hills ;  fweet  rural  farms 
Oft  interfpers'd,  the  feats  of  pr.fl'ral  love 
And  innocence,  with  many  a  fpiry  dome 
Sacred  to  Heav'n,  around  whofe  hallow' d  walls 
Our  fathers  {lumber  in  the  narrow  houfe. 
Gay,  beauteous  villas,  bofom'd  in  the  woods, 
Like  conftellatior.s  in  the  flarry  flcy, 
Complete  the  fcene.     The  vales,  the  vocal  hills,. 
The  woods,  the  waters,  and  the  heart  of  man, 
Send  out  a  gen'ral  fong ;  'tis  beauty  all 
To  poet's  eye,  and  mufic  to  his  ear. 

Nor  is  the  fhepherd  filent  on  his  hill, 
His  flocks  around ;  nor  fchool-boys,  as  they  creep, 
Slow-pac'd,   tow'rds  fchool;    intent,   with  ouun 

pipe 
They  wake  by  turns  wild  mufic  on  the  way. 

Behold  the  man  of  forrows  hail  the  light ! 
New  rifen  from  the  bed  of  pain,  where  late, 
Tofs'd  to  and  fro  upon  a  couch  of  thorns, 
He  wak'd  the  long  dark  night,  and  wifh'd  for 

morn. 

Soon  as  he  feels  the  quick'ning  beam  of  Heav'n, 
And  balmy  breath  of  May,  among  the  fields 
And  flow'rs  he  takes  his  morning  walk :  his  heart 
Beats  with  new  life ;  his  eye  is  bright  and  blithe  ; 
Health  flrews  her  rofes  o'er  his  cheek;  rencw'd 
In  youth  and  beauty,  his  unbidden  tongue 
Pours  native  harmony,  and  lings  to  Heaven. 

In  ancient  times,  as  ancient  bards  have  fung, 
This  was  a  foreft.     Here  the  mountain-oak 
Hung  o'er  the  craggy  clifF,  while  from  its  top 
The  eagle  mark'd  his  prey ;  the  {lately  afli 
Rear'd  high  his  nervous  ftature,  while  below 
The  twining  aldeis  darken'd  all  the  fcene. 
Safe  in  the  fhade,  the  tenants  of  the  wood 
Afl'embled,  bird  and  beall.     The  turtle-dove 
Coo'd,  amorous,  all  the  live-long  fummer's  day. 
Lover  of  men,  the  piteous  redbreaft.  plain'd, 
Sole-fitting  on  the  bough.     Blithe  on  the  bufli, 
The  blackbird,  fweeteft  of  the  woodland  choir, 
Warbled  his  liquid  lay ;  to  flicphcrd  fwain 
Mellifluous  mufic,  as  his  matter's  flock, 
With  his  fair  miflrefs  and  his  faithful  dog, 
He  tended  in  the  vale:  while  leverets  round, 
In  fportive  races,  through  the  foreft  flaw 
With  feet  of  wind ;  and  vent'ring  from  the  rock, 


THE   WORKS   OF   RRUCE. 


The  fnow-white  coney  fought  liis  cv'ning  meal. 
Here  too  the  poet,  as  infpir'd  at  eve 
He  roam'd  the  dufky  wood,  or  fabled  brook 
That  piecemeal  printed  ruins  in  the  rock, 
Beheld  the  blue-eyed  fitters  of  the  ftream, 
And  heard  the  wild  note  of  the  fairy  throng 
That  charm'd  the  queen  of  heav'n,  as  round  the 

tree 

Time-hallow'd,  hand  in  hand  they  led  the  dance, 
"With  fky-hlue  mantles  glitt'ring  in  her  beam. 

Low  by  the  lake,  as  yet  without  a  name, 
Fair  bofom'd  in  the  bottom  of  the  vale, 
Arofe  a  cottage  green  with  ancient  turf, 
Half-hid  in  hoary  trees,  and  from  the  north 
Fenc'd  by  a  wood,  but  open  to  the  fun. 
Here  dwelt  a  peafant,  rev'rend  with  the  locks 
Of  age,  yet  youth  was  ruddy  on  his  cheek; 
His  farm  his  only  care ;  his  fole  delight 
To  tend  his  daughter  beautiful  and  young, 
To  watch  her  paths,  to  fill  her  lap  with  flow'rs, 
To  fee  her  fpread  into  the  bloom  of  years, 
The  perfect  picture  of  her  mother's  youth. 
His  age's  hope,  the  apple  of  his  eye, 
Belov'd  of  Heav'n,  his  fair  Levina  grew 
In  youth  and  grace,  the  naiad  of  the  vale. 
Freih  as  the  flow'r  amid  the  funny  fhow'rs 
Of  May,  and  blither  than  the  bird  of  dawn, 
Both  rofes'  bloom  gave  beauty  to  her  cheek, 
Soft-temper'd  with  a  fmile.    The  light  of  Heav'n, 
And  innocence,  illum'd  her  virgin  eye, 
L»cid  and-  lovely  as  the  morning  ftar. 
Her  breaft  was  fairer  than  the  vernal  bloom 
Of  valL'y  lily,  op'ning  in  a  fhov*7>r ; 
Fair  as  the  morn,  and  beautiful  as  May, 
The  glory  of  the  year,  when  firft  fhe  comes 
Array'd,  all-beauteous,  with  the  robes  of  heav'n, 
And  breathing  fummer  breezes,  from  her  locks 
Shakes  genial  dews,  and  from  her  lap  the  flow'rs. 
Thus  beautiful  (he  look'd  ;  yet  fometh;ng  more, 
And  better  far  than  beauty,  in  her  looks 
Appear'd  ;  the  maiden  blufli  of  modefty ; 
The  fmile  of  cheerfulnefs,  and  fweet  content ; 
Health's  frefhefl  rofe,  the  fuufhine  of  the  foul ; 
Each  height'ning  each,  cffus'd  o'er  all  her  form 
A  namelefs  grace,  the  beauty  of  the  mind. 

Thus  finifn'd  fair  above  h*r  peers,  fhe  drew 
The  eyes  of  all  the  village,  and  inflam'd 
The  rival  fhepherds  of  the  neighb'ring  dale 
"Who  laid  the  fpoils  of  fummer  at  her  feet, 
And  made  the  woods  enamour'd  of  her  name. 
But  pure  ?.s  buds  before  they  blow,  and  ftill 
A  virgin  in  her  heart,  fhe  knew  not  love  ; 
But  all  alone,  amid  her  gaHen  fair, 
Prom  morn  to  noon,  from  noon  to  dewy  evei 
She  fpent  her  days ;  her  pleafing  talk  to  tend 
The  flowers;  to  lave  them  from  the  water-fpringj- 
To  ope  the  buds  with  her  enamour'd  breath, 
P.ank  the  gay  tribes,  and  rear  them  in  the  fun. 
Jn  youth  the  index  of  maturer  years, 
Left  by  her  fchool-companions  at  their  play, 
.She'd  often  wander  in  the  wood,  or  roam 
The  wildernefs,  in  queft  of  curious  flow'r, 
Or  neft  of  bird  unknown,  till  eve  approach'd, 
And  hcmm'dlier  in  the1  fhade.    To  obvious  foam, 
Or  woodman  chanting  in  the  greenwood  glin, 
She'd  bring  the  beauteous  fpoils,   and  alk  their 

names. 

Thus  ply'd  affiduous  her  delightlul  tafk, 
5    ' 


Day  after  day,  till  ev'ry  herb  flic  flam'd 

That  paints  the  robe  of  Spring,  and  knew  the  voice 

Of  every  warbler  in  the  vernal  wood. 

Her  garden  ftretch'd  along  the  river  fide, 
High  up  a  funny  bank:  on  either  fide, 
A  hedge  forbade  the  vagrant  foot;  above. 
An  ancient  foreft  fcreen'd  the  green  recefs. 
Tranfplanted  here  by  her  creative  hand, 
Each  herb  of  nature,  full  of  fragrant  fweets, 
That  fcents  the  breath  of  Summer ;  every  flow'r, 
Pride  of  the  plain,  that  blooms  on  feftal  days 
In  fhepherds  garland,  and  adorns  the  year, 
In  beauteous  clufters  flourifh'd  ;  nature's  work, 
And  order,  finifh'd  by  the  hand  of  art. 
Here  gbwans,  natives  of  the  village  green, 
To  daifies  grew.     The  lilies  of  the  field 
Put  on  the  robe  they  neither  fow'd  nor  fpun. 
Sweet-fmelling  fhrubs  and  cheerful  fpreading  trees^ 
Unfrequent  fcatter'd,  as  by  nature's  hand, 
Shaded  the  flow'rs,  and  to  her  Eden  drew 
The  earlieft.  concerts  of  the  Spring,  and  all 
The  various  mufic  of  the  vocal  year  : 
Retreat  romantic  I  Thus  from  early  youth 
Her  life  fhe  led ;  one  fummcr's  day,  ferene 
And  fair  without  a  cloud  ;  like  poet's  dream 
Of  vernal  landfcapes,  of  Elyfian  vales, 
And  iflands  of  the  bleft ;  where,  hand  in  hand, 
Eternal  Spring  and  Autumn  rule  the  year, 
And  love  and  joy  lead  on  immortal  youth. 

'  f  was  on  a  Summer's  day,  when  early  fhow'rs 
Had  wak'd  the  various  vegetable  race 
To  life  and  beauty,  fair  Levina  flray'd 
Far  in  the  blooming  wildernefs  fhe  flray'd, 
To  gather  herbs,  and  the  fair  race  of  flow'rs, 
That  nature's  hand  creative  poun>  at  will, 
Beauty  unbounded  !  over  earth's  green  lap, 
Gay  without  number,  in  the  day  of  rain. 
O'er  valleys  gay,  o'er  hillocks  green  fhe  walk'rf. 
Sweet  as  the  feafon,  and  at  times  awak'd 
The  echoes  of  the  vale,  with  native  notes 
Of  heart-felt  joy,  in  numbers  heav'nly  fweet; 
Sweet  as  th'  hofannahs  of  a  form  of  light, 
A  fweet-tongu'd  feraph  in  the  bow'rs  of  blifs. 

Her,  as  fhe  halted  on  a  green  hill  top, 
A  quiver'd  hunter  fpied.     Her  flowing  locks, 
In  golden  ringlets,  glitt'ring  to  the  fun, 
Upon  her  bofom  play'd  :  her  mantle  green, 
Like  thine,  O  nature  !  to  her  rofy  cheek 
Lent  beauty  new;  as  from  the  verdant  leaf 
The  rofe-bud  blufhes  with  a  deeper  bloom, 
Amid  the  walks  of  May.     The  ftranger's  eye 
Was  caught  as  with  ethereal  prefence.     Oft 
He  look'd  to  heav'n,  and  oft  he  met  her  eye 
In  all  the  filent  eloquence  of  love  ; 
Then,  wak'd  from  wonder,  with  a  fmile  began. 
"  Fair  wanderer  of  the  wood !  what  heav'nly  pow'r 
Or  providence,  conduces  thy  vvand'ring  ftepb 
To  this  wild  foreft,  from  thy  native  feat 
And  parents,  happy  in  a  child  fo  fair  i 
A  fhcpherdefs,  or  virgin  of  the  vale, 
Thy  drefs  befpeaks;  but  in  majeftic  mien, 
And  eye,  bright  as  the  morning  flar,  confefs 
Superior  birth  and  beauty,  born  to  rule  : 
As  from  the  ftormy  cloud  of  night,  that  veil» 
Her  virgin-orb,  appears  the  queen  of  heav.'n, 
And  with  full  beauty  gilds  the  face  of  night. 
Whom  fhall  I  call  the  fairefl  of  her  fex 
And  charmer  of  my  foul  ?  In  yonder  vale^ 


P    O    E    MS. 


Come,  let  us  crop  the  rofes  of  the  brook, 
Afld  windings  of  the  wood  :  foft  under  (hade, 
Let  us  recline  by  mofiy  fountain  fide, 
While  the  wood  fuffers  in  the  beam  of  noon. 
I'll  bring  my  love  the  choice  of  all  the  fliades; 
Firft  fruits;  the  apple  ruddy  from  the  rock; 
And  cluft'ring  nuts  thatburnifli  in  the  beam. 

0  wilt  thou  blefs  my  dwelling,  and  become 
The  owner  of  thefe  fields  ?  I'll  give  thee  all 
That  I  pofiefs,  and  all  thou  feeft  is  mine." 

Thus  fpoke  the  youth,  with  rapture  in  his  eye, 
And  thus  the  maiden  with  a  blufh  began : 
"  Beyond  the  fhadow  of  thefe  mountains  green, 
Deep-bofom'd  in  the  vale,  a  cottage  ftands, 
The  dwelling  of  my  fire,  a  peaceful  fwain  ; 
Yet  at  his  frugal  board  health  fits  a  gueft, 
And  fair  contentment  crowns  his  hoary  hairs, 
The  patriarch  of  the  plains :  ne'er  by  his  door 
The  needy  pafs'd  or  the  way-faring  man. 
His  only  daughter,  and  his  only  joy, 

1  feed  my  father's  flock  ;  and,  while  they  reft, 
At  times  retiring,  lofe  me  in  the  wood, 
Skill'd  in  the  virtues  of  each  fecret  herb 
That  opes  its  virgin  bofom  to  the  moon. 

No  flow'r  amid  the  garden  fairer  grows 
Than  the  fweet  lily  of  the  lowly  vale, 
The  queen  of  flowers. — But  fooner  might  the  weed 
That  blooms  and  dies,  the  being  of  a  day, 
Prefume  to  match  with  yonder  mountain  oak, 
That  ftands  the  tempeft  and  the  bolt  of  heav'n, 
From  age  to  age  the  monarch  of  the  wood— 

0  !  had  you  been  a  fliepherd  of  the  dale, 
To  feed  your  flock  befide  me,  and  to  reft 
With  me  at  noon  in  thefe  delightful  fliades, 

1  might  have  liften'd  to  the  voice  of  love, 
Nothing  reluclant ;  might  with  you  have  walk'd 
Whole  fummer  furiS  away.     At  even-tide, 
When  heaven  and  earth  in  all  their  glory  fliine 
With  the  laft  fmilesof  the  departing  fun  ; 
When  the  fweet  breath  of  Summer  feaft  the  fenfe, 
And  fecret  pleafure  thrills  the  heart  of  man  ; 
\Ve  might  have  walk'd  alone,  in  converfe  fweet, 
Along  the  quiet  vale,  and  woo'd  the  moon 

To  hear  the  mufic  of  true  lover's  vows. 
But  fate  forbids,  and  fortune's  potent  frown, 
And  4honour,  inmate  of  the  nobleft  breaft, 
Ne'er  can  this  hand  in  wedlock  join  with  thine. 
Ceafe,  beauteous  ftranger  !  ceafe,  beloved  youth  ! 
To  vex  a  h£art  that  never  can  be  your's." 

Thus  fpoke  the  maid,  deceitful :  but  her  eyes, 
Beyond  the  partial  purpofe  of  her  tongue, 
Perfuafion  gain'd.     The  deep  enamour'd  youth 
Stood  gazing  on  her  charms,  and  all  his  foul 
Was  loft  in  love.     He  grafp'd  her  trembling  hand, 
And  breath'd  the  fofteft,  the  fincereft  vows 
Of  love ;   "  O  virgin  !  faireft  of  the  fair  ! 
My  one  beloved  !  Were  the  Scottilh  throne 
To  me  tranfmitted  through  a  fcepter'd  line 
Of  ance'ftors,  thou,  thou  (hould'ft  be  my  queen, 
And  Caledonia's  diadems  adorn 
A  fairer  head  than  ever  wore  a  crown." 

She  redden'd  like  the  morning,  under  veil 
Of  her  own  golden  hair.     The  woods  among, 
They  wander'd  up  and  down  with  fond  delay, 
Nor  mark'd  the  fall  of  ev'nmg;  parted  then. 
The  happieft  pair  on  whom  the  fun  declin'd. 

Next  day  he  found  her  on  a  flow'ry  bank, 
Half  under  Ihade  of  willows,  by  a  fpring, 


The  mirror  of  the  fwains,  that  o'er  the  meads, 
Slow-winding,  fcatter'd  flow'rets  in  its  way. 
Through  many  a  winding  walk  and  alley  green, 
She  led  him  to  her  garden.     Wonder-ftruck, 
He  gaz'd,  all  eye,  o'er  th'  enchanting  fcene : 
And  much  he  prais'd  the  walks,  the  groves,  tifc 

flow'rs, 

Her  beautiful  creation ;  much  he  prais'd 
The  beautiful  creatrefs ;  and  awak'd 
The  echo  in  her  praife.     Like  the  firft  pair, 
Adam  and  Eve,  in  Eden's  blifsful  bow'rs, 
When  newly  come  from  their  Creator's  hand, 
Our  lovers  liv'd  in  joy.     Here,  day  by  day, 
In  fond  endearments,  in  embraces  fweet, 
That  lovers  only  know,  they  liv'd,  they  lov'd, 
And  found  the  Paradife  that  Adam  loft. 
Nor  did  the  virgin,  with  falfe  modeft  pride, 
Retard  the  nuptial  morn :  (he  fix'd  the  day 
That  blefs'd  the  youth,  and  open'd  to  his  eyes 
An  age  of  gold,  the  heav'n  of  .happinefs 
That  lovers  in  their  lucid  moments  dream. 

And  now  the  morning,  like  a  rofy  bride, 
Adorned  on  her  day,  put  on  her  robes, 
Her  beauteous  robes  of  light :  the  naiad  ftreams. 
Sweet  as  the  cadence  of  a  poet's  long, 
Flow'd  down  the  dale :  the  voices  of  the  grove, 
And  ev'ry  winged  warbler  of  the  air, 
Sung  over  head,  and  there  was  joy  in  heaven. 
Ris'n  with  the  dawn,  the  bride,  and  bridal-maids, 
Stray'd  through  the  woods,  and- o'er  the  vales,  in. 

queft 

Of  flow'rs,  and  garlands,  and  fweet-fmelling  herbs, 
To  ftrew  the  bridegroom's  way,  and  deck  his  bed. 

Fair  in  the  bofom  of  the  level  lake 
Role  a  green  ifland,  cover'd  with  a  fpring 
Of  flow'rs  perpetual,  goodly  to  the  eye, 
And  blooming  from  afar.     High  in  the  midft, 
Between  two  fountains,  an  enchanted  tree 
Grew  ever  green,  and  every  month  renew'd 
Its  blooms  and  apples  of  Hefperian  gold, 
Here  ev'ry  bride,  as  ancient  poets  fing. 
Two  golden  apples  gather'd  from  the  boughj 
To  give  the  bridegroom  in  the  bed  of  love, 
The  pledge  of  nuptial  concord  and  delight 
For  many  a  coming  year.     Levina  now 
Had  reach'd  the  ifle  with  an  attendant  maid, 
And  pull'd  the  myftic  apples,  pull'd  the  fruit; 
But  wifli'd  and  long'd  for  the  enchanted  tree. 
Not  fonder  fought  the  firft  created  fair 
The  fruit  forbidden  of  the  mortal  tree, 
Tiie  fource  of  human  wo.    Two  plants  arofe 
Fair  by  the  mother's  fide,  with  fruits  and  flow'rs 
In  miniature.     One,  with  audacious  hand, 
In  evil  hour  me  rooted  from  the  ground. 
At  once  the  ifland  fliook,  and  (hrieks  of  wo 
At  times  were  heard,  amid  the  troubled  air.1 
Her  whole  frame  (hook,  the  blood  forfook  her  face, 
Her  knees  kuock'd,  and  her  heart  within  her  dy'd. 
Trembling,  and  pale,  and  boding  woes  to  come, 
They  feiz'd  the  boat,  and  hurried  from  the  ifle. 

And  now  they  gain'd  the  middle  of  the  lake, 
And  taw  th'  approaching  land  :  now,  wild  with 

joy, 

They  row'd,  they  flew.  When  lo  !  atonceeffus'd, 
Sent  by  the  angry  demon  of  the  ille, 
A  whirlwind  rofe  :  it  lalh'd  the  furious  lake 
To  tempeft,  overturn'd  the  boat,  and  funk 
The  fair  Leviaa  to  a  vatery  tomb.     • 


cS<» 


THE  WORKS   OF  BRUCE. 


Her  fail  companions,  bending  from  a  reck, 
Thrice  faw  her  head,  and  fupplicating  hands 
Held  up  to  heav'n,  and  heard  the  fhriek  of  death : 
Then  over  head  the  parting  billow  clos'd, 
And  op'd  no  more.     Her  fate  in  mournful  lays, 
The  mufe  relates ;  and  fare  each  tender  maid 
For  her  (hall  heave  the  fympathetic  figh, 
And  hap'Iy  my  Eumelia  (for  her  foul 
Is  pity's  fclf),  as,  void  of  houfehold  cares, 
Her  ev'ning  walk  (lie  bends  befide  the  lake, 
Which  yet  retains  her  name,  (hall  fadly  drop 
A  tear,  in  mern'ry  of  the  haplefs  maid, 
And  mount  with  me  the  forrovvs  of  the  youth, 
"Whom  from  his  miftrefs  death  did  not  divide. 
Robb'd  of  the  calm  pofleffion  of  his  mind, 
All  night  he  wander'd  by  the  founding  more, 
Long  looking  o'er  the  lake,  and  faw  at  times 
The  dear,  the  dreary  ghoft  of  her  he  lov'd ; 
Till  love  and  grief  fubdu'd  his  manly  prime, 
And  brought  his  youth  with  forrow  to  the  grave. 

I  knew  an  aged  fwain,  whofe  hoary  head 
Was  bent  with  years,  the  village  chronicle, 
Who  much  had  feen,  and  from  the  former  times 
Muclvhad  receiv'd.     He,  hanging  o'er  the  hearth 
In  winter  ev'nings,  to  the  gaping  fwains, 
And  children  circling  round  the  fire,  would  tell 
Stories  of  old,  and  tales  of  other  times. 
Of  Lomond  and  Levina  he  would  talk  ; 
And  how  of  old,  in  Britain's  evil  days, 
When  brothers  againft  brothers  drew  the  fivord 
Of  civil  rage,  the  hoftile  hand  of  war 
Ravag'd  the  land,  gave  cities  to  the  fword, 
And  all  the  country  to  devouring  fire. 
Then  thefe  fair  forefts  and  Elyfian  fcenes, 
In  one  great  conflagration,  flam'd  to  heav'n. 
Sarren  and  black,  by  fwift  degrees  arofe 
A  muirifh  fen  ;  and  hence  the  lab'ring  hind, 
Digging  for  fuel,  meets  the;mould'ring  trunks 
Of  oaks,  and  branchy  antlers  of  the  deer. 

Now  fober  induftry,  illuftrious  power ! 
Hath  rais'd  the  peaceful  cottage,  calm  abode 
Of  innocence  and  joy;  now,  fweating,  glides 
The  mining  ploughfliare  ;  tames  the  ftubborn  foil; 
Leads  the  long  drain  along  th'  unfertile  marfli ; 
Bids  the  bleak  hill  with  vernal  verdure  bloom, 
The  haunt  of  flocks ;  and  clothes  the  barren  heath 
With  waving  harvefts,  and  the  golden  grain. 

Fair  from  his  hand,  behold  the  village  rife, 
In  rural  pride,  'mong  intermingled  trees  ! 
Above  whofe  aged  tops,  the  joyful  fwains 
At  even-tide,  defcending  from  the  hill, 
With  eye  enamour'd,  mark  the  many  wreaths 
Of  pillar'd  fmoke,  high  curling  to  the  clouds. 
The  ftreet  refounds  with  labour's  various  voice, 
Who  whiftles  at  his  work.     Gay  on  the  green, 
Young  blooming  boys,  arid  girls  with  golden  hair, 
Trip  nimble-footed,  wanton  in  their  play, 
The  village  hope.     All  in  a  rev'rend  row, 
Their  gray-hair'd  grandfires,  fitting  in  the  fun, 
Before  the  gate,  and  leaning  on  the  ftaff, 
The  well-remember'd  ftories  of  theirxyouth 
Recount,  and  fliake  their  aged  locks  with  joy. 

How  fair  a  profpect  rifes  to  the  eye, 
Where  beauty  vies  in  all  her  vernal  forms> 
Tor  ever  pleafant,  and  for  ever  new  ! 
Swells  th'  exulting  thought,  expands  the  foul, 
Drowning  each  ruder  care  :  a  blooming  train 
Of  bright  ideas  rulhes  on  tLe,  mind. 


Imagination  roufes  at  the  fcene> 
And  backward,  through  the  gloom  of  ages  paft, 
Beholds  Arcadia,  like  a  rural  queen, 
Encircled  with  her  fwains  and  rofy  nymphs, 
The  mazy  dance  conducting  on  the  green. 
Nor  yield  to  old  Arcadia's  blifsful  vales 
Thine,  gentle  Leven  !  green  orl  either  hand 
Thy  meadows  fpread,  unbroken  of  the  plough, 
With  beauty  all  their  own.     Thy  fields  rejoice 
With  all  the  riches  of  the  golden  year. 
Fat  on  the  plain,  and  mountain's  funny  fide. 
Large  droves  of  oxen,  and  the  fleecy  flocks 
Feed  undifturb'd,  and  fill  the  echoing  air 
With  mufic,  grateful  to  the  matter's  ear. 
The  traveller  (lops,  and  gazes  round  and  round 
O'er  all  the  fcenes,  that  animate  his  heart 
With  mirth  and  mufic.     Even  the  mendicant, 
Bowbent  with  age,  that  on  the  old  gray  (lone, 
Sole  fitting,  funs  him  in  the  public  way, 
Feels  his  heart  leap,  and  to  himfelf  he  fings. 

How  beautiful  around  the  lake  outfpreads 
Its  wealth  of  waters,  the  furrounding  vales 
Renews,  and  holds  a  mirror  to  the  (ky, 
Perpetual  fed  by  many  fifter-ftreams, 
Haunts  of  the  angler '.  Firft,  the  gulfy  Po, 
That  through  the  quacking  marfh  and  waving  reeds 
Creeps  flow  and  filent  on.    The  rapid  Queech, 
Whofe  foaming  torrents  o'er  the  broken  fteep 
Burft  down  impetuovp,  with  the  placid  wave 
Of  flow'ry  Leven,  for  the  canine  pike 
And  filver  eel  renown'd.     But  chief  thy  ftream, 
O  Gairny  !  fweetly  winding,  claims  the  fong. 
Fivft  on  thy  banks  the  Doric  reed  I  tun'd, 
Stretch'd  on  the  verdaut  grafs;  while  twilight 

meek, 

Enrob'd  in  mift,  flow-failing  through  the  air, 
Silent  and  ftill,  on  ev'ry  clofed  flow'r 
Shed  drops  nedlareous ;  and  around  the  fields 
No  noife  was  heard,  fave  where  the  whifp'ring 

reeds 

Wav'd  to  the  breeze,  or  in  the  drtflcy  air 
The  flow-wing'd  crane  mov'd  heav'ly  o'er  the  lee, 
And  flirilly  clamour'd  as  he  fought  his  neft. 
There  would  I  fit,  and  tune  fome  youthful  lay, 
Or  watch  the  motion  of  the  living  fires, 
That  day  and  night  their  never-ceafing  courfe 
Wheel  round  th'  eternal  poles,  and  bend  the  knee 
To  him  the  Maker  of  yon  ftarry  (ky, 
Omnipotent  '.  who,  thron'd  above  all  heav'ns, 
Yet  ever  prefent  through  the  peopl'd  fpace 
Of  vaft  creation's  infinite  extent, 
Pours  life,  and  blifs,  and  beauty,  pours  himfelf, 
His  own  eflential  goodnefs,  o'er  the  minds 
Of  happy  beings,  through  ten  thoufand  worlds. 

Nor  (hall  the  mufe  forget  thy  friendly  heart, 
O  Lelius  !  partner  of  my  youthful  hours ; 
How  ofteni  rifing  from  the  bed  of  peace, 
We  would  walk  forth  to  meet  the  fummer  morn, 
Inhaling  health  and  harmony  of  mind  ; 
Philofophers  and  friends;  while  fcience  beanfd, 
With  ray  divine  as  lovely  on  our  minds 
As  yonder  orient  fun,  whofe  welcome  light 
Reveal'd  the  vernal  landfcape  to  the  view. 
Yet  oft,  unbending  from  more  ferious  thought, 
Much  of  the  loofer  follies  of  mankind,       [laugh  ; 
Hum'rous  and  gay,-  we'd  talk,  and  much  would 
While,  ever  and  anon,  their  foibles  vain 
Imagination  offer'd  to  our  view. 


POEMS. 


Fronting  where  Gairny  pours  his  filcnt  urn 
Into  the  lake,  an  ifland  lifts  its  head, 
Grafly  arid  wild,  with  ancient  ruin-  heap'd 
Of  cells ;  where  from  the  noify  world  retir'd 
Of  old,  as  fame  report*,  religion  dwelt 
Safe  from  the  infults  of  the  darken'd  crowd 
That  bow'd  the  knee  to  Odin ;  and  in  times 
Of  ignorance,  when  Caledonia's  fons 
(Before  the  triple-crowned  giant  fell) 
Exchang'd  their  fimple  faith  for  Rome's  deceits. 
Here  fuperftition  for  her  cloifter'd  ibns 
A  dwelling  rear'd,  with  many  an  arched  vault ; 
Where  her  pale  vot'ries  at  the  midnight-hour, 
In  many  a  mournful  ftrain  of  melancholy, 
Chanted  their  orifons  to  the  cold  moon. 
It  now  refounds  with  the  \vild-fhrieking  gull, 
The  crefted  lapwing,  and  the  clamorous  mew, 
The  patient  heron,  and  the  bittern  dull, 
Deep-founding  in  the  bafe,  with  all  the  tribe 
That  by  the  water  feck  th'  appointed-meal. 

From  hence  the  fhepherd  in  the  fenced  fold, 
'Tis  faid,  has  heard  ftrange  founds,  and  mufic 

wild; 

Such  as  in  Selma,  by  the  burning  oak 
Of  hero  fallen,  or  of  battle  loft, 
Warn'd  Fingal'smighty  fon,  from  trembling  chords 
Of  untouch'd  harp,  felf-founding  in  the  night. 
Perhaps  th'  afflicted  genius  of  the  lake, 
That  leaves  the  wat'ry  grot,  each  night  to  mourn 
The  wafte  of  time,  his  defolated  ifles 
And  temples  in  the  duft  :  his  plaintive  voice 
Is  heard  refounding  through  the  dreary  courts 
Of  high  Lochleven  caftle,  famous  once, 
Th'  abode  of  heroes  of  the  Bruce's  line  ; 
Gothic  the  pile,  aud  high  the  folid  walls, 
\Vich  warlike  ramparts,  and  the  ftrong  defence 
Of  jutting  battlements,  an  age's  toil  ! 
No  more  its  arches  echo  to  the  noife 
Of  joy  and  feftive  mirth.  No  more  the  glance 
Of  blazing  taper  through  its  windows  beams, 
And  quivers  on  the  undulating  wave  : 
But  naked  {land  the  melancholy  walls, 
Lafh'd  by  th'  wint'ry  tempefls,  cold  and  bleak, 
That  whiftle  mournful  through  the  empty  halls, 
And  piecemeal  crumble  down  the  tow'rs  to  duft. 
Perhaps  in  fome  lone,  dreary,  defert  tower, 
That  time  has  fpar'd,  forth  from  the  window  looks, 
Half  hid  in  grafs,  the  folitary  fox ; 
While  from  above  the  owl,  mufician  dire  ! 
Screams  hideous,  harm,  and  gratimj  to  the  ear. 

Equal  in  age,  and  fharers  of  its  fate, 
A  row  of  mofs-grown  trees  around  it  ftand. 
Scarce  here  and  there,  upon  their  blafted  tops, 
A  fhrivell'd  leaf  diftinguifhes  the  year; 
Emblem  of  hoary  age,  the  eve  of  life; 
When  man  draws  nigh  his  cverlafting  home, 
Within  a  ftep  of  the  devouring  grave ; 
When  all  his  views  and  tow'ring  hopes  are  gone, 
And  ev'ry  appetite  before  him  dead. 

Bright  ftiinesthe  morn,  while  in  the  ruddy  eaft 
The  fun  hangs  hov'ring  o'er  th'  Atlantic  wave. 
Apart  on  yonder  green  hill's  funny  fide, 
Seren'd  with  all  the  mufic  of  the  morn, 
Attentive  let  me  fit ;  while  from  the  rock, 
The  fwains,  laborious,  roll  the  limcftonc  huge, 
Bounding  elaftic  fr»m  th'  indented  grafs, 
At  every  fall  it  fprings,  and  thund'ring  fhoots. 
O'er  rocks  and  precipices,  to  the  plain. 


And  let  the  fhepherd  careful  tend  his  flock 
?ar  from  the  dang'rous  ftecp  ;  nor,  O  ye  fwains! 
Stray  heedlefs  of  its  rage.  Behold  the  tears 
Yon  wretched  widow  o'er  the  mangled  corpfe 
3f  her  dead  hufband  pours,  who,  haplefs  man  ! 
Cheerful  and  ftrong  went  forth  at  rifing  morn 
To  ufual  toil ;  but,  ere  the  evening  hour, 
rfis  fad  companions  bare  him  lifelefs  home. 
Urg'd  from  the  hill's  high  top,  with  progrcfs  fwift, 
A  weighty  ftone,  refiftlcfs,  rapid  came, 
Seen  by  the  fated  wretch,  who  flood  unmov'd, 
Nor  turn'd  to  fly,  till  flight  had  been  in  vain; 
When  now  arriv'd  the  inftrument  of  death, 
And  fell'd  him  to  the  ground.  The  thirfty  land 
Drank  up  his  blood:  fuch  was  the  will  of  Heav'n. 

How  wide  the  landfcape  opens  to  the  view ! 
Still  as  I  mount,  the  lefs'ning  hills  decline, 
Till  high  above  them  northern  Grampius  lifts 
His  hoary  head,  bending  beneath  a  load 
Of  everlafting  fnow.  O'er  fouthern  field* 
I  fee  the  Cheviot  hills,  the  ancient  bounds 
Of  two  contending  kingdoms.  There  in  fight 
Brave  Piercy  and  the  gallant  Douglas  bled, 
The  houfe  of  heroes,  and  the  death  of  hofts ! 
Wat'ring  the  fertile  fields,  majeftic  Forth, 
Full,  deep,  and  wide,  rolls  placid  to  the  fea, 
With  many  a  veflel  trim,  and  oared  bark, 
In  rich  profulion  cover'd,  wafting  o'er 
The  wealth  and  product  of  far  diftant  lands. 

But  chief  mine  eye  on  the  fubjccted  vale 
Of  Leven-plcas'd  looks  down ;  while  o'er  the  trees, 
That  fhield  the  hamlet  with  the  fhade  of  years, 
The  tow'ring  fmoke  of  early  fire  afcends, 
And  the  fhrill  cock  proclaims  th'  advanced  motn. 
How  bleft  the  man!  who,  in  thefe  peaceful 

plains, 

Ploughs  his  paternal  field ;  far  from  the  noife, 
The  care,  and  buftle  of  a  bufy  world. 
All  in  the  facred,  fwcet,  fequefter'd  vale 
Of  Iblitude,  the  fecret  primrofe-path 
Of  rural  life,  he  dwells ;  and  with  him  dwells 
Peace  ;ind  content,  twins  of  the  Sylvan  fhade, 
And  all  the  graces  of  the  golden  age. 
Such  is  Agricola,  the  wife,  the  good, 
By  nature  formed  for  the  calm  retreat, 
The  filent  path  of  life.  Learn'd,  but  not  fraught 
With  felt-importance,  as  the  flarched  fool; 
Who  challenges  refpect  by  folemn  face, 
By  ftudied  accent,  and  high-founding  phrafe. 
Enamour'd  of  the  fhade,  but  not  morofe. 
Politenefs,  rais'd  in  courts  by  frigid  rules, 
With  him  fpontaneous  grows.  Not  books  alone, 
But  man  his  ftudy,  and  the  better  part ; 
To  tread  the  ways  of  virtue,  and  to  act 
The  various  fcenes  of  life  with  God's  applaufe- 
Deep  in  the  bottom  of  the  fiow'ry  vale, 
With  blooming  fallows  and  the  leafy  twine 
Of  verdant  alders  fcnc'd,  his  dwelling  ftands 
Complete  in  rural  elegance.  The  door, 
By  which  the  poor  or  pilgrim  never  pafs'd, 
Still  open,  fpeaks  the  mafter's  bounteous  heart. 
There,  O  how  fweet !  amid  the  fragrant  fhrub^ 
At  ev'ning  cool  to  fit ;  while,  on  their  boughs, 
Th<2  nefte'd  fongfters  twitter  o'er  their  young, 
And  the  hoarfe  low  of  folded  cattle  breaks 
The  filence,  wafted  o'er  the  fleeping  lake, 
Whole  waters  glow  beneath  the  purple  tinge 
Of  weftern  cloud ;  while  convcilc  1'wect  deceives 


THE   WORKS    OF   SRUCE. 


The  dealing  foot  of  time.    Or  where  the  ground 
Mounded  irregular,  points  out  the  graves 
Of  our  forefathers,  and  the  hallow'd  fane, 
Where  fwains  alTembling  vvorfhip,  let  us  walk, 
In  foftly-foothing  melancholy  thought, 
As  night's feraphic  bard,  immortal  Young! 
Or  fweet-complaining  Gray  ;  there  fee  the  goal 
Of  human  life,  where  drooping,  faint,  and  tir'd, 
Oft  mifs'd  the  prize,  the  weary  racer  reft?. 

Thus  fung  trie  youth,  amid  unfertile  wilds 
And  namelefs  defer  ts,  uupoetic  ground ! 
Far  from  his  friends  he  ftray'd,  recording  thus 
The  dear  remembrance  of  his  native  fields, 
To  cheer  the  tedious  night ;  while  flow  difeafe 
Prey'd  on  his  pining  vitals,  and  the  blafts 
Of  dark  December  fhook  his  humble  cot. 

DAPHNIS : 

A  MONODY. 
To  tie  Memory  of  Mr.  William  Arnot  *, 

No  more  of  youthful  joys,  or  love's  fond  dreams, 
No  more  of  morning  fair,  or  ev'ning  mild, 
While  Daphnis  lies  among  the  filent  dead 
Unfung ;  though  long  ago  he  trod  the  path, 

The  dreary  road  of  death 

Which  foon  or  late  each  human  foot  muft  tread  : 
He  trod  the  dark  uncomfortable  wild,         [beams, 
By  faith's  pure  light,  by  hope's  heav'n-op'ning 
JBy  love,  whofe  image  gladdens  mortal  eyes, 
And  keeps  the  golden  key  that  opens  all  the  fldes. 

AfTifl,  ye  mufes  ! — and  ye  will  aflift  ; 
For  Daphnis,  whom  1  fmg,  to  you  was  dear : 
Ye  lov'd  the  boy,  and  on  his  youthful  head 
Your  kindcft  influence  fhed. — 
So  may  I  match  his  lays,  who  to  the  lyre 
Wail'd  his  loft  Lycidas  by  wood  and  rill : 
So  may  the  mufe  my  grov'ling  mind  infpire 
To  fing  a  farewell  to  thy  afhcs  blell ; 
To  bid  fair  peace  to  be  thy  gentle  fhade  ; 
To  fcatter  flow'rets,  cropt  by  fancy's  hand, 
In  fad  aflemblage  round  thy  tomb, 
If  watcr'd  by  the  mufe,  to  lateft  time  to  bloom. 

Oft  by  the  fide  of  Leven's  cryflal  lake, 
Trembling  beneath  the  clofing  lids  of  light, 
With  flow  fhort-meafur'd  fteps  we  took  our  walk : 
Then  he  would  talk 
Of  argument  .far,  far  above  his  years ; 
Then  he  would  reafon  high, 
Till  from  the  eaft  the  filver  queen  of  night 
Her  journey  up  heav'n's  ftcep  began  to  make, 
And  filence  reign'd  attentive  in  the  flcy. 

O  happy  days !  for  ever,  ever  gone  ! 
When  o'er  the  flow'ry  green  we  ran,  we  play'd 
With  blooms  bedrop'd  by  youthful  fummer's  hand; 
Or,  in  die  willovv-fhade, 
"We  mimic  caftles  built  among  the  fand, 
Soon  by  the  founding  furge  to  be  beat  down, 
Or  fvveeping  winds ;  when,  by  the  fedgy  marfh, 
"We  heard  the  heron,  and  the  wild  duck  harfli, 
And  fweetcr  lark,  tune  his  melodious  lay 
At  higheft  noon  of  duy. 

Among  the  antic  mofs-grown  ftones  we'd  roam, 
With  ancient  hieroglyphic  figures  grac'd, 

*  San  of  Mr.  David  Afnotof  Pirtmoak,  near  Kinrafs. 


Winged  hour-glafles,  bones,  and  flculls,  and  /pade?, 

And  obfolete  infcriptions  by  the  hands 

Of  other  ages  ;   ah,  I  little  thought 

That  we  then  play'd  o'er  his  untimely  tomb  ! 

Where  were  ye,  mufes  !  when  the  leaden  hand 
Of  death,  remorfelefs,  clos'd  your  Daphnis'  eyes? 
For  fure  ye  heard  the  weeping  mother's  cries ; 
But  the  dread  povr'r  of  fate  what  can  withitand  ? 
Young  Daphnis  fmil'd  at  death;  the  tyrant's  darts 
As  ftubble  counted.  What  was  his  fupport  ? 
His  conference,  and  firm  trufl  in  him  whofe  ways 
Are  truth ;  in  him  who  fways 
His  potent  fceptre  o'er  the  dark  domains 
©f  death  and  hell ;  who  holds  his  flrait'ned  reins 
Their  banded  legions :  "  Through  the  darkfomc 
>  "  vale  [ray; 

"  He'll  guide  my  trembling  fteps  with  heav'nly 
"  I  fee  the  dawning  of  immortal  day," 
He  fmiling  faid,  and  died  ! — 

Hail  and  farewell,  bleft  youth !  foon  haft  thoii 

left 

This  evil  world  !  Fair  was  thy  thread  of  life, 
But  quickly  by  the  envious  fitters  fhorn  : 
Thus  have  I  feen  a  rofe  with  riling  morn 
Unfold  its  glowing  bloom,  fweet  to  the  fmell, 
And  lovely  to  the  eye  ;  when  a  keen  wind 
Hath  tore  its  blufliing  leaves,  and  laid  it  low, 
Stripp'd  of  its  fweets. — Ah,  fo, 
So  Daphnis  fell !  long  ere  his  prime  he  fell ! 
Nor  left  he  on  thefe  plains  his  peer  behind  ; 
Thefe  plains,  that  mourn  their  lofs,  of  him  bereft, 
No  more  look  gay,  but  defert  and  forlorn. 

Now  ceafe  your  lamentations,  fhepherds,  ceafe  ! 
Though  Daphnis  died  below,  he  lives  above  ; 
A  better  life,  and  in  a  fairer  clime, 
rie  lives ;  no  forrow  enters  that  bleft  place, 
3ut  ceafelefs  fongs  of  love  and  joy  refound  ; 
And  fragrance  floats  around, 
->y  fanning  zephyrs  from  the  fpicy  groves, 
And  flow'rs  immortal  wafted ;  afphodel 
And  amaranth,  unfading,  deck  the  ground, 
With  fairer  colours  than,  ere  Adam  fell, 
n  Eden  bloom'd :  there  happ'ly  he  may  hear 
This  artlefs  fong.  Ye  pow'rs  of  verfe,  improve, 
And  make  it  worthy  of  yonr  darling's  ear, 
\nd  make  it  equal  to  the  fliepherd's  love ! 

Thus,  in  the  fhadow  of  a  frowning  rock, 
Beneath  a  mountain's  fide,  ftiaggy  and  hoar, 
\.  homely  fwain,  tending  his  little  flock, 
*.ude,  yet  a  lover  of  the  mufe's  lore, 
Chanted  his  Doric  ftraiii  till  clofe  of  day, 
L'hen  rofe,  and  homeward  flowly  bent  his  way. 

ALEXIS : 

A    PASTORAL. 

JPON  a  bank  with  cowflips  cover'd  o'er, 
Where  Leven's  waters  break  againft  the  fhore  ;' 
What  time  the  village  fires  in  circles  talk, 

\nd  youths  and  maidens  take  their  evening  walk ; 
Among  the  yellow  broom  Alexis  lay, 
And  view'd  the  beauties  of  the  fetting  day. 

Full  well  you  might  obferve  fome  inward  fmart, 
Some  lecret  grief  hung  heavy  at  his  heart. 
While  round  the  field  his  fporting  lambkins  play'd, 

le  rais'dhlsplaintiv;  voice,-aHd  thus  he  faid: 


P    O    E    M.S. 


Begin,  my  pipe,  a  foitly  mournful  ftrain : 
The  parting  fun  ihines  yellow  on  the  plain ; 
The  balmy  weft-wind  breathes  along  the  ground  : 
Their  evening  fweets  the  flow'rs difpenfe  around; 
•The  flocks  ftray  bleating  o'er  the  mountain's  brow, 
And  from  the  plain  th'  anfw'ring  cattle  low ; 
Sweet  chant  the  feather'd  tribes  on  every  tree, 
And  all  things  feel  the  joys  of  love,  but  me. 

Begin,  my  pipe,  begin  the  mournful  ftrain  ; 
Eumelia  meets  my  kindnefs  with  difdain. 
Oft  have  1  try'd  her  ftubborn  heart  to  move, 
And  in  her  icy  bofom  kindle  love : 
But  all  in  vain— ere. I  my  love  declar'd, 
With  other  youths  her  company  I  fhar'd ; 
But  now  flic  Hums  me,  hoplefs  and  forlorn, 
And  pays  my  conftant  paflion  with  her  fcorn. 
Begin,  my  pipe,  the  fadly-foothing  ftrain. 
And  bring  the  days  of  innocence  again. 
Well  I  remember  in  the  funny  fcene 
We  ran,  we  play'd  together  on  the  green. 
Fair  in  our  youth,  and  wanton  in  our  play, 
We  toy'd,  we  fported  the  long  fummer's  day. 
For  her  I  fpoil'd  the  gardens  of  the  fpring, 
And  taught  the  goldfinch  on  her  hand  to  fing. 
We  fat  and  fung  beneath  the  lover's  tree ; 
One  was  her  look  and  it  was  fix'd  on  -me. 

Begin,  my  pipe  a.  melancholy  ftrain : 
A  holiday  was  kept  on  yonder  plain  ; 
The  feaft  was  fpread  upon  the  flow'ry(mead, 
And  ikillful  Thyrfis  tun'd  his  vocal  reed ; 
Each  for  the  dance  felects  the  nymph  he  loves, 
And  every  nymph  with  fmiles  her  fwain  approves: 
The  fetting  fun  beheld  their  mirthful  glee, 
And  left  all  happy  in  their  love,  but  me. 

Begin,  ray  pipe,  a  foftly  mournful  ftrain: 
O  cruel  nymph !  O  moft  unhappy  fwain  ! 
To  climb  the  fteepy  rock's  tremendous  height, 
And  crop  its  herbage  is  the  goat's  delight ; 
The  flow'ry  thyme  delights  the  humming  bees, 
And  blooming  wilds  the  bleating  lambkins  pleafe  ; 
Daphnis  courts  Chloe  under  every  tree  . 
Eumelia,  you  alone  have  joy*  for  me  ! 

Now  ceafe,  my  pipe,  now  ceafe  the  mournful 

ftrain  : 

Lo,  yonder  comes  Eumelia  o'er  the  plain ! 
Till  (he  approach  I'll  lurk  behind  the  (hade, 
Then  try,  with  all  my  art,  the  ftubborn  maid : 
Though  to  her  lover  cruel  and  unkind, 
Yet  time  may  change  the  pnrpofe  of  hermind. 
But  vain  thefe  plr aung  hopes !  already  fee, 
She  hath  obferv'd,  and  now  flic  flies  from  me ! 
Then  ceafe,  my  pipe,  the  unavailing  ftrain  : 
Apollo  aids,  the  nine  infpire  in  vain : 
You,  crual  maid  !  refufe  to  lend  an  ear ; 
No  more  I  ling,  fince  you  difdain  to  hear. 
This  pipe  Amyntas  gave,  on  which  he  play'd  : 
"  Be  tfeou  its  fecond  lord,"  the  dying  fhephen 

faid. 

No  more  I  play  :  now  filent  let  it  be ; 
Nor  pipe,  nor  fong,  can  e'er  give  joy  to  me. 

THE  EAGLE,  CROW,  AND  SHEPHERD. 

A   FABLE. 

BENEATH  the  horror  ef  a  rock, 
A  fhepherd  carelefs  fed  his  flock. 
Koufe  from  its  top  an.eagle  came, 
And  feiz'd  upon  a  fportme  lurab; 


VCL.  XI. 


ts  tender  fides  his  talons  tear, 

i.nd  bear  it  bleating  through  the  air. 

This  was  difcover'd  by  a  crow, 
.Vho  hopp'd  upon  the  plain  below. 

You  ram,"  fays  he,  "  becomes  my  prey  ;" 
And,  mounting,  haflens  to  the  fray, 
ights  on  his  back  —  when  lo,  ill  luck  ! 
ie  in  the  fleece  entangled  fluck; 
ic  fpreadslus  wings,  but  can't  get  free, 
"truggling,  in  vain,  for  liberty. 

The  ftiepherd  foon  the  cp.puve  fpies, 
And  foon  he  feizes  on  the  prize. 
-lis  children,  curious,  crowd  around, 
And  Erik  what  ftrange  fowl  he  has  found. 

My  fons,"  faid  he,  "  warn'd  by  this  wretch, 
"  Attempt  no  deed  jabove  your  reach  : 
'  An  eagle  not  an  hour  ago, 
'  He's  DOW  content  to  be  a  crow." 

PASTORAL  SONG. 
ro  tbrtwof—  The  tellow-Hair'd  Laddie. 

IN  May,  when  the  gowans  appear  on  the  greeny 
And  flow'rs  in  the  field  and  the  forcft  are  feen  ; 
Where  lillies  bloom'd  bonny,  and  hawthorns  up 

'fprung, 
The  yellow-hair'd  laddie  oft  whiftled  and  fung. 

But  neither  the  fliados,  nor  the  fweets  of  the 
flow'rs,  [bow'rs, 

Nor  the  blackbirds  that  warbled  on  bloffoming 
Could  pleafure  his  eye,  or  his  ear  entertain  ; 
For  love  Was  his  pleafure,  and  love  was  his  pain. 

The  (hepherd  thus  fung,  while  his  flocks  all  around 
Drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  figh'd  to  the  found: 
Around,  as  in  chains,  lay  the  beafts  of  the  wood, 
With  pity  difarmed,  with  mafic  fubdu'd. 

Young  Jefly  is  fair  as  the  fpring's  early  flower, 
And  Mary  fings  fweet  as  the  bird  iu  her  bower: 
But  Peggy  is  fairer  and  fweeter  than  they  ; 
With  looks  like  the  morning,  with  Irm'les  like  the 

day. 
In  the  flower  of  her  youth,  in  the  bloom  of  eigh 

teen,        t 

Of  virtue  the  goddefs,  of  beauty  the  queen  : 
One  hour  in  her  prefence  an  era  excels, 
Amid  courts,  where  ambition  with  mifery  dwells. 

Fair  to  the  fhepherd  the  new-.fpringing  flow'rs, 
When  May  and  when  morning  lead  on  the  gmy 

hours  : 

But  Peggy  is  brighter  and  fairer  than  they  ; 
She's  fair  as  the  morning,  and  levely  as  May. 

Sweet  to  the  (hepherd  the  wild  woodland  found, 
When  larks  fing  above  him,  and  lambs  bleat  a- 

,  round  : 

But  Peggy  far  fweeter  can  fpeak  and  can  fing, 
Than  the  notes  of  the  warblers  that  welcome  the 
fpring. 

When  in  beauty  fhe  moves  by  the  brook  of  the- 

plain,  [main: 

You  would  call  her  a  Venus  new  fprung  from  the 

When  Ihe  fings,  and  the  woods  with  their  echoes 


You  would  think  that  an  angel  ww  warbhcg  *a 
T 


Ye  pow'rs,  that  prefide  over  mortal  eftate ! 
"Whofe  nod  ruleth  nature,  whofe  plcafure  is  fate, 
O  grant  me,  O  grant  me  the  heav  n  of  her  charms! 
May  I  live  in  her  prefence,  and  die  in  her  arms ! 

SIR  JAMES  THE  ROSS- 

AN  HISTORICAL  BALLAD. 

OF  all  the  Scottifli  northern  chiefs, 

Of  high  and  mighty  name, 
The  braved  was  Sir  James  the  Rofs, 

A  knight  of  meikle  fame. 

His  growth  was  like  a  youthful  oak, 
That  crowns  the  mountain's  brow  j 

And,  waving  o'er  his  fhoulders  broad, 
His  locks  of  yellow  flew. 

Wide  were  his  fields,  his  herds  were  farge^ 

And  large  his  flocks  of  fheep, 
And  num'rous  were  his  goats  and  deer 

Upon  the  mountains  fteep. 

The  chieftain  of  the  good  Clan  Rofs, 

A  firm  and  warlike  band  ; 
Five  hundred  warriors  drew  the  fword 

Beneath  his  high  command. 

In  bloody  fight  thrice  had  he  flood 

Againft  the  Englifh  keen, 
Ere  two  and  twenty  op'ning  fpringj 

The  blooming  youth  had  feen. 

The  fair  Matilda  dear  he  lov'd, 

A  maid  of  beauty  rare  : 
Even  Marg'ret  oh  the  Scottifh  throne 

Was  rievef  half  fo  fair. 

Long  had  he  woo'd,  long  fhe  refus'd 

With  fecming  fcorn  and  pride ; 
Yet  oft  her  eyes  confefs'd  the  love 

Her  fearful  words  fleny'd. 

At  length  fhe  blefsM  his  well-try'd  lovcV 

Allow'd  his  tender  claim ; 
She  vow'd  to  him  her  virgin-heart, 

And  own'd  an  equal  name. 

Her  brother,  Buchan's  cruel  lord, 

Their  paflion  difapprov'd ; 
He  bade  her  wed  Sir  John  the  Graeme, 

And  leave  the  youth  fhe  lov'd. 

•ne  night  they  met,  as  they  were  wont,- 

Deep  in  a  fhady-wood  ; 
Where  on  the  bank,  befide  the  burn,- 

A  blooming  faugh*tree  flood. 

ConceaTd  among  the  underwood* 

The  crafty  Donald  lay, 
The  brother  of  Sir  John  the  Grame, 

To  watch  what  they  might  fay. 

When  thus  the  maid  began  :  "  My  fire 

" .  Our  paflion  difapproves  ; 
**  He  bids  me  wed  Sit  John  the  Grame, 

"  So  here  muft  end  our  loves. 

"  My  father's  will  muft  be  obey'd, 

'     "  Nought  boots  me  to  withftand  ; 
**  Some  fairer  maid  in  beauty's  bloom 
<«  Shall  blefs  thee  with  her  ban*. 
3 


THE  WORKS  Of  BRUCE. 


Soon  will  Matilda  be  forgfft, 

"  And  from  thy  mind  effaced  f 
But  may  that  happinefs  be  thine, 

"  Which  I  can  never  taile  !" 

"  What  do  I  hear  ?  is  <his  thy  vow  ?" 

Sir  James  the  Rofs  replied ; 
And  will  Matilda  wed  the  Gneme, 
"  Though  fworn  to  be  my  bride  ? 

"  His  fword  fhall  former  pierce  my  heart, 
"  Than  reave  me  of  thy  charms" 

And  clafp'cf  her  to  his  throbbing  breaft, 
Faft  lock'd  within  her  arms. 

"  I  fpoke  fo  try  thy  love,"  fhe  faid, 
"  I'll  ne'er  wed  man  but  thee : 

"  The  grave  fhall  be  my  bridal  bed, 
"  If  Grsme  my  hufband  be. 

"  Take  then,  dearyooth!  this  faithfu}  kifs, 

"  In  witnefs  of  my  troth ; 
"  And  every  plague  become  my  lot, 

"  That  day  I  break  my  oath." 

They  parted  thus— the  fun  was  fet : 

Up  hafty  Donald  flies ; 
And,  "  Turn  thee,  turn  thee,  beardlefs  youth  ? 

He  loud  iafulting  cries, 

Soon  turn'd  about  the  fearlefs  chief, 

And  foon  his  fword  he  drew  ; 
For  Donald's  blade  before  his  breaft 

Had  pierc'd  his  tartans  through. 

"  This  for  my  brother's  flighted  love  j 
"  His  wrongs  fit  on  my  arm."— 

Three  paces  back  the  youth  refir'd', 
Andfav'd  himfelifrom  harm. 

Returning  fwift,  his  fword  he  rear'd 

Fierce  Domald's  head  above  ; 
And  through  trie  brain,  and  crafhing  bone, 

The  furious  weapon  drove- 
Life  ifTued  at  the  wound  ;  he  felt, 

A  lump  of  lifelefs  clay  ; 
"  So  fall  my  foes,"  quoth  valiant  Re-fj, 

And  ftately  ftrode  away. 

Through  the  gree»-wood  in  hafte  he  pafs'S 

Unto  Lord  Buchan's  hall, 
Beneath  Matilda's  windows  ftood, 

And  thus  on  her  did  call : 

"  Art  thou  afteep,  Matilda  fair  ? 

"  Awake,  my  love,  a'wake ! 
"  Behold  thy  lover  waits  without, 

"  A  long  farewell  to  take. 

"  For  I  have  flain  fierce  Donald  Grxme, 

"  His  blood  is  on  my  fword  ; 
"  And  far,  far  diftant  are  my  men, 

"  Nor  can  defend  their  lord. 

"  To  Sky  I  will  d'ired  my  flight, 

"  Where  my  brave  brothers  bidej 

"  And  raife  the  mighty  of  the  iflcs 
"  To  combat  on  my  fide." 

"  O  db  not  fo,"  the  maid  replied, 

"  With  me  till  morning  ftay ; 
"  For  dark  and  dreary  is  the  night, 

*  And  d*ng'r«us  is  the  way. 


D    E    M    5. 


"  All  night  I'll  watch  thee  in  the  park ; 

"  My  faithful  page  I'll  fend, 
"  In  hatte  to  raife  the  brave  Clan  Rofs, 

"  Their  matter  to  defend." 

He  laid  him  down  beneath  a  bufh,    . 

And  wrapp'd  him  in  his  plaid  ; 
While,  trembling  for  her  lover's  fate, 

At  diftance  Hood  the  maid. 

Swift  ran  the  page,  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

Till,  in  a  lowly  glen, 
He  met  the  furious  Sir  John  Grzme 

With  twenty  of  his  men. 

"  Where  goeft  thou,  little  page  ?"  he  faid, 
"  So  late  who  did  thee  fend  ?" 

"  I  go  to  raife  the  brave  Clan  Rofs, 
"  Their  mafter  to  defend. 

"  For  he  has  flain  fierce  Donald  Grjeme, 

"  His  blood  is  on  his  fword  ; 
"  And  far,  far  tliftant  are  his  men, 

"  Nor  can  affilt  their  lord." 

"  And  has  he  flain  my  brother  dear  ?" 

The  furious  chief  replies: 
"  Diflionour  blaft  my  name,  but  he 

"  By  me  ere  morning  dies. 

"  Say,  page,  where  is  Sir  James  the  Rofi  ? 

"  I  will  thee  well  reward." 
"  He  fleeps  into  Lord  Buchan's  park ; 

*'  Matilda  is  his  guard." 

They  fpurr'd  their  fteeds,  and  furious  flew, 

Like  light'ning  o'er  the  lea : 
They  reach'd  Lord  Buchan's  lofty  tow'rs 

By  dawning  of  the  day. 

Matilda  flood  without  the  gate, 

Upon  a  rifing  ground, 
And  watch'd  each  objecl  in  the  dawn, 

All  ear  to  every  ibund. 

*'  Where  fleeps  the  Rofs  ?"  began  the  Gnerne, 

"  Or  has  the  felon  fled  ? 
"  This  hand  fliall  lay  the  wretch  on  earth, 

*'  By  whom  my  brother  bled." 

And  now  the  valiant  knight  axvoke, 

The  virgin  flirieking  heard  : 
Straight  up  he  rofe,  and  drew  his  fword, 

When  the  fierce  band  appear'd. 

"  Your  fword  laft  night  my  brother  flew, 
"  His  blood  yet  dims  its  fliiiie  ; 

w  And,  ere  the  fun  fliall  gild  the  morn, 
"  Your  blood  fliall  reek  on  mine." 

"  Your  words  are  brave,"  the  chief  return'd ; 

"  But  deeds  approve  the  man. 
"  Set  by  your  men,  and,  hand  to  hand, 

"  We'll  try  what  valour  can." 

With  dauntlefs  ftep  he  forward  ftrode, 

And  dar'd  him  to  the  fight : 
The  Grjeme  gave  hack,  and  fear'd  his  arm, 

For  well  he  knew  his  might. 

Four  of  his  men,  the  braveft  four, 
Sunk  down  beneath  his  fword ; 


But  ftill  he  fcorn'd  the  po»r  revenpe, 
And  fought  tlieir  haughty  lord. 

Behind  him  bafely  came  the  Grjeme, 

And  wounded  in  the  fide  : 
Out  fpouting  came  the  purple-ftrearo, 

And  all  his  tartans  dy'd. 

But  yet  his  hand  not  dropp'd  the  fword", 

Nor  funk  he  to  the  ground, 
Till  through  his  en'my's  heart  his  fword 

Had  forc'd  a  mortal  wound. 

Grseme,  like  a  tree  by  winds  o'erthrown, 

Fell  breathiefs  on  th«  clay  ; 
And  down  befi,-le  him  funk  the  Rofs, 

And  faint  and  dying  lay. 

Matilda  faw,  and  faft  fhe  ran : 

"  O  fpare  his  life,"  (he  cried ; 
"  Lord  Buchan's  daughter  begs  his  life ; 

"  Let  her  not  be  denied." 

Her  well-known  voice  the  hero  heard ; 

He  rais'd  his  death-clos'd  eyes  ; 
He  ftx'd  them  on  the  weeping  maid* 

And  weakly  thus  replies : 

"  In  vain  Matilda  begs  the  life 

"  By  death's  arreft  d«ny'd  ; 
"  My  race  is  run— adieu,  my  loVe  '."-^ 

Then  clos'd  his  eyes,  and  dy'd. 

The  fword,  yet  warm  from  his  left  fide, 

With  frantic  hand  fhe  drew : 
"  I  come,  Sir  James  the  Rofs,*'  Ais  cry'J, 

"  I  come  to  follow  you." 

The  hilt  fhe  lean'd  againft  the  ground. 

And  bar'd  her  fnowy  breaft, 
Then  fell  upon  her  lover's  face, 

And  funk  to  endlefs  reft. 

ANACREONTIC. 

TO  A  WASP. 

The  following  it  a  Ludicrous  ftnilatiort  of  f  ** 
ufual  Anacreontics ;  the  Spirit  of  compofing 
which  was  raging,  a  few  years  ago,  amenf  ail 
the  Sweet  Singers  of 'Great  Britain. 

WINOED  wand'rer  of  the  iky ! 

Inhabitant  of  heav'n  high  ! 

Dreadful  with  thy  dragon  tail, 

Hydra-head,  and  coat  of  mail ! 

Why  doft  thou  my  peace  moleft  ? 

Why  doft  thou  difturb  my  reft  ? 

When  in  May  the  meads  are  feen, 

Sweet  enamel,  white  and  green  '. 

And  the  gardens,  and  the  bow'rs, 

And  the  forefts,  and  the  flow'rt, 

Don  their  robes  of  curious  dye, 

Fine  confuGon  to  the  eye  ! 

Did  I chafe  thee  in  thy  flight? 

Did  I put  thee  in  a  fright  ? 

Did  I ipoil  thy  treafiKe  hid  J 

Never— never-  -never  did. 

Envious  nothing,  pray  beware  ; 

Tempt  mine  anger,  if  you  dare. 

Truft  not  in  thy  Itrength  of  win  j  j 

Truft  n«  in  thy  length  of  fting. 
Til 


THE  WORKS   OF  BRUCE. 


Heav'n  nor  earth  fhail  thee  defend  ; 

I  thy  buz/ing  ibon  will  end- 

Take  my  counfel,  while  you  may ; 

Devil  take  yon,  if  you  ftay. 

Wilt — thou---(lare---my-,-face — to — wound  ?— — 

Thus,  I  fell  thee  to  the  ground. 

Down  among  the  dead  men,  now 

Thou  lhalt  forget  thouere  waft  thou. 

Anacreontic  bards  beneath, 

Thus  mail,  wail  thee  after  death. 

Chorus  ofElyJian  Bards  *< 

«'  A  waip  for  a  wonder,     ' 
*'•  To  Paradife  under  t 

«'  D,efcends:  fee,  he  wanders 
"  By  Styx's  meanders ! 
*'  Behold,  how  he  glows, 
"  Amidft  Rhodope's  fnows  I 
"  He  fweats  in  a  trice, 
"  In  the  regions  of  ice  ! 
"  Lo;  he  cools,  by  Gad's. ire, 
"  Amidft  brimftone  and  fire  '. 
"  He  goes  to  our  king, 

And  he  Ihows  him  his  fting, 

(God  Fluto  loves  fatire, 

As  women  love  attire)  ; 

Our  king  fets  him  free, 

Like  faiu'd  Euridice. 

Thus  a  wafp  could  prevail 

O'er  the  devil  and  hell, 

A  conquelr  both  hard  and  laborious  I 

Though  hell  had  faft  bound  him, 

And  tl»e  devil  did  confound  him, 
*!  Yet  his  fting  and  his  wing  were  victorious." 

THE  MOUSIAD. 

A  MINOR  EPIC  POEM. 

la  the  Planner  of  Homer. 

JL    FRAGMENT. 

IN  ancient  times,  ere  traps  were  fram'ct, 
Or  cats  in  Britain's  ifle  were  known  ; 

A  inoule,  for  pow'r  and  valour  fam'd, 
Foflefs'd  in  peace  the  regal  throne. 

A  farmer's  honfe  he  nightly  ftorm'd 

(In  vain  were  bolts,  in  vain  were  keys}  ; 

The  milk's  fair  furface  he  deform'd, 

And  digg'd  entrenchments  in  the  cheefe. 

In  vain  the  farmer  vvatch'd  by  night, 
In  vain  he  fpread  the  poifori'd  bacon; 

The  moute  was  wile  as  well  as  wight, 
Nor  could  by  force  or  fraud  be  taken. 

His  fubjedls  follow'd  where  he  led, 

.  And  dealt  deftrudlion  all  around  ; 
His  people,  fliepherd-like,  he  fed  : 
Such  mice  are  rarely  to  be  found  ! 

But  evilfprtune  ha,d  decreed 

(The  foe  of  mice  as  well  as.  men). 
The  royal  moufe  at  laft  (hould  bleed, 

Should  fall—ne'er  to  arife  again. 

*  The  Cboms  is  faid  to  be  the  produtlion  of 
Zcfari.  r 


Upon  a  night,  as  authors  faf, 
A  lucklefs  icent  »ur  hero  drew, 

Upon  forbidden  ground  to  ftray, 
And  pals  a  narrow  cranny  through. 

That  night  a  feaft  the  farmer  made, 
And  joy  unbounded  fill'd  the  heuie  5 

The  fragments  in  the  pantry  fpread, 
Afforded  bus'nefs  to  the  moufe. 

He  eat  his  fill,  and  back  again 
Return'd;  but  accefs  was  deny 'd. 

He  fearch'd  each  corner,  but  in  vain  - 
He  found  it  clofe  on  every  fide. 

Let  norie  our  hero's  fears  deride ; 

He  roar'd  (tan  mice  of  modern  days, 
As  mice  are  dwindl'd  and  decay'd, 

So  great  a  voice  could  fcarcely  raife}. 

Rous'd  at  the  voice,  the  farmer  ran, 
And  fei/'d  upon  his  haplefs  prey. 

With  entreaties  the  moufe  began, 
And  pray'rs,  his  anger  to  allay. 

"  O  fpare  my  life,"  he  trembling  cries; 

"  My  fubjedts  will  a  ranfpm  give, 
Cf  Large  as  thy  wiihes  can  devife  ; 

"  Soon  as  it  fliall  be  heard  I  live." 

"  No,  wretch !"  the  farmer  fays  in  wrath, 
"  Thou  dy'ft  ;  no  ranfom  I'll  receive." 

"  My  fubjedls  will  revenge  my  death," 
He  faid---"  this  dying  charge  I  leave." 

The  farmer  lifts  his  armed  hand, 

And  on  the  moufe  inflicls  an  wound  ; 

What  moufe  could  fuch  a  blow  withftand  .' 
He  fell,  and,  dying,  bit  the  ground. 

Thus  Lambris  fell,  who  flourifli'd  long, 
(I  half  forgot  to  tell  his  name)  ; 

But  his  renown  lives  in  the  fong, 

And  future  times  ihall  fpeak  his  fame. 

A  moufe,  who  walk'd  about  at  large 
In  fafety,  heard  his  mournful  cries; 

He  heard  him  give  his  dying  charge, 
And  to  the  reft  he  frantic  flies. 

Thrice  he  effay'd  to  fpeak,  and  thrice 
Tears,  fijch  as  mice  may  ftied,  fell  down. 

"  Revenge  your  monarch's  death,"  he  cries ; 
His  voice  half  ftifl'd  with  a  groan. 

But  having  reaffum'd  his  fenfes, 

And  reafon,  fuch  as  mice  may  have, 

He  told  out  all  the  circumftances, 

With  many  a  ftrain  and  broken  heave. 

Chill'd  with  fad  grief,  th1  affembly  heard  } 
Each  dropp'd  a  tear,  and  bow'd  the  head  : 

But  fymptoms  foon  of  rage  appear'd, 
And  vengeance,  for  the  royal  dead. 

Long  fat  they  mute  :  at  laft  uprofe 
The  great  Hypenor,  blamelefs  fage  ! 

A  hero  born  to  many  woes ; 

His  head  was  filver'd  o'er  with  age. 

His  bulk  fo  large,  his  joints  fo  ftrong, 
Though  worn  with  grief,  and  paft  his  prime 


POEMS. 


293 


Few  rats  could  equal  him,  'tis  fung, 
As  rats  are  in  thefe  dregs  of  time. 

Two  fons,  in  battle  brave,  he  had, 
Sprung  from  fair  Lalage's  embrace ; 

Short  time  they  grac'd  his  nuptfnl  bed, 
By  dogs  deftroy'd  in  cruel  chafe. 

Their  timelefs  fate  the  mother  Wail'd, 
And  pin'd  with  heart-corroding  grief: 

O'er  every  comfort  it  prevail'd, 
Till  death,  advancing,  brought  relief. 

Now  he's  the  laft  of  all  his  race, 

A  prey  to  woe  :  he  inly  pin'd; 
Grief  piclur'd  fat  upon  his  face ; 

Upon  his  breaft  his  head  reclin'd. 

"  And,  O  my  fellow  mice  !"  he  faid, 
"  Thefe  eyes  ne'er  faw  a  day  fo  dire, 

"  Save  v,  hen  my  gallant  children  bled. 
"  O  wretched  fons  !  O  wretched  fire ! 

*'  But  now  a  gen'ral  caufe  demands 

"  Our  grief,  and  claims  our  tears  alone, 

"  Our  monarch,  flain  by  wicked  hands, 
«  No  iffue  left  to  fill  the  throne. 

*  Yet,  though  by  hoftile  man  much  wrong'd, 
"  My  counfel  is,  from  arms  forbear, 

"  That  fo  your  days  may  be  prolong'd ; 
"  For  man  is  Heav'n's  peculiar  care." 

ELEGY. 

WRITTEN  IN   SPRING. 

Tis  paft  :  the  iron  north  has  fpent  his  rage  ; 

Stern  winter- now  refigns  the  length'ning  day; 
The  ftormy  howlings  of  the  winds  affuage, 

And  warm  o'er  ether  weftern  breezes  play. 

Of  genial  heat  and  cheerful  light  the  fourcc, 
From  fouthern  climes,  beneath  another  fky, 

The  fun,  returning,  wheels  his  golden  courfe  ; 
Before  his  beams  all  noxious  vapours  fly, 

Far  to  the  north  grim  winter  draws  his  train 
To  his  own  clime,  to  Zembla's  frozen  fhore  ; 

"Where,  thron'd  on  ice,  he  holds  eternal  reign ; 
Where  whirlwinds  madden,  and  where  tempefts 
roar. 

Loos'd  from  the  bands  of  froft,  the  verdant  ground 
Again  puts  on  her  robe  of  cheerful  green, 

Again  puts  forth  her  flow'rs ;  and  all  around, 
Smiling,  the  cheerful  face  of  fpring  is  feen. 

Behold !  the  trees  new-deck  their  wither'd  boughs; 

Their  ample  leaves  the  hofpitable  plane, 
The  taper  elm,  and  lofty  afh  difclofe  : 

The  blooming  hawthorn  variegates  the  fcene. 

The  lily  of  the  vale,  of  flow'rs  the  queen, 
Puts  on  the  robe  {he  neither  few'd  nor  fpun  : 

The  birds  on  ground»  or  on  the  branches  green, 
Hop  to  and  fro,  and  glitter  in  the  fun. 

Soon  as  o'er  eaftern  hills  the  morning  peers, 
From  her  low  heft  the  tufted  lark  up  fprings ; 

And,  cheerful  finging,  up  the  air  Ihe  fleers ; 
Still  high  fhe  mounts,  ftill  loud  and  fweet  fhe 
fings. 


On  the  green  furze,  cloth'd  o'er  with  golden 
blooms, 

That  fill  the  air  with  fragrance  all  around, 
The  linnet  fits,  and  tricks  his  glofly  plumes, 

While  o'er  the  wild  his  broken  notes  refound. 

While  the  fun  journeys  down  the  weftern  Iky, 
Along  the   greeiifvvard,  mark'd   with  Roman 
mound, 

Beneath  the  bHthffjme  fhephcnVs  watchful  eye, 
The  cheerful  lambkins  dunce  and  frifk  arounij. 

Now  is  the  time  for  thofe  who  wifdom  love, 
\Vho  love  to  walk  in  virtue's  flow'ry  road, 

Along  the  lovely  paths  of  fpring  to  rove, 
And  follow  Nature  up  to  Nature's  Gqcl. 

Thus  Zoroafter  iludied  Nature's  laws ; 

Thus  Socrates,  the  wifeft  of  mankind ; 
Thus  Heav'n-taught  Plato  trac'd  th'  Almighty 
caufe, 

And  left  the  wond'ring  multitude  behind. 

Thus  Afhley  gather'd  academic  bays ; 

Thus  gentle  Thomfon,  as  the  ieafons  roll. 
Taught  them  to  fing  the  great  Creator's  praife,  , 

And  bear  their  poet's  name  from  pole  to  pole. 

Thus  have  1  walk'd  along  the  dewy  lawn  ; 

My  frequent  foot  the  blooming  wild  hath  worn ; 
Before  the  lark  I've  fung  the  beauteous  ckwn, 

And  gather'd  health  from  all  the  gales  of  morn, 

And,  even  when  winter  chill'd  the  aged  year,. 

I  wander'd  lonely  o'er  the  hoary  plain ; 
Though  frofty  Boreas  warn'd  me  to  forbear, 

Boreas,  with  all  his  tempefts,  warn'd  in  vain. 

Then  fleep  my  nights,  and  quiet  blefs'd  my  days; 

\  fear'd  no  lofs,  my  mind  was  all  my  ftore ; 
No  anxious  wiflies  e'er  diflurb'd  my  eafej    [more. 

Heav'n  gave  content  and  health — 1  aflc'd  no 
Now  fpring  returns  :  but  not  to  me  returns 

The  vernal  joy  my  better  years  have  known ; 
Dim  in  my  breaft  life's  dying  taper  burns, 

And  all  the  joys  of  life  with  health  are  flown. 
Starting  and  fliiv'ring  in  th'  inconftant  wind, 

Meagre  and  pale,  the  ghoft  of  what  I  was, 
Beneath  fome  blafted  tree  \  lie  reclin'd, 

And  count  the  filent  moments  as  they  pafs: 

The  winged  moments,  whofe  unftaying  fpeed 
No  art  can  flop,  or  in  their  courfe  arreft  ; 

Whofe  flight  fliall  fhortly  count  me  with  the  dead, 
And  lay  me  down  in  peace  with  them  that  reft. 

Oft  morning  dreams  prefage  approaching  fate  ; 

And  morning  dreams,  as  poet's  tell,  are  true. 
Led  by  pale  ghofts,  I  enter  death's  dark  gate, 

And  bid  the  realms  of  light  and  life  adieu. 

I  hear  the  helplefs  wail,  the  fhriek  of  woe  ; 

I  fee  the  muddy  wave,  the  dreary  fhore, 
The  fluggifh  flreams  that  flowly  creep  below, 

Which  mortals  viiit,  and  return  no  more. 

Farewell,  ye  blooming  fields !  ye  cheerful  plains ! 

Enough  for  me  the  church-yard's  lonely  mound, 
Where  melancholy  with  ftill  filenc.e  reigns, 

And  the  rank  grafs  waves  o'er  the  cheeilefs 

ground. 
There  let  me  wander  at  the  clofe  of  eve, 

When  fkep  fits  dewy  on  the  labourer's  cye« 


THE   WORKS   OF   BRUCE. 


The  world  and  all  its  bufy  follies  leave, 

And  talk  with  wifdom  where  my  Duphnis  lies. 

There  let  me  fleep  forgotten  in  the  clay, 

When  death  fhall  mut  thefe  weary  aching  eyes, 

Heft  in  the  hopes  of  an  eternal  day,  [arii'c; 

Till  the  long  night  is  gone,  and  the  laft  morn 

TO  JOHN  MILLAR,  M.  D. 

«N  RECOVERY  tROM  A  DANGEROUS   FIT  Of  ILL 
NESS. 

(Written  in  the  name  of  Mr.  David  Pcarfon.) 

A  RUSTIC  youth  (he  fecks  no  better  name), 
Alike  unknown  to  fortune  and  to  fame, 
Acknowledging  a  debt  he  ne'er  can  pay, 
For  thee,  O  Millar  !  frames  the  artlefs  lay. 
That  yet  he  lives,  that  vital  warmth  remains. 
And  life's  red  tide  bounds  brifldy  through  his 

veins} 

To  thee  he  owes.— His  grateful  heart  believe, 
And  take  his  thanks  Gncere,  'tis  all  he  has  to  give. 
Let  traders  brave  the  flood  in  <jueft  of  gain, 
Kept  with,  difqujetude,  as  got  with  pain ; 
Let  heroes,  tempted  by  a  founding  name, 
Purfue  bright  honour  in  the  fields  of  fame. 
Can  wealth  or  fame  a  moment's  eafe  command 
To  hini  who  finks  beneath  afflidicm's  hand  ?    : 


Upon  the  wither'd  limbs  frefh  beauty  fted ; 
Or  cheer  the  dark,  dark  maniions  of  the  dead  ? 

VERSES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  REV. 
MR.  MACEWEN  *. 

MACEWF.N  gone!  and  fliall  the  mournful  mufe, 

A  tear  unto  iiis  memory  ret-nfe  ! 

Forbid  it  all  ye  powers  that  guard  the  juft, 

Your  care  his  atftinns,  and  his  life  your  truft. 

The  righteous  perifti !— is  Maccwen  dead ! 

In  him  religion,  virtue's  friend,  is  fled. 

Modeft  in  frrife,bold  in  religion's  caufe, 

He  fought  true  honour  in  his  God's  applaufe. 

What  manly  beauties  in  his  works  appear, 

Clofe  without  (training,  and  concife  though  clear. 

Though  fhort  his  life,  not  fo  his  deathkfs  fume, 

Succeeding  ages  fhall  revere  his  name. 

Hail,  bleft  immortal,  hail !  while  we  are  toft, 

Thy  happy 'foul  is  landed  on  the  court, 

That  land  of  blifs,  where,  on  the  peaceful  fhor,e,, 

Thou  view'ft,  with  pleafure,  all  the  dangers  o'er ; 

Laid  in  th'e  filent  grave,  thy  honour'd  duft 

Expe6b  the  refurredion  of  the  juft. 


*  Author  ef  a  freatife  on  t/je  Scripture!,  Tyfct.  3*4 
Figures,  and  "  fjfey*  on  Parlous  SuAjcfls." 


THE 
POETICAL   WORKS 


O  F 


THOMAS   CHATTERTON. 


Containing 


BU.4, 

CODDWVN, 

•  ATTI.E  O*  HASTING?, 

BALLADE  OF  CHARITII, 

^LINOURE  AN»  JUGA, 

DETHK    OF    SJK   «UARL«i    KAV- 


THR    TOUtNAMEVT, 
-ENGLYtH  MKTAMOKPHWS, 

.ECLOGUES, 

ELEGIES, 

SONGS, 

KPISTLtS, 

EPJTAPUS, 


To  •which  N  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR.. 


Behold  yon  lhade,  he  bears  an  antique  roll; 
With  many  i  'fcutcheon  clad,  and  many  a  fcroll; 
"Pis  he,  the  wond'rous  youth  of  Briflowft  plain, 
That  pour'd  in  Rowleys  garb  his  folemn  ftrain. 
A  (tripling  fcarcely,  and  j  t  more  than  man, 
His  race  was  ended,  ere  it  well  began. 
Th*  indignant  fpirit  tower'd  o'er  little  men, 
He  look'd  through  nature  with  an  angel's  ken, 
And  fcorn'd,  with  conicious  pride,  this  petty  ftage, 
The  tardy  homage  of  a  thanklefs  age. 
The  furies  wrung  his  agonizing  foul, 
And  defpeiation  mix'd  the  Stygian  bowL 

r&ESTON's  EPISTLE  TO  A  YOU.VG  GENTLEMAV. 


EDINBURGH* 
PRINTED  BY  MUND&LL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLO6& 


THE  LIFE  OF  CHATTERTON. 


FOR  the  perfonal  and  literary  hiftory  of  CHATTERTON,  "  the  boy  of  Briftol,"  the  world  is  obliged 
to  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  the  original  editor  of  the  "  Poems  fuppofed  to  be  written  by  Rowley,"  1777; 
Lord  Oxford,  author  of  "  Two  Letters  to  the  Editor  of  Chattertsn's  Mifcellanies,"  1779;  Mr. 
Herbert  Croft,  author  of  "  Love  and  Madnefs,"  1780;  Dr.  Milles,  editor  of  "  Rowley's  Poems,"  in 
4to,  1782  ;  Mr.  Bryant,  author  of  "  Obfervatiow  on  Rowley*s  Poems,"  1782-  ;  Mr.  Warton,  author  of 
"  An  Inquiry  into  the  Authenticity  of  the  Poems  attributed  to  Rowley ;"  Mr.  Malone,  author  of 
"  Curfory  Obfervations  on  the  Poems  attributed  to  Rowley.1'  1782  ;  Mr.  Badcock,  writer  of  the 
articles  on  the  Rowleian  Contnrverfy,  in  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  1782  ^  and  Dr.  George  Gregory^ 
writer  of  the  article  CUATTERTON,  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the  "  Biographia  Britannica,''  printed 
feparately  in  1789. 

The  elegant  and  accurate  narrative  of  Mr.  Croft  derives  an  additional  value  and  importance,  from 
being  the  vehicle  of  Chatterton's  letters  to  his  mother,  and  an  interefting  letter  from  his  fifter,  Mrs. 
Newton.  The  laboured  narratives  of  Dr.  Milles  and  Mr.  Bryant  exhibit  ftrong  proofs  of  the  te 
merity  and  credulity  of  the  learned  writers ;  but  they  contain  Ibmothing  to  amufe  curiofity,  and 
fomething  to  afford  information ;  particularly  the  anecdotes  furnifliad  by  his  patrons  Mr.  Catcott 
and  Mr.  Barret ;  and  the  intelligence  communicated  by  his  companions,  Mr.  Thiftlewaite,  Mr. 
Smith,  Mr.  Ruddal,  Mr.  Carey,  &c.  The  candid  and  comprehenfive  narrative  of  Dr.  Gregory, 
"  contains  all  the  particulars,  which  are  known  concerning  that  extraordinary  character,  collected  in 
one  view,"  and  form  a  valuable  addition  to  the  ftock  of  biographical  narratives,  already  in  the  pof- 
feffion  of  the  public. 

The  fuels  ftated  in  the  prefent  account,  are  chiefly  taken  from  the  narratives  of  Mr.  Croft  and 
Dr.  Gregory,  with  the  addition  of  fuch  particulars,  as  fubfequent  communications  in  that  valuable 
mifcellany,  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  and  other  publications,  have  fupplied. 

Thomas  Chatterton  was  born  at  Briftol,  November  20.  175*.  The  office  of  fexton  of  St.  Mary 
Redcliffe-,  in  Briftol,  had  continued  in  different  branches  of  his  family  for  more  than  150  years. 
John  Chatterton,  the  laft  of  the  name^  who  enjoyed  that  office,  died  in  1748.  His  father,  Thomas 
Chatterton,  was  the  nephew  of  the  feston.  In  the  early  part  of  life,  he  had  been  in  the  ftation  of 
a  writing-ufher  to  a  claffical  fchool,  was  afterwards  engaged  as  a  finging  man  of  the  Cathedral  of 
Briftol;  and  latterly,  was  mafterof  the  free  fchool  in  Pyle-tlreet,  in  that  city.  He  died  in  Anguft 
11752,  about  three  months  before  the  birth  of  his  fon. 

By  the  premature  lofs  of  his  father,  he  was  deprived  of  that  careful  attention  which  would  pro 
bably  have  conducted  his  early  years  through  all  the  difficulties  that  circumftanfes  or  difpofitioa 
might  oppofe  to  the  attainment  of  knowledge. 

At  the  age  of  five  years,  he  was  committed  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Love,  who  had  fucceeded  his  father 
in  the  fchool  in  Pyle-ftreet ;  but  either  his  faculties  were  not  yet  opened,  or  the  waywardnefsof  ge-  . 
nius  incapacitated  him  from  receiving  inftrudlion  in  the  ordinary  methods,  and  he  was  remanded  t» 
Ijis  mother,  as  a  dull  boy,  and  incapable  of  improvement. 

She  was  rendered  extremely  unhappy  by  the  unpromifing  afpect  of  his  infant  faculties,  till  he  felt 
in  love,  asfhe  exprefted  herfelf,  with  the  illuminated  capitals  of  an  old  mufical  manufcript  in  French, 
which  enabled  her  to  initiate  him  in  the  alphabet.  She  afterwards  taught  him  to  read,  from  an  old 
black-lettered  Teftament  or  Bible;  and  it  is  not  unveafonable  to  fuppofe,  that  his  peculiar  attach 
ment  to  antiquities,  may,  in  a  ceufiderable  degree,  have  refulted  from  this  circumftance. 


ss>t  .     THE  LIFE   OF  CHATTER.TON. 

On  the  jj  of  Anguft  1760,  when  he  wanted  a  few  months  of  eight  years  of  age,  he  was  admitted 
into  Colfton's  charit^-fchool,  in  St.  Auguftin's  Back,  in  Briftol.  In  this  inftitution,  the  boys  are  board 
ed  in  the  houfe,  clothed,  and  taught  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic.  The  fchool  hours,  in  fum- 
iner,  are  from  feven  o'clock  till  twelve  in  the  morning,  and  from  one  till  five  in  the  afternoon  ;  and 
in  winter,  from  eight  to  twelve,  and  from  one  to  four.  The  boys  are  obliged  to  be  in  bed  every 
night  in  the  year  at  -eight  o'clock,  and  are  never  permitted  to  be  abfenl  from  Ichool,  except  on  Sa- 
turdajs  and  faint-days,  and  then  only  from  between  one  and  two  in  the  afternoon,  till  between  feven 
and  eight  in  the  evening. 

The  firft  years  of  his  refulence  at  this  feminary  pafled  without  notice,  and,  perhaps,  without  effort. 
His  fitter,  indeed,  in  her  letter  to  Mr.  Croft,  remarks,  that  he  very  early  difcovered  a  thirft  for  pre 
eminence,  and  that  even  before  he  was  five  years  old,  he  was  accuftomed  to  prefide  over  his  play 
mates.  To  the  fame  purpofe,  it  is  iaSd,  that  when  very  young,  a  manufacturer  promifed  to  make  the 
family  a  prefentof  fome  earthen  ware,  and  that  on  alking  him  what  device  he  would  have  painted  on 
his; — "  paint  me,"  faid  he,  *'  an  angel  with  wings  and  a  trumpet,  to  trumpet  my  name  over  the 
world." 

It  appears  from  Mr.  Thiftlewaite's  letter,  publiftied  by  Dr.  Milles,  that  he  formed  a  connection 
with  Chatterton,  towards  the  latter  end  of  1763,  by  means  of  his  intimacy  with  Mr.  Thomas  Philips, 
the  afllftant  matter  of  the  charity  fchool,  who  pofiefleda  tafte  for  hiftory  and  poetry  ;  and  by  his  at 
tempts  in  verfe,  excited  a  degree  of  literary  emulation  among  the  elder  boys.  It  is  very  remarkable, 
that  Chatterton  is  laid  to  have  appeared  altogether  an  idle  fyedlator  of  thofe  poetical  contefts ;  he  ap 
parently  pofTefled  neither  inclination  nor  ability  for  literary  purfuits,  nor  does  Mr.  Thiftlethwaite  be 
lieve,  that  he  attempted  a  fingle  couplet  during  the  firft  three  years  of  his  acquaintance  with  him. 
Whatever  grounds  Mr.  Thiftlethwaite  might  have  for  his  opinion,  Chatterton,  doubtlefs,  at  that  pe 
riod  was  pofiefled  of  a  vigour  of  understanding,  of  a  quicknefs  of  penetration,  a  boldnefs  of  imagina 
tion,  far  kiperior  to  the  talents  of  his  companions. 

If  he  produced  any  compofitions,  his  exquifite  tafte  led  him  tofupprefs  them.  In  the  mean  time, 
he  was  laying  in  (lores  of  information,  and  improving  both  his  imagination  and  his  judgment. 

About  his  tenth  year,  his  lifter  informs  us,  he  acquired  a  tafte  for  reading,  and  began  to  hire  books 
from  a  circulating  library,  with  the  trifle  allowed  him  for  pocket-money. 

As  his  tafte  was  different  from  children  of  his  own  age,  his  difpofitions  were  alfo  different.  In- 
fteadof  the  thoughtlefc  levity  of  childhood,  he  poffefled  the  gravity,  penfivenefs,  and  melancholy 
of  matttrer  life.  "  His  Spirits,"  his  filter  fays,  "  were  rather  uneven ;  fometimes  fo  gloomed,  that  for 
many  days  together,  he  would  fay  very  little,  and  that  by  conftraint ;  at  other  times  exceedingly 
claeerful."  His  intimates  in  the  fchool  were  few,  and  thofe  of  the  moft  ferious  caft. 

In  the  hours  allotted  him  for  play,  he  generally  retired  to  read ;  and  he  was  particularly  felicitous 
to  borrow  books.  Between  his  eleventh  and  twelfth  year,  he  wrote  a  catalogue  of  the  books  he  had 
read,  to  the  number  o.f  fcventy,  confuting  chiefly  of  hiftory  and  divinity. 

T«e  esrlieil  exiftiug  fpecimen  of  his  compofition,  is  a  poem  called  the  Apnjlate  Will,  printed  ia 
**  Love  and  Madncfs,"  which  appears  by  the  date,  April  14.  1764,  to  have  been  written  at  the  age 
of  eleven  years  and  a  half,  and  was  probably  tranfcribed  from  the  remains  of  a  pocket-book,  which 
his  filler  had  made  him  a  prefent  of,  as  a  new-year's  gift,  and  wliich  he  returned  at  the  end  of  th« 
year,  filled  with  writing,  chiefly  poetry. 

This  fact  is  a  ftrong  contradiction  to  Mr.  Thiftlethwaite's  affertion ;  but  Chatterton  might,  at  that 
time,exerc)fe  himfelf  in  compofition,  without  being  under  any  neceffity  of  imparting  his  compofitions 
to  Mr.  Thiftlejhwaite  or  Mr.  Philips. 

At  twelve  years  old,  he  was  confirmed  by  the  Bifhop.  His  fitter  adds,  that  he  made  very  fenfible 
and  ferious  remarks  on  the  awfulnefs  of  the  ceremony,  and  on  his  own  feelings  preparatory  to  it. 

He  foon  after,  during  the  weeK  in  which  he  was  door-keeper,  made  fome  verfes  on  the  Loft  &ayt 
and  paraphrafe^  the  nituh  chapter  of  Job,  and  fome  chapters  ofJfaiab. 

The  bent  of  his  genius,  however,  more  ftrongly  inclined  him  to  fatire,  of  which  he  was  tolerably 
laviflj  on  his  fchcol-fellows  ;  nor  did  the  upper  matter,  Mr.  Warner,  efcape  the  rod  of  his  repre- 
henfion. 

From  what  has  been  {elated,  it  is  probable,  that  he  was  no  favourite  with  Mr.  Warmer  ;  he,  how> 
ever,  found  a  friend  in  the  under  matter,  Mr.  Hayne«,  who  conceived  for  kira  a  ftrong  an  d  affecfl ioa» 
ate  attachment. 


THE   LIFE   OF  CHATTERTON.  «9> 

Mr.  Thifllethwaitc,  in  the  letter  already  quoted,  fays,  that  Chatterton  informed  him,  that  he  was  in 

pofleflion  of  certain  old  MSS.  which  had  been  found,  depofited  in  a  chefl,  in  Redcliffe  church,  and 


igno 
rance  of  the  characters,  manners,  language,  and  orthography  in  which  they  were  written,  all  our 
efforts  were  unprofitably  exerted."  There  appears  goodreafon  for  fufpecHng  fome  miftake  in  Mr. 
Thifllethwaite's  narrative,  either  as  to  the  date,  or  fome  other  circumilancc  ;  fmce  both  his  mother 
and  filler  aflirm,  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  parchments  brought  from  Redcliffe  church,  till  after 
he  had  left  fchool. 

Under  all  the  difadvantages  of  education,  the  acquifitions  of  Chatterton  were  furpiifing.  Befideg 
the  variety  of  reading  which  he  had  gone  through,  Mr.  Croft  remarks,  he  had  fome  knowledge  ot 
mufic  ;  had  acquired  a  tafte  for  drawing,  which  afterwards  he  greatly  improved ;  and  the  uflier  of  th? 
fchool  aflerted,  he  had  made  a  rapid  progrefs  in  arithmetic. 

An  extraodinary  effed  of  his  difcovering  an  employment  adapted  to  his  genius,  is  remarked  in  his 
filler's  letter.  He  had  been  gloomy  from  the  time  he  began  to  learn  ;  but,  it  was  obferved,  that  he 
became  more  cheerful  after  he  began  to  write  poetry. 

On  the  ifl  of  July  1767,  he  left  the  charity  fchool,  and  was  bound  apprentice  to  Mr.  John  Lam 
bert,  attorney,  of  Briilol,  for  feven  years;  the  apprentice-fee  was  ten  pounds;  the  mailer  was  to 
find  himi  in  meat,  drink,  clothes,  and  lodging;  the  mother  in  wafhing,  and  mending.  He  flqit  in 
the  fame  room  with  the  foot-boy,  and  went  every  morning  at  eight  o'clock  to  the  office,  which  was 
at  fome  diflancc  ;  and  except  the  ufual  time  for  dinner,  continued  there  till  eight  o'clock  at  night, 
after  which  he  was  at  liberty  till  ten,  when  he  was  always  expected  to  be  at  home. 

Mr.  Lambert  affords-  the  moft  honourable  teftimony  in  Chatterton's  favour,  with  refpedt  to  the  re 
gularity  of  his  attendance,  as  he  never  exceeded  the  limited  hours  but  once,  when  he  had  leave  to 
fpend  the  evening  with  his  mother  and  fome  friends.  Once,  and  but  once,  he  thought  himfelf  under 
fhe  neceffity  of  correcting  him  ;  and  that  was  for  fending  a  very  abufive  anonymous  letter  to  his  old 
fchoolmafter,  a  fhort  time  after  he  was  bound  to  him.  He,  however,  accufes  him  of  a  fullen  and 
gloomy  temper,  which  particularly  difplayed  itfelf  among  the  fervants.  Chatterton's  fuperior  abili 
ties,  and  fuperior  information,  with  the  pride  which  ufually  accompanies  thefe  qualities,  doubtlefs 
rendered  him  an  unfit  inhabitant  of  the  kitchen,  where  his  ignorant  affociates  would  naturally  be 
inclined  to  envy,  and  would  affecT:  to  defpife  thofu  accomplifhments  which  he  held  in  the  highell  et 
timation  ;  and  even  the  familiarity  of  vulgar  and  illiterate  perfons,  muft  undoubtedly  be  rather  dif- 
gufting  than  agreeable  to  a  mind  like  his. 

M?.  Lambert's  was  a  fituation  not  unfavourable  to  the  cultivation  of  his  genius.  Though  much 
Confined,  he  had  much  leifure.  His  mailer's  bufinefs  confumed  a  very  fmall  portion  of  his  time ; 
frequently,  his  fifter  fays,  it  did  npt  engage  him  above  two  hours  in  a  day. 

While  Mr.  Lambert  was  from  home,  and  no  particular  bufmefs  interfered,  his  Hated  employment 
was  to  copy  precedents,  a  book  of  which,  containing  344  folio  pages,  clofely  written  by  Chatterton, 
is  ftill  in  pofleflion  of  Mr.  Lambert,  as  well  as  another  of  about  thirty  pages.  The  office  library 
contained  nothing  but  law  books,  except  an  o.ld  edition  of  Cambden's  "  Britannia." 

He  feems  to  have  had  a  very  early  predilection  for  old  words  and  black-leiter  lore.  His  fiflcr  re 
lates,  that  foon  after  his  apprenticeship,  and  fome  months  before  he  was  fifteen,  he  "  wrote  a  letter 
to  an  old  fchool-mate  (then  at  New-York),  confifling  of  a  collection  of  all  the  hard  words  in  the 
Englifh  language,"  a.nd  "  requefled  hin;  to  anfwer  it."  He  that  could  collect  bard  ivordi  for  a  let 
ter,  might  colled  old  ones  for  a  poem. 

He  had  continued  this  courfe  of  life  for  upwards  of  a  year ;  not,  however,  without  fom«  f,mptonu 
of  an  averfion  to  his  profeffion,  before  he  began  to  attract  the  notice  of  the  literary  world. 

In  the  beginning  of  Odober  1768,  the  new  bridge  at  Briflol  was  finifhed.  At  tha.t  time,  there 
appeared  in  Fcelix  Farley's  "  Briflol  Journal,"  an  account  of  the  ceremonies  on  opening  the  old 
bridge,  introduced  by  a  letter  to  the  printer,  intimating,  that  "  the  following  dcfcription  of  Tie 
fr'iarsfrjl  Pa/mg  over  tic  Old  Bridge,  was  taken  from  an  ancient  manufcript,"  and  figned  Dinbehw 
Erifolienfu.  The  paper  demonstrates  ftrang  powers  of  invention,  and  uncommon  knowledge  «f  *n- 
^ent  cuftoms. 


3«>  THE   LIFE   OF  CHATTERTON. 

Mr.  Ruddal  informed  Mr.  Croft  that  he  affifted  Chatterton  in  difguifing/wra/  pieces  of  parch 
ment  with  the  appearance  of  age,  juft  before  Tie  Account  of  Pa/mg  the  'Bridge  appeared  in  Farley's 
"  Journal ;"  that  after  they  had  made  feveral  experiments,  Chatterton  faid,  "  this  xvill  do,  now  I 
will  black  ^^parchment ;"  and  that  Chatterton  told  him,  after  the  Account  appeared  in  the  newf- 
paper,  that  tin  parchment  which  he  had  blacked  and  difguifed  after  their  experiments,  was  what  he 
had  fent  to  the  printer,  containing  the  Account. 

So  fingular  a  memoir  could  not  fail  to  excite  curiofity,  and  many  perfons  became  anxious  to  fee  the 
original.  .After  much  inquiry,  it  was  found  that  the  manufcript  was  brought  to  die  printer  by  Chat 
terton.  "  To  the  threats  of  thofe,"  fays  Mr.  Croft,  "  who  treated  him  (agreeably  to  his  appearance) 
as  a  child,  he  returned  nothing  but  haughtinefs,  and  a  refufal  to  give  any  account."  He  at  firft  al 
leged  that  he  was  employed  to  tranfci  ibe  the  contents  of  certain  manufcripts  by  a  gentleman,  who 
alfo  had  engaged  him  to  furnifh  complimentary  verfes,  infcribed  to  a  lady,  with  whom  that  gentle 
man  was  in  love.  On  being  farther  preffed,  he  at  laft  declared,  that  he  had  received  the  paper,  to 
gether  with  many  other  manufcripts,  from  his  father,  who  had  found  them  in  a  large  cheft,  in  the 
upper  room,  over  the  chapel,  on  the  north  fide  of  RcdclifFe  church. 

When  rents  were  received,  and  kept  in  fpecie,  it  was  ufual  for  corporate  bodies  to  keep  the  writ 
ings  and  rents  of  eftates,  left  for  particular  purpofes,  in  chefts  appropriated  to  each  particular  bene 
factor,  and  called  by  the  benefactor's  name. 

Over  the  north  porch  of  Redcliffe  church,  which  was  founded  or  rebuilt,  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
IV.  by  Mr.  William  Canynge,  a  merchant  of  Briftol,  there  is  a  kind  of  muniment  room,  in  which 
were  depofited  fix.  or  feven  chefts,  one  of  which  in  particular  was  called  Mr.  Canynge  s  cofre.  This 
cheft,  it  is  faid,  was  fecured  by  fix  keys,  intrufted  to  the  minifter,  procurator  of  the  church,  mayor, 
and  church  wardens,  which,  in  procefs  of  time,  were  loft. 

In  1727,  a  notion  prevailed,  that  fome  title-deeds  and  other  writings  of  value  were  contained  ia 
jVfr.  Canynge' 't  cofre :  in  confequcnce  of  which,  an  order  of  veftry  was  made  that  the  cheft  fhould  be- 
opened  under  the  inflection  of  an  attorney,  and  that  thefe  writings  which  appeared  of  confeqnence 
{hould  be  removed  to  the  fouth  porch  of  the  church.  The  locks  were  therefore  forced,  and  not  only 
the  principle  cheft,  but  the  others,  which  were  alfo  fuppofed  to  contain  writings,  were  broken  open. 
The  deeds  immediately  relating  to  the  church  were  kept,  and  the  other  manufcripts  were  left  ex- 
pofed,  as  of  no  value. 

Chatterton's  father,  having  free  accefs  to  the  church,  by  means  of  his  uncle,  the  fexton,  carried 
off,  from  time  to  time,  parcels  of  the  parchments  for  covering  copy-books  and  Bibles. 

At  his  death,  his  widow  being  under  the  neceffity  of  removing,  carried  the  remainder  to  her  owa 
habitation  ;  where,  according  to  her  account,  they  continued  neglected,  or  were  converted  into 
thread  papers,  till  her  fon  took  notice  of  them  and  carried -them  away,  telling  her,  "  that  he  had 
found  a  treafure." 

The  account  which  he  thought  proper  to  give  of  them,  and  which  he  wifhed  to  be  believed,  was, 
that  they  were  poetical,  and  other  compofuions,  by  Mr.  Canynge,  and  a  particular  friend  of  his, 
Thomas  Rowley,  whom  he  at  firft  called  a  monk,  and  afterwards  a  fecular  prieft  of  the  fifteenth 
century. 

Mr.  Catcott,  apewterer  in  Briftol,  having  heard  of  Chatterton's  pretended  difcovery,  was  intro 
duced  to  him,  and  foon  after  obtained  from  him,  very  readily,  without  any  reward.  The  Brifio-w 
Tragedy,  and  Rowley's  Epitaph  upon  Mr.  Canyrgc's  Ancfjlor.  In  a  few  days  he  brought  fome  more, 
among  which  was  the  Tellmv  Roll. 

Tl.sfe  pieces  were  immediately  communicated  to  Mr.  Barret,  a  refpectable  furgeon  in  Briftol, 
then  engaged  in  writing  the  hiftory  of  that  city,  whofe  friendship  and  patronage,  by  thefe  means, 
Ch'.ttcrton  was  fortunate  enough  to  fecure. 

'  During  the  firft  conventions  which  Mr.  Catcott  had  with  him,  he  heard  him  mention  the  names 
•f  mcft  of  the  poems,  fmcc  printed,  as  being  in  his  poflefiion. 

-  He  afterwards  grew  more  fufpicious  and  referved ;  and  it  was  out  rareiy,and  with  difficulty,  that 
any  more  originals  could  be  obtained  from  him. 

He  confeffed  to  Mr.  Catcott  that  he  had  deftroyed  feveral,  and  fome  which  he  owned  to  have 
fltcn  in  Jus  poffeffion,  .were  never  afterwards  feen.  One  of  thefe  was  the  Tr^cd^  of  tie  Aj>ojitttf>  ef 


THE  LIFE   OF   CH ATTERTO  V.  301 

Dvhich  only  a  fmall  part  has  been  preferved  by  Mr.  Barret.  The  fubject  of  it  was  the  apoftacy  of  a. 
perfon  from  the  Chriftian  to  the  Jewilh  faith. 

Mr.  Barret,  however,  obtained  from  him,  at  different  times,  feveral  fragments  in  vcrfe  and  prof?, 
written  upon  vellum;  and  he  affcrted  them  to  be  a  part  of  Rowley's  manufcripts.  Afac  Jirmle  of. 
one  of  thefe  fragments,  the  Account  of  William  Canynges  Feaft,  engraved  by  Mr.  Strutt,  is  publifh- 
ed  in  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  and  Dr.  Milles's  edition  of  Rowley's  Poems.  The  hand-writing  is  not  tte  re 
cord  hand  ufed  in  the  fifteenth  century.  The  Arabian  numerals,  63,  are  perfectly  modern,  and  ex 
actly  fuch  as  Chatterton  himfelf  was  accuftomed  to  make. 

The  friendftiip  of  Mr.  Barret  and  Mr.  Catcott  was  of  confiderable  advantage  to  Chatterton.  He 
fpent  many  agreeable  hours  in  their  company.  His  fifter  fays,  that  after  he  was  introduced  to  their 
acquaintance!  his  ambition  daily  and  perceptibly  increafed,  and  he  would  frequently  fpeak  in  rap 
tures  of  the  undoubted  fuccefs  of  his  plan  for  future  life.  "  When  in  fpirits,  he  would  enjoy  his 
rifing  fame  ;  and,  confident  of  advancement,  he  would  promife  his  mother  and  I  fliould  be  partak 
ers  of  his  fuccefs." 

Mr.  Barret  lent  him  feveral  medical  books,  and,  at  his  requeft,  gave  him  fome  inftractions  in 
furgery. 

His  tafte  was  verfatile,  and  his  ftudies  various.  In  1768  and  1769,  Mr.  Thiftlethwaite  frequentlj 
faw  him,  and  defcribes  in  a  lively  manner,  the  employment  of  his  leifure  hours.  "  One  day  he 
might  be  found  bufily  employed  in  the  ftudy  of  heraldry  and  Englifh  antiquities,  both  of  which  arc 
numbered  among  the  moft  favourite  of  his  purfuits ;  he  next  difcovered  him  deeply  engaged,  con 
founded,  and  perplexed,  amidft  the  fubtilties  of  metaphyfical  difquifitions,  or  loft  and  bewildered  in 
the  abflrufe  labyrinths  of  mathematical  refearches ;  and  thefe  again  neglected  and  thrown  afide,  to 
make  room  for  mufic  and  aftionomy,  of  both  of  which  fciences,  his  knowledge  was  entirely  con 
fined  to  theory.  Even  phyfic  was  not  without  a  charm  to  allure  his  imagination,  and  he  would 
talk  of  Galen  and  Hippocrates  with  ail  the  confidence  and  familiarity  of  a  modern  empiric." 

With  a  view  of  perfecting  himfelf  in  the  ftudy  of  Englifli  antiquities,  he  .borrowed  Skinner's  "  Et y- 
mologicon,"  and  Benfon's  "  Saxon  Vocabulary,"  of  Mr.  Barret,  which  he  foon  returned  as  ufelefs, 
moft  of  the  interpretations  being  in  Latin. 

He  was  furniflied  by  Mr.  Green,  a  bookfeller  in  Briftol,  with  "  Kerfey's  Dictionary,"  a»d 
*'  Speght's  Chaucer,"  the  "  Glofiary"  to  which  he  carefully  tranfcribed.  Thefe  books,  together 
with  '•  Bailey's  Dictionary,"  which  he  ftudied  very  clofely,  fupplied  him  with  the  language  of 
Rowley's  Poems.  Whatever  plan  he  adopted,  ha  entered  upon  with  an  earneftnefs  and  fervour  al- 
moft  unexampled.  Like  Milton,  he  believed  he  was  more  capable  of  writing  well  at  fome  particular 
times  than  at  others  ;  and  the  full  of  the  moon  was  the  feafon  when  he  imagined  his  genius  to  be 
in  perfection ;  at  which  time  he  generally  devoted  a  confiderable  portion  of  the  night  to  compofi- 
tion. 

His  Sundays  were  continually  fpent  in  walking  alone  into  the  country  about  Briftol;  and  from 
thefe  excurfions,  he  never  failed  to  bring  home  drawings  of  churches,  or  other  objects  which  iad 
imprefied  his  romantic  imagination. 

His  attention  was  not  confined  to  the  fuppofed  poems  of  Rowley  ;  he  xvrote  a  variety  of  pieces, 
chiefly  fatirical,  both  in  profe  and  verfe,  which  he  fent  to  the  "  Town  and  Country  Magazine." 

One  of  the  firft  of  his  pieces  which  appeared,  was  a  letter  on  the  tinctures  of  the  Saxon  heralds, 
dated  Briftol,  February  4.  1769,  and  figned  Tiunhe Imus  Briftolienfs ;  and  in  the  fame  Magazine,  a 
poem  was  inferted'on  Mr.  Alcock  of  Briftol,  figned  Afaphides,  attributed  to  him,  which  has  beeu 
claimed  by  one  Lockftone,  a  linen-draper  in  Briftol. 

In  the  fame  Magazine  for  March,  are  fome  pretended  extracts  from  Rowley's  manufcripts;  and 
Jn  different  numbers  for  the  fucceeding  months,  forae  pieces,  called  Saxon  Poems,  written  in  the  ftyl« 
•f  Oflian. 

In  March  1769,  he  wrote  to  the  Hon.  Horace  Walpole,  the  prefent  Earl  of  Orford,  offering  t» 
furnifh  him  with  fome  account  of  a  feries  of  great  painters  and  engravers,  who  had  noTirifhed  at 
Briftol,  which,  he  faid,  had  been  lately  difcovered,  with  fome  old  poems,  in  that  city.  His  letter 
xvas  left  at  Bathurft's,  Mr.  Walpole's  bookfeller,  with  an  Ode  or  Sonnet,  ef  two  or  three  ftanias, 
in  alternate  rhyme,  on  the  death  of  Richard  I.  (the  era  of  which  he  firft  fixed  upon  for  his  forge. 
ries),  as  a  fpecimen  of  the  poems  which  were  found. 


3<3»  THE   LIFE   OF   CHATTERTOtf, 

"  Richard  of  Lyon's  heart  to  fight  is  gone." 

Mr.  Walpole  had  juft  before  been  made  the  inftrument  of  introducing  into  the  world  Macpheiw 
fon's  "  Ofiian."  A  fimilar  application,  therefore,  ferved  at  once  to  awaken  his  fufpicion.  He,  how 
ever,  anfwered  Chatterton's  letter,  defiring  further  information  ;  and  in  reply  was  informed,  that 
"  he  was  the  fon  of  a  poor  widow,  who  fupported  him  with  great  difficulty ;  that  he  was  appren 
tice  to  an  attorney,  but  had  a  tafte  for  more  elegant  ftudies ;"  and  hinted  a  wifh,  that  Mr.  Wal 
pole  would  aflift  him  in  emerging  from  fo  dull  a  profefllon,  by  procuring  him  fome  place,  in  which 
he  might  purfue  the  natural  bias  of  his  geniu«.  He  affirmed,  that  great  treafures  of  ancient  poetry 
had  been  difcovered  at  Brittol,  and  were  in  the  hands  of  a  pc rfon,  who  had  lent  him  the  fpecimen 
already  tranfmitted,  as  well  as  the  pieces  which  accompanied  this  letter,  among  which  was  Elinour 
and  jfujra,  "  an  abfolute  modern  paftoral,"  as  Mr.  Walpole  terms  it,  "  thinly  fprinkled  with  old 
words." 

In  the  mean  time,  the  poems  were  communicated  by  Mr.  Walpole  to  Gray  and  Mafon;  and  thefe 
excellent  and  impartial  judges,  at  firft  fight, pronounced  them  forgeries;  "  the  language  and  metres 
being  totally  unlike  any  thing  ancient." 

Mr.  Walpole,  though  convinced  of  his  intention  to  impofe  upon  him,  could  not  help  admiring  the 
fpirit  of  poetry  which  animated  thefe  compofitions.  His  reply  was  cold  and  difcouraging.  He  hint 
ed  his  fufpicions  of  the  authenticity  of  the  fuppofed  MSS.,  and  complained,  in  general  terms,  of  his 
want  of  power  to  be  a  patron,  and  advifed  him  to  purfue  the  line  of  bufinefs  in  which  he  was  plac 
ed,  as  moft  likely  to  fecure  a  decent  maintenance  for  himielf,  and  enable  him  to  aflift  his  mo 
ther. 

This  frigid  reception,  extracted  immediately  from  Chatterton  "  a  peevifh  anfwer,"  as  Mr.  Wal 
pole  terms  it;  demanding  to  have  the  MSS.  returned,  as  they  were  the  property  of  another  gentle 
man;  and  Mr.  Walpole,  either  offended  at  his  warm  and  independent  fpirit,  or  pleafed  to  be  difen- 
gaged  from  the  bufinefs  in  fo  eafy  a  manner,  proceeded  on  a  journey  to  Paris,  without  taking  any 
farther  notice  of  hini 

On  his  return,  he  found  a  letter  from  Chattertoa,  in  a  ftyle,  as  he  terms  it,  "  angularly  imperti 
nent,"  expreffive  of  much  refentment  on  account  of  the  detention  of  his  poems,  roughly  demanding 
thenv back  again,  and  adding,  "  that  Mr.  Walpole  would  not  have  dared  to  ufe  him  fo  ill,  had  he 
not  been  acquainted  with  the  narrownefs  of  his  circumftances." 

"  My  heart,"  fays  Mr.  Walpole,  in  his  "  Letters"  to  the  editor  of  Chatterton's  Mifcellaniei, "  did 
notaccufe  me  of  infolence  to  him.  I  wrote  an  anfwer  to  him,  expoftulating  with  him  on  his  in- 
juftice,  and  renewing  good  advice ;  but,  upon  fecond  thoughts,  reflecting  that  he  might  be  abfurd 
«nough  to  print  my  letter,  I  flung  it  into  the  fire,  and  wrapping  up  both  his  poems  and  letters, 
without  taking  a  copy  of  either,  for  which  I  am  now  forry,  I  returned  all  to  him ;"  and  never  af 
terwards  heard  from  him,  or  of  him,  during  his  life. 

The  affront  was  poignantly  felt  by  Chatterton,  though  it  is  perhaps  more  than  repaid  by  the  ridi 
culous  portrait  which  he  has  exhibited  of  Mr.  Wafpole,  in  the  Memoirs  of  a  Sad  Dog,  under  the 
character  of  "  the  redoubted  Baron  Otranto,  who  has  fpent  his  whole  life  in  conjectures."  He  has 
however,  paid  hinj  a  compliment,  in  his  ferfes  to  JMifs  M.  R.  printed  in  the  "  Town  and  Country 
Magazine,"  for  January  1770. 

To  keep  one  lover's  flame  alive, 
Requires  the  genius  of  a  Clive, 
With  Walfole'i  mental  tafte. 

Mt.  Walpole  has  incurred  much  cenfure  for  his  rejection  of  Chatterton,  "  as  if  his  rejection  had 
driven  him  to  defpair."  But  to  afcribe  to  his  neglect  the  dreadful  cataftrophe,  which  happened 
nearly  two  years  after,  would  be  the  higheft  degree  of  injuftice  and  abfurdity.  It  appears  from  his 
elegant  and  fpirited  narrative  of  thefe  tranfactions,  that  he  afterwards  regretted  that  he  had  not 
feen  this  extraordinary  youth,  and  that  he  did  not  pay  a  more  favourable  attention  to  his  correfpon- 
dence.  But>  to  be  neglected  in  life,  and  regretted  and  admired,  when  thefe  paffions  can  be  no  long 
er  of  fervice,  has  been  the  ufual  fate  of  genius  and  learniag. 

Chatterton,  however,  in  part  adopted  Mr.  Walpole 's  advice,  by  continuing  with  his  mafter  a 
full  twelvemonth  after  this  tranfa<tion;  but  without  applying  himfelf  to  the  duties  of  his  prafcfllon, 
as  i^vre  certain  tflsan^cf  attuning  the  iudepciujcace  ar.«l  lei&ure  «£  which  he,  was  deCrou? . 


THE   LIFE   OF   CHATTERTON.  3»j 

He  pail  his  hours  of  Icifure  in  rcfpectable  company ;  and  his  fitter  fays,  that  "  he  vifited  hi*  mo 
ther  regularly  moft  evenings  before  nine  o'clock,  and  they  were  feldom  two  evenings  together  witb.- 
eut  feeing  him." 

"  He  would  frequently,"  ftie  fays,  "  Walk  the  College  Green  with  the  young  girls,  that  ftatcdly 
paraded  there  to  (how  their  finery ;"  but  Ihe  is  perfuaded  that  the  reports  which  charged  bin*  whk  li- 
bertinifm,  are  ill-founded.  She  could  not  perhaps  have  added  a  better  proof  of  it,  than  his  inclina 
tion  to  form  ah  acquaintance  with  Mifs  Rmnfey,  a  young  female  in  the  neighbourhood,  apprehend 
ing  that  it  might  foften  that  autterity  of  temper,  which  had  refultcd  from  folitary  ftudy.  He  ad- 
drefled  a  poem  to  her,  and  they  commenced,  Mrs.  Newton  adds,  a  correfponding  acquaintance. 

Early  in  1769,  it  appears  from  a  poem  on  Happinefj,  addreffed  to  Mr.  Catcott,  that  he  had  imbibed 
the  principles  of  infidelity ;  one  of  the  effects  of  which  was,  to  render  the  idea  of  fnicide  familiar,  and 
to  difpofe  him  to  think  lightly  of  the  moft  facred  depofit  with  which  man  is  intrufted  by  his  Creator. 

The  progrefs,  however,  from  fpeculativc  to  practical  irreligion,  is  not  fo  rapid  as  is  commonly  fup- 
pofed.  The  grcatcft  advantage  of  a  ftrict  and  orderly  education,  is  the  refiftance  which  virtuous  ha 
bits,  early  acquired,  oppofe  to  the  allurements  of  vice. 

The  editor  of  his  Mifiellanitt  has  afierted,  that  his  "  profligacy  was  at  leaft  as  confpicucrus  as  hi» 
abilities;1'  but  he  has  rather  grounded  his  afiertion  on  the  apparently  profane  and  immoral  teadencj 
«f  fome  of  his  productions,  than  on  perfonal  knowledge,  or  a  correct  review  of  his  conduct. 

Of  few  young  men  in  his  fituation  it  can  be  faid,  that  during  a  courfe  of  nearly  three  years,  he  fel 
dom  encroached  upon  the  ftriet  limits  which  were  affigned  him,  with  refpect  to  his  hours  of  liberty ; 
that  his  mailer  could  never  accufe  him  of  improper  behaviour ;  and  that  he  had  the  utmoft  reaibn  t* 
be  i'atisfied  he  never  fpent  his  hours  in  any  but  refpectable  company. 

Mrs.  Newton,  with  that  nnaffected  firnplicity  which  fo  eminently  characterifes  her  letter,  raoft 
powerfully  controverts  the  obloquy  which  had  been  thrown  upon  her  brother's  memory. 

The  teftimony  of  Mr.  Thiftlethwaite  is  not  lefs  explicit  or  lefs  honourable  to  Chatterton.  "  Tltf 
.•pportunities,"  fays  he,  "  which  a  long  acquaintance  with  him  afforded  m«,  juftify  me  in  faying, 
that  while  he  lived  at  Briftol,  he  was  not  the  debauched  character  he  has  been  reprcfcnted.  Ten>- 
perate  in  his  living,  moderate  in  his  pleafures,  and  regular  in  his  exercifes,  he  was  undcferving  o£ 
the  afperfion.  I  admit,  that  among  his  papers  may  be  found  many  paflages,  not  only  immoral,  but 
bordering  upon  a  libertinifm  grofs  and  unpardonable.  It  is  not  my  intention  to  attempt  a  vindica 
tion  of  thefe  paflages,  which,  for  the  regard  I  bear  his  memory,  I  wifli  he  had  never  written ;  but 
which  I  nevcrthelefs  believe  to  have  originated,  rather  from  a  warmth  of  imagination,  aided  by  a  vaiu 
affectation  of  fingularity,  than  from  any  natural  depravity,  or  from  a  heart  vitiated  by  evil  example." 

But  though  it  may  not  be  the  effect  of  infidel  principles  to  plunge  the  ptrfon  who  becomes  un 
fortunately  infected  with  them  into  an  immediate  courfe  of  flagrant  and  fliamelcfs  depravity,  they 
feldom  fail  to  unhinge  the  mind,  and  render  it  the  fport  of  lomc  paflion  unfriendly  to  our  happinefc 
and  profperity. 

On  the  I4fh  of  April  1770,  he  wrote  a  paper,  intituled,  Tie  La/I  Itrill  and  Ttfament  of  Ttoauti  Clat- 
terton,  in  which  he  indicated  his  defign  of  committing  filicide  on  the  following  day.  The  paper  was 
probably  rather  the  refult  of  temporary  uncaCnefs,  than  of  that  fixed  averfion  to  his  fituation,  which 
he  conftantly  manifefted;  but  Mr.  Lambert  confidercd  it  as  no  longer  prudent,  after  fo  decifive  a 
proof,  to  continue  him  in  the  houfe  ;  he  accordingly  tfifmiiTed  him  immediately  from  his.fcrvice,  IB 
which  he  had  continued  two  years,  nine  months,  and  thirteen  days. 

The  activity  of  his  mind  during  this  flvort  period  is  almoft  unparalleled.  The  greateft  part  o£  his 
compofitions,  both  under  the  name  of  Rowley  and  his  own,  was  written  before  April  1770,  he  being 
then  aged  feveriteen  years  and  five  months  ;  and  of  the  former,  they  were  almoft  all  produced  a 
twelvemonth  earlier,  before  April  1769.  But  our  furprife  muft  decreafe,  when  we  confidcr  that  he 
flept  but  little,  and  that  his  whole  attention  was  directed  to  literary  purfuits. 

Encouraged  by  the  moft.  liberal  promifcs  of  afiiftance  and  employment  from  feveral  bookfcllers 
and  printers  in  London,  he  now  refolved  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  metropolis,  which  he  flattered  him- 
felf  would  afford  him  a  more  enlarged  field  for  the  fuccefsful  exercife  ana  difpky  of  his  abilities;  and 
he  entered  on  his  new  plan  of  h'fe  with  his  ufual  enthuCafm. 

"  I  interrogated  him,"  fays  Mr.  Thift'ethwaite, "  as  to  the  objea  of  his  views  and  expectations,  and 
what  mode  of  life  he  intended  to  purfue  on  his  arrival  in  London."  H,  anfwer  was  remarkable. 
u  My  firft  attempt,"  faid  he,  «  ihall  be  in  the  literary  way;  ti:  promifcs  I  fcavc  received  are  fu&- 


S«4  THE   LIFE    OF   CHATTERTON. 

cient  to  difpel  doubt ;  but  fhould  I,  contrary  to  my  expectation,  find  myfelf  deceived,  I  will,  in  that 
cafe,  turn  Metfaodift  preacher.  Credulity  is  as  potent  a  deity  as  ever  ;  and  a  new  fe<ft  may  eafily 
be  dcvifed.  But  if  that  too  fhould  fail  me,  my  laft  and  final  refource  is  a  piflol." 

Before  he  quitted  Briftol,  he  had  entered  deeply  into  politics,  and  had  embraced  the  patriotic 
party.  In  March  1770,  he  wrote  a  fatirical  poem,  called  Ketv  Gardens,  confifting  of  1300  lines,  a- 
gainft  the  Princefs  of  Wales,  Lord  Bute,  and  their  friends  in  London  and  Briftol  3  which  has  not 
been  printed.  He  wrote  alfo  another  political  fatire,  called  The  Whore  of  Babylon,  confifting  of  near 
600  lines,  which  is  in  the  poffeflion  of  a  friend  of  Mr.  Catcott ;  an  inve&ive  in  profe  againft  Bifhop 
Newton,  figned  Decimus :  and  an  indecent  fatirical  poem,  called  The  Exhibition,  occafioned  by  the 
improper  behaviour  of  a  perfon  in  Briftol.  Moft  of  the  furgeons  in  Briftol  are  delineated  in  it. 
Some  of-  the  ddcriptive  paflages  in  this  poem  have  great  merit.  Thus  fpeaking  of  a  favourite  or- 
ganift,  he  fays, 

He  keeps  the  pafllons  with  the  found  in  play, 

And  the  foul  trembles  with  the  trembling  key. 

In  the  latter  end  of  April  1770,  he  bade  his  native  city  a  final  adieu.  In  a  letter  to  his  mother, 
dated  April  zoth,  he  defcribes,  in  a  lively  ftyle,  the  little  adventures  of  his  journey,  and  his  reception 
from  his  patrons,  the  bookfellers  and  printers,  with  whom  he  had  correfponded,  Mr.  Edmunds,  Mr. 
Fell,  Mr.  Hamilton,  Mr.  Dodfley,  &c,  From  all  of  them  he  profefles  to  have  received  great  en 
couragement,  that  all  approved  of  his  defign,  and  that  he  fhould  probably  be  foon  fettled.  He  de- 
fires  his  mother  to  call  upon  Mr.  Lambert.  "  Show  him  this,"  fays  he,  with  •uncommon  dignity 
and  fpirit,  "  or  tell  him,  if  I  deferve  a  recommendation,  he  would  oblige  me  to  give  me  one ;  if  I  do 
not,  it  would  be  beneath  him  to  take  notice  of  me." 

His  firft  habitation,  after  his  arrival  in  London,  was  at  Mr.  Walmfley's,  a  plafterer  in  Shore- 
ditch,  to  whom  he  was  introduced  by  a  relation  of  his,  a  Mrs.  Ballance,  who  rcfided  in  the  fame 
boufc. 

Of  his  firft  eftablifnment  his  report  is  favourable.  "  I  am  fettled,"  fays  he,  in  a  letter  to  his  mo 
ther,  dated  May  6.  "  and  in  fuch  a  fettlement  as  J  could  defire.  I  get  four  guineas  a  month  by  one 
magazine,  and  fhall  engage  to  write  a  Hiftory  of  England,  and  other  pieces,  which  will  more  than 
double  that  fum.  Occafional  Eflays  for  the  daily  papers  will  more  than  fupport  me.  What  a  glo 
rious  profpect !" 

In  confequence  of  his  engagements  with  the  different  magazines,  we  find  him,  about  the  fame  time, 
foliciting  communications  from  his  poetical  and  literary  friends  at  Briftol,  and  defiring  them  to  read 
the  "  Freeholder's  Magazine." 

In  a  letter  dated  May  14,  he  wrkes  in  the  fame  high  flow  of  fpirits.  He  fpeaks  of  the  great  en 
couragement  which  genius  meets  with  in  London  ;  adding  with  exultation,  "  If  Rowley  had  been  a 
Londoner,  inftead  of  a  Briftowyan,  I  might  have  lived  by  copying  his  works;"  yet  it  does  not  ap 
pear  that  any  of  Rowley's  pieces,  except  the  Balade  of  Cbaritie,  were  exhibited  after  he  left  Briftol. 
He  exhorts  his  fifter  tb  "  improve  in  copying  mufic,  drawing,  and  every  thing  which  requires  ge 
nius,"  obferving,  that  although  in  Briftol's  mercantile  ftyle  thofe  things  may  be  ufelefs,  if  not  a  de 
triment  to  her,  here  they  are  very  profitable." 

His  engagements  at  that  period  appear  to  have  been  numerous ;  for,  befides  his  employment  in 
the  magazines,  he  fpeaks  of  a  connection  he  had  formed  with  a  dodtor  in  mufic,  to  write  fongs  for 
Ranelagh,  Vauxhall,  &c. ;  and,  in  a  letter  of  the  3Oth  to  his  fifter,  he  mentions  another  with  a  book- 
feller,  "  the  brother  of  a  lord,"  (a  Scotch  one  indeed,)  to  compile  a  voluminous  hiftory  of  London, 
to  appear  in  numbers,  for  which  he  was  to  have  his  board  at  the  bookfeller's  houfe,  and  a  handfome 
premium.  "  Afiure  yourfelf,"  he  adds,  "  every  month  fhall  end  to  your  advantage.  I  will  fend 
you  two  filks  this  fummer.  My  mother  fhall  not  be  forgotten." 

Party-writing,  however,  feems  to  have  been  one  of  his  favourite  employments.  It  was  agreeable 
to  the  fatirical  turn  of  his  difpofition,  and  it  gratified  his  vanity,  by  the  profpeft  of  elevating  him 
into  immediate  notice.  When  Mrs.  Ballance  recommended  it  to  him  to  endeavour  to  get  into  fome 
ofiice,  he  told  her,  "  he  hoped,  with  the  bleffing  of  God,  very  foon  to  be  fent  prifoner  to  the  Tower, 
•which  would  make  his  fortune."  : 

In  his  letter  to  his  mother,  May  6,  he  fays,  "  Mr.  Wilkes  knew  me  by  my  writings  Cnce  I  firft 
c«rrefponded  with  the  bookfellers  here.  1  fliall  vifit  him  next  week.  He  affirmed  that  what  Mr. 


THE   LIFE    OF   CHATTERTON.  305 

Fell  had  of  mine  could  not  he  the  writings  of  a  youth,  and  exprefled  a  defirc  to  know  the  author. 
By  means  of  another  bookfeller,  I  ihall  be  introduced  to  Townfend  and  Sawbridge.  I  am  quite  fa 
miliar  at  the  Chapter  coffeehoufe,  and  know  all  the  gerfiufes  there.  A  character  is  now  unneceffary; 
an  author  carries  his  character  in  his  pen." 

He  informs  his  filler,  that  if  money  flowed  as  faft  upon  him  as  honours,  he  wourd'give  her  a 
portion  of  five  thoufand  pounds.  This  extraordinary  elevation  of  fpirits  aroi'e  from  an  introduction 
to  the  celebrated  patriotic  Lord  Mayor,  Eeckford. 

Chatterton  had,  it  feems,  addrefll-d  an  effay  to  him,  which  was  fo  well  received,  that  it  encouraged 
him  to  wait  upon  his  Lordfhip,  in  order  to  obtain  his  approbation,  to  addrefs  a  fecond  letter  to  him, 
on  the  fubject  of  the  City  Remonftrance.  "  His  Lordihip,"  adds  he,  "  received  me  as  politely  as 
<t  citizen  could,  and  warmly  invited  me  to  call  upon  him  again.  The  reft  is  a  fecret." 

His  inclinatton,  doubtlefs,  led  him  to  efpoufe  the  party  of  Oppofition;  but  he  complains  that  "  n« 
money  is  to  be  got  on  that  fide  of  the  queftion  ;  intereft  is  on  the  other  fide  ;  but  he  is  a  poor  author 
who  cannot  write  on  both  fides.  I  believe  I  may  be  introduced  (or  if  I  am  not,  I'll  introduce  my- 
feif)  to  a  ruling  power  in  the  Court  party." 

When  Beckford  died,  he  is  faid  to  have  been  almoft  frantic,  and  to  have  exclaimed  that  he  wa» 
ruined.  He  folaced  his  grief,  by  writing  an  Elegy  on  his  death,  which  contains  more  of  frigid 
praife  than  ardent  feeling. 

Indeed,  that  he  was  ferious  in  his  intention  of  writing  on  both  fides,  and  that  he  "  alternately 
flattered  and  fatirized  all  ranks  and  parties,"  is  evident  from  the  following  lift  of  pieces,  written  by 
him,  but  never  publifhed,  which  I,ord  Orford  has  preferved. 

"  The  Flight :  addrefTed  to  Lord  Bute.  In  forty  ftanzas  of  fix  lines  each.  Thus  indorfed  :  c  Too 
long  for  the  Political  Regifter— Curtailed  in  the  digrefiions — Given  to  Mr.  Mortimer.'  Keiv  Gar 
dens—A,  fatirical  rhapfody  of  fome  hundred  lines  in  Churchill's  manner,  againft  perfons  in  power. 
The  Dowager,  a  Tragedy.,— Unfiniflied — only  two  fcenes.  Verfes  addrejfed  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Catcott,  on. 
bis  Book  on  the  Deluge  :  ridiculing  his  fyftem  and  notions. — [iiiferted  in  the  fupplemtnt  to  Chattel  tons  Mif- 
cellanies.]  To  a  great  Lady.  A  very  fcandalous  addrefs,  figned  Dcclmtu.  On  the  back  of  this  is 
written,  '  (Jeremiah  Dyfon,  Efq.  by  the  Whifperer,  IDS,  6d.  a  column).'  To  C.  Jenkinfon,  Efq, 
an  abufive  letter,  figned  Decimus  (or  Prolus,  as  it  mould  feem  from  the  indorfement)  :  beginning 
thus :  '  Sir,  As  the  nation  has  been  long  in  the  dark  in  conjecturing  the  minifterial  agf  nt,  &c.'  To 
Lord  Mansfield,  A  very  abufive  letter,  figned  Delimits  (or  JEnencnius,  as  it  fhould  feem  from  the 

indorfement):  beginning  thus: '  My  Lord,  I  am  not  going  to  accufc  you  of  pufillanimity,'  &s. 

In  this  piece  many  paragraphs  are  cancelled,  with  this  remark  on  the  margin :  «  Profecution  will 
lie  upon  this.'  An  Inintiu&ory  Effay  to  a  political  paper,  fet  up  by  him,  called  the  Moderator,  in 
favour  of  adminiftration  :  thus  beginning,  '  To  enter  into  a  detail  of  the  reafons  which  induced  me 
to  take  up  the  title  of  this  paper,'  &c,  To  Lard  North ;  a  letter  figned  the  Moderator,  and  dated 
May  26.  1770:  beginning  thus : — *-~'  My  Lord,  It  gives  me  a  painful  pleafure,"  &c.  This  is  an 
encomium  on  adminiftration  for  rejecting  the  Lord  Mayor  Beckford's  Remonftrance.  A  Letter  to  the 
Lord  Mayor  Bedford^  figned  Prolns ;  dated  May  26.  1770. — This  is  a  violent  abufe  of  government 
for  rejecting  the  Remonftrance,  and  begins  thus;  '  Whep  the  endeavours  of  a  fpirited  people  to  free 
themfelves  from  an  unfupportabk  flavery." — On  the  back  of  this  eflay,  which  is  directed  to  Gary, 
[a  particular  friend  of  Chatterton  in  Briftol,]  is  this  indorfement :  '  Accepted  by  Bingley,  fet  for  and 
thrown  out  of  the  North  Briton,  aift  June,  on  account  of  the  Lord  Mayor's  death. 

'  Loft  by  his  death,  on  this  effay,  »  •  £.  I   II     6 

*  Gained  in  Elegies,  -  -  -•»  •  «•  a     a    o 

'  in  EfTays,  -  3     S     ° 

'  Am  glad  he  is  dead  by  .  „  -  -  -  3  13     6 

"  Eflays,"  he  fays  to  his  fifter,  "  on  the  patriotic   fide,   fetch   no  more    than   what   the  copy 
is  fold  for.     On  the  other  hand,  unpopular  eflays  will  not  even  be  accepted,  and  you  muft  pay  to 
have  them  printed,  but  then  you  leldom  lofe  by  it.     Courtiers  are  fo  fenfible  of  their  deficiency  i* 
merit,  that  they  generally  reward  all  who  know  how  to  daub  them  with  an  appearance  of  it.v* 
Vol..  XI.  U 


306  THE   LIFE   OF   CHATTERTON. 

On  this  fandy  foundation  of  party  writing,  Chatterton  ere&ed  a  vifionary  fabric  of  future  great- 

nefs.    It  was  a   common  afiertion  with  him,  "  that  he  would  fettle  the  world  before  he  had 

done." 

In  a  letter  to  his  fifter,  July  20.  he  tells  her,  "  My  company  is  courted  every  where ;  and  could 

I  humble  myfclf  to  go  into  a  Compter,  could  have  had  twenty  places  before  now ;  but  I  muft  be 

among  the  great ;  ftate  matters  fuit  me  much  better  than  commercial." 

His  tafte  for  diflipation  feems  to  have  kept  pace  with  the  increafe  of  his  vanity.    To  frequent 

places  of  public  amufement,  he  accounts  as  neceffary  to  him  as  food.    "  1  employ  my  money,"  fays 

he,  "  now,  in  fitting  myfelf  fafhionably,  and  getting  into  good  company ;  this  laft  article  always 

brings  me  in  intereft." 

In  the  letter  to  his  mother,  May  14.  he  fays,  "  a  gentleman  who  knows1  me  at  the  Chapter,  as 

an  author,  would  have  introduced  me  as  a  companion  to  the  young  Duke  of  Northumberland,  in 

his  intended  general  tour ;  but  alas !  1  fpeak  no  language  but  my  own."    It  is  not  very  credible  that 

he  was  likely  to  be  accepted  on  fo  flender  a  ground  of  recommendation. 

But  his  fplendid  vifions  of  promotion  and  confequence  foon  vanifhed.  Not  long  after  his  arrival 
in  London,  he  writes  to  his  mother,  "  The  poverty  of  authors  is  a  common  obfervation,  but  no: 
always  a  true  one.  No  author  can  be  poor  who  underftands  the  arts  of  bookfellers ;  without  this 
neceffkry. knowledge,  the  greatcft  genius  may  ftarve,  and  with  it  the  greateft  dunce  may  live  in 
fplendor.  This  knowledge  I  have  pretty  much  dipped  into." 

This  knowledge,  however,  inftead  of  conducting  to  opulence  and  independence,  proved  a  delufife 
guide ;  and  though  he  boafts  of  having  pieces  in  the  month  of  June  1770,  in  the  "  Gofpel  Maga 
zine,"  the  "  T«wn  and  Country,"  the  "  Court  and  City,"  the  "  London,"  the  "  Political  Regi- 
fter,"  &c.,  and  that  almoft  the  whole  "  Town  and  Country"  for  July  was  his;  yet  it  appears,  fo 
fcanty  is  the  remuneration  for  thofe  periodical  labours,  that  even  thefe  uncommon  eiertiens  of  in- 
duftry  and  genius  were  infufficient  to  ward  off  the  approach  of  poverty ;  and  he  feems  to  have  funk 
at  once  from  the  higheft  elevation  of  hope  and  illufion,  to  the  depths  of  defpair. 

Early  in  June,  he  removed  his  lodgings  from  Shore-ditch,  to  Mrs.  Angel's,  fackmaker  in  Brook- 
fhx-et,  Holborn.  Mr.  Croft  attributes  the  change  to  the  neceflity  he  was  under,  from  the  nature  of 
his  employments,  of  frequenting  public  places.  It  is  probable  that  he  might  remove,  left  Mr.  Walm- 
fley's  family,  who  had  heard  his  frequent  boafts,  and  obferved  his  dreams  of  greatnefs,  fhould  be 
the  fpe&ators  of  his  approaching  indigence.  Pride  was  the  ruling  paflion  of  Chatterton  ;  and  a  toa 
ai_-i!tc  fenfe  of  fhame,  is  ever  found  to  accompany  literary  pride. 

But  however  defirous  he  might  be  of  preferving  appearances  to  the  world,  he  was  fufikicntly 
lowered  in  his  own  expectations ;  when  we  find  his  towering  ambition  reduced  to  the  miferable  hope 
of  fecuring  the  very  inelegible  appointment  of  a  furgeon's  mate  to  Africa. 

His  refolution  was  announced  in  a  poem  to  Mifs  Bufh.  Probably,  indeed,  when  he  wrote  the 
African  Edoguej,  which  was  juft  before,  he  might  not  be  without  a  diftant  contemplation  of  a  fimi- 
lar  defign  ;  and  perhaps  we  are  to  attribute  a  part  of  the  exulting  expreflions  which  occur  in  the  let 
ter  to  his  mother  and  fifter,  to  the  kind  and  laudable  intention  of  making  them  happy,  with  refpe<ft 
to  his  profpedts  in  life,  fince  we  find  him,  almoft  at  the  very  crifis  of  his  diftrefs,  fending  a  number 
of  little  unnecefTary  prefents  to  them  and  his  grandmother,  while,  perhaps,  he  was  himfelf  almoft  in 
want  of  the  necefTaries  of  life. 

He  applied,  in  his  diftrefs,  to  Mr.  Barrett,  for  a  recommendation  to  this  unpromifing  ftation.  On 
the  fcore  of  incapacity  probably,  Mr.  Barrett  refufed  him  the  neceflary  recommendation,  and  his 
laft  hope  was  blafted. 

Of  Mrs.  Angel,  with  whom  he  laft  refided,  no  inquiries  have  afforded  any  fatisfaclory  intelligence  ; 
but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  his  death  was  preceded  by  extreme  indigence. 

Mr.  Crofs,  an  apothecary  in  Brook-ftreet,  informed  Mr.  Warton,  that  when  Chatterton  lived  In 
the  neighbourhood,  he  frequently  called  at  the  fhop,  and  was  repeatedly  prefled  by  Mr.  Crofs  to  dine 
or  fup  with  him,  in  vain.  One  evening,  however,  human  frailty  fo  far  prevailed  over  his  dignity,  as 
to  tempt  him  to  partake  of  the  regale  of  a  barrel  of  oyfters,  when  he  was  obferved  to  eat  moft  vo- 
racioufly. 

Mrs.  Wolfe,  a  barber's  wife,  within  a  few  doors  of  the  houfe  where  Mrs.  Angel  lived,  has  alfo  af 
forded  ample  teftimony,  both  to  his  poverty  and  his  pride.  She  fays,  "  that  Mrs.  Angel  told  her 


THE  LIFE   OF   CHATTERTON.  307 

after  his  death,  that  on  the  24th  of  Augufl,  as  (he  knew  he  had  not  eaten  any  thing  for  two  or  three 
days,  flic  begged  he  .would  take  fome  dinner  with  her ;  but  he  was  offended  at  her  cxprcfljpns,  which 
feemcd  to  hint  that  he  was  in  want,  and  affured  her  he  was  not  hungry." 

"  Over  his  death,  for  the  fake  of  humanity,"  fays  Mr,  Croft,  "  I  would  willingly  draw  a  veil. 
But  this  muft  not  be.  They  who  are  in  a  condition  to  patronife  merit,  and  they  who  feel  a  confci- 
oufnefs  of  merit  which  is  not  patronifed,  may  form  their  own  refolutions  from  the  cataftrophe  of 
his  tale ; — thofe  to  lofe  no  opportunity  of  befriending  genius ;  thefe  to  feize  every  opportunity  of 
befriending  chemfelves,  and  upon  no  account  to  harbour  the  mod  diftant  idea  of  quitting  this  world, 
however  it  may  be  unworthy  of  them,  left  defpondency  fhould  at  laft  deceive  them  into  fo  unpar 
donable  a  ftep.'' 

Chatterton,  as  appears  by  the  Coroner's  inqueft,  fwallowed  arfenic  in  water,  on  the  24th  of 
Auguft  17/0,  and  died  in  confequence  thereof,  the  next  day,  at  the  age  of  feventeen  years  and 
nine  months.  He  was  buried  in  a  fhell  in  the  burying-ground  of  Shoe-lane  work-houfe. 

Whatever  unfinifhed  pieces  he  might  have,  he  cautioufly  deftroyed  them  before  his  death ;  and  his 
room,  when  broken  open,  was  found  covered  with  little  fcraps  of  paper. 

What  muft  increafe  our  regret  for  this  hafty  and  unhappy  ftep,  is  the  information  that  the  late 
Dr.  Fry,  head  of  St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  went  to  Briftol,  to  fearch  into  the  hiftory  of  RowleyH 
and  Chatterton,  and  to  patronife  the  latter,  if  he  appeared  to  deferve  afliftance.     When,  alas !  all 
the  intelligence  he  could  procure,  was,  that  Chatterton  had,  within  a  few  days,  deftroyed  him- 
fclf. 

The  poems  produced  by  Chatterton,  at  different  times,  under  the  names  of  Rowley,  Canynge,  &c. 
were  purchafed  from  Mr.  Catcott  and  Mr.  Barrett,  and  publiihed  by  Thomas  Tyrwhitt,  Efq.  the 
karned  editor  of  Chaucer,  in  an  octavo  volume,  1777,  with"  a  Preface,  Introduction,  and  Gloflary." 
Mr.  Tyrwhitt  added  to  the  edition  1778,  an  "  Appendix,  containing  fome  Obfervations  upon  the 
Language  of  the  Poems,  tending  to  prove,  that  they  were  written,  not  by  any  ancient  author,  but 
entirely  by  Chatterton."  A  very  fplendid  edition  was  publiihed  in  quarto,  1782,  by  Jeremiah 
Milles,  D.  D.  Dean  of  Exeter,  and  Prefident  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  with  "  a  Preliminary 
Diffcrtation  and  Commentary,"  tending  to  prove,  that  the  poems  were  really  written  by  Rowley  and 
others,  in  the  fifteenth  century.  His  Mifcellanics  in  Profc  and  Verfc,  collected  from  the  Magazines, 
&c.  with  a  fketch  for  Beckford's  ftatue,  a  fpecimen  of  his  abilities  in  the  arts  of  drawing  and  de- 
fign,  were  publifhed  in  octavo,  1778,  with  a  preface,  figned  J.  B.  dated  Briftol,  June  2O. ;  and  this 
publication  was  followed  by  a  Supplement  to  tb:  Mifcellanies  of  Cbatterton>  8vo,  1786.  Befldcs  thefe, 
there  are  many  unpublifhed  poems  in  the  hands  of  his  friends,  and  feventeen  hiftorical  profe  com- 
pofitions  and  drawings,  in  the  pofleflion  of  Mr.  Barrett.  His  poems,  reprinted  from  Tyrwhitt's  edi 
tion,  1777,  the  Mifcellanies,  1778  and  1786,  Croft's  "  Love  and  Madnefs,"  1780,  are  now,  for  the 
firft  time,  received  into  a  collection  of  claffical  Englifh  poetry. 

The  celebrated  "  Archaeological  Epiftle  to  Dr.  Milles,"  410,  1782,  fuppofed  to  be  written  by 
Mafon  ;  a  beautiful  "  Monody  to  the  Memory  of  Chatterton,"  written  by  Mrs.  Cowley ;  a  "  Son 
net  to  Expreffion,"  from  the  polifhed  and  pathetic  pen  of  Mifs  Helen  Maria  Williams ;  an  irregular 
"  Ode,"  from  "  Rowiley  and  Chatterton  in  the  Shades,"  8vo,  1782  ;  and  an  elegant  offering  to  the 
genius  of  Chatterton,  from  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  1782  ; — are  inferted  in  this  edition,  with 
the  double  view  of  adorning  the  collection,  and  of  gratifying  the  reader.- 

His  character,  compounded  of  good  qualities  and  defects,  may  be  eafily  collected  from  this  account 
of  his  life.  A  few  of  his  peculiarities  remain  to  be  mentioned.  His  perfon,  like  his  genius,  was 
premature :  he  had  a  manlincfs  and  dignity  beyond  his  years,  and  there  was  fomething  about  him 
uncommonly  prepoffeffing.  His  moft  remarkable  feature  was  his  eyes,  which,  though  gray,  were 
uncommonly  piercing.  When  he  was  warmed  in  argument,  or  otherwife,  they  fparkled  with  fire ; 
and  one  eye,  it  is  faid,  was  ftill  more  remarkable  than  the  other.  He  had  an  uncommon  ardour  in 
the  purfuit  of  knowledge,  and  uncommon  facility  in  the  attainment  of  it.  It  was  a  favourite  maxim 
with  him,  that  "  man  is  equal  t«  any  thing,  and  that  every  thing  might  be  atchieved  by  diligence 
and  abftinence."  If  any  uncommon  character  was  mentioned  in  his  hearing,  "  all  boy  as  he  was," 
fays  Mr.  Croft,  "  he  would  only  obferve,  that  the  perfon  in  queftion  merited  praife ;  but  that  God 
had  fent  his  creatures  into  the  world  with  arms  long  enough  to  reach  any  thing,  if  they  would  be  a 

Uij 


jeS  THE   LIFE   QF   CHATTERTON. 

the  trouble  of  extending  them."  "  He  had  read,"  he  himfeif  tells  us,  "  more  than  Magliabechi, 
though  he  fpqke  no  tongue  but  his  own."  He  probably  might  have  acquired  fome  knowledge  of 
the  Latin,  Greek,  and  French  languages;  but  it  cannot  be  fuppofed  to  have  been  very  extenfive. 

When  we  confider  the  variety  of  his  engagements  while  at  Briftol,  his  extenfive  reading,  and  the 
great  knowledge  he  had  acquired  of  the  ancient  language  of  his  native  country,  we  cannot  wonder 
that  he  had  not  time  to  occupy  himfeif  in  die  ftudy  of  other  languages ;  and  aiter  his  arrival  in  Lon 
don,  he  had  a  new  and  neceflary  fcience  to  learn,  the  world;  and  that  he  n-.ade  the  mod  advanta 
geous  ufe  of  his  time,  is  evident  from  the  extenfive  knowledge  of  mankind,  difplayed  in  the  dif 
ferent  eflays  which  he  produced  in  the  periodical  publications.  His  lively  and  vigorous  imagination 
contributed,  doubtlefs,  to  animate  him  with  that  fpirit  of  enterprife,  which  led  him  to  form  fo  ma-r 
ny  impracticable  and  vifionary  fchemes,  for  the  acquifition  of  fame  and  fortune.  His  ambition  was 
evident  from  his  earlieft  youth;  and  perhaps  the  inequality  of  his  fpirits  might,  in  a  great  meafure, 
depend  upon  the  fairnefs  of  his  views,  or  the  difiipation  of  his  project?.  Mr.  Catcott  left  him  che 
evening  totally  depreffed ;  but  he  returned  the  next  morning  with  unufual  fpirits.  He  faid,  "  he 
had  fprung  a  mine,"  and  produced  the  Sprites,  a  poem,  in  the  pofTeffion  of  Mr.  Barrett.  His  natu 
ral  melancholy  was  not  corrected  by  the  irreligious  principles  which  he  had  fo  unfortunately  im 
bibed.  But  he  is  not  convicted  of  any  immoral  or  difhoncft  act  in  confequence  of  his  fpeculative 
opinions.  The  prefervatives  of  which  he  was  poffelLd  again!!  the  contagion  of  vice,  and  the  cri 
minal  exceffes  of  the  pafiions,  were  the  pride  of  genius,  the  enthufiafm  of  literature,  and  that  deli 
cacy  of  fentiment  which  tafle  and  reading  infpire.  To  the  regularity  of^his  conduct  during  his  re- 
fidence  at  Briftol,  feme  refpectable  teftimonics  have  been  already  exhibited.  After  his  arrival  in 
London,  there  are  fome  proofs  in  his  favour,  which  ought  not  to  be  difrcgarded.  During  a  refi- 
dence  of  nine  weeks  at  Mr.  \Valmfley 's,  he  never  ftaid  out  beyond  the  family  hours,  except  one 
night,  when  Mrs.  Ballance  knew  that  he  lodged  in  the  houfe  of  a  relation. 

The  lift  of  his  virtues  appears  to  exceed  the  catalogue  of  his  faults.  His  temperance  was  in  forn? 
refpects  exemplary.  He  ieldom  eat  animal  food,  and  never  tailed  any  fbrong  or  fpiritous  liquors. 
He  lived  chiefly  on  a  morfel  of  bread  or  a  tart,  with  a  draught  of  water.  His  high  fenfe  of  digni 
ty  has  been  already  noticed.  But  the  mod  amiable  feature  in  his  character,  was  his  generofity  and 
attachment  to  his  mother  and  relations.  Every  fortunate  project  for  his  advancement  in  life  was 
accompanied  with  promifes  and  encouragement  to  them  :  while  in  London  he  continued  to  fend 
them  prefents,  at  a  time  when  he  was  known  himfeif  to  be  in  want :  and  indeed  the  unremitting 
attention,  kindnefs,  and  refpect,  which  appear  in  the  whole  of  his  conduct  towards  them,  are  de- 
ferving  the  imitation  of  perlbns  in  more  fortunate  circumftances.  It  can  never  be  fufficiently  la 
mented  that  this  amiable  principle  was  not  more  uniform  in  Chatterton.  A  real  love  for  his  rela 
tions  ought  to  have  arrefted  the  hand  of  fuicids  ;  but  when  religion  is  loft,  all  uniformity  of  prin 
ciple  is  loft. 

He  had  a  number  of  friends ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  difpofuion  to  fatire,  is  fcarcely  known  to 
have  had  any  enemies.  By  the  accounts  of  all  who  were  acquainted  with  him,  there  was  fomething 
uncommonly  infinuating  in  his  manner  and  converfation.  Mr.  Crofs  informed  Mr.  Warton,  that 
in  Chatterton's  frequent  vifits,  while  he  refided  in  Brook-ffreet,  he  found  his  converfation,  a  little 
infidelity  excepted,  moft  captivating.  His  extenfive,  though  in  many  inftances,  fuperficial  know 
ledge,  united  with  his  genius,  wit,  and  fluency,  muft  have  admirably  accompliflied  him  for  the  plea- 
fures  of  fociety.  His  pride,  which  perhaps  fhould  rather  be  termed  the  ilrong  confcioufnefs  of  in 
tellectual  excellence1,  did  not  deftroy  his  affability.  He  was  always  acceffiblc,  and  rather  forward  to 
make  acquaintance,  than  apt  to  decline  the  advances  of  others.  There  is  reafon,  however,  to  be 
lieve,  that  the  inequality ;  of  his  fpirits  affected  greatly  bis  behaviour  in  company.  His  fits  of  ab- 
fence  were  frequent  and  long.  He  would  often  look  ftedfaftly  in  a  perfon's  face  without  fpeaking, 
or  feeming  to  fee  the  perfon  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  more.  Mr.  Walmfley's  nephew  (Chatter- 
ton's  bedfellow  during  che  laft  fix  weeks  he  lodged  .there)  told  Mr.  Croft,  that,  notwhhftanding  his 
pride  and  liaughtinefs,  it  was  impoffible  to  help  liking  him ;— that,  to  his  knowledge,  lie  never  flept 
while  they  lay  together;  that  he  never  came  to  bed  till  very  late,  fometimes  three  or  four  o'clock 
and  was  always  awake  when  he  (the  nephew)  awaked,  and  got  up  at  the  fame  time,  about  five 
fix ;  and  that  almoft  every  morning  the  floor  was  covered  with  pieces  of  paper,  not  fo  big  as  . 
pence*,  into  which  he  had  torn  what  he  had  been  writing  before  he  came  to  bed. 


THE  LIFE   OF  CHATTERTON.  30, 

He  had  one  ruling  paflion  which  governed  his  whole  conduct,  and  that  was  his  defire  of  literary 
fame  ,  this  paflion  intrude^  itfelf  on  every  occafion,  and  abforbed  his  whole  attention.  Whether  he 
would  have  «ontinued  to  improve,  or  the  contrary,  muft  have  depended,  in  fome  meafure,  on  the 
circumftances  of  his  future  life.  Had  he  fallen  into  profligate  habits  and  connections,  he  would 
probably  have  loft  a  great  part  of  his  ardour  for  ftudy,  and  his  maturer  age  would  only  have  dimi- 
nifhed  the  admiration,  which  the  efforts  of  his  childhood  have  fo  juftly  excited. 

As  a  poet,  his  genius  will  be  moft  completely  eilimated  by  his  writings.  His  imagination  was 
more  fertile  than  correct  ;  and  he  feems  to  have  erred,  rather  through  hafte  and  negligence  than 
through  any  deficiency  of  tafte.  He  was  above  that  puerile  affectation  which  pretends  to  borrow 
nothing.  He  knew  that  original  genius  confifts  in  forming  new  and  happy  combinations,  rather 
than  in  fetching  after  thoughts  and  ideas  which  never  had  occurred  before.  He  poffeffed  the 
ftrongeft  marks  of  a  vigorous  imagination,  and  a  found  judgment  in  forming  great,  confident,  and 
ingenious  plots,  and  in  making  choice  of  the  moft  interefting  fubjects.  His  genius,  like  Dryden's, 
was  univerfal.  It  will  be  difficult  to  fay,  whether  he  excelled  moft  in  the  fublime,  the  pathetic,  the 
defcriptive,  or  the  fatirical.  Whatever  fubjeft  is  treated  by  him,  is  marked  with  the  hand  of  a  maf- 
ter,  with  the  enthufiafm  of  the  poet,  and  the  judgment  of  the^eritic. 

His  poems  abound  with  luxuriant  defcription,  vivid  imagery,  and  ftriking  metaphors.  Through 
the  veil  of  ancient  language,  a  happy  adaptation  of  words  is  ftill  apparent,  and  a  ftyle  both  energetic 
and  expreflive.  They  are  equally  confpicuous  for  the  harmony  and  elegance  of  the  verfe  ;  and  fome 
paffages  are  inferior,  in  none  of  the  effentials  of  poetry,  to  the  moft  finiflied  productions  in  our  lan 
guage. 

It  muft  not,  however,  be  diffembled,  that  fome  part  of  the  charm  of  his  compofitions  may  proba 
bly  refult  from  the  Gothic  fublimity  of  the  ftyle.  We  gaze  with  wonder  on  an  antique  fabric  ; 
and,  when  novelty  of  thought  is  not  to  be  obtained,  the  novelty  of  the  language,  to  which  we  are 
wnaccuftomed,  is  frequently  accepted  as  a  fubftitute.  Even  Shakfpeare  and  Milton  have  derived 
advantages  from  the  antique  ftructure  of  fome  of  their  moft  admired  paffages.  The  facility  of 
compofition  is  alfo  greatly  increafed,  where  full  latitude  is  permitted  in  the  ufe  of  an  obfolete  dia 
led,  fmcc  an  author  is  indulged  in  the  occafional  ufe  of  both  the  old  and  the  modern  phrafeology  ; 
and  if  the  one  does  not  fupp'y  him  with  the  word  for  which  he  has  immediate  occafion,  the  other, 
in  all  probability,  will  not  difappoint  him.  Thus,  in  the  Soage  to  JElla,  the  poet  had  in  one  line 

written, 

Beefprengedd  all  the  meet  with  gore. 

In  a  fubfequent  ftanza  he  writes, 

Orr  feeft  the  hatchedd  ftede 
Ypiaunceying  oer  the  mead. 

Meet  being  the  ancient  word,  and  mead  the  modern  Englifh  one,  he  thought  himfelf  at  liberty  to 
•write  modern  Englifli  whenever  rhyme  required  him  to  do  fo.  The  ufe  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  prefix 
y,  as  yprauncing,  for  frouncing,  enables  him  to  write  a  fmooth  line  in  any  given  number  of  fyllables. 
The  imagery  and  metaphors  in  this  Ayle  of  poetry,  are  frequently  very  common-place,  and  it  is 
poflible  to  labour  through  feveral  ftanzas,  without  finding  any  ftriking  beauty,  when  the  attention 
of  the  reader  is  kept  alive  by  the  fubjcct  alone.  Many  defects  of  ftyle,  and  many  paffages  of  rant 
and  bombaft,  aic  concealed  or  excufed  by  the  appearance  of  antiquity. 

The  piece  of  moft  confpicuous  merit  among  the  eompofitions  of  Chatterton,  is  JElla,  a  Tragical 
Enterlude ;  which  is  a  moft  complete  and  well-written  tragedy,  upon  the  model  of  Mafon's  '•  El- 
frida"  and  "  Caractacus."  The  plot  is  both  :intereft ing  and  full  of  variety,  though  the  dialogue  is 
in  fome  places  tedious.  The  character  of  Celmondc  reminds  us  of  Gler.alvon  in  "  Douglas,"  but  is 
better  drawn.  His  foliloquy  is  beautiful  and  characteriftic.  The  firft  chorus,  or  Mynf  relies  Surge,  is 
a  perfect  paftoral.  It  contains  a  complete  plot  or  fable,  and  abounds  in  poetical  and  tender  fentiments, 
and  appofite  imagery.  Thomfon's  Mafque  of  "  Alfred"  probably  fuggefted  the  idea  of  a  Danifti 
flory.  For  converting  HvLka  into  Hurra,  he  might  have  his  reafons.  The  raven  Jlandard  of  the 
Danes,  to  which  he  alludes,  is  poetically  dcfcribed  by  Thomfon. 

The  imperfect  tragedy  of  Goddtcyn,  as  well  as  JElla,  is  indebted  to  the  Grecian  fchool,  revived 
in  the  eighteenth  century.  Both  are  the  effufions  of  a  young  mind,  warm  from  ftudying  "  Elfrida" 
and  "  Caractacus."  The  beauties  of  poetry  are  fcattered  through  them  with  no  fparing  hand.  The 
fine  cde  or  ckorus  in  GaMwyn,  rivals,  if  not  exceeds  any  thing  of  that  kind  we  have  in  Mafon,  or 

U  iij 


3io  THE  LIFE   OF   CHAT  TEUTON. 

even  in  Gray  or  Collins,    In  the  animated  portrait  of  Freedom,  and  the  group  of  her  attendants,  Af- 

frigbt,  Power,  War,  Envv,  &c.  both  Sackville  and  Spenfer  muft  yield  the  palm  of  allegoric  poetry. 

When  Freedome  drcfte  in  blodde-fteyned  veftx1, 

To  every  knyghte  her  warre  fonge  funge  ; 
Uponne  herhedtte  wylde  wedes  were  fprede; 

A  gorie  aulafe  bye  her  hunge, 

She  daunced  onne  the  heathe, 

She  heard  the  voice  of  deathe ; 
Pale-eyned  affryghte,  his  harte  of  fylver  hue, 
In  vayne  affayled  her  bofomme  to  acale  ; 
She  hearde  onflemcd  the  fhriekinge  voice  of  woe, 
And  fadnefle  in  the  owlette  fhake  the  dale. 

She  Jhooke  the  burled  fpeere, 

On  hie  fhe  jefte  her  fheelde, 

Her  foemen  all  appere, 

And  fiizze  along  the  feelde,  &c. 

The  Firjl  fart  of  the  Battli  of  Ha/lings,  which  he  confefled  be  lad  -.vriiten  limfelf,  when  he  was 
taken  by  furprife,  though  at  other  times  he  preferved  a  degree  of  confiftcnce  in  his  falfehood,  con 
tains  an  unvaried  recital  of-wounds  and  deaths,  with  little  to  intereft  curiofity,  or  engage  the  tender 
paflions,  and  but  few  of  the  beauties  of  poetry  to  relieve  the  mind  from  the  difgufling  fubjeft.  In 
the  Second  Part,  with  the  fame  faults,  there  is  more  of  poetical  defcription,  more  of  nature,  more  of 
character.  The  imagery  is  more  animated  ;  the  incidents  more  varied.  The  character  of  Tancar- 
•ville  is  well  drawn ;  and  the  fpirit  of  candour  and  humanity  which  pervades  it,  is  unparalleled  in 
aay  writer  before  the  age  of  Shakfpeare.  The  whole  epifode  of  Girlba  is  well  conducted ;  and  the 
altercation  between  him  and  his  brother  Hartld  is  intercfting.  The  following  defcription  of  morn 
ing  is  exquifitely  beautiful,  and  the  verfification  mufical  and  pleafing.  The  eight  line  is  a  finking 
imitation  of  a  Ijne  of  Milton's ;  "  Scatters  the  rear  of  darknefs  thin." 

And  now  the  greie-eyd  morne  with  vi'lets  dreft, 
Shakyng  the  dewdrops  on  the  flourie  meedes, 
Fled  with  her  rofie  radiance  to  the  weft  : 
Forth  from  the  eafterrie  gatte  the  fierie  fteedes 
Of  the  bright  funne  awaytynge  fpirits  lecdf: 
The  funne,  in  fierie  pompc  cnthrond  on  hie,  •  - 
Swyfter  than  thoughte  alonge  hys  jerne  gledes, 
Andfcatlers  nygbtes  remaynes  from  oute  the  fkie  ; 
He  fawe  the  armies  make  for  bloudic  fraie, 
And  flopt  his  driving  fteedes,  and  hid  his  lyghtfome  rave, 

The  defcription  of  Salijbury  Plain  is  pi<flurefque  and  animated.  In  that  part  of  it  which  relates  to 
the  worfhip  of  the  ancient  Brutcns,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  propofes  to  fabftitute  <vyclime,s  for  -vyflualle,  an  in 
genious,  but  perhaps  unneccitary  emendation.  The  ftanza  of  Prior  was  his  model  for  verfification, 
in  this  poem,  as  well  as  the  Tournament,  &c.  The  origin  and  ufe  of  Stone/strive,  he  might  find  in  mo 
dern  work?.  Though  he  could  have  na  accefs  to  Malmefbury,  and  other  Latin  chroniclers,  he 
might  take  many  particulars  from  Hollinfhed,  who  has  tranflated  them.  The  names  of  the  Norman 
warriors  he  might  find  in  Fuller's  "  Church  Hiftory."  He  had  but  few  Saxon  names  to  which  he 
might  refer ;  of  the  Normans,  he  had  a  lift  of  eight  hundred.  He  borrowed  his  Homeric  images 
from  the  verfions  of  Chapman  and  Pope,  in  the  latter  of  which  he  found  thefe  allufions  dreffed  out 
in  all  the  fplendid  ornaments  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  prolix  circumftantial  cornparifon,  which 
did  not  exift  in  the  fifteenth  century,  but  was  imported  into  our  poetry  by  Spenfer,  affords  a  proof, 
excluding  all  impofition,  that  the  Battle  of  Ha/tings  is  the  forgery  of  Chatterton. 

The  interlude  of  the  Tournament  has  fome  beautiful  and  nervous  lines  ;  particularly  the  defcription 
of  BatU-yle  and  Pleafure,  in  the  chorus  of  Minjlrclles,  that  .opens  with — Wltn  Bnttaylc,  mejlhynge,  &c. 
Compare  this  with  Collins's"  Ode  to  Mercy,"  and  the  marks  of  imitation  will  be  fufiSciently  evident. 

The  Srt/lowe  Tragedy,  or  the  Dethe  of  Syr  Claries  Batvd'tn,  has  little  but  its  pathetic  fimplicity  to 
recommend  it.  It  has  nothing  ingenious  in  the  plot,  or  ftriking  in  the  execution.  It  is,  however, 
clear  and  intelligible  ;  and  ranks  with  the  beft  imitations  of  the  ancient  tragic  ballad. 

The  Eclogues  are  not  inferior  to  the  beft  compofitions  of  that  kind,  either  ancient  or  modern.  The 
frjl  paftoral  bears  a  remote  refemblance  to  the  firft  eclogue  of  Virgil,  and  contains  a  beautiful  and  pa 
thetic  picture  of  the  ftate  of  England  during  the  civil  wars  between  the  houfes  of  Yol'k  and  Lancaf- 
ter.  The  thoughts  and  images  are  all  truly  paftoral;  and  it  is  impoffible  to  read  it  without  exps- 


THE  LIFE  OF  CHATTERTON.  3ij 

rkncing  thofc  lively,  yet  melancholy  feelings,  which  a  true  delineation  of  nature  alone  can  infpirc. 
ThcfeconJ  paftoral  is  an  eulogium  on  the  adions  of  Richard  I.  in  the  Holy  Land.  It  is  fuppofed  to 
be  fung'by  a  young  fliepherd,  whofe  father  is  abfent  in  the  Holy  War;  and  the  burden  is  happily 
imagined. 

Sprytcs  of  the  bleft,  and  every  feyncte  ydedde, 

Pour  out  your  pleafaunce  on  my  fadre's  hedde. 

Before  he  has  concluded  his  fong,  he  is  cheered  by  the  fight  of  the  veflel,  in  which  his  father  returns 
victorious.  The  third  paftoral  is  chiefly  to  be  admired  for  its  excellent  morality.  It  is,  however,  en 
livened  by  a  variety  of  appropriate  imagery,  and  many  of  the  ornaments  of  true  poetry.  The  laft  of 
thefe  paflorals,  called  Elinoun  and  Juga,  is  one  of  the  finefl  pathetic  tales  in  our  language.  The  com 
plaint  of  two  young  females  lamenting  their  lovers  flain  in  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancafter,  was  one 
of  the  happieft  fubjects  that  could  be  chofen  for  a  tragic  paftoral.  The  beautiful  ftanza  beginning 
No  moe  tie  mi/iyncttejball  ii-ale  the  morne,  feems  to  be  aa  imitation  of  a  ftanza  in  Gray's  "  Elegy." 

The  Songe  to  JElla  is  an  admirable  fpecimen  of  his  abilities  in  lyric  compofition.  The  following 
flanza  is  eminently  beautiful. 

O  thou,  where'er  (thie  bones  att  refte) 

Thye  fpryte  to  haunte  delyghteth  befte, 
Whether  uponne  the  bloud  embrewed  pleyne, 

Orr  whare  thou  kennft  from  farre 

The  dyfmal  crye  of  warre, 
Orr  feeft  fomme  mountain  made  of  corfe  of  fleyne. 

Thofe  who  can  fuppofe  that  this  ftanza  was  written  in  the  fifteenth  century,  muft  be  very  little  ac 
quainted  with  the  ftyle  and  manner  of  our  poetry  in  that  period.  Only  change  the  orthography, 
and  it  is  perfectly  modern. 

O  thou,  where'er  (thy  bones  at  reft) 

Thy  fprite  to  haunt  delighteth  beft, 
Whether  upon  the  blood  embrued  plain, 

Or  where  thou  kenn'ft  from  far 

The  difmal  cry  of  war, 
Or  feeft  fome  mountain  made  of  corpfe  of  flain. 

The  original  MS.  is  written  in  long  lines,  like  a  profe  compofition,  as  was  ufual  three  hun 
dred  years  ago,  when  parchment  was  fcarce  ;  but  it  was  furely  lefs  difficult  to  write  it  on  parchment, 
in  "  lines  not  kept  diftinct  in  the  manner  of  profe,"  than  to  be  the  author  of  it. 

The  BalaJe  of  Charitie  is  an  imitation  of  the  moft  beautiful  and  affecting  of  our  Saviour's  parables, 
the  good  Samaritan.  The  poetical  defcriptions  are  truly  picturefque.  We  feel  the  horror  of  the 
dark  cold  night ;  we  fee  the  big  drops  fall,  and  the  full  facts  driving  o'er  tl>e^>lain;  the  welkin  opens, 
and  tie  yellaiv  lightning  Jlics  ;  the  thunder's  rattling  found  moves  Jlotvly  on,  and,fivclling,  titrJJt  into  a  violent 
crajl,  fuakes  the  higb  ffire,  \3"c.  The  note  which  accompanied  this  paftoral  to  the  publifher  of  the 
"  Town  and  Country  Magazine,"  is  dated  Briftol,  July  4.  1770,  only  a  month  before  his  death.  "  If 
the  glqflary  annexed  to  the  following  piece  will  make  the  language  intelligible,  thefentiment,  defcrtp- 
tion,  and  <vcrjijication,  are  highly  defer-ving  the  attention  of  the  literati"  In  addition  to  the  internal  proofs 
that  it  was  a  compofition  of  the  day,  the  following  ftanza,  in  which  he  alludes  to  his  own  deferted 
fituation,  carries  melancholy  conviction  to  the  mind  that  it  was  the  compofition  of  Chatterton. 

Look  in  his  glommed  face,  his  fprighte  there  fcanne; 
Howe  woe-be-gone,  how  withered,  forwynd,  deade  ! 
Hafte  to  thie  church-glebe-hoiife,  afshrewed  manne  ! 
Hafte  to  thie  kifte,  thie  onlie  dortoure  bedde. 
Cale,  as  the  claie  whiche  will  gre  on  thie  hedde, 
Is  charitie  and  love  aminge  highe  elves ; 
Knighth  and  Barons  live  for  pleafure  and  themfelves. 

The  fmaller  pieces  are  not  without  merit.  There  is  much  elegant  fatire  in  the  two  EpiJIlei  t» 
Canynge  prefixed  to  JElla;  and  fome  ftrokes  of  pleafantry  in  the  Static  of  Canynge. 

The  poems  contained  in  the  M'fitllanics  and  Supplement,  acknowledged  by  Chatterton  to  be  his 
own  compofition,  have  been  thought  inferior  to  thofe  which  he  produced  as  written  by  Rowley.  If 
there  is  any  inequality,  at  leaft  the  fame  hand  appears  in  both.  Imagination  in  a  young  mind  is  not 
always  juft.  Rowley  has  his  faults  as  well  as  Chatterton  ;  but  both  collections  contain  an  imagery 
r>l  the  fame  fort.  If  fome  of  Chauerton's  avowed  pieces  are  fcarcely  to  be  infpetfcd  with  all  the 

V  iiij 


3tt  THF.  LIFE   OF   CMATTERTON. 

fcveritr  of  criticifm,  it  fhould  be  remember* d,  that  the  poemt  attributed  to  Rowley  arc  by  no  meani 
tiniformly  excellent.  It  fliculd  alfo  be  remembered,  that  Chatterton  lavifhed  all  liis  powers  on  the 
counterfeit  Rowley,  with  whom  he  intended  to  aftonifh  or  deceive  the  world;  that  the  pieces  he 
produced  as  written  b>  him,  were  compofed  with  one  uniform  object  in  view,  and  in  a  flate  of  It  i- 
fnre  and  ntpofie.  "  In  his  own  chara&er,"  fays  Mr.  Croft,  "  he  painted  for  bookfellers'and  bread, 
in  Rowley's  for  fame  and  eternity."  Confid-rablc  allowance  ought  to  be  made  for  the  exercifcs  of 
hit  infantine  years ;  for  the  incorrect  t ffufions  of  momentary  refentment ;  for  a  few  lines  thrown 
together  in  a  pla\  ful  mood  to  pleale  an  illiterate  female*,  or  to  amufe  a  fchoolfcllow,  and  perhaps 
not  lefs  for  the  haftv  and  involuntary  productions  of  indigence  and  ncccflity,  conftruded  for  a  ma 
gazine,  and  calculated  for  the  folc  purpofe  of  procuring  a  fubfiftcncc. 

His  M-j't&ii-t  contain  the  fame  even  and  flowing  verification  as  the  others,  the  fame  ftrolces  of 
ur.con;rno«  fp.rit  and  imagination,  aqd,  in  general,  difplay  the  lame  premature  abilities.  "  Nothing 
in  Chatterton,"  fays  Lord  Orford,  "  can  be  feparated  from  Chattcrton.  His  nobleft  flights,  his 
fweeteft  {trains,  his  grofleft  ribaldry,  and  his  mod  common-place  imitations  of  the  productions  of 
magazine^  were  all  the  effervefcenccs  of  the  fame  ungovernable  impulfc,  which,  camdcon-like,  im 
bibed  the  colours  of  all  it  looked  on.  It  was  Offian,  or  a  Saxon  monk,  or  Gray,  or  Smollett,  or  Ju 
ntas;  and  if  it  failed  mod  in  what  it  affedcd  moft,  to  be  a  poet  of  the  fifteenth  century,  it  was  be- 
eaufe  it  could  not  imitate  what  had  not  exifted." 

In  the  £!fgy  «»  Tfomat  Pkitift,  of  FafrforJ,  probably  his  old  mafter,  there  are  fome  defcriptive  ftaii- 
tas  not  unworthy  of  the  author  of  JSILt,  and  the  incomparable  chorus  of  Coddwyn. 

Pale  rugged  winter  bending  o'er  his  tread, 

His  grizzled  hair  bedropt  with  icy  dew ; 
His  eyes,  a  duiky'light,  congcal'd  and  dead ; 

His  robe,  a  tinge  of  bright  etherial  blue : 

His  train,  a  motley'd,  fanguine,  fable  cloud, 

He  limps  along  the  ruffet  dreary  moor; 
\Vhilft  riling  whirlwinds,  blafting,  keen,  and  loud, 

Roll  the  white  furges  to  the  founding  ihorc. 

Fancy,  whofc  various  figurc-tindhir'd  veft, 

Was  ever  changing  to  a  different  hue  : 
Her  head,  wifh  varied  bays  and  flow'rets  dreft, 

Her  eyes,  two  fpangles  of  the  morning  dew,  &c. 

1  hat  he  was  capable  of  writing  on  a  religious  fubjcd,  with  great  appearance  of  devotion,  is  evi- 
dt:tt  front  his  OJe  tit  Rtfifmatiui,  firft  publiflicd  in  "  Love  and  Madnefs,"  in  which  we  fcarcely  know, 
whether  mod  to  admire  the  piety  of  the  fcntimcnts,  or  the  beauty  of  die  poetry.  The  laft  ftanza  is 
eminently  beautiful. 

Hi>  African  Eclogues,  though  unconnected  and  unequal,  contain  fome  excellent  lines;  the  follow 
ing  occur  almoft  at  the  beginning  of  the  firft,  and  are  animated,  expreffive,  and  harmonious : 

High  from  the  ground  the  youthful  warriors  fprung, 

Loud  on  the  concave  {hell  the  lances  rung ; 

In  all  thf  myftic  mazes  of  the  dance, 

The  youths  of  Banny's  burning  lands  advance; 

V.'hilft  the  loft  virgin  panting  looks  behind, 

And  rides  upon  the  pinions  of  the  wind. 

The  fimiie  in  the  fccond  eclogue,  beginning,  So  vbta  arrtv'J  at  Gj/gra'j  bigbejijitep,  tJ*r.,  is  Bot 
perfectly  corred  ;  but  the  livelinds  of  the  defcription  evinces  a  moft  vigorous  imagination. 

Of  the  poem  0*  Hjppuirfi,mfened  in  "  Love  and  Madnefs,"  Mr.  Croft  tells  us,  "  that  Catcott, 
talking  one  day  with  Chatterton  about  happincfs,  Chatterton  faid,  he  had  never  yet  thought  on  the 
fnbjefi  ;  but  that  he  would.  The  next  rfay  he  brought  Catcott  thefe  lines,  and  told  him  they  con 
tained  his  creed  of  happinefs."  The  poem,  confifting  of  upwards  of  a  hundred  lines,  is  undoubt 
edly  irreligious ;  but  it  bears  the  ftrongeft  marks  ot  geniw?,  fagacity,  and  accutenefs,  and  convinces 
us  of  the  great  extent  and  variety  of  his  abilities. 

The  poem,  called  Apylate  #"/.'.',  written  when  he  was  eleven  years  and  almoft  five  months  old, 
appears  to  have  been  aimed  at  fomebody  who  had  formerly  been  a  Methodift,  and  was  lately  pro 
moted  in  the  Eflabliihcd  Chuich.  It  Cicws  the  early  turn  and  ben:  of  his  gcnits  to  fatire,  which  was 


THE   LIFE   OP  CHATTERTON.  J13 

hia  fort,  if  any  thing  can  be  called  hi*  fort,  who  excelled  in  every  thing  he  undertook ;  and  that  he 
*.  *  th-n  no  ftrangrr  to  the  work*  of  iiingham,  Young,  and  Stillingflect,  whkh  were  probably  amoag 
th-:  book*  of  oivmity,  mentioned  in  his  fjltci'*  letter. 

The  Cc-.  f..liad,  a  political  piece,  written  at  Drift ol,  and  in  the  higheft  ftrain  of  party  fcurrility  ha« 
fomc  krone*  of  fatire  in  a  fuprrior  ftylc.  The  introda&ory  lines  are  animated  and  poetical  The 
Pr^riy,  wntt'.n  aj  patently  a  fhort  time  after,  i*  in  the  beft  ftyle  of  Swift,  and  appear*  to  be  the 
genuine  effufi-.n  of  that  enthufuftk  love  of  liberty,  which  generally  take*  poffcflion  of  young  and 
fanguinc  difpofitions. 

The  fetire  of  Chatterton  ha*  the  poignancy  and  fometimes  the  coarfcnef*  of  Churchill.  Dryden 
and  Pope  leem  to  have  been  h!»  model*  for  verification  ;  but  he  ha*  more  of  the  luxuriance,  fluency, 
and  negligence  of  Dr'yden,  than  of  the  terfcnefs  and  refinement  of  Pope. 

In  his  Saxon  Poem;,  written  in  the  ftyle  of  Offian,  he  has  not  improved  upon  an  indifferent  model. 
They  are  full  of  wild  imagery  and  inconfiftent  metaphor,  with  little  either  of  plot  or  of  character  to 
recommend  them. 

Of  the  profe  competition*  of  Chatterton,  the  Adventure*  of  a  Star,  the  Memoir -i  of  a  Sad  Dog,  the 
Hunter  of  Odditiei,  Tony  Stt-jioofi  Letter,  \3c.  difplay  confiderable  knowledge  of  what  it  called  the 
town,  and  demonftrate  the  keennej*  of  hi*  observation,  and  hi*  quickneftin  acquiring  any  branch  of 
knowledge,  or  in  adapting  himfclf  to  any  fituat ion.  A  confiderable  fund  of  reading  in  Magazine*, 
Rcvkws,  &c.  whkh  Mr.  Warton  obfcrve*,  "  form  thc/cM  of  tie  people"  had  prepared  him  well 
to  cxercifc  the  profeffion  of  a  periodical  writer. 

Antiquitiet,  however,  conftjtuted  hi*  favourite  ftudy,  and  in  them  hi*  genius  always  appear*  to  the 
greateft  advantage ;  even  the  moft  humorous  of  hi*  piece*,  Tony  Sel-wooft  Letter,  derive*  it*  prin 
cipal  excellence  from  hi*  knowledge  of  ancient  cuftoms.  In  the  Cbrijlmat  Gaaut,  which  are  acknow 
ledged  to  be  hi*  own,  and  in  his  EJjfay  m  Sculpture,  there  i*  much  of  that  peculiar  learning  in  Bntifli 
antiquities,  whkh  wa*  neceftary  to  lay  the  foundation  of  Rowley'*  poem*~  Hi*  Will,  written  be 
fore  he  left  Briftol,  throw*  much  light  on  hi*  real  character,  hi*  acquaintance  with  old  Englifh 
writers,  and  hi*  capability  of  underftanding  and  imitating  old  French  and  Latin  infcriptions,  not 
indeed  grammatically,  but  fufficient  to  anfwer  the  purpofe*  to  which  he  often  applied  thi*  know 
ledge.  From  thi*  writing,  it  appear*,  that  he  would  not  allow  David  to  have  been  a  holy  man,  from 
the  ftrain*  of  piety  and  devotion  in  hi*  Halms,  becaufe  a  great  gentui  can  affect  any  thing,  that  i»,  ajjune 
any  cbaraSer  and  mode  of  -writing  he  pleafes.  1'his  is  an  anfwer  from  Chatterton  himfclf,  to  one  at- 
giirr.cn t,  and  a  very  powerful  one,  in  fupport  of  the  authenticity  of  Rowley's  poems.  The  piece* 
figned  Afapbidei,  do  not  appear  to  be  Chatterton'*.  He  almoft  alway*  figncd  himfclf  D.  B.,  the 
initial*  of  hi*  firft  Latin  lignature,  Dunbelmut  Brijlolienfu.  The  ftory  of  Maria  Frindlifi,  which 
Chatterton  himfelf  fent  to  the  "  Town  and  Country  Magazine,"  probably  for  the  lake  of  obtain 
ing  an  immediate  and  neceftary  fupply  of  money,  is  almoft  a  literal  tranfcript  of  die  Letter  of 
Mifella  in  the  "  Rambler." 

So  verfatile,  fo  extenfive,  fo  commanding  wa*  hi*  genius,  that  he  forged  biflorj,  aribinfture,  and 
Itraldry.  He  wrote  alfo  a  Manki  Tragedy,  which,  if  his  forgeries  had  met  with  a  irore  favourable 
reception  than  they  did,  he  would  doubtlds  have  produced  a*  an  ancient  compofitkm.  With  the  ar 
dour  of  true  genius,  he  afpired 

i'  pcrere  inde  coronam, 
Unde  prius  nulli  vclarint  tempera  mufx. 

The  reputation  of  Chatterton  does  not  reft  folcly  on  thofe  works  which  he  acknowledged  as  hi« 
•wn.  His  faireft  claim  to  immortality  i*  founded  on  the  poems  attributed  to  Rowley,  whkh  it  feems 
now  to  be  generally  acknowledged  were  really  of  his  own  compofition.  The  controverfy  whkh  their 
publication  excited  i»  brought  to  an  Sflue.  The  generality  of  the- learned,  fince  they  were  put  in  die 
plain  track  of  inquiry,  have  acquiefced  in  the  decifion  of  the  advocate*  for  Chatterton's  title.  The 
confciou*  filence  of  the  defenders  of  their  antiquity  fufficienrly  (hows  that  little  can  be  oppofcd  t* 
the  proofs  brought  in  fupport  of  hit  title  to  them. 

A  ftatc  of  the  controverfy,  which,  both  on  account  of  its  novelty  and  it*  merit,'!*  the  moft  CBTJOW 
and  extraordinary,  which,  fince  die  daya  of  Bcntlcy  and  Boyle,  has  divided  die  literary  world,  claim* 
a  place  ia  the  life  of  Chattcrtw ;  aad  the  reader  will  901  be  iodised  to  confidcr  it  a*  unimportact, 


314  THE  LIFE   OF  CHATTERTON. 

nor  deem  it  unworthy  of  fuch  particular  and  elaborate  difcuflion,  when  he  perufes  a  lift  of  the  pub 
lications  on  both  fides,  and  perceives  that  it  has  been  honoured  with  the  attention  of  gentlemen  of 
the  firft  erudition  in  the  republic  of  letters,  and  reflects,  that  its  determination  affects  not  only  the 
reputation  of  Chatterton,  but  "  the  great  lines  of  the  hiftory  of  Englifh  poetry." 

On  the  fide  of  the  queftion  which  aflerts  the  authenticity  of  the  poems,  are  the  names  of  Lang- 
borne  (Monthly  Review,  1777),  Milles  (Commentary,  Sue.  1782),  Bryant  (Obfervations,  &c. 
1783),  Greene  (Strictures  on  Malone,  Warton,  &c.  1782),  Matthias  (Eflay  on  the  Evidence,  &c. 
1783),  and  the  author  of  "  Obfervations  on  Rowley,  and  Remarks  on  Tyrwhitt's  Appendix"  (1782). 
The  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  (1777^  was  on  the  fame  fide.  The  "  Critical  Review"  (1777) 
gave  extracts,  but  no  opinion.  Dr.  Gregory  (Life  of  Chatterton,  1789)  gives  an  abftract  of  the 
arguments  on  both  fides,  but  no  verdict  of  his  own.  He  leans  to  the  fame  fide  ;  but  his  candour 
and  modefty  exempt  him  from  being  confidered  as  a  partizan. 

The  publications  of  Dr.  Milles  and  Mr.  Bryant  have  been  juftly  confidered,  not  only  as  the  moft. 
voluminous,  but  as  the  firft,  in  point  of  learning  and  ingenuity,  on  this  fide  of  the  queftion.  Lang- 
horne  himfelf,  a  poet,  "  on  firft  opening  the  poems,"  concluded  "  that  they  were  mock  ruins"  Upon 
the  teftimony  of  Mr.  Catcott,  &c.  he  pronounced  them  "  the  original  productions  of  Rowley,  with 
many  alterations  and  interpolations  by  Chatterton."  Mr.  Matthias  has  delineated  the  leading  objects 
of  the  controverfy  with  great  accuracy,  perfpicuity,  and  clegaace.  Though  he  himfelf  efpoufes  the 
authenticity  of  the  poems,  yet  his  book,  having  fo  ftrongly  and  faithfully  reprefented  the  arguments 
on  the  other  fide  of  the  queftion,  is  more  calculated  to  overthrow  thsn  to  confirm  his  own  opinion. 
The  objection  is  too  forcible  for  the  anfwer. 

The  arguments  which  the  advocates  of  Rowley  advance,  are  the  afleverations  of  Chatterlon, 
whom  they  themfelves  calumniate  as  ','  unprincipled,"  and  who  indeed  contradicted  himfelf  in  the 
very  outfet  of  his  adventure ;  the  teftimonies  of  his  friends,  who  thought  him  incapable  of  writing; 
the  poems ;  partial  quotations  from  the  poems,  for  a  difplay  of  antiquated  words  and  obfcure  expref- 
fions ;  quotations  ftill  more  partial,  from  one  or  two  old  Englifh  poets,  in  order  to  fhow  how  fofliUe 
it  was  for  them  to  produce,  now  and  then,  an  harmonious  coincidence  of  words;  and  the  incom- 
petency  of  Chatterton,  both  as  to  his  genius  and  acquired  knowledge,  to  this  literary  fraud 

"  They  who  are  willing,"  fays  Dr.  Milles,  "  to  think  Chatterton's  time  and  abilities  equal  to  all 
that  is  attributed  to  him.muft  confider  the  great  compafs and  variety  of  knowledge  neceffary  to  qualify 
him  for  fo  extenfive  a  forgery.  He  muft  have  been  converfant,  to  a  certain  degree,  with  the  language 
of  our  ancient  poets,  with  the  meaning  and  inflexion  of  their  words,  and  with  the  rules  of  grammar 
which  they  obferved.  He  muft  have  formed  a  vocabulary  from  their  books,  which  muft  have  been 
previoufly  read  and  uaderftood  by  him,  as  the  groundwork  of  his  imitation,  and  undoubtedly  the 
moft  difficult  part  of  the  undertaking." 

To  the  truth  of  thefe  obfervations,  an  advocate  for  Chatterton  may  in  a  great  degree  fubfcrifre, 
without  being  convinced  that  he  was  unequal  to  the  tafk  in  queftion.  Chatterton  was  an  extraordi 
nary  inftance  of  prematurity  of  abilities,  fuch  as  Wotton,  Barretier,  Pfalmanazar,  Crichton,  Servii:, 
&e.  Common  glofiaries  and  dictionaries,  Speght,  Kerfey,  Bailey,  &c.  furniflied  him  with  moft  of 
the  obfolete  terms  which  he  has  introduced,  and  common  hiftories,  Geoffry  of  Monmouth,  Hol- 
linfhed,  Fox,  Fuller,  Camden,  &c.  with  moft  of  the  facts  he  has  alluded  to. 

The  leading  object  of  Mr.  Bryant's  work  is  to  prove,  that  Chatterton  could  not  have  been  the 
author  of  the  poems ;  becaufe,  in  a  variety  of  inftances,  he  appeared  not  to  underftand  them.  There 
is  fomething  rpecious  in  this  plea ;  but  the  learned  writer  has  egregioufiy  failed  in  his  proofs.  He 
has  invented  "  meanings  never  meant,"  and  difcovered  allufions  never  intended;  and,  deluded  by 
his  own  fancy,  has  made  the  moft  whimfical  hypothefes  the  ground  of  his  argument ;  fo  that, 
becaufe  Chatterton  did  not  anticipate  his  conjectures,  he  muft  be  ignorant  of  Rowley's  meaning ! 
This  is  to  make  the  error,  in  order  to  correct  it.  Chatterton  undoubtedly  miftook  the  meaning  of 
feveral  words ;  but  the  miftakc  equally  concerns  the  poet  and  the  glofiarift.  Mr.  Bryant  would  con 
fine  every  miftake,  both  as  to  words  and  things,  to  the  laft  ;  and  produces  a  lift  of  upwards  of  fifty 
terms  to  "  demonftrate"  his  propofition  ;  but  his  reafonings,  in  almoft  every  inftance,  are  futile,  and 
his  inferences  forced  and  unnatural.  Speght,  Kerfey,  and  Bailey,  in  whom  Chatterton  confided,  will 
explain  the  whole. 

The  obfervations  of  Mr.  Matthias  on  the  power  of  genius,  and  what  he  calls  the  capability  of  the 
Englifh  language,  carry  little  force  or  conviction  with  them.  His  example  is  Homer.  The  cafe  of 
Rowley  and  Homer  is  exceedingly  different.  We  have  real  ground  to  proceed  on  when  we  fpeak 


THE  LIFE  OF  CHATTERTON.  $lj 

of  the  poetry  of  Rowley's  age ;  but  nothing  better  than  imaginary,  when  fpeaking  of  the  age  of 
Homer.  The  ancients  were  convinced  that  Homer  had  fome  models  to  guide  him ;  and  it  is  high 
ly  reafonable  to  fuppofe  it.  But  the  point  in  difpute  is  not,  whether  Rowley  might  not  have  been 
fuperior  to  every  other  poet  of  his  day,  but  whether  there  is  any  ground  in  reafon  to  fuppofe,  or 
whether  experience  will  warrant  the  fuppofition,  that  he  ftiould  be  e/entially  and  almoft  totally  dif 
ferent  in  language,  in  mode  of  compofition,  in  harmony,  in  metre,  in  alluuons,  in  references,  in  ob- 
fervations,  in  fentiment,  and  in  every  thing  that  falls  within  the  compafs  of  what  is  called  tafle,  from 
not  only  a  few,  but  from  all  the  writers  of  his  own  and  of  every  preceding  age  ?  The  defenders  of 
Rowley  muft  affent  to  this  propofition  in  its  fulleft  extent ;  a  propofition  to  which  the  mind  almoft 
inftinctivcly  revolts,  and  which  the  experience  of  mankind  univerfally  contradicts. 

Among  the  advocates  of  Chatterton,  are  the  names  of  Tyrwhitt  ( Appendix  to  the  octavo  edition 
of  Rowley,  1777,  and  Vindication  of  the  Appendix,  1781),  Croft  (Love  and  Madnefs,  1780),  Scott 
(Gentleman's  Magazine,  1777,  and  Poetical  Works,  1782),  the  Earl  of  Orford  (Two  Letters  print 
ed  at  Strawberry-hill,  1779),  Badcock  (Monthly  Review,  I78z),  Waiton  (Hift.  of  Englifh  Poetry, 
vol.  a.  and  Inquiry,  &c.  1782).  Malone  (Curfory  Obfervations,  1782);  Gray,Mafon,  Hayley,  Pyc, 
Frefton,  Percy,  Mickle,  Headley,  Johnfon,  Knox,  Dyer,  &c.  The  "  Critical  Review''  (1782),  and 
"  Gentleman's  Magazine"  (1782),  joined  the  party,  which  denies  the  authenticity  of  the  poems. 

The  publications  of  Mr.  Warton,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  Mr.  Malone,  and  the  mafterly  critique  of  Mr. 
Badcock,  have  defervedly  been  confidered  as  the  firft,  in  point  of  confcquence,  on  this  fide  of  the 
queftion,  and  indeed  decifive  of  the  controverfy. 

"  Infignificant  as  it  may  feem,"  fays  Mr.  Warton,  "  the  determination  of  this  queftion  AFFECTS 

THE  GREAT   LINES    OF  THE   HISTORY  OF   POETRY,  AND  EVEN   OF  GEN1RAL  LITERATURE."      If  it 

ihould  at  laft  be  decided,  that  thefe  poems  were  really  written  fo  early  as  the  reign  of  King  Edward 
IV.,  the  entire  fyftem  that  hath  been  framed  concerning  the  prepofieflion  of  poetical  compofition, 
and  every  theory  that  has  been  eftablifhed  on  the  gradual  improvement  of  tafte,  flyle,  and  language, 
will  be  lhakcn  and  difarranged." 

The  firft  ferious  objection  which  occurs,  againft  the  authenticity  of  the  poems,  is,  that  Chatterton 
never  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  produce  more  than  four  of  the  originals,  the  Challenge  to  Lydgatc, 
the  Sengt  to  JElla,  and  Lydgate's  Anfwer,  contained  in  one  parchment,  and  the  account  of  W.  Canyngft 
Feajl,  the  Epitaph- on  Robert  Canynge,  and  part  of  the  Story  of  W,  Canynge;  the  whole  not  contain 
ing  mere  than  124  verfes.  If  he  bad  been  in  polTcffion  of  the  original  MS3.  of  Mlla,  Battle  of  Haft- 
ings,  &c.  what  fhould  have  hindered  his  producing  them  ?  If  he  wiflied  to  give  credit  to  his  pre- 
tenfions,  how  could  he  better  have  effected  his  purpofe  than  by  Ihowing  his  originals  ?  What  could 
have  been  his  motive  for  deftroying  them,  upon  the  fuppofition  of  his  having  pofiefled  them  ?  This 
queftion  was  never  anfwered.  The  fact  was,  Chatterton  confined  his  attempts  at  forging  MSS.  to 
fmaller  pieces ;  but  in  thefe  he  failed.  How  much  more  would  he  have  failed  in  poems  of  any  confi- 
derable  length  ?  The  attempt  was  too  daring  even  for  his  adventurous  pen. 

The  firft  parchment,  containing  66  verfes,  has  fince  been  loft ;  but  there  can  be  no  difficulty  in 
pronouncing  it  a  forgery,  as  the  correfpondence  itfelf,  between  Lydgate  and  the  fuppofed  Rowley,  is 
plainly  fictitious.  Dr.  Milles  fays,  "  that  the  hand  in  which  the  ftory  of  Canynge  is  written,  is 
fomewhat  different  from  the  Account  of  Canynge' s  Feaft  "  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  adds,  "  that  the  hand 
in  which  the  Epitaph  on  Robert  Canynge  is  written,  differs  entirely  from  both."  They  could  not  both, 
therefore,  have  been  written  by  Rowley.  The  archetype  of  the  fac fimilc  of  Canyngc1}  Feajl  is  evident 
ly  a  forgery.  It  contains  no  fpecies  of  handwriting  that  ever  exifted  in  any  age,  and  could  only  have 
been  read  by  the  perfon  who  wrote  it. 

The  very  exiftence  of  any  fuch  perfon  as  Rowley  is  queftioned,  and  upon  good  grounds.  He  is  not 
fo  much  as  noticed  by  William  of  Wyrceftre,  who  lived  about  the  fuppofed  time  of  Rowley,  was 
himfelf  of  Briftol,  and  makes  frequent  mention  of  Canynge.  "  Bale,"  fays  Lord  Orford,  "  who 
lived  near  two  hundred  years  nearer  to  Rowley  than  we,  and  who,  by  unwearied  induftry,  dug  a 
thoufand  bad  authors  out  of  obfcurity,"  has  never  taken  the  leaft  notice  of  fuch  a  perfon ;  nor  yet 
Leland,  Pitts,  or  Tanner,  nor  indeed  any  other  literary  biographer.  That  no  copies  of  any  of  his 
works  fhould  exift,  but  thofe  depofited  in  RedclifFe  church,  is  alfo  an  unaccountable  circumftance  not 
eafy  to  be  furmounted.  The  manner  in  which  they  are  faid  to  have  been  preferved  is  improbable. 
.  That  title  deeds,  relating  to  the  church,  or  even  hiftorical  records,  might  be  lodged  in  the  muni 
ment  room  of  RedcUffe  church,  is  fufncientfy  probable;  but  that  pormt  Ihould  have  been  configned 


3*  THE    LIFE    OF   CHATTERTON. 

to  a  cheft  with  fix  keys,  kept  in  a  private  room,  with  title  deeds  and  conveyances, and  that  thefe  key* 
ihould  be  intriifled,  not  to  the  heads  of  a  college  or  any  literary  fociety,  but  to  aldermen  and  church 
wardens,  is  a  i'uppoiition  replete  with  abfurdlty  ;  and  the  improbability  is  increased,  when  we  confider, 
that  thefe  very  papers  paffed  through  the  hands  of  perfons  of  feme  literature,  of  Chattertoii's  father 
in  particular,  who  had  a  tafte  for  poetry,  and  yet  without  the  leaft  difcovery  of  their  intrinfic  value. 

No  writings,  or  cheft,  depofited  in  Redcliffc  church,  are  mentioned  in  Mr.  Canynge's  will,  which 
fcas  been  carefully  infpected ;  nor  any  books,  except  two,  called  "  Ligers  cum  integra  legenda," 
which  he  leaves  to  be  ufed  occafionally  in  the  choir,  by  die  two  chaplains  eftabliflied  by  him. 

To  account  for  Chatterton's  extenfive  acquaintance  with  old  books,  out  of  the  line  of  common 
reading,  Mr.  Warton  obferves,  that  the  Old  Lilrcry  at  Briitol,  was,  during  his  lifetime,  of  univerfal 
accefs,  and  Chatterton  was  actually  introduced  to  it  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Catcott,  who  wrote  on  the 
«*  Deluge,"  the  brother  of  Mr.  George  Catcott  the  pewterer.  He  adds,  that  Mr.  Catcott,  the  cler- 
-gyman,  always  looked  on  Chatterton's  pretentious  with  fufpicion,  and  regarded  the  poems,  which 
he  attributed  to  Rowley,  as  the  fpurious  productions  of  his  own  pen. 

Chatterton's  account  of  Canynge,  &c.  as  far  as  it  is  countenanced  by  William  of  Wyrceftre  (that 
is,  as  far  as  it  refpects  his  taking  orders,  and  paying  a  fine  to  the  king,,  may  be  found  in  the  epitaph 
on  Majlcr  Canynge,  flill  remaining  to  be  read  by  every  perfon,  both  in  Latin  and  Engliih,  in  Red- 
clifie  Church,  which  indeed  appears  to  be  the  authority  that  William  of  Wyrceftre  himfelf  has  fol 
lowed. 

Chatterton's  account  alfo  of  Redcliffe  fteeple,  is  to  be  found  at  the  bottom  of  a  print  of  that 
church,  publifhed  in  1746,  by  one  John  Halfpenny,  "  in  which,"  fays  Mr.  Tyrwhitt, "  was  recount- 
-ed  the  ruin  of  the  fleeple  in  1446,  by  a  tempeft  and  fire." 

As  to  the  old  vellum,  or  parchment  on  which  Chatterton  tranfcribed  his  fragments,  Mr.  Malone 
obferves,  that  "  at  the  bottom  of  each  fheet  of  old  deeds  (of  which  there  were  many  in  the  Briftol 
cheft),  there  isnfually  a  blank  fpace  of  about  four  or  five  inches  in  breadth  ;"  and  this  exactly  agrees 
•with  the  fhape  and  Cze  of  the  longeft  fragment  which  he  has  exhibited,  viz.  eight  and  a  half  inches 
long,  and  four  and  a  half  broad.  Mr.  Ruddall  attefts  that  Chatterton  practifed  experiments  to  give 
the  ink  and  parchments  which  he  produced  the  colour  and  the  (lain  of  antiquity. 

In  point  otj!yle,compcfitio't,ft:ntiment,  and  verification,  the  poems  of  Rowley  are  infinitely  fuperior  to 
"every  other  production  of  the  century  which  is  laid  to  have  produced  them. 

-  It  was  eafy  for  Chatterton  to  copy  ancient  ii<orJs,  but  it  was  by  no  means  fo  eafy  for  him  to  copy 
ancient  Jlyle.  Here  lies  the  mean  defect  in  the  impofition:;  and  by  this,  and  this  alone,  the  controverfy 
may  be  fairly  decided  to  the  fatisfaction  of  every  perfon  of  •  tafte  and  judgment.  The  old  words 
thickly  laid  on,  form  an  antique  cruft  on  the  language,  which  at  firft  view  impofes  on  the  view ;  but 
•which,  on  examination,  appears  not  to  belong  originally  to  it.  It  was  put  on  the  better  to  cover  the 
impofition ;  but  like  moft  impcfitions,  it  is  overloaded  with  difguife,  and  difcovers  itfelf  by  the  very 
means  which  were  defigned  to  hide  it.  The  language  is  too  ancient  for  the  date  of  the  poems.  It  is 
only  necefiary  to  refer  the  reader  to  the  "  Paflon  Letters,"  publifhed  by  Sir  John  Fenn,  to  the 
**  Nut-brown  Maid,1'  to  the  "  Piophecies,"  printed  at  London  in  1533,  all  works  coeval  with  the 
fuppofed  Rowley,  to  convince  him  that  the  language  was  at  that  time  completely  different  Trom  Chat- 
'  terton's  forgery.  The  papers  of  ftate  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  are  as  modern  and  good  Englifh  as 
thofe  of  Henry  VIII.  It  is  not  the  language  of  any  particular  period,  or  particular  province.  The 
words  are  Saxon  and  Anglo-Saxon,  and  Scottifli  and  Englifn.  We  have  provincial  terms  of  the  north 
and  of  the  fouth ;  we  have  Chaucer,  and  Pope,  and  Skelton,  and  Gray,  and  that  frequently  within  the 
fhori  compafs  of  a  fingle  verfe.  The  diction  and  verfification  are  at  perpetual  variance.  He  borrowed 
his  ancient  language,  not  from  the  ufage  of  common  life,  but  from  lexicographers,  and  copied  their 
miftakes.  He  has  even  introduced  words  whxh  never  made  a  part  of  the  Englifli  language,  and 
which  are  evidently  the  coinage  of  fancy,  analogy,  or  miflake. 

The  Jlyle  is  evidently  modern  Our  old  Englifh  poets  are  minute  and  particular ;  they  do  not 
deal  in  abftraction  and  general  exhibition,  but  even  in  the  courfe  of  narration  or  defcripticn  dwell 
en  realities.  But  the  counterfeit  Rowley  adopts  ideal  terms  and  artificial  modes  of  telling  a  fa6bt 
and  too  frequently  falls  into  metaphor,  metaphyfical  imagery,  and  incidental  perfonification.  The 
poets  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  abound  in  unnatural  conceptions,  ftrange  imagina 
tions,  capricious  extravagancies,  and  even  the  moft  ridiculous  inconfiftencies.  But  Rowley's  poenif 

4 


THE  LIFE   OF  CHATTERTON.  3,7 

prefent  us  with  no  incongruous  combinations,  no  mixture  of  manners,  conflitutions,  ufages,  and  cha 
racters.  They  contain  no  violent  or  grofs  improprieties.  One  of  the  flriking  characteriftics  of  old 
Englifli  poetry  is  a  continued  tenor  of  difparity.  In  Gower,  Chaucer,  and  Lydgate,  elegant  defcrip- 
tions,  ornamental  images,  &c.  bear  no  proportion  to  pages  of  langour  and  mediocrity,  affected  con 
ceits  of  exprefii  on,  dull  and  fritc  reflections,  or  tedious  and  unadorned  narratives.  The  poems  of 
Rowley  are  uniformly  good.  They  are  the  productions,  not  only  of  genius  but  of  taflc  ;  a  tafte  which 
could  not  poffibly  have  been  acquired  qn  a  fudden,  or  by  any  fpontaneous  efforts,  or  by  a  penetration 
or  feeling  which  anticipated  the  improvements  of  a  polifhed  age,  but  by  an  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  manners  and  fentiments  of  the  prtfen:  times,  and  a  diligent  ftudy  of  the  belt  productions  of 
our  modern  poets. 

"  Thefe  poems  exhibit,"  fays  Mr.  Warton,  "  both  in  connection  of  words  and  fentenccs,  a  faci 
lity  of  combination,  a  quicknefs  of  tranfition,  a  rapidity  of  apoftrophe,  a  frequent  variation  offeree 
and  phrafe,  and  a  firmnefs  of  contexture,  which  muft  have  been  the  refult  of  a  long  eftablimment  of 
the  arts  and  habits  of  writing.  The  verfification  is  equally  vigorous  and  harmonious,  and  is  formed 
on  a  general  elegance  and  liability  of  expreffion.  It  is  remarkable,  that  whole  ftanzas  fparkle  with 
that  brilliancy  which  did  not  appear  in  our  poetry,  till  towards  the  middle  of  the  prefent  century. 
The  lines  have  all  the  tricks  and  trappings,  all  the  fophiftications  of  poetical  ftyle  belonging  to  thofe 
models,  which  were  popular  when  Chatterfon  began  to  write  verfes." 

"  If  a  modern  corrector,"  he  adds,  "  has  been  at  work,  he  has  apparently  been  fo  very  bufy,  as 
to  leave  but  little  or  none  of  the  original.  His  file  has  worn  what  it  poliflied.  If  the  poetry  before 
us  mould  have  been  only  corrected  or  interpolated  by  parts,  I  believe  there  will  be  HO  difficulty  in 
drawing  the  line  of  diftinction  between  the  refpeitive  property  of  Rowley  and  Chatterton ;  for  fuch 
correctiAns  and  interpolations  appear  to  confift,  not  only  in  words  and  hemiftics,  but  in  a  fuite  of 
ftanzas,  in  pages  of  cenfiderable  length,  and  fuch  as  have  been  the  favourite  of  the  public,  and  have 
'been  diftinguifjied  for  their  poetical  beauties." 

There  appears  in  thefe  poems  none  of  that  learning  which  peculiarly  marks  all  the  compofitions 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  Our  old  poets  are  perpetually  confounding  Gothic  and  clafilcal  allufions, 
knight-errantry  and  ancient  hiftory,  fculpturc,  and  romance,  religion,  and  chivalry.  Ovid  and  St. 
Auftin  are  fometimes  cited  in  the  fame  line.  A  ftudious  ecclefiaftic  of  that  period  would  give  us  a 
variety  of  ufekfs  authorities  from  Arifto'le,  f-.om  Boethius,  and  from  the  fathers;  and  the  whole 
•would  have  been  intetfperfed  with  allufions  to  the  old  romances:  The  round  table,  with  Sir  Laun-. 
celot,  and  Sir  Triflram,  and  Charlemagne  would  have  been  conflantly  cited.  Poems  from  fuch  an 
author  would  have  occafionally  exhibited  prolix  devotional  epifodes,  mingled  with  texts  of  fcrip- 
ture,  and  addrefs  to  the  faints  and  Bkffed  Virgin,  inftead  of  apoflrophes  to  fuch  allegorical  divini-* 
ties,  as  Truth,  and  Content  and  others  of  Pagan  original. 

The  metre  of  the  old  Englifli  poetry  is  totally  different  from  that  of  Rowley.  The  ftanza  in 
•which  the  majority  of  thefe  poems  are  written,  confifts  of  ten  lines,  the  two  firft  quatrains  of  which 
rhyme  alternately,  and  it  clofes  with  an  Alexandrine;  no  example  of  which, occurs  in  Chaucer,  Lyd 
gate,  or  Gower.  Spenfer  extended  the  o&lava  nma  of  Chaucer  to  nine  lines,  clofing  with  an  Alex 
andrine,  to  which  Prior  added  a  tenth.  This  laft,  of  which  examples  have  been  multiplied,  wa» 
Chatterton's  model.  Mr.  Warton  oblerves,  that  the  unvaried  and  habitual  exactnefs  of  the  modulation  ef 
tbefnal  Alexandrine,  in  the  poems  of  Rowley,  excludes  their  claim  to  antiquity.  "  Had  the  fuppof- 
ed  Rowley,"  he  adds,  "  written  Alexandrine?,  he  would  not  have  exceeded  Spenfer  and  equalled 
Dryden  in  the  mufic  of  verfification." 

Notwithstanding  the  affectation  of  ancient  language,  the  tinfel  of  modern  pbrafiology  may,  in  too, 
many  inftances,  be  detected.  Such  phrafes  as  fuerilitie ;  Irforc  his  optics ;  blamc'efs  tongue  ;  the 
aucthoure  of  the  pieces  vefiel  wreckt  upon  the  tragic  fand  ;  yroto-Jleyne,  &c.  could  not  be  the  language 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  We  find  alfo  a  number  of  modern  formularies  and  combinations,  "  fyfters  in 
forrow ;"  "  Ah,  what  availde,"  "  Oh,  thou,  whate'er  thie  name,"  &c,  with  a  number  of  compound 
epithets,  fuch  as,  guile-dcfeynted ;  ncme-di$eyr.ied ',  bkdde-Jleyned  ;  fivift-berved  :  gore-red;  fufer-baUie, 
&c.  and  other  terms  of  exprefilon  and  allufions  evidently  modern. 

To  thefe  may  be  added  fomc  anacbronifnu,  fuch  as  the  art  of  knitting JlocHngs,  alluded  to  in  the  tra 
gedy  of  JEUa,  which  was  utterly  unknown  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  and  a  great  variety  of  /.ir- 
tii»lar  and  atfrofritte  imiteiioru  of  modern  poets.  Such  coincidences  as  the  following  are  fo  palpable. 


3l8  THE  LIFE   OF   CHATTERTON.  , 

that  it  fccms  to  be  out  of  the  power  of  prejudice  itfelf  to  evade  the  inference  which  arifes  from 
them. 

O  for  a  raufe  of  fire  !         Shak.  Hen.  V. 

O  forr  a  fpryte  al  feere  !         JElla. 

His  beard  all  white  as  fnow, 

All  flaxen  was  his  pole.         Hamlet. 

Blacke  his  cryne  as  the  wyntere  nyghte, 
Whyte  his  rode  as  the  fommer  fnowe.         JElla. 

And  tears  began  to  flow.        Dryd.  Alex.  FeoJI. 
And  teares  beganne  to  flowe.        Syr  C.  Ba-wd'm. 

No,  no  he  is  dead, 

Gone  to  his  death-bed.         Hamlet. 

Mie  love  is  dedde, 

Gone  to  his  deathe-bedde.        JSlla. 

UnhoufclTd,  unanointed,  unaLnell'd.         Hamlet,  Popes  Edit 

Unburled,  undelyvre,  unefpryte.         Godd-wyn. 

Their  fouls  from  corpfes  unakiteWd  depart.        Bat.  ofjjajl.  p.  I, 

The  gray  goofe  wing  that  was  thereon, 

In  his  heart's  blood  was  wet. '       Chevy  Chafe. 

The  gray-goof:  pyneon  that  thereon  was  fett, 

Eftfoons  wy th  fmoking  cryinfon  bloud  tuts  ivetf.          Bat.  of  Hajl. 

With  fuch  a  force  and  vehement  might, 
i        He  did  his  body  gore, 

The  fpear  went  through  the  other  fide, 

A  large  cloth  yard  and  more.         Chevy  Cbafe. 

With  tbilk  a  force  it  did  his  body  gore, 
That  in  his  tender  guts  it  entered, 
In  veritie  a  full  cloth-yard  or  more.  Bat.  of  Haf. 

Clos'd  his  eyes  in  endlefs  night.         Gray's  Bard. 

He  closed  his  eyne  in  everlaitynge  nyghte.        Bat.  of  HaJ}. 

Of  the  forms  of  cotxpafttion  adopted  by  the  fuppofed  Rowley,  fuch  as  Odes,  Eclogues,  Dtfcwrfmg  Tra» 
gedies,  &c.  not  one  example  could  be  found  irr  England  in  the  fifteenth  century.  Plays,  if  any  exifted, 
were  nothing  more  than  a  ballad,  or  folitary  recital,  without  plot  or  dialogue,  and  incapable  of  re- 
prefentation. 

The  fimilarity  of  manner,  language,  verfification,  .&c.  in  the  poems  faid  to  have  been  written  by 
Canynge,  Sir  Thybbot  Gorges,  "John  Ifcam,  and  "John,  Abbot  of  St.  Auguftine,  who  is  faid  to  have  died 
in  1215,  is  an  objection  to  their  authenticity.  If  Rowley  poffcfled  a  talent  of  writing  melodioufly, 
unknown  to  his  contemporaries,  it  is  not  eafy  to  conceive  how  he  could  communicate  to  his  friends 
the  fame  miraculous  endowment.  All  Rowley's  friends  write  with  his  fpirit ;  their  lines  are  equally- 
harmonious,  and  the  verfification  has  the  fame  fufpicious  caft  of  modern  manufacture.  Sir  Tbybbot 
Gorges  fings  with  the  clTe  and  airinefs  of  a  poet,  who  has  only  antiquity  in  the  fpelling  of  his 
name. 

Mie  hufbande,  Lord  Thomas,  a  fbrrefter  boulde, 
As  ever  clove  pynne  or  the  bafkette,  &c. 

Dynge  MaiJIre  Canynge  is  a  poet  fo  much  like  the  gode friffle,  that  Dr.  Milles,  like  a  true  commenta 
tor,  fuppofes,  that  "  Rowley  might  give  his  friend  and  patron  the  credit  of  the  performance."  The 
fame  pen  undoubtedly  produced  what  is  called  Canynge 'j,  &c.  as  well  as  what  is  called  Rowley's;  but 
that  pen  was  Chatterton's. 

Such  is  the  conclufion  which  the  prefent  writer  has  formed,  from  an  examination  of  the  argu 
ments  on  both  fides  of  this  curious  literary  queftion.  He  hefitates  not  to  declare,  that  his  opinion 
refpecting  the  a-uthenticity  of  the  poems  is  on  the  fide  of  thofe  who  fupport  the  title  of  Chatterton. 
Mr.  Warton  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  have  convicted  them  of  being  fpuriousj  by  technical  criterions. 
He  efteemed  it,  therefore,  a  part  of  his  duty  to  arrange  them  with  the  compofitions  of  a  modern  era. 
But,  though  he  cannot  entertain  a  doubt  but  that  they  were -written  by  Chatterton,  yet  he  means 


THE  LIFE  OF  CHATTERTON.  319 

not  to  didate  to  others.  He  has  expreffed  his  dificnt  from  the  opinion  of  thofe  who  defend  their 
authenticity,  without  being  influenced  by  the  authority  of  names.  He  has  ftated  his  obfervations  as 
they  rofe  in  his  mind,  from  a  confidcration  of  the  fads,  without  being  influenced  by  the  force  of  ri 
dicule.  He  has  expreffed  his  feelings  as  thofe  of  a  reader,  who,  though  he  refpects  the  ftudy  of  an 
tiquities,  diflikes  the  blind  prejudices  of  the  mere  antiquary.  It  was  impoflible  for  him  to  perufc  a 
ftate  of  this  controverfy,  without  fmiling  at  the  delufion  and  gravity  of  thofe  learned  gentlemen, 
who  have  all  their  lives  dealt  in  uncouth  lore,  and  not  in  our  claflic  authors,  nor  have  perceived  that 
tafte  had  not  developed  itfelf  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  The  queftion,  in  his  opinion,  is  as  much 
a  matter  of  tafte  as  it  is  of  learning,  and  is  more  to  be  decided  by  internal  evidence  than  by  external 
fa<5ts.  The  man  of  tajle ,  who  has  a  moderate  at  leaft,  if  not  a  critical  knowledge  of  the  compofitions 
of  our  poets  from  Chaucer  to  Pope,  feels  every  argument  on  this  head  to  be  decifive,  by  an  emotion 
which  is  fuperior  to  all  laboured  reafonings,  but  which,  neverthelcfs,  every  reafon  and  every  exami 
nation,  ftill  more  ftrongly  ferve  to  fupport.  It  is  the  tafte  in  the  poems  of  the  fuppofed  Rowley  that 
•will  for  ever  exclude  them  from  belonging  to  the  period  in  which,  it  is  faid,  they  were  written.  Su 
periority  of  genius  could  not  poflibly  have  produced  any  thing  fo  perfect:  and  refined,  in  language, 
ftruclure,  and  fentiment,  as  thofe  poems,  by  any  native  effort  of  its  own,  unaflifted  by  preceding  im 
provements,  and  independent  of  all  models ;  for  poetry,  like  other  branches  of  literature  and  fcience, 
has  its  gradual  acceflions,  is  influenced  by  the  condition  of  fociety,  affumes  accidental  and  arbitrary 
forms,  and  is  fubjedl  to  new  and  peculiar  modifications. 

"  It  is  not,"  fays  Dr.  Warton,  "  from  the  complexion  of  ink  or  of  parchment,  from  the  informa 
tion  of  contemporaries,  the  tales  of  relations,  the  recollection  of  apprentices,  and  the  prejudices  of 
friends,  nor  even  from  Doomfday  Book,  pedigrees  in  the  heralds  office,  armorial  bearings,  parlia 
mentary  rolls,  inquifitions,  indentures,  cpifcopal  regifters,  epitaphs,  tomb-ftoncs,  and  brafs-platcs, 
that  this  controverfy  is  to  be  finally  and  effectually  adjufted.  Our  argument  fhould  be  drawn  from 
principles  of  tafte,  from  analogical  experimens,  from  a  familiarity  with  ancient  poetry,  and  from 
the  gradations  of  compofition.  Such  a  proof,  excluding  all  imposition,  liable  to  no  deception,  and 
proceeding  upon  abftracted  truth,  will  be  the  fureft  demonftration.  A  man  furnifhed  with  a  juft, 
.portion  of  critical  difcernment,  and  in  the  mean  time  totally  unacquainted  with  the  hiftory  of  thefe 
^oerns,  is  fufficiently,  perhaps  moft  properly,  qualified  to  judge  of  their  authenticity.  To  fuch  a  per- 
fon,  unprepared  and  unprejudiced  as  he  is  by  any  previous  intelligence,  and  a  ftranger  to  facts,  let 
the  poems  be  fhown.  I  can  eafily  conceive  to  which  fide  of  the  queftion  he  will  incline.  Nor  will 
he  afterwards  fuffer  his  opinion  to  be  influenced  by  reports.  External  arguments,  fuch  at  leaft  as 
have  hitherto  appeared,  may  be  ufeful,  but  they  are  not  neceffary.  They  will  hang  out  lights  fome- 
times  falfe,  and  frequently  feeble.  In  the  prefcnt  cafe,  external  arguments  have  feldom  ferved  to  any 
other  purpofe  than  to  embarafs  our  reafoning,  to  miflead  the  inquifitive,  and  to  amufe  the  ignorant." 

At  the  fhrine  of  Chatterton  fome  grateful  incenfe  has  been  offered  by  the  moft  elegant  and  pa» 
thetic  poets  of  our  nation.  Mr.  Pye,  the  prefent  poet  laureat,  thus  fpeaks  of  Chatterton,  in  his 
elegant  and  claflical  poem  on  the  "  Progrefs  of  Refinement." 

Yet  as  with  ftreaming  eye  the  forrowing  mufe 
Pale  Ckatftrton's  untimely  urn  bedews, 
Her  accents  fhall  arraign  the  partial  care 
That  fliielded  not  her  fon  from  cold  defpair. 

Mr.  Prefton,  an  elegant  poet  of  a  neighbouring  kingdom,  has  diftinguilhed  Chatterton  among  the 
««  martyrs  of  the  lyre,"  in  his  pathetic  "  Epiftlc  to  a  Young  Gentleman,  on  his  having  addufted  him- 
felf  to  the  Study  of  Poetry." 

Behold  yon  fhade !  he  bears  an  antique  roll, 
With  many  a  fcutcheon  clad  and  many  a  fcroll ! 
*Tis  he,  the  wond'rous  youth  of  Briftoiue's  plain, 
Who  pour'd  in  Rowley  s  garb  hisfolemn  ftrainj 
A  ilripling  fcarcely,  and  yet  more  than  man ; 
His  race  was  ended  ere  it  well  began. 
Th'  indignant  fpirit  tower'd  o'er  little  men  ; 
He  look'd  through  nature  with  an  angel's  ken, 
And  fcorn'd  with  confcious  pride  this  petty  ftage, 
The  tardy  homage  of  a  thanklefs  age. 
The  furies  wrung  his  agonizing  foul, 
dcfperation  mix'd  the  Stygian  bowl, 


jao  THE   LIFE   OF   CHATTERTON. 

The  following  lines  in  Mr.  Hay  ley's  excellent  "  Effay  on  Epic  Poetry"  are  uncommonly  ani» 

mated  and  poetical. 

If  changing  times  fuggeft  the  pleafing  hope 
That  burds  no  more  with  adverfe  fortune  cope; 
That  in  this  alter'd  clime,  where  arts  increafe, 
And  make  our  polifh'd  ifle  a  fecond  Greece ; 
That  now,  if  poefy  proclaims  h-r  fon, 
And  challenges  the  wreath  by  fancy  won  ; 
Both  fame  and  wealth  adopt  him  as  thtir  heir, 
And  liberal  grandeur  makes  his  life  her  care ; 
From  fuch  vain  thoughts  thy  erring  mind  defend, 
And  look  on  Cbatterton's  difaftrous  end. 
Oh,  ill-ftarr'd  youth,  whom  nature  form'd  in  vain, 
With  powers  on  Pindus*  fplendid  height  to  reign ! 
O  dread  example  of  what  pangs  await 
Young  genius  flruggling  with  malignant  fate ! 
What  could  the  mule,  who  fir'd  thy  infant  frame, 
With  the  rich  promife  of  poetic  fame ; 
Who  taught  thy  hand  its  magic  art  to  hide, 
And  mock  the  infolence  of  critic  pride ; 
What  could  her  unavailing  cares  oppofe, 
To  fave  her  darling  from  his  defperate  foes; 
From  preffing  want's  calamitous  controul, 
And  pride,  the  fever  of  the  ardent  foul  ? 
Ah,  fee,  too  confcious  of  her  failing  power, 
She  quits  her  nurfling  in  his  deathfnl  hour  ! 
In  a  chill  room,  within  whofe  wretched  wall 
No  cheering  voice  replies  to  mifery's  call ; 
Near  a  vile  bed,  too  crazy  to  fuilain 
Misfortune's  wafted  limbs,  convuls'd  with  pain, 
On  the  bare  floor,  with  heaven-directed  eyes, 
The  haplefs  youth  in  fpeechlefs  horror  lies ! 
The  pois'nous  vial,  by  diftraction  drain'd, 
Rolls  from  his  hand,  in  wild  contortion  (Irain'd: 
Pale  with  life-wafting  pangs,  its  dire  effect, 
And  ftung  to  madnefs  by  the  world's  neglect, 
He,  in  abhorrence  of  the  dangerous  art, 
Once  the  dear  idol  of  his  glowing  heart, 
Tears  from  his  harp  the  vain  detefted  wires, 
And  in  the  frenzy  of  defpair  expires ! 

Nor  have  the  critical  writers  been  backward  in  commendation  of  Chatterton. 

Mr.  Warton  fpeaks  of  him  as  "  a  prodigy  of  genius,"  as  "  a  fingular  inftance  of  prematurity 
of  abilities."  He  adds,  that  "  he  poffefled  a  comprehenfion  of  mind,  and  an  activity  of  under- 
ftanding,  which  predominated  over  his  fituation  in  life,  and  his  opportunities  of  inftruction."  And 
Mr.  Malonc  "  believes  him  to  have  been  the  greateft  genius  that  England  has  produced  fince  the 
days  of  Shakfpeare."  Dr.  Gregory,  to  whom,  in  the  courfe  of  this  narrative,  the  prefent  writer1 
has  had  many  obligations,  fays,  "  he  muft  rank,  as  an  univcrfal  genius,  above  Dry  den,  and  perhaps 
only  fecond  to  Shakfpeare."  Mr.  Croft  is  ftill  more  unqualified  in  his  praifes.  He  afferts,  that 
"  no  fuch  human  being,  at  any  period  of  life,  has  ever  been  known,  or  poflibly  ever  will  be  known.'1 
He  runs  a  parallel  between  Chatterton  and  Milton ;  and  afferts,  "  an  army  of  Macedonian  and 
Swedifh  mad  butchers  indeed  fly  before  him ;  nor  does  my  memory  fupply  me  with  any  human 
being,  who  at  fuch  an  age,  with  fuch  difadvantages,  has  produced  fuch  compofitions.  Under  the 
Heathen  mythology,  fuperftition  and  admiration  would  have  explained  all,  by  bringing  Apollo  on 
earth;  nor  would  the  god  ever  have  defcended  with  more  credit  to  himfelf." 

The  teftimony  of  Dr.  Knox  ("  Eflay"  144),  does  equal  credit  to  the  clafllcal  tafte  and  amiable 
benevolence  of  the  writer,  and  the  genius  and  reputation  of  Chatterton. 

"  When  I  read  the  refearches  of  thofe  learned  antiquaries  who  have  endeavoured  to  prove  that 
the  poems  atributed  to  Rowley  were  really  written  by  him,  I  obferve  many  ingenious  remarks  in 
confirmation  of  their  opinion,  which  it  would  be  tedious,  if  not  difficult,  to  controvert ;  but  I  no 
focncr  turn  to  the  poems,  than  the  labour  of  the  antiquaries  appears  only  wafte  of  time,  and  I  am 


THE   LIFE    OF   CHATTERTON. 

involuntarily  forced  to  join  in  placing  that  laurel,  which  he  fcems  fo  well  to  have  deferved,  on  the 
brow  of  Chatterton. 

"  The  poems'bear  fo  many  marks  of  fuperior  genius,  that  they  have  defervedly  excited  the  gene- 
ral  attention  of  polite  fcholars,  and  are  confidered  as  the  mod  remarkable  productions  in  modern 
poetry.  We  have  many  inft  ances  of  poetical  eminence  at  an  early  age ;  but  neither  Cowley,  Milton 
nor  Pope,  ever  produced  any  thing  while  they  were  boys,  which  can  juftly  be  compared  to  the  po 
ems  of  Chatterton.  The  learned  antiquaries  do  not  indeed  difpute  their  excellence.  They  extol  it 
in  the  higheft  terms  of  applaufe.  They  raife  their  favourite  Rowley  to  a  rivalry  with  Homer;  but 
they  make  the  very  merit  of  the  works  an  argument  againft  the  real  author.  Is  it  poflibje,  fay  they, 
that  a  boy  could  produce  compofitions  fo  beautiful  and  fo  mafterly  ?  That  a  common  boy  ihould 
produce  them  is  not  poflible ;  but  that  they  fhould  be  produced  by  a  boy  of  an  extraordinary  genius, 
fuch  a  genius  as  was  that  of  Homer  and  Shakfpeare ;  fuch  a  genius  as  appears  not  above  once  in  ma 
ny  centuries;  though  a  prodigy,  is  fuch  an  one  as  by  no  means  exceeds  the  bounds  of  rational  credit 
bility. 

"  That  Chatterton  was  fuch  a  genius,  his  manners  and  his  life  in  fome  degree  evince.  He  had  all 
the  tremulous  fenfibility  of  genius,  all  its  eccentricities,  all  its  pride,  and  all  its  fpirit.  Even  his 
death,  unfortunate  and  wicked  as  it  was,  difplayed  a  haughtinefs  of  foul,  which  urged  him  to  fpura 
a  world,  where  even  his  exalted  genius  could  not  vindicate  him  from  contempt,  indigence,  and  con 
tumely. 

"  Unfortunate  boy  !  fliort  and  evil  were  thy  days,  but  thy  fame  fhall  be  immortal.  Hadft  thou, 
been  known  to  the  munificent  patrons  of  genius— 

"  Unfortunate  boy',  poorly  waft  thou  accomodated  during  thy  fhort  fojourning  among  us;— 
rudely  waft  thou  treated,— forely  did  thy  feeling  foul  fufier  from  the  fcorn  of  the  unworthy ;  and 
there  are,  at  laft,  thofe  who  wifli  to  rob  thee  of  thy  only  meed,  thy  pofthumous  glory.  Severe  too 
are  the  cenfures  of  thy  morals.  In  the  gloomy  moments  of  defpondency,  1  fear  thou  haft  uttered  im 
pious  and  blafphemous  thoughts,  which  none  can  defend,  and  which  neither  thy  youth,  nor  thy 
fiery  fpirit,  nor  thy  Ctuation,  can  excufe.  But  let  thy  more  rigid  cenfors  reflect,  that  thou  waft  li 
terally  and  ftrictly  but  a  boy.  Let  many  of  thy  bittereft  enemies  reflect  what  were  their  own  re 
ligious  principles,  and  whether  they  had  any,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  fifteen,  and  fixteen.  Surely  it 
is  a  fevere  and  an  unjuft  furmife,  that  thou  wouldft  probably  have  ended  thy  life  as  a  victim  of  the 
Jaws,  if  then  hadft  not  finifhed  it  as  thou  didft ;  fmce  the  very  act  by  which  thou  durft  put  an  end 
to  thy  painful  exiftence,  proves  that  thou  thoughteft  it  better  to  die,  than  to  fupport  life  by  theft  or 
violence. 

"  The  fpeculative  errors  of  a  boy  who  wrote  from  the  fudden  fuggeftions  of  paflion  or  defpon 
dency,  who  is  not  convicted  of  any  immoral  or  difhoneft  act  in  confequence  of  his  fpcculations, 
ought  to  be  configned  to  oblivion.  But  there  feems  to  Be  a  general  and  inveterate  diflike  to  the  boy, 
exclufively  of  the  poet;  a  diflike  which  many  will  be  ready  to  impute,  and,  indeed,  riot  without  the 
appearance  of  reafon,  to  that  infolence  and  envy  of  the  little  great,  which  cannnot  bear  to  acknow* 
ledge  fo  tranfcendent  and  commanding  a  fuperiority  in  the  humble  child  of  want  and  obfcurity. 

"  Malice,  if  there  was  any,  may  furely  now  be  at  reft ;  for  "  Cold  he  lies  in  the  grave  below." 
But  where  were  ye,  O  ye  friends  to  genius,  when,  flung  with  difappointment,  diftrefled  for  food  and 
raiment,  with  every  frightful  form  of  human  mifery  painted  on  his  fine  imagination,  poor  Chatter- 
ton  funk  in  defpair  ?  Alas !  ye  knew  him  not  then,  and  now  it  is  too  late,-  - 

For  now  he  is  dead, 
Gone  to  his  death-bed, 
All  under  the  willow  tree. 

So  fang  the  fweet  youth,  in  as  tender  an  elegy  as  ever  flowed  from  a  feeling  heart. 

"  In  return  for  the  pleafure  I  have  received  from  thy  poems,  I  pay  thee,  poor  boy,  the  trifling  tri 
bute  of  my  praife.  Thyfelf  thou  haft  emblazoned ;  thine  own  monument  thou  haft  erected.  But 
they  whom  thou  haft  delighted,  feel  a  pleafure  in  vindicating  thine  honours  from  the  rude  attacki 
of  detraction.  Thy  fentiments,  thy  verfe,  thy  rhyme,  all  are  modern,  all  Sre  thine.  By  the  help  of 
gloflaries  and  dictionaries,  and  the  perufal  of  many  old  Englifh  writers,  thou  haft  been  able  to  tranf- 
late  the  language  of  the  prefent  time  into  that  of  former  centuries.  Thou  haft  built  an  artificial 
Voi.  XI,,  i  V 


)ia]  THE  LIFE   OF  CHATTERTON. 

ruin.  The  ftones  are  moffy  and  old,  the  whole  fabric  appears  really  antique  to  the  diftant  and  the 
carelefs  fpectator ;  even  the  connoifleur,  who  pores  with  fpeclacles  on  the  {ingle  ftones,  and  infpe&a 
the  mofly  concretions  with  an  antiquarian  eye,  boldly  authenticates  its  antiquity ;  but  they  who  exa 
mine  without  prejudice,  and  by  the  criterion  of  common  fenfe,  clearly  difcover  the  cement  and  the 
workmanfhip  of  a  modern  mafon." 

««  O !  Genius,"  elegantly  apoftrophizes  Mr.  Dyer,  in  his  humane  and  fenfible  «  Diflertation  on 
Benevolence,"  1795,  "  art  thou  to  be  envied  or  pitied?  Doomed  to  form  expectations  the  moft 
fenguine,  and  to  meet  with  difappointments  the  moft  mortifying  ?  To  indulge  towards  others  the 
moft  generous  wiflie«,  to  receive  thyfelf  the  moft  illiberal  treatment  ?  To  be  applauded,  admired, 
and  neglected  ?  To  be  a  friend  to  all,  befriended  often  by  none  ?  Oh,  thou  creative,  difcriminating 
power,  fource  of  inexpreffible  delights,  and  nurfe  of  unknown  fenfibilities,  that  perpetruate  diftrefs. 
Fancy  fhall  embody  thy  form,  and  often  vifit  the  grave  of  Cbattsrtan^  to  drop  the  tear  of  fympathy 
over  that  ingenious,  unfriended,  and  unfortunate  youth !" 


PREFACE, 


TO    TrfE 


Firft  Edition,  8vo,  1777,  publiflied  by  THOMAS  TYRWHITT,  Efq. 


1  HE  poems  which  make  the  principal  part  of  this 
collection,  have  for  fome  time  excited  much  cu- 
riofity,  as  the  fiippoled  productions  of  Thomas 
Rowley,  a  prieft  01  Briftol,  HI  the  reigns  of  Henry 
VI.  and  Edward  IV.  They  are  here  faithfully 
printed  from  the  moft  authentic  MSS.  that  could 
be  procured  ;  of  which  a  particular  dtfcription  is 
given,  in  the  introductory  account  of  the  feveral 
pieces  contained  in  this  volume,  fuhjoined  to  this 
preface.  Nothing  more,  therefore,  feems  necelTary 
at  prefent,  than  to  inform  the  reader  fliortly  of  the 
manner  in  which  thefe  poems  were  lirft  brought 
to  light,  and  of  the  authority  upon  which  they  are 
afcribed  to  the  perfons  whofe  names  they  bear. 

This  cannot  be  done  fo  fatisfactorily  as  in  the 
words  of  Mr.  George  Catcott  of  Briftol,  to  whofe 
very  laudable  zeal  the  public  is  indehted  for  the 
moft  confiderable  part  of  the  following  collection. 
His  account  of  the  matter  is  this  :  "  The  firft  dif-> 
"  covery  of  certain  MSS.  having  been  depofited 
"  in  Redclift  church,  above  three  centuries  ago, 
"  was  made  in  the  year  1768,  at  the  time  of 
"  opening  the  new  bridge  at  Briftol,  and  was  ow- 
"  ing  to  a  publication  in  Farley's  Weekly  Jour- 
"  nal,  r(t  October  1768,  containing  An  account  of 
"  the  ceremonies  obferved  at  the  opening  of  the 
"  old  bridge,  taken,  as  it  was  faid,  from  a  very 
"  ancient  MS.  This  excited  the  curiofity  of  fome 
"  perfons  to  inquire  after  the  original.  The  print- 
"  er,  Mr.  Farley,  could  give  no  account  of  it,  or 
"  of  the  perfon  who  brought  the  copy  ;  but,  after 
"  much  inquiry,  it  was  discovered,  that  the  per- 
44  fon  who  brought  the  copy  was  a  youth  between 
•"  fifteen  asd  fixteen  years  of  age,  whofe  narue 
"  was  Thomas  Chatterton,  and  whofe  family  had 
"  been  fextons  of  Redciift  church  for  near  150 
"  years.  His  father,  who  was  now  dead,  had  alfo 
"  been  mafter  of  the  free-fchnol  in  Pile-ftreet. 
"  The  young  man  was  at  firft  very  unwilling  to 
'  difeover  from  whence  he  had  the  original ;  but, 

*  after  many  promifes  made  to  him,  he  was  at 
4    laft  prevailed  on  to  acknowledge  th?.t  he  had 
'    received  this,  together  with  many  other  MSS. 
'    from  his  father,  who  had  found  them  in  a  large 

*  cheft  in  an  upper  room  over  the  chapel  on  the 
"  north  fide  of  Redchft  church.'' 

Soon  after  this,  Mr.  Catcott  commenced  his  ac 
quaintance  with  young  Chatterton  ;  and,  partly 
as  prefents,  partly  as  purchafes,  procured  from  him 
copies  of  many  of  his  MSS.  in  profe  and  verfe. 
Other  copies  were  difpofed  of,  in  the  fame  way, 
to  Mr.  William  Barrett,  an  eminent  furgeon  at 
Briltol,  who  has  long  been  engaged  in  writing  the 
hiftory  of  that  city.  Mr.  Barrett  aliio  procured  j 

VOL.  XL 


from  him  feveral  fragments,  fome  of  a  confuler- 
able  length,  written  upon  vellum,  which  he  af- 
ferted  to  be  part  of  his  original  MSS.  In  fliort, 
in  the  (pace  of  about  eighteen  months,  from  Oc 
tober  1768  to  Apiil  1770,  befides  the  poems  now 
publiihed,  be  produced  as  many  competitions,  in 
profe  and  verle,  under  the  names  of  Rowley,  Ca- 
nynge,  &.c.  sts  would  nearly  till  fuch.  another  vo 
lume. 

In  April  1770,  Chatterton  went  to  London,  and 
died  there  in  tiie  Auguft  following ;  fo  that  the 
whole  hiftory  of  this  very  extraordinary  tranfac- 
tion  cannot  now  probably  be  known  with  any  cer 
tainty.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  part  in  it ; 
whether  he  was  the  author,  or  only  the  copier  (as 
he  cortltantly  aflerted),  of  all  thefe  produAions,  lie 
appears  to  have  kept  the  fecret  entirely  to  himfelf, 
and  not  to  have  put  it  in  the  power  of  any  other 
perfon  to  bear  certain  teftimony  either  to  his  fraud, 
or  to  his  veracity: 

The  queftion,  therefore, concerning  the  authen 
ticity  of  thefe  poems,  muft  now  be  decided  by  an 
examination  of  the  fragments  upon  vellum,  which 
Mr.  Barrett  received  from  Chatterton  as  part  of 
his  original  MSS.  and  by  the  internal  evidence 
which  the  feveral  pieces  afford.  l£  the  fragments 
fliall  be  judged  to  be  genuine,  it  will  ftill  remain 
to  be  determined,  how  far  their  genuinenefs  fliould 
ferve  to  authenticate  the  reft  of  the  collection,  of 
which  no  copies,  older  than  thofe  made  by  Chat- 
tertort,  have  ever  been  produced.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  the  writing  of  the  fragments  (hall  be1  judg 
ed  to  be  counterfeit,  and  forged  by  Chatterton,  it 
will  not  of  neceflity  follow,  that  the  matter  of  them 
was  aifo  forged  by  him,  and  ftill  lei's  that  all  the 
other  compolitions,  which  he  profefled  to  have 
copied  from  ancient  MSS.  were  merely  inventions 
of  his  own.  In  either  cafe,  the  decifion  muft  final 
ly  depend  upon  the  internal  evidence. 

It  may  be  expected,  perhaps,  that  the  editor 
fliould  give  an  opinion  upon  this  important  quef 
tion  ;  but  he  rather  choofes,  for'many  reafous,  to 
leave  it  to  the  determination  of  the  unprejudiced 
and  intelligent  reader.  He  had  long  been  defi- 
rousthat  thefe  poems  fhould  be  printed;  and  there- 
fore  readily  undertook  the  charge  of  fuperintend- 
ing  the  edition.  This  he  has  executed  in  the  man 
ner  which  feemed  to  him  beft  fuited  to  fuch  a  pub 
lication  ;  and  here  he  means  that  his  tafk  fhouhl 
end.  Whether  the  poems  be  really  ancient  or  mo 
dern,  the  compofitions  of  Rowley,  or  the  forgeries 
of  Chatterton,  they  muft  always  be  confider*  as 
a  moft  fingular  literary  curioiity. 


3  23 


INTRODUCTORY  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SEVERAL  PIECES. 


INTRODUCTORY  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SEVERAL  PIECES. 


ECLOGUE  THE  FIRST. 
ECLOGUE  THE  SECOND. 
ECLOGUE  THE  THIRD. 

Thefe  three  eclogues  are  printed  from  a  MS. 
furniflied  by  Air.  Catcott,  in  the  hand-writing  of 
Thomas  Chatterton.  It  is  a  thin  copy-book  in  410, 
with  the  following  title  in,  the  tuft  page.  "  Ec 
logues,  mid  other  poems,  by  Thomas  Rowley,  with 
a  Glotlary  and  Annotations,  by  Thomas  Chatter- 
ton.'' 

There  is  only  one  other  poem  iruthis  book,  viz. 
fche  fragment  of  "  Goddwyn,  a  Tragedie.'* 

ELINOURE  AND  JUGA. 

This  poem  is  reprinted  from  the  Town  and 
Country  Magazine  for  May  1760,  p.  273.  It  is 
there  intituled,  "  Eliuoure  and  Juga.  Written 
three  hundred  years  ago  by  T.  Rowley,  Secular 
Prieft."  And  it  has  the  following  fubfcription  : 
"  D.  B.  Briftol,  May  1769."  Chatterton  fooo 
after  told  Mr.  Catcott,  that  he  (Chatterton)  in- 
ierted  it  in  the  magazine. 

The  prefent  editor  has  taken  the  liberty  to  fup- 
ply  (between  hooks)  the  names  of  the  fpeakers,  at 
ver.  -11.  and  20,  which  had  probably  been  omitted 
by  feme  accident  in  the  firft  publication,  as  the 
nature  of  the  compofition  feems  to  require  that 
the  dialogue  fliould  proceed  by  alternate  ftanzas. 

VERSES  TO  LYDGATE. 
SONGE  TO  /ELLA, 
LYDGATZ'S  ANSWER. 

Thefe  three  fmall  poems  are  printed  from  a 
copy  in  Mr.  Catcott's  hand-writing.  Since  they 
•were  printed  off,  the  editor  has  had  an  opportu 
nity  of  comparing  them  with  a  copy  made  by  Mr. 
Barrett  from  the  piece  of  vellum,  which  Chatter- 
ton  formerly  gave  to  him  as  the  original  MS. 
The  variations  of  importance  (exclufive  of  many 
in  the  fuelling),  are  fet  down  below  *. 

*  Verfes  to  Lydgate. 

Tn  the  title  for  Ladgate,  r.  Lydgate. 
Ver.  2.     r.  That  U  and  tbee. 
3.  for  lee,  r.  goe. 
7;  hrfygbte,  r.  wryte. 
Songs  to  JUllii. 

The  title  in  the  vellum  MS.  was  (imply  "  Songe 
toe  jSlle,"  with  i  ftnall  mark  of  reference  to  a 
.  r.ote  below,    containing    the  following  Words — 
"  Lorde  of  the  calteile  of  Bryftowe  ynn  daies  of 
yore."    It  may  b«  proper  dib  to  take  notice,  that 
the  whole  t'ong  was  there  written  like  profe,wi:h- 
tut  any  breaks,  or  divifions  into  verles. 
ft '      Ver.  6.  for  braftynge,  r.  buylynge. 
li.  for  valyante ,  t.burlic. 
23.  for  dyjirial!,  r.  honors* 
Lydgate's  anfwir. 
Uft  title  in  the  vellujtf  MS. 


THE  TOURNAMENT. 

This  poem  is  printed  from  a  copy  made  by  Mr. 
Catcott,  from  one  in  Chatterton's  hand-writing. 

Sir  Simon  de  Bourton,  the  hero  of  this  poem,  ij 
fuppofed  to  have  been  the  full  founder  of  a  church 
dedicated  to  oure  Ladie,  in  the  place  where  the 
church  of  St.  Mary  Ratcliffe  now  (tands.  Mr. 
Barrett  has  a  fmall  leaf  of  vellum  (given  to  him 
by  Chatterton,  as  one  of  Rowley's  original  MSS.), 
intituled,  "  Vita  de  Simon  de  .Bourton  ;"  in  which 
Sir  Simon  is  faid,  as  in  the  poem,  to  have  begun 
his  foundation,  in  confequence  of  a  vow  made  at  a 
tournament. 

THE  DETHE  OF  SYR  CHARLES  BAWDIN. 

This  poem  is  reprinted  from  the  copy  printed 
at  London  in  1772,  with  a  few  corrections  from 
a  copy  made  by  Mr.  Catcott,  from  one  in  Chat 
terton's  hand-writing. 

The  perfon  here  celebrated  under  the  name  of 
Syr  Charles  Bawdin,  was  probably  Sir  Baldewyn 
Fulford,  Knt.  a  zealous  Lancaftrian,  who  was  ex 
ecuted  at  Briftol  in  the  latter  end  of  1461,  the 
firft  year  of  lidwatd  the  Fourth.  He  was  attaint 
ed,  with  many  others,  in  the  general  acl  of  attain 
der,  r  Edw.  IV. ;  but  he  feems  to  have  been  exe 
cuted  under  a  fpecial  coin n;i ffion  for  the  trial  of 
treafons,  Sec.  within  the  town  of  Briftol.  The 
fragment  of  theold  Chronicle, publiflied  by  Hearne 
at  the  end  of  Sprotti  Chronica,  p.  289,  fays,  "Item 
the  fame  yere  (i  Edw.  IV.),  was  takin  SirBalde- 
wine  Fulford,  and  behedid  at  Bnftow.'1 

JEn,A,  a  c£ragycal  Enterlude. 
This  poem,  with  the  epiftle,  letter,  and  entro- 
duclionne,  ii  printed  from  a  folio  MS,  furnifhed  by 
Mr.  Catcott ;  in  the  beginning  of  which  he  has 
written  '•  Chatterton's  Tranfcript,  1765."  The 
whole  tranfeript  is  of  Chatterton's  hand-writing. 

Ver.  .T.  for  varfes,  r.  pent. 

Antep.  for  Lcndes,  r.  Sendes. 

Ult.       for  lyae,  r.  tbyitge. 
Mr.  Barrett  had  alfo  a  copy  of  thefe  poems  by 
Chatferton,  Wh-ich  differed  from  that  which  Chat 
terton  afterwards  produced  as  the  original,  in  the 
following  particulars,  among  others. 

In  the  title  of  the  Verfes  to  Lydgate. 
Orig.  Lydgate.         Chat.  Ladgate. 
Orig.  goe.  Chat.  doe.    . 

7.  Orig.  ivryt'e.  C\izi.fygltc. 

Songe  to  -I'Ella, 
Ver.  5.  Orig..  Dacyane-  '     Chat.  Dacy's. 

Orig.  luhofe  lockes.  Ghat,  ivboj'e  layra 
1  I.   Orig.  burlie.  Chat,  brbtided. 

az.  Orig.  kennfi.  Chat.  hear/. 

21.  dig.  bonore.  CJiat.  dy final. 

1.6.  Orig.  Ypr'auntyage.  Chzt.frayniug. 
30.  Orig.  gloue*  Chat,  glare. 


INTRODUCTORY  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SEVERAL  PIECES. 


3*3 


GODDWYN,  a  Tragidie. 

This  fragment  is  printed  from  the  MS.  men 
tioned  above,  in  Chatterton's  hand-writing. 

ENGF.YSH  METAMORPHOSIS. 
This  poem  is  printed  from  a  fir.gle   fhcet  in 
Chatterton's  hand-writing;,  communicated  by  Mr. 
Barrett,  who  received  it  from  Chatterton. 

BALAIJK  OF  CIIA'RITIJ. 

This  pot-m  is  alfo  printed  from  a  fmgle  {licet  in 
Chatterton's  hand-writing.  It  was  lent  to  the 
printer  of  the  Town  and  Country  Magazine,  with 
the  following  letter  prefixed. 

To  tie  printer  of  the  Toiun  and  Country  Magazine. 
"  SIR, 

"  IF  the  gloflary  annexed  to  the  following  piece 
will  make^the  language  intelligible,  the  fentiment. 
defcription,  and  verfification,  are  highly  defcrving 
the  attention  of  the  literati."1' 

Juty  4. 1770.  D.  B." 

BATTLE  OF  HASTINGS,  No.  r. 
BATTLE  OF  HASTINGS,  AV  1. 

In  printing  the  firft  of  thefe  poems,  two  copies 
have  been  made  ufe  of,  both  taken  from  copies  of 
Chatterton'shand-writing;  the  one  by  Mr.Catcott, 
and  the  other  by  Mr.  Barrett.  The  principal  dif 
ference  between  them  is  at  the  end,  where  the 
latter  has  fourteen  lines  from  ver.  550,  which  arc 
•wanting  in  the  former.  The  fecor.d  poem  is  print 
ed  from  a  ffrigle  copy,  made  by  Mr.  Barrett  from 
one  in  Chatterton's  hand-writing. 

It  (hould  be  obferved,  that  the  poem  marked 
No.  I.  was  given  to  Mr.  Barrett  by  Chatterton, 
with  the  following  title :  "  Battle  of  Mailings, 
wrote  by  Tnrgot  the  Monk,  a  Saxon,  in  the- Tenth 
Century ;  and  Tranflated  by  Thomas  Rowlie,  Pa- 
rifti-Precfte  of  St.  John's,  in  the  City  of  Briftol,  in 
the  year  1465. — The  remainder  of  the  Poem  I 
have  not  been  happy  enough/to  meet  with."  Be 
ing  afterwards  preil  by  Mr.  Barrett  to  produce 
any  part  of  this  poem  in  the  original  hand-writ 
ing,  he  at  laft  faid,  that  he  wrote  this  poem  him- 
felf  for  a  friend  ;  but  that  he  had  another,  the  co 
py  of  an  original  by  Rowley';  and  being  then  de- 
fired  to  produce  that  other  poem,  he,  after  a  con- 
fiderable  interval  of  time,  brought  to  Mr.  Barrett 
the  poem  marked  No.  z,  as  far  as  ver.  530.  inclu- 
five,  with  the  following  title:  "  Battle  of  Haf- 
tyngs,  by  Turgotus,  tranflated  by  Roulie  for  W. 
Canynge,  Efq."  The  lines  from  ver.  531.  iuclu- 
fivc,  were  brought  fome  time  after,  in  confequence 
of  Mr.  Barrett's  repeated  foiicitations  for  the  con- 
clufion  of  the  poem. 

QNN  UURR  LADIES  CHTRCHS. 
ON  THE  SAME. 

The  lirfl  of  thefe  poems  is  printed  from  a  copy 
made  by  Mr.  Catcott,  from  one  m  Chattmon'e 
.hand-writing. 

The  other  is  taken  from  a  MS.  in  Chatterton's 
Land- writing  furnijfaed  by  Mr.  Catcott,  intituled, 
"•  A  DifcoiTe  on  Eriftowe,  by  Thorns  RdwL'e." 

EPITAPH  ON  ROBERT. CAN v> 6 1. 
This  is'one  of  the  fragments  of  veiluni,  given 
by  C!'-.tix.rton  to  Mr.  J':'.rr?t:,  as  part  of  'hi;-  origi 
nal  ?  i 


THE  STORIE  OF  WILLIAM  CANYNGI. 


The  thirty-four  firft  lines  of  this  poem  are  ex 
tant  upon  another  of  the  vellum  fragments,  given 
by  Chatterton  to  Mr.  Barrett.  The  remainder  is 
printed  from  a  copy  furniihed  by  Mr.  Catcott, 
with  fomc  corrections  from  another  copy,  made 
by  Mr.  Barrett  from  one  in  Chatterton's  haud- 
vvrifing.  This  poem  makes  part  of  a  profe  worl?' 
attributed  to  Rowley  ;  giving  an  a.-£ount  of  pain 
ters*;  carvellers,  poets,  and  other  eminent  natives 
of  Briftol,  from  the  earlieft  times  to  hist  own.  Th«^ 
reader  may  fee  feveral  particulars  relating  to  him 
in  Cambden's  Britannia,  Somerfet'.  Col.  95.  Ry- 
mer's  Fcedera,  &c.  ann.  1449.  and  1450.  Tanner's 
Not.  Monaft.  Art.  Briftol  and  Wcftbury.  Dug- 
dale's  Warwickfhire,  p.  634. 

It  may  be  proper  juft  to  remark  here,  that  Mr. 
Canynge's  brother,  mentioned  in  ver.  129,  who 
was  Lord  Mayor  of  London  in  14.56,  is  called  Tho 
mas  by  Stowe,  in  his  Lift  of  Mayors,  &c. 

The  tranfa&ion  alluded  to  in  the  laft  ftanza,  ,it 
related  at  large  in  fome  profe  memoirs  of  Row 
ley,  of  which  a  very  incorrect  copy  has  been  print 
ed  in  the  Town  and  Country  Magazine  for  No 
vember  1775.  It  is  there  faid,  that  Mr  Canynge" 
went  into  orders,  to  avoid  a  marriage  propofed  by 
King  Edward,  between  him  and  a  lady  of  the 
Witidcvile  family.  It  is  certain  that  the  regif- 
tc:r  of  die  Bifhop  of  Worchefter,  that  Mr.  Canynge 
was  ordained  Acolythe  by  Bifliop  Carpenter,  on 
I9th  September  1467',  arid  received  the  higttrr 
orders  of  .Sub-Deacon,  Deacon,  and  Pricft,  on  the 
izth  of  March  1467,  O.  S.  the  ad  and  i6th  of 
April  1468,  respectively. 

ON  HAPPIEN»SS*,  ly  William  Caaynr;. 
ONNE  JOXXE  A  DAI.BENIE,  by  the  fame. 
THE  GOULER'S  REQUIEM,  4v  the  fame. 
THE  ACCOUNTS  OF  W.  CANYNGE'S  FEASTE. 

Of  thefe  four  poerrt j  attributed  to  Mr.  Canyn  je, 
the  three  firft  are  printed  from  Mr.  Catcott's  co 
pies.  The  laft  is  taken  from  a  fragment  of  vellum,' 
which  Chatterton  gave  to  Mr.  Barrett  as  an  origi 
nal.  The  editor  has  doubts  about  the  reading  of 
the  fccoud  word  in  ver.  7,  but  he  has  printed  it 
keene,  as  he  found  it  fo  in  other  copies. 

With  refpeci  to  the  three  friends  of  Mr.  Ca 
nynge  mentioned  in  the  laft  line,  the  name  of 
Rowley  is  fuiliciently  known  from  the  preceding 
poems.  Ifcamm  appears  as  an  a&or  in  the  tra 
gedy  of  JElla,  and  that  of  Goddwyn  ;  and  a 
po-.-m,  afcribed  to  him,  intituled,  "  The  Merry 
Trii-ks  of  Laymtogtoo,"  is  iuferled  in  the  "  Di£- 
corfe  of  Briftowe  "  Sir  Theobald  Gorges  was  a 
knight  of  au  ancient  rfimily  feated  at  WiaxhalV 
within  a  few  miles  of  Briftol.  ..See  Rot.  P..:u 
V  H  VI.  n.  28.  Leland's  Itin.  Vol.  VII.  p  eg. 
He  has  alfo  appeared  above-  as  an  aiSlor  in  both 
the  tragedies,  and  as  the  author  or .  one  of  .ths 
mynftrelles  fonaes  in  JElh.  His  connection  with 
FTF.'  "Can'yr-ge"  is  verified  by  tf  deed  of  the  latte*, 
dated  zoth  Oftobcr  1467:  in  which  he  gives  to 
truftees,  in  part  of  a  benefaction  ot  500!.  to  thp 
church  of  St.  Mary  Redxliffc,  "  certain  jewels  c.f 
«  Sir  Theobald  Gorges,  Knt."  whiclz  had  been 
•  pawned  to  his:  iof  i6al. 

X  ij 


THE  WORKS  OF  CHATTERTON. 


P  O  E  M*S. 

ADVIRT1SKMKNT  TO  TTRWHITT's  EDITIOS. 

Tat  reader  is  defired  to  obferve,  that  the  notes  at  the  bottom  of  the  feveral  pages,  throughout  true 
following  part  of  this  book,  are  all  copied  from  MSS.  in  the  hand-writing  of  Thomas  Chattertoa. 


ECLOGUE  I. 

Englonde,  fmeethynge  I  from  her 

lethal  a  wounde, 
From  her  galled  necke  dyd  twyttc  5  the  chayne 

awaic, 

Kennynge  her  legeful  fonnes  falle  all  arounde 
(Myghtie  theie  fell,  'twas  honoure  ledde  the 

fraie),  [graie 

Thanne  inne  a  dael,  bie  eve's  dark  furcote  4 
Twayne  lonelie  fhcpfterresj  dydabrodden  6  flie 
(The  royftlyng  liff  doth  theyr  whytte  hartes  af- 

fraie  7), 

And  wythe  the  owlette  trembled  and  dyd  crie; 
Firfte   Roberte    Neatherde    hys    fore    boefom 

flroke, 

^"hcn  fellen  on  the  grounde,  and  thus  yfpoke. 
Roberte. 

Ah,  Raufe !  gif  thos  the  howres  do  comme  a- 

longe, 

Gif  thos  wee  flie  in  chafe  of  farther  woe, 
Our  fote  wylle  fayle,  alheytte  wee  bee  ftronge, 
Ne  wylle  cure  pace  fwefte  as  oure  danger  goe. 
To  oure  grete  wronges  we  have  enheped  8  moe, 
The  baronncs  warre !  oh,  woe  and  weli-a-daic ! 
I  haveth  lyff,  bott  have  efcaped  foe, 
That  lyff  ytfel  mie  fenfes  doe  affraie. 
Oh,  Raufe  !   comme  lyfle,   and  hear  mie  der- 

nie  9  tale, 

Qomme  heare  the  baleful!  10  done  of  Robynne  of 
the  Dale. 

Raufe. 

Sale  to  mee  nete ;  I  kenne  thie  woe  in  myne  : 
O !  I've  a  tale  that  Sabalus  u  mote  ia  telle. 


I  Smithing,  fmoking ;  in  fome  copi 
bat  in  the  or*al  as  above.  a  deadly.  3  pluck 
or  pull,  ^furcate,  a  cloke  or  mantel,  which  hid 
all  the  other  drefs.  5  fhepherds.  6  abruptly  ;  fo 
Chaucer— Syke  he  abredden  dyd  attourne.  7  af 
fright.  8  Added.  9  fad.  jo  woeful,  lamentable. 
Si  the  devil.  12  might. 


Swote  13  flouretts,  mantled  meedows,  forefle* 

dygne  14 ; 
Gravots  15  far-kend  16  arounde  the  errmiets  17 

cell: 

The  fwote  ribible  18  dynning  19  yn  the  dell ; 
The  joyous  daunceynge  ynn   the   hoaitrie  ao 

courte ;  [well, 

Eke  ai  the  high  fonge  and  everych  joie  fare- 
Farewell  the  verie  made  of  fayre  dyfporte  aa  : 
Impeftering   aj   trobble  onn    mie    heade    doe 

comme, 
Ne  on  kynde  feyn<9e  to  warde  14  the  aye  25  en- 

creafynge  dome. 

Roberts. 
Oh  !    I  coulde  waile  mie  kynge-coppe-decked 

•   mees  a6, 

Mie  fpreedynge  flockes  of  fhepe  of  lillie  white, 
Mie   tendre  applynges  27,    and  embodye   28 

trtes,  ffyghte, 

Mie  Parker's  Grange  29,  far  fpreedynge  to  the 
Mie  cuyen  30  kyne  3 1,  mie  bullockes  flringe  ja 

yn  fyghte, 
Mie  gorne  33  emblaunched  34  with  the  com- 

frie  3  5  plante, 
Mie  fioure  3*  Seynfle  Marie  fhotteyng  wytlie 

the  lyghte,  [gr«*nt. 

Mie   ftore  of  all  the  bleffynges  Heaven  can 
I  amm  dureffed37  untoforrowesblowe, 
Ihanten'd  38  to  tlie  peyne,  will  Ictte  ne  finite  tcarc 

flowe. 


13  Sweet.  14  good,  neat,  genteel.  15  groves; 
fometimes  ufcd  for  a  coppice.  16  far  feen.  17  her 
mit.  xS  violin,  19  founding,  ao  inn,  or  public- 
houfe.  ai  alfo.  ^^  pleafure.  23  annoying.  14  to 
keep  off.  15  ever,  always.  26  meadows.  27  graft 
ed  trees.  28  thick,  ftout.  29  liberty  of  pafture 
given  to  the  parker.  30  tender.  31  cows.  32ftrong. 
33  garden.  34  whitened.  35  cumfrey,  a  favou 
rite  difh  at  that  time.  36  marygold.  37  harden 
ed.  38  accuftomed. 


Raufe. 

Here  I  wille  obaie  39  untylle  dethe  doe  'pert, 
Here  lyche  a  fcuJe  empoyfoned  l«athel  40  tree, 
Whyche  fleaeth4l   everyehone  that  commeth 

nere, 

Soe  wiij.-  I  fyxed  unto  thys  place  gre  42. 
I  to  be;cent43  haveth  moe  caufe  than  thee; 
Sleene  in  the  warre  rate  boolie  44  fadre  lies; 
Oh  '.   joieous  I  hys  mortherer  would  flea, 
Apd.big  hys  fyde  for  ale  endol'e  tnyne  eies. 
Calke-l^?    from   everych  joie,   heere  wvlle    I 
.  bledc;  (ftede. 

JPeUys  the  C'.illys-yatte  46  of'  mie  hartes  caftle 

Rvberte. 

Cure  VYoes  alyche,  aiyche  our  dome  47  fha.1  bee. 
Mie  foune,  mi«  fonne  qllsyn  48,  yftroven  49  ys. ; 
Here  wylle  J  ft&ie,  and  cod  mie  lyff  with  thee  ; 
A  lyfF  lyche  myne  a  borden  ys  ywis. 
Now  from  een  logges  jo  fledden  is  felynefs  51, 
'  Mynfterres  53  aiieyn  53  can  boafte  the  hallis  54 

feyn&e, 

Nowe  doah  SnjjloHde  weare  a  bloudie  drefle, 
And  wytb  her  champyonnes  gore  her  face  de- 

peync'te ; 

Peace  fledde,  diforder  fhoweth  her  dark  rode  55, 
And  thorow  ayr  doth  Hie,  yn  garments  fteyned 
with  bloude. 

ECLOGUE  It.. 

SPRYTES  i  of  the  blefte,  the  pious  Nygelle  fed, 
Jfoure  owte  yer  pleafaunce  a  onn  mie  fadres  hedde. 
Rycharde  of  Lyons  harte  to  fyghte  is  gon, 
Uporme  the  brede  3  fea  doe  the  banners  gleme4  ; 
The  amenufed  5  natiormes  be  afton  6, 
To  ken  7  fyke  8  large  a  flete,  fyke  fyne,  fyke 
breme  9.  (frreme  ; 

The  barkis  heafods  10  coupe  it  the  lymedii 
Oundes  13  fynkeynge  oundes  upon  the  hard  ake 

14  riefe ; 
The   water  flughornesr.5   wythe  a  fwotye  16 

cleme  1 7 

ContekeiS  the  djnnynge  19  tyre,  and  reche 

the  Ikies  [afledde  at, 

•Sprytes    of    the    blefte,    on    gouldyn    trones  70 

Paureowte  yer  pleal'annce  onn  njie  fadres  hedde. 

Thegule  udepeyndled  zjoaresfrom  the  black 

tyde,  [16  ryfe ; 

Decorn  24  wyth  fonnes  25  rare,  doe  Ciemrynge 


39  Abide.  This  line  isalfo  wrote—"  Here  wyll 
I  obaie  untill  dethe  appere ;"  but  this  is  modern-' 
ized.  40  deadly.  41  deftroyeth,  killeth.  43  grow. 
43  lament.  44  much  loved,  beloved.  45  caft  out, 
ejecled.  46  alluding  to  the  portcullis,  which 
guarded  the  gate,  on  which  often  depended  the 
caftle.  47  fate.  48  my  only  fon.  49  dead.  50  cot 
tages.  51  happinefi.  52  monafteries.  53  only. 
54  holy.  55  complexion. — i  Spirits,  fouh.  a  plea- 
lure.  3  broad.  4  fhine,  glimmer.  5  dim'mifhed,  lef- 
fened.  6  aftonifhed,  confounded.  7  fee,  difcover, 
know.  8  fuch,  fo.  9ftrong.  io  heads,  ncut. 
X  2  glafly,  reflecting.  13  waves,  billows.  14  oak. 
15  a  mufical  inftrument,  not  unlike  a  hautboy. 
j6fweet.  17  found.  iSconfufe,  contend  with. 
«9founding.  aothrones.  sneated.  aired.  23 paint 
ed,  24  carved.  85.  devices.  a6  glimmering. 


Upfwalynge  47  doe  hete  a8  fl.ewe  ynne  drierie 

pryde,  [fkyes ; 

Lyche  gore- red  eftells  49  in  the  eve  ?o  merk  31 
The  nome-depeyncled  33  fluelds,  the  fperes  a. 

ryfe, 

Alyke  33  ttlle  rofhes  on  the  water  f-  de 
Alenge  34    from    bark    to    bark  the  bryghte 

fheene  35  flyes;  [glyde. 

S-.veft-kerv'd  36   delyghtes  doe  on  the    water 
Sprites  of  the  blefte,  and  everich  faynfte  ydedde, 
Paure  owte  youre  pleafaunce  on  aiie  fadres  hedde. 
The  Sarafan  lokes  owte  :  he  doethe  feere, 
That  Englondes  brondecus37   fonnes  do  cotto 

the  waie. 
Lyke  honied  bockes,  tbeye  reineth  38  here  and 

there,  [obaie  40. 

Onknowlac'nynge39    inne     whatte    place     to 
The  banner  glefters  on  the  b:m<!  of  daic; 
The  mittee  41  croffe  Jerufalim  ys  feene ; 
Dhereof  the  fyghte  yer  corra^e  doe  affr?ie  4*, 
In  baleful!  43  dole  their  faces  be  y  wreene  44. 
Sprytes  of  the  blefte,  and  everich  feyncle  ydedde, 
Poure  owte  your  pleafaunce  on  mie  fadres  hedde. 
The  bollengers45  and  cotte$45,  foe  fwyfte  yn 

fyghte, 

Upon  the  fydes  of  ererich  bark  appere  ; 
Foorthe  to  his  offyce  lepethe  everych  knyghte, 
Eftfoones  46"  hys  fquyer,  with  hys  (hield  and  fpere. 
The    jynynge   filicides  doe  fhemre  and  moke 

glare  47;  fdynne ; 

The    dofheynge    oare   doe    make  gemoted48 
The  reyning  49  foemen  50,  thynckeynge  gif  j  I 

to  dare, 
Bounfa   the   merk53   fwerde,  theie  feche  to 

fraie  54,  theie  blyn  55. 

Sprytes  of  the  blefte,  and  everyche  feyncle  ydedde, 
Powre  outf:  yer  pleafaunce  onn  mie  fadres  hedde. 
Now  comm  the  warrynge  Sarafyns  to  fyghte; 
Kynge  Rycharde,  lyche  a  lyoncel  56  of  warre, 
lone    flieenyuge  goulde,    lyke  feerie  57  gron- 

fers  58,  dyghte  59, 

Shsketh  alofe  hys  honde,  and  feene  afarre. 
Syke  haveth  efpyde  a  greter  ftarre 
Amenge    the  <!rybbkt6o    ous  to  (heene  fulle 

bvyghte ;  • 

Syke.  funnys  wayne  61  wyth  amayl'd  62  beams 

doe  barr  [lyghtc. 

The   hlaunchie  Cj  mono  or  eftells  64  to  gev 

27  Rifing  high,  fwelling  up.  28  they.  29  a 
corruption  of  t/loile,  Fr.  a  liar.  30  evening. 
31  dark.  32  rebufed  fbields  ;  a  herald  term,  when 
the  charge  of  the  fliield  implies  the  name  of  the 
bearer.  33  like.  34  along.  35  fliine.  36fliort- 
lived.  37  furious.  38  runneth.  39  not  knowing. 
40  abide.  4imig!uy.  42  affright.  43  woeful. 
44  covered.  45  different  kinds  of  boats.  46  full 
foon.prefently.  47  glitter.  48  united,  aflembled. 
42  running.  50  foe?.  51  if.  52  make  ready. 
j-,  dark.  54  engage.  55  ceafe,  ftand  ftill.  563 
young  lion.  57  flaming.  58  a  meteor ;  from, 
gron,  a  fen,  and  fer,  a  corruption  of  fire  ;  that  is, 
a  fire  exhaled  from  a  fen.  59  decked.  CofmtH, 
infignificant.  61  carr.  62  enamelled.  63  whitt,  fii- 


325  THE 

Sprytes  of  the  blefte,  and  everich  feyncle  ydedde, 
Poure  owce  your  pleafaunce  on  mie  fadres  hedde. 
Diicraughte  65    affraie  66,    wythe     lockes    cf 

blodde-red  die, 

Terrnure,  emburled  $7  yn  the  thcmders  ra^e, 
Uethe,   lynked  to  difmaie,  dothe  ugfotnme  6S 
'  flie,  [,vage. 

Enchaf}nge  69    echone    champyonne    war    to 
Speeres  bevyle  70  fperes  ;  fwerdes  upon  fwerdes 

engage; 
Arrnoure  on  armoure    dynn  71     fhielde   upon 

fliielde; 

No  dethe  of  thoufandes  can  the  warre  affiiage. 
Botte  falleynge  nombers  fable  72  all  the  feeide. 
Sprytes  of  the  blefte,  and  everych  feyndle  ydedde, 
.Poure  owteyour  pleafaunce  on  mie  fadres  hedde. 
The  foemen  fal  arounde  ;  the  crofs  reles  7-$  hye ; 
Steyned  ynne  goere,  the  Iwrte  of  warre  ys  feen  ; 
Kyng  Rycharde,  thorough  everyche  trope  dothe 

fiie,    • 
And- beereth  meynte  74  of  Turkes  onto   the 

greene ; 

nv  JKe  hymm  the  floure  of  Afies  meen  ys  fleeue  75  ; 
The    walynge76   mone  doth   fade  before    hys; 
fonne;  [deei)e77,! 

Bie  hym  hys  knyghtes  bee   formed  to   adtions 
Docynge  fyke  marvels  78,  ftrongers  be  aftori  79. 
Sprytes  of  the  blefte,  and  everych  feyncle  ydedde,    , 
Foure  owte  your  pleafaunce  onn  mie  fadres  hedde. 
The  fyghte  ys  wonne  •  "Kynge   Rycharde  maf- 

ter  is;        '   •   '. 

The  Englonde  banner  kifieth  the  hie  ayre ; 
Full  of  pure  joie  'the  armie  is  iwys  So,     '  • 
And  everych  one  baveth  it  onne  his  bayre  Si ; 
^"'jftgayne  to  Englonde  comme,  and  vvorlchepped 

there,  - 

;  Twyghte  8s  into  lovynge  armcs,  and   feafted 

tn  83 ; 

-     In  everych  eyne  aredynge  nete  of  wyere  84, 
Of  all  remembrance  of -paft  peyhe  berefte. 
Sprites  of  the  blefte,  and  everich  feyncte  ydedde, 
Syke  pleafnres  povvre  upon  mie  fadres  hedde. 
Syke  Nigel  fed,  whan  from  the  bluie  fea 
The  upfvvol85  fayle  dyd  daunce  before  his  eyne  ; 
Swifte  as  the  withe,  lie  roe  the  beeche  dyd  flee, 
And  founde  his  fadre  fleppey  nge  from  the  bryne. 
Lettethy{Ten:menr.e,  whohaveth  fprit'e  ofloove, 
Eethyncke  untoe  hemfelves  how  mute  the  meet- 
ynge  proove.   • 

ECLOGUE  TIT. 

.   '  '   • 

Wocto'sT  thoa  kenn  nature  in  her  better  parte  ? 
Goe,    i'erche  the   logres  i    and  borclels  a  of  the 
hynde 3 ; 



$5  Diftracling.  65  affright.  67  armed.  68  terri- 
,  My.  69  encouraging,  heating.  70  break,  a  herald 
icrmfignifjing  a  fpeav  broken  in  tilting.  71  founds. 
71  blacken.  73  waves.  74  many,  -great  .num 
ber?.  75i1ain.  76decreafing.  77  glorious,  wor 
thy.  78  wonders.  79  aftonilbcd.  So  certainly. 
•^1-row.  Sz  plucked,  pulltrl.  8;  often.  84  grief, 
.  cubic.  85  fvvoln.— i  Lodges,  huts.  :  cottr.gcs. 
t,  ftaye^  peafant. 


WORR.S    OF   CHATTERTON. 


Gyff4  -theie    have  anie,  itte  ys  roughe-mada 

arte,  [kynde  7. 

Inne    hem  5    you    fee  the  blakied  6  forme  of 

Havetl)  your  mynde  a  lycheyng  8  of  a  mynde  ? 

Wouide  it  kenne  everich  thynge,  as  it  rnote^ 

bee  ?  [the  h)nde, 

Wouide   ytte  here  phrafe  of  the  vulgar  rrom 

Without  wifeegger  10  wordes  arid  knowlache  1 1 

free  > 
Gyf  foe,    rede    thys,    whyche    iche  dyfportr- 

ynge  12  pende  ; 
Gif  nete  befyde,  yttes  rhyme  male  ytte  commende. 

Manne. 
Bntte  whether,  fayre  mayae,  do  ye  goe  ? 

O  where  do  ye  ber.de  yer  waie  ! 
I  wille  knnwe  whether  you  goe, 
Iwylle  not  bee  afieled  13  naie. 

Womaiine. 

To  Robyn  and  Nell,  all  downe  in  the  delle, 
To  hele  14  hem  at  niakeyrige  of  haie. 

Manne. 
Syr  Rogerre,  the  parfone,  hav  hyred  mee  there, 

Comm",  comme,  lett  tis  tryppe  ytte  awaife, 
We'lle    wujke  15    ?.iul,  \ve'Jle  fynge,  and  wylie 

drenche  ifi  of  ftronge  beer 
As  longi'as  tl>e  nierrie  fommers  daie. 

Womnnne.  ' 

How  harde  ys  mie  dome  to  wurrh ! 
•  •      Moke  as  mie  woe. 
Dame  Agnes,  whoe.  lies  ynne  the  chyrche 

With  birlette  17  golcle, 

Wythe  gelten  IS  aumeres  19  tlrbnge  ontolde, 
What  was  fliee  nice  than  me,  to  be  foe  ? 

Mit?i?ie. 

I  kenne  Syr  Roger -''from  sfar 
TrJEI>ynge,over  the  lea ; 
Ich  alk  whie  the  loverds  20  fon 
Is  moe  than  mee. 

Syr^Rogcrre. 
The    f-.veltrie  21    ferine    dothe    hie  apace  hys 

.  wayne  12, 

From  everich  heme  a  feme  23  of  lyfe  dee  falle; 

Swjthyti  24  fcille  25  oppe  the  haie  uponne  the 

pluyne;  [talle. 

Methynckes  the    cockes  begynneth  to  gre  46 

Thys  ys  alyche  our  doome  27  ;  the   great,  the 

fmalle,  :    [darte. 

Mofte  withe  18  and  bee  forwyned  29^ by  deathis 

See  !  the  I'wotejo  iiowette  31  hathe  uoe  fwote 

.  ,;..        at-alle; 

Itte  wythe  the  rauke  wede  breathe  evalle  34 
parte. 

4  If.  5  a  contraction  of  them.  6 naked,  origi 
nal.  7.nature.  8  liking.  o  might  '  The  fent'e 
of  this  line  is,  Would'  you  fee  every  thing  in  its 
primaeval  ftate.  10  wife.egger,  a  philofophe'r. 
1 1  knowledge,  rafporting."  I3anfwered.  14  aid, 
or  help.  15  work.  1 6  drink.  17  a  hood,  or  co 
vering  for  the  back  part  of  the  head.  18  gilded. 
19  birders  of  gbltl  and  filver,  on  which  was  laid 
thin  plates  of  cither  metaf  counterchanged,  not  un 
like  the  prefcnt  fjijifiglcd  laces.  20  lord.  21  fiU- 
tr)-:  22  car.  23  feed.  24  quickly,  prel'ently. 
25pT.ther.  2<5grp\v.  27  fate.  28  a  contiadlioti 
of  whher.  29  dried.  30  fn'eet.  31  flower.  3^  eqhal. 


P    O    E    M    S. 


The  cravant  33  warrioure,   and  the  wyfe  be 

blente  34,  [ment  35 . 

Alyche  to  drie  awaye  wythe  thofe  theie  dyd  be- 

Mannc. 

All-a-boon  36,  Syr  Prieft,  all-a-boon, 

Bye  yt-r  preeflfchype  nowe  faic  unto  nice  ; 
Syr  Gaufryd  the  knyghte  who  ly  vethc  havde  bie, 
WhL  (houlde  heethan  mee 

Bee  moe  great?, 
Inne  honnoure,  knyghthoode  and  eftate  ? 

Syr  Jfogerre. 

Attourne  37  thine  eyne  arounde  thys  haied  mee, 
Tentyilie  38  loke  arounde  the  chaper  3^  delle  40  ; 
An  anfwere  to  thie  barganette  41  here  fee, 
Thys  welked  42  flourctte  wylle  a  lefon  telle : 
Arift  43  it  blew  44,  itte  florifhed  and  dyd  welle, 
Lokeynge  afcaunce  45  upon  the  naighboure  greene ; 
Yet  with  the  deigned  46  greene  yttesrennome  47 
felle.  [playne, 

Eftfoones  48  ytte  fiironke  upon  the'daie-brente  49 
Didde  not  yttes  loke,  whileft  ytte  there  dyd 
flonde,  .  [hotide, 

To  croppe   ytt  in  the  bodde  move  fomme  dred 
Syke  50  ys  the  waie  of  lyfte  ;  the  loverdsjl 

'ente  5  ^ 

Mooveth  the  robber  hym  therfor  to  flea  53  ; 
Gyt"  thou  has  ethe  54,  the  Jhadowe  of  contente, 
Beleive  the  trothe  55,  theres  none  moe  haile  56 
yan  thee.  [bee  ? 

Thou  wurcheft  57  ;  welle,  canne  thatte  a  treble 
Slothc  moe  wulde  jade  thee  than  the  rougheft 

dale. 

Couldeft  thou  thekivercledjSof  foughlys59  fee, 

Thou  wouldil  eftfoones   60  fee   trothe    ynne 

•     Avliatte  1  faie ;  [thenne 

Botte  lette  me  heere  thie  waie  of  lyfle,    and 

Heare  thou  from  me  the  lyfles  of  odher  mcnne. 

Munne. 

I  ryfe  wythcthe  forms, 
Lyche  hym  to  dryve  die  waync  61, 
And  cere  mie  wurche  is  don 
I  fynge  a  fonge  or  t waync  62. 
I  followe  the  plough-tayle, 
Wythe  a  lohge  jubb  63  of  ale. 
Botte  of  the  maydens,  oh ! 
Itte  lacketh  notte  to  telle  ; 
Syr  preefte  mote  notte  crie  woe, 
Culde  hys  bull  do  as  welle. 
I  daunce  the  befte  heie  dcygnes.64, 
And  foile  65  the  wyfeft  ftygn'es  66. 

On  everych  feyndes  hie  daie 
Wythe  the  mynftrelle  67  am  I  feeqe, 


33  Coward.  34  ceafed,  dead,  no  more.  35  la 
ment.  36  a  manner  of  afking  a  favour.  37  turn.  • 
38  carefully,  with  circumfpecTrion.  39  dry,  fun-j 
burnt.  40  valley.  41  a  fong,  or  ballad.  42  wi-j 
thered.  43  arifen,  or  arofe.  44  bloffomed.  45  dif- 
dainfully.  46  difdained.  47  glory.  48  quickly. 
49  burnt,  co  fuch.  51  lord's.  52  a  purfe,  or  bag. 
53  flay.  54  eafe.  55  truth.  56  happy.  57  work- 
eft.  58  the  hidden  or  ;">cret  p'art  of.  57  fouls. 
60  full  foon,  or  prefeutly.  61  car.  fa  two.  633 
.bottle.  64  T  country  dar.ce,  frill  prnctifed  in  the 
north.  65  battle.  66  a  corruption  of  feints.  67  a 
.  miullrel  is  a  luullcian. 


All  a  footeynge  it  awaie, 
\Vythe  muydens  on  the  greene. 
But  oh !  I  wyflie  to  be  moe  greate, 
In  rennome,  tenure,  and  cftate. 
Syr  Rr.gerrf. 

Has  thou  ne  fecne  a  trie-  uponne  a  hylic, 
Whofe  unlifte  68  bramices  69  rcchen  far   tne 

fyghte ; 

When  iuiicd  70  unwers  71  doe  the  heaven  fyllc, 

Itte  fhaketh  deere  71  yn  dole  73  and  moke  af- 

fryghte.  [dyghte  76, 

Whylelt  the  congcon    74  flowrette  abeflic   75 

Stondethe  uuhurte,  linquaced  77  bie  the  ftorme  : 

Syke  is  a  pic"ie  78  of  lyffe  :  the  manne  of  myghte 

Is  tempeft-chaft  79,  hys  woe  grcatc.ishys  io.i::-, 

Thitlelfe  a  flowrette  of  a  fmall  accounte, 

Wouldft  harder  felle  the  wyudc,  as  hyglier  thee 

dydftc  mount,. 


ELINOURE  AND  JUGA. 

ONNE   Ruddeborne  i  bank  twa   pynynge  mav- 

dens  fate,  [cleeu  ; 

Their    tears  fade  dryppeynjc  to  the  waterrc  : 

Ecchone  bementynge  2  for  her  abfcnte  mate, 

Who  at  Seyncle  Albonns  fhouke  the  morch- 

ynge  3  fpeare. 

The  nottebrowne  Klinoure  to  J"ga  fayre  [eyr\e. 
Dydde  fpeke  acroole  4,  vythc  languifhment  of 
Lyche  droppes  of  pcarlie  dew,  lemed  5  the  quy\- 
ryng  brine. 

O  gentle  Juga  !  heare  mie  'dcrnie  6  pla'ntc, 
To  f\  ghte  for  Yorke  mie  love  ys  dyr  hte  7  in 

'ftele; 

O  maie  ne  fanguen'flreirethe  whyterofe  pcynclc*, 
Mai  good  Seyn&e  Cuthberte  \vatche  Syrrc  Ro- 

bertc  wele. 

Moke  moe  thanne  deatrie  in'  phantafie  I  feele  ; 

See  !  kc  !  upon  the  ground  he  bieedynge  lies 

Inhild  8  fome  joice  y  of  lyffe,  or  elfe  mie  deare  love 

dies. 

Syfters  in  forrowc.'on  thys  daife-ey'd  bankc, 
Where  melancholych  broods,  we  wylle  lamentr; 
Be  wette  wythe  mornyngc  dewe   and    CVLIIC 

danke : 

I.yche  levynde  10  olie*  in  eche  the  odher  bente, 
Or  lyche  forlettenn  n  halles  of  merrimente, 
Whofe  gaftlie   mitches  la  holde  the  train  of 

fry  ghte  13,  [t  J:  o  n  j'ghte. 

Where  let'haje  14  raveiis  bark,  and   owlets  \vake 

No  moe  the  myfkynette  15  fhall  wake  the  morne, 
The  minflrelle  daunce,  good  cheere,  and  mor- 
ryce  plaje ; 


68  Unbounded.  69  branches.  70  furious.  71  tcn;- 
pefts,  flbrms.  7Z.  dire.  73  dii'may.  74  dwarf.  75  hu 
mility.  76  decked.  77  unhurt.  78  picture.  79  tcn,- 
peft-beaten.— I  Rudborne  (in  Saxon,  red  water), 
a  river  near  St.  Albans,  famous  fpr  the  battles  there 
fought  between  the  houfes  of  Lancalter  and  York. 
2  lamenting.  3  murdering.  4  faintly.  5  gliften- 
ed.  6  fad  complaint.  7  arrayed,  or  cafed.  8  in- 
fufe.  9  juice.  10  blafted.  n.forfaken.  12  ruins. 
13  fear. ,  14  deadly,  or  deathbo.'.ing.  ij  a 


3**'  fH-H   WORKS   OF 

No  more  the  arriblynge  r;>.lf,-*e  ana  ths  l;<>rnc 
Shah  from  the  Ie<;'.'     '    .  ou.;;  the  fose  •av.c.r- ; 
I'll  (eekc  til.-  {Vv.. '  •••  :•'    th  :  '    v  >long::  d.ii.: ; 
Ail  .Tte  ..'.monge  the  gravdj  chyrche  17  glebe 
•v       wyll  goe,  [of  woe. 

And  to  the  puffante  Spryghtes  ledlure  18  mie  talc 

&*&] 

Whin  mokie  19  clcudis  do  hange  upon  the  lenjc 
< >\  ,j.r  i!  2~  moon,  ynn  fylver  mantels  ciyghce ; 
The  tryppeygne  faeries  weve  the  golden  drerae 
Of  felynefs-i; ,  vhyche  flyethe  \vy the  the  nyghte; 
Then  (botte  the  feyn&cs  forbydde!)  gif  to  a 

fpryte  [ftraughte 

Syrr  Rychardes  forme  ys  lyped,  I'll  hold  dy- 
Hf«  bledeynge  claie  colde  corfe,  and  die  eche  dale 

ynn  thoughte. 

F.l'-neuri. 
Ah  woe  bementynge  wordes ;  what  wordes  can 

fhewe !  fbleede 

Thou  limed  31  ryver,  on  thie  linche  13  nmie 
Champyons,  \vhofe   bioude  wylle  wythe  thie 

waterres  fiowe,  [deede ! 

And  Rudborne  ftreeme  be  Rudborne  ftrecme  in- 
Hafte,  gentle  Juga,  tryppeytte  oere  the  meade, 
To  knowe,  or  wheder  we  mufte  waile  agayne, 
Or  wythe  cure  fallen  knyghtes  be  menged  onne 

the  plain. 

Soe  fayinge,  lylce  twa  levyn-blafted  trees, 
Or  t wayne  of  cloudes  that  noldeth  flormie  rayne ; 
Theie  moved  gentle  oere  the  dewie  mees  24, 
To  where  Seyncte  Albonsholie  {hrynesremayne. 
There  dyd  theye  fynde  that  bothe  their  kuyghtes 

were  flayne,  [bornes  fyde, 

Diflraughte  23  theie  wandered  to  fwollen  Rud- 
TTelied  theyrc  leathalle  knelle,fQpkc  ynn  the  waves, 

and  dyde. 

TO  JOHNE  LADGATE 
f&nt  with  tie f olio-wing  fotige  to  JRlla,) 

WELL  thanne,  gqode  Johne,  fytthe  yttmnft  needes 

be  foe, 

Thatt  thou  and  I  abowtyng*  match. muft  have, 
incite  ytt  ne  breakynge  of  oulde  friendfhyppe  bee, 
Thys  ys  the  onelie  all-a-boone  I  crave. 
"Remember  Stowe,  the  Bryghtflowe  Carmalyte, 
Who  whanne  John  Clarkynge,  one  of  myckle  lore, 
Dydd  throwe  hys  gauntlette-penne,  wyth  b.ym  to 

fyghte,  [more. 

Hee  fhowd  fmalle  wytte,  and  fhowd  hys  weakneffe 
Thys  ys  mie  formance,whych'j  1  nowe  have  wrytte, 
The  beft  performance  of  mie  lyttel  wytte. 

SONG  TO  2ELLA, 

iardeoftbt  Cajlel  ef  Bryjloiuc  ynne  daiss  ofyare. 

On  thou,  orr  what  remaynes  of  thee^ 
•     j'Ella,  the  darlynge  of  futurity, 
L,ett  thys  mie  fonge  bold  as  thie  courage  be. 

As  everlaftynge  to  pofteritye. 
Whanne  Dacya's  foonnes,  whofe  hayres  of  blrrtide 
redde  hue,  [ing  due, 

Lyche  kynge-cuppes  braftyng  wythe  the  morn- 

16"  In  a  confined  fenfe,  abufh  or  hedge,  though 
fometimes  ufed  as  a  foreft.  1 7  church-yard.  IS  re 
late.      19  black,      ao  decreafing.     at  happinefs. 
22  glaffy.     23  bank.     24  meeds.     25  diHractcd. 
'' 


CHATTERTON. 

Arraung'd  ynn  dreare  arraie, 

Uponne  the  lethale  daie, 
Spredde  farre  and  wyde  onne  Watchcts  fii»rc|» 

Than  dyddft  thou  furioufe  ftunde, 

And  bie  thie  vatyante  iiand 
Beelprcngedd  all  the  mees  wythe  gore. 

Drawn  bie  thyne  anlace  felle, 

Downe  to  the  depthe  of  heJlc 

Thoufandes  of  Dacyanns  went ; 

Bryftowannes,  menne  of  myghtcK 

Ydar'd  the  bloudie  fyghte, 

And  a&ed  detds  full  tju^nt. 

Oh  thou    whereer  (thie  bones  att  refte) 
Thye  fpryte  to  haunte  delyghteth  beltc, 

Whetherr  lipponne  the  bioude-embrewedd  pleyncj 
Orr  whare  thou  kennft  fromm  farre 
The  dyfmall  cry  of  warre,  [fleyne ; 

Orr  feeft  fomme   mountayne   made  of  corfe  o|, 

Orr  feeft  the  hatchedd  ftede, 

Ypraunceynge  o'er  the  mede, 
Andneigbe  to  be  amenged  the  poy rifted dfjpeeresj 

Orr  ynne  blackc  armoure  ftaulke  aroundc 

Embattel'd  Bryftowe,  once  thie  grounde^ 
And  glowe  ardurous  onn  the  Caille  ileers ; 

Orr  fierye  round  the  mynfterr  glare ; 

Lette  Bryftowe  ftylle  be  made  thie  care  ;  [fyre  ; 
Guarde  ytt  fromme  foemenne  and   confumynge 

Lyche  Avones  flreme  enfyrke  ytte  rounde, 

Ne  leette  a  flame  enharme  the  grounde, 
Tyllp  ynne  one  flame  all  the  whole  world  expyre, 

The  underwritten  lines  ivere  compofid  by  jfotn  Ladgatf 
a  Priejl  in  London,  and  fent  to  JR(rwliet  as.  an  aft-' 
fiver  to  the  f  receding  Senge  of  JBdla. 

HAVTNG*  wythe  mouche  attentyonn  redde 

What  you  dydd  to  mee  fend, 
Admyre  the  varfes  mouche  I  dydd, 

And  thus  an  anfwerr  lende. 

Amongs  the  Greeces  Homer  wa§ 

A  poett  mouche  renowndc, 
Amongs  the  Lotyns  Vyrgilius 

Was  befte  of  poets  founde. 

The  Brytifh  Merlynn  oftenne  hann6 

The  gyfte  of  infpyration, 
And  Afled  to  the  Sexonne  menne 

Dydd  fynge  wythe  elocation. 

Ynne  Norman  tymes,  Turgotus  and 

Good  Chaucer  dydd  exceile, 
Then  Stowe,  the  Bryghtflowe  Qarmelytfe 

Dydd  bare  await;  the  belie. 
Nowe  Rowlie  ynne  thefe  mokie  dayes 

Lendes  owte  hys  fheenynge  lyghte*. 
And  Turgotus  and  Chaucer  lyves 
Ynne  ev'ry  lyne  he  wryte^. 

THE  TOURNAMENT. 

AN  INTERLUDE. 

Enter  an   Heraftiife. 

THEtournament  begynnes;  the  hammer  fotmde; 
The  conrferrs  lyffe   i  about  the  menfuredd  t 
fielde ; 


^  Sport  or  pla.y.    %  bounded,  or  meafurcc^ 


O    X     M    S. 


'fhc  fcemrynje  armoure  throw*   th*  ihcne  a- 

rounde ; 

Quayntyffed  2     fons  3     depi&edd  4    onn  cche 
fheelde.  [amielde  6, 

The  feerie  5     heaulmets,  wythe  the  wreathes 
Supportes  die  rampynge  lyoncell  7  orr  beure, 
Wythe  ftraunge  depydhires  8,  Nature  maie  note 
Unfeemelie  to  all  orderrdoe  appere,       [yeekle, 
Yett  yatte  9  to  mcnne,  who  thyncke  and  have 

a  fpryte  10 
Makes  knowen  that  the  phantafies  unryghte. 

I,  fonne  of  honnoure,  fpencer  n  of  her  joies, 
Muftc  fvvythen  la  goe  to  yeve  13  the  ipeeres 

arounde,  [emploie, 

Wythe  advantayle  14  and  borne  15  1  meynte  16 
Who  withoHte  mee  woulde  fall  uiitoe  the 

grounde. 

Poe  the  tall  oake  the  ivie  twyfteth  rounde  ; 
Soe  the  neflic   17  flowerr  grees  18  ynne   the 

woodeland  made,  [founde ; 

The  worlde  bie  diffraunce  ys  ynne  orderr 
Wydhoute  unlikenefle  nothyngecould  bee  made. 
A*  ynn  the  bowke  19  nctc  ao  alleyn  If  can  bee 

donrie, 
Syke  32  ynn  the  weal  of  kynde  all  thynges  arc 

partes  of  onne. 

Enter  Syrr  Symor.ne  de  Sour  fount. 
Herawde  23,  bie  heavenne  thefe  tylters  flaie 

too  long. 

Mie  phuiuane  ys  dyinge  forr  the  fyghte. 
The  hiynftrelles  have  begoune  the  thyrde  warr 

fonge,  [fyghte. 

Yett  nette  a  fneere  of  hemm  24  hath  grete  mie 
^1  feere  there  be  ne  manne  wordhie  mie  myghte. 
I  lacke  a  Guid  25,  a  Wyllyamm  26  to  entyite. 
To  reine  27   anenfe  »8  a  felc  29  embociicdd 

knyghte,  [fpylte. 

Vtt  gettes  ne  rennome  30  gyfF  hys  blodde  bee 
Bie  Heavenne  and  Marie  ytt  ys  tymc  they're 

here ;  [fpeare. 

I  lyche  nott  unthylle   31    thus  to  wielde  the 

ffcratvdc. 
Methynkes  I  hear  yer  flugghornes  32  dynn  33 

from  farre. 

Bourtonne. 
Ah  !  fwythenn   34  mie  fhielde  and  tyltynge 

launce  bee  bounde  35. 

J^ftfoones  $(>  behefte  37  mie  fqiryerr  to  the  warre.' 
J  flie  before  to  clayme  a  challenge  grownde. 

[Gc:tf>  out;. 
HiraiuJe. 
Thie  valourous  ades  woulde  meinte:?  of  menne 

aftounde ;  [fygnte  5 

Harde  bee  yer  fhappe  99  encontryrtge  thee  ynn 


a  Curioufly  devifed.  3  fancys  or  devicrs.  4  paint 
ed,  or  difplayed.  5  fiery.  6  ornamented,  enamel 
led.  7  a  young  Hon.  8  draw  ings,  paintings.  9  that, 
jo  fool.  II  difpenfer.  14  quickly.  13  give.  14  arm- 
er.  15  burnifh.  16  many.  \-j  young,  weak,  ten 
der.  1 8  grows.  19  body,  ao  nothing.  21  alone. 
*z-fo.  23  herald.  14  a  contraction  of  them.  25  Guie 
(le  Sanfio  EgiJio,  the  mofl  famous  tiller  of  his  age. 
»6  William  Rufus.  27  run.  28  againft.  19  fee 
ble,  jo  honour,  glory.  31  ufelefs.  32  a  kind  of 
claryon.  33  found.  34  quickly.  35  ready.  36  foon. 
37  command.  38  mt ft.  39  fate,  or  doom. 


Anenft  40  all  menne  then  bereft  to  the  grounde, 
JLyche  die  hard  hayledodic  the  tall  rouiespyghtc 

41. 

As  whanne  the  mornynge  fonneydronksthe  dew, 
Syche  dothe  thie  valorous  a<fts  droncke   4*  eche 
knyghtc's  hue. 

THE  LYSTES. 

The  Kynge,  Syrr  Symonnc  de  Bottrhntie,  Syrr  Hugr 
Ferraris,  Syrr  Rantdpb  Nnillc,  Syrr  Lodovicl  dt 
C/ynfon,Syrr  "Jobnde  Sfrgljmr»e,anJoJl)trrtnygtlett 
Heraivdcs,  Mynji  relies,  and  ServyituTi  43  . 

Kynge. 
The  barganette  43  ;  yec  mynftrclks  tune  the 


.Sommc  a«ftyonn  dyre  of  antyante  kynges 

Mynfrellcs. 
Wyllamm,  the  Normaunes  floure  botte  Englonde* 

throne, 
The  manne  whofe  myghte  dclievretie  44  had 

knite  45, 
Snett  46  oppe  hys  long  ftrunge  bo\vc  and  fheelde 

aborne  47, 

Bcht-fteynge  48  all  hyshommaperes  49  to  fyghte. 
Goe,  ronze  the  lyonn  from  hys  hylted  50  dennc,- 
Let  thie  floes  5  1  drenche  die  blodde  of  anie  thyngc 
bott  menne. 

Ynn  the  treed  forrefle  doe  the  knyghtes  appere; 
Wyllamm  wythe  myghte  hys  bowe  enyronn'd 

53  plies  53  ;  [earej 

Loude  dynns  54  the  arrowe  yn  the  wolfynn** 
Hee  ryfeth  batten  1  55,  roare*,  he  pandtes,  hcq 

dyes. 

Forflaggenn  att  thie  feetc  lett  wolvynns  bee, 
Lett  thie  floes  drenche  theyre  blodde,  bott  do  ne 

bredrennflea. 
Throwe  the  merke  5  6  fhade  of  twiftynde  tree* 

hee  rydes  ;  [wynSet 

The  flemed  5  7  owlett  58  fiapps  herr  e  ve-fpeckte 
The  Iordynge6o  toade  yn  all  hys  paflVs  bides; 
1'he  berten  61  neders  62  att  hymm  darte  the 

ftynge.  ; 

Styll,  ftylle,  he  paffes  onn,  hys  ftede  aftrodde, 
Nee  hedes  the  daungerous  waie  gyff  Icadynge  un- 

toe  bloodde. 

The    lyoncel,    fromme    fweltrle  63    countries 

braughtc, 

Coin  heynge  binethe  the  fheltre  of  the  brierr, 
Att  commynge  dynn  64  dothrayfe  himfelfe  4% 

traughte  65, 

He  loketh  wy  th  an  eie  of  flames  of  fyrc. 
Goe,  fticke  the  lyonn  to  hys  hyltren  denne, 
Lette  thie  floes  66  drench  the  blpode  of  anie  thyngc 

bottc  mean. 


40  Againft.  41  pitched,  or  bent  down.  42  drink. 
43  fervant,  attendants.  44  fong,  or  ballad.  45  ac 
tivity.  46  bent.  47  burnilhed.  48  comm.inding. 
49  fervants.  50  hidden.  51  arrow?.  52  worked 
with  iron,  g 3  bends.  54  founds.  55  loudly.  56 
dark,  or  gloomy.  57  and  58  frighted  owl.  59 
marked  with  evening  dew.  60  Handing  on  their 
hind  legs.  61  venomous.  6^  adders.  63  hot,  lul« 
tty.  64  found,  notfc.  65  <iftra$ed.  66  arrowy 


THE  WORKS  OF  CHATTERTON. 


Wythepaffent67ft.eppethelyonnmov'thalonge; 
Wyllamm  has  ironnc-woven  bowe  hee  hendes, 
Wythe  mayghte  alyche  the  roghlyne  68  thon- 

derr  ftronge ; 

The  ly  onn  ynn  a  roare  hys  fpryte  foorthe  fendes. 

Goe,  flea  the  lyonnynnhysbloddc-fteyn'ddenne, 

Botte  bee  the  takelle  69  dree  fromm  blodde  of  od- 

hcrr  menne. 

Swefte   from  the   thyckett   ftarks  the    ftagge 

awaie  ; 

The  couraciers  70  as  fwefte  doe  afterr  flie. 
Hee  lepethe  hie,  hee  ftondes,  heekepes  att  baie, 
Botte  metes  the  arrow,  and  eftfoones  71   doth 

die. 

Forflagenn  atte  thic  fote  lette  wylde  beaftes  bee, 
Lett  thie  floes  drenche  yer  blodde,  yett  do  ne  bre- 

drenn  flee. 

.  Wythe  murther  tyredd,  hee  fleyngcs  hys  bowe 

alyne  72.  [flowers. 

•  The  flagge  ys  ouch'd  73  wythe  crownes  of  lillie 

Arounde  theire  heanhnes  theie  greene  verte  doe 

entwyne  ; 

Joying  and  rev'lons  ynn  the  grene  wode  bowers. 
Forflagenn  wyth  thie  floe  lette  wylde  beaftes  bee, 
Jcefle  thee  upponne  theire  flefhe,  doe  ne  thie  bre- 
dren  flee. 

Kynge. 

Now  to  the  Tournie  74 ;  who  wylle  fyrfte  af- 
fraie  75  ? 

HerehauUf. 
Nevyfle,  a  baronne,  bee  yatte  76  honnoure  thyne. 

JjourtoHnc. 
I  clayme  the  paflage. 

Nevylle. 
I  contake  77  thie  waie. 

Bourtonni. 
Thenn  there's  mie  gauntlette  78  onn  mie  gaber- 

dyne  79. 

t  Henliauldc. 

A  leegefull  80  challenge,  knyghtes  and  cham- 

pyonnsdynge  8l, 
A  leegefull  challenge,  lette  the  flugghorne  founde. 

[Syrr  Sjmennt  and  Ntvylle  tf 
Nevyll  ys  goeynge,  manne  andhorfe,  toe  grounde. 

\Nruyllefalh. 

Loverdes,  howe  doughtilie  8  a  the  tylterrs  joyne! 
Yee  champyonnnes,  here  Symonne  de   Bour- 

tonne  fyghtes, 
Onne  hee  hathe  quacedd  83,  afTaylt84  hymm,  yee 
knyghtes. 

Ferraris. 

I  wyll  anente  85  hymm  go ;  mie  fquierr,  mie 

{hielde;  [fcethe87 

Orr  onne  orr   odherr    wyll   doe    mytklc  86 


67  Walking  leifurely.     68  rolling.     69  arrow 
?o  horfe  courfers.     71   full  foon.     ']^  acrofs  hi 
fhonldcrs.    73  garlands  of  flowersbeing  put  rounc 
the  neck  of  the  game,  it  was  faid  to  be  oucfrd,  from 
each,  a  chain  worn  by  earls  round  their  necks.     74 
tournament.     75  fight,  or  encounter.  j6  that.    7 
difpute.     78  glove.     79  a  piece  of  armour.'    8. 
lawful.    8 1  worthy.    8a  furiov.fly.    83  vanquifhed 
84  oppofe.     85  againft.     86  much.     87  damage 
toifchief. 


cfore  I  doe  departe  the  liffedd  88  fielde, 
Miefelfe  or  Bour tonne  hereupponn  wyll  blethe 
89.  Mie  fhidde. 

Bourtonnt. 

Comme  onne,  and  fitte  thie  tylte-launce  etheQO. 

Whanne  Bourtonne  fyghtes,  hee  meets  a  doughtie 

foe.  [77vv  tylte.     Ferraris  falletb. 

Hee  falleth ;  nowe  bie  heavenne  thie  wounde* 

doe  fmethc  91 ;  [92. 

I  feere  mee,  I  have  wroughte  thee  myckle  \v«e 

Htraivde. 

Bourtonne  hys  feconde  beereth  to  the  feelde. 
mme  onn,  ye  knyghtes,  and  wynn  the  honour' «J 
flieeld. 

Bfrgbatnme. 

I  take  the  challenge ;  fquyre,  mie  launce  and  flede. 
I,  Bourtonne'.  take  the  gauntlette  for  mee  ftaie. 
Bot^e,  gyff  thou  fyghtcile  nieej  thou  flialt  have 

mede  95  ; 

Somme  odlitrr  I  wylle  champyonn  toe  afFraie  94; 
Ferchaunce  fromme  hemm  I  mait  poflelsthedaie, 
Then  I  fchf.ile  bee  a  focmanne  forr  thie  fpere. 
Herehawde,  toe  thebankes  of  knyghtys  faie, 
De  Berghamme  waytcth  for  a  foemann  heere. 

Clinton. 

Botte  longe  thou  fchalre  ne  tende  95  ;  I  doe  thee 
fie  90.    .  [launce  flie. 

Cyclic  forrcying  97  levynn  98,  fchalle  mie  tylte- 
[Bergkamme  and  Clinton  tylte.      Clinton fallctbc, 

Bergbaintne. 

Nowe,  nowe,  Syrr  Knyghte,    attour'e    99    thie 
beeveredd  100  eye,  [thee. 

I  have  borne  downe,  and  efte  101  doe  gauntlette 
Swythenne  loz  begynne,  and  wrynn  103  thic 

fhappe  104  orr  myne  ; 

GyfFthou  dyrcomfytt,  ytt  wylle  dobblie  bee. 
[Bourtonne  and  Berghamms  fyltttfj.  Bergtiamme falls. 

,    Heraivde. 
Symonne  de  Bourtonne  haVcth  borne  downe 

three, 

And  bie  the  thyrd  hath  honnoure  of  a  fourthe. 
Lett  hymm  bee  fett  afyde,  tylle  hee  doth  fee 
A  tyltynge  forr  a  knyghte  of  gentle  wourthe. 
Heere  commcthc  ftraunge  k'nyghtes ;  gyff  cor- 

teous  105  heie  106, 

Ytt  welle  befeies  107  to  yeye  xoS  hemm  ryghte 
of  fraie  109; 

firji  Knyghte. 

Straungers  wee  bee,  and  homblie  doe  wee  claym: 
The  rennomes  no  yn  thystourneie  ui  forr  to 
tylte ;  [good  name, 

Dherbie  to  proove  fromm  craventes  nz  owre 
Bewrynnge  113  that  wee  gentile  blodde  have 
fpylte. 

HeraivJt. 

Yee  knyghtes  of  cortefie,  thefe  ftraungers,  faie, 
Bee  you  full  wyllynge  forr  to  yeve  hemm  fraie  ? 


88  Bounded.  89  bleed.  90  eafy.  91  frnoke.  91 
hurt,  or  damage.  93  reward.  94  fight,  or  engage, 
oj  attend,  or  wait.  96  defy.  97  and  98  dedroybg 
lightning.  99  turn,  ico  beavered.  101  again. 
102  quickly.  103  declare.  104  fate.  105  worthy. 
106  they.  107  becomes.  108  tu;ive.  109  fight, 
no  honour.  I.I  j  tournament.  I jj  cowards,  n? 
declaring. 


•         POEMS. 


[Fyi'f  tny'gl-tes  tyltetb  ivythetbejlraunge  knygbte, 
and  bee  everichone  1 1 4  overtbroivfte. 

Bdurtonne. 

Nowe  hie  Seyncle  Marie,  gyff  onn  all  the  fielde 
Ycralfed  1 1 5  fperes  and  helmetts  bee  befprente 

1 16,  [ii7iheeld, 

Gyff  everych    knyghte  dycld   honlde  a  piercedd 
Gyff  all  the    i'eelde    wythc  champyonne   blodde 

bee  ilente  US', 

Yet  toe  enrounterr  hymm  I  bee  contente. 
Annodherr  launce,  Marfhalie,  anudherr  launce. 
Albyette  hee    wythe  lowesii^   of  lyre  ybrente 

1 20,  [advance. 

Yett    Bourtonne    woulde    agenfte    hys  -valeizr 
Kyve  haveth  failenn  dovene  anethe  122  hys  fpeere, 
Botte  hee  fchatle  bee  the  next  that  falletli  here. 
Ere  theej'Sey.ncle  Marie,  and  thy  Sonne  I  fweare, 
Thatt  ynn  whatte  place  yonn  cloughtie  knyghte 

flail!  fall  .[out  fpeere, 

Anethe  123  the  ftrouge  pufh  of  mie  ftraughte  124 
There  'fchalle  aryfe  a  hallie  125  chyrches  w.alle, 
The    whyche,    ynn    honnoure,    I    wyHe    Marye 

calle,  [rounde. 

Wythe   pillars  large,  and  fpyre  full  hyghe  and 
And  thys  1  faifullie  126  wylle  Itonde  to  all,  • 
Gyff  yonderr  ftraungerr  falleth  to  the  grounde. 
Straungerr,    bee   bounei27;    I   champyonnjaS 

you  to  warre. 
Sounde,>;founde   the,  flughornes,   to   bee  hearde 

frornm  farre. 

[Boartoarie  'and  tbe  Straungcr  tylt.  Straunger fal 
leth. 
Kyn^e. 
The  mornyhge  tyltes  now  ceafe.  'liH2  " 

Heraude.  ' /,'    >' 

Bourtonne  ys  kynge. 

Dyfplaie  the  Englyfhe  bannorre  ontt  the  tente ; 
Rounde.hymm,  yee  mynltrelies,  fongsof  achments 

i29(ynge;  ['3®; 

Yee  herawdes,  getherr  upp  the  fpeeres  befprente 
To  kynge-of  Tourney-tyke  bee  all  kpees  bente. 
Dames  faire  and  gentle,  for  your  loves  hee  foughte; 
Forrjou.the  longe  tylte-launce,  the  fwerde  hee 

fhentei3i.  [thoughte. 

Hee    jouftedd,    alleine  132    havynge     you    ynn 
Conime,  oiynftrelles,  founde  the  ftrynge,  goe  onn 

eche  fyde, 
Whyleft  hee  untoe  the  Kynge  ynn  ftate  doe  ryde. 

Mynftrellcs. 
•Whann  Battayle,£methynge  133 withe  new-quick- 

enn'd  gore,  .  fhedde, , 

Bendynge  vvyth  fpoiles,    and  bloddie  droopynge 
.Dydd  the  merke  134  woode  of  ethe  135  and 'reft 

explore, 

Seekynge  to  lie  onn  pleafures  downie  bedde, 
Pleafure,  dauncyng  iromni  her  wode,  ) 
Wreathedd  wythe  floures  of  aiglintir.e, 

1 14  Every  one.  115  broken,  fplit.  116  fcattered. 
117  broken,  or  pierced  through  with  darts.  118 
ftained.  inflames.  I20burnt.  121  healra.  122 
beneath.  123  againft.  1 24  ftretched  out.  125 
holy.  126  faithfully.  127  ready.  128  challenge, 
j  29  atchievements,  glorious  actions.  130  broken 
fpears.  131  broke,  deftroyed.  132  onjy,  alone. 
1 33  fmoking,  ftreaniins-  J 34  dark,  gloomy.  135 
calc. 


From  hys  vyfage  wafhedd  the  bloude, 
Hylte  136  hys  fwerde  and  gaberdyne. 

Wythe  fyke  an  eyne  fhee  fwotelie  137  hym  dydd 

view, 

Dydd  foe  ycorvenn  138  everrie  fhape  to  joie, 
Hys  fpryte  dyad  chaunge  untoe  ano<lherr  hoe, 
Hys  armes,  ne  fpoyles,  mate  any  thoughts  emulow* 
All  delyghtfomme  and  contente, 
Fyre  enlhotynge  139  fromm  hys  eyne, 
Ynn  hys  urmes  he  dydd  herr  hente  140, 
Lyche  the  merke  141  plante  doe  entwynne. 
Soe,  gyff  thou  loveft  pleafure  and  herr  trayne, 
Onknowlachynge  14*   ynn    whatt  place  herr  te 


Thys  rule  yfpende  143,  and  ynn  thie  mynde  re- 
Seeke  honnoure  fyrlte,   and    pleafaunce  lies  be* 

hynde. 

3 

BRISTOWE  TRAGEDIE. 

OR,  THE  DETHE  OF  SYR  CHARLES  BAWBIN, 

THE  featherd  fongfter  chaunticleer 

Han  wounde  hys  bugle  home, 
And  tolde  the  earlie  villager 

The  commynge  of  the  morne : 

Kynge  Edwarde  fawe  the  ruddie  ftreake* 

Of  lyghte  eclypfe  the  greie  ; 
And  herde  the  raven's  crokynge  throte 

Proclayme  the  fated  daie. 

"  Thou'rt  ryght,"  quod  he,  "  for,  by  the  Goddo 
"  That  fyttes  enthron'd  on  hygbe  ! 

"  Charles  Bawdin,  and  hys  fellowes  twaine, 
"  To  daie  fliall  furelie  die." 

Thenne,  wythe  a  jugge  of  nappy  ale 

Hys  knyghtes  dydd  onne  hymm  waitej 

"  Goe  tell  the  traytour,  thatt  to-daie 
"  Hee  leaves  thys  mortall  ftate.'* 

Syr  Canterlone  thenne  bendedd  lowe, 
Wythe  harte  brymm-fulle  of  woe; 

Hee  journey'd  to  the  caftle-gate. 
And  to  Syr  Charles  dydd  goe. 

But  whenne  hee  came,  hys  children  twaine^ 

And  eke  hys  lovynge  wyfa, 
Wythe  brinie  tears  dydd  wett  the  floore, 

For  goode  Syr  Charlefes  lyfe. 

"  O  goode  Syr  Charles !"  fayd  Canterlone, .  -  ^ 
"  Badde  tydyngs  I  doe  brynge." 

"  Speke  boldlie,  manne,"  fayd  brave  Syr  Charlqt 
"  Whatte  fays  the  traytor  kynge  ?" 

"  I  greeve  to  telle ;  before  yonne  fonne        . 

"  Does  fromme  the  welkinn  flye, 
"  Hee  bath  uppon  hys  honour  fworne,  .. 

"  Thatt  thou  flialt  furelie  die." 

"  Wee  all  muft  die,"  quod  brave  Syr  Charles ;    • 

"  Of  thatte  I'm  not  affearde  ; 
"  Whatte  bootes  to  lyve  a  little  fpace  ?        ,jj  •• 

"  Thanke  Jefu,  I'm  prepar'd  : 


136  Hid,  fecreted.  13?  fweetly.  138  moulded. 
1 39  ihooting,  darting.  140  grafpv  hold.  141  niglit- 
fliade.  142  ignorantj  unknowing.  143  cgnfider. 


THE   WORKS   O7  CHATTERTON. 


Butt  telle  thye  kynge,  for  myne  hee's  not, 

"  I'de  fooner  die  to-daie, 
"  Thanne  ly  ve  hys  flave,  as  manic  are, 

"  Though  I  fhoulde  lyve  for  aie." 

Then  Ganterlone  hee  dydd  goe  out, 

To  telle  the  maior  ftraite 
To  gett  all  thynges  ynne  reddynefs 

For  goode  Syr  Charleses  fate. 

Thenne  Maifterr  Canynge  faughte  the  kynge, 
And  felle  down  onne  hys  knee  ; 

n  I'm  come,"  quod  he«,  "  onto  your  grace 
•'  To  move  your  clemencye." 

Thenne  quod  the  kynge,  "  Youre  tak  fpeke  out, 
"  You  have  been  much  oure  friende ; 

*  Whatever  youre  requeft  may  bee, 

'*•  Wee  wylle  to  yttc  attende." 

"  My  nobile  leige  !  alle  my  requeft, 
"  Ys  for  a  nobile  knyghte, 

*  Who,  though  may  hap  hee  has  donne  wronge, 

"  Hee  thoughte  ytte  ftylle  was  ryghte  : 

"  He  has  a  fpoufe  and  children  twaine, 

"  Alle  rewyn'd  are  for  aie ; 
«*  Yff  that  you  are  refolv'd  to  lett 

"  Charles  Bawdin  die  to-dai." 

**  Speke  not  of  fuch  a  tray  tour  vile," 

The  kyrige  ynn  furie  fayde  ; 
**  Before  the  evening  ftarre  doth  flieene, 

"  Bawdin  fliall  loofe  hys  hedde : 

**  Juftice  does  loudlie  for  hym  calle, 
"  And  hee  fhaHe  have  hys  meede  : 

"**  Spake,  Maiiter  Canynge  '.  whatte  thynge  elfe 
"  Att  prefent  doe  you  neede  ?" 

*  My  nobile  leige  !"  goode  Canynge  fayde, 

"  Leave  juftice  to  our  Godde, 

*  And  layc  the  yronne  rule  afyde  5 

"  Be  thyne  the  oly  ve  rodde. 

**  Was  Godde  to.  ferche  our  hertes  and  reines, 
"  The  beft  were  fynners  grete  -t 

**  Cbrift's  vicar):  only  knowes  ns  fynne, 
"  Ynne  alle  thysmortall  ftate. 

*  Lett  mercie  rule  thyne  infante  reigne, 

"  'Twylle  fafte  thye  crowne  fulle  lure ; 

*  From  race  to  race  thye  familie 

"  Alle  fov'reigns  fhall  endure  : 

°  But  yfifwythe  bloodc  and  flaughter  thott 
"  Beginne  thy  infante  reigne, 

*  Thy  crewne  upponne  thy  chiidrennes  brows 

"  Wylle  never  long  remayne." 

*  Canynge,  awaie  !  thys  traytour  vile 

'•  Has  fcorn'd  my  power  and  mee ; 
f  Howe  canft  thou  then  for  fuch  a  nianne 
*    ntreate  my  clemencye  ?" 

*  My  nobile  leige  !  the  trulie  brave 

"  Wylle  raProus  actions  priee, 

*  Refpecl  a  brave  and  nobile  mynde, 

"  Although  ynne  enemies." 

'*  Canynge,  awaie  !  By  Godde  ynne  Heav'n 
"  Thatt  dydd  mee  beinge  g>ve, 

*  I  wylle  nott  tafte  a  bitt  of  breade 

"  Whilft  thys  Syr  Charles  dotbe  lyte. 


"  By  Marie,  and  alle  Seimfte*  ynne  Heav'», 

'    "  Thys  funne  (hall  be  hys  lafte," 
Thenne  Caaynge  dropt  a  brinie  teare, 
And  from  the  prifence  pafte. 

Wyth  herte  brymm-fulle  of  gnawynge  griff, 

Hee  to  Syr  Charles  dydd  goe, 
And  fat  hymm  downe  uponne  a  ftoole, 

And  teares  beganne  to  flowe. 

"  Wee  all  muft  die,"  quod  brave  Syr  Charles ; 

"  Whatte  bootes  ytte  howe  or  whenne  ; 
"  Dethe  ys  the  fure,  the  certaine  fate 

"  Of  all  wee  mortall  menne. 

"  Saye  why,  my  friende,  thie  honeft  foul 

"  Runns  over  att  thyne  eye  ; 
"  Is  ytte  for  my  rooft  welcome  doome 

"  Thatt  thoudoft  child-lyke  crye  .'" 

Quod  godlie  Canynge,  "  I  doe  weepe, 
"  Thatt  thou  foe  foone  mud  dye, 

"  And  leave  thy  fonnes  and  helplefs  wyfe  ; 
"  'Tys  thys  thatt  wettes  myne  eye." 

"  Thenne  drie  the  tears  thatt  out  thyne  eye 
"  From  godlie  fountaines  fprynge; 

"  Dethe  I  defpife,  and  aile  the  power 
"  OfEdwarde,  traytour  kynge. 

'•  Whan  through  the  tyrant's  welcom  means 

"  I  (hall  reJigne  my  lyfe, 
"  The  Godde  I  ferve  wylle  foone  provyde 

r*  For  bothe  mye  fonnes  and  wyfe. 

"  Before  I  fawe  the  lyghtfome  funne, 

"  Thys  was  appointed  mee ; 
"  Shall  mortall  raanne  repyne  or  grudge 

"  What  Godde  ordeynes  to  bee  ? 

"  Howe  oft  ynne  battaile  have  I  ftoode, 
"  Whan  thoufanda  dy'd  arounde; 

41  Whan  Imokynge  ftreemes  of  crimfon  bloode 
"  Imbrew'd  the  fatten'd  grounde  : 

"  Howe  dydd  I  knowe  thatt  ev'ry  darte, 
"  Thatt  cutte  the  airie  waie, 

"  Myghte  nott  fynde  palfage  toe  my  harte* 
"  And  clofe  myne  eyes  for  aie  ? 

"  And  (hall  I  nowe,  forr  feere  of  dethe, 
"  Looke  wanne  and  bee  dyfmayde  ? 

"  Ne  I  fromm  my  herie  flie  childyflie  feere> 
"  Bee  alle  the  manne  difplay'd. 

"  Ah,  goddelyke  Henrie  !  Godde  forefcnde, 
"  And  guarde  thee  and  thye  fonne, 

"  Yff  'tis  hys  wylle  ;  but  yff'tis  nott, 
"  Why  thenne  hys  wylle  bee  donne. 

"  My  honeft  friende,  my  faulte  has  beene 
"  To  ferve  Godde  and  mye  prynce; 

"  And  thatt  I  no  tyme-ferver  am, 

"  My  dethe  wylle  foone  convynce. 

"  Ynne  Londonne  citye  was  I  borne, 

"  Of  parents  of  grete  note ; 
"  My  fadre  dydd  a  nobile  armes 

"  Emblazon  onne  hys  cote  : 

"  I  make  ne  double  butt  hee  ys  gone 
"  Where  loone  I  hope  to  goe  ; 

«'  Where  wee  for  ever  mall  bee  bleftj 
"  FCOQI  oute  the  reech  of  woe-. 


P    O    E 

"  Hee  tarsghtc  mee  jufHce  and  the  laws 

"  Wyth  pitie  to  unite  ; 
"  And  eke  hee  taughte  mee  howe  to  knowe 

"  The  wronge  caufe  fromm  the  ryghte: 

"  Hee  taughte  mee  wyth  a  prudent  hande 

"  To  feede  the  hungrie  poore, 
"  Ne  lett  mye  farvants  dryve  awaie 

"  The  hungrie  fromme  my  doore : 

"  And  none  can  faye  butt  alle  mye  lyfe 

"  I  have  hys  wordyes  kept ; 
<c  And  fumm'd  the  a&yonns  of  the  dale 

"  Echc  nyghte  before  I  flept. 

"  I  have  a  fpoufe,  goe  afke  of  her 

"  Yff  I  defyl'd  her  bsdde  ? 
"  I  have  a  kynge,  and  none  can  laie 

"  I31ack  treafon  onnc  my  hedde. 

"  Ynne  Lent,  and  onne  the  holie  eve, 
"  Fromm  flefhe  I  dydd  refrayne  ; 

M  Whie  mould  I  thenne  appeare  difmay'd 
"  To  leave  thys  worlde  of  payne  ? 

"  Ne,  haplefs  Henrie !  I  rejoyce 

"  I  fhall  ne  fee  thye  dethe  ; 
"  Moft  willynglie  ynne  thye  juft  caufe 

"  Doe  I  refign  my  brethe. 

a  Oh,  fickle  people !  rewyn'd  londe  ! 

"  Thou  wylt  kenne  peace  ne  moe ; 
"  Whyle  Richard's  fonnes  exalt  themfelves 

"  Thye  brookes  wythe  bloude  wyllc  flowe. 

u  Sale,  were  ye  tyr'd  of  godlie  peace 

"  And  godlie  Henric's  reigne, 
"  Thatt  you  dyd  choppe  your  eafie  daies 

"  For  thofe  of  bloude  and  peyne  ? 

*'  Whatte  though  I  onne  a  fledde  be  drawne, 

"  And  mangled  by  a  hynde, 
"  I  doe  defye  the  traytor's  pow'r, 

"  Hee  can  ne  harm  my  mynde ; 

M  Whatte  though,  uphoifted  onne  a  pole, 
"  Mye  lymbes  fhall  rotte  ynne  ayre, 

"  And  ne  ryche  monument  of  brale 

"  Charles  Bawdin's  name  fhall  bear ; 

"  Yett  ynne  the  holie  book  above, 
"  Whyche  tyme  can't  eate  awaie, 

*  There  wythe  the  farvants  of  the  Lord 
"  Mye  name  (hall  ly ve  for  aie. 

•4  Thenne  welcome  dethe  !  for  lyfe  eterne 

"  I  leave  thys  mortall  lyfe  : 
"  Farewell  vayne  worlde,  and  all  that's  deare, 

"  Mye  fonnes  and  lovynge  wyfe  ! 

"  Nowe  dethe  as  welcome  to  mee  comet 

"  As  e'er  the  moneth  of  Maie; 
"  Nor  woulde  I  even  wyfhe  to  lyve, 

"  Wyth  my  dere  wyfe  to  ftaie." 

Quod  Canynge,  "  'Tys  a  goodlie  thynge 

""  <c  To  bee  prepar'd  to  die; 
"  And  from  thys  worlde  of  peyne  and  grefc 
"  To  Godde  ynns  heav'n  to  flie." 

And  nowe  the  belle  began  to  tolle, 

And  claryonnes  to  found ; 
Syr  Charles  hee  herds  the  horfes  feete 

A  prauncyng  onne  the  grounde ; 


M    9. 

And  juft  before  the  officer* 

His  lovynge  wyfe  came  ynne, 

Weepynge  unfeigned  teerj  of  woe, 
Wythe  loudc  and  dyfmalle  dynne. 

"  Sweet  Florence  !  nowe  I  praie  forbere, 

"  Ynn  quiet  lett  mee  die  ; 
"  Praie  Godde  that  ev'ry  Chriftian  foulc 

"  Maye  looke  onnc  dethe  as  I. 

"  Sweet  Florence  !  why  thefe  brinie  teers  ? 

"  Theye  walhe  my  foule  awaie, 
"  And  almoft  make  mee  wyfhe  for  lyfe, 

"  Wyth  thee,  fweete  dame,  to  ibuc. 

"  'Tyi  butt  a  journie  I  fhallc  goe 

"  Untoe  the  lande  of  blyfle  ; 
"  Nowe,  as  a  proofe  of  hufbande's  love, 

"  Receive  thys  holie  kyffe." 

Thenne  Florence,  fault'ring  ynne  her  faic, 
Tremblynge  thefe  wordyes  fpoke, 

"  Ah,  cruele  Edwarde !  blondie  kynge  ! 
"  Mye  herte  ys  welle  nyghe  broke : 

"  Ah,  fweete  Syr  Charles !  why  wylt  thou  g 
"  Wythoute  thye  lovynge  wyfe  ? 

"  The  cruelle  axe  thatt  cuttes  thye  necke, 
"  Ytte  eke  fhall  ende  mye  lyfe." 

And  nowe  the  officers  came  ynne 
To  brynge  Syr  Charles  awaie^ 

Whoe  turnedd  toe  hys  lovynge  wyfe, 
And  thus  Co  her  dydd  laie  : 

"  I  goe  to  lyfe,  and  nott  to  dethe ; 

"  Trufte  thou  ynne  Godde  abore, 
"  And  teache  thy  fonnes  to  feare  the  Lorde, 

"  And  ynne  thcyre  hertes  hym  love : 

"  Teache  them  to  runne  the  nobile  race. 

"  Thatt  I  theyre  fader  runne ; 
"  Florence  !  fhou'd  dethe  thee  take — adieu  t 

"  Yee  officers  leade  onne." 

Thenne  Florence  rav'd  as  anie  madde, 

And  dydd  her  treffestere; 
"  Oh  ftaic  mye  hufbande,  lorde,  and  lyfe  !"— 

Syr  Charles  thenne  dropt  a  teare. 

'Tyll  tyredd  oute  wythe  ravyngc  loude, 

Shce  fellen  onne  the  flore  ; 
Syr  Charles  exerted  alle  hys  myghte, 

And  march'd  fromm  oute  the  dore.. 

Uponne  a  fledde  hee  mounted  thenne, 
Wythe  lookes  fulle  brave  andfwete; 

Lookes  thatt  enfhone  ne  moe  concern 
Thanne  anie  ynne  the  ftrete. 

Before  hym  went  the  council-menne, 
Ynne  fcarlett  robes  and  golde, 

And  taffils  fpanglynge  ynne  the  fuune, 
Muchc  glorious  to  beholdc: 

The  Freers  of  Seincte  Auguftyne  next 

Appeared  to  the  fyghte, 
Alle  cladd  ynne  horaelie  ruffett  weed«»j 

Of  godlie  monkyfh  plyghte  ; 

Vnne  diffraunt  partes  a  godlie  pfaume 
Mode  fweetlie  tlieye  dydchaunt; 

Bohynde  theyre  backes  fyx  mynfbrellcs  Ufae^ 
Who  tuu'd  the  ftiunge  battunt, 


313 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTKRTON. 


Thenne  fyve-and-twenty  archers  came ; 

Echone  the  bowe  dydd  bcnde, 
From  refcue  of  Kynge  Henries  friends 

Syr  Charles  forr  to  defend. 

Bolde  as  a  lyon  came  Syr  Charles, 

Drawne  onne  a  cloth-layde  fledde, 

Bye  two  blacke  ftedes  ynne  trappynges  white, 
Wyth  plumes  uponne  theyre  hedde  : 

Bebynde  hym  fyve-and-twenty  moe 

Of  archers  ftronge  and  ftoute, 
Wyth  bended  bowe  echone  ynne  hande, 

Marched  ynne  goodlie  route  : 

Sein&e  Jameses  Freers  mnrched  next, 

Echone  hys  parte  dydd  chaunt ; 
Behynde  theyre  backes  fyx  mynftrelles  came, 

Who  tun'd  the  ftrunge  bataunt : 

t 
Thenne  came  the  maior  and  eldermennc, 

Ynne  clothe  of  fcarlett  deck't . 
And  theyre  attendyng  menne  echone, 

Lyke  eafterne  princes  trick't : 

And  after^them  a  multitude 

Of  citizenns  dydd  thronge  ; 
The  wyndowes  were  alle  fulle  of  heddes 

As  hee  dydd  paffe  alonge. 

And  whenne  hee  came  to  the  hyghe  croffe, 
Syr  Charles  dydd  turne  and  faie, 

"  O  thou  thatt  faveft  manne  fromme  fynne, 
"  Wafhe  mye  foule  clean  thys  daie  I" 

Att  the  grete  mynfter  wyndowe  fat 
The  kynge  ynne  myckle  ftate, 

To  fee  Charles  Bawdin  goe  alonge 
To  hys  moft  welcom  fate. 

Soone  as  the  fledde  drewe  nyghe  enowe 
Thatt  Edwarde  hee  myghte  heare, 

The  brave  Syr  Charles  hee  dydd  ftande  uppe, 
And  thus  hys  wordes  declare : 

*  Thou  feeft  me,  Edwarde !  traytour  vile ! 

"  Expos' d  to  infaniie ; 
*'  Butt  bee  aflur'd,  difloyall  manne  ! 
"  I'm  greaterr  nowe  thanne  thee. 

*c  Bye  foule  proceedyngs,  murdre,  bloude, 
"  Thou  weareft  nowe  a  crowne ; 

"  And  haft  appoynted  mee  to  die, 
"  By  power  nott  thyiie  owne. 

«'  Thou  thynkeft  1  fhall  dye  to-daie ; 

"  I  have  beene  dcde  'till  nowe, 
H  And  foone  fhall  ly  ve  to  weare  a  crowne 

"  For  aie  uponne  my  browe : 

"  Whylft  thou,  perhapps,  for  fom  few  yeares, 
"  Shalt  rule  thys  fickle  lande, 

**  To  lett  them  knowe  howe  wyde  the  rule 
"  'Twixt  kynge  and  tyrant  hande  -. 

*  Thye  pow'r  unjuft,  thou  traytour  flave  ! 

"  Shall  falle  onne  thye  owne  hedde"— 
Fromm  out  of  hearyng  of  the  kynge 
Departed  thenne  the  fledde. 

ICynpe  Edwarde's  foule  rufh'd  to  hys  facey 
Hee  (urn'd  hys  htddc  awaic, 


And  to  hys  brodcr  Glouceftcr 

Hee  thus  dydd  fpeke  and  faie  . 

To  hym  that  foe  much  dreaded  dethe, 

"  Nc  ghaftlie  terrors  biynge, 
Beholde  the  manne  !  hee  fpake  the  truthe, 

"  Hee's  greater  thanne  a  kynge  !" 

"  Soe  lett  hym  die  !"  Duke  Richarde  fayde  ; 

"  And  maye  echone  cure  foes 
"  Bende  downe  theyre  neckes  to  bloudie  axe, 

"  And  fecde  the  carryon  crowes." 

And  nowe  the  horfesgentlie  drewe 

Syr  Charles  uppc  the  hyghe  hylle ; 

The  axe  dydd  glyfterr  ynne  the  funne, 
His  pretious  bloude  to  fpylle. 

Syr  Charles  dydd  uppe  the  fcaffold  goe, 

As  uppe  a  gilded  carre 
Of  vi<ftorye,  bye  val'rous  chiefs 

Gayn'd  ynne  the  bloudie  warre: 

And  to  the  people  hee  dyd  faie, 

"  Beholde  you  fee  mee  dye, 
"  For  fervynge  loyally  mye  kynge, 

"  Mye  kynge  moft  ryghtfullie. 

"  As  longe  as  Edwarde  rules  thys  land?, 

"  Ne  quiet  you  wylle  knowe  : 
"  Your  fonnes  and  hufbandes  fhalle  kee  flayne, 

"  And  brookes  wytlie  bloude  fliall  flowe. 

"  You  leave  your  goode  and  lawfulle  kynge 

"  Whenne  ynne  adverfitye  ; 
"  Lyke  mee,  untoe  the  true  caufe  ftycke, 

"  And  for  the  true  caufe  dye." 

Thenne  hee,  \vyth  preefte?,  uponne  hys  knees, 

A  pray'r  to  Godde  dyd  make, 
Befeechynge  hym  unto  hymfelfe 

Hys  partynge  foule  to  take. 

Thenne,  kneelynge  downe,  hee  layd  hys  hedde 
Moft  feemlie  onne  the  blocke; 

Whyche  fromme  hys  bodie  fayre  at  once 
The  able  heddes-manne  itroke : 

And  oute  the  bloude  beganne  to  flowc, 
And  rounde  the  fcaffolde  twyne  ; 

And  teares,  enow  to  wafhe't  awaie, 

Dydd  flowe  fromme  each  mann's  eyne. 

The  bloudie  axe  hys  bodie  fayre 

Ynnto  foure  partes  cutte  ; 
And  ev'rye  parte,  and  eke  hys  hedde, 

Uponne  a  pole  was  putte. 

One  parte  dyd  rotte  onne  Kynwulph-hylle, 

One  onne  the  mynfter -tower, 
And  one  from  off  the  caftle-gate 

The  crowen  dydd  devoure : 

The  other  onne  Seyncfle  Powle's  goode  gate» 

A  dreery  fpedlacle ; 
Hys  hedde  was  pluc'd  onne  the  hyghe  crofle, 

Ynne  hyghe-ftreete  moft  nobile. 

Thus  w?.s  the  ende  of  Bawdin's  fate  : 
Godde  profper  longc  cure  kynge, 

And  grante  hee  maye, '\vyth  Bawdin's  foule,' 
Ynne  heav'n  Godd's  mercie  fynge  ! 


POEMS. 


A  Tragycal  interlude,  or  Difcoorfeyng  Tragedy. 
Wrotenn  bie  Thomas  Rowleie  ;  Plaiedd  before 
JMaftre  Canyngc,  atte  hys  Hoivfc  nernpte  the 
Roitde  Lodge  ;  alfoe  before  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folck,  yoba/i  Ho'M.ird. 


FERSONNES  REPRESENTEDD. 

hie  Thomas  Ro'wleie^  Pree/lc,  the  AuEt- 
bour, 

CELMONDE.  Johan  Ifcnrnm,  Preefte. 
HURRA,  Syrr  Thybbatte  Gorges,  Knyghtc. 
BIRTIIA,  Maftre  Ediuarde  Canynge. 

Oderr  Partss  bie  Knyghtes  Mynjtrelies. 

EPISTLE  TO  MASTRE  CANYNGE,  ON 
./ELLA. 

'Tys  fonge  bie  mynftrclles,  tbatte  yn  auntyent 

tym, 
Whan    reafonn  hylt  I    herfelfe    in  cloudes  of 

nyghte, 

The  prtefte  delyvered  alle  the  lege  ^  yn  rhym ; 
Lyche  peync"led3  tyltynge  fpeares  to  pleafe  the 

fyghte,  [dere  5, 

The  whycheyn  yttesfelle  ufe  doe  make  moke  4 

Syk  dyd  theire  auncyante   lee  deftlie  6  delyghte 

the  eare. 

ferchaunce  yn  vyrtues  gate  7  rhym  mote  bee 

thenne, 

Butte  efte  S  nowe  flyeth  to  the  odher  fyde  ; 
In  haliie't)  preelte  apperes  the  ribaudeslo  penne, 
Inue  lithie  1 1    moncke  apperes  the  barronnes 

pryde:  [teethe. 

But  rhym  wyth  fomme,  as  nedere  12  without 

Make  pleafaunce  to  the  lenfe,  botte  maie  doe  lyt- 

tel  fcathe  13. 

Syr  Johne,  a  knyghte,  who  hath  a  barne  of 

lore  14, 
Kenns  15  Latyn  at  fyrft  fyghte  from  French  or 

Greke,  ••        [more, 

Pyghtethe  16  hys  knowlachyngei7  tenyeres  or 

To  rynge  upon  the  Litynne  worde  to  1'peke. 

Whoever  i'peke  the  Englyfch  ys  defpyfed, 

The  Englyfch  hym  to  pleafe  mofte  fyrfte  be  La- 

tynized. 

Vevyan,  a  moncke,  a  good  requiem  iS  fynges: 
Can  preache  fo  wele,  eche  hynde  ip  hys  me- 

neynge  knowes; 

Albeytte  thefe  gode  guyfts  awaic  he  flynges, 

Beeynge  as  badde  yn  vearfe  as  goode  yn  profe. 

Hee  fyngesof  feynftes  who  dyed  for  yer  Godde 

Zverych  wynter  nyghte  alrekhe  he  flieddes  theyr 

bloode. 

To  maydens,  hufwyfes,  and  unlored  20  dames, 
Hee  redes  hys  tales  of  merryment  and  woe. 


i  Hid,  concealed.  2  law.  3  painted.  4  much 
5  hurt,  damage.  6  fweetly.  7  caufe.  S  oft.  < 
fcoly.  lo  rake,  lewd  parfon.  n  humble.  1 2  ad 
der.  13  hurt,  damage.  14  learning.  15  knows. 
1 6  plucks,  or  tortures.  17  knowledge.  18  a  fer- 
vice  ufed.over  the  dead,  i^peafant.  39  un 
learned. 


Loughe  21  loudlie  dynneih  22  from  the  dolte  23 

adrames  14; 
He  fwelles  on  laudes  of  fooles,  though  kennes  25 

hem  foe. 

Sommetyme  at  tragedie  theie  laughe  and  fynget 
At  merrie  yaped  26  fage  27  fomme  hard-drayned 

water  brynge. 

Yette  Vevyan  ys  ne  foole,  beyinde  28  hys  lynes. 
Geolroie  makes  vearte,  as  handycraftes  theyr 

ware  ; 
Wordes  wythoute  fenfe  fulle  groflfyngelye  29 

he  twynes, 

Cotteynge  hys  ftorie  off  as  wythe  a  fheere; 
Waytes  monthes  on  nothynge,  and  hys  ftorie 

donne, 
Ne  moe  you  from  ytte  kcnn,  than  gyf^o  you 

necre  begonne. 

Enowe  of  odhers;  of  miefelfe  to  write, 
Requyrynge  whatt  I  doe  notte  nowe  poflefs. 
To  you  I  leave  the  taike;  I  kenne  youre  my  g  lite 
Wyll  make   mie   faultes,    mie  meynte3z    of 

faultes,  be  lefs. 

./Ella  wythe  thys  I  fende,  and  hope  that  you 
Wylle  from  ytte  cafte  awaie,  whatte  lynes  maie 

be  untrue. 

Playes  made  from  hallie  31  tales  I  holde  uu- 

meete ; 

Lette  fomme  greate  ftorie  of  a  manne  be  fonge ; 
Whanne,  as  a  manne,  we  Godde  and  Jefustreate, 
In  mie  pore  myndc,  we  doe  the  Godhedde 

wronge. 
Botte  lette  ne  wordes,  whyche  droorie33  mote 

ne  heare, 
Bee  placed  yn  the  fame.  Adieu  untylle  anere  34. 

THOMAS  ROWLEIE. 

LETTER  TO  THE  DYNGE  MASTRE 
CANYNGE. 

STRAUNGE  dome  ytte  ys,  that,  yn  thefe  daies  of 

cures, 

Nete35  butte  a  bare  recytalle  can  hav  place; 
Nowe  fliapelie  poefie  haft  lofte  yttes  powers, 
And  pynant  hyftorie  ys  onlie  grace  ;' 
Heie  36  pycke  up  wolfome  weedes,  ynftedde  of 

flowers, 

And  famylies,  ynftedde  of  wytte,  theie  trace ; 
Now  poefie  canne  meete  wythe  ne  regrate  ^7, 
Whylfte  profe,  and  herehaughtrie38,  ryfeyn  eftate. 

Lette   kynges  and   rulers,    when   heie  gayne  a 

throne, 
Shewe  what  theyre  grandfieres,  and  great  grand* 

fieres  bore, 

Emarfchalledarmes,  yatte,  ne  before  theyre owne, 
Now  raung'd  wyth  whatt  yeir  fadres  han  before  ; 
Lette  trades  and  toune  folck,  lett  fyke  39  thynges 

alone, 
Ne  fyghte  for  fable  yn  a  fielde  of  aurc  ; 

21  Laugh.  22  founds,  23  foolifli.  »4churb. 
25  knows.  26  laughable.  27  tale,  jeft.  33  be 
yond.  29  fooliflily.  30  if.  31  many.  32  holy. 
33  ftrange  perverfion  of  worus.  Drcorie,  in  in 
ancient  iignification,  ftood  fur  medrfy.  34  another. 
35  nought.  31$  thev.  37e:':ecui.  'S-ueraldrj. 
3y  fuch. 


THE  WORKS  OF  CH  AT  TER.  TOtf. 


Seldomm,  or  never  are  srmes  vyrtues  mede, 
Slice  nillynge40  to  take  myckle/ji  aie  dothc  hcde. 

A  man  afcaunfe  upponna  piece  maye  looKe, 
And  fliake  hys  hedde  to  ftyrre  hys  rede  42  about;e  ; 
Quod  he,  gyf  I  aftaunted  oere  thys  booke, 
Schulde  fynde  thereyn  that  trouthe  ys  left  wyth- 

oute; 

Eke,  gyf  43  ynto  a  vew  percafe44  I  tooke 
The  long*  beade-rolle  of  al  the  wrytynge  route, 
Aflerius,  Ingolphus,  Torgptte,  Bedde, 
Thorow  hem  45  al  nete  lyche  ytt  I  coulde  rede.-— 

Pardon,  yee  Graiebarbes46,  gyffl  faie,  onwife 
Yec  are,  to  itycke  fo  dofe  and  byfmarelie47 
To  hyltorie  ;  you  doe  ytte  tooe  muche  pryze, 
Whyche  amenuled  48  thoughtes  of  pcefie ; 
Somme  drybblette49  fliare  you  flioulde  to  yatte  £e 

alyte  51,  • 

Nott  makynge  everyche  thynge  bee  hyftorie  ; 
Jnftedde  of  mountynge  onn  a  wynged  horfe, 
You  onn  a  rcmncy  51  dryve  ya  dolefull  courfe. 

Cannynge  and  I  from  common  courfe  dyffente ; 
Wee  ryde  the  ftede,  botte  yev  to  hym  the  reene ; 
Ke  wylle  betweene  crafed  "molterynge  bookes  be 

pente,  [flieene ; 

$otte  foare  on  hyghe,  and  yn  the  fonne-beemes 
And  where  wee  kenr.e  fomme  ifhad  54  floures  be- 

fprente, 

We  take  ytte,  and  from  ouWe  roufte  doe  ytte  clene ; 
Wee  wylle  ne  cheynedd  to  one  pafture  bee, 
Botte  fometymes  foare  'bove  trouthe  of  hiftorie. 

Sale,  Canynge,  whatt  was  vearfe  yn  daies  of  yore  ? 
Tyne  thoughtes,  and  couplettes'  fetyvelie  54  be- 

wryen  55, 

Nctte  fyke  as  doe  annoie  thys  age  fo  fore, 
A  keppened  poyntelle  56  reftynge  at  eche  lyne. 
Vene  male  be  goode,  botte  poefie  wantes  more, 
An  onlift  57  lefturn  58,  and  a  fonge  adynge  59 ; 
Accordynge  to  the  rule  1  have  thys  wroughte, 
Gyff  ytt  pleafe  Canynge,  I  care  notte  a  groate. 

The  thynge  ytts  mofle  bee  yctfelf  owne  defenfe  ; 
Som  metre  male  notte  pleafe  a  womannes  ear.     - 
Canynge  lookes  notte  for  poefie,  botte  fenfe ; 
And  dygne,  and  wordie  thoughtes,  ys  all  hys  care." 
Canynge,  adieu  !   I  do  you  greete  from  hence ; 
Full  foone  I  hope  to  tafte  of  your  good  cheere  ; 
Goode  Byflioppe  Carpynter  dyd  byd  naee  faie, 
Hee  wyfche  you  healthe  and  felinefle  for  aie. 

T.  R.OWLEIS. 

ENTRODUCTIONNE. 

SoMME  cherifannce  60  it  ys  gentle  mynde, 
Whan  heie  have  chevyced  6l  theyre  londe  from 
bayne  62, 


•  4oUnwillTng.  41  much.  4:  wifdom,  coun 
cil.  43  if.  44  perchance.  45  them.  46  Gray- 
beards.  47  curioufly.  4?  leffened.  49  fmall. 
jo  that.  5  tallow.  5-3  cart-horie.  53  broken. 
54  elegantly.  55  declared,  eStprefled.  56  a  pen, 
«ff  d  metaphorically  as  a  mufe  or  genius.  57  bound- 
sSfubjecT:.  59  nervous,  worthy  of  praife. 
$i  prcfetv«d.  61  ruin. 


Whan  theie  ardedd,  thee  leave  yer  name  be 

A.nd  thyre  goade  deedesdoe  on  the  earthe  remayne  ; 

Downe   yn   the  grave  wee  ynhyme  63    everyche 

fteyne, 

Whyleft  al  her  gentleneffe  ys  made  to  Iheene, 
Lyche  fetyvc  baubels  64  geafonne  65  to  be  feene. 

JSLllt.  the  wardenne  of  thys  66  cartel!  67  ftede, 
Whyleft  Saxons  dyd  the  Englyfch  fccptre  fwaie, 
Who  made  whole  troopes  of  Dacyan  men  to  biede, 
Then  feel'd68  hys«eyne,  and  feeled  hys  eyne  for 

aie, 

Wee  rowze  Jiym  uppe  before  the  judgment  daie, 
To  faie  what  he,  as  clergyond  69  can  kenne, 
And  howe  hee  fojourned  in  the  vale  of  men. 

CELMONDE,  ATT  BRYSTOWE. 

BEFORE  yonneroddie  fonne  hasdroovehyswayne 
Throwe  halfe  hys  jnornie,  dyghte  yn  gites  i   of 

goulde, 
Mee,  happelefs  mee,  hee  wylle  a  wretche  be- 

houlde, 
Miefelfe,  and  al  that's  myne,  bounde  ynne  myf- 

chaunces  chayne. 

Ah,  Birtha !    whie  dydde  natyre  frame  ihee 

fayre  ?  [wreene  3 

.  Whie  art  thou  all  that  poyntelle  2  canne  be- 
Whie  art  thou  not  as  coarfe  as  odhers  are  ?— 
Botte  thenn  thie  foughle  woulde  throwe  thy 

vyfage  fheene, 

Yatt  fhemres  onn  thie  comelie  femlykeene  4, 
Lyche    nottcbrowne    cloudes,    whann  bie   the 

fonne  made  redde, 
Orr   fcarlette,    wythe    waylde  .  lynnen   clothe 

y  wreene  5,  [fpredde. 

Syke  6  woulde  thie  fpryte  upponn  thie   vyfage 
Thys  daie  brave  Jtlla  dothe  thyne   honde  and 

harte 
Clayme  as  hys  owne  to  be,  whyche  nee  fromna 

hys  mofte  parte. 

And  cann  I  ly  ve  to  fee  herr  wythe  anerc  7  1 
Ytt  cannotte,  tnufte  notte,  naie,  ytt  fliall  not 

bee.  [beere, 

Thys  nyghte  I'll  putte  ftronge  pcyfonn  ynn  the 
And  bymm,  herr,  and  myfelfe,  attenes  8   wyll 

flea.  [tende» 

Aflfyfl  mee,  helle !    lett   devylles  rounde  mee 

To  fleamiefelfe,  mie  love,  and  eke  naie  doughtiej 

friende. 

.     ^ELLA,  BIRTHA. 

JKlla. 
NOTTE,  whanne  the  hallie  prielte  dyd  make  me 

knyghte,  •' 

Bleflynge  the  weaponne,  tellynge  future  dede, 
Howe  bie  mie  honde  the  prevyd  lo  Dane  fboulde 
*  blede,  [fyg^'e ; 

Howe  I  fchulde  often  bee,  and  often  wynne,  yna 


6,1  Inter.  64  jewels.  6$.  rare.  66  Briftol. 
67  caftle.  63  clofed.  69  taught.— i  Robes,  man 
tels,  a  n  pe H.  3  exprefs.  4  countenance.  1 5  co 
vered.  6fuch.  7  anothel1.  8  at  once.  9  nr.i^hty. 
ic,  hifty,  valor.us. 


P    O 

Nolle,  wljann  I  fyrfle  behelde  tliie  beauteous 

hue, 
Whyche  ftropke  mie  mynde,  and  rouzed  mie 

ioiter  fou/<:  ; 
Nott  whaim  from  the  barbed  horfe  yn  fyghte 

dyd  viewe. 

Th«  dying  Dacians  o'er  the  wyde  playne  roule, 
Whan  ail  the  troopes  of  Denmarque  made  grete 

dole, 

Dydd  I  feie  joie  wyth  fyke  reddouren  as  nowe, 
Whann  halliepreelt,  thelechemanneofthe  iuule, 
Dydd  knytte  tisboth  ynu  r\  caytyfnnede  12  vowe: 
Now  halite  ./Ella's  felyneffc  ys  grate; 
Shap  13  havcth  nowe  ymade  hys  woes  for  to  (.in 

mate  14. 

Birtla. 

My  lorde  and  hiifbaiide,  fyke  a  joie  ys  myne  ; 
Botte  maydcn  morielHe  multe  ne  foe  faie, 
Albeytte  thou  mayeit  rede  ytt  ynn  myne  eyne, 
Or  yuj)  myne  harte,  where  thou  ihalt  be  for  aie  , 
lone   fothe,  I    have    botte    ineeded   oute   thie 

faie  i  5  ; 
For  twelve  tynaes  twelve  the  more  hathe  bin 

yblente  16, 

As  manie  tymes  hathe  vyed  the  godde  of  diie, 
And  on  the  graffe  her  lernes  17  of  fylverr  fente, 
Sythethou.dydft  checK  mee  for  thie  fwotetobce, 
JEnadlynge  ynn  the  fame  moft  faiefullie  to  mee. 
Ofte  have  I  feene  thee  atte  the  none-daie  feafte, 
Whanne  deyfde  bie  thiefelfe,  for  wante  of 

pheeresiS,  [jeafte, 

Awhylft   thie    merryemen   dydde   laughe    and 
Onn  mee  thou  feme  It  all  eyne,  to  mee  all  eares, 
Thou  wardelt  rr.ee  P.S  gyff  ynn  hondred  feeres, 
Aleft  a  daygnousip  looke  to  thee  be  fente, 
•    And  offrendes  20  made  mee^  moe  thann  yie  conr- 

pheeres, 
Offe  fcarpeszi    of    fcarlette,    and   fyne   para- 

mente  22  ; 

.    All  thie.  yntente  te  pleafe  was  lyfiedzj  to  mee, 
I  faie  ytt,  1  mofte  ftreve  that*,  you  ameded  bee'. 


Mie  lyttel  kyndnefles  whyche  I  dydd  dee, 
:    Thie  gentlenefs  doth  corven  them  fo  grete, 
..  Lyke   bawfyne  24  olyphauntes25   mie.  g;i?.tles 
doe  flie  we  ;  [mate  26. 

Thou    dofte  .mie  thoughtes  of  paying  love  a- 
^Bdtte  haim  my  a&yonnes  ftraughte  27.  the  rolle 

of  fate, 

Pyghte   thee  fromm  hell,  or  broughte  Leaven 
down  to  tbee,  [feete, 

Layde  the  whol    wurlde  a  falldftole  att  ,thic 
On  fmyle  woulde  be  fuftycyll  mede»for  mee. 
1  amm  Iove'<  borra'r,  and  carme  never  paie, 
But  bee  hys  bon-ov/cr  itylie,  and  thjnne,'mie 
fwete,  for  aic. 

,     .  Birila. 
Love,  doe  notte  rate  y.  ur   achevmentes  28  foe 

fm, 
,  As  I  tor  )  on,  fyke  love  untge  mee  boare  ; 

ii  Violence.     12  binding,'  enforcing.      13  fate. 
r4lefler,dccneafe.  1  5fa-ith.  '  iG  Minded.   17  lights, 
rays.     1  8  fellows,  equals,     i^difdiiriful.-   aopre- 
•  'lejijigb.       iii'ijiiifi.    .  2  2  robes  of  fcarltU 
23  bounded.       24  large.      25  elephaMs.       26"de- 

27  ilretctied.  ' 

Vol.  XL 


E    M    S.  33? 

For  nothynge  nnfte  wille  Sirtha  ever  call, 
Ne  on  a  footle  from  heaven  tliynke  ro  c>i 
Asfarr  as  thys  frayle  brutyllc  flelch  wylle  fpere. 
Syke,  and  ne  fardher  I  expecle  of. you  ; 
Be  notte  toe  flacke  yn  love,  ne  overdeare  ; 
A  Imalle  f/re,  yan   a  lourfe  flame,  proves  more 
true. 

JElla. 

Thie  gentle  wordisdoe  thie  vblunde  19  kenne    - 
To  bte  moe  clergionJe  thann  ys  ynn  mcyncle  of 
menne. 

JfLLLA,  BIRTH  A,  CELMONDE,  MYN- 
STRELLES. 

Cclmonde. 

ALLE  bleflynges  flibwre  on  gentle  JFllla's  heddc  1 
Oft   maie   the   monne,    yn   fylverr   flifi 

lyghte, 

Inne  varied  chaunges  varyed  blcflynges  fl. 
Befprengeynge  far  abrode  milchaunces  nyghte; 
And  thou,  fay  re  Birtha  !  thou,  tayre  dame,  fo 

bryghte, 

Long  mayeft  thou  wyth  /Ella  fynde  muche  pearc, 
Wythe  felynefle,  as  wythe  a  roabe,  be  dyghte, 
Wyth  everych  chailngynge  mone  new  joits  en- 

creafe  !     , 

I,  as  a  token  of  mie  love  to  fpeake,. 
Have  brought  you  jubbes  of  aie,  at  nyglite  you  re 
brayne  to  break;. 

JElla. 
\\Tian  fupperes  pafte  w-e'lle  drcnchc  yourc 

ftronge, 
Tydelyfe/tyde  death. 

Celmonde. 
Ye  mynftrelle's,  chaunt  your  fongf . 

Mynflrelles  Sovge,  bie  a  JManne  and  Womanuc. 

Marine. 

Tourne  thee  to  thie  fliepfterr  30  fwayne  ; 
Bryghte  fonne  has  ne  dronke  the  de\vc 
From  the  flour(;s  of  yellowe  hv.e  ; 
Tourne  thee,- Alyce,  backe  agayne. 

M  omdttne. 

No,.beftoikerre3i,  I'wylle  yoe, 
Softlie  tryppynge  o'ere  the  mees32, 
Lyche  the  fylver-footed  doe, 
Seekeynge  flielterr  yn  grene  trees. 

Maunc. 

See  the  mofs-growne  daifey'd  banke  ; 
Pereynge  ynne  the  ftreme  belowe  ; 
Here  we'lle  fytte,  yn  dewie  danke; 
Tourne  thee,  Alyce,  do  notte  goe. 

IVomannr.. 

I've  hearde  erftemie  granclame  faie, 
Younge  damoyfellcs  iciiulde  ne  bee, 
Inne  the  fwotiefnoonthe  of  rvlaie, 
Wythe  yongc- menne  bie;  tlic  grenc  \voilc  trir. 

Marntr. 

Sytte  thee, .Alyce,  fytte  and  harkc, 
Howre  tlie  ou;;le  33  chauntes^iys  ncate, 
The  ehelandree  34,  greie  mon. 
Chauntyiige  from  theyre  lytttl  • 


,  underftanding.  30(1.0; 

ceiver.  "s?  meadows.    33  Tl»e  biac1;bird 

. 
'.IW- 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTERTON. 


J  heare  them  from  eche  grene  wode  tree, 
Chauntynge  owte  fo  blanntantlie  35, 
Tellynge  Tecturnyes  36  to  mee, 
Myfcbeefe  ys  whanne  you  are  nygh. 

Manne. 

See  alonge  the  rnees  fo  grene 
Pied  daifies,  kynge-coppes  fwote ; 
AHe  wee  fee,  bie  non  bee  feene, 
Nette  botte  fhepe  fettes  here  a  fote. 

Womanne. 

Shepfter  fwayne,  you  tare  mie  gratche  37. 
0ute  uponne  ye  !  lette  me  goe. 
Leave  me  fwythe,  or  I'll  alatche. 
Robynne,  thys  youre  dame  ftiall  knowp. 

Manne. 

See,  the  crokynge  brionie 
Rounde  the  popler  twyfte  hys  fpraie  $ 
Rounde  the  oake  the  greene  ivie 
Florryfchethe  and  ly vefh  aie. 

Lette  us  feate  us  bie  thys  tree, 
Laughe,  and  fynge  fo  lovynge  ayres  j 
Commie,  and  doe  nofte  coyen  bee  ; 
Nature  made  all  thynges  bie  payres. 
Drooried  cattes  wylle  after  kynde  ; 
Gentle  doves  wylle  kyfs  and  coe. 

Womanne. 

Botte  manne,  hee  mode  beeJywrynde, 
Tylle  fyr  preefte  make  on  of  two. 

Tempte  mee  ne  to  the  foule  thynge } 
I  wylle  no  mannes  lemanne  be; 
Tyll  fyr  preeft  hys  fonge  doethe  fynge, 
Thou  {halt  neere  fynde  aught  of  mee. 

Manne. 

Bie  cure  ladie  her  yborne, 
To-morrowe,  foone  as  ytte  ys  daie, 
I'lle  make  thee  wyfe,  ne  bee  forfworne, 
So  tyde  me  lyfe  or  dethe  for  aie. 

Womanne. 

Whatt  dothe  lette,  botte  thatte  nowe 
Wee  attenes  38,  thos  honde  yn  honde, 
Pnto  divinftre  30  goe, 
And  bee  lyncked  yn  wedlocke  bonde  ? 

Manne. 

I  agree,  and  thus  I  plyghte 
Honde,  and  harte,  and  all  that's  myne  ; 
Goode  fyr  Rogerr,  do  us  ryghte, 
Make  us  one,,  at  Cothbertes  fliryne. 

Bothe. 

Wee  wylle  ynn  a  bprdelle  49  lyve, 
Halie,  thoughe  of  no  eftate ; 
Everycbe  clocke  moe  love  fhall  gyve : 
Wee  ynngodenefle  wylle  bee  greate. 

JElla. 

I  lyche  thys  fonge,  I  lyche  y£t  myckle  well ; 
And  there  ys  monje  for  yer  fyngeynge  nowe ; 
Butte  have  you  nonne  thatt  marriage-bleflynges 
telle? 

Celmonde. 
In  marriage,  bleflynges  are  botte  fewe,  I  trowe. 

Mynftrellet. 
laverde  41,  we  have ;    and,   gyff  you  pleafe, 

willfe  fynge, 
As  well  asowre  choughe-voyces  wyllepermytte. 

-55  Loudly.  36  lectures.   37  apparel.   38|atonce         42  Stretch.      43  under.     44  naked.      45  hot. 
j%  a  diviae.  40  a  cottage.  41  iord,  46  health. 


Comme  then,   and  fee  you  fwotelie  tune  the 

ftrynge, 

And  ftret  42,  and  engyne  all  the  human  wytte, 
Toe  pleefe  mie  dame. 

Myn/Irelles. 

We'lle  ftrayne  our  wytte  and  fynge. 

MYNSTRELLES  SONGE. 

Fyrfle  Mynftrelle. 

The  boddynge  rlourettes  blofhes  atte  the  lyghte ; 
The  mees  be  fprenged  wyth  the  yellowe  hue  ; 
Ynn  daifeyd  mantels  ys  the  mountayne  dyghte; 
The  nefh  43  yonge  coweilepe   bendethe  wytk 

the  dewe ; 

The  trees  enlefed,  yntoe  Heavenne  ftraughte, 
Whcnn  gentle  wyndes  doe  blowe,  to  wheftlyng 
dynne  ys  brought. 

The  evenynge  commes,   and  brynges  *he  dewe 

alonge ; 

The  roddie  welkynne  flieeneth  to  the  eyne; 
Arounde    the   aleftake    mynftrells    fynge    the 

fonge : 

Yonge  ivie  ronnde  the  doore  pofte  to  entwyne  ; 
I  laie  mee  on  the  grafTe ;  yette,  to  mie  wylle, 
Albeytte  alle  ys  fayre,  there  lackethe  fomethynge 
ftylle. 

Seeonde  Mynjtrelle 

So  Adam  thoughtenne,  whann,  ynn  Paradyfe, 
All  Heavenn  and  erthe  dy'd  horn  in  age  to  hys 

mynde  ; 

Ynn  womann  alleyne  mannes  pleafaunce  lyes ; 
As  inltrumentes  of  joie  were  made  the  kynde. 
•  Go,  take  a  wyfe  untoe  thie  armes,  and  fee 
Wynter,  and  browniejjylles,  wyll  have  a  charme 
£»r  thee. 

Thyrde  Mynflrelle. 

Whanne  Autumpne  blake  44  and  fonne-brente 
doe  appere,  [lefe, 

With  hys  goulde  honde  guylteynge  the  falleynge 
Bryngeynge  oppe  Wynterr  to  folfylle  the  yere, 
Beerynge  uponne  hys  backe  the  nped  fliefe ; 
Whan  al  the  hyls  wythe  wodcle  fede  ys  whyte  { 
Whanne  levynne-fyres  and  lemes  do  mete  trom 
far  the  fyghte ; 

Whann  the  fayre  apple,  rudde  as  even  fkie, 
Do  bende  the  tree  unto  the  fructyle  grounde  $ 
When  joicie,  peres,  and  berries  of  blacke  die, 
Doe  daunce  yv  ayre,  and  call  the  eyne  arounde; 
Thann,  bee  the  even  foule,  or  even  fayre, 
Meethynckes  mie  hartys  joie  ys  fteynced  wyth 

fomme  care, 

Seeonde  Mynftrtlle. 

Angelles  bee  wrogte  to  bee  of  neidher  kynde ; 
Angelles  alleyne  fromm   chafe  45  defyre   bee 

free; 

Dheere  ys  a  fomwhafte  evere  yn  the  mynde, 
Yatte,  wythout  womanne,  cannot  ftylled  bee  ; 
Ne  fyncte  yn  celles,  botte,  havynge  blodde  and 

tere  46, 
DO  fynde  the  fpryte  to  joie  on  fyghte  of  womaane 

fayre :  . 


P    O    E 

Womtnen  bee  made,  notte  for  hemfelves,  botte 

mannc, 

Bone  of  hys»bone,  and  chyld  of  hys  defire  ; 
Fromme  an  ynutyle  membere  fyrftc  beganne, 
Ywroghte  with  moche  of  water,  lyttele  fyre  ; 
Therefore  theie  feke  the  fyre  of  love  to  hete, 
The  mylkynefs  of  kynde,and  make  hemfclcs  com 
plete. 

Albeytte,  without  wommen,  menne  were 
pheeres  [flea, 

To   falvage   kynde,    and  wulde  botte  lyve  to 

Botte  womenne  efte  the  fpryghte  of  peace  fo 
cheres, 

Tochelod  yn  angel  joi  heie  angeles  bee ; 

Go,  take  thee  fwythyn  47  to  thie  bedde  a  wyfe, 
Bee  bante  or  bldlcd  hie,  yn  proovynge  marry  age 
lyfe. 

Anodber    Mynjtrellet    Songe,    tie    Syr     TkyLkot 
Gorges, 

As  Elynour  bie  the  green  lefielle  was  fyttnyge, 

As  from  the  fones  hete  flie  harried, 
She  fayde,    as  herr  whytte   hondes  whyte  hofen 
was  knyttynge, 

Whatte  pleafure  yt  ys  to  be  married  ! 

Mie  hufbande,  Lord  Thomas,  a  forrefter  boulde, 
As  ever  clove  pynne,  or  the  baflcette, 

Does  no  cheryfauncys  from  Elynour  houlde, 
I  have  ytte  as  faon  as  I  aflc  ytte. 

Whan  i  lyved  wyth  my  fadre  yn  merrie  CMowd- 

dell, 

Though  twas  at  my  liefe  to  mynd  fpynnynge, 
I  ftylle   wanted   fomethynge,   botte   whatte    ne 

couldc  telle, 
Mielorde  fadresbarbde  haulle  han  ne  wynnynge. 

Eche  mornynge  I  ryfe,  doe  I  fette  mie  may  dennes» 
Somme   to  fpynn,  fomme   to   curdell,  fomme 
bleachynge, 

GyfFany  new  entered  doe  aflce  for  mie  widens, 
Thann  fwythynne  you  fyndc  mec  a  teachynge. 

Lord  Walterre,  mie  fadre,  he  lov  'd  me  well, 
And  nothynge  unto  mee  was  ncdeynge, 

Botte  fchulde  I  agen  goc  to  merrie  Cloud-dell, 
In  fothen  twoulde  bee  wythoute  redeynge. 

Shec  fayde,  and  Lorde  Thomas  came  over  the  lea> 
As  hee  the  fatte  derkynnes  was  chacynge, 

She  putte  uppe  her  knyttynge  and  to  him  wente 

fhce; 
So  wee  leave  hem  bothe  kyndelie  embracynge. 

JEUa. 

I  lyche  eke  thys ;  goe  ynn  untoe  the  feafte ; 
Wee  wylle  permytte  you  amecedente  bee : 
There  fwotelie  fyngt  cche  catolle,  and  yaped 

48  jcaik- ; 

And  there  ys  monnie,  that  you  merrie  bee  ; 
Comme,  gentle  love,  wee  wylle  toe  fpoufe- 

feafte  goe, 
And  there  ynn  ale  and  wyne  bee  dryn&ed  49 

everych  woe. 


47  Quickly.    48.  laughable.    49:  drowned. 


M    3. 


339 


.ELLA,  B1RTHA,  CELMONDE,  MESSEN- 
GERE. 

Mfffengere. 

./Ei.  LA,  the  Danes  ar  thondrynge  onn  our  coafle ; 
Lyche  fcolles  of  locufts,  cafte  oppe  bie  the  fea, 
Magnus  and  Hurra,  wyth  a  doughtir  hoafte, 
Are   ragyng,   to  be  quanfed  50   be  none  botte 

thee; 

Hafte,  fwyfte  as  Levynne  to  thefe  royners  flee  t 
Th:e  dogges  allyne  can  tame  thys  ragyngc 

bullc.  n,ee> 

Haft   fwythyn,  fore  anieghe  the  townie  theic 
And  Wedecefterres  rolle  of  dome  bee  fulle. 
Hafte,  hafte,  O  JEUi,  to  the  byker  flie, 
For  yn  a  momentes  fpace  tenne  thoufaud  mennc 

maie  die. 

Mil*. 

Bcflirew  thee  for  thie  ncwe*!  I  mofte  be  gon. 
Was  ever  locklefs  dome  fo  hard  as  myne  ! 
Thos  from  dyfportyfmente  to  warr  to  ron, 
To  chaunge  the  felke  veftefor  the  gaberdync . 

JBirtba. 

O  !  ryche  a  nedere,  lette  me  rounde  thee  twyne, 
And  hylte  thie  boddie  from  the  fchaftes  of 

warre.  [ryne  { 

Thou  fhalte  nott,  muft  not,  from  thie  Birth* 
Botte  kenn  the  dynneof  flughornes  from  afarrc. 

Mfo. 

O  love,  was  thys  thie  joie,  to  ftiew  the  treate. 
Than  GrorTyfhe  to  forbydde  thie  hungered  gueftcs 
to  eate  ? 

O  mie  upfwalynge  51  hane,  what  wordcs  can 
tiie  [ybrente  ? 

The  peynes,  thatte  paflethe  ynn  mie  fgule 
Thos  to  bee  torne  uponne  mie  fpoufall  dai, 

0  !  'tys  a  peyne  beyond  entendemente. 

Yee  mightie  goddes  and  is  yor  fayoures  fente 
As  thousfafte  dented  to  a  loade  of  peyne  ?  [tent, 
Mofte  wee  aie  holde  yn  chace  the  ftade  con- 
And  for  a  bodykyn  51  a  fwarthe  obteyne  ? 
^O!  whie,  yee  fcynctes,  opprefs  yee  thos  mie 

fowle  ? 
How  fhalle   I  fpeke  mie  woe,   mie   freme,  mie 

tlreerie  dole ! 

CclmonJe. 

Somctymc  the  wyfefte  lacketh  pore  mans  rcdc. 
Reafonne  and  counynge  wytte  efte  flees  awaic. 
Thann,  loverde,  lett  me  fai,  wyth  hommaged 

drede 

(Bineth  your  fotc  ylayn)  me  counfelle  fai ; 
Gyff  thos  wee  lett  the  matter  lethlen  53  laic, 
The  foemenn,  everych  honde-poyncle,  gettcth 

fote.  ffraie, 

Mie  loverde,  lett  the  fpeere-menne,  dyghte  for 
And  all  the  fabbatancrs  goe  about-.-. 

1  fpeke  me  lo.verde,  alleyne  to  upryfc        [alyfc. 
Your  wytte  from  marvelle,  and  the  warriouf  to 

JElia. 

Ah !  nowe  thou  pottelt  takclls  54  yn  mie  liarfr  ; 
Mie  foulghe  dothe  nowe  bcKvnne  to  fee  her- 

folks 


50  Stilled,  quenched.     51  fwelling.    5? 
.  ,53  ftjll,  dead.    54  arrow  i,  dacut 


340 


THE  WORKS  OF  CHATTERTON. 


I  wyfte  upryfe  mie  myghte,  and  do  mie  partc, 

Tofl-a  the    oemcnne  yn  mie  furje  felle. 

Botts  howe  canne  tynge  mie  rampynge  fourie 

telle, 

"Whyche  ryfeth  from  mie  love  to  Birtha  fayre  ? 
JJe    couM^  the  queene,  and  all  the   myghte  of 

'helle, 

Founde  oat  impleafaunce  of  fycke  blacke  a  geare. 
Yette    I   wylle   bee   mlefeife,     and   rouze  mie 

fpryte ' 

To  adle  wythe    renr.ome,    and    goe    meet   the 
1  bloddie  fyghte. 

'    Birtba. 

No,  thou  fchalte  never  leave  thie  Birtha's  fyde : 
Ne  fchall  the  wyndenponne  us  blowe  alleyne  ; 
I,-lyche  a  nedrc,  wylle  untoe  thee  bydc  : 
Tyde  lyfe,  tyde  deathe,  yette  {hall  bchoulde  us 

twayne. 

I  have  mie  parte  of  clrierie  dole  and  peyne  ; 
Itte  brafteth  from  iiiee  'atte  the  hokrcd  eyne  : 
Tfnne  tydes  of  te»res  mie  fwarthynge  fpryte  wyll 

drayne. 

Gyff  drerie  dole  ys  thyne,  tys  twa  tymes  myi:e. 
Goenotte,  O  /Ella;  v  ythe  thie  Eirtha' ftaie  ; 
For  v:yth  thie  femmlykeed  mie  fpryte  wylle  goe 
awaie. 

JElla. 

O  !  tys  for  thee,  for  thee  alleyne  I  fele  ;  ' 
Yet  I  mufte   bee  mieielfe ;  with   valqures  gear 
]lle  dyghte  mie  hearte,  and  notte  mie"lvmbes 

yn  ftele, 
And  fhake  the  bloddie  fwcrde  and  fieyned  fpere. 

Eh:ba. 

Can  ./Ella  from  hys  breafle  hys  Birtha  feare  ! 
t  Is  fhee  fo  rou  and  ugfomme  55  to  hys  fyghte? 
'  Eutrykeynge  wyght !  ys  feathall  warre  fo 

deare  ? 

Thou  pryzeft  mce  belowe  the  joies  of  fyghte. 
Thou  fchalt  notte  leave  mee,  albytte  the  crthe 
Jiong  pendaunte  hie  thie  fwcrde,  and  craved  for 
thy  morthe.  - 

JElla. 
Dyddeft  Ihou  kenne  how  mie  woes,  as  ftarres 

ybrente, 

•  Headed  bie  thefe  thie  wordes  doe  onn  mee  falle 
Thou  woulde  ftryve  to  gyve  mie  harte  centente 
Wakyng  mie  flepynge  mynde  to  honourei 

calle. 

Of  felyneffe  I  pryze  thee  moe  yan  all 
Heav'n   can  me  fend,  or  connygne   wytte  ac- 

quyre, 

Yette  I  wylle  leave  thee,  onne  the'  foe  to  falle 
Retournynge  to  thie  eyene  with  double  fyrc. 

Birtbtt.      > 

Mofte  Birtha  boon  requefte^and  bee  denyd  ? 
jlecey ve  attenes  a  darte  yn  felynefle  and  pryde  ? 
Doe  ftaie,  att  leafte  tylle  morrowes  fonne-ap- 

peies. 

JElla. 
Thou    kenneft    welle   the   Dacyannes  myttee 

powerre ; 
Wythe  them  a  mynnute  wurchethe  bane  for 

yeares ; 

Theie  undoe  reaulmes  wythyn  a  fyngle  hower. 
Rouze  all  thie  honr.oure,  Birtha ;  look  attoure 

1 5  Terribly 


Thie  Bledeytig  co'untrie,  whych  for  Iiaftie  ded 
Calls  for  the  rodynge  of  fome  doughtie  power, 
To    royn     ytts    royners,    make    jtts    focmea 
blede. 

Blrtla. 

Rouze     all    thie    love  ;    falfe    and     entrykyng 

wyghte  !  fyghtel 

STe  leave  thie   Birtha  thos   uponne   pretence    of 

Thou  nedeft  not  goe,  untyll  thou  hafte  com 

mand 
Under  the  fygnette  of  our  lorde  the  kynge. 

JElla. 

And  wouldeft  thou  make  me  then  a  recreande  ? 
Hollie'    Syndic    Marie,  keepe    mee    from    the 

'     thynge  ! 

Heere,  Birtha,  thou  haft  potte  a  double  ftynge^ 
One  for  thie  love,  anodher  for  thie  mynde. 
Birtba. 


Agylted  56  /Ella    thie  abredyng  , 

Twas  love  of  thee  thattc  foule  intente  ywrynde, 
Yette  heare  mie  !u;  jMycat.,  to  met'  attends, 
Hear  from  mie  groted  59  harte  the  lover  arid  the 

friende. 

Lett  Celmonde  yn  thie  armour-brace  be  dyghte  t 
And  yn  thie  ftead  unto  the  battle  goe  ?  • 
Thie  name  alleyne  wylle  putte  the   Danes  to 
flyghtc,  [the  foe. 

The  ayre  that  beares  ytr  \voulde  preffe  downc 

Alia. 
Birtha,   yn  vayne  tlVou   wouldefl  mee  recreand, 

doe. 

.  •   I  mofte,  I  wylle    fyght  for  mie  countries  wele, 
And  leave  thee  for  ytt.    Celmonde,  fweftlie  goe, 
Telle  mie  Bryftowans  to  be  dyghte  yn  ftele  ; 
Tell  hem  I  fcorne  to  kenne  hem  from  afor, 
Bottc  leave  the  vyrgyn  brydall  bedde  for  beddfi 
of  warre. 


,  BIRTHA. 


Blrtla. 

And  thou  wylt  goe  :  O  mie  agroted  harte  J 

JElla.  • 
Mie    countrie    waites    mie    marche  ;   1    mufte 

awaic  ; 

Albeytte  I  fchulde  goe  to  mete  the  darte 
Of  certen  dethe,  yette  here  I  woulde  note  ftai. 
Eotte  thos  to  leave  thee,  Birtha,  dothe  affwaie- 
Moe  torturynge  peynes  yanne  canne  be  fedde, 
bie  tyngue,  [daie, 

Yette  rouze  thie  honoure  uppe,  and  wayte  the 
Whan  rounde  aboutc  mee  fonge  of  war  heie 

fynge. 

O  Birtha,  ftrev  mie  agreeme  60  to  accaie  6l, 
;rtnd  joyous  fee  my  armes,  dyghte  oute  ynn  warre- 
arraie. 

Birtba. 

Difficile  62  ys  the  pennaunce,  yette  I'lle  ftrev 
To  keepe  mie  woe  behyltren  yn  mie  breafte. 
Albeytte  nete  maye  to  me  pleafaunce  yev, 
Lyche  thee,  I'llc  ftrev  to  fette  mie  mynde  atte 
refte. 


56  Offended.  57 -upbraiding.  58  ceafe.  59  fwojjj* 
60  torture*    6l  afisage, 


O    E    M    3. 


!  forgevc,  y-ff  I  have  thee  dyftrefte  ; 
e,  doughtie  love,   wylle   beare  no    odhre 

fwaie. 

Jufte  as  I  was  wythe  TElla  to  be  blefte, 
Shappe  fouilie  thos  hathe  matched  hym  awaie. 
It  -was  a  tene  too  doughtie  to  bee  borne, 
Wydhoute  an  ounde  of  teares  and  breads  wyth 
•  fyghcs  ytorne. 

JElla. 
Thie  mynde  ys  now  thiefclfe;  why  wyltc  thou 

bee 

All  blanche,  al  kyngelie,  all  foe  wyfe  yn  raynde, 
Alleyne  to  lette  pore  wretched  JE\\^  fee, 
Whatte  wondrous  bighes  63    he  nowe  mtifte 
leave  behynde  i  [wynde, 

O   Birtha   fay  re,  wards   everyche    commynge 
On  everyche  wynde  I  wylle  a  token  fende  ; 
Oaa  mie  longe  ihielde  ycorne  thie  name  thoul't 

fynde, 

But  here  commes  Celmonde,  wordhie  knyghte 
and  friende. 


JELLA,  BIRTHA,  CELMONDE  SPEAKING. 

Thie  Bryftoweknyghtes  for  thie  forth-comynge 

lynge  64  ;  . 

Schone   athvvarte   hys  backe   hys  longe    warre- 
fliield  dothe  flynge. 

Mlla. 
Birtha,  adieu  ;  but  yette  I  cannotte  goe. 

Birtha. 

Lyfe  of  mie  fpryte,  mie  gentle  ^Ella  ftaie. 
Engyne  nice  notte  wyth  fyke  a  dricrie  woe. 

Mlla.       - 
I  mufte,  I  wylle  ;  tys  honnoure  cals  awaie. 

B';rtb.i. 

O  mie  agroted  harte,  brafte,  brafte  ynn  twaie. 
JE.Ua.,  foi  honnoure,  flyes  awaic  from  race. 

.filla. 

Birtha,  adieu  -.  I  maie  note  here  obate, 
I'm  flyynge  from  mieielfe  yn  flying  thee.  • 

B-rtba. 

O  JEMz,  houfband,  friend,  and  loverde,  ftaie. 
He'sgon,  he's  gone,  alafs  !  pcrcafe  he's  gone  for 
aie. 

Celmondt* 

Hope,  hallie  fufler,  fweepynge  through  the  flde, 
In  croune  of  goulde,  and  robe  of  lillle  whyte, 
Whyche  farre  abrode  ynn  gentle  aire  doe  flie, 
Meetynge  from  diftaunce  the  enjoyous  fyghte, 
Albeytte  efte  thou  taketl  thie  hie  flyghte 
Hecket  65  ynne  a  myfle,  ana  wyth  thydc  eyne 

yblcnte, 

Nowe  commeft  thou  to  mee  xvythe  ftarre  lyghte  ; 

Ontoe  thie  vcftj  the  rodde  fonne  ys  a.dente  66  ;t 

The  Sommcr  tyde,  the  month  of  Male  appere, 

Depycle  wythe  (kylledd  hondc  uppon  this1  wyde 

aumere. 

I  from  a  ncte  of  hoplin  am  rHav.'ed, 
Awhaped  67  atte  the  fciyyciicfs  of  dale; 

a,   bie    nete   moe    than    hys  myndbruche 
awed, 


.?  Jewel?.   64  ftay.  65  wrapped  clofeiy,  covcr- 
66  faftcncd.  67  aftouifhed. 


Is  goijc,  and  I  mofte  followe,  to:  the  iraie, 
CeTmoude  canne  ne'er  from  anie  byker  ftaie. 
Dothe  warre  begyane !   there's  Celmonde  yn 

the  place,  .[av.-.uc. 

Botte  whannc    the  warre  ys  donne,  I'll  hade 
The  relic  from  nJthe  ty.m  maiquc  mult  ihc\v 

yttes  face. 

I  fee  onnombered  joics  ar'>unde  mee  ryfe ; 
Brake  63  ftoadcthe  future  doome,  and  joie 


mee  alyfc. 

O  honnoure,  honnoure,  what  ysbit-  thechanuc? 
Hailie  the  robber  and  the  bordelycr, 
Who  kens  ne  thee,  or  ys  to  thee  beftannc, 
And  nothynge  does  thee  myckle  gailnefs  fere. 
Fayuge  woulde  I  from  mie  bofomme  aile  theo 

tare. 

Thou  there  dyfperpelleft  69  thelevynne-bronde; 
Whylefl  mie  foul^h's  forwyned,  thou  art  the 

gare  ; 

Sleene  ys  mie  comforte  bie  thie  ferie  honde  ; 
As  fome  talle  hylle,  whan  wynds  doe  fhakj  the 

ground,  v 

Itte  kerveth  all  abroade,  bie  brafteynge  hyltren 

wounde. 

Honnoure,    whatt    be   ytt  ?    tys    a  fhadowes 

made, 

A  thynge  of  wychencref,  an  idle  dreme  ; 
On  of  the  fonnis  whych  the  clcrchc  have  made 
Menne  wydhoute  fprytes,  and  womineri  for  to 

fleme  ; 
Knyghtes,  who  efte  kenne  the  loudc  dynne  of 

the  beme, 

Schulde  be  forgarde.to  fyke  cnfeeblyng  waies. 
Make  everych  a&e,   alyche   theyr   foules,  ba 

breme, 

And  for  theyre  chyvalrie  aileyne  have  prayfe. 
O  thou,  whateer  thie  name, 

Or  Zabalus  or  Queed, 
Comme,  fteel  mie  lable  fpryte, 
For  fremde  70  and  dulefulle  dede4 

MAGNUS,  HURRA,  AND  HIE  PREESTE, 

Wy.TU   THE  ARM.IE,  NEAK.   WATCHXTTE. 

Kf.. 
iwvruE  7!  letts  the  eScfldrej  72  to  the  goddt.; 

bejr 

To  knowe  of  hem  the  iff^c  of  the  fyghte. 
Pottc   the  hlodde-fteyncu  .Iword   and    payves 

ynnc  ; 

Spreade  fwythyn  all  arouiidc  the  hallie  lyglr.t;.   ( 
Hie  Prerij: 


YsCjWho  hie  yn  moki'-  ayn 
'  Dtkthc  fcafonnes  fonlc  or  •" 
.  Yee,  who,  \\hannes  yec  wc-jrc  a'  ^, 

The  mono  yn  bloddie  f  ytellcs  73  hylte, 
.  Mooved  the  ilarrcs,  ur.ddyci  unby: 

Everyche  barricre  to  the,wyndc  : 

Whaiiiu-  the  oundynge  waves  dydrcftc, 

Stroven  to  be  ovcrcft, 

Sockcynge  yn  the  fpyrf-pyrtc  townc, 

Swolterynge  wok  natyoncs  downc, 


68  Naked.  69  fcattereft.  70  ftrangc.  71  Quickijr. 
j  cffcrings.  "  T,  ma:     - 

V  iij 


344 


THE  WORKS  OF  CH  ATTERTO  N. 


Sendynge  dethe,  on  plagues  aftrodde, 
Moovynjre  lyke  the  erthys  godde  ; 
To  mee  fcnde  your  hefte  devyne, 
Lyghte  eletten  74  all  myne  eyne, 
That  1  male  now  undevyfe 
All  the  a&yonnes  of  th'  empprizc. 

[fallttb  doivntand  tftt  rvfette. 

Thus  fayethc  the  goddes;  goe,  yffue  to   the 

playne;  [flayne. 

Forr  there  fliall  meyntc  of  mytte  menae  bee 

Magnus. 

Whie,  foe  there  evere  was,  whanne  Magnus 

foughte.  [hoafte, 

Efte  have   I   treynted  noyance  throughe  the 

Athorowe    fwerdes,    alyche   the    Queed    dy- 

ftiaught  "    [loafte- 

Have  Magnus  preffynge  wroghte  hys  foemen 

As  whanne  a  tempefle  vexeth  foarc  the  coaftc, 

The  dyngeynge  oundc  the  fandeie  ftrondc  doe 

tare, 

So  dyd  I  inne  the  warre  the  javlynne  tofte, 
Full  meynte  a  champyonnes  breaflc  received 

mie  fpear. 

Mie  fheelde,lychefommere  morie  gronfer  dr oke, 
fylie  lethalle  fpeere,  alyche  a  levyn-mylted  oke. 

Hurra. 

Thie  wordes  are  grcate,  full  hyghe  of  found, 
and  eeke  [rayne. 

Lyche  thonderre,  to  the  whych  dothe  comme  no 
Itte  lacketh  notte  a  doughtie  honde  to  fpeke  ; 
The  cocke  faithe  drefte  75,  yctt  armed  ys  he 

alleyne. 

Certes  thie  wordes  maie,  thou  moteft  have  fayne 
Of  mee,  and  meynte  ofwnoe,  who  eke  canne 

fyghte, 

Who  haveth  trodden  downe  the  adventayle, 
And  tore  the  heaulmes  from  hedes  of  myckle 

myghte. 

Sythence  fyke  myghte  ys  placed  yn  thie  honde, 
ILette  blowes  thie  adtyons  fpeeke,  and  bie  thie 
corrage  ftonde. 

Magnus, 

Thou  are  a  warrioure,  Hurra,  thatte  I  kenne, 
And  myckle  famed  for  thie  handle  dede. 
Thou  fyghteft  anente  76  maydens  and  ne  menne, 
Nor  aie  thou  makefl  armed  hartes  to  blede. 
Efte  I,  caparyfon'd  on  bloddie  flede, 
Havythe  thee  feene  binethe  mee  ynn  the  fyghte, 
Wythe  corfes  I  inveftynge  everich  mcde, 
And  thou  afton,  and  wondrynge  at  mie  myghte. 
1  hanne  wouldeft  thou  comme  yn  for  mie  re- 
nome,  [dome  ? 

Albcyttc  thou  wouldeft  reyne  awaie  from  bloddie 

Hurra. 
How  !  butte  bee  bourne  mie  rage.    I  kenne 

aryghte 
Bothe  thee  and  thyne  maie  ne  bee  wordhye 

peenc. 

Eftfonnes  I  hope  wee  fcalle  engage  yn  fyghte ; 
Thanne  to  the  fouldyers  all  thou  wylte  bc- 

wreen. 

I'll  prove  mie  courage  onne  the  burled  greene  ; 
Tys  there  alleyne  I'll  telle  thee  whatte  I  bee. 
Gyf  I  tvcelde  notte  the  deadlie  fphere  adcane, 
Thanne  let  mie  name  be  fulle  as  lowe  as  thee. 


;'4  Enlighten..    75  fcuft,    76 


Thys   mie   adented   fhielde,   thys  mie   waflSre 

fpeare, 
Schalle  telle  the  fallcynge  foe  gyf  Hurra's  harte 

can  feare. 

Magnus. 
Magnus  woulde  fpeke,  butte  thatte  hys  noble 

Ipryte  [faie. 

Dothe  foe  enrage,  he  knowes  notte  whatte  to 
He'dde  fpeke  yn  blowes,  yn  gottes  of  blodde 

he'd  wrytc, 

And  on  thie  heafod  peynfte  hys  myghte  for  aie. 
Gyf  thou  anent  an  wolfynnes  rage  wouldeft 

ftaie, 

'Tys  here  to  meet  ytt ;  botte  gyffnott,  bee  goe ; 
Left  I  in  furrie  fhulde  mie  armes  difplaie, 
\Vhyche  to  thie  boddie  wylle  wurche  77  myckle 

woe. 
Oh !  I  bee  madde,  dyftranghte  wyth  brendynf 

rage ; 
Ne  fea»  of  fmethyng  gore  wylle  mie  chafed  harte 

affwage. 

Hurra. 
I  kenne  thee  Magnus,  welle;  a  wyghte  tho» 

art 

That  doeft  aflee  alonge  ynn  doled  dyftreffe, 
Strynge  bulle  yn  boddie,  lyoncelle  yn  harte, 
1  almoft  wyfche  thie  proweswere  made  leffe. 
Whan  JE.Ua  (name  dreft  uppe  yn  ugfomnefs  7? 
To  thee  and  recreandes  79)  thondered  on  the 

playne, 

Howe  dydfte  thou  thorowefyrfte  of  fleers  preffe ! 
Swefter  thanne  federed  takelle  dydfte    thou 

reyne. 

A  ronnynge  pryze  onn  feynfle  daie  to  ordaync» 
Magnus,  and  none  botte  hee,  the  ronnynge  pryze 

wylle  gaj-ne. 

Afggnus. 

F.ternalle  plagues  devour  thie  baned  tynge  ! 
Myrriades  of  neders  pre  upponne  thie  fpryte  \ 
Maieft  thou  fele  al  the  peyues  of  age  whylft 

yynge, 

Unmanned,  uneyned,  exclooded  aie  the  lyghte, 
Thie    fenfes,    lyche  thicfclfe,    enwrapped   y» 

nyghte, 

A  feoff  to  foemen,  and  to  beaftes  a  pheere ; 
Maie  furched  levynne  onne  thie  head  alyghte, 
Maie  on  thee  falle  the  f huyr  of  the  unweerc : 
Fen    vaipoures    blafte    thie    everiche    manlie 

powere, 
Maie   thie   bante   boddie   quyckc    the    wolfom* 

peenes  devoure. 
Faynge  woulde  I  curfe  thee  further,  botte  mi« 

tyngue 
Denies  mie  harte  the  favoure  foe  toe  doe. 

Hurra. 
Nowe  bie  the  Dacaynne  goddes,  and  Welkyn* 

kynge, 

Wythe  f hurie,  as  thou  dydfte  begynne,  perfuc  ; 
Calle  on  mie,  heade  all  tortures  that  bee  rou, 
Bane  onne,  tylle  thie  owne  tongue  thie  curfes 

fele. 
Sende  omie  mie  heade  the  blyghteynge  levynne 

blewe, 

The  thonder  loude,  the  fwellynge  azure  rele  80. 
Thie  wordea  be  hie  of  dynne,  botte  nctc  befyde ; 


77  Work.    78  terror.   7*  coward*.  80  wave. 


Bane  on,  pood  chieftayn,  fyghte  wythe  wordes  of 

myckle  pryde,  [come. 

Botte  doe  notte  wafle  thie  breath,  left 


.. 

JEIla  and  thee  togyder  f)  nke  toe  helle  ! 
Bee  youre  names  blafted  from  the  rolle  of  dome  ! 
I  feere  noe  ^Ella,  thatte  thou  kenneft  weile. 
Unlydgefulle   traytoure,   wylt   thou   novve  re- 
belle  ?  [myne, 

*Tys  knowen,  thatte  yie  menn  bee  lyncked  to 
Bothefeivte,  as  troopes  of  wolves,  tofletre  felle  ; 
Botte  nowe  thou  lacked  hem  to  be  all  yyne. 
Nowe,  bit  the  goddes  yatte  reule  the  Dac-yanne 
ftatfi,  [dyfregate. 

Speacke    thou  yn  rape   once    moe,   I  wyll  thee 

Hurra. 

I  pryze  thie  threattes  jolte  as  I  doe  thie  banes, 
The  fede  of  melyce  and  recendize  al. 
Thou  arte  a  Iteyne  unto  the  name  of  Danes  ; 
Thou  alleyne  to   thie  tyngue  for  proole  canft 

calle. 

Thou  beeft  a  worme  fo  groffile  and  fo  final, 
I  wythe  thie  bloude  woulde  iconic  to  foul  mie 
fworde,  [talle, 

Botte  wythe  thie  weaponnes  woulde  upon  -thee 
Alyche  thie  owne  feare,  flea  thee  wythe  a 

worde. 

I,  Hurra,  ainnie  miefel,  ajid  aie  wylie  bee, 
As  greate  yn  valorous  adles,  and  yn  commande  as 
thee. 

MAGNU§,    HURRA,    ARM  YE   AND   MES 
SENGER.  E. 

Mrffe?igere. 

Blynne  your  contekions  8r,  chiefs  ;  for  as  I  ftode 
Uponne  mie  watche,  I  fpiede  an  armie  com- 

mynge, 

Notte  lyche  an  handfulle  of  a  fremded  81  foe, 
Botte    btatke    wythe  armoure,    movynge  ug- 

ibmlie,  '[alonge 

Lyche  a  blacke  fulle  cloude,  thatte  dothe  goe 
To  droppe  yn  hayle,  and  heie  the  thunder 

itotme. 

Magnus. 
AT  there  meynte  of  them  ? 

Mejfengere. 

Thycke  as  the  ante-flyes  ynne  a  fommer's  none, 
Seemynge  as  though  theie  ftynge  as  perfante 

too. 

Hurra. 
Whatte  matters  thatte  ?  lettes  fette  cure  warr. 

arraie.  [pare  ; 

Go«,  founde  the  beme,  lette  champyons  pre- 
Ne  doubtynge,  we  wylle  ftynge  as  falte  as  heie. 
Whatte  ?  doeft  forgard  83  thie  bloddie  ?  ys  ytte 

for  feare  ?  [ftere, 

Wouldeft  thou  gayne  the  towne,  and  caftle- 
And  yette  ne  byker  wythe  the  foidyer  guarde  ? 
Go,  byde  thee  ynn  mie  tente  annethe  the  lere  ; 
I  of  thie  boddie  wylle  keepe  watche  and  warde. 

Magnut. 
Oure  goddes  of  Denmarke  know  mie  harte  ys 

godde. 


81  Contention*    84 frighted. 


Jfurra. 

For  nete  uppon  rhe  erthe,  botte  to  be  cloughtns 
fooiie. 

MAGNUS,    HURRA,    ARMIE,    SECONDE 
MESSENGERE. 

SecoTtde  Meffengere. 

As  frbm  mie  towre  I  kende  the  coramynge  foe, 
I  fpied  the  croifed  fliielde  and  bloddte  Iwerde, 
The  furyo\is  Ella's  banner  ;  wythynne  kc,nne 
The  armie  ys.     Dyforder  throughe  oure  hoafte 
Is  fleynge,  borne  onne  wynges  of  ./Ella's  name  ; 
Styr,  ftyr,  mie  lordes  ! 


What  ?  ^lla  ?  and  f6  neare  ? 
Thenne   Denmarques  roiend  ;  oh  mie  ryfynge 
feare  ! 

Hurra. 
What  doeft  thou  mene  ?  thys  JEUa's  botte  a 

manne. 

Nowe  bie  mie  fworde,  thou  arte  averie  berne  84. 
Of  late  I  dyd  thie  creand  valonre  fcanne, 
Wham.e  thou  dydll  boafte  foe  moche  of  aclyorx 

derne. 

Botte  I  toe  warr  mie  doeynges  mofte  atturne, 
To  cheere  the  Sabbataneres  to  deere  dede. 

Magnus. 
I  to  the  knyghtes  onue   everyche  fyde  wylle 

burne, 

Telleynge  'hem  atte  to  make  her  foemen  blede  ; 

Sythe  ihanre  or  dcathe  onne  eider  fyde  wylle 

bee,  [flea. 

Mie  harte  I  wylle  upryfe,  and  inne  the  battele 

^ELLA,  CELMONDE,  AND  ARMIE,  NEAR 
WATCHETTE. 

JElld. 
Now   iaVyiige   done  oure  mattynes  and  oure 

vowes, 

Lette  us  for  the  intended  fyghte  be  boune, 
And    everyche    champyone    potite   the  joyout 
crowne  [browes. 

Of  certane   malterfchyppe  upon  hys  glertreynge 

As  for  mie  n'arte,  I  ownc  ytt  ys  as  ere 
Itte  has  beene  ynne  the  fommer-fhcne  of  fate, 
Unknowen  to  the  ugfome  gratch  of  fere; 
Mie  bloddc  embollen,  wythe  matlerie  elate, 
Boyles  ynne  mie  veynes,  and  rolles  ynn  rapyd 

Irate, 

Impatyente  forr  to  mete  the  perfante  ftele, 
And  telle  the  worlde  thatt  ^£lla  dyed  as  greate 
As  auie    knyghte   who   fought  for  Englondo* 
weaie.  [more  drere, 

Friends,  kyune,  and  foldyerres,  ynne  black  ar- 
She  aclyons  ymytate,  mie  prefcnte  redynge  here. 

There  ys  ne  houfe,  athrow  tbys  ihap-fcurged  8$ 

ifle, 

Thatte  has  ne  Ibfte  a  teynne  yn  thefe  fell  fyghte*, 
Fatte  blodde  has  forfeeted  the  hongerde  loyle, 
And  townes  enlowed  80   lemed  87    oppc  the 

nyghus. 


84  Child.    85  fate-fcourged.    86  flamed,  fire*' 
87  lighted. 

Tiiij 


344. 


THE   WORKS   OF    CHATTERTON, 


Inne   gyte.  of   fyre  oure  hallie  churche  dhere 

dyghtcs  ; 
Ourefonnes  lie  ftorven  8S  ynne  theyre  fmethynge 

gore ;  [pyghtes, 

Oppe    bie    the  rootes  oure  tree  of  lyt'e  dhcic 

Vexynge  oure  coaite,  as  byllowes  doe  the  iliore. 

Yee  menne,  gy f  ye  are  menne,  dilplaie  yor  name) 

Ybrende  yer  tropes,  alyche  the  roarynge  tempeft 

flame. 

Ye  Chryftyans,  doe  as  wordhie  of  the  name  ; 
Thefe  roynerres  of  oure  hallie  houfes  flea  ; 
Brafte,  lyke  a  cloude,  from  whence  dothe  come 

the  flame,          .  [taines,  bee. 

Lyche  torrentes,  gufhynge  downe  the  moun- 
And  whanne  alonge  the  grene  yer  champyons 

flee,  [bronde, 

Swefte  as  the    rodde    for-vveltrynge  89  levyn- 
Yatte  hauntes  theflyinge  mortherer  oerethe  lea, 
Soe  flie  oponne  thefe  royners  of  the  londe. 
Lettc  thofe  yatte  are  unto  her  battayles  fledde, 
Take  flepe  eterne  uponue  a  feerie  lowynge  bedde. 

Let    cowarde   Londonne   lee  herre  towne  onn 

fyre,  [honde, 

And  ftrev  vvyth  goulde  to  ftaie  the  royners 
JLllii  and  Bryfto^e  havethe  thoughtes  thattes 

hygher,  [londe. 

Wee  fyghte  notte  for  ourfelves,  botte  all  the 
As  Severnes  hygher  lyghethe  banckes  of  fonde, 
Preffynge  ytte  downe  binethe  the  revnynge 

ftreme,  [ftronde, 

Wythe  dreerie  dynn   enfwolters  9®   the   hyghe 

Beerynge  the  rockes  alonge  ynn  fhurye  breme, 

Soe  wylle  webeere  the  Dacyanne  armie  downe, 

And  throughe  a  ftorme  of  blodde  wyll  reache  the 

champyon  crowne. 

Gyffynn  thys  battelle  locke  ne  wayte  oure  gare> 
To  Bryftowe  dheie  wylle  tourne  yeyre  f  huyrie 

dyre  ; 

Bryftowe,  and  alleher  joies,  wylle  fy nke  toe  ayre, 
Brendeyrrge  perforce  wythe  unenhantende  9! 

fyre: 

Thehne  lette  oure  fafetie  doublie  moove  oure  ire 
Lyche  wolfyns,  rovynge  for  the  evnynge  pre, 
See  [ing]  the  lambe  and  fliepilere  nere  the  brire, 
Doth  th'  one  forr  fafetie,  th'  one  for  hongre  flea  ; 
Thanne,    wbanne  the  ravenne  crokes  uponne 

the  playne,  [amis  flayrie. 

Oil  1  lette  ytte  bee  the  knelle  to  myghtie  Dacy- 

•Lyche  a  rodde  gronfer  flialle  mie  anlace  fheene, 
Lyche  a  ftrynge  lyoncelle.  J'll  bee  ynne  fyghte, 
Lyche  fallynge  leaves  the.Dacyannes  flialle  bee 

fleehe,  [myghte. 

Lyche  [a]  loud  dynnynge  ftreeme  fcalle  be  mie 
Ye  menue,  who  woulde  deferve  the  name  of 

knyghte, 

Lette  bloddie  teares  bie  all  your  paves  be  wepte ; 
To  commynge  tymes  nopoyntelle  fhalle  y  write, 
Whanne  Englonde  han  her  foemenn,  Bryftow 

flepte.  [die 

Yourfelfes,  youre  chyldfen,  and  youre  fellowes 

Go,  fyghte  ynne  rennomes  gare,   be  brave,  and 

wynne  or  die. 

SSDead.    .89  Waiting,     pofwallows,   fucks    in 
$i  unaccuftomed. 


I  faie  ne  rhoe ;  youre  fpryte  the  refte  wylle  faie  ;  ' 

Your  fpryte   wylle  wrynne,  thatte  Bryftow  ys 

yer  place  ;  [wait ; 

To  honoures  hotife  I  nede  nottc  marcke    the 

Inne  youre   owne  hartes  you  male  the  -foote- 

pathe  trace.  [fpace ; 

'Twexte  fhape  and  us  there  ys  botte  lyttelle 

The  tyme  ys    nowe  to  proove  yourfelves  bee 

menne ;  [?rac.e, 

Drawe  forthe  the  bornyfhed  bylle  wythe  fetyve 

Rouze,    lyche    a    wolfynne    reuzing  from  hys 

denne. 

Thus  I  enrone  mie  anlace  ;  go  thou  (hethe  ; 
I'll  potte  ytt  ne  ynn  place,  tyll  ytte  ys  fycke  wythe 
deathe. 

Soldyers. 

Onn,  JElla,  oh  ;  we  longe  for  bloddie  fraie  ; 
Wee  longe  to  here  the  raven  fynge  yn  vayne  ; 
Onn,  ^Ella,  on  ;  we  certys  gayne  the  daie, 
Whanne  thou  dofteleade  us  to  the  lethal  playne. 

Celmonde- 

Thie  fpeche,    O  Loverde,    fyrethe    the  whole 
trayne ;  [breathe ; 

Theie   pancle   for   war,  as  honted   wolves  for 
Go,  and  fytte  crowned  on  corfes  of  the  flayne  ; 
Go,  and  y  wielde  the  maflle  fwerde  of  deathe. 

Soldyerres. 

From  thee,  O  jElla,  alle  oure  courage  reygnes, 
Echone    yn    phantafie    do  lede  the   Danes  ynne- 
chaynes. 

Mlla. 
Mie  countrymenne,    mie    fiiendes,  your  noble 

fprytes 

Speke  yn  youre  eyne,  and  doe  yer  mafter  telle. 
Swefte    as    the    rayne-ftorm  toe  the  erthe  a- 

lyghtes, 

Soe  wylle  we  fall  upon  thefe  royners  felle. 

Oure    mowynge    fwerdes    flialle    plonge    hem 

downe  to  helle  ;  "    [ftarres  ; 

Theyr«    throngynge   corfes  fhall  ontyghte  the 

The  barrowes  braitynge  wythe  the  fleene  fchall 

fwelle,  [warres ; 

Brynnynge  92   to  commynge  tymes  our  famous 

Inne  everie  eyne  I  kenne  the  lowe  of  myghte, 

Sheenynge  abrode,  alyche  a  hylle-fyre  ynne  the 

nyghte.  [faie, 

Whanne  poyntelles  of  oure  famous  fyghte  (hall 

•  Echone  wylle  marvelle  atte  the  dernie  dede, 

Echone  wylle  wyflen  hee  hanne  feene  the  daie, 

And  bravelie  helped  to  make  the  foemenn  blede ; 

Botte  for  yer  holpe  oure  battelle  vrylle  notte 

nede ; 

Oure  force  ys  force  enowe  to  ftaie  theyre  honde ; 
Wee  wylle  retourne  unto  thys  grened  mede, 
Oer  corfes  of  the  foemen  of  the  londe. 
Nowe   to   the  warre    lette  all  the  flughornes 
founde,  [grounde, 

The  Dacyanrie  troopes  appere  on  yinder  ryfynge 
Chiefes,  heade  youre  bandes,  and  leade. 

DANES  FLYING,  NEARE  WATCHETTE. 

Fyrjte  Dane.  , 

FtY,  fly,  ye  Danes ;  Magnus  the  chiefe  ys  fleene, 
The  Saxonnes  comme  wythe  .£lla  atte  theyre 
heade ;        .  - 

95  Declaring.  .    •* 


POEMS, 


Letters  ircY  to  gette  awaie  to  yinclcr  greene : 
Flic,  flic  ;  thys  ys  the  kyngdcmmc  of  the  d^adde. 
SecoHiL-  Dane. 

O  goddes!  have  thoufandesbie  mie  anlace  bledde, 

And  muft  I  nowe  for  fafetie  flie  a-.vuic  ? 

See !    farre   befprenged   alle   ourc   troopes  are 

fpreade, 

Yette  1  wylle  fynglie  dare  the  bloddie  fraie.' 

Botte  ne  ;  I' lie  flie,  and  morther  yn  retrete  ; 

Dtathe,   blodde,    and  fyre,    fcalle  93   marke  the 

goeyngc  of  my  feete. 

TbyrJt  Dane. 

Enthoghteynge  for  to  fcape  the  brondeynge  foe,, 
As  nere  unto  the  byllowd  beche  I  came, 
Farr  ofle  1  fpied  a  fyghte  of  myckle  woe, 
Oure  fpyrynge  battayles  wrapt  .ynu  fayles  of 

flame. 

The  burled  Dacyannes,  who  were  ynn  the  fame. 
Fro  fyde  to  fyde  flcdde  the  pufuyte  of  deathc  ; 
The  fwcllcyuge  fyre  ycr  corrage  tloe  enflmuc, 
Theie  lepe  ynto  the  fea,and  bobblynge  yield  yer 

breathe ; 
Whylcft   chofe  tbatt  bee    uponue    the  bloddie 

playii'-,  [flayne. 

Bee  deathe-doomed  capty  ves  taene,  or  yn  the  battle 

Hurra. 
Now   bie  the  goddes,    Magnus,    dyfcourteous 

knyghte, 

Bie  craverite  94  havyoure  havcthe  don  onre  woe, 
Dyfpendynge  all  the  talle  menne  yn  the  fyghte, 
And  placeying  valourous  menne  where  draffs 

mote  goe. 

Sythence  oure  foartunie  have  the  tourned  foe, 
Gader  the  fouldyers  lefte  to  future  fhappe, 
To  fomme  newe  place  for  fafetie  wee  wylle  goe, 
inne  future  daie  wee  wylle  have  better  happe. 
Sounde  the  loude  flughorne  for  a  quicke  for- 

loyne  9?  ;  [j°yne' 

Lette  alle  the  Dacyahnes  fwythe  untoe  our  banner 

Throw  hamlettes  wee  wylle  fprenge  fadde  dethe 
and  dole,  [ynne ; 

Bathe  yn  hotte  gore,  and  wafch  ourfelves  there- 

Goddes !    here  the   Saxonnes  lyche  a   byllowe 
rolle. 

I  heere  the  anlacis  detefted  dynne. 

Awaie,  awaie,  ye  Danes,  to  yonder  penne ; 
Wee  now  wylle  ma'ke  forloyne  yn  tyme  to  fyghte 
agenne. 

CELMONDE,  NEAR  WATCHETTE. 

O  forr  a  fpryte  a'l  feere  !  to  telle  the  daie, 
The  daie  whyche  fcal  aflounde  the  hef  ers  rede, 
Makeynge  oure  foemennes  envyynge  hartes  to 
blede,  [for  aie. 

Ybereynge  thro  the  worlde  oure  rennomde  name 

Bryghte  fonne  han  ynne  hys  rodJie  robes  byn 

dyghte, 

From  the  redde  eafte  he  flytted  wythe  hys  trayne, 
The  bowers  drewe  awaie  the  geete  of  nyghte, 
Her  fable  tapiftrie  was  rente  yn  twayne. 
The   dauncynge   ftreakes   bedecked    heavenncs 

playne,  [eie 

And  on  the  dewe  dyd  fmyle  wythe"  fliemrynge 


93  Shall.    94  coward.    95  reyeat. 


Lyche  gottes  of  blodde  whiche  doe  blacke  ar- 
moure  fteyne,  [bie  ; 

Shecnynge  upon  the  borne  96  whyche  ftondcth 
The  ibuklyers  ftooue  uponue  the  hillis  fyde, 
I^yche  yonge  enlefed  trees  whyche  yn  a  forrefb 
byde. 


lyche  the  tree  befette  wyth  brieres; 
Jtlys  talle  fpeere   fheenynge   as   the  ftarres  at 

nyghte, 

Hys  eyne  enfemeynge  as  a  lowe  of  fyre  ; 
\Vhanne  he  encheered  eyerie  manne  to  fyghtr, 
Hys  gentle  wordes  dyd  moove  cche  valourous 

knyghte  : 

Itte  mooveth  'hem,  as  honterres  lyoncell  ; 
In  trebled  armoure  ys  theyre  courage  dyghte  ; 
Ethe  warrynge  harte  forr  prayfc  and  rennome 

fwelles  ;  [ftrcme, 

Lyche  flowelie  dynnynge,  of  the  croucfteynge 

Syche  dyd  the  ruormryiige  found  of   the  whvl 

armie  feme. 

Hce  lodes  'hem  onne  to  fyghte  ;  oh  !  thennc  t« 

faie 

How  /Ella  loked,  and  lokyng  dyd  enchecre, 
Moovynge  alyche  a  mountayne  yn  affraie, 
Whanne  a  lowde  whyrlevynde  doe  ytte«  boe- 

fomme  tare, 

To  telle  howe  everie  loke  wulde  banyfhc  fcerc, 
Woulde  afke  an  angellee  poyntelle  or  hys-tooyuc, 
Lyche  a  talle  rocke  yatte  ryfeth  heaven-were, 
Lyche  a  yonge  wolfynne  brondeous  and  ftrynge, 
Soe  dydde  he  goe,  and  myghtie  warriours  h«dac; 
Wythe   gore-depycted  wynges  niailerie  troundc 

hym  fledde. 

The  battelle  jyned  ;  fwcrdes  uponnc  fwerdei 

dyd  rynge  ; 

./Ella  was  chafed,  as  lyonns  madded  bee  ; 
Lyche  fallynge  ftarres,  he  dydde  the  javlymi 

flynge  ; 

Hys  mightie  ankce  mightie  menne  dyd  flea  ; 
Where  he  dydde  come,  the  flemed97  foe  dydde 

flee,  . 

Or  felle  be'nethe  hys  honde,  as  fallynge  ravne, 
Wythe   fyke  a  fhuyrie  he  dydde  onn    hemni 

dree,  [playn«  ; 

Hylles  of  ycr  bowkes  dyd  ryfe   opponne   the 
a,  thou  arte  —  botte  ftaie,  mie  tyngc  ;  faie 


Howe  greate  I  hymme  maye  make,  ftyllc  greater 
hee  w)'lle  bee. 

Nor  dydde  hys  fouldyerres  fee   hy»  aftes  yn 

vayne.  [felle; 

Hecre  a  ftoute  Dane   uponne   hy«  compheerc 
Heere   lorde  and  hyndlette  fonkc  uponnc  the 

playne  ; 

Heere  fonne  and  fadre  trembled  ynto  helle. 
Chi"f  Magnus  fought  hys  waie,  and  (hamc  to 

telle  ! 
Hee  fought  hys  waie  for  flyghte  ;  botte  Ella's 

fpeere 

Uponne  the  flyynge  Dacyannes  fchoulder  felle, 
i     Onyte  throwe  hys  boddic,  and  hys  harte  jrttc 

tare, 


96  Burnilhr       97  frighted. 


THE  WORKS   OF  CHATTERTON. 


He  groned,  and  fonkc  uponne  the  gorie  greene, 
And  wythe  hys  corfe  encreafed  the  pylcs  of  Dacy- 
annes  fleene. 

Spentc  wythe  the  fyghte,  the  Danyflie  ckam- 

pyons  ftonde, 
JLyche  bulks,  whofe  ftrengthe  and  wondrous 

myghte  ys  fledde  ; 

>Ella,  a  javclynne  grypped  yn  eyther  honde, 
Hyes  to  the  thronge,  and  doomcs  two  Dacy- 

anncs  deadde. 

After  hys  a<Se,  the  armie  all  yfpedde  ; 
Fromm  everich  on  unmyflynge  javlynnes  flewe  ; 
TPheie  llraughte  yer  doughtie  fwerdes  ;  the  foe- 

meen  bledde  ;  [flewe  ; 

Full  three  of  foure  of  myghtie  Danes  dheie 
The  Danes,  wythe  terroure  rulynge  att  their 

head,  fravenne  fledde. 

Tnrewe  downe  theyr  bannere  tafle,  and  lyche  a 
The  foHyerres  followed  wythe  a  myghte  crie, 
Cryes  yatte  wellc  myghte  the  floutefte  hartes 

affraie.  [annes  flie  ; 

Swefte  as  yer  fhyppes  the  vanquymed  Dacy- 
Swefte  as  the  rayne  uponne  an  Aprylle  daie, 
Frefiynge  behynde,  the  Englyfche  foldyerres 

flaie.  [maync  ; 

Botte  halfe  the  tythes  of  Danyflie  menne  re- 
.2Ella  commaundes  'heie  moulde  the  fleetre  ftaie, 
JBotte  bynde  'hem  pryfonncrs  on  the  bloddie 

playne. 

The  fyghtyne  beynge  done,  I  came  awaie, 
In  odher  fields  to  fyghte  a  moe  unequalle  fraie. 

ZVIie  fervant  fquyrel 

CEJLMONDE,  SERVITOURE. 
Cdmondi. 

Prepare  a  fleing  horfe, 
Whofe  feete  are  wynges,  whofe  pace  ys  lycke 

the  wynde,  [yn  courfe, 

V/hoe  wylle  outftreppe  the  morneynge  lyghte 
l>eaveynge  the  gytdes  of  the  merke  behynde. 
Somme  hyltren  matters  doe  mie  prefence  fynde. 
Gyv  oute  to  alle  yatte  I  was  fleene  ynne  fyghte. 
Gyffynnethys  garethou  doeft  mie  order  mynde, 
Whanne  I  returne  thou  fhalt  be  made  a  knyghte; 
Flie,  flie,  be  gon  ;  an  howerre  ys  a  daie  ; 
<Jnycke  dyghte.mie  btfte  of  ftedes,  and  brynge 

hymm  heere—  a-vaie  ! 
CclmonJe. 

./Ella  ys  wounded  fore,  and  ynne  the  toune 
He  waytethe,  tylle  hys  woundes  bee  broghte 

to  ethe.  [croune, 

And  flialle  I  from  hys  browes  plocke  off  the 
Makynge  the  vy<ftore  yn  hys  vyctork  blethe  ? 
O  no  !  lulle  fooner  fchulde  mie  hartes  blodde 

fmethc, 

Fulle  foonere  woulde  I  tortured  bee  toe  deathe  ; 
Botte—  Birtha  ys  the  pryze;  ahe!  ytte  were  ethe 
To  gayne  fo  gayne  a  pryze  wythe  loile  of  breathe; 
Botte  thanne  rennome  aterne  98  —  ytte  ys  botte 

ayrc  ;  [there. 

Iredde  ynne  the  phantafie,  and  alleyn  lyvynge 

Albeytte  everyche  thinge  yn  lyfe  confpyre 
To  telle  me  of  the  faulte  I  nowe  fchulde  doe, 


Eternal. 


Yette  woulde  I  battcnlie  afluage  mie  fyrc, 
And  the  fame  menes  as  I  fcall  nowc  purfue. 
The  qualytyes  I  fro  mie  parentes  drewe 
Were  blodde,  and  morther,  mafterie,  and  warre; 
Thie  I  wylle  holde  to  now,  and  hede  ne  moc 
A  wounde  yn  rennome,  yanne  a  boddie  fcarre. 
Nowe,  JElla,  nowe  Ime  plantynge  of  a  thorne, 
Bic  whyche  thie  peace,  thie  love,  and  glorie  flialle 
be  torne. 

BRYSTOWE. 

BIRTHA,    ECWINA. 

JSirjba. 

GENTLE  Egwina,  do  notte  preche  me  joie ; 
I  cannotte  joie  ynne  anie  thynge  botte  were  99. 
Oh !  yatte  aughte  fchulde  cure  fcllyneffe  deftroie, 
Floddynge  the  face  wythe  woe  and  brynie  teare ! 

Eg-wina. 

You  mufte,  you  mufte  endeavour  for  to  cheere 
Youre  harte  unto  fomme  cherifaunced  refte. 
Youre  loverde  from  the  battle  wylle  appere, 
Ynne  hononre,  and  a  greater  love,  be  drefte ; 
Botte  I  wylle  call  the.  mynftrelles  roundekie ; 
Parchaunce  the  fwotie  founde  maic  chafe  your 
wierc  99  awaie. 

BIRTHA,  EGWINA,  MYNSTRELLES. 

Mynflrcllci  Spnge. 
O  !  fynge  untoe  mie  roundelate, 
O  !  droppe  the  brynie  teare  wythe  mee, 
Daunce  n«  moe  atte  hallie  daie, 
Lycke  a  reynnnge  100  ry ver  bee ; 

Mie  love  ys  dedde, 

Gon  to  hys  death-beddc, 

Al  under  the  wyllowe  treej 

Blacke  hys  cryne  101  as  the  wyntere  nyghte, 
Whyte  hys  rode  loa  as  the  fommer  fnowe, 
Rodde  hys  face  as  the  mornynge  lyghte, 
Cald  he  lyes  ynne  the  grave  belowe ; 

Mie  love  ys  dedde, 

Gon  to  hys  death-bedde, 

Al  under  the  wyllowe  tree. 

Swote  hys  tyngue  as  the  throttles  note, 
Quycke  ynn  daunce  as  thought  cannc  bee, 
Dcfe  hys  taboure,  codgelle  ftote, 
O  1  hee  lyes  bie  the  wyllowe  tree  * 

Mie  love  ys  dedde, 

Gonne  to  hys  deathe-bcdde, 

Alle  under  the  wyllowe  tree. 

Harke  \  the  ravenne  flappes  hys  wynge. 
In  the  briered  delle  belowe ; 
Harke  !  the  dethe-owle  loude  dothe  fynge, 
To  the  nyghte-mares  as  heie  goe  j 

Mie  love  ys  dedde, 

Gonne  to  hys  deathe-bedde, 

Al  under  the  wyllowe  tree. 

See  !  the  whyte  moone  fhecnes  onne  hie  ; 
Whyterre  ys  mie  true  loves  fhroude ; 
Whyterre  yanne  the  mornynge  ikie, 
Whytcrre  yanne  the  even/nge  clonde  ; 


99  Grief.    ioe  running.    201  hair*    J  o»  cor.>-- 
plexion. 


O    E    M    & 


M?e  love  ys  dedde, 

Gon  to  hys  deathe-bcdde, 

Al  under  the  wyllow  tree. 

Heere  uponne  mie  true  loves  grave, 
Schalle  the  baren  fleurs  be  laydc, 
Nee  on  bailie  fcyniSte  to  fave 
Al  the  celnefs  of  a  mayde. 

Mie  love  ys  dedde, 

Gone  to  hys  death-bedde, 

Al  under  the  wyllow  tree. 

Wythe  mie  hondes  I'll  dente  the  brierei 
Rounde  his  hallie  corle  to  gre, 
Ouphante  fairie,  lyghte  your  fyres, 
Hcere  mie  bodie  ftifl  fchalle  bee. 

My  love  ys  dedde, 

Gon  to  hys  death-bedde, 

Al  under  the  wyllowe  tree. 

Comme,  wythe  acorne-coppe  and  diorne, 
Drayne  mie  hartys  blodde  awaie ; 
Lyfe  and  all  ytts  goode  1  fcorne, 
Daunce  bk  nete,  or  feafte  by  dale. 

Mie  love  ys  dedde, 

Gon  to  hys  death-bedde, 

Al  under  the  wyllowe  tree. 
Waterre  wythes,  crown  ede  wythe  rcytes  103 
Bere  mee  to  ycr  leathalle  tyde. 
I  die;  I  commc;  mie  true  lovewaytes. 
Thos  the  daiufelle  fpake,  and  dyed. 

Sirtba. 
Thys  fyngyng  haveth  whatte  coulde  make  ytte 

plcafe ;  [cafe. 

lutte  mie  uncourtlie  fhappe  benymmes  mee  of  all 

JELLA,  ATTE  WATCHETTE. 

CimsE  onne  mie  tardie  woundcs  I  brynge  mee 

a  ftede! 

I  wylle  awaie  to  Birtha  tie  thys  nyghte ; 
Albeyttc  fro  mie  woundcs  mie  foul  doe  blede, 
I  wylle  awaie,  and  die  wy  thynne  her  fyghte. 
Brynge  mee  a  ftcde,  wythe  eagle  wynges  for 

flyghte , 

Swefte  as  mie  wyflie,and,  as  mie  love  ys  ftronge. 
The  Danes  have  wrought  mee  myckle  woe 

ynne  fyghte, 
Inne  kepeynge  mee  from  Birtha's  armes  fo  longe. 

0  !  whatte  a  dome  was  myne,  fythe  mafterie 
Cannc  veve  ne  plcafaunce,  nor  mie  londes  goode 

leme  myne  eid ! 

Yee  goddcs,  howe  ys  a  loverrcs  temper  formed! 
Some  tyrnes  the  &mmc  thynge  wyu  both  bane 

and  bleffe  ?  [warmed, 

Ontymeencalede  iO4,yanncbie  the  fame  thynge 
Eftroughted  foorthe,  and  yanne  ybroghten  lefs. 
'•Tys  Birtha's  lofs  whyche  doe  mie  thoughts 

poffeffe ; 

1  wylle,  I  muft  awaie :  whie  ftaies  mie  ftede  ? 
Mie  hufcarles,  hyther  hafte  ;  prepare  a  drcffe, 
Whyche  couracyrs  105  yn  haltie  journies  ncde. 
O  heavens!  I  moft  awaie  to  Byrtna  eyne, 

for  yn  her  looks  I  fyndc  mie  beynge  doe  cn- 
twyne. 


103  Water-Sags.    104  frozen,  cold.  105  horfe 


347 


CELMONDE,  ATT  BRYSTOWE. 


TIM  worlde  ys  darke  wythe  nyghte;  the  wynde* 
arc  ftylle ;  [gJeme ; 

Fayntelic   the  mone  her  palyde    lyght  make* 

The  upryfte  106  fprytes  the  lylence  lettcn  107 
fylle, 

Wythe  ouphant  faeryes  joynyng  yna  the  dreme; 

1  he  forefte  fheenethe  wythe  the  fylver  leme ; 

Nowe  nwie  mie  love  be  fated  ynn  ytutreate ; 

Uponne  thelyncheof  fonunc  fwefte  revnvnir 
ftreme, 

Att  the  fwote  banquette  I  wylle  fwotelie  eate. 

Thys  ys  the  howfe ;  yee  hyndcs,  fwy thyn  apperr. 

CELMONDE,  SERVYTOURE. 

Ctltnonde. 

Go  telie  to  Birtha  ftrayte,  a  ftraungerc  waytethe 
here. 

'    CELMONDE,  BIRTHA. 

Birtbf. 

Cclmonde !  yee  feyn&eaj  I  hope  thoa  haflt 
goode  newes. 

CelmtnJc. 
The  hope  y»  lofte ;  for  heavie  newes  prepare. 

Birtba. 
Is  JEUa  welle  ? 

Celmonde. 

Hee  ly ves ;  and  ftylle  maie  ufc 
The  behylte  108  bleffynges  of  a  future  yearp. 

Birtba. 

Whatte  heavie  tydynge  thenne  have  I  to  feare  ? 
Of  whatte  mifchaunce  dydfte  thou  fo  Luelic 
faie  ? 

Ctlmtnde. 

For  heavie  tydyngcs  fwy  thyn  now  prepare. 
JElli\  fore  wounded  ys,  yn  bykerous  fraie  ; 
In  Wcdeceftcr's  wallid  toune  he  lies. 
SirtbM. 

0  mk  agroted  breaft'! 

Ceimondt. 
Wythoute  your  fyght  he  dye^, 

Birtta. 
Wylle  Birtha's  prefence  ethe  her  Ella's  payne  ? 

1  flie  ;  newe  wynges  doe  from  mie  fchoulderi 

fpryngc. 

CclmtnJt. 

Mie  ftede  wydhoute  wylle  dcfcelie  beere  in 
twayne. 

Birtha. 

Oh !  I  wyll  flie  as  wynde,  and  no  -ware  lyng«  ; 
Sweftlie  caparifons  for  rydynge  brynge  ; 
I  have    a  mynde  wynged  wythe  the  ievyne 

ploome. 

O  JElla,  .flilla !  dydfte  thou  kenne  the  ftynge. 
The  vvhiche    doeth  canker  ynne  mie  harty* 
roome,  [bee : 

Thou  wouldfte  fee  playne  thiefelfe  the  gare  t» 
Aryfe,  uponne  thic  love,  and  Hie  to  meeten met. 

Celmonde. 

The  ftede,  on  whyche  I  came,  ys  fwefte  as  syre ; 
Mie  fervytoures  doe  wayte  mee  nere  the  wode  ; 
Swythynne  wythe  mee  unto  the  place  repayre^ 
To  JfMa.  I  wylle  gev  you  conduct  goode. 


I«6  Rifcc.     107  church-yard.    108  proiuilei. 


348 


THE  WORKS   OF  CHA^TERTON. 


Your«  eyne,  at}-chc  a  baulm*,    wyll  ftaunche 

hys  blonde, 
Holpe  oppe  hys  wcmndes,  and  yev  hys  hearte 

alle  cheere : 

TJponne  your  eyne  heholdss  hyslyyelyhode  109; 
You  doe  hys  fpryte,and  alle  hys  pleafaunce  here. 
Comme,  lette's  awaie,  albeytte  ytte  ys  moke, 
"Yette   love   wille  bee  a  tore  to   tourne  to  feere 

nyghtes  fmoke. 

B'trtta. 

Albeytte  unweares  dyd  the  wdkynn  rende, 
Reyne,  alyche  fallyng  ryvers,  dyd  ferfe  bee, 
Erthe  wythe  the  ayre  enchafed  dyd  contende, 
Everychone  breathe  of  wynde  wythe  plagues 

dyd  flee, 

Yette  I  to  JElla's  eyne  eftfoones  woulde  flee ; 
Aibeytte  hawthornes  dyd  me  flifhe  enfeme, 
Owlettes,  wythe  lcrychynge,fliakeynge  every  chc 

tree, 

And  water-neders  wrygglynge  yn  eche  ftrcme, 
Yette  woulde  I  flic,  ne  under  coverte  ftaie, 
Jotte   feke   mie    ./Ella    ovrte;    brave  Celmonde, 

leade  the  waie. 

A  WOODE. 

HURRA,    DANES. 

Hurra. 

HF.ERE  ynnyis  forreite  lette  uswatche  for  pree, 
Bewreckeynge  on  our  foemenne  cure  ylle 

warre ; 

Whatteverre  fchalle  be  Englyfch  wee  wylle  flea, 
Spreddynge  our  ugfomme  rennome  to  afarre. 
Ye  Daeyanne   menne,    gyfF  Dacyanne   menne 

yee  are, 

Lette  nete  botte  blodde  fuffycyle  for  yee  bee; 
On  everych  breafte  yn  gorie  letteres  fcarre, 
What  fprytesyou  have,  and  howe-  thofe  fprytes 

maie  dree. 

And  gyfFyee  gette  awale  to  Denmarkes  fhore, 
Eftefoones  we  will  retourne,    and  vanquiflied  bee 

ne  moere, 

The  battelle  lofte,  a  battelle  was  yndede  ; 
Note  qucedes  hemfelfes  culde  ftonde  fo  harde  a 

fraie ;  [blede, 

Oure  verie  armoure, '  aid  our  healmes  dyd 
The  Dacyannes  fprytes,  lyche  dewe  drops, 

fledde  awaie. 

Ytt  was  an  ./Ella  dyd  commaunde  the  daie ; 
Ynn  fpytte  of  foemanne,  I  moft  faie  hys  myghte  ; 
Botte  wee  ynn  hynd  lettes  blodde  the  lofs  wylle 

paie, 
Brynnyngc,  thatte  we  knovve  howe  to  wynne 

yn  fyghte ;  [deftroie ; — 

Wee  wylle,  lyke  wylfes  enloofed  from  chaynes, 

Oure  armoures — wyntcr  nyghte  fhotte  oute  the 

daic  of  joie. 
Whcne    fwefte-fote    tyme  doe   rolle    the  daie 

alonge,  [brende ; 

Somme  hamlette  fcalle  onto  oure  fhuyrie 
Braftynge  alyche  a  rocke,  or  mountayne  ftronge, 
The  talle  chyrche-fpyre  upon  the  grene  fhalle 

bende ;  [rende, 

Wee  wylle  the  walles;  and  auntyante  tourettes 


109  Life. 


Pete  everych   tree   whych  goldyn  fruyte  doc 

bcere, 

Downe  to  the  goddestheownerrsdhere  of  fende, 
Befprengynge  alie  abrode  fadde  warre  and  bloddic 

weere. 

Botte  fyrfte  to  yynder  oke-tree  wee  wylle  flie  ; 
And  thence  wylle  yffue  owte  onne  all  yatte  cora- 
meth  bie. 

ANODHER  PARTE  OF  THE  WOODE. 

CELMONDt,    BIRTHA. 

Birtba. 
Tprs    merknefs    doe    affraie    mie     wommanns 

breafte. 

Howe  fable  ys  the  fpredynge  flde  arrayde ! 
Haihe  the  bordeleire,  who  lyves  to  refte, 
Ne  ys'att  nyghts  flemynge  hue  dyfmayde  ; 
The  flarres  doe  fcantillie  ni»  the  fable  brayde; 
Wyde  ys  the  fylver  lemes  of  comforte  wove ; 
Speke,  Celmonde,  does   ytte  make  thce  notte 
afrayde  ? 

Cdmtnde. 
Merker  the  nyghte.  fitter  tyde  for  love. 

Birtha. 

Saieft  thou  for  love  ?  ah '.  love  is  far  awaie. 
Faygne  would  I  fee  once  moe  the  roddie  leine»  of 
daie. 

Celmonde. 

Love  maie  bee  nie,  woulde  Birtha  calle  ytte 
here. 

Blrtl*. 
How,  Celmonde,  dot  he  thou  mene  ? 

Celmonde. 

Thys  Celmonde  menes. 

No  leme,  no  eyne,  ne  mortalle  manne  appere, 
Ne  lyghte,  an  a&  of  love  for  to  bewreene  ; 
Nete  in  thys  forrefte, botte  thys  tore  in,  dothe 
Iheene,  [nyg^1  \ 

The  whych,  potte  oute,  do  leave  the  whole  ya 
See  !  howe  the   brauncynge   trees  do  here  en- 
twyne,  [fyghte ; 

Makeyng   .thy    bower    fo    pleafynge    to    the 
Thys  was   for   love   fyrft   made,  and  here  ytt 

ftondes, 

That  hereynne  lovers    maie    enlyncke  yp   true 
loves  bondes. 

Birtba, 
Celmonde,  fpeake  whatte  thou  menefl,  or  alfc 

mie  thoughtes 
Perchaunce  maie  robbe  thie  honeftie  fo  fayrc. 

Ctlmonde. 
Then    here,   and  knowe,    hereto  I  have   yoa 

broughte, 
Mie  longe  hydde  love  unto  you  to  make  clere. 

Birtba. 
O   heaven  and   earthe  !  whatte  ys  ytt  I  'doe 

heare  ?. 
Am  1  betrafte  112  ?  where  ys  mie  JElla,  faie  ? 

CelmonJe. 

O  !  do  nette  now  to  JEllz  fyke  love  here, 
Botte  geven  fome  onne  Celmondes  hedde. 


no  Scarcely,  fparingly.    in  t»rch» 
trayed. 


be 


POEMS. 


.     Elrtla. 

Awaie  ! 

Ixvylle  be  gor.e,  and  gioape  mie  paffage  outc, 
Albeyttc  neders  ftynges  mie  legs  do  twyne  aboute. 

CJmende. 

Ncwe  bie  the  feyndes  I  wylle  nctte  lette  thee 
goc, 

Ontylle  thou  doefte  mie  brcndynge-  love  amate. 

Thofe  eyne  have  cau'td  Cthnt-ndc  myckle  woe, 

Ytnne  lette  yer  fmylc  fyril  fake  hyir.m  yn  re- 
grate. 

0  !  didft  thou  fee  mie  breaflis  troblous  ftate, 
Theere  love  doth  ha.rrie  up  mie  joie,  and  ethe ! 

1  -wretched  bee,  beyonde  the  hele  of  fate, 
Gyff  Birtha  ftylle  wylle  make  mie  harte-veynes 

bkthc. 

Softe  as  the.  fommer  fiowreets,  Birtha,  looke, 
Tulle  ylle  1  canne  thie  frownes  and  harde  dyf- 
pleafaunce  brooke. 
'      -     Birtha 

Thie  love  ys-foujc;  I  wouldc  bee  deafe  for  aie, 

Radhcr  thanr>'-  heere  fyche  deflavatie  113  fedde. 

Swythynne  flic  from  nice,  and  ne  further  faie; 

Radher  thanne  heare  thie  love,  I  woulde  bee 

dead.  [hedde, 

Yee   feyr.des !  and  flial  I  wronge  mie  ./Ella's 

,  And  v.  culdit  thou,  Celmonde,  tempte  me  to  the 

thyngc.? 

Lett  met  be-  gone — alle  curfes  onne  thie  hedde  ! 
Was  ytte  for  thys  thou  dydfte  a  meflage  brynge ! 
Lette  mee  be  gone,  thou  ma  one  of  fable  hartc  ! 
Cr  wclkyn  114  and  her  ftarres  wyll  take  a  may- 
dens  parte. 

Celmonde. 

gyrhence  you  wylle  notte"  lette  mie  fuyte  avele, 

Mie  love  wylle  have  yttes  joic,  altho  -wythe 

guyltc  ;  [ftele ; 

Your  lymbes  fhall  bende,  albeytte  flrynge  as 

The     mcrkye     fcefonne    wylle     your    blofhes 

hyltc  HJ.  ' 

Birtba. 

Holpe,  holpe, ye  feyndes!  oh  thatte  mie  blodde 
was  fpylte ! 

Celmonde, 
The  feyndes  att  diftaunce  flonde  ynn  tyme  of 

nede. 
Strev  notte  to  goe  ;  thou  canfte  notte,.  gyff  thou 

wylte. 
Unto  mie  wyfche  bee  kinde,  and  nete  alfe  hede. 

Birtka. 

No,  foule  beftoykerre,  I  wylle  rende  the  ayrc, 
Tylle  dethe  to  ftaie  mie  dynne,  or  fomme  kynde 

roder  heare. 
Holpe  !  holpe  !  oh  Godde  ! 

CELMONDE,  BIRTHA,  HURRA,  DANES. 

Hurra. 

Ah  !  thatts  a  wommane  cries. 
I  kenn  hem ;  faie,  who  are  you,  yatte  bee  theere  ? 

Celmonde. 

Yee  hyndes,  awaie !  orre  bie  thys  fwerde  yee 
dies, 

Hurra. 
Thie  wordes  wylle  ne  mie  hartis  fete  affere. 


349 


S'n'iLa. 
Save  mee,  oh !  fave  me  from  thys  royncr  liecrc! 

Hurra. 
Stonde  thou  bie  mie ;   now  faie  thie  name  and 

londc  ; 
Or  fwythyne  fchall  mie  fwerde  thie  boddic  tare. 

Celmonde 

Bothe  I  wylle  fhewe  thee  bie  mie  broodeousli6 
hoiide. 

Ilurr.i. 

Befctte  hym  rounde,  yee  Danes. 
Celmondc.  . 

Come  onne,  and  fee          [bar. 
Gyff  mie  ftrynge  anlace  maie  bewrycn  whattc  I 
[Fycr/jte    al  anenjle    Ctlmonde,   mayutt  Dants    if 
Jleatb,  andfaleth  to  Hurra. 

Celmonde. 

Oh !  I  forflagen  117  bee  \  ye  Danes  now  kenne. 
I  amme  yatte  Celmonde,  feconde  yn  the'fyghte. 
Who  dydd,  atte  Watchette,  fo  forflepcvoure 
'ir.cnne;  [nyghte;— 

I    fele    myne    eyne    to    fwymme    yn    xternc. 
To  her  be  kynde.  [ZW*i. 

Hurra. 

Thenne  fclle  a  wordhie  Icnyghtc.    f 
Sale,  vfho  bee  you  ? 

Birtba. 

I  am  greatc  yEUa's  wyfe, 
Hurra. 
Ah! 

Birtta. 

Gyffanenfte  hym  you  harboure  foule  dcfpytc, 

Nowe  wythe  the  lethal  anlace 'take  mie  lyfe, 

Me  thankes  I  ever  onne  you  wylle  beftowe, 

From  ewbryce  118  you  mee  pyghte,  the  worfte  of 

mortal  woe. 

Hurra. 

I  wylle  ;  ytte  fcalle  bee  foe :  ye  Dacyanj,  herfr 
Thys  j^lla  havethe  been  cure  foe  for  aie. 
Thorrowe  the  battelle  he  dyd  brondeous  teare, 
Bcyng  the  lyfe  and  head  of  everyche  fraie; 
From  everych  Dacyanne  power  he  won  the  daie, 
Forflagen  Magnus,  all  oure  fchippes  ybrente; 
Bie  hys  felle  arme  wee  now  are  made  to  ftraie; 
The  fpeere  of  Dacya  he  ynn  pieces  fliente; 
Whanne  hantoned  barckes  unto  our  londe  dyd 

comme, 

the  gare  dheie  fed,  and  wyfched  hym  byt- 
ter  dome. 

Birtba. 
Mercie ! 

Hurra. 
Bee  ftylle. 

Bottc  yette  he  ys  a  foemanne  goode  and  fayre ; 
Wbanne  wee  are  fpcnte,  he  foundcthe  the  for* 

loyne ; 

The  capty ves  chayne  he  toflcth  ynne  the  ayre, 
Cheered  the  wounded  bothe  wythe  brcdde  and 

wyne ; 

Has  hee  notte  untoe  fomme  of  you  bynn  dygne? 
You  would  have  fmethed  onne  Wedeceflrian 

fielde, 

Botte  hee  behylte  the  flughorne  for  to  cleyne, 
Throwynge  onne  hys  wyde  backe,  hys  wyder 
ipreddynge  filicide. 


Letchery.     114  Heaven, 


116  Fsrious.    117  flain.    118  adultcr)'. 


g5e  THE  WORK*  OF 

Whanne  yen,  as  caytyfncd,  yn  fielde  dyd  bee, 
Hee  oathed  you  to  bee  ftylk,  and  flray  te  dydd  fette 
you  free. 

tkalle  wee  forflegellp  hy«  wyfc,  becaufc  he's 

brave  ? 

Bicaur,  hee  fyghtcth  for  hy»  countryes  gare  ? 
Wylle  hee,  who  havith  bynne  yis  ./Ella's  flave, 
Robbe  hym  of  whatte  percafe  he  holdith  dcerc? 
Or  fcalle  we  menne  or  mennys  fprytes  apperc, 
JDoeyngo  hym  favoure  for  liys  favoure  donnc, 
Swefte  to  hys  pallace  thys  damoifclle  bere, 
Bewrynne  oure  cafe,  and  to  «ure  waie  be  gonne  ? 
The  laft  you  do  approve ;  fo  lette  ytte  bee ; 
Damoyfelle,  comme  awaie;    you  lafe  fcalle  bee 

wythe  mee. 

Birtha. 

AI  bleffynges  maie  the  feynfies  unto  yee  gyve  ! 
Al  pleafaunce  maie  youre  longe-ftraughte 

livynges  bee ! 

JElla,  whanne  knowynge  thattc  bie  you  I  lyve, 
Wyik  thyncke  too  fmalle  a  guyfte  the  londe 

and  fea. 

O  Celmonde  !  I  maie  deftlie  rede  bie  thee, 
Whatte  ille  betydethe  the  enfoukd  kynde ; 
Maie  ne  thie  crofs-ftoneiao  of  thie  crynie  be- 

wree !  [mynde ! 

Maie  alle  menne  ken  thie  valoure,  fewe  thie 
Soldyer !  for  fyke  thou  arte  yim  noble  fraie, 
I  wylk  thie  goinges  'tende,  and  doe  thou  lede  the 

waic. 

Hurra. 

The  mornynge  'gyns  alonge  the  eafte  to  fheene ; 
.Darklinge  the  lyghte  doe  onne  the  waters  plaie; 
The  feynte  rodde  leme  flowe  creepeth  oere  the 

greene, 

Toe  chafe  the  merkynefs  of  nyghte  awaie ; 
Swifte  flies  the  howers  thatte  wylle  brynge  oute 

the  daie ; 
The  fofte   dewe    falleth  onne    the  greeynge 

grafle; 

The  fliepfter  mayden,  dyghtynge  her  arraie, 
Scanteizi  fees  her  vyfage  yn  the  wavie  glafie; 
Bie  the  fullc  daylieghte  wee  fcalle  /Ella  lee, 
Or  Bryftowes  wallyd  towne ;  damoyfelle,  followe 


AT  BRYSTOWE. 

JELLA  AND  SERVITOUXES. 

JE.Ha. 

Trs  nowe  fulk  morne ;  I  thoughten,  bie  lafte 
nyghte  ,  [love ; 

To  have  been  heere ;  mie  ftcde  han  notte  mie 
Thys  y*  mie  pallace  ;  lette  mie  hyndss  alyghte, 
Whylftc  1  goe  oppe,  and  wake  mie  flepeynge 

dove. 

Staie  here,  mie  hyndlettes ;  I  fhal  goe  above. 
Nowe,  Birtha,  wyil  thie  loke  enhele  mie  fpryte, 
Thie  fmyks  unto  mie  woundes  a  bauline  wylle 

prove ; 

Mie  ledanne  boddie  wylle  be  fette  aryghte. 
Igwina,  hafte,  and  ope  the  portalle  doore, 
Yatte  I  on  Birtha's  brefte  maie  thynke  of  warre 
ne  more. 


CHATTERTON. 

JE.Ua,  Egii-in*, 
Eg-wina. 

Oh  JEll* ! 

JElla, 

'     Ah !  that  femmlykcenc  to  mee 
Speckcth  a  legendary  tale  of  woe. 

Egviina. 
Birtha  is— 

JElla. 
Whatt  ?  where  ?  how  ?  faie,  whatte  of  fliee  ? 

jSgteoM. 
Gone — 

JElla. 

Gone  !  ye  goddes ! 
Rg-wtna. 

Alas !  ytte  ys  toe  true. 
Yee  feyndes,  hee  dies  awaie  wythe  myckle 

woe ! 
^lla  !  what  ?  .flBlla  !  oh  \  hee  ly  ves  agen. 

JElla. 

Cal  mee  notte  ^Ella  5 1  am  hymme  ne  moe. 
Where  ys  fhee  gon  awaie  I  ah !  fpeake  !  how  ? 
when  ? 

Eg-wina. 
I  will. 

JElla. 

Caparyfon  a  fcorc  of  fledes ;  flic,  flic. 
Where  vs  fliee  ?  fwythynne  fpeeke,  or  inftante 
thou  (hake  die. 

£gwina. 

Sty  He  thie  loud  rage,  and  here  thou  whatte  I 
knowe. 

JElla. 
Oh!  fpeek. 

Egtvina. 

Lyche  prymrofe,  droepynge  wythc  the  he*vic 

rayne,  [wiere, 

Lafle  nyghte  I  lefte  Kcr,  droopynge  wythe  h,er 

Her  love  the  gare,  thatte  gave  her  hartc  fyke 

peync— 

JElla. 
Her  love  !  to  whomme  ? 

Egivlna. 

To  thee,  her  fponfe  alJeyneiiz. 
As  ys  mie  hentylle  everyche  morne  to  goe, 
I  wente,  and  oped  her  chamber  doore  yna 

twayne, 

Botte  found  her  notte,  as  I  was  wont  to  doe ; 
Thanne  alle  aronnde  the  pallace  I  dyd  feere  123, 
Botte  culde  (to  mie  hartes  woe)  ne  fynde  her 
anie  wheere. 

JElla. 

Thou  lyeft,  foul  hagge !  thou  lyeil ;  thou  art 

her  ayde  [bee. 

To  chere  her  loufte ;— hotte  noe ;  ytte  cannotte 

Egicina. 

Gyff  trouthe  appear  notte  inne  whatte  I  have 

fayde,  [flea. 

Drawe  forthe  thie  anlace  fwythyn,  thanne  mee 

JElla. 

Botte  yette  ytte  mufte,  ytte  muftebee  foe;  I  fee, 
Shee  wythe  fomme  louftie  paramoure  ys  gone ; 
Itte  mofte  bee  foe— oh !  how  ytte  wracketh  meet 
Mie  race  of  love,  mie  race  of  lyfe  ys  runne ; 


219  Slay.    130  monument.    12 1  fcarce. 


tit  Only,  alone.    Z2J  fcarch. 


P    O    E 

Kowe  rage,  and  brondeous  ftorm,  and  tempefte 

comme  ;  [Jomme. 

Nete  lyvyng  upon  erthe  can  now  enfwote  mie 

^LLA,  EGWINA,  SERVYTOURE. 

Strvytowt. 

Loverde  1  I  am  aboutte  the  trouthe  to  faie. 
Latte  nyghte,  fulle  late  I  dydde  retourne  to  refte. 
As  to  mie  chamber  I  dydde  bende  mie  waie, 
To  Birtha  onne  hys  name  and  place  addrefte  ; 
Downe  to  hym  camme  (he  ;  butte  thereof  the 

refte 

1  ken  ne  matter  ;  fo,  mie  hommage  made— 
J&la. 

0  fpeake  nc  rnoe  ;  mie  harte  flames  yn  yttes 

hafte; 

1  once  was  JElla  ;  nowe  bee  notte  yttes  (hade. 
Hanne  alle  the  furie  of  mysfortunes  wylle 

Fallen  one  mie  bennedi24  heade-I  hanne  been 
JElla  ftylle. 

Thys  alleyn  was  unburledi25  of  alle  mie  fpryte  ; 
Mie  honoure,  honoure,  frownd  on  the  dolce  126 

wynde,  [pyghte; 

Thatte  Reeked  on  ytte  ;  nowe  wyth  rage  im- 
A  brondeous  unxveere  ys  mie  engyned  mynde. 
Mie  hommeur  yette  fomme  drybblet  joie  maie 

fynde, 

To  the  Danes  woundes  I  wylle  another  yeve  ; 
Whanne  thos  mie  rennome  127  and  mie  peace 

ys  rynde, 

Itte  were  a  recrandize  to  thyncke  to  lyve  ; 
Mie  hui'carles,  untoe  everie  afker  telle, 
Gyffe  noblie  y£lla  lyved,  as  noblie  ^llla  felle. 

[Stabbetb  byi  brtjle. 
Servytoure. 
JElla  ys  fleene  ;  the  flowerof  Englonde's  marrde. 


Be  ftylle  ;  fwythe  lette  the  chyrches  rynge  mie 

knelle. 

Call  hyther  brave  Coernyke  ;  he,  as  warde 
Of  thys  mie  Bryftowe  cattle,  wyll  doe  welle. 

[Kit  lie  ryxgttb. 

JELLA,  EGWINA,  SERVYTOURE,   COER 
NYKE. 

JElla. 

Thee  I  ordeyne  the  warde  ;  foe  alle  maie  telle, 
I  have  botte  lyttel  tym  to  dragee  thys  lyfe  ; 
Mie  lethal  tale,  alyche  a  lethal  ie  belle, 
J)ynne  yn  the  eares  of  her  I  wyfchd  mie  wyfe  ! 
Botte,  ah  !  fliee  maie  be  fayre. 


Yatte  (hee  mofte  bee. 
JEUa. 

Ah  !  faie  notte  foe  I  yatte  worde  would 
doubly  flee. 

;ELLA,   EGWINA,  SERVYTOURE,   COER- 
NYK.E,  BIRTHA,  HURRA. 

Mlla. 
Ah!  Birtha  here! 


I  »4  Curfed,  tormented.  125  unarmed.   1 26  foft, 
jf entle .     127  renown. 


M    S.  3st 

S'trtlt. 

Whatte  dynne  ys  thys  ?  whatte  menes  yis  lea- 
thalle  knelle  ?  [hee! 

Where  ys  mie  /Ella  ?  fpeeke  ;  where  ?  howe  ys 
Oh  /lllla  '.  art  them  yanne  alyve  and  welic? 

JElla. 
I  ly  ve  yndeed  ;  bottc  doe  nolle  lyve  for  thee. 

Birtba. 
What  menes  mie  ^BUa  ? 

JElla. 

Here  mie  meneynge  fee. 
Thie    foulnefs  urged  mie  honde   to  gvye    thjs 

wounde, 
Ytte  mee  unfprytesiiS. 

Birtha. 

Ytt  hathe  unfpryted  mee. 
JElla. 

Ah  Heavens!  mie  Birtha  fallethetothegrounde! 
Botte  yette  I  am  a  manne,  and  fo  wylle  bee. 

Hurra. 

yllUa  '.    I  amme  a  Dane  ;    botte  yette  a  friend 
to  thee. 

Thys  damoyfelle  I  founde  wythynne  a  woode, 
Strevynge  tulle  harde  anenfte  a  burled  fwayne  ; 
I  fente   hym  myrynge  ynne  mie  compheera 
blodde,  [trayne. 

Celmonde   hys   name,    chief  of  thie  warrynge 
Yis  damoifelle  ibughte  to  be  here  agayne  ; 
The  whyche,  albey  tte  foemen,  wee  dydd  wylle  ; 
So  here  wee  broughte  her  wythe  you  to  re- 
mayne. 

Ceerniit. 

Ye  nobylle  Danes  !  wythe  goulde  I  wyll  you 
fyllc. 

JElla. 

Birtha,  mie  lyfe  !  mie  love  !  oh  !  ihe  ys  fayre. 
Whatte  faultescouldeBirthahave,  whatte  faultes 
could  JClla  feare  ? 

Birtba. 
Amm  I  yenne  thyne  ?     I  cannotte  blame  thie 

feere, 

Botte  doe  refte  mee  upponne  mie  JElla'sbreafte; 
I  wylle  to  thee  bewryen  the  woefulle  gare. 
Celmonde  dyd  commc  to  mee  at  tyme  of  refte» 
Wordeynge  for  mee  to  flie,  att  your  requefte, 
To  Watchette  towne,  where  you  deceafynge 
laie  ;  [prefte, 

I  wyth  bym  fledde  ;  through  a  murke  wode  we 
Where  hee  fault  love  unto  mie  cares  dyd  faie  ; 
The  Danes  — 

JSlla. 

Oh  !  I  die  contente.—  [dietl. 

Birtba. 

Oh  !  ys  mie  vClla  dedde  ? 
O!  I  will  make  hys  grave  mie  vyrgyn  fpoufalbedde. 


Cternytt. 

Whatt  ?  JElla  deadde  '.  and  Birtha  dyynge  toe! 
Soe  falls  the  fayrelt  flourettes  of  the  playne. 
Who  canne  unplyte  the  wurchys  Heaven  ca« 

doe, 

Or  who  untwefte  the  role  of  ihappeyn  twtyne  ? 
.Sllla,  thie  rennome  was  thie  only  gaync; 


IS* 


THE  WORKS   OF  CHATTERTON. 


For  yatte,  thie  pleafaunce,  and  thie  joie  ,was 

lofte. 

Thie  countrymen  fliall  rcre  thee,  on  the  playne, 
A  pyle  of  carnes,  as  anie  grave  can  boafte ; 
Further,  a  ju.'t  amede  to  thee  to  bee, 
Inne  Heaven  thou  fynge  of  Godde,  on  erthe  we'lle 
fynge  of  thee. 

GODD  WYN; 

A  TRAGEDIE. 

Sy  Thomas  Roivleic. 

PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

HAROLDE,  hie  T.  Roivleie,  the  Auflhoure- 

GODDWYN,  bie  Johan  de  Jfcamme. 

ELWARDE,  bie  Syrr  Tybot  Gorges. 

AlSTAN,  bie  Syrr  Alan  de  Verc. 

K.YNGE  EDWARDE,  bie  Maftre  Willyam  Canyngf. 

Odbers  bie  Knyghles  Mynnjlrellcs. 


PROLOGUE. 


WHYLOME  i    bie   penfmeune  2     moke  3     un 
gentle  4  name 

Have  upon  Goddwynne  Earl  of  Kente  bin  layde, 
Dherebie  benymmynge  5  hymme  of  faie  6  and 

fame ; 

Unliart  7  divinftres  S  haveth  faide, 
Thatte    he    was    knowen    toe     noe    hallie  9 
ivurche  10 ;  [churche. 

Botte  thys  was  all  hys  faulte,  he  gyfted  ne  1 1  the 

The  aiidlhourei  2  of  the  piece  whiche  we  enacle, 
Albeytte  13  aclergyoni4,  trouthe  wyll  wrytte, 
Inne  drawypge  of  hys  menne  no  wytteys  lackte; 
Entyni5  a  kynge  mote  1 6  be  full  pleafed  to 

nyghte. 

Attende,  and  marcke  the  paries  now?  to  be  done ; 
Wee  better  for  to  doe  do  champyoniy  anie  once. 

GOD»WYN  AND  HAROLDI. 

Goddwyn. 

THAXOLBE  '. 

H fir  aide. 
Mie  loverde  1 8  ! 
Gaddiyytif 

O  !  I  weepe  to  thynclfeV  " 
What  foemen  19  rifeth  to  ifrete  2*  the  londe. 
Theie  batten  a  i  onne   her  flefhe,  her  heartes 

bloude  dryncke, 
And  all  ys  graunted  from  the  roieal  borde. 


i  Of  old,  formerly,  a  writers,  hiftorians.  3  much' 
4  inglorious.  5  bereaving.  6  faith.  7.  unforgiving. 
i  divines,  clergymen,  monks.  9.  holy.  10  work- 
ii  not.  Ii  author.  13  though,  notwithftanding. 
14  clerk,  or  clergyman.  15  entyn,  even.  16  might. 
17  challenge.  iS  lord.  19  foes,  ene«j.i?s.  so.de- 
your,  deftroy.  31  fjtteq. 


Harolde. 
Lette  notte  thie  agreme  22  blyn  23, 

ftonde  : 

Bee  I  toe  wepe,  I  wepe  in  teres  of  gore  : 
Am  I  betrafied  25,  fyke  26  fhulde  mie  burlie  27 
bronde  .  [I  bore. 

Dep  eyndleaS  the  wronges  on  hym  from  whom 

Goddivyn. 

I  ken  thie  fpryte  29  fulwel'Ie  ;  gentle  thou  art, 
Stringe  30,  ugfomme3i,rou32,aslmethynge33 
armyes  feeme ;  [parte, 

Yett  eft  34,  I  feare,  thie  chefes  35  toe  grete  a 
And  that  thie  rede  36  bee  efte  borne  downe  bie. 

brerne  37, 

What  tydynges  from  the  kynge  ? 
Harolde. 

His  Normans  know. 

I   make  noe  compheeres  of  the  fhemrynge  3!. 
trayne. 

Godd'wyn. 

Ah  Harolde  1  'tis  a  fyghte  of  myckle  woe, 
To  kenne  thefe  Normannes  everich  renncme. 

gayne. 
What  tydynge  withe  the  foulke  39  ? 

Harolde.   • 
Stylle  mormorynge  atte  yer  fhap  40,  ftylle  toej 

the  kynge 

Theie  rolle  theire  trobbles,  lyche  a  forgie  fea. 
Hane  Englonde  thenne  a  tongue,  butte  notte  a 
ftynge  ?  .  [bf'e  ? 

Dothe  alle  compleyne,  yette  none  wylle  ryghted 

Goddwyn..    . 

Awayte  the  tyme  whanne  Godde  wylle  fende- 
'   us  ayde. 

Harolde. 

No,  we  mufle  ftreve  to  ayde  ourefelves  wythe 
powre.  (pvayde. 

Whan  Godde  wylle  fende  us  ayde !  tis  fetelie  41 
Mofte  we  thofe  calke  42  awaie  the  lyve-lorige 
howre  ?  [dareynge  44, 

Tlios  croche  43  cure   armes,    ?.nd  ne  toe  lyve 
Unburled45,  undelievre  46,  unei'pryte  ? 
Far  fro  mie  harte  be   fled  thyk  48  thoughte  of 

peyne, 
Ille  free  mie  countrie,  or  Ille  die  yn  fyghte. 

Godd'wyn. 

Botte  lette  us  wayte  untylle  fomme  feafon  fytte. 
Mie  Kentyfhmen,  thie  Summertons  fhall  ryfe  ; 
Adented  49  prowefs  50  to  the  gite  51  of  witte, 
Agayne  the  argent  5 zhorfe  fliall  daunceyn  Ikies. 
Oh,  Harolde,  heere  forftraughteynge  53   waa- 

hope  54  lies. 
Englonde,  oh  Englonde,  tys  for  thee  Iblethe  55. 


22  Grievance  ,'  a  fenfe  of  it.  23  ceafe,  be  ftill. 
24  idly.  25  deceived,  impofed  on.  26  fo.  27  fury, 
ftnger,  rage.  28  paint,  difplay.  29  foul.  3oltrong. 
31  terrible.  32  horrid,  grim.  33  fmoking,  bleed 
ing.  34  oft.  35  heat,  rafhnefs.  36  counfel,  wif- 
dom.  37  ftrength,  alfoftrong.  38  taudry,  glim 
mering.  39  people.  40  fate,  deftiny.  41  nobly. 
43  caft.  43  crofs,  from  crouche,  a  crpfs.  44  at 
tempt,  or  endeavour.  45  unarmed.  46  unactive. 
47  unfpirited.  48  fuch.  49  fattened,  annexed.  .50 
might,  power.  51  mantle,  or  robe.  52  white,  al 
luding  to  the  arms  of  Kent,  a  horfe  faliant,  argeat.', 
53  diftra&ing.  v54defpair.  55  bleed, 


P    O    E 

Whylfte    Edwarde    to  thie  fonnes  wylle  nete 

alyie  56, 

Shuldc  anie  of  thie  fonnes  feleailglite  of  ethe  57  ? 

tfpponne  the  trone  58  I  fette  thee,  helde  thie 

crowne ;  [downe. 

Botte  oh !  twere  hommage  nowe  to  pyghte  59  thee 

Thou  arte  ail  preefte,  and  notheynge  of  the 

kynge. 

Thou  arte  all  Norman,  nothynge  of  mie  blodde. 

Know,    ytte  befeies  60  thee  notte  a  mafle  to 

fynge';  [Godde. 

Servynge  thie  leegefolcke  61  tliou  arte  fervyngt 

Harolde. 

Thenne  Ille  doe  heaven  a  fervyce.  To  the  fkyes 
The  dailie  contekes  62  of  the  londe  afcende. 
The  wyddowe,  fahdrelelfe,  and   bondemeunes 
cries  [ftende  65. 

Acheke  63  tlie  mokie  64   aire  and  heaven  a- 
On  us  the  rulers  doe  the  folcke  depende  ; 
Hancelled  66  from  erthe  thefe  Normanne  67 
hyndes  flialle  bee  ;  [brende  7°  J 

Lyche  a  batteritly  6S  low  69,  mie  fwerde  flialle 
Lyche    fallynge    fofte    rayne    droppes,    I  wyll 
hem  71  flea  72  ;  [fayte  73  : 

Wee  wayte  too  longe  ;  our  purpofe  wylle  de- 
Aboune  74  the  hyghe  empryze  75,  and  rouzc  the 
champyones  ftrayte. 
Goddwyn. 
Thie  fuller— 

Haroldg. 

Aye,  I  knowe  fhe  is  his  queene.  [fayre, 
Albeytte76,  dyd  fhee  fpeeke  her  foeraen  77 
I  wuldedequace  78  her  comelie  femlykeene  79, 
And  foulde  mie  bloddie  anlacc  80  yn  her  hayre. 

Goddwyn. 
Thye  fhuir  81  blyn  82. 

Harolde. 

No,  bydde  the  leathal  83  mere  £4, 
Uprifte  85   withe  hiltrene  86  wyndes  and  caufe 

unkend  87, 

Eehefte  88  it  to  be  lette  89  ;  fo  twy'lle  appeare, 

Eere  Harolde  hyde  hys  name,  his  contries  frende. 

The  gule-tfeynct  90  brygandyne9i,  the  adven- 

tayle92,  [prevayle. 

The  feerieanlacepzbrede  93(113!  make  miegarep4 

Godd-wyn. 

Harolde,  what  wuldeft  doe  ? 
Harolde. 

Bethyncke  thee  whatt. 

Here  liethe  Englonde,  all  her  drites  95  unfree, 
Here  liethe  Normans  coupynge  96  her  bie  lotte, 
Caltyfnyng  97  everich  native  plante  to  gre  98, 


M    S. 


353 


56  Allow.  57ea(e.  58  throne:  59  pluck.  60 
becomes.  61  fubjedls,  62  contentions,  complaints. 
63  choke.  64  dark,  cloudy.  65  aftonifli.  66  cut 
ftff,  deftroyed.  67  (laves.  68  loud  roarfng.  69 
flame  of  fire.  70  burn,  confume.  71  them.  71 
flay.  73  decay.  74  make  ready.  75  enterprife. 
^6  notwithftanding.  77  foes.  78  mangle;  deftroy. 
•79  beauty,  countenance.  So  an  ancient  fword.  Si 
fury.  82C«afe.  83  deadly.  84  lake.  85  fwollen. 
.  86'hidden.  87  unknown.  S3  command.  89  dill. 
<>o  red-ft/iined.  91,  92  parts  of  armour.  93  broad. 
§4  cauCe.  95  rights,  liberties.  95  cutting,  mang- 
iing-  97  forbidding.  98  grow. 
Vol.  XL 


Whatte  u-oulde  I  doe  >  I  bro-ndeous99  wuldc 
hem  flee  r ;  [breme  2  ; 

Tare  owte  theyre  fable  harte  bie  ryghfefulle 
Theyrc  deathe  a  mear.es  untoe  mie  lyfc  fljulde 
bee»  [llrenje. 

Mie  fpryte  fliulde  revelle  yntheyr  har^e-blodde 
Eftl'oones  I  wylle  bewryne3  inie  ragefulle  ire, 
And  Coddis  anlace  4  wielde  yu  furie  dyre. 

*       Goddtuyit. 

Whatte  wouldeft  thou  wythe  the  kynge  ? 
Harclde. 

Take  ofie  hys  crowne ; 

The  ruler  of  fomme  mynfter  5  hym  ordeyne ; 
Sette  uppe  fom  dygnei  6  than  I  han  pyghte  7 
downe  5  [gayne. 

And  peace  in  Englonde  fliulde  be  brayd  J>  a- 

Goddwyn* 

No,  lette  the  fuper-haMie  9  feyncle  kyngc  reygne, 
Ande  fomme  moe    reded  10    rule  the  unten- 

tyff  ri  reaulme  ; 

Kynge  Edv/arde,  yn  hys  cortefi-,  wylle  dcyene 

To  yielde    the    fpoilts,    and  alleyne  were  the 

heaulme :  [gayne» 

Botte  from  mie  harte  bee  everych  thoughte  of 

Not  anie  of  mie  kin  I  wyfche  him  to  ordeyne. 

Harolde. 

Tell  mee  the  meenes,  and  I  wylle  boute  ytte. 

ftrayte;  [done. 

Bete  12  mee  to  flea  13   miefelf,  ytte  flialle  bt 

Goddivyn. 

To   thee  I  wylle  fwythynne  14  the  menea  un- 

playtei5,  [fonne. 

Bie  whyche  thou,  Harolde,  flialte  be  proved  miu 

I  have  longe  feen  whatte  peynes  were  undergon, 

Whatte  agrames  16  braunce  17  out  from  tin: 

general  tree  :  [gron  :  •> 

The  tyme  ys  commynge,  whan  the  mollock  I  { 

Drented  io  of  alle  yts  fwolynge  21  owndes  2> 

.flialle  bee; 

Mie  remedie  is  goode  ;  cure  menne  fhall  ryfe  : 
Eftfoones  the  Normans  and  owre  agrame  23  flies. 

Haroldf. 

I  will  to  the  weft,  and   gemote  24   alle    mie 

knyghtes,  [asbrede2;J 

Wythe  bylies  that  pancleforblodde,andlheelde.< 

As  the  ybroched  26  nioonj  when  blaunch  47  fhe 

dyghtes  28 

The  woiieland  grounde  or  water-mantled  niedc; 
Wythe  honcles  whofe    myghte  canne  make  the 

doughtieft  29  blede, 

Who  efte  have  knelte  upon  forflagen  30  foes, 

Whoe  wythe  yer  fote  orreibjt  a  caftle  (lode  37^ 

Who  dare  on  kynges  for  to  bewrecke  33  yiere 

woes ;  [d»ie, 

Nowe  wylle  the  menne  of  Englonde  haile  the 

Whan  Goddwyn  leades  them  to  the  ryghtfuiletraie, 

99  furious,  i  flay.  2  ftrength.  3  declare.  4 
fword.  fmonaftery.  6  more  worthy.  7  pulled, 
plucked.  8  difplayed.  9  ovrr-righteous.  locoun- 
lelled,  more  wife,  n  uncareful,  neglected.  ii 
bid,  command.  13  flay.  i4prefently.  15  explain. 

16  grievances.   17  branch*    18  wet,  naoilt.    19  fen, 
moor.     20  drained.     21  fweiling.     22  waves,     aj 
grievance.     24  aflemblc.      25  bread.    .26  horned. 

17  white.     43  decks.     29mightieft,  molt  valiant. 
30  (lain.    3iovetfets.    3»  a  cattle. 

Z 


354 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHA.TTERTCN, 


Goddwyn. 

Botte  firfte  we'll  call  the  loverdesof  the  weft, 
The  cries  of  Mercia,  Conventrie  and  all ;  [befte, 
The  moe  wee  gayne.  the  gare  34  wylle  profper 
\Vythe  fyke  a  nomber  wee  can  never  fall. 

Harolde, 

True,  fo  wee  fal  doe  belt  to  lyncke  the  chayne, 
And  alle  attenes35  thefpreddyngekyngeciomme 
bynde.  [feygne 

No  crouched  .^dchampyone  wytheanhertetnoe 
Dyd  yffue  owte  the  haliie  37  fwerde  to  fynde, 
Than  I  nowe  ftrev  to  ryd  mie  londe  of  peyne. 
Goddwyn,   what  thancke*  owre  laboures  wylle 

enhepe  '. 

I'lle  ryfe  mie  friendes  untoe  the  bloddie  pleyne  ; 

I'llc  wake  the  honncure  thatte  ys  nowe  aflepe. 

When  wylle  the  chietes  mete  atte  thie  feftive 

halle,  [calle  ? 

That  I  wythe  voice  alowde  male  there  upon  'em 

Codditiyn. 
Next  eve,  mie  fonne. 

Harolde. 

Nowe.  Englonde,  ys  the  tyme, 
Whan  thee  or  thie  felle  foemens  caufe  moite  die. 
Thie    geafon  38    wronges   bee   reyne  39    ynto 

theyre  pryme ; 

Nowe  wylle  thie  fonnes  unto  thie  fuccoure  flie. 
Alyche  a  ftorm  egederinge  40  yn  the  fkie, 
Tys  fulle    ande  brafteth4i   on  the  chafer  42 

grounde ; 

Sycke  ihalle  mie  fhuirye  on  the  Normans  flic, 

And  alle  theyre  mittee43  menne  be  fleene  44 

arounde.  [fahe, 

Nowe,   nowe,   wylle    Harolde  or  oppreflionne 

Ne  moe  the  Englyflimenne  yn  vayne  for  hele  45 

(hal  calle. 

KYNGE  EDWARDE  AND  HYS  QUEENE. 

Queene. 

BOTTE,  loverde  46,  whie  fo  manie  Normannes 

here  ?  [londe. 

Mee  thynckethe  wee  bee  notte  yn  Englyfhe 

Thefe  browded  47  itraungers  alwaie  doe  appere, 

Theie  parte  yor  trone  48,  and  fete  at  your  ryghte 

hoade. 

Kynge. 

Go  to,  goe  to,  you  cioe  ne  underftonde : 
Theie  >eave  mee  lyffe,  and  dyd  mie  bowkie  49 
kene ;  (Vronde  ; 

Theie  dyd  mee  feefte,  and  did  embowie  50  me 
To  trete  hem  ylle  wulde  lette  mie  kyndnefle 
flepe. 

Queene* 

Mancas  5 1  you  have  yn  ftore,  and  to  them  parte ; 

Youre  leege-iblcke  52  make  moke  53  dole  54,  you 

have  theyr  worthe  afterte  55. 

34  Caufe.  35  at  once.  36  one  who  takes  up 
the  crois  in  order  to  fight  againft  the  Saracens. 
37  holy.  38  rare,  extraordinary,  ftrange.  39  run, 
ihot  up.  40  afiembling,  gathering.  41  buriteth. 
42  dry,  barren.  43  mighty.  44  (lain.  45  help. 
46  lord.  47  embroidered  ;  it  is  conjectured  em 
broidery  was  not  ufed  in  England  till  Henry  II. 
48  throne.  49  perfon,  body.  50  lodge.  51  marks. 
52  fubjedls.  53  much.  54  lamentation.  55  ne- 
gleded,  or  mailed,  by 


Kynge. 

I  hefte  56  no  rede  of  you.     I  ken  mie  friende?, 
Haliie  57  dheie  are,  fulle  ready  mee  to  hele  58. 
Theyre  volunde$59  are  yftorven  60  to  felf  endesj 
No  denwere  61  yn  mie  brefte  I  of  them  fele  : 
I  mufte  to  prayers ;  goe  yn,  and  you  do  wele  ; 
I  mufte  ne  lofe  the  dutie  of  the  dale  ; 
Go  inne,  go  ynne,  ande  viewe  the  azure  rele  62, 
Fulle  welie  I  wote  you  have  noe  mynde  toe 
praie. 

Queene. 

I  leeve  youe  to  doe  hommage  heaven-were  63  ; 
To  ferve  your  leege-iblcke  toe  is  doeynge  hommage 
there. 

KYNGE  AND  SYR  HUGHE. 

Kynge. 

Mie    friende,    Syr    Hughe,    whatte    tydynges 
brynges  thee  here  ? 
Hughe. 

There  is  no  mancas  yn  mie  loverdes  ente  64 ; 
The  hus  dyfpenfe  65  unpaied  doe  appere  ; 
The  lafte  receivure  66    ys    eftefoones  67    dif- 
pente  68. 

Kynge. 

Thenne  guylde  the  wefte. 
Hughe. 

Mie  loverde,  I  dyd  fpeke 

Untoe  the  mitte  69  Erie  Harolde  of  the  thynge  ; 

He  rayfed  hys  honde,    and  tmote  me  onne  the 

cheke,  [kynge. 

Saieynge,     go     bearre    thatte    meflage    to    the 

Kynge. 

Arace  70  hym  of  hys  powere  ;  bie  Goddis  worde, 
Ne  moe  thatte  Haroide    fliall  ywield  the  erlies 
fwerde. 

Hughe. 

Atte  feefon  fytte,  mie  loverde,  lette  itt  bee  ; 
Botte  nowe  the  fokke  doe  foe    enalfe7i    hys 
name,  [flea; 

In    ftrevvynge   to  flea  hymme,   ourfelves  wee 
Syke  ys  the  doughtynefs  72  of  hys  grete  fame. 

Jfynge. 

Hughe,  I  beethyncke,  thie  rede  73  ys  notte  to 

blame.  [yn  Kente. 

Botte  thou  maieft  fynde  fulle  ftore  of  marckes 

Hughe. 

Mie  noble  loverde,  Goddwyn  ys  the  fame  ;  Tent. 
He  Iweeres  he  wylle  notte  fwelle  the  Normans 

Kynge. 

Ah  traytoure  !  botte  mie   rage  I  wylle  com- 

maunde.  [the  launde. 

Thou  arte  a  Normanne,  Hughe,  a  ftraunger  to 

Thou  kenneile  howe  thefe  Englyche  erle  doe 

be  re 

Such  ftednefs  74  in  the  yll  and  evylle  thynge, 
Botte  atte  the  goode  theie  hover  yn  denwere  75, 
Onknowlachynge  76  gif  thereunto  to  clynge. 

56  Require,  afk.  57  holy.  58  help.  59  will' 
60  dead.  61  doubt.  62  waves.  63  heaven-ward, 
or  God-ward,  64  purfe,  ufed  here  probably  as  a 
treafury.  65  expence.  66  receipt.  6j  foon.  68 
expended.  6y  a  contraction  of  mighty.  70  diveft. 
7!  embrace.  72  mightinefs.  73  counfel.  74  firm- 
iiefs,  ftedfaftnefs.  75  doubt,  lufpenle.  76  not 
knowing. 


P    O    E    M    S\ 


355 


Ohwordie  fyke  a  marvclle  77  of  a  kynge ! 

0  Edwarde,  thou  deferveft  purer  leege  78; 
To  the  heie  79  (hulden  al  theire  mancas  brynge ; 
Thie  nodde  fnould  fave  mennc,and  thie  glomb  So 

forflegc  81. 

1  amme  no  curriedowe  82,  I  lacke  no  wire  83, 

I  fpeke  whatte  bee  the  trouthe,  and  whatt  uli  lee  is 
ryghte. 

Kynge. 

Thou  arte  a  hallie  84  nianne,  1  doe  thee  pryze. 
Comme,  comme,  and  here  and  hele  85  nice  ynn 

mie  prairei. 

Fulle  twentie  mancas  I  wylle  thee  alife  86, 
And  twayne  of  hamlettes  87  to  thee  and  th.e 

heyres. 

Soe  flialle  all  Normannes  from  mie  londe  be  fed., 
Theie  alleyn  8iJ  have  fyke  love  as  to  acquyre  yer 
bredde. 

CHORDS. 

Whan  freedom, drefle  yn  blodde-fteyned  vefte. 
To  everie  knyghte  her  warre-lbnge  funge. 
Uponne  her  hedde  wylde  wedes  werefpredde, 
A  gorie  anlace  bye  her  honge. 

She  daunced  onne  the  heathe; 
She  hearde  the  voice  of  deathe ; 
Pale-eyned  affryghte,  hys  harte  of  fylvef  hue, 
In  vayne  affayled  i  her  bofomme  to  acale  2 ; 
She  hearde  onflemed  3  the  fhriekynge  voice  of 

woe, 

And  fadnefle  ynne  the  owlette  fliake  the  dale. 
She  fhooke  the  burled  4  fpeerej 
On  hie  fhe  jefte  5  her  fheelde, 
Her  foemen  6  all  appere, 
And  flizze  7  alonge  the  feelde. 
Power,  wythe  his  heafod  8  ftraught  9  yntb  the 
ikyes,  [ftarre. 

Hys  fpeere  a  fonne-beame,   and  his  fheelde  a 
Alyche  10  twaie  II  brendeynge  ligronfyres  13 
rolls  hys  eyes,  [to  wan 

Chaftes  14  with  hys  yronne  feete  and  ibundcs 
She  fyttes  upon  a  rocke;   i 
She  bendes  before  hys  fpeere, 
She  ryfes  from  the  fhocke, 
Wieldynge  her  owne  yn  ayre. 
Harde  as  the  thonder  doth  fhe  drive  ytte  on, 
\Vytte  fcillye  ij  wympled  16  gies  17  ytte  to  hys 

crowne, 
Hys  longe  fharpe  fpeere, hys  fpreddynge  fheelde 

ys  gon, 

He  falles,  and  fallyhge  rolleth  thoufandes  down. 
War,  goare-faced  war,  bie  envie  burld  18, 

arift  19, 

Hys  feerie  heaulme  20  noddynge  to  the  ayre, 
Tenne  bloddie  arrowes  ynne  hys  ftreynynge — 


77  Wonder.  78  homage,  obeifance.  79  they. 
?o  frown.  81.  kill  82  curridowe,  flatterer.  83 
reward.  84  holy.  85  help.  86  allow  87  ma- 
rors.  88  alone.  I  endeavoured.  2  freeze.  3_un- 
difmayed.  4  armed,  pointed.  5  hoiile«l  on  high, 
raifed.  6  foes,  enemies.  7  fly.  8  head.  9  ftretch- 
ed.  10  like.  li  two.  IZ  flaming.  13  meteors. 
14  beats,  ftamps.  15  clofdy.  16  mantled,  cover 
ed.  17  guides.  »8  armed.  19  arofe.  20  helmet. 


ENGLYSH  METAMORPHOSIS. 

BIE   T.   ROWLE1E. 

BOOKE  I  i. 

WiiANNt   Scythyannes,   falvage  as  the  wolves 

thcie  chacde, 

Peynclcd  in  horrowc  2  formes  bie  nature  d         i-, 
Heckle^  .-  ynbeaft!kyns,  flepteuponneth 
And  \vy  h  the  morncynge  rouzed  the  v\uif,   to 

fyghtc, 

Swefte  as  defcendeyrige  Icmes^  o'f  roddie  lyjrlue 
Plonked  to  the  hulftred  5  K-dde  of  iaveyngclVas, 
Geru  6  the  blacke  mountuya  okes  yii  drybbkts  7 

twighte  8, 

And  ranne  yn  thouglit  along  the  azure  mees, 
Whofc  eyne  dyd  fct-rie  fliee.'i^,  like  blue-hayred 

dcfs9,  [clefs. 

That  drcene  haugc  upon  Dover's  (.-mWaunched  10 

Soft  boundcynge  overfwelleyn/.1  azure  relcs  II, 
The  falvagc  n^tyvcs  fawe  a  ihyppe  appere  ; 
Art  uncouthe  12.  den  were  13  to  theire  bofomme 

fteles ;  [of  fere, 

Theyre  myghte  ys  knoppcd  14  ynne  the  frofte 
The  headed  javlyn  liflcth  15  here  and  the-'  ; 
Theie  (londe,  theie  ronne,  theie  loke  with  eger 

eyne ;  [lie  ayre, 

The  fhyppea  fayle.boleynge  16  wythe  the  kynde- 
Ronrieth  to  harbour  from  the  beateynge  bryne ; 
Theie  dryve  awaie  aghafte,  whanne  to  the 

ftronde  [yn  honde. 

Aburled  17  Trojan  lepes,  wythe  Morglaien  fweerde 

Hymme  followede  eftfoones  hys  comphecres  lS< 

\vhdfe  fwcrdcs  [nete, 

Gleftred  lyke  gledeynge  19  ftarres  yhfae  froftie 
Hayleynge  theyre  capytayne  in  chirckynge  20 

wordes  [fete. 

Kynge  of  the  lande,  whereon  theie  fet  tneyre 
The  greete  kynge  Brutus  thanne  theie  dyd  hyiu 

greete. 

Prepared  for  battle,  marefchalled  the  fyghte  ; 
Theie  urg'd  the  vrarre,  the  natyvei  fledde,  as 

flete  [fyghte ; 

As  fleaynge  cloudes  that  fwymme  before  the 
Tyll  tyred  with  battles,  lor  to  ceefe  the  fraie, 
Theie  uncled  21  Brutus  kynge,  and"gavc  the  Tro- 

junns  fwaie. 

Twayne  of  twelve  years  hafl  lemed  22  up  the 
myndes,  [breflc^ 

Leggende  23  the  falvage  unthewes  24  of  theire 

Improved  in  myflerk  25  warre,  and  lymmed  26 
theyre  kyndcs, 

When  Brute  from  Brutons  fdnke  to  aterne  reftc. 


i  I  will  endeavour  to  get  the  remainder  of  thcfe 
poems.  2  unf-emly,  difagrceable.  3  wrapped.  4 
rays.  3  hidden,  feeret.  6  broke,  rent.  7  fmnll 
pieces.  8  pulled,  rent.  9  vapours,  meteors.  10. 
emblaunced*  II  ridges,  rifing  waves.  12,  13  un 
known  tremour.  14  fedened,  chained,  concealed. 
15  bonndeth.  16  fwelling.  17  armed.  iS  com* 
panions.  19  livid.  20  a  confii(l,-'.  r.oife.  21  A- 
nointed.  22  enlightened.  23  alloyed,  24fava<;r 
barbarity.  25  myftic.  26  ' 
7.1) 


3J<  THE   WORKS 

Eftfoons  the  gentle  Locryne  was  pofTeft 
Of  fwaie,  and  vefted  yn  the  paramente  27; 
Halceld  28  the  bykrous  29  Huns,  who  dyd  infefte 
Hys  wakeynge  kyngdom  wyth  a  foule  intente  ; 
As  hys  broade  fwerde  oer  Homberres  heade  was 
honge,  [aloiige. 

He  tourned  toe  ryver  \vyde,  and  roarynge  rolled 

He  wedded  Gendolyne  of  roieal  fede, 

Upon  whofe   countenance  rodde  healthe  was 

fpreade ; 

Bloufhing,  alyehe  30  thsfcarlette  of  herr  wede, 
She  fonke  to  pleafaunce  on  the  marryage  bedde. 
Eftfoons  her  peacefull  joie  of  mjnde  was  fledde ; 
Elftrid  ametten  with  the  kynge  Locryne  ; 
Unnombered  beauties  were  upon  her  fhedde, 
Moche  fyne,  moche  fayrer  thanne  was  Gendo 
lyne; 

The  mornynge  tynge,  the  rofe,  the  lillie  floure 
In  ever  ronneynge  race  on  her  dyd  peyfccte  theyre 
powere. 

The  gentle  fuyte  of  Locryne  gayned  her  love  . 
Theie  ly  ved  foft  moments  to  a  fwotic  3  i  age ; 
Eft  32  wandrings  yn  the  coppyce,  delle,  and 

grove, 

Where  ne  one  eyne  mote  theyre  difporte  engage; 
There    dydde    theie   fell   the   merrie  lovynge 

fa£e33»  [headde; 

Croppe  the  prymrofen  floure  to  decke  theyre 
The  feerie  Gendolyne  yn  woman  rage 
Gemoted  34  warriours  to  bewrecke  3  5  her  bedde : 
Theie  rofe ;   yhne  battle  was  greete  Locryne 

fleene ;  •  [queene. 

The  faire  Elftrida  fledde  from  the  enchafed  36 

A  tye  of  love,  a  dawter  fayre  {he  hanne, 
Whofe  boddeynge  morneyng  fhewed  a  fayre 

daie, 

Her  fadre  Locrynne,'  once  an  hailie  manne. 
Wyth  the  fayre  dawterre  dydde  fhe  hafte  awaie, 
To  where  the  weftern  mittee  37  pyles  of  claie 
Arife  ynto  the  cloudes,  and  doe  them  beere : 
There  dyd  Elftrida  and  S?.bryna  flaie  ; 
The  fyrfte  tryckde  out  a  whyle  yn  warry'ours 

gratch  38  and  gear  ; 

Vyncente  was  fhe  ycleped,  butte  fulle  foorie  fate 
Sente  deathe,  tp  tell  the  dame  fhe  was  notte  yn 

regrate  39. 

The  queene  Gendolyne  fente  a  gyaunte  knyghte, 
Whofe   doughtie   heade   fwepte    the    emmert- 

leynge  40  fkies. 

To  flea  her  wherefoever  fhe  fhuldebc  pyghte4i, 
Eke  everychone  who  fhulde  her  ele  42  em- 
prize  43.  [flies, 
Swefte  as  the  roareynge  wyndes  the  gyaunte 
Stayde  the  Icude  wyndes,  and  fliaded  reaulmes 

yn  nyghte, 

Stepte  over  cytties,  on  meint  44  acres  lies, 
Mecteynge  the    herehaughtes    of   morncyno-e 
lighte ; 


27  A  princely  robe.  28  defeated.  29  warring. 
30  like.  3ifvveet.  32  oft.  33  a  tale.  34  affem- 
bled.  35  revenge.  36  heated,  enraged.  37  migh 
ty.  18  apparel.  39  efteem,  favour.  40  glittering 
41  fettled.  43  help.  43  adventure.  44  many. 


0F   CPlATTERTON. 

Tyll  mooveynge  to  the  wefte,  myfchaunce  fiyt 

gye  45,  [cfp'ie. 

He   thorowe  warriours  gratch  fayre  Elftrid  did 

He  tore  a  ragged  mountayne  from  the  grounde 
Harried  46  uppe  noddynge  forrefts  to  the  Ikie, 
Thanne  wythe  a  fuire  mote  the  erthe  aftoundC47, 
To  meddle  ayre  he  lette  the  mountayne  flie. 
The  flying  wolfynnes  fente  a  yelleynge  crie  ; 
Onne  Vyncente  and  Sabryna  fclle  the  mount ; 
To  iyve  xternalle  dyd  theie  eftfoones  die  ; 
Thorowe  the  fandie  grave  boiled  up  the  pourple 

founte, 

On  a  broade  graffie  playne  was  layde  the  hylle, 
Staieynge  the  rounynge  courfe  of  rneint  a  lim- 

med  48  rylle. 

The  goddes,  who  kenned  the  adlyons  of  the 

wyghte, 

To  leggen  49  the  fadde  happe  of  twayne  fo  fayre, 
Houton  50  dyd  make  the  mountaine  bie  theirc 

mighte. 

Forth  from  Sabryna  ran  a  ryverre  cleere, 
Roarynge   and   rolleynge    on   yn    courfe    byf- 

mare  51  ; 

From  female  Vyncente  fhotte  a  ridge  of  ftones, 
Eerie  fyde  the  ryver  ryfynge  heavenwere; 
Sabrynas  floode  was  hclde  ynne  Elftryds  bones. 
So  are  theie  cleped  ;  gentle  and  the  hynde 
Can  telle,  that  Severnes  ftreeme  bie  VyrxentCi 

rocke's  ywrynde  52. 

The  bawfyn  53  gyaunt,  he  who  dyd  them,  flee, 
To  tell  Gendolyne  quycklie  was  yfped  54 ; 
Whanne,  as  he  flrod  alonge  the  fliakeynge  lee, 
The  roddie  levynne  55  glefterrd  on  hys  headde; 
Into  hys  hearte  the  azure  vapoures  fpreade; 
Hewrythdearoundeyn  drearie  dernie56  payne; 
Whanne  from  his  lyfe-bloode  the  rodde  lemes  57 

were  fed, 

He  ftlle  an  hepe  of  afhes  on  the  playne : 
Sty  lie  does  hys  aflies  fhoote  ynto  the  lighte, 
A  wondrous  mountayne  hie,  and  Snowdon  ys  ytte 
hyghte. 

AN  EXCELENTB  BALADE  OF  CHARITE : 
As  ivrotin  bie  ibe gode  Priefle  "Thomas  Roivley  I, 

1464. 

In  Virgyne  the  fvveltrie  fun  gan  fheene, 
And  hotte  Opon  the  mees  2  did  cafte  his  raJe ; 
The  apple  rodded  3  from  its  palie  greene, 
And  the  mole  4  peare  didbende  the  leafy  fpraie, 
The  peede  chelandri  5  funge  the  livelong  daie ; 
'Twasnowe  the  pride,  the  manhode  of  the  yeare, 

And  eke  the  grounde  was  dfghte  6  in  its  mofe  defte 
7  aumeree  8- 

45  Guide.  46  toft.  47  aftonifh.  48  glafiy,  rc- 
fle<9;ing.  49  leffen,  alloy.  50  hollow.  51  bewil 
dered,  curious.  52  hid,  covered.  53  huge,  bulky. 
54  difpatched.  55  red  lightning,  56  cruel.  57 
flanles,  rays. — i  Thomas  Rowley,  the  author,  was 
born  at  Norton  Mal-rcward  in  Somerfetfhire,  edu 
cated  at  the  convent  of  St.  Kenna  at  Kynefham, 
and  died  at  "Weftbury  in  Gloucefterfhire.  a  meads. 
3  reddened,  ripened.  4  foft.  5  pied  goldfinch.  6 
(ireft,  arrayed.  7  neat, 'ornamental.  8  a  loofe  rcbe 
or  niaiitlc. 


P    0    E 

Tae  fun  was  g}emein  g  in  the  middle  of  daie, 
Deadde  flill  the  aire,  and  eke  the  welken  9  blue, 
When  from  the  fea  arid  10  in  drcare  arraie 
A  hepe  of  cloudes  of  fable  fullen  hue, 
The  which  full  faft  unto  the  woodlande  drewe, 
Hiltring  n  attenes  iz  the  funnis  fetive  13  face, 
And  the  blacke  tempefte  fwolne  and  gatherd  up 
apace. 

Beneathe  an  holme,  fafte  by  a  pathwaie  fide,' 
Which  dide  unto  Seyndte  Godwine's  covente  14 

lede, 

A  haplefs  pilgrim  moneynge  did  abide, 
Pore  in  his  viewe,  ungentle  15  in  his  weede, 
Longe  bretful  16  of  the  miferies  of  neede, 
Where  from  the  hailftone  coulde  the  aimer  15 

flie? 
He  had  no  houfen  theere,  nc  anie  covent  nie. 

Look  in  his  glommed  18  face,  his  fprighte  there 

fcanne ;  [deade ! 

Howe  woe-be-gone,  how  withered,  forwynd  19., 
Hafte  to  thie  church-glebe-houfe  20  afshrewed 

21 manne ! 
Hafte  to  thie  kifle  22,  thie  onlie  dortoure  23 

bedde, 

Gale,  as  the  claie  which  will  gre  on  thie  hcdde, 
Is  charitie  and  love  aminge  highe  elves  ; 
Kuightis  and  barons  live  for  pleafure  and  them- 

felves. 

The  gatherd  florme  is  rype ;  the  bigge  drops  fallc ; 
The  forfwat  24meado\vesfmcthe  25,anddreuche 

a6  the  raine ; 

The  comyng  ghaftnefs  do  the  cattle  pall  27, 
And  the  full  fiockes  are  drivyngeore  the  plaine; 
Dafhde  from  the  cloudes  the  waters  flotte  18 

againe ; 

The  welkin  opes ;  ,the  yellow  levynne  29  flies; 
And  the  hot  fierie  fmothe  30  in  the  wide  lowings 

31  dies. 

J.ifte ;  now  the  thunder's  rattling  clymmynge 

32  found 

Shevts33flowlieon,andthen  embollen34  clangs, 
Shakes   the   high   fpyre,   and   lofft,  difpended, 

drown'd, 


9  The  fky,  the  atmofphere.  10  arofe.  II  hid 
ing,  fhrouding.  12  at  once.  13  beauteous.  14 
It  would  have  been  charitable,  if  the  author  had 
not  pointed  at  perfonal  characters  in  this  Ballad  of 
Charity.  The  abbot  of  St.  Godwin's  at  the  time 
of  writing  of  this  was  Ralphe  de  Bellomont,  a  great 
ftickkr  for  the  Lancaftrian  family.  Rowley  was 
a  Yorkift.  15  beggaily.  16  filled  with.  17  beg 
gar.  18  clouded,  dejected.  A  perfon  of  fome  note 
in  the  literary  world  is  of  opinion,  that  glum  and 
gtem  are  modern  cant  words ;  and  from  this  cir- 
cumftance  doubts  the  authenticity  of  Rowley 'sma- 
nufcripts,  GLim-mong,  in  the  Saxon  fignifies  twi 
light,  a  dark  or  dubious  light ;  and  thj  modern 
word  gloomy  is  derived  from  the  Saxon  glum.  19 
dry,  faplefs.  20  the  grave.  21  accurfed,  unfor 
tunate.  22  coffin.  23  a  fleeping  room.  24  fun- 
burnt.  2J  fmoke.  :  6  cloud.  27  pall,  a  contrac 
tion  from  appall,  to  fright.  28  fly.  29  lightning. 
30  fteani  or  vapours.  31  flames.  32  noify.  33 
moves.  34  fwelled,  ftrcngtheced. 


M    S.  .  4jy 

Still  on  the  gallard  35  eare  of  terrourc  hanges ; 
1  he  winds  are  up  ;  the  lofty  elmen  fwanges; 
Again  the  Icvynne  and  the  thunder  poures, 
And  the  full  cloudes  are  brafte  36  attenes  in  ftoncn 
(bowers. 

A 

Spurreynge  his  palfrie  oere  tha  watrie  plaine, 
The  abbotte  of  Seyndte  God  wines  convente  came 
His  chapournette  37  was  drented  with  the  reine, 
And  hispcncte  38  gyrdle  metwith  mickle  fhame; 
He  aynewarde  tolde  his  bederoll.^  at  the  fame ; 
The  ftorme  encreafen,  and  he  drew  afide, 
With  the  mift  40  almes  craver  ncere  to  the  holme 
to  bide. 

His  cope  41  was  all  of  Lyncolne  clothe  fo  fync, 
With  a  gold  button  faften'd  neere  his  chynne  ; 
His  autreraete  42  was  edged  with  goldeq  twynne, 
And  his  fhoone  pyke  a  lovcrds  41  mighte  have 

binne ; 

Full  well  it  fhcwn  he  thoughten  cofte  no  finnc  : 
•The  trammels  of  the  palfrye  pleafde  his  fighte, 
For  the  horfe  millanare  44  his  head  with  roles 

dighte. 

An  almes,  fir  prieftc !  the  droppynge  pilgrint 

faide, 

O  let  me  waite  within  your  covente  dore, 
Tille  the  funne  fhencth  hie  above  our  heade, 
And  the  loude  tempefle  of  die  aire  is  oer; 
Helplefs  and  ould  am  I  alafs '.  and  poor ; 
No  houfe,  ne  friend,  ne  nioneie  in  my  pouche  ! 
All  yatte  I  call  my  owne  is  this  my  illvcr  crouche. 

Varlet,  reply'd  the  abbattc,  ceafe  your  dinne ; 
This  is  no  feafon  almes  and  prayers  to  give  ; 
Mie  porter  never  lets  a  faiet  our  45  in  ; 
None  louche  mie  rynge  who  not  in  honour  live. 
And  now  the  fonne  with  the  blacke  cloudes  did 

ftryve, 

And  fhettynge  on  the  grounde  his  glairie  raie, 
The  abbatte  Ipurrde  hisfteede,  and  eftioonesroadde 

awaie. 
Once  moe  the  fkie  was  blacke,  the  thounder 

rolde ; 

Fafte  reyneynge  oer  the  plaine  a  priefte  was  feen; 
Ne  dighte  full  proude,  ne  buttoned  up  in  golde  ; 
His  cope  and  jape  45  were  graie,  and  eke  were 

clene ; 

A  Limitoure  he  was  of  order  feene  ; 
And  from  the  pathwaie  fide  then  turned  hee, 
Where  the  pore  aimer  laie  binethe  the  holmcn 

tree. 

An  almes,  fir  priefl !  the  droppynge  pilgrim 

faydc, 

For  Sweet  Seynfie  Marie  and  your  order  fake. 
The  limitoure  then  loofeii'd  his  pouche  threads, 


35* Frighted.  36  burft.  37  a  fmall  round  hat, 
not  unlike  the  fhapoumette  in  heraldry,  formerly 
worn  by  ecclefiaftics  and  lawyers.  38  painted.  39 
he  told  his  beads  backwards;  a  figurative  exprel- 
fion  to  fignify  curfing.  40  poor,  needy.  41  a  clokc. 
42  a  loofe  white  robe  worn  by  pricfts.  43  a 
lord,  44  1  believe  this  trade  is  ftill  in  being,  though 
but  feldom  employed.  45  a  beggar  or  vagabond. 
46  a  fhort  furplicc,  worn  by  friars  of  an  inttrisr 
claf*.  and  fecular  priefts. 
Ziij 


THE   WORKS    OF   CHATTERTON, 


And  did  thereoute  a  groate  of  filver  take ; 
The  miller  pilgrim  dyd  for  halline  47  {hake. 
Here  takr  this  filver,  it  maie  eathe  48  thie  care; 
We  are  Goddes  ftcwards  all,  pete  49  of  oure  owne 
we  bare. 

But  ah'  unhailie  50  pilgrim,  lerne  of  me, 
Scathe  anie  give  a  rentrolle  tq  their  Lorde, 
Here  take  my  femccope  51,  thou  art  bare  I  fee ; 
Tii,  thyne ;  the  feyn&es  will  give  me  mie  re- 

warde. 

He  left  the  pilgrim,  and  his  waie  aborde. 
Virgynne    and    hallie    feyn&e,  who    fitte  yn 

gloure  52,  [p»wcr. 

Or  give  the  mittee  53  will,  or  give  the  gode  man 

BATTLE  OF  HASTINGS. 
No.  I. 

O  CRRYSTE,  it  is  a  grief  for  me  to  telle, 
How  manie  a  noble  erle  and  valrous  knyghte 
In  fyghtynge  for  Kynge  Harrold  noblie  fell, 
Al  fleynge  in  Haftyngs  feeld  in  bloudie  fyghte, 
O  fea-o'erteeming  Dover !  han  thy  floude, 
Hnn  anie  frucliuousemendement,  [bloude, 

Thou  wouldft  have  rofe  and  fank  wyth  tydes  of 
Before  Duke  Wyllyam's  knyghts  han  hither  went ; 
Whofecowart  arrows  manie  erlesfleyne, 
And  brued  the  feeld  wythe   bloude  a>  feafon 
rayne.  Io 

Arid  of  his  knyghtes  did  eke  full  manie  die, 
All  paffyng  hie,  of  mickle  myghte  echone, 
Whofe  poygnante  arrowes,  typp'd  with  deftynie, 
Caus'd  many  wydowes  to  make  myckle  mone. 
Lordynges,  avaunt,  that  chycken-harted  are, 
From  pure  of  hearynge  quicklie  now  departe  ; 
Full  well  I  wote,  to  fynge  of  bloudie  warre 
Will  greeve  your  t'nderlie  and  mayden  harte. 
Go  do  the  weaklie  womman  inn  man's  geare, 
And  fcond  your  manfion  if  grymm  war  come 
there.  so 

Soone  as  the  erlie  maten  belle  was  tolde, 
And  fonne  was  come  to  byd  us  all  good  dale, 
Both  armies  on  the  feeld,  both  brave  and  bolde,    . 
Prepar'd  for  fyghte  in  champyon  arniie. 
As  when  two  bulks,  deftynde  for  Hocktidc  fyghte 
Are  yoked  bie  the  necke  with'n  a  fparre, 
Theie  rend  the  erthe,  and  travellers  affryghtc, 
Lackynge  to  gage  the  fportive  bloudie  warre  ;  ^8 
Soe  lacked  Harroldes  menne  to  come  to  blowes, 
The  Normans  lacked  for  to  wielde  their  bow es. 

Kyngc  Harrolde  turnynge  to  his  leegerr,en  fpake; 
My  merriemen,  be  not  cafte  downe  in  mynde  ; 
Ycur  onlie  lode  for  ay  to  mar  or  make, 
Before  yon  funne  has  donde  his  welke  you'll  fyndt 
Your  lovyng  wife,  who  eift  dyd  lidthe  londe 
Of  Lurdanes,  and  the  treafure  that  you  han, 
Wyll  falle  into  the  Normanne  robber's  honde, 
Vlnleffc  wyth  honde  and  harte  you  plaie  the  manne. 

Che.r    up    your   hartes,     chafe    ibrrow    farre 
awaie, 

Godde  and  Seyn&e  Cuthbert  be  the  wprde  to 
daie.  4° 


47  Joy.    48  cafe.    49  nought.    50  unhappy.   5  i 
a  fiiort  under-clqke.    52  glory-     53  mighty,  rich 


And  thenne  Duke  Wyllyam  to  his   kn-ghtes  did 

faie; 

My  merrie  menne,  be  bravelie  everiche  ; 
Gif  I  do  gayn  the  honore  of  the  daie, 
Ech  one  of  you  I  will  make  myckle  riche. 
Beer  you  in  mynde,  we  for  a  kyngdomm  fyghte  ; 
Lord/hippes  and  honorcs  echone  fhall  poffefre; 
Be  this  the  worde  to  daie,  God  and  my  ryghte  ; 
No  doubte  but  God  Wylle  our  true  caufe  bleffc. 

The  clarions  then  founded  fharpe  and  fhrille; 

Deathdoeynge  blades  were  out  intent  tokille.  50 

And  brave  Kyng  Harrolde  had  now  donde  hys 
faie ;  [fpeaf, 

He  threw  wythe  myghte  amayne  hys  fhorte  horfe- 
The  noife  it  made  the  duke  to  turn  awaie, 
And  hytt  his  knyghte,  de  Eeque>  upon  the  ear. 
His  criftede  beaver  dyd  him  fmalle  aboundc  ; 
The  cruel  fpeare  went  thorough  all  his  hedc  ; 
The  purpel  blonde  came  goufhynge  to  the  grounde, 
And  at  Duke  Wyllyam's  feet  he  tumbled  deade  : 
So  fell  the  myghtie  tower  of  Standrip,  whennt 
It  felte  the  furie  of  the  Danifh  menne.  60 

O  AfHcm,  foil  of  Cuthbert,  holie  fayndle,  [payne; 
Come  ayde  thy  freend,  and  fhewe  Duke  Wyllyams 
Take  tip  thy  pencyl,  all  his  features  pain&e ; 
Thy  colorynge  excells  a  fyngcr  flrayne. 
Duke  Wyllyam  fawe  hys  freende  fleyne  piteouflie, 
His  lovynge  freende  whom  he  much  honored, 
For  he  han  lovd  hym  from  puerilitie, 
And  theie  together  boths  han  bin  ybred  : 

O  !  in  Duke  Wyllyam's  harte  it  rayfde  a  flame, 
To  whiche  the  rage  of  emptie  wolves  is  tame.  70 

He  tooke  a  brafen  croffe-bawe  in  his  honde, 
And  drewe  it  harde  with  all  hys  myghte  aniein, 
Ne  doubtyng  but  the  braveft  in  the  londe 
Han  by  his  foundynge  errowe-lede  bene  Ceyne. 
Alured's  flede,  the  fyneft  ftede  alyve, 
Bye  comelie  forme  knowlached  from  the  reft  ; 
But  nowe  hys  deftin'd  howre  dyd  aryve, 
The  arrowe  hyt  uponne  his  milkwite  brefle  : 
So  have  1  feen  a  ladie-fmoke  foe  white, 
Blown  in  the  mornynge,  and  mowd  downe  at 
night.  80 

With  thillc  a  force  it  dyd  his  bodie  gore, 
That  in  his  tender  guttes  it  entered, 
In  veritee  a  fulle  clothe  yarde  or  more, 
And  downe  with  flaiten  noyfe  he  fvinken  dede. 
Brave  Alured,  benethe  his  faithfull  horfe, 
Was  fmeerd  all  over  withe  the  gorie  dufle, 
And  on  hym  laie  the  rccer's  lukewarme  corfe, 
That  Alured  coulde  not  hymfelf  alufte. 

The  ftandyng  Normans  drew  their  bov.'e  echone, 

And    broght  full    manie   Englyfh   champyons 

downe.  90 

The  Normans  kept  aloofe,  at  diftaunce  ftylle, 
The  Englyfh  nete  but  fhorte  horfe-fpears  could 

welde ; 

The  Englylh  manie  dethe  fure  dartes  did  kille, 
And  manie  arrowes  twang'd  upon  the  fheelde. 
Kynge  Haroldes  knyghts  defir'de  for  hendieftroke, 
And  marched  furious  o'er  the  bloudie  pleyne, 
In  bodie  clofe,  and  made  the  pleyne  to  fmoke ; 
Theirs  fheelds  rebounded  arrowes  back  agayne, 
The  Normans  flood  aloofe,  nor  hede  the  fame, 
Their  arrowes  woulde  do  dethe,  though  fronx 
far  of  they  cam^.  100 


P ,  O    E    M    S. 


Duke  Wyllyam  drewe  agen  hys  arrovve  (Irynge, 
An  arrowe  withe  a  fylver-hede  drewe  he, 
The  arrowe  dauncynge  in  the  ayre  dyd  fynge, 
And  hytt  the  horfe  Joffelyn  on  the  knee. 
At  this  brave  Joffelyn  threwe  his   fhort   horfe- 

fpeare ; 

Duke  Wyllyam  (looped  to  avoyde  the  blowe  ; 
The  yrone  weapon  hummed  in  his  eare, 
And  hitte  Sir  Doullie  Naibor  on  the  prowe : 
Upon  hishelme  foe  furious  was  the  ftroke, 
It  fplete  his  bever,  and  the  ryvets  broke.       no 

Downe  fell  the  beaver  by  Jaffclyn  fplete  in  tweine, 
And  onn  his  hede  expos'da  punie  wounde, 
But  on  Deftoutvilles  {holder  came  ameine, 
And  fell'd  the  champyon  to  the  bloudie  grounde. 
Then  Doullie  myghte  his  boweftrynge  drewe, 
Enthoughte    to    gyve    brave     Joflelyn    bloudie 

wounde, 

But  Harolde's  afenglave  (lopp'd  it  as  it  flewe, 
And  it  fell  bootlefs  on  the  bloudie  grounde. 

Siere  Doullie,  when  he  fawe  hys  venge  thus 
broke,  1 19 

Death-doynge  blade  from  out  the  icabard  toke. 

And  now  the  battail  clofde  on  everych  fyde, 
And  face  to  face  appeard  the  knyghts  full  brave  ; 
They  lifted  up  tlieire  bylles  with  myckle  pryde, 
And  manie  woundes  unto  the  Normans  gave. 
So  have  I  fene  two  weirs  at  once  give  grounde, 
White  fomyng  hygh  to  roryngc  combat  ruhne ; 
Jn  roaryng  dyn  and  heaven-breaking  fouude, 
Burfle  waves  on  waves,  and  fpangle  in  the  funne  ; 

And  when  their  myghte  in  burflynge  waves  is 
fled, 

Like  cowards,  ftele  alonge  their  ozy  bede.    130 

Yong  Egclrede,  a  knyghte  of  comelie  mien, 

Affynd  unto  the  kynge  of  Dynefarre, 

At  echone  tylte  and  tourney  he  was  feene, 

And  lov'd  to  be  amonge  the  bloudie  warre ; 

He  couch'd  hys  launce,  and  ran  wyth  mickle 

myghte 

Ageinfte  the  breft  of  Sieur  de  Bonoboe  ; 
He  grond  and  funken  on  the  place  of  fyghte, 
O  Chryfte  !  to  fele  his  wounde,  his  harte  was  woe. 
Ten   thoufand   thoughtes   pufh'd   in    upen  his 

mynde,  139 

Not  for  hymfelfe,  but  thofc  he  left  behynde. 

He  dy'd  and  leffed  wyfe  and  chyldren  tweine, 
Whom  he  wyth  cheryfhment  did  dearlie  love ; 
In  Englande's  court,  in  good  Kynge  Edwarde's 

regne, 

He  wonne  the  tylte,  and  ware  her  crymfon  glove ; 
And  thence  unto  the  place  where  he  was  borne, 
Together  with  hys  welthe  and  better  wyfe, 
To  Normandie  he  dyd  perdie  returne, 
In  peace  and  quietneffe  to  lead  hys  lyfe ; 
And  now  with  fovrayn  Wyllyam  he  came, 
To  die  in  battel,  or  get  welthe  and  fame.      1 50 

Then,  fwefte  as  lyghtnynge,  Egelredus  fet 
Agaynft  du  Barlie  of  the  mounten  head  ! 
In  his  dere  hartesbloude  his  longe  launce  was  wett, 
And  from  hiscourfer  down  he  tumbled  dede. 
So  have  I  fene  a  mountayne  oak,  that  longe 
Has  cafte  hys  fhadowe  to  the  mountayne  fyde, 
Brave  all  the  wyndes,  though  ever  they  fo  ftronge, 
And  view  the  briers  belowe  with  felf-taught  pride; 


359 


But,  whan  throwne  downe  by  mightie  thunder 
He'de  rather  bee  a  bryer  than  an  oke.    [ftroke, 
Then  Egelred  dyd  in  a  declynie  161 

Hys  launce  uprere  with  all  hys  myghte  ameinc, 
And  ftrok  Fitzport  upon  the  dexter  eye, 
And  at  his  pole  the  fpear  came  out  agayne. 
Butt  as  he  drewe  it  iorthe,  an  arrowe  fledde 
Wyth  mickle  myght  fent  from  de  Tracy's  bowe, 
And  at  hysfyde  the-  arrowe  entered, 
And  oute  the  crymfon  (Ireme  of  bloude  gan  flowe  ; 
In  purple  ftrekes  it  dyd  his  armer  ftaine, 
And  fmok'd  in  puddles  on  the  duflie  plaine.  170 

But  Egelred,  before  he  funken  downe, 
With  all  hys  myghte  amein  his  fpear  bcfped, 
Ithytte  Betrammil  Mamie  upon  the  crowns, 
And  bothe  together  quicklie  funken  dede. 
So  have  I  fcen  a  rpcke  o'er  others  hange, 
Who  (Ironglie  plac'd  laughde  at  his  flippry  (late, 
But  when  he  falls  with  heaven-peercynge  bange 
That  he  the  fkeve  unravels  all  their  fate, 
And  broken  onn  the  beech  thys  leflbn  (peak, 
The  (Ironge  and  firme  fnould  not  defame  the 
weake.  180 

Howel  ap  Jevah  came  from  Matraval, 
Where  he  by  chaunce  han  flayne  a  noble's  fon, 
And  now  was  come  to  fyghte  at  Kareld's  call, 
And  in  the  battel  he  much  goodc  han  done ; 
Unto  Kyng  Harold  he  fought  mickle  near, 
For  he  was  yeoman  of  the  bodie  guard ; 
And  with  a  targyt  and  a  fyghtyng  fpear, 
He  of  his  boddie  han  kepte  watch  and  ward : 
True  as  a  fhadowe  to  a  fubftant  thynge, 
So  true  he  guarded  Harold  hys  good  kynge.  190 

But  when  Egelred  tumbled  to  the  grounde, 
He  from  Kyng  Harolde  quicklie  dyd  advaunce, 
And  ftroke  de  Tracie  thilk  a  crewel  wounde, 
Hys  harte  and  Jever  came  out  on  the  launce. 
And  then  retreted  for  to  guarde  hys  kynge, 
On  dented  launce  he  bore  the  harte  awaie ; 
An  arrowe  came  from  Auffroie  Oriel's  flrynge, 
Into  hys  heele  betwyxt  hys  yron  ftaie  ; 

The  grey-goofe  pynion,  that  thereon  was  Celt, 
Eftfoons  with  fmokyng   crymfon    blond    wa* 
wett.  30° 

His  bloude  at  this  was  waxen  flaminge  hotte, 
Without  adoe  he  turned  once  agayne, 
And  hytt  de  Griel  thilke  a  blowe,  God  vvote, 
Maugre  hys  helme,  he  fplete  hys  hede  in  twaync. 
This  Affroie  was  a  manne  of  mickle  pryde, 
Whof<i  featlieft  bewty  ladden  in  his  face ; 
His  chaunce  in  warr  he  ne  before  han  trydc, 
But  lyv'd  in  love  and  Rofaline's  embrace; 
And  like  a  ufelefs  weede  amonge  the  haie 
Amonge  the  fleine  warriours  Griel  laie.        iio 
Kynge  Harolde  then  he  putt  his  yeomen  bie, 
And  ferflie  ryd  into  the  bloudie  fyghte  ; 
Erie  Ethelwolf,  and  Goodrick,  and  Alfie, 
Cuthbert.and  Goddard,  mical  menne  of  myghtc, 
Ethelwin,  Ethelbert,  and  Egwin  too, 
Effred  the  famous,  and  Erie  Ethelwarde, 
Kynge  Harolde's  leegcmenn,  erlies  hie  and  true, 
Rode  after  hym,  his  bodie  for  to  guarde : 
The  rede  of  erlies,  fyghtynge  other  where*, 
Stained  with  Norman  bloude  their  fyghtynge 
fperes.  "* 

Z  iij 


THE  WORKS   OF   CHATTERTON. 


As  when  fome  ryvcr  with  the  feafon  rayncs 
"White  fomynge  hie  doth  hrekc  the  bridges  oft, 
Oerturns  the  hamelet  and  all  conteins, 
And  layeth  oer  the  hylls  a  muddie  foft; 
So  Harold  ranne  upon  his  Normanne  foes, 
And  layde  the  great  and  fmall  upon  the  grounde, 
And  delte  among  them  thilke  a  ftore  of  blowes, 
1'ull  manic  a  Normanne  fell  by  him  dede  wounde ; 
So  who  he  be  that  ouphant  fairies  ftrike,       229 
Their  foules  will  wander  to  Kyng  Offa's  dyke. 

FitzSalnarville, Duke  William's  favourite  knyghte, 

To  noble  Edelwarde  his  lyfe  dyd  yielde ; 

"Withe  hys  tylte  launcc  hec  ftroke  with   thilk  a 
myghte, 

The  Norman's  bowels  fteemdc  upon  the  feeld. 

Old  Salnarville  beheld  hys  fon  lie  ded, 

Againft  Erie  Edelwarde  hys  bowe-ftrynge  drev,re  ; 

But  Harold  at  one  blowe  made  twcine  his  head  ; 

He  dy'd  before  the  poignant  arrowe  flew. 
So  was  the  hope  of  all  the  ifiue  gone, 
And  in  one  battle  fell  the  fire  and  fon.  240 

De  Aubignce  rod  fercely  through  the  fyghtc, 

To  where  the  boddie  of  Salnarville  laie  ; 

Quod  he ;  And  art  thou  ded,  thou   manne  of 

myghte  ? 

I'}1  be  revenged,  or  die  for  thee  this  daie. 
Die  then  thou  fhalt,  Erie  Ethelwarde  he  faid  ; 
I  am  a  cunnynge  erle,  arfd  that  can  tell;       [hede, 
Then  drewe  hys  fwerde,  and   ghaftlie  cut  hys 
And  on  his  freend  eftfoons  he  lifelefs  fell, 

Stretch'd  on  the  bloudie  pleyne  ;   great   God 
forcfend, 

It  be  the  fate  of  no  fuch  truftie  freende  !       250 

Then  Egwen  Sieur  Pikeny  did  attaque ; 
He  turned  aboutc  and  vilely  fouten  flic ; 
But  Egwyn  cutt  fo  depe  into  his  backe., 
He  rolled  on  the  grounde  and  fooii"  dyd  die. 
His  diftant  fonr.a,  Sire  Romera  de  Biere, 
rioughte  to  revenge  his  fallen  kynffnan's  lote, 
5ut  foone  Erie  Cuthbert's  dented  fyghtyng  fpear 
Stucke  in  his  harte,  and  ftayd  his  fpced,  Got  wote, 
He  tumbled  downe  clofe  by  hys  kynfman's  fyde, 
Myngle  their  flremes  of  pourple  bloude,  and 
dy'd.  260 

And  now  an  arrowe  from  a  bowe  unwote 
Into  Erie  Cuthbert's  harte  eftfoons  dyd  flee; 
"Who  dying  fayd ;  ah  me  !  how  hard  my  lote, 
3*fow  flayne,  mayhap,  of  one  of  lowe  degree.  ' 
So  have  I  feen  a  leane  elm  of  yore 
Have  been  the  pride  and  glorie  of  the'p!ei»e ; 
But,  when  the  fpendyng  landlord  is  grownepoore, 
It  falls  benethe  the  axe  of  fome  rude  fweine  ; 
And  like  the  oke,  the  fovran  of  the  woode, 
It's  fallen  boddie  tells  you  how  it  ftoode.       270 

"When  Edelward  pcrceevd  Erie  Cuthbert  die, 
On  Hubert  ftrongeft  of  the  Nprmanhe  crewe, 
As  wolfs  when  hungred  on  the  cattel  flie, 
So  Edelward  amaine  upon  him  flewe. 
With  thilk  a  force  he  h'yt  hym  to  the  grounde ; 
Aiid  WAS  demafmg  howe  to  take  his  life, 
"When  he  behynde  received  a  ghaftlie  wounde 
Pyven  by  de  Torcie,  with  a  flabbyng  knyfe ; 

Bafe  trechcrous  Normannes,  if'fuch  aftes  you 
doe, 

The  conquer'd  nraie  clame  vidork  of  you.    280 


The  erlie  felt  de  Torcie' s  trecherous  knyfe 
Han  made  his  crymfon  bloude  and  fpirits  floe  ; 
And  knowiachyng  he  loon  muft  quyt  this  lyfe, 
Refolved  Hubert  fliould  too  with  hym  goe. 
He  held  hys  truftie  fwerd  againft  his  brcfte, 
And  down  he  fell,  and  peerc'd  him  to  the  harte ; 
And  both  together  then  did  take  their  refce, 
Their  foules  from  ccrpfes  unakeil'd  depart; 

And  both  together  foughte  the  unknown  fhore, 
Where  we  ihall  goe,  where  manie's  gon  be 
fore.  «        29« 

Kynge  Harolde  Torcie's  trechery  dyd  fpic, 
And  hie  alofe  his  temper'd  fwerde  dyd  welde, 
Cut  offe  his  arnie,  and  made  the  blonde  to  flie, 
His  proofe  fteel  armoure  did  him  littel  fheelde  ; 
And  not  contente,  he  fplete  his  hede  in  twaine, 
And  down  he  tumbled  on  the  bloudie  grounde  ; 
Meanwhile  the  other  erlies  on  the  playne 
Gave  and  received  manie  a  bloudie  wounde, 
Such  as  the  arts  in  warre  han  learnt  with  care, 
But   manie   knyghtes  were  women  in   men's 
geer.  30* 

Herrewald  borne  on  Sarim's  fpreddyng  plaine, 
Where  Thor's  fam'd  temple  manie  ages  ftoode  ; 
Where  druids,  auncient  precfts,  did  ryghtes  or- 

daine, 

And  in  the  middle  flied  the  viftyms  bloude ; 
Where  auncient  Bardi  dyd  their  verfes  fynge 
Of  Caefar  conquer'd,  and  his  mighty  hoftc, 
And  how  old  Tynyan,necromancing  kynge, 
Wreck'd  all  hys  fhyppyng  on  ijie  britifh  coaftc, 

And  made  hym  in  his  tatter'd  barks  to  tiie, 
•  'Till  Tynyan's  dethe  and  opportunity. 

To  make  it  more  rencmed  than  before, 

(I,  tho  a  Saxon,  yet  the  truthewill  telle) 

The  Saxonnes  fteynd  the  place  wytli  Britdfh  gore, 

Where  nete  but  bloud  of  facrifices  felle. 

Tho'  Chryftians,  flylle  they  thoughte  rnouche  of 

the  pile, 

And  here  theie  mett  when  caufes  dyd  it  neede  ; 
"Twas  here  the  ancient  elders  of  the  ifle 
Dyd  by  the  trcchtrie  of  Hengift  bleede ; 
_  O  Hengift  !  han  thy  caufe  bin  good  and  true, 
Thou  v.'ouldft  fuch  murdrous  aifts  as  thefe  ef- 

chew.  3  i» 

The  crlie  was  a  manne  of  hie  degree, 
And  han  that  daie  full  manic  Normannes  fleine ; 
Three  Norman  champyons  of  hie  degree 
He  left  to  fmoke  upon  the  bloudie  pleine  :  ' 
The  Sier  Fitzbotevilleine  did  then  advaunce, 
And  with  his  bowe  he  fmote  the  erlies  hede ; 
Who  eftfoons  gored  hym  with  his  tylting  laur.ce, 
And  at  his  horfes  feet  he  tumbled  dede : 
His  partyng  fpirit  hovered  o'er  the  floude 
Of  foddayne  roufhynge  mouch  lov'd  pourple 
bloude.  33^ 

PC  Vipoute  then,  a  fquier  of  low  degree,    ' 
An  arrowe  drewe  with  all  his  myghte  ameine ; 
The  arrowe  graz'd  upon  the  erlies  knee, 
A  punie  wounde,  that  caufd  but  littel  peine. 
3e  have  1  feene  a  dolthead  place  a  ftonc, 
Enthoghte  to  ftaie  a  driving  rivers  courfe  ; 
But  better  han  it  bin  to  lett  alone, 
It  onlie  drives  it  on  with  mickle  force  ; 
The  erlie,  wounded  by  fo  bafe  a  hynde, 
Ray  s'-J  furyous  doyngs  in  his  noble  mynde.    343 


POEMS. 


The  Siere  Chatillion,  yorsger  of  that  name, 

Advaunced  next  before  the  erlie's  fygluc  ; 

His  fader  was  a  manne  of  mickle  fame, 

And  he  renomde  and  valorous  in  fyghte. 

Chatillion  his  triftie  i'werd  forth  flrewe, 

The    crle  ^drawes   his,   menne  bothe  of  mickle 

myghte ; 

And  at  eche  other  vengouflie  they  flewe, 
As  maftie  dogs  at  Hocktide  fet  to  fyghte  ; 

Bothe  fcornd  to  yeelde,  and  both  abhor'de  to 
fiie, 

Refolv'd  to  vanquifhe,  or  refolv'd  to  die.      350 

Chatillion  hyt  the  erlie  on  the  hede, 
Thatt  fplytte  eftfoons  his  crifted  helm  in  twayne  ; 
Whiche  he  perforce  withe  target  covered, 
And  to  the  battel  went  with  myghte  ameine. 
The  erlie  hytte  Chatillion  thilke  a  blowe 
Upon  his  brefte,  his  harte  was  plein  to  fee  ; 
He  tumbled  at  the  horfes  feet  alfoe, 
And  in  dethe  panges  he  feez'd  the  recer's  knee : 
Fafte  as  the  ivy  rounde  the  oke  doth  clymbe, 
So  fade  he  dying  gryp'd  the  recer's  lymbe.jdo 

The  recer  then  beganne  to  flynge  and  kicke, 
And  tofte  the  erlie  farr  off  to  the  grounde  ; 
The  erlie's  fquier  then  a  fwerde  did  fticke 
Into  his  harte,  a  dedlie  ghaftlie  wounde  j 
And  downe  he  felle  upon  the  crymfon  pleine, 
Upon  Chatillion's  foullefs  code  of  claie ; 
A  puddlie  ftreme  of  bloude  flow'd  out  ameine; 
Strctch'd  out  at  length  befmer'd  with  gore  he  laie; 
As  fome  tall  oke  fell'd  from  the  greenie  plaine, 
To  live  a  fecond  time  upon  the  main.          370 

The  erlie  now  an  horfe  and  beaver  han, 
And  nowe  agayne  appered  on  the  feeld  ; 
And  manie  a  muckle  knyghte  and  mightie  manne 
To  his  dethe-doyng  fwerd  his  life  did  yecld  ; 
"When  Siere  de  Broque  an  arrowe  longe  left  flic, 
Intending  Herewaldus  to  have  fleyne; 
It  mifs'd  ;  butt  hytte  Edardus  on  the  eye, 
And  at  his  pole  came  out  with  horrid  payne. 
Edardus  felle  upon  the  bloudie  grounde,       379 
His  noble  foule  came  roufliyng  from  the  wounde. 

Thys  Herewald  perceevd,  and  full  of  ire 
He  on  the  Siere  de  Broque  with  furie  came ; 
Quod  he  :  Thou'ft  flaughtred  my  beloved  fquier, 
But  I  will  be  revenged  for  the  fame. 
Into  his  bowels  then  his  launce  he  thrufte, 
And  drew  thereout  a  fteemie  drerie  lode ; 
Quod  he :  Thefe  offals  are  for  ever  curft, 
Shall  ferve  the  coughs,  and  rooks,  and  dawes,  for 

foode. 

Then  on  the  pleine  the  fteemie  lode  hee  throwde, 

Smokynge  with  lyfe,  and  dy'd  with  crymfon 

bloude.  390 

Fitz  Broque,  who  faw  his  father  killen  lie, 

Ah  me  1  fayde  he,  what  woeful  fyghte  I  fee! 

But  now  I  muft  do  fomethyng  more  than  fighe ; 

And  then  an  arrowe  from  the  bowe  drew  he. 

Beneth  the  erlie's  navil  came  the  darte  ; 

Fitz  Broque  on  foote  han  drawne  it  from  the  bowe; 

And  upwards  went  into  the  erlie's  harte, 

And  out  the  crymfon  ftreme  cf  bloude 'gan  flowe. 

Asfromm  a  hatch,  drawne  with  a  vehement  geir, 

[\Vhite  rufhe  the    burftynge  wayes,    and    roar 

along  the  weir.  400 


The  erlewith  one  honde  grafp'J  the  recer's mayne, 
And  with  the  other  he  His  launce  befped ; 
And  then  felle  bleedyrtg  on  the  bloudie  plainr. 
His  launce  it  hytte  Fitz  Uroqtie  upon  the  hede  ; 
Upon  his  hede  it  made  a  wounde  full  fljghte, 
But  peerc'd  his  fhoulder,  ghaftlie  wounde  infcrne, 
Before  his  optics  daunced  a  (hade  of  nvghte, 
Whyche  foone  were  clofed  ynn  a  fleepe  eterne. 
The,  noble  erlie  than,  withoute  a  grone,       4051 
To6k  flyghte,  to  fynde  the  regyons  unknowne. 
Brave  Alured  from  binethe  his  noble  horfe, 
Was  gotten  on  his  leggs,  with  bloude  all  fruore ; 
And  now  eletten  on  another  horfe, 
Eftfoons  he  withe  his  launce  did  manie  gore. 
The  cowart  Norman  knyghtes  before  hym  fleddr, 
And  from  a  diftaunce  fent  their  arrowes  kcene  ; 
But  noe  fuch  deftinie  awaits  his  hedde, 
And  to  be  fleyen  by  a  wighte  Ib  meene. 

Tho  oft  the  oke  falls  by  the  vi lien's  fliock,  419 
'Tys  moe  than  hyndes  can  do,  to  move  the  rock. 

Upon  du  Chatclet  he  ferfelie  fett, 

And  peerc'd  his  bodie  with  a  force  full  grete; 

The  afenglave  of  his  tylt-launcc  was  wett, 

The  rollynge  bloude  alonge  the  launce  did  fleet. 

Advauncynge,  as  a  maftie  at  a  bull, 

He  rann  his  launce  into  Fitz  Warren's  harte ; 

From  Partaies  bowe,  a  wight  unmercifull, 

Within  his  owne  he  felt  a  cruel  darte  ; 

Clofe  by  the  Norman  champyons  he  han  fleine, 

He  fell ;  and  mixd  his  bloude  with  theirs  upon 

the  pleine/  430 

Erie  Ethelbert  then  hove,  with  clinie  juft, 
A  launce,  that  ftroke  Partaie  upon  the  thighe, 
And  pinn'd  him  downe  unto  the  gorie  duite; 
Cruel,  quod  he,  thou  ciuellie  /halt  die. 
With  that  his  launce  he  enterd  at  his  throte ; 
He  fcritch'd  and  fcreem'd  in  melancholic  mood ; 
And  at  his  backe  eftfoons  came  out,  God  wote, 
And  after  it  a  crymfon  ftreme  of  bloude : 
In  agonie  and  peine  he  there  dyd  lie, 
While  life  andtlethe  ftrove  for  the  mafterrie.44« 

He  gryped  hard  the  bloudie  murdring  launce, 
And  in  a  grone  he  left  this  mortel  lyfe. 
Behynde  the  erlie  Fifcampe  did  advaunce, 
Bethoghte  to  kill  him  with  a  ftabbynge  knife ; 
But  Jigwarde,  who  perceevd  his  fowie  intent, 
Eftfoons  his  truftie  fwerde  he  forthwyth  drewe, 
And  thilke  a  cruel  blowe  to  Fifcampe  fent, 
That  foule  and  bodie's  bloude  at  one  gate  r!ewe. 

Thilk  deeds  do  all  deferve,  whofe  deeds  fo  fowle 

Will  black  theire  earthlie  name,  if  not  their 
foule.  • 

When  lo  !  an  arrowe  from  Walleris  honde, 
Winged  with  fate  and  dethe,  daunced  alonge ; 
And  flewe  the  noble  flower  of  Powyflonde, 
Howel  ap  Jcvah,  who  ycleped  the  ttronge. 
Whan  he  the  firft  mifchaunce  received  han, 
With  horfemans  hafte  he  from  the  armie  rodde  ; 
And  did  repaire  untp  the  cunnynge  manne, 
Who  fange  a  charme,  that  dyd  it  mickle  goode : 

Then  praid  Seyncie  Cuthbert,   and  our  holia 
Dame, 

To  blefle  his  labour,  and  to  heal  the  fame.  46* 
Then  drewe  the  arrowe,  and  the  wounde  did  feck, 
And  putt  the  teint  of  holie  heroics  qp  j 


THE   WORKS    OF   CHATTER.TON. 


And  putt  a  rowe  of  bloude  ftones  round  his  neck  ; 
And  then  did  fay — go,  champyon,  get  agone. 
And  now  was  comynge  Harrolde  to  defend, 
And  metten  with  Walleris  cruel  darte  : 
His  fheelde  of  wolf-fkinn  did  him  not  attend, 
The  arrow  peerced  into  his  noble  harte  ; 

As  Ibme  tall  oke,  hewn  from  the  mountayne 
hed,  469 

Falls  to  the  pleine  ;  fo  fell  the  warriour  dede. 

His  countryman,  brave  Mervyn  ap  Teudor, 
Who  love  of  hym  han  from  his  country  gone, 
When  he  p? rceevd  his  friend  lie  in  his  gore, 
As  furious  as  a  mountayne  wolf  he  ranrie. 
As   ouphant   faieries,  whan   the  moone  fheenes 

bryghte, 

In  littel  circles  ilaunce  upon  the  greene, 
All  living  creatures  flic  far  from  their  fyghte, 
Ne  by  the  race  of  deftinie  be  feen  ; 

For  what  he  be  that  ouphant  faieries  ftryke, 
Their  foules  will  wander  to  Kyng  Offa'i  dyke. 

So  from  the  face  of  Mervyn  Tewdor  brave        48 1 
The  Normans  eftfoonsfled  awaie  aghafte; 
And  lefte  behynde  their  bowe  and  afenglave, 
For  fear  of  hym,  in  thilk  acowart  hafte. 
His  garb  fufficient  were  to  move  affryghte  ; 
A  wolf  (kin  girded  round  hys  myddle  was ; 
A  bear  flcyn,  from  Norwegians  wan  in  fyghte, 
Was  tytend  round  his  moulders  by  the  claws: 
So  Hercules,  'tis  funge,  much  like  to  him, 
Upon  his  (holder  wore  a  lyon's  (kin.  490 

Upon  his  thyghes  and  harte-fwefte  legges  he  wore 

A  hugie  goat  (kin,  all  of  one  grete  piece  ; 

A  boar  ikvn  fheelde  on  his  bare  armes  he  bore  ; 

His  gauntletts  were  the  flcynn  of  harte  of  greece. 

They  fieede ;  he  followed  clofe  upon  their  heels, 

Vowynge  vengeance  for  his  deare  countrymanne! 

And  Siere  de  Sancelotte  his  vengeance  feels; 

He  peerc'd  hys  backe,  and  out  the  bloude  ytt 

ranne.  Farme, 

His  bloude  went  downe  the  fwerde  unto  hys 

In  fpringing  rivulet,  alive  and  warme.          500 

His  fwerde  was  fhorte  and  broade,  and  myckle 
keene,  [waie ; 

And  no  mann's  bone  could  ftonde  to  ftoppe  itts 
The  Normann's  harte  in  partes  two  cutt  cleane, 
He  clos'd  his  eyne,  and  clos'd  hys  eyne  for  aie. 
Then  with  his  fwerde  he  fett  on  Fitz  du  Valle, 
A  knyghte  mouch  famous  for  to  runne  at  tylte  ; 
With  thilk  a  furie  on  hym  he  dyd  falle, 
Into  his  neck  he  ranne  the  fwerde  and  hylte  ; 
As  myg-htie  lyjjhtenynge  often  hasheen  founde, 
To  drive  an  oke  into  unfallow'd  grounde.     510 

And  with  the  fwerde,  that  in  his  neck  yet  ftoke, 
The  Norman  fell  unto  the  bloudie  grounde  ; 
And  with  the  fall  ap  Tewdore's  fwerde  he  broke, 
And    bloude    afrefne   came    trickling   from  the 

wounde. 

As  whan  the  hyndes,  before  a  mountayne  wolfe, 
Flie  from  his  paws,  and  angrie  vyfage  grym  ; 
But  when  he  falls  into  the  pittic  golphe, 
They  dare  hym  to  his  bearcle,  and  battone  hym  ; 
And  caufe  he  fryghted  them  fo  muche  before, 
Lyke  cowart  hyndes,   they  battone  hym  the 
wore,  520 


So,  whaathev  fawe  apTewdore  was  bereft 

Of  his  keen  fwerde,  thatt  wroghte  thilke  great 

difmaie, 

They  turned  about,  eftfoons  upon  him  lept, 
And  full  a  fcore  engaged  in  the  fraie. 
Mervyn  ap  Tewdore,  ragyng  as  a  bear, 
Seiz'd  on  the  beaver  of  the  Sier  de  Lacque  ; 
And  wring'd  his  hedde  with  fuch  a  vehement  gier, 
His  vifage  was  turned  round  unto  his  backe. 
Backe  to  his  harte  retyr'd  the  ufelefs  gore, 
And  felle  upon  the  pleine  to  rife  no  more.    440 

Then  on  the  mightie  Siere  Fitz  Pierce  he  flew, 
And  broke  his  helm,  and  feiz'd  hym  bie  the  throte  : 
Then  manie  Normann  knyghtes   their    arrowes 

drew, 

That  enter'd  into  Mervyn's  harte,  God  wote. 
In  dying  panges  he  gryp'd  his  throte  more  ftronge, 
And  from  their  fockets  ftarted  out  his  eyes ; 
And  from  his  mouthecameout  his  blamelefs  tonge: 
And  bothe  in  peine  and  anguifiie  eftfoon  dies. 
As  ibnie  rude  rocke  torne  from  his  bed  of  claie, 
Stretch'd  onn  the  pleyne  the  brave  ap  Tewdore 
laie.  540 

And  now  Erie  Ethelbert  and  Egward  came, 
Brave  MeYvyn  from  the  Normannes  to  affift  ; 
A  myghtie  fiere,  Fitz  Chatulet  bie  name. 
An  arrowe  drew,  that  dyd  them  littel  lift. 
Erie  Egward  points  his  launce  at  Chatulet, 
And  Ethelbert  at  Walleris  fet  his; 
And  Egwald  dyd  the  fiere  a  hard  blowe  bytt, 
But  Ethelbert  by  a  myfchaunce  dyd  mifs : 
Fear  laide  Walleris  flat  upon  the  ftrande, 
He  ne  deferved  a  death  from  erlieshande.    553 

Betwyxt  the  ribbes  of  Sire  Fitz  Chatelet, 
The  poynted  launce  of  Egward  did  ypafs; 
The  diltaunt  fyde  thereof  was  ruddic  wet, 
And  he  fell  breathlefs  on  the  bloudie  grafs. 
As  cowart  Walleris  laie  on  the  grounde, 
The  dreaded  weapon  hummed  o'er  his  heade, 
And  hytt  the  fqaier  thylke  a  lethal  wounde, 
Upon  his  fallen  lorde  he  tumbled  dead : 

Oh,  (hame  to  Norman  armes  !  a  lord  a  flavc, 
A  captyve  villeyn  than  a  lorde  more  brave  !  $6& 

From  Chatelet  hys  launce  Erie  Egward  drew, 
And  hit  Wallerie  on  the  dexter  cheek  ; 
Peerc'd  to  his  braine,'  and  cut  his  tongue  in  two : 
There,   knyght,   quod   he,   let   that  thy  action* 
fpeak — 


BATTLE  OF  HASTINGS. 
No.  II. 

OH  truth  !  immortal  daughter  of  the  flues, 
Too  lyttle  known  to  wryters  of  thefe  daies, 
Teach  me,  fayre  faindle  1  thy  paffynge  worthe  to 

pryze, 

To  blame  a  friend,  and  give  a  foeman  prayff. 
The  fickle  moone,  bedeckt  wythe  filver  rays, 
Leadynge  a  traine  of  ftarres  of  feeble  lyghte, 
With  look  adigne  the  worlde  helowe  furveies, 
The  world,  that  wotted  not  it  coud  b?  nyghtej 
Wyth  armour  dyd,  with  human  gore  ydeyd, 
She  fees  Kynge   Harolde  ftande,  fayrc  England* 

curfe  and  pryde.  *^> 


POEMS. 


363 


With  ale  and  vernage  drunk  hisfouldiers  lay; 
Here  was  an  hynde,  anie  an  erlie  fpredde ; 
Sad  keepynge  of  their  leaders  natal  daie  ! 
This  even  in  drinke,  to-morrow  with  the  dead ! 
Through everie  troope  diforderreer'dher  hedde; 
Dancynge  and  heideignes  was  the  onlie  theme; 
Sad  dome  was  theires,  who  lefte  this  eafie  bedde, 
And  wak'd  in  tormentes  from  fo  fweet  a  dream. 
Duke  Williamsjnenne,  of  comeing  dethe  afraidc, 
All  nyghte  to   the  great  Godde  for  fuccour  afkd 
and  praied.  20 

Thus  Harolde  to  his  wites  that  floode  arounde  ; 
Goe,  Gyrthe  and  Eilward,  take  bills  halfe  a 

fcore, 
And  fearch  how  farre  our  foeman's  campe  doth 

bound; 

Yourfelf  have  rede ;  I  nede  to  faie  no  more. 
My  brother  befl  belov'd  of  anie  ore, 
My  Leofwinus,  goe  to  everich  wite, 
Tell  them  to  raunge  the  battel  to  the  grore, 
And  waiten  tyll  I  lende  the  hell  for  fyghte. 
He  faide  ;  the  loieaul  broders  lefte  the  place," 
Succefs  and  cheerfulnefs  depicted  on  ech  face.    30 

Slowelie  brave  Gyrthe  and  Eilwarde  dyd  ad- 

vaunce, 

And  mark'd  wyth'care  the  armies  dyftant  fyde, 
When  the  dyre  clatterynge  of  the  fliielde  and 

launce 

Made  them  to  be  by  Hugh  Fitzhtigh  efpyd. 
He  lyfted  up  his  voice,  and  lowdlie  cryd ; 
Like  wolfs  in  wintere  did  the  Normanne  yell ; 
Girthe  drew  hys  fwerde,  and  cuttc  hys  burled 

hyde; 

The  proto-flene  manne  of  the  fielde  he  felle  ; 
Out  firecmd  the  bloude,  and  ran  in  imokyr.ge 

curies, 
Reflected  bie  the  moone  feemd  rubies  mixt  wyth 

pearles.  40 

A  troope  of  Normannes  from  the  mafs-fonge 

came,  4 

Roufd  from  their  praiers  by  the  fiotting  crie ; 
Thoughe  Girthe  and  Ailwardus  perceevd  the 

fame, 

Not  once  theie  ftoode  aliafiid,  or  thoughte  to  flic. 
He  feizd  a  bill,  to  conquer  or  to  die ; 
Fierce  as  a  clevis  from  a  rocke  ytorne, 
That  makes  a  vallie  wherfoe're  it  lie  ; 

*  Fierce  as  a  ryver  burftynge  from  the  borne  ; 
So  fiercelie  Gyrthe  hitte  Fitz  du  Gore  a  blowe, 

And  on  the  verdaunt  playne  he  layde  the  cham- 
pyone  lowe.  50 

Tancarville  thus ;  alle  peace  in  Williams  name ; 

Let  none-  edrawe  his  arcublafter  bowe. 

Girthe  cas'd  his  weppone,  aj  he  fcearde  the 

fame, 

And  vengynge  Normannes  ftaid  the  flyinge  floe. 
The  fire  wcnte  onne  ;  ye  menne,  what  mean  yc 

fo, 

Thus  unprovok'd  to  courte  a  bloudie  fyghte  ? 
Quod  Gyrthe;  cure  meanynge  we  ne  care  to 

fhowe, 
Nor  dread  thy  duke  wyth  all  his  men  of  myghtc; 

*  In   Turgott's  iyme  Hotlenvell  Ircfe  of  ertle  fo 
Jttrce,  that  it   tbreiu   a  Jlo/ie-mell   carrying  tie  fame 

y.  Lydgate  ne  kniming  tList  leftt  out  a  line. 


Here  fmglc  onlie  thefe  to  all  thie  crewe 
Shall  fhewe  what  Englyfh  handes  and  heartea  can 
doe.  60 

Seek  not  for  bloude,  Tancarville  c;ilme  reply'd* 
Nor  joie  in  dethe,  lyke  madmen  moft  diftraughti 
In  peace  and  mercy  is  a  Chryftians  pryde  ; 
He  that  dothe  conteftes  pryze  is  in  a  faulte. 
And  now  the  news  was  to  Duke  William  brought, 
That  men  of  Haroldes  armie  taken  were  ; 
For  theyre  good  cheere  all  cades  were  en- 

thoughte, 

And  Gyrthe  and  Eilwardus  enjoi'd  goode  cheete. 

Quod  Willyam ;  thus  fliall  Willyam  be  foundc 

A  friend  to  everie  manne  that  treades  on  Engliih 

ground.  70 

Erie  Leofwinus  throwghe  the  campe  ypafs'd, 
And  fawe  bothe  men  and  erlies  on  die  grounde; 
They  flepte,  as  thoughe  they  woulde  have  fleptc 

theyr  lait, 

And  hadd  alreadie  felte  theyr  fatale  woimde. 
He  ftarted  backe,  and  was  wyth  fhame  aftownd; 
Loked  wanne  wyth  anger,  and  he  Ihooke  wytb. 

rage; 
When  throughe  the  hollow  tentes  thefe  wordes 

dyd  found, 

Rowle  from  your  fleepe,  detratours  of  the  age ! 

Was  it  for  thys  the  ftoute  Norwegian  bledde  ? 

Awake,  ye  hufcarles,  now,  or  waken  wyth  the 

dead.  2o 

As  when  the  fliepfter  in  the  fhadie  bowre 
In  jintle  flumbers  chafe  the  heat  of  daie, 
Hears  doublyng  echoe  wind  the  wolfins  rore, 
That  neare  hys  flocke  is  watching  for  a  praie, 
He  tremblynge  for  his  fheep  drivesdreeme  a-waie. 
Gripes  fafte  hys  burled  croke,  and  fore  addrade 
Wyth  fleeting  ftrides  he  haflens  to  the  fraie, 
And  rage  and  prowefs  fyres  the  coiflrell  lad; 
With  truflie  talbots  to  the  battel  flies, 
And  yell  of  men,  and  dogs,  and  wolfins,  tear  the. 
ikies.  90 

Such  was  the  dire  confufion  of  each  wite, 
That  rofe  from  fleep  and  walfome  power  of 

wine ; 

Theie  thoughte  the  foe  by  trechit  yn  the  nyghte 
Had  broke  theyr  camp  and  gotten  pafte  the 

line ; 
Now  here  now  there  the  burnyfht  fheeldcs  and 

byll-fpear  fhine ; 

Throwote  the  campe  a  wild  confufionne  fpredde; 
Eche  bracd  hys  armlace  fiker  ne  defygne, 
The  crefted  helmet  nodded  on  the  heddc ; 
Some  caught  a  flughorne,  and  an  onfctt  wounde ; 
Kynge  Harolde  hearde  the  charge,  and  v/ondred 

at  the  founde.  IQQ 

Thus  Leofwine ;  O  women  cas'd  in  ftele ! 
Was  itte  for  thys  Norwegia's  ftubborn  fede 
Throughe  the  black  armoure  dyd  the  anlaca 

fele, 

And  rybbes  of  folid  brafle  were  made  to  bleede  ? 
Whylft  yet  the  worlde  was  wondrynge  at  the 

deede. 
You  fouldiers,  that  fhoulde  {land  with  byll  m 

hand, 

Get  full  of  wine,  devoid  of  any  rede. 
Qh  fliame !  oh  dyre  difhonoure  to  the  lande  I 


3% 

He  fayde  ;  and  fhame  on  everie  vifage  fprcdde, 
Ne  fawe  the  erlies  face,  but  addawd  hung  their 

head.  no 

Thus  he ;   rowze  yee,  and  forme  the  boddie 

tyghte. 
The  Kcntyih  mtnne  in  fronte,  for  flrenght  re- 

nownd, 

Next  the  Bryftowans  dare  the  bloudie  fyghte, 
And  laft  the  numerous  crewe  fliall  prefie  the 

grounde. 

I  and  my  king  be  wyth  the  Renters  founde  ; 
Bythrk  and  Alfwold  hedde  the  Bryftowe  bande ; 
And    Bertrams   fonne,    the    man    of  glorious 

\\-ounde, 

Lead  in  the  rear  the  menged  of  the  lande ; 
And  let  the  Londoners  and  Suffers  plie 
Bie  lierewardes  memuinc  and  the  lighte  fkyrts 

anie.  120 

He  faide  ;  and  as  a  pacte  of  hounds  bclent, 
"When  that  the  trackyng  of  the  hare  is  gone, 
If  one  perchaunce  {hall  hit  upon  the  fcent, 
With  twa  redubbled  f  huir  the  alans  run ; 
So  ftyrrd  the  vajiante  Saxons  e%rerych  one ; 
Sonne   linked    man  to   man  the  champyones 

ftoode ; 

To  'tone  for  their  bewrate  fo  foone  'twas  done, 
And  lyfted  bylls  enfeem'd  an  yron  -woode ; 
Here  glorious  Alfwold  towr'd  above  the  wites, 
And  feem'd  to  brave  the  fuir  of  twa  ten  thoufand 

fights.  1 30 

Thus  Leofwine ;  today  will  Englandes  dome 
Be  fyxt  for  aie,  for  gode  or  evill  ftate ; 
This  fonnes  aunture  be  felt  for  years  to  come  ; 
Then  bravelie  fyghte,  and  live  till  deathe  of 

date. 

Thinke  of  brave  JElfridvs,  yclept  the  grete, 
From  porte  to  porte  the  red-hairdDane  he  chafd, 
The  Dane?,  with  whomme  not  lyoncels  could 

mate, 

Who  made  of  peopled  reaulmes  a  barren  waftc; 
Think  how  at  once  by  you  Norwegia  bled 
WhUfte  dethe  andvidorie  for  magyitriebefted.  140 

Meanwhile  did  Gyrthe  unto  Kynge  Harolde 

ride, 
And  tolde  howe  he  dyd  with  Duke  Willyam 

fare. 

Brave  Harolde  lookd  afkaunte,  and  thus  replyd; 
And  can   thie  fay  be  bowght  wyth  drunken 

cheer  ? 
Gyrthe  waxen   hotte ;  f  huir  in  his  cyne  did 

glare ; 
And  thus  he  faide ;  oh  brother,  friend,  and 

kynge, 

Have  I  deferved  this  fremed  fpeche  to  heare  ? 
Bie   Goddes  hie  hallidome    ne   thoughte  the 

thynge. 

When  Toftus  fent  me  golde  and  fylver  ftore, 
I  fcornd  hys  prefent  vile,  and  fcorn'd  hys  treafon 

more.  160 

Forgive  me,  Gyrthe,  the  brave  Kynge  Harolde 

cryd ; 

Who  can  I  trufl,  if  brothers  are  not  true  ? 
1  think  of  Toftus,  once  my  joie  and  pryde. 
Cirthe  faide,  with  looke  adigne  ;  my  lord,  I  doe. 
£ut  what  cure  foemen  are,  quod  Girth,  I'll 

ftewe; 


WORKS   OF  CHATTERTON. 


By  Gods  hie  hallidome  they  preeftesarc. 
Do  not,  quod  Harolde,  Girthe,  myftell  them  fo, 
For  theie  are  everich  one  brave  men  it  warrc. 
Quod  Girthe  ;  why  will  ye  then  provoke  theyr 

hate  ? 
Quod  Harolde ;  great  the  foe,  fo  is  the  gloric 

grete.  170 

And  nowe  Duke  Willyam  marefchalled  his  band, 
And  ftretchd  his  armie  owre  a  goodlie  rowe. 
Firft  did  a  rank  of  arcublaftries  ftande, 
Next  thofe  on  horfcbacke  drewe  the  afcendyng 

flo, 

Brave  champyons,  eche  well  lerned  in  the  bowe, 
Theyr  afenglave  acrofie  theyr  horfes  ty'd, 
Or  with  the  loverds  fquier  behinde  dyd  goe, 
Or  waited  fquier  lyke  at  the  horfes  fyde, 
Whea  thus  Duke  Willyam  to  a  monke  dyd  fdie, 
Prepare  thyfelfe  wyth  ipede,  to  Harolde   hade 
awaie.  iS» 

Telle  hym  from  me  one  of  thefe  three  to  take ; 
That  lice  to  mee  do  homage  for  thys  lande, 
Or  mee  hys  heyre,  when  he  deceafyth,  make, 
Or  to  the  judgment  of  Chryft's  vicar  ftande. 
He  faide  ;  the  monkc  departed  out  of  hande, 
And  to  Kyng  Harolde  dyd  this  meflage  bear  ; 
Who  faid ;  telle  thou  the  duke,  at  his  likand 
If  hee  can  gette  the  crown  hee  may  itte  wear. 
He  faid,  and  drove  the  monke  out  of  his  fyghte, 
And  with  his  brothers  rouz'd  each  manne  to 
bloudie  fyghte.  190 

A  ftandarde  made  of  fylke  and  Jewells  rare, 
Wherein    alle    coloures  wroughte    aboute  ,'n 

bighes, 

An  armyd  knyghte  was  fecn  deth-doynge  there, 
Under  this  motte,  He  conquers  or  he  dies. 
Thisftandard  rych,  eridazzlynge  mortal  eyes, 
Was  borne  near  Harolde  at  the  Kenters  heade, 
Who  chargd  hys  broders  for  the  grete  empryze 
That  ftraite    the   heft   for    battle    fliould  be 

fpredde. 

To  cvry  erle'and  knyghte  the  worde  is  gyven, 
And  cries  a  guerre  and  flughornes  ihake  the  vault 
ed  heaven.  zo» 

As  when  the  erthe,  torne  by  convulfyons  dyre, 
In  reaulmes  of  darkuefs  hid  from  human  fyghte, 
The  warring  force  of  water,  air,  and  fyre, 
Braft  from  the  regions  of  eternal  nyghte, 
Through  the  darke  caverns  feeke  the  reaulmee 

of  lyght ; 

Some  loftie  mountaine,  by  its  fury  torne, 
Dreadfully  moves,  and  caufes  grete  affryght; 
Now  here,  now  there,  majeftic  nods  the  bourne, 
And  awfulle  fhakes,  mov'd  by  the  almighty 

force, 
Whole  woods  and  forefts  nod,  and  ryvers  change 

theyr  courfe.  aio 

So  did  the  men  of  war  at  once  advaunce, 
Linkd  man  to  man,  enfeem'd  one  boddie  light; 
Above  a  wood,  yform'd  of  bill  and  launce, 
That  ncddyd  in  the  ayre  moft  ftraunge  to  fyght. 
Harde  as  the  iron  were  the  men  of  mighte, 
Ne  neede  of  flughornes  to  enrowfe  theyr  minde ; 
Eche  fhootynge  fpere  yreaden  for  the  fyghte, 
More  feerce  than,  fallynge  rocks,  more  fwefte 
than  wynd ; 


POEMS. 


With  folemne  ftep,  by  ecchoe  made  more  dyre, 

One  tingle  boddie  all  theie  marchd,  theyreyen  on 

tyre.  220 

And  now  the  greie-eyd  morne  with  vi'lets  dreft, 
Shakynge  the  dewdrops  on  the  flourie  meedes, 
Fled  with  her  rofie  radiance  to  the  weft  : 
Forth  from  the  eafteme  gatte  the  fyerie  fteedes 
Of  the  bright  funne  awaytynge  fpirits  leedes : 
The  funne,  in  fierie  pornpe  enthron'd  on  hie, 
Swyfter  than  thoughte  alonge  hys  jernie  gledes, 
And  fcatters  nyghtes  reniaynes  from  oute  the 

fkie: 

He  fawe  the  armies  make  for  bloudie  fraie, 
And  ftopt  his  driving  fteedes,  and  hid  his  lyght- 

fome  raye.  230 

Kynge  HaroUle  hie  in  ayre  majeflic  rayfd 
His  mightie  arme,  dcckt  with  a  manchyn  rare ; 
With  even  hande  a  mighty  javlyn  paizde, 
Then  furyoufe  fent  it  whyftJynge  through  the 

ayre. 

It  ftruck  the  helmet  of  the  Sieurde  Beer; 
In  vayne  did  brafie  or  yron  ftop  its  waie : 
Above  his  eyne  it  came,  the  bones  dyd  tare, 
Peercynge  quite  through,  before  it  dyd  allaie  ; 
He  tumbled,  fcritchyng  wyth  hys  horrid  payne  ; 
His    hollow     cuifhes     rang     upon    the   bloudie 
pleyne.  .     240 

This  Willyam  faw>  and  foundynge  Rowlandes 

fonge 

He  bent  his  yron  interwoven  bowe, 
Makynge   bothe  endes  to  meet   with  myghte 

full  ftronge, 

From  out  of  mortals  fyght  fhut  up  the  floe : 
Then  fwyfte  asfallynge  ftarresto  earthe  belowe 
It  flaunted  down  on  Alfwoldes  peyndled  fheelde; 
Quite  through  the  filver-bordurd  crofle  did  goe, 
Nor  lofte  its  force,  but  ftiick  into  the  feelde  ; 
The  Normannes,  like  theyr  fovrin,  dyd  prepare, 
And  fhotte  ten  thoufande  floes  upryfynge  in  the 

aire.  251 

As  when  a  flyghte  of  cranes,  that  takes  their 

waie 

In  houfeholde  armies  through  the  flanched  (kie, 
Alike  the  caufe,  or  companie,  or  prey, 
If  that  perchaunce  fome  boggie  fenne  is  nie, 
Soone  as  the  muddy  natyon  theie  efpie, 
Inne  one  blacke  cloude  theie  to  the  erth  de- 

fcende ; 

Feirce  as  the  fallynge  thunderbolte  they  flie  ; 

In  vayne  do  reedes  the  fpeckled  folk  defend  ; 

So  prone  to  heavie  blowe  the  arrowes  felle, 

And  peered  through  brafle,  and  fente  manie  to 

heaven  or  helle.  260 

JElan  Adclfred,  of  the  ftowe  of  Leigh, 
Felte  a  dire  arrowe  burnynge  in  hys  brefte  ; 
Before  he  dyd,  he  fente  hys  fpear  awaie, 
Thenne  funke  to  glorie  and  eternal  reftc. 
Nevylle,  a  Normannfc  of  alle  Normannes  befte, 
Throw  the  joint  cuifhe  dyd  the  javlyn  feel, 
As  hee  on  horfebacke  for  the  fyghte  addrefs'd, 
And  fawe  hys  bloude  come  imokynge  oer  the 

fteele ; 

He  fente  the  avengeynge  floe  into  the  ayre, 
And  turnd  hys  horfes  hedde,  and  did  to  Iteche  re- 

payre,  a;o 


And   now  thejavelyns,  barb;!  with  death  his 

wynges, 

Hurld  from  the  Englyfli  handes  by  force  ademe, 
Whyzz    dreare   alonge,    and  fonges  of  terror 

fynges, 

Such  fonges  as  alwaies  clos'd  in  lyfe  eterne. 
Hurld  by  fuch  ftrength  along  the  ayre  th>ie 

burne,  [bloude ; 

Not   to  be    quenched    butte    yn   Normannes 
Wherere  theie  came  they  were-  of  lyfe  forlorn. 
And  alwaies  followed  by  a  purple  floude  ; 
Like  cloudes  the  Normanne  arrowes  did  defcend. 
Like  cloudes  of  carnage  full  in  purple  drops  dyd 

end.  3  Jo 

Nor,  Leofwynus,  dydft  thoii  ftill  eftande; 
Full  foon  thie  pheon  glytted  in  the  aire; 
The  force  of  none  but  thyne  and  Harolds  hande 
Could  hurle  a  javyln  with  fuch  lethal  geet: 
Itte  whyzzed  a  ghaftlie  dynne  in  Normarmcs 

ear, 

Then  thundryng  dyd  upon  hys  greave  alyghte, 
Peirce  to  his  hearte,  and  dyd  hys  bowels  tear. 
He  clos'd  hys  eyne  in  everla<tynge  nyghte  ; 
Ah  1  what  avalyd  the  lyons  on  hys  crefte  1 
His  hatchments  rare  with  him  upon  the  grounds 
was  preft.  2^0 

Willyam  agayne  ymade  his  bowe-ends  meet, 
And  hie  in  ayre  the  arrowe  wynged  his  waie, 
Defcendyng  like  a  fliafte  of  thunder  fleete, 
Lyke  thunder  rattling  at  the  noon  of  daic, 
Onn'e  Algars  flieelde  the  arrowe  dyd  aflaie, 
There  throghe  dyd  peerfe,  and  ftycke  into  hit 

groine ; 

In  grypynge  torments  on  the  feelde  he  laic, 
The  welcome  dethe  came  in  and  clos'd  his  eyne; 
Diftort  with  peyne  he  laie  upon  the  borne, 
Lyke  fturdie  elms    by  ftormes  in  uncothe  wry. 

thynges  torne.  300 

Alrick  his  brother,  when  hee  this  perceevd, 
He  drewe  his  fwerde,  his  lefte  hande  helde  * 
fpeere,  [fteede, 

Towards  the    duke    he  turnd   his  prauncyng 
And  to  the  Godde  of  Heaven  he  fent  a  prayre  ; 
Then  fent  his  lethale  javyln  in  the  ayre, 
On  Hue  de  Beaumontesbacke  the  javelyn  came. 
Through  his  redde  armour  to  hys  harte  it  tare, 
He  felle  and  thondred  on  the  place  of  fame; 
Next  with  his  fwerde  he  'fay  Id  the  Seiur  de  Roe, 
And  brafte  his  fylver  helme,  foe  furyous  was  the 
blowe.  31* 

But  Willyam,  who  had  feen  hys  prowefle  great, 
And  feered  muche  how  farre  his  bronde  might 

goe, 

Tooke  a  ftrong  arblafter,  and  bigge  with  fate 
From  twangynge  iron  fente  the  fleetynge  ftoe, 
As  Alric  hoiftes  hys  arme  for  dedlie  blowe. 
Which,  han  it  came,  had  been  Du  Roees  lafte, 
The   fwyfte-wyngd  meflenger  from  Wjllyaujs 

bowe 

Qyite  throwe  his  arme  into  his  fyde  ypafte  ; 
His  eyne  fhotte  tyre,  lyke  blazyng  ftarre  at 

nyghte, 
He  grypd  hys  fwerdr,  and  felle  upon  the  place  of 

fyghte,  32* 


THE    WORKS    OF    CHATTERTOtf. 


O  Altwolde,  faie,  how  fhalle  I  fynge  of  thec 
Or  telle  howe  raanie  dyd  benethe  thee  falle ; 
Not   Haroldes  felf    more  Normanne  knyghtes 

did  flee, 

Not  Haroldes  felf  did  for  more  praifes  call; 
How  (hall  a  penne  like  myne  then  (hew  it  all  ? 
lykt     thee   their  leader,    eche   Briftowyanne 

foughte ; 

Lyke  ihee,  their  blaze  muft  be  canonical, 
For  theie,    like   thee,    that    dale     bewrecke 

yroughte: 

Did  thirtic  Normannes  fall  upon  the  grounde, 
Tull  half  a  icore  from  thee  and  theie  receive  their 

fatale  wounde.  330 

Firfl  Fytz  Chivelloys  felt  thie  direful  force  ; 
Nete  did  hys  helde  out  brazen  flieelde  availe  ; 
Kftfoones  throwe  that  thie  drivynge  fpeare  did 

peerce, 

Nor  was  ytte  flopped  by  his  coate  of  mayle  ; 
Into  his  breafte  it  quicklie  did  aflayle  ; 
Out  ran  the  bloude,  like  hygra  of  the  tyde  ; 
"With  purple  ftayned  all  hys  adventayle ; 
In  fcarlet  was  his  cuifhe  of  fylverdyde  : 
Upon  the  bloudie  carnage  houl'e  he  laie, 
Wbylft  hys  longe  (heelde  dyd  gleem  with  the  fun's 

ryfingray.  340 

Next  Fefcampe  felle ;  O  Chriefte,  howe  harde 

his  fate 

To  die  the  leckedft  knyghte  of  all  the  thronge  1 
His  fprite  was  made  of  malice  deflavate, 
Ne  ftioulden  -find  a  place  in  anie  longe. 
The  broch'd  keene  javlyn  hurld  from  honde  fo 

ftronge 

As  thine  came  thundrynge  on  hiscryfted  beave; 
Ah  1  neete  avayld  the  brafs  or  iron  thonge, 
With  mightie  force  his  fkulle   in   twoe  dyd 

cleave ; 

Fallyng  he  (hooken  out  his  fmokyng  braine, 
As  witherd  oakes  or  elms  are  hcwne  from  off  the 

playne.  350 

Nor,  Norcie,  could  thie  myghte  and  fkilfulle 

lore 

Preferve  thee  from  the  doom  of  Alfwold's  fpeere, 
Couldfte  thou  not  kenne,  mofte  Ikyil'd  Attrela- 

goure, 

Howe  in  the  battle  it  would  wythe  thee  fare  ? 
When  Alfwoldsjavelyn  rattlynge  in  the  ayre, 
From  hand  dyvine  on  thie  habergeon  came, 
Oute  at  thy  backe  it  dyd  thie  hartcs  bloude 

bear, 

It  gave  thee  death  and  everlaftynge  fame: 
Thy  deathe  could  onlie  come  from  Alfwolde 

arme,  3Sp 

As  diamondes  onlie  can  its  fellow  diamonds  harme. 

Next  Sire  du  Monline  fell  upon  the  grounde, 
O^iite   throughe  his  throte  the  lethal  javJyn 

prefte, 
His  foule  and  bloude  came  roufhynge  from  the 

wounde; 

He  closd  his  eyen,  and  opd  them  with  the  bleft. 
It  can  ne  be  I  mould  behight  the  reft, 
That  by  the  myghtie  arme  of  Alfwolde  felle, 
Pafte  bie  a  penne  to  be  counte  or  exprefte, 
How  manic  Alfwolde  feut  to  hsaven  or  helle  j 


As  leaves  from  trees  fhooke  by  dtrne  autumns 

hand, 

So  laie  the  Normannes  (lain  by  Alfwolde  on  the 
ftrand.  3*0 

As  when  a  drove  of  wolves  with  dreary  yells 
Affayle  fome  flocke,  ne  care  if  fliepfter  ken't, 
Befprenge  deftrudlione  oer  the  woodes  and 

delles; 

The  fliepfter  fwaynes  in  vayne  theyr  lees  lament; 
So  foughte  rhe  Bryftowe  menne ;  ne  one  ere- 

vent, 

Ne  on  abafh'd  enthoughten  for  to  flee  ; 
With  fallen  Normans  all  the  playne  befprent, 
And  like  theyr  leaders  every  man  did  flee  ; 
In  vayne  on  every  fide  the  arrows  fled  ; 
The  Bryftowe  menne  ftyll  rag'd,  for  Alfwold  was 

not  dead.  380 

Manie  meanwhile  by  Haroldes  arm  did  falle, 
And  Leofwyne  and  Gyrthe  encreas'd  the  flayne  ; 
Twould  take  a  Neftor's  age  to  fynge  them  all, 
Or  telle  how  manie   Normanncs    prefle    the 

playne  ; 

But  of  the  cries,  whom  recorde  nete  hath  flayne, 
O  truthe  !  for  good  of  after-tymes  relate, 

rh.it  tho-ve  they're  deade,  theyr  names    may 

lyve  agayne, 

And  be  in  deatha,  as  they  in  life  were,  greate  ; 
So  after-ages  maie  theyr  actions  fee, 

And  like  to  them  asternal  alwaie  ftryve  to  be.  330 

Adhelm,  a  knyghte,  whofe  holie  deathlefs  fire 
For  ever  bended  on  St.  Cuthbert's  (hryne, 
Whofe  breaft  for  ever  burnd  with  facred  fyre, 
And  een  on  erthe  he  myghte  be  calld  dyvine  ; 
To  Cuthbert's  church  he  dyd   his  goodes  re- 

fygne, 

And  lefte  hys  fon  his  God's  and  fortune's  knyghte ; 
His  fon  the  faindle  behelde  with  looke  adigne, 
Made  him  in  getnot  wy fe,  and  greate  in  fyghte ; 
Seincte   Cuthberte  dyd  him   ayde  in  all  hys 

deeds. 
His  friends  he  lets  to  live,  and  all  his  foemen 

bleedes.  430 

He  married  was  to  Kenewalchae  faire, 
The  fyneft  dame  the  fun  or  moone  adave; 
She  was  the  myghtie  Aderedus-heyre, 
Who  was  alreadie  hartynge  to  the  grave  ; 
As  the  blue  Bruton,  ryfing  from  the  wave, 
Like  fea-gods  feene  in  moft  majeftic  guife.j 
And  rounde  aboute  the  rifynge  waters  lave, 
And  their  longe  hayre  arounde  their  bodie  flies, 
Such  majeftie  was  in  her  porte  difplaid,        409 
To  be  excelld  bie  none  but  Homer's  martial  maid. 

White  as  the  chaulkie  clyffes  of  Britainnes  ifle 
Red  as  the  higheft  colour'd  Gallic  wine, 
Gaie  as  all  nature  at  the  mornyngc  fmile, 
Thofe  hues  with  pleafaunce  on  her  lippes  com 
bine,  [fkync, 
Her  lippes  more  redde  than  fummer  evenynge 
Or  Phcebus  ryfinge  in  a  froftie  morne, 
Her  brefte  more  white  thanfnow  infeeldes  that 

lyene, 

Or  lillie  lambes  that  never  have  been  (home, 
Swellynge  like  bubbles  in  a  boilynge  wclle, 
Or  new-brafte  brooklettes  gently  whyfperinge  in 
the  delle,  4*0 


POEMS. 


367 


Browne   a^s  the  fylberte   droppyr.g   from  the 

flielle, 

Br<  wnj  as  the  nappy  ale  at  Hocktyde  game, 
So  browne  the  crokyde  rynges,  that  fcatlie  fell 
Over  the  neck  of  the  all-beauteous  dame. 
Greie  as  the  morne  before  the  ruddie  flame 
Of  Phebus  charyotte  rollynge  thro  the  fkie, 
Greie  as  the  fteel-horn'd  goats  Conyan  inada 

tame, 

So  greie  appeard  her  featly  fparklyng  eye  ; 
Thofe  eyne,  that  did  oft  mickle  pleafed  look 
On  Adhelm  valyant  man,  the  virtues  doomfday 
book.  430 

Majeflic  as  the  grove  of  okes  that  ftoode 
Before  the  abbie  buylt  by  Ofwald  kynge ; 
Majeftic  as  fiybernies  holie  woode,    ' 
Where  fain<5tes  and  foules  departed  maffes  fynge; 
Such  awe  from  her  fweete  looke  for  iffuynge 
At  once  for  reveraunce  and  love  did  calle; 
Sweet  as  the  voice  of  thraflarkes  in  the  fpring, 
So  fweet  the  wordes  that  from  her  lippes  did 

falle; 

None  fell  in  vayne  ;  all  fhowed  fome  entent ; 
Her    wordies   did    difplaie    her    great    entende- 

ment.  440 

Tapre  as  candle*  lay-de  at  Cuthberts  fhryne, 
Tapre  as  elmes  that  Goodrickes  abbie  flirove, 
Tapre  as  filver  chalices  for  wine, 
So  tapre  was  her  armes  and  fhape  ygrove. 
As  fkyllful  mynemenne  by  the  flones  above 
Can  ken  what  metalle  is  ylach'd  belowe, 
So  Kennewaicha's  face,  ymade  for  love, 
The  lovelie  ymage  of  her  foule  did  fhowe; 
Thus  was  fhe  outward  forjn'd ;  the  fun  her  mind 
Did  guilde  her  mortal  ihape  and  all  her  charms 
refin'd.  45® 

What  blazours  then,  whatglorie  fhall  he  clayme 
What  doughtie  Homere  fhall  hys  praifes  fynge, 
That  left  the  bofome  of  fo  fayre  a  dame 
Uncall'd,  unafkt,  to  ferve  his  lorde  the  kynge  ? 
To  his  fayre  fhrine   goode  fubjedts  ought  to 

bringe 

The  arms,  the  helmets,  all  the  fpoyles  of  warre , 
Throwe   everie   reaulm  the    poets  blaze    the 

thynge,  [farre , 

And  travelling  merchants  fpredde  hys  name  to 
The  flout  Norwegians  had  his  anlace  felte, 
And  nowe  amonge  his  foes  dethe-doynge  blowes 

he  delte.  460 

As  when  a  wolfyn  gettynge  in  the  meedes 
He  rageth  fore,  and  doth  about  hym  flee, 
Nowe  here  a  talbot,  there  a  lambkin  bkeds, 
And  all  the  graffe  with  clotted  gore  doth  ftree  ; 
As  when  a  rivlette  rolles  impetuouflie, 
And  breaks  the  bankes  that  would  its  force  re- 

ftrayne, 

Alonge  the  playne  in  fomynge  rynges  doth  flee, 
Gaynfte  walls  and  hedges  doth  its  courle  main- 

tayne ; 

As  when  a  manne  doth  in  a  corn-fielde  mowe, 
With  cafe  at  one  felle  ftroke  full  manie  is  laide 

lowe.  470 

So  manie,  with  fuch  force,  and  with  fuch  eafe, 
Did  Adhelm  flaughtre  on  the  bloudie  playne ; 


Before  hym  manie  dyd  theyr  hearts  bloude  leafe, 
Ofttymes  he  foughte  on  towres  of  fmokynge 

flayne. 

Angillian  felte  his  force,  nor  felte  in  vaync  ; 
He  cutte  hym  with  his  fwerde  athur  the  breafte  ; 
Out  ran  the  blonde,  and  did  hys  armoure  ttaync, 
He  clos'd  his  eyen  in  sternal  refte ; 
Lyke  a  tall  okc  by  tempefte  borne  awaie, 
Stretch'd  in  the  armes  of  dethe  upon  the  plainc  he 

laic.  480 

Next  thro  the  ayre  he  fent  his  javlyn  feerce, 
That  on  De  Clearmoundes  buckler  did  alyghte, 
Throwe  the  vafte  orbe  the  fharpe  pheotie  did 

pecrce, 

Rang  on  hiscoateof  mayle  andfpentc  its  mighte. 
But  foon  another  wingd  its  aiery  flyghte, 
The  keen  broad  pheon  to  his  lungs  did  goe ; 
He  felle,  and  groanci  upon  the  place  of  fighte, 
Whilft  lyfe  and  bloude  came  iffuynge  from  the 

blowe. 

Like  a  tall  pyne  upon  his  native  playne, 
So  fell  the  mightie  lire  and  mingled  with  the 

flaine.  4^0 

Hue  de  Longeville,  a  force  doughtre  mere, 
Advauncyd  forwarde  to  provoke  the  darte, 
When  foone  he  founde  that  Adhelnles  poynted 

fpeere 

Had  founde  an  eafie  pafTage  to  his  hearte. 
He  drewe  his  bowe,  nor  was  of  dcthe  aftarte. 
Then  fell  down  brethlefle  to  encreafe  the  corfe  ; 
But  as  he  drewe  hys  bowe  devoid  of  arte, 
So  it  came  down  upon  Troy  villains  horfe ; 
Deep  thro  hys  hatchments  wente  the  pointed 

floe; 
Now  here,  now  there,  with  rage  bleedyng  he 

rounde  doth  goe.  5°° 

Nor  does  he  hede  his  maftres  known  commands, 
Tyll,  growen  furioufe  by  his  bloudie  wounde, 
Ered  upon  his  hynder  feete  he  ftaundes, 
And  throwes  hys  maflre  far  off  to  the  grounde. 
Near  Adhelms   feete   the   Normanne  laie  af- 

tounde, 

Befprengd  his  arrowes,  loofend  was  his  (heelde, 
Thro  his  redde  armoure,  as  he  laie  enfooud. 
He  peered  his  fwerde,  and  out  upon  the  feelde 
The  Normannes  boweh  lleemed,  a  dedlie  f\ ghte ! 
He    opd    and    closd    hys   eyen   in  everlaftynge 
nyghtft  510 

Caverd,  a  Scot,  who  for  the  Normannes  fonghte, 
A  man  well  flcilld  in  fwerde  and  ioundynge 

ftrynge, 

Who  fled  his  country  for  a  crime  enfhote, 
For  darynge  with  bolde  worde  hys  loiaule 

kynge,  \^Y°Se 

He   at   Jirle   Aldhelme  with   grete   force    did 
An  heavie  javlyn,  made  for  bloudie  wounde, 
Alonge  his  Iheelde  aflcaunt  the  fame  did  ringe, 
Peered    thro   the    corner,    then  ftuck  in   the 

grounde : 

So  when  the  thonder  rauttles  in  the  flcie, 
Thro  fome  tall  1'pyre  the  fhaftes  in  a  torn  clevis 
flie.  Ji° 

Then  Addhelm  hurld  a  croched  javlyn  ftronge, 
With  mighte  that  none  but  fuch  grcte  than*- 
piones  know ; 


36* 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTER  TO  NT. 


Swifter  than  thoughte  thejavlyn  pad  alonge 
And  hytte  the  Scot  moft  terclie  on  the   ptowe; 
His  helmet  brafted  at  the  thondring  blowe, 
Into  his  brain  the  tremblyn  javlyn  fteck ; 
From  eyther  fyde  the  blonde  began  to  flow, 
And  run  in  circling  ringlets  rounde  his  neck  ; 
Down  fell  the  vvarriour  on  the  lethal  ftrande, 
Lyke  fome  tall  vefiel  wreckt  upon  the  tragick 
fande.  530 

CONTINUED. 

Where  fruytlefs  heathes  and  meadowes  claddc 
in  greie,  [ble  heade, 

Save  where  derne  hawthornes  reare  theyr  hum- 
.  The  hungrie  traveller  upon  his  waie 
Sees  a  huge  defarte  alle  arounde  hym  fpredde, 
The  diftaunte  citie,  fcantlie  to  be  fpedde. 
The  curlynge  force  of  fmoke  he  fees  in  vayne, 
Tis  too  far  diftaunte,  and  hys  onlie  bedde 
I  wimpled  in  hys  cloke  ys  on  the  playne, 
Whylfte  rattlynge  thonder  forrey  oer  his  hedde, 
And  raines  come  down  to  wette  hys  harde  un- 
couthlie  bedde.  540 

A  wondrous  pyle  of  rugged  mountaynesftandes, 
Placd  on  eche  other  in  a  dreare  arraie, 
It  ne  could  be  the  worke  of  human  handes, 
It  ne  was  reared  up  bie  menne  of  claie. 
Here  did  the  Brutons  adoration  paye 
To  the  falfe  god  whom  they  did  Tauran  name, 
Dightynge  hys  altarre  with  greetefyres  in  Maie, 
Roaftynge    theyr   vyClimes   round  aboute  the 

flame, 

'Twas  here  that  Hengyft  did  the  Brytons  flee, 
As  they  were  mette  in  council  for  to  bee.         550 

Neere  on  a  loftie  hylle  a  citie  ftandes, 
That  liftes  yts  fcheafted  heade  ynto  the  fkies, 
And  kinglie  lookes  arounde  on  lower  landes, 
And  the  longe  browne  playne  that  before  itte 

lies. 

Herewarde,  borne  ofparentes  brave  and  wyfe, 
Within  this  vylle  fyrfte  adrewe  the  ayre, 
A  bleflynge  to  the  erthe  fente  from  the  Ikies, 
In  anie  kyngdom  nee  coulde  fynde  his  pheer ; 
Now  ribbd  in  fteele  he  rages  yn  the  fighte, 
And  i'weeps  whole   armies  to  the  reaulmes  of 
nyghte.  560 

Soe  when  derne   Autumne  with  hys  fallowe 

hande 

Tares  the  green  mantle  from  the  lymed  trees, 
The  leaves  befprenged  on  the  yellow  ftrande 
Flie  in  whole  armies  from  the  blataunte  breeze; 
Alle  the  whole  fielde  a  carnage-houfe  he  fees, 
And  fowles  unknelled  hover'd  oer  the  bloude  ; 
From  place  to  place  on  either  hand  he  flees, 
And  fweeps   alle  neere   hym   lyke   a  bronded 

floude  ; 

Dethe  honge  upon  his  arme  ;  he  fleed  fo  maynt, 
•Tis  pafte  the  pointel  of  a  man  to  paynte.         570 

Bryghte   fonne  iu  hafte  han  drove  hys  fierie 
wayne 

A  three  howres  courfe  alonge  the  whited  fkyen, 

Vewynge  the  fwarthlefs  bodies  on  the  playne, 
And  longed  greetlie  to  plonce  in  the  bryne. 
For  as  hys  beemes  and  far-ftretchynge  eyne 

Did  view  the  pooles  of  gore  yn  purple  (hecue, 


The  woltomme  vapours  rounde  hys  lockes  dy'i 

twyne, 

And  dyd  disfygure  all  hys  femmlikeen  ; 
1  hen  to  harde  aclyon  he  hys  wayne  dyd  rowfe. 
In  hyflynge  ocean  to  make  glair  hys  browes.    58* 

Duke  Wylfyam  gave  commaunde,  eche  Norman 

knyghte, 

That  beer  war-token  in  a  fhielde  fo  fyne, 
Shoulde  onward  goe,  and  dare  to  cloier  fyghte 
The  Saxonne  vvarryor,  that  dyd  fo  entwyne, 
Lyke  the  nefhe  bryon  and  the  eglantine, 
Orre  Cornym  wraftlers  at  a  Hocktyde  game. 
The  Normannes,  all  emarchialld  in  a  lyne, 
To  the  ourt  arraie  of  the  thight  Saxonnes  came  ; 
There  'twas  the  whaped  Normannes  on  a  parre 
Dyd   know   that   Saxonnes   were   the  fonnes  of 

wane.  590 

Oh    Turgotte,    wherefoeer    thie   fpryte  dothe 

haunte, 

Whither  wyth  thie  lovd  Adhelme  by  thie  fyde, 
Where  thou  mayfte  heare  the  fwotie  nyghte- 

larke  chaunte,  [glide, 

Orre  wyth  fome  mokynge  brooklette  fwetelie 
Or  rowle  in  ferielie  wythe  ferfe  Severnes  tyde, 
Whereer  thou  art,  come  and  my  mynde  enleme 
Wyth  fuch  greete  thoughtes  as  dyd  with  thee, 

abyde,  [beeme, 

Thou  fonne,  of  whom  I    ofte  have  caught  a 
Send  mee  agayne  a  drybbjette  of  thie  lyghte. 
That  I  the  deeds  of  Englyflimenne  maie  wry  te.  6"o» 
Harold,  who  faw  the  Normannes  to  advaunce, 
Seizd  a  huge  by II,  and  laydhym  down  hys  fpere; 
Soe  dyd  ech  wite  laie  downe  the  broched  launce^ 
And  groves  of  bylles  did  glitter  in  the  ayre. 
Wyth    fhowtes    the    Normannes    did    to  battel 

fteere ; 

Campynon  famous  for  his  ftature  highe, 
Fyrey  wythe  brafle,  bencthe  a  fhyrte  of  lere, 
In  cloudie  daie  he  reechd  into  the  flue  ; 
Neere  to  Kyng  Harold  dyd  he  come  alonge, 
And    drewe    hys    fteele    Morglaien    fworde    fo 

ftronge.  6im 

Thryce  rounde  hys  heade  hee  fwung  hys  anlace 

wyde, 

On  whyche  the  funne  his  vifage  did  agleeme, 
Then  ftraynynge,  as  hys  membres  would  dy- 

vyde,  [breme ; 

Hee   ftroke  on   Haroldes  fheelde    yn   manner 
Alonge  the  fielde  it  made  an  horrid  cleembe, 
Coupeynge  Kyng  Harolds  payncled  fheeld  in 

twayne, 

Then  yn  the  bloude  the  fierie  fwerde  dyd  fteeme, 
And  then  dyd  drive  ynto  the  bloudie  playne; 
So  when  in  ayre  the  vapours  doe  abounde, 
Some    thunderbolte    tares    and  dryves  ynto  the 

grounde.  tfae 

Harolde  upreer'd  hys  bylle,  and  furious  fente 
A  ftroke,  lyke  thondre,  at  the  Normannes  fyde  ; 
Upon  the  playne  the  broken  brafle  befprente 
Dyd  ne  bys  bodie  from  dethe-doeynge  hyde  ; 
He  tournyd  backe,  ani  dyd  not  there  abyde  ; 
With  Itraught  oute  flieelde  hee  ayenvvarde  did 
goe,  [divide,' 

Threwe  downe  the  Normannes,  did  their  rankes 
To  fave  himfelfe  kfte  them  unto  the  foe  j 


POEMS. 


So  olyphauntes,  in  kingdoaame  of  the  funne, 

When  once  provok'd  doth  throwe  fheyr  own 

troopes  runne.  63 

Harolde,  who  ken'd  hee  was  his  armies  ftaie,' 
Nedeynge  the  rede  of  generaul  fo  wyfe, 
Byd  Alfwoulde  to  Canipynon  hafte  awaie, 
As  thro  the  armie  ayenwarde  he  hies, 
Swyfte  as  a  feether'd  takel  Alfwoulde  flies, 
The  fleele  bylle  blulhynge  oer  wyth  lukewarm 

bloudej 

Ten  Renters,  ten  Briftewans  for  th'  emprize 
Hafted  wyth.  Alfwoulde  where  Campy  non  flood 
Who  ayenwarde  went,  whylfte  everieNormann 

knyghte  6j< 

Dyd  blufh  to  fee  their  champyon  put  to  flyghte. 

As  pain&yd  Bruton,  when  a  wolfyn  wylde, 
When  y  t  is  cale  and  bluftrynge  wyndes  do  blowe 
Enters  hys  bordelle,  taketh  hys  yonge  cliyide, 
And  wyth  his  bloude  beftreynts  the  lillie.fnowe 
He  thoroughe  mountayne  hie  and  dale  doth  goe 
Throwe  the  quyck  torrent  of  the  botlen  ave, 
Throwe  Severne  rollynge  oer  the  fand*  bclowe 
He  ikyms  alofe,  anJ  Heats,  the  beatynge  wave, 
Ne  ftynts,  ne  la^ges  the  chace,  tylle  for  liys 
eyne  649 

I  In  peecies  hee  die  motkering  theef  doth  chyne. 

So  Alfwoade  he  dyd  to  Campy non  hatte; 
Hys  bloadie   byfie  awhap'd  the  Normannes 

eyne; 

Hee  fled,  as  wolfes  when  bie  the  talbots  chac'd, 
To  bloudie  byker  he  dyd  ne  ecclyno. 
Duke  Wyllyam  itrokc  hyra  on  hys  T>rigandyne; 
And  fayd> ;'  Campynon,  is  it  thee  I  fee  ? 
Thee  ?  who  dydft  a&es  of  gioric  fo  bewryen, 
Now  poorlie  corue  to  hydc  thieielfe  hie  mee  ? 
Awaie !,  tliou  dogge,  and  a«3:e  a  warriors,  pone, 
•r  with  mie  fwerde  1 II  perce  thee  to  the  liar  te.  660 

Betweene  Erie  Alfwoalde  and  Duke  Wyllyam's 

bronde 
Canipynon  thoughtc  that  nete  but  deathe'coulde 

bee, 

Seezed  a  huge  iwcrde  Morglakn  j'n  bis  hoade, 
Mottrynge  a  praier  to  the  Vyrgyue : 
So  hunted  deere  the  dry  vynge  houndes  will  flee, 
When  theie  dyfcover  they  cannot  efcape; 
And  feerful  lambkyiis,  when  theie  hunted  bee, 
Theyre  ynfante  hunters  doe  theie  «fte  aw  tape; 
Thus  ftoode  Campynon,  greete  but  hertlefie 

kiryghte, 
When  feere  of  dethe  made   hyra  for  deathe  to 

fyghte.  670 

Alfwoulde  begxa  to  dygfetenymfeHe  for  fygLte, 
Meanewfeyle  liys  rnenne  on  ererie  fyde  dyd  flee, 
Whan  on  hys  lyfte<i  ihetide  withe  aUe  hys 

Smyghte 
Carapyubn**  fwerde  in  burlie-brande  dyd  dree ; 
Bevropen  Alfwoulde  fetieo  on  his  knee  ; 
Hys  Bryftowe  menne  came  in  hym  for  to  feve ; 
£f tfoons  upgotten  from  the  grouode  was  hee, 
And  dyd  agayne  the  touring  Norman  brave; 
Hee  grafpd  hys  bylle  in  fyke  a  drear  arraie, 
Hee  feem'd  a  iyon  catdiynge  at  hys  preie,       680 

Upon  the  NorHianncs  brazen  adventayle 
The  thoridrytige  biil  oif  aiyghtie  Aiiwo»i'vi  caaic ; 
Vol.  XI. 


It  made  a  dentful  brufe,  and  then  dyd  fayle ; 
Fronmie  rattlyngc  wcepons  fljottc  a  fparklynge 

flame; 

Eftfoons  agayne  the  thondrynge  bill  ycamc, 
Peers'd  thro  hys  adventayle  and  flcyrts  of  lare; 
A  tyde  of  purple  gore  came  wyth  the  fame, 
;  As  out  hys  bowells  on  the  feclde  it  tare; 
.  Campynon  felle,  as  when  fome  citie-walle 
lone  dolefulle  tcrrours  on  its  mynours  falle.      69* 

He  fellej  and  dyd  the  Norman  rankes  dyvide; 
So  when  an  oke,  that  fhotte  ynto  the  fide, 
Feeles  the  broad  axes  peerfynge  his  broader  fyde, 
Slow'ie  hee  falls  and  on  the  grounde  dothe  lie, 
Preflynge  all  downe  that  is  wyth  bym  anighe, 
And  ftoppynge  wearie  travellers  on  the  waie) 
So  draught  upon  the  playne  the  Norman  hie 
*  *  .          *  *  * 

Bled,  gron'd,  and  dyed:  the  Normanoe  knyghtes 

aftound 

To  fee  the  bawfin.  champyon  prefte  upon   the 
ground.  700 

As  when  the  hygra  of  the  Severne  roars, 
And  thunders  uglbm  on  the  fandes  below, 
The  cleembe  reboundes  to  Wedecefters  fhore, 
And  fweeps  the  black  fande  xouude  its  boric 

'prowe ; 

!  So  bremie  Alfwoulde  thro  the  warre  dyd  goe  ; 
Hys  Renters  and  Bryftowans  flew  ech  iyde, 
B^tmnted  all  tJonge  with  blcudlefs  foe, 
And  feemd  to  iwymmalenge  with  bloudie  tyJej 
Ifromme  phcc  to  pLtce  bcfiucard  vitii  luoud 

they  went, 
And  roundc    aLoutc  them  fwarthlds  code  be* 

A  famous  Norinanne  wbo  ydtepd  Aubene, 
Of  fkyll  in  bow,  ID  tylte,  and   hxtrdcfworde 


That  daie  yn  feelde  Ian  r-:nie  Karons  fkene, 
Forre  hee  in  ibtheu  w&s  a  mannc  ;of  ti.yghte  ; 
Fj  rfte  dyd  his  fwerde  <ua  Adtlgac  a^yghtc, 
As  hee  09  borfeback  was,  an  J  pecrsd  hysgryne, 
Then  apwardc  weote:  ineffeiiailyngc  nyglitc 
Hee  clopd  hys  rollyngand  thmfy^bt-rvi  true. 
Next  Eadlyo,  Taiscyu,  and  lam'd  Adtlrcd, 
3  ie  various  cauies  Innken  to  the  dead.  730 

But  now  to  AHwonWe  he  oppofynge  went, 
To  whom  compared  hee  wasa  roan  of  toe, 
And  wytb.  botize  hoiwcs  a  mjghtie  blowe  he 

fcnre 

At  Alfwonldes  hezd,apbard  as  bee  coeW  dree; 
But  on  by*  paynded  fttdde  fo  bifinarlie 
AQaunte  his  fwtrde  did  go  ynto  the  grounde  ;, 
Thep  Alfwould  him  attack'd  moft  fury  Onflie, 
Attrowe  hjs  gaberdyBe  hee  dyd  him  wooode, 
Then  foorte  agayne  hys  fwerde  hee  dyd  upryne 
And  clove  bis  nrdle  and  fpit  bjm  to  the  cyrte. ;  30 

»  *  #  •  * 

ONN  OURE  LADIES  CHYRCHE. 

.s  «tn  a  hjrlle  on  evefittynge, 

.t  core  La<ite'»  Cbjrche  inoncbe  tnmdcryn  je,( 

'he  couirjBgck.AndiewOTkefp.fTne, 

iaii  well  nigbc  dazekd  tsaac  ev&e  ; 

>nod  I ;  fome  covnynge  fair ie  bande 


A* 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTERTON. 


Full  well  I  vvote  fo  fine  a  fyghte 

Was  ne  yreer'd  of  mortall  wighte. 

Qvod  Trouthe  ;  thou  lackeft  knowlachynge ; 

Thou  forfoth  ne  wotteth  of  the  thynge. 

A  rev'rend  fadrc,  William  Canynge  night, 

Yreered  uppe  this  chapelle  brighte  ; 

And  eke  another  in  the  towne, 

Where  glaffie  bubblynge  Trymme  doth  roun. 

Quod  I ;  ne  doubte  for  all  he's  given 

Hisfowle  will  ccrtes  goe  to  heaven. 

Yea,  quod  Trouthe;  than  goe  thou  home, 

And  fee  thou  doe  as  hee  hath  donne. 

Quod  I ;  I  doubte,  that  can  ne  bee ; 

I  have  ne  gotten  markes  three.  [foe  ; 

Quod  Trouthe ;  as  thou  haft  got,  give  almes-dcde* 

Canynges  and  Gaums  culde  doe  ne  moe. 

T,  R. 

ON  THE  SAME. 

STAY,  curyous  traveller,  and  pafs  not  bye, 
Until  this  fetive  pile  aflpunde  thine  eye. 
Whole  rocks  on  rocks  with  yron  joynd  furveie, 
And  okes  with  okes  entremed  difponed  lie. 
Thismightie  pile, that  keepesthe  wyndesat  baie, 
Fyre-levyn  and  the  mokie  ftorme  defie, 
That  ihootes  aloofe  into  the  reaulmes  of  daie,  • 
Shall  be  the  record  of  the  buylders  fame  for  aie. 

Thou  feeft  this  mayftrie  of  a  human  hand, 
The  pride  of  Bryftowe  and  the  wefterne  lande, 
Yet  is  the  buylders  yertues  much  moe  grcete, 
Greeter  than  can  bie  Rowlies  pen  be  fcande. 
Thou  feeft  the  fayndtes  and  kynges  in  ftonen 

ftate,  [pande, 

That  feemd  with  breath  and  human  foule  dif- 

As  payrde  to  us  enfeem  thefe  men  of  ftate, 

Such  is  greete  Canynge's  myndc  when  payrd  to 

God  elate. 

Wrell  maieft  thou  be  aftound,  but  view  it  well; 

Go  not  from  hence  before  thou  fee  thy  fill, 
.   And  learn  the  builder's  vertues  and  his  name ; 

Of  this  tall  fpyre  in  every  county e  telle, 

And  with  thy  tale  the  lazing  rych  men  fhame; 

Showe  howe  the  glorious  Canynge  did  excelle  ; 

How  hee,  good  man,  a  friend  for  kynges  became, 
And  gloryous  paved  at  once  the  way  to  heaven 
and  fame. 

EPITAPH  ON  ROBERT  CANYNGE. 
THYS  mornynge  ftarre  of  Radcleves  ryfyn«re 

raie>  [hyghte, 

A  true  manne  good  of  mynde  and  Canynge 
Benethe  thys  Hone  lies  moltrynge  ynto  claie, 
TJntylle  the  darke  tombe  fheene  an  eterne  lyghte. 
Thyrde  fromme  hys  loynes  the  prefent  Canynge 

came  ; 

Houton  are  wordes  for  to  telle  hys  doe ; 
For  aye  fhall  lyve  hys  heaven-recorded  name, 
Ne  (hall  yt  dye  v,  hanne  tyme  ftialle  bee  no  rnoe; 
Whanne  Mychael's  trumpe  fliall  founde  to  rife 

the  folle, 

He'll  wypge  to  heayn  wyth  kynne,  and  happie 
bee  hys  dplle. 

THE  STORIE  OF  WILLIAM  CANYNGE. 
AN  INT  a  brooklctte  as  I  laic  reclynd, 
Lifteyngc  to  htarc  the  water  glyde  al'ongc, 


Myndeynge   how   thorowe    the    grene  races  yt 

twynd, 

Awhilft  the  cavys  refpons'd  yts  mottring  fonge, 
At  dyftaunt  ryfyng  Avonne  to  he  fped, 
Amenged  wyth  ryfyng  hylles  dyd  Ihewe  yts  head ; 

Engarlanded  wyth  crownes  of  ofyer  weedes 
And  wraytes  pf  alders  of  a  bercie  fcent, 
And  ftickeynge  out  wyth  clowde  agefted  reedes, 
The  hoarie  Avonne  fhow'd  dyre  femblamente. 
Why  left  blataunt  Severne,  from  Sabryna  clepde, 
Rores  fiemie  o'er  the  fandes  that  fhe  hepde. 

Thefe    eynegears    fwythyn    bringethe    to    mie 

thowghte, 

Of  hardie  champyons  knowen  to  the  floude, 
How  onne  the  bankes  thereof  brave  Mile  foughte, 
JElle  defcended  from  Merce  kynglie  bloude, 
Warden  of  Bryftowe  towne  and  caftel  ftede, 
Who  ever  and  anon  made  Danes  to  blede. 

Methoughte  fuch  doughtie  menn  muft  have  a. 

fprighte 

Dote  yn  the  armour  brace  that  Mychael  bore, 
Whan  he  wyth  Satan  kynge  of  helle  dyd  fyghtc, 
And  earthe  was  drenfed  yn  a  mere  of  gore  ; 
Orr,  foone  as  theie  dyd  fee  the  worldis  lyghte, 
Fate  had  wrott  downe,  thys  maim  ys  borne  ta 

fyghte. 

JElle,  I  fayd,  or  els  my  mynde  dyd  faie, 
Whie  ys  thy  aclyons  left  fo  fpare  yn  ftorie  ? 
Were  I  toe  difpone,  there  fhould  lyvven  aie 
In  erthe  and  hevenis  rolles  thie  tale  of  glorie  ; 
Thie  actes  foe  doughtie  fhould  for  aie  abyde, 
And  bie  theyre  telte  all  after  adles  be  tryde. 

Next  holie  Wareburghus  fylld  mie  mynde, 
As  fayre  a  fayn<fte  as  anie  towne  can  boafte, 
Or  bee  the  erthe  wyth  lyghte  or  merke  ywryndcf 
1  fee  hys  ymage  waulkeyng  throwe  the  coafte : 
Fitz  Hardy nge,  Bithrickus,  and  twentie  moe 
Ynn  vifyonn  fore  mie  phantafie  dyd  goe. 

Thus  all    mie    wandrynge    faytour  thynkeynge 

ftrayde, 

And  eche  dygne  buylder  dequac'd  onn  mie  mynde, 
Whan  from  the  diftaunt  ftreeme  arofe  a  mayde, 
Whofe  gentle  trefles  mov'd  not  to  the  wynde ; 
Lyche  to  the  fylver  moone  yn  froftie  neete, 
The  damoilelle  dyd  come  foe  blythe  and  fweete. 

Ne  browded  mantell  of  a  fcarlette  hue, 

Ne  fhoone  pykes  plaited  o'er  wyth  ribbande  geere, 

Ne  coftlie  paraments  of  woden  blue, 

Noughte  of  a  dreffe,  but  bewtie  dyd  fhee  weere  ; 

Naked  fhee  was,  and  loked  fwete  of  youthe, 

All  dyd  bewryen  that  her  name  was  Trouthe. 

The  ethie  ringletts  of  her  notte-browne  hayre 
What  ne  a  manne  fhould  fee  dyd  fwotelie  hyde, 
Whych  on  her  milk-white  bodykin  fo  fayre 
Dyd  fhowe  lyke  browne  ftreemes  fowlyng  the; 

v.-hite  tyde, 

Or  veynes  of  brown  hue  yn  a  marble  cuarr, 
Whyche  by  the  traveller  ys  kcnu'd  from  farr. 

Aftounded  mickle  there  I  fylente  laie, 
,  Still  fcauncing  wondrous  at  the  walkynge  fyghte  j 
Mie  fenfes  forgarde-ne  coulde  reyn  awaie; 
Eut  was  ne  forftraughte  whan  fhe  dyd  alyghtc 


POEMS. 


371 


Anle  to  mee,  drefte  up  yn  naked  viewc, 
Whych.mote  yn  fome  ewbrycious  thoughtes  a- 

brcwe. 

But  I  ne  dyd  once  thynke  of  wanton  thoughte  ; 
For  well  I  myndcd  what  bie  vowe  I  hcte, 
And  yn  mie  pockate  han  a  crouchee  broughte, 
Whych  yn  the  blofom  woulde  fuch  fins  anete ; 
1  lok'd  wyth  eyne  as  pure  as  angelks  doe,- 
And  dyd  the  everie  thoughte  of  foule  efchewe. 

Wyth  fweet  feniblate  and  an  angel's  grace 

Shee  'gan  to  lecture  from  her  gentle  brefte ; 

For  'i'routhis  wordes  ys  her  myndes  face, 

Falfe  oratoryes  fhe  dyd  aie  deteft* ; 

Sweetnefle  was  yn  eche  worde  fhe  dyd  ywreenc, 

Tho  fhe  ftrove  not  to  make  that  fweetnefie  fheene. 

Shee  fayd  ;  mie  manner  of  appereynge  here 

Mie  name  and  fleyghtcd  myndbruch  maie  thee 

tclle ;  [were, 

I'm  Trouthe,  that  dyd  defcende  fromm  heaven- 
Goulers  and  courtiers  doe  not  kenne  mee  welle  ; 
Thie  inmofte  thoughtes,  thie  labryngc  brayne  I 

fawe, 
And  from  thie  gentle  dreeme  will  thee  adawe. 

Full  manic  champyons  and  menne  of  lore, 
Payncters  and  carvellers  have  gaind  good  name, 
But  there's  a  Canynge,  to  encreafe  the  ftorc, 
A  Canynge,  who  fhall  buie  uppc  all  theyre  fame. 
Take  thou  mie  power,  and  fee  yn  chylde  and  manne 
What  troulie  nobleneffe  yn  Canynge  ranne. 

As  when  a  bordelier  onn  ethie  bedde, 

Tyr'd  wyth  the  laboures  maynt  of  fweltrie  daie, 

Yn  flepeis  bofom  laieth  hys  deft  headde, 

So,  fenfes  fonke  to  reftc,  mie  boddie  laie ; 

Eftfoons  mie  fprighte,  from  erthlie  bandes  untyde, 

Immengde  yn  flanched  ayre  wyth  trouthe  afyde. 

Strayte  was  I  carryd  back  to  tymes  of  yore, 
Why  1ft  Canynge  fwathed  yet  yn  flefhlie  bedde, 
And  faw  all  aflyons  whych  han  been  before, 
And  all  the  fcroll  of  fate  unravelled  ; 
And  when  the  fate-mark'd  babe  acome  to  fyghte, 
I  faw  hym  eager  gafpynge  after  lyghtc. 

In  all  hys  fhcpen  gambols  and  chyldes  plaie, 

In  everie  merriemakeyng,  fayre  or  wake, 

I  kenn'd  a  perpled  lyghte  of  wyfdom's  raie  ; 

He  cate  downe  karnynge  wyth  the  waftle  cake. 

As  wife  as  anie  of  the  eldermenne, 

He'd  wytte  enowc  toe  make  a  mayre  at  tenne. 

As  the  duke  downie  barbe  beganne  to  gre, 
So  was  the  well  thyghte  texture  of  hy«  lore  ;  — 
Eche  daie  enhedeynge  mockler  for  to  bee, 
Greete  yn  hys  councel  for  the  daies  he  bore. 
All  tongues,  all  carrols  dyd  unto  hym  fynge, 
Wondryng  at  one  foe  wyfe,  and  yet  foe  yinge. 

Encreafeynge  yn  the  yeares  of  mortal  lyfe, 
And  hafteynge  to  hys  journie  ynto  heaven, 
Hee  thoughte  ytt  proper  for  to  cheefe  a  wyfe, 
And  ufe  the  fexes  for  the  purpofe  gevene. 
Hee  then  was  yothe  of  comelie  femelikeede, 
And  hce  had  made  a  mayden's  herte  to  blede. 

He  had  a  fader,    Jefus  r.'ft  hys  foule) ! 
"Who  loved  money,  as  hys  charie  joie; 
Hee  had  a  broder  (happie  manne  be's  dole)  ! 
Yn  mynde  and  boddie,  hys  owne  fadre's  bok ; 


What  then  could  Canynge  wifTcn  as  a  part? 
To  gyve  to  her  wlioe  had  made  chop  of  htartc  ? 

But  landes  and  caftle  tenures,  golde  and  bighes, 
And  hoardes  of  fylver  roufted  yn  the  ent, 
Canynge  and  hys  fayre  fweete  dyd  that  defpyfe, 
To  change  of  troulie  love  was  theyr  content ; 
Theie  lyv'd  togedei  yn  a  houfe  adygne,  i 

Of  goode  fendaununt  commilie  and  fyne. 

But  foone  hys  broder  and  hys  fyre  dyd  die, 
And  lefte  to  Willyam  dates  and  renteynge  rolle?, 
And  at  hys  wyll  hys  broder  Johne  fupplie. 
Hee  gave  a  chauntrie  to  redeeme  theyre  foules; 
And  put  hys  broder  ynto  fyke  a  trade,         ;  made. 
That  he  lorde  mayor  of  Londonne  town.:   wai 

Eftfoons  hys  mornynge  tournd  to  gloomie  nyghte ; 
Hys  dame,  hys  feconde  felfe'  gyve  upp  her  brethe, 
Seekeynge  for  eterne  lyfe  and  endlcfs  lyghte, 
And  flecd  good  Canynge ;  fad  myllake  of  dethe ! 
Soe  have  I  feen  a  flower  yna  fornmer  tyme 
Trodde  downe  and  broke  and  widder  ynn  ytts 

pryme. 
Next  Radcleeve  chyrche  (oh  worke  of  hande  cf 

heav'n, 

Whare  Canynge  fheweth  as  an  inftrumente), 
Was  to  my  bifmarde  eyne-fyghte  newlie  giv'n ; 
'Tis  paft  to  blazonne  ytt  to  good  contente. 
You  that  woulde  faygn  the  fetyve  buyldynge  fee 
Repayre  to  Radclcve,  and  contented  bee. 

I  fawe  the  myndbruch  of  hys  nobille  foule 
Whan  Edwarde  meniced  a  feconde  wyfe ; 
I  faw  what  Pheryons  yn  hys  mynde  dyd  rolle ; 
Nowe  fyx'd  fromm  feconde  dames  a  preeftc  for 

lyfe. 

Thys  ys  the  manne  of  menne,  the  vifion  fpokc; 
Then  belle  fpr  cven-fonge  mie  fenfes  woke. 

ON  HAPP1ENESSE. 

BY    WILLIAM    CANYNGE. 

MAIE  Selyneffe  on  erthes  boundes  bee  hadde  ? 
Maie  yt  adyghte  yn  human  ftiape  bee  founde  ? 
Wote  yee,  ytt  was  wyth  Edin's  bower  beftadde, 
Or  quite  eraced  from  the  fcaunce-layd  groundc. 
Whan  from  the  fecret  fontes  the  waterres  dyd 

abounde  ? 

Does  yt  agrofed  fliun  the  bodyed  waulke, 
Lyve  to  ytfclf,  and  to  yttesecchoe  taulke  ? 

All  haylc,  Contente,  thou  mayde  of  turtk-eyne, 
As  thie  behoulders  thynke  thou  arte  iwreene, 
To  ope  the  doi  e  to  Selynefle  ys  thyae, 
And  Chryflis  glorie  doth  upponne  thee  fheene. 
Doer  of  the  foule  thynge'nc  hath  thce  feene  ; 
In  caves,  vnn  wodes,  ynn  woe,  and  dok  dittreffe, 
Whocre  hath  thee  hath  gotten  Schncfle. 

ONN  JOHNE  A  DALBENIE. 

BV   THE    SAMK. 

TOKNE  makes  a  Jarre  boute  Lancafter  and  Yorke; 
Bee  ftille,  gode  manne,  and  karne  to  mynde  thie 
worke. 

THE  GOULER'S  REQUIEM. 

BY  THE   SAME. 

Mil  boolie  entes,  adieu :  ne  nioc  the  fyghte 
Of  guildcn  make  lhall  mete  mie  joicous  eync, 


THE  WORKS    OF  CHATTERTQN. 


J4e  moe  the  fylver  noble  fheenynge  bryghte 
Schali  fyll  mie  honde  with  weight  to  Ipeke  ytt 

fyne ; 

Ne  moe,  ne  moe,  alafs !  I  call  you  myne : 
"Whydder  muft  you,  ah !  whedder  muft  I  goe  ? 
I  kenn  not  either  ;  oh  mie  emmers  dygne, 
To  parte  wyth  you  wyll  vvurcke  me  myckle  woe ; 
I  muite  be  gonne,  botte  whare  I  dare  ne  tclle ; 
O  ftorthe  unto  mie  mynde  !  1  goc  to  helle. 

Soone  as  the  morne  dyd  dyghte  the  roddie  funne, 
A  (hade  of  theves  eche  ftreake  of  lyght  dyd 

feeme ; 
Whann  ynn  the  heavn  full  half  hys  courfe  was 

runn, 

Eche  ftirryng  nayghbour  dyd  mie  harte  afleme ; 
Thye  lofs,.or  quyck  or  flepe,  was  aie  mie  dreme; 
,  For  thee,  O  gould,  I  dyd  the  lawe  ycrafe ; 
For  thee  I  gotten  or  bic  wiles  or  breme  ; 
Y»n  thee  I  all  mie  joie  and  good  dyd  j>lace ; 


Botte  now  to  mee  thie  pleafaunce  ye  ne  moe* 
thee  I  to  the  a 


ACCOUNTE  OF  W.  CANYNGES  FEAST. 

THOROWE  the  halle  the  belle  han  founde ; 
ByeJecoyle  doe  the  grave  befeeme ; 
The  ealdermenne  doe  fytte  arounde, 
An-de  fnoffelle  oppe  the  cheorte  fteemc. 
Lyche  affes  wylde  ynne  defarte  wafte 
Swotelye  the  morneynge  ayre  doe  taftc. 

Syke  keene  theie  ate ;  the  minftrels  plaie, 

The  dynne  of  angelles  doe  -theie  keepe ; 

Hek  flylle  the  gueftes  ha  ne  to  iaie, 

Butte  nodde  yer  thankes  ande  falle  aflape. 

Thus  echone  daie  bee  I  to  deene, 

Gyf  Rowley,  Ifcanun,  or  Tyb.  Gorges  be  ne  £een& 


A  GLOSS  ART 

OF  UNCOMMON  WORDS. 


IN  the  following  gloffary,  the  explanations  of 
Words  by  Chatterton,  at  the  bottom  of  the  £eye- 
ral  pajjes,  are  drawn  together,  and  digefled  al 
phabetically,  with  the  letter  C.^after  each  of  them. 
But  it  fhould  be  obferved,  that  thefe  explanations 
are  not  to  be  admitted  but  with  great  caution  ;  u 
confiderable  number  of  them  be^ng  (as  far  as  the 
editor  can  judge)  unfupported  by  authority  or 
analogy.  The  explanations  of  fome  other  words, 
omitted  by  Chatterton,  have  beeH  added  by,  the 
editor,  where  the  mcanyig  of  the  writer  was  fuf- 
ticiently  clear,  and  the  word  itfelf  did  not  recede, 
too  far  from  the  eftabliltyed  ufage ;  but  he  has  been 
obliged  to  leave  many  o'thers  for  the  confideration 
•f  more  learned  or  more  Sagacious  interpreter;* 

EXPLANATION  OF  THE  LETTERS  OF 
REFERENCE. 

for  JKlla,  a.  Tragical  Enterlude.^ 
—  Th'e  Deihe  of  Syr  C.  Baivdin. 
Balade  of  Qharitie. 
Eclogue  tbef.rjl. 
Eclogue  tbefecond. 
Eclogue  the  third. 
Elinoure  end  Juga.    . 
Efitro'Jufijonne  to  JEtta, 
Epijlle  to  M.  Canynge. 
GoJdtvyn,  a  TrageJie, 
Battle  of  Hajlings,  No.  I. 
Battle  of  Haftiiigs,  No.  J. 
Letter  tt  M.  Canynge. 
Euglyjb  Metamo^bojls, 
Prologue  is  Goddivyn. 
Tournament. 

A. 

t,  E.  III.  humility.     C. 
Aborne,  T.  burnijbed.     ^. 
Abounde,  H.  I.  _  . 
Aboune,  G.  make  ready.      C. 
Atredynge,  JE.  upbraiding.     C. 
Abrewe,  as  bre-w. 
Abrodden,  E.  I.  abruptly.    C. 
Acale,  G.  freeze.     C. 
Accaie,  J£>.  aj/uage.     C. 
Achmeqts,  T.  atcjiievvnerJs,    C* 


Achekc,  G..  clolt.    C. 

Achevments,  J£.  fervices.     C* 

Acpme,  as  tame. 

Acrool,  El.  faintly.     C. 

Adave,  H.  a. 

Adawe,  a-walc. 

Addawd,  H.  z. 

Adente,  M.  fijltned.    C.    • 

Adented,  G.  fafleaed,  annexed.     C. 

Aderne,  H.  2.    Sec  Dernf,  Dtrnle, 

Adigne.     See  adygnf. 

Adrames,  Ep.  churls.     C. 

Adventaile,  T.  armour.     C. 

Advgne,  Le.  nervous;  worthy  offraifc.     C. 

AfFynd,  H.  I.  related  liy  marriage. 

Afleme,  zsfcme;  to  drive  away,  to  affright. 

After  la  gour«,  H.  2.  Ihould  probably  b«  a/trefa 

gotir ;  aftrologer. 
Agrame,  G.  grievance.     C. 
Agreme,  JE,.  torture.     C. — G.  grievance.     C. 
Agrofed,  as  agrifed;  terrified. 
Agroted,  M.    See  Grated. 
Agylted,  &.  offended.     C. 
Aidens,  JE.  aidance. 
Ake,  E.  II.  oak.     C. 
Alans,  H.  5.  bounds. 
Alatche,  J&. 
Aledge,  G.  idly.     C. 
Aleft,  &.  left. 

All  a  boon,  E.  III.  a  manner  of  *<king  ifaveur,     C. 
Alleyn,  E.  I.  only.     C. 
Aimer,  Ch.  beggar.     C. 
Alufte,  H.I.     • 

Alyne,  T.  acroft  bisjhauldlts.     C. 
Alyfe,  Le.  allow.     C. 
Amate,  M.  defray.     C. 
Amavld,  E.  II.  enamelled.     C. 
Ameded,  &.  re^vanifd. 
Amcnged,  as  menged ,  mixed. 
Amenufed,  E.  IL  diminifoed.    C. 
Amield,  T.  ornamsnie/t,  enamelled,     <J( 
Anente,  JE.  againjl.     C. 
Anere,  ^E.  another.     C. 
Anete, 

Anic,  zsnie;  nigh. 
Anlace,  G.  an  ancient  f-word.     t?£ 
JE.  giing  before. 


574 


GLOSSARY. 


Applings,  E.  I.  graflid  tries.     C. 

Arace,  G.  divejl.     C. 

Arift,  Ch.  aroft.     C. 

Arrowe-lede,  H.  I. 

Afcaunce,  E.  III.  difdainfully.     C. 

Afenglave,  H.  i. 

Aflcaunted,  I.e. 

Aflee,  JE. 

Aflekd,  E.  III.  a»fwered.     C. 

Asflliewed,  Ch.  accurfed,  unfortunate.     C. 

Affvvaie,  JE. 

Aftedde,  E.\l.  feated.     C. 

Aftende,  G.  ajtonijb.     C. 

Aftorte,  G.  ntghaid.     C. 

Aftoun,  E.  II.  o/ionijbed.     C. 

Aflounde,  M    afonijl.     C. 

Af\de,  perhaps  ajlyde ;  afcended. 

Athur,  H.  2.  as  tburgb ;  thorough. 

Attene*,  M.  at  once.     C. 

Attoure,  T.  turn.    C. 

Attoure,  JE.  around. 

Ave,  H  2.  for  eau.  Fr.  water. 

Aumere,  Ch.  a  loofe  robe  or  mantle.     C. 

Aumercs,   E.  III.  horde  >  s  of  gold  andftlver,  &C.     C. 

Aunture,  H.  ^   as  avtnture;  adventure. 

Autremete,  Ch.  a  loofe  white  robe  -worn  by  pritjls,    C. 

Awhaped,  JE.  ajlonijbed.     C. 

Aynewarde,  Ch.  back-wards.     C. 

B. 

Bankes,  T.  benclet. 
Barb'd  hall,  JE. 

Barbed  horfe,  JE.  covered  with  armour. 
Baren,  JE.  for  barren. 
Barganette  E.  III.  a.  fang  or  ballad.     C. 
Bataunt,  Ba. 

Battayles,  JE.  boats, Jbipt.    Fr. 
Batten,  G.  fatten.     C. 
Battent,  T.  loudly.    C. 
Battently,  G.  loud  roaring.     C.  . 
Battone,  H.  I.  teat  -witb/icks.    Fr. 
Baubels,  Ent.  jewels.     C. 
Bawfin,  X.  large.     C. 
Bayre,  E.  H.  trow.     C. 
Behefte,  G.  command.     C. 
Behight,  H.  ^. 
Behylte,  JE.  promifed.     C. 
Belent,  H.  a. 
Beme,  JE.  trumpet. 
Bemente,  E.  I.  lament.     C. 
Benned,  JE.  curfed,  tormented.     C. 
Benymmynge,  P.  G.  bereaving.     C. 
Bercie 

Berne,  JE    clild.     C. 
Berten,  T.  -vcntmout.    C. 
Befeies,  T.  becomes.    C. 
Befprente,  T.  pattered.     C. 
Beftadde, 
Beftanne,  JE. 
Befted,  H.  ^. 

Befloiker,  JE.  deceiver.     C. 
Beftreynts,  H.  z. 
Bete,  G.  bid.     C. 

Betrafled,  G.  deceived,  imfofed  on.     C. 
Betrafte,  ^E.  hetrayed.     C. 
Betreinted,  H.  2. 

Bevyle,  E.  II.  break.  A  herald  term,ftgnify!ng  a/pear 
broken  in  tilting.      C. 

Bewrate,  H. ». 


Bewrecke,  G.  rcving*.     C. 

Bewreen,  JE.  exprefs.    C. 

Bewryen,  Le.  declared,  exprejjtd.     C. 

Bewryne,  G.  declare.     C. 

Bewrynning,  T.  declaring.     C. 

Bighes,  JE.  jewels.     C. 

Birlette,  E.  III.  a  hood  or  covering  for  tbt  batk  fart  ef 

the  bead.     C. 
Bifmarde. 

Blake,  JE.  tialid.     C. 
Blakied,  E.  III.  naked, orig Intl.     C. 
Blanche,  JE.  white ,  pure. 
Blaunchie,  E.  II    white.     C. 
Blatauntlie,  JE.  loudly.     C. 
Blente,  E.  111.  ceafed,  dead.      C. 
Blethe,  T.  bleed.     C. 
Blynge,  JE.  ceafe.     C. 
Blyn.E.  II.  ceafe^Jiandfill.     C. 
Boddekin,  JE.  body,fubjlance.     C. 
Boleynge,  M.  fivtlling,     C. 

BollengersandCottes,E.II.  different  kinds  of  boats.  C, 
Boolie,  E.  1    beloved.      C. 
Bordel,  E.  III.  cottage.     C. 
Bordelier,  JE.  Cottager. 
Borne,  T.  JE.  burnijb.     C. 
Boun,  E.  II.  make  ready.     C. 
Bounde,  T.  ready.     C. 
Bourne,  JE. 
Bouting  matche, 

Bowke,  T. — Bowkie,  G.  lody.     C. 
Brafteth,  G.  burjletb.     C. 
Brayd,  G.  dif  layed.     C. 
Brayde,  JE. 
Breme,  fubjl.  G.  Jtrengtb.     C. 

adj.  E.  II.  Jtnng.     C. 

Brende,  G.  turn,confume.     G. 
Bretful,  Ch.  filed  with.     C. 
Broched,  H.  2.  pointed. 
Brondeous,  E.  II  furious,     C, 
.Browded,  G.  embroidered.     C. 
Brynnyng,  JE.  declaring.     C. 
Burled,  M.  armed.     C. 
Burlie  bronde,  G.  fury,  anger.     C. 
Bvelecoyle,  bel-acueil.  Fr.  the  name  of  a  perfonage 
in  the  Roman  de  la  Jtofe,  which  Chaucer  has  ren- 
dered  fair-welcoming. 
Byker,  JE.  tattle. 
Bykrous,  M.  -warring.     C. 
Byfmare,  M.  tewi'dered,  curious,     C. 
Byfmarelie,  Le.  curioufy.    C. 

C. 

Calc,  JE.  cold. 
Calkc,  G.  cajt.     C. 
Calked,  E.I.  caflout.     C. 
Caltyfning,  G.  forbidding.     C. 
Carnes,  /E".  rocks, Jl»ncs.    Brit.  •£ 

Caftle-ftede,  G.  a  cajlle.     C. 
Caties,  H.  7..  fates. 
Caytifned,  JE.  binding,  enforcing.     C. 
Celnefs,  JE. 
Chafe,  JE.  hot.     C. 
Chaftes,  G.  beats, ffamft.     C. 
Champion,  v.  P.  G.  challenge.     C. 
Chaper,  E.  III.  dry, fun-burnt.     C. 
Chapournette,  Ch.  afmall  round  hat, 
Chefe,  G.  beat,  raffonefs.      C. 
Chelandree!  /E.  gvldfincb,    G. 
Cheorte, 


GLOSSARY. 


Cherifaunce,  Ent.  comfort.    C. 

Cherifaunied,  JE.  perhaps  cbvrifaunced, 

Cheves,  Ch.  msves.    C. 

Chevy  led,  Ent.  preferred.   C. 

Chirckynge,  M.  a  confi/fed  noife.    C. 

Church-glebe-houfe,  Ch.  grave.    C. 

Cleme,  E.  II   found.    C. 

Clergyon,  P.  G.  clerk,  or  clergyman.    C. 

Clergyon'd,  Ent.  taught.    C. 

Clevis,  H.  a. 

Cleyne,  JE. 

Clinic,  H.  i.- 

Cloude-agefted. 

Clymmynge,  Ch.  noify.   C. 

Coiltrell,  H.  2. 

Compheeres,  M.  companions.    C. 

Congeon,  E.  III.  dwarf.    C. 

Contake,  T.  tilfpttte.    C. 

Conteins,  H.  i.  for  contents. 

Conteke,  E.  II.  confufe,  contend  <iuitfr.    C, 

Contekions,  JE.  contentions.    C. 

Cope,  Ch.  a.  cloke.    C. 

Corven,  JE.  See  yceriien. 

Cotte,  E.  II.  cut. 

Cottes,  E.  II    See  bollengers. 

Coupe,  E.  II.  cut.   C. 

touraciers,  T.  borfe-courfers.  C. 

Coy  en,  JE.  coy.  q  ? 

Cravent,  E.  III.  coward.   C. 

Creand,  JE.  as  recreand. 

Crine,  JE  hair.   C. 

Croched,  H.  2.  perhaps  bracked. 

Croche,  v.  G.  crofs.  -C. 

Crokynge,  JE.  bending. 

Crofs- ftone»  JE,.  monument.   C. 

Cuarr,  quarry,  q  ? 

Cullis-yatte,  E.  I.  portcullifgate.   C; 

Curriedowe,  G.  flat t erfr.   C. 

Cuyen  kine,  E.  I.  tendei  c»<ws.   C. 

D. 

DareyngCj  G.  attempt,  endeavour.   C.    ' 
Declynie,  H  i;  declination,  q  ? 
Dccorn,  E.  II.  carved.  C. 
Deene,  E  II.  glorious,  -worthy.  Ci 
Deere,  E.  III.  dire.   C. 
Defs,  M .  vapours,  meteors.  C« 
Defayte,  G.  decay.   C. 
Defte,  Ch.  neat,  ornamental.  C.  . 
Deigned,  E.  III.  difdained.   C. 
Delievretie,  T.  aHivity.   G. 
Demafing,  H.  I. 
Dente,  IE..  See  adente. 
Dented,  JE,.  See  adented. 
Denwere,  G.  doubt.  C. — M.  tremour.  C. 
Dequace,  G.  mangle,  deftroy.   C. 
Dequaced. 

Dere,  Ep.  hurt,  damage.  C. 
Derkynnes,  JE.  young  deer,  q  ? 
Derne,  JE. — H.  2. 
Dernie,  E.  I.  'woeful,  lamentable.   C. 

M.  cruel.  C. 

Deflavate,  H.  a. 
Deflavatie,  JE.  letcbery.   C. 
Detratours,  H.  2.  •* 

Deyfde,  JE.  f gated  on  a  dels* 
Dheie,  they. 
Dhere,  JE.  tberg. 


Dhereof,  tbefenf. 
Difficile,  ^E  difficult.   C. 
)ighte.  Ch.  dreft,  arrayed.    C. 
Jifpande,  perhaps  for  difpontd. 
Jil'pone,  dlfpofe. 
)iviniitre,  JE.  divine.  C. 
)olce,  JE.  foft,  gentle.  C. 
Dole,  n.  G.  lamentation.  C. 
)ole,  adj. 

Dolte,  Ep  foolifc.  C. 
Donde,  H.  i. 

Dotiore,  H.  i.    This  line  flioukl  probably  be  writ 
ten  thus  :  0  fea-oertet  :i:'-ig  Driver  ! 
3ortoure,  Ch.  aflceping-rooin.    C. 
Dote,  perhaps  as  dlghfe. 
Doughtre  mere,  H.  2.  d^outrt  mere ,  Fr.  From  be* 

yond 
Dree,  .Jf7. 

Drefte,  JE.  leaft.   C. 
Drented.  r-  drained^ 
Dreynted,  JE.  drowned.   C. 
Dribblet,  E.  II.  fuuill,  insignificant.   C. 
Drites,  G    rights,  liberties.    C. 
Drocke,  F.  ilrinJk.   C- 
Broke,  JE. 
Droorie,  Ep.     See  Chatterton's  note.     Dmric  «1 

courtfijip,  gallantry.. 
Drooried,  JE.  courted. 
Duke,,  as  dolce. 
Durefled, '  E.  1.  hardened.   C. 
Dyd,  H.  i.  fliou.d  probably  be"  dfght. 
Dygne,  T.  U'otti.y.    C. 
Dynning,  E.  I.  founding.  C. 
Dyiperpelteft,  JE.  Jcartereji.  C. 
Dyiporte,  E.  I.  pleafurt'.   C. 
Dylportifment,  JE.  as  difporte.  • 
Dylregate,  JE: 

E. 

Edraw,  H.  2.  for  ydraiv,  draw. 
Eft,  £.  II.  often.  C. 
Eftfoones,  E.  III.  quickly.    C. 
Eie,  M.  help    C. 
Eletten,  JE.  enlighten.    C. 

Eke,  E.  I.  alfo.    C. 

Emblaunched,  E.  I.  whitened.    C. 

Embodycle,  E  I.  ibick,jt6ut.   C. 

Embowre,  G.  lodge.   C.   • 

Emburled,  E.  II.  armed.  C. 

Emmate,  JE.  le/en,  decreafe.   C.  . 

Emmers. 

Eminertleyng,  M.  glittering.   C. 

Enalfej  G.  embrace.    C. 

Encaled,  JE.  frozen,  coll.  C. 

Enchafed,  M.  beated,  enraged,   C. 

Engyne,  JE.  tcrtvre. 

Enheedynge. 

Enlowed,  JE.  flamed,  fired.  C. 

Enrone,  JE. 

tnfeme,  ^E.  to  make  fearns  in.  q  ? 

Enfeeming,  JE;  isfeemi/ig. 

Enflioting,  T.  Jbootmg,  darting.    C. 

Enftrote,  H.  2. 

Enfwote,  JE.  fweetcn.  q  ? 

Enfwolters.  JE.  f wallows,  facks  in.   C 

Enfyrktj  encircle. 

Ent,  E.  III.  a  pur",-  or  bag.   C. 

Entendement,  JS..  usderjlandi/ig. 
'  A  iiij 


GLOSSARY. 


Enthoghteing,  JE. 

Entremed. 

Entrykeynge,  JE.  as  tricking: 

Entyn,  P.  G.  even.    C. 

Eftande,  H.  ^.  fot  yftande,  ftand. 

Eflells,  E  II.  A  corruption  of  efloile ,  Fr.  a  ftar.  C. 

Eftrowghted,  J£. 

Ethe,  E.  III.  eaff.   C. 

Ethie,  eafy. 

Evalle,  E.  III.  equal.   C. 

Evefpeckt,  T.  marked  with  evening  dew.   C.    , 

Ewbrire,  JEv  adultery.   C. 

Evtfbrycious,  lafcimous. 

Eyrie-gear's. 

F. 

Tage,  Ep.  tale,  jeft.   C. 
Faifully,  T.  faithfully.    C. 
Faitour,  Ch.  a  beggar,  or  vagabond.   C. 
Faldftole,  IE.,  a  folding  ftool,  or  feat.     See  Du 

Cange  in  v.  Faldittorium. 
Fayre,  JE.  clear,  innocent. 
Feere,  JE.  Jirc. 
Feerie,  E:  II.  jlaming.   C. 
Fele,  T.  feeble.    C. 
Pellen,  E.  I.  fell,  pa.  t.  fing.  q? 
Fetelie,  G.  "nobly. .  C. 
Tetive,  Ent/as  fejiivg. 
Fetivelie,  Le.  elegantly.    C. 
Fetivenefs,  JE-  as  fejlivenefs. 
Feygnes,  E.  III.  A  corruption  otfeititJ?  C. 
Fhuir,  G.  fury.   C. 
Fie,  T.  defy.   C. 
Flaiten,  H.  i. 
Flanched,  H.  2. 
Flemed,  T.  frighted.   C. 
Flemie. 

Fiizze,  G.  fly.    C. 
Floe,  H.  2.  arrow. 
Flott,  Ch.  fly.   C. 
Foite,  E.III.  baffle.   C. 
Fons,  fonnes,  E.  II.  devices.  G. 
Forgard,  JE.  lofe.  C.     ' 
Forletten,  El.  forfaktn.   C. 
Forloyne,  JE..  retreat.   C. 
Forreying,  T.  deftroying.   C. 
Forflagen,  JE.  Jlain.   C. 
ForHege,  JE.  ^a/.   C. 
Forftraughte,  diftraRed. 
Forftraughtey^ig,  G.  diftraR'mg.   C. 
Forfwat,  Ch.  fun-burnt.   C. 
Forweltring,  JE.  blafting.   C. 
Forwyned,  E.  III.  rfrwrf.   C. 
Fremde,  JE.  ftrange.  C. 
Fremded,  JE.  frighted:   C 
Freme,  JE. 
Fru<5lile,  JE.  fruitful. 

G. 

Gaberdine,  .T.  a  *iVre  of  armour*  C. 
Gallard,  Ch.  frighted.   C. 
Gare,  Ep.  *•««/<? .    C. 
Gaftnefs,  JE.  ghaftlinefs.  q? 
Gayne,  JE.   To  gayne,  fo  gayne  a  pryze.—Gayne 

has  probably  been  repeated  by  miflake. 
Ceare,  JE.  apparel,  accoutrement. 
•Geafon,  Ent.  rare,  C.— G.  extraordinary, Jlrange , 

C. 
«t«r,  H. 


Gcete,  JE.  as  gile*. 

Geraotc,  G.  ajfemble.    C. 

Gemoted,  E.  II.  united,  ajfemllei    C. 

Gerd,  M.  broke,  rent.   C. 

Gies,  G.  guides.   C. 

Gier,  H.  I.  a  turn,  or  ttviji. 

Gif,  E.  II.  if.    C. 

Gites,  JE.  robes,  mantels.   C. 

Glair,  H.  ^. 

Gledeynge,  M.  livid.   C. 

Glomb,  G.  frown.   C. 

Glotnmed,  Ch.  clouded,  dejefled.  C. 

Glytted,  H.  2. 

Gorne,  £.  I.  garden.   C. 

Gottes,  ^E.  drops. 

Gouler. 

Graiebarbes,  Le.  graybeards.    C- 

Grange,  E.  I.  liberty  of  pa/lure.    C. 

Gratche,  JE.  apparel.   C. 

Grave,  chief  magistrate,  mayor. 

Gravots,  E.  I.  grsves.   C. 

Gree,  E.  I.  grow.   C. 

Groffile,  JE. 

Groffifli,  JE. 

Groffynglie,  Ep.  foolifljly.   C. 

Gron,  G.  a  fen,  moor.   C.  ^ 

Gronfer,  E.  II.  a  meteor  ;  from  £  ran,  a  fen,'3ui3P 

fer,  a  corruption  of  fire.   C. 
Gronfyres,  G.  meteor  j.   C. 
Grore,  H.  2. 
Groted,  JE.  fwoln.   C. 
Gule-depeinfted,  E.  II.  red-painted.   C, 
Gule-fteyncT:,  G.  red-Jlained.  C. 
Gytteles,  JE.  mantels.   C. 


. 

Haile,  E.  III.  £a#y.  C. 
Hailie,  IE.,  as  Art//^. 
Halceld.  M.  defeated.   C^ 
Hailie,  T.  boly.  C. 
Hailie,  JE.  -wholly. 
Halline,  Ch.  joy.  C. 
Hancelled,  G.  cut  off,  dejlroyed.   C. 
Han,  JE.  hath,  q  ? 
Hanne,  JE.   b*d,  particif.  q?—JE.  bad,  fit.  ft 

/«.?•  q? 

Hantoned,  JE. 

Harried,  M.  toft.   C. 

Hatched. 

Haveth,  E.  I.  have,  Iftperf.  q? 

Heafods,  E.  II.  keadr.   G. 

Heavenwere,  G.  heavenward.   C.  - 

Hecked.  JE.  wrapped  clofely,  covered.   C. 

Heckled,  M.  wrapped.   C. 

Heie,  E.  IL  they.  C. 

Heiedeyghes,  E.  III.  a  country  dance,  ftill  pradlif* 

ed  in  the  north.   C. 
Hele,  n.  G.  help.   C. 
Hele,  v.  E.  III.  to  help.   C. 
Hem,  T.  a  contraction  of  them.  C. 
Hente,T.  grafp,bold.  C. 
Hentyll,  JE. 
Herfelle,  JE.  berfelf. 
Hefte,  JE. 

Hilted,  hiltren.  T.  bidden.   C. 
Hiltring,  Ch.  tiding.    C. 
Hoaftrie,  E.L  ias.orfutff'ffU/e.   C« 
Hatred,  JE, 


Hotnmeur,  JC. 

Hondepoint,  JE. 

Hopelen,  JE. 

Horrowe,  M.  vnfeemly,  difagreeable.  C. 

Horfe-millansr,  Gh.  Sec  C's.  note. 

Houton,  M.  hollow.   C. 

Hulrtred,  M.  bidden,  fecret.    C. 

Hufcarles,  JE.  houfe-ferva/it  s. 

Hyger,  JE.  The  flowing  of  the  tide  in  the  Severn 

was  anciently  called  the  Hygra.  Gul.  Malmefli. 

de  Pontif.  Ang.  L.  iv- 
Hylle-fyre,  JE.  a  beacon. 
Hylte,  T.  bid,  fcreened.   C^—JE.  bide.  C. 

Tape,  Ch.  ajhortfvrplice,  Stc.   C. 
Jefte,  G.  hoifed,  ratfed.   C. 
Ifrete,  G.  devour,  deflroy.    C. 
Ihanted.  E.  I.  accuftomed.   C. 
Jintle,  H.  ^.  for  gentle. 
Impeftering,  E.  J.  annoying.   C. 
Inhild,  EL  infuft.    C.   • 
Ilhad,  Le.  broken.    C. 
Jubb,  E.III.  a  bottle.    C. 
Iwreene. 

K. 

Ken,  E.  II.  fee,  difcover,  know.    <i 
Kennes,  Ep.  knows.    C. 
Keppened,  Le. 
Kifte,  Ch.  coffin.    C. 

Kivercled,  E.  III.  the  hidden  or  fecret  part.   C. 
Knopped,  M.  fa/ieited,  chained,  congealed.    C. 

JLj* 

Ladden,  H.  I. 
Leathel,  E.  I.  deadly.    C. 
Lechemanne,  IE*  pbyfician.. 
Leckedft,  H.  z. 
Leclurn,  Le.  fubjeft.    C. 
Ledlurnies,  JE.,  leStures.    C. 
Leden,  El.  decreajing.    C. 
Ledanne,  JE. 

Leege,  G.  homage,  obeyfance.    C. 
Leegefolrke,  G.  fubjeSis.    C. 
Lege,  Ep.  law.    C. 
Leggen,  M.  lejfen,  alloy.    C. 
Leggende,  M.  alloyed.    C. 
Lemanne,  JE.  tniftrefs. 
Lemes,  2E.  lights,  rays.    C. 
Lemed,  El.  glifoned.    C.  —  JE.  lighted.   C. 
Lere,  JE.—  H.  2.  feeras  to  be  put  for  leather. 
Leflel,  El.  -  bnjfj  or  hedge.    C. 
Lete,  G.JHll.    C. 

Lethal,  El.  deadly,  or  death-boding.    C. 
Lethlen,  JE.  ftill,  dead.    C. 
Letten,  JE.  church-yard.    C. 
Levynde,  El.  blafted.    C. 
Levynne,  M.  lightning.    C. 
Levyn-mylted,  JE.  lightning-melted,  q  ? 
Liefe,  JE. 
Liff,  E.  I.  tez/ 
Ligheth,  JE. 
Likand,  H.  i.  liking. 


GLOSSARY. 

Logges,  E.I.  cottages.    C. 


377 


Linge,  JEL  ^/Zaj.  C. 
L-ifled,  T.  bounded.  C. 
Lithie,  Ep.  humble.  C, 
Loafte,  ^.  /g/jp. 


C- 


Lovard's,  E.  Ill   Xa^V.    C. 
Lo\r.  G.  flame  of  fire.    C. 
Lowes,  IE.  flames.    C. 
Lowings,  Ch.  flames.    C. 
Lymmed,  M.  poll/led.    C. 
Lynch,  El.  bank.    C. 
Lyoncel,  E.  II.  younr  lion.    C. 
Lyped,  El. 

Lyffe,  T.  fport,  or  play.    Q. 
Lyfled,  JE.  bounded.    C. 

M. 

Mancas,  G.  marks.    C. 
Manchyn,  H.  ».  ajleenie,  Fr. 
Maynt,  meynte,  E.  II.  many,  greaj  numtert.    C 
Mee,  mees,  E.  I.  meadow.    Q, 
Meeded,  ^E.  rewarded.     . 
Memuine,  H.  a. 
Meniced,  menaced,  q?        j 
Mere,  G.  fofcr.    C. 
Merk-plante,  T.  night-Jbade.    C. 
Merke,  T.  dark,  gloomy.    C. 
Miefel,  JE.  myfelf. 
Mifcynette,  EL  afniall  bagpipe.    Q» 
Mift,  Ch.  )>oor,  needy.    C. 
Mitches,  EL  r«i«x.    C.' 
Mittee,  E.  II.  mighty.  .  C.   . 
Mockler,  more. 
Moke,  Ep.  much.    C. 
Mokie,  El.  black.    C. 
Mole,  Ch.  foft.    C.       . 
Mollock,  G.  wet,  moifl.    C. 
Morglaien,  M.  ^r  name  of  afwordinfome  o!4 

romasfef. 
Morthe,  JE. 

Morthynge,  EL  murdering.    C. 
Mote,  E.  I.  might.    C. 
Motte,  H.  z.  'word,  or  motto. 
Myckle,  Le.  much.    C.    • 
Myndbruch,  JE. 
Mynfter,  G.  mona/lefy.'  C. 
Myfterk,  M.  my/lie.    C. 

N. 

Ne,  P.  G.  not.    C. 
Ne,  nirb.    '      . 
Nedere,  Ep.  adder.    C. 
Neete,  night. 

Nefli,  T.  weak,  tender.   C. 
Nete,  HL.  night. 
Nete,  T.  nothing.    C. 
Milling,  Le.  unwilling.    C. 
Nome-depeinted,  E.  II.  rtbufdjiiflds  ;  a  heraM 

term,  when  the  charge  of  the  fliield  implies 

the  name  ef  the  bearer.    C. 
Notte-browne,  nut-brown. 

O, 

Obaie,  E  I.  abide.    C. 
Oflrendes,  JE.  prefects,  offerings.    C. 
Olyphauntes,  H.  2.  elephants. 
Onknowiachynge,  E.  IL  not  knowing.   C*          / 
Onlight,  JE. 

Onlift,  Le.  boueuUefs.    <L 
Orrefts,  G.  oiterfets.    C. 
Oncbd,  T.    See  C's  note. 
Ouphante,  JE.  90}  fax,  elvtt. 
Quit,  H.  « 


37* 


€LOSSARV. 


Ouzle,  M.  blacl-lird.     C. 
Owndes,  G.  waves.     C. 

P. 

Pall,  Ch.     Contraction  from  appall,  to  fright.    C. 
ParamentC,  &.  robes  offcarlct.     C.— M.  a  princely 

robe.     C. 

Paves,  Pavyes,  J£..Jbields. 
Peede.Ch././W.     C.    ' 
Penifte,  Ch.  fainted.     C. 
Pennc,  JS,.  mountain. 
Percafe,  Le.  perchance.     C. 
'Fere,  E.  I.  «  pear.    '  C. 
Perpled,/>«r/>k,  q? 
Perfant,  JE  piercing. 
Pete,  JE.. 

Pheeres,  JE.fcllatvs,  equals.     C. 
Phcon,  H.  2.  in  heraldry,  the  barbed  bead  of  a  dart. 
Pheryons. 

fi&e,EAll. figure.     C.  • 
Pighte,  'Y.  pitched,  or  bent  doivn.     C. 
Poyntel,  Le.  a  pen.     C. 
Prevyd,  /£•  hardy,  -valourous.     C. 
Proto  flene,  H.  'i.f.jl-Jlain. 
Prowe,  H.  I. 

Pynant,  Le.  pining ,  meagre, 
Pyghte,  M.  fettled.      C. 
Pyghteth,  Ep.  plucks,  or  tortures.     C. 

Quaced,  T.  vanquijbed.    .  C.  • 
Quaintiffed,  T.  curioujly  devifed.     C. 
Quanfd,  &. filled,  quentbtd.      C. 
Queede,  ./£.  <A«  «««/  o«f,  </>*  devil, 

R. 

Receivure,  G.  receipt.  '  C. 
Recer,  H.  I.  for  rater. 

Recendize,  JE.   7    [or  rmetmSeet  awar&t. 

Recrandize,  Jh.  J 

Recreand,  JE.  co-ward.     C. 

Reddour,  ^!.  "violence.     C. .  ' 

Rede,  Le.  ivifdom.     C- 

Reded,  G.  counfelled.     C. 

Redeing,  ^E.  advice. 

Regrate,  Le.  ejleem.     C.— M,  ejltem,  favour.    C. 

Rele,  n.  JE~  -wave.     C. 

Reles,  v.  E.  II.  -waves.     C. 

Rennome,  T.  honour,  glory.    C. 

Reyne,  Reine,  E.  II.  run.    C. 

Reyning,  E.  II.  running.    C. 

Reytes,  JE..  •water-flags.     C. 

Ribaude,  Ep.  rake,  leiud perfon.     C. 

Ribbande-geere,  ornaments  of  ribbands. 

Rodded,  Ch.  reddened.     C. 

Rode,  E.  I.  complexion.     C. 

Rode  ing,  JR.  riding. 

Roder,  wflE.  rider, traveller. 

Roghling,  T.  rolling.    C. 

Roin,  ^E  ruin. 

Roiend,  ^E.  ruin'd. 

Roincr,  JE,.  ruincr. 

Rou,  G.  horrid,  grim.     C. 

Rowncy,Le.  cart-borfe.     C. 

Rynde,  /E.  ruind. 

S. 

Safealus,  E.  I.  tit  devil.     C. 
Sabbatanners,  /E. 
Scalle,  JE-fiull.     C. 
Jcante,  M./carct,    C. 

H 


Scantillie,  &.fcarcely,fpanngly.     C. 
Scarpes,  JK,.fcarfs.     C. 
Seethe,  T.  hurt  or  damage.     C. 
Scille,  E.  HI  gather.     C. 
Scillye,  G.  ckjeh?     C.. 
Scolles,  M-floIfs. 
Scond,  H.  i .  for  abfcond. 
Seek,  H.  i.  lor  fuck. 
Seeled,  Ent.  clofid.    C. 
Seere,  JE.fearcb.     C. 
Selynefs,  E.  I.  bappinefi.    C. 
Semblate, 

Seme,  E.  lll.feed,    C. 
Semecope,  Ch.  afiort  under-chic.     C. 
Semmlykeed,  JE. 

Semlykeene,  JE.  countenance.     C.— G.  beauty,  coun 
tenance.     C. 
Sendaument, 
Sete,  JE.feat. 
Shappe,  T.fate.     C. 
Shap-fcurged,  JE'.fate-fcourged.     C. 
Shemring,  E.  II.  glimmering.      C. 
Shente,  T.  broke,  Jifroyed.     C. 
Shepen, 

Shepilere,E.  l.Jbepberd.     C. 
Shoone-pjkeSj^ow  -with' ptkcd tots.    -Th«  length  of 

the  pikes  was  reftrained  to  two  iaehes,  by  3 

Edw.  4.  c.  5. 
Shrove,  H.  2. 
Sletre,  JE.Jlauvbtcr. 
Slughornes,  E:  II.  a  muftcal  injlrument  not  unlit:  a 

hautboy.     C.—  T.  a  kind  of  cljrimt.      C. 
Smethe,  T.fmote.     C. 
Smething,  E.  l.fmoking.     C. 
Smore,  H.  i. 

Smothe,  Ch.Jleam  or  vapours.     C. 
Snett,  T.  tent.     C. 


Souten,  H.  i.  for  fought,    pa.  t.Jmg,    q? 

Sparre,  H.  I.  a  -wooden  bar. 

Spedde,  H.  ^. 

Spencer,  T.  difpsnfcr.    C. 

Spere,  JE. 

Spyryng,  JE.  towering. 

Staie,  H.  i. 

Starks,  T.Jlalis. 


Stent,  T.JlaineJ.     C. 

Steynced,  JE. 

Storthe. 

Storven,  JE..  dead.     C. 

Straughte,  ]£..fretcbcd.    C* 

Stret,  fc.Jlretcb.     C. 

Strev,  J£,.Jlrive. 

Stringe,  G.Jlrong.     C. 

Suftycyl,  JE. 

Swarthe,  JE. 

Swartheing,  JE. 

Swarthlefs,  H.  ^. 

Sweft-kervd,  E.  II._/W-//V</.     C.' 

Sweltering,  JE,. 

Swotie,  E.  \\.fweet.    C. 

Swythe,  Swythen,  Swythyn,  quietly,     C» 

Syke,  E  ILfucbJo.     C. 

T. 

Takelle,  T.  arrow.     C. 
Teint,  H.I,  for  tent. 


GLOSSARY. 


TV ndc,  T.  atiinJ,  tr  wait.    C. 

Tene,  JE.firra-w. 

Tentyflie,  E.  III.  ta,  efully.     C. 

Tere,  J£.  health.     C. 

Thighte. 

Thoughten,  JE.  for  thought,    pa.  t.fing.     q  ? 

THyflen,  E.  II.  tbefe,  or  tbofe.     q  ? 

Tochclod,  JE.. 

Tore,  JE.  torch.     C. 

Trechit,  H.  2.  for  tregct,  deceit. 

Treynted,  JE. 

Twyghte,  E.  II.  lucked,  pulled.     C. 

Twytte,  E.  I.fluct,  or  pull.    C. 

Tynge,  Tyngue,  tongue. 

Vz\,T.belm.     C. 

Vernage,  H.  e.  vernaccla.  Ital.  a  fort  of  rich  wine. 

Ugfomenefs,  /t.  terror.     C. 

Ugfomme,  E.  II.  terribly.     C. — JE.  terrible.     C 

Unaknell'd,  H.  I.  without  any  knell  rung  for  them,  q? 

Unburled,  JE.  unarmed.     C. 

Un<3cd,  M.  anointed.     C. 

Undelievre,  G.  unaffive.     C. 

Unenhantend,  ^E.  unacct/Jlomei?.    C. 

Unefpryte,  G.  unjpiiited.     C. 

Unhailie,  Ch.  unhappy.    C. 

Unliart,  P.  G.  unfot giving.     C. 

Unlift,  E.  III.  unbounded.     C. 

TJnlored,  Ep.  unlearned.     C. 

Unlydgefull,  JE. 

Unplayte,  6.— Unplyte,  JE.  explain.     C. 

Unquaeed,  E.  111.  unWf.     C. 

Utifprytes,  ^E.  un-foult.     C. 

UtltentyfF  G.  uncareful,  neglcfted.     C. 

Unthylle,  T.  ufelef,.     C. 

Unwere,  E.  III.  tempefl.     C. 

Volunde,  JE.  memory^  undemanding.     C.— G.  iv!U. 

C. 

Uprifte,  JE.  rifen.     C. 

Upryne,  H.  a. 

Upfwalynge,  JIL.fwellmg.    C. 

wf  • 

Walfome,  H.  a.  •wlatfomc,  loattfomn 
Wanhope,  G.  dejpair.     C. 
Wayld,  JE.  choice, /defied. 

Waylinge,  E.  II.  detreajing.    C. 


Wayne,  E.  III.  c«r.    C. 

Weef,  JE.  grief.     C. 

Welked,  E.  III.  -withtreJ.     C. 

Welkyn.  /E.  heaven.     C. 

Wifeeggcr,  E.  III.  a  pbilofopter.     C. 

Wiffen,  fc.  wi/fc. 

Wite,  G.  reieard.      C. 

W Jthc,  E.  III.  a  contraftion  of  witber.    C. 

Wolfome,  Le.     See  vmlfomt. 

Wraytes.     See  rvyto. 

Wrynn,  T.  declare.     C. 

Wurche,  jE.  wo/*.     C. 

Wychencrcf,  JE..  -witchcraft. 

Wycre,  E.  II. grief  trouble.     C. 

WympMd,  G.  m*ntledtcovertd.    Gl 

Wynnyjige,  jE. 

Y. 

Yan,  /E.  <ian. 
Yaped,  Ep.  laughable.    C. 
Yatte,  T.  that.    C. 
Yblente,  /E,  «/W«/.    C. 
Yhroched,  G.  horned.     C. 
Ycorne,  JE. 

Ycorven,  T.  to  m»uU.    C. 
Ycrafed,  T.  broken.     C. 
Yenne,  then. 
Yer,  E   II.  their. 
Yer,  j^:.  jyowr. 
Ygrove,  H.  2. 
Yinder,  jE.  yonder. 
Vh,tbit. 
Ylach'd,H.t. 
Ynhyme,  Ent.  interr.    C» 
Ynutile,  JE.  «/^/^>. 
Yreaden,  H.  2. 

Yroughte,  H.  2.  for  yiorougbttt 
Yfped,  M.  difpatcbed.     C. 
Yfpende,  T.  raj/Wir.     C. 
Yftorven   E  1.  dead.     C. 
Ytfel,  E.  I.  itfelf. 
Ywreen,  E.  II.  covered.     C. 
Ywrinde,  M.  bid,covered.     C» 
Yync,  JE.  thine. 

Z. 
Zabalui,  J£,  as  Sabalut;  the  devil. 


MISCELLANIES. 


. 
ETHELGAR, 

A  SAXON 'POEM. 

*Tis  not  for  thee,  O  man  I  t.o  murmur  at  the 

of  the  Almighty.     When  the  thunders  roar,   th 

lightnings  Ihine  oti  the  rifing  waves,  and  the  Mac. 

clouds  fit  on  the  brow  of  the  lofty  hill;  ^who  the 

protects   the    flying  deer,   fwift  as  a  fable  clone: 

toft  by  the  whittling  winds,,  leaping  over  the  roll 

ing  floods,  to   gain  the  hoary  wood  :  whiift  th 

lightnings    fliine  on  his  cheft,  and  the  wind  ride 

over  his  horns  ?  when  the  wolf  roars ;  terrible  a 

the  voice  of  the  Severn;  moving  majeftic  as  thi 

nodding  forefts  on  the  brow  of  Mich.el-ft.ow  ;  wh< 

then  commands  the  ftieep  to  follow  the  fwain,  a 

the  beams  of  light  attend  upon  the  morning  ? — 

Know,  O  man!  that  God  fufFers  not  "the  leafi 

member  of  his  work  to  perifhj  without  anfwer- 

ingthe  purpofe  of  their  creation.  The  evils  of  life 

with  fome,   arebleflings:  and  the  plant  of  death 

healeth  the  wound  of  the  fword.— Doth  the  fea  of 

'    trouble    and   affliction  overwhelm  thy  foul,  look 

unto  the  Lord,  thou  lhalt  ftand  firm  in  the  days 

of  temptation,  as  the  lofty  hill  of  Kin  wu  If;  in 

vain  fhall  the  waves  beat  againft  thee  ;  thy  rock 

fliall  (land. 

Comely  as  the  white  rocks ;  bright  as  the  .ftar 
of  the  evening;  tall  as  the  oak  upon  the  brow  of 
the  mountain ;  foft  as  the  fhowers  of  dew,  that  fall 
upon  the  flowers  of  the  field,  Ethelgar  arofe,  the 
jlory  of*  Exanceaftre  :  noble  were  his  anceftors, 
as  the  palace  of  the  great  Kenric  ;  his  foul,  with 
the  lark,  every  morning  afcended  the  fkies  ;  and 
fported  in  the  clouds :  when  ftealing  down  the 
fteep  mountain,  wrapt  in  a  (hower  offpangling 
<le\v,  evening  came  creeping  to  the  plain,  clofing 
the  flowers  of  the  day,  making  her  pearly  mow 
ers  upon  the  ruftling  trees ;  then  was  his  voice 
heard  in  the  grove,  as  the  voice  of  the  nightingale 
upon  the  hawthorn  fpray  ;  he  fung  the  works  of 
the  Lord*  the  hollow  rocks  joined  in  his  devo 
tions  ;  the  ftars  danced  to  his  feng ;  the  rolling 
years,  in  various  mantles  dreft,  confeft  him  man. 
— He  faw  Egwiria  of  the  vale  ;  his  foul  was  afto- 
niflied,  as  the  Britons  who  fled  before  the  fword 
of  Kenric ;  (he  was  tall  as  the  towering  elm  ; 
llately  as  a  black  cloud  burfting  into  thunder  ;  fair 
as  the  wrought  bowels  of  the  earth;  gentle  and 
fweet  as  the  morning  breeze  ;  beauteous  as  the 
fun  ;  blufliing  like  the  vines  of  the  weft ;  her  foul 
i:->  fair,  as  the  azure  curtain  of  heaven.  She  faw 

*  £xcttf. 


Ethelgar ;  her  foft  foul  nwhed  as  the  flying  fnojr 
before  the  fun.    The  flirine  of  St.  Cuthbert  united  ' 
them.     The  minutes  fled  on  the  golden  wings  of 
bhfs.     Nine    horned   moons  had  decked  the" /ky, 
when  -y£lgar  faw  the  light ;  he  was  like  a  young 
plant  upon  the.  mountain's  fide,  'or 'the'  fun  hid  in  : 
a  cloud;  he   felt   the   ftrength   of  his  fire ;  and,  ' 
fwift  as  the   lightnings   of  heaven,  purfued  the 
wild  boar  of  the  wood.  The  mori*  awoke  the  fun  ; 
who,   ftepping  from  the  mountain's   brow,   fiiook 
his  ruddy  locks   upon  the   fhining  de\v;   JElgar 
arofe  from  fleep  ;  he  feized  his  fword,  and  (pear* 
and  iffued  to  the  chace.     As  waters  fwiftly  falling 
down  a  craggy  rock.fo  raged  young  .Elgar  through 
the  wood  ;  the  wild  boar  bit  Tils  fpear,  and  the  fox 
died  at  his  feet.     From  the  thicket  a  wolf  aroi'c, 
his  eyes  flaming  like  two  ftars  ;  he  roared  j'jke  tha 
voice  of  the  temped ;  hunger  made  him  furious, 
and    he  fled  like    a  /ailing    njeteor    to   the  war. 
Like  a  thunder  bolt 'tearing  the  black  rock,  JEl- 
gar  darted  his  fpear  throagh  his  heart.     The  wolf 
raged  like  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and  feiz- 
ing   J&gar   by   the   throat,    he    fought   the   re 
gions  of  the  blefled. — The   wolf  died   upon  his 
body. — Ethelgar  and  Egwina  wept  —They  wept  • 
like   the  rains  of  the  fpring;    forrow  fat    upon 
them  as  the  black   clouds,  upon  the   mountains 
of  death:  but  the   power  o£  God  fettled  theie 
aearts. 

The  golden  fun  arofe  to  the  higheft  of  his  p~ow- 
*r  ;  the  apple  perfumed  the  gale  ;.arrd  the  juic/ 
grape  delighted  the  eye.  Ethelgar  and  Egwi- 
la  bent  their  way  to  the  mountain's  fide,  like  two7 
ftars  that  move  through  the  Iky.  The  flowers 
jrew  beneath  their  feet ;  the  trees  fpread  out  their 
eaves;  the  fun  played  upon  the  rolling  brook ; 
the  winds  gently  pafled  along.  Dark,  pitchy 
clouds  veiled  the  face  of  the  fun  ;  the  winds  roar. 
:d  like  the  noife  of  a  battle  ;  the  fwift  haii  de- 
cended  to  the  ground  ;  the  lightnings  broke  from 
he  fable  clouds,  and  gilded  the  dark-brown  cor- 
iers  of  the  iky;  the  thunder  fliook  the  lofty  moun- 
ains  j  the  tall  towers  nodded  to  their  foundations ; 
he  bending  oaks  divided  the  whittling  wind;  the 
roken  flowers  fled  in  confulion  round  the  moun- 
ain's  fide.  Ethelgar  and  Egwina  fought  the  fa 
red  ihade,  the  bleak  winds  roared  over  their 
eads,  and  the  waters  ran  over  their  feet.  Swift 
rom  the  dark  cloud  the  lightning  came ;  the 
ies  blufhed  at  the  fight.  Egwina  ftood  on  the 
row  of  the  lofty  hill,  like  an  oak  in  the  fpring; 
lie  lightnings  danced,  about  her  garments,  and 
he  Wafting  flame  blackened  her  face :  the  fliade* 


MISCELLANIES. 


of  death  f\vam  before   her  eyes ;    and   (he  fell  J 
breathlffs  down  the  black  fteep  rock  :  the  fea  re- 
feived  her  body,  and  (he  rolled  down  with  the 
roaring  water. 

Ethelgar  ftood  terrible  a*  the  mountain  of  Main- 
dip;  the  waves  of  defpair  harrowed  up  his  foul, 
as  the  roaring  Severn  plows  the  fable  fand;  wild 
as  the  evening  wolf,  his  eyes  (hone  like  the  red 
vapours  in  the  valley  of  the  dead  :  horror  fat  upon 
His  brow ;  like  a  bright  ftar  (hooting  through  the 
(ky,  he  plunged  from  the  lofty  brow  of  the  hill, 
like  a  tall  oak  breaking  from  the  roaring  wind. 
Saint  Cuthbert  appeared  in  the  air;  the  black 
clouds  fled  from  the  (ky  ;  the  fun  gilded  the  fpang- 
ling  meadows;  the  lofty  pine  ftood  (till ;  the  vio 
lets  of  the  vale  gently  moved  to  the  foft  voice  of 
the  wind  ;  the  fun  (hone  on  the  bubbling  brook. 
The  faint,  arrayed  in  glory,  caught  the  falling 
mortal ;  as  the  foft  dew  of  the  morning  hangs  upon 
the  lofty  elm,  he  bore  him  to  the  Candy  beech, 
\yhilft  the  fea  roared  beneath  his  feet.  Ethelgar 
opened  his  eyes,  like  the  grey  orbs  of  the  morning, 
folding  up  the  black  mantles  of  the  night— Know, 
O  man  \  faid  the  member  of  the  blefied,  to  fub- 
mit  to  the  will  of  God  ;  he  is  terrible  as  the  face 
of  the  earth,  when  the  waters  funk  to  their  habi 
tations  ;  gentle  as  the  facred  covering  of  the  oak  ; 
fecret  as  the  bottom  of  the  great  deep;  juft  as 
the  rays  of  the  morning.  Learn  that  thou  art  a 
roan,  nor  repine  at  the  ftroke  of  the  Almighty, 
for  God  is  as  juft  as  he  is  great.  The  holy  vifion 
difappeared  as  the  atoms  fly  before  the  fun.  E- 
thelgar  arofe,  and  bent  his  way  to  the  college  of 
Kenewalcin ;  there  he  flouriflies  as  a  hoary  oak  in 
the  wood  of  Arden. 

Briftolt  Marsh  4,  1759.  D.  B. 

KENRICK. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  SAXOW. 

WHEN  winter  yelled  through  the  leaflefs  grove  ; 
•when  the  black  waves  rode  over  the  roaring  winds, 
and  the  dark-brown  clouds  hid  the  face  of  the  fun ; 
when  the  filver  brook  ftood  ftill,  and  fnow  en 
vironed  the  top  of  the  lofty  mountain ;  when  the 
flowers  appeared  not  in  the  blafted  fields,  and  the 
boughs  of  the  leaflefs  trees  bent  with  the  loads  of 
ice ;  when  the  howling  of  the  wolf  affrighted  the 
darkly  glimmering  light  of  the  weftern  (ky ;  Ken 
rick,  terrible  as  the  tempeft,  young  as  the  fnake 
of  the  valley,  ftrong  as  the  mountain  of  the  (lain; 
his  armour  (hining  like  the  ftars  in  the  dark  night, 
when  the  moon  is  veiled  in  fable,  and  the  blafting 
winds  howl  over  the  wide  plain ;  his  (hield  like 
the  black  rock,  prepared  himfelf  for  war. 

Ceolwelf  of  the  high  mountain,  who  viewed 
the  firft  rays  of  the  morning  ftar,  fwift  as  the  fly- 
jng  deer,  ftrong  as  a  young  oak,  fierce  as  an  even 
ing  wolf,  drew  his  fword  ;  glittering  like  the  blue 
vapours  in  the  valley  of  Horfo ;  terrible  as  the  red 
lightning,  burfting  from  the  dark-brown  clouds : 
his  fwift  bark  rode  over  the  foaming  waves,  like 
the  wind  in  the  tetnpeft ;  the  arches  fell  at  his 
blow,  and  he  wrapt  the  towers  in  flames ;  he  fol 
lowed  Kenrick,  like  a  wolf  roaming  for  prey. 

Centwin  of  the  vale  arofe,  he  febed  the  mafly 
/pear  j  terrible  was  his  voice,  great  was  his  ftrehgth ; 


he  hurled  the  rocks  into  the  fea,  and-lroke  tlie 
ftrong  oaks  of  the  foreft.  Slow  in  the  race  as  the 
minutes  of  impatience.  His  fpear,  like  the  fury 
of  a  thunderbolt,  fwept  down  whole  armies ;  his 
enemies  melted  before  him,  like  the  ftones  of  hail 
at  the  approach  of  the  tun. 

Awake,  O  Eldulph!  thou  that  fleepeft  on  the 
white  mountain,  with  the  faireft  of  women:  no 
more  porfue  the  dark-btown  wolf;  arife  from 
the  mofly  bank  of  the  falling  waters ;  let  thy  gar 
ments  be  ft;:ined  in  blood,  and  the  ftreams  of  life 
difcolour  thy  girdle  ;  let  thy  flowing  hair  be  hid 
in  a  helmet,  and  thy  beauteous  countenance  be 
writhed  into  terror. 

Egward,  keeper  of  the  barks,  arife  like  the  roar 
ing  waves  of  the  fea :  purfue  the  black  companies 
of  the  enemy. 

Ye  Saxons,  who  live  in  the  air  and  glide  over 
the  ftars,  act  like  yourfelves. 

Like  the  murmuring  voice  of  the  Severn,  fwel- 
led  with  rain,  the  Saxons  moved  along ;  like  z 
blazing  ftar  the  fword  of  Kenrick  (hone  among 
the  Britons  ;  Tenyan  bled  at  his  feet ;  like  the  red 
lightning  of  Heaven  he  burnt  up  the  ranks  of  his 
enemy. 

Centwin  raged  like  a  wild  boar.  Tatward 
fported  in  blood,  armies  melted  at  his  ftroke.  El 
dulph  was  a  flaming  vapour,  deftrudlion  fat  upon 
his  fword.  Ceolwolf  was  drenched  in  gore,  but 
fell  like  a  rock  before  the  fxvord  of  Mervin. 

Egward  purfued  the  (layer  of  his  friend;  the 
blood  of  Mervin  fmoked  on  his  hand. 

Like  the  rage  of  a  tempeft  was  the  noife  of 
the  battle ;  like  the  roaring  of  the  torrent, 
guftiing  from  the  brow  of  the  lofty  mountain. 

The  Britons  fled,  like  a  black  cloud  dropping 
hail,  flying  before  the  howling  winds. 

Ye  virgins !  arife  and  welcome  back  the  purfu. 
ers;  deck  their  brows  with  chaplets  of  jewels; 
fpresd  the  branches  of  the  oak  beneath  their  feet. 
Kenrick  is  returned  from  the  war,  the  clotted  gore 
hangs  terrible  upon  his  crooked  fword,  like  the 
noxious  vapours  on  the  black  rock  ;  his  knees  are 
red  with  the  gore  of  the  foe. 

Ye  fons  of  the  fong,  found  the  inftruments  of 
mufic  ;  ye  virgins,  dance  around  him. 

Coftan  of  the  lake,  arife,  take  thy  harp  from  the 
willow,  fing  the  praife  of  Kenrick,  to  the  fweet 
found  of  the  white  waves  finking  to  the  foundation 
of  the  black  rock. 

Rejoice,  O  ye  Saxous  !  Kenrick  is  vidlori. 
ous. 

CERDICK. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  SAXON. 

THE  rofe-crowned  dawn  dances  on  the  top  of  the 
lofty  hilL  Arife,  O  Cerdick,  from  the  mofly  bed. 
for  the  noife  of  the  chariots  is  heard  in  the  val 
leys. 

Ye  Saxons,  draw  the  fword,  prepare  the  flying 
dart  of  death :  fwift  as  the  glancing  fight  meet  the 
foe  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  caft  the  war 
riors  headlong  into  the  roaring  dream. 

The  fwords  of  the  Saxons  appear  on  the  high 
rock,  like  the  lake  of  death  refletfing  tie  beams 
of  the  morning  fun. 


58  z 


THE  WORKS    OF   C&ATTERTON. 


The  Britons  begin  to  afcend  the  ragged  frag 
ments  of  the  fhrink:ng  rock  :  thick  as  the  hail  in 
the  howling  ftorm,  driven  down  the  mountain's 
fide,  the  fon  of  the  tempeft;  the  chariot,  and 
the  horfe  roll  in  confufion  to  the  blood-ltained 
vale. 

Sons  of  war,  defcend,  let  the  river  be  fwelled 
with  the  fmoaking  ftreams  of  life,  and  the  moun 
tain  of  the  flain  afcend  to  the  ftars. 

They  fall  beneath  the  fpear  of  Cerdick. 
Sledda  is  a  flame  of  fire.  Reuben  fcatters  the 
never-erring  fliaft  of  death.  ^£lla  is  a  tempeft, 
a  cloud  burfting  in  blood,  a  winter's  wind  blalt- 
ing  the  foul :  his  knees  are  encircled  with  life- 
warm  gore,  his  white  robe  is  like  the  moining 
fky.  Ceaulin's  fpear  is  exalted  like  the  ftar  of 
the  evening ;  his  fallen  enemies  rife  in  hills  around 
him. 

The  actions  of  Cerdick  aftonifli  the  foul ;  the 
foe  is  melted  from  the  field,  and  the  gods  have  loft 
their  facrifice. 

Cerdick  leans  upon  his  fpear,  he  fings  the  praifes 
of  the  gods :  let  the  image  be  filled  with  the  bo 
dies  of  the  dead,  for  the  foe  is  fwept  away  like 
purple  bloom  of  the  grape,  no  more  to  be  feen. 
The  facred  flames  afcend  the  clouds,  the  warriors 
dance  around  it.  The  evening  (lowly  throws  her 
«lu(ky  vale  over  the  face  of  the  fun. 
Cerdick  arofe  in  his  tent. 
Yc  fons  of  war,  who  fhake  the  filver  javelin  and 
the  pointed  fhield,  arife  from  the  folt  (lumbers  of 
the  night,  aflembie  to  council  at  the  tent  of  Cer 
dick. 

From  the  dark-brown  fpring,  from  the  verdant 
top  of  the  impending  rock,  from  the  riowery 
vale,  and  the  coppiced  heath,  the  chiefs  of  the  war 
trofe. 

Graceful  as  the  flower  that  overlooks  the  filver 
ftream,  the  mighty  Cerdick  (tood  among  the  war 
riors  :  attention  feals  up  their  lips. 

Why  will  ye  fleep,  ye  Saxons,  whilft  the  hang 
ing  mountain  of  icrtune  trembles  over  our  heads ; 
let  us  gird  on  the  reeking  fword,  and  wrap  m 
flame  the  town  of  Doranceaftre :  ftrong  as  the 
foundation  of  the  earth,  fwift  as  the  impetuous 
Itream,  deadly  as  the  corrupted  air,  1'udden  as  the 
•whirlwind  piercing  to  the  hidden  bed  of  the  fea, 
armed  in  the  red  lightnings  of  the  rtorm,  will 
we  come  upon  the  foe.  Prepare  the  fword 
and  fliield,  and  follow  the  descendant  of  Wo 
den. 

As  when  the  fable  clouds  inceflantly  defcend  in 
rivers  of  rain  to  the  wood-crowned  hills,  the  foun 
dation  of  the  ground  is  loofened,  and  the  foreft 
gently  flides  to  the  valley,  fuch  was  the  appearanct 
of  the  warriors,  moving  to  the  city  of  Uoran- 
ceaftre  :  the  fpears  appeared  like  the  ftars  of  the 
black  night,  their  fpreading  fliields  like  the  even 
ing  iky. 

Turn  your  eyes,  O  ye  Saxons,  to  the  diftant 
mountain :  on  the  fpreading  top  a  company  is 
feen :  they  are  like  the  locults  of  the  eaft,  like  a 
dark-brown  cloud  expanding  in  the  wind  :  they 
come  down  the  hills  like  the  ftones  of  hail ;  the 
javelin  nods  over  the  helm  ;  death  fports  in  their 
lhadows.  They  are  children  of  Woden  :  fee  the 
god  of  battle  fans  the  air,  the  red  fword  waves  in 


.. ur  banner.  Ye  fons  of  battle,  wait  their  ap. 
proach.  If  t  their  eyes  be  feafted  with  the  chapletl 
of  vidlory. 

It  is  Kenrick  !  I  fee  the  lightning  on  his  fhield '. 
hi-.  e>e>  art.  two  ft  .is,  his  arm  is  the  arrow  of 
death  he  drinks  the  blood  of  the  foe,  as  the  rays 
of  the  fummer  lun  drink  the  ibftly  Healing  brook: 
he  moves  like  the  moon,  attended  by  the  Itars ; 
his  blood-Rained  rob-  flies  around  him,  like  the 
white  clouds  of  the  evening,  tinged  with  the  red 
beams  of  the  finking  fun. 

See  the  chaplet  hangs  on  his  helm  :  (hade  him, 
O  ye  (bus  ot  war,  with  the  pointed  fhield. 

Kenrick  approaches ,  the  (hields  of  the  brave 
hang  over  his  head.  He  ipeaks ;  attention  dances 
on  the  ear. 

Son  of  Woden,  receive  a  conquering  fon  :  the 
bodies  of  the  flain  rife  in  mountains  ;  the  ames  of 
the  towns  choke  up  the  river ;  the  roaring  ftream 
of  Severn  is  tilled  with  the  flaughtered  fons  of 
thunder  ;  the  warriors  hang  upon  the  cliffs  of  the' 
red  rocks ;  the  mighty  men,  like  the  facrifice  of 
yelterday,  will  be  feen  no  more  ;  the  briars  (hall 
hide  the  plain ;  the  grafs  dwell  in  the  defolate  ha 
bitation  ,  the  wolf  (hall  fleep  in  the  palace,  and 
the  fox  in  the  temple  of  the  gods  ;  the  (lieep  (hall 
wander  without  a  (hepherd,  and  the  goats  be  fcat- 
tered  in-the  high  mountains,  like  the  furrows  on 
i he  bank  of  the  fwelhng  flood  ;  the  enemies  are 
(wept  away  ;  the  gods  are  glutted  with  blood, 
and  peace  arites  from  the  folitary  grove. 

Joy  wantons  in  the  eye  of  Cerdick.  By  the 
powers  that  fend  the  tempeft,  the  red  lightning,' 
and  roaring  thunder  ;  by  the  god  of  war,  whofe 
delight  is  in  biood,  and  who  preys  upon  the  fouls 
of  the  brave  ;  by  the  powers  of  the  great  deep,  I 
fwear  that  Kenrick  (hall  fit  on  my  throne,  guide 
the  fanguine  fpear  of  war,  and  the  glittering 
fceptre  of  peace. 

Cerdick  girds  his  fon  with  the  fword  of  royalty: . 
the  warriors  dance  around  him :  the  clanging 
(hields  echo  10  the  diitant  vales  ;  the  fires  afcend 
the  (kies ;  the  town  of  Doranceaftre  increases  the 
flame,  and  the  great  image  is  red  with  the  blood 
of  the  captives:  the  cries  of  the  burning  foe  are 
drowned  in  the  longs  of  joy ;  the  aflies  of  the 
image  are  fcattered  in  the  air,  the  bones  of  the 
foe  are  broken  to  duft. 

Great  is  the  valour  of  Cerdiok,  great  is  the 
ftrength  of  Kenrick. 

Briflol,  May  20.  D.  B. 

GODRED  CROVAN. 


Cotnpofed  by  fiopnal  Syrric  Scleld  of  Godred  Cr»- 
iiaa,  king  of' the  IJle  of  Man. 

ARISE,  O  fon  of  Haraid  the  BUck,  for  the  fon 
of  Syiric  deeps  upon  the  mountain,  under  the 
mofly  rock ,  prepare  thy  filver  lance,  (hake  the 
clotted  gore  of  the  *olf  from  thy  fpreading  fhield  ; 
Fingal  ot  the  brown  lake,  whofe  fword  divides  the 
lony  pine,  whofe  fpear  is  ever  moid  with  the 
blood  of  the  flam,  will  aih'ft  thy  arm.  Cullifin 
vvho  fleeps  on  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  whofe 


MISCELLANIES. 


3*3 


feet  are  fwift  as  the  days  of  mirth,  will  draw  forth 
his  troops  from  the  foreft.  The  lions  of  the  plain, 
Morvor  and  Eflyr,  will  fwell  thy  army,  as  the 
falling  rain  fwells  the  filver  brook  :  they  wait  for 
thy  prefence,  as  the  brown  meadow  for  the 
fpring  ;  they  will  fiioot  out  in  blood,  and  bloflbm. 
in  victory. 

Godred  CroVan,  fon  of  Harakl  the  Bhck,  whofe 
name  has  put  to  flight  armies,  arife. 

Godred  arofe ;  he  met  tht  chiefs  on  the  plain ; 
they  fat  down,  andfeafted  till  the  evening:  there 
fat  Cochlin  with  the  long  fpear,  whole  arm  is  a 
thunderbolt :  on  the  banks  of  the  fea  he  fought 
an.  hoft.  and  rained  blood  on  the  plain  of  Mervor  : 
brown  is  his  face  as  the  fun-burnt  heath;  ftrong 
his  arm  as  tlv  roaring;  fea  :  he  fhook  his  black 
locks  like  clouds  tofiVd  by  the  winds  :  he  lings 
the  long  of  joy.  Godwin  of  the  rufliy  plain  lay 
upon  the  (km  ot  the  wolf;  his  eyes  are  ftars,  his 
blows  are  lightning.  Tatwaliin  fat  by  his  fide, 
he  lung  tweet  as  the  birds  of  fpring,  he  fought 
like  the  angry  lion. 

O  Tatwaliin  !  fing  the  actions  of  Harold  the 
Swift. 

Tatwaliin  arofe  from  his  feat,  the  horn  of  mirth 
graced  his  right-hand. 

Hear,  ye  ions  of  blood,  whilft  the  horn  of  mirth 
is  lefrefhiug  your  fouls,  the  actions  of  Harold  the 
Swift. 

"  The  wolf  of  Norway  beat  his  anlace  on  his 
filver  fhield  ;  the  ions  of  war  aflembled  around 
him  :  iv.  ain  of  the  cleft-hill  (hook  the  fpear  on  his 
It  ft ;  and  Harald  the  Black,  the  lion  of  Iceland,  on 
his  right,  dye  d  :r.  gore.  Fergus  of  the  fpreading 
hills  was  caied  in  btack  armour;  his  eyes  fhone 
•with  rage,  his  tw  ord  fported  with  the  beams  of 
the  fun. 

"  Warriors,"  faid  the  chief  of  the  hoft,  "  let  us 
afiault  t>e  foe  ;  iwift  as  the  hawk  let  us  fly  to  the 
war;  ftrong  as  the  bull,  fierce  as  the  wolf,  will 
we  rage  in  the  fipht :  the  followers  of  Harold,  the 
fon  of  Go<iw<n,  Ihall  melt  away  as  the  fummer 
clouds,  they  ihall  tall  like  the  flowers  of  the  field  ; 
their  louls  will  fade  with  the  blafting  of  our  va 
lour. 

"  Swain  prepares  for  war;  he  founds  the  bra 
zen  hciniet ;  his  followers  lift  high  the  deadly 
fpear. 

"  The  fon  of  Godwin  appears  on  the  bridge; 
his  banner  waves  in  the  wind  ;  like  a  ftorm  he 
fcattered  the  troops  of  Swain. 

"  Edmund  (hot  the  arrows  of  death. 
"  Madded  by  defeat,  Swain  plunged  into  his 
bai  d  :  the  fword  of  Edmund  founded  on  his  hel- 
m  t ;  their  filver  (hie  ids  were  heard  upon  the 
fti  earn  •  the  fword  of  Edmund  funk  to  the  heart  of 
the  fon  of  Egwin  ;  he  bit  the  bloody  fand  at  his 
feet. 

"  Harald  the  Black  flood  on  the  bridge ;  he 
fwelled  the  river  with  gore  :  he  divides  the  head 
of  Edmund,  as  the  lightning  tears  the  top  of  the 
ftrong  rock  :  armies  melted  before  him  ;  none  can 
withftand  his  rage.  The  fon  of  Godwin  views  him 
from  the  hill  of  death  ;  he  feized  the  flaming  ban 
ner,  and  founds  the  filver  fhield. 

"  Girth,  Leofric,  and  Morcar,  pillars  of  the 
yr»r>  fly  to  his  fltadow  :  with  a  troop  of  Knights, 


Serce  as  evening  wolves,  they  befet  Harald  the 
Black ;  like  a  tempeft  they  rage,  like  a  rock  he 
repels  their  aflault :  hills  of  the  flain  arife  before 
him  ;  the  courfe  of  the  ftream  is  turned  afide. 

"  \Varriors,"  faid  the  fon  of  Godwin,  "  though 
we  rage  like  a  tempeft,  like  a  rock  he  repels  our 
aiVault.  Morcar,  let  one  of  thy  knights  defcend 
beneath  the  bridge,  and  pierce  him  through  the 
back  with  a  fpear. 

"  Sehvin,  fwift  as  a  falling  meteor,  fhot  be. 
neath  the  wave ;  the  fharp  fpear  pierces  through 
the  back  of  Harald  the  Black ;  he  falls  like  a 
mountain  in  an  earthquake ;  his  eyes  fliot  fire, 
and  his  tteth  gnafhed  with  rage  :  he  dies. 

"  The  hopes  of  Norway  are  no  more ;  Harold 
the  Swift  led  his  troops  to  the  bridge ;  they  ftart- 
ed  at  the  fight  of  the  mighty  body,  they  wept, 
they  fled. 

"  Thee,  Godred,  only  thee !  of  all  the  thon- 
fands  of  the  war,  prepared  thy  fword  for  battle  ; 
they  dragged  thee  from  the  field. 

"  Great  was  the  forrow  of  the  fons  of  Norway." 

Tatwaliin  ended  his  fong,  the  chiefs  arofe  from 
the  green  plain ;  they  affemble  their  troops  on  the 
banks  of  Lexy. 

Ceormond,  with  the  green  fpear,  rnartialled  his 
band  :  he  deduced  his  lineage  from  Woden,  and 
difplayed  the  fliield  of  Penda.  Strong  as  the  tower 
of  Pendragon  on  the  hill,  furious  as  the  fouls  of 
the  unburied  warriors;  his  company  were  all 
chiefs.  Upon  the  high  hills  he  encountered  Mo- 
ryon  ;  like  dafhing  waves,  they  ruflied  to  the  war; 
their  fwords  rained  blood  to  the  valley  beneath. 
Moryon,  wild  as  the  winter's  wind,  raged  in  the 
fight ;  the  pointed  javelin  quivered  in  his  breaft  ; 
he  rolled  down  the  high  hill.  Son  of  Woden,  great 
was  thy  might ;  by  thy  hand  the  two  fons  of  Of- 
mor  fell  to  the  valley. 

H«w  are  thy  warriors  ftretched  upon  the  bank 
of  the  Lexy,  like  willows ! 

Ealward,  of  the  brown  rock,  who  dyes  his  an. 
lace  in  the  blood  of  the  wolves  of  the  hill,  whofe 
fpear,  like  a  ftar,  blafts  the  fouls  of  the  foe  ;  fee,  he 
fleeps  with  the  chiefs  upon  the  Ikin  of  the  wolf; 
the  battle  is  raging  in  his  fancy }  he  grafps  the 
bloody  fpear  ;  his  enemies  fly  before  him  ;  joy  and 
rage  dance  on  his  brow  :  thusfleeping,  he  is  as  the 
fun  flightly  covered  with  a  cloud. 

Dugnal,  who  inhabits  the  ifles,  whofe  barks  are 
fwifter  than  the  wind,  (lands  on  the  bank  of  the 
ftream  ;  his  eyes  are  bent  on  the  fpangling  wave ; 
his  hands  prefs  the  filver-headcd  fpear ;  he  is  a  lion 
in  the  war,  in  the  council  wife  as  the  ancient 
priefts. 

Wilver  (lands  on  the  right  hand  of  Godred  ;  he 
is  a  rock,  unmoved  by  the  tempeft  of  war. 

Lagman  is  a  young  oak ;  he  flourifhes  in  the 
heat  of  the  glory  of  his  fire :  the  warrior*  are  like 
the  ftars  of  the  winter  night. 

The  noife  of  a  multitude  is  heard  from  the 
hills:  Godred  fets  his  troops  in  order  for  war; 
they  are  feen  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  Many  are 
the  foes  of  Godred ;  great  is  the  courage  of  hii 
warriors. 

Raignald  of  the  ifles  attends  the  chiefs  of  hi» 
foes  ;  his  arm  is  ftrong  as  the  flourishing  oak.vs  of 
wifdom  deep  as  the  Hack  lake  j  his  I 


THE  WORKS   OF   CH ATTERTOtf. 


flew  over  the  waves  ;  he  defied  to  battle  the 
prince  of  the  mountains 

Bladdyn  fell  by  his  hand  ;  he  burnt  the  palace 
of  the  wood  ;  the  horn,  embofied  with  gold,  grac 
ed  his  fpoils  j  he  returned  to  his  caftle  over  a  fea 
of  blood. 

Dunhelm  bears  the  banner  of  the  foe  ;  he  is  the 
dragon  of  the  mofly  plain  ;  he  kept  the  water  of 
the  feven  fprings.  Wynfylt  and  his  warriors  fought 
to  bear  away  the  water  in  the  horn  of  hofpitality. 
Dunhelm  arofe  from  his  ftrong  fort  ;  his  anlace 
glittered  over  his  head. 

Children  of  the  hills  (faid  the  fon  of  Olave), 
reftore  the  water  to  the  gently-running  ftream. 

The  fon  of  Meurig  anfttered  not  :  the  anlace  of 
Dunhelm  divided  hi*  head;  his  blows  fell  like  the 
ftones  of  hail,  when  the  loud  winds  {hake  the  top 
of  the  lofty  tree  ;  the  warriors  fled  like  the  clouds 
of  night,  at  the  approach  of  the  fun. 

Elgar,  from  the  borders  of  Northumberland, 
•was  among  the  enemies  of  Godred  Crovan,  Ion  of 
Harald  the  Black  :  he  led  his  troop  down  the  hill, 
and  began  the  fight  with  Ofptay  :  like  the  raging 
of  the  lake  of  blood,  when  the  loud  winds  whittle 
over  the  (harp  cliffs  of  the  rock,  was  the  noife  of 
the  battle. 

Summerled  rofe  in  the  fight  like  the  rays  of  the 
morning;  blood  beamed  about  him;  his  helmet 
fell  from  his  head  ;  his  eyes  were  like  the  lights 
upon  the  billows. 

Qctha,  who  fought  for  Godred,  oppofed  the  paf- 
fage  of  his  rage  ;  his  Ihield  was  like  the  riling  fun, 
his  fpear  the  tower  of  Mabyn  ;  the  fpear  of  Sum 
merled  founded  on  the  Ihield  of  Oclha;  he  heaid 
the  flirill  cry  of  joy,  as  the  broken  weapon  fell  to 
the  ground  :  his  fworci  fell  upon  the  flioukler  of 
Summerled  ;  he  gnaflied  his  teeth,  and  died. 

Ofpray,  like  a  lion,  ravages  the  baud  of  Elgar. 
Oclha  follows  behind  him,  dying  his  long  white 
lobe  in  blood. 

Elgar  flies  to  the  fon  of  Yorti  ;  his  fpear  founds 
npon  his  helmet  ;  the  iword  oi  GcVha  divides  the 
Ihield  of  Elgar:  the  Northumbrian  warrior  re 
tires  to  his  band.  Ounhelm  drives  his  long  fpear 
through  the  heart  qf  O&La  ;  he  faLU  to  the  gi  ouod. 
"Wilver  fets  his-foot  upon  hisbreathletscorple,  and 
buries  him  beneath  the  bodies  of  the  foe. 

Raignald,  with  his  band,  flies  to  the  relief  of 
Dunheim  :  tbe  troops  oi  Wilvir  and  Ofpray  flowly 
retire.  Dunhelm  falls  by  the  javelin  of  an  un 
known  warrior  ;  fo  fails  the  eagie  by  the  arrow  of 
the  child. 

Raignald  rages  like  the  fires  of  the  mountain; 
the  troops  of  Dugnal  and  Geormond  melt  beiort 
him. 

Dugnal  lifts  hign  his  broad  Ihield  againft  the 
breaft  of  Raignald  ;  his  fword  hangs  over  his 
baad  i  the  troops  of  Raignaid  retire  with  their 
chief.  Ealward,  and  the  fon  of  Harald  the  Black, 
fly  to  the  war  :  the  foe  retire  befoje  them.  Raig- 
nald  encourages  his  men  :  like  aa  eagle  te  lages 
in  the  fight. 

Tbe  troops  of  Godred  halt  :  tbe  bands  of  Dog- 
ual  and  Ceormood  forfake  their  leaders. 

Godred  retires  to  the  bank  of  theLexy  ;  the  foe 
••'  behind,  but  were  driven  back  with 


tbe  bknk  of 


j  if 
S°dofbati  like  broken  oaks. 


warriors 


Godred  founds  the  filver  fhield  ;  the  chiefs  aC. 
femble  round  his  tent. 

Let  us  again  to  the  war,  O  chiefs  !  and  drive 
the  foe  over  the  mountains. 

They  prepare  for  war;  Dugnal  leads  the  wolves 
of  the  ifle  ;  with  a  loud  voice  they  began  the  fight. 
Ealward  falls  by  the  fword  of  Raignald.  CuUifm 
fcatters  the  javelins  of  fate.  Fingal  rages  in  the 
fight,  but  fell  by  the  fword  of  Elgar. 

Cochlin  heard  the  dying  groans  of  his  friend  ; 
his  fword  pierced  the  heart  of  Elgar ;  he  fell  up 
on  the  body  of  Fingal. 

Moivor  and  Eflyr  raged  like  forts  of  blood ; 
thoufands  fell  around  them.  Godwin  fcattered 
(laughter  through  the  hoft  of  tbe  foe.  Tatwallin 
fweepsdewn  the 'chief  of  the  battle;  like  the  noife 
of  torrents  rolling  down  the  high  mountains,  is 
the  noife  of-  the  fight ;  the  feet  of  the  warriors  are 
wet  with  blood  ;  the  fword  of  Cocbh'n  is  broken  ; 
his  fpear  pierces  through  the  foe  like  lightning 
through  the  oak  •-  the  chiefs  of  Godred  fill  the 
field  with  the  bodies  of  the  dead  :  the  night  ap 
proaches,  and  vidlory  is  undecided  :  the  black 
clouds  bend  to  the  earth ;  Raignald  and  Godred 
both  retire. 

The  chiefs  of  Godred  affemb!ed  at  the  tent  of 
council :  Xatwallin  arofe  and  fung  i 

"  When  tbe  flowers  arofe  in  the  verdant  mea 
dows,  when  the  birds  of  fpring  were  beard  in  tbe 
grove  of  Thor,  the  fon  of  Yicta  prepared  his 
knights  for  war;  itrong  as  the  moffy  tomb  of 
Urfic,  were  the  warriors  he  had  chofe  for  his  band  ; 
they  iffued  out  to  the  war.  Wecca  (hoot  the 
crooked  anlace  at  their  head. 

"  Halt,"  faid  the  fon  of  Vicla  ;  "  let  the  troops 
ftarid  (till:  full  asthefilent  wood,  when  the  winds 
are  laid  afleep,  the  Sazcns  flood  on  the  fpreading 
plain, 

"  Sons  of  blood!™  faid  the  immortal  Wecca, 
**  the  foe  againft  whom  we  muft  fight,  are  ftrong- 
er  than  the  whole  power  of  our  king ;  let  the  fon 
of  Henna,  with  three  hundred  warriors,  be  bid  in 
the  dark-brown  wood ;  when  the  enemy  faint  in 
the  battie,  let  them  i'pread  themfelves  like  the 
burfting  cloud,  and  rain  a  Ihower  of  blood  ;  tbe 
foe  will  be  weakened,  aftonimed,  and  Sy. 

"  The  warriors  held  their  broad  fhieids  over 
the  head  of  the  fon  of  Vicla ;  they  gave  him  the 
chaplet  of  vidlory,  and  fang  tbe  faag  of  joy, 

"  Hennack,  with  the  flower  of  the  war,  retir 
ed  to  the  dark-brown  wood  :  the  fun  arofe  array 
ed  in  garments  oi  blood  ;  Wecca  led  his  men  to 
the  battk :  like  bears  they  raged  in  the  fight  ; 
yet  the  enemy  fled  not,  neither  were  they  moved: 
the  fight  continued  till  BOOM  ;  the  troops  of  the  fon 
of  Vicla  fought  like  the  dragons  of  the  mountain; 
the  foe  tainted ;  they  were  weakened,  yet  ihey 
tied  not. 

"  3'he  fon  of  Henna  drew  forth  bis  band  totLft 
plain  ;  like  a.  tdmpeft  they  fell  apou  the  foe;  they 
were  aftonifiied  ;  they  fled. 

"  Godied  Crava*,  fon  of  Harald  tbe  Black,  the 
lion  of  Iceland,  and  all  the  warriors  who  fight  ia 
his  caufe,  let  us  ptirfae  the  iaroe  naethcrf ;  let  the 
mountain  of  Sec&fuii  conceal  Du'gnal,  rod  three 
hundred  chafoff  warriors,  from  tbe  eyes  of 
nald;  when  h/i  is  Iptnt  ia  the  %&t;  let 


MISCELLANIES 


Gedred  aroie  from  his  throne,  he  led  Tatwallin 
to  a  feat  at  his  right-hand. 

Dugnal  prepares  his  troop  ;  fing,  O  Tatwallin, 
the  adions  of  Hengift  and  Horfa. 

Tatwallin  arole  from  his  feat : 

"  When  the  black  clouds  ftooped  bplow  the 
tops  of  the  high  hills,  when  the  wolf  came  forth 
from  the  ivoed,  when  the  branches  of  th\?  pine 
perifhed,  when  the  yews  only  fmiled  upon  the 
ruflet-heath,  the  fons  of  Woden  led  the  furious 
warriors  to  the  bank  of  the  fwift  ftream ;  there 
lat  the  horfe  of  the  hill,  whole  crooked  fword 
Jhone  like  the  ftar  of  the  evening. 

"  Peada  was  the  banner  of  the  hills :  when  he 
waved  his  golden  torce  upon  the  bodies  of  the 
llain,  the  hearts  of  his  companions  beamed  with 
victory  :  he  joined  the  numerous  bands  of  the  fons 
of  Woden;  like  a  fwelling  ftream  they  etiter  the 
borders  of  the  land  of  Cuccurcha. 

"  Locca  of  the  brown  valley  founds  the  fhield  ; 
the  king  of  Urrin  hears  the  found,  he  (tarts  from 
his  feat :  aflemble  the  lions  of  war,  for  the  enemy 
are  upon  the  borders. 

"  Sons  of  Morven,  upon  whofe  fliields  are 
feen  the  hawk  and  the  ferpent,  fwift  as  the  wind 
fly  to  the  warriors  of  Abou's  ftream :  fons  of 
war,  prepare  the  fpreading  fhield,  the  fword  of 
fire,  the  fpear,  the  azure  banner  made  facfed  by 
the  God. 

"  Cuccurcha  iftues  to  the  war,  as  an  enemy's 
wolf  to  the  field. 

"  Selward,  whofe  face  is  a  fummer  cloud, 
gleaming  with  the  recent  lightning  of  the  ftorms, 
lhakes  the  broad  anlace. 

"  Eadgar  and  Emmieldred,  fons  of  the  mighty 
Rovan,  who  difcomfitted  Ofniron  with  his  fteeds 
of  fire,  when  the  god  of  war,  the  blood  ftained 
Woden,  pitched  his  tent  on  the  bank  of  the  wide 
lake,  are  feen  in  the  troop. 

"  Creadda,  whofe  feet  are  like  thofe  of  the 
horfe,  lifts  high  the  filver  fhield. 

"  On  the  plain,  near  the  palace  of  Frica, 
he  encountered  with  Egward ;  their  fwords 
rained  blood,  fliields  echoed  to  the  valley  of 
flaughter. 

"  Thefe  were  the  warriors  of  Cucchurcha)  the 
lions  of  the  war. 

"  Hengift  and  Horfa  met  them  on  the  fandy 
plain  ;  the  lhafts  of  death  clouded  the  fun,  fwift 
as  the  fhips  of  Horfa,  ftreng  as  the  arm  of  Su- 
chullin:  Peada  ravaged  the  band  of  Cuccurcha 
like  a  mountain.  Eadgar  fuftained  the  blow  of 
Hengift;  great  was  the  fury  of  Emmieldied, 
his  fpear  divided  the  broad  fliield,  his  anlace 
funk  into  the  heart:  the  fword  of  Anyoni  pierced 
the  breaft  of  Cuccurcha,  he  fell  like  an  oak  to  the 
plain. 

"  Creadda  rages  in  the  battle,  he  is  a  wild  boar 
of  the  wood  :  the  anlace  of  Horfa  founds  on  his 
round  helm,  he  gnafhes  his  teeth,  he  chums  the 
Imoaking  gore,  he  dies.  Locca  reclines  on  his 
long  fpear,  he  is  wearied  with  dealing  death  a- 
jnong  his  foes :  the  anlace  of  Hengift  alights  on 
his  buck,  he  falls  to  the  ground. 

"  The  men  of  Urrin  fled  to  the  foreft :  the 
lions  of  war,  Hengift  and  Horfa,  throw  the  fpears 
of  flight ;  they  burn  ut>  the  fouls  of  the  flying  foe  ; 

VOL.  XI,  ' 


the  great  image  is  red  with  blood ;  the  flame 
lights  the  ftars;  the  moon  comes  forth  to  grace 
the  feaft ;  the  chaplet  of  victory  hangs  on  tha 
brow  of  the  warriors." 

Tatwallin  ended  his  fong, 

The  murning  crept  from  the  mountains,  Duj- 
nal  with  his  troops  retired  to  the  foreft  on  the 
mountain  of  Scoafull. 

Godred  Crovan,  fon  of  Harald  the  Black,  the 
lion  of  Iceland,  prepares  for  battle.  Raignald 
came  down  to  the  plain:  long  was  the  fight  and 
bloody. 

Godred  Crovan  beat  his  anlace  on  the  fliield  ; 
the  warriors  upon  the  mountain  heard  the  found 
of  the  filver  Ihield;  fwift  as  the  hunted  ftag  they 
fly  to  the  war,  they  hear  the  noife  of  the  battle  ; 
the  fliout  of  the  onlet  fwells  in  the  wind,  the  loud 
din  of  the  war  increafes,  as  the  thunder  rolling 
from  afar  5  they  fly  down  the  mountains,  where 
the  fragments  of  the  (harp  rock  are  fcattcred 
around ;  they  afcend  like  the  vapours,  folding 
up  the  high  hill,  upon  the  borders  of  Ofloch  j 
their  helmets  fweep  the  dawn  of  the  morning  ; 
the  faffron  light  fliines  on  the  broad  fliield  ; 
through  the  dark  dells  they  cut  a  pallage,  through 
the  dells  where  the  beams  of  the  fun  are  never 
feen. 

On  the  ruiliy  moor  of  Roflin  they  aftonifh  the 
foe,  and  join  in  the  war. 

There  fought  Gsdred  Crovan,  death  fat  on  hi* 
fword,  the  yelling  breath  of  the  dying  foe  (hook 
his  banner  ;  his  fliield,  the  ftream  of  Lexy,  which 
furroilnds  the  dark-brown  wood,  and  Ihines  at  the 
noon  of  day;  his  anlace  dropped  blood,  and  tore 
through  the  helmets  of  the  foe  like  the  red  light 
ning  of  the  ftorm. 

Dugnal,  chief  of  the  mountain  warriors,  who 
drove  Rygwallon  from  his  chariot  of  war,  lifted 
his  fhield  and  fpear  through  the  heart  of  Morval ; 
the  weapon  perforated,  he  yelled  like  a  wolf  otf 
the  mountain,  he  died. 

Wcolmund,  of  the  white  rock,  arofe  in  the  fight ; 
like  the  fires  of  the  earth  he  burnt  up  the  ranks 
of  the  foe  ;  his  fpear  a  blafted  «ak,  his  fliield  the 
fea  whtn  the  winds  are  ftill,  he  appeared  a  hill.oti 
whofe  top  the  winter  fnow  is  Icen,  and  the  lum- 
mer  fun  melts  it  up  :  victory  fat  on  his  helmet, 
death  on  his  anlace. 

Wilver,  who  fupports  the  tottering  rocks,  who 
flies  like  the  bud  of  fummer  over  the  plain,  fttakes 
the  crooked  fword  as  he  rages  upon  the  hills 
of  the  flain,  and  is  red  with  living  gore:  the 
fpears  of  the  foe  are  gathered  about  him,  the  fliarp 
javelins  found  on  his  ihield  f  he  looks  around  the 
field,  the  favage  Edwin  flies  to  his  aid  ;  like  two 
wolves  they  rage  in  the  war,  their  fliields  are  red 
with  blood. 

The  bear  of  the  north  throws  his  lance  :  the 
fur-clad  Godard  Syrric  difplays  his  flurry  fliield, 
the  chiefs  fall  at.  his  feet,  he  rift  s  on  the  breaft  of 
Rynen,  Itorms  of  blood  furround  his  fword,  blood 
flows  around  him. 

When  the  ilorm  rages  in  the  fky,  the  torrents 
roll  to  the  pl.'.in,  the  trees  of  the  wood  are  borne 
away,  the  caltle  falls  to  the  ground,  fuch  w.is  the 
fury  of  the  fi;,'ht  on  the  mror  of  Kortin  :  the  chiels 
fell,  our  iocs  halt,  they  tly  fwiu  a:  the  clttttM  of 


386- 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTERTON. 


winter.  Ofpray  throws  the  fpear  of  Chafo ;  fwift 
as  their  fear  he  flies  to  the  purfuit ;  the  foul  of 
Godred  melted,  he  rolled  the  blue  banner, 
wrought  with  gold,  round  the  crimfon  ftream  : 
his  warriors  dance  around  him,  they  fing  the 
fong  of  Harald  the  Black  ;  they  hail  him  king  ; 
the  golden  fandal  is  thrown  over  his  helmet. 
May  the  gods  grant  this  war  for  empire  be  his 
laft. 

THE  HIRLAS, 

Tranjlated  from   the  ancient   Britifb  of  Owen 
Cyfeliog,  Prince  ofPoivys. 

ERE  the  fun  was  feen  on  the  brow  of  the  moun 
tain,  the  clanging  fhields  were  heard  in  the  val 
ley:  our  enemies  were  appalled  at  the  found.  The 
red  armour  of  our  warriors  glittered  till  the  noon 
of  day.  The  foe  fled  from  the  borders;  they  fell 
in  the  chafe  like  (tones  of  hail ;  they  panted  like 
hunted  wolves. 

Let  the  hirlas  of  Rhys  overflow  like  the  waters 
of  the  great  river. 

Where  the  golden  banners  declare  the  valour  of 
Rhys,  had  the  horn  of  hofpitality  long  been  ufed  : 
it  relieved  the  warriors,  who  fainted  in  the  chafe, 
and  the  traveller  whofe  habitation  is  beyond  the 
white  mountains. 

Bring  here,  O  cupbearer,  the  carved  hirlas  of 
mirth,  which  glows  with  livid  gold  :  let  thefpark- 
ling  mead  flow  around  it. 

Gwgwyn,  prince  of  my  table,  fon  of  mighty 
men,  thine  are  the  fiift  honours  of  the  Hirlas ; 
imall  is  the  gift  of  gratitude ;  great  were  thy  fer- 
vices.  When  thy  anceftors  ftood  in  the  fight, 
•victory  flood  with  them  ;  loud  were  their  voices 
in  the  battle,  as  the  hygra  of  their  charge. 

Fill  the  golden  hirlas  of  mirth  ;  attend  to  the 
merits  of  the  warriors,  left  they  revenge  on  thee 
the  difgrace  of  their  honour. 

See  Gryffydh,  with  his  uplifted  crimfon  fpear, 
expec~ls  it ;  he  is  the  bulwark  of  the  borders : 
iprung  from  Cynfyll  and  the  dragons  of  the  hill  ; 
his  name  fhall  ever  live  in  the  fongs  of  the  bards. 
As  refrefhed  with  the  drink  of  mirth,  his  atten 
dants  fought,  furious  as  the  battle  of  the  cham 
pions  of  the  valley.  Whilft  the  tomb  of  Pemlragon 
Jhall  Hand  on  the  hill,  his  fame  fliall  remain  in  the 
too*. 

Fill  up  the  hirlas  to  Eadnyfed,  who  fits  like  a 
god  upon  his  broken  armour :  like  a  temped  he 
fell  upon  the  fhields  of  his  foes :  near  Gyrthyn  he 
flew  an  hod. 

The  diftant  nations  heard  the  noife  of  the  bat 
tle  of  Maelor;  the  found  of  the  fhields  was 
heard  in  the  mountains.  Dreadful  was  the  con 
flict  as  that  of  Bangor,  when  the  warriors  were 
trod  to  the  ground.  The  princes  .fled  :  Morach 
beat  the  earth  with  his  feet :  Morvran  fled  over 
the  mountain. 

Fill  up  the  golden  hirlas.  Let  the  mead  be 
borne  to  Sylliw,  defender  of  our  cnaft;  to  the  lion 
of  war,  the  fon  of  Madoc;  fierce  as  a  welf  in  the 
fight ;  foft  as  the  moffy  bed  in  peace. 

To  the  fens  of  Effyner,  bear  it  next :  ftrong  as 
two  rocks  they  raged  in  the  fight;  the  braved 


champion  falls  before  them;  like  ftorms  they 
pierce  the  targets  of  the  foe,  fweeping  down 
the  multitude  as  the  loud  billows  fweep  the 
fand. 

Fill  up  the  badge  of  honour.  To  Tudor  bear 
the  golden  hirlas.  Now  to  Moreiddeg,  who, 
with  his  brother,  affifted  our  caufe :  valour  fet 
upon  their  brows ;  like  wolves  they  fought  for 
blood.  Thefe  are  my  chiefs. 

Let  the  golden  hirlas  go  round  to  the  feat  of 
Morgan,  whofe  name  fliall  be  heard  in  the  fongs 
of  our  children :  the  fight  of  his  ufelefs  fword 
blaftcd  my  foul. 

Fill  up  the  badge  of  honour,  the  golden  hirlas. 
To  Gronwys  bear  it ;  aftonifhed  I  faw  him  (land 
like  a  rock  on  the  fpreading  plain  of  Giveflmn ; 
he  fuftained  the  aflault  of  an  army.  Upon  the 
fandy  bank  of  the  fea  his  attendants  did  wonders. 
The  chief  of  the  foe  was  burnt  in  the  fire  of  his 
rage,  and  the  gleanings  of  the  fword  were  loft  in 
the  ftream. 

In  the  heat  of  the  battle,  the  fon  of  Gryffydh 
.burft  his  chains ;  Menrig  again  raged  in  the  war. 
When  the  fun  fat  on  the  hill,  we  fung  the  fong  of 
victory. 

Fill  the  hirlas  of  mirth  ts  all  the  chiefs  of 
Oweyn,  who  are  the  wolves  of  the  mountain.  Ma- 
doc  and  Meyler  are  in  foul  one  ;  they  are  our 
caftles.  The  warriors  of  the  hill  ftood  round  their 
chief,  ftrong  as  the  fpear  of  Uther,  fwift  in  purfuit 
as  the  vapours  of  the  night. 

Fill  the  hirlas  with  mead.  Let  us  drink 
to  the  honour  of  the  warriors,  who  fell  in  the 
war. 

Bear  it  to  Daniel,  beauteous  as  the  verdure  of 
the  foreft,  favage  as  the  prowling  wolf. 

O  cupbearer  !  great  is  thy  fervice,  indifplaying 
the  merits  of  the  warrior ;  if  thou  haft  not  heard 
his  fame,  his  fpear  flies  to  thy  bread,  and  his  fol 
lowers  drink  thy  blood. 

Whilft  the  lamps  of  joy  are  burning,  let  the 
hirlas  go  round  to  the  warriors  who  fought  at 
Llydcomb  ;  they  fought  with  the  rage  of  lions  ; 
the  mead  is  their  due :  they  defended  Cwrys. 

Let  the  hirlas  go  round.  May  the  Ruler  of  all 
fend  us  liberty  and  life. 

Brijlol,  Jan.  3.  1 770.  D.  B. 

GORTHMUND, 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  SAXON. 

Tnr  loud  winds  whittled  through  the  facred  grove 
of  Thor ;  far  over  the  plains  of  Denania,  were  the 
cries  of  the  fpirits  heard.  The  howl  of  Hubba's 
horrid  voice  fwelled  upon  every  blaft,  and  the 
Ihrill  ihriek  of  the  fair  Locabara,  (hot  through  the 
midnight-iky. 

Gorthmund  flept  on  his  couch  of  purple ;  the 
blood  of  the  (lain  was  ftill  on  his  cruel  hand  :  his 
helmet  was  ftained  with  purple,  and  the  banner  of 
his  father  was  no  more  white.  His  foul  fhud- 
dered  at  the  howl  of  Hubba,  and  the  flirill  ihriek 
of  Locabara:  he  (hook  like  the  trembling  reed,  when 
the  loud  tempeft  rolls  the  foaming  flood  over  the 
pointed  rocks  :  pale  was  his  face  as  the  eglantine, 
which  climbs  the  branches  of  the  flowery  brarn* 


MISCELLANI  ES. 


3*7 


bie.  He  flatted  from  his  couch:  his  blark  locks 
Hood  upright  on  his  head,  like  the  fpears  which 
Hand  round  the  tent  of  the  warriors,  when  the 
filver  moon  fpangles  on  the  tranquil  Jake. 

Why  wilt  thou  torment  me,  Hubba  ;  it  was  not 
r»y  my  hand  that  the  fword  drank  thy  blood.  Who 
i';uv  me  plunpe  the  dagger  to  the  heart  of  Loca- 
bara  ?  No !  Nardin  of  the  foreft  \vas  far  away. 
Ceafe,  ceafc,  thy  fbrieks ;  I  cannot  bear  them. 
On  thy  own  fword  thou  haft  thy  death  ;  and  the 
fair  virgin  of  the  hills  fell  beneath  the  rage  of  the 
mountains.  Leave  me,  leave  me  :  witnefs  Kel*, 
J  knew  not  Locabara,  I  forced  her  not  to  my  em 
braces;  no,  I  flew  her  not;  flie  fell  by  the 
mountaineers.  Leave  ine,  leave  me,  (3  foul  of 
Hubba ! 

Exmundherf,  who  bore  the  f  filver  fliield  of 
Gorthmund,  flew  from  his  downy  couch,  fwift  as 
the  rumour  of  a  coming  hoft.  He  flruck  the  gol 
den  cup,  and  the  king  of  the  flying  warriors 
awakened  from  his  dream  of  terror.  Extnund- 
hert,  is  he  gone?  Strike  the  filver  fhield,  call  up 
the  fons  of  battle,  who  fleep  on  the  moffy  banks  of 
Frotne.  But  (lay,  'tis  all  a  vifion  ;  'tis  over  and 
gone  as  the  image  of  Woden,  in  the  evening  of  a 
fummer-day.  Hence  to  thy  tent,  I  will  fleep  a- 
gain. 

Gorthmund  doubled  his  purple  robe,  and  flept 
again. 

Loud  as  the  noife  of  a  broken  rock  breaking 
down  the  caverns  of  Sedggefwaldfcyre  J,  was  the 
voice  of  Hubba  heard  ;  fliarp  as  the  cry  of  the  bird 
of  death  at  the  window  of  the  wounded  warrior, 
when  the  red  rays  of  the  morning  rife  breaking 
from  the  eaft,  and  the  foul  of  the  fick  is  flying 
away  with  the  darknefs,  was  the  fhriek  of  Locaba 
ra.  Rife  from  thy  couch,  Gorthmund,  thou  wolf 
of  the  evening.  When  the  fun  fhines  in  the  glory 
of  the  day  ;  when  the  labouring  fwain  dances  in 
the  woodland-fhade ;  when  the  Iparkling  ftars 
glimmer  in  the  azure  of  the  night,  and"  content 
ment  fleeps  under  the  ruftic  roof,  thou  flialt  have 

*  Hela,  or  Hel,  'was  the  idol  of  the  Danes,  not, 
as  fame  authors  falfely  ajj'ert,  of  the  Saxons.  He 
was  the  god  of  battle  and  lift  try.  It  is  worthy 
remark,  that  every  pagan  deity  of  the  northern 
nations,  bad  its  fymbol  or  type,  under  ichick  he 
•was  <worjlipped.  The  type  of  tiel  <was  a  black 
raven :  hence  the  Danijh  Jlandard  was  a  raven. 
The  fymbol  of  Woden  it/as  a.  drc.gon,  'which  ivas 
the  ftandard  of  the  Saxons  in  general,  and  the 
arms  of  WeJJ'ex. 

\  The  office  of  fhield  bearer  ivas  very  ancient 
at/d  honourable :  the  leaders  of  armies  had  gene 
rally  three  /hield-bearers  ;  one  to  bear  the  foield, 
painted  or  engraved  'with  the  fymbol  of  the  god, 
and  the  others  were  employed  to  found  tbejbieldt 
of  alarm. 

\  Seoggefwaldfcyre,  from  Seggefwald,  where 
Ethelba/d,  the  ninth  king  of  the  Mercians,  and 
fifteenth  monarch  of  England,  *was  Jlain  in  an  in- 
J'urreftion  ofhisfittyeftf.  This  poem  is  certainly 
older  than  Alfred's  time,  and  is,  among  numerous 
ethers,  a  proof  that  the  diiiijion  cf  England  into 
Jinres,  ivas  no.t  introduced  by  tlat  gtaritus  r.it- 
nartb. 


no  reft.  Thine  are  the  bitter  herbs  of  affliction ; 
for  thee  fliall  the  wormwood  flied  its  feed  on  the 
bloffoms  of  the  blooming  flower,  and  imbitter  with 
its  failing  leaves  the  waters  of  the  brook.  Rife, 
Gorthmund,  rife,  the  Saxons  are  burning  thytents; 
rife,  for  the  Mercians  are  afftmbled  together,  and 
thy  armies  will  be  flain  with  the  fword,  or  burnt 
in  the  image  of  *  Tev.-ilk.  The  god  of  victory 
flinll  be  red  with  thy  blood,  and  they  fhall  fliout 
at  the  facrifice.  Rife,  Goithmuiid,  thy  eyes  fhall 
be  clofed  in  peace  no  more. 

The  king  of  the  fwift  warriors  ftarted  from  his 
couch  ;  he  fhook  like  an  oak  through  which  the 
lightnings  have  cut  their  rapid  way  ;  his  eyes 
rolled  like  the  lights  on  the  Saxons  barks,  in  the 
tempeft  of  the  dark  and  black  night. 

Exmundbert  fltw  to  his  chief;  he  ftruck  the 
filver  fliield.  Sueno  of  the  dark  lake,  and  the 
black-haired  Lecolwin,  caught  the  lance  and  the 
fliield,  and  preft  into  the  royal  tent. 

Warriors,  ftrike  the  fhields  of  alarm  ;  the  Mer 
cians  are  affembled  together;  the  Saxons  arc 
burning  our  tents:  give  the  cry  of  war,  and  iflue 
to  the  battle ;  come  upon  them  by  the  fide  of  the 
thick  wood,  near  the  city  of  f  Reggacefter.  Lift 
the  banner  Reafan  ;  and  he  is  a  worfliipper  of  falfe 
gods,  who  withholds  his  fword  from  blood.  The 
filver  fliield  refour.ded  to  the  wood  of  Sel,  and 
the  }  great  ifland  trembled  at  the  cJamofons  noife. 

Delward  of  the  ftrong  arm,  and  Ax-bred  of  the 
foreft  of  wolves,  led  the  warriors  to  the  thick  wood  s 
but  quiet  was  the  foreft  as  the  tranquil  lake,  when 
the  winds  flecp  on  the  tops  of  the  lofty  trees.  The 
inhabitants  of Reggacefter  flept  in  the  ftrength  of 
their  walls.  The  leader^  returned. 

There  is  no  enemy  near,  O  king  !  ftill  as  the  ha- 
bitation  of  the  dead,  are  the  kingdoms  around  us  : 
they  have  felt  the  ffrength  of  thy  arm,  and  will  no 
mO're  rile  up  to  oppole  us.  As  the  grafs  falls  by 
the  hand  of  the  mower,  fo  fliall  they  fall  before  us, 
and  be  no  more:  The  banner  Reafan  fhall  be  ex 
alted,  and  the  feven  gods  of  the  Saxons  be  tramp 
led  in  the  duft.  Let  the  armies  of  the  north  re 
joice,  let  them  faerifice  to  the  gods  of  war,  and 
bring  out  the  prifoners  for  the  |  feaft  of  blood. 
The  warriors  threw  down  the  lance,  and  the 
fliield,  and  the  ax  of  battle ;  the  plates  of  brals 
dropped  from  their  fhoulders,  and  they  danced  to 
the  found  of  the  §  inftrument  of  facrifice.  Conful- 

*  The  Pagan  Saxons  hdd  a  mofl  inhuman  cnjlom 
of  burning  their  captives  alive  in  a  wicker  image 
of  their  god  Tewft.  tVhilfl  this  horrid  facrifice 
was  performing,  they  'bouted  and  danced  round, 
tbfjkimes. 

\  Rowcejler,  in  Lcrlyjbire,  a  place  of  great 
antiquity. 

\  In  'the  original  Muchilnej.  As  there  were 
federal  iflandt  of  this  name,  the  particular  one 
here  mentioned  is  Aubions. 

[|  The  Danes,  not  to  be  behind  hand  -with  the 
Saxons  in  a8s  of  barbarity,  had  alfu  their  bloody 
facrijices.  Their  captives  were  bound  to  a  Jiake, 
andjbot  to  death  with  arrows. 

§  The  word  in  the  original  is  Regabib*!,  an  in- 
Jirument  of  mv/ic,  of  which,  as  I  know  nothing 
farther,  than  tiat  it  was  nfed  infacrifces,lbavt 


388  THE  WORKS  OF 

ed  as  the  cry  of  the  fleet  dogs,  when  the  white  bear 
is  piirfued  over  the  mountains  of  the  north  ;  con 
futed  as  the  refolutions  of  terror  was  the  noife  of 
the  warriors.  They  danced  till  the  mantle  of 
midnight  afce'nded  from  the  earth. 

The  morning  (hook  the  dew  from  her  crown  of 
rofes,  on  the  yellow  locks  of  the  dancers  ;  and  the 
gleams  of  light  fhot  through  the  dark  gray  fky, 
like  the  reeking  blood  over  the  fhield  of  fteel. 
See,  warriors,  a  dark*  cloud  fits  on  the  mountain's 
brow,  it  will  be  a  tempeft  at  noon,  and  the  heavy 
rains  will  fall  upon  us.  Yes,  ye  *  Danes,  it  will 
be  a  tempeft,  but  a  tempeft  of  war  ;  it  will  rain, 
but  in  fhowers  of  blood.  For  the  dark  cloud  is 
the  army  of  f  Segowald :  he  leads  the  flower  of 
the  warriors  of  Mercia,  and  on  his  right  hand  is 
the  mighty  fon  of  battle,  the  great  Sigebert,  who 
leads  the  warriors  of  Weffex. 

The  dance  was  ended  ;  and  the  captives  of  fa- 
crifice  bound  to  the  facred  tree :  they  panted  in 
the  pangs  of  death. 

Sudden  from  the  borders  of  the  wood,  was  the 
alarm  given  ;  and  the  filver  fhield  roufed  the  fun 
from  behind  the  black  clouds.  The  archers  of 
the  i'acrifice  dropped  the  bow,  and  caught  the 
lance  and  the  fhield.  Confufion  fpread  from 
watch-tower  to  watch-tower,  and  the  clamour 
rung  to  the  diftant  hills. 

Gorthmtind  raged  like  a  wild  boar,  but  he 
raged  in  vain ;  his  whole  army  was  difordered, 
and  the  cry  of  war  was  mixed  with  the  jell  of  re 
treat. 

Segowald  came  near  with  his  Mercians  on  the 
right  hand  :  and  the  great  Sigebert  led  the  Sax 
ons  round  the  thick  w*:od. 

The  Danes  rage  like  the  tempeft  of  winter,  but 
the  Mercians  ft  and  firm  as  the  grove  of  oaks  on  the 
plains  of  f  Ambroifburgh  :  great  is  the  ftrength 
of  the  fwift  warriors  of  the  north,  but  their  troops 
are  broken,  and  out  of  the  order  of  battle. 

Tfce  Saxons,  with  the  great  Sigebert,  have  en 
circled  the  wood ;  they  rage  in  the  fight  like 
evolves.  The  Danes  are  prelfed  on  all  fides;  they 
Jly  like  the  leaves  in  Autumn  before  the  ftrong 
wind. 

Gorthmund  fcorns  to  fly  ;  he  is  defcended  from 
the  Ion  of  battle,  L'AchoIlan,  whofe  fword  put  to 
flight  the  armies  of  Moeric,  when  the  fun  was 
covered  with  a  mantle  of  blood,  and  darknefs 
defcended  upon  the  earth  at  noon-day.  He  bears 
\ipon  his  arm  the  fliield  of  Lofgar,  the  keeper  of  the 
caftle  of  Teigne.  Lofgar  never  fled,  though  the 

tranflated  as  above.  Ribible,  among  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  i-ras  an  inftrumtnt  not  unlike  a  violin, 
but  played  on  ivith  tbe  fingers. 

*  In  the  original  Tahmen,  'which  fignifies  ei- 
tbrr  Danes  or  northern  men. 

L  A  Mercian  of  this  name  commanded  the  ar 
my  of  Offh  ;  and  a  nobleman  named  'Sigebert,  ivns 
vftrreai  account  in  the  court  of  Brigbtrick.  kin? 
ofEfex. 

I  Arnbrejlury,  in  Wiltfiire,  inhere  Alfriiha, 
ii-ife  to  King  Edgar,  built  a  nunnery  to  atone  for 
the  murder  of  her  fon-in-law,  Ediuard.  In  this' 
flare  Eleanor,  quean  to  Henry  the  Third,  lived  a 
nttn. 


CHATTERTON. 

lances  of  the  foe  flew  about  him  numerous  as  the 
winged  ants  in  fummer.  Lofgar  ne%'er  fled, 
though  the  warriors  of  the  mountains  hurled  the 
rocks  upon  him  in  the  valley,  when  he  fought  for 
the  Ihield  of  Penda :  and  fhould  Gorthmund  fly, 
Gorthmund,  whofe  fword  was  his  law,  who  held 
juftice  in  his  banner  ?  » 

Segowald  fought  Gorthmund ;  he  found  him 
fingly  encountering  an  army. 

Turn  to  me,  fon  of  Lofgar  ;  I  am  Segowald  of 
the  lake,  haft  thou  not  heard  of  my  fame  in  battle? 
When  the  army  of  Hengift  panted  on  the  dark- 
brown  heath,  I  cheered  them  to  the  war ;  and  the 
banner  of  victory  waved  over  my  head.  Turn  thy 
arms  upon  me,  Gorthmund,  I  am  worthy  thy 
ftrength. 

The  fon  of  Lofgar  ruflied  to  the  fon  of  Alder- 
wold  ;  they  fought  like  the  children  of  deftniction 
on  the  plain  of  Marocan.  Gorthmund  fell.  He 
fell,  like  the  mountain  boar  beneath  the  arrow  of 
the  hunter. 

As  the  fhades  of  death  danced  before  his  eyes, 
he  heard  the  yell  of  Hubba,  and  the  fhrill  fhriek 
of  Locabara  :  Thou  art  fallen,  thou  fon  of  injuf- 
tice,  thou  art  fallen ;  thy  fliield  is  degraded  in 
the  duft  :  and  thy  banner  will  be  honoured  no 
more  I  Thy  fwift  warriors  are  fled  over  the  plain, 
as  the  driving  flieep  before  the  wolf.  Think, 
Gorthmund,  think  on  Hubba,  the  fon  of  Crine- 
walch  of  the  green  hill.  Think  on  Locabara, 
whom  thy  fword  fent  to  the  regions  of  death. 
Remember  thy  injuftice,  and  die  ! 

NARVA  AND  MORED. 

AN  AFRICAN  ECLOGUE. 

RECITE  the  loves  of  Narva  and  Mored, 
The  prielt  of  Chalma's  triple  idol  faid. 
High  from  the  ground  the  youthful  warriors 

fprung, 

Loud  on  the  concave  fhell  the  lances  rung  : 
In  all  the  myftic  mazes  of  the  dance, 
The  youths  of  Danny's  burning  fands  advance, 
Whilft  the  foft  virgin,  panting,  looks  behind, 
And  rides  upon  the  pinions  of  the  wind  ; 
I  Afcends  the  mountains  brow,  and  meafures  round 
The  fteepy  cliffs  of  Chalma's  facred  ground. 
Chalma,  the  god  whofe  noify  thunders  fly 
Through  the  dark  covering  of  the  midnight  fky. 
Whofe  arm  directs  the  clofe-embattled  hoft, 
And  finks  the  labouring  veffels  on  the  coaft. 
Chalma,  whofe  excellence  is  known  from,  far; 
From  Lupa's  rocky  hill  to  Calabar. 
'I  he  guardian  god  of  Afric  and  the  ifles, 
Where  nature  in  her  ftrongeft  vigour  frailes ;     ' 
Where  the  blue  bloffom  of  the  forky  thorn, 
Bends  with  the  nectar  of  the  op'ning  morn ; 
Where  ginger's  aromatic,  matted  root, 
Creep  through  the  mead,  and  up  the  mountains 

fhoot. 
Three    times    the  virgin,  fwimming    on    the 

breeze, 

Danc'd  in  the  fliadow  of  the  myftic  trees: 
When,  like  a  dark  cloud  fpreading  to  the  view, 
The  firft-born  fons  of  .war  and  blood  purfue  ; 
Swift  as  the  elk  they  j:our  along  the  plain  j 
Swift  as  the  flying  clouds  diftilling  rain. 


MISCELLANIES. 


Swift  as  the  bounding?  of  the  youthful  roe, 
They  courle  around>  and  lengthen  as  they  go. 
Like  the  Ion?  chain  of"  rocks,  whole  fummits  rife 
Far  in  the  (acred  regions  of  the  ikies  ; 
Upon  whole  top  the  black'ning  tenipeft  lours, 
Whilft  down  its  fide  the  gufhing  torrent  pours; 
Like  the  long  cliffy  mountains  which  extend 
'  From  Lorbir's  cave,  to  where  the  nations  end; 
Which  link  in  darknefs,  thick'ning  and  obfcure, 
Impenetrable,  myftic,  and  impure  ; 
The  flying  terrors  of  the  war  advance, 
And,  round  the  facred  oak,  repeat  the  dance. 
Furious  they  twill  around  the  gloomy  trees, 
Like  leaves  in  autumn,  twirling  with  the  breeze. 
So  when  the  fplendour  of  the  dying  day, 
Darts  the  red  luilre  of  the  wat'ry  way  ; 
Sudden  beneath  Toddida's  whittling  brink, 
The  circling  billows  in  wild  eddies  fink, 
Whirl  furious  round,  and  the  loud  burftingwave 
Sinks  down  to  Chalma's  facerdotai  cave, 
Explores  the  palaces  on  Zira'scoalt, 
Where  howls  the  war-fong  of  the  chieftan's  ghoft  ; 
Where  the  artificer  in  realms  below, 
Gilds  the  rich  lance,  or  beautifies  the  bow  ; 
From  the  young  palm-tree  i'pins  the  uleful  twine, 
Or  makes  the  teeth  of  elephants  divine. 
Where  the  pale  children  of  the  feeble  fun, 
In  fearch  of  gold,  through  every  climate  run  : 
From  burning  heat  to  freezing  torments  go, 
And  live  in  all  vicifiltudes  of  woe. 
Like  the  loud  eddies  of  Toddida's  fea, 
The  warriors  circle  the  myfterious  tree  ; 
Till  (pent  with  exercife,  they  fpread  around 
Upon  the  op'ning  blofToms  of  the  ground. 
The  prieftefs  rifing,  fings  the  facred  tale, 
And  the  loud  chorus  echoes  through  the  dale. 

Prieftffi. 

Far  from  the  burning  fands  of  Calabar ; 
Far  from  the  luftre  of  the  morning  ftar  ; 
Far  from  the  pleafure  of  the  holy  morn  ; 
Far  from  the  bleflednefs  of  Chalma's  horn  ; 
Now  reft  the  fouls  of  Narva  and  Mored, 
Laid  in  the  dull,  and  numbcr'd  with  the  dead. 
Dear  are  their  memories  to  us,  and  long, 
Long  fhall  their  attributes  be  known  in  fong. 
Their  lives  were  tranfient  as  the  meadow  ilow'r 
Kipen'd  in  ages,  wither'd  in  an  hour. 
Chalma,  reward  them  in  his  gloomy  cave, 
And  open  all  the  prifons  of  the  grave. 
Bred  to  the  fervice  of  the  godhead's  throne, 
And  living  but  to  ferve  his  God  alone, 
Narva  was  beauteous  as  the  op'ning  day, 
When  on  the  fpangling  waves  the  Inn-beams  play, 
When  the  Mackaw  attending  to  the  iky, 
Views  the  bright  fplendour  with  a  Heady  eye. 
Tall,  as  the  houfe  of  Chalma's  dark  retreat, 
Compact  and  firm,  as  Rhadal  Ynca's  fleet, 
Completely  beauteous  as  a  fummers  fun, 
Was  Narva,  by  his  excellence  undone. 
Where  the  foft  Togla  creeps  along  the  meads, 
Through  fcented  Calamus  and  fragrant  reeds; 
Where  the  fweet  Zinfa  fpreads  its  matted  bed, 
Liv'd  the  ftill  fweeter  flow'r,  the  young  Mored ; 
Black  was  her  face,  as  Tolga's  hidden  cell ; 
Soft  as  the  mofs  where  hiding  adders  dwell. 
As  to  the  facred  court  (he  brought  a  fawn, 
The  fportive  tenant  of  the  fnicy  lawn, 


She  faw  and  lov'd  !   And  Narva  too  forgot 
His  facred  veilment  and  his  myltic  lot. 
Long  had  the  mutual  figh,  the  mutual  tear, 
Burn:  from  the  breaft,  and  fcora'd  confinement 

there. 

Exiftence  was  a  torment '.  O  my  breaft  ! 
Can  I  find,  accents  to  unfold  the  reft  : 
Lock'd  in  each  others  arms,  from  Hyga's  cave, 
They  plung'd  relentlcfs  to  a  wat'ry  grave  ; 
And,  falling,  murmur'd  to  the  pow'rs  above— 
"  Gods,  take  our  lives,  unlefs  we  live  to  love  !" 
Sboreditcb,  May  a.  1770.  C. 

THE  DEATH  OF  NICOU. 

AN  AFRICAN  ECLOGUE. 

ON  Tiber's  banks,  Tiber,  whofe  waters  glide 
In  flow  meanders  down  to  Gaigra's  fide; 
And,  circling  all  the  horrid  mountain  round, 
Rulhes  impetuous  to  the  deep  profound; 
Rolls  o'er  the  ragged  rocks  with  hideous  yell, 
Collects  its  waves  beneath  the  earth's  valt  ihdl: 
There  for  a  while  in  loud  confulion  hurl'd, 
It  crumbles  mountains  down,  and  ihakes  the  world. 
Till  borne  upon  the  pinions  of  the  air, 
Through  the  rent  earth  the  burltingwaves  appear; 
Fiercely  propell'd,  the  whiten'd  billows  rile, 
Break  from  the  cavern,  and  afcend  the  Ikies ; 
Then  lolt  and  conquer'd  by  fuperior  force, 
Through  hot  Arabia  holds  its  rapid  courle. 
On  Tiber's  banks  where  fcarlet  jali"'rmnes  bloom, 
And  purple  aloes  flied  a  rich  perfume  ; 
Where,  whftn  the  fun  is  melting  in  his  heat, 
The  recking  tygers  find  a  cool  retreat ; 
Balk  in  the  ledges,  lofe  the  fultry  beam, 
And  wanton  with  their  fhadows  in  the  itream, 
On  Tiber's  banks,  by  facred  priefts  rever'd, 
Wherein  the  days  of  old  a  god  appo-ir'd  ; 
'Twas  in  the  dead  of  night,  at  Chalma's  feaft, 
The  tribe  of  Alra  flept  around  the  pried. 
He  fpoke  ;  as  evening  thunders  burfting  near, 
His  horrid  accents  broke  upon  the  ear  ; 
Attend,  Alraddas,  with  your  facred  piieft  '. 
This  day  the  fun  is  riling  in  the  eaft  ; 
The  fun,  which  fhall  illumine  all  the  earth, 
Now,  now  is  rifing,  in  a  mortal  birrh. 
He  vanifh'd  like  a  vapour  of  the  night, 
And  funk  away  in  a  faint  blaze  of  light. 
Swift  from  the  branches  of  the  holy  oak, 
Horror,  confufion,  fear,  and  torment  broke  ; 
And  itill  when  midnight  trims  her  mazy  lamp, 
They   take   their   way   through    Tiber's   wat'ry 

fwamp. 

On  Tiber's  banks,  clofe  rank'd,  a  warring  train, 
Stretch'd  to  the  diftant  edge  of  Galca's  plain  : 
So  when  arriv'd  at  Gaigra's  highelt  fteep, 
We  view  the  wide  expanfion  of  the  deep; 
See  in  the  gilding  of  her  wat'ry  robe, 
The  quick  declenfion  of  the  circling  globe ; 
From  the  blue  fea  a  chain  of  mountains  rife, 
Blended  at  once  with  water  and  with  fkies  : 
Beyond  our  fight  in  vaft  extenfion  curl'd, 
The  check  of  waves,  the  guardians  of  the  world. 
Strong  were  the  warriors,  as  the  ghoft  of  Cawn, 
Who  threw  the  Hill-of-archers  to  the  lawn  -. 
When  the  foft  earth  at  his  appearance  fled. 
And  rifing  billows  play'd  around  his  head  ; 
Bb  iij 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTERTON. 


When  a  ftrong  tempeft  rifing  from  the  main, 
Dafh'd  the  full  clouds,  unbroken  on  the  plain. 
Nicou,  immortal  in  the  facred  fong, 
Held  the  red  fworcl  of  war,  and  led  the  ftrong ; 
From  his  own  tribe  the  fable  warriors  came, 
Well  try'd  in  battle,  and  well  known  in  fame. 
Nicou,  defcended  from  the  god  of  war, 
Who  liv'd  coeval  with  the  morning  ibar ; 
Narada  was  his  name ;  who  cannot  tell, 
How  all  the  world  through  great  Narada  fell ! 
Vichon,  the  god  who  rul'd  above  the  ikies, 
Lpok'd  on  Narada  but  with  envious  eyes. 
The  warrior  dar'd  him,  ridicul'd  his  might, 
Bent  his  white  bow,  and  fummon'd  him  to  fight. 
Vichon,  difdainful,  bade  his  lightnings  fly, 
And  fcatter'd  burning  Arrows  in  the  iky; 
Threw  down  a  ftar  the  armour  of  his  feet, 
To  burn  the  air  with  fupernat'ral  heat; 
Bid  a  loud  tempeft  roar  beneath  the  ground  ; 
Lifted  the  fea,  and  all  the  earth  was  drown'd. 
Narada  ftill  efcap'd  ;  a  facred  tree 
Lifted  him  up,  and  bore  him  through  the  fea. 
The  waters  ftill  afcending  fierce  and  high, 
He  tower'd  into  the  chambers  of  the  flcy  : 
There  Vichon  fat;  his  armour  on  his  bed, 
He  thought  Narada  with  the  mighty  dead. 
Before  his  feat  the  heavenly  warrior  ftands, 
The  lightning  quiv'ring  in  his  yellow  hands. 
The  god,  aftonifh'd,  dropt ;  hurl'd  from  the  fhprc, 
He  dropp'd  to  torments,  and  to  rife  no  more. 
Headlong  he  falls;  'tis  his  own  arms  compel, 
C'ondemn'd  in  ever-burning  fires  to  dwell. 
From  this  Narada,  mighty  Nicou  fprung ; 
The  mighty  Nicou,  furious,  wild,  and  young; 
Who  led  th   embattled  archers  tg  the  field, 
And  bore  a  thunderbolt  upon  his  fhield  : 
That  fhield  his  glorious  father  died  to  gain, 
"When  the  white  warriors  fled  along  the  plain : 
When  the  full  fails  could  not  provoke  the  flepd, 
Till  Nicou  came,  and  fwell'd  the  feas  with  blood. 
Slow  at  the  end  of  his  robuft  array, 
The  mighty  warrior  penfive  took  his  way  : 
Againft  the  fon  of  Nair,  the  young  Koreft, 
Once  the  companion  of  his  youthful  bread. 
Strong  were  the  pafiions  of  the  fon  of  Nair, 
Strong,  as  the  tempefh  of  the  evening  air. 
Infatiate  in  defence  ;  fierce  as  the  boar  ; 
Firm  in  refolve  as  Cannie's  rocky  fhore. 
Long  had  the  gods  endeavour'd  to  deftroy, 
All  Nicou's  friendfhip,  happinefs,  and  joy  : 
They  fought  in  vain,  till  Vicat,  Vichon's  fon, 
Never  in  feats  of  wickednefs  outdone, 
Saw  Nica,  fifter  to  the  mountain  king, 
Dreft  beautiful,  with  all  the  flowers  of  fpring  : 
He  faw  and  fcatter'd  poifon  in  her  eyes  ; 
From  limb  to  limb,  in  varied  forms  he  flies ; 
Dwelt  on  her  crimfon  lip,  and  added  grace 
To  every  glofly  feature  of  her  face> 
Roreft  was  fir'd  with  paffion  at  the  fight, 
Friendfhip  and  honour  funk  to  Vicat's  right : 
He  faw,  he  lov'd,  and  burning  with  defire, 
Bore  the  foft  maid  from  brother,  filler,  fire. 
Pining  with  forrow,  Nica  faded,  died, 
Like  a  fair  aloe  in  its  morning  pride. 
This  brought  the  warrior  to  the  bloody  mead, 
And  fen:  to  young  Roreft  the  threat'niug  reed. 
He  drew  his  army  forth  :  Oh  !  need  I  tell ! 
That  Nicou  ccncjucr'dj and  the  lover  fell: 


His  brcathlefs  army  mantled  all  the  plain  ; 
And  death  fat  {'railing  on  the  heaps  of  flain. 
The  battle  ended,  with  his  recking  dart, 
The  penfive  Nicou  pkrc'd  his  beating  heart : 
And  to  his  mourning  valiant  warriors  cry'd, 
I,  and  my  filler's  ghofb  are  fatisfy'd. 
Brooke-Street,  June  12. 

ELEGY, 

To  tie  Memory  of  JVfr.  Thomas  Phillips  of  Fairford, 

No  more  I  hail  the  morning's  golden  gleam  j 
No  more  the  wonders  of  the  view  1  fing  : 
i-'riendfhip  requires  a  melancholy  theme  ; 
At  her  command  the  awful  lyre  I  firing. 

Now  as  I  wander  through  this  leafiefs  grove, 
Where  the  dark  vapours  of  the  ev'ning  rife, 
How  fhall  I  teach  the  chorded  fhell  to  move ; 
Or  ftay  the  gufhing  torrents  from  my  eyes  ? 

Phillips,  great  mafter  of  the  boundlefs  lyre, 
Thee  would  the  grateful  mufe  attempt  to  paint; 
Give  me  a  double  portion  of  thy  fire, 
Or  all  the  pow'rs  of  language  are  too  faint. 

Say  what  bold  number,  what  immortal  line 
The  image  of  thy  genius  can  reflect  ? 
O,  lend  my  pen  what  animated  thine, 
To  fhow  thee  in  thy  native  glories  deckt. 

The  joyous  charms  of  Spring  delighted  faw, 
Their  beauties  doubly  glaring  in  thy  lay : 
Nothing  was  Spring  which  Phillips  did  not  draw, 
And  ev'ry  image  of  his  mufe  was  May. 

So  rofe  the  regal  hyacinthal  ftar ; 
So  fhone  the  pleaiant  ruflic  daified  bed ; 
So  feem'd  the  woodlands  lefs'ning  from  afar  ; 
You  faw  the  real  profpeft  as  you  read. 

Majeflic  Summer's  blooming  flow'ry  pride 
Next  claim'd  the  honour  of  his  nervous  fong ; 
He  taught  the  flream  in  hollow  trills  to  glide, 
And  lead  the  glories  of  the  year  along. 

When  golden  Autumn,  wreath'd  in  ripen'd  corn, 
From  purple  cluilers  prefs'd  the  foamy  wine, 
Thy  genius  did  his  fallow  brows  adorn, 
And  made  the  beauties  of  the  fealbn  thine. 

Pale  rugged  Winter  bending  o'er  his  tread, 
His  grizzled  hair  bedropt  with  icy  dew  ; 
His  eyes,  a  dufky  light,  congeal'cl  and  dead ; 
His  robe,  a  tinge  of  bright  ethereal  blue  : 

His  train,  a  motley'd,  fanguine,  fable  cloud, 
He  limps  along  the  ruffet  dreary  moor  ; 
Whilil  rifing  whirlwinds,  blaHing,  keen,  and  loud, 
Roll  the  white  furges  to  the  founding  fhore. 

Nor  were  his  pleafures  unimprov'd  by  thee  ; 
Pleafures  he  has,  though  horridly  deform'd  : 
The  filver'd  hill,  the  polifh'd  lake,  we  fee, 
Is  by  thy  genius  fix'd,  preferv'd,  and  warm'd. 

The  rough  November  has  his  pleafures  too  ; 
But  I'm  infcnfible  to  every  joy  : 
Farewell  the  laurel,  now  I  grafp  the  yew, 
And  all  my  little  powers  in  grief  employ. 

In  thee  each  virtue  .found  a  pleafing  cell, 
Tli/  mind  was  honour,  and  thy  foul  divine,: 


MISCELLANIES. 


391 


With  thce  did  ev'ry  power  of  genius  dwell : 
Thou  were  the  Helicon  of  all  the  nine. 

Fancy  whofe  various  figure-tJndlur'd  veft, 
Was  eve r  changing  to  a  different  hue : 
Her  head,  with  varied  bays  and  flow'rcts  drefl, 
Her  eyes,  two  fpangles  of  the  morning  dew. 

In  dancing  attitude  (he  fwept  thy  firing, 
And  now  fhe  foars  and  now  again  defcends, 
And  now  reclining  on  the  zephyr's  wing, 
Unto  the  velvet-veded  mead  fhe  bends. 

Peace,  deck'd  in  all  the  foftnefs  of  the  dove, 
Over  thy  pafTrons  fpread  her  filver  plume  : 
The  rofy  vale  of  harmony  and  love, 
Hung  on  thy  foul  in  one  eternal  bloom. 

Peace,  gentled,  fofteft  of  the  virtues,  fpread 
Her  filver  pinions,  wet  with  dewy  tears, 
Upon  her  heft  diftinguifh'd  poet's  head, 
And  taught  his  lyre  the  mufic  of  the  fpheres. 

Tcmp'rance,  with  health  and  beauty  in  her  train, 
And  maffy-mufcled  Strength  in  graceful  pride, 
Pointed  at  fcarlct  Luxury  and  Pain, 
And  did  at  every  cheerful  feaft  prefide. 

Content,  who  fmiles  at  all  the  frowns  of  fate, 
Fann'd  from  idea  ev'ry  leeming  ill ; 
In  thy  own  virtue,  and  thy  genius  great, 
The  happy  mufe  laid  anxious  troubles  ftill. 

But  fee !  the  fick'ned  glare  of  day  retires, 
And  the  meek  ev'ning  {hades  the  dufky  gray  : 
The  weft  faint  glimmers  with  the  faffron  fires, 
And,  like  thy  life,  O  Phillips  !  dies  away. 

Here,  flretch'd  upon  thisheay'n  afcending  hill, 
I'll  wait  .the  horrors  of  the  coming  night ; 
I'll  imitate  the  gently-plaintive  rill, 
And  by  the  glare  of  lambent  vapours  write. 

Wet  with  the  dew  the  yellow'd  hawthorns  bow  ; 
The  loud  winds  whittle  through  the  echoing  dell ; 
Far  o'er  the  lea  the  breathing  cattle  low, 
And    the   fhrill    fhriekings   of    the    icreech-owl 
fwell.  , 

With  ruflling  found  the  dufky  foliage  flies, 
And  wantons  with  the  wind  in  rapid  whirls : 
The  gurg'ling  riv'let  to  the  valley  hies, 
And  loft  to  light,  in  dying  murmurs  curls. 

Now  as  the  mantle  of  the  ev'ning  fwells 
Upon  my  mind,  I  feel  a  thick'ning  gloom  ! 
Ah !  could  I  charm,  by  friendfhip's  potent  fpells, 
The  foul  of  Phillips  from  the  deathy  tomb  ! 

Then  would  we  wander  through  the  dark'nec 

vale, 

In  converfe  fuch  as  heav'nly  fpirits  ufe, 
And  borne  upon  the  plumage  of  the  gale, 
Hymn  the  Creator,  and  exhort  the  mufe. 

But  horror  to  reflection !  Now  no  more 
Will  Phillips  fing,  the  wonder  of  the  plain, 
When  doubting  whether  they  might  not  adore, 
Admiring  mortals  heard  the  nervous  flrain. 

A  madd'ning  darknefs  reigns  through  all  the 

lawn, 

Naught  but  a  doleful  bell  of  death  is  heard, 
Save  where  into  an  hoary  oak  withdrawn, 
The  fcream  proclaims  the  curft  nocturnal  bird. 


Now,  reft  my  mufe,  but  only  reft  to  weep, 
A  friend  made  dear  by  every  fucred  tie  ! 
Jnknown  to  me  be  comfort,  peace,  or  fleep, 
Phillips  is  dead,  'tis  pleafure  then  to  die ! 

FEBRUARY, 

AN  ELEGY. 

BECUN,  my  mufe,  the  imitative  lay, 
Aonian  doxies  found  the  thrumming  firing; 
Attempt  no  number  of  the  plaintive  Gray, 
Let  me  like  midnight  cats,  or  Collins  fing. 

If  in  the  trammels  of  the  doleful  line, 
The  bounding  hail,  or  drilling  rain  defcend ; 
Come,  brooding  Melancholy,  pow'r  divine, 
And  ev'ry  unform'd  mafs  of  words  amend. 

Now  the  rough  goat  withdraws  his  curling  horn*, 
And  the  cold  wat'rer  twirls  his  circling  mop : 
Swift  fudden  anguifh  darts  through  alt'ring  corns, 
And  the  fpruce  mercer  trembles  in  his  fliop. 

Now  infant  authors,  madd'ning  for  renown, 
Extend  the  plume,  and  hum  about  the  ftage, 
Procure  a  benefit,  amufe  the  town, 
And  proudly  glitter  in  a  title  page. 

Now,  wiapt  in  ninefold  fur,  his  fqueamifh  grace 
Defies  the  fury  of  the  howling  florm ; 
And  whilft  the  temped  whittles  round  his  face, 
Exults  to  find  his  mantled  carcafe  warm. 

Now  rumbling  coaches  furious  drive  along, 
Full  of  the  majedy  of  city  dames, 
Whofe  jewels  iparkling  in  the  gaudy  throng, 
Raiie  drange  emotions  and  invidious  flames. 

Now  Merit,  happy  in  the  calm  of  place, 

To  mortals  as  a  Highlander  appears, 

And  confcious  of  the  excellence  of  lace, 

With  Ipreading  frogs  and  gleaming  fpangles  glares. 

Whilft  Envy,  on  a  tripod  feated  nigh, 
In  form  a  fhoc-boy,  daubs  the  valu'd  fruit, 
And  darting  lightnings  from  his  vengeful  eye, 
Raves  about  Wilkes,  and  politics,  and  Bute, 

Now  Barry,  taller  than  a  grenadier, 
Dwindles  into  a  dripling  of  eighteen  ; 
Or  fabled  in  Othello  breaks  the  ear, 
F.xerts  his  voice,  and  totters  to  the  fcene. 

Now  Foote,  a  looking-glafs  for  all  mankind, 
Applies  his  wax  to  perfonul  defects; 
But  leaves  untouch'd  the  image  of  the  mind, 
His  art  no  mental  quality  reflects. 


yfli 
His  graceful  action  faves  the  wooden  line. 

Now — But  what  further  can  the  mufts  fing  ? 
Now  dropping  particles  of  water  fall ; 
Now  vapours  riding  on  the  north  wind's  winj, 
With  tranfitory  darknefs  fhadows  all. 

Alas  !  how  joylefs  the  defcriptive  theme, 
When  forrow  on  the  writer's  quiet  preys : 
And  like  a  moufe  in  Chefhire  cheefe  fupremr, 
Devours  the  fubilancc  of  the  lefs'ning  bays.    * 

Come,  February,  lend  thy  darkeft  fky, 
There  tench  the  winter'd  mufe  with  clouds  to  fear : 
Bbiiij 


392 


THE   WORKS   OF  CHATTERTON. 


Come,  February,  lift  the  number  high ; 

Let  the  fliarp  ftrain  like  wind  through  alleys  roar. 

Ye  channels,  vrand'ring  through  the  fpaciousftreet, 
In  hollow  murmurs  roll  the  dirt  along, 
With  inundations  wet  the  fabled  feet, 
Whilft  gouts  refponfive,  join  th'  elegiac  fong. 

Ye  damfels  fair,  whofe  filver  voices  (brill 
Sound  through  meand'ring  folds  of  Echo's  horn  ; 
Let  the  fweet  cry  of  liberty  be  ftill, 
No  more  let  fmoking  cakes  awake  the  morn. 

O,  Winter !  put  away  thy  fhowy  pride; 
O,  Spring  !  neglect  the  cowflip  and  the  bell ; 
O,  Summer  !  throw  thy  pears  and  plums  afide  ; 
O,  Autumn  !  bid  the  grape  \vith  poifon  fwell. 

The  penfion'd  mufe  of  Johnfon  is  no  more  ! 
Drown'din  a  butt  of  wine  his  genius  lies  : 
Earth  !  Ocean  !  Hcav'n  !   the  wond'rous  lofs  de 
plore, 
The  dregs  of  Nature  with  her  glory  dies. 

What  iron  Stoic  can  fupprefs  the  tear  ; 
What  four  reviewer  read  with  vacant  eye  ! 
What  bard  but  decks  his  literary  bier  ! 
Alas !  I  cannot  fing— I  howl*—!  cry — 

£r!plt  Fet.  12.  D. 

ELEGY, 
O/'.  W.  Bedford,  I-ffaire. 

WEEP  on,  ye  Britons— give  your  gen'ral  tear; 

But  hence,  ye  veual — hence,  each  titled  fiavc  ; 
AH  honeft  pang  fhould  wait  on  Beckford's  bier, 

And  patriot  anguifii  mark  the  patriot's  grave. 

When  like  the  Roman  to  his  field  rctir'd, 

'Twr.s  you  (furrounded  by  unnumber'd  foes), 

Who  call'd  him  forth',  his  fervices  requir'd, 
And  took  from  age  the  bleflmg  of  repofe. 

With  foul  impcll'd  by  virtue's  facred  flame, 
To  ftem  the  torrent  of  corruption's  tide, 

He  came,  heav'n  fraught  with  liberty  !  He  came 
And  nobly  in  his  country's  fervice  died. 

In  The  laft  awful,  the  departing  hour, 

When  life's  poor  lamp  more  faint>  and  fainter 

grew ; 
A<  mem'ry  feebly  exercis'd  her  power, 

He  cnly  felt  for  liberty  and  you. 

He  vietv-'d  death's  arrows  with  a  Chriftian  eye, 

With  firmnefsonly  to  a  Chriftiarf  known ; 
And  nobly  gave  your  miferies  that  figh 
'     With  which  he  never  gratified  his  own. 

Thou,  breathing  fculpture,  celebrate  his  fame, 
And  give  his  laurel  everlafting  bloom  ; 

Receive  his  worth  while  gratitude  has  name, 
And  teach  fact-ceding  ages  from  his  tomb. 

The  fvord  of  juftice  cautioufly  he  fway'd, 
His  hand  for  ever  held  the  balance  right; 

Each  venial  fault  with  pity  he  furvey'd, 
But  murder  found  no  mercy  in  his  fight. 


;  i'ls  not  the  (.ourtier's  icteicil  he  mould  hear. 


Hence,  honeft  to  hi*  prince,  his  manly  tongnt, 
The  public  wrong  and  loyalty  convey'd, 

While  titled  tremblers,  ev'fy  nerve  unftrung, 
Look'd  all  around,  confounded  and  difmay'd. 

Look  all  around,  aflonifh'd  to  behold, 

(Train'd  np  to  flatt'ry  from  their  early  youth) 

An  artlefs,  fearlefs  citizen,  unfoU 
To  royal  ears,  a  mortifying  truth. 

Titles  to  him  no  pleafure  could  impart, 
No  bribes  his  rigid  virtue  could  controul ; 

The  ftar  could  never  gain  upon  his  heart, 
Nor  turn  the  tide  of  honour  in  his  foul. 

For  this  his  name  our  hift'ry  fhall  adorn, 

Shall  foar  on  fame's  wide  pinions  all  fublime* 

Till  heaven's  own  bright,  and  never  dying  morn 
Abfoi  bs  our  little  particle  of  time. 

ELEGY. 

HASTZ,  hafle,  ye  folemn  mefkngers  of  night. 
Spread  the  black  mantle  on  the  mrinking  plain  \ 
But,  ah  !  my  torments  ftill  furvive  the  light, 
The  changing  feafons  alter  not  my  pain. 
Yc  variegated  children  of  the  fpring ; 
Ye  bloffomsblufhing  with  the  pearly  dew ; 
Yc  birds  that  fweetly  in  the  hawthorn  fing ; 
Ye  flow'ry  meadows,  lawns  of  verdant  hue, 
Faint  are  your  colours;  harlh  your  love-notes 

thrill, 

To  me  no  pleafure  nature  now  can  yield : 
Alike  the  barren  rock  and  woody  hill, 
The  dark-brown  blafted  heath,  and  fruitful  field. 
Ye  fpouting  cataracts,  ye  filver  ftreams  ; 
Ye  fpacious  rivers,  whom  the  willow  flirowds ; 
Afcend  the bright-crown'd  fun's  far-fhining  beams, 
To  aid  the  mournful  tear-diftilling  clouds. 
Ye  noxious  vapours,  fall  upon  my  head  ; 
Ye  writhing  adders,  round  my  feet  entwine ; 
Ye  toads,  your  venom  in  my  foot-path  fpread ; 
Ye  blafting  meteors,  upon  me  fhine. 
Ye  circling  feafons,  intercept  the  year; 
Forbid  the  beauties  of  the  fpring  to  rife ; 
Let  not  the  life-preferving  grain  appear ; 
Let  howling  tempefls  harrow  up  the  ikies. 
Ye  cloud-girt,  mofs-grown  turrets,  look  no  more 
Into  the  palace  of  the  god  of  day  : 
Ye  loud  tempefluous  billows,  ceafe  to  roar, 
In  plaintive  numbers,  through  the  valleys  ftray. 
Ye  verdant-vefted  trees,  forget  to  grow, 
Cafl  off  the  yellow  foliage  of  your  pride  : 
Ye  foftly  tinkling  riv'lets,  ceafe  to  flow, 
Or  fwell'd  with  certain  death  and  poifou,  glide. 
Ye  folemn  warblers  of  the  gloomy  night, 
That  reft  in  lightning^blafted  oaks  the  day, 
Through  the  black  mantles  take  your  flow-pac'd 

flight, 

Rending  the  filent  wood  with  fhrieking  lay. 
Ye  fncw-crown'd  mountains,  loft  to;mortal  eyes, 
Down  to  the  valleys  bend  your  hoary  head, 
Ye  livid  comets,  fire  the  peopled  ikies—. 
For — Jady  Betty's  tabby  cat  is  dead. 

TO  MR.  HOLLAND. 

WHAT  numbers,  Holland,  can  the  mufes  find. 

To  fing  thy  merit  in  each  varied  part ; 
When  aclion,  eloquence,  and  eafe  combin'd, 
nature  but  a  copy  of  thy  art. 


MISCELLANIES. 


Majeftic  as  the  eagle  on  the  wing, 

Or  the  young  iky-helm'd  mountain- rooted  tree 
Pleafing  as  meadows  blulhing  with  the  fpring, 

Loud  as  the  furges  of  the  Severn  fea. 

In  terror's  drain,  as  clanging  armies  drear ! 

In  love,  as  Jove,  too  great  for  mortal  praife, 
In  pity  gentle  as  the  falling  tear, 

In  all  iuperior  to  my  feeble  lays. 

Black  angers  fudden  rife,  ecftatic  pain, 
Tormenting  jealoufy'sfelf-cank'ring  fting ; 

Containing  envy  with  her  yelling  train, 

Fraud  clolely  fhrouded  with  the  turtle's  wing. 

Whatever  paffions  gall  the  human  bread, 
Play  in  thy  features,  and  await  thy  nod ; 

In  thee  by  art,  the  demon  ftands  confeft, 
But  nature  on  thy  foul  has  llamp'd  the  god. 

So  juft  thy  action  with  thy  part  agrees, 
Each  feature  does  the  office  of  a  tongue ; 

Such  is  thy  native  elegance  and  eafe, 

By  thee  the  harih  line  fmoothly  glides  along. 

At  thy  feign'd  woe  we're  really  diftreft, 
At  thy  feign'd  tears  we  let  the  real  tall ; 

By  every  judge  of  nature  'tis  confeft, 
No  fmgle  part  is.thine,  thou'rt  all  in  all. 
£riftoltjulyii.  D.  B. 


ON  MR.  ALCOCK  OF  BRISTOL, 

AN  EXCELLENT  MINIATURE  PAINTER. 

YE  nine,  awake  the  chorded  (hell, 
Whilft  I  the  praife  of  Alcock  tell 

In  truth-dictated  lays  : 
On  wings  of  genius  take  thy  flight, 
O  mufe  !  above  the  Olympic  height, 

Make  echo  fing  his  praife. 

Nature  in  all  her  glory  dreft, 

Her  flow'ry  crown,  her  verdant  veft, 

Her  zone  ethereal  blue, 
Receives  new  charms  from  Alcock's  hand  ; 
The  eye  furveys,  at  his  command, 

Whole  kingdoms  at  a  view. 

His  beauties  feem  to  roll  the  eye, 
And  bids  the  real  arrows  fly, 

To  wound  the  gazer's  mind  ; 
So  taking  are  his  men  difplay'd, 
That  oft  th'  unguarded  wounded  maid, 

Hath  wilh'd  the  painter  blind. 

His  pictures  like  to  nature  fhow, 
The  filver  fountains  feem  to  flow  ;1 

The  hoary  woods  to  nod  : 
The  curling  hair,  the  flowing  drefs, 
The  fpeaking  attitude,  confefs 

The  fancy-forming  god. 

Ye  claflic  Roman-loving  fools, 

Say,  could  the  painters  of  the  fchools, 

With  Alcock's  pencil  vie  ? 
He  paints  the  paffions  of  mankind, 
»A:id  in  the  face  difplays  the  mind, 

dunning  the  heart  an4  e>e. 


Thrice  happy  artiil,  roufe  thy  pow'rs, 
And  fend,  in  wonder-giving  ihow'rs. 

Thy  beauteous  works  to  view  ; 
Envy  fhall  ficken  at  thy  name, 
Italians  leave  the  chair  of  fame, 

And  own  the  feat  thy  due. 
Briftol,  Jan.  29.  1769.  ASAPHIDES. 

TO  MISS  B— SH  OF  BRISTOL. 

BEFORE  I  feek  the  dreary  fhore, 
Where  Gambia's  rapid  billows  roar, 

And  foaming  pour  along  ; 
To  you  I  urge  the  plaintive  ftrain, 
And  though  a  lover  lings  in  vain, 

Yet  you  fhall  hear  the  foiig. 

Ungrateful,  cruel,  lovely  maid, 
Since  all  my  torments  were  repaid 

With  frowns  or  languid  fneers ; 
With  affi Juities  no  more 
Your  captive  will  your  health  implore) 

Nor  teafe  you  with  his  tears. 

Now  to  the  regions  where  the  fun 
Does  his  hot  courfe  of  glory  run, 

And  parches  up  the  ground  : 
Where  o'er  the  burning  cleaving  plains, 
A  long  external  dog-ftar  reigns, 

And  fplendour  flames  around  : 

There  will  I  go,  yet  not  to  find 
A  fire  intenfer  than  my  mind, 

Which  burns  a  conftant  flame  : 
There  will  I  lofe  thy  heavenly  form, 
Nor  fliall  remembrance,  raptur'd,  warm, 

Draw  fliadows  of  thy  frame. 

In  the  rough  element  the  fea, 
I'll  drown  the  fofter  fubject,  thee, 

And  fink  each  lovely  charm  : 
No  more  my  bofom  fliall  be  torn; 
No  more  by  wild  ideas  borne, 

I'll  cheriih  the  alarm. 

Yet,  Polly,  could  thy  heart  be  kino*, 
Soon  would  my  feeble  purpofe  find 

_Thy  fway  within  my  bread  : 
But  hence,  foft  fcenes  of  painted  woe, 
Spite  of  the  dear  delight  I'll  go, 
Forget  her,  and  be  bleft. 
D.  CELORIMON. 

THE  ADVICE. 

ADDRESSED  TO  MISS  M -.  R ,  OF  BRISTOL. 

REVOLVING  in  their  deftin'd  fphere, 
The  hours  begin  another  year 

As  rapidly  to  fly  ; 
Ah  !  think,  Maria,  (e'er  in  grav 
Thofe  auburn  trefles  fade  away)  ; 

So  youth  and  beauty  die. 

Though  now  the  captivated  throng 
Adore  with  flattery  and  long, 

And  all  before  you  bow ; 
Whilft  un attentive  to  the  ftrain, 
You  hear  the  humble  mufe  complain, 

Or  wreath  your  frowning  brow. 


'39', 


THE   WORKS   OF   CHATTERTON. 


Though  poor  Pitholeon's  feeble  line, 
In  oppofition  to  the  nine, 

Still  violates  your  name  ; 
Though  tales  of  paflion  meanly  told, 
As  dull  as  Cumberland,  as  cold 

Strive  to  confefs  a  flame. 
Yet  when  that  bloom  and  dancing  fire, 
In  lilver'd  rev'rence  mall  expire, 

Ag'd,  wrinkl'd,  and  dcfac'd  : 
To  keep  one  lover's  flame  alive, 
Requires  the  genius  of  a  Clive, 

With  Walpole's  mental  tafte. 
Though  rapture  wantons  in  your  air, 
Though  beyond  fimile  you're  fair ; 

Free,  affable,  ferene : 
Yet  ftill  one  attribute  divine, 
Should  in  your  competition  ihine  ; 

Sincerity,  I  mean. 

Though  num'rous  fwains  before  you  fall ; 
»Tis  empty  admiration  all, 

'Tis  all  that  you  require : 
How  momentary  are  their  chains ! 
Like  you,  how  infmcere  the  (trains 

Of  thofe,  who  but  admire  '. 
Accept,  for  once,  advice  from  me, 
And  let  the  eye  of  cenfure  fee 

Maria  can  be  true  : 
No  more  from  fools  or  empty  beaux, 
Heav'n's  reprefentatives  difclofe, 

Or  butterflies  purfue. 
Fly  to  your  worthieft  lover's  arms, 
To  him  refign  your  fwelling  charms, 

And  meet  his  generous  breaft  : 
Or  if  Pitholeon  fuits  your  tafte, 
His  mufe  with  tatter'd  fragments  grac'd, 

Shall  read  your  cares  to  reft.  D. 

THE  COPERNICAN  SYSTEM. 

THE  fun  revolving  on  his  axis  turns, 
And  with  creative  nre  intenfely  burns; 
Impell'd  the  forcive  air,  our  earth  fupreme, 
Rolls  with  the  planets  round  the  folar  gleam  ; 
Firft  Mercury  completes  his  tranfient  year, 
Glowing,  refulgent,  with  reflected  glare ; 
Bright  Venus  occupies  a  wider  way, 
The  early  harbinger  of  night  and  day  ; 
More  diftant  ftill  our  globe  terraqueous  turns, 
Nor  chills  intenfe,  nor  fiercely  heated  burns; 
Around  her  rolls  the  lunar  orb  of  light, 
Trailing  her  filver  glories  through  the  night : 
On  the  earth's  orbit  fee  the  various  figns,, 
Mark  where  the  fun,  our  year  completing,  ihines: 
Firft  the  bright  Ram  his  languid  rr.y  improves; 
Next  glaring  wat'ry  through  the  Bull  he  moves; 
The  am'rous  Twins  admit  his  genial  ray  ; 
Now  burning,  through  the  Crab  he  takes  his  way  j 
The  Lion,  flaming,  bears  the  folar  power  ; 
The  Virgin  faints  beneath  the  fultry  fliower. 

Now  the  juft  Balance  weighs  his  equal  force, 
The  flimy  Serpent  fwelters  in  his  courfe  ; 
The  fabled  Archer  clouds  his  languid  face  ; 
The  Goat,  with  tempefts,  urges  on  his  race ; 
Now  in  the  water  his  faint  beams  appear, 
And  the  cold  Fiflics  end  the  circling  year. 


Beyond  our  globe  the  fanguine  Mars  difplays 

A  ftrong  refleclion  of  primseval  rays ; 

Next  belted  Jupiter  far  diftant  gleams, 

Scarcely  enlight'ned  with  the  folar  beams  ; 

With  four  unfix'd  receptacles  of  light, 

He  tours  majeftic  through  the  fpacious  height : 

But  farther  yet  the  tardy  Saturn  lags, 

And  five  attendant  luminaries  drags  ; 

Inverting  with  a  double  ring  his  pace, 

He  circles  through  immenfity  of  fpace.        [good  I 

Thefe  are  thy  wond'rous  works,  firft  Source  of 
Now  more  admir'd  in  being  underftood. 

Jiriftol,  Dec.  23.  D.  B. 

THE  CONSULT  AD. 

AN  HEROIC  POEM. 

OF  warring  fenators,  and  battles  dire, 

Of  quails  uneaten,  mufe  awake  the  lyre. 

Where  C — pb— rll's  chimneys  overlook  the  fquare, 

And  N — t — n's  future  profpedls  hang  in  air  ; 

Where  counfellors  difpute,  and  cocker's  match, 

And  Caledonian  earls  in  concert  fcratch  ; 

A  group  of  heroes,  occupied  the  round, 

Long  in  the  rolls  of  infamy  renown'd. 

Circling  the  table  all  in  filen.ce  fat ; 

Now  tearing  bloody  lean,  now  champing  fat ; 

Now  picking  ortolans,  and  chickens  flain, 

To  form  the  whimlies  of  an  a-la-reine : 

Now  forming  caftles  of  the  newel'c  tafte, 

And  granting  articles  to  forts  of  pafte  ; 

Now  fwallowing  bitter  draughts  of  Prufllan  beer; 

Now  fucking  tallow  of  falubrious  deer. 

The  god  of  cabinets  and  fenates  faw 

His  fons,  like  afles,  to  one  centre  draw. 

Inflated  difccrd  heard,  and  left  her  cell, 
With  all  the  horrors  of  her  native  hell : 
She,  on  the  foaring  wings  of  genius  fled, 
And  wav'd  the  pen  of  junius  round  her  head. 
Beneath  the  table,  veil'd  from  fight,  flie  fprung, 
And  fat  aftride  on  noify  Twitcher's  tongue  : 
Twitcher,  fuperior  to  the  venal  pack 
Of  Bloomfbury's  notorious  monarch,  Jack  : 
fwitcher,  a  rotten  branch  of  mighty  liock, 
Whofe  intereft  winds  his  confcience  vas  his  clock ; 
Whole  attributes  deteftable,  have  long 
Been  evident,  and  infamous  in  long. 
A  toaft's  demanded  :  Miidoc  fwift  arofe. 
Pactolian  gravy  trickling  clown  his  clothes: 
His  fanguine  fork  a  murder'd  pigeou  preft, 
His  knife  with  deep  incifion  fought  the  breaft. 
Upon  his  lips  the  quivering  accents  hung, 
And  too  much  expedition  chain'd  his  tongue. 
When  thus  he  fputter'd :  "  All  the  glaffes  fill, 
And  toalt  the  great  Pendragon  of  the  hill : 
Mab-Uther  Owein,  a  long  train  of  kings, 
From  whom  the  reyal  blood  of  Madoc  iprings. 
Madoc,  undoubtedly  of  Arthur's  race, 
You  fee  the  mighty  monarch  in  his  face  : 
Madoc,  in  bagnios  and  in  courts  ador'd, 
Demands  this  proper  homage  of  the  board."  [beer, 

"  Monarchal"  faid  Twitcher,  fetting  down  his 
His  mufcles  writhing  a  contemptuous  Ineer  : 
"  Monarchs  '.  Of  mole-hills,  cyder-beds,  a  rock  ; 
Thefe  art  the  grafter^  ot  yoar  royil  itock: 
My  pony  Scrub  can  tires  more  vacant  trace—'* 
The  mangled  pigeon  thunders  on  his  face  j 


MISCELLANIES. 


His  op'ning  mouth  the  melted  butter  fill?, 

And  dropping  from  his  note  and  chin  diltils. 

Furious  he  ftarted,  rage  his  bofom  warms  ; 

Loud  as  his  lort'fhip's  morning  dun  he  Itorms. 

"  Thou  vulgar  imitator  of  the  great, 

Grown  wanton  with  the  excrements  of  ftate  : 

This  to  thy  head  notorious  Twitcher  fends." 

His  fhaUow  body  to  the  table  bends  : 

His  (training  arm  uprears  a  loin  of  veal, 

In  thefe  degenerate  days,  for  three  a  meal : 

In  ancient  times,  as  various  writers  fay, 

An  alderman  or  prieit  eat  three  a  day. 

With  godlike  ftrength,   the  grinning  Twitcher 

plies. 

His  ftretching  mufcles  and  the  mountain  flies. 
Swift,  as  a  cloud  that  fhadows  o'er  the  plain, 
It  flew,  and  fcatter'd  drops  of  oily  rain. 
In  oppofition  to  extended  knives, 
On  royal  Madoc's  fpreading  cheft  it  drives  : 
Senfelefs  he  falls  upon  the  fandy  ground, 
Prelt  with  the  fteamy  load  that  ooz'd  arouml. 
And  now  confufion  fpread  her  ghaftly  plume, 
And  faclion  feparates  the  noify  room. 
Balluntun,  exercis'd  in  every  vice 
That  opens  to  a  courtiers  paradife, 
With  D— f—  n  trammel'd,  fcruples  not  to  draw 
Irijuftice  up  the  rocky  hill  of  law  : 
From  whofe  humanity  the  laurels  fprung, 
Which  will  in  George's- Fields  be  ever  young. 
The  vile  Balluntun,  Itarting  from  his  chair, 
To  fortune  thus  addrefs'd  his  private  prayer  : 
"  Goddefs  of  fate's  rotundity,  aflift 
With  thought-wing'd  victory  my  untry'd  fift  : 
If  I  the  grinning-  Twitcher  overturn, 
Six  Ruffian  frigates  at  thy  (brine  (hall  burn; 
Nine  rioters  (hall  bleed  beneath  thy  feet  j 
And  hanging  cutters  decorate  each  ftreet." 
The  goddefs  fmil'd,  or  rather  fmooth'd  her  frown, 
And  Ihook  the  triple  feathers  of  her  crown  ; 
InftiL'd  a  private  penfion  in  his  foul. 
With  rage  infpir'd,  he  feiz'cl  a  Gallic  roll : 
His  burfting  arm  the  miflive  weapon  threw, 
High  o'er  his  rival's  head  it  whittling  dew, 
Curraras,  for  his  jewifli  foul  renown'd, 
Receiv'd  it  on  his  ear  and  kift  the  ground. 
Currara«,  vers'd  in  every  little  art, 
To  play  the  minifter's  or  felon's  part : 
Grown  hoary  in  the  villanies  of  ftate, 
A  title  made  him  infamouily  great. 
A  (lave  to  venal  Haves  ;   a  tool  to  tools  : 
The  reprefentative  to  knaves  and  fools. 
But  fee  !  commercial  Bristol's  genius  lit, 
Herfliield  a  turtle-mell,  her  lance  a  fpit. 
See,  whilll  her  nodding  aldermen  are  fpread, 
In  all  the  branching  honours  of  the  head  ; 
Curraras,  ever  faithful  to  the  caufe, 
With  beef  and  ven'fon  their  attention  draws : 
They  drink,  they  eat,  then  fign  the  mean  addrefs; 
Say,  could  their  humble  gratitude  do  lefs  ? 
By  difappointment  vex'd,  Balluntun  flies ; 
Red  lightnings  flafliing  in  his  dancing  eyes. 
Firm  as  his  virtue,  mighty  Twitcher  Hands. 
And  elevates  for  furious  fight  his  hands  : 
One  pointed  fift  hisfhadow'd  corps  defends, 
The  other  on  Balluntun's  eyes  defcends  : 
A  darkling,  (hacking  light  his  optics  view, 
Circled  with  livid  tinges  red  and  blue. 


Now  fir'd  with  anguifli,  and  inflam'd  by  pride, 
He  thunders  on  his  adverfary's  fide  : 
With  patt'ring  blows  prolongs  th'  unequal  fight ; 
Twitcher  retreats  before  the  man  of  might. 
But  fortune  (or  fome  higher  power  or  god), 
Oblique  extended  forth  a  fable  rod  : 
As  Twitcher  retrograde  maimain'd'the  fray, 
The  harden'd  ferpent  intercepts  his  way: 
He  fell,  and,  falling  with  a  lordly  air, 
Crufh'd  into  atoms  the  judicial  chair. 
Curraras,  for  his  Jewifti  foul  renown'd, 
Arofe ;  but  deafen'd  with  a  finging  found, 
A  cloud  of  dilcontent  o'erfpread  his  brows; 
Revenge  in  every  bloody  feature  glows. 
Around  his  htad  a  roafted  gander  whirls, 
Dropping  Manilla  fauces  on  his  curls  : 
Swift  to  the  vile  Balluntun's  face  it  flies, 
The  burning  pepper  fparkles  in  his  eyes  : 
His  India  waiftcoat,  reeking  with  the  oil, 
Glows  brighter  red,  the  glory  of  the  fpoil. 

The  fight  is  gcn'ral ;  fowl  repulfes  fowl ; 
The  victors  thunder,  and  the  vanquifh'dhowl. 
Stars,  garters,  all  the  implements  of  ftiow, 
That  deck'd  the  povv'rs  above,  difgrac'd  below. 
Nor  fwords,  nor  mightier  weapons  did  they  draw, 
For  all  were  well  acquainted  with  the  law. 

Let  Drap — r,  to  improve  his  diction,  fight ; 
Our  heroes,  like  Lord  George,  could  Icold  and 

write. 

Gogmagog  early  of  the  jocky  club  ; 
Empty  as  C— br — ke's  oratorial  tub : 
A  nifty  link  of  minifterial  chain ; 
A  living  glory  of  the  prefent  reign. 
Vers'd  in  the  arts  of  ammunition  bread, 
He  wav\l  a  red  wheat  manchet  round  his  head : 
David-ap-Howel,  furious,  wild,  and  young, 
From  the  fame  line  as  royal  Madoc  fprung; 
Occurr'd,  the  object  of  his  burfting  ire, 
And  on  his  nofe  receiv'd  the  weapon  dire : 
A  double  river  of  congealing  blood 
O'erflows  his  garter  with  a  purple  flood. 
Mad  as  a  bull  by  daring  maftifls  tore, 
When  ladies  fcream,  and  greafy  butchers  roar: 
Mad  as  B — rg — e  when  groping  through  the  park, 
He  kifs'd  his  own  dear  lady  in  the  dark. 
The  lineal  reprefentative  of  kings, 
A  carving  weapon  feiz'd,  and  up  he  fprings : 
A  weapon  long  in  cruel  murders  ftain'd, 
For  mangling  captive  carcafes  ordain'd. 
But  Fortune,  Providence,  or  what  you  will, 
To  lay  the  rifing  fcenes  of  horror  ft  ill, 
In  Foro's  perfon  feiz'd  a  fhining  pot, 
Where  bubbled  fcrips,  and  contracts  flaming  hot; 
In  the  fierce  Cambrians  breeches  drains  it  dry, 
The  chapel  totters  with  the  flirieking  cry, 
Loud  as  the  mob's  reiterated  yell, 
When  Sawny  rofe,  as  mighty  Chatham  fell. 

Flaccus,  the  glory  of  a  mafquerade  ; 
Whofe  every  action  is  of  trifles  made  : 
At  Graft-rn's  weil-ftor'd  table  ever  found ; 
Like  G — n  too  for  every  vice  renown'd. 
G — n,  to  whole  immortal  fenfe  we  owe 
The  blood  which  will  from  civil  difcord  flow : 
Who  fwells  each  grievance,  lengthens  every  taxa 
Blind  to  the  rip'ning  vengeance  of  the  axe. 
Flaccus,  the  youthful,  dcgagee  and  gay, 
With  eye  of  pity  faw  the  dreary  fray : 
Amidft  the  greafy  horrors  of  the  fight, 
He  trembled  107  his  fuit  of  virgin  white. 


THE  WORKS  OF  CHATTERTON". 


Pond  of  his  eloquence,  and  cafy  flow 
Of  talk  verbofc,  whofe  meaning  none  can  know : 
He  mounts  the  table,  but,  through  eager  hafte, 
His  foot  upon  a  fmoking  court-pie  plac'd  : 
The  burning  liquid  penetrates  his  fhoe, 
Swift  from  the  roflrum  the  declaimer  flew, 
But  learnedlyheroic  he  difdains, 
To  fpoil  his  pretty  countenance  with  ftrains. 
Remounted  on  the  table,  now  he  flands, 
Waves  his  high  powder'd  head  and  ruffled  hands. 
"  Friends !  let  this  clang  of  hoflile  fury  ceafe, 
111  it  becomes  the  plenipos  of  peace  : 
Shall  olio's,  from  internal  battle  dreft, 
Like  bullets  outward  perforate  the  bread  ; 
Shall  jav'lin  bottles  blood  ethereal  fpill ; 
Shall  lufcious  turtle  without  furfeit  kill." 
More  had  he  faid  :  when,  from  Dogloftock  flung, 
A  cuftard  pudding  trembled  on  his  tongue : 
And,  ah !  misfortunes  feldom  come  alone, 
Great  Twitcher  rifing  feiz'd  a  polifh'd  bone ; 
Upon  his  breaft  the  oily  weapon  clangs ; 
Headlong  he  falls,  propell'd  by  thick'ning  bangs. 
The  prince  of  trimmers,  for  his  magic  fam'd, 
(^narlendorgongos  by  internals  nam'd : 
By  mortals  Ala  vat  in  common  ftyl'd; 
iNurs'd  in  a  furnace,  Nox  and  Neptune's  child  : 
Burfting  with  rage,  a  weighty  bottle  caught, 
"With  crimfon  blood  and  vital  fpirits  fraught, 
To  Doxo's  head  the  gurgling  woe  he  fends ; 
Doxo  made  mighty  in  his  mighty  friends. 
Upon  his  front  the  ftubborn  veffcl  founds, 
Back  from  his  harder  front  the  bottle  bounds  : 
He  fell.     The  royal  Madoc  rifing  up, 
Repos'd  him  weary,  on  his  painful  crup  : 
The  head  of  Doxo,  firfl  projecting  down, 
Thunders  upon  the  kingly  Cambrian's  crown  : 
The  fanguine  tumour  fwells;  again  he  falls ; 
On  his  broad  cheft  the  bulky  Doxo  fprawls. 
Tyro  the  fage,  the  fenfible,  the  Itrong, 
As  yet  unnotic'd  in  the  mufe-taught  fong ; 
Tyro,  for  necromancy  far  renown'd, 
A  greater  adept  than  Agrippa  found ; 
Oft  as  his  phantom  reafons  interven'd, 
J)e  Virts  penfion'd,  the  defaulter  fcreen'd  ; 
Another  C — rt — t  remains  in  Cl— -; 
In  Fl — the — r  fifty  Jefferies's  appear, 
Tyra  flood  neuter,  till  the  champions  tir'd, 
In  languid  attitudes  a  truce  defir'd. 
Long  was  the  bloody  light ;  confufion  dire 
Has  hid  fome  circumftances  from  the  lyre  : 
Suffice  it,  that  each  hero  kifs'd  the  ground, 
Tyro  cxcepted  for  old  laws  renown'd  ; 
"Who  flretching  his  authoritative  hand, 
Loudly  thus  iflu'd  forth  his  dread  command. 
"  Peace,  wrangling  fenators,  and  placemen,  peace, 
In  the  king's  name,  let  hoftile  vengeance  cenfe !" 
Aghaft  the  champions  hear  the  furious  fouled, 
The  fallen  unmolefted  leave  the  ground. 
"  What  fury,  nobles',  occupies  your  breaft  ; 
What  patriots  fpirits  has  your  mind  pofleft. 
Nor  honorary  gifts  nor  penlions  pleafe  ; 
Say,  are  you  Covent-Garden  patentees  ! 
How  ?  Wift  you  not  what  ancient  fages  faid, 
The  council  quarrels,  and  the  poor  have  bread. 
See  this  court-pie  with  twenty  thoufand  dreft  ; 
Be  every  thought  of  enmity  at  reft. 
Divide  it  and  be  friends  again,"  he  faid  : 
The  council  god  return'd,  and  difcord  fled. 
Brijlol,  Jan.  4.  1770.  C. 


ELEGY. 
Jor i. EPS  I  feck  the  folitary  made, 

Where  dufky  contemplation  veils  the  fcene, 
The  dark  retreat  (of  leaflefs  branches  made) 

Where  fick'ning  forrow  wets  the  yellow'd  green. 

The  darkfome  ruins  of  fome  facred  cell, 
Where  erft  the  fons  of  fuperftition  trod, 

Tott'ring  upon  the  moffy  meadow,  tell 
We  better  know,  but  lefs  adore  our  God. 

Now,  as  I  mournful  tread  the  gloomy  cave, 

Through  the  wide  window  (once  with  myfleries 
dight) 

The  diftant  foreft,  and  the  darken'd  wave 
Of  the  fwoln  Avon  ravifhes  my  fight. 

But  fee,  the  thick'ning  veil  of  evening's  drawn, 
The  azure  changes  to  a  fabled  blue ; 

The  rapt'ring  proipeds  fly  the  lels'ning  lawn, 
And  nature  feems  to  mourn  the  dying  view. 

Self-fprighted  fear  creeps  filcnt  through  the  gloom. 
Starts  at  the  ruftling  leaf,  and  rolls  his  eyes; 

Aghaft  with  horror,  when  he  views  the  tomb, 
With  every  torment  of  a  heH  he  flies. 

The  bubbling  brooks  in  plaintive  murmurs  roll> 
The  bird  of  omen,  with  inceffant  fcream, 

To  melancholy  thoughts  awakes  the  foul, 
And  lulls  the  mind  to  contemplation's  dream. 

A  dreary  ftillnefs  broods  o'er  all  the  vale, 
The  clouded  moon  emits  a  feeble  glare  ; 

Joylefs  I  feek  the  darkling  hill  and  dale; 
Where'er  I  wander  forrow  ftill  is  there. 
£riJJol,Nov.  17.  1769. 


THE  PROPHECY. 

When  times  are  at  the  ivorjl  they  ivill  certainly  i 

THIS  truth  of  old  was  forrow's  friend, 
"  Times  at  the  worft  will  furely  mend." 
The  difficulty's  then  to  know 
How  long  oppreflion's  clock  can  go  ; 
When  Britain's  fons  may  ceale  to  lig'h, 
And  hope  that  their  redemption's  nigh. 

When  vice  exalted  takes  the  lead, 
And  vengeance  hang*  but  by  a  thread; 
Gay  peerefles  turn'd  out  o'  doors; 
Whoremafters  peers,  and  fons  of  whores; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons  !  ceafe  to  Cgh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  vile  corruption's  brazen  face 
At  council-board  fhall  take  her  place, 
And  lords-committioners  refort 
To  welcome  her  at  Britain's  court, 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  druweth  nigh. 

See  penfion's  harbour  large  and  clear, 
Defended  by  St.  Stephen's  pier  ! 
The  entrance  fafe,  by  current  led, 
Tiding  round  G — 's  jetty  head  ; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  Cgh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  civil  power  fliall  fnore  at  eafe, 
While  foldicrs  fire— to  keep  the  peace  3 


MISCELLANIES, 


When  murders  fanduary  find, 
And  petticoats  can  juftice  blind; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

Commerce  o'er  bondage  will  prevail, 
Free  as  the  wind  that  fills  her  fail. 
When  fhe  complains  of  vile  reilraint, 
And  power  is  deaf  to  her  complaint, 
Look  up,  ye  Britons!  ceafe  to  figh, 
.For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  raw  projectors  fliall  begin 
Opprefilon's  hedge  to  keep  her  in, 
She  in  difdain  will  take  her  flight, 
And  bid  the  Gotham  fools  good  night ; 
J.ook  up,  ye  Britons  !   ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  tax  is  laid  to  fave  debate, 
By  prudent  minilters  of  date  ; 
And  what  the  people  did  not  give 
Is  levied  by  prerogative  ; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  Popifli  bifhops  dare  to  claim 
Authority  in  George's  name ; 
By  treafon's  hand  fet  up,  in  fpite 
Of  George's  title,  William's  right ; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons  !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  Popifti  prieft  a  penfion  draws 
From  ftarv'd  exchequer,  for  the  caufe 
Commiflion'd,  profelytes  to  make 
In  Britifti  realms,  for  Britain's  fake, 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  fnug  in  power,  fly  recufants 
Make  laws  for  Britifli  Proteftants ; 
And  d — g  William's  revolution, 
As  juftices  claim  execution  ; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  foldiers,  paid  for  our  defence, 

In  wanton  pride  flay  innocence, 

Blood  from  the  ground  for  vengeance  recks, 

Till  Heaven  the  inquifition  makes ; 

Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 

For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

WheH  at  Bute's  feet  poor  freedom  lies, 
Mark'd  by  the  prieft  for  facrifice, 
And  doom'd  a  victim  for  the  fins 
Of  half  the  outs,  and  all  the  ins, 
Look  up,  ye  Britons!  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  ftewards  pafs  a  boot  account, 
And  credit  for  the  grol's  amount ; 
Then,  to  replace  exhaufted  ftore, 
Mortgage  the  land  to  borrow  more  ; 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  fcrutineers,  for  private  ends, 
Againft  the  vote  declare  their  friends ; 
Or  judge,  as  you  ftand  there  alive, 
That  five  is  more  than  forty-five ; 


Look  up,  ye  Britons!  ceafe  to  figh, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh. 

When  George  fliall  condefcend  to  hear 
The  modeft  fuit,  the  humble  prayer  ; 
A  prince  to  purpled  pride  unknown  ! 
No  favourites  difgrace  the  throne ! 
Look  up,  ye  Britons !  figh  no  more, 
For  your  redemption's  at  the  door. 

When  time  fliall  bring  your  wifh  about, 
Or  feven  years  leafe  you  fold  is  out; 
No  future  contract  to  fulfil ; 
Your  tenants  holding  at  your  will ; 
Raife  up  your  heads  !'  your  right  demand  I 
For  your  redemption's  in  your  hand. 

Then  is  your  time  to  ftrike  the  blow, 
And  let  the  (laves  of  Mammon  know 
Britain's  true  fons  a  bribe  can  fcorn, 
And  die  as  free  as  they  were  born. 
Virtue  again  fhall  take  her  feat, 
And  your  redemption  ftand  complete. 

SONG. 

ADDRESSED  TO   MISS  C— AM  OF  BRISTOL. 

As  Spring,  now  approaches  with  all  his  gay  train. 
And  fcatters  his  beauties  around  the  green  plain, 
ComeHhen,  my  dear  charmer,  all  fcruples  remove. 
Accept  of  my  paflion,  allow  me  to  love. 

Without  the  foft  tranfports  which  love  muft  in- 

fpire, 

Without  the  fweet  torment  of  fear  and  defire, 
Our  thoughts  and  ideas,  are  never  refin'd, 
And  nothing  but  winter  can  reign  in  the  mind. 

But  love  is  the  bloflom,  the  fpring  of  the  ibul, 
The  frofts  of  our  judgments  may  check,  not  cou- 

troul, 

In  fpite  of  each  hindrance,  the  fpring  will  return, 
And  nature  with  tranfports  refining  will  burn. 

This  paflion  celeftial,  by  Heav'n  was  defign'd, 
The  only  fix'd  means  of  improving  the  mind, 
When  it  beams  on  the  fenfes,  they  quickly  difplay, 
How  great  and  prolific,  how  pleafing  the  ray. 

Then  come,  my  dear  charmer,  fince  love  is  a  flame, 
Which  polifhes  nature  and  angels  your  frame, 
Permit  the  foft  paflion  to  rife  in  your  breaft, 
I  leave  your  good  nature  to  grant  me  the  reft. 

Shall  the  beautiful  flow'rets  all  bloflom  around, 
Shall  Flora's  gay  mantle,  enamel  the  ground, 
Shall  the  red  bluftiing  bloflom  be  feen  on  the  tree. 
Without  the  leaft  pleafure  or  rapture  for  me  ? 

And  yet,  if  my  charmer  fliould  frown  when  I  fing, 
Ah!  what  are  the  beauties,  the  glories  of  fpring! 
The  flowers  will  be  faded,  all  happinefs  fly, 
And  clouds  veil  the  azure  of  every  bright  fey. 
London,  May  4.  1770. 

•    APOSTATE  WILL. 

IN  days  of  old,  when  Wefley's  pow'r  4 

Gather'd  new  ftrength by  every  hour; 
Apoftate'Will  juft  funk  in  trade, 
Reiblv'd  liis  bargain  fliould  be  made ; 


THE  WORKS   OF  CHATTERTON. 


Then  ftrait  to  Wefley  he  repairs, 

And  puts  on  grave  and  folemn  airs ; 

Then  thus  the  pious  man  addrefs'd, 

Good  Sir,  I  think  your  doctrine  beft ; 

Your  fervant  will  a  Weflcy  be, 

Therefore  the  principles  teach  me. 

The  preacher  then  inftruction  gave, 

How  he  in  this  world  fhould  behave : 

He  hears,  affents,  and  gives  a  nod, 

Says  every  word's  the  word  of  God, 

Then  lifting  his  diffembling  eyes, 

How  blefied  is  the  feet !  he  cries ; 

Nor  Bingham,  Young,  nor  Stillingfleet, 

Shall  make  me  from  this  feet  retreat. 

He  then  his  circumftance  declar'd, 

How  hardly  with  him  matters  far'd, 

Begg'd  him  next  meeting  for  to  make 

A  fmall  collection  for  his  fake. 

The  preacher  faid,  do  not  repine, 

The  whole  collection  (hall  be  thine. 

With  looks  demure  and  cringing  bows, 

About  his  bufinefs  ftrait  he  goes ; 

His  outward  acts  were  grave  and  prim, 

The  methodift  appear'd  in  him ; 

But,  be  his  outward  what  it  will, 

His  heart  was  an  apoftate's  ftill; 

He'd  oft  profefs  an  hallow'd  flame, 

And  every  where  preach'd  Wefley's  name ;  . 

He  was  a  preacher  and  what  not, 

As  long  as  money  could  be  got ; 

He'd  oft  profefs  with  holy  fire, 

The  labourer's  worthy  of  his  hire. 

It  happen'd  once  upon  a  time, 
When  all  his  works  were  in  their  prime, 
A  noble  place  appear'd  in  view, 

Then to  the  Methodifts,  adieu ; 

A  Methodift  no  more  he'll  be, 
The  Proteftants  ferye  beft  for  he. 
Then  to  the  curate  ftrait  he  ran, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  the  rev'rend  man ; 
I  was  a  Methodift,  'tis  true, 
With  penitence  I  turn  to  you  ; 
O  that  it  were  your  bounteous  will 
That  I  the  vacant  place  might  fill ! 
With  juftice  I'd  myfelf  acquit, 
Do  ev'ry  thing  that's  right  and  fit. 
The  curate  ftraightway  gave  confent 
To  take  the  place  he  quickly  went. 
Accordingly  he  took  the  place, 
And  keep*  it  with  difiembled  grace. 
April.  14.  1764. 

HAPPINESS.     1769. 

SIKCE  happinefs  is  not  ordain'd  for  man, 
Let's  make  ourfelves  as  happy  as  we  can  ; 
Poffeft  with  fame  or  fortune,  friend  or  whore, 

But  think  it  happinefs we  want  no  more. 

Hail  .Revelation  !  fphere-envelop'd  dame, 
To  fome  divinity,  to  moft  a  name, 
Reafon's  dark-lanthorn,  fuperftition'sfun, 
Whofe  caufe  myfterious  and  effect  are  one 
From  thee,  ideal  blifs  we  only  trace, 
Fair  as  ambition's  dream,  or  bounty's  face, 
But,  in  reality,  as  fhadowy  found 
A»  feeming  truth  in  twifted  myfteries  bound. 
What  little  reft  from  over-anxious  care 
The  lords  of  nature  are  defign'd  to  fhare, 


To  wanton  whim  and  prejudice  we  owe. 

Opinion  is  the  only  god  we  know. 

Where's  the  foundation  of  religion  plac'd  ? 

On  every  individual's  fickle  tailc. 

The  narrow  way  the  prieft-rid  mortals  tread, 

By  fuperftitious  prejudice  mifled: 

Thispaffuge  leads  to  heaven— yet,  ftrange  to  tell! 

Another's  confcicnce  finds  it  leads  to  hell. 

Confcicnce,  the  foul-camelion's  varying  hue, 

Reflects  all  notions,  to  no  notion  true. 

The  bloody  fon  of  Jeffe,  when  he  faw 

That  myftic  priefthood  kept  the  Jews  in  awe, 

He  made  himfelf  an  ephod  to  his  mind, 

And  fought  the  Lord,  and  always  found  him  kind. 

In  murder,  **,  cruelty  and  luft, 

The  lord  was  with  him,  and  his  actions  juft. 
Pricftcraft,  thou  univerfaF  blind  at  all, 

Thou  idol  at  whofe  feet  whole  nations  fall, 
Father  of  mifery,  origin  of  fin, 
Whofe  firft  exiftence  did  with  fear  begin, 
Still  fparing  deal  thy  feeming  bleflings  out, 

Veil  thy  Elyfium  with  a  cloud  of  doubt > 

Since  preffint  bleflings  in  pofieffion  cloy, 
Bid  hope  in  future  worlds  expect  the  joy— — — 
Or,  if  thy  foris  the  airy  phantoms  flight, 
And  dawning  reafon  would  direct  them  right, 
Some  glittering  trifle  to  their  optics  hold ; 
Perhaps  they'll  think  the  glaring  fpangle  gold. 
And  madded  in  the  fearch  of  coins  and  toys, 
Eager  purfue  the  momentary  joys. 

*  Catcott  is  very  fond  of  talk  and  fame, 
His  wifh  a  perpetuity  of  name, 

Which  to  procure,  a  pewter-altar's  made, 

To  bear  his  name,  and  fignify  his  trade, 

In  pomp  burlefqu'd  the  rifing  fpire  to  heady 

To  tell  futurity  a  pewterer's  dead. 

Incomparable  Catcott,  ftill  purfue 

The  feeming  happinefs  thou  haft  in  view ! 

Unfinifti'd  chimneys,  gaping  fpires  complete^ 

Eternal  fame  on  oval  dimes  beat : 

f  Ride  four-inch'd  bridges,  clouded  turrets  climVj 

And  bravely  die to  live  in  after-time. 

Horrid  idea !  if  on  rolls  of  fame 

The  twentieth  century  only  find  thy  name. 

Unnotic'd  this  in  profe  or  *  *  *  *, 

He  left  his  dinner  te  afcend  the  tower. 

Then  what  avails  thy  anxious  fpitting  pain  ? 

Thy  laugh-provoking  labours  are  in  vain. 

On  matrimonial  pewter  fet  thy  hand ; 

Hammer  with  every  power  thou  canft  command  j 

Stamp  thy  whole  foul,  original  as  'tis, 

To  propogate  thy  whimfies,  name  and  phyz 

*  This  fetvterer   is  famous  for  producing   to  the 
"world  thofe  poem*  'which    Chaittrton  produced  to  him. 
Ht  is  famous  for-  efcendtng    by  a   rope,  ivith  no  little 
danger  cf  his  life,  in  order  to  place  tie  topjlone  of  St, 
Nichelas-churcb  fpire ,  and  under  it  a  piece  ef  peiuter 
recording  this  fitigular  event.     Nor  is  he  left  famous  for 
paffing  tbejlream,  by  means  of  fome  narroiu  boards  (on 
horfeback,  I  belie-vej  before  tie  ne-w  bridge  -was  com 
pleted;  flat  it  might  be  faid  (-with  brw  much  propriety 
fame  miijl decide)  he  jirjt  pajfcd  the  bridge.          CROFT. 

•)•  The  reader  -will  recolletl  that  peer  Tom  complains  the 
fevl  fiend  has  "made  him  proud  of  heart,  to  ride  on 
"  a  high-trotting  harfe  ,c-Tjer  four-inched  bridges  *'—~ 
Shalfpcare's  poor  'Tom,  as  ivill  as  tar's,  difcovcrcd 
"  reafon  in  madnejs." 


MISCELLANIES. 


39? 


Then,  when  the  tottering  fpires  or  chimnies  fall, 
A  Catcott  fliall  remain,  adniir'd  by  all. 

Endo,  who  has  fome  trifling  couplets  writ, 
Is  only  happy  when  he's  thought  a  wit 
Think's  I've  more  judgment  than  the  whole  re 
views, 

Becaufe  I  always  compliment  his  mufe. 
If  any  mildly  would  reprove  his  faults, 
1'hey're  critic^  cnvy-ficken'd  at  his  thoughts. 
To  me  he  flies,  his  beft-bcloved  friend, 
Reads  me  afleep,  then  wakes  me  to  commend. 

Say,  fages — if  not  fleep-charm'd  by  the  rhyme, 
Is  flattery,  much-lov'd  flattery,  any  crime  ? 
Shall  dragon  Satire  exercife  his  fling, 
And  not  infinuating  flattery  fing  ? 
Is  it  more  natural  to  tornent  than  pleafe  ! 
How  ill  that  thought  with  reclitude  agrees  ! 

Come  to  my  pen,  companion  of  the  lay, 
And  fpeak  of  worth  where  merit  *  * 
Let  lazy  Barton  undiftinguifti'd  fnore, 
Nor  lafh  his  generofity  to  Hoare ; 
Praife  him  for  fermons  of  his  curate  bought, 
His  eafy  flow  of  words,  his  depth  of  thought ; 
His  adlive  fpirit,  ever  in  difplay, 
His  great  devotion  when  he  drawls  to  pray; 
His  fainted  foul  diftinguifhably  feen, 
\Vith  all  the  virtues  of  a  modern  dean. 

Varo,  a  genius  of  peculiar  tafte, 
His  mifery  in  his  happinefs  has  plac'd ; 
When  in  foft  calm  the  waves  of  fortune  roll, 
A  tempeft  of  reflection  ftorms  the  foul. 
But  what  would  make  another  man  diftreft, 
Gives  him  tranquillity  and  thoughtlefs  reft. 
No  difappointment  can  his  thoughts  invade, 
Superior  to  all  troubles  not  felf-made 
This  character  let  gray  Oxonians  fcan, 
*  And  tell  me  of  what  fpecies  he's  a  man. 
Or  be  it  by  young  Yetman  criticized, 
Who  damns  good  Englifti  if  not  Latinized  f ; 
In  Ariftotle's  fcale  the  mufe  he  weighs, 
And  damps  her  little  fire  with  copied  lays ; 
Vers'd  in  the  myftic  learning  of  the  fchpols. 
He  rings  bob-majors  by  Leibnitzian  rules. 
Pulvis,  whofe  knowledge  centres  in  degrees, 
Is  never  happy  but  when  taking  fees  : 
Bleft  with  a  bufhy  wig  and  folemn  pace, 
Catcott  admires  him  for  a  foflilc  face. 

When  firft  his  farce  of  countenance  began, 
Ere  the  foft  down  had  mark'd  him  almoft  man, 
A  folemn  dulnefs  occupied  his  eyes, 
And  the  fond  mother  thought  him  wondrous  wife. 
— But  little  had  fhe  read  in  nature's  book, 
For  fools  aflume  a  philofophic  look. 

O  education,  ever  in  the  wrong, 
To  thee  the  curfes  of  mankind  belong ; 
Thou  firft  great  author  of  our  future  ftate, 
Chief  fource  of  our  rejigion,  paffions,  fate. 
On  every  atom  of  the  doctor's  frame 
Nature  has  ftampt  the  pedant  with  his  name : 

*  •"  To  hold  to  every  man  a  faithful  glafs, 

"  And  fhow  him  of  what  fpecies  he's  an  afs." 

Prologue  to  Vanlurgb's  "  Provoked  Wife." 

CROFT. 

f  In  tie  fp'Jlle  on  JElla  to  Canyng:,  is  ibis  line 

"  The  Englifh,  him  to  pleafe  mult  firft  be  La 
tinized,"  CR.OFT. 


But  thou  haft  made  him  (ever  waft  thou  blind) 
A  licens'd  butcher  of  the  human  kind. 
— Mould'ring  in  duft  the  fair  Lavinia  lies, 
Death  and  our  dodlor  clos'd  her  fparkling  eyes. 
O  all  ye  powers,  the  guardians  of  the  world  ! 
Where  is  the  ufelefs  belt  of  vengeance  hurl'd  ? 
Say  (hall  this  leaden  fvvord  of  plague  prevail, 
And  kill  the  mighty  where  the  mighty  fail ! 
Let  the  red  bolus  tremble  o'er  his  head, 
And  with  his  guardian  jupel  ftrike  him  dead ! 
But  to  return — in  this  wide  fea  of  thought. 
How  lhall  \ve  fteer  our  notions  as  we  ought  ? 
Content  is  happinefs,  as  fages  fay— 
But  what's  content  ?  the  trifle  of  a  day. 
Then,  friend,  let  inclination  be  thy  guide, 
Nor  be  thy  fuperftition  led  afide— 

THE  RESIGNATION. 

O  GOD,  whofe  thunder  fhakcs  the  Iky ; 
Whofe  eye  this  atom  globe  furveys ; 
To  thee,  my  only  rock,  I  fly, 
Thy  mercy  in  thy  juftice  praife. 

The  myftic  mazes  of  thy  will, 
The  fhadows  of  celeftial  light, 
Are  paft  the  power  of  human  (kill,— 
But  what  th'  Eternal  ads  is  right, 

O  teach  me  in  the  trying  hour, 
When  anguifh  fwells  the  dewy  tear, 
To  ftill  my  forrows,  own  thy  pow'r, 
Thy  goodnefs  love,  thy  juftice  fear. 

If  in  this  bofom  aught  but  thee 
Encroaching  fought  a  boundlefs  fway, 
Omnifcience  could  the  danger  fee,  - 
And  mercy  look  the  caufe  away. 

Then  why,  my  foul,  doft  thou  complain  ? 
Why  drooping  feek  the  dark  recefs? 
Shake  off" the  melancholy  chain, 
For  God  created  all  to  blefs, 

But  ah  !  my  breaft  is  human  ftill ; 
The  rifmg  figh,  the  falling  tear, 
My  languid  vitals'  feeble  rill, 
The  ficknefs  of  my  foul  declare. 

But  yet,  with  fortitude  refign'd,  j 

I'll  thank  th'  infliifter  of  the  blow ; 
Forbid  the  figh,  compofe  my  mind, 
Nor  let  the  gufh  of  mis'ry  flow. 

The  gloomy  mantle  of  the  night, 
Which  on  my  finking  fpirit  ftcals, 
Will  vanifh  at  the  morning  light, 
Which  God,  my  Eaft,  my  Sun,  reveals. 

THE  ART  OF  PUFFING, 
BV  A  BOOKSELLER'S  JOURNEYMAN. 

VERS'D  by  experience  in  the  fubtle  art, 
The  myfteries  of  a  title  I  impart ; 
Teach  the  young  author  how  to  pleafe  the  tows-, 
And  make  the  heavy  drug  of  rhime  go  down. 
Since  Curll,  immortal,  never  dying  name, 
A  double  pica  in  the  book  of  fame, 
By  various  arts  did  various  dunces  prop, 
And  tickisd  every  fancy  to  hislhop  : 
6 


THE   WORKS  OF   CHATTERTON. 


Who  can  like  Poningcr  cnfurc  a  book  ? 
Who  judges  with  the  folid  tafte  of  Cookc  ? 
Villains  exalted  in  the  midway  iky, 
Shall  live  again,  to  drain  your  purfes  dry  : 
Nor  yet  unrivall'd  they  ;  fee  Baldwin  comes 
Rich  in  inventions,  patents,  cuts,  and  hums: 
The  honourable  Bofvvcll  writes,  'tis  true  ; 
What  elfe  can  Paoli's  fupporter  do  ? 
The  trading  wits  endeavour  to  attain, 
Like  bookfellers    the  world's  firft  idol— gain. 
For  this  they  puff  the  heavy  Goldfmith's  line, 
And  hail  his  fentiments,  though  trite,  divine; 
For  this  the  patriotic  bard  complains, 
And  Bingley  \>inds  poor  liberty  in  chains : 
For  this  was  every  readers  faith  deceiv'd, 
And  Edmund  fwore  what  nobody  believ'd : 
For  this  the  wits  in  clofe  difguifes  fight, 
For  this  the  varying  politicians  write  ; 
For  this  each  month  new  magazines  are  fold, 
With  dulnefs  fill'd  and  tranfcripts  of  the  old ; 
The  Town  and  Country  ftruck  a  lucky  hit, 
Was  novel,  fentimental,  full  of  wit ; 
Apeing  her  walk,  the  fame  fuccefs  to  find, 
The  Court  and  City  follow  far  behind. 
Sons  of  Apollo  learn,  merit's  no  more 
Than  a  good  frontifpiece to  grace  her  door; 
The  author  who  invents  a  title  well, 
Will  always  find  his  cover'd  dulnefs  fell. 
Flexney  and  every  bookfeller  will  buy— 
.Bound  in  neat  calf,  the  work  will  never  die. 

July  az.  1770.  VAMP. 

.*  ExtraSt  from  tfa  unpitbUJhtd  MS.  of  tie  Satirical 
Poem,  intituled 

KEW  GARDENS. 

W  HAT  arc  the  wages  of  the  tuneful  nine  ? 

What  are  their  pleafures,when  compar'd  to  mirte  ? 

Happy  I  eat,  and  tell  my  numerous  pence, 

Free  from  the  fervitude  of  rhime  and  fenfe. 

Though  fmg-fong  Whithead  ufhers  in  the  year 

With  joy  to  Britain's  king  and  fovereign  dear, 

And  in  compliance  to  an  ancient  mode, 

Meafures  his  fyllables  into  an  ode, 

Yet  fuch  the  fcurvy  merit  of  his  mufe, 

He  bows  to  deans,  and  licks  his  lordmip's  fhoes. 

Then  leave  the  wicked  barren  way  of  rhime, 

Fly  far  from  poverty,  be  wife  in  time, 

Regard  the  office  more,  ParnafTus  lefs; 

Put  your  religion  in  a  decent  drefs. 

Then  may  your  intereft  in  the  town  advance 

Above  the  reach  of  mufes  or  romance. 


ODEf. 

CHATTERTON    IN    THE    SHADES. 

'Tis  done; — the  MIGHTY  STRIPLING  gave  the 
word, 

Inftant  round  Eriftol's  crowded  mart, 

Beams  of  celeftial  glory  dart, 
And  to  each  kindling  breaft  poetic  flames  impart. 

*  A  fac-fimile  of  this    &trafl  is  given  by    Dr 
Gregory. 

•J-  Reprinted  from  a  humorous  publication,  intitule!. 
"  Ro-wle^  and  Cbatlcrton  in  tbe  Shades,  or  NugZ  An- 
tiquse  et  Nova:.  A  neiv  Ely  jinn  Interlude  in  Prof 
."  8w>.  1782.— HrbiU  tut  Anti^ujriss  ar. 


Give  me  the  harp,  he  cried,  of  thoufand  firings.' 
Echo,  from  her  mountain  cell, 
O'er  defert  heath  or  fhadowy  dell 
The  repercuflive  notes  in  varying  paufes  brings. 
Now  fwell  the  (trains  in  accent  bold ; 

Now  tun'd  to  artlefs  woe, 
Let  the  foft  numbers  mufically  flow ; 

Or  to  the  praife  of  heroes  old 
^et  freedom's  war-fong  found  in  thund'rous  terror 

roll'dl 

Far  hence  all  idle  rhymes, 
The  tafte  of  none  but  giddy-paced  times, 
n  manlier  modes  I  (trike  the  deep-ton'd  lyre 

And  other  joys  infpire. 
Vhence  is  this  ardour  ?  what  new  motion  bodes 
My  agonifing  foul  ? 

It  is  decreed ; 

tlluflon  come,  work  thy  all-potent  deed,  j 
And  deal  around  the  land  thy  fubtile  dole. 
Be  the  folemn  fubjedl  dreft 
In  antique  numbers,  antique  vert, 
n  time's  proud  fmiles  right  gorgeoufly  array'dj 
With  many  a  (trange  conceit  and  lore  profound, 
There  be  the  bookman's  fapient  art  difplay'd, 
Arhile  folly  gapes  and  wonder  (lares  around. 
See  fancy  wufts  her  radiant  forms  along, 
Jorne  on  the  plume  fublime  of  everlafting  fong. 
Brave  RICHARD  *  calls;  the  crefcent  falls, 
He  rears  the  crofs ;  the  nations  bow, 
Vengeance,  arife!  Great  Baw din  f  dies  ! 
Awful  be  the  notes  and  flow. 
JUGA'S  f  woes  demand  the  (train, 
Shall  female  forrow  ftream  in  vain  ? 
Ah  deck  with  myrtle  wreathe  that  haplefs  herfcj 
Nor  let  fainted  CHARITY§, 
Godlike  maid,  with  upcaft  eye, 
Unheeded  pafs  without  one  votive  verfe. 
Grief's  a  plant  of  every  clime, 
Lull'd  into  birth  from  earliell  time ; 
Soon  it  (hoots  a  branching  tree 
Water'd  with  tears  of  mifery ; 
Change,  my  lyre,  the  numbers  change. 
And  give  afpiring  thoughts  an  ampler  range. 
In  buflcin'd  pomp  appear, 
Dread  J^LLAJJ,  regal  form, 
Fate  (talking  in  the  rear, 
Prepares  the  iron  ftorm. 
Mark  where  the  Norman  canvafs  fwells  afar, 
And  wafts  the  deflin'd  troops  to  Albion's  (trand.; 
Hear  HAROLD  f!  hear!  the  diftant  found  is  war, 
War  that  (hall  fweep  thee  from  thy  native  land. 
The  meafure's  clos'd,  the  work  dilpos'd, 
Hahg  the  recording  tablet  high  ! 
The  colours  mix,  the  foul  they  fix, 
Confeft  before  the  entranced  eye. 
Confirm,  Pierian  powers  !  the  bold  defign, 
And  ftamp  with  ROWLEY'S  name  each  confecraN 
cd  line. 

dancing  in  circles ^  under  the  direfi'on  of  L eland,  the 
Majler  of  tie  Ceremonies ;  the  author fuppofcs  that  their 
filemnities  are  interrupted  by  the  Jbade  of  a  You  NO 
PoET,  -.vho  rujbes  in  andfmgs  this  irregular  odi\ 

*   Eilog.  ^.  f   Dethc  ffSyr  Charles  Baivdin. 

\  £lin'jnrc  and  Jiiga.  §   Bulade  of  Cbariti:-. 

||    JElla,  a   'Tragical  Enter',:: Jc}    and  Goddtoj*  ct 
Tragedic. 
r-   Tas  Battle  of  Hojtings. 


POEMS. 


ON  THE  POEMS  IMPUTED  TO  ROWLEY. 

(Reprinted  in  «'  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  1781. 
From  the  Bury  P<fl-j 

ACCZPT,  O  CHATTERTON  !  too  late,  the  wreath, 
Which  will  pot  flourifh  upon  Rowley's  tomb  \ 
Born  ere  our  rugged  language  glow'd  heneath 
The  mellov.-ing  touch  of  time,   and  caught  die 

bloom 

Of  polifh'd  diction  ;  born  ere  numbers  fweet 
Meafur'd  the  varied  round  in  harmony  complete. 

And  ere  to  philofophic  rule  allied, 
Our  poefy  the  vague  ideas  taught 
To  know  their  rank;  ere  yet  inventive  pride 
Burft  the  dark  prifon  of  the  fetter'd  thought. 
Accept,  ill-fated  youth  !  to  grace  thy  name, 
The  juft,  the  dear-bought  guerdon  of  difaflrous 
fame. 

Rich,  flowery,  nervous,  plaintive,  gay,  fublime, 
In  ientiment  and  manners  deeply  flcill'd ! — 
Had  but  our  earlier  ages  learn'd  to  climb 
Thofe  heights,  and  that  wide  maze  of  knowledge 

fill'd, 

Which  to  thy  infant  genius  fate  difplay'd, 
Thy  artful  mimic  theft  had  not  itfelf  betray'd  ! 

But  now,  though  antique  gloom  incruft  the  pile, 
Wrought  by  thy  hands,  dill  beams  through  the 

difguife, 

Th*  internal  fymmetry,  and  mocks  the  toil, 
Which  offer'd  moftly  luins  to  our  eyes*. 
Thy  genius,  form'd  to  polifii  and  create, 
Soar'd  far  above  the  times  it  ftrove  to  imitate. 

Take  then,  O  CHATTERTON  !  the  bootlefs  praife, 
Which  cannot  vibrate  on  thy  death-ilruck  ear ! 
And  O  !  if  ever  in  remoteft  days, 
A  youth  like  thee  fhall  taftc  the  vital  air, 
O !   may  he  learn  from  thy  m'sfortunes  known, 
In  confcious  merit  proud  the  works  he  forms  to 
own ! 

Dec.  9.  1782. 


SONNET  TO  EXPRESSION, 

BT  MIS*  HELEN   MAKIA  WILLIAMS. 

EXPRESSION,  child  of  foul  !  I  fondly  trace 
Thy  llrong  enchantments,  when  the  poet's  lyre, 
The  painter's  pencil  catch  thy  facred  fire, 
And  beauty  wakes  for  thee  her  touching  grace. 
But  from  this  frighted  glance  thy  form  avert, 
When  horrors  check  thy  tear,  thy  ftruggling  figh, 
When  frenzy  rolls  in  thy  impaffion'd  eye, 
Or  guilt  fits  heavy  on  thy  lab'ring  heart. 
Nor  ever  let  my  fhuddering  fancy  bear 
The  wafting  groan,  or  view  the  pallid  look 
Of  himf  the  mufts  lov'd—  when  hope  forfoek 
His  fpirit,  vainly  to  the  mules  dear  ! 
For  charm'd  with  heavenly  fong,  this  bleeding 
brcaft,  [no  reft. 

Mourns  the  bleft  power  of  verfe  could  give  defpsir 

*   Tl'u  idea  it  elegantly  furfutd  in  Knoxt  £/ay  en 


Cbatttrfcw, 


Vet.  XI, 


MONODY  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  CHAT 
TERTON. 

WRITTEN   BV  MRS.  COWLEY. 

O  CHATTERTON!  for  thee  the  penfivefong  I  raife, 
Thou  object  of  my  wonder,  pity,  envy,  pruife  ! 
Bright  ftar  of  genius! — torn  from  life  and  fame, 
My  tears,  my  verfe,  fhall  confecrate  thy  name. 
Ye  mufes !  who,  as  round  his  natal  bed, 
Triumphant  fung,  and  all  your  influence  fhed ; 
APOLLO  !  thou  who  rapt  his  infant  breaft, 
And  in  his  dxdal  numbers  fhone  confeft, 
Ah  !  why  in  vain  fuch  mighty  gifts  beftow  ? 
— Why  give  frefh  tortures  to  the  child  of  woe  ? 
Why  thus  with  barbarous  care  illume  his  mind, 
Adding  new  fenfe  to  all  the  ills  behind  ? 

Thou  haggard  poverty  !  whofe  cheerlefs  eye 
Transforms  young  rapture  to  the  pond'rous  figh; 
In  whofe  drear  cave  110  mufe  e'er  ftr«ck  the  lyre, 
Nor  bard  e'er  madden'd  with  poetic  fire, 
Why  all  thy  fpells  for  CHATTERTON  combine  ? 
His  thoughts  creative  why  muft  thou  thou  confine  J 
Subdu'd  by  thee,  his  pen  no  more  obeys, 
No  longer  gives  the  fong  of  ancient  days ; 
Nor  paints  in  flowing  tints  from  diftant  ikies, 
Nor  bids  wild  fcenery  rufh  upon  our  eyes— 
Check'd  by  her  flight,  his  rapid  genius  cowers, 
Droops  her  fad  plumes,  and  yields  to  thee  her 
powers. 

Behold  him,  mufes !  fee  your  fav'rite  fon 
The  prey  of  want,  e'er  manhood  5s  begun ! 
The  bofom  you  have  fill'd,  with  anguifh  torn— 
The  mind  you  cherifh'd,  drooping  and  forlorn ! 

And  now  defpair  her  fable  form  extends, 
Creeps  to  his  couch,  and  o'er  his  pillow  bends, 
Ah  !  fee  !  a  deadly  bowl  the  fiend  conceal'd, 
Which  to  his  eye  with  caution  is  reveal'd— * 
Seize  it  APOLLO  !— feize  the  liquid  fo*re, 
Dafh  it  to  earth,  or  difllpate  in  air  ! 
Stay,  haplefs  youth  !  reftrain— abhor  the  draught, 
With  pangs,  with  racks,  with  deep  repentance 

fraught ! 

Oh,  hold  !  the  cup  with  woe  ETERNAL  flows, 
More— more  than  death  the  poifonous  juice  be* 

ftows ! 

In  vain  !— he  drinks,  and  now  the  fearching  firest 
Rufh  through  his  veins,  and  writhing  he  expires1. 
No  forrowihg  friend,  no  fifter,  parent,  nigh, 
To  footh  his  pangs,  or  catch  his  parting  figh; 
Alone,  unknown,  the  mufe's  darling  dies, 
And  with  the  vulgar  dead  unnoted  lies ! 
Bright  ftar  of  genius ! — torn  from  life  and  fame, 
My  tears,  my  vcife,  fhall  confecrate  thy  name ! 

FXEGY, 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MR. THOMAS  CHATTERTOH 
LATE  OF  BRISTOL. 

How  fhall  my  pen  make  known  the  fad  event, 
How  tell  the  lofs,  O  earth,  by  thee  fuftain'd; 

In  what  expreflions  give  the  tidings  vent, 

Of  which  the  thought,  my  foul,  fo  oft  has  pain'd? 

Why  wilt  thou,  torturing  reflection,  mad 
Each  fond  idea  of  the  bleffings  paft ; 

Bleffings  which  only  to  the  anguim  add  j 
O,  did  their  pleating  efficacy  laft  1 
Cc 


404 


THE  WORKS   OF  CHATTERTOtf. 


Think  of  his  tender  op'ning  unfledg'd  years, 
Brought  to  a  final  crifis  ere  mature : 

As  fate  had  grudg'd  the  wonders  nature  rears, 
Bright  genius  in  oblivion  to  immure. 

"Weep,  nature,  weep,  the  mighty  lofs  bewail, 
The  wonder  of  our  drooping  ifle  is  dead; 

t),  could  but  tears  or  plaintive  fighs  avail, 
By  night  and  day  would  I  bedew  my  bed. 

O,  give  his  mem'ry  reverential  due, 
His  worth  a  tributary  tear  demands : 

Still  hold  his  many  virtues  in  your  view, 

Then[muft  a  free-will  offering  'fcape  your  hands. 

Had  but  his  tender  budding  genius  thriv'd, 
Still  blooming  on,  fpite  of  the  frofty  blaft  ; 

Till  ripen'd  into  manhood  ftill  furviv'd, 

The  fruits  full  ripe— how  rich  the  fweet  repaft ! 

Ere  vital  utterance  could  fcarce  tranfpire, 
His  infant  lips  evinc'd  a  manly  foul ! 

Predicting  that  heroic  mental  fire, 

Which  reiga'd  fupremewithin  the  mighty  whole. 

OFriendihip  cemented  by  the  flighteft  ties, 

Full  hardly  brooks  the  intervening  caufe 
That  feparates  the  friend  we  lightly  prize, 
Burfting  the  bonds  of  friendship's  facred  laws. 

Then  how  can  I  but  feel  the  dire  effect, 

Where  infancy  began  the  focial  tie, 
fWhich  ftill  in'creas'd,  void  of  the  leaft  defect, 

As  each  revolving  year  did  multiply. 

Though  greit  the  lofs  to  me— Heav'n  knows  how 
great! 

Were  it  but  individually  known, 
I  would  not  vainly  thus  repine  at  fate, 

But  providential  juftice  ever  own. 

O,  that's  not  all— my  country  feels  the  ftroke, 
The  public  good  was  ever  in  his  view, 

His  pen  his  lofty  fentiments  befpoke, 

Nor  fear'd  he  virtuous  freedom  to  purfiie. 

"Yes,  Liberty  !  thy  fair,  thy  upright  caufe, 

He  dar'd  defend,  fpite  of  defpotic  force, 
To  crufli  his  much-lov'd country's  wholefome  laws, 

Its  noble  conflitution's  only  fource. 
Ye  mufes,  leave  your  florid  airy  fmiles, 

And  thou,  mercurial  Euphrofyne, 
Torget  thy  wanton  cranks  and  am'rous  wiles, 

To  fympathize  with  fad  Melpomene. 

Your  pride  is  fallen— your  chief,  your  great  flip- 
port, 

Lies  mould'ring  to  his  own  primaeval  duft : 
To  you,  while  living,  ever  was  his  court, 

Dead,  in  return,  let  not  his  mem'ry  ruft. 

What  «afe  within  his  fweet'ned  numbers  flow'd, 

What  fymmetry  each  weli-penn'd  line  evinc'd; 
Such  juft  connection  on  each  verfe  beftow'd 

Ev'n  envy,  of  his  worth,  muft  ftand  coiivinc'd. 
His  lofty  numbers  how  fublimely  great ! 

Lifting  the  ravifh'd  fenfe  to  heights  iupreme, 
Again  with  fancy  painted  woes  elate, 

He  mows  the  paffions  of  the  tragic  theme. 
Sharp  vifag'd  fatire  own'd  him  as  her  lord, 

Excltifive  of  her  hand-maid  in  her  train, 
Ill-nature,  curft  attendant  of  the  board 

Of  thofe  who  fti^matife  mankind  for  gain, 


Not  fo  with  him— he  paints  each  reiguing  vice 
In  flrongeft  colours  of  their  genuine  hue  ! 

Sweet'ning  the  bitter  draught  with  fav'ry  fpice, 
The  moral  picture  relifhing  the  view. 

O,  could  my  pen  but  catch  his  livid  fire, 
Hear  thou  my  invocation,  mighty  dead ! 

My  infant  mufe  with  life  mature  infpire, 

Thy  (hade  may  dictate,  though  the  lubflance'4 
fled. 

Antiquity,  bewail  his  cruel  fate, 

He  paid  thy  hoary  head  the  rev'rence  due ; 
Thy  valu'd  acts  reviving  out  of  date, 

Recalling  ages  paft  to  prefent  view. 

To  truths  long  dead,  he  gave  a  fecond  birth, 
Refcuing  from  oblivion  occult  ftores: 

Treafures  within  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
Unheeded  by  the  vulgar  mind— explores. 

Moft  ftrange  !  ideas  of  fo  vaft  extent 
Could  e'er  within  his  tender  mind  refide, 

No  art  or  fcience  but  fome  influence  lent, 
His  intellectual  parts  to  make  more  wide. 

Why,  fancy,  wilt  thou  paint  him  to  my  eyes, 
Why  form  the  fond  idea  in  my  mind ; 

O,  couldft  thou  but  fome  plaftic  means  devife, 
The  fubftance  with  the  fhadow  ftill  to  find. 

Brijlol,  Off.  1770.  T.  C. 

AN  ARCHAELOGICAL  EPISTLE 

To  the  Reverend  and  Worflipful  JEREMIAH  MILLE», 
D.  D.  Dean  of  Exeter,  Prefidcnt  of  the  Society  of 
Antiquaries,  and  Edlter  of  a  Superb  Edition  of  the 
Poems  ^"THOMAS  ROWLEY,  PRIEST  :  To  which 
is  annexed  a  GloJJary,  extraflfd from  that  of  the 
learned  Dean. 


EPISTELLE  TO  DOCTOURE  MYLLES. 

I. 

As  whanne  a  gronfer  I,  with  ardurous  a  glow, 
Han  3   from  the  mees  4  liche  5  fweltrie  6  fun 

arift  7, 

The  lordynge  8  toade  awhaped  9  creepethe  flowe, 
To  hike  to  his  groted  n  weam  iz  in  mokie  13 

kifle  14; 

Owlettes  yblente  15  alyche  dooe  flizze  16  awaie, 
In  ivye-wympled  17  ihade  to  glomb  18  in  depe 
difmaie. 

II. 
So,  dygne  i  Deane  Mylles,  whasne  asthie  wytte  z 

fo  rare 
Han  Rowley's  amenufed  3  fame  chevyfed  4, 


STANZA  I.  i.  A  meteor.  %  burning.  3  hath. 
4  meadows.  5  like.  6  fultry.  7  arofe.  8  ftand- 
irig  on  his  hind  legs;  rather,  heavy,  fluggifti. 
9  aftoniflied,  or  terrified.  10  hide.  1 1  fwelled. 
12  womb,  or  body.  1 3  black.  14  coffin.  15  blind 
ed,  or  dazzled.  16  fly  away.  17  ivy-mantled. 
1 8  frown. 

STANZA  II.  i  Worthy,  or  glorious,  a  wifdom, 
knowledge.  3  diminifhed,  leflened;  or,  meta 
phorically  here,  injured.  4  reftored,  or  redeem^ 
2 


OEMS, 


Mis  foemenne  J   alle  forlcttc  6    theyre  groffifli 
gars  7,  [devyfed, 

Whyche  in  theyre  houton  fprytes  8  theie  ban 
"Whan  thee  theie  ken  9,  wythe  poyntel  10  in  thie 
honde,  [bronde  13. 

Enroned  II  lyche  anlace  iz  fell,  or  lyche  a  burly- 
Ill. 
Thomas  of  Oxenford,  whofe  teeming  brayne 

Three  bawfin  i  rolles  of  olde  rhyms  hiftorie 
Ymaken  hanne  wythe  mickle  tene  2  and  payne, 

Nete  kennethe  3  he  of  archeologie, 
Whoe  pyghtes  hys  knowlachynge  4    to   preve 

,  echeone  5 

Of  Rowley's  fetive  6  lynes  were  pennde  bie  Chat- 
tertone. 

IV. 

Hie  thee,  poor  Thomas,  hie  thee  to  thie  celle, 
Ne  mo  wythe  auntyante  vearle  aflouude  I  thy 

wytte ; 

Of  feemlikeenly  2  rhym  thou  nete  mai  fpelle ; 
For  herehaughtree  3,  or  profe  thou  botte  arte 

fytte : 

Vearfe  for  thie  rede  4  is  too  great  myfterie  ; 
Ne  e'erfhalle  Loverde  5  North  *  a  Canyngeproove 
to  thee. 

V. 
Deane  Percy,  albeytte  thou  bee  a  Deane, 

O  whatte  arte  thou,  whanne  pheered  I  with 

dynge  Deane  Mylle  ? 
Nete  botte  a  groffyle  2  acolythe  3  I  weene ; 

Inne  auntyante  barganette  4  lyes  all  thie  flcylle. 
Deane  Percy,  Sabalus  5  will  hanne  thy  foughle, 
Giff  mo  thou  doefl  aniate  6  grete  Rowley's  yel- 
lowe  rolle. 

VI. 

Tyrwhytte,  though  ,clergyonned  in    Geoffroie's 

leare  i,  [ftedde  2. 

Yette  fcalle  yat  leare  ftonde  thee  in  drybblet 

Geoffroie  wythe  Rowley  how  maicft  thoue  com- 

phere  3  ?  [redde, 

Rowley  hanne  mottes  4,  yat  ne  manne  ever 


«d.  5  enemies.  6  give  up,  or  relinquifli.  7  rude, 
or  uncivil  caufe.  8  haughty  fouls.  9  fee.  10  pen. 
II  brandifhed.  12  fword.  13  furious  falchion. 

STANZA  III.  i  Big,  or  bulky,  2  labour,  or  forrow. 
3  nothing  knoweth  he.  4  tortures  his  learning. 
5  every  one.  6  elegant. 

STANZA  IV.  i  Confound,  or  aftonim.  2  beautiful, 
or  delicate.  3  heraldry.  4  knowledge,  or  wif- 
dom.  5  lord. 

STANZA  V.  I  Matched,  or  compared,  2  gro 
velling,  or  mean.  3  candidate  for  deacon's 
orders.  4  ballads.  5  The  devil.  6  derogate 
from,  or  leffen. 

STANZA  VI.  I  Wall  inftru&ed  in  Chaucer's  lan 
guage,  a  little  Head.  3  compare.  4  words. 

*  As  this  great  Miniflcr,  either  through  necejjity  or 
choice,  is  apt  to  make  ufe  of  a  bad  reafon  injtead  of  a 
goodf  here  is  one  ready  fflade  to  his  hands  for  Dot  doing 
what  "tvould  have  done  him  honour. 

If  it  be  conftdered,  that  the  above  verfe  ivas  "written 
at  hajl  a  fortnight  before  tie  fin/Jen  (and  to  him  the  u'n- 
exfeffed)  rout  of  the  minijlry,  the  author  may  jitflly  ar- 

2  ate  to  bimfelf  net  only  the  foetit,  but  ttf  fropbctic 
ratter. 


Ne  couthe  bewryenne  5  inne  anie  fyngle  tyme,    . 
Yet  reynriethe  6  echeone  mole  7,  in  newe  and 
fwotie  ryme  8. 

VII. 

And  yerfore,  faitour  i,  in  afhrewed  2  hourc 
From  Rowley's  poyntel  thou  the  lode  ^  dydft. 
take.  [fhuir  4 

Botte  lo !  our  Deane  fcalle  wythe  forweltrynge 
Thy  wytte  as  pynant  5  as  thie  bowke  6  ymake ; 
And  plonce  7  thee  inne  archeologie  mudde, 
As  thou  ydreinted  8  were  iri  Severne's  mokie  8 
fludde. 

VIII, 
So  have  1  feen,  in  Edinborrowe-towne, 

A  ladie  faire  in  wympled  paramente  I     . 
Abbrodden  goe  2,  whanne  on  her  powrethe  downs 

A  mollock  hepe  3,  from  opper  oryal  4  fente  ; 
Who,    whanne   fhec    lookethe    on   her    unfwotc 
geare  5,  [fteyniSt  9  aumere  10. 

Han  liefer  6    ben  beftiet   7   thanne  in  thilke  8 

IX. 
"  SpryteofmieGraie,"  the  minftrelle  i  Maifonne 

cries, 

"  Some  cherifaunie  2  'tys  to  mie  fadde  barte, 
"  That  thou,  whofe  fetive  3  poefie  I  pryze, 
"  Wythe  Pyndarre  kynge  of  mynftrells  lethlen  4 

"  arte. 

"  Elfe  nowe  thie  wytte  to  dernie  roirj  5  ban  come, 
<l  Far  havynge  prutoilene  grete  Rowley's  hie  re* 
"  nome  6. 

.   .      ..  ,  \X.     .     .    .. 

"  Yette,  giff  I    thou  fojourned  in  thi»  earthly 

"  vale,  [ftynge; 

"  Johnfon  atte  thee  had  bfoched  %  no  neder  3 

"  Hee,  cravent  4,  the  yftorven  5  dothe  affayle, 

"  Butte.  atte  the  quyck  6  ne  dares  hys  venome 

"  flynge. 

"  Quyck  or  yftorven,  giff  I  kenne  aryghte, 
"  Ne  JohnfoH,  ne  Deane  Mylle,  fcalle  e'er  agrofe  7 
"  thie  fpryte."      < 
XI- 

Butte,  minftrelle  Maifonne,  blyn  i  thie  chyrck- 

eynge  dynne  a  ;  wrongej 

On  thee  fcalle  be  bewrecked  3  grete  Rowley's 


5  exprefs,  or  fpeak  in  any  fingle  era  of  our  Ian-, 
guage.  6  runneth,  or  floweth.  7  1°^-  8  in 
modern  and  fweet  *erfification. 

STANZA  VJI.  I  Vagabond,  z  accurfed,  or  un 
fortunate.  3  praife,  or  honour.  4  bhfting,  or 
batting  fury.  5  pining,  meagre.  6  body. 
7  plunge.  8  drenched.  9  black,  or  muddy. 

STANZA  VIII.  i  Dreft  in  a  princely  robe.  4  gd 
abroad  in  the  flreet.  J  a  moid,  or  wet  heap* 
or  load.  4  upper  chamber-wiiidow,  5  un- 
fweet,  or  ftinking  apparel.  6  had  rather* 
7  been  fhut  up,  or  confined  ftill  at  home.  For 
ibis  -word,  fee  Kerfey.  8  fuch.  9  ftained.  id 
robe,  or  mantle. 

STANZA  IX.  i  Poet,  a  comforti  3  elegant, 
4  dead.  5  fad  ruin.  6  been  the  firft  to  kill 
or  deftroy  the  high  fame  of  Rowley. 

StANZA  X.  i  If.  2  pointed.  3  adder.  4  cow 
ard.  $  the  dead.  6  the  living.  7  grieve, 
or  trouble. 

STANZA  XI.  I  Ceafe.  %  difagreeable  noife,  of 
prate,  3  Rescnged. 


THE  AVORKS   OF  CHATTERTON. 


Thou,  wythe  thie  eompheere  4  Graie,  dydde  furf 

begynne  [fonge 

To  fpeke   inne  deignous  denwere  4  offe   hy 

And,  wythe  cnftroted  5  Warpool  *,  deemed  hy 

laics  [vafe 

Frefhe  asnewe  rhyms  ydropte  inne  ladie  Myller's 

XII. 
Oh  Warpool,  ne  dydde  thatte  borne  i  vafe  con- 

teyne 

Thilke  fwotie  %  excremente  of  pocte's  lear  3 ; 
Incaled  4  was  thie  hearte  as  carnes  5  ybene, 

Soe  to  atlerte  5  hys  fweft-kerved  fcryvennere  6 
Thyfynnedoe  Loverde  7  Advocate's  furpafle; 
Starvation  bee  thou  nempte  8,  thou  broder  9  oi 
Dundafle. 

XIII. 

Enough  of  thilke  adrames  I,  and  ftrains  like  thefe, 
Speckled  wythe  uncouth  words  like  leopard's 

flcin; 
Yet  bright  as  Avon  gliding  o'er  her  mees, 

And  foft  as  ermine  robe  that  wraps  a  king ; 
Here,  furfte  of  wifeggers  a,  I  quit  thy  glofs, 
Nor  more  with  Gothic  terms  my  modern  lays 
cmbofs. 

XIV. 

Tor  vearfe  lyche  thyffe  been  as  puddynge  fayre, 
At  Hocktyde  I  feafte  by  gouler  a  cooke  be- 
fprente  [there, 

TVythe  fcanty  plumbes,  yat  fliemmer  3  heere  and 

Like  eftells  4  in  the  eve-merk  5  fermamente, 
So  that  a  fchoolboie  male  with  plaie,  not  paine, 
Pycke  echeone  6  plumbe  awaie,  and  leave  the 
puddynge  playne. 

.?*.  V  • 

Yet  ftill  each  line  fliall  flow  as  fweet  and  clear, 
As  Rowley's  felf  had  writ  them  in  his  roll ; 

So  they,  perchance,  may  footh  thy  fapient  ear, 
If  aught  but  obfolete  can  touch  thy  foul. 

Polifh'd  fo  pure  by  my  poetic  hand, 

That  kings  themfelves  may  read,  and  courtiers  un- 
derftand. 

XVI. 

O  mighty  Milles,  xvho  o'er  the  realms  of  fenfe 
Haft  fpread  that  murky  antiquarian  cloud, 


4  aflbciate,  or  companion.  5  Difdainful,  or 
contemptuous  doubt.  6  deferving  of  punifiiment. 

STANZA  XII.  I  Burnifhed,  or  poliflied.  a  fuch 
fwcet,  or  delicate.  3  learning.  4  cold,  or 
frozen.  5  Hones,  or  rocks.  6  negle(Sb.j  7 
Jhort-lived  transcriber,  3  .lord.  9  called,  10 
brother. 

STANZA  X1I1.  i  Such  churls,  or  rather  dreamers. 
a  philofopher,  but  here  put  for  a  perfon  (killed 
in  ancient  learning,  furjle  of  ivifeggirs  being  fy- 
JlonymoUS  to  preftdent  of  the  mntiquarian  fociety. 
They  are  not  to  be  regarded,  who  derive  the 
contemptuous  term  -wifeacre  from  this  radix. 

STANZA  XIV.  I  Shrovetide,  or  any  tide  Mr. 
JBryaht  pleafes,  who  has  written  moft  copioufly 
on  the  term,  and  almoft  fettled  its  precifc  mean 
ing,  a  ftingy,  or  covetous.  3  glimmer.  4 
ftars,  from  the  French.  5  duflcy.  6  every. 

*  So  Mrs.  Ne-wton,  Cbattcrton*  ffer,  fptlls  Mr., 
Tl'alpslci  name;   I  therefore  bavin  I  opted  kcr  mtftt  of 
-hi  at  mtre  arf 


Which  blots  out  truth,  cclipfts  evidence, 

And  tafte  and  judgment  veils  in  fable  fhrcu^ :, 
Which  makes  a  beardlefs  boy  a  monkifh  prieft, 
Makes  Homer  firing  his  lyre,  and  Milton  ape 
hisjeft  »; 

XVII. 
Expand  that  cloud  ftill  broader,  wond'rous  Dean  ! 

In  pity  to  thy  poor  Britannia's  fate  ; 
Spread  it  her  paft  and  prefent  ftate  between, 

Hide  from  her  memory  that  flic  e'er  was  great. 
That  e'er  her  trident  aw'd  the  fubjecl  fea, 
Or  e'er  bid  Gallia  bow  the  proud  reluctant  knee. 

XVIII. 

Tell  her,  for  thou  haft  more  than  Mulgrave's  wit, 
That  France  has  long  her  naval  ftrength  furpaft, 
That  Sandwich  and  Germaine  alone  are  fit 

To  fhield  her  from  the  defolating  blaft  ; 
And  prove  the  fa<5t,  as  Rowley's  being,  clear, 
That  loans  on  loans  and  loans  her  empty  purfe 
will  bear. 

XIX. 

Bid  all  her  lords,  obfequious  to  command, 
As  lords  that  beft  befit  a  land  like  this, 
Take  valiant  Vifcount  Sackville  by  the  hand, 

Bid  bifliops  greet  him  with  a  holy  kifs, 
For  forming  plans  to  quell  the  rebel  tribe, 
Whole  execution  foil'd  all  bravery,  and  all  bribe. 

XX. 
Teach  her,  two  Britifli  armies  both  fubdued, 

That  ftill  the  free  American  will  yield; 
Like  Macbeth's  witch  -f,  bid  her  "  fpill  much 

"  more  blood," 
And  ftain  with  brethren's  gore  the  flooded  field ; 

*  Tte  revtrend  Editor  frovet,  in  tils  manner,  that 
numberlefs  pajfoget,  in  The  Battle  of  Haftings,  are 
not  only  borrtlvcd  from  the  original  Greek  of  Homer, 
but  alfo  greatly  improved.  In  the  fame  "way  be  btst 
•with  peculiar  fagacity,  found  outt  <l  that  the  grave 
Milton,  In  bit  PENSESOSO,  amufed  himfelf  by  re- 
dedting  on  the  buikin'd  fate  of  Chaucer  in  thefe  lines  .* 

"  Or  call  up  him  that  left  half-told 
"  The  ftory  of  Cambufcan  bold." 

as  Rmvley  bad  refefted  on  him  before  for  not  Ji- 
nijbing  hisjl«ries.  See  note  on  the  Epiflle  to  Majlre 
Cany  age.  0  ye  venerable  fociety  of  antiquarians,  •what 
ever  ye  in  your  tvifJom  Jball  think  Jit  to  do  ivitb  tht 
re/I  of  yottr  prejident't  notes,  infcriie  this,  I  befeech 
in  letters  of  gold  over  your  neva  chimney-fiete  at 
Somerfet-ffoufe. 

f  Tiit  -was  left  unnoted1  in  the  Jirji  edition,  in  order 
hat  it  might  prove  a  crujl  to  the  critics  :  and,  if  the 
\uthor  is  "will-informed,  fame  of  them  have  mumbled  it. 
They  fay,  and  they  fay  truly,  that  there  is  n*  fuch  ex- 
rejjion  in  the  play  of  Sbttfpeare.  But,  in  the  repre- 
rentation  ef  that  play,  -where  D'Avenant't  alterations 
are  admitted,  for  the  fake  of  fame  viryjime  old  mujic, 
ich  Lode  originally  fet  to  them,  the  folio-wing  chorus 
ver  the  caldron  is  -well  known  by  the  frequenters  ef  the 
heatre. 

He  muft,  he  {hall,  he  will  fpill  much  more  blooJ, 
And  become  worfe,  to  make  his  title  good." 

Now  the  author  has  catttioujly  not  called  the  -witcL^ 
vhojings  this,  Shakfpeare's  ivitcb,  but  "  Macbeth's 
vitch  ;"  and  therefore  the  quotation  is  pertinent,  tbcugb 
ami  not  Skakfftare}fut  tht  words  into  btr^ 


POEMS. 


405 


Nor  [heath  the  {word,  till  o'er  one  little  ifle 
In  fnug  domeftic  pomp  her  king  fliall  reign  and 
fmile. 

XXI. 
So  from  a  dcan'ry  "  riling  in  thy  trade, 

And  puflf'd  with  lawn  ny  byfhoppe-millanere  I, 
Ev'n  glommed  2  York,  of  thy  amcde  3  afraid, 
At  Lollard's  Tower  4  with  fpyryng  5  eye  mall 

peer, 

Where  thou,  like  JElla's  fprytc,  fhalt  glare  on  high, 
The  triple  crown  to  feize,  if  old  Cornwallis  die  *. 


STANZA  XXI.  I  Byflioppomillanerc.— The  word 
is  formed  from  horfe-millanere,  and  means  the 
robe-maker,  or  fempftrefs,  of  the  lords  fpiri- 
tual.  2  Sullen,  cloudy,  or  dejected.  3  Re 
ward,  or  preferment.  4  The  higheft  tower  in 
the  palace  of  Lambeth.  5  Afpiring,  or  am 
bitious. 

POSTCR1PT. 

I  have  lately  conceived,  that,  as  Dryden,  Pope, 
&c.  employed  their  great  talents  in  tranflating 

*  All  readers  of  true  chijjiail  tajlf,  -will,  I  trujl,  ap- 
fltiuJ  this  concluding Jlanza,  ttltift  returns  to  the  flyle  in 
•which  the  tpijllc  began,  in  judicious  fubferiiiency  to  the 
rule  of  Horace  : 

•   •  Servetur  ad  inum 

Oiialis  ab  incepto  procefisri?,  &  fibi  couftet. 

3 


Virgil,  Homer,  &c.  it  would  be  a  very  commend 
able  employment  for  the  poets  of  the  prefent  age, 
to  treat  fome  of  the  better  fort  of  their  predecef- 
fors,  fuch  as  Shakfpeare  and  Milton,  in  a  fimilar 
manner,  by  putting  them  into  archaelogical  lan 
guage.  This,  however,  I  would  not  call  tranjlat'wn , 
but  tranfmutafiontfoi  a  very  obvious  reafon-  It  is,  I 
believe,  a  fettled  point  among  the  critics,  with  Dr. 
Johnfon  at  their  head,  that  the  greateft  fault  of 
Milton  (exclufive  of  his  political  tenets),  is,  that 
he  writ  in  blank  verfc.  Sec  then  and  admire  how 
eafily  this  might  be  remedied. 

PARADISE  LOST,  BOOK  I. 

OfFe  mannes  fyrfte  bykrous  volunde  wolle  I  finge, 
And  offe  the  frui&e  offe  yatte  caltyfnyd  tre, 

Whofe  lethal  tafte  into  thys  worlde  dydde  brynge 
Both  morthe  and  tene  to  all  pofteritie. 

How  very  near  alfo  (in  point  of  dramatic  excel 
lence)  would  Shakfpeare  come  to  the  author  of 
-/£//<*,  if  fome  of  his  beft  pieces  were  thus  tranf- 
muted !  As  fer  inllance  the  foliloquy  of  Hamlet, 
"  To  tt,  or  not  to  be.*' 

To  blynne  or  not  to  blynhe,  the  denwere  is ; 

Gif  it  be  bctte  wythin  the  fpryte  to  bcare 
The  bawfyn  floes  and  tackels  of  dyftrefle, 

Orr  by  forloynyng  amenufe  them  clerc. 

Milt-end,  Mar;t>  15^,  1782. 
Cc:i  j 


THE 

POETICAL  WORKS 

O  F 

JAMES     GRAEME. 

Containing 

ELEG1EI,  H  EPISTLI8, 

HERO  AND  i-EANDER,  SONGS, 

A  NIGHT-PIECE,  HYMNS, 

THE  STUDENT,  TALES, 

ALEXIS,  TRANSLATIONS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


Blcft  in  each  talent,  with  each  gift  endow'd, 
That  lifts  the  poet  from  the  vulgar  crowd ; 
Superior  genius,  nature's  nobleft  prize, 
The  fplendid  polifh,  learning's  toil  fupplies; 
The  rigorous  fancy,  and  the  ardent  mind, 
The  judgment  folid,  and  the  tafte  refin'd ; 
Bleil  in  the  feelings,  warm  with  young  defire, 
Each  pallion  glowing,  and  each  wilh  on  fire ; 
Bled  in  the  raptures,  full  of  heavenly  flame, 
Infpiring  viilons  of  eternal  fame ! 
With  virtues,  graces,  fciences,  adoru'd, 
I  faw  my  GRJEME  hi  early  youth  in  urn 'd ! 
His  keen  eye  faded,  and  extinct  the  flame 
That  rapt  his  wiflies  in  the  trance  of  fame  ! 
Sprinkling  the  green  fod  with  memorial  yews, 
I  wept— and  with  me  wept  each  gentle  mufe ! 

Dr.  Andtrjons  Monody  to  tie  Memory  of  a  Belovid  Wlftt 


EDINBURGH; 

BY  MUNDELL  AND  S0JV,  ROYAL 'BANK  CLOSE. 
1725- 


THE  LIFE  OF  GRAEME. 


THE  poet,'  whofe  life  the  prefent  writer  is  about  to  delineate,  has  a  double  claim  to  a  place  among 
the  poets  of  our  nation,  to  whofe  (lory  the  public  attention  has  been  called  by  the  collection  of  their 
works>  from  genius  and  from  friendfhip.  He  was  brought  up  with  him  from  his  infancy,  and  thinks  it 
a  duty  incumbent  on  his  fricndfliip  for  him,  to  be  the  faithful  executor  of  his  fame,  and  to  collect, 
among  others,  the  incidents  of  his  life,  in  order  that  his  merits  may  be  known,  and  his  example 
may  be  followed.  But  in  making  this  attempt  to  ftate  his  pretenflons,  and  to  eftimate  his  worthy 
he  feels  and  avows  fo  much  affection  for  the  man,  that  he  diflrufts  his  judgment  of  the  poet. 

His  fhort  life,  pad  in  obfcurity,  and  in  the  filent  acquisition  of  knowledge,  has  fcarce  any  objects 
for  defcription  to  embellifli,  or  events,  to  which  narrative  could  give  importance.  If  the  detail  of 
trivial  particulars  appear  to  be  little  deferviBg  of  traHuniffion  to  pofterity,  it  will  be  allowed  as  an 
excufe  for  the  culpable  minutenefs  of  the  writer,  that  the  fubject  of  his  narrative  was  the  friend  of 
his  youth,  and  the  companion  of  his  ftudies ;  and,  if  his  opinion,  in  any  inftance,  appear  to  be  lefs 
the  refult  of  juft  judgment  than  of  partial  friendfhip,  his  feelings  may  claim  fome  indulgence,  though 
his  fentiments  do  not  correfpond  with  thole  of  the  reader,  who,  with  lefs  friendship  for  the  poet, 
than  he  avows,  may  poflefs,  in  a  jufter  proportion,  that  peculiar  combination  of  fenfibility  and 
judgment,  upon  which  the  delicacy  of  critical  difcernment  depends. 

JAMES  GRJEME  was  born  at  Carnwath,  in  Lanarkshire,  Dec,  15. 1749.  He  was  defcended  of  a 
reputable  family,  of  the  middling  clafs  of  farmers,  that  had  redded  on  the  eftate  of  Carnwath,  ever 
fince  it  came  into  the  pofleffion  of  the  family  of  Lockhart,  without  producing  a  fingle  example  of 
literary  ambition.  His  father,  William  Grseme,  (or  Graham),  occupied  a  fmallfarm  in  the  village 
of  Carnwath,  and  afterwards  rented  the  farm  of  Spittal,  adjacent  to  that  village,  on  the  river  Med- 
wan,  about  half  amile  above  its  junction  with  the  Clyde.  The  occupation  of  hisanceftorswashisprin. 
cipal  inheritance,  his  wealth  confifting  chiefly  in  hisinduftry,  for  which,  and  his  integrity,  ke  was  dt- 
ftinguiflied  among  his  neighbours.  His  mother,  Anne  Harvey,  was  of  a  family  of  the  fame  rank, 
belonging  to  Laflwade,  in  the  county  of  Mid-Lothian,  and  remarkable  for  nothing,  but  her  exem 
plary  prudence  and  frugality.  They  had  fix  children,  of  whom  the  poet  was  the  youngeft.  Of  thefc 
fix,  two  died  before  him  ;  William,  June  9.  1767,  and  Euphemia,  Feb.  24.  1769,  who  was  married 
to  Thomas  Dimmock,  a  farmer  at  Bunk-Mains,  near  Carnwath,  and  left  a  fon,  James,  now  a  ftu^ 
dent  of  divinity  in  the  Univerfity  of  Edinburgh,  a  young  man  of  an  amiable,  character,  and  promifing 
abilities ;  and  three  furvive,  George,  the  eldeft,  a  farmer  at  Uolphington,  a  man  of  ftrong  parts, 
and  diftinguifhed  for  his  agricultural  knowledge  as  a  farmer,  and  his  integrity  as  a.  neighbour ;  Ro 
bert,  a  farmer  in  Carnwath,  a  worthy  and  refpectable  man  ;  and  Anne,  his  favourite  filter,  married 
to  Thomas  Smith,  a  farmer  in  Quothquhan,  in  the  parifli  of  Liberton. 

In  his  eaily  childhood,  he  was  of  a  delicate  conftitution,  and  in  confequence  of  an  affection  com. 
monly  produced  by  extraordinary  attention,  the  favourite  of  his  parents ;  Providence  wifely  ordaining 
that  where  extraordinary  attention  is  moft  wanted,  parental  affection  fliould  be  mod  confpicuous. 

The  firft  years  of  his  life  did  not  pafs  without  distinction.  He  very  early  difcovered  the  moft  pro 
mifing  marks  of  lively  parts  and  an  active  mind,  and  was  much  taken  notice  of  for  his  inclination  to 
letters  and  his  thirft  for  pre-eminence  in  the  fports  and  paftimes  adapted  to  his  age. 

While  he  was  a  child,  he  was  initiated  in  the  alphabet  by  an  old  woman  who  kept  a  day-fchool  in 
the  village,  whofe  difcipline  bore  a  flrorig  refemblance  to  that  of  the  "  old  dame,"  of  whom  Shen- 
ftone  learned  to  read,  and  whom  his  poem  of  "  the  Schoolmiftrefs"  has  delivered  to  pofterity. 
:  As  he  grew  older,  he  went  to  the  parifh  fchool  of  Carnwath,  which  was  then  taught  by  Mr. 
Hugh  Smith,  a  man  of  fuch  amplitude  of  learning,  and  fuch  copioufnefs  of  intelligence,  that  it 
Vould  be  difficult  to  name  any  branch  of  literature  or  fcience  with  which  he  vras  unacquairted. 

Under  the  tuition  of  this^man,  the  prefent  writer  was  at  the  fame  time  initiated  in  grammar; 
in  his  company  he  has  ficcc  enjoyed  many  cheerful  and  inftruftive  hours.    He  hoped  to 


4to  THE    LIFE   OF   GRjEME. 

kave  gratified  him  with  this  account  of  his  pupil,  but  he  is  difappointed  by  the  ftroke  of  death.  RTr. 
Smith  died  April  17.  1754,  in  the  73d  year  of  his  age,  leaving  an  example  of  active  curiofity,  per- 
fevering  ambition,  engaging  politenefs,  and  unaffected  piety,  worthy  of  imitation. 

In  thofe  branches  of  education,  which  are  ufually  taught  in  remote  villages,  Graeme  foon  diftin- 
guifhed  himfelf  by  the  quicknefs  of  his  progrefs.  His  intellect,  memory,  and  diligence,  carried  him 
on  before  the  ether  fcholars  of  the  fame  ftanding.  Mr.  Smith  feeing  his  eagernefs,  and  knowing  his 
talents,  allowed  him  to  prefs  forward,  without  waiting  the  tardy  progrefs  of  flower  boys. 

The  uncommon  proficiency  which  he  made  in  the  learning  taught  at  the  fchool  of  the  vil 
lage,  foon  obtained  him  the  reputation  of  a  boy  of  excellent  parts ;  which,  as  it  commonly  hap 
pens,  prompted  him  to  afpire  above  the  vulgar  occupations  of  the  neighbourhood!  and  to  defpife 
every  purfuit  unconnected  with  the  attainment  of  a  polite  and  liberal  education. 

Mifplaced  and  dangerous  as  this  kind  of  ambition  might  feem  in  a  boy  of  his  ftation,  it  occafion- 
ed  no  anxiety  in  his  parents.  Being  accuftomed,  from  his  infancy,  to  regard  the  capacity  of  their 
fon  with  partiality,  and  flattered  with  the  credit  he  might  do  the  family  by  his  learning,  they  re- 
folved  to  difpenfe  with  his  fervices  in  the  bufmefs  of  the  farm,  for  which  he  promifed  to  be  unequal, 
and  to  educate  him  for  the  church. 

The  want  of  patronage,  and  other  obftacles  equally  obvious  and  intimidating,  did  not  (hake  their 
refolution.  Examples  of  fuccefs  in  fimilar  circumftances,  were  within  the  reach  of  their  obferva- 
tion.  TheTe  examples,  while  they  provoked  their  competition,  ferved  alfo  to  juftify  their  choice, 
the  (ingularity  of  which,  indeed,  was  much  lefs  remarkable  than  the  temerity  ;  the  clerical  profef- 
fion  being  an  object  of  common  and  moderate  ambition  in  North  Britain,  where  the  parity  of  rank 
and  flender  emoluments  of  the  clergy  offer  no  temptation  to  the  families  of  the  rich,  and  the  at 
tainment  of  a  liberal  education,  is  within  the  reach  of  perfons  of  inferior  rank. 

He  was  initiated  in  the  rudiments  of  the  Latin  language  by  Mr.  Smith,  whom  he  always  praif- 
ed  for  his  attention  and  his  Ikill. 

Meantime,  the  knowledge  and  experience  of  Mr.  Smith  in  agriculture  and  rural  economy,  par 
ticularly  the  culture  and  management  of  flax,  procured  him  an  appointment  under  the  Honourable 
Board  of  Truftees  for  Fisheries,  Manufactures,  and  Improvements,  more  fuitable  to  the  activity  of 
his  mind,  than  the  employment  of  a  fchoolmafter;  and  Gra;me  found  his  opportunities  of  improve 
ment  difproportionate  to  his  docility  ;  the  qualifications  of  «he  afMant  matter  being  mean,  and  in 
adequate  to  the  duties  of  his  ftation. 

Difgnfted  at  the  unlkilfulnefs  of  his  teacher,  and  impatient  of  the  reftraint  impofed  upon  his  IH 
terary  progrefs,  he  left  the  fchool  of  Carnwath,  and  repaired  to  a  more  reputable  feminary,  in  the 
village  of  Liberton,  taught  by  Mr.  John  Brown,  a  teacher  of  claffical  knowledge  fuperior  to  what 
is  commonly  found  in  remote  country  villages ;  and  a  worthy  and  intelligent  man. 

To  this  fchool,  which  was  diftant  two  miles  from  his  father's  dwelling,  he  walked  every  morn 
ing,  carrying  his  daily  provifions  along  with  him. 

He  continued  in  this  courfe  of  ftudy  two  years,  in  which  time  he  acquired  a  tafte  for  general 
reading.;  was  particularly  folicitous  to  borrow  books  of  hiftory,  poetry,  and  divinity,  and  was  lay 
ing  in  ftores  of  information,  and  improving  both  his  imagination  and  his  judgment. 

In  1763,  when  he  was  fourteen  years  old,  he  was  fent  to  the  grammar  fchool  of  the  neighbour 
ing  town  of  Lanark,  then  taught  by  Mr.  Robert  Thomfon,  brother-in-law  to  the  "  poet  of  the 
Seafons,"  a  man  whofe  eminent  worth,  uncommon  knowledge  in  claffical  learning,  indefatigable 
diligence,  and  ftrictnefs  of  difcipline,  without  feverity,  placed  him  in  the  firft  rank  among  the  in. 
ftructors  of  youth  in  North  Britain.  This  worthy  and  refpectable  man  died  in  1789. 

Graeme  had  very  early  obtained  diftinction  in  the  paftimes  adapted  to  his  age,  as  well  as  in  his 
claffical  ftudies.  In  a  crowded  fchool,  collected  from  different  parts  of  Great  Britain,  and  the  Weft 
Indies,  he  now  felt  more  ftrongly  his  own  deficiencies,  yet  he  did  not  flirink  from  a  competition  with 
the  elder  boys,  in  which  there  was  a  danger  of  experiencing  the  mortification  of  being  inferior  ;  but 
on  every  occafion,  difplayed  a  vigour  of  underftanding,  a  quicknefs  of  penetration,  a  boldnefs  of  imas 
gination,  and  a  fpirlt  of  enterprife,  far  fuperior  to  the  talents  of  his  companions. 

His  proficiency  in  claflical  learning  was  fo  remarkable,  that  it  excited  the  emulation  of  the.  eld.ex 
boys,  of  forward  and  active,  but  of  fuperficial  talents. 


THE  LIFE   OF   GRAEME.  4it 

His  Latin  verfions,  in  particular,  were  the  admiration  and  boaft  of  Mr.  Thomfon,  who  had  the 
penetration  to  difcover,  in  the  fallies  of  youthful  fancy,  marks  of  uncommon  genius ;  and  whofe 
difcerntnent  conftrued  thofe  eccentricities  of  imagination,  which  received  his  correction,  into  a  pre- 
fage  of  literary  eminence. 

Before  he  left  Liberton,  he  gave  evident  figns  of  a  propenfity  to  the  ftudy  of  poetry  ;  but  his  tafte 
for  elegant  compofition  firft  appeared  in  his  exercifes  at  Lanark ;  and  his  firft  attempts  in  metrical 
compofition  are  of  no  earlier  date. 

Though  thedifciplineof  the  Lanark  fchool,  like  that  of  the  other  fchools  in  North  Britain,  did  not  re 
quire  him  to  perform  exercifes  in  Latin  verfe,  yet  he  attempted  this  mode  of  compofition,  as  foon  as  he 
was  fufficiently  mafter  of  the  ancient  profody,  and  continued  from  time  to  time  to  write  Latin  verfes, 
which  he  found  of  the  greateft  advantage,  in  giving  him  a  ready  command  of  Latin  phrafeology. 

He  foon  acquired  a  facility  in  the  compofition  of  Latin  poetry ;  and  the  following  fragment  of  a 
Sapbic  Ode,  defcribing  the  occupations  and  paftimes  of  the  fcholars  in  the  hours  allotted  for  play, 
Deferiptio  Schote  Lanarcenfis,  muft  be  allowed  to  be  a  very  correct  and  manly  performance  for  a 
boy  of  fifteen. 

Pueri  agfeftes  irridendum  pecus 
Pannis  obfiti,  circa  focum  premunt 
Nugas  tiarrantes,  caeteros  fed  fugant 
Rixae  menaces. 

Seorfim  fcamnis  inimici  fono 
Sedunt,  aetate  catiores  quidam 
Lufumque  vitant,  caeteros  fpernentes. 
Fronte  obducto. 

Ad  generofum  fcribit  hie  amicum  ; 
Legit  ac  alter  celebrem  poetam, 
Rite  fcalpello  refecat  fed  fordes 

Tertius  unguis. 

Quidam  quercetis  trabibus  dependant, 
Nominaque  fcalpunt  Daertalea  manu 
Quidam,  Dum  alii  (puerilis  turma  ?) 
Turbine  ludunt. 

In  the  public  examination  of  the  fchool,  before  the  autumn  vacation  1766,  he  pronouaced  a  vale- 
di£lory  oration,  in  Latin,  according  to  the  cuftom  of  the  fchool,  which  was  much  applauded  by  his 
examinators,  the  minifters  of  the  prefbytery  of  Lanark,  and  the  magiftrates  of  the  town. 

In  1767,  having  pafled  through  the  forms  of  the  grammar  fchool  of  Lanark,  he  was  fent  to  the 
Univerfity  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  applied  himfelf,  during  the  three  fucceeding  years,  to  the  fe^ 
veral  branches  of  literature  and  philofophy,  with  hisufual  affiduity  and  fuccefs. 

He  was  accompanied  to  Edinburgh,  as  he  had  been  to  Liberton  and  Lanark,  by  the  prefent  writ, 
er,  who  encouraged  his  propenfity  to  literature  and  to  poetry,  by  an  emulous  and  amicable  partici.. 
pation  of  ftudy,  and  the  mod  unreferved  and  familiar  communication  of  fentiments  upon  every  fub. 
jec"t.  The  habitudes  of  intimacy,  begun  from  the  cradle,  were  (lengthened  by  daily  intercourfe, 
and  improved  by  a  fimilarity  of  tafte  and  of  purfuits,  into  a  friendfliip  that  conftituted  the  chief 
felicity  of  their  lives. 

Soon  after  his  coming  to  Edinburgh,  he  contracted  an  intimacy  with  Mr.  John  Grxme,  then 
tutor  to  the  fons  of  the  prefent  Lord  Chief  Baron  Montgomery,  a  young  man  of  an  amiable  difpo- 
fition  and  an  elegant  tafte,  who  cultivated  his  favourite  ftudies  with  congenial  enthufiafm>  and  ex. 
cited  him  to  poetical  compofition,  by  his  example  and  his  applaufe. 

This  amiable  and  ingenious  young  man,  endeared  to  the  prefent  writer,  by  his  virtue  and  his  ge 
nius,  died  of  a  confumption  in  1783,  without  obtaining  a  provifion  fuitable  to  his  merit.  A  fliort 
time  before  his  death,  he  wrote  the  pathetic  Invocation  to  Health,  preferved  in  this  collection, 
which  cannot  fail  of  touching  the  heart  of  every  one  who  reads  it. 

'  Among  his  fellow  collegians,  he  lived  in  habits  of  the  mod  familiar  intercourfe  with  Dr.  John 
Grjeve,  npw  a  phyfician  in  London,  whofe  well-known  ingenuity,  and  long-tried  friendfliip,  it  is  a 
jleafure  to  the  prefent  writer  to  recoiled  j  and  the  Rev.  Dr,  WiUia-m  Ga'rdiner,  now  minifter  of  the 


*IJ  THE   LIFE   OF   GRAEME. 

Englifli  congregation  at  Dantzick,  of  whofe  claffic  tafte,  and  focial  difpofition,  he  cannot  Indulge 

himlelf  in  the  remembrance,  without  anticipating  the  approaching  time, 

-When  Eurus,  to  his  native  bourne, 

Shall  waft  him  o'er  the  Scandinavian  wave. 

In  the  prelections  of  the  profeflbrs,  and  in  the  converfation  of  his  companions,  his  talents  founi 
ample  fcope  and  encouragement.  Accuftomed  to  excel,  his  defire  of  excellence  found  greater  ex 
citement;  and  his  induftry  was  equal  to  his  emulation,  which  prompted  him  to  aim  at  diftinctioa 
in  the  mod  abftrufe  and  difficult  ftudies,  where  either  a  competitor  or  applaufe  could  be  found. 

His  fuccefs  was  anfwerable  to  his  affidtiity.  In  claflical  learning,  he  furpafled  the  moft  induftri- 
ous  and  accomplished  ftudent  of  his  ftanding.  He  fpoke  and  compofed  in  Latin,  with  a  fluency  and 
elegance  that  had  few  examples.  He  even  exercifed  himfelf  a  little  in  Greek  compofition,  which  is 
not  often  done  in  the  Scottifh  univcrfities. 

The  acutenefs  of  his  intellect  enabled  him  to  enter  with  facility  into  the  abftrufeft  doctrine*  of 
abftract  philofophy.  Of  mathematics,  natural  philofophy,  and  metaphyfics,  his  knowledge  was  pro 
found  and  mafterly ;  particularly  of  the  latter,  to  the  ftudy  of  which  he  received  an  early  determina 
tion,  from  the  prevalence  of  fpeculative  theology  among  the  fewer  ranks  in  North  Britain. 

Heftudiedtheworksof  AriftotIe,Deieartes,Malebranche, Locke, Leibnitz, Clarke,  Berkeley, Baxter, 
Hume,  Hartley,  Reid.&c.  with  great  accuracy,  and  exercifed  his  ingenuity  in  writinglittle  efl'ays  on 
Innate  Ideal,  the  Immateriality  of  the  foul,  Sac.  which  mowed  extenfive  knowledge  of  pneumat*- 
logy,  of  logic,  and  of  philofophy  in  general. 

In  endeavouring  to  qualify  himfelf  for  deciding  queftions,  which  all  pretend  to  difpute  about,  he 
often  indulged  his  propeofity  to  metaphyfical  refinement,  in  maintaining  falfe  principles,  which, 
though  apparently  trifling,  from  the  confequences  they  implied,  and  the  mode  of  reafoning  they  au- 
thorifed,  fubjected  him,  among  the  unlearned,  to  the  imputation  of  freethinking. 

But  this  habit  of  difqufition  was  not  accompanied  with  a  difputatious  humour  in  converfation. 
Difpute  he  hated,  and  carefully  avoided.  He  knew  that  it  tends  to  contract  and  pervert  the  under- 
flanding,  deprave  the  tafte,  extinguifli  the  love  of  truth  and  of  delicacy,  and  render  the  heart  in- 
jcnfible  to  the  pleafures  of  rational  converfe. 

His  thoughts,  full  of  ardour  and  vivacity,  would  often  make  excurfions  beyond  the  limits  of  fyf- 
tem  and  the  narrow  views  of  prejudice ;  but  thefe  excurfions  were  made  with  modefty,  nor  was  bis 
propenfity  to  argument  ever  accompanied  with  arrogance,  being  merely  the  wantonnefs  of  confcious 
talents,  and  the  ebullition  of  youthful  vanity,  which  abated  and  fubfided  as  he  advanced  in  the  ftu« 
dy  of  a  more  liberal  and  enlightened  philofophy. 

Ethics,  politics,  hiftory,  poetry,  and  criticifm,  afforded  more  humanizing  fubjects  of  inquiry,  and 
unfolded  to  his  view  thofe  attractive  beauties,  to  which  his  mind  fcemed  to  have  an  innate  pro« 
penfity.  , 

Recognizing,  as  it  were  the  ftandard  of  excellence  congenial  to  his  tafte,  the  writings  of  Epicte- 
tus,  Plutarch,  Antoninus,  Cicero,  Seneca,  Shafteflniry,  Hutchefon,  &c.  Sydney,  Locke,  Montef- 
quien,  Roufleau,  &c.  Herodotus,  Xenophon,  Thucydides,  Livy,  Tacitus,  Burnet,  Robertfon,  &c. 
Homer,  Pindar,  Sophocles,  Lucretius,  Virgil,  Horace,  Ovid,  Taflb,  Boileau,  Moliere,  Voltaire, 
Sp«nfer,  Shakfpeare,  Milton,  Dryden,  Pope,  Tbomfon,  &L.C.  Longinus,  Quintilian,  Boflu, 
Kaims,  &c.,  became  his  favourite  ftudy,  and  fupplantcd  every  inquifitive  purfuit  of  a  lefs  ami 
able  tendency. 

The  enchantment  of  metaphyfical  philofophy,  the  vifions  of  Malebranche,  and  the  fubtilties  of 
Hume,  now  loft  poffeffion  of  his  admiring  fancy.  FulJ  of  admiration  of  the  inftructive-  and  fublime 
•writings  of  the  moralift,  the  hiftorian,  the  poet,  and  the  critic,  he  forfook  the  ftudy  of  an  illufive 
and  unfatisfactory  philofophy,  whofe  fophiftry  deceives  the  uuderftanding,  and  whofe  fcepticifm  eon. 
tracts  the  heart. 

His  attention  was  now  awake  to  learn  what  might  be  ufeful  in  improving  his  tafte,  enriching 
his  fentiments,  and  regulating  his  conduct.  His  chief  delight  was  to  perufe  the  moft  approved  de 
lineations  of  virtue  and  of  nature,  and  the  moft  fuccefsful  reprefentations  of  life  and  of  manners,  and 
his  higheft  ambition  to  rival  the  belt  waiters  in  the  different  departments  of  clafjkal  and  ornament* 
*1  literature. 


THE  LIFE   OF   GRJEME.  4t$ 

A  paffion  for  romantic  fiction  and  fabulous  hiftory,  appeared  in  him  very  early  in  life,  which  was 
heightened  and  confirmed  by  a  diligent  perufal  of  the  old  romances  of  Scudery,  D'  Urfe,  Sydney,  &c., 
and  the  modern  novels  of  Cervantes,  Le  Sage,  Marivaux,  Roufleau,  De  Foe,  Richardfon,  Fielding, 
Smollet,  &c. 

Of  the  Gothic,  Celtic,  and  Oriental  mythology,  he  was  a  warm  admirer ;  and  frequently  attempt 
ed  imitations  of  the  wild  and  flowery  fidtiom  of  the  northern  and  eaftern  nations.  An  imitation 
of  OJfian  is  printed  among  his  poems.  His  turn  for  oriental  compofition  appeared  in  the  folwtioa 
of  a  pnilofophic  queftion,  propofed  by  Dr.  Ferguffbn,  as  a  college  exercife,  Whether  perfonal qualities 
or  external  advantages  are  moft  conducive  to  bappinefs  ?  which  he  chofe  to  exemplify  in  the  form 
of  a  tale,  conceived  and  executed  with  all  the  fire  and  invention  of  eaftern  imagination. 

In  profccuting  his  favourite  ftudies,  his  paffion  for  reading  was  infatiable,  but  too  often  indifcri- 
minate ;  for  as  h«  had  not  the  means  of  purchafing  proper  books,  and  had  accefs  to  no  private 
library,  he  eagerly  perufed  fuch  books  as  the  kindnefs  of  his  friends,  the  circulating  libraries,  or 
the  library  of  the  univerfity  fupplicd. 

In  the  departments  of  philofophical,  critical,  and  philological  learning,  he  was  chiefly  indebted 
to  the  library  of  the  univerfity ;  by  the  ftatutes  of  which,  every  ftmdent  who  is  matriculated,  may 
take  a  certain  number  of  books  from  the  library  to  his  own  apartments,  on  depofiting  a  fum  equi 
valent  to  their  value,  in  the  hands  of  the  librarian,  which  is  returned  to  him  when  he  returns  the 
books.  In  borrowing  expenfive  books,  the  pecuniary  depofit  required  in  the  library,  was  fome- 
times  wanting,  a  mortification  which  he  acquiefced  under  with  lefs  patience  than  any  other  inci 
dent  to  the  narrownefs  of  his  circumftances. 

His  literary  intrepidity  is  humouroufly  defcribed  in  the  following  lines  of  the  Stndent,  a  poem 
written  about  this  time,  and  published  in  Ruddiman's  "  Weekly  Magazine,"  a  moft  ufeful  perio-. 
dical  publication,  in  which  feveral  valuable  original  pieces  may  be  found. 

I  read  whate'er  commenting  Dutchmen  wrote, 
Turn'd  o'er  Stobaeus,  and  could  Suidas  quote ; 
In  letter'd  Gellius  trac'd  the  bearded  fage, 
Through  all  the  windings  of  a  wife  adage ; 
Was  the  fpedlator  of  each  honeft  fear, 
Each  fophift  carry'd  from  each  wordy  war. 
Undaunted  was  my  heart,  nor  could  appal 
The  muftieft  volume  of  the  muftieft  ftall ; 
Where'er  I  turn'd,  the  giant  fpiders  fled, 
And  trembling  moths  retreated  as  I  read,  &c. 

He  declined  no  philological  difquifition,  profound  or  verbal ;  nor  flirunk  from  the  moft  cultivated 
or  barren  province  of  critical  learning,  or  claflkal  antiquities ; 

Attended  heroes  to  the  bloody  fields, 

Their  helmets  polifti'd,  and  embofs'd  their  fhields, 

With  duteous  hand  the  decent  matron  dreft, 

And  wrap'd  the  (tripling  in  his  manly  veft, 

Nor  ftopt  I  there,  but  mingled  with  the  boys, 

Their  rattles  rattled,  and  improv'd  their  toys, 

Lafti'd  conic  turbos  as  in  gyres  they  flew, 

Beftrode  their  hobbies,  and  their  whittles  blew,  Sec. 

In  1768,  he  was  engaged  by  Laurence  Brown,  Efq.  of  Edmonfton,  to  aflifl  the  ftudies  of  In* 
fons.  Mr.  Brown  then  refided  at  Eaft-hills,  in  the  parifh  of  Dunfyre.  In  this  retreat  he  fpent  his 
vacation ;  and  while  he  promoted  the  literary  labours  of  his  pupils,  he  purfued  his  own,  and  ap- 
plied  himfelf  particularly  to  the  ftudy  of  poetry. 

The  genuine  principles  of  poetry  were  connate  with  his-  mind.  They  had  been  actuated  and 
awakened  by  the  ftudy  of  thefe.  writings  that  are  moft  impregnated  with  poetical  enthufiafm.  He 
had  acquired  a  competent  ftock  of  moral  and  natural  knowledge  ;  and  his  mind  was  fo  well  furniflied 
with  poetical  ideas,  that  his  imagination  feemed  to  riot  over  her  intellectual  feaft.  But  his  poetical 
powers  were  confined  to  the  narrow  province  of  external  defcription,  and  the  walks  of  humour  and 
fatire.  He  had  written  Pajlorals,  crowded  with  trite  fentiments  and  images  borrowed  from  Theo- 
critus  and  Virgil,  compofed  »  mock-heroic  poem,  called  Tht  Ralfbiaii,  in  three  cantos,  with  anno* 


*t4  THE  LIFE   OF  GRJEME, 

tations,  in  imitation  of  Pope's  "  Dunciad ;''  and  produced  a  variety  of  fliorter  pieces,  in  Hodi- 
braftic  verfe,  with  verfions  from  Simonides,  Theocritus,  Horace,  Ovid,  Tibullus,  Propertius,  &c. 
But  he  had  not  attained  to  the  nobleft  end  of  poetry,  the  power  of  addrefling  himfelf  to  the  heart. 
The  paflion  of  love  was  yet  wanting  to  kindle  the  flame  of  enthufiafm,  and  to  improve  his  poeti 
cal  imagination  ;  and  he  was  hardy  enough  to  ri(k  the  dangers  attending  it,  though  warned  by  his 
favourite  Thomfon,  one  of  the  poets  of  our  country,  who  was  nurfed  in  the  lap  of  nature,  and 
caught  the  true  infpiring  breath. 

And  let  th'  afpiring  youth  beware  of  love, 

Of  the  fmooth  glance  beware ; — the  kindling  grace ; 

Th'  enticing  fmile  ;  the  modeft-feeming  eye,  &c. 

Spring. 

In  the  quiet  of  rural  folitude,  of  which  every  true  poet  is  fond,  he  became  acquainted  with  a 
young  lady,  whofe  beauty  and  accomplilhments  made  an  impreffion  on  his  fufceptible  heart ; 
•which  contributed  greatly  to  heighten  his  poetical  enthufiafm,  and  determined  his  choice  of  the 
fpecies  of  compofition  he  chiefly  cultivated ; 

•                         the  fong  of  woe, 
The  word-weigh'd  elegy,  of  liquid  lapfe, 
And  cadence  glib 

His  tender  attachment  to  this  lad.y,  which  ended  but  with  his  life,  produced  a  variety  of  ama 
tory  poems,  written  under  the  character  of  ALEXIS,  and  addrefled  to  her  under  the  names  of  ELIZA 
and  MIR  A,  which  may  be  confidered  as  the  mod  univerfally  interefting  of  his  poetical  compofitions. 

In  1769,  he  obtained  the  notice  of  Alexander  Lockhart,  Efq.  then  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Ad 
vocates,  afterwards  a  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Seffion,  by  the  title  of  Lord  Covington,  to  whofe  pa 
tronage  his  family  had  fome  pretenfions.  Mr.  Lockhart,  whofe  learning  and  eloquence  conftitute  an 
era  in  the  hiftory  of  the  Scottifli  bar,  was  the  grandfon  of  Sir  George  Lockhart,  Lord  Prefident  of 
the  Court  of  Seffion,  fon  of  George  Lockhart,  Efq.  author  of  the  "  Memoirs  of  Scotland,"  and 
uncle  to  James  Lockhart,  Efq.  Count  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  the  reprefentative  of  the  family 
of  Lee  and  Carnwath,  upon  whofe  eftate  his  father  then  refided. 

In  the  latter  end  of  that  year,  he  was  prefented,  on  the  recommendation  of  Mr.  Lockhart,  to  a 
burfary  or  exhibition  in  the  univerfity  of  St.  Andrew's,  which  he  accepted ;  but  found  reafon  foon 
after  to  decline,  upon  difcovering  that  it  fubjected  him  to  repeat  a  courfe  of  languages  and  philofo- 
phy,  which  the  extent  of  his  acquifitions,  and  the  ardour  of  his  ambition,  taught  him  to  hold  in  no 
great  eftimation. 

This  ftep,  it  may  be  fuppofed,  did  not  meet  with  the  approbation  of  Mr.  Lockhart,  and  the  only 
advantage  he  derived  from  the  exhibition,  was  a  view  of  the  venerable  city  of  St.  Andrew's,  whofe 
"  fpires,  to  Gothic  fancy  fair,"  amufed  his  imagination,  and  an  acquaintance  which  he  contracted 
during  his  fhort  (lay,  with  Wilkie,  Profeflbr  of  Natural  Philofophy  in  the  United  College,  author 
of  "  the  Epigoniad,"  whofe  converfation  and  example  encouraged  his  propenfity  to  the  ftudy  of 
poetry,  and  confirmed  him  in  the  purfuit  of  poetical  fame. 

In  1770,  he  refumed  his  ftudies  at  Edinburgh,  and  having  finimed  the  ufual  preparatory  courfe, 
was  admitted  into  the  theological  clafs ;  but  the  ftate  of  his  health,  which  foon  after  began  to  de 
cline,  prevented  him  delivering  any  of  the  exercifes  ufually  prefcribed  to  ftudents  of  divinity. 

He  fpent  the  vacation  in  the  retirement  of  his  native  village,  dividing  the  time  between  poetical 
compofition,  the  ftudy  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  poets,  and  an  examination  of  the  arguments  of  the 
principal  writers  on  the  Deiftical  controverfy,  Bayle,Hobbes,Collins,Toland,  Tindal,  Chubb,  Morgan, 
Bolingbroke,  Sec.  Bentley,  Butler,  Coneybeare,  Leland,  Fofter,  Campbell,  &c.  which  he  ftudied  with 
indefatigable  application.  The  refult  of  his  examination  was  fuch  as  may  be  always  expected  in 
like  cafes,  where  the  inquirer  has  candour  and  fenfe,  a  decided  conviction  of  the  truth  of  Chrifti- 
mjiity. 

Polemical  divinity,  and  Biblical  criticifm,  occupied  alfo  his  particular  attention.  The  writings 
of  Cudworth,  Hooker,  Baxter,  Barrow,  Tillotfon,  Burnet,  Clarke,  Hoadley,  Balguy,  Doddridge, 
Warburton,  Middleton,  Jortin,  Gerard,  Sec.  he  ftudied  with  his  ufual  accuracy.  Of  modern  di- 
Yines  his  greateft  favourites  were  Clarke,  and  Jortin.  Of  the  contracted  principles  and  unamiable 
prejudices  of  feftaries,  he  had  ao  conception.  Tlje  wprds  Prelb^tsrfaa  and  EpifcopaUan,  Lutheras 


THE   LIFE   OF   GRJEME.  41$ 

and  Calvinift  he  well  underftood ;  but  fet  no  value  on  them.    The  title  of  a  Chriftian  he  thought 
infinitely  more  honourable. 

In  his  claflkal  and  philofophical  (Indies,  he  was  greatly  encouraged  by  the  converfation  and  ex 
ample  of  the  Rev.  John  Chriftie,  minifter  of  Carnwath  ;  a  man  who  had  from  nature,  vigour  of  in 
tellect  ;  from  ftudy,  enlargement  of  knowledge  ;  and  from  habit,  precifion  of  reafoning.  He  united 
folidity  of  judgment,  nicety  of  criticifm,  and  elegance  of  tafte,  with  friendlinefs  of  difpofition,  politenefs 
of  manners,  and  goodnefs  of  heart.  He  was  a  mafter  in  Greek  and  Latin,  and  in  acquiring  thofe  Ian- 
guages,  Graeme  was  much  aided  by  t£e  communication  of  his  (kill  in  the  grammatical  art ;  without 
which  it  is  impoflible  to  learn  them  with  accuracy.  The  prefent  writer  knew  him  very  early,  and 
participated  in  the  advantages  which  Grseme  derived  from  the  accuracy  of  his  tafte,  bis  liberality  of 
communication,  and  the  fincerity  of  his  friendship  ;  of  which  at  lead  his  gratitude,  affection,  and 
veneration,  made  him  not  unworthy.  He  died  DecemV>er  16.  1776,  in  the  58th  year  of  his  age, 
leaving  his  worthy  confort  to  lament  the  lofs  of  an  affectionate  huiband,  his  children,  an  indulgent 
parent,  his  parifh,  a  pious  and  diligent  paftor,  and  the  prefent  writer,  an  intelligent  and  fincere 
advifer. 

At  the  maofe  of  Carnwath,  Graeme  enjoyed  many  agreeable  hours;  with  fuch  companions  as  Mr. 
George  Scott,  fchoolmafter  of  the  village,  and  a  probationer  of  the  pre(bytery  of  Lanark,  a  man  of  a 
focial,  cheerful,  and  affectionate  difpofition,  and  Mr.  William  Stodart,  fon  of  James  Stodart,  Efq. 
factor  to  Count  Lockhart ;  a  man  whole  vigorous  faculties,  and  various  attainments,  predominated 
over  his  opportunities  of  improvement ;  and  whole  modeft  worth,  liberality  of  fentiment,  and  ami 
able  manners,  made  him  the  delight  of  thofe  friends  to  whom  he  was  thoroughly  known.  Mr.  Stodart 
became  afterwards  an  architect,  an  employment  for  which  he  was  eminently  qualified  by  his  habits 
of  ftudy,  and  died  at  Hamilton,  of  a  confumption,  in  1790,  in  the  4zd  of  year  his  age. 

But  the  time  was  now  at  hand  when  all  bis  connections  of  friendftiip  were  to  be  diflblved,  when 
all  his  occupations  of  ftudy  and  of  amufement  were  to  be  difcontinued,  and  when  all  his  purfuits  in 
poetry  and  literature  were  to  ceafe  for  ever. 

In  the  fummer  1771,  he  was  engaged,  upon  the  recommendation  of  Mr.  Chriftie,  by  Martin 
White,  Efq.  of  Milton,  near  Lanark,  to  affift  the  ftudies  of  his  fons. 

He  entered  on  his  new  employment  on  the  24th  of  July,  and  foon  gained  the  affectionate  at 
tachment  of  his  pupils,  and  the  friendfhip  of  Mr.  White,  which,  as  his  amiable  worth  and  poetical 
talents  became  known,  was  warm  even  to  enthufiafm. 

Mr.  White  was  defcended  of  mean  parents  in  the  weft  of  Scotland  ;  when  very  young,  he  entered 
as  a  volunteer  into  the  fervice  of  the  Eaft  India  Company,  and  in  the  war  1756,  his  courage  and  in 
trepidity  recommended  him  to  a  pair  of  colours.  In  1760,  he  had  the  command  of  a  company  in 
Bengal.  In  the  memorable  revolution  of  that  year  he  adhered  to  Governor  Vanfittart,  was  ho 
noured  with  his  confidence,  and  numbered  among  his  friends.  In  every  fervice  to  which  he  was  ap 
pointed,  his  gallantry  and  conduct  were  confpicuous.  He  had  a  fhare  in  the  mod  diftinguifhed 
actions  with  Colonels  Caillaud  and  Yorke.  In  1763,  he  left  the  fervice  with  the  rank  of  Major,  and  a 
genteel  fortune.  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  Scotland,  he  purchafed  the  eftate  of  Milton.  He  married 
Mifs  Reid,  of  Saltcoats,  Ayrshire,  by  whom  he  had  four  children.  In  1775,  bathing  in  the 
river  Clyde,  near  his  own  houfe,  he  was  feized  with  a  fit,  and  unfortunately  periflied.  His  cha 
racter  bore  no  traces  of  his  original  meannefs.  Without  the  advantage  of  a  liberal  education,  he 
pofferled  the  trueft  fentiments  of  honour,  a  generous  fenfibility,  a  penetrating  judgment,  an  exten- 
five  knowledge,  improved  by  reading,  and  a  confiderable  (hare  of  tafte  and  (kill  in  polite  literature. 
His  filial  affection  was  truly  exemplary.  He  received  his  father,  a  day4abourer,  into  his  houfe, 
placed  him  at  his  table,  and  treated  him  with  every  mark  of  attention  and  refpect.  The  romantic 
circumftance  of  his  firft  vifit  to  him,  in  his  obfcurity,  is  fuppofed  to  be  the  original  of  the  ftory  of 
Brown  in  Smollet's  "  Expedition  of  Humphry  Clinker."  He  was  the  early  friend  and  patron  of 
the  late  ingenious  Colonel  Dow,  of  whofe  gratitude  and  ingenuity,  there  exifts  a  curious  monument 
in  a  MS.  heroic  poem,  celebrating  bis  military  fervices,  in  the  pofieffion  of  his  family. 

Of  this  performance  Graeme  gives  the  following  account,  in  a  letter  to  the  prefent  writer,  dated 
Milton,  Aug.  29.  1771.  "  I  have  gained  the  Major's  confidence  fo  far  as  to  be  admitted  to  the 
peryfal  of  his  pr,v.U«  marmicripts,  among  which  there  is  an  heroic  poem  by  Mr.  POW,  of  jvliicb  Us 


4t6  THE  LIFE   OF  GR.EME. 

is  the  hero.  It  is,  on  the  whole,  a  tame,  dry,  unanimated  performance  ;  a  mere  journal  of  marches, 
encampments,  and  trivial  incidents,  thrown  into  a  kind  of  hobbling  rneafure ;  while  here  and  there 
(to  parody  Horace) 

Purpureus  late  qui  fplendeat  units  et  alter, 
Afluitur  pannus  cum  lucus  et  Bramatis  ara 
Et  properantis  aquae  per  amaenos,  ambitus  agros, 
Autflumen  Ganges  aut  pluvius  defcribitur  arcus 
Cum  nunc  non  erat  his  locus - 

*'  Mr.  Dow  himfelf  beft  knows  whether  his  own  genius  or  intereft  led  him  to  the  choice  of  a  fub- 
ject,  the  leaft  of  all  capable  of  poetical  embellifhment.  I  fufpect  the  latter.  The  author  of 
•'  Zingis''  left  to  the  fprightly  fallies  of  an  unfettered  fancy,  would  certainly  make  a  more  gainly 
figure  in  the  grove  of  the  mufes.  However,  he  has  my  hearty  thanks  for  an  hour's  tolerable  enter 
tainment  his  labours  afforded  me. 

«  The  letters,"  he  adds,  "  of  which  I  have  read  fome  quires,  may  all  be  authentic  and  true,  for 
ought  I  know;  but  what  imports  to  you  or  me,  to  pry  into  the  private  affairs  of  the  unfortunate 
and  ambitious  Shah-zadah,  the  intriguing  Rajah  Coffim-aly-khan,  or  the  villanous  Soubah  Nadir  ? 
The  warrior-correfpondents,  Carnac,  Caillaud,  Yorke,  Knox,  Sec.  write  all  a  pretty  neat  manly 
flyle.  The  Major  makes  no  indifferent  figure  among  them,  I  affure  you,  either  in  point  of  fenfe, 
courage,  or  confideration.  His  fuperiors  fpeak  of  him  with  deference,  and  allow  that  his  joining 
Major  (afterwards  Colonel)  Yorke,  with  a  party,  fo  inconfiderable  when  compared  with  the  vail  num. 
fcers  that  oppofed  him,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  paries,  equalled,  if  not  furpaffed  any  thing  achieved 
*n  the  whole  war.  His  perfonal  bravery  (and  indeed  he  appears  to  have  killed  two  Indian  chiefs 
with  hi*  own  hand)  is  acknowledged  to  have  been  nothing  to  his  prudence  and  conduct.  You 
would  be  furprifed  at  his  letters ;  they  have  more  elegance,  fentiment,  and  propriety,  than  are 
commonly  to  be  met  with." 

The  diftinction  which  was  paid  him  by  Mr.  White,  and  the  reputation  of  his  abilities,  procured 
him  the  acquaintance  of  Dr.  Mackinlay,  of  Woodfide,  the  Rev.  James  Scott,  of  Carluke,  and 
other  intelligent  and  refpectable  gentlemen  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  and  entitled  him  to  familiarity 
with  perfons  of  higher  rank  than  thofe  to  whofe  converfation  he  had  been  before  admitted  ;  which 
ferved  to  enlarge  his  knowledge  of  human  life,  and  afforded  him  opportunities  of  indulging  his 
fpeculations  on  cenfpicuous  characters,  for  which  he  was  admirably  qualified  by  the  quicknefs  of 
Ills  difcernment,  and  the  inquifitivenefs  which  is  natural  to  an  adive  and  vigorous  mind.  In  every 
perfon,  and  in  every  occurrence  he  found  fomething  that  deferved  attention,  and  he  regularly  com 
municated  his  obfervations  to  the  prefent  writer,  in  a  kind  of  weekly  journal,  written  in  a  correct, 
eafy,  and  fimple  Kyle,  and  like  his  converfation,  feafoned  with  that  unaffected  and  playful  humour 
in  which  he  fo  greatly  excelled. 

In  his  firft  letter  to  him,  dated  Milton,  July  26.  1771,  he  gives  the  following  humorous  account 
of  the  apartment  allotted  to  him,  on  the  attic  ftory.  "  After  many  a  weary  ftep,  I  had  the  good 
fortune  to  reach  my  apartment,  i°  15  and  as  many  feconds,  on  this  fide  abfolute  giddinefs.  In 
fpite  of  the  carpet,  the -chairs,  the  hangings,  and  a  thoufand  fripperies  with  which  it  is  decked,  I 
fufpect  it  is  neither  more  nor  lefs  than  a  garret.  I  had  not  been  fix  minutes  in  it,  before  1  difco- 
•vered  to  my  forrow,  that  I  was  not  like  to  be  its  only  inhabitant.  A  thriving  family  of  fwallow% 
with  open  mouth,  faluted  me  very  familiarly  from  the  chimney,  and  an  obliging  colony  of  rats 
tired  themfelves  very  heartily  to  communicate  to  me  an  idea  of  a  horfe  race,  by  fcampering  along 
the  cieling.  The  familiarity  of  the  one,  and  the  fprightly  humour  of  the  other,  could  not  hinder 
the  exertion  of  a  certain  natural  antipathy  in  my  breaft,  towards  the  immediate  expulfion  of  my 
brother  garreteers.  However,  not  to  incur  fingly  the  odium  of  diflodging  old  tenants,  I  affbciated 
to  me  my  trufty  friends,  the  foatman  and  the  cat.  William  fet  on  a  large  fire,  with  a  defign  to 
fend  the  fwallows  to  tkeir  winter  quarters,  by  fumigation  or  otherwife,  while  Tabby,  with  a  very 
fignificant  mew,  gave  her  bearded  coufins  to  underftand  what  might  be  the  fatal  confequences  of  fa 
prepofterous  a  mirth  perfifted  in." 

In  the  beginning  of  his  letter  to  him,  dated  Auguft  apth,  he  reflects  on  the  happinefs  which  hi 
derivd,  from  bis  periodical  correfpondente,  in  the  following  terms  of  exultation :  ««  Wh»t  a  com- 


THE  LIFE  OF  GRAEME.  417 

fortable  thing  it  is  for  one  that  is  obliged  to  act  a  borrowed  part  (and  that  a  very  dull  one  too)  to 
break  through  the  formal  fetters  'hat  hang  fo  heavy  on  him,  and  be  at  leaft  one  day  in  feven,  him* 
felf.  My  countenance  brightens,  more  manly  fpirits  expand  my  heart,  and  every  limb  exults  in  its 
native  freedom,  and  performs  its  office  with  greater  alacrity.  'Tis  here  I  breathe,  and  I  don't 
know  whether  I  can  be  faid  to  live  any  where  elfe.  Here  reafon  afTumes  a  firmer  tone,  and  judg 
ment  decides  with  proper  affurance  of  men,  manners,  and  things,  her  almoft  forgotten  theme.  Let 
me  catch  the  propitious  moment,  and  exhauft  the  friendly  breaft,  ere  "  the  curfew  toll  the  knell'' 
of  departing  liberty,  and  choke  each  glow  of  genius,  in  the  cold,  form-condenfed  atmofphere  of  % 
dining-room." 

During  his  continuance  with  Mr.  White,  moft  of  his  time  was  fpent  in  aflifting  the  literary  labours 
«f  his  pupils,  or  in  promoting  the  focial  pleafures  of  the  family,  by  the  vivacity  and  fprightlinefs  of 
his  converiation.  His  knowledge  of  nature  and  extenfive  learning,  fupplied  him  with  innumerable 
images,  and  his  lively  fancy,  aided  by  a  ready  eloquence,  enabled  him  to  combine  them,  with  an 
amazing  exuberance  of  humour  and  pleafantry. 

His  mufe,  however,  was  not  idle.  While  he  was  practifing  the  duties  of  his  employment,  and 
the  arts  of  converfation,  he  dedicated  a  confiderable  proportion  of  his  time  to  reading,  and  found 
leifure  to  write  verfes,  with  his  ufual  promptitude  of  invention,  and  facilty  of  compofition. 

The  following  inftance,  among  others,  is  not  incurious.  In  the  autumn  1771,  Archibald  Ha 
milton,  Efq.  of  the  Ifle  of  Man,  and  his  new  married  lady,  a  daughter  of  the  late  Robert  Din- 
widdie,  Efq.  Governor  of  Virginia,  were  on  a  vifit  at  Milton.  It  happened  that  Graeme  made 
one  of  the  company  at  dinner,  and  being  privately  requefted  by  Mr.  White,  to  prefent  the  new- 
married  couple  with  a  poetical  compliment,  he  retired  t«  his  apartment,  and  in  little  more  than 
half  an  hour,  produced  a  poem  to  Archibald,  Hamilton,  Efq.  on  bis  marriage  with  Mifs  Dinvjiddie* 
confifting  of  fifty-fix  lines,  which  difplays  a  happy  invention,  and  great  command  of  numbers. 
Mr.  Hamilton  and  his  lady  were  highly  pleafed  with  his  performance,  and  returned  their  acknow 
ledgments  in  the  following  extemporaneous  lines,  exprefiive  of  their  gratitude,  and  admiration  of 
his  genius. 

Health  to  th'  ingenious  bard  we  grateful  fend,  4 

Heav'n  guard  his  talents  and  his  life  defend  j 

When  themes  fo  humble  can  infpire  his  lay, 

And  call  fuch  powers  of  fancy  into  play ; 

What  notes  fublime  may  we  expect  to  hear, 

His  ftory's  grace  drawn  from  a  higher  fphere! 

Thus  encouraged  and  applauded,  he  continued  to  exercife  his  genius  in  poetical  competition ;  and 
wrote  his  Abra,  a  fragment ;  Alexis,  a  tale ;  and  fome  verfes  to  Mr.  White,  in  the  couplet  mefcfure, 
which,  from  this  time,  he  constantly  ufed,  with  the  fingle  exception  of  the  elegiac  fragment  on  tb*. 
loft  of  the  Aurora. 

He  fpent  hii  time,  upon  the  whole,  not  unufefully,  nor  unpleafantly ;  but  neither  the  kindnefs  of 
Mr.  White,  nor  the  docility  of  his  pupils,  could  reconcile  him  to  a  ftate  of  dependence,  nor  rcftore 
the  tranquillity  of  his  mind. 

ID  a  letter  to  the  prefent  writer,  dated  Auguft  lift,  he  obferVes,  "  In  vain  do  you  wreft  a  few- 
innocent  phrafes  in  my  laft— in  vain  draw  the  flattering  conclufion  that  I  am  happy — happy  1  de 
pendence  and  happinefs,  I  am  afraid, are  two  incompatible  things;  I  have  ever  found  them  fo.  Books, 
indeed,  I  have — Voltaire,  Hume,  Rapin,  Robertfon,  Swift,  Pope,  Univerfal  Hiftory,  Biographi* 
Britannica,  Reviews,  Voyages,  and  a  thoufand  others ;  but  where  is  the  friendly  face  divine  ? 
Where  it  Mira  ?  Where  is  every  thing  that  can  fweeten  focial  life  ?  As  far  as  eaft  is  diftant 
from,  &cc.  But  let  me  flop— I  never  touch  that  firing,  but  it  vibrates  fo  long,  that  I  become  at 
the  fame  time  both  wearifome  and  ridiculous.  It  ill  becomes  a  pretender  to  philofophy  to  be  difla- 
tisfied  with  that  ftation  in  the  fcale  of  fociety  which  Providence  has  afligned  him.  Though  the  moffc 
abject  dependence,  an  artificial  poverty  of  fpirit,  an4  the  fncer  of  undeferved  contempt,  be  objects, 
of  all  others,  one  mould  think,  the  leaft  definable  to  an  ingenuous  mind,  yet  '  murmur  not,'  fays 
the  Parenetic  fage, '  nay,  rather  rejoice  jn  thy  profperous  fortune,  thou  gloomy  child  of  difcontent  £ 

Vei.  XI.  P  d 


4t*  TftELIFEOF 

give  her  food,  give  her  raiment,  and  nature  is  fatibfied  ;  thou  haft  thefe,  thou  haft  more  than  tlirfe> 
modo  contrahe  vela  et  i-ale :  thou  hall  no  more  to  do,  than  juft  correct  the  dreams  of  an  heated 
fancy,  by  the  cool  determinations  of  reafon,  and  be  as  happy  as  a  prince.'  'Tis  a  great  pity  that 
a  thing  to  very  obvious  in  theory,  that  the  raweft  (Indent  of  moral  philofophy  comprehends  it  per- 
fectly,  ftiould  grow  fo  crofs,  and  wind  itfcif  into  fuch  a  multiplicity  of  intricate  warpings  and  im- 
plexures,  as  to  defy  the  moft  patient  and  ikilful  unraveller,  that  ever  whirled  a  philofophical 
\vindlafs,  to  make  fo  much  of  it  as  a  bandage  for  the  little  finger  of  Affliction,  far  lefs  a  complete 
ft arcloth  for  the  leprous  fons  of  Misfortune  '—Tell  me  honeftly,  don't  you  think  life  is  an  infipid  tedi 
ous,  irregular,  tragi-comic  farce  ?  The  firft  act  is  an  unincidental  infantine  piece  of  trifling  low 
humour.  The  two  firft  fcenes  of  the  fecond  are  tolerably  pleafant  and  charadteriftical;  the  remain 
ing  ones  become  gradually  more  flat  and  uninterefting.  The  fpectators  and  actors  equally  defire 
the  cataftrophe.  It  is  delayed  by  incidents  unpleafant  and  unexpected.  We  turn  our  eyes  on  the 
fcenes  that  formerly  gave  us  pleafure,  and  demand  them  with  a  vain  encore  .'  We  demand  impofli- 
hilities.  The  fcenery  is  painted  with  fading  colours;  they  glitter  for  a  moment,  and  perifh;  and  the 
rood  fkilful  painter  cannot  reftore  the  tranfitory  tints.  What  can  we  do  ?  Why,  juft  wilh  for  the  ca 
taftrophe  again,  and  prefer  our  dark,  coid,  narrow,  hereditary  dwelling,  to  the  magnificent  wide 
illuminated  theatre.— Away  with  life  !  I  never  think  of  it  but  it  puts  me  out  of  humour.  For  the 
love  of  God  write  every  week  ;  it  is  all  the  comfort  I  have." 

In  the  focial  circle,  however,  he  was  capable  of  putting  on  for  a  while  the  gay  colours  of  mirth  and 
cheerfulnefs,  to  cover  that  penfive  melancholy,  which  the  family  had  no  opportunity  of  witneffing. 
Even  on  thediftrefles  of  his  too  fufceptible  mind,  that  fancy,  in  whofe  creation  he  fo  much  delighted, 
threw  a  certain  romantic  fhade  of  melancholy,  which  left  him  fad,  but  did  not  make  him  unhappy. 

Meantime,  the  approbation  which  his  compofitions  had  received  from  Mr.  White,  and  his  friends, 
-made  him  conceive  a  defign  of  publishing  a  volume  of  poems,  in  which  he  meant  to  include  the 
pieces  which  had  appeared  in  Ruddiman's  "  Weekly  Magazine,''  his  Elegies,  in  conjunction  with 
thofe  of  the  prefent  writer,  on  fimilar  fubjects,  his  verfion  of  Mufteus,  the  Student,  Night-Piece, 
Alexis,  and  other  mifcellaneous  pieces.  In  the  profecution  of  this  defign  he  was  warmly  encouraged 
"by  Mr.  White,  who  teftitied,  upon  every  occafion,  the  utmoft  folicitude  to  promote  his  fortune  and 
lis  fame. 

It  is  a  confideration  mortifying  to  human  pride,  that  fine  talents  and  the  moftexquifite  fenfibility 
are  but  too  often  the  predifpofing  caufe  of  an  infidious  and  fatal  difeafe.  The  hiftory  of  the  human 
mind  furniflies  many  examples  of  premature  genius,  not  unfrequently  connected  with  extreme 
weaknefs  and  delicacy  of  frame.  This  connection  is  not  accounted  for  in  the  common  fyftems  of 
the  animal  economy,  which  fuppofe  the  growth  of  the  body,  and  developement  of  the  mental 
faculties  to  be  progrelTive  and  proportional,  till  they  reach  the  point  of  maturity.  The  body,  it 
is  faid,  moots  out  till  the  age  of  twenty,  and  the  folids  are  attaining  a  degree  of  denfity  till  thirty; 
when  the  flexible  mufcles,  growing  daily  more  rigid,  give  a  pbyjiotpiomie,  or  character  to  the 
countenance,  and  energy  to  the  mind.  Though  fomething  like  this  progrefs  is  obferved  to  take 
place,  efpecially  among  the  individuals  of  our  fpecies,  who  arrive  flowly  at  maturity,  and  are 
diftinguiihed  by  longevity ;  yet  it  is  obferved,  to  be  infinitely  diverfified  in  different  perfons,  from 
caufes  not  very  obvious,  nor  of  eafy  explanation.  The  moft  probable  caufes  appear  to  the  prefent 
writer  to  be  chiefly  phyfical ;  for  in  the  cafes  of  mental  precocity  that  have  fallen  under  his  obfer- 
xation,  the  early  proofs  of  reafon  and  genius  were  connected  with  appearances  of  a  more  fenfible 
organization,  .and  more  irritable  nerves ;  and,  moft  frequently,  with  that  peculiar  ftructure  of  the 
glands  and  lymphatic  veflels,  which  gives  a  predifpofition  \fifcropbula  and  pulmonary  confumptions 

While  the  fcheme  of  publication  was  ripening,  he  was  feized  with  a  fever  and  cough,  which, 
almoft  unperceived,  and  for  fonae  time,  without  any  pofitive  pain,  terminated  in  a  pulmonary  con- 
fumption  ;  a  difeafe  to  which  his  delicacy  of  frame  and  of  mind  gave  him  a  peculiar  predifpofition, 
and  of  which  he  had  always  been  particularly  apprehenfive  ;  efpecially  after  it  had  deprived  him 
of  a  brother  and  a  fifter,  a  few  years  before. 

In  a  letter  to  the  prefent  writer,  dated  September  23.  1771,  he  expreffes  his  feelings  on  this 
»rcnt  in  a  flrain  of  manly  dignity  and  compefure.  "  J3y  little  Icfs  than  a  miracle,  I  am  en* 


THE   LIFE   OF   GR^SME.  419 

abled  t6  communicate  to  you  an  event  the  moft  important  that  ever  entered  into  our  correfpon- 
dence.  You  will  pity  me,  yes,  you  will  pity  me,  when  you  know  that  I  am  far  gone  in  a  con- 
fumption.  I  cannot  walk  three  yards  without  heing  the  worfe  of  it.  I  have  a  prodigious  pain  in  my 
head  and  breaft,  attended  with  a  great  difficulty  in  breathing.  I  fweat  in  the  mornings,  and  have, 
in  fhort,  all  the  fymptoms  of  a  decline.  I  promife  myfelf  fome  advantage  from  riding,  which  ex- 
ercife  1  begin  to-morrow ;  as  the  Major  and  Mrs.  White  have  been  fo  good  as  fet  apart  a  poney  for 
my  fok  ufe.  If  I  live  yet  a  week  you  fhall  have  more — if  not — Heaven  be  our  portion." 

"  Don't  you  defpife  me,"  he  writes  him  October  13.  1771,  "  for  my  cowardice  ?  It  was  no 
thing  elfe  kept  me  from  writing  to  you.  I  can  prefent  a  laughing  face  to  all  my  acquaintances,  and 
talk  with  my  ufual  indifference  about  any  thing  whatever;  but  when  I  think  of  you,  my  heart  fails 
me,  and  I  cannot  perftiade  myfelf  that  it  is  an  eafy  matter  to  bid  an  eternal  farewell  to  the  man  I 
tove.— But  I  begin  to  feel  rather  too  much  for  one  in  my  way,  and  defperate  as  my  cafe  is,  I  am  re- 
folved  to  give  ray  conftitution  fair  play,  at  leaft  for  a  few  weeks ;  fo  back  foolifh  tears  to  your 
hollow  fountains,  and  fince  ye  have  fhown  yourfelves  fo  very  forward  on  certain  fubjects,  1  will  be 
ware  of  you  for  the  future.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  am  day  by  day  approaching  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  perfection  of  leannefs,  a  ikeleton.  I  have  not  a  pair  of  flockings  that  will  clap  to  my  legs,  and  my 
breeches  ?re  become  the  very  picture  of  Captaia  Bobadil's.  A  kind  of  pale  yellow  has  taken  pof- 
feflion  of  the  hollow  of  my  cheeks,  which  have  by  a  natural  fympathy  fubfided  to  the  level  of  my 
eye-balls,— abfceffes,  I  am  told,  are  forming  or  already  formed  in  my  lungs.  I  don't  in  the  lead 
doubt  of  it.  I  feel  a  mortal  twang,  I  don't  know  what  to  call  it,  about  them.  But  be  that  as  it 
may,  I  am  refolved  to  die  fecundum  artem,  moft  methodically.  1  eat  new  milk  and  ftew'd  apples, 
ride  two  hours  and  a  half  every  day,  &e. — My  room  is  on  the  firft  floor  now.— 1  am  ufed  like  an 
only  fon. — I  am  under  great  obligations  to  the  whole  fajnily — Heaven  reward  them ;  I  mail  never  be 
ablej  Wh«n  will  I  fee  you  ?  Some  demon  tempts  me  to  add — never.  God  blefs  you,  and  prefervc 
you  for  the  noble  ufes  of  fociety,  for  which  I  was  never  defigned." 

His  decline,  though  flow  and  infidious,  gaining  a  little  ground  every  week,  he  faw  death  ap 
proaching,  with  his  ufual  calmnefs  and  refignation,  and  now  refolved  to  return  home,  to  receive 
thofe  attentions  wbich  his  increafing  weaknefs  required,  from  t^ie  anxiety  cf  parental  affection. 

He  left  Milton  about  the  latter  end  of  October,  and  for  fome  time  after  he  returned  to  Carnwath, 
made  his  daily  excuiGons,  and  in  December,  was  ftill  able  to  walk  a  few  miles ;  but  every  experi 
ment  of  this  kind  Was  followed  by  fatigue,  and  commonly  by  a  fit  of  fever  confiderably  ferere. 

From  this  time  to  his  death,  the  cough  and  night  fweats  continued  to  moleft  him ;  the  compli 
cated  diflrefs  of  which,  aggravated,  by  the  difcomforts  and  inconveniences  of  humble  life,  he  bore 
with  unexampled  dignity  and  compofure  of  mind.  Hope,  that  commonly  alleviates  the  fuflferings  of 
the  confumptive,  he  renounced  from  the  beginning  ;  which  at  his  years,  and  with  his  fenfibility, 
"the  fires  of  literary  ambition  juft  kindling,  and  his  wiflrc»  wrapt  in  the  trance  of  fame,  required  an 
uncommon  union  of  philofophy  and  religion. 

He  lingered  through  the  winter,  during  which  his  flrength  funi  fo  much  that  he  could  no  Ipngcr 
bear  riding  on  horfeback,  npr  walk  without  leaning  on  fomebody's  arm. 

In  this  ftate  of  helpleffnefs  and  decay,  he  found  fome  alleviation  of  his  fufferings,  in  the  familiar 
vifit*  of  Mr.  White,  and  in  the  kind  attentions  fhown  him  bf  his  friends,  Chriftie,  Scott,  Stodart, 
and  Somervilk,  who  frequently  fat  with  him,  and  touk  particular  plcafue  in  deviling  exptdients  to 
amufe  him. 

In  the  fpring,  he  cxercifed  his  poetical  talent,  for  the  lafl  time,  in  writing  a  complimentary  poem 
to  Major  White,  in  which  he  drew  the  characters  of  Mrs.  White  and  his  pupils,  in  tqftimony  of 
his  gratitude  for  the  friendihip  and  benevolence,  which  ferved  to  lefien  the  wants  and  to  footh  the 
feverity  of  his  illnefs. 

As  his  life  drew  towards  a  clofc,  his  weaknefs  increafed  by  degrees,  but  his  pains  abated  confider 
ably  ;  he  retained  his  compofure,  as  well  as  the  full  ufe  of  his  rational  faculties  to  the  laft.  Nor 
djd  his  wit  and  playful  humour  forfake  him,  till  he  was  no  longer  able  to  fmile,  or  even  to  fpeak. 
The  prefent  writer  almoft  conftantly  fat  by  him  during  the  three  laft  months  of  his  life.  He  ex 
pired  his  la£t  breath,  without  a  groan,  in  the  morning  of  the  a6th  of  July  1772,  in  the  aid  year  of 
tis  age.  His  lift;  was  vir:ootis  and  innocent,  and  brs  aid  pious  and  exemplary.  He  was  buried 

Pdij 


420  THE  LIFE   OF   GR^ME. 

in  the  church-yard  of  Carnwath,  without  a  ftone  to  mark  the  place  of  his  duft.  Hi*  father  died 
June  14.  1774,  and  his  mether,  December  6. 1788. 

In  the  moment  of  recent  grief  for  the  lofs  of  the  affociate  of  hi»  childhood,  his  bofom-friend, 
and  one  of  the  pleafanteft  and  moft  inftructive  companions  that  ever  man  was  delighted  with,  the 
prefent  writer  found  feme  confolation  in  the  prefervation  of  his  poetical  remains. 

The  collection  of  his  poems,  in  which  he  had  made  fome  progrefs  before  the  commencement  of 
his  illnefs,  was  completed  by  the  prefent  writer  before  his  death,  and  publifhed  foon  after,  accord 
ing  to  his  intended  plan,  in  one  volume  octavo,  under  the  title  of  Poems  on  Several  Qtcafuau,  by  James 
Crfmt,  Edinburgh  1773,  with  a  preface,  containing  a  fhort  account  of  his  character.  The  ex- 
pence  of  the  impreffion,  which  did  not  exceed  three  hundred  copies,  was  defrayed  by  a  fubfcription, 
promoted  by  Mr.  White,  and  his  literary  friends,  at  whofe  felicitation  it  was  undertaken,  and  to 
>vhom  its  diftribution  was  confined.  It  was  never  advertifed  for  fale.  The  profits  of  the  publica 
tion  were  given  to  Mr.  Walter  Somerville,  bookfeller  in  Lanark,  who  was  of  the  fame  village,  a 
fchool-fellow,  and  common  friend  ;  and  a  man  of  great  goodnefs  of  heart,  and  the  ftri&eft  rectitude 
bf  principle.  He  died  at  Lanark  in  1785. 

The  prefatory  advertifement  concludes  with  the  following  deprecatory  wifhes  for  the  temerity  of 
the  prefent  writer  in  giving  to  the  world,  the  incorrect  effufions  of  amorous  tendernefs,  and  the 
idle  Tallies  of  youthful  and  poetic  fancy. 

"  The  public  muft  decide,  whether  the  author  and  his  friend  have  acted  with  judgment  and  pro 
priety  in  the  prefent  publication.  It  is  only  hoped,  from  the  general  ftrain  of  the  pieces,  that  thi» 
collection  will  furnifh  no  unpleafing  entertainment  to  the  reader  of  fenfibility.  For  him  it  is  chiefly 
intended,  and"  to  him  it  is  now  infcribed,  in  the  fond  perfuafion,  that  he  will  regard  with  candour, 
and  cherifh  with  refpect,  the  fimple  effufions  of  fancy,  friendihip,  and  love." 

A  brief  account  of  his  life  and  writings,  drawn  up  by  the  prefent  writer,  was  printed  in  the 
11  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  17821,  and  has  fince  been  reprinted  in  the  I2th  volume  of  the  "  Ge 
neral  Biographical  Dictionary"  1784. 

His  poems,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1 773,  with  fome  corrections, and  additions,  are  now,  for  the 
firft  time,  received  into  a  collection  of  claffical  Englifh  poetry.  The  pieces  originally  furnifhed  by 
the  prefent  writer,  he  has  been  prevailed  with  to  preferve  in  this  edition,  though  they  have  no 
pretenfions  to  be  retained,  but  the  partiality  of  his  friend  to  what  he  had  attempted  in  verfe,  and  the 
propriety  of  uniting  compofitions  that  have  a  perfonal,  poetical,  and  fentimental  relation,  in  the  fame 
publication.  As  he  is  to  anfwer  for  them  to  the  world,  in  juflice  to  his  friend,  he  has  prefixed  his 
name  to  them,  though  they  might  be  eafily  diftinguifhed  by  the  diverfuy  of  fubject,  and  manner, 
and  added  foine  pieces,  written  fince  his  death,  containing,  either  directly  or  incidentally,  his  tribute 
of  fentiment  to  his  memory ;  for  which  he  flatters  himfelf  that  he  fhall  be  excufed  by  thofe  who 
value  talents,  and  honour  goodnefs.  Of  the  chara<5ler  of  a  poet  he  deems  too  highly  to  plead  a 
title  to  it  before  the  impartial  tribunal  of  the  public ;  which  allows  no  mediocrity  in  poetry.  What 
ever  is  capable  of  delighting  in  an  extreme  degree,  cannot  with  impunity  fall  fhort  of  the  effect  ex 
pected  from  it.  But  his  failing  to  produce  what  he  is  fuppofed  to  promife,  is  not  o%ving  to  a  miflakc 
of  his  powers.  Though  the  transition  is  eafy,  from  admiring  poetical  beauties,  to  believing  ourfelves 
capable  of  producing  fimilar  excellencies ;  yet  the  affociation  of  youthful  fludy,  and  the  afpirations 
of  juvenile  ambition,  never  led  him  to  .miftake  the  talent  of  writing  fmooth  verfes  for  poetical 
genius,  or  the  vapid  infipidity  of  rhyme  for  the  genuine  fire  of  poetry.  The  making  and  mending 
verfes  is  not  the  bufmels  of  his  life.  Amidft  the  feverer  fludies,  and  laborious  duties  of  a  learned 
and  ufeful  profeflion,  he  cherifhes  the  love  of  poetry  and  the  liberal  arts ;  without  any  ambition  of 
being  diftinguifhed  as  a  "  two-fold  difcijile  of  Apollo." 

His  character  may  eafily  be  collected  from  this  account  of  his  life.  A  few  of  his  peculiarities  re 
main  to  be  mentioned.  His  perfon  was  manly  and  prepoffeffing.  His  eye  was  lively  and  penetrat 
ing.  His  features  were  pleafing  and  expreffive,  his  geftures  animated,  and  all  his  movements  and 
expreffions  were  marked  by  extraordinary  energy  and  vivacity.  In  the  fortune  of  his  life  and  the 
fate  of  his  writings,  he  refembles  Bruce  ;  and,  like  him,  he  was  equally  amiable  and  ino-enious. 
His  mind  was  capacious,  his  curiofity  excurfive,  and  his  induftry  indefatigable.  He  united  acutenefs 
ef  intellect  with  good  fcnfe,  and  feniibiluy  of  heart  with  cerreftnefj  pf  tafte  a«d  critical  fagacity. 


THE   LIFE   OF   GR^ffiME.  4U 

Though  ftudimis  and  learned,  he  was  neither  auftere  nor  formal.     In  him  the  uricteft  piety  and  mo- 
clefty  were  united  with  the  utmoft  cheerfulnefs,  and  even  playfulnefs  of  difpoGtion.     He  had,  what 
perhaps  all  people  of  obfervation  have,  a  flight  tendency  to  fotire ;  but  it  was  of  the  gcntlcft  kind. 
He  had  too  much  candour  and  good-nature  to  be  either  a  general  fatitift,  or  a  fcvere  one.     Of 
pc-rfons  notoriouily  profligate,  or  rendered  impudent  by  immorality,  breach  of  public  truft,  or  ig 
norance,  he  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  what  he  thought.     The  flighted  appearance  of  immorality, 
vanity,  pedantry,  coarfe  manners,  or  bUmeable  levity  diigufled  him.     Like  other  votaries  of  the 
mufes,  he  was  paffionately  fond  of  rural  fcenery,  and  delighted  in  walking  alone  in  the  fields.     By 
the  villagers,  to  whom  he  was  little  known,  his  love  of  folitude  was  miftaken  for  an  unfocial  difpofi- 
tion.     The  reyerfe  was  his  character.     He  was  focial,   ckeerful,   and  affectionate,  and  by  thofe 
friends  who  thoroughly  knew  him,  beloved  even  to  enthufiafm.     He  practifed  every  manly  exercifc 
with  dexterity,  participated  in  the  amufements  becoming  his  age,  and  particulary  excelled  in  the 
games  of  chefs  and  backgammon  ;  but  to  games  of  chance  he  had  rather  a  difinclination.     In  every 
thing  he  purfued  he  was  indefatigable  in  aiming  at  perfection.    The  lowlinefs  of  his  lot  confpired 
Avith  the  fimplichy  of  his  heart,  to  poflefs  him  with  an  early  veneration  for  the  virtues  and   the 
writings  of  the  primitive  ages ;   and  the  nature  of  his  ftudies  afforded  him  the  befl  opportunities  to 
heighten  and  confirm  that  veneration,  by   enabling  him  to    converfe  familiarly   with    the   mofk 
celebrated  writers  of  Greece  and  Rome.     He  read  their  remains  with  ardour,  and  imbibed  their 
fentiments  with  enthufiafm  ;  on  them  he  formed  his  tafte  and  improved  his  heart.     In  his  admira 
tion  of  Grecian  and  Roman  liberty,  he  founded  his  ardent  love  of  political  freedom,  and  his  peculiar 
attachment  to  the  popular  part  of  our  conftitution.     He  found   the  principles  of  good  writing  in 
Homer,  Xenophon,  Herodotus,  Cxfar,  and  others  who  are  diilinguiihed  by  a  fevere  and  majeftic 
fimplicity  of  ftyle.     But  he  was  charmed  above  all  others  with  the  humane  writers  of  the  elegiac 
clafs.     The  wit  of  Ovid  and  the  learning  of  Propertius  were  the  qualities  he  leaft  admire^  ;  but  the 
tender  fimplicity  of  Tibullus  affected  him  with  the  livclieft  delight,   as  it  was  moft  congenial  to 
the  gentlenefs  of  his  difpofition,  and  exhibited  the  pureft  model  of  elegiac  poetry.     Time  was  not 
allowed  him  for  going  deep  into  French,  Italian,  and  German  literature  ;  but  he  had  read  die  btil 
authors  in  thefe  languages,  in  Englifh  verfions. 

From  the  gentlenefs  of  his  difpo£tion,  the  elegance  of  his  fancy,  and  the  claffical  finipHcity  of  1m 
tafte,  the  ftyle  of  his  poetry  took  its  character,  which  has  more  tendernefs  than  fublimity,  more 
elegance  than  dignity,  more  eafe  than  force.  Prompted  generally  by  incident,  and  impatient  of 
defign,  he.  wrote  with  more  happinefs  than  care.  But  all  his  compofitions  arc  diflinguiftied  by 
marks  of  genius  and  poetical  feeling,  with  numbers  animated  and  varied  according  to  the  fubjcct. 
His  thoughts  are  often  ftriking,  and  always  juft.  His  verfification,  though  not  exquifitely  polifhed, 
is  commonly  flowing  and  harmonious.  His  language  is,  in  general,  chafte,  correct,  and  well  adapt 
ed  ;  in  elegy  frugal  of  epithet  and  metaphor ;  in  blank  verfe  and  burlefque  heroic,  fwelling  and 
pompous,  but  not  ftiffor  obfcure.  In  fome  paffages,  he  has  not  been  fo  careful  as' might  "have  been 
vviflied  to  choofe  perfect  rhymes,  or  to  avoid  profaic  diction.  All  his  pieces  were  written  with  fur- 
prifing  facility ;  moft  of  them,  as  occafion  fuggefted,  being  the  production  of  an  evening  in  bed, 
before  he  went  to  fleep,  and,  as  his  cuftom  was,  committed  to  any  fcrap  of  paper,  or  blank'  leaf 
of  a  book  that  came  jn  his  way  in  the  morning.  As  thefe  fcraps  received  the  firft  effufion  of  thought, 
unfubdued  by  the  reiterated  caftigation  of  judgment,  fo  they  commonly  remained,  for  he  feldom 
could  be  brought  to  fubmit  to  the  trouble  of  reviling  them.  His  laft  production  Was  always  his  fa 
vourite  ;  but  it  continued  to  pleafc  him  no  longer  than  it  was  new.  The  piece  that  dropped  from 
hi§  pen  in  the  morning,  after  having  been  prefented  with  eagernefs,  and  read  wi£li  tranfport  to  the 
prefect  writer,  was  forgotten  in  the  returning  meditation  of  the  evening,  like  the  production  of  the 
preceding  day.  Of  the  incredible  number  of  pieces  he  compofcd,  the  printed  collection  contains 
only  thirty-eight  elegies,  and  fomewhat  more  than  half  that  number  of  mifcellaneous  poems  and  tran- 
flations ;  being  all  he  defigned  for  publication,  or  «f  which  any  complete  copies  have  been  preferved. 
His  Love  Elegies,  the  moft  finifhed  and  the  moft  pleafmg  of  his  performances,  are  moftly  written 
in  alternate  rhyme,  in  the  ftyle  of  Hammond,  whofe  fimplicity  and  tendernefs  he  has  judicioufly 
imitated,  without'  adopting  his  Roman  imagery  derived  from  Tibullus,  whom  for  the  moft  part  he 
Jranflates.  But  us  love  is  of  no  particular  country,  and  its  language  univerfal,  he  confefles  in  hii  ai* 

Pdiij 


4t*  THE   LIFE   OF  GRAEME. 

miration  of  Hammond,  the  fympathctic  feelings  of  paflion  and  of  nature,  fo  forcibly  cxpreffed  in  his 
elegies ;  a  confeffion  common  to  every  reader  of  fenfibility,  whofe  fcntiments  have  not  been  corrupt 
ed  by  literary  prejudice,  or  perverted  by  the  unmerited  cenfure  of  Dr.  Johnfon.  Sincere  in  his  love, 
almoft  without  example,  he  wrpte  to  a  real  not  a  fancied  miflrcfs ;  and  as  he  felt  the  diftrefs  he  de- 
fcribes,  he  has  few  ambitious  ornaments,  but  exprefles  the  fimple  unaffected  language  of  the  tender 
paflions.  To  his  fincerity  it  is  alfo  owing,  that  the  character  of  his  elegies  is  but  little  diverfified, 
prefenting  chiefly  a  recurrence  of  the  querulous  ideas  of  grief  and  difappointment,  a  repetition  of 
the  foft  diftrefs  of  ill-requited  love,  and  a  feries  of  pathetic  companions  of  the  pretenfions  of  birth 
and  wealth,  with  the  happinefs  and  fecurity  of  humble  fortune,  in  which  the  preference  is  conflantly 
afcribed  to  the  latter,  and  the  right*  of  fenfibility  aflerted  with  perfnafive  energy. 

Sublimcr  happinefs  can  titles  yield, 

Can  wealth  or  grandeur  greater  meed  beflow  ? 
Unbiafs'd  nature  icorns  the  blazon'd  field, 

And  every  finer  feeling  anfweis,  No  ! 

Of  his  Elegies,  msralandrirfcripti-je,  the  fentiments,  in  general,  are  pleafingand  pathetic,  and  the  imagery 
picturefque  and  betfutiful.  The  Elegy  en  the  loft  of  tbe  Aurora,  the  elegy  written  at  Cutbally  Co/lie,  Oftobcr 
an  Elegy,  and  the  elegy  on  Mr.  Ft/her,  deferve  particular  commendation.  They  unite  poetical  beauty 
•with  that  plaintive  tendernefs  which  is  the  characteriflic  of  elegy.  The  amiable  humanity,  and 
tender  firr.plieity  which  diilinguifh  the  Linnet  an  Elegy,  are  attractive  and  affecting  in  the  higheft 
degree.  Though  the  palm  of  merit  in  this  fpecies  of  elegy  be  chiefly  due  to  Jago,  he  has  not  adopt 
ed  into  his  performance  the  identical  circumltances  of  fictitious  diftrefs  employed  by  that  poet,  in 
hi?  "  Blackbirds,"  nor  followed  him  in  the  train  of  his  thoughts,  or  in  the  ftructure  of  his  ftanza. 
The  fentiments  aiife  fpcritaneoufly  from  the  fubje<ft,  which  is  new  and  happily  imagined,  and  the 
pathetic  touches  and  delicate  ftrokes  of  nature  are  fuch  as  would  not  difcredit  the  pen  of  the  hu 
mane  and  ingenious  "  poet  of  the  birds."  They,  who  may  think  the  fupplemental  flanza,  offered 
by  the  prefent  writer,  unnecefiary,  are  at  liberty  to  reject  it ;  as  well  as  the  pieces  of  the  fame  clafs, 
under  his  name,  the  comparative  inferiority  of  which  cannot  efcape  obfervation.  For  the  fenti- 
jncnts,  he  flatters  himfelf  that  he  fhall  find  an  eafy  pardon.  Sylvia  and  Clara  were  not  the  phan 
toms  of  his  mind ;  but  his  life  has  been  protracted  till  they  have  funk  into  their  graves,  and  his  pity 
and  his  praife  are  but  empty  founds. 

Of  his  MiJcelLntous  Poems,  the  Nigbt  Piece,  Hymn  to  the  Eternal  Mind,  Fit  of  tie  Spleen,  Air  a, 
tie  Student,  Altx'n,  'Verfes  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  Major  Wlritc,  are  chiefly  diftinguifhed  for  felicity 
•f  invention,  ferioufnefs  of  fubject,  and  flrength  and  elegance  of  conipofition.  The  poem  on  Curling, 
a  winter  amufement  peculiar  to  North  Britain,  abounds  with  picturefque  defcription  and  original 
imagery.  But  the  fubject  being  local  and  little  known,  the  didactic  and  technical  allufions,  which 
arc  numerous,  can  only  be  underftood  by  thofe  who  are  acquainted  with  the  manly  diverfion  of 
furling.  Kis  Epiflles,  Songs,  Anacreontics,  &c.  difplay  invention,  and  no  fmall  portion  of  that  cafe, 
vivacity,  and  delicacy,  efleutial  to  fuccefs,  in  the  lighter  and  lefs  elevated  produdtions  of  fancy. 

His  Hire  and  Leander  is  for  the  moft  part  a  tranilation  from  the  Greek  poem  of  Mufeus.  Several 
paflages  in  the  original  are  omitted ;  others  paraphrafed,  and  fome  entire  fpeeches  and  new  cir- 
cumfhnices  introduced.  Following,  in  fome  meafure,  a  new  plan,  he  laboured  under  feveral  dif- 
advantages,  of  whfch,  in  juftice  to  himfelf,  he  gives  the  following  account,  in  a  familiar  dedication  to 
the  prefent  writer,^  omitted  in  this  edition.  «'  Ovid  is  far  from  being  explicit.  Had  I  known  at 
•what  time  the  layers  lived,  t  might  have  introduced  fpme  of  the  public  tranfactions  of  that  period 
into  the  poem,  and  given  it  a  greater  air  of  probability.  But  all  I  could  learn  from  him  was,  that 
they  lived  after  the  Trojan  wa.r.  Perhaps  my  account  of  the  matter  may  fcarce  appear  an  ingenious 
one,  but  I  could,pofitivcly  give  no  better  without  running  into  novel  intrigue,  which  the  dignity  of 
my  numbers  would  not  allow.  Even  where  Ovid  is  explicit,  I  did  pqt  always  find  it  convenient  to 
follow  him.  Ovid  has  the  Nurf,  in  the  fecret.  I,  out  of  pure  regard  to  Hero's  tranquillity,  have 
^iven  her  no  knowledge  of  the  matter.  Ovid  makes  Leander,  at  the  approach  of  winter,  intermit 
his  vifits,  which  was  abfolutely  neceffary  to  his  plan  of  epiftolary  correfpondence.  I  had  no  fuch 
view,  and  therefore  drowned  him  in  the  firft  florm  I  could  conveniently  raife. — The  reafons  I 
give  for  the  cotafrofbc,  or  in  other  "words,  the  moral  of  the  poem,  may  probably  awa£e  a  laugh  in  a 


THE   LIFE   OF   GR^MF.  453 

modern  fine  gentleman,  but  if  you  don't  join  him  in  it,  a  fine  gentleman's  laugh  won't  put  me  out 
of  countenance."  His  vcilion  is  in  many  parts  happily  executed,  but  is  extremely  unequal;  the 
metre  was,  perhaps,  injudicioufly  chofen,  for  a  tale  fo  romantic  in  itfelf,  fweiling  with  all  the  pomp 
«f  blank  verfe,  is  apt  to  grow  into  the  idea  of  burlefque.  But  an  eafy  flow  of  numbers,  and  a 
pleating  harmony  of  cxpreflion,  make  considerable  imends  for  the  diffufion  which  this  occations. 
Some  of  the  fpeeches  are  exquilitely  delicate  and  lender,  and  the  defcription  which  opens  the  fe- 
cond  book,  is  animated  and  poetical  in  an  uncommon  degree.  The  moral  of  the  poem,  contains  a 
fine  eulogium  on  conjugal  love,  which  does  honour  to  his  fcnfibility  and  his  virtue. 

This  celebrated  love-tale  is  not  the  production  of  Mvfeuf  of  high  antiquity,  but  of  a  grammarian 
of  that  name  who  lived  in  the  jth  century.  It  was  partly  tranflated  by  Marlow,  in  his  admirable 
performance  entitled  "  the  Sefliad,1'  1593,  which  was  fmifhed  by  Chapman,  1606,  and  highly 
merits  republication.  It  was  afterwards  tranflated  by  Sir  Robert  Stapylton,  1647.  The  fubfequent 
verfions  are  too  numerous  to  be  fpecified. 

To  expatiate  farther,  in  the  ftrain  of  friendly  panegyric,  on  the  moral  and  intellectual  character 
of  Gjrcrue  would  be  neither  difficult  nor  unpleafing. 


-Juvat  ufque  morari 


Et  conferre  gradum- 

rirg.  V.  487. 

But  to  accumulate  yet  more  inftances,  of  his  amiable  worth  and  poetical  genius,  would 
extend  this  preface  to  an  undue  length.  The  prefent  writer  is  loth  to  part  with  his  fub- 
ject ;  which,  there  are  a  few  who  know,  is  by  no  means  exhaufted.  To  Grasme,  and  to  evqr f 
thing  connected  with  him,  he  acknowledges  he  is  partial;  and  they  who  have  experienced  the  lofs 
of  a  beloved  friend,  will  not  think  the  worfe  of  him  for  having  thi*  infirmity.  He  can  gain,  alas! 
but  little  from  his  praife ;  but  in  ftating  his  pretenfions,  and  eftimating  his  worth,  he  finds  a  pleating, 
though  a  melancholy  fubjcfjt  of  remembrance.  His  mind  is  painfully  ibothiid  by  a  tender  recurrence 
to  thofe  events  which  helped  to  fill  up  the  vacuum  of  youthful  ftudies  and  amulements,  by  the 
reciprocal  exchanges  of  confidence  and  friendfhip.  To  him,  his  memory  and  his  fame  will  be  ever 
dear  and  precious,  till  his  own  remembrance,  and  other  faculties,  fliall  fail  him, 

"  And  o'er  his  heai  clofe  the  dark  gulf  of  time  !" 

Froffi  the  general  commendation  beftowed,  by  the  partiality  of  friendship,  on  the-compofitions  of 
Graeme,  particular  criticifm  may  make  many  deductions.  Many  of  his  performances,  written  haftily, 
at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  of  which  his  promifcuous  ftudies  and  early  death  had  prevented  the  revi- 
Cal,  can  fcarcely  b»  infgected  with  all  the  feverity  of  criticifm  ;  and  there  is  no  reafon  to  fear  that  it 
will  ever  be  exerted  againit  them.  But,  when  every  deduction  is  made  which  criticifm  requires,  ths. 
general  poetical  merit  of  his  competitions  will  be  allowed  to  be  confiderably  above  mediocrity. 
That  he  had  great  force  of  genius,  and  genuine  poetical  feeling,  cannot  juflly  be  denied  ;  and  ther^ 
are  fcarce  any  of  his  performances  that  do  not  difplay  a  tendernefs  of  fentiment,  an  energy  of  ex- 
preflion,  a  vivacity  of  defcription,  and  an  appetite  variety  of  numbers,  which  evince  the  vigour  of 
his  imagination,  and  the  accuracy  of  his  tafte,  and  reflect  much  honour  both  on  his  heart  and  hi*, 
understanding.  , 

Whatever  rank  may  be  due  to  Graeme,  among  the  poets  of  our  nation,  his  correcSrnefs  of  tafte» 
variety  of  erudition,  vivacity  of  imagination,  tendernefs  of  fentiment,  felicity  of  invention,  and  faci 
lity  in  numbers,  will  be  allowed  to  afford  indications  of  a  poetical  genius,  which,  -when  matured  by 
years,  and  improved  by  practice,  might  have  produced  fomething  confiderable,  and  to  furnifh  an 
example  of  unnoticed  ingenuity  afpiring  to  literature  and  to  poetry  under  the  prefluit:  wf  indigence, 
fufficiently  interefting  to  learning  and  to  benevolence,  to  juftify  the  bringing  his  competitions  for 
ward  to  the  attention  of  the  readers  of  poetry,  which  may  be  themcansof.doingjuftice  to  hjs  merit, 
und  of  prcferving  his  memory. 

His  faltem  accumulem  dpnis,  et  fungar  inani 
Munerf    '  "< 

rirg,  vi.  815. 

Ddiiij 


THE  WORKS  OF  GRMME. 

ELEGIES; 
MORAL,   DESCRIPTIVE,  AND  AMATORY. 


ELEGY  I. 

WRITTEN  IN  SPRING. 

THE  tuneful  lark  awakes  the  purple  morn, 
Returning  plovers  glad  the  dreary  wafte ; 

The  trees  no  more  their  ravifh'd  honours  mourn, 
No  longer  bend  below  the  wint'ry  blaft. 

The  Spring  o'er  all  her  genial  influence  fhed», 
Her  fmelly  fragrance  fcents  the  balmy  breeze  ; 

Her  op'ning  bloffoms  purple  o'er  the  meads, 
Her  vivid  verdure  veils  the  robbed  trees. 

The  airy  cliff  refounds  the  fhepherd's  lay, 

Within  it'sbartks  the  murm'ring  ftream'let  flows ; 

Around  their  dams  the  fportive  lambkins  play, 
And  from  the  ftall  the  vacant  heifer  lows. 

The  voice  of  mufic  warbles  from  the  wood, 
Delightful  objedls  crowd  fhe  fmiling  fcene  J 

AH  nature  fhares  the  univerfal  good, 

And  cold  defpair  exalts  no  bread  but  mine. 

Difmal  to  me  appears  the  bloomy  vale, , 

The  haunts  of  pleafure  fadden  at  my  tread ; 

Unheard,  unnoted,  vernal  zephyrs  fail 

The  flow'ry  wafte,  and  bend  the  quiv'ring  reed. 

No  more,  enraptur'd  with  fuccefsful  love, 
I  fit  my  numbers  to  the  tuneful  firing ; 

No  more  pourtray  the  verdure  of  the  grove, 
Or  hear  the  voice  of  incenfe-breathing  Spring. 

The  torrents,  whiten'd  with  defcending  rain, 
The  wave-worn  windings  of  the  wand'ring  rill, 

The  flow'ry  flufh  thatliv'ries  all  the  plain, 
The  blue-gray  mill  that  hovers  o'er  the  hill ; 

1  fing  no  more  :— But  ravifli'd  from  the  maid 
Who  kindly  liften'd  to  my  faithful  fighs, 

I,  inly  grieving,  droop  the  penfive  head, 
And  mourn  tie  blifs  relentlefs  fate  denies, 

ELEGY  II. 

TO  MIRA. 

THE  cottage-fwains,  how  exquifitely  bleft 
With  fun-burnt  virgins  in  the-prime  of  years ! 

/rV  figh  obtains  the  faireft  and  the  beft ; 
4&-t  jnoft,  the  pleading  eloquence  of  tears. 


No  ftubborn  honour  parts  the  willing  pair ; 

No  maiden  barters  happinefs  for  fame  ; 
No  prideful  demon  whifpers  in  her  ear, 

The  long  fucceffion  of  a  titled  name. 

O,  had  a.  turf-built  hamlet's  humble  roof, 
A  (hot-clad  rafter  caught  your  earlieft  view  ! 

Or,  fternly  rigid,  fortune  fcowl'd  aloof, 
Nor  ftampt  with  dignity  a  parent's  brow  I 

Or  had  I  (l»ve  demands  the  lowly  boon) 
Grown  to  maturity  in  fplendor's  ray  ! 

In  folly's  tinfel  tatters  tript  the  town, 
The  pride  of  fops,  and  glitter  of  a  day  I 

Had  treafur'd  gold  improv'd  my  native  worth, 
Inglorious  robb'd  from  Afric's  ebon  fons; 

A  rnin'd  caftle  claim'd  a  father's  birth, 

Where  jack-daws  neftle,  and  the  howlet  moans! 

But  money'd  merit,  and  paternal  fame, 
The  gods  to  poor  Alexis  never  meant : 

He  lives  unftory'd  ;  loft,  alas !  to  him, 
The  herald's  blazon  and  the  painter's  tint. 

A  foul  unfully'd  by  the  third  of  gain, 

A  bofons  rifing  at  another's  woe, 
He  boafts  no  more  ; — his  cottage  bounds  the  plain, 

Where  wild  woods  thicken,  and  where  wateri 
flow. 

A  manfion  not  unworthy  of  the  fair: 
Why  blufhes  Mira  at  the  fimple  tale  ? 

Can  all  the  pomp  of  dirty  cities  dare 

Vie  with  the  fragrance  of  the  vernal  vale  ? 

But,  nurs'd  amid  the  formulas  of  pride, 

You  want  the  heart  to  own  the  man  you  love, 

Walk  with  feign'd  pleafure  by  the  fopling's  fide. 
And  praife  the  nonfenfe  which  you  difapprovg. 

The  very  vale,  you  tread  with  willing  feet, 
You  feem  to  fcorn,  and  wantonly  prefer, 

The  dull  rotation  of  a  crowded  ftreet, 
A  fhrill-pip'd  actrefs,  and  a  dancing  bear. 

Farewell,  dear  maid  !  fome  happier  youth  poflefs 
The  blooming  beauties  ne'er  defign'd  for  me  j 

May  fruitful  Hymen  yield  him  every  blifs, 
And  every  joy  I,  baplefs !  hop'd  in  thee. 


4*6- 


THE   WORKS   OF 


But,  O,  may  none,  invidious  of  your  mirth, 
Name  lolt  Alexis  on  the  biidal  day  ! 

For,  could  you,  Mira,  though  obfcure  his  birth, 
Unpitying  hear,  a  lifelefs  corfe  he  lay  ? 

ELEGY  III. 

TO  MIRA. 

PRESENTS  may  buy  Belinda's  venal  kifs, 
And  venal  kifies  charm  the  tafteleis  tribe  ; 

My  delicacy  calls  for  cheaper  blifs, 

And  patriot  diftance  fcorns  a  paltry  bribe. 

The  hill,  that  midway  rears  its  lorldly  brow, 
The  torrent,  headlong  from  its  boibm  roll'd  ; 

A  gift,  with  recklefs  eye,  like  Cclia,  view, 
And  frown,  forbidding,  on  the  profter'd  gold. 

Colin  may  con  with  care  the  flatt'ring  lay, 
With  blufhing  rotes  vermile  Trulla's  cheek; 

Bid  unheaven'd  graces  on  her  boibm  play, 
And  paint  a  goddefs— for  the  girl  is  weak. 

But  other,  Mira  '.  were  Alexis'  drains ; 

No   heav'n-bred   virgin   ftuff'd    his   dreaming 

head; 
Thy  beauties,  fuch  as  daily  haunt  our  plain*, 

He  fung — the  graces  of  a  mortal  maid. 

Whenlonefome  with  thee  in  the  filent  hour, 
He  hail'd  no  goddefs, — but  a  girl  etnbrac'd} 

Proftrated  low,  ador'd  no  heav'nly  pow'r, 
But  clung  transported  to  thy  maiden  waift. 

And  mould  fhe  gods  reftore  thee  to  my  arms, 
No  fult'ome  flatt'r'y  ihould  exalt  my  phrat'e  ; 

No  epithetic  nonfenfe  daub  thy  charms, 

Good  fenfe  thy  beauty,  conftancy  thy  praife> 

But  vain  the  thought — I'll  never  fee  thee  more ; 

The  gods  decree  it,  and  the  gods  are  jufts 
For  ever  doom'd  thy  abfence  to  deplore, 

Till  grief,  flow-lapping,  crumble  me  to  duft. 

ELEGY  IV. 

NIGHT,  raven-wing'd,  ufurps  her  peaceful  reign, 
Sleep's  lenient  baltam  (tills  the  voice  of  woe  ; 

A  keener  breeze  breathes  o'er  the  lowly  plain, 
And  pebbly  rills  in  deeper  murmurs  rlow. 

The  paly  moon  through  yonder  dreary  grove, 
The  fcreech-owl's  haunt,  emits  a.  feeble  ray  ; 

The  plumy  warblers  quit  the  fong  af  love, 
And  dangle,  llumb'ring,  on  the  dewy  fpray. 

The  maftifF,  confciousof  the  lover's  tread, 
With  wakeful  yell  the  lift'uing  maid  alarms, 

Who,  loofely  robb'd,  forfakes  the  downy  bed, 
And  fprings  refervelefs  to  his  longing  arms. 

O,  happy  he  !  who,  with  the  maid  he  lopes, 
Thus  toys  endearing  on  the  twilight  gretn, 

While  all  is  rapture,  Cupid's  felf  approves, 
And  Jove  confenting  veils  the  tender  fcene. 

O,  happy  he  !  by  gracious  fate  allow'd, 
At  duflty  eve,  to  clafp  the  fleiider  waift, 

Prefs  the  foft  lip,  diftblve  the  filky  fhroud, 
And  feel  the  heavings  of  a  love-lick  breaft. 


Once  mine  the   blifs :— But  now  with  plaintive 

care 

I,  lonely  wand'ring,  tune  the  voice  of  woe  ; 
And,  patient,  brave  the  chilly  midnight  air, 
Where  wild  woods  thicken,  and  where  waterr 
flow. 

ELEGY  V. 

WITHIN  this  willow-woven  bower 

I'll  lay  my  limbs  to  reft ; 
And  breathe  the  fragrance  of  the  mead, 

In  orient  colours  drelt. 

Sacred  to  grief,  hail,  hallowed  fpet '. 

Here,  long  inur'd  to  woe, 
Alexis  tun'd  the  plaintive  reed, 

By  Medwair's  mazy  flow. 

Reclining  on  this  very  fod, 

Whik  ferrow  dimm'd  his  eyes. 
He  rais'd  his  fuppliant  hatids  in  vain ! 

Relentleis  were  the  Ikiei. 

O,  cruel,  to  refufe  his  boon  '. 

How  little  did  he  crave  i 
'Twas  but  the  cov'ring  of  a  turf, 

Th'  oblivion  of  a  grave. 

And  ftill  more  cruel,  to  exile 

The  lucklels  lover  fo  ! 
To  drive  him  from  the  lovely  haunts 

Of  folitary  woe. 

'Here,  memory  of  former  days 

Would  cheer  the  mufing  boy  ; 
Aftd  o'er  his  melancholy  fpread 

A  tranfient  gleam  of  joy. 

But  the  wild  hufi'y  of  a  town 

Recals  no  blifsful  fc?ne  ; 
Starves  fond  remembrance,  and  affords 

No  leifure  to  complain. 

The  willows  wav'd,  by  wantdn  winds, 

Still  lhade  thy  fedgy  more ; 
But  rueful,  Medwan  !  are  thy  banks, 

Thy  mufes  mourrt  no  more. 

On  yonder  poplar's  topmoft  bough, 

Their  airy  harps  are  hung  ; 
And  filence  mufes  on  the  mead,. 

Where  midnight  fairies  fung. 

ELEGY  VI. 

THE     SUICIDE. 

YES)  gentle  ghoft  !  I  hear  the  folemn  founS, 
That  nightly  roufes  to  the  fcene  of  woe  ; 

I  fee  the  lhade  that  beckons  to  thy  wound, 
While  o'er  thy  grave  the  teary  torrents  flow. 

Though  fcreams  the  howlet  from  the  dreary  glade, 
And  croaks  the  raven  from  her  bough-built  neft ; 

I'll  bow  me  lowly  o'er  thy  clay-cold  bed. 
And  bid  the  turf  lie  lightly  on  thy  breaft. 

Here  ly'ft  thou,  haplefs !  (let  me  wipe  this  tear). 
Where  flawly  creeping  deals  tbe  filent  wave ; 

No  pious  parent  deck'd  thy  early  biert 
No  znardtfn  willows  wither'd  on  thy  grave. 


•> 


ELEGIES. 


In  drear  .proceffion  went  no  friendly  train 
Solemnly  lad,  or  bade  thy  fpirit  reft  ; 

But,  hurrying  on,  a  noify  crew  profane  . 

The  cJarfe  green  turf  threw  carelefs  on  thy 
breaft. 

Ghaftly  magnificent,  no  fculptur'd  tomb, 
Inbufto'd  grandeur,  courts  the  diftant  fky  ; 

No  veiny  marble  emulates  thy  bloom, 
No  mournful  lay  bedews  the  paflingeye. 

But  lowly,  Lucy  !  lies  thy  lovely  frame  ; 

The  duft  enclafps  thee  in  a  cold  embrace  ; 
Breeze-chaft~'d  beiide  th«e  mourns  a  falling  Itream, 

And  o'er  thee  lonefome  waves  the  dark-green 
grafs. 

Why  bare  thy  bofom,  ting'd  with  vital  gore  '. 

Point  to  thy  wound  ? — I  haften,  gentle  (bade — 
Defpair  invites— 1  learn  her  fatal  lore — 

With  defp'rate  hand  thus  urge  the  gleamy 
blade. 

Some  woodland  bard  (hall  mourn  our  early  doom, 
Soft  o'er  our  grave  awake  the  plaintive  ftrain  ; 

Shall  flit  the  meteor  round  our  humble  tomb, 
And  fcreaming  goblins  haunt  the  bloody  plain. 

Shall  tell  the  fliepherds,  on  this  verdant  fwathe, 

A  difmal  ftory  ef  a  lucklefs  pair  ; 
Whom,  brought  untimely  to  a  violent  death, 

A  miftrefs  buried,  and  a  fire  levere. 


ELEGY  VII. 

A  TLEETING  life  of  pain,  is  man's 

Inevitable  lot ; 
To-day  is  privy  to  our  woe, 

To-morrow  know*  us  not. 

Fate  bids  a  fnaky  wreath  of  care 
Entwine  the  vital  thread  ; 

And  feel  alike  its  baneful  pow'r, 
The  death  and  bridal  bed. 

Hope  gilds  in  vain  the  future  hour 
With  blifs  of  ev'ry  kind ; 

The  wifliful  period  waftes  away 
But  blifs  we  never  find. 

In  vain  we  ftrive  to  eafe  the  fmart, 

And  meditate  repofe ; 
In  vain  affume  the  face  of  joy, 

The  mafk  of  human  woes. 

Who  warring  with  a  fea  of  ills, 
Some  weary  days  have  patt, 

Will  ever  find  the  future  day 
An  image  of  the  laft. 

Till  death,  no  more  a  tyrant,  fpeed 

The  amicable  blow, 
Shut  the  fad  fcene  of  mortal  life, 

And  terminate  their  woe. 

O,  happy  he  !  above  his  peers, 
The  favourite  of  Heav'n, 

To  whom  a  certain  place  of  reft, 
Aji  early  grave  is  given. 


vJor  falling  tear,  nor  /welling  figh. 

That  mourn  an  abfent  maid, 
Tormenting  fears,  nor  willies  vain, 

Afflict  his  peaceful  filade. 

rn  fure  oblivion  of  his  woes, 

He  moulders  into  duft ; 
pring's  roles  wither  on  his  grave 
And  cheer  his  hov'riug  gholt. 

ELEGY  VIII. 

TO  ALEXIS. 
BV  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

WHEN  rofe-lip'd  Health  reveals  her  vivid  bloom, 
And   Youth  and   Genius  all  their  charms  nu . 
part ; 

Why  wears  the  face  the  difcontented  gloom  ? 
Why,  fadly  fighing,  heaves  the  penlive  heart  ? 

Can  weeping  melancholy's  frantic  train, 

The  brow  deep-fadden'd,  and  the  tear-fwoln 
eye, 

Invade  the  vernal  hour  with  plaint  profane, 
And  pleafure,  peace,  and  lettered  fame  lupply  ? 

Miftaken  friend  ! — it  cannot,  will  not  do; 

Muling  ami  fad,  to  murmur  all  alone  '. 
'Tis  tearful  fancy  guides  your  trembling.  view, 

Ami  from  your    bofoni   burfts  th'  unmeaning 
moan. 

What  though  you  meet  with  fortune's  frowning1 
form, 

Pale  envy's  rage,  and  pafllon's  ftormy  pow'r  ? 
See  flan Jer's  fons  your  faireit  deeds  deform, 

And  dark  fufpicion  lhade  the  focial  hour? 

Soft  pity  beft  becomes  the  human  heart, 

Ami  wcakne Is  claims  the  mild  regarding  eyer 

And  iince  the  vernal  day  may  foon  depart. 

Why  mould  you  ftrive  to  lengthen  out  the  figh? 

For  think,  ah  think  !  it  will  not  always  laft. 
This  fleeting  life  you  lov'd,  and  now  deplore  ! 

Soon  will  the  fwift-wing'd  day  of  youth  be  paft. 
Soon  fate  o'erwhelm — and  ev'ry  joy  be  o'er. 

'Twere  better  far  to  join  the  jocund  throng, 
Wind  the  wild  walk  along  the  fummer  lawn  ; 

Toy  with  the  fairfec^uefter'd  bow'rs  among. 
Or  pour  the  lay  at  Mira's  foft  command! 

What  though  no  purpl'd  king,  nor  titled  fire,» 
Grace  the  itmg  progrefs  of  your  humble  line  ; 

No  gazing  crowds  your  glittering  pomp  admit e, 
Or,  proltratc  low,  mifcal  your  power  divine. 

What  though  no  coftly  robe,  nor  fliining  ore, 
Adorn  your  limbs,  or  heap  th'  o'trflowing  cheft; 

The  roufes  fcorn  the  fplendid  pride  of  pow'r, 
And  flied  their  honours  on  the  low-born  breaft. 

Poetic  youths,  in  many  a  lawn,  and  grove, 
Mufing,  in  tuneful  tranfports,  oft  we  find; 

And  oft  the  thymy  heath  they  fauntring  rove. 
Or  court,  in  wayward  ftrains,  the  whilpering 
wind. 

The  fylvan  choirs,  that  wake  the  vocal  lay  ; 
The  cryllal  ftreams,  that  murmur  as  they  flow  ; 


THE   WORKS   OF   GRJE1ME. 


The  waving  meadows,  fragrant,  frefh,  and  gay, 
Have  fweets  the  fons  of  grandeur  never  know  ! 

Say,  then,  when  nature  fpreads  the  pleafing  theme, 
And  willing  mules  fhed  their  genial  art ; 

Say,  will  you  quench  the  heav'n-enlighten'd  flame, 
-And  bid  lorn  forrow  chill  the  glowing  heart  ? 

Forbear,  my  friend  !  the  mournful  figh  forbear; 

Too  long  hath  forrow  held  her  baleful  fway! — 
See  vengeful  mirth  her  proftrate  banners  rear, 

And  force  the  fury  from  her  realms  away  ! 

'Tis  done — and  pleafure  takes  her  wonted  ftand  ;--• 
I  fee  the  fmile  ; — I  hear  the  fprightly  fong  ;-•- 
In  ruddy  circles  crowd  the  jocund  band, 
.  And  hail  the  numbers  as  they  pour  along. 

\Vide,  and  more  wide,  the  vengeful  victor  flies ; — 
I  fee  the  lovers  feek  their  fav'rite  grove — 

In  either  bofom  foft  ideas  rife ;  — 

In  ev'ry  accent  breathes  iufpirlng  love  '. 

'Tis  juft — indulge  the  long-forgotten  feaft, 

With  eager  hand  life's  fleeting  fweets  receive  !— 

Scon  may  difeafe  impair  the  vigorous  tafte, 
Dull  ey'ry  fent'e,  and  ev'ry  pow'r  deprave  I 

Ah  !  could  thy  friend,  in  wonted  eafe  reclin'd, 
When  health  infpir'd,  and  pleuiurtf  led  the  day  ; 

Again  enjoy  the  genial  feaft  refin'd, 

The  mutual  rapture,  or  the  melting  lay  ! 

He  would  not  reftlefs  roll  his  languid  eyes, 
With  piercing  pain  exalt  the  cry  of  woe  ; 

And  cheerlefs  view  involving  tempefts  rife, 
And  vernal  rofes  wither  as  they  blow. 

But  pale  difeafe  exhaufts  him  faft  away  ; 

From  him  reviving  joy  will  bloom  no  more  ; 
No  mufe  melodious  cheer  the  ling'ringday, 

No  lovely  Clara  learn  her  tender  lore  ! 

Dark  is  the  dawning  morn,  that  fhone  fo  fair ; 

And  fad  the  night  that  flied  the  balmy  reft  ; 
And  dim  the  radiant  fun's  refulgent  glare  ; 

And  bleak  the  field,  in  flow'ry  fragrance  dreft  ! 

Cold-hearted  death,  with  wanly,  glaring  eye, 

Forth  from  the  gloom  begins  his  deftin'd  way— 
Saon  will  my  lifelefs  frame  forgotten  lie, 
.  Refign'd  to  native  earth — a  clod  of  claj  ! 

Haply,  with  partial  tendernefs  poiTeft, 

Clara  may  breathe  one  fecret  figh  fincere  ; 

And  friendfhip  ftrike  the  forrow-fobbing  breaft, 
And  bid  remembrance  drop  one  pious  tear ! 

But  not  unmindful  of  the  life  you  love, 

Leave  e.ach  warm  wifh  to  cold  complaint  a  prey; 

Follow,  where  pleafure's  foft  fuggeftions  move, 
And  wipe  the  ftreamy  tribute  1'wift  away. 

ELEGY  IX. 

ON    THE    ANNIVERSARY. 
BT  ROBERT  ANDERgON,  M.  D. 

THE  weird  fifters,  on  the  dreary  ftrand, 

Fore  fa  w  this  day,  twining  the  fatal  thread, 

And  would  have  ftopt,  but,  urg'd  by  Jove's  com- 

rr.p.nd, 
They  ipuu  the  reft,  and  weeping  firm'd  the  deed. 


O  day  accurs'd  I  that  faw  her  laft 

To  maiden  honour,  innocence,  and  fame  ; 

Nor  night's  black  mantle  round  thy  vilage  drew, 
Nor  lent  one  cloud  to  cover  Sylvia's  fliame  1 

On  thee  no  morn  (hall  roufe  the  grateful  fong, 
No  gladd'ning  fun-beam  wake  the  flow'ry  dye ; 

But  Pheebus  roll  his  raylefs  car  along, 
In  awful  fadnefs  through  the  mirky  iky  '. 

Vile  birds  obfcene  fliall  range  the  fulphry  air, 
The  boding  raven  fpread  her  footy  plume ; 

The  fhrivelPd  bat,  the  moping  owl  be  there, 
And,  cluttering,  add  new  horror  to  the  gloom, 

The  hand  of  dread  fhall  feal  the  lips  of  joy, 
Pleafure,  aghaft,  forget  her  fyren  fong  ; 

Amazement  petrify  the  feftive  boy, 

And  freeze  the  vig'rous  fpirits  of  the  young. 

Terror  fliall  range  the  fav'rite  haunts  of  love, 
Fear's  paliy'd  arm  embrace  the  poplar  (hade  ; 

The  graves  pale  "habitants  traverfe  the  grove, 
While  verdure  withers  at  their  baleful  tread. 

Not  even  more  terrible  that  dreadful  day, 

When  worlds  fhall  dagger,  and  creation  fhake  ; 

When  chaos  fhall  echo,  and  archangels  fay, 
"  Be  time  no  more  !— ye  fleeping  dead  awake  !'* 

ELEGY  X. 

IN  THE  MANNER  OF  THE   ANCIENTS. 

THE  zephyrs,  wak'd.  at  fpring's  refreshing  gale, 
Flap  their  light  wings,  and  fan  the  verdant  vale  ; 
Where'er  their  balmy  influence  they  breathe, 
Green  grows  the  grafs,  and  fiow'iets  bloom  be 
neath  ; 

In  fofter  numbers  rolling  waters  flow, 
And  ev'ry  heart  is  freed  from  ev'ry  woe ; 
The  feather'd  fongfters  wanton  on  the  fprajr, 
Sport  with  their  mates,  and  Jove  their  lives  away  : 
From  hill  to  hill  the  carelefs  fhepherd  roves, 
And  gathers  garlands  for  the  maid  he  loves  ; 
With  art  he  blends  the  flovv'rs  of  diff' rent  hue, 
The  green,  the  red,  the  yellow,  and  the  blue. 

O  happy  fwain  !  O  fwain  fecure  of  blifs  ! 
The  grateful  girl  will  thank  you  with  a  kifs. 
Come,  gentle  fwain !  I'll  join  my  toil  with  yours, 
I'll  weave  gay  garlands,  and  I'll  gather  flow'rs  ; 
Won  with  fuch  gifts,  Eliza  may  relent, 
Forego  her  harfhnefs,  and  her  frowns  repent ; 
Pity  my  pafllon,  and  relieve  my  pain, 
Nor  let  me  figh  the  live-long  night  in  vain,  [trice, 

Ah,  flatt'ring  thought  I  what  garland,  what  de- 
Can  melt  a  bofom  of  unfeeling  ice  ? 
Still  might  I  hope  more  happy  days  to  fee, 
Were  fhe  but  cold  and  cruel  unto  me. 
But  the  whole  race  alike  her  fcorn  and  hate, 
The  gods  themfelves  can  hardly  mend  my  fate  ! 

Then  ply  your  labour,  fhepherd,  and  be  bleft, 
With  fome  fair  maiden  of  more  tender  breaft, 
While  I  indulge,  in  unavailing  woe, 
Another's  joy,  the  only  joy  I  know. 

ELEGY  XL 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,    M.  D. 

TH*  clam'rousdin  ofbufyday  is  o'er; 
Jiight,  downy-wing'd,  rcfuwej  her  filent  fwsy 


ELEGIES, 


Soft  o'er  the  village  fheds  the  balmy  pow'r, 

And  foothes  with  cheering  dreams  the  hours 

away. 
The  fons  of  labour  o'er  the  homely  ftraw, 

Out-ftretch'd  at  eafe,  in  fweet  refrefliment  doze ; 
And  modeft  maids  from  moon-led  fwains  with 
draw, 

To  bathe  their  lovely  limbs  in  foft  repofe. 
But  what  avail  the  filence-fhedding  eve, 

The  downy  bed,  or  fleep's  refrefhing  pow'r  ? 
Awake  to  anguifh  and  inglorious  grief, 

Sylvia  bewails  the  folitary  hour  ! 

Still  unbefriended,  fuccourlefs,  and  fad, 
Her  lading  fliame  arrefts  her  doling  eye  ; 

Penfively  droops  her  weary-wakeful  head, 
And  from  her  bofom  burfts  a  bitter  figh. 

Ceafe,  Sylvia !  ceafe  the  unavailing  view, 

Quit  the  fad  theme,  and  clofe  the  cry  of  care  ! 

Can  ceafelefs  fighs  unfpotted  fame  renew, 
Or  forrows  mingled  with  the  midnight  air  ? 

Ah  no  '.  'tis  pad,  th'  irrevocable  doom  '. 

In  vain  the  tear,  in  vain  the  plaintive  lay  ! 
When  black  dishonour  fpreads  her  cheerlefs  gloom, 

Returning  fame  ne'er  flieds  one  genial  ray. 

The  fcornful  look,  the  acrimonious  taunt, 
Pale  envy's  fneer,  and  fcandal's  bufy  tongue, 

Will  ftill  the  haplefs  maiden  mourner  haunt, 
Proclaim  her  folly,  and  her  fliame  prolong. 

In  vain  the  pitying  pray'r,  the  wifh  forlorn, 

The  contrite  tear,  the  penitential  figh ; 
Alike  they  fmooth  the  wreathy  brow  of  fcorn, 

Melt  the  proud  heart,  or  lofs  of  fame  fupply. 
Yes,  you  may  Cgh,  and'mourn,  and  wifh  in  vain, 

Nor  find  a  balm  to  footh  your  growing  grief; 
Contempt  will  ftill  perpetuate  the  >1ain, 

Returning  virtue  vainly  beg  relief. 

No  foftdiftrefs  can  melt  the  ftubborn  race, 

Th' unfeeling  heart,  the  ear  that  will  not  hear: 

>for  maiden  honour,  funk  in  fad  difgrace, 

Draw  down  the  cheek  the  pity-ftreaming  tear, 

Yet,  while  the  proud,  with  rival  fcorn  purfue 
Your  fliameful  fall,  and,  unrelenting,  frown, 

I'll  drop  a  tear — 'tis  nature's  tribute,  due 
To  other's  woes,  and  frailties  not  our  own. 

Yes,  I  will  mourn  thee,  haplefs,  charming  maid  ! 

Soft  o'er  thy  virtue  pour  the  pitying  tear  ; 
Till  low  in  earth  thy  figh-fliook  frame  be  laid, 

And  kind  oblivion  clofe  thy  doom  fevere  ! 

ELEGY  XII. 
THE  FAIR. 

THI  fun  fliines  potent  from  the  mid-day  fky, 
His  rays  glance  dazzling  from  the  tinfel'd  head 

The  noon-tide  fervour  fmooths  the  gloffy  hair, 
And  aids  the  bluflies  of  the  panting  maid. 

The  ruftic  gallants,  with  their  redd'ning  prize, 
Retire  exulting  from  the  dufty  ftreet, 

Quaff  the  cool  beer,  and  mix'd  with  kifles  bland 
And  forceful  fighs,  the  tender  tale  repeat. 

While  coyly  paffive  fits  the  modeft  fair, 
With  breaft  wild-throbbing,  and  dejected  eye 


)r  fhould  (he  kind  adjuft.  the  rofy  lip-,  . 
Or  court  th'  embrace,  no  envious  tell- tile  nigh. 

On  yonder  board  the  bowl  and  tumbler  mark 
More  coftly  liquor,  and  a  richer  Mifs; 

raft  by  her  fide  the  brawny  (tripling  fmiles, 
Nor  values  fixpence,  while  he  gains  a  kifs. 

[f  fuch  the  blellings  of  a  low  eftate, 

Who  would  not  joy  to  guide  the  fhinin^  fliare, 
To  whirl  the  flail,  ingulf  the  polifli'd  fpade, 

Or  tune  the  reed  befide  a  fleecy  care  ? 

Name  not  the  biting  blaft  the  peafant  bears, 
The  face  embrown'd,  the  blifter-fwelling  hand ; 

A  day  like  this  rewards  an  age  of  toil, 
Softens  the  voice  of  many  a  rough  command. 

But  lo  '.  appears  amid  yon  jovial  crew 

A  brow  deep-furrow'd  by  the  hand  of  care  ! 

'Tis  Damon's— forrow  blanks  his  native  bloom, 
And  mufing  melancholy  dulls  his  air. 

In  vain  Dorinda,  fondling,  drives  to  eafe 
The  forrows  rankling  in  his  penfive  b;-tafl ; 

In  vain  his  cheek  is  pal'd  with  jocund  blow, 
In  Tain  his  hand  with  artful  fqueeze  is  preft. 

No  kind  endearments  will  the  youth  return. 
Though  inftant  thus  (he  courts  the  balmy  blifs, 

And  oft  averts  the  radiance  of  her  eyes, 
In  fond  expectance  of  the  ravid'd  kifs. 

Be  gallant,  Damon  !  with  the  willing  maid, 
Like  others,  toy  the  laughing  hours  away  ; 

Commix'd  with  rugged  labour's  lufty  fons, 
Why  more  refin'd  and  delicate  than  they  ? 

Can  the  fmooth  pebble  of  the  playful  boy 
For  ever  curl  the  furface  of  the  deep  I 

Can  Clara  cenfure  what  liie  does  not  fee, 
Or  read  inconftancy  upon  thy  lip  ? 

Still  art  thou  gloomy — confolation's  vain : 
Can  confolution  bring  the  virgin  here  1 

Till  then,  you  feel  the  weighty  hand  of  woe, 
And  drop  in  fecret  difappointmeut's  tear. 

ELEGY  XIII. 

IMITATED  FROM  HORACE. 

WHEN  virtue  guards,  and  innocence  protect*, 
The  deadly  mu/ket  and  the  fword  are  vain  ; 

Fortune  may  frown,  furrounding  ills  perplex, 
Tht  fmile  of  confcience  fmooths  the  path  of 
pain. 

Serenely  brave,  through  Lybia's  fcorching  wilds 
The  good  man  walks,  nor  dreads  her  brindle*! 
brood, 

Purfues  his  way  where  Indian  never  builds 
His  humble  hut,  and  ftems  Orellan's  flood. 

A  meagre  wolf,  a  fiercer  never  den'd 

In  Alpin  forc.ft,  or  Helvetian  hill, 
Gaunt  famine  lengthen'd  every  claw  to  rend, 

And  hunger  whetted  ev'ry  tufk  to  kill ; 

From  me,  unarm'd,  with  hideous  howling  fled, 
Aghaft.deferted  his  defencelels  prey, 

As  in  Virginian  woods  I  lonely  flray'd, 

On  Mha  rnui'cl,  and  plann'd  the  plaintive  lay. 


Vj»  THE  WORKS  OF  GRAEME. 

Yes,  lovely  maid  !  eVn  here  T  feel  thy  pow'r, 

Though  kingdom?  lie,  and  oceans  rage  between ; 
Revere  thy  virtues,  all  thy  charms  adore, 

And  wifh  thee  prefent  at  each  pleafant  fcene. 


Wherever  ftation'd  by  the  will  of  Heav'n, 
On  Lybian  deferts,  or  on  Zemblan  fnows, 

Wherever  carry'd,  or  wherever  driven, 

Still  (hall  thy  abfence  number  with  my  woes. 

ELEGY  XIV. 

THK  rrfton  fliines  filv'ry  on  the  limpid  ftream, 
Scarce  blufh  the  flow'rs,  in  fainter  dyes  array'd ; 

The  howlets,  roufing  at  the  friendly  beam, 
With  lazy  pinions  fcour  the  dulky  glade. 

The  time-ftruck  turret,  on  yon  mountain's  brow, 
Projecting  wide,  embrowns  the  lowly  vale  ; 

The  fpiry  column  leflens  to  the  view, 

And  bluifli  clouds  the  fcatter'd  huts  cenceal. 

The  younglings,  ravifh'dfrom  the  fleece-clad  ewes. 
Wake  plaintive  bleatings  from  the  turf-built 
fold; 

The  moon-fcar'd  heifer  hollow-murm'ring  lows, 
And  drony  beetles  noify  wings  unfold. 

The  lapwing,  clam'rous,  feeks  her  vary'd  race. 
Along  the  heath  (he  (hoots  on  founding  wing; 

From  where  yon  firs  their  fliaggy  (harp  tops  raife, 
The  widow'd  turtles  doleful  dirges  fing. 

It  was  Eliza!  in  a  night  like  this, 

As  calm  the  air,  as  clear  the  confcious  moon, 

The  midnight  mourner  fung  our  mutual  blil's, 
And  rivers  lull'd  us,  as  they  flowly  run  : 

When  you  around  me  threw  your  velvet  arms, 
Moift  roll'd  your  eye,  wild  heav'd  your  fnowy 

bread, 

And  gentle  fpoke,  while  rcdden'd  all  your  charms, 
Words  well  remember'd,   for  you  fpoke  and 
kifs'd. 

"  Before  Alexis  ceafe,  in  lore's  bright  garb, 

To  be  Eliza's  deareft  chief  delight, 
Shall  ceafe  yon  twinkling  ftars— -that  glorious  orb, 

With  filv'ry  radiance  to  adorn  the  night." 

But  what  avail,  Eliza,  all  thy  vows, 

The  foft  endearments  of  thy  faithlefs  tongue, 

Since  for  another  all  thy  beauty  blows, 

Heaves  thy  fair  brealt,  and  warbles  forth  thy 
fong  > 

The  captive,  fetter'd  with  the  galling  chain, 
Immur'd  in  dungeons,  and  remote  from  day, 

Should  bright-ey'd  hope  hex  cheering  influence 

deign, 
The  flug-turr'd  concave  echoes  to  his  joy. 

But  hope  no  more  illumes  the  future  hour, 
Defpair  invefts  it  with  her  difmal  (hade  ; 

Soon  l.ay  me  low  (hall  death's  tremenduous  pow'r, 
In  long  oblivion  of  the  bridal  bed. 

1  need  no  poifon  blended  with  the  bowl, 

NV  wound  red-ftreaming  from  the  pointed  fteel, 

Grief  chills  the  living  vigour  of  my  foul, 

And  round  my  heart  death's  leaden  hand  I  feel. 


ELEGY  XV. 


THE    LINNET. 

UNHAPPT  and  unbleft  the'man, 

Whom  mercy  never  charm'd  ; 
Whofe  heart,  infenfible  and  hard, 

No  pity  ever  warm'd. 

Far  from  his  dangerous  abode, 

Heav'n  !  may  my  dwelling  lie  ; 
And  from  his  unrelenting  race 

Ye  little  warblers  fly. 

Though  thick'ning  hawthorns  blend  their  boughS| 

And  furze  wide  fpread  around. 
Yet  build  not  there  your  downy  nefts, 

Nor  truft  the  faithlefs  groand. 

Although  his  fmiling  fields  produce 

The  moft,  the  fitted  food  ; 
Beware,  beware,  nor  thither  bring 

Your  young,  your  tender  brood. 

Behold  a  fifter  linnet  there, 

Laid  lifelefs  on  the  green  ! 
Fled  is  the  fmoothnefs  of  her  plumes, 

And  fled  her  fprightly  mien. 

The  grafs  grows  o'er  her  ruffled  head^ 

Arid  many  a  tap'ring  rufli ; 
Though  once  a  fairer,  fweeter  bird, 

Did  never  grace  a  bulh. 

It  was  but  yefterday  (he  fat 

Upon  a  thiftle's  top, 
And  ey'd  her  faaiily  pecking  round  : 

Their  fupport  and  their  hope — 

Each  look,  and  ev'ry  chirp,  betray'd 

A  mother's  fond  delight ; 
To  fee  them  all  fo  fully  fledg'd, 

And  capable  of  flight.  » 

Clofe  in  the  middle  of  a  bufli, 

With  prickles  thick  befetj 
She  brought  them  forth ;  no  favage  boy 

The  wily  neit  could  get. 

Full  twenty  days,  with  pious  bill. 

Their  gaping  mouths  (he  fed  ; 
Till  ripe,  they  left  their  hair-iin'd  home, 

Slow  flitting  as  (he  led. 

Joyful  they  flap'd  their  new-grown  wings, 

But  happy  for  them  all  1 
Had  they  but  kept  their  native  bufh, 

Nor  feen  a  mother  fall. 

Blithfome  fhe  fat,  and  fweetly  fang, 

Nor  dream'd  of  danger  near; 
How  could  (he,  confciou*  of  no  ill  ? 

The  guilty  only  fear. 

But,  prais'i  for  villany,  alas ! 

Not  innocence  can  fhun, 
tfor  all  a  linnet's  mufic  ward 

The  fchoolboy's  lawleis  (tone. 

'  Train'd  by  a  rough  unfeeling  fire, 

To  cruelty  and  pride, 
An  infant  ruffian  pafllng  by, 

The  harralefs  bir4  efpied  *.'* 

*  Tbifjlanim  added  by  Dt;  Anderfis* 


ELEGIES. 


43* 


Coaecal'd  behimd  an  hawthorn  hedge, 

He  took  his  deadly  aim ; 
Thick  thick  the  feathers  floated  round, 

And  flutt'ring  down  ftie  came. 

Full  faft  her  fearful  younglings  fly, 

Into  a  Reighb'ring  fhade ; 
Where  low  they  cow'r  difoonfolate, 

And  mourn  a  mother  dead. 

Penfive  they  fit,  with  hunger  pin'd, 

Nor  dare  defert  the  fpray; 
Nor  know  they  how  to  gather  food, 

No  mother  kads  the  way. 

ELEGY  XVI. 

LAURA. 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

DEEP  in  yon  vale,  where  tow'rs  the  poplar  tall, 

And  winds  the  flow  wave  down  its  cryftal  way ; 
A  ruin'd  caftle  lifts  its  hoary  wall, 

O'erhungwith  fpreading pines, and  beechesgrey. 
Where  oft,  refponfive  to  the  fprightly  lay, 

The  light  foot  beunded  o'er  the  feftive  floor ; 
And,  fheltcr'd  from  the  dog-ftar's  fultry  ray, 

The  jolly  lordling  led  the  revel  hour. 

Where  oft,  along  the  cool  fequefter'd  glade, 
The  glitt'ring  female  train  was  feen  to  rove, 

And  warbled  foftly  from  the  woodbine  fhade, 
Were  heard  the  vows  of  undiflembled  love. 

But  there,  the  fbng  has  now  forgot  to  found, 

The  gentle  lovers  there  no  longer  figh; 
The  mould'ring  manfion  howlcts  hoot  around  ; 

And  echoing  bowers  to  boding  rooks  reply. 
There,  oft,  alone;  the  folitary  green 

The  frighted  mepherd  hears  the  err  of  care ; 
And  fire-clad  forms,  and  fhadowy  fhapes,  are  fees 

To  walk  the  wild,  or  wing  the  mirky  air. 
There  oft,  contemplative  of  pomp  and  pow'r, 

Time's  wafteful  rule,  and  fortune's  fleeting  day, 
The  mufe-fir'd  poet,  at  this  folemn  hoiir, 

Sighs  deeply  fad,  and  plans  the  penfive  lay. 
Perhaps,  now  mufing  on  the  mould'ring  wall, 

The  mofs-grown  roof,  or  ivy-mantled  gate, 
He  eyes  the  Crumbling  fragments  as  they  fall, 

And  vindicates  the  varying  forms  of  fate. 

Did  Contemplation  aid  my  mounting  mind, 

Or  Fancy  deign  her  eye-enlightening  ray, 
I  oft  wou'd  loiter  there,  to  thought  refign'd, 

And  pour  with  rapture  forth  the  moral  ky. 
But  me  no  gifts  the  tuneful  lifters  give, 

To  grace  the  fong  with  philofophic  lore  ; 
Fond  love  alone  inftructsme  to  deceive, 

With  wild-notes  weak,  the  folitary  hour. 
All  f>y  the  margin  of  this  murm'ring  ftream, 

That  through  the  lone-vale  leads  its  winding 

way, 
Frequent  I  roam,  in  many  a  wayward  dream, 

Till  twilight  robe  the  glimm'ring  groves  with 

grey. 
Till  Claja  come, — my  fecret  ftep  to  trace, 

From  fcenes  where  joys  in  dull  fucceflion  roll ; 
HOW  ftveet  to  fold  her  here  1»  chafte  embrace, 

While  rifing  rapture  runs  from  foul  to  foul ! 


But  who  is  {he,  along  the  op'ning  glade, 
Whofc  gaule  form  now  rufhes  on  my  eye  ! 

Low  on  the  ban.k  {he  leans  her  penfive  head, 
And  pores  upon  the  ftrcamkt  rolling  by. 

Fled  are  the  charms  which  health  and  joy  infpirf, 

Fled  the   frefh  bloom,  and  fled  the  mirthful 

mien ; 
Her  eye  beams  mildly  with  a  fading  fire, 

And  flow  tears  trickle  down  her  cheek  fcrcn<r, 
'Tis  Laura  !— mufing  melancholy  leads 

Her  frequent  footftep  o'er  the  lonely  dale, 
Where  winding  waters  glide    through  gloomy 
fhades, 

And  penfive  flock-doves  pour  their  weary  wail. 
How  chang'd  from  her,  in  beauty's  brighter  day 

The  pride  and  envy  of  each  fparkling  ball! 
No  fweeter  tongue  could  chaunt  the  fprightly  lay 

No  lighter  foot  could  trip  the  feftive  hall. 

The  good,  the  gay,  the  graceful,  and  the  young, 

Submiflive  faw  their  rival  charms  furpaft  ; 
According  praifes  flow'd  from  ev'ry  tongue, 

And  hope,  prefaging,  promis'd  they  fhould  laflr 
And  had  (he  known  the  fly  licentious  art, 

That  gilds  the  praifes  of  the  rich  and  gay, 
Free  from  difhonour's  unrelenting  fmart, 

She  ftill  had  fung  her  fmiling  youth  away. 

But,  unperceiv'd,  the  flatt'ring  Flavio  flrove, 

With  foft  deceit,  to  foothe  her  fimple  ear ; 
He  bade  the  eye  in  melting  fondnefs  move, 

And  ev'ry  word  a  winning  foftnefs  wear. 
The  blooming  profpect  breath'd  refiftlefs  guile, 

The  faft  contagion  ran  through  ew'ry  pore  ; 
Unhallow'd  pleafure  wore  a  waning  fmile, 

And,  warmly  wanton,  urg'd  the  fyren  lore. 

She  little  knew,  to  dread  the  tempting  round, 
Where  vernal  flow'rets  veil  their  venom'd  hue  9 

But  rafhly  burft  th'  irremeable  bound, 

And  bade  the  haunts  of  hallow'd  love  adieu ! 

The  fair  illufion  now  diflblvts  away, 

No  fprightly  mufic  warbles  from  her  tongue  ! 

NO  fray  afiemblies  wing  the  jocund  day, 
No  fawning  Flavio  leads  her  fteps  along ! 

Far  from  the  fparkling  ball,  the  feftive  fliade, 
She  waftes  her  day&  in  folitude  forlorn  ! 

Whik  weeping  loves  furround  her  fleeplefs  bed, 
And  mourning  graces  cloud  her  joylefe  morn. 

So  fades  a  flow'r  by  deadly  drought  deftroy'd, 
Nor  breathes  one  fweet  of  all  its  fragrance  pail; 

So  droops  a  tree  by  wint'ry  winds  annoy'd, 
And  ftghsits  ravifh'd  honours  to  the  blaft. 

E.ntranc'd  in  pleafure's  meretricious  bow'r, 
Where  madnefs,  mirth,  and  gi»'dy  riot  rtve, 

Unfeeling  Flavio  laughs  his  conijueft  o'er, 
And  boafts  the  wound  his  cruel  flatt'ry  gaye. 

In  vain,  revolves  her  folitary  day. 

Her  fleeplefs  night  and  ceafelefs  figh  are  vain ; 
Unheard,  unnoted,  rail  their  rounds  away, 

Nor  flied  one  forrow  o'er  the  frolic  fccne. 

Pity,  perhaps,  amid  the  mad  career 

Of  magic  raptures,  circling  wildly  round, 

Some  future  day  may  difenchant  his  ear, 
And  all  thcblifs.  of  jovial  joy  confound, 


THE   WORKS   OF   GRJEME. 


Haply,  when  age  with  retrofpedHve  eye, 

Reviews  the  arts  that  ftain'd  her  fpotlefs  name, 
Remorfe  may  learn  to  breathe  a  hitter  figh 

O'er  the  fad  relics  of  her  ruin'd  fame. 
For  me,  lone  wand'ring  in  the  twilight  fhade, 

When  folemn  ftillnefs  holds  her  lonely  fway, 
May  malice  ne'er  my  mufing  mind  invade, 

Nor  fcern  loud-laughing,  claim  my  gentle  lay. 
Be  mine  the  heart  that  melts  at  others  woe, 

The  hearing  ear  and  pitying  eye  be  mine  ; 
"With  foft  compaflion  may  my  bofom  glow, 

And  grief  fincere  my  feeling  foul  refine. 

And  may  my  maid,  with  fympathizing  care, 

A  frail  and  feebler  virtue  full  in  view, 
Jufl  heave  one  figh,  and  drop  one  tender  tear  ! 

To  female  fortune  furely  this  is  due  ! 
So,  may  regarding  heav'n  our  loves  prolsng ; 

So,  when  we  fink  in  honour'd  age  to  reft, 
Some  gentle  bard  may  raife  the  mournful  fong, 

And  ffcrewwithfweeteftflow'rsthefeeling  breaft. 

ELEGY  XVII. 

TO   THE  MEMORY  OH    MR.  JAMES  FISHER*. 

SOFT  let  me  tread  the  hallow'd  ground, 

A  druid's  buried  near ! 
And  can  I  pafs  a  druid's  grave, 

Nor  drop  a  friendly  tear  ? 
Short  is  the  path,  and  broad  tke  way, 

That  leads  unto  the  tomb  ; 
The  flow'rs  of  youth  but  feldom  bud, 

Or  wither  in  their  bloom. 

The  vernal  bijsezes  fweetly  breathe, 

And  all  their  beauties  wake  ; 
When,  lo  !  a  ftorm  defcgnds,  and  they 

Are  ravifh'd  from  the  flalk. 
Full  many  a  youth  in  flow'ry  prime 

Indulges  hope  to-day, 
Who  nevec  fees  to-morrow  da  ^vn, 

Death's  unfufpecled  prey. 
But  while  I  weep  in  mournful  ftrains, 

O'er  youthful  years  laid  low  ; 
Still  let  me  paufe,  nor  dare  blafpheme 

The  hand  that  gives  the  blow. 
How  many  diff'rent  ills  confpire 

To  four  the  cup  of  life  ! 
What  various  paflions  vex  the  bieaft, 

With  unabating  ftrife  ! 
The  woes  that  harrow  up  the  heart 

Increafe  with  ev'ry  day ; 
Death  is  our  only  hope,  and  he 

In  mercy  ends  the  fray. 

*  AJludent  of  divinity,  in  the  Univerftty  of  Edinburgh, 
tfdiftingiiiJbedabHities,andofagretab!e  manners,  tubovvas 
unfortunately  drowned  in  the  Clyde,  lettveen  Lanark  and 
Stonebyres,  in  1 769.  He  -was  the  fan  of  William  Fijher, 
a  refpeflabli  farmer  in  Covington.  It  is  necejfary  to  add, 
that  the  character  of  this  plea/ant,  accomplijbed,  andfen- 
Jtble  young  man,  hailing  been  mijlalen  by  fame  people, 
more  prone  to  cenfure,  than  acute  to  obfer-ve,  the  Prejby- 
tery  of  Biggar  denied  him  his  probation  ;  and  be  tvas 
meditating  a  voyage  to  America.  His  body  ivas  thrown 
tn  the  land,  about  fix  -weeks  after  the  aicidentt  and  in 
terred  in  (lie  iburcb-yard  of  Covingtoit. 


Hail !  highly  favoured  of  Heav'fl, 

Who  fafely  on  the  Ihore, 
Without  concern,  behold  the  wreck 

That  ferv'd  to  waft  you  o'er. 

But  chiefly  hail !  lamented  youth, 

On  whofe  green  grave  I  lie  j 
While  round  me  flalks  thy  penfive  ghofl 

In  fullen  majefly. 

No  more  mail  malice  wound  thy  fame, 

Or  envy's  tale  be  fpread ; 
For  facred  is  the  filent  grave, 

And  hallow'd  are  the  dead. 
No  longer  wilt  thou,  here  and  there, 

An  haplefs  wand'rer  roam ; 
Earth  lends  her  mantle  and  fupplies 

An  unmolefted  home. 

As,  refcu'd  from  the  bleaching  wave, 

Thy  body  turns  to  duft  ; 
Rememb'rance  oft  will  drop  a  tear, 

And  own  thy  fate  unjuft. 

The  traveller  who  pafiesby, 

With  weeping  heart  will  read, 
The  mournful  lay  which  marks  thy  tomb, 

And  foothe  thy  penfive  ftiadc. 

EPITAPH  ». 

HERE  lies,  upon  the  lap  of  earth, 

A  youth  unknown  to  fame, 
Misfortune  damp'd  his  lively  parts, 

And  check'd  his  noble  flame. 

To  malice,  and  to  groundlefs  hate, 

A  frnile  was  all  he  gave ; 
And  from  regarding  Heaven  he  gain'd, 

In  recompence,  a  grave. 

The  virtues  that  adorn'd  his  youth, 

And  mark'd  his  low  eftate, 
Still,  reader,  keep  before  your  eye, 

And  ftrive  to  imitate. 

The  frailties  of  unripen'd  age 

Confign  to  native  earth ; 
Nor  feek  with  facrilegious  hand, 

To  draw  thefe  frailties  forth. 

So  may  his  lamentable  fate 

Upon  you  never  fall, 
Nor  death  furprife  you  unawares, 

Without  a  timely  call      .    . 

ELEGY   XVIII.. 

WRITTEN  NEAR  THE  auiNS  OF  CUTHALLT 
CASTLE  f. 

THE  pale-ey'd  moon  ferenes  the  dent  hour, 
And  many  a  ftar  adorns  the  clear  blue  Iky ; 

While  pleas'd  I  view  this  defolated  tow'r 
That  rears  it's  time-ftruck  tott'ring  top  fo  hight 

Here  was  the  garden,  there  the  feftive  hall, 
This  the  broad  entry,  that  the  crowded  ftreet ; 

The  talk  how  pleafant  to  repair  its  fall, 
And  ev'ry  {tone  arrange  in  order  meet ! 

*  See  Gray's  Ekgy  "written  in  a  country  cbunb-yarJ. 
•}•  Tic  ancient  fiat  of  Ltrd  Svmtrvillf)  "tar  Carmi'dtfr, 
3 


ELEGIES, 


433 


The  fcheme  Isfinifh'd; — ages  backward  roll'd 
And  all  its  former  majefty  reflor'd  :— 

Imagination  haftens  to  u:ii'oM 

The  pomp,  the  pleafures  of  its  long  loft  lord. 

The  voice  of  rriuftc  echoes  through  the  dome, 
The  jocund  rev'ilers  heat  the  bending  floor ; 

In  golden  goblets  generous  liquors  foam, 

And  mirth,  loud  laughing,  wings  the  rapid  hour. 

As  fancy  brightens,  other  fcenes  are  feen  ; 

No  privacy  can  'fcape  her  eagle  eye ; 
She  follows  lovtrs  to  the  midnight  green, 

And  throws  a  glory  round  them  as  they  lie. 

But  mark  tile  change  ! — the  mufic  fwells  no  more 
And  all  the  dome  another  profpecl  \veais; 

Its  mailer's  Hood  diflains  the  ft.-fi.ive  floor, 
And  mirth,  loud-laughing,  faddeus  into  tears. 

O,  how  unlike  that  gentle  fwain,  who  preft      , 
His  yielding  m'iftfefs  on  the  midnight  green! 

The  lover  now,  in  weeds  of  warriors  drctl, 
Deftruchcii  threatsning  in  his  furious  mien. 

Unmov'd,  he  fees  him  nnirder'd  in  his  prime, 
And  wipes  the  blood  red-reeking  on  his  fword ; 

His  favage  miftrefs  hails  the  horrid  crime, 
And  fpurns  the  carcafe  of  her  late-lov'd  lord. 

But  not  unpunifh'd  is  the  guilty  pair, 

Imagination  hurries  on  their  end; 
Behold  the  lifted  faulchion's  djadly  glare  ! 

Now  purple  vengeance  haftens  to  deft-end.' 

That.flroke  became  thee ! — pious  was  the  deed  ; 

So  much  an  haplefs  brother's  blood  mjuir'd  ; 
IB  vain  let  youth,  in  vain  let  beauty  plead ; 

They  pled  for  him,  but  pled,  alas  !  unheard. 

Still,  (HI!  uirweary'd,  reftlefs  fancy  roams, 
On  fwelling  waves  of  wild  vagary  toft, 

Calls  fhected  ipeftres  from  the  op'nirg  t'ombs, 
And  fills  the  tow'r  with  many  a  grrfly  ghoft. 

Penfive  they  flalk  in  melancholy  fta' e,    , 

And  to  pale  Cynthia,  bare  their  gaping  wounds ; 

While  many  a  heapy  ruin's  mofs-clad  height, 
In  hollow  murmurs  all  their  woes  refounds. 

But  whence  that  mournfully  mclo'diqus  fong, 

That  voice  of  elegy  fo  fadly  flow 
The  certain  fymptom  of  a  mortal  wrong ; 

The  diitnal  utt'rance  of  an  earthly  woe  ? 

Haply,  fome  plaintive  folitary  wretch, 

The  thread-bare  mourner  of  a  thread-bare  tale  ; 

Who  nightly  does  the  lunar  radiance  watch, 
And  join  the  howlet  in  his  weary  wail.  - 

Grieving  he  fees  the  ravages  of  time, 

The  fleeting  nature  of  terreftriul  things.— 

"  In  vain  the  ftately  palace  toVrs  fublime, 
"  Low  lie  the  labour'd  monuments  of  kings. 

M  Where  is  the  darling  feat  of  fcrpter'd  pride, 
"  Proud  Babylon,  with  all  her  brazen  gates  ? 

"  No  penfile  gardens  grace  the  dreary  void ; 
"  There  dens  the  dragon,  with  his  fcaly  mates 

"  Where  the  magnificence  of  Grecian  fanes  ? 

"  No  more  the  ftory'd  pyramids  we  fee  : 
*'  An  heap  of  flones  is  all  that  now  remains  ; 

"  'Tis  all  they  arc,  and  all  Versailles  fhall  be ! 

VOL.  XI. 


"  Where  the  fam'd  ftruclures  of  Imperial  Rome  ? 

"  Crefarcan  theatres  to  contain  a  world  ? 
"  All,  all  arc  buried  in  one  mighty  tomb, 

"  All  in  one  gulph  of  defolation  hurl'd  !'* 

Happy,  if  this  fhould  prove  his  only  woe'? 

The  death  of  theatre*  fcarce  could  break  my 

reft; 
From  othtr  caufes  all  my  fo'rrows  flow, 

Far  other  troubles  tear  my  bleeding  bread. 

From  love,    from  love,  my  nightly    wand'ring 
fprings ! 

No  Cumber  fettles  on  my  grief-worn  eye; 
Elfe  not  the  ruin'd  monuments  of  kings 

Could  tempt  my  ilcps  b.-low  the  midnight  Iky* 

ELEGY  XIX. 

Sr  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

FALSE  and  ill-grounded  were  my  hopei, 

My  expectations  vain ; 
Each  ftepjncrcafes  my  complaints, 

And  nourifhcs  my  pain. 

Here  will  I  paufe — this  fhady  walk, 

That  variegated  field, 
Nor  all  the  lovely  landfcape  round, 

Their  wonted  pleafures  yield. 

One  black  and  univcrfal  cl*ud 

Wide  overfpreads  the  whole  ; 
Creation  fickens,  and  is  dark 

And  gloomy  as  my  foul. 

Clyde's  plaintive  wave,  the  fighing  gale, 

The  warbler  of  each  tree, 
Sing  one  fad  melancholy  fong,' 

In  unifon  with  me. 

Why  fhould  I  druggie  with  my  fate  2 

Alas  !   where'er  I  go, 
I  groan  beneath  my  forrows  weight, 

And  bear  about  my  woe. 

Yes,  here  I'll  paufe — and  lay  me  davrat 

Nor  ever  hope  relief  ! 
But  brood  in  filence  o'er  my  ills, 

And  feed  ray  growing  grief. 

If  ye  behold  me,  gentle  peers! 

Thus  lowly  as  I  lie, 
Seek  not  to  raife  me  from  this  tur£ 

In  pity  pals  me  by. 

So  may  ye  never  while  ye  livd 

My  many  mis'ries  prove, 
And  never  never,  weep  forlorn 

A  lucklefs  latent  love. 

Unhappy  he  !  who  danger  fees, 

Nor  can  the  danger  ihun  ; 
Who  looks  on  beauty  when  it  frniled. 

And  hopes,  and  is  undone. 

Yes,  Clara  fmil'd  ;  the  fmile  I  caught'j* 

Red  was  her  blulh  of  ftiame ; 
But  glad  I  caught  the  infant  love, 

And  fann'd  it  to  a  flame. 

Freely  I  took  her  to  my  arms, 

Nor  once  of  diftance  dream'd ; 
But  every  coming  day  and  night 

One  fcene  of  rap_ture  dertn.'«t  I 


434  THEWOR.KSOFGR.ffi  ME. 

But  foon,  O  !  foon,  the  vifion  paft, 

The  fvveet  inchantment  broke, 
Too  foon  we  from  this  fancy'd  blifs- 

To  real  woe  awoke  ! 


£>isjoin'd  by  deftiny's  award, 

"Without  one  laft  farewell, 
Far,  far  from  the  delightful  fccnc 

Difconfolate  we  dwell. 

Disjoin'd  !  for  ever  if  disjoin'd, 

Of  what  avail  this  breath  ? 
.Better  the  cov'ring  of  a  fod, 

The  dark  cold  houfe  of  death. 

Yet,  yet  a  little,  and  I  leave 

Mortality's  low  fphere ; 
Another  world  !— Say,  Clara,  will 

You  meet  your  Damon  there  ? 

No : — henlth  and  happinefs  be  thine, 

Thine  pleafures  ever  new ; 
And  while  1  live,  my  life  ftiall  be 

One  long,  long  figh  for  you. 

ELEGY  XX. 

HXR  ftarry  mantle  night  aloft  difplays, 
And  all  heav'n's  azure  reddens  with  her  rays ; 
Silence  and  quiet  ftillnefs  reign  around, 
Save  where  lorn  Medwan  fends  a  fullen  found  : 
The  weary  fwains  in  filent  {lumbers  lie, 
Mute  is  each  tongue,  and  clos'd  is  ev'ry  eye ; 
All  nature  fleeps  !— but  ftill  this  troubled  breaft 
Broods  o'er  its  forrows,  and  denies  me  reft ; 
Awakes  me  nightly  to  lament  my  woe, 
"Where  green  reeds  ruftle  as  the  breezes  blow. 

O,  Mira !  come,  O,  cruel !  come  and  fee 
The  many  mis'ries  I  endure  for  thee ; 
For  thee,  extended  on  this  turf  I  lie, 
"Weep  this  big  tear,  and  heave  this  mournful  fight 
'Tis  thy  difdain,  my  unrelenting  fair  ! 
Thus  blues  my  breaft,  and  rends  my  haplefs  hair  : 
Your  chilling  fcorn,  O  !  muft  I  ever  prove  ? 
You  fure  might  pity  whom  you  cannot  love  ; 
Might  heave  one  figh,  when  all  my  fighs  you  fee, 
And  give  one  tear  of  all  I  flied  for  thee. 

Hold,  hold,  rafli  maid!    my  youth  unripen'd 

fpare, . 

Another  frown  will  drive  me  to  defpair: 
,  Will  bring  me  immaturely  to  the  grave, 
And  hurl  me  headlong  in  the  rolling  wave. 

ELEGY  XXI. 

BY  ROBERT  ANDIRSON,  M. D. 

GUILT'S  grim  attendants  crowd  my  loathing  fight, 
And  lordly  reafon  fcorns  my  lowly  love  ; 

But  all  in  vain  !  it  pleads  prefcription's  right, 
Nopow'r  can  quench  it,  and  no  force  remove. 

My  thoughtlefs  childhood  fuck'd   the  precious 
bane,   ' 

With  growing  years  the  infant  paffion  grew ; 
.Now  twitted  to  the  fibres  of  my  heart, 

It  laugh*  at  jcafon  with  a  fcornful  brow. 


Though  fhame  with  rcdd'niag  cheeks  obfcure  her 
charms, 

And  infamy  her  native  beauties  fhroud ; 
The  lovely  Sylvia  pidlur'd  in  my  breaft, 

Like  mid-day  fun  difpels  the  dark'ning  cloud. 

The  fmile  of  youth  ftill  haunts  my  afking  thought ; 

I  hear  the  accents  of  the  yielding  maid, 
And  fhrink  below  prevailing  paflion's  pow'r, 

What  wife  men  dictated,  and  fages  faid. 

ELEGY  XXII. 

AT  winter's  numbing  touch,  the  fields 

Lie  wither'd  to  awafte; 
The  trees  their  naked  boughs  extend, 

Obnoxious  to  the  blaft. 

The  lifelefs  leaves  blow  here  and  there, 

The  fport  of  ev'ry  wind ; 
And  here  and  there  the  wood-birds  flit, 

But  can  no  flicker  find. 

The  flcirting  mountains,  lately  ting'd 

With  azure's  airy  hue, 
In  winter's  hoary  mantle  clad, 

Rife  dazzling  to  the  view. 

Love,  erft  admirer  of  the  plain, 

To  cottages  retires, 
Prevents  the  flumbers  of  the  maid,  .^j 

And  kindles  warm  defires. 

In  the  unfinifh'd  furrow  lies 

The  plough,  nor  wounds  the  field ; 

The  reftkfs  rivers  ceafe  to  run, 
In  icy  durance  held. 

Shorn  of  his  rays,  fcarce  does  the  fun 

His  glaring  orb  reveal ; 
But  fudden  fets : — Night  faft  behind 

Unfolds  her  fable  veil. 

But,  fields,  rejoice  !  Behold  the  fpring 

(Though  diflant)  genial  glow ; 
Behold  her  verdant  mantle  fpread, 

Behold  her  blofibms  blow  ! 

Behold,  the  warblers  to  the  wood 

A-neftling  faft  repair ; 
Behold,  difporting  in  the  fliade, 

The  loves  and  graces  bare  ! 

In  mid-day  fplcndor,  fee  the  fun 

Melt  down  tha  mountain  fnow ! 
Impetuous,  on  every  fide, 

The  muddy  torrents  flow  !— 

But  in  misfortune's  cold  embrace 

No  comfort  fmiles  on  me ; 
Joy  faddens  at  my  look,  I  live 
-New  mis'ries  but  to  fee. 

Before  me  ev'ry  profped:  low'rs  ; 

Not  one  propitious  ray 
Of  hope  beams  on  my  darken'd  foul. 

To  light  me  on  my  way. 

Mira  is  abfent ! — all  the  fame, 

A  field  of  flow'rs  or  fnow ; 
Diftant  and  neighb'ring  funs  afford 

Like  nourilhmeat  to  woe-. 


ELEGJES, 


ELEGY  XXili. 

TO   MIRA. 

In  the  Manner  of  Ovid, 

IH  fruitful  Clydefdale  {lands  my  native  feat, 
Mean,  but  not  fordid,  though  not  fpacious,  neat; 
In  Clydefdale,  noted  for  its  lovely  dames, 
And  meadows,  water'd  with  irriguous  flreams ; 
For  juicy  apples,  and  for  mellow  pears, 
Firm-footed  horfes,  and  laborious  fleers. 

In  vain  would  Phoebus  cleave  the  earth  with  heat, 
Or  {torching  Sirius  defolation  threat ; 
In  vernal  pride  flill  fmiles  the  varied  fcene, 
The  fields  ftill  flourifn,  and  the  grafs  is  green  ; 
Rcfrefhing  rills  meander  all  around, 
And  flow'ry  turfs  ftill  fhade  the  fruitful  ground. 

But  what  are  meads  or  racy  fruits  to  me, 
"When  far  remov'd  from  happinefs  and  thee  ? 
Each  charming  profpecT:  changes  to  a  wild, 
And  defolation  reigns  in  ev'ry  field. 
Mira  is  abfent ! — though  I  dwelt  above, 
The  difmal  thought  would  fadden  ev'ry  grove, 
Would  change  the  hue  of  each  immortal  flow'r, 
And  ftar-ftuck  arches  would  appear  to  low'r. 

But,wertthou  there,  the  windy  Alps  would  pleafe, 
Or  Greenland,  guarded  with  her  glaffy  feas ; 
Thy  prefence  would  difarm  the  northern  blafl, 
And  melt  the  mountains  of  eternal  froil. 

How  doubly  pleafant,  walking  by  thy  fide, 
Were  Medwan's  meadows,  and  the  banks  of  Clyde! 
From  blooming  furze  the  linnet's  matin  lay, 
Or  lark's,  fwift  borne  on  early  winds  away! 

Come  to  my  arms,  my  miftrefs  and  my  wife  ! 
Nor  wafte  the  morning  of  too  fhori  a  life. 
Where'er  (he  comes,  ye  fwelling  h!ris  fubfide ! 
And  verdant  valleys  i'mile  on  ev'ry  fide ! 

ELEGY  XXIV. 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

TH  E  wakeful  clock  proclaims  the  midnight  hour, 
The  lift'ning  ghofts  obey  the  folemn  found ; 

Now  flocking  forth  from  reftlefs  graves  they  pour, 
And  now  they  range  their  melancholy  round. 

Where'er  the  lonely  wood-encircled  dome 

Uprears  its  mould'ringmofs-grovvn  roof  on  high, 

With  footftep  drear  they  fweep  the  filent  gloom, 
And  wake  pale  horrors  on  the  fleeplefs  eye. 

Perhaps  the  fpot  where  firfl  they  drew  their  breath, 
That  faw  them  tafle  the  fweets  of  cheerful  day  ; 

The  fpot  where  fome  fell  ruffian  gave  them  death, 
And  tore  them  from  their  blooming  hope=  uway. 

Fatt.  by  the  flream  whofe  drowfy  waters  flew 
Darkfome  and  dreary  through  the  mirky  vale, 

Penfive  they  (talk,  and  murmur  as  they  go 
Unwearied  wailings  to  the  echoing  gale. 

Perhaps,  when  fummer  led  the  lengthen'd  day, 
And  fhed  refiftlefs  round  the  fultry  beam  ; 

Languid  they  left  th'  ipfufferable  ray, 

To  plunge  and  wanton  in  the  cooling  ftream. 

Fearlefs  of  fate,  with  far  unequal  arm, 

Perhaps  they  prideful  fought  the  farther  fhore ; 

In  vain  they  fought, — in  vain  the  loud  alarm  ! — 
The  \vave  was  ruthlefs,  and  thsy  role  no  mere. 


With  fullen  ftep,  and  terror-darting  mien, 

What  crowds  from  ocean's  oozy  depths  repair  ! 

How  many  earth's  unhallow'd  fields  refign, 
To  wail  unnoted  to  the  defert  air ! 

From  the  lone  church-yard's  confecrated  gloom, 
Where  grafs-green  graves  in  decent  order  heave , 

The  numerous  victims  of  a  milder  doom 

Their  narrow  cells  with  penfive  pleaiure  leave. 

Perhaps  they  hie  them  to  their  native  grove, 
Some  fav'rite  walk,  or  long-frequented  fcene } 

Perhaps  along  the  filent  flreet  they  rove, 
Or  lightly  trip  it  o'er  the  vacant  green. 

Perhaps  (fince  meriiory  of  an  earthly  fire 
Yet  warms  the  bofom  of  the  fep'rate  mind) 

They  hover  o'er  fome  hoary-headed  fire, 
Or  heart-dividing  friend  they  left  behind. 

Or,  as  the  rolling  hours  return  the  nighl, 
In  vehicles  of  air,  unfeen,  they  rove 

Round  fome  lorn  maid,  with  fondly  ling'ring  flight, 
Who  mourns  with  many  a  figh  her  ravifh'd  love, 

No  clofmg  walls  their  airy  forms  reftra'in, 
No  rifing  hills  nor  rolling  waves  divide  ; 

No  dread  have  they  of  faucy-wreath'd  difdain, 
Nor  fear  the  frown  of  unrelenting  pride. 

Delightful  talk !— by  me  eavyM  in  vain ! — 
Far,  far  femov'd,  I  plan  the  plaintive  lay, 

Where  rifing  mountains  rear  their  brows  between, 
And  rolling  waters  mark  the  diflaut  way. 

And  high-born  pride,  regards  witn  fcornful  eye 
The  humble  fwain,  the  youth  of  low  degree, 

And  deaf  to  love,  and  nature's  forceful  cry^ 
Exiles  unhonour'd  poverty  and  me. 

Hence  Clara  waftes  away  her  virgin  bloom, 
On  diftant  plains,  in  folitude  obfcure, 

Hence,  all  forlorn  !  I  watch  the  midnight  gloorn3 
And  hence  thefe  melancholy  mnfings  pour. 

ELEGY  XXV. 

TO   ELIZA. 

FAIR  is  Eliza  in  her  lever's'  eye  ; 

No  maiden  on  our  plains  is  half  fo  fair ; 
I  gaze  with  rapture  on  your  charms,  but  figh 

To  think  that  others  may  that  rapture  fliare, 

I  can't  endure  the  cririging  fawning  race 
That  bow  around  you  whereibe'er  you  go  ; 

Contract  your  fpherc,be  cautious  how  you  pleafe; 
The  man  that  frniks  upon  you  is  my  foe. 

Away,  the  empty  buttle  of  a  crcnvd, 

The  languid  ftarv'ling  pleafures  of  a  fownj 

But  take,  O  take  us  fome  fequefter'd  wood, 
To  unknown  blifs,  or  but  to  an'gels  known. 

I  do  not  feck  the  glory  of  the  vain, 

Nor  court  I  envy  from  the  ftolen  glance; 

Poor  is  the  gift,  ar.d  little  does  he  gain, 
Who  leads  a  civil  miftrefs  in  the  dance. 

Be  mine  the  filent  ecftaftes  of  love, 

Too  nice  for  utt'rance,  too  refin'd  for  view; 

I'm  bleft  indeed !  (thus  far  ray  vvifhes  rove) 
Jf.  or.K'  blcft  with  folitude  a::d  you. 
Eeij 


THE 
ELEGY  XXVI. 

OCTOBIR. 


WORKS    OP    GRAMS. 

Alike,  at  morn  or  dufky  eve, 
I  wreftle  with  my  woes. 


J.ATE  does  the  fun  begin  his  fhorten'd  race, 

Languid,  although  no  cloud  obfcures  the  view  ; 

The  nipping  hoar-froft  veils  the  fhrivell'd  grafs, 
Where  wav'd,  erewhile,  the  cool  refrefhing  dew. 

Cold  from  the  north  his  hooked  atoms  calls, 
And  ev'ry  field  in  firmer  fetters  binds; 

Ruftling  in  fhow'rsthe  wither'd  foliage  falls, 
Slow  from  the  tree,  the  fport  of  eddy  winds. 

The  birds,  all  flocking  from  their  fummer  haunts, 

On  the  rough  ftubbles  pick  the  coftly  grain  ; 
His  deadly  fnares  the  cruel  fowler  plants, 

And  intercepts  the  wing  that  flaps  in  vain. 
Hard  is  their  fate  —  if  we  may  call  it  hard, 

To  fhun  the  rigid  winter's  coming  ftorms, 
When  famine  threatens  in  the  farmer's  yard, 

And  drifted  fnow  the  defert  field  deforms. 

The  moft  familiar  of  all  birds  of  fong, 

Domeftic  redbreaft,  on  the  window  fits,   '      4 

While,  feldom  feen,  though  whirring  all  day  long, 
The  active  wren  from  hedge  to  hedge  ftill  flits. 

In  figns  like  thefe,  the  ploughman  wifely  reads, 
Approaching  winter,  and  provides  a  wife  ; 

The  joylefs  feafon  paffes  o'er  their  heads, 
Loft  and  unmark'd  amid  the  fweets  of  life. 

But  wretched  he,  whom  all  the  long  dark  night 
Fate  on  a  lonely  couch  has  doom'd  to  lie  ! 

Does  Mira  frown  at  what  I  trembling  write  ? 
If  Mira  frown,  that  wretched  fwain  am  I. 

ELEGY  XXVII. 

TO  MIRA. 


prefence,  lovely  maid  !  exalts 
My  breaft  with  harmldfs  glee; 
And  the  decayed  face  of  joy 
Renews  at  fight  of.thee. 

Though  harfh  the  utt'rance  of  my  lips^ 
And  fault'ring  be  my  tongue, 

Thy  beauties  harmonize  my  lay, 
And  linnets  learn  my  Cong* 

Incurtain'd  in  the  fliades  of  night, 

I  meditate  thy  charms  ; 
Think  on  thy  form,  and  flumb'ring  feet 

The  preffure  of  thy  arms. 

"Waking,  the  phantom  fades  away, 
And  fcarce  delufion  feems— 

O  !  haften  on  the  wings  of  wirtd, 
And  realize  my  dreams. 

The  fun  arifes,  and  the  fwain 

Unto  his  labour  hies  ; 
The  fwathy  herbage  furs  the  mead, 

The  ruffet  hay-cocks  rife. 

He  downward  tends  on  Hoping  wheels, 

His  glory  gilds  the  weft, 
The  joyful  ruftic  leaves  the  rake, 

And  haftens  home  to  reft. 

But,  in  thy  abfence',  unto  me 
No  feafon  brings  rep»fe 


ELEGY  XXVIII. 

TO   DAMOW. 

On  its  having  addiSltd  blmftlf  to  the  Study  of  Katurzi 
Hi/lory. 

CO.MF,  Damon  !  come,  enough  of  wifdom's  ways,. 

Of  antic  antres,  and  of  grottos  wild ; 
Suppose  a  daffodil  defign  difplays, 

Or  lily,  lady  of  the  flow'ry  field. 

Suppofe  a  mite,  like  potentates  and  kings, 
Can  plead  antiquity,  and  boafl  of  birth ;- 

That  not  a  mufhroom  or  a  maggot  fpring« 
From  the  cold  womb  of  uncreative  earth. 

Philofophy,  and  idle  whim,  away  ! 

\Vhat  is  a  mufhroom  or  a  mite  to  you  ? 
"  They  mark  intelligence." — But,  Damon  !  fay. 

To  love  and  nature  is  there  nothing  due  ? 

Mufl  Clara's  beauties  in  their  bloffom  fade  ? 

The  tears  of  forrow  dim  her  lovely  eyes  ? 
While  you,  infenfible,  difturb  your  head 

With  the  genealogy  of  grubs  and  flies ! 

Recal  her  form,  and  feed  on  fancy's  breafl, 
Unheard  let  Clodio  tell  his  taftelefs  tale ; 

Her  blooming  beauties  a  divine  repaft, 
An  endlefs  banquet,  an  exhauftlefs  meal ! 

If  fair  to  fancy,  how  exceeding  fair 

When  given  unclouded  to  your  lawlcfs  gaze ! 
It  conies — beho}d  the  bridal  day !  prepare 

A  long  farewell  to  wifdom  and  her  ways. 

ELEGY  XXIX. 

CLARA  TO  DAMON. 

AH,  cruel  change  !  from  gentle  to  fevere; 
Change  ever  proves  unfriendly  to  the  fair : 
Show  me  the  man,  the  wond'rous  man,  whofe  mini 
Alters  to  kinder  fentiments  from  kind  ? 
No,  there  is  no  fuch  man  ;  or,  if  there  be, 
Who  would  not  wifh  the  youth  they  love  were  het 
What  maid  would  think  fhe  overdid  her  part, 
To  grafp  the  dear  inconftant  to  her  heart, 
Difcard  each  grim-ey'd  guardian  of  her  charms,. 
And  fold,  and  clofer  fold  him  in  her  arms ! 

'Tis  vifion  all !  the  fame  fevere  decree 
Has  ruin'd  womankind  that  ruins  me ; 
Fram'd,  delicately  fram'd,  for  focial  blifs, 
We  feel  each  finer  paffion  in  excefs; 
In  love  at  length  each  female  friendship  ends; 
We  fcarce  diftinguifh  lovers  from  our  friends ; 
Nor  have  we  learn'd,  with  philofophic  pride, 
From  our's  another's  mis'ry  to  divide. 
But  man  is  fafhion'd  in  a  rougher  mould, 
Infenfible  at  beft,  and  always  cold ; 
His  lumpifh  foul  no  gen'rous  wifh  infpires, 
No  pity  melts,  no  heart- felt  rapture  fires; 
Or,  if  tor  once  it  kindle  into  praife, 
How  foon  the  momentary  flafh  decays  ! 
Scarce  have  we  time  to  hail  the  dawning  light, 
Ere  the  weak  meteor  vanifhes  in  night ; 
With  eager  eyes  we  fear'ch  around  in  vain, 
And  think  to  fee  it  glimmering  again! 


E  I.  E  G  I  E  S. 


45  > 


Alas,  how  foolifli !  'tis  for  ever  gone, 
With  the  delightful  hour  in  which  it  fliono  i 

Ah  me  !  and  muft  I  never  more  prolong 
The  night,  in  lift'ning  to  my  Damon's  icing  ! 
Alas  !  tan  love  admit  of  no  decrcafe, 
That  too,  too  little  !  yet  be  render' d  Ids  ? 
My  happinefs  requires  it  fhould  be  fo  ; 
It  mull,  it  fuall !  though  worlds  ihould  sinfwer,  No. 

Yes,  Damon,  yes,  a  very  weak  excufe 
Will  fa-ecu  the  iilence  of  your  faithleis  mufe; 
Tell  me  on  fyftematic  plains  you  ftray, 
"  Borne  on  the  wings  of  wifdom  far  away." 
But  wherefore  thus  difturb  my  quiet  ?  why 
Regard  your  failings  with  too  nice  an  eye  ? 
Though  grofs  be  the  deceit,  if  you  deceive,       ' 
I  pledge  my  maiden  honour  to  believe. 

ELEGY  XXX. 

BY  ROBERT  ANDIRSON,  M.  D. 

YET  onward  leads  the  lengthening  way, 

Perplexed  and  forlorn ; 
And  chilly  blow*  the  mountain  gale, 

Around  me  reftlefs  borne. 

No  vernal  verdure,  frefh  and  fair, 

Waves  on  the  wat'ry  ray, 
That  frequent  ftreaks  yon  gathering  gloom, 

And  frequent  fades  away. 

I  fee,  wide-fcatter'd  here  and  there, 

'Along  the  dark-brown  wafte, 
The  faded  furze,  the  wither'J  fern, 

The  rock  mofs-clad  and  vail. 

I  hear  the  wild  birds'  wailing  notes, 

Remurm'ring  o'er  the  heath  ; 
Now  to  and  fro  they  flocking  flit, 

Or  cow'r  the  bufti  beneath. 

In  awful  blacknefs  rifing  round, 

I  fee  the  brewing  blaft; 
It  howls  from  yonder  hill's  brown  brow, 

And  fweeps  the;  founding  wafte. 

Near,  and  more  near,  my  pcnfivc  eye 

Remarks  its  rapid  way  ; 
Nowltfs'ning  finks  yon  grey -grown  roc!:, 

Now  vkwlefs  fwims  away. 

Refiftlefs  night  is  falling  fair, 

To  fill  the  frowning  fcene, 
And  leaves  DO  fhelt'ring  ihade,  to  ward 

The  fwift-defcenduig  rain. 

I'll  fit  me  down  upon  the  heath. 

And  wipe  away  this  tear — 
The  chill  blaft  rages  ruthlcfs  by, 

And  horror  meets  my  ear. 

Ah  me !  the  big  round  briny  drop 

Still  gathers  in  my  eye, 
And,  from  my  boding  breail  expires 

Th'  involuntary  figh! 

The  twilight  hour,  with  horror  fraught, 

Is  fleeting  faft  away  ; 
And  fruitlefs  flows  the  falling  tear, 

That  weeps  my  long  delay. 

In  vain  acrofs  tb."  accuftom'd  green 
May  Clara  look  for  me  ! 


Nor  her,  nor  the  dear  face  of  man, 

My  eyes  will  ever  fee  ! 
Surpris'd  along  the  mid-way  wafle, 

Where  driving  tcmpeft.s  blow, 
The  ftern  rdiftlefs  flroke  of  Juts 

Will  lay  my  body  low. 
I  feel,  I  feel  the  chilling  ftorm 

Obftrudt  my  laboring  breath ; 
My  fhiv'ring  limbs  will  focn  be  pale 

And  lifelefs  on  the  heath. 
Unfeen,  unwept,  no  winding  ihroud 

Will  my  cold  corfe  receive; 
No  fad  proceffion  bear  me  on, 

To  fill  my  father's  grave ; 
No  rifing  {lone  reveal  my  name, 

Or  make  my  merit  known  j 
No  fculptur'd  elegiac  lay 

Lament  my  early  doom. 

Extended  o'er  the  howling  heath, 

To  bleaching  blafrs  a  prey  ; 
The  wearing  waite  of  with'ring  winds 

Will  moulder  me  away. 
If  e'er  to  thee,  in  happier  hour, 

My  pray'r  delightful  rofe, 
Pity  my  maid,  myfterious  heav'n  ! 

And  fwift  my  forrows  ciofe. 

ELEGY  XXXI. 

BY  ROBERT  AKDERSON,    M.  D. 

BE  HOLD,  ye  fair !  yon  melancholy  maid, 

The  tear  juft  burfling  from  her  downcaft  eye, 
Who  on  the  willow  leans  her  penfive  head, 

"  And  pores  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by.'1* 
She,  once  Tike  you,  did  laugh  the  hours  away, 

Was  often  merry,  and  was  feldom  grave ; 
Walks  were  not  wanting  to  deceive  the  day, 
/  Nor  love,  I  ween,  to  cheer  the  gloomy  eve. 
The  flow'rs  of  beauty  bloffom'd  on  her  cheek, 

Men  thought  her  witty,  and  file  thought  fo  too  ; 
She  now  and  then  would  think,  but  oft'ner  fpeak. 

And  always  did  as  other  virgins  do. 
When,  lo !  fhe  fell,  for  pafiion  was  her  guide, 

From  fecming  pleafure  into  real  fhame  :— 
Sneer  not,  ye  flaunting  progeny  of  pride  ! 

In  fome  black  hour  your  fate  may  be  the  fame  I 
Weigh  well  your  actions,  ponder  ev'ry  deed ; 

For  future  fame  and  future  fortune,  fear; 
And  follow  not  where  pow'rful  paffions  lead, 

For  fell  repentance  rages  in  the  rear. 

ELEGY  XXXII. 

BY   ROBERT  ANDERSON,    M.  D. 

HXIL'D  the  focialjorsof  life, 

I  wander  here  forlorn, 
Around  me  headlong  torrents  roar, 

Nor  gleams  the  diftant  morn. 
Why  leaps  my  coward  heart  with  fear  ? 

Though  death  befets  my  way- 
No  loving  wife,  no  prattling  babe, 

Bewails  my  long  delay. 

Hackney' d  in  woe,  my  joylefs  youth 

Diffolves  in  briny  tears ; 
And  withers  on  my  downy  cheek, 

The  bloora  of  boyifli  year». 
E  e  j!j 


438 

My  carlieft  love,  my  only  joy, 

Defcrted  virtue's  lore ; 
Ingulph'd  in  infamy  fhe  lies, 

To  rife,  alas !  no  more. 
Tcmpefl-s  drive  on,  collect  your  rage, 

Howl,  gcnius.of  the  fto'rm ; 
Extend,  ye  rivers !  o'er  the  wafte ; 

Come,  Death,  in  any  form. 
Thanks,  thanks,  officious  pqw'r  !  you  conie  ; 

I  feel  thy  friendly  dart ; 
Cold  chills  the  current  of  my  life, 

And  freezes  to  my  heart. 
Farewell,  thou  canker  of  my  hopes ! 

My  ruin'd maid  !  adieu; 
Welcome,  forgctiulnefs  of  woe, 

And  llecp  foy  ever  hew.    ' 

ELEGY  XXXIII. 

TO   CLARA. 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,   M.  D. 

DEPRIV'D  of  all  that  mortals  hold  moft  dear, 
The  world's  free  converfe,  and  the  focial  ear; 
Depriv'd  of  ev'ry  ple'afurable  fcene, 
The  foreft's  foliage,  and  the  meadow's  green  ; 
Where  can  this  wretched  bofom  find  repofe  ? 
Without  is  v.-ilo'nefs,  and  within  are  woes : 
To  whom  diffolve  in  forfow's  fimple  lay, 
And  foftly  figh  its  mifcries  away  ? 
To  whom  but  thee,  where  al!  my  wifhes  tend, 
My  lovely  mifirefs,  and  my  faithful  friend  : 
To  whom  hut  thee,  of  all  the  gods  have  l,eft, 
The  grrateft  blciTing,  and  the  lateft  gift. 

Books,  unpcrcciv'd,  may  fleal  the  lagging  hour, 
And  fear  the  wounds  they  flrive  in  vain  to  cure, 
May  for  a  moment  footh  the  troubled  mind, 
But  ftill  remains  a  dreadful  void  behind  ; 
The  pliant  paffions,  hinder'ct  in  their  courfc, 
Collect  their  rage,  and  fir  ike  with  double  force ; 
Their  waves  reprefs'd,  with  double  fury  roll, 
O'erwhelm,  confound,  and  ftupify  the  foul. 

Hard  are' the  \vaywafd  fates,  that  thus  oppofe 
A  mortal  wight  againft  immortal  foes  ; 
That,  unconcern'd,  behold  me  from  afar 
Waging  an  t-ndlefs,  an  unequal  war  ; 
Hard  is  my  fate  !  yet  never  had  my  cry 
Impcach'd  the  rigid  ruler  of  the  fey; 
Never  my  murmurs,  my  complaints,  been  heard, 
Had  thy  fwcet  voice  my  drooping  fpirits  cheer'd ; 
Thy  hands  fuftain'd  me  fainting  in  die  field, 
My  bleeding  w»unds  thy  wifdbm's  balfam  heal'd. 

Not  fuch  the  happineis  awaits  my  days, 
For  ever  bariifti'd  from  thy  beauty's  blaze  ; 
Weigh'd  down  by  life's  whole  complicated  woes, 
Never  to  rife  from  whence  none  ever  rofe ! 
I  flide,  by  all  unnoted,  to  the  tomb  ;  '  ( 
Tir'd  of  the  prefcnt,  court  a  world  to  come. 

What^'er  my  hopesy-forgive  this  parting  tear! 
They foon  ftiTrrHsv'ither  on  the  mdurnful  bier;  ' 
Soon  with  this  crazy  frame  for  ever  loll, 
Hide  the^r  afpiring  turrets  in  the  duft. 

Farewell,  dear  rrwid  !  conjecture  what  I  feel, 
In  youth  to  bid  the  maid  I,  love  farewell:  > 

Farewell,  dear' maid!  and  never  ruay'ft  thou  be 
A  pining,  plaintive,  dying  wretch,  like  me. 

ELEGY  XXXIV. 
FLED  are  the  bloffoms  of  each  tree, 
'    And  blaftcd  ev'ry  bough  ; 


THE   WORKS   OF   GRAEME. 


Silent  and  gloomy  is  the 

And  folitary  now. 
In  vain  I  feek  each  fav'rite  fpot, 

That  gave  delight  before  ; 
Difmal  each  fav'rite  fpot  appears. 

And  gives  delight  no  more. 
A  profpect  comfortlefs  and  fad, 

Long  lengthens  all  around ; 
And  ev'ry  pafling  ftreamiet  gives 

A  melancholy  found. 
If  on  the  azure  of  the  eaft 

1  fix  my  wand'ring  eye, 
Love,  grief,  and  Mira,  fill  my  foul ; 

I  save,  I  mourn,  I  cry. 

And  can  I  look  to  where  the  fun 

Directs  .his  ev'ning  ray, 
Nor  call  to  mind  an  haplefs  friend  *, 

Who  lingers  life  away  ? 
Yes,  yes,  I  yield,  unhappy  youth  I 

Whene'er  I  think  of  thee ; 
I  yield  the  dearly  purchas'd  prize, 

Superior  mifery. 

But  though  unequal  in  the  ftrifc, 

I  fome  diftindtion  claim  ; 
Ills,  and  misfortunes  not  a  few, 

Adorn  my  growing  name. 

Fate's  iron  pencil  has  engrav'd 

On  either  penfive  brow, 
Some  leading  featnres  of  diftrefs, 

Some  well-touch'd  tints  of  woe. 
Alike  black  envy's  blafling  fang 

And  rooted  fpite  we  prove  ; 
Alike  we  fhed,  the  fecret  tear 

Of  difappointed  love. 
Alike,  deceitful  hope  ufurps 

Our  unfufpecling  breaft ; 
An  artful  minifter  of  woe, 

Ingenious  to  molefi. 

An  cndlefs  crowd  of  ills,  a  fad 

Variety  of  pain, 
Crofs  iffues,  and  tormenting  fears, 

Compofe  her  dreadful  train. — 
Thrke  happy  they,  who  gain  from  heav'c 

A  calm  unru{Hed  life, 
Of  tearlefs  forrow,  filent  woe, 

Uninterrupted  grief ! 
Abftracled  from  thisbufy  fcene, 

Agreed'  with  all  around, 
They  fteal  from  life,  unfelt  the  pain, 

Incurable  the' wound. 
Such  be  the  tenor  of  my  days, 

And  fuch  my  latter  end ; 
And  fuch  ^he  afks  no  more)  may  heav'n 

Beftow  upon  my  friend.     • 

ELEGY  XXXV. 

ON  COMING  TO  THI  COUNTRY. 

HAIL,  dear  companions  of  my  youthful  days  !, 
Frequented  h'ills  and  natal  valleys,  hail  i 

*  Dr.  Andirfon.  ivas  then  at  MtnHanJ  Well,  nrer 
Glafgoiv,  for  the  recovery  of  bis  health. 


ELEGIES. 


439 


Pt&ce  reft  around- --while  I  inceflant  raife 

My  plaintive  voice,  and  woes  unweary'd  wail. 

Pe.ace  reft  around  ? — the  only  boon  I  crave, 
Is,  undifturb'd,  by  yonder  ftream  to  ftray; 

To  mufe  unnoted  in  the  cool  of  eve, 
Unnoted  court  the  dawning  of  the  day. 

Why  would  you  afk  a  melancholy  man, 
To  number  ills  th1  unhappy  only  prove  ? 

The  difmal  tale  would  turn  the  wanton  wan, 
Infectious  forrow  feize  the  group  of  love. 

No,  in  my  bofom  let  them  ever  reft ; 

A  bofom  that  rejoices  in  the  fmart : 
I  grafp  the  dear  deftroyer  to  my  breaft, 

And  feed   the  pafiion   which  muft  break  my 
heart. 

Yes,  Mira  !  yes,  T  hug  thy  faithlefs  form  : 
See  happy  days, — days  never  meant  for  me  ! 

Yet  ftiil  I  feel  the  riling,  raging  ftorm, 

'Tis  tranfport,  joy,  and  death,  to  think  on  thee '. 

Death  !  let  thy  deep-dy'd  purple  garment  flow, 
The  bloody  dagger  threaten  in  thy  hand  ; 

I  fear  thee  not,  array'd  in  weeds  of  woe  ; 
Of  woe,  awak'd  by  Mira's  own  command. 

ELEGY  XXXVI. 

BY  Medwan's  folitary  banks, 

In  vain  I  penfive  ftray  ; 
Ard  recollect  each  happy  fpot 

Where  lovely  Mira  lay. 

Sad  is  the  comfort,  fmall  the  joy, 

Remembrance  can  beftow ; 
A  momentary  gleam  at  moft  ; 

Short  interval  of  woe  I 

Each  waving  willow  brings  to  mind 

Some  fleeting  pleafure  paft  ; 
And  ev'ry  blooming  flow'r  recals 

Some  joy  for  ever  loft. 
Ev'n  Medwan,  as  in  fullen  hafte 

Her  gloomy  waters  roll, 
Points  back  to  former  days,  and  feeds 

The  forrows  of  my  foul. 

Awak'd  by  mem'ry,  fleeping  cares 

With  keener  violence  wound  : 
Each  Itiwly  lily  bears  a  thorn, 

And  briers  are  fpread  around. 
Ye  pleafing,  lonely  fcenes  !  farewel ; 

Nor  wake  my  waning  woes ; 
StilHet  me  fhun  your  dang'rpus  path, 

Nor  hazard  my  repofe. 
Far,  far  remor'd  from  all  your  fnares, 

By  unobferv'd  degrees, 
My  troubled  foul  may  fink  again 

To  melancholy  cafe. 

ELEGY  XXXVII. 

On  the  Lofs  of  the  Aurora,  -with  the  Indian  Sufcr- 
I'ifors,  1769. 

ARE  there,  who,  loft  to  all  their  country's  charms, 
To  friends,  companions,  and  their  native  home, 

Whoburft,  unfeeling,  from  a  parent's  arms, 
And,  mad  for  gold,  in  foreign  regions  roam  ? 


Mean  is  their  aim,  if  gold  alone  allures ; 

If  glory  fires  not,  nor  their  country's  love  : 
On  fuch  the  Indian  nightly  curfes  pours, 

And  calls  red  vengeance  fro*  the  courts  above. 
Alas  I  how  many,  loft  to  honeft  fame, 

On  Guinea's  coaft  have  courted  black  difgrace  ; 
Have  render'd  infamous  a  Briton's  name, 

By  lording  lavvlel's  o'er  a  feeble  race  ! 
How  many,  ev'n  on  India's  fartheft  fhore, 

Have  robb'd  the  helplefs  native  of  his  own  !— 
Not  fuch  the  generous  band,  Aurora  bore 

To  honeft  induttry  and  fair  renown  ! 
Each  breaft  beat  faithful  in  its  country's  caufe, 

Each  heart  was  warm  with  love  of  human  kind  ; 
Keen  to  eftablifli  equitable  laws, 

They  chode  the  failing  breeze  and  lagging  wind. 

Not  always  in  the  bark  where  virtue  fails, 

Does  fmooth-brow'd  fafety  at  the  helm  prefide  ; 
Not  always  is  fixe  fann'd  with  profp'rous  gales, 

Since  death's  dark  waves  oft  dam  againft  her 

fide. 
Since  oft  on  rocks,  to  charts  and  maps  unknown, 

The  haplels  vetfel  differs  ftulden  wreck  : 
Nor  is  it  virtue  that  can  fave  alone, 

When  all  around  the  wat'ry  pillars  break. 

Were  virtue  pow'rful  o'er  the  ftormy  deep, 
Aurora  on  its  bofom  ne'er  had  lain ; 

Nor  mothers  taught  their  infant  babes  to  weep 
For  fathers  tolling  on  the  wat'ry  main*. 

ELEGY  XXXVIII. 
ON  Medwan's  folitary  fhore 

No  gaudy  bloflbnns  blow  ; 
And  filent  is  its  leaf-lin'd  bow'r, 

Or  but  repeats  my  woe. 
The  fairy  forms  thatrevell'd  here, 

In  fancy's  fair  array, 
No  longer  foothe  the  lift'ning  ear 

With  love's  alluring  lay. 
Sullen  they  leave  their  fav'rite  fcene,  , 

To  forrow's  cru.el  crew ; 
But  fate  prepares  another  plain, 

Ye  friendly  fays !  for  you. 
Behold,  by  Tweed's  tranflucent  ftream, 

Eliza  builds  your  bower  1 
There  fliall  you  feed  the  fecret  flame, 

While  finging  fwains  adore. 
But  me,  what  guardian  god  ftiall  guide- 
Through  this  perplex-ing  path  ? 
Here  walks  wan  Want,  with  giant  ftride, 

And  here  Defpair  and  Death. 
In  woe's  wild  windings,  lucklefs  loft, 

The  fruitlefs  fearch  I  drop-?— 
She  dwells  not  on  this  dreary  coaft ; 

No  happinefs  I  hope. 
The  gods  no  fairer  fortune  give 

I'll  blefs  the  breeze  that  blows  ; 

*  In  December  1769,  the  flip  arrived  at  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  from  whence  it  faiUd  foon 
after,  but  was  never  heard,  of  afterward:.  It  it 
generally  fuppofed  to  have  taken  fire^  and  that  ail 
the  crew  periflxit. 

E  e  iiij 


THE   \70RKS    OF 


And  fpend  the  ling'ring  life  I  live 
In  friendihip  with  my  woes. 

With  Want,  I'll  fpeak  of  former  days; 

With  Death,  of  blifs  above  ; 
But,  with  Defpair,  I'll  wond'ring  trace 

The  lucklels  lot  of  love. 

ELEGY  XXXIX. 
FATE,    when  you  forc'd  me  from  the  weeping 

maid, 

Patient  I  bare  it,  nor  did  once  repine  : — 
*'  Although  depriv'd  of  love's  folace,  (I  faid), 
The  facred  joys  of  friendfiiip  (hall  be  mine. 

"  Above  each  trifling  wiib,  each  low  concern, 
In  peaceful  folitude'a  untrodden  path, 

With  virtuous  Damon  wifdom's  ways  I'll  learn, 
And  coolly  wait  the  timely  ftroke  of  death." 

'«  Grant,  while  I  live,  the  convene  of  my  friend, 
And,  O,  be  few  the  days  I'm  doom'd  to  live." — 

Such  was  my  pray'r,  in  lowlinefs  of  mind, 
No  greater  boon  I  alk'd  the  gods  to  give. 

In  vain  I  pray'd,  my  woes  were  not  complete, 
Nor  yet  the  cup  of  mifery  was  crown'd  ; — 

Poverty  lurk'd  in  folitude's  retreat, 

And  pufh'd  me,  ling'ring,  from  the  hallow'd 
ground. 


Where  (hall  I  wander  ?  to  what  diftant  fliore. 
Where  friendihip'sheav'nly  radiance  never  (hone, 

Carry  this  woe-worn  carcafe,  never  more 
To  feel  its  influence  as  I  have  done  ? 

What  generous  hand  will  point  me  out  the  dome 
Where  independence  and  each  virtue  dwell  ? 

Through  India's  fultry  regions  (hall  I  roam, 
Or  cow'r  contented  in  the  hermit's  cell '. 

Vain  is  the  fearch :  for,  who  will  condefcend 
To  guide  the  wand'rings  of  a  wretch  fo  mean  ! 

Reilore,  kind  Heav'n  !'  my  bed,  my  only  friend, 
And  let  want  fweep  me  from  the  puzzling  fcene. 

ELEGY  XL. 

BENEATH  this  mofiy  oak's  embow'ring  fliade, 
Where    Clyde    majeflic    rolls    his    lengthen'd 
ftream, 

I've  found  a  feat  for  tender  forrow  made, 

On  which  the  fun  ne'er  died  one  genial  gleam. 

Hail,  gentle  genius  of  this  mournful  bow'r  ! 

Who  mingles  tears  with  ev'ry  plaintive  gueft  ; 
Say,  did  you  ever,  by  your  friendly  pow'r, 

Serene  the  paffions^of  fo  lad  a  breaft  ? 

^ay,  fkill'd  in  woes  which  ancient  lovers  bare, 
Lovers  to  black  oblivion  long  confign'd  ; 

Can  all  their  complicated  ills  compare 
With  my  unmingled  mifery  of  mind  ? 

When  future  lovers  (hall  lament  their  fate, 
Beneath  the  fliadow  of  this  aged  tree, 

The  difmal  (lory  of  my  woes  relate. 

They'll  ceafe  to  forjow  when  they  think  of  me 
' 


Tell  them,  Eliza  was  my  earlieft  love ; 

Tell,  how  my  humble  paffion  /he  repay 'd; 
When  lawlefs  ruffians  rufh'd  into  the  grove, 

And  forc'd  to  diftant  climes  the  haplefs  maicL 

Then  onward  lead  them  to  yon  hillock's  height, 
VVhofe  grafi   long-t«mklii>g   drinks   the    lulleu 
wave. 

And,  weeping,  bid  the  verdant  turf  lie  light. 
And  plant  the  wat'ry  willow  round  my  grave. 

So  may  they  all  efcape  my  tiaielefs  end, 
And  never,  never,  my  misfortunes  feel  ; 

Ne'er  lofe  a  miftrefs, — ne'er  lament  a  friend, — 
Nor  bare  their  bol'oms  to  the  fatal  fteel. 

ELEGY  XLI. 

FAREWELL,  companions  of  my  fecret  fighs, 

Love-haunted  dreams,  and  vales  beiprcnt  with 
dew  ! 

Per.five,  I  fea  the  ridgy  hills  arife, 

Which  mult  for  ever  hide  yuu  from  my  view. 

\  fleeting  fliadow  was  my  promis'd  peace, 
The  bafelefs  fabric  of  a  dream,  my  reft  ; 

I  laid  me  down  in  confidence  of  eafe, 

And  meedieis  forrow  burlt  my  bleeding  bread. 

See,  yonder  fleets  the  vifionary  fcheme, 
The  fond  illufion  of  a  fimple  mind— 

The  fWeets  of  lore,— the  folitary  dream, 

The  fragrant  meadow,  and  the  whilpering  wind. 

Say,  my  Eliza,  was  it  fancy'd  blifs 

You  us'd  to  picture  by  yon  falling  rill  ? 

O,  fay,  where  is  it? — muft  it  end  in  this? 
O,  flill  deceive,  and  I'll  believe  you  ftill ! 

Say,  fortune  yet  has  happier  days  in  ftore  ; 

Days  big  with  tranfport,  and  with  raptures  new,; 

0  !  fay  I'm  your's  ;  I  afk,  I  hope  no  more  j 
But  only  fay  fo,  and  I'll  think  it  true. 

But  whither  wanders  my  diftemper'd  brain, 

On  feas  of  fancy  and  vagary  toft  ? 
Before  me  lies  a  bleak  extended  plain, 

And  love  aud  rapture  are  forever  loft. 

ELEGY  XLII. 

TO  M1P.A. 

KNEELING  before  the  Majefty  of  Heav'n, 
For  gilded  roofs  my  prayer  never  rolef 

1  afk'd  no  fertile  field's  delicious  fruit, 

Nor  bent  a  wifli  to  all  a  Florio  plows, 

With  thee  to  (hare  the  calmer  joys  of  life, 
On  thy  Colt  bofom  wear  my  age  away  ; 

And  timely  tott'ring  on  the  verge  of  fate, 

Look   back   with  pleafure  on  each  well-fpent 
day. 

I  alk'd  no  more :— Of  what  avail  tome 
The  tranfient  honours  of  a  fleeting  hour; 

The  cumb'rous  trappings  of  a  large  eftate, 
The  painted  hanging,  and  the  marble  floor  ? 

Can  riches  blunt  the  dreadful  dart  of  pain; 

Or  check  misfortune  in  her  mid  career  ? 
Dilpel  the  terrors  of  approaching  fate  ; 

Or  (hatch  their  owner  from  the  mournful  bier?. 


ELEGIES. 


44* 


Let  want  cxpofe  me  to  the  world's  contempt, 

And  poverty  in  all  her  rags  invcft  ; 
Return,  —  and  let  the  fooliih  world  defpife  } 

Return,  —  in  i'pite  or"  poverty  I'm  blefc. 
If  Heav'n,  averfe,  rejedl  my  earneft  pray'r, 

And  fortune  fix  me  in  thefe  diitant  plains, 
,Ceafe,  ceafe,  dread  fitters  1  your  ungrateful  toil, 

And  burn  the  lucklefs  thread  that  yet  remains. 

ELEGY  XLIII. 

TO  MIRA. 

In  the  Manner  e 


WHT,  Mira  '.  why  thisufelefs  wafte  of  time? 

To  round  your  naiis  with  artificial  care, 
To  fmear  your  lovely  locks  with  fulfome  grime, 

And  add  falfe  ringlets  to  your  gloffy  hair  ? 
The  irlclbme  talk  of  meditating  drefs, 

Each  f;icrifice  to  fafliion's  labour  loft  ; 
The  more  you  drive  to  pleafe,  you  pleafe  the  lefs, 

When  unadorned,  then  adorn'd  the  mcft. 
Let  the  ftale  virgin,  with  cofmetic  art, 

To  wonted  bloom  the  faded  cheek  reftore; 
In  gorgeous  garments  ftrive  to  gain  a  heart, 

Who  dares  not  truft  her  native  beauties  more. 
Rouge,  and  falie  ringlets  certainly  were  meant 

For  cheeks  turn'd  yellow,  and  for  locks  turn'd 

gray; 

The  fringed  petticoat,  to  hide  within't 
A  leg  that's  clumfy,  or  a  foot  that's  fplay. 

Some  hoary  beldam,  in  the  natal  hour, 

Mumbled  her  incantations  o'er  your  head  ; 

Some  bekfam,  (kill'd  in  every  iimple's  pow'r, 
That  grows  unnoted  in  the  vernal  mead. 

I  wrong  your  facred  beauties,  and'profane 

Their  mylHc  energy  to  raife  defire  ; 
Yes,  magic  1'pells  and  potent  herbs  were  vain, 

Your  native  charms,  without  enchantment,  fire. 
Come,  Mira  !  come,  while  in  your  beauty's  pride 

Indulge  to  love;  away  with  meaner  things; 
Jn  raptures  loft,  in  love's  embraces  ty'd, 

How  filly  grandeur,  and  the  wealth  of  kings'. 
Let  driv'lling  dotards  buy  the  (lately  dame, 

To  watch  the  foibles  of  declining  years  ; 
To  wipe  with  duteous  hand  the  ropy  phlegm, 

And  ft  rap  the  flannel  cov'ring  round  their  ears. 
To  liften  flceplefs  to  the  midnight  moan, 

Requires  a  jointure,  and  a  rich  reward  ; 
And  lay  what  fettlement  can  e'er  atone 

For  the  grulT  violence  of  a  grifly  beard  ? 
But  to  enclafp  the  polifli'd  limbs  of  youth, 

To  (hare  the  Secrets  of  a  tender  brealt, 
Where  every  thought  isconftancy  and  truth, 

And  each  wifh  rifes  to  make  Mira  bleit  ! 
Sublimer  happinefs  can  titles  yield  ? 

Can  wealth,  or  grandeur,  greater  meed  beftow  ? 
Unbias'd  nature  Scorns  the  blazon'd  field, 

And  ev'ry  finer  feeling  anfwers,  No, 

ELEGY  XLIV. 

WHILE  fad  I  ftray  in  folitary  grief, 

Where  wild  woods  thicken,  ar.d  wh«fe  waters 
flow; 


$o  hone  prophetic  minifters  relief, 

Nor  thought  prefaging  mitigates  my  woe. 
The  difmal  profpect  thick'ning  ills  deform, 
Black,  and  more  black,  each  coming  day  ap. 

pears  ; 
Remov'd  from  Shelter,  I  expect  the  ftorm, 

And  wait  the  period  of  deceitful  years. 
Soon  may  it  come  : — and,  O.  may  Mira  foon 

Forget  the  pleafures  (lie  has  left  behind  ; 
All  that  at  firft  her  virgin  graces  won, 

And  all  that  fince  engag  d  her  youthful  mind. 
What  is  Alexis?  what  hisboafted  love> 

The  banks  of  Medwan,  and  the  vales  around? 
But  a  fair  bluubm  in  the  dreamer's  grove, 

That  fudden  links,  and  never  more  is  found. 
Yes,  yes,  dear  maid  !  the  happinefs  of  youth 

Is  but  the  rev'ry  of  a  real  dream ; 
We  catch  delufions  in  the  guife  of  truth; 

A  lover's  raptures  are  not  what  they  Seem, 
But  yet  a  little,  and  the  eye  of  age 

Diilblves  the  phantoms  to  their  native  air; 
A  new  creation  opens  on  the  fage, 

Another  puflion,  and  another  fair. 
Forgive  my  weaknefs,  for  'tis  furcly  weak, 

To  teach,  and  yet  defpife  the  prudent  part; 
I  feel,  alas !  1  feel  it  as  I  fpeak ; 

This  is  a  language  foreign  to  my  heart. 
Her  rigid  k&ure  realbn  reads  in  vain,         ' 

Cold  are  her  precepts,  and  her  comforts  cold; 
I  would  not  barter  poverty  and  pain 

For  Clodio's  wifdom,  or  for  !•  brio's  gold. 
One  only  boon  is  all  I  aik  of  thee; 

When  in  the  manfion  of  the  peaceful  plac'd, 
O,  do  not  fhed  one  precious  tear  for  me, 

But  let  my  forrows  in  oblivion  reft ! 
As  in  the  bofom  of  unwater'd  wilds) 

A  lowly  lily  languifhes  unfeen, 
And  focn  to  drought,  unknown,  unnoted,  yields, 

Leaving  no  traces  that  it  once  had  been. 

ELEGY  XLV. 

YE  dreams  of  blif's,  and  flatt'ring  hopes,  that  wont 

With  momentary  joy  to  eafe  my  care, 
Where  are  ye  now  ?  and  what  is  your  amount  ? 

Vexation,  disappointment,  and  defpair. 
Well  pleas'd,  I  faw  your  airy  bubbles  blown, 

Seemingly  fair,  and  dcck'd  with  many  a  ray; 
But,  lo !  the  tempefi:  role,  and  they  were  gone, 

Broke  and  evauiih'd.  in  a  (ingle  day. 

Peace,  bafe-born  wifhes,  fprungfrom  felfifh  pride* 

Will  fete  reverie  her  pofitive  decree? 
Yon  hill  divides  us,  and  will  ftill  divide, 

Nor  bend  its  lordly  brow  to  pleasure  me. 
Yes,  far  beyond  yon  hill's  afpiring  height, 

Which,  to  the  orient,  bounds  our  utmoft  view, 
Where  other  ftrcams  refkd:  the  morning-  light, 

And  other  mountains  are  array'd  in  blue  ; 
Mira  now  liftcns  to  the  midnight  knell, 

By  little  rills  that  mimic  Medwan's  flow; 
And  bids  fublimely  fad  the  fpinet  fwell, 

The  folemn  notes  of  Sympathetic  woe. 
Enough,  dear  maid!  to  constancy  and  love. 

To  tender  parents lurely  Something's  due; 
]  Let  others  taite  the  joys  1  cannot  prove, 

The  happy  man  whom  fortune  means  for  ye*. 


44* 


THE  WORKS   OF  GRAEME. 


O  !  bring  not  down,  with  unavailing  tears, 
Their  hoary  heads  with  forrow  to  the  grave ; 

Let  not  thy  grief  afflict  the  full-of-years, 

But  grant  the  grandfon  whom  they  juftly  crave. 

One  thought  is  all  I  afk ;  if  marriage  vows, 
And  jealous  Hymen,  fhall  admit  of  one ; — 

One  only  thought, — in  mem'ry  of  my  woes, 
One  thought,— in  pity  of  a  wretch  undone ! 

ELEGY  XLVI. 

SAT,  have  I  fworn  deceitfully  to  heav'n, 

Or  yet  profan'd  the  deities  of  love  ? 
Has  one  injur'd  me,  and  not  been  forgiv'n 

Or,  want  neglected,  drawn  the  wrath  of  Jove  ? 

If  fo,  let  years  in  painful  penance  paft, 

And  midnight  pray'rs  the  grievous  fin  atone  ; 

My  youthful  ftrength  let  pining  ficknefs  wafte, 
And  tort'ring  aches  prey  on  ev'ry  bone. 

But  fpare,  O  fpare,  the  lovely  guiltlefs  maid  ! 

Why  mould  fhe  fuffer  for  another's  fault  ? 
Is  this  the  duj  of  matin  prayers  paid, 

Of  pureft  piety,  and  untainted  thought  ? 

The  dire  difeafe  deforms  each  lovely  limb, 
Death's  pallid  yellow  overfpreads  her  face; 

Vain  are  my  vows;  for  what  can  foften  him, 
The  unrelenting  butcher  of  the  race  ! 

Farewell,  dear  maid  L  again,  again,  farewell ; 

Nor  doubt  thy  lover  will  furvive  thy  death : 
One  fatal  hour  fhall  ring  our  folemn  knell, 

One  grave  fhall  hold,  one  turf  fhall  cover  both 

ELEGY  XLVII. 

TO    MJRA. 

BY  the  remembrance  of  our  fecret  joys, 
And  all  the  hallow 'd  myfteries  of  love ; 

Thy  blooming  beauties,  and  unfully'd  fame, 
The  rolling  river,  and  the  confcious  grove; 

Forgive  my  fears,  from  too  fond  paflion  fprung, 
Nor  blame  thy  lover,  if  he  dares  complain — 

The  wonted  favours  you  deny  me  now, 
Are  they  not  laviffi'd  on  a  richer  fwain  ? 

When  prideful  Florio  exulting  boafts 

His  lowing  herds,  that  blacken  all  the  lea, 

Numbers  his  boundlefs  {lores  ;  is  he  receiv'd, 
Or  heard  with  cold  civility,  like  me  ? 

Shook  by  difeafe,  you  late  defponding  lay, 

Wan  was  your  cheek,  and  hollow  was  your  eye 

Relenting  Heav'n  beheld  my  pious  grief; 
A  lover's  grief  is  grateful  to  the  fky : 

Straight  on  your  cheek  the  faded  rofes  bloom'd, 
Your  wither'd  eye-balls  fudden  moifture  lav'd  ; 

And  fhall  another  riot  on  thefe  charms, 

Poffefs  thefe  beauties  which  my  piety  fav'd  ? 

Think  not,  falfe  maid  !  Alexis,  unaveng'd, 
Will  bear  the  pangs  of  ill-requited  love  ; 

O  !  timely  fhun  the  Wafting  curfe  of  Heav'n  ; 
An  injur'd  lover  has  a  friend  above. 

"Why  check  that  tear,  reprefs  that  fwelling  figh  ? 

Hail,  happy  omens  of  my  future  bh'fs ! 
Flow,  quicker  How,  ye  fweet  repentant  tears ! 

Ye  cannot' flow  fo  faft  as  I  can  kift. 


ELEGY  XLVIII. 

TO    MIRA. 

ND  were  the  fond,  the  tender  things  you  faid, 
Your  vows,  confirm'd  by  ev'ry  pow'r  above, 
'he  mimic  raptures  of  a  longing  maid, 
To  wafte  the  tedious  intervals  of  love  ? 

A7hen,  warmly  wanton,  round  my  neck  you  hung, 
For  fawning  Florio  was  the  favour  meant  ? 

Twas  iajur'd  I  the  mournful  harp  that  ftrung; 
But  fell  yon  tear  becaufe  of  my  complaint  ? 

rhe  winning  mufe  I,  haplefs !  woo'd  in  vain ; 
Afcrib'd  to  Florio  was  the  melting  lay ; 
tili'd  in  forrow,  and  I  fow'd  in  pain, 
A  foreign  hand  the  harveft  fwept  away. 

Ungrateful  maid !  for  thee,  with  wakeful  care, 

I  plann'd  the  pleafant,  elegant  retreat ; 
ror  thee  the  lowly  cottage  did  prepare, 
That  might  eclipfe  the  dwellings  of  the  great. 

As,  hand  in  hand,  we  left  its  hazel  bourne, 
This  was  defign'd  our  walk  at  early  dawn ; 

•Sere,  fweetly  fings  the  linnet  from  the  thorn, 
And  mazy  Medwan  laves  the  lilied  lawn. 

Difmally  fhaded  with  furrounding  yews. 

And  lonely,  rifes  Florio's  Gothic  dome  ; 
With  dead  men's  bones  each  walk  the  fexton  {trews, 
And  ev'ry  profpeft  beckons  to  the  tomb. 

8ut  if  fuch  fcenes  to  Mira's  eyes  are  fair, 
If  fuch  the  paths  her  feet  delight  to  tread, 

Defpis'd  Alexis  will  attend  her  there, 
Perhaps  fo  happy  as  to  pleafe  when  dead. 

ELEGY  XLIX. 

TO    MIRA. 

IF  you  in  fancy's. ever-blooming  fcenes, 

Contemplative  of  future  grandeur,  rove, 
EJelighted  gaze  on  Florio's  wide  demefnes, 

And  blufh  to  recollect  an  humbler  love  ; 
'Twere  rude,  dear  maid !   to  break  the  golden 
dream, 

To  fweep  the  gaudy  equipage  away ; 
Sully  the  maffy  plater's  filver  gleam, 

Or  grind  the  China  to  its  native  clay. 
Be  far  from  me  th'  invidious,  cruel  tafk, 

To  point  the  flaws  which  fancy's  colours  hide !. 
Too  foon  experience  will  remove  the  mafk, 

And  fhow  the  nafcednefs  of  pompous  pride. 
But  if  you  cherifh  in  your  faithful  bread, 

The  pleafing  memory  of  former  days, 
Kindly  recel  each  facred  promife  paft, 

And  only  fate  our  happinefs  delays  : 
My  willing  mufe  fhall  fpeed  the  tedious  hour, 

And  cheer  your  folitude  with  pious  care  ; 
At  noon  attend  you  in  the  woodland  bow'r, 

And  add  frefh  fragrance  to  the  ev'ning  air. 
Still  true  to  virtue,  let  us  fhun  the  bait 

That  from  her  paths  would  tempt  our  fteps  aftray ; 
Still  for  a  favourable  iffue  wait, 

And  through  each  difficulty  edge  our  way. 
Misfortune's  waves  may  overwhelm  a  while, 

But  buoyant  virtue  will  emerge  at  laft ; 
The  time  advances  that  rewards  our  toil, 

And  blots  from  memory  the  forrows  paft. 


ELEGIES. 


443 


ELEGY  L. 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  ALEXIS. 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

WIDE  o'er  the  windings  of  the  fliadowy  vale, 
Silence  afar  extends  her  lonely  fway  ; 

Save  where  the  weft  wind  whilpers  to  the  gale, 
Or  fans,  with  downy  wing,  the  dewy  fpray. 

Save,  where  refponfive  to  the  blackbird's  note, 
The  bower  of  echo  murmurs  to  the  grove, 

And  the  hoarfe  raven  pours  her  boding  throat, 
As  through  the  gloom  her  milling  pinions  rove. 

Save,  where  foft  warbling  on  the,  hawthorn  fpray 
The  nightingale  does  to  her  grid"  give  vent ; 

And  the  icar'd  owl  on  lazy  pinions  grey, 

Slow-failing,  makes  her  querulous  complaint. 

JLed  by  the  light  of  Vefper's  twinkling  urn, 

That  gilds  the  pale  gloom  gathering  o'er  the  Ikies; 

My  lonely  fteps  to  thefe  lov'd  fcenes  return, 
While  low  in  earth,  my  loft  companion  lies ! 

Here,  broader  fpreads  the  lowly  creeping  thyme, 
Here,  fairer  lilies,  frefher  daifies,  grow  ; 

Here,  fprings  the  pride  of  Flora's  flow'ry  prime, 
Blue  hare-bells  bud,  and  purple  vi'lets  blow. 

And  here,  the  willows  weave  a  thicker  (hade, 
And  here,  the  hawthorns  wear  a  whiter  bloeni; 

And  milder,  o'er  the  many-colour'd  mead, 
The  bloffom'd  furze  exhales  a  fragrant  fume  ! 

Kard  by  the  ftream, — that  down  its  winding  way, 
Frequent  has  led  his  mufing  fteps  along ; 

That  heard  the  mufic  of  hig  carlieft  lay, 
And  with  its  murmurs  melodiz'd  his  fortg! 

Hard  by  the  ftream, — within  this  leaf-lin'd  grot, 
Where  clearer  by,  the  cryftal  waters  creep ; 

I've  found  the  feat  Alexis  frequent  fought, 
Slowly  defcending  from  yon  upland  fteep. 

Hail,  hallow'd  feat !  fo  lonely  and  ferene  ! 

Sequefter'd  ftream,  and  verdant  valley,  hail '. 
Still  may  the  willow  grace  your  windings  green, 

And  ftill  the  hawthorn  whiten  o'er  your  dale. 

Fpr  oft,  on  Medwan's  willowy  banks,  the  fire 
Of  daedal  fancy  has  infpir'd  his  fong ; 

And  oft  the  facred  veh'mence  of  his  lyre 

Haschas'd  the  white- wing'd  minutes  fwift  along. 

Though  now  no  naiad  trace  this  green  retreat, 
Nor  fairy  footftep  mark  this  mazy  way ; 

At  eve's  chafte  hour,  I'll  feck  his  hallow'd  feat, 
And  wafte  in  penfive  thought  the  clofe  of  day. 

Though  fancy  on  my  eye  her  fairy  field, 

Fraught  with  the  fweets  of  fong,may  not  unfold; 

Sorrow  reftrain  the  mufe's  rovings  wild, 
And  melt  to  languor  down  her  ardour  bold ; 

Out-ftretch'd,  beneath  this  willow-woven  fhade, 
In  flaunting  pride  unprofitably  gay, 

Mem'ry  will  wake  the  white-wing'd  minutes  fled 
And  point  each  fpot  where  mufiijg  late  he  lay. 

Still,  ftill,  unweary'd,  wander  o'er  and  o'er 

Each  haunted  walk,  and  long-frequented  fcenc ; 
And,  true  to  friendfliip's  never-venal  lore, 
'  Pour  fondly  forth  one  tributary  ftrain  J 

Yes,  Medwan  !  yes,  along  thy  lengthen'd  vales 
Winding  and  wild,  I'll  mark  thy  mazes  dear; 


And  while  thy  banks  and  f\vee"ffequefter'd  dales 

Swell  on  my  fight,  I'll  drop  one  tender  tear, 
or  here  his  foot  has  now  forgot  to  ftray, 

In  love-lorn  mazes  winding  fweetly  wild  ; 
io  fedge-crown'd  naiad  liftens  to  his  lay, 

Melodious  warbled  o'er  th'  accuftom'd  field. 
While  op'ning  youth  rcveal'd  each  manly  grace, 

Flufh'd  the  plump  cheek,andfprcad  the  vermilhue, 

ave  the  rapt  eye  with  glowing  warmth  to  trace 

Life's  fair  inchanting  profpects  full  in  view  ; 
Uprofe  difeafr;  and  rofe  with  afpe<St  wan, 

Confumption,  flow,  refiftlefs,  and  fevere ! 
Swift,  as  (he  role,  each  flatt'ring  profpeft  ran,— 

And  left  me  difappointment's  bitter  tear  ! 
It  nought  avail'd,  that  virtue  gave  him  worth, 

That  genius  deign'd  her  eye-enlight'ning  ray; 
Or  Mira  led  his  frequent  footftep  forth, 

Where  woven  willows  fringe  the  wat'ry  way  ! 

I  faw  him  fink!  I  faw  him  yield  his  breath, 

Stretch'd  in  yon  lone  cot's  dim-difcover'd  fliadc ! 

And ,  like  the  fwain  who  dies  a  vulgar  death, 
Low  in  yon  church-yard  green  I  faw  him  laid! 

I  faw  a  mother  clofe  his  eye  to  reft ! 

I  faw  a  fifttr  ftretch  him  on  the  bier  I— 
Still  the  remembrance  ruihes  on  my  breaft, 

And  widow'd  friendfliip  drops  another  tear! 

And  fure,  when  youth  is  fnatch'd  from  fame's  fair 
meed,  [glow. 

Friendfliip's  foft  warmth,  and  love's  congenial 
And  in  the  narrow  grave  untimely  laid, 

A  figh  fhould  murmur,  and  a  tear  fhould  flow. 
With  uncouth  rhime,even  I  may  deck  the  fod  ; 

With  honeft  grief  even  I  may  wet  the  bier ; 
And  oft,  where  fleeps  the  learned  and  the  good, 

Give  humble  verle,  and  drop  the  tender  tear. 
The  widow'd  turtle  oft  is  hezlrd  to  mourn 

Her  haplefs  confort's  melancholy  fate ; 
And  oft  the  plaintive  blackbird  droops  forlorn, 

In  the  lone  fhade,  and  does  her  grief  relate. 
Yes,  my  Alexis !  while  to  me  'tis  giv'n 

On  life's  lorn  way  to  wander,  and  to  weep! 
Ere,  due  to  fate,  defcends  the  hand  of  heav'n. 

To  clofe  my  lids  in  everlafting  fleep : 

Oft  will  my  feet  at  morn's  returning  dawn, 

With  duteous  fteps  to  thy  fad  urn  repair, 
And  fweep  the  dew-drops  from  each  haunted  la  wj\, 

In  fond  remembrance  of  a  friend  fo  dear  ! 
Oft  by  the  margin  of  this  lonely  ftream— 

What  time  meek  twilightbrings  thefolemn  hour; 
Mindful  of  thee!  I'll  fit,  in  wayward  dream, 

And  oft  thefe  melancholy  mufings  pour- 
Short  is  the  date  to  youthful  hope  afugn'd ! 

Swift  is  the  hour  to  daedal  fancy  due ! 
To-day  we  fold  an  heart-dividing  friend,— 

To-morrow  mourn  him  ravifh'd  from  our  view! 

Hear  this,  ye  young,  and  truft  your  hopes  no  more,— 
Though  flufh'd  with  health  each  rofeate  feature 
bloom — 

With  hafty  lapfe  fome  fleeting  years  are  o'er, 
And  lo !  we  (lumber  in  the  filent  tomb  ! 

Hear  this  ye  proud, — and  ponder  as  ye  hear.— 
Though  your  light  hearts  now  leap  with  tran« 


.444 


THE    WORKS    OF   GRJSME. 


Though  now  ye  wanton  in  your  bright  career, — 
Alike  we  fuffer, — and  alike  mufl  die ! 

Youth's  tow'ring  hope,  and  learning's  copious  ftore, 
Pride's  thought  fublime,  and  beauty's  kindliug 

bloom ; 

Serve  but  to  fport  one  flying  moment  hour, 
And  grace  with  fhort-liv'd  verfe  the  frequent 
tomb. 

Inclin'd  to  error,  mortals  ftill  miftake, 

Kxpecling  folid  happinefs  below ; 
Made  drunk  at  fancy's  feaft,  we  fl-cp,  and  wake 

From  vifioriary  blifs,  to  real  woe. 

ELEGY    1,1. 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MISS  MARGARET  GREY*. 
BY  ROEERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

TH»  mufe,  erc-while,  who  penfive  ftrains  effay'd, 
Sigh'd  as  fhe  fung,  and  rov'd  the  deep'ning  fhadc, 
O'er  death's  dread  empire  cafl  a  mournful  view, 
And  rnark'd  the  dying  groan  Alexis  drew; 
With  weary  wing  again  purities  her  flight, 
Where  death's  dim  fhadows  float  in  eudlefs  night, 
And,  foftly  fighing,  as  fhe  fends  her  eye 
O'er  the  lone  fpot  where  Stella's  relics  lie, 
Stoops,  weakly  hov'ring,  o'er  the  awful  fcene ; 
Yon  yew,  wild-waving  o'er  the  glimm'ring  green, 
Where  circling  fods,  in  decent  order  laid, 
Now  hide,  for  ever  hide,  the  hallow'd  dead ! 
Yes,  pcnilve  mufe  !  indulge  another  tear  ! 
The  durt  of  gentle  Stella  moulders  here  ! 
Grac'd  with  each  gift  the  gayer  world  admires, 
Beauty  that  warms,  and  elegance  that  fires; 
Adorn'd  with  all  that  milder  worth  can  give, 
That  lore  which  teaches  how  to  love  and  live  ! 
Good  nature,  fmiling  with  unclouded  eye ; 
Religion,  pointing  to  her  kindred  fky, 

*  Djvobitr  of  "John  Grey,  Efn.  of  Alnivicl,  in  Nor 
thumberland,  if  the  fatr.ily  of  Hoii'ic!:,  dijlingitijbed  by 
fhe  military  fervices  of  Sir  Charles  Grey,  K.  B.  and 
the  conftiiittiwal  principles,  and  parliamentary  eloquence, 
ef  bis  fan  Cbailes  Grry,F.fq,  M.  P.  She  diidcf  a  ctn- 
Jumption,  December  16.  1773,  *""  ''''"  *5'^  year  °f  her 
tgc.  Her  mother,  the  eldefl  daughter  of  James  Sc  oft,  Efq. 
ef  Almi-ick,  ager.t  to  the  Date  ef  Northumberland,  died 
JMay  21.  1773.  Her  onlyfrfter,  Anne,  -was  married  tt 
Dr.  Anderfur,  Sef>t:mber  2J.  1/77,  and  died  of  a  con- 
jilmpiicn,  Bectxibtr  2J.  1785,  in  tit  3<)tb  year  of  ber 
age i  having  (tree  daughters ;  tii'oof  tcl;c;x.  Aim e-'vLir- 
faret,  end  Marker*  t-Si~f.innab,  \etfurvil>t.  Wbentbc 
life  ii'bicb  made  bis  t7i«  life  fLafant,  ims  tit  an  ?nd,  and 
*thc  gaits  of  death  ;!ofed  upon  bit  prrj~p<.cl;,hffought  a  -vain 
relief  from  his  mifiry,  by  compojsng  the  long  digrtfjli-; 
"  Monody  to  the  intmory  of  a  Beloved  W:fe"  mentioned 
in  tb:  "  Life  of  Langborne."  The  lofs  of  a  friend  en 
ivhom  tie  heart  was  fixed,  to  -whom  every  ivija  and  en 
deavour  tended,  is  ajlate  in  ivkich  the  mind  looks  abroad, 
impatient  of  itfelf,  and  finds  nothing  but  e&.pti::.'/s  and 
torrtr.  Ttf  blamelefs  life,  the  artlefs  tenJarnef, ,  the 
modeji  rcfignation,  the  patient  ftcinefs ,  end  the  quiet  death, 
arc  remembered  only  to  add  value  to  tkt  !tfi,—ta  ay>ra- 
•vate  regret  for  -what  cannot  be  repaired, — to  deepen  for- 
l 'Oiv  for  "what  cannot  be  recalled.  'Tlie  dead  cannot  return, 
and  nothing  is  left  us  here,  but  languijbment  and  grief  i 

c;  Uxorera  vivanjamare  volupt3s,defun(5tamreligio." 


Taftc,  unafham'd  at  virtue's  flirine  to  bow ; 
Love,  undilhiay'd  with  friendfhip's  fires  to  glow ; 
.Stnfe  without  pride,  and  prudence  without  art, 
The  fofteft  bofom,  and  the  kindefh  heart ! 
Behold  her  now,  in  youth's  delightful  morn, 
From  life's  fair,  flo  w'ry,  flatt'ring  profpects  torn  ;— 
Stretch'd  where  lone  filence  haunts  the  folcmn 

yew, 
And  tufted  grafs  waves  wet  with  bakfu!  de\v  ! 

How    fleet    is    life !    how    fraii    this    boailei 

breath ! 

In  op'ning  youth  invades  the  biaft  of  death ! 
We  flourifh  like  the  vernal  foliage,  blown 
By  the  warm  influence  of  a  nearer  fun ; 
A  while  we  bafk  in  fpring's  enliv'ning  ray, 
And  in  fweet  indolence  imbibe  the  day; 
Anon  we  fall !  and  ere  the  fummer  fun 
The  fhort-liv'd  glory  of  our  youth  is  gone  ! 

Avails  it  ought,  ye  filler-beauties !  fay, 
To  l:ad  the  dance,  and  chant  the  fprightly  lay  ? 
AvaHs  it  ought  to  boaft  fupcrior  grace, 
The  fparkling  eye,  the  ruby-tiniSur'd  face  ? 
Can  charms  like  thefe  prolong  the  parting  breath, 
Soothe  aching  pain,  or  flop  the  flroke  of  death  ? 
Ah  !  no — though  virtue,  innocence  and  truth, 
Improv'd  thefe  charms,  and  flufh'd  the  bloom  of 

youth ; 

Though  fweeteft  manners,  gentleft  arts  combin'd, 
Rul'd  ev'ry  grace,  and  ev'ry  grace  refin'd ; 
Confumption  flow  extinguifh'd  nature's  fires, 
And  Stella's  felf  in  cruel  pangs  expires! 

Vain  is  the  hope  to  ward  the  deflin'd  blow, 
That,  undiilinguifti'd,  lays  the,  lovelieft  low ! 
All,  all  nnift  number  with  the  filent  dead, 
O'er  ev'ry  eye  be  mortal  darknefs  fpread ! 
All  Hoop  to  moulder  in  one  common  duft, 
Who  charm  but  little,  or  who  charm  the  moft ! 
Death,  hov'ring  round,  prevents  with  nimble  dart, 
The  bloom  of  beauty,  and  the  pride  of  art ! 
Stops  the,  foft  cadence  of  the  tuneful  tongue, 
And  treats  alike  the  poet  and  the  fong ! 

Ye  weeping  pair  !  whofe  breafts  are  doom'd  t« 

know 

The  burli  of  anguifh,  and  the  figh  of  woe ! 
Reftrain  your  grief  !  — though   furc   to  grief  ia 

giv'n 

A  decent  meafure  from  indulging  Heav'n  :— 
A  mother's  pang,  a  filler's  parting  tear, 
Suit  Stella's  doom,  and  grace  her  fun'ral  bier.— • 
But  figlis  that  wild  from  plaintive  bofoms  flow, 
Tears  that  diftil  from  long- indulged  woe, 
Arraign  the  rule  of  all-dire&ing  Heav'n, 
To  whom  ye  owe  that  Stella  once  was  giv'n  ! 
Know,  all  its  ways  are  righteous,  good,  and  wife^ 
Though  uridifcern'd  by  mortals'  darken'd  eyes! 
Nor  think  unwelcome  fped  the  fatal  dart, 
That,  heav'n-dircded,  fhuck  at  Stella's  heart; 
For,  not  to  Stella  gloom'd  that  mournful  day, 
That  tore  her  from  your  weeping  eyes  away  ! 
Believe  the  mufe,  who  borne  on  faith'sbrightwings, 
Beheld  the  viiionary  fcene  fhe  fings : 
Soon  as  her  foul  forfook  the  cumbrous  clay, 
Burfl  into  air,  and  foar'd  anfeen  away, 
Attendant  feraphs  led  her  upward  flight 
From  earth's  low  orb,  and  fcour'd  the  fhades  of 

night ; 

Before  her  bright  unbarr'd  the  fhining  feats, 
Where  wlutc-rob'd  mercy  guards  the  golden  gates  j 


X  L  E 

Unveil'd  to  view  the  ever-blooming  bow'rs, 
Where  faints  and  feraphs  hymn  the  niptur'd  hours : 
«  Go  to  the  mild  and  good,"  th'  Almighty  faid, 
The  mild  and  good  embrac'd  the  fainted  maid  ! 
Now  hymning  high,  (he  joins  th'  angelic  throng, 
Who  pour  wi'th  rapture  forth  th'  eternal  fong, 
And  fainted  choirs,  who  mix  their  grateful  lays, 
With  harpings  high  of  everlafting  praife. 


G  I  E  S.  44* 

This  verfe  be  thine !  lamented  maid!  receive 
The  laft  fad  tribute  that  the  mufe  can  give! 
The  mufe,  who  once  infpir'd  with  fprightlier  pow'r, 
Sung  livelier  lays,  and  checr'd  your  languid  hour! 
Now  weak  of  wing,  and  nnprepar'd  to  fly 
Where  fancy  fteers  her  tow'ring  flight  on  high, 
Broods,  fondly  hov'ring,  where  your  alhes  reft, 
And  bids  the  turf  lie  lightly  on  your  breaft. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


A  NIGHT-PIECE. 

To  fpeed  the  lucklefs  moments,  heavy-wing'd, 
And  from  the  drowfy  monarch  glorious  fteal, 
And  dark  oblivion  drear,  the  filent  hour, 
To  meditation  facred  and  the  mufe  ; 
In  grave  abftraclion  from  the  noiieof  life, 
Thus  let  me  frequent  brufh  the  dewy  brake, 
And,  lonely  devious,  urge  the  darkfume  ftep. 
Where,  rifing  gradual,  tow'rs  the  fhrubby  hill. 

Now,  night's  vicegerent,  filence,  awful  pow'r  '. 
In  fage  folemnity,  and  pomp  aitguft, 
Brooding,  retir'd  amid  immantling  glooms 
Horrific,  holds  her  folitary  reign, 
While  yielding  nature  owns  her  potent  fway. 

The  fcold's  loud  'larnm,  and  the  dinfome  mirth 
Of  lawlefs  revellers,  plague  not  the  ear  : 
And  rock-born  echo,  daughter  of  the  hill, 
The  dupe  of  empty  clangour,  anfwers  not 
The  ox's  bellow,  or  the  horfe's  neigh. 

Not  one  rebellious  murmur  wide  around 
Affects  the  fenfe  ;  favefrom  an  aged  fane 
(Whofe  rocky  ruins,  honour'd  in  decay, 
Rife  venerable,  furr'd  with  drawling  flags), 
Her  lone  retreat,  the  melancholic  bird 
Portentous  and  obfcene,  the  hooting  owl 
Of  formal  phiz,  in  grave  difcordance  hails 
'   The  full-orb'd  moon,  who  now  from  orient  climes 
Drives  flowly  on,  in  majefty  fedate, 
Her  filver  wain;   with  noifelefs  flight  they  cleave 
The  blue  expanfe,  her  courfers  eagle-wing'd. 
Shook  from  night's  fable  fkirt,  the  blue-gray 

cloud 
Refts  on  the  hill,  flow  creeping  fo  the  vale. 

Athwart  the  vault  etherial,  airy  borne, 
The  dreamy  vapouvs,  carv'd  to  giant  forms 
£y  rural  fancy,  playful,  wheel  convolvM, 
Portending  hunger,  peftilence,  and  death  : 
So  dreams  the  gloomy  peafant,  labour-worn, 
Who,  from  the  turf-clos'd  window's  fcanty  round, 
With  grave  regard  the  novel  wonder  views, 
And,  ruminating  fad,  bewails  the  times. 

The  red-blue  meteor,  daughter  of  the  marfh, 
In  dance  irreg'lar  fweeps  the  rufhy  vale, 
While  hell's  grim  monarch  (fo  the  vulgar  deem), 
Rides  in  the  glimm'ring  blaze,  with  purpofe  drear, 
And  murderous  intent,  and  frequent  drown* 
The  heedlefs  wand'rer  in  the  fwardy  gulf. 

Now  light-heel'd  fairies  ply  the  circ'lar  dance 
With  fportive  elves,  upon  the  midnight  green  ; 
While  fcreaming  hideous,  from  the  difrnal  bourne 
Of  defeated  caftles,  goblins  pak>, 


bloody  and  gaunt,  the  progeny  abhorr'd 

Of  fiiperftition,  heli-engender'd  pow'r, 

5y  cunning  mon':s  conjur'd  from  loweft  StyX, 

Affright  the  maudlin  ruflic  !— Now  folemn. 

To  fancy's  morbid  eye,  the  fullen  ghoft,      [ftalk?, 

^n   Iheeted    grandeur    through   the   church-yard 

horrendous,  mutt'ring  to  the  fick'ning  moon  ; 

Until  the  bird  of  Mars  with  noify  clap, 

Arroufive  of  the  dawn,  (hall  crow  aloud. 

Now  fcandal's  votaries,  of  flippant  tongue 
And  haggard  look,  low-bending  o'er  a  fire, 
Almoft  extinct,  beneath  a  cloud  obfcene, 
Tobacco-form'd,  fit  planning  future  lies. 

With  bolts  and  double  doors  in  vain  fecur'd, 
Gray-headed  av'rice  on  the  elbow  rais'd, 
Diltruftful  liftens  to  the  plaintive  breeze 
That  howls  without,  while  to  his  jealous  ear 
A  dire  divan  of  hellifh  ruffians  curs'd 
Debate  the  future  breach  :  mad  at  the  thought, 
With  palfy'd   arms,  new-ftrung  from    fear,    he 
grafps  ['em. 

His  money-bags,  and  fwears  they  fhall  not  have 

Now  in  his  rev'rend  ftudy,  cobweb-lin'd, 
Befide  a  paly  lamp,  with  bitten  nails, 
The  meagre  ftudent  o'er  a  folio  fits 
Of  fageft  bulk,  in  meditation  deep  : 
Weak  nature  oft  invites  to  fweet  repofe, 
And  bids  reftore  thelabour'd  volume  huge 
To  worms  innate  ;  but  o'er  his  fancy  come 
The  patron's  money'd  aunt,  his  future  fpoufe,. 
The  glebe,  the  folemn  fables,  cravat  ftarcb, 
And  urge  fome  pages  more  ;  till  rufhing  prone 
The  clafllc  cruife,  in  haplefs  flation  plac'd, 
In  fragments  fcatter'd  lies,  and  victor  fleep 
His  triumph  trumpets  from  the  vocal  nofe. 

Now.by  the  willow'd  brink  of  wand'ringftreamsj 
The  woe-worn  lover  walks  with  varied  pace, 
Mutt'ring  his  wayward  fancies  to  the  wind, 
Obtelting  heav'n,  and  curfing  ev'ry  ftar 
That  lowr'd  malicious  on  his  hopeful  flame  : 
Or  in  a  mofs-lin'd  cave,  below  an  oak 
Of  ancient  growth,  he  plans  the  fong  of  woe, 
The  word-weigh'd  elegy  of  liquid  lapfe, 
And  cadence  glib:  or,  weary'd  to  repoie, 
His  figh-fliook  frame  lies  blisfully  entranc'd 
(For  fo  he  dreams),  in  fair  Cleone's  arms. 

ABRA".     A  FRAGMENT. 
I  SOUGHX  repofe  from  love's  perplexing  cares, 
Hisgroundklshopes,andftillmoregroundlefsfe4rs; 

*  See  Prior' t  Salomon. 


446 


THE   WORKS   OF   GRAEME, 


The  lufcious  nights  \vith  Zion's  monarch  pad, 
In  ipite  of  ev'ry  art  grew  Itale  at  laft, 
I  long'd  in  folitude  to  doze  the  day, 
Nor  lang-uifliingly  dull,  nor  vainly  gay  ; 
Now  in  grave  contemplation  ftrive  to  fcan    • 
That  charming,  teazing,  froward  creature,  man  ; 
And  now  with  dancing  damfels  plant  a  net 
Before  the  unfufpeifling  monarch's  feet ; 
For  ftill  (whate'er  I  thought),  my  tender  bread 
In  filent  fighs  too  warm  a  love  expreft  ; 
Still  too  much  fervour  wanton'd  in  my  blood, 
To  act.  with  rigour  the  affected  prude. 

But  bent  my  fond  indulgent  fpouie  to  vex 
(For,  come  what  will,  we  wives  mult  have  our 

freaks), 

To  Sharon's  pleafant  palace  I  retir'd, 
Of  thcufands  admirable,  moft  admir'J  ; 
Tyre's  daedal  fons,  with  learned  wonder  gaze, 
And  almoft  deify  the  dome  they  raife  ; 
The  humble  Hiram  fcarce  will  own  his  plan, 
Content  to  be  a  mafon  and  a  man : 
On  ev'ry  fide  extends  a  verdant  mead, 
With  all  the  charms  of  various  nature  fpread  : 
Here  ftrays  a  limpid  ftream,  whole  mazy  courfe, 
Is  mark'd  with  willows,    fragrant   flirubs,   and 

flow'rs ; 

And  there,  in  diftant  perfpective  arife, 
Groves,  caftles,  mountains,   mingling  with   the 

Ikies; 

The  nice  proportion,  and  the  chafle  defign, 
May  charm  an  artift's  eye,  but  charm'd  not  mine ; 
'Twas  Ophir's  jewels,  and  Arabia's  fweets, 
That  lifted  Sharon  o'er  a  thoufand  feats  ; 
"Whatever  pamper'd  females  hold  moft  rare,       ~J 
Of  all  th*  advent'rous  merchant  brings  from  far,  > 
A  gallant  monarch  joy'd  to  place  it  there.          J 

On  the  embroider'd  couch  myfelf  I  flung, 
Inviting  fleep,  furrounding  daml'els  fung  ; 
Be  rural  peace  and  innocence  the  theme, 
Left  love  ( faid  I),  ufurp  my  coming  dream. 
Obedient  to  my  voice  at  once  they  raife, 
In  choir  confenting,  their  harmonious  lays: 
Now   white-rob'd  candour,    and    his  blithfome 

peers, 

O'er  temperance's  cup  forget  their  years ; 
Forget  each  wayward,  frowning  fortune  paft, 
And  thank  juft  Heav'n,  that  will  reward  at  laft. 
Now  healthy  labour,  and  his  ruffet  wife, 
Snatch  the  coarfe  meal,  nor  wilh  a  happier  life, 
Blefs  the  kind  hand  that,  with  affiduous  care, 
Still  crowns  their  table  with  delicious  fare  ; 
Hut  low,  in  gratitude  for  what  they  have, 
To  have  no  iefs,  the  only  boon  they  crave. 
While  now  beneath  a  fpreading  fig-tree's  fhade, 
The  fhepherd-fwain  is  indolently  laid ; 
Sportive  around  his  little  lambkins  play, 
And  all  heav'n's  mufic  warbles  from  the  fpray : 
In  diftant  perfpective  the  wolf  appears, 
Who  drinks  the  pleafing  found,  and  ibftens  as  he 

hears. 

Sleep  that,  unafk'd,  annoints  the  peafant's  eye, 
And  fpreads  his  wings  where  labour's  children  lie; 
At  bafhful  dtftance  Hands,  nor  dares  approach 
The  lufty  lady  on  her  lazy  couch  ; 
In  vain  invok'd  '.  no  fleep,  no  flumber  came, 
To  pour  their  balfam  on  my  weary'd  frame  ; 
Each  various  pofture,  each  device  I  try'd, 
But  in  each  polture  was  repofe  deoy'd ; 


Mad  at  my  fate,  now  here,  now  there,  I  toft, 
ujs'd  the  whole  world,  but  curs'd   royfelf  th* 

moft ; 

?ray'd  fudden  ruin  on  our  race  in  rage, 
>Jor  fpar'd  my  lovely  Solomon  the  fage. 
'  The  fky,  however  clouded,  foon  will  clear," 
Said  Father  David,  that  illuftrious  feer ; 
And,  fays  his  fon,  "  The  moft  impetuous  blaft 
'  Will  fpend  its  fury,  and  fubfide  at  laft." 
So,  after  iwearing,  raving,  all  in  vain, 
What  could  I  do,  but  be — myfelf  again  ? 
My  native  tendernefs  awak'd  in  fighs, 
And  all  the  woman  lighten'd  in  my  eyes  ; 
"  Which  of  thy  daughters,  Zion,  canft  thou  tell, 
"  Detains  that  lover  who  once  lov'd  fo  well  ? 
"  Why  lag  thefe  feet  that  once  outftript  the  wind? 
"  Slow  are  his  fteps  that  leaves  a  heart  behind  : 
"  Who  could  have  thought  he  e'er  would  prove 

"  untrue, 

"  So  firm  the  fanction,  and  fo  great  the  vow  ! 
"  By  Jacob's  God,  the  dreadful  God,  he  fworc, 
"  The  holy  temple,  and  the  myftic  gore  ; 
"  By  David's  throne,  the  Majefty  Divine, 
"  Which  thraugh  all  ages  fliall  adorn  his  line, 
"  Ever  to  love  me,  concubine  or  wife, 

Or  to  be  blotted  from  the  book  of  life. 
"  Rafli  was  the  oath — if  Heav'n  the  forfeit  fpare, 
"  Thy  fpoufe  will  pardon,  and  do  thou  repair ; 
'  A  very  little  will  my  claims  content, 
'  'Tis  no  great  matter  fure — be  complaifant. 
'  How  could,  alas  !  my  iingle  charms  prevail 
'  Againft  the  thoufands  of  thy  great  ferail  ? 
4  But  ftill  one  night,  or  two,  or  more  than  two, 
'  I  may  at  leaft  infift  on  as  my  due." 
Thus  of  feign'd  faifehgods  did  my  tongue  com 
plain, 

While  all  my  heart  was  harrow'd  up  with  pain  ; 
My  troubled  thoughts  ftill  chang'd  from  this  tp 

that, 

I  fear'd,  I  hop'd,  I  wifh'd,  I  knew  not  what : 
But  hark  !  is  this  my  royal  lover's  voice  ?" 
"  Awake,  my  fair  !  my  beft  belov'd,  arife  ! 
"  A  chilly  tremor  o'er  my  frame  is  fpread, 
"  And  night's  unwholefome  damps  are  on   my 

"  head." 

The  well-known  foun  d  went  thrilling  to  my  heart 
Though  ftill  I  meant  to  act  the  prudiih  part ; 
I  ftrove  my  riling  tendernefs  to  hide, 
And  with  affected  coolnefs  thus  reply'd  : 
"  You  come,  my  dear,  at  an  improper  hour, 
"  However  willing,  'tis  not  in  my  pow'r  ; 
"  Indeed  it  is  not — I  have  vvalh'd  my  feet 
"  With  precious  ointments,    and   with   odours 
"  fweet ; 


CURLING. 

FRETTED  to  atoms  by  the  poignant  air, 

Frigid  and  Hyperborean  flies  the  fnow, 

In  many  a  vortex  of  monades,  wind-wing'd, 

Hoftile  to  naked  notes,  dripping  oft 

A  crylhil  humour,  which  as  oft  is  wip'd 

From  the  blue  lip  wide-gafh'd:  the  hanging  fleeve 

That  covers  all  the  wrift,  uncover'd  elfe, 

The  peafant's  only  handkerchief,  I  wot, 

Is  ghz'd  with  blu£-bro\vu  ice.    But  recklefs ftill 


MISCELLANIES. 


Of  cold,  or  drifted  fnow,  that  might  appal 
The  city  coxcomb,  arm'd  with  befoms,  pour 
The  village  youngfters  forth,  jocund  and  loud, 
And  cover  all  the  loch  :   With  many  a  tug 
The  pond'rous  ftone,  that  all  the  Cummer  lay 
UnoccupyM  along  its  oozy  fide, 
Now  to  the  mud  fait  frozen,  fcarcely  yields 
The  wifli'd-for  victory  to  the  brawny  youth, 
Who,  braggart  of  his  ftrength,  a  circling  crowd 
Has  drawn  around  him,  to  avouch  the  feat : 
Short  is  his  triumph,  fortune  fo  decrees ; 
Applaufe  is  chang'd  to  ridicule,  at  once 
The  loofen'd  ftone  give  way,  lupine  he  falls, 
And  prints  his  members  on  the  pliant  fnow. 

The  goals  are  marked  out ;  the  centre  each 
Of  a  large  random  circle  ;  dijlance /cores 
Are  drawn  between,  the  dread  of  weakly  arms. 
Firm  on  his  cramp-bits  ftands  the  fteady  youth, 
Who  leads  the  game  :  Low  o'er  the  weighty  ftone 
He  bends  incumbent,  and  with  niceft  eye 
Surveys  the  further  goal,  and  in  his  mind 
Meafures  the  diftance  ;  careful  to  beftow 
Juft  force  enough:  then,  balanc'd  in  his  hand, 
He  flings  it  on  direct ;  it  glides  along, 
Hoarfe  murmuring,  while,  plying  hard  before, 
Full  many  a  befom  fweeps  away  the  fnow, 
Or  icicle,  that  might  obftruct  its  courfe. 

But  ceafe,  my  mufe !  what  numbers  can  defcribe 
The  various  game  ?  Say,  canft  thou  paint  the  blufli 
Impurpled  deep,  that  veils  the  ftripling's  cheek, 
When,  wand'ring  wide,  the  ftone  neglects  the 

rank, 

And  ftops  midway  ? — His  opponent  is  glad, 
Yet  fears  a  lim'lar  fate,  while  ev'ry  mouth 
Cries,  off  the  bog, — and  Tinto  joins  the  cry. 
Or  couldft  thou  follow  the  experienc'd  play'r 
Through  all  the  myft'ries  of  his  art  ?  or  teach 
The  undifciplin'd  how  to  wick,  to  guard, 
Or  ride  fail  out  the  ftone  that  blocks  the  pafs  ? 

The  bonfpeel  o'er,  hungry  and  cold,  they  hie 
To  the  next  alehoufe  ;  where  the  game  is  play'd 
Again,  and  yet  again,  over  the  jug;  < 
Until  fome  hoary  hero,  haply  he 
Whofe  fage  direction  won  the  doubtful  day, 
To  his  attentive  juniors  tedious  talks 
Of  former  times  ;— of  many  a  borifpeel  gain'd, 
Againft  oppofing  pariflie.s ;  and  foots, 
To  human  likelihood  fecure,  yet  ftorm'd : 
With  liquor  on  the  table,  he  pourtrays 
The  fituation  of  each  ftone.     Convinc'd 
Of  their  fnperior  fkill,  all  join,  and  hail 
Their  grandlires  fteadier,  and  of  iiirer  hand. 


TO  A  FLY. 

LIAVE  this  pale,  this  bloodlefs  cheek, 
Foolifh,  noify,  flutt'ring  thing  ; 

Halle  where  freftier  features  call  thee, 
Flitting  on  thy  azure  wing. 

On  yon  verdant  bank  reclining* 

See  Eliza's  charms  invite, 
But,  content  with  perching  on  them, 

Stop,  nor  cruel  leek  to  bite. 

Safely  fuck  the  pearly  moifture 
On  her  jutting  rofy  lip ; 


447 


ran  nor  handkerchief  oppofe  thee, 
See  the  maiden's  faft  adeep. 

'raughted  with  the  pilfer'd  fragrance, 
Come  and  perch  on  me  again  ; 

'ear  not  on  my  lip  to  faften  ; 
Never  fear,  I  won't  complain. 

Jut  if  ftill  tbou  buzzeft  round  me, 
Quickly,  quickly  thou  (halt  die  ; 

Ahus,  between  my  hands  I'll  crufh  thee, 
An  untow'ring  vulgar  fly. 


THE  STUDENT. 

IEMOTE  from  fchools,   from  colleges  remote, 
n  a  poor  hamlet's  meaneft,  homelieft  cot, 
Vly  earlieft  years  were  fpent,  obfcurely  low ; 
^ittle  I  knew,  nor  much  defir'd  to  know  ; 
Vly  higheft  wiftie*  never  mounted  high'r 
Than  the  attaintments  of  an  aged  fire  ; 
~roverbial  wifdom,  competence  of  wealth, 
iarn'd  with  hard  labour,  and  enjoy'd  with  health, 
Slett,  had  I  ftill  thefe  bleffings  known  to  prize  ! 
More  rich  I  fure  had  been ;  perhaps  more  wife. 

One  lucklefs  day,  returning  from  the  field, 
Two  fwains,  the  wifeli  of  the  village  held. 
Talking  of  books  and  learning,  I  o'erheard, 
Of  learned  men,  and  learned  men's  reward  : 
How  fome  rich  wives,  and  fome  rich  livings  got, 
Sprung  from  the  tenants  of  a  turf-built  cot : 
Then  both  concluded,  though  it  ruin'd  health, 
Increafe  of  learning  was  increaCe  of  wealth. 

Fir'd  with  the  profpect,  I  embrac'd  the  hint, 
A  grammar  borrow'd,  and  to  work  I  went, 
The  fcope  and  tenor  of  each  rule  I  kept, 
No  accent  miis'd  me,  and  no  gender  'fcap'd ; 
I  read  whate'er  commenting  Dutchmen  wrote, 
Turn'd  o'er  Stobxus,  and  could  Suidas  quote  j 
In  letter'd  Gellius  trac'd  the  bearded  fage, 
Through  all  the  windings  of  a  wife  adage  : 
Was  the  fpectator  of  each  honeft  fear, 
Each  fophift  carry'd  from  each  wordy  war; 
Undaunted  was  my  heart,  nor  could  appal 
The  muftieft  volume  of  the  muftieft  ftall ; 
Where'er  I  turn'd,  the  giant-fpider*  fled, 
And  trembling  moths  retreated  as  I  read  ; 
Through   Greece    and    Rome  I  then   obfervant 

ftray'd, 

Their  manners  noted,  and  their  ftates  furvey'd  ; 
Attended  heroes  to  the  bloody  fields, 
Their  helmets  polifh'd  and  emboiVd  their  fluelds  ; 
With  duteous  hand  the  decent  matron  dreft, 
And  wrapp'd  the  {tripling  in  his  manly  veft  ; 
Nor  ftopt  I  there,  but  mingled  with  the  boys, 
Their  rattles  rattled,  and  improv'd  their  toys  ;• 
Lafli'd  conic  turbos  as  in  gyres  they  flew, 
Beftrode  their  hobbies,  and  their  whifUes  blew  : 
But  ftill  when  this,   and   more   than  this,  was 

done, 

My  coat  was  ragged,  and  my  bat  was  brown. 
Then  thus  I  commun'd  with  myfelf :  "  Shall  I 
Let  all  this  learning  in  oblivion  die  ; 
1  Live  in  the  haunts  of  ignorance,  content 
4  With  veft  unbotton'd,  and  with  breeches  rent } 
1  None  knows  my  merit  here  ;  if  any  knew 
A  Icholai's  worth  would  meet  a  fcholw 's  due. 


THE  WORKS   OF    GRyEM-E, 


*"'  What  then  ?     The  college  !    ay,  'tis  there  II 

"  fhine, 

*  I'll  dudy  morals,  or  I'll  turn  divine  ; 
"  Struck  with  my  letter'd  fame,  without  a  doubt 
"  Some  modern  Laelius  will  find  me  out : 
*'  Superior  parts  can  never  long  be  hid, 
*'  And  he  who  wants  deferves  not  be  fed." 
Tranfported  with    the  thoughts  of   this  am 

that, 

I  ditch'd  my  garments,  and  I  dy'd  my  hat ; 
To  college  went,  and  found,  with  much  ado, 
That  rofes  were  not  red,  nor  vi'leu  blue  ; 
That  all  I've  learn'd,  or  all  I  yet  may  learn, 
Can't  help  me  truth  from  falfehood  to  difcern. 

All  mere  tonfufion,  altogether  hurl'd, 
One  dreary  wade,  one  vad  ideal  world  ! 
Where  uproar  rules,  and  do  you  what  you  will, 
Uproar  has  rul'd  it,  and  will  rule  it  dill. 
Victorious  ergo,  daring  confequence, 
Will  ever  be  a  match  for  common  fenfe  ! 
To  lordly  reafon  ev'ry  thing  mud  bow, 
The  hero  liberty,  and  confcience  too; 
The  firft  is  fetter'd  in  a  fatal  chain,- 
The  latter,  gagg'd,  attempts  to  fpeak  in  vain. 
Locke !     Malebranche !    Hume !     abftractions 

thrice  abftract ! 

In  reafon  give  me  what  in  fenfe  I  lack; 
I  feel  my  poverty,  and,  and  in  my  eye, 
My  hat,  though  dy'd,  has  but  a  dufky  dye, 
"  Midruft  your  feelings,  reafon  bids  you  do."— 
But,  gentlemen,  indeed  I  cannot  now  ; 
For  after  all  your  ergons,  look  you  there  ! 
My  hat  is  greafy,  and  my  coat  is  bare. 

Hail  moral  truth  !  I'm  here  at  lead  fecure, 
You'll   give   me  comfort,  though  you  keep  me 

poor. 

Bat  fay  you  fo  ?  in  troth  'tis  fomething  hard, 
Virtue  does  furely  merit  a  reward. 
"  Reward!  O,  fervile,  felfifh;   afk  a  hire  !" 
Raiment  and  food  this  body  does  require: 
A  prince  for  nothing  may  philofophize, 
A  fhvlent  can't  afford  to  be  fo  wife. 

Sometimes  the  Stoa's  gloomy  walks  I  try'd, 
Wrinkled  my  forehead,  and  enlarg'd  my  dride, 
T)efpis!d  cv'n  hunger,  poverty,  and  pain, 
Searching  my  pockets  for  a  crud  in  vain. 
Sometimes  in  Academas'  verdant  fliade 
With  itep  more  graceful  I  exulting  dray'd, 
Saw  health  and  fortune  join'd  with  happiuefs, 
And  virtue  fmiling  in  her  focial  drefs ; 
On  me  fhe  did  not  fmile,  but  rather  lour  ; 
I  ftill  was  wretched,  for  I  dill  was  poor. 

Sworn  to  no  mailer,  fometimes  1  would  dwell 
With  Shaftefbury,  fometimes  with  Mandeville  ;. 
Would  Call  at  ev'ry  fydem  on  my  wav, 
And  now  with  Leibnitz,  now  with  Manes  ftay  ; 
iBut  after  all  my  (hiftings  here  and  there. 
My  hat  was  greafy,  and  my  coat  was  bare. 
Then  I  beheld  my  labours  pad,  and  lo  J 
It  all  was  vanity,  and  all  was  woe  ; 
I  look'd  on  Learning,  and  her  garb  was  mean, 
Her  eyes  were  hollow,  and  her  cheeks  were  lean; 
Difeafe  and  famine  threaten'd  in  her  train, 
And  want,  who  drives  to  hide  her  rags  in  vain ; 
Her  lurid  brow  a  fprig  of  laurel  brac'd, 
Oa  which  was  auurk'd/  Unpen£on'dandvmplac'd.' 


I  turn'd  to  Ignorance';  andlcJ !  (he  fa^f 
Enthron'd  beneath  a  canopy  of  date ; 
Before  her  riches  all  his  bags  unty'd. 
And  ever  and  anon  her  wants  fupply'd, 
While  on  a  foiiling  plentitude  efface, 
Was  clearly  read,  "  Apention  and  a  place,'* 


A  FRAGMENT. 

THE  world  was  all  before  me  where  to 
I  fcorn'd  the  fhelter  of  a  vulgar  houfe. 
So  well  affur'd  (aflur'd  I  was)  each  door 
Was  open  to  receive  the  learn'd  and  poor  ; 
But  none  (alas  \  I  felt  it,  for  I  try'd) ; 
My  learning  -«alu'd,  or  my  wanti  fupply'd 
Here  ftar'd  grim  poverty,  pale  famine  there, 
Whet)  love  and  Mira  fav'd  me  from  defpair. 
Chas'd  the  lean  phantoms  from  my  frighted  mind, 
While  all  was  love  and  gratitude  behind, 
Extinguish 'd  hope  rekinkled  in  my  bread, 
And  maudlin  reafon  rav'd  at  fancy's  feaft ; 
Ages  before  it  dwindled  to  a  day, 
And  blifs's  barriers  felt  a  fwift  decay  ; 
Whatever's  dear  and  valuable  in  life, 
The  lifping  infant  and  the  loving  wife, 
Were  all  contracted  to  a  moment's  fpaee, 
And  ev'ry  one,  that  precious  moment  was: 
To  perfect  happinefs,  ideal,  grew, 
And  vague  futurity  was  chang'd  to  now. 
Then  faid  I,  in  the  fullnef*  of  my  foul, 
".  No  grief  fliall  fway  me,  nor  cliftrefs  controul,- 
"  Here,  will  my  forrows  find  eternal  paufe ; 
"   Here,  am  I  free  from  fortune  and  her  laws; 
"  A  fource  of  joy  within  myfelf  I  find, 
"  And  fureiy  fortune  cannot  change  my  mind-; 
;t  This  blifs  (hall  comfort  me  when  all  is  gone, 
'*  So  intellectual,  fo  all  my  own." 

O,  loft  to  wifdom  !  to  experience  loft  ! 
Fortune  fways  all,  but  fways  the  paffions  mod; 
On  foreign  dainties  live  the  beggar  train, 
The  mean  dependants  of  a  mobHe  fcene  ; 
Now  triumphs  this,  now  that  again  prevails, 
As  fortune  i"wells,or  does  not  fwell  our  fails  ; 
And  who  would  make  them  fubject  to  the  mind. 
May  fet'ter  torrents,  or  may  rein  the  wind.  , 

"  What !''  cries  fome  Stoic  of  the  awful  brow, 
Who  dreams  he  conquers — when  he  never  knew— 
"'*  Are  not  the  paflions  fervants  to  my  will  ? 
'  This,  I  may  fpare,  and  that  I  too  may  kill ;          ^ 
'  May  raife  the  feeble,  and  may  curb  the  ftrong." 
^0  doubt !  and  charm  the  deaf  man  with  a  fong/ 
Vain,  foolifh  fage  !  (a  fage  can  have  no  gall)  ; 
Vaunt  not  your  vicYries,  apathy  does  all ; 
3orn  without  feeling,  never  did  you  feel ; 
Great  the  phyikian,  who  the  whole  can  heal  f 
*         »         *         *         * 

For  me,  I  afk  no  philofophic  face, 
antent  to  be  the  various  thing  I  was  j 
To  be  in  each  extreme,  and  each  excefs, 
ometimes  of  mifery,  fometimes  of  blifs : 
^ow  calmnefs  all,  now  altogether  toft, 

fhelter'd  from,  now  driven  by  the  blaft ; 
>Jow  in  poffeffion  of  my  Mira's  charms, 
Sow  rudely  ravim'd  from  her  longing  arms, 
uch  I  have  been,  but  fuch  no  more  will  be; 
At  length  fafe  landed  from  the  raging  fca? 


MISCELLANIES. 


My  days  in  one  nnbroken  tenor  flow, 

Each  the  true  picture  of  another's  woe  ; 

No  room  for  hope,  no  remedy  for  care, 

All,  all  is  i'wallow'd  up  in  deep  defpair  ! 

Yet  not  from  me  the  mighty  change  did  fpring, 

I  neither  impt  nor  cropt  his  eagle  wing  ; 

'Twas  fortune  firft  gave  hope  her  darling  flight, 

Then  brought  her  headlong  from  the  giddy  height; 

Bade  fky-blue  hills  around  the  maid  afcend, 

And  pride's  ftrong  bulwarks  ev'ry  where  defend. 

*         *         #         *         # 
O,  heav'nlr  goddefs !  not  that  wanton  dame, 
Who  blindly  fcatters  beauty,  wealth,  and  fame  ; 
But  thou,  (whoe'er  thou  art),  whofe  eye  furveys, 
And  human  aclions  yet  in  embryo  weighs, 
Whofe  boundlefs  wifdom  ftill  the  belt  intends, 
By  fitted -means^ffecting  fitted  ends; 
Level  each  rock-huilt  barrier,  and  remove 
Whatever  mars  the  fuccefs  of  my  lore: 
But  if  thou  feeil  it  good  to  vex  me  ftill, 
O,  grant  fubmiffion  to  thy  holy  will ! 
To  human  weaknefs  human  crimes  tranflate, 
And  nature  from  rebellion  feparate ; 
So  fhall  my  hopes  frefh' vigour  yet  attain, 
Rife  to  new  heights,  and  never  fink  again. 

RONA: 

IMITATED  FROM  OSS1AN. 

"  THE  noife  of  war  is  on  the  breeze, 

"  And  can  Hidallan  ftay  ? 
"  My  foul  is  in  the  ftrifc  of  fhields — "      « 

He  fpoke,  and  burft  away. 

O  !  where  fhall  Morna's  maid  repofe, 

Till  heroes  have  their  fame  ? 
On  Morna's  filent  hill  of  hinds, 

Or  by  its  rufhy  ftream  ? 

But  what  if  in  the  hour  of  blood 

The  lovely  hero  fall  ? 
While  fome  dark  warrior  hangs  his  fhicld" 

A  trophy  in  his  hail ! 

Leave,  {lumber  !  leave  the  eye  of  tears, 

Forfake  my  limbs,  repofe  ! 
Lean,  love -born  maidens!  from  your  clouds, 

And  aid  me  with  your  woes. 

Fair  was  Hidallan,  as  the  flow'r 

That  d.yes  the  dufky  heath ; 
But  rail':  not,  bards !  the  mournful  fong 

Around  his  If  one  of  death. 

How  tell  the  hero  ?  In  his  might, 

Amid  his  growing  fame  !  » 

Not  feeble  w.is  Hidallan's  foe, 
His  fword  a  meteor's  flame. 

No  more  fliall  Morna's  hall  rejoice, 

The  feuit  of  ilidls  be  fpread  ; 
The  fighot  Kona'sfecret  foul, 

In  death'*  dark  houfe  is  laid. 


t  on  Rona  from  your  cloud, 
The  rolling  of  your  reft  ! 
Not  weak,  Hidul'.an  !  was>  my  fire, 
No  fear  difturb'd  his  breall. 

Jn  aged  Cairbar's  lonely  hall, 
The  ftrife  of  hetoes  rofe ; 
VOL.  XI. 


His  was  Rivine's  ftolen  glance, 
And  many  were  his  foes. 

In  ftrength  he  grafp'd  his  fword  of  fire, 

The  ftoutefr.  ftarted  back  -. 
Not  weak,  Hidallan  !  was  my  fire, 

Nor  is  his  daughter  weak. 

Ah  !  whither  rolls  thy  airy  hall  ? 

The  Iky  its  blue  refumes; 
Her  father's  fword  prepares  the  cloud, 
On  which  thy  Rona  comes. 

TO  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D^ 

WHILX  fome,  in  all  the  luxury  of  health, 

The  pride  of  pleafure,  and  the  pomp  of  wealth, 

Inglorious,  rous'd  at  paflion's  frantic  call, 

SoLik  o'er  the  bowl,  or  madden  at  the  ball, 

Triumph  illiberal  o'er  the  fimple  maid, 

By  love,  or  promife,  to  their  arms  betray 'd ; 

Some  painted  trifle  with  anxiety  chafe, 

Or  wallow  fulfome  in  the  lewd  embrace, 

By  foul  debauch  and  worthlefs  feats  fecure, 

Remorfe. vindictive  in  the  fober  hour; 

The  grave  affociate  of  the  good  and  fage, 

Or  nerv'd  with  youth,  or  filver'd  o'er  with  age; 

Through  giddy  life  you  urge  your  fteady  way, 

While  confidence  cheers  the  night  and  glads  the 

day; 

In  vain  afiail  the  vanities  of  youth, 
You  mark  their  pregrefs,  and  you  check  theic 

growth, 

From  learning  all  its  formal  pride  remove, 
Guard  cheating  friendfhip,  fetter  ftubborn  love. 
O  !  ceuld  I  thus  th'  impetuous  pafllons  crulh, 
Stifle  the  figh,  and  curb  the  fecret  wifh; 
By  reafon's  fway  this  love  of  felf  controul, 
This  blaze  of  youth,  and  impotence  of  Ibul; 
Reprefs  tHe  frothy  infolence  of  fame, 
The  figh  that  heaves  for  an  immortal  name  ; 
I  would  not  reftlefs,  midnight  vigi's  keep, 
Nor  from  my  pillow  drive  encroaching  fleep; 
To  the  tenth  ftanza  elegies  prolong, 
Nor  clothe  my  woe  in  all  the  pomp  of  fong  ; 
With  joylefs  ftep  an  airy  prize  purl'ue, 
Which  mocks  my  grafp.  yet  glitters  in  my  view; 
Admire  a  virgin  wnom  I  fee  no  more, 
Hills  rife  between  us,  and  deep  waters  roar, 
And,\vorfe  than  flreams  and  mountains, Itill  divide, 
The  daughter's  piety,  and  the  father's  pride. 

ON  ENVY. 

TO  ROBERT   ANBSRSON,  M.  D. 


YOU'RE  right,  my  friend: — I'll  alk  no  lo 
Whence  our  forrow,  whence  our  woe  ? 

'Tis  envy  : — yes,  you  do  not  wrong  her, 
All  our  ills  from  envy  flow. 

Young  ladies,  at  the  playhoufe  fhining, 
Seem  the  happieft  beings  there, 

But  yet,  at  home,  they  fit  repining, 
At  one  faiicr,  or  as  fair. 

The  hall  when  powder'd  chaplains  vifit, 
Ruflies  ftreaming  at  their  breafl, 

Each  fhabby  fludent,  fighing,  fees  it, 
And  concludes  the  puppies  bjeit. 


THE   WORKS   OF   GRAEME. 


But  mark  them  in  the  nurs'ry  moping ; 

Prefentations  fire  their  brain  ; 
The  hale  incumbent's  long  a-dropping ; 

Waiting-women  footh  in  vain. 

The  modeft  bard,  whofe  num'rous  numbers, 
Draw'rs  and  trunks  from  critics  fcreen  ; 

What  can  break  his  midnight  flumbers  ? 
Writers  in  the  Magazine. 

-Why,  let  him  be  the  man  he  envies, 

Weekly  fpread  his  oily  odes ; 
Yea,  let  no  critic  ftrictly  canvafs, 

Zephyrs,  meads,  or  groves,  or  gods. 

Say,  fleeps  he  found  ?  or  needs  he  poppy  ? 

Something  does  his  brow  engloom ; 
He  ftill  is  wretch'd. — and  who  is  happy  ? 

Beattie,  Ogilvie,  or  Home  ? 

Away,  ye  whining  felf-tormenters  !— 

Come,  ye  fons  of  meek  content ! 
Whofe  bofoms  envy  never  enters, 

Clown,  philofopher,  or  faint : 

And  lead  me  to  her  hermit  dwelling, 

Lonely,  fure,  the  matron  dwells ; 
Far  from  peevifh,  raving,  railing, 

Poets,  ftudents,  beaux,  or  belles. 

From  the  happy  number  dafti  me ; 

Frie,nd  !  you  find  I'm  envious  too  ; 
What !— not  believe  I'm  envious!— blefs  me  ! 

Don't  you  fee  I  envy  you  ? 

S©NG. 

A  GIRL  that  is  fenfible,  lovely,  and  rich, 
Might  ev'n  claim  a  poor  poet's  refpect ; 

But  ugly,  the  ignorant,  pennylefs  b — 
He  at  leaft  may  defpife  and  neglect. 

What  though  at  the  table  his  linen  be  foul, 
And  his  hair  briftle  up  like  a  brufh ; 

In  his  rat-peopled  room  he's  a  refolute  foul, 
And  values  no  mifsling  a  rufli. 

What  though  he  ftiould  be  but  an  afs  at  a  bow, 
And  what  though  he  bow  not  at  all ; 

Full  many,  1  wot,  that  can  bow  them  full  low, 
Are  neither  fo  wife  nor  fo  tall. 

Some 

An< 

But  I'll  lay  you  the  odds,  would  he  leave  but  his 
books, 

She  would  laugh  at  her  lover  in  lace. 

The  fober  grave  matron,  that  peeps  o'er  her  fpects, 
And  js  fliock'd  at  the  duft  on  his  flioes ; 

Would  flic  caftbutan  eye  on  her  own  yellow  cheeks, 
Never  more  would  (he  do  as  flie  does. 

Fy,  for  (hame,  Mrs.  Harridan  !  how  can  you  talk 

Of  a  manner  fo  fine,  fo  genteel ! 
Who  the  deuce  would  not  duft  all  his  flioes  in  a 
walk, 

To  avoid  the  damn'd  clack  of  a  mill ! 

A  truce  with  your  merriment,  gentlefolks  all ! 

That  filly-like  lad  that  you  fee, 
Has  oft  rais'd  a  laugh  in  an  handfomer  hall,    ' 

O'er  a  cup  of  far  better  than  tea. 


:  pert  little  monkey  may  laugh  at  his  looks, 
id  many  fneer  at  the  length  of  his  face : 


Though  his  phiz  be  fo  formal,  fo  mute  be  his 
tongue, 

He  can  fpeak,  and,  nay  more,  he  can  fmile  ; 
As  wife  as  your  wifeft  has  hung  on  his  fong, 

And  a  fairer  embrac'd  him  the  while. 

Shorten  not  your  dear  nofes,  my  ladies !  in  fcorn, 
He  has  kifs'd  lips  as  ruddy  as  yours; 

Yes,  though  they  were  frefh  as  the  midfummer 

morn, 
And  array 'd  in  the  glory  of  flow'rs. 

"Some  juicy  young  milk-maid,  the  pride  of  the  fold, 
The  toaft  of  fome  ale-drinking  ring:" 

Nay,  ftop  till  you  hear  all  her  merits  be  told ; 
She  could  curt'fy,  could  dance,  and  could  ftng. 

Forgive  me,  Eliza !  yes,  you  can  forgive, 
Though  I  praife  you  for  what  you  defpife ; 

The  foft  gracesthat  breathe  in  your bofom, and  live, 
They  have  not,  and  how  can  they  prize  ? 

Was  it  not  for  Eliza,  the  rigour  of  fate 
W  ould  foon  bow  me  down  to  the  grave ; 

Alexis  is  loft,  if  Eliza  forget, 
He  is  loft,  for  fhe  only  can  fave. 


TO  MISS 


Thrice,  lovely  Sylvia !  faireft  of  the  fair ; 

Fond  Damon's  favourite,  and  the  mufe's  care  ! 

Propitious  hear ;  nor,  blooming  maid !  complain, 

To  find  unequal  to  your  praife  my  ftrain. 

With  eafe  I  paint  the  mazy  prattling  rill, 

The  woods  and  tow'rs  that  crown  the  craggy  hill; 

The  various  blofToms  that  adorn  the  fpring ; 

But  Sylvia's  charms  what  raptur'd  youth  can  fing  ? 

What  {training  bard  exalt  his  daring  aim, 

In  juft  proportion  to  his  lovely  theme  ? 

Your  beauties  crowd— which  firft  fliall  grace  my 

fong, 

Your  blufliing  cheeks,  or  pretty  lifping  tongue  ? 
Thofe  bluftiing  cheeks  where  modeft  charms  gam^ 

bol; 

That  lifping  tongue,  which  fteals  the  raviQi'd  foul; 
Your  brow  fmooth  polifh'd,  or  your  bofom  fair, 
Or  flowing  trefles  of  your  filveT  hair  ? 
Your  ftiapely  leg,  or  ftill  more  fliapely  thigh, 
Or  the  mild  radiance  of  your  luft'rous  eye  ? 

Shall  1  ranfack  the  grave  for  blooming  maids  ? 
For  glowing  virgins  fearch  th*  Elyfian  ftiades  ? 
Roufe  from  dark  night  the  bright  Laconian  dame ; 
Or  the  chafte  object  of  Apollo's  flame  ? 
Can  Spartan  Helen,  Daphne,  bluftiing  fair ! 
With  thee  in  charms  or  modefty  compare  ? 
No ;  let  them  reft  conceal'd  from  mortal  view, 
In  all  but  fame  -inferior  to  you ; 
Nor  long  in  that,  if  flowing  numbers,  fave 
From  blue  oblivion,  and  the  duflcy  grave; 
If  wit  and  worth  diftinguifti'd  honours  claim, 
And  heav'nly  ftiape  entitle  maids  to  fame. 

Shall  I  bring  down  from  Atlas'  fliady  height, 
Where  bleft  immortals  wanton  in  delight, 
Where  ne<3ar  circles  as  the  thund'rer  nods; 
The  happy  fair  that  charm  the  happy  gods  ? 
Expofe  to  fight  the  ruddy  Cyprian  queen, 
With  graces  dancing  oa  th'  enamel! I'd  green ; 
Bid  chafte  Diana  ftalk,  with  maiden  pride, 
Athwart  the  lawn,  with  quiver  by  her  fide, 
Her  virgin  trefles  floating  loofe  behind, 
Kifs'd  by  each  gale,  And  rais'd  by  ev'ry  wind  j 


MISCELLANIES. 


Bid  all  that's  grave,  majeflic,  noble,  wile, 
Beam  forth  effulgent  from  Minerva's  eyes  ? 
Stamp  female  grandeur  on  Queen  Juno's  brow  ? 
On  Hebe's  cheek  difplay  the  role's  hue  ? 
Vaiu  were  the  care — for  not  the  queen  of  love, 
Or  fitter-wife  of  all-controuling  Jove  ; 
Or  flie  that  ftately  fcours  the  graffy  plain, 
And  counts  her  days  by  fpotted  lynxes  flain ; 
Or  flie  that  pours  (when  gods  expand  their  foul) 
Tfee  fparkling  nectar  from  the  copious  bowl; 
Or  fhe  that  dares  paternal  thunder  wield, 
And  urge  the  chariot  through  the  martial  field ; 
Or  equal  worth,  or  equal  beauty,  fliare 
With  thee  all-lovely,  all-accomplilh'd  fair  ! 

But  why  in  vain  produce  my  tortur'd  rhyme, 
Abnfe  your  patience,  and  confume  your  time  ? 
One  fingle  verfe  wiil  better  paint  your  charms, 
You,  only  you,  are  worthy  Damon's  arms. 

1767. 

TO  MISS  E B . 

EASY  to  learn  the  flatt'rer's  artful  tale, 

Learn  the  foft  phrafe  that  fooths  the  fimple  ear  ; 

Of  all  its  beauties  ftrip  the  flow'ry  vale, 
In  honour  of  the  maid  we  hold  moft  dear: 

Suns  might  with  eafe  be  liken'd  to  your  eyes, 

And  either  breaft  a  marble  pillar  rife. 

But  would  Eliza  liften  to  the  lay, 

Read,  blufhlcfs  read,  what  others  might   ad 
mire; 
Own  the  weak  folly,  wafti  its  faults  away, 

Warm'd  with  the  wildnefs  of  a  lover's  fire ; 
No,  rather  would  you  fcorn  the  varnifh'd  tale, 
"  Equal  to  moft,  you  want  not  to  excel." 


45* 


WHAT  foftnefs  of  numbers,  what  fweetnefs  of 
fong, 

What  thoughts  that  are  handfome  and  pretty, 
Can  juftly  defcribe  all  that's  lovely,  and  young, 

And  all  that  tranfports  me  in  Betty. 

The  leaft  of  her  beauties  what  figure  can  fit ; 

What  compare  with  her  ringlets  fo  jetty ! 
What  then  can  be  faid  of  the  goodnefs.the  wit, 

Of  the  graces  and  virtues  of  Betty  ? 

I  look'd  on  the  virgin,  and  wander'd  no  more 
Through  the  delicate  dames  of  the  city  ; 

Becaufe,  all  I  fought  for,  and  vatu'd  before, 
Was  entire  and  complete  in  my  Betty. 

If  ever  I  ferv'd  you  in  purenefs  of  heart, 
Ye  fupreme  and  fubordinate  deities ! 

Health,  pleafure,  and  peace,  to  the  maid  ftill  im 
part; 
For  my  life  is  bound  up  in  my  Betty's. 

TO  MISS  M M 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,   M.  D. 

POETIC  art,  with  mimic  tints,  may  trace 
Each  brighter  beauty  blooming  on  thy  face ; 
Give  to  the  dazzling  verfe,  or  glowing  lay, 
Graces  that  warm  us  with  a  fainter  ray. 
Yet,  what  prefumptuous  imitative  art 
May  trace  one  beauty  breathing  in  thy  heart ; 


Awake  thefe  graces,  that,  in  modelt  guife. 
Charm  ev'n  unknown,  and  ravifti  by  furprife, 
Give  all  their  fweetuefs,  all  their  tender  eafe, 
In  equal  numbers  eqi^al  pow'r  to  pleafe  ? 
Boldly  they  dare  description's  foftelt  lay, 
Borne  on  the  wings  of  wonder  far  away  ; 
O'er  all  the  bounds  that  mark  the  mufes1  reign, 
Nourifh  their  rapture,  or  infpire  their  (train. 

SONG. 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

THE  tongue  of  the  witty,  the  eyes  of  the  fair, 
And  the  pride  of  high  damfels  may  plague  you  ; 

Nor  pert,  nor  affected,  nor  prudifli  her  air, 
But  modeft  and  free  is  my  Peggy. 

Refin'd  fenfibility  brightens  her  looks, 
Smiles  dwell  on  each  delicate  feature  ; 

Her  language  is  plain,  not  the  language  of  books, 
But  the  language  of  truth  and  good-nature. 

Ye  frowning  pretenders  to  virtue  fevere, 
Ye  fubduers  of  paflions  that  drag  you  ; 

Away  with  your  rigour,  ye  never  need  fear 
To  love  and  to  feel  like  my  Peggy. 

When  flow'rs  fpring  apace  in  the  latc-Joofen'd 
field, 

And  the  fragrance  of  meadows  invite  us; 
Why  cenfure  the  favours  my  Peggy  may  yield, 

Since  hallow'd  the  ties  that  unite  us  ? 

Envy  may  lurk  in  our  woodland  retreat, 
And  malice  may  blacken  conjecture ; 

But  nothing  our  raptures,  our  blifs  (hall  abate, 
For  innocence  is  our  protector. 

O  ye !  by  whofe  bounty  and  goodnefs  we  live, 
By  your  goodnefs  and  bounty  I  beg  you, 

Health,  ftrength,  independence,  and  honefty  give ; 
And  make  me  a  ma'tch  for  my  Peggy. 

THE  CONTRAST. 

WHAT  now  avails  to  gain  a  woman's  heart, 
The  fage's  wffdom,  or  the  poet's  art  1 
Pox  on  the  times  !  the  genius  of  old 
Would  whip  you  off  a  girl  in  fpite  of  gold  ; 
In  fpite  of  liv'ries,  equipage,  and  lace, 
And  all  the  Gothic  grandeur  of  a  race. 
But  now  the  mill'ner's  'prentice,  with  i  fueer,  Tf 
Bleffing   herfelf,    cries,  Heav'ns !    what  have  f, 
we  here  ?  t 

A  man  of  rhime,  worth — fifty  lines  a-year.       J 

Our  wit  ftill  pleafes;  but  'tisdev'lifh  hard, 
What  favei  the  elegy  mould  damn  the  bard  ; 
That  gains  acccfcto  dreffing,  drawing-rooms, 
A  wiih'd-for,  welcame  gueft  where'er  it  comes ; 
Bat  me,  the  lucklefs  author,  fcorn'd  and  poor, 
Eiich  furly  porter  drives  from  ev'ry  door. 

Confcious  of  fecret  worth,  I  hurry  home; 
And  now  the  mafter  damn,  and  now  the  dome ; 
Firmly  refolv'd,  whatever  fhall  betide, 
No  more  to  a(k  what  has  been  once  deny'd  ; 
R.efolv'd,  indeed  '.  but  ev'ry  pow'r  above 
L?.c£hs  at  your  weak  refolves,  and  chiefly  lov«§ 
Ffij 


THE  WORKS  OP  CJRyEME* 


w  Brufh  the  brown  hat,   and  darn  the  breeches 

• '  knee ; 

'  The  wealthy,  pride  may  fuit,  but  fuits  not  thee  : 
Papa,  I  own,  look'd  mighty  (bur  and  grim; 
But  if  the  daughter  fmile,  a  fig  for  him  '. 
'  Mark'd  you  the  fecret  motions  of  her  eye  ? 
"  How  kind  yon  glance  had  been,  had  none  been 

«'  by  ! 

"  Yon  proud  referve,  yon  ftiynefs,  I  could  fwear, 
"  Is  prudence  all,  and  pure  pretence  with  her : 
'  'Tis  right— old  fellows  that  can  thoufands  give, 
"  May  claim,  at  leaft,  fome  rev'rence  while  they 

"  live: 

"  A  few,  few  years  lays  Fufcus  in  his  grave, 
"  And  Mira's  yours,  perhaps,  and  all  he  gave!" 

Intenf  on  future  harm,  thus  faid  the  god 
Who  bends  the  ftubborn  purpofe  with  a  nod ; 
Conftrains  the  ftiffeft  gladly  to  obey, 
Makes  the  gay  gloomy,  and  the  gloomy  gay. 
Refift  who  will,  too  well  I  knew  his  pow'r, 
In  vain  refifted,  to  refift  it  more  ! 
My  hands  inftinftive,  at  the  forceful  call. 
At  once  feize  gloves,  and  hat,  and  ftaff,  and  all ; 
Then  forth  I  walk,  and  ever,  as  I  go, 
Con  o'er  my  manners,  and  practife  a  bow ; 
Spread,  careful  fpread,  the  cravat  on  my  breaft, 
As  prim  and  formal  as  a  parifti  prieft. 

The  knocker  clacks.—"  Who's  there  ?"— C|  Is 

"  Mifs  within?'' 

*'  Confound  the  booby,  what  a  monftrous  din  ! 
•'  She  has  no  time,  flie  fays,  to  fpeak  with  you ; 
"  For  Mr.  Florimel  came  here  juft  now." 
Mv  heart  beat  thick,  and  ev'ry  word  he  faid 
Diftain'd  my  hollow  cheeks  with  foreign  red  ; 
O,  brutifli  times  !  and  is  that  thing  of  filk, 
That  faplefs  fipper  of  an  afs's  milk  ; 
That    tea-nurs'd    grinner,    whole    confumptive 

cough, 

Should  he  but  mint  a  laugh,  would  take  him  off, 
Preferr'd  to  me  !  in  whofe  athletic  grafp 
Ten  thoufand  buzzing  beaux  were  but  a  wafp. 
Sure  wit  and  learning  greater  honour  claim  ; 
No  wit,  no  learning,  ever  fmil'd  on  him : 
I'll  lay  my  Lexicon,  for  all  his  airs, 
That  fellow  cannot  read  the  arms  he  bears; 
Nor,  kneeling,  Mira  !  on  his  trembling  knee, 
Explain  one  half  of  all  he  fays  to  thee. 
'*  No  matter,  he  has  gold ;  whofe  precious  hue 
*'  Is  beauty,  virtue,  wit,  and  learning  too: 
•'  O,  blind  to  worth  !  what  lovelier  than  a  chaife, 
"  Two  bowing  footmen,  and  a  pair  of  bays  ? 
"  What  virtue  like  an  handfome  country-feat, 
"  A  pood  per  annum,  and  a  courfe  of  plate? 
"  And  then  for  wit— a  clrver  library  ; 
"  He  cannot  read  a  book  :  but  he  can  buy : 
"  A  fig  for  learning  '  Learning  does  he  lack, 
11  Whofefa<5lor  both  can  write  and  fign — a  tack*? 
Befides.  you  know,  for  ten  or  lef-  per  ann. 
Even  you  or  any  fchelar,  is  his  man." 
Bear   me,    ye  gods !    6,    bear  me  where  you 

pleafe ! 

To  unknown  regions,  over  unknown  feas; 
Place  me  where  dews  refrefliing  never  drop, 
®n  Niger's  banks,  a  fwarthy  jEthiop ; 

*  A  Scattift  law-term,  for  a  leqff. 
4 


'call  T 


Or  melt  me  to  the  fafhionable  fize, 

Below  the  fcorching  heat  of  Indian  flues: 

No ;  there,  ev'n  there,  the  luft  of  gold  prevails, 

Each  river   groans  with  Ihips,  each  breeze  witk 

fails : 

The  land  abounds,  nay  ocean's  fartheft  creeks, 
With  dirt  that's  fought  for,  or  with  dirt  that  leeks. 
Fix  me  an  icen  ftatue  at  the  pole, 
Where  winds  can't  carry,  and  where  waves  can't 

roll; 

To  man,  to  greedy  man,  your  bard  prefers, 
White  foxes,  fables,  ermines,  cats,  and  bears, 
And  all  the  furry  monfters  Greenland  can 

hers. 

Or,  is  the  boon  too  great  for  gods  to  give  ? 
Recal  the  mighty  word  that  bade  me  live  : 
So.  in  the  duft  forever  (ball  I  fliun 
That  worft  of  evils  that  affronts  the  fun, 
A  fool  whofe  crimes,  or  father's  have  made  great, 
Spurni»g  true  genius  proftrate  at  his  feet. 

ANACREON,  ODE  II.    IMITATED. 

Te  BAVIUS. 

KIND  indulgent  nature  gives 
Her  favours  to  each  thing  that  lives ; 
Her  hand  impartial  envies  none, 
Each  fon  of  her's  an  only  fon. 
"  Her  gifts  are  various." — True,  indeed;  ' 
But  various  is  each  creature's  need  : 
Pride  and  tatters,  fcholars  claim; 
Blockheads,  family  and  fame  ; 
City  coxcombs,  impudence; 
Plodding  peafants,  common  fenfe; 
Statefmen,  promifes  and  lies ; 
Sages,  cockle  fliells  and  flies  ; 
Parfons,  gravity  efface, 
And  avarice,  that  faving  grace ; 
Wits,  and  bucks,  and  bloods,  and  fmartj-, 
Rags,  and  oaths,  and  ruffled  (hirts ; 
And  all  Apollo's  flying  fellows, 
Laurel  crowns  and  empty  bellies. 
In  fhort,  what  mortal  does  not  (hare 
Of  nature's  fond  maternal  care  ? 
Ev'n,  Bavius,  you,  whom  hardly  we 
Admit  her  offspring,  hardly  flie  ; 
(No  wonder,  certes,  for  you  were 
Beholden  more  to  chance  than  her)  : 
Yet  from  the  tender  matron  got 
Want  of  ear  and  ftrength  of  throat, 
Staring,  filly  ignorance, 
Nor  common,  nor  uncommon  fenfe. 
Go  on,  induft  rious  chief  I  go  on  ; 
Firft  merit,  and  then  wear  the  crown ! 
Another  ftab  for  ay  fecures 
The  fpoils  of  murder'd  mules  yours. 

TO  MARTIN  WHITE,  ESQ\ 
UNTIMELY  death  too  oft  attends  the  brave; 
"  The  path  of  glory  leads  unto  the  grave," 
Too  oft,  when  war's  alarming  din  is  o'er, 
Want  waits  the  hero  on  his  natal  fliore ; 
And  what's  more  dreadful  to  a  gen'rous  mind: 
Scorn,  from  the  bafeft,  naeaneft  of  mankind, 

*  Of  Milton,  lantrkjbin. 


MISCELLANIES. 


453 


Bttt  kinder  fates  (and  kinder  fates  are  due), 
O,  ever-honour'd  White  !  diftinguifli  you  ; 
The  laurels  reap'd  by  Ganges'  facred  flow, 
In  all  their  verdure  ftill  adorn  your  brow  ; 
Refpedt  and  plenty  former  labours  crown, 
And  envy  mutters — They  are  fairly  woa. 

ELEGIAC  BALLAD. 
THE  fun  was  haft'ning  to  the  main ; 

His  beamy  radiance  play'd 
Upon  the  mountain's  edge  ;  the  plain 

Confefs'd  a  deeper  fliade. 

The  chant  of  birds,  from  vocal  groves, 
Harmonious  fwell'd  the  breeze  ; 

The  fliepherds  fung  their  rural  loves, 
And  all  around  was  peace. 

When  on  a  bank,  where  purple  flow'rs 

With  blulhing  luftre  ftione ; 
Diflolv'd  in  woe,  thus  Sylvia  pours 

In  air  her  plaintive  moan. 

**  Once,  downy-wing'd,  the  moments  ftole 

Away,  with  headlefs  flight ; 
And  funs  would  warm  the  weftern  goal, 

Before  I  dream'd  of  night. 

To  range  the  mountain's  bloomy  fide, 
And  mark  where  daifies  grew, 

Or  cull  with  art  the  meadow's  pride, 
Was  all  the  care  I  knew. 

Or  if  another  fliar'd  my  breaft, 

It  was  by  Damon  led, 
To  fearch  at  eve  the  linnet's  neft, 

And  fee  the  bow'rs  he  made. 

But,  fad  reverfe  1  I  now  forlorn 

Weep  out  the  live-long  day  ; 
See  joylefs  gleam  the  ruddy  morn, 

Joylefs  the  ev'uing  ray. 

No  op'ning  bloflbms  braid  my  hair, 

Or  on  my  bofom  fliine  ; 
No  DamOn  deigns  the  name  of  fair, 

Prefling  his  lips  to  mine. 

For,  ah  !  by  cruel  guiles  mi  fled, 

In  guardlefs  hour  I  fell ; 
The  joys  of  love  and  youth  are  fled, 

With  innocence  to  dwelL 

No  beam  of  hope  illumes  my  foul, 

No  ray  of  future  blifs ; 
But  ev'ry  fun  muft  cheerlefs  roll, 

In  forrow  black  as  this. 

Damon  !  a  maid  whofe  beauties  bloom 

Unfullied  by  a  crime, 
Shall  wipe  your  tears  for  Sylvia's  doom  ; 

And  tears  her  fate  may  claim  '. 

Yet,  lovely  youth  !   when  in  the  grave, 

Where  footi  I'll  feek  for  reft. 
O,  bid  the  mournful  cyprefs  wave, 

To  fliade  my  clay-cold  breaft  ! 

And,  mindful  of  our  young  amours, 

Come  each  revolving  year, 
,     And  (trow  my  fylvan  tomb  u-ith  flow'r.8, 
Nor  check  the  pitying  tear," 


TO  ARCHIBALD  HAMILTON,  ESQJ» 

ON   Hit  MARRIAGE  WITH  MltS  DINW1DDIE  f, 


,  I  yield,  'twere  madnefs  to  contend, 
When  moft  admire  you,  and  when  all  commend  '. 
I  yield,  and  own,  whatever  lages  write, 
A  multitude  for  once  have  judged  right. 

The  feed*  of  genius  nature  <iid  fupply, 
Their  growth  was  guided  by  a  parent's  eye 
Nice  to  difcern,  and  ftudious  to  improve, 
Each  modeft  wifh  he  rais'd  to  gen'ral  love  ; 
To  virtue  pointed  each  luxuriant  fpray, 
Nor  coldly  fliow'd,  but  ardent  led  the  way. 
The  fire,  the  fon,  the  world  with  wonder  view, 
And  all  the  father  they  forefaw  in  you  : 
Forefaw  that  generous  expanfe  ef  foulr 
That  warm  benevolence,  which  grafps  the  whole  ; 
O'er'.ooks  diftin&ions  of  belief  or  race, 
And  clofes  fyflems  in  its  wide  embrace  ; 
Forefaw  that  namelefs  virtue,  little  known, 
Which  hears  another's  praife,  nor  feeks  its  own  ;  ' 
Confirms  th'  applaufes  grateful  hearts  beftow, 
Grieves  at  no  joy,  nor  joys  at  any  woe  : 
Forefaw,  in  embryo,  all  that  evtr  can 
Give  grace  to  youth,  and  dignity  to  man  ; 
The  godlike  fruits  religion's  garden  yields, 
When  confcience  guides  the  knife  which  reafon 

wields. 

With  wonder  they  forefaw,  and  wond'ring  fee 
Each  worth  (if  worth  fo  great  can  greater  be) 
Improv'd  in  kind,  and  heighten'd  in  degree. 

Such  virtue,  fpite  of  trial,  ftill  unquell'd, 
Benignant  Heav'n  with  gracious  eye  beheld; 
"  Shall  he  at  once  our  happy  manfions  tread, 
"  From  life's  low  cares  and  flefh's  fetters  freed  ? 
"  Or  rather,  with  fome  kindred  fpirit  know 
"  All  that  can  be  conceiv'd  of  heav'n  below  ? 
"  'Tis  fix'd;   (and  who  fliall  queftion  Heav'n's 

"  award)  ? 
"  Be  Mifs  Dinwiddie  his  divine  reward." 

Sure  virtue  fomehow  mixes  with  the  blood, 
Runs-  in  a  line,  and  marks  whole  kindreds  good; 
Eife,  whence  is  none  among  your  num'rous  friends 
But  to  his  anceftors  new  luftre  lends  ? 
Elfe,  whence  were  you  and  your  accomplifh'd  bride 
At  once  by  virtue  and  by  blood  ally'd  ? 

May  ev'ry  biefllng,  each  domeftic  fweet, 
Concur  to  crown  an  union  fo  complete  ; 
May  ev'ry  moment,  as  it  pafles  by, 
Difclole  new  raptures  te  the  ardent  eye  ; 
May  years  revolving  ever  find  you  blcft, 
Your  profpe&s  blooming,  and  your  joys  increas'dj 
F  ill  bounteous  Heav'n  srxhauft  its  ample  ftorc, 
And  mortal  \v  eaknefs  can  receive  no  more. 

Forgive  the  freedom  of  a  bard  unknown, 
Nor  ch  -ck  his  mounting  fpirits  with  a  frown; 
Fain  would  he  faihion  his  untutor'd  lays, 
To  honour  virtue  with  deferved  praife  : 
But  fruitlefs  prove  all  efforts  to  aroufc 
The  lifelefs  languor  of  a  mourning  mufe; 
His  genius  fcanty,  and  but  (mail  his  {kill, 
The  laii  in  merit,  but  the  firtt  in  will. 


*   Stn  of  the  Rrv.  Mr.  Hamilton,  mintftr  of  Dm-* 
'at. 
•j-  Diiugbttr  af  Governor  DirrwiJJie* 


454 


THE   WORKS    OF    GRJEME. 


ON  MISS  AGNES  SMITH  *. 


As  fome  fair  flow'ret  on  a  lonely  vale, 
Grows  fa-fely,  (haded  from  each  rougher  gale ; 
No  vagrant  bee  is  on  its  bofom  found  ; 
Enamour'd  fairies  haunt  the  hallow'd  ground,    { 
Smelling  the  breeze  that  fpreads  its  virgin  fweets  | 

around. 

So  pure,  fo  fweet,  fo  lonely,  and  fo  fair, 
Melinda  grows,  beneath  a  parent's  care ; 
I  afk  but  in  her  prefence  thus  to  be, 
To  breathe  her  air,  and  all  her  charms  to  fee  :     j 
Had  angels  envy,  they  would  envy  me. 

LINES  f 


BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,    M.  D. 

As  in  fomc  vale,  remote  from  human  eye, 

Nurs'd  by  the  vernal  fhower  and  genial  Iky, 

Aprimrofe  rears  its  unregarded  head, 

Beneath  the  fhelter  of  fome  hawthorn  fhade, 

Unfeen,  its  unpolluted  bloom  difplays, 

And  waftes,  unheeded,  its  ambroiial  days; 

No  vagrant  wing  is  on  its  bofom  found ; 

No  vagrant  foot  invades  the  lonely  ground; 

The  breeze,  enatuour'd  of  its  virgin  bloom, 

Fans  its  feouefter'd  breaft,  and  breathes  its  fweet 

perrume. 

So  pure,  fo  fweet,  fo  lonely,  and  fo  fair, 
Sophia  grows  beneath  fbme  angel's  care  ! 
Sooth'd  by  the  balm  that  fea-born  breezes  bring, 
When  zephyrs  fport  on  aromatic  wing ; 
And,  fafely  fhelter'd  from  the  wint'ry  hlaft, 
That  fweeps,  refiftlefs,  o'er  the  wat'ry  wafte, 
Grows  unregarded  on  this  rocky  fleep, 
That  overhangs  th'  ihhofpitable  deep, 
Echoing  the  murmur  of  the  furgihg  wave, 
And  howling  winds  that  o'er  the  world  of  waters 

rave  ! 

TO  MARTIN  WHITE,  ESQ^ 

FOND  the  attempt — in  meafure  meet  to  drefs 

The  various  features  of  your  various  blifs ! 

To  make  you  now  the  gard'ner's  garments  wear  ; 

Now  follow  flowly  the  laborious  fteer  ; 

Now  in  Hefperian  groves  transported  ftray ; 

Now  to  the  upland  wind  your  we*ry  way  : 

An  irkfornc  tafk;  yet  taftelefs  were  the  wight 

Who  would  refufe  it  for  fo  fine  a  fight ; 

Around  in  various  perfpe&ive  arife 

Woods,  rivers,  mountains,  cottages,  and  ikies. 

Her  choiccft  gifts  to  you  Pomona  yields, 
And  Indian  harvefts  whiten  o'er  your  fields ; 
Not  richer  crops  by  Ganges'  facred  tide 
.Reap  Brama's  fens,  than  grace  the  banks  of  Clyde. 

Nor  be  the  labour  of  the  ax  forgot, 
Nor  the  Icaft  fhtub  that  fhades  the  charming  fpot; 
Trees  pil'd  on  trees  defend  the  happy  feat, 
"  Its  fummer's  fhadow,  and  its  winter's  heat." 

Whaf  yet  remains  to  make  you  fully  bleft, 
To  ftill  the  cravings  of  a  feeling  breaft.  ? 

*  Daughter  of  Mi:    Hugh   Smith   of  Carn-watl. 
She  died  of a  confumption  in  IJJI. 
j1  Imitated  from  the  foregoing  vcrfa. 


The  lovely  confort,  focial  and  ferene, 

Deep  read  in  books,  nor  of  her  reading  vain : 

Yet  not  from  books  is  choiceft  knowledge  drawn, 

Untutor'd  thought  oft  more  than  learning  can ; 

Nor  yet  on  learning's  tow'ring  branches  grow, 

The  fitteft  garland  for  a  female  brow  ; 

Minerva's  arts  all  other  arts  excel, 

To  net  with  grace,  and  ply  the  needle  well; 

With  niceft  care  the  filmy  thread  to  draw; 

Direcl:  the  maids,  and  give  the  dairy  law  ; 

See  that  clean  hands  the  curdling  liquid  prefs, 

And  mould  to  various  forms  the  churn's  increafr. 

Yet  ev'n  thefe  houfewife  arts,  theugh  great,  were 

vain, 

Did  not  good-nature  follow  in  the  train ;       [care ; 
It  follows! — Mark  that  brow  unwreath'd  with 
None  but  the  gentleft  paffions  harbour  there! 
So  kind  her  look,  fo  temper'd  with  referve, 
We  hope  her  love,  yet  wifh  moft  to  deferve ; 
Ever  the  fame,  no  forms  can  difcompofe, 
The  chaife's  rattle,  nor  the  brufh  of  clothes; 
With  the  fame  eafe  fhe  welcomes  ev'ry  gueft, 
But  flill  the  worthiell  is  receiv'd  the  beft. 

Lucklels  the  wight,  however  great  her  charms, 
Who  takes  a  barren  miftrcfs  to  his  arms ! 
Cold  are  the  pleafures  of  the  nuptial  bed, 
That  never  afk  Lucina's  friendly  aid ; 
Though  fortune  fliould  all  other  gifts  beftow, 
Thefe  very  gifts  would  but  increafe  his  woe  ; 
"  What,  fhall  a  ftranger  reap  thefe  fertile  fields  ? 
"  An  alien  gather  what  my  garden  yields  ? 
"  Some  fhabby  coufin,  fcarcely  known  by  name, 
"  Flaunt  in -my  clothes,  and  propagate  my  ftiame  !" 
But  happy  he,  who  in  his  warm  embrace 
Clafps  the  fair  mother  of  a  lovely  race  ; 
His  joys  are  ever  growing,  ever  new— 
And  glad  am  I  that  happy  man  arc  you  ! 

See,  fondly  playful,  hanging  by  her  fide, 
The  father's  darling,  and  the  mother's  pride, 
Kind-hearted  Harry,  form'd  for  calmer  life 
Than  the  bar's  buflle,  or  the  foldier's  ftrife  ; 
For  private  friendlhips  form'd,  and  virtuous  love, 
And  all  the  native  paffions  of  the  grove. 
But  yet  perhaps  revolving  years  may  trace 
On  each  foft  feature  a  more  manly  grace, 
And  then  his  father's  footfleps  he  may  fill, 
And  Milton's  owner  be  a  hero  ftill. 

See  Betfey,  carelefs  of  her  growing  charms, 
Hug  puffy,  purring  peaceful  in  her  arms; 
Arms  that,  when  fome  important  years  are  run, 
Shall  blefs  fome  hero,  or  fomc  hero's  fon. 

Afide,  in  filent  mufe,  fee  Tommy  ftands, 
Doom'd  from  his  birth  to  vifit  foreign  lands; 
A  flurdy  boy,  undaunted,  void  of  fear, 
Dreading  alike  a  faggot  and  a  fpear ; 
Frank  as  a  foldier,  honeft  as  a  tar, 
Equally  fitted  for  the  fea  or  war. 

What,  little  Martin  !  can  be  faid  of  thee  ? 
A  ftranger  1  to  thee,  2nd  thou  to  me  ! 
May  Harry's  virtues  animate  thy  breaft, 
And  then  thy  father  muft  be  fully  bleft. 

Thus  I,  enamour'd  of  my  theme,  purfue 
A  taflc  my  gratitude  prefciib'd — not  you: — 
Should  any,  too  fevere,  deride  my  ftrains, 
And  think  you  poorly  paid  for  all  your  pains, 
Tell  them  (perhaps  they'll  mind  it  while  they  live), 
"I'was  all  a  grateful  dying  bard  could  give. 

Apr 


MISCELLANIES. 


455 


DAMON;  OR,  THE  COMPLAINT. 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

GRF.V  twilight  had  begun  her  dufky  reign, 
Veiling  the  glories  of  the  vernal  year, 
When  from  the  village,  his  frequented  walk, 
Penfive  and  flow,  the  youthful  Damon  ftray'd, 
Along  the  windings  of  his  native  ftream. 

His  downcaft  vifage,  clouded,  pale,  and  wan, 
Confefs'd  a  bolbm  pierc'd  with  pining  woe  ; 
The  jocund  look,  the  joyous  fmile,  were  fled, 
Fled  the  rapt  eye  that  fpoke  the  focial  foul : 
Silence  he  fought — and  his  woe-deafen'd  ear, 
Long  unaccuftom'd  to  the  melting  voice 
Of  mirth  and  gay  feftivity,  was  wont 
To  court  the  murmur  of  the  falling  fiream, 
And  lift  attentive  to  the  breeze  of  eve ; 
While  many  a  figh  fobb'd  from  his  penfive  breaft, 
And  many  a  murmur  mutter'd  from  his  tongue, 
And  ever  and  anon  the  big  round  drop, 
Unconfcious,  trickled  from  his  tearful  eye. 

Onward  his  ftep  had  negligently  ftray'd, 
To  where  the  fiream  •with  deeper  murmur  flow'd, 
Inccffant  rufhing  o'er  a  pebbly  bed. 
There  the  pale  gloom,  the  lonely  rolling  dream, 
The  awful  horrors  of  the  waving  wood, 
Inipir'd  his  foul  with  a  congenial  dread, 
And  rous'd  the  fecret  forrovvs  of  his  mind  : 
He  ftop'd — he  gaz'd — he  tore  his  flowing  hair, 
He  bar'd  his  bolbm  to  the  dewy  breeze, 
And  wildly  heaving  his  diftemper'd  breaft,' 
In  woeful  accents  breath'd  this  mournful  tale. 

"  Fcrlorn,  dejected,  haplefs,  here  I  roam  ! 
No  friendly  hand  to  guide  my  wand'ring  ftep, 
No  kindly  gleam  to  light  my  onward  way, 
No  feeling  heart  to  fhare  my  piercing  grief, 
Or  fhed  the  balm  of  coniblation  mild  ! 
O,  filent  night !  extend  thy  peaceful  gloom  ; 
Enwrap  my  mufing  melancholy  head; 
Shade  all  the  horrors  of  my  painful  heart, 
And  take,  O  !  kindly  take,  my  rifinjr  fighs. 
.  "  Propitious  fortune  i'mil'd  not  on  my  birth, 
No  lineal  honours  grac'd  my  lowly  name ; 
Remote  from  greatnefs  and  luxurious  eafe, 
The  pomp  of  grandeur,  and  the  pride  of  wealth, 
My  youth  was  rear'd  in  folitnde  obfcure, 
And  partial  nature  crown'dmy  humble  lot 
With  love  alone  ! — In  vacancy  of  mind, 
For  ever  then  my  lightfotne  fpirits  flow'd, 
Obfcquious  dancing  to  the  pleafing  call 
Of  laughing  hope,  tranquillity,  and  eafe : 
The  morn  unclouded  fled  fercne  away, 
In  friendly,  focial,  heart-exulting  joy ; 
The  blooming,  modeft,  rofy-fmiling  look ; 
The  eafy,  artlefs,  unaffected  grace 
Of  fpotlefs  beauty  ;  the  enchanting  glance 
Of  fimple  virtue,  innocence,  and  love, 
Shone  ever  radiant  on  the  evening  hour  ! 

"  Say  then,  when  proflrate  on  the  humble  earth 
Was  e'er,  O  heav'n  !  my  voice  imploring  rais'd 
To  thee  for  honour,  wealth,  or  gaudy  fame  ? 
From  my  warm  heart  did  e'er  one  murmur  flow, 
'Gainft  the  fair  form  of  that  unerring  law 
Which  fways  my  being  with  myfterious  rule  ? 
No ;  rather,  did  not  calm  contentment  lull 
Each  rifing  wifh  ?  or  if  one  wifh  efcap'd, 
Its  frail  ambition  fought  no  higher  boon, 


Than,  fafely  flielter'd  in  my  native  vale, 
Remote,  obfcure,  inglorious,  and  unknown, 
That  lafting  love  might  crown  my  peaceful  night, 
And  Sylvia  gladden  all  my  days  with  joy. 
Burft,    burft,    my    heart ! — regardlefs  Heav'n 

averfe, 

Defpis'd  my  humble  pray'r  ! — The  modeft  rofe 
That  early  bloffom'd  on  her  rermile  cheek, 
And,  op'ning,  promiled  a  future  flow'r, 
To  fmile  delightful  many  a  fummer  fun, 
At  guilt's  fell  touch,  all  withered  and  wan, 
Droops  its  pale  head,  and  fades  away  forlorn  I 

But  let  me  not  impiety  to  guilt 
Prefumptuous  add,  and  caufelei's  charge  on  Heav'n 
The  wicked  purpofe  and  the  perverfe  deed  ! 
Why  fhould  a  worm,  with  daring  breath,  pre~ 

fume 

To  blame  the  coitrfe  of  ever-myftic  pow'rs  ? 
And  prideful  fweiling  on  the  feeble  plume 
Of  reptile  reaibn,  icreen  with  cobweb  veil 
This  ("acred  truth, — that  Providence  is  juft  ? 
No — It  was  pride,  that  tow'ring  foar'd  aloft, 
Arous'd  misfortune — who  with  frigid  touch 
Benumb'd  its  wings,  and  roll'd  it  in  the  duft  ! 

But  why— ah,  whither  roves  licentious  thought? 
Still  rebel  paffions  rule  my  madding  foul ! 
Still  ftrays  my  heart  '. — though  ever  on  my  ear, 
Soft-breathing  from  the  lips  of  hallow'd  Truth 
And  heav'n-defcendcd  Reafon,  i'weetly  low, 
Thefe  fage  difiuafive  accents  feem  to  fay: — 
Go,  take  a  manly  courage  to  your  breaft, 
Nor  ftray,  fad  forrowing,  by  the  lonely  ftream ; 
See,  art  and  fcience  fprtad  their  grateful  ttore, 
And  all  the  mufes  all  their  fweets  difplay, 
And  court  you,  beck'ning  to  their  tuneful  cell: 
Forego  the  dear  delights  of  early  love, 
Unhallow'd  by  the  fairefteem  of  virtue  ; 
And  learn  that  lore  divine,  the  bounteous  pot?  'r* 
Beftow,  to  blefs  the  fav'rite  fons  of  earth." 
I  come,  ye  gentle  monitors !  I  come  ! 
But,  ere  I  go,  permit  this  tender  figh, 
This  fweiling  tribute  of  a  parting  tear : 
The  hour  will  come,  when,  funk  in  filent  reft, 
My  heart  will  ceafe  to  beat,  my  eyes  to  weep, 
And  claim  the  pious  drop  I  now  beftow. 

"  I  rave,  I  rave  !  the  doleful  hour  draws  nigh ', 
Already  dire  affliction  faps  my  frame  ; 
My  vitals  languid,  all  my  pow'rs  decay  : 

«'  I  leave  you,  Sylvia  I  ne'er  remember  me  ; 
Forget,  when  I  lie  mould'ring  in  the  grave. 
How  much  I  lov'd  you,  or  how  much  I  mourn'd. 
In  rural  eafe  and  calm  retirement  blefs'd, 
Haply  fome  wealthier,  happier  youth  may  'njoy, 
In  after-time,  what  fate  denies  to  me  : 
But  ceafe  the  figh  to  heave,  the  wifh  to  breathe, 
Again  to  wander  through  the  guileful  rounds 
Of  fafliion,  folly,  vanity,  and  vice  '. 
May  love,  efteem,  fair  truth,  and  focial  joy, 
Attend  you  p;aceful  through  the  vale  of  life  ; 
May  Heav'n,  benignant,  fmile  on  all  your  ways. 
And  virtue  light  you  blamelefs  to  your  grave  '. 
"  'Tis  there  we'll  meet : — 'Tjs  there  one  com 
mon  fate 

Will  mix  our  afhes  in  one  common  duft  1 
I  go  before  ! — I  wafte — I  die  apace  1 
Farewell,  ye  wilds  !  and  thou  fequefter'd  ftream 
The  lecret  witnefs  of  my  woe,  farewell  1 
F  f  iiij 


THE   WORKS    OF   GRAEME. 


And  thou,  for  whom  T  liv'd,  for  whom  I  die, 
Sylvia,  farewell '.  and  all  the  world,  adieu  1" 

ALEXIS : 

OR,  THE  CONSTANT  LOVER.  A  TALE. 

Is  there  who  fcorns  a  conflant  lover?  here 
I  claim  his  cenlure,  and  demand  hisfneer; 
That  thing  am  I,  and  bold  enough  to  own, 
Where  once  I  fix  my  love,  I  ftill  iove  on : 
Sway'd  by  no  accidents  of  coy,  or  kind, 
With   all  my  ftrength,    my  heart,  my  foul,  my 
mind 

In  anno  fixty (four  years  ago), 

My  hat,  ods  me  !  was  then  a  very  beau  ; 
No  (hears  had  yet  curtail'd  its  copious  brim, 
Nor  gray-groat  drefler  fpoil'd  its  welted  trim  ; 
My  face  fecure  (my  face  it  then  could  hide), 
Beneath  its  fhadow  fun  and  wind  defy'd  : 
My  lips  no  paly  f  urfs,  no  bliiiers  knew, 
And  each  plump  cheek  preferv'd  its  native  hue. 

In  fixty (about  this  very  time, 

The  meadows  and  my  bat  were  in  their  prime), 

I  faw  my  Betfey  firft,  a  {trapping  lafs, 

Kot  quite  a  beauty,  and  not  quite  an  afs; 

Her  feet,  though  clumfy,  and  her  ancles  more, 

Silk  fhoes  atton'd  for,  for  filk  fhoes  fhe  wore  ; 

Perhaps  above  fome  faults  might  too  be  fpy'd, 

If  aught  can  be  a  fault  that  fringes  hide  ; 

The  napkin  floating  white,  like  morning  fnow, 

Made  large  amends  for  what  was  dun  beiow  ; 

And  the  fair  pendants  glitt'ring  in  her  ear, 

Conceal'd  the  dirt,  if  dirr  indeed  was  there  : 

If  muGc's  fweetnefs  flow'd  not  from  her  tongue, 

Nor  Philomela  warbltd  as  fhe  fung; 

Yet  was,  I  ween,  her  voice  both  flirill  and  loud, 

And  weil  could  quell  a  kitchen's  ev'ning  crowd  ; 

The  laughter's  giggle,  and  the  laugh'd  at's  pout, 

Struck  with  the  found  fublime,  alike  were  mute : 

Ev'n  pots  and  gridirons,  if  a  word  ihe  fpake, 

Ff-lt  thrilling  tremors  to  their  centre  (hake. 

I  faw,  I  blufli'd,  and  (mark,  my  hat  was  new), 

To  a  kind  curt'fy  made  as  kind  a  bow  ; 

Some  diftant  words,  then  compliments  enfu'd  ; 

I  wrote  divinely,  fhe  divinely  few'd  : 

Then  wh-p,  ere  either  minded  where  we  were, 

1  grew  a  lad  of  parts,  and  fhe  grew  fair. 

"  I  never  {pent  fo  pleafantly  an  hour ;" 

And,  "  Ma'am  !  I  ne'er  was  proud  of  praife  be- 

"  fore." 

"  Sir,  was  it  really  you  the  fonnet  wrote  ? 
"  Such  btauty,   Ma'am,    can    raife    the   flatted 

*'  thought." 

"  A  copy.  Sir  !" — "  'Tis  at  your  fervice,  Ma'am." 
"  And  it  you  please,  Sir,  let  it  have  your  name." 
Such  was  our  firft,  our  ferret  interview, 
Such  virtue  has  a  welted  hat,  when  new  ! 

Though  dark  and  ^loornv  was  my  lonely  ha!l ; 
Though  rotten -was  the  ro'.f,  and  rent  the  wall; 
Though  n  thing  it  contain'd  of  human  ufe, 
But  lank  and  feeble  was  each  hungry  moufe  ; 
So  lank,  fo  treble:  thty  had  furely  died. 
Had  i  o*  my  book"  life's  *  bbing  ftream  fupply'd  : 
Yet  ever  after,  morning,  eve,  and  noon, 
Its  humbie  floor  w«s  fweep'd  with  Mira's  gown. 
Nay,  fcarce  an  hour  but  from  the  fpider's  haunt 
She  wanted  fomething,  or  would  feem  to  want 


(The  fpider's  haunt  my  hall,  nor  named  w 
And  vulgar  Befswas  Mira  flill  in  fong). 
In  eafy  lapfe  our  moments  onward  roll'd, 
She  grew  more  yielding,  and  I  grew  more  bold  ; 
The  ch,eek,  the  hand  fubdu'd,  hut  fan  my  fire, 
Still  higher  feats  I  meditate,  and  higher : 
The  lips  capitulate,  I  ftorm  the  breaft  ; 
But  Honour's  manly  counfel  fav'd  the  reft  : 
Yet  what  by  day  he  impudence  had  deem'd, 
W,ith  fame  unblemifh'd  we  in  darknefs  dream'd. 

Think  not,  licentious  profligates  profane! 
I  mean  to  warm  you  with  a  wanton  ftrain ; 
Pure  as  Clyde's  cryftal  (hall  my  numbers  flow, 
In  all  the  native  innocence  of  woe  ! 
Hail,  virgin  goddefs  of  the  ftreaming  eye  1 
Who  cheer  my  folitude  with  many  a  figh ; 
Who  fbed  your  fofteft  influence  on  my  head, 
And  drive  foul  pafGon  from  thy  cyprefs  fhadc; 
My  friend,  my  fole  companion,  and  my  queen  I 
Life  of  my  fong !  which  elfe  had  lifelefs  been ; 
Hail  to  your  dark  domain  !  your  kingdom  come^ 
And  wrap  all  nations  in  one  friendly  gloom  : 
So  fhall  rude  riot  wholly  difappear, 
Nor  foul-mouth'd folly  wound  themodefl  ear;     * 
The  rake  with  wonder  feel  each  wim  refine, 
And  ev'.ry  breaft  be  innocent  as  mine. 
Yes,  it  is  innocent ;  dejedting  woe 
So  found  it,  and  I  truft  will  leave  it  fo  : 
Ev'n  Mira,  cruel,  faithlefs  as  {he  is, 
Will  do  me  juftice,  and  acknowledge  this. 
Mira  !  that  word  recals  my  wand'ring  fong-, 
And  points  to  days  when  my  old  hat  was  young 5 
When  ull  was  rapture,  and  the  beardlefs  bard 
To  city  fops  and  country  fquiies  preferr'd. 

But  nothing  under  heav'n  is  conftant  found ; 
For  ceafelels  rolls  the  wheel  of  fortune  round: 
Now  (land  we  trembling  on  the  top,  and  now 
1  'he  low  is  lofty,  and  the  lofty  low ! 
This  ufeful  leffon  what  I  tell  will  teach, 
A  truth  old  hats,  as  well  as  Plato,  preach. 

O,  luft  of  wealth !  what  evils  fpring  from  thee! 
A  curfe  to  all,  a  double  curfe  to  me ; 
The  term  drew  nigh,  and  frugal  was  thefquire, 
I  would  have  rais'd,  he  would  not  raife  my  hire  ; 
With  heart- felt  grief  I  few  my  coat  decay, 
My  only  coat  grew  barer  ev'ry  day; 
My  breeches  too  the  taylor's  art  furpaft, 
Faft  as  he  few'd,  they  ran  to  rags  as  faft  : 
Autumn's  bleak  rains  defcend— where'er  I  go, 
Water  and  dirt  at  once  pervade  my  {hoe : 
A  father's  fears  I  for  my  {lockings  feel, 
And  hang  in  forrow  o'e:  each  helplefs  heel; 
Diftant,  far  diftant,  from  a  filler's  care, 
My  ftockings,  now  a  folitary  pair ! 
My  hat  and  veft,  though  decent,  ftill,  I  faid, 
Muft  too  decay,  as  others  have  decay 'd  ; 
Terreftrial  it,  their  birth,  and,  loon  or  late, 
Terreftrial  hats  and  veils  muft  yield  tr>  fate  ! 
Time,  ever  hurrying,  brings  the  period  on, 
When  this  fhaJl  turn  to  rags,  and  that  be  brown, 

Confider,  Sir  (I  {aid  with  deference  due), 
The  lum  of  all  my  fervices  to  yon ; 
The  tedious  days  in  clofe  confinement,  fpent : 
With  all  the  humble  patience  of  a  faint ; 
1  he  boys  were  reftlefs,  and  the  nurfery  near, 
Bi't  did  'heir  roarings  ever  reach  your  ear? 
Or  did  tnc  iwoilen  eye  and  blubber'd  cheek 
Ever  the  rigour  of.  my  tribe  befpeak  ? 


MISCELLANIES. 


No.Heaven  can  witnefs,  gentle  was  my  rule ; 
That  of  a  drawing-room,  and  not  a  fchool. 
Confider  then,  nor  blame  me  if  I'm  free, 
How  coarfe  my  fare  has  been,  how  fmall  my  fee ! 
1  never  drank  what  for  your  ufe  was  brew'd, 
Nor  was  one  offal  from  your  plate  my  food ; 
The  barley  of  your  fields  fupplied  my  bread ; 
The  water  of  your  well  my  thirft  allay'd; 
And  then  my  wages — fo  exceeding  poor, 
The  meaneft  fcullion  in  your  houfe  has  more : 
TV   'bmip'  I  might  bear,  the  latter  too, 
If  all  my  clothes  would  lafl  forever  new  : 
It  jicav'ui  with  hoofs  would  harden  cither  foot, 
And  fhag  me  o'er  with  an  immortal  fuit. 
But  Sir,  you  fee  (with  that  I  turn'd  me  round) 

This  body  can't  be  cover'd  with 

for  other it  will  not  do  for  lefs — 

I  might  afford  a  pretty  decent  drefs; 
Might  yet  a  ftudent  among  ftudents  fhine, 
Nor  with  my  rags  affront  the  favouring  Nine: 
Think  not  my  fhabbinefs  of  mean  concern, 
If  I  be  fhabby,  will  the  children  learn  ? 
No ;  be  affur'd  Sir,  every  growing  rent 
Grows  certain  ruin  to  my  government : 
The  hour  will  come, — nay  'tis  already  here, 
When  they  will  fcorn  the  man  they  fhould  revere, 
Will  flily  draw  each  beggar-patch  afide, 
And  moft  expofe  what  moft  I  wifh  to  hide. 

Thus  I  fubmifs — 'Squire  Fufcus  anfwer'd  fierce, 
"  You  and  your  favouring  Nine  may  , 

."  Take  the  old ,  and  welcome  ;  but  if  not, 

•"  Go  and  be I  wont  advance  a  groat." 

Rous'd  into  rage,  I  dropp'd  the  deference  due, 
And  all  the  fcholar  open'd  to  my  view ; 
Below  my  notice,  Sir,  I  fcorn  debate, 
Though  made  my  mafter  by  the  frown  of  fate. 
Gods  !  let  my  poverty  for  ever  laft ; 
Each  coming  day  add  forrow  to  the  paft : 
Let  labour  bend  me  o'er  his  heavy  fpade  ; 
Woe's  cup  be  mine,  and  mine  affliction's  bread  ; 
But  never  riches  to  my  pray'rs  impart, 
And  in  your  wrath  deny  a  gen'rous  heart. 

This  faid,  I.fcornful  from  the  fquire  withdrew, 
Nor  fear'd  the  furly  terrors  of  his  brow ; 
My  books  I  bundled  up  without  delay, 
Nor  could  ev'n  Mira's  tears  command  my  ftay  : 
"  Dear,  lovely  maid  !  my  race  of  blifs  is  run  ; 
"  Heav'ri'bids  us  part;  the  will  of  Heav'n  be  done: 
"  Though  joy  fhall  never  light  my  mornings  more, 
"  Nor  foorh  my  flumbers  in  the  filent  hour ; 
"  Yet  fhall  fome   gleams  of  comfort  touch  my 

"  mind, 
"  To  think  you  once  were  faithful,  once  were 

"  kind. 

"  Farevcii !  and,  oh  !  may  ev'ry  pow'r  above 
"  That  fmil'd  propitious  on  our  rifiag  love, 
"  With  ev'ry  blefling,  ev'ry  good  re'ward, 
"  Your  {.-en'rous  friendship  for  a  friendlefs  bard." 
I  weeding  laid,  and  grafp'd  her  to  my  brtaft, 
While  broken  fobs  and  kiffes  fpoke  the  reft. 

"  Farewell,  Alexis ! — muft  I  fay  farewell 
"  To  him  I've  ever  lov'd,  and  lov'd  fo  well ! 
"  Farewell !  fince  thus  my  cruel  ftars  orduin  ; 
"  Star;  ftill  regardlefs  of  a  lover's  pain  : 
"  But  by  the  mem'ry  of  this  laft  embrace, 
"  Our  nights  of  rapture,  and  our  days  of  blifs; 
"  By  the  immortal  fervour  of  your  lays, 
"  And  ev'ry  monument  of  Mira's  praife ; 


457 


"  When  ravifh'd  from  thefe  arms,  I  know  not") 
"  where,  f 

"  Beware,  thy  weeping  Mira  bids  beware !          r" 
"  Of  wit's  enchantment,  and  of  beauty's  fnare  ;  J 
-"  Bethink  thee  of  thy  vows  of  endlefs  love, 
"  Thefe  vows  now  regifter'd  in  heav'n  above  ; 
"  And  ere  the  fubtle  fyrens  lay  their  lure, 
"  Prevent  its  malice,  and  apply  the  cure  : 
"  Thus  fhalt  thou,  after  various  fortunes  paft, 
"  Come  undebauched  to  my  bed  at  laft : 
"  Thine  is  my  heart,  and  thine  my  hand  fhall  be, 
"  My  life,  my  happinefs,  depends  on  thee  !" 

Such  were  her  words. — Philofopher  fevere  ! 
Thou  hard  of  credit,  and  of  captious  ear ! 
Say,  would'ft  thou,  in  the  wifdom  of  thy  youth, 
Have  fought  a  Sorites  to  prove  their  truth? 
If  fo,  indeed  a  very  fage  thou  art, 
And  triple  adamant  environs  thy  heart ; 
With  praifes  due  thy  prudence  I  commend ; 
But  may'ft  thou,  Zeno !  never  be  my  friend. 
For  me,  with  all  my  weakneffes  content, 
Soon  as  I  heard,  as  loon  I  gave  affent ; 
The  fighs  and  tears  that  with  each  word  increas'd. 
Were  demonftration  to  a  feeling  breaft. 

What  pity,  Heav'n !  the   morn  of  all  thou'll 

made, 

The  radiant  image  of  thy  ftarry  head ; 
What  pity  woman,  woman  fo  divine  ! 
Should  want  a  will  immutable  as  thine  ; 
Then  through  our  groves  would  plaints  of  falfe- 

hood  ceafe, 

And  rills,  unfwell'd  with  forrow,  feek  the  feas; 
Each  gale  on  lighter  pinions  fcour  the  Ikies, 
Norfweat  beneath  a  load  of  gi cans  and  fighs. 
Paffion  their  counfellor,  and  whim  their  guide, 
Their  friends  and  fav'rites,  vanity  and  pride  ; 
No  wonder  women,  angels  as  they  feem, 
This  juft  now  fit,  unfii  next  moment  deem ; 
No  wonder  Mira,  with  each  grace  adorn'd, 
A  day,  one  tedious  day  my  abfence  mourn'd ; 
A  day,  one  tedious  day,  refolv'dto  keep 
Her  vows ;  but  loft  them  with  her  morning's  flcep. 

Spruce  from  the  city  came  a  gaudy  wight, 
His  hat  was  finer,  and  his  hands  more  white  ; 
A  fofter  tinge  each  fickly  feature  fpread, 
Crifp'd  were  the  hoary  honours  of  his  head; 
A  gilt  ftaff  trembled  in  his  feeble  hand, 
To  him  a  ftaff,  to  me  it  were  a  wand ; 
He  came,  he  bow'd  ;  than  me  he  better  bow'd; 
Nay,  bent  the  knee ;  and  bend  it  well  he  cou'd  : 
She  fmii'd,  fhe  curtfy'd  ;  and,  (alas,  alas! 
That  I  fhould  live  to  fing  fo  fad  a  cafe  !) 
She  granted  ev'ry  favour  in  an  hour, 
That  coft  me  many  months  to  gain  before  ! 

A  woman  once  incohftant's always  fo; 
One  bound'ry  broke,  no  other  bounds  they  know.- 
Thus  fheep,  if  once  they  break  the  turf-built  fold, 
No  whins  can  fcare  them,  and  no  dikes  can  hold. 

The  coxcomb  Florio,  fo  prim,  fo  neat, 
Soon  fhar'd  his  clumfy  ragged  rival's  fate  ; 
Out-bow'd,  out-kncel'd,  by  one  of  ruftic  garb, 
Who  fnapt  to  feize  the  bait,  but  feiz'd  the  barb ; 
Long  pin'd  in  thinner  air  the  foolifh  fifh, 
To  gain  his  fhelt'ring  mud  was  all  his  wifh ; 
Once  more  below  his  fimlefs  bank  to  lie, 
In  liftlels,  lazy,  loitering  apathy. 
In  vain  !  when  Mira  cy'd  the  ufelefs  prey, 
Far  on  the  fhore  fhe  flung  the  thing  away,. 


458  THE   WORKS 

Irkfome  the  taflc,  and  tedious  were  the  tale, 
Werds  would  gr»w  fcarce,andpen  and  ink  would 

fail ; 

Nay,  life's  Ihort  period  hardly  would  fuffice, 
To  give  the  fum  of  her  inconftancies. 
Yet  ftill  I  love  her ;  do  I  what  I  will, 
Some  magic  influence  attracts  me  ftill ; 
Attracts  me  ftill,  and  with  a  force  as  ftrong 
As  when  my  hat,  my  welted  hat  was  young : 
Elfe,  why  thefe  fighs  that  lahour  in  my  bread, 
That  feek  for  vent,  and  wifh  to  be  expreft  ? 
Soon  as  1  reach  my  folitary  hall, 
Ye  fighs  burft  forth  !  ye  teary  torrents  fall ! 
There  no  rude  fwain  fhall  mock  your  tender  moan ; 
Your  lovely  forrow  fuits  with  love  alone. 
Sept.  6.  1771. 

SONNET. 

FAREWELL,  diftnrber  of  my  reft, 

Succefs  lefs  love  !  adieu  ; 
With  hopes,  and  jealoufies,  and  fears, 

And  all  your  happy  crew. 

Farewell,  the  mournful  midnight  lay, 

The  elegy  of  woe  ! 
And  all  the  difmal  ditties,  fung 

By  Medwan's  mazy  flow. 

Hail,  fober  dulnefs !  ever  hail, 

My  only,  laft  relief ! 
Thy  ferious  fons  in  peace  repofe, 

Infenfible  of  grief ! 

No  fludied  harmony  of  found 

Their  paffions  e'er  refin'd  ; 
Nor  melting  melody  of  woe 

E'er  touch'd  their  callous  mind. 

Alike  to  them,  when  nature's  call 

Ferments  their  boiling  blood, 
Whether  Belinda  fmile  or  not ; 

Another  is  as  good. 

The  various  ills  of  love  and  life, 

The  thinking  only  know ; 
And  fenfibility  is  join'd 

Eternally  with  woe. 

At  firft,  the  little  ills  of  love     , 

My  bofom  hardly  wrung  ; 
But  lo  !  they  gather'd  ftrength,  and  grew 

Important  as  1  fung. 

Thus,  under  a  phyfician's  care, 

Intent  on  fame  and  fees, 
The  titubation  of  a  pulfe 

Increafes  to  difeafe. 

He  talks  in  all  the  terms  of  art, 

And  wags  his  myftic  head  ; 
While  patients  tremble  for  their  life, 

And  think  they're  really  bad. 

TO  MISS 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,    M.  D. 

I,ET  gentle  youths  diffolve  in  am'rous  fires, 
And  breathe  in  melting  lays  their  foft  defires  5 
With  fongs  of  wit,  and  fonr.ets  void  of  care, 
Gay  as  their  hopes,  and  as  their  hearts  fincere ; 
To  fpotlefs  charms  unfading  trophies  raife, 
Of  real  love  and  undiffembled  praife : 


OF  GR^ME. 

e  theirs  the  bleffings  they  dcferve  to  prove, 
'he  garland  gather'd  from  the  myrtle  grove ; 
'he  gracious  glance  of  condefcending  maids; 
,ove  long  to  laft,  and  fame  that  never  fades : 
or  them  may  Venus  light  the  genial  bed, 
!y  hallow'd  Hymen  honourable  made; 
Vnd  crown  th'  embrace  of  many  wedded  years 
ith  gen'rous  fons,  to  emulate  their  fires; 
ke  them  be  bleft  with  all  their  wifhes  crave, 
\  parent's  joy,  and  age's  honour'd  grave. 

Far  other  hopes  my  haplefs  breaft  infpire ; 
rar  other  themes  demand  the  mufe's  fire  ! 
vV  ith  me  the  dear  rewards  of  love  are  o'er ; 
or  me  the  myrtle  garlands  bloom  no  moi;e  ! 
n  cheerlefs  darknefs  finks  the  fhining  fcene, 
Where  foft  affection  held  her  early  reign ; 
And  chafte  enjoyment  fhed  her  conftant  ray, 
To  light,  with  radiance  mild,  my  years  away  ! 

Oft,  as  unfeen,  I  feek  the  fhady  grove, 
Scenes  of  young  joy,  and  haunts  of  early  love ; 
The  painted  meadow,  or  the  purling  ftream, 
Where  fancy  feeds,  and  where  the  mufes  dream  ; 
Where  laughing  loves  and  naked  graces  play 
n  fportive  gambols  all  the  live-long  day : 
Sudden  I  fee  your  fancy'd  form  arife ; 
See  blooming  beauties  fldm  before  my  eyes  ; 
See  ev'ry  love,  and  ev'ry  charming  grace,, 
Smile  in  your  eye,  or  languifh  on  your  face. 
I  clofer  gaze— when,  lo !  a  mournful  train 
Of  weeping  virtues  cloud  the  radiant  fcene ! 
Nor  love,  nor  blooming  beauty  ftraight  appears, 
But  ev'ry  look  a  difmal  horror  wears ; 
Obfctir'd  by  guilt,  the  dimpling  fmiles  decay, 
And  all  your  glowing  graces  fade  away  ! 
Sad,  then,  1  fit  me  down ; — or  wand'ring  reve 
Through  ev'ry  walk,  and  weep  our  ruin'd  love : 
While  ccnfciousbow'rs,andlove-frequented (hades, 
Long- winding  walks,  and  intermingled  glades, 
In  fond  remembrance  op'ningtomy  view, 
Refrefh  my  forrows,  and  my  fighs  renew  ; 
Deep  plaintive  murmurs  perifh  on  my  tongue, 
Or  flow  away  in  melancholy  fong ; 
While  all  around  the  penfive  groves  complain, 
Sigh  ev'ry  figh,  and  murmur  ev'ry  ftrain  ! 

But,  Sylvia,  what  avails  the  murm'ring  glade, 
The  fighing  grove,  or  fympathizing  fhade? 
Their  feeming  forrows  unfuccefsful  prove, 
To  footh  the  woes  of  difappointed  love ; 
To  bid  the  black- wing'd  feafons  backward  roll, 
Clear  the  foul  ftain,  or  vvafh  the  guilty  foul ; 
To  beauty's  form  fair  innocence  reftore, 
Hufh  the  falfe  tongue,  bid  flander  wound  no  more  : 
Your  crimes,  your  follies,  rife  in  endlefs  view, 
And  my  heart  fwells,  my  tears  flow  forth  for  you! 

For  you  !— but  why  invite  you  forth  to  rove 
Through  fcenes  of  forrow  and  defponding  love  ? 
Scenes  that  (for  fo  the  ruling  pow'rs  decree) 
Muft  ftill  be  view'd,  and  ftill  bewail'd  by  me ! 
Enough  for  you — with  folitary  care 
To  view  your  fall,  and  fhed  a  fecret  tear  ; 
Carelefs  of  what  the  mourning  mufe  may  fay, 
When  wild  with  forrow  burfts  the  love-lorn  lay ! 
Enough  for  you — whene'er  my  thoughts  1  caft 
On  all  the  joys  of  /youth  and  virtue  paft ; 
When  I  refled  (forgive  this  fwelling  figh, 
And  this  big  tear  juft  trickling  from  my  eye), 
When  peaceful  innocence  and  pleafure  play'd, 
With  gentle  love  beneath  our  native  fhade ; 


MISCELLANIES. 


Ajul  bade  our  hearts,  to  grief  or  care  unknown,  • 
Confefs  their  charming  influence  alone  ! 
Enough  for  you — to  grant  the  meed  I  crave, 
For  me  the  willow's  paly  wreath  to  weave ; 
And  foftly  bind  it  on  my  youthful  brow, 
Mark  of  my  pain,  and  merit  of  my  woe  '. 
This  fad  indulgence  will  reward  my  lays, 
Approve  my  grief,  and  gives  me  all  my  praife  ; 
So,  when  your  forrows  ceafe,  for  ceafie  they  muft, 
And  your  fair  form  fhall  moulder  into  duft ; 
May  forae  fad  youth,  by  pity's  lore  improv'd, 
By  virtue  honour'd,  and  the  mufe  belov'd, 
Due  to  your  fate,  devote  the  mournful  line, 
And  join  your  mem'ry  as  your  love  to  mine. 

To  mine  ! — ah,  no  !  withdraw  the  wifhful  eye, 
Check  the  foft  tear,  and  ftill  the  rifing  figh  ; 
Scatter  the  willow  wreath  you  weave  for  me, 
Who,  idly  raving,  pour  my  plaint  to  thee  1 
To  thee  1  who  doated  on  my  (trains  before ; 
To  thee  !  who  netir  (hall  behold  me  more ; 
Praife  all  your  virtues,  number  all  your  charms, 
And  fold,  untainted,  fold  them  in  my  arms! 
'Tis  o'er,  alas  !-.-the  dear  delufion's  o'er  ; 
Returning  reafon  reaffumes  her  pow'r ; 
Before  her  fwift  the  magic  fcenes  decay, 
That  fancy  gilded  with  delufive  ray; 
Your  guilt,  your  (hame,  arifing  to  her  view, 
She  tears  the  veil,  and  paints  their  real  hue; 
Unmantled  follies  Hand  around  confeft, 
And  wounded  honour  bares  the  bleeding  breaft  ; 
While  none  remains  of  all  the  tender  train; 
But  foft-ey'd  pity's  idly  ling'ring  ftrain  ! 

Farewell,  weak  maidi  unmercifully  long, 
I  pain  your  ear  with  an  ungentle  fong ; 
But,  ere  I  leave  you,  liften  to  the  lay 
That  wears  no  woe,  and  weeps  no  worth  away  ; 
Friendfhip  refin'd  infpiresthe  ferious^  theme, 
And  reafon  lights  it  with  her  radiant  beam  ; 
While  the  big  thought  is  lab'ring  in  my  breaft, 
That  foon  the  poet,  foon  the  tbng  will  reft, 
Soon  will  my  forrows,  my  reflections,  end ; 
Youlofe  a  lover,  and  lament  a  friend  ! 

Where  meek-rob'd  penitence,  of  placid  mien, 
Per  eye  mild- beaming,  and  her  brow  ferene, 
Sedately  fits,  uplift  a  figh  fmcere  ; 
Her  fmile  alone  will  ruin'd  love  repair; 
Smooth  the  rough   path  that  leads    to  virtue's 

god, 

And  urge  you  lingering  on  the  arduous  road ; 
Your  wav'ring  foul  with  confidence  confirm, 
Infpire  with  caution,  and  with  courage  arm ; 
Bid  it  at  vice  with  indignation  rife, 
Scorn  all  below,  and  hope  its  native  fkies, 
Contemn  the  pleafures  that  arife  from  fenfe, 
Dare  to  be  good,  and  aim  at  excellence. 
And  though  condemn'd  by  dooming  pow'rs  above 
To  live  far  diftant  from  the  man  you  love  ; 
The  irkfome  path  of  life  alone  to  tread, 
No  friend  to  counfe!,  and  no  hand  to  lead ; 
Regarding  Heav'n  will  glad  your  weary  way, 
And  blaze  around  a  reconciling  ray  ; 
Winning  and  kind,  the  wand'ring  wifli  reprove, 
And  grant  in  grace  what  is  cleny'd  in  love  ; 
Mild  to  forgive,  and  piteous  of  the  paft, 
Releafe  from  life,  and  crown  with  joy  at  lad  ; 
Command  the  blow  that  turns  your  frame  to  duft 
Bids  grief  fubfide,  and  ev'ry  figh  be  hufh'd  J 


Bids  fure  oblivion  o'er  your  folliej  creep, 
And  lull  you  peaceful  in  eternal  fleep. 
Sept,  5.  1769. 

TO  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

WHILE  youth  yet  fcampers  in  its  wild  career, 
And  life's  mad  buftle  vibrates  on  our  ear; 
While  frolic's  loofer  merriments  delight, 
And  delicacy  yields  to  appetite  ; 
Why  ftrives  my  friend  by  itudies  too  fevere, 
To  antedate  the  tyranny  of  caiv  ? 
To  weaken  principles  already  weak, 
The  very  principles  by  which  we  aci  ? 
Thefe  bug-bear  paflions  that  affright  youfo. 
Procure  us  all  the  happinefs  we  know; 
From  their  repofe  rei'ults  the  calm  of  life, 
But  greater  blifs  accompanies  their  ftrife  ; 
And  when  their  gen'rous  efforts  you  fubdue, 
You  only  do  what  fager  time  would  do ; 
If  war  was  deftin'd  for  each  living  wight, 
Why  has  not  nature  arm'd  us  for  the  fight  ? 
Chaftis'd  the  flowing  current  of  our  blood, 
And  difengag'd  us  from  the  fair  and  good  ? 
Each  human  heart  in  Stygian  armour  drcft, 
And  Im'd  with  triple  brat's  each  ruffian  breaft  ? 

How  happy  youth  1  if  youth  it|  blifs  but  knew  ; 
Theirs  is  the  prefent,  theirs  the  future  too  ; 
Where'er  they  turn,  enjoyment  courts  their  eye, 
Enjoyment  not  forbidden  by  the  (ky  : 
Here,  walk  the  fairy  fantoms  of  the  grove, 
Young  friendfhip  leaning  on  the  arms  of  love; 
There,  fame  in  air  difplays  the  gaudy  crown, 
By  fages,  heroes,  poets,  patriots,  won. 

Come,  let  us  now  each  pleafant  fcene  enjoy, 
Ere  age's  wither'd  hands  their  fweets  deftroy  -t 
Sweep  all  away,  and  nothing  leave  behind 
But  philofophic  apathy  of  miud. 


ELEGIAC  BALLAD. 

AlL  on  the  grafs-green  margin  of  Clyde, 

A  fair  maiden  difconfolate  lay ; 
Red-fwoln  was  her  eye  with  the  fait  trickling  tear, 

And  her  cheek  was  as  pale  as  the  clay. 

Wither'd  and  wan  was  her  rofe-red  lip, 

And  the  charms  of  her  youth  were  all  flown; 

Like  a  flow'r  that  is  fcorch'd  by  the  mid-furmner 

heat, 
Or  is  plucked  before  it  be  blown. 

Loofe  on  her  neck  hung  her  long  long  hair, 
No  green  garland  the  ringlets  combin'd  ; 

Of  Damon's  falfe  vows,  and  his  late  pledged  troth,. 
And  of  mis'ry,  flie  fung  to  the  wind. 

"  Clyde,  Clyde  !  roll  on  your  clear  cryftal  waves, 
(It  was  thus  with  a  figh  (he  began)  ; 

But  roll  where  you  will,  you  never  will  find 
Such  a  lovely  and  faithlefs  young  man. 

Beware,  O  !  beware,  ye  fond,  fond  maids ! 

O  !  beware,  and  take  warning  by  me  ! 
Nay,  truft  not  a  fwain  though  he  fwears  to  b« 
true, 

They  are  falfe,  b^t  not  lovely  as  he. 


THE   WORKS   OF   GRJEME. 


It  was  In  yon  ofier  leaf-lin'd  bow'r 

O  !  too  well  J  remember  the  place  ;        [twigs 
For  my   own   finger*   wove   the   green   bendin 

And  he  cover*d  the  benches  with  grafs :    . 

That  he  took  me  in  his  feft  circling  arms, 
And  did  foncliingly  kifs  me  the  while  ; 

But  beware,   O !    beware  ot  the  heart-ftealing 

kifs, 
For  men  kifs  where  they  mean  to  beguile — 

Sylvia  !  to  hang  on  thy  lily-white  reck, 
And  to  prefs  thv  fair  uofom  ro  mine. 

Is  enough  ;  yes,  away  with  bale  dirty  pelf, 
'Tis  enough,  'tis  enough  to  be  thine. 

Proud  damfels  may  det  k  them  in  fine  rich  array, 

And  ev'ry  rude  feature  adorn  ; 
v   But  can   riches,   or  pride,   e'er  attire  them  like 

thee, 
In  the  purple  and  frefhnefs  of  morn  ? 

4  Away,  foolifh  grandeur  !  I'll  ne'er  change  ray 

love, 

'  Or  this  kifs,  this  fweet  kifs,  be  my  laft  : — 
'  Yes,  the  gods  who  do  took  through  this  leaf- 
lin'd  bow'r 
'  Can  bear  witnefshow  truly  I'm  b'eft.' 

Such,  fuch  were  his  words,  then  more  clofe  to 
his  breaft, 

With  full  many  a  figh  he  me  drew ; 
So  kind,  fo  fincere,  and  fe  hearty  they  feem'd, 

That  I  could  not  but  think  they  were  true. 

Aflc  not,  O  !  afk  not,  ye  four  four  maids, 

If  more  than  a  kifs  he  did  won ; 
Think,   but  think  on  the  place,  and   the  dear, 
dear  youth, 

And  then  tell  me,  what  would  you  have  done  ? 

How  frail  and  how  feeble  a  fond  maid's  blifs, 
Overturn'd  by  all  breezes  that  blow  ! 

How  weak  is  the  barrier,  how  narrow  the  line, 
That  does  fep'rate  our  love  from  our  woe  ! 

Where  are  ye  now,  ye  falfe  flatt'ring  joys ! 

Ye  projects  of  pleafures  unknown  ? 
Like  Damon,  ye  faithlels  have  left  me  to  weep, 

And  ye  with  him  to  Clara  are  flown. 

O  !  do  not  receive  them,  thon  rafh,  rafli  maid  ! 

Or,  farewell  thy  quiet  of  mind  ; 
They  may  charm  ior  a  little,  but  yet,  yet  be 
ware 

Of  a  poifon  that  fefters  behind. 

Look  but  on  me  ;  nay,  nay,  never  fear, 

I'm  a  rival  you  fcarcelf  can  Urtad ; 
No  rofes  now  bloom  on  this  pale  lily  cheek, 

Nor  is  mine  the  fair  flock  that  I  feed. 

Look  yet  again,  and  tell  unto  »<•, 

And,  O  !  fee  it  be  truth  that  you  tell ; 

Can  your  fondnefs  fecure  yoi4  the  falfe  wand'ring 

fwain, 
When  I'm  thus  but  for  loving  too  well  ? 

Away,  hafte  away,  ye  flow,  flow  hours ! 

And  he  dipt,  O  you  fun  !   in  the  fea  : 
Ah  me  I  I  but  rave  ;  for  fne  time  is  no  more 

When  the  ev'uing  brought  comfort  to  me. 


Sad,  ever  fad  ! — is  there  no  kind  cure  ? 

Not  a  balfam  provided  for  woe  ? 
O,  tell  me,  fome  angel '.  in  what  happy  clime 

Does  the  precious  remedy  grow  ? 

Kindly  remember'd,  thou  fire-clad  fprite  '. 

It  is  there,  it  is  certainly  there  ; 
And  foon  will  I  feek  in  the  cold  darkfome  grave 

For  a  balfam  to  love  and  defpair.'* 

HYMN 

TO  THI    ETERNAL  MIND. 

HAIL,  fource  of  happinefs !  whate'er  thy  name, 
Through  ages  vaft  fucceflion  ftiJi  the  fame  ; 
For  ever  bleft,  in  giving  others  bifs 
No  boon  thou  afkeit  of  thy  reptile  race  ; 
Their  virtues  pleafe  tbee,  and  their  crimes  offenij 
Not  as  a  governor,  but  as  a  friend : 
What  can  our  gooiinefs  profit  thee  ?  and  fay, 
Can  guilt's  black  dye  thy  happinefs  allay? 
Raile  vengeful  paffions  in  thy  heav'nly  mind, 
f'afnons  that  tv'n  difgrace  the  human  kind  ? 
'N'o :  are  we  wife  ?  the  wildom  is  our  own  ; 
\nd  folly's  mis'ries  wait  on  fools  alone  : 
We  live  and  breathe  by  thy  divine  command, 
Our  life,  our  breath,  are  in  thj  holy  hand  ; 
But  foinething  ftili  is  ours,  and  only  ours, 
A  moral  nature,  grac'd  with  moral  pow'rs, 
l'h\  perfect  gift,  unlimited  and  free, 
Without  refcrve  of  fervice,  or  of  fee. 
Poor  were  the  gift,  if  given  but  to  bind 
'n  everlailing  tetters  ail  mankind  ! 
To  bind  us  o'er  to  debts  we  ne'er  could  pay, 
And  for  our  torment  cheat  u>  into  day  ! 
Not  thus  thou  dealeft,  fure  it  is>  not  thus, 
Tattler  beneficent !   with  all,  with  us  ! 
Thou  form'd'ft  our  fouls  fufceptible  of  blifs, 
n  fpite  of  circumftance,  of  time  and  place  ; 
\  blifs  internal,  ev'ry  way  our  own, 
iVhich  nor.e  can  forfeit,  is  deny'd  to  none ; 
ror  ever  forfeit ;  for  our  freedom's  lucb, 
Tis  fcorn'dor  courted,  itill  within  our  reach; 
And  if  we  fink  to  mifery  and  woe, 
Thou  neither  made  us,  nor  decreed  us  fo  ; 
'erfeclion  in  a  creature  cannot  dwell, 
ome  men  Lave  fallen,  and  fome  yet  may  fall; 
Vlany  the  baits  that  tempt  our  fteps  t.',l>ay, 
?rom  reafon's  dictates,  and  from  wifdom's  way. 
>ut,  hail,  Eternal  Efience  !  ever  hail '. 
"hough  vice  now  triumph,  patlicn  now  prevail^ 
'hough  all  mould  err,  yet  ail  are  fu»-e  to  find 
n  thee  a  father  !   a::d  in  thee  a  friend  ! 

friend,  to  overlook  the  mortal  part, 
"he  crimes,  the  follies  foreign  to  the  heart, 

A  FIT  OF  THE  SPLEEN. 

VHAT  is  this  creature  man,  wh,o  ftruts  the  worldt, 
iVith  ib  much  majelty  ? — A  frightful  dream  ! 
V  midnight  goblin,  and  a  retilefs  ghoft; 
eavirig  the  difmal  regions  of  the  tomb, 
'o  walk  in  darknefs,  and  aftonifli  night, 
With  hideous  veilings,  and  with  piteous  groans! 
The  radiant  orbs  that  glitter  o'er  your  heads, 
Vhat  are  theymore  than  lamps  in  fepulchres  J 


MISCELLANIES. 


/That  ihine  on  "dead  men  bones,  and  point  out 

death, 

Misfortune,  forrow,  mifery,  and  woe, 
And  all  the  fad  innumerable  ills 
That  blazon  the  efcutheon  of  mortality  '. 
A  horror  viiible  !  than  which  the  (hades, 
The  thickeft  midnight  fhades,  Cimmerian  glooms, 
Were  clearer  funflitne,  and  more  wifhful  day  ' 

The  mountain's  fragrance,  and  the  meadow's 

growth, 

The  vernal  bloflbm,  and  the  fnmmer's  flow'r, 
Are  but  funereal  garlands,  nature  ftrows 
Munificent  on  this  ftupendous  herfe, 
This  decorated  prelude  to  the  grave  ; 
Infatiable  monfter  !  yawning  ftill, 
Unfathomablv  deep  !  —  A  little  while, 
And  lo  !  he  clofes  on  the  painted  fcene, 
And,  furfeited  with  carnage,  yawns  no  more  ! 

Say,  what  is  life  ?  —  this  privilege  to  breathe  ? 
But  a  continued  figh  —  a  lengthen'd  groan  — 
A  felt  mortality—  a  fenfe  of  pain  — 
A  prefent  evil,  ftill  foreboding  worfe— 
A  church-yard  epitaph—  a  plaintive  fong— 
A  mournful  univerfal  eleg-y, 
We  ever  read,  and  ever  read  with  tears  ! 

HERO  AND  LEANDER. 

IN  TWO  BOOKS. 

From  the  Creek  of  Mufxus. 


Ks3»/r  xaxoi 


ivyi 


ywfa.ix.eai  fl$t*  ftvfot 
.  -     NAUM.  GNOM. 

BOOK  I. 


SING,  heav'nly  maid  !  the  memorable  lamp 
Confcious  of  fecret  loves,  and  che  bold  youth 
Who  nightly  brav'd  the  horrors  of  the  deep, 
Courting  a  dark  embrace,  and  filent  joys, 
On  which  the  morn  immortal  never  dawn'd  ; 
That  famous  lamp,  by  whofe  aufpicious  ray 
The  amorous  Leander  fafely  fwam 
To  ancient  Seftus,  and  the  longing  arms 
Of  his  fond  miftrefs,  who  with  watchful  care 
Tended  its  nightly  radiance,  and  renew'd 
Its  failing  flame  ;  till  one  malignant  hour 
Saw  it  extinguifli'd,  and  Leander  dead. 

Fall  by  the  margin  of  the  founding  deep, 
In  a  fequefter'd  tow'r,  a  rev'rend  pile, 
The  work  of  other  days,  belovM  of  all, 
The  moueft  pneftefs  of  the  Cyprian  queen, 
Fair  Hero  dwelt  ;  unfpotted  wai  the  maid, 
And  unexperienc'd  in  the  dangerous  fweets 
Of  mutual  love.  She  (hunn'd  the  fecret  haunts 
Of  gu;leful  pleafure,  where  her  wanton  peers, 
To  youthful  dalliance,  and  illicit  joys, 
Gave  up  their  vanquiQi'd  louls      But  in  the  fane 
•With  duteous  hand  on  Venus'  altar  burnt 
The  fragrant  produce  of  .babsean  ?,roves, 
Propitiating  th-  godilefs.  and  her  (on 
AH-conqu'ring  love—  i<el?ntlefV  favage  pow'r  ! 
Could  not  ths  piety  o   the  lovely  mnid 
Unbend  thy  (tiibborn  bow  ?  b^r  n'eading  tears 
Avert  thy  fatal  arrows  ?  —  No     (he  fell 
The  haplcfs  victim  of  thy  cruel  art.  . 


Now  came  the  day  through  Ada's  wide  domains 

To  Venus  facred,  and  the  purple  wounds 

Of  beautiful  Adonis. — All  the  youth 

Of  fea-girt  Cyprus  and  Hiemonia  come 

To  hold  the  feftival. — Each  virgin  leaves 

Her  dance  unfinifli'd  on  thy  fragrant  top 

Libanus  !  and  thy  foft  luxurious  fons 

On  the  tall  cedars  hang  their  ufelefs  harps 

And  throng  to  Seftus. — All  whofe  tender  breaft        » 

Exults  impaffion'd  at  the  pow'rful  glance 

Of  female  beauty  on  the  Phrygian  plains, 

And  thine  Arcadia  !  but  chiefly  thine 

Delicious  Daphne !  §yria's  blisful  grove 

Crowd  thither  alfo ;  and  along  with  thefe 

The  youth  of  Abydos,  fcarce  disjonVd    . 

By  Heliei'pontic  ftraits  from  Europe's  fliores, 

And  ancient  Seftus  ' . — Hero  through  the  fane  • 

In  all  the  majefty  of  beauty  walk'd, 

Performing  cv'ry  rite;  her  blulhing  cheek 

Shed  a  foft  lu'lre  round ;  as  when  the  fun 

Gilds  wi>h  his  early  beams  a  vernal  mead, 

Where,  dropt  with  dew,  the  rofe  and  lily  blen«l 

In  fweet  afiemblage. — Loofely  thrown  behind, 

A  fnowy  garment  brufh'd  her  ftately  fteps, 

With  fiiver  fringes  deck'd. — The  giaces  fmil'd 

In  ev'ry  feature,  ev'ry  look  ; — eafe  fat 

On  ev'ry  limb ; — each  attitude  confefs'd 

A  prieftefs  worthy  of  the  queen  of  love. 

Each  youth  istill'd  with  ravifhment,  each  bread 

Heaves  with  defire.— Where'er  the  virgin  goes, 

She  quickly  fpreads  the  foft  contagion  round  ; 

And  pray'rs  like  thefe  are  heard  through  all  the 

fane. 

"  Cytherean  Venus,  or  if  Ida's  grove, 
"  Or  Carian  Cnidiu,  pleafe  thee  more !  attend 
"  My  earneft  fuit. — Be  this!  be  this  the  maid 
"  Ddtin'd  for  me,  when  in  the  fated  hour 
"  I  kindle  up  the  Hymeneal  torch, 
"  And  leave  thy  altars  ;  if,  like  one  of  us, 
"  The  earth's  increafe  fuffices  for  her  food, 
"  And  nourifhes  her  lovely  frame : — But  if 
"  (As  is  more  likely)  an  immortal  Ihe 
"  Of  thy  Tekftial  train,  be  fuch  the  fair, 
".  Th'  immortal  fair,  the  fates  have  marjt'd  my 

"  wife." 

Such  was  the  univerfal  pray'r. — But  thou, 
Leander  !  fir'd  with  a  fublimer  Same, 
And  inextinguifliable  ardour,  didft 
Greatly  refolve  to  gain  the  beauteous  maid, 
Or  fall  die  vi&im  of  a  fruitlefs  love. 

The  uncorrupted  torch  of  pure  defire 
Flalh'd  in  his  eager  ear;  his  bofom  glow'd 
With  an  unufual  warmth ; — a  confcious  blu/h 
Suffus'd  his  burning  cheek,  and  trembling  feiz'd 
His  loofen'd  knees,  and  (hook  his  manly  frame. 
Thrice  he  attempted  to  accoft  her,  thrice 
Amazement,  fear,  and  reverence  reprefs'd 
His  meditated  words. — At  laft  his  love, 
Impatient  of  controul,  o'ercame  his  fears. 

Veiling  his  real  intent  in  artful  guife 
Of  curious  inojjirj,  with  filent  tread 
He  fteals  to  where  the  maiden  flood,  amid 
A  menial  crain. — He  joins  himfelf  to  thefe, 
Feigning  fome  matter  of  difcourfe. — Meanwhile 

*  The  Jlruit  it  only  half  a  mile  over,  about  three 
miles  from  the  Dardanelles,  where  the  ruins  oftbefe  cititf 
are  tt  befeen. 


THE   WORKS    OF   BRUSE. 


The  deep-dnrwn  figh,  the  languifhing  regard, 

The  downcafl  penfive  look,  and  frequent  blufh, 

Soliciting  attention,  did  attract 

Her  ferious  notice ; — then,  lefs  fearful  grown, 

He  rais'd  his  eye,  while  ev'ry  wifhful  glance 

Betray'd  his  inmoft  foul. — She,  not  unpleas'd, 

Beheld  his  infant-love,  and  nought  averfe 

To  the  foft  intercourfe,  with  a  regard 

Of  infinite  complacency  receiv'd 

Each  token  of  his  paffion : — Oft  fhe  veil'd 

In  virgin  modefty  her  blufhing  cheek; 

In  vain  fhe  veil'd!  her "bofom's tell-tale  heave 

Faft  not  unnoted  ;  ev'n  the  very  blufh, 

But  ill  conceal'd  ;  each  favourable  fign 

Did  not  efcape  a  lover's  watchful  eye. 

Now  night  in  filent  majefty  advanc'd, 
Wrapt  in  her  ftarry  mantle : — Hefperus, 
Propitious  to  love,  with  grateful  blaze 
Flam'd  on  heav'n's  azure  front. — The  menial  train 
Forfook  the  miftrefs; — eV'ry  thing  confpir'd 
To  further  his  defign. — He  boldly  feiz'd 
Her  lily  hand,  and  prefs'd  it  to  his  lips 
With  many  a  gentle  fqueeze,  and  fighing  foft, 
Whifper'd  his  tender  paffion  in  her  ear. 
She,  fullenly  indignant,  did  withdraw 
Her  lovely  lily  hand  : — He,  nought  difmay'd, 
Still  perfever'd,  and  by  the  Clver  fringe 
Of  her  white  garment,  dragg'd  the  bafhful  fair, 
Apparently  reludlant,  from  the  crowd 
To  the  dread  penetralia  of  the  fane ; 
Where  fhe  at  length  gave  loofe  to  her  complaints. 
And  chid  Leandcr  thus: — Rude  ftranger,  fay, 
"  Whence  this  prefumption  ?  Think  you  me  fo 

"  light, 

"  So  cheap  a  thing,  fo  impotent  of  foul, 
"  As  to  be  won  by  ev'ry  breath  of  praife  ? 
"  To  ftoop  and  liften  to  the  tedious  tale 
"  Of  ev'ry  fulfome  flatterer  ?  away ! 
"  And  dread  the  vengeance  of  a  pow'rful  fire." 

Thus  fhe  in  maiden  dignity ;  nor  wifh'd 
Her  threats  fuccefsful.  While  in  foothing  mood 
Leander  thus  began;  and,  fpeaking,  kifs'd 
Her  fragrant  neck.  "  O  fair  above  the  fex  ! 
Upon  my  heaving  breaft,  immortal  blifs 
And  real  rapturelet  me  ever  drink 
Delighted ; — ever  dwell  upon  thy  lips 
In  facred  tranfport : — Thus  to  clafp  thee — thus 
Embrace  thy  charms,  is  happinefs  beyond 
The  narrow  limits  and  invidious  bourne 
Of  weak  mortality. — I  feel  my  foul 
Glow  with  diviner  fire,  and  foar  above 
This  humble  fcene  of  things. — Depriv'd  of  this, 
Not  all  the  treafur'd  ore,  nor  num'rous  herds 
That  graze  a  thoufand  hills,  nor  gilded  ftate 
Of  purpl'd  tyrants,  nor  the  olive  crown 
Gain'd  with  th'  applaufes  of  affombled  Greece 
On  the  Ele'an  plains,  could  ever  draw 
One  wifh  of  life,  to  tread  its  irkfome  rounds  ! 
To  crawl  the  reptile  prey  of  ev'ry  care, 
So  faU'n  from  what  I  am  !  fo  abjecl ! — Yes, 
I'd  rufh  on  hon-exiftence,  and  defy 
The  filent  regions  of  the  dead,  to  fhow 
In  all  their  bounds  a  mifery  like  this. 
If  I  muft  lofe  thee,  call  thy  father  in 
While  yet  I  hang  upon  thy  neck  and  quaff 
Immortal  pleafures ;  let  him  ftab  me  here ; 
I'll  thank  him  for  his  pains,  my  lateft  breath 
Shall  blcfs  the  hand  that  gave  the  timely  blow.— 


But  why  this  difmal  apparatus  ?  \vhy 
This  melancholy  profpe<St — this  expence 
Of  dreadful  images  ?  What  hinders  now 
The  fweet  indulgence  of  a  lawful  flame  ? 
The  time,  the  place,  but  moft  of  all  the  voice, 
The  filent  pow'rful  voice  of  nature  calls 
Sweetly  perfuafive  on  us,  to  obey 
Her  pleafant  facred  mandates,  and  fulfil 
Her  fovereign  decree. — Black  darknefs  round 
Extends  a  negro-covering,  and  fecures 
Our  mutual  tranfports  from  the  impious  eye 
Of  envious  cens'ring  man ; — and  hov'ring  near 
The  milling  goddels  from  her  dove-drawn  car 
Looks  down  complacent,  and  approves  each  joy, 
Each  heart-felt  rapture  of  her  youthful  guefts." 
Thus  he  impaffion'dfpoke. — While  ev'ry  word, 
Each  glowing  kifs,  and  ev'ry  mournful  figh, 
More  prevalent  than  words,  the  winning  fpeech ! 
The  faft  pathetic  eloquence  of  love  ! 
Found  but  too  eafy  credit. — On  the  earth 
She  fix'd  her  azure  eye,  and  paflive  flood 
In  bafhful  filence; — Clence,  the  confent 
Of  yielding  maids  unpraclis'd.  Oft  fhe  drew 
Around  her  fuowy  breaft  the  loofe  hung  robe; 
As  oft  th'  invidious  garment  was  remov'd 
By  vagrant  hands  licentious.  Then  at  length, 
Though  too,  too  late !  collecting  th?  remains 
The  laft  weak  efforts  of  a  virgin  fhame, 
She  pufh'd  him  gently  from  her,  and  befpoke 
The  lovely  ftranger  thus  : — "  In  vain  you  know 
"  Each  paffage  to  the  heart !  in  vain  poffefs 
"  The  various  eloquence  of  words !  perhaps 
"  The  next  propitious  gale  may  waft  you  hence 
"  A  faithlefs  wand'rer,  leaving  me  to  mourn 
"  Your  broken  vows,  and  ev'ry  holy  bond 
"  Tranfgrefs'd  ;  each  holy  bond,  and  ev'ry  vow, 
"  In  fccret  darknefs  fworn: — For  open  rites, 
"  And   Hymen's  outward  pomp,  my  wayward 

"  fate 

"  And  an  inexorable  fire  deny  ! 
*  Say,  if  an  exile  from  your  natal  more, 
"  A  fojourner  in  Seftus,  could  your  tongue 
"  Conceal  the  iavours  of  a  loving  maid, 
"  And  give  to  deepeft  night  each  fond  excefs 
"'Of  her  affe&ion  ?  Ah !  the  tongue  of  man 
"  Is  prone  to  fcandal: — Could  you  hear  me  prais'd 
"  For  modeft  charms  and  chaftity,  nor  yet 
"  In  youthful  pride  betray  me  to  the  world  ? 
"  Perhaps  I  ev'n  might  truft  you. — But  declare 
"  Your  name,  your  country,  and  your  father'f 

"  houfe; 

"  For  mine  you  know  : — Illuftrious  Hero  I, 
"  The  prieftefs  of  this  fane,  condemn'd  to  dwell 
"  By  cruel  parents  in  a  lonely  tow'r 
"  By  the  rough  Hellefpont;  far,  far  remov'd 
"  From  the  fociety  of  man,  ai;d  all 
"  My  maiden  equals !   Nightly  in  my  ears 
"  The  hollow  winds  fing  mournful,  and  the  wave 
"  Beats  on  the  rock  below  with  horrid  clafh, 
"  And  (hakes  the  aged   dome  ; — while   on  my 

"  couch, 

"  My  folitary  couch,  I  trembling  lie, 
"  And  mourn  my  lucklefs  fate  with  many-  a  tear." 
Thusblufhing  fhe. — And  thus  the  amorousyoutb. 
Incontinent  returns: — "  Down,  coward  fear! 
"  Let  angry  tempefts  rage,  and  ev'ry  wind 
"  Turmoil  the  furgy  deep,  I'll  boldly  cleave 
"  The  founding  waters.— What  is  danger  ?  what 


MISCELLANIES. 


"  Death,  in  his  form  mofl  frightful,  when  com- 

"  par'd 

With  the  fweet  hope  of  lofing  all  my  cares 
In  pureft  ecftafy  and  chafte  delight 
On  my  fair  Hero's  bofom  ?  Yes,  dear  maid ! 
I'll  nightly  fwim  the  Hellefpont  to  thee, 
And  blefs  his  boift'rous  billows,  and  his  fhores 
Rocky  and  fteep,  that  gracioufly  afford 
An  opportunity  to  try  my  love. 
In  ftrong  Abydos,  the  confpicuous  dome 
Of  my  old  fire  Euryalus  the  fage, 
An  honour'd  name,  who  haply  now  laments 
In  cheerlefs  folitude  Leander's  flay, 
His  lov'd,  his  only  fon,  (lands  eminent 
Juft  oppofite  to  this,  and  clearly  mark'd 
By  day ;  now  buried  in  impervious  fhade. 
Doubt  not  my  pledged  faith  ; — do  only  thou 
"  Let  a  pale  lamp  extend  a  glimm'ring  ray 
"  Athwart  the  midnight  gloom,  to  point  the  path 
"  And  guide  my  doubtful  courfe. — I  afk  no  more, 
"  But  leave  the  reft  to  providence  and  heav'n.'" 
Struck  with  amazement  at  fo  bold  a  thought, 
So  daring  a  refolve,  fhe  grafp'd  the  youth 
Clofe  to  her  panting  bread,  and  kindly  wifh'd 
The  gods  would  profper  the  attempt. — She  fear'd 
There  might  be  danger  in  it ; — yet  fhe  hop'd 
The  fea-born  Venus  would  confirm  his  nerves, 
And  fmooth  the  deep  before  his  adlive  arm. 

The  night  was  far  advanc'd.     Leander's  mates, 
Impatient  to  be  gone,  in  noify  hafte 
Call'd  loudly  on  him  :  The  ungrateful  found 
Reach'd  his  unwilling  ears  ;  he  fudden  fnatch'd 
A  parting  kifs,  and  join'd  the  clam'rous  crew. 
While  fad  and  penfive  Hero  left  the  fane, 
Revolving  in  her  mind  the  midnight  lamp, 
The  dangers  of  the  deep,  its  rocky  fhores, 
And  all  that  might  obflrudt  Leander's  love. 

BOOK  II. 

Now  rifing  ruddy  from  Tithonus'  bed, 
The  young  Aurora  urg'd  her  dappl'd  fteeds 
Along  the  broad  celeftial  way,  and  chas'd 
Relu&aat  darknefs  to  the  weftern  world ; 
Each  fragrant  flow'ret  of  the  humble  vale 
With  pearly  dew-drops  hung,  a  deeper  blufh, 
A  frefher  glow  affum'd,  and  fun-burnt  hills 
A  greener  mantle  wore. — The  fons  of  Greece 
Forfook  the  downy  couch,  and  rang'd  the  wood 
Profufe  of  melody  ;  or  arduous  fcal'd 
The  verdant  fummit,  or  more  gently  trac'd 
The  flow'ry  mazes  of  fomc  murm'ring  brook, 
As  chance  or  fancy  led.     But  by  the  fhore, 
Apart  from  all,  Leander  thoughtful  fat, 
And  on  fair  Hero's  lonely  manfion  fix'd 
His  eye  unwearied,  wifhing  for  the  dark, 
The  favourable  hour,  the  hour  of  love  : 
His  unbent  bow  and  harmlefs  quiver  lay 
Negle&ed  on  the  rock,  while  round  his  head 
Unhurt,  the  fca-mew  and  the  fcreaming  hern 
Skim'd  with  inceffant  jdang. — No  more  his  foul 
Pants  for  the  bloody  ceflus,  or  exults 
To  hurl  the  jav'lin,  or  the  weighty  difk, 
Beyond  his  peers :— In  vain  his  mettl'd  fteeds 
Demand  their  wonted  courfe,  and  neighing  paw 
Their  ftalls  indignant ;  he  regards  them  not : 
His  fecret  nuptials,  and  his  fpoufe's  charms, 
Yet  uncnjoy'd,  engage  his  ev'ry  care, 
AH  J  vindicate  each  thought.— At  laft  arriv'd 


463 


The  long-expected  hour. — Solemn  and  flow 
Night  reaffuni'd  her  ebon  throne  ;  the  breeze 
Blew  keener  from  the  fhore,  and  onward  roll'd 
More   lengthen'd   billows ;    while  the  wither'd 

grafs 

Long-rankling  on  the  fea-beat  cliff,  in  ftraius 
More  fadly-pleafing  footh'd  the  penfive  ear. 
Athwart  the  filent  face  of  night,  now  gleam'd 
The  red-blue  taper,  with  a  fickly  ray 
Diffus'd  around;  not  much  unlike  the  fad, 
The  dreary  glare  of  bearded  comets,  feea 
By  the  obfervant  fage  to  fhoot  along 
Their  lengthen'd  orbits  of  an  hundred  years ; 
Immenfely  rapid ! — Straight  Leander  hail'd 
The  glad  appearance,  and  his  filken  robe. 
Of  thinneft  texture  from  the  Tyrian  loom, 
Buoyant  and  light,  collected  on  his  head, 
He  careful  bound  ;  in  act  to  plunge  he  flood, 
R  ecklefs  of  danger,  when  a  threat'ning  wave, 
Of  more  than  ufual  bulk,  enormous,  dafh'd 
The  murm'ring  fhore,  and  cover'd  all  his  limbs 
With  floating  tea-weed  ;  then  a  fudd«n  fear 
Congeal' d  him  to  the  rock  ;  with  both  his  hands 
Immovcable  he  clung.     But  foon  his  love 
Reflor'd  his  wonted  warmth: — The  ridgy  wave» 
Forfaken  by  the  gale  fubfiding  funk 
To  fweet  repofe,  on  the  unruffled  breaft 
Of  their  cerulean  fire  ;  with  active  bound, 
And  arms  extended,  from  the  craggy  fhore 
He  leapt  impetuous,  while  the  clofing  main 
Refounded  to  his  fall ;  the  gathering  foam 
In  fhining  circles  girt  his  manly  neck 
Emerging  from  the  water. — But  the  maid 
By  the  pale  lamp  flood  watchful,  and  would  oft 
Oppofe  her  mantle  to  the  eddy  breeze 
Threat'ning  its  friendly  radiance ;  or  would  ftcal 
With  filent  fleps  to  where  the  aged  nurfe 
In  peaceful  Cumbers  clos'd  her  rheumy  eyes  ; 
Left  haply  fome  returning  flow  of  phlegm, 
Some  periodic  gout,  or  racking  ach, 
Should  roufe  the  tefty  matron,  and  betray 
Their  fecret  correfpondence. — Thus  employ'd, 
Breathlefs  and  fpent  with  toil,  Leander  reach'd 
The  wifhf ul^ harbour :  To  the  nuptial  couch 
She  IccThim,  leaning  on  her  breaft,  and  wip'd 
The  brine  offenfive  from  his  fhiv'ring  limbs, 
And  wrung  his  lovely  locks ;  a  pleafant  tafk  ! 
A  grateful  labour!  interrupted  oft 
With  mute  embraces :  then  fhe  on  his  head 
Pour'd  precious  ointment,  and  the  foft'ning  balm, 
Of  Syrian  groves,  moft  favoury,  and  cheer'd 
His  drooping  fpirits  thus : — "  My  charming  youth 
Much  haft  thou  fuffer'd,  well  approv'd  thy  faith, 
But  now  'tis  paft,  the  mighty  danger's  o'er ! 
The  couch  is  ready,  and  thy  fpoufe's  arms 
Are  open  to  receive  thee  ;  here  enjoy 
The  happy  fruits  of  all  thy  hardy  toils. 
Here,  Leander !  let  me  lull  thy  foul 
In  bleft  oblivion  of  the  wind  and  wave.1' 
Reftor'd  to  wonted  vigour,  and  improv'd 
In  manly  graces,  he  no  longer  fhunn'd 
The  fond,  the  am'rous  conteft ;  but  unloos'd 
The  maiden  girdle. — Silent  were  their  joys ! 
No  chofen  youth  with  melody  and  fong 
Led  up  the  mazy  dance ;  no  facred  bard, 
Infpir'd  of  heav'n,  attun'd  the  melting  lyre 
To  hallowed  numbers,  and  the  hidden  fweets 
Of  Hymen's  myftic  kingdom,  the  domain 


THE   WORKS   OF  GRAEME. 


Of  lawful  pleafures ! — With  the  fragrant  growth 
Of  bhiihiujr  n.'.adows,  and  the  vtrdant  boughs 
Of  fpr -ading  palms,  no  virgin  train  adorn'd 
The  rrptial  couch; — no  venerable  fire, 
No  rev'rend  mother,  fung  wirh  quav'ring  lips 
The  vifhful  Hymeneals ;  and  no  torch 
Illum'd  the  bridal  chamber: — Darkncfs  veil'd 
The  hap"--  p-iir,  and  confcious  night  diffus'd 
Her  (hadowi  rouud  them;    while,    unfeen,   un 
heard, 

The  fylvan  deities,  to  rckflJal  airs, 
Liight  fwept  the  floor  in  an  immortal  dance. 
But  drowfy  Somnus  by  Almena's  couch, 
Fair  Hero's  guardian,  took  his  filent  ftand, 
And  bath'd  her  temples  in  the  pow'rful  juice 
Of  midnight  herbs,  inducing  fweet  refpite 
From  all  the  dread  infirmities  of  age, 
The  panting  afthma,  and  the  piercing  pain 
Of  joint  contracting  aches;  where'er  it  fheds 
Its  balmy  influence,  no  fcalding  rheum 
The  deep  funk  eye-balls  ftreaks  with  fiery  red, 
Averting  peaceful  {lumbers. — Soft  fhe  lay 
While  not  a  figh  or  mournful  groan  difturb'd 
The  blifsful  vigils  of  ecftatic  love. 

Such  were  Leander's  nightly  toils,  and  fuch 
Theirglorious  recompenfe. — But  righteous Heav'n 
Oft  moft  feverely  punifhesthe  crimes 
It  feems  to  profper :  lawlefs  were  their  joys, 
From  felfifh  paffion  fprung ;  the  fage  advice 
Of  parents  was  not  afk'd  :  The  marriage  rites, 
Of  more  than  human  origin,  the  bond, 
The  facred  bond,  connecting  man  and  wife 
Jn  holy  union,  and  the  fiuitful  fource 
Of  all  fociety,  the  fole  defence 
'Gainft  an  uncertain  progeny,  untrain'd 
And  fatherlefs,  the  burden  of  a  ftate ; 
The  marriage  rites,  that  point  the  neareft  road 
To  real  rapture  and  unblended  blifs, 
To  perfect  friendfhip  and  parental  love, 
The  nobleft  pafiions  of  the  human  heart, 
Re'in'd  from  all  the  dregs  of  grofs  defire, 

Were  difregarded Now  the  winter  hour, 

Cold  and  uncomfortable,  came,  o'ercaft 

With  low-hung  vapours,  roufing  from  their  caves 

Where  they  had  flept  the  fummer  funs  away 

In  inoffenfive  peace  ;  the  raging  ftorms 

Confus'dly  hurrying  through  the  murky  v</id 

Clouds  roll'd  on  clouds. — The  troubled  ocean  felt 

The  univerfal  violence  defcend 

To  his  profoundeft  depths,  and  furious  pil'd 

High  tow'ring  waves  on  tow'ring  waves  high- 

heap'd, 

A  wat'ry  Caucafus  !  deform'd  with  mud 
And  ooze  unfightly  ;  threat'ning  loud  to  pour 
The  blacken'd  deluge  on  the  frighted  fhore, 
Aiding  the  wild  commotion. — On  the  rock 
The  {hip  is  dalh'd  impetuous  :  from  the  fhore 
The  penfive  failor  fees  the  floating  wreck 
Wide-fcatter'd  round,  and  fiiuns  the  faithlefs  main . 
Not  fo  Leander :  the  accuflom'd  lamp 
JBeam'd  through  the  horrid  gloom ; — he  fearlefs 

plung'd 

Into  the  Hellefpont,  impell'd  by  fate, 
And  love,  as  flrong  as  fate.— From  wave  to  wave 
He  bounding  flies  before  the  howling  winds, 
Now  here,  now  there,  as  this  or  that  prevails ; 
Undaunted  ftill,  he  put  forth  ev'ry  nerve, 
Exsrud  ev'ry  linew,  fixing  ftill 


His  fteady  eyes  upon  the  trembling  ray, 

Oft  intercepted  by  the  heapy  furge. 

Loud  and  more  loud  the  bellowing  tempeft  rag'ri, 

Whilfl,  correfponding  with  each  difmal  blaft, 

The  bulky  billows  heav'd  in  dreadful  dance. 

Weary  "d  and  faint  with  bootlefs  toil,  his  limbs 

Refus'd  their  office,  and  his  feeble  arms 

Cleave  to  his  panting  fides. — Then  fuppliant  thus 

tlis  pray'r  to  Neptune,  and  to  ev'ry  nymph 

Inhabiting  die  deep,  and  ev'ry  wind. 

But  chiefly  blufl'ring  Boreas,  he  addrefs'd: 

"  Once  more,  ye  pow'rful  deities!  once  more 

"  Indulge  a  lover's  wifhes ;  yet  again 

"  Let  me  embrace  my  Hero,  let  me  give 

"  One  parting  laft  embrace ;  and  fince  this  life 

"  Is  due  to  deftiny,  in  my  return 

"  Let  Ocean  fink  me  to  his  lowed  bed/' 

Thus  he,  alas  \  in  vain ;  unhappy  youth  ! 

Nor  god,  nor  nymph,  nor  bluft'ring  Boreas  heard 

The  modeft  pray'r. — Unable  to  elude 

Their  fweepy  force,  each  raging  bihow  drove 

Refiftlefs  o'er  his  head,  emerging  fcarce 

After  long  intervals  — while  the  rough  winds 

Extinguished  the  lamp,  and  with  it  all 

His  hopes  of  fafety. — "  Heav'n  !  (he  faid),  1  yield, 

"  Nor  ftruggle  longer  with  my  fate — Adieu, 

"  My  lovely  Hero ! — but    ye  ftormy  winds, 

"  O  bear  me,  bear  me  from  the  Seftian  fhore ! 

"  Suffice  one  lover's  death" The  greedy  wave 

Clos'd  on  the  reft ! — Already  morning  dawn'd, 
Joylefs  and  fad,  when  lonely  in  the  tow'r, 
Feigning  Leander's  tread  in  ev'ry  blaft, 
Hero  fat  penfive,  whilft  foreboding  fighs 
Did  fhake  her  tender  frame ;  impatient  grown^ 
She  from  the  window  view'd  the  frightful  deep, 
High-fwell'd  and  boift'rous. — Who  can  defcribV 
Her  foul's  diftrefs  ?  But  what  muft  fhe  have  felt  f 
What  fuffer'd  !  when  fhe  faw  his  mangled  corfe 
Dafh'd  on  the  rock  below ! — She  from  her  breaft 
The  various  garment  tore,  and  headlong  leapt 
The  height  prodigious! — Side  by  fide  they  lay; 
A  loving  pair,  united  ev'ii  in  death. 

THE  HAPPINESS  OF  A  COUNTRY  LIFE. 

HOW  happy,  O  how  happy,  if  he  knew 
The  ills  of  higher  life,  the  hufbandman  ; 
Whofe  yellow  harvefts,  by  his  labour  rais'd, 
Supply  his  frugal  board, — whofe  cryflal  ftreams 
At  once  enrich  his  lands,  and  heaven's  beft  boon, 
Health's  rofy  balfam,  to  their  mafter  give; 
Beyond  the  frown  of  greatnefs — aught  beyond 
That  wealth  can  furnifti,  or  that  power  can  give, 
But  fefters  in  the  bofom,  and  but  feeds 
The  gluttony  of  appetite,  or  ftruts 
The  dropfied  belly  of  impure  defire. 

ON  VISITING  CARNWATH  SCHOOL, 
1769. 

DULLNESS  avaunt ! — Cimmerian  fpecTres  hence! 
The  furgy  furface  of  the  miry  lake  ^ 

Subfides,  horrendous,  to  receive  your  fall, 
And  mirky  hell,  unfathomably  deep, 
Yawns  for  her  fable  fon»,  with  parent  care  I 
Already,  hunger-pin'd,  with  horrid  yell 
Re-echo'd  by  the  adamantine  roof 
Of  ancient  Erebus,  the  infernal  hound 


MISCELLANIES. 


'.xpands  his  jaws  to  welcome  your  return — 
And  ah  !  return  ye  muft — if  enter  here— 
L'onfcious  of  former  worth,  this  aged  houfe 
Contemptuous  totters  on  its  mould'ring  bale, 
Threat'ning  deftrudlion  to  tlie  ideot  crew 
That  with  pedantic  orgies  {hall  profane 
Its  hallow'd bourne — where  infant  genius  bloom'd. 

Here  grave  PHILANDER*,  elegantly  good, 
And  even  in  boyifli  years,  maturely  wife, 
Felt  kindling  in  his  bread  th'  ethereal  flame 
Prompting  to  generous  deeds  • 

And  with  the  balm  of  mediation  heal'd 
The  petty  difcord  of  his  quarrelling  mates, 
Or  refcu'd  with  the  manly  hand  of  power 
Defencelcfs  childhood  from  the  fcourge  of  age. 

Here  TuvRsisf   ravifh'd  with  the  fweets  of 

found, 

To  indigefted  numbers  tun'd  the  lyre ; 
fJaily  melodious  while  with  patient  charms 
His  light  Belinda  flutter'd  in  the  lay. 

Here  gay  FLOREI.LO  f,  of  more  open  front, 
And  fweeter  manners,  cheer'd  his  crowding  mates, 
With  tale  facetious,  or  with  equal  care, 
Set  limits  to  the  race,  while  rival  maids 
Admir'd  the  beauty  of  the  gallant  boy. 

Here  O  !  illuftrious  and  lamented  youth  ! 
ASPASIO  §  !  all  th«fe  lovely  virtues  d'awn'd, 
Which  gain'd  thee  friendfhips  in  a  foreign  clime, 
And  drew  companion's  tears  from  ftranger  eyes, 
To  fee  thee,  all  amid  thy  blooming  hopes, 
Struck  irnmaturel.y  from  the  ranks  of  men  ! 

"   Here  DAMON  ||  ftemm'd  the  eftuating  tide 
Of  boyifli  follies,  and  induflriousTcann'd 
The  feats  of  clafiic  chieftains;  early  warm'd 
With  Roman  liberty,  and  Grecian  arts : 
Or,  varioufly  charadter'd  his  brow 
Stalk'd,  indolently  thoughtful,  dreaming  much 
Of  Hasmus's  Pindus,  and  the  holy  hill 
Of  Phocis,  water'd  with  Caftalian  fprings. 

And  here  ALEXIS^  trifled  many  an  hour, 
Recklefs  of  fcicnce  and  the  laurell'd  maids, 
Till  late  reclaim'd  by  DAMON'S  friendly  care, 
He  turn'd  the  volumes  fraught  with  ancient  lore ; 
And  not  unfavour'd  by  the  god  of  fong, 
To  artlefs  numbers  tun'd  the  doric  reed. 

*  The  Rev.  James  Somervitle,  HOIV  fiaior  minifler  of 
Stirling. 

f  Mr.  Join  Ingl'is,  majler  of  the  grammar-fcbool  of 
Cannongate,  Edinburgh,  and  author  of  "  The  Patriot" 
a  poem,  printed  in  1777.  He  died  in  1786. 

\  Mr.  Walter  Someriiille,  boolcftllir  in  Lanark. 
J/.»  died  in  1783. 

§  Mr.  John  Melrofe.  He  teas  bred  a  firrgeon  at 
South-Shields,  attended  the  medical  claJTus  of  Edinburgh, 
and  afterwards  fettled  in  Jamaica,  tvbere  be  died  in 
I"66.  He  luas  eminently  jlilled  in  polite  literature, 
medicine,  botany,  and  natural  bljlory.  Some  time  before 
his  death  be  was  employed  in  colltfling  materials  fnr  a 
natural  biflory  of  Jamaica.  He  contributed  not  a  little 
to  lead  the  author,  and  Dr.  Auderfon  (his  coufm-gcrman) 
to  the  love  of  reading^  and  the  Jludy  of  biliary  and 
per  try. 

|j    Dr.  Ar.dtrfon. 

«j  The  Author. 

VOL.  XI. 


INVOCATION  TO  THE  ELEGIAC  MUSE. 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

HAIL!  foft-ey'd,  tender,  melancholy  maid  ! 

The  poor  man's  comfort,  and  the  lover's  friend! 
Give  me  thy  facred  folitudes  to  tread, 

And  on  thy  wildly  wand'ring  fteps  attend. 

Say,  if  thou  choofeft  in  the  Cean  grove 

With  mufing  ftep  to  weave  thy  winding  way? 

Or  rather,  through  the  labyrinths  of  love, 
Penfive  with  thy  Callimachus  deft  fhray  ? 

Hark !    hark !    from   Pontus  came    that   doleful 
found  ? 

Was't  thou,  or  Ovid  that  infpir'd  the  firing  ? 
The  folemn  mufic  faddens  all  around — 

Not  thus  the  wanton  mifcreant  us'd  to  fing^! 

Say,  fhall  I  feek  thee  in  the  breezy  glade, 
Where  thy  Tibullus  figh'd  his  fimple  fong  ? 

It  fuits  thee  well  to  iooth  fo  fweet  a  fhade, 
And  guard  the  relics  of  the  fair  and  young ! 

Or,  fit'ft  thou  mufing  in  the  defert  dome, 

Where  learn'd  Propertius  fill'd  the  labour'd  lay? 

Or,  with  Catullus,  o'er  a  brother's  tomb, 

Sigh'ft  thou  fad  dirges  to  the  crumbling  clay  ? 

Lo  !  the  laft  glimm'rings  of  departing  day, 

Streak  thefmooth  furfaceof  the  fhadowy  ftream; 

The  weary  hedger  homeward  plods  his  way, 
And  down  the  rough  flopc  nods  the  tinkling 
team. 

Now  doft  thou  loiter  o'er  the  hallow'd  bourne; 

Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mould'ring 

heap, 
And  hear  thy  Gray,  in  moral  mufings  mourn 

The  peaceful  peafants  in  their  cells  that  fleep  ? 

Or  fay,  fequefter'd  from  the  dinfome  roar, 
Which  taftelefs  crowds  uninterrupted  fend, 

Meet'ft  thou  thy  Shenftone  in  the  rural  bow'r, 
Which   oaks  embofom,    and  which  hills  de 
fend  ? 

Or,  deeply  flielter'd  in  the  folemn  fhade, 
By  noble  Temple's  gen'rous  friendfliip  wove, 

Hear'ft  thou  thy  Hammond  tune  his  tender  reed, 
As  through  the  gloom  his  love-lorn  footfteps 
rove  ? 

Or,  all  attentive  to  the  lonefome  note 

That  burfts  obfcure  from  Medwan's  mazy  vale, 

Hear'll  thou   thy  Graeme,  in   many  a  love-lick 

thought, 
Pour  penfive  forth  his  fweetly-vary'd  tale  ? 

Ah  '.  does  thy  foot  his  favour'd  haunt  forego, 
Led  where  loud  wailings  pierce  the  midnight- 
ijloom— 

Hear'ft  thou  the  knell  of  death,  the  fliriek  of  woe, 
Tell  to  the  hollow  gale  his  tiftielefs  doom  ! 

That  tear  becomes  thee— gentle  was  thy  Grjeme ! 

Soft  were  his  woes,    and  fweet  his  warbled 

lays! 
Yet  lafls  his  love,  a^d  lafts  his  noble  flame, 

Bleft  in  the  {train  that  lives  to  lateft  days. 


4** 


THE  WORKS  OF  GRAEME; 


Me  unambitious,  as  I  breathe  my  moan, 

Not  laurell'd  name,  nor  honour'd  meed  infpires: 

Me  it  delights  to  murmur  all  alone, 

True  to  my  love,  and  faithful  to  its  fires. 

Deep  in  the  bofom  of  this  mofs-lin'd  grot, 

Whofe  verdant  fide  unhallow'd  waters  lave, 
Where  never  poe.t  pour'd  the  plaintive  note, 

Nor  ling'ring  lover  lull'd  the  lonefome  wave— 
If  e'er,  outftretch'd  beneath  the  midnight  fky, 

Mufing,  erewhile,  I  mark'd  thy  vifi«ns  dear; 
If  e'er,  when  wayward  beauty  drew  my  eye, 

According  murmurs  met  thy  foothed  ear  I 

Deign,  meek-ey'd  maid '.    with  muling  footftep 

flow. 

Pale  face  demure,  and  mien  folemnly  fweet ! 
Deign,  now  invek'd,  to  harmonize  my  woe, 
Sooth  my  fad  fighs,  and  guide  my  wandering 
feet! 

1773- 


THE  VISION, 

TO  MR.  JOHK  GRjEME, 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,  M.  D. 

THOU  friend  !   for  whom  the  languid  mufe   a- 

wakes 

Her  buried  fire,  and  ftrikes  the  jarring  firing, 
Propitious  liften  to  the  feeble  lay, 
The  backward  virgin  trilis  at  your  command; 
She,  penfive  ftretch'd  on  floth's  inglorious  couch, 
In  fecret  fighs  bewaiPd  Alexis'  fate, 
And  Nancy's  abfence  ineffe&ual  mourn'd  ; 
Till  you,  invidious  of  her  fad  repofe, 
To  wonted  toils  impell'd  the  liftlefs  maid, 
Reluctant  roufing  at  the  friendly  call. 

When  fliady  night  her  dewy  pinions  fpread, 
Involving  deep  the  fummer-painted  vale. 
And  verdant  mountain  in  her  formlefs  gloom ; 
Damon,  a  youth  of  melancholy  mien, 
Who  erft,  ambitious  of  the  myrtle  wreathe, 
Tun'd  his  weak  reed  where   Medwan's  waters 

Jave, 

3$ow'rs  built  by  fays,  and  fields  renown'd  in  fong  ; 
Hard  by,  where  Alne  devolves  her  mazy  courfe 
Irriguous,  through  romantic  vales,  of  old 
By  fifter  nations  till'd  with  founding  war, — 
Lonely  and  fad,  foribok  his  fleeplefs  couch, 
Revolving  ferious  in  his  anxious  mind 
The  lucklefs  love  that  wrung  his  tortur'd  breaft  ; 
And  ever,  as  in  luring  fmiles  array'd, 
His  gentle  Nancy's  abfent  form  arofe. 
And  drew  th'  impaffion'd  glance  from  moiften'd 

eye;. 

•Gold-potent  rivals,  pageantry  and  birth, 
Succeilive  rofe,  and  dufk'd  the  low'ring  fcene  ! 

Nor  was  the  fwelling  figh  alone  confin'd 
To  proper  woes — for  Strephon's  tender  grief 
Piteous  he  pin'd  ;  while,  from  his  proffer'd  hand, 
Grieving  he  faw  each  lovely  grace  that  blooms 
On  Jefley's  damaflc  cheek,  unequal  flirink, 
As  wealth,  exulting,  fpreads  her  glittering  ftores, 
lu  gay  profufion  on  the  dazzled  eye. 


Thus,  wrapt  in  thought,  lie  reach'd  a  mefs-lin'i 

cave. 

O'er  which  two  oaks  their  verdant  branches  fpread, 
Commixing  thick  their  raggy-fringed  leave*, 
While   through    and  through   the   fliooting   ivy 

ftray'd. 
There,  mufing  ftretch'd,  the  river's  murmuring 

chime, 

That  broad  below  o'erfwept  a  pebbly  channel, 
Clos'd  his  moift  lids,  and  funk  his  foul  to  reft. 
While  Morpheus  thus,  to  fancy's  wakeful  eye 
CalPd  up  his  airy  unfubftantial  forms 
And  trac'd  the  fcene  the  faithful  virgin  fings, 

Plac'd  on  the  arid  margin  of  a  ftream, 
That  down  a  rugged  bed  tumultuous  hurl'd 
Its  difmal  wave,  he  mark'd  with  deep  regard 
The  vernal  flow'rs  that  flufli'd  the  further  Ihore. 
High  on  a  mound,  fuperior  to  the  reft, 
Two  blufliing  rofes  odorific  wav'tl 
Their  crimfon  folds,  difpread  to  Titan's  beam  : 
On  thefe  infatiate  hung  his  raptur'd  eye, 
And  wifhful  mark'd  the  vermile  glow,  diffus'i 
On  either  flow'r,  by  fpring's  refreftiful  hand. 
In  wild  amaze,  and  fancy'd  vifion  loft  ! 
A  more  than  human  form,  ferenely  fair. 
Thus  gentle  fpoke — while  penetration  (hone 
From  either  eye,  and  Reafon  loud  proclaim'd  : 

"  Why,  frantic   youth  '.  purfue  with   fatelefs 

"  gaze 

"  The  florid  phantoms,  that  deceitful  fkim 
"  In  fplendid  drefs  before  the  curtain'd  eye  ? 
"  'Tis  vain  illufion  all ! — the  vermeil  blufli, 
"  That  veils  yon  painted  flow'rs,  is  but  the  work 
"  Of  fancy's  mimic  hand — Fair  Nancy's  charms, 
"  If  rightly  vie  w'd,  and  Jeffey's,  are  no  more  !" 

She  ceas'd — and  ftraight  the  flumb'ring  youth 

awoke , 

And,  fliiv'ring,  quick  tiprear'd  his  dewy  limbs. 
With  nightly  vapours  chill'd,  and  lefs  perplex'd, 
With  heedful  eye  explor'd  the  homeward  path. 

I774- 
"INVOCATION  TO  HEALTH, 

BY  MR.  JOHN  GR-EME*. 

HAIL  !  gentle  goddefs  of  the  fprightly  look, 
On  whofe  plump  cheek  the  rofes  ever  bloom. 

How  long  (hall  youth— (hall  innocence  invoke--- 
And  wilt  thou  point  me  to  the  gloomy  tomb  ! 

O  think  how  ill  the  youthful  heart  can  bear 
The  diftnal   thought  of  numb'ring   with  the 
dead  ! 

How  hard  to  part  with  all  I  hold  moft  dear, 
Ere  half  the  fummer  of  my  life  is  fled  ! 

What  is  my  crime  that  thus  thou  hid'ft  thy  face  ? 

Did  e'er  thefe  feet  the  paths  of  vice  purfue  i 
Did  e'er  I  wallow  in  the  lewd  embrace, 

Or  bid  the  paths  of  fober  life  adieu  ? 

Did  e'er  this  youthful  heart  ungrateful  prove  ? 
Have  I  not  wor/hipp'd  at  rhy  holy  Qirine? 

*  Mr.  Grtemedied  of^  a  confttmption,  in  178,3, 
foon  after  ivrjting  tbit  odef 


T  JSCELLANIES. 


Been  true  to  friendfliip'and  been  true  to  love, 
And  (hall  I  urge  my^innocence  in  vain  ? 

That  thefe  pale  cheeks  their  wonted  bloom  might 

wear, 

Have  I  not  ufed  ev'ry  various  mean  ? 
Mounted  the  fteed — brulh'd  through  the  balmy 

air, 
And  tript  it  frequent  o'er  yon  daifi'd  green  ? 

What  time  in  weftern  wind  I  heard  thee  rove, 
Did  e'er  I  loiter  at  the  pleafing  found  ? 

Have  I  not  left  the  maiden  of  my  love, 

And  woo'd  thee  on  each  filent  hill  around  ? 

******* 
Hail !  gentle  goddefs  of  the  fprightly  look, 

On  whofe  plump  cheek  the  rofes  ever  bloom, 
How  long  fliall  youth — (hall  innocence  invoke  ? — 

O  come,  and  fuatch  me  from  the  gloomy  tomb ! 

NANCY. 

A  PASTORAL  BALLAD. 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,    M.  D. 

You  a(k  why  I  mufingly  ftray 

Where  rivers  run  flowly  along  ! 
Why  I  teach  ev'ry  bird  of  the  fpray 

To  fing  my  difconfolate  fong  ? 
I  loiter'd,  a  fimple  young  fwain, 

Amid  nymphs  of  an  higher  degree  ; 
And  it  is  not  for  me  to  explain 

How  fair  and  how  fickle  they  be. 

Infenfibly  Nancy  obtain'd 

My  heart,  inexperienc'd  in  love  ; 
When  I  left  her,  (he  fondly  complain'i, 

Or  follow'd  my  fteps  to  the  grove. 
When  walking,  flie  lean'd  on  my  arm, 

And  would  play  with  my  fingers  the  while  ; 
And,  as  oft  as  I  prais'd  ev'ry  charm. 

She  would  anfwer  each  word  with  a  fmile. 

If  I  fpoke  of  a  field-flow'r  I  found, 

How  her  face  it  but  faintly  difplay'd, 
She  would  dart  a  foft  glance  on  the  ground, 

And  blufli  a  more  ravifliing  red. 
Hand  in  hand,  as  the  path  we  purfu'd 

She  would  flop,  and  with  tranfport  behold 
How  my  bowers  bended  bright  d'er  the  flood, 

And  my  feats  were  fpread  over  with  gold. 

My  reed  when  I  labour'd  to  found, 

She  would  fay  was  the  fweeteft  to  hear, 
And  if  •ever  a  fault  could  be  found, 

It  was,  "  Ah,  were  the  fong  but  fincere ! 
*'  For  I've  heard  (flie  would  add  with  a  fi#h) 

"  How  the  (hepherds  do  pipe  on  the  plain, 
•*'  With  the  notes  of  the  nightingale  vie, 

"  While  their  bofoms  unmoved  remain  1". 

How  bright  was  the  fun's  crolden  beam, 
When  my  Nancy  fo  fmilingly  (hone  ! 

Artf  how  fweet  was  the  found  of  the  ftream, 
Wiiea  we  tuc'd  its  wild  windings  alone  1. 


Each  bird  that  faluted  our  ear 

From  the  grove  where  we  fought  to  retire, 
Warbl'd  ftill  more  melodious  and  clear, 

As  we  ftrove  its  foft  drains  to  admire  I 

And  the  primrofe,  befprinkl'd  with  dew, 

And  the  violet  of  various  dye, 
Still  aflum'd  a  more  delicate  hue,  ' 

As  our  fteps  ftele  lovingly  by  ! 
And  each  tree  that  extended  its  (hade 

*Mid  the  thicket  of  willows  I  wove, 
Spread  its  bloflbms  more  bright  o'er  our  head, 

As  we  fat  and  repeated  our  love. 

But  now  with  fond  footftep  no  more 

Through  the  groves  and  the  valleys  we  ftray, 
Recline  in  the  bloffbming  bower, 

And  talk  about  love  the  long  day  ! 
Forfaking  the  fweets  of  the  vale, 

The  flower,  and  the  ftream,  and  the  tree, 
She  roves  on  fome  far  diftant  dale 

With  a  fwain  more  diftinguifli'd  than  me  1 

Yet,  forc'd  each  fond  hope  to  forego, 

Of  ev'ry  fweet  folace  forlorn ; 
Should  one  murmur  upbraidingly  flow 

While  I  ftrive  with  my  fate  and  her  fcornl 
The  proud  (hepherds  who  fee  my  defpair, 

Rebuke  me,  nor  dare  I  complain 
That  a  nymph  fo  exceedingly  fair 

Should  prefer  fo  engaging  a  fwain. 

For  his  manners,  they  fay,  are  more  fmooth. 

And  the  tint  of  his  features  more  fine, 
And  the  language  that  -flows  from  his  mouthr 

Has  a  foftnefs  fuperior  to  mine : 
Then  my  raiment,  be  lure,  it  muft  yield 

To  the  luftre  his  garments  difplay, 
And  my  love-labour'd  notes  be  excell'd 

By  the  eafe  of  his  elegant  lay  1 

Thus  glide  their  gay  triumphs  along  ; 

Nor  ought  I  to  utter  a  figh, 
Since  Nancy  defpifes  my  fong, 

And  the  fliepherds  reprove  my  reply. 
Yet  my  foot,  ftill  averfe  to  forget 

The  foft  icenes  that  engag'd  me  before. 
Frequents  the  fweet  (hade  where  we  met, 

And  delights  in  the  defolate  bower. 

And  oft-times  a  reflecTton  will  rife —  • 

(But  I  (ludy  the  thought  to  refign). 
How  a  nymph  fo  fincere  could  defpife 

A  bofom  fo  gentle  as -mine  '. 
Then  fuiting  my  reed  to  my  lay, 

I  loiter  the  ftreatnlet  along, 
And  teach  the  blithe  birds  of  the  fpray 

To  fing  my  difconfolate  foag. 

A  FAMILIAR  EPISTLE, 

TO  JOHN  GRIEVE,  M.  D. 
BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,    M.  D. 

WHILE  you,  my  dearefl-  Grieve,  admire 
The  auguft  fane,  and  gilded  fpire. 
The  courtly  mien,  and  meafur'd  ftride. 
Which  mark  the  fons  of  civic  pride, 
®  S  U 


THE   WORKS    OF  GRAEME. 


I  wander  In  the  rural  fcene, 

O'er  fields,  with  rifing  plenty  green, 

O'er  verdant  lawns,  and  fragrant  meads, 

By  doping  banks  and  fylvan  fliades, — 

"Where  hiU-born  Alne,  with  confcious  pride, 

."Devolves  her  filver-winding  tide, 

By  Alnwick's  green-inwoven  bovvers, 

Gay-gilt  alcoves,  and  trophied  towers— 

Pleas'd  if  the  cottage  of  a  friend 

Receive  me,  at  my  ramble's  end  ;— 

Which  neither  mean,  nortlegant, 

Befpeaks  nor  luxury,  nor  want,— 

To  liften  to  the  homely  joke, 

And  raillery,  of  country  folk  ; 

To  tales  repeated  o'er  knd  o'er, 

Of  this  turn'd  rogue,  and  that  turn'd  whore ; 

Of  matches,  politic  and  civil, 

Or  made  by  nature,  or  the  devil ; 

Of  jocky-feats  at  fairs  and  races, 

And  hair-breadth  'fcapes  in  critic  cafes, 

A  nd  births,  and  deaths,  and  funday  fuits, 

And  dinners,  dreams,  and  drinking-bouts, 

And  genealogies,  as  long 

As  epic  Blackmore's  endlefs  fong. 

The  world  its  diftant  din  may  keep, 
Tred'rick  may  frown,  the  Pole  may  weep, 
Bourbon  the  work  of  war  renew, 
Cath'rine  the  flying  Turk  purfue, 
And  George,  a  gracious  gueft  I  repair 
To  Portfmouth,  when  he  will  — or  where— 
To  Alne's  green  marge  I  ftill  retire, 
"While  ev'ning  trims  her  fading  fire, 
And  ftill— while  morning's  meekeft  beam, 
Juft  filvers  o'er  the  fhadowy  ftream, 
Reflecting  every  grace  of  day — 
To  Alne's  green  marge  I  hafte  away, 
And,  all  along  the  winding  (hore, 
I  mufe — and  build  my  birchen  bow'r— 
Pleas'd  (if  perchance  my  mulings  meet 
One  fparkof  that  poetic  heat, 
"Which  erft  infpir'd  my  youthful  dreams 
On  other  banks,  and  other  ftreams). 
To  tune  my  feeble  Voice  to  raife 
Another  ft  rain  to  Nancy's  praife, 
And  bid  another  figh  fincere 
Purfue  my  Graeme's  unhonour'd  bier '. 

"  Well,  Bob ! — but  fure  'tis  fometimes  fit, 
*'  You  mind  the  lab'ring  world  of  wit; 
"  Inquire  if  fubtile  fceptics  ftill 
"  Stain  their  own  morals,  and  their  quill; 


Obferve  the  ftory-telliiig  tribe 

Trim  old-new  facts  in  ftyle  full  glib  ; 

And  eke  obferve  the  rant-retailers 

Of  rambles,  pranks,  and  female  failures  ; 

And  (well  diftinguifli'd  from  the  reft 

By  the  rapt  eye  and  tatter'd  veft) 

Obferve  th'  enthufiaftic  choir, 

Whofe  rival  fingers  ftrike  the  lyre." 

Mind  wit  !—  dear  Grieve  k  you  don't  reflect, 

My  lot  how  low,  my  voice  How  weak  ! 

Incurious,  indolent,  and  dull, 

I  little  care  to  go  to  fchool, 

Or  wafte  the  morning  of  my  days 

In  pilf'ririg  fprigs  from  other's  bays. 
Let  Mafon's  laurels  ftill  entwine 

His  claflic  brow,  and  Goldfmith  Ihine, 

In  fpite  of  fortune's  blinded  fway, 

A  Pope  in  rhyme,  in  manners  Gay  '. 

What  is't  to  me  ?  —  I  may  admire, 

But  never  match  their  heav'nly  fire  ; 

Impell'd  by  that  perfuafive  power 

That  plans  the  whim  from  hour  to  hour, 

To  woo  a  wayward  mufe  in  vain, 

And  force  from  unimproved  brain 

Some  forry  couplets,  void  of  merit, 

Or  as  to  diction,  or  to  fpirit  ; 

For  fuch  a  poet,  pafling  well, 

As  juft  can  write,  but  ne'er  excel. 
This  draws  from  vanity  its  fource, 

And  with  its  author,  Grieve  !  is  yours. 


A  WISH. 

BY  ROBERT  ANDERSON,   M.  D. 

I  ASK  not  Heav'n  !  the  cumbrous  (kill  to  know 
The  tribes  and  hift'ries  of  the  human  race  ; 

In  foreign  climes  what  herbs  fanefcent  grow, 
What  unknown  fyftems  crowd  untravel'd  fpace. 

I  a(k  not  to  triumph  in  glory's  car, 

With  honour's  wreath  to  twine  my  lordly  brow  ; 
To  fwell  my  coffers  with  refplendent  ore, 

Nor  tame  unnumber'd  valleys  with  my  plough. 

But  gracious  grant  me  in  fome  lonely  cot 
To  fpend  the  remnant  of  a  joylefs  life  ; 

From  learning,  pride,  and  pageantry  remote, 
Nancy  my  friend,  ray  miftrefs,  and,  my  wife, 


T  H  £ 

POETICAL   WORKS 

O  F 

RICHARD    GLOVER,    ESQ 

Containing 

LEONIDAS,  I)  LONDON, 

JOEM   ON    NEWTON,  ||  HOSIER'S   GHOST,' 

We.  We.  We. 
To  which  is  prefixed, 

?HE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR- 


GLOVER  '.  thy  mind  in  various  virtue  wife, 
Each  fcience  claims,  and  makes  each  art  thy  prize ; 
With  Newton,  foars  familiar  to  the  iky, 
Looks  nature  through,  fo  keen  thy  mental  eye ; 
Or  down  defcending  on  the  globe  below, 
Through  humble  realms  of  knowledge  loves  to  flow ; 
Protnifcuous  beauties  dignify  thy  breaft, 
By  nature  happy,  as  by  ftudy  Bleft. 
Thou  wit's  Columbus !  from  the  epic  throne, 
New  worlds  defcry'd,  and  made  them  all  our  owiu 
Thou  firft  through  real  nature  dar'd  explore, 
And  waft  her  facred  treafures  to  our  fliore. 
Nor  Ariofto's  fables  fill  thy  page, 
Nor  Taflb's  points,  but  Virgil's  fober  rage, 
How  foft,  how  ftrong  thy  varied  numbers  move, 
Or  fwell'd  to  glory,  or  diffolv'd  to  love. 
Correcl  with  eafe,  where  all  the  graces  meet, 
Nervoufly  plain,  majeftically  fweet : 
The  Mufes  will  thy  facrifice  repay, 
Attendant  warbling  in  each  heavenly  lay. 

THOMPSON'S  EPISTI.Z  TO  GLOVER. 


EDINBUR  GH: 

PRINTED  BY  MUtfDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE. 

1795. 


THE  LIFE  OF  GLOWER. 


JKicHARD  GLOVER  was  born  ia  St.  Martin's  Lane,  Cannon  Street,  London,  in  1712.  He  was  the 
fon  of  Richard  «.•  lover,  Lfq.  an  eminent  Hamburgh  merchant  in  the  city. 

He  received  the  whole  of  his  education  under  the  Rev.  Daniel  Sanxay,  at  Cheam  fchool,  a 
place  which  he  afterwards  delighted  to  viiit,  and  fometimes  attended  the  anniverfary,  held  of  late 
years  in  London,  w.^ere  h«  ftemed  happy  in  relating  his  juvenile  adventures. 

At  this  feminary  he  diftinguiflied  himfelf  by  the  quicknefs  of  his  progrefs,  and  early  began  to 
exhibit  fpecimens  of  liis  poetical  powers. 

At  the  age  of  fixt^en,  he  wrote  a  poem  to  the  memory  of  Sir  Ifaac  Newton,  prefixed  to  the 
"  View  of  Sir  Ifaac  Newton's  Philofophy,"  publifhed  in  410,  1728,  by  his  intimate  friend  Dr. 
Pemberton.  "  J  have  prefented  my  readers,  "  fays  Dr.  Pemberton  in  the  preface  to  this  work, 
*'  with  a  copy  of  veries  on  Sir  Ifaac  Newton,  which  I  have  juft  received  from  a  young  gentleman, 
whom  (  am  proud  to  reckon  among  the  number  of  my  deareft  friends.  If  I  had  any  apprehenfion 
that  this  piece  of  poetry  ftood  in  need  of  an  apology,  I  mould  be  deiirous  the  reader  might  know- 
that  the  author  is  but  tixteen  years  old,  and  was  obliged  to  fimfh  the  compofition  in  a  very  fliort 
time,  but  I  fliall  only  take  the  liberty  to  obferve,  that  the  boldnefs  of  the  digreflions  will  be  beft 
judged  of  by  thofe  who  are  acquainted  with  Pindar.'' 

Confidering  this,  poem  as  the  compofition  of  a  fchool-boy,  it  will  excite  no  fmall  degree  of  fur- 
prife,  as  it  poffefTes  more  claim  to  applaufe,  and  requires  fewer  allowances  for  faults,  than  pro 
ductions  of  iiuh  an  age  are  always  allowed.  To  Glover  may  be  applied  what  the  prefent  Earl  of 
Orford  faid  of  his  friend  Gray,  "  that  he  never  was  a  boy." 

Though  pofieffed  of  talents  which  were  calculated  to  excel  in  literature,  he  was  content  to  de 
vote  his  attention  to  commerce,  and  at  a  proper  period  commenced  a  Hamburgh  merchant ;  as  ap 
pears  from  the  following  lines,  with  which  he  begins  his  poem  called  London. 

Ye  northern  blafts,  and  Eurus,  wont  to  fweep 
With  rudeft  pinions  o'er  the  furrowed  waves ; 
A  while  lufpend  your  violence,  and  waft 
From  fandy  Wefer,  and  the  broad-mouth'd  Elbe, 
My  freighted  veflels  to  the  deftin'd  more 
Safe  o'er  th'  unruffled  main 

As  a  merchant  he  foon  made  a  confpicuous  figure  ;  but  his  commercial  affairs  did  not  occupy  his 
whole  attention.  He  ftill  found  leifure  to  cultivate  the  ftudy  of  poetry  ;  and  continued  to  aflbciate 
with  thofe  who  were  eminent  in  literature  and  fcience ;  efpecially  among  the  party  in  oppofition  to 
the  adminiltration  of  V/alpole. 

•  One  of  his  earlieft  friends  was  Green,  the  ingenious  but  obfcure  author  of  that  truly  original 
poem,  intituled  "  The  Spleen,"  which,  in  1737,  foon  after  his  death,  was  publifhed  by  Glover. 
This  excellent  performance  contains  the  following  prefage  of  his  literary  eminence,  with  an  evident 
allufion  to  his  Leonidas,  which  he  had  begun  when  very  young. 

But  there's  a  youth  that  you  can  name, 
Who  needs  no  leading  ftrings  to  fame, 
Whofe  quick  maturity  of  brain 
The  birth  of  Pallas  may  explain  : 
Dreaming  of  whofe  depending  fate, 
I  hefard  Melpomene  debate, 
This,  this  is  he  that  was  foretold, 
Should  emulate  our  Greeks  of  old : 
Infpir'd  by  me  with  facred  art, 
He  fings  and  rules  the  varied  heart ; 
If  Jove's  dread  anger  he  rehearfe, 
„  ,  ;We  hear  the  thunder  in  his  verfe  ; 

C  g  iiij 


468?  THE    LIFE    OF   GLOVER. 

If  he  defcribe  love  turn'd  to  rage, 

The  furies  riot  on  his  page  ; 

li'  he  fair  liberty  and  law, 

By  ruffian  power  expiring  draw, 

The  keener  paflions  then  engage 

Aright,  and  fanctify  their  rage  ; 

If  he  attempt  difaftrous  love, 

We  hear  thofe  plaints  that  wound  the  grove; 

With  him  the  kinder  paffions  glow, 

And  tears  diftill'd  from  pity  flow. 

On  the  lift  of  May  1737,  he  married  Mifs  Nunn,  with  whom  he  received  a  fortune  of  12,000!. 
and  in  the  fame  month  he  published  his  Lecnidas,  an  epic  poem  in  nine  books,  4to,  which  com 
pletely  eftablifhed  his  poetical  reputation. 

Leonidas  was  infcribed  to  Lord  Cobham,  and  on  its  firft  appearance,  was  received  by  the  public 
with  great  approbation  ;  though  it  has  fince  been  unaccountably  negleiled. 

But  its  favourable  reception  was  not  entirely  owing  to  its  intrinfic  merits.  At  the  time  of  its 
publication,  a  zeal,  or  rather  rage  for  liberty,  prevailed  in  England  ;  a  conftellation  of  great  men, 
diftinguifhed  by  their  virtues  as  well  as  their  talents,  fet  ttemfelves  in  oppofition  to  the  Court ; 
every  ipecies  of  competition  that  bore  the  facred  name  of  freedom,  recommended  itfelf  to  their 
protection,  and  foon  obtained  pefleffion  of  the  public  favour.  Hence  a  poem  founded  on  the 
nobleft  principles  of  liberty,  and  dil'playing  the  moft  brilliant  examples  of  patrictiirn,  foon  found 
its  way  into  the  world. 

Lyttletonj  then  high  in  the  ranks  of  oppofition,  in  a  popular  publication  called  Common  Senfe, 
under  the  Cgnature  of  Pbilo  Mufceus,  No.  ip.  April  9.  1737,  praiied  it  in  the  warmeft  terms.  Dr. 
Pemberton  publifhed  "  Obfervatioqs  on  Poetry,  efpecially  epic,  occafjoned  by  the  late  poem  upon 
Ltonidas,"  izmo,  1738,  merely  with  a  view  to  point  out  its  beauties;  and  it  was  praifed  by 
Thompfun,  of  Queen's  College,  and  other  poets.  It  paffed  through  three  editions  in  1737,  and  1738  ; 
but  it  afterwards  experienced  the  fate  of  thofe  literary  productions,  which  owe  a  temporary  celebrity 
to  the  influence  of  party-principles,  without  defeiving  it. 

The  imprudent  zeal  cf  his  friends  had  encouraged  fuch  extravagant  ideas  of  it,  that  though  it 
.was  found  to  have  very  great  beauties,  yet  the  ardour  of  the  lovers  of  poetry  foon  funk  into  a  kind 
cf  cold  forgetfulnefs  with  regard  to  it ;  becaufe  it  did  not  poflefs  more  than  the  narrow  limits  of 
the  defign  would  admit  of,  or  indeed  than  it  was  in  the  power  of  human  genius  to  execute.  It 
was  feverely  animadverted  upon,  in  a  feries  of  letters  addreffed  "  to  the  author  of  Leonidas,"  in 
the  "  Weekly  Mifcellany,"  for  May  1738,  under  the  fignature  of  Mifo-Mufaus. 

In  1739,  he  publifhed  his  London,  or  the  Progrcfs  of  Commerce,  4to  ;  and  foon  after  his  ballad 
intituled  Hcfier  s  Gbcft ;  both  thefe  pieces  feem  to  hare  been  written  with  a  view  to  incite  the 
nation  to  refent  the  depredationi  of  the  Spaniards  ;  and  the  latter  had  a  very  confiderable  effect-. 

His  connection  with  Cobham,  Lyttleton,  Pitt,  and  other  leaders  of  the  oppofition,  introduced  him 
to  the  notice  of  Frederick  Prince  of  Wale?,  then  ftruggling  for  popularity,  and  profefling  himfelf  the 
patron  of  wit ;  who  diftinguifhed  him  by  his  countenance  and  patronage  ;  and  once,  it  is  faid,  pre- 
fented  him  with  a  complete  fet  of  the  claffics,  elegantly  bound. 

The  political  diffentions  at  this  period,  raged  with  great  violence,  and  more  efpecially  in  the 
metropolis.  In  1739,  Sir  George  Champion,  who  was  next  in  rotation  for  the  mayoralty,  had  of- 
fended  a  majority  of  his  constituents,  by  vpting  with  the  Court  party  in  the  bufinefs  of  tke  Spanifh 
convention.  This  determined  them  to  fet  him  afide,  and  choofe  the  next  to  him  in  feniority  •  ac 
cordingly  Sir  John  Salter  was  chofen  on  Michaelmas  day  ;  and  on  this  occafion  Glover  took  a  very 
active  part;  as  appears  from  "  A  Narrative  of  what  paffed  in  the  Common  Hall  of  the  City  of 
London,  aflemblecl  for  the  election  of  a  Lord  Mayor,  on  Saturday  the  29th  of  September,  on  Mon 
day  the  ift  and  Tuefday  the  2d  of  October;  together  with  a  defence  of  thefe  proceeding?,  both  as 
reafonable  and  agreeable  to  the  practice  of  former  times,'1  8vo,  1739,  writen  by  Benjamin  Robins, 
the  fuppofed  author  of  "  Lord  Anfon's  Voyage." 

In  1740,  the  fame  refolution  of  the  majority  continuing,  Glover  prefided  at  Vintner's  Hall, 
September  25th,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Livery,  to  confider  cf  two  proper  perfons  to  be  recommendec^ 


THE  LIFE   OF  GLOVER.  4£» 

to  the  Court  of  Aldermen ;  when  it  was  refolved  to  fupport  the  nomination  of  Sir  Robert  Goclfchall, 
and  George  Heathcote,  Efq.  who  being  returned  to  the  Court  of  Aldermen,  the  latter  gentleman 
was  chofen ;  but  he  declining  the  office,  another  meeting  of  the  Livery  was  held  at  Vintner's  Hall, 
October  I3th,  when  Glover  again  was  called  to  the  chair,  and  the  meeting  refolved  to  return 
Humphry  Parfons,  Efq.  and  Sir  Robert  Godfchall,  to  the  Court  of  Aldermen,  who  made  choice  of 
the  former  to  fill  the  office. 

On  the  i pth  of  November,  another  meeting  was  held  at  Vintner's  Hall,  when  Glover  pronoun 
ced  an  eulogium  on  Sir  John  Barnard,  and  advifed  the  Livery  to  choofe  him  one  of  their  reprefen- 
tatives  in  Parliament,  notwithftanding  his  intention  to  refign. 

On  all  thefe  occafions,  Glover  acquitted  himfelf  in  a  very  able  manner.  His  fpeeches,  printed  in 
the"  London  Magazine,"  1740,  and  the  '*  Annals  of  Europe,"  1740,  p.  283,  are  elegant,  fpirited, 
and  adapted. 

His  talents  for  public  fpeaking,  his  knowledge  of  political  affairs,  and  his  information  concern, 
ing  trade  and  commerce,  foon  after  pointed  him  oat  to  the  merchants  of  London,  as  a  proper  perfon 
to  conduct  their  application  to  Parliament,  on  the  fubject  of  the  neglect  of  their  trade.  He  ac 
cepted  the  office,  and  in  fumming  up  the  evidence,  gave  very  ftriking  proofs  of  his  oratorical  powers. 
This  remarkable  fpeech  was  pronounced  at  the  bar  of  the  Houfe  of  Commons,  January  27.  1742, 
and  foon  afterwards  published  under  the  title  of  AJkcrt  account  of  tbe  late  application  to  Parlia 
ment,  made  by  the  merchants  of  London,  upon  the  neglctt  of  their  trade,  ivith  the  fubjlance  there 
upon  asfttmtned  up  by  Mr.  Glover,  Svo,  1742. 

JBy  his  appearance  in  behalf  of  the  merchants  of  London,  he  acquired,  and  with  great  juftice, 
the  character  of  an  able  and  fteady  patriot ;  and,  indeed,  on  every  occafion,  he  fliowed  a  moft  per 
fect  knowledge  of,  joined  to  the  moft  ardent  ztal  for,  the  commercial  interefts  of  the  nation,  and 
inviolable  attachment  to" the  welfare  of  his  countrymen  in  general,  and  that  of  the  city  of  London 
in  particular. 

In  1744,  died  Sarah  Duchefs  of  Marlborough,  and  by  her  will  left  to  Glover  and  Mallet,  500!. 
each,  to  write  the  hiftory  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  Of  Glover,  her  grace  fays,  "  that  (he 
believes  him  to  be  a  very  honeft  man,  who  wiflied,  as  flie  did,  all  the  good  that  could  happen  to 
preferve  the  liberties  and  laws  of  England." 

This  bequeft  never  took  place.  It  is  fuppofed  that  Glover  very  early  renounced  his  fliare ;  anil 
Mallet,  though  he  continued  to  talk  of  performing  the  tafk,  almoft  as  long  as  he  lived,  is  now 
known  never  to  have  made  the  leaft  progrefs  in  if. 

About  this  period,  having  in  confequence  of  unavoidable  loffes  in  trade,  .and  perhaps,  in  fome 
meafure,  of  his  zealous  warmth  for  the  public  interefts,  to  the  neglect  of  his  own  private  emolu 
ments,  fomewhat  reduced  his  fortunes,  he  withdrew  a  good  deal  from  public  notice,  and  preferred, 
with  a  very  laudable  delicacy,  an  obfcurc  retreat  to  popular  obfervation,  until  his  affairs  fhould  put 
on  a  more  profperous  appearance. 

While  he  lived  in  obfcurity,  known  only  to  his  friends,  and  declining  to  take  any  active  part  in 
public  affairs,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  it  is  faid,  fent  him,  on  account  of  the  embarraflment  of  his  cir- 
cumftances,  500!. 

The  Prince  died  in  March  1751,  and  in  May  following,  Glover  was  once  more  drawn  from  his 
retreat  by  the  importunity  of  his  friends,  and  condefcended  to  ftand  candidate  for  the  place  of 
Chamberlain  of  the  City  of  London,  in  oppolition  to  Thomas  Harrifon,  Efq. 

It  unfortunately  happened,  that  he  did  not  declare  himfelf  till  moft  of  the  Livery  had  engaged 
their  votes.  After  a  few  days,  finding  that  his  antagonift  gained  ground  upon  the  poll,  he  gave  up 
the  conteft  on  the  6th  of  May.  Mr.  Deputy  Harrifon  was  declared  duly  elected,  May  7th,  and  on 
this  occafion,  Glover  made  the  following  fpeech  tp  the  Livery,  which  exhibits  the  feelings  of  a 
manly,  refigned,  philofophical  mind,  in  unprofperous  circumftances. 

"  Heretofore,  I  have  frequently  had  occafion  of  addrefling  the  Livery  of  London  in  public  ;  but 
at  this  time  I  find  myfelf  at  an  unufual  lofs,  being  under  all  the  difficulties  which  a  want  of  matter 
deferving  your  notice,  can  create.  Had  I  now  your  rights  and  privileges  to  vindicate, — had  I  the 
caufe  of  your  fuffering  trade  to  defend,— or  were  I  now  called  forth  to  recommend  and  enforce  the 
parliamentary  fervice  of  the  moft  virtuous  and  illuftrious  citizen,— tray  tongue  would  be  free  from, 


47»  <"8E  LIFE   OF  GLOVER, 

conftraint,  and  expatiating  at  large,  would  endeavour  to  merit  your  attention  ;  which  now  muft  b* 
confined  to  fo  narrow  a  fubject  as  myfelf.  On  thofe  occafions,  the  importance  of  the  matter,  and 
my  known  zeal  to  ferve  you,  however  ineffectual  my  attempt  might  prove,  were  alway  diffident 
to  promife  me  the  honour  of  a  kind  reception,  and  unmerited  regard.  Your  count.,  tance  firft  drew 
me  from  the  retirement  of  a  ftudious  life  ;  your  re;  eated  marks  of  diftinction  firft  point  d  me  out 
to  that  great  body,  the  merchants  of  London,  who,  purfuing  your  example,  conde  c<flded  to  intruft 
me,  unequal  and  unworthy  as  I  was,  with  the  moft  important  caufe  ;  a  caufe  where  your  intereft 
was  as  nearlj  concerned  as  theirs.  In  confequence  of  that  deference  wh;ch  has  been  j>aid  to  the 
fentiments  and  choice  of  the  citizens  and  traders  of  London,  it  was  impoffible  but  fome  faint 
luftre  muft  have  glanced  on  me,  whom,  weak  as  he  was,  they  were  pleafed  to  appoint  the  in- 
ftrument  on  their  behalf;  and  if  from  thefe  tranfactions  I  accidentally  acquired  the  fmalleft  fliare 
•f  reputation,  it  was  to  you,  that  my  gratitude  afcribes  it ;  and  I  joyfully  embrace  this  public  op 
portunity  of  declaring,  that  whatever  part  of  a  public  character  I  may  prefume  to  claim,  I  owe 
primarily  to  you.  To  this  I  might  add  the  favour,  the  twenty  years  countenance  and  patronage  of 
•ne,  whom  a  fupreme  degree  of  refpect  fhall  prevent  me  from  naming  ;  and  though  under  the 
temptation  of  ufing  that  name  as  a  certain  means  of  obviating  fome  mifconftructions,  I  fhall,  how 
ever,  avoid  to  dwell  on  the  memory  of  a  lofs  fo  recent,  fo  juftly,  and  fo  univerfally  lamented. 

"  Permit  me  now  to  remind  you,  that  when  placed  by  thefe  means  in  a  light  not  altogether  un 
favourable,  no  lucrative  reward  was  then  the  object  of  my  purfuit ;  nor  ever  did  the  promifes  or 
•ffers  of  private  emolument  induce  me  to  quit  my  independence  or  vary  from  the  leaft  of  my  for 
mer  profeffions,  which  always  were  and  remain  ftill  fotsnded  on  the  principles  of  univerfal  liberty  ; 
principles  which  I  aflurae  the  glory  to  have  eftabliflied  on  your  records.  Your  fenfe,  and  the  fenfe 
of  your  great  corporation,  fo  repeatedly  recommenced  to  your  reprefentatives  in  Parliament,  were 
my  fenfe,  and  the  principal  boaft  of  all  my  competitions,  containing  matter  imbibed  in  my  earlieft 
education,  to  which  I  have  always  adhered,  by  which  I  ftill  abide,  and  which  I  will  endeavour  t» 
bear  down  with  me  to  the  grave ;  and  even  at  that  gloomy  period,  when  deferted  by  my  good 
fortune,  and  under  the  fevered  trials ;  even  then,  by  the  fame  confiftency  of  opinions,  and  unifor 
mity  of  conduct,  I  ftill  preferved  that  part  of  reputation  which  I  originally  derived  from  your  fa 
vour,  whatever  I  might  pretend  to  call  a  public  character,  unfluken  and  unblemifhed;  nor,  once  in. 
the  hour  of  affliction,  did  I  banifli  from  my  thoughts,  the  moft  fincere  and  confcientious  intention 
of  acquitting  every  private  obligation,  as  foon  as  my  good  fortune  mould  pleafe  to  return ;  a  diftant 
appearance  of  which  feemed  to  invite  me,  and  awakened  fome  flattering  expectations  on  the  ru 
mour  of  the  vacancy  of  the  Chamberlain's  office  ;  but  always  apprehending  the  imputation  of  pre- 
fumption,  and  that  a  higher  degree  of  delicacy  and  caution  would  be  requifite  in  me  than  in  any 
other  candidate,  I  forbore,  till  late,  to  prefent  myfelf  once  more  to  your  notice,  and  then,  for  the 
firft  time,  abftracted  from  a  public  consideration,  folicited  your  favour  for  my  own  private  advan 
tage.  My  want  of  fuccefs  fhall  not  prevent  my  cheerfully  congratulating  this  gentleman  on  his 
election,  and  you  on  your  choice  of  fo  worthy  a  magiftrate;  and  if  I  may  indulge  a  hope  of  depart 
ing  this  place  with  a  fhare  of  your  approbation  and  efteem,  I  folemnly  from  my  heart  declare,  that 
I  fhail  not  bear  away  with  me  the  leaft  trace  of  difappointment." 

In  his  retirement,  he  finiflied  the  tragedy  of  Boadicea,  which  he  had  begun  many  years  before, 
and  in  1753,  it  was  brought  on  the  ftage  at  Drury-Lane,  and  acted  nine  nights,  with  great  fuccefs. 
From  the  following  lines  in  the  prologue,  it  appears  to  have  been  patronifed  by  his  friends  in  the  city. 

Befide  his  native  Thames,  our  poet  long 
Hath  hung  his  filent  harp,  and  hufli'd  his  tongue  ; 
At  length  his  mufe  from  exile  he  recals, 
Urg'd  by  his  patrons  in  Augufta's  walls, 
Thofe  generous  traders,  who  alike  fuftain 
Their  nation's  glory  on  th'  obedient  main, 
And  bounteous  raife  affliction's  drooping  train;. 
They  who,  benignant  to  his  toils,  afford 
Their  flickering  favour,  have  his  mufe  reftor'd> 
j  They  in  her  future  fame  will  juftly  fliare, 

,.    ,  -  But  her  difgrace,  herfelf  muft  fingly  bear  ; 

^  Calm  hours  of  learned  leifure  they  have  given, 

And  could  no  more;  for  genius  is  from  beav'a 


J 


THE   LIFE   OF   GLOVER.  4?c 

Though  there  is  rather  a  deficiency,  both  as  to  incident  and  characters  in  this  play,  yet  the  lan 
guage  is  veiy  poetical,  and  the  defcriptions  beautiful.  It  is  fuch  a  production  as  might  be  expected 
from  the  author  of  Leonidas ;  but  it  feems  better  adapted  to  give  pleafure  in  the  clofet  than  the 
theatre.  "  To  the  moft  material  objections,"  fays  Archbifliop  Herring,  writing  to  a  friend,  of  this 
play,  "  the  author  would  fay  (a  Shakefpeare  muft  in  fome  inftances)  that  he  did  not  make,  but 
told  it  as  he  found  it.  The  firft  page  of  the  play  (hocked  me,  and  the  Hidden  and  heated  anfwer  of 
the  Queen  to  the  Roman  ambaffador's  gentle  addrels,  is  arrant  madnefs;  it  is,  indeed,  unnaturak 
It  is  another  objection  in  my  opinion,  that  Boadicea  is  really  not  the  object  of  crime  and  punifli- 
ment,  fo  much  as  pity  ;  and  notwithftanding  the  ftrong  paintings  of  her  favagenefs,  I  cannot  help 
wifhing  flie  had  got  the  better.  She  had  been  moft  unjuftly  and  outrageoufly  injured  by  thofe  uni- 
verfal  tyrants,  who  ought  never  to  be  mentioned  without  horror.  However,  I  admire  the  play  in 
many  pafiages,  and  think  the  two  laft  acts  admirable.  In  the  fifth,  particularly,  I  hardly 
ever  found  myfelf  fo  ftrongly  touched."  Dr.  Pemberton  publifhed  "  Some  Reflections  on  the 
Tragedy  of  Boadicea,"  8vo,  1753,  to  recommend  this  play,  upon  the  principle,  that  dramatic  dia 
logue  without  incidents,  and  poetry  without  defcription,  metaphor,  or  fimiles,  approach  neareft  t« 
perfection,  becaufe  they  approach  neareft  to  nature.  From  tragedies  written  on  this  principle, 
verfe  fhould  alfo  be  rejected,  as  nothing  can  be  a  more  evident  or  perpetual  deviation  from  nature, 
than  dialogue  in  verfe.  Mr.  Crifp  Mills  addreffed  "  A  Letter  to  Mr.  Glover,  on  occafion  of  his 
tragedy  of  Boadicea,"  8vo,  1753,  in  which  he  applauds  him  for  the  regularity  of  his  piece,  but 
cenfures  him  for  omitting  to  introduce  into  it  a  plot  or  intrigue}  without  which,  he  thinks,  afe t  of 
connefJed  dialogues  can  never  be  a  play.  A  pamphlet  intituled  '*  Female  Revenge,  or  the  Britifh 
Amazon,  exemplified  in  the  life  of  Boadicea ;  with  obfervations  on  the  diction,  fentiments,  and 
conduct  of  the  play,"  Svo,  1753,  and  other  anonymous  remarks,  criticfms,  and  reflections,  appear, 
ed  about  this  time,  relating  to  this  play. 

In  1751,  he  publiflied  his  Medea,  a  tragedy,  4to,  taken  from  the  dramas  of  Euripides,  and  Se« 
neca,    and  conftructed  profeffedly  upon  the  ancient  plan,   each  act  terminating  with  a  chorus. 
It  was  not  acted  till  1767,  when  it  was  brought  on  the  ftage  at  Drury-Lane,  for  Mrs.  Yates's  be 
nefit,  and  has  fince  been  often  performed  with  fuccefs.     Heinfius  and  Scaligcr  have  called  the 
*'  Medea"  of  Seneca,  the  Alta  Medea;  but  that  title  more  properly  belongs  to  the  work  of 
Glover,  which  is  fuperior  both  to  the  "  Medea"  of  Seneca,  and  even  that  of  Euripides.    In  Eu 
ripides,  Medea  tells  us  that  flie  murders  her  children  becaufe  fhe  would  rather  have  them  fall  by  her 
own  hand,  than  by  the  hands  of  the  Corinthians,  which,  as  fhe  had  effected  the  death  of  Creufa, 
fhe  might  expect.     This  produces  very  little  that  is  interefting  or  affecting.    Indeed,  when  Jafon  is 
informed  of  the  murder  of  his  children,  he  gives  a  loofe  to  parental  forrow,  but  the  altercations  be 
tween  him  and  Medea  on  that  occafion,  are  very  low  and  trifling.     Seneca,  with  a  greater  appear 
ance  of  probability,  imputes  "her  murder  to  revenge.     When  Medea  difcovers  Jafon's  fond  affection 
for  his  children,  flie  immediately  meditates  their  deftruction.     But  when  he  defcribes  her  as  deli-  _ 
berating  upon  this  cruel  deed,  though  very  ingenious  in  his  diftinctions,  he  is  certainly  too  minute* 
.Medea'1}  motive  to  the  murder,  imputed,  as  it  is  by  Glover,  to  the  rage  of  madnefs,  is  much  more 
natural,  and  produces  more  affecting  fcenes  than  could  follow  from  the  motives  to  which  either  the 
Greek  or  Latin  poets  have  afcribed  it.     She  appears  in  the  work  of  our  countryman,  that  wild,  in 
furiate,  fun-born  Medea,  which  the  ancient  mythology  reprefents  her.  Her  indignation  on  the  thought 
of  Jafun's  deferting  her  for  Creufa,  is  forcibly  exprefled.     The  pathetic  manner  of  Euripides  is  hap 
pily  imitated  in  the  tender  converfation  between  Medea  and  her  children  in  the  fecond  fcene  of  the 
third  act.     When  fhe  is  told  by  Jafon  that  he  is  married  to  Creufa,   her  fudden  madnefs  is  well 
conceived,  and  expreffed  in  a  grand  and  affecting  manner.     But  when,  (till  raving  and  diftracted, 
flie  comes  upon  the  ftage,  her  hands  dropping  with  the.blood  of  her  children,  her  words  and  wild 
appearance  perfectly  harrow  up  the  foul. 

It  is  begun. 

•  Now,  to  complete  my  vengeance,  will  I  mount 
The  burning  chariot  of  my  bright  forefather  j 
The  rapid  fteeds  o'er  Corinth  will  I  drive, 
And  with  the  fcatter'd  lightnings  from  their  manea 
Confume  its  walls,  its  battlements,  and  towers; 
Then,  as  the  flames  embrace  the  purple  clouds^. 


*7»  TrfE  LIFE   OF   GLOVER. 

And  the  proud  city  crumbles  from  it?  bafe, 
The  demon  of  my  rage  and  indignation 
All  grim,  and  wrapt  in  terror,  lliall  beftride 
The  mountainous  embers  ;  and  denounce  abroad 
To  gods  and  men,  my  wrongs  and  my  revenge. 

When  her  returning  reafon  difcovers  to  her  what  (he  had  done,  her  horror  and  anguifh  are  dread 
ful,  even  beyond  imagination.  The  tragedy  ends,  like  that  of  Seneca,  by  representing  Medea 
fiiatched  up  into  the  air  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  dragons.  The  unities  are  pieferved  throughout,  the 
diction  in  general  is  harmonious,  poetical,  and  picturefque,  animated  in  proportion  to  the  fcenes  it 
reprefents,  and  rifing  or  falling  with  the  paffions.  But  the  thoughts  are  fometimes  fpun  too  fine  ; 
fome  of  the  epithets,  though  not  pedantic,  are  too  ftiff,  and  the  blank  odes  introduced  by  way  of 
chorus,  though  not  inharmonious,  muft  be  very  difagrceable  to  ears  long  accuftomed  to  rhyme  is 
Jyric  compofitions. 

At  length,  having  furmounted  the  difficulties  of  his  fituation,  he  again  relinquished  the  plea- 
fures  of  retirement ;  and  in  the  parliament  which  met  at  the  acceffion  of  his  prefent  Majefty,  1761, 
he  was  elected  for  Weymouth.  About  this  time,  he  interefted  himfelf  about  India  affairs,  at  one 
of  Mr.  Sullivan's  elections,  and- in  a  fpeech  introduced  the  fable  of  the  "  Man,  Horfe,  and  Boar," 
and  drew  this  conclufion,  that  whenever  merchants  made  ufe  of  armed  forces  to  maintain  their 
trade,  it  would  end  in  their  deftruction. 

In  1770,  he  publifhed  a  new  edition  (the  fifth)  of  Leonidas,  in  2  volf.  Izmo,  corrected  through, 
out,  and  extended  from  nine  books  to  twelve.  It  had  alfo  feveral  new  characters  added,  befides 
placing  the  old  ones  in  new  Situations.  The  improvments  made  in  it  were  very'confiderable ;  but 
the  public  curiofity  was  not  Sufficiently  alive  to  recompence  the  pains  beftowed  on  this  once  po 
pular  performance. 

On  the  failure  of  the  bank  of  Douglas,  Heron,  and  Company,  at  Ayr,  in  June  1772,  he  took  a 
very  active  part  in  the  fettling  thofe  complicated  concerns,  and  in  flopping  the  diftrefs  then  fo  uni- 
verfally  felt.  In  February  1774,  he  called  the  annuitants  of  that  banking-houfe  together  at  the 
King's  Arms  Tavern,  London,  and  laid  propofals  before  them,  for  the  fecurity  of  their  demands, 
with  which  they  were  fully  fatisfied. 

He  alfo  undertook  to  manage  the  interests  of  the  merchants  and  traders  of  London,  concerned 
in  the  trade  to  Germany  and  Holland,  and  of  the  dealers  in  foreign  linens,  in  their  application  to 
Parliament  in  May  1774.  Both  the  fpeeches  made  on  thefe  occafions  were  published  in  a^pamphlet 
in  that  year. 

In  1775,  he  engaged  on  behalf  of  the  Weft  India  merchants,  in  their  application  to  Parliament, 
and  examined  the  witnefles,  and  fummed  up  the  evidence,  in  the  fame  mafterly  manner  he  had 
done  on  former  occafions.  For  the  affiftance  he  afforded  the  merchants  in  this  bufinefs,  he  was  com. 
plimented  by  them  with  a  fervice  of  plate  of  the  value  of  300!.  The  fpeech  which  he  delivered  in 
the  Houfe  was  printed  in  that  year.  This  was  the  laft  opportunity  he  had  of -difplaying  his  orato 
rical  talents  in  public. 

Having  now  arrived  at  a  period  of  life  which  demanded  a  recefs  from  bufinefs,  he  retired  to  eafe 
and  independence,  and  wore  out  the  remainder  of  his  life  with  dignity  and  with  honour,  in  the 
excercife  of  the  virtues  of  private  and  domeftic  life,  and  in  his  attention  to  his  mufe.  He  died  at 
his  houfe  in  Albemarle-Street,  November  25.  1785,  in  the  7jd  year  of  his  age. 

No  edition  of  his  Leonidas  has  been  called  for  Gnce  1770.  His  London  was  reprinted  in  the  fecond 
volume  of  "  Pearch's  Collection  of  Poems,"  1774.  <^ie  Athenaid,  a  fequel  to  Leonidas,  which 
he  bequeathed,  with  his  other  manufcripts,  to  his  daughter  Mrs.  Halfey,  was  prefented  to  the  world, 
as  it  came  from  his  hands,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  corrections  from  the  pen  of  a  friend,  in  3  vols. 
i2mo,  1788.  He  has  alfo  written  a  fequel  to  his  Medea;  but  as  it  requires  fcenery  of  the  moft  expenfive 
kind,  it  has  never  been  exhibited.  It  is  faid,  indeed,  that  it  was  approved  by  Mrs.  Yates,  the  magic 
of  whofe  voice  and  adion  in  the  firft  part,  produced  as  powerful  effects  as  any  imputed  by  Greek  or 
Roman  poets,  to  the  character  fhe  reprefented.  He  has  left  fome  other  dramatic  pieces,  which,  it 
is  hoped,  will  be  prefented  to  the  world.  His  Leonidas,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1770,  Poem  on 
Sir  Jfaac  Newton,  London,  and  Hojier's  Ghoft,  are  now,  for  the  firft  time,  received  into  a  collco 
tion  of  Clascal  Englifh  poetry. 


THE   LIFE   OF   GLOVER.  tfj 

The  following  character  of  Glover,  drawn  up  immediately  after  his  death,  by  his  friend  Dr. 
Brocklelby,  and  printed  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1785,  is  adopted  without  exception,  as 
it  contains  an  accurate  and  elegant  eftimate  of  his  virtue,  his  learning,  his  eloquence,  his  patriotifm, 
and  his  poetry. 

"  Through  the  whole  of  his  life,  Mr.  Glover  was  by  all  good  men  revered,  by  the  wife  efteem- 
ed,  by  the  great  fometimes  carefled  and  even  flattered,  and  now  his  death  is  fincerely  lamented  by 
all  who  had  the  happinefs  to  contemplate  the  integrity  of  his  character.     Mr.  Glover,  for  upwards 
of  50  years  paft,  through  every  vicifiitude  of  fortune,  exhibited  the   moft  exemplary  fimplicity  of 
manners ;  having  early  attained  that  perfect  equanimity,  which  philofophy  often  recommends  ir» 
the  clofet,   but  which  in  experience  is  too  feldom  exercifed  by  other  men  in  the  left  of  trial.     In 
Mr.  Glover  were  united  a  wide  compafs  of  accurate  information  in  all  mercantile  concerns,  with 
high  intellectual  powers  of  mind,  joined  to  a  copious  flow  of  eloquence  as  an  orator  in  the  Houfe 
of  Commons.     Since  Milton,  he  was  fecond  to  none  of  our  Englifli  poets,  in  his  difcriminating  ju 
dicious  acquaintance  with  all  ancient  as  well  as  modern  literature ;  witnefs  his  Leonidas,  Medea, 
Boadicea,  and  London ;  for,  having  formed  his  own  character  upon  the  beft  models  of  the  Greek 
•writers,  he  lived  as  if  he  had  been  bred  a  difciple  of  Socrates,  or  companion  of  Ariftides.     Hence 
his  political  turn  of  mind,  hence  his  unwarped  affection  and  active  zeal  for  the  liberties  of  his 
country — • — hence  his  heartfelt  exultation  whenever  he  had  to  paint  the  impious  defigr  -  of  tyrants, 
in  ancient  times  fruftrated,  or  in  modern  defeated,  defeated  in  their  nefarious  purpofes  to  extirpate 
liberty,  or  to  trample  on  the  unalienable  rights  of  man,  however  remote  in  time  or  fpace  from  his- 
immediate  preferice.     In  a  few  words,  for  the  extent  of  his  various  erudition,  for  his  unalloyed  pa 
triotifm,  and  for  his  daily  exercife  and  conftant  practice  of  Xenophon's  philofophy,  in  his  private  as 
•well  as  in  public  life,  Mr.  Glover  has  left  none  his  equal  in  the  city,  and  fome  time,  it  is  feared, 
may  elapfe,   before  fuch  another  citizen  fhall  arife,    with  eloquence,   with   character,  and  with 
poetry,  like  his,  to  affert  their  rights,  or  to  vindicate  with  equal  powers,  the  juft  claims  of  free- 
born  men.     Suffice  this  teftimony  at  prefent,  as  the  well-earned  meed  of  this  truly  virtuous  man, 
whofe  conduct  was  carefully  marked,  and  narrowly  watched  by  the  writer  of  the  foregoing  hafty 
fketch,  for  his  extraordinary  qualities  during  the  long  period  in  human  life  of  upwards  of  40  years; 
and  now  it  is  fpontaneoufly  offered  as  a  voluntary  tribute,  unfolicited  and  unpurchafed;  but  as  it 
appears  juftly  due  to  the  memory  of  fo  excellent  a  poet,  ftatefman,  and  true  philofopher,  in  life  an* 
death  the  fame." 

This  account  of  his  private  and  public  character,  by  one  who  knew  him  well,  is  fo  ample  and  fatif- 
factory,  that  it  leaves  little  to  be  added.  In  the  domeftic  relations  of  hufband  and  parent,  his 
manners  were  as  amiable  as  his  abilities  were  refpectable.  In  the  character  of  a  merchant  he 
diftinguiflied  himfelf  by  the  moft  exemplary  integrity  ;  yet  in  fortune  he  made  no  advances  towards 
affluence.  He  was  a  patriot  of  the  moft  independent  caft,  and  fcorning  to  bind  himfelf  about  any 
one  political  party,  was  by  all  alike  neglected.  But  there  is  a  fame,  not  refultingfrom  fo  perifhable 
a  means  as  the  contention  of  parties,  and  alike  out  of  their  power  to  confer  or  take  away,  which 
\vill  long  flourifli  round  the  name  of  Glover. 

As  a  poet  his  abilities  are  already  well  known.  His  Leonidas,  though  not  in  the  higheft  clafs  of 
epic  poems,  had,  at  its  firft  publication,  many  admirers,  and  is  ftill  perufed  with  pleafure.  The  fub- 
ie<fl  of  the  poem  is  the  gallant  actions  of  Leonidas ,  and  his  heroic  defence  of,  and  fall  at  the  paf* 
of  Thermopylae.  It  is  characterized  by  a  bold  fpirit  of  liberty,  and  generous,  tender,  and  noble 
fentiments;  but  it  leans  towards  the  tender  rather  than  the  fublime.  The  author  every  where  ap 
pears  to  be  a  virtuous  man,  and  a  good  citizen;  he  exprefles  manly  and  patriotic  fentiments; 
though  many  of  them  are  taken  from  the  orations  of  Lyfias  and  Ifocrates.  The  ftyle  poflefles  many 
poetical  graces ;  but  it  is  often  familiar  and  profaic,  and  is  generally  deficient  in  that  awful  fimpli 
city,  and  unadorned  fublimity  which  are  the  characterises  of  the  epic  mufe.  It  abounds  in  the 
affecting,  the  tender,  and  the  beautiful,  more  than  in  the  heroic  and  fublime.  Some  of  the  cha- 
radlers  are  well-drawn,  and  fupported  with  proper  dignity  and  elevation.  The  ^pifode  of  Teribafas 
and  Ariana,  is  poetical  and  pleafing.  In  its  machinery  and  incident  it  has  been  thought  defective ; 
but  on  no  principle  or  reafon  whatever,  unlefs  a  fuperftitious  reverence  for  the  pra&ice  of  Homer  and 
Virgil.  Thefe  poets  very  properly  embelliflied  their  ftory  by  the  traditional  tales  and  popular  le- 


474  THE   LIFE   OF   GLOVER. 

jends  of  their  own  country ;  but  does  it  thence  follow,  that  in  other  countries,  and  in  other  ages, 
epic  poetry  muft  be  wholly  confined  to  antiquated  fictions  and  fairy  tales?  Lucan  has  compofed  a 
very  fpirited  poem,  certainly  of  the  epic  kind,  where  neither  gods  nor  fupernatural  beings  are  at  all 
employed.  Davenant  has  made  an  attempt  of  the  fame  kind,  not  without  fuccefs  ;  and  undoubted, 
ly  a  poetical  recital  of  great  adventures,  though  the  agents  be  every  one  of  them  human,  may  be 
made  productive  of  the  marvellous,  without  forfaking  the  probable,  and  fulfil  the  chief  requifites  of 
epic  compofition.  Leonidas  is  not  exactly  founded  upon  the  model  of  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  the 
JEneid  of  Virgil,  or  the  Jerufalem  of  Taflb,  the  three  moft  regular  and  complete  epic  works  that 
ever  were  compofed.  But  it  affords  a  fufficient  proof,  that,  however  the  ufe  of  machinery  may 
heighten  the  effect,  it  is  not  eflential  to  the  exiftcnce,  or  to  the  fuccefs  of  epic  poetry.  It  has  a 
juft  title  to  be  clafFed  with  Milton's  Paradife  Loft,  Lucan's  Pharfalia,  Statius's  Thebaid,  Camoen'* 
Lufiad,  Voltaire's  Henriade,  and  Wilkie's  Epigoniad.  The  diction,  the  characters,  and  the  narration 
of  the  poet  are  diftinguifhed  by  the  general  ftrain  and  fpirit  of  epic  compofition.  But  it  is  not 
without  defects.  It  is  too  abrupt  and  laconic  in  the  ftructure  of  its  periods  to  fuit  the  melody  of 
verfe,  and  is  deficient  in  that  poetical  enthufiafm  which  is  chiefly  raifed  and  nourished  by  an  inti 
mate  acquaintance  with  the  wild  and  fublime  fcenes  of  nature,  and  that  creative  and  vigorous  ima 
gination,  which  prefenting  a  higher  order  of  things  than  is  to  be  found  in  human  life,  produces  the 
marvellous,  and  raifes  that  admiration  which  ftiould  be  the  predominant  paflion  in  heroic  poetry. 
Hence  Thomfon,  who  was  a  poet'truly  infpired,  when  he  heard  that  a  citizen  of  London  had  paid 
liis  addrefles  to  the  epic  mufe,  exclaimed,  "  He  write  an  epic  poem,  who  never  faw  a  moan- 
tain  !" 

The  excellencies  of  Leonidas  have  received  every  poflible  recommendation  and  illuftration  from 
the  elegant  critique  of  Lyttleton,  and  the  learned  "  Obfervations"  of  Dr.  Pemberton  ;  to  which 
Mr.  Murphy  alludes  in  the  following  lines  inirted  in  the  lafl  edition  of  his  "  Epiftle  to  Dr.  Johns. 

For  freedom  when  Leonidas  expires, 
Though  Pitt  and  Cobham  feel  their  poet's  fires, 
Unmov'd,  lo !  Glover  hears  the  world  commend, 
And  thinks  even  Pemberton  too  much  his  friend. 

**  Since  I  have  read  Leonidas,^  fays  Lyttleton,  Common  Senfe,  No.  10.  "  I  have  been  fo  full'of 
all  the  beauties  I  met  with  in  it,  that  to  give  fome  vent,  I  found  it  neceflary  to  write  to  you,  and 
invite  my  countrymen  to  take  part  with  me  in  the  pleafare  of  admiring  what  fojuftly  defervea 
their  admiration.  And  in  doing  this  I  have  yet  a  farther  view  ;  I  defire  to  do  them  good  as  well  as 
pleaie  them  ;  for  never  yet  was  an  epic  poem  wrote  with  fo  noble  and  fo  ufeful  a  defign  ;  the  whole 
plan  and  purpofe  of  it  being  to  fliow  the  fuperiority  of  freedom  over  flavery  ;  and  how  much  vir-. 
tue,  public  fpirit,  and  the  love  of  liberty,  are  preferable  both  in  their  nature  and  effects,  to  riches, 
luxury,  and  the  infolence  of  power. 

"  This  great  .and  inftructive  moral  is  fet  forth  by  an  action  the  moft  proper  to  illuftrate  it  of  all 
that  ancient  or  modern  hiftory  can  afford,  enforced  by  the  moft  fublime  fpirit  of  poetry,  and  adorned 
by  all  the  charms  of  an  active  and  warm  imagination,  under  the  reftraint  of  a  cool  and  fober 
judgment. 

"  And  it  has  another  fpecial  claim  to  prote<5liou  ;  for  I  will  venture  to  fay,  there  never  was  aa 
epic  poem  which  had  fo  near  a  relaton  as  this  to  Common  Senfe ;  the  author  of  it  not  having 
allowed  himfelf  the  liberty  fo  largely  taken  by  his  predeceflors,  of  making  excurfions  beyond 
the  bounds,  and  out  of  fight  of  it,  into  the  airy  regions  of  poetical  mythology.  There  are  neither 
lighting  gods,  nor  fcolding  goddefles,  neither  miracles  nor  enchantments,  neither  monfters  nor 
giants,  in  his  work;  but  whatfoever  human  nature  can  afford  that  is  moft  aftonifhing,  marvellous, 
and  fublime.  •< 

"  And  it  has  (his  particular  merit  to  recommend  it,  that,  though  it  has  quite  the  air  of  an 
ancient  epic  poenV  there  is  not  fo  much  as  a  fingle  fimile  in  it,  that  is  borrowed  from  any  of 
the  ancients,  and  ,  :t,  I  believe,  there  is  hardly  any  poem  that  has  fuch  a  variety  of  beautiful 
comparifcns ;  fo  ju{  %  confidence  had  the  author  in  the  extent,  and  rich  abundance  of  his  own  $013,- 


THE   LIFE   OF   GLOVER.  47i 

"  The  artful  conduct  of  the  principal  defign  ;  the  flull  in  connecting  and  adapting  every  cpifode 
to  the  carrying  on  and  fewng  that  defign  ;  the  variety  of  characters,  the  great  care  to  keep  them, 
and  diftinguifh  each  from  the  other  by  a  propriety  of  fentiment  and  thought  ;  all  thefe  are  excel 
lencies  which  the  beft  judges  of  poetry  will  be  particularly  pleafed  with  in  Leanidas. 

"  Upon  the  whole,  I  look  upon  this  poem  as  one  of  thofe  few  of  diftinguiflied  worth  and  ex- 
aellence,  which  will  be  handed  down  with  refpect  to  all  pofterity,  and  which,  in  the  long  revolution 
of  paft  centuries,  but  two  or  three  countrit-s  have  been  able  to  produce.  And  I  cannot  help  congra 
tulating  my  own,  that  after  having  in  the  laft  age  brought  forth  a  Milton,  me  has  in  this  produce^ 
two  more  fuch  poets,  as  we  have  the  happinefs  to  fee  flourifli  now  together,  I  mean  Mr.  Pope,  ani 
Mr.  Glover."' 

Dr.  Pemberton's  obfervations  on  the  principal  characters  in  Leonidas,  under  the  head  "  Senti 
ment  and  Character,"  are  fubjoined ;  as  "  this  is  the  part  of  poetry,"  as  he  exprefles  it,  "  in  which 
the  divine  invention  is  moft  eminently  diftinguiflied." 

"  Xerxes  is  an  example  of  a  little  mind  inflated  with  abfolute  povref.  He  is  not  only  proud,  im 
patient  of  contradiction,  and  precipitate,  the  natural  effects  of  the  adoration  and  blind  fubmiffion, 
which  had  always  been  paid  him ;  but  we  fee  in  him  likewife  many  perfonal  weaknefles.  He  i» 
pofiefled  of  fo  mean  a  vanity,  as  to  conclude  his  great  and  cxtenfive  dominion  a  proof  of  his  being  f» 
lingular  a  favourite  of  heaven,  that  no  bounds  could  be  fet  to  his  good  fortune :  he  had  perfuadeil 
iimfelf,  that  the  Greeks  muft  have  the  fame  abject  veneration  for  him,  as  his  own  flaves ;  and  will 
fcarce  believe,  that  his  ambafladors  had  made  a  true  report,  who  bring  him  an  anfwer  contrary  to 
•what  his  foolilli  pride  had  imagined  ;  and  it  is  with  extreme  difficulty,  that  his  brothers  difluade 
him  from  proceeding  agatnft  them  upon  that  fuppofition  :  nay,  at  lafi  he  gives  order  for  attacking 
the  Greeks  with  the  air  of  being  ftill  confident  they  muft  fubmit  to  his  will  without  refinance.  We 
foon  after  find  this  haughty  and  infolent  monarch  indued  with  a  temper  fo  weak  and  fickle,  that  upon 
a  little  ill  fuccefs  all  his  vain  prefumption  and  confidence  abandon  him,  and  he  condefcends  to  the 
propofing  conditions,  which,  before,  his  pride  could  not  have  fuffered  him  to  think  of  without  the 
utmoft  indignation. 

"  In  his  brother  Hyperantbes  we  fee  a  good  character,  but  confined  to  the  virtues,  which 
can  have  place  under  arbitrary  government.  He  is  valiant,  fo  far  unprejudiced,  as  to  be  duly 
fenfible  of  the  fuperior  virtue  in  his  enemies ;  but  had  no  reluctance  to  commit  any  kind  of 
injuftice  towards  them,  when  his  brother  had  pitched  upon  them  for  a  conqueft.  Other- 
wife  he  has  great  good  nature,  and  a  juft  efteern  for  real  merit.  This  appears  in  his  behaviour 
towards  Demaratus,  the  Spartan  exile,  and  much  more  iu  his  fingular  affection  for  his  friend 
Teribafus. 

"  Teribafus  pofiefles  a  very  worthy  mind,  improved  by  the  ftudy  of  philofophy,  but  opprefied 
by  the  violence  of  a  foft  pafllon  ;  a  weaknefs,  which  the  luxury,  and  the  indulgence  for  pleafure  in 
»n  Afiatic  court  muft  have  greatly  increafed.  But  Teribafus  behaves  not  under  this  paflion  like 
the  whining  lovers  of  romance,  who  excite  our  contempt ;  but  in  fo  manly  and  reafonable  a  man 
ner,  that  makes  him  an  object  of  juft  compaffion,  and  ftill  worthy  the  efteem  of  every  one,  that 
Jus  any  feeling  for  human  weaknefs. 

But  unreveal'd  and  filent  was  his  pain  : 

Nor  yet  in  folitary  fliades  he  roam'd, 

Nor  fliun'd  refort ,  but  o'er  his  forrows  caft 

A  fickly  dawn  of  gladnefs,  and  in  fmiles 

Conceai'd  his  anguifli ;  B.  v.  ver.  5*. 

though  ftill 

•  the  fecret  flame 
Rag'd  in  his  bofom,  and  its  peace  confum'd. 

Ibid.  ver.  54. 

*•  Ariana  is <ftill  a  left  exceptionable  fubject  of  pity,  a»  \ve  do  not  fo  much  require  in  that  fer 
firmnefs  of  temper  to  refifl.  thefe  foft  impreffions.  Her  defpair  and  violent  refolution  in  confequencc 
•f  it  arc  the  cfieds  of  an  excels  of  paffion  ¥917  .natural  t»  the  Jfgrious  and  thoughtful  turn  »f  her 


47*  THE   LIFE    OF   GLOVER. 

"  This  epifode  is  a  fliining  ornament  in  the  poem,  as  fuch  a  tender  fcene  is  a  judicious  relief  to  the 
feverity,  which  is  the  general  caft  of  the  work,  and  is  founded  upon  a  kind  of  diftrefs,  which 
Ariftotle  exprefsly  prefers,  fuch  as  arifes  from  fome  error  in  a  perfon  of  great  and  confpicuous 
worth.  Too  frequent  a  reprefentation  of  calamities  abfolutely  unavoidable;,  ferve  only  to  deject  the 
Ipirits,  and  create  a  difrelifti  for  life ;  but  fuch  as  are  grounded  upon  pardonable  errors,  whether 
excefs  of  any  paflion,  or  defect  of  judgment,  inftruct,  while  they  excite  commiferation. 

"  Polydorus,  the  attendant  upon  Ariana,  is  an  example  of  an  heroic  fpirit  fo  oppreffed  by  the 
flower  of  his  age  being  wafted  in  flavery,  as  to  have  loft  all  tafte  of  life.  In  lefs  elevated  characters, 
long  continued  calamity  debafes  the  mind,  and  confines  its  wifhes  to  mean  gratifications;  but  in  the 
generous  breaft  of  Polydorus  it  ends  in  unfurmountable  grief.  The  only  pleafure,  to  which  we  find 
him  fenfible,  is  revenge. 

"  In  Demarattis,  the  exiled  king  of  Sparta,  we  have  another  example  of  unmerited  diftrefs,  but 
of  a  more  delicate  kind.  He,  cheriflied  in  a  luxurious  court,  with  all  the  ordinary  means  of  enjoy 
ment  in  his  power,  pines  away  at  the  fcnfe  of  being  out  of  a  condition  to  act  worthy  of  himfelf. 
In  his  interview  with  Polydorus  he  even  fufpects  and  laments  a  diminution  of  his  virtue.  In  his 
converfation  with  Xerxes,  though  at  firft  he  endeavours  to  fpeak  of  his  countrymen  with  as  much 
referve  as  poflible  ;  yet  we  foon  fee  his  admiration  of  their  virtues  carry  him  out  with  great  freedom 
in  their  praifes,  and  he  cannot  refrain  drawing  the  parallel  between  the  military  force  of  Greece 
and  of  Afia,  in  terms  very  difagreeable  to  the  monarch,  whole  protection  he  was  forced  to  accept ; 
and  in  the  end  breaks  into  a  flood  of  tears. 


-Afide 


His  head  he  turn'd,  and  wept  in  copious  ftreams,  &c. 

"  We  ought  not  to  pafs  over  another  obfervation  upon  this  dialogue  ;  the  great  diftinctnefs  with 
which  the  argument  is  here  explained.  The  poet  has  been  able  to  give  every  proof  its  due  place  and 
force  unreftrained  by  the  numbers  of  his  verfe. 

"  If  we  are  prefented  in  the  Perfian  army  with  patterns  of  ill  fortune,  op  which  we  muft  reflect 
with  regret ;  when  we  turn  our  eyes  to  the  Grecian  camp,  we  fiiid  a  very  different  fcene.  There 
magnanimity  is  matched  againft  the  greateft  difficulty  human  nature  can  have  to  contend  with,  the 
certain  expectation  of  death  :  but  the  fortitude  and  vigour  of  mind,  by  which  thefe  heroes  are  fupport- 
ed,  place  them  quite  out  of  the  fight  of  pity  ;  not  a  Cngle  circumftance  fuggefts  a  thought  of  their  be 
ing  unhappy  :  on  the  contrary,  they  are  continually  the  objects  of  our  admiration,  aimed  of  our 
envy.  This  ardent  fpirit  {nines  out  moft  eminently  in  LeoniJas,  their  chief;  but  from  him  diffufes  it- 
felf  through  them  all :  though  there  is  not  a  fingle  leader  of  eminence  among  them,  which  the  poet 
has  not  marked  with  a  character  peculiarly  his  own. 

"  The  active  vigour  of  Alpleus  is  "very  diftinct  from  the  deliberate  valour  of  Dienecss. 

"  The  ambition  of  f.TegiJllcis  is  confined  to  merit  the  efteem  of  the  people,  by  whom  he  is  enter 
tained.  Upoa  this  principle  he  animates  hisfon  in  the  fourth  book,  and  the  fame  is  his  motive  for 
Iharing  their  laft  fate. 

"  The  filence  with  which  Menalippus  obeys  the  command  of  his  aged  father  to  provide  for  his  own 
fafety,  is,  I  think,  very  judicioufly  imagined.  For  though  it  is  not  neceffary,  that  every  gallant 
man  ihould  have  the  refolution  to  make  a  voluntary  facrifice  of  his  life;  yet  the  want  of  the  fame 
high  fpirit,  by  which  the  reft  are  animated,  muft  imprefs  on  him  that  confcioufnefs  of  his  inferi 
ority,  and  create  that  degree  of  confufion,  which  of  neceffuy  muft  clofe  his  lips. 

"  The  gentle  and  polite  character  of  Agis  renders  him  in  particular  worthy  the  intimate  friend- 
fliip  of  the  great  LeoniJas  ;  in  whom  humanity  and  a  genteel  turn  of  mind  diftinguifli  themfclves 
among  his  more  fublime  virtues. 

"  The  fiercenefs  of  Diomidtn  makes  indignation  and  high  contempt  of  an  effeminate  enemy, 
whom  he  had  formerly  feen  to  fly  before  him,  a  ruling  motive  in  his  conduct. 

"  In  Demopbilus  we  fee  a  fpeculative  temper,  where  cool  reflection  fupports  an  aged  mind,  and 
fupplies  the  fire  of  youth,  This  draw*  from  him  thofe  inftructive  fentiments,  which  he  utters  over 
the  body  of  Plraortcs.  There  is  the  fame  air  in  the  fhort  addrefs  at  his  firft  interview  with  L:oniJas. 
And  the  fame  appears  again,  when  he  makes  his  choice  for  himfelf  and  all  hii  troops  to  accompany 


THE   LIFE   OF  GLOVER.  481 

LttniJat  in  his  laft  fate.    The  fublimity  of  this  character  diftinguifhably  appears , upon  this  occafion 
towards  his  kinftnan  Ditbyrambut. 

"  The  aged  Megijl:as  will  not  permit  his  fon  to  finifh  his  life  with  himfelf.  Dot  though  Devto- 
fbiluf  hears  the  affection  of  a  parent  to  his,  the  fuperior  turn  of  his  mind  makes  him  fonder  of  the 
glory  than  of  the  life  of  Ditlyramlus. 

"  Ditbyramlus  poffeffes,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  amiable  character  of  high  merit  accompanied 
with  equal  modefty.  His  ambition  is  ever  to  deferve  praife  rather  than  receive  it.  He  chooks  Di- 
vmedan  tor  his  co»ftant  companioti  in  action,  his  wiih  being  to  equal  the  greateft.  And  at  the  lame 
time  he  is  an  admirer  of  all  virtue  but  his  own. 

"  This  moderation,  and  delicacy  of  mind,  create  that  reluctance,  with  which  he  engages  Teri- 
lafuiy  whofe  virtues,  though  in  an  enemy,  he  held  in  high  efteem.  In  this  fcene  the  poet  has 
brought  together  feveral  characters,  and  fupported  each  witli  great  fuccefs.  The  gloomy  cail  of 
mind,  which  ever  accompanied  Teriliafus,  here  appears  without  breaking  his  fpirit.  The  impa 
tience  with  which  Hyperantles  advances  forward,  when  he  hopes  to  fee  his  friend  victorious,  the 
eagernefs,  with  which  he  flies  to  revenge  upon  his  difappointment,  and  the  fudden  fufpenfe  of  that 
refoluti»n  to  afiift  his  dying  friend,  with  the  return  of  his  indignation,  as  foon  as  his  friend  expires, 
are  ftrong  effects  of  that  warmth  of  heart  becoming  a  firm  amity. 

"  The  refpeftive  characters  of  thefe  two  heroes  are  alfo  well  preferved  in  the  manner,  wherem 
each  takes  his  refolution  to  {hare  the  glory  with  Leonidas  in  his  fatal  cataftrophe.  The,  fierce  intre 
pidity  of  Diomedon  prompts  him  to  appear  the  forernoft  of  all  in  this  high-fpirited  refolution  ;  and 
Ditbyrambus  with  the  mddefty  peculiar  to  his  character,  is  felicitous  to  throw  an  humble  fhadc 
(B»er  his  own  glory. 

"  For  brevity  I  pafs  over  the  leffer  characters  of  the  poem ;  though  they  alfo  are  diftindtly  mark 
ed.  The  favage  fiercenefs  of  Pbraortcs,  die  vain  arrogance  of  Tigrants,  the  diffidence  and  hypo- 
crify  of  Anaxander,  and  the  confidence  in  villany  of  Epialtcs,  are  very  manifeft. 

"  The  cnarader  of  Leonidas  is  the  moft  dHlin<Sly  exhibited  of  any,  being  placed  in  a  greater  va 
riety  of  lights.  We  fee  him  in  council,  in  the  army,  in  his  family,  and  in  his  retirements.  His 
firft  appearance  in  the  Spartan  council  fliows  us  the  ruling  principle  of  his  mind.  The  general 
principle,  upon  which  valiant  and  heroic  actions  are  founded,  is,  that  there  are  occafions,  which 
make  it  reafonable  to  put  life  in  hazard.  And  we  daily  fee  this  principle  exerted  in  very  different 
degrees  in  proportion  to  the  meafure  of  courage  aud  fpirit  of  different  men.  But  Leonidas  extends 
this  principle  fo  far,  and  has  formed  fo  exalted  a  conception  of  virtue,  as  to  think  it  neceffary  for  a 
jreat  man  to  place  the  defire  of  life  wholly  out  of  the  queftion. 

"  It  is  upon  this  foot,  that  notwithstanding  the  character  of  Leonidas  is  raifed  fo  far  above  that  of 
•ther  men,  yet  it  appears  abfolutely  natural ;  becaufe  his  motives  are  not  of  a  different  nature  from 
thofe  of  others,  but  only  improved  in  degree. 

"  When  Leonidas  is  retired,  and  the  warmth  of  heart  excited  by  the  public  prefence  is  fo  far  abated, 
that  he  is  left  without  reftraint  to  his  aool  reflections,  the  poet  has  taken  care  not  to  outrage  his  cha 
racter  by  diverting  him  of  human  nature ;  but  we  fee  thofe  ftruggles,  which  muft  necefiarily  paf» 
through  the  mind  of  the  greateft  man  upon  fo  extraordinary  an  occafion.  Here  he  is  not  without 
natural  fears;  but  has  a  fpirit  in  his  moft  deliberate  moments  to  overcome  them.  His  principal  mo 
tive  is  the  public  good ;  though  he  is  alfo  not  infenfible  to  the  fame  which  muft  accompany  fo  me 
ritorious  an  actien. 

"  Cold  men  have  confidered  this  fublime  -degree  of  that  defire  of  praife,  which  is  implanted  in 
our  nature,  as  a  weaknefs ;  but  it  is  certainly  a  part  ef  Leonldas'i  character  to  hold  it  in  high  efteem ; 
for  as  he  has  recourfe  to  it  for  the  fupport  of  his  own  mind,  fo  in  his  firft  fpeech  to  his  followers 
on  their  arrival  at  Thermopylae,  he  excites  them  to  aft  with  their  utmoft  vigour  upon  the  fame 
motives. 

"  In  his  family  another  part  of  his  character  appears.  He  is  there  tender  and  affectionate,  but 
ftill  able  to  fupprefs  the  fecret  motions  of  his  «wn  heart,  when  It  was  neceffary  for  infpiring  his 
queen  with  fpirit  to  fupp ort  a  calamity  unavoidable.  And  accordingly,  he  does  in  part  raife  and 
calm  her  mind.  But  when  the  fudden  warning  for  his  departure  haf  renewed  her  grief,  that  fhe 
faints  in  his  arms,  and  he  is  left,  as  it  were,  ajone  to  hirafelf ;  he  breaks  out  into  a  degree  of  tc.ndcr- 
VOL.  XI,  H  h 


4ga  THE   LIFE    OF  GLOVER. 

nefs,  that  fhows  all  his  foregoing  refolution  to  be  the  effect  of  true  firmnefs  of  mind,  i«t  of  it- 
fenfibility. 

"  We  next  fee  him  before  the  general  council  of  Greece.  And  here  he  acts  a  new  part.  In  the 
Spartan  council  he  exerts  a  fpirit  and  vigour,  that  commands  all  who  hear  him  ;  but  now  he  gives 
his  advice  with  the  moderation  of  one  more  difpofed  to  be  directed  than  authoritatively  to  influ 
ence  an  affembly,  to  whofe  prudence  the  general  flutes  of  the  country  had  intrufted  the  conduct  of 
their  affairs. 

"  He  is  next  brought  into  the  field,  and  fhown  in  the  midft  of  thofe  dangers,  to  which,  for  the 
public  fervice,  he  had  fo  freely  offered  himfelf.  And  here  the  fame  refolution  fupports  him  to  per 
form  with  the  greateft  coolnefs  all  the  offices  of  a  fldlful  and  prudent  commander,  to  contemn  in  his 
laft  hours  every  peril,  and  to  meet  his  fate  with  no  lefs  firmnefs  than  that,  wherewith  he  firft  ac 
cepted  of  it,  at  a  diftance  in  the  council  of  Sparta. 

"  Thus  I  think  our  author  in  his  principal  Grecian  heroes,  and  moft  eminently  in  Leonidas  their 
leader,  has  reprefented  with  fingular  ftrength,  and  truth,  virtuous  characters  of  high  fpirit  fuperior 
to  the  greateft  misfortunes ;  which  is  an  achievement  Plato  thought  the  moft  difficult  of  all  poetical 
imitation." 

The  author  of  the  "  Remarks  on  Leonidas,  in  the  "  Weekly  Mifcellany,"  No.  334.  after  taking 
notice  of  feveral  faults  and  improprieties,  concludes  thus :  "  F  Bought  in  juftice  to  confefs  to  thofe 
readers  who  may  chance  not  to  have  read  Leonidas,  that  though  there  are  faults  fufficient  to  juftify 
the  oppofition  I  made  to  it,  yet  there  are  beauties  more  than  fufficient  to  repay  thtm  the  trouble  in 
reading  it  over." 

In  the  Atbenaid,  which  is  a  poetical  hiftory  of  the  wars  between  the  Greeks  and  PerGans,  in 
thirty  books,  he  propoles  revenge  for  the  death  of  Leonidas,  as  the  great  fubject  of  his  poem.  The 
following  is  the  exordium  : 

The  Perfians  vanquifh'd,  Greece  from  bondage  fav'd,  • 

The  death  of  great  Leonidas  feveng'tt, 
By  Attic  virtue— —celebrate  O  mufe ! 

The  concluCon  is  in  the  fame  ftrain, 


Night  drops  her  fhade 

On  thirty  millions  flaughter'd.     Thus  th"y  death 
Leonidas  of  Sparta  -was  avcngd; 
Greece  thus  by  Attic  virtue  was  preferv'd. 

It  is  indeed  fo  much  a  counterpart  to  Leonidas,  though  ftill  more  profaic,  as  to  fuperfede  the  necef- 
fity  of  a  particular  critique.  Events  that  are  the  fubject  of  authentic  record,  are  ill  adapted  to  epic 
poetry.  At  the  fame  time,  the  hiftorical  tranfactions  of  every  age,  are  capable  of  poetical  arrange 
ment,  and  poetical  embellifhment.  But  the  narrow  and  limited  view  which  he  has  taken  of  his 
fubject,  removes  its  grandeft  and  moft  dignified  afpect, '  and  renders  the  epic  mufe  inferior  to  the 
hiftorical.  Many  of  the  epifodes,  however,  are  affecting  and  pathetic  ;  and  fome  of  the  characters 
are  well  drawn,  particularly  thofe  of  Themijtocles  and  Arljlides.  But  the  importance  and  dignity  of 
the  events  recorded  are  much  diminifhed  by  the  poetical  mode  of  narration,  and  ftrike  us  lefs  than  IB 
the  original  hiftorian. 

His  London  requires  no  diftinct  examination.  The  fubject,  which  is  the  origin  and  progrefs  of  com 
merce,  is  peculiarly  interefting  to  Britons ;  and  the  compofition  difcovers  a  vigour  of  invention,  a  force 
of  defcription,  a  dignity  of  fentiment,  and  a  facility  of  expreflion,  not  unworthy  of  the  author  of  Lea 
nt  Jas.  His  Ho/ier's  Cbojl  is  one  of  the  moft  pathetic  and  beautiful  ballads  in  the  Englifh  language. 


LEONIDAS:   A  POEM. 


IN   TWELVE   BOOKS. 


Ti  /cs  T«J  civiiivyiifly  y;Jg#j,  u  mioru 

a.-/f.->v 

PINO.  OLYMP.  OD.  I. 


PREFACE. 


To  illuftrate  the  following  poem,  to  vindicate  the 
fubject  from  the  ceni'ure  of  improbability,  and  to 
fhovv,  by  the  concurring  evidence  of  the  belt  hif- 
toriani,  that  fuch  dilinterefted  public  virtue  did 
once  exift,  I  have  thought  it  would  not  be  impro 
per  to  prefix  the  fubfequent  narration. 

While  Darius,  the  father  of  Xerxes,  was  yet  on 
the  throne  of  Perfia,  (Jleomenes  and  Demaratus 
were  kings  in  Lacedemon,  both  defcended  from 
Hercules.  Demaratus  was  unfortunately  "expofed 
by  an  uncertain  rumour,  which  rendered  his  legi 
timacy  fufpected,  to  the  malice  and  treachery  of 
his  colleague,  who  had  conceived  a  perfonal  re- 
fentment  againft  htm  ;  for  Cleomenes,  taking  ad 
vantage  of  this  report,  perfuaded  the  Spartans  to 
examine  into  the  birth  of  Demaratus,  and  refer 
the  difficulty  to  the  oracle  of  Delphi ;  and  was  uf- 
fifled  in  his  perfidious  defigns  by  a  near  relation 
of  Demaratus,  named  Leutychides,  who  afpired 
to  fucceed  him  in  his  dignity.  Cleomenes  found 
means  to  corrupt  the  prieftefs  of  Delphi,  who  ds-  , 
clared  Demaratus  not  legitimate.  Thus,  by  the 
bafe  practices  of  his  colleague  Cleomen«s,  and  of 
his  kinfman  Leutychides,  Demaratus  was  expelled 
from  his  regal  office  in  the  commonwealth,  a  La 
cedemonian,  diftinguiflied  in  action  and  counlel, 
and  the  only  king  of  Sparta,  who,  by  obtaining 
the"  Olympic  prize  in  the  chariot-race,  had  increat- 
ed  the  lullre  of  his  country.  He  went  into  volun 
tary  banifhment ;  and,  retiring  to  Afia,  was  there 
protected  by  Darius,  while  Leutychides  fucceeded 
to  the  regal  authority  in  Sparta.  Upon  the  death 
of  Cleomenes,  Leonidas  became  king,  who  ruled  in 
conjunction  with  this  Leutychides,  when  Xerxes, 
the  fon  of  Darius,  invaded  Greece.  The  number 
of  laud  and  jnval  forces  which  accompanied  that 
4 


monarch,  together  with  the  fervants,  women,  and 
other  ufual  attendants  on  the  army  of  an  eaftern 
prince,  amounted  to  upwards  of  live  millions,  as 
reported  by  Herodotus,  who  wrote  within  a  few 
years  after  the  event,  and  publicly  recited  his  hil- 
tory  at  the  Olympic  games.  In  this  general  af- 
fembly,  not  only  from  Greece  itfelf,  but  rrom 
every  part  of  the  world,  wherever  a  colony  o£ 
Grecians  was  planted,  had  he  greatly  exceeded 
the  truth,  he  muii  certainly  have  been  detected, 
and  cenfared  by  fome  among  fo  great  a  multi 
tude  ;  and  fiich  a  voluntary  faliehood  muft  have 
entirely  deftroyed  that  merit  and  authority,  which 
have  procured  to  Herodotus  the  veneration  of  all 
pofterity,  with  the  appellation  of  the  Father  of  Hif- 
tory.  On  the  firfl  news  of  this  attempt  on  their 
liberty,  a  convention,  compofed  of  deputies  fromr 
the  feveral  itates  of  Greece,  was  immediately  held 
at  the  lithmus  of  Corinth,  to  confult  on  proper 
meafures  for  the  public  fafety.  The  Spartans  alfo 
fent  meiTengcrs  to  inquire  of  the  oracle  at  Delphi 
into  the  event  of  the  war,  who  returned  with  an 
anfwer  from  the  prieftefs  of  Apollo,  that  either  a 
king,  descended  from  Hercules,  muft  die,  or  La 
cedemon  would  be  entirely  deilroycd.  Leonidas 
immediately  offered  to  facrifice  his  life  for  the  pre- 
fervation  of  ^acedetnon  ;  and,  marching  to  fher- 
mopylse,  poffcif.'d  himfelf  of  that  important  pafs 
with  three  hundred  of  his  countrymen;  who,  with 
the  forces  of  ibme  other  cities  in  the  Pehpounefus, 
together  with  the  Thebans,  Thel'pians,  and  the 
troops  of  thote  ftates,  whica  adjoined  to  Thermo 
pylae,  compofed  an  army  of  near  eight  thoulaud 
men. 

Xerxes  was  now  advanced  as  far  as  Theflalia ; 
when,  hearing  that  a  fmall  body  of  Grecians  was 
Hhij 


4*4 


PREFACE. 


affembled  at  Thermopyl*,  with  fomc  Lacedemo 
nians  at  their  head,  and  among  the  reft  Leonidas, 
a  dsfcendent  of  Hercules,  he  difpatched  a  fingle 
horfeman  before  to  obferve  their  numbers,  and 
difcover  their  defigns.  When  this  horfeman  ap 
proached,  he  could  not  take  a  view  of  the  whole 
camp,  which  lay  concealed  behind  a  rampart,  for 
merly  raifed  by  the  Phocians  at  the  entrance  of 
Thcrmopylx  on  the  fide  of  Greece ;  fo  that  his 
whole  attention  was  engaged  by  thofe  who  were 
on  guard  before  the  wall .  and  who  at  that  inftant 
chanced  to  be  the  Lacedemonians.  Their  manner 
and  geftures  greatly  aftoniflied  the  Perfian.  Some 
•were  amufing  themlelves  in  gymnaftic  exercifes ; 
others  were  combing  their  hair ;  .and  all  difcover- 
ed  a  total  disregard  of  him,  whom  they  fuffered  to 
depart,  and  report  to  Xerxes  what  he  had  feen ; 
which  appearing  to  that  prince  quite  ridiculous, 
he  fent  for  Demaratus,  who  was  with  him  in  the 
camp,  and  required  him  to  explain  this  ftrange 
behaviour  of  his  countrymen.  Demaratus  inform 
ed  him,  that  it  was  a  cuftom  among  the  Spartans 
to  comb  down  and  adjuft  their  hairx  when  they 
were  determined  to  fight  till  the  laft  extremity. 
Xerxes,  notwithftanding,  in  the  confidence  of  his 
power,  fent  ambafladors  to  the  Grecians  to  de 
mand  their  arms,  to  bid  them  difperfe,  and  be 
come  his  friends  and  allies ;  which  propofals  be 
ing  received  with  difdain,  he  commanded  the 
Medes  and  Ciffians  to  feize  on  the  Grecians,  and 
bring  them  alive  into  his  prefence.  Thefe  nations 
immediately  attacked  the  Grecians,  and  were  foon 
repulfed  with  great  flaughter;  frefh  troops  ftill 
fucceeded,  but  with  no  better  fortune  than  the 
firft,  being  oppofed  to  an  enemy  not  only  fuperior 
in  valour  and  refolution,  but  who  had  the  advan 
tage  of  difcipline,  and  were  furniihed  with  better 
arms,  both  offenfive  and  defenfive. 

Plutarch,  in  his  Laconic  Apothegms,  reports,  that 
the  Perfian  king  offered  to  inveft  Leonidas  with 
the  fovereignty  of  Greece,  provided  he  would  join 
his  arms  to  thofe  of  Perfia.  This  offer  was  too 
confiderable  a  condefcenfion  to  have  been  made 
before  a  trial  of  their  force,  and  muft  therefore 
fcave  been  prop«fed  by  Xerxes  after  fuch  a  fenes 
of  ill  fucccfe,  as  might  probably  have  depreifed 
the  infolence  of  his  temper ;  and  it  may  be  eafily 
admitted,  that  the  virtue  of  Leonidas  was  proof 
againft  any  temptations  of  that  nature.  Whether 
this  be  a  facl  or  not,  thus  much  is  certain,  that 
Xerxes  was  reduced  to  extreme  difficulties  by  this 
j-efohite  defence  of  Thermopylae,  till  he  was  extri 
cated  from  hi»  d&refs  by  a  M&iian,  named  Epial- 
tes,  who  conducted  twenty  thoufand  of  the  Per- 
fian  army  into  Greece  through  a  pafs,  which  lay 
higher  up  the  country  among  the  mountains  ui 
Oeta;  whereas  the  paflkge  at  Thermopybe  was 
fituated  on  the  fcafhore  between  thofe  mountains 
and  the  Malian  "bay.  The  defence  of  the  upper 
pa6  had  been  committed  to  a  thoufaud  Phocians, 
who,  upon  the  firft  fight  of  the  enemy,  inconfider- 
ately  abandoned  their  ftation,  and  put  themfelves 
in  array  upon  a  neighbouring  eminence ;  but  the 
Perfians  wifely  avoided  an  engagement,  and  with 
the  utmoft  expedition  marched  to  J  hermopylse. 

Leonidas  no  fooner  received  information  that  the 
Barbarians  had  palled  the  mountains,  and  would 
foon  be  in  a  fituation.  to  Jbrroucd  him,  than  he 


commanded  the  allies  to  retreat,  referving  the 
three  hundred  Spartans,  and  four  hundred  The- 
bans,  whom,  as  they  followed  him  with  reluc 
tance  at  firft,  he  now  compelled  to  ftay.  But  the 
Thefpians,  whofe  number  amounted  to  feven  hun 
dred,  would  not  be  perfuaded  by  Leonidas  to  for- 
fake  him.  Their  commander  was  Demophilus; 
and  the  moft  eminent  amongft  them  for  his  va 
lour  was  Dithyrambus,  the  fon  of  Harmatides.. 
Among  the  Lacedemonians,  the  moft  confpicucus 
next  to  Leonidas  was  Dieneccs,  who  being  told 
that  the  multitude  of  Perfian  arrows  would  ob- 
fcure  the  fun,  replied,  the  battle  would  then  be  in 
the  {hade.  Two  brothers,  named  Alphcus  and 
Maron,  are  alfo  recorded  for  their  valour,  and 
were  Lacedemonians.  Megiftias,  a  prieft,  by  birth 
an  Acarnaniau,  and  held  in  high  honour  at  Spar 
ta,  refufed  to  defert  Leonidas,  though  entreated  by 
him  to  confult  his  fafety,  but  fent  away  his  only 
fon,  and  remained  himfelf  behind  to  die  with  the 
Lacedemonians. 

Herodotus  relates,  that  Leonidas  drew  trp  his 
men  in  the  broadeft  part  of  Thermopylae,  where, 
being  encompaffed  by  the  Perfians,  they  fell  with 
great  numbers  of  their  enemies;  but  Plutarch, 
Diodorus  Siculus,  and  others,  affirm,  that  the  Gre 
cians  attacked  the  very  camp  of  Xerxes  in  the 
night.  Both  thcfe  difpofitions  are  reconcileable 
to  probability.  He  might  have  made  an  attack 
on  the  Perfian  camp  in  the  night,  and  in  the 
morning  withdrawn  his  forces  back  to  Thermo- 
pylx,  where  they  would  be  enabled  to  make  the 
moft  obftinate  r.fiftance,  and  fell  their  lives  upan 
the  deareft  terms.  The  action  is  thus  defcribed 
by  Diodorus :  "  The  Grecians,  having  now  re- 
"  jeded  all  thoughts  of  fafety,  preferring  glory  to 
"  life,  unanimoufly  called  on  their  general  to  lead 
"  them  againft  the  Perfians,  before  they  could  be 
"  apprifed  that  their  friends  had  pafTed  round  the 
"  mountains.  Leonidas  embraced  the  occafion, 
"  which  the  ready  zeal  of  his  foldiers  afforded, 
"  and  commanded  them  forthwith  to  dine  at  men 
'  who  were  to  fup  in  Elyfium.  Himfelf,  in  con- 
'  fequence  of  this  command,  took  a  repaft,  as  the 
'  means  to  furnifh  ftrength  for  a  long  continu- 
'  ance,  and  to  give  perfeverance  in  danger.  Af» 
'  ter  a  fhort  refrefhment,  the  Grecians  were  now 
'  prepared,  and  received  orders  to  afiail  the  ene- 
'  mies  in  their  camp,  to  put  all  they  met  to  the 
'  fword,  aud  force  a  paffage  to  the  royal  pavi- 
'  lion ;  when,  formed  into  one  compact  body  with 
"  Leonidas  himfelf  at  their  head,  they  marched 
"  againft  the  Perfians,  and  entered  their  camp  at 
"  the  dead  of  night.  The  Barbarians,  wholly  un- 
a  prepared,  and  blindly  conjecturing  that  their 
"  friends  were  defeated,  and  themfelves  attacked 
"  by  the  united  power  of  Greece,  hurry  together 
"  from  their  tents  with  die  utmoft  diforder  and 
"  confirmation.  Many  were  ilain  by  Leonidas 
"  and  his  party,  but  much  greater  multitudes  by 
"  their  own  troops,  to  whom,  in  the  midft  of  this 
"  blind  confuaon,  they  were  not  diftinguiihable 
"  from  enemies;  for  as  night  took  away  the 
"  power  of  difcerning  truly,  and  the  tumult  was 
"  fpread  univerfally  over  the  camp,  a  prodigious 
"  flaughter  mnft  naturally  enfuc.  The  want  of 
"  command,  of  a  watcb-woid,  and  of  confidence 
«  in  themfelvci,  reduced  toe  Perfians  to  fuch  a 


PREFACE. 


(late  of  confufion,  that  they  dedroyed  each  o- 
ther  without  diftinction.  Had  Xerxes  conti 
nued  in  the  royal  pavilion,  the  Grecians,  with 
out  difficulty,  might  have  brought  the  war  to 
a  fpeedy  conclufion  by  his  death ;  but  he,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  tumult,  betook  himfelf  to  flight 
with  the  utmoft  precipitation ;  when  the  Gre 
cians,  rufliing  into  the  tent,  put  to  the  fword 
moft  of  thofe  who  were  left  behind ;  then,  while 
night  lafted,  they  ranged  through  the  whole 
camp  in  diligent  fearch  of  the  tyrant.  When 
morning  appeared,  tke  Perfians,  perceiving  the 
true  ftate  of  things,  held  the  inconsiderable  num 
ber  of  their  enemies  in  contempt,  yet  were  fo 
terrified  at  their  valour,  that  they  avoided  a 
near  engagement;  but  enclofmg  the  Grecians 
on  every  fide,  ihowered  their  darts  and  arrows 
upon  them  at  a  didance,  and  in  the  end  de- 
ftroyed  their  whole  body.  In  this  manner  fell 
the  Grecians,  who,  under  the  conduct  of  Leo- 
nidas,  defended  the  pafs  of  Thermopylae.  All 
muft  admire  the  virtue  of  thefe  men,  who  with 
one  confent  maintaining  the  poft  allotted  by 
their  country,  cheerfully  renounced  their  lives 
for  the  common  fafety  of  Greece,  and  efteemed 
a  glorious  death  more  eligible  than  to  live  with 
dimonour.  Nor  is  the  confirmation  of  the  Per- 
Cans  incredible.  Who  among  thofe  Barbarians 
could  have  conjectured  fuch  an  event  ?  Who 
could  have  expected  that  five  hundred  men 
would  have  dared  to  attack  a  million  ?  Where 
fore  fhall  not  all  poflerity  reflect  an  the  virtue 
of  thefc  men  as  the  object  of  imitation,  who, 
though  the  lofs  of  their  lives  was  the  neceflary 
confequence  of  their  undertaking,  were  yet  un- 
conquered  in  their  fpirit ;  and  among  all  the 
great  names  delivered  down  to  remembrance, 
are  the  only  heroes  who  obtained  more  glory 
in  their  fall,  than  others  from  the  brighteft  vic 
tories  ?  With  juftice  may  they  be  deemed  the 
prefervers  of  the  Grecian  liberty,  even  prefer 
ably  to  thofe  who  were  conquerors  in  ,the  bat 
tles  fought  afterwards  with  Xerxes;  for  the 
memory  of  that  valour,  exerted  in  the  defence 
of  Thermopylae,  for- ever  dejected  the  Barba 
rians,  while  the  Greeks  were  fired  with  emu 
lation  to  equal  fuch  a  pitch  of  magnanimity. 
Upon  the  whale,  there  never  were  any  before 


"  thefe  who  attained  to  immortality,  through  the 
"  mere  excefs  of  virtue ;  whence  the  praife  of  their 
"  fortitude  hath  not  been  recorded  by  hidorians 
"  «nly,  but  hath  been  celebrated  by  numbers  of 
"  poets,  among  others  by  Simonides  the  lyric." 

Paufanias,  in  his  Laconics,  confiders  the  defence 
of  Thermopylae  by  Lconidas  as  an  action  fuperior 
to  any  achieved  by  his  cotcmporaries,  and  to  all 
the  exploits  of  preceding  ages.  "  Never  (fays  he) 
"  had  Xerxes  beheld  Greece,  and  laid  in  afties  the 
"  city  of  Athens,  had  not  his  forces  under  Hy- 
"  darnes  been  conducted  through  a  path  over 
"  mount  Oeta,  and  by  that  means  encompaffing 
"  the  Greeks,  overcome  and  flain  Leonidas.  Nor 
is  it  improbable,  that  fuch  a  commander  at  the 
head  of  fuch  troops  fhould  have  maintained  hi* 
poft  in  fo  narrow  a  pafs,  till  the  whole  army  of 
Xerxes  had  perifhed  by  famine.  At  the  fame  time 
his  navy  had  been  miferably  (battered  by  a  ftorm, 
and  worfted  in  an  engagement  with  the  Atheniani 
at  Artemifium. 

To  conclude,  the  fall  of  Leonidas  and  his  brave 
companions,  fo  meritorious  to  their  country,  and 
fo  glorious  to  themfelves,  hath  obtained  fuch  a 
high  degree  of  veneration  and  applaufe  from  paft 
ages,  that  few  among  the  ancient  compilers  of 
hidory  have  been  filent  on  this  amazing  inftance 
of  magnanimity  and  zeal  for  liberty ;  and  many 
are  the  epigrams  and  infcripdon*  now  extant, 
fome  on  the  whole  body,  others  on  particulars, 
who  died  at  Thermopylas,  dill  preferving  their 
memory  in  every  nation  converlant  with  learn 
ing,  and  at  this  didance  of  time  dill  rendering 
their  virtue  the  object  af  admiration  and  of  praife. 

I  mail  now  detain  the  reader  no  longer,  than  to> 
take  this  public  occafion  of  expreffing  my  fincere 
regard  for  the  Lord  Vifcount  Cobham,  and  the 
fenfe  of  my  obligations  for  the  early  honour  of 
his  friendflu'p ;  to  him  1  infcribe  the  following 
poem  ;  and  herein  I  fliould  be  judificd,  independ 
ent  of  all  perfonal  motives,  from  his  Lordftup'a 
public  conduct,  fo  highly  diftinguiihed  by  his  dif- 
intereded  zeal  and  unfhaken  fidelity  to  his  coun 
try,  not  lefs  in  civil  life  than  in  the  field  :1jto  him, 
therefore,  a  poem,  founded  on  a  character  enu- 
nent  for  military  glory,  and  love  of  liberty,  is  due 
from  the  nature  of  the  fubject. 

R.  GLOVER, 


BOOK     I. 


THE  ARGUMENT. 

XtRXES.  kingofPeriM,  >  ?.v  ngdrawn  together  the 
whole  force 'of  his  empir'-,  and  paffVd  over  the 
Hellelpont  into  Thrace,  W'th  a  denVn  to  con 
quer  Greece ;  the  deputie-  from  the  feveral 
itates  of  that  country,  who  had  Come  time  he- 
fore  afifembled  themfelves  at  the  luhmu&ef  Co 
rinth,  to  deliberate  on  proper  meafures  for  re- 
lifting  the  invader,  v.  ere  no  i'oontr  ayprifed  of 
tis  march  into  Thrace,  than  they  determined, 


without  further  delay,  to  difpute  his  paffage  at 
the  ftreights  of  Thermopylae,  the  rooft  acccf- 
fible  part  of  Greece  on  the  fide  of  Thraw  and 
Theflaly.  Alpheus,  one  of  the  deputies  from 
Sparta,  repairs  to  that  city,  and  communi 
cates  this  refolution  to  his  countrymen ;  wbo 
chanced  that  day  to  be  affcrab  .•.<!  •» expectation. 
of  receiving  an  anfwer  from  .-*.  polio,  to  whom 
they  had  fent  a  sneffenger  to  confntt  xbowt  the 
exent  of  the  war.  Leutychutcs,  ouc 


THE  WORKS   OF  GLOVER. 


two  kings,  counfels  the  people  to  advance  no 
farther  than  the  Ifthmus  of  Corinth,  which  fe- 
parates  the  Peloponnefus,  where  Lacedemon 
•was  fituated,  from  the  reft  of  Greece  ;  but  Le- 
onidas,  the  other  king,  diffuades  them  from  it. 
Agis  the  meflenger,  who  had  been  deputed  to 
Delphi,  and  brother  to  the  queen  of  Leonidas, 
returns  with  the  oracle  ;  which  denounces  ruin 
to  the  Lacedemonians,  unlefs  one  of  their  kings 
lays  down  his  life  for  the  public.  Leonidas  of 
fers  himfelf  for  the  victim.  Three  hundred 
more  are  appointed,  all  citizens  of  Sparta,  and 
heads  of  families,  to  accompany  and  rite  with 
him  at  Thermopylae.  Alpheus  returns  to  the 
Ifthmus.  Leonidas,  after  an  interview  with 
his  queen,  departs  from  Lacedemon.  At  the 
end  of  fix  days  he  encamps  near  the  Ifthmus, 
•when  he  is  joined  by  Alpheus;  who  defcribes 
the  auxiliaries,  then  waiting  at  the  Ifthmus, 
thofe  who  are  already  poffeffed  of  Thermopylae, 
as  alfo  the  pafs  itfelf ;  and  concludes  with  re 
lating  the  captivity  of  his  brother  Polydorus,  in 
Perfia. 

THE  virtuous  Spartan,  who  refign'd  his  life 
To  fave  his  country  at  th'  Oetaean  ftreights, 
Thermopylae,  when  all  the  peopled  eaft 
In  arms  with  Xerxes  fill'd  the  Grecian  plains, 
O  raufe,  record!  The  Hellefpont  they  pafs'd. 
O'erpow'ring  Thrace.  The  dreadful  tidings  fwift 
To  Corinth  flew.  Her  Ifthmus  was  the  feat 
Of  Grecian  council.  Alpheus  thence  returns 
To  Lacedemon.  In  affembly  full 
He  finds  the  Spartan  people  with  their  kings  ; 
Their  kings,  who  boaft  an  origin  divine, 
From  Hercules  defcended-  They  the  fons 
Of  Lacedemon  had  conven'd,  to  learn 
The  facred  mandates  of  th'  immortal  gods, 
That  morn  expected  from  the  Delphian  dome. 
But  Alpheus  fudden  their  attention  drew, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  them  :  For  immediate  war, 
My  countrymen,  prepare.  Barbarian  tents 
Already  fill  the  trembling  bounds  of  Thrace. 
The  Ifthmian  council  hath  decreed'to  guard 
Thermopylae,  the  Locrian  gate  of  Greece. 

Here  Alpheus  paus'd.    Leutychides,  who  fliar'd 
With  great  Leonidas  the  fway,  uprofe 
And  fpake.  Ye  citizens  of  Sparta,  hear. 
Why  from  her  bofom  fliould  Laconia  ftnd 
Her  valiant  race  to  wage  a  diftant  war 
Beyond  the  Ifthmus  ?  There  the  gods  have  plac'd 
Our  native  barrier.  In  this  favour'd  land, 
Which  Pelops  govern'd,  us  of  Doric  blood 
That  Ifthmus  inacceffible  fecures. 
There  let  our  ftandards  reft.  Your  fojid  ftrength, 
If  once  you  fcatter  in  defence  of  ftates    • 
Remote  and  feeble,  you  betray  your  own, 
And  merit  Jove's  derifion.  With  affent 
The  Spartans  heard.  Leonidas  reply 'd  : 

O  moft  ungen'rous  counfel !  Moft  unwife  I 
Shall  we,  confining  to  that  Ifthmian  fence 
Our  efforts,  leave  beyond  it  ev'ry  ftate 
Difown'd,  expos'd  ?  Shall  Athens,  while  her  fleets 
Unceafing  watch  th*  innumerable  foes, 
And  truft  th'  impending  dangers  of  the  field 
To  Sparta's  well-known  valour,  (ball  (lie  hear, 
That  to  barbarian  violence  we  leave 
Her  w»j>rote<;le.d walls?  Her  hoary  fires. 


Her  helplefs  matron1;,  and  their  infant  race, 
To  fervitude  and  fbame  f  Her  guardian  gods 
Will  yet  prelerve.  them.   Neptune  o'er  his  main, 
V/ith  Pallas,  pow'r  of  wifdoui,  at  their  helms, 
Will  loon  traniport  them  to  a  happier  clime, 
Safe  from  intuiting  foes,  from  falfe  allies. 
And  eleutherian  Jove  will  bieis  their  flight. 
Then  fliall  we  feel  the  unrefifted  force 
Of  Perfia's  navy,  deluging  our  plains 
With  inexhaufted  numbers.     Half  the  Greeks, 
By  us  bctray'd  to  bondage,  will  fupport 
A  Perfian  lord,  and  lift  th'  avenging  fpear 
For  our  dertruclion.  But,  my  friends,  reject 
Such  mean,  fuch  dang'rous  counlels,  which  would 

blalt 

Your  long-eftablifli'd  honours,  and  afiift 
The  proud  invader.     O  eternal  king 
Of  gods  and  mortals,  elevate  our  minds  ! 
Each  low  and  partial  paffion  thence  expel ! 
Greece  is  our  gen'ral  mother.   All  muft  join 
In  her  defence,  or,  fep'rate,  each  muft  fall. 

This  laid,  authority  and  fhame  controul'd 
The  mute  aflernbly.     Agis  too  appear'd. 
He  from  the  Delphian  cavern  was  return'd, 
Where,  taught  by  Phcebus  on  Parnaflian  cliffs, 
The  Pythian  maid  unfolded  Heav'n's  decrees. 
He  came;  but  difcontent  and  grief  o'ercaft 
His  anxious'brow.     Reluctant  was  his  rOngue, 
Yet  feem'd  full  charg'd  to  fpeak.  Religious  dread 
Each  heart  reiax'd.     On  ev'ry  vifage  hung 
Sad  expectation.  Not  a  whifper  told 
The  filent  fear.  Intenfely  all  were  fix'd, 
Ali  (till  as  death,  to  hear  the  folemn  tale. 
As  o'er  the  weftern  waves,  when  ev'ry  ilorra 
Is  huth'd  within  its  cavern,  and  a  b,reeze, 
Soft -breathing,  lightly  with  its  wings  along 
The  flacken'd  cordage  glides,  the  failor's  ear 
Perceives  no  found  throughout  the  vail  expanfe  ; 
None,  but  the  murmurs  of  the  Hiding  prow, 
Which  flowly  parts  the  frpooth  and  yielding  main  1 
So  through  the  wide  and  liftening  crowd  no  found, 
No  voice,  but  thine,  O  Agis,  broke  the  air  ! 
While  thus  the  iflue  of  thy  awful  charge 
Thy  lips  deliver'd.  Spartans,  in  your  name 
I  went  to  Delphi.  I  in^uir'd  the  doom 
Of  Lacedemon  from  th'  impending  war, 
When  in  thefe  words  the  deity  reply'd  : 

"  Inhabitants  of  Sparta,  Perfia's  arms 
"  Shall  lay  your  proud  and  ancient  feat  in  duft  j 
"  Unlefs  a  king,  from  Hercules  deriv'd, 
"  Caufe  Lacedemon  for  his  death  to  mourn." 

As  when  the  hand  of  Perfeus  had  difclos'd 
The  fnakes  of  dire  Medufa,  all  who  view'd 
The  Gorgon  features,  were  congeal'd  to  (tone, 
With  ghaflly  eyeballs  on  the  hero  bent, 
And  horror,  living  in  their  marble  form  ; 
Thus  with  amazement  rooted,  where  they  flood, 
In  fpeechlefs  terror  frozen,  on  tUeir  kings 
The  Spartans  gaz'd  :  but  ibon  their  anxious  loots 
All  on  the  great  Leonidas  unite, 
Long  known  his  country's  refuge.  He  alone 
Remains  unfliaken.     Rlfitig,  hedifplays 
His  godlike  prefence.  Dignity  and  grace 
Adorn  his  frame)  where  manly  beauty  joins 
With  ftrength  Herculean.  On  his  afpect  fliine 
Sublimed  virtue,  anddefire  of  fame, 
Where  jultice  givf  s  the  laurel,  in  his  eye 


LEONID  A  S. 


4S7 


The  inextinguifliable  fpark,  which  fires 
The  fouls  of  patriots ;  while  his  brow  fupporti 
Undaunted  valour,  and  contempt  of  death. 
Serene  he  catt  his  looks  around,  and  fpake  : 

Why  this  aftonifhment  on  ev'ry  face, 
Ye  men  of  Sparta  ?  Does  the  name  of  death 
Create  this  fear  and  wonder  ?  O  my  friends, 
Why  do  we  labour  through  the  arduous  paths, 
Which  lead  to  virtue  ?  Fruit  lets  were  the  toil, 
Above  the  reach  of  human  feet  were  plac'd 
The  diftant  fummit,  if  the  fear  of  death 
Could  intercept  our  paffage.     But  a  frown 
Of  unavailing  terror  he  afi'umes, 
To  (hake  the  firmnefs  of  a  mind,  which  knows 
That,  wanting  virtue,  life  is  pain  and  woe, 
That,  wanting  liberty,  ev'n  virtue  mourns, 
And  looks  around  for  happinefs  in  vain. 
Then  fpeak,  O  Sparta,  and  demand  my  life  ! 
My  heart,  exulting,  anfwers  to  thy  call, 
And  fmiles  on  glorious  fate.     To  live  with  fame, 
The  gods  allow  to  many  ;  but  to  die 
With  equal  luftre  is  a  blefling,  Jove 
Among  the  choiceft  of  his  boons  referves, 
Which  but  on  few  his  fparing  hand  bellows. 

Salvation  thus  to  Sparta  he  proclaim'd. 
Joy,  wrapt  awhile  in  admiration,  paus'J, 
Suspending  praife  ;  nor  praife  at  lad  refounds 
In  high  acclaim  to  rend  the  arch  of  heav'n: 
A  reverential  murmur  breathes  applaul'e. 
So  were  the  pupils  of  Lycurgus  train'd 
To  bridle  nature.  Public  fear  was  dumb 
Before  their  fenate,  ephori,  and  kings, 
Nor  exultation  into  clamour  broke. 
Amidft  them  role  Dieneces,  and  thus : 

Halte  to  Thermopylae.  To  Xerxes  (how 
The  difcipline  of  Spartans,  long  renown'd 
In  rigid  warfare,  with  enduring  minds, 
Which  neither  pain,  nor  want,  nor  danger  bend. 
Fly  to  the  gate  of  Greece,  which  open  (lands 
To  flavery  and  rapine.  They  will  (brink 
Before  your  (landard,  and  their  native  feats 
Refume  in  abject  Alia.  Arm,  ye  fires,   ' 
Who  with  a  growing  race  have  blefs'd  the  (late. 
That  race,  your  parents,  gen'ral  Greece  forbid 
Delay.  Heav'n  fummons.  Equal  to  the  cauie 
A  chief  behold.  Can  Spartans  afk  for  more? 

Bold  Alpheus  next.  Command  my  fwift  return 
Amid  the  Itlhmian  council,  to  declare 
Your  inltant  inarch.  His  dictates  all  approve. 
Back  to  the  Iflhmus  he  unweary'd  fpeeds. 

Now  from  th'  aliembly,  with  maje(tic  fteps, 
Forth  moves  their  godlike  king,  with  confcious 

worth 

His  gen'rous  bofom  glowing.  Such  the  port 
Of  his  divine  progenitor ;  impcll'd 
By  ardent  virtue,  ib  Alcides  trod, 
Invincible  to  face  in  horrid  war 
The  triple  form  of  Geryon,  or  againft 
The  bulk  of  huge  Antjeus  match  his  ftrength. 

Say,  mufe,  what  heroes,  by  example  hr'il, 
Nor  lefs  by  honour,  offer'd  now  to  bleed  ? 
Dieneces  the  foreaioft,  brave  and  ftaid, 
Of  vet'ran  (kill  to  rar.ge  in  martial  fields, 
Well-order'd  lines  of  battle.  Maron  next, 
Twin-born  with  Alphtus,  (hows  his  manly  frame. 
Him.  Agis  follow'd,  brother  to  the  queen 
Of  great  Leonid  as,  His  friend  in  war, 


His  try'd  companion.  Graceful  were  his  fteps, 

And  gentle  his  demeanor.  Still  his  foul 

Preferv'd  the  purell  virtue,  though  refin'd 

By  arts  unknown  to  Lacedemon's  race. 

High  was  his  office.  He,  when  Sparta's  weal 

Support  and  counfel  from  the  gods  requir'd, 

Was  fent  the  hallow'd  meirenger  to  learn. 

Their  myilic  will,  in  oracles  declar'd, 

From  rocky  Delphi,  from  Dodona's  (hade, 

Or  fea-encircled  Delos,  or  the  cell 

Of  dark  Trophonius,  round  Bceetia  known. 

Three  hundred  more  complete  th' intrepid  band, 

Illuftrious  fathers  all  of  gen'rous  fons, 

The  future  guardians  of  Laconia's  (late. 

Then  refe  Megiltias,  leading  forth  his  fan, 

Yeung  Menalippus.     Not  of  Spartan  blood 

Were  they.  Megiilias,  heav'n.enlighten'd  feer, 

Had  left  his  native  Acarnanian  (liore  ; 

Along  the  border  of  Eurotas  chofe 

His  place  of  dwelling.  For  his  worth  receiv'd, 

And  hofpitably  cheriih'd,  he  the  wreath 

Pontific  bore  in  Lacedemon's  camp  ; 

Serene  in  danger,  nor  his  facred  arm 

From  warlike  toil  fecluding,  nor  untaught 

To  wield  the  fword,  aud  poize  the  weighty  fpear. 

But  to  his  home  Leonidas  retir'd. 
There,  calm  in  iecret  thought  he  thus  explor'd  . 
His  mighty  foul,  while  nature  in  his  bread 
A  (hort  emotion  rais'd.  What  fudden  grief, 
What  cold  reluctance  now  unmans  my  hearty 
And  whifpers  that  I  fear?  Can  death  difmay 
Leonidas  ?  Death,  often  feen  and  fcorn'd, 
When  clad  moft  dreadful  in  the  battle's  front  ? 
Or  to  relinquifii  life  in  all  its  pride, 
With  all  my  honours  blooming  round  my  head, 
Repines  my  foul,  or  rather  to  forfake, 
Eternally  torfake  my  weeping  wife, 
My  infant  offspring,  and  my  faithful  friends? 
Leonidas,  awake.  Shall  thefe  withiland 
The  public  fafety  ?  Harkj  thy  country  calls. 
O  facred  voice,  I  hear  thee  I  At  the  found, 
Reviving  virtue  brightens  in  my  heart ; 
Fear  vaniflies  before  her.  Death,  receive 
My  unreluctant  hand.  Immortal  fame, 
Thou  too,  attendant  on  my  righteous  fall, 
With  wings  unweary'd  wilt  protect  my  tomb. 

His  virtuous  foul  the  hero  had  confirin'd, 
When  Agis  enter'd.  If  my  tardy  lips 
(He  thus  began),  have  hitherto  forborne 
To  bring  their  grateful  tribute  of  applaufe, 
Which,  as  a  Spartan,  to  thy  worth  I  owe, 
Forgive  the  brother  of  thy  queen.  Her  grief 
Detaiu'd.  me  from  thee.  O  unequall'd  man, 
Though  Lacedemon  call  thy  prime  regard, 
Forget  not  her,  fole  victim  of  diftrefs, 
Amid  the  gen'ral  fafety  '.  To  affuage 
Such  pain,  fraternal  tendernefs  is  weak. 

The  king  embrac'd  him,  and  reply'd  :  O  beft, 
O  deareft  man,  conceive  not,  but  my  foul 
To  her  is  fondly  bound,  from  whom  my  days 
Their  largeft  fliare  of  happinefs  dpriv'd! 
Can  I,  who  yield  my  breath,  left  others  mourn, 
Left  thoufands  fhould  be  wretched  when  (lie  pines, 
More  lov'd  than  any,  though  lefs  dear  than  all, 
C;ui  I  neglect  her  griefs?  In  future  days, 
If  thou  with  grateful  memory  record 
My  name  and  fate,  O  Sparta,  pafs  not  this 
Hh  iiij 


THE   WORKS   OF  GLOVER. 


488 

Unheeded  by.  The  life,  for  thee  refign'd, 
Knew  not  a  painful  hour  to  tire  my  foul, 
Nor  were  they  common  joys  I  left  behind. 

So  fpake  the  patriot,  and  his  heart  o'erfldw'd 
In  tead'reft  pafiion.    Then  in  eager  hafte 
The  faithful  partner  of  his  bed  he  fought. 
Amid  her  weeping  children  fat  the  queen 
Immoveable  and  mute.  Her  fwimming  eyes 
Bent  to  the  earth.  Her  arms  were  folded  o'er 
Her  lab'rirg  bofom,  blotted  with  her  tears. 
As  when  a  dufey  mift  involves  the  fky, 
The  moon  through  all  the  dreary  vapours  fpreads 
The  radiant  veflure  of  her  filver  light 
O'er  the  dull  face  of  nature;  fo  the  queen, 
Divinely  graceful  finning  ttyreugh  her  grief, 
Brighten'd  the  cloud  of  woe.  Her  lord  approach'd. 
Socn,  as  in  gentleit  phrafe  his  well-known  voice 
Awak'd  her  drooping  fpirit,  for  a  time 
Care  was  appeas'd.  She  lifts  her  languid  head. 
She  gives  this  utt'rance  to  her  tender  thoughts : 

O  thou,  whofe  piefence  is  my  fo!e  delightj 
If  thus,  Leonidas,  thy  looks  and  words 
Can  check  the  rapid  current  of  diftrefs, 
How  am  1  rnark'd  for  mifery!  How  long! 
When  of  life's  journey  lefs  than  half  is  pafs'd, 
And  I  muft  hear  thofe  calming  founds  no  more, 
Nor  fee  that  face  which  makes  affliction  fmile. 

.This  faid'returning  grief  o'erwhdms her  breaft. 
Her  orphan  children,  her  devoted  lord, 
Pale,  bleeding,  breathlefs  on  the  field  of  death, 
Her  ever-during  foiitude  of  yvoe, 
All  rife  in  mingled  honor  to  her  fight, 
When  thus  in  bitt'reft  agony  flic  fpake  : 

0  whither  art  thou  going  froni  my  arms  ? 
Shall  I  no  moi  e  behold  thee  ?  Oh. !  no  more, 
In  conqueft  clad,  o'erfpread  with  glorious  duft, 
Wilt  thou  return  to  greet  thy  native  foil. 
And  find  thy  dwelling  joyful !  Ah!  too  brave, 
Why  would'ft  thou  hurry  to  the  dreary  gates 
Of  death,  uncall'd— —Another  might  have  bled, 
Like  thee  a  vj&im  of  Alcides'  race, 

Lefs  dear  to  all,  and  Sparta  been  fecure. 

Now  ev'ry  eye  with  mine  is  drown'd  in  tears  ; 

All  with  thefe  babes  lamept  a  father  loft. 

Alas,  how  heavy  is  our  lot  of  pain  ! 

Our  fighs  muft  iaft,  when  ev'ry  other  breaft 

Exults  in  fafety,  purchased  by  our  lofs. 

Thou  didft  not  heed  our  anguifh — didft  not  feek 

One  paufc  for  my  inftruction  how  to  bear 

Thy  endlefs  ab fence.,  or  like  thee  to  die. 

Unutterable  forrow  here  confin'd 
Her  voice.  Thefe  words  Leonidas  retum'd : 

1  fee,  I  (hare  thy  agony.  My  foul 

Ne'er  knew  how  warm  the  prevalence  of  love, 

How  ftrong  a  parent's  feelings,  till  this  liour ; 

Nor  v  as  (be  onc.e  infenfible  to  thee 

In  all  her  fervour  to  afiert  my  fame. 

How  had  the  honours  of  my  name  been  ftain'd 

By  hefitatiop  ?  Shameful  life  preferr'd 

B-"  an  inglorious  colleague  would  have  left 

No  choice,  but  what  were  infamy  tc  fiiun, 

Not  virtue  to  accept.  Then  deem  no  more, 

That  of  fhy  love  regardlefs,  or  thy  tears, 

I  n  Ih,  uncall'd,  to  death.     The  voice  of  fate, 

The  gods,  my  fame,  my  country  prefs  my  doom 

Oh  !  thou  dear  mourner !  Wherefore  fwells  .afrelh 

That  tide  of  woe  ?  Leonidas  mufl  fall. 

Alas !  faj-  heavier  mifery  impends 


O'er  thee  and  thefe,  if,  foften'd  by  thy  tears, 

fhamefully  refufe  to  yield  that  breath, 
Which  juftice,  glory,  liberty,  and  heav'n 
Dlaim  for  my  country,  for  my  fons  and  thee. 
Think  on  my  long  unaltsr'd  love.     Reflect 
On  my  paternal  fondnefs.     Hath  my  heart 
E'er  known  a  paufe  in  love,  or  pious  care  ? 
Now  (hall  that  care,  that  tendernefs  be  fhown 
Moft  warm,  moft  faithful.     When  thy  hufband 

dies 

For  Lacedemon's  fafety,  thou  wilt  fliare, 
Thou  and  thy  children  the  diffufive  good. 
I  am  fefefSted  by  th'  immortal  gods 
To  fave  a  people.    Should  my  timid  heart 
That  facred  charge  abandon,  1  fhouhl  plunge 
Thee  too  in  fliaine,  in  forrow.      Thou  woulclft. 

mourn 

With  Lacedemon  ;  wouldft  with  her  fuftain 
Thy  paiul'ul  portion  of  oppreffion's  weight. 
Behold  thy  Ions  now  worthy  of  their  name, 
Their  Spartan  birth.  Their  growing  bloom 

would  pine 

Deprcfs'd,  difhonourrd,  and  their  youthful  hearts 
Beat  at  the  found  of  liberty  no  more. 
On  their  OWH  merit,  on  their  father's  fame, 
When  he  the  Spartan  freedom  hath  confirm'd, 
Before  the  world  illuftrioys  will  they  rife, 
Their  country's  bulwark,  and  their  mother's  joy. 

Here  paus'd  the  patriot.  In  religious  awe 
Grief  heard  the  voice  of  virtue.     No  complaint 
The  folemn  filence  broke.     Tears  ceas'd  to  flow ; 
Ceas'd  for  a  moment  foon  again  to  ftrearn. 
Behold,  in  arms  before  the  palace  drav.n, 
His  brave  companions  of  the  war  demand 
Their  leader's  prefence.  Then  her  jrriefs  renew 'd, 
Surpafling  utt'rance,  intercept  her  fighs. 
Each  accent  freezes  on  her  falt'ring  tongue. 
In  fpeechlefs  anguifh  on  the  hero's  breaft 
She  finks.     On  ev'ry  fide  his  children  prefs, 
Hang  on  his  knees,  and  kifs  his  honour'd  hand. 
His  foul  no  longer  ftruggles  to  confine 
Her  agitation.     Down  the  hero's  cheek, 
Down  flows  the  manly  forrow.     Great  in  woe 
Amid  his  children,  who  enclofe  him  round, 
He  ftands  indulging  tendernefs  and  love 
In  graceful  tears,  when  thus  with  lifted  eyes, 
^ddrefs'd  to  heav'n.      Thou  ever-living  pow'r, 
Look  down  propitious,  fire  of  gods  and  men  ; 
O  to  this  faithful  v  oman,  whofe  dtftrt 
May  claim  thy  favour,  grant  the  hours  of  peace ! 
And  thou,  my  bright  forefather,  feed  of  Jove, 
O  Hercules,  neglect  not  thefe  thy  race ! 
But  fince  that  fpirit,  1  from  thee  derive, 
Tranfports  me  from  them  to  refiftkfs  fate, 
Be  thou  their  guardian!  Teach  them  like  thyfelf 
By  glorious  labours  to  embellifh  life, 
And  from  their  father  let  them  learn  to  die. 
Here  ending,  forth  he  iffues,  and  aflumes 
Before  the  ranks  his  ftation  of  command. 
They  now  proceed.     So  mov'd  the  hofi  of  heav'n 
On  Phlegra's  plains  to  meet  the  giant  fons 
Of  Earth  and  Titan.     From  Olympus  march'd 
The  deities  embatttl'd;  while  their  king 
Tower'd  in  the  front  with  thunder  in  his  jrrafp. 
Thus  through  the  ftteets  of  Lacedemon  pafs'd 
Leonidas      Before  his  footfleps  bow 
The  multitude  exulting.     On-  he  treads 
Rever'd.     Unfated,  their  enraptur'd  fight 
5 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


Purfues  his  graceful  flature,  and  their  tongues 
Extol  and  hail  him,  as  their  gmardian  god. 
firm  in  his  nervous  hand  he  gripes  the  ipear. 
Low,  as  the  anklest  from  his  fhoulders  hangs 
The  maffy  fhield ;  and  o'er  his  burnifh'd  helm 
The  purple  plumage  nods.     Harmonious  youths, 
Around  whofe  brows  entwining  laurels  play, 
In  lofty-founding  drains  his  praife  record  ; 
While  fnowy-finger'd  virgins  all  the  way 
Beftrew  with  od'rous  garlands.     Now  his  breaft 
Is  all  poffefs'd  by  glory,  which  difpell'd 
\Vhate'er  of  grief  remain'd,  or  vain  regret 
For  thofe  he  left  behind.     The  rev'reiid  train 
Of  Lacedemon's  fenate  laft  appear 
To  take  their  final,  folemn  leave,  and  grace 
Their  hero's  parting  fteps.     Around  him  flow 
In,  civil  pomp  their  venerable  robes, 
Mix'd  with  the  blaze  of  arms.    The  fhining  troop 
Of  warriors  prefs  behind  him,  Maron  here 
"With  Menalippus  warm  in  flow'ry  prime, 
There  Agis,  their  Megiftias,  a»d  the  chief, 
Dieneces.    Laconia's  dames  afcend 
The  loftieft  manfions ;  thronging  o'er  the  roofs. 
Applaud  their  fons,  their  hufbands  as  they  march  : 
So  parted  Argo  from  th'  Colchian  flrand 
To  plough  the  foaming  furge.  Theflalia's  nymphs, 
Rang'd  on  the  cliffs,  o'erfhading  Neptune's  face, 
Still  on  the  diftant  vefiel  fix'd  their  eyes 
Admiring,  ftill  in  pscans  blefs'd  the  helm, 
By  Greece  intrufted  with  her  chofen  fons 
For  high  adventures  on  the  Colchian  fhore. 

Swift  on  his  courfe  Leonidas  proceeds. 
Soon  is  Eurotas  pafs'd,  and  Lerna's  bank, 
Where  his  victorious  anceftor  fubdu'd 
The  many  headed  Hydra,  and  the  lake 
To  endlefs  fame  confign'd.    Th"  unweary'd  bands 
Next  through  the  pines  of  Maenalus  he  led, 
And  down  Parthcnius  urg'd  the  rapid  toil. 
Six  days  incefiant  was  their  march  purfu'd, 
"When  to  their  ear  the  hoarfe-refounding  waves 
Beat  on  the  Ifthmus.     Kere  the  tents  are  fprcad. 
Below  the  wide  horizon  then  the  fun 
Had  dipp'd  hi*  beamy  locks.     The  queen  of  night 
Gleam'd  from  the  centre  of  th'  ethereal  vault, 
And  o'er  the  raven  plumes  of  darknefs  fhed 
Her  placid  light.     Lconidas  detains 
Dieneces  and  Agis.     Open  ftands 
The  tall  pavilion,  and  admits  the  moon. 
As  here  they  fit  converging,  from  the  hill, 
Which  rofe  before  them,  one  of  noble  port 
Is  feen  defcending.     Lightly  down  the  flope 
He  treads.     He  calls  aloud.     They  heard,  thei 

knew 
The  voice  of  Alpheus,  whom  the  king  addrefs'd 

O  thou,  with  fwiftnefs  by  the  gods  endu'd 
To  match  the  ardour  of  thy  daring  foul, 
What  from    the    Ifthmus   draws   thee?    Do   th 

Greeks 
Neglecl  to  arm  and  face  the  public  foe  ? 

Good  news  give  wings,  faid  Alpheus.     Greece 

is  arm'd. 
The    neighb'ring    Ifthmus    holds    th'   Arcadian 

bands. 

From  Mantinea  Diopluaitue.  leads 
Five  hundred  fpears ;  nor  Ids  from  Tegea's  wall 
With  Hegefander  move.     A  thoufand  more, 
Who  in  Orchomenus  refide,  and  range 
Along  Parrh«£us,  or  Cylkne's  brow  ; 


Who  near  the  foot  of  Erymanthus  dwell, 

)r  on  Alphean  banks,  with  various  chiefs 

~xpe<ft  thy  prefcnce.     Meft  is  Cloniug  fam'd, 

3f  ftature  huge,  unfhaken  r»ck  of  war. 

?our  hundred  warriors  brave  Alcma:on  draws 

From  ftately  Corinth's  towr's.      Two  hundre* 

march 

From  Phlius.    Them  Eupalamus  commands. 
An  equal  number  of  Mycenas's  race 
Ariftobulus  heads.     Through  fear  alone 
Of  thee,  and  threat'ning  Greece  the  Thebans  arm. 
A  few  in  Thebes  authority  and  rule 
Ufurp.     Corrupted  with  Barbarian  gold, 
'1  hey  quench  the  gen'rous,  eleuthenan  flame 
In  ev'ry  heart.     The  eloquent  they  bribe. 
By  fpecious  tales  the  multitude  they  cheat, 
Eftablifliing  bafe  mealures  on  the  plea 
Of  public  fafety.     Others  are  immcrs'd 
In  all  the  floth  of  plenty,  who  unmov'd 
In  fhameful  eafe,  behold  the  ftate  betray'd. 
Aw'd  by  thy  name,  four  hundred  took  the  field. 
The  wily  Anaxander  is  their  chief 
With  Leontiadcs.     To  fee  their  march 
I  ftaid,  then  haften'd  to  furvey  the  {heights, 
Which  thou  fhalt  render  facred  to  renown. 

Forever  mingled  with  a  crumbling  foil, 
Which  moulders  round  th'  indented  Malian  coafl, 
The  fea  rolls  flhny.     On  a  folid  rock, 
Which  forms  the  inmoft  limit  of  a  bay, 
Thermopylx  is  ftretch'd.   Where  broadeft  fpread, 
It  meafures  threefcore  paces,  bounded  here 
By  the  fait  ooze,  which  underneath  prefents 
A  dreary  furface ;  there  the  lofty  cliffs 
Of  woody'd  Oeta  overlook  the  pafs, 
And  far  beyond  o'er  half  the  furge  below 
Their  horrid  umbrage  caft.     Acrofs  the  mouth 
An  ancient  bulwark  of  the  Phocians  ftands, 
A  wall  with  gates  and  tow'rs.  The  Locrian  force. 
Was  marching  forward.    Them  I  pafs'd  to  greet 
Demophilus  of  Thefpia,  who  had  pitch'd 
Seven  hundred  fpears  before  th'  important  fence. 
His  brother's  fon  attends  the  rev'rend  chief, 
Young  Dithyrambus.     He  for  noble  deeds, 
Yet  more  for  temperance  of  mind  renown'd, 
In  early  bloom  with  brighteft  honours  fhines, 
Nor  wantons  in  the  blaze.     Here  Agis  fpake : 

Well  haft  thou  painted  that  illuftrious  youth. 
He  is  my  hoft  at  Thefpia.     Though  adorn'd 
With  various  wreaths,  by  fame,  by  fortune  blefs'c^ 
His  gentle  virtues  take  from  envy's  lips 
Their  blafting  venom;  and  her  baneful  eye 
Strives  on  his  worth  to  fmile.     In  filence  all 
Again  remain,  when  Alpheus  thus  proceeds : 

Jflatxa's  chofen  veterans  I  faw, 
Small  in  their  number,  matchlefs  in  their  fame. 
Diomedon  the  leader.     Keen  his  fword 
At  Marathon  was  felt,  where  Afia  bled. 
Thefe  guard  Thermopylae.     Among  the  hills, 
Unknown  to  ftrangers  winds  an  upper  ftreight, 
Which  by  a  thoufand  Phocians  is  i'ccur'd. 

Ere  thcfe  brave  Greejts  I  quitted,  in  the  bay 
A  ftately  chieftain  of  th'  Athenian  fleet 
Arriv'd.     I  join'd  him.     Copious  in  thy  praife 
He  utter'd  rapture,  but  aufterely  blam'd 
Laconia's  tardy  counfels ;  while  the  fhips 
Of  Athens  long  had  llemm'd  Euboean  tides, 
Which  flow  not  diftant  from  our  future  poft. 
This  was  the  far  "fam'd  -/F.ichylus>  by  Mars, 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


By  Phcebus  lov'd.     Farnaffus  him  proclaims 
The  firft  of  Attic  poets,  him  the  plains 
Of  Marathon  a  fohiier,  try'd  in  arms. 

Well  may  Athenians  murmur,  faid  the  king. 
Too  long  hath  Sparta  flumbcr'd  on  her  fhield. 
By  morn,  beyond  the  Iflhmus  we  will  fpread 
A  gen'rous  banner.     In  Laconian  ftrains 
Of  Alcman  and  Terpander  lives  the  fame 
Of  our  forefathers.     Let  our  deeds  attradl 
The  brighter  mufe  of  Athens  in  the  fong 
Of  -i?Efchylus  divine.     Now  frame  thy  choice. 
Share  in  our  fate  ;  or,  haft'ning  home,  report, 
How  much  already  thy  difcerning  mind, 
Thy  active  limbs  have  merited  from  me, 
How  ferv'd  thy  country.    From  die  impatient  lips 
Of  Alpheus  fwift  thefe  fervid  accents  broke  : 

1  have  not  meafur'd  fuch  a  trad:  of  land, 
Have  not  untir'd,  beheld  the  fetting  fun, 
Nor  through  the  fhade  of  midnight  urg'd  my  fteps 
To  animate  the  Grecians,  that  myfelf 
3S#ight  be  exempt  from  warlike  toil,  or  death. 
Return  ?  Ah  !  no.     A  fecond  time  my  fpeed 
Shall  vifit  thee,  Thermopylae.     My  limbs 
Shall  at  thy  fide,  Leonidas,  obtain 
An  honourable  grave.    And  oh  !  amid 
His  country's  perils,  if  a  Spartan  breaft 
May  feel  a  private  forrow,  fierce  revenge 
1  fcek  not  only  far  th'  infulttd  ftate, 
But  for  a  brother's  wrongs.     A  younger  hope, 
Than  I,  and  Maron,  blcfs'd  our  father's  years, 
Child  of  his  age,  and  Polydorus  nam'd. 
His  mind,  while  tender  in  his  op'ning  prime, 
Was  bent  to  ftrenuous  virtue.     Gen'rous  f'corn 
Of  pain,  or  danger  taught  his  early  ftrength 
To  druggie  patient  with  fevereft  toils. 
Oft,  when  inclement  winter  chill'd.  the  air, 
"When  frozen  fhow'rs  had  fwoln  Eurotas'  ftream, 
Amid  th'  impetuous  channel  would  he  plunge 
To  breaft  the  torrent.     On  a  fatal  day, 
As  in  the  fea  his  active  limbs  he  bath'd, 
A  favage  corfair  of  the  Perfian  king 
!My  brother  naked  and  defencelefs  bore, 
Ev'n  in  my  fight,  to  Afia  ;  there  to  wafte 
"With  all  the  promife  of  its  growing  worth 
His  youth  in  bondage.     Tedious  were  the  tale, 
Should  I  recount  my  pains,  my  father's  woes, 
The  day  she  wept,  the  fleepkfs  nights,  he  beat 
His  aged  bofom.    And  fhall  Alpheus'  fpear 
Be  abfent  from  Thermopylae,  nor  claim, 
O  Polydorus,  vengeance  for  thy  wrongs 
In  that  firft  {laughter  of  the  baib'rous  foe. 

Here  interpos'd  Dieneces.     Their  hands 
He  grafp'd,  and  cordial  Lranfport  thus  cxprcfs'd  : 

O  that  Lycurgus  from  the  fhades  might  rife 
To  praife  the  virtue,  which  his  laws  infpire  ! 

Thus  till  the  dead  of  night  thefe  heroes  pafs'd 
The  hours  in  friendly  converfe,  and  enjoy'd 
.Each  other's  virtue.   Happieft  of  men  ! 
At  length  with  gentle  heavinefs  the  pow'r 
Of  fleep  invades  their  eye-lids,  and  conftrains 
Their  magnanimity  and  zeal  to  reft  : 
"When  fliding  down  the  fcemifpherc,  the  moon 
Immcrs'd  in  midnight  fhade  her  filver  head. 

,  II. 


THE    ARGUMKNT. 

LEONIDAS  on  his  approach  to  the  Iflhmus  is  met 
by  the  leaders  of  the  troops,  few  from  other 


Grecian  ftates,  and  by  the  deputies,  who  com- 
pofed  the  lithmian  council.  He  harangues  them  ; 
then  proceeds  in  conjunction  with  thefe  forces 
towards  'I  hermopylae.  On  the  firft  day  he  i* 
joined  by  Dithyrambus;  on  the  third  he  reaches 
a  valley  in  JLocris,  where  he  is  entertained  by 
Oiieus,  the  public  hoft,  of  the  Lacedemonian 
ftate  ;  and  the  next  morning  is  accompanied  by 
him  in  a  car  to  the  temple  of  Pan  ;  he  find* 
Meden  thtre,  the  Ion  of  Oiieus,  and  commander 
of  two  thoufand  Locrians,  already .  pofted  at 
Thermopylae,  and  by  him  is  informed,  that  the 
army  of  Xerxes  is  in  fight  of  the  pafs. 

AURORA  fpteads  her  purple  beams  around, 
When   move  the  Spartans.      Their  approach  i* 

known. 

The  Ifthmian  council,  and  the  diff 'rent  chiefs, 
Who  lead  th'  auxiliar  bands,  advance  to  meet 
Leonidas;  Eupalamus  the  ftrong, 
Alcma;on,   Clonius,  Diophantus  brave 
With  Hegefander.     At  their  head  is  feen 
Ariftobulus,  whom  Mycenae's  ranks 
Obey  Mycense  once  auguft  in  pow'r, 
In  fplendid  wealth,  and  vaunting  ftill  the  name 
Of  Agamemnon.     To  Laconia's  king 
The  chieftain  fpake.     Leonidas,  furvey 
Mycense's  race.     Should  ev'ry  other  Greek 
Be  aw'd  by  Xerxes,  and  his  eaftern  hoft, 
Believe  not,  we  can  fear,  deriv'd  from  thofe, 
Who  once  conducted  o'er  the  foaming  furge 
The  flrength  of  Greece  ;  who  defert  left  the  fields 
Of  ravag'd  Afia,  and  her  proudeft  walls 
From  their  foundations  levell'd  to  the  ground. 

Leonidas  replies  not,  but  his  voice 
Directs  to  all.     Illuftrious  warriors,  hail ! 
Who  thus  undaunted  fignalize  your  faith, 
Your  gen'rous  ardour  in  the  common  caufe. 
But  you,  \vhofe  counfels  prop  the  Grecian  ftate, 
O  venerable  fynod,  who  conlign 
To  our  protecting  fword,  the  gate  of  Greece, 
Thrice  hail !  Whate'er  by  valour  we  obtain, 
Your  wifdom  mufl.  prelerve.     With  piercing  eyes 
Contemplate  ev'ry  city,  and  difcern 
Their  various  tempers.     Some  with  partial  care 
To  guard  their  own  neglecl:  the  public  weal. 
Unmov'd  and  cold  are  others.     Terror  here, 
Corruption  there  prefides.     O  fire  the  brave 
To  gen'ral  efforts  in  the  gen'ral  caufe. 
Confirm  the  wav'ring.     Animate  the  cold, 
The  timid.     Watch  the  faithlefs.     Some  betray 
Themfelves  and  Greece.     Their  perfidy  prevent, 
Or  call  them  back  to  honour.     Let  us  all 
Be  link'd  in  facred  union,  and  this  land 
May  face  the  world's  whole  multitude  in  arms. 
If  for  the  fpoil,  by  Paris  borne  to  Troy, 
A  thoufand  keels  the  Hellefpont  o'erfpread  ; 
Shall  not  again  confederated  Greece 
Be  rous'd  to  battle,  and  to  freedom  give 
What  once  fhe  gave  to  fame  ?  Behold,  we  hade 
To  flop  th'  invading  tyrant.     Till  we  fall, 
He  fhall  not  pour  his  myriads  on  your  plains. 
But  as  the  gods  conceal,  how  long  our  ftrength 
May  fland  unvanquifh'd,  or  how  foon  may  yield  ; 
Wafte  not-a  moment,  till  confenting  Greece 
Range  all  her  free-born  numbers  in  the  field., 

Leonidas  concluded.     Awful  ftepp'd 
Before  the  /age  affumbly  one-  fupreme 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


And  old  in  office,  who  addrefs'd  the  king. 

Thy  bright  example  ev'ry  heart  unites. 
From  thce  her  happieft  omens  Greece  derives 
Of  concord,  fafety,  liberty  and  fame. 
Go  then,  O  firft  of  mortals,  go,  imprefs 
Amaze  and  terror  on  the  barb  rous  hod  ; 
The  free-born  Greeks  inftructing  life  to  deem 
Lefs  dear,  than  honour,  and  thtir  country's  caufe 

This  heard,  Leonidas,  thy  fecret  foul, 
Exulting,  tafte  of  the  fvveet  reward 
Due   to  thy  name  through  endlcls  time.     Once 

more 

His  eyes  he  tnrn'd,  and  view'd  in  rspt'rous  thought 
His  native  land,  which  he  alone  can  fave  ; 
Then  fummon'd  all  his  majefty,  and  o'er 
The  Iflhmus  trod,     The  phalanx  moves  behind 
In  deep  arrangement.  So  th'  imperial  fhip 
With  (lately  bulk  along  the  heaving  tide 
In  military  pomp  conduces  the  pow'r 
Of  fome  proud  navy,  bounding  from  the  port 
To  bear  the  vengeance  of  a  mighty  ilate 
Againft  a  tyrant's  walls.     Till  lultry  noon 
They  march ;  when  halting,  as  they  take  repafl, 
Acrofs  the  plain  before  them  they  defer  y 
A  troop  of  Thefpians.     One  above  the  reft 
In  eminence  precedes.     His  glitt'ring  fhield, 
Whofe  gold-emblazon'd  orb  colle<5ts-the  beams, 
Caft  by  meridian  1'hoebus  from  his  throne, 
Flames  like  another  lun .     A  fnowy  plume, 
"With  wanton  curls  difporting  in  the  breeze, 
Floats  o'er  his  dazzling  cafque.     On  nearer  view 
Beneath  the  radiant  honours  of  his  creft 
A  countenance  of  youth  in  rofy  prime, 
And  manly  Iweetnefs  won  the  fix'd  regard 
Of  each  beholder.  With  a  modeft  grace 
He  came  refpe&ful  tow'rd  the  king,  and  fhow'd, 
That  all  ideas  of  his  own  defert 
Were  funk  in  -veneration.  So  the  god 
Of  night  falutes  his  empyreal  fire  ; 
When  from  his  altar  in  ih'  embow'ring  grove 
Of  balmy  Delos,  or  the  hallow  "d  bound 
Of  Tenedos,  or  Claros,  where  he  hears 
In  hymns  his  praifes  from  the  fons  of  men, 
He  reafcendsthe  high,  Olympian  feats: 
Such  reverential  homage  on  his  brow, 
O'erfhading,  foftens  his  effulgent  bloom 
With  lovdiinefs  and  grace.  The  king  receives 
Th'  illuftrious  Thefpian  thus.    My  willing  tongue 
Would  ftyle  thee  Dithyrambus.  Thou  doll  bear  . 
All  in  thy  afpecT:  to  become  that  name, 
Renown'd  for  worth  and  valour.  O  reveal 
Thy  birth,  thy  charge.  Whoe'er  thou  art,  my  foul 
Defires  to  know  thee,  and  would  call  thee  friend. 

To  him  the  youth.  O  bulwark  of  our  weal, 
My  name  is  Dithyrambus;  which  the  lips 
Of  fome  benevolent,  fome  gen'rous  friend 
To  thee  have  founded  in  a  partial  ftrain, 
And  thou  haft  heard  with  favour.  In  thy  fight 
I  ftand,  deputed  by  the  Thefpian  chief, 
The  Theban,  Locrian,  by  the  fam'd  in  war, 
Eiomedon,  to  haflen  thy  approach. 
Three  days  will  bring  the  hoflilc  pow'rs  in  view. 

He  faid.  The  ready  ftandards  are  uprear'd. 
By  zeal  enforc'd,  till  ev'ning  lhadows  fall, 
The  march  continues,  then  by  day-ipring  fweeps 
The  earlieft  dews.  The  van,  by  Agis  led, 
Displays  the  grifly  face  of  battle  rough 
"  obliquely  trail'd  in  dreadful  length 


Along  th*  indented  way.  Bef.de  him  march'd. 

His  gallant  Thefpian  hoft.  The  centre  boafts 

Leonidas  the  leader,  who  retains 

The  good  Megiilias  near  him.  [n  the  rear 

Dieneccs  commanded,  who  in  v.hir;,-o 

That  Menalippus,  offspring  of  hi?  triend, 

For  thell-  indruclions.    Let  thine  eye,  young  man. 

Dwell  on  the  order  of  our  varying  march  ; 

As  champain,  valley,  mountain,  or  defile 

Require  a  change.  The  eaftern  tyrant  thus 

Conduces  not  his  Barbarians  like  the  lands 

In  number.  Yet  the  difcipline  of  Greece 

They  will  encounter  feeble,  as  the  fands, 

Daih'd  on  a  rock,  and  fcatter'd  in  their  fall. 

To  him  th'  inquiring  youth.  The  martial  treadj 
The  flute's  flow  warble,  both  in  juil  accord, 
Entrance  my  fenfes  ;  but  let  wonder  afk, 
Why  is  that  tender  vehicle  of  found 
Preferr'd  in  war  by  Sparta  ?  Other  Greeks 
To  more  fonorous  mufic  rufh  in  fight. 

Son  of  my  friend,  Dieneces  rejoins, 
Well  dofl  thou  note.  I  praife  thee.  Sparta's  law 
With  human  paffions,  fource  of  human  woes, 
Maintains  perpetual  ftrife.  She  llernly  cuibs 
Our  infant  hearts,  till  pafficn  yields  its  feat 
To  principle  and  order.  Mufic  too, 
Hy  Spartans  lov'd,  istemper'dby  the  law; 
Still  to  her  plan  fubfervient  melts  in  notes, 
Which  cool  and  footh,  not  irritate  and  warm. 
Thus  by  habitual  abftinence,  apply'd 
To  ev'ry  fenfe,  fuppreffing  nature's  fire, 
By  modes  of  duty,  not  by  ardour  fway'd, 
O'er  each  impetuous  enemy  abroad, 
At  home  o'er  vice  and  pleufure  we  prevail. 

O  might  I  merit  a  Laconian  name  ! 
The  Acarnanian  anfwer'd.  But  explain, 
What  is  the  land  we  traverfe  ?  What  the  hill, 
Whofe  parted  fummit  in  a  fpacious  vo.U 
Admits  a  bed  of  clouds  ?  And  gracious  tell, 
Whofe  are  thofe  fuits  of  armour  v.hich  I  fee 
Borne  by  two  Helots  ?  At  the  queftions  pl«as'4> 
Dieneces  continues.  Thofe  belong 
To  Alpheus  and  his  brother.  Light  of  foot 
They,  difencumber'd,  all  at  large  precede ' 
This  pond'rous  band.    They  guide  a  troop  of 

flaves, 

Our  miffile-weapon'd  Helots,  to  obferve, 
Provide,  forewarn,  and  obflacles  remove. 
This  traA  is  Phocis.  That  divided  hill 
Is  fam'd  ParnaiTus.  Thence  the  voice  divine 
Was  fent  by  Phcebus,  fummoning  to  death 
The  king  of  Sparta.  From  his  fruitful  blood 
A  crop  will  fpring  of  victory  to  Greece. 

And  thefe  three  hundred  high  in  birth  and  rankj 
All  citizens  of  Sparta  ....  cries  the  youth, 
They  all  muft  bleed,  Dieneces  fubjoint, 
All  with  their  leader.  So  the  law  decrees. 

To  him  with  earneft  looks  the  gen'rous  youth* 
Wilt  thou  not  place  me  in  that  glorious  hour 
Clofe  to  thy  buckler  ?  Gratitude  will  brace 
Thy  pupil's  arm  to  manifeft  the  force 
Of  thy  inftrudlion.  Menalippus,  no, 
Return'd  the  chief.    Not  thou  of  Spartan  breed, 
Nor  call'd  to  perifh.  Thou  unwedded  too 
Would'fl.  leave  no  race  behind  thee.  Live  t 
Live  to  enjoy  our  falutary  fall. 
Reply  is  needlefs.  See,  the  fun  defcends. 
The  army  halts.  1  truft  thee  with  a  charge, 


49* 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


Son  of  Megiftias.  In  my  name  command 
Th'  attendant  Helots  to  creel:  our  camp. 
We  pitch  our  tents  in  Locris.    Quick  the  youth 
His  charge  uccornplifli'd.   From  a  gen'rous  meal, 
"Where  at  the  call  oi  Alphrus,  .Locris  (how'r'd 
Her  Amalthean  plenty  on  her  friends, 
Tiie  Ikttd  warriors  foon  in  Dumber  lofe 
The  memory  ot  toil,     '.is  watciiful  round 
Dienece*  with  Menalippus  takes. 

The  moon  rode  high  and  clear.  Her  light  benign 
To  their  pleas'd  eyes  a  rural  dwelling  fhow'd, 
All  unadorn'd,  but  feemly.   hither  lide 
"Was  fenc'd  by  trees  high-fhadowing.  The  front 
Look'd  on  a  cryftal  pool,  by  feather* d  tribes 
At  ev'ry  dawn  frequented.  From  the  fpnngs 
A  imall  redundance  fvxl  a  ftitdlow  brook, 
O'er  I'mootheit  pebbio  rippling  juft  to  wake, 
Jlot  ftartie  filence,  and  the  ear  of  night 
Entice  to  litten  uudillurb'd.  Around 
The  grafs  was  cover'd  by  repofing  Iheep, 
Whofe  drowfy  guard  no  longer  bay'd  the  moon. 
The  warriors  llopp'd,  contemplating  :he  feat 
Of  rural  quiet.  Suddenly  a  fwa<n 
Steps  forth.  His  fingers  touch  the  breathing  reed. 
Uprife  the  fleecy  tram.  Each  fahhiul  aog 
Isrous'd.  All  heedful  of  tLc  wonted  found 
Their  kno\vn  conductor  follow.  Slow  behind 
Th' obferving  warriors  move.  Ere  long  they  reach 
A  braad  and  verdant  circle,  thick  enclos'd 
With  birches  flraight  and  tall,  whole  glofly  rind 
Is  clad  in  filver  from  Diana's  car. 
The  ground  was  holy,  and  the  central  fpoc 
An  altar  bore  to  Pan.  Beyond  the  orb 
Of  flcreening  trees  th'  external  circuit  fwarm'd 
With  flieep  and  beeves,  each  neighb'ring  hamlet's 

wealth 

Collected.  Thither  foon  the  fwain  arriv'd, 
Whom,  by  the  name  of  Meliboeus  hail'd, 
A  peafant  throng  furronnded.  As  their  chief, 
He  nigh  the  altar  to  his  rural  friends 
Addrefs'd  thefe  words:  Gfent  from  different  lords 
With  contribution  to  the  public  wants, 
Time  preffes.  God  of  peafants,  blefs  our  courfe ! 
Speed  to  the  flow-pac'd  ox,  for  once  impart ! 
That  o'er  thefe  valleys,  cool'd  by  dewy  night, 
We  to  our  fummons  true,  ere  noon-tide  blaze 
May  join  Oilews,  and  his  praife  obtain. 

He  ceas'd.  Toruflic  madrigals  and  pipes, 
Combin'd  with  bleating  notes  and  tinkling  hells, 
With  clamour  flirill  from  bufy  tongues  of  dog», 
Or  hollow -founding  from  the  deep-mouth'd  ox, 
Along  the  valley  herd  and  flock  are  driv'n 
Succeffive,  halting  oft  to  harmlefs  fpoil 
Of  flow'rs  and  herbage,  fpringing  in  their  fight. 
While  Melibosus  marfhall I'd  withaddrefs 
The  inoffenfive  hoft,  unfcen  in  fhades 
Dieneces  applauded,  and  the  youth 
Cf  Menalippus  cantion'd.  Let  no  word 
Impede  the  careful  peafant.  On  his  charge 
Depends  our  welfare.  Diligent  and  ftaid 
He  fuits  his  godlike  mafler.  Thou  wilt  fee 
That  righteous  hero  foon.  Now  fleep  demands 
Our  debt  to  nature    On  a  carpet  dry 
Of  mofs  beneath  a  wholefome  beech  they  lay, 
Arm'd  as  they  were.  Their  fiamber  ihort  retires 
With  night's  laft  fhadow.  At  their  warning  rous'd 
The  trdops  proceed.  Th'  admiring  eye  of  youth 
In  Mccalippus  caught,  the  morning  rays 


To  guide  its  travel  o'er  the  landfcape  wide 

Of  cultivated  hillocks,  dales  and  lawns, 

Where  manfions,  hamlets  interpos'd  ;  where  domes 

Rofe  to  their  gods  through  confecrated  fhades. 

He  then  exclaims.  O  lay,  can  Jove  devote 

Thefe  fields  to  ravage,  thofe  abodes  to  flames? 

The  Spartan  anfwers :    Ravage,  fword  and  fire 
Muft  be  endur'd  as  incidental  ills. 
Suffice  it,  thefe  invaders,  foon  or  late, 
Will  leave  this  foil  more  fertile  by  their  blood 
With  fpoils  abundant  to  rebuild  the  fanes. 
Precarious  benefits  are  thele,  thou  fee'ft 
So  fram'd  by  heav'n ;  but  virtue  is  a  good 
No  foe  can  fpoil,  and  lafting  to  the  grave. 

Befide  the  public  way  an  oval  fount 
Of  marble  fparkled  with  a  filver  fpray 
Of  falling  rills,  collected  from  above. 
The  army  halted,  and  their  hollow  cafques 
i)ipp'd  in  the  limpid  ftream.  Behind  it  rofe 
An  td'fice,  compos*  d  of  native  roots, 
And  oaken  trunks  of  knotted  girth  unwroughr, 
Within  were  beds  of  mofs.    Old,  batter'd  arms 
Hung  from  the  reof.  The  curious  chiefs  approach* 
i'hele  words,  engraven  on  a  tablet  rude, 
Megiftias  reads  ;  the  reft  in  filence  hear. 

Yon  marble  fountain,  by  Oi'lcus  plac'd, 

To  thirfty  lips  in  living  vater  flows ; 

For  weary  fleps  he  fram'd  this  cool  retreat ; 
"  A  grateful  olfring  here  to  rural  peace, 
"  His  dinted  ftiield,  his  helmet  he  refign'd. 

O  paffenger,  if  born  to  noble  deeds 

Thou  would' it  obtain  perpetual  grace  from  Jove> 
"  Devote  thy  vigour  to  heroic  toils, 

And  thy  decline  to  hofpitable  cares. 

Rell  here  ;  then  feek  Oileus  in  his  vale.*' 

O  Jove,  burft  forth  Leonidas,  thy  grace 
Is  large  and  various.  Length  of  days  and  Wife 
To  him  thou  giv'fl,  to  me  a  fhorten'd  term, 
Nor  yet  lefs  happy.  Grateful  we  confefs 
Thy  different  bounties,  meafur'd  full  to  both. 
Come  let  us  feek  Gileus  in  his  vale. 

The  word  is  giv'n.  The  heavy  phalanx  moves. 
The  light-pac'd  Helots,  long  ere  morning  dawn'd. 
Had  recommenc'd  their  progrefs.  They  o'ertook 
Blithe  Meiibceus  in  a  fpacious  vale, 
The  fniitfulleft  in  Locris,  ere  thr  fun 
Shot  forth  his  noon-tide  beams.  On  either  fide 
A  furface  fcarce  perceptibly  afcends. 
Luxuriant  vegetation  crowds  the  foil 
With  trees  clofe-rang'd  and  mingling.     Rich  the 

loads 

Of  native  fruitage  to  the  fight  reveal 
Their  vig'rous  nurture.  There  the  flufhing  peach, 
1  he  apple,  citron,  almond,  pear  and  date, 
Pomegranates,  purple  mulberry,  and  fig 
From  interlacing  branches  mix  their  hues 

nd  fcer.ts,  the  paffenger's  delight ;  but  leave 
In  the  mid-vale  a  pafture  long  and  large, 
Exuberant  in  vivid  verdure  cropped 
By  herds,byflocks  innum'rf  us.  >J eighb'ring  knolls 
Are  fpeckled  o'er  with  cots,  whofe  humble  roofs 
f  o  herdfmen,  fhepherds,  and  laborious  hinds 
Once  yielded  reft  unbroken,  till  the  name 
Of  Xertes  (hook  their  quiet.  Yet  this  day 
Was  feftive.  Swains  and  damfels,  youth  and  age, 
From  toil,  from  home  eilhrg'd,  difporting,  fill'd 
Th*  enliven'd  meadow.  Under  evy  feade 
A  hoary  minilrei  fat ;  the  maidens  danc'dj 


t,  E  0  N  I  D  A  S. 


Flocks  bleated;  oxenlow'd;  the  horfes  neigh'd ; 
With  joy  the  vale  rcfounded ;  terror  fled  ; 
Leonidas  was  nigh.  The  welcome  new* 
By  Meliboeus,  haft'ning  to  his  lord, 
Was  loudly  told.  The  Helots  too  appear'd. 
While  with  his  brdther  Alpheus  thus  difcours'd. 
-    In  this  fair  valley  old  Oileub  dwells, 
The  firft  of  Locrians,  of  Laconia's  ftate 
The  public  hoft.  Yon  large  pavilions  mark. 
They  promife  welcome.  Thither  let  us  bend, 
There  tell  our  tharge.   This  laid,  they  both  ad 
vance. 

A  hoary  band  receives  them.    One,  who  feem'd 
In  rank,  in  age  fuperior,  waV'd  his  hand 
To  Meliboeus,  (landing  near,  and  fpake. 

By  this  my  faithful  meflenger  I  learn, 
That  you  are  friends.  Nor  yet  th'  invader's  foot 
Hath  pafs'd  our  confines.  Elfe,  o'crcaft  by  time, 
My  fight  would  fcarce  diftinguifh  frieud  or  foe, 
A  Grecian  or  Barbarian.  Alpheus  then. 

We  come  from  Lacedemon,  of  our  king 
Leonidas  forerunners.  Is  he  nigh  ? 
The  cordial  fenior  tenderly  exclaims, 
J  am  O'ileus.  Him  a  beardlefs  boy 
I  knew  in  Lacedemon.  Twenty  years 
Are  fince  elaps'd.  He  fcarce  remembers  me. 
But  I  will  feaft  him,  as  becomes  my  zeal, 
Him  and  his  army.  You,  my  friends,  repofe. 

They  fit.  He  ftill  difcourfes.  Spartan  guefts, 
la  me  an  aged  foldier  you  behold. 
From  Ajax,  fam'd  in  Agamemnon's  war, 
Oilcan  Ajax  flows  my  vital  ttream, 
Unmix'd  with  his  prefumption.   I  have  borne 
The  higheft  functions  in  the  Locrian  ftate, 
Not  with  difhonour.  8eif-diimifs'd,  my  age 
Hath  in  this  valley  on  my  own  demefir 
Liv'd  tranquil,  not  reclufe.  My  comrades  theft, 
Old  magistrates  and  warriors  like  myfelf, 
Releas'd  from  public  care,  with  me  retir'd 
To  rural  quiet.  THrough  our  laft  remains 
Of  time  in  fweet  garrulity  we  flide, 
Recounting  paft  atchievements  of  our  prime ; 
Nor  wanting  lib'ral  means  far  lib'ral  a.  eds, 
Here  blefs'd,  here  bleffing  we  refide.  Thefe  flock- 
Thefe  herds   and  paftures,   thefe  our  num'rou- 

hinds, 

And  poverty,  hence  exil'd,  may  divulge 
Our  generous  abundance.  We  can  fpread 
A  banquet  for  an  army.  By  the  ftate 
Once  more  entreated,  we  accept  a  charge, 
To  age  weil-fuited.  By  our  watchful  care 
The  goddefs  Plenty  in  your  ten\s  {hall  dwell. 

He  fcarce  had  finifh'd,  vhen  the  enfigns  broad 
Of  Lacedernon's  phalanx  down -the  vale 
Were  feen  to  wave,  unfolding  at  the  found 
Of  flutes,  foft  warbling  in  th'  expreffive  mood 
Of  Dorian  fweetnefs  unadorn'd.  Around, 
In  notes  of  welcome  ev'ryfht-pherd  tun'd 
His  fprightly  reed.  The  damiel>  fhcw'd  their  hair, 
Diverfify'd  with  flow'rets.  Garlands  gay, 
Rufh-woven  baikets,  glowing  with  the  dye* 
Of  amaranths,  of  jafrnin,  rofes.  pinks 
'And  violets  they  carry,  tripping  light 
Before  the  fteps  of  giimly-featur'd  Alars 
To  blend  the  fmiles  of  Flora  virh  his  frown. 
Leonidas  they  chaunt  in  filvan  lays, 
Him  the  defender  of  th  •»-  nic-ios  ai/d  groves 
Kim,  more  than  Pan,  a  guardian  to  their  flock;. 


While  Philomela,  in  her  poplar  fiiade 

Awaken'd  (trains  her  emulating  throat, 

And  joins  with  liquid  trills  the  fwelHng  founds. 

Behold  Oileus  and  his  ancient  train 
Accoft  Laconia's  king,  whofe  looks  and  words 
Confefs  remembrance  of  the  Locrian  chief. 
Thrice  hail  !  Oileus,  Sparta's  noble  hoft. 
Thou  art  of  old  acquainted  with  her  fons, 
Their  laws,  their  manners.     Mufical  as  brave, 
Train'd  to  delight  in  fmooth  Terpander's  lay, 
In  Alcman's  Dorian  meaiure,  we  enjoy 
In  thy  melodious  vale  th'  unlabour'd  ftrains 
Of  rural  pipes,  to  nightingales  atrun'd. 
Our  heart-felt  gbdnefs  deems  the  golden  age 
Subfu'ting  where  thou  govern'ft.     Still  thefe  tone* 
Of  joy  continu'd  ;nay  thy  dwelling  hear  ! 
Still  may  this  plenty,  unmolefted,  crown 
The  favour'd  diftrict  1  May  thy  rev'rend  duft 
Have  peaceful  fheiter  in  thy  father's  tomb  '. 
K.ind  heav'n,  that  merit  to  my  fword  impart ! 

By  joy  uplifted,  forth  Oileus  broke. 
Thou  doll  recal  me  then  !     O  lent  to  guard 
Thefe  fruits  from  ipoil,  theie   hoary  locks  from 

fhame, 

'ermit  thy  weary'd  foldiers  to  partake 
>f  Locrian  pL-nty.     Enter  thou  my  tents, 
Thouand  thy  captains.     I  falute  them  all. 

The  hero  full  of  dignity  and  years, 
'nee  bold  in  action,  plac'd  now  in  eafe, 
!v'n  by  his  look,  benignly  caft  around, 
Gives  latitude  relief.     With  native  grace, 
•Vith  heart-eftus'd  complacency  the  king 
.rcepts  the  lib'ral  welcome,  while  his  troops, 
o  relaxation  and  repaft  difmifs'd, 
'  tch  on  the  wounded  green  their  briftled  f pears. 

Still  is  the  evening.     Under  chefnut  lhades 
•  Vith  interweaving  poplars  fpacious  ftands 
v  well-fram'd  tent.     There  calm  the  heroes  fit, 
'he  genial  board  enjoy,  and  feait  the  mind 
•ufage  difcourfe;  which  thus  Oileus  clos'd. 

Behold,  night  lifts  her  fignal  to  invoke 
.•hat  friendly  god,  who  owns  the  drowfy  wand. 
!  o  Mercury  this  laft  libation  flows, 
"arewell  till  morn.    They  feparate,  they  fleep 
Ml  but  Oileus,  who  frx-fakes  the  tent. 
On  Meliboeus,  in  thefe  words  he  calls. 
Approach  my  faithful  friend.     To  him  the  fwain. 
1  hy  bondman  hears  thy  call.     The  chief  replies, 
Loud  foi  the  gath'ring  peafantry  to  heed. 

Come,  Melibceus,  it  is  furely  time. 
That  my  repeated  gift,  the  name  of  friend 
i'hou  fliouldft  accept.     The  name  of  bondman 

wounds 

My  ear.     Be  free.     No  longer,  bed  of  men, 
Reject  that  boon,  nor  let  my  feeble  head, 
To  thee  a  debtor,  as  to  gracious  heaven, 
Defc-md  and  fleep  unthankful  in  the  grave. 
Though  yielding  nature  daily  feels  decay ; 
I'hou  doft  prevent  ail  care.     The  gods  eftrange 
Pain  from  my  pillow,  have  fecur'd  my  breaft 
From  weeds  too  oft  in  aged  foil  profufe. 
From  felf-tormenting  petulance  and  pride, 
From  jealoufy  and  envy  at  the  fame 
Of  younger  men.     Leonidas  will  dim 
My  former  luftre,  as  that  filver  orb 
O:''(li:nfs  the  nieaneH  ftar ;  and  I  rejoice. 
O  Melibceus,  thefe  elect  of  Jove 


THE   \v*ORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


494 

To  certain  death  advance.     Immortal  powers ! 
How  focial,  how  endearing  is  their  fpeech  ! 
How  flow  in  lib'ral  cheerfulnefs  their  hearts  '. 
To  fuch  a  period  verging  men  iike  theie 
Age  well  may  envy,  and  that  envy  take 
The  genuine  fhape  of  virtue.     Let  their  fpan 
Of  earthly  being,  while  it  lafts,  contain 
Each  earthly  joy.     Till  bleis'd  Elyfium  fpread 
Her  ever-blooming,  insxhaufted  ftores 
To  their  glad  fight,  be  mine  the  grateful  talk 
To  drain  my  plenty.     From  the  vaulted  caves 
Our  vefiels  large  of  well-fermented  wine, 
From  all  our  gran'ries  lift  the  treaiur'd  corn. 
Go,  load  the  groaning  axles.     Nor  forget 
With  garments  new  to  greet  Melilla's  nymphs. 
To  her  a  triple  change  of  veitments  bear 
With  twenty  lambs,  and  twenty  fpeckled  kids. 
Be  it  your  care,  my  peafanW,  fome  to  aid 
Him  your  director,  others  to  felect 
Five  hundred  oxen,  thrice  a  thoufand  fheep, 
Of  lufty  i'wains  a  thoufand.     Let  the  morn, 
When  firft  flie  blufhes,  fee  my  will  perform'd. 

They  heard.     Their  lord's  injunctions  to  fufil 
Was  their  ambition.     He,  unrelcing,  mounts 
A  ready  car.     The  couriers  had  enroll'd 
His  name  in  Ifthmian  and  Nemean  games. 
By  moonlight,  floating  on  the  fplendid  reins, 
He  o'er  the  buly  vale  intent  is  borne 
From  place  to  place,  o'erlooks,  diredls,  forgets 
That  he  is  old.     Meantime  the  (hades  of  night, 
Retiring,  wake  Dieneces.     He  gives 
The  word.     His  pupil  feconds.     Ev'ry  hand 
Is  arm'd.     Day  opens.     Sparta's  king  appears. 
O'ileus  greets  him.     In  his  radiant  car 
The  fenior  ftays  reluctant ;  but  his  gueft 
So  wills  in  Spartan  reverence  to  age. 
Then  fpake  the  Locrian.     To  affift  thy  camp 
A  chofen  band  of  peafants  I  detach. 
I  truft  thy  valour.     Doubt  not  thou  my  care, 
Nor  doubt  that  fwain.     Oileus,  fpeaking,  look'd 
On  Melibceus.     Skilful  he  commands 
Thefe  hinds.     Him  wife,    him    faithful  I  have 

prov'd 

More  than  Eumjeus  to  Laertes'  fon. 
To  him  th'  Oetzean  woods,  their  devious  tracks 
Are  known,  each  rill  and  fountain.     Near  the 

pafs 

Two  thoufand  Locrians  wilt  thou  find  encamp'd, 
My  eldeft  born  their  leader,  Meclon  nam'd, 
Well  exercis'd  in  arms.     My  daughter  dwells 
On  Oeta.     Sage  Melifla  (he  is  call'd, 
Enlighten'd  prieftefsof  the  tuneful  nine. 
She  haply  may  accoft  thee.     Thou  wilt  lend 
An  ear.     Not  fruitlefs  are  Melifla's  words. 
Now,  fervants,  bring  the  facred  wine.     Obey'd, 
He,  from  his  feat  uprifing,  thus  proceeds: 

Lo  !  from  this  chalice  a  libation  pure 
To  Mars,  to  Grecian  liberty  and  laws, 
To  their  protector,  eleutherian  Jove, 
To  his  nine  daughters,  who  record  the  brave, 
To  thy  renown,  Leonidas,  I  pour; 
And  take  an  old  man's  benediction  too. 

He  ftopp'd.     Affection,  ftruggling  in  his  heart, 
Burft  forth  again.     Illu/trious  gueft,  afford 
Another  hour.     That  (lender  (pace  of  time 
Yield  to  my  fole  pofl'eflion.     While  the  troops,  . 
Already  glut'ring  down  the  dewy  vale, 


File  through  its  narrow'd  outlet ;  near'my  ikte 
Deign  to  be  carry 'd,  and  my  talk  endure. 

The  king,  well  pleas'd,  alleuds.      Slow  move 

the  deeds 

Behind  the  rear.     Oileus  grafps  his  hand, 
Then  in  the  fulnefs  of  his  foul  piirfues. 

Thy  veneration  for  Laconia's  laws 
That  I  may  ftrengihen,  may  to  rapture  warm, 
Hear  me  difplay  the  melancholy  fruits 
Of  lavvlels  will.     When  o'er  the  Lydian  plains 
Th'  innumerable  tents  of  Xerxes  fpread, 
His  vaflal,  Pythiui,  who  in -affluent  means 
Surpailes  me,  as  that  Barbarian  prince 
Thou  doft  in  virtue,  entertain'd  the  hoft, 
And  proftcr'd  all  his  treafures.     Thefe  the  king 
Refilling,  ev'n  augmented  from  his  own. 
An  act  of  fancy,  not  habitual  grace, 
A  fparkling  vapour  through  the  regal  gloom 
Of  cruelty  and  pride.     He  now  prepar'd 
To  march  from  Sardis,  when  with  humble  tears 
The  good  old  man  befought  him.     Let  the  king 
Propitious  hear  a  parent.     In  thy  train 
I  have  (ive  fons.     Ah  !  leave  my  eldeft  born, 
Thy  future  vaflal,  to  fuftain  my  age  ! 
The  tyrant  feilreply'd  :  Prefamptuous  man, 
Who  art  my  flave,  in  this  tremendous  war, 
Is  not  my  perfon  hazarded,  my  race, 
My  confort  ?     Former  merit  faves  from  death 
Four  of  thy  offspring.     Him,  fo  dearly  priz'd, 
Thy  folly  hath  deftroy'd.     His  body  (traight 
Was  hewn  afunder.     By  the  public  way 
On  either  tide  a  bleeding  half  was  caft, 
And  millions  pafs'd  between.     O  Spartan  king. 
Taught  to  revere  the  fanctity  of  laws, 
The  acts  of  Xerxes  with  thine  own  compare, 
His  fame  With  thine.     The  curies  of  mankind 
Give  him  renown.     He  marches  to  deltroy, 
But  thou  to  lave.     Behold  the  trees  are  bent, 
Each  eminence  is  loaded  thick*  with  crowds, 
From  cots,  from  ev'ry  hamlet  pour'd  abroad, 
To  blefs  thy  fteps,  to  celebrate  thy  praife. 

Oft  times  the  king  his  decent  brow  mclin'd, 
Mute  and  obiequiousto  an  elder's  voice, 
Which  through  th'  inftructed  ear,  unceafing  flow'd 
In  eloquence  and  knowledge.     Scarce  an  hour 
Was  lied.     The  narrow  dale  was  left  behind. 
A  caufeway  broad  difclos'd  an  ancient  pile 
Of  military  fame.     A  trophy  large, 
Compact  with  crefted  morions,  targets  rude, 
With    fpears  and    corflets,    thmm'd    by   eating 

aSe> 

Stood  near  a  lake  pellucid,  fmooth,  profound, 
Of  circular  expanle,  whole  bofom  fhow'd 
A  green-flop'd  ifland,  figur'd  o'er  with  now'rs, 
And  from  its  centre  lifting  high  to  view 
A  marble  chapel,  on  the  mafly  ftrength 
Of  Doric  columns  rais'd.   A  full  wrought  freeze 
Difnlay'd  the  fculptor's  art.     In  folemn  pomp 
Of  obelifks  and  buits,  and  ftory'd  urns 
Sepulchral  manfions  of  illultrious  dead 
Were  (catttr'd  round,  o'ercalt  with  (hadows  black, 
Of  yew  and  cyprefs.     In  a  ferioub  note 
Oileus,  pointing,  opens  new  difcourie. 

Beneath  you  turf  my  anceltors  repofe. 
Oilcan  Ajax  fingly  was  depriv'd 
Of  mn'ral  honours  there.     With  impious  luft 
He  ftain'd  Minerva's  tetnpl*.    From  the  gul£ 


LEONID  AS. 


Of  briny  waters  by  their  god  preferv'd, 

Thar  god  he  brav'd.     He  lies  beneath  a  rock, 

By  Neptune's  trident  in  his  wrath  o'erturn'd. 

Shut  from  Elyfium  for  a  hundred  years, 

The  hero's  ghoft  bewail'd  his  oozy  tomb. 

A  race  more  pious  on  the  Oilcan  houfe 

Felicity  have  drawn.     To  ev'ry  god 

I  owe  ray  blifs,  my  early  fame  to  Pan. 

Once  on  the  margin  of  that  filent  pool 

In  their  t.'oclurnal  camp  Barbarians  lay, 

Awaiting  morn  to  violate  the  dead. 

My  youth  was  fir'd.     I  fummon'd  from  their  cots 

A  ruftic  hoft.     We  facrific'd  to  Pan, 

Aflail'd  th'  unguarded  ruffians  in  his  name. 

He  with  his  tenors  f:notc  their  yielding  hearts. 

Not  one  furviv'd  the  fury  of  our  fwains. 

Rich  was  the  pillage.     Hence  that  trophy  rofe ; 

Of  coftly  blocks  conftrucled,  hence  that  fane, 

Infcrib'd  to  Pan  th'  armipotent.     O  king, 

JBe  to  an  old  man's  vanity  benign. 

This  frowning  emblem  of  terrific  war 

Proclaims  the  ardour  and  exploits  of  youth. 

This  to  Barbarian  ftrangers,  ent'ring  Greece, 

Shows  what  I  was.      The   marble  fount   thou 

faw'ft. 

Of  living  water,  whofe  tranfparent  flow 
Reliev'd  thy  march  in  yefter  fultry  fun, 
The  cell,  which  offer'd  reft  on  beds  of  mofs 
Show  what  I  am,  to  Grecian  neighbour's  (how 
The  hofpitality  of  age.     O  age, 
Where  are  thy  graces,  but  in  lib'ral  deeds, 
In    bland    deportment  ?      Would    thy  furrow'd 

cheeks 

Lofe  the  deformity  of  time  ?     Let  fmiles 
Dwell  in  thy  wrinkles.     Then,  rever'd  by  youth, 

Thy  feeble  fteps  will  find Abruptly  here 

He  paus'd.     A  manly  warrior  full  in  fight 
Befide  the  trophy  on  his  target  lean'd, 
Unknown  to  Sparta's  leader,  who  addrefs'd 
His  rev'rend  hoft.     Thou  paufeft.     Let  me  afk, 
Whom  do  I  fee,  refembling  in  his  form 
A  demigod  ?     In  tranfport  then  the  fage. 

It  is  my  fon,  difcover'd  by  his  (hield, 
Thy  brave  auxiliar  Medon.     He  fuftains 
My  ancient  honours  in  his  native  ftate, 
Which  kindly  chofe  my  offspring  to  replace 
Their     long-fequefter'd    chief.       Heart-winning 

gueft  .' 

My  life,  a  tide  of  joy,  which  never  knew 
A  painful  ebb,  beyond  its  wonted  mark 
Flows  in  thy  converfe.     Could  a  wifli  prevail, 
My  long  and  happy  courfe  fhould  finifli  here. 

The  chariot  relted.     Medon  now  approach'd, 
Saluting  thus  Leonidas :    O  kinj 
Of  warlike  Sparta,  Xerxes'  hoft  in  fight 
Begin  to  fpread  their  multitude,  and  fill 
The  fpacious  Malian  plain.     The  king  replies  : 

Accept,  ttlultrious  mefienger,  my  thanks. 
With  fuch  a  brave  afliltant,  as  the  fon 
Of  great  Oileus,  more  afiur'd  I  go 
To  face  thofe  numbers.     With  this  godlike  friend 
The  father,  now  difmounting  from  his  car, 
Embraces  Medon.     In  a  fliding  bark 
They  all  are  wafted  to  the  ifland  lane, 
Erefted  by  OYleu\  and  enrich'd 
With    his  engrav'd  achievements.     Thence  the 
eye 


Of  Sparta's  grn'ral  in  attentive  fcope 
Contemplates  each  battalion,  as  they  wind 
Along  the  pool ;  whofe  limpid  face  reflects 
Their  weapons,  glift'ning  in  the  early  fun. 
Them  he  to  Pan  armipotent  commends, 
His  favour  thus  invoking.  God,  whofe  pow'r 
By  rumour  vain,  or  echo's  empty  veice 
Can  fink  the  valiant  in  defponding  fear, 
Can  difarray  whole  armies,  fmile  on  thefe, 
Thy  worfhippers.  Thy  own  Arcadians  guard. 
Through  thee  Oi'.eus  triumph'd.  On  his  fon, 
On  me  look  down.  Our  fhields  auxiliar  join 
Againft  profane  Barbarians,  who  infult 
The  Grecian  gods,  and  meditate  the  fall 
Of  this  thy  flirine.  He  faid,  and  now  intent 
To  leave  the  iflar.d,on  Oileus  call'd. 

He,  Medon  anfwer'd,  by  his  joy  and  zeal 
Too  high  tranfported,  and  difcourfing  long, 
Felt  on  his  drowfy  lids  a  balmy  down 
Of  heavinefs  defcending.  He,  unmark'd 
Amid  thy  pious  commerce  with  the  god, 
Was  filently  remov'd.  The  good  old  chief 
On  carpets,  rais'd  by  tender  menial  hands, 
Calm  in  the  fecret  fan&uary  is  laid. 

His  haft'ning  ftep  Leonidas  reftrains, 
Thus  fervent  prays  :  O  Maia's  fon,  beft  pleas'd, 
When  calling  flumber  to  a  virtuous  eye, 
Watch  o'er  my  venerable  friend.  Thy  balm 
He  wants,  exhaufted  by  his  love  to  me. 
Sweet  fleep,  thou  foft'neft  that  intruding  pang-, 
Which  gen'rous  breafts  fo  parting  muft  admit. 

He  faid,  embark'd,  relanded.  To  his  fide 
Inviting  Medon,  he  rejoin'd  the  hoft. 

BOOK  III. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

LEONIDAS  arrives  at  Thermopylae  about  noon  on 
the  fourth  day  of  his  departure  from  the  Iflhmus. 
He  is  received  by  Demophilus,  the  commander 
of  Thefpia,  and  by  Anajyinder  the  Theban, 
treacheroufly  recommending  Epialtes,  a  Malian, 
who  feeks,  by  a  pompous  defcription  of  the 
Perfian  power,  to  intimidate  the  Grecian  lead 
ers,  as  they  are  viewing  the  enemy's  camp  from 
the  top  of  mount  Oeta.  He  is  anfwered  by  Di- 
eneces  and  Diomedon.  Xerxes  fends  Tygrane* 
and  Fhraortes  to  the  Grecian  camp,  who  are 
difmifled  by  Leonidas,  and  conducted  back  by 
Dithyrambus  and  Diomedon;  which  laft,  in- 
cenfed  at  the  arrogance  of  Tygranes,  treats  him 
•with  contempt  and  menaces.  This  occafions  a 
challenge  to  finglc  combat  between  Diomedon 
and  Tygranes,  Dithyrambus  and  Phraortes  E- 
pialtes  after  a  conference  with  Anaxander  de 
clares  his  intention  of  returning  to  Xerxes.  Le 
onidas  difpatches  Agis  with  Meliboeus,  a  faith 
ful  flave  of  Oileus,  and  high  in  the  eftimation  of 
his  lord,  to  view  a  body  of  Phocians,  who  had 
been  pofted  at  »  diftance  from  Thermopylx  for 
the  defence  of  anothe^pafs  in  mount  Oeta. 

Now  in  the  van  Leonidas  appears, 
With  Medon  ftill  conferring.    Haft  thou  heard, 
He  faid,  among  th'  innumerable  foes  f  truft 

What  chiefs  are  moft  diflinguifh'd?   Might  we 
To  fame,  reply'd  the  Locrian.  Xerxes  boaih 
His  ableft,  braved  counfellor  and  chief 
In  Artemifia,  Caria's  matchlefs  queen. 
To  old  Darius  benefits  had  bound 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


Her  lorfl,  herfelf  to  Xerxes.  Not  compell'd, 
Except  by  magnanimity,  fhe  leads 

ojfl  appointed  fquadron  in  his  fleet. 
No  female  foftneis  Artemifia  knows, 
JB  r  in  maternal  love.  Her  widow'd  hand 
With  equity  and  firmncfs  for  her  fon 
Adminilters  the  fway.  Of  Doric  race 
She  ftill  retains  the  fpirit,  which  from  Greece 
Heranccftors  transplanted.  Other  chiefs 
Are  all  Barbarians,  little  known  to  fame, 
Save  one,  whom  Sparta  hath  herfelf  fupply'd, 
Not  lefs  than  Demaratus,  once  her  king, 
An  exile  now.  JLecnidas  rejoins. 

Son  of  Otlens,  like  thy  father  wife, 
Like  him  partake  my  confidence.  Thy  words 
Recal  an  era,  fadd'ning  all  my  thoughts. 
That  injur'd  Spartan  fhar'd  the  regal  fway 
With  one — Alas !  my  brother,  eldeft  born, 
Unblefs'd  by  nature,  favour' d  by  no  god, 
Cleomenes.  Infaniiy  of  mind, 
Malignant  paffions,  impious  acts  deform'd 
A  life,  concluded  by  his  «wn  fell  hand. 
Againft  his  colleague  envious  he  fuborn'd 
Leutychides.  Him  perjury  and  fraud 
Plac'd  on  the  feat,  by  Demaratus  held 
Unftain'd  in  luftre.  Here  Oileus'  fon. 

My  future  fervice  only  can  repay 
Thy  confidential  friendfhip.  Let  us  clofe 
The  gloomy  theme.  Thermopylae  is  nigh. 
Each  face  in  tranfport  glows.  Now  Oeta  rear'd 
His  tow'ring  forehead.  With  impatient  fteps 
On  rufh'd  the  phalanx,  founding  paeans  high ; 
As  if  the  prefent  deity  of  fame 
Had  from  the  fummit  fhown  her  dazzling  form, 
With  wreaths  unfading  on  her  temples  bound, 
Her  adamantine  trumpet  in  her  hand 
To  celebrate  their  valour.  From  the  van 
Leonidas  advances  like  the  fun, 
When  through  dividing  clouds  his  prefence  flays 
Their  fweeping  rack,   and    ftills    the  clam'rous 

wind. 

The  army  filent  halt.  Their  enfigns  fan 
The  air  no  longer.  Motionlefs  their  fpears. 
His  eye  reveals  the  ardour  of  his  foul, 
Which  thus  finds  utt'rance  from  his  eager  lips. 

All  hail !  Thermopylae,  and  you,  the  pow'rs, 
Prefiding  here.  All  hail !  ye  fylvan  gods, 
Ye  fountain  nymphs,  who  fend  your  lucid  rills 
In  broken  murmurs  down  the  ruggid  fteep. 
Receive  us,  O  benignant,  and  fupport 
The  caufe  of  Greece.  Conceal  the  fecret  paths, 
Which  o'er  thefc  crags,  and  through  their  forefts 

wind, 

TJntrod  by  human  feet,  and  trac'd  alone 
By  your  immortal  footfteps.  O  defend 
Your  own  recefles,  nor  let  impious  war 
Profane  the  folemn  filence  of  your  groves. 
Then  on  your  hills  your  praifes  fhafl  you  hear 
From  thofe,  whofe  deeds  fhall  tell  th'  approving 

world, 

That  not  to  undefervers  did  ye  grant 
Your  high  protection.  You,  my  valiant  friends, 
Now  roufe  the  gen'rous  fpirit,  which  inflames 
Yoar  hearts;  exert  the  vigour  of  your  arms: 
That  in  the  bofoms  of  the  brave  and  free 
Your  memorable  actions  may  furvive  ; 
May  found  delightful  in  the  ear  of  time, 
Long,  as  blue  Neptune  beats  the  Malian  ftrand, 


Or  thofe  tall  cliffs  erect  their  fcaggy  tops 
So  near  to  heav'n,  your  monuments  of  fame. 

As  in  fome  torrid  region,  where  the  head 
Of  Ceres  bends  beneath  her  golden  load ; 
If  from  a  burning  brand  a  fcatter'd  fpark 
Invade  the  parching  ground  ;  a  fudden  blaze 
Sweeps  o'er  the  crackling  champai&e :  through  his 

hoft 

Not  with  lefs  fwiftnefs  to  the  furthefl  ranks 
The  words  of  great  Leonidas  diffus'd 
A  more  than  mortal  fervour.  Ev'ry  heart 
Diftends  with  thoughts  of  glory,  fuch  as  raife 
The  patriot's  virtue,  and  the  foldier's  fire  ; 
When  danger  mofl  tremendous  in  his  form 
Seerns  in  their  fight  moft  lovely.  On  their  minds 
Imagination  pictures  all  the  fcenes 
Of  war,  the  purple  field,  the  heaps  of  death, 
The  glitt'ring  trophy,  pil'd  with  Perfian  arms. 

But  lo  !  the  Grecian  leaders,  who  before 
Were  ftation'd  near  Thermopylae,  falute 
Laconia's  king.  The  Thefpian  chief,  ally'd 
To  Dithyrambus,  firft  the  filence  breaks, 
An  ancient  warrior.  From  behind  his  cafque, 
Whofe  crefted  weight  his  aged  temples  bore, 
The  flender  hairs,  all-filver'd  o'er  by  time, 
Flow'd  venerable  down.  He  thus  beran  : 

Joy  now  fhall  crown  the  period  of  my  days ; 
And  whether  nigh  my  father's  urn  I  fleep ; 
Or,  flain  by  Perua's  fword,  embrace  the  earth, 
Our  common  parent ;  be  it  as  the  gods 
Shall  beft  determine.  For  the  prefent  hour 
I  blefs  their  bounty,  which  hath  giv'n  my  age 
To  fee  the  brave  Leonidas,  and  bid 
That  hero  welcome  on  this  glorious  fhore, 
To  fix  the  bafis  of  the  Grecian  weal. 

Here  too  the  crafty  Anaxander  fpake. 
Of  all  the  Thebans,  we,  rejoicing,  hail 
The  king  of  Sparta.  We  obey'd  his  call. 
O  may  oblivion  o'er  the  fhame  of  Thebes 
A  dark'ning  veil  extend !  or  thofe  alone 
By  fame  be  curs'd,  whofe  impious  counfels  turn 
Their  countrymen  from  virtue  !  Thebes  was  funk, 
Her  glory  bury'd  in  difhoneft  floth. 
To  wake  her  languor  gen'rous  Alphzus  came, 
The  meffenger  of  freedom.  O  accept 
Our  grateful  hearts,  thou,  Alpheus,  art  the  caufe, 
That  Anaxander  from  his  native  gates 
Not  fingle  joins  this  hoft,  nor  tamely  thefe, 
My  chofen  friends  behind  their  walls  remain. 
Enough  of  words.  Time  prefles.  Mount,  ye  chiefs, 
This  loftieft  part  of  Oeta.  This  o'erlook* 
The  ftreights,   and  far  beyond  their  northern 

mouth 

Extends  our  fight  acrofs  the  Malian  plain. 
Behold  a  native,  Epialtes  call'd, 
Who  with  the  foe  from  Thracia's  bounds  hath 
march'd. 

Difguis'd  in  feeming  worth,  he  ended  here. 
The  camp  not  long  had  Epialtes  reach'd, 
By  race  a  Malian.  Eloquent  his  tongue, 
His  heart  was  falfe  and  abject.  He  was  fkill'd 
To  grace  perfidious  counfels,  and  to  clothe 
In  f welling  phrafe  the  bafeuefs  of  his  foul, 
Foul  nurfe  of  treafons.  To  the  tents  of  Greece, 
Himfelf  a  Greek,  a  faithlefs  fpy  he  came. 
Soon  to  the  friends  of  Xerxes  he  rcpair'd, 
The  Theban  chiefs,  and  nightly  councils  held 
How  to  betray  the 'Spartans,  or  deject 


L  £  d  N  i  n  A  ?. 


497 


liv  conftcrnation.  Up  rhc  arc]uouc 
With  him  each  leader  to  the  fummir  climbs. 
Thence  a  tremendous  profpeft  they  command, 
"Where  en-.llefs  plains,  by  white  pavilions  hid, 
.Spread  like  the  vafl  Atlantic,  when  no  fhore, 
\  No  rock,  110  promontory  flops  the  fign:: 
Unbounded,  as  it  wanders;  while  tlie  moon, 
Refplendent  eye  of  night,  in  nttleft  orb 
•Surveys  th'  interminatje  expanfe,  and  throws 
Her  rays  abroad  to  deck  in  fnowy  light 
The  dancing  billows.  Such  was  Xerxes'  camp  ; 
A  pow'r  uniivall'd  by  the  mighticil  king, 
Or  fiercefl  conqu'ror,  whofe  blood-thirfty  pride, 
LXifiblving  all  the  far  red  ties  whicli  bind 
The  happinefs  of  nations,  hath  upcall'd 
The  flecping  fury,  DifcorJ,  from  her  den. 
Not  from  the  hundred  brazen  gate?  of  Thebes, 
The  tow'rs  of  Memphis,  and  thofe  pregnant  fields, 
Enrich'd  by  kindly  Nile,  fuch  armies  iwarm'd 
Around  Sefoftris ;  who  with  trophies  fill'd 
The  vanquifh'd  eaft,  who  o'er  the  rapid  foami 
Of  diflant  Tanais,  o'er  the  furface  broad 
Of  Ganges  fent  his  formidable  name. 
Nor  yet  in  Ada's  far  extended  bounds 
E'er  met  fuch  numbers,  not  when  Ninus  led 
Th'  Afiyrian  race  to'conqueft.  Not  the  gates 
Of  Babylon  along  Euphrates  pour'd 
Such  myriads  arm'd;    when,   emptying  all   her 

ftreets. 

The  rage  of  dire  Semiramis  they  bore 
Beyond  the  Indus;  there  defeated,  kit 
His  blood-ftain'd  current  turbid  with  their  dead. 

Yet  of  t.he  chiefs,  contemplating  this  fcene, 
Not  one  is  fhaken.  Undifmay'd  they  fland  ; 
Th'  immeafurable  camp  with  fearlefs  eyes 
They  traverfe:  while  in  meditation  near 
The  treaih'rous  Malian  waits,  colle&ing  all 
His  pomp  of  words  to  paint  the  hoftile  pow'r ; 
Nor  yet  with  falfehood  arms  his  fraudful  tongue 
To  feign  a  tale  of  terror.  Truth  hcrfelf 
Beyond  the  reach  of  fidtion  to  enhance 
NOW  aids  his  treafon,  and  with  cold  difmay 
Might  pierce  the  boldeft  heart,  unleis  fecur'd 
By  dauntlefs  virtue,  which  difdains  to  live, 
From  liberty  divorc'd.  Requefh.d  foon, 
He  breaks  his  artful  fiience.  Greeks  and  friends, 
Can  I  behold  my  native  Malian  fields, 
Prefenting  hoitile  millions  to  your  fight, 
And  not  in  grief  iupprefs  the  horrid  tale, 
Which  you  exacl:  from  thefe  ill-omen'd  lips. 
On  Thracia's  fea-bea!t  verge  I  watch'd  the  foes-; 
Where,  joining  Europe  to  the  Afian  flrand, 
A  mighty  bridge  reftrain'd  th'  outrageous  waves, 
And  Itemm'd  th'  impetuous  current :    while  in 

arms 

The  univcrfal  progeny  of  men 
Seem'd  trampling  o'er  die  fubjugatcd  flood 
By  thoufands,  by  ten  thoufands.  Perfians,  Medes, 
AfTyrians,  Saces,  Indians,  fwarthy  files 
From  Ethiopia,  Egypt's  tawny  fons, 
Arabians,  Badlrian*,  Partliians,  all  the  flrength 
Of  Afia,  and  of  Libya.     Neptune  groan'd 
Beneath  their  number,  and  indignant  heav'd 
His  neck  againil  th'  incumbent  weight.  In  vain 
The  violence  of  Eurus  and  the  north, 
With  rage  combin'd,  againft  th'  unyielding  pile 
Dafh'd  half  the  Hellelpont.  The  eaftern  world 
Scv'n  days  and  nights  unintem:ptcJ  pals 
Vot.  XI. 


To  cov:-r  Thrriv-Ia's  rrjrions.  They  accept 

A  Perfian  lord.  They  range  their  hardy  race 

lieneath  his  ftandards.  Macedonia's  youth, 

The  brave  Thefl'alian  horfe  with  ev'ry  Greek, 

Who  dwells  beyond  Thermopylae,  attend, 

Afiift  a  foreign  tyrant.  Sire  of  gads 

Wiio  in  a  moment  by  thy  will  fjjpreme 

Canfi  quell  the  mighty  in  their  proudeft  hopes, 

Canft  raife  the  weak  to  fafcty,  Oh  !  impart 

Thy  inrtant  fucc'our  !   Inttrpofe  thy  arm  ! 

With iighrningbhft their ftandards!  Oh!  confound 

With  triple-bolted  thunder  Afia's  tents, 

Whence  ruining  millions  by  the  mom  will  pour 

An  inundation  to  o'erwhelm  the  Greeks. 

Refiflance  elfe  were  vain  againft  a  hoft, 

Which  «verfpreads  Theffalia.     Ear  beyond 

That  Maliaii  champain,  ftretching  wide  below, 

Beyond  the  Htrrioft  meafure  of  the  fight 

From  this.afpiring  cliff,  the  hoflile  camp 

Contains  yet  mightier  numbers;  who  have  drain1  fit 

The  beds  of  copious  rivers  with  their  thirft, 

Who  with  their  arrows  hide  the  mid-day  fun. 

Then  we  fhail  give  them  battle  in  the  ihade, 
Dieneces  reply'd.  Not  calmly  thus 
D:orrted?>n.    On  PerRa's  camp  he  bent  fo'er,  - 

His  low'ring  brow,  which  frowns  had  turrow  «J 
Then  fierce  exclaim'd.    Bellona,  turn  and  view 
With  joyful  eyes  that  field,  the  fatal  flage, 
By  regal  madnefs  for  thy  rage  prepai'd 
To  exercifc  its  horrors.   Whet  thy  teeth, 
Voracious  death.  All  Afia  is  thy  prey. 
Contagion,  famine,  and  the  Grecian  fvvord, 
For  thy  infa'tiate  hunger  will  provide 
Variety  of  carnage.    He  concludes; 
While  on  the  hoft  immenfe  his  cloudy  brow 
Is  fix'd  difdaiiiful,  and  their  ftrength  defies. 

Mermtifne  an  eaflern  h'erald  down  the  pafs 
Was  feen,  flow-m'oving  tow'rds  the  Photiau  wall 
From  Afia's  monarch  delegated,  came 
Tigranes  and  Phraortes.  From  the  hrll 
J.eonidas  condufts  th'  impatient  chiefs. 
By  them  environ'd,  in  his  tent  he  fits; 
Where  thus  Tigranes  their  attention  calls. 

Ambaffadors  from  Perfia's  king  we  ftand 
Before  you,  Grecians.    To  difplay  tlie  pow'r 
Of  our  great  mailer  were  a  needkfs  tafk. 
The  name  of  Xerxes,  Afia's  m.ighty  luoi  d, 
Invincible,  exalted  on  a  throne, 
Surpading  human  luftre,  muft  have  reach'd 
To  ev'ry  clime,  and  ev'ry  heart  imprei-s'd 
With  awe,  and  low  fubmiffion.  Yet  I  fwear 
By  yon  refulgent  Orb,'  which  flames-above, 
The  gloriousfymbol  of  eternal  pow'r, 
This -military  throng,  this  fhow  of  war 
Well  aighperfuade  me,  you  have  never  heard 
That   name,    at   whofe   Commanding  found   thf 

banks 

Of  Indus  tremble,  and  the  Cafpian  wave, 
Th'  Egyptian  flood,  the  Hellefpontic  furge 
Obedient  roll.    O  impotent  and  rafh  ! 
Whom  yet  the  large  beneficence  ol  heav'n, 
And  heav'nly  Xerxes,  merciful  and  kind, 
Deign  to  prefer ve.    Refign  your  arms.    Difperfe 
All  to  your  cities.  There  let  hurnblell  hands 
With  earth  and  water  greet  your  dellin'd  lord. 

As  through   th'  cxtenfive  grove,   whofe  leaff 

boughs, 

Entwining,  crown  fonje  eminence  T.'itjj  {hade, 
I  i 


49* 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


The  tempefts  rufh  fonorous,  and  between 
The  crailiing  branches  roar  ;  by  fierce  difdain, 
By  indignation,  thus  the  Grecians  rous'd, 
In  loudeft  clamour.clole  the  Ptrfian's  fpeech : 
But  ev'ry  tongue  was  hufli'd,whcn  Sparta's  king 
This  brief  reply  deliver'd  from  his  feat. 
'    O  Perfian  !  when  to  Xerxes  thou  returned, 
£ay,  thou  haft  told  the  wonders  of  his  pow'r. 
Then  fuy,  thou  law 'ft  a  flcnder  band  of  Greece, 
"Which  dares  his  boafted  millions  to  the  field. 

He  adds  no  more.    Th'  ambaffadors  retire. 
Them  o'er  the  limits  of  the  Grecian  lines 
Diomedon  and  Thefpia's  youth  conduct. 
In  flow  folemnity  they  all  proceed, 
And  fullen  filence ;  but  their  looks  denote 
Far  more  than  fpeech  could  utter.    Wrath  con 
tracts 

The  forehead  of  Diomedon.    His  teeth 
Gnafla  with  impatience  of  delay'd  revenge. 
Difdain,    which    fprung    from    confcious   merit, 

flufh'd 

The  cheek  of  Dithyrambus.  On  the  face 
Of  either  Perfian  arrogance,  incens'd 
By  difappointment,  lour'd.    The  utmoft  ftreight 
They  now  attain'd,  which  open'd  t»  the  tents 
Of  Afia,  there  difcov'ring  wide  to  view 
Her  deep,  hnmenfe  arrangement.  Then  the  heart 
Of  vain  Tigranes,  fwelling  at  the  fight, 
Thus  overflows  in  loud  and  haughty  phrafe. 

O  Arimanius !  origin  of  ill, 
Have  we  demanded  of  thy  ruthlefs  pow'r 
Thus  with  the  curie  of  madneis  to  afflict 
Thefe  wretched  men  ?  But  fince  thy  dreadful  ire 
To  irrefiftible  perdition  dooms 
The  Grecian  race,  we  vainly  fhould  oppofe. 
Be  thy  dire  will  accomplifli'd.     Let  them  fall, 
Their  native  foil  be  fatten'd  with  their  blood. 

Enrag'd,  the  ftern  Diomedon  replies. 
Thou  bafe  dependent  on  a  lawlefs  king, 
Thou  purple  flave,  thou  boafler,  dofl.  thou  know, 
That  I  beheld  the  Marathonian  field  ? 
Where,  like  the  Libyan  lands  before  the  wind, 
Your  hoft  was  fcatter'd  by  Athenian  fpears ; 
Where  thou,  perhaps,  by  ignominious  flight 
Didil  from  this  arm  protect  thy  fhiv'ring  limbs. 
O  let  me  find  thee  in  to-morrow's  fight ! 
Along  this  rocky  pavement  fhalt  thou  lie, 
To  dogs  a  banquet.  With  uplifted  palms 
Tigranes  then.    Omnipotent  fupport 
Of  fcepter'd  Xerxes,  Horomazes,  hear  ! 
To  thee  his  firit  victorious  fruits  of  war 
Thy  worfhipper  devotes,  the  gory  fpoils, 
Which  from  this  Grecian,  by  the  riting  dawn, 
In  fight  of  either  hoft  my  ftrcngth  fhall  rend. 

At  length  Phraortes,  interpoiing,  fpake. 
J  too  would  find  among  the  Grecian  chiefs 
One,  who  in  battle  dares  abide  my  lance. 

The  gallant  youth  of  Thefpia  fwift  reply "d. 
Thou  look'ft  on  me,  O  Ferfian.  Worthier  far 
Thou  might  have  fingled  from  the  ranks  of  Greece, 
Not  one  more  willing  to  effay  thy  force. 
Yes,  I  will  prove  before  the  eye  of  Mars, 
How  far  the  prowafs  of  her  meaneft  chief 
Beyond  thy  vaunts  defer  ves  the  palm  of  fame. 

This  faid,  the  Perfians  to  their  king  repair, 
Sack  to  their  camp  the  Grecians.    There  they  find 
£ach  foldier,  poifing  his  extended  fpear, 
His  .weighty  buckler  bracing  on  hi»  arm 


In  warlike  preparation.    Through  the  files 
Each  leader,  moving  vigilant,  by  praife, 
By  exhortation  aids  their  native  warmth. 
Alone  the  Theban  Anaxander  pin'd, 
Who  thus  apart  his  Malian  friend  befpake. 

What  has  thy  lofty  eloquence  avail'd, 
Alas  !  in  vain  attempting  to  confound 
The  Spartan  valsur?  With  redoubled  fires, 
See,  Low  their  bofoms  glow.   They  wifh  to  die  ; 
They  wait  impatient  for  th'  unequal  fight. 
Too  foon  th'  infuperable  foes  will  fpread 
Primlfcuous  havoc  round,  and  Thebans  fnare 
The  doom  of  Spartans.  Through  the  guarded  pafs- 
Who  will  adventure  Afia's  camp  to  reach 
In  our  behalf  ?    That  Xerxes  may  be  warn'd 
To  fpare  his  friends  amid  the  gen'ral  wreck ; 
When  his  high-fwoln  refentment,  like  a  flood, 
Increas'd  by  ftormy  fhow'rs,  fhall  cover  Greece 
With  defolation.    Epialtes  here. 

Whence,  Anaxander,  thisunjuft  defpair  ? 
Is  there  a  path  on  Oeta's  hills  unknown 
To  Epialtes  ?  Over  tracklcfs  rocks, 
Through  mazy  woods  my  fecret  fleps  can  pafs. 
Farewell.    I  go.    Thy  merit  fhall  be  told 
To  Perfia's king.    Thou  only  watch  the  hour; 
When  wanted  moft,  thy  ready  fuccour  lend. 

Meantime  a  wary,  comprehenfive  care 
To  ev'ry  part  Leonidas  extends ; 
As  in  the  human  frame  through  ev'ry  vein, 
And  artery  minute,  the  ruling  heart 
Its  vital  pow'rs  difperfes.    In  his  tent 
The  prudent  chief  of  Locris  he  confults ; 
He  fummons  Melibceus  by  the  voice     . 
Of  Agis.    In  humility  not  mean, 
By  no  unfeemly  ignorance  deprefs'd, 
Th'  ingenuous  fvvain,  by  all  th  illuftrious  houfe 
Of  Ajax  honour'd,  bows  before  the  king, 
Who  gracious  fpake.    The  confidence  beftow'd, 
The  praife  by  fage  Oileus  might  fuffice 
To  verify  thy  worth.    MyfeS'have  watch'd, 
Have  found  thee  ikilful,  active,  and  difcreet. 
Thou  know  "ft  the  region  round.  With  Agis  go, 
The  upper  ftreights,  the  Phocian  camp  explore. 

O  condefcenfion  !  Meliboeus  then, 
More  ornamental  to  the  great,  than  gems, 
A  purple  robe,  or  diadem.    The  king 
Accepts  my  fervice.    Pleafing  is  my  talk. 
Spare  not  thy  fervant.    Exercife  my  zeal. 
G'i'.eus  will  rejoice,  and  fmiling,  fay, 
An  humble  hand  may  fmooth  a  hero's  path. 

He  leads  the  way,  while  Agis  following,  fpake. 
O  fwain !  diftiuguifn'd  by  a  lib'ral  mind, 
Who  were  thy  parents  ?  Where  thy  place  of  birth  ? 
What  chance  depriv'd  thee  of  a  father's  houfe? 
Cileus  fure  thy  liberty  would  grant, 
Or  Sparta's  king  folicit  for  that  grace  ; 
When  in  a  ftation  equal  to  thy  worth 
Thou  niay'ft  be  rank'd.    The  prudent  hind  began. 

In  diff 'rent  nations  diff'rent  virtues  dwell, 
All  reaping  diff'rent  benefits.    The  great 
In  dignity  and  honours  meet  reward 
For  acts  of  bounty,  and  heroic  toils. 
A  fervant's  merit  is  obedience,  truth, 
Fidelity ;  his  recompenfe  content. 
Be  not  offended  at  my  words,  O  chief! 
They,  who  are  free,  with  envy  may  behold 
This  bondman  of  Ck'leus.    To  his  truft, 
His  love  exalted,  I  by  nature's  pow'r 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


Frorri  his  pure  model  could  Ant  fail  to  mould 
What — thou  entitled  lib'ral.  Whence  I  came, 
Or  who  my  parents,  is  to  me  unknown. 
In  childhood  feiz'd  by  robbers,  I  was  fold. 
They  took  their  price.    They  hufh'd  th'  atrocious 

deed. 

Dear  to  Oileus  and  his  race  I  throve ; 
And  whether  noble,  or  ignoble  born, 
I  am  contented,  ftudious  of  their  love 
Alone.  Ye  fons  of  Sparta,  I  admire 
Your  a<5b,  your  fpirit,  but  confine  my  own 
To  their  condition,  happy  in  my  lord, 
Himfelf  of  men  moft  happy.    Agis  bland 
Rejoins.  O  !  born  with  talents  to  become 
A  lot  more  noble,  which,  by  thee  refus'd, 
Thou  dofl  the  more  defcrve.    Lacdnia's  king 
Difcerns  thy  merit  through  its  modcft  veil. 
Confummate  prudence  in  thy  words  1  hear. 
Long  may  contentment,  juftly  priz'd,  be  thine. 
But  fhould  the  ftate  demand  thee,  I  forefee, 
Thou  wouldft  like  others  in  the  field  excel, 
\Voitldft  ftiare  in  glory.  Blithe  return'd  the  fwain. 

Not  ev'ry  iervice  is  confin'd  to  arms. 
Thou  (ha.lt  behold  me  in  my  prefent  ftate 
Not  ufelefs.    If  the  charge  Oileus  gave 
1  can  accomplish,  meriting  his  praife, 
And  thy  efteem,  my  glory  will  be  full. 

Both  pleas'd  in  converfe,  thus  purfue  their  way, 
Where  Oeta  lilts  her  fummits  huge  to  hcav'n 
In  rocks  abrupt,  pyramidal,  or  tower'd 
Like  caftles.    Sudden  from  a  tufted  crag, 
Where  goats  are  browfing,  Meliboeus  hears 
A  call  of  welcome.  There  his  courfe  he  flays. 

BOOK  IV. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

TJgranes  and  Phraortes  repair  to  Xerxes,  whom 
they  find  feated  on  a  throne,  furrounded  by  his 
Satraps  in  a  magnificent  pavilion ;  while  the 
Magi  ftand  before  him,  and  firig  a  hymn,  con 
taining  the  religion  of  Zoroaftres.  Xerxes,  not- 
withftanding  the  arguments  of  his  brothers,  Hy- 
peranthes  and  Abrocomes,  gives  no  credit  to  the 
ambafladors,  who  report,  that  the  Grecians  are 
determined  to  maintain  the  pafs  againft  him; 
but  by  the  advice  of  Artemifia,  the  queen  of 
Cafia,  afcends  his  chariot  to  take  a  view  of  the 
Grecians  himfelf,  and  commands  Demaratus,  an 
exiled  king  of  Sparta,  to  attend  him.  He  pafies 
through  the  niidfl  of  his  army,  ccnfifling  of 
many  nations,  differing  in  arms,  cuftoms  and 
manners.  He  advances  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Ilreights,  and,  furpris'd  at  the  behaviour  of  the 
Spartans*  demands  the  reafon  of  it  from  Dema- 
ratus ;  which  occafions  a  converfation  between 
them  on  the  mercenary  forces- of  Perfia.and  the 
militia  of  Greece.  Demaratus,  weeping  at  the 
fight  of  his  countrymen,  is  comforted  by  Hype- 
ranthes.  Xerxes,  ftill  incredulous,  commands 
Tigranes  and  Phraortes  to  bring  the  Grecians 
bound  before  him  the  next  day,  and  retires  to 
his  pavilion.  Artemifia  remains  behiud  with 
her  fon,  and  communicates  to  Hyperanthes  her 
apprehenfions  of  a  defeat  at  Thermopyl.-E.  She 
takes  an  accurate  view  of  the  pafs,  choofes  a  con 
venient  place  for  an  ambufcade,  and  her  depar 
ture  to  the  Perfian  comp  is  furprifed  by  a  reproof 


499 


froni  a  woman  of  an  awful  appearance  on  a  cliff 
of  mount  Oeta. 

THE  plain  beyond  Thcrmopyl.-e  is  girt 
Half  round  by  mountains,  half  by  Neptune  lav'd. 
The  arduous  ridge  is  broken  deep  in  clefts, 
Which  open  channels  to  pellucid  ftreams 
In  rapid  flow  fonorous.     Chief  in  fame 
Spercheos,  boafting  once  his  poplars  tall, 
Foams  down  a  ftony  bed.     Throughout  the  faec 
Of  this  broad  champain  numberlels  are  pitch'd 
Barbarian  tents.     Along  the  winding  flood 
To  rich  Thcffalia's  confines  they  extend. 
They  fill  the  valiies,  late  profufely  blefs'd 
In  nature's  vary'd  beauties.     Hofiiie  fpears 
Now  brifUe  horrid  through  her  languid  flirubs. 
Pale  die  her  flowrets  under  barb'rous  feet. 
Embracing  ivy  from  its  rock  is  torn. 
The  lawn,  dilmantlcd  of  its  verdure,  fades. 
The  poplar  groves,  Uprooted  from  the  banks', 
Leave  defolate  the  fheam.     Elab'rate  domes, 
To  heav'n  devoted  in  receffes  preen, 
Had  felt  rude  force,  infenfible  and  blind 
To  elegance  and  art.     The  ftatues,  buds, 
The  figur'd  vafes,  mutilated  lie 
With  chifell'd  columns,  their  engraven  freeze^ 
Their  architrave  and  cornice,  all  disjoined. 

Yet  unpolluted  is  a  part  referv'd 
In  this  deep  vale,  a  patrimonial  ipot 
Of  Aleuadian  princes,  who,  allies 
To  Xerxes,  reign'd  in  Theflaly.     There  glow 
Inviolate  the  fhrubs.     There  branch  the  trees, 
Sons  of  the  foreft.     Over  downy  mofs 
Smooth  walks  and  fragrant,  lucid  here  and  broad, 
There  clos'd  in  myrtle  under  woodbine  roofs, 
Wind  to  retreats  deleftable,  to  grots, 
To  filvan  ftrudures,  bovv'rs,  and  cooling  dells,  ' 
Enliven'd  all  and  mufical  with  birds 
Of  vocal  fweetnefs,  in  relucent  plumes 
Innumerably  various.     Lulling  falls 
Of  liquid  cryftal  from  perennial  founts 
Attune  their  pekbled  channels.    Here  the  queen, 
The  noble  dames  of  Perfia,  here  the  train 
Of  royal  infants,  each  with  eunuch  guards, 
In  rich  pavilions,  dazzling  to  the  fight, 
Poffefs'd,  remote  from  onfet  and  furprife, 
A  tranquil  ftation.     Ariana  here, 
Ill-deftin'd  princefs,  from  Darius  fprnng, 
Hangs,  undelighted,  o'er  melodious  rills 
Her  drooping  forehead.    Love-affli&ed  fair ! 
All  inharmonious  are  the  feather'd  choirs 
To  her  fad  ear.    From  flow'rs,  and  florid  plants 
To  her  the  breezes,  wafting  frefli  perfumes, 
Tranfmit  no  pleafure.     Sedulous  in  vain, 
Her  tender  flaves  in  harmony, with  lutes 
Of  foothing  found,  their  warbled  voices  blend 
To  charm  her  fadnefs.     This,  the  precious  part 
Of  Afia's  camp,  Artuchus  holds  in  charge, 
A  fatrap,  long  cxperienc'd,  who  prefides 
O'er  all  the  regal  palaces.     High  rank'd, 
Bold,  refolute  and  faithful,  he  commands 
The  whole  Sperchean  vale.     In  proipeift  i  ife 
The  diftant  navy,  dancing  on  the  foam, 
Th'  unbounded  camp,  enveloping  the  plain, 
With  Xerxes'  tent,  uuguft  in  ftrudure  plac'd 
A  central  objed  to  attract  the  eyes  . 
Of  fubjeft  millions.  Thither  now  refort 
Tigranes  and  Phriortes.  Him  they  find 
liij 


5*5 


THE    WORKS    OF   GLOVER. 


Enclos'd  by  princes,  by  illuftnous  chiefs, 

The  potentates  of  Afia.  Near  his  fide 

Abrocomes  and  Hyperanthes  wait, 

His  gallant  brothers,  with  Mazxus  brave, 

Pandates,  Intaphernes,  mighty  lords. 

Their  fcepter'd  mafter  from  his  radiant  feat 

Looks  down  imperious.   So  the  ftately  tow'r 

Of  Belus,  mingling  its  majeftic  brow 

With  heav'n's  bright  azure,  from  on  highfurvey'd 

The  huge  extent  of  Babylen,  with  all 

Her  ftimptuous  domes  and  palaces  beneath. 

This  day  his  banners  to  unfurl  in  Greece 

The  monarch's  will  decides  ;  but  firft  ordains, 

That  grateful  hymns  fhould  celebrate  the  nume 

Of  Horomaees:  So  the  Perfians  call'd 

The  world's  great  author.    Rob'd  in  ptrreft  white, 

The  Magi  rang'd  before  th'  unfolded  tent. 

Fire  blaz'd  befide  them.  Tow'rds  the  facred  flame 

They  turn'd,  and  fent  their   tuneful    praiie   to 

heav'n. 

From  Zoroaftres  was  the  fong  deriv'd, 
"VVho  on  the  hills  of  Perfia,  from  his  cave, 
By  flow'rsenviron'd,  and  melodious  founts, 
Which  footh'd  the  folemn  manfion,  had  reveal'd, 
How  Horomazes,  radiant  fource  of  good, 
Original,  immortal,  fram'd  the  globe 
In  fruitfulnefs  and  beauty  :  how  with  ftars 
By  him  the  heav'ns  were  fpangled :  how  the  fan, 
Refulgent  Mithra,  pureft  fpring  of  light, 
And  genial  warmth,    whence    teeming    nature 

fmiles, 

Burft  from  the  eaft  at  his  creating  voice ; 
When  flraight  beyond  the  golden  verge  of  day 
Hight  fhow'd  the  horrors  of  her  diftant  reign, 
"Where  black  and  hateful  Arimanius  frown'd, 
The  author  foul  of  evil ;   how  with  made? 
From  his  dire  manCon,  he  deform'd  the  works 
Of  Horomazes,  turn'd  to  noxious  heat 
The  folar  beam,  that  foodful  earth  might  parch, 
That  ftreams,  exhaling,  might  forfake  their  beds, 
Whence  peftilence  and  famine  :  how  the  pow'r 
CJf  Horomazes  in  the  human  breaft 
Benevolence  and  equity  infus'd, 
Truth,  temperance,  and  wifdom,    fprting    from 

heav  n : 

When  Arimaniusblacken'd  all  the  foul    - 
"U'ith  faifehood  and  injuftice,  with  ddires 
Infatiable,  with  violence  and  rage, 
Malignity  and  folly.    If  the  hand 
Of  Horomazes  on  precarious  life 
Sheds  wealth  and  pleafure ;  fwift  th'  infernal  god 
With  wild  excefs,  or  av'rice,  blafts  the  joy. 
Thou  Horomazes,  victory  doft  give. 
By  thee  with  fame  the  regal  head  is  crown 'd. 
Great  Xerxes  owns  thy  fuccocr.  When  in  ftorrns 
The  hate  of  direful  Arimanius  fwell'd 
Tne  Hellefpont ;  thou  o'er  its  chafing  breafl 
The  deftin'd  mafter  'of  the  world  didft  lead, 
This  day  his  promis'd  glories  to  enjoy : 
When  Greece  affrighted  to  his  arm  fliall  bend  ; 
Ev'n  as  at  laft  mall  Arimanins  fall 
.  Before  thy  might,  and  evil  be  no  more. 

The  Magi  ceas'd  their  harmony.    Behold, 
From  her  tall  fhip,  between  a  double  row 
Of  naval  warriors,  while  a  golden  fay 
Shoots  from  her  flandard,  Artemifia  lands. 
In  her  enrich'd  accoutrements  of  war, 
The  full-wrcvght  buckler,  and  high-crefted  hdmy 


In  Caria  firft  devis'd,  cicrofs  the  besch 
Her  tow'ring  form  advances.    So  the  piner 
From  Taurus  !ie\vn  mature  in  fpify  pride, 
Now  by  the  failor  in  itscanvafi  wings 
Voluminous,  and  dazzling  pendants  jrefs'd, 
On  Artemifia's  own  imperial  deck 
Is  feen  to  rife,  and  overtop  the  grove 
Of  crowded  marts  furrounding.    In  her  heart 
Deep  fcorn  of  courtly  counfcllors  flie  bore, 
Who  fill  with  impious  vanity  their  king ; 
As  when  he  lafh'd  the  Hellefpont  with  rods, 
Amid  the  billows  caft  a  golden  chain 
To  fetter  Neptune.  Yet  her  brow  fevere 
Unbent  its  rigour  often,  as  (he  ghnc'd 
On  her  young  foil,  who,  pacing  near  in  arms 
Of  Csrian  guife,  proportion'd  to  his  years, 
Look'd  up,  and  waken'd  by  repeated  fmiles 
Maternal  fondnefs,  melting  in  that  eye, 
Which  fcowl'd  on  purpled  flatterers.  Her  feat 
At  the  right  hand  of  Xerxes  fhe  a  flumes, 
Invited ;  while  in  adoration  bow'd 
Tigrar.es  and  Phraortes.    Prone  they  layv 
Acrofs  their  foreheads  fpread  thtir  fervile  palras» 
As  from  a  prefent  deity,  too  bright 
For  mortal  vifion,  to  conceal  their  ey;*-. 
At  length  in  abjedt  phrafe  Tigranes  thus. 

O  Xerxes,  live  for  ever  !  Gracious  lord, 
Who  doft  permit  thy  fervants  to  approach 
Thy  awful  fight,  and  proftiate  to  confels 
Thy  majefty  and  radiance.  May  the  pow'r 
Of  Horomazes  ftretch  thy  regal  arm 
O'er  endlefs  nations,  from  the  Indian  fhcrea 
To  thofe  wide  floods,  which  beat  Iberian  flrands, 
From  northern  Tanais  to  the  fource  of  Nile  ! 
Still  from  thy  head  may  Arimanius  bend 
Againft  thy  foes  his  malice  !  Yonder  Greeks, 
Already  fmit  whh  frenzy  by  his  wrath, 
Reject  thy  profer'd  clemency.  They  choofe 
To  magnify  thy  glory  by  their  fall. 

The  monarch,  turning  to  his  brothers,  fpake. 
Say,  Hypcranthes,  can  thy  foul  believe 
Thefe  tidings  ?    Sure  thefe  flaves  have  never  dar'd 
To  face  the  Grecians,  but  delude  our  ears 
With  bafe  impoftures,  which  their  fear  fuggefts. 

He  frown'd,  and  Hypcranthes  calm  reply'd. 

0  from  his  fervants  may  the  king  avert 
His  indignation  !  Greece  was  famM  of  old 
For  martial  fpirit,  and  a  daur.tlefs  breed. 

1  once  have  try'd  their  valour.    To  my  word* 
Abrocomes  can  wituefs.  When  thy  fire 

And  ours,  Darius,  to  Athenian  mores 
With  Artaphernes  brave,  and  Datis,  fent 
Our  tender  youth ;  at  Marathon  we  found 
How  weak  the  hope,  that  numbers  could  difinay 
A  foe,  refolv'd  on  victory,  or  death. 
Yet  not,  as  one  contemptible,  or  bafe, 
Let  me  appear  before  thee.    Though  the  Greeks 
With  fuch  perfifling  courage  be  endu'd, 
Soon  as  the  king  fhalf  fummon  to  the  field, 
He  fhall  behold  me  in  the  dang'rous  van 
Exait  my  fpear,  and  pierce  the  hoftile  ranks, 
Or  fink  beneath  them.    Xerx;s  fwift  rejoin'd. 

Why  over  Afia.  and  the  Libyan  foil, 
With  all  their  nations,  doth  my  potent  arm 
Extend  its  fceptre  ?  Wherefore  do  I  fweep 
Acrofs  the  earth  with  millions  in  my  train  ? 
Why  fliade  the  ocean  with  unnumber'd  fails  ? 
Why  all  this  pow'r,  unlefs  th'  Almighty's  will 


LEONID  AS. 


Decreed  one  mafter  to  the  fubjeA  world  ; 

Arid  that  the  earth's  extremity  alone 

Should  bound  my  empire  ?   He  far  this  reduc'd 

The  Nile's  revolted  Ions,  enlarg'd  my  fway 

With  fandy  Libya,  and  the  fultry  clime 

Of  /Ethiopia.  He  for  this  fubdu'cl 

The  Hellefpontic  foatn,  and  taught  the  fea 

Obedience  to  my  nod.  Then  dream  no  more, 

That  lieav'n,  deferring  my  imperial  caufe, 

With  courage  more  than  human,  will  infpire 

Yon  defpicable  Grecians,  and  expwnge 

The  common  fears  of  nature  from  their  breads. 

The  monarch  ceas'd.    Abrocomes  began. 
The  king  commands  us  to  reveal  our  thoughts. 
Incredulous  he  hears.    But  time  and  truth 
Not  Horomazes  can  arrelt.    Thy  beams 
To  inftant.  lightning,  Mithra,  raay'ft  thou  change 
For  my  deftrudtion  ;  may  th'  ofiended  king 
Frown  on  his  fervant,  call  a  lothiivg  eye  ; 
If  the  aflertion  of  my  lips  be  falfe  : 
Our  further  march  thofe  Grecians  will  oppofe. 

Amid  th'  encircling  peers  Argeftes  fat, 
A  potent  prince.    O'er  Sipylus  he  reign'd, 
Whole  verdant  fummits  overlook'd  the  waves 
Of  Hermus  and  J-'actolus.    Either  itream, 
Enrich'd  by  golden  funds,  a  tribute  pay'd 
To  this  great  i'atrap.    Through  the  fervile  court 
Yet  none  was  found  more  practic'd  in  the  arts 
Of  mean  fubmiflioa  ;  none  more  (kill'd  to  gain 
The  royal  favour;  none,  who  better  knew 
The  phrafe,  the  look,  the  gefture  of  a  ilave ; 
None  more  deteftrng  Artem ilia's  worth, 
By  her  none  more  defpisM.    His  matter's  eye 
He   caught,   then  i'pake,     Difplay  thy  dazzling 

ftate, 

Thou  deity  of  Afia.  Greece  will  hide 
Before  thy  prefence  her  dejected  face. 

Laft  Artemifia,  riling  ftern,  began  : 
"Why  fits  the  lord  of  Afia  in  his  tent, 
Unprofitably  wading  precious  hours 
In  vaindil'cuflion,  whether  yonder  Greeks^ 
Rang'd  in  defence  of  that  important  pafs, 
Will  right,  or  lly  ?  A  queftion  by  the  fword 
To  be  decided.   Still  to  narrow  ftreights 
3iy  land,  by  fea  thy  council  hath  coniin'd 
Each  enterprife  of  war.    In  numbers  weak 
Twite  have  th'  Athenians  in  Eubcea's  frith 
"Repuls'd  thy  navy — But  whate'er  thy  will, 
Be  it  enforc'd  by  vigour.    Let  the  king 
The  diff 'rence  fee  by  trial  in  the  field 
"Between  fmooth  found  and  valour.   Then  difiblvc 
Thefe  impotent  debates.    Afcend  thy  car. 
The  future  ftage  of  war  thyfelf  explore. 
Behind  thee  leave  the  vanity  of  hope, 
That  Inch  a  foe  to  fptendour  will  fubmit, 
Whom  fteel,  not  gold  muft  vanquifh.    Thou  pro- 

vide 

Thy  mail,  Argeftes.     Not  in  filken  robes, 
Not  as  in  council  with  an  oily  tongue, 
But  fpear  to  fpear,  and  clanging  fhield  to  fliield, 
Thou  foon  mult  grapple  on  a  field  of  blood. 

The  king  arofe — No  more.  Prepare  my  car. 
The  Spartan  exile,  Demaratus,  call. 
\Ve  will  ourfelves  advance  to  view  the  foe. 

The  monarch  will'd ;  and  fuddenly  he  heard 
His  trampling  horfes.  High  on  filver  wheels 
The  iv'ry  c»r  with  azure  fapphii  es  (hone, 


feruk-an  beryls,  and  the  jafper  green. 
The  emerald,  the  ruby's  glowing  blulh, 
The  flaming  topaz  with  its  golden  beam, 
The  pearl,  th'  empurpled  amethyl't,  and  all 
The  various  gems,  which  India's  mines  afford 
To  deck  the  pomp  of  kings.   In  burnifli'd  gold 
A  fculptur'd  eagle  from  behind  difplny'd 
His  (lately  neck,  and  o'er  the  royal  head 
Qatftretch'd  his  dazzling  wings.    Eight  gen'rouS 

Heeds, 

Which  on  the  fam'd  Nifaean  plain  were  nurs'd 
[n  wtnt'ry  Media,  drew  the  radiant  car. 
Not  thole  of  old,  to  Hercules  refus'd 
By  falfe  Laomedon,  nor  they,  which  bore 
The  fon  of  Thetis  through  the  tcatter'd  rear 
Of  Troy's  devoted  race,  with  thefe  might  vie 
In  ftrength,  or  beauty.  In  obedient  pride 
They  hear  their  lord.  Exulting,  in  the  air 
They  tofs  their  foreheads.     On   their  glift'ni»g 

chefts 

The  filver  manes  difport.  The  king  afcends. 
B;  fide  his  footftool  Demaratus  fits. 
The  charioteer  now  Ihakes  th'  effulgent  reins, 
Strong  Patiramphes.     At  the  fignal  bound 
Tli'  attentive  fteeds ;  the  churiot  Hie*  :    behind, 
Ten  thoufand  horfe  in  thunder  fweep  the  field- 
Down  to  the  fea-beat  margin,  ou  a  plain 
Of  vait  expanlion  in  battalia  wait 
The  eaftern  bands.    To  thefe  th*  imperial  wheel?, 
By  princes  followed  in  a  hundred  cars, 
Proceed.     The  queen  of  Caria  and  her  fon 
With  I Iyperartth.es  rode.  The  king's  approach 
Swift  through  the  wide  arrangement  is  proclaimed. 
He  now  draws  nigh.  Th'  innumerable  hod 
Roll  back  by  nations,  and  admit  their  lord 
With  all  his  fatraps.     As  from  cryftal  domes, 
Built  underneath  an  arch  of  pendent  feas, 
When  that  Item  pow'r,  whofe  trident  rules  the 

floods, 

With  each  cerulean  deity  afcends, 
Thron'd  in  his  pearly  chariot,  all  the  deep 
Divides  its  bofom  to  th'  emerging  god  ; 
So  Xerxes  rode  between  the  Afian  world, 
On  either  lide  receding  :  when,  as  down 
Th'  immeafurable  ranks  his  fight  was  loft, 
A  momentary  gloom  o'ercaft  his  mind, 
While  this  reflection  fiH'd  his  eyes  with  tears  : 
That,  foon  as  time  a  hundred  years  had  told* 
Not  one  among  thofe  millions  fiiould  furvive. 
Whence  to  obfcure  thy  pride  arofe  that  cloud  I 
Was  it,  that  once  humanity  could  touch 
A  tyrant's  bread  ?  or  rather  did  thy  foul 
Re-pine,  <)  Xerxss,  at  the  bitter  thought, 
That  all  thy  pow'r  was  mortal  ?  but  the  veil 
Of  fadnefs  foon  forfook  his  brightning  eye. 
As  with  adoring  awe  thofe  millions  bow'd, 
And  to  his  heart  relentlefs  pride  recall'd. 
Elate  the  mingled  profpect  he  furveys 
Of  glitt'ring  files  unnumber'd,  chariots  fcyth'if, 
On  thundring  asks  roll'd,  and  haughty  fteeds, 
In  futnptuous  trappings  clad,  Barbaric  pomp. 
While  gorgeous  banners  to  the  fun  expand 
Their  ftreaming  volumes  of  relucent  gold, 
Pre-eminent  amid  It  tiaras  geinm'd, 
Engraven  helmets,  fliields  embofs'd,  and  fpear\ 
In  number  equal  to  the  bladed  grafs, 
Whofe  living  green  in,  vernal  beauty  clothes 
I  i  iij 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


Thefialia's  vale.  What  pow'rs  of  founding  verfe 
Can  to  the  mind  prefent  th'  amazing  fcene  ? 
Not  thee,  whom  rumour's  fabling  voice  delights, 
Poetic  fancy,  to  my  aid  I  call ; 
But  thou,  hiftoric  truth,  fupport  my  fong, 
"Which  (hall  the  various  multitude  difplay. 
Their  arms,  their  manners,  and  their  native  feats. 

The  Perfiaps  firft  in  fcaly  corfclets  (hone, 
A  jen'rous  nation,  worthy  to  enjoy 
The  liberty,  their  injur'd  fathers  loft, 
Whofe  arms  for  Cyrus  o^erturn'd  the  flrength 
Of  Babylon  and  Sardis.  Pow'r  advahc'd 
The  victor's  head  above  his  country's  laws- 
Their  tongues  were  practis'd  in  the  words  of  truth, 
Their  limbs  inur'd  to  ev'ry  manly  toil, 
To  brace  the  bow,  to  rule  th'  impetuous  fteed, 
To  dart  the  javelin  j  but  untaught  to  form 
The  ranks  of  war,  with  unconnected  force, 
With  ineffectual  fortitude  they  rufh'd, 
As  on  a  fence  of  adamant,  to  pierce 
Th'  indiffbluble  phalanx.  Lances  fliort. 
And  ofier-woven  targets  they  oppos'd 
To  weighty  Grecian  fpears,  and  mafly  fliields. 
On  ev'ry  head  tiaras  rbfe  like  tow'rs, 
Impenetrable.  .With  a. golden  glofj 
Blaz'd  their  gay  fandals,  and  the  floating  reins 
Of  each  proud  courier.  Daggers  on  their  thighs, 
Well-furniih'.d  quivers  on  their  Ihoulders  hung, 
And  flrorsjreft  bows  of  mighty  fize  they  bore. 
Refembling  thefe  in  arms,  the  Medes  are  feen, 
The  Ciiliarjs  and  Hyrcanians.  Media  once 
From  her  bleak  mountains  aw'd  the  fubject  eaft. 
Her  kings  in  cold  Ecbatana  were  thron'd. 
The  Ciflians  march'd  from  Sufa'scegal  walls, 
From   fultry    fields,    o'erfpread    with   branching 

palms, 

And  white  with  lilies,  water'd  by  the  floods 
Of  fam'd  Choafpes.  rtis  tranfparent  wave 
The  coftly  goblet  wafts  to  Perfia's  kings. 
All  other  dreams  the  royal  lip  difdains. 
Hyrcania's  race  forfook  their  fruitful  clime, 
Dark  in  the  fliadows  of  expanding  oaks, 
To  Ceres  dear  and  Bacchus.  There  the  corn, 
Bent  by  its  foodful  burden  (heds,  unreap'd, 
Its  plenteous  feed,  impregnating  the  foil 
With  future  harvefts  ;  while  in  ev'ry  wood 
Their  precious  labours  on  the  loaden  boughs 
The  honey'd  fvvanns  purfue.  Allyria's  fons 
Difplay  their  brazen  cafques,  unikilful  work 
Of  rude  Barbarians.  Each  fuftains  a  mace, 
O'eilaid  with  iron.  Near  Euphrates'  banks 
Within  the  mighty  Babylonian  gates 
They  dwell,   aud  where  ftill  mightier  once   in 

fway 

Old  Ninus  reared  its  head,  th'  imperial  feat 
Of  eldeft  tyrants.  Thefe  Chaldaea  joins, 
The  land  of  (hepherds.  From  the  paftures  wide 
Th<>re  Belus  firft  difcern'd  the  various  courfe 
Of  Heav'n's  bright  planets,  and  the  clult'ring  flar 
With  names  diftinguilh'd ;  whence  himfelf  wa 

deem'd 

The  fir.T:  of  gods.  His  fky-afcending  fane 
In  Babylon  the  proud  Aifyrians  rais'd. 
Drawn  from  the  bounteous  foil,  by  Ochus  lav!d, 
The  Bactrians  ftood,  and  rough  in  fkins  of  goats 
The  Pariranian  archers.  Cafpian  ranks 
From  barren  mountains,  from  the  jojlefs  coaft 


Around  the  ftormy  lake,  whofe  name  they  tore, 
Their  fcimiters  upheld,  and  cany  bows. 
The  Indian  tribes,  a  threefold  hoft  cornpofe. 
Dart  guide  the  courfer,  part  the  rapid  car ; 
The  reft  on  foot  within  the  bending  cane 
7or  (laughter  fix  the  iron-pointed  reed. 
They  o'er  the  Indus  from  the  diftunt  verge 
Df  Ganges  palling,  left  a  region,  lov'd 
By  lavifli  nature.  There  the  feafon  bland 
Beftows  a  double  harveft.  Honey'd  ftirubs. 
The  cinnamon,  the  fplkenard  blefs  their  fields. 
Array'd  in  native  wealth,  each  warrior  fhines. 
His  ears   bright-beaming   pendants   grace ;     his 

hands, 

Incircled,  wear  a  bracelet,  ftarr'd  with  gems. 
Such  were  the  nations,  who  to  Xersesfent 
Their  mingled  aids  of  infantry  and  horfe. 

Now,  mufe,  recite,  what  multitudes  obicur'd 
The  plain  on  foot,  or  elevated  high 
On  martial  axles,  or  on  camels  beat 
The  loofen'd  mold.  The  Parthians  firft  appear, 
Then  weak  in  numbers,  from  unfruitful  hills, 
From    woods,    nor   yet    for   warlike   fteeds    re- 
no  wn'd. 

Near  them  the  Sogdians,  Dadices  arrange, 
Gandarians  and  Chorafmians.  Sacian  throngs 
From  cold  Imanspour'd,  from  Oxus'  wave, 
From  Cyra,  built  on  laxartes'  brink, 
A  bound  of  Perfia's  empire.   Wild,  untam'd, 
To  fury  prone  their  deferts  they  forfook. 
A  bow,  a  falchion,  and  a  pond'rous  ax 
The  favage  legions  arm'd.    A  pointed  cafque 
O'er  each  grim  vifage  rear'd  an  iron  cone, 
In  arms  like  Perfians  the  Saranges  ftood. 
High,  as  their  knees,  the  fhapely  bu(kins  clung 
Around  their  legs.  Magnificent  they  trod 
In  garments  richly  tinctur'd.  Next  are  feen 
The  Pactian,  Mycinn,  and  the  Utian  train, 
In  (kins  of  goats  rude-vefted.  But  in  fpoils 
Of  tawny  lions,  and  of  fpotted  pai'ds 
The  graceful  range  of  Ethiopians  (hows 
An  equal  ftature,  and  a  beauteous  frame. 
Their  torrid  region  had  imferown'd  their  cheeks, 
And  curl'd  their  jetty  locks.     In  ancient  fong 
Kenown'd  for  juitice,  riches  they  difdain'd, 
As  foes  to  virtue.  From  their  feat  remote 
On  Nilus'  verge  above  th'  Egyptian  bound 
Forc'd  by  their  king's  malignity  and  pride, 
Thefe  friends  of  hofpitality  and  peace, 
Themfelves  uninjur'd,  wage  reluctant  war 
Againft  a  land,  v/hcfe  climate,  and  whofe  name 
To  them  were  ftrange.     With  hardeft  ftoue  they 

poin  t 

The  rapid  arrow.    Bows  four  cubits  long, 
Form'd  of  elaflic  branches  from  the  palm, 
They  carry,  knotted  clubs,  and  lances,  arm'd 
With  horns  of  goats.  The  Paphlagonians  march'd, 
From  where  Carambis  with  projected  brows 
O'erlooks  the  duiky  Eusine,  wrapt  in  mifts, 
From  where  through  flow'rs,  which  paint  his  va- 

ry'cl  banks, 

Parthenius  flows.  The  Ligyan  bands  fucceed ; 
The  Martienians,  Mariandenians  next; 
To  them  the  Syrian  multitudes,  who  range 
Among  the  cedars  on  the  fhaded  ridge 
Of  Libarus ;  who  cultivate  the  glebe, 
Wide-watev'd  by  Orontes;  who  refide 


LEONID  AS. 


S<>3 


Near   Daphne's  grove,    or    pluck    from   loaded 

palms 

The  foodful  date,  which  clutters  on  the  plains 
Of  rich  Damafcus.   All,  who  bear  the  name 
Of  Cappadocians,  fwell  the  Syrian  hod, 
With  thofe,  who  gather  from  the  fragrant  fhrub 
The  aromatic  balfam,  and  extract 
Its  milky  juice  along  the  lovely  fide 
Of  Jordan,  winding,  till  immers'd  he  deeps 
Beneath  a  pitchy  furface,  which  obfcures 
Th'  Afphaltic  pool.  The  Phrygians  then  advance, 
To  them  their  ancient  colony  are  join'd, 
Armenia's  fons.  Thefe  fee  the  gufliing  founts 
Of  ilrong  Euphrates  cleave  the  yielding  earth, 
Then,  wide  in  lakes  expanding,  hide  the  plain  ; 
Whence  with  collected  waters,  fierce  and  deep, 
His  paflage  rending  through  diminifh'd  rocks, 
To  Babylon  he  foams.  Not  fo  the  ftream 
Of  foft  Araxes  to  the  Cafpian  glides ; 
lie,  ftealing  imperceptibly,  fullains 
The  green  profufionof  Armenia's  meads. 
Now  ftrange  to  view,  in  fimilar  attire, 
But  far  unlike  in  manners  to  the  Greeks, 
Appear  the  Lydians.   Wantonnefs  and  fport 
Were  all  their  care.  Befide  Cayfter's  brink, 
Or  fmooth  Mseander,  winding  filent  by, 
Befide  Pactolean  waves,  among  the  vines 
Of  Timolus  rifing,  or  the  wealthy  tide 
Of  golden. fanded  Hermits  they  allure 
The  fight,  enchanted  by  the  graceful  dance; 
Or  with  melodious  fweetnefs  charm  the  air, 
And  melt  to  fofteit  languifliment  the  foul. 
What  to  the  field  of  danger  could  incite 
Thefe  tender  fons  of  luxury  ?  The  lafh 
Of  their  fell  fov'reign  drove  their  fliiv'ring  backs 
Through   hail  and  tempeft,  which  enrag'd  the 

main, 

And  fliook  beneath  their  tr&mhiing  fteps  the  pile, 
Conjoining  Afia  and  the  weftern  world. 
To  them  Mceonia  hot  with  fulph'rous  mines 
Unites  her  troops.  No  tree  adorns  their  Jields, 
Unblefs'd  by  verdure.  Aflieshide  the  foil; 
Black  are  the  rocks,  and  ev'ry  hill  deform'd 
By  conflagration.  Helmets  prefs  their  brows. 
Two  darts  they  brandilh.  On  their  woolly  veils 
A  fword  is  girt ;  and  hairy  hides  compofe 
Th^ir  bucklers  round  and  fmall.  The  Myfians  left 
Olympus  wood-envelop'd,  left  the  meads, 
Wafli'd  by  Cai'cus,  and  the  baneful  tide 
Of  Lycus,  nurfe  to  ferpents.  Next  advance 
An  ancient  nation,  who  in  early  times 
By  Trojan  arms  afiail'd,  their  native  l»nd 
Efteem'd  lefs  dear,  than  freedom,  and  exchang'd 
Their  feat  on  Strymon,  where  in  Thrace  he  pours 
A  freezing  current,  for  the  diftant  flood 
Of  fifliy  Sangar.  Tbefe,  Bithynians  nam'd, 
Their  habitation  to  the  facred  feet 
Of  Dindymus  extend.  Yet  there  they  groan 
Beneath  opprefiion,  and  their  freedom  mourn 
On  Sangar  now,  as  once  on  Strymon  loft. 
The  ruddy  (kins  of  foxes  cloth'd  their  heads. 
Their  fhields  were  fafliion'd  like  the  horned  moon. 
A  veft  embraced  their  bodies ;  while  abroad, 
Ting'd  with  unnumber'd  hues,  a  mantle  flow'd. 
But  other  Thracians,  who  their  former  name 
Retain'd  in  Afia,  fulgent  morions  wore, 
With  horns  of  bulls  in  imitating  brafs, 


Curv'd  o'er  the  crefted  ridge.  Phoenician  rhnh 
Their  legs  infolded.  Wont  to  chafe  the  wolf, 
A  hunter's  Ipearthey  grafp'd.  What  nations  ftiil 
On  either  fide  of  Xerxe«,  while  he  pafs'd, 
Their  huge  array  difcov'ring,  fwell  his  foul 
With    more   than    mortal   pride  ?    The   ciufier'U 

bands 

Of  Mofchians  and  Macron!  ans  new  appear, 
The  iMofyncecians,  who,  on  berries  fed, 
In  wooden  towers  along  the  Pontic  fands 
Repofe  their  pointed  limbs ;  the  mirthful  race 
Of  i'ibarenians  next,  whcfe  carelefs  mincis 
Delight  in  play  and  laughter.  Then  advance 
In  garments,  buckled  on  their  fpacious  chefls, 
A  people,  dcftin'd  in  eternal  verfe, 
Ev'n  thine,  fublime  Mceonides,  to  live. 
Thefe  are  the  Milyans.  Solyrr.i  their  name 
In  thy  celeftial  {trains,  Piiidia's  hills 
Their  dwelling.  Once  a  formidable  train 
They  fac'd  the  ftrang  Beilerophon  in  war. 
Now  doom'd  a  'more  tremendous  foe  to  meet, 
Themfelves    unnerv'd  by    thraldom,   they   muft 

leave 

Their  putrid  bodies  to  the  dogs  of  Greece. 
The  Marians  follow.   Next  is  Aria's  holt, 
Drawn  from  a  region  horrid  all  in  thorn, 
A  dreary  wafte  of  fands,  which  mock  the  toil 
Of  patient  culture;  fave  one  favour'd  fpot, 
Which  from  the  wild  emerges  like  an  ifle, 
Attir'd  in  verdure,  interfper'd  with  vines 
Of  gen'rous  nurture,  yielding  juice,  which  fcorns 
The  injuries  of  time  :  yet  nature's  hand 
Had  fown  their  rocks  with  coral ;  had  enrich'd 
Their  defert  hiils  with  veins  of  fapphires  blue, 
Which  on  the  turbant  ihine.  On  ev'ry  neck 
The  coral  blufhes  through  the  num'rous  throng. 
The  Allarodians,  and  Safperian  bands, 
Equipp'd  like  Coichians,  wield  a  falchion  fmall. 
Their  heads  are  guarded  by  a  helm  of  wood. 
Their  lances  Ihort,  of  hides  undrefs'd  their  fhields. 
The   Coichians  march'd  from   Phafis,    from  the 

ftrand, 

Where  once  Medea,  fair  enchantrefs,  flood, 
Ansl,  wond'ring,  view'd  the  firft  advent'rous  keel, 
Which  cut  the  Pontic  foam.  From  Argo's  fide 
The  demigods  defcended.  They  repair'd 
To  her  fell  fire's  inhofpitable  hall. 
His  blooming  graces  Jafon  there  difclos'd. 
With  ev'ry  art  of  eloquence  divine 
He  claim'd  the  golden  fleece.     The  virgin  heard, 
She  gaz'd  in  fatal  ravimmcnt,  and  lov'u. 
Then  to  the  hero  fhe  refigns  her  heart. 
Her  magic  tames  the  brazen-footed  bulls. 
She  lulls  the  fleeplefs  dragon.  O'er  the  main 
He  wafts  the  golden  prize,  and  gen'rons  fair, 
The  deftin'd  victim  of  his  treach'rous  vows. 
The  hoftile  Coichians  then  purfu'd  their  flight 
In  vain.    By  ancient  enmity  inflam'd,  ' 
Or  torecal  the  long-forgotten  wrong 
Corapell'd  by  Xerxes,  now  they  menace  Greece 
With  defolation.  Next  in  Median  garb 
A  crowd  appear'd,  who  left  the  peopled  ifles 
In  Perfia's  gulf,  and  round  Arabia  ftrewn. 
Some  in  their  native  topaz  were  adorn'd, 
From  Ophiodes,  from  T»pazos  fprung  ; 
Some  in  the  fhells  of  tortoifes,  which  brooJ 
Around  Cafitis'  verge.  For  battle  range 
1  i  iiij 


THE   WORKS    OF   GLOVER, 


Thofe,  \vbo  re  fide,  where,  ill  bsfet  with  palms, 

i'rytluas  lies  entomb'J,  a  potent  king-. 

XVho  nam'd  of  old  the  Erythraean  main. 

On  chariots  fcythM  the  Libyans  fat  niray'd 

In  Ikins  terrific,  brandifhing  their 'darts 

Of  wood,  well-temper'd  in  the  hafd'ning  flames. 

Kjt  Libya's  deserts  from  tyrannic  fway 

CuuiJ  hide  her  fons;  much   Jets   could  freedom 

dwell 

Amid  the  plenty  of  Arabia's  fields : 
"Where  fpicy  Calfia,  where  the  fragrant  rercl, 
Where  myrrh,   and  hallow'd   frankincenfe   per- 

fume 

The  zephyr's  wing.     A  bow  oflargeft  fize 
Th'  Arabian  earner     O^tr  his  lucid  veil 
Loofe  floats  a  mantJe,  on  Ms  (houlder  clafp'd. 
-i  wo  (.hofen  myriads  on  the  lofty  backs 
Of  camels  rode,  who  match'd  the  fleeted  hnrte. 

Such  were  the  numbers,  which,  from  Afia  led, 
In  bafe  proftration  how'd  before  the  wheels 
Of  Xerxes' chariot.  Yet  what  legions  more 
The  Malian  land  o'ermaclow  ?  Forward  rolls 
The  regal  car  through  nation?,  who  in  arms, 
In  order'd  ranks  unlike  the  orient  tribes, 
Upheld  the  fpear  and  buckler.   But,  untaught 
To  bend  the  ferrile  knee,  erect  they  Hood  ; 
UnleTs  that;  mourning  o'er  the  lliameful  weight 
Of  thejr  new  bondage,  feme  their  brows  deprefs'd, 
Their  arms  with  grief  cHftaining.  Europe's  fons 
Were  thcfe,  whom  Xerxes  by  refinlefs  force 
Itad  gather'd   round   his  Itandards.    Murm'ring 

here, 

The  fons  of  Thrace  and  Macedonia  rang'd  ; 
Here  on  his  fteed  the  brave  ThetValian  frown'd  ; 
There  pin'tl  reluctant  multitudes,  of  Greece 
Redundant  plar.ts,  in  colonies  difpers'd 
Between  Byzantium,  and  the  Malian  bay. 

Through  all  the  nations,  who  ador'd  his  pride, 
Or  fear'd  his  pow'r,  the  monarch  now  was  pafs'd  ; 
Nor  yet  among  thofe  millions  could  be  found 
One,  who  in  beauteous  feature  might  compare, 
Or  tow'ring  fize  with  Xerxes.  O  poffefs'd 
Of  all,  but  virtue,  dooin'd  to  mow,  how  mean, 
iflow  weak  without  her  is  unbounded  pow'r,    • 
The  charm  of  beauty,  and  the  bl;i/e  oftfate, 
How  infecure  of  happinefs,  how  vain  '. 
Thou,  who  couldlt  mourn  the  common  lot,  by 

heay'n 
From  none  withheld,    which  oft  to   thoufands 

proves 

Their  only  refuge  from  a -tyrant's  rage  ; 
Which  in  confuming  ficknels,  age,  or  pain 
.Becomes  at  laft  a  foothing  ho:,e  to  all  : 
Thou,   who  couldlt   weep,   that  nature's  gentle 

hand  I 

Should  lay  her  weary'd  offspring  in  the  tomb  ; 
Yet  couldft  remorfelefs  fiom  their  peaceful  feats 
Lead  half  the  nations,  victims  to  thy  pride, 
To  famine,  plague  and  maffacre  a  prey  ; 
Wfaajr.  didlt  thou  merit  from  the  injur'd  world  ? 
What  fufF'rings  to  compenfate  for  the  tears 
Of  Afia's  mother?,  for  unpeopled  realms, 
For  all  this  wafte  of  nature  ?  On  his  hoft 
Th'  exulting  monarch  bends  his  haughty  %hr> 
To  Demaratus  then  directs  his  voice. 

My  fjuher,  great  Darius,  to  thy  mind 
£ecal,  O  Spartan,  Gracious  he  reteiv'd, 
6 


I  Thy'  wand'rinj  ftep?,  cspell'a  tlieir  nati 
My  favonr  too  remember.     To  beguile 
Thy  benefactor,  and  disfigure  truth 
Would  ill  become  tbee.     With  confid'rate  eyes 
Look  back  on  thefe  battalions.     Now  declare, 
If  yonder  Grecians  will  oppofe  their  inarch. 

To  him  the  exile.     Deem  not,  mighty  lord, 
I  will  deceive  thy  goodnefs  by  a  tale 
T<>  give  them  glory,  who  degraded  mine. 
Nor  be  the  king-  offended,  while  I  ufe 
The  voice  of  truth.     The  Spartans  never  fly. 

Contemptuous  fmll'd'the  monarch,  and  refum'd. 
Wilt  thou  in  Lacedernou  once  fupreme, 
Encounter  twenty  Perfians  ?  Yet  thcfe  Greeks 
hi  greater  difproportion  mull:  engage 
Our  hoft  to-morrow.     Demaratus  then. 

By  fmgle  combat  were  the  trial  vain 
To  fho\v  the  pow'r  of  well-united  force, 
Which  oft  by  military  fkill  furmounts 
The  weight  of  number?.     Prince,  the  diff'rence 

lea^n 

Between  thy  warriors,  and  the  fons  of  Greece. 
The  flow'r,  the  fafeguard  of  thy  num'rous  camp 
Are  mercenaries.     Thcfe  are  canton'd  round 
Tliy  provinces.     No  fertile  field  demands 
1'heir  painful  hand  to  break  the  fallow  glebe. 
Them  to  the  noon-day  toil  nc  harveft  calls. 
Nor  on  the  mountain  fulls  the  ftubborn  oak 
By  their  laborious  ax.     Tlieir  watchful  eyc$ 
Obferve  npt,  how  the  flocks  and  heifers  feed. 
To  them  of  wealth,  of  all  pofleflions  void, 
The  name  of  country  with  an  empty  found 
Flies  o'er  the  car,  nor  warms  their  joy  lei's  hearts, 
Who  fhare  no  country.     Needy,  yet  in  fcorn 
Rejecting  labour,  wretched  by  their  wants, 
Yet  profligate  through  indolence,  with  limbs 
F.nervated  and  foft,  with  minds  corrupt, 
From  mifery,  debauchery  and  florli 
Are  thefe  to  battle  drawn  againft  a  foe, 
Train'd  in  gyinnaftic  exercife  and  arms, 
Inur'd  to  hardfhip,  and  the  child  of  toil.       [ftorm 
Wont  through  the   freezing  fhow'r,  the  wint'ry 
O'er  his  own  glebe  the  taidy  ox  to  p<~.ad, 
Or  in  the  fun's  impetuous  heat  to  glow 
Beneath  the  burden  of  his  yellow  fhcaves; 
Whence  on  himfelf,  on  her,  whofe  faithful  arms 
Infold  him  joyful  on  a  growing  race, 
Which  glad  his  dwelling,  plenty  he  beftows    « 
With  independence.     When  to  battle  cali'd, 
For  them  his  dcareft  comfort,  and  his  care, 
And  for  the  harveft,  promis'd  to  his  toil, 
He  lifts  the  (hielfl,  nor  fhuns  uncqi:al  force. 
Such  are  the  troops  of  ev'ry  ftate  in  Greece.    - 
One  only  yields  a  breed  more  warlike  ftill, 
Of  whom  fclected  bauds  appear  in  fight, 
All  citizens  of  Sparta.     They  the  glebe 
Have  never  turn'd,  nor  bound  the  golden  fheaf: 
They  are  devoted  to  fevcrer  talks, 
For  war  alone,  their  fole  delight  and  care. 
From  infancy  to  manhood  they  are  train'd 
To  winter  watches,  to  inclement  fkics, 
To  plunge    through   torrents,    brave   the    tufky 

boar, 

To  arms  and  wounds ;  a  difcipline  of  pain 
So  fierce,  fo  conftant,  that  to  them  a  cump 
With  all  its  hardfhips  is  a  feat  of  reft, 
And  war  ii-.felf  remiffion  "from  their  toil. 

Thy  words  are  folly,  with  redoubled  fcorn 
Returns  the  monarch.    Doth  not  freedom  dwell 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


Among  the  Spartans  ?  Therefore  will  they  ftum 
vSupcrior  toss.     The  unrertrain'd  and  free 
Will  fly  from  danger  ;  while  my  vaflals,  born 
To  abfolute  controlment  from  their  king, 
Know,  if  th'  alloted  llation  they  defcrt, 
The  fcourge  awaits  them,  and  my  heavy  wrath. 

To  this  the  exile.     O  conceive  not,  prince, 
That  Spartans  want  an  object,  where  to  fix 
Their  eyes  in  rev'rence,  in  obedient  dread. 
To  them  more  awful  than  the  name  of  king 
To  Ada's  trembling  millions,  is  the  law  ; 
Whofe  facred  voice  enjoins  them  to  confront 
Unnumber'd  foes,  to  vanqtiifh,  or  to  die. 
Here  Demaratus  paufes.     Xerxes  halts. 
Its  long  deiile  Thermopylae  prefents. 
The  fatraps  leave  their  cars.    On  foot  they  form 
A  fplciidid  orb  around  their  lord.     By  chance 
The  Spartans  then  compos'd  th'  external  guard. 
They,  in  a  martial  exercife  employ'd, 
Heed  not  the  monarch,  or  his  gaudy  train ; 
But  poife  the  fpear,  protended,  as  in  fight ; 
Or  lift  their  adverJ'e  ihields  in  fingle  ftrife  ; 
Or,  trooping,  forward  rafli,  retreat  and  wheel 
In  ranks  unbroken,  and  with  equal  feet : 
While  others  calm  beneath  their  poliih'd  helms 
Draw  down  their  hair,  whofe  length  of  fable  curls 
O'erfpread  their  necks  with  terror.     Xerxes  here 
The  exile  queftions.     What  do  thefe  inten«J, 
"Who  with  affiduous  hands  adjufl  their  hair  ? 

To  whom  the  Spartan.     O  imperial  lord, 
Such  is  their  cultom,  to  adorn  their  heads, 
When  full  determin'd  to  encounter  death. 
Bring  down  thy  nations  in  refplendent  fleel ; 
Arm,  if  thou  canft,  the  gen'ral  race  of  man, 
All,  who  poffefs  the  regions  unexplor'd 
Beyond  the  Ganges,  all  whofe  wand'ring  fteps 
Above  the  Cafpian  range  the  Scythian  wild, 
With  thofe,  who  drink  the  fecret  fount  of  Nile  : 
Yet  to  Laconian  bofoms  ihall  difmay     . 
Remain  a  ftranger.     Fervour  from  his  lips 
Thus  breaks  aloud  ;  when,  gufhing  from  his  eyes, 
Refifllefs  grief  o'ci flows  his  cheeks.     Afide 
His  head  he  turns.     He  weeps  in  copious  ftreams. 
The  keen  remembrance  of  his  former  {late, 
His  dignity,  his  greatnefs,  and  the  fight 
Of  thofe  brave  ranks,  which  thus  unfhaken  flood, 
And  fpread  amazement  through  the  world  in  arms, 
Excite  thefe  ibrrows.     His  impaffion'd  looks 
Review  the  godlike  warriors,  who  beneath 
His  flandard  once  victorious  fought,  who  call'd 
Him  once  their  king,  their  leader ;  then  again, 
O'ercharg'd  with  anguifh,  he  bedews  with  tears 
His  rev 'rend  beard,  in  agony  bemoans 
liis  faded  honours,  his  illuftrious  name 
Forgotten  long,  his  rnajefty  deiil'd 
By  exile,  by  dependence.     So  obfcurd 
By  fordid  niols,  and  ivy's  creeping  leaf. 
Some  princely  palace,  or  ilupendous  fane 
Magnificent  in  ruin  nods ;  where  time 
From  under  fhelving  architraves  hath  mow'd 
The  column  down,  and  cleft  the  pond'rous  dome. 

Not  unobferv'd  by  Hyperanthes,  mourn'd 
Th'  unhappy  Spartan.     Kindly  in  his  own 
He  prefs'd  the  exile's  hand,  and  thus  humane. 

O  Demaratus,  in  this  grief  I  fee, 
How  jufl  thy  praifes  of  Laconia's  ftate. 
Though  cherifh'd  hej-,3  \vith  univerfal  love, 
Thou  fiill  dfjplor'ft  thy  abience  from  her.  face, 


Howc'er  averfe  to  thine.     But  fwift  relief 
From  indignation  borrow.     O»ll  to  mind 
Thy  injuries.    Th'  aufpicious  fortune  blefi, 
Which  led  thee  far  from  calumny  and  fraud, 
To  peace,  to  honour  in  the  Perfian  court. 

As  Demaratus  with,  a  grateful  mind 
His  anfwer  was  preparing,  Perlia's  king 
Stern  interrupted.     Soon  as  morning  fhines, 
Do  you,  Tigranes  and  Phraortes,  head     [bound. 
The  Medes  and  Ciffians.     Bring   thefe  Grecians 

This  laid,  the  monarch  to  his  camp  returns. 
Th'  attendant  princes  reafcend  their  cars, 
Save.Hyperanthes,  by  the  Carian  queen 
Detain'd,  who  thus  began.     Impartial,  brave, 
Nurs'd  in  a  court,  yet  virtuous,  let  my  heart 
To  thee  its  feelings  undifguis'd  reveal. 
Thou  hear'ft  thy  royal  brother.'    He  demands 
Thefe  Grecians  bound.     Why  Hops  his  mandate 

there  ? 

Why  not  command  the  mountains  to  remove, 
Or  fink  to  level  plains.     Yon  Spartans  view, 
Their  weighty  arms,  their  countenance.   To  die 
My  gratitude  inftructs  me  in  the  caufe 
Of  our  imperial  matter.     To  lucceed 
Is  not  within  the  ftiadow  of  my  hopes 
At  this  dire  pafs.     What  evil  genius  fways? 
Tigranes,  falfe  Argeftes,  and  the  reft 
In  name  a  council,  ceafelefs  have  oppos'd 
My  dictates,  oft  repeated  in  defpight 
Of  purple  flatt'rers,  to  embark  a  force, 
Which,  pouring  on  Laconia,  might  confine 
Thefe  fons  of  valour  to  their  own  defence. 
Vain  are  my  words.     The  royal  ear  admits 
Their  found  alone  ;  while  adulation's  notes 
In  fyren  fweetnefs  penetrate  his  heart, 
There  lodge  enfnaring  mifchief.     In  a  figh 
To  her  the  prince.     O  faithful  to  thy  lord, 
Difcrcet  advifer,  and  in  action  firm, 
What  can  I  anfwer  ?  My  afflicted  foul 
Muft  feck  its  refuge  in  a  feeble  hope. 
Thou  mayft  he  partial  to  thy  Doric  race, 
Mayft  magnify  our  danger.     Let  me  h(»pe, 
What  e'er  the  danger,  if  extreme,  believe, 
That  Hyperanthes  for  his  prince  can  bleed 
Not  with  lefs  zeal,  than  Spartans  for  their  laws. 

They  feparate.     To  Xerxes  he  repairs. 
The  queen,   furrounded  by  the  Carian  guard, 
Stays  and  retraces  witb.  fagaciousken 
The  deiHn'd  field  of  war,  the  vary'd  fpace, 
Its  depth,  its  confines  both  of  hill  and  lea. 
Meantime  a  fcene  more  fplendid  hath  allur'd 
Her  fon's  attention.     His  tranfported  fight 
With  ecftafy  like  worfhip  long  purfues 
The  pomp  of  Xerxes  in  retreat,  the  throne, 
Which  fhow'd  their  idol  to  the  nations  round, 
The  bounding  fleeds,  caparifon'd  in  gold, 
The  plumes,  the  chariots,  flandards.     He  excites 
Her  care,  exprefs'd  in  thefe  pathetic  drains. 

Look  on  the  king  with  gratitude.     His  fire 
Protected  thine.     Himfelf  upholds  our  ftatc. 
By  loyalty  inflexible  repay 
The  obligation.     To  immortal  pow'rs 
The  adoration  of  thy  foul  confine ; 
And  look  undazzled  on  the  pomp  of  man 
Mod  weak,  when  higheft.    Then  the  jealous  gods 
Watch  to  fupplant  him.  They  his  paths,  his  courts, 
His  chambers  fill  with  flatt'ry'spois'nous  fwarau, 
Whole  honey  Id  bane,  by  kingly  pride  dcvour'd,, 


THE   WORKS   OF    GLOVER. 


Confumes  the  health  of  kingdoms.     Here  the  boy 
By  an  attention,  which  furpafs'd  his  years, 
Unlocks  her  inmoft  bofom.     Thrice  accurs'd 
Be  thofe,  th'  indignant  heroine  purfues, 
Thofe  who  have  tempted  their  imperial  lord 
To  that  prcpoft'rous  arrogance,  which  call 
Chains  in  the  deep  to  manacle  the  waves, 
Chaftis'd  with  ftripes  in  heav'ns  offended  fight 
The  Hellefpont,  and  fondly  now  demands 
The  Spartans  bound.     O  child,  my  foul's  delight, 
Train'd  by  my  care  to  equitable  fway, 
And  imitation  of  the  gods  by  deeds 
To  merit  their  protection,  heed  my  voice. 
They,  who  alone  can  tame,  or  fwell  the  floods, 
Compofe  the  winds,  or  guide  their  ftrong  career, 
O'erwhelming  human  greatnefs,  will  confound 
Such  vanity  in  mortals.     On  our  fleet 
Their  indignation  hath  already  fall'n. 
Perhaps  our  boafted  army  is  prepar'd 
A  prey,  for  death  to  vindicate  their  pow'r. 
This  faid,  a  curious  fearch  in  ev'ry  part 
Here  eye  renews.     Adjoining  to  the  ftreights, 
Frefh  bloom'd  a  thicket  of  entwining  fhrubs; 
A  feeming  fence  to  fome  fequefter'd  ground, 
By  travellers  unbeaten,     Swift  her  guards 
Addrefs'd  their  fpears  to  part  the  pliant  boughs. 
Held  back,  they  yield  a  paffage  to  the  queen, 
And  princely  boy.     Delicious  to  their  fight 
Soft  dales  meandring,  fhow  their  flow'ry  laps 
Among  rude  piles  of  nature.     In  their  fides 
Of  rock  are  manfions  hewn ;  nor  loadcn  trees 
Of  clufter'd  fruit  are  wanting  :  but  no  found, 
Except  of  brooks  in  murmur,  and  the  fong 
Of  winged  warblers,  meets  the  lift'ning  ear. 
No  grazing  herd,  no  flock,  nor  human  form 
Is  feen,  no  careful  hufband  at  his  toil, 
Befide  her  threshold  no  induftrious  wife, 
No  playful  child.     Instructive  to  her  fon 
The  princefs  then.  Already  thefe  abodes 
Are  defolate.  Once  happy  in  their  homes 
Th'  inhabitants  forfake  them.  Pleafing  fcene 
Of  nature's  bounty,  foon  will  favage  Mars 
Deform  the  lovely  ringlets  of  thy  Ihrubs, 
And  coarfcly  pluck  thy  violated  fruits 
Unripe;  will  deafen  with  his  clangour  fell 
Thy  tuneful  choirs.  1  mourn  thy  deftin'd  fpoil, 
Yet  come  thy  firft  defpoiler.  Captains,  plant, 
Ere  morning  breaks,  my  fecret  ftandard  here. 
Gome,  boy,  away.  Thy  fafety  will  I  truft 
To  Demaratus;  while  thy  mother  tries 
With  thefe  her  martial  followers,  what  fparks, 
Left  by  our  Doric  fathers,  yet  inflame 
Their  fons  and  daughters  in  a  ftern  debate 
With  other  Dorians,  who  have  never  breath'd 
The  foft'ning  gales  of  Afia,  never  bow'd 
In  forc'd  allegiance  to  Barbarian  thrones. 
Thou  heed  my  order.  Thofe  ingenuous  looks 
Of  difcontent  fupprcfs.   For  thee  this  fight 
Were  too  fevere  a  leflbn.  Thou  might'ft  bleed 
Among  the  thoufands,  fated  to  expire 
By  Sparta's  lance.  Let  Artemifia  die, 
Ye  all-difpofing  rulers,  but  protect 
Her  fon.  She  ceas'd.  The  lionefs,  who  reigns 
Queen  of  the  foreft,  terrible  in  ftrength, 
And  prone  to  fury,  thus  by  nature  taught, 
Melts  o'er  her  young  in  blandifhment  and  love. 

Now  flowly  tow'rds  the  Perfian  camp  her  fteps 
In  filence  flae  directed  ;  when  a  voice, 


Sent  from  a  rock,  acceflible  which  feem'd 
To  none,  but  featber'd  paflengers  of  air, 
3y  this  reproof  detain'd  her.    Caria's  queen 
Art  thou,  to  Greece  by  Doric  blood  ally'd  ? 
Som'ft  thou  to  lay  her  fruitful  meadows  wade, 
Thou  homager  of  tyrants  ?     Upward  gaz'd 
Th'  aftonifli'd  princefs.     Lo  !   a  female  fhape, 
Tall  and  majeftic,  from  th'  impendent  ridge 
Look'd  awful  down.     A  holy  fillet  bound 
Her  graceful  hair,  loofe  flowing.     Seldom  wept 

reat  Artemifia.     Now  a  fpringing  tear 
Between  her  eyelids  gleam'd.      Too   true,    (he 

figh'd, 

A  homager  of  tyrants !  Voice  auftere, 
And  prefence  half  divine  !  Again  the  voice. 

O  Artemifia,  hide  thy  Doric  fword. 
Let  no  barbarian  tyrant  through  thy  might, 
Thy  counfels,  valiant  as  thou  art  and  wife, 
Confume  the  holy  fanes,  deface  the  tombs, 
Subvert  the  laws  of  Greece,  her  fons  enthral. 

The  queen  made  no  reply.     Her  breaft-plate 

heav'd. 

The  tremulous  attire  of  cov'ring  mail 
Confefs'd  her  ftruggle.     She  at  length  exclaim'd. 

Olympian  thund'rer,  from  thy  neighb'ring  hill 
Of  facred  oaths  remind  me  !     Then  afide 
She  turns  to  fhun  that  majefty  of  form, 
In  folernn  founds  upbraiding.     Torn  her  thoughts 
She  feels.     A  painful  conflict  (he  endures 
With  recollection  of  her  Doric  race  ; 
Till  gratitude,  reviving,  arms  her  bread. 
Her  royal  benefactor  Hie  recals, 
Back  to  his  fight  precipitates  her  fteps. 


BOOK  V. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

LEONIDAS,  rifing  by  break  of  day,  hears  the  inteU 
ligence  which  Agis  and  Melibceus  bring  from  the 
upper  pafs,  then  commands  a  body  of  Arcadians, 
with  the  Platasans  and  Thefpians,  to  be  drawn 
out  for  battle,  under  the  conduct  of  Demophi- 
his,  in  that  part  of  Thermopyias  which  lies 
dole  to  the  Phocian  wall,  from  whence  he  ha 
rangues  them.  The  enemy  approaches.  Diome- 
don  kills  Tigranes  in  fingle  combat.  Both  ar 
mies  join  battle.  Bithyrambus  kills  Phraor- 
tes.  The  Perfians,  entirely  defeated,  are  purfu- 
ed  by  Demophilus  to  the  extremity  of  the  pafs. 
The  Arcadians,  inconfiderately  advancing  be 
yond  it,  fall  into  an  ambufh,  which  Artemifia 
had  laid  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  Perfians. 
She  kills  Clonius,  but  is  herfelf  repulfed  by  De- 
mophilus.  Diomedon  and  Dithyrambus  give 
chafe  to  her  broken  forces  over  the  plains,  in  the 
fight  of  Perfia's  camp,  whence  fhe  receives  no 
afliftance.  She  rallies  a  fmall  body,  and,  facing 
the  enemy,  difables  Dithyrambus  by  a  blow  on 
his  helmet.  This  puts  the  Grecians  into  fome 
confufion,  and  gives  her  an  opportunity  of  pre- 
ferving  the  remainder  of  her  Carians  by  a  time 
ly  retreat.  She  gains  the  camp,  accufes  Argcf- 
tes  of  treachery,  but  pacified  by  Demaratus,  is 
accompanied  by  him  with  a  thoufand  horfe,  to 
collect  the  dead  bodies  of  her  foldiers  for  fe- 
pulchre. 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


AVROKA  dawnM.  Leonidas  arofe. 
With  Melibocus  Agis,  now  returned, 
Addrefs'd  the  king.  Along  the  mountain's  fide 
We  bent  our  journey.  On  our  way  a  voice, 
Loud  from  a  crag,  on  Melibceus  call'd. 
He  look'd  and  anfwrer'd.  Mycon,  ancient  friend  ! 
Far  haft  thou  driv'n  thy  bearded  train  to-day  ; 
But  fortunate  thy  prefence.  None  like  thee, 
Inhabitant  of  Oeta  from  thy  birth, 
Can  furnifli  that  intelligence,  which  Greece 
Wants  for  her  fafety.  Mycon  fhow'd  a  track. 
We  mounted  high.  The  fummit  where  we  ftopp'd, 
Gave  to  the  fight  a  profpect  wide  o'er  hills, 
O'er  dales  and  forefts,  rocks,  and  dafhing  floods 
In  cataracts.  The  object  of  ourfearch 
Beneath  us  lay,  the  fecret  pafs  to  Greece, 
Where  not  five  warriors  in  a  rank  can  tread. 
We  thence  defcended  to  the  Phocian  camp, 
Befet  with  fcatter'd  oaks,  which  rofe  and  tpread 
In  height  and  ihade  ;  on  whofe  fuftaining  boughs 
Were  hung  in  fnowy  folds  a  thoufand  tents, 
Containing  each  a  Phocian  heavy-mail'd, 
With  two  light-weapon'd  menials.    Northward 

ends 

The  vale,  contracted  to  that  narrow  ftreight, 
Which  firft  we  faw  with  Mycon.  Prudent  care 
Like  yours  alleviates  mine,  well  pleas'd  the  king 
Reply 'd.  Now,  Agis,  from  Arcadia's  bands 
Select  a  thou  fand  fpears.  To  them  unite 
The  Thefpians  and  Platseana.   Draw  their  lines 
Beneath  the  wall,  which  fortifies  the  pals. 
There,  clofe  embody'd,  will  their  might  repulfe 
The  num'rous  foe.     Demophilus  falute. 
Approv'd  in  martial  fervice  him  I  name 
The  chief  fupreme.     Obedient  to  his  will 
Th'  appointed  warriors,  iffuing  from  the  tents, 
Fill  their  deep  files,  and  watch  the  high  command. 
So  round  their  monarch,  in  his  ftormy  hill, 
The  winds  affernble.  From  his  dufky  throne 
His  dreadful  mandates  ^Eolus  proclaims 
To  fwell  the  main,  or  heav'n  with  clouds  deform, 
Or  bend  the  foreft  from  the  mountain's  brow. 
Laconia's  leader  from  the  rampart's  height 
To  battle  thus  the  lift'ning  hoft  inflames. 

This  day,  O  Grecians,  countrymen,  and  friends, 
Your  wives,  your  offspring,  your  paternal  feats, 
Your  parents,  country,  liberty,  and  laws, 
Demand  your  fwords.  You  gen'rous,  active,  brave, 
Vers'd  in  the  various  difcipline  of  Mars, 
Are  now  to  grapple  with  ignoble  foes 
In  wrar  unikilful,  nature's  bafeft  drofs, 
And  thence  a  monarch's  mercenary  Haves. 
Relax'd  their  limbs,  their  fpirits  are  deprav'd 
By  eaftern  floth  and  pleafures.  Hire  their  caufe, 
Their  only  fruit  of  victory  is  fpoil. 
They  know  not  freedom,  nor  its  lib'ral  cares. 
Such  is  the  flow'r  of  Afia's  hoft.  The  reft, 
Who  fill  her  boafted  numbers,  are  a  crowd, 
Forc'd  from  their  homes;  a  populace  in  peace 
By  jealous  tyranny  difarm'd,  in  war 
Their  tyrant's  victims.  Taught  in  pafilve  grief 
To  bear  the  rapine,  cruelty,  and  fpurns 
Of  Xerxes'  mercenary  band,  they  pine 
In  fervitude  to  flaves.  With  terror  founds 
The  trumpet's  clangaur  in  their  trembling  ears. 
Unwonted  loads,  the  buckler  and  the  lance 
Their  hands  fultain,  enpumber'd,  and  prcfent 


The  mockery  of  war. — —But  ev'ry  eye 
hoots  forth  impatient  flames.  Your  gallant  breafts 
Too  long  their  fweliing  fpirit  have  confiu'd. 

o  then,  ye  Ions  of  liberty  ;  go,  fweep 
Thefe  bondmen  from  the  field.  Refiftlefs  rend 
The  glitt'ring  ftandard  from  their  fervile  grafp. 
Hurl  to  the  ground  their  ignominious  heads, 
The  warrior's  helm  profaning.  Think,  the  lhades 
Of  your  forefathers  lift  their  facred  brows, 
Here  to  enjoy  the  glory  of  their  Ions. 

He  fpake.  Loud  paeans  ifl'ue  from  the  Greeks. 
In  fierce  reply  barbarian  fhouts  afcend 
From  hoftile  nations,  thronging  down  the  pafs. 
Such  is  the  roar  of  ./Etna,  when  his  mouth 
Difplodescombuftion  from  his  fulph'rous  depth?, 
To  blaft  the  fmiles  of  nature.     Dauntlefs  ftood, 
In  deep  array  before  the  Phocian  wall 
The  phalanx,  wedg'd  with  implicated  fhields. 
And  fpears  protended,  like  the  graceful  range 
Of  arduous  elms,  whofe  interwoven  boughs 
Before  Ibme  rural  palace,  wide  expand, 
Their  venerable  umbrage  to  retard 
The  north's  impetuous  wing.  As  o'er  the  main, 
In  lucid  rows,  the  rtfing  waves  reflect 
The  fun's  effulgence  ;  fo  the  Grecian  helms 
Return'd  his  light,  which  o'er  their  convex  pour'J 
A  Iplendour,  fcatter'd  through  the  dancing  plumes* 

Down  ruih  the  foes.  Exulting  in  their  van, 
Their  haughty  leader  (hakes  his  threat'ning  lande, 
Provoking  battle.  Inftaut  from  his  rank 
Dioraedoii  burfti  furious.  On  he  ftrides. 
Confronts  Tigranes,  whom  he  thus  defies. 

Now  art  thou  met,  barbarian.  Wouldft  thou 

prove 

Thy  actions  equal  to  thy  vaunts,  command 
Thy  troops  to  halt,  while  thou  and  I  engage. 

Tigranes,  turning  to  the  Perfians,  fpake. 
My  friends  and  ibldiers,  check  your  martial  hafte , 
While  my  ftrong  lance  that  Grecian's  pride  con 
founds. 

He  ceas'd.  In  dreadful  oppofition  foon 
Each  combatant  advanc'd.  Their  finewy  hands 
Grip'd  faft  their  fpears,  high  brandifh'd.     Thrice 

they  drove, 

With  well-directed  force,  the  pointed  fteel 
At  cither's  throat,  and  thrice  their  wary  fhields 
Repell'd  the  menac'd  wound.  The  Alian  chief 
At  length,  with  pow'rs  collected  for  the  ftvoke, 
His  weapon  rivets  in  the  Grecian  targe. 
Afide  Diornedon  inclines,  and  ihuns 
Approaching  fate  ;  then  all  his  martial  ftull 
Undaunted  fummons.    His  forfaken  fpear 
Befide  him  caft,  his  faulchion  he  unmeath*. 
The  blade,  defcending  on  Tigranes'  arm, 
That  inftant  ftruggling  to  redeem  bis  lance, 
The  nervous  hand  diflevers.     Pale  affright 
Unmans  the  Perfian  ;  while  his  active  foe 
Full  on  his  neck  difcharg'd  the  rapid  fworj, 
Which  open'd  wide  the  purple  gates  of  death. 
Low  finks  Tigranes  in  eternal  (hade. 
His  proftrate  limbs  the  conqueror  beftrides; 
Then  in  a  tuft  of  blood-diftilling  hair 
His  hand  entwining,  from  the  mangled  trunk 
The  head  disjoins,    and  whirls  with  matchlcfs 

Itrength 

Among  the  adverfe  legions.     All  in  dread 
Kecoil'd,  whijrt'er  the  ghallly  viuge  flew 


THE    WORKS   OF    GLOVER. 


In  fanguine  circles,  and  purfu'd  its  track 
Of  horror  through  the  air.    Not  more  amaz'd, 
A  barb'rous  nation,  whom  the  cheerful  du.wn 
Of  fcience  ne'er  ilhimin'd,  view  on  high 
A  meteor,  waving  its  portentous  fires ; 
Where  oft,  as  fuperftition  vainly  dreams, 
Some  liemon  Qts  amid  the  baneful  blaze, 
Difperfing  plague  and  defolatiou  round. 
A  while  the  ftern  Diomedon  remain 'd 
Triumphant  o'er  the  dire  duinay,  which  froze 
The  heart  of  Perfia;  then  with  haughty  pace 
In  fallen  joy  among  his  gladfome  friends 
Refum'd  his  ftatioo.    Still  the  hoilile  throng 
In  confternation  motionlefs  fufpend 
The   charge.     Their  drooping  hearts  Phraortes 
warms. 

Heav'a  !  can  one  leader's  fate  appal  tins  hoft, 
Which  counts  a  train  of  princes  for  its  chiefs  ? 
Behold  Phraortes.    From  Niphates'  ridge 
I  draw  my  fubjedt  files.    My  hardy  toil 
Through  pathlefs  woods  and  deferts  hath  explor'd 
The  tiger's  cavern.    This  unconquer'd  hand 
Hath  from  the  lion  rent  his  fhaggy  hide. 
So  through  this  field  of  flaughter  will  I  chafe 
Yon  vaunting  Greek.    His  ardent  words  revive 
Declining  valour  in  the  van.    His  lance 
Then  in  the  rear  he  brandifhes.   The  crowd 
Before  his  threat'ning  ire,  affrighted,  roll 
Their  numbers  headlong  on  the  Grecian  fteel. 
Thus  with  his  trident  ocean's  angry  god 
From  their  vail  bottom  turns  the  mighty  mafs 
Of  waters  upward,  and  o'erwhelms  the  beach. 

Tremendous  frown'd  the  fierce  Platsean  chkf 
Full  in  the  battle's  front.    His  ample  fhield 
Like  a  ftror.g  bulwark  prominent  he  rais'd 
Before  the  line.    There  thunder'd  all  the  ftorm 
Of  darts  and  arrows.    His  undaunted  train 
In  emulating  ardour  charg'd  the  foe. 
Where'er  they  turn'd  the  formidable  fpeafs, 
Which  drench'd  the  glebe  of  Marathon  in  blood, 
Barbarian  dead  lay  heap'd.    Diomedon 
Led  on  the  flaughter.    From  his  nodding  ••eft 
The  fable  plumes  fhook  terror.    Afia's  hoft 
Shrunk  back,  as  blafted  by  the  piercing  beams 
Of  that  unconquerable  fword,  which  fell 
With  lightning's  fwiftnefs  on  diffever'd  helms, 
And,  menacing  Tigranes'  doom  to  all, 
Their  multitude  difpers'd.    The  furious  chief, 
Encompafb'd  round  by  carnage,  and  befmear'd 
With  fanguine  drops,  enflames  his  warlike  friends. 

O  Dithyrambus,  let  thy  deeds  this  day 
Surmount  their  wonted  luftre.    Thou  in  arms, 
Demophilv.s,  worn  gray,  thy  youth  recal. 
Behold,  thefe  flaves  without  refiftance  bleed. 
Advance,  my  hoary  friend.    Propitious  fame 
Smiles  on  thy  years.    She  grants  thy  aged  hand 
To  pluck  frefh  laurels  for  thy  honour'd  brow. 

As,  when  endu'd  with  Promethean  heat, 
The  tnolten  clay  refpir'd;  a  fudden  warmth 
Glows  in  the  venerable  Thefpian's  veins ; 
In  cv'ry  finew  new-born  vigour  fvvtlls. 
His  falchion,  thund'ring  on  Cherafmes'  helm, 
The  forehead  cleaves.    Echatana  to  war 
Sent  forth  Cherafmes.    From  her  potent  gates 
He  proud  in  hope  her  fwarming  numbers  led. 
Him  Ariazus  and  Peucefles  joiu'd, 
His  martial  brothers.    They  attend  his  fate, 
By  Dithyrambus  pierc'd.   Their  hoary  figs 


Shall  o'er  his  folitary  palace  roam  ; 
^amenting  loud  his  childlels  years,  fhull  curfe 
Ambition's  fury,  and  the  luft  of  war, 
I'hen,  pining,  bow  in  atiguifh  to  the  grave. 
Next  by  the  fierce  Pkuxan's  fatal  iword 
Expir'd  Damates,  once  the  hoft  and  friend 
Of  fall'n  Tigranes.    By  his  fide  to  fight 
He  left  his  native  bands.    Of  Syrian  birth 
In  Daphne  he  rclided  near  the  grove, 
Whofe  hofpitable  laurels  in  their  (hade 
Conceal'd  the  virgin  fugitive  averfe 
To  young  Apollo.    Hither  fhe  retir'd 
Far  from  her  parent  ftream.    Here  fables  feign, 
Herfelf  a  laurel  chang'd  her  golden  hair         * 
To  verdant  leaves  in  this  retreat,  the  grove 
Of  Daphne  call'd,  the  feat  of  rural  Mil's, 
Fann'd  by  the  breath  of  zephyrs,  and  with  rills 
From  bubbling  founts  irriguous,  Syria's  boaft, 
The  happy  rival  of  Theffalia's  vale, 
Now  hid  for  ever  from  Dainates'  eyes. 

Demophilus,  wife  leader,  foon  improves 
Advantage.    All  the  vet'rans  of  his  troop, 
In  age  his  equals,  to  condenfe  the  files, 
To  rivet  clofe  their  bucklers  he  commands. 
As  fome  broad  veffel,  heavy  in  her  ftrength, 
But  well-compacted,  when  a  fav'ring  gale 
Invites  the  Jkilful  mafter  to  expand 
'Fhe  fails  at  large,  her  flow  but  fteady  courfc 
Impels  through  myriads  of  dividing  waves ; 
So,  unrefifled,  through  Barbarian  throngs 
The  hoary  phalanx  pafs'd.    Arcadia's  fons 
Purfu'd  more  fwift.    Gigantic  Clonius  prefs'd 
The  yielding  Perfians,  who  before  him  funk, 
Crufh'd  like  vile  ftubble  underneath  the  fteps 
Of  fomc  glad  peafaflt,  vifiting  his  fields 
Of  new-morn  harveft.    On  the  gen'ral  rout 
Phraortes  look'd  intrepid  ftill.    He  fprang 
O'er  hills  of  carnage  to  confront  the  foe. 
His  own  inglorious  friends  he  thus  reproach'd. 
Fly  then,  ye  cowards,  and  defert  your  chief. 
Yet  fingle  here  my  target  fhall  oppofe 
The  fhock  of  thoufands.    Raging,  he  impels 
His  deathful  point  through  ArifUnder's  breaft. 
Him  Dithyrambus  lov'd.    A  facred  bard, 
Rever'd  for  juftice^  for  his  verferenown'd, 
He  fung  the  deeds  of  heroes,  thofe  who  fell, 
Or  thofc  who  conquer'd  in  their  country's  caufe, 
Th'  enraptur'd  foul  infpiring  with  die  love 
Of  glory,  carn'd  by  virtue.    His  high  flrain 
The  mufes  favour'd  from  their  neignb'ring  bow'r*3 
And  blel's'd  with  heav'nly  melody  his  lyre. 
No  more  from  Thefpia  fhall  his  feet  afcend 
The  fhady  fleep  of  Helicon  ;  n<3  more 
The  ftream  divine  of  Aganippe's  fount 
Bedew  his  lip  harmonious  :  nor  his  hands, 
Which,  dying,  grafp  the  uuforfaken  lance, 
And  proftrate  buckler,  evermore  accord 
His  lofty  numbers  to  the  founding  fhell. 
Lo  !  Dithyrambus  weeps.    Amid  the  rage 
Of  war  and  conquefl  fwiftly-gufhing  tears 
Find  one  fad  moment's  interval  to  fall 
On  his  pale  friend.    But  foon  the  victor  proves 
His  ftern  revenge.    Through  fhield  and  corfelec 

plung'd, 

His  forceful  blade  divides  the  Perfian's  chefi; 
Whence  iffue  ftreams  of  royal  blood,  deriv'd 
From,anceftors,  who  fway'd  in  Ninus  old 
Th'  Affyrian  fceptre.  He  to  Xerxe^' 


LE  ONID  AS. 


A  tributary  fttrap  rul'd  the  vale*, 
Where  Tigris  1'wift  between  the  parted  hills 
Of  tall  Ni]>hafcs  drew  his  foamy  tide, 
Impregnating  the  meads.    Phraortes  finks, 
Not  inftantly  expiring.    Still  his  eyes 
Flaih  indignation,  while  the  Perfians  fly. 

Beyond  the  Malian  entrance  of  the  llrcights 
Th'  Arcadians  rulh ;  when,  uuperceiv'd  till  felt, 
Spring  from  concealment  in  a  thicket  deep 
New  fwarms  of  warriors,  clulVring  on  the  flank 
Of  thefe  unwary  Grecians.   Tow'rds  the  bay 
They  {brink ;  they  totter  on  the  fearful  edge, 
Which  overhangs  a  precipice.    Surpris'd, 
The  ftrength  of  Cloniu^uls.    His  giant  bulk 
Beneath  the  chieftain  ofro'  affiiling  band 
Falls  proftratc.    Thefpians  and  Platxans  wave 
Auxiliar  enfigns.    They  encounter  foes, 
Refembling  Greeks  in  difcipline  and  arms. 
Dire  is  the  fhock.    What  lefs,  than  Caria's  queen 
In  their  career  of  victory  could  check 
Such  warriors?    Fierce  fhe  flruggles;  while  the 

rout 

Of  Medes  and  Ciflians  carry  to  the  camp 
Contagious  terror;  thence  no  fuccour  flows. 
Demophilus  Hands  firm  ;  the  Carian  band 
At  length  recoil  before  him.    Keen  purfuit 
He  leaves  to  others,  like  th'  almighty  fire, 
Who  fits  unfliakcn  on  his  throne,  while  floods, 
His  inflruments  of  wrath,  o'crwhelm  the  earth, 
And  whirlwinds  level  on  her  hills  the  growth 
Of  proudeft  cedars.    Through  the  yielding  crowd 
Platsea's  chief  and  Dithyrambus  range 
Triumphant  fide  by  fide.    Thus  o'er  the  field, 
Whfre  bright  Alpheus  heard  the  rattling  car, 
And  concave  hoof  along  his  echoing  banks, 
Two  gen'rous  courfers,  Knk'd  in  mutual  reins, 
In  fpeed,  in  ardour  equal,  beat  the  duft, 
To  reach  the  glories  of  Olympia's  goal. 
Th'  intrepid  heroes  on  the  plain  advance, 
They  prefs  the  Carian  rear.    Not  long  the  quren 
Endures  that  fhame.    Her  people's  dying  groans 
Tranfpierce  her  bofom.    On  their  bleeding  limbs 
She  looks  maternal,  feels  maternal  pangs. 
A  troop  (he  rallies.    Goddcfs-like  fhe  turns, 
Not  lefs  than  Pallas  with  her  Gorgon  fhicld. 
"Whole  ranks  flie  covers,  like  th'  imperial  bird 
Extending  o'er  a  neft  of  callow  young 
Her  pinion  broad,  and  pointing  fierce  her  beak, 
Her  claws  outflretch'd.    The  Thefpian's  ardent 

hand, 

Frt>m  common  lives  refraining,  hafles  to  fnatch 
More  fplendid  laurels  from  that  nobler  head. 
His  pond'rous  falchion,  fwift  defcending,  bears 
Her  Buckler  down,  thence  glancing,  cuts  the  thong, 
Which  holds  her  headpiece  fart.  That  golden  fence 
Drops  down.    Thick  treffes,  unconfin'd,  difclolc 
A  female  warrior ;  one  whofe  fummer  pride 
Of  fleeting  beauty  had  begun  to  fade, 
Yet  by  th*  heroic  character  fupply'd, 
Which  grew  more  awful,  as  the  touch  of  time 
Remov'd  the  foft'ning  graces.    Back  he  fteps, 
Unmann'd  by  wonder.    With  indignant  eyes, 
Fire-darting,  (he  advances.    Both  her  hands 
Full  on  his  creft  difcharge  the  furious  blade. 
The  forceful  blow  compels  him  to  recede 
Yet  further  back,  unwounded,  though  confui'd. 
His  foldiers  flock  around  him.    From  a  fcene 
©f  blowd  wore  diftant  fpeeds  Phtsa's  chief. 


The  fair  occafion  of  fufpended  fight 
She  feizes,  bright  in  glory  wheels  away, 
Arui  i'aves  her  Carian  remnant ;  while  his  friend 
In  fervent  founds  Diomedon  befpake. 

If  thou  art  flain,  I  curfe  this  glorious  day. 
Be  all  thy  trophies,  be  my  own  accurs'd. 

The  youth,  rccover'd,  anfwers  in  a  fniile. 
I  am  unhurt.    The  weighty  blow  proclaim'd 
The  queen  of  Caria,  or  Bellona's  arm. 
Our  longer  ftay  Demophilus  may  blame. 
Let  us  prevent  hi*  call.    This  faid,  their  fteps 
They  turn,  both  ftriding  through  empurpled  heaps 
Of  arms,  and  mangled  flain,  themfelves  with  gore 
Diftain'd,  like  two  grim  tigers,  who  have  forc'd 
A  nightly  manfion,  on  the  defert  rais'd 
By  fome  lone-wand'ring  traveller,  then  dy'd 
In  human  crim/on,  through  the  foreft  deep 
Back  to  their  covert's  dreary  gloom  retire. 

Stern  Artemifia,  fweeping  o'er  the  field, 
Burfts  into  Afia's  camp.    A  furious  look 
She  cafts  around.   Abrocomes  remote 
With  Hyperamhes  from  the  king  were  fent-. 
She  fees  Argeftes  in  that  quarter  chief, 
Who  from  battalions  numberlefs  had  fpar'd 
Not  one  to  fuccour,  but  his  malice  gorg'd 
With  her  diflrefs.    Her  anger  now  augments. 
Revenge  frowns  gloomy  on  her  darken'd  brow. 
He  cautious  moves  to  Xerxes,  where  he  fat 
High  on  his  car.    She  follows.   Loft  her  helm, 
Rcfign'd  to  fportive  winds  her  clufler'd  locks, 
Wild,  but  majeftic  like  the  waving  boughs 
Of  fbme  proud  elm,  the  glory  of  the  grove, 
And  full  in  foliage.    Her  emblazon'd  fhield 
With  gore  is  tarnifli'd.    Pale  around  are  feen 
All  faint,  all  ghaftly  from  repeated  wounds 
Her  bleeding  foldiers.    Brandifhing  her  fword. 
To  them  fhe  points,  to  Xerxes  thus  flie  fpeaks. 

Behold  thefe  mangled  Carians,  who  have  fpent 
Their  vital  current  in  the  kind's  defence, 
F.v'n  in  his  fight ;  while  Medes  and  Ciflians  fled, 
By  thefe  protected,  whom  Argeftes  faw 
Purfu'd  by  flaughtcr  to  thy  very  camp, 
Yet  left  unhelp'd  to  perifh.    Ruling  fire, 
Let  Horomazes  be  thy  name,  or  Jove, 
To  thee  appealing,  of  the  king  I  claim 
A  day  for  juftice.    Monarch,  tp  my  arm 
Give  him  a  prey.    Let  Artemifia's  truth 
Chaflife  his  treafon.    With  an  eye  fubmifs, 
A  mien  obfequious,  and  a  foothing  tone 
To  cheat  the  king,  to  moderate  her  ire 
Argefles  utters  thefe  fallacious  words. 

May  Horomazes  leave  the  fiend  at  large 
To  btaft  my  earthly  happhiefs,  confine 
Amid  the  horrors  of  his  own  abode 
My  ghoft  hereafter,  if  the  fucred  charge 
Of  Xerxes'  perfon  was  not  my  reftraint, 
My  fole  reftraint !  To  him  our  all  is  due, 
Our  all  how  trifling,  with  his  fafcty  weigh'd. 
His  prefervation  I  prefer  to  fame, 
And  bright  occafion  for  immortal  deeds 
Forego  in  duty.    Elfe  my  helpful  fword, 
Fair  heroine  of  Afia,  hadfl  thou  feen 
Among  the  foremoft  blazing.    Lo !  the  king 
A  royal  prefent  will  on  thee  beftow, 
Perfumes  and  precious  unguents  on  the  dead, 
A  golfk-n  \vreath  to  each  furvivor  brave. 

Aw'd  by  her  fpirit,  by  the  flatt'rers  fpell 
Deluded,  languid  through  4ifaiay  and  fhamc 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


At  his  defeat,  the  monarch  for  a  time 

Sat  mute,  at  length  unlock'  d  his  falt'ring  lips. 

Thou  hear'ft,  great  princefs.    Reft  content.    His 

words 

I  ratify.    Yet  farther,  I  proclaim 
Thee  of  my  train  firll  counfellor  and  chief. 

O  eagle-ey'd  difcernment  in  the  king  ! 

0  wifdom  equal  to  his  boundlefs  power  ! 
The  purpled  fycophant  exclaims.    Thou  feeft 
Her  matchlefs  taknts.    Wanting  her,  thy  fleet, 
The  floating  bulwark  of  our  hopes,  laments, 
Foil'd  in  her  abfence,  in  her  conduct  fafe. 
Thy  penetrating  fight  dire&s  the  field  ; 
There  let  her  worth  be  hazarded  no  more. 

Thy  words  are  wife,  the  blinded  prince  rejoins. 
Return,  brave  Carian,  to  thy  naval  charge. 

Thus  to  remove  her  from  the  royal  ear 
Malicious  guile  prevails.    Redoubled  rage 
Swells  in  her  bofom.    Dcmaratus  fees 
And  calms  the  ftorm  by  rend'ring  up  his  charge 
To  her  maternal  hand.    Her  fon  belov'd 
Difpels  the  furies.    Then  the  Spartan  thus  : 

O  Artemifia,  of  the  king's  command 
Be  thou  obfervant.    To  thy  flaughter'd  friends 
Immediate  care,  far  other  than  revenge, 
Is  due.    The  ravens  gather.    From  his  neft 
Among  thofe  clifts  the  eagle's  rapid  flight 
Denotes  his  fcent  of  carnage.    Thou,  a  Greek, 
"Well  know'ft  the  duty  facred  to  the  dead. 
Depart;  thy  guide  is  piety.    ColleA, 
For  honourable  fepulchres  prepare 
Thofe  bodies,  mark'd  with  honourable  wounds. 

1  will  aflift  thee.    Xerxes  will  intruft 

To  my  command  a  chofen  guard  of  horfe. 

As  oft,  when  ftorms  in  ftimmer  have  o'ercaft 
The  night  with  double  darknefs,  only  pierc'd 
By  heav'n's  blue  fire,  while  thunder  ihakes  the 

pole, 

The  orient  fun,  diffufing  genial  warmth, 
Refines  the  troubled  air  ;  the  blaft  is  mute  ; 
Death-pointed  ilames  diiperfe  ;  and  placid  Jove 
JLooks  down  in  fmiles:  fo  prudence  from  the  lips 
Of  Demaratus,  by  his  tone,  his  mien, 
His  afpe<Sl  ftrcngth'ning  fmooth  perfuafion's  flow, 
Compos'd  her  fpirit.    She  with  him  departs. 
The  king  afiigns  a  thoufand  horfe  to  guard 
Th'  illuftrious  exile,  and  heroic  dome. 


BOOK  VI. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

THE  Grecian  commanders,  after  the  purfuit,  retire 
for  refreflunent  to  a  cave  in  the  fide  of  mount 
Oeta.  Demophilus  returns  to  the  camp  ;  Dio- 
medon  remains  in  the  cave  ;  while  Dithyram- 
bus,  difcovering  a  paffage  through  it,  afcends  to 
the  temple  of  the  mufes.  After  a  long  difcourfe 
with  Melifla,  the  daughter  of  Oileus,  me  intrufts 
him  with  a  folemn  meifagc  to  Leonidas.  Dithy- 
rambus  deputes  this  charge  to  Megiftias,  the  au 
gur.  Leonidas,  recalling  the  forces,  firft  engag 
ed,  fends  down  a  frefli  body.  Diomedon  and 
Dithyrambus  are  permitted,  on  their  own  re- 
qucft,  to  continue  in  the  field  with  the  Platas- 
ans.  By  the  advice  of  Diomedon,  the  Grecians 
advance  to  the  broadeft  part  of  Therm  opylx, 
•where  they  form  a  line  of  twenty  hi  depth,  con 
fining  of  th;  Pkusanj,  Mantineaas,  Tegaeans, 


Thebans,  Corinthians,  Phliafians,  and  Myce- 
nxans.  The  Spartans  eompofe  a  fecond  line  in 
a  narrower  part.  Behind  them  are  placed  the 
light  armed  troops  under  Alphcus,  and  further 
back  a  phalanx  of  Locrians  under  Medon,  the 
fon  of  Oileus.  Dkneces  commands  the  whole. 

No  w  Dithyrambus  and  Plataea's  chief, 
Their  former  poft  attaining,  had  rejoin'd 
Demophilus.    Recumbent  on  his  ihield 
Phraortes,  gafping  there,  attracts  their  fight. 
To  him  in  pity  Thefpia's  gallant  youth 
Approaching,  thus  his  gen'rous  foul  exprefs'd. 

Liv'ft  thou,  brave  Perfian  ?  By  propitious  Jove, 
From  whom  the  plea  fin {Jlftream  of  mercy  flows 
Through  mortal  bofoms,  lefs  my  foul  rejoic'd, 
When  fortune  blefs'd  with  victory  my  arm, 
Than  now  to  raife  thee  from  this  field  of  death. 

His  languid  eyes  the  dying  prince  unclos'd, 
Then  with  expiring  voice.    Vain  man,  forbear 
To  proffer  me,  what  foon  thyfelf  mnfl  crave. 
The  day  is  quite  extinguifh'd  in  thefe  orbs. 
One  moment  fate  allows  me  to  difdain 
Thy  mercy,  Grecian.    Now  I  yield  to  death. 

This  effort  made,  the  haughty  fpirit  fled. 
•So  fhoots  a  meteor's  tranfitory  gleam 
Through  nitrous  folds  of  bla»k  nodlurnal  clouds, 
Then  diflipates  for  ever.    O'er  the  corfc 
His  rev'rend  face  Demophilus  inclin'd, 
Pois'd  on  his  lance,  and  thus  addrefs'd  the  flain. 

Alas  !  how  glorious  were  that  bleeding  breaft, 
Had  juftice  brac'd  the  buckler  on  thy  arm, 
And  to  preferve  a  pe'eple  bade  thee  die. 
Who  now  fhall  mourn  thee !  Thy  ungrateful  king 
Will  foon  forget  thy  worth.    Thy  native  land 
May  raife  an  empty  monument,  but  feel 
No  public  forrow.   Thy  recorded  name 
Shall  wake  among  thy  countrymen  no  Cghs 
For  their  loft  hero.    What  to  them  avail' d 
Thy  might,  thy  dauntlefs  fpirit  ?  Not  to  guard 
Their  wives,  their  offspring  from  th'  oppreflbr's 

hand; 

But  to  extend  opprefllon  didft  thou  fall, 
Perhaps  with  inborn  virtues  in  thy  foul, 
Which,  but  thy  froward  deftin/  forbade, 
By  freedom  cherifh'd,  might  have  blefs'd  mankind. 
All-bounteous  nature,  thy  impartial  laws 
To  no  felecled  race  of  men  confine 
The  fenfe  of  glory,  fortitude,  and  all 
The  nobler  paffions,  which  exalt  the  mind, 
And  render  life  illuftrious.    Thefe  thou  plant'ft. 
In  ev'ry  foil.    But  freedom  like  the  fun 
Mult  warm  the  gen'rous  feed?.    By  her  alone 
They  bloom,  they  flonrifh ;  while  oppreffion  blafts 
The  tender  virtues  :  hence  a  fpurious  growth, 
Falfe  honour,  favage  valour  taint  the  foul, 
And  wild  ambition  :  hence  rapacious  pow'r 
The  ravag'd  earth  unpeoples,  and  the  brave, 
A  feaft  for  dogs,  th'  enfanguin'd  field  beftrcw. 

He  faid.   Around  the  venerable  man 
The  warriors  throng'd  attentive.  Conqueft  hufh'd 
Its  joyful  tranfports.    O'er  the  horrid  field, 
Rude  fcene  fo  late  of  tumult,  all  was  calm. 
So,  when  the  fong  of  Thracian  Orpheus  drew 
To  Hebrus'  margin  from  their  dreary  feats 
The  favage  breed,  which  Hzmus,  wrapp'd  in 

clouds, 

Pangzus  cold,  and  Rhodopean  fnows 
In  blood  and  difcord  nnrs'd,  the  foothing  ftralp 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  3. 


Flow'd  with  enchantment  through  the  ra  vifh'd  ear, 
Their  fiercenefs  melted,  and,  amaz'd,  they  learn'd 
The  facred  laws  of  juftice,  which  the  bard 
Mix'd  with  the  mufic  of  his  heavenly  firing. 

Meantime  th'  Arcadians  with  inverted  arms 
And  banners,  fad  and  folemn  on  their  fhields 
The  giant  limbs  of  Cloniusbore  along 
To  fpread  a  gen'ral  woe.    The  noble  corfe, 
Dire  fpectacle  of  carnage,  paffing  by 
To  thofe  laft  honours,  which  the  dead  partake, 
Struck  Dithyrambus.    Swift  his  melted  eye 
Review'd  Phraortes  on  the  rock  lupine  ; 
Then  on  the  fage  Demophilus  he  look'd 
Intent,  and  fpake.    My  heart  retains  thy  \rords. 
This  hour  may  witnefs  how  rapacious  pow'r 
The  earth  unpeoples.    Clonius  is  no  more. 
But  he,  by  Greece  lamented,  will  acquire 
A  fignal  tomb.    This  gallant  Periian,  crufh'd 
Beneath  my  fortnne,  hath'd  in  blood  Hill  warm, 
May  lie  forgotten  by  his  thanklefs  king ; 
Yet  not  by  me  neglected  fhail  remain 
A  naked  corfe.    The  good  old  man  replies. 

My  gen'rous  child,  deferving  that  fuccefs 
Thy  arm  hath  gain'd  !  When  vital  breath  is  fled, 
Our  friends,  our  foes  are  equal  duft.    Both  claim 
The  fun'ral  paffage  to  that,  future  feat 
Of  being,  where  no  enmity  revives. 
There  Greek  and  Perfian  will  together  quaff 
In  amaranthine  how'rs  the  cup  of  blifs 
Immortal.    Him  thy  valour  flew  on  earth, 
In  that  blefs'd  region  thou  may'ft  find  a  friend. 

This  faid,  the  ready  Thefpians  he  commands 
To  lift  Phraortes  from  his  bed  of  death, 
Th'  empurpled  rock.     Outilretch'd    on  targets 

broad, 

Suftain'd  by  hands  late  hoftile,  now  humane, 
He  follows  Clonius  to  the  fun'ral  pyre. 

A  cave  not  diftant  from  the  Phocian  wall 
Through  Oeta's  cloven  fide  had  nature  form'd 
In  fpacious  windings.    This  in  mofs  fhe  clad ; 
O'er  half  the  entrance  downward  from  the  roots 
She  hung  the  fhaggy  trunks  of  branching  firs, 
To  heav  n's  hot  ray  impervious.    Near  the  mouth 
Relucent  kurels  fpread  before  the  fun 
A  broad  and  vivid  foliage.    High  above, 
The  hill  was  darken'd  by  a  folemn  made, 
Diffus'd  from  ancient  cedars.    To  this  cave 
Diomedon,  Demophilus  relbrt, 
And  Thefpia's  youth.    A  deep  recefs  appears, 
Cool  as  the  azure  grot,  where  Thetis  fleeps 
Beneath  the  vaulted  ocean.    Whifper'd  founds 
Of  waters,  trilling  from  the  riven  done 
To  feed  a  fountain  on  the  rocky  floor, 
In  pureft  ftreams  o'erflowing  to  the  fea, 
Allure  the  warriors  hot  with  toil  and  third 
To  this  retreat  fcrene.    Againlt  the  fides 
Their  difencumber'd  hands  repofe  their  fhields; 
The  helms  they  loofen  from  their  glowing  cheeks ; 
Propp'd  on  their  fpears,  they  reft ;  when  Agis 

brings 
From  Lacedemon's  leader  thefe  commands. 

Leonidas  recals  you  from  your  toils, 
Ye  meritorious  Grecians.    You  have  reap'd 
The  firft  bright  harveft  on  the  field  of  fame. 
Our  eyes  in  wonder  from  the  Phocian  wall 
On  your  unequall'd  deeds  mediant  gaz'd. 

To  whom  Platica's  chief.    Go,  Agis,  fay- 
To  Lacedeniou'i  ruicr,  that,  uiuir'd, 


Diomedon  can  yet  exalt  his  fpear, 
Nor  feels  the  armour  heavy  on  his  limbs. 
Then  (hall  I  quit  die  conteft  ?  Ere  he  finks, 
Shall  not  this  early  fun  again  behold 
The  flaves  of  Xerxes  tremble  at  my  lance, 
Should  they  adventure  on  a  frefh  aflault  ? 

To  him  the  Thefpian  youth.     My  friend,  my 

guide 

To  noble  actions,  fince  thy  gen'rous  heart 
Intent  on  fame  difdains  to  reft,  O  grant 
I  too  thy  glorious  labours  may  partake, 
May  learn  once  more  to  imitate  thy  deeds. 
Thou,  gentleft  Agis,  Sparta's  king  entreat 
Not  to  command  us  from  the  field  of  war. 

Yes,  pcrfevering  heroes,  he  reply'd, 
I  will  return,  will  Sparta's  king  entreat 
Not  to  command  you  from  the  field  of  war. 

Then  interpos'd  Demophilus.    O  friend, 
Who  lead'ft  to  conqueft  brave  Platxa's  fons ; 
Thou  too,  lov'd  offspring  of  the  deareft  man, 
Who  doft  reftore  a  brother  to  twy  eyes ; 
My  foul  your  magnanimity  applauds : 
But,  O  reflect,  that  unabating  toil 
Subdues  the  mightieft.    Valour  will  repine, 
When  the  weak  hand  obeys  the  heart  no  more. 
Yet  I,  declining  through  the  weight  of  years, 
Will  not  aflign  a  meafure  to  your  ftrength. 
If  ftill  you  find  your  vigour  undecay'd, 
Stay  and  augment  your  glory.    So,  when  time 
Calls  from  your  whiteu'd  heads  the  helm  afida  ; 
When  in  the  temples  your  enfeebled  arms 
Have  hung  their  confecrated  fhields,  the  land, 
Which  gave  you  life,  in  her  defence  employ'd, 
Shall  then  by  honours,  doubled  on  your  age, 
Bequit  the  gen'rous  labours  of  your  prime. 

So  fpake  the  fenior,  and  forfook  the  cave. 
But  from  the  fount  Diomedon  receives 
Th'  o'erflowing  waters  in  his  concave  helm, 
AddrefjSng  thus  the  genius  of  the  ftream. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  divinity  unftain'd 
Of  this  fair  fountain,  till  unfparing  Mars 
Heap'd  carnage  round  thee,  bounteous  are  thy 

ftreams 

To  me,  who  ill  repay  thee.    I  again 
Thy  filver-gleaming  current  muft  pollute, 
Which,  mix'd  with  gore,  ihall  tinge  the  Malian 
flime. 

He  faid,  and  lifted  in  his  brimming  cafque 
The  bright,  refrefhing  moifture.   Thus  repairs 
The  fpotted  panther  to  Hydafpes'  fide, 
Or  eailern  Indus,  feafted  on  the  blood 
Of  fome  torn  deer,  which  nigh  his  cruel  grafp 
Had  roam'd  unheeding  in  the  fecret  fliade  ; 
Rapacious  o'er  the  humid  brink  he  ftoops, 
And  in  the  pure  and  fluid  cryftal  cools 
His  reeking  jaws.    Meantime  the  Thefpian's  eye 
Roves  round  the  vaulted  fpace  ;  when  fuddea 

founds 

Of  mufic,  utter'd  by  melodious  harps, 
And  melting  voices,  diftant,  but  in  tones 
By  diftance  foften'd,  while  the  echoes  figh'd 
In  lulling  replication,  fill  the  vault 
With  harmony.    In  admiration  mute, 
With  nerves  unbrac'd  by  rapture,  he,  entranc'd, 
Stands  like  an  .eagle,  when  his  parting  plume* 
The  balm  of  fleep  relaxes,  and  his  wings 
Fall  from  his  languid  fide.    Platxu's  chief, 
Oblerving,  rous'd  the  warrior.   Son  of  Mara» 


THE   WORKS    OF    GLOVER. 


Shall  mufic'f  foftnefs  from  thy  bofom  fteal 
The  fenfe  of  glory  ?  From  iis  neighboring  camp 
Perhaps  the  Perfian  fends  frefli  nations  down. 
Soon  in  bright  fteel  Thermopylae  will  blaze. 
Awake.     Accuftom'd  to  the  clang  of  arms, 
Intent  on  vengeance  for  invaded  Greece, 
My  ear,  my  fpirit  in  this  hour  admit 
No  new  fenfation,  nor  a  change  of  thought. 

The  Thefpian,  ftarting  from  oblivious  floth 
Of  ravifliment  and  wonder,  quick  reply'd. 

Thefe  founds  were  more  than  human.     Hark  ! 

Again  I 

O  honour'd  friend,  no  adverfe  banner  ftreams 
In  fight.     No  fliout  proclaims  the  Perfian  freed 
From  his  late  terror.    Deeper  let  us  plunge 
In  this  myfterioiis  dwelling  of  the  nymphs, 
Whofe  voices  charm  its  gloom.     In  fmiles  re- 

join'd 

Diomedon.     I  fee  thy  foul  enthrall'd. 
Me  thou  would'ft  rank  among  th'  unletter'd  rout 
Of  yon  barbarians,  fhould  I  prefs  thy  ftay. 
Time  favours  too.     Till  Agis  be  return'd, 
We  cannot  adl.     Indulge  thy  eager  fearch. 
Here  will  I  wait,  a  centinel  unroov'd, 
To  watch  thy  coming.     In  exploring  hafte 
Th'  impatient  Thefpian  penetrates  the  cave. 
He  finds  it  bounded  by  a  fteep  afcent 
Of  nigged  fteps;  where  down  the  hollow  rock 
A  modulation  clear,  diftinfl  and  flow 
In  movement  folemn  from  a  lyric  firing, 
Diflblves  the  ftagnant  air  to  fweet  accord 
With  thefe  fonorous"  lays.     Celeftial  maids  ! 
While,  from  our  cliffs  contemplating  th?  war, 
We  celebrate  our  heroes,  O  impart 
Orphean  magic  to  the  pious  drain  ! 
That  from  the  mountain  we  may  call  the  groves, 
Swift  motion  through   thefe   marble  fragments 

breathe 

To  overleap  the  high  Oetaean  ridge, 
And  crsfh  the  fell  invaders  of  our  peace. 

The  animated  hero  upward  fprings 
light,  as  a  kindled  vapour,  which,  confin'd 
In  fubterranean  cavities,  at  length 
Pervading,  rives  the  furface  to  enlarge 
.The  long-imprifon'd  flame.     Afcendingfoon, 
lie  fees,  he  ftatids  abafh'd,  then  rev'rend  kneels. 

An  aged  temple  with  infculptur'd  forms 
Of  Jove's  harmonious  daughters,  and  a  train 
Of  nine  bright  virgins,  round  their  prieftefs  rang'd, 
Who  flood  in  awful  majefty,  receive 
His  unexpected  feet.     The  fong  is  hufh'd. 
The  meafur'd  movement  on  the  lyric  chord 
In  faint  vibration  dies.     The  prieftefs  fage, 
Whofe  elevated  port  and  afpecT:  rofe 
To  more,  than  mortal  dignity,  her  lyre 
Corifigning  graceful  to  attendant  hands, 
Looks  with  reproof.     The  Joofe,  uncover'd  hair 
Shades  his  inclining  forehead,  while  a  flufli 
Of  modeft  crimfon  dyes  his  youthful  cheek. 
Her  penfive  vifage  foftens  to  a  fmile 
On  worth  fo  blooming,  which  the  thus  accofts. 

I  fliould  reprove  thee,  inadvertent  youth, 
Who  through  the  fole  accefs,  by  nature  left 
To  this  pure  mar.fion,  with  intruding  fteps 
Doft  interrupt  our  lays.  But  rife.  Thy  1'word 
Perhaps  embelliflfd  that  triumphant  fcene, 
"Which  wak'd  thefe  harps  to  celebrating  notes. 


What  is  the  imprefi  on  thy  warlike  fiiield  ? 

A  golden  eagle  on  my  fliield  I  bear, 
Still  bending  low,  he  anfwers.     She  purfues. 

Art  thou  polfeHbr  of  that  glorious  orb, 
By  me  diftinguifh'd  in  the  late  defeat 
Of  Afia.  driven  before  thee  ?    Speak  thy  name. 
Who  is  thy  fire  ?   Where  lies  thy  native  feat  ? 
Com'ft,  rhou  for  glory  to  this  fatal  fpot, 
Or  frem  barbarian  violence  to  guard 
A  parent's  age,  a  fpoule,  and  tender  babes, 
Who  call  thee  father?  Humbly  he  again. 

I  am  of  Thefpia,  Dithyrambus  nam'd, 
The  fon  of  Harmatides.     Snatch'd  by  fate, 
He  to  his  brother,  and*  my  fecond  fire, 
Demophilus,  confign'd  me.     Thefpia's  fons 
By  him  are  led.     His  dictates  I  obey, 
Him  to  referable  ftrive.     No  infant  voice 
Calls  me  a  father.     To  the  nuptial  vow 
lama  ftranger,  and  among  the  Greeks 
The  leaft  entitled  to  thy  partial  praife. 

None  more  entitled,  interpos'd  the  dame. 
Deferving  hero,  thy  demeanour  fpeaks, 
It  juftifies  the  fame,  fo  widely  fpread, 
Of  Harmatides'  heir.     O  grace  and  piide1 
Of  that  fair  city,  which  the  mufes  love, 
Thee  an  acceptant  vifitant  I  hail 
In  this  their  ancient  temple.     Thou  flialt  view 
Their  facred  haunts.    Defcending  from  the  dome. 
She  thus  purfues.    Firft  know,  my  youthful  hours 
Were  exercis'd  in  knowledge.     Homer's  mufe 
To  daily  meditation  won  my  foul, 
With  my  young  fpirit  mix'd  undying  fparks 
Of  her  own  rapture.     By  a  father  fage 
Conducted,  cities,  manners,  men  I  law, 
Their  inftitutes  and  cuftoms.     I  return**!. 
The  voice  of  Locris  call'd  me  to  fuftain 
The  holy  function  here.     Now  throw  thy  fight 
Acrofs  that  meadow,  whofe  enliven'd  blades 
Wave  in  the  breeze,  and  gliften  in  the  fun 
Behind  the  hoary  fane.     My  bleating  train 
Are  nourifli'd  there,  a  fpot  of  plenty  fpar'd, 
From  this  furrounding  wildernefs.    .Remark 
That  fluid  mirror,  edg'd  by  fhrubs  and^ow'rs, 
Shrubs  of  my  culture,  flow'rs  by  Iris  drefs'd- 
Nor  pafs  that  fmiling  concave  on  the  hill, 
Whole  pointed  crag*  are  fpften'd  to  the  fight 
By  figs  and  grapes.     Shepaufes;  while  around 
His  eye,  delighted,  roves  in  more  delight 
Soon  to  the  fpot  returning,  where  (he  flood 
A  deity  in  femblance,  o'er  the  place 
Prefiding  awful,  as  Minerva  wife, 
Auguft  like  Juno,  like  Diana  pure, 
But  not  more  pure  than  fair.     The  beauteous 

lake, 

The  pines  wide-branching,  falls  of  water  clear, 
The  multifarious  glow  on  Flora's  lap 
Lofe  all  attraction,  as  her  gracious  lips 
Refume  their  tale.     In  folitude  remote 
Here  I  have  dwelt  contemplative,  ferene. 
Oft  through  the  rocks  refponfive  to  my  lyre, 
Oft  to  th'  Amphi<ftyons  in  aflembly  full,' 
When  at  this  flirine  their  annual  vows  they  pays 
In  meafur'd  declamation  I  repeat 
The  praife  of  Greece,  her  liberty  and  laws. 
From  me  the  hinds,  who  tend  their  wand'rin? 

goats 
In  thefe  rude  purlieus-,  modulate  their  pipes 


L  E  0  N  I  D  A  S. 


5*3 


To  TmoDther  cadf  nee,  Juftice  from  my  tongue 
DifTent;ons  calms,  which  ev'n  in  deferts  rend 
Th*  unquiet  heart  oi  man.     Now  furious  war 
My  careful  thoughts  engages,  which  delight 
To  help  the  free,  th'  oppreflor  to  confound. 
Thy  feet  aufpicious  fortune  hither  brings. 
In  thee  a  noble  meffenger  I  find. 
Go,  iu  thefe  words  Leonidas  addrefs, 
"  MelifTa,  prieftefs  of  the  tutfctul  nine, 
"  By  their  behefts  invites'  thy  honoured  feet 
"  To  her  divine  abode.     Thee,  firft  of  Greeks, 
"  To  conference  of  high  import  flie  calls." 

Th'  obedient  Thei'uian  down  the  holy  cave 
Returns.     His  fwiftnefs  fuddenly  prevents 
His  friend's  impatience,  who  falutes  him  thus. 

Let  thy  adventure  be  hereafter  told. 
Look  yonder.     Frefh  battalions  from  the  camp 
File  through  the  Phociaii  barrier  to  conftrudl 
Another  phalanx,  moving  tow'r  of  war, 
Which  icorns  the  ftrength  of  Alia.     Let  us  arm  ; 
That,  ready  Itation'd  in  the  glorious  van, 
We  may  fecure  permiffion  from  the  king 
There  to  continue,  and  renew  the  fight. 

That  inltant  brings  Megiftias  near  the  grot. 
To  Sparta's  phalanx  his  paternal  hand 
Was  leading  Menalippus.     Not  unheard 
By  Dithyrambus  in  their  flow  approach, 
The  father  warns  a  young  and  lib  ral  mind. 

Sprung  from  a  diftant  boundary  of  Greece, 
A  foreigner  in  Sparta,  cherifh'd  there, 
Tnftrr.cted,  honour'd,  nor  unworthy  held 
To  fight  for  Lacedemon  in  her  line 
Of  discipline  and  valour,  lo  !  my  fort, 
The  hour  is  come  to  prove  thy  gen'rous  heart : 
That  in  thy  hand,  not  ill-intrufted,  fhme 
The  fpear  arid  buckler  to  maintain  the  caufe 
Of  thy  protectrefs.     Let  thy  mind  recal 
Leonidas.     On  yonder  bulwark  plac'd, 
He  overlooks  the  battle  ;  he  difcerns 
The  bold  and  fearful.     May  the  gods  I  ferve, 
Grant  me  to  hear  Leonidas  approve 
My  fon  !  No  other  boon  my  age  implores. 

The  augur  paus'd.     The  animated  cheek 
Of  Menalippus  glows.     His  eager  look 
Pemands  the  fight.     This  ftruck  the  tender  fire, 
Who   tTien   with  moiften'd    eyes.     Remember 

too, 

A  father  fees  thy  danger.     Oh  !  ray  child, 
To  me  thy  honour,  as  to  thee  is  dear ; 
Yet  court  not  death.     By  ev'ry  filial  tie, 
By  all  my  fondnefs,  all  my  csres  I  fue  '. 
Amid  the  conflict:,  or  the  warm  purfuit, 
Still  by  the  wile  Dienec.es  abide. 
His  prudent  valour  knows  th*  unerring  paths 
Of  glory.     He  admits  thee  to  bis  fide. 
He  will  direct  thy  ardour.     Go They  part. 

Megiitias,  turning,  is  accofted  elms 
By  Dithyrambus.     Venerable  feer, 
So  may  that  fon,  whofe  merit  I  efleem, 
Whofe  precious  head  in  peril  I  would  die 
To  guard,  return  in  triumph  to  thybreaft, 
As  thou  deliver'ft  to  Laconia's  king 
A  high  and  folemn  meffage.     While  anew 
The  line  is  forming,  from  th'  embattled  field 
I  muft  not  ftray,  uncall'd.     A  facred  charge 
Through  hallow'd  lips  will  bell  approach  the 

king. 
Vol.  XL^  , 


The  Acarnanian  in  fufpenfe  remains 
And  filence.     Dithyrambus  quuk  relates 
Melifia's  words,  delcribes  the  holy  grot, 
Then  quits  th'  inllruifled  augur,  and  attends 
Diomedon's  loud  call.     That  fervid  chief 
Was  reairiitHing  his  diftinguilh'd  arms, 
Which,  as  a  fpiendid  recompenfe,  he  bore 
From  grateful    Athens,  for  achievements  bold  ; 
When  he  with  brave  Miltiacies  redeem'd 
Her  dames  from  Afian  flames.     The  iculpturM 

helm 

Enclos'd  his  manly  temples.    From  on  high 
A  four-fold  plumage  nodded  ;  while  beneath 
A  golden  dragon  with  eftulgeut  fcales, 
Itfelf  the  creit,  Ihor  terror.     Qn  his  arm 
He  brac'd  his  buckler.  ^  Bord'ring  on  the  rim, 
Gorgonian  ferpents  twfn'd.     Within,  the  form 
Of  Pallas,  martial  goddefs,  was  embofs'd. 
Low,  as  her  feet,  the  graceful  tunic  llow'd. 
Betwixt  two  griflins  on  her  helmet  Cat 
A  iphynx  with  wings  expanded;   while  the  face 
{   Of  dire  Medufaon  her  breaftplate  frown'd. 
One  hand  i'upportsa  javelin,  which  confounds 
I  he  pride  ot  kings.     The  other  leads  along 
\  blooming  virgin,  Victory,  whofe  brow 
A  wreath  encirles.     Laurels  flie  prefents; 
But  from  her  fliouiders  all  her  plumes  were  fliorn, 
In  favour'd  Athens  c  vrr  now  to  reit. 
This  dread  ot  Alia  ou  his  mig-hty  arm 
Diomedon  uprear'd..    He  Inatch'd  his  lance, 
Then  fpake  to  Dithyrambus.     See  my  friend, 
Alone  of  all  the  Grecians,  who  fuftain'd 
The  former  onfet,  inexhaufted  Itand 
Plataea's  fons.     They  well  may  keep  the  field, 
Who  with  unflaken'd  nerves  emiur'd  that  day, 
Which  faw  ten  myriads  of  Barbarians  driv'u 
Back  to  their  (hips,  and  Athens  left  fecure. 
Charge  in  our  line.     Amid  the  foremoft  rank 
Thy  valour  Hiall  be  plac'd  to  fliare  command, 
And  ev'ry  honour  with  Platrea's  chief. 

He  faid  BO  more,  but  tow'ids  the  Grecian  van 
Impetuous,  ardtnt  flrode.     Nor  flow  behind 
The  pride  of  Thefpia,  Dithyrambus  mov'd 
Like  youthful  Hermes  in  celeitial  arms , 
When  lightly  graceful  with  his  feather'd  feet 
Along  Scamander's  flow'ry  verge  he  pafs'd' 
To  aid  th'  incens'd  divinities  of  Greece      , 
Againft  the  Phrygian  tow'rs.     Their  eager  hade 
Soon  brings  the  heroes  to  tlT  embattling  ranks, 
Whom  thus  the  brave  Diomedon  exhorts. 

Not  to  contend,  but  vanquilh  are  ye  come. 
Here  in  the  blood  of  fugitives  your  fpears 
Shall  unoppos'd,  be  llaiu'd.     My  valiant  friends, 
But  chief,  ye  men  of  Sparta,  view  that  fpace, 
Where  from  the  Malian  gulf  morc-diliant  rile 
Th*  Oetaean  rocks,  and  lei's  confine  the  ftreights. 
There  if  we  range,  extending  our  wide  front, 
An  ampler  fcope  to  havoc  will  be  civ'n. 

To  him  Dieneces.   'Plattean  friend, 
Well  doft  tliou    couttfel.      On    that    widening 

ground 

Clofe  to  the  mountain  place  thy  vet'ran  files. 
Proportional  numbers  from  thy  right  (hall  ftretcbs. 
Quite  to  the  fliore  in  phalanx  deep  like  thine. 
The  Spartans  wedg'd  in  this  contracted  part 
Will  I  contain.     Behind  me  Alpheus  waits 
With  lighter  bodies.    Further  back  the  lina 
Kfc 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


Of  Locris  forms  a  ftrong  referve.     He  faid. 
The  ditFrent  bands,  confiding  in  his  (kill, 
Move  on  fucceffive.     The  Platseans  firft 
Againft  the  hill  are  ftation'd.     In  their  van 
Dithyrambus  rank'd. "  Triumphant  joy 
Diftends  their  bofoms,  fpatkles  in  their  eyes. 

Blefs'd  be  the  great  Diomcdon,  they  fliout, 
Who  brings  another  hero  to  our  line. 
Hail !  Dithyrambus.     Hail '.  illuftrious  youth. 
Had  tender  age  permitted,  thou  hadft  gain'd 
An  early  palm  at  Marathon.     His  poft 
He  takes.     His  gladnefs  blufhes  on  his  cheek 
Amid  the  foremoft  rank.     Around  him  crowd 
The  long-try'd  warriors.    Their  unnumber'd  fears 
Difcovering,  they  in  ample  phrafe  recount 
Their  various  dangers.    He  their  wounds  furveys 
In  veneration,  nor  dil'dains  to  hear 
The  oft-repeated  tale.     From  Sparta's  king 
Return'd,  the  gracious  Agis  theie  addrefs'd. 

Leonidas  falutes  Platsea's  chief 
An'd  Ditbyrambus.    To  your  fwords  he  grants 
A  further  effort  with  Platxa's  band, 

If  yet  by  toil  unconquer'd but  I  fee, 

That  all,  unyielding,  court  the  promis'd  fight. 
Hail  '.  glorious  veterans.     This  fignal  day 
May  your  victorious  arms  augment  the  wreaths 
Around  your  venerable  heads,  and  grace 
Thermopylae  with  Marathonian  fame. 

This  faid,  he  haftensback.    Meantime  advance 
The  Mantmean,  Diophantus  brave, 
Then  Hegefaiuler,  Tegea's  dauntlefs  chief, 
Who  near  Diomedon  in  equal  range 
Erect  their  ftandards.     Next  the  Thebans  form. 
Alcmason,  bold  Eupalamus  furceed 
With  their  Corinthian  and  Phliafian  bands. 
Laft  on  the  Malian  lliore  Mycenses  jouth 
Arit'lobulns  draws.     From  Oeta's  fide 
Down  to  the  bay  in  well-connecled  length 
Each  gleaming  rar.k  contains  a  hundred  fpears, 
While  twenty  bucklers  ev'ry  rank  condenfe. 
A  fure  fupport,  Dieneces  behind 
Arrays  the  Spartans.     Godlike  Agis  here, 
There  Menalippus  by  th'eir  leader  (land 
Two  bulwarks.     Breathing  ardour  in  the  rear, 
The  -words  of  Alpheus  fan  the  growing  flame 
Of  expectation  through  his  light  arm'd  force; 
While  Polydop.is  preierit  in  his  thoughts 
To  vengeance  fliarpens  his  indignant  foul. 

No  foe  is  feen.     No  diftant  ihout  is  heard. 
This  paufe  of  action  Dithyrambus  chofe. 
The  folemn  fcene  on  Oeta  to  his  friend 
He  open'd  large  ;  pourtray'd  Meliffa's  form, 
Reveal'd  her  mandate  ;  when  Plata^a's  chief. 

Such  elevation  of  a  female  mind 
Befpeaks  Meiifla  worthy  to  obtain 
The  conference  (he  afk?.      This  vvond'rous  dame 
Amid  her  hymns  conceives  fome  lofty  thought 
To  make  tbefe  (laves,  who  loiter  in  their  camp, 
Dread  ev'n  our  women.     But,  my  gentle  friend* 
Ssy,  Ditbyrambiis,  whom  the  liquid  ipeil 
Ot  fong  enchants,  ftiould  I  reproach  'the  gods. 
Who  form'd  me  cold  to  mufic's  plealing  pow'r  ? 
Or  flwuld  1  thank  them,  that  tbe  fofc'ning  charm 
Of  found  or  numbers  ne'er  diflblv'd  my  foul  1 
Yet  I  confefs,  thy  valour  breaks  that  charm, 
Which  may  enrapture,  cot  unman  thy  breaft. 

Mi  his  friend.  Doth  lie,  whoi'days  record 


The  woes  of  Priam,  ard  the  Grecian  fame, 
Doth  he  diilblve  thy  fpirit  ?  Yet  he  flows 
In  all  the  fweetnefs  harmony  can  breathe. 

No,  by  the  gods  Diomedon  rejoins. 
I  feel  that  mighty  mufe.     I  fee  the  car 
Of  fierce  Achilles,  fee  th'  encumber'd  wheels 
O'er  heroes  driv'n,  and  clotted  with  their  gore. 
Another  too  demands  my  foul's  efteem, 
Brave  ^Efchylus  of  Athens.     I  have  feen 
His  mufe  begirt  by  furies,  while  (he  fwell'd 
Her  tragic  numbers.     Him  in  equal  rage 
His  country's  foes  o'erwhelming  I  beheld 
At  Marathon.     If  Phoebus  would  diffufe 
Such  fire  through  ev'ry  bard,  the  tuneful  band 
Might  in  themfelves  find  heroes  for  their  fongs. 
But,  Ion  of  Harmatides,  lift  thine  eye 
To  yonder  point,  remoteft  in  the  bay. 
Thofe  feeming   clouds,  which  o'er  the    billows 

fleet 

Succefilve  round  the  jutting  land  are  fails. 
Th'  Athenian  pendant  haftens  to  falute 
Leonidas.     O  ^fchylus,  my  friend, 
Firft  in  the  train  of  Phoebus  and  of  Mars, 
Be  thou  on  board  !  Swift-bounding  o'er  the  waves, 
Come,  and  be  witnefs  to  heroic  deeds  ! 
Brace  thy  ftrong  harp  with  loftier-founding  chords 
To  celebrate  this  battle  '.  Fall  who  may  ; 
But  ii  they  fall  with  honour,  let  their  names 
Round  feltive  goblets  in  thy  numbers  ring, 
And  joy,  not  grief,  accompany  the  long. 

Converting  thus,  their  courage  they  beguu'd, 
Which  elfe  impatient  of  inactive  hours 
At  long-fufp.ended  glory  had  repiu'd. 

BOOK  VII. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

MEGISTIAS  delivers  Meiiffa's  meffage  to  Leoni 
das.  Medon,  her  brother,  conducts  him  to  the 
temple.  She  furnifhes  Leonidas  with  the  means 
or  executing  a  defign  he  had  premeditated  to 
annoy  the  enemy.  They  are  joined  by  a  body 
of  mariners  under  the  command  of  ./Elchylus,  a 
celebrated  poet  and  warrior  among  the  Athe 
nians.  Leonidas  takes  the  neceffary  meafures; 
and, obferving from  afummitof  Oetathe  motions 
of  the  Perfian  army,  expects  another  attack  : 
thisis  renewed  with  great  violence  by  Hyperan- 
thes,  Abrocomes,  and  the  principal  Perfian 
leaders  at  the  head  of  fome  choien  troops. 

MEGISTIAS,  urging  to  unwonted  fpeed 

His  aged  fteps,  by  Dithyrambus  charg'd 

With  fage  Melifla's  words,  had  now  rejoin'd 

The  king  of  Lacedemon.     At  his  fide 

Was  Maron  ported,  watchful  to  receive 

His  high  injunction.     In  the  rear  they  flood 

Behind  two  thoufand  Locrians,  deep-array'd 

By  warlike  Medon,  from  O'ileus  fprung. 

Leonidas  to  them  his  anxious  mind 

Was  thus  difclofing.     Medon,  Maron,  hear. 

From  this  low  rampart  my  exploring  eye 

But  half  commands  the  action,  yet  hath  mark'd 

Enough  for  caution.     Yon  barbarian  camp, 

Immenfe,  exhauftlefs,  deluging  the  ground 

With  myriads,  ftili.  o"ert}owing,  may  cor.iume 

By  endlefs  numbers,  and  unceaGcg  toil 


LEONIDAS. 


The  Grecian  ftrength.     Not  marble  is  our  flefli, 
Nor  adamant  our  finews.     Sylvan  pow'rs, 
Who  dwell  on  Oeta,  your  fuperior  aid 
We  muft  folicit.     Your  Ihipendous  cliffs 
In  thofe  loofe  rocks,  and  branchlefs  trunks  con 
tain 
More  fell  annoyance  than  the  arm  of  man. 

He  ended,  when  Megiftias.  Virtuous  king, 
Melifla,  prieftefs  of  the  tuneful  nine, 
By  thfir  behefts  invites  thy  honour'd  feet 
To  her  chafte  dwelling,  feated  on  that  hill. 
To  conference  of  high  import  (lie  calls 
Thee,  firft  of,  Grecians.     Medon  interpos'd. 
She  is  my  filter.     Juftice  rules  her  ways 
With  piety  and  wifdom.     To  her  voice 
The  nations  round  give  ear.     The  mutes  breathe 
Their  infpiratiori  through  her  fpotlefs  foul 
'Which  borders  on  divinity.     She  calls 
On  thee.     O  truly  ftyl'd  the  firft  of  Greeks, 
Regard  her  call.     Yon  cliff's  projecting  head 
To  thy  difctrnment  will  afford  a  i'cope 
More  full,  more  certain  ;  thence  thy  fkilful  eye 
Will  beft  direct  the  fight.     Melifl'a's  fire 
W'as  ever  prefent  to  the  king  in  thought, 
Who  thus  to  Medon.     Lead,  Oileus'  Ion. 
Before  the  daughter  of  Oi.eus  place 
My  willing  feet.     They  haften  to  the  cave. 
Megiftias,  Maron  follow.     Through  the  rock 
Leonidas,  afcendmg  to  the  fane, 
Rofe  like  the  god  of  morning  from  the  cell 
Of  night,  when,  Ihe.dding  cheerfulnefs  and  day 
On  hill  and  vale  emblaz'd  with  dewy  gems, 
He  gladdens  nature.     Lacedemoa's  king, 
Majeftically  graceful  and  ferene, 
Difpels  the  rigour  in  that  folemn  feat 
Of  holy  feq'ieirration.     On  the  face 
Of  penfive-ey'd  religion  rapture  glows 
In  admiration  of  the  goldlike  man. 
Advanc'd  Melifla.     He  her  proffer'd  hand 
In  hue,  in  purity  like  fnow,  receiv'd. 
A  heav'n-illumin'd  dignity  of  look 
On  him  (he  fix'd.     Rever'd  by  all,  fhe  fpake. 

Hail  !  chief  of  men,  feledled  by  the  gods 
For  purer  fame,  than  Hercules  acquir'd. 
This  hour  allows  no  paufe.     She  leads  the  king 
With  Medon,  Maron,  and  Megiftias  down 
A  (lope,  declining  to  the  mofly  verge, 
Which  terminates  the   mountain.      While   they 

pafs, 

She  thus  proceeds.     Thefe  marble  maffes  view, 
Which   lie   difpers'd   around  you.      They  were 

hewn 

From  yonder  quarry.  Note  thofe  pond'rous  beasis, 
The  fylvan  offspring  of  that  hill.     With  thefe 
At  my  requeft  th'  Amphidlyons  from  their  feat 
Of  gen'ral  council  pioufly  decreed 
To  raife  a  dome,  the  ornament  of  Greece. 
Obferve   thofe   wither'd  firs,   thofe  mould'ring 

oaks, 

Down  that  declivity,  half-rooted,  bent, 
Inviting  human  force — Then  look  below. 
There  lies  Thermopylae.     I  fee,  exclaims 
The  high-conceiving  hero.     I  recal 
Thy  father's  words  and  forecaft.     He  prefag'd, 
I  fliould  not  find  his  daughter's  counfel  vain. 
He  to  accomplifh  what  thy  wifdom  plans, 
Hath  amp^eft  means  fuppjy'd.    Go,  Medoa,  bring 


The  thoufand  peafants  from  th'  fi'Van  vale 

Detach'd.     Their  leader  Meliba-us  bring. 

Fly,  Maron.     Ev'ry  inftrument  provide 

To  fell  the  trees,  to  drag  the  many  beams, 

To  lift  the  broad-hewrufragments.     Are  not  thefe 

For  facred  ufe  referv'd,  Megiftias  faid  ? 

Can  thefe  be  wielded  by  the  hand  of  Mars 

Without  pollution  ?     In  afolernn  tone 

The    prieftefs   anfwer'd.      Kev'reud   man,    who 

bear'ft 

Pontinc  wreaths,  and  thou,  great  captain,  hear. 
Forbear  to  think  that  my  unprompted  mind,    . 
Calm  and  fequefter'd  in  religion's  peace, 
Could  have  devis'd  a  ftratagem  of  war  ; 
Or,  unpermitted,  could  refign  to  Mars 
Thefe  rich  materials,  gather'd  to  reftore 
In  ftreugth  and  fplendour  yon  decrepid  walls^ 
And  that  timc-fhaken  roof.     Rejecling  deep, 
Laft  night  I  lay,  contriving  fwift  revenge 
On  thefe  Barbarians,  whole  career  profane 
O'erturns  the  Grecian  temples,  and  devotes 
Their  holy  bow'rsto  flames.     I  left  my  couch, 
Long  ere  the  fun  his  orient  gates  unbarr'd. 
Beneath  yon  beach  my  penfive  head  recliitM. 
The  rivulets,  tiie  fountains,  warbling  round, 
Attra<£led  flumber.     In  a  dream  I  faw 
Calliope.     Her  filters,  all  with  harps, 
Were  rang'J  around  her;  as  their  Parian  forms 
Show  in  the  temple.     Doft  thou  deep,  fhe  faid  ? 
Melifla,  doft  thou  deep  ?  The  barl/rotis  ho'r 
Approaches  Greece.     The  firft  ot'Grecians  comef 
By  death  to  vanquilh.     Prieftefs.  let  him  Lutl 
Thefe  marble  heaps,  thefe  cpnfecrated  beams, 
Our  fane  itfelf  to  crufh  the  impious  ranks. 
The  hero  fummon  to  our  facred  hill. 
Reveal  the  promis'd  fuccour.     All  is  due 
To  liberty  againit  a  tyrant's  pride. 
She  ftruck  her  fliell.     In  concert  full  reply'd 
The  lifter  lyres.     Leonidas  they  fung 
In  ev'ry  note  and  dialed:  yet  known, 
In  meafures  new,  in  language  yet  to  come. 

She  finifli'd.  Then  Megiftias.  Dear  to  heav'n, 
By  nations  honour'd,  and  in  tow'ring  thought 
O'er  either  fex  pre-eminent,  thy  words 
Tq  me  a  foldier  and  a  prieft  fuffice. 
I  hefitate  no  longer.     But  the  king, 
Wrapt  in  ecftatic  contemplation,  (tood, 
Revolving  deep  an  anfwer,  which  might  fmt 
His  dignity  and  hers.     At  length  he  fpake. 

Not  Lacedemon's  whole  collected  ftate 
Of  fenate,  people,  ephori,  and  kings, 
Not  the  Amphiclyons,  whofe  convention  holds 
The  nniverfal  majefty  of  Greece, 
E'er  drew  fuch  rev'rence,  as  thy  fingle  form, 

0  all-furpafling  woman,  worthy  child 
Of  time-renown'd  Oileus.     In  thy  voice 

1  hear  the  goddefs,  Liberty.     I  fee 
In  thy  fubhmity  of  look  and  port 

Thar  daughter  bright  of  Eleutherian  Jove. 
Me  thou  haft  prais'd.  My  confcious  fpirit.  feels, 
That  not  to  triumph  in  thy  virtuous  praife 
Were  want  of  virtue.     Yet,  illuftrious  dame, 
Were  I  aflur'd,  that  oracles  delude  ; 
That,  unavailing,  I  mould  fpill  my  blood ; 
That  all  the  mufes  of  fubjecled  Greece 
Hereafter  would  be  filent.  and  my  name 
Be  ne'«r  tranlmitted  to  recording  timej 
K-kij 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


There  is  in  virtue  for  her  fake  alone, 

"What  fhould  uphold  my  refolution  firm. 

My  country's  laws  I  never  would  furvive. 

Mov'J  at  his  words,  reflecting  on  his  fate, 

She  had  relax'd  her  dignity  of  mind, 

Had  funk  in  laclnefs;  hut  her  brother's  helm 

Before  her  beams.     Relumining  her  night, 

He  through  the  cave  like  Hefperus  afcends, 

Th'  Oilcan  hinds  conducting  to  achieve 

The  enterprife,  (he  counfels.     Now  her  ear 

Is  pierc'd  by  notes,  fhrill  founding  from  the  vault. 

Upftarts  a  dift'rent  band,  alert  and  light, 

Athenian  failors.     Long  and  fep'rate  files 

Of  lufty  fhoulders,  eas'd  by  union,  bear 

Thick,  well-compacted  cables,  wont  to  heave 

The  reftifl"  anchor.     To  a  naval  pipe, 

As  if  one  foul  invigorated  all, 

And  all  compos'd  one  body,  .they  had  trod 

In  equal  paces,  mazy,  yet  unbroke 

Throughout  their  paflage.    So  the  fpinal  ftrength 

Of  fome  portentous  ierpent,  whom  the  heats 

Of  Libya  breed,  indiflblubly  knit, 

But  flexible,  a-crofs  the  fandy  plain, 

Or  up  the  mountain  draws  his  fpotted  length, 

Or  where  a  winding  excavation  leads 

Through  rocks  abrupt  and  wild.  Of  Mature  large, 

In  arms,  which  fliowM  fimplicity  of  Arength, 

No  decoration  of  'redundant  art, 

With  (able  horfe-hair,  floating  down  his  back, 

A  warrior  moves  behind.     Compos'd  in  gait, 

Aufterely  grave  and  thoughtful,  on  his  flu'eld 

The  democratic  niajeuy  he  bore 

Of  Athens.     Carv'd  in  emblematic  brafs, 

Her  image  fteod  with  Pallas  by  her  fide, 

And  trampled  under  each  victorious  foot 

A  regal  crown,  one  Perfian,  one  ufurpt 

By  her  own  tyrants  on  the  well-fought  plain 

Of  Marathon  confounded.     He  commands 

Thefe  future  guardians  of  their  country's  weal, 

Of  gen'ral  Greece  the  bulwarks.     Their  high 

deeds 

From  Artemifmm,  from  th'  empurpled  fliores 
Of  Salamis  renown  fhall  echo  wide  j 
Shall  tell  pollerity  in  lateft  times, 
That  naval  fortitude  controuls  the  world. 
Swift  Maron,  following,  brings  a  vig'rous  band 
Of  Helots.     Ev'ry  inftrument  they  wield 
To  delve,  to  hew,  to  heave  ;  and  active  lad 
Bounds  Melibceus,  vigilant  to  urge 
The  tardy  forward.     To  Laconia's  king 
Advanc'd  th'  Athenian  leader,  and  began  : 

Thou  godlike  ruler  of  Eurotas,  hail ! 
Thee  by.  my  voice  Themiftocles  falutes, 
The  admiral  of  Athens.    I  conduct 
By  public  choice  the  fquadron  of  my  tribe, 
And  JEfchylus  am  call'd.    Our  chief  hath  giv'n 
Three  days  to  glory  on  Eubcca's  coaftj 
Whole  promontories  almoft  rife  to  meet 
Thy  ken  from  Oeta's  cliffs.    This  morning  faw 
The  worded  foe,  from  Artemifium  driv'n, 
Leave  their  difabled  mips,  and  floating  wrecks 
For  Grecian  trophies.  When  the  fight  was  clos'd, 
I  wasdetach'd  to  bring  th'  aufpicious  news, 
To  hid  thee  welcome.  Fortunate  my  keel 
Hath  fwiftly  borne  me.  Joyful  I  concur 
In  thy  attempt.  Appris'd  by  yonder  chiefs, 
Who  met  nje  landing,  iriftant  from  the  fliios 


A  thoufand  gallant  mariners  I  drew, 

Who  till  the  fetting  fun  fhall  lend  their  toil. 

Themiftocles  and  thou  accept  my  heart, 
Leonidas  reply 'd,  and  clofely  ftrain'd 
The  brave,  the  learn'd  Athenian  to  his  breaft. 
To  envy  is  ignoble,  to  admire 
Th'  activity  of  Athens  will  become 
A  king  of  Sparta,  who  like  thee  condemn'd 
His  country's  floth.  But  Sparta  now  isarm'd. 
Thou  (halt  commend.  Behold  me  ftation'd  here 
To  watch  the  wild  viciffitudes  of  war, 
Direct  the  courfe  of  (laughter.    To  this  poft 
By  that  fupenor  woman  I  was  call'd. 
By  long  protracted  fight  left  fainting* Greece 
Should  yield,  outnumber'd,  my  enlightened  foul 
Through   her,    whom   heav'n    enlightens,    hath 

devis'd 

To  whelm  the  num'rous,  perfevering  foe 
In  hideous  death,  and  fignalize  the  day 
With  horrors  new  to  war.  The  mules  prompt 
The  bright  achievement.  Lo  !  from  Athens  fmile* 
Minerva  too.  Her  fivift,  aufpicious  aid 
In  thee  we  find,  and  thefe,  an  ancient  race, 
By  her  and  Neptune  cherifli'd.  Straight  he  meets 
The  gallant  train,  majeftic  with  his  arms 
Outitr«tch'd,  in  this  applauding  ilraii;  he  fpake: 

0  lib'ral  people,  earlieft  arm'd  to  fliield 

Not  yonr  own  Athens  more,  than  gen'ral  Greece> 
You  beft  deferve  ker  gratitude.  Her  praife 
Will  rank  you  foremolt  on  the  rolls  of  fame. 

They  hear,  they  gaze,  revering  and  rever'd. 
Frefli  numbers  mufter,  rufhing  from  the  hills, 
The  thickets  round.  Melill'a,  pointing,  fpake  t 

1  am  their  leader.  Native  of  the  hills 
Are  thefe,  the  rural  worfiiippers  of  Pan, 

Who  breathes  an  ardour  through  their  humblf. 

minds 

To  join  your  warriors.  Vaffals  thefe,  not  mine, 
But  of  the  mufes,  and  their  hallow'd  laws, 
Adminifter'd  by  me.  Their  patient  hands 
Make  culture  finile,  where  nature  feems  to  chide  ; 
Nor  wanting  my  inftructions,  or  my  pray'rs, 
Fertility  they  fcatter  by  their  toil 
Around  this  aged  temple's  wild  domain. 
Is  Melibceus  here  !  Thou  fence  fecure 
To  eld  Oiieus  from  the  cares  of  time, 
Thrice  art  thou  welcome.  Ufeful,  wife,  belov'd, 
Where'er  thou  fojourneft,  on  Oeta  known, 
As  oft  the  bounty  of  a  father's  love 
Thcu  on  Melifia's  folitude  dolt  pour, 
Be  thou  director  of  thefe  mountain  hinds* 
Tk'  important  labour  to  mfpiring  airs 
From  flutes  and  harps  in  fymphony  with  hymns 
Of  holy  virgins,  ardent  all  perform, 
In  bands  divided  under  dift 'rent  chiefs. 
Huge  timbers,  blocks  of  marble  to  remove 
They  firft  attempted  ;  then  affembled  (tones 
Looie  in  their  beds,  and  wither'd  trunks,  uptora 
By  tempelh;  next  difirembei'd  from  the  rock 
Broad,  rugged  fragments;  from  the  mountains 

hew'd 

Their  venerable  firs,  and  aged  oaks, 
Which,  of  their  branches  by  the  lightning  bar'd, 
Prefentedftill  againft  the  blafting  flame 
Their  hoary  pride,  unfhaken.    Thefe  the  Greeks^ 
But  chief  th'  Athenian  mariners,  to  force 
Uniting  fk.il!,  wi;h  mafly  leavers  heave. 


LEONtDAS. 


Will)  {rrong-knlit  cables  drag  t  till,  now  tlifpos'd, 

Where  great  Leonklas  appoints,  the  piles 

Nod  o'er   the  Strcights.    This  new  and   fudden 

feene 

Might  lift  imagination  to  belief, 
That  Orpheus  and  Amphion  from  their  beds 
Of  ever  blooming  afphodel  had  heard 
The  mufescall;  had  brought  their  fabled  harps, 
At  whofe  mellifluent  charm  once  more  the  trees 
Had  burft  their  fibrous  bands,  and  marbles  leap'd 
In  rapid  motion  from  the  quarry's  womb, 
That  day  to  follow  harmony  in  aid 
Of  gcn'rous  valour.  Fancy  might  difccrn 
Cerulean  Tethys,  from  her  coral  grot 
Emerging,  feated  on  her  pearly  car, 
With  Nereids,  floating  on  the  furge  below, 
To  view  in  wonder  from  the  Malian  bay 
Th.e  Attic  fons  of  Neptune ;  who  forfook 
Their  wooden  walls  to  range  th'  Oetiean  crags, 
To  rend  the  forefts,  and  disjoin  the  rocks. 

Meantime  a  hundred  flieep  are   flain.     Their 

limbs 

From  burning  piles  fume  grateful.  Bounty  fpreads 
A  decent  board.  Simplicity  attends. 
Then  fpake  the  prieftefs.    Long-enduring  chiefs, 
Your  efforts,  now  accomplith'd,  may  admit 
Reflection  due  to  this  hard-labour'd  train, 
Due  to  yourfelves.  Her  hofpitable  fmile 
Wins  her  well-chofen  guefts,  Laconia's  king, 
Her  brother,  Maron,  JEfchylus  divine 
With  Acarnania'sprieft.  Her  firft  commands 
To  Melibceus  fedulous  and  blithe 
Diftribute  plenty  through  the  toiling  crowd. 
Then,  fkreen'd  beneath  clofe  umbrage  of  an  oak, 
Each  care-diveited  chief  the  banquet  mares. 

Cool  breezes,  whifp'ring,  flutter  in  the  leaves, 
Whofe  verdure,  pendent  in  an  arch,  repel 
The  weft'ring  fun's  hot  glare.  Favonius  bland 
His  breath  impregnates  with  exhaling  fweets 
From  flow'ry  beds,  whofe  fcented  c.lufters  deck 
The  gleaming  pool  in  view.    Faft  by,  a  brook 
In  limpid  lampfes  over  native  fteps 
Attunes  his  cadence  to  fonorous  firings, 
And  liquid  accents  of  MeliflVs  maidsi. 
The  floating  air  in  melody  refpires. 
A  rapture  mingles  in  the  calm  repaft. 
Uprifes  ^Efchylus.  A  goblet  full 
He  grafps.   To  thofe  divinities,  who  dwell 
In  yonder  temple,  this  libation  firft, 
To  thee,  benignant  hoftefs,  next  I  pour, 
Then  to  thy  fame,  Leonidas.  He  faid. 
His  breaft,  with  growing  heat  diftended,  prompts 
His  eager  hand,  to  whole  expreffive  fign 
One  of  the  virgins  cedes  her  facred  lyre. 
Their  choral  fong  complacency  reftrains. 
The  foul  of  mufic,  burfting  from  his  touch, 
At  once  gives  birth  to  fentiment  fublime. 

O  Hercules,  and  Perfeus,  he  began, 
Star-fpangled  twins  of  Leda,  and  the  reft 
Of  Jove's  immediate  feed,  your  fplendid  acll 
Mankind  protected,  while  the  race  was  rude ; 
While  o'er  the  earth's  unciviliz'd  extent 
The  favage  monfter,  and  the  ruffian  fway'd, 
More  favage  ftill.   No  policy,  nor  laws 
Had  fram'd  focieties.    By  fingle  ftrength 
A  fingle  ruffian,  or  a  monfter  fell. 
The  legislator  rofe.  Three  lights  in  Greece, 


Lycurgus,  Solon  and  Zlaleucusblaz'd. 

Then,  fubftituting  wifilom,  Jove  profufe 

Of  his  own  blood  HO  longer,  gave  us  more 

[n  difcipline  and  manners,  which  can  form 

A  hero  like  Leonidas,  than  all 

The  pod-begotten  progeny  before. 

The  pupils  next  of  Solon  claim  the  rnufe. 

Sound  your  hoarfe  conchs,  ye  Tritons.    You  be. 

held 

The  Atlantean  fhape  of  (laughter  xvade 
Through  your  aftonifli'd  deeps,  his  purple  arm 
Uplifting  high  before  th'  Athenian  line. 
You  law  bright  conqueft,  riding  on  the  gale, 
Which  fwell'd  their  fails;    faw  terror  at  their 

helms 

To  guide  their  brazen  beaks  on  Ana's  pride. 
Her  adamantine  grapple  from  their  decks 
Fate  threw,  and  ruin  on  the  hoftile  fleet 
Inextricably  ftfh-n'd.    Sound,  ye  nymphs 
Of  Oeta's  mountains,  of  her  woods  and  ftreams. 
Who  hourly  witnefs  to  MeliflVs  worth, 
Ye  oreads,  dryads,  naiads,  found  her  praife. 
Proclaim  Zaleucus  by  his  daughter  grac'd 
Like  Solon  and  Lycurgus  by  their  fons. 

Laconia's  hero,  and  the  prieftefs  bow'd 
Their  foreheads  grateful  to  the  bard  fublime. 
She,  rifing,  takes  the  word.   More  fweet  thy  lyre 
To  friendihip's  ear,  than  terrible  to  foes 
Thy  fpear  in  battle,  though  the  keeneft  point, 
Which  ever  pierc'd  Barbarians.   Clofe  we  here 
The  fong  and  banquet.   Hark  !  a  diftant  din 
From  Afia's  camp  requires  hnmediate  care. 

She  leads.   Along  the  rocky  verge  they  pafj. 
In  calm  delight  Leonidas  furveys 
All  in  the  order,  which  he  laft  aflign'd ; 
As  o'er  Thermopylae  beneath  he  caft 
A  wary  look.   The  mountain's  furtheft  crag 
Now  reach'd,  Melifla  to  the  king  began  : 

Obferve  that  fpace  below,  difpers'd  in  dales, 
In  hollows,  winding  through  diflever'd  rocks. 
The  (lender  outlet,  fkreen'd  by  yonder  flirubs, 
Leads  to  the  pafs.    There  ftately  to  my  view 
The  martial  qneen  of  Caria  yefter  fun, 
Defcending,  fliow'd.   Her  loudly  I  reprov'd. 
But  (lie,  devoted  to  the  Perlian  king. 
In  ambufl)  there  preferv'd  his  flying  hoft. 
She  laft  retreated  ;  but,  retreating,  prov'd 
Her  valour  equal  to  a  better  caufe. 
Again  I  fee  the  heroine  approach. 

Megiihas  then.    I  fee  a  powerful  arm, 
Sustaining  firm  the  large,  emblazon'd  fhield. 
Which,  fafhion'd  firft  in  Caria,  we  have  learn'd 
To  imitate  in  Greece.    Sublime  her  port 
Befpeaks  a  mighty  fpirit.   Prieftefs,  look. 
An  a<fl  of  piety  fhe  now  performs, 
Directing  thofe,  perhaps  hei  Carian  band, 
To  bear  dead  brethren  from  the  bloody  field. 
Among  the  horfemen  an  exalted  form 
Like  Demaratusflrikes  my  {earthing  eye. 
To  me,  recalling  his  tranfcendent  rank 
In  Sparta  once,  he  feems  a  languid  fun, 
Which  dimly  finks  in  exhalations  dark, 
Enveloping  his  radiance.    While  he  fpake*.. 
Intent  on  martial  duty  Mefion  views 
The  dang'rous  thicket ;  Laredemon's  chief, 
Around  the  region  his  confid'rate  eye 
Extending,  marks  each  movement  of  the  foe. 
K.  k  iij 


THE   WORKS    OF  GLOVER. 


Th'  imperial  Perfian  from  his  lofty  car 
llad  in  the  morning's  early  conflict  feen 
His  vanquifh'd  army,  pouring  from  the  ftreights 
Back  to  their  tents,  and  o'er  his  camp  difpers'd 
In  confternation  ;  as  a  river  burfts 
Impetuous  from  his  fountain,  then,  enlarg'd, 
Spreads  a  dead  furface  o'er  fome  level  marfh. 
Th'  aftonifli'd  king  thrice  ftarted  from  his  feat  ; 
Shame,  fear  and  indignation  rent  his  breaft  ; 
As  ruin  irrefiltible  were  near 
To  overwhelm  his  millions.    Hafte,  he  calPd 
To  Hyperanthcs,  hafte  and  meet  the  Greeks. 
Their  daring  rage,  their  infolence  repel. 
From  fuch  difhonour  vindicate  our  name. 

His  royal  brother  through  th'  extenfive  camp 
Obedient  mov'd.    Deliberate  and  brave, 
Each  active  prince  from  ev'ry  tent  remote, 
The  hardieft  troops  he  fummon'd.    Caria's  queen, 
To  Hyperanthes  bound  by  firm  efteem 
Of  worth,  unrivall'd  in  the  Perfian  court, 
In  Volemn  pace  was  now  returning  flow 
Before  a  band,  tra'nfposting  from  the  field 
Their  (lain  companions  to  the  fandy  beach. 

She  ftopp'd,  and  thus  addrefs'd  him.   Learn,  O 

princ?, 

From  one,  whofe  wifhes  on  thy  merit  wait, 
The  only  means  to  bind  thy  gallant  brow 
Tn  faireft  wreathes.    To  break  the  Grecian  line 
v  In  vain  ye  ftruggle,  unarray'd.and  lax, 
Depriv'd  of  union.    Try  to  form  one  band 
In  order'd  ranks,  and  emulate  the  foe. 
Nor  to  fecurc  a  thicket  nest  the  pals 
Forget.   Selected  numbers  ftation  there. 
Farewell,  young  hero.  May  thy  fortune  prove 
Unlike  to  mine.    Had  Ada's  millions  fpar'd 
One  myriad  to  fultain  me,  none  had  feen 
Me  quit  the  dang'rous  conteft.    But  the  head 
Of  bafe  Argeftes  on  fome  future  day 
Shall  feel  my  treafur'd  vengeance.   From  the  fleet 
I  only  flay,  till  burial  rites  are  paid 
To  thefe  dead  Carians.     On  this  fatal  frrand 
May  Artemifia's  grief  appeafe  your  ghofts, 
My  faithful  fubjects,  facrifk'd  in  vain. 

The  hero  grateful  and  reipectful  heard, 
What  foon  his  warmth  neglected  at  the  fight 
Or  fpears,  which  flam'd  innumerable  round. 
Bryond  the  reft  in  luftre  was  a  band, 
The  fatellites  of  Xerxes.  They  forfook 
Their  conftant  orbit  round  th'  imperial  throne 
At  this  dread  crifis.   To  a  myriad  fiVd, 
From,  their  unchanging  number  they  deriv'd 
The  title  of  Immortals.    Light  their  fpears ; 
Set  in  pomegranates  of  refulgent  gold. 
Or  burnifh'd  filver,  were  the  (lender  blades. 
Magnificent  and  (lately  were  the  ranks. 
The  prince,  commanding  mute  attention,  fpake. 

In  two  riivifions  part  your  number,  chiefs. 
One  will  I  lead  to  onfet.  In  my  ranks 
Abrocomes,  Hvd-lrnes  fhall  advance, 
Pandatrt,  Miridus,  Intaphernes  brave 
To  wrefl  this  fhort-liv'd  victory  from  Greece. 
Thou,  Abradates,  by  Sofarmes  join'd, 
Orontes  and  Mazseus,  keep  the  reft 
From  action.    Future  fuccour  they  muft  lend, 
Should  envious  fate  exhauft  our  num'rous  file's. 
For,  O  pure  Mithra,  may  thy  radiant  eye 
Ne'<?r  fee  us,  yielding  to  ignoble  flight, 


The  Perfian  name  difhonour.     May  ;lic  act* 
Of  our  renown'd  progenitors,  who,  led 
By  Cyrus,  gave  one  monarch  to  the  eaft, 
In  us  revive.     O  think,  ye  Perfian  lords, 
What  endlefs  infamy  will  blaft  your  names; 
Should  Greece,  that  narrow  portion  of  the  earth, 
Your  pow'r  defy  :  when  Babylon  hath  lowVd 
Her  tow'ring  creft,  when  Lydia's  pride  is  quell'd 
In  Croefus  vanquiih'd,  when  her  empire  loft 
Ecbatana  deplores.     Ye  chofen  guard, 
Your  king's  immortal  bulwark,  O  reflect, 
What  deeds  from  your  fuperior  fvvords  he  claims. 
You  ftiare  his  largeft  bounty.     To  your  faith, 
Your  conftancy  and  prowefs  he  commits 
His  throne,  his  perfon,  and  this  day  his  fame. 

They  wave  their  banners,  blazing  in  the  fun, 
Who  then  three  hours  tovv'rd  Hefperushad  driv'n 
From  his  meridian  height.     Amid  their  ihouts 
The  hoarfe-refounding  billows  are  not  heard. 
Of  different  nations,  and  in  diff'rent  garb, 
Innumerous  and  vary'd  like  the  (hells, 
By  reftlefs  Tethys  fcatter'd  on  the  beach, 
O'er  which  they  trod,  the  multitude  advanced, 
Straight  by  Leonidas  defcry'd.     The  van 
Abrocomes  and  Hyperanthes  led, 
Pandates,  Mindus.     Violent  their  march 
Sweeps  down  the  rocky,  hollow-founding  pafs. 
So,  where  th"  unequal  globe  in  mountains  fwells, 
A  torrent  rolls  his  thnnd'ring  furge  between 
The  fteep-erected  cliffs ;  tumultuous  dafh 
The  waters,  burfting  on  the  pointed  crags  : 
The  valley  roars  ;  the  marble  channel  foams. 
Th'  undaunted  Greeks  immoveably  withftaqd 
The  dire  encounter.     Soon  th'  impetuous  fhock 
Of  thoufands  and  of  myriads  fhakes  the  ground. 
Stupendous  fcene  of  terror!   Under  hills, 
Whofe  fides,  half-arching,  o'er  the  hofts  project, 
The  unabating  fortitude  of  Greece 
Maintains  her  line,  th'  untrain'd  Barbarians  charge 
In  favage  fury.     With  inverted  trunks, 
Or  bent  obliquely  from  the  fhagged  ridge, 
The  filvan  horrors  overfhade  the  fight. 
The  clanging  trump,  the  cra(h  of  mingled  fpears, 
The  groan  of  death,  and  war's  difcordant  fhouts 
Alarm  the  echoes  in  their  neighb'ring  caves  ; 
Woods,  cliffs  and  fliores  return  the  dreadful  found. 

BOOK  VIII. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

HYPERANTHE3  difcontinuing  the  fight,  while  he 
waits  for  reinforcements,  Teribazus,  a  Pcrfian 
remarkable  for  his  merit  and  learning,  and 
highly  beloved  by  Hyperanthes,  but  unhappy 
in  his  paffion  for  Ariana,  a  daughter  of  Darius, 
advances  from  the  reft  of  the  army  to  the  ref- 
cue  of  a  friend  in  diftrefs,  who  lay  wounded  on 
the  field  of  battle.  Teribazus  is  attacked  by 
Diophantus,  the  Mantinean,  whom  he  over 
comes  ;  then  engaging  with  Dithyrambus, 
is  himfelf  flain.  Hyperanthes  haflens  to  his 
fuccour.  A  general  battle  enfues,  where  Di- 
omedon  diftinguifhes  his  valour.  Hyperanthes 
and  Abrocomes,  partly  by  their  own  efforts, 
and  partly  by  the  perfidy  of  the  Thebans,  who 
defert  the  line,  being  on  the  point  of  forcing- 
the  Grecians,  are'  repulfed  by  the  Lacedemon;-- 
ans.  Hyperanthes  convpofes  a  fele<5b  body  out 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S, 


<nf  the  Perfian  Handing  forces,  and,  making  an 
improvement  in  their  difcipline,  renews  the 
attack ;  upon  which  Leonidas  changes  the  dif- 
pofition  of  his  army .  Hyperanthes  and  the 
ableft  Perfian  generals  are  driven  out  of  the 
field,  and  feveral  thoufands  of  the  Barbarians, 
circumvented  in  the  pafs,  are  entirely  deflroyed. 

AMID  the  van  of  Perfia  was  a  youth, 

Nam'd  Teribazus,  not  for  golden  (lores, 

Not  for  wide  paftures,  travers'd  o'er  by  herds, 

By  fleece-abounding  fheep,  or  gen'rous  fteeds. 

Nor  yet  for  pow'r,  nor  fplendid  honours  fam'd. 

Rich  was  his  mind  in  ev'ry  art  divine ; 

Through  ev'ry  path  of  fcience  had  he  walk'd, 

The  votary  of  wifdom.     In  the  years, 

When  tender  down  invefts  the  ruddy  cheek, 

He  with  the  Magi  turn'd  the  hallow'd  page 

Of  Zoroaftres.     Then  his  tow'ring  thoughts 

High  on  the  plumes  of  contemplation  Ibar'd. 

He  from  the  loftyBabylonian  fane 

With  learn'd  Chald.xans  trac'd  the  heav'nly  fphere, 

There  number'd  o'er  the  vivid  fires,  which  gleam 

On  night's  befpangled  bofom.     Nor  unheard 

Were  Indian  fages  from  fequefler'd  bow'rs, 

While  on  the  banks  of  Ganges  they  difclos'd 

The  pow'rs  of  nature,  whether  in  the  woods, 

The  fruitful  glebe,  or  flow'r,  the  healing  plant, 

The  limpid  waters,  or  the  ambient  air, 

Or  in  the  purer  element  of  fire. 

The  realm  of  old  Sefoftris  next  he  view'd, 

Myfterious  Ewypt  with  her  hidden  rites 

Of  Ifis  and  OCris.     Laft  he  fought 

Th'  Ionian  Greeks,  from  Athens  fprung,  nor  pafs'd 

Miletis  by,  which  once  in  rapture  heard 

The  tongue  of  Thales,  nor  Priene's  walls, 

Where  wifdom  dwelt  with  Bias,  nor  the  feat 

Of  Pittacus,  rever'd  on  Lefbian  fhores. 

Th'  enlighten'd  youth  to  Sufa  now  return'd, 
•Place  of  his  birth.     His  merit  foon  was  dear 
To  Hyperanthes.     It  was  now  the  time, 
That  difcontent  and  murmur  on  the  banks 
Of  Nile  were  loud  and  threat'ning.      Chembes 

there 

The  only  faithful  ftood,  a  potent  lord, 
Whom  Xerxes  held  by  promis'd  nuptial  ties 
With  his  own  blood.     To  this  Egyptian  prince 
Bright  Ariana  was  the  deftin'd  fpoufe, 
From  the  fame  bed  with  Hyperanthes  born. 
Among  her  guards  was  Teribazus  nam'd 
By  that  fond  brother,  tender  of  her- weal. 

Th'  Egyptian  boundaries  they  gain.    They  hear 
Of  infurredion,  of  the  Pharian  tribes 
In  arms,  and  Chembes  in  the  tumult  flain. 
They  pitch  their  tents,  at  midnight  are  afiail'd, 
Surpris'd,  their  leaders  maffacred,  the  flaves 
Of  Ariana  captives  borne  away, 
Her  own  pavilion  forc'd,  her  perfon  feiz'd 
By  ruffian  hands  :  when  timely  to  redeem 
Her  and  th'  invaded  camp  from  further  fpoil 
Flies  Teribazus  with  a  rally'd  band, 
Swift  on  her  chariot  feats  the  royal  fair, 
Nor  waits  the  dawn.     Of  all  her  menial  train 
None,  but  three  female  flaves  are  left.  Hc%r  guide, 
Her  comforter  and  guardian  fate  provides 
In  him,  difHnguifh'd  by  his  worth  alone, 
No^prince,  nor  fatrap,  now  the  fingle  chief 
Of  her  furviving  guard.     Of  regal  birth, 


But  with  excelling  graces  in  hetv  foul, 
Unlike  an  eaflern  princefs  (he  inclines 
To  his  confoling,  his  inftrudlive  tongue 
An  humbled  ear.     Amid  the  converfe  fweet 
Her  charms,  her  mind,  her  virtues  he  explores, 
Admiring.     Soon  is  admiration  chang'd 
To  love  ;  nor  loves  he  fooner,  than  defpairs. 
From  morn  till  ev'n  her  pafling  wheels  he  guards 
Back  to  Euphrates.     Often,  as  ihe  mounts, 
Or  quits  the  car,  his  arm  her  weight  fuftains 
With  trembling  pleafure.     His  amduous  hand 
From  pureft  fountains  wafts  the  living  flood. 
Nor  feldom  by  the  fair  one's  foft  command 
Would  he  repofe  him,  at  her  feet  reclin'd ; 
While  o'er  his  lips  her  lovely  forehead  bow'd, 
Won  by  his  grateful  eloquence,  which  footh'd 
With  fweet  variety  the  tedious  march, 
Beguiling  time.     He  too  would  then  forget 
His  pains  a  while,  in  raptures  vain  entranc'd, 
Delufion  all,  and  fleeting  rays  of  joy, 
Soon  overcaft  by  more  intenfe  defpair; 
Like  wint'ry  clouds,  which,  op'ning  for  a  time,    . 
Tinge  their  black  folds  with  gleams  of  fcatter'd 

light, 

Then,  fwiftly  clofing,  on  the  brow  of  morn 
Condenfe  their  horrors,  and  in  thickeft  gloom. 
The  ruddy  beauty  veil.     They  now  approach 
The  tow'r  of  Belus.     Hyperanthes  leads 
Through  Babylon  an  army  to  chaflife 
The  crime  of  Egypt.     Teribazus  here 
Parts  from  his  princefs,  marches  bright  in  fteel 
Beneath  his  patron's  banner,  gathers  palms 
On  conquer'd  Nile.     To  Sufa  he  returns, 
To  Ariana's  refidence,  and  bears 
Deep  in  his  heart  th'  immedicable  wound. 
But  unreveal'd  and  filent  was  his  pain  ; 
Nor  yet  in  folitary  (hades  he  roam'd, 
Nor  fhun'd  refort :  but  o'er  his  forrows  caft 
A  fickly  dawn  of  gladnefs,  and  in  fm;les 
Conceal'd  his  anguifh  ;  while  the  fecret  flame 
Rag'd  in  his  bofom,  and  its  peace  confum'd : 
His  foul ftill  brooding  o'er  thefe  mournful  thoughts. 

Can  I,  O  Wifdom,  find  relief  in  thee, 
Who  dofl  approve  my  paffion  ?  From  the  fnares 
Of  beauty  only  thou  wouldft  guard  my  heaxt. 
But  here    thyfelf  art  -charm'd  ;    where  foftnefs^ 

grace, 

And  ev  ry  virtue  dignify  defire. 
Yet  thus  to  love,  defpairing  to  poffefs, 
Of  all  the  torments,  by  relentlefs  fate 
On  life  inflicted,  is  the  moft  fevere. 
Do  I  not  feel  thy  warnings  in  my  breaft; 
That  flight  alone  can  fave  me  ?  I  will  go 
Back  to  the  learn'd  Chaldaeans;  on  ths  banki 
Of  Ganges  feek  the  fages ;  where  to  heav'n  . 
With  thee  my  elevated  foul  fhall  tow'r. 
O  wretched  Teribazus  !  all  confpires 
Againft  thy  peace.     Our  mighty  lord  prepares 
To  overwhelm  the  Grecians.     Ev'ry  youth 
Is  call'd  to  war ;  and  I,  who  lately  pois'd 
With  no  inglorious  arm  the  foldisr's  lance, 
Who  near  the  fide  of  Hyperanthes  fought, 
Mufl  join  the  throng.     How  therefore  can  I  fly 
From  Ariana,  who  with  Afia's  queens 
The  fplendid  camp  of  Xerxes  muft  adorn  ? 
Then  be  it  fo.     Again  I  will  adore 
Her  gentle  virtues.     Her  delightful  voice, 
Her  gracious  fweetnefs  fliall  again  diffufc 
K  k  iiij 


THE   WO&KS   OF  GLOVER. 


Refiftlefs  magic  through  my  ravifh'd  heart ; 
Till  pafilon,  thus  with  double  rage  enflam'd, 
Swells  to  diftradion  in  my  tortur'd  bread, 
Then— but  in  vain  through  darknefs  do  I  fearch 
My  fate — Defpair  and  fortune  be  my  guides. 

The  day  arriv'd,  when  Xerxes  firft  advanc'd 
His  arms  from  Sufa's  gates.     The  Perfian  dames, 
Go  were  accuflom'd  all  the  eaftern  fair, 
In  fumptnous  cars  accompany'd  his  march, 
A  beauteous  train,  by  Ariana  grac'd. 
Her  Teribazus  follows,  on  her  wheels 
Attends  and  pines.     Such  woes  opprefs  the  youth, 
Opprefs,  but  not  enervate.     From  the  van 
He  in  this  fecond  conflid  had  withftood 
The  threat'ning  frown  of  adamantine  Mars, 
He  fingly,  while  his  braveft  friends  recoil'd. 
His  manly  temples  no  tiara  bound. 
The  {lender  lance  of  Afia  he  difdain'd, 
And  her  light  target.     Eminent  he  tow'r'd 
In  Grecian  arms  the  wonder  of  his  foes  ; 
Among  th'  lonians  were  his  ftrenuous  limbs 
Train'd  in  the  gymnic  fchool.     A  fulgent  cafque 
Enclos'd  his  head.     Before  his  face  and  cheft 
Down  to  the  knees  an  ample  (hield  was  fpread. 
A  pond'rous  fpear   he    (hook.     The  well-aim'd 

point 

Sent  two  Phliafians  to  the  realms  of  death 
With  four  Tegzans,  whofc  indignant  chief, 
Brave  Hegefander,  vengeance  hreath'd  in  vain, 
With  ftreaming  wounds  repuls'd.     Thus  far  un- 

match'd, 

His  arm  prevail'd  ;  when  Hyperanthes  call'd 
From  fight  his  fainting  legions.     Now  each  band 
Their  languid  courage  reinforc'd  by  reft. 
Meantime  with  Teribazus  thus  eonfeir'd 
Th'  applauding  prince.     Thou  much  deferving 

youth, 

Had  twenty  warriors  in  the  dang'rous  van 
Like  thee  maintain'd  the  onfet,  Greece  had  wept 
Her  proftrate  ranks.     The  weary'd  fight  awhile 
I  now  relax,  till  Abradates  ftrong, 
Orontes  and  Mazaeus  are  advanc'd. 
Then  to  the  conflid;  will  i  give  no  paufe, 
tf  not  by  prowefs,  yet  by  endlefs  toil 
Succeflive  numbers  ftiall  exhauft  the  foe. 

He  faid.     Immers'd  in  fadnefs,  fcarce  reply'd, 
But  to  himfelf  complain'd  the  am'rous  youth. 
Still  do  I  languifh,  mourning  o'er  the  fame, 
My  arm  acquifes.     Tormented  heart !  thou  feat 
Of  conf'ant  forrow,  what  deceitful  fmiles 
"Vet  canft  thou  borrow  from  unreal  hope 
To  flatter  life  ?  at  Ariana's  feet 
What  if  with  fupplicating  knoes  I  bow, 
Implore  her  pity,  and  reveal  my  love. 
Wretch !  canft  thou  climb  to  yon  effulgent  orb, 
And  (hare  the  fplendours,  which  irradiate  heav'n? 
Doft  thou  afpire  to  that  exalted  maid, 
Great  Xerxes'  fifler,  rivalling  the  claim 
Of  Afia's  proudeft  potentates  and  kings  ? 
Unlcfs  within  her  bofom  I  infpir'd 
A  paffion  fervent,  as  my  own,  nay  more, 
Such,  as  difpelling  ev'ry  virgin  fear, 
Might,  unreftrain'd,  difclofe  its  fond  defire, 
My  love  is  hopelefs ;  and  her  willing  hand, 
Should  flic  beftow  it,  drains  from  Afia's  lord 
On  both  perdition.     By  defpair  benumb'd, 
His  limbs  their  .adion  lofe.     A  wHh  for  death 
O'crcafts  and  chills  his  foul.    When  faddcn  cries 


From  Ariamnes  rottfe  his  drooping  pow'i'8 

Alike  in  manners  they  of  equal  age 

Were  friends,  and  partners  in  the  glorious  toil 

Of  war.     Together  they  victorious  chas'd 

The  bleeding  fons  of  Nile,  when  Egypt's  pride 

Before  the  fvvord  of  Hyperanthes  fell. 

That  lov'd  companion  Teribazus  views 

By  all  abandon'd,  in  his  gore  outftretch'd 

The  vi&or's  fpoil.     His  languid  fpirit  ftarts; 

He  rufhes  ardent  from  the  Perfian  line ; 

The  wounded  warrior  in  his  ftrong  embrace 

He  bears  away.     By  indignation  ftung, 

Fierce  from  the  Grecians  Diophantus  fends 

A  loud  defiance.    Teribazus  leaves 

His  refcu'd  friend.     His  mafly  fhield  he  rears ; 

High-brandilhing  his  formidable  fpear, 

He  turns  intrepid  on  th'  approaching  foe. 

Amazement  follows.     On  he  ftrides,  and  (hakes 

The  plumed  honours  of  his  (hining  creft. 

Th'  ill-fated  Greek  awaits  th'  unequal  fight, 

Pierc'd  in  the  throat,  with  founding  arms  he  fallj. 

Through  ev'ry  file  the  Mandneans  mourn. 

Long  on  the  (kin  the  vidor  fix'd  his  fight 

With  thefe  refledions.     By  thy  fplendid  arms 

Thou  art  a  Greek  of  no  ignoble  rank. 

From  thy  ill  fortune  1  perhaps  derive 

A  more  confpicuous  luftre — What  if  heav'n 

•  hould  add  new  vidims,  fuch  as  thou,  to  grace 

My  undeferving  hand  ?  who  knows,  but  (he 

Might  fmile  upon  my  trophies.  Oh  !  vain  thought ! 

I  fee  the  pride  of  Afia's  monarch  fwell 

With  vengeance  fatal  to  her  beauteous  head. 

Difperfe,   ye  phantom  hopes.      Too  long,  torn 

heart, 

Hafl  thou  with  grief  contended.    Lo  \  I  plant 
My  foot  this  moment  on  the  verge  of  death, 
By  fame  invited,  by  defpair  impell'd 
To  pafs  th'  irremeable  bound.     No  more 
Shall  Teribazus  backward  turn  his  ftcp, 
But  here  conclude  his  doom*  Then  ceafe  to  heave., 
Thou  troubled  bofom,  ev'ry  thought  be  calm 
Now  at  th'  approach  of  everlafting  peace. 

He  ended ;  when  a  mighty  foe  drew  nigh, 
Not  lefs,  than  Dithyrambus.  Ere  they  join'd, 
The  Perfian  warrior  to  the  Greek  began  : 

Art  then  th'  unconquerable  chief,  who  mow'di 
Our  battle  down  ?  That  eagle  on  thy  (hield 
Too  well  proclaims  thee.     To  attempt  thy  force 
I  rafhly  purpos'd.     Tkat  my  fingle  arm 
Thou  deign'ft  to  meet,  accept  my  thanks,  and 

know, 

The  thought  of  conqueft  lefs  employs  my  foal, 
Than  admiration  of  thy  glorious  deeds, 
And  that  by  thee  I  cannot  fall  difgrac'd. 

He  ceas'd.    Thefe  words  the  Thefpian  youth 

return'd : 

Of  all  the  praifes  from  thy  gen'rous  mouth 
The  only  portion,  my  defert  may  claim, 
Is  this  my  bold  adventure  to  confront 
Thee,  yet  unmatch'd.     What  Grecian  hath  not 

mark'd 

Thy  flaming  fteel  ?  from  Afia's  bonndlefs  camp 
Not  one  hath  equall'd  thy  vidorious  might. 
But  whence  thy  armour  of  the  Grecian  form  ? 
Whence  thy  tall  fpear,  thy  helmet  ?  Whence  tli? 

weight 

Of  that  ftrong  (hield  ?  Unlike  thy  eaftern  frienck. 
Q  ii  thou  be'ft  fome  fugitive,  who,  loft 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


To  liberty  and  virtue,  art  become 
A  tyrant's  vile  ftipendiary,  that  arm, 
That  valour  thus  triumphant  I  deplore, 
Which  after  all  their  efforts  and  fuccefs 
Deferve  no  honour  from  the  gods,  or  men. 

Here  Teribazus  in  a  figh  rejoin'd, 
I  am  to  Greece  a  ftranger,  am  a  wretch 
To  thee  unknown,  who  courts  this  hour  to  die, 
Yet  not  ignobly,  but  in  death  to  raife 
My  name  from  darknefs,  while  I  end  my  woes. 
The  Grecian  then  :  1  view  thee,  and  I  mourn. 
A  dignity,  which  virtue  only  bears, 
Firm  refolution,  feated  on  thy  brow, 
Though  grief  hath  dimm'd  thy  drooping  eye,  de 
mand 

My  veneration ;  and  whatever  be 
The  malice  of  thy  fortune,  what  the  cares, 
Infefting  thus  thy  quiet,  they  create 
Within  my  breaft  the  pity  of  a  friend. 
Why  then,  conftraining  my  reluctant  hand 
To  act  againfi  thee  will  thy  might  fupport 
Th'  unjuft  ambition  of  malignant  kings, 
The  foes  to  virtue,  liberty  and  peace  ? 
Vet  free  from  rage,  or  enmity  I  lift 
AIy  adverfe  weapon.     Victory  I  aflc. 
Thy  life  may  fate  for  happier  days  referve. 

This  faid,  their  beaming  lances  they  protend, 
Of  hoftile  hate,  ot  fury  both  devoid, 
As  on  the  Ifthmian,  or  Olympic  lands 
For  fame  alone  contending.     Either  hod, 
Pois'd  Oji  their  arms,  in  filent  wonder  gaze. 
The  fight  commences.    Soon  the  Grecian  fpear, 
Which  all  the  day  in  conftant  battle  worn, 
Uhnumber'd  fhields  and  corfelets  had  transfix'd, 
Againft  the  Perfian  buckler,  fhiv'ring,  breaks, 
Its  matter's  hand  difarming.  Then  began 
The  fenfe  of  honour,  and  the  dread  of  fhame 
To  fvvell  in  Dithyrambus.  Undifmay'd, 
He  grappled  with  his  foe,  and  inftant  feiz'd 
His  threafe'ning  fpear,  before  th'  uplifted  arm 
Could  execute  the  meditated  wound. 
The  weapon  burtt  between  their  ftruggling  grafp. 
Their  hold  they  loofen,  bare  their  fhinihg  fwords. 
With  equal  fwiftnefs  to  defend,  or  charge, 
Each  active  youth  advances  and  recedes. 
On  ev'ry  fide  they  traverfe.  Now  direct, 
Obliquely  now  the  wheeling  blades  defcend. 
Still  is  the  conflict  dubious;  when  the  Greek. 
Diffembling,  points  his  falchion  to  the  ground, 
His  arm  deprcfiing.  as  o'ercome  by  toil : 
While  with  his  buckler  cautious  he  repels 
The  blows,  repeated  by  his  active  foe. 
Greece  trembles  for  her  hero.    Joy  pervades 
The  ranks  of  Afia  ;  Hyperanthes  ftrides 
Before  the  line,  preparing  to  receive 
His  friend  triumphant :  while  the  wary  Greek 
Calm  and  defenfive  bears- th'  affault.  At  laft, 
As  by  th'  incautious  fury  of  his  fhrokes, 
The  Perfian  fwung  his  cov'ring  fliield  afide, 
The  fatal  moment  Dithyrambus  feiz'd. 
Light  darting  forward  with  his  feet  outftretch'd, 
Between  th'  unguarded  ribs  he  plung'd  his  fteel. 
Affection,  grief,  and  terror,  wing  the  fpeed 
Of  Hyperanthes.  From  his  bleeding  foe 
The  Greek  retires,  not  diftant,  and  awaits 
The  Perfian  prince.  But  he  with  wat'ry  cheeks 
In  fpeechlefs  anguifh  clafps  his  dying  friend  ; 
From  whofe  cold  lip  with  interrupted  phrafs 


Thefe  accents  break :  0  deareft,  beft  of  men ! 
Teh  thoufand  thoughts  of  gratitude  and  love 
Are  ftruggling  in  my  heart — O'erpow'ring  fate 
Denies  my  voice  the  utt'rance— O  my  friend  ! 

0  Hyperanthes  !  Hear  my  tongue  unfold 
What,  had   I  liv'd,  thou  never  fhould'ft  have 

known. 

1  lov'd  thy  fitter.  With  defpair  1  lov'd. 
Soliciting  this  honourable  doom, 
Without  regret  in  Perfia's  fight  and  thine 
I  fall.  Th'  inexorable  hand  of  fate 

Weighs  down  his  eyelids,  and  the  gloom  of  death 
His  fleeting  light  eternally  o'erfhades. 
Him  on  Choafpes  o'er  the  blooming  verge 
A  frantic  mother  fhall  bewail ;  fhall  ftrew 
Her  filver  treffes  in  the  cryftal  wave  : 
While  all  the  fhores  re-echo  to  the  name 
Of  Teribazus  loft.  Th'  afflified  prince, 
Contemplating  in  tears  the  pallid  corfe, 
Vents  in  thcfe  words  the  bitternefs  of  grief: 

Oh,  Teribazus !  Oh  I   my  friend,  whofe  loft 
I  will  deplore  for  ever.  Oh  !  what  pow'r, 
By  me,  by  thee  offended,  clos'd  thy  breaft 
To  Hyperanthes  in  diftruft  tinkind  ! 
rfhe  fhould,  fhe  muft  have  lov'd  thee— Now  &• 

more 

Thy  placid  virtues,  thy  inftrudUve  tongue 
Shall  drop  their  fweetnefs  on  my  fecret  hours. 
But  in  complaints  doth  friendfhip  wafte  the  time, 
Which  to  immediate  vengeance  fhould  be  giv'n. 

He  ended,  rufhing furious  on  the  Greek; 
>Vho  while  his  gallant  enemy  expir'd, 
While  Hyperanthes  tenderly  receiv'd 
The  laft  embraces  of  his  gafping  frien 6% 
Stood  nigh,  reclin'd  in  fadnefs  on  his  fhielcT, 
And  in  the  pride  of  victory  repin'd. 
Unmark'd,  his  foe  approach'd.  Butforward  fprung 
Diomedon.  Before  the  Thcfpian  youth 
Aloft  he  rais'd  his  targe,  and  loudly  thus  : 

Hold  thee  Barbarian,  from  a  life  more  worth, 
Than  thou  and  Xerxes  with  his  hoft  of  flaves. 
His  words  he  feconds  with  his  rapid  lance. 
Soon  a  tremendous  conflict  had  enfu'd; 
But  Intaphernes,  Mindus,  and  a  crowd 
Of  Perfian  lords,  advancing,  fill  the  fpace 
Betwixt  th'  encount'ring  chiefs.  In  mutual  wrath, 
With  fruitlefs  efforts  they  attempt  the  fight. 
So  rage  two  bulls  along  th'  oppofing  banks 
Of  fome  deep  flood,  which  parts  the  fruitful  mead. 
Defiance  thunders  from  their  angry  mouths 
In  vain  .  >.n  vain  the  furrow'd  fod  they  rend  ; 
Wide  rolls  the  ftream,  and  intercepts  the  war. 

As  by  malignant  fortune,  if  a  drop 
Of  moifture  mingles  with  a  burning  mafs 
Of  liquid  metal,  inftant  fhow'rs  of  death 
On  ev'ry  fide  th   exploding  fluid  fpreads ; 
So  difappointment  irritates  the  flame 
Of  fierce  Platxa's  chief,  whofe  vengeance  burfts 
In  wide  deftruetion.    Embas,  Daucus  fall, 
Arfxus,  Ochos,  Mendus,  Artias  die  ; 
And  ten  moft  hardy  of  th'  immortal  guard, 
To  fhivers  breaking  on  the  Grecian  fnield 
Their  geld-embellifh'd  weapons,  raife  a  mound 
O'er  thy  pale  body,  O  in  prime  deftroy'd, 
Of  Afia's  garden  once  the  faLeft  plant, 
Fall'n  Teribazus !  Thy  diftracted  friend 
From  this  thy  temporary  tomb  is  dragg'd 
By  forceful  zeal  «f  fatraps  to  the  fhorc; 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


"Where  then  the  brave  Abrocomes  arrang'd 
The  fuccours  new,  by  Abradates  brought, 
Orontes  and  Mazasus.   Turning  fwift, 
Abrocomes  inform'd  his  brother  thus  : 

Strong  reinforcement  from  th'  immortal  guard 
Pandates  bold  to  Intaphernes  leads, 
In  charge  to  harafs  by  perpetual  toil 
Thofe  Grecians  next  the  mountain.  Thou  unite 
To  me  thy  valour :  Here  the  hoftile  ranks 
Lefs  ftable  feern.  Our  joint  impreflion  try  ; 
Let  all  the  weight  of  battle  here  impend. 
Rouie,  Hyperanthes.  Give  regret  to  winds. 
Who  hath  not  loft  a  friend  this  direful  day  ? 
Let  not  our  private  cares  affift  the  Greeks, 
Too  ftrong  already;  or  let  forrovv  acl:  : 
Mourn  and  revenge.    Thefe  animating  words 
Send  Hyperanthes  to  the  foremoft  line  : 
His  vengeful  ardour  leads.  The  battle  joins. 

Who  ftemm'd  this  tide  of  onfet  ?  Who  imbru'd 
His  fhining  ipear  the  firft  in  Perfian  blood  ? 
Eupalamus.  Artembares  he  flew, 
"With  Derdas  fierce,  whom  Caucafushad  rcar'd 
On  his  tempefluous  brow,  the  favage  fons 
Of  violence  and  rapine.  But  their  doom 
fires  Hyperanthes,  whofe  vindictive  blade 
Arreftsthe  vicTror  in  his  haughty  courfe. 
Beneath  the  ftrong  Abrocomes  o'erwhelm'd, 
Meliffus  fwells  the  number  of  the  dead. 
None  could  Mycenae  boaft  of  prouder  birth, 
Than  young  Meliffus,  who  in  filver  mail 
The  line  embellifh'd.  He  in  Cirrha's  mead, 
Where  high  Parnaffus  from  his  double  top 
O'erfhades  the  Pythian  games,  the  envy'd  prize 
Of  fame  obtain'd.  Low  finks  his  laurell'd  head 
In  death's  cold  night ;  and  horrid  gore  deforms 
The  graceful  hair.  Impatient  to  revenge 
Ariftobulus  ftrides  before  the  van. 
A  ftorm  of  fury  darkens  all  his  brow. 
Around  he  rolls  his  gloomy  eye.  For  death 
Is  Alyattes  mark'd,  of  regal  blood, 
Deriv'd  from  Crccius,  once  imperial  lord 
Of  nations.  Him  the  nymphs  of  Halys  wept ; 
"When,  with  delufive  oracles  beguil'd 
By  Delphi's  god,  he  pafs'd  their  fatal  waves 
A  mighty  empire  to  diffolve  :  nor  knew 
Th'  ill-deftin'd  prince,  that  envious  fortune  watch'd 
That  direful  moment  from  his  hand  to  wrefk 
The  fceptre  of  his  fathers.  In  the  fhade 
Of  humble  life,  his  race  on  Timolus'  brow 
Lay  hid;  till,  rous'd  to  battle,  on  this  field 
Sinks  Alyattes,  and  a  royal  breed, 
In  him  extincl:  forever.  Lycis  dies, 
For  boift'rous  war  ill-chofen.  He  was  flcill'd 
To  tune  the  lulling  flute,  and  melt  the  heart ; 
Or  with  his  pipe's  awak'ning  ftrain  allure 
The  lovely  dames  of  Lydia  to  the  dance. 
They  on  the  verdant  level  graceful  mov'd 
In  vary'd  meafures;  while  the  cooling  breeze 
Beneath  their  fwelling  garments  wanton'd  o'er 
Their  fnowy  breads,  and  fniooth  Cayfter's  ftream, 
Soft-gliding,  murrmrr'd  by.  The  hoftile  blade 
Draws  forth  his  entrails.  Prone  he  falls.   Not  long 
The  victor  triumphs.  From  the  proftrate  corfe 
Of  Lycis,  while,  infulting,  he  extracts 
The  reeking  weapon,  Hyperanthes'  fteel 
Invades  his  knee,  and  cuts  the  iinewy  cords. 
The  Mycenaeans  with  uplifted  fhields, 
Corinthians  a.nd  Phliafians  clofe  around 


The  wounded  chieftain.  In  redoubled  rage 
The  conteft  glows.  Abrocomes  incites 
Each  noble  Perfian.  Each  his  voice  obeys. 
Here  Abradates,  there  Mazaeus  prefs, 
Orontes  and  Hydarnes.  None  retire 
From  toil,  or  peril.  Urg'd  on  ev'ry  fide, 
Mycenas's  band  to  fortune  leave  their  chief. 
Defpairing,  raging,  deftitute  he  ftands, 
Propt  on  his  fpear.  His  wound  forbids  retreat. 
None  but  his  brother,  Enmenes,  abides 
The  dire  extremity.  His  ftudded  orb 
Is  held  defenfive.  On  his  arm  the  fword 
Of  Hyperanthes  rapidly  defcends. 
Down  drops  the  buckler,  and  the  fever'd  hand 
Refigns  its  hold.  The  unprotected  pair 
By  Afia's  hero  to  the  ground  are  fwept ; 
As  to  a  reaper  crimfon  poppies  low'r 
Their  heads  luxuriant  on  the  yellow  plain. 
From  both  their  breafts  the  vital  currents  flow, 
And  mix  their  ftreams.   Elate  the  Perfians  pour 
Their  numbers,  deep'ning  on  the  foe  difmay'd. 
The  Greeks  their  ftation  painfully  maintain. 
This  Anaxander  faw,  whofe  faithlefs  tongue 
His  colleague  Leontiades  befpake  : 

The  hour  is  ccme  to  ferve  our  Perfian  friends. . 
Behold,  the  Greeks  are  prefs'd.  Let  Thebes  retire, 
A  bloodlels  conqueft  yielding  to  the  king. 

This  faid,  he  drew  his  Thebans  from  their  poft, 
Not  with  unpunifh'd  treachery.  The  lance 
Of  Abradates  gor'd  their  foul  retreat ; 
Nor  knew  the  Afian  chief,  that  Afia's  friends 
Before  him  bled.    Meantime,  as  mighty  Jove, 
Or  he  more  ancient  on  the  throne  of  heav'n, 
When  from  the  womb  of  Chaos  dark  the  world 
Emerg'd  to  birth,  where'er  he  view'd  the  jar 
Of  atoms  yet  difcordant  and  unform'd, 
Confufion  thence  with  pow'rful  voice  difpell'd, 
Till  light  and  order  univerfalreign'd ; 
So  from  the  hiil  Leonkias  furvey'd 
The  various  war.  He  i'aw  the  Theban  rout ; 
That  Corinth,  Phlius  and  Mycens  look'd 
Affrighted  backward.    Inftantly  his  charge 
Is  borne  by  Maron,  whom  obedience  wings, 
Precipitating  down  the  facred  cave, 
That  Sparta's  ranks,  advancing,  fhould  repair 
The  disunited  phalanx.  Ere  they  move, 
Dieneces  infpires  them.  Fame,  my  friends, 
Calls  forth  your  valour  in  a  fignal  hour. 
For  you  this  glorious  crifis  fhe  referv'd . 
Laconia's  fplendour  to  aflert.  Young  man, 
Son  of  Megiftias,  follow.  He  conduces 
Th'  experienc'd  troop.  They  lock  their  fhields, 

and,  wedg'd 

In  denfe  arrangement,  repoffefs  the  void, 
Left  by  the  faithlefs  Thebans,  and  repulfe 
Th'  exulting  Perfians.  When,  with  efforts  vain, 
Thefe  oft  renew'd  the  conteft,  and  recoil'd, 
As  oft  confounded  with  diminifh'd  ranks ; 
Lo  !  Hyperanthes  blufh'd,  repeating  late 
The  words  of  Artemifia.  Learn,  O  chiefs, 
The  only  means  of  glory  and  fuccefs. 
Unlike  the  others,  whom  we  newly  chas'd, 
Thefe  are  a  band  fele<5ted  from  the  Greeks, 
Perhaps  the  Spartans,  whom  we  often  hear 
By  Demaratus  prais'd.  To  break  their  line 
In  vain  we  llruggle,  unarray'd  and  lax, 
Depriv'd  of  union.  Do  not  we  prefide 
O'er  Afia's  armies,  and  our  courage  boaft, 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


Our  martial  art  above  the  vulgar  herd  ? 
Let  Us,  ye  chiefs,  attempt  in  order'd  ranks 
To  form  a  troop,  and  emulate  the  foe. 

They  wait  not  dubious.    On  the  Malian  fhore 
In  gloomy  depth  a  column  foon  is  form'd 
Of  all  the  nobles,  Abradates  ftrong, 
Orontes  bold,  Mazseus,  and  the  might 
Of  brave  Abrocome?,  with  each,  who  bore 
The  higheft  honours,  and  excell'd  in  arms; 
Thcmfelvcs  the  lords  of  nations,  who  before 
The  throne  of  Xerxes  tributary  bow'd. 
To  thefe  fucceed  a  chofen  number,  drawn 
From  Ada's  legions,  vaunted  moft  in  fight ; 
Who  from  their  kind  perpetual  ftip'encis  (hare; 
Who,  ftation'd  round  the  provinces,  by  force 
His  tyranny  uphold.  In  ev'ry  part 
Is  Hyperanthes  active,  ardent  feen 
Throughout  the  huge  battalion.  He  adjufts 
Their  equal  range,  then  cautious,  left  on  march 
Their  unaccuftom'd  order  fhould  relax, 
Full  in  the  centre  of  the  foremoft  rank 
Orontes  plants,  committing  to  his  hand 
Th'  imperial  ftandard  ;  whofe  expanded  folds 
Glow'd  in  the  air,  preferring  to  the  fun 
The  richeft  dye  of  Tyre.  The  royal  bird 
Amid  the  gorgeous  tincture  fhone  exprefs'd 
In  high  embroider'dgold.  The  wary  prince 
On  this  confpicuous,  leading  fign  of  war 
Commands  each  fatrap,  pofted  in  the  van, 
To  fix  his  eye  regardful,  to  direct 
By  this  alone  his  even  pace  and  flow, 
Retiring,  or  advancing.  So  the  ftar, 
Chief  of  the  fpangles  on  that  fancy'd  bear, 
Once  an  Idasan  nymph,  and  nurfe  of  Jove, 
Bright  Cynofura  to  the  Boreal  pole 
Attracts  the  failor's  eye ;  when  diftance  hides 
The  headland  fignals,  and  her  guiding  ray, 
New-ris'n,  fhe  throws.  The,hero  next  appoints, 
That  ev'ry  warrior  through  the  lengthening  files, 
©bferving  none  but  thofe  before  him  plac'd, 
Shall  watch  their  motions,  and  their  ileps  purfue. 
Nor  is  th'  important  thicket  next  the  pafs 
Forgot.  Two  thoufand  of  th'  immortal  guard 
That  ftation  feize.  His  orders  all  perform'd, 
Clofe  by  the  ftandard  he  afiumes  his  poft. 
Intrepid  thence  he  animates  his  friends. 

Heroic  chieftains,  whofe  unconquer'd  force 
Rebellious  Egypt,  and  the  Libyan  felt, 
Think  what  the  fplendour  of  your  former  deeds 
From  you  exa&s.  Remember,  from  the  great 
Illuftrious  actions  are  a  debt  to  fame. 
No  middle  path  remains  for  them  to  tread, 
Whom  fhe  hath  once  ennobled.  Lo  !  this  day 
By  trophies  new  will  fignalize  your  names, 
Or  in  difhonour  will  for  ever  cloud. 

He  faid,  and  vig'rous  all  to  fight  proceed. 
As  when  tempeftuous  Eurus  ftems  the  weight 
Of    weftern    Neptune,    ftruggling    through   the 

ftreights, 

Which  bound  Alcides'  labours,  here  the  ftorm 
With  rapid  wing  reverberates  the  tide ; 
There  the  contending  furge  with  furrow'd  tops 
To  mountainsjfwells,  and,  whelming  o'er  the  beach 
On  either  coaft,  impels  the  hoary  foam 
On  Mauritanian  and  Iberian  ftrands : 
Such  is  the  dreadful  onfct.  Perfia  keeps 
Her  foremoft  ranks  unbroken,  which  are  fill'd 
By  chofen  warriors ;  while  the  num'rous  crowd, 


Though  ftill  promifcuons  pouring  from  behind, 
Give  weight  and  prefiure  to  th'  embattled  chiefs, 
Defpifmg  danger.  Like  the  mural  ftrength 
Of  ibme  proud  city,  bulwark'd  round,  and  arm'd 
With  rifing  tow'rs  to  guard  her  wealthy  ftores, 
Immoveable,  impenetrable  flood 
Laconia's  ferry'd  phalanx.  In  their  face 
Grim  tyranny  her  threat'ning  fetters  fhakes, 
Red  havoc  grinds  infatiable  his  jaws. 
Greece  is  behind,  intrufting  to  their  fwords 
Her  laws,  her  freedom,  and  the  facred  urns 
Of  their  forefathers.  Prefenc  now  to  thought 
Their  altars  rife,  the  manfions  of  their  birth, 
Whate'er  they  honour,  venerate,  and  love. 

Bright  in  the  Perfian  van  th'  exalted  lance 
Of  Hyperanthes  flam'd.  Befide  him  prefs'd 
Abrocomes,  Hydarnes,  and  the  bulk 
Of  Abradates  terrible  in  war. 
Firm,  as  a  Memphian  pyramid,  was  feen 
Dieneces ;  while  Agis  clofe  in  rank 
With  Menalippus,  and  the  added  ftrength 
Of  dauntlefs  Maron,  their  connected  fhields 
Upheld.  Each  unrelax'd  array  maintains 
The  conflict  undecided  ;  nor  could  Greece 
Repel  the  adverfe  numbers,  nor  the  weight 
Of  Ada's  band  feleet  remove  the  Greeks. 

Swift  from  Laconia's  king,  perceiving  foon 
The  Perfian's  ne%v  arrangement,  Medon  flew, 
Who  thus  the  ftaid  Dieneces  addrefs'd  : 

Leohidas  commands  the  Spartan  ranks 
To  meafure  back  fome  paces.  Soon,  he  deems, 
The  unexperienc'd  foes  in  wild  purfuit 
Will  break  their  order.  Then  the  charge  renew* 

This  heard,  the  fignal  of  retreat  is  giv'n. 
The  Spartans  feem  to  yield.  The  Perfians  ftop. 
Aftonifhment  reftrains  them,  and  the  doubt 
Of  unexpected  victory.  Their  floth 
Abrocomes  awakens.   By  the  fun 
They  fly  before  us.  My  victorious  friends, 
Do  you  delay  to  enter  Greece.  Away, 
Rufli  on  intrepid.   I  already  hear 
Our  horfe,  our  chariots,  thund'ring  on  her  plains, 
I  fee  her  temples  wrapt  in  Perfian  fires. 

He  fpake.  In  hurry'd  violence  they  roll 
Tumultuous  forward.  All  in  headlong  pace 
Disjoin  their  order,  and  the  line  difiblve. 
This  when  the  fage  Dieneces  defcries, 
The  Spartans  ha'u,  returning  to  the  charge 
With  fudden  vigour.  In  a  moment  pierc'd 
By  hisrefiftlefs  fteel,  Orontes  falls, 
And  quits  th'  imperial  banner.  This  the  chief 
In  triumph  waves.  The  Spartans  prefs  the  foe. 
Clofe-wedg'd  and  fquare,  in  flow,  progreflive  pace, 
O'er  heaps  of  mangled  carcafes  and  arms 
Invincible  they  tread.  Competing  flutes 
Each  thought,  each  motion  harmonize.  No  rage 
Untunes  their  fouls.   The  phalanx  yet  more  deep 
Of  Medon  follows ;  while  the  lighter  bands 
Glide  by  the  flanks,  and  reach  the  broken  foe.    • 
Amid  their  flight  what  vengeance  from  the  arm 
Of  Alpheus  falls  ?  O'er  all  in  fwift  purfuit 
Was  he  renown'd.  His  active  feet  had  match'd 
The  fon  of  Peleus  in  the  dufty  courfe ; 
But  now  the  wrongs, the  long-remember'd  wrongs 
Of  Polydorus  animate  his  ftrength 
With  tenfold  vigour.  Like  th'  empurpled  moon, 
When  in  eclipfc  her  filrer  difk  hath  loft 
The  wonted  light,  his  buckler's  polifh'd  face 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


Is  now  obfcfcr M;  the  figur'd  boffes  drop 

In  crimfon,  ;  -juting  from  his  deathful  ftrokes. 

As,  when  with  horror  wing'd,  a  whirlwind  rends 

A  fnatter'd  navy;  from  the  ocean  call, 

Enormous  fragments  hide  the  level  beach ; 

Such  as  dejected  Perfia  late  beheld 

On  Theflaiy's  unnavigable  flrand: 

Thus  o'er  the  champain  fatraps  lay  beftrewn 

By  Alpheus,  perfevering  in  purfuit 

Beyond  the  pat's.    Not  Phoebus  could  inflict 

On  Niobe  more  vengeance,  when,  incens'd 

By  her  maternal  arrogance,  which  fcorn'd 

Latona's  race,  he  twang'd  his  ireful  bow, 

And  one  by  one  from  youth  and  beauty  hurl'd 

Her  fbns  to  Pluto  ;  nor  feverer  pangs 

That  mother  felt,  than  pierc'd  the  gen'rous  foul 

Of  Hyperanthes,  while  his  nobleft  friends 

On  ev'ry  fide  lay  gafping.    With  defpair 

He  ftill  contends.   Th'  immortals  from  their  ftand 

Behind  th'  entangling  thicket  next  the  pafs 

His  fignal  roufe«.    Ere  they  clear  their  way, 

Well-caution'd  Medon  from  the  clofe  defile 

Two  thoufandLocrians  pours.    An  afpedt  new 

The  fight  aflumes.    Through  implicated  fhrubs 

Confufion  waves  each  banner.    Falchions,  fpears 

And  fhields  arc  all  enciunber'd,  till  the  Greeks 

Had  forc'd  a  paflage  to  the  yielding  foe. 

Then  Medon's  arm  is  felt.    The  dreadful  boar, 

Wide-wafting  once  the  Calydonian  fields, 

In  fury  breaking  from  his  gloomy  lair, 

Rang'd  with  lefs  havoc  through  unguarded  folds, 

Than  Medon,  fweeping  down  the  glitt'ring  files, 

So  vainly  flyl'd  immortal.    From  the  cliff 

Divine  Meliffa,  and  Laconia's  king, 

Enjoy  the  glories  of  Oileus'  fon. 

Fierce  Alpheus  too,  returning  from  his  chafe, 

Joins  in  the  flaughter.    Ev'ry  Perfian  falls. 

To  him  the  Locrian  chief.      Brave   Spartan, 

thanks. 

Through  thee  my  purpofe  is  accor.iplifh'd  full. 
My  phalanx  here  with  levell'd  rows  of  fpears 
Shall  guard  the  matter' d  bufhes.    Come  what  may 
From  Afia's  camp,  th'  affaiiant,  fiank'd  and  driv'n 
Down  yonder  flope,  fhall  perifh.    Gods  of  Greece, 
You  fhall  behold  your  fanes  profufely  deck'd 
In  fplendid  offerings  from  barbarian  fpoils, 
Won  by  your  free-born  fupplicants  this  day. 
This  faid,  he  forms  his  ranks.  Their  threat'ning 

points 
Gleam  through  the  thicket,  whence  the  fhiv'ring 

foes 

Avert  their  fight,  like  paffengers  difmay'd, 
Who  on  their  courfe  by  Nile  s  portentous  banks 
Defcry  in  ambufli  of  perfidious  reeds 
The  crocodile's  fell  teeth.    Contiguous  lay 
Thermopylae.    Dieneces  fecur'd 
The  narrow  mouth.     Two  lines  the   Spartans 

fhow'd, 

One  tow'rds  the  plain  obferv'd  the  Perfian  camp ; 
One,  led  by  Agis,  fac'd  th'  interior  pafs. 

Not  yet  difcourag'd,  Hyperanthes  ftrrves 
The  fcatter'd  hoft  to  rally.    He  exhorts, 
Entreats,  at  length  indignant  thus  exclaims. 

Degen'rate  Perfians  !  to  fepulchral  duft 
Could  breath  return,  your  fathers  from  the  tomb 
Would  utter  groan?.    Inglorious,  do  ye  leave 
Behind  you  Perfia's  ftandard"to  adorn 
Some  Grecian  temple  ?  Can  your  fplendid  cars. 


Voluptuous  couches,  and  delicious  boards, 
Your  gold,  your  gems,  ye  fatraps,  be  preferv'd 
By  cowardice  and  flight  ?  The  eunuch  flave 
Will  fcorn  fuch  lords,  your  women  lothe  your 
beds. 

Few  hear  him,  fewer  follow ;  while  the  fight 
His  unabating  courage  oft  renews, 
As  oft  repuls'd  with  danger :  till,  by  all 
Deferted,  mixing  in  the  gen'ral  rout, 
He  yields  to  fortune,  and  regains  the  camp. 
In  fhort  advances  thus  the  dying  tide 
Beats  for  a  while  againft  the  {helving  ftrand, 
Still  by  degrees  retiring,  and  at  laft 
Within  the  bofom  of  the  main  fubfides. 

Though  Hyperanthes  from  the  fight  was  driv'», 
Clofe  to  the  mountain,  whofe  indented  fide 
There  gave  the  widen'd  pafs  an  ample  fpace 
For  numbers  to  embattle,  ftill  his  pofl 
Bold  Intaphernes  underneath  a  cliff 
Againft.  the  firm  Platxan  line  maintain'd. 
On  him  look'd  down  Leonidas  like  death, 
When,  from  his  iron  cavern  call'd  by  Jover 
He  (lands  gigantic  on  a  mountain's  head  ; 
Whence  he  commands  th'  affrighted  earth  to  quake, 
And,  crags  and  forefts  in  his  direful  grafp, 
High-wielding,  dafhes  on  a  town  below, 
Whofe  deeds  of  black  impiety  provoke 
The  long-enduring  gods.    Around  the  verge 
Of  Oeta,  curving  to  a  crefcent's  fhape, 
The  marbles,  timbers,  fragments,  lay  amafs'd. 
The  Helots,  peafants,  mariners,  attend 
In  order  nigh  Leonidas.    They  watch 
His  look.   He  gives  the  fignal.    Rons' d  at  once 
The  force,  the  {kill,  activity  and  zeal 
Of  thoufands  are  combin'd.    Down  nifh  the  piles. 
Trees,  roll'd  on  trees,  with  mingled  rack  dcfcend, 
Unintermitted  ruin.    Loud  refound 
The  hollow  trunks  againft  the  mountain's  fide. 
Swift  bounds  each  craggy  mafs.   The  foes  below 
Look  up  aghaft,  in  horror  fhrink  and  die. 
Whole  troops,  o'erwhelm'd  beneath  th'  enormou* 

load, 

Lie  hid  and  loft,  as  never  they  had  known 
A  name  or  being.   Intaphernes  clad 
In  regal  fplendour,  progeny  of  kings, 
Who  rul'd  Damafcus,  and  the  Syrian  palms, 
Here  flept  for  ever.    Theufands  of  his  train 
In  that  broad  fpace  the  ruins  had  not  reach'd. 
Back  to  their  camp  a  paffage  they  attempt 
Through  Lacedemon's  line.    Them  Agis  ftopp'd. 
Before  his  powerful  arm  Pandates  fell, 
Sofarmes,  Tachos.    Menalippus  dy'd 
His  youthful  fteel  in  blood.    The  mightier  fpear 
Of  Maron  pierc'd  battalions,  and  enlarg'd 
The  track  of  flaughter.  Backward  turn'd  the  rout, 
Nor  found  a  milder  fate.    Th'  unweary'd  fwords 
Of  Dithyrambus  and  Diomedon, 
Who  from  the  hill  are  wheeling  on  their  flank, 
Still  flafh  tremendous.    To  the  more  they  fly, 
At  once  envelop'd  by  fucceffive  bands 
Of  diff 'rent  Grecians.    From  the  gulf  profound 
Perdition  here  inevitable  frowns, 
While  there,  encircled  by  a  grove  of  fpears, 
They  ftand  devoted  hecatombs  to  Mars. 
Now  not  a  moment's  interval  delays 
Their  gen'ral  doom  ;  but  down  the  Malian  fteep 
Prone  are  they  hurry'd  to  th'  expanded  arms 
Of  horror,  rifing  from  the  oozy  deep, 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


And  grafping  all  their  numbers  as  they  fall. 

The  dire  coufufion  like  a  ftorm  invades 

The  chafing  furge.    Whole  troops  Bellona  rolls 

Jn  one  vaft  ruin  from  the  craggy  ridge. 

O'pr  all  their  arms,  their  enfigns,  deep-ingulf 'd,' 

With  hideous  roar  the  waves  for  ever  dole. 


BOOK  IX. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

NIGHT  coming  on,  the  Grecians  retire  to  their 
tents.  A  guard  is  placed  on  the  Phocian  wall 
under  the  command  of  Agis.  He  admits  into 
the  camp  a  lady,  accompanied  by  a  {ingle  Have, 
and  conduces  them  to  Leonidas;  when  fhe  dif- 
covers  herfelf  to  be  Ariana,  filter  of  Xerxes  and 
Hyperanthes,  and  fues  for  the  body  of  Teriba- 
zus ;  which  being  found  among  the  flam,  fhe 
kills  herfelf  upcir  it.  The  Have  who  attended 
her  proves  to  be  Polydorus,  brothsr  to  Alpheus 
and  Maran,  and  who  had  been  formerly  carried 
into  captivity  by  a  Phoenician  pirate.  He  re 
lates,  before  an  affembly  of  the  chiefs,  a  mef- 
iage  from  Demaratus  to  the  Spartans,  which 
difclofes  the  treachery  of  the  Thcbans,  and  of 
Epialtes,  the  Malian,  who  had  undertaken  to 
lead  part  of  the  Perfian  army  through  a  pafs 
amoung  the  mountains  of  Oeta.  This  informa 
tion  throws  the  council  into  a  great  tumult, 
which  is  pacified  by  Leonidas,  who  fends  Al 
pheus  to  obferve  the  motions  of  thefe  Perfians, 
and  Dieneces  with  a  party  of  Lacedemonians  to 
fupport  the  Phocians,  with  whom  the  defence 
of  thefe  paffages  in  the  hills  had  been  intrufted. 
Jn  the  mean  time,  Agis  fends  the  bodies  of  Te- 
ribazus  and  Ariana  to  the  camp  of  Xerxes. 

IN  fable  vefture,  fpangled  o'er  with  ftars, 

The  night  affum'd  her  tkrone.     RecalFd  from 

war, 

Their  toil,  protracted  long,  the  Greeks  forget, 
Diffolv'd  in  filent  flumber  all,  but  thofe 
\Vho  watch  th'  uncertain  perils  of  the  dark, 
A  hundred  warriors.    Agis  was  their  chief. 
High  on  the  wall  intent  the  hero  fat. 
rrcfli  winds  acrofs  the  undulating  bay 
From  Afia'«  hoft  the  various  din  convey'd 
In  one  deep  murmur,  fwelling  on  his  ear. 
"When  by  the  found  of  footfteps  down  the  nafs 
Alarrn'd,  he  calls  aloud.    What  feet  are  thefe 
Which  beat  the  echoing  pavement  of  the  rock  ? 
Reply,  nor  tempt  inevitable  fate. 

A  voice  reply'd.    No  enemies  we  come, 
But  crave  admittance  in  an  humble  tone. 

The  Spartan  anfvvcrs.     Through  the  midnight 

fhade 
"What  purpofe  draws  your  wand'ring  fteps  abroad? 

To  whom   the  ftranger.     We  are  friends  to 

Greece. 

Through  thy  afliftance  we  implore  accefs 
To  Lacedemon's  king.    The  cautious  Greek 
Still  hefitates ;  when  mufically  fweet 
A  tender  voice  his  wond'ring  ear  allures. 

O  gen'rous  warrior,  liften  to  the  pray'r 
Of  one  diftrefs'd,  whom  grief  alone  hath  led 
Through  midnight  fhades  to  thefe  victorious  tents, 
A  wretched  woman,  innocent  of  fraud. 


The   chief,  dcfccnding,  through  th'  unfcldod 

gates 

Upheld  a  flaming  torch.    The  light  difclos'd 
One  firft  in  fcrvile  garments.    Near  his  fide 
A  woman  graceful  and  majeflic  flood, 
Not  with  an  afpeet,  rivalling  the  pow'r 
Of  fatal  Helen,  or  th'  enfnaring  charms 
Of  love's  foft  queen,  but  fuch  as  far  furpafs'd, 
Whate'er  the  lily,  blending  with  the  role, 
Spreads  on  the  cheek  of  beauty  foon  to  fade  j 
Such  as  cxprefc'd  a  mind  by  wifdom  rul'd, 
By  fweetnefs  temper'd ;  virtue's  pureft  light 
Illumining  the  countenance  divine  : 
Yet  could  not  foften  rig'rous  fate,  nor  charm 
Malignant  fortune  to  revere  the  good ; 
Which  oft  with  anguifli  rends  a  fpotlefs  heart* 
And  oft  aflbciates  wifdom  with  defpair. 
In  courteous  phrafe  began  the  chief  humane. 

Exalted  fair,  whofe  form  adorns  the  night, 
Forbear  to  bhrne  the  vigilance  of  war. 
My  flow  compliance  to  the  rigid  laws 
Of  Mars  impute.    In  me  no  longer  panfc 
Shall  from  the  prefence  of  our  king  withhold 
This  thy  apparent  dignity  and  worth. 

Here  ending,  he  conduces  her.    At  the  caH 
Of  his  lov'd  brother  from  his  couch  arofe 
Leonidas.    In  wonder  he  ftirvey'd 
Th'  illuftrious  virgin,  whom  his  prefence  a\v*cU 
Her  eye  fubmiffive  to  the  ground  declin'd 
Jn  veneration  of  the  godlike  man. 
His  mien,  his  voice,  her  anxious  dread  difpel, 
Benevolent  and  hofpitable  thu=. 

Thy  looks,  fair  ftranger,  amiable  nnd  great^   ' 
A  mind  delineate,  which  from  all  commands 
Supreme  regard.    Relate,  thou  nobk  dame, 
By  what  rekntlefs  deftiny  compell'd, 
Thy  tender  feet  the  paths  of  dad  nefs  tread ; 
Rehearfe  th*  afflictions,  whence  thy  virtue  mourns, 

On  her  wan  cheek  a  fudden  blufh  arofe 
Like  day,  firll  dawning  on  fhe  twilight  pale; 
When,  wrapt  in  grief,  th-.'ii.  words  a  paflage  found. 

If  to  be  rnoft  unhappy,  and  to  know 
That  hope-  is  irrecoverably  fled  ; 
If  to  be  gteat  and  wretched  may  deferte 
Commiferation  from  the  brave  ;  behold, 
Thou  glorious  leader  of  unconquer'd  bands, 
Behold,  defccnded  from  Darius'  loins,  .$ 

Th'  afflicted  Ariana  ;  and  my  pray'r 
Accept  with  pity,  nor  my  tears  difdain. 
Firft,  that  I  lov'd  the  beft  of  human  race, 
Heroic,  wife,  adorn'd  by  ev'ry  art, 
Of  fhame  unconuious  doth  my  heart  reveal. 
This  day,  in  Grecian  arms  confpicuous  clad, 
He  fought,  he  fell.    A  paflion,  long  conceal  4, 
For  me,  alas  !  within  my  brother's  arms 
His  dying  hreath  refigning,  he  difclos'd. 
Oh  !  I  will  ftay  my  forrows !  will  forbid 
My  eyes  to  ftream  before  thee,  and  my  breaft, 
O'erwhelm'd  by  anguih:,  will  from  fighs  reftrain  f 
For  why  fhould  thy  humanity  be  griev'd 
At  my  diftrefs  ?  why  learn  from  me  to  mourn 
The  lot  of  mortals,  doom'd  to  pain  and  woe. 
Hear  then,  O  king,  and  grant  my  fole  requeil, 
To  feek  his  body  in  tL:  heaps  of  flain. 

Thus  to  the  hero  fu'il  the  royal  maid, 
Refembling  Ceres  in  maieftic  v.  oe. 
When  fupplicating  Jove  from  Stygian  gloopi. 
And  Pluto's  black  embraces  to  redeem 


5*6 


THE   WORKS   OF  'GLOVER. 


Her  lov'd  and  loft  Froferpina.    A  while 

On  Ariana  fixing  ftedfaft  eyes, 

Thefe  tender  thoughts  Lconidas  recall'd. 

Such  are  thy  forrows,  O  for  ever  dear, 
Who  now  at  Lacedemon  dolt  deplore 
My  everlafting  abfence.    Then  afide 
He  turn'd  and  figh'd.    Recov'ring,  he  addrefs'd 
His  brother.    Moft  beneficent  of  men, 
Attend,  affift  this  princefs.    Night  retires 
Before  the  purple-winged  morn.    A  band 
Is  call'd.    The  well-remember'd  fpot  they  find, 
Where  Tei  ibazus  from  his  dying  hand 
Dropt  in  their  fight  his  formidable  fword. 
Soon  from  beneath  a  pile  of  Afian  dead 
They  draw  the  hero,  by  his  armour  known. 

Then,  Ariana,  what  tranfcending  pangs 
Were  thine  !  what  horrors !  In  thy  tender  breaft 
Love  flill  was  mightieft,    On  the  bofom  cold 
Of  Tcribazus,  grief-diftracted  maid, 
Thy  beauteous  limbs  were  thrown.    Thy  fnowy 

hue 

The  clotted  gore  disfigur'd.    On  his  wounds 
Loofc  flow'd  thy  hair ;  and,  bubbling  from  thy 

eyes, 

Impetuous  forrow  lav'd  th'  empurpled  clay. 
When  forth  in  groans  thefe  lameritations  broke. 

O  torn  for  ever  from  thefe  weeping  eyes ! 
Thou,  who  defpairing  to  obtain  a  he*rt, 
Which  then  moft  lov'd  thee,  didft  untimely  yield 
Thy  life  to  fate's  inevitable  dart 
For  her,  who  now  in  agony  reveals 
Her  tender  paffion,  who  repeats  her  vows 
To  thy  deaf  ear,  who  fondly  to  her  own 
Unites  thy  cheek  infenfible  and  cold. 
Alas !  do  thofe  unmoving,  ghaftly  orbs 
Perceive  my  gufhing  forrow  !  Can  that  heart 
At  my  complaint  diffolve  the  ice  of  death 
To  fhare  my  fuff'rings  !  Never,  never  more 
Shall  Ariana  bend  a  lift'ning  ear 
To  thy  enchanting  eloquence,  nor  feaft 
Her  mind  on  wifdom  from  thy  copious  tongue  ! 
Oh  !  bitter,  infurmountable  diftrefs ! 

She  could  no  more.    Invincible  defpair 
Supprefs'd  all  utterance.    As  a  marble  form, 
Fix'd  on  the  folemn  fepulchre,  inclines 
The  filent  head  in  imitated  woe 
O'er  fome  dead  hero,  whom  his  country  lov'd  ; 
Entranc'd  by  anguifh,  o'er  the  breathlefs  clay 
So  hung  the  princefs.    On  the  gory  breach, 
Whence  life  had  iffu'd  by  the  fatal  blow, 
Mute  for  a  fpace  and  motionlefs  {he  gaz'd ; 
When  thuS'in  accents  firm.    Imperial  pomp, 
Foe  to  my  quiet,  take  my  laft  farewell. 
There  is  a  ftate,  where  only  virtue  holds 
The  rank  fupreme.    My  Teribazus  there 
Prom  his  high  order  muft  defcend  to  mine. 

Then  with  no  trembling  hand,  no  change  of 

look, 

She  drew  a  poniard,  which  her  garment  veil'd; 
And  inftant  fheathmg  in  her  heart  the  blade, 
On  her  flain  lover  filent  funk  in  death. 
The  unexpected  ftroke  prevents  the  care 
Of  A<jis,  pierc'd  by  horror  and  diftrefs, 
Like  one,  who,  {landing  on  a  ftormy  beach, 
Beholds  a  found'ring  vcffel,  by  the  deep 
At  once  engulf 'd ;  his  pity  feels  and  mourns, 
Depriv'd  of  pow'r  to  fave  :  fo  Agis  view'd 
The  proftrate  pair.   He  dropp'd  a  tear,  and  thus. 


Oh  !  much  lamented  !  Heavy  on  your  heads 
Hath  evil  faU'n,  which  o'er  your  pale  remains 
Commands  this  forrow  from  a  ftranger's  eye. 
Illuftrious  ruins  !  May  the  grave  impart 
That  peace  which  life  deny'd  !  and  now  receive 
This  pious  office  from  a  hand  unknown. 

He  fpake,  unclafping  from  his  fhoulders  broad 
His  ample  robe.    He  itrew'd  the  waving  fold* 
O'er  each  wan  vifage,  turning  then,  addrefs'd 
1'he  Have,  in  mute  dejedtion  [landing  near. 

Thou,  who  attendant  on  this  haplefs  fair, 
Haft  view'd  this  dreadful  fpedtacle,  return. 
Thefe  bleeding  relics  bear  to  Perfia's  king, 
Thou  with  four  captives,  whom  I  free  from  bonds. 

Art  thou  a  Spartan,  interrupts  the  flave  ? 
Doft  thou  command  me  to  return,  and  pine 
In  climes  unblefs'd  by  liberty,  or  laws  .' 
Grant  me  to  fee  Leonidas.  Alone 
Let  him  decide,  if  wretched,  as  1  feem, 
I  may  not  claim  protection  from  this  camp: 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  rejoins  the  chief,  amaz'd. 
But  not  offended,  thy  ignoble  garb 
Conceal'd  a  fpirit,  which  I  now  revere. 
Thy  countenance  demands  a  better  lot 
Than  I,  a  ftrangcr  to  thy  hidden  worth, 
Unconfdous  offer'd.  Freedom  dwells  in  Greece, 
Humanity  and  juftice.  Thou  fhalt  fee 
Leonidas  their  guardian.  To  the  king 
He  leads  him  ftraight,  prefcnts  him  in  thefe  words. 

In  mind  fiiperior  to  the  bale  attire, 
Which  marks  his  limbs  with  {hame,  a  ftranger 

comes, 
Who  thy  protection  claims.  The  flave  fubjoins. 

I  Itand  thy   fuppliant  now.    Thou  foon   ihalt 

learn, 

If  I  dcferve  thy  favour.    I  requeft 
To  meet  th*  affembled  chieftains  of  this  hoft. 
Oh  !  I  am  fraught  with  tidings,  which  import 
The  weal  of  ev'ry  Grecian.  Agis,  fwift, 
Appointed  by  Leonidas,  convenes 
The  diff 'rent  leaders.  To  the  tent  they  fpeed. 
Before  thtm  call'd,  the  ftranger  thus  began. 

O  Alpheus  !  Maron !  Hither  turn  your  fight, 
And  know  your  brother.     From  their  leats  they 

ilait. 

From  either  breaks  in.ecftafy  the  name 
Of  Polydorus.  To  his  dear  embrace 
Each  fondly  ftrives  to  rufh  ;  but  he  withftands: 
While  down  his  cheek  a  flood  of  anguifh  pours 
From  his  dejected  eyes,  in  torture  bent 
On  that  vile  garb,  difhonouring  his  form. 
At  length  thefe  accents,  intermix'd  with  groans, 
A  pr.ffage  found,  while  mute  attention  gaz'd. 

You  firft  fhould  know,  if  this  unhappy  flave 
Yet  merits  your  embraces.    Then  approach'd 
Leonidas.  Before  him  all  recede, 
Ev'n  Alpheus'  felf,  and  yields  his  brother's  hand, 
Which  in  his  own  the  regal  hero  prefs'd. 
Still  Polydorus  on  his  gloomy  front. 
Repugnance  ftern  to  confolation  bore  ; 
When  thus  the  king  with  majefty  benign. 

Lo  !  ev'ry  heart  is  open  to  thy  worth. 
Injurious  fortune,  and  enfeebling  time, 
By  fervitude  and  grief  feverely  try 
A  lib'ral  fpirit.  Try'd,  but  not  lubdu'd, 
Do  thou  appear.   Whatever  be  our  lot. 
Is  Heav'n's  appointment.    Patience  beft  becomes 
The  citizen,  and  foldiejr.   Let  the  fight; 


L  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


527 


Of  friends  and  brethren  diflipate  thy  gloom. 

Of  men  the  gentleil,  Agis  too  advanc'd, 
Who  with  increas'd  humanity  began. 

Now  is  thy  native  liberty  iecure, 
Smile  on  thy  pafs'd  affliction,  and  relate 
What  chance  reftores  thy  merit  to  the  arms 
Of  friends  and  kindred.    Polydorus  then. 

I  was  a  Spartan.  When  my  tender  prime 
On  manhood  border'd,  from  JLaconia's  fhores, 
Snatch'd  by  Phoenician  pirates,  I  was  fold 
A  flave,  by  Hyperanthes  bought,  and  giv'n 
To  Ariana.  Gracious  was  her  hand. 
But  I  remain'd  a  bondman,  ftill  eftrang'd 
From  Lacedemon.  Demaratus  oft 
In  friendly  forrow  would  my  lot  deplore  ; 
Nor  lefs  his  own  ill-fated  virtue  mourn'd, 
Loft  to  his  country  in  a  fervile  court, 
The  centre  of  corruption;  where  in  fmiles 
Are  painted  envy,  treachery,  and  hate, 
With  rankling  malice ;  where  alone  fincere 
The  diffolute  feek  no  difguife  :  where  thofe, 
Poflefling  all,  a  monarch  can  beftow, 
Are  far  lefs  happy,  than  the  meaneft  heir 
To  freedom,  far  more  grovelling  than  the  flave, 
Who  ferves  their  cruel  pride.    Yet  here  the  fua 
Ten  times  his  yearly  circle  hath  renew'd, 
.Since  Polydorus  hath  in  bondage  groan'd. 
My  bloom  is  pafs'd,  or,  pining  in  defpair, 
Untimely  wither'd.  I  at  laft  return 
A  meffenger  of  fate,  who  tidings  bear 
Of  defolation.    Here  he  paus'd  in  grief 
Redoubled  ;  when  Leonidas.    Proceed. 
Should  from  thy  lips  inevitable  death 
To  all  be  threaten'd,  thou  art  heard  by  none, 
Whofe  dauntlefs  hearts  can  entertain  a  thought, 
But  how  to  fall  the  nobleft.    Thus  the  king. 
The  reft  in  fpeechlefs  expectation  wait. 
Such  was  the  folemn  iilence,  which  o'erfpread 
The  fhrine  of  Ammon,  or  Dodona's  fliades, 
When  anxious  mortals  from  the  mouth  of  Jove 
Their  doom  explor'd.  Nor  Polydorus  long 
Sufpends  the  counfel,  but  refumes  his  tale. 

As  I  this  night  accompany 'd  the  fteps  •> 
Of  Ariana,  near  the  pafs  we  faw 
A  reftlefs  form,  now  traverfing  the  way, 
Now  as  a  ftatue,  rivetted  by  doubt, 
Then  on  a  fudden  ftarting,  to  renew 
An  eager  pace.  As  nearer  we  approach'd, 
He  by  the  moon,  which  glimmer'd  on  our  heads, 
Defcry'd  us.   Straight  advancing,  whither  bent 
Our  midnight  comic,  he  afk'd.    I  knew  the  voice 
Of  Demaratus.  TomybreaftI  clafp'd 
The  venerable  exile,  and  reply'd. 
Laconia's  camp  we  feek.    Demand  no  more. 
Farewell.  He  wept.  Be  heav'n  thy  guide,  he  faid, 
Thrice  happy  Polydorus.  Thou  again 
May'ft  vifit  Sparta,  to  thefe  eyes  deny'd. 
Soon  as  arriv'd  at  thofe  triumphant  tents, 
Say  to  the  Spartans  from  their  exil'd  king, 
Although  their  blind  credulity  depriv'd 
The  wretched  Demaratus  of  his  home  ; 
From  ev'ry  joy  iecluded,  from  his  wife, 
His  offspring  torn,  his  countrymen,  and  friends,. 
Him  from  his  virtue  they  could  ne'er  divide. 
Say,  that  ev'n  lu.-re,  where  all  are  kings,  or  Haves, 
Amid  the  riot  of  flagitious  courts, 
Not  quite  extin£  his  Spartan  Ipirit  glows, 
Though  grief  h.uh  dimm'cl  its  fires.  Rsmqmb'^ing 
this, ' 


Report,  that  newly  to  the  Perfian  hoft 

Return'd  a  Malian,  Epialtes  nam'd,  » 

Who,  as  a  fpy,  the  Grecian  tents  had  fought. 

He  to  the  monarch  magnify'd  his  art, 

Which  by  delufive  eloquence  had  wrought 

The  Greeks  to  fuch  defpair ;  that  ev'ry  band 

To  Perfia's  fov' reign  ftandard  would  have  bow'd ; 

Had  not  the  fpirit  of  a  fmgle  chief, 

By  fear  unconquer'd,  and  on  death  refolv'd, 

Reftor'd  their  valour :  therefore  would  the  king 

Truft  to  his  guidance  a  felecfted  force, 

They  foon  ftiould  pierce  th'  unguarded  bounds  of. 

Greece 

Through  a  neglected  aperture  above, 
Where  no  Leonidas  ihould  bar  their  way  : 
Meantime  by  him  the  treach'rous  Thebans  fent 
Affurance  of  their  aid.  Th'  affenting  prince 
At  once  decreed  two  myriads  to  advance 
With  Hyperanthes.   Ev'ry  lord  befides, 
Whom  youth,  or  courage,  or  ambition  warm,    : 
Rous'd  by  the  traitor's  eloquence,  attend 
From  all  the  nations  with  a  rival  zeal 
To  enter  Greece  the  foremoft.  In  a  figh 
He  clos'd — like  me.    Tremendous  from  his  feat    ' 
Uprofe  Diomedon.    His  eyes  were  flames. 
When  fwift  on  trembling  Anaxander  broke 
Thefe  ireful  accents  from  his  livid  lips. 

Yet  ere  we  fall,  O  traitor  !  fhall  this  arm 
To  hell's  avenging  furies  fink  thy  head. 

All  now  is  tumult.  Ev'ry  bofom  fweils 
With  wrath  untam'd,  and  vengeance.     Half  un- 

fheath'd, 

Th'  impetuous  falchion  of  Platasa  flames. 
But,  as  the  Colchian  forcerefs,  rcnown'd 
In  legends  old,  or  Circe,  when  they  fram'd 
A  potent  fpell,  to  fmoothnefs  charm'd  the  main, 
And  lull'd  JEolian  rage  by  myftic  forig ; 
Till  not  a  billow  heav'd  againft  the  fhore, 
Nor  ev'n  the  wanton-winged  zephyr  breath'd 
The  lighted  whifper  through  the  magic  air . 
So  when  thy  voice,  Leonidas,  is  heard, 
Confufion  liftens ;  ire  in  filent  awe 
Subfides.  Withhold  this  rafhnefs,  cries  the  king. 
To  proof  of  guilt  let  punifhment  fucceed. 
Not  yet  barbarian  fhouts  our  camp  alarm. 
We  ftill  have  time  for  vengeance,  time  to  know, 
If  menac'd  ruin  we  may  yet  repel, 
Or  how  moft  glorious  perifh.  Next  arofe 
Dieneces,  and  thus  th'  experienc'd  man. 

Ere  they  furmount  our  fences,  Xerxes'  troops 
Muft  learn  to  conquer,  and  the  Greeks  to  fly. 
The  fpears  of  Phocis  guard  that  fecret  pafs. 
To  them  let  inftant  meffengers  depart, 
And  note  the  hoftile  progrefs.  Alpheus  here. 

Leonidas,  behold  !  my  willing  feet 
Shall  to  the  Phocians  bear  thy  high  commands ; 
Shall  climb  the  hill  to  watch  th'  approaching  foe. 

Thou  adlive  fon  of  valour,  quick  returns 
The  chief  of  Lacedemon,  in  my  thoughts 
For  ever  prefent,  when  the  public  weal 
Requires  the  fwift,  the  vigilant,  and  bold. 
Go  climb,  furmount  the  rock's  aerial  height. 
Obferve  the  hoftile  march.  A  Spartan  band, 
Dieneces,  provide.  Thyfelf  conduct 
Their  fpeedy  luccour  to  our  Phocian  friends. 

The  council  riles.  For  his  qourfe  prepar'd, 
While  day,  declining,  prompts  his  eager  feet, 
O  Polydorus !  Alpheus  thus  in  hafte, 
Long  loft,  and  late  recover'd,  we  muft  part 


THE   WORKS    OF    GLOVER. 


Again,  perhaps  for  ever.  Thou  return 
To  kifs  the  facred  foil  which  gave  thee  birth, 
And  calls  thee  back  to  freedom.  Brother  dear, 
I  fhould  have  fighs  to  give  thee — but  farewell. 
My  country  chides  me,  loit'ring  iu  thy  arms. 

This  faid,  he  darts  along,  nor  looks  behind, 
When  Polydorus  anfwers.  Alpheus ;  no. 
I  have  the  marks  of  bondage  to  eraze. 
My  blood  muft  wafh  the  fhameful  ftain  away. 

We  have  a  father,  Maron  interpos'd. 
Thy  unexpected  prefence  will  revive 
His  heavy  age,  now  childlefs  and  forlorn. 

To  him  the  brother  with  a  gloomy  frown. 
Ill  fhould  I  comfort  others.  View  thefe  eyes. 
Faint  is- their  light;  and  vanifh'd  was  my  bloom 
Before  its  hour  of  ripenefs.  In  my  breaft 
Grief  will  retain  a  manfion,  nor  by  time 
Be  difpoflefs'd.  Unceafmg  mall  my  foul 
Brood  o'er  the  black  remembrance  of  my  youth, 
In  flavery  exhaufted.  Life  to  me 
Hath  loft  its  favour.  Then  in  fullen  woe 
His  head  declines.  His  brother  pleads  in  vain. 

Now  in  his  view  Dieneces  appear'd 
V/ith  Sparta's  band.    Immoveable  his  eyes 
On  them  he  fix'd,  revolving  thefe  dark  thoughts. 

I  too,  like  them,  from  Lacedemon  fpring, 
Like  them  inftrucled  once  to  poife  the  fpear, 
To  lift  the  pond'rous  fhield.  Ill-deftin'd  wretch ! 
Thy  arm  is  grown  enervate,  and  would  fink 
Beneath  a  buckler's  weight.  Malignant  fates ! 
Who  have  compel!' d  my  free-born  hand  to  change 
The  warrior's  arms  for  ignominious  bonds ; 
Would  you  compenfate  for  my  chains,  my  fliame, 
My  ten  years  anguifh,  and  the  fell  defpair, 
Which  on  my  youth  have  prey'd  ;  relenting  once, 
Grant  I  may  bear  my  buckler  to  the  field, 
And,  known  a  Spartan,  feck  the  (hades  below. 

Why,  to  be  known  a  Spartan,  muft  thou  feek 
The  {hades  below  ?  Impatient  Maron,  fpake. 
Live,  and  be  known  a  spartan  by  thy  deeds ; 
Live,  and  enjoy  thy  dignity  of  birth ; 
Live,  and  perform  the  duties  which  become 
A  citizen  of  Sparta-  Still  thy  brow 
Frowns  gloomy,  ftill  unyielding.  He,  who  leads 
Our  band,  ail  fathers  of  a  noble  race, 
Will  ne'er  permit  thy  barren  day  to  clofe 
Without  an  offspring  to  uphold  the  ftate. 

He  will,  replies  the  brother  in  a  glow, 
Prevailing  o'er  the  palenefs  of  his  cheek, 
He  will  permit  me  to  complete  by  death 
The  meafure  of  my  duty ;  will  permit 
Me  to  achieve  a  ferviee,  which  no  hand 
But  mine  can  render,  to  adorn  his  fall 
With  double  luftre,  ftrike  the  barb'rous  foe 
With  endlefs  terror,  and  avenge  the  fhame 
Of  an  enflav'd  Laccnian.  Clofing  here 
Kis  words  myfterious,  quick  he  turn'd  away 
To  find  the  tent  of  Agis.  There  his  hand 
In  grateful  forrow  minifter'd  her  aid ; 
While  the  humane,  the  hofpitable  care 
Of  Agis,  gently  by  her  lover's  c orfe 
On  one  fad  bier  the  pallid  beauties  haid 
Of  Ariana.  He  from  bondage  freed 
Four  eaftcrn  captives,  whom  his  gen'rous  arm 
That  day  had  fpar'd  in  battle  ;  then  began 
This  folemn  charge.     You,  Perfians,  whom  my 

fword 
Acquir'd  in  war,  unranfom'd,  (hall  depart. 


To  you  I  render  freedom,  which  you  fought 
To  wreft  from  me.  One  recompence  I  aflc, 
And  one  alon_.  Transport  to  Afia'scamp 
This  bleeding  princefs.  Bid  the  Perfian  king 
Weep  o'er  this  flow'r,  untimely  cut  in  bloom. 
Then  fay,  th'all-judingpow'rshave  thus  ordain'4. 
Thou,  whofe  ambition  o'er  the  groaning  earth 
Leads  defolation ;  o'er  the  nations  fpreads 
Calamity  and  tears ;  thou  (nil  (halt  mourn, 
And  through  thy  houfe  deitrudion  firfl.  (hall  range. 

Difmifs'd,  they   gain  the  rampart,  where   o* 

guard 

Was  Dithyrambus  pofted.   He  perceiv'd 
The  mournful  bier  approach.   To  him  the  fate 
Of  Ariana  was  already  toid. 
He  met  the  captives  with  a  moiften'd  eye, 
Full  bent  on  Teribazus,  figh'd  and  fpake. 

O  that,  affuming  with  thofe  Grecian  arms 
A  Grecian  fpirit,  thou  in  (corn  hadft  look'd 
On  princes !   Worth  like  thine,  from  flavifh  courts 
Withdrawn,  had  ne'er  been  wafted  to  fupport 
A  king's  injufbice.  Then  a  gentler  lot 
Had  blefs'd  thy  life,  or  dying,  thou  hadft  known 
How  fweet  is  death  for  liberty.  A  Greek 
Affords  thefe  friendly  wifhes,  though  his  head 
Had  loft  the  honours,  gather'd  from  thy  fall. 
When  fortune  favour'd,  or  propitious  Jove 
Smil'd  on  the  better  caufe.  Ill-fated  pair, 
Whom  in  companion's pureft  clew  I  lave, 
But  that  my  hand  infix'd  the  deathful  wound, 
And  muft  be  grievous  to  your  lothing  (hades, 
From  all  the  neignb'ring  valleys  would  I  cull 
Their  faireft  growth,    to  ftrew  your  herfe  with 

flow'rs. 

Yet,  O  accept  thefe  tears  and  pious  pray'rs! 
May  peace  furround  your  afhes !  May  your  (hades 
Pafs  o'er  the  filent  pool  to  happier  feats ! 

He  ceas'd  in  tears.   The  captives  leave  the  wall, 
And  flowly  down  Thermopylae  proceed. 

BOOK  X. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

MEDON  convenes  the  Locrian  commanders,  and 
harangues  them ;  repairs  at  midnight  to  his  fif- 
ter  Meliffa  in  the  temple,  and  receives  from  her 
the  firft  intelligence,  that  the  Perfians  were  in 
actual  poffeffion  of  the  upper  Streights,  which 
which  had  been  abandoned  by  the  Phocians. 
Meliboeus  brings  her  tidings  of  her  father's 
death.  She  ftrictly  enjoins  her  brother  to  pre- 
fcrve  his  life  by  a  timely  retreat,  and  recom 
mends  the  enforcement  of  her  advice  to  the  pru 
dence  and  zeal  of  Meliboeus.  In  the  morning 
the  bodies  of  Teribazus  and  Ariana  are  brought 
into  the  prefence  of  Xerxes,  foon  after  a  report 
had  reached  the  camp,  that  great  part  of  his  na 
vy  was  (liipwrecked.  The  Perfian  monarch, 
quite  difpirited,  is  perfuaded  by  Argeftesto  fend 
an  ambaffador  to  the  Spartan  king.  Argeftes 
himfelf  is  deputed,  who,  after  revealing  his  em- 
bafly  in  fecret  to  Leonidas,  is  by  him  led  before 
the  whole  army,  and  there  receives  his  aniVer. 
Alpheus  returns,  and  declares,  that  the  enemy 
was  mafter  of  the  paffages  in  the  hills,  and 
would  arrive  at  Thermopylae  the  next  morning ; 
upon  which  Leonidas  offers  to  fend  away  all  the, 
troops,  except  his  three  hundred  Spartans ;  but. 


L  E  0  N  I  D  A  S. 


529 


Diqrnedon,  Dcrapphilus,  Dithyrambus,  and  Me- 
giftias,  rcfufe  to  depart :  then  to  relieve  the  per 
plexity  of  Medon  on  this  occafion,  he  transfers 
to  him  the  fupremc  command,  difmiffcs  Arge- 
ftes,  orders  the  companions  of  his  own  fate  to  be 
ready  in  arms  by  funfet,  and  retires  to  his  pa 
vilion. 

THE  Grecian  leaders,  from  the  conncil  ris'n, 
Among  the  troops  difpeififig,  hy  their  words, 
Their  looks  undaunted  warm  the  coldcft  heart 
Againil  new  dangers  threat'ningi  To  his  tent 
The  Locrian  captains  Mtdon  1'wift  convenes, 
Exhorting  thus.  O  Jong  npprov'd  my  friends, 
V'cu.  who  have  feen  my  father  in  the  field 
Triumphant,  hold  afliitants  of  my  arm 
In  labours  not  inglorious,  who  this  day 
Have  rais'd  frtih  trophies,  be  prepar'd.   If  help 
Be  further  wanted  in  the  Phocian  camp, 
You  will  the  next  be  fummon'd.  Locris  lies 
To  ravage  firfl  expos'd.  Your  ancient  fine, 
Your  goddcffes,  your  prieftefs  half-ador'd, 
The  daughter  of  OYleus,  from  your  fwords 
Protection  claim  againft  an  impious  foe. 

All  anxious  for  Melifla,  he  difmifs'd 
Th' applauding  vet'rans;  to  the  facred  cave 
Then  hnften'd.  Under  heav'n's  night-fliaded  cope 
He  mue'd.  Melifla  in  her  holy  place, 
How  to  approach  with  inaufpicious  fleps, 
How  to  accoft,  his  penfive  mind  revolv  d: 
When  Mycon,  pious  vaffal  of  the  fane, 
Defending  through  the  cavern,  at  the  fight 
Of  Medon  ftopp'd,  and  thus.    Thy  prefence,  lord, 
The  prieftefs  calls.  To  Lacedemon's  king 
I  bear  a  meffage,  fuff'ring  no  delay. 

He  quits  the  chief,  whofe  rapid  feet  afcend, 
Soon  ent'ring,  where  the  pedeftal  difplays 
Thy  form,  Calliope  lublime.  The  lyre, 
Whofe  accents  immortality  confer, 
Thy  fingers  feem  to  wake.  On  either  fide, 
The  fnowy  glofs  of  Parian  marble  Ihows 
Four,  of  thy  fifters  through  lurrounding  fnade. 
Before  each  image  is  a  virgin  plac'd. 
Before  each  virgin  dimly  burns  a  lamp, 
Whofe  livid  fpires  juft  temper  with  a  gleam 
The  dead  obfcurity  of  night.  Apart 
The  prieftefs  thoughtful  fits.  Thus  Medon  breaks 
The  folemn  filence.  Anxious  for  thy  ftate, 
Without  a  fummons  to  thy  pure  abode, 
I  was  approaching.  Deities,  who  know 
The  prefent,  paft,  and  future,  let  my  lips, 
Unblam'd,  have  utt'rance.  Thou,  my  lifter,  hear. 
Thy  breaft  let  wifdom  ftrengthen.  Impious  foes 
Through  Oeta  now  are  paffing.  She  replies. 

Arc  paffing,  brother  !  They,  alas  !  are  pafs'd, 
Are  in  pofleflion  of  the  upper  Streight. 
Hear  in  thy  turn.  A  dire  narration  hear. 
A  favour'd  goat,  conductor  of  my  herd, 
Stray'd  to  a  dale,  whofe  outlet  is  the  pofl 
To  Phocian's  left,  and  penetrates  to  Greece. 
Him  Mycon  following  by  a  hoftile  band, 
I.ight-arm'd  forerunners  of  a  num'rous  hoft, 
Was  feiz'd.  By  fear  of  menac'd  torments  forc'd, 
He  fhow'd  a  paffage  up  that  mountain's  fide, 
Whofe  length  of  wood  o'erfhades  the  Fhocian  lam 
To  dry  and  faplefs  trunks  in  diff'rent  p^rts 
Fire,  by  the  Perfians  artfully  apply 'd, 
fipon  grew  to  flames.    This  done,  the  troop  re 

turn'd, 
Vol.,  XI, 


detaining  Mycon.  Now  the  mbuntiin  tllz'd. 
'he  Phocians,  ill-commanded,  left  their  port, 
Uann'd,  confus'd.  More  diftant  ground  rhoy 

chofe. 

i  blind  delufion  forming  there,  they  fpjead 
l)eir  ineflTeclital  banners  to  repel 
uagin'd  peril  from  thole  fraudful  lights, 
y  ilratagetn  prepar'd.  A  real  foe 
Meantime  lecur'd  the  undefended  pafs. 
"his  Mycon  fuv.  lid-aping  thence  to  me, 
ie  by  my  orders  haftens  to  inform 
~  ,eonida^.  She  paus'd.  Like  one,  who  fres 
'he  forked  lightening  into  Olivers  rive 
A.  knotted  oak,  nr  crumble  tow'rs  to  duft, 
Aghaft  was  Medon  ;  then  rccov'rhig,  fpake* 
riiouboailed  glory  of  the  Oilcan  houfe, 
f  e'er  thy  brother  bow'd  in  rev'rence  due 
To  thy  fuperior  virtues,  let  hia  voice 
Je  now  regarded.  From  th'  endanger'd  fane, 
My  fifl*r,  fly.  Whatever  be  my  lot, 
V  troop  i'eledt  of  Locrians  fhall  traufport 
I'hy  facred  perfon,  where  thy  will  ordains. 

Think  not  of  me,  returns  the  dame-.  To  Greet* 
)irec"l  thy  zeal.  My  peaihnts  are  conven'd, 
That  by  their  labour,  when  the  fatal  hour 
Requires,,  with  maffy  fragments  I  may  bar 
That  cave  to  human  entrance.  Bell  belov'd 
Of  brothers,  now  a  fcrious  car  incline* 
A  while  in  Greece  to  fortune's  wanton  gale 
>Iis  golden  banner  {hall  the  Perflan  king, 
Deluded,  wave.  Leonidas,  by  death 
Preferving  Sparta,  will  his  fpirit  leave 
To  blaft  the  glitt'ring  pageant.  Medon,  live 
To  {hare  that  glory.  Thee  to  perifh  here, 
Sfo  law,  no  oracle  enjoins.  To  die, 
Uncall'd,  is  blameful.  Let  thy  pious  hand 
S  .'cure  OVleus  from  barbarian  force. 
To  Sparta  mindful  of  her  noble  hoft 
Intrul  his  rev'rend  head.  Th'aflembled  hind=, 
Youths,  r.-.aidens,  wives,  with  nurielings  at  theic 

hreafts, 

Around  her  now  in  cooflernatiori  flood, 
The  women  weeping,  mute,  aghaft  the  men. 
To  them  (he  turns.  You  never,  faithful  race, 
Your  prieftefs  (hall  forfake.  Meliffa  here, 
Dcfpairing  never  of  the  public  weal, 
For  better  days  in  folimde  fiiall  wait, 
Shall  cheer  your  fadr.efs.  My  prophetic  foul 
Sees  through  time's  cloud  the  liberty  of  Greece 
More  fhable,  more  effulgent.  In  his  blood 
Leonidas  cements  th'  unfliaken  bafe 
Of  that  ftrong  tow'r,  which  Athens  fliall  exalt 
To  caft  a  (hadow  o'er  the  eaflern  world. 

This  utter'd,  tow'rd  ths  temple's  inmofl  feat 
Of  far.6lity  her  folemn  flcp  fhe  bends, 
Devout,  enraptured.  In  their  dark'ning  lamps 
The  pallid  flames  are  fainting.  Diro  through  mifls 
The  morning  peeps.  An  awful  filence  reigns.  ' 
While  Medon  penfive  from  the  fp.nc  defcends, 
But  inftar.t  reappears.   Behind  him  dole 
Treads  Meliboeus,  through  the  cavern's  mouth, 
Afcendlng  pale  in  afpscl,  not  unlike 
What  legends  tell  of  ipeclres,  by  the  force 
Of  necromautic  forccry  ccnftrain'd  ;  [joiii'd, 

Through  earth's  dark  bowels,  which  t/.e  fpeil  dit- 
'1'hey  i'rom  death's  manfion  in  reluctant  floth 
Rofe  to  divulge  the  iecrets  of  their  graven, 
Or  ruyfieries  uf  fats.   His  chocrful  brow, 

LI 


550 


THE  WORKS  OF  GLOVER. 


O'erclouded,  palenefs  on  his  healthful  cheek, 
A  dull,  unwonted  heavinefs  of  pace 
Portend  difaft'rous  tidings.  Medon  fpake. 

Turn,  holy  filler.  By  the  godsbelovM, 
May  they  fuftainthec  in  this  mournful  hour. 
Our  father,  good  Oi'leus  is  no  more. 
Rchearfe  thy  tidings,  fwain.    He  takes  the  word. 

Thou    waft    not  prefent  when  his  mind,  out- 

firetch'd 

fey  zeal  for  Greece,  tranfported  by  his  joy 
To  entertain  Leonidas,  refus'd 
Due  reft.  Old  age  his  ardour  had  forgot, 
To  his  lad  waking  moment  with  his  gueft 
In  rapt'rous  talk  redundant.  He  at  laft, 
Compos'd  and  fmiling  in  th*  embrace  of  fleep, 
To  Pan's  protection  at  the  ifland  fane 
Was  left.  He  wak'd  no  more.  The  fatal  news 
To  you  difcover'd,  from  the  chiefs  I  hide. 

Mclifla  heard,  inclin'd  her  forehead  low 
Before  th'  infculptur'd  deities.  A  Cgh 
iBroke  from  her  heart,  thefe  accents  from  her  lips. 

The  full  of  days  and  honours  through  the  gate 
Ofpainlefs  {lumber  is  retir'd.  His  tomb 
Khali  ftand  among,  his  fathers,  in  the  {hade 
Of  his  own  trophies.  Vlacid  were  his  days, 
"Which  flow'd  through  bleffings.  As  a  river  pure, 
"Whofe  fides  are  flow'ry,  and  whofe  meadows  fair, 
Meets  in  his  conrfe  a  fubterranean  void; 
There  dips  his  filver  head,  again  to  rife, 
And,  rifing,  glide  through  flow'rs  and  meadows 

new : 

So  fhall  Oileus  in  thofe  happier  fields, 
"Where  never  tempefts  roar,  nor  humid  clouds 
In  mills  diffolve,  nor  white-defcending  flakes 
Of  winter  violate  th*  eternal  green  ; 
"Where  never  gloom  of  trouble  fhades  the  mind, 
2>.'or  guil  of  paffion  heaves  the  quiet  breaft, 
Nor  dews  of  grief  are  fprinkled.    Thou  art  gone, 
Ploft  of  divine  Leonidas  on  earth, 
Art  gone  before  him  to  prepare  the  feafl, 
Immortalizing  virtue.  Silent  here, 
Around  her  head  fhe  wraps  her  hallow'd  pall. 
Her  prudent  virgins  interpofe  a  hymn, 
Not  in  a  plaintive,  but  majeftic  flo\v, 
To  which  their  fingers,  fweeping  o'er  the  chords, 
The  lyre's  full  tone  attemper.  She  unveils, 
Then  with  a  voice,  a  countenance  compos'd. 

Go,  Medon,  pillar  of  th'  Oilean  houfe. 
New  cares,  new  duties  claim  thy  precious  life. 
Perform  the  pious  obfequies.  Let  tears, 
Let  groans  be  abfent  from  the  facred  duft, 
"Which  Heav'n  in  life  fo  favour'd,  more  in  death. 
A  term  of  righteous  days,  an  envy'd  urn 
Like  his,  for  Medon  is  Meliffa's  pray'r. 
Thou,  Meliboetis,  cordial,  high  in  rank 
Among  the  prudent,  warn  and  watch  thy  lord. 
My  benediction  fhall  reward  thy  zeal. 

Sooth'd  by  the  bleffings  of  fuch  perfect  lips, 
They  both  depart.  And  now  the  climbing  fun 
To  Xerxes'  tent  difcover'd  from  afar 
Tke  Perfian  captives  with  their  mournful  load. 
Before  them  rumour  through  her  fable  trump 
Breathes  lamentation.  Horror  lends  his  voice 
To  fpread  the  tidings  of  difaftrous  fate 
Along  Speicheos.  As  a  -vapour  black, 
"\Vhich  from  the  diflant,  horizontal  vergi 
Afcending,  nearer  ilill  and  nearer  tends 
To  higher  lands  its  progrefs,  thsre  cor.dens'd,- 


Throws  darknefs  o'er  the  valleys,  while  the  face 

Of  nature  faddens  round  ;  fo  Hep  by  ftep, 

In  motion  flow  th'  advancing  bier  diffus'd 

A  folemn  fadnefs  o'er  the  camp.  A  hedge 

Of  trembling  fpears  on  either  hand  is  form'd. 

Tears  underneath  his  iron-pointed  cone 

The  Sacian  drops.  The  Caipian  favage  feels 

His  heart  tranfpierc'd,  and  wonders  at  the  pain. 

In  Xerxes'  prelcnce  are  the  bodies  plac'd, 

Nor  he  forbids.  His  agitated  breaft 

All  night  had  weigh'd  againft  his  future  hopes 

His  pu'fent  loffes,  his  defeated  ranks, 

By  myriads  thinn'd,  their  multitude  abafli'd, 

His  fleet  thrice  worfled,  torn  by  ftorms,  reduc'd 

To  half  its  number.  When  he  flept,  hi  dreams 

He  faw  the  haggard  dead,  which  floated  round 

Th'  adjoining  ftram's.   Difafters  new  their  ghofti 

In  fullen  frowns,  in  farill  upbraidings  bode. 

Thus,  ere  the  gory  biei  approach'd  his  eyes, 

He  in  dejection  had  already  loft 

His  kingly  pride,  the  parent  of  difdain, 

And  cold  indifference  to  human  woes. 

Not  ev'n  befide  his  fifter's  nobler  corfe 

Her  humble  lover  could  awake  his  fcorn. 

The  captives  told  their  piercing  tale.  He  heard; 

He  ielt  a  while  compafiicn.  But  ere  long 

Thofe  traces  vanifh'd  from  the  tyrant's  breaft. 

His  former  gloom  redoubles.  For  himfelf 

His  anxious  bofom  heaves,  opprefs'd  by  fear, 

Left  he  with  all  his  fp lend  our  fhould  be  caft 

A  prey  to  fortune.  Thoughtful  near  the  throne 

Lacoiiia's  exile  waits,  to  whom  the  king. 

O  Demaratus,  what  will  fate  ordain  ? 
Lo,  fortune  turns  againft  me !   What  fhall  check 
Her  further  malice,  when  her  daring  ftride 
Invades  my  houfe  with  ravage,  and  profanes 
The  blood  of  great  Darius.  I  have  fent 
From  my  unguarded  fide  the  chofen  band, 
My  braveft  chiefs  to  pafs  the  defert  hill ; 
Have  to  the  conduct  of  a  Malian  fpy 
My  hopes  intruded.  May  not  there  the  Greek* 
In  oppofttion  more  tremendous  ftill, 
More  ruinous  than  ycfter  fun  beheld, 
Maintain  their  poll  invincible,  renew 
Their  ftony  thunder  in  augmented  rage, 
And  lend  whole  quarries  down  the  craggy  deeps 
Again  to  crufli  my  army  ?  Oh,  unfold 
Thy  fecret  thoughts,  nor  hide  the  harfheft  truth! 
Say,  what  remains  to  hope  ?  The  exile  here. 

Too  well,  O  monarch,  do  thy  fears  prefage, 
What  may  befal  thy  army  !  If  the  Greeks, 
Arrane'd  within  Thermopylae,  a  pafs 
Acceffible  and  practis'd,  could  repel 
With  fuch  defiruction  their  unnumber'd  foes; 
What  Icenes  of  havoc  may  untrodden  paths, 
Confin'd  among  the  craggy  hills,  afford  ? 

Lofr  in  defpair,  the  monarch  filent  fat. 
Not  lefs  unmann'd  than  Xentes,  from  his  place 
Uprofe  Argeftes;  but  concealing  fear, 
Thefe  artful  words  delivcr'd.  If  the  king 
Propitious  wills  to  {pare  his  faithful  bands, 
Nor  fpread  at  large  the  terrors  of  his  pow'r; 
More  gentle  means  of  conqucft  than  by  arms, 
Nor  lefs  fecure  may  artifice  fupply. 
Renown'dJDarius,  thy  immortal  fire 
Bright  in  the  fpoil  of  kingdoms,  long  in  vain 
The  fields  of  proud  Eurthrates  with  his  hoft 
O'crfprcad.  At  length,  confiding  in  the  wiles? 


L  E  O  N  1  D  A  3. 


531 


Of  Zopyrus,  the  mighty  prince  fubdu'd 
The  Babylonian  ramparts.  Who  fliall  count 
The  thrones  and  ftates,  by  ftratagem  o'erturu'd  ? 
But  if  corruption  join  her  pow'rful  u.id, 
Not  One  can  Hand.  What  race  of  men  poffefs 
That  probity,  that  wifdom,  which  the  veil 
Of  craft  fliall  never  blind,  nor  proffer'd  wealth, 
Nor  fplendid  pow'r  feduce  ?  O  Xerxes!  born 
To  more  than  mortal  greamefs,  canft  thou  find 
Through  thy  unbounded  fway  no  dazzling  gift, 
Which  may  allure  Leonidas  ?  Difpel 
The  cloud  of  fadnefs  from  thofe  facred  eyes. 
Great  monarch,  proffer  to  Laconia's  chief, 
What  may  thy  own  magnificence  declare, 
And  win  his  friendfliip.  O'er  his  native  Greece 
Invert  himfov'reign.  Thus  procure  his  fword 
For  thy  fucceeding  conquefls.  Xerxes  here, 
As  from  a  trance  awak'ning,  1'wift  replies. 

Wife  are  thy  dictates.  Fly  to  Sparta's  chief. 
Argeftes,  fall  before  him.  Bid  him  join 
My  arms,  and  reign  o'er  ev'ry  Grecian  (late. 

He  fcarcehad  fmifh'd,  when  in  hafle  approach'd 
Artuchus.  Startled  at  the  ghallly  ftage 
Of  death,  that  guardian  of  the  Perfian  fair 
Thus  in  a  groan.  Thou  deity  malign, 
O  Arimanius,  what  a  bitter  draught 
For  my  fad  lips  thy  cruelty  hath  mix'd ! 
Is  this  the  flow'r  of  women,  to  my  charge 
So  lately  giv'n  ?  Oh  princefs !   I  have  rang'd 
The  whole  Sperchean  valley,  woods,  and  caves, 
In  queft  of  thee,  found  here  a  lifelefs  corfe. 
Aftonifliment  and  horror  lock  my  tongue. 

Pride  now  reviving  in  the  monarch's  breaft, 
Difpell'd  his  black  defpondfiicy  a  while, 
With  gall  more  black  effacing  from  his  heart 
Each  merciful  impreffion.  Stern  he  fpake. 

Remove  her,  fatrap,  to  the  female  train. 
Let  them  the  due  folemnities  perform. 
But  never  fhe,  by  Mithra's  light  I  fwear, 
Shall  fleep  in  Sula  with  her  kindred  duft ; 
Who  by  ignoble  paffions  hath  de'bas'd 
The  blood  of  Xerxes.  Greece  beheld  her  fhame ; 
Let  Greece  behold  her  tomb.  The  low-born  flave, 
Who  dar'd  to  Xerxes'  fillet  lift  his  hopes, 
On  fome  bare  crag  expofe.  The  Spartan  here. 

My  royal  patron,  let  me  fpeak — and  die, 
If  fuch  thy  will.  This  cold,  disfigur'd  clay 
Was  late  thy  foldier,  gallantly  who  fought, 
Who  nobly  perifh'd,  long  the  deareft  friend 
Of  Hyperanthes,   hazarding  his  life 
Now  in  thy  caufe.  O'er  Perfians  thou  doft  reign ; 
None  more  than  Perfians,  venerate  the  brave. 

Well  hath  he  fpoke,  Atruchus  firm  fubfoins. 
But  if  the  king  his  rigour  will  inflicl 
On  this  dead  warrior — Heuv'n  o'erlook  the  deed, 
Nor  on  our  heads  accumulate  frefh  woes! 
The  ftiatter'd  fleet,  th'  intimidated  camp, 
The  band  felect,  through  Oeta's  dang'rous  wilds 
At  this  dread  crifis  ftruggling,  muft  obtain 
Support  from  Heav'n,  or  Afia's  glory  falls. 

Fell  pride,  recoiling  at  thefe  awful  words 
In  Xerxes'  frozeu  bofom,  yields  to  fear, 
Refuming  there  the  fway.  He  grants  the  corfe 
To  Demaratus.  Forth  Artuchus  moves 
Behind  the  bier,  uplifted  by  his  train. 

Argeftes,  parted  from  his  mailer's  fide, 
Afcends  a  car ;  and  fpeeding;  o'er  the  beach, 
tees  Artcmiiia.  She  the  afhes  pals 
4 


Of  flaughter'd  Carians  on  the  pyre  confum'd, 
Was  then  collecting  for  the  fun'ral  vafe 
In  exclamation  thus.  My  fubjects  loft 
On  earth,  defcend  to  happier  climes  below 
The  fawning,  daftard  counfellors,  who  left 
Your  worth  deforced  in  the  hour  of  need, 
May  kites  disfigure,  may  the  wolf  devour— — - 
Shade  of  my  hufband,  thou  falute  in  finiles 
Thefe  gallant  warriors,  faithful  once  to  thee, 
Nor  lels  to  me.  They  tidings  will  report 

Of  Artemifia,  to  r evive  thy  love 

May  wretches  like  Argeftes  never  clafp. 

Their  wives,  their  offspring !    Never  greet  their 

homes ! 

May  their  unbury'd  limbs  difmifs  their  ghofts 
To  wail  for  ever  on  the  banks  of  Styx ! 
Then,  turning  tow'rd  her  foil.     Come,  virtuous 

boy, 

Let  us  tranfport  thefe  relks  of  our  friends 
To  yon  tall  bark,  in  pendent  fable  clad.     . 
They,  if  her  keel  be  deftin'd  to  return, 
Shall  in  paternal  monuments  repofe. 
Let  us  embark.  Till  Xerxes  fhuts  his  car 
To  falfe  Argeftes ;  in  her  veflel  hid, 
Shall  Artemifia's  gratitude  lament 
Her  bounteous  fov 'reign's  fate.  Leander,  mark. 
The  Doric  virtues  are  not  eaftern  plants. 
Them  fofter  ftill  within  thy  gen'rous  breaft, 
But  keep  in  covert  from  the  blaze  of  courts  ; 
Where  flatt'ry's  guile  in  oily  words  profufe, 
In  action  tardy,  o'er  th'  ingenuous  tongue, 
The  arm  of  valour,  and  the  faithful  heart 
Will  ever  triumph.  Yet  my  foul  enjoys 
Her  own  prefage,  that  deftiny  referves 
An  hour  for  my  revenge.  Concluding  here, 
She  gains  the  fleet.  Argeftes  fweeps  along 
On  rapid  wheel?  from  Artemifia's  view, 
Like  night,  prote&refs  foul  of  heinpusdeed,?, 
With  treafon,  rape,  and  murder  at  her  heel, 
Before  the  eye  of  morn  retreating  fwitt 
To  hide  her  lothfome  vilage.  Soon  he  reach*  d 
ThermopykB  ;  defcendirig  from  his  car, 
Was  led  by  Dithyrambus  to  the  tent 
Of  Sparta's  ruler.  Since  th~  fatal  news 
By  Mycon  late  deliver'd,  he  apart 
With  Pplydorus  had  confulted  long 
On  high  attempts;  and  now  fequefter'd,  fat 
To  ruminate  on  vengeance.  At  his  feet 
Prone  fell  the  fatrap,  and  began.  The  will 
Of  Xerxes  bends  me  proftrate  to  the  earth. 
Before  thy  prefence.  Great  and  matchlcfs  chief, 
Thus  fays  the  lord  of  Afia.  Join  my  arms  ; 
Thy  recompense  is  Greece.  Her  fruitful  plains, 
Her  gen'rous    fteeds,    her  flocks,   her    num'rous 

towns, 

Her  fons,  I  render  to  thy  fovVeign  hand. 
And,  O  illuftrious  warrior,  heed  my  vyords ! 
Think  on  the  blifs  of  royalty,  the  pomp 
Of  .courts,  cheir  endlefs  pleafures,  trains  of  flayei, 
Who  reftiefs  watch  for  thee,  and  thy  delights; 
Think  on  the  glories  of  unrivall'd  fway. 
Look  on  th'  Ionic,  on  th'  JF.olian  Greeks. 
From  them  their  phantom  liberty  is  flown; 
While  in  each  province,  i  iis'd  by  Xorxes'  pow'r, 
Some  favour'd  chief  prefidcs;  exalted  ftate, 
Ne'er  giv'n  by  envious  f.xcuom.  On  his  head 
He  bears  the  gorgeous,  diadem;  he  fees 
iiis  equals  once  in  adoration  ftoop 
Ll  ij 


THE  WORKS  OF  GLOVER. 


53* 

Beneath  his  footftool.  What  fuperior  beams 

Will  from  thy  temples  blaze,  when  gen'ral  Greece, 

In  nobleft  ftates  abounding,  calls  thee  lord, 

Thee  only  worthy.  How  will  each  rejoice 

Afbund  thy  throne,  and  hail  th'  aufpicious  day, 

When  thou,  diltinguifh'd  by  the  Pt^ian  king, 

Didft  in  tliy  fway  confenting  nations  blefs, 

Didfl  calm  the  fury  cf  unfparing  war, 

Which  elfe  had  delug'd  all  with  blood  and  flames. 

Leonidas  replies  not,  but  commands 
The  Thefpian  youth,  ftill  watchful  n.»ar  the  tent, 
To  fummon  all  the  Grecians.  He  obeys. 
The  king  up  rifes  from  his  feat,  and  bids 
The  PerCan  follow.  He,  amaz'd,  attends, 
Surrounded  foon  by  each  affembling  band; 
When  thus  at  length  the  godlike  Spartan  fpake  : 

Here,  Perfian,  tell  thy  embaffy.  Repeat, 
That  to  obtain  my  friendfhip  Afia's  prince 
To  me  hath  proffer'd  fov'reignty  o'er  Greece. 
Then  view  thefe  bands,  whofe  valour  fhall  preferve 
That  Greece  unconcjuer'd,  which  your  king  be- 

ftows ; 

Shall  ftrew  your  bodies  on  her  cr'mfon'd  plains : 
The  indignation,  painted  on  their  looks, 
Their  gen'rous  fcorn  may  anfwer  for  their  chief. 
Yet  from  Leonidas,  thou  wretch,  inur'd 
To  vaffalage  and  bafenefs,  hear.  The  pompr 
The  arts  of  pleafure  in  defpotic  courts 
I  fpurn  abhorrent.  In  a  fpotlcfs  heart 
I  look  for  pleafure.  I  from  righteous  deeds 
Derive  my  fplendour.  No  adoring  crowd, 
No  purpled  flaves,  no  mercenary  fpears 
My  ftate  embarrafs.   I  in  Sparta  rule 
By  laws,  my  rulers,  with  a  guard  unknown 
To  Xerxes,  public  confidence  and  love. 
No  pale  fufpicicn  of  th'  empoifon'd  bowl, 
Th'  affaffin's  poniard,  or  provok'd  revolt 
Chafe  from  my  decent  couch  the  peace,  deny'd 
To  his  refplendent  canopy.  Thy  king, 
Who  hath  profan'd  by  proffer'd  bribes  my  ear, 
Dares  not  to  meet  my  arm.  Thee,  trembling  flave, 
M'hofe  embaffy  was  treafon,  1  defpife, 
And  therefore  fpare.  Dicmedon  fubjoins: 

Our  marble  temples  thefe  Barbarians  wafte, 
A  crime  lefs  impious,  than  a  bare  attempt 
Of  facrilege  on  virrtie.  Grant  my  fuit, 
Thou  living  temple,  where  th?  goddefs  dwells. 
To  me  confign  the  caitiff.  Soon  the  winds 
Shall  parch  his  limbs  on  Oeta's  talleft  pine. 

Amidft  his  fury  fuddenly  return'd 
The  fpeed  of  Alpheus.  All,  fufper.ded,  fix'd 
On  him  their  eyes  impatient.  He  began  : 

I  am  return'd  a  meffcnger  of  ill. 
Clcfe  to  the  paffage,  op'ning  into  Greece, 
That  poll  committed  to  the  Phocian  guard, 
O'crhangs  a  buihy  cliff.  A  ftaticn  there 
Behind  the  fhrubs  by  dead  of  night  I  took, 
Though  not  in  darknefs.  Purple  was  the  face     • 
Of  heav'n.  Beneath  my  feet  the  valleys  glow'd. 
A  range  immenfe  of  wood-inverted  hills, 
The  boundaries  of  Greece,  were  clad  in  flames ; 
An  sc"l  of  froward  chance,  or  crafty  foes 
To  caft  difmay.  The  crackling  pines  I  heard ; 
Their  branches  fparkled,  and  the  thickets  blaz'd. 
In  hillocks  embers  rofe.  Embody'd  fire, 
As  from  unnurhber'd  furnaces,  I  faw 
Mount  high  through  vacant  trunks  of  headlefs 
oaks, 


Broad-bas'd,  and  dry  with  age.    Barbarian 
Shields,  javelins,  fabres,  gleaming  from  below, 
Full  foon  difcover'd  to  my  tortur'd  fight 
The  ftreights  in    Perfia's   pow'r.     The  Phocian 

chief, 

Whate'er  the  caufe,  relinquiihing  his  poft, 
Was  to  a  neighb'ring  eminence  remov'd ; 
There  by  the  foe  neglected,  or  contemn'd, 
Remain'd  in  arms,  and  neither  fled,  nor  fought. 
I  fby'd  for  day  fpring.  Then  the  Perfians  mov'di 
To-morrow's  fun  will  fee  their  numbers  here. 

He  faid  no  more.  Unutterable  fear 
In  horrid  filence  wraps  the  lift'ning  crowd, 
Aghaft,  confounded.  Silent  are  the  chiefs, 
Who  feel  no  terror ;  yet  in  wonder  fix'd, 
Thick-wedg'd,  enclofe  Leonidas  around, 
Who  thus  in  calmefi  elocution  fpake  : 

I  now  behold  the  oracle  fulfill'd. 
Then  art  thou  near,  thou  glorious,  facrcd  hour, 
Which  {halt  my  country's  liberty  fecure. 
Thrice  hail!  thou  folemn  period.  Thee  the  tongvfes 
Of  virtue,  fame  and  freedom  fhall  proclaim, 
Shall  celebrate  in  ages  yet  unborn. 
Thou  godlike  offspring  of  a  godlike  fire, 
To  him  my  kindcft  greetings,  Medon,  bear. 
Farewell,  Megiftias,  holy  friend  and  brave. 
Thou  too,  experienc'd,  venerable  chief, 
Demophilus,  farewell.  Farewell  to  thee, 
Invincible  Diomcdon,  to  thee, 
Unequall'd  Dithyrambus,  and  to  all, 
Ye  other  dauntk-fs  warriors,  who  may  claim 
Praife  from  my  lips,  and  friendfhip  from  my  heart, 
You  after  all  the  wonders,  which  your  fwords 
Have  here  accomplifh'd,  will  enrich  your  names 
By  frefh  ranovrn.  Y'*'.r  valour  muft  complete 
What  ours  begins.  Here  firft  th'  aftonifh'd  foe 
On  dying  Spartans  fhall  with  terror  gaze, 
And  tremble  while  he  conquers.  Then,  by  fate 
Led  from  his  dreadful  victory  to  meet 
United  Greece  in  phalanx  o'er  the  plain, 
By  your  avenging  fpears  himfelf  fhall  fall. 

Forth  from  the  affembly  ftrides  Platasa's  chief. 
By  the  twelve  gods,  enthron'd  in  heav'n  fupreme; 
By  my  fair  name,  unfully'd  yet,  I  fwear, 
Thine  eye,  Leonidas,  fhall  ne'er  behold 
Dicmedon  forfake  thee.  Firft,  let  ftrength 
Defert  my  limbs,  and  fortitude  my  heart. 
Did  I  not  face  the  Marathonian  war  ? 
Have  I  not  feen  Thermopylae  ?  What  more 
Can  fame  beftow,  which  I  fhould  wait  to  fhare  * 
Where  can  I,  living,  purchafe  brighter  praife, 
Than  dying  here  ?  What  more  illuflrious  tomb 
Can  I  obtain,  than,  bury'd  in  the  heaps 
Ot  Perfians,  fall'n  my  victims,  on  this  rock 
To  lie  diftinguifh'd  by  a  thoufand  wounds? 

He  ended;  when  Demophilus.  O  king 
Of  Lacedemon.  pride  of  human  race, 
Whom  none  e'er  equall'd,  but  the  feed  of  Jove, 
Thy  own  forefather,  number'd  with  the  gods, 
Lo  !  I  am  old.  With  fauk'ring  fteps  I  tread 
The  prone  defcent  of  years.  My  country  claim'd 
My  youth,  my  ripenefs.  Feeble  age  but  yields 
An  empty  name  of  fervice.    What  remains 
For  me  unequal  to  the  winged  fpeed 
Of  active  hours,  which  Court  the  fwift  and  young: 
What  eligible  wifh  can  wifdom  form, 
But  to  die  well  ?  Demophilus  fhall  clofe 
With  thee,  O  hero,  on  this  glorious  earth 


LEONIDAS. 


535 


His  eve  of  life.  The  youth  of  Thefpia  next 
Addrefs'd  Leonidas.  O  firft  of  Greeks, 
Me  too  think  worthy  to  attend  thy  fame 
With  this  moft  dear,  this  venerable  man, 
Forever  honour'd  from  my  tend'reft  age, 
Ev'n  till  on  life's  extremity  we  part. 
Nor  too  afpiring  let  my  hopes  be  deem'd ; 
Should  the  Barbarian  in  his  triumph  mark 
My  youthful  limbs  among  the  gory  heaps, 
Perhaps  remembrance  may  unnerve  his  arm 
lu  future  fields  of  coiiteft  with  a  race, 
To  whom  the  flow'r,  the  blooming  joys  of  life 
Are  lefs  alluring  than  a  noble  death. 

To  him  his  fecond  parent.  Wilt  thou  bleed, 
My  Dithyrambus  ?  But  I  here  withhold 
All  counfel  from  thee,  who  art  wife  as  brave. 
I  know  thy  magnanimity.  I  read 
Thy  gen'rous  thoughts.  Decided  is  thy  choice. 
Come  then,  attendants  on  a  godlike  (hade, 
When  to  th'  Elyfian  anceftry  of  Greece 
Defcends  her  great  protector,  we  will  (how 
To  Harmatides  an  illuflrious  fon, 
And  no  unworthy  brother.  We  will  link 
Our  fhields  together.  We  will  prefs  the  ground, 
Still  undivided  in  the  arms  of  death. 
So  if  th'  attentive  traveller  we  draw 
To  our  cold  reliques,  wond'ring,  (hall  he  trace 
The  diff'rent  fcene,  then  pregnant  with  applaufe, 
O  wife  old  man,  exclaim,  the  hour  of  fate 
Well  didft  thou  choofe  ;  and,  O  unequall'd  youth, 
Who  for  thy  country  didft  thy  bloom  devote, 
May 'ft  thou  remain  for  ever  dear  to  fame  ! 
May  time  rejoice  to  name  thee  !  O'er  thy  urn 
May  everlafting  peace  her  pinion  fpread. 

This  faid,  the  hero  with  his  lifted  fhield 
His  face  o'erfhades  ;  he  drops  a  i'ecret  tear: 
Not  this  a  tear  of  anguifh,  but  deriv'd 
From  fond  affection,  grown  mature  with  time, 
Awak'd  a  manly  tendernefs  alone, 
Unmix'd  with  pity,  or  with  vain  regret. 

A  ftream  of  duty,  gratitude,  and  love, 
Flow'd  from  the  heart  of  Harmatides'  ion, 
Addreffing  ftraight  Leonidas,  whofe  looks 
Declar'd  unfpeakable  applaufe.  O  king 
Of  Lacedemon,  now  diftribute  praife 
From  thy  accuftom'd  juftice,  fmall  to  me, 
To  him  a  portion  large.  His  guardian  care 
His  kind  inflruction,  his  example  traiu'd 
My  infancy,  my  youth.  From  him  I  learn'd 
To  live  unfpotted.  Could  I  lefs  than  learn 
From  him  to  die  with  honour  ?  Medon  hears. 
Shook  by  a  whirlwind  of  contending  thoughts 
Strong  heaves  his  manly  bofoni,  under  awe 
Of  wife  Meliffa,  torn  by  friendfhip,  fir'd 
By  fuch  example  high.  In  dubious  ftate. 
So  rolls  a  veflel,  when  th*  inflated  waves 
Her  planks  afiail,  and  winds  her  canvafs'rend  ; 
The  riuider  labours,  and  requires  a  hand 
Of  firm,  delib'rate  (kill.  The  gen'rous  king 
Perceives  the  hero's  ftruggle,  and  prepares 
To  interpofe  relief;  when  inftant  came 
Dieneces  before  them.  Short  he  fpake  : 

Barbarian  myriads  through  the  fecret  pafs 
Have  enter'd  Greece.  Leoiiidas,  by  mom 
Expect  them  here.  My  flender  force  I  fpar'd. 
There  to  have  died  was  ufelefs.  We  return. 
With  thee  to  perifh.  Union  of  our  ftrength  ' 
Will  render  more  illuftrious  to  ourfelves, 
.And.  to  the  foe  iuo;-e  terrible  our  fall. 


MegHias  lafl  accoftsLaconia'sking. 
Thou,  whom  the  gods  have  chofen  to  exalt 
Above  mankind  in  virtue  and  renown, 
"O  call  not  me  prefumptuous,  who  implore 
Among  thefe  heroes  thy  regardful  ear. 
To  Lacedemon  1  a  (tranger  came, 
There  found  protection.  There  to  honours  rais'd, 
1  have  not  yet  the  benefit  repaid. 
That  now  the  gen'rous  Spartans  may  behold 
In  me  their  large  beneficence  not  vain, 
Here  to  their  caufe  I  confccrate  my  breath. 

Not  fo,  Megiftias,  interpos'd  the  king. 
Thou  and  thy  ion  retire.  Again  the  feer  : 

Forbid  it,  thou  eternally  ador'd, 
O  Jove,  confirm  my  perfevering  foul! 
Nor  let  me  thefe  aufpicious  moments  lofe, 
When  to  my  bounteous  patrons  I  may  fhow, 
That  I  deferv'd  their  favour.  Thou,  my  child, 
Dear  Menalippus,  heed  the  king's  command, 
And  my  paternal  tcndernefs  revere,. 
Thou  from  thefe  ranks  withdraw  the£,  to  my  ufc 
Thy  arms  furrend'ring.  Fortune  will  fupply 
New  proofs  of  valour.  Vanquifh  then,  or  find 
A  glorious  grave  ;  but  fpare  thy  father's  eye 
The  bitter  anguifh  to  behold  thy  youth 
Untimely  bleed  before  him.  Grief  fufpends 
His  fpeech,  and  interchangeably  their  arms 
Impart  the  laft  embraces.  Either  weeps, 
The  hoary  parent,  and  the  blooming  fon. 

But  from  his  temples  the  pontific  wreath 
Megiftias  now  tmloofens.  He  reiigns 
His  hallow'd  veflments ;  while  the  youth  in  tears 
The  helmet  o'er  his  parent's  fnowy  locks, 
O'er  his  broad  cheft  adjufts  the  radiant  mail. 

Dieneces  was  nigh.  Opprefs'd  by  (hame, 
His  downcaft  vifage  Menalippus  hid 
From  him,  who  cheerful  thus:  Thou  need'ft  not 

blufh. 

Thou  hear'ft  thy  father  and  the  king  command 
What  I  fuggeftcd,  thy  departure  hence. 
Train'd  by  my  care,  a  foldierthou  return'ft. 
Go,  practife  my  inftructions.  Oft  in  fields 
Of  future  conflict  may  thy  prowefs  cail 
Me  to  remembrance.  Spare  thy  words.  Farewell. 

While  fuch  contempt  of  life,  fuch  fervid  zeal 
To  die  with  glory  animate  the  Greeks, 
Far  diff'rent  thoughts  poffefs  Argeftes'  foul. 
Amaze  and  mingled  terror  chill  his  blood. 
Cold  drops,  diftlll'd  from  ev'ry  pore,  bedew 
His  (hiv'ring  flefh.  His  bofom  pants.  His  knees 
Yield  to  their  burden.  Ghaftly  pale  his  cheeks, 
Pale  are  his  lips  and  trembling.  Such  the  minds 
Of  (laves  corrupt;  on  them  the  beauteous  face 
Of  virtue  turns' to  horror.  But  thefe  words 
From  Lacedemon's  chief  the  wretch  relieve  : 

Return  to  Xerxes.  Tell  him,  on  this  rock 
The  Giecians  faithful  to  their  truft  await 
His  chofcn  myriads.  Tell  him,  thou  haft  feen 
How  far  the  luft  of  empire  is  below 
A  freeboru  fpirit ;  that  my  death,  which  foals 
My  country's  fafety  is  indeed  a  boon, 
His  folly  gives  a  precious  boon,  which  Greece 
Will  by  perdition  to  his  throne  repay. 

He  faid.   The  Perfian  haftens  through  the  pafs* 
Once  more  the  ftern  Diomedon  arofe. 
Wrath  overcaft  his  forehead  while  he  fpake  : 

Yet  more  muft  flay  and  bleed.  Detetted  Thebes 
Ne'er  fliall  receive  her  traitors  back.  This  fpot 
Shall  fee  their  perfidy  aton'd  by  death, 
L  1  Uj 


534  THE   WORKS 

Ev'n  from  that  pow'r,  to  which  their  abject  hearts 

Have  facrific'd  their  faith.  Nor  dare  to  hope, 

Ye  vile  defcrters  of  the  public  weal, 

Ye  coward  flaves,  that  mingled  in  the  heaps 

Of  gen'rous  victims  to  their  country's  good, 

You  fliall  your  fhame  conceal    Whoe'er  fhall  pafs 

Along  this  field  of  glorious  flain,  and  mark 

For  veneration  ev'ry  nobler  corl'e  ; 

His  heart,  though  warm  in  rapturous  applaufe, 

A  while  fhall  curb  the  tranfport  to  repeat 

His  execrations  o'er  fuch  impious  heads, 

On  whom  that  fate,  to  others  yielding  fame, 

Is  infamy  and  vengeance.  Dreadful  thus 

Ori  the  pale  Thcbans  fentence  he  pronounc'd, 

Like  Rhadamanthus  from  th'  infernal  feat 

Of  judgment,  which  inexorably  dooms 

The  guilty  dead  to  ever-during  pain ; 

While  Phlegethon  his  flaming  volumes  rolls 

Before  their  fight,  and  ruthlefs  furies  fhake 

Their  hifling  ferpents.  All  the  Greeks  aflent 

In  clamours,  echoing  through  the  concave  rock. 

Forth  Anaxander  in  th'  afiembly  flood, 

Which  he  addrefs'd  with  indignation  feign'd : 

If  yet  your  clamours,  Grecians,  are  allay'd, 
Lo!  I  appear  before  you  to  demand, 
Why  thefe  my  brave  companions,  who  alone 
Among  the  Thebans  through  diffuading  crowds 
Their  paflage  forc'd  to  join  your  camp,  fhould  bear 
The  name  of  traitors  ?  By  an  exil'd  wretch 
"We  are  traduc'd,  by  Demaratus,  driv'n 
From  Spartan  confines,  who  hath  meanly  fought 
,  Barbarian  courts  for  fhelter.  Hath  he  drawn 
Such  virtues  thence,  that  Sparta,  who  before 
Held  him  unworthy  of  his  native  fway, 
Should  truft  him  now,  and  doubt  auxHiar  friends  ? 
Injurious  men  !   We  fcorn  the  thoughts  of  flight. 
Let  Afia  bring  her  numbers;  unconftrain'd, 
"We  will  confront  them,  and  for  Greece  expire. 

Thus  in  the  garb  of  virtue  he  adorn'd        '   • 
Neceffity.  JLaconia's  king  perceiv'd 
Through  all  its  fair  difguife  the  traitor's  heart. 
So,  when  at  firft,  mankind  in  fcience  rude      •  . 
Rever'd  the  moon,  as  bright  in  native  beams, 
Some  fage,  who  walk'd  with  nature  through  her 
By  wifdom  led,  difcern'd  the  various  orb,    [works, 
Dark  in  itfclf,  in  foreign  fplendours  clad. 

Leonidas  concludes.  Ye  Spartans,  hear  ; 
Hear  you,  O  Grecians,  in  our  lot  by  choice 
Partakers,  deflin'd  to  enrol  your  names 
•  In  time's  eternal  record,  and  enhance 
Your  country's  luflre:  lo!  the  noontide  blaze 
Inflames  the  broad  horizon.  Each  retire ; 
Each  in  his  tent  invoke  the  pow'r  of  fleep 
To  brace  his  vigour,  to  enlarge  his  ftrength 
For  long  endurance.  When  the  fun  dcfconds, 
Let  each  appear  in  arms.   You,  brave  allies 
Of  Corinth,  Phlius,  and  Mycenae's  tow'rs, 
Arcadians,  Locrians,  muft:  not  yet  depart. 
While  we  r«pofe,  embattled  wait.  Retreat 
When  we  our  tents  abandon.  I  refign 
To  great  Oileus'  fon  fupreme  ccmmand. 
Take  my  embraces,  ^Efchylus.  The  fleet 
Expects  thee.  To  Theiniflocles  report, 
What  thou  haft  feen  and  heard.  O-thricc  farewell! 
Th'  Athenian anfwer'd:  To  yourfelves,my  friends, 
i'cur  virtues  immortality  fecure, 
Your  bright  examples  victory  to  Greece. 
'-  Retaining  tlicic  injunctions,  all  difpers'd  j 


QF   GLOVER. 

While  in  his  tent  Leonidas  remain'd 

Apart  with  Agis,  whom  he  thus  befpake  : 

Yet  in  our  fall  the  pond'rous  hand  of  Greece 

Shall  Afia  feel.  This  Perfian's  welcome  tale 

Of  us,  inextricably  doom'd  her  prey, 

Ashy  the  force  of  forcery  will  wrap 

Security  around  her,  will  fupprefs 

Ail  fenfe,  all  thought  of  danger.  Brother,  know, 

That  foon  as  Cynthia  from  the  vault  of  heav'n 

Withdraws  her  fhining  lamp,  through  Afia's  hoft 

Shall  maflacre  and  defolation  rage. 

Yet  not  to  bafe  aflbciates  will  I  truft 

My  vaft  defign.  Their  perfidy  might  warn 

The  unfufpecting  foe,  our  fairefl  fruits 

Of  glory  thus  be  wither'd.  Ere  we  move, 

While  on  the  folcmn  facrifice  intent, 

As  Lacedemon's  ancient  laws  ordain, 

Our  pray'rs  we  offer  to  the  tuneful  nine, 

Thou  whifper  through  the  willing  ranks  of  Thebes 

Slow  and  in  filence  to  difperfe  and  fly. 

Now  left  by  Agis,  on  his  couch  r°clin'd, 
The  Spartan  king  thus  meditates  alone : 

My  fate  is  now  impending.  O  my  foul, 
What  more  aufpicious  period  could'ft  thou  choofc 
For  death,  than  now,  when  beating  high  in  joy, 
Thou  tell'ft  me  I  am  happy  ?  If  to  live, 
Or  die,  as  virtue  dictates,  be  to  know 
The  pureft  blif«;  if  fhe  her  charms  difplayg 
Still  lovely,  flill  unfading,  flill  ferene 
To  youth,  to  age,  to  death:  whatever  be 
Thofe  other  climes  of  happinefs  unchang*d, 
Which  Heav'n  in  dark  futurity  conceals, 
Still  here,  O  virtue,  thou  art  all  our  good! 
Oh,  what  a  black,  unfpeakable  revcrfe 
Muft  the  unrighteous,  muft  the  tyrant  prove  ? 
What  in  the  ftrugglc  of  departing  day, 
When  life's  laft  glimpfe, extingtiifhing,  prefentt 
Unknown,  inextricable  gloom  ?  But  how 
Can  I  explain  the  terrors  of  a  breaft, 
Where  guilt  rcfides  ?  Leonidas,  forego 
The  horrible  conception,  and  again 
Within  thy  own  felicity  retire  ; 
Bow  grateful  down  to  him,  who  form'd  thy  mini 
Of  crimes  unfruitful,  never  to  admit 
The  black  imprefiion  of  a  guilty  thought. 
Elfe  could  I  fcarlefs  by  deliberate  choice 
Relinquifh  life  ?  This  calm  'from  minds  deprav'd 
Is  ever  abfent.    Oft  in  them  the  force 
Of  fome  prevailing  pafiion  for  a  time 
Supprtfles  fear.    Precipitate  they  lofe 
The  fenfe  of  danger ;  when  dominions  wealth, 
Or  purple  pomp,  enchant  the  dazzled  fight,    . 
Purfuing  flill  the  joys  of  life  alone.    < 

But  he,  who  calmly  feeks  a  certain  death, 
When  duty  only,  and  the  gen'ral  good 
Direct  his  courage,  muft  a  foul  poflefs. 
Which  all  content  deducing  from  itfelf, 
Can  by  unerring  virtue's  conftant  light 
Difcern,  when  death  is  worthy  of  his  choice. 

The  man,  thus  great  and  happy  in  the  fcope 
Of  his  large  mind,  is  ftictch'd  beyond  his  date. 
Ev'n  on  this  fhore  of  being,  he  in  thought 
Supremely  blefs'd,  anticipates  the  good 
Which  late  pofterity  from  him  derives. 

At  length  the  hero'*  meditations  clofe. 
The  fvvelling  tranfport  of  his  heart  fubfidc* 
In  foft  oblivion  ;  and  the  filken  plumes 
Oi'  fltcp  envelop  his  extended  limbs, 


L  I  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


535 


BOOK   XI. 


THE  ARGUMENT. 

Leonidas,  rifing  before  fun-fet^  difmifTes  the  forces 
under  the  command  of  Medon  ;  but  observing 
a  reluctance  in  him  to  depart,  reminds  him  of 
his  duty,  and  gives  him  an  affectionate  farewell. 
He  then  relates  to  his  own  felect  band  a  dream, 
which  is  interpreted  by  Megiftias,  arms  himi'elf, 
and  marches  in  proceflion  with  his  whole  troop 
to  an  altar,  newly  raifed  on  a  neighbouring 
meadow  ;  there  offers  a  facrifice  to  the  mutes  : 
he  invokes  the  afiiftance  of  thole  goddefles;  he 
animates  his  companions;  then,  placing  him- 
felf  at  their  head,  leads  them  againft  the  enemy 
in  the  dead  of  the  night. 

THE  day  was  clofing.    Agis  left  his  tent. 
He  fought  his  godlike  brother.    Him  he  found 
Stretch'd  o'er  his  tranquil  couch.    His  looks  re- 

tain'd 

The  cheerful  tin&ure  of  his  waking  thoughts 
To  gladden  fleep.  So  fmile  foft  evening  ikies, 
Yet  ftreak'd  with  ruddy  light,  when  fummer's 

funs 
Have  veil'd  their  beaming  foreheads.     Tranfport 

fill'd 

The  eye  of  Agis.   Friend/hip  fwell'd  his  heart. 
His  yielding  knee  in  veneration  bent. 
The  hero's  hand  he  kifs'd,  then  fervent  thus : 

O  excellence  ineffable,  receive 
This  fecret  homage  ;  and  may  gentle  fleep 
Y<et  longer  feal  thine  eyelids,  that,  unblam'd, 
J  may  fall  down  before  thee.  He  concludes 
In  adoration  of  his  friend  divine, 
Whofe  brow  the  ihades  of  (lumber  npw  forfake. 
Soi  when  the  rifing  fuu  refumes  his  ftate, 
Some  white-rob'd  magnus  on  Euphrates  fide, 
Or  Indian  feer  Ofi  Ganges  proftrate  falls 
Before  th'  emerging  glory,  to  lalute 
That  radiant  emMem  of  th  immortal  mind. 

Uprife  both  heroes.   From  their  tents  in  arms 
Appear  the  bands  elect.  The  other  Greeks 
Art  fiJjng  homewaid.  Only  Medon  (tops. 
Melifla'iTdictates  he  forgets  a  while. 
All  inattentive  to  the  warning  voice 
Of  Melibceus,  eacnelt  he  furveys 
Leonidas.    Such  conftancy  of  zeal 
In  good  Oileus'  offspring  brings  the  fire 
To  full  remembrance  in  that  iolemn  hour, 
And  draws  thefe  cordial  accents  from  the  king  : 

Approach  me,  Locrian.   In  thy  look  I  trace 
Conlummate  faith  and  love.  But,  vers'd  in  arms? 
Againft  thy  gen'ral's  orders  would'ft  thou  ftay  ? 
Go,  prove  to  kind  O'ileus,  that  my  heart 
Of  him  was  mindful,  when  the  gates  of  death 
1  barr'd  againlt  his  fon.  Yon  gallant  Greeks, 
To  thy  commanding  care  from  mine  transferr'd, 
Remove  from  certain  flaughter.    Laft  repair 
To  Lacedemon.   Thither  lead  thy  fire. 
Say  to  her  fenate,  to  her  people  tell, 
Here  didft  thou  leave  their  countrymen  and  king 
On  death  relblv'd,  obedient  to  the  laws. 

The  Locrian  chi(?f,  retraining  tears,  replies : 
My  fire,  left  flumb'ring  in  the  illand-fane, 
Awoke  no  more.   Then  joyful  I  fhall,  meet 


Him  foon,  the  king  made  anfwer.  Let  thy  worth 

Supply  thy  father's.    Virtue  bids  me  die, 

Thee  live.    Farewell.    Now  Medon's  grief,  o'er. 

aw'd 

By  wifdom,  leaves  his  long-fufpended  mind 
To  firm  decifion.    He  departs,  prepar'd 
For  all  the  duties  of  a  man,  by  deeds 
To  prove  himfelf  the  friend  of  Sparta's  king, 
Meliffa's  brother,  and  Oileus'  fon. 

The  gen'rous  victims  of  the  public  weal, 
Aflembled  now,  Leonidas  falutes, 
His  pregnant  foul  dilburd'ning.    O  thrice  hail ! 
Surround  me,  Grecians;  to  my  words  attend. 
This  evening's  fleep  no  fooner  prefs'd  my  brows, 
Than  o'er  my  head  the  empyreal  form 
Of  heav'n-enthron'd  Alcides  was  difplay'd. 
I  faw  his  magnitude  divine.   His  voice 
I  heard)  his  folemn  mandate  to  arife. 
I  role.    He  bade  me  follow.    I  obey'd. 
A   mountain's    fummit,    clear'd  from    mift,    or 

cloud, 

We  reach'd  in  filence.   Suddenly  the  howl 
Of  wolves  and  dogs,  the  vulture's  piercing  fliriek, 
.The  yell  of  ev'ry  bead  and  bird  of  prey 
Difcordant  grated  on  my  ear.    I  turn'd. 
A  furface  hideous,  delug'd  o'er  with  blood, 
Beyond  my  view  illimitably  ftretch'd, 
One  vaft  expanfe  of  horror.    There  fupine, 
Of  huge  dimenfion,  cov'ring  half  the  plain, 
A  giant  code  lay  mangled,  red  with  wounds, 
Delv'd  in  th'   enormous  flefh,  which,  bubbling, 

fed 

Ten  thoufand  thoufand  grifly  beaks  and  jaws, 
Infatiably  devouring.    Mute  I  gaz'd; 
When  from  behind  1  heard  a  fecond  found 
Like  furges,  tumbling  o'er  a  craggy  fliore. 
Again  I  turn'd.    An  ocean  there  appear'd 
With  riven  keels  and  fhrouds,  with  fhiver'4  oars, 
With  arms  and  welt'ring  carcafles  beftrewn 
Innumerous.    The  billows  roam'd  in  blood. 
But  where  the  waters,  unoblerv'd  before, 
Between  two  advene  fliores,  contracting,  roll'd 
A  ftormy  current,  on  the  beach  forlorn 
One  of  majeftic  ftature  I  dclcry'd 
In  ornaments  imperial.    Oft  he  bent 
On  me  his  clouded  eyeballs..    Oft  my  name 
He  founded  forth  in  execrations  loud; 
Then  rent  his  fplendid  garments  ;  then  his  head 
In  rage  divefted  of  its  graceful  hairs. 
Impatient  now  he  ey'd  a  (lender  fluff", 
Which,  mounted  high  on  boiftrous  waves,  ap- 

proach'd. 

With  indignation,  with  reluctant  grief 
Once  more  his  light  reverting,  he  embark'd 
Amid  the  perils  of  the  frowning  deep. 

0  thou,  by  gloiious  actions  rank'd  in  heav'n, 

1  here  exclaim'd,  inftruct  me.   What  produc'd 
This  defolation  ?  Hercules  reply'd: 

Let  thy  a(toni(h'd  eye  again  furvey 
The  ((.en:,  thy  foul  abhorr'd.  1  look'd.   I  faw 
A  land,  where  plenty  with  difporting  hands 
Pour'd  all  the  fruits  of  Amalthea's  horn  ; 
Where  bloom'd  the  olive ;  where  the  duft'ring 

vine 

Wi'.h  her  broad  foliage  mantled  ev'ry  hill ; 
\V  here  Ceres  with  exuberance  enrob'd 
The  pregnant  bofoms  uf  the  fields,  in  goldj 


THE   WORKS    OF   GLOVER. 


Where  fpacious  towns,  u-hofe  circuits  proud  con- 

tain'd 

The  dazzling  works  of  wealth  along  the  banks 
Of  copious  rivers  fhow'd  their  ftately  tovv'rs, 
^  he  llrength  and  i'plendour  of  the  peopled  land. 
Then  in  a  moment  clouds obfcur'd  my  view; 
At  once  ail  vanifh'd  from  my  waking  eyes. 

Thrice  1  falute  the  omew,  loud  began 
The  fage  Megiftias,  In  this  myfHc  dream 
I  fee  my  country's  victories.    The  land, 
The  d<ep  fliall  own  her  triumphs ;  while  the  tears 
Of  Afia  and  of  Libya  (hall  deplore 
1  heir  offspring,  caft  before  the  vulture's  beak, 
And  ev'ry  monllrous  native  qf  the  main. 
Thofe  joyous  fields  of  plenty  picture  Greece, 
Enrich'd  by  conqueft,  and  barbarian  fpoils. 
He,  whom  thou  law'ft,  in  regal  veftiue  clad, 
Print  on  the  fand  his  folitary  ftep, 
Is  Xerxes,  foil'd  and  fugitive.    So  fpake 
*1  he  rev'rend  augur.    Ev'ry  bofom  felt 
Emhufkllic  rapture,  joy  beyond 
All  fenfe,  and  all  conception,  but  of  thofe, 
Who  die  to  fave  their  country.    Here  again 
Th'  exulting  band  Leomdas  addrefs'd. 

Since  happinefs  from  virtue  is  deriv'd, 
Who /or  his  country  die?,  that  moment  proves 
IMoft  happy,  as  molt  virtuous.   Such  our,  lot. 
But  go,  Megiftias.    Instantly  prepare 
The  lac  red  fuel,  and  the  victim  due  ; 
That  to  the  mufes  (fo  by  Sparta's  law 
V/e  are  enjoin'd)  our  off'rings  may  be  paid, 
.Before  we  march.    Remember,  from  the  rites 
Let  ev'-ry  found'be  abfent ;  not  the  fife, 
Not  ev'n  the  mufk-breathing  flute  be  heard. 
Meantime,  ye  leaders,  ev'ry  band  iuftruct 
To  move  in  lilence.    Mindful  of  their  charge 
The  chiefs  depart.   Leonidas  provides 
His  various  armour.    Agis  clofe  attends, 
His  beft  afiiftant.    Firft  a  breaftplate  arms 
The  fpacious  cheft.    O'er  this  the  hero  fpieads 
The  mailed  cuirafs,  from  his  faoulders  hung. 
A  mining  belt  infolds  his  mighty  loins. 
Next  on  his  ftateiy  temples  he  creels 
The   plumed   helm :    then  grafps  his  pond'rous 

fliidd  : 

Where  nigh  the  centre  on  projecting  brafs 
Th'  inimitable  artift  had  embofs'd 
The  fiiape  of  great  Alcides  j  whom  to  gain 
Two  goddefies  contended.   Pleal'ure  here 
Won  by  foft  wiles  th'  attracted  eye  ;  and  there 
"he  form  of  virtue  dignify 'd  the  iVene. 
In  her  majeftic  fweetnefs  was  difplay'd 
The  mind  fublime  and  happy.    From  her  lips 
Seem'-d  eloquence  to  flow.    In  look  ferene, 
But  rix'd  intenfely  on  the  fon  of  Jove, 
She  wav'd  her  hand,  where,  winding  to  the  flues, 
He*  paths  afcended.    On  the  fummit  Mood, 
Supported  by  a  trophy  near  to  heav'n, 
Fame,  and  protended  her  eternal  trump. 
The  youth  attentive  to  her  wifdom  own'd 
The  prevalence  of  virtue  ;  while  his  eye, 
Fill'd  by  that  fpirit,  which  redeem'd  the  world 
From  tyranny  ami  monfters,  darted  flames  ; 
Not  undefcry'd  by  pleafure,  where  (lie  la/ 
Beneath  a  gorgeous  canopy.    Around 
"Were  floiyrets  ftrewn,  and  wantonly  in  rills 
A  fou  >t  meander'd.  All  rekx'd  her  li 


Nor  wanting  yet  fulicitude  to  gain. 

What  loft  flie  fear'd,  as  itruggling  with  defpaiV, 

She  feem'tl  collecting  ev'ry  pow'r  to  charm  : 

Exccfs  of  fweet  allurement  fhe  dift'us'd 

In  vain.   Stiil  virtue  fway'd  Alcide*1  mind. 

Hence  ail  his  labours.     Wrought  with  vary'4  ait, 

The  flue  Id's  external  furface  they  enrich'd. 

This  portraiture  of  glory  on  his  arm 
Leonidas  difplays,  and,  tow'ring,  ftrides 
From  his  pavilion.    Ready  are  the  bands. 
The  chiefs  arTt.me  their  ftation.  Torches  blaze 
Through  ev'ry  file.  All  now  in  filent  pace 
To  join  in  folernn  facrifice  proceed. 
Firft  Polydorus  bears  the  hallow'd  knife, 
The  facredialt  and  barley.  At  his  fide 
Dioniedou  fuftains  a  weighty  mace. 
The  prieft,  Megiftias,  follows  like  the  reft 
In  polifli'd  armour.  White  as  winter's  fleece, 
A  fillet  round  his  flu'ning  helm  reveals 
The  facerdotal  honours.  By  the  horns, 
Where  laurels  twine,  with  Alpheus  Maron  leadi 
The  confecrated  ox.  And  lo  1  behind, 
Leonidas  advances.  Never  he 
In  fuch  tranfcendent  majefty  was  feen, 
And  his  own  virtue  never  fo  enjcy'd. 
Succefllve  move  Diencces  the  brave, 
In  hoary  ftate  Demophilus,  the  bloom 
Of  Uithyrambus,  glowing  in  the  hope 
Of  future  praife,  the  gen'rous  Agis  next 
Serene  and  graceful,  laft  the  Theban  chiefs, 
Repining,  ignominious  :  then  flow  march 
The  troops  all  mute,  nor  ihake  their  braxen  armsi 

Not  trom  Thermopylae  remote  the  hills      * 
Of  Oeta,  yielding  to  a  fruitful  dale, 
Within  their  fide,  half-circling,  had  enclos'd 
A  fair  expanie  in  verdure  finooih.  The  bounds 
Were  edg'd  by  wood,  o'erlook'd  by  fnowy  clifts, ' 
Which,  from  the  douds  bent  frowning.     Down  a 

rock 

Above  the  loftieft  fuinrait  of  th?  grove 
A  tumbling  torrent  wore  the  (bagged  iione  ; 
Then,  gleaming  through  the  intervals  of  ihade, 
Attaiu'd  the  valley,  where  the  level  ftream 
Diffus'd  refreihment.  On  its  banks  the  Greeks  . 
Had  rais'd  a  ruftic  altar,  fram'd  of  turf. 
Broad  was  the  furface,  high  in  piles  of  wood, 
All  interfpers'd  with  laurel.  Purer  deem'd, 
Than  river,  lake,  or  fountain,  in  a  vale 
Oid  Ocean's  briny  element  was  piac'd 
Before  the  altar;  and  of  wine  unmix'd 
Capacious  goblets  ftood.  Megiftias  now 
His  helm  unloofen'd.   With  his  fnowy  head., 
Uncover'd,  round  the  folemn  pile  he  trod. 
He  fbook  a  branch  of  laurel,  fcatt'ring  wide 
The  facred  raoifture  of  the  main.  His  hand 
Next  on  the  altar,  on  the  victim  ftrew'd 
The  mingled  fait  and  barley.  O'er  the  horns 
Th'  inverted  chalice,  foaming  from  the  grape, 
Difcharg'd  a  rich  libation.  Then  approach'd 
Diomedon.  Megiftias  gave  the  fign. 
Down  funk  the  victim  by  a  deathfi.il  ftroke, 
Nor  groan'd.  The  augur  bury'd  in  the  throat 
His  hallow'd  fteel.    A  purple  current  flow'd. 
Now  fmok'tl  the  ftruclurc,  now  it  flam'd  abroad 
In  fudden  fplendour.  Deep  in  circling  ranks 
The  Grecians  prefs'd.      Each  hel,d  a  fparklinj 
brand ; 


E  0  N  I D  A  1 


The  beaming  lances  intermix'd  ;  the  helms, 
The  burnilh'd  armour  multiply'd  the  blaze. 
Leon-Idas  drew  nigh.  Before  the  pile 
His  feet  he  planted.  From  his  brows  remov'd, 
The  caique  to  Agis  hs  confign'd,  his  {hi eld, 
His  fpear  to  Dithyrarnbus;  then,  his  arms 
Extending,  forth  in  {'applications  broke. 

Harmonious  daughters  of  Olympian  Jove, 
Who,  on  the  top  of  Helicon  ador'd, 
And  high  Parnallus,  with  delighted  ears 
Bend  to  the  warble  of  Caftalia's  ftream, 
Or  Aganippe's  murmur,  if  from  thence 
\Ve  muft  invoke  your  prefence  ;  or  along 
The  nelghb'ring  mountains  with  propitious  fteps 
It  now  you  grace  your  confecrated  bow'rs, 
Look  down,  ye  mufes ;  nor  difdain  to  ttand 
Each  an  immortal  witnefs  of  our  fate. 
JBut  with  you  bring  fair  Liberty,  whom  Jove, 
And  you  muft  honour.  Let  her  facred  eyes 
Appio/e  her  dying  Grecians;  let  her  voice 
Jn  exultation  tell  the  earth  and  heav'ns, 
Thefe  are  her  Ions.     Then   itrike  your  tuneful 

•       flielh. 

Record  us  guardians  of  our  parent's  age, 
Our  matron's  virtue,  and  our  children's  bloom, 
The  glorious  bulwarks  of  our  country's  laws, 
Who  (hall  ennoble  the  hiftorian's  page, 
Shall  on  the  joyous  feftival  infpire 
With  loftier  itraius  the  virgin's  choral  fong. 
Then,  O  celeftial  maids,  on  yonder  camp 
Let  night  fit  heavy.    Let  a  fleep  like  death 
Weigh  down  the  eye  of  Alia.   O  infufe 
A  cool,  untroubled  fpirit  in  our  brearts, 
Which  may  in  filence  guide  our  daring-  feet, 
Controul  our  fury,  nor  by  tumult  wild 
The  friendly  dark  affright ;  till  dying  groans 
Of  flaughterM  tyrants  into  horror  wake 
The  midnight  calm.  Then  turn  deilruction  loofe. 
Let  terror,  let  confufion  rage  around, 
In  one  vaft  ruin  heap  the  barb'rous  ranks, 
Their  horfe,  their  chariots.    Let  the  fjmrning  (teed 
Imbrue  his  hoofs  in  blood,  the  fliatterM  cars 
Crufli  with  their  brazen  weight  the  proftrate  necks 
Of  chiefs  and  kings,  encircled,  as  they  fall, 
By  nations  (lain.    You,  countrymen  and  friends, 
My  laft  commands  retain.   Your  gen'ral's  voice 
Once  more  falutes  you,  not  to  roufe  the  brave, 
Or  minds,  refolv'd  and  dauntlefs,  to  confirm. 
Too  well  by  this  expiring  blaze  I  fee 
Impatient  valour  fla(h  from  ev'ry  eye. 
O  temper  well  that  ardour,  and  your  lips 
Clofe  on  the  rifiug  trani'port.    Mark,  how  ileep 
Hath  folded  millions  in  his  black  embrace. 
No  found  is  wafted  from  th'  unnumber'd  foe. 
The  winds  themfelves  are  Client.  All  confpires 
To  this  great  facrifice,' where  thoufands  foon 
Shall  only  wake  to  die.   Their  crowded  train 
This  night  perhaps  to  Pluto's  dreary  {hades 
Ev'n  Xerxes'  ghofl  may  lead,  unlefs  referv'd 
From  this  deftruclion  to  lament  a  doom 
Of  more  difgrace,  when  Greece  confpunds  that 

pow'r, 

Which  we  (hall  fluke.    But  look,  the  fetting  moon 
Shuts  on  our  darkforne  paths  her  waining  hotns. 
Let  each  his  head  diftinguifii  by  a  wreath 
Of  well-earn'd  laurel.  Then  the  victim  (hare. 
Then  crown  the  goblet.  Take  your  laft  rspaft  ; 


537 


With  your  forefathers,  and  the  heroes  old 
You  next  will  banquet  in  the  blels'd  abodes. 

Here  ends  their  leader.  Through  th'  encircling 

crowd 

The  agitation  of  their  fpears  denotes 
High  ardour.    So  the  ipiry  growth  of  pines 
Is  rock'd,  when  vEolus  in  eddies  winds 
Among  tieir  Stately  trunks  on  Pelion's  brow. 
The  Acarnanian  feer  diftributes  fwift 
The  facred  liurel.   Snatch'd  in  eager  zeal, 
Around  each  helm  the  woven  leaves  unite 
Their  gloffy  verdure  to  the  floating  plumes. 
Then  is  the  victim  portion'd.  In  the  bowl 
Then  flows  the  vine's  empurpled  ftream.  Aloof 
The  Theban  train  in  wan  dejection  mute 
Brood  o'er  their  (hame,  or  ca'ft  affrighted  looks 
On  that  determin'd  courage,  which,  unmov'd 
At  fate's  approach,  with  cheerful  lips  could  tafte 
The  fparkling  goblet,  could  in  joy  partake 
That  lair,  that  glorious  banquet.    Ev'n  the  heart 
Of  Anaxander  had  forgot  its  wiles, 
Diffembling  fear  no  longer.    Agis  here, 
Regardful  ever  of  the  king's  command, 
Accofts  the  Thc-ban  chiefs  in  whiipers  thus : 

Ltonidas  permits  you  to  retire. 
While  on  the  rites  of  lacrifice  employ'd, 
None  heed  yoar  motions.   Separate  and  fly 
In  filent  pace.    This  heard,  th'  inglorious  troop, 
Their  files  diirolving,  from  the  reft  withdraw. 
Unfeen  they  moulder  from  the  hoft  like  fnow, 
Freed  from  the  rigour  of  conltraining  froft  ; 
Soon  as  the  fu:i  exerts  his  orient  beam, 
The  tranfitory  !andicape  melts  in  rills 
Away,  and  ft:  uclures,  which  delude  the  eye, 
Infenfibly  are  loir.    The  folemn  feaft 
Was  now  concluded.   Now  Laconia's  king 
Had  reaOutn'd  his  arms.    Before  his  ftep 
The  crowd  rail  backward.    In  their  gladden'd 

fight 

His  creft,  illumin'd  by  uplifted  brands, 
Its  purple  fplendour  {hakes.    The  tow'ring  oak 
Thus  from  a  lofty  promontory  waves 
His  majefty  uf  verdure.    As  with  joy 
The  Jailors  mark  his  heav'n-afcending  pride, 
Which  from  afar  directs  their  foamy  courfe 
Along  the  pathlefs  ocean ;  fo  the  Greeks 
In  ti'anfport  gaze,  as  down  their  op'ning  ranks 
The  king  proceeds  :  from  whofe  fuperior  frame* 
A  foul  like  thine,  O  Phidias,  might  conceive 
In  Parian  marble,  or  effulgent  brafs 
The  form  of  great  Apollo;  when  the  god, 
Won  by  the  pray'rs  of  man's  afflicted  race. 
In  arms  tbrlbok  his  lucid  throne  to  pierce 
The  moalter  Python  in  the  Delphian  vale. 
Clofe  by  the  hero  Polydorus  waits 
To  guide  deftruction  through  the  Afian  tenfs.- 
As  the  young  eagle  near  his  parent's  fide 
In  wanton  flight  eiTays  his  vig'rous  wing, 
Ere  long  with  her  to  penetrate  the  clouds, 
To  dart  impetuous  on  the  fleecy  train. 
And  dye  his  beak  in  gore  ;  by  Sparta's  king 
The  injur'd  Polydorus  thus  prepares 
His  ann  for  «:tath.    He  feafts  his  angry  foul 
On  promised  vengeance.    His  impatient  thoughts 
Ev'n  now  transport  him  furious  to  the  feat 
Of  his  long  forrows,  not  with  fetter'd  hands, 
But  now  or.ce  more  a  Spartaa  with  his  fpear, 


THE   WOfcKS   Gt    GLOVER. 


His  fhield  reftor'd,  to  lead  his  country's  bands, 
And  with  them  devaftation.    Nor  the  reft 
Neglect  to  form,    i  hick-rang'd,  the  helmets  blend 
Their  various  plumes,  as  intermingling  oaks 
Combine  their  foliage  in  Dodona's  grove ; 
Or  as  the  ctda-s  on  the  Syrian  hills 
Their  fhady  texture  furead.   One?  more  the  king, 
O'er  all  the  phalanx  his  confid'rate  view 
Extending,  through  the  ru.ldy  gleam  defcfies 
One  face  of  glaclnefs;  but  the  godlike  tfan 
He  moft  contemplates  :  Agis,  Alpheus  there, 
Megiitias,  Maron  with  Platza's chief, 
Dieneces,  Demophilus  are  feen 
With  Thefpia's  youth :  nor  they  their  fteady  fight 
From  his  remove,  in  fpeechlefs  tranfport  bound 
Jjy  love,  by  veneration  ;  till  they  hear 
His  lait  injunction.   To  their  diff'rent  pods 
They  fep'rate.   Inftant  on  the  dewy  turf 
Are  call  th'  extinguifh'd  brands.    On  all  around 
Drops  fudden  darknefs,  on  the  wood,  the  hill, 
The  fnowy  ridge,  the  vale,  the  filver  dream. 
It  verg'd  on  midnight.    Tow'rd  the  hoftile  camp 
In  march  compos'd  and  iilent  down  the  pafs 
The  phalanx  mov'd.  Each  patient  bofom  hufh'd 
Its  ftruggling  fpirit,  nor  in  whifpers  breath'd 
The  rapc'rous  ardour,  virtue  then  infpir'd. 
So  lowting  clouds  along  th'  ethereal  void 
In  flow  expanfion  from  the  gloomy  north 
A  while  fufpend  their  horrors,  deitin'd  foon 
To  blaze  m  lightnings,  and  to  burit  in  ftorms. 

BOOK.  XII. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

Leonidas  and  the  Grecians  penetrate  through  the 
Perfian  camp  to  the  very  pavilion  of  Xerxes, 
who  avoids  destruction  by  flight.  The  bar 
barians  are  flaughtered  in  great  multitudes, 
and  their  camp  is  fet  on  fire.  Leonidas  conducts 
his  men  in  good  order  back  to  Thermopylae, 
engages  the  Perfians,  who  were  defcended  from 
the  hills,  and  after  numberlefs  proofs  of  fuperior 
ftrergth  and  valour,  finks  down  covered  with 
wounds,  and  expires  the  iaft.  of  all  the  Grecian 
commanders. 

ACROSS  th'  unguarded  bound  of  Ada's  camp 
Slow  pafs  the  Grecians.  Through  unnum'roustents, 
Where  all  is  mute  and  tranquil,  they  purfue 
Their  march  fedate.    Beneath  the  leaden  hand 
Of  fleep  lie  millions  motionlefs  and  deaf, 
Nor  dream  of  fate's  approach.  Their  wary  foes, 
J5y  Polydorus  guided,  ftill  proceed. 
Ev'n  to  the  centre  of  th*  extenfive  hoft 
They  pierce  unfeen ;  when  lo !  th'  imperial  tent 
Yet  diftant  rofe  before  them.    Spreading  round 
Th'  auguft  pavilion,  was  an  ample  fpace 
For  tboufands  in  arrangement.    Here  a  band 
Of  chofen  Perfians,  watchful  o'er  the  king, 
Held  their  nocturnal  Itation.    As  the  hearts 
Of  anxious  nations,  whom  th'  unfparing  fword, 
Or  famine  threaten,  tremble  at  the  fight 
Of  fear  engender'd  phantoms  in  the  fey, 
Aerial  holts  amid  the  clouds  array'd. 
Portending  woe  and  death  ;  the  Perfian  guard 
In  equal  confternation  now  defcry'd 
The  glimpfe  of  hoftile  armour.   All  difband, 
As  ijf  atmliar  to  his  favour'd  Greeks 


Pan  held  their  banner,  fcatt'ring  from  its  foldrf 
Fear,  and  confufton,  which  to  Xerxes  couch 
Swift -winged,  fly ;  thunce  (hake  the  gen'ral  camp, 
Whofe  numbers  iflue  naked,  pale,  unarm'd, 
Wild  in  amazement,  blinded  by  difmay, 
To  ev'ry  foe  obnoxious.     In  the  breafts 
Of  thoufands,  gor'd  at  once,  the  Grecian  fteel 
Reeks  in  deftruction.     Deluges  of  blood 
Float  o'er  the  field,  and  foam  around  the  heaps 
Of  wretches,  flain  unconfeious  of  the  hand, 
Which  waftes  their  helplefs  multitude.    Amaze, 
Affright,  diftracticJii  from  his  pillow  chafe 
The  lord  of  Afia,  who  in  thought  beholds 
United  Greece  in  arms.     Thy  luft  of  pow'r ! 
Thy  hope  of  glory  !  whither  are  they  Sown 
With  ail  thy  pomp  ?  In  this  difaft'rous  hour 
What  could  avail  the  immeafurable  range 
Of  thy  proud  camp,  fave  only  to  conceal 
Thy  trembling  fteps,  O  Xerxes,  while  thoufly'fl  ? 
To  thy  deferted  couch  with  other  looks 
With  other  fteps  Leonidas  is  nigh. 
Before  him  terror  ftrides.     Gigantic  death, 
And  defolation  at  his  fide  attend. 

The  vaft  pavilion's  empty  fpace,  where  lamps 
Of  gold  fhed  light  and  odours,  now  admits 
The  hero.     Ardent  throngs  behind  him  prefs, 
But  mifs  their  victim.     To  the  ground  are  hurl'd 
The  glitt'ring  enfigns  of  imperial  ftate. 
The  diadem,  the  fceptre,  late  ador'd  [feet 

Through  boundlefs  kingdoms,    underneath  their 
In  mingled  rage  and  fcoru  the  warriors  cruih 
A  facrifice  to  freedom.     They  return 
Again  to  form.    Leonidas  exalts, 
For  new  deftruciion  his  refiftlefs  fpear; 
When  double  darknefs  fuddenly  dcfcends. 
The  clouds,  condenfing,  intercept  the  ftars. 
Black  o'er  the  furrow'd  main  the  raging  eaft 
in  whirlwinds  fweeps  the  furge.    The  coafts  re- 
found. 

The  cavcrn'd  rocks,  the  crafhing  forefts  roar. 
Swift  through  the  camp  the  hurricane  impellt 
Its  rude  career ;  when  Afia's  numbers,  veil'd 
Amid  the  fhelt'ring  horrors  of  the  ftorrti, 
Evade  the  victor's  lance.     The  Grecians  haft } 
While  to  their  gen'ral's  pregnant  mind  occurs 
A  new  attempt  and  vaft.     Perpetual  fire 
Befide  the  tent  of  Xerxes  from  the  hour, 
He  lodg'd  his  ftandards  on  the  Malian  plain*, 
Had  fhone.    Among  his  Magi  to  adore 
Great  Horomazes  was  the  monarch  wont 
Before  the  facred  light.     Huge  piles  of  wood 
Lay  nigh,  prepared  to  feed  the  conftant  flame. 
On  living  embers  thefe  are  caft.     So  wills 
Leonidas.     The  phalanx  then  divides. 
Four  troops  are  form'd,  by  Dithyrambus  led, 
By  Alpheus,  by  Diomedon.    The  Iaft 
Himfelf  conducts.     The  word  is  giv'n.     They 

feize 

The  burning  fuel.     Sparkling  in  the  wind, 
Deflructive  fire  is  brandifh'd.     All,  enjoin' 4 
To  reaflemble  at  the  regal  tent, 
By  various  paths  the  hoitile  camp  invade. 
Now  devaflation,  unconfin'd,  involves 
The  Malian  fields.     Among  Barbarian  tents 
From  diff'rent  ftations  fly  confuming  flames. 
The  Greeks  afford  no  refpite  ;  and  the  ftorm, 
Exafperates  the  blaze.     To  ev'ry  part 
The  conflagration  like  a  Tea  expands,  ' 


L  E  O  N  1  D  A  S. 


One  waving  furfacc  of  unbounded  fire. 

In  ruddy  volumes  mount  the  curling  flames 

To  heav'n's  dark  vault,  and  paint  the  midnight 

clouds. 

So,  when  the  north  emits  his  purpled  lights, 
The  undulated  radiance,  {beaming  wide, 
As  with  a  burning  canopy  invclts 
Th'  ethereal  concave.     Oeta  now  difclos'd 
.His  forehead,  glitt'ring  in  eternal  frofl ; 
While  down  his  rocks  the  loamy  torrents  fhone. 
Far  o'er  the  main  the  pointed  rays  were  thrown  ; 
Night  fnatch'd  her  mantle  from  the  ocean's  breaft ; 
The  billows  glimmcr'd  from  the  diilant  fhores. 

'But  lo  !  a  pillar  huge  of  fmoke  afcends, 
"Which  overfhades  the  field.     There  horror,  there 
Leonidas  prefides.     Command  he  gave 
To  Polydorus,  who,  exulting,  fhow'd 
Where  Afia's  horfe,  and  warlike  cars  poflefs'd 
A  crowded  ftation.     At  the  hero's  nod 
Devouring  Vulcan  riots  on  the  (lores 
Of  Ceres,  empty'd  of  the  ripen'd  grain, 
On  all  the  tribute  from  her  meadows  brown, 
By  rich  TheiTalia  render'd  to  the  fcythe. 
A  flood  of  fire  envelopes  all  the  ground. 
The  cordage  burfts  around  the  blazing  tents. 
Down  fink  the  roofs  on  fuffocated  throngs, 
Clofe-wedg'd  by  fear.  The  Lybian  chariot  burns. 
Th'  Arabian  camel,  and  the  Perfian  fleed 
Bound  through  a  burning  deluge.  Wild  with  pain 
They  (hake  their  finged  manes.    Their  madding 

hoofs 
Dafli  through  the  blood  of  thoufands,  mix'd  with 

flames, 
Which  rage,  augmented  by  the  whirlwind's  blail. 

Meantime  the  fcepter'd  lord  of  half  the  globe 
From  tent  to  tent  precipitates  his  flight. 
Difpers'd  are  all  his  fatraps.     Pride  herfelf 
Shuns  his  dejected  brow.     Defpair  alone 
Waits  on  th'  imperial  fugitive,  and  fhows, 
As  round  the  camp  his  eye,  diftrafted,  roves, 
No  limits  to  deftru&ion.     Now  is  feen 
Aurora,  mounting  from  her  eaflern  hill 
In  rofy  fandals,  and  with  dewy  locks. 
The  winds  fubfide  before  her;  darknefs' flies; 
A  ftream  of  light  proclaims  the  cheerful  day, 
Which  fees  at  Xerxes'  tent  the  conqu'ring  bands, 
All  reunited.     What  could  fortune  more 
To  aid  the  valiant,  what  to  gorge  revenge  ? 
I-.0 !  defolation  o'er  the  adverfe  hoft 
Hath  empty'd  all  her  terrors.     Ev'n  the  hand 
Of  languid  flaughtcr  dropt  the  crimfon  fteel; 
Nor  nature  longer  can  fuftain  the  toil 
Of  unremitted  conqueft.     Yet  what  pow'r 
Among  thefe  fons  of  liberty  reviv'd 
Their  drooping  warmth,  new-flrung  their  nerves, 

recall'd 

Their  weary'd  fwords  to  deeds  of  brighter  fame  ? 
What,  but  th'  infpiring  hope  of  glorious  death 
To  crown  their  labours,  and  th'  aufpicious  look 
Of  their  heroic  chief,  which,  ftill  unchang'd, 
Still  in  fuperior  majefly  declar'd, 
No  toil  had  yet  relax' d  his  matchlefs  flrength, 
Nor  worn  the  vigour  of  his  godlike  foul. 

Back  to  the  pals  in  gentle  march  he  leads 
Th'  embattled  wariors.    They  behind  the  flirubs, 
Where  Medou  fent  fuch  numbers  to  the  fhadcs, 
In  ambufh  lie.     The  tempefl  is  o'erblown. 
Koft  breezes  only  from  the  Malian  wave 


O'er  each  grim  face,  bcfmear'd  with  fmoke  and 

gore, 

Their  cool  refrefhment  breathe.  The  healing  gale, 
A  cryftal  rill  near  Octa's  verdant  feet 
Dilpel  the  languor  from  their  harafs'd  nerves, 
Frelh  brac'd  by  ftrength  returning.    O'er  their 

heads 

Lo  !  in  full  blaze  of  majefty  appears 
MelifTa,  bearing  in  her  hand  divine 
Th'  eternal  guardian  of  illullrious  deeds, 
The  fweet  Phcebean  lyre.     Her  graceful  tram 
Of  white-rob'd  virgins,  featcd  on  a  range 
Half  down  the  cliff,  o'erfhadowing  the  Greeks, 
All  with  concordant  firings,  and  accent!  ckar 
A  torrent  pour  of  melody,  and  fwell 
A  high,  triumphal,  folemn  dirge  of  praife, 
Anticipating  fame.    Of  endlcfs  joys 
In  blefs'd  Elyfium  was  the  fong.     Go,  meet 
Lycurgus,  Solon  and  Zaleucus  fage, 
Let  them  falute  the  children  of  their  lawt. 
Meet  Homer,  Orpheus  and  th'  Afcrxan  bard, 
Who  with  a  fpirit,  by  ambrofial  food 
Refin'd,  and  more  exalted,  fhall  contend 
Your  fplendid  fate  to  warble  through  the  bow'r* 
Of  amaranth  and  myrtle  ever  young 
Like  your  renown.    Your  afhes  we  will  cull. 
In  yonder  fane  depofited,  your  urns 
Dear  to  the  mufes  fliall  our  lays  irvfpire. 
Whatever  off 'rings,  genius,  fcience,  art 
Can  dedicate  to  virtue,  fhall  be  yours, 
The  gifts  of  all  the  mufes,  to  tranfmit 
You  on  th'  enliven'd  canvafs,  marble,  brafs. 
In  wifdom's  volume,  in  the  poet's  fong, 
In  ev'ry  tongue,  through  ev'ry  age  and  clime, 
You  of  this  earth  the  brighteft  flow'rs,  not  cropt, 
Tranfplanted  only  to  immortal  bloom 
Of  praife  with  men,  of  happinefs  with  gods. 

The  Grecian  valour  on  religion's  flame 
To  ecftafy  is  wafted.     Death  is  nigh. 
As  by  the  graces  fafhion'd,  he  appears 
A  beauteous  form.    His  adamantine  gate 
Is  half  unfolded.    All  in  tranfport  catch 
A  glimpfe  of  immortality.    Elate 
In  rapturous  delufion  they  believe, 
That  to  behold  and  folemnize  their  fate 
The  goddefles  are  prefent  on  the  hills 
With  celebrating  lyres.    In  thought  ferene 
Leonidas  the  kind  deception  blefs'd, 
Nor  undeceiv'd  his  foldiers.    After  all 
Th'  inceflant  labours  of  the  horrid  night, 
Through  blood,  through  flames  continu'd,  he  pre 
pares 

In  order'd  battle  to  confront  the  pow'rs 
Of  Hyperanthes  from  the  upper  ftreights. 
Not  long  the  Greeks  in  expectation  wait 
Impatient.     Sudden  with  tumultuous  fhouts 
Like  Nile's  rude  current,  where  in  deaf  "ning  roar 
Prone  from  the  fteep  of  Elephantis  falls 
A  fea  of  waters,  Hyperanthes  pours 
His  chofen  numbers  on  the  Grecian  camp 
Down  from  the  hills  precipitant.    No  foes 
He  finds.     The  Thebans  join  him.     In  his  van 
They  march  conductors.     On,  the  Perfians  roll 
In  martial  thunder  through  the  founding  pafs. 
They  iflue  forth  impetuous  from  its  mouth. 
That  moment  Sparta's  leader  gave  the  fign ; 
When,  as  th*  impulfive  ram  in  forceful  fway 
G'cuurns  a  nodding  rampart  from  its  bafc, 


THE    WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


And  drew*  a  town  with  ruin,  fo  the  band 
Of  ferry'd  heroes  down  the  Malian  deep, 
Tremendous  depth,  the  mix'd  battalions  fwept 
Of  Thebes  and  Perfia.     There  no  waters  flow'd. 
Abrupt  and  naked  all  was  rock  beneath. 
Leonidas,  incens'd,  with  grappling  ftrength 
Dafh'd  Anaxander  on  a  pointed  crag ; 
Compos'd,  then  gave  new  orders.     At  the  word 
His  phalanx,  wheeling,  penetrates  the  pafs. 
Adooifti'd  Perfia  flops  in  full  career. 
Ev'n  Hyperanthes  (brinks  in  wonder  back. 
•Confufion  drives  frefh  numbers  from  the  fhore. 
The  Malian    ooze  o'erwhelins  them.     Sparta's 

king 

Still  preffes  forward,  till  an  open  breadth 
Of  fifty  paces  yields  his  front  extent 
To  proffer  battle.     Hyperanthes  foon 
Recalls  his  warriors,  diffipates  their  fears. 
Swift  on  the  great  Leomdas  a  cloud  [clofe. 

Of  darts  is  fhow'r'd.     Th'  encount'ring  armies 

Who  firft,  fublimeft  hero,  felt  thy  arm  ?  ' 
\Vhat  rivers  heard  along  their  echoing  banks 
Thy  name,  in  curfes  founded  from  the  lips 
Of  noble  mothers,  wailing  for  their  fons  ? 
"What  towns  with  empty  monuments  were  fill'd 
For  thofe,  whom  thy  unconquerable  fword 
This  day  to  vultures  caft  ?  Firft  Beffus  died, 
A  haughty  fatrap,  whole  tyrannic  fway 
Defpoil'd  Hyrcania  of  her  golden  fheaves, 
And  laid  her  foreds  wafte.     For  him  the  bees 
Among  the  branches  interwove  their  fweets ; 
For  him  the  fig  was  ripen'd,  and  the  vine 
In  rich  profufion  o'er  the  goblet  foam'd. 
Then  Dinis  bled.     On  Hermus'  fide  he  reign'd ; 
He  long  affiduous,  unavailing  woo'd 
The  martial  queen  of  Caria.     She  difdain'd 
A  lover's  foft  complaint      Her  rigid  ear 
Was  fram'd  to  watch  the  tempeft,  while  it  rag'd, 
Her  eye  acct;flom'd  on  the  rolling  deck 
To  brave  the  turgid  billow.     Near  the  fhore 
.She  now  is  prefent  in  her  pinnace  light. 
The  fpe&acle  of  glory  crowds  her  breaft 
With  diff ' rent  paffions.     Valiant,  fhe  applauds 
The  Grecian  valour ;  faithful,  (he  laments 
Her  fad  prsfage  of  Perfia ;  prompts  her  fon 
To  emulation  of  the  Greeks  in  arms, 
And  of  herfelf  in  loyalty.     By  fate 
Is  (he  referv'd  to  fignalize  that  day 
Of  future  fhame,  when  Xerxes  muft  behold. 
The  blood  of  nations  overflow  his  decks, 
And  to  their  bottom  tinge  the  briny  floods 
Of  Salamis  ;  whence  fhe  with  Afia  flies, 
She  only  not  inglorious.     Low  reclines 
Her  lover  now,  on  Hermus  to  repeat 
Her  name  no  more,  nor  tell  the  vocal  groves 
His  fruitlefs  forrows.     Next  Maduces  fell, 
A  Paphlagonian.     Born  amid  the  found 
Of  chafing  furges,  and  the  roar  of  winds, 
He  o'er  th'  inhofpitable  Euxine  foatri 
Was  wont  from  high  Carambis'  rock  to  ken 
Ill-fated  keels,  which  cut  the  Pontic  dream, 
Than  with  his  dire  affociates  through  the  deep 
For  fpoil  and  (laughter  guide  his  favage  prow. 
Him  dogs  will  rend  afhore.     From  Medus  far, 
Their  native  current,  two  bold  brothers  died, 
Sifamn.es  and  Tithrauftcs,  potent  lords 
Of  rich  domains.     On  thefe  Mithrines  gray, 
Cilician  prince,  Lilacs,  who  had  left 


The  balmy  fragrance  of  Arabia's  fields 
With  Babylonian  Tenagon  expir'd. 

The  growing  carnage  Hyperanthes  views 
ndignant,  fierce  in  vengeful  ardour  flrides 
Againd  the  vidlor.     Each  his  lance  protends; 
3ut  Afia's  numbers  interpofe  their  fliields, 
solicitous  to  guard  a  prince  rever'd : 
Or  thither  fortune  whelm'd  the  tide  of  war, 
:iis  term  protracting  for  augmented  fame. 
3o  two  proud  v  ffels,  lab'ring  on  the  foam, 
Prefent  for  battle  their  deftru&ive  beaks; 
When  ridgy  feas,  by  hurricanes  uptorn, 
n  mountainous  commotion  dafh  between, 
And  either  deck,  in  black'ning  tempefts  veil'd, 
Waft  from  its  diftant  foe.     More  fiercely  burn'd 
Thy  fpirit,  mighty  Spartan.     Such  difmay 
iel'ax'd  thy  foes,  that  each  Barbarian  heart 
R.efign'd  all  hopes  of  victory.     The  deeds 
Of  day  were  climbing  their  meridian  height. 
Jontinu'd  fhouts  of  onfet  from  the  pafs 
R.efounded  o'er  the  plain.     Artuchus  heard. 
When  firft  the  fpreading  tumult  had  alarm' d 
His  didant  quarter,  darting  from  repofe. 
He  down  the  valley  of  Spercheos  rum'd 
To  aid  his  regal  mailer.     Afia's  camp 
He  found  the  feat  of  terror  and  defpair. 
As  in  fome  fruitful  clime,  which  late  hath  known 
The   rage   of   winds   and    floods,   although  the 

dorm 

Be  heard  no  longer,  and  the  deluge  fled, 
StiH  o'er  the  wafted  region  nature  mourns 
(n  melancholy  filence  ;  through  the  grove 
With  proftrate  glories  lie  the  dately  oak, 
Th'.  uprooted  elm  and  beach  ;  the  plain  isfpread 
With  fragments,  fwept  from  villages  o'erthrown, 
Around  the  padures  nocks  and  herds  are  caft 
In  dreary  piles  of  death  :  fo  Perfia's  hod 
In  terror  mute  one  boundlefs  fcene  difplays 
Of  devadation.     Half-devour'd  by  fire, 
Her  tall  pavilions,  and  her  martial  cars 
Deform  the  wide  encampment.     Here  in  gore 
Her  princes  welter,  namelefs  thoufands  there, 
Not  victims  all  to  Greeks.     In  gafping  heaps 
Barbarians,  mangled  by  Barbarians,  fhow'd 
The  wild  confufion  of  that  direful  night ; 
When,  wanting  fignals.and  a  leader's  care, 
They  rufh'd  on  mutual  daughter.     Xerxes^  tent 
On  its  exalted  fummit,  when  the  dawn 
Fird  dreak'd  the  orient  fky,  was  wont  to  bear 
The  golden  form  of  Mithra,  clos'd  between 
Two  lucid  crydals.     This  the  gen'ral  hod 
Obferv'd,  their  awful  fignal  to  arrange 
In  arms  complete,  and  numberlefs  to  watch 
'i'iieir  monarch's  rifing.     This  confpicuous  blaze 
Artuchus  places  in  th'  accudom'd  feat. 
As,  after  winds  have  rufiled  by  a  dorm 
The  plumes  of  darknefs,  when  her  welcome  face 
The  mprning  lifts  ferene,  each  wary  fwain 
Collects  his  flock  difpers'd  ;  the  neighing  deed, 
The  herds  forfake  their  ft\elter  :  all  return 
To  well-known  padures,  and  frequented  dreams: 
So  now  this  cheering  Cgnal  on  the  tent 
Revives  each  leader.     From  inglorious  flight 
Their    fcatter'd    bands  they  call,' their  wonted 

ground 

Refumc,  and  hail  Artuchus.     From  their  fwarms 
A  force  he  culls.     Thermopylas  he  feeks. 
Fell  (boats  in  horrid  diffonaace  precede. 


JL  E  O  N  I  D  A  S. 


54* 


His  phalanx  fwift  Leonidas  commands 
To  circle  backward  from  the  Maliau  bay. 
Their  order  changes.    Now,  half-orb'd,  they  {land 
By  Oeta's  fence  protected  from  behind, 
"With  either  flank  united  to  the  rock. 
As  by  th'  excelling  architect  difpos'd 
To  fhield  fome  haven,  a  ftupendous  mole, 
Fram'd  of  the  grove  and  quarry's  mingled  ftrength, 
In  ocean's  bofom  penetrates  afar  : 
There,  pride  of  art,  immoveable  it  looks 
On  Eolus  and  Neptune  ;  there  defies 
Thofe  potent  gods  combin'd :  unyielding  thus, 
The  Grecians  ftood  a  folid  mafs  of  war 
Againft  Artuchus,  join'd  with  numbers  new 
To  Hyperanthes.     In  the  foremofl  rank 
JLeonidas  his  dreadful  flation  held. 
Around  him  foon  a  fpacious  void  was  feen 
By  flight,  or  {laughter  in  the  Pcrfian  van. 
In  gen'rous  fhame  and  wrath  Artuchus  burns, 
Discharging  full  at  Lacedemon's  chief 
An  iron-ftudded  mace.     It  glauc'd  afidc, 
Tum'd  by  the  mafiy  buckler.     Prone  to  earth 
The  latrap  fell.     Alcander  aim'd  his  point, 
Which  had  transfix'd  him  proftrate  on  the  rock, 
But  for  th'  immediate  fuccour,  he  obtain'd 
From  faithful  foldiers,  lifting  on  their  fhields 
A  chief  belov'd.     Not  fuch  AlcanJer's  lot. 
An  arrow  wounds  his  heart.     Supine  he  lies, 
The  only  Theban.  who  to  Greece  preferv'd 
Unviolated  faith.     Phyfician  fuge, 
On  pure  Cithseron  healing  herbs  to  cull 
Was  he  accuftom'd,  to  expatiate  o'er 
The  Heliconian  pafiures,  where  no  plants 
Of  poifon  fpring,  of  juice  faluhrious  all, 
Which  vipers,  winding  in  their  verdant  track, 
Drink  and  expel  the  venom  from  their  tooth, 
Dipt  in  the  fweetnefs  of  that  foil  divine. 
On  him  the  brave  Artontes  finks  in  d;>ath, 
Renown'd  through  wide  Bithynia,  ne'er  again 
The  clam'ious  rites  of  Cybcle  to  fhare  ; 
While  echo  murmurs  through  the  hollow  caves 
Of  Berecynthian  Dindymus.     The  ftrength 
Of  Alpheus  fent  him  to  the  {hades  of  night. 
Ere  from  the  dead  was  difengag'd  the  ipear, 
Huge  Abradates,  glorying  in  his  might, 
Surpaffing  all  of  Cifiian  race.advanc'd 
To  grapple ;  planting  firm  his  foremoft  flep, 
The  victor's  throat  he  grafp'd.  At  Nemea's  games 
The  wreftler's  chaplet  Alpheus  had  obtain'd. 
He  fummons  all  his  art.     Oblique  the  ftroke 
Of  his  fwift  foot  fnpplants  the  Perfian's  heel. 
He,  failing,  clings  by  Alpheus'  neck,  and  drags 
His  foe  upon  him.     In  the  Spartan's  back 
Enrag'd  Barbarians  fix  their  thronging  fpears. 
To  Abradates'  cheft  the  weapons  pafs; 
They  rivet  both  in  death.     This  Maron  fees, 
This  Polydorus,  frowning.     Victims,  ftrewn 
Before  their  vengeance,  hide  their  brother's  corfe. 
At  length  the  gcn'rous  blood  of  Maron  warms 
The  fword  of  Hyperanthes.     On  the  fpear 
Of  Polydorus  falls  the  pond'rous  as 
Of  Sacian  Mardus.     From  the  yielding  wood 
The  fteely  point  is  fever'd.     Undifmay'd, 
The  Spartan  (loops  to  rear  the  knotted  mace, 
1  .eft  by  Artuchus  ;  but  thy  fatal  blade, 
Abrocomes,  that  dreadful  inftant  watch'd 
To  rend  his  op'ning  fide.     Unconquer'd  ft  ill, 
Swift  he  difeharges  on  the  Sacian'*  front 


A  pood'rous  blow,  which  burlt  the  fcatter'd  braie. 
Down  his  own  limbs  meantime  a  torrent  Hows 
Ot'  vital  crimfon.     Smiling,  he  reflects 
On  furrow  finifti'd,  on  his  Spartan  name, 
Renew'd  in  luftre.     Sudden  to  his  fide 
Springs  Dithyrambus.     Through  th'  uplifted  arm 
Of  Mindus,  pointing  a  malignant  dart 
Againft  the  dying  Spartan,  he  impeli'd 
His  fpear.     The  point  with  violence  unfpeut, 
Urg'd  by  fuch  vigour,  reach'd  the  Perfian's  throaty 
Above  his  corlelet.     Polydorus  itrctch'd 
His  languid  hand  to  Thefpia's  friendly  youth, 
Then  bow'd  his  head  in  everlafting  peace. 
While  Mindus,  wafted  by  his  dreaming  wound, 
Befidc  him  faints  and  dies.     In  flow'ring  prime 
He,  lord  of  Colchis,  from  a  bride  was  torn 
His  tyrant's  hafty  mandate  to  obey. 
Slje  tow'rd  the  Euxine  fends  her  plaintive  fighs ; 
She  woos  in  tender  piety  the  winds : 
Vain  is  their  favour ;  they  can  never  breathe 
On  his  returning  fail.     At  once  a  crowd 
Of  eager  Perfians  feize  the  victor's  fpear. 
One  of  his  nervous  hands  retains  it  faft. 
The  other  bares  his  falchion.     Wounds  and  death 
He  fcatters  round.     Sofarraes  feels  his  arm 
Lopt  from  the  fliouldcr.     Zatis  leaves  entwin'd 
His  fingers  round  the  long-difputed  lance. 
On  Mardon's  reins  dofceDdsthe  pond'rous  blade, 
Which  half  divides  his  body.     Pheron  ftrides 
Acrofs  the  pointed  afh.     His  weight  o'ercomes 
The  weary'd  Thefpian,  who  refigns  his  hold ; 
But  cleaves  th'  elate  barbarian  to  the  brain. 
\brocomes  darts  forward,  fhakc-s  his  fteel, 
Whofe   lightning  threatens  death.      The  wary- 
Greek 

Wards  with  his  fvvprd  the  well-directed  ftroke, 
Then,  clofing,  throws  the  PerGan.     Now  what 

aid 

Of  mortal  force,  or  intcrpofing  heav'n 
Preferves  the  eaftern  hero  .'     Lo !  the  friend 
Of  f  eribazus.     Eager  to  avenge 
That  lov'd.  that  loft  companion,  and  defend 
A  brother's  life,  beneath  the  finewy  arm, 
Outftretch'd,  the  fword  of  Hyperanthes  pafs'd. 
Through  Dithyrambus.     All  the  firings  of  life 
At  once  relax  ;  nor  fame,  nor  Greece  demand 
More  from  his  valour.     Proftrate  now  he  lies 
In  glories,  ripen'd  on  his  bloommj  head. 
Him  (hall  the  Thefpian  maider^  in  their  fongs 
Record  once  loveiieir  of  the  youthful  train, 
The  gentle,  wife,  beneficent  an.l  brave, 
Grace  of  his  lineage,  and  his  country's  boait, 
Now  fall'n.     Elyfium  to  his  parting  foul 
Unclofes.     So  the  cedar,  which  fupreme 
Among  the  groves  of  Libanus  hath  tovv'r'd, 
Uprooted,  low'rs  his  graceful  top,  preferred 
for  dignity  of  growth  iome  royal  dome, 
Or  heav'n  devoted  fabric  to  atbrn. 
Diomeden  burfts  forward.     Round  his  friend 
He  heaps  de(tru<ftion.     Troops  of  wailing  ghofte 
Attend  thy  fhade,  fall'n  hero  '.     Long  prevail'd 
His  furious  arm  in  vengeance  uncontroul'd ; 
Till  four  Aflyrians  on  his  (helving  fpear, 
Ere  from  a  Ciflian's  proftratc  body  freed, 
Their  pond'ious  maces  all  difcharge.     It  broke. 
Still  with  a  (hatter'd  truncheon  he  maintain* 
Unequal  fight.     Impetuous  through  his  eye 


THE  WORKS   OF  GLOVER. 


The  well  aimM  fragment  penetrates  the  brain 
Of  one  bold  warrior  ;  there  the  fplinter'd  wood, 
In6x'd,  remains.     The  hero  lart  unlheaths 
His  falchion  broad.     A  fecond  fees  aghaft 
His  entrails  open'd.     Sever'd  from  a  third, 
The  head,  fteel  cas'd  defcends.  In  blood  is  roll'd 
The  grizly  beard.     That  effort  breaks  the  blade 
Short  from  its  hilt.   The  Grecian  (lands  difarm'd. 
The  fourth,  Aftafpes,  proud  Chaldean  lord, 
Is  nigh.     He  lifts  his  iron-plated  mace. 
This,  while  a  clufter  of  auxiliar  friends 
Hang  on  the  Grecian  fljield.  to  earth  deprefs'd, 
Loads  with  unerring  blows  the  batter'd  helm ; 
Till  on  the  ground  Diomedon  extends 
His  mighty  limbs.     So  waken'd  by  the  force 
Of  fome  tremendous  engine,  which  the  hand 
Of  Mars  impels,  a  citadel,  high-tow'r'd, 
Whence  darts,  and  fire,  and  ruins,  long  have  aw'd 
Begirding  legions,  yields  at  laft,  and  fpreads 
Its  difunitiug  ramparts  on  the  ground ; 
Joy  fills  th*  aflailants,  and  the  battle's  tide    [thus 
Whelms  o'er  the  widening  breach :  the  Perfian 
O'er  the  late-fear'd  Diomedon  advanc'd 
Againft  the  Grecian  remnant :  when  behold 
Leonidas.    At  once  their  ardour  froze. 
He  had  a  while  behind  his  friends  retir'd, 
Opprefs'd  by  labour.     Pointlefs  was  his  fpear, 
His  buckler  cleft.     As,  overworn  by  Itorms, 
A  veflel  fleers  to  fome  protecting  bay  ; 
Then,  feon  as  timely  gales  inviting,  curl 
The  azure  floods,  to  Neptune  (hows  again 
Her  mails  apparell'd  frefti  in  flirowds  and  fails, 
Which  court  the  vig'rous  wind :  So  Sparta's  king, 
In  ftrength  repair'd,  a  fpear  and  buckler  new 
Prefents  to  Afia.     From  her  bleeding  ranks 
Hydarnes,  urg'd  by  deftiny,  approach'd. 
He,  proudly  vaunting,  left  an  infant  race, 
A  fpoufe  lamenting  on  the  diftant  verge 
Of  Bactrian  Ochus.     Victory  in  vain 
He,  parting  prorais'd.    Wanton  hope  will  fport 
Round  his  cold  heart  no  longer.     Grecian  fpoils, 
Imagin'd  triumphs,  pictur'd  on  his  mind, 
Fate  will  erafe  for  ever.     Through  the  targe, 
The  thick-mail'd  corfelet  his  divided  cheft 
Of  bonny  ftrength  admits  the  hofHle  fpear. 
Leonidas  draws  back  the  fteely  point, 
Bent  and  enfeebled  by  the  forceful  blow. 
Meantime  within  his  buckler's  rim  unfeen, 
Amphifteus  dealing,  in  th'  unguarded  flank 
His  dagger  ftruck.     In  flow  effufion  ooz'd 
The  blood,  from  Hercules  deriv'd ;  but  death 
Not  yet  had  reach'd  his  mark.    Th'  indignant 

king 

Gripes  irrefiftibly  the  Perfian's  throat. 
He  drags  him  proftrate.    Falfe,  corrupt,  and  bafe, 
Fallacious,  fell,  pre-eminent  was  he 
Among  tyrannic  fatraps.     Phrygia  pin'd 
Beneath  th*  oppreflion  of  his  ruthlefs  fway. 
Her  foil  had  once  been  fruitful.     Once  her  towns 
Were  populous  and  rich.     The  direful  change 
To  naked  fields  and  crumbling  roofs  declar'd 
Th'  accurs'd  Amphiftreus  govern'd.     As  the  fpear 
Of  Tyrian  Cadmus  rivetted  to  earth 
The  pois'nous  dragon,  whofe  infectious  breath 
Had  blafted  all  Boeotia;  fo  the  king, 
On  prone  Amphiftreus  trampling,  to  the  rock 
Nails  down  the  tyrant,  u.nd  the  fraftur'd  ftuft" 


Leaves  in  his  panting  botly.     But  the  bloorf. 
Great  hero,  dropping  from  thy  wound,  revives 
The  hopes  of  Perfia.     Thy  unyielding  arm 
Upholds  the  conflict  ftill.     Againft  thy  fliield 
The  various  weapons  ftiiver,  and  thy  feet 
With  glitt'ring  points   furround.     The   Lydian 

fword, 

The  Perfian  dagger  leave  their  ftiatter'd  hilts; 
Bent  is  the  Cafpian  fcimitar  :  the  lance, 
The  javelin,  dart,  and  arrow  all  combine 
Their  fruirlefs  efforts.     From  Alcides  fprung, 
Thou  ftand'ft  unfbaken  like  a  Thracian  hill, 
Like  Rhodope,  or  Hsemus ;  where  in  vain 
The  thund'rer  plants  his  livid  bolt ;  in  vain 
Keen-pointed  lightnings  pierce  th'  incrufted  fnow; 
And  winter,  beating  with  eternal  war, 
Shakes  from  his  dreary  wings  difcordant  ftorms, 
Chill  fleet,  and  clatt'iing  hail.    Advancing  bold, 
His  rapid  lance  Abrocomes  in  vain 
Aims  at  the  forehead  of  Laconia's  chief. 
He,  not  unguarded,  rears  his  active  blade 
Athwart  the  dang'rous  blow,  whofe  fury  wades 
Above  his  creft  in  air.     Then  fwiftly  wheel'd, 
The  pond'rous  weapon  cleaves  the"  Perfian 's  knee 
Sheer  through  the   parted  bone.      He  fidelong 

falls. 

Crufli'd  on  the  ground  beneath  contending  feet, 
Great  Xerxes'  brother  yields  the  laft  remains 
Of  tortur'd  life.     Leonidas  perfifts ; 
Till  Agis  calls  Dieneces,  alarms 
Demophilus,  Megiftias :  they  o'er  piles 
Of  Allarodian  and  Safperian  dtad 
Hade  to  their  leader :  They  before  him  raife 
The  brazen  bulwark  of  their  maffy  Ihields. 
The  foremofl  rank  of  Afia  ftands  and  bleeds; 
The  reft  recoil :  but  Hyperanthes  fwift 
From  band  to  band  his  various  hoft  pervades, 
Their  drooping  hopes  rekindles,  in  the  brave 
New  fortitude  excites :  the  frigid  heart 
Of  fear  he  warms.     Aftafpes  firft  obeys, 
Vain  of  his  birth,  from  ancient  Belus  drawn. 
Proud  of  his  wealthy  ftores,  his  ftately  domes, 
More  proud  in  recent  victory  :  his  might 
Had  foil'd  Platfea's  chief.     Before  the  front 
He  ftrides  impetuous.     His  triumphant  mace 
Againft  the  brave  Dieneces  he  bends. 
The  weighty  blow  bears  down  th*  oppofing  fliield, 
And  breaks  the  Spartan's  flioulder.     Idle  hangs 
The  weak  defence,  and  loads  th*  inactive  arm, 
Depriv'd  of  ev'ry  function.     Agis  bares 
His  vengeful  blade.    At  two  well  levell'd  ftrokes 
Of  both  his  hands,  high  brandilhing  the  mace, 
He  mutilates  the  foe.     A  Sacian  chief 
Springs  on  the  victor.     Jaxartes'  banks 
To  this  brave  favage  gave  his  name  and  birth. 
His  look  erect,  his  bold  deportment  fpoke 
A  gallant  fpirit,  but  untam'd  by  laws, 
With  dreary  wilds  familiar,  and  a  race 
Of  rude  barbarians,  horrid,  as  their  clime. 
From  its  direction  glanc'd  the  Spartan  fpear. 
Which,  upward  borne,  o'erturn'd  his  iron  cone. 
Black  o'er  his  forehead  fall  the  naked  locks ; 
They  aggravate  his  fury  :  while  his  foe 
Repeats  the  ftroke,  and  penetrates  his  cheft. 
Th'  intrepid  Saciari  through  his  breaft  and  back 
Receives  the  girding  fteel.     Along  the  ftaff 
He  writ.hes  his  tortur'd  body ;  in  his  grafp 


LEONIDAS. 


543 


A  barbed  arrow  from  his  quiver  fhakes ; 
Deep  in  the  ftreaming  throat  of  Agis  hides 
The  deadly  point ;  then  grimly  fmiles  and  dies. 

From  him  fate  haftens  to  a  nobler  prey, 
Dieneces.     His  undefended  frame 
The  fliield  abandons,  Hiding  from  his  arm. 
His  breaft  is  gor'd  by  javelins.     On  the  foe 
Ke  hurls  them  back,  extracted  from  his  wounds. 
Life,  yielding  flow  to  deftiny,  at  length 
Forfakes  his  riven  heart ;  nor  lefs  in  death 
Thermopylae  he  graces,  than  before 
By  martial  deeds  and  conduct.     What  can  ftem 
The  barb'rous  torrent  ?     Agis  bleeds.     His  fpear 
Lies  ufelefs,  irrecoverably  plnng'd 
In  Jaxares'  body.     Low  reclines 
Dieneces.     Leonidas  himfelf, 
O'erlabour'd,  wounded  with  his  dinted  fword 
The  rage  of  war  can  exercife  no  more. 
One  laft,  one  glorious  effort  age  performs. 
Demsphilus,  Megiftias  join  their  might. 
They  check  the  tide  of  conqueft ;  while  the  fpear 
Of  flain  Dieneces  to  Sparta's  chief 
The  fainting  Agis  bears.     The  pointed  afh, 
In  that  dire  hand  for  battle  rear'd  anew, 
Blafts  ev'ry  Perfian's  valour.     Back  in  heaps 
They  roll  confounded,  by  their  gen'ral's  voice 
In  vain  exhorted  longer  to  endure 
The  ceafelefs  wafte  of  that  unconquer'd  arm. 
So,  when  the  giants  from  Olympus  chas'd 
Th*  inferior  gods,  themfelves  in  terror  flmnn'd 
Th' incefiant  ftreamsjof  lightning,  where  the  hand 
Of  heav'n's  great  father  with  eternal  might 
Suftain'd  the  dreadful  conflict.     O'er  the  field 
A  while  Bellona  gives  the  battle  reft  ; 
When  Thefpia's  leader  and  Megiftias  drop 
At  either  fide  of  Lacedemon's  king. 
Beneath  the  weight  of  years  and  labour  bend 
The  hoary  warriors.     Not  a  groan  molefts 
Their  parting  fpirits ;  but  in  death's  calm  night 
All  filent  finks  each  venerable  head  : 
Like  aged  oaks,  whole  deep-defcending, roots 
Had  pierc'd  refiftlefs  through  a  craggy  flope ; 
There  during  three  long  centuries  have  brav'd 
Malignant  Earns,  and  the  boifterous  north  ; 
Till  bare  and  faplefs  by  corroding  time 
Without  a  blaft  their  mofly  trunks  recline 
Before  their  parent  hill.     Not  one  remains. 
But  Agis,  near  Leonidas,  whofe  hand 
The  laft  kind  office  to  his  friend  performs, 
Extracts  the  Sacian's  arrow.     Life,  releas'd, 
Pours  forth  in  crimfon  floods.     O  Agis,  pale 
Thy  placid  features,  rigid  are  thy  limbs ;       [veal 
They  lofe  their  graces.    Dimm'd,  thy  eyes  re- 
The  native  goodnefs  of  thy  heart  no  more. 
Yet  other  graces  fpring.     The  noble  corfe 
Leonidas  furveys.     A  paufe  he  finds 
To  dark,  how  lovely  are  the  patriot's  wounds. 


And  fee  thofe  honours  on  the  breaft  he  lo'vd 
But  Hyperanthes  from  the  trembling  ranks 
Of  Afia  tow'rs,  inflexibly  refolv'd 
The  Perfian  glory  to  redeem,  or  fall. 
The  Spartan,  worn  by  toil,  his  languid  arm 
Uplifts  once  more.  He  waits  the  dauntlefs  prince. 
The  heroes  ftand  adverfe.     Each  a  while 
Reftrains  his  valour.     Each,  admiring,  view 
His  godlike  foe.  At  length  their  brandifli'd  points 
Provoke  the  conteft,  fated  foon  to  clofe 
The  long-continu'd  horrors  of  the  day. 
Fix'd  in  amaze  and  fear,  the  Afian  throng, 
Unmov'd  and  filent  on  their  bucklers  paule. 
Thus  on  the  waftes  of  India,  while  the  earth 
Beneath  him  groans,  the  elephant  is  feen, 
His  huge  probofcis  writhing,  to  defy 
The  ftrong  rhinoceros,  whofe  pond'rous  horn 
Is  newly  whetted  on  a  rock.     Anon 
Each  hideous  bulk  encounters.     Earth  her  groan 
Redoubles.    Trembling,  from  their  covert  gaze 
The  favage  inmates  of  furronnding  woods 
In  diftant  terror.     By  the  vary'd  art 
Of  either  chief  the  dubious  combat  long 
Its  great  event  retarded.     Now  his  lance 
Far  through  the  hoftile  fliield  Laconia's  king 
Impell'd.     Afide  the  Perfian  fwung  his  arm. 
Beneath  it  pafs'd  the  weapon,  which  his  targe 
Encumber'd.     Hopes  of  conqueft  and  renown 
Elate  his  courage.     Sudden  he  directs 
His  rapid  javelin  to  the  Spartan's  throat. 
But  he  his  wary  buckler  upward  rais'd, 
Which  o'er  his  flioulder  turn'd  the  glancing  fteel; 
For  one  laft  effort  then  his  fcatter'd  ftrength 
Collecting,  levell'd  with  refiftlefs  force 
The  maffive  orb,  and  dafh'd  its  brazen  verge 
Full  on  the  Perfian's  forehead.     Down  he  funk, 
Without  a  groan  expiring,  as  o'erwhelm'd 
Beneath  a  marble  fragment,  from  his  feat 
Heav'd  by  a  whirlwind,  fweeping  o'er  the  ridge 
Of  fome  afpiring  manfion.     Gen'rous  prince  ! 
What  could  his  valour  more  ?     His  fingle  might 
He  match'd  with  great  Leonidas,  and  fell 
Before  his  native  bands.     The  Spartan  king 
Now  (lands  alone.  In  heaps  his  flaughter'd  friends, 
All  ftretch'd  around  him  lie.     The  diftant  foes 
Show'r  on  his  head  innumerable  darts. 
From  various  lluices  gufa  the  vital  floods; 
They  ftain  his  fainting  limbs      Nor  yet  with  pain 
His  brow  is  clouded  ;  but  thofe  beauteous  wounds, 
The  facred  pledges  of  his  own  renown, 
And  Sparta's  fafety,  in  fereneft  joy 
His  clofing  eye  contemplates.     Fame  can  twine 
No  brighter  laurels  round  his  glorious  head; 
His  virtue  more  to  labour  fate  forbids, 
And  lays  him  now  in  honourable  reft 
To  (eal  his  country's  liberty  by  death. 


THE  WORKS   OF   GLOVBR. 


MISCELLANIES. 


POEM  ON  SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON. 

To  Newtqn's  genius  and  immortal  fame, 
Th'  advent'rous  mufe  with  trembling  pinions foars. 
Thou.heav'nly  truth,  from  thy  feraphic  throne 
l,ook  favourable  down,  do  thou  affift 
My  lab'ring  thonght.  do  thou  infpire  my  fong. 
Newton,  who  firft  th'  Almighty's  works  difplay'd, 
And  fmooth'd  that  mirror,  in  whofe  polifli'd  face 
The  great  Creator  now  confpicuous  fhines; 
Who  open'd  nature's  rJamantine  gates, 
And  to  our  minds  her  fecret  powers  expos'd ; 
Newton  demands  the  mnfe  ;  his  facred  hand 
Shall  guide  her  infant  (reps;   his  facrrd  hand 
Shall  raiie  her  to  the  Heliconian  height, 
Where,  on  its  lofty  top  enthron'd,  her  head 
Shall  mingle  with  the  ftars.     Hail  nature,  hail, 
O  goddefs,  handmaid  of  th'  ethereal  power, 
Now  lift  thy  head,  and  to  th'  admiring  world 
Show  thy  long  hidden  beauty.     Thee  the  wife 
Of  ancient  fame,  immortal  Plato's  felt", 
The  Stagyrite,  and  Syracufian  Cage, 
From  black  obfcurity's  ab\fs  to  raiie, 
(Drooping  and  mourning  o'er  thy  wondrous  works) 
With  vain  inquiry  fought,     tike  meteors  thefe 
In  their  dark  age  bright  fons  of  wifdom  flione  : 
But  at  thy  Newton  all  their  laurels  fade, 
They  Ihr ink  from  all  the  honours  of  their  names. 
So  glimm'ring  ftars  contract  their  feeble  rays, 
When  the  fwift  luftre  of  Aurora's  face 
Flows  o'er  the  Ikies,  and  wraps  the  heav'ns  in 

light. 

The  Deity's  omnipotence,  the  caufe, 
Th'  original  of  things  long  lay  unknown. 
'  Alone  the  beauties  prominent  to  fight 
(Of  the  celeitial  power  the  outward  form) 
Drew  praife  and  wonder  from  the  gazing  world. 
As  when  the  deluge  ovetfpread  the  earth, 
Whilft  yet  the  mountains  only  rear'd  their  heads 
Above  th'e  furface  of  the  wild  expanle, 
Whelm'd  deep  below  the  great  foundations  lay, 
Till  fome  kind  angel  at  heav'n's  high  command 
Roll'd  back  the  rifing  tides,  and  haughty  floods, 
And  to  the  ocean  thunder'd  out  his  voice  : 
CKiick  all  the  fwelling  and  imperious  wave?, 
The  foaming  billows  and  obfcuring  furge, 
Back  to  their  channels  and  their  ancient  feats 
Recoil  affrighted  :  from  the  darkfome  main 
Earth  raifes  fmiling,  as  new-born,  her  head, 
And  with  frefh  charms  her  lovely  face  arrays. 
So  his  extenfive  thought  accomplifh'd  firft 
The  mighty  talk  to  drive  th'  obftruiiling  mifts 
Of  ignorance  away,  beneath  whofe  gloom 
Th'  unfhrouded  majefty  of  nature  lay. 
He  drew  Jhe  veil  and  twell'u  the  fpreading  fcene 


low  had  the  moon  around  th'  ethereal  void 
<.ang'd,  and  eluded  lab'ring  mortals  care, 
!"ill  his  invention  trac'd  her  fecret  fteps, 
>Vhile  flie  inconftant  with  unfteady  rein 
Through  endlefs  mazes  and  meanders  guides 
n  its  unequal  courfe  her  changing  car: 
Whether  behind  the  fun's  ftiperior  light 
She  hides  the  beauties  of  her  radiant  face, 
[)r,  \vhen  confpicuous,  fmiles  upon  mankind1, 
Jnveiling  all  her  night-rejoicing  charms. 
When  thus  the  filver-trefled  moon  difpels 
The  frowning  horrors  from  the  brow  of  night, 
And  with  her  fplendours  cheers  the  fallen  gloom, 
While  fable-mantled  darknefs  with  his  veil 
The  vifage  of  the  fair  horizon  fhades, 
And  over  nature  fpreads  his  raven  wings ; 
Let  me  upon  fome  unfrequented  green 
While  deep  fits  heavy  on  the  drowfy  world, 
Seek  out  fome  folitary  peaceful  cell, 
Where  darkfome  woods  around  their  gloomy  brows 
Bow  low,  and  ev'ry  hill's  protended  (hade 
Obfcures  the  dufky  vale,  there  lilent  dwell, 
Where  contemplation  holds  its  ftill  abode, 
There  trace  the  wide  and  pathlefs  void  of  heav'n, 
And  count  the  ftars  that  fparkle  on  its  robe. 
Or  elfe  in  fancy's  wild'ring  mazes  loft 
Upon  the  verdure  fee  the  fairy  elves 
Dance  o'er  their  magic  circles,  or  behold, 
In  thought  enraptur'd  with  the  ancient  bards, 
Medea's  baleful  incantations  draw 
Down  from  her  orb  the  paly  queen  of  night. 
But  chiefly  Newton  let  me  foar  with  thee, 
And  while  furveying  all  yon  ftarry  vault 
With  admiration  I  attentive  gaze, 
Thou  (halt  defcend  from  thy  celaftial  feat, 
And  waft  aloft  my  high-afpiring  mind, 
Shaft  lliow  me  there  how  nature  has  ordain'd 
Her  fundamental  laws,  (halt  lead  my  thought 
Through  all  the  wand'rings  of  th'  uncertain  moon. 
Arid  teach  me  all  her  operating  powers. 
She  and  the  fun  with  influence  conjoint 
Wield  the  huge  axle  of  the  whirling  earth, 
And  from  their  juft  direction  turn  the  poles, 
Slow  urging  on  the  progrefs  of  the  years. 
The  constellations  feem  to  leave  their  feats, 
And  o'er  the  fkies  with  folemn  pace  to  move. 
You,  fplendid  rulers  of  the  day  and  night, 
The  feasobey,  at  your  refiftlefs  fway 
Now  they  contract  their  waters,  and  expofe 
The  dreary  defert  of  old  ocean's  reign. 
The  craggy  rocks  their  horrid  fides  difclofe  ; 
Trembling  the  failor  views  the  dreadful  fcene, 
And  cautiouily  the  threat'ning  ruin  fhuns. 
But  where  the  fliallow  waters  hide  the  fand»s 
There  ravenous  deftruclion  lurks  conceal'd, 


MISCELLANIES. 


545 


There  the  ill-guided  veflel  falls  a  prey, 
And  all  her  numbers  gorge  his  greedy  jaws. 
But  quick  returning  lee  th'  impetuous  tides 
Back  to  th'  abandon'd  fliores  impell  the  main. 
Again  the  foaming  feas  extend  their  waves, 
Again  the  rolling  floods  embrace  the  fliores, 
And  veil  the  horrors  of  the  empty  deep. 
Thus  the  obfequious  feas  your  power  confefs, 
While  from  the  furface  healthful  vapours  rife, 
Plenteous  throughout  the  atmofphere  diffus'd, 
Or  to  fupply  the  mountain's  heads  with  fprings, 
Or  fill  the  hanging  clouds  with  needful  rains, 
That  friendly  itreams,  and  kind  refrefhing  Ihow'rs, 
May  gently  lave  the  fun-burnt  thirfty  plains, 
Or  to  replenifli  all  the  empty  air 
"With  wholefome  moifture  to  increafe  the  fruits 
Of  earth,  and  blefs  the  labours  of  mankind. 
O  Newton,  whither  flies  thy  mighty  foul, 
How  fball  the  feeble  mufe  purfue  through  all 
The  vaft  extent  of  thy  unbounded  thought, 
That  even  feeks  th'  unfeen  recefles  dark 
To  penetrate  of  Providence  immenfe. 
And  thou  the  great  Difpenfer  ef  the  world 
Propitious,  who  with  inspiration  taught'ft 
Our  greateft  bard  to  fend  thy  praifes  forth  ; 
Thou,  who  gav'ft  Newton  thought  j  who  fmil'dft 

ferene, 

When  to  its  bounds  he  ftretch'd  his  fwelling  foul ; 
"Who  ftill  benignant  ever  bleft  his  toil, 
And  deign'd  to  his  enlight'ned  mind  t'  appear 
Confefs'd  around  th'  interminated  world: 
To  me,  O  thy  divine  infulion  grant 
(O  thou  in  all  fo  infinitely  good) 
That  I  may  fing  thy  everlafting  works, 
Thy  unexhaufted  ftore  of  providence, 
In  thought  effulgent  and  refounding  verfe. 
O  could  I  fpread  the  wond'rous  theme  around, 
\Vhere  the  wind  cools  the  oriental  world, 
To  the  calm  breezes  of  the  Zephyr's  breath, 
To  where  the  frozen  hyperborean  blafts, 
To  where  th'  boiit'rous  tempeft-leading  fouth 
From  their  deep  hollow  caves  fend  forth  their 

ftorms. 

Thou  ftill  indulgent  Parent  of  mankind, 
left  humid  emanations  fliould  no  more 
Flow  from  the  ocean,  but  dillblve  away 
Through  the  long  feries  of  revolving  time  ; 
And  left  the  vital  principle  decay, 
By  which  the  air  fupplies  the  fprings  of  life  ; 
Thou  halt  the  fiery  vifag'4  comets  form'd 
With  vivifying  fpirits  all  replete, 
Which  they  abundant  breathe  about  the  void, 
Renewing  the  prolific  foul  of  things. 
!No  longer  now  on  thee  amaz'd  we  call, 
!No  longer  tremble  at  imagin'd  ills, 
When  comets  blaze  tremendous  from  on  high, 
Or  when  extending  wide  their  flaming  trains 
With  hideous  grafp  the  fkies  engirdle  round, 
And  fpread  the  terrors  of  their  burning  locks. 
For  thefe  through  orbits  in  the  lengthening  fpace 
Of  many  tedious  rolling  years  complete 
Around  the  fun  move  regularly  on  } 
And  with  the  planets  in  harmonious  orbs, 
And  myftic  periods  their  obeifance  pay 
To  him  majeftic  Ruler  of  the  fkies 
Upon  his  throne  of  circled  glory  fixt. 
He  or  fome  god  confpicuous  to  the  view, 
VOL.  XI. 


Or  elfe  the  fubftitute  of  nature  feems, 
Guiding  the  courfes  of  revolving  worlds. 
He  taught  great  Newton  the  all-potent  laws 
Of  gravitation,  by  whofe  fimple  power 
The  univerfe  exifts.     Nor  here  the  fage 
Big  with  invention  ftill  renevying  ftaid. 
But,  O  bright  angel  of  the  lamp  of  day, 
How  fliall  the  mufe  difplay  his  greateft  toil? 
Let  her  plunge  deep  in  Aganippe's  waves, 
Or  in  Caltalia's  ever-flowing  dream, 
That  reinfpired  (lie  may  fing  to  thee, 
How  Newton  dar'd  advent 'rous  to  unbraid 
The  yellow  trefles  of  thy  mining  hair. 
Or  did'ft  thou  gracious  leave  thy  radiant  fphere, 
And  to  his  hand  thy  lucid  fplendours  give, 
T'  unweave  thp  light-dirTuling  wreath,  and  part 
The  blended  glories  of  thy  golden  plumes? 
He  with  laborious,  and  unerring  care, 
Ho'w  difFrent  and  imbodied  colours  form 
Thy  piercing  light,  with  juft  diftinclion  found. 
He  with  quick  light  purfu'd  thy  darting  rays, 
When  penetrating  to  th'  obfcure  recefs 
Of  folid  matter,  there  perpifcuous  faw, 
How.  in  the  texture  of  each  body  lay 
The  power  that  Separates  the  difPrent  beams. 
Hence  over  nature's  unadorned  face 
Thy  bright  diverfitying  rays  dilate 
Their  various  hues  :   and  hence  when  vernal  rains 
Defcending  fwift  have  burft  the  low'ring  clouds, 
Thy  fplendours  through  the  difEpating  mifts 
In  its  fair  vetture  of  uniiumber'd  hues 
Array  the  fliow'ry  bow.     At  thy  approach 
The  morning  rifen  from  her  pearly  couch 
With  rofy  bluflies  decks  her  virgin  cheek ; 
The  ev'ning  on  the  frontifpiece  of  heav'n 
His  mantle  fpreads  with  many  colours  gay  ; 
The  mid-day  fkies  in  radiant  azure  clad, 
The  fliining  clouds,  and  filver  vapours  rob'd, 
In  white  tranfpareiu  iutermixt  with  gold, 
With  bright  variety  of  fplendour  clothe 
All  the  illuminated  face  above. 
When  hoary-headed  winter  back  retires. 
To  the  chill'd  pole,  there  folitary  (its 
Encompais'd  round  with  winds  and  tempefts  bleak, 
In  caverns  of  impenetrable  ice, 
And  from  behind  the  dillipated  gloom 
Like  a  new  Venus  from  the  parting  furge 
The  gay-apparell'd  fprrng  advances  on; 
When  thou  in  thy  meridian  brightnefs  fitt'ft, 
And  from  thy  throne  pure  emanations  flow 
Uf  glory  burfting  o'er  the  radiant  Ikies: 
Then  let  the  reufe  Olympus'  top  afcend, 
And  o'er  Thetialia's  plain  extend  her  view, 
And  count,  O  Tempo,  all  thy  beauties  o'er. 
Mountaiiis,wholefunimitsgrafpthependantclouds>) 
Between  their  wood-inveiop'd  flopes  embrace 
The  green-attired  vallies.     Every  flow'r 
Here  in  the  pride  of  bounteous  nature  clad 
Smiles  on  the  bofom  of  th'  enamell'd  meads. 
Over  the  fmiling  lawn  the  filver  floods 
Of  fair  Peneus  gently  roll  along, 
While  the  reflected  colours  from  the  flow'rs, 
And  verdant  borders  jjterce  the  limpid  waves, 
And  paint  with  all  their  variegated  hue 
The  yellow  fands  beneath.     Smooth  glidings 
The  waters  huften  to  the  neighbouring  fea. 
.Still  the  pleas'd  eye  the  floating  plain  nurfuei. 
Mm 


54* 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER. 


At  length,  in  Neptune's  wide  dominion  loft, 
Surveys  the  fliining  billows,  that  arife 
Apparell'd  each  in  Phoebus'  bright  attire : 
Or  from  afar  Come  tall  majeftic  (hip, 
Or  the  long  hoflile  lines  of  threat'tiing  fleets, 
Which  o'er  the  bright  uneven  mirror  fweep, 
In  dazzling  gold  and  waving  purple  deck'd  ; 
Such  as  of  old,  when  haughty  Athens  pour 
Their  hideous  front  and  terrible  array 
Againft  Pallene's  coafl  extended  wide, 
And  with  tremendous  war  and  battle  (tern 
The  trembling  walls  of  Potidseafiiook. 
Crefted  <vith  pendants  curlingwith  the  breeze 
The  upright  mafts  high  bridle  in  the  air, 
Aloft  exalting  proud  their  gilded  heads. 
The  filver  waves  againft  the  painted  prows 
Raife  their  refplendent  bofonis,  and  impearl 
The  fair  vermilion  with  their  glift'ring  drops  : 
And  from  on  board  the  iron-clothed  holt 
Around  the  main  a  gleaming  horror  cafts; 
Each  flaming  buckler  like  the  mid  day  fun, 
Each  plumed  helmet  like  the  filver  moon. 
Each  moving  gauntlet  like  the  lightning's  bhze, 
And  like  a  ftar  each  brazen  pointed  fpear. 
But,  lo  !  the  facred  high-erected  fane% 
Fair  citadels,  and  marble-crowned  towers, 
And  fumptuous  palaces  of  ftately  towns 
Magnificent  arife,  upon  their  heads 
Bearing  on  high  a  wreath  of  filver  light. 
But  fee  my  mufe  the  high  Pierian  hill, 
Behold  its  fliaggy  locks  and  airy  top, 
Up  to  the  fkies  th*  imperious  mountain  heaves  ; 
The  fhining  verdure  of  the  nodding  woods. 
See  where  the  filver  Hippocrene  flows, 
Behold  each  glitt'ring  rivulet  and  rill 
Through  mazes  wander  down  the  green  deferent, 
And  fparkle  through  the  interwoven  trees, 
Here  reft,  a  while  and  humble  homage  pay. 
Here,  where  the  facred  genius,  that  infpir'd, 
Sublime  Mteonides  and  Pindar's  brealt, 
His  habitation  once  was  fam'd  to  hold. 
Here  thou,  O  Homer,  offer'dft  up  thy  vows; 
Thee,  the  kind  mufe  Calliopsea  heard, 
And  led  thee  to  the  empyrean  feats, 
There  manifefted  to  thy  hallow'd  eyes 
The  deeds  of  gods  ;  thee  wife  Minerva  taught 
The  wondrous  art  of  knowing  human  kind  ; 
Harmonious  Phoebus  tun'd  thy  heav'nly  mind, 
And  fwell'd  to  rapture  each  exalted  fenfe  ; 
Even  Mars  the  dreadful  battle-ruling  god, 
Mars  taught  thee  war,  and  with  his  bloody  hand 
Inftructed  thine,  when  in  thy  founding  lines 
We  hear  the  rattling  of  Bellona's  car, 
The  yell  of  difcord,  and  the  din  of  arms. 
Pindar,  when  mounted  on  his  fiery  fteed, 
Soars  to  the  fun,  oppofing  eagle-like 
His  eyes  undazzled  to  the  fierceft  rays. 
He  firmly  feated,  not  like  Glaucus'  fon, 
Strides  his  fwift-winged  and  fire-breathing  horfe, 
And  borne  aloft  flrikes  with  his  ringing  hoofs 
The  brazen  vault  of  heav'n,  fuperior  there 
Looks  down  upon  the  ftars,  whofe  radiant  light 
Illuminates  innumerable  worlds, 
That  through  eternal  orbits  roll  beneath. 
But  thou  all  hail  immortalized  fon 
Of  harmony,  all  hail  thou  Thracian  bard, 
To,  whom  ApoHo  gave  his  tuneful  lyre  '. 


0  might*ft  thou,  Orpheus,  now  again  revive, 
And  Newton  ihould  inform  thy  lut'mng  ear 
How  the  foft  notes,  and  foul-inchanting  drains 
Of  thy  own  lyre  were  on  the  wind  convey'd. 

He  taught  the  mufe,  how  found  progreflive  floats 

Upon  the  waving  particles  of  air, 

vVhen  harmony  in  ever-pleafing  ftrains, 

Melodious  melting  at  each  lulling  fall. 

With  foft  alluring  penetration  fteals 

Through  the  enraptur'd  ear  to  inmofl  thought. 

And  folds  the  fcnfes  in  its  filken  bands. 

So  the  fweet  mufic,  which  from  Orpheus'  touch 

And  fam'd  Amphion's,  on  the  founding  firing 

Arofe  harmonious  gliding  on  the  air, 

Pierc'd  the  tough  bark'd  and  knotty-ribbed  woods. 

Into  their  faps  foft  infpiration  breath'd, 

And  taught  attention  to  the  ftubborn  oak. 

Thus  when  great  Henry,  and  brave  Marlb'rough 

led 

Th'  embattled  numbers  of  Britannia's  fons, 
The  trump,  that  fwells  th'  expanded  cheek  of 

fame, 

That  adds  new  vigour  to  the  gen'rous  youth, 
And  roufc's  fluggifh  cowardice  itfelf, 
The  trumpet  with  its  Mars-inciting  voice 
The  winds  broad  breaft  impetuous  fweeping  o'er 
Fill'd  the  big  note  of  war.     Th'  infpired  hoft 
With  new-born  ardour  prefs  the  trembling  Gaul; 
Nor  greater  throngs  had  reach'd  eternal  night, 
Not  if  the  fields  ot"  Agincourt  had  yawn'd 
Expofing  horrible  the  gulf  of  fate ; 
Or  roaring  Danube  fpread  his  arms  abroad, 
And  overwhelm'd  their  legions  with  his  floods. 
But  let  the  wand'ring  mufe.  at  length  return ; 
Nor  yet,  angelic  genius  of  the  fun, 
In  worthy  lays  her  high-attempting  fong 
Has  blazon'd  forth  thy  venerated  name. 
Then  let  her  fweep  the  loud-refounding  lyre 
Again,  again  o'er  each  melodious  ftnng 
Teach  harmony  to  tremble  with  thy  praife. 
And  dill  thine  ear,  O  favourable  grant, 
And  fhe  (hall  tell  thee,  that  whatever  charms, 
Whatever  beauties  bloom  on  nature's  face, 
Proceed  from  thy  all-inrltiencing  light. 
That  when  arifing  with  tempeltuous  rage, 
The  north  impetuous  rides  upon  the  clouds 
Difperfing  round  the  heav'ns  obftructive  glooffl, 
And  with  his  dreaded  prohibition  (lays 
The  kind  effufion  of  thy  genial  beams; 
Pale  are  the  rubies  on  Aurora's  lips. 
No  more  the  rofes  blufh  upon  her  cheeks, 
Black  Hre  Peneus'  ftreams  and  golden  fands 
In  Tempe's  vale  dull  melancholy  fits, 
And  every  flower  reclines  its  languid  head. 
By  what  high  name  (ball  I  invoke  thee,  fay, 
Thou  life-infufing  deity,  on  thee 

1  call,  and  look  propitious  from  on  high, 
While  now  to  thee  I  offer  up  my  prayer. 

O  had  great  Newton,  as  he  found  the  caufe, 

By  which  found  rolls  through  th*  undulating  air, 

0  had  he,  baffling  time's  refiftlefs  power, 

Difcover'd  what  that  fubtle  fpirit  is, 

Or  whatfoe'er  diffufive  elle  is  fpread 

Over  the  wide-extended  univerfe, 

Which  cautes  bodies  to  reflect  the  light. 

And  from  their  ftraight  direction  to  divert 

The  rapid  beams,  that  through  their  fuilacc  pierce. 


MISCELLANIES. 


547 


But  fince  embrac'd  by  th'  icy  arms  of  age, 
And  bis  quick  thought  by  time's  cold  hand  con 
ge  a  I'd, 

Ev'n  Newton  left  unknown  this  hidden  power ; 
Thou  from  the  race  of  human  kind  (elect 
Some  other  worthy  of  an  angel's  care, 
With  infpiration  animate  his  breaft, 
And  him  inftruct  in  thefe  thy  fecret  laws. 
O  let  not  Nexvton,  to  whofe  fpacious  view, 
Now  unobftructed,  all  th'  extenfive  fcenes 
Of  the  ethereal  ruler's  works  arife  ; 
When  he  beholds  this  earth  he  late  adorn'd, 
Let  him  not  fee  philofophy  in  tears, 
Like  a  fond  mother  fohtary  fit, 
Lamenting  him  her  dear,  and  only  child. 
But  as  the  wife  Pythagoras,  and  he, 
Whofe  birth  with  pride  the  fam'd  Abdera  boafts, 
With  expectation  having  long  furvey'd 
This  fpot  their  ancient  feat,  with  joy  beheld 
Divine  philofophy  at  length  appear 
In  all  her  charms  majeftically  fair, 
Conducted  by  immortal  Newton's  hand  : 
So  may  he  fee  another  fage  arife, 
That  (hall  maintain  her  empire  :  then  no  more 
Imperious  ignorance  with  haughty  fway 
Shall  ftalk  rapacious  o'er  the  ravag'd  globe  : 
Then  thou,  O  Newton,  flialt  protect  thefe  lines, 
The  humble  tribute  of  the  grateful  mule ; 
Ne'er  fliall  the  facrilegious  hand  defpoil 
Her  laurell'd  temples,  whom  his  name  preferves : 
And  were  (he  equal  to  the  mighty  theme, 
Futurity  (hould  wonder  at  her  fong; 
Time  (hould  receive  her  with  extended  arms, 
Seat  her  confpicuous  in  his  rolling  car, 
And  bear  her  down  to  his  extremeft  bound. 
Fables  with  wonder  tell  how  Terra's  fons 
With  iron  force  unloos'd  the  ftubborn  nerves 
Of  hills,  and  on  the  cloud-inflirouded  top 
Of  Pelion  OflTa  pil'd.     But  if  the  vaft 
Gigantic  deeds  of  favage  ftrength  demand 
Aftonifhtnent  from  men,  what  then  (halt  thou, 
O  what  expreffive  rapture  of  the  foul,    - 
When  thou  before  us,  Newton,  doft  difplay 
The  labours  of  thy  great  excelling  mind  ; 
When  thou  unveiled  all  the  wondrous  fcene, 
The  vaft  idea  of  th'  eternal  King, 
Not  dreadful  bearing  in  his  angry  arm 
The  thunder  hanging  o'er  our  trembling  heads ; 
But  with  th'  effuigency  of  love  replete, 
And  clad  with  power,  which  form'd  th'  extenfive 

heavens. 

O  happy  he,  whofe  enterprifing  hand 
Unbars  the  golden  and  relucid  gates 
Of  th'  empyrean  dome,  where  thou  cnthron'd 
Philofophy  art  feated.     Thou  fultain'd 
By  the  firm  hand  of  everlafting  truth 
Defpifeft  all  the  injuries  of  time  : 
Thou  never  know'lt  decay  when  all  around» 
Antiquity  obfcures  her  head.    Behold 
Th'  Egyptian  towers,  the  Babylonian  wall?, 
And  Thebes  with  all  her  hundred  gates  of  brafs, 
Behold  them  fcatter'd  like  the  duit  abroad. 
Whatever  now  is  flourishing  and  proud, 
Whatever  lliall,  mult  know  devouring  age. 
Euphrates'  ftream,  and  feven-muuthed  Nile, 
And  Danube,  thou  that  from  Germania's  foil 
TO  the  black  Euxine's  far  rcraoled  fljoie, 


O'er  the  wide  bounds  of  mighty  nations  fweep'ft 

In  thunder  loud  thy  rapid  floods  along. 

Ev'n  you  (hall  feel  inexorable  time  ; 

To  you  the  fatal  day  (hall  come  ;  no  more 

Your  torrents   then   (hall   (hake   the    trembling 

ground, 

No  longer  then  to  inundations  fwol'n 
Th'  imperious  waves  the  fertile  paflures  drench, 
But  flmmk  within  a  narrow  channel  glide  ; 
Or  through  the  year's  reiterated  courfe 
When  time  himfclf  grows  old,   your  tvond'rous 

ftreams 

Loft  ev'n  to  memory  fliall  lie  unknown 
Beneath  obfcurity,  and  chaos  whelm'd. 
But  (till  thou  fun  illuminateft  all 
The  azure  regions  round,  thou  guided  ftill 
The  orbits  of  the  planetary  fpheres  ; 
The  moon  ftill  wanders  o'er  her  changing  courfe, 
And  (till,  O  Newton,  (hall  thy  name  furvive 
As  long  as  natui  *  s  hand  directs  the  world. 
When  ev'ry  dark  obstruction  (hall  retire, 
And  ev'ry  fecret  yield  its  hidden  (lore, 
Which  thee  dim-fighted  age  forbade  to  fee, 
Age  that  alone  could  (lay  thy  riling  foul. 
And  could  mankind  among  the  fixed  (tars, 
E'en  to  th'  extremeft  bounds  of  knowledge  reach. 
To  thofe  unknown  innumerable  funs,         [worlds, 
Whofe    light   but   glimmers    from   thofe    diftant 
Ev'n  to  thofe  utmoft  boundaries,  thofe  bars 
That  (hut  the  entrance  of  th'  illumin'd  fpace 
Where  angels  only  tread  the  vaft  unknown, 
Thou  ever  fhould'ft  be  feen  immortal  there  : 
In  each  new  fphere,  each  new-appearing  fun, 
In  fartheft  regions  at  the  very  verge 
Of  the  wide  univerfe  (houl'dft  thou  be  feen. 
And  lo,  th*  all-potent  goddefs  nature  takes 
With  her  own  hand  thy  great,  thy  juft  reward 
Of  immortality  ;  aloft  in  air 
See  (he  difplays,  and  with  eternal  grafp 
Uprears  the  trophies  of  great  Newton's  fame. 

LONDON : 

OX,    THE  PROGRESS  OI   COMMERCE. 

YE  northern  blafls.and  (a)  Eurus,  wont  to  fweep 
With  rodeft  pinions  o'er  the  furrow'd  waves, 
A  while  i'ufpend  your  violence,  and  waft 
From  fandy(A)  Wefer  and  the  broad  mooth'd  Elbe 
My  freighted  veflels  to  the  deflin'd  fhore, 
Safe  o'er  th'  unruffled  main  ;  let  every  thought, 
Which  may  difqufet,  and  alarm  my  brealt, 
Be  abfent.uow  •,  that  difpofiefs'd  of  care, 
And  free  from  every  tumult  of  the  mind, 
With  each  difturbing  paflion  hufli'd  to  peace, 
I  may  pour  ail  my  fpirit  on  the  theme, 
Which  opens  now  before  me,  and  demands 
The  lofticil  ilrain.     The  eagle,  when  he  tow'ri 
.'Beyond  the  clouds,  the  fleecy  robes  of  heaven, 
Difdains  all  objects  but  the  golden  fun, 
Full  on  th'  effulgent  orb  directs  his  eye, 
And  fails  exulting  through  the  blaze  of  day  ; 
So,  while  her  wing  attempts  the  boldeft  flight, 
Rejecting  each  inferior  theme  of  praife, 
'Mice,  ornament  of  Europe,  Albion's  pride, 

(a)   The  eaj)  -wind. 

(L)  Bremen  isJituaicJ  en  ike  IVcftr,  and  Hamburgh 
in  tbi  E$r. 

M  m  ij 


54? 


THE   WORKS   OF  GLOVER. 


Fair  feat  of  wealth  and  freedom,  thee  my  mufe 
.Shall  celebrate,  O  London  :  thee  flic  hails. 
Thou  lov'd  abode  of  commerce,  laft  retreat, 
Whence  fhc  contemplates  with  a  tranquil  mind 
Her  various,  wanderings  from  the  fated  hour, 
That  fhe  abandon'd  her  maternal  clime; 
Neptunian  commerce,  whom  Phoenice  bore, 
Ilkiflrious  nymph,  that  nam'd  the  fertile  plains 
Along  the  founding  main  extended  far, 
Which  flowery  Carmel  with  its  fweet  perfumes, 
And  with  its  cedars  Libanus  o'erfhades : 
Her  from  the  bottom  of  the  wat'ry  world, 
As  once  fhe  ftood,  in  radiant  beauties  grac'd, 
To  mark  the  heaving  tide,  the  piercing  eye 
Of  Neptune  view'd  enamt>ur'd  :  from  the  deep 
The  god  afcending  rufhes  to  the  beach, 
And  clafps  the  affrighted  virgin.     Prom  that  day, 
Soon  as  the  paly  regent  of  the  night 
Nine  times  her  monthly  progrefs  had  renew'd 
Through  heaven's illumin'd  vau',.  Phoenice,  led 
By  fhame,once  more  the  fea-worn  margin  fought : 
There  pac'd  with  painful  fleps  the  barren  fands, 
A  folitary.  mourner,  and  the  furge, 
Which  -gently  roll'd  befide  her,  now  no  more 
"With  placid  eyes  beholding,  thus  exclaim'd  : 

Ye  fragrant  fhrubs  and  cedars,  lofty  fhade, 
Which  crown  my  native  hilk,  ye  fpreading  palms, 
That  rift  majeftic  on  thefe  fruitful  meads, 
With  you  who  gave  the  loft  Phoenice  birth, 
And  you,  who  bear  th'  endearing  name  of  friends, 
Once  faithful  partners  of  my  charter  hours, 
Farewell:  To  thee,  perfidious  god,  I  come, 
Bent  down  with  pain  and  anguifh  on  thy  fands, 
I  come  thy  fuppliant  :  death  'is  all  I  crave  ; 
•Bid  thy  devouring  waves  inwrap  my  head, 
And  to  the  bottom  whelm  my  cares  and  fhame  ! 

She  eeas'd,  when  fudden  from  th'  enclofing  deep 
A  cryftar  car  emerg'd,  -with  glitt'ring  fhells,  •'     •' 
Cull'd  from  their  oozy  beds  by  Tethys"  train, 
And  blufhing  coraldeck'd,  whofe  ruddy  glow 
Mix'd  with  the  -wat'ry  luftre  of  the  pearl. 
A  fmiling  band  of  fea-born  nymphs  attend, 
Who  from  the  fhore  with  gentle  hands  convey 
The  fear-fubdu'd  Phoenice,  and  along 
The  lucid  chariot  place.     As  there  with  dread 
All  mute,  and  fhrggling  with  her  painful  throes 
She  lay,  the  winds  by  Neptune's  high  command 
Were  filent  round  her;  not  a  zephyr  dar?d 
"Fo  wanton  o'er  the  cedar's  branching  top. 
Nor  on  the  plain  the  flately  palm  was  feen 
To  wave  its  graceful  verdure  ;  o'er  the  main 
No  undulation  broke  the  fmooth  expanfe, ' 
But  all  was  hr.fh'd  and  motionlefs  around, 
All  but  the  lightly-fliding  car,  impell'd 
Along  the  level  azure  by  the  ftrength 
Of  active  Tritons,  rivalling' in  fpeed 
The  rapid  meteor,  whofe- fulphureous  train 
Glides  o'er  the  brow  of  darknefs,  and  appears 
The  livid  ruins  of  a  falling  ftar.       • 

Beneath  the  Lybian  fkies,  a  blifsful  ifle, 
By  (c  )  Triton's  floods  encircled,  Nyfa  lay. 
Here  youthful  nature  wanton'd  in  delights, 
And-here-the  guardians  of  the  bounteous  .horn, 
While  it  was  now  the  infancy  of  time, 
Nor  yet'th'  uncultivated  globe  had  learn'd 


f  )   Trit»n}  a  river  and  lake  of  ancient  Lylia, 


To  fmile,  ( if)  Eucarpc,  (e)  Dapfilea  tfwelt, 
With  all  the  nymphs,  whofe  facred  care  had  nur&'i 
The  eldeft  Bacchus.     From  the  flow'ry  fliore 
A  turf-clad  valley  opens,  and  along 
Its  verdure  mild  the  willing  feet  allures  ; 
While  on  its  Hoping  fides  afcends  the  pride 
Of  hoary  groves,  high-arching  o'er  the  vale 
With  day-reje&ing  gloom.     The  f'olemn  {hade 
Half  round  a  fpacious  lawn  at  length  expands, 
(/)  Clos'd  by^a  tow'ring   cliff,    whole  forehead 

glows 

With  azure,  purple,  and  ten  thoufand  dyes, 
From  its  refplendent  fragments  beaming  round; 
Nor  lefs  irradiate  colours  from  beneath 
On  every  fide  an  ample  grot  reflects, 
As  down  the  perforated  rock  the  fun 
Pours  his  meridian  blaze  !  rever'd  abode 
Of  Nyfa's  nymphs,  with  every  plant  attir'd, 
That  wears  undying  green,  refrefn'd  with  rills 
From  ever-living  fountains,  and  enrich'd 
With  all  Pomona's  bloom  :  unfading  flowers 
Glow  on  the  mead,  and  fpicy  fhrubs  perfume 
With  unexhaufted  fweets  the  cooling  gale, 
Which  breathes  inceffant  there  ;  while  every  bird 
Of  tuneful  note  his  gay  or  plaintive  fong 
Blends  with  the  warble  of  meandring  ftreams, 
Which   o'er   their  pebbled  channels   murm'ring- 
The  fruit-invefted  hills,  that  rife  around.        [lave 
The  gentle  Nereids  to  this  calm  recefs 
Phoenice  bear ;  nor  Dapfilea  bland, 
Nor  good  Eucarpe,  ftudious  to  obey 
Great  Neptwne's  will,  their  hofpitable  care 
Refufe  ;  nor  long  Lucina  is  invok'd. 
Soon  as  the  wondrous  infant  fprung  to  day, 
Earth  rock'd  around;     with   all  their  nodding 

woods, 

And  ftreams  reverting  to  their  troubled  fource, 
The  mountain  {hook,  while  JLybia's  neighb'ritig' 

g°d, 

Myfterious  Ammon,  from  his  hollow  cell 
With  deep  refounding  accent  thus  to  heaven, 
To  earth,  and  fea,  the  mighty  birth  proclaim'd  : 
A  new-born  power  behold !  whom  fate  hath 
The  god's  imperfeil  labour  to  complete  •     [cali'd 
This  wide  creation.     She  in  lonely  fands 
Shall  bid  the  tower-encircled  city  rife, 
The  barren  fea  fhall  people,  and  the  wilds 
Of  dreary  nature  fliall  with  plenty  clothe; 
She  fhall  enlighten  man's  unletter'd  race, 
And  with  endearing  intercourfe  unite 
Remoteft  nations,  fc»rcb*'d  by  fultry  funs, 
Or  freezing  near  the  fnow-incrufted  pole  : 
Where'er  the  joyous  vine  difdains  to  grow, 
The  fruitful  olive,  or  the  golden  ear; 
Her  hand  divine,  with  intcrpofing  aid 
To  every  climate  fhall  the  gifts  fupply 
Of  Ceres,  Ea'cchus,  and  (o-)  the  Athenian  maid ; 
The  graces,  joys,  emoluments  of  life 
From  her  exhauftlcfs  bounty  all  fhall  flow. 

The  heavenly  prophet  ceas'd.  Olympus  heard. 
Straight  from  their  ftar-befpangled  thrones  def- 

fcend 

(J)  Frultfulnefs.  (<•)   Plenty. 

(f)  This  iuho!t  defcription  of  tie  rod  and  grotto 
is  taken  from  Diod.  Siculus,  lib.  .}.  pag.  2.O2. 

Cs)  fffinerva,  tie  tutelary  gtddefs  of  the  Athenians t 
to  ivboffijbe  gave  tht  olive. 


MI: 

Chi  'blooming  Nyfa  a  celeftial  band 

The  ocean's  lord  to  honour  in  his  child; 

When  o'er  his  offspring  fmiling  thus  began 

The  trident-ruler :     Commerce  be  thy  name  : 

To  thee  I  give  the  empire  of  the  main, 

From  where  the  morning  breathes  its  eaftern  gale, 

To  th'  undifcover'd  limits  of  the  weft, 

From  chilling  Boreas  to  extreme!!  fouth 

Thy  fire's  obfequious  billows  fhall  extend 

Thy  utiiverfal  reign.     Minerva  next 

With  wifdom  blefs'd  her,  Mercury  with  art, 

(A)  Tile  Lemnian  god  with  induftry,  and  laft 

Majeftic  Phoebus,  o'er  the  infant  long 

In  contemplation  paufing,  thus  declar'd 

From  his  enraptur'*!  lip  his  matchlcfs  boon : 

Thee  with  divine  invention  1  endow, 
That  fecret  wonder,  gbddefs,  to  difclofe, 
By  which  the  wife,  the  virtuous,  and  the  brave, 
The  heaven-taught  poet  and  exploring  fage 
Shall  pafs  recorded  to  the  verge  of  time. 

Her  years  of  childhood  now  were  number'd  o'er, 
When  to  her  mother's  natal  foil  repair'd 
The  new  divinity  whofe  parting  ftep 
Her  facred  nudes  follow'd,  ever  now 
To  her  alone  infeparably  join'd ; 
Then  firft  deferting  their  Nyfeian  fhore 
To  fpread  their  hoarded  bleffings  round  the  world; 
Who  with  them  bore  the  unexhuufted  horn 
Of  ever-fmiling  plenty      Thus  adorn'd, 
Attended  thus,  great  goddefs,  thou  began'ft 
Thy  all  enlivening  progrefs  o'er  the  globe, 
Then  rude  and  joylefs,  deftin'd  to  repair 
The  various  ills  which  earlieft  ages  ru'd 
From  one,  like  thee,  diftinguifh'd  by  the  gifts 
Of  heaven,  Pandora,  whofe  pernicious  hand 
From  the  dire  vafe  releas'd  th'  imprifon'd  woes. 

Thou  gracious  commerce,    frem  his  cheerlefs 

caves 

In  horrid  rocks  and  Solitary  woods, 
The  helplefs  wand'rer,  man  forlorn  and  wild 
Didft  charm.to  fvveet  fociety ;  didft  caft 
The  deep  foundations,  where  the  future  pride 
Of  mightieft  cities  rofe,  and  o'er  the  main 
Before  the  wond'ring  Nereids  didft  prefent 
The  furge-dividing  keel,  and  ftately  maft, 
Whofe  canvafs  wings,  diftending  with  the  gale, 
The  bold  Phoenician  through  Alcides"  ftraits 
To  northern  Albion's  tin-embowcll'd  fields, 
And  oft  beneath  the  fea-obfcuring  brow 
Of  cloud  envclop'd  Teneriff  convey'd. 
Next  in  fagacious  thought  th'  ethereal  plains 
Thou  trod'ft,  exploring  each  propitious  ftar 
The  danger-braving  mariner  to  guide  ; 
Then  all  the.  latent  and  myfterious  powers 
Of  number  didft  unravel :  laft  to  crown 
Thy  bounties,  goddefs,  thy  unrivall'd  toils 
For  man,  ftill  urging  thy  inventive  mind, 
Thou  gav'ft  him  (/')  letters;  there  imparting  all, 
Which  lifts  the  ennobled  fpirit  near  to  heaven, 
Laws,  learning,  wifdom,  nature's  works  reveal'd 
By  godlike  fages,  all  Minerva's  arts, 
Apollo's  mufic,  and  th'  eternal  voice 


(i)    f^ulcan,  the  tutelary  deity  of  Lemnos. 

(/')  Here  the  opinion  ofSirJfaac  Nciuton  is  felloivccl ', 
that  letters  luerijirjl  invented  amongjl  the  trading  far  is 
tftbe  -world. 


149 

Of  virtue  founding  from  the  hiftotic  roll, 
The  philofophic  page,  and  poet's  fong. 

Now  iblitude  and  Glence  ;rom  the  fhores 
Retrtat  on  pathleis  mountains  to  refide, 
Barbarity  is  polifti'd,  infant  arts 
Uloom  in  the  defert,  and  benignant  peace 
With  ho(pitulity  begin  to  footh 
Unfocial  rapine,  and  the  thirft  of  blood  ; 
As  from  his  tumid  urn  when  Nilus  fpreads 
Hisgenial  tides  abroad,  the  favour'd  loil 
That  joins  his  fruitful  border,  rirft  imbibes 
The  kindly  itream :  anon  the  bounteous  god 
His  waves  extends,  embracing  J'-gypt  round, 
Dwells  on  the  teeming  champain,  and  enuows 
The  flceping  grain  with  vigour  to  attire 
In  one  bright  harveft  all  the  Pharian  plains : 
Thus,  when  Pygmalion  from  Phoenician  Tyre 
Had  banifli'd  freedom,  with  difdainful  Iteps 
Indignant  commerce,  turning  from  the  walls 
Herfelf  had  rais'd,  her  welcome  fway  enlarg'd 
Among  the  nations,  Ipreading  round  the  gk>be 
The  fruits  of  all  its  climes  ;  (I)  Cecropian  oil, 
The  Thracian  vintage,  and  Panchaian  gums, 
Arabia's  fpices,  and  the  golden  grain, 
Which  old  Ofiris  to' his  £gypt  gave. 
And  Ceres  to  (/)  Sicania.     Thou  didft  raifc 
Th'  Ionian  name,  O  commerce,  thou  the  domes 
Of  fumptuous  Corinth,  and  the  ample  round 

Of  Syr  xufe  didft  people. -All  the  wealth 

Now  thou  affembkft  from  Iberia's  mines, 

And  golden-channell'd-Tagus,  all  the  fpoils 

From  fair  (»/)  Trinacria  waited,  all  the  powers 

Of  conquer'd  Atric's  tributary  realms 

To  fix  thy  empire  on  the  Lybian  verge, 

Thy  native  tra<ft ;  the  nymphs  of  Nyfa  hail 

Thy  glad  return,  and  echoing  joy  rcfounds 

O'er  Triton's  facred  waters,  but  in  vain  : 

The  irreverfible  decrees  of  heaven 

To  far  more  northern  regions  had  ordain'd 

Thy  lading  feat ;  in  vain  th'  imperial  pore 

Receives  the  gathftr'd  riches  of  the  world : 

In  vain  whole  climates  bow  beneath  its  rule  ; 

Behold  the  toil  of  centuries  to  Rome 

Its  glories  yield,  and  moald'ring  leaves  no  trace 

Of  its  deep-rooted  greatnefs  ;  thou  wirh  tears 

From  thy  extinguifh'd  Carthage  didft  retire, 

And  thefe  thy  perifli'd  honours  long  deplore. 

What  though  rich  (a)  Gades,  what  though  polifh'd 

Rhodes, 

With  Alexandriai,  Egypt's  fplendid  mart,  [towers, 
The   learn'd    (a)    Maffylians,   and  (/>)   Liguriau 
What  though  the  potent  Hanfeatic  league, 
And  Venive,  miftrefs>  of  the  Grecian  ifles, 
With  all  the  JEgean  floods,  a  while  might  footh 
The  fad  remenibrance  ;  what  though  led  through 

climes 
And  feas  unknown,  with  thee  th'  advent'rous  fous 


(if)   Athenian.      Athens  ivas  called  Cscropi^^from 
Cecrops,  its  fitjl  &ir,g. 

(I)  Sicily. 

(<w)   Another  name  of  Sicily,  tvfjLb  -was  frequently 
ravaged  by  tljs  Carthaginians. 

(j>  \    Cadiz. 

(e)  JHfar/iiUet,  a  Grecian  telonyt  the  mtf  dvi/!ztd 
as  well  as  the  grcatcjl  tridiug  tiiy  oj  amiuii  C.  • 

(^>)  Gc'i'ia, 

M  m  iij 


THE   WORKS   OF  GLOVE*. 


(fTagus  pafs'd  the  ftormy  cape,  which  braves 
The  huge  Atlantic  ;  what  though  Antwerp  grew 
J3eneath  thy  fmiles,  and  thou  propitious  there 
Didft  fhower  thy  bleffings  with  unfparing  hands: 
Still  on  thy  grief-indented  heart  imprefs'd 
The  great  Aniilcar's  valour,  itill  the  deeds 
Of  Afdrubal  and  Mago,  ftill  the  lol's 
Of  thy  unequal,  Annibal,  remain'd  : 
Till  from  the  fandy  mouths  of  echoing  Rhine, 
And  founding  margin  cf  the  Scheldt  and  Macfe, 
With  fudden  roar  the  angry  voice  of  war 
Alarm'd  thy  langour  ;  wonder  turn'd  thy  eye. 
Lo  !  in  bright  arms  a  bold  militia  flood, 
Arrang'd  for  battle  :  from  afar  thou  faw'fl 
Thefnowy  ridge  of  Appenine,  the  fields 
Of  wild  Calabria,  and  Pyrene's  hills, 
The  Guadiana,  and  the  Duro's  banks, 
And  rapid  Ebro  gath'ring  all  their  powers 
To  crufh  this  daring  populace.     The  pride 
Of  fiercest  kings  with  more  enflam'd  revenge 
Ne'er    menac'd    freedom;    nor  fince    dauntlefs 

Greece, 

And  Rome's  ftern  offspring  none  hath  e'er  furpafs'd 
1  he  bold  (r)  Baravian  in  his  glorious  toil 
for  liberty,  or  death.     At  once  the  thought 
Of  long-lamented  Carthage  flies  thy  breail, 
And  ardent,  goddefs,  thou  doft  fpeed  to  fave 
The  generous  people.     Not  the  vernal  {hovers, 
Diflilling  copious  from  the  morning  clouds, 
Dsfcend  more  kindly  on  the  tender  flower, 
New-born  and  opening  on  the  lap  of  fpring, 
Than  on  this  rifing  ftate  thy  cheering  fmile, 
And  animating  preience  ;  while  on  Spain, 
Prophetic  thus,   thy  indignation  broke  ; 

Infatiate  race  !  the  fhame  of  polifh'd  lands ! 
Difgrace  of  Europe  !  for  inhuman  deeds 
And  infolence  renown'd  !  what  demon  led 
Thee  firft  to  plough  the  undifcover'd  furge, 
"Which   lav'd  an  hidden   world  ?    whofe  malice 

taught 

Thee  firft  to  taint  with  rapine,  and  with  rage, 
"With  more  than  favage  thirft  of  blood  die  arts, 
By  me  for  gentleft  intercourfe  ordain'd, 
For  mutual  aids,  and  hofpitable  tics 
From  fhore  to  ihore  ?  Or,  that  pernicious  hour, 
Was  heaven  difgufted  with  its  wondrous  works, 
That  to  thy  fell  exterminating  hand 
Th'  immenfe  Peruvian  empire  it  refign'd, 
And  all,   which  lorcily  (/)  Montezuma  fway'd  ? 
And  com'ft  thou,  ftrengthen'd  with  the  Ihining 

llores 

Of  that  gold  teeming  hemifphere,  to  waftc 
The  fmiling  fields  of  Europe,  and  extend 
Thy  bloody  fliackles  o'er  thefe  happy  feats 
Of  liberty?  Prefumptuous  nation,  learn, 
From  this  dire  period  fhall  thy  glories  fade, 
Thy  {laughter 'd  youth  fhall  fatten  Belgium's  fands 
And  viclory  againft  her  Albion's  cliffs 
Shall  fee  the  blood  empurpl'd  ocean  dafh 
Thy  weltering  hofts,  and  ftain  the  chalky  fhore : 
Ev'n  diofe,  whom  now  thy  impious  pride  would 

bind 


(?)   The  Portvguefc  d'iftovered  the  Cape  cf  Cuod  Hoft 
in  1487. 

(r)  The  DuUb. 
(r)  Mor.tetutxa,  cmf  er or  of  jtfc xi;o. 


In  fervile  chains,  hereafter  dall  fupport        [hand  . 
Thy  weaken'd  throne ;  when  heaven's  afflicting 
Of  all  thy  power  defpoils  thee,  when  alone 
Of  all,  which  e'er  hath  fignaliz'd  thy  name, 
Thy  intblence  and  cruelty  remain. 

Thus  with  her  clouded  vifage,  wrapt  in  frowns, 
The  goddefs  thrcaten'd,  and  the  daring  train 
Of  her  untam'd  militia,  torn  with  wounds, 
Defpifing  fortune,  from  repeated  foils 
More  fierce,  and  braving  famine's  keeneft  rage, 
At  length  through  deluges  of  blood  fhe  led 
To  envied  greatnefs;  ev'n  while  clamorous  Mars 
With  loudeft  clangor  bade  his  trumpet  (hake 
The  Belgian  chanipain,  fhe  their  ilandard  rear'd 
On  tributary  Java,  and  the  mores 
Of  huge  Borneo  ;  thou,  Sumatra,  heard'ft 
Her  naval  thunder,  Ceylon's  trembling  16ns 
Their  fragrant  fiores  of  cinnamon  refign'd, 
And  odour-breathing  Ternate  and  Tidore 
Their  fpicy  groves.     And  O  whatever  coaft 
The  Belgians  trace,  where'er  their  po'.ver  is  fpreai 
To  hoary  Zembla,  or  to  Indian  funs, 
Still  thither  be  extended  thy  renown, 
O  William,  pride  of  Orange,  and  ador'd 
Thy  virtues,  which  dildaining  life,  or  wealth, 
Or  empire,  whether  in  thy  dawn  of  youth, 
Thy  glorious  noon  of  manhood,  or  the  night, 
(0  The  fatal  night  of  death,  no  other  care 
Befides  the  public  own'd.     And  dear  to  fame 
Be  thou  harmonious  (u)  Douza  ;  every  mufe, 
Your  lautel  ftrow  around  this  hero's  urn, 
Whom  fond  Minerva  grac'd  with  all  her  arts, 
Alike  in  letters  and  in  arms  to  fhine, 
A  dauntlefs  warrior,  and  a  learned  bard. 
Him    Spain's    furrounding    hoft    for    flaughter 

mark'd, 

With  maffacre  yet  reeking  from  the  ftreets 
Of  blood-ftain'd  Harlem  :  he  on  Leyden's  tow'rs, 
With  famine  his  companion,  wan,  lubdu'd 
In  outward  form,  with  patient  virtue  flood 
Superior  to  deipair  ;  the  heavenly  nine 
His  fuffering  foul  with  great  examples  cheer'd 
Of  memorable  bards,  by  Mars  adorn'd 
With  wreaths  of  fame  ;  (x)  Oeagrus'  tuneful  fon, 
Who  with  melodious  prai.e  to  nobleft  deeds 
Charrn'd  the  loicluan  heroes,  and  himfelf 
Their  danger  fhar'd  ;  (y)Tyrtaeus,  who  reviv'd 
With  animating  verfe  the  Spartan  hopes; 
Brave  (z)  ./Efchylus  and  (a)  Sophocles,  around 


(t~)  Hi  was  a/ofltnatcd  at  Delf.  Hit  dying  ivordr 
ii-crt,  Lor  J  have  mercy  upon  this  people. 

See  Grot,  de  Bell.  Belg. 

(t)  Jantts  Douza,  a  famous  poet,  and  the  moft  learned 
man  of  Li:  tints.  He  commanded  in  Leya'en  ivhen  it  -was 
fo  cbjiinatcly  bejic^ed  by  the  Spaniards  in  1570. 

See  Meurfii  Athen.  Bat. 

(x)  Orpheus,  one  of  the  Argonauts,  -uibo  fet  fait 
from  lolcos,  a  toii-n  in  'TbfJJ'alia. 

(^•)  When  the  Spartans -were  greatly  diftrcjcd  in 
the  Meffenian  ivar,  they  applied  to  the  Athenians  for  a 
general,  it-bofent  tb:m  the  feet  fyrtaus. 

(z)  JEfihylus,  one  of  the  mojl  ancient  tragic  potts, 
tubo  Jtgnalized  bimfelf  in  the  baitles  of  Marathon  and 
Salamis. 

(<z)  Sapbotles  ctntmandcd  bis  (tuintryvm  the  Atbcni- 
ani,  infevcraf 


MISCELLANIES. 


Wh«fe  facred  brows  the  tragic  ivy  twin'd, 
Mix'd  with  the  warrior's  laurel ;  all  furpafs'd 
By  Douza's  valour  :  and  the  generous  toil, 
His  and  his  country's  labours  foon  receiv'd 
Their  high  reward,  when  favouring  commerce 

rais'd 

Th'  invincible  Batavians,  till,  rever'd 
Among  the  mightieft  on  the  brighteft  roll 
Of  fame  they  fhone,  by  fplendid  wealth  and  power 
Grac'd  and  fupported  ;  thus  a  genial  foil 
Diffufing  vigour  though  the  infant  oak, 
Affords  it  ftrength  to  flourifh,  till  at  laft 
Its  lofty  head,  in  verdant  honours  clad, 
It  rears  amidft  the  proudeft  of  the  grove. 

Yet  here  th'  eternal  fates  thy  laft  retreat 
Deny,  a  mightier  nation  they  prepare 
For  thy  reception,  fufferers  alike 
By  th'  unremitted  infolence  of  power 
From  reign  to  reign,  nor  lefsthan  Belgium  known 
For  bold  contention  oft  on  crimfon  fields, 
In  free-tongu'd  fenates  oft  with  nervous  laws 
To  circumfcribe,  or  conquering  to  depofe 
Their  fcepter'd  tyrants :  Albion  fea-embrac'd, 
The  joy  of  freedom,  dread  of  treacherous  kings, 
The  deftin'd  miftrefs  of  the  fubje<ft  main, 
And  arbitrefsof  Europe,  now  demands 
Thy  prefence,  goddefs.     It  was  now  the  time, 
Ere  yet  perfidious  Cromwell  dar'd  profane 
The  facred  fenate,  and  with  impious  feet 
Tread  on  the  powers  of  magiftrates  and  laws, 
"While  every  arm  was  chill'd  with  cold  amaze, 
Nor  one  in  all  that  dauntlefs  train  was  found 
To  pierce  the  ruffian's  heart ;  and  now  thy  name 
"Was  heard  in  thunder  through  th'  affrighted  fhores 
Of  pale  Iberia,  of  fubmiflive  Gaul, 
And  Tagus,  trembling  to  his  utmoft  fource. 
O  ever  faithful,  vigilant,  and  brave, 
Thou  bold  affertor  of  Britannia's  fame, 
Unconquerable  Blake :  propitious  heaven 
At  this  great  era,  and  (£)  the  fage  decree 
Of  Albion's  fenate,  perfecting  at  once, 
What  by  (?)  Eliza  was  fo  well  begun, 
So  deeply  founded,  to  this  favour'd  fhore 
The  goddefs  drew,  where  grateful  fhe  beftow'd 
Th'  unbounded  empire  of  her  father's  floods, 
And  chofe  thee,  London,  for  her  chief  abode, 
Pleas'd  with  the  Clver  Thames,  its  gentle  ftrcam, 
And  fmiling  banks,  its  joy-diffufing  hills, 
Which  clad  with  fplendcur,   aiid  with  beauty 

grac'd, 

O'erlook  his  lucid  bofom  ;  pleas'd  with  thee, 
Thou  nurfe  of  arts,  and  thy  induftrious  race  ; 
Pleas'd  with  their  candid  manners,  with  their  free 
Sagacious  converfe,  to  inquiry  led, 
And  zeal  for  knowledge ;  hence  the  opening  mind 
Refigns  its  errors,  and  unfeals  the  eye 
Of  blind  opinion  ;  merit  hence  is  heard 
Amidft  its  blufhes,  dawning  arts  arife, 
The  gloomy  clouds,  which  ignorance  or  fear 
Spread  o'er  the  paths  of  virtue  are  difpell'd, 
Servility  retires,  and  every  heart 
"With  public   cares  is  warm'd  -,    thy  merchants 

hence, 

(£)    Tie  a£i  of  navigation. 
W  ^Jfet"  £ilzcletb  lias    tie  frfl  cf  our  frincet, 
ittr  f<ne  any  tonfidtratile  tne^uia^ement  tv trade. 


55« 


Illuftrious  city,  thou  doft  raife  to  fame  . 

How  many  names  of  glory  may'ft  thou  trace 

From  earlieft  annal*  down  to  (</)  Barnard's  timci ! 

And,  O  !  if  like  that  eloquence  divine, 

Which  forth  for  commerce,  for  Britannia's  rights, 

And  her  infulted  majefty  he  pour'd, 

Thefe  humble  meafui  cs  flow'd,  then  too  thy  walk 

Might  undifgrac'd  refound  thy  poet's  name,  > 

Who  now  all-fearful  to  thy  praife  attunes 

His  lyre,  and  pays  his  graceful  fong  to  thee, 

Thy  votary,  O  commerce !  Gracious  power. 

Continue  ft  ill  to  hear  my  vows,  and  blefs 

My  honourable  induftry,  which  courts 

No  other  fmile  but  thine  ;  for  thou  alone 

Can'ft  wealth  beftow  with  independence  crown'd ; 

Nor  yet  exclude  contemplative  repole, 

But  to  my  dwelling  grant  the  folemn  calm 

Ot  learned  leifure,  never  to  rejedl 

The  vifitation  of  the  tuneful  maids, 

Who  leldom  deign  to  leave  their  facred  haunts, 

And  grace  a  mortal  mantion  ;  thou  divide 

With  them  my  labours;  pleafure  I  refign, 

And,  all  devoted  to  my  midnight  lamp, 

Ev'n  now,  when  Albion  o'er  the  foaming  bread 

Of  groaning  Tethys  fpreads  its  threat'ning  fleets, 

I  grafp  the  founding  fhell,  prepar'd  to  fing 

That  hero's  valour,  who  fhall  beft  confound 

His  injur'd  country's  foes ;  cv'n  now  I  feel 

Celeftial  fires  defcending  on  my  bread, 

Which  prompt  thy  daring  fuppliant  to  explore, 

Why,   though    deriv'd  from    Neptune,    though 

rever'd 

Among  the  nations,  by  the  gods  endow'd, 
Thou  never  yet  from  eldeft  times  haft  found 
One  permanent  abode  ;  why  oft  expell'd 
Thy  favour'd  feats,  from  clime  to  clime  haft  borne 
Thy  wandering  fteps;  why  London  late  hath  feen 
(Thy  lov'd,  thy  laft  retreat),  defponding  care 
O'ercloud  thy  brow  :  O  liften,  while  the  mufe, 
Th'  immortal  progeny  of  Jove,  unfolds 
The  fatal  caufe.  What  time  in  Nyfa's  cave 
Th'  ethereal  train,  in  honour  to  thy  fire, 
Shower 'd   on  thy  birth   their  blended  gifts,  the 

power 

Of  war  was  abfent ;  hence,  unblefs'd  by  Mars, 
Thy  fons  relinquifh'd  arms,  on  other  arts 
Intent,  and  ftill  to  mercenary  hands 
The  fword  intruding,  vainly  deem'd,  that  wealth 
Could  purchafe  lafting  fafety,  and  protecl 
Unwarlike  freedom ;  hence  the  Alps  in  vain 
Were  pafs'd,  their  long  impenetrable  fnows, 
And  dreary  torrents  ;  fwoln  with  Roman  dead» 
Aftonifh'd  (e)  Trebia  overflow'd  its  banks 
In  vain,  and  deep-dy'd  Trafimenus  roll'd 
Its  crimfon  waters;  Cannx's  fignalday 
The  fame  alone  of  great  AmUcar's  fon 
Enlarg'd,  while  ftill  undifciplin'd,  difmay'd, 
Her  head  commercial  Cai  thage  bow'd  at  laft 
To  military  Rome  :  th'  unaltcr'd  will 
Of  Heaven  in  ever)'  climate  hath  ordain'd, 
And  every  age,  that  empire  ihall  attend 
The  fword,  and  fteel  fhall  ever  conquer  gold. 


(</)   Sir  Join  Barnard. 

(f)  Trebia,  Trajtmenut  lacus,  and  Cannf ,  famous f«r 
tli  wfioriet  gained  by  Siar.ibal  ever  tit  Remans.]         ^ 


55* 


THE   WORKS   OF   GLOVER* 


Then  from  thy  fufferings  learn  ;  th'  aufpicious  hour 
Now  fmiles;  our  wary  magistrates  have  arm'd 
Our  hands;  thou,  goddefs,  animate  our  breafts 
To  caft  inglorious  indolence  afide, 
That  once  again,  in  bright  battalions  rang'd, 
Our  thoufarids  and  ten  thoufands  may  be  feen 
Their  country's  only  rampart,  and  the  dread 
C?f  wild  ambition.  Mark  the  Swedifh  hind  ; 
He,  on  his  native  foil  fhould  danger  lowr, 
Soon  from  the  entrails  of  the  dufky  mine 
Would  rife  to  arms;  and  other  fields  and  chiefs 
With  Helfingburg  (/)  and  Steinboch  foon  would 

fhare 

The  admiration  of  the  northern  world : 
Helvetia's  hills  behold,  th'  aerial  feat 
Of  long-fupported  liberty,  who  thence, 
Securely  relling  on  her  faithful  fhield, 
The  warrior's  corfelet  flaming  on  her  breaft, 
.Looks  down  with  fcorn  on  fpacious  realms,  which 

groan 

Jn  fcrvitude  around  her,  and  her  fword    ' 
With  dauntlefs  fkill  high  brandffhing,  defies 
The  Auftrian  eagle,  and  imperious  Gaul  : 
And  O  !  could  thofe  ill-fated  fhades  arife, 
"WHofe  valiant  ranks  along  th'  enfanguin'd  duft 
Of  (jf)  Newbery  lay  crowded,  they  could  tell, 
How  their  long  matchlefs  cavalry,  fo  oft 
O'er  hills  of  flain  by  ardent  Rupert  led, 
Whofe  dreaded  ftandard  victory  had  wav'd, 
Till  then  triumphant,  therewith  nobleft  blood 
Prom  their  gor'd  fquadrons  dy'd  the  reflive  1'pear 
Of  London's  firm  militia,  and  refi^n'd 
The  well-difputed  field;  then,  goddufs,  fay, 
Shall  wre  be  riow  more  timid,  wh'.-n  behold, 
The   btack'ning  ftorm   DOW  gathers  round   our 

heads, 

And  England's  angry  genius  founds  to  arms  ? 
For  thee,  remember,  is  the  banner  fpread ; 
The  naval  tower  to  vindicate  thy  rights 
"Will  fweep   the   curling  foam :    the   thund'ring 

bomb 

Will  roar,  and  ftartle  ih  the  deepeft  grots 
Old  Nereus'  daughters ;  with  combuftion  flor'd, 
For  thee  our  dire  volcanos  of  the  main, 
Impregnated  with  horror,  foon  will  pour 
Their  flaming  ruin  round  each  hoftile  fleet : 
Thou. then,  great  goddefs,  fummon  all  thy  powers, 
Arm  all  thy  fons,  thy  vafials,  every  heart 

(f)  Helfingburg,  a  fin  all  tcrlvn  in  Schonem,  cele 
brated  for  the  "vifiory  ivbicb  Count  Steinboch  gained  over 
tie  Danes,  ti'itb  an  army,  for  the  mojl  pari  compofcd  of 
Siveelfjb  feafants,  ivbo  had  never  feen  an  er.emy  before  : 
it  is  remarkable,  that  the  defeated  troops  ivere  as  com 
plete  a  body  tf  regular  forces  as  any  in  all  Europe, 

Q>")  The  Ijondon  train*  d-band,  and  auxiliary  r'tgi- 
giments  (of  ivbofe  inexperience  of  danger,  or  any  kind  of 
.  Jiri'ict,  blvontl  the  eafy  practice  of  their  pnftures  in  the 
Artillery-Ground^  had  till  then  too  cheap  an  cjlimaiion')* 
tebaved  tbemfel-ues  to  "wonder  ;  and  ivere,  in  trutb,  the 
preferiiation  of  that  army  that  day.  For  they  flood  as  a 
iuhvark  and  rampire  to  defend  tb<  re/7  ;  and  icben  tbcir 
ivin-rs  of  borfe  ivere  fcatte'red  and  difpcrfi-d,  it  ft  their 
ground  faff  adily,  that  though  Prince  Rupert  limfelf  led 
vp  the  choice  borfe  to  cbarge  them,  and  endured  the  Jlorm 
cfJinaHfi.-*,  he  could  make  no  imprejj'ion  en  their  Jland  of 
piles;  but  -was  forced  tt  iiLecl  abwt,  Clarecd. book  7. 
page  347. 


Inflame :  and  you,  ye  fear-difclaimin£  rate, 
Ye  mariners  of  Britain,  chofen  train 
Of  liberty  and  commerce,  now  no  more 
Secrete  your  generous  valour ;  hear  the  call 
Of  injur'd  Albion ;  to  her  foes  prefent 
Thofe  daring  bofoms,  which  alike  difdain 
The  death-difploding  cannon,  and  the  rage 
Of  warring  tempefts,  mingling  in  their  ftrife 
The  feas  and  clouds  :  though  long  in  filence  hufh'i 
Hath  flept  the  Britifh  thunder ;  though  the  pride 
Of  weak  Iberia  hath  forgot  the  roar ; 
Soon  fhall  her  ancient  terrors  be  recall'd, 
When  your  vi&orious  fhouts  affright  her  fhores : 
None  now  ignobly  will  your  warmth  reflraiu, 
Nor  hazard  more  indignant  valour's  curfe, 
Their  country's  wrath,  and  time's  eternal  fcorn  ; 
Then  bid  the  furies  of  Bellona  wake, 
And  filver-mantled  peace  with  welcome,  fteps 
Anon  fhall  vifit  your  triumphant  ifle. 
And  that  perpetual  fafety  may  poflefs 
Our  joyous  fields,  thou, genius,  who  prefid'ft 
O'er  this  illuftrious  city,  teach  her  fons 
To  wield  the  noble  inftruments  of  war  ; 
And  let  the  great  example  foon  extend 
Through  every  province,  till  Britannia  fees 
i  Her  docile  millions  fill  the  martial  plain : 
Then,  whatfoe'er  our  terrors  now  fuggeft 
Of  defolation,  and  th'  invading  fword  ; 
Though  with  his  mafiy  trident  Neptune  heav'i 
A  new-born  ifthhius  from  the  Britifli  deep, 
And  to  its  parent  continent  rejoin'd 
•Our  chalky  fhore;  though  Mahomet  could  league 
'His  powerful  crefcent  with  thehoilile  Gaul, 
And  that  new  Cyrus  of  the  conquer'd  eaft, 
Who  now  in  trembling  vaffalage  unites 
The  Ganges  and  Euphrates,  could  advance 
:  With  his  auxiliar  hoft  ;  our  warlike  youth 
iWith  (b)  equal  numbers,  and  with  keener  zeal 
l;or  children,  parents,  friends,  for  England  fir'd, 
!Her  fertile  glebe,  her  wealthy  towns,  her  laws, 
Her  liberty,  her  honour,  fhould  fuflain 
The  dreadful  onfet,  and  refiftlefs  break 
!Th'  immcnfe  array  ;  thusev'n  the  lightefl  thought 
i.Vr  to  invade  Britannia's  calm  repofe, 
'Muft  die  the  moment,  that  aufpicious  Mars 
Her  fons  (hall  blefs  with  difcipline  and  arms ; 
That  exil'd  race,  in-  fuperftition  nurs'd, 
The  fervile  pupils  of  tyrannic  Rome, 
With  diflant  gaze  dcfpairing,  fliall  behold 
The  guarded  Iplendours  of  Britannia's  crown ; 
Still  from  their  abdicated  fway  efcrang'd, 
With  all  th'  attendance  on  defpotic  thrones, 
Priefts,  ignorance,  and  bonds ;  with  watchful  flep 
Gigantic  terror,  finding  round  our  coaft, 
Sljall  fhake  his  Gorgon  aagis,  and  the  hearts 
Of  proudeft  kings  appal;  to  other  fhores 
Our  angry  fleets,  when  infolence  and  wrongs 
To  arms  awaken  our  vindictive  power, 
Shall  bear  the  hideous  wafte  of  ruthlefs  war ; 
But  liberty,  fecurity,  and  fame, 
Shall  dwell  for  ever  on  our  chofen  plains. 

(£)  If  the  c ompuiaiion,  ivhicb  allots  mar  tw»  mil 
lions  of  fighting  men  to  this  kingdom  may  be  relied  on  ;  it 
is  not  eafy  to  conceive,  botu  the  united  force  of  the  -whole 
liorld  could  affemble  together,  and  fubjtfl  it  an  enemy's 
c-  untry  greater  numbers,  than  they  would Jind  opfofcd  ff 
|  tltm  here. 


MISCELLANIES. 


ADMIRAL  HOSIER'S  GHOST. 

As  near  Porto-Bello  lying 

On  the  gently-fwelling  flood, 
At  midnight  with  dreamers  flying 

Our  triumphant  navy  rode ; 
There  while  Vernon  fat  all-glorious 

From  th?  Spaniards'  late  defeat : 
And  his  crews,  with  {bouts  victorious, 

Drank  fuccefs  to  England's  fleet : 

On  a  fudden,  flirilly  founding, 

Hideous  yells  and  fhrieks  were  heard ; 
Then  each  heart  with  fear  confounding, 

A  fad  troop  of  ghofts  appear'd, 
All  in  dreary  hammocks  fhrouded, 

Which  for  winding-fheets  they  wore, 
And  with  looks  by  forrow  clouded 

Frowning  on  that  hoftile  fhore. 

On  them  gleam'd  the  moon's  wan  luflre, 

When  the  fhade  of  Hofier  brave 
His  pale  bands  was  feen  to  mufter, 

Rifing  from  their  wat'ry  grave : 
O'er  the  glimmering  wave  he  hy'd  him, 

Where  the  Burtbrd  rear'd  her  fail, 
With  three  thoufand  gholls  befides  him, 

And  in  groans  did  Vernon  hail. 

Heed,  O  heed,  our  fatal  ftory, 

I  am  HoCer's  injur'd  ghoft, 
You,  who  now  have  purchas'd  gldry 

At  this  place  where  I  was  loft ; 
Though  in  Porto-Bello's  ruin 

You  now  triumph  free  from  fears, 
When  you  think  on  our  undoing, 

You  will  mix  your  joy  with  tears. 

See  thefe  mournful  fpe<Sres  fweeping 

Ghaftly  o'er  this  hated  wave, 
Whofe  wan  cheeks  are  ftain'd  with  weeping; 

Thefe  were  Englifli  captains  brave : 
Mark  thofe  numbers  pale  and  horrid, 

Thofe  were  once  my  failors  bold, 
Lo,  each  hangs  his  drooping  forehead,  , 

While  his  difmal  tale  is  told. 

I,  by  twenty  fail  attended, 

Did  this  Spamfh  town  affright ; 

Nothing  then  its  wealth  defended 
But  my  orders  not  to  fight : 


O  !  that  in  this  rolling  ocean 
I  had  caft  them  with  difdain, 

And  obey'd  my  heart's  warm  motion, 
To  have  quell'd  the  pride  of  Spain ; 

For  refiftance  I  could  fear  none, 

But  with  twenty  fhips  had  done 
What  thou,  brave  and  happy  Vernon, 

Haft  achiev'd  with  fix  alone. 
Then  the  Baftimentos  never 

Had  our  foul  difhonour  feen, 
Nor  the  fea  the  fad  receiver 

Of  this  gallant  train  had  been. 

Thus,  like  thee,  proud  Spain  difmayinj, 

And  her  galleons  leading  home, 
Though  condemn'd  for  difobeying, 

I  had  met  a  traitor's  doom. 
To  have  fallen,  my  coantry  crying 

He  has  play'd  an  Englifh  part, 
Had  been  better  far  than  dying 

Of  a  griev'd  and  broken  heart. 

Unrepining  at  thy  glory, 

Thy  fuccefsful  arms  we  hail ; 
But  remember  our  fad  ftory, 

And  let  Hofier's  wrongs  prevail. 
Sent  in  this  foul  clime  to  languifh, 

Think  what  thoufands  fell  in  vain, 
Wafted  with  difeafe  and  anguifli, 

Not  in  glorious  battle  flain. 

Hence  with  all  my  train  attending 

From  their  oozy  tombs  below, 
Through  the  hoary  foam  afcending, 

Here  I  feed  my  conftant  woe  : 
Here  the  Baftimentos  viewing, 

We  recal  our  fhameful  doom, 
And  our  plaintive  cries  renewing, 

Wander  through  the  midnight  gloom. 

O'er  thefe  waves  for  ever  mourning 

Shall  we  roam  depriv'd  of  reft, 
If  to  Britain's  fhores  returning 

You  negledt  my  juft  reqtieft; 
After  this  proud  foe  fubduing, 

When  your  patriot  friends  you  fee, 
Think  on  vengeance  for  my  ruin, 

And  for  England  fhatn'd  ia  me. 


THE 


O  F 


CUTHBERT    SHAW. 


Containing 

MONODY  TO  TH«  MEMORY  OF  A  tADT,  II  THE  RACK, 

ADDRESS  TO  A  NIGHTINGALE,  SONUS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    4UTHOR. 


•  •  the  nobleft  of  the  tuneful  throng 

Shall  deign  my  love-lorn  tale  to  hear, 
Shall  catch  the  foft  contagion  of  my  fong, 
And  pay  my  penfivc  mufe  the  tribute  of  a  tear. 

ADDRESS  TO  A  NIGHTINGALE. 


E  D  I  N  B  U  R  G  H : 

PRINTED  BT  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK.  CLOSE. 
Am*   1795. 


THE  LIFE  OF  SHAW. 


COTHBERT  SHAW  was  born  at  Ravcnfworth,  next  Richmond  in  Yorkshire,  in  1738  or 
His  father  was  by  trade  a  fhoemaker,  in  low  circumftances. 

He  was  firfl  put  to  fchool  at  Kirkbyhill,  near  Ravenfworth ;  but  he  was  foon  removed  to  Scorton, 
five  miles  from  Richmond  ;  where,  after  having  gone  through  a  common  courfe  of  education,  he 
was  appointed  ulher. 

•  Some  time  after,  he  became  ufher  to  the  grammar-fchool  at  Darlington,  under  Mr.  Metcalf ;  where 
he  publifhed  his  firfl  poem,  in  1756,  called  Liberty  t  humbly  infcriied  ta  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of 
Darlington,  410. 

While  he  redded  at  Darlington,  he  began  to  {how  that  negligence  of  the  dictates  of  prudence, 
and  the  rules  of  economy,  which  marked  his  future  life,  infomuch  that  he  was  obliged  to  quit  his 
employment,  and  the  country ;  and  with  nothing  but  hi*  ulents  came  in  qucft  of  fortune  t« 
London. 

The  exact  time  of  his  arrival  in  London  has  not  been  afcertained ;  but  report  fays,  that  his  firfl 
employment  was  writing  paragraphs  and  efiays  for  the  newfpapers. 

In  the  fpring  1760,  he  was  at  St.  Edmond's-Bury,  probably  a  member  of  the  Norwich  Company 
of  Comedians,  and  publifhed  under  the  name  of  W.  Seymour,  Odes  »*  the  four  Seafom,  410,  the  pro 
duction  of  his  early  youth. 

In  the  fummer  of  that  year,  he  joined  the  hafty  raifed  company  with  which  Mr.  Foote  opened 
the  Hay-Market  with  "  The  Minor,"  a  play  that  was  acted  with  uncommon  fuccefs,  thirty-eight 
nights,  and  in  which  Shaw  performed  the  part  of  Sir  George  Wealthy. 

The  winter  of  that  year,  he  palled  either  in  Ireland  or  in  fame  country  company,  aad  in  fummer 
1761,  performed  at  Drury-Lane,  then  opened  by  Mr.  Foote,  and  Mr.  Murphy. 

On  the  1 9th  of  October  he  appeared  at  Covent  Garden  in  the  character  of  Ofmyn  in  "  Zara,"  but 
with  fo  little  fuccefs,  that  he  never  was  permitted  to  perform  any  more,  till  the  I4th  May,  whea 
he  perfonated  Piern  in  "  Venice  Preferved,"  for  his  own  benefit. 

He  poflefled  but  few  requifites  for  the  ftage,  except  figure;  and  from  this  time  feems  to  hare 
abandoned  a  profcflion  from  which  he  was  likely  to  derive  neither  profit  nor  reputation. 

In  1 762,  he  refumed  the  pen,  and  the  poetical  war  kindled  by  Churchill,  raging  at  that  juncture 
w.ith  great  violence,  he  wrote  a  fatire,  called  The  Four  far:Lmg  CanJies,  410,  in  which  he  attacked 
Lloyd,  Churchill,  and  Colman ;  with  whom  he  thought  proper  to  join  Shirley ;  though  with  little 
apparent  propriety.  This  performance  was  executed  with  confiderable  fpirk,  and  obtained  fo  much 
notice  as  to  encourage  him  to  proceed  as  an  author.  The  following  lines  applied  to  the  celebrated 
author  of  the  "  Rofciad,"  are  enough  to  make  every  difcerning  reader  pronounce  him  utterly  defti- 
tute  of  candour,  and  juflly  chargeable  with  that  very  mean  akufe  of  which  he  accufes  the  poet  he  has 
tkken  upon  him  to  correct  for  the  fame  offence. 

When  a  rough  unwieldy  wight 
Turns  bard,  infus'd  by  nought  but  fpite  ; 
Though  here  and  there  •A.Jfo'.en  thought 
May  prove  the  blockhead  not  untaught, 
Yet  by  his  awkward  hobbling  gait, 
We  cafily  difcern  the  cheat ; 


558  THE  LIFE   OF   SHAW. 

And  in  each  fpleen-fraught  line  can  trace, 
His  -want  of  genius,  as  of  grace. 

The  fuccefs  of  this  fatirc  produced  "  An  Epiftle  to  the  Author  of  the  Four  Farthing  Candlei," 
4to,  by  the  author  of  the  "  Rofciad  of  Govent  Garden ;"  a  performance  of  no  value. 

lu  1/66,  he  made  Churchill  amends  for  the  unjuftifiable  fe verity  with  which  he  had  treated 
him  in  his  Four  Fartbing  Candles,  by  making  him  the  hero  of  a  mock-heroic  poem  called  The  Race, 
ty  Mercuriut  Spur,  Ef<j.  "with  notei  by  Faujlinut  Scriblerus,  410,  in  which  he  chara&erifed  the 
chief  poets,  bookfellers,  printers,  and  reviewers,  of  that  period ;  and  fome  of  them  with  great  fc- 
verity. 

This  poem  was  eagerly  read,  and  republiflied  and  enlarged  in  1767  ;  with  an  Addreft  tt  tit  Critia, 
ia  which  he  alludes  to  his  early  propenfity  to  poetry,  in  the  following  lines : 

Where  Pegafus,  who  ambled  ztf/tten, 
No  longer  fporting  on  the  rural  green, 
Rampant  breaks  forth,  now  flies  the  peaceful  plains, 
And  bounds  impetuous,  heedlefs  of  the  reins ; 
O'er  earth's  vaft  furface  madly  fcours  along, 
Nor  fpares  a  critic,  gaping  in  the  throng. 

It  appears  from  this  performance,  that  he  had  by  this  time  no  want  of  confidence  in  his  poweri. 
He  had  learned  to  deal  his  fatire  about  with  no  unfparing  hand ;  and  if  it  was  not  felt  by  the  parties 
againft  whom  it  was  directed,  it  was  owing  to  no  lenity  or  forbearance  in  the  fatirift. 

About  this  time  he  wrote  an  Account  of  the  virtues  of  the  Beaume  de  Fie,  a  then  popular  medicine, 
and  was  admitted  as  a  partner  to  a  proportion  of  the  profits  arifing  from  it. 

He  had  hitherto  led,  if  not  a  profligate,  at  leaft  a  diffipated  life.  He  now  feemed  fenfible  of  it 
himfelf,  and  foon  afterwards  married  an  amiable  and  accomplilhed  young  woman,  of  a  good  family, 
it  would  feem,  againft  the  wifties  of  her  friends. 

For  a  fhort  time  he  had  the  care  of  the  prefent  Earl  of  Chefterficld,  then  an  infant,  to  inftruft 
Jiim  in  the  firft  rudiments  of  learning. 

He  alfo  printed  propofals  for  publiflung  a  collection  of  hi*  poems  by  fubfcription  ;  but  this  wai 
never  executed,  and  he  returned  the  money  he  had  received. 

In  1768,  he  had  the  affliction  to  lofe  his  wife,  in  child-bed,  of  her  firft  child;  and  on  this  melan 
choly  occafion,  wrote  his  celebrated  performance,  intituled,  A  Manady  to  the  Memory  of  a  young  Lady , 
ly  an  affliStd  Hufband,  4tO,  1768. 

The  child,  which  was  a  daughter,  lived  but  a  fliort  time  after  its  mother,  and  he  again  lament 
ed  his  fecond  lofs,  in  {trains  not  inferior  to  the  former,  in  an  Evening  Addrefs  to  a  Nightingale. 

The  publication  of  his  Menotfy  occafioned  fomc  fevere  lines  in  a  newfpapcr,  which  were  imputed 
to  Langhorne,  who  had  then  experienced  a  fimilar  affliction,  and  produced  a  paper  war  between 
the  two  poets,  that  was  conducted  with  great  liberality  on  both  fides. 

It  introduced  him  alfo,  from  congeniality  of  affliftion,  to  the  notice  of  Lyttleton,  who  extolled 
the  author  in  the  higheft  terms;  but  he  derived  no  other  advantage  from  his  acquaintance. 

In  thefe  exquifite  poems  are  many  allufions  to  the  mifery  of  their  author,  independent  of  the  cir- 
cumftances  which  gave  rife  to  them.  He  was  at  this  period  afflicted  with  difeafe,  which  put  on  itt 
moft  difgraceful  and  offenfive  form ;  and  as  he  had  poflefled  no  fmall  portion  of  vanity  about  hi» 
perfon,  this  alteration  added  pungency  to  his  affliftion. 

He,  however,  continued  to  write,  and  having  efpoufed  from  inclination,  the  principles  of  the 
party  in  oppofition  to  the  Court,  in  1769,  he  publifhed  Corruption,  a  Satire,  infcribcdto  the  Right  Ho- 
neuraUe  Richard  Grenville,  Earl  Temple,  410.  In  the  dedication  he  fpeaks  of  himfelf  in  the  following- 
manly,  intereftirig,  and  energetic  lines,  which  cannot  be  read  without  powerfully  awakcniD"  the 
l^mpathy  of  benevolence,  and  the  flame  of  patriotifm. 

For  me,  long  loft  to  all  the  world  holds  dear, 
No  hopes  can  flatter,  and  no  funs  can  cheer ; 
Sicknefs  and  forrow  with  united  rage, 
IR  early  youth  have  wreak'd  the  ills  of  age; 


THE  LIFE   OF  SHAW.  jj? 

This  all  my  wifh — (fince  «arthly  joys  are  flown) 

To  figh  unfeen — to  live  and  die  unknown  : 

To  break  the  tenor  of  this  fad  repofe, 

Say  what  could  roufe  me  but  my  country's  woe»  ? 

But  thus  to  fee  vice  ftalk  in  open  day, 

"With  fliamelefs  front,  and  univerfal  fway ! 

To  view  proud  villains  drive  the  gilded  car, 

Deck'd  with  the  fpoils  and  ravages  of  war  ! 

\Vh»fe  ill-got  wealth  fhifted  from  hand  to  han<f, 

With  vice  and  want  have  delug'd  all  the  land  ; 

'Tis  fatire's  only  to  avenge  the  caufe, 

On  th'ofe  that  fcape  from  Tyburn  and  the  laws ; 

Drag  forth  each  knave  confpicuous  amd  confeft, 

And  hang  them  high — as  fcarc-crows  for  the  reft ! 

Let  this  grand  object  claim  my  every  care, 

And  chafe  the  fallen  demon  of  defpair, 

(When  paflion  fires  us  for  the  public  weal, 

For  private  griefs  'twere  infamous  to  feel) 

Till  my  full  heart,  difburden'd  of  it»  freight, 

No  more  fliall  fwell  and  heave  beneath  the  weight ; 

This  duteous  tribute  to  my  country  paid, 

Welcome  pale  forr«w  and  the  filent  fliade ! 

From  glory's  ftandard  yet  fhould  all  retire, 

And  none  be  found  to  fan  the  generous  fire ; 

No  patriot  foul  to  juftify  the  fong, 

And  urge  its  precepts  on  the  Cumbering  throng  j 

In  vain  to  virtue  have  I  form'd  the  drain, 

An  angel's  tongue  might  plead  her  caufe  in  vain. 

Some  lone  retreat  I'll  fcek  unknown  to  fame, 

Nor  hear  the  very  echo  of  their  fhame  ; 

Confcience  fliall  pay  me  for  the  world's  neglect, 

And  Heav'n  approve  what  mortals  dare  reject. 

He  afterwards  is  fuppofed  to  have  written  many  political  as  well  as  poetic?!  performances,  and  i» 
known  to  have  been  a  contributor,  if  not  the  editor  of  "  The  Freeholder's  Magazine,"  177*,  in 
which  the  unfortunate  Chatterton  was  for  fome  time  engaged. 

One  of  his  lafl  pieces  was  an  elegy  on  the  death  of  Charles  Yorke,  the  Lord  Chancellor,  which 
was  generally  fufpected  to  have  been  fupprefled  on  the  Hardwicke  family's  paying  a  fum  of  money 
to  him ;  and  it  has  been  infinuated,  that  it  was  written  with  that  view ;  bat  the  pride  of  genius,  and 
that  delicacy  of  fentiment  which  tafte  and  reading  infpire,  discountenance  the  opinion. 

At  length,  overwhelmed  with  complicated  diftrefs,  he  died  at  his  houfe  in  Titchfield-ftreet, 
Oxford-market,  Sept.  i.  1771,  in  the  43d  year  of  his  age. 

His  Monody  to  the  Memory  of  a  Young  Lady,  and  Evening  Addrefs  to  a  Nightingale,  have  been 
frequently  reprinted  in  the  poetical  Mifcellanies.  His  Race  has  been  reprinted  in  the  id  volume  of 
the  third  edition  of  Dilly's  "  Repofitory,"  1790.  They  are  now,  with  fome  morter  pieces,  re 
printed  from  the  "  European  Magazine,"  for  1716,  received,  for  the  firft  time,  into  a  collection  of 
claflical  Englifli  poetry.  Copies  of  his  Liberty,  Odes  on  the  Four  Seafont,  Four  Farthing  Candle  st 
and  Corruption,  which  have  not  b«en  reprinted,  though  they  highly  merit  republication,  could  not 
be  obtained  for  the  ufe  of  this  edition. 

Shaw  has  unhappily  added  another  name  to  the  catalogue,  already  too  numerous,  of  men  of 
genius,  who  would  have  arifen  to  a  more  illuftrious  reputation,  had  their  talents  been  accompanied 
with  an  uniform  attention  to  the  common  maxims  of  prudence.  His  character  was  compounded 
of  good  qualities,  and  of  defects ;  of  tendernefs,  generofity,  and  probity,  to  be  commended ;  and  of 
extravagance,  vanity,  and  imprudence,  to  be  avoided.  His  chief  fault,  from  which  mod  of  his 
other  faults  proceeded,  was  an  utter  neglect  of  economy.  His  difpofition  was  friendly,  affectionate, 
and  focial.  In  the  domeltic  relations,  his  conduct  was  truly  amiable  and  exemplary. 

As  a  poet,  the  variety  of  his  compofitions  evince  the  verfatility  of  his  genius.  In  the  provi»ce  of 
humour  and  of  fatire,  he  has  been  excelled  by  many  of  his  poetical  contemporaries,  particularly 
Lloj-d  and  Churchill ;  but  in  poeticaj  feeling,  ftriking  touches  of  nature,  and  pathetic  tendernefs,  he 


5<«  THE  LIFE   OF  SHAW. 

is  inferior  to  no  writer  of  ancient  or  modern  times.  His  Monody  and  Addrcfs  to  a  Nightingale, 
far  tranfcend  the  "  Monody''  of  Lyttleton,  and  the  "  Elegies"  of  Langhorne  and  Scott,  on  fimiiar 
occaiions.  The  exquifite  tendernefs  which  runs  through  the  whole  ef  the  Monody,  renders  it  one 
of  the  moft  affecting  poems  in  the  Englifh  language.  The  meafure  of  the  Addrefs  is  irregu 
lar,  like  that  of  Dryden's  immortal  "  Ode,"  Milton's  "  Lycidas,"  Lyttleton's  "  Monody,"  5tc. 
which  fufficiently  demonftrates  that  regularity  of  metre  is  not  effential  to  poetical  excellence. 
With  thefe  poems  every  body  is  greatly  pleafed  ;  becaufe  they  have  beauties  in  them  which 
affect  every  body.  In  the  Monody,  Emma's  dying  farewell  is  particularly  pathetic.  But  it  is 
needlefs  to  point  out  thofe  ftrokes  of  pathos  which  cannot  efcape  obfervation.  True  tafte  will 
ever  appreve  of  poetry  whic^is^ritten  from  the  heart ;  for  it  will  ever  feel  the  force  of  its  pro 
ductions. 

It  is  unpleafant  to  turn  from  the  voice  of  genius  to  the  clamours  of  faction,  and  to  leave  the 
{trains  of  poetry  and  nature  for  the  uproar  of  ftrife  and  oppofition.  In  his  Race,  however  we  may 
admire  the  accuracy  of  obferration,  happy  vein  of  humour,  poignancy  of  fatire,  facility  of 
expreffion,  and  harmony  of  numbers.  The  defign  and  tendency  of  the  poem  cannot  be  com- 
.  mended.  Compofitions  of  this  clafs,  as  they  gratify  malignity,  are  ufually  read  with  great  avidity, 
•n  their  firft  appearance,  but  without  uncommon  merit,  they  quickly  fink  into  oblivion.  Even  the 
"  Dunciad,'*  of  which  the  Race  is  an  imitation,  is  read  perhaps  with  lefs  delight  than  any  other 
work  of*ts  celebrated  author ;  nor  fliould  we  refort  at  all  to  the  "  Temple  of  Dullnefs,"  to  con 
template  the  characters  of  Curll,  Theobald,  &c.  could  we  not  alfo  feaft  on  the  difpute  of  the 
"  Virtuofos"  before  the  throne  of  the  goddefs.  As  a  work  of  wit  and  ingenious  fatire,  the  Race 
may  afford  entertainment  to  thofe  who  care  little  about  many  of  the  characters  who  are  whimfically 
made  to  contend  for  pre-eminence  of  fame,  by  running : 

Prove  by  their  heels  the  prowefs  of  the  head. 

Among  the  competitors,  Dr.  Johnfon  appears  with  peculiar  diftinction ;  and  is  difmifled  with  a 
juft  and  elegant  eulogium.  His  portrait  is  drawn  with  the  pencil  of  Churchill.  The  candour  which 
breathes  in  the  following  apoftrophe  to  Vanity,  will  be  generally  allowed  as  an  apology  for  ths 
petulance  and  prefumptiqn  of  the  fatirift  ; 

Oh  Vanity  !  whofe  far  extended  fway 

Nations  confefs,  and  potentates  obey  ; 

How  vaft  thy  reign  ! — Say  where,  Oh  !  where's  the  maa, 

His  own  defects  who  boldly  dares  to  fcan, 

Juft  to  himfelf  ? — Ev'n  now,  while  I  incline 

To  paint  the  votaries  kneeling  at  thy  flirine, 

"Whilft  others  follies  freely  I  impart, 

Thy  power  refiftlefs  flutters  round  my  heart, 

Prompts  me  this  common  weaknefs  to  diiclofe3 

(Myfelf  the  very  coxcomb  I  expofe) 

And  ah  !  too  partial  to  my  lays  and  me, 

My  kind — yet  cruel  friends— foon  fhall  you  fee. 

The  cuifrit-mufe,  whofe  idle  fportive  vein, 

No  views  can  bias,  and  no  fears  reftrain ; 

Dragg'd  without  mercy  to  that  awful  bar, 

Where  fpleen  with  genius  holds  eternal  war, 

And  there  her  final  ruin  to  fulfil, 

Condemn'd  by  butchers  pre-refolv'd  to  kill. 

In  vain  her  youth  fliall  for  companion  plead, 

Even  for  a  Syllable,  the  wretch  fhall  bleed  ; 

And  fpite  of  all  the  friendfliip  you  can 

Be  made  a  public  fnectacle  of  woe. 


THE  WORKS  OF  SHAW. 


POEMS. 


MONODY 

TO  THfc  MEMORY  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

YET  do  I  live  !  O  how  fhall  I  fuftain 

This  vaft  unutterable  weight  of  woe  ? 
This  worfe  than  hunger,  poverty,  or  pain, 

Or  all  the  complicated  ills  below— 
She,  in  whofe  life  my  hopes  were  treafur'd  all, 
Is  gone — for  ever  fled—          •     ^ 
My  deareft  Emma's  dead ; 

Thefe  eyes,  thefe  tear-fwoln  eyes  beheld  her  fall : 
Ah  no — fhe  lives  on  fome  far  happier  fhore, 
She  lives — but  (cruel  thought)  fhe  lives  for  me  no 
more. 

I,  who  the  tedious  abfence  of  a  day 

Remov'd,   would  languifh  for  my  charmer's 

fight, 

Would  chide  the  lingering  moments  for  delay, 
And  fondly  blame  the  flow  return  of  night ; 
How,  how  (hall  I  endure 
(O  mifery  pad  a  cure)  ! 
Hours,  days,  and  years,  fucceffively  to  roll, 
Nor  ever  more  behold  the  comfort  of  my  foul  ? 

Was  fhe  not^all  my  fondeft  wifh  could  frame  ? 
.  Did  ever  mind  fo  much  of  Tieaven  partake  ? 
Did  fhe  not  love  me  witl£the  pureft  flame, 
And  give  up  friendstlpu  fortune  for  my  fake  ? 
Though  milffTls  evening  fides, 
With  downcaft,  ftreaming  eyes, 
Stood  the  ftern  frown  of  fupercilious  brows, 
Deaf  to  their  brutal  threats,  and  faithful  to  her 
vows. 

Come  then,  fome  mufe,  the  faddeft  of  the  train, 
(No  more  your  bard  fhall  dwell  on  idle  lays) 
Teach  me  each  moving  melancholy'ftrain, 
And  O  difcard  the  pageantry  of  phrafe-: 
111  fuit  the  flowers  of  fpeech  with  woes  like'  mine! 
Thus,  haply,  as  I  paint 
The  fource  of  my  complaint, 
My  foul  may  'own  the  unpaflion'd  line ; 
A  flood  of-  teurs  may  gufh  to  my  relief,          •          , 
And  from  my  fwelling  heart  discharge  this  load 

cf  grief. 
VOL.  XI. 


Forbear,  my  fond  officious  friends,  forbear 

To  wound  my  ears  with  the  fad  tales  you  tell; 
"  How  good  fhe  was,  how  gentle,  and  how  fair  !'* 

In  pity  ceafe— alas !  I  know  too  well : 
How  in  her  fweet  expreflive  face 

Beam'd  forth  the  beauties  of  her  mind, 
Yet  heighten'd  by  exterior  grace 

Of  manners  moft  engaging,  moft  refin'd : 
No  piteous  objedt  could  fhe  fee, 

But  her  foft  bofom  fhar'd  the  woe, 
Whilft  fmiles  of  affability 

Endear'd  whatever  boon  fh«  might  beftow, 
Whate'er  the  emotions  of  her  heart, 

Still  fhone  confpicuous  in  her  eyesj 
Stranger  to  every  female  art, 

Alike  to  feign,  or  to  difguife : 
And  O  the  boaft  how  rare ! 
The  fecret  in  her  faithful  breaft  repos'd, 
She  ne'er  with  lawlefs  tongue  difclos'd, 
In  facred  filence  lodg'd  inviolate  there. 

0  feeble  words — unable  to  exprefs 

Her  matchlefs  virtue,  or  my  own  diftrefs  J 

Relentlefs  death  !  that,  fteel'd  to  human  woe, 

With  murderous  hands  deals  havoc  on  mankind, 
Why  (cruel !)  ftrike  this  deprecated  blow, 

And  leave  fuch  wretched  multitudes  behind  ? 
Hark  !  groans  come  wmg'd  on  every  breeze  ! 

The  fons  of  grief  prefer  their  ardent  vow ; 
Opprefs'd  with  forrow,  want,  or  dire  difeafc, 

And  fupplicate  thy  aid,  as  I  do  now: 
In  vain — Perverfe,  ftill  on  the  nnweeting  head 
"Tis  thine  thy  vengeful  darts  to  fhed; 
Hope's  infant  bloffoms  to  deftroy, 
And  drench  in  tears  the  face  of  joy. 
Buf  oh,  fell  tyrant !  yet  expect  the  hour 
When  virtue  fhall  renounce  thy  power; 
When  thou  no  more  fhalt  blot  the  face  of  day,   . 
Nor  mortals  tremble  at  thy  rigid  fway, 
Alas !  the  day— where'er  I  turn  my  eyes, 

Some  fail  memento  of  my  lofs  appears ; 

1  fly  the  fatal  houfe— fupprefs  my  fighs," 
-    Refolv'd  to  dry  my  unavailing  tears : 

But,  ah !  In  vain— no  change  of  time  or 

place 

The  memory  <an  efface' 
No 


THE  WORKS  OF  SHAW. 


Of  all  that  fweetnefs,  that  enchanting  air, 
Now  loft ;  and  nought  remains  but  anguifh  and 
defpair. 

Where  were  the  delegates  of  Heaven,  oh  where ! 

Appointed  virtue's  children  fafe  to  keep  ! 
Had  innocence  or  virtue  been  their  care, 

She  had  not  dy'd,  nor  had  I  liv'd  to  weep : 
Mov'd  by  my  tears,  and  by  her  patience  mov'd, 
To  fee  her  force  the  endearing  fmile, 
My  forrows  to  beguile, 
When  torture's  keenelt  rage  ihe  prov'd  ; 
Pure  they  had  warded  that  untimely  dart, 
Which  broke  her  thread  of  life,  and  rent  a  huf- 

band's  heart. 

How  fhall  I  e'er  forget  that  dreadful  hour, 
When,  feeling  death's  refifllefs  power, 
My  hand  ihe  prefs'd,  wet  with  her  falling  tears, 
And  thus,  in  faultering  accents,  ipoke  her  fears  ! 
"  Ah,  my  lov'd  lord,  the  tranfient  fcene  is  o'er, 
"  And  we  muft  part  (alas !)  to  meet  no  more  ! 
<e  But,  oh  !  if  e'er  thy  Emma's  name  was  dear, 
*'  If  e'er  thy  vows  have  charm'd  my  ravifh'd  ear; 
*'  If,  from  thy  lov'd  embrace  my  heart  to  gain, 
"  Proud  friends  have  frown'd,  and  fortune  fmil'd 

"  in  vain ; 

"  If  it  has  been  my  fole  endeavour  flill 
"  To  act  in  all  obfequious  to  thy  will; 
"  To  watch  thy  very  fmiles,  thy  wifli  to  know, 
"  Then  only  truly  bleft  when  thou  wert  fo  : 
"'  If  I  have  doated  with  that  fond  excefs, 
"  Nor  love  could  add,  nor  fortune  make  it  lefs; 
"  If  this  I've  done,  and  more — oh  then- be  kind 
"  To  the  dear  lovely  babe  I  leave  behind. 

When  time  my  once-lov'd  memory  fhall  efface, 
Some  happier  maid  may  take  thy  Emma's  place, 
With  envious  eyes  thy  partial  fondnefs  fee, 
And  hate  it  for  the  love  thou  bore  to  me : 
My  deareft  Shaw,  forgive  a  woman's  fears, 
"  But  one  word  more  (I  cannot  bear  thy  tears) 
"  Projnife— — and  1  will  truft  thy  faithful  vow, 
"  (Oft  have  I  try'd,  and  ever  found  thee  true) 
"  That  to  fome  diftant  fpot  thou  wilt  remove 
*'  This  fatal  pledge  of  haplefs  Emma's  love, 
"  Where  fafe  thy  blandifhments  it  may  partake, 
"  And,  oh !  be  tender  for  its  mother's  fake. 

"  Wilt  thou  ? 

"  I  know  thou  wilt fad  filence  fpeaks  afient, 

*'  And  in  that  pleafing  hope  thy  Emma  dies  con- 
"  tent." 

I,  who  with  more  than  manly  ftrength  have  bere 

The  various  ills  impos'd  by  cruel  fate, 
Suflain  the  firmnefs  of  my  foul  no  more, 

But  fink  beneath  the  weight : 
Juft  Heaven  (I  cry'd)  from  memory's  earlieft  day 

No  comfort  has  thy  wretched  fuppliant  known, 
Misfortune  (till  with  unrelenting  fway 

Has  claim'd  me  for  her  own. 

But  O in  pity  to  my  grief,  reflore 

This  only  fource  of  blifs ;  I  alk— I  afk  no  more— 
Vain  hope — th'  irrevocable  doom  is  part, 

Ev'n  now  fhe  looks — fhe  fighs  her  laft 

Vainly  I  ftrivc  to  ftay  her  fleeting  breath, 
And,  with  rebellious  heart,  proteft  againfb  her 
death. 

When  the  item  tyrant  clos'd  her  lovely  eyes, 
How  did  I  rave,  untaught  to  bear  the  blow ! 
4 


With  impious  wifli  to  tear  her  from  the  ikies  j 

How  curfe  my  fate  in  bitternefs  of  woe  ! 
But  whither  would  this  dreadful  frenzy  lead  ? 
Fond  man,  forbear, 
Thy  fruitlefs  forrow  fpare, 

Dare  not  to  taik  what  Heaven's  high  will  decreed; 
In  humble  reverence  kifs  th'  afflictive  rod, 
And  proftrate  bow  to  an  offended  God. 

Perhaps  kind  Heaven  in  mercy  dealt  the  blow, 

Some  faving  truth  thy  roving  foul  to  teach ; 
To  wean  thy  heart  from  grovelling  views  below, 

And  point  out  blifs  beyond  misfortune's  reach : 
To  ihow  that  all  the  flattering  fchemes  of  joy, 

Which  towering  hope  fo  fondly  builds  in  air, 
One  fatal  moment  can  deftroy, 

And  plunge  th'  exulting  maniac  in  defpair. 
Then,  O  !  with  pious  fortitude  fuftain 
Thy  prefent  lofs— haply,  thy  future  gain  ; 

Nor  let  thy  Emm '.  die  in  vain  ; 
Time  fhall  adminifler  its  wonted  balm, 
And  hufh  this  ftormof  grief  to  no  unpleafing  calm, 

Thus  the  poor  bird,  by  fome  difaft'rous  fate 

Caught  and  imprison'd  in  a  lonely  cage, 
Torn  from  its  native  fields,  and  dearer  mate, 

Flutters  a  while,  and  fpends  its  little  rage : 
But,  finding  all  its  efforts  weak  and  vain, 

No  more  it  pants  and  rages  for  the  plain ; 
Moping  a  while,  in  fullen  mood 

Droops  the  fwect  mourner — but,  ere  long, 
Prunes  its  light  wings,  and  pecks  its  food, 

And  meditates  the  fong : 
Serenely  forrowing,  breathes  its  piteous  cafe, 

And  with  its  plaintive  warblings  faddens  all  the 
place. 

Forgive  me,  Heaven — yet— yet  the  tears  will  flow, 

To  think  how  foon  my  fcene  of  blifs  is  paft ! 
My  budding  joys  juft  promifing  to  blow, 

All  nipt  and  wither'd  by  one  envious  blail ! 
My  hours,  that  laughing  wont  to  fleet  away, 
Move  heavily  along ; 
Where's  now  the  fprightly  jeft,  the  jocund 

fong ; 

Time  creeps  unconfcious  of  delight : 
How  fhall  I  cheat  the  tedious  day  ? 

And  O the  joylefs  night ! 

Where  ihall  I  reft  my  weary  head  ? 

How  ihall  I  find  repofc  on  a  fad  widow'd  bed  ? 

Come,  *  Theban  drug,  the  wretch's  only  aid, 

To  my  torn  heart  its  former  peace  reftore ; 
Thy  votary  wrapp'd  in  thy  Lethean  fhade, 

A  while  ihall  ceafe  his  forrows  to  deplore: 
Haply  when  lock'd  in  ilcep's  embrace, 
Again  I  ihall  behold  my  Emma's  face ; 
Again  with  tranfport  hear 

Her  voice  foft  whifpering  in  my  car ; 

May  fteal  once  more  a  balmy  kifs, 
And  tafte  at  leaft  of  vifionary  blifs. 

But,  ah  !  th'  unwelcome  morn's  obtruding  light 
Will  all  my  ihadowy  fchemes  of  blifs  depofc, 

Will  tear  the  dear  illufion  from  my  fight, 
And  wake  me  to  the  fenfe  of  all  my  woes : 
If  to  the  verdant  fields  I  ftray, 

Alas !  what  pleafures  now  can  thefe  convey  ? 

*  Laudanum, 


POEMS. 


Her  lovely  form  purfues  where'er  I  go, 

And  darkens  all  the  fcene  with  woe. 
By  nature's  lavifh  bounties  cheered  no  more, 

Sorrowing  J  rove, 
Through  valley,  grot,  and  grove; 
Nought  can  their  beauties  or  my  lofs  reftore; 
N<   herb,  no  plant,  can  med'cine  my  difeafe, 
And   my  fad  fighs   are  borne   on  every  paffing 
breeze. 

Sicknefs  and  forrow  hovering  round  my  bed, 

Who  now  wJth  anxious  hafte  fhall  bring  relief, 
With  lenient  Rind  fupport  my  drooping  head, 

AiTuage  my  pains,  and  mitigate  my  grief? 
Should  worldly  bufinefs  call  away, 

Who  now  {hall  in  my  abfence  fondly  mourn, 
Count  every  minute  of  the  loitering  day, 

Impatient  for  my  quick  return  ? 
Should  aught  my  bofom  difcompofe, 

Who  now  with  fweet  complacent  air 

Shall  fmooth  the  rugged  brow  of  care, 
And  foften  all  my  woes  ? 

Too  faithful  memory Ceafe,  O  ceafe • 

How  Ihall  I  e'er  regain  my  peace  ? 
(O  to  forget  her) — but  how  vain  each  art, 
Whilft  every  virtue  lives  imprinted  on  my  heart. 

And  thou,  my  little  cherub,  left  behind, 

To  hear  a  father's  plaints,  to  fhare  his  woes, 
Wh;  a  reafon's  dawn  informs  thy  infant  mind, 
And  thy  fweet-liiping  tongue  fhall  ufe  the  caufe, 
How  oft  with  forrow  fhall  mine  eyes  run  o'er, 
When,  twining  round  my  knees,  I  trace 
Thy  mother's  fmile  upon  thy  face  ? 
How  oft  to  my  full  heart  {halt  thou  reftore 
Sad  memory  of  my  joys — ah  now  no  more  ! 
By  bieflings  once  enjoy'd  now  more  diftreft, 
More  beggar  by  die  riches  once  pofleft. 

My  little  darling ! dearer  to  me  grown 

By  all  the  tears  thou'ft  caus'd — (O  ftrange  to 

hear!) 

Bought  with  a  life  yet  dearer  than  thy  owu, 
Thy  cradle  purchas'd  with  thy  mother'^  bier : 
Who  now  Ihall  feek,  with  fond  delight, 
Thy  infant  fteps  to  guide  aright  ? 
She  who  with  doating  eyes  would  gaze 
On  all  thy  little  artlefs  ways, 
By  all  thy  foft  enikarmcnts  bleft, 
And  clafp  thee  oft  with  transport  to  her  breaft, 

Alas !  is  gone Yet  (halt  thou  prove 

A  father's  deareft,  tendereft  love; 
And  O  fweet  fenfelefs  fmiler  (envied  ftate  !) 
As  yet  unconfcious  of  thy  haplefs  fate, 

When  years  thy  judgment  fhall  mature, 
And  reafon  (hows  thole  ills  it  cannot  cure, 
Wilt  thou,  a  father's  grief  to  affuage, 
For  virtue  prove  the  phcenix  of  the  earth  ? 
(Like  her,  thy  mother  dy'd  to  give  thee  birth) 

And  be  the  comfoit  of  my  age! 
When  lick  and  langutfning-  1  lie, 
Wilt  thou  my  Emma's  wonted  care  fupply  ? 

And  oft  as  to  thy  Hilening  ear 

Thy  mother's  virtues  and  her  fate  I  tell, 

Say  wilt  thou  drop  the  tender  tear, 

Whilft  on  the  mournful  theme  I  dwell  ? 

Then,  fondly  ftealing  to  thy  father's  fide, 

Whene'er  thou  feeft  the  foft  diftrefs, 
Which  1  would  vainly  fcek  to  hide, 
iy,  wilt  thou  itrive  fo-make  it  kfs  ? 


To  footh  my  forrows  all  thy  cares  employ, 
And  in  my  cup  of  grief  infufe  one  drop  of  joy  ? 

AN  EVENING  ADDRESS 

TO   A   NIGHTINGALE. 

SWEET  bird  !  thatj  kindly  perching  near, 
Pour'ft  thy  plaints  melodious  in  mine  ear, 
Not,  like  bale  worldlings,  tutor'd  to  forego 
The  melancholy  haunts  of  woe, 

Thanks  for  thy  forrow-foothing  ftrain : 
For  furely  thou  haft  known  to  prove,  J 

Like  me,  the  pangs  of  haplefs  love, 

Elfe  why  fo  feelingly  complain, 
And  with  thy  piteous  notes  thus  fadden  all  the 
grove  ? 

Say,  doft  thou  mourn  thy  ravifh'd  mate, 

That  oft  enamour'd  on  thy  {trains  has  hung  ? 
Or  has  the  cruel  hand  of  fate 

Bereft  thee  of  thy  darling  young  ? 

Alas  !  for  both  I  weep 
In  all  the  pride  of  youthful  charms, 
A  beauteous  bride  torn  from  my  circling  arms  ! 
A  lovely  babe  that  fliould  have  liv'd  to  blefs, 

And  fill  my  doating  eyes  with  frequent  tears, 
At  once  the  fource  of  rapture  and  diftrefs, 

The  flattering  prop  of  my  declining  years ! 
In  vain  from  death  to  refcue  I  efiay'd, 

By  every  art  that  fcience  could  devife, 
Alas  !  it  languifti'd  for  a  mother's  aid, 

And  wing'd  its  flight  to  feek  her  in  the  fltie»— 
Then  O  !  our  comforts  be  the  fame 

At  evening's  peaceful  hour, 
To  fhun  the  noify  paths  of  wealth  and  fame, 
And  breathe  our  forrows  in  this  lonely  bower. 

But  why,  alas  !  to  thee  complain  ! 

To  thee — unconfcious  of  my  pain  ! 

Soon  fhalt  thou  ceafe  to  mourn  thy  lot  fevere, 

And  hail  the  dawning  of  a  happier  year : 

The  genial  warmth  of  joy-renewing  fpring 
Again  {hall  plume  thy  fliatter'd  wing ; 
Again  thy  little  heart  fhall  tranfport  prove, 
Again  fhall  flow  thy  notes  refponfive  to  tby 

love : 
But  O  for  me  in  vain  may  feafons  roll, 

Nought  can  dry  up  the  fountain  of  my  tears, 
Deploring  ftill  the  comfort  of  my  foul, 
I  court  my  forrows  by  iricreafing  years. 

Tell  me,  thou  fyren  hope,  deceiver,  fay, 

Where  is  the  promis'd  period  of  my  woes  ? 
7ull  three  long  lingering  years  have  roll'd  away, 
And  yet  I  weep,  a  ftranger  to  repofe : 

O  what  delufion  did  thy  tongue  employ  ! 
'  That  Emma's  fatal  pledge  of  love, 

Her  laft  bequeft— with  all  a  mother's  care, 
'  The  bitternefs  of  forrow  fhould  remove, 
Softer-  [he  horrors  of  defpair, 
"  And  cheer  a  heart  long  loft  to  joy  !" 
•low  oft,  when  fondling  in  mine  arms, 
Gazing  cnraptur'd  on  its  angel  face, 
My  foul  the  maze  of  fate  would  vainly  trace, 
And  burn  with  all  a  father's  fond  alarms ! 
nd  O  what  flattering  fcenes  had  fancy  feign' d ! 
•low  did  I  rave  of  blefiirlgs  yet  in  ftore ! 
Till  every  aching  fenfe  was  fweetly  pain'd, 
And  my  full  heart  could  bear,  nor  tongue  sculd 
utter  more.— — — - 
Nn  ij 


THE  WORKS  OF  SHAW. 


"  Juft  Heaven,  I  cry'd"— with  recent  hopes  elate, 

"  Yet  I  will  live— will  live,  though  Emuw'i 

«  dead 

"  So  long  bow'd  down  beneath  the  ftorrns  of  fate, 

"  Yet  will  I  raife  my  woe-deje&ed  head ! 
"  JVIy  little  Emma,  now  my  all, 

"  Will  want  a  father's  care, 
"  Her  looks,  her  wants  my  rafh  refolvcs  recal, 

"  And  for  her  fake  the  ills  of  life  I'll  bear : 
"  And  oft  together  we'll  complain, 

"  Complaint,  the  only  biifs  my  foul  can  know, 
"  From  me  my  child  fhall  learn  the  mournful 
"  ftrain, 

•«  And  prattle  ta.1'  s  of  woe ; 

"  And  O  !  in  that  aufpicious  hour, 
"  When  fate  refigns  her  perfecuting  power, 
"  With  duteous  zeal  her  hand  fhall  clofe, 

"  No  more  to  weep— my  forrow-ftreaming  eyes, 
*•  When  dearh  gives  mifery  repofe, 

"  And  opes  a  glorious  paffuge  to  the  fkies." 

Vain   thought !   it  muft   not  be        She  too  is 

dead 

The  flattering  fcene  is  o'er, 
,My  hopes  for  ever— ever  fled 

And  vengeance  can  no  more 

Crufh'd  by  misfortune— blafted  by  difeafe— 

And  none— none  left  to  bear  a  friendly  part ! 
To  meditate  my  welfare,  health,  or  eafe, 

Or  footh  the  anguifh  of  an  aching  heart ! 
Now  all  one  gloomy  fcene,  till  welcome  death, 

With  lenient  hand  (Q !  falfely  deem'd  fevere) 
Shall  kindly  flop  my  grief-exhaufted  breath, 

And  dry  up  every  tear  : 
Perhaps,  obfequious  to  my  will, 

But,  ah !  from  my  affections  far  remov'd ! 
The  laft  fad  office  ftrangers  may  fulfil, 
As  if  I  ne'er  had  been  belov'd  ; 
As  if,  unconfcious  of  poetic  fire, 
I  ne'er  had  touch'd  the  trembling  lyre; 
As  if  my  niggard  hand  ne'er  dealt  relief, 
Nor  my  heart  melted  at  another's  grief. 

Yet while  this  weary  life  fhall  laft, 

While  yet  my  tongue  can  form  th'  impaffion'd 

ftrain, 

In  piteous  accents  fhall  the  mufe  complain, 
And  dwell  with  fond  delay  on  bleffings  pafl : 
For  O  how  grateful  to  a  wounded  heart 
The  tale  of  mifery  to  impart ! 
From  others'  eyes  bid  artlefs  forrows  flow, 
And  raife  efteem  upon  the  bafe  of  woe ! 
Even  he  *,  the  nobleft  of  the  tuneful  throng, 

Shall  deign  my  love-tern  tale  to  hear, 
Shall  catch  the  foft  contagion  of  my  fong, 
And  pay  my  penfive  mufe  the  tribute  of  a  tear 

THE  RACE, 

BY  MERCURIUS  SPUR,   ESq. 
Witt  Notts,   ty  FauJHniut  ScriLlcrut, 
Acres  procurrunt,  magnum  fpe&aculum ! 
\FirflpubliJbedin  1766.] 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  CRITICS. 

YE  puny  things,  who  felf-important  fit 
The  fov'reigft  arbiters  of  monthly  wit, 

*  Lwi  Lyttlttn. 


Who  gnatling-like  your  flings  arotmd  difpenfe, 
And  feed  on  excrements  of  fickly  fenfe ; 
Ye  gentle  Critics,  whom,  by  Fancy  led, 
My  Pegafus  has  kick'd  upon  the  head, 
Who,  zealous  to  decry  th'  injurious  ftrain, 
While  *  Common- fenfe  has  bled  'at  ev'iy  vein; 
Bewilder'd  wander  on,  with  idio>pride, 
Without  or  -wit  or  grammar  for  your  guide; 
Behold  !  again  I  blot  th'  invenom'd  page, 
Come,  whet  your  tiny  ftings,  exhauft  your  rage: 
Here  wreak  your  vengeance,  here  exert  your  fkill, 
Let  blujfring  Kenrick  draw  his  raven's  quill ; 
My  claims  to  gemus  let  each  dunce  difown, 
And  damn  all  ftrains  more  favour'd  than  their 
own. 

Where  Pegafus,  who  ambled  zlffteen, 
No  lor.ger  fporting  on  the  rural  green,  [plains, 

Rampant  breaks  forth  ;    now   flies  the  peaceful 
And  bounds,  impetuous,  heedlefs  of  the  icins, 
O'er  earth's  vaft  furface,  madly  fcours  along, 
Nor  fpares  a  critic  gaping  in  the  throng ; 
f  Truth  rides  behind,  and  prompts  the  wild  career; 
And,  truth  my  guardian,  what  have  1  to  fear  ? 

Oh,  Truth !  thou  fole  director  of  my  views, 
Whom  yet  I  love  far  dearer  than  the  mufe ! 
Teach  me  myfelf  in  ev'ry  fenfe  to  know, 
Proof  'gainft  th'  injurious  (hafts  of  friend  or  foe. 
When  Imooth-tongu'd  flatterers  my  ears  affail, 
May  my  firm  foul  difdain  the  fulfome  tale ! 
And,  ah  !  from  pride  thy  votive  bard  defend, 
Though  C— n — y  fmile,  or  C— — d  commend ! 
Unmov'd  by  fquibs  from  all  the  fcribbling  throng, 
Whom  thou  proclaim'ft  the  refufe  of  my  fong; 
Still  may  I  fafe  between  the  danger  fixer, 
Of  Scylla-flatt'ry,  and  Charybdis-fcar  ! 
Thofe  foes  to  Genius  (fhould'ft  thou  grant  my 

claim !) 
Thofe  wrecks  alike  of  reafon  and  of  fame. 

THE  RACE. 

AID  me,  feme  honeft  filler  of  the  Nine, 

Who  ne'er  paid  court  at  Flatt'ry's  fulfome  fhrine, 

*  In  jtiflification  of  the  author's  fever ity,  tie  reader 
is  dejired  to  attend  to  tie  Critical  Review  on  thejirj}  cdi-* 
tion  of  this  Poem, -where  be  ii'illjind,comprifedin  a  very 
narro-w  compafs,  a  mrjl  -wonderful  'variety  ef  nonftnfe, 
both  literal  and  metaphorical ;  -where  tbe  Race  is  ingeni- 
etilly  difcovcred  to  be  an  imitation  of  Pope's  Dunciad.—* 
jS/bw,  tbe  only  circumftance  -which  has  tbe  Itajt  reference  to 
that  poem,  is  tbe  hero  s  tumbling  into  a  bog,  -which  is  fas  it 
is  there  acknowledged]  an  exafi  imitation  ofapaffage  in 
Homer,  and  -was  deftgncd  at  the  fame  time  as  ajiroke  of 
raillery  on  one  of  the  injlances  -where  that  immortal  bard 
bus  nodded.— This  tbe  fet  of  Gentlemen  had  not  eyet 
to  fee^  and  ar'  therefore  excufable.  Dr.  South  replied 
to  agentltman,  -who  remonjiratcd  to  him  from  bis  bift>opt 
that  his  ferment  -were  too  -witty,  "  Pray  prefent  my 
"  bumble  duty  to  his  lordjiip,  and  let  him  tonftder,  if 
"  God  Almighty  bad  made  him  a  -wit,  te  could  not  help 
"  it."  Ttffe  gentlemen  certainly  cannot  help  their  hav 
ing  neither  genius  nor  literature ;  but  blockheadt  may 
help  commencing  critics.  F.  SCRIBLERUS. 

f  Pei  haps  fame  half --wilted  critic  may  pertly  inquire, 
ivbyjbould  truth  ride  bettind,  rather  than  before  ?  Soft 
and  fairly  :  certainly  every  man  bat  a  right  to  rfdt 
foremoj}  on  bit  vwn  P'gafui* 


POEMS. 


A  youth  enlighten  with  thy  keeneft  fires, 
Who  dares  proclaim  whate'er  the  mufe  infpircs, 
By  fquint-ey'd  Prejudice,  or  love  inclin'd, 
No  partial  ties  (hall  here  enflave  the  mind : 
Though  fancy  fport  in  fi&ion's  pleating  guife, 
Truth  ftill  confpicuous  through  the  veil  fhall  rife ; 
No  bribe  or  ftratagem  (hall  here  take  place, 
Though  (ftrange  to  tell !)— the  fubject  is  a  Race. 

Unlike  the  Race  which  fam'd  Newmarket  boafts, 
Where  pimps  are  peers'  companions,  whores  their 

toafts, 

Where  jockey-nobles  with  groom  porters  vie, 
Who  bfft  can  hedge  a  bit,  or  cog  a  die. 
Nor  like  the  Race,  by  ancient  Homer  told, 
No  fpears  for  prizes,  and  no  cups  of  gold  : 
A  poets'  Race,  I  fing— a  poet's  prize, 
Who  gold  (a)  and  fighting  equally  defpife. 

To  all  the  rhyming  brethren  of  the  quill 
Fame  fent  her  heralds  to  proclaim  her  will. 
"  Since  late  her  vot'ries  in  abufive  lays 
"  Had  madly  wrangled  for  the  wreath  of  bays; 
"  To  quell  at  once  this  foul  tumultuous  hsat, 
•'  The  day  was  fix'd  whereon  each  bard  fliould 

"  maet. 

«'  Already  had  (he  mark'd  the  deftin'd  ground, 
•'  Where  from  the  goal  her  eager  fons  fhould 
"  There,  by  the  hope  of  future  glory  fed,  [bound, 
"  Prove  by  their  heels  the  prowefs  of  the  head ; 
"  And  he,  who  fleeted  ran,  and  firft  to  fame, 
"  The  chaplet  and  the  victory  ftiould  claim." 
Swiftfpreadthe  grateful  pews  through  all  the  town, 
And  every  fcribbler  thought  the  wreath  his  own. 
No  corporal  defeat  can  now  retard 
The  one-legg'd,  (hort-legg'd,  or  confumptive  bard ; 
Convinc'd  that  legs  or  lungs  could  make  no  odds 
'Twixt  man  and  man,  where  goddefles  or  gods 
Prefided  judges ;  fure  to  have  decreed 
To  dulnefs  (t)  crutches,  and  to  merit  fpeed. 

To  view  the  various  candidates  for  fame, 
Bookfcllers,  printers,  and  their  devils  came. 
Firft  Becket  and  De  Hondt  came  hand  in  hand, 
And  next  came  Nourfe  and  Millar  from  the  Strand; 
Here  Woodfall—  there  the  keeu-ey'd  Scott  appears, 
And  Say  (c)  (oh !  wonderful !)  with  both  his  ears. 
Morley  the  meagre,  with  Moran  the  fat, 
And  Flexney  (</)  with  a  favour  in  his  hat. 

(a)  The  poverty  of  poets  is  a  tvell  Inotvn  adage ;  or, 
t«ff  eat  more  poetically,  their  contempt  of  riches.  They 
alfo  feem  providentially  in  all  ages  to  have  piiffc-Jftd  the 
mojt  pacific  tempers  :  no  doubt,  left  their  lives  Jbould  be 
endangered,  ivbafe  labours  are  fo  conducive  to  tbc  amufe* 
meat  offodety,  Horace  confejjes  bimfclf  a  co-ward: 

Relicta  non  here*  parmula,  &c. 

But  the  moderns  are.  not  quite  fa  ingenuous. 

(b^  The  difcerning  reader  ivill  at  once  be  f infill e  of 
tbt  necejjity  of  tbii  provifo ;  otbtrivift  it  is  to  be  fuppofcJ, 
a  pott  ivitb  a  ivooden  leg,  or  any  bodily  infirmity,  would 
never  bavcjlarted. 

(c)  Mr.  Say's  bildnrfs  in  affirtingany  tbin^  -written 
in  oppafttion  rve*  to  the  mi.iifterial  meafures ,  itiill  rentier 
tbt  meaning  of  tbii  line  fuffciently  obvious  to  the  intelli 
gent  reader. 

(d)  Alluding  to  'be  tujtom  of  tenants  "wearing  ribbons 
in  their  hats  ivhen  the  fauire'i  borfe  ivins  ths  plate ; 
'Mr.  Flexney,  our  hero  s  publijber,  does  the  fawt,  front 
gjlrong  prefumptien  of  bis  author1 1  fucccfs. 


(e)  Williams  and  Kearfley  now  afrefli  begin 

To  curfe  the  croel  walk  that  held  'em  in. 

In  rage  around  his  (hop  poor  Owen  flies, 

Damning  the  Chevalier  who  clos'd  his  eyes; 

"  Oh !  could  he  fee,  this  day,  the  glorious  ftrife, 

"  He'd  grope  contented  all  his  future  life." 

To  Pater-nofter-row  the  tidings  reach, 

And  forth  came  Johnny  Coote  and  Dryden  Leach ; 

Afibciatesin  each  caufe  alike  they  (hare, 

Be  it  to  print  a  primmer  or  Voltaire , 

Thus  leagu'd,  how  fweet  the  friendly  pence  to 

earn, 

Like  gentle  Rofencraus  and  Guildenftern  (/)! 
But  Leach  (g)  where  Churchill  came,  ftill  cautious 

fled,  [head. 

Skulk 'd  through  the  crowd,  and  trembled  for  bis 

With  his  whole  length  of  body  fcarce  a  fpan, 
Yet  aping  all  the  dignity  of  man, 
Next  Vaillant  came ;  ere&  his  dvvarfifh  mien, 
He  perch'd  on  horfeback,  that  he  might  be  feen ; 
And  vow'd,  with  worfhipful   grimace   (b)    and 

din  (•), 
He'd  back  the  pecrlefsbard  (I)  of  Lincoln's-lnn. 

High  on  a  hill,  enthron'd  in  (lately  pride, 
Appear'd  the  Goiddefs ;  while  on  either  fide 
Stood  Vice  and  Virtue— harbingers  of  Fame, 
Tbit  {lamps  a  good,  and  that  an  evil  name. 
On  flow'rs  thick  fcatter'd  o'er  the  mofly  ground. 
The  nymphs  of  Helicon  reclin'd  around ; 
Here,  while  each  candidate  his  claim  preferr'd, 
In  filent  (late  the  Goddefs  fat  and  heard 

Not  far  from  hence,  acrofs.  the  path  to  Fame, 
A  horrid  ditch  appear'd— known  by  the  name 
Of  JBlaci  Oblivion  s  Gulf.    In  former  dayi 
Here  perifh'd  many  a  post  and  his  lays. 
Clofe  by  the  margin  of  the  fable  flood, 
Reviewers  Critical  and  Monthly  Rood 
la  terrible  array,  who  dreadful  frown,         [down. 
And,  arm'd  with  clubs,  hczs  knock  poor  author* 
Merit,  alas!  with  them  is  no  pretence, 
In  vain  the  pleas  of  poefy  or  fenfe; 
All  levell'd  here ;  though  fome  triumphant  rife, 
Shake  off  the  <|iit,  and  feek  their  native  (kies. 
But,  ftrange !  to  Dvlnefs  they  deny  the  crown, 
And  damn  cv'n  works  as  ftupid  as  their  own ! 

(e )  Thefe  two  gentlemen,  at  tbt  time  tbis  poem  ivat 
frjl  publijbed,  were  imprifonedfer  publications  that  -were 
deemed  libellous. 

(/)  T-wo  cbtraclers  in  Hamlet,  <wb:re  onmrver  ap 
pears  without  tbe  etber. 

(g)  From  a  cirtumflanct,  ivlicb  Mr.  Leatb  las  tbt 
beji  reafcn  to  remember  (as  -Me  btld  f tiling  toe  txojl 
perfeB  of  all  tie  ftnfes),  tbe  author,  tnvjl  allow  Mr. 
Churchill  an  excfftion  to  fix  general  rule  of  potts  being 
co-wards,  icLo,for  the  mtj?f>ar!t  are  fonder  of  laying  cu 
their  blows  with  a  pen, than  a  cudgel;  tbaugb  tve  mujl 
confcfs  it  is  a  very  cruel  alternative,  ivhtre  a  frinttr 
mufl  either  f^bait  to  Lave  bit  bead  troie,  «r  run  tbc 
hazard  of  'ofing  bis  ears. 

(/.:)  Tbe  nader  is  nottyfuppofe  Mr.  railiattt  tsaJe 
faces,  but  only  that  be  a/*t*<d  tbt  f  refer  air  ami  conn* 
tenanteefa  ivorjb'-pfulmagijtfate. 

(/)  No  ingloriens  exfiiiffnu,  as  fomt  may  imagine ; 
•u'itncfs  ibe  din  of  war— the  din  «/arnw,  &<.  ttxrcftn 
proper  to  be  employ  td  in  any  ebaraSler  of  conference. 

(>)  A  pbra/e  common  upon  tbc  turi, 
very  at'flitatlt  bere. 


566 


THE   WORKS    OF   SHAW. 


Oh!  be  thh  rage  for  maflacre  withftood, 

Nor  thus  imbrue  your  hands  in  brother's  blood! 

Foremoft,  the  ipite  of  hell  upon  his  face, 
Stood  the  Therfites  of  the  Critic  Race, 
Tremendous  Hamilton  !  Of  giant-ftrength, 
With  Crab-tree  ilafffull  twice  two  yards  in  length. 
(/)  Near  John  o'  Groat's  thatch'd  cot  its  parent 

flood 

Alone,  for  many  a  mile — itfelf  a  wood  ; 
Till  Archy  fpy'd  it,  yet  unform'd  and  wild, 
And  robb'd  the  mother  of  her  talleft  child. 
Ill-omen'd  birds  beheld  with  dire  affright 
Their  rooft  defpoil'd,  and  ficken'd  at  the  fight ; 
The  ravens  croak'd,  pies  chatter'd  round  his  head, 
In  vain, — he  frown'd  !  the  birds  in  terror  fled; 
Perch'd  on  their  thiftlesdroop'd  the  mournful  band : 
Archy  ftalk'd  off,  the  crab-tree  in  his  hand. 

Clofe  wedg'd  behind  in  rank  and  file  were  feen, 
From  Glafgow,  Edinburgh,  and  Aberdeen, 
A  troop  of  Lands  with  fcraps  of  Latin  hung, 
Who  came  to  teach  John  Bull  his  mother  tongue. 
Poor  John  !  who  mull  not  judge  whate'er  he  read 
But  wait  for  fentence  from  thefe  fons  of  Tweed. 

Now  coward  Prudence,  in  the  Mufe's  car 
Whifpers — "  How  dar'ft  thou,  Novice,  perfevere 
"  With  headlong  fury,  to  deftruclion  prone, 
"  (*»)  Roufeyi^W  Dulnefs  yawning  on  her  throne ? 
'f  Thus   madly   bold,    dread'ft   not  the  Harpy's 

"  claw? 

"  Thou,  fcarce  a  morfel  for  fo  vaft  a  maw  ! 
"  Soon  (halt  thou  mourn  thy  ill-ftarr'd  numbers 

"  curft." 

She  fcorns  their  malice,  let  them  do  their  worft. 
Where  Phrebus  cads  not  an  aufpicious  eye, 
The  fick'ning  numbers  of  themfelves  muft  die; 
But  where  true  genius  beams  confpicuous  forth, 
The  candid  few  will  juftify  its  worth ; 
Still  as  it  flows  increasing  in  its  courfe, 
'Till,  like  a  river,  with  refifllefs  force 
Rapid  rolls  down  the  torrent  of  applaufe  ; 
Then,  ftruck  with  fear,  each  puny  wretch  with 
draws, 

Meanly  difclaims  the  paths  he  lately  trod, 
(«)  Belies  himielf,  and  humbly  licks  the  rod. 

Firft  enter'd  in  the  lift  the  laureat  bard, 
And  thus  preferr'd  his  fuit : — '  If  due  reward, ' 
*  Goddefs  ador'd,  to  merit  thou  affign, 
'  Whofe  verfe  fo  fmooth,  whole  claim  fo  juft,  as 
'  mine  ? 


(/)  The  learned  reader  will  not  be  furpr ifed  at  teis 
genealogy  of  ihe  crab-tree  flick  belonging  tofo  illijlrious  a 
character  as  the  printer  of  the  Critical  Review. — It  is 
common,  and  Homer  has  often  done  the  fame,  in  regard  to 
bis  bcro'sfwords  and f pears,  &c.  ' 

(m)  This  alludes  ta  a  part  of  their  criticifm  upon  the 
Race  al>ove-me:;iioned,  •wherein  they  obfzrve,  "  the  author 
has  attacked  bvckfellers,  printers,  and  even  Reviewers 
— ih  !  Prefumptitn  .'•  attack  Re-viewers  .'  a  fet  of  gen 
tlemen  too  /"  We  acknowledge  tbejujlice  of  this  remark, 
andfubmit  to  the  lajb. 

(n~)  Every  ingenuous  mind  mujl  conceive  the  utmojl 
eor.tcmpt  for  modern  criticifm,  by  looking  back  on  the 
treatment  of  the  late  Air.  Churchill,  -where  we  find  the 
very  critics,  who,  at  hisjirjl  appearance  in  public,  -would 
fcarcely  allotu  him  the  tesjl  pretenfions  to  gen'nn,  difa- 
vowin*  tbeif  farmer  proceedings ,  and  meanly  tourtir,g  his 
friend/kip.  See  tbt  Critical  £C--.<KIV  about  iha(  period. 


1  To  thee  my  caufe  I  truft ;  oh,  lend  me  wings,"} 
'  Show  wit  And  fad  to  be  confiftent  things,  / 
'  And  that  he  rhymes  the  bed  who  rhymes  for  f" 

'  kings.'  j 

Lur'd  by  a  foher,  honeft  thirft  for  fame, 
Armftrong  appear'd  to  lay  his  lawful  claim ; 
Armilrong,  whole  mufe  has  taught  the  youth  to 

prove 

(a)  The  fweet  economy  of  health  and  love. 
But,  when  he  faw  what  fpleen  each  bofom  fir'd, 
Forth  from  the  field  he  modeftly  retired. 

Not  fo  repuls'd,  nor  overaw'd  with  fliame, 
Next  Hill  flood  forth,  a  darling  child  of  Fame  ; 
But,  as  to  Juftice,  Fame  herfelf  muft  bow, 
The  poets'  bays  fliall  never  deck  his  brow: 
Elfe  who,  like  Hill,  can  fave  a  fickly  age  ; 
Like  him  arreft  the  hand  of  death  with  fage  (p)  ? 
But  ;  q)  this  the  ancienti  never  knew,  or  fure 
They  ne'er  had  died  while  fagc  remain'd  a  cure. 
Oh,  matchlefs  Hill !  if  aught  the  mufe  forefee 
Of  things  conceal'd  in  dark  futurity, 
Death's  triumph  by  thy  fldll  (hall  foon  be  o'er, 
Hence  dire  diieafe  and  pain  fliall  be  no  more  ; 
'  Tis  thine  to  fave  whole  nations  from  his  maw, 
By  fome  new  TinfJurc  of  a  Bariey-Jlraw. 
He  bow'd,  and  fpoke  : — '  Oh,  Goddefs,  heav'nly 

«  fair  ! 

'  To  thy  own  Hill  now  {how  a  mother's  care ; 
'  If  I  go  unrewarded  hence  away, 
'  What  bard  will  court  thee  on  a  future  day  ? 
'  Who  toils  Uke  me  thy  temple  to  unlock, 
'   By  moral  ej/ays,  rbime,  and  water-dock  ? 
'  With  perfeverance  who  like  me  could  write 
'  Jnfieflor  on  Infpetfor,  night  by  night ; 
'-  Supplying  ftill,  with  unexhaufted  head, 
'  Till  every  reader  flumber'd  as  he  read  ? 
'  No  longer  then  my  lawful  claim  delay.' 
(r*)  She  imil'd — Hill  fimper'd,  and  went  pleas'd 

away. 

Next  Dodfley  fpoke : — «  A  bookfeller  and  bard 
'  May  fure  with  juftice  claim  the  firft  regard. 
'  A  double  merit's  furely  his,  that's  wont 
'  To  make  the  fiddle,  and  then  play  up'on't ; 
'  But  more,  to  prove  beyond  a  doubt  my  claim, 
'  Behold  the  work  on  which  I  build  my  fame ! 

(o)  This  gentleman  has  obliged  the  public  -with  t-wo 
poetical  pieces ;  the  one  intituled,  "  The  Economy  of 
Love;'*  the  other,  "  Htalth  ;"  in  ivbicb  he  has  dif- 
played  great  abilities,  both  in  fentiment  and  diflion. 

(|/>)  It  is  impojlble  to  exprefs  the  obligations  of  the 
public  to  the  author  of  this  dift-o-very .  We  learn  that  the 
ancients  had  indeed  the  art  of  rejloring  youth,  by  cutting 
the  party  to  pieces,  and  bailing  them  in  a  kettle  ;  but  cer 
tainly  the  horror  of  fo  difmal  a  procefs  (could  the  art  be 
revived)  might  deter  a  perfon  of  a  moderate  Jhare  of 
courage  from  receiving  the  benefit  of  it.  But  Dr.  Hill 
has  removed  the  fcruples  of  the  mojl  timorous,  and  has 
pramifed  all  the  good  rffctls  offo  dreadful  an  experiment, 
in  a  dij lover y  both  fimple  and  palatable. 

(q)  A  favourite  exprejfion  of  Dr.  Hill's,  in  all  hit 
advertifements,  is,  "  the  ancients  knew  this,— the 
Greeks  knew  this,  ^fc.  &c. 

(r)  As  the  reader  may  perhaps  af certain  within  him- 
felf  the  future  fuccefs  of 'Dr.  Hill,  from  the  fmile  of  the 
Goddefi,  Leis  defircjtofufper.dbitjui1gment,fnd  conjider 
that  there  are  f miles  of  contempt  as  well  as  ofaffroia- 
iion. 


POEMS. 


*  Search  every  tragic  fcene  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
'  From  ancient  Sophocles  to  modern  Hume ; 

'  Examine  well  the  conducT;,  diction,  plan, 

*  And  match,  then  match  Cleone,  if  you  can. 


567 


and  heartfelt "^ 
mighty  woes,  r" 

rice,/*/  J 


Such  fad  complaints  and  tears,  and  heaitfelt 

'  throes, 

'  Sorrows  fo  -wet  (j)  and  dry,  fuch  mi; 
'  Too  big  for  utt'rance  e'en  in  tragi 

Next  Smollet  came.    What  author  dare  reftft' 
Hiftorian,  critic,  bard,  and  novellift  ? 
'  To  reach  thy  temple,  honour'd  Fame,'  he  cried, 
*  Where,  where's  an  avenue  I  have  not  tried  ? 
'  But  fince  the  glorious  prefcnt  of  to-day 
'  Is  meant  to  grace  alone  the  poet's  lay, 
'  My  claim  I  wave  to  ev'ry  art  befide, 
'  And  reft  my  plea  upon  the  Regicide  (f). 


*  But  if,  to  crown  the  labours  of  my  mufe, 

'  Thou,  inaufpicious,  fhould'ft  the  wreath  refufe, 

*  Whoe'er  attempts  it  in  this  fcribbling  age, 

'  Shall  feel  the  Scottifh  pow'rs  of  Critic  rage; 
'  Thus  fpurn'd,  thus  difappointed  of  my  aim, 
'  I'll  ftand  a  bugbear  in  the  road  to  Fame  ; 
'  Each  future  minion's  infant  hopes  undo, 
'  And  blaft  the  budding  honours  of  his  brow.' 

He  faid  —  and,  grown  with  future  vengeance  big, 
(x)  Grimly  he  fhook  his  fcientific  wig. 

To  clinch  the  caufe,  and  fuel  add  to  fire, 
Behind  came  Hamilton,  his  trufty  fquire. 
A  while  be  paus'd,  revolving  the  difgrace, 
And  gath'ring  all  the  honors  of  his  face  ; 
Then  rais'd  his  head,  and  turning  to  the  crowd, 
Burfl  into  bellowing    terribie  and  loud. 
Hear  my  refolve,  and  firfl  by  G  —  I  fwear  — 
By  Smollet,  and  his  gods  ;  whoe'er  fhall  dare 
With  him  this  day  for  glorious  fame  to  vie 
Sous'd  in  the  bottom  of  the  ditch  lhall  lie  ; 
And  know,  the  world  no  other  lhall  confefs 
Whilft  1  have  crab-tree,  life,  or  letter-prefs.' 
Spar'd  at  the  menace,  authors  fearful  grew, 
Poor  Virtue  trembled,  and  e'en  (y)  Vice  look'd 

blue. 

Next  Wilkes  appear'd,  vain  hoping  the  reward, 
A  glorious  patriot,  an  inglorious  bard, 
Yet  erring,  fhot  far  wide  of  Freedom's  mark, 
And  rais'd  a  flame  in  putting  out  a  fpark: 

(j)  In  feruling  tie  above  piece,  tie  readers  may  ob- 
ferve  the  different  effects  ef  grief  litre  mentioned,  ivhere 
one  cbaraficr  complains  of  being  droivned  in  tears,  and 
another  that  he  cannot  Jked  any. 

(f)  A  Tragedy  -written  by  Dr.  S.  and  printed  liy 
fnbfcription,  but  never  ailed.  See  "  Companion  to 
the  Playhoufe,"  F«l.  I. 

(K)  The  reader  is  to  fuppofi  that  thefe  ajlerifls  mujf 
certainly  mean  famething  of  the  ittmo/l  confequence.  — 
ft  is  exaftly  of  the  fume  kind  with  the  Hank  page  in 
"  'triflram  Shandy." 

(x)  Annuit  et  totumnutu  tremefecit  Olympum. 

VIRGIL. 

(y]  As  pale  it  an  epithet  that  charafferifes  the  fear 
tf  mortals,  tl>J  author  has  matte  life  of  the  Poetica  Li- 
centja,  in  making  a  g'JJefs  turn  blue. 


Near  to  the  throne,  with  filent  ftep  he  came, 
To  whifper  in  her  ear  his  filthy  claim; 
But,  ruin  to  his  hopes  !  behind  ftood  near, 
With  fiVd  attention  and  a  greedy  ear, 
A  fneaking  pritft,  who  heard,  and  to  the  crowd 
Blabb'd,  with  mojl grievous  jfceal,  the  talc  aloud. 
The  peaceful  Nine,  whom  nothing  lefs  could  vex, 
Flew  on  the  vile  aflfaflin  of  the  fex, 
Difown'd  all  knowledge  of  his  brutal  lays, 
(2)  And  fcratch'd  the  front  intended  for  the  Lays. 
Here  Johnfon   comes — unbleft   with   outward 

grace, 

His  rigid  morals  ftamp'd  upon  his  face, 
While  ftrong  conceptions  llruggle  in  his  brain 
(For  even  wit  is  brought  te  bed  with  pain). 
To   view   him,  porters   with  their  loads  would 

reft, 

And  babes  cling  frighted  to  the  nurfe's  breaft. 
With  looks  convuls'd,  he  roars  in  pompous  ftrain, 
And,  like  an  angry  lion,  fhakes  his  mane. 
The  Nine,  with  terror  ftruck,  who  ne'er  had  fcen 
Aught  human  with  fo  horrible  a  mien, 
Debating,  whether  they  mould  flay  or  run- 
Virtue  Heps  forth,  and  claims  him  for  her  fon. 
With  gentle  fpeech  fhe  warns  him  now  to  yield, 
Nor  flain  his  glories  in  the  doubtful  field : 
But,  wrapt  in  confcious  worth,  content  fit  down, 
Since  Fame  refolv'd  his  various  pleas  to  crown, 
Though  forc'd  his  prefent  claim  to  difavow, 
Had  long  referv'd  a  chapkt  for  his  brow. 
He  bows ;  obeys — for  Time  (hall  firft  expire, 
Ere  Johnfon  flay,  when  Virtue  bids  retire. 

Next  Murphy  filence  broke: — «  Oh,  Goddefs 

'  fair! 

'  To  whom  1  ftill  prefer  my  daily  pray'r; 
'  For  whofe  dear  fake  I've  fcratch'd  my  drowfy 

'  head, 

'  And  robb'd  alike  the  living  and  the  dead ; 
'  Stranger  to  fear,  have  plung'd  through   thick 

'  and  thin, 

'  And  Fleet-ditch  -virgins  dragg'd  to  Lincoln's- Inn; 
,  Smile  on  my  hopes,  thy  favour  let  me  ftiare, 
'   And  mow  mankind  Hibernia  boafts  thy  care." 
Here  ftopp'd  he,  interrupted  quick  by  Jones, 
A  poet,  raib'd  from  mortar,  brick  and  ftones. 
'  Goddefs,'  he  cries,  '  reject  his  pitch-patch  worl, 
'    (a)  He  ivas  a  butter-feller's  boy  at  Cork; 
'  On  me  beftow  the  prize,  on  me,  who  came 
'  From  my  dear  country  in  purfuit  of  fame  : 
'  For  thus  advis'a  Maecenas  (bcft  of  men)  : 
"  Jones,  drop  the  trowel,  and  aflame  the  pen; 
"  The  Mufes  thrive  not  ip  this  barren  foil, 
"  Come,  feck  with  me,    fair    Albion's  happier 

ifle; 

«  There  fhall  the  theatres  increafe  thy  ftore, 
"  And  EfTex  bleed  to  make  thy  purfe  run  o'er.'' 
«  Thus  have  I  fondly  left  the  mafon's  care, 
«  To  build  imaginary  tow'rs  i"  th'  air  ; 

(z)  A  poet  enamoured  of  tj'-vious  fitniles,  toould  cer 
tainly  ba-ve  compared  this  u&on,  for  the  honour  of 
the  lex,  to.  an  outrage  of  ten  committed  by  the  female  mo 
bility,  from  a  motive  Jlitl  mere  inter ejling  , — but  our 
author  has  det  lined  the  comparifnn,  out  of  refpecl  to  ihe 
•virgin-delicacy  of  the  Mules  ;  Mid  the  reader  will  fur 
thermore  obfervet  that  their  fu^rs  rove  no  Itnuer  rf.'T 
his  forehead. 

(a}   Six  the  «  Picklock,"  a  fiwi'.cvi  feetn. 
N  n  iiij 


568 


THE  WORKS   OF   SHAW. 


'  Then,  fince  my  golden  hopes  have  prov'd  a  cheat, 

•  (£)  Oh,  give  him  Fame,  whom  Fate  forbids  to 

«  eat; 

*  This,  this  at  leaft  to  me  forlorn  fupply, 
{  I'll  live  contented  on  a  farthing  pye.' 

Next  in  the  train  advanc'd  a  Highland  lad, 
Array'd  in  brogues  and  Caledonian  plaid, 
Surrounded  by  his  countrymen,  while  loud 
The  $  Britifli  Homer  rang  through  all  the  cr»wd. 
Then  he  with  mickle  pride  and  uncouth  air 
His  bonnet  doff'd,  and  thus  preferred  his  pray'r : 
'  Oh,  Fame !  regard  me  with  propitious  eyes, 
Give  me  to  feize  this  long-contefted  prize ; 
In  epic  lines  I  fhine,  the  king  of  verfe ; 
From  torn  and  tatter'd  fcraps  of  ancient  Erfe, 
'Tis  mine  a  perfect  pile  to  raife,  for  all 
Muft  own  the  wond'rous  ftructure  of  Fingal !' 
No  lefs  a  miracle,  than  if  a  Turk 
A  tnofque  fliould  raife  up  of  Mofaic  work. 

Next  Mallet  came ;  Mallet  who  knows  each  art, 
The  ear  to  tickle,  and  to  footh  the  heart ; 
Who,  with  a  goofe-quill,  like  a  magic  rod, 
Transforms  a  Scottifli  peer  into  a  god. 
Oh !  matchlefs  Mallet,  by  one  ftroke  to  clear, 
One  lucky  ftroke,  four  hundred  pounds  a-year  ! 
Long  round  a  Court  poor  Gay  dependent  hung, 
(And  yet  moft  (c)  trimly  has  the  poet  fung) 
Twice  fix  revolving  years  vain-hoping  paft, 
And  unrewarded  went  away  at  laft. 

Again  dame  prudence  checks  the  madd'hing 

ftrain, 
And  thus  advifes,  wifely,  though  in  vain  : 

"  Ah,  Spur  !  enlifted  in  a  lucklefs  caufe, 
"  Who,  pelf  defpifing,  feeks  for  vain  applaufe, 
"  Thy  will  how  ftubborn,  and  thy  wit  howfmall, 
"  To  think  a  mufe  can  ever  thrive  on £/»/// 
"  Then  timely  throw  thy  venom'd  fhafts  afide, 
«  Choofe  out  forne  fool  blown  up  with  pow'r  and 

"  pride — 

"  Be  flattery  thy  arro-w,  this  thy  butt, 
"  And  praife  the  devil  for  his  cloven  foot." 

The  counfel's  good; — but  how  fhall I  fubfcribe, 
Who  fcorn  to  flatter,  and  deleft  a  bribe  ? 

In  voice  moft  weak,  in  fentiment  moft  ftrong, 
Like  Milton  murder'd  iu  an  eunuch's  fong, 
With  honefty  no  malice  e'er  could  fhame, 
With  prejudices  hunger  ne'er  could  tame, 

(J)  It  is  a  mortification  to  -which  the  prof 'effed patrons 
tf  merit  muji  ever  be  liable,  to  have  their  benevolence 
abufed,  and  their  hopes  deceived;— but  great  fouls  have 
no  limits,  or  rather  difdain  any,  -which  is  -well  exprejjed 
by  Voltaire: 

Repandez  vos  bienfaits  avec  magnificence^ 
Meme  au  moins  vertueux  ne  les  refufez  pas, 

Ne  vous  informez  pas  de  leur  reconnoiflance, 
II  eft  grand,  il  eft  beau,  de  faire  des  ingrats. 

J  There  is  indeed  an  air  of  originality,  -which,  to 
a  literary  virtuofo,  renders  Fingal  -worthy  of  notice, 
But  I  am  afraid  the  North-Britons  cannot  eaftly  be  ac 
quitted of  'national  partiality  ;  -who,  iriftead  of  a  bonnet 
end  tbijlle,  -zvbicb  -would  have  been  no  intompetent  re- 
ivard,  have  'inftfted  on  hit  right  t»  a  crown  of  laurel. 

(*)  He  told  me,  once  upon  a  day, 

Trim  are  thy  fonnets,  gentle  Gay.        GAT. 


With  judgment  fometlmcs  warp'd,  but  oft  refin'df, 
Next  Cleland  came— the  champion  of  mankind  ! 
Who  views,  contented  with  his  little  ftate, 
Wealth  fquander'd  by  the  partial  hand  of  fate. 
And,  whilft  dull  rogues  the  joys  of  life  partake, 
Lives,  a  great  patriot— on  a  mutton  jleah  ! 

Dreaming  of  genius,  which  he  never  had, 
Half-wit,  half-fool,  half-critic,  and  half-mad ; 
Seizing,  like  Shirley,  on  the  poet's  lyre,     ," 
With  all  the  rage,  but  not  one  fpark  of  fire ; 
Eager  for  flaughter,  and  refolv'd  to  tear 
From  others'  brows  that  wreath  he  muft  not 

wear, 

Next  Kenrick  came ;  all-furious,  and  replete 
With  brandy,  malice,  pertnefs,  and  conceit. 
Unfkill'd  in  claflic  lore,  through  envy  blind 
To  all  that's  beauteous,  learned,  or  refin'd, 
For  faults  alone  behold  the  favagc  prowl, 
With  reafon's  offal  glut  his  rav'ning  foul, 
Pleas'd  with'his  prey,  its  inmoft  blood  he  drinks, 
And  mumbles,  paws,  and  turns  it— till  it  {links. 
Ere<5l  he  flood,  nor  deign'd  one  bow  to  Fame, 
Then  bluntly  thus:—'  Will.  Kenrick  is  my  name. 
'  Who  are  thefe  minions  crowding  to  thy  fane  ? 
"  Poets  !  'Pfhaw  !  fcribblers,  impotent  and  vain  ; 
'  The  chaplet's  rnine^I  claim  it,  who  inherit 
'  (d)  Dennis's  rage,  and   Milbourne's  glorious 

'  fpirit.' 

Struck  with  amazement,  Fame,  who  ne'er  had  feeD 
A  face  fo  brazen,  and  fo  pert  a  mien, 
Calmly  replied,  '  Vain-boafter,  go  thy  way, 
'  And  prove  more  furious  and  more  dull  than  they.* 
Then  Brown  appear'd— with  fuch  an  air  he 

mov'd, 

And  fhow'd  him  confident  and  felf-approv'd. 
Poor  injur'd,  honour'd  Pope  !  die  bard  on  thee 
(?)  Has  clapp'd  a  nifty  lock  without  a  key  : 
Thus,  when  enraptur'd,  we  attempt  to  rove 
Through  all  the  fweets  of  thy  Pierian  grove, 
The  gate,  alas !  is  ftrongly  barr'd  :  and  all 
That  tafte  the  fweets  muft  climb  the  rugged  wall. 
Rev'rent  he  bow'd,   and  thus  addrefs'd  the 

throne : 

One  boon,  oh !  grant  me,  and  the  day's  my  own ! 
When  the  flirill  trumpet  calls  the  rival  train 
To  fcour  with  nimble  feet  the  dufty  plain, 
Let  not  the  dread  profeflbr  Lowth  appear 
To  freeze  thy  vot'ry's  fhiv'ring  foul  with  fear, 
Tear  the  fine  form,  perhaps,  of  all  I've  writ, 
And  drown  me  in  a  deluge  of  his  wit.' 
Next  Vaugh'n  appear'd ;  he  fmil'd,  and  ftrok'd 

his  chin, 

And,  pleas'd  to  think  his  carcafe  was  fo  thin, 
So  moulded  for  the  Race,  while  felf-dubb'd  worth, 
Beam'd  from  his  eyes,  he  hemm'd — and  thus  held 
forth : 


(d)  Dennis  and  Milbourne,  two  things  called  Critics, 
damned  to  immortality  for  being  the  perfeeutors  of  Dry  den 
and  Pope, 

(*)  Alluding  to  the  "  EJfay  on  Satire"  prefixed  tit 
tbefecond  volume  of  Pope's  Worts,  -which  the  reader  of 
no  difcernment  might  mijlakefor  the  production  cf  that 
immortal  genius,  unlefs  be  is  lucky  enough  to  fumble  upon 
the  title-page.  It  has  often  been  a  matter  of  aftonifiment, 
bovi  it  came  there  ;  as  there  is  no  fuch  privilege  in  Mr, 
Pope's  -will,  bequeathed  t»  tie  editor,  togttber  with  tit 
property  of  his  -works, 

5 


POEMS. 


Goddefs,  your  flave ; — 'tis  true  I  draw  the  quill 
(_/')  Sometimes  through  anger,  not  to  {how  my 

'  Dull; 

Yet  all  muftown,  fpite  of  the  (g)  Bear's  report, 
There's  obvious  merit  in  my  keen  retort  : 
Though  Flexncy  (oh!  his  ignorance  confound  !) 
Sells  its  contents  to  grocers  by  the  pound, 
And,  deaf  to  genius,  and  its  pleas  to  fame, 

•     Puts  it  to  purpofes unfit  to  name. 

Then,  fince  no  Profit  from  the  mufe  I  draw, 
You  can't  refufe  me  fraife,  and  fo  your  ta — !' 
The  Goddefs  laugh' d — and  who  could  well  con 
tain, 
To  fee  fuch  foplings  fldp  around  her  fane  ? 

Next  Churchill  came—his  face  proclaim'd  a 

heart, 

That  fcorn'd  to  wear  the  fmooth  addrefs  of  art, 
Strongly  mark'd  out  that  firm  unconquer'd  foul, 
Which  nought  on  earth  could  bias  or  controul. 
He  bow'd — when  all  fneer  at  his  want  of  grace  (A), 
And  uncouth  form,  ill-fuited  to  the  Race ; 
While  he  contemptuous  finil'd  on  all  around, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  her  in  a  (/)  voice  profound  : 

'  Goddefs,  thefe  gnatlings  move  not  me  at  all, 
«  I  come  by  juft  decrees  to  ftand  or  fall. 

*  When  firft  the  daring  bard  afpires  to  fing, 
'  To  check  the  fallies  of  his  infant  wing, 

*  Critics  not  only  try  (your  pardon,  Fame, 

*  To  you  a  ftranger  is  the  critic's  name), 

'  But  every  blockhead,  who  pretends  to  write, 

*  Would  damp  his  vigour,  and  retard  his  flight. 

1  Critics,  oh  Fame !  are  things  compos'd  between 

*  The  two  ingredients,  Ignorance  and  Spleen  ; 

*  Who,  like  the  Daw,  would  infamoufly  tear 
'  The  fliining  plumes  they  fee  another  wear, 

*  That,  thus  unfeather'd  by  thefe  wretched  elves, 

*  All  may  appear  as  naked  as  themfelves. 

'  Hard  is  the  talk  in  fuch  a  caufe  t'  engage 

*  With  fools  and  knaves  eternal  war  to  wage, 

*  By  fears  or  partial  feelings  unfubdu'd, 

*  To  hurl  defiance  at  f»  vaft  a  crowd ; 

'  To  ftand  the  teizing  of  their  little  fpleen, 
'  So  oft  to  clear  the  witling-crowded  fcene  ; 
'  From  vice  and  folly  tear  the  foul  difguife, 

*  And  crufh  at  once  the  hydras  as  they  rife. 
'  Yet  on  I  will — unaw'd  by  flavilh  fears, 

*  Till  gain'd  the  glorious  point,  or  loft  my  ears.' 

Next  from  the  temple  fix  poetic  cubs, 
With  him  whofe  humble  mufe  delights  mjbrubt, 
And  commentator  Fawkes — let  Woty  tell, 
Alone  who  fees,  how  much  he  can  excel, 


r  (f)  Facit  Indignatio  Verfus.]  Let  no  one  pretend 
to  fay,  that  even  anger  hat  not  its  good  effefts,ftnce  -we 
<noe  the  immortal  lutrki  both  of  a  Juvenalanda  Vaugban 
to  their  being  roufed  by  afpirit  ofrefentntent. 

{g )  A  name  by  -which  the  late  Mr.  Churchill  -was 
dijtingui/bed,  on  account,  at  tuc  fuppofe,  of  the  rough 
manner  in  -which  hi  bandied  the  gentle  bardt  ivho  tvcre 
Jo  unlucky  at  to  come  -within  reach  of  bis  poetical  paws. 

(A)  Not  fpirituul  grace,  but  grace  in  mating  a  bo-w ; 
or,  if  the  reader  mujl  be  let  into  tbefecret,  this  may  refer 
to  the  cavils  of  the  critics  in  general,  againjlthe  anharmo- 
nioufnefs  of  bit  Humbert. 

(»)  Mr.  CburcLill,  at  a  fchtlar,  is  here  fuppofed 
•well  acquainted  -with  that  general  maxim  in  oratory, 
Loquere  ore  rotundo,  which  it  here  rendered  a  voice 
profound. 


Who  wipes  all  doubts  From  facred  texts  away, 

Clear  as  the  flcies  upon  a  mifty  day ; 

Bard,  critic,  and  divine — with  upturn'd  eyes 

Dejected  Virtue  to  the  Goddefs  cries, 

"    IVbqt  ivtys  and  means  for  raiftng  thefufpliej  /'* 

Awhile  demurring  who  fhould  move  the  pleas, 
Fawkes  claim'd   the   right,   from  having    ta'en 

degrees  ; 

f  Combin'd,  dear  Woty,  fure  we  ne'er  can  fail, 
'  I'll  fpeak — do  thou  hold  up  the  caffock's  tail.' 
He  hemm'd — then  haw'd — then  bow'd,  and  thu$ 

began: 

«  Oh  Fame !  propitious  view  the  friendly  plan : 
1  See  Lain  on  Gofpel,  caft  a  focial  look, 
'  And  Mofes  fide  with  Littleton  and  Coke : 
'  Let  not  a  partnerfhip,  unknown  before, 
'  In  vain  for  favour  and  the  bays  implore ; 
'  But  guide  thy  vot'ry's  feet  acrofs  the  plain, 
'  While  gentle  Woty  bears  the  fable  train  ; 
«  And  crown'd  with  conqueft,  amply  to  reward 
'  So  mean  an  office  in  fo  great  a  bard, 
'  Six  days  in  feven  I'll  thq  wreath  refign, 
'  Only  on  Sundays  be  its  honours  mine.' 

Rev'rent  he  bow'd — then  BickerftafF  advanc'd, 
His  Sing-Song-Mufc,  by  vaft  fuccefs  enhanc'd ; 
Who,  when   fair   Wright,  deftroying    Reafon'a 

fence, 

Inveigles  our  applaufe  in  fpite  of  fenfe, 
With  fyren- voice  our  jufter  rage  confounds, 
And  clothes  fwcet  nonfenfe  in  delufive  founds, 
Pertly  commends  the  judgment  of  the  town, 
And  arrogates  the  merit  as  his  own  ; 
Talks  of  his  tafte  !  how  well  each  air  was  hit ! 
While  printers  and  their  devils  praife  his  wit ; 
And,  wrapp'd  in  warm  furtout  of  felf-conceit, 
Defies  the  critics  cold,  and  poet's  heat. 

He  ey'd  the  rabble  round,  and  thus  began  ; 
«  Goddefs !  I  wonder  at  the  pride  of  man  ! 
'  Fellows,  whofe  accents  never  yet  have  hung 
'  On  ikilful  Beard's  or  Brent's  harmonious  tongue, 
'  Dare  here  approach,  (;f )  -who  chatter  Hie  a  parrot, 
'  (i)  But  hardly  knoiu  a  Jbeep's  head  from  a  carrot. 
1  Whofe  taftelefs  lines  ne'er  grac'd  a  royal  ftage, 
1  Nor  charm'd  a  tuneful  crotchet-loving  age ! 
'  Prove  then,  oh  Goddefs !  to  my  labours  kind, 
'  And  let  the  fons  of  Dulaefs  lag  behind, 
'  While'  (/)  hoity  tatty,  "wbifty  frifty ,  £ 
'  On  ballad-wings  fpring  forth  to  victory." 

So  fure  ! — but  juftice  flops  thee  in  thy  flight. 
And  damns  thy  labours  to  eternal  night. 
Brands  that  fuccefs  which  boafts  no  juft  pretence 
To  genius,  judgment,  wit,  or  common  fenfe; 
But  who  for  tafte  fliall  dare  prefcribe  the  laws, 
Or  ftop  the  torrent  of  the  mob's  applaufe  ? 

In  thought  (OT)  fublim'd,  next  Elphiufton  came 

forth, 

And  thus  harangu'd  the  Goddefs  on  his  worth: 
'  'Tis  mine,  oh  Fame !  full  fraught  with  Attia  loret 
1  Long-loft  pronunciation  to  reftore, 
«  Of  letters  to  reform  each  vile  abufe, 
«  And  faring  the  Grecian  («)  kappa  into  ufc. 

(I)  See  Love  in  a  Village^  an  Opera. 

(/)  Ibid. 

(«)  A  favourite  -word  of  this  author.  See  Education^ 
a  Poem. 

(«)  Mr.  ElpLinflon  intends  Jlortly  to  lay  before  tbt 
public  hit  reafons  for  giving  C  alivays  the  found  ff  tbt 


57° 


THE  WORKS   OF   SHAW. 


4  Tully  once  m»re  his  proper  name  fliall  know, 

'  Reftor'd  its  ancient  found  of  Kikero. 

'  Firft,  from  my  native  tongue,  'tis  mine  t'  expel 

«  The  fuperfluities  of  £  (o)  and  L  -, 

'  T'  unveil  the  long-conceal'd  recefs  of  truth, 

1  And  teach  betimes  to  bend  the  pliant  youth  ; 

*  To  point  the  means  of  proper  recreation, 
f  And  prove  no  (/>)  ivhetter  equals  emulation: 
'  In  fong  didactic  as  I  move,  to  draw 

'  The  (q~)  proper  rules  forjiudy  and  for  taw ; 

*  In  tafte  for  facred  writings  to  refine  us, 

*  And  (r)  fhow  the  odds  'twixt  Daniel  and  Lon- 

'  ginus; 

'  To  criticife,  inftruct,  and  prove,  in  metre 
«  Tully's  (j)  a  perfect  blockhead  to  St.  Peter  : 

*  Deign  then,  oh  Fame !   (<)  tofatisfy  my  lore, 

*  Who've  wrote  as  mortal  man  ne'er  wrote  before, 
'  Broke  through  all  pedant  rules  of  mood  and 

'  fenfe, 
'  And  nobly  foar'd  beyond  the  reach  of  fenfe.' 

He  bow'd : — then  Arne  fwift  bolted  through 

the  throng, 

Renown'd  for  all  the  various  pow'rs  of  fong: 
Sweet  as  the  Thracian's,  whofe  melodious  woe 
IVIov'd  the  ftern  tyrant  of  the  fhades  below ; 
Or  that,  by  which  the  faithlefs  fyren  charms, 
And  woos  thefailor  fliipwreck'd  in  her  arms : 
Soft  as  the  notes  which  Phoebus  did  employ 
To  raife  the  glories  of  ill-fated  Troy ; 
Or  thofe  which  banifh'd  Reafon  could  recal, 
And  bring  the  devil  cap'ring  out  of  Saul. 

But,  not  contented  with  his  crotchet-praife, 
Lo !  he  adventures  for  the  poet's  bays  ! 

No  more  is  genius  rear'd  in  claflic  fchools, 
But  falls,  like  fortune,  on  the  head  of  fools : 
Dull  dogmas,  thunder'd  from  the  pedant's  mouth, 
No  more  fhall  tire  the  ear-belabour'd  youth; 
Since  bards  now   fpring   without   the   pains    of 
lajhing,  [thrajking. 

Like   Arne   and  Duck,    from  fddling  and  from 

'  Oh,  Fame,'  he  cries, '  with  kind  attention  hear 

*  The  caufe  why  I  thy  candidate  appear. 

«  Ere  yettk'  out-wilted  Guardian  crawl'd  to  light, 

*  («)  Four  fmother'd  brats  I  doom'd  to  endlefs 

'  night ; 
'  Abafll'd,  left  any  thing  lefs  fair  fhould  prove 

*  Unworthy  Arne,  and  thy  maternal  love. 

*  But  here  behold  a  babe,  to  whom  belong 
'  The  double  gifts  of  eloquence  and  fong ; 

Grecian  Kttwce,,  -which  ivill  certainly  giiie  a  foftnefs 
and  dignity  to  the  exprejpons   of  many  other  ivords  in 
tur  language,  as  -well  as  this  injlanced  by  the  author. 
(o)  For  where  thou  liv'ft  I  live,  where  di'ft  I  dy, 
Joint  as  we  {land,  unfever'd  fhall  we  ly. 

EDUCATION, 

Nor  boafted  felfifh  dulnefs  focial  flame.    IBID. 
(j>~)  Some  plea  might  urge  clandeftine  education, 
But  where's  a  whetter  like  my  emulation  ? 

ISID. 

(?)  Nay  deign  a  tender  fmile  on  humble  taw.  IBJD. 

(r)  Hail,  Daniel !  with  the  captive  victors  three  ! 

How  is  Longinus  felf  to  them  and  thee  ?  IBJD. 

(j)  Ne'er  ihall  keen  Tully  catcha  Peter's  fire.  IBJD. 

(*)  — fatisfy  her  lore, 

With  pleafing  food,  but  let  her  pant  for  more. 

IBID. 
fi/y  See  tbe  Preface  to  tie  "  Guardian  Outwitted." 


*  Who,  not  like  other  infants  born  or  bred, 
'  Sprung  forth,  like  Pallas,  from  its  daddy's  head, 
'  On  me,  then,  Fame,  oh !  let  thy  favours  fall, 
'  And  fhow  that  Tommy  Arne  outwits  'em  all !' 

Here  Fr s  rais'd  his  head,  though  laft  not 

leaft, 

A  wanton  poet,  and  a.folemn  prieft  ; 
By  turns  through  life  each  character  we  mark, 
A  prieft  by  day,  a  poet  in  the  dark; 
Yet  each  at  will  the  Proteus  can  forfake, 
Now  politician,  now  commences  rake ; 
Nay  worft — (if  Fame  fay  true)  panders  for  love, 
And  acts  the  Merc'ry  to  a  luftful  Jove. 
Now  grave  he  fits,  and  checks  th'  unhallow'd  jeft, 
Whilft  his  fage  precepts  cool  each  am'rous  breaft ; 
Now  ftrips  the  priefts  difguife,  awakes  defire, 
Tells  the  lewd  tale,  and  fans  the  dying  fire  : 
All  poz'd,  defpair  his  character  to  paint, 
And  wonder  how  the  dev'l  they  loft  the  faint ! 
Next  from  the  different  theatres  came  forth 
A  fcore  at  leaft,  of  felf-fufficient  worth  ; 
Each  claims  the  chaplet,  or  protefts  his  wrong, 
A  prologue' this  had  wrote,  and  that  a  fong ; 
Forth  from  the  crowd  a  general  hiffing  flies, 
To  fee  fuch  triflers  arrogate  the  prize  ; 
But  fully  bent  this  day  the  Goddefs  came, 
To  hear  with  patience  every  coxcomb's  claim. 

Here  endlefs  groups  on  groups  from  every  ftreet, 
Popes,  Shaldpeares,  Jonfons, — in  their  own  con 
ceit, 

With  hopes  elate  advance,  and  ardour  keen, 
Whom  not  one  mufe  had  ever  heard  or  feen ; 
Who  (till  write  on,  though  hooted  and  difgrac'd, 
And  damn  the  public  for  their  want  of  tafte. 

Oh,  Vanity  !  whofe  far-extended  fway 
Nations  confefs,  and  potentates  obey, 
How  vaft  thy  reign ! — Say,  where,  oh  !  where's 

the  man 

His  own  defects  who  boldly  dares  to  fcan, 
Juft  to  himfelf  ?— Ev'n  now,  whilft  I  incline 
To  paint  the  vot'ries  kneeling  at  thy  fhrine, 
Whilft  others  follies  freely  I  impart, 
Thy  power  refiftlefs  flutters  round  my  heart, 
Prompts  me  this  common  weaknefs  to  difclofe, 
((*)  Myfelf  the  very  coxcomb  I  expofe). 
And,  ah !  too  partial  to  my  lays  and  me  ! 
My  kind — yet  cruel  friends — foon  fhall  you  fee 
The  culprit -mufe,  whofe  idle  fportive  vein 
No  views  can  bias,  and  no  fears  reftrain,    • 
(Thus  female  thieves,  though  threaten'd  with  dif- 

grace, 

Muft  ftill  be  fing'ring  dear  forbidden  lace}, 
Dragg'd  without  mercy  to  that  awful  bar 
Where  Spleen  with  Genius  holds  eternal  war ; 
And  there,  her  final  ruin  to  fulfil, 
Condemn'd  by  butchers,  pre-refolv'd  to  kill-, 
In  vain  her  youth  fhall  for  compaffion  plead,} 
Ev'n  for  zfyllable  the  wretch  fhall  bleed,     , 
And,  'fpite  of  all  the  friendfhip  you  can  fhow, 
Be  made  a  public  fpectacle  of  woe.  [mute- 

But  hold,  though  fentenc'd — manners !    and  be 
Derrick  appears  to  move  his  kingly  fuit. 


f »)  A  very  ingenuous  declaration  it  mu/l  le  acknow 
ledged  ;  and  I  dare  venture  to  pronounce  our  author  the 
Jirfl  tvho  e-ver  made  it,  and  in  all  probability  the  lajl 
ivho  ever  ivill. — The  ancients  all  run  into  tbe  contrary 
extreme.  ,'Sec  Horace,  Virgil,  Ovid,  Lucan,  l3"t.  &c. 


POEMS. 


571 


M  Goddefs,  I  come  not  here  for  fame  to  vie, 
**  (A  mafter  of  the  ceremonies  I). 
"  Since  re-enthron'd  at  Bath  I  now  appear, 
"  This  day  appoint  me  to  that  flation  here ; 
"  In  niceft  order,  I'll  conduct  the  whole, 
"  All  riot  and  indecency  controul, 
"  For  know,  this  pigmy  (y)  frame  contains  a 
"  mighty  foul!" 

"  Nay,  let  me  urge  a  more  important  claim, 
"  'Twas  I  firft  gave  the  flrumpet's  (=)  lift  to  fame, 
"  Their  age,  fize,  qualities,  if  brown  or  fair, 
"  Whofe  breath  was  fweeteft,  whofe  the  brighteft 

"  hair, 

"  Difplay'd  each  various  dimple,  fmile,  and  frown, 
«'  Pimp-generaliffimo  to  all  the  town ! 
"  From  this  what  vaft  advantages  accrue  ! 
"  Thus  each  may  chooie  the  maid  of  partial  hue ; 
"  Know  to  whofe  bed  he  has  the  beft  pretenfions, 
"  And  buy  the  Venus  of  his  own  dimenfions. 

"  Nor  yet  a  ftranger  to  the  tuneful  nine,  [mine  ; 
"  Songs,    prologues,    and    meand'ring    odes   are 
"  Suchjeze  d'efprit,  as  beft  becomes  a  king, 
"  And  gentle  epigrams — without  a  fting ; 
"  The  fam'd  Domitian  ftill  before  my  eyes, 
"  Who  ne'er  for  paftime  murder'd  aught  but  flies; 
"  Nay — let  my  mufe  boaft  gentler  fport  than  he, 
"  Since  fly  or  gnat  was  never  hurt  by  me, 
"  By  me,  though  feated  in  monarchial  ftatc, 
"  And,  fpite  of  Harrington,  whofe  will  is  fate." 

Here  rais'd  the  little  monarch  on  his  toe, 
And  fmil'd  contempt  on  printers'  boys  below. 

He  fpoke. — The  goddcfs  thus  reply'd---"  My 

"  fon, 

"  'Tis  time  the  bufinefs  of  the  day  were  done ; 
"  Enjoy  what  thou  demand'ft — up  yonder  tree 
"  Climb  expeditious,  that  the  crowd  may  fee ; 
"  This  flag,  the  fignal  to  begin,  hang  out, 
"  And  quell  the  tumult  of  the  rabble  rout,  [gaze, 

"  But  flay — methinks,  while  round  the  field  I 
"  Amid  the  various  claimants  for  the  bays, 
"  One  fav'rite  bard  efcapes  my  notice — fay, 
"  My  dear  Melpomene,  on/uch  a  day, 
.*'  Why  is  not  thy  beloved  Shenftone  here?" 
The  mufe  was  filcnt — fobb'd — and  dropp'd  a  tear. 

And  now  the  trumpet's  found,  by  Fame's  com 
mand, 

Proclaims  the  hour  of  ftarting  is  at  hand. 
Now  round  the  goal  the  various  heroes  prefs, 
While  hope  and  fear  alternately  poflcfs 
Each  anxious  breaft  !  in  order  here  they  rife, 
And  panting  (land  impatient  for  the  prize  : 
Scarce  can  they  wait  till  Derrick  takes  his  place, 
And  waves  the  flag,  as  fignal  for  the  race. 

But,  lo  ! — a  crowd  upon  the  plain  appear, 
With  Defcaizeau  flow-pacing  in  the  rear ! 
Mafon  and  Thompfon,  Ogilvy  and  Hayes, 
And  he  whofe  hand  has  pluck'd  a  fprig  of  bays 
(rt)  On  Rhaitia's  barren  hills — onward  they  move ; 
But  now  too  late  their  various  pow'rs  to  prove, 
Some  future  day  may  fair  occalion  yield 
To  weigh  their  fev'ral  merits  in  the  field  : 
For  fee  !  tha  bards  with  expectation  rife, 
Stand  ftript,  and  rea'dy  for  the  glorious  ftrifc  ; 

00  Ingentes  animos  exercent  in  corpore  parvo. 

VlRGIt. 

(z)  A  msfl  infamous  pampblet,  intituled,  "  Harris's 


See  tie.  Traveller)  a  Poem. 


And  monarch  Derrick  would  attempt  in  vain 
Their  furious  ardour  longer  to  reftrain. 

The   flag    difplay'd,    promifcuous   forth   they 
bound,  [ground ; 

(l>]  And  (hake  with  clatt'ring  feet  the  powder'd 
Equal  in  flight  there  two  difpute  the  race, 
With  envious  ftrife,  and  meafure  pace  for  pace. 
Straight  all  is  uproar  and  tumultuous  din  ; 
Tbis  tumbles  down,  another  breaks  his  fhin; ; 
That  (c)  fwearshis  puffing  neighbourftinksof^j'/i. 
Each  joftles  each,  a  wrangling,  madding  train, 
While  loud,  To  Order,  Derrick  calls  in  vain. 
Stuck  faft  in  mire  here  fome  defponding  lay, 
And,  grinning,  yield  the  glories  of  the  day. 
For,  maugre  all  primeval  bards  have  fung, 
Steep  is  the  road  to  Fame,  and  clogg'd  with  dnng. 

Borne  on  the  wings  of  Hope  now  Murphy  flies, 
Vain  hope!  for  Fate  ihewifh'd-for  boon  denies; 
Arriv'd,  where  fcavengers,  the  night  before, 
Had  left  their  gleanings  from  the  common  Jboret 
With  head  retorted,  as  he  fearful  fpy'd 
The  giant  Churchill  thund'ring  at  his  fide, 
Sudden  he  tript,  and,  piteous  to  tell ! 
Prone  hi  the  filth  the  haplefs  poet  fell  (d). 

'  Diftanc'd  by  G — !'  roars  out  a  ruftic  'fquire, 
'  He  muft  give  out,  thus  fous'd  in  dung  and  mire.* 
Lord  M —  replies,  I'll  hold  you  fix  to  ten, 
'  Spite  of  the  t — d,  he'll  rife  and  run  again.' 

A  burft  of  laughter  echoes  all  around,  [ground, 
While,  fputt'ring  dirt,  and  fcrabbling  from  the 
'  Ceafe,fools,your  mirth,  nor  fneer  at  my  difgrace; 
'  This  curfed  bog,  not  Churchill,  won  the  race; 
'  And  fure,  who  fuch  difafters  can  forefee, 
'  Muft  be  a  greater  conjurer  than  me.' 

While  Churchill,  carelefs,  triumphs  in  his  fall, 
Up  to  the  gulf  his  jaded  rivals  crawl ; 
Here  fome  the  watchful  harpies  on  the  fhore 
Plunge  in — ah  !  deftin'd  to  return  no  more  ! — 
While  others  wond'ring,  view  them  as  they  fink, 
And  fcar'd,  ftand  quiv'ring  on  the  dreadful  brink. 

Now  rous'd  the  hero  by  the  trumpet's  found, 
Turns  from  his  rueful  foe,  and  flares  around ; 
No  bard  he  views  behind — but  all  have  paft 
Him,  heedlefs  of  their  flight,  and  now  the  laft. 

(£)  Left  fome  malevolent  critic,  reviewing  critic,  or 
critical  reader  (as  all  readers,  noiv-a-days,  are  critics J, 
Jbould  tax  the  author  -with  plagiarifm,  be  thinks  it  pru 
dent  to  enter  bis  caveat,  by  declaring  be  bad  that  famous 
line  of  Virgil  in  bis  eye, 

Quadrupedante  putrem  fonitu  quatut  ungulz  cam- 
pum, 

ivitb  this  difference,  that  bis  animals  have  four  feet,  and 
tbefe  but  ttvo- 

(c)  Many  of  our  readers  cannot  but  remember,  in  a 
late  literary  quarrel,  bo-w  the  authors  attacked  one  ano 
ther  for  frequenting  brothels,  fmoaking,  and  dram-drink' 
ing,  to  -which  this  circumjlance  alludes. 

(d)  The  very  fame  misfortnne  happens  to  Oilcan  A' 
jax,  in  the  Iliad,  -who  alfo  makes  afpeecb  to  the  fame  cf- 
fefi: 

Accurfed  Fate,  the  conqueft  I  forego, 
A  mortal  I,  a  goddefs  was  my  foe  ! 
She  urg'd  her  fav'rite  on  the  rapid  way; 
And  Pallas,  not  Ulyfles,  won  the  day. 

A  noble  precedent,  and  fiifficient  for  authorizing  fo  IOTP 
an  incident  in  this  poem. 


57* 


THE  WORKS   OF   SHAW. 


Stung  at  the  thought  with  double  force  he  fprings, 
Rage  gives  him  ftrength,  and  emulation  wings  : 
The  ground  regain'd— '  Stand  clear,'  he  fternly 

faid, 

•  Who  bars  my  paflage,  horror  on  his  hsad  !' 
Unhappy  Dapper  !  doom'd  to  meet  thy  fate, 
"Why  heard'ft  thou  not  the  menace  ere  too  late  ! 
Fir'cl  with  difdain,  he  fpurn'd  the  witling's  breech, 
And  headlong  hurl'd  him  in  Oblivion's  ditch  ; 
Then  inftant  bounding  high  with  all  his  main, 
O'erleap'd  its  utmoft  bounds,  and  fcour'd  along 
the  plain. 

Sour  critics,  frowning,  view'd  him  as  he  fled  ; 
Spite  bit  her  nails,  and  Dulnefs  fcratch'd  her  head. 
The  gulf  once  pad,  no  ohftacle  remains, 
Smooth  is  the  path,  "midft  flowV-enamel'd  plains; 
Unrival'd  no«v,  with  joyful  fpeed  he  flies. 
Performs  the  deftin'd  race,  and  claims  the  prize. 
Fame  gives  the  rhaplet,  while  the  tuneful  Nine 
Th'  acknowledg'd  vidlor  hail  in  notes  divine. 

Smollet  ftood  grumbling  by  the  fatal  ditch  ; 
Hill  call'd  the  G'jddrfs  whore,  and  Jones  a  bitch  ; 
Each  curs'd  the  partial  judgment  of  the  day, 
And,  greatly  difappoiuted,  fneak'd  away. 

SONG. 

WHENE'ER  to  gentle  Emma's  praife 

I  tune  my  foft  enamour'd  lays, 

When  on  the  face  fo  dear  I  prize, 

I  fondly  gaze  with  love-fick  eyes; 

"  Say  Damon,"  crie»  the  fmiling  falf, 

With  modeft  and  ingenuous  air, 

"  Tell  of  this  homely  frame,  the  part 

To  which  J  owe  your  vanquifti'd  heart.'* 

In  vain  my  Emma  would  I  tell 
By  what  thy  captive  Damon  fell ; 
The  fwain  who  partial  charms  can  fee, 
May  own— but  never  lov'd  like  me  1 
Won  by  thy  form  and  fairer  mind, 
So  much  my  wifhes  are  confin'd, 
"With  lover's  eyes  fo  much  I  fee, 
Thy  very  faults  are  charms  to  me. 

Emma  to  Damon,  on  finding  his  addrejjes  not  fa 
voured  by  her  friends,  on  account  of  his  want 
of  fortune. 

JForbear,  in  pity,  ah  !  forbear 

To  (both  my  ravifh'd  ear ; 
Nor  longer  thus  a  love  declare, 

Tis  death  for  me  to  hear. 

Too  much,  alas !  my  tender  heart 

Does  to  thy  fuit  incline* 
Why  then  attempt  to  gain  by  art, 

What  is  already  thine  ? 

O  !  let  not,  like  the  Grecian  dame*, 

My  haplefs  fortune  prove, 
Wh-o  languiilfd  in  too  fierce  a  flame, 

And  died  by  too  much  love. 

fbe  Author  being  in  company  with  Emma,  and- 
having  no  opportunity  of  expreffing  certain 
faults  be  bad  conceived  of  her  Jincerity,  caa- 

*  Semele. 


•ueys  to  her  the  following  lines,  at  a  device  tz 
know  the  fent intents  of  her  heart. 

Are  all  my  flattering  hopes  at  once  betray'd, 
And  cold    and   taithlefs    grown  my   nut-brown 

maid  ; 

Have  I  fo  long  indulg'd  the  pleating  fmart, 
And  worn  thy  grateful  image  next  my  heart, 
And  mi'ft  I  thus  at  once  all  hopes  refign, 
When  fix'd  as  fate,  I  fondly  thought  thee  mine  ? 
Then  go,  irrefolute— and  dare  to  prove 
To  pleafe  proud  friends,  a  rebel  to  thy  love. 
Perhaps,  too  long  accuftora'd  to  obtain, 
My  flattering  views  were  ever  falfe  and  vain  I 
Perhaps  my  Emma's  lips,  well  fkill'd  in  art. 
Late  breath'd  a  language  foreign  to  her  heart ! 
Perhaps  the  mufe  profanely  does  thee  wrong, 
f  Weak  my  fufpicions,  and  unjuft  my  fong  I 
Which  ever  is  the  caufe,  the  truth  proclaim, 
And  to  thatfentence  here  affix  thy  name; 
So  mail  we  both  be  refcu'd  from  the  fear 
Which  thou  muft  have  to  tell,  and  1 \ohear; 
If  thou  art  falfe— the  mufe  mail  vengeance  take, 
And  blaft  the  faithlefs  fex,  for  Emma's  fake. 
If  true — my  wounds  thy  gentle  voice  (hall  heal, 
And  own  me  punifli'd  by  the  pangs  I  feel. 
But  O !  without  difguife  proneunce  my  fate, 
Blefs  me  with  love,  or  curfe  me  with  thy  hate  ! 
Hearts  foft  as  mine  indifference  cannot  bear  ; 
Perfedl  my  hopes,  or  plunge  me  in  defpair. 

To  Emma,  doubting  the  Author*  sincerity* 

When  mifers  ceafe  to  doat  on  gold, 
When  juftice  is  no  longer  fold, 
When  female  tongues  their  clack  fhall  hufh, 
When  modefty  mail  ceafe  to  blufh  ; 
When  parents  (hall  no  more  controul, 
The  fond  affedlions  of  the  foul. 
Nor  force  the  fad  reluctant  fair, 
Her  idol  from  her  heart  to  tear ; 
For  fordid  intereft  to  engage, 
And  languifli  in  the  arms  of  age ; 
Then  in  this  heart  (hall  falfehood  reign, 
And  pay  thy  krndnefs  with  diidain. 
When  friends  fevere  as  thine  lhall  prove* 
Propitious  to  ingenuous  love  ; 
Bid  thee  in  merit  place  affiance, 
And  think  they're  honour'd  by  th'  alliance  j 
And  O  1   when  hearts  as  proud  as  mine, 
Shall  barely  ki  eel  at  Piutus'  (brine, 
Forego  my  modelt  plea  to  fame, 
Or  own  dull  pow'r's  fuperior  claim, 
When  the  bright  fun  no  more  (hall  bring, 
The  fweet  return  of  annual  fpring, 
When  nature  lhall  the  change  depjore, 
And  tnufic  fill  the  groves  no  more  ;' 
Then  in  this  heart  fliall  falfehood  reign, 
And  pay  thy  kindnefs  with  difdain. 

But  why  from  dearer  objects  rove, 
Nor  draw  allufions  whence  I  love  ? 

When  my  dear  Emma's  eyes  (hall  be 
As  black  as  jet  or  ebony, 

•(•  After  pervftng  the  paper, Emma  (as  the  reader 
may  coujefiurefrom  thefequel)  returned  it  to  the 
Author,  after  having  written  her  name  ivith  a 
pencil  at  the  clofe  of  the  following  line  :  "  fVta& 
myfufpicigns  and  unjujt  my  fong." 


POEMS. 


And  every  froward  tooth  fliall  ftand, 
As  rang'd  by  Hemet's  dext'rous  hand; 
When  her  fweet  face,  deform'd  by  rage, 
No  more  fliall  every  heart  engage, 
When  her  foft  voice  fliall  ceafe  to  charm, 
Nor  malice  of  its  power  difarm ; 
When  manners  gentle  and  refin'd, 
No  more  ("peak  forth  her  fpotlefs  mind ; 
But  the  perfidious  minx  fliall  prove, 
A  perjur'd  traitrefs  to  her  love ; 
Then— nor  till  then— fliall  Damon  be 
Falie  to  his  vows,  and  falfe  to  thee. 

*f  rt  invitation  to  Emma,  after  marriage,  to  live  in 
the  country. 

Come  my  dear  girl,  let's  feek  the  peaceful  vale, 
Where  honour,  truth,  and  innocence  prevail ; 
Let's  fly  thus  curfed  town— a  neft  of  (laves — 
Where  fortune  fmiles  not  but  on  fools  or  knaves, 
Who  merit  claim  proportioned  to  their  gold, 
And  truth,  and  innocence,  are  bought  and  fold; 
An. humble  competence  we  have  in  ftore, 
Mere  food  and  raiment—  Kings  can  have  no  more ! 
A  glorious  patriarchial  life  we'll  lead, 
See  the  fruits  ripen,  and  the  lambkins  feed : 
Frequent  obferve  the  labours  of  the  fpade, 
And  joy  to  fee  each  yearly  toil  repaid  ; 
In  Ibme  fequefter'd  fpot  a  bower  fliall  (land, 
The  fav'rite  talk  of  thy  lov'd  Damon's  hand, 
Where  the  fweet  woodbine  clafps  the  curling 

vine, 

Emblem  of  faithful  love  like  your's  and  mine  ! 
Here  will  we  fit  when  evening  (hades  prevail, 
And  hear  the  night-bird  tell  its  plaintive  tale* 
Till  nature's  voice  thall  fummun  us  away, 
To  gather  ipirits  for  th'  approaching  day, 
Then  on  thy  bread  I'll  lay  my  weary  head, 
A  pillow  letter  than  a  monarch's  bed. 


573 


THE  SNOW-BALL. 

A  CANTATA. 
RECITATIVE. 

As  Harriot  wanton  as  the  fportive  roe, 

Was  pelting  Strephon  with  the  nrw-fall'n  fnow; 

Th'  ena'mour'd  youth,  who'd  long  in  vain  ad« 

mir'd, 

By  every  look  and  every  gefture  fir'd, 
While  round  his  head  the  harmlefs  bullets  fly, 
Thus  breathes  his  paflion,  pretac'd  with  a  figh. 

AIR. 
Ceafe  my  charmer,  I  conjure  thee, 

Oh  !  ceafe  this  paftime,  too  fevere ; 
Though  I  burn,  fnow  cannot  cure  me, 

Fix'd  is  the  flame  that  rages  here. 
Snow  in  thy  hand  its  chillnefs  lofes, 

Each  flake  converts  to  glowing  fire  ; 
Whilft  thy  cold  breaft  all  warmth  refufes, 

Thus  I  by  contraries  expire. 

RECITATIVE. 

A  humble  diftance  thus  to  tell  your  pain, 
What  fhould  you  meet  but  coldnefs  and  difdain? 
Reply 'd  the  laughing  fair— Obferve  the  fnow, 
The  fun  retir'd,  broods  o'er  the  vale  below, 
But  when  approaching  near  he  gilds  the  day, 
It  owns  the  genial  flame  and  melts  away. 
AIR. 

Whining  in  this  love-fick  drain, 

Strephon  you  will  figh  in  vain ; 

For  your  paflion  thus  to  prove, 

Moves  my  pity,  not  my  lo-ve . 

Phttbus  points  you  to  the  prize, 

Take  the  hint,  be  timely  wife, 

Other  arts,  perhaps,  may  move, 

And  ripen  gity  into  love. 


THE 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  F 


EDWARD  LOVIBOND,  ESQ., 


Containing 


THE  TEARS  OF  OLD  MAY-DAY,  ODES, 

JULIA'S  LETTER,  EPISTLES, 

ELEGIES,  ||  SONGS. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

*THE  LIFE  OF  "THE  AUTHOR. 


Ah  '.  what  avails — that  once  the  mufes  crown'd 
Thy  head  with  laurels,  and  thy  temples  bound  1 
That  in  that  polifti'd  mind  bright  genius  flione, 
That  letter'd  fcience  mark'd  it  for  her  own  ! 
Cold  is  that  breaft  that  breath'd  celeftial  fire ! 
Mute  is  that  tongue,  and  mute  that  tuneful  lyre  ! 

MISS  G 'S  VERSES  OK  THE  DEATH  «F  LOVIBON*. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE. 
Anno  1795. 


THE  LIFE  OF  LO VI BOND, 


OF  the  perfonal  hiftory  of  LOVIBOJIB,  very  few  particulars  are  known,  and  thofe  few  have  not  been 
collected  inco  a  diftinct  narrative  ;  but  have  been  left  to  the  common  fate  of  oral  and  detached  corn* 
munication. 

The  life  of  a  country  gentleman,  devoting  part  of  his  time  to  literature  and  poetry,  cannot  be  ex 
pected  to  abound  in  events  that  merit  extraordinary  attention.  The  natural  bent  of  his  mind,  and 
his  purfuits,  lead  him  to  prefer  the  fcenes  of  (hade  and  filence  ;  and  his  charafter  is  left  to  be  judged 
of  by  pofterity,  rather  from  his  writings,  than  from  thofe  trivial  incidents  of  life,  which  he  ihares  in 
common  with  the  reft  of  mankind. 

Little  attention  has  been  beftowed  by  the  anonymous  editor  of  his  poems,  in  tranfmitting  the  inci 
dents  of  his  life,  or  in  delineating  his  moft  obfervable  particularities ;  probably  becaufe  be  held 
them  to  be  little  deferring  of  tranfmiffion  to  pofterity. 

The  prefent  account,  therefore,  may  properly  be  confidered  rather  as  proportioned  to  the 
means  of  information,  than  to  his  eftimation  among  his  acquaintance,  or  his  rank  in  poetry  and  li 
terature. 

Edward  Lovibond  was  the  fon  of Lovibond,  Efq.  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  who  had 

*n  eftate  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Hampton,  in  Middlefex.  The  year  of  his  birth  is  not  afccr- 
tained. 

He  received  his  education  at  Kingfton  upon  Thames,  under  the  Rev,  Mr.  Wooddefon,  for  whom 
he  ever  retained  the  moft  affectionate  regard  ;  and  to  whom  he  addreffed  fome  Verfes  after  pajjing 
through  Findon,  Suffex,  in  1768,  and  whom  he  has  commemorated  in  the  beautiful  poem,  on  tb* 
converting  the  late  Mr.  Woc'Jdefon^t  Kovfe  »t  Kingfton  into  a  Poor  boufe,  Wr. 

"  Mr.  Wooddefon"  fays  the  editor  of  his  poems,  "  was,  in  truth,  one  of  thofe  amiable  beings 
whom  none  could  know  without  loving.  To  the  abilities  of  an  excellent  fcholar,  was  united  a  mind 
fo  candid,  fo  patient,  fo  replete  with  univerfal  benevolence,  that  it  glowed  in  every  action.  His 
life  was  an  honour  to  himtelf,  to  religion,  t»  human  nature.  He  preierved  to  his  death  fuch  a 
fimplicity  of  manners,  as  is  rarely  to  be  met  with.  He  judged  of  the  world  by  the  ftandard  of 
his  own  virtuous  heart,  and  few  men  who  had  feen  fuch  length  of  days  ever  left  it  fo  little  ac 
quainted  with  it." 

It  is  uncertain  whether  he  completed  his  ftudies  at  either  of  the  universities,  fpent  fome  years 
on  the  continent,  or  was  entered  in  any  of  the  Inns  of  Court  in  London  ;  but  bis  writings  fuffidently 
fliovv  that  he  had  the  advantages  of  a  polite  and  hberal  education. 

All  that  is  ktiown  with  certainty  concerning  him,  is,  that  he  parted  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Hampton,  where  he  feems  to  have  divided  his  time  between  the  occupations 
pf  rural  economy,  the  amulements  of  litei  a-ture  and  poetry,  and  the  gaieties  of  elegant  foctety. 

In  1753,  when  Moore  began  the  periodical  paper,  called  "  The  World,"  and  invited  th-  wits  of 
the  age  to  join  in  it,  Lovibond  gave  it  his  aflittance,  in  conjunction  with  the  Hon.  Horace 
Walpule,  the  preient  Earl  of  Orford,  Lord  Ch?fterfield,  Lord  Corke,  Sir  David  Dalrymple,  after 
wards  Lord  Hailes,  Jenyns,  Dr.  Warton,  Mr.  Cambridge,  &c. 

On  the  25th  July    1754,  his  Tears  of  Old  May-Day,  written  on  a  very  remarkable  event  in. 
•ur  hiftory,  the  reforming  our  ftyle  or  calendar  to  the  general  ufa^e  of  the  reft  of  Europe,  w^ 
Vol..  XL  O  • 


5?8  THE  LIFE   OF  LOVIBOND. 

introduced  to  the  public  in  the  8zd  number  of  "  The  World,"  and  read  with  univerfal  appro- 
bation. 

He  continued,  from  time  to  time,  to  compofe  verfes,  chiefly  on  )'uch  incidents  as  occafionally 
arofe  in  thofe  focieties  of  intimate  acquaintance  which  he  moft  frequented;  but  few  of  his  pieces 
were  prepared  for  the  prefs  by  himfelf. 

He  died  at  his  houfe  near  Hampton,  Auguft  25.  1775-  He  lived  greatly  belovfed  by  thofe  who 
beft  knew  him  ;  and  died  greatly  lamented  by  an  extenfive  and  elegant  acquaintance. 

His  poems  being  difperfed  in  the  hands  of  his  particular  friends,  for  whofe  amufement  and  his 
own,  they  were  written ;  his  only  brother,  Anthony  Lovibond  Collins,  Efq.  zealous  for  the  repu 
tation  of  a  brother  he  affectionately  loved,  complied  with  their  wiflies  to  have  them  collected  and 
preferved.  The  pieces  felected  by  him  for  that  purpofe  were  printed  in  one  volume,  Izmo.,  1785" 

with  a  preface  by  an  anonymous  editor,  and  a  few  lines  infcribed  by  Mifs  G ,  a  very  accomplifh- 

cd  lady  in  that  neighbourhood,  to  the  memory  of  Lovibond.  "  The  diffidence  of  this  lady,*'  fays 
the  preface,  "  though  poffeffir\g  the  ability  of  writing  with  much  tafte  and  elegance,  hath  ever  pre 
cluded  the  public  from  feeing  her  compofitions ;  but  as  the  author  has  addreifed  three  of  the  pieces 
in  this  collection  to  her,  under  the  title,  "  To  Mifs  G."  and  as  her's  in  reply,  written  feveral  years 
ago,  may  ferve  better  to  elucidate  his  own,  flie  hath,  on  this  occafion,  been  pleafed  to  permit  them 
with  the  fame  fignature,  to  be  inferted  with  the  poems  of  her  deceafed  friend.  They  are  now,  re 
printed  from  the  edition,  1785,  with  fome  corrections  communicated  by  a  friend,  in  the, 
"  Monthly  Review"  for  1785,  received,  for  the  firft  time,  into  a  collection  of  claffical  Englifb, 
poetry. 

The  character  of  Lovibond  feems  to  have  been  very  amiable  and  refpectable.  He  pofiefied  the 
focial  virtues  in  an  eminent  degree.  The  qualities  of  his  heart  and  his  head  were  equally  remark 
able.  To  the  fcholar  and  the  wit  he  added  every  elegant  attainment.  His  elegance  and  judgment 
were  univerfally  confefled.  "  He  was  an  admirable  fcholar,"  fays  the  editor  of  his  poems, 
'*  of  very  amiable  manners,  and  of  univerfal  benevolence  ;  of  which  all  his  writings  bear  ftrong' 
teftimony." 

As  a  poet,  his  Tears  of  Old  May-Day,  if  he  had  written  nothing  elfe,  entitles  him  to  very  confider- 
able  attention.  Every  part  of  his  works  difplays  the  man  of  tafte,  the  gentleman,  and  the  fcholar. 
He  is  a  pleafing  and  elegant  writer;  though  not  a  very  animated  or  firft-rate  poet.  His  compofi 
tions  bear  evident  traces  of  ability  and  ingenuity.  They  breathe  the  paflions  which  he  felt,  and  are 
feldom  cold  or  inanimated.  He  writes  with  terfenefs  and  neatnefs ;  frequently  with  elevation 
and  fpirit.  He  unites  dejicacy  of  wit,  and  poetic  fancy,  with  a  penfive  caft  of  thought,  tender- 
nefs  of  fentiment,  and  a  habit  of  moral  reflection.  He  has  more  judgment  and  feeling,  than 
ftrength  of  intellect,  or  fertility  of  invention.  His  fentiments  are  always  manly  and  delicate;  his 
conceptions  are  fometimes  ftriking  and  forcible,  and  frequently  diftingufhed  by  gay  humour, 
lively  wit,  and  pleafant  fatfre.  His  diction  is  chafte  and  poetical ;  and  his  verification  is  eafy  and 
harmonious. 

His  Tea.fi  of  Old  May-Day,  the  moft  poetical  and  popular  of  his  performances,  is  introduced  by 
the  following  humorous  paper,  explanatory  of  the  fubject,  in  the  "  The  World,"  No.  82. 

"  It  is  a  received  opinion  among  the  politicians,  that  the  fpirit  of  liberty  can  never  be  too  active 
under  a  conftitution  like  ours.  But  though  no  lover  of  his  country  would  dcfire  to  weaken  this  prin 
ciple,  which  has  more  than  once  preferved  the  nation,  yet  he  may  lament  the  unfortunate  applica 
tion  of  it,  when  perverted  to  countenance  party  violence,  and  opposition  to  the  moft  innocent  mea- 
fures  of  the  legislature.  The  clamour  againft  the  alteration  of  the  ftyle  feemed  to  be  one  *f  thefe 
inftances.  The  alarm  was  given,  and  the  moft  fatal  confequences  to  our  religion  and  government 
were  immediately  apprehended  from  it.  'This  opinion  gathered  ftrength  in  its  courfe,  and  receiv 
ed  a  tincture  from  the  remains  of  fuperftition  ftill  prevailing  in  the  counties  moft  remote  from  town. 
I  know  feveral  worthy  gentlemen  in  the  weft,  who  lived  many  months  under  the  daily  apprehen- 
fion  of  fome  dreadful  vifitation  from  peftilence  or  famine.  The  vulgar  were  almoft  every  where 
perfuaded  that  nature  gave  evident  tokens  of  her  difapproving  thefe  innovations.  I  do  not  indeed 
{recollect  that  apy  blazing  (tars  were  fcen  to  appear  upon  this  occafion,  or  that  armies  were  obferv. 


THE   LIFE   OF   LOVIBOND.  S7> 

ed  to  be  encountering  in  the  Ikies ;  people  probably  concluding,  that  the  great  men  who  pretended 
o  controul  the  fun  in  his  courfe,  would  allume  equal  authority  over  the  inferior  conftellations, 
and  not  fuffer  any  aerial  militia  to  aflemble  themfelves  in  oppofition  to  minifterial  proceedings. 

"  The  objection  to  this  regulation,  as  favouring  a  cuftom  eftabliflied  among  Papifts,  was  nut  heard 
indeed  with  the  fame  regard  as  formerly,  when  it  anally  prevented  the  legiflature  from  paffing  a 
bill  of  the  fame  nature  ;  yet  many  a  prefident  of  a  corporation  club  very  eloquently  harangued  up 
on  it,  as  introductory  to  the  doctrine  of  tranfubftantiation,  making  no  doubt  that  fires  would  be 
kindled  again  at  Smithfield  before  the  conclufion  of  the  year.  The  popular  clamour  has  at  laft 
happUy  fubfided,  and  fliared  the  general  fate  of  thofe  opinions  which  derive  their  fupport  from  ima 
gination,  not  reafon. 

"  In  the  prefent  happy  difpofition  of  the  nation,  the  author  of  the  following  verfes  may  venture  to 
introduce  the  complaints  of  an  ideal  perfonage,  without  feeming  to  ftrengthen  the  faction  of  real 
parties,  without  forfeiting  his  reputation  as  a  good  citizen,  or  bringing  a  fcandal  on  the  political 
character  of  Mr.  Fitz-Adam,  by  making  him  the  publifher  of  a  libel  a,gainft  the  (late.  This  ideal 
perfonage  is  no  other  than  the  Old  May-Day,  the  only  apparent  fufferer  from  the  prefent  regula 
tion.  Her  fituation  is  indeed  a  little  mortifying,  as  every  elderly  lady  will  readily  allow;  Cnce  the 
train  of  her  admirers  is  withdrawn  from  her  at  once,  and  their  adoration  transferred  to  a  rival,  young 
er  than  herfelf  by  at  leaft  eleven  days.'' 

In  this  exquifite  performance,  the  poet  creates  in  our  imagination  an  ideal  perfonage,  in  cir. 
cumftances  of  diftrefs,  which,  though  imaginary,  powerfully  awakens  all  our  tendernefs.  The 
attributes  of  Old  May-Day  are  finely  imagined,  her  character  and  employments  are  admirably  der 
lineated,  and  her  complaints  are  expreffed  with  the  ftrongeft  touches  of  genuine  pathos ;  the 
thoughts  are  elegant  and  claflical ;  the  popular  allufions  are  appofite  and  beautiful ;  the  natural 
defcription  is  difcriminate  and  graphical;  the  diction  is  animated  and  poetical ;  and  the  verfifica 
tion  is  at  once  eafy  and  forcible,  and  flows  with  a  plaintive  melody,  which  has  only  been  furpaffed 
by  the  inimitable  "  Church-yard  Elegy"  of  Gray.  Thus  the  tale  of  this  ideal  perfonage  comes 
to  us  poflefied  of  all  thofe  external  recommendations,  that  allure  the  attention  and  captivate  the 
heart.  The  Englifli  language  probably  cannot  boaft  a  finer  example  of  the  power  of  poetry,  than 
The  Tears  of  Old  May-Day.  The  happy  union  which  it  exhibits  of  genius  and  of  art,  arc  fo  truly 
admirable,  that  it  may  be  almoft  pronounced  inimitable. 

His  Julia's  printed  Letter  to  Lord  B ,  does  equal  credit  to  his  fenfibility  and  genius.    It  re- 

fembles,  in  its  tone  and  contexture,  though  the  characters  of  the  parties  are  very  different,  that 
of  "  Eloifa  to  Abelard."  It  is  alike  ^defcriptive  of  a  feeling  mind,  agitated  with  contending 
paflions.  We  meet  with  the  fame  fmoothnefs  of  .numbers,  vivid  colours,  energy  of  fentiment,  and 
warmth  of  expreflion.  Its  principal  defect,  %  the  want  of  variety,  both  of  fentiment  and  ex 
preflion. 

His  elegies  abound  in  tender  fentiments  and  moral  reflections,  interfperfed  with  the  flowers  of  the 
imagination,  exprefled  in  eafy  flowing  verfification,  which  will  be  perufed  with  pleafure,  though 
they  be  not  enriched  with  the  poetical  elegance  of  Gray.  The  elegy  on  Rural  Sports  breathes 
a  fpirit  of  humanity  and  poetry,  that  does  honour  both  to  his  heart  and  his  underftanding.  His 
Mulberry  Tree,  an  allegorical  tale,  is  equally  remarkable  for  fertility  of  invention,  felicity  of  ex 
preflion,  and  propriety  of  application.  Garrick  and  Dr.  Johnlbn  are  characterized  with  equal 
happinefs  and  fkill.  His  Odes,  though  not  in  the  firft  clafs  of  lyric  compofitions,  are  written 
with  confiderable  ardour  of  fpirit,  and  command  of  language.  The  Ode  to  Captivity  is  entitled  to 
a  greater  fliare  of  praife  for  conception  and  fentiment,  than  for  dicftion  and  harmony.  His  verfes  OK 
the  converting  Mr.  Wooddefon's  floiifc  at  King/Ion,  into  a  Poor-houfet  deferve  great  praife,  for  ten 
dernefs  of  fentiment,  and  beauty  and  energy  of  expreflion.  His  lines  On  Mr.  Brown's  alterations 
at  Clermont,  are  fprightly ;  and  the  allufion  to  a  fine  lady  drefled  with  greater  elegance,  and  lefe 
affectation,  is  well  imagined  and  very  happily  preferved.  Of  his  amatory  poems,  the  thoughts  are 
pure  and  limple,  and  the  verfification  is  elegant  and  eafy.  His  fongs,  addrefles,  complimentary 
verfes,  and  other  light  and  fportive  effufions  of  his  mufe,  will  be  read  with  pleafure  j  but  they  re.. 
cuire  no  iliftinct  examination  or  particular  criticifm.  , 

Q  o  i j 


THE  WORKS  OF  LOVIBOND. 


POEMS. 


THE  TEARS  OF  OLD  MAY-DAY. 

LID  by  the  jocund  train  of  vernal  hours 
And  vernal  airs,  up  rofe  the  gentle  May ; 

Blufhing  file  rofe,  and  blufhing  role  the  flow'rs 
That  fprung  fpontaneous  in  her  genial  ray. 

Her  locks  with  heaven's  ambrofial  dews  were 
bright, 

And  am'rous  zephyrs  flutter'd  on  her  breaft : 
With  ev'ry  fluffing  gleam  of  morning  light, 

The  colours  fliiited  of  her  rainbow  veft. 

Imperial  enfigns  grac'd  her  fmiling  form, 
A  golden  key,  and  golden  wand  (he  bore ; 

This  charms  to  peace  each  fullen  eaftern  itorm, 
And  that  unlocks  the  fummer's  copious  ftore. 

Onward  in  confcious  majetty  (he  came, 
The  grateful  honours  of  mankind  to  tafte : 

To  gather  faireft  wreaths  of  future  fame, 

And  blend  frefh  triumphs  with  her  glories  paft. 

Vain  hope  !  No  more  in  choral  bands  unite 
Her  virgin  TOt'ries,  and  at  early  dawn, 

Sacred  to  May  and  love's  myfterious  rite, 

Brufli  the  light  dew-drops  *  from  the  fpangled 
lawn. 

To  her  no  more  Augufta's  \  wealthy  pride 
Pours  the  full  tribute  from  Potofi's  mine  : 

Nor  frefh-blown  garlands  village  maids  provide, 
A  purer  off'ring  at  her  ruitic  flirine. 

No  more  the  Maypole's  verdant  height  around 
To  valour's  games  th'  ambitious  youth  advance; 

No  merry  be  lis  and  tabor's  fyrightlier  found 
Wake  the  loud  carol,  and  the  fportive  dance. 

Sudden  in  penfive  fadrefs  droop'd  her  head, 
Faint  on  her  cheeks  the  blufhing  crimfon  dy'd — 

"  O  !  chafte  victorious  triumphs,  whither  fled  ? 
"  My  maiden   honours,  whither  gone?1'    (he 
cry'd. 

*  Alluding  to  the  country  cujlom  of  gathering 
May-dew. 

f  The  j>late  garlands  of 'London* 


Ah  !  once  to  fame  and  bright  dominion  born, 
The  earth  and  fmiling  ocean  faw  me  rife, 

With  time  coeval  and  the  ftar  of  morn, 
The  tirft,  the  faireft  daughter  of  the  ikies. 

Then,  when  at  heav'n's  prolific  mandate  fprung 
The  radiant  beam  of  new-created  day, 

Celeftial  harps,  to  airs  of  triumph  ftrung, 

Hail'd  the  glad  dawn,  and  angels  call'd  me 
May. 

Space  in  her  empty  regions  heard  the  found, 
And  hills,  and  dales,  and  rocks,   aad  vallies 
rung ; 

The  fun  exulted  in  his  glorious  round, 

And  fhouting  planets  in  their  courfes  fung. 

For  ever  then  I  led  the  conftant  year ; 

Saw  youth,   and  joy,    and  love's  enchanting 

wiles ; 
Saw  the  mild  graces  in  my  train  appear, 

And  infant  beauty  brighten  in  my  fmiles. 

No  winter  frown'd.    In  fweet  embrace  ally'd. 
Three  fifter  feafons  danc'd  th'  eternal  green ; 

And  Spring's  retiring  foftnefs  gently  vy'd 

With   Autumn's  blufli,     and  Summer's  lofty 
mien. 

Too  foon,  when  man  profan'd  the  blefiings  giv'a 
And  vengeance  arm'd  to  blot  a  guilty  age, 

With  bright  Aftrea  to  my  native  heav'n 
1  fled,  and  flying  faw  the  deluge  rage; 

Saw  burfting  clouds  eclipfe  the  noontide  beams, 
While  founding  billows  from  the    mountains 

roll'd, 

With  bitter  waves  polluting  all  my  ftreams, 
My  neftar'd  ftreams,  that  flow'd  on  fands  of 
gold. 

Then  yanifti'd  many  a  fea-girt  ifle  and  grove, 
Their  forefts  floating  on  the  wat'ry  plain  : 

Then,  fam'd  for  arts  and  law*  deriv'd  from  Jove, 
My  Atalantis  *  funk  beneath  the  maic. 

*  See  Plato. 
Oo  iij 


THE  WORKS  OF  LOVIBOND. 


No  longer  bloom'd  primaeval  Eden's  bow'rs, 
Nor  guardian    dragons  watch'd  th'  Hefperian 
fteep: 

With  all  their  fountains,  fragrant  fruits  and  flow'rs 
Torn  from  the  continent  to  glut  the  deep. 

JKo  more  to  dwell  in  fylvan  i'cenes  I  deign'd, 
Yet  oft  defcending  to  the  languid  earth, 

With  quick'ning  pow'rs    the  fainting  mafs  fuf- 

tain'd, 
And  wak'd  her  (himb'ring  atoms  into  birth. 

And  ev'ry  echo  taught  my  raptur'd  name, 
And  ev'ry  virgin  breath'd  her  am'rous  vows, 

And  precious  wreaths  of  rich  immortal  fame, 
Show'r'd   by    the   mufes,    crown'd   my   lofty 
brows. 

But  chief  in  Europe  and  in  Europe's  pride, 
My  Albion's  favour'd  realms  I  rofe  ador'd  ; 

And  pour'd  my  wealth,  to  other  climes  deny'd  ; 
From  Amalthea's  horn  with  plenty  ftor'd. 

Ah  !  me  !  for  now  a  younger  rival  claims 
My  ravifh'd  honours,  and  to  her  belong 

My  choral  dances,  and  victorious  games, 
To  her  my  garlands  and  triumphal  fong. 

O  fay  what  yet  untafted  beauties  flow, 
What  purer  joys  await  her  gentler  reign? 

Do  lilies  fairer,  vi'lets  fweeter  blow  ? 
And  warbles  Philomel  a  fofter  ftrain  ? 

Do  morning  funs  in  ruddier  glory  rife  ? 

Does  ev'rring  fan  her  with  ferener  gales  ? 
Do  clouds  drop  fatnefs  from  the  wealthier  Ikies, 

Or  wantons  plenty  in  her  happier  vales  ? 

Ah  !  no  :  the  blunted  beams  of  dawning  light 
Skirt  the  pal?  orient  with  uncertain  day  ; 

And  Cynthia,  riding  on  the  car  of  night, 

Through  clouds  embattled  faintly  wings  her 
way. 

Pale,  immature,  the  blighted  verdure  fprings, 
Nor  mounting  j trices  feed  the  fwelling  flow'r; 

Mute  all  the.  groves,  nor  Philomela  fings 
When  filence  Hftens  at  the  midnight  hour. 

Nor  wonder,  mani  that  nature's  bafliful  face, 
And  op'ning  charms  her  rude  embraces  fear  : 

Is  flie  not  fprung  from  April's  wayward  race, 
The  fickly  daughter  of  th'  unripen'd  year  ? 

With  fhow'rs  and  funfhine  in  her  fickle  eyes, 
With  hollov^  fmiles  proclaiming  treach  rous 

peace, 

With  blufhes,  hatb'ring,  in  their  thin  difguife, 
The  blalts  that  riot  on  the  Spring's  increafe  ? 

Is  this  the  fair  invefted  with  my  fpoil 

By  Europe's  laws,  andferiateb'  ftern  command:1 

Ungen'rous  Europe  !  let  me  fly  thy  foil, 
And  waft  my  treafures  to  a  grateful  land  ; 

.Again  revive,  en  Afia's  dropping  fliore, 

IVTy  Daphne's  groves,  or  Lycia's  ancient  plain  ; 

Again  to  Afric's  lultry  fands  reftore 

Embow'ring  lhades,  and  Lybian  Ammon's  fane : 

Or  hade  to  northern  ZemlJla's  favage  coaft, 
There  hufli  to  iiknte  elemental  ftrife  j 


Brood  o'er  the  regions  of  eternal  froit, 

And  fwell  her  barren  womb  with  heat  and 
life. 

Then  Britain — Here  (he  ceas'd.    Indignant  grief, 
And  parting  pangs  her  fault'ring  tongue  fup- 
preft  : 

Veil'd  in  an  amber  cloud  flie  fought  relief. 
And  tears  and  filent  anguiih  told  the  reft. 

DEDICATION 

To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wooddefon,  of  Kingjlon  i/$on 
Thames,  and  the  Ladies  of  his  Neighbourhood. 

O  THOU  who  fit'ft  in  academic  fchools, 
Lets  teaching  than  infpiring  ancient  art, 

Thy  own  example  nobler  than  your  rules, 
Thy  blamelets  life,  beit  leflbn  for  the  heart. 

And  ye,  who  dwell  in  peaceful  groves  around, 
Whole  voice,  whofe  verfe  enchants,  harmonious 
maids '. 

Who  mix  the  lyre  with  harps  of  Cambrian  found; 
A  mournful  mufe,  ah  !  (heller  in  your  fhades  1 

Nor  you  flie  rivals,  nor  fuch  magic  ftrain 
As  refcu'd  Eloile  from  oblivion's  deep ; 

Enough,  if  one  the  meekeft  of  your  train, 

Poor  Julia  !  cries, — and  turns  afide  to  weep!— 

JULIA'S  PRINTED  LETTER 

TO  LORD    B— — — 

— AND  dar'ft  thou  then,  infulting  lord,  demand 
A  friendly  anfwer  from  this  trembling  hand  ? 
Perifh  the  thought !  (hall  this  unguarded  pen 
Still  truft  its  frailties  with  the  frauds  of  men  ? 
To  one,  and  one  alone,  again  impart 
The  foft  effufions  of  a  melting  heart ! — 
No  more  thy  lips  my  tender  page  fliall  (lain, 
And  prrnt  falfe  kifles,  dream't  fincere  in  vain ; 
No  more  thy  eyes  with  fweet  furprife  purlne, 
Love's  fecret  mytteries  there  unveiPd  to  you. 
Demand'ft  thou  (till  an  anfwer  ? — let  it  be 
An  anfwer  worthy  vengeance,  worthy  me  !— 
Hear  it  in  public  characters  relate 
An  ill  ftarr'd  pafllon,  and  capricious  fate  ! 
Yes,  public  let  it  (land ; — to  warn  the  maid 
From  her  that  fell,  lefs  vanquifli'd  than  betray'd: 
Guiltlefs,  yet  doom'd  with  guilty  pangs  to  groan, 
And  expiate  other's  treatbns,  not  her  own : 
A  race  of  fliame  in  honour's  paths  to  run-, 
Still  virtue's  follower,  yet  by  vice  undone; 
Such  free  complaint  to  injur'd  love  belongs, 
Yes,  tyrant,  read,  and  know  me  by  my  wrongs; 
Know  thy  own    treacheries,    bar'd    to    general 

view, 
Yes,  traitor,  read,  and  reading  tremble  too  ! 

What  vice  would  perpetrate  and  fraud  difguife, 
I  conie  to- blaze  it  t'o  a  nation's  eyes ; 
I  come — ah  '.  wretch  thy  fwelling  rage  controul, 
Was  he  not  once  the  idol  of  thy  foul  ? — 
True,->-by  his  guilt  thy  tortur'd  bofom  bleeds, 
Yet  fpare  his  blufties,  lor  'tis  love  that  pleads  !— 
Refpeding  him,  refpeit  thy  infant  flame, 
Pit-claim  the  tieafon,  hide  the  traitor's  name  I— 


POEMS. 


583 


Enough  to  honour  and  revenge  be  giv'n, 
This  :ruth  referve  for  confcience  and   for  heav'n  ! 
Talk'ft  thou,  ingrate,  of  friendfhip's  holy  po\v'rs? 
Whst  binds  the  tiger,  and  the  lamb  he  ours  ! 
This  cold,  this  frozen  bofom,  can'rt  thou  dream 
Seni'elefs  to  love,  will  ("often  to  efteem  ? 
What   means   thy  profter'd   friendship  ? — but   to 
prove  [love — 

Thou  wilt  not  hate  her,  whom   thou  can'ft  not 
Remember  thee  ! — repeat  that  found  again  I— 
My  heart  applauding  echoes  to  the  ftrain  ; 
Yes,  till  this  heart  forgets  to  beat,  and  grieve, 
Live  there  thy  image — but  detefted  live  ! — 
Still  fwell  my  rage — nncheck'd  by  time  or  fate, 
Nor  waken  memory  but  to  kindle  hate  ! — 
Enter  thy  treacherous  bofom,  enter  .deep, 
Hear   confcienot   call,    while    flatt'ring    pailions 

fleep! — 

Impartial  fearch,  and  tell  thy  boafted  claim 
To  love's  indulgence  and  to  virtuous  fame  ! 
Where  harbour  honour,  juflice,  faith,  and  truth, 
Bright  forms,  whofe  dazzling  femblance  caught 

my  youth. 

How  could  I  doubt  what  faireft  feem'd  and  beft 
Should  build  its  manfion  in  a  noble  bread  ? 
How  doubt  fuch  generous  virtues  lodg'd  in  thine 
That  felt  them  glowing,  tender  maid,  in  mine? 
Boaft  not  of  trophies  from  my  fall  achiev'd, 
Boaft  not,  deceiver,  in  this  foul  deceiv'd  ; 
Eafy  the  traitor  wins  an  open  heart, 
Artlefs  itfelf,  and  unfufpecting  art : 
Not  by  fuperior  wiles,  fuccefsful  proves, 
But  fond  credulity  in  her  that  loves. — 

Blufh,  fhamelefs  grandeur,   blulh  ! — fhall  Bri 
tain's  peer, 

Daring  all  crimes,  not  dare  to  be  fincere  ?— 
His  fraud  in  virtue's  faireft  likenefs  paint, 
And  hide  his  noblenefs  in  bafe  conftraim. 
What  charms  were  mine  to  tempt  thy  guilty  fires ! 
What  wealth,  what  honours  from  illultrious  fires  ! 
Can  virtue's  fimple  fpoils  adorn  thy  rac,e  ? 
Shall  annals  mark  a  village  maid's  difgrace  ? 
Ev'n  the  lad  fecret  to  thy  felt"  confin'd, 
Sleeps,  nor  thou  dar'ft  divulge  it  to  mankind : 
'When  burfting  tears  my  inward  anguifh  fpeak, 
When   palenefs   fpreads    my  lometimes  flufhing 

•cheek, 

When  my  frame  trembles  with  convulfive  ftrife, 
And  fjiints  flutter  on  the  verge  of  lite, 
When  to  my  heart  the  ebbing  pulfe  is  driv'n, 
And  eyes  throw  faint  accufing  beams  to  heav'n, 
Still  from  the  world  thole  fweiling-  fighs  fuppreft, 
Thofe  fortows  ftreaming  in  one  faithful  breaft  ; 
Explain  to  her,  from  others  hide  thy  caie,  [fpair, 
Thought  nature's   weaknefs,  and  not  love's  de- 
Thc  fprightiy  youth  in  gloomy  langour  pine, 
My  portion  mifery,  yet  not  triumph  thine — 
Ah  1  whence  derives  thy  fex  its  barbarous  powers 
Tor  fpoil  the  fweetnefs  of  our  virgin  hours  ?• 
Why  leave  me  not,  where  firft  I  met  your  eye, 
A  fimple  flower  to  bloom  in  (hades,  and  die  ? 
Where  fprightiy  morn  on  downy  pinions  rofe, 
And  evening  lull'd  me  to  a  deep  repofe  ? 
Sharing  pure  joysj  at  ieaft  divine  content, 
The  choiceft  trcai'ure  for  mere  mortals  meant. 
Ah !  wherefore  poilbning  moments  fweet  as  thefr, 
i.fl«y  on  me  thy  fetal  arts  to  plcafe  ? . 


•  Deftin'd,  if  profperous,  for  fublimer  charms, 
To  court  proud  wealth,  and  greatnefs  to  thy  arms 

;  How  many  a  brighter,  many  a  fairer  dame, 
Fond  of  her  prize  had  fann'd  thy  fickle  flame? 
With  livelier  moments footh'd  thy  vacant  mind? 
Enfy  pofiefs'd  thee,  ttafy  too  refign'd— 
Chang'd  but  her  object,  paflion's  willing  (lave, 
Nor  telt  a  wound  to  fetter  to  the  grave— 
Oh  !  had  I,  confcious  of  thy  fierce  defires, 
But  half  Contenting,  fliar'd  contagious  fires, 
But  half  reluctant,  heard  thy  vowsexplain'd, 
This  vanquhh'd    heart    had   luffer'd,   not  com- 

plain'd—         , 

But  ah,  with  tears  and  crowded  fighs  to  fue 
Falfe  paflion's  drefs  in  colours  meant  for  true; 
Artful  affurae  confufion's  fweet  difguife> 
Meet  my  coy  virtues  with  dejected  eyes, 
Steal  their  fweet  language  that  no  words  impart, 
And  give  me  back  an  image  of  my  heart. 
This,  this  was  treachery,  fated  belt  to  ftiare 
Hate  from  my  bofom,  and  from  thine  defpair— • 
Yet  unrelenting  ftill  the  tyrant  cries, 
Heedlefs  of  pity's  voice  and  beauty's  fighs, 
"  That  pious  frauds  the  wifeft,  beft,  approve, 
"  And  Heav'n  but  fmiles  at  perjuries  in  love."— 

No — 'tis  the  villain's  plea,  his  poor  pretence, 
To  feize  the  trembling  prey  that  wants  defence. 

No — 'tis  the  bale  fenfation  cowards  feel, 
The  wretch  that  trembles  at  the  brave  man's 

fteel; 

Fierce  and  undaunted  to  a  fex  appears 
That  breathes  its  vengeance  but  in  fighs  and  tears, 
That  helplefs  fex,  by  nature's  voice  addreft 
To  lean  its  weaknefs  on  your  firmer  breaft, 
Protection  pleads  in  vain — th*  ungenerous  flave 
Infults  the  virtue  he  was  born  to  fave. 

What!  fhall  the  lighted  ptomile  lips  can  feign 
Bind  man  to  man  in  honour's  1'acred  chain  ? 
And  oaths  to  us  not  fanctit'y  th'  accord, 
Not  Heav'n  attefted,  and  Heav'n's  awful  Lord  ? 
Why  various  laws  for  beings  form'd  the  fame  ? 
Equal  from  one  indulgent  hand  we  came, 
For  mutual  blifsthat  each  aflign'd  its  place, 
With  manly  vigour  temp'ring  female  grace, 
Depriv'd  our  gentler  intercourse,  explain 
Your  folitary  pie.afurei  lullen  reign  ; 
What  tender  joys  fit  brooding  o'er  your  (lore, 
How  fweet  ambition's  {lumbers  gorg'd  with  gore! 
'Tis  our's  th1  unlbcial  pallions  ta  cootroul, 
Pour  the  glad  balm  that  heals  the  wounded  foul ; 
From  wealth,  from  power'sdelufive  reftlefs  dreams 
To  lirre  your  fancy  to  diviner  themes.— 
Confefs  at  length  your  fancied  rights  you  draw 
From  force  fuperior,  and  not  nature's  Jaw: 
Yet  know,  by  us  thofe  bor.fted  arms  prevail, 
By  native  gentlenefs,  not  man  we  tail, 
With  brave  revenge  a  tyrant's  blood  to  ("pill 
Pofleffin'g  all  the  power — wr.  want  the  will. 

Still  it  you  giory  in  the  lion's  force, 
Come,  nobly  emulate  that  lion's  courle  I 
From  guarded  herds  h»  vindicates  his  prey, 
Not  lurks  in  fraudful  thickets  from  the  day  ; 
While  man,  with  fnares  to  cheat,  with  wiles  per- 

pltx, 

Weakens  already  weak  too  foft  a  fex; 
In  laws,  in  cutloms,  fafliion's  tetters  binds, 
Relaxes  all  the  nerves  that  brace  oux 
O  o  iiij 


THE  WORKS   OF  LOVIBONti. 


Then,  lordly  farage.  ren^s  the  captive  heart 
Firft  ga  Vd  by  treachery,  then  tam'd  by  art.— 
Are  thefe  reflections  then  thit  love  infpires  ? 
Is  b;mr  gr'ef  the  fruir  of  fair  defircs? 
Fr  m  whole  example  could  I  dream  to  find 
A  claim  to  curie,  perhap- to  wrong  mankind? 
Ah  :  long  I  ftrove  to  buril  th'  enchanting  tie, 
Ar>d  forroM  >-e!.-;ves.  that  ev'n  in  forming  die; 
Too  long  J  1  nger'd  on  the  (hipwreck'd  coait, 
An'!  ey'  i  the  ocean  where  my  wealth  was  loft  ! 
In  fi'rnce  wept,  fcarce  venturing  to  compl  tin, 
Still  to  my  he-tr'  diflkmbled  half  my  pain — 
Afcrib'cl  my  fufferjngs  to  its  fears jiot  you  ; 
Beheld  you  treacherous,  ai  d  then  wifh'd  >ou  true, 
Sooth'd  by  'h^fe  withes,  by  myleit  deteiv'd, 
I  fondiy  hop'd.  and  what  I  ho;  'd  beiiev'd.— 
Cruel !   10  whom  ?   Ah  !  whrru-r  fhould  I  flee, 
F''e:.d*,  f  rrui't,  fame,  deierted  all  for  thee  1 
On  whom  but  \cu  nsv  tainting  brealt  repole  ? 
With  whom  hut  you  deiiofit  all  its  woes?— 
To  v\h  -in  hut  \ou  explain  i:s  itiflc-d  groan? 
An. i  live  for  whom  ?  but  love  and  you  alone  ? 
What  hand  to  piobe  my  bleeding  heart  be  found: 
What  hand    to    heal? — but    his   that  gave    the 

wound  ?— 

O  dreadful  chaos  of  the  ruin'd  mind  ! 
Lo-v  to  itfelf,  to  virtue,  humankind  ! 
From  earth,  from  heaven   a  meteor  flaming  wide, 
Link'd  to  no  fyftem.  to  no  world  ally'd ; 
A  blank  of  nati  re,  vanifh'd  every  thought 
That  nature,  reafon,  that  experience  t-tught, 
Paft,  prefent,  future  trice,  alike  deftroy'd, 
Where  love  alone  can  rill  the  mighty  void: 
That  love  on  unreturuing  pinions  flown 
"We  grafp  a  (hade,  the  noble  1'ubftance  gone— 
From  one  ador'd  a:.d  once  ado:  ing,  dream 
Ot  friendship's  tenderntfs — ev'n  cold  eiteem 
(Humble  our  vows)  rejected  with  difdain, 
Alk  a  lad  conference,  but  a  parting  ftrain. 
More  fuppliant  ftill,  the  wretched  fuit  advance,  •' 
Plead  for  a  look,  a  momentary  glance, 
A  letter,  token — on  deduction's  brink 
We  catch  the  feeble  plank  of  hope,  and  (ink.— 
In  thole  dread  moments,  when  the  hov'ring 

flame 

Scarce  languifh'd  into  life,  again  you  came, 
Purfued  again  a  too  fuccefsful  theme, 
And  dry'd  my  eyes,  with  your's  again  to  flream  ; 
When  treach  rous  tears  your  venial  faults  con- 

fefs'd, 

Ard  half  d.ffembled,  half  excus'd  the  reft, 
To  kindred  griefs  taught  pity  from  my  own, 
Sighs  I  return'd,  and  echu'd  groan  for  groan  ; 
Yourfelf  reproaches  (titling  mine,  approv'd, 
And  much  I  credited,  for  much  I  lov'd. 

Not  long  the  foul  this  doubtful  dream  prolongs 
If  prompt  to  pardon,  not  forget  its  wrongs, 
It  fcorns  the  traitor,  and  with  confcious  pride 
Scorns  a  bafe  felf,  deferting  to  his  fide ; 
Great  by  misfortune,  greater  by  defpair, 
Its  heaven  once  loft,  rejedb  aii  humbler  care, 
To  dr>nk  the  diegs  of  languid  joys  dildains, 
And  flies  a  pafiion  but  perceiv'd  from  pains ; 
Too  juft  the  rights  another  claims  to  (teal, 
Too  good  its  feelings  to  wifli  virtue  feel, 
Perhaps  too  tender  or  too  fierce,  my  foul 
Dilciaiming  half  the  heart,  demands  the  whole,— 


I  blame  thee  not,  that,  fickle  as  thy  race, 
ew  loves  invite  thee    and  the  old  efface, 
That  cold,  infenfible,  thy  foul  appears 
To  virtue's fmiles,  to  virtue's  very  tears; 
But  ah  '.  an  heart  whofe  tendernef*  you  knew, 
i'hat  offer'd  heaven,  but  fecorid  vows  to  you, 
[n  fond  prefumption  that  fecurely  play'd, 
Securely  flumber'd  in  your  friendly  (hade, 
Whofe  every  weaknefs,  every  figh  to  lhare, 
The  powers  that  haunt  the  perjur'd,  heard  yw 

fwear ; 

Was  this  an  heart  you  wantonly  refigTi'd 
Victim  to  fcorn.  to  ruin,  and  mankind  ? 
Was  this  an  heart — O  fhame  of  honour,  truth, 
Of  blufhmg  candour,  and  ingenuous  youth  1 
Wh;tt  means  thy  pity?  what  can  itreitoie  ? 
The  grave    that  yawns  till   general  doom's  n» 

niure, 

As  Coon  (hall  quicken,  as  my  torments  ceafe, 
R.ock'd  on  tht  lap  of  innocence  and  peace, 
As  iiniies  and  joy  this  penfive  brow  invade, 
And  fmooth  the  traces  by  affliction  mac'e ; 
Flames  once  extinguith  d  virtue's  lamp  divine. 
And  vifits  honour,  a  deierted  (brine  ! 
No,  wretch,  too  long  on  paffion's  ocean  toft, 
Not  heaven  itfelf  reitores  the  good  you  ioft  ; 
The  form  esiils  not  that  thy  fancy  dream'd, 
A  fiend  purfues  thee  that  an  angel  feera'd ; 
ImpatSve  to  the  touch  of  realbn's  ray 
His  fairy  phantom  melts  in  clouds  away ; 
Yet  take  my  pardon  in  my  lalt  farewell, 
The  wounds  you  gave,  ah  cruel !  never  feel ! 
Fated  l.ke  me  to  court  and  curfe  thy  fate, 
To  blend  in  dreadful  union  love  and  hate  ; 
Chiding  the  prefent  moment's  flumb'nng  hafte. 
To  dread  the  future,  and  deplore  the  pa(t ; 
Like  me  condemn  th  effedt,  the  caufe  approve, 
Renounce  the  lover,  and  retain  the  love. 
Ye-,  love — ev'n  now  in  this  ill-fated  hour, 
An  exile  from  thy  joys,  I  feel  thy  power. 
The  fun  to  me  his  noontide  blaze  that  fhrouds 
In  browner  horrors  than  when  veil'd  in  clouds, 
The  moon,  faint  light  that  melancholy  throws, 
The  dreams  that  murmur,  yet  not  court  repole, 
The  breezes  fickening  with  my  mind  s  difeafe, 
And  vallies  laughing  to  all  eyes  but  tbele, 
Proclaim  thy  abfence,  love,  whofe  beam  alone 
Lighted  my  morn  with  glories  not  its  own. 
O  thou  of  generous  paffions  pureft,  beft  ! 
Soon  as  thy  flame  (hot  rapture  to  my  bread, 
Each  pulle  expanding,  trembled  with  delight. 
And  aching  vilion  drank  thy  lovely  light, 
A  new  creation  brighten'd  to  my  view, 
Nurs'd  in  thy  fmiles  the  focial  paliions  grew. 
New  drung,    the   thrilling    nerves    harmonious 

rofe, 

And  beat  fweet  unifon  to  others  woes, 
Slumb'ring  no  more  a  Lethe's  lazy  flood 
In  generous  currents  fwell'd  the  fprightly  blood. 
No  longer  now  to  partial  dreams  confin'd, 
Spread  like  an  ocean,  and  embrac'd  mankind, 
No  more  concentering  in  itfelf  the  blaze 
The  foul  diflus'd  benevolence's  rays, 
Kindled  on  earth,  purfued  the  ethereal  road, 
In  hallow'd  flames  afcended  to  its  God.— • 

.  Yes,  love,  thy  dar  of  generous  influence  cheers 
Our  gloomy  dwelling  in  this  vale  of  tears. 


POEMS. 


5*5 


What !  if  a  tyrant's  Wafting  hand  deftroys 
Thy  <\vellin;j  bloffoms  of  expected  joys, 
Converts  to  poifon  what  for  life  WHS  given, 
Thy  manna  diopping  from  its  native  heaven, 
Still  love  victorious  triumphs,  (till  confeft 
The  nobleft  tranfport  that  can  warm  the  breaft  ; 
Yes  traitor,  yes,  my  heart  to  nature  true, 
Adores  the  paffion,  and  detefts  but  you. 

ON  REBUILDING  COMBE-NEVILLE, 

fftar  Kitigflon,  Surrey,  once  tbt  Seat  of  the  fa 
mous  Hing-making  Earl  of  IVariuiik,  and  late 
in  the  Pojeffion  of  the  Family  of  Harvey. 

YE  modern  domes  that  rife  elate 

O'er  yonder  proftrate  wails, 
In  vain  your  hope  to  match  the  ftate 

Of  Neville's  ancient  halls. 

Dread  manfion  !  on  thy  Gothic  tower 

Were  regal  (landards  rais'd  ; 
The  rofe  of  York,  white  virgin  flower, 

Or  red  Lancaftria's  blaz'd. 

•Warwick,  high  chief,  whofe  a%vful  word 

Or  (hook,  or  nVd  the  throne, 
Spread  here  his  hofpitable  board, 

Or  warr'd  in  tilts  alone. 

When  Combe  her  garter'd  knights  beheld 

On  barbed  fteeds  advance, 
Where  ladies  crown'd  the  tented  field, 

And  love  infpir'd  the  lance. 

Hiftorc  heralds  here  array'd 

Fair  acts  in  gorgeous  ftyle, 
But  heroes  toils  were  beft  repay'd 

By  bafhful  beauty's  fmile.— 

So  flourifh'd  Combe,  and  flourifh'd  long 

With  lords  of  bounteous  foul ; 
Her  walls  ftill  echoed  to  the  long, 

And  mirth  Hill  drain'd  her  bowl. 

And  ftill  her  courts  with  footfteps  meek 

The  fainting  traveller  preft, 
Still  milery  flufh'd  her  faded  cheek 

At  Harvey's  genial  feait. — 

Lov'd  feat,  how  oft,  in  childifh  eafe, 

Along  thy  woods  I  Itray'd, 
Now  vent'rous  climb'd  embow'ring  trees, 

Now  fported  in  their  fliade, 

Along  the  bills  the  chafe  I  led 

With  echoing  hounds  and  horns, 
And  left  for  thee  my  downy  bed, 

Unplanted  yet  with  thorns. 

Now,  langu'd  with  the  noontide  beams, 

Esplor'd  thy  *  precious  fprings 
That  proudly  fbw  f,  like  Sula's  itreams, 

To  tem|>er  cups  for  kings. 

*    Hampton-Court  Palace    is  fitpplied    with 
Ivater  from  tne  fprings  »n  Cambe  Hills. 
f  "  There  Sula  by  Choapes'  amber  ftream, 
"  The  drink  of  none  but  king's."     MILTON. 


But  foon,  infpir'd  with  nobler  powers, 

1  fought  thy  awful  grove  ; 
There  frequent  footh'd  my  evening  hours 

That  belt  deceiver  love. 

Each  fmiling  joy  was  there,  that  fprings 

In  life's  delicious  prime  ; 
There  young  ambition  plum'd  his  wings, 

And  mock'd  the  flight  of  time.— 

There  patriot  paffions  fir'd  my  breaft 

With  freedom's  glowing  themes, 
And  virtue's  image  rofe  confeil 

In  bright  Platonic  dreams.— 

Ah  me  !  my  dreams  of  harmlefs  youth 

No  more  thy  walks  invade, 
The  charru  is  broke  by  fober  truth, 

Thy  fairy  viiions  fade. — 

No  more  unftain'd  with  fear  or  guilt 

Such  hours  of  rapture  fmile, 
Each  airy  fabric  fancy  built 

Is  vanifh'd  as  thy  pile  !— 

On  Lady  Pomfrefs   Prefenting  the  Univerfity  of 
Oxford  <witb  her  CoUe&ion  of  Statues. 

WELCOME  again  the  reign  of  ancient  arts ! 
Welcome  fair  modern  days  from  Gothic  night* 
Though  late,  emerging,  fun  of  fcience  hail '. 
Whofe  gloriius  rays  enlightened  Greece  and  Rome, 
Illuftrious  nations  !  then'*  was  empire's  feat, 
Their's  virtue,  freedom,  each  enchanting  grace; 
Sculpture  with  them  to  bright  perfection  rofe, 
Sculpture,  whofe  bold  Prometluan  hand  mfurm'd 
The  ftubborn  mafs  with  life— in  rretted  gold 
Or  yielding  marble,  to  the  raptur'd  eye 
Difpby'd  the  mining  conclave  oftiie  ikie«, 
And  chiefs  and  fages  gave  the  paflicns  form, 
And  virtue  fliape  corporeal :  taught  by  her 
The  obedietit  brafs  dillblv'd  ; 
In  love's  foft  fires  thy  winning  charms  fhe  ftole, 
Thou  mild  retreating  Medicean  fair. 
She  mark'd  the  flowing  dryads  lighter  ftep, 
The  panting  bofom,  garments  flowing  loofe, 
And  wanton  trefies  waving  to  the  wind.— 
Ajjain  by  Pomiret's  generous  care,  thefe  ftores 
Of  ancient  fame  reviiit  learning's  feats, 
Their  old  abode.    O  reverence  learning's  feat?, 
Ye  beauteous  arts !    for   know,    by    learning'* 

I'm  lies 

Ye  grew  immortal— Know,  however  fair 
Scu'pture  arid  painting,  fairer  poetry 
Your  elder  filter,  from  the  Aonian  mount, 
Im.igination's  fruitful  realm,  fupply'd 
The  rich  material  of  your  lovely  loil. 
Her  fairy  forms,  poetic  fancy  full 
Peopled  the  hills,  and  vales,  and  fabled  grores 
With  fhapes  celeftial,  and  by  fountain  fide 
Saw  tauns  with  wanton  fatyrs  lead  the  dance 
With  meek-ey'd  naiads ;  faw  your  Cyprian  queen 
Akenrling  from  the  ocean's  wave  ; 
Poetic  fancy  in  M.ouian  fong 
Pictiir'd  iminorul  Jove,  ere  Phidias'  hands 
Sublime  with  all  his  thunders  form'd  the  god. 
Here  then  uniting  with  your  kindred  art, 
Majeftic  Grecian  fculpture  deign  to  dwell. 


THE  WORKS   OF  LOVIBOND. 


Here  fliacJes  of  Academe  again  invite, 
Athenian  philofophic  mades,  and  here 
Ye  Roman  forms,  a  nobler  Tyber  flows. 
Come,  Pomfret,  come,  of  rich  munificence 
Partake  the.  fame,  though  candid  blufties  rife, 
And  modeft  virtues  flmn  the  blaze  of  day. 
Pomfret,  not  all  thy  honours,  fylendid  train, 
Not  the  bright  coronet  that  binds  thy  brow, 
Not  all  thy  lovely  offspring,  radiant  queens 
On  beauty's  throne,  fhall  coufecrate  thy  praife 
Like  fcience,  boafting  in  thy  genial  beam 
Increafing  ftores :  in  thefe  embowering  fhades 
Stands  the  fair  tablet  of  eternal  fame  ; 
There  memory's  adamantine  pen  records 
Her  fons  ;  but  each  illuftrious  female's  name 
In  golden  characters  engrav'd,  defies 
Envy  and  time,  fuperior  to  their  rage — 
Pomfret  fhall  live,  the  generous  Pomfret  join'd 
With  Caroline,  and  martial  Edward's  queen, 
And  great  Eliza,  regal  names,  like  thee 
Smiling  on  arts  and  learning's  fons  they  reign'd. — 
And  fee  wkere  Weftmorland  adorns  the.  train 
Of  learning's  princely  patrons  !  lo,  I  fee 
A  new  Pantheon  rife  as  that  of  old 
Famous,  nor  founded  by  ignobler  hands  ; 
Though   thine,   Agrippa,   fway'd   the   helm    of 

Rome  •. 

I  fee  enfhrin'd  majeftic  awful  forms, 
Chiefs,  legiflators,  patriots,  beauties,  gods. 
Not  him  by  fuperftitious  fears  ador'd 
With  barbarous  facrifice  and  frantic  zeal, 
Yet  not  uncelebrated  nor  unfung,  for  oft 
Thou,  flumb'ring  Cupid,  with  inverted  torch 
Betokening  mildeft  fires,  mall  bear  the  fighs 
Of  virtuous  love-fick  youths.    You  too  fhall  reign, 
Celeftial  Venus,  though  with  charter  rites, 
Addreft  with  vows  from  purer  votaries  heard. 

ON  RURAL  SPORTS. 

THE  fun  wakes  jocund — all  of  life,  who  breathe 
In  air,  or  earth,  and  lawn,  and  thicket  rove, 

Who  fwim  the  furface,  or  the  deep  beneath, 
Swell  the  full  chorus  of  delight  and  love. 

But  what  are  ye,  who  cheer  the  bay  of  hounds, 
Whole  levell'd  thunder  frightens  morn's  repofe> 

Who  drag  the  net,  whofe  hook  infidious  wounds 
A  writhing  reptile,  type  of  mightier  woes  ? 

I  fee  ye  ccme,  and  havoc  loofe  the  reins, 
A  general  groan  the  general  anguifh  (peaks, 

The  ftately  ftag  falls  butcher'd  on  the  plains, 
The  dew  of  death  hangs  clammy  on  his  cheeks. 

Ah  I  fee  the  pheafant  fluttering  in  the  brake, 
Green,  a/ure,  gold,  but  undiftinguilh'd  gore! 

Yft  fpare  the  tenants  of  the  filver  lake  '. 

—I  call  in  vain — They  gafp  upon  the  fliore. 

A  yet  ignobler  band  is  guarded  round 

With   dogs  of  war — the   fpurning   bull   their 
prize ; 

And  now  he  bellows,  humbled  to  the  ground  ; 
And  now  they  fprawl  in  bowlings  to  the  ikies. 

You  too  muft  feel  their  miffile  weapon's  power, 
Vliofe    clarion   charms  the   midnight's  fullen 


Thou  the  morn's  harbinger,  muft  mourn  the  honr 
*  Vigil  to  falls,  and  penitence,  and  prayer. 

Muft  fatal  wars  of  humun  avarice,  wage 

For  milder  conflicts,  love  their  palm  defign'd  ? 

Now  flieath'd  in  fteel,  muft  rival  reafon's  rage, 
Deal  mutual  death,  and  emulate  mankind  ? 

Are  thefe  your  fovereign  joys,  creation's  lords  ? ' 
Is  death  a  banquet  for  a  godlike  foul? 

Have  rigid  hearts  no  fympathifmg  chords 

For  concord,  order,  for  th'  harmonious  whole  ? 

Nor  plead  necefilty,  thou  man  of  bjbod  ! 

Heaven  tempers  power  with  mercy — Heaven 

revere ! 
Yet  flay  the  wolf  for  fafety,  lamb  for  food ; 

But  fhorten  mifery's  pangs,  and  drop  a  tear ! 

Ah  !  rather  turn,  and  breath  this  evening  gale, 
Uninjur'd,  and  uninjuring  nature's  peace. 

Come,  draw  beft  nectar  from  the  foaming  pail, 
Come,  pen  the  fold,  and  count  the  flock's  in- 
creafe ! 

See  pafturing  heifers  with  the  bull,  who  wields 
Yet  budding  horns,  and  wounds  alone  the  foil ! 

Or  fee  the  panting  fpaniel  try  the  fields 

While  bursting  coveys  mock  his  wanton  toil ! 

Now  feel  the  fleed  with  youth's  elaftic  force 
Spontaneous  bound,  yet  bear  thy  kind  controul ; 

Nor  mangle  all  his  finevvs  in  the  courfe, 

And  fainting,  ftaggering,  lafh  him  to  the  goal ! 

Now  fweetly  pcnfive,  bending  o'er  the  ftream, 
Mark  the  gay,  floating  myriads,  nor  moleft 

Their  fports,  their  flumbers,  but  inglorious  dream 
Of  evil  fled  and  all  creation  bleft ! 

Or  elfe,  beneath  thy  porch,  in  focialjoy 
Sit  and  approve  thy  infant's  virtuous  hafte, 

Humanity's  fweet  tones  while  all  employ 
To  lure  the  wing'd  domeftics  to  repaft ! 

There  fmiling  fee  a  fop  in  fwelling  ftate, 
The  turkey  ftrut  with  valour's  red  pretence, 

And  duck  row  on  with  waddling  honeft  gait, 
And  goofc  miftake  fokmnity  for  fenfe  ! 

While  one  with  front  erecl  in  fimple  pride 
Full  firmly  treads,  his  confort  waits  his  call, 

Now  deal  the  copious  barley,  waft  it  wide, 
That  each  may  tafte  the  bounty  meant  for  all ! 

Yon  bafhful  fongfters  with  retorted  eye 

Purfue  the  grain,  yet  wheel  contracted  flight, 

While  he,  the  bolder  fparrovv,  fcornsto  fly, 
A  fon  of  freedom  claiming  Nature's  right. 

Liberal  to  him  ;  yet  ftill  the  wafted  grain, 
Choiceft  for  thofe  of  modeft  worth,  difgenfe, 

And  blefling  Heaven  that  wakes  their  grateful 

flrain, 
Let  Heaven's  beft  joy  be  thine,  Benevolence  ! 

While  flocks  foft  bleatings,  echoing  high  and  clear, 
The  neigh  of  fteeds,  refponfivc  o'er  the  heath, 

Deep  lowings  fweeter  melt  upon  thy  ear 

Than  fcreams  of  terror  and  the  groans  of  death. 

Yet  founds  of  woe  delight  a  giant  brood  ; 

Fly  then  mankind,  ye. young,  ye  helplefs  old ! 

*  Shrave  tfu 


POEMS. 


58; 


For  not  their  fury,  a  confuming  flood, 

DiiUnguifhes  the  {hepherd,  drowns  the  fold. 

But  loofen  once  thy  gripe,  avenging  law ! 

Eager  on  man,  a  nobler  chafe,  they  ilart ; 
Now  from  a  brother's  fide  a  dagger  draw, 

Now  fheath  it  deeper  in  a  virgin's  heart. 

See  as  they  reach  ambition's  purple  fruits 

Their  reeking  hands  in  nation's  canrage  dyed ! 

No  longer  bathing  in  the  blood  of  brutes, 
They  fwim  to  empire  in  a  human  tide. 

But  fee  him,  fee  the  fiend  that  others  flung, 

With  icorpion  conlcience  lafh  himfelf,  the  laft ! 

See  feftering  in  the  bofom  where  they  fprung 
The  fury  pafiions  that  laid  nature  wafte  ? 

Behold  the  fell-tormentor  drag  his  chains, 

And  weary  heaven  with  many  a  fruitlefs  groan ! 

By  pining  fafts,  by  voluntary  pains, 

Revenging  nature's  caufe,  he  pleads  his  own. 

Yet  proftrate,  fuppliant  to  the  throne  above, 
He  calls  down  heaven  in  thunders  to  purfue 

Heaven's   fancied  foes  — O  God  of    peace  ai>d 

love, 
The  voice  of  thunder  is  no  voice  from  you  ! 

Miflaken  mortal !  'tis  that  God's  decree 
To  fpare  thy  own,  nor  fhed  another's  blood  : 

Heaven  breathes  benevolence,  to  all,  to  thee ; 
Each  being's  blifs  confummates  general  good. 


ODE  TO  CAPTIVITY. 

WRITTEN   IN  THE  LAST  WAR. 

O  STERN  captivity  !  from  Albion's  land 
Far,  far,  avert  the  terrors  of  thy  rod  ! 
O  wave  not  o'er  her  fields  thy  flaming  brand  ! 
O  crufh  not  freedom,  faireft  child  of  God  I— 
Bring  not  from  thy  Gallic  fhore 
The  galling  fetters,  groaning  oar ! 
Bring  not  hither  virtue's  bane,  1 
Thy  lifter  fuperftition's  train  ! 
O  fpare  from  fanguine  rites  the  filver  floods ! 
Nor  haunt  with   fhapcs  obfcene  our  unpolluted 

woods  I— 
Is  yet  too  weak,  rapcious  power,  thy  throne  ? 

While  the  chain'd  continent  thy  vafl'al  waits, 
The  Rhine,  the  Danube,  and  the  founding  Rhone, 
Proclaim  thy  triumphs  through  an  hundred  Hates. 
See  Valentia's  fmiling  vales 
Courted  for  thee  by  ocean's  gales  I 
Through  *  yawning  vaults  on  Tagus'  flreams, 
Thine  revenge's  dagger  gleams: 
Thy  fury  burfts  on  Rome's  devoted  head, 
In  vain  the  Scipios  lived,  the  Decii,  Cata  bled  ? 

Be  thefe  thy  bounds— whofe  laws  with  monarch's 

reign, 

To  this  fair  ifle  how  impotent  thy  hate  ! 
Where  Pitt,  fo  righteous  Heaven  and  George  or 
dain, 
In  wifdom  guides  the  thunder  of  the  fkate. 

*  The  late  confpirdcy  againjl  the  Portugaefe  Govern 
ment  -was  planned  amid  the  mint  of  that  unfortunate 
tafital. 


That  thunder  fh'ook  on  *  Afric's  fliore, 
The  howling  wild  where  lions  roar; 
In  f  weilern  worlds  its  awful  powers 
Sunk  aftoniih'd  Bourbon's  towers; 
That  thunder  founding  o'er  the  Celtic  main, 
Roll'd  to  JLutetia's  walls  along  the  affrighted  Seine 

Daughters  of  Albion  !  ftrew  his  paths  with  flowers, 
O  wake  for  him  the  lute's  harmonious  chord! 

His  name  be  echoed  in  your  feftial  bowers, 
Who  guards  Britannia  from  a  foreign  lord! 
Happy  fair,  who  feated  far 
From  haughty  conquerors,  barbarous  war, 
Have  heard  alone  in  tragic  fongs 
Of  cities  ftorm'd  and  virgins  wrongs, 

There  felt  the  daughters,  parents,  conforts  groan, 

And  wept  hiftoric  woes,  unpradtis'd  in  your  own? 

Have  you  not  heard  how  Sion's  daughters  mourn'd 
Their  proitrate  land  ?— how  Greece  her  vidinw 

tore 

From  flaming  altars  ? — captive  queens  they  turn'd 
From  Troy  reluclant — on  the  fea-beat  fliore 
Their  eyes  to  heaven  were  roll'd  in  vain, 
Their  eyes — for  not  the  victor's  chain 
Indulg'd  thy  privilege,  defpair  ! 
Their  hands  to  rend  their  flowing  hair ;    ' 
Behind  them  Troy  a  fmoking  ruin  lies, 
Before  lie  unknown  feas,  and   black  incumbent 
ikies. 

f  "  Ye  gales!"   they  cry'd,   "  ye  cruel  eaftern 

"  gales  I 

"  Adverfe  to  Troy,  confpiring  with  the  foe, 
"  That  eager  ftretch  the  victor's  fwelling  fails, 
"  To  what  unfriendly  regions'will  ye  blow  ? 
"  Shall  we  ferve  on  Doric  plains  I 
"  Or  where  in  Pithia  Pyrrhus.  reigns  ? 
"  Shall  Echo  catch  our  captive  tales  ? 
"  Joylefs  in  the  fprightly  vales 
"  Apidanus  thy  beauteous  current  laves, 
"  Say,  fhall  we  lit  and  dream  of  Simois'  fairer 
"  waves  ? 

"  Shall  Delos,  facred  Delos,  hear  our  woes  ? 
"  Where  when  Latona's  offspring  fprung  t« 

"  birth, 

;<  The  palm  fpontaneous,  and  the  laurel  rofe, 
"  O  Dian,  Dian,  on  thy  hallow'd  earth  ; 
"  With  Delian  maids,  a  fpotlefs  band, 
"  At  virtue's  altar  fhall  we  ftand 
"  And  hail  thy  name  with  choral  joy 
"  In  vok'd  in  vain  for  falling  Troy  ? 
;c  Thy  fliafts  victorious  fhall  our  fongs  proclaim, 
;'   When  not  an  arrow  fled  to  fpare  thy  votarie 
"  fhame. 

;(  To  Athens,  art's  fair  empire,  fhall  we  rove  ? 

"  There  for  fome  haughty  miftrcfs  ply  the  loom, 
'  With  daring  fancy  paint  avenging  'Jove, 
"  His  forked  lightnings   flaming  through  the 

"  gloom, 

"  To  blaft  the  bold  Titanian  race  : 
"  Or  deaf  to  nature-,  mud  we  trace 
"  .  In  mournful  fliades  our  haplcfs  war  ? 
"  What  art,  dread  Pallas,  to  thy  car, 


*  S.'n-gal.  f  Loiti/imrg. 

\  An  im'-tation  of  tie  firjl  tbirut  in  il>:  Hecuba  ff 
Euripides. 


THE   WORKS  OF  LOVIBOND. 


"  Shall  -"oke  th'  immortal  fteeds  ?  what  colours 

"'tell 
««  By  thine,  by   Pyrrhiis'  lance,  how  lofty  llion 

"  fell  ? 

«  Yen  cr,i'.l  Gods,  our  bleeding  country  falls, 
"  Her  chiefs  are  flain — fee  brothers,  fires  ex- 

'-'  pire ! 

*'  Ah  fee,  exulting  o'er  her  proftrate  walls, 
"  The  victor's  fury,  and  devouring  fire  ! 
"  Ada's  haughty  genius  broke, 
«'  Bows  the  neck  *.o  Europe's  yoke, 
"  Chains  are  all  our  portion  now, 
«  No  feftal  wreaths  fhall  bind  our  brow, 
«  Nor  Hymen's  torches  light  the  bridal  day.: 
«  O  death,  and  black  defpair,  behold  your  deftin'd 
"  prey  I" 

IMITATION  FROM  OSSIAN'S  POEMS, 

LATELY  PUBLISHED  BY  TKI  TITLE  OF  FINGAL, 
&C. 

BROWN  autumn  nods  upon  the  mountain's  head, 
The  dark  mift  gathers;  howling  winds  affail 

The  blighted  defert ;  on  its  mineral  bed 

Dark  rolls  the  river  through  the  fullen  vale. 
On  the  hills  dejected  fcene 
The  blafted  afh  alone  is  feen, 
"That  marks  the  grave  where  Connal  fleeps ; 
Gather'd  into  monld'ring  heaps 
From  the  whirlwind's  giddy  round, 
Its  leaves  beftrew  the  hallow'd  ground. 

Acrofs  the  mufing  hunter's  loiiefome  way 

Flit  melancholy  ghoits,  that  chill  the  dawn  of  day. 

Connal,  thou  flumber'ft  there,  the  great,  the  good ! 
Thy  long-fam'd  anceftors    what    tongue    can 

trace  ? 

Firm,  as  the  oak  on  rocky  heights,  they  flood; 
Planted  as  firm  on  glory's  ample  baib. 
Rooted  in  their  native  clime, 
Brav'd  alike  devouring  time, 
Full  of  honours,  full  ef  age, 
That  lofty  oak  the  winter's  rage 
Rent  from  the  promontory's  brow, 
And  death  has  bid  the  mighty  low. 
The  mountain's  mourn  the  confederated  tree  ; 
His  country  Connal  mourns ; — what  fon  fhall  rival 
thee  ? 

Here  was  the  din  of  arms,  and  here  o'erthrown 

The  valiant ! — mournful  are  thy  wars,  Fingal ; 
The  caverns  echo'd  to  the  dying  groan, 
The  fatal  fields  beheld  ,the  victor  fall ; 
Tall  amidft  the  hoft,  as  hills 
Above  their  vales  and  fubject  rills, 
His  arm,  a  tempeft  low'ring  high, 
His  fword,  a  beam  of  fummer's  flcy, 
His£yes,  a  fiery  furnace,  glare, 
His  voice  that  fnoo'k  th*  aftonifh'd  war,  , 
\Vas  thunder's  found:   He  fmote  the  trembling 

foes, 
As  fportive  infant's  ftaff  the  bearded  thiftle  mows. 

Onward  to  meet  this  hero,  like  a  ftorm,  , 
A  cloudy  florm,  the  mighty  Dargo  came  ; 

As  mountain  caves,  where  dulky  meteors  form 
His  hollow  eve-balls  flafh'd  a  livid  fiame. 
S    ' 


And  now  they  join'd,  and  now  they  wield 
Their  clafhing  fteel — refounds  the  field, 
Cnmora  heard  the  loud  alarms, 
Rinval's  daughter,  bright  in  arms, 
Her  hands  the  bow  victorious  bear, 
Luxuriant  wav'd  her  auburn  hair  ; 
Connal,  her  life,  her  love,  in  beauty's  pride, 
She  fqliow'd  to  the  war,  and  fought  by  Connal's 
'  fide. 

In  wild  defpair,  at  Connal'sfoe  me  drew 

The  fatal  firing,  impatient  flew  the  dart ; 
Ah  haplefs  maid  ! — with  erring  courfe  it  flew ; 
The  (haft  flood  trembling  in  her  lover's  heart. 
He  fell — fo  falls  by  thunder's  fhock 
From  ocean's  cliffs  the  rifted  rock. 
That  falls  and  plows  the  groaning  flrand— 
He  fell  by  love's  unwilling  hand. 
Haplefs  maid !  from  eve  to  day, 
Connal,  my  love  ;  the  breathlefs  clay 
My  love,  fhe  calls— now  rolls  her  frantic  eyes — 
Now  bends  them  fad  to  earth— fhe  finks,   fhe 
faints,  fhe  dies.— 

Together  reft  in  earth's  parental  womb, 
Her  faireft  offspring  ;  mournful  in  the  vale 

I  fit,  while,€iffuing  from  the  mofs-grown  tomb, 
Your  once-lov'd  voices  feem  to  fwell  the  gale.— 
Penfive  memory  wakes  her  powers, 
Oft  recals  your  fmiling  hours 
Of  fleeting  life,  that  wont  to  move 
On  downy  wings  of  youth  and  love  \ 
The  fmiling  hours  no  more  return  ; 
—All  is  hufh'd': — your  filent  urn 

The  mountain  covers  with  its  awful  fhade, 

Far  from  the  haunts  of  men  in  pathlefs  defert  laid. 

ODE  TO  YOUTH. 

YOUTH,  ah  flay,  prolong  delight, 
Clofe  thy  pinions  ilretch'd  for  flight ! 
Youth,  difdaining  Clver  hairs, 
Autumn's  frowns,  and  winter's  cares, 
DweH'ft  thou  but  in  dimple  fleek, 
In  vernal  fmiles  and  fummer's  chqek  ? 
On  fpring's  ambrofial  lap  thy  hands  unfold, 
They  bloffom  frefh  with  hope,  and  all  they  touch 
is  gold. 

Graver  years  come  failing  by ; 
Hark  !  they  call  me  as  they  fly ; 
Quit,  they  cry,  for  nobler  themes, 
Statefman,  quit  thy  boyifh  dreams  1 
Tune  to  crowds  thy  pliant  voice, 
Or  flatter  thrones,  the  nobler  choice  ! 

Deferting  virtue,  yet  affume  her  ftate ; 

Thy  fmiles,  that  dwell  with  love,  ah,  wed  them 
now  to  hate ! 

Or  in  victory's  purple  plain 

Triumph  thou  on  hills  of  flain ! 

While  the  virgin  rends  her  hair, 

Childlefs  fires  demand  their  heir, 

Timid  orphans  kneel  and  weep : 

Or,  where  the  unfunn'd  treafures  fleep, 
Sit  brooding  o'er  thy  cave  in  grim  repofe, 
There  mock  at  human  joys,  there  mock  at  hu 
man  woes. 

Years  away !  too  dear  I  prize 
Fancy's  haunts,  her  vales,  her  fldes; 


P    O    E 

Come,  ye  gales  that  fwell  the  flowers, 
Wake  my  foul's  expanding  powers  ; 
Come,  by  dreams  embow'r'd  in  wood, 
Celeftial  forms,  the  fair,  the  good ! 

With  moral  charms  affbciate  vernal  joys ! 

Pure  nature's  pleafures  thefe — the  relt  are  faftuon's 

toys. 

Come,  while  years  reprove  in  vain, 
Youth,  with  me,  and  rapture  reign ! 
Sculpture,  painting,  meet  my  eves, 
Glowing  ftill  -with  young  furprife  ! 
Never  to  the  virgin's  lute 
This  ear  be  deaf,  this  voice  be  mute  ! 

Come,  beauty,  caufe  of  anguifli.  heal  itsfmart, 

— Now   temperate   meafures  beat,  unalter'd  elfe 
my  heart. 

Still  my  foul,  for  ever  young, 

Speak  thyfelf  divinely  fprung  ! 

Wing'd  for  heaven,  embracing  earth, 

Link'd  to  all  of  mortal  birth, 

Brute  or  man,  in  focial  chain 

Still  link'd  to  all,  who  fuffer  pain. 
Purfue  the  eternal  law  !— one  power  above 
Connects,  pervades  the  whole — that  power  divine 
is  love. 

TO  THE  THAMES. 

NEARER  to  my  grove,  O  Thames! 
Leud  along  thy  fultry  ftreams, 
Summer  fires  the  ftagnant  air, 
Come  and  cool  thy  bofom  there  ! 
Trees  (hall  ihelter,  zephyrs  play, 
Odours  court  thy  fmiling  ftay  ; 
There  the  lily  lifts  her  head, 
Faireft  child  of  nature's  bed. 

Oh  Thames !  my  promife  all  was  vain : 
Autumnal  ftorms,  autumnal  rain 
Have  fpoil'd  that  fragrance,  ftript  thofe  fliades, 
Haplefs  flower  !  that  lily  fades. — 
What,  if  chance,  fweet  evening  ray, 
Or  weftern  gale  of  vernal  day, 
Momentary  bloom  renews, 
Heavy  with  unfertile  dews 
It  bends  again,  and  feemstocry, 
"  Gale  and  funfhine,  come  not  nigh  ! 
"  Why  reclaim  from  winter's  power 
fe  This  wither'd  ftalk,  no  more  a  flower !" 
Such  a  flower,  my  youthful  prime, 
Chill'd  by  rigour,  fapp'd  by  time, 
Shrinks  beneath  the  clouded  ftorm : 
What,  if  beauty's  beaming  form, 
And  Cambrian  virgins'  vocal  air, 
Expand  to  fmiles  my  brow  of  care: 
That  beam  withdrawn,  that  melting  found, 
The  dews  of  death  hang  heavier  round, 
No  more  to  fpring,  to  bloom,  to  be, 
I  bow  to  fate  and  Heaven's  decree. 

Come  then,  Cambrian  virgin,  come, 
With  all  thy  mufic  feek  my  tomb, 
With  all  thy  grace,  thy  modeft  flate, 
With  all  thy  virtues,  known  too  late  1 
Come,  a  little  moment  fpare 
From  pious  rites  and  filial  care  ! 
Give  my  tomb — no  heart-felt  figh, 
No  tear  convulfing  pity's  eye  ! 
Gifts  of  too  endearing  name 
For  you  to  grant,  for  me  to  claim; 


M    S.  $80, 

But. bring  the  fonnv- whofc  healing  founds 
Were  balm  to  all  my  fefteriug  wounds. 
Sring  the  lyre— by  mufic's  power 
My  foul  entranc'd  {hall  wait  the  hour, 
The  dread  majcftic  hour  of  doom, 
When  through  the  grave,  and  through  the  gloom 
Heaven  {hall  burft  in  floods  of  day  : 
Dazzled  with  fo  fierce  a  ray, 
My  aching  ey-.  s  fliall  turn  to  view 
Its  milder  beams  reflect  from  you. 

TO  MISS  K P . 

ENTT.E  Kitty,  take  the  lyre 
Thy  magic  hands  alone  infpire  ! 
But  wake  not  once  fuch  fwelling  chords 
As  roufe  ambition  s  ftormy  lords, 
Nor  airs  that  jocund  tabors  play 
To  dancing  youth  in  {hades  of  May, 
Nor  fongs  that  (bake  old  Picton's  towers, 
When  'fcaft  and  mufic  blend  their  powers ! 
But  notes  of  mildcft  accent  call, 
Of  plaintive  touch,  and  dying  fall ; 
Notes  to  which  thy  hand,  thy  tongue, 
Thy  every  tender  power  is  ftrung.— 
Cambrian  maid,  repeat  that  ftrain  ! 
Sooth  my  widow'd  feofom's  pain  ! 
Its  paflions  own  thy  melting  tones  ; 
Sighs  fucceed  to  burfting  groans; 
Soft  and  fofter  ftill  they  flow, 
Breathing  more  of  love  than  \voc ; 
Glifteningin  my  eye  appears 
A  tenderer  dew  than  bitter  tears; 
Springing  hope  defpair  beguiles, 
And  fadnefs  foftens  into  fmiles. 

I  quit  thy  lyre — but  ftill  the  train 
Of  fweet  fenfations  warms  my  braiu. 
What,  thoiigh  focial  joy  and  love 
Forget  to  haunt  my  fu'tlen  grove  : 
Though  there  my  foul,  a  ftagnunt  flood, 
Now  flows  its  own,  or  others  good, 
Emblem  of  yon  faded  flower, 
That,  chill'd  by  froft,  expands  no  more : 
The  dreary  fccne  yet  fometimes  clofea 
When  fleep  infpires  on  beds  of  rofes, 
Such  dear  delufions,  fairy  charms, 
As  fancy  dreams  in  virtue's  arms. 
For  fee,  a  gracious  form  is  near ! 
She  comes  to  dry  my  falling  tear. 
One  pious  hand  in  pity  fpread, 
Supports  my  elfe  uufheltcr'd  head ; 
The  other  waves  to  chafe  away 
The  fpectres  haunting  all  my  day  : 
She  xalls — above,  below,  around, 
Sweet  fragrance  breathes,  fweet  voices  found.—    , 

Such  a  balm  to  wounded  minds, 
Gentle  Kitty  {lumber  finds ; 
Such  a  change  ismifery'sdue — 
Who  wakes  to  grief  fhould  dream  of  you* 

TO  THE  SAME. 

AH  !  bow  to  mufic,  bow  my  lays 

To  beauty's  nobleft  art ; 
To  reach  the  bofom  mine  the  praife, 

But  thine  to  melt  the  heart. 

'Tis  mine  to  clofe  afflict ion's  wounds, 
To  brighten  pJtaiiure's 


59° 


THE   WORKS    OF  LOVIBOND. 


But  thine,  by  fweet-diffolving  founds, 
To  make  it  blifs  to  die. 

My  notes  but  kindle  cold  defire, 
f    Ah,  what  you  feel  for  me  ! 
Diviner  paflions  thine  infpire, 
Ah,  what  I  feel  for  thce  ! 

Aflbciate  then  thy  voice,  thy  touch, 

O,  wed  to  mine  thy  powers ! 
Be  fuch  at  leaft,  nor  blufli  at  fuch 

Connubial  union  ours ! 

TO  THE  SAME. 

WHY,  Kitty,  with  that  tender  air, 

Thofe  eyes  to  earth  inclin'd, 
Thofe  timid  blufhes  ?  why  defpair 

Of  empire  o'er  mankind  ? 

Ah,  know,  that  beauty's  Tufltft  arms 

Are  candour,  foftnefs,  cafe  ! 
Your  fweet  diftruft  of  pleafing  charmi 

Is  half  the  charm  to  pleafe.— 

Refpeft  your  own  harmonious  art ! 

For  love  fetureft  wounds, 
Secured  takes  th'  imprifon'd  heart 

Entranc'd  by  magic  founds  ! 

If  flowers  of  fiction's  growth  you  call 

This  wreath  that  truth  beftows ; 
Survey  around  your  Attic  wall 

Each  *  pencill' d  form  that  glows. 

And  afk  the  youths,  what  heavenly  fair 

Their  tendereft  vows  infpires  ? 
If  Juno's  more  than  regsri  air, 

Or  fierce  Minerva's  fires  ? 

*Tis  bafliful  Venus  they  prefer, 

Retiring  from  the  view, 
And  what  th^ir  lips  addrefs  to  her, 

Their  bofoms  feel  for  you. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

YOUR  bofom's  fweet  treafures  thus  ever  difclofe ; 

For  believe  my  ingenuous  confefiion, 
The  veil  meant  to  hide  them,  but  only  beftows 

A  foftnefs  tranfcending  expreflion. 

Good  Heaven,  cries  Kitty,  what  language  I  hear ! 

Have  I  trefpafs'd  on  chaftity's  laws  ? 
Is  my  tucker's  clear  muflin  indecently  clear  ? 

Is  it  no  fatin  apron,  but  gauze  ? 

Ah  no !-— not  the  leaft  fwelling  charm  is  defcried 
Through  the  tucker,  too  bafhfully  decent ; 

And  your  apron  hides  all  that  fliort  aprons  can  hide, 
From  the  faftuon  of  Eve  to  the  prefent. 

The  veil,  too  tranfparent  to  hinder  the  fight, 
Is  what  modefty  throws  on  your  mind  : 

That  veil  only  (hades,  with  a  tenderer  light, 
All  the  feminine  graces  behind. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

&  Si  un  arbre  avoit  du  fentiment,  il  fe  plairoit  a  voir 
"  celui  qui  le  cultive  fe  repofer  fous  fon  om- 

*  Drawings  from  antique  Jlatues, 


"  brage,  refpirer  le  parfum  de  fes  fleurs,  gouter 
"  la  douceur  de  fes  fruits :  Je  fuis  cet  arbre,  cul" 
"  tive  par  vous,  &  la  nature  m'  a  donne  unc 
"  ame."  MARMONTIL. 

AMID  thy  native  mountains,  Cambrian  fair, 
Were  fome  lone  plant  fupported  by  thy  care, 
Sav'd  from  the  blaft,  from  winter's  chilling  pow 
ers, 

In  vernal  funs,  in  vernal  {hades  and  fhowers, 
By  thee  re  Diving :  did  the  favoured  tree 
Exift,  and  bloffom  and  mature  by  thee  : 
To  that  fele&ed  plant  did  Heaven  difpenfe, 
With  vegetable  life,  a  nobler  fenfe  : 
Would  it  not  blefs  thy  virtues,  gentle  maid  ? 
Would  it  not  woo  thy  beauties  to  its  (hade  ? 
Bid  all  its  buds  in  rich  luxuriance  (hoot, 
To  crown  thy  fummer  with  autumnal  fruit, 
Spread  all  its  leaves,  a  pillow  to  thy  reft, 
Give  all  its  flowers  to  languifh  on  thy  breaft, 
Reject  the  tendrils  of  th'  Uxorious  vine, 
And  ftretch  its  longing  arms  to  circle  thine  ? 

Yes;  in  creation's  intellectual  reign, 
Where  life,  fenfe,  reafon,  with  progreffive  chain, 
Dividing,  blending,  form  th'  harmonious  whole  : 
That  plant  am  I,  dlftinguifh'd  by  a  foul. 

TO  THE  SAME. 
WITH  ANSON'S  VOYAGE. 
RAPTUR'D  traveller,  ceafe  the  tales 
Of  Tinian's, lawns,  Fernandas'  vales; 
Of  ifles,  concentering  nature's  charms, 
Lapt  in  peaceful  Ocean's  arms ; 
Of  that  Hefperian  world,  which  lies 
Beneath  the  fmile  of  fouthern  fkies, 
Where  zephyr  waves  unflagging  wings, 
Where  Albion's  fummers,  Latian  fprings 
Join  thy  autumns,  fmiling  France, 
And  lead  along  th'  eternal  dance  ! 

Thefe  enchanting  fcenes,  and  all 
That  wake  to  form  at  fancy's  call. 
And  all  the  fportive  pencil  traces, 
Are  feeble  types  of  living  graces. 
Of  moral  charms,  that  mental  throne 
Jnclouded  beauty  calls  her  own. 
Where  all  the  fun's  meridian  blaze 
g  twilight  gloom  to  virtue's  rays, 
^here,  with  richer  blended  fweets, 
Wedded  Spring  her  Autumn  meets; 
"here  Fernandes'  brighter  (hore, 
"here  a  purer  Chili's  ore, 
ruits  and  flowers  are  there  combin'd 
n  fairer  Tinian— Kitty's  mind. 

THE  COMPLAINT 

OF  CAMBRIA  TO  MISS  K— —  P  , 

Setting  to  Mufic,  and  Singing  Englifi  Verfes. 
Done  into  Engliflj  from  the  Welch  Original. 

)EGENERATE  maid,  no  longer  ours  ! 
"an  Saxon  ditties  fuit  thy  lyre  ? 
ccents  untun'd,  that  breathe  no  powers 
o  melt  the  foul,  or  kindle  martial  fire  ? 
It  ill  becomes  thee  to  combine 
Such  hoftile  airs  with  notes  divine, 
i  Cambrian  (hades,  the  druids  hallow'd-  bounds, 
,rhofe   infant  voice   lias  lifp'd  the  liquid  Celtic 
founds. 


POEMS. 


Revere  thy  Cambria's  flowing  tongue  ! 
Though  high-born  Hoel's  lips  are  dumb, 
Cadwallo's  harp  no  more  is  lining, 
And  filencc  fits  on  foft  Lluellyn's  tomb : 
Yet  fongs  of  Britifh  bards  remain, 
That,  wedded  to  thy  vocal  {train, 
Would  fvvell  melodious  on  the  mountain  breeze, 
And  roll  on  Millford's  wave  to  diflant  echoing 
feas.— 

O  fing  thy  fires  in  genuine  {trains  ! 
When  Rome's  refiillefs  arm  prevail'd, 
When  Edward  delug'd  all  my  plains  *, 
And  all  the  mufic  of  my  mountains  fail'd  ; 
When  all  her  flames  rebellion  fpread, 
Firmly  they  flood — O  fing  the  dead ! 
The  theme  majeftic  to  thy  lyre  belongs, 
To  Pifton's  lofty   walls,   and    Cambrian  virgins 
fongs.     • 

ON  A  PRESENT  TO  THE  AUTHOR 

OF  TWO  IMPRESSIONS  FROM  A  FINE  ANTIQUE 
SEAL  OF  THE   HEAD   OF  ALEXANDER  : 


The  one  by  Lady  P , 

MifsJ-^—P- 


on  Paper,  the  other  by 
— ,  in  Wax. 


FAIR  fculpture  of  Ammon's young  graces! 

My  lady  with  whim  (hall  we  tax  ? 
On  paper  who  marks  thy  faint  traces, 

Which  Stella  ftamps  lively  in  wax  ? 

Of  their  hearts  they  make  mutual  confeffion  ; 

That,  cold  to  emotions  once  felt, 
The  mother's  fcarce  yields  to  imprefiion — 

The  daughter's  can  foften  and  melt. 

ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE  MONUMENT 
IN  ARCADIA. 

O  YOU,  that  dwell  where  fhepherds  reign, 

Arcadian  youths,  Arcadian  maids, 
To  paftoral  pipe  who  danc'd  the  plain, 

Why  penfive  now  beneath  the  {hades  ? 

Approach  her  virgin  tomb,  they  cry, 

Behold  the  verfe  infcrib'd  above, 
Once  too  in  Arcady  was  I — 

Behold  what  dreams  are  life  and  love ! 

ON  THE  SAME. 

SWEET  Arcady,  where  fhepherds  reign, 
Your  fimple  youths,  your  finiple  maids, 

With  paftoral  dance  ftill  cheer  the  plain, 
Their  paftoral  pipe  ftill  charms  die  fhades : 

This  only  fong  ftill  meets  our  ear, 
It  fwells  the  breeze,  it  fills  the  grove ; 

What  joys  fo  fweet  as  nature's  here  ? 
What  joy  of  nature  fweet  as  love  ? 

HITCHIN  CONVENT. 

A  TALE. 

WHERE  Hitch's  gentle  current  glides3 

An  ancient  convent  ftands, 
Sacred  te  prayer  and  holy  rites, 

Ordain'd  by  pious  hands. 

*  Zdivard  I.  fut  to  death  all  the  Welcl:  Sards. 


Here  monks  of  faintly  BcnediA 

Their  nightly  vigils  kept, 
And  lofty  anthems  fhook  the  choir, 

At  hours  when  mortals  flept. 

But  Harry's  wide-reforming  hand 

That  facred  order  wounded; 
He  fpoke — from- forth  their  hallow'd  wall* 

The  friars  fled  confounded. 

Then  wicked  laymen  entering  in, 

Thofe  cloifters  fair  profan'd ; 
Now  riot  loud  ufurps  the  feat 

Where  bright  devotion  reign'd. 

Ev'n  to  the  chapel's  facred  roof, 

Its  echoing  vaults  along, 
Refounds  the  flute,  and  fprightly  dance, 

And  hymeneal  fong. 

Yet  fame  reports,  that  monkifh  fhades 

At  midnight  never  fail 
To  haunt  the  manfions  once  their  own, 

And  tread  its  cloifters  pale. 

One  night,  more  prying  than  the  reft, 

It  chanc'd  a  friar  came, 
And  enter'd,  where  on  beds  of  down 

Repos'd  each  gentle  dame. 

Here,  foftenirig  midnight's  raven  gloom, 
Lay  R  e,  blufhing  maidf 

There,  wrapt  in  folds  of  cyprefs  lawn, 
Her  virtuous  aunt  was  laid. 

He  ftop'd,  he  gaz'd,  to  wild  conceits 

His  roving  fancy  run, 
He  took  the  aunt  for  Priorefs, 

And  R  e  for  a  nun. 


It  hap'd  that  R- 


*s  capuchin, 


Acrofs  the  couch  difplay'd, 
To  deem  her  fifter  of  the  veil, 
The  holy  fire  betray'd. 

Accofting  then  the  youthful  fair, 

His  raptur'd  accents  broke ; 
Amazement  chill'd  the  waking  nymph; 

She  trembled  as  he  fpoke. 

Hail  halcyon  days  !  hail  holy  nun  ! 

This  wond'rous  change  explain : 
Again  religion  lights  her  lamp, 

Reviews  thefe  walls  again. 

For  ever  bleft  the  power  that  check'd 

Reformifts'  wild  diforders, 
ieftor'd  again  the  church's  lands, 

Reviv'd  our  facred  orders. 

To  monks  indeed,  from  Edward's  days, 
Belong' d  this  chafte  foundation ; 

Yet  fifter  nuns  may  anfwer  too 
The  founder's  good  donation. 

Ah,  well  thy  virgin  vows  are  heard ! 

For  man  were  never  given 
Thofe  charms,  referv'd  to  nobler  ends, 

Thou  fpotlefs  fpoufe  of  Heaven ! 

Yet  fpeak  what  caufe  from  morning  maft 

Thy  ling'ring  fteps  delays  : 
rlafte  to  the  deep-mouth'd  organ's  peal, 
To  join  thy  vocal  praife, 


THE  WORKS  OF  L 


Awake  thy  abbefs,  filters  all ; 

At  Mary's  holy  (hrine, 
With  bended  knees  and  fuppliant  eyes 

Approach,  thou  nun  divine  I— 
No  nun  am  I,  recov'ring  cried 

The  nymph  ;  no  nun,  I  fay, 
Nor  nun  wili  be,  unltfs  ;his  fright 
•    Should  turn  my  locks  to  gray. 

'Tis  trtte,  at  church  1  feldom  fail 

When  aunt  or  uncle  leads ; 
Yet  never  rife  by  four  o'clock 

To  tell  my  morning  beads. 

No  mortal  lover  yet,  I  vow^ 

My  virgin  heart  has  fix'd, 
H^ut  yet  I  bear  the  creature's  talk, 

Without  a  grate  betwixt. 

To  Heav'n  my  eye*  are  often  caft 

(From  Heav'n  their  light  began), 
Yet  deign  forvetimcs  to  view  on  earth 

Its  image  {lamp:  oh  man. 

Ah  me  !  I  fear  in  b')rrow'd  fhapc 

Thou  com'ft,  a  bufe  deceiver; 
Perhaps  the  r  evil,  to  tempt  the  faith 

Of  orthodox  believer. 

For  once  it;y  hand  at  mafquerade, 

A  re  veia:d  friar  preft  ; 
His  form  as  thine,  but  holier  found* 

The  ravifh'd  faint  addrefl. 

He  told  me  vows  no  more  were  made 

To  fenlelefs  ftone  and  wood, 
But  adoration  pnid  alone 

To  faints  of  flefli  and  blood. 

That  rofy  cheeks,  and  radiant  eyes, 

And  treffes  like  the  morn. 
Were  given  to  blefs  the  prefent  age, 

And  light  the  age  unborn  : 

That  maids,  by  whofe  obdurate  pride 

The  haplels  lover  ftll, 
Were  doom'd  to  never-dying  toils 

Of  leading  apes  in  hell. 

Refpeft  the  firft  command,  he  cried, 

Its  facrcd  laws  fulfil, 
And  well  obferve  the  precept  given 

To  Mofes—"  Do  not  kill." 

Thus  fpoke,  ah  yet  I  hear  him  fpeak ! 

My  foul's  fublime  phyfician  ; 
Then  get  thee  hence,  thy  doctrines  vile 

Would  fink  me  to  perdition. 

She  ceas'd— the  monk  in  fhades  of  night 
,   Confus'dly  fled  away, 
And  fupcrftition's  clouds  diflblv'd 
In  fenfe,  and  beauty's  ray. 

TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 

A  VERY  GOOD  ACTRESS. 

POWERFUL  is  beauty,  when  to  mortal  feats 

From  Heaven  defcends  the  heaven-cieated  good. 

When  fancy's  glance  the  fairy  phantom  meets, 
Nymph  of  the  fhade,  or  naiad  of  the  flood. 


So  blooms  Celena,  daughter  of  the  fides, 
Queen  of  the  joys  romantic  rapture  dream*, 

Her  cheeks  are  fummer's  damaflc  rofe,  her  eyes 
Steal  their   quick  lullre  from,    the    morning's 
beams. 

Her  airy  neck  the  mining  trefles  fhade ; 

In  every  wanton  curl  a  Cupid  dwells ; 
I'o  thefe,  diftrufling  in  the  graces*  aid, 

She  joins  the  mighty  charms  of  magic  fpdls. 

Man,  haplefs  man  in  vain  deftru&ion  flies, 

With  wily  arts  th'  enchantrefs  nymph  purfuesj 

To  varying  forms,  as  varying  lovers  rife, 
Shifts  the  bright  iris  of  a  thoufand  hues. 

Behold  th'  auflere  divine,  oppreft  by  years, 
Colics,  and  bulk,  and  tithes engender'd  care; 

The  found  of  woman  grates  his  aching  ears, 
Of  other  woman  than  a  fcripture  fair. 

Sudden  {he  comes  a  Deborah  bright  in  arms, 
Or  wears  the  paftoral  Rachel's  ancient  mien; 

And  now,  as  glow  gay-flufhmg  eaftern  charms, 
He  fighs  like  David's  fon  lor  Sheba's  queen. 

To  'Ch;.nge  the  china  trader  fpeeds  his  pace, 
Nor  heeds  the  chilly  north's  unripening  dames; 

"Tis  her's,  with  twinkling  eyes,  and  lengthen'^ 

face, 
And  pigmy  foot,  to  wake  forgotten  flames. 

.She  oft,  in  likenefs  of  th'  Egyptian  crone, 

too  well  inform'd,  relates  to  wond'ring  fwainj 

Their  amorous  plaints  preferr'd  to  her  alone: 
Her  own  relentlefs  breaft  too  well  explains. 

i-ee,  at  the  manor's  hofpitable  board 
Enters  a  fire,  by  infant  age  rtver'd ; 

from  {horten'd  tube  exhaling  fumes  afford 
The  incenfe  bland  that  clouds  his  forky  bcarj. 

Conundrums  quaint,  and  puns  of  jocund  kind, 
With  rural  ditties,  warm  th'  elated  'fquire, 

Yet  oft  fenfations  quicken  in  his  mind, 
Other  than  ale  and  jocund  puns  infpire. 

The  forms  where  bloated  dropfy  holds  her  feat, 
He  views,  unconlcious  of  magician's  guiles, 

Nor  deems  a  jaundic'd  vifage  lov'd  retreat 
Of  graces,  young  defires,  and  dimpled  fmile* 

Now  o'er  the  portal  of  an  antique  hall' 
A  Grecian  form  the  raptui'd  patriot  awes, 

The  hoary  buil  and  brow  fevere  recal 
Lycurgus,  founder  of  majcitic  laws. 

A  while  entranc'd,  he  dreams  of  old  renown, 
And  freedom's  triumph  in  Platsean  fields, 

Then  turns- -relaxing  lees  the  furrow'd  frown. 
To  melting  airs  the  fcften'd  marble  yields. 

I  fee  the  lips  as  breathing  life,  he  cries, 
On  icy  cheeks  carnation  blooms  difplay'd, 

The  penfive  orbs  are  pleafu re- beaming  eyes, 
And  Sparta's  lawgiver  a  blufhing  maid. 

There,  at  the  curtains  of  the  fhudd'ring  youth, 
Stiff  melancholy  pale  a  fpectre  {lands, 

Some  love-lorn  virgin's  (hade-— O  !  injur'd  trutb^ 
Deferted  phantom,  and  ye  plighted  hands, 

He  fcarce  had  utter'd — from  his  frantic  gaze 
The  vifion  fades — i'uccecds  a  flood  oi  light. 


POEMS. 


593 


0  friendly  fhadowf,  veil  him  as  the  blaze 
Of  beauty's  fun  emerging  from  the  night. 

Here  end  thy  triumphs,  nymph  of  potent  charms, 
The  laurell'd  bard  is  Heaven's  inurwrtal  cure  ; 

Him  nor  ilhifion's  fpeil  nor  philter  harms, 
Nor  mufic  floating  on  the  magic  air. 

The  myrtle  wane;  this  arm  imperial  hears, 
Reluctant  ghofts  and  frubhorn elves  obey: 

Its  virtuous  touch  the  midnight  fairy  fears, 
And  fhapes  that  wanton  in  Aurora's  ray. 

1  ceas'd  ;  the  virgin  came  in  native  grace, 

With   native   fmiles   that   ftrengchen   beauty's 

chain  : 
O  vain  the  confidence  of  mortal  race  ! 

My  laurell'd  head  and  myrtle  wand  are  vain. 

Again  wild  raptures,  kindling  paflions  rife, 
As  once  in  Andover's  autumnal  grove, 

When  looks  that  fpoke,  and  eloquence  of  fighs, 
Told  the  foft  mandate  of  another's  love. 

TO  AN  ACCOMPLISHED  LADY. 

IN  THE  MANNER  OF  WALLER. 

O  NVMPH  !  than  bled  Pandora  honour'd  more, 
What  gods  to  grace  thee  lavifh  all  their  ftore  ! 
XVe  fee  thy  form  in  awful  beauty  move, 
At  once  repelling  and  inviting  love ; 
We  fee  thy  mind  each  bright  perfection  reach 
That  genius  kindles,  and  the  graces  teach : 
Pallas,  to  form  that  matchlcfs  mind,  confpires 
With  wifdom's  coolnefs,  temp'ring  fancy's  fires; 
Here,  as  in  Eden's  blifsful  garden,  moot 
The  tree  of  knowledge  and  forbidden  fruit. 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  THAMES. 

O  THAMES  !  thy  clear  majeftic  ftream 
Shall  ever  flow,  my  raptur'd  theme ; 
Not  becaufe  Augufta's  pride 
Builds  her  greatnefs  on  thy  tide, 
Courted  by  worlds  in  other  oceans  found : 
Not  becaufe  proud  Cliefden  laves 
His  pendent  beeches  in  thy  waves ; 
Not  becaufe  thy  limpid  rills 
Reflect  on  Hampton's  towers,  or  Richmond's 

hills ; 

Or  Cooper's  mountain,  by  the  mufes  crown'd, 
Or  catch  the  blaze  from  Windfor's  beaming 

ftar, 
Sacred  to  patriot  chiefs,  the  boaft  of  peace  and 

war: 

Nor  yet  becaufe  thy  current  loves 
The  haunt  of  academic  groves  ; 
And  ftill  with  ling' ring  fond  delay 
Through  Egham's  vales  delights  to  ftray, 
Once  fcene  of  freedom's  claims,  heroic  cares : 

But  hail  thec,  Thames !  while  o'er  thy  meads 
F.liza  with  Louifa  leads 
Each  winning  grace  of  love  and  youth, 
Ingenuous  forms,  fair  candour  and  fair  truth : 
Oh  !  fan  their  evening  walk  with  mildeft  airs; 
So  Gallic  fpoils  fhall  crowd  thy  wealthy  fide, 
And  commerce  fwcll  her  {lores  with  each  re 
volving  tide. 
VOL.  XI. 


TO  MRS. 


READING  JULIA    WITH  TEARS,   DURING    A  HARD 
FROST. 

WHAT,  though  defcending  as  the  dews  of  morn, 
On  mifery's  fighs  your  tear  of  virtue  wait  j  ; 

Forget  the  fallen  Julia  !  you  were  born 

For  heart-expanding  joys  and  fmiling  fates. 

T«  (both  with  focial  pleafures  human  cares, 
To  call  the  mufe  to  Thames' s  frozen  gkides, 

To  wake  the  flumb'ring  fpringwith  vernal  airs, 
And  plant  an  Eden  in  December's  fliades ; 

To  deck,  like  *  Eve,  with  foft  officious  haftc, 
Your  banquet,  worthieft  of  her  an^cl  gueft  ; 

Amid  the  flowers  that  crown  the  fair  repaft, 
A  flower  yourfelf,  the  faireft  of  the  fcaft. 

There  the  great  giver  for  his  bounties  given 
Your  grateful  confort  blefiing,  bldles  too 

The  fweet  difpenfer  of  the  gifts  of  heaven, 
In  wonder's  filent  prayer  he  bleflcs  you  : 

Your  infants  there  reflecting  round  the  board, 
Maternal  graces  while  his  eye  approves ; 

One  tear  to  rapture  give  ! — then  fit  ador'rf 
The  gentle  mother  of  the  fmiles  and  loves. 

ON  MR.  BROWN'S 

ALTERATIONS   AT  CLERMONT-,  RESTORING 
HILLS,  SCOOPING  VALLEYS,  &C. 

AH  murmur  not,  art,  at  your  Brown's  innovation, 
You  are  ftill  the  fine  lady,  -.vith  lefs  affectation ; 
And  nature,  ah  !  pardon  his  hand  while  it  dreffes 
So  fweetly,  fo  fimply,  your  features  and  treffos ; 
Your  foft-fwelling  bofom  not  chaftely  concealing, 
Nor  faintly  difclofing,  nor  fully  revealing; 
Ah  !  pardon  his  hand,  if  it  haply  mould  venture 
In  fearch  of  coy  beauty  ^uite  down  to  the  centre. 

TO  LADY  F , 

ON   HER  MARRIAGE. 

THOUGH  to  Hymen's  gay  feafon  belong 
Light  airs,  and  the  raptures  ef  youth ; 

Yet  liflen  to  one  fober  fong; 
O  liften,  fair  Stella,  to  truth. 

Farewell  to  the  triumphs  of  beauty, 
To  the  foft  ferenade  at  your  bower, 

To  the  lover's  idolatrous  duty, 

To  his  vigils  in  midnight'sjlill  hour. 

To  your  frowns  darting  amorous  anguilh, 

To  your  fmiles  chafing  every  care, 
To  the  power  of  your  eyes  lively  languifh, 

To  each  glance  waking  hope  or  defpair. 

Farewell  to  foft  bards,  that  in  heaven 
Dipt  the  pencil  to  picture  your  praife, 

And  blended  the  colours  of  even" 
With  morning's  gay  opening  rays  t 

They  no  longer  on  Thames  fhall  proclaim  you 
A  naiad  new  fprung  from  the  flood, 

*  S'c  Milton's  Paradife  Lof,  Book  v.  from  line 


THE  WORKS   OF  LOVIBOND. 


JCor  to  Bufhy's  foft  echoes  fhall  name  you 
Bright  Dian,  the  queen  of  the  wood. 

Farewell  to  love's  various  feafoa, 

Smiling  days  hung  with  tempefts  and  night ; 
But  welcome  the  feign  of  fair  reafon, 

O !  welcome  fecurer  delight. 

O  !  welcome,  in  nature's  own  drefs, 

Pureft  pkafures  of  gentler  kind; 
O  \  welcome  the  power  to  blefs, 

To  redeem  fortune's  wrongs  on  mankind. 

Be  a  goddefs  indeed,  while  you  borrow 

From  plenty's,  unlimited  flore, 
To  gild  the  wan  afpecft  of  forrow, 

To  cheer  the  meek  eyes  of  the  poor. 

When  your  virtues  fhall  mix  with  the  ikies, 
,    When  your  beauty,  bright  phoenix,  decays, 
Jn  your  image  new  graces  fhall  rife, 
And  enlighten  pofterity's  days. 

Future  ages  fhall  trace  every  air ; 

Every  virtue  deriv'd  to  your  bl«od 
Shall  remember  that  Stella  was  fair, 

Shall  remember  that  Stella  was  good. 

SONG. 

,  .  « 

No  gaudy 'Rubens  ever  dare 

With  flauntiHg  genius,  rofy  loves, 
To  crowd  the  fcene,  in  funlhine's  glare, 

Expofing  her  the  mufc  approves. 

Let,  chafle  Pouflin,  thy  fhaded  ftream 

Reflect  her  penfrve,  under  air.; 
Let  evening  veil,  with  fober  beam, 

In  bafhful  night  the  bafhful  fair. 

VERSES 

WRITTEN  AFTER  FASSIMG  THROUGH  F1NDON, 
SUSSEX,  1768. 

*  Addrejed  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  IVboddefon  *,  of  King- 
Jlon  upon  Tbamet. 

WOODDESON  !  thefe  eyes  have  fee*  thy  natal  earth; 

Thy  Findon,  floping  from  the  fouthern  downs, 
Have  bleft  the  roof  ennobled  by  thy  birth, 

And  tufted  valley,  where  no  ocean  frowns. 

Thou  wert  not  born  to  plow  the  neighbouring 
main, 

Or  plant  thy  greatnefs  near  ambition's  throne, 
Or  count  unnumber'd  fleeces  on  thy  plain :— . 

The  mufes  lov'd  atid  nurs'd  thee  for  their  own! 

And  twin'd  thy  temples  here  with  wreaths  of 
w°rth>  [morn, 

And  fenc'd  thy  childhood  from  the  blights  of 
And  taught  enchanting  fong,  and  fent  thee  forth 

To  ftretch  the  bleffing  to  an  age  unborn : 

B^ft  bleffing !— what  is  pride's  unwieldy  ftate  ? 

What  awkward  wealth    from  Indian   oceans 

given  ? 
What  monarchs  nodding  under  empires'  weight, 

If  fcience  fmile  not  w  ith  a  ray  from  heaven  ? 

*  The  author  ofthrfe  poems  bad  been  educated 
vnder  tbis  gentleman,  for  whom  be  ever  retained 
the  mt$  affctliQTiate  regard. 


Witnefs  yon  ruins,  Arundel's  high  tower, 

And  Bramber,  now  the  bird  of  night's  refort  ? 

Your  proud  poffeflbrs  reign'd  in  barbarous  power; 
The  war  their  bufinefs,  and  the  chafe  their  fport ; 

Till  there  a  minftrel,  to  the  feaft  preferr'd, 
With    Cambrian    harp,    in    Gothic    numbers 
charm' d, 

Enlighten'd  chiefs  grew  virtuous  as  they  heard— 
The  fun  of  fcience  in  its  morning  warm'd.— 

How  glorious,  wL  n  it  blaz'd  in  Milton's  light, 
And  Shakfpeare's  flame,  to  full  meridian  day ! 

Yet  fmile,  fair  beam  !  though  floping  from  that 

height, 
Gild  out  mild  evening  with  a  fetting  ray. 

TO  A  LADY. 

THE  fimplc  fwain,  where  Zembla's  fnow* 

Are  bound  in  frozen  chains, 
Where  fcarce  a  fmile  the  fun  hcftowi 

To  warm  the  fullen  plains ; 

Not  once  conceives  that  fun  to  rife 

With  kinder,  brighter  ray, 
Nor  fouthern  vales,  Hefperian  flcics, 
To  bafk  in  fmiling  day. 

As  weak  my  thoughts  refpecting  thee : 

Muft  thou,  my  better  fun, 
Becaufe  but  fmiling  cold  on  me, 

Be  therefore  warm  to  none  ? 

STANZAS. 

"  Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear." 

MILTON. 

THE  bird  of  midnight  fwell'd  her  throat, 

The  virgins  liften'd  round 
To  forrow 's  deeply-warbled  note, 

To  fweet  but  folema  found : 

When  foon  the  lark  afcending  high, 
In  fun-beams  idly  play'd ; 

As  foon  to  greet  him,  fee,  they  fly- 
One  ptnfive  virgin  flay'd. 

She  ftay'd  to  hear  the  mourner  fing ; 

The  reft,  to  nature  true, 
The  flutter  of  the  gayer  wing 

The  vacant  fong  purfue. 

TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 

Who  objeffed  to  Sup  with  a  Party  of  both  Seset, 
that  tnet  at  a  Coffee-boir/e. 

O  FAR  from  Caroline,  fo  foft  a  maid, 
Be  cruel  coynefs,  pride,  and  cold  difdain  ! 
Who  now  of  man,  the  monfter  man,  afraid, 
Flies  the  gay  circle  of  the  focial  train. 

Away  vain  fears !  away  fufpicious  dreams, 
From  beauty,  virtue,  tendernefs,  and  truth ; 
From  eyes  that  dawn  with  wifdom's  mildeft  beams, 
From  harmlefs  Imiles  that  wait  on  gentle  youth. 

Far  other  years  and  other  nymphs  befit 
The  prudifh  form,  and  high  forbidding  brow  ; 
With  others  dwell; -or  frowns  or  fcornful  wit, 
With  nymphs  left  innocent,  lefs  fair  than  thou; 


POEMS. 


595 


With  her,  whofe  youth,  of  virtue's  mild  controul 
Impatient,  rufli'd  on  wanton  wild  defines; 
Now  prayer  or  fcandal  cheers  the  gloomy  foul 
That  pines  in  fecret  with  forbidden  fires:        » 

Or  her  that  triumph'd  in  her  lover's  fighs, 
As  round  their  brows  the  willow  garlands  bend ; 
She  now  deje&ed,  now  deferted  lies, 
Without  a  lover,  and  without  a  friend ! 

Another  fate  is  youthful  virtue's  fhare : 
Come  with  the  graces,  gentle  maid,  along : 
Come,  faircft  thou  among  the  young  and  fair, 
To  lead  the  dance,  or  join  the  virgins'  fong ; 
Come  Men  to  the  tale  that  youths  complain, 
To  thoufand  vows,  in  amorous  fighs  addreft ; 
Propitious  liften  to  the  raptur'd  ftrain, 
When  chafte  majeflic  paffions  fvvell  the  breaft. 

Too  long  exterior  charms  of  radiant  eyes, 
Andblufhing  cheeks,  the  captive  fenfe  controul; 
Thy  forms,  fair  harmony,  too  long  we  prize, 
Forget  the  fairer,  more  harmonious  foul ! 

Too  Jong  the  lovers  for  an  empty  fair 
At  heedlefs  eafe  inglorious  arts  advance ; 
Enough  for  them  to  deck  the  flowing  hair, 
Or  flutter  gaudy  with  the  pride  of  France. 

From  worth  with  beauty  nobler  leffons  taught, 
Each  youth  that  languifhes,  his  flame  lhall  prove 
By  generous  action  or  heroic  thought, 
Ana  merit  fame  by  arts  that  merit  love. 

Shall  once  again  the  Grecian  lyre  be  fining, 
Reftoring  Hymen's  mild  Arcadian  reign  ? 
Shall  patriot  eloquence  mflruct  the  tongue, 
And  fpoils  be  gather'd  from  the  martial  plain  ? 

O !  far  unlike  to  fuch  celeflial  flame 
The  paflion  kindled  from  impure  defires; 
Fatal  to  friends,  to  fortune,  and  to  fame, 
The  momentary  flafh  in  night  expires. 

Love's  lambent  fire  that  beams  from  virtue's  rays, 
Each  fordid  paflion  as  it  burns,  refin'd, 
Still  bright  and  brighter  with  benignant  blaze 
Embraces  friends,  a  country,  human  kind. 

A  DREAM. 

With  bridal  cake  beneath  her  head, 

As  Jenny  preft  her  pillow, 
She  dreamt  that  lovers,  thick  as  hops, 

Hung  pendent  from  the  willow. 

Around  her  fpe&res  (hook  their  chains, 

And  goblins  kept  their  flation ; 
They  pull'd,  they  pinch'd  her,  till  fhe  fwore 

To  ipare  the  male  creation. 

Before  her  now  the  buck,  the  beau, 

The  'fquire,  the  captain  trips ; 
The  modeft  feiz'd  her  hand  to  kifs, 

The  forward  feiz'd  her  lips. 

For  fome  fhe  felt  her  hofom  pant, 

For  fome  fhe  felt  it  fmart; 
To  all  ihe  »ave  enchanting  fmiles, 

To  one  me  gave  her  heart. 

She  dreamt (for  magic  charms  prevaiFd, 

Aad  iancy  play'd  her  farce  «n) 


That,  foft  reclin'd  in  elbow  chair, 
She  kifs'd  a  fleeping  parfon. 

She  dreamt— -but,  O  rafh  mufe  !  forbear, 

Nor  virgins  dreams  purfue ; 
Yet  bleft  above  the  gods  is  he 

Who  proves  fuch  vifions  true. 

THE  MULBERRY  TREE. 


FOR  London's  rich  city,  two  StafFordfhire  fwains. 
Hight  Johnfon,  hight  Garrick,  forlaking  their 

plains,  [by  his  tomb 

Reach'd  Shakfpeare's  own  Stratford,  where  flows 
An  Avon,  as  proudly  as  Fiber  by  Rome. 
Now  Garrick  (fweet  imp  too  of  nature  was  he), 
Would  climb  and  would  cat  from  his  mulberry 

tree; 

Yet  as  Johnfon,  lefs  frolic,  was  taller,  was  older, 
He  reach'd  the  firft  boughs  by  the  help  of  his 

fhoulder ;  [weather, 

Where,  flicker' d  from  famine,  from  bailiffs,  and 
Bards,  critics,  and  players,  fat  crowded  together  ; 
Who  devour'd  in  their  reach  all  the  fruit  they 

could  meet, 

The  good,  bad,  indifferent,  the  bitter  and  fweet : 
But  Garrick  climb'd  high  to  a  plentiful  crop, 
Then,  heavens !  what  vagaries  he  play'd  on  the 

top !  [tight, 

How,  now  on  the  loofe  twigs,  and  now  on  the 
He  flood  on  his  head,  and  then  bolted  upright ! 
All  features,  all  fhapes,  and  all  paflions  he  tried  ;"J 
He  danc'd'and  he  ftrutted,  he  laugh'd  and  he  £ 

cried,  ffide !  T 

He  prefented  his  face,  and  he  fhow'd  his  back- J 
The  noble,  the  vulgar,  flock'd  round  him  to  fee 
What  feats  he  perform'd  in  the  mulberry  tree : 
He  repeated  the  paftime,  then  opea'd  to  fpeak, 
But  Johnfon  below  niutter'd  ftrophes  of  Greek, 
While  Garrick  proclaim' d — fuch  a  plant  never 

grew, 

So  fofter'd  by  funihine,  by  foil,  and  by  dew". 
The  palm-trees  of  Delos,  Phoenicia's  fweet  grove, 
The  oaks  of  Dodona,  though  hallovv'd  by  Jove, 
With  all  that  antiquity  mows  to  furpafs  us, 
Compar'd  to  this  tree,  were  mere  fhrubs  of  Par- 

nailus.  [laid, 

Not  the  beeches  of  Mantua,  where  Tityrus  was 
Not  all  Vallombrofa  produc'd  fuch  a  (hade, 
That  the  myrtles  of  France,  like  the  birch  of  the 

fchools, 

Where  fit  only  for  rods  to  whip  genius  to  rules; 
That  to  Stratford's  old  mulberry,  faireft  and  beft, 
Thii  cedars  of  Eden  mufl  bow  their  proud  creft: 
Then  the  fruit — like  the  loaf  in  the  Tub's  pleafant 

talc,  [ale — 

That  was  fi!h,  flefh,  and  cuftard,  good  claret  and 
It  compriz'd  every  flavour,  was  all,  and  was  each, 
Was  grape,  and  was  pine-apple,  ne&ariae  and 

peach ;  [told, 

Nay  he  fwore,  and  his  audience  believ'd  what  he 
That  under  his  touch  it  grew  appies  of  gold.  — 
Now  he  paus'd ! — then  recounted  its  virtuesagain — 
'Twai  a  wood  for  all  ufe,  bottom,  top,  bark,  and 

S-ain :  _ 

favr  intd  feats  for  an  audience  in  fun 
pits, 
Into  benches  for  judges,  epifcopal  pulpits; 


S'tf 


THE   WORKS   OF   LOVIBOND. 


Into  chairs  for  philofopher?,  thrones  too  for  kings, 
Serve  the  higheft  of  purpofes,  lovveft  of  things; 
Make  brooms  to  mount  witches,  make  May-poles 

for  May-days, 
And  boxes,   and   ink-ftands,    for  wits   and    the 

ladies. 

His  fpeech  pleas'd  the  vulgar,  it  pleas'd  their 

fuperiors,  [riors, 

By  Johnfon  ftopt  fliort, — who  his  mighty  pofte- 
Applied    to    the   trunk — like    a    Sampfon,    his 

haunches 
Shook  the  roots,  (hook  the  fummit,  fhook  ftem, 

and  fhook  branches ! 
All  was  tremour  and  fhock  ! — now  defcended  in 

fhowers 
Wither'd  leaves,  wither'd  limbs,  blighted  fruits, 

blighted  flowers  ! 

The  fragments  drew  critics,  bards,  players  along, 
"Who  held  by   weak  branches,   and  let  go   the 

ftrong ; 
E'en  Carrick  had  dropt  with  a  bough  that  was 

rotten, 

But  he  leapt  to  a  found,  arid  the  flip  was  forgotten. 
Now  the  plant's  clofe  recefles  lay  open  to  day, 
\Vhile  Johnfon  exclaim'd,  ftalking  ftately  away, 
Here's  rubbifli  enough,  till  my  homeward  return, 
l"or  children  to  gather,  old  women  to  burn; 
Not  praclis'd  to  labour,  my  fides  are  too  fore, 
Till  another  fit  feafon,  to  (hake  you  down  more. 
What  future  materials  for  pruning,  and  cropping, 
And-  cleaning,  and  gleaning,  and  lopping  and  top 
ping  : 
Yet  miftake  me  not,  rabble  !  this  tree's  a  good 

tree,  .    • 

DDoes  honour,  dame  nature,  to  Britain  and  thee  ; 
And  the  fruit  on  the  top,— take  its  merits  in  brief, 
Makes  a  noble  clefert,  where  the  dinner's  roaft- 

beefl 

TO  A  LADY. 

YES  ;  wedlock's  fweet  bands  were  too  bleft,  in 
her  lover 

If  virtue  her  likenefs  could  find. 
What  Plato  *  has  fabled,  could  Julia  recover 

Her  loft  other  half,  from  mankind. 

"What  joy  to  receive  all  the  good  you  impart, 

Thy  cares  on  another  recline. 
Another's  fond  bofom,  and  feel  that  his  heart 

Beats  all  the  fame  meafureswith  thine! 

The  features,  the  virtues  of  both,  in  your  race, 

How  fweet  the  confufion,  enjoy  ! 
Yet  more  9f  thyfelf  in  the  daughter  ftill  trace, 

And  more  of  thy  lord  in  the  boy. 

Such  blifs  rivals  heaven — yet  what  grief,  what 

difgrace, 

Were  riot's  low  follower  thy  lot, 
Were  he  whofe  loud  pleafures  are  wine  and  the 

chafe, 
All  love's  filent  pleafures  forgot ! 

*  Plato's  fable  is,  that  man  and  woman  ori 
ginally  <were  one  being,  divided  afterwards  by 
Jupiter  for  tbeir  puni/hmtnt ;  that  each  part,  in 
perpetual  fearcb  of  the  other,  never  recovers 
bai'fiinefi  till  tl.eii  reunion. 


What  mifery  to  bear,  without  daring  reply, 

All  folly,  all  infolence  fpeaks  ; 
Still  calling  the  tear  of  reproach  to  thy  eye, 

The  flufh  of  diidain  to  thy  cheeks  I 

Would  foft  macaronies  have  judgment  to  prize, 
Whom  arts  and  whom  virtues  adorn, 

Who  learnt  every  virtue  and  art  to  defpife, 
Where  Catos  and  Scipios  were  born  i 

Would  wealth's  drowfy  heir,  without  fpark  of 
heaven's  fire, 

Enflirin'd  in  his  dulnefs  completely, 
Awake  to  the  charmer,  her  voice,  and  her  lyre, 

Ah  !  charm  they  though  ever  fo  fweetly  1 

But  what  with  the  gamefter,  ah  1  what  were  thy 
fate, 

What  fortune's  caprices  thy  fliare  I 
To  fleep  upon  down  under  canopied  ftate, 

To  wake  on  the  ftraw  of  defpair  ! 

The  timid  free-thinker,  that  only  defies 
Thofe  bolts  which  his  Maker  can  throw  • 

Would  he,  when  blafpheming  the  Lord  of  the 

ikies, 
Yet  rev'rence  his  image  below  > 

Would  (laves  to  a  court,  or  to  faction's  banditti* 

Thy  temperate  fpirit  approve  ; 
So  proud  in  their  chains  of  the  court  and  the  city, 

Difdaining  no  chains,  but  of  love  ? 

O  !  mild  as  the  zephyr,  like  zephyr  that  throws 
Its  fweets  on  the  fweet-breathing  May  ; 

But  not  on  the  lap  of  cold  winter  beftows, 
What  winter  will  never  repay. 

So  turn  thee  from  folly's  cold  afpecft,  ah  I  turn 

From  vice's  hard  bofom  away  ;    ' 
The  wife  and  the  virtuous  thy  fweets  will  return, 

As  warm  and  as  grateful  as  May. 

ON  A  VERY  FINE  LADY. 

FINE  B obferves  no  other  rules 

Than  thofe  the  coterie  prize  ; 
She  thinks,  whilft  lords  continue  fools, 

'Tis  vulgar  to  be  wife  : 

Thinks  rudenefs  wit  in  noble  dames, 

Adultery,  love  polite ; 
That  ducal  ftars  (hoot  brighter  flames 

Than  all  the  hoft  of  light. 

Yet  fages  own  that  greatnefs  throws 

A  grace  on  Spencer's  charms; 
On  Hagley's  verfe,  on  Stanhope's  profe, 

And  gilded  Marlborough's  arms. 

For  titles  here  their  rev'rence  ends, 

In  general  wifdom  thinks 
The  higher  g/andeur's  fcale  afcends, 

The  lower  nature's  finks. 

ON  AN  ASIATIC  LADY. 

O  You  who  fail  on  India's  \vealthy  wave. 
Of  gems  and  gold  who  fpoil  the  radiant  eaft ; 

What  oceans,  fay,  what  ifles  of  fragrance  gave 
This  fairer  Ueafure  to  the  joyful  weft  2 


POEMS. 


What  banks  of  Ganges,  and  what  balmy  fkies 
Saw  the  firft  infant  dawn  of  thole  unclouded  eyes  ? 

By  eafy  arts  while  Europe's  beauties  reign, 
Roll  the  blue  languifli  of  their  humid  eye  ; 

Rule  willing  flaves,  who  court  and  kit's  the  chain, 
Self-vanquifli'cl,  helplefs  to  refift  or  fly  ; 

Lefs  yielding  ibuls  confefs  thiseaftern  fair, 

And  lightning  melts  the  heart  that  milder  fires 
would  fpare. 

Of  gods,  enamour'd  with  a  mortal  dame, 
Let  Grecian  ftory  tell — the  gifts  difplay 

That  deck'd  Caffandra,  and  each  honoured  name 
Lov'd  by  the  god,  who  guides  the  golden  day  : 

See  !  Afia  triumphs  in  a  brighter  icene  ; 

A  nobler   Phoebus   woos  her   fummei's  fmiling 
queen. 

Sublimer  fenfe,  and  fprightlier  wit  to  pleafe. 

That  Phoebus  gave  ;  he  gave  the  voice  and  lyre, 
That  warble  fweeter  than  the  fpicy  breeze, 

He  gave  what  charms  meridian  funs  inl'pire  ; 
What  precious   rays  from  light's  pure  fountain 

itream, 

What  warm  the   diamond's   blaze    and    ruby's 
flaming  beam. 


TO  THE  SAME, 

ON  HER  DRESS. 

AH  envious  robe  '.  to  fruftrate  heaven's  intent, 
Concealing  beauty  from  the  eye  of  day ; 

Beauty  to  man  by  gracious  nature  fent 

To  cheer  the  wand'rer  on  his  lonelbme  way. 

One  pow'r  who  wak'd  Aurora's  fmiling  light 
Gave  fkies  their  azure,  and  gave  vales  their 
green, 

Form'd  the  quick  fenfe  for  wonder  and  delight, 
Made  eyes  to  fee,  and  Laura  to  be  feen. 

Curs'd  be  th'  eclipfe  that  plunges  morn  in  night, 
And  jealous  clouds  that  (hade  the  landscape's 
fcene ; 

On  envious  robes  feverer  curfes  light, 
That  veil  the  beauties  of  my  funimer's  queen  ! 

Ah  Laura '.  cruel  Laura !  why  conftrain, 
In  art's  fantaftic  drapery,  nature's  eafe  ? 

Why,  form'd  to  empire,  empire's  arts  difdain  ? 
Why,  born  for  pleafure,  ftill  refufe  to  pleafe  ? 

Nor  yet  thefe  folds  on  folds,  this  load  of  drefs, 
Shall  bar  approaches  to  poetic  love  ; 

No — where  the  graces  fport  in  fweet  recefs, 
'Tis  fancy,  bold  intruder's  joy  to  rove. 

Fancy,  purfuing  where  my  Laura  flies, 

With  wanton  gales  forbidden  charms  reveals, 

Betrays  her  (lumbers,  and  with  eager  eyes 
The  panting  breaft  devouring,  dreams  it  feels. 

Fancy,  indulgent  to  her  votary's  prayer, 

Shows  where,  fequefter'd  from  the  fultry  beam, 

The  limpid  wave  but  ill  conceal'd  the  fair, 
With  virgins  fporting  in  her  Gange's  ftream 


TO  THE  SAME. 


AH  Laura  !  while  graces  and  fongs. 

While  fmiles,  winning  failles  you  impart ; 

Indulgence  but  nudes  defire, 

I  ligh  for  that  treafure,  your  heart. 

Yes,  take,  too  prefumptuous,  (he  cries, 
All  that  virtue  can  \vifh  to  receive  ; 

Yes,  take  all  that  virtue  can  grunt, 
A  heart  I  had  never  to  give. 

The  maid  of  the  north,  like  the  lake, 
That  deeps  by  her  peaceable  cot, 

Too  languilhing  lives  but  for  one, 
Forgetting  the  world,  and  forgot. 

But  born  where  my  Ganges  expands, 
To  no  partial  channels  contin'd, 

Unfix'd  to  no  object,  I  flow 

With  innocent  fmiles  on  mankind. 

Our  Afia's  bright  dames,  like  their  fun, 
Cheer  all  with  benevolent  reign, 

Coy  moons  Europe's  daughters,  but  light 
A  tingle  uifcontolate  1'wain. 


ON  READING  THE  FOREGOING  VERSES, 

BY  MISS  G . 

AH  I  Dorimant,  victim  to  love, 

Too  fatally  caught  in  his  wiles, 
Can  you  in  fair  Laura  approve 

Thole  diflfufive,  thofe  general  fmiles  ? 

If  inconstancy  dwells  with  that  fire 
Which  the  fun-beams  of  Afia  impart, 

Can  a  daughter  of  Europe  deiire 

To  change  with  your  Laura  a  heart? 

No  I — happier  the  temp'rate  mind, 

Which,  fix'd  to  one  object  alone, 
To  one  tender  paflion  confinM, 

Breathes  no  wiflies,  no  fighs,  but  for  one. — > 

Such  blifs  ha*  the  maid  of  the  plain, 
Though  fecluded  (he  lives  in  a  cot ; 

Yet,  rich  in  the  love  of  her  fwain, 

She's  contented,  and  bletfes  her  lot.— 

Ah  !  fay,  if  deferving  thy  heart, 

The  too  undittinguifhing  fair, 
Who  to  thoufands  can  raptures  impart, 

And  the  raptures  of  thoufands  can  (hare  ? 

Ah  !  fay,  does  flie  merit  thofe  lays  ? 

Thofe  lays  which  true  paflion  define  ?— 
No— -unworthy  the  fair  of  thy  praife, 

Who  can  lifteu  to  any  but  thine. 

REPLY* 

TO  MISS  G . 

SAPPHO,  while  your  mufe  of  fire, 
Liuening  to  the  vocal  fpheres, 

*  Tbe  i  ft,  id,  and  \$thjlan*as  were  not  in  tbtt 
copy  frefented  to  J\rfs  C- 

Ppiij 


THE   WORKS   OF   LOVIBONU. 


Sits  and  tempers  to  her  lyre 
Airs  divine  for  mortal  ears: 

Viewing  hfgher  orbs  that  glow, 

i.ver  conltant,  ever  true, 
Still  fhe  dreams  to  find  below 

Perfect  form?,  as  heaven  and  you. 

Blame  not  Afia's  fair,  who  glances 
Random  fmiles  in  heedlefs  eafe, 

Shifts  at  will  her  wayward  fancies, 
Pleafing  all,  whom  all  cai>  pleafe ; 

Blame  her  not— no  envied  treafure 

Is  the  tender,,  feeling  heart, 
Bofoms  quick  to  keener  pleafure 

Beat,  alas !  as  quick  to  ftnart. 

Who  with  eyes  that  ever  languish, 

Still  to  deferts  fighs  alone  ? 
Who  co'nfumes  her  youth  in  anguifh? 

—She  who  keeps  an  heart  for  one. 

Tender  love  repaid  with  treafon, 
Fortune's  frowns,  parental  power, 

Blaft  lier  in  the  vernal  i'eafon. 
Bend  Ker>  unfupported  flower. 

Happier  ftie,  with  pliant  nature 

Fleeting,  fickle  as  the  wind  ; 
She,  who  proving  one  a  traitor, 

Tarns  to  meet  another  kind. 

B!ame  her  not — with  Afian  rovers 

What  can  Afia's  fair  purfue  ? 
What  •  .but  kSbns  taught  by  lorers, 

Like  jfae  traitor,  treacherous  too. 

Why  fiiould  faith,  obfequious  duty, 
.  Sooth  an.  eaftern  tyrant's  fcorn  ? 
Who  but  rifles  joylefs  beauty 

Steals  the  honey,  leaves  the  thorn. 

Sadnefs  fits  by  Ganges'  fountains; 

How  can  echo  cheer  the  vale  ? 
What  repeat  from  fragrant  mountains  ? 

What  but  grief  and  horror's  tale  ? 

What  but  flirieks  of  wild  defpair  ? 

What  but  (houts  that  murder  fleep  ? 
There  the  ftruggling,  fainting  fair  ; 

There— but  fee  uiy  Sappho  weep  '. 

Change  the  ftrain !— this  xnournfal  meafure 
Melts,  oppreffes  virtuous  hearts — 

Sappho,  wake  thy  lyre  of  pleafure  ! 
Sing  of  Europe's  happier  arts  ! 

Sing  of  all  the  mingled  bleffing 
Reafon,  tempering  paffion,  knows ; 

All  the  tranfport  of  pofTeili  ng 
Unpluck'd  beauty's  willing  rofe .' 

Sing  c»f  that  refinM  fenfation 

Mutual  melting  bofonss  prove, 
Souls  exchanged,  fweet  emanation, 

Separate  beimg  loft  in  love  I 

Rapture's  tears,  voluptuous  ftreatn  I 
Languor  fteaiing  farrow's  Sghs  ;  : 

Sing  of  love — thyfelf  the  theme  ? 
Sing  of  love-»-tbjfelf  the  nrize  I 


SONG. 

HANG  my  lyre  upon  the  willow, 
Sigh  to  winds  thy  notes  forlorn ; 

Or,  along  the  foamy  billow 
Float  the  wrecking  tempeft's  fcorn. 

Sprightly  founds  no  more  it  raifes, 
Such  as  Laura's  foailes  approve  ; 

Laura  fcorns  her  poet's  prailes, 
Calls  his  artlefs  friendfliip  love  : 

Calls  it  love,  that  fpurning  duty, 
Spurning  nature's  chafteft  ties, 

Mocks  thy  tears,  dejected  beauty, 
Sports  with  fallen  virtue's  figh?. 

Call  it  love,  no  more  profaning 

Truth  with  dark  fufpicion's  wound ; 

Or,  my  fair,  the  term  retaining, 

Change  the  fenfe,  preferve  the  found, 

Yes,  'tis  love—that  name  is  given, 
Angels,  to  your  pureft  flames  : 

Such  a  love  as  merits  heaven, 
Heaven's  divinett  image  claims. 

LAURA'S  ANSWER, 

BY  MISS  G . 

SOON  be  thy  lyre  to  winds  confign'd, 
Or  hurl'd  beneath  the  raging  deep, 

For  while  fucli  drains  feduce  my  mind, 
How  (hall  my  heart  its  purpofe  keep  ? 

Thy  artful  lays,  which  artlefs  feem, 
With  too  much  fondnefs  I  approve  ; 

Ah  .l  write  no  m«re  on  fuch  a  theme, 
Or  Laura's  friendfliip — ends  in  love. 


TO  MISS  G » 

AH  leave,  you  cry,  the  harp  unftrung, 
For  fortune  ftiifts  her  fickle  wind  : 

Refume  thy  lyre,  oa  willows  hung, 
To  fing  the  fair,  no  longer  kind. 

No — nearer  view  my  alter'd  ftate, 
For  fear  too  high,  for  ho\>e  too  low  j 

Beneath  the  victor's  joyful  fate, 
Yet  far  above  the  captive's  woe. 

The  charms  of  fenfe- no  more  beguile  ; 

On  realbn's  lap  I  lay  me  down : 
If  claiming  now  no  beauties'  fmile, 
,  Appears  it  juft  to  meet  their  frown  ? 

Light  infects  they,  of  gaudy  hues, 
Admire  the  glare  of  youthful  day, 

Still  bathe  in  morn's,  not  evening's  dews, 
From  ibades  of  autumn  fleet  sway. 

Behold  their  train  of  captains,  beaux  1 
Difdain  my  breaft,  difdain  to  figh  I 

To.  thefe  the  fair,  the  rivals  thofe, 
The  fon  of  Jove's  be  m/.  reply  : 

"  Ab  why  defert  th'  Olympic  games? 
'*  Afpiie  to  victory  1"  Philip  cries  i 


P    O    ft    II*    S. 


S99 


"  I  come,"  yonng  Ammon  fierce  exclaims, 
"  If  kings  my  rivals,  thrones  the  prize." 

Ye<.  letter'd  maid  !  my  foul  approve, 

ITie  feat  no  more  of  vain  defires  : 
Extinguifh'd  there  the  flame  of  love, 

ExtinguiQVd  there  ambition's  fires  ! 

7o  fave  from  vice,  from  folly  fave. 
What  aid  can  beauty,  power  afford  I 

Unworthy  love  to  call  thee  fl^ve, 
Unworthy  crowds  to  call  thee  lord ! 

Pure  renfon,  yes;  pure  truth — but  why, 
Ah  why  !  rebellious  heart  declare, 

With  fluttering  pulfe  and  ftifled  figh, 
That  other  tenants  harbour  there  ? 

Go— tranquil  hope,  by  turns  to  dwell, 

Expelling  realbn  pleafures  court, 
Expelling  paflion  wifdom's  cell : 

Go — reason's  paffion's  mutual  fport. 

Vain  dreamer ! — rather  both  revere, 

But  neither's  fole  dominion  own  : 
When  heaven  aflign'd  to  each  their  fphere, 

It  never  meant  excluding  one  : 

Excluding  which  ?•- -objections  wait 

On  vain  pretenfions  either  forms ; 
Alike  to  life's  falubrious  ita'e 

Ye  both  are  fatal — calms  and  florins. 

TO  LAURA, 

On  her  receiving  a  Myfierious  Letter  from  a  Me- 
tbodtft  Divine. 

THE  docTror  wakes  early — half  dreft  in  his  callbck, 
He  fteals  from  his  confort  to  write  ; 

She  fleeps--- and  tweet  heaven  is  invok'd  from  his 

haflbck 
To  lengthen  the  trance  of  her  night. 

Now  he  writes  to  the  fair,  with  what  Ifervour  he 
paints 

Heaven's  glory  concern'*!  in  her  fame; 
How  he  raves  upon  grace,  and  the  union  of  faints, 

Idolatry,  raptures,  and  flame  ? 

Equivocal  prieft,  lay  folemnity  by, 

Deceiver  thyfelf,  or  deceiv'd  ! 
When  you  kneel  to  the  idol  of  beauty,  and  figh, 

Are  your  ardours  for  heaven  believ'd  ? 

Will  the  heart  that  is  kindled  from  paffioas  below 

Afcend  in  pure  fpirit  above  ? 
Ah  !  analyfe  better,  as  blended  they  glow 

The  flames  of  religion  and  love. — 

Quit  the  teacher,  my  fair  one,  and  liften  to  me, 

A.  doiflor  lefs  grave  and  fcvere  I 
Who  eternity's  joys  for  the  virtuous  can  fee 

Confident  with  happinefs  here. 

Still  reverence,  I  preach,  thofe  endearing  relations 

Of  daughter,  of  parent,  of  wife : 
Tfet  I  blame  not  your  relith  for  (lighter  fenfations 

That  fweeten  the  medicine  of  life. 

Know,  the  virtue  it  cherifhes  heaven  will  reward, 
But  attend  to  no  blafphemous  tales, 


That  the  blaze  of  the  Deity  (runes  unlmpair'd, 
Though  human  infirmity  fails. 

Know  your  God  as  he  is,  wife,  good,  beyond 
mcafurc, 

No  tyrant  in  horrors  array'd, 
But  a  father,  who  fmiles  on  the  innocent  pkafure 

Of  amiable  creatures  he  made  I— 
Still  pleafe,  and  purfue  his  benevolent  ends, 

Still  enrapture  the  heart  and  the  ear  ! 
I  can  fwear  for  myfelf,  and  believe  for  my  friends, 

Our  morals  improve  as  we  hear. 

If  the  paflions  are  waken'dby  harmony's  charm, 
Their  breezes  waft  health  to  the  mind ; 

What  our  reafon  but  labours,  vain  toil !  to  difarm, 
By  virtue  and  fong  are  refin'd. 

Ah!  liften  to  me,  in  whofe  natural  fchool 
Religion  leads  truth  by  the  hand  ! — 

Who  regulates  faith  by  a  myftical  rule, 
But  builds  his  foundation  on  fand  ! 

By  the  winds  of  unreconcil'd  principles  driven, 
Still  fluctuates  the  Methodift's  plan ; 

Now-he  wifhes  you  chafte  for  the  glory  of  heaven, 
—Now  frail — for  the  pleafure  of  man. 

ON  POLITICS. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

FBOM  moments  fo  pfecious  to  life, 

All  politics,  Laura,  remove ; 
Ruby  lips  muft  not  animate  ftrife, 

But  breathe  the  fweet  language  of  lore. 

What  is  party  ? — a  zeal  without  fcience, 

A  bubble  of  popular  fame, 
In  nature  and  virtue's  defiance 

"Tis  realbn  enflav'd  to  a  name. 

'Tis  the  language  of  madnefs,  or  famion, 
Where  knaves  only  guefs  what  they  mean ; 

'Tis  a  cloak  to  conceal  private  paflion, 

To  indulge,  with  applaufc,  private  fplcen. 

Can  I,  plac'd  by  my  Laura,  inquire, 

If  poifon  or  claret  put  out 
Our  Churchill's  fatirical  fire, 

If  Wilkes  lives  with  ears  or  without  ? 

When  you  vary  your  charms  with  your  patche^ 

To  me  'tis  a  weightier  affair, 
Than  who  writes  the  northern  difpatchcs, 

Or  fits  in  the  prefident's  chair. 

When,  by  nature  and  art  form'd  to  pleafe, 
You  dig,  and  you  talk,  and  you  laughj 

Can  1  forfeit  fuch  raptures  as  thefe, 
To  dream  of  the  chamberlain's  ftaff  ? 

Secure  under  Brunfwick  and  heaven, 

I  truft  the  llate  vcfll-i  (hall  ride ; 
To  Bute  Jet  the  rudder  be  giv'en, 

Or  Pitt  be  permitted  to  guide. 

At  Almack's,  when  the  turtle's  well  dreft, 
Muft  I  know  the  cpok's  country,  or  ftarvc  ? 

And  when  George  gives  us  !iVr    's  feait, 
Not  tafte  till  Newcaftle  lhail  carve  ! 

Yet  think  not  that  wildly  I  range, 
With  no  fobcr  iyftem  in  view ; 
Ppuij 


6oo 


THE   WORKS   OF   LOVIBOND. 


My  notions  are  fix'd,  though  they  change, 
Applied  to  Great  Britain  and  you. 

There,  I  reverence  our  bright  conflitution, 

Not  heeding  what  calumny  raves, 
Ycr  wifh  for  a  r.evv  revolution, 

Should  rulers  treat  lubjedsas  flaves. 

Here,  the  doctrine  of  boundlefs  dominion, 

Of  boundlefs  obedience  is  mine  j 
Ah !  my  fair,  to  cure  fchifm  in  opinion, 

Conicfs  non-refiftance  is  thine. 

TO  LAURA. 

FAREWELL  TO  THE  ROSE. 

Go  rofe — in  gaudy  gardens  wilt  thou  bloom, 
Far  from  the  iilent  vale  of  peace  and  love  ? 

On  iaittcring  iniecis  lavifh  wafle  perfume, 
Or  deck  the  fickle  wreath  that  foiiy  wove  ? 

And  yet  the  fragrance  of  thy  evening  hour, 
Ambrofuil  odours,  yet  to  me  refule  ; 

To  me,  who  pay  thy  fweets,  ungrateful  flower! 
With  rich  returns  of  incenfc  from  the  mufe  ?— 

Who  but  the  mufe  tranfplants  thee,    fhort-liv'd 
rofe! 

From  mortal  regions  to  celeflial  feats  ? 
'By  memory's  fountain,  where  thy  buds  difclofc 

Eternal  beauties,  with  eternal  i'weets. 

SONG  TO  ****. 

WHAT  !  bid  me  feek  another  fair 

In  untry'd  paths  of  female  wiles? 
And  pofies  weave  of  other  hair 

And  balk  ftcure  in  other  fmiles  ? 
Thy  {riendly  ftars  no  longer  prize, 
And  light  my  courie  by  other  eyes  ? 

Ah  no  !-*-my  dying  lips  fhall  clofe, 
I'lialter'd  love,  as  faith,  profeffing; 

Kor  praifing  him  who  life  beftows, 
Forget  who  makes  that  gift  a  blcfling. 

My  lait  addrds  to  Heav'n  is  due  ; 

The  lail  but  one  is  all — to  you. 

Oa  men  Icing  deprived,  from  Cvftom  and  Detfca- 
cy,  of  ctrjoying  foetal  friendjbip  'with  the  Fair 
Six. 

HAD  foft  Afpafia's  fex  Ijcen  man, 

What  friendfhip'sholy  chains 
Had  link'd  our  beings,  fortune's  plan, 

Our  pleafures  and  our  pains  ? 

Alike  our  ruder,  milder  fports, 

Our  itudies  too  the  fame, 
Companions  both  in  fhadss  and  courts, 

In  paths  of  love  or  fame. 

By  bright  collifion,  patriot  beams 

Had  flufh'd  from  foul  to  foul, 
And  war  had  feen,  in  union' sftreams, 

Our  tide  of  glory  roll. 

There  fate,  that  ftrikes  the  nobkil  breaft, 

Hadfurely  reverenc'd  thine  ; 
The  thirfty  lance  I  then  had  bleft 

For  only  wounding  mine. 


But  ah  !  my  fweeter  downy  hours, 

Had  I  been  chang'd,  not  you  ; 
What  tranquil  joys,  if  kinder  powers 

Had  made  me  woman  too  ' 

Alade  each  the  other's  fofter  care, 

One  table  then  had  fed, 
One  chamber  lodg'd  the  faithful  pair, 

Ah  do  not  bin  ill ! — one  bed. 

Both  fitting  at  one  bufy  loom 

In  nature's  vernal  bow'r, 
Had  rivall'd  nature's  vernal  bloom, 

Creating  both  one  flov, 'r. 

Both  fcreen'd  from  fummer's  fultry  view, 

In  fhades  by  haunted  ftream, 
Had  own'd  the  moral  vifion  true 

That  youthful,  poets  dream. 

Sweet  wifdom,  couch'd  in  myftic  rhime, 

Yet  bending  o'er  the  brook, 
Had  gather'd  morals  more  fublime 

From  great  creation's  Look  ; 

And  fe^t  cur  mixing  fouls  refine 

In  purer  wifdom's  ray, 
The  being  virtue's  friend  and  thine 

Had  clear'd  our  mills  away. 

My  morning  incehfe,  e'v'ning  pray'r, 

With  thine,  had  foar'd  above, 
With  thin*  afcending  fweeter  there 

On  wings  of  fong  and  love. 

Vain  dreams  !  for-  cufcom's  laws,  combin'd 

With  virtue's  ftern  decree, 
Divide  the  beings  nature  join'd, 

Divide  my  fair  from  me. 

'TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 

FAJNTING    AT     THE     NEWS     OF  HER     FRIEND'S 
M1SFOKIUXES. 

AH  !  maid  too  gentle,  while  thy  tears  deplore 

'I  he  virtuous  exile  o'n  a  foreign  fhore, 

Thy  pulfe  forgets  to  beat,  thy  cheek  to  glow, 

Dim  the  bright  eye,  fix'd  monument  of  woe, 

.Loft  every  iun&ion,  vanifh'd  every  fenfe : 

Is  this  thy  lot,  divine  benevolence  ? 

Approach  no  more,  fuch  bitter  anguifh,  near 

&o  loft  a  bofom  :  flow  alone  the  tear, 

That  dew  of  heaven,  O  maid !   to  heaven  allied, 

Thy  great  Redeemer  fned  for  man,  and  died. 

Good  argelsmorn  creation's  glories  loft, 

And  mourning  pleafe,  referable  him  the  moft  ; 

Flow  then  thy  tear,  ordain'd  by  Heaven's  decree, 

For  blifs  to  others',  fweeter  blifs  to  thee  ! 

With  pity's  pangs  her  dear  fenfation.s  feel ; 

The  fhaft  that  wounds  thee,  drops  a  balm  to  heal. 

1  hy  foul  expanding,  like  a  vernal  flower, 

Shall  glow  the  brighter  in  affliction's  fnowcr. 

for  every  tear  to  luff' ring  virtue  given, 

Itfelf  approving,  and  approv'd  by  Heaven. 

Weep  then,  but  weep  another's  fate  alone ; 

Let  Imiles  be  ftill  attendant  on  thy  own  ! 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  INFANT. 

How  bleft  is  he  whom  nature's  gentle  hand 
Has  fr;atch'd  from  human  life  and  hu 


t>    O    E    M    S. 


601 


Ev'n  in  his  chlldifli  days,  ere  yet  he  knew 
Or  fin,  or  pain,  or  youthful  paffion's  force  ! 
Jn  earth's  foft  lap,  beneath  the  flowery  turf, 
His  peaceful  afhes  ficep  ;  to  heaven  afcends 
Th'  unfpotted  foul,  declar'dby  voice  divine 
A  gueft  well  pleafing — Then  no  longer  mourn, 
Thou  drooping  parent,  nor  bewail  him  loft- 
In  life's  firft  bloom,  when  infant  reafon  dawn'd, 
And  the  young  mind,  unfolding  every  power, 
Gave  promife  fair  of  manhood,  tranfport  fill'd 
The  mother's  bofom,  pondering  every  word 
And  action  there.     She  now  lamenting  loud 
Deplores  him,  from  her  vain  embraces  torn 
By  unrelenting  fate,  and  fierce  difeafe  ; 
.Like  eaftcrn  ftorms  that  blaft  the  opening  year. 


TO  MISS  N- 


-M, 


WRITTEN  AT  BRIG1ITHELMSTONE, 


LOVELY  N- 


-m  !  rife,  and  fee 


Modeft  morn  refemble  thce  ! 
Ocean  fmiles  with  your  repofe, 
Come  to  feas,  where  Venus  rofe  ! 
Bathing,  Dr.  Pool  obferves, 
Braces  all  the  optic  nerves. 
'  Heavens,"  (he  cries,  "  what  idle  whim! 
'  Youthful  eyes  are  feldom  dim  ; 
Mine  can  mark  the  diftant  fail, 
Or  lowing  herds  in  Suffex  vale  ; 
Scarce  a  fpire  or  cottage  fmoke, 
Or  cloud  embracing  mountain  oak  ; 
An  object  fcarce  of  land  or  fea 
Rifes  unperceiv'dby  me.'' 
True — but  eyes  that  diftant  roam, 
Frequent  fail  for  fcenes  at  home. 
Let  example  make  me  clearer, 
Hace  yourfelf  at  Shergold's  mirror  ! 
Every  mild  reflected  grace^ 
That  angel  form,  that  angel  face, 
A  world  of  wonders  all  can  view, 
Envy  only  blind  and— you. 


TO  THE  MRS.'S  R- 


-S, 


WRITTEN  AT  BRIGHT  HEI.MSTONE. 

Nox  gentle  ladies!  — he  on  BRIGHTON'S  flood, 
Who  deck'd  with  N  s"  name  a  feeble  page? 

For  you,  the  guardians  of  the  fair  and  good, 
Has  arm'd  no  bitter  ftings  of  Satan's  rage. 

On  impious  necks  the  mufe  of  vengeance  treads, 
For  fhamelefs  folly  dips  her  fhafts  in  gall ; 

While,  dropping  odours  on  your  virtuous  heads, 
The  dews  of  praile,  a  precious  ointment,  fall. 

Your  N inn's  mind  in  every  virtue  grew, 

In  every  grace,  beneath  your  fweet  controul; 

In  genufne  luftre  were  preferv'd  by  you 
Her  polifh'd  form,  reflecting  all  the  foul. 

Her'candid  fmiles,  unconfcious  of  their  worth, 
Her  blufh  of  nature  without  other  dye  ! 

You  taught  her  modeft  eyes  to  love  the  earth, 
Or  foar  in  flaming  rapture  to  the  fky. 

Her,  the  heft  gift  of  Heaven,  its  gracious  love 
.    Permitted  to  your  guidance— come  and  fharc 


The  joy  of  virtuous  fouls,  whofe  toils  improve 
The  *  talents  trufted  to  their  fruitful  care. 

Home,  faithful  fervants — hear  a  voice  proclaim 
Your  hymn  of  triumph-.-'tis  no  long  of  mine; 

Tis  heaven  that  calls  you  to  partake  your  taiue 
With  God  the  giver,  and  this  gift  divine. 

VERSES 

WRITTEN  AT  BRIGUTHELMSTONE. 

HERE  Charles  lay  flielter'd,  from  this  defert  fliore 
He  launch'd  the  bark,  and   brav'd  the  tempell'i 

roar ; 

He  trufted  here  the  faith  of  fimple  fwains, 
And  ocean,  friendlier  than  the  Worcefter  f  plains. 
No  beauteous  forms,  as  now,  adorn'd  it  then, 
The  downs  were  pathlefs,  without  haunt  of  men. 
One  fhepherd  wander'd  on  the  lonely  hill, 
One  village-maid  explor'd  the  diflant  rill. 
But  mark  the  glittering  fcenes  fucceeding  thefe  ; 
See  peopled  all  the  fhores,  and  healing  feas  ; 
Yet,  friend  to  Britain,  flows  alike  the  wave 
With  India's  treafures,  and  defrauds  the  grave. 
Had  fate  now  plac'd  him  on  this  fairy  land, 
The  thoughtlets  Charles  had  linger'd  on  the  ftrand, 
Nor  danger  chill'd,  nor  high  ambition  fir'd 
That  wanton  bofom,  by  the  loves  infpir'd : 
His  languid  fails  the  monarch  here  had  furl'd, 
Had  gain'd  a  N m's  ftnile,  and  loft  the  world* 

TO  MISS  G , 

FROM    BRIGHTHELMSTONE. 

COME,  Stella,  let  us  climb  the  heights 

Where  purer  fpirits  flow, 
And  upward  point  our  mental  flights, 

And  mock  the  fcenes  below. 

And  turn  no  more  the  giddy  rounds 

Of  pleafure's  wanton  chafe, 
But  range  beyond  material  bounds, 

Eternity,  and  fpace  ! — 

Come,  read  in  ocean's  ample  page, 

Explain  the  caufe  that  guides, 
That  bridles  now,  and  now  to  rage 

Precipitates  the  tides. 

In  glory  fee  the  planets  roll, 

Their  laws,  their  mealure,  fcan, 
Nor  there  confin'd,  explore  the  foul, 

And  liberty,  and  man  !  ' 

On  foaring  pinions  let  us  fhoot, 

Like  him,  the  bird  of  Jove  1 
— "  What  wafte,"  (he  cries,  "  in  fuch  purfuit, 

*'  An  age  of  life  and  love  '. 

"  With  eagle  flight  and  eagle  view 

"  Let  Newton  fail  the  fky  1 
"  But  what  am  I  ?  or  what  are  you, 

"  Philofopher?— a  fly : 

*  Matthew  xxv. 

t  Charles  the  lid.  after  tie  battle  ofWorcefler, 
efcaped  to  France  in  a  fjhvt^-boat,  from  Bright- 
helmftint. 


693 


THE  WORKS   OF  LOVIBON&. 


"  Vain  infecl !  now  aloft  he  fprings 

"  To  drink  the  liquid  light, 
44  And  quenches  now  his  flagging  wings 

*'  In  angry  feas  and  night. 
i 
*  Ah  fool !  to  quit  his  reptile  ftate 

"  Amid  frefh  dews  and  flowers  t    . 
*'  Be  his  the  juftly  purcbas'd  fate, 

"  The  fober  leffbn  ours. 

"  From  clouds  defcending,  let  us  try 

"  What  humbler  regions  give  ; 
*'  Let  others  foar  to  fall  and  die  '. 

"  Tis  ours  to  creep,  and  live." 

ANSWER  TO  THE  FOREGOING  VERSES. 


No  more  let  fdence  tempt  thy  fearching  eyes 
Beyond  the  bounds  prelcrib'd  to  mortal  fight, 

No  more  advent'rous  mount  the  lofty  Ikies, 
And  daring,  penetrate  the  realms  of  light. 

With  humble  mind  go  trace  thy  Maker's  hand 
In  every  fmiling  valley,  fertile  plain ; 

Adore  his  bounty  in  the  cultur'd'  land, 
Revere  his  wifdom  in  the  ftormy  main  ! 

Nor  thoughtlefs  view  the  vaft  tremendous  fea, 
Whofe  courfe  impetuous  power  divine  reftrains ; 

Whofe  ruihing  tide,  controul'd  by  heaven's  de 
cree, 
Forbears  to  violate  the  flow'ry  plains. 

Nor  yet  confine  to  thefe  thy  wand'ring  fight, 
While  Iplendid  gems  the  face  of  heav'n  adorn; 

Nor  hee Jicl\  view  the  radiant  lamps  of  night, 
Nor  heediefs  view  the  fun  that  gilds  the  morn  : 

But  turn  with  praife  to  him  who  reigns  above, 
Supreme    o'er    works    that    fpeak   Almighty 
power ; 

O  '.  turn  a  grateful  bofom  breathing  love, 
And  learn  the  nobleit  leffon— to  adore. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  GENTLE 
MAN. 

Go,  mournful  fpirit,  wing  thy  dreary  way, 
Leave  a  lov'd  manfion,  leave  the  cheerful  day ; 
A  naked  wanderer  on  the  winter's  wind, 
Ah  leave,  reluctant,  youth  and  Itrength  behind  1 
Not  long  a  wanderer,  to  that  happier  Ihore 
Be  heaven  thy  guide,  where  mourning  is  no  more  ! 
In  purer  mantions,  in  a  form  divine, 
Immortal  youth,  immortal  joy,  be  thine  ! 

INSCRIPTION  FOR  A  FOUNTAIN. 

O  YOU,  who  mark  what  flowrets  gay, 
What  gales,  what  odours  breathing  near, 

What  flickering  fhades  from  fummer's  ray 
Allure  my  fpring  to  linger  here  : 

Yet  fee  me  quit  this  margin  green, 

Yet  fee  me  deaf  to  pleafure's  calf, 
Explore  the  thirfty  haunts  of  men. 

Yet  fee  my  bounty  flow  for  all. 


O  learn  of  me  —no  partial  rill. 
No  (lumbering  felrifh  pool  be  ysn; 

But  focial  laws  alike  fulfil ; 
O  now  for  all  creation  too  '. 


On  the  Converting  tie  late  Mr.  Wooddefoifs  ffoze/e, 
at  Kingflitn,  into  a  Poor-hoitfe,  and  cutting 
down  the  great  Walk  of  High  Trees  before 
it. 

WHIRE  the  broad  path-way  fronts  yon  ancient 

feat, 

Approach  not,  flranger,  with  unhallow'd  feet, 
Nor  mock  the  fpot,  unfhelter'd  now,  and  bare  ! 
The  grove's  old  honours  rofe  majeftic  there  : 
Its  giant  arms  extending  to  defend 
Thy    reverend    temple's,     man's     and     virtue's 

friend  '. 

Secure  thy  walk  that  unpierc'd  gloom  along, 
No  Itorm  approach'd  to  filence  Homer's  fo»g; 
No  beam  to  wound  thy  heav'n-direcled  eye : 
The  world's  near  tumult  fwept  unheeded  by. 
Now,  low  as  thine,  thefe  towering  heads  are 

laid, 

Nor  more  embower  the  manfion  in  their  fnade, 
Time-honour'd    pile  I     that,    owning    thee    its 

lord. 

Saw  ancient  manners,  ancient  faith,  reftor'd  ; 
In  renovated  youth  beheld  again 
Saturnian  days,  the  good  Eliza's  reign. 
With  thee  too  flickering  many  an  angel  guefl, 
For  what,  but  heaven,  ferener  than  thy  breait  ?— • 
Bled  manfion  then,  iimplicity's  abode, 
Where  fmiling  innocence  look'd  up  to  God, 
Where    nature's    genuine    graces    cbarm'd    the 

heart, 

Or  nature,  poiifh'd  but  by  claffic  art. 
There    fancy,   warm'd   with   brighteft,    charted 

beams, 

The  fai.it's  high  rapture,  and  the  poet's  dreams, 
While  virtue  If  ft,  delighting  there  to  dwell, 
The  penfive  mountain,  and  the  hermit's  cell. — 
There  the  good  teacher  held  by  turns  to  youth 
The  blaze  of  fiction  and  pure  light  of  truth, 
Who,  lefs  by  precept  than  example  fir'd, 
Glow'd  as  he  taught,  infpiring  and  infpir'd. 

Nor  think,  gay  travellers,  this  awful  roof  " 
Echoed  no  founds  but  wit'dom's  harm  reproof; 
The  focial  board,  attendant  mirth,  was  there, 
The  fmile  unconlcious  of  to-morrow's  care, 
With  every  tranquil  joy  of  wedded  life, 
The  gracious  children,  and  the  faithful  wife. 
In  dance,  in  fong,  in  harmlefs  fports  approv'd, 
There  youth  has  frolic'd,  there  foft  maids  have 

lov'd. 

There  one,  diftinguifh'd  one — not  fweeter  blows 
[n  fimpler  ornament  attir'd,  the  rofe, 
The  rofe  me  cull'cl  to  deck  the  nuptial  bower., 
Herfelf  as  fair — a  tranfitory  Qower. — 
Thus  a  fhort    hour — and    woods  and  turrets 

fall; 

The  good,  the  great,  the  beauteous,  perifh  all. 
Another  age  a  gayer  race  fupplies, 
Lefs  awful  groves,  and  gaudier  villas  rife. 
See  wifdom *s  place  ufurp'd  by  folly's  fons, 
And  fcorucrs  fit  on  virtue's  vacant  throne* 


POEMS. 


See  neighbouring  Combe's  old  genius  quit  its 
bowers,  [towers ; 

Not  *   Warwick's  name  preferv'd    his    Gothic 
Nor  diftant  f  fee  new  royal  domes  deride 
What  half  remains  of  Wolfey's  ancient  pride  ! 
While  yet  this  humbler  pile  furvives  to  prove 
A  manfion  worthy  of  its  matter's  love  : 
Like  him,  ftiU  welcomes  to  its  liberal  door  [poor ; 
Whom   moft   he  honour'd,   honouring  moft   the 
Like  him,  the  lifping  infant's  bleffing  ihares, 
And  age's  gratitude  in  filent  prayers. — 
While  fuch  partake  the  couch,  the  frugal  feaft, 
No  regal  chambers  boaft  an  equal  gueft ; 
For,  gracious  Maker,  by  thy  own  decree, 
Receiving  mercy  is  receiving  thee  !~- 

*  Comie-Neiiille,  n*ir  Kingftoa,  built  tiy  the 
/^ing-making  Earl  of  Warwick. 

\  The  new  apartments  at  Hampton  Court, 
gulfed  on  the  ruins  of  fart  of  Wolfey's  palact. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  EDWARD  LOVTBOND. 


BY  MISS  G 

AH  !  what  avails  —  that  once  the  mufes  crown'd 
Thy  head  with  laurels,  and  thy  temples  bound  '. 
That  in  that  poliih'd  mind  bright  genius  (hone, 
That  letter'd  fcience  mark'd  it  for  her  own  ! 
Cold  is  that  breaft  that  breath'd  celeftial  fire  '. 
Mute  is  that  tongue,  and  mute  that  tuneful  lyre  \ 
O  could  my  mufe  but  emulate  thy  lays, 
Immortal  numbers  (hould  record  thy  praife, 
Redeem  thy  virtues  from  oblivion's  deep, 
And  o'er  thy  urn  bid  diftant  ages  weep  !— 
Yet  though  no  laureat  flowers  beftrew  thy  herfef 
Nor  pompous  founds  exalt  the  glowing  verfe, 
Sublimer  truth  infpires  this  humbler  ftrain, 
Bids  love  lament,  and  friendship  here  complain  r 
Bids  o'er  thy  tomb  the  mufe  her  forrows  fhed, 
And  weep  her  genius,  number'*!  with  the  dead  !~» 


THE 

POETICAL  WORKS 


O  F 


THOMAS    PENROSE. 


Containing 

FLIGHTS  OF   FANCY,  /•        ODES, 
ADDRESS  TO  THE  GENIUS  OF  BRITAIN,  ELKGIES, 

THE  FIELD  OF  BATTL1,  EPISTLES, 

THE  CURATE,  |j        FRAGMENTS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


Borne  on  fancy's  wing  along, 

High  foars  the  bard's  enraptur'd  foul ; 
Round  him  floats  the  joy  of  fong, 

Round  him  airs  ecftatic  roll. 

THE  HARP. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BT  MUNDZLL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSED 
yfaw  1795, 


THE  LIFE  OF  PhNROSE. 


Fo«  the  few  particulars  which  are  recorded  of  the  perfonal  hiftory  of  PENROII,  the  world  is  in 
debted  to  his  relation,  John  Pcttit  Andrews,  Efq.,  the  editor  of  his  works,  and  author  of  "  The 
Hiftory  of  Great  Britain,"  3  vols.  410,  1794-95  and  other  literary  performances. 

The  fa<2s  ftated  in  the  prelent  account,  are  chiefly  taken  from  the  brief  "  Introduction"  of  Mr. 
Andrews,  dated  "  The  Grove,  Nov  1781,"  with  fuch  additional  information  as  the  "  Gentle- 
man's  Magazine,'*  and  other  publications,  have  fupplied. 

Thomas  Penrofe  was  born  in  174.?.  He  was  the  fon  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pcnrofe,  re&or  of  Nevr- 
bury  in  Berkfliire,  defcended  from  an  ancient  family  in  Cornwall ;  a  man  of  high  character  and  abi 
lities,  and  beloved  and  refpe&ed  by  all  who  knew  him. 

Being  intended  for  the  church,  after  paffing  through  the  ufual  courfc  of  fchool  education  in  the 
country ;  he  was  entered  at  Chrift  Church  College,  Oxford,  where  he  purfued  his  ftudks,  for  fome 
time,  with  remarkable  fuccefs. 

In  the  fummer  1762,  his  eager  turn  to  the  naval  and  military  line,  overpowering  his  attachment  t» 
his  real  intereft,  he  left  his  college,  and  embarked  in  the  private  expedition  againft  Buenos  Ayres, 
in  South  America,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Macnamara,  an  adventurer  of  fpirit  and  experi 
ence. 

The  embarkation  was  made  from  the  Tagus,  Aug.  30.  1761 ;  and  the  force,  partly  Englifh,  and 
partly  Portuguefe,  confined  of  the  Lord  Clive  of  64  guns ;  the  Ambufcade  of  40,  in  board  which 
Penrofe  a&ed  as  a  lieutenant  of  marines ;  the  Gloria  of  38  ;  and  fome  faiall  armed  veflels  and  ftore- 
ftips.  They  had  on  board  about  5 so  foldiers. 

The  Spaniard*  having,  fome  time  before,  taken  the  Portuguefe  fettlement  of  Nova  Colonia  they 
judged  it  neceflary  to  begin  with  the  recovery  of  that  fettlement  before  they  made  any  attack  upon 
Buenos  Ayres. 

Though  the  enterprise  was  not  without  danger,  there  was  great  reafon  to  expedt  fuccefs.  The 
dips  were  in  good  order,  and  the  men  in  good  fpirits.  They  advanced  to  the  attack  with  horns 
founding  and  drums  beating ;  and  every  thing  expreffed  hope  and  joy. 

This  gay  preparative  was  followed  by  a  fierce  fire,  fupported  on  both  fides  for  four  hour?,  at  a 
very  fmall  diftance,  with  uncommon  refolution ;  but  the  fpirit  and  perfeverance  of  the  Spaniards, 
were  more  than  equalled  by  the  Britifli  mips,  whofe  fire  at  length  became  fuperior.  The  SpanJflj 
batteries  were  almoft  filenced.  The  Englifh  were  in  expectation  of  feeing  the  colours  immediately 
{truck,  when  jiift  as  their  fuccefs  feemed  certain,  by  fome  unknown  accident,  die  Lord  Clivc  took 
fire.  In  an  inftant  (he  was  all  in  a  blaze.  The  fame  moment  difcovered  the  flames,  and  the  impof- 
fibility  of  extinguishing  them. 

Then  was  to  be  feen  a  mofl  dreadful  fpe&acle.  All  the  fides  of  the  ftip  were  immediately  crowd 
ed  with  naked  men,  who,  but  a  few  minutes  before,  reckoned  chemftlves  aimoft  in  the  affured  pof- 
lefiron  of  wealth  and  conqueft,  precipitating  themfelves  into  thefea,  with  the  melancholy  alternative 
ef  a  death  by  fire  or  water.  The  enemy's  fire,  which  recommenced  o«  this  accident,  redoubled 
their  diftrefs ;  and  many  who  might  have  efcaped  drowning,  pcriflied  by  the  fhot.  Captain  Mac 
namara  was  drowned ;  and  of  340  fouls,  only  78  in  all  efcaped. 

The  other  veffels  of  the  fquadron,  far  from  being  able  to  afford  any  afliftance  to  the  fufferers,  werf 
objiged  to  get  offasexpeditioufly  w  they  could,  left  they  fhould  have  been  involved  in  the  fame  fate 


fog  THE   LIFE   OF   PENROSE. 

The  Ambufcade  with  difficulty  efcaped.  She  was  little  better  than  a  wreck.  She  had  fixty  fhot 
in  her  hull,  and  fix  feet  of  water  in  her  hold  ;  and  all  her  rigging  was  miferably  mangled.  By  ex 
ertion  of  uncommon  efforts,  they  made  a  fhiftto  get  into  the  Portuguefe  fettlement  at  Rio  Janeiro. 

Amidft  the  preparations  for  the  attack  of  Nova  Colonia,  the  attention  of  Penrofe  was  occupied  by 
the  tender  remembrance  of  Mifs  Mary  Slocock,  of  Newbury,  the  lady  whom  he  afterwards  mar- 
.ried,  to  whom,  with  equal  colleftednefs  and  tranquillity  of  mind,  he  wrote  the  verfes  on  board  tie 
Jbnlufcade,  Jan.  6. 1763 : 

Amidft  this  nobly  awful  fcene, 
Ere  yet  fell  Daughter's  rage  begin, 

Ere  death  his  conquefts  fwell, 
Let  me  to  love  this  tribute  pay, 
For  Pally  frame  this  parting  lay, 

Perhaps  my  laft  farewell. 
For  fince  Full  low  among  the  dead, 
Muft  many  a  gallant  youth  be  laid, 

Ere  this  day's  work  be  o'er, 
Perhaps  even  1,  with  joyful  eyes, 
That  faw  this  morning's  fun  arifev 

Shall  fee  it  fet  no  more. 

On  leaving  the  river  of  Plate,  after  the  unfuccefsful  attack  of  Nova  Colonia,  in  which  he  was 
Wounded,  he  folaced  his  forrow  for  the  melancholy  lofs  of  his  companions,  by  inscribing  an  elegy  to 
the  memory  of  the  unfortunate  fufferers : 

Adieu  !  ye  walls;  thou  fatal  flream  farewell, 

By  war's  fad  chance,  beneath  whofe  muddy  waves, 
Full  many  a  gallant  youfh  untimely  fell, 

Full  many  a  Briton  found  an  early  grave  J 
Beneath  thy  tide,  ah  !  filent  now  they  roll, 

Or  tread  with  mangled  limbs  thy  fandy  fhore : 
The  trumpet's  call  no  more  awakes  their  foul ; 

The  battle's  voice,  they  now  fhall  hear  no  more. 

Though  the  Ambufcade  efcaped,  and  he  recovered  from  the  wound  he  received  in  the  engage 
ment,  yet  the  hardfhips  which  he  afterwards  fuftained  in  a  prize  floop,  in  which  he  was  ftationed, 
Utterly  ruined  his  conftitution.  ' 

Returning  to  England,  with  ample  teflimonials  of  his  gallantry  and  good  behaviour,  he  finifhcd, 
at  Hertford  College,  Oxford,  his  academical  ftudk's ,  and,  having  taken  orders,  accepted  the  cu 
racy  of  Newbury,  the  income  of  which,  by  the  voluntary  fubfcription  of  the  inhabitants,  was  con- 
fiderably  augmented. 

In  1764,  he  lamented  the  lofs  of  a  fifter,  in  a  pathetic  Elegy  to  tie  Memory  of  Mifs  Mary  Penrofe, 
•wlodieJ,  Dec.1%.  1764,  in  tie  nineteenth  year  of  her  age. 

In  1768,  he  married  Mifs  Slocock  of  Newbury,  whofe  beauty  and  accomplifliments  had  made 
an  early  impreffion  on  his  fufceptible  heart. 

1°  T774>  he  publifhed  a  Sermon,  preached  at  the  funeral  of  the  Rev.  John  Geree,  410,  which  was 
followed,  in  1775,  by  his  Flights  of  Fancy,  410 ;  confifting  of  three  fhort  poems,  the  Helmets,  the 
Caroufal  cf  Odin,  and  Madnefs ;  which  were  read  with  general  approbation. 

The  year  following,  he  expreffed  his  difapprobation  of  the  conduct  of  government  towards  Ameri 
ca,  in  his  Addrefs  to  the  Genius  of  Britain,  410 ;  in  which  he  requefted  that  power  to  folicit  his  Ma- 
jefty  to  put  an  end  to  our  civil  diffenfions ;  but  it  was  nothing  mere  than  oferam  atque  oleum  ferderc. 

In  1777,  he  publifhed  a  Sermon  preached  on  the  national  faft,  4to,  which  was  the  laft  publication 
he  gave  to  the  world. 

After  he  had  continued  in  the  ftation  of  a  curate  about  nine  years,  it  feemed  as  if  the  clouds  of 
difappointment,  which  had  hitherto  overfhadowed  his  profpects,  and  tin&ured  his  poetical  effays 
with  gloom,  were  clearing  away ;  for  he  was  then  prefented  by  a  friend,  who  knew  his  worth,  and 
honoured  his  abilities,  to  the  redtory  of  Beckington  and  Standerwick,  in  Somerfetfliire,  worth  near 
500 1.  per  annum.  It  came,  however,  too  late;  for  the  ftate  of  his  health,  which  had  been  for 
fome  time  declining,  was  now  fuch  as  left  little  hope,  except  In  the  affiftancs  of  the  waters  of  Erif.-. 
tol. 


THE    LIFE   OF    PENRO9E.  fc>? 

Thither  he  went,  and  there  he  died  in  1777,  in  the  36th  year  of  his  age;  leaving  one  child, 
Thomas,  admitted  on  the  foundation  of  Winchefter  College  in  1781, 

His  Flights  ofRi/icy,  and  AdJrsfs  ti  the  Genius  af  Brit  ii;t,  were  reprinted,  with  feveral  pieces,  never 
before  printed,  in  one  volume  xamo,  under  the  title  of  Po?n>s  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Thomas  Pcnrofe,  1781, 
with  an  "  Introduction"  hy  James  P^ttit  Andrews,  Efq.  containing  a  fhort  account  of  his  life  and 
character..  They  are  now,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1781,  received,  for  the  firft  time,  into  a  collco' 
lion  of  claffical  Itaglifh  poetry. 

"  Mr.  Penrofe",  fays  Mr.  Andrews,  who  knew  him  well,  "  %vas  refpected  for  his  extend  ve  eru 
dition,  admired  for  his  eloquence,  and  equally  heloved  and  efteemed  for  his  focial  qualities.  By  the 
poor,  towards  whom  he  was  liberal  to  his  utmoft  ability,  he  was  venerated  to  the  higheft  degree. 
In  oratory  and  compofition,  his  talents  were  great.  His  pencil  was  ready  as  his  pen  ;  and  on  fubjects 
of  humour,  had  uncommon  merit.  To  his  poetical  abilities,  the  public,  hy  their  reception  of  his 
Flights  nf  fancy,  &c.  gave  fevera.1  favourable  teftimonies.  To  fum  tip  the  whole,  his  figure  and 
addrefs  were  as  pleafing  as  his  mind  was  ornamented. 

"  Such  was  Mr.  Penrofe,  to  whofe  memory  I  pay  this  juft  and  willing  tribute,  and  to  whom  1 
confiuer  it  as  an  honour  to  be  related : 

•"  Multis  ille  bonis  flebilis  cccidet 
Nullis  fiebilior  quam  mihi." 

Penrofe  has  written  but  little ;  but  his  Flights  of  Fancy,  if  he  had  written  nothing  elfe,  are  fuf- 
ficient  to  entitle  him  to  a  claffical  diftinction  among  the  poets  of  our  country. 

All  his  comp'ofitions  bear  evident  marks  of  a  natural  enthufiafm,  harmony,  and  fimplicity.  But  it 
is  in  the  higher  kinds  of  poetry,  which  require  the  fnoft  vigorous  exertions  of  fancy,  and  to  which 
a  laboured  and  artificial  diction  is  beft  fuited,  that  lie  chiefly  excels.  His  lyric  competitions  arc 
characterized  by  a  luxuriance  of  imagination,  a  wild  fublimity  of  fancy,  and  a  command  of  language, 
•which  entitle  them  to  rank  with  the  productions  of  Collins,  Gray,  and  other  writers  of  the  fame 
fchopl.  They  are  replete  with  the  fame  fpirit  of  imperfonation,  the  fame  animation  of  fenti- 
ment,  the  fame  magnificence  of  phrafeology,  the  fame  general  and  expanded  defcfiption.  But  thejr 
have  more  of  the  fpirit  and  manner  of  Collins  than  of  Gray.  They  are  impregnated  with  the  ge 
nuine  feeds  ofpoetry ;  but  they  have  more  of  the  enthufiafm  that  "  delights  and  chills,''  than  of  the 
"  pomp  and  prodigality  of  heaven." 

His  Flights  of  Fancy  confift  of  three  poems.  The  firft  is  intituled,  The  Helmuts,  wherein  thefc 
.  formidable  pieces  of  ancient  armour,  afe  fiippofed  to  rife  and  prognofticate  civil  diffenfions  in  Britain, 
in  confequence  of  the  difturbarlces  in  America.  It  is  written  in  blank  verfe,  and  affords  a  fpecimen  of 
conliderable  ftrength  and  harmony  in  that  metre.  The  general  imagery  is  well  conceived,  the  fenti- 
ments  are  kappily  fuited  to  the  fubject.and  the  expreffion  is  often  highly  poetical.  The  predominant 
defect  is  an  obfcure  iriagnificence.  In  the  fecoud  poem,  The  Caroufal  of  Odin,  we  recognize  both  the 
fpirit  and  manner  of  Gray.  It  is  evidently  modelled  upon  his  "  Norfe.Odes,"  and  is  impregnated  with 
fire  and  poetical  enthufiafm,  in  an  uncommon  degree.  The  laft,  intituled  Madnefs,  is  a  compofition 
of  a  fuperior  order,  and  challenges  a  comparifon  with  the  "  Mufic  Ode"  of  Dryden,  the  "  Paflions"  of 
Collins,  and  the  "  Bard"  of  Gray.  The  difpofition  is  artfnl  and  happy.  The  mind  of  the  reader,  after 
the  horror  excited  by  the  view  of  the  fettered  maniac,  is  relieved  by  a  tender  and  pathetic  melancholy  on 
beholding  the  fctr  diJtraRed  fair.  And,  again,  that  melancholy  paffes  into  a  different,  though  a 
kindred  pity,  occafioned  by  the  circumftances  of  the  mimic  monarcb,  whofe  difturhing  the  reveries  of 
the  love-lorn  meiif,  produces  the  finefl  poetical  and  dramatic  effect.  This  evinces  the  poet's  tafle;  for 
if  the  difpofition  had  been  different,  the  effect  would  have  been  lefs  happy.  He  is  not  lefs  fortunate 
in  his  defcription  ;  the  maniac  appearing  firft  in  all  the  terrible  circumftances  of  his  character,  and 
ivery  fuggeftion  of  tendernefs,  and  all  the  fenfations  of  pity  called  up  to  qualify  the  attendant  horror: 

No  pkafing  memory  left — forgotten  quite 
All  former  fcenes  of  dear  delight, 
Connubial  love — parental  joy,  &c. 

Nothing  can  he  more  finely  pictured  than  the  fubject  of  the  love  madncfs.  Tbe  whole  defcnptiori 
Maintains  the  trneft  propriety,  and  is  executed  with  the  happieft  care. 
VOL.  XI.  3 


6iO  THE  LIFE   Of   PENROSE. 

Now,  fadly  gay,  of  forrows  pa.fl  fhe  lings, 
NoWj  penfive,  ruminates  unutterable  things— 
is  one  of  thofe  exquifitc  flrokes  that  only  can  fall  from  the  pencil  of  true  genius.     Equally  happy 
too,  is  the  exprefiion  itfelf,  as  the  idea  it  conveys. 

ruminates  unutterable  things. 

It  is  impoffible  that  the  fame  idea  fhould  be  fo  powerfully  impreffed  by  any  other  words. 

The  fetter'd  maniac  foams  along, 
(Rage  the  burden  of  his  jarring  fong  ) 
In  rage  he  grinds  his  teeth,  and  rends  his  flreaming  hair. 

The  fecond  line  is  another  inflance  of  excellent  and  well  adapted  expreflion.  Had  it  been  fmoothed 
ind  regularized  by  the  word  is,  after  rage,  it  would  have  wanted  its  prefent  force,  its  characteriftic 
diflbnance,  and  harfhnefs.  The  line  that  follows  it  is  eqaally  excellent.  The  picture  of  the  Momus 
vftbejlighiy  train,  is  entitled  to  great  praife. 

Merry  mifchief  fills  his  brain, 

Blanket-rob'd,  and  antic  crown'd, 

The  mimic  monarch  flcips  around  ; 
Big  with  conceit  of  dignity,  hefmiles, 
And  plots  his  frolics  quaint,  and  unfufpected  wilej . 

There  are  many  more  remarkable  beauties  in  this  excellent  ode,  particularly  the  dcfcription  of 
Devotion's  ruin' d  child ;  to  which  the  reader  of  tafte  will  require  no  direction. 

His  Addrefsto  the  Genius  of  Britain,  is  written  with  a  liberal  fpirit,  and  contains  forrre  pathetic  paf- 
fages  and  beautiful  lines.  It  is  devoted  to  his  patriot  feelings,  and  he  delivers  his  fentiments  (which 
may  now  be  confidered  asprophefic)  with  a  fervour  that  leaves  no  doubt  on  our  minds  of  the  virtue 
of  his  intentions.  In  this  performance,  there  is  considerable  ftrength  of  numbers,  of  painting,  and  of 
fancy. 

Of  his  pofthumous  poems,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  every  piece  will  be  equally  correct  and 
finifhed  as  it  might  have  been,  had  he  lived  to  fuperintend  the  publication  himfelf.  There  are,  how 
ever,  feveral  pieces,  not  unworthy  of  the  fame  pen,  which  produced  Madnefs.  Of  thefe,  not  the 
leaft  beautiful,  is  the  Field  of  Battle.  To  the  reader  of  fenfibility,  it  will  be  ncedlefs  to  point  out  the 
particular  merit  of  the  following  ftanzas,  defcribing  the  diftraction  of  the  wife  of  an  officer,  in  fearch 
of  her  hufband,  fluin  in  battle. 

She  preft  to  hear— fhe  caught  the  tale— 

At  every  found  her  Wood  congeal'd— 
With  terror  bold— with  terror  pale. 

She  fprung  to  fearch  the  fatal  field. 
O'er  the  fad  fcene,  in  dire  amaze 

She  went — with  courage  not  her  own— 
Oh  many  a  corpfe  fhe  eaft  her  gaze — 

And  turn'd  her  ear  to  many  a  groan. 
Drear  anguifh  urged  her  to  prefs 

Full  many  a  hand,  as  wild  fhe  mourn'd, 
— Of  comfort  glad,  the  drear  carefs, 
The  damp  cold  dying  hand  return'd. 

Ths  exquifitely  pathetic  and  natural  thought  contained  in  the  two  laft  lines,  would"  fcarcelyhave 
fuggefted  itfelfto  any  one  who  had  not  been  an  eye-witnefs  of  the  affecting  fcenes,  fubfequent  to  a 
military  engagement ;  and  who  had  not,  probably,  experienced,  from  the  hand  of  fome  expiring 
friend,  a  return  fimilar  to  what  he  has  fo  feelingly  defcribed.  The  fragment,  intituled  The  Curate, 
deferves  great  praife,  for  happy  delineation  of  character,  natural  humour,  quaint  phrafeology,  ten- 
dernefs  of  fentiraent,  and  fimplicity  of  expreflion.  The  verfes  to  his  -wife,  on  the  anniverfary  of 
their  wedding  day,  {hews  the  mind  t>f  the  writer  in  an  amiable  point  of  view.  The  Hermit's  V'tfton, 
Mortality, The  Jnfice,  Donningtcn  Cajl/et  Poverty,  The  Harp,  sue  characterized  by  fuperior  animation 
of  fentiment,  fertility  of  invention,  and  fplendor  of  diction.  Of  his  Elegies,  the  general  character, 
both  of  the  fentiments  and  the  language,  is  tendernefs  and  fimplicity ;  the  verification  is  harmoni 
ous,  and  a  general  air  of  chflic  elegance  runs  through  the  whole.  His  fragments  and  fmaller  pieces 
may  be  read  with  pleafure,  though  they  have-not  a  fufficient  degree  of  merit  to  entitle  them  to  a 
place  among  the  favcurcd  productions  of  poefy. 


THE  WORKS  OF  PENROSE. 


POEMS,     &c. 


ADDRESSED  TO  THREE  LADIES. 

dN   THE    DEATH    OF    A    FAVOURITE    PARROqUET. 

DEEP  from  your  hallow'd,  filent  (hades 
Attend,  attend,  ye  tuneful  maids  ; 

Ye  miifes,  hafte  along. 
Infpire  the  tender,  moving  lay, 
For  furely  fuch  a  mournful  day 

Demands  a  tenons  fung. 

See  where  with  pity's  force  oppreft, 
(While  riling  forrows  heave  each  bread) 

Three  gentle  filters  weep. 
See  how  they  point  with  dreaming  eyes. 
Where  Parroquetta  flumb'ring  lies, 

Her  latt,  eternal  fleep. 

In  vain  the  pride  of  beauty's  bloom, 
The  vivid  dye,  the  varied  plume 

O'er  her  fair  form  were  fpread  : 
In  vain  the  fcarlet's  blulhing  ray, 
Bright  as  the  orient  beam  of  day, 

Adorn'd  her  lovely  head. 

Love,  beauty,  youth,  perfection, — aU 
Together  undiltinguiuYd  fall 

Before  the  oppofmg  fates. 
The  lifping  tongue,  the  filver  hairs, 
One  common  ruin  overbears, 

One  common  lot  awaits. 

Then  calm,  dear  maids,  your  woes  to  peace, 
With  unavailing  forrow  ceafe 

Your  favourite  to  deplore  ; 
For  know,  the  time  will  furely  come 
When  you  (though  now  in  beauty's  bloom) 

When  you  fliall  charm  no  more. 

Learn  then  your  moments  to  employ 
In  virtuous  love,  in  Hymen's  joy, 

Ere  yet  thofe  moments  fly ; 
For  fate  hasdoom'd  this  lot  fevere, 
The  brighteft  belle,  the  lovelieft  fair, 

Like  parruquetes,  muft  die. 

Written  Friday  Evening,  February  <r,  1762,  v: 
the  Cloyfters  of  Chriji  Church,  Oxiin  ;  tfh  being 
difappointed  of  going  to  the  Ajfembly  at  Ne-w- 
lury,  Berks. 

LOUD  howl  the  winds  around  this  awful  pile, 
•    A  duflcy  light  the  pale-ey'd  mcpn-beams  flied ; 
While  1  amid  the  long-drawn  cloyftev'd  aifle, 
Silent  and  fad  the  letter'd  pavement  tread. 


Where,  low  in  earth — ah  '.  never  more  to  rife, 
Unnotic'd,  unregarded,  and  unknown, 

Full  many  a  flirouded  ftudent  fleeping  lies, 
O'er  whom  ftill  weeps  the  monumental  done. 

Here,  as  I  pace  the  hallow'd  gloom  along, 
Where  at  this  hour  no  other  foot  dares  rove, 

Quick  on  my  mind  what  dear  ideas  throng, 
How  heaves  my  heart,  and  melts  with  faithful 
love. 

See,  fee  my  Chloe  rifes  to  my  view, 

In  all  the  pride  of  youth  and  virtue's  charms ! 
Swift  as  the  winds  the  fair  one  I  purfue, 

But  clafp  an  empty  phantom  to  my  arms. 

Methinks  I  fee  the  dance's  circling  round, 
The  cheerful  mufic,  hark  !  methinks,  I  hear  '. 

The  viol  fweet,  and  hautboy's  gladfome  found, 
And  fprightly  tabor  ftrike  my  wond'ring  ear. 

But  ah  '.  again  the  pleafing  dream  is  gone  ; 

Swift  as  the  gales,  fee,  fee,  it  flies  away  ; 
And  leaves  me  wretched,  darkling,  and  alone 

Amidft  this  melancholy  fcene  to  dray. 

O  !  hear,  ye  gcds,  accept  my  humble  pray'r  ! 

Grant  me,   O  1  grant  my  heart's  fond,  bed  de- 
fire  ; 
Give  to  my  faithful  arms,  my  condant  fair ; 

Give  this — nor  wealth,  nor  honours  I  require 

TO  MISS  SLOCOCK. 

Written  on  board  the  Ambufcade,  Jan.  6th  1763, 
ajbort  Time  b 'fore  the  Attack  of  Nova  Cohnia 
do  Sacramento,  in  the  river  cf  Plate* 

THE  fates  ordain,  we  mud  obey; 
This,  this  is  rioom'd  to  be  the  day  j 

The  hour  of  war  draws  near. 
The  eager  crew  with  bufy  care 
Their  inltruments  of  death  prepare, 

And  banifli  every  fear. 

The  martial  trumpets  call  to  arms, 
Each  bread  with  fuch  an  ardc^ir  warms, 

As  Britons  only  know. 
The  flag  of  battle  waving  high, 
Attracts  with  joy  each  Briton's  eye ; 

With  terror  Itrikes  the  foe. 

Amidft  this  nobly  awful  fcene, 
Ere  yet  fell  flaughter's  rage  begin, 
Ere  death  hisconqneftsfwelJ, 


THE  WORKS   OF   PENKOSE. 


Let  me  to  love  this  tribute  pay, 
For  Polly  frame  the  parting  lay  ; 
Perhaps  my  laft  farewell. 

For  fince  full  low  among  the  dead, 
Muft  many  a  gallant  youth  be  laid, 

Ere  this  day's  work  be  o'er  : 
Perhaps  e'en  I,  with  joyful  eyes 
That  faw  this  morning's  fun  arife, 

Shall  fee  it  fet  no  more. 

My  love  that  ever  burnt  fo  true, 
That  but  for  thee  no  wifhes  knew ; 

My  heart's  fond,  beft  defire  I 
Shall  be  remember'd  e'en  in  death-, 
And  only  with  my  lateft  breath, 

With  life's  laft  pang  expire. 

And  when,  dear  maid,  my  fate  you  hear, 
(Sore  love  like  mine  demands  one  tear, 

Demands  one  heart-felt  figh) 
?vfy  pail  fad  errors,  O  forgive, 
Let  my  few  virtues  only  live, 

My  follies  with  me  die. 

But,  hark  1  the  voice  of  battle  calls ; 
Loud  thund'ring  from  the  tow'ry  walb 

Now  roars  the  hoftile  gun, 
Adieu,  dear  maid  !— with  ready  feet, 
i  go  prepar'd  the  worft  to  meet, 

Thy  will,  O  God,  be  done  1 

ELEGY 

C/z  leaving  the  River  of  Plate,  after  the  unfac. 
cefsful  Attack  of  Nova  Colonia  do  Sacramento, 
by  the  Lord  Clive  of  64  Guns,  the  Ambufcade 
cf^Q,  and  the  Gloria  of  38  /  in  'which  the  for 
mer  fwas  unfortunately  burnt,  with  the  greateft 
fart  of  her  crew  ;  and  the  two  /.fitter  obliged 
to  retire  in  a  very  flattered  condition, 

WHILE  the  torn  veffel  ftems  her  lab'ring  way, 
Ere  yon  blue  hills  fink  ever  from  my  view  ; 

Let  me  to  forrow  raife  the  tribute  lay  ; 
And  take  of  them  my  long,  my  laft  adieu. 

Adieu  !  ye  walls  !  thou  fatal  ftream  farewell ; 

By  war's  fad  chance  beneath  whofe  muddy 

wave' 
Fall  many  a  gallant  youth  untimely  fell, 

Full  many  a  Briton  found  an  early  grave. 

Beneath  thy  tide,  ah  !  filent  now  they  roll, 
Or  ftrew  with  .mangled  limbs  thy  fandy  fliore ; 

The  trumpet's  call  no  more  awakes  their  foul ! 
The  battle's  voice  they  now  fliall  hear  no  more. 

tn  vain  the  conftant  wife  and  feeble  fire, 
Expectant  wifli  their  lov'd  return  to  fee  ; 

In  vain  their  infants'  lifping  tongues  inquire, 
And  wait  the  itory  on  their  father's  knee. 

Ah  !  nought  avails  their  anxious,  bufy  care ; 

Far,  far,  they  lie,  on  hoftile  feas  they  fell ; 
The  wife's,  fire's,  infant's  joy  no  more  to  (hare, 

The  tale  of  glorious  deeds  no  more  to  tell. 

.Learn  then,  ye  fair,  for  others  woes  to  feel, 
Lfrt  the  foft  tear  bedew  the  fyarkiing  eye  j 


When  the  brave  perifli  for  their  Country's  wtfal, 
"Tis  pity's  debt  to  heave  the  heartfelt  figh. 

Ah  !  glorious  Drake  !  far  other  lot  was  thine. 
Fate  gave  to  thee  to  quell  the  hoftile  pride; 

To  feize  the  treafures  of  Fotofi's  mine, 
And  fail  triumphant  o'er  La  Plata's  tide. 

But  Providence,  on  fecret  wonders  bent, 
Conceals  its  purpofes  from  mortal  view  ; 

And  Heaven  no  doubt  with  fome  allwife  intent, 
Deny'd  to  numbers  what  it  gave  to  few. 

ELEGY 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MISS  MARY  PENROSE, 

Who  died  December  iStb,  1764,  in  the  Nineteenth 
year  of  her  Age. 

HEARD  ye  the  bell  from  yonder  dufky  tower  ? 

Deep,  deep  it  tolls  the  fummons  of  the  dead ; 
And  marks  with  fuilen  note  the  folemn  hour, 

That  calls  Maria  to  her  earthy  bed. 

O  !  come,  ye  mournful  virgin  train,  attend, 
With  mufing  ftep  the  hallow'd  place  draw  near, 

View   there  your  once-lov'd,   happy,   blooming 

friend, 
Now  filent,  flumb'ring  on  the  fable  bier. 

Come  ye,  who  join'd  in  friendfliip's  facred  tie, 
With  her  engag'd  in  pleafure's  guiltlefs  fcene  } 

Who  fhar'd  with  her  the  tender,  focial  joy  ; 
Wove  the  gay  dance,  or  trod  the  flow'ry  green  : 

Mark  here,  O  !  mark,  how  chang'd,  how  alter'd 
lies  [beat  high  ; 

The  breaft  that  once  with  youth's  warm  tide 
Read  your  own  fate  inher's;--  in  time  be  wife, 

And  from  her  bright  example  learn  to  die. 

Like  drooping  lillies  cropt  by  wint'ry  wind, 
For  fate  has  doom'd  the  hour  when  die  you 
muft, 

Muft  leave  the  world's  fantaftic  dreams  behind, 
And  ileep,  and  mingle  with  your  parent  duft. 

Say,  are  your  forms  with  youth's  foft  graces  dreft  ? 

Say,  are  they  ting'd   with  beauty's  brightest 

bloom  ? 
Sconce  washer's— -by  you — by  all  confeft, 

'Till  death  untimely  fwept  her  to  the  tomb. 

Her  eyes  beam'd  out  how  innocent,  how  meek! 

At  whofe  rebuke  vice  fbrunk  abaih'd  and  pale ; 
Like  vernal  roles  blufh'd  her  modeft  cheek, 

Like  them  as  lovely,  and  like  them  as  frail. 

How  was  (lie  fkill'd  the  fofteft  breafts  to  move  I 
Of  hardeft  hearts  the  paflions  rough  to  bend  ! 

How  was  flie  fkill'd  to  win  the  general  love  ! 
How  form'd  to  blel's  the  hufband  or  the  friend  I 

With  meek-foul'd  charity,  with  pitying  hands, 
To  mifery  oft  her  little  ftore  the  gave  ; 

Now  flie  herfelf  our  flowing  tears  demands, 
And  bids  our  pious  drops  bedew  her  grave. 

There  on  her  dufty  couch  in  firm  repofe, 

Deaf  to  our  call,  the  clay-cold  flumb'rer  lies; 

Her  beauty  faded-like  the  blafted  rofe,          [eyes. 
Mute  her  fweet  tongue,  aud  clos'd  her  radiant 


POEM 


Full  many  r.n  hour  of  agonizing  pain 

She,  patient  fufFerer,  bore  her  lot  fevere  ; 

Well  did  the  anguiih  of  her  foul  reftrain, 
Nor  dropt  one  female,  one  repining  tear. 

'Midft  life's  laft  pangs  religion  lent  her  aid, 
And  wip'd  with  lenient  hand  her  mifty  eyes; 

With  bleft  affurance  cheer'd  the  pain-worn  maid, 
And  bad  her  hopes  high-fearing  reach  the  ikies. 

There  now,  enroll'd  with  heavenly  angels  bright, 
Whofe  hallow *d  hymns  their  Maker's  glorious 

raife, 
She  {nines,  refulgent  in  the  blaze  of  light, 

And  fwells  with  raptur'd  note    the   voice  of 
piaiie. 

Look  down,  bleft  faint,  O  !  turn  a  pitying  eye  ! 

If  yet  in  heav'n  a  brother's  name  be  dear: 
In  the  dread  hour  of  danger  be  thou  nigh, 

And  lead  me  far  from  vice's  baneful  fnare. 

Teach  me,  whate'er  my  future  lot  fhall  be, 
To  God's  juft  will  my  being  to  refign  : 

Teach  me  to  fail  through  life's  tempeituous  fea  ; 
And  like  thy  lateft  parting  hour  be  mine. 


TO  MY  DEAREST  WIFE, 

ON  OUR  WEDDING-DAY. 

THE  happy  morn's  arriv'd  at  laft, 
That  binds  our  nuptial  union  faft  ; 
And  knits  our  plighted  vows  in  one, 
With  bonds  that  ne'er  can  be  undone. 
Can  I  be  backward  then,  to  pay 
The  tribute  of  this  joyful  day  ? 
Can  I  refufe  my  voice  to  raife, 
And  hymn  to  God  the  fong  of  praife  ? 


No — furely  gratitude  demands 

This  humble  action  from  my  hands, 

And  bids  me  blefs  that  God  who  gave 

Safe  paffage  o'er  the  itormy  wave, 

Who  turn'd  the  fhafts  of  war  afide, 

And  blefs'd  me  with  fo  lov'd  a  bride. 

O  !  be  that  feafon  ne'er  forgot, 

When  hope  itfelf  could  flatter  not, 

When  doubts  were  all  my  foul's  employ, 

Nor  dar'd  I  paint  the  prefent  joy. 

But  yet,  my  love,  be  mine  the  blame, 

Thy  goodnefs  ever  was  the  fame  ; 

The  fault  was  mine,  mifguided  youth! 

When  folly  held  the  place  of  truth. 

And  vice  and  error's  fyren  fmile, 

My  artlefs  bofom  did  beguile. 

What  though,  by  heedlels  heat  mifled, 

To  war  and  foreign  climes  I  fled, 

Forfook  thy  love,  and  peaceful  eafe, 

And  plough'd,  long  plough'd  the  fouthern  fca»; 

Yet,  though  unworthy  of  thy  care, 

Thy  kind,  deir  love  purfu'd  me  there, 

And  'midfl  the  battle's  horrid  ftrife, 

Thy  tender  pray'r  preferv'd  my  life. 

God  heard  thy  pray'rs,  my  heart's  lov'd  queen, 

His  Ihieid  protected  me  unfeen, 

His  favour  kept  me  fafe  from  harms, 

And  lodg'd  me  in  thy  faithful  arms. 

Be't  then  my  tafk,  with  grateful  bread 

To  hufh  thy  ev'ry  care  to  reft, 

And  make  thee,  while  thy  love  furvives, 

The  happieft  of  all  happy  wives. 

Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  the  nuptial  VONT 

Shall  ever  bind  as  flrong  as  now ; 

My  duty  I  fhall  ne'er  forego, 

No  change,  no.  other  wifh  I'll  know; 

But  ftill  I'll  prove  to  life's  laft  end, 

The  kindeft  hulband,  trueft  friend.    . 


FLIGHTS  OF  FANCY. 


THE  HELMETS.— CAROUSAL  OF  ODIN.— MADNESS.— ADDRESS  TO  THE  GENIUS 

OF  BRITAIN. 


THE  HELMETS, 

A   FRAGMENT. 

The  Scene  of  tie  following  Event  is  laid  in  tb:  i:cigl- 
buurhood  of  Donning  tan  Cajlle,  in  a  Houfe  built  after 
the  Gothic  tajle,  upon  a  fjiot  famous  for  a  bhady  en 
counter  between  the  Armies  of  Charles  and  the  Pai- 
lia  meat, 

lie  Prognejl'uation  alludes  to  Chi!  Dijfenticn,  -which 
fame  have  foretold  would  arife  in  England,  in  cottfe- 
quenceofibe  difpute*  iv.tb  America. 
— '1  WAS  midnight~ every  mortal  eye  was  clos'd 
Thro'  the  whole  manfion — fave  ap  antique  crone's, 
6 


That  o'er  the  dying1  embers  Faintly  watch'd 

The.broken  flecp  (fell  harbinger  of  death) 

Of  a  fick  boteler.— Above  indeed 

In  a  drear  gall'ry  (lighted  by  one  lamp 

Whofe  wick  the  poor  departing  Senefchall 

Did  clofely  imitate),  pac'd  flow  and  fad 

The  village  curate,  waiting  late  to  fhrive 

The  penitent  when   'wake.      Scarce  fhow'd  the 

ray 

To  fancy's  eye,  the  pourtray'd  characters 
That  grac'd  the  wall— On  this  and  t'other  fide 
Sufpended,  nodded  o'er  the  fteepy  ftair, 
In  many  a  trophy  form'd,  the  knightly  grorioc 


6:4 


THE   WORKS   OF   PENROSE. 


Of  helms  and  targets,  gauntlefs,  maces  flrong, 
And  horfes"  furniture— brave  monuments 
Of  ancient  chivalry. — Through  the  ftain'd  pane 
Low  gleam'd  the  moon — not  bright — but  of  fuch 

pow'r 

As  marked  the  clouds,  black,  threatning  over  head, 
Fullmifchief-fraught; — from  thei'e  in  many  a  peal 
Growl'd  the  near  thunder — flalh'd  the  frequent 

blaze 

Of  light'ning  blue.— While  round  the  fretted  dome 
The  wind  fung  furly  :   with  unufual  clank 
The  armour  fnook  tremendous  : — On  a  couch 
Plac'd  in  the  oriel  *,  funk  the  churchman  down  : 
For  who,  alone,  at  that  dread  hour  of  night, 

Could  bear  portentous  prodigy  ? 

"  I  hear  it,"  cries  the  proudly  gilded  cafque 
(Fill'd  by  the  foul  of  one,  who  erfl  took  joy 
In  fianght'rous  deeds)  "  I  hear  amidft  the  gale 
"  The  hoflile  fpirit  fhouting — once — once  more 
"  In  the  thick  harveft  of  the  fpears  we'll  mine — 
"  There  will  be  work  anon."— — — 

, . "  I'm  'wakeu'd  too," 

Replied  the  fable  helmet  (tenanted 

By  a  like  inmate)  "  Hark !— I  hear  the  voice 

"  Of  the  impatient  ghofts,  who  ftraggHng  range 

"  Yon  fummit  (crown'd  with  ruin'd  battlements 

"  The  fruits  of  civil  dilcord),  to  the  din 

"  The  fpirits,  wand'ring  round  this  Gothic  pile, 

"  All  join  their  yell — the  fong  is  war  and  death — 

"  There  will  be  work  anon." 

"  Call  armourers,  lib  ! 
"  Furbifh  my  vizor — clofe  my  rivits  up— 

**  I  brook  no  dallying"—— 

— — "  Soft,  my  hafly  friend" 

Said  die  black  beaver,  "  Neither  of  us  twain 
"  Shall  (hare  the  bloody  toil — War-worn  am  I, 
"  Bor'd  by  a  happier  maCe,  I  let  in  fate 
"  To  my  once  mafter, — fince  unfought,  unus'd 
"  Penfile  I'm  fix'd — yet  too  your  gaudy  pride 
"  Has  nought  to  boaft, — the  fafhion  of  the  fight 
"  Has  thrown  your  gilt,  and  fhady  plumes  afide 
"  For  modern  foppery ; — ftill  do  not  frown, 
"  Nor  lower  indignantly  your  ftecly  brows, 
"  We've  comfort  left  enough — The  bookman's 

"  lore 

"  Shall  trace  our  fometime  merit ; — in  the  eye 
"  Of  antiquary  tafte  we  long  fliall  fhine  : 
"  And  as  the  fcholar  marks  our  rugged  front, 
"  He'll  fay,  this  Creffy  faw,  that  Agincourt : 
"  Thus  dwelling  on  the  prowefs  of  his  fathers, 
"  He'll  venerate  their  fhell. — Yet,  more  than  this, 
"  From  our  inactive  ftation  we  fhall  hear 
"  The  groans  of  butcher'd   brothers,   fhrieking 

"  plaints 

"  Of  ravifh'd  maids,  and  matrons'  frantic  howls, 
"  Already  hov'ring  o'er  the  threaten'd  lands 
«  The  famifh'd  raven  fnuffs  the  promis'd  feaft, 
«'  And  horflier  croaks  for  blood — 'twill  flow." 

i "  Forbid  it,  Heaven  !  [pray'd 

"  O  fhield  my  fuffering  country  !— Shield  it," 
The  agonizing  prieft. 

THE  CAROUSAL  OF  ODIN. 
FILL  the  honey'd  bev'rage  high, 
Fill  the  fculls,  'tis  Odin's  cry  : 

*  Oriel.     Jl  frojcfiing 


Heard  ye- not  the  powerful  call, 
Thund'ring  thro'  the  vaulted  hall  ? 
"  Fill  the  meuth,  and  fpread  the  board, 
"  Vaffals  of  the  gricfly  lord." — 

The  portal  hinges  grate, — they  come— 
The  din  of  voices  rocks  the  dome. 
In  ftalk  the  various  forms,  and  dreft 
In  various  armour,  various  veft, 
With  helm  and  morion,  targe  and  .fhield, 
Some  quivering  launces  couch,  fome  biting  maces 

wield : 
All  march  with  haughty  ftep,  all  proudly  fhake 

the  creft. 

The  feaft  begins,  the  fcull  goes  round, 
Laughter  fhouts — the  fhouts  refound. 
The  guft  of  war  lubfide. — E'en  now 
The  grim  chief  curls  his  cheeks,  and  imooths  his 
rugged  brow. 

"  Shame   to  your   placid    front,  ye  men  of 

"  death  !'' 
Cries  Hilda,  with  diforder'd  breath. 

Hell  echoes  back  her  feoff  of  fhame 
To  the  inactive  rev'ling  champion's  name. 
"  Call  forth  the  fong,"  flie  fcrcam'd  ; — the  min- 

ftrel's  came 

The  theme  was  glorious  war,  the  dear  delight 
Of  mining  bcft  in  field,  and  daring  moil  in  fight. 

"  Joy  to  the  foul,"  the  harpers  fung 

"   When  embattl'd  ranks  among, 

"  The  fteel-clad  knight,  in  vigour's  bloom, 

"  (Banners  waving  o'er  his  plume) 

"  Foremoft  rides,  the  flower  and  boaft 

«  Of  the  bold  determin'd  hoft  !" 
With  greedy  ears  the  gueils  each  note  devour'd, 
Each  Itruck  his  beaver  down,  and  grafp'd  his  faith 
ful  fword. 

The  fury  mark'd  th'  aufpicious  deed, 
And  bade  the  fcalds  proceed. 

"  Joy  to  the  foul !  a  joy  divine ! 

"  When  conflicting  armies  join ; 

"  When  trumpets  clang,  and  bugles  found ; 

"  When  ftrokes  of  death  are  dealt  around  ; 

"  When  thefwordfeafts,  yet  craves  for  more  ; 

"  And  every  gauntlet  drips  with  gore.'' 
The  charm  prevailed, up  rufh'd  the  madden'd  throng, 
Panting  for  carnage,  as  they  foam'd  along, 
Fierce  Odin's  felf  led  forth  the  frantic  band, 
To  fcatter  havock  o'er  many  a  guilty  land. 

MADNESS. 

SWELI.  the  clarion,  fvveep  the  firing, 
Blow  into  rage  the  mufe's  fires ! 
All  thy  a'nfwers,  echo,  bring, 
Let  wood  and  dale,  let  rock  and  valley  ring, 
'Tis  madnefs'  felf  infpires. 

Hail,  awful  madnefs,  hail ! 

Thy  realm  extends,  thy  powers  prevail, 
Far  as  the  voyager  fpreads  his  'ventrous  fail. 

Nor  beft  nor  wifeft  are  exempt  from  thee  j 

Folly — folly's  only  free. 

Hark! — To  the  aftonifh'd  ear 
The  gale  conveys  a  ftrange  tumultuous  found, 
They  now  approach,  they  now  appear,— 

Phrenzy  leads  her  chorus  near. 

And  demon's  dance  around.— 


POEMS. 


615 


Pride— Ambition  idly  vain, 
Revenge,  and  malice  fwell  her  train,— 

Devotion  warp'd — Affection  croft — 

Hope  in  difappointment  loft — 
And  injur'd  merit,  with  a  downcnft  eye 
(Hurt  by  neglect)  flow  ftalking  hcedLfs  by. 

Loud  the  fhouts  of  madncfs  rife, 
Various  voices,  various  cries, 
Mirth  unmeaning — caufelefs  moans, 
Burfts  of  laughter — heart-felt  groans- 
All  feem  to  pierce  the  fkies.— 

Rough  as  the  wint'ry  wave,  that  roars 
On  Thule's  defert  fhores, 
Wild  raving  to  the  unfeeling  air, 
The  fetter'd  maniac  foams  along, 
(Rage  the  burden  of  his  jarring  fong) 
In  rage  he  grinds  his  teeth,  and  rends  his  ftream- 
ing  hair. 

No  pleafing  memory  left — forgotten  quite 
All  former  fcenes  of  dear  delight, 
Connubial  love — parental  joy- 
No  fympathies  like  thefe  his  foul  employ, 

But  all  is  dark  within,  all  furious  black  de- 
fpair. 

Not  fo  the  love-lorn  maid, 
By  too  much  tendernefs  betray'd  ; 
Her  gentle  breaft  no  angry  paflion  fires, 
But  flighted  vows  pofiefs,  and  fainting,  foft  de- 
fires. 

She  yet  retains  her  wonted  flame, 
All— but  in  reafon,  ftill  the  fame.— 
Streaming  eyes, 
Inceflant  fighs, 

Dim  haggard  looks,  and  clouded  o'er  with  care, 
Point  out  to  pity's  tears,  the  poor  diftracted  fair. 
Dead  to  the  world — here  fondeft  wifhes  cioft, 
She  mourns  herfelf  thus  early  loft. — 

Now,  fadly  gay,  of  forrows  paft  fhe  fings, 
Now,  penfive,  ruminates  unutterable  things. 
She  ftarts — fhe  flies — who  dares  fo  rude 
On  her  fequefter'd  fteps  intrude  ? — 
Tis  he — the  Momus  of  the  flighty  train- 
Merry  mifchief  fills  his  brain. 
Bhnket-rob'd,  and  antic  crown'd, 
The  mimic  monarch  fkips  around  ? 
Big  with  conceit  of  dignity  he  fmiles, 
And  plots  his  frolics  quaint,  and  uniufpected 
wiles. — 

Laughter  was  there — but  mark  that  groan, 

Drawn  from  my  inmoft  foul ! 
"  Give  the  knife,  Demons,  or  the  poifon'd  bowl, 
"  To  finifh  miferies  equal  to  your  own." — < 

Who's  this  wretch,  with  horror  wjld  !— - 
^'Tis  devotion's  ruin'd  child.— 
Sunk  in  the  emphafis  of  grief, 
Nor  can  he  feel,  nor  dares  he  aflc  relief.— 

Thou,  fair  religion,  waft  defign'd, 
Duteous  daughter  of  the  Ikies, 
To  warm  and  cheer  the  human  mind, 
To  make  men  happy,  good,  and  wife.. 

TO  point  where  fits,  in  love  array'd, 
Attentive  to  each  fuppliant  call, 
The  God  of  univerfal  aid, 
The  God,  the  Father  of  us  all. 


Firfl   fhown    by  thee,  thus  glow'd  the  gracious 
fcene, 

'Till  fuperftition,  fiend  of  woe, 

Bade  doubts  to  rife,  and  tears  to  flow,  [tween. 
And  fpread  deep  {hades  our  view  and  heaven  be- 

Drawn  by  her  pencil  the  Creator  ftands, 

(His  beams  of  mercy  thrown  afide) 

With  thunder  arming  his  uplifted  hands, 

And  hurling  vengeance  wide. 
Hope,  at  the  frown  aghaft,  yet  ling'ring,  flies, 
And  dafh'd  on  terror's  rocks,  faith's  beft  depend 
ence  lies. 

But  ah ! — too  thick  they  crowd, — too  clofe  they 
throng, 

ObjeiSts  of  pity  and  affright ! — 
Spare  farther  the  defcriptive  fong — 

Nature  fliudders  at  the  fight.— »• 

Protract  not,  curious  cars,  the  mournful  tale, 
But  o'er  the  haplefs  group,  low  drop  campafllon's 
veil.     , 

ADDRESS 

TO  THE   GENIUS  OF  BRITAIN. 

COME,  genial  fpirit,  to  the  earrieft  call 
Of  the  true  patriot !  wherefoe'er  thou  art, 
O  !  mark  the  fummons  !  whether  airy  borne 
In  hafty  progrefs,  pleas'd  thou  fkimm'ft  the  edge 
Of  the  white  bulwark;  from  the  fteepy  height 
Kenning  the  azure  wave,  thy  own  domain; 
While  on  the  pebbled  fhore,  fcarce  heard  fo  high, 
The  furff  breaks  foaming.     In  the  diflant  view 
Full. frequent  pafs  the  womby  labourers 
Of  commerce,  or  the  gaily  floating  pride 
Of  naval  armament. — Or  whether  deep 
In  midland  occupation  glad  thou  feeft 
The  various  labours  of  the  cheerful  loom ; 
Or  agriculture  whiftling  at  the  plough. 
Whether  the  anvil-notes  engage  thy  (lay, 
(Though  diffonant,  yet  mufic  to  the  ear 
Of  him  who  knows  his  country)  ;  or  the  hum 
Of  the  thick  crowded  burfe  ; — come  and  attend 
To  Britain's  general  good  1  'Tis  not  the  fliout, 
The  din  of  clamour,  drunk  with  factious  rage, 
That  hails  thec ;  nor  the  well  diflembling  tongue 
Of  maflc'd  fedition,  whofe  envenom'd  rant 
Urges  the  crowd  to  madnefs. — Not  to  thefe 
Lift  hecdful.< — 'Tis  the  cool  perfuafive  voice 
Of  reafon  woos. — Quick  then  with  brightcft  fmilci 
Of  mild  humanity  adorn  thy  cheek  : 
Straight  o'er  the  Atlantic  furge,  with  anxious  hafle, 
Seek  out  thy  penfive  daughter ;— once  as  dear 
And  clofely  twining  round  thy  milky  breaft, 
As  was  Augufta's  felf.— Yet  now  eitrang'd— 
Unhappily  ellrang'd !  O  by  the  hand 
Take  the  fair  mourner ;  from  her  tearful  eye 
Wipe  the  dim  cloud  of  forrow  ;— to  the  throne 
Prefent  her  reconciling. — "i'is  a  boon, 
Moft  glorious  boon,  that  too  our  latcil  fons 
Will  render  thy  foft  influence  doubly  dear. 
Look  back,  unmov'd  by  prejudice,  look  back 
To  memory's  mirrour.  Pictur'd  there  we  lee 
The  happy  times  of  concord ;  when  the  arm 
Of  manufacture  ply'd  the  bufy  tafk 
In  various  employment : — through  the  eye 
Beam'd  checrmlnefs,  while  all  around  her  fona 
Glad  induftry  pour'd  forth  from  plenty's  horn 
Abundant  wealth  :  hence  to  the  crowded  port 
Qjl  iiij 


THE   WORKS   OF   PENROSE. 


Pafs,  thought,  and  mark  the  arts  of  commerce  P.ore 
The  fpacioiis  hold ;  light  ran  the  toilfome  day, 
.Cheer'd  by  the  hop=  of  the  honeft  recompence. 
The  bark  unmoor'd,  fee  how  the  feilive  crew 
XJrg'd  on  her  fpeedy  couife  ;  not  fad  to  quit 
Their  native  foil,  for  in  thofe  happier  days, 
America'  was  home.     There  on  the  fhore 
Stood  expectation,  friendly  by  her  fide 
Smil'd  hofpitality,  with  open  bread, 
.Pleis'd  t'o  receive  the  fea-beat  traveller : 

•I'd,  enrich'd  that  traveller  return'd 
Bleiiing  h'u  double  country. — Thefe  thy  fweats, 
•Frateriidl  intercourfe  !  But  ah  !  how  chang' J, 
How  fadly  chang'd  is  now  the  prefent  fcenc, 
Pregnant  \vith  future  griefs !  Iti  fullen  ftatc 
Beneath  the  .gloomy  roofs  dull  filence  reigns, 
Which  erft  ia  better  times,  refoundcd  quick 
With/  ilrokes  of  active  bufinels:  at  the  forge, 
Jixtinci,  iu  penfive  poverty  the  fmith 
Befponding  leans,  incapable  to  earn 
The  morrow's  morfel,  while  with  craving  eye 
Look  up  the  wile  and  chijd,  but  look  in  vain, 
Faint  wi/h  despair. — O'er  the  dcferted  loom 
The  fpider  forms  her  web,  poor  evidence 
Of  human  floth  or  want. — Fain  would  the  mufe 
Supprels  the  mournful  truth  ;  yet  lorc'd  to  tell, 
She"  weeps  while  fhe  relates — How  are  they  fall'n, 
'The  Ions  of  labour,  from  their  profp'rous  ftatc 
Degraded!   How;  alas  !  the  crowded  jail 
Swarms  with  inhabitants,  that  once  had  hope 
Of  fairer  evenings  to  their  toilfome  morn  ! 
Filijd  is  each  cell  of  forrow  and  of  pain 
"With  daily  victims  : — debtors  part,  entomb'd 
While  living,  and  conderr.rAl  to  linger  on 
To  life's  lail  ebb,  unpity'd,  unreliev'd: 
Part  felons,  ftamp'd  the  foes  of  focial  life 
By  penury's  rough  hand,  and  driven  to  roam 
The  fpoilcrs  of  the  wealthy  — To  dillrefs 
Abandon'd,  fcarce  the  ruin'd  mind  perceives 
Its  own  peculiar  forrows ;  but  finks  down 
The  creditor's  fix'd  prey — or  to  the  law 
Submits  the  needful  facrifice. — Sad  fate        [beaft, 
Of  thofe  whom  Heav'n  defign'd  their  country's 
The  artizans  of  fkill. — NCI  on  the  banks 
Of  venerable  Themes  does  woe  prefide 
L,efs  perilous  ; — Thames,  the  prolific  fire 
Of  Britain's  wealth  :  along  his  winding  fhores, 
"Unoccupy'd,  moor'd  to  dellrucYve  floth, 
"Whole  fleets  lie  perifhing,  a  foreft,  true, 
But  flill  a  blafted  foreft:  gloomy  ftalks 
The  unfhipp'd  mariner,  and  meditates 
On  foreign  fervice.-—  Should  fome  child  of  hope, 
.Lur'd  by  the  pleafing  retrofpe&  once  more    • 
Spread  his  broad  fail  acrofs  the' well-known  fea  ; 
Should  he,  amidft  the  wonders  of  the  deep, 
Give  way  to  fancy's  dream,  and  fondly  trufb 
To  meet  his  wonted  greeting :  how  recoils 
The  vifionary  voyage!- Not  on  the  beach 
Sit  waiting  love  and  amity  to  grafp 
His  hand,  and  lead  him  to  their  open  bower. 
No  thronging  crowds  his  pioffer'd  mart  attend 
With  various  traffic  : — fled— affrighted— fled, 
Are  all  the  little  deities,  that  once 
Kind,  o'er  the  focial  and  commercial  board    fpear 
Hung  hovering :  in  their  room,  fad  change  !  ap- 
fitern  refolution,  ftoic  ftubbornnefs, 
And  independence ; — in  his  hand  each  holds 
His  weapon,  jealous  of.  the  p affing  breeze,   , 


And  deaf  to  ancient  fiiendfhip.-— Tn  thispaufe, 
This  fulemn  paufe,  that  halts  'tween  peace  and 
war. 

0  fly,  blelt  fpirit,  in  the  royal  ear 

Whit'per  forgivenefs; — 'inidtt  the  high  behelts 
Of  juftice,  let  our  ever-gracious  fire 
Forget  not  mercy  ;— «-'tis  the  brighteft  gem 
That  decks  the  monarch's  crown :  nor  thou,  great 

Qeorge, 

Difdain  the  mufc's  prayer  ;  mofl  loyal  fhe 
In  mild  fubjedlion  down  the  tide  ciTifs, 
Steer  her  hgLt  fluff. — Urg'd  by  the  plaintive  call 
Of  meek  humanity,  O  !   pardon,  now 
If  warm  ihe  pleads  her  caut'e.— The  1'avage  race, 
That  prowl  the  defert,  or  that  r;!iige  the  wood. 
Are  won  to  tamenefs  by  the  attentive  care 
Of  the  kind  gentle  keeper.— Shame  not  man, 
Nor  fay  his  heart's  more  fell. — Tis  ealier  far 
To  footh  by  tenderness,  than  awe  by  pow'r. 
Quit  then  the  bloody  purpofe,  nor  perfift 
To  conquer,  when  the  rieid  is  ia:rer  gain'd 
By  reconciling. — To  the  ungrateful  toil 
Commilfion'd,  fhuddering  beats  the  iokiier's  heart. 
Not  fo,  when  from  the  plough  in  eager  halte, 
Rous'd  by  the  call  to  arms,  the  fhouting  bands 
Rufh'd  emulous,  reluclant  none,  nor  held 
By  loves  qr  home  , — each  burning  to  fupply 
The  watte  of  wai,  and  anxious  to  advance 
The  common  glory. — Spiiitlcfs  now  ar,J  fad 
Embark  the  deiliu'd  troops :  the  veteran  brave, 
That  dauntlefs  bore  the  variegated  woes 
Of  long- protracted  war  : — the  veteran  brave, 
That  won  on  many  a  plain  the  bloody  ^rJm 
Of  victory,  amidlt  the  dying  groans 

01  flaughter'd  thoufauds  firmly  undifmay'd  , 
Now  hangs  in  tender  thought  his  honeft  fruntj 
Averfe  to  flay  his  brother :— at  the  word, 
(A.wful,  yetfacred  to  his  patient  ear) 

He  lifts  indeed  the  fteel,  while  down  his  ch«ek 
The  big  drop   flows,    nor  more   he  dreads  the 

wound 

That  bores  his  vitals,  than  the  ftroke  he  give?. 
Say,  therefore,  "  Sword,  be   fheath'd," — fair  in 

'the  (ky 

Nowcloudy,  then  the  dawn  of  joy  will  fpread 
Its  warm  reviving  ray — ami  every  eye 
That's  mifty  now  with  forrow,  will  grpw  bright, 
And  fmile  away  its  tears:  the  funny  beam 
Of  mild  returning  confidence  will  cheer 
The  kindred  countries  : — Commerce,  on  her  couch 
Now  drooping  wounded,  then  will  rear  her  head, 
Charm'd  into  health  ; — and  from  her  various  iloie 
Will  cull  the  fweeteft  flowers,  and  form  a  wreath 
To  down  the  temples  of  her  patriot  king. 

ESSAY 

ON  THE  CONTRARIETIES  OF  PUBLIC  VIRTUE, 

SOCIETY,  like  thong  of  leather, 
Faft  binds  in  cluilers  men  together  j 
And  though  it  cannot  be  forgotten, 
That  fome  are  ripe,  and  fome  are  rotten, 
Yet  let  it  ftill  be  underftood, 
They  all  promote  the  general  good. 
For  this  the  patriot's  fire  arifes, 
That  glows  at  every  trying  crifi$. 


POEMS. 


With  each  inferior  ftrife  and  ftir  too. 
Whence  fpring  they  ?  but  from  public  virtue. 
Though  different  plan?,  like  ftreams,  'tis  true, 
By  different  rills  their  courfe  purfue  ; 
Though  oft  they  feein,  to  mortals  blind, 
Repugnant  to  the  end  delign'd, 
Appearing,  as  by  error  led, 
To  flow  through  many  a  inazy  bed ; 
Yet  ftill  at  length  we  fee  them  glide, 
Meand'ring  to  the  common  tide. 

Smile  on,  ye  grave,  in  deep  derifion, 
I  ftirink  not  from  my  propofition, 
But  ftill  aver  all  Britons  merit 
The  praife  of  patriotic  fpirit ; 
As  far  as  e'er  their  power  can  reach, 
From  N —  descending  down  to  Ketch. 
That  ftatefrnen  guard  the  public  weal, 
We  all  muft  own,  for  all  muft  feel : 
'Tis  thejr's  to  watch  with  ardour  keen, 
And  careful  drive  the  grand  machine  ; 
To  charm  the  paffengers  from  fretting, 
And  keep  the  whole  from  overfetting. 
But  ftill  inferior  hands  may  bring 
Some  little  help, — may  oil  a  fpring, — 
May  point, — "  There,  round  that  corner  turn  ye," 
And  wifh  the  folks  a  plcafant  journey. 

All  have  their  ufe,  their's  nothing  plainer, 
From  this  each  traveller's  a  gainer  ; 
And,  though  the  merits  be  but  few, 
Let's  give  to  ev'ry  imp  his  due. 
This  focial  fire  though  all  poffefs, 
In  fome  there's  nothing  blazes  lefs ; 
So  many  a  clofe  attempt  is  made, 
O'er  the  bright  flame  to  hold  a  fhade, 
To  keep  their  worth  from  being  known, 
While  confcience  hugs  itfelf  alone: 
As  fome  of  alms  will  never  boaft, 
And  look  leaft  pleas'd  when  giving  moft. 

But  cynics,  fpare  the  odd  behaviour, 
If  well  you  walk,  ne'er  blame  the  pavior. 
Should  you,  when  wand'ring  in  the  night, 
Some  fcoundrel  urge  to  fet  you  right. 
Now,  though  he  blafts  you  with  a  curfe» 
You'll  take  the  better  for  the  worfe, 
Nor  think  the  greeting  ill  beftow'd, 
If  while  he  damns,  he  fiiows  the  road  ; 
But  ftraight  jog  home,  no  more  affrighted, 
Than  if  an  honeft  watchman  lighted. 

Learn  then  the  belt  to  cull  from  evil, 
As  faints  take  warning  by  the  devil, 
And, — if  the  mule,  whole  judgment  nice  is, 
Shows  public  good  in  private  vjces, 
The  holieft  tongue  mult  ceafe  to  ftir, 
But  inftant  own  without  demur, 
While  modeft  matrons  ftart  at  Drury, 
The  thief's  as  uleful  as  the  jury, 
Since  both  the  mind  ftrong  truths  imprefson, 
And  teach  the  world  an  awful  leffon. 
Our  various  patriots  then  revere, 
Their  hearts  are  found,  though  manners  queer : 
Though  fome  |.o  outward  vilion  teem 
To  fport  in  frenzy's  antic  dream, 
The  aims  of  each  laborious  elf  are, 
Intended  for  the  public  welfare. 
This  glorious  end  alone  purfuing, 
They,  bold  like  Curtius  laugh  at  ruin  ; 
For  this,  if  we  their  fchemes  unravel, 
They  drink,  whore,  mortgage,  game,  and  travel 


Enthuriaft  in  the  paths  of  fcience, 
anks  bade  the  Itormy  waves  defiance ; 
air  nature's  volume  to  explore, 

e  *  fought  with  leas  unfail'd  before, 
Ind  earn'd,  by  Argonautic  toil, 
refli  honours  for  his  native  foil : 
iim  wil'dom  lov'd,  thus  worthy  found, 

nd  Britain  hail'd  him  as  ihe  crown'd. 

But  lay — "  Can  one  advent'rers  claim 

Exhauit  the  trumpet's  voice  of  fame  ? 

No  garland  has  my  country  now, 

To  bind  another  pilgrim's  brow  ? 

Be  mine  the  merit," — Florio  cries, 
And  crofs  the  Channel  gaily  flies ; 
Through  thick  and  thin,  drives  mad  ani  giddy  ofo 

^ow  here,  now  there,  now  in  meridian, 
Unhfr,  perchance,  when  Louis  fail), 
A  meteor — with  a  fiery  tail. 
Think  you  his  aim  in  each  manoeuvre, 
s  but  to  fcare  tb'  aftoniih'd  Louvre? 
Ah  no  ! — in  all  the  diffipation 
le  loves  the  int'reft  of  his  nation, 
And,  mindful  of  the  patriot  rule, 
ror  our  inftruCtion— plays  the  fool. 

Connubial  faith, — th'  unbroken  vow,— i 
low  bleft  1  Who  dares  to  difallow  ? 
^othario  Itrong  in  this  agrees. 
And — urges  every  wife  he  fees; 
Sure — if  the  attack  ihould  fail  upon  her, 
The  lex  is  happy  in  her  honour, — 
And, — if  his  Itratagems  furprife  her, 
Her  fall  may  make  th'  unfteady  wifer. 
The  hufband  from  his  doze  may  ftart, 
And,  though. he  longdifdain'd  her  heart. 
May  look  the  thief  with  vifage  fierce  on, 
Who  dar'd  defile  the  flighted  perfon. 
"  Draw — draw  to  fet  the  matter  right,"—- 
But  is  Lothario  wrong  to  fight  ? 
No,-s-public  virtue  fwells  his  veins, 
Whoever  falls,^— his  country  gains : 
This  none  can  doubt,  your  feelings  a{k  all ; 
For  'tis  a  gain  to  lofe  a  rafcal. 

When  trade  unclojrg'd  can  turn  its  wheels 
The  influence  kind  the  kingdom  feels; 
Each  hand,  in  fit  degree  and  meafure, 
Contributes  to  the  public  treafure. 
Thefe  truths  Northumberland  convince, 

Who  lives  in  juft  magnificence. 

And, — uhi'e  his  bounty  wide  diftils, 

For  England's  welfare — -pays  his  bills. 
But  different  notions  Cotta  ftrike, 

For  why  lhauld  patriots  judge  alike? 

It  fliocks  his  greatnei's  to  defcribe 

How  peafants  gall  the  courtier's  kibe, 

An  upftart  race,  that  no  one  knows, 

Who  yet  have  folly  to  fuppofe, 

That  honeft  wealth  is  better  far 

Than  guilt  and  want  beneath  a  ftar, 

"  Let  every  man  preferve  his  ftation : 

"  What's  rule  without  fubordination  ?*' 

Till  wil'er  heads  confefs  the  flaw, 

And  plan  a  fumptuary  law, 

Impatient  fome  redrefs  to  get, 

See  Cotta  plunges  into  debt. 


*  "  With  fitch  mad feasth.e daringGama fought.''- 

Tbonfin, 


THE   WORKS   OF   PENROSE. 


(From  bailiffs  fafe)— and  much  commends 

This  practice  to  his  hungry  friends; 

So  war  is  wag'd  with  every  trader, 

Dear  honour  !  left  the  rogues  degrade  her  •• 

And  what  contrivance  is  more  fure 

To  humble, — than  to  keep  them  poor  ? 

When  in  contention  (harp  of  old, 
As  legendary  rales  unfold, 
Two  *  rival  deities  defign'd 
Their  choiceft  prefents  to  mankind, 
With  envy  kindling, — warm  enforcer  ! 
This  gave  an  olive,  that  a  courfer. 

Thus  fome, — as  other  plans  have  mift  'em, 
Revere  the  vegetable  fyftem, 
And  think  their  virtue  grounded  furc 
Ingrowth  of  timber,  arid — manure. 
Hence  up  the  flope  plantations  fpread, 
Arid  crown  the  hill's  once  dreary  head  ; 
Hence,  downward  as  the  vale  defcends, 
The  harveft  ocean  wide  extends ; 
Glad  Britain — how  thefe  profpects  charm  her  ! 
Her  medal  f  decks  the  patriot  farmer, 
Who  counts  his  flock,— and  hopes  he's  fhown, 
His  country's  riches  in  his  own. 
Not  fo  the  'fquire  of  boift'rous  fpirit, 
Who,  ftudious  of  equeftrian  merit, 
To  thrifty  care  makes  no  pretences, 
But  fconrs  the  fields,  and  breaks  the  fences. 
Vain  may  the  tenant  urge  his  fpeeches, 
New  till  the  foil,  and  mend  the  breaches, 
Yet  no  reftraint  his  landlord  clogs;— 
Devoted  as  a  prey  to  dogs, 
He  hates  ignoble  frugal  ways, 
And — wild  in  the  career  of  praife, 
Cries,  as  he  fpurs  his  foaming  fteed  5 
*'  To  me  Old  England  owes  the  breed." 

Do  various  loads  the  nation  prefs? 
*Tis  noble  fure  to  make  them  lefs : 
This  Vigil  does,  and  labours  hard 
To  cog  the  die,  or  palm  the  card  : 
Profufe  in  packs,  as  round  they  lie, 
He  often  turns  th'  applauding  eye  ; — 
-  And, — though  he  cheats,  thinks  nothing  of  it, 
Since  his  dear  country  fliares  the  profit. 
Keen  cenfure  then  her  frown  relaxes, 
Without  confumption  what  are  taxes? 

Taxes  !  But  "  why,"  Therfites  growls, 
'*  Muft  every  bird  be  ftripp'd  by  owls  ? 
"  Shall  two  or  three,  in  pamper'd  eafe, 
"  Lay  contributions  as  they  pleafe, 
"  While  all  the  reft,  in  ftation  humble, 
"  Tame  bear  the  lofs, — nor  dare  to  grumble  ?" 
Peace  fnarler, — Know,  with  fteady  foul 
The  patriot  can  applaud  the  whole  ; 
And  juftly  crowns  with  equal  praife 
The  man  who  levies,  and  who  pays. 

'Tis  true  the  dodlor  of  finances 
By  noftrums  oft  his  fund  enhances  : 
But  then  his  fkill  in  phyfic's  great, 
He  knows  the  ailments  of  the  (late, 
Intent,  as  fuits  the  fan  difafter, 
To  cup,  prick,  purge,  or  fpread  a  plafter. 
A  plethora's  now  the  cafe,  there's  needing 
Strict  regimen,  and  copious  bleeding. 

*  Minerva  and  Neptune. 
t  Medals  given  by  the  Society  fa  the 
raging  4rti  end  Sciences. 


He  therefore  acts  the  fubject  beft, 
Who  fcorns  the  ordtr  to  conteft; 
But  claps  a  calm  contented  face  on. 
And  yields  the  moft  to  fill  the  baton. 

To  give  his  part,  through  various  ftages 
The  manufacturer  engages ; 
And  thinks  there's  mt-rit  at  his  door, 
Whofe  bufinefs  feeds  the  lab'ring  poor, 
While  to  the  keen  excifeman's  eyes 
Accumulating  duties  rife. 

"  Curfe  on  the  drudge's  dirty  toil," 
Exclaims  my  haughty  lord  of  foil, 
(Though  oft  his  title-deeds  may  reft 
Safe  in  the  us'rers  iron  cheft)  ; 
''  Unpaid  let  other  calls  remain, 
"  I'll  ftill  uphold  my  menial  train; 
"  Economy  ! — 'tis  bafe  to  court  her, 
"  Each  *  footman  is  a  ftate  fupporter, 
".  To  baulk  the  caufe  a  coward's  fin  is, 
"  I'll  bravely  pay  the  hundred  guineas." 

Deep  Eibo  foaks,  and  boafts  the  reafon, 
"  Wine's  the  beft  antidote  to  treafon, 
"  Our  bumpers  large  revenues  bring, 
"  I  drink  my  claret  for  my  king," 
Yet  ftill  his  zeal  by  far  furpafles, 
Who  empties  firft,  then  breaks  the  glaflesf. 

How  Fungus  glows  with  patriot  pride ; 
While  credit  pours  an  even  tide  ! 
Thus  buoy'd  along,  through  fairjtfcenes, 
He  clubs  his  fliare  to  ways  and  means; 
At  length  the  dun's  inceffant  clamour 
Dooms  every  chattel  to  the  hammer; 
Still  there's  decorum  in  his  fall, 
Since  now  the  J  auclion  clofes  all. 

Smile,  Walpole's  ghoft,  untaught  to  feign, 
For  private  folly's  public  gain : 
And  bid  old  Cecil  fmooth  his  brow, — 
If  England  thrives, — no  matter  how. 

Vefpafian  thus,  the  bee  of  money. 
From  every  weed  could  gather  honey: 
Though  fqueamifh  Titus  leer'd  and  laugh'd, 
The  wifer  father  bleft  the  craft, 
And,  when  his  bags  the  cafti  was  fure  in, 
Ne'er  thought  the  tribute  fmelt  of  urine. 

THE  JUSTICE: 

A  CANTATA. 
RECITATIVE. 

COMPOS'D,  the  juftice  fat  in  eafy  ftate, 

A  crowd  aflembling,  thunder'd  at  the  gate  : 

The  porter,  to  his  poft  accuftom'd  long, 

Firft  afk'd  the  caufe,  then  introduc'd  the  throng: 

'Midft  thefe,  a  fire,  enrag'd,  two  culprits  brought, 

Her  iwelling  waift   proclaim'd  the  damfel's  fault; 

The  young  feducer  look'cl  abafii'd  and  pale. 

While  thus  the  father  urg'd  his  angry  tale: 

SONG. 
See  that  wretch,  bafe  ends  purfuing, 

Low  has  brought  my  child  to  fhame— 
Se$  in  her  my  honour's  ruin, 

Death  of  honour,  death  of  fame  I 

Well  to  match  her  ripening  beauty 
Oft  I'veform'd  the  fondeft  fchemes; 

*  New  tax  onferi-ants. 
f  Ne~M  tax  on  glafs  wares* 
1       t  Ditto 


POEMS. 


619 


But  this  fall,  this  breach  «f  duty, 
Turns  my  hopes  to  idle  dreams.— 

Curfe  the  traitor's  late  repenting— 

Vengeance,  vengeance  I  demand- 
War  recruits  is  ever  wanting— 
Let  him  die  on  foreign  land. 

RECITATIVE. 

He  paus'd — for  rage  his  fault'ring  voice  oppreft — 
The  magitlrate  the  trembling  youth  addreft, 
Difpell'd  his  terrors  with  a  rifing  fmile— 
And  thus  the  youth  began  in  artlcfs  ftylc  : 

SONG. 

If  the  laws  I  have  offended, 

Here  for  pardon  let  me  fue  : 
'Twas  a  crime  I  ne'er  intended, 

Love's  the  only  crime  I  knew. 

Love  I  plead  (be  this  prevailing), 

Love  early  youth  begun  ;— 
We  had  never  known  this  failing, 

Had  yon  tyrant  made  us  one. 

On  our  knees  we  oft  have  pray'd  him, 
Oft  have  own'd  our  mutual  flame  : 

Wretched,  therefore,  if  we've  made  him, 
On  himfelf  mud  reft  the  blame. 

«  RECITATIVE. 

He  fpoke,  and  on  his  partner  turn'd  his  eye, 
Who  deep  encrirafon'd  made  thisfhort  reply: 

AIR. 

Gracious  Sir,  this  faithful  youth 
Well  has  fpoke  the  voice  of  truth, 
Kind  difpenfer  of  the  laws, 
Show  compaHion  to  eur  caufe — 
Hear  me  on  my  bended  knee- 
Spare  his  life,  and  pity  me. 

RECITATIVE- 

The  judge  not  long  in  ufelefs  filence  fate. 

Eut  inftant  rofe,  and  thus  announc'd  their  fate  : 

AIR. 

Relentlefs  parent,  fince  to  me 
Is  now  referr'd  the  laft  decree, 
Mark  and  obferve  my  juft  command,— 
I  doom  him  not  to  foreign  land, 
But  to  a  lentence  mild  and  kind— 
Be  both  at  Hymen's  altar  join'd ; 
And  may  their  paffion  ne'er  decay, 
Till  ebbing  life  fliall  fink  away. 

RECITATIVE. 

The  lift'ning  crowd  the  fair  award  approv'd, 
The  youth  they  favour'd,  and  the  maid  they  lov'd. 
While  thanks  and  praifes  did   their  thanks  em 
ploy, 
They  thus  in  chorus  teftified  their  joy. 

CHORUS. 
Happy  pair,  who  thus  have  found 

Friendship,  when  you  fear'd  a  foe  ! 
While  the  year  revolves  around, 

May  your  blils  revolving  flow  ! 

Parents,  to  your  children's'pleafure, 
Ee  your  clofe  attention  paid  ; 


Nor  for  titles,  pomp,  or  treaftire, 
Cut  the  knot  that  love  has  made. 

And  to  thee,  thou  judge  of  peace, 

Our  belt  gratitude  is  due; 
May  each  couple  love  like  thefe— 

Aluy  each  juftice  act  like  you  ! 

THE  HERMIT'S  VISION.1 

MILDLY  beam'd  the  queen  of  night, 
Sailing  through  the  gay  ferene  : 

Silver'd  by  her  modeft  light,       ' 

But  faintly  fhone  the  folitary  fcene, 
With  deep'ning   fhadows   mixt,    aad    glitt'ring 
breaks  between. 

High  on  a  cliffy  fteep  o'erfpread 
With  many  an  oak,  whofe  ancient  head 
Did  in  its  neighbour's  top  itfelf  inwreath, 
And  caft  an  umbered  gloom  and  folemn  awe  be« 
neath. 

High  on  a  cliffy  fteep  a  hermit  fat, 
Weighing  on  his  weaned  mind 
The  various  turns  ot  mortal  fate. 
The  various  woes  of  human  kind  ; 
Meek  pity's  pearl  oft  ftarted  in  his  eye. 
And  many  a  prayer  he  pour'd,  and  heav'd  a  fre 
quent  figh. 

Silent  was  all  aronnd, 
Save  when  the  fwelling  breeze 
Convey'd  the  half-expiring  found 
Of  diftaut  waterfalls,  and  gently- waving  trees. 

No  tinkling  folds,  no  curfew's  parting  knell 

Struck  the  fequelter'd  anchoret's  ear; 
Remote  from  men  he  fcoop'd  his  narrow  cell. 
For  much  he  had  endur'd,  no  more  he  look'd  to 
fear. 

But  (till,  the  world's  dark  tempefts  paft, 
What  though  his  fkitF  was  drawn  to  more, 
And  Ihelter'd  in  retirement  faft, 
Yet  oft  his  voyage  he'd  ponder  o'er  ; 
Oft  in  reflection  life's  rough  ocean  view, 
How  mount  the  ftormy  waves.how  hard  to  ftruggle 
through  ! 

Before  his  fage  revolving  eyes 
Various  phantoms  feem'd  to  rife, 
Now  retreat,  and  now  advance, 
And  mazy  twine  the  myftic  dance. 

Joy  led  the  van,  in  rapture  wild, 
Thoughtlefs  of  the  dittant  day ; 
Sweet  complacence,  angel  mild, 
Hied  from  the  frantic  pageant  far  away; 
For  (he  was  wifdom's  favour'd  child, 
In  revelry  untaught  to  ftray. 

Joy  led  the  van — her  painted  veft, 
Flowing  to  th'  obfequious  wind, 

Hope  had  feiz'd,  with  flutt'ring  breaft, 
And  eager  tripp'd  behind. 

Gay  flie  ftepp'd,  till  bufy  fear 
Whifper'd  in  her  ftartled  ear 
"  How  many  a  cup  is  dafli'd  with  gall, 
"  How  roany  »n  evil  may  befal !" 


THE    WORKS    OF    PENROSE. 


Aghait  awhile  (he  heard  the  ruthful  for.g, 
Then  farter  feiz'd  the  robe,  and  hattier  danc'd 
alung. 

Clofe  love  follow'd  in  the  train, 
Love,  the  queen  of  pleating  pain  : 
Placid  now  in  dear  delight, 
Madd'ning  now  in  deep  affright, 
And  prying  keen  with  jaundic'tl  eye, 
Kerc'd  by  the  fting  of  hell-born  jealoufy. 

'Twixt  pride  and  luft  of  grandeur  led, 
Nest  ambition  rear'd  her  head, 
By  phrenzy  urg'd  o'er  every  bar  te  rife, 

And  feize  the  vifionary  prize  : 
Wild  as  (he  rufli'd,  fhe  fcorn'd  to  mark  the  ground, 
Yet  many  a  flip  (he  made,   aad  many  a  fall  flic 
found. 

Pale  as  the  waning  moon, 
With  tear-It ain'd  cheek  and  ftupid  gaze, 

Withering  before  life's  funny  noon, 
Grief  crept  along  iu  fad  amaze, 
By  many  a  ftroke  to  keeneft  mis'ry  brought, 
Now  in  a  fliower  diflblv'd,  now  loft  in  inward 
thought. 

As  the  roijs'd  tiger  gaunt  and  fell 
Kindles  into  cruel  rage, 
With  flalhing glare,  and  murd'rous  yell — 
Thus  anger  paft  th'  idea!  ftage, 
Too  fierce  for  woupds  or  groans  to  feel, 
Onward  flie  fprung,  and  fliook  the  bloody  fteel. 

While  far  behind,with  Glen  tpacear.d  flow, 

Rlalice  was  content  to  go, 

Patient  the  diftant  hour  to  wait, 
And  hide  with  courteous  fmiles  the  blacked  hate. 

Secret  long  her  wrath  (he'd  keep, 
,'TiIl  time  difarm'd  the  foe,  then  drove  her  poniard 

deep. 

To  malice  link'd,  as  near  allied, 
Envy  tnarch'd  with  baneful  lour ; 

Detraction  halted  by  her  fide, 
Upheld  by  faltehood's  feeble  pewer. — 

"  No  more ! — no  more  !"  the  holy  feer  exclaim'd, 

"  Paflions  wild,  unbroke,  untaru'd, 
"  Muft  fure  the  human  heart  o'erthrow, 
*'  And  plunge  in  all  the  energy  of  woe. 

"  Grant  then  the  boon,  all-gracious  heav'n, 
"  Let  reafon  ever  take  the  helsi ; 
*  Left,  by  unheeded  whirlwinds  driv'n, 
14  The  pinnace  frail  ibme  guit  may  overwhelm  ! 

"  Hang  out  the  friendly  lamp,  that  clear 
*  From  error's  peril  (lie  may  lately  fteer  ; 
''•  Till  death  ilrnll  bid  each  trial  ceafe, 
41  And  moor  the  (hatter'd  bark  in  peace  1" 

THE  FIELD  OF  BATTLE. 

FAINTLY  bray'd  the  battle's  roar 

Diftant  down  the  hollow  wind ; 
Panting  terror  fled  before, 

Wounds  and  death  were  left  behind. 

Tha  war-fiend  curs'd  the  funken  day, 
That  dheck'd  hie  fie/ce  purfuit  too  foon ; 


While,  fcarcely  lighting  to  the  prey, 
Low  hung,  and  loxir'd  the  bloody  moon. 

The  field,  fo  late  the  hero's  pride, 

Was  now  with  various  carnage  fpread; 

And  floated  with  a  crimfon  tide, 
That  drench'd  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

O'er  the  fad  fccns  of  drearieft  view, 

Abandon'd  all  to  horrors  wild, 
With  frantic  (tep  Maria  flew, 

Maria,  forrow's  early  child ; 

By  duty  led',  for  every  vein 

Was  warm'd  by  Hymen's  pureft  flame; 
With  Edgar  o'er  the  wiut'ry  main 

She,  lovely,  faithful,  wanderer,  came. 

For  well  (he  thought,  a  friend  fo  dear 
In  darkeft  hour>  might  joy  impart ; 

Her  warrior,  faint  with  toil,  might  cheer, 
Or  footh  her  bleeding  warrior's  fmart. 

Though  look'd  for  long — in  chill  affrigh^ 
(The  torrent  burfting  from  her  eye) 

She  heard  the  fignal  for  the  fight- 
While  her  foul  trembled  in  a  figh — 

She  heard,  and  clafp'd  him  to  her  breafr, 
Yet  fcarce  could  urge  th'  inglorious  ftay ; 

His  manly  heart  the  charm  confeft^--- 
Then  broke  the  charm, — and  rufh'd  away. 

Too  foon  in  few — but  deadly  words, 
Some  flying  ftraggler  breath'd  to  tell, 

That  in  the  foremo'it  ftrife  of  fwords 
The  young,  the  gallant  Edgar  fell. 

She  preft  to  hear — (lie  caught  the  tale — 
At  every  found  her  blood  congeal'd ;•• r. 

With  terror  bold— with  terror  pale, 
She  fprung  to  iearch  the  fatal  field. 

O'er  the  fad  fcene  in  dire  amaze 

She  went— with  courage  not  her  own- 
On  many  a  corpfe  fhe  caft  her  gaze--- 
And  turn'd  her  ear  to  many  a  groan. 

Drear  anguifh  urged  her  to  prefs 

Full  many  a  hand,  as  wild  flie  mourn'd  ;--, 
— Of  comfort  g'ad,  the  drear  carets 

The  damp,  chill,  dying  hand  return'd. 

Her  ghaftly  hope  was  well  nigh  fled — 
When  late  pale  Etlgar*s  form  fhe  found, 

Half-bury 'd  with  the  hoftile  dead, 
And  bor'd  with  many  a  grifly  wound. 

She  knew — flie  funk — the  night-bird  fcream'd., 
'. — The  moon  withdrew  her  troubled  light, 

And  left  the  fair, — though  fall'n  (he  feem'd— ^ 
To  worfe  than  death — and  deepeft  night. 

MORTALITY. 

'TWAS  the  deep  groan  of  death 
That  (truck  th'  affrighted  ear  ! 

The  momentary  breeze, — the  vital  breath 

Expiring  funk  ! — Let  friendship's  holy  tear- 
Embalm  her  dead,  as  low  he  lies. — 

To  weep  another's  late,  oft  teaches  to  be  vr'.fy' 


POEMS. 


621 


Wifdom !  fet  the  portal  wide,— 
Call  the  young,  and  call  the  vain, 
Hither  lure  prefuming  pride, 
With  hope  midrudlefs  at  her  fide, 
And  wealth,  that  chance  defies,  and  greedy  thirft 
of  gain. 

Call  the  group,  and  fix  the  eye, — 
Show  how  awful  'tis  to  die. — 
Show  the  portrait  in  the  dud  : — 
Youth  may  frown — the  picture's  jud,— 
And  though  each  nerve  relifts — yet  yield  at  length 
they  mud. 

Where's  the  vifage,  that  awhile 
Glow'd  with  glee  and  rofy  fmile  ? 
Trace  the  corpfe,— the  likenefs  feek — 

No  likenefs  will  you  own. 
Pale's  the  once  focial  cheek, 
And  wither'd  round  the  ghaftly  bone. 

Where  are  the  beamy  orbs  of  fight, 
The  windows  of  the  foul  ? 

No  more  with  vivid  ray  they  roll— 
Their  funs  are  fct  in  night. 

Where's  the  heart,  whofe  vital  power 
Beat  with  honed  rapture  high, — 

That  joy'd  in  many  a  friendly  hour. 
And  gave  to  mis'ry  many  a  figh  ? — 

Froze  to  a  ftone ! — And  froze  the  hand 
Whofe  grafp  affection  warm  convey'd; 

Whefe  bounty  fed  the  fuppliant  band. 
And  nouridVd  want  with  timely  aid. 

Ah !  what  remains  to  bring  relief, — 
To  filence  agonizing  grief,— 
To  footh  the  bread  in  tempeft  toft, 
That  thrillin?  wails  in  vain  the  dear  companion 
loft? 

'Tis  the  departed  worth,  though  fare 
To  gafh  the  wound,  yet  works  the  cure  :— 
'Tis  merit's  gift  alone  to  bloom 
O'er  the  dread  horrors  of  the^tomb ; 
To  dry  the  mourner's  pious  dream, 
And  foften  forrow  to  eiteem. 

Does  ambition  toil  to  raife 

Trophies  to  immortal  praife  ? 
Truft  not,  though  ftrong  her  paflions  burn, 
Trud  not  the  marble's  flattering  ftyle, 
—Though  art's  bed  (kill  engrave  the  urn — 
Time's  cank'ring  tooth  lhall  fret  the  pile.— 

FRIENDSHIP. 

DISTILL'D  amidft  the  gloom  of  night, 
Dark  hangs  the  dew-drop  on  the  thorn ; 

Till,  notic'd  by  approaching  light, 
It  glitters  in  the  fmile  of  morn. 

Morn  foon  retires,  her  feeble  pow'r 

The  fun  outbeams  with  genial  day, 
And  gently,  in  benignant  hour, 

Exhales  the  liquid  pearl  away. 

Thus  on  affliction's  fable  bed 

Deep  forrowi  rife  of  faddeft  hue ; 
Condenfing  round  the  mourner's  head, 

They  bathe  the  check  v»ith  chiljy  dew. 


Though  pity  {hows  her  dawn  from  heaven, 
When  kind  die  points  aflidancc  near; 

To  frienddnp's  fun  alone  'tis  given 
To  footh  and  dry  the  mourner's  tear. 

THE  CURATE. 

A  FRAGMENT. 

O'ER  the  pale  embers  of  a  dying  fire, 
His  little  lampe  fed  with  but  little  oile, 

The  curatf  fate  (for  fcantie  was  his  hire) 
And  ruminated  fad  the  morrowe's  toil. 

'Twas  Sunday's  eve,  meet  feafon  to  prepare 
The  dated  lectures  of  the  coming  tyde ; 

No  day  of  rede  to  him,— but  day  of  care, 

At  manic  a  church  to  preach  with  tedious  ride. 

Before  him  fprede  his  various  fermons  lay, 
Of  explanation  deepe,  and  £ige  advice ; 

The  harved  gained  from  manie  a  thoughtful  dayc, 
The  fruit  of  learninge,  bought  with  heavy  price. 

On  thefe  he  cad  a  fond  but  tearful  eye, 

A  while  he  paufed,  for  forrowe  dopped  histhrote, 

Arroufed  at  lengthe,  he  heaved  a  bitter  fighc, 
And  thus  complainde,  as  well  indeed  he  mote : 

"  Hard  is  the  fcholars  lot,  condemned  to  fail 
"  Unpatronized  o're  life's  tempeduous  wave ; 

"  Clouds  blind  his  fight ;  nor  blows  a  friendly  gale, 
"  To  waft  him  to  one  port— except  the  grave. 

"  Big  with  prefumptive  hope,  I  launch'd  my  keele, 
"  With   youthful  ardour,  and   bright  fcience 

"  fraughte ; 

"  Unanxious  of  the  pains  long  doom'd  to  feel, 
"  Unthinking  that  the  voyage  might  end  in 
"  noughte. 

"  Pleafed  on  the  fummer  fea  I  daunced  a  while, 
"  With  gay  companions,  and  with  views  as  fair; 

"  Outdripp'd  by  thefe,  I'm  left  to  humble  toil, 
"  My  fonded  hope  abandon'd  in  defpair.— 

"  Had  my  ambitious  mind  been  led  to  rife 
"  To  highed  flights,  to  Crofier  and  to  Pall, 

"  Scarce  could  1  mourn  the  miffinge  of  the  prize, 
"  For  foaringe  wifhes  well  deferve  their  fall. 

"  No  tow'ring  thoughts  like  thefe  engag'd  my 
"  bread,  [plan) 

"  I  hoped  (nor  blame,  ye  proud,  the  lowly 
l<  Some  little  cove,  fome  parfonage  of  red, 

"  The  fcheme  of  duty  fuited  to  the  man ; 

K  Where,  in  my  narrow  fphere  fecure,  at  eafe, 
"  From  vile  dependence  free,  I  might  remain, 

:<  The  guide  to  good,  the  counfellor  of  peace, 
"  The  friend,  die  fhepherd  of  the  village  fwain. 

;<  Yet  cruel  fate  denied  the  fmall  rcqued, 
"  And  hound  me  fad,  in  one  ill-omened  hour, 

•'  Beyond  the  chance  ofremedie,  to  rede 
"  The  flave  of  wealthie  pride  and  prieftlie 
"  pow'r. 

'  Oft  as  in  ruflet  weeds  I  fconr  along, 
"   In  didant  chappels  hadilie  to  pray, 

'  By  nod  fcarce  noticed  of  the  paffing  thronge, 
"  *'i  is  but  the.  curate,  every  childe  will  fay. 


£22 


THE    WORKS   OF   PENROSE. 


"  Not  circumfcribed  in  dignitie  alone 
"  Do  I  my  rich  fuperior's  vaffal  ride  ; 

"  Sad  penurie,  as  was  in  cottage  known, 

"  With  all  its  frowns,  does  o'er  my  roof  prefide. 

**  Ah!  not  for  me  the  harveft  yields-its  ftore, 
"  The  bough-crown'd  fhock  in  vain  attracts 
"  mine  eye ; 

M  To  labour  doom'd,  and  deftin'd  to  be  poor, 
•*  1  pafs  the  field,  I  hope  not  envious,  by. 

«*  When  at  the  altar  furplice-clad  I  (land, 

"  The  bridegroom's  joy  draws  forth  the  golden 
"  fee ; 

««  The  gift  I  take,  but  dare  not  clofe  my  hand; 
"  The  fplendid  prefent  centres  not  in  me." 

DONNINGTON  CASTLE. 

BLOW  the  loud  trump  of  war,— wide  to  the  gale, 
Unfurl  the  painted  banner,— from  the  bread 
Tear  the  mild  fympathies  of  charity, 
.And  fan  the  battle's  fire. — What  boots  it  now 

If  Briton  fight  with  Briton! Is  there  one 

To  whom  thefe  fliouts  give  joy  ?  can  there  be  one 

•So  fteePd,  fo  frantic  with  envenom'd  rage 

Of  party  feud,  as  to  forego  the  mark 

Of  fair  humanity  ? — Recklefs  to  pluck 

The  bloffoms  from  the  olive,  and  dye  them  red 

Deep  in  a  brother's  blood  ? — If  fuch  there  be 

(Cain's  heir  legitimate)  O  let  him  turn 

His  fierce  eye  to  the  defolated  crown 

Of  many  abatter'd  hill, — to  many  a  heap 

Of  ruins  fcatter'd  through  this  worried  land, 

Scenes  once  of  civil  ftrife,  but  now  become 

Familiar  to  the  lowlieft  village  fwnin. 

If  there  be  one  within  this  fertile  vale 

•(Fertile  through  peace)  who  yearns  for  z&s  of 

blood, 

Direct  his  view,  Divine  Benevolence  ! 
To  yonder  awful,  but  inftru&ive  pile 
Of  grandeur  fallen, — on  the  indented  ridge 
Stands  eloquent  the  fiege-worn  monitor, 
That  fpeaks  from  every  floue  ; — from,  ev'ry  wound 
That  bor'd  its  ftrong,  yet  vain  refitting  fide 
Truth  tells  a  folemn  leffon. — To  the  ear 
•Of  warm  poetic  fancy  fpeaks  the  ghoft 
Of  Chaucer,  prime  of  bards,  who  caught  the  fouls 
Of  ladies  born  for  love,  and  e'en  could  lure 
For  fome  foft  feafon  the  flout  rugged  hearts 
That  fill'd  the  fleel-clad  warriors  of  his  age, 
And  made  them  liflen  to  his  fyren  voice  . 

Half-angry — yet  unwilling  to  be  gone. 
'Tis  Chaucer  hails,  from  the  drear  ivy'd  tower, 
The  gaze  of  idle  vifitants, — but  once 
The  feat  of  all  the  mufes, — where  his  court 
Kept  Phoebus,  gladden'd  at  the  pow'rful  call 
That  woo'd  him  to  our  Albion: — r»undhim  play'd 
Old  Comus  jocular,  with  many  a  glee 
Promoting  focial  laughter; — many  a  grace 
Stole  in  amidft  the  cheerful  throng,  and  footh'd 
The  bafhful  maiden,  while  with  blufhing  joy 
'She  hearken'd  to  her  all-accompliih'd  knight. 
Chaucer,  the  prime  (if  bards ! — with  feftive  fong 
Oft  has  he  charm'd  the  variegated  group 
Within  yon  ancient  v  alls, — walls  that  no  more 
Refbund  with  jocund  minftrelfy. — The  owl 
There  fhrieks  her  ominous  note,  the  raven  hoarfe 
Joins  in  the  horrid  difcord :  direful  change ; 


POVERTY. 

HIE  thee  hence  !  thou  fpefire  foul, 

Fiend  of  mifery  extreme ; 

Hence  !  nor  o'er  yon  dwelling  fcowl 
With  blafting  eye,  while  to  thy  haggard  fcream 
The  midnight  wolf  accords  his  famiih'd  howl, 
And  madd'ning  wretches  loud  in  agony  blafpheme. 

Hence  ! — from  the  artlefs  bard  keep  wide  aloof- 
Fly  rather  to  his  hated  roof, 
Who,  deaf  to  mercy's  foft  controul, 
Can  fleel  with  rugged  edge  the  foul ; 

Plund'ring,  unmov'd  the  orphan's  cry  can  hear, 

Or  from  the  widow'd  lip  the  fcanty  morfel  tear:— 
But  pafs  him  by,  the  wooer  mild 

Of  genius,  friend  to  all,  nature's  ingenuous  child. 

Conftant  toil,  and  coarfefl  fare, 

Long  indeed  the  village  hind 

In  filent  apathy  may  bear, 
While  o'er  his  brow  health's  rofy  wreath  is  twin'd: 

While  his  paflions  fluggifh  flow, 

Borne  on  life's  pacific  round  ; 

Nor  aims  his  higheft  wilh  to  know 
Beyond  the  hamlet's  pale,  his  grandfire's  fartheft 
bound. 

Yet,  rousM  to  feeling,  much  he  mourns  his 

lot, 

When  the  pale  vifage  of  difeafe 
Frowns  on  his  humble  cot, 

When  finks  his  drooping  front,  and  bend  his  feeble 
knees. 

There,  oft,  unheeded  on  the  ground, 
May  ficknefs,  age,  and  want  be  found, 
United  all  in  one  forlorn  abode, 
Of  grief  each  fingly  own'd  a  melancholy  load. 

From  the  damp  and  earthy  bed 
The  fufferer  lifts  his  aching  fight  in  vain  :— 

Defpair  hangs  weeping  o'er  his  hea^  : 
Sad  pallet  this  for  cafe !  fad  comforter  in  pain. 

Fly,  ye  rich,  unbidden  fly, 
Pour  your  oil,  and  pour  your  wine  : 

Wipe  from  tears  the  mifty  eye ; 
Charity's  a  ray  divine — 
A  ray  that  lights  the  foul  with  brighteft  beam  to 

fhine. 

Why  withhold  the  little  boon  ? 

Seems  it  much,  ye  fons  of  wealth, 
Glitt'ring  moths  of  funny  noon — 

Plum'd  with  gold  of  joy  and  health  ? 
O  think  !  a  blaft  may  come,  yourfelves  may  perifh 
foon! 

Yet,  different  in  this  common  ftate, 
What  different  care  attends  your  happier  fate! 

Fading  you  may  fure  receive 
All  wayward  fancy  craves,  all  foothin*  art  can 

give: 

While,  with  equal  wants  oppreft, 
The  child  of  mifery  heaves  his  lab'ring  breaft, 

Cheer'd  by  no  kind  affifting  powers, 
Scarce  with  fuch  crumbs  fuftain'd  as  hungry  health 
devours.    • 

Melt,  in  foft  companion  melt, 
Ye  gentle,  wail  th'  unietter'd  peafant  poor : 
Yet  keener  far,  as  more  feverely  felt, 
4 


P    O    E 

Does  penury  haunt  th'  ill-omen'd  fcholar's 

door;  [more. 

He  calls  for  all  your  tears ;  give  thefe,  if  nothing 

Warm'd  his  foul  with  genial  flame 
In  youth's  gay  fpring  was  hid  to  rife, 

To  pant  for  fcience,  thirft  for  fame, 
And  hope  fair  merit's  golden  prize. 

Much  he  hop'd,  for  many  a  tale 

Of  pratfe  was  echo'd  to  his  car ; 
Pull  many  a  promife  (flatt'ring  gale)  ! 

Foretold  the  wiflTd-for  port  was  near. 

A  while  it  blew, — then  dy'd  away, 
Like  breezes  with  declining  day, 
And  left  him,  wond'ring  wretch  !  forfaken  quite, 
In  poverty's  dead  calm,  and  difappointment's  night. 

What  avails  th'  expanded  mind, 
Tutor'd  in  die  choiceft  lore  ? 
The  fuffering  body  lags  behind, 
Nor  lets  the  rifing  fpirit  foar : 
Call'd  home, — what  Stoic  pride  the  foul  can  fteel, 
When  every  fmew's  rack'd,  and  every  nerve  mufh 
feel? 

What  avails  the  glowing  heart, 

The  eye  that  gliftens  at  diftrefs; 
The  wifh  all  bleffings  to  impart, 
Or  make  at  leaft  a  brother's  furrow  lefs  ? 
From  trouble's  fpring  the  deepeft  draught  he  drew, 
Who  mourns  his  own  hard  lot,  and  weeps  for 
others  too. 

At  the  fad  miftaken  gate,  [ftand, 

When  the   maim'd  veteran   takes  his  fuppliant 

Struck  with  the  haplefs  warrior's  ftate, 
Sudden  the  pitying  tenant  gives  his  hand. — 

— 'Tis  empty — See  !  his  lids  o'erflow, 
To  fend  undol'd  away  the  hoary  fon  of  woe. 

Love  too — for  in  the  lowliefl  cell 
Chafte  love  with  pureft  flame  may  dwell — 
His  love — what  forer  can  befal  ?  [gall- 

Is  doom'd  to  four  its  fweets,  and  dafh  his  cup  with 

Before  the  hufoand's  and  the  father's  eyes 
Stormy  clouds  in  profpecfr.  rife, 
The  future  orphan's  cry,  the  widow's  groan ; 
Thefe  and  more  he  makes  his  own — 
For,  ah !  the  faithlefs  world  by  him  too  well  is 
known. 

For  thefe  the  homely  robe,  the  fcanty  board, 

While  life  in  toil  is  ling' ring;  on, 
The  drudge  of  fcience  may  afford : — 
But  where's  the  friend  will  cheer,  when  that  poor 
life  is  gone  ? 

No  friend  may  rife,  but  many  a  foe 
Will  deck  his  vifage  with  a  fmile, 
Will  hide  in  fqfteft  words  the  bafeft  guile, 
And,  while  he  fooths  the  moft,  will  ftrikc  the 
deepeft  blow. 

Hence  the  pang,  and  hence  the  tear, 
When  his  daughter's  rip'ning  bloom 
Swells  into  agony  his  fear 
Of  the  fell  fpoiler's  den — fair  virtue's  early  tomb. 

THE  HARP. 

BORNE  en  fancy's  wing  along. 
High,  foars  the  bard's  enraptnr'd  foul : 


62J 

Round  him  floats  the  joy  of  fong, 
Round  him  airs  ecflatic  roil : 

Refiftlefs  charm '.  each  fwelling  vein 
Owns  the  accuftom'd  flame,  and  throbs  to  pour 
the  {train. 

Spirit  of  Oflian ! — through  the  gloom 

Of  ages  deepen'd  into  night, 
See  it  burfting  from  the  tomb,*— 

O'er  it  gleams  a  holy  light ! 
See  !  it  waves  its  matter-hand ;  [band. 

Affembling  o'er  the  heath  quick  glide  the  minltrel 

They  wake  the  fleeping  chords! — the  magic  tone 
(That  footh'd  the  dying  warrior's  groan, 
That  lur'd  to  fing  the  lateft  breath, 
And  mock'd  with  fmiles  the  frown  of  death), 
Ideal,  now  renews  the  powerful  fpell ; 
The  lift'ning  fhades,  a  grifly  hofl, 

Spring  from  the  narrow  cell, 
And  hail  with  lengthen'd  fliout  th'  enchanter's 
mighty  ghoft. 

Thine  too,  Cadwallo !  whom  to  fave 
In  vain  the  heavenly  fcience  fu'd, 
Starts  from  Arvon's  tocky  grave 
With  bloody  ftreams  embru'd. 
Bound  in  the  brotherhood  of  woe, 
The  druid  choir  unites,  their  tears  harmonious 
flow. 

Wild  as  they  fweep  th'  aerial  lyre, 

Arrefting  faft  the  paffive  ear, 
Fiercer  glows  the  poet's  fire, — 

O  melody  belov'd !  O  art  for  ever  dear ! 

Ruthlefs  tyrant, — yield  to  fate, 

Nor  folly's  fcorn,  nor  rancour's  hate, 
Though  op'ning  wide  the  fluke  of  gore, 
Could  quench  the  flcill  divine,  could  drown  the 
myflic  lore. 

Long  !~long  indeed  'twas  mute !  thy  feeble  prey 

Fall'n  the  hoary  minftrels  lay: — . 
While,  fkk'ning  o'er  the  mournful  ground, 
The  conquer'd  bands  oft  turn'd  the  ear  in  vain: 
No  more  was  heard  the  foul-infpiring  found,— 
— But,  fafter  in  defpair  s  fad  fetters  bound, 
Each  hung  his  head  aniaz'd,  and  dragg'd  the  fcr- 
vile  chain. 

Wint'ry,  thus  the  ftorm  of  war 
Froze  into  floth  the  captive  mind : 

Till  growing  freedom  burft  the  icy  bar, 
And  loos' d  the  arts  that  hell  for  ever  ftrove  t» 
bind- 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 

A   FRAGMKNT.  I 


So  figh'd  Horatio,  on  a  tomb  reclin'd, 

Beneath  a  mould'ring  chapel's  ivy'd  wall : 

His  ruin'd  hope  o'ergloom'd  his  fickly  mind, 
And  bade  the  head  to  droop— the  tear  to  fall, 

Horatio,  to  whofe  lot  was  not  deuy'd 
Keen  fenfibility  with  all  her  woes: 

By  many  a  painful  teft  his  heart  was  try'd ; 
His  was  the  thorri,  while  othvi  s  -won  the  rofe. 


THE  WORKS   OF   PENROSE. 


Yet,  why  fiiould  thorns  Ins  honeft  bread  inVade, 

Since  all  the  charities'were  fondled  there  ? 
Why  fhould  thy  feat,  benevolence,  be  made 

The  haunt  of  haplefs  grief,  and  pining  care  ? 
FilFd  with  an  ample  foul,  that  would  adorn 

Fair  independence,  he  began  his  day : 
Full  many  a  promife  fmil'd  upon  his  morn  : 

Morn  chang'd  to  eve — each  promife  dy'd  away. 
He  wifh'd — nor  can  you  call  his  wifhes  bold ; 

He  hop'd — for  fure  his  fxiends  were  not  a  few ; 
Ke  hop'd — for  many  a  flattering  tale  was  told, 

And  the  fafe  harbour  pointed  to  his  view. 
The  foft  dclufion  play'd  before  his  fight, 

Jufl.  to  miflead — for  fo«n,  alas!  he  found 
His  dawn  of  joy  o'ercaft  with  fudden  night, 

His  air-built  viiion  totter'd  to  the  ground. 

THE  NAVY. 

A  FRAGMENT. 

DOWN  the  variegated  fide 
Of  Edgecombe's  far-recorded  knoll 
(Joy  of  nereids,  Cornwall's  pride), 
Where  art  extends  her  mild  controul ; 
But  juft  to  check  what  nature's  liberal  hand 
Hasfpread  in  gay  luxuriance  wide, 
Of  rocks,  dells,  groves,  a  fairy  land ; 
The  mufe,  aftonifli'd,  trac'd  her  ling' ring  way, 
Unfettled  what  to  leave,  and  wond'ring  where  to 
Hay. 

FRAGMENT. 

SCRANNEL,  pipe  of  fcanty  tone, 

Yield  the  prize,  and  yield  it  due- 
Pan,  if  here,  mud  furely  own, 

Prom  thee  no  heavenly  rapture  grew— 

Thine's  the  frolic  to  advance, 

Ruftic  joy,  and  ruftic  dance. — 

Merry  glee,  in  many  a  round 

Tripping  o'er  the  daify'd  ground, 

Prais'd  thy  note,  while  rival  feet 

Strove  thy  movements  fad  to  meet. 

A  TALE. 

FOUNDED  ON  AN  INCIDENT  AT  ST.  VINCENT'S 
ROCKS.    1779. 

HJGH  on  the  cliff's  tremendous  fide, 
That  frowning  hangs  o'er  Avon's  tide, 

Three  lafles  chanc'd  to  ftray  : 
To  pluck  the  cafual  flow'rets  bent, 
Hegardlefs  of  the  rough  afcent, 

They  wound  their  dang'rous  way. 
Till,  flowly  mounted  to  the  height, 
They  turn'd  their  view  in  wild  affright, 

And  Ihudd'ring  mark'd  the  fteep : 
O  then,  what  grief  bedew'd  each  eye, 
To  think  one  flip,  one  ftep  awry, 

Might  plunge  them  in  the  deep ! 
A  prieft,  whom  foft  emotions  prefs 
Tofuccour  damfels  in  diflrefs, 

That  inftant  trod  the  fliore; 
With  happy  ftrength  and  fteady  pace, 
Safe  to  the  rock's  time-moulder'd  bafe 

Each  trembling  nymph  he  bore. 
Learn  then  this  truth— the  carelefs  hour 
May  feek  a  gay,  but  treacherous  flower, 

Wfeofe  honey  turns  to  gall ; 


Whik  the  kind  parfon's  timeljr  aid- 

May  refcue  many  a  tott'ring  maid, 

And—  lave  from  many  a  fall. 

EARLY  GRAY  HAIRS. 

O'ER  my  head,  ev'n  yet  a  boy, 

Care  has  thrown  an  early  fnow  — 
Care,  be  gone  !  —  a  fteady  joy 

Sooths  the  heart  that  beats  below. 

Thus,  though  Alpine  tops  retain 

Endlefs  winter's  hoary  wreath; 
Vines,  and  fields  of  golden  grain, 

Cheer  the  happy  1'ons  beneath. 

BAGATELLE. 

EVESY  hour  a  pleafure  dies  — 

What  is  thought,  but  nurfe  to  forrow  ?—  ' 
He  that  wilhes  to  be  wife, 

Lives  to  day,  and  mocks  to  morrow. 

ON  THE  BIRTH-DAY  OF  MISS  S.  C.  • 

EXULTING  on  the  balmy  gale, 

When  Flora  wakes  the  May-dew  morn, 
The  rofe-bud  all  with  rapture  hail, 

Sweet  glory  of  the  lovelieft  thorn  ! 
Each  day  refines  the  rich  perfume  — 

Glad  Flora  fmiles—  the  zephyr  blows— 
While  op'ning  with  a  gradual  bloom, 

The  favourite  ripens  to  a  rofe. 

Thus  in  our  Sufan's  fhape  and  face, 

Refpondent  to  her  angel  foul, 
The  growth  of  each  attractive  grace 

We  mark  —  as  annual  circles  roll. 
Advance,  ye  years  !  —  and  ev'ry  charm 

Which  Venus  boafts,  fhall  fure  be  given; 
While  foft'ring  friendfliip  joys  to  form 

Her  mind,  the  luin.il  work  of  Heavens 

VERSES, 

Occaftencd  l\  hearing  that  a  Gentleman  at  thtHot  WeK^ 
£rijiol,   bad  •written    Satirital    Verfes  on  a  Lady. 


FOR  nobler  purpofes  defign'd, 
Than  puny  war  to  wage, 

What  caufe  can  fink  a  hero's  mind 
To  worfe  than  woman's  rage  ? 

What  female  fault  can  roufe  the  foul 
To-dip  the  ranc'rous  quill  ? 

How  juftify  th'  invenom'd  fcroll 
One  female  fame  to  kill  ? 

If  frailty  aims  the  flight  offence, 
What  man  perceives  the  fmart  ? 

O  let  not  bravery  and  fenfe 
Return  the  feeble  dart  ! 

O'er  the  foft  fex  love  gladly  throw* 

Its  adamantine  fhield, 
And  few  are  ever  known  their  foe?,- 

Or  try  th'  inglorious  field. 

Thus  on  the  form  of  beauty's  queen 
One  only  Greek  was  found, 

Rough  Diomed,  with  weapon  k&en. 
Who  dat'd  inflict  a  Wound; 


TH  B 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  F 


WILLIAM  JULIUS  MICKLE. 


Containing 


SIR  MARTYN, 

ALMADA  HILL, 

POLLIO, 

MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS, 

KNOWLEDGE, 


HENGIST  AND  MEY, 

SORCERESS, 

EPISTLES, 

EPITAPHS, 

FRAGMENTS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE  LIFE   OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


0  for  the  namcleffe  powre  to  ftrike  mine  care. 
That  powre  of  charme  hy  Naiads  once  pofleft. 

Melodious  Mulla  !  when,  full  oft  whyleare, 
Thy  gliding  murmurs  foothd  the  gentle  breft 

Of  hapleffe  SPENSER. • 


SIR  MARTYN,  CANTO  I. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE/ 


'    i 


THE  LIFE  OF  M1CKLE. 


£>OME  particulars  of  the  life  of  MICKLE  were  given  to  the  world  in  the  "  European  Magazine,"  for 
1789,  by  an  intelligent  writer,  who  was  his  intimate  friend,  and  wrote  from  perfonal  knowledge. 

The  facts  ftated  in  the  prelent  account,  are  chiefly  taken  from  the  information  communicated  in 
the  "  European  Magazine,'*  'with  the  addition  of  fome  particulars  collected  from  his  correfpon- 
dence  with  Lyttleton,  inferted  in  the  "Anecdotes"  of  his  life,  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  his  poems  in 
4to,  1794. 

William  Julius  Mickle  was  born  at  Langholm,  in  Dumfries-fliire,  Sept.  2j.  1734.  He  was  the 
third  fon  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  Mickle,  minifter  of  Langholm ;  who  refided  fome  time  at  London, 
and  frequently  preached  at  Watts's  meeting-houfe,  and  was  one  of  the  tranflators  of  Bailey's  "  Dic 
tionary."  In  1716,  he  was  prefented  to  the  parim  of  Langholm,  by  George  the  Firft,  and  about 
the  fame  time,  married  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  Henderfon  of  Ploughlands,  near  Edinburgh, 
by  whom  he  had  feven  children.  He  died  in  1758. 

He  received  the  early  part  of  his  education  from  his  father  in  the  country.  After  his  death,  be 
went  to  Edinburgh,  and  refided  with  an  auat,  whofe  hufband  had  been  a  brewer ;  who  fent  him  to 
the  High-School  in  that  city. 

Early  in  life  he  difcovered  a  propenfity  to  poetry ;  but  he  often  declared  that  he  was  by  no  means 
attached  to  his  books,  until  the  age  of  thirteen,  when  accidentally  meeting  with  Spenfer's  "  Faery 
Q^ieene,"  he  became  pafllonately  fond  of  the  beautiful  imagery  of  that  enchanting  writer,  and  be 
gan  immediately  to  imitate  him. 

At  the  age  of  fixteen  he  quitted  the  High-School,  and  was  employed  to  fuperintend  the  books  of 
his  aunt,  who  continued  her  huiband's  trade.  t 

In  October  1755,  he  commenced  bufinefs  for  himfelf;  but  the  event  only  added  another  to  the 
numberlefs  inftances  which  prove  that  the  puriuits  of  poetry  and  trade  are  incompatible;  for 
though,  from  the  extent  of  his  dealings,  he  paid  more  duty  to  the  Excite  tha>  any  brewer  la. 
Edinburgh,  he  was  utifuccefsful. 

Much  of  his  time  was  probably  devoted  to  ftudy,  as  he  frequently  declared,  'that  before  he  was 
eighteen  years  old,  he  had  written  two  Tragedies,  and  half  an  Epic  Poem,  all  which  be  prddently 
configned  to  the  flames. 

Some  of  his  early  performances  appeared  in  the  "  Scots  Magazine,"  one  of  which,  intituled, 
On  faffing  through  the  Parliament  CloJ'e  at  Midnight,  was  afterwards  reprinted  in  the  fecond  vo 
lume  of  Donaldfon's  "  Collection  of  Original  Poems  by  Scotch  Gentlemen,"  8vo,  1765 

In  1762,  he  publifhed  an  ethic  poem,  intituled  Providence,  or  Aiandus  and  E.tnilec,  ^.to,  a  lan 
guid,  tedious,  and  incorrect  performance,  which,  after  fome  unl'uccefsiul  attempts  "  to  alter  and. 
Ihorten"  it,  was  finally  abandoned. 

In  the  Spring  1763,  he  quitted  Edinburgh,  and  went  to  London,  to  folicit  a  commiflion  in  the 
marine  fervice ;  but  in  this  application  he  met  with  a  difappointinent. 

Having  a  very  exalted  opinion  of  Lyttleton,  whofe  character  was  then  high  in  the  literary 
world,  he  had  fent  him  a  copy  of  his  Providence,  previous  to  his  departure  trom  Edinburgh* 
accompanied  with  a  letter,  under  the  borrowed  name  of  William  More,  in  which  he  requefteri  his 
opinion  and  criticifm. 

The  letter  was  in  a  few  months-  afterwards  anfwered  in  a  very  polite  manner,  and  a  corref- 
pondence  commenced  between  the  Peer  and  the  Poet ;  from  which  he  derived  no  advantage;  but  tha 
honour  of  his  acquaintance,  the  communication  of  his  remarks  on  his  writings,  and  his  encourage, 
merit  to  perfevere  in  his  poetical  ftudies. 

His  Pollie,  an  elegiac  Ode,  Knowledge,  an  Ode,  Mary  Queen  of  Scot's,  an  Elegy;  were  fufejectea! 
to  the  revifal  of  Lyttleton,  and  the  two  firft  appear  to  have  received  fome  corrections  from  his  hand. 

"  I  have  read,"  he  writes  him,  July  15.  1763  "  with  great  pleature,  the  very  beautiful  Ode  you 
did  me  the  favour  to  fend  me  The  correction  of  a  few  lines  would  make  it  as  perfect  as  any  thing 
<jf  that  kind  in  the  Euglifh  language." 


fzB  THE  LIFE   OF   MICKLE. 

He  afterwards  ivntes  ..Ini,  Auguft  *8.  1764,  "  The  firft  of  the  two  Gdes  has  ail  the  merit  that 
juft  fentiment,  fine  poetical  imagery,  elegant  di/rion,  and  harmonious  number*,  can  give  fo  trite  a 
fubject.  There  is  alfo  in  fo'rae  ftanzas  a  lublimity  of  thought  and  expreflion,  which  raifes  it  above 
the  ordinary  pitch  of  mere  dsfcriptive  poetry." 

«  As  to  the  poem  on  the  death  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,"'  he  adds, "  I  will  not  criticife  any  part 
of  it ;  becaufe  I  wholly  difapprove  the  fubject ;  poetry  mould  not  confecrate  what  hiftory  muft 
condemn ;  and  it  is  as  certain  as  hiftory  can  render  any  fact,  that  (hefijles  her  criminal  amours 
with  David  Rizzio  and  Bothwell),  flie  w.is  an  accomplice  in  the  murder  of  the  King  her  huiband. 
Read  Thuanus  or  Hume  (who  have  written  her  hiftory  more  truly  than  Robertfon),  and  you  will 
be  inclined  tp  pity,  not  to  praife  her ;  nor  will  Robertfon  himfelf,  though  he  fhades  her  crimes  as 
jnuch  as  poffible,  give  you  Rich  an  idea  of  her,  as  to  make  you  think  her  a  proper  fubject  for  the 
encomiums  of  a  writer  who  means  to  ferve  the  caufe  of  virtue,  not  of  party." 

"  Though  you  have  difapproved  of  the  Qdt  on  the  ^j/een  vf  Scots,"  he  writes  his  patron  in  re 
turn,  September  8. 1764,  "  I  mnft  think  myfelf  very  happy  in  having  mown  it  to  y6\ir  Lorafliip.  No 
thing  was  ever  farther  from  my  thoughts,  than  to  vindicate  or  deny  her  crimes,  and  if,  while  taken 
up  with  the  fubject,  I  have  fallen  into  what  might  be  looked  on  as  endeavouring  to  give  an  ami, 
able  caft  to  her  vices ;  now  when  your  Lordihip  his  been  fo  good  as  to  warn  me  of  it,  I  can  have 
no  reluctance  to  fupprefs  a  piece  that  was  merely  a  fport  of  fancy.  That  Buchanan,  Knox, 
and  others,  have  fometimes  forgot  the  honour  of  the  hiftorian,  and  indulged  the  rancour  of  party, 
is  pretty  certain.  This,  with  the  greatnefs  of  her  fufferings  (in  fome  inftances  beyond  what,  the 
mod  crooked  policy  could  demand),  pleads  fomething  in  her  favour,  and  it  was  this  that  mifled  me 
to  think  of  writing  an  Ode  on  her  death,  without  fufficiently  weighing  the  propriety  of  the  fubject. 

"  I  would  fain  take  this  opportunity,"  he  adds,  "  to  mention  the  plan  of  a  poem,  which  I  hm-e  long 
had  fome  thoughts  of.  The  fubject  of  it,  if  not  the  title,  to  be,  The  Cave  of  Dtifm.  Mr.  Hume  has 
afferted,  that  Mahometanifm  has  been  more  falutary  to  the  world  than  CruiftianitT.  And  through 
all  his  works  there  runs  a  mod  difmgenuous  manner  of  blending  revelations  with  the  fopperies  and 
iinifter  inventions  of  men  ;  and  in  a  variety  of  fuch  ludicrous  dieffes,  he  would  expofe  Chrifti.inity 
to  the  content  of  his  reader.  Such  a  conduct,'  with  his  fliamelefs  aflertioti,  that  Polytheifm 
•was  the  firft  religion  of  mankind  ;  his  malevolence  of  the  Reformation  ;  the  nonfenfe  he  writes  about 
miracles;  together  with  fuch  like  fentiments,  from  other  infidel  writers,  would  furnifh  out  a  part 
or  character  for  the  Keener  or  Genius  of  the  Cave.  The  defcription  of  the  gloomy  cave  itfelf,  with 
the  vices  that  (helter  in  it ;— the  genius  of  Mahometanifm,  with  the  fmeft  countries  lyieg  in  ruins 
behind  her  ;— that  of  Popery,  and  that  of  genuine  Chiiftianity  introduced  as  perfonages,  with  feme 
yroper  action,  might,  I  fhould  think,  afford  materials  for  a  po«m  of  five  or  fix  hundred  lines,  which 
would  fall  naturally  enough  into  the  manner  of  Spenfer." 

In  a  letter  to  Lyttleton,  dated  April  9.  176"$,  he  gives  the  following  account  of  his  purfuits  and 
difficulties.  "  A  fifuation  that  would  enable  me  to  cultivate  the  itudies  to  which  nature  has  Jed  my 
inclination,  was  all  the  happinefs  I  ever  wiflied  for  ;  but  any  weak  attempt  I  have  made,  has  nei 
ther  procured  fuch,  nor  left  much  hope  of  it  doing  fo.  To  write  for  the  bookfellers  is  what  I  never 
will  do.  Did  my  fortune  enable  me  to  do  for  myfelf  in  trade,  I  might  expect  fome  encouragement 
Tinder  Governor  Jahnftone,  of  Weft  Florida,  to  \vhofc  family  my  father  was  related;  but  as  I  pre 
fer  going  abroad  to  any  thing  I  could  expect  in  ^  counting-houle  in  London,  I  think  I  have  rcafon  to 
hope  that  Major  James  Jahnftone,  brother  to  the  Governor,  will  befriend  me  fo  far,  as  to  procure 
me,  if  in  his  power,  fome  fettlement  in  the  Eaft  or  Weft-Indies." 

"  The  rifk  of  being  cut  off  by  the  climate,"  he  adds,  in  another  place,  **  would  no  wife  deter 
me  from  going  to  Jamaica,  did  it  otherwife  appear  as  the  moft  proper  ftep  I  could  take,  in  which 
cafe  your  Lordfhip's  recommendation  to  Beck  ford,  or  Fuller,  and  mentioning  me  to  your  brother 
the  Governor,  would  be  every  thing  I  could  wifu.  But  as  your  Lordihip  likewife  mentioned  the 
laft-Indies,  and  as  next  to  a  clerkfhip  in  fome  of  the  public  offices  at  home,  I  fliould  prefer  going 
thither,  fo  I  mould  be  very  happy,  could  any  thing  be  done  in  it.  The  Company  have  many  re- 
fidem  clerks,  and  various  places  to  beftow,  and  no  doubt  jour  Lordfliip's  intereft  with  the  Directors 
Would  do  a  great  deal." 

In  anfwer  to  your  laft  letter,"  Lyttleton  writes  him,  "  J  can  only  fay  that  I  have  no  acquaint- 
aace  with  any  of  the  Ea&.Imlia  Directors;  but  if  a  recommendation  to  ray  brother  will  be  of -any 


THE   LIFE   OF   MICKLE.  6i§ 

iffvice  to  you,  I  will  give  it  in  the  manner  I  mentioned.     I  have  not  been  able  to  fee  either 
Beckford  or  Fuller ;  but  it  wilL  be  time  enough  to  fpeak  to  them  fome  time  next  winter." 

On  fuller  information,"  he  writes  Lyttleton  in  return,  "  there  is  only  one  confideration  that 
would  make  me  prefer  the  Eaft  to  the  Weft-Indies,  the  returning  to  England  within  two  years, 
were  I  to  go  Purfer  of  an  £.i(t-Iudiaman  ;  but  as  that  is  not  my  choice,  my  intentions  muft  fettle 
in  the  Weil,  whether  I  (hall  go,  as  the  beft  ftep  I  can  take,  with  all  convenient  fpeed  "' 

"  In  my  laft  letter  to  my  brother,''  Lyttleton  writes  him,  Nov.  6.  1765,  "  I  recbmmended  you 
to  him  for  his  favour  arid  countenance,  as  a  man  of  fine  fentiments,  and  good  genius  in  poetry,  if 
you  fhould  come  to  that  ifl'aud,  while  he  continues  tliere.  Wherever  you  go  I  wiih  yon  health 
and  happinefs.'' 

"  Ydur  Loidfhip's  kindn'efs,"  he  writes  Lyttleton  in  return,  Dec.  6.  1765,  "  in  mentioning  me 
to  your  brother,  lays  me  under  the  greateft  obligations ;  but  as  I  would  avoid  the  dangers  attend 
ing  an  uncertainty,  I  fome  weeks  ago  accepted  an  offer  of  going  as  a  merchant's  clerk  to  Carolina." 

Thus  ended  his  correfpondence  with'  Lyttleton  ;  and  though  the  only  fruits  of  patronage  he  expe 
rienced  were,  his  correcting  Iris' poems,  and  flightly  countenancing  him  when  he  was  little  known 
in  London,  he  always  fpoke  of  him  with  a  rtfpect  bordering  on  reverence. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  at  this  time  he  wrote  his  name  William  Mickle.  The  reafon  of  his  after- 
wards  adding  Julius  to  his  name,  is  not  certainly  k'nown. 

From  fome  circumftances,  unknown  to  his  biographers,  he  did  not  go  to  Carolina ;  but  was  em 
ployed  as  corrector  of  the  Clarendon  prefs  in  Oxford';  a  fituation  much  more  congeniatto  his  tafte, 
than  that  of  a  merchant's  clerk. 

In  1765,"  he  publifhed  Pollio,  an  Elegiac  Ode,  written  in  the  wood  near  Ro/liri  Cajtle,"  4to.  It 
was  written  in  1762,  en  the  death  of  Pus  brother,  and  was  the  firft  poem  which  brought  him  into 
notice. 

In  1767,  he  publiflied  T&p  Concubine,  a  Poem,  in  two  cantos,  in  tie  manner  of  Spenfer,  4to; 
which,  after  going  through  three  editions,  was  improved,  and  republifhed  in  1777,  under  the  title 
«*f  Sir  Martyn,  the  former  title,  as  he  acknowledges  in  his  Introduction,  giving  a  very  improper 
idei  both  of  the  fubject  and  fpirit  of  the  poem. 

In  1769,  he   publiflied  a   Letter  to  Dr.  Har-wood,  wbereinfome  of  his  evaftve  glojes,  \£c.  in 
fuppart  of  the  Arjan  herefy,  contained  in  his  liberal  tranjlation  of  tie  Neiv  Tejlatnetit,  are  pointed, 
out  and  confuted,  Svo. 

In  1770,  his  Mary  Queert  of  Scots,  an  elegy ;  Knowledge,  an  ode ;  and  Hengijl  and.  Mey,  a 
Ballad  ;  were  published  in  Pearch's  "  Collection  of  Poems."  The  note  iriferted  at  the  conclufton  of 
the  elegy  on  Alary,  wat  intended  to  obviate  the  objections  which  Lyttleton  made  to  his  defence  of 
her  character. 

Many  elaborate  attempt's  have  been  made  to  refcue  the  character  of  the'  beautiful,  but  unfortu 
nate  Mary,  from  obloquy  and  reproarh.  The  artifices  of  her  infidious  but  inexorable  rival,  Eliza 
beth,  have  been  clearly  laid  open  by  the  maflerly  pen  of  Dr.  Stuart.  Elizabeth  was  undoubt 
edly  the  enemy  of  her  fame,  her  fortune,  and  her  life.  Yet  the  conduct  of  the  Queen  of  Eng 
land  may  be  confidered  as  in  a  great  meafarc  juftlfied  by  the  alarming  combinations  of  Mary  and 
her  abettors  ;  by  the  general  circumrtances  of  the  times,  and  of  the  two  countries ;  and  by  the  re 
bellious  diipoiition  of  a  confiderable  portion  of  her  lubjects,  exafperated  by  the  fuppreffed  but  ma 
lignant  bigotry  of  the  oid  fuperltition,  and  ready  to  feize  every  opportunity  of  difturbing  the 
reign  of  their  triumphant  enemy. 

In  1770,  he  publifned  Voltaire  in  tbe  Shades,  or  Dialogues  on  the  Dmflical  Controverfy,  Svo ;  and 
about  this  period  was  a  frequent  writer  in  the  "  Whitehall  Evening  Poft." 

He  had  very  early  in  life,  re;id  Caft era's  translation  of  the  Lufiad  of  Camoens  into  French,  and 
then  conceived  a  defign  of  giving  an  Englifh  veriion  of  it.  Various  avocations  had,  however,  pre* 
•vented  him  from  executing  his  intention ;  though  he  retained  the  idea. 

At  length,  having  prepared  himfelf  by  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  the  Portuguefe  language,  he, 
in  1771,  publifhed  the  fail  book  as  a  fpecimenof  his  powers;  and  finding  the  manner  in  which  it 
was  performed  approved  by  his  friend?,  determined  to  devote  his  whol^time  to  the  cgmpleuoa  «* 
the  work. 


*3°  THE   LIFE   OF   MICKLE. 

That  he  might  do  this  without  interruption,  he  quitted  his  fituation  at  Oxford,  and  went  to  re- 
fide  at  a  farm  houfe  at  Foreft  Hill,  where  he  adhered  to  his  plan  with  fuch  attention,  that  the 
tranflation,  which  had  been  printing  while  he  proceeded  on  it,  was  entirely  nnilhed  in  1775,  and 
publiihed  under  the  title  of  The  Lufiad,  or  tie  Di/covery  of  India,  an  Epic  Poem,  &.c.  410,  Ox 
ford  ;  with  an  Introduftion,  The  Hi/lory  of  the  Difco-very  of  India,  The  Hiflnry  of  the  Rife  and 
Fall  of  the  Portnguefe  Empire  in  the  Eujl.  The  Life  of  Camoens,  a  Dijjertation  on  the  Lufiad, 
and  Obfervations  upon  Epic  Poetry,  and  Notes  ami  Illujlrations,  iy'c. 

His  publication  came  out  under  peculiar  difadvantages.  The  Lufiad.  had  been  before  tranf- 
lated  into  Englifh  verfe,  by  Sir.  Richard  Fanfhaw,  1655  ;  but  the  manner  in  which  it  was  done, 
gave  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  beautiful  original.  It  was  written  in  a  language  but  little  cultivated  by 
the  mufes.  The  writer  was  little  known  in  this  country,  and  of  the  tranflator's  powers  the  public 
at  that  time  knew  ftill  lefs. 

In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  Jan.  22.  1776",  he  fays,  "  Though  ray  work  is  well  received  at  Oxford, 
I  will  honeftly  own  to  you,  fome  things  have  hurt  me.  A  few  grammatical  flips  in  the  Introduc 
tion  have  been  mentioned;  and  fome  things  in  the  notes,  about  Virgil,  Milton,  and  Homer,  have 
been  called  the  arrogance  of  criticifm.  But  the  greateft  offence  of  all,  is  what  I  fay  of  blank  verfe. 
My  verification,  however,  receives  a  moft  general  approbation." 

In  his  Differtation,  after  acknowledging  his  obligations  to  Mr.  Magellans,  and  other  Portu- 
guefe  gentlemen,  Thomas  Pearfon,  Efq.  of  the  Eaft  India  Company's  fervice,  for  books  and  infor 
mation  ;  he  adds,  "  The  approbation  exprefled  by  feveral  gentlemen  of  the  Eaft-India  Company, 
on  the  appearance  of  the  poem  on  the  Difcovery  of  India,  gave  the  tranflator  the  greateft  fatisfac- 
tion.  To  Governor  Johnftone,  whofe  anceftors  have  been  the  hereditary  patrons  of  the  anceftors 
of  the  tranflator,  he  is  under  all  the  obligations  which  the  warmeft  2eal  to  promote  the  fuccefs  of 
his  undertaking  can  poflibly  confer.  To  this  gentleman,  in  a  great  meafure,  the  appearance  of  the 
Lnjlad  in  Englifti  is  due.  To  the  friendfhip  of  Mr.  Hoole,  the  elegant  tranflator  of  Taflo,  he  is  pe 
culiarly  indebted.  •  To  James  Bofvvell,  Efq.  he  confeffes  marry  obligations.  And  while  he  thus  re 
collects  with  pleafure  the  names  of  many  gentlemen,  from  whom  he  has  received  afliftance  or  en 
couragement,  he  is  happy  to  be  enabled  to  add  Dr.  Johnfon  to  the  number  of  thofe, .  whofe  kind- 
nefs  fer  the  man,  and  good  wiihes  for  the  tranflator,  call  for  his  fincereft  gratitude.  Nor  muft  a 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Goldfmith  be  neglecled.  He  faw  a  part  of  this  verfion  ;  but  he  can 
not  now  receive  the  thanks  of  the  tranflator.  The  manner  in  which  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Buc- 
cleugh  took  the  Englifb  Lufiad  under  his  patronage,  infinitely  enhanced  the  honour  of  his  accep 
tance  of  the  dedication." 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bofwell,  preferved  in  his  "  Life  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  he  fays,  "  Before  publifh- 
ing  the  Ltiflad,  I  fent  Mr.  Hoole  a  proof  of  that  part  of  the  introduction  in  which  I  make  mention 
of  Dr.  Johnfon,  yourfelf,  and  other  well-wifhers  to  the  work,  begging  -it  might  be  fliown  to  Dr. 
Johnfon.  This  was  accordingly  dore,  and  in  place  of  the  fimple  mention  of  him  which  I  had  made, 
lie  dictated  to  Mr  Hoole  the  fentence  as  it  now  ftands.  Dr.  Johnfon  told  me  in  1772,  that  about 
twenty  year?  before  that  time,  he  himfelf  had  a  defign  to  tranflate  the  Lufiad,  of  the  merit  of 
•which  he  fpoke  highly  ,  but  had  been  prevented  by  a  number  of  other  engagements."  Dr.  Johnfon, 
.it  is  <Vid,  afterwards  recommended  it  to  Go'dfmith. 

During  the  time,  which  Mickle  employed  in  this  tranflatiori,  he  had  no  other  means  of  fubGft- 
^eoce,  than  what  he  received  as  corrector  of  the  Clarendon  prefs;  and  when  he  relinquifhed  that 
fituation,  he  had  only  the  fubfcriptions  he  received  for  the  work,  to  fupport  him.  The  difficulties 
that  fo  narrow  an  income  im:ft  occafion,  may  be  more  readily  conceived  than  defcribed.  But,  look 
ing  forward  with  the  enthufiafm  of  genius,  he  would  not  fuffer  difficulties  that  might  have  dif. 
eouraged  meaner  minds,  to  obftruct  his  progrefs,  or  damp  his  ardour. 

"  When,  after  five  years  unremitting  attention,"  fays  the  writer  of  the  "  Anecdotes"  of  his  life, 
*'  he  had  completed  this  great  work,  thofe  friends  who  knew  his  circumftances,  advifed  him  to  corrfi- 
der  who  would  be  the  proper  patron  to  whom  he  ought  to  dedicate  fuch  a  poem.  I  am  affiired  by  one 
•who  lived  with  him  in  habits  of  great  intimacy  (the  Rev.  Mr.  Sim,  of  Chenies,  Bucks,  formerly  of  St. 
Alban-Hall,  Oxford),  that  Mr.  Mickle  had  repeated  intimations  from  unqueftionable  authority,  in 
forming  him  that  to  feveral  perfons,  then  high  in  the  India  department,  it  would  be  very  accept 
able  ;  but  by  the  dedication  ortuch  a  poem,  as  the  Lv/Md,  they  would  think  thcmfelves  highly  ho- 


THE   LIFE   OF  MICK.LE.  cTjr 

noared  ;  that  lie  might  depend  on  a  princely  acknowledgement ;  and  they  therefore  advifed  him  to 
think  of  the  moft  worthy.  This  counfel  he  was  at  firft  inclined  to,  but  the  advice  of  Commodore 
Johnftone,  turned  the  fcale,  and  it  was  dedicated  to  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh." 

"  That  he  might  omit,"  fays  the  writer  of  the  account  of  his  life,  in  the  '' European  Magazine," 
"  no  prudential  attentions  to  his  future  welfare,  and  with  the  hopes  of  reaping  thofe  advan 
tages  which  ufually  attend  fo  laborious  a  work,  he  applied  to  a  perfon  of  great  rank,  with  whom, 
his  family  had  been  connedled,  for  permiflion  to  dedicate  it  to  him.  "  The  manner,"  fays  the  au 
thor  "  in  which took  the  Englifli  Lujiad  under  his  patronage,  infinitely  en 
hanced  the  honour  of  his  acceptance."  The  manner,  as  the  author  frequently  told  his  friends,  was 
"  by  a  very  polite  letter  written  with  his  own  hand."  But  let  not  indigent  genius,  in  future,  place  too 
much  expectation  on  the  gen<frofity  of  patrons.  After  receiving  a  copy,  for  which  an  extraordi 
nary  price  was  paid  for  the  binding,  days,  weeks,  and  months  elapfed,  without  the  fligbtelt  notice. 
During  this  time,  though  the  author  had  too  much  fpirit  to  folicit  or  complain,  it  is  to  be  teared 
that  feme  of  the  mifery  fo  feelingly  defcribed  by  Spenfer,  fell  to  his  lot. 

Full  little  knowefi  thou,  that  hail  not  tried, 
What  hell  it  is  in  fuing  long  to  bide  ;    &c. 

"  At  length  a  gentleman  of  rank  in  the  political  world,  a  faft  and  a  firm  friend  to  the  author,  and. 
who  afterwards  took  him  under  his  protection,  and  by  that  means  afforded  him  the  independence  he 
latterly  enjoyed,  waited  on  the  patron,  and  heard  with  the  indignation  and  contempt  it  deiervcd,  a 
declaration,  that  the  work  was  at  that  time  Unread,  but  had*  been  reprefented  not  to  have  the  mt-rit  it 
had  been  firft  faid  to  pofTefs ;  and  therefore  nothing  could  be  then  done  on  the  fubjedl  of  his  minion. 
This  paltry  evafion,  the  folicitor  declared,  he  believed  arofe  from  the  malicious  infinuations  of  a 
certain  perfon  about  the  patron,  whofe  miftakes  had  received  a  proper  correction  in  the  preface  to  ' 
the  Lit/lad.  We  know  not  how  true  this  fugge(tion  may  be,  though,  admitting  the  fa  ft,  it  hardly 
alters  the  cafe.  Mr.  Mickle's  account  of  this  interview,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  dated  Auguft  22. 
1776,  now  lies  before  us,  and  we  might  probably  do  no  differvice  to  the  general  interefls  of  litera 
ture,  were  we  to  print  it.  We  cannot,  however,  omit  to  fuggeft  a  doubt,  whether  there  is  not 
fome  fmall  violation  of  moral  reClitude,  in  a  great  man  accepting  from  an  indigent  one,  that  com 
pliment  which  is  offered  him,  under,  at  leaft,  an  implied  agreement,  to  receive  fome  acknowledge 
ment  in  return  for  the  honour  done  him  ?  It  ought  not  to  be  concealed,  that  when  the  fecond  edi 
tion  of  the  Lufiad  was  publiflied  in  177*?,  Mickle  was  ftrongly  recommended  by  a  friend,  to  ftipw 
prefs  the  Dedication.  His  refentmerit  at  the  unworthy  treatment  he  had  received,  had  by  this 
time  been  converted  into  contempt,  and  with  great  magnanimity  he  refufed.  Whoever  vrill  read 
the  Life  of  CamoeAs,  cannot  avoid  observing  a  ftriking  fimilarity  in  the  fortunes  of  the  author,  and 
his  tranflator,  and  he  will  probably  not  be  difpleafed  at  the  concluding  note  of  the  Lufiad.  ''  Simila 
rity  of  condition,  produced  fimilarity  of  complaint  and  fentiment  in  Spenfer  and  Camoens.  Each 
was  unworthily  negleCted  by  the  Gothic  grandees  of  his  age  ;  yet  both  their  names  will  live  when  the 
remembrance  of  the  courtiers  who  fpurned  them  "  flia'll  fink  beneath  their  mountain  tombs." 

"  Oh  may  that  man  that  hath  the  mufrs  fcorn'd, 
Alive,'  nor  dead,  be  ever  of  a  mufe  adorn'd." 

"  I  believe,"  fays  the  writer  of  the  "  Anecdote's,"  of  his  life,  "  the  perfon  alluded  to  is 
t)r.  Adam  Smith,  who  was  the  profefled  admirer  of  Hume,  to  whom  Mickle  was  a  ded.-red 
antag;onift,  and  once  intended  to  have  written  and  publifhed,  An  Heroic  Epijllefrom  David  Hume 
to  Dr.  Adam  Smith  (in  which  the  DoCtor  and  his  pupil  would  have  been  rather  harmly  trr?.c-l). 
Many  of  the  verfes,  he,  at  the  time,  repeated  to  a  particular  friend  ;  but  the  poem  was  never  com 
pleted." 

Such  is  the  manner  in  which  the  Dedication  of  the  LiifiaA  was  received,  according  to  his  bio 
graphers  ;  who,  in  their  indignation  at  the  fuppofed  negleCt  of  his  patron,  feem  not  to  have 
made  furHcient  allowance  for  the  obligations  his  father  was  under  to  the  family  of  Buccleugh. 
His  examination  of  the  popular  arguments  relative  to  the  Britilh  commerce  with  India,  in  his 
Drfettatlon  prefixed  to  the  Lufiad,  his  "  favourite  above  all  that  he  ever  attempted  in  profe," 
might  difpleafe  the  celebrated  author  of  "  The  Wealth  of  Nations',"  who  ftood  forth  as  tbr  philo- 
fophical  champion  for  the  abolition  of  the  monsply  of  the  Eoglilh  Eaft-India  Company ;  but  it  can. 
h'ardly  be  fitppofed  that  trie  "  Epic  Poem  of  Commerce,"  a  work  that  challenges  the  attention  of 

&  r  iiij 


<3*  THE  LIFE  OF  MICKLt. 

the  philofopher,  the  politician,  and  the  gentleman,  could  be  negle&ed  by  a  nobleman,  diftinjuiTu* 
ed  as  much  by  his  patriotifm  and  benevolence,  as  his  high  rank,  andjprincely  fortune,  and  whofe  love 
and  patronage  of  literature  and  fcience,  have  obtained  him  the  diftinction  of  Prefident  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  Edinburgh,  and  enrolled  his  name  among  the  Fellows  of  the  Royal  Colleges  of  Phyficians, 
and  Surgeons  in  that  City. 

In  his  Differtation  prefixed  to  the  Lujtad,  after  reflecting  on  the  diftrefied  fituatien  in  which  Ca- 
moens  was  fuffered  to  languifh,  he  concludes  his  remarks  with  fome  ftanzas,  in  the  manner  of  Spenfer, 
en  the  Ncglefl  of  Poetry,  defcriptive  of  what  we  may  naturally  conceive  were  his  own  fears  for 
the  fate  of  his  tranflation.  But  poetry  fo  fplendid,  fo  fpirited, -to  harmonious,  could  not  remain 
long  unnoticed ;  and  the  applaufe  of  the  public  followed  the  appearance  of  the  Lvfiad  in  fo  high 
a  degree,  as  foon  to  banifti  from  his  mind  the  momentary  chagrin,  which  a  few  circumflances  at 
tending  the  publication  had  given  birth  to. 

.  Notwithftanding  the  approbation  with  which  the  public  had  received  his  tranflation,  by  a  letter 
to  Thomas  Caldecott,  Efq.  of  the  Middle  Temple,  who  warmly  patronifed,  and  very  eflentially  ferved 
him,  while  he  was  at  Oxford,  dated  Foreft-Hill,  Dec.  20.  1778,  it  appears  that  he  was  by  no  means 
happy  ;  and  had  projected  an  edition  of  his  works  by  fubfcription,  for  which  he  had  printed  pra- 
pofals :  "  Befides  the  neceffity  which  urges  to  this  fcheme,  1  am  very  defirous  of  giving  an  edition 
of  my  works,  in  which  I  fiiail  beftow  the  utmoft  attention.  Except  on  very  popular  or  temporary 
fubjects  little  or  nothing  is  to  be  made  of  half  crown  publications,  and  this  alfo  inclines  me  to  a 
quarto  collection  ;  which,  perhaps,  will  be  my  final  farewell  to  that  blighted  fpot  (worfe  than  the 
moft  bleak  mountains  of  Scotland),  yclept  Parnaffus  ;  for  after  this  labour  is  finiflied,  if  Governor 

.  J         cannot,  or  does  not,  help  me  to  a  little   independence,  I  will  certainly  bid  adieu  to 

Europe,  to  unhappy  fufpenfe,  and,  perhaps,  alib,  to  the  chagrin  of  foul  which  I  feel  to  accom 
pany  it." 

Previous  to  the  publication  of  the  Lufiad,  he  had  been  tempted  to  try  his  powers  in  dramatic 
compofition,  and  wrote  a  tragedy,  called  the  Seige  of  Matfeilles,  formed  upon  a  ftory  from  the 
Trench  hiftory  in  the  reign  of  Francis  I.,  when  the  Duke  of  Bourbon,  at  the  bead  of  a  Spanilh  ar 
my,  invaded  his  native  country,  and  laid  fiege  to  Marfeilles ;  which,  with  fome  recommendations  from 
his  literary  friends,  he  transmitted  to  Garrick.  The  manager  acknowledged,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend, 
that  it  contained  many  beautiful  paflages;  buthe  added,  that  fine  writing  was  not  cf  itfelf  fufficientto 
conftitute  a  drama  fit  for  public  exhibition.  Governor, Johnftone,  unwilling  that  the  labour  he  be- 
ftowed  on  this  work  fhould  be  entirely  loft,  folicited  the  aid  of  Mr.  Home,  author  of  Douglas,  to 
make  fome  alterations.  This  was  complied  with,  and  the  piece,  after  being  infpected  by  Air. 
Warton,  was  again  fubfnitted  to  the  manager,  and  again  rejected. 

The  conduct  of  Garrick  ftrongly  excited  his  refentment ;  he  determined  to  print  the  tragedy,  begun 
it,  and  fent  the  firft'fheet  oflt  to  the  manager.  The  motives  which  led  him  to  the  firft,  appear  in  the 
preface  to  the  play  ;  what  induced  hiai  to  the  latter,  he  has  defcribed  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Hoole, 
dated  Nov.  15.  1773. 

"  I  have  juft  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Ballantyne,  wherein  he  acquaints  me,  that  you  feemed 
forry  that  Mr.  Garrick  had  feen  a  proof  meet  of  the  preface  to  my  play.  Mr.  B.  alfo  exprefled  his 
iurprife  how  he  ihould  have  obtained  it,  and  fuppofed  that  fome  perfon  who  wifhed  me  ill  had 
fent  it,  that  he  might  be  prepared  to  prejudice  the  public  againft  me. 

"  The  truth  is,  I  fent  it  to  him  in  a  blank  cover.  Let  him  be  prepared  as  he  will.  Half  a  year 
ago,  I  declared  my  resolution  to  my  friend  Mr.  Bofwell.  He  wrote  me  two  earned  difiuaGve 
letters ;  but  in  vain.  I  hnve  maturely  coniidered  every  circumftance  ;  I  have  pafled  the  Rubicon, 
and  I  will  proceed.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bofwell,  fent  off  only  three  days  ago,  I  told  him  that  I 
fhould  look  upon  any  farther  diffuafive  as  thus,  in  plain  Englifh  :  "  What  do  you  think  the  public 
•will  mind  fuch  a  fcribbier  as  you  ?  No,  my  friend,  take  my  advice,  fold  your  hands  together,  fub- 
mit  to  the  infallibility  of  Mr.  Garrick,  and  ftarve."  I  have  alfo  cited  the  fame  fentence  in  a  letter 
now  on  the  table  to  Governor  Johnftone.  "  I  have  pafled  the  Rubicon,  I  fay,  but  I  am  not  a 
Kenrick.  No  friend  (hall  blufli  for  me.  I  know  what  I  owe  to  them,  and  to  myfelf.  If  I  ata 
pofieffed  of  any  fatirical  abilities,  Mr.  G.  mail  feel  them.  I  have  planned  a  new  Dunczad,  of 
which  he  is  the  hero.  As  foon  as  I  finilh  the  Lujiai,  \  will  fet  about  it.  If  you  think  proper,  yo* 
Bjeatiw  this  in'  any  company." 


THE   LIFE    OF  MICKLE.  «3J 

He  was,  afterwards,  advifed  to  try  its  fate  on  the  Edinburgh  theatre  {  but  Governor  Johnftone 
thinking  it  might  interfere  with  the  completion  of  the  Liijiad,  recommended  him  to  lay  it  entirely 
afide,  until  the  tranflation  was  finiflied.  To  this  he  conferred  ;  and  xvhen  the  Ly/iaJ  was  finished, 
another  friend  recommended  to  him  to  revife  the  play,  and  offer  it  to  Mr.  Harris.  This  was  ac 
cordingly  done,  but  it  was  ftill  uniuccefsful.  After  this  repulfe:  he  relinquished  all  expectations 
of  advantage  from  the  theatre,  though  he  afterwards  permitted  a  perfon  to  fhow  the  unfortunate 
play  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  here  too  it  had  the  fame  fuccefs  as  with  the  ether  managers.  Had  he 
lived,  he  always  declared  his  intention  of  printing  it  in  the  collection  of  his  works. 

The  approbation  which  had  crowned  his  tranflation  of  the  Lje/iad,  and  the  refpectable  name 
which  he  had  now  attained  in  the  literary  world,  loon  banished  from  his  mind  the  mortifications 
he  iuficred  from  the  ill  iuccefs  of  his  tragedy. 

The  firSt  edition  of  the  Ltijiud  being  foon  fold,  he  immediately  prepared  a  fecond,  with  improve 
ments,  which  was  publifhed  in  June  1778.  For  this  Mr.  Mortimer  preferred  him  with  an  etch 
ing ;  and'on  the  death  of  that  excellent  artift,  Feb.  4.  1779,  he  wrote  an  Epitaph  for  him. 

In  1779,  he  published  a  pamphlet,  intituled  A  Candid  Examination  of  the  reefons  for  depriving 
the  Eaft  India  Company  of  its  charter,  contained  in  the  hi/lory  and  management  of  the  Eajl  India 
Company,  from  its  commencement  to  the  prefent  time  ;  together  'with  ftricrures  on  fome  of  tbefelf- 
contradiSiions,  andbijlcrical  errors,  of  Df.  Adam  Smith,  in  bis  reafvns  for  the  abolition  of  the  fold 
Company,  qto. 

About  this  time,  fome  of  his  friends  had  it  in  contemplation  to  recommend  him  to  the  notice  of 
his  MajeSty,  as  worthy  of  a  penfion.  Dr.  Lowth,  Bifhop  of  London,  from  a  knowledge  of  his  vir 
tues  and  talents,  intimated  his  readinefs  to  give  him  ordination,  with  a  promife  of  fome  provision 
in  the  church  ;  but  this  mode  of  life  was  not  agreeable  to  his  difpofition. 

While  the  fcheme  of  publishing  a  collection  of  his  poems  by  fubfcription,  was  ripening,  in  \vhich, 
from  the  exertions  of  his  friends,  he  had  great  reafon  to  hope  for  fuccefs,  his  friend  Governor  John 
ftone  was,  iu  May  1779,  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  Romney  man  of  war,  and  he  imme 
diately  offered  to  appoint  him  his  fecretary,  in  order  that  he  might  partake  of  any  good  for 
tune,  which  might  attend  the  cruize.  So  Uriel  was  his  regard  to  the  enagemerit  he  had  pre 
viously  made  with  his  friends,  from  whom  he  had  received  a  few  fubfcriptions  for  his  poems,  that 
it  was  found  a  very  difficult  tafk  to  pprfuade  him  to  accept  this  offer.  It  was  at  length  fuggefted 
to  him>  that  a  new  Situation  would  open  a  new  fcene,  which  would  enable  him  to  add  what 
might  render  his  volume  ftill  more  acceptable  to  his  fubfcrihers ;  under  this  impreffion  he  ergaged, 
and  fulfilled  his  appointment  during  the  remainder  of  the  year. 

In  November  he  arrived  at  Lifbon,  and  was  appointed  by  the  Commodor*,  joint-agent  for  the 
prizes  which  were  taken.  At  this  place  he  was  coniidercd  as  the  translator  of  the  Luftad,  and  re 
ceived  with  the  moil  nattering  marks  of  attention.  There,  and  in  the  neighbourhood,  he  remaned 
for  mure  than  fix  months. 

During  his  flay,  he  compofed  his  Alrnada  Hill,  en  epiflle  froml.i/boti,  publifhed  in  410,  1781; 
and  collected  fome  particulars  concerning  the  hiftory,  manners,  and  cuftoms  of  the  Portuguefe ; 
which  he  never  arranged. 

The  Royal  Academy  being  opened  while  he  was  at  Lisbon,  he  was  prefent  at  the  ceremony  of 
its  commencement,  and  had  the  honour  to  be  admitted  a  member,  under  the  Presidency  of  one  of 
the  moft  illuftrious  characters  of  the  age,  Prince  Don  John  ot  Braganza,  Duke  of  Lafoens;  who 
prefented  him  with  hisfcwn  portrait  as  a  mark  of  his  regard. 

On  his  return  to  England,  it  was  thought  neceffary  that  he  Should  Stay  in  London,  to  attend  the 
proceedings  in  the  courts  of  law,  refpedting  the  condemnation  of  fome  prizes ;  and  he  did  not 
therefore  accompany  the  Commodore  during  his  lait  expedition  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  nor  did 
he  go  any  more  to  fea. 

In  1782,  he  came  forward  as  an  advocate  for  Chatterton's  title,  in  the  Rowleinn  controverfy,  and 
published  an  iromcal  pamphlet,  intituled,  The  Prophecy  of  Queen  Emma,  an  ancient  ballad,  lately 
difco'vered,  written  by  Johannes  Turgottus,  Prior  of  Darhum,  in  the  reign  of  William  Rufus  ;  to 
•which  is  added,  by  the  editor,  an  account  of  the  dffcovfry  and  bintt  towards  a  vit:4UfUion  of  tbe. 
autbtnticity  of  the  pcerns  ofOJluri  and  Rtwley,  SYJ. 
0 


LIFE   OF   MICK.LE. 

On  the  6th  of  Ju»e  1782,  he  married  Mifs  Tomkins,  daughter  of  the  perfon  with  whom  he  re« 
fided  at  Foreft-Hill,  while  he  was  engaged  in  tranflating  the  Litfiad. 

The  fortune  he  acquired  under  Commodore  Johnftone,  now  enabled  him  to  retire  to  literary  lei- 
fure  and  independence.  He  accordingly  took  a  houie  at  Wheatley,  a  few  miles  from  Oxford,  where 
he  devoted  his  vacant  time  to  the  revifion  of  his  poetical  works  and  tragedy,  which  he  propofed 
publilliing  by  fubfcription. 

The  efficient  patronage  of  Commodore  Johnftone  will  be  remembered  to  his  honour.  On  the 
death  of  his  real  friend  and  patron,  May  14.  1787,  he  fliowed  his  affection  and  gratitude 
to  his  memory,  in  fome  elegiac  verfes,  a  copy  of  which  he  fent  to  the  gallant  Lord  Rod 
ney,  begging  his  opinion  and  correction  of  the  firft  note,  and  received  the  following  anfwer, 
dated  Albemarle-ftreet,  May  16.  1788.  "  Nothing  can  give  me  more  real  pleafure,  than  the 
affection  and  gratitude  fllown  by  you  to  the  memory  of  our  worthy  friend  George  Johnftone.  It 
is  impoflible  for  me  not  to  approve  of  the  verfes  of  the  tranflator  of  the  Lufiad,  which,  without 
flattery,  in  my  poor  opinion,  are  equal,  if  not  fuperior,  to  Pope's  tranfhuion  of  the  Ilia,d.  It  is  im 
poflible  not  to  be  plcafed  with  both.  Both  inftil  in  our  minds  the  glorious  idea  of  doing  our  duty 
to  our  country,  and  that  life  without  honour  is  a  burden. 

"  Your  note  relative  to  the  intelligence  fent  me  in  1761,  I  think  not  full  enough.  The  intelli-* 
gence  was  of  that  confeqtience,  that  without  it  every  Spanifh  province  in  the  Weft  Indies  had  been 
prepared,  as  I  did  not  receive  orders  from  England  till  Martinique  was  taken,  and  I  had  failed  to 
attack  Domingo,  in  which  time  my  cruifers  had  taken  every  Spanilh  packet  that  had  failed  from 
Spain  with  the  declaration  of  war.  And  the  very  day  I  received  Mr.  Johnftone's  difpatches,  I  fent 
them  to  Jamaica,  defiring  the  Governor  to  lay  an  embargo,  and  the  Admiral  to  feize  all  Spanjfh 
fhips  ;  which  was  done  accordingly,  and  the  Spanifli  Governors,  totally  ignorant  of  the  war,  till 
Sir  George  Pococke  and  the  Britifli  fleet  came  in  fight,  fome  months  after,  off  the  Havannah.  Mr. 
Johnftone,  therefore,  may  be  properly  faid  to  have  taken  the  Havannah. 

"  With  infinite  pleafure  I  beg  you  will  put  me  down  as  a  fubfcriber  to  your  works,  and  beg  you 
•will  do  me  the  honour  of  calling  upon  me  when  you  come  to  town.'* 

During  the  laft  feven  years  of  his  life,  he  occafionally  afforded  fome  affiftance  to  the  "  European 
Magazine,"  the  Fragments  of  Leo,  and  feveral  of  the  Reviews  of  books  came  from  his  hand.  In 
September  1788,  at  the  requeft  of  a  friend,  he  wrote  a  fong  called  R/idale  Braes,  in  honour  of  the  place 
of  his  birth,  a  country. moit  beautifully  Arcadian,  in  the  centre  of  that  diftridl  on  the  border  of  Scot 
land  which  is  thus  defcribed  by  Dr.  Percy,  in  his  "  Reliques  of  Ancient  Englifti  Poetry,"  "  Moft. 
of  the  fineft  old  Scottifh  fongs  have  the  fcene  laid  within  twenty  miles  of  England,  which  is  indeed 
all  poetic  ground,  green  hiih,  remains  of  wuods,  clear  brooks.  The  paftoral  fcenes  remain  ;  of  the 
rude  chivalry  of  former  agt:s,  happily  nothing  remains  but  the  ruins  of  the  carries.1' 

This  fong,  in  commemoration  of  a  fpot,  in  itfelf  of  little  importance,  but  dignified  by  the  birth 
of  heroes,  who  have  bled  in  defence  of  their  country,  and  poets  who  have  given  new  harmony  ta 
the  language,  was  intended  to  be  fet  to  mufic  by  James  Balmain,  Efq.  Commiflioner  of  the  Excife, 
and  brother-in  law  to  Commodore  Johnftone  ;  fo  that  we  fliould  have  an  Efkdale  fong,  written  by  a 
bard  of  Elkdale,  and  fet  to  mufic  by  a  native  of  the  fame  place. 

This  was  the  laft  compofuion  he  lived  to  finim.  After  a  fliort  illnefs,  he  died  at  Wheatly  in  Ox- 
fordfliire,  OCT.  25th  1789,  in  the  55th  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  at  Wheatly.  He  left  a  fon, 
Tvith  but  a  fcanty  provifion  ;  whom  his  executors  Francis  Waitie,  Efq.  of  Great  Milton,  Oxfordihire, 
and  Mr.  William  Bailantyne,  merchant,  Savage  Gardens,  have  placed  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Nailor  at 
Hammerfmith,  in  order  that  he  maybe  qualified  foradmifiion,  on  the  foundation  of  Winchefter  College. 
His  Poems,  including  the  pieces  formerly  printed  feparately,  except  Providence,  with  the  Sor- 
cerefs,  and  other  original  pieces,  and  the  tragedy  of  the  Siegt  of  Marfiilles,  were  collected  and 
publifhed  by  fubfcription,  in  one  volume  410,  1794,  with  fome  "  Anecdotes"  of  his  life,  '•  in  which 
are  comprifed  feveral  letters  from  the  late  Lord  Lyttleton,''  with  the  benevolent  purpofe  of  raiting 
a  fum  to  affill  the  education  and  provifionof  his  fon.  His  poems,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1794  with 
his  verfes  on  Pq/fing  through  the  Parliament  Clofc  of  Edinburgh,  at  Midnight,  and  fome  fmaller  pieces 
felected  from  the  Introduction  to  the  Lvjlad,  and  the  "  Anecdotes"  of  his  life,  are  now,  for  the  firft 
timef  received  into  a  collection  of  claflical  Englifh  poetry.  His  poem  on  Providence,  he  himfelf 
thought  too  incorrect  for  republication.  A.  ^vpy  of  his  Prophecy  of  Qieeett  Emma,  &C.  could  not  fre 
obtained  for  the  ufe  of  this  edition. 


THE   LIFE   OF   AIICKLE.  635 

On  the  following  character  of  Mickle,  given,  by  the  writer  of  the  account  of  his  life  in  the 
"  European  Magazine,"  the  editor  of  his  poems  obferves,  "  that  having  known  him  intimately, 
and  known  him  long,  he  thinks  it  ftrictly  juft." 

"  To  thofe  who  are  unacquainted  with  Mr.  Mickle's  writings,  we  need  not  point  out  the 
beauty,  the  ftrength,  or  the  variety  of  his  verification,  the  harmony  of  his  numbers,  and  the  vi 
gour  of  his  imagination.  Thefe  are  fo  apparent,  that  we  rifle  nothing  in  declaring  our  opinion, 
that  they  muft  fooner.or  later  force  themfelves  into  the  notice  of  thofe  who  at  prefent  are  ftrangers 
to  them.  Leaving  his  literary  character,  therefore,  to  find  its  own  value,  we  ihall  confine  ourfelves 
to  fpeak  of  him  as  a  member  of  fociety.  He  was  in  every  point  of  view  a  man  of  the  utmoft  in 
tegrity,  warm  in  his  friendfhip,  and  indignant  only  againft  vice,  irreligion,  or  meannefs.  The 
compliment  paid  by  Lord  Lyttleton  to  Thomfon,  might  be  applied  to  him  with  the  ftricteft  truth; 
not  a  line  is  to  be  found  in  his  works,  which,  dying,  he  would  wiflj  to  blot.  During  the  greateft 
part  of  his  life,  he  endured  the  preffures  of  a  narrow  fortune  without  repining,  never  relaxing  his 
induftry  to  acquire  by  honeft  exertion  that  independence  which  at  length  he  enjoyed.  He  did  not 
Ihine  in  converfation,  nor  would  any  perlbn  from  his  appearance  have  been  able  to  farm  a  favour 
able  judgment  of  his  talents  In  every  iituation  in.  which  fortune  placed  him,  he  difplayed  an  in 
dependent  fpirit,  undebafed  hy  any  meannefs,  and  when  his  pecuniary  circumftances  made  him  on 
one  occafion  feel  a  difappointment  with  fome  force,  he  even  then  feemed  more  afhamed  at  his  want 
of  difcernment  of  character,  than  concerned  for  his  lofs.  He  feemed  to  entertain  with  reluctance 
an  opinion,  that  high  birth  could  be  united  with  a  fordid  mind.  He  had,  however,  the  fatisfaclioa 
of  reflecting,  that  no  extravagant  panegyric  had  difgraced  his  pen.  Contempt  certainly  came  to  his 
aid,  though  not  foon  ;  he  wiflied  to  forget  his  credulity,  and  never  after  converfed  on  the  fubjecl  by 
choice.  To  conclude,  his  foibles  were  but  few,  and  thofe  inoffenfive ;  his  virtues  many ;  and  his 
genius  very  confiderable.  He  lived  without  reproach,  and  his  memory  will  always  be  cheriflied  by 
thofe  who  were  acquainted  with  him." 

In  this  portrait  of  Mickle,  his  few  imperfections  are  commendably  thrown  into  (hade,  but  his  virtues 
are  faithfully  delineated,  and  cannot  fail  to  imprefs  the  moil  advantageous  idea  of  his  character. 
Religion  appears  to  have  been  a  leading  feature  in  his  mind ;  but  the  zeal  againft  infi  lelity  which 
induced  him  to  plan  his  Cave  of  Deif/n  ought  not  to  have  rendered  him  inlenfible  of  the  value  of 
two  fuch  men  as  David  Hume,  and  Adam  Smith,  fo  far  as  to  circulate  among  his  acquaintance  the 
Heroic  Epiftlc  in  ridicule  of  thefe  ornaments  of  philofophy.  To  have  threatened  Garrick  with  a 
Dunciad  it  he  re.ufed  to  get  up  a  very  moderate  tragedy,  would  feem  inexcufable,  were  not  the 
ftnus  irritabile  vatum  almoft  proverbial. 

The  character  of  Mickle,  as  a  poet,  ranks  very  high  among  his  countrymen.  His  rerfirkation  is 
undoubtedly  very  vigorous  and  manly  ;  but  certainly  not  equally  remarkable  for  corredlnefs.  It 
unites  the  freedom  of  Dryden  with  the  force  and  harmony  of  Pope.  The  Englifh  Lujlad  is  a  truly 
elaflkal  performance,  and  itands  unrivalled  by  any  production  of  the  kind  in  our  language,  but  the 
Englifli  Iliad.  His  Sir  Marty n,  Altnada  Hill,  Pollio,  and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots*  if  he  had  writtea 
nothing  elfe  are  fufficient  to  entitle  him  to  a  claflical  distinction  among  the  poets  of  our  nation. 

Of  the  Lujlad  he  is  not  only  an  able  translator,  but  a  fpirited  advocate.  He  has  very  judicioufly 
prefaced  his  tranflation  with  a  copious  and  fatisfactory  introduction  to  the  hiftory  of  the  poem, 
and  accompanied  it  with  notes  that  were  neceflary  to  give  it  proper  elucidation.  The  narrative 
is  liberal  and  elegant,  interfperfed  with  many  fenfible  obfr.rvations,  and  juft  political  reflections. 
In  the  critical  part  of  his  notes,  he  merits  great  praife ;  but  he  has  fometioies,  perhaps,  rather  itept 
•ut  of  his  way.  The  lively  and  ingenious,  though  inaccurate  and  ill-grounded  criticifms 
and  mifreprefentations  of  Voltaire,  refpedting  the  Lujlad,  have  drawn  from  his  pen  fuch  a 
Severity  of  animadverfion  and  reprehenfion,  as  feem  fcarcjJy  juftifiable,  when  occafioned  by  a 
difference  chiefly  affecting  a  point  of  tafte.  Voltaire  admits  the  Lujiad  to  be  a  work  juftly  de- 
ferving  of  a  diftinguifhed  rank  in  epic  poetry,  a  work  abounding  in  beauties,  and  exh. biting 
alfo  fome  ftriking  defects.  It  is,  as  he  affirms,  a  poem  without  a  plan ;  without  unity ;  with 
out  propriety  j  for  the  machinery  exhibits  a  monftrous  combination  of  Chriltian  and  Pagan  my 
thology.  Vafco  de  Garna*  the  hero  of  the  poem,  for  inftance,  prays  to  the  God  of  Ifrael  in  a  ftorm, 
»nd  the  goddefs  Venus  corals  to  his  relief,  "  But  we  are  told,"  fays  Voltaire,  "  that  the  machinery 


«36  THE   LtEE   OF   MICKLE. 

js  allegorical ;  thus  Mars  is  clearly  defined  to  reprefent  JVfus  Thrift,  and  Fc.wj'tte  Virgin  :\ 
All  this  may  be  true,  but  I  own  I  iliould    not  have  fufpectt  d  it."     He  is  not  fatisfitd  with  eager- 
Jy   defending   the   propriety    of    this    allegorical   interpret.uiun,    and    with    dating    trie   c! 
anfwer  to  the  objection  refpecting  the  unity  of  the  action,  but  he  recriminates  upon  Voltaire,  and 
e.spofes  him  to  contempt  and  deteftation.     In  his  analyfis  of  the  I.v/iad,  he  enters  deep  into  the  me 
rits  of  the  poem,  and  finds  it  pofTeftcd  of  all  the  fpirir,  and  great  component  parts  of  the  epic.    The 
tefult  of  his  examination  of  the  machinery,  and  conftruction  of  the  poem,  on  the  principles  ot  the 
Epopcera,  will  fatisfy  men  of  tafte  and  elegant  refearches.  Men.of  minuter  ftudies,  and  fentiuncnts  left 
enlarged,  may,  indeed,  cavil  at  what  they  think  fome  deviations  from  the  epic  fyftem  ;  that  fyftem 
\vhich  fcholaftic  formality  and  mechanical  minds  have  drawn  from  thole  great  archetypes,    who 
themfelves  know  no  rule  but  the  implicit  purl'uit  of  nature. 

If  we  conuder  only  the  ftate  of  the  Iberian  poetry  at,  and  even  after,  the  time  when  Camoens 
wrote,  we  muft  look  upon  his  Litfiad  as  a  wonderful  performance.  He  was  the  original  poet  of  his 
country.  He  had  not,  like  Taflb,  a  Dante  to  fmooth  his  way,  nor  like  Milton,  a  Spenfer.  Around 
him  all  was  obfcurity,  and  even  an  affectation  of  obfcurity.  The  Spaniards  looked  with  the  higheft 
•veneration  on  the  writings  of  Balthazar  Gracian,  and  Luis  de  Gongora,  becaufe  they  were  abftracted 
and  unintelligible.  Even  their  great  poet  Lopez  de  Vega,  wrote  in  the  fame  ftrange  enigmatical 
ftyle;  a  whimfical  heterogeneous  mixture  of  the  eiiflure  of  the  French,  and  the  ccnrftti  of  the  Ita 
lians,  interwoven  with  the  fombrous,  but  fantaftic  ground  of  the  Mortfca.  When  thefe  defects  of 
the  national  poetry  are  confidcred,  thole  of  Ctimot»stin  particular,  will  be  thought  the  more  exculable, 
and  his  excellences  will  do  him  the  greater  honour. 

*'  Homer  and  Virgil"  fays  Mickle  •'  have  been  highly  praifcd  for  their  judgment  in  the  choice 
of  the  fubjects  which  interefted  their  countrymen ;  and  Statins  has  been  as  leverely  blamed  tor  his 
uninterefting  choice.  But  though  the  tubject  of  Cawceru  be  particularly  intercfting  to  his  country 
men,  it  has  alfo  the  peculiar  happinefs  to  be  the  poem  of  every  trading  nation.  It  is  the  tpic  poem 
•f  the  birth  of  commerce.  And  in  a  particular  manner  the  epic  poem  of  whatever  country  has  the 
controul  and  polVeffion  of  the  commerce  of  India.  An  unexhaufted  fertility  and  variety  of  poetical 
defcriptibn,  an  unrxhaufted  elevation  of  fentimcnt,  and  a  tonftant  tenor  of  the  grand  (implicit  y  of 
diction  complete  the  character  of  the  Lnjiail  of  Camoens  ;  a  poem  which  though  it  has  hitherto 
received  from  the  public  molt  unmerited,  and  fiom  the  critics  molt  unmerited  injustice,  was  yet 
better  underftood  hy  the  greateft  poet  of  Italy.  Taflb  never  did  his  judgment  more  credit  than 
•when  he  dreaded  Camoertt as  a  rival,  or  his  generolity  more  honour,  than*  when  he  addrelVed  his 
elegant  Ibnnet,  "  Vafco  le  cui  felici,  Sic."  to  the  hero  of  the  Lvfiad" 

Of  the  extraordinary  talents  of  his  illustrious  contemporary,  Taflb  appears  to  have  been  perfectly  fen- 
/il.V.  Montefquitu  in  his  "Spirit  of  Laws,"  has,  with  adegreeof  impartiality, by  no  means  peculiar  to 
his  character,  allowed  that  the  £r//fo<?  unites  the  charms  ot  the  "  Odylfey"  with  the  magnificence  of 
the  "  jJ^neid  ;*'  he  might  have  added,  with  the  majeftic  fpiiit  and  divine  energy  of  the  "  Iliad  "  The 
lire  of  the  Moeonian  bard  glows  in  the  eye  of  Camoens,  while  he  bears  upon  his  afpect  the  ferene  dignity 
of  the  Mantuan  mule.  But  he  not  only  unites  the  power  of  compofuion  that  characterize  the  three 
ancient  poems;  he  aflbciates  their  different  interefts.  The  ftrong  unconquered  paflions,  the  martial 
ardour,  and  ftormy  valour  of  the  heroes  at  Troy,  are  powerfully  reprefented  in  Gatnd't  narrative 
«f  the  Lufians  and  their  watt.  His  piety,  his  tender  attachment  to  his  country,  and  affection  for 
his  prince,  make  us  feel  every  thing  for  him  that  we  have  felt  for  Virgil's  hero ;  and  whatever  at 
tention,  ciuiofity  or  concern  the  man, 

Qui  mores  houiinum  multorum  vidit— 

could  pofiibly  excite  in  the  reader,  all  thcfe  muft  be  awakened  io  a  more  interefling  manner  by 
the  author  of  the  Lujlad,  He  fubfcribes  to  Voltaire's  affcition,  when  he  calls  it  uae  nouvclle 
tft'ece  d'  Epopee;  but  though  the  happincfs  of  Camoens  in  the  novelty  of  his  fukject  muft 
be  acknowledged,  yet  it  is  certainly  much  in  the  manner  and  fpirit  of  the  M  Odyfley,"  the  con 
duct  of  which  he  has  omitted  to  analyfe. 

To  the  character  of  the  Li/fiaJ,  as  given  by  Mickle,  every  reader  of  tafte  will  very  freely  con- 
fent;  aad  he  has  done  himfelf  the  higheft  honour,  in  makinj  his  author  iivt  in  the  fulncf*  of  hisl^i- 


THE   LIFE  OF   MICKLE.  6*37 

»rt,  and  in  all  the  ftreagth,  harmony,  and  beauty  of  our  heroic  verfe.  The  mod  delicate  Grain  of 
gallar>try,  and  the  high  fpirit  of  Spanilh  honour,  while  in  its  unftained  days,  breathe  throughout 
the  Lujiad.  Defcription  riots,  and  the  graces  of  imitative  and  fentimental  harmony  abound  in  eve- 
ry  page.  On  the  principal  beauties  of  the  poem,  it  is  unneceflary  to  enlarge.  The  death  of  the  beau- 
liful  Inez,  an  epifode,  in  the  third  book,  is  diftinguillied  by  a  tenderuefs  and  fwcetnefs  of  num 
bers.  The  battle  of  Aljabarota  in  the  fourth,  and  the  tea  ilorm  in  the  thth,  are  defcribcd  in  all 
the  ftrengfb  of  rough  nervous  verfe.  The  fiction  of  the  apparition  of  the  Cape  of  Tempers,  in  the 
fifth,  in  fublimity  and  awful  grandeur  of  imagination,  is  perhaps  unequalled  in  human  competi 
tion.  The  dcfcription  of  the  fpe&re,  the  awfulnefs  of  the  prediction,  and  the  horror  that  breathes 
through  the  whole,  till  the  phantom  is  interrupted  by  Gama,  are  in  the  true  fpirit  of  the  wild  and 
grand  terrific  of  an  Homer  or  a  Shakfpcare.  Th«  numbers  which  relate  the  behaviour  of  Catm, 
while  a  prifoner  in  India,  in  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  book,  have  a  peculiar  ioftinefs  ami  grand 
fimplicity  ;  and  the  dcfcription  of  the  IJland  of  Lovt,  in  the  fame  book,  contains  the  mott  beauti 
ful  landscapes  of  rural  painting,  preftnted  in  fucceflivc  fcenes,  in  the  fofteit  and  moft  melodious 
verfification. 

It  is  with  concern,  that  the  prefent  fcriter  is  obliged  to  obferve,  that,  notwithstanding  the  epip 
powers  of  Cynofns,  have  received  their  due  honour  in  our  language,  by  the  elegant  and  fpiritcd 
translation  of  Mickle,  and  the  fubjecl  being  commercial,  and  therefore  fceming  fo  peculiarly  calcu 
lated  for  Great  Britain,  the  Englith  Lujiad  has  not  yet  attained  the  celebrity  it  merits.  But  the 
time  muft  come,  when  it  will  be  nniverfally  read,  and  then  it  mult  be  uuiverfally  admired.  That 
its  merits  may  be  more  generally  known,  he  has  recommended  it  to  be  reprinted  among  other  poet 
ical  tranllations,  deilgned  as  a  fuppleraent  to  this,  collection  of  the  "  Works  of  the  Britilh  Poets." 

His  Sir  Martyn,  or  the  Progrtft  of  Diffipation,  is  the  longcit  and  moil  elaborate  of  his  original 
poetical  compofitions.  Among  the  numerous  imitations  of  Spenfer,  it  will  not  be  eafy  to  point  out 
pne  that  \vi  J  fo  well  bear  a  comparifon  with  the  original.  It  indicates  a  warm  and  fruitful  ima 
gination,  with  much  tafte.  The  dtfign  and  fpirit  of  the  poem  dcferve  great  praife.  After 
an  invocation  to  the  genius  of  Spenfer,  and  the  propotition  of  the  fubject,  Sir  Martyr's  firrt 
attachment  to  his  concubine,  his  levity,  his  love  of  pleafure  and  diilipation,  with  the  influence 
over  him  which  (lie  aflumes,  are  defcribed.  The  effects  cf  this  influence  are  nest  exemplified  in 
the  different  parts  of  his  relative  character, — in  his  domcftic  elegance  of  park,  garden,  and 
houfe  ; — in  his  unhappinefs  as  a  lover,  a  parent,  a  man  cf  letters j— behaviour  as  a  mailer  to  his 
tenants,  as  a  friend  and  a  brother  ;— and  in  his  feelings  in  his  hours  of  retirement,  as  a  man  of  birth 
and  a  patriot.  The  poem  clofcs  with  an  allegorical  cataftrophr.  The  reafons  he  gives  in  his  pre 
face  for  having  adopted  the  manner  of  Spenfer,  are,  "  That  the  fulnefs  and  wantonnefs  of  defcrip- 
tion,  the  quaint  fimplicity,  and  above  all,  the  ludicrous,  of  which  the  antique  phrafeology  and 
manner  of  Spenfer,  are  fo  happily  and  peculiarly  fufceptible,  inclined  him  torfteem  it,  not  only  as 
the  belt,  the  only  mode  of  competition  adapted  to  his  fubje<5l."  Though  the  relation  between  verfe 
of  Coiiiic  Itructure,  and  the  Progrcj*  of  Dffipat ion  may  not  generally  be  allowed,  yet  it  cannot 
be  denied,-that  the  imitation  is  very  fuccefsfully  performed,  with  refpecl  to  the  metre,  the  lan 
guage,  and  the  tk'tion.  He  has  the  fame  ftyle  of  harmony,  and  the  fame  fpirit  of  enthufiaiiu 
which  diftinguiiU  the  poetry  of  Spenfer.  His  defcriptions  are  equally  copious  and  luxuriant,  and  are 
embelliflied  with  the  fame  degree  of  imagery,  and  heightened  by  the  fame  colourings  of  animated 
fancy. 

His  Alnada  HX!,  3in  Epiftlefrom  Lijbon,  is  very  properly  ftyled  "  A  Supplement  to  the  Englifh 
J-ufiad,"  and  well  deferves  to  be  adopted  into  the  native  language  of  the  Portuguefe  Homer.  He 
opens  his  epiiUe  with  a  well-drawn  picture  jjf  a  joylefs  winter  day  in  England,  contrafted  with  the 
genial  influence  of  a  warmer  clime  1  After  hinting  at  what  will  probably  be  the  caufc  of  our  political 
decay,  he  enters  more  immediately  upon  the  fubjecl  of  the  poem,  which  abounds  with  local  pi<flurefque 
views  by  land  and  fea,  and  historical  incidents,  from  the  time  of  the  Romans,  to  the  great  earthquake  in 
1755.  The  defcriptive  parts  are,  he  tells  us,  ftri<ftly  local ;  and  they  have  every  appearance  of  beinj 
truly characleriftical  and  appropriate.  The  names  ofViriatuj.Sertorius^ucan.Trajan.&c.  are  happily 
introduced.  After  curforily  pointing  out  the  migbty  deeds  the  lofty  bills  of  Spain  of  old  have  •wttnejjed^ 
fce  notices  the  change  of  manner*  that  has  prevailed  in  conference  of  the  fubverfion  of  the  Romia 


«&  THE   LIFE   OF   MICKLE. 

empire,  by  the  irruption  of  the  Goths  and  other  northern  tribes ;  and  though  the  caufes  he  aflign* 
for  that  peculiar  character  which  has  fince  marked  each  of  the  different  divifions  of  Europe,  may 
not  be  hiftorically  true,  yet  the  ideas  he  has  darted  on  this  fubject  are  at  lead  poetical  and  ingeni 
ous.     The  difeafed  chivalry  of  romance  is  contrafted  with  the  chivalry  of  wifilom  and  honour,  as  he 
ftyles  the  religious  fury  of  crufading,  which  the  prefent  writer  cannot  agree  with  him  in  admiring. 
The  fall  of  Lisbon's  naval  throne  occafions  fome  boding  thoughts  on  that  of  London.     The  naval 
glory  of  the  Portugufe,  during  the  time  they  firft  eftablifhed  themfelves  in  Afia,  and  the  fate  of 
Gama,  have  their  due  place;  with  the  maffacre  of  the  Moors  at  the  taking  of  Lifbon,  that  of  the 
Jews  and  Chriftians  in  1505,  the  revolution  that  fet  the  Duke  of  Braganza  on  the  thronei  a   fu- 
blime   defcription  of  the  earthquake,  Sec.     The  Duke  of  Lafaetis  receives  a    high   eulogium  in 
the  conclufion,  for  his  tafte   in  the   belles  lettres,  hiftory,  5cc.     The  general  poetical  merit   of 
the  epiftle    is   very  confiderable.      The    fentiments    may  fometimes  be    thought  exceptionable ; 
but   the   verfification   is   fpirited    and   harmonious;    though    it  would  have  been   more    fo,  had 
he  lefs  frequently  made  one  verfe   run  into  another.     In   attempting  bold   innovations    in   lan 
guage,  he  has,  in  fome  inftances,  violated  metaphorical  propriety.     Of  the  peculiar  advantages 
of  the  epiftolary  form  of  compofition,  he  has   not  perhaps   availed  himfelf  fo    much  as  he  might 
have  done  ;    excepting,  at  the  commencement  of  the  poem,  he  feems  in   great  meafure  to  have 
loft   fight   of  the   friend   to  whom   it   is  addrefled.     He  is  indeed  twice  afterwards  adverted  to  ; 
but  from  the  manner  in  which  it  is    done,  it  feems   as  much  with   the  view  to  fill  up  the  mea 
fure  of  the  verfe,  as  to  awaken   and  direct:  the  attention  to  any   ftriking  object.     The  writer  of 
epiftles,  if   he  wifhes   to   make   them  as  interfiling  as  their  nature  will  admit,  mould  lofe  no  op 
portunity  of  appealing^  where  it  can  prudently  be  done,  to  the  feeling's  and  fentiments  of  thofe  t« 
whom  he  is  fuppofed  to  be  addreffing  himfelf. 

His  Pallia,  an.  Elegiac  Ode,  is  characterifed  by  genuine  enthufiafm,  vigour  of  thought,  and  natu 
ral  expreflion.  The  defcription  of  Rojlin  Caftle  has  dignity  and  characteriftic  propriety.  There  is 
likewife  confiderable  merit  in  the  defcription  of  the  retreats  wh;re  he  had  experienced  with  his 
brother,  the  happy  amufements  of  young  fimplicity ;  which  naturally  renew  his  grief  and  com 
plaints  for  his  lofs. 

His  Elegy  on  Mary  ^jteen  of  Scots,  evinces  ftrong  powers  of  imagination,  a  brilliant  fancy,  and 
true  fentimental  feeling.  The  imagery  is  various  and  rich  ;  the  expreflion  is  at  the  fame  time 
beautiful  and  bold  ;  and  the  fentiments  are  tender  and  interefting.  They  who  think  differently  from 
him  with  refpect  to  the  character  of  Mary,  mull  allow,  that  her  misfortunes  are  lamented,  and  her 
virtues  and  accomplifhments  are  commended,  in  numbers  equally  harmonious  and  tender. 

His  Knowledge,  an  Ode,  is  nervous  and  elegant,  both  in  fentiment  and  expreflion ;  and  though, 
by  r»afon  of  its  philofophical  tenor,  the  defcriptive  part  is  lefs  luxuriant,  yet  the  colouring  is  not 
languid,  nor  are  the  defcriptions  inanimated. 

His  U.engi/1  and  Mey,  and  the  Sorcerefs,  are  not  inferior  to  the  bell  imitations  of  the  ancient 
heroic  ballad.  The  Sorcerefs,  is  conceived  with  much  fancy.  It  was  written  at  the  requeft  of  a 
friend,  who  poffefled  Mr.  Mortimer's  picture  of  "  The  Incantation,"  as  a  flory  to  the  painting. 
From  this  picture,  ,Dixon,  engraved  a  very  fine  print. 

His  EJkdale  Braes,  he  kas  characterifed  in  a  letter,  which  he  fent  to  a  friend,  with  the  fong, "  The 
ballad,  indifferent  as  it  is,  has  too  much  poetical  expreffion,  and  is  too  clear  of  low  nonfenfe  and 
abfurdity,  ever  to  become  popular.'' 

The  elegant  ftanzas  on  Mr.  Servinton,  were  built  on  an  incident  fomewhat  fimilar  to  that  which 
he  has  made  the  groundwork  of  his  Sir  Martyn,  and  may  be  confidered  as  a  miniature  picture  of  the 
confequences  of  diffipation.  The  ftanzas  On  the  negletf  of  Poetry  are  beautifully  pathetic.  Of  his 
fmaller  pieces,  the  Epitaph  on  Mr.  Mortimer  is  the  moft  fuccefsful.  In  the  Stanzas  to  a  young 
Lady  Jludious  of .  Botany,  he  makes  the  primrofe  a  flower  which  lingers  to  the  winter  feafon; 
on  the  contrary,  it  is,  as  its  name  denotes,  an  early  production  of  the  Spring,  and  does  not  linges 
even  to  the  approach  of  Summer. 

5 


THE  WORKS  OF  MICKLE. 


POEMS. 


POLLIO. 

AN   ELEGIAC  ODE. 

Written  in  the  Wood  near  Rojlin  Caflle.  1762. 

"  Haec  Jovcm  fentire  deofque  cuncftos, 

"  Spem  bonam  certaraque  domum  reporto." 

HORAT. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

IT  has  been  often  faid,  that  fiftion  is  the  moft  pro 
per  field  for  poetry.  If  it  is  always fo,  the  writer 
of  this  little  piece  acknowledges  it  as  a  circnm- 
ftance  againft  him.  The  following  ode  was 
firft  fuggefted,  and  the  ideas  contained  in  it 
raifed,  on  revifiting  the  ruins'  and  woods  that 
had  been  the  fcene  of  his  early  amufcments, 
•with  a  deferving  brother,  who  died  in  his  twcn- 
ty-firft  year. 

THE  peaceful  evening  breathes  her  balmy  ftore, 
The  playful  fchool-boys  wanton  o'er  the  green ; 

Where  fpreading  poplars  (hade  the  cottage  door, 
The  villagers  in  ruftic  joy  convene. 

Amid  the  fecret  windings  of  the  wood, 
W  ith  folemn  meditation  let  me  ftray ; 

This  is  the  hour,  when  to  the  wife  and  good, 
The  heavenly  maid  repays  the  toils  of  day. 

The  river  murmurs,  and  the  breathing  gale 
Whifpers  the  gently-waving  boughs  among ; 

The  ftar  of  evening  glimmers  o'er  the  dale, 
And  leads  the  fi lent  hoft  of  heaven  along. 

How  bright,  emerging  o'er  yon  broom-clad  height, 
The  filver  emprefs  of  the  night  appears ! 

Yon  limpid  pool  reflects  a  ftream  of  light, 
And  faintly  in  its  breaft  the  woodland  bears. 

The  waters  tumbling  o'er  their  rocky  bed, 
Solemn  and  conftant,  from  yon  dell  rcfound ; 

The  lonely  hearths  blaze  o'er  the  diftant  glade  ; 
The  bat,  low-wheeling,  (kirns  the  duflcy  ground 

Auguft  and  hoary,  o'er  the  Hoping  dale, 

The  Gothic  abbey  rears  its  fculptur'd  towers ; 

pull  through  the  roofs  refounds  the  whittling  gale 
Dark  lolitude  among  the  pillars  low'xs. 

Where  yon  old  trees  bend  o'er  a  place  of  graves, 
And,  f oleum,  fliade  a  chapel's  fad  remains ; 


Where  yon  ikaith'd  poplar  through  the  window 

waves, 
And,  twining  round,  the  hoary  arch  fuftains : 

There  oft  at  dawn,  as  one  forgot  behind. 

Who  longs  to  follow,  yet  unknowing  where, 
lome  hoary  fhepherd,  o'er  his  ftaff  reclin'd, 
Pores  on  the  graves,  andfighs  a  broken  prayer. 

High  o'er  the  pines,  that  with  their  dark'ninr 
fliade 

Surround  yon  craggy  bank,  the  caflle  rears 
Its  crumbling  turrets :  ftill  its  towery  head 

A  warlike  mien,  a  fullen  grandeur  wears. 

So,  'midfl.  the  fnow  of  age,  a  beaflful  air 

Still  on  the  war-worn  veteran's  brow  attends; 

Still  his  big  boaes  his  youthful  prime  declare, 
Though  trembling,   o'er  the  feeble  crutch  he 
bends. 

While  round  the  gates  the  duflcy  wallflowers  creep. 
Where  oft  the  knights  the  beauteous  dames  have 
led; 

Gone  is  the  bower,  the  grot  a  ruin'd  heap, 
Where  bays  and  ivy  o'er  the  fragments  fpread. 

'Twashere  our  fires,  exulting  from  the  fight, 
Great  in  their  bloody  arms,  march'd  o'er  the  lea. 

Eying  their  refcued  fields  with  proud  delight ; 
Now  loft  to  them !  and  ah,  how  chang'd  to  me! 

This  bank,  the  river,  and  the  fanning  breeze, 

The  dear  idea  of  my  Pollio  bring ; 
So  done  the  moon   through   thefe  foft-nodding 
trees, 

When  here  we  wander'd  in  the  eves  of  fpring. 

When  April's  fmiles  the  flowery  lawn  adorn, 
And  modcft  cowflips  deck  the  ftreamlet's  fide: 

When  fragrant  orchards  to  the  rofeate  morn 
Unfold  their  bloom,  in  heaven's  own  colours 
dy'd: 

So  fair  a  bloflbm  gentle  Pollio  wore, 

Thefe  were  the  emblems  of  his  healthful  mind; 

To  him  the  letter'd  page  difplay'd  its  lore, 
To  him  bright  fancy  all  her  wealth  refign'd: 

Him  with  her  purefl  flames  the  rhufe  endow'd, 
Flatnej  never  to  th'  illiberal  thought  allied; 

The  facred  fibers  I  'd  whete  virtue  glow'd 
in  all  her  charms;  he  faw,  he  felt, 


THE   WORKS   OF.MICKLE. 


Oh  partner  pf  my  infant  griefs  and  joys! 

Big  with  the  fctnes  now  paft,  my  heart  o'erflows, 
Bids  each  endearment,  fair  as  once,  to  rife, 

And  dwells  luxurious  on  her  melting  woes. 

Oft  with  the  rifing  fun,  when  life  was  new, 
Along  the  woodland  have  I  roam'd  with  thee  ; 

Oft  by  the  moon  have  brufh'd  the  evening  dew, 
\V  hen  all  was  fearlefs  innocence  and  glee. 

The  fainted  well  where  yon  bleak  hill  declines, 
Has  oft  been  confcious  of  thofe  happy  hours ; 

But  now  the  hill,  the  river  crown'd  with  pines, 
And  fainted  well,  have  loft  their  cheering  pow 
ers. 

For  thou  art  gone         my  guide,  my  friend,  oh 
where, 

Where  haft  thou  fled,  and  left  me  here  behind ! 
My  tendereft  wifh,  my  heart  to  thee  was  bare, 

Oh,  now  cut  off  each  paffage  to  thy  mind  1 

How  dreary  is  the  gulf,  how  dark,  how  void, 
The  tracklefs  fhores  that  never  were  repafl ! 

Dread  feparation  !  on  the  depth  untry'd 
Hope  faulters,  and  the  foul  recoils  aghaft. 

Wide  round  the  fpacious  heavens  I  caft  my  eyes ; 

And  fhall  thefe  ftars  glow  with  immortal  fire, 
Still  fhine  the  lifelefs  glories  of  the  fkies, 

And  could  thy  bright,  thy  living  foul  expire  ? 

Far  be  the  thought— the  pleafures  moft  fublime, 
The  glow  of  friendfhip,  and  the  virtuous  tear, 

The  tow'ring  wifh  that  fcorns  the  bounds  of  time, 
Chill'd  ID  this  vale  of  death,  but  languifh  here. 

60  plant  the  vine  on  Norway's  wint'ry  land, 
The  languid  ftranger  feebly  buds,  and  dies; 

Yet  there's  a  clime  where  virtue  fhall  expand 
With  godlike  ftrength,  beneath  her  native  fines- 

The  lonely  fhepherd  on  the  mountain's  fide, 
With  patience  waits  the  rofy  opening  day  ; 

The  mariner  at  midnight's  darkfome  tide, 
With  cheerful  hope  expeds  the  morning  ray. 

Thus  I,  on  life's  ftorm-beaten  ocean  toft, 
In  mental  vifion  view  the  happy  (here, 

Where  Pollio  beckons  to  the  peaceful  coaft, 

Where  fate  and  death  divide   the  friends  no 
more. 

Oh  that  fome  kind,  fome  pitying  kindred  fhade, 
Who  now,  perhaps,  frequents  this  folemn  grove, 

Would  tell  the  awful  fecrets  of  the  dead, 
And  from  my  eyes  the  mortal  film  remove  ! 

Vain  is  the  wifh — yet  furely  not  in  vain 
Man's  bofom  glows  with  that  celeftial  fire, 

Which   fcorns  earth's  luxuries,   which  fmiies  at 

pain, 
And  wings  his  fpirit  with  fublime  defire. 

To  fan  this  fpark  of  heaven,  this  ray  divine, 
Still,  oh  my  foul !  ftill  be  thy  dear  employ ; 

Still  thus  to  wander  through  the  fhades  be  thine, 
And  fwell  thy  breaft  with  vifionary  joy. 

So  to  the  dark-brow'd  wood,  or  facred  mount, 
'  In  ancient  days  the  holy  feers  retir'd^ 
And,  led  in  vifion,  drank  at  Siloe's  fount, 
"While  rifing  ecftafies  their  bofoms  fir'd; 


Reftor'd  creation  bright  before  them  rofe, 
The  burning  cleferts  fmiPd  as  Eden's  plains, 

One  friendly  made  the  wolf  and  lambkin  chofc, 
The  fiowery  mountains  fung— "  Meffiah  reigns !' 

Though  fainter  raptures  my  cold  breaft  infpire, 
Yet  let  me  oft  frequent  this  fclemn  Icene, 

Oft  to  the  abbey's  fnatter'd  walls  retire,     - 

What  time  the  moonfhine  dimly  gleams  between. 

There,  where  the  crofsin  hoary  ruin  nod?, 

And  weeping  yews  o'erfhade  the  letter'd  ftones, 
While  midnight  filence  wraps  thefe  drear  abodes,  - 

And  foofhes  me  wand'ring  o'er  my  kindred 
bones. 

/ 
Let  kindled  fancy  view  the  glorious  morn, 

When  from  the  burfting  graves  the  jtift  fhall  rife. 
All  nature  fmiling,  and,  by  angels  borne, 

Median's  crofs  far  blazing  o'er  the  fides.  . 

SIR  MARTYN. 
IX  THE  MANNJER  OF  SPENSER. 

AUTHOR'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 
THIS  attempt  in  the  manner  of  Spenfer,  was  firft 
publifhed  in  1767,  fmce  which  time  it  has  paffed 
through  fome  editions,  under  the  title  of  the  Cen- 
cub'ine ;  a.  title  which,  it  muft  be  confeffed,  con 
veyed  a  very  improper  idea  both  of  the  fubje&  and 
fpirit  of  the  poem.  It  is  now  more  properly  inti 
tuled  Sir  Martin ;  and  the  author  is  happy  to  find 
that  the  public  approbation  of  the  work  has  given 
him  an  opportunity  to  alter  its  name  fo  much  to 
advantage. 

The  firft  publication  was  not  accompanied  with 
any  prefatory  addrefs,  by  which  either  the  inten 
tion  of  the  writer  might  be  explained,  or  the  can 
dour  of  the  reader  folicited.  To  folicit  candour 
for  the  poetical  execution,  he  ftill  declines;  for 
tafte  is  not  to  be  bribed ;  but,  perhaps,  juftice  t* 
himfelf  may  require  fome  explanation  of  his  defign, 
and  fome  apology  for  his  ufe  of  the  manner  of 
Spenfer. 

It  is  an  eftablifhed  masim  in  criticifm,  that  an 
interefting  moral  is  effential  to  a  good  poem.  The 
character  of  the  man  of  fortune  is  of  the  utmoft 
importance,  both  in  the  political  and  moral  world ; 
to  throw,  therefore,  a  juft  ridicule  on  the  purfuits 
and  pleafures  which  often  prove  fatal  to  the  im 
portant  virtues  of  the  gentleman,  muft  afford  an 
interefting  moral;  but  it  is  the  management  of  the 
writer  which  alone  muft  render  it  ftrihing.  Yet 
however  he  may  have  failed  in  attaining  this,  the 
author  may  decently  afferc,  that  to  paint  falfc  plea- 
fure  as  it  is,  ridiculous  and  contemptible,  alike 
deftrudlive  to  virtue  and  to  happinefs,  was,  at 
leaft,  the  purpofe  of  his  poem. 

It  is  alfo  an  eftablifhed  maxim  in  criticifm,  that 
the  fubjedl  of  a  poem  fhould  be  «ne ;  that  every 
part  fhou'd  contribute  to  the  completion  of  one  de 
fign  ;  which,  properly  purfued,  will  naturally  dif- 
fufe  itfelf  into  a  regular  beginning,  middle,  and 
end.  Yet,  in  attaining  this  unity  of  the  whole,  the 
neceffary  regularity  mull  ftill  be  poetical ;  for  the 
fpirit  of  poetry  cannot  exift  under  the  fhackles  of 
logical  or  mathematical  arrangement.  Or,  to  ufe 
the  words  of  a  very  eminent  critic, "  As  there  muft 


POEMS. 


w  needs  be  a  connexion,  fo  that  connection  will 
•  "  beft  anlweritsend,and  thepurpoi'e  of  the  writer; 
"  which,  whilft  it  leads  by  a  fure  train  of  think- 
"  ing  to  the  conclufion  in  view,  conceals  itfclf  all 
"  the  while,  and  leaves  to  the  reader  the  fatisfac- 
"  tio'n  of  fupplying  the  intermediate  links,  and 
"  joining  together,  in  his  own  mind,  what  is  left 
"  in  a  feeraing  pofture  of  neglect  and  inconnec- 
"  tion." 

If  therefore,  the  delineation  of  the  character  of 
the  man  of  birth,  who,  with  every  advantage  of 
natural  abilities  and  amiabie  difpofition,  is  at  once 
loft  to  the  public  andhimfelf;  it  this  character  has 
its  beginning,  middle,  and  end,  the  poem  has  all  the 
unity  chat  propriety  requires:  how  far  fuch  unity 
is  attained,  may  perhaps  be  feen  at  one  view  iu  the 
following  argument. 

After  an  invocation  to  the  genius  of  Spenfer,  and 
proportion  of  the  fubject,  the  knight's  firft  at 
tachment  to  his  concubine,  his  levity,  love  of 
pleafure,  and  diflipation,  with  the  influence  over 
him  which  on  this  fhe  affumes,  are  parts  which 
undoubtedly  conftitute  a  juft  beginning. 

The  effects  of  this  influence,  exemplified  in  the  dif 
ferent  parts  of  a  gentleman's  relative  character 
— in  his  domeflic  elegance  of  park,  gardens,  and 
houfe— in  his  unhappinefs  as  a  lover,  a  parent, 
and  a  man  of  letters — behaviour  as  a  mafter  to 
his  tenants,  as  a  friend  and  a  brother — and  in  his 
feelings  in  his  hours  of  retirement  as-  a  man  of 
birth,  and  a  patriot,  naturally  complete  the 
middle,  to  which  an  allegorical  cataftrophe  fur- 
nifhes  the  proper  and  regular  end. 

Some  reafons,  perhaps,  may  be  expected,  for 
having  adopted  the  manner  of  Spenfer.  To  pro- 
pofe  a  general  ufe  of  it,  were  indeed  highly  abfurd ; 
yet  it  may  be  prefumed,  there  are  fome  fubjects  on 
which  it  may  be  ufed  with  advantage.  But  not  to 
enter  upon  any  formal  defence,  the  author  will  on 
ly  fay,  that  the  fulnefs  and  wantonnefs  of  defcrip- 
tion,  the  quaint  fimplicity,  and  above  all,  the  ludi 
crous,  of  which  the  antique  phrafeology  and  man 
ner  of  Spenfer  are  fo  happily  and  peculiarly  fufcep- 
tible,  inclined  him  to  efteem  it  not  folely  as  the 
beft,  but  the  only  mode  of  compofition  adapted  to 
his  fubject. 

CANTO  I. 

The  mirthfull  bowres  and  Howry  dales 

Of  pleafures  faerie  land. 
Where  virtues  budds  are  blighted  as 

By  foul  enchanters  wand. 

AWAKE,  ye  weft  windes,  through  the  lonely  dale, 

And,  fancy,  to  thy  faerie  bowre  betake  ! 
Even  now,  with  balmie  frefhneffe,  breathes  the 

gale. 

Dimpling  with  downy  wing  the  ftilly  lake ; 
Through  the  pale  willows  faultering  whifpe'rs 
wake,  [<!ew ; 

And  evening  copes  with  locks  bedropt  with 
On  Defmonds'*  mouldering  turrets  flowly 
fhake 

*  Tie  cajlh  of  tie  Earl  ofDrfmonJ,  en  the  lar.ls  of  tie 
river  Mu'la  in  Ireland,  i<  as  fome  time  the  rtfidcufc'nf 
Sf infer ,  the  place  where  be  IK  rote  the  greatejl  [.art  of  the 
Faery  Qtteene. 

VOL.  XI. 


The  trembling  ri&-grafs,  and  die  hare-bell  b  lue 
And  ever  and  anon  faire  Mullas  plaints  renew. 

O  for  the  namcleffe  powrc  to  ftrike  mine  eare, 
That  powre  of  charme  by  naiads  once  poffeft, 

Melodious  Mulla !  when,  full  oft  whyleare, 
Thy  gliding  murmurs  foothd  the  gentle  breft 
Of  hapleffe  Spenfer  ;  long  with  woes  oppreft, 

Long  with  the  drowlie  patrons  fmylcs  decoy'd, 
Till  in  thy  fhades,  no  more  with  cares  diftreft, 

No  more  with  painful  anxious  hopes  accloyd, 
The  Sabbath  of  his  life  the  milde  good  man  en. 
joyd: 

Enjoyd  each  wifh  ;  while  wrapt  in  vifions  bleft, 
The  mufeswooed  him,when  each  eveninggrey 

Luxurious  fancy,  from  her  wardrobe  dreft 
Brought  forth  her  faerie  knights  in  fheen  array 
By  for  reft  edge  or  welling  fount,  where  lay, 

Farre  from  the  crowd,  the  careleffe  bard  fupine : 
Oh  happy  man  !  how  innocent  and  gay, 

How  mildly  peaceful  paft  thefe  houres  of  thine! 
Ah,  could  a  iign  avail,  fuch  fweete  calme  peace 
were  mine ! 

Yet  oft,  as  penfive  through  thefe  lawns  I  ftray, 

Unbidden  tranfports  through  my  bofomefwell; 

With  pleafing  reverence  awd  mine  eye,  furvey 

The  hallowed  {hades  where  Spenfer  ftrung 

his  fhell.  [dell, 

The  brooke  ftill  murmurs  through  the  bufhy 

Still  through  the  woodlands  wild  and  beauteous 

rife 
The  hills  green  tops;   ftill  from  her  mofs- 

•white  cell 

Complayning  echoe  to  the  ftockdove  fighs, 
And  fancy,  wandering  here,  ftill  feels  new  extacies. 

Then  come,  ye  genii  of  the  place !  O  come, 
Ye  wilde-wood  mufes  of  the  native  lay  ! 
Ye  who  thefe  bancks  did  whilom  conftant  roam, 
And  round  your  Spenfer  ever  gladfom  play  ! 
Oh  come  once  more  !  and  with  your  magic  ray 
'Thefe   lawns   transforming,    raife    the    myftic 

fcene— — 

Thefe  lawns  already  own  your  vertual  fway, 

Proud  citys  rife,  with  feas  and  wildes  atweene; 

In  one  enchanted  view  the  various  walks  ol  men. 

Towrd  to  the  iky,  with  cliff  on  cliff  ypild, 

Fronting  the  funne,  a  rock  fantaftic  rofe ; 
From  every  rift  the  pink  and  primrofe  fraud, 
And  redd  with  bloffoms  hung  the  wildings 

boughs ; 

On  middle  cliff  each  flowry  fhrub  that  blews 
On  Mayes  fweete  morne  a  fragrant  grove  dif- 

playd, 

Beauteous  and  wilde  as  ever  druid  chofe  ; 
From  whence  a  reverend  wizard  through  the 

fhade 

Advaunft  to  meet  my  fleps ;  for  here  me  fecmd 
I  ftray'd. 

White  as  the  fnow-drop  roun.d  his  temples  flowd 
A  few  thin  hairs ;  bright  in  his  eagle  eye, 

Meint  with  heavens  lightning,  focial  mildneffc 

glowd ; 

Yet  when  him  lift  queynt  was  his  leer  and  flic, 
Yet  wondrous  diftant  from  malignitie  ; 

ior  ftill  his  fmyle  did  forcibly  difclofc 

The  foul  of  worth  and  v>'a;m  hart-honeftie : 


THE    WORKS   OF  MICKLE. 


Such  winning  grace  as  age  but  rare  beftows 
Dwelt  on   his  cheeks  and    lips,   though  like  the 
withering  rofe. 

Of  fkycn  blue  a  mantling  robe  he  wore, 
A  purple  girdle  loofely  tyd  his  waift 

Enwove  with  many  a  flowre  from  many  a  fhore, 
And  half  conceald,  and  half  reveald  his  veft, 
His  veft  of  filk,  the  Faerie  Queenes  bequeft 

Wh:it  time  fhe  wooed  him  ere  his  head  was  grey; 
A  lawrell  bough  he  held,  and  now  addreft 

To  fpeech,  he  points  it  to  the  mazy  way 
That  wide  and  farre  around  in  wildeft  profpedt  lay. 

Younkling,  quoth  he,  lo,  where  at  thy  defire 
The  wildernefs  of  life  extenfive  lies ; 

The  path  of  bluilering  fame  and  warlike  ire, 
Of  fcowling  powre  and  lean- boned  covetife, 
Of  thought  ieffe  mirth  and  folly's  giddy  joys; 

And  whither  all  thofe  paths  illufive  end, 
All  thefe  at  my  command  didadlick  rife, 

And  fliift  obedient  as  mine  arm  I  bend. 
He  faid,  and  to  the  field  did  ftrait  his  arm  extend. 

Well  worthy  views,  quoth  I,  rife  all  aroun  d , 

But  certes,  lever  would  I  fee  and  hear, 
How,  oft,  the  gentle  plant  of  generous  ground 
And  faireft  bloom  no  ripend  fruit  will  bear ; 
Oft  have  I  fhed,  perdie,  the  bitter  tear 
To  fee  the  fhoots  of  virtue  fhrink  and  dy, 

Untimely  blafled  in  the  foft  greene  care : 
What  evil  blight  thus  works  fuch  villainy, 
To  tell,  O  reverend  feer,  thy  prompt  enchant 
ment  try. 

Ah  me !  how  little  doe  unthinking  youth 
Forefee  the  forrowes  of  their  elder  age  ! 
Full  oft,  quoth  he,  my  bofom  melts  with  ruth 
To  note  the  follies  of  their  early  ftage, 
Where  difiipations  cup  full  deepe  they  pledge ; 
Ne  can  the  wizards  fawsdifperfe  to  flight 
The  ills  that  foon  will  warre  againft  them 
wage,  [Tpright, 

.  Ne  may  the  fpells  that  lay  the  church-yarde 
From  pleafures  fervile  bands  rekafe  the  lucklefs 
wight. 

This  truth  to"  tell,  fee  yonder  lawnfkepe  rife, 

An  ample  field  of  Britifh  clime  I  ween, 
A  field  which  never  by  poetick  eyes 

Was  viewd  from  hence.    Thus,  through  the 

rural  fcene 

Has  by  a  thoufand  artifts  pencild  beene, 
Some  other  may,  from  other  point,  explore 
_  A  view  full  different,  yet  as  faire  beieene  : 
So  (hall  thefe  lawns  prefent  one  lawnfkepe  more : 
Tor  certes  where  we  ftand  flood  never  wight  be- 
Core. 

In  yonder  dale  does  wonne  a  genfle  knight 
Fleet  as  he  fpake  ftill  rofe  the  imagerie 

Of  all  he  told  depeinten  to  the  fight ; 
It  was,  I  weet,  a  goodly  baronie : 
Beneath  a  greene-cladhill,  right  faire  to  fee, 

The  caille  in  the  funny  vale  yftood ;  [tree, 

All  round  the  eafl  grew  many  a  fheltering 

And  on  the  weft  a  dimpling  filver  flood 
Ran  through  the  gardins  trim,  then  crept  into  the 
wood. 


How  fweetly  here,  qnoth  he,  might  one  employ 
And  fill  with  worthy  deed  the  fleeting  houres , 

What  plefaunce  mote  a  learned  wight  enjoy 
Emong  the  hills  and  vales,  and  fhady  bowres, 
To  mark  how  buxom  Ceres  round  him  poures 

The  hoary-headed  wheat,  the  freckled  come, 
The  bearded  barlie,  and  the  hopp  that  towre» 

So  high,  and  with  his  bloom  falews  the  morne, 
And  with  the  orchard  vies  the  lawnfkepe  to  adorn; 

The  fragrant  orchard,  where  her  golden  ftorc 

Pomona  lavifhes  on  everie  tree, 
The  velvet-coated  peach,  the  plumb  fo  hore, 
The  nectrines  redd,  and  pippins  fheene  to  fee, 
That  nod  in  everie  gale  with  wanton  glee  : 
How  happy  here  with  Woodflocks  laughing 

fwain, 

And  Avon's  hard  of  peerlefle  memorie, 
To  faunter  through  the  dafie-whitened  plain, 
When  fancys  fweeteft  impe,  Dan  Spehfer,  joins  the 
train. 

Ne  to  Syr  Martyn  height  were  thefe  unknown ; 

Oft  by  the  brooke  his  infant  fleps  they  led, 
And  oft  the  fays,  with  many  a  warbling  tone 
And  laughing  fhape,  flood  round  his  morning 

bed : 

Such  happinefs  bloom'd  fair  around  his  head. 
Yet  though  his  mind  was  formd  each  joy  to 

tafte, 

From  him,  alas !  dear  homefelt  joyaunce  fled, 
Vain  meteors  ftill  his  cheated  arms  embrac'd ; 
Where  all  feemd  flowrie  gay,  he  found  a  dreary 
wafte.  • 

Juft  when  he  had  his  eighteenth  fummer  feen, 
'  Lured  by  the  fragrance  of  the  new-mown 
hay,  [green, 

As  careleffe  fauntering  through  the  elm-Fenced 
He  with  his  book  beguild  the  clofing  day, 
The  dairy -maide  night  Kathrin  frifk'd  that 

way ; 

A  roguifh  twinkling  look  the  gypfie  caft, 
For  much  fhe  wifhd  the  lemmans  part  t» 

play  ? 

Nathkffe  unheeding  on  his  way  he  paft,    [chaft. 
Ne  entered  in  his  heart,  or  wifh  or  thought  unr 

Right  plump   fhe  was,  and  ruddie  glowd  her 

cheek, ' 

Hereafie  \vaifte  in  milch-white  boddice  dight, 
Her  golden  locks  curlddown  her  fhoulders  fleek, 
And  halfe  her  bofome  heaving  met  the  fight, 
Whiles-gayly  fhe  accofts  the  fober  wight : 
Freedom  and  glee  blythe  fparkling  in  her  eye 

With  wanton  merrimake  fhe  trips  the  knight, 
And  round  the  younkling  makes  the  clover  fly : 
But  foon  he  flarten  up,  more  gamefome  by  and 
bye. 

I  ween,  quoth  fhe,  you  think  to  win  a  kifs, 
But  certes  you  fhall  woo  and  ftrive  in  vain. 

Faft  in  his  armes  he  caught  her  then  y  wis ; 
Yfere  they  fell ;  but  loud  and  angry  then 
Gan  fhe  of  fhame  and  haviour  vild  complain, 

While  bafhfully  the  weetleffe  boy  did  look  : 
With  cunning  fmyles  fhe  viewd  his  awkward 
pain ;  [took, 

The  fmyle  he  caught,  and  eke  new  courage 
And  Kathrin  then  a  kSs,  perdie,  didgentlie  brook. 


POEMS: 


FkSt  paft  the  months  ere  yet  the  giddy  boy 
One  thought  beftowd  on  what  would  furely 

be; 

But  well  his  aunt  perceivd  his  dangerous  toy, 
And  fore  (he  feard  herauncient  familie[gree: 
Should  now  be  ftaind  with  blood  of  bale  de- 
For  {both  to  tell,  her  liefeft  hearts  delight 

Was  (till  to  count  her  princely  pedigree, 
Through  barons  bold  all  up  to  Cadvvall  hight, 
Thence   up  to  Trojan  Brute  yfpruug  of  Venus 
bright. 

But,  zealous  to  forefend  her  gentle  race 

From  bafelie  matching  with  plebeian  bloud, 

Whole  nights  fhe  fchemd  to  ihonne  thilk  foull 

difgrace,  [vowd : 

And  Kathrin's  bale  in  wondrous  wrath  {he 

Yet  could  fhe  not  with  cunning  portaunce 

fhrouct, 
So  as  might  beft  fucceed  her  good  intent, 

But  clept  her  lemman  and  vild  flut  aloud ; 
That  foon  fhe  fhould  her  graceleffe  thewes  re 
pent,  [ft1611*- 
And  ftand  in  long  white  fheet  before  the  parfon 

So  fpzke  the  wizard,  and  his  hand  he  wav'd, 
And  prompt  the  fcenerie  rofe,  where  lifllefs 

lay 

The  knight  in  fhady  bowre,  by  ftreamlet  lavd, 
While  Philomela  fopth'd  the  parting  day  : 
Here  Kathrin  hiiri  approachd  with   features 

gay, 

And  all  her  ftore  of  blandifhments  and  wiles ; 
The  knight  was  touchd — but  {he  with  foft 

delay 

And  gentle  tears  ybleds  her  languid  fmiles, 
And  of  bale  falfitie  th*  enamourd  boy  reviles. 

Ama^d  the  boy  beheld  her  ready  teares,    . 
And,  faultring  oft,  exclaims  with  wondring 

ftare, 

\Vhat  mean  thefe  fighs  ?  difpell  thine  ydle  fears, 
And,  confident  in  me,  thy  griefes  declare. 
And  need,  quoth  {he,  rieed  I  my  heart  to 

bare, 

And  tellen  what  untold  well  knowne  mote  be  ? 
JLoft  is  my  friends  good-will,  my   mothers 

care— 

By  you  deferted — ah  !  unhappy  me ! 
Left  to   your   aunts  fell   fpight,    and    wreakfull 
cr.ueltie. 

My  aunt!   quoth  he,  forfooth  fhall  fhe  com 
mand  ? 

No  ;  fooner  fhall  yond  hill  forfake  his  place, 
He  laughing  faid,  and  wouid  have  caught  her 

hand  ; 

Her  hand  fhe  fhifted  to  her  blubbered  face 
With  prudifh  modeftie,  and  f<>bd    alas  ! 
Grant  me  your  bond,  or  elfe  on  yonder  tree 

Thefe  filken  garters,  pledge  of  thy  embrace, 
Ah,  welladay  !  fhall  hang  my  babe  and  me. 
And  everie  night  our  ghoftes  fhall  bring  all  hell 
to  thee. 

Ythrilld  with  horror  gapd  the  warelefs  wight, 
As  when,  aloft  on  well-ftored  cherrie-tree, 

The  thievifh  elfe  beholds  with  pale  affright 
The  gardner  near,  and  wects  not  where  to 
flee: 


And  will  my  bond  forefend  thilk  miferie  ? 
That  {halt  thou  have  ;  and  for  thy  peace  be- 
fide,  [be— 

What  mote  I  more  ?  Houfekeeper  {halt  thou 
An  awfnll  oath  forthwith  his  promife  tied, 
And  Kathrine  was  as  blythe  as  ever  blythefome 
bride. 

His  aunt  fell  fick  for  very  dole  to  fee          [pine 

Her  kindeft   counfels  fcornd,  and    fore  did 

To  think  what  well  fhe  knew  would  fhortly  be, 

Cadwallins  bloud  debasd  in  Kathrins  line ; 

For  very  dole  fhe  died.     Oh  fad  propine, 

Syr  knight,  for  all  that  care  which  me  did  take  ! 

How  many  a  night,  for  coughs  and  colds  of 

thine, 

Has  fhe  fat  up  rare  cordial  broths  to  make, 
And  cockerd  thee  fo  kind  with  manic  a  daintie 
cake  ! 

Soft  as  the  goffamer  in  fummer  {hades 

Extends  its  twinkling  line  from  fpray  to  fpray, 

Gently  as  fleep  the  weary  lids  invades, 
So  foft,  fo  gently  pleafure  mines  her  way : 
But  whether  will  the  fmiUng  fiend  betray, 

Ah,  let  the  knights  approaching  dayes  declare  ! 
Though  everie  bloome  and  flowre  of  buxuii 
May 

Beftrew  her  path,  to  defarts  cold  and  bare 
The  mazy  path  betrays  the  giddy  wight  unware. 

Ah  !  fays  the  wizard,  what  may  now  availe 

His  manlie  fenfe  that  faireft  bloflbms  bore, 
His  temper  gentle  as  the  whifpering  gale, 
His  native  goodneffe,  and  his  vertuous  lore  ! 
Now  through  his  veins,  all  uninflatnd  before, 
Th'  enchanted  cup  of  diflipatien  hight 

Has  fhedd,  with  fubtil  itealth,  through  everie 

pore, 

Its  giddy  poifon,  brewd  with  magicke  might, 
Each  budd  of  gentle  worth  and  better  thought  to 
blight. 

So  the  Canadian,  train'd  in  drery  wafles 
To  chace  the  foaming  bore  and  fallow  deer, 

At  firfh  the  trader's  beverage  fhylie  taftes ; 
But  foon  with  headlong  rage,  unfelt  whyleare, 
Inflamd  he  lulls  for  the  delirious  cheer  : 

So  barfls  the  boy  difdainful  of  reftrent 
Headlong  attonce  into  the  wylde  career 

Of  ioiitie,  vvith  all  his  mind  unbent,        [fpent- 
And  dull  and  yrkfome  hangs  ths  day  in  fports  un- 

No-v  fly  the  waffal  feafbns  wing  with  glee, 

Each  day  affords  a  floode  of  roring  joy  ; 
The  iprines  green  months  ycharmd  with  cock 
ing  flre, 

The  "jolly  horfe-race,  fummers  grand  empl6y, 
His  har  vefts  fports  the  foxe  and  hare  deftroy  ; 
But  the  fuUftantial  comforts  of  the  bowl 

Are  thine,  O  winter  !  thine  to  fire  the  boy 
With   EngUnds  c»ufc,  and  fwell  his  mightic 

foul, 
Till  dizzy  with  his  peres  about  the  flore  he  rowl. 

Now  round  his  dores  ynail'd  on  cloggs  of  wood 

Hangs  many  a  badgers  fnout  and  foxes  tail, 
The  which  had  he  through  many  a  hedge  per- 
few'd,  [and  delve,  and  dale  ; 

Through  marfh,  through  mecr,  dyke,  ditch, 
$  f  ij 


THE   WORKS      OF    MlCKLE. 


To  hear  his  hair-breadth  fcapes  would  make 

you  pale  ;  [late, 

Which  well  the  groome  height  Patrick  can  re- 

Whileas  on  holidays  he  quafl'i,  his  ale  ; 
And  not  one  circumftance  will  he  forgett, 
So  keen  the  braggard  chorle  is  on  his  hunting  fett. 

Now  on  the  turf  the  knight  with  fparkling  eyes 
Beholds   the   fpringing    racers     fwcep .  the 

ground  : 

Now  liglulie  by  the  poft  the  foremoft  flies, 
And  thondring  on,  the  ratling  hoofs  rebound  ; 
The  courfers  groan,  the  cracking  whips  re- 
found  : 
I        And  gliding  with  the  gale  they  rufh  along 

Right  to  the  ftand.  The  knight  flares  wildly 

round  , 

And  rifing  on  his  fell,  his  jocund  tongue 
Is  heard  above  the  noife  of  all  the  noifie  throng. 

While  thus  the  knight   perfewd  the  fhaddow 

j°y> 

As  youthly  fpirits  thoughtlefle  led  the  way, 
Her  gilden  baits,  ah,  gilded  to  decoy  ! 

Kathrine  did  eve  and  morn  before  him  lay, 

Watchfull  to  pleafe,  and  ever  kindlie  gay  ; 

Till,  like  a  thing  bewitchd,  the  carelefie  wight 

Refigns  himfelf  to  her  capricious  fway  : 
Then  foon,  perdie,  was  never  charme-bound 

fpright 
In  necromancers  thrall  in  halfe  fuch  pitteous  pligh't. 

Her  end  accomplifhd,  and  her  hopes  at  ftay, 
What   need  her   now,  fhe  recks,  one  fmyle 

beftov/ ; 

Each  care  to  pleafe  were  trouble  thrown  away, 
And  thirftleffe  wafte,  with  many  maxims  moe, 
As,  what  were  fhe  the  the  better  did  flic  fo  ? 
She  conns,  and  freely  fues  her  native  bent : 

Yet  ftill  can  fhe  to  guard  his  thraldom  know, 

Though  grim'd  with  ihuff  in  tawdrie  gown  fhe 

went,  [ment. 

Though  peevifh  ere  her  fpleen  and  rude  her  jolli- 

As  when  the  linnet  hails  the  balmie  morne, 

And  roving  through  the  trees  hismattin  fings, 
Lively  with  joy,  till  on  a  lucklefle  thorn 

He  lights,  where  to  hi?  feet  the  birdlime  clings ; 
Then  all  in  vain  he  flaps  his  gaudy  wings ; 
The  more  he  flutters  flill  the  more  foredone : 
So  fares  it  with  the  knight :  each  morning 

brings 

His  deeper  thrall ;  ne  can  he  brawling  fliun, 
For  Kathrin  was  his  thorne  and  birdlime  both  in 
in  one. 

Or,  when  atop  the  hoary  weftern  hill 

The  ruddie  funne  appears  to  reft  his  chin, 
When  not  a  breeze  dillurbs  the  murmuring  rill, 
And  mildlie  warm  the  falling  dewes  begin, 
The  gamefome  trout  then  {hows  her  fiiverie 

ikin, 
As  wantonly  beneath  the  wave  fhe  glides, 

Watching  the  buzzing  flies,  that  never  blin, 
Then,  dropt  with  pearle  and  golde,  difplays  her 
fides,  [divides. 

While  {he  with  frequent  leape  the  ruffled  ftreame 

Cft  the  green  banck  a  truant  fchoolboy  ftands ; 

Well  has  his  urchin  markt  her  mery  play, 
An  afhen  rod  obeys  his  guileful  hands, 

And  leads  the  mimick  fly  acrofs  her  way ; 


Afkaunce,  with  liftly  look  and  coy  delay, 
The  hungrie  trout  the  glitteraund  treachor  eye?, 
Semblaunt  of  life,  with  fpeckled  wings  fo  gay  ; 
Then,  flylie  nibbling,  prudifti  from  it  flies, 
Till  with  a  bouncing  llart  fhe  bites  the  truthlefa 
prize. 

Ah,  then  the  younker  gives  the  fatefull  twitch ; 

Struck  with  amaze  (he  feels  the  hook  ypight 

Dcepe  in  her  gills,  and,  plonging  where   the 

beech 

Shaddows  the  poole,fhe  runs  in  dread  affright; 
In  vain  the  deepeft  rocke  her  late  delight, 
In  vain  the  fedgy  nook  for  help  fhe  tries ; 
The  laughing  elfe  now  curbs,  now  aids  her 

flight, 

The  more  entangled  flill  the  more  me  flies, 
And  loon  amid  the  grafs  the  panting  captive  lies. 

Where  now,  ah  pity!  where  that  fprightly  play, 
That  wanton  bounding,  and  exulting  joy, 

That  lately  welcomd  the  retourning  ray, 

When  by  the  rivletts  banks,  with  bluflies  coy, 
April  walkd  forth — ah !  never  more  to  toy, 

In  purling  ftreame,  fhe  pants,  me  gafps,  and  dies ! 
Ah  me  !  how  like  the  fortune  of  the  boy, 

His  days  of  revel,  and  his  nights  of  noife 
Have  left  him  now  involvd,  his  lemman's  haplefie 
prize. 

See  now  the  changes  that  attend  her  fway ; 

The  park  where  rural  elegance  had  placed 
Her  fweete  retreat,  where  cunning  art  did  play 
Her  happieft  freaks,  that  nature  un  defaced 
Received  new  charmes;  ah,   fee,   how   foul 

difgraced 

No%v  lies  thilke  park  fo  fweetlie  wylde  afore ! 
Each  grove  and  bowery  walke  be  now  laid 
•  wafte  ; 

The  bowling-greene  has  loft  its  fhaven  flore, 
And  fnowd  with  wafhing  fuds  now  yawns  befidc 
the  dore. 

All  round  the  borders  where  the  panfie  blue, 

Crocus,  and  polyanthus  fpeckled  fine, 
And  daffodils  in  fayre  confufion  grew 

Emong  the  rcfe-bufh  roots  and  eglantine  ; 

Theft  now  their  place  to  cabbages  refign, 
And  tawdrie  p"eafe  fupply  the  lillys  ftead ; 

Rough  artichokes  now  briftle  where  the  vine 
Its  purple  clufters  round  the  windows  fpread, 
And  laifie  cucumbers  on  dung  reeline  the  head. 

The  fragrant  orchard,  once  the  furnmers  pride, 
Where  oft,  by  moonfhine,  on  thedaifiegreene, 
In  jovial  daunce,  or  tripping  fide  by  fide, 

Pomona  and  her  buxom  nymphs  were  feene  ; 

Or  where  tke  clear  canal  ftretchedoutatweene, 

Deftly  their  locks  with  bloflomes  would  they 

brede ; 

Or  refting  by  the  primerofe  hillocks  fheene, 
Beneath  the  apple  boughs  and  walnut  fhade, 
They  fung  their  loves  the  while  the  fruitage  gailj 
fpread : 

The  fragrant  orchard  at  her  dire  command 

In  all  the  pride  of  blofibme  ftrewd  the  plain  ; 
The  hillocks  gently  rifing  through  the  land 

Muft  now  no  trace  of  natures  fteps  retain; 

The  clear  canal,  the  mirrour  of  the  fwain, 
An4  bluifh  lake  no  more  adorn  the  greene, 

Two  durty  watering  ponds  alone  remain; 


POEMS. 


And  where  the  mofs-floord  filbert  bowres.had 

beene,  [cleane. 

Is  now  a  turnip  fielde  and  cow  yarde  nothing 

An  auncient  crone,  yclepd  by  houfewives  thrift, 

All  this  devifd  for  trim  oeconomie; 
But  certes,  ever  from  her  birth  bereft 
Of  elegance,  illfuts  her  title  high  : 
Coarfe  were  her  looks,  yet  fmoothe  her  cour- 

tefie, 
Hoyden  her  fhapes,  but  grave  was  her  attyre, 

And  ever  fixt  on  trifles  washer  eye  ; 
And  ftill  Ihe  plodden  round  the  kitchen  fire, 
To  fave  the  fmalleft  crombe  her  pleafure  and  de- 
fyre. 

Bow-bent  with  eld,  her  fteps  were  foft  and  flow, 

Faft  at  her  fide  a  bounch  of  keys  yhong, 
Dull  care  fat  brooding  on  her  jealous  brow, 
Sagacious  proverbs  dropping  from  her  tongue: 
Yet  fparing  though  fhe  beene  her  gueftes  e- 

mong, 

Ought  by  herfelfe  that  flie  mote  gormandife, 
The  foul  curmudgeon  would  have  that  ere 

long, 

And  hardly  could  her  witt  her  guft  fuffice ; 
Albee  in  varied  ftream,  ftill  was  it  covetife. 

Dear  was  the  kindlie  love  which  Kathrin  bore 

This  crooked  Ronion,  for  in  foothly  guife 
She  was  her  genius  and  her  counfellor : 
Now  cleanly  milking-pails  in  careful  wife 
Bedeck  each  room,  and  much  can  fhe  defpife 
The  Knights  complaints,  and  thriftleffe   judg 
ment  ill :  [buys, 
Eke  verfd  in  fales,  right  wondrous  cheap  fhe 
Parlour  and  bedrcom  too  her  bargains  fill; 
Though  ufelefs,  cheap  they  beene,  and  cheap  fhe 
purchafd  ftill. 

His  tenants  whilom  been  of  thriftie  kind, 

Did  like  to  fing  and  worken  all  the  day, 
At  feed  time  never  were  they  left  behind, 

And  at  the  harveft  feaft  ftill  firftdid  play; 

And  ever  at  the  terme  their  rents  did  pay, 
For  well  they  knew  to  guide  their  rural  geer : 

All  in  a  row,  yclad  in  homefpun  gray, 
They  marchd  to  church  each  Sunday  of  the  year, 
Their  imps  yode  on  afore,  the  carles  brought  up 
the  rear. 

Ah  happy  days !  but  now  no  longer  found  : 
No  more  with  focial  hofpitable  glee 

The  village  hearths  at  Chriftmas-cide  refotmd, 
No  more  the  Whitfon  gamboll  may  you  fee, 
Nor  morricc-daunce,  nor  May  daye  jollitie 

When  the  blythe  may  dens  foot  the  deawy  green; 
But  now,  in  place,  heart-finking  penurie 

And  hopelefle  care  on  every  face  is  feen, 
As  thefe  the  drery  times  of  curfeu  bell  had  been. 

For  everie  while,  with  thief-like  lounging  pace, 

And  dark  of  look,  a  tawdrie  villain  came, 
Muttering  fome  words  with   fcrious-meaning 
face,  [name ; 

And  on  the  church  dore  he  would  fix  their 
Then,  nolens  volens,  they  muft  heed  the  fame, 
And  quight  thofe  fieldes  their  yeomen  grand- 
fires  plowd 

£er  fince  black  Edwards  days,  •when,  crownd 
With  fame, 


From   Creflie  field  the  knights  old   grandfire 

prowd  [allowd. 

Led  home  his  yeomandrie,  and  each  his   glebe 

But  now  the  orphan  fees  his  harveft  fielde 

Beneath  the  gripe  of  laws  ftern  rapine  fall, 
The  friendlefle  widow,  from  her  hearth  erpelld, 
Withdraws  to  fome  poor  hutt  with  earthen 

wall: 

And  thefe,  perdie,  were  Kathrins  proje&s  all ; 
For,  footh  to  tell,  grievd  was  the  Knight  full 

lore 

Such  finful  deeds  to  fee :  yet  fuch  his  thrall, 
Though  he  had  pledged  his  troth,  yet  nathemore 
It  mote  he  keep,  except  fhe  willd  the  fame  before. 

Oh  wondrous  powre  of  womans  wily  art, 

What  for  thy  witchcraft  too  fecurd  may  be ! 
Not  Circes  cup  may  fo  transform  the  heart, 
Or  bend  the  will,  fallacious  powre,  like  thee; 
Lo,  manly  fenfe,  of  princely  dignitie, 
Witchd  by  thy  fpells,  thy  crowching  Have  is 
feen;  [knee, 

Lo,  high-browd  honour  bends  the  groveling 
And  every  bravei't  virtue,  footh  I  ween, 
Seems  like  a  blighted  flowre  of  dank  unlovely 
mien. 

Ne  may  grim  Saracene,  nor  Tartar  man, 

Such  ruthleffe  bondage  on  his  flave  impofe, 
As  Kathrin  on  the  Knight  full  deffly  can  ; 
Ne  may  the  Knight  cfcape,  or  cure  his  woes: 
As  he  who  dreams  he  climbs  fome  mountains 

brows, 

With  painfulftrugglingupthefteep  height  ftrains, 
Anxious  he  pants  and  toils,  but  ftrength  fore 
goes 

His  feeble  limbs,  and  not  a  ftep  he  gains ; 
So  toils  the  powrelcffe  Knight  beneath  his  fervile 
chains. 

His  lawyer  now  afiumes  the  guardians  place; 
Learn'd  was  thilk  clerk  in  deeds,  and  puffing 

flie; 

Slow  was  his  fpeeche,  and  folemn'  was  his  face 
As  that  grave  bird  which  Athens  rankt  ib  high 

Pk'afd  dullnefs  bafking  in  his  gloflle  eye, 
The  fmyle  would  oft  fteal  through  his  native 

phlegm ; 

And  well  he  guards  Syr  Martyns  propertie, 
Till  not  one  pcafant  dares  invade  the  game : 
But  certes,  fevcn  yeares  rent  was  foon  his  own  juft 
claim. 

Now  mortgage  follows  mortgage :  Cold  delay 
Still  yawns  on  everie  long  depending  cafe. 

TheKnightsgaybloomc  the  while  flidfaftaway; 
Kathrin  the  while  broughtbantlingimpsapace, 
While  everie  day  renews  his  vile  difgrace, 

And  ftraitcns  ftill  the  more  his  galling  thrall : 
See  nowwhat  fceneshibhoufholdhoursdebafej 

And  rile  fucceflive  in  his  chcerlefle  hall.      [call. 
80  fpake  the  feer,  and  prompt  the  fcene  obcyd  hig 

See,  quoth  the  wizard,  how  with  folteringmien, 

And  difcompofd  yon  ftranger  he  receives ; 
Lo,  how  with  lulkie  look,  and  moapt  with  fpleen, 

His  frowning  miftrefle  to  his  friend  behaves; 

In  vairi  he  nods,  in  vain  his  hand  he  waves, 
Ne  will  fiie  heed,  ne  will  fhe  lign  obay; 

Nor  corner  dark  his  awkward  bluflies  favej, 
Sf  iij 


646 


THE    WORKS   OF   MICKLE. 


Ne  may  the  hearty  laugh,  ne  features  gay  : 
The  hearty  laugh,  perdie,  does  but  his  pain  betray. 

A  worthy  wight  his  friend  was  ever  known, 

Some  generous  caufe  did  ftill  his  lips  infpire  ; 
He  begs  the  Knight  by  friendfhips  long  agone 
To  fhelter  from  his  lawyers  cruel  ire 
An  auncient  hinde,  arounde  whofe  cheerleffe 

fire 

Sat  grief  and  pale  difeafe.  The  poor  manswrong 

Affeds  the  Knight :  his  inmoft  hearts  deiire 

Gleams  through  his  eyes ;  yet  all  confufd,  and 

flung  [tongue 

With  inward  pain  he  looks,  and  filence  guards  his 

See,  while  his  friend  entreats  and  urges  ftill, 

See,  how  with  fidelong  gkiuncc  and  havionr 

fhy 
He  fteals  the  look  to  read  his  lemmans  will, 

Watchfull  the  dawn  of  an  affent  fo  fpy. 

Look  as  he  will,  yet  will  fhe  not  comply. 
His  friend  withfcorn  beholds  his  awkward  pain: 

From  him  even  pity  turns  her  tear-dewd  eye, 
And  hardlie  can  the  burfting  laugh  reftrain, 
While  manlie  honour  frowns  on  hjsunmanlieflain. 

Let  other  fcenes  now  rife,  the  wizard  faid  : 

He  vvavd  his  hand,  and  other  fcenes  arofe. 
See  there,  quoth  he,  the  Knight  fupinely  laid 
Invokes  the  houfehold  hours  of  learnd  repofe ; 
An  auncient  long  its  manly  joys  beftows  : 
The  melting  paffion  of  the  Nutt-brown  Mayde 
Glides   through   his  breaft ;   his   wandering 

fancy  glows, 

Till  into  wildeft  reveries  betrayd, 
He  hears  th'  imagin'd  faire,  and  wooes  the  lovely 
fhade. 

Tranfported  he  repeats  her  conftant  vow, 

How  to  the  green  wode  {hade,  betide  whateer, 

She  with  her  banifhed  love  would  fearleffe  goe, 

And  fweet  would  be  with  him  the  hardeft 

cheer.  [fincere 

Oh   heaven!  he.fighs,  what  bleffmgs  dwell 

In  love  like  this  ! — But  inftant  as  he  Cgh'd, 

Burfting  into  the  room,  loud  in  his  ear 
His  lemman  thonders,  Ah  !  fell  dole  betide 
T  he  girl  that  trufts  in  man  before  fhe  bees  his 
bride ! 

And  muft  fome  lemman  of  a  whiffling  fong 
Delight  your  fancy     fhe  difdainful  cries ; 
When  ftrait  her  imps  all  brawling  round  her 
throng,  [plies : 

And,  bleardwith  teares,  each  for  revenge  ap- 
Him  chief  in  fpleene  the  father  means  chaftife, 
But  from  his  kindlie  hand  fhe  faves  him  Hill ; 

Yet  for  no  fault,  anon,  in  furious  wife 
Yon  yellow  elfe  fhc  little  fpares  to  kill ; 
And  then,  next  breath,  does  all  to  coax  his  flub- 
born  will. 

Pale  as  the  ghofte  that  by  the  gleaming  moon 

Withdraws  the  curtain  of  the  murderers  bed, 
So  pale  and  cold  at  heart,  as  halte  afwoon 

The  Knight  flares  round ;  yet  good  nor  bad 
he  fed. 

Alas  !  though  trembling  anguifh  inward  bled, 
His  beft  refolve  foon  as  a  meteor  dies  :  [fled, 

His  ptcfent  peace  and  cafe  mote  chance  have 


He  deems  ;  and  yielding,  looks  moft  wondrou  3 
wife,  .  [guife. 

As  from  himfelf  he  hopd  his  grief  and  fhame  dil- 
Woe  to  the  wight  whofe  hated  home  no  more 

The  hallowd  temple  of  Content  may  be  ! 
While  now  his  days  abroad  with  grpomes  he 

wore, 

His  miftreffe  with  her  liefcft  companie, 
A  rude  unlettered  herd !  with  deareft  glee, 
Enjoys  each  whiiper  of  her  neighbours  fhame  ; 

Ai;c  ftili  anon  the  flafk  of  ratafie 
Improves  their  tales,  till  certts  not  a  name 
Efcapes  their  blafhng  tongue,  or  goody,  wench,  or 
dame.    * 

One  evening  tide  as  with  her  crones  fhe  fate, 
Making  fweete  foiace  of  fome  fcandall  new, 
A  boiftrous  noif'c  came  thondring  at  the  gate, 
'        And  foon  a  flurdy  boy  approachd  intiew  ; 

•  Wkh  gold  far  glitteraund  were  his  veftments 
And  pyerfhapd  hat,  and  of  the  filver  fheen  [blue 

An  huge  broad  buckle  glauncd  in  either  {hoe, 
And  round  his  neck  an  India  kerchiefe  clean, 
And  in  his  hand  a  fw  itch :  a  jolly  wight  I  ween. 

Farre  fead  he  faild,  and  roamd  the  foamy  deepe, 

Where  rucidie  Phoebus  flacks  his  firie  team,; 
(With  burning  goide  then  flames  th'  ethereal 

fteepe, 

And  Oc<  ans  waves  like  molten  filver  feem) 
Ekehad  he  feen,  withaiamondglittcringbeam, 
The  ftarre  of  morn  awake  the  lofeate  day, 

While  yet  beneath  the  moon  old  Nilus  ftream 
Pale  through  the  land  rtflecl*  the  gleamy  ray, 
As  through  the  midnight  flcyes  appeares  tht  milky 

way. 

Through  the  Columbian  world,  and  verdant  iles 

Unknown  to  Carthage,  had  he  frequent  fped, 

Eke  had  he  becne  where  flowry  fommer  fmiles 

At  Chriftmas  tide,  where  other  heavens  are 

fpred, 

Belprent  with  ftarres  that  Newton  rever  red, 
Where  in  the  North  the  fun  of  noone  is  feen : 

•Wherever  Hannos  bold  ambitkn  led, 
Wherever  Gama  faild,  there  had  he  beene, 
Gama  *,  the  dearling*  care  of  Beautys  heavenly 
queene. 

Eke  had  he  plied  the  rivers  and  the  coaft  [guide ; 
Where  bold  Nearch  young  Ammons  fleet  did 
A  taflc  fo  dred  the  world-fubduing  hoft 
Could  not  another  for  fuch  feats  provide  : 
And  often  had  he  feen  that  ocean  wide, 
Which  to  his  wearie  bands  thilke  youth  did  fay, 
None  but  th'  immortal  gods  had  ever  fpy'd; 
Which  fight,  quoth  he,  will  all  your  toilsrepay: 
That  none  mote  fee  it  more  als  he  the  gods  did 

pray  f/ 
Through  thefe  outlandifh  fhores  and  oceans  dire 

1  or  ten  long  feaions  did  the  younkiing  toil, 
Through  flormes,  through  tempefls,  and  the 

battels  fire, 

Through  cold,  through  heat,  cheerd  by  the 
hope  the  while 

*  See  the  Lujtad. 

f  For  tbisjpeecbto  bis  army,  and  prayer  of  Alex* 
andcr,  fee  ^  Curtiui. 


POEMS. 


64? 


Of  yet  revifiting  his  natal  foil : 
And  oft,  when  flying  in  the  monfoon  gale, 

By  /Ethiopias  coatt  or  Javas  ile, 
When  glauncing  over  Oceans  bofom  pale, 
The  fhip  hung  on  the  winds  with  broad  and  flea- 
die  fail : 

Hung  on  the  winds  as  from  his  ayrie  flight, 
With  wide-fpred  wing  unmovd,  the   eagle 

bends, 

-When,  on  old  Snowdons  brow  prepard  to  light, 
Sailing  the  liquid  flcye  he  fheer  delcends : 
Thus  oft,  when  roving  farre  as  wave  extends, 
The  fcenes  of  protnift  blifs  would  warm  the  boy; 
To  meet  his  brother  with  each  wifh  yblends, 
And  friendfhips  glowing  hopes  each   thought 

employ ; 
And  now  at  home  arrivd  his  heart  dilates  with  joy. 

Around  the  meadows  and  the  park  he  looks, 
To  fpy  the  ftreamlett  or  the  elm-tree  {hade, 

Where  oft  at  eve,  beneath  the  cawing  rooks, 
He  with  his  feres  in  merry  childhoode  playd  : 
But  all  was  chang'd  ! — Unweetingly  difmayd 

A  cold  foreboding  impulfe  thrills  his  breaft ; 
And  who  but  Kathrin  now  is  dearnly  frayd 

When  entering  in  fhe  kens  the  ftranger  gueft  : 
Then  with  fad  mien  fhe  rofe,  and  kindhe  him 
embraft. 

Great  marvell  at  her  folemn  cheer  he  made ; 

Then,  fobbing  deepe,  Glad  will  Syr  Martyn  be, 
Faire  Syr,  of  your  letourne,  /he  gently  faid; 
But  what  miftap  !  our  infant  familie, 
The  deareft  babes,  though  they  were  nought 

to  me, 
That  ever  breathd,  are  laid  in  deadlie  plight : 

What  fballwe  do '. — great  were  your  courtefie 
To  lodge  in  yonder  tenant's  houfe  to  night ; 
The  fkilfull  leache  forbids  that  noife  my  babes 
ihould  fright. 

Blunt  was  the  boy,  and  to  the  farme-houfe  nigh 

To  wait  his  brother,  at  her  bidding  fares, 
Conducted  by  a  goflip  pert  and  fly  : 

Kathrin  the  while  her  malengines  prepares. 

Now  gan  the  dufke  fufpend  the  plowmans 

cares, 
When  from  his  rural  fportes  arrives  the  Knight ; 

Soon  with  his  mates  the  jovial  bowl  he  lhares, 
His  hall  refounds  ! — amazd  the  ftranger  wight 
Arreads  it  all  as  done  to  him  in  fell  dclpight. 

Late  was  the  hourewhcnas  the  Knight  was  tould 

Of  ftranger  gueft ;  Go,  bid  him  welcome  here ; 
What  fecks  he  there  ?  quoth  he,  Perdie,  what 
would 

You  leek  ?  fays  to  the  boy  the  meffenger. 

To  fte  the  Knight,  quoth  he,  I  but  rcquere. 
Syr  Knight,  hi-  fcorncs  to  come  ;  the  fervant  faid. 

Go  bid  him  llill  quoth  he,  to  welcome  cheer  -. 

But  all  contrarywife  the  faytor  made,         [fed : 

Till  rage  enflamd  the  boy  ;  and  ftill  his  rage  they 

Your  brother,  quoth  the  hoftefle,  foon  will  wafte 

His  fair  eflate;  and  certes,  well  I  read, 
He  weens  to  hold  your  patrimonie  faft. 

Next  morne  a  lawyer  been  ybrought  with 

fpecd, 

And  wife  he  lookt,  and  wifely  fhook  his  hede. 
Him  now  impowrd,  the  youth  with  rage  yblent 
Vows  never  to  retourne;  then  mounts  his 
fleed,  > 


And  leaves  the  place  in  fancy  hugely  fhent 
All  which  to  Kathrins  mind  gave  wondrous  great 
content. 

CANTO  II. 

In  mufefull  ftownd  Syr  Martyn  rews 
His  youthhedes  thoughtleflt  ftage ; 

But  diflipation  haunts  him  to 
The  bioflbmes  of  old  age. 

WITH  gracefull  paufe  awhile  the  wizard  ftood. 

Then  thus  refumd, — As  he  whofe  homeward 

way  [wood; 

Lies  through  the   windings  of  feme    verdant 

.    Through  many  a  mazy  turn  and  arbour  gay 

He  fues  the  flowery  fteps  of  jollie  May, 
While  through  the  openings  many  a  lawnfkepe 

new 

Burfts  on  his  fight ;  yet,  never  once  aftray, 
Still  home  he  wends :  fo  we  our  theme  purlue, 
Through  many  a  bank  and  bowre  clofe  following 
ftill  our  cue. 

Sootlid  by  the  murmurs  of  a  plaintive  ftreame, 

A  wyld  romantick  dell  its  fragrance  fhed ; 

Safe   from  the  thonder  fhowre  and  fcorching 

beame  [plaid ; 

Their  faerie  charmes  the  fummer  bowres  dif- 

Wyld   by  the  bancks  the    bafhfull  cowflips 

fpread, 
And  from  the  rock  abeve  each  ivied  feat 

The  fpotted  foxgloves  hung  the  purple  head, 
And  lowlie  vilets  kift  the  wanderers  feet : 
Sure  never  Hyblas  bees-  rovd  through  a  wild  fo 
fweet. 

As  winds  the  ftreamlett  ferpentine  along, 

So  leads  a  folemn  walk  its  bowry  way, 
The  pale-leaved  palms  and  darker  limes  among, 
To  where  a  grotto  lone  and  fecret  lay  ; 
The  yellow   broome,  where  chirp  the  linnets 
gay,  [fkyes 

Waves  round  the  cave ;  and  to  the  blue-ftreakd 
A  fhatterd  rock  towres  up  in  fragments  gray: 
The  ftiee  goat  from  its  height  the  krafkepe  eyes, 
And  calls  her  wanderd  young,  the  call  each  banck 
replies. 

Here  oft  the  knight  had  paft  the  fommers  morne 
What  time  the  wondering  boy  to  manhoott 

rofe, 

When  fancy  firft  her  lanfkepes  gan  adorns, 
And  reafons  folded  budds  their  flowres  dif- 

clofe, 
What  time  young  tranfport  through  the  fpi- 

rits  flows  , 

When  nature  fmyles  with  charmes  unfeen  be* 

fore, 

When  with  unwonted  hopes  the  boflbme  glows, 

While  wingd  with  whirlwind  ipeed  the  thoughts 

explore  [itore. 

The  endieffc  wylde  of  joys  that  youth  beholds  in 

.  The  dryads  of  the  place,  that  nurft  the  flowres* 

And  hung  the  dew-drop  in  the  hyacinths  bell. 

For  him  employd  their  virtue  breathing  powrcs, 

And  Cambrias  genius  bade  his  worth  excel). 

His  youthfull  breaft  confeft    the   wondroui 

fpcll; 

His  generous  temper  warmd  with  fayre  defign, 
The  friend  and  patriot  now  hi*  bofome  lwcU» 
S  1  iiij 


THE  WORKS   OF   MICKLE. 


The  lover  and  the  father  now  combine,     [join. 
And  fmyling  vifions  form,  where  blifs  and  honour 

Of  thefe  loved  foothings  this  the  loved  retreat 
Muft  now  no  more  with  dreams  of  blifs  de 
coy  ; 

Yet  here  he  liken  ftill  himfelf  to  meet,  [employ  : 
Though  woes,  a  gloomy  train,  his  thoughts 
Oh  loft  to  peace,  he  fighs,  unhappy  boy  ! 

Oh  loft  to  every  worth  that  life  adorns  !— » 
Oh  loft  to  peace,  to  elegance,  and  joy  ! 

The  aerial  genius  of  the  cave  returns,  [mourns. 
Whiles  in  the  bubbling  rill  the  plaintive  naiadc 

Thus  as  he  fpake  the  magic  lawnfkepe  rofe, 

The  dell,  the  grotto',  and  the  broom  clad  hill; 

See,  quoth  the  wizard,  where  the  knight  beftows 

An  houre  to  thought  and  reafon's  wliifpers 

ftill; 

Whiles,  as  a  nightly  vifion  boding  ill, 
Seen  with  pale   glymps   by  lonely  wandering 

fwayne, 

Truth,  gleaming  through  the  fogs  of  biaft  will, 
Frowns  on  him  fterne,  and  honcft  fhame  gins 

fayne 
In  her  reflective  glafs  his  life's  ignoble  ftraine. 

His  earlie  hopes  fhe  fhews  and  fhews  againe ; 

How  oft  haft  thou,  fhe  cries,  indignant  viewd 
The  titled  cypher  and  his  folemn  traine, 

The  bufie  face,  and  dull  folicitude, 

That,  ever  plodding  in  important  mood, 
Has  not  a  foul  to  reach  one  noble  aim,      [dewd 

Nor  foul,  nor  wifh — whofe  vacant  mind  en- 
With  not  one  talent,  yet  would  lewdly  claim 
For  his  vile  leaden  buft  the  facrcd  wreath  of  fame: 

Who  to  the  patrons  lawrells  would  afpire, 

By  labouring  in  ths  Britifh  clime  to  rear 
Thofe  arts  that  quencht  prowd  Jlomes  patrician 
fire,  [fpear; 

And  bowd  her  prone  beneath  the   Gothick 
Illuftrious  cares !  befitting  patriot  peer ! 
Italian  fing-fong  and  the  eunuchs  fquall ! 

Such  arts  as  foothd  the  bafe  unmanly  ear 
Of  Greece  and  Perfia  bending  to  their  fall ; 
When  freedome   bled    unwept,    and  fcorne  was 
glorys  call. 

While  thefe  thy  breaft  with  fcorne  indignan 

fird, 

What  other  views  before  thee  would  difclofe 
As  fancy  painted  and  thy  wifh  infpird,      [rofe 
What  glorious  fcenes  beneath  thy  {hades  a 
Britannias  gardens  here  difpell  her  woes, 
Forming  her  laws,  her  artes,  with  godlike  toil ; 
There  Albion,  fmyling  on  her  learnd  repofe, 
Sees  manly  genius  in  ther  influence  fmije, 
And  fpread  the  hallowd  ftreames  of  virtue  roun 
the  ile. 

How  bleft,  ah  Heaven  !  fuch  felfe-approvin 

houres, 

Such  views  ftill  opening,  ftill  extending  highe: 
Cares  whence  the  ftate  derives  it?  firmeft  pewre; 
And  fcenes  where  friendship  fheds  his  pure 
fire  ?  [pjr 

And  did,  ah  fhame  !  thefe  hopes  in  vain  ex 
A  morning  dreame  !— As  lorn  the  fpendthr 
ftands,  rflj 

Who  fees  the  fieldcs  bequeathd  him  by  his 


His  own  no  more,  now  reapt  by  ftrangers  hands ; 
o  languid  muft  I  view  faire  honours  icrt'le  kinds. 
Silence  would  then  enfue  ;  perhaps  reclind 

On  the  greene  margin  of  the  ftrc:tme  he  lay, 
While  foftlie  ftealing  on  his  languid  mind 
Th'  ideal  fcene  would  hold  a  moments  fway, 
And  the  domeftick  houre  all  fmyl.-s  difplay, 
Where  fixt  cfteeme  the  fond  dilcourfe  infpiics: 
Now  through    his    heart    would    glide   the 

fprightlie  ray 

Where  married  love  bids  light  his  pureft  fires, 
Where  elegance  prefides,  and  wakes  the  young 

defires. 
Strait  to  his  brawling  lemman  turns  his  mind ; 

Shockd  he  beholds  the  odious  colours  rife, 
Where  felfifhneffe,  low  pride  and  fpleen  corn- 
bind, 

Bid  every  anguifhd  thought  his  mate  defpifa, 
His  mate  unformd  for  fweet  affections  ties : 
Grovling,  indelicate— Stung  to  the  heart 
His  indignation  heaves  in  ftifled  fighs; 
But  foon  his  paffion  burfts  with  fuddein  ftart : 
rlis  children  ftrike  his  thoughts  with  lively  pier- 

fant  fmart. 
The  mothers  bafneffe  in  their  deeds  he  fees, 

And  all  the  wounded  father  fwellshis  breaft : 
Suddein  ha  leaves  the  cave  and  mantling  trees, 
And  up  the  furzie  hill  his  footfteps  hafte, 
While  fullenly  he  foothcs  his  foul  to  reft  : 
Meantime  the  opening  profpecl  wide  he  gains, 
Where,  crownd    with   oake,    with   meadow 

flow  res  ydreft, 

His  Britifh  chaplet,  buxom  fummer  reigns, 
And  waves  his  mantle  greene  farre  round  the  fmy 
ling  plains. 

Still  as  he  flow  afcends,  the  bounteous  farms, 
And  old  grey  towres  of  rural  churches  rife, 
The  fields  ftill  lengthening  fhew  their  crowded 

charms 

In  fayre  perfpe&ive  and  in  richeft  guife  : 
His  fweeping  fcythe  the  white-fleevd  mower 

plies, 
The  plowman  through  the  fallow  guides  his 

teame, 

Acrofle  the  wheaten  fielde  the  milkmayde  hies, 
To  where  the  kine,  foreby  the  reedy  ftreame, 
With  frequent  lowc  to  plaine  of  their  full  udders 
feeme. 

See,  now  the  knight  arrives  where  erft  an  oak 
Dan  JEoh  bluftering  ftormes  did  long  repell, 

Till  witchd  it  was,  when  by  an  headlong  fhock, 
As  the  hoar  fathers  of  the  village  tell, 
With  horrid  crafh  on  All  Saints  eve  it  fell : 

But  from  its  trunk  foon  fprouting  faplings  rofe, 
And  round  the  parent  ftock  did  fhadowy  fwell; 

Now,  aged  trees,  they  bend  their  twifted  boughs, 
And  by  their  mofs-greene  roots  invite  the  fwains 
repofe. 

Here  on  a  bending  knare  he  penfive  leans, 
And  r«und  the  various  lawnfkepe  range  hia 
eyes : 

There  ftretch  the  corny  fieldes  in  various  greens, 
Farre  as  the  fight :  there,  to  the  peaceful  fkyes 
The  darkning  pines  and  dewy  poplars  rife  : 

Behind  the  wood  a  dark  and  heathy  lea, 
With  Iheep  faire  fpotted,  farre  extendec 


POEMS. 


649 


With  here  and  there  a  lonlie  bbfted  tree ; 
And  from  between  two  hills  appears  the  duikie  fea. 

Bright  through  the  fleeting  clouds  the  funny  ray 
Shifts  o'er  the  fields,  now  glids  the  woody 

dale, 

The  flocks  now  whitten,  now  the  ocean  bay 
Beneath  the  radiance  gliftens  clear  and  pale  ; 
And  white  from  farre  appears  the  frequent  fail, 
By  traffic  fpread.     Moord  where  the  land  di 
vides, 

The  Britifh  red-crofs  waving  in  the  gale, 

Hulky  and  black,  a  gallant  warre  fhip  rides, 

And  over  the  greene  wave  with  lordly  port  prefides. 

Fist  on  the  bulwark  of  the  Britifh  powre     [air ; 

Long  gazd  the  knight,  with  fretful  languid 
Then  thus,  indulging  the  refltdtive  houre, 

Pours  forth  his  foul;  Oh,  glorious  happy  care  ! 

To  bid  Britanias  navies  greatly  dare, 
And  through  the  vaffal  feas  triumphant  reign, 

To  either  India  waft  victorious  warre, 
To  join  the  Poles  in  trades  unbounded  chain, 
And  bid  the  Britifh  throne  the  mighty  whole  fu- 
ftain. 

With  what  fuperiour  luftre  and  command 

May  ftedfaft  zeal  in  Albion's  fenate  fhine  ! 
What  glorious  lawrells  court  the  patriots  hand  ! 
How  bafe  the  hand  that  can  fuch  meed  de 
cline  !  [mine  ? 
And  was,  kind  fate !  jto  fnatch  thefe  honours 
Yes  !  greene  they  fpred,  and  faire  they  bloomd 

for  me ; 

Thy  birth  and  duty  hade  the  chief  be  thine  ; 
Oh  loft,  vain  trifler,  loft  in  each  degree  ! 
Thy  country  never  turnd  her  hopefull  eyes  on  thee 

Yet,  how  the  fielde  of  worth  luxurious  fmiles! 
Nor  Africk  yields,  nor  Chilys  earth  contains 
Such  funds  of  wealth  as  crown  the  plowmans 

toils, 

And  tiiige  with  waving  gold  Britannias  plains ; 

Even  on  her  mountains  cheerful  plenty  reigns, 

And  wildly  grand  her  fleecy  wardrope  fpreads. 

What  noble  meed  the  honeft  ftatcfman  gains, 

Who  through  thefe  publique  nerves  new  vigour 

fheds, 
And  bids  the  ufeful  artes  exalt  their  drooping  heads: 

Who,  founding  on  the  plough  and  humble  loomc 

His  countrys  greatneffe,  lees,  on  every  tide, 
Her  fleets  the  umpire  of  the  world  affume, 
And  fpread  her  juftice  as  her  glories  wide— 
Oh  wonder  of  the  world,  and  faireft  pride, 
Britannias  fleet !  how  long  {hall  pity  mourn 
And  ftain  thy  honours !  from  his  weeping 

bride 

And  ftarving  babes,  how  long  inhuman  torn 
Shall  the  hold  failor  mount  thy  decks  with  heart 
forlorn ! 

Forlorn  with  finking  heart  his  tafk  he  plies, 
His  brides  diftrefle  his  reftleffe  fancy  feees, 
And  fixing  on  the  land  his  earned  eyes, 
Cold  is  his  breaft  and  faint  his  manly  knees. 
Ah  !  hither  turn,  ye  fons  of  courtlie  eafe, 
And  let  the  brave  mans  wrongs,  let  interefl 

plead : 

Say,  while  his  arme  his  countrys  fate  decree*, 
4 


Say,  fliall  a  fathers  anguifti  be  his  meed ; 
His  wrongs    unnerve   his  foul,  and   blight  each 
mighty  deed  ? 

Whatever  party  boafls  thy  glorious  name, 

O  thou  rcfervd  by  Heavens  benign  decree 
To  blaft  thofe  arts  that  quench  the  Britifh  flame, 

And  bid  the  meaneft  of  the  land  be  free; 

Oh,  much  humanity  fliall  owe  to  thee  ! 
And  dall  that  palm  unenvyd  ftill  remain  I 

And  hear,  ye  lordlings,  each  feveritie, 
And  every  woe  the  labouring  tribes  fuftain, 
Upbraids  the  man  of  powre,  and  dims  his  honours 
vain. 

While  thus  the  knights  long  fmotherd  fires  broke 

forth, 

The  roufmg  muficke  of  the  home  he  hears 

Shrill  echoing  through  the  wold ;  and  by  the 

north  [pears ; 

Where  bends  the  hill,  the  founding  chace  ap- 

The  hounds  with  glorious  peal  falute  ius  ears, 

And  wood  and  dale  rebound  the  fwellii/^  lay;  ^ 

The  youths  on  courfers  fleet  as  fallow°deers 
Pour  through  the  downs,  while,  foremoft  of  the 
fray ;  [Away ! 

Away  !  the  jolly  huntfman  cries;  and  echoe  founds, 

•  Now  ban  the  beagles  fcourd  the  bufhy  ground, 
Till  where  a  brooke  flrays  hollow  through 

the  bent, 

When  all  confufd,  and  fnuffing  wyldlie  round, 
In  vain  their  fretfull  hafle  explord  the  fcent : 
But  Reynards  cunning  all  in  vain  was  fpcnt ; 
The    huntfman  from   his   ftand  his   arts  had 

fpyd, 

Had  markt  his  doublings  and  his  ^hrewd  in 
tent,  [plyd 
How  both  the  bancks  he  trac'd,  then  backward 
His  track  fome  t wentie  roods,  then  bounding  fprong 
afide. 

Eke  had  he  markt  where  to  the  broome  he  crept, 
Where,  barkening  everie  found,  an  hare  waj 
laid; 

Then  from  the  thickeft  bufh  he  flylie  lept, 
And  wary  feuds  along  the  hawthorne  fhade. 
Till  by  the  hills  flant  foot  he  earths  his  head 

Amid  a  brnrie  thicket .  Emblem  meet 
Of  wylie  ftatefman  of  his  foes  adred ; 

He  oft  mifguides  the  peoples  rage,  I  weet, 
On  others,  whilft  himfelf  winds  off  with  flie  deceit 

The  cunning  huntfman  now  cheers  on  his  pack, 

The  lurking  hare  is  in  an  inftant  flain  : 
Then  opening  loud,  the  beagles  fcent  the  track 
Right  to  the  hill ;  while  thondring  through 

the  plain 

With  blythe  huzzas  ad  vaunce  the  jo  vial  train: 
And  now  the  groomes  and  fquires,  cowherds  and 

boys, 

Beat  round  and  round  the  brake ;  but  all  in 
vain  [noife, 

Their  poles  they  ply,  and  vain  their  oathes  and 
Till  plonging  in  his  den  the  terrier  fiercely  joys. 

Expelld  his  hole,  upftarts  to  open  flcy 

The  villain  bold,  and  wildly  glares  around  ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  he  bends  his  knees  to 

fly, 
As  oft  recoils  to  guard  from  backward  wound, 


THE  WORKS  OF  MICKLE. 


Hisfrothiejiwshe  grinds — with  horrid  found 
j  The  pack  attonce  rufh  on  him  :  foming  ire, 
Fierce  at  his  tlirote  and  iides  hangs  many  a 

hound ; 

His  burning  eyes  flafh  wylde  red  fparckling  fire, 
Whiles  writring   on  the  1'waird  his  breath  and 
ftrcngth  expire. 

Straight  to  Syr  Martyns  hall  the  hunters  bend, 
The  knight  perceives  it  from  his  cak-crownd 

hill, 

Down  the  fteep  furzic  height  he  flow  gan  wer.d, 
r        With   troublous  thoughts    keen  ruminating 

ftill; 

"While  grief  and  fhame  by  turns  his  bofom  fill. 
Andnow,pcrchd  prowdiie  on  the  topmoii:  fpray, 
The  footie  blackbird  chaunts  his  vefpccs  fhriil ; 
While  twilight  Ipreads  his  robe  of  fobcr  grey, 
And  to  their  bowies  the  rooks  loud  cawing  wing 
their  way : 

And  bright  behind   the    Cambrian  mountains 
hore  [ea^ 

Flames  the  red  beam;  while  on  the  diftant 
Led  by  her  ftarre,  the  horned  meone  looks  o'er 
The  bending  foreft,  and  with  rays  increaft 
Afcends;  while  trembling  on  the  dappled  weft 
The  purple  radiance  fhifts  and  dies  away; 
The  willows  with  a  deeper  green  impreft 
Nod  o'er  the  brooks ;  the  brooks  with  gleamy 
ray  [fway. 

6lide  on,  and  holy  peace  aflumes  her  woodland 

AH  was  repofe,  all  but  Syr  Ma^tyns  breft  5 

There,  paffions  tearing  gufts  tempeftuous  rife. 

Are  thefe,  he  murmurs,  thefe  my  friends !  the 

bell..  [noife, 

That  croud  my  hall !  the  fonnes  of  madning 

"Whofe  warmeft  friendfhip  with  the  revel  dies  ? 

Whoie  glee  it  were  my  deareft  peace  deflroy, 

Who  with  my  woes  could  fport,  my  wrongs 

defpife ; 

Could  round  my  coffin  pledge  the  cup  of  joy, 
And  on  my  crimes  even  then  their  bale-tongue  witt 
employ : 

.Whofe  converfe,  oft  as  fulfom  bawdrie  fails, 

Takes  up  the  barkings  of  impiety, 
The  fcepticks  wild  disjointed  dreams  retails, 
Thefe  modern  ravings  of  philosophy 
Made  drunk,  the  cavil,  the  detected  ly, 
The  witt  of  ignorance,  and  glofs  unfair, 

Which  honeftdujlnefs  would  with  fhame  deny; 
The  hope  of  bafenefs  vaumpt  in  candours  air  : 
Gqod  Heaven !  are  fuch  the  friends  that  to  my 
hearth  repair  ! 

The  man  of  worth  fhnns  thy  rep utelefle  dore  ; 
Even  the  old  peafant  {hakes  his  filverd  head, 
Old  faws  and  ftories  babbling  evermore, 
And  adding  ftill,  alas,  thole  dayes  be  fled  ! 
'Here  indignation  paufd,  when,  up  the  glade, 
Fale  through  the  treeshishoufholdfmokeafcends; 
.       Wakd  at  the  fight,  his  brothers  wrongs  up 
braid 

His  "melting  heart,  and  grief  his  bofome  rends : 
And  now  the  keen  refolve  its  gleaming  comfort 
leads. 

Perdie,  now  were  I  bent  on  legends  fine 
£ly  knight  fliould  rife  tfy:  flowie  of  chivalrie, 


Brave  as  Syr  Arthegal  or  Valentine, 

Another  faint   George  England  then  mould 

fee, 

Britannias  genius  fliould  his  Sabra  bee, 
Chaind  to  the  rock  by  dragon  to  be  {lain  ; 

But  he  the  virgin  princefle  ibon  fliould  free, 
And  ftretch  the  monfter  breathlefie  on  the  plain  ; 
Bribery,  the  dragon  huge,  fliould  never  rife  again. 

Eke   fliould  he,    freed  from  foul  enchaunters 

fpell 

Efcape  his  falfe  dueffas  magicke  charms, 
And  folly  quaid,  yclepd  an  hydra  fell, 

Receive  a  beauteous  lady  to  his  arms; 
While  bardes  and  minftrales  chaunt  the  foft 

alarms 
Of  gentle  love,  unlike  his  former  thrall. 

Eke  Ihould  1  fmg,  in  courtly  cunning   terms, 
The  gallant  feaft,  fervd  up  by  fenefliall, 
To  knights  and  ladies  gent  in  painted  bowre  and 
hall. 

But  certes,  while  my  tongue  fayre  truth  indites 
And  does  of  .human  frailtie  foothly  tell, 

Unmeet  it  were  indulge  the  daintie  flights 
Of  pkantafie,  that  never  yet  "befell : 
Uneath  it  is  long  habits  to  expell, 

Ne  may  the  beft  good  heart  its  blifs  fecure, 
Ne  may  the  lively  povvre  of  judging  well, 

In  arduous  worthy  deed  long  time  endure, 
Where  diffipation  once  has  fixt  her  footing  fure. 

Such  was  the  powre  that  angry  Jove  beftowei 
On  this  faire  nymph  :  the  legend  thus  is  told. 
To  Dians  care  her  life  her  mother  owd  ; 
Faire  Dian  found  her  naked  on  the  wold, 
Some  peafants  babe,  expoied  to  deadlie  cold 
And  to  a  favourite  fatjr  gave  to  rear  : 

Then,  when  the  nymph  was  fifteen  fpring- 

times  old, 

Equipt  her  with  the  bow  and  huntrefle  fpear, 
And  of  her  woodland  traine  her  made  a  wellcome 

fere. 
But  ill  her  mind  received  chaft  Phcebes  lore, 

Fain  would  fhe  at  the  chace  ftill  lag  behind: 
One  fultry  noone,  as  Phcebe  fped  afore, 
Beneath  a  leafy  vine  the  nymph  reclind, 
And,  fan  my  breaft,  ihc   cried,    O  weftera 

wind  ! 

Scon  as  the  wifti-for  word  Favonius  came. 
From  that  day    forth   the   confcious  nymph 

declind 

The  near  infpeclion  of  the  fovereign  dame  ; 
Till  mid  the  chace,  one  morne,  her  throes  betrayd 
her  ihame. 

Her  throes  with  fcorne  the  taunting  dryads  eyd, 
The  nymph  changd  colour,  and  hung  down 

her  head  ; 

Still  change  thy  blufliing  hue,  the  goddefscry'd : 
Forthwith  a  freezing  langour  gan  invade 
Her  limbs ;  and  BOW,  with  fuddein  leaves  ar- 

rayd, 

A  Ruffian  poppey  flie  tranfmed  remains ; 
The  various  colours  ever  rife  and  fade, 
The  tints  ftill  fliifting  mock  the  painters  pains; 
And  ftill  her  drowfie  mood  the  beauteous  nymph 
retains. 


POEMS. 


Meanwhile  his  new-born  elfe  Favonius  bore, 
Soft  lapt,  on  balmy  pinions  farre  away  ; 

And  with  the  fawns,  by  Peneus  flowery  ftiore, 
From  eai  licit  youth  the  laughing  impdidplay, 
For  ever  fluttering,  debonair,  and  gay, 

And  reftlefle,  as  the  dove  Deucalion  lent 
To  fpy  if  peering  oake  did  yet  bewray 

Its  braunching  h*ad  above  the  flooded  bent; 
But  ydlie  beating  round,  the  day  m  vain  was 
fpent. 

When  now  the  nymph  to  riper  yeares  gan  rife, 
To  fayre  Parnaffus  groves  flie  took  her  flight . 

There  culling  flowrettsof  a  thoufand  dyes. 
Still  did  her  head  with  tawdry  girlomlsdight; 

As  foon  the  wreath  ill  forted  would  flie  quight  • 

Ne  ever  did  fhe  climb  the  twyforkt  hill, 
Ne  could  her  eyen  explore  in  lofty  height, 

Ne  did  fliC  ever  tafte  the  facred  rill 
Trom  infpirations  fount  that  ever  doth  dittil. 

Her  fprightly  levitie  was  from  her  fyre, 

Her  drowfy  dulnefs  from  her  mother  fprong  ; 

This  never  would  allow  htr  mind  atpyre. 
That  never  would  allow  her  patience  long, 
Thus  as  fhe  (lightly  rovd  the  lawns  among, 

High  Jove  beheld  her  from  his  ftarry  feat, 
And  call'd  herDiflipation  :  wyhle  and  young 

Still  (halt  thou  be,  he  faid;  and  this  thy  fate, 
On  man  thy  fleights  employ,  on  man  that  proud 
ingrate. 

All  happinefle  he  cjaims'his  virtues  due, 

And  holds  him  injurd  whtn  my  care  denies 
The  fondling  wifh,  whence  forrow  would  en- 

fue ; 

And  idle  (till  his  prayers  invade  my  fkies: 
But  bold  and  arduous  muft  that^virtue  rife 
Which  I  accept,  no  vague  inconftant  blaze. 
Then  be  it  thine  to  Ipread  before  his  eyes 
Thy  changing  colours,  and  thy  wy Id-fire  rays, 
And  fruitlefle  ftill  ihall  be  that  virtue  thou  canit 
.  daze. 

So  fwore  the  god,  by  gloomy  Styx  he  fwore : 

The  fates  alfented,  and  the  daemon  flew 

Right  to  the  feats  of  men.     The  robe  fhe  wore 

Was  ftarrd  with  dewdrops,  and  of  paleft  blue ; 

Faire  round  her  head  playd  many  a  beauteous 

hue,  [plays; 

As  when  the  rainbow  through  the  bean-flowres 

The  fleeting  tints  the  fwaynes  with  wonder 

view, 

And  ween  to  fnatch  a  prize  beneath  the  rays ; 
But  through  the  meadows   dank  the  beauteous 
meteor  ftrays. 

So  (hone  the  nymph,  and  prank  in  pleafures  guife 
With  vylit  traines  the  tonnes  of  earth  befet ; 
Goednefle  of  heart  before  her  yawns  and  dies, 
And  friendlhip  ever  feels  the  drowfie  fitt 
Juft   when  his  powre  to  ierve  could  ferve  a 

whitt. 

And  ft;ll  behindher  march  remorfe  and  (hams 
That  never  will  their  yroafcourge  remitt, 
Whenio  the  tiend  rei,,  i;t  ii«  ;  tr.iaus  to  them  : 
Sad  cafe,  I  weet,  where  ftUi  onefel/e  onefelfe  muft 
blame. 


Long  had  the  knight  to  her  his  powres  refignd; 
In  wanton  dalliance  firft  her  nett  fhe  fpied, 

And  loon  in  mirthful  tumult  on  his  mind 
She  to  ft  lie  Hole  :  yet,*vhile  at  times  he  fped 
To  contemplations  bowre,  his  fight  flie  fled  ; 

Ne  on  the  mountainett  with  him  durft  bide  ; 
Yet  homewards  (till  flit-mett  him  in  the  glade, 
And  in  the  facial  cup  did  flily  glide, 
And  li  ill  his  bed  reiolve  eftfoons  flic  fcatterd  wide. 

And  now,  as  (lowly  fauntering  up  the  dale 
He   homeward    wends,    in   heavie  mufefull 

ftowre, 

The  fmooth  deceiver  gan  his  heart  aflail ; 
His  heart  loon  felt  the  fafcinating  powre  : 
Old  Cambrias  genius  markt  the  fatal  houre, 
And  tore  the  girlond  from  her  fea-greene  hair. 
The  conicious  oakes  above  him  ruffling  lowre, 
Aud  through  the  branches  fighs  the  gloomy  air. 
As  when  indignant  Jove  rejecls  the  flamens  pny- 
er. 

The  dryads  of  the  grove,  that  oft  had  fird 
His  opening  mind   with   many   a  raptured 

dream, 

That  oft  bis  evening  wanderings  had  infpird, 
All  by  the  filent  hill  or  murmuring  ftream, 
Forfake  him  now;  for  all  as  loft  they  deem  t 
So  homeward  he  wends ;  where,  wrapt  in  jol- 

litie, 

His  hall  to  keepen  holiday  mote  feem, 
And  with  the  hunters  foon  full  blythe  was  he, 
The  blytheft  wight  of  all  that  blythfome  com- 
panie. 

As  v  hen  th'  autumnal  morne  with  mddy  hue 
Looks  through  the  glen  befprent  with  filver 

hure, 

Acrois  the  ftubble,  brufliing  off  the  dew, 
The  younkling  fowler  gins  the  fields  explore, 
And,  wheeling  oft,  his  pointer  veres  afore, 
And  oft,  faganous  of  the  tainted  gale, 

The  fluttering  bird  betrays  ;  with  thundring 

rore  [dale ; 

The  fhott  refounds,  loud  echoing  through  the 

But  itill  the  younkling  kills  nor  partridge,  fnipe, 

nor  quail. 

Yet  ftill  the  queint  excufe  is  at  command  ; 

The  dog  was  rafli,  a  fwallow  twittered  by, 
The  gun  hung  fire,  and  keennefs  fiiook  his  hand, 

And  there  the  wind  or  bulhes  hurt  his  eye. 

So  can  the  knight  his  mind  (till  fatisfye: 
A  Jazie  fiend,  felf  impofition  hight, 

Still  whilpers  fome  excufe,  fome  gilden  lye' 
Himfelf  did  gild  to  cheat  himfelfe  outright : 
Cod  help  the  man  betwitchd  in  fuch  ungracious 
plight. 

On  diflipation  ftill  this  treachor  wait*, 
Obfequioufly  behind  at  diftance  due  ; 
And  (till  to  discontents  accurfed  gates, 
The  houfe  of  forrow,  thefe  ungudlike  two, 
Conduit  their  fainty  thralls — Great  things  te 

do 

The  knight  refolvd,  but  never  yet  could  find 
The  proper  time,   while    ftill    his   miferirs 
grew: 


65* 


THE  WORKS   OF  MICKLE. 


And  now  thefe  demons  of  the  captive  mind 
Him  to  the  drery  cave  of  difcontent  refignd. 

Deep  in  the  wyldes  of  Faerie  Lond  it  lay  ; 
Wide  was  the  mouth,  the  raofe  all  rudely 

rent; 

Some  parts  receive,  and  fome  exclude  the  day, 
For  deep  beneath  the  hill  its  caverns  went  : 
The  ragged  walls  with  lightning  feemd 

ybrent, 
And  leathlie  vermin  ever  crept  the  flore  : 

Yet  all  in  fight,  with  towres  and  caftles  gent, 
A  beauteous  lawnlkepe  rofe  afore  the  dore, 
The  which  to  view  fo  fayre  the  captive*  grieved 
fore. 

All  by  the  gate,  beneath  a  pine  (hade  bare, 
An  owl-frequented  bowre,  fome  tents  were 

fpred; 

Here  fat  a  throng,  with  eager  furious  ftare 
Rattling  the  dice  ;  and  there,  with  eyes  half 
dead,  [red, 

Some  drowfie  dronkards,  looking  black  and 
•  Dozd  out  their  days:    and  by  the  path-way 
green  [fped, 

A  fprightlie   troupe  ftill  onward  heedlefie 
In  chace  of  butterflies  alert  and  keen 
Honours,  and  wealth,  and  powre,  their  butter 
flies  I  ween. 

And  oft,  difguftfull  of  their  various  cares, 

Into  the  cave  they  wend  with  fullen  pace ; 
Each  to  his  meet  apartment  dernly  fares ; 
Here,  all  in  raggs,  in  piteous  plight  moft 
bace,  [grace. 

The  dronkard  fitts ;  there,  (bent  with  foul  dif- 
The  thriftlefie  heir ;  and  o'er  his  reeking  blade 
Red  with  his  friends  heart  gore,  in  woefull 

cace 

The  duellift  raves ;  and  there,  on  vetchie  bed, 
Crazd  with  his  vain  purfuits,  the  maniack  bends 
his  head. 

Yet  round  his  gloomy  cell  with  chalk  he  fcrawls 
Ships,  coaches,  crownes,  and  eke  the  gallow 

tree, 

All  that  he  wiflid  or  feard  his  ghaftly  walls 
Prefent  him  ftill,  and  mock  his  miferie. 
And  there,  felf-doomd,  his  curfed  felf  to  flee, 
The  gamefter  hangs  in-corner  murk  and  dread; 
Nigh   to   the  ground  bends  his  ungracious 

knee  ; 

His  drooping  armes  and  white-reclining  head 
Lim  feen,  cold  horror  gleams  athwart  th'  unhal 
lowed  (hade. 

Near  the  dreare  gate,  beneath  the  rifted  rock, 
The  keeper  of  the  cave  all  haggard  fatt, 

His  pining  corfe  a  reftlefie  ague  (hook, 

And  bliftering  fores  did  all  his  carkas  frett : 
And  with  himfelfe  he  feemd  in  keen  debate  ; 

For  ftill  the  mufcles  of  his  mouth  he  drew 
Ghaftly  and  fell ;  and  ftill  with  deepe  regrate 

He  lookd  him  around,  as  if  his  heart  did  rew 
His  former  deeds,  and  mournd  full  fore  his  fores 
to  view. 

Yet  not  himfelf,  but  Heavens  Great  King  he 

blamd, 
And  dard  his  wifdorn  and  his  will  arraign  • 


For  boldly  he  the  ways  of  God  blafphemd, 
And  of  blind  governaunce  did  loudly  plain, 
While  vild  lelf-pity  would  his  eyes  diftrain. 
As  when  an  wolfe,  entrapt  on  village  ground, 

In  dread  of  death  ygnaws  his  limb  in  twain. 
And  viewswithfcaldingtearshisbleeding  wound, 
Such  fierce  felfe-pity  ftill  this  wights  dire  por- 
taunce  crownd. 

Near  by  there  flood  an  hamlett  in  the  dale, 

Where,  in  the  filver  age,  content  did  wonne  ; 
This  riow  was  his :  yet  all  mote  nought  avail, 
His  loathing  eyes  that  place  did  ever  fliun  ; 
But  ever  through  his  neighbours  lawns  would 

run, 

Where  every  goodlie  fielde  thrice  goodlie  feemd. 

Such  was  this  weary  wight  all  woe-begone  ; 

Such  was  his  life;  and  thus  of  things  he  deemd  ; 

And  luch  like  was  his  cave  that  all  with  forrowes 

teemd. 

To  this  fell  carle  gay  diffipation  led, 

And  in  his  dreary  purlieus  left  the  knight. 
Fromthe  dire  cave  fain  would  the  knighthave  fled, 
And  fain  recalld  the  treachrous  nymph  from 

flight, 

But  now  the  late  obtruder  fhuns  his  fight, 
And  dearly  muft  be  wooed  :  hard  by  the  den, 
Where  liftlefs  Bacchus  had  his  tents  ypight, 
A  tranfient  vifit  fometimes  would  he  gain, 
While  wine  and   merry  fong  beguild  his  inward 
pain. 

Yet,  ever  as  he  reard  his  flombering  head, 

The  ghaftly  tyrant  at  his  couch  flood  near; 
And  ay  with  ruthlefs  clamour  gan  upbraid, 
And  words  that  would  .his  very  heartitrings 

tear: 

See  now,  he  fayes,  where  fetts  thy  vain  career  : 

Approaching  elde  now  wings  its  cheerlefTe  way, 

Thy  fruitleffe-  autumn  gins  to  blaunche  thy 

heare, 

And  aged  winter  afks  from  youth  its  ftay ; 
But  thine  comes  poore  of  joy,  comes  with  unho- 
noured  gray. 

Thou  haft  no  friend  '. — ftill  on  the  worthlefle 
train  [paid ; 

Thy  kindnefle  flowd,  and  ftill  with  fcorne  re- 
Even  (he  on  whom  thy  favours  heapt  remain, 

Even  flie  regards  thee  with  a  bofome  dead 

To  kindly  paffior*,  and  by  motives  led 
Such  as  the  planter  of  his  negroe  deems ; 

What  profit  ftill  can  of  the  wretch  be  made 
Is  all  his  care,  of  more  he  never  dreams  : 
So  farre  remote  from  her,  thy  troubles  (he  efteems. 

Thy  children  too  !  Heavens !  what  a  hopelefle 

fight ; 

Ah,  wretched  fyre ! — but  ever  from  this  fcene 
The  wretched  fyre  precipitates  his  flight, 
And  in  the  bowls  wyld  fever  (buns  his  teene, 
So  pafs  his  dayes,  while  what  he  might  have 

been 

Its  beauteous  views  does  every  morne  prefent : 
So    pafle    his  dayes,   while  ftill  the  raven 

fpleen 

Croaks  in  his  eares,  the  brighteft  parts  mifpent 
Beget  an  hoarie  age  of  grief  and  difcontent. 


POEMS. 


But  boaft  not  of  fupetior  fhrewd  addrefie, 
Ye  who  can  calmly  fpurn  the  ruind  mayd, 

Ye  who  unmovd  can  view  the  deepe  diftrefle 
That  crufhes  to  the  duft  the  parents  head, 
And  rends  thateafie  heart  by  youbetrajd, 


Boaft  not  that  ye  his  numerous  woes  efkew  • 
Ye  who  unawd  the  nuptial  conch  invade, 
Boait  not  his  weaknefle  with  contempt  to  view 
For  worthy  is  he  ftill  compard,  perdic,  to  you. 


GLOSSARY. 


ACCLOYD,  difgufted,  cloyed. 

Adred,  frightened.     Anglo.  Sax.  Adradan. 

Agpne,  ago. 

Albee,  although. 

Als,  alfo. 

Arread,  interpret. 

Attonce,  at  once,  together. 

Atvjeene,  between. 

Ay,  always. 

B. 

Bale,  harm,  forrow. 

Beetle,  frequently  ufed  by  the  old  poets  for  the  in 
dicative  imperfedl  of  the  verb  To  be. 
Sefeene,  becoming. 
Blin,  ceafe,  llinnan.     Sax. 
Srede,  to  knit,  plait,  brcdein.    Sax. 

€ 

Carle,  old  man. 
Certes,  certainly,  truly. 
Chorle,  a  peafant. 
Clept,  called,  named. 
Cvuetife,  avarice. 

D. 

Dan,  a  prefix,  quafi  Mr. 
Dearling,  darling. 
Defly,  neatly,  finely. 
Depeinten,  figured,  difplayed. 
llearnly,  fadly,    fecretly. 
Dight,  adorned,  clad. 
Dreare,  difmal,  frightful. 

£. 

Eftfoons,  by  and  bye,  forthwith. 
Eke,  alfo. 
Eld,  age. 

Elfe,  young  one,  child. 
Erfl,  formerly. 
F.yen,  eyes. 

F. 

Fay,  fairy. 

Frytor,  villain,  deceiver. 
Fae,  companion. 
Forby,  befide,  near  to. 
Fordone,  undone,  ruined. 
Forefend,  to  guard  beforehand. 
Fray,  tumult,  buftle. 
Frayd,  afraid. 

G. 

Geer,  furniture,  tackle. 
Gent,  fine,  noble. 
Gin,  gan.  begin,  began. 
Glen,  a  dell,  a  hollow,  between  two  hills. 
Goody,  a  countrywoman. 


H. 

Han,  preterite  plural  of  the  verb,  To  have. 
Heare,  hair.     Often  ufed  by  Spenfer. 
Higbt,  called,  is  called,  was  called,  or  named* 
Hoyden,  flattern,  coarfe. 

I. 

Imp,  infant,  child.  < 

Jolliment,  merriment. 

K. 

Ken,  v.  to  fee. 
Knare,  a  knotty  arm  of  a  tree.   Dryd. 

L. 

Leach,  phyfician. 
Lenanan,  miftrefs,  concubine. 
Lever,  rather. 
Lewdly,  bafely,  -fooliflily. 
Liefeft,  deareft. 

M. 

Malengines,  perfons  villainoufly  employed,  toad- 
eaters. 

Meint,  mingled. 
Merrimake,  paftime. 
Mery,  pie  af ant. 


Moe,  more. 

Mote,  v.  might,  mot. 

Murk,  dark. 


Sax. 
N. 


Natlemorc,  not  the  more. 

Natbleffe,  neverthelefs,  natheles.  Sax. 

Native,  natural. 

Ne,  nor. 

Nolent  volent,  willing,  or  unwilling. 

P. 

Perdle,  an  aflervation,  quafi  verily. 
Pierfant,  piercing. 
Portaunce,  behaviour,  manner. 
Prankt,  adorned. 
Propine,  recompenfe. 

Q^. 

Quaid,  quelled,  conquered. 
Quight,  to  quit,  leave. 

R. 

ReaA,  to  warn,  to  prophefy. 
Recks,  heeds,  cares  for. 
Reqverc,  require.     Often  ufed  by  Spenfer. 
Re w,  to  repent. 
Ruth,  rutblefi,  pity,  pitylefs. 

S. 

Sale'ws,  falutes. 
Sell,  fadd^. 
Semblaunce,  appearance. 

i  maUcr  ol  ceremonies,  fteward 


454 


THE  WORKS   OF   MICKLE. 


Sheen,  bright,  mining,  fine. 

Shent,  difgraced,/<Y7z^  fcendid.     Sax. 

Skyen,  adj.   Sky. 

So(>tb,footbly,  truth,  truly. 

StoivnJ.l  emot;on  fit  fa Jeyrian.  Sax. 
Stature.  } 
Straine,  tenor. 
£ues,  purlues,  follows. 

T. 

Teen,  grief,  forrow. 
Thewei,  habits,  manners. 
ttilk,  this,  that. 
Traines,  devices,  traps. 
Tranfmc'wd,  changed,  transformed. 
Treacbor,  traitor,  deceiver.     . 
Troublous,  troublefome. 

U. 
Uneatb,  not  eafy,  difficult. 

V. 
Vild,  vile. 

W 

Warelefs,  unfufpedling. 
Wa/alt  feftive. 


Ween,  tueend,  or  wend,  think,  deemed. 

Mrend,  move,  go. 

IVeet,  much  the  fame  as  ween, 

Weetlefs,  thoughtlefs. 

Whilom  formerly,  bivilum.     Sax. 

a  Whitt,  a  jot,  any  thing,  bwit  aliquid.. 

While  are.  erewhile,  hivilaan.     S'as. 

JViyH,  perfon,  nvibt.     Sax. 

Wilding,  the  crab-tree. 

Werine,  to  dwell. 

Wrettthfull,  revengeful. 

Y. 

Tblends    mixirs. 
Tbltnt,  blinded. 
Torent)  burnt 
Tdept,  called,  named. 
Tfere,  together. 
Ygoe,  formerly. 
Tbde.  went. 

Youthhede,  quaji  yojithhooJ. 
Tbiithly,  lively,  youthful. 
Ypigbt,  placed,  fixed. 
2wist  truly,  verily. 


The  letter  7*in  all  the  old  Englifh  poets  i»  frequently  prefixed  to  verbs  and  verbal  adjectives,  but 
without  any  particular  figriification.  The  ufe  of  it  is  purely  Saxon,  though  after  the  Conqueft  the^e 
gave  place  to  the  Norman  y.  It  is  always  to  be  pronounced  as  the  pronoun  ye. 

Spenfer  has  alfo  frequently  followed  the  Saxon  formation,  in  adding  the  letter  N 'to  his  verbs,  as 
telien,  <worken,  Stc.  When  affixed  to  a  fubftantive,  it  forms  the  plural  number,  as  eyen,  eyes,  &c. 


MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 


AN  ELEGY. 


Quod  tit>i  vitse  fors  detraxit, 
Fama  adjiciet  poflhuma  laudi ; 
Noftris  longum  tu  dolor  et  honor. 


THE  balmy  zephyrs  o'er  the  woodland  firay, 
And  gently  ftn  the  bofotn  of  the  lake  : 

The  fawns  that  panting  in  the  covert  lay, 

Nowthroughthe  gloomy  park.their  revels  take. 

Pale  rife  the  rugged  hills  that  fkirt  the  north, 
The  wood  glows  yellow'd  by  the  evening  rays, 

Silent  and  beauteous  flows  the  filver  Forth, 
And  Annan  murmuring  through  the  willows 
ftrays. 

But,  ah  !  what  means  this  filence  in  the  grove, 
Where  oft  the  wild  notes  footh'd  the  love-fick 
boy  ? 

Why  ceafe  in  Mary's  bower  the  fongs  of  love  ? 
The  fongs  of  love,  of  innocence,  of  joy  '. 

When  bright  the  lake  reflects  the  fetting  ray, 
The  fportive  virgins  tread  the  flowery  green  ; 

Here  by  the  moon  full  oft  in  cheerful  May, 
The  merry  bride-maids  at  the  dance  are  feen; 


But  who  thefe  nymphs'that  through  the  copfe  appear 
In  robes  of  white  adorn'd  with  violet  blue  ? 

Fondly  with  purple  flowers  they  deck  yon  bier, 
And  wave  in  iblemn  pomp  the  boughs  of  yew. 

Supreme  in  grief,  her  eye  confus'd  with  woe, 
Appears  the  lady  of  the  aerial  train, 

Tall  as  the  fylvan  goddefs  of  the  bow,   - 
And  fair  as  fhe  who  wept  Adonis  flain. 

Such  was  the  pomp  when  Gilead's  rirgin  band, 
Wandering    by    Judah's   flowery;  mountain8 
wept, 

And  with  fair  Iphis  by  the  hallow'd  ftrand 
Of  Siloe's  brook  a  mournful  Sabbath  kept. 

By  the  refplendent  crofs  with  thiftles  twin'd, 
'Tis  Mary's  guardian  genius  loft  in  woe, 

"  Ah,  fay  what  deepeft  wrongs  have  thus  com- 

"  bin'd          .  [fnow ! 

"  To  heave  with  reftleft  fighs  thy  breaft  of 


POEMS, 


CSS 


"  Oh  ftay,  ye.  dreads,  nor  unfinifh'd  fly 

"  Your  folemn  rites  '.  here  comes  no  foot  pro- 
"  fane '. 

44  The  mufe's  fon,  and  hallow'd  is  his  eye, 

44  Implores  your  ftay,  implores  to  join  the  ftrain. 

'*  See  from  her  cheek  the  glowing  life  blufh  flies  ! 

"   Alas,  what  faultering  founds  of  woe  be  thefe! 
"  Ye  nymphs  who  fondly  watch  her  languid  eyes, 

44  Oh  fay  what  muic  will  her  foul  appeafe  ! 

"  Refound  the  folemn  dirge,"  the  nymphs  reply, 
"  And  let  the  turtles  moan  in  Mary's  bower  ; 

"  Let  grief  indulge  her  grand  fublimity, 
"  And  melancholy  wake  her  melting  power. 

44  For  art  has  triumph'd — Art,  that  never  flood 
"  On  honour's  fide,  or  generous  tranfyort  knew, 

44  Has  dy'd  its  haggard  hands  in  Mary's  blood, 
44  And  o'er  her  fame  has  breath'd  its  blighting 
"  dew. 

4<  But  come   ye  nymphs,    ye   woodland   fpirits 

"  come, 

"  And  with  funereal  flowers  your  trefies  braid, 
"  While   in  this  hallowed   bower  we   raife  the 

"  tomb, 
'*  And  confecrate  the  fong  to  Mary's  (hade. 

"  O  firig  what  fmiles  her  youthful  morning  wore, 
"  Her's  every  charm,  and  every  lovelieft  grace, 

"  When  nature's  happieft   touch  could   add   no 

"  more, 
44  Heaven  lent  an  angel's  beauty  to  her  face. 

"  O  !   whether*  by  the  mofs-grown  bufliy  dell, 
"  Where  from  the  oak  depends  the  mifletoe, 

"  Where  creeping  ivy  fhades  the  druids'  cell, 
"  Where  from  the  rock  the  gurgling  waters 
"  flow: 

"  Or  whether  fportive  o'er  the  cowflip  beds, 
"  You  through  the  fairy  dales  of  Teviot  glide, 

'*  Or  brufh  the  primrofe  banks,    while   Cynthia 

"  Iheds 
44  Her  filv'ry  light  o'er  Efk's  tranfcendent  tide  : 

*  Hither,  ye  gentle  guardians  of  the  fair, 

"  By  virtue's  tears,  by  weeping  beauty,  come; 

*-4  Unbind  the  teftive  robes,  unbind  the  hair, 
44  And  wave  the  Cyprus  bough  at  Mary's  tomb. 

**  And  come,  ye  fleet  magicians  of  the  air, 

"  The  mournful  lady  of  the  chorus  cried  j 
"*   Your  airy  tints  of  baleful  hue  prepare, 

"  And  through  this  grove  bid  Mary's  fortunes 
"  glide: 

f*  And  let  the  fongs  with  folemn  harpings  join'd, 
44  And  wailing  notes,  unfold  the  tale  of  woe  !*' 

She  fpoke,    and    waking  through    the  breathing 

wind, 
From  lyres  unfeen  the  folemn  harpings  flow. 

The  fong  began — "  How  bright  her  early  morn  ! 

««  What  lafting  jnys  her  fmiling  fate  portends  ! 
*'  To  wield  the  awful  Britifh  fceptres  born  ! 

"  And  Gaul's  young  heir  her  bridal-bed  af- 
4<  cends. 

*  See,  round  her  bed,  light  floating  on  the  air, 
"  The  little  loves  their  purple  wings  difplay ; 


"  When  fndden,  flirieking  at  the  difmal  glare 
"  Of  funeral  torches,  far  they  fpeed  away. 

"  Far  with  the  loves  each  blifsful  omen  fpeeds, 
"  Her   eighteenth   April   hears   her   widow'd 

"  moan, 
'*  The  bridal-bed  the  fable  herfe  fucceed?, 

"  And    ftruggling   factions  fhake    her   native. 
44  throne. 

"  No  more  a  goddefs  in  the  fwimming  dance, 
"  May'ft  thou,  O  queen  !  thy  lovely  form  dif- 

"  play; 

'  No  more  thy  beauty  reign  the  charm  of  France, 
"  Nor  in  Verfailles'  proud  bowers  outfhine  the 
44  day. 

"  For  the  cold  north  the  trembling  fails  are  fpread ; 

44  Ah,  what  drear  horrors  gliding  through  thy 

"  breaft  ! 
14  While  from  thy  weeping  eyes  fair  Gallia  fled, 

"  Thy  future  woes  in  boding  fighsconfeft*  '.   * 

"  A  nation  ftern  and  ftubborn  to  command, 
44  And  now  couvuls'd  with  faction's  fierce4! 
"  rage, 

*'  Commits  its  fceptre  to  thy  gentle  hand, 
41  And  a(ks  a  bridle  from  thy  tender  age." 

As  weeping  thus  they  fung,  the  omens  rofe, 
Her  native  more  receives  the  mournful  queen; 

November  wind  o'er  the  bare  landfcape  blows, 
In  hazy  gloom  the  fea-wave  fkirts  the  fcene. 

The  houfe  of  Holy- Rood,  infullen  ftate, 

Bleak  in  the  (bade  of  rude  pil'd  rocks  appear?; 

Cold  on  the  mountain's  fide,  the  type  of  fate, 
Its  Shattered  walls  a  Romifli  chapel  rears. 

No  nodding   grove   here    waves  the    flieltcring 
bough  ; 

O'er  the  dark  vale,  prophetic  of  her  reign, 
Beneath  the  carving  mountain's  craggy  brow 

The  dreary  echoes  to  the  gales  complain: 

Beneath  the  gloomy  clouds  of  rolling  fmoke, 
The  high  pil'd  city  rears  her  Gothic  towers;  ? 

The  ftern  brow'd  caftle,  from,  his  lofty  rock. 
Looks  fcornful  down,  and  fix'd  defiance  lours  f, 

*  The  unhappy  Mary,  in  her  infancy,  wasfent 
to  France  to  the  tare  of  her  mother's  family,  the  • 
hoi.fc  of  Guife.  The  French  Court  was  at  that 
time  the  gfiyeft  and  tnnjl  gallant  of  Europe.  Here 
the  pnncefs  of  Scotland  was  educated  with  all 
the  dijtinflion  due  to  her  high  rank  ;  and  as  foott 
as  years  would  allow,  jhe  was  married  to  the 
Dauphin,  afterwards  Francis  :  and  on  the  death 
of  this  monarch,  which  clofed  ajfjort  reign,  the 
politics  of  the  houfe  of  Guife  required  the  returtt 
of  the  young  queen  to  Scotland.  She  left  France 
with  tears  and  the  utmo/f  reluffance  s  and  on  her 
landing  in  her  native  kingdom,  the  different  ap 
pearance  of  the  country  awakened  all  her  regret, 
and  affeded  her  with  a  melancholy  which  fcemed 
to  forebode  her  future  misfortunes. 

f  Thffe  circumflances.  d:fcripiive  of  the  en~- 
iiirons  of  Holy-Rood-Houfe,  are  local ;  yet,  how 
ever  dreary  the  unimproved  November  view  may 


656 


THE   WORKS    OF   MICKLE. 


Domeftic  blifs,  that  dear,  that  fjvereign  joy, 
Far  from  her  heart  was  feen  to  fpeed  away ; 

Strait  dark  browM  fa&ions  entering  in,  deftroy 
The  feeds  of  peace,  and  mark  her  for  their  prey. 

No  more  by  moon-fhine  to  the  nuptial  bower 
Her  Francis  conies,  by  love's  foft  fetters  led  ; 

Far  other  fpoufe  now  wakes  her  midnight  hour  *, 
Enrag'd,  and  reeking  from  the  harlot's  bed. 

"  Ah !  draw  the  veil !"  fhrill  trembles  through 
the  air : 

The  veil  was  drawn — but  darker  fcenes  arofe, 
Another  f  nuptial  couch  the  fates  prepare, 

The  baleful  teeming  lource  of  deeper  woes. 

The  bridal  torch  her  evil  angel  wav'd, 

Far  from  the  couch  offended  prudence  fled  ; 

Of  deepeft  crimes  deceitful  faction  rav'd, 

And  rous'd  her  trembling  from  the  fatal  bed. 

The  hinds  are  feen  in  arms,  and  glittering  fpears, 
Inftead    of   crooks,    the   Grampian  fliepherds 
wield ; 

Fanatic  rage  the  ploughman's  vifage  wears, 
And  red.  with  (laughter  lies  the  harveft  field. 

From  Borthwick  field,  deferted  and  forlorn, 
The  beauteous  queen  all  tears  is  feen  to  fly ; 

Now  $  through  the  ftreets  a  weeping  captive 

borne, 
Her  woe  the  triumph  of  the  vulgar  eye. 

Again  the  vifibn  fhifts  the  woeful  fcene  ; 

Again  forlorn  from  rebel  arms  (he  flies, 
And,  unfufpec~ling,  on  a  fifter  queen, 

The  lovely,  injur'd  fugitive  relies. 

When  wifdom,  baffled,  owns  th'  attempt  in  vain, 
Heaven  oft  delights  to  fet  the  virtuous  free  ; 

Some    friend    appears     and    breaks   affliction's 

chain : 
But  ah,  no  generous  friend  appears  for  thee 

A  prifon's  ghaftly  walls  and  grated  cells 
Deform'd  the  airy  fcenery  as  it  paft  ; 

The  haunt  where  liftlefs  melancholy  dwells, 
Where  every  genial  feeling  finks  aghaft. 

No  female  eye  her  fickly  bed  to  tend  ! 

"  Ah  ceafe  to  tell  it  in  the  female  ear  ! 
"  A  woman's  ftern  command !  a  proffer'd  friend  ! 

"  Oh  generous  paffion,  peace,  forbear,  forbear  ! 

fppear,  the  conniffeur  in  gardening  will  perceive 
that  plantation,  >.ind  the  efforts  ofarty  could  cajily 
convert  the  frofpfH  into  an  agreeable  and  mojl  ro 
mantic  fummer  land/cape. 

*  Lord  Darnley,  the  handfomejl  man  of  his 
age,  but  a  wortllefs  debauchee  of  no  abilities. 

f  Her  marriage  'with  the  Earl  of  Botbnvell,  an 
unprincipled  politician  of  great  addrefs. 

\  When  Jhe  ivas  brought  prijcner  through  the 
Jlrtets  of  Edinburgh,  Jbe  fujfered  almojl  every  in 
dignity  'which  an  outrageous  mob  could  offer.  Her 
ferfon  'was  bedaubed  with  mire,  and  bee  ear  in- 
f lilted,  ivitb  eiicry  term  of  vulgar  abufc.  Even 
£uchanan  feejns  to  drop  a  tear  'when  he  relates 
tbefe  circumjlances. 


"  And  could,  oh  Tudor '.  could  thy  heart  retain 
"  No  foftening  thought  of  what  thy  woes  had 
"  been  ;  (vaia 

"  When  thou,    the    heir  of  England's  crown,  in 
41  Didft  fue  the  mercy  of  a  tyrant  queen  ? 

"  And  could  no  pang  from  tender  memory  wake, 
"  And  feel  thofe  woes  that  once  had  been  thine 
'<  own  ; 

"  No  pleading  tear  to  drop  for  Mary's  fake, 
"  ForMary's  fake,  the  heir  of  England's  throne  ? 

"  Alas !  no  pleading  touch  thy  memory  knew, 
"  Dry'd   were  the  tears  which  for  thy felf  had 
"  flow'd  ; 

"  Dark  politics  alone  ertgag'd  thy  view  ; 
"  With  female  jealoufy  thy  bolbm  glow'd. 

"  And  fay,  did  wifdom  own  thy  ftern  command  ? 

'•  Did  honour  wave  his  banner  o'er  the  deed  ? 
"  Ah  ! -—Mary's  fate  thy  name  fhall  ever  brand, 

"  And  ever  o'er  her  woes  fliall  pity  bleed. 

"  The  babe  that  prattled  on  his  nurfe's  knee, 
*'  When  firft  thy  woeful  captive  hours  began, 

'*  Ere  heaven,  oh  haplefs  Mary,  fet  thee  free, 
"  That  babe  to  battle  march'd  -in  arms — a 


An  awful  paufe  enfues — with  fpeaking  eyes, 
And  hands   half-rais'd,    the    guardian   wood- 
nymphs  wait  ; 

While  flow  and  fad  the  airy  fcenes  arife, 

Stain'd  with  the  laft  deep  woes  of  Mary's  fate. 

With  dreary  black  hung  round  the  hall  appears, 
The  thirfty  faw-duft  ilrews  the 'marble  floor, 

Blue  gleams  the  ax,  the  block  its  fhoulders  rears, 
And  pikes  and  halberds  gilard  the  iron  door. 

The  clouded  moon  her  dreary  glirapfes  filed, 
And  Mary's  maids,  a  mournful  train,  pafs  by  ; 

Languid  they  walk,  and  penfive  hang  the  head, 
And  iilent  tears  pace  down  from  every  eye. 

Serene  and  nobly  mild  appears  the  queen  ; 

She  fmiles  on  Heaven,   and  bows  the  injur'd 

head : 
The  ax  is  lifted — from  the  deathful  fcene 

The  guardians  turn'd,  and  all  the  picture  fled — 

It  fled  :  the  wood-nymphs  o'er  the  diftant  lawn, 
As  wrapt  in  vifion,  dart  their  earned  eyes  ; 

So  when  the  huntfman  hears  the  rattling  fawn, 
He  ftands  impatient  of  the  fiarting  prize. 

The  fovereign  dame  her  awful  eye-balls  roll'd, 
As  Cuma's  maid  when  by  the  god  infpir'd  ; 

"  The  depth  of  ages  to  my  fight  unfold," 

She  cries,  and  Mary's  meed  my  breaflt  has  fir'dL 

"  On  Tudor's  throne  her  fons  fliall  ever  reign, 
"  Age  after  age  fhall  fee  their  flag  unfurl'd, 

"  With  fovereign  pride  wherever  roars  the  main, 
"  Stream  to  the  wind,  and  awe  the  trembling 
•'  world. 

"  Nor  Britain's  fceptre  fhall  they  wield  alone, 
"  Age  after  age  through  length'ning  time  fliall 
"  fee 

"  Her  branching  race  on  Europe's  every  throne, 
"  And  cither  India  bend  to  them  the  knee. 


POEMS. 


"  But  Tudor,  as  a  fruitlefs  gourd,  fhall  die  ; 

"  I  fee  her  death-fcene  on  the  lowly  floor  : 
"  Dreary  (he  fits,  cold  grief  has  glaz'd  her  eye, 

"  And  anguifli  gnaws  her  till  ihe  breathes  no 
"  mure." 

But  hark  !— loud  howling  through  the  midnight 
gloom, 

Faction  is  rous'd,  and  fends  the  baleful  yell  '. 
Oh  fave,  ye  generous  few,  your  Mary's  tomb  1 

Oh  fave  her  allies  from  the  baleful  fpell  I 

"  And,  lo  !  where  time  with  brighten'd  face  fe- 
"  rene 

"  Points  to  yon  far,  but  glorious  opening  (ky  ; 
*'  See  truth  walk  forth,  majeftic  awful  queen  ! 

'*,  And  party's  blackening  mifts  before  her  fly. 

"  Falfehood  unmafk'd  withdraws  her  ugly  train, 
"  And  Mary's  virtues  all  illuftrious  mine — 

"  Yes,  thou  haft  friends,  the  godlike  and  humane 
"  Of  lateft  ages,  injur'd  queen,  are  thine.'' 

The  milky  fplendours  of  the  dawning  ray, 

Now  through  the  grove  a  trembling  radiance 
flied; 

With  fprightly  note  the  woodlark  hail'd  the  day, 
And  with  the  moonfhine  all  the  vifion  fled. 

KNOWLEDGE:  AN  ODE. 

S.  ANN.  JE.T.  AUCT.  1 8. 

Ducit  in  errorem  variorum  ambage  viaruni. 

OVID. 

HIGH  on  a  hill's  green  bofom  laid, 
At  eafe  my  carelefs  fancy  ftray'd, 

And  o'er  the  landfcape  ran  : 
Reviv'd,  what  fcenes  the  feafons  (how ; 
And  weigh'd,  what  (hare  of  joy  or  woe 

Is  doom'd  to  toiling  man. 

The  nibbling  flocks  around  me  bleat ; 
The  oxen  low  beneath  my  feet, 
Along  the  clover'd  dale  ; 

The  author  of  this  little  poem  to  fbe  memory 
tf  an  unhappy  princefs,  is  unwilling  to  enter  into 
the  controverfy  refpeeiing  her  guilt  or  her  inno 
cence.  Suffice  it  only  to  of-ferre,  that  the  foltolo- 
ing  fads  may  be  proved  to  dcm<->n/iration:-—crke. 
letters  'which  have  always  been  e/ifeiited  the  Prin 
cipal  proofs  of  Q-icen  Mary's  guilt,  are  forged. 
Buchanan,  on  tubofe  authority  Francis,  and  c'ber. 
hiflorians,  have  condemned  her,  has  f.~,ljififdfr~>e- 
ral  circumjlances  of  her  bifiory,  and  lias  cited 
again/I  her  public  records  itjhicb  ?ie<yer  exi/ied,  as 
has  been  lately  proved  to  demonftration.  And,  to 
add  no  more,  tbe  treatment  /he  received  from  her 
iliu/lrious  covfin  was  diffared  by  a  policy  truly; 
Machiavelian. — a  policy  which  trampled  on  the 
obligations  cf  honour,  of  humanity  and  morality. 
From  whence  it  may  be  inferred,  that,  to  txprefs 
the  indignation  at  the  cruel  treatment  ofJlfarv, 
•which  hiflory  mvfl  everinfpire,  and  to  drop  a  tear 
over  her  ftcfferings,  is  not  nnivorthy  of  a  writer 
tubo  -would  appear  in  the  caufe  of  virtue. 

VOL.  XI. 


The  golden  flieaves  the  reapers  bind, 

The  ploughman  whittles  near  behind, 

And  breaks  the  new  mown  vale. 

"  Hail  knowledge  '.  gift  of  heaven  !"  I  cried, 
"  E'en  all  the  gifts  of  heaven  betide, 

"  Compar'd  to  thee  ho\v  low  ! 
"  The  bleflings  of  the  earth,  and  all 
"  The  beads  of  fold  a«d  foreft  fliare, 

"  But  godlike  beings  know. 

"  How  mean  the  fhort-liv'd  joys  of  fenfe; 
"  But  how  fublime  the  excellence 

"  Of  -wifdom's  facred  lore  ! 
"  In  death's  deep  (hades  what  nations  lie, 
"  Yet  ftill  can  wifdom's  piercing  eye 

"  Their  mighty  deeds  explore. 

"  She  fees  the  little  Spartan  band, 
"  With  great  Leonidas,  withftand 

"  The  Afian  world  in  arms ; 
"  She  hears  th»  heav'nly  founds  that  hnng. 
"  On  Homer's  and  on  Plato's  tongue, 

"  And  glows  at  Tully's  charms. 

*'  The  wonders  of  the  fpacious  (ky, 
*'  She  penetrates  with  Newton's  eye, 

"  And  marks  the  planets'  roll  : 
"  The  human  mind  with  Locke  Ihe  fcans ; 
"  With  Cambray,  virtue's  fame  (he  fans, 

"  And  lifts  to  heaven  the  foul. 

"  How  matter  takes  ten  thoufand  forms 
"  Of  metals,  plants,  of  men  and  worms ; 

"  She  joys  to  trace  with  Boyle. 
"  This  life  (he  deems  an  infant  ftate, 
"  A  gleam,  that  bodes  a  life  complete, 

"  Beyond  the  mortal  toil. 

"  What  numerous  ills  in  life  befr.l! 
11  Yet  wifdom  learns  to  fcorn  them  all, 

"  An«i  arms  the  breaft  with  fteel : 
"  E'en  death's  pale  face  no  horror  wears; 
"  But  ah  !  what  horrid  pangs  and  fears 

''  Unknowing  wretches  feel ! 

"  That  breaft  excels  nroud  Ophir's  mines, 
"  And  fairer  than  the  morning  Ihines, 

"  Where  wifdom's  treafures  glow  : 
"  But  ah  !  how  void  yon  paafam's  mir.d, 
"  His  thoughts  how  darken'd  ind  confin'd, 

«'  Nor  cares  he  more  to  know. 

"  The  laft  two  tenants  of  the  ground, 
"  Cf  ancient  times  his  hiftory  bound  ; 

"  Mas !  ;-  'carce  ?oes  higher : 
"  In  vain  to  him  is  Maro's  ftrain, 
"  And  bhakfpcare's  magic  powers  in  vain  ; 

"  In  vain  is  Milton '.<  fire. 

"  Nor  fun  by  day,  nor  (lars  by  night, 
''  Can  ^ive  his  foul  toe  grand  delight 

*'    To  trace  Almighty 'power  : 
"  His  team  thinks  juil  as  much  as  he 
"  Of  nature's  yaft  Variety, 

"  In  animal  and  flower." 

As  thus  I  fung,  a  folemn  found 
Accoftsmine  ear;  I  look'd  around, 
And  lo !  an  ancient  fage, 
Tt 


THE   WORKS   OF   MICKLC. 


Hard  by  an  ivy'd  oak  flood  near, 
That  fenc'd  the  cave,  where  nur.y  a  year 
Had  been  his  hermitage. 

His  mantle  gray  flow'd  loofe  behind, 
His  fnowy  beard  wav'd  to  the  wind, 

And  added  folemn  grace ; 
His  broad  bald  front  gave  dignity, 
Attention  mark'd  his  lively  eye, 

And  peacefmil'd  in  hi&fare. 

He  beckon'd  with  his  wrinkled  hand"; 
IVly  ear  was  all  at  his  command, 

And  thus  the  fage  began : 
"  Godlike  it  is  to  know,  I  own  ; 
*'  But  oh !  how  little  can  be  known, 

"  By  poor  lliort-fighted  man. 

"  Go,  mark  the  fchools  -where  letter'd  pride, 
"  And  ftar-crown'd  fcience  boaftful  guide, 

"  Difplay  their  faireft  light ; 
w  There,  led  by  feme  pale  meteor's  ray, 
"  That  leaves  them  oft,  the  fages  ftray, 

"  And  grope  in  endlels  night. 

•'  Of  wifdoni  proud,  yon  fage  esclaims> 
"  Virtue  and  vice  are  merely  names, 

"  And  changing  every  hour ; 
"  Afhley,  how  loud  in  virtue's  praife  I 
«'  Yet  Afhley  with  a  kifs  betrays, 

"  Aird  ftrips  her  of  her  dower. 

*'  Hark,  Bollingbroke  his  God  arraigns; 

*'  Hobbes  fmiles  on  vice ;  Defcartes  maintains 

"  A  godlefs  paffivecaufe. 
•'  See  Bayle  oft  flily  fhifting  round, 
"  Would  fondly  fix  on  fceptic  ground, 

"  And  change,  O  truth,  thy  laws! 

**  And  what  the  joy  this  love  beftows, 
*'  Alas,  no  joy,  no  hope  it  knows 

"  Above  what  beftials  claim  : 
"  To  quench  our  nobleft  native  fire, 
*c  That  bids  to  nobler  worlds  afpire, 

"  Is  all  its  hope,  its  aim. 

"  Not  Afric's  wilds,  nor  Babel's  wafte, 
"  Where  ignorance  her  tents  hath  plac'd, 

"  More  difmal  fcene  difplay  ; 
"  A  fcene  where  virtue  fickening  dies, 
"  Where  vice  to  dark  estin&ion  flies, 

"  And  fpurn&  the  future  day, 

"  Wifdom,  you  boafl  to  you  is  given  ; 
•'  At  night  then  mark  the  fires  of  heaven, 

"  And  let  thy  in ind  explore; 
"  Swift  as  the  lightning  let  it  fly, 
•'  From  flar  to  flar,  from  fky  to  fky, 

"  Still,  ftill,  are  millions  more. 

"  Th'immecfe  ideas  ftrike  the  foul 
"  With  pleafing  horror,  and  contrpui 

"  Thy  wifdom's  empty  boaft, 
"  What  are  they  ? — Thou  canft  never  fay  : 
"  Then  filent  adoration  pay, 

"  And  be  in  wonder  loft. 

"  Say,  how  the  felf-fame  roots  produce 

"  The  wholefome food  and  poifonous  juice; 

"  And  adders  balfams  yield  ; 
"  How  fierce  the  harking  tyger  glares, 
"  How  mild  the  heifer  with  thtc  fhares 

"  The  labours  of  the  field  ? 


"  Why  growling  to  las  den  retires 
"  The  fullen  pard,  while  joy  infpires 

"  Yon  happy  fportivc  lambs? 
"  Now  fcatter'd  o'er  the  hill  they  ftray, 
"  Now  weary  af  their  gambling  play, 

"  All  fingle  out  their  dams. 

"  Inftinct  directs—  but  what  is  that  ? 
"  Fond  man,  thou  never  canft  fay  what  : 
'   ."  Oh  fhort  thy  feanhes  fall  ! 
"  By  ftumbling  chance,  and  flow  degrees, 
"  The  ufei'ul  arts  of  men  increaie, 
"  But  this  at  once  is  all. 

"  A  trunk  firft  floats  along  the  deep, 
"  Long  ages  ftill  improve  the  fhip, 

"  'Till  fhe  commands  the  fhore, 
"  But  never  bird  improv'd  her  neft, 
"  Each  all  at  once  of  powers  poffeft,  - 

"  Which  ne'er  can  rife  to  more. 

"  That  down  the  fteep  the  waters  flow, 
"  That  weight  defcends,  we  fee,  we  know, 

"  But  -why,  can  ne'er  explain  ; 
"  Then  humbly  weighing  nature's  laws, 
"  To  God's  high  will  afcribe  the  caufe, 

"  And  own  thy  wifdom  vain. 

"  For  ftill  the  more  thou  know'ft,  the  more 
"  Shalt  thou  the  vanity  deplore 

"  Of  all  thy  foul  can  find. 
"  This  life  a  fickly  woeful  dream, 
"  A  burial  of  the  foul  will  feem, 

"  A  palfy  of  the  mind. 

"  Though  knowledge  fcorns  the  peafant's  fear, 
"  Alas,  it  points  the  fccret  fpear 

"  Of  many  a  namelefs  woe. 
"  Thy  delicacy  dips  the  dars 
"  In  rankling  gall,  and  gives  a  fmart 

"  Beyond  what  he  can  know. 

"  How  happy  then  the  fimple  mind 
"  Of  yon  unknown  and  labouring  hind, 

"  Where  all  is  fmiling  peace  ! 
"  No  thoughts  of  more  exalted  joy 
"  His  prefent  blifs  one  hour  deftroy, 

"  Nor  rob  one  moment's  eafe. 

"'The  flings  neglected  merit  feels, 

"  The  pangs  the  virtuous  man  conceals, 

"  When  crufh'd  by  wayward  fate. 
<•'  Thefe  are  not  found  beneath  his  roof, 
"  Againft  them  all  fecurely  proof, 

"  Heaven  guards  his  humble  ftate. 

"  Knowledge  of  wealth  to  few  are  given, 
"  But  mark  how  juft  the  ways  of  Heaven  ; 

"  True  joy  to  all  is  free, 
"  Nor  wealth  nor  knowledge  grant  the  boon, 
l-  'Tis  thine,  O  conference,  thine  alone, 

"  h  all  belongs  to  thee  ! 

"  Bleft  in  thy  fmiles  the  fhepherd  lives; 
"  Gay  is  his  morn  ;  his  evening  gives 

"  Content  and  fweet  repofe 
"  Without  them  —  ever,  ever  cloy'd 
"  To  fage  or  chief,  one  weary  void 

"  Is  all  that  life  beflows. 


Then  would  'ft  thou  mortal  ri 
<f  Let  innocence  of  foul  be  thine, 
««  With  a&ive  goodnefs  join'dj 


POEMS. 


659 


«  My  heart  (hall  then  confefs  thee  bleft, 
"  And  ever  lively,  jo-  ful  tafte 

••  The  pleafuresof  the  mind." 
So  fpake  the  fage  :  my  heart  replyM, 
"  How  poor,  how  blind  is  human  pride, 

"  All  joy  how  falfe  and  vain  : 
«  But  that  from  confcious  worth  which  flows, 
«  Which  gives  the  death-bed  fweet  repofe, 

«'  And  hopes  an  after  reign." 

HENG1ST  AND  MEY. 

A   BALLAD. 
Httc  novimus  ejje  nibil. 
IN  ancient  days  when  Arthur  reign'd, 

Sir  Elmer  had  no  peer ; 
And  no  young  knight  in  all  the  land, 

The  ladies  lov'd  fo  dear. 
His  fifter  Mey,  the  faireft  maid 

Of  all  the  virgin  train, 
Won  every  heart  at  Arthur's  court; 

But  all  their  love  was  vain. 
In  vain  they  lov'd,  in  vain  they  vow'd, 

Her  heart  they  could  not  move ; 
Yet  at  the  evening  hour  of  prayer, 

Her  mind  was  loft  in  love. 

The  abbefs  faw — the  abbefs  knew, 

And  urg'd  her  to  explain ; 
"  O  name  the  gentle  youth  to  me,. 

"  And  his  cosfent  I'll  gain.*N 
Long  urg'd,  long  tir'd,  fair  Mey  reply'd, 

"  His  name — how  can  I  fay  ? 
"  An  angel  from  the  fields  above, 

"  Has  rapt  my  heart  away. 
<:  But  once,  alas !  and  never  more, 

"  His  lovely  form  1  fpy'd ; 
"  One  evening  by  the  founding  fhore, 

"  All  by  the  greenwood  fide. 
"  His  eyes  to  mine  the  love  confeft, 

«  That  glow'd  with  mildeft  grace ; 
"  His  courtly  mien  and  purple  veil, 

"  Befpoke  his  princely  race. 
«  But  when  he  heard  my  brother's  horn, 

"  Fail  to  his  ihips  he  fled  ; 
«  Yet  while  I  fleep,  his  graceful  form 

"  Still  hovers  round  my  bed. 
«  Sometimes  all  clad  in  armour  bright, 

"  He  fhakes  a  warlike  lance  ; 
"  And  now  in  courtly  garments  dight, 

"He  leads  the  fprightly  dance. 

"  His  hair,  as  black  as  raven's  wing; 

«<  His  fkin — as  Chriftmas  fnow  ; 
"  His  cheeks  outvie  the  blufh  of  morn, 

"  His  lips  like  rofe-buds  glow. 
"  His  limbs,  his  arms,  his  ftature,  fhap'd 

"  By  nature's  fined  hand; 
"  His  fparkling  eyes  declare  him  born 

"  To  love,  and  to  command.'' 
The  live-long  year  fair  Mey  bcmoan'd 

Her  hopekfs pining  love: 
But  when  the  balmy  fpring  return'd, 

And  fummer  cloth' d  the  grove ; 
All  round  by  pleafant  Humber  fide, 

The  Saxon  banners  flew, 


Arfd  to  Sir  Elmer's  caftle  gates, 

The  fpearmen  came  in  view, 
'air  blufh'd  the  morn,  when  Mey  look'd  o'er 

The  caftle  walls  fo  fheen  ; 
And  lo  !  the  warlike  Saxon  youth 

Were  fporting  on  the  green. 
There  Hengift,  OftVs  eldeft  fon, 

Lean'd  on  his  burnifh'd  lance, 
And  all  the  armed  youth  around, 

Obey'd  his  manly  glance. 

riis  locks,  as  black  as  raven's  wing, 

Adown  his  fhoulders  flow'd  ; 
Eiis  checks  outvy'd  the  blufh  of  morn, 

His  lips  like  rofe-buds  glow'd. 

And  foon  the  lovely  form  of  Mey 
Has  caught  his  piercing  eyes; 

He  gives  the  fign,  the  bands  retire, 
While  big  with  love  he  fighs. 

Oh  thou,  for  whom  I  dar'd  the  feas; 

"  And  came  with  peace  or  war ! 
'  Oh,  by  that  crofs  that  veils  thy  breaft, 
"  Relieve  thy  lover's  care  ! 

"  For  thee  I'll  quit  my  father's  throne ; 

"  With  thee  the  wilds  explore ; 
"  Or  with  thee  (hare  the  Britifh  crown ; 

"  With  thee  the  crofs  adore." 
Beneath  the  timorous  virgin  blufh, 

With  love's  foft  warmth  fhe  glows ; 
So,  blufhing  through  the  dews  of  morn, 

Appears  the  opening  rofe. 

'Twas  now  the  hour  of  morning  pray'r, 

When  men  their  fins  bewail, 
And  Elmer  heard  King  Arthur's  horn, 

Shrill  founding  through  the  dale. 
The  pearly  tears  from  Mey's  bright  eyes, 

Like  April  dew-drops  fell, 
When  with  a  parting  dear  embrace, 

Her  brother  bade  farewell. 
The  crofs  with  fparkling  diamonds  bright, 

That  veil'd  the  fnowy  breaft, 
With  prayers  to  Heaven  her  lily  hands 

Have  fix'd  on  Elmer's  veil. 
Now,  with  five  hundred  bowmen  tru«, 

He's  march'd  acrofs  the  plain; 
Till  with  his  gallant  yeomandrie, 

He  join'd  King  Arthur's  train. 
Full  forty  thoufand  Saxon  fpears, 

Came  glittering  down  the  hill, 
And  with  their  fhouts  and  clang  of  armi, 

The  diftant  valleys  fill. 
Old  Offa,  drefs'd  in  Odin's  garb, 

Affam'd  the  hoary  god  ; 
And  Hengift,  like  the  warlike  Thor, 

Before  the  horfemen  rode. 

With  dreadful  rage  the  combat  burns, 

The  captains  fhout  amain  ; 
And  Elmer's  tall  victorious  ipear 

Far  glances  o'er  the  plain. 

To  flop  its  courfe  young  Hengift  flew, 
Like  lightning  o'er  the  field ; 

And  foon  his  eyes  the  well-known  cr»f3 
On  Elmer's  veil  beheld. 
T  t  ij 


THE  WORKS  OF 


The  flighted  lover  fwell'd  his  breaft, 

Hi;  eyes  (hot  living  fire ; 
And  all  his  martial  heat  before, 

To  this  was  mild  defire. 

On  his  imagin'd  rival's  front, 

With  whirlwind  fpeed  he  preft, 

And  glancing  to  the  fun,  his  fword 
Refounds  on  Elmer's  creft. 

The  foe  gave  way,  the  princely  youth 

With  heedlefs  rage  purfu'd, 
Till  trembling  in  his  cloven  helm, 

Sir  Elmer's  javelin  ftood. 

He  bow'd  his  head— -flow  dropt  hisfpear; 

The  reins  dipt  through  his  hand, 
And  ftain'd  with  blood — his  ftately  corfe 

Lay  breathlefs  on  the  ftrand. 
"  O  bear  me  off","  Sir  Elmer  cried  ; 

"  Before  my  painful  fight 
"  The  combat  fwims — yet  Hengift's  vefl 

"  I  claim  as  victor's  right." 

Brave  Hengift's  fall  the  Saxons  faw, 

And  all  in  terror  fled  ; 
The  bowmen  to  his  caftle  gates 

The  brave  Sir  Elmer  led. 
"  O  wafh.  my  wounds,  my  fifter  dear ; 

"  O  pull  this  Saxon  dart, 
*'  That  whizzing  from  young  Hengift's  arm 

"  Has  almoft  pierc'd  my  heart. 

«  Yet  in  my  hall  his  veft  fhall  hang; 

"  And  Britons  yet  unborn, 
"  Shall  -with  the  the  trophies  of  to-day 

"  Their  folemn  feafts  adorn." 

All  trembling  Mey  beheld  the  veft ; 

"  Oh,  Merlin  !"  loud  Ihe  cried ; 
"  Thy  words  are  true— my  flaughter'd  love 

"  Shall  have  a  breathlefs  bride! 

"  Oh  Elmer,  Elmer,  boaft  no  more 
"  That  low  my  Hengift  lies  ! 

"  O  Hetigift,  cruel  was  thine  arm ! 
"My  brother  bleeds  and  dies ! " 

She  fpake  —the  rofes  left  her  cheeks, 

And  life's  warm  fpirit  fled  : 
So  nipt  by  -winter's  withering  blafts, 

The  fnow-drop  bows  the  head. 
Yet  parting  life  one  ftruggle  gave, 

She  lifts  her  languid  eyes ; 
"  Return  my  Hengift,  oh  return 

«  My  flaughter'd  love,"  (he  cries. 
u  Oh— ftillhc  lives — he  fmiles  again, 

"  With  all  his  grace  he  moves ; 
«'  I  come— I  come  where  bow  nor  fpear 

"  Shall  more  difturb  our  loves." 
She  fpake — (he  dy'd.  The  Saxon  dart 

Was  drawn  from  Elmer's  fide, 
And  thrice  he  call'd  his  fifter  Mey, 

And  thrice  he  groan'd,  and  dy'd. 
Where  in  the  dale  a  mofs-grown  crofs 

O'erfhades  an  aged  thorn, 
Sir  Elmer's  and  young  Hengift's  corfe 

Were  by  the  fpearmen  borne. 
And  there,  all  clad  in  robes  of  white, 

With  many  a  Cgh  and  tear, 
The  village  maids  to  Hengift's  grave 
•  Did  Mey's  fak  body  bear. 


And  there,  at  dawn  and  fall  of  day, 
All  from  the  neighbouring  groves, 

The  turtles  wail,  in  widow'd  notes, 
And  ling  their  haplefs  loves. 

THE  SORCERESS; 

OK,  WOLFWOLD  AND  ULLA. 

An  Heroic  Ballad, 

— —  "  Prifca  fides."  VIRS. 

"  OH,  low  he  lies ;  his  cold  pale  cheek 

"  Lies  lifelefs  on  the  clay  ; 
"  Yet  ftruggling  hope — O  day-fpring  break, 
"  And  lead  me  on  my  way. 

"  On  Denmark's  cruel  bands,  O  Heaven! 

"  Thy  red-wing'd  vengeance  pour ; 
"  Before  my  Wolfwold's  fpear  be  driven— 

"  O  rife  bright  morning  hour !" 

Thus  Ulla  wail'd  the  faireft  maid 

Of  all  the  Saxon  race ; 
Thus  Ulla  wail'd,  in  nightly  (hade, 

While  tears  bedew'd  her  face. 

When  fudden  o'er  the  fir-crown'd  hiH 

The  full  orb'd  moon  arofe; 
And  o'er  the  winding  dale  fo  ftill 

Her  filver  radiance  flows. 

No  more  could  Ulla's  fearful  breaft 

Her  anxious  care  delay; 
But,  deep  with  hope  and  fear  impreftj 

She  holds  the  moonfiiine  way. 

She  left  the  bower,  and  all  alone 

She  trac'd  the  dale  fo  ftill ; 
And  fought  the  cave  with  rue  o'ergrowj^, 

Beneath  the  fir-crown'd  hill. 

Black  knares  of  blafted  oak,  embound 

With  hemlock,  fenc'd  the  cell : 
The  dreary  mouth,  half  under  ground, 

Yawn'd  like  the  gate  of  hell. 

Soon  as  the  gloomy  den  flie  fpy'd, 

Cold  horror  fhook  her  knee ; 
And  hear,  O  prophetefs,  (he  cry'd, 

A  princefs  fue  to  thee. 

Aghaft  (he  ftood  !  athwart  the  air 

The  difmal  fcreech-owl  flew ; 
The  fillet  round  her  auburn  hair 

Afunder  burft  in  two. 

Her  robe  of  fofteft  yellow  glow'd 
Beneath  the  moon's  pale  beam  J 

And  o'er  the  ground,  with  yew-boughs  ftrew'd,, 
Eflus'd  a  golden  gleam. 

The  golden  gleam  the  forcerefs  fpy'd, 

As  in  her  deepeft  cell, 
At  midnight's  magic  hour  (he  try'd 

A  tomb  o'erpowering  fpell. 

When  from  the  cavern's  dreary  womb 

Her  groaning  voice  arofe, 
"  O  come,  my  daughter,  fearlefs  come, 

"  And  fearlefs  tell  thy  woes." 

As  (hakes  the  bough  of  trembling  lea£ 

When  whirlwinds  fjudden  rife; 
As  ftands  aghaft  the  warrior  chief, 

When  his  bafe  army  flies ; 


POEMS. 


So  fhook,  fo  flood,  the  beauteous  maid, 

When  from  the  dreary  den 
A  wrinkled  hag  came  forth,  array'd 

In  matted  rags  obfcene. 
Around  her  brows,  with  hemlock  bound, 

Loofe  hung  her  afh  gray  hair ; 
As  from  two  dreary  caves  profound 

Her  blue  flam'd  eye-balls  glare. 
Her  flcin,  of  earthy  red,  appear'd 

Clung  round  her  fhouldcr  bones, 
Like  wither'd  bark,  by  lightning  fear'd, 

When  loud  the  tempeft  groans. 
A  robe  of  fqualid  green  and  blue 

Her  ghoftly  length  array'd, 
A  gaping  rent  full  to  the  view 

Her  furrow'd  ribs  betray'd. 
"  And  tell,  my  daughter,  fearlefs  tell 

"  What  forrow  brought  thee  here  ? 
"  So  may  my  power  thy  cares  expel, 

"  And  give  thee  fwecteft  cheer. 

"  O  miftrefs  of  the  powerful  fpell, 

"  King  Edric's  daughter  lee, 
"  Northumbria  to  my  father  fell, 

"  And  forrow  fell  to  me. 
"  My  virgin  heart  Lord  Wolfwold  won ; 

"  My  father  on  him  fmil'd 
"  Soon  as  he  gain'd  Northumbria's  throne, 

"  His  pride  the  youth  exil'd. 
"  Stern  Denmark's  ravens  o'er  the  feas 

"  Their  gloomy  black  wings  fpread, 
"  And  o'er  Northumbria's  hills  and  leas 

"  Their  dreadful  fquadrons  fped. 

"  Return  brave  Wolfwold,  Edric  cry'd, 
"  O  generous  warrior  hear, 

£<  My  daughter's  hand,  thy  willing  bride, 
"  Awaits  thy  conquering  fpear. 

"  The  banifh'd  youth  in  Scotland's  court 
"  Had  paft  the  weary  year; 

"  And  foon  he  heard  the  glad  report, 
"  And  foon  he  grafp'd  his  fpear. 

"  He  left  the  Scottifh  dames  to  weep, 
"  And  wing'd  with  true  love  fpeed ; 

"  Nor  day  nor  night  he  ftopt  to  fleep, 
"  And  foon  he  crofs'd  the  Tweed. 

"  With  joyful  voice,  and  raptui'd  eyes, 

"  He  prefs'd  my  willing  hand ; 
"  I  go,  my  fair,  my  love,  he  cries, 

"  To  guard  thy  father's  land. 
"  By  Edon's  fhore,  in  deathful  fray, 

"  The  daring  foe  we  meet; 
"  Ere  three  fhort  days  I  truft  to  lay 

"  My  trophies  at  thy  feet. 

"  Alas,  alas,  that  time  is  o'er, 

"  And  three  long  days  befide, 

f*  Yet  not  a  word  from  Edon's  fhore 
"  Has  cheer'd  his  fearful  bride. 

«  O  miftrefs  of  the  poT\  erful  fpell, 
"  His  doubtful  fate  decide;"— 

"  And  ceafe,  my  child,  for  all  is  well," 
The  grizly  witch  reply'd. 

Approach  my  cave,  and  where  I  place 
41  fhe  magic  circle,  (land 


"  And  fear  not  ought  of  ghaftly  face 
**  That  glides  beneath  my  wand." 

The  grizly  witch's  powerful  charms 
Then  reach'd  the  labouring  moon, 

And  cloudlefs  at  the  dire  alarms 
She  fhed  her  brighteft  noon. 

The  pale  beam  ftruggled  through  the  fhade, 
That  black'd  the  cavern's  womb, 

And  in  the  deepeft  nook  betray'd 
An  altar  and  a  tomb. 

Around  the  tomb,  in  myftic  lore, 
Were  forms  of  various  mien, 
And  efts,  and  foul-wing'd  ferpents,  bore 
The  altar's  bafe  obicene. 

'Eyelcfs  a  huge  and  ftarv'd  toad  fat 

In  corner  murk  aloof, 
And  many  a  make  and  famifh'd  bat 

Clung  to  the  crevic'd  roof. 
A  fox  and  vultures  fkeletons 

A  yawning  rift  betray'd; 
And  grappling  ftill  each  others  bones, 

The  ftrife  of  death  difplay'd. 

"  And  now,  my  child,  the  forcerefs  faid, 

"  Lord  Wolfwold's  father's  grave 
"  To  me  fhall  render  up  the  dead, 

"  And  fend  him  to  my  cave. 
«  His  fkeleton  (hall  hear  my  fpell, 

"  And  to  the  figur'd  walls 
"  His  hand  of  bone  mall  point  and  tell 

"  What  fate  his  fon  befals." 

O  cold  down  Ulla's  fnow-like  face 
The  trembling  fweat-drops  fell : 

And,  borne  by  fprights  of  gliding  ;    ce, 
The  corfe  approach'd  the  ceil. 

And  thrice  the  witch  her  magic  wand 

Wav'd  o'er  the  Ikeleton ; 
And  flowly,  at  the  dread  command, 

Up  rofe  the  arm  of  bone. 
A  cloven  fhield,  and  broken  fpear, 

The  finger  wander'd  o'er, 
Then  refted  on  a  fable  bier, 

Diftain'd  with  drops  of  gore. 
In  ghaftly  writhes,  her  mouth  fo  wide 

And  black,  the  forcerefs  throws ; 
'  And  be  thofe  figns,  my  child,"  fhe  cries, 

"  Fulfill'd  on  Wolfwold's  foes. 

'  A  happier  fpell  I  now  fhall  try ; 

"  Attend,  my  child,  attend, 
"  And  mark  what  flames  from  altar  high 
"  And  lowly  floor  afccnd. 

"  If  of  the  rofe's  fofteft  red 

"  The  blaze  (bines  forth  to  view, 
"  Then  Wolfwold  lives— but  hell  forbid 

"  The  glimmering  flame  of  blue  !" 

The  witch  then  rais'd  her  haggard  arm, 
And  wav'd  her  wand  on  high  ; 

And,  while  flie  fpoke  the  mutter'd  charm, 
Daik  lightning  fill'd  her  eye. 

Fair  Ulla's  knee  fwift  fmote  the  ground ; 

Her  hands  aloft  were  fpread ; 
And  every  joint,  as  marble  bound, 

Felt  horror's  darkeft  dread. 


Cftz. 


THE   WORKS   OF   MICKLE. 


Her  lips,  ere  while  fo  like  the  rofe, 

Were  now  as  vi'let  pale, 
And,  tumbling  in  convulfive  throes, 

Expreft  o'erwhelming  ail. 

Her  eyes,  ere  while  fo  flarry  bright, 

Where  living  luftre  fhone, 
Were  now  transform'd  to  fightlefs  white, 

Like  eyes  of  lifelefs  Hone. 

And  foon  the  dreadful  fpcll  was  o'er, 

And  glimmering  to  the  view, 
The  quivering  flame  rofe  through  the  floor, 

A  flame  of  ghaftly  blue. 

Behind  the  altar's  livid  fire, 

Low  from  the  inmoft  cave, 
Young  Wolf  wold  rofe  in  pale  attire, 

The  veftments  of  the  grave. 

His  eye  to  Ulla's  eye  he  rear'd, 

His  cheek  was  wan  as  clay, 
And  half  cut  through  his  hand  appear'd 

That  beckon'd  her  away. 

Fair  Ulla  faw  the  woeful  fhade, 

Her  heart  fbruck  at  her  fide, 
And  burft—- low  bow'd  her  liftlefs  head, 

And  down  fhe  funk,  and  dy'd. 

ALMADA  HILL. 

AN  EPJSTLE  FROM  LISBON. 
ADVERTISEMENT. 

THOUGH  no  fubjecls  are  more  proper  for  poetry 
than  thofe  which  are  founded  upon  hiftorical  re- 
trofpe<ft,  the  author  of  fuch  a  poem  lies  under  very 
particular  difadvantages:  everyone  can  underftand 
and  relifh  a.  work  merely  fictitious.,  defcriptive,  or 
fentimental ;  hut  a  previous  acquaintance,  and  even 
intimacy,  with  the  hiftory  and  characters  upon 
which  the  other  poem  is  founded,  is  abfolutely  ne- 
ceffary  to  do  juftice  to  its  author.  Without  fuch 
previous  knowledge,  the  ideas  which  he  would 
convey  pafs  unobferved,  as  in  an  unknown  tongue; 
and  the  happieft  allufion,  if  he  is  fortunate  enough 
to  attain  any  thing  worthy  of  that  name,  is  unfelt 
and  unfeen.  Under  thefe  difadvantages,  the  fol 
lowing  epiftle  is  prefented  to  the  public,  whofe 
indulgence  and  candour  the  author  has  already 
amply  experienced. 

In  the  twelfth  century,  Lifbon,  and  great  part 
of  Portugal  and  Spain,  were  in  poffeffion  of  the 
Moors.  Alphonfo  the  firft  king  of  Portugal, 
having  gained  feveral  victories  over  that  people, 
•was  laying  fiege  to  Lifbon,  when  Robert,  Duke 
of  Gloucefter,  on  his  way  to  the  Holy  Land,  ap 
peared  upon  the  coaft  of  that  kingdom.  As  the 
caufe  was  the  fame,  Robert  was  eafily  perluadcd 
to  make  his  firft  crufade  in  •  Portugal.  He  de 
manded  that  the  flprtning  of  the  caftle  of  Lifbon 
fituated  on  a  confiderable  hill,  and  whofe  ruins 
Jhow  it  to  have  been  of  great  ftrength,  fhould  be 
allotted  to  him,  while  Alphonfo  was  to  affail  the 
•walls  and  the  city.  Both  leaders  were  fuccefsful 
and  Alphonfo,  among  the  rewards  which  he  bc- 
Aowed  upon  the  Englifh,  granted  to  thofe  who 
were  wounded,  or  unable  to  proceed  te  Paleftine 
the  caftle  of  Almada,  and  the  adjoining  lands. 

The  river  T^gus,  below  and  oppofite  to  Lifbon 
is  edged  by  fleep  grotefque  rocks,  particularly  on 
the  fouth  fide.  Thofe  911  the  fouth  are  generally 


ligher  and  much  more  magnificent  and  pidturcfqae 
ban  the  Cliffs  of  Dover.  I)  pon  one  of  the  higheft 
f  thefe,  and  directly  oppofite  to  Lifbon,  remain 
he  ftately  ruins  of  the  cailie  of  Ainiada. 

In  December  1779,  as  the  author  was  wander- 
ng  among  thefe  ruins,  he  was  flruck  with  the 
dea,  and  formed  the  plan  of  the  following  poem; 
an  idea  which,  it  may  be  allowed,  was  natural  to 
.he  tranflator'of  the  Lufiad;  and  the  plan  may,  in 
bme  degree,  be  called  a  fuppleriient  to  that  work. 

The  following  poem,  except,  the  correctors  and 
a  few  line*,  was  written  i:i  Portugal.  The  de- 
criptive  parts-  are  ftridtiy  local.  The  fine?  pro- 
peel:  of  Lifbon  and  the  Tagus  (which  is  there 
about  four  miles  broad),  is  from  Almada,  which 
alfo  commands  the  adjacent  country,  from  the 
rock  of  Cintra  to  the  caftle  and  city  of  Palmtla, 
an  extent  of  above  fifty  miles.  This  magnificent 
view  is  completed  by  the  extenftve  opening  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Tagus  about  ten  miles  below,  which 
difcovers  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

AN  EPISTLE  FROM  LISBON. 

WHILE  you,  myfriend, from  low'ringwint'ry  plains, 
Now  pale  with  fnows,  now  black  with  drizzling 

rains, 

From  leaflefs  woodlands,  and  diflionour'd  bowers 
Mantled  by  gloomy  mifts,  or  lafh'd  by  mowers 
Of  hollow  moan,  while  not  a  ft  niggling  beam 
Steals  from  the  fun  to  play  on  IfiV  ftream  ; 
While  from  thefe  fcenesby  England's  winter  fpread 
Swift  to  the  cheerful  hearth  your  fleps  are  led, 
Pleas' d  from  the  threat'ning  tempcft  to  retire 
And  join  the  circle  round  the  foc;al  fire  ; 
In  other  climes  through  fun  baflc'd  fcenes  I  ftray, 
As  the  fair  landfcape  leads  my  thoughtful  way, 
As  upland  path,  oft  winding,  bidb  me  rove 
Where  orange  bowers  invite,  or  olive'grove, 
No  fullen  phantoms  brooding  o'er  my  breaft, 
The  genial  influence  of  the  clime  I  tafte  : 
Yet  ftill  regardful  of  my  native  fhore, 
In  evesy  fcene.  my  roaming  eyes  explore, 
Whate'er  its  afpedt,  ftill  by  mem'ry  brought, 
My  fading  country  rufh.es  on  my  thought. 

While  now  perhaps  the  clafiic  page  you  turn, 
And  warm'd  with  honeft  indignation  burn, 
Till  hopelefs,  ficklied  by  the  climate's  gloom, 
Your  generon*  fears  call  forth  Britannia's  doom, 
What  hoftile  fpears  her  facred  lawns  invade, 
By  friends  deferted,  by  her  chief  betray'd. 
Low  fall'n  and  vanquifh'd  ' — I,  with  mind  ferene 
As  Lifboa's  fky,  yet  penfive  as  the  fcene 
Around,  and  penfive  feems  the  fcene  to  me, 
From  other  ills  my  country's  fate  forefee. 

Not  from  the  hands  that  wield  Iberia's  fnear, 
Not  from  the  hands  that  Gaul's  proud  thunders 

bear, 

Nor  thofe  that  turn  on  Albion's  breaft  the  (word 
Ueat  down  of  late  by  Albion  when  it  gor'd 
1  heir  own,  who  impious  doom  their  parents's  fall 
Beneath  the  world's  great  foe  th'  infidious  Gaul; 
Yes,  not  from  thefe  the  immedicable  wound 
Of  Albion — Other  is  the  bane  profound 
Deftin'd  alone  to  touch  her  mortal  part ; 
Herfelf  is  fick  and  poifoned  at  the  heart. 

O'er  Tago's  banks  where'er  I  roll  mine  eyes 
The  gallant  deeds  of  ancient  days  arife  ; 
The  fcenes  the  Lufian  Mufes  fond  difplayTl 
Before  me  oft,  as  oft  at  eve  I  ftiay'd 


POEMS. 


663 


By  Ifis'  hallowed  ftream.     Oft  now  the  ftrand 
Where  Gama  march'd  his  death-devoted  *  band, 
While  l,ifboa  aw'd  with  horror  faw  him  fpread 
The  daring  i'ails  that  firft  to  India  led ; 
And  oft  Almada'scaftled  deep  infpircs 
The  penfive  mufe's  vifionary  fires ; 
Ahnada  Hill  to  Engliih  memory  dear, 
While  fhades  of  Jtnglifh  heroes  wander  here '. 

To  ancient  Engliih  valour  facred  ftill 
Remains,  and  ever  fhall,  Almada  Hill ; 
The  hill  and  lawns  to  Engliih.valour  given 
What  time  the  Arab  Moors  from  Spain  were  driven, 
Before  the  banners  of  the  crofs  fubdued, 
When  Lifboa's  towers  were  bath'd  in   Moorifh 

blood 

By  Glofter's  lance. — Romantic  days  that  yield 
Of  gallant  deeds  a  wide  luxuriant  field 
Dear  to  the  mufe  that  loves  the  fairy  plains, 
Where  ancient  honour  wild  and  ardent  reigns. 

Where  high  o'er  Tago's  flood  Almada  lovvrs, 
Amid  the  folemn  pomp  of  mouldering  towers, 
Supinely  feated,  wide  and  far  around 
My  eye  delighted  wanders. — Here  the  bound 
Of  fair  Europa  o'er  the  ocean  rears 
Its  weftern  edge ;  where  dimly  difappears 
The  Atlantic  wave,  the  flow  defcending  day 
Mild  beaming  pours  ferene  the  gentle  ray 
Of  Lufitania's  winter,  filvering  o'er 
The  tower-like  fummits  of  the  mountain  fhore ; 
Dappling  the  lofty  cliffs  that  coldly  throw 
Their  fable  horrors  o'er  the  vales  below. 
Far  round  the  ftately-fhoulder'd  river  bends 
Its  giant  arms,  and  fea-likewide  extends 
Its  midland  bays,  with  fertile  iflands  crown'd, 
And  lawns  for  Englifh  valour  flill  renown'd; 
Given  to  Cornwallia's  gallant  fons  of  yore, 
Cormvallia's  name  the  fmiling  paftures  bore ; 
And  fhill  their  lord  his  Englifli  lineage  boafU 
i-'rom  Holland  famous  in  the  Croil'ade  hods. 
Where  fea-ward  narrower  rolls  the  mining  tide 
Through  hills  by  hills  embofom'd  on  each  fide, 
Monaftic  walls  in  every  glen  arife 
In  coldeft  white  fair  gliilening  to  the  fkies 
Aniid  the  brown-brow'd  rocks;  and,  far  as  fight, 
Proud  domes  and  villages  array'd  in  white  f 

*  The  expedition  of  Vafco  de  Gama,  tie  dif cover er 
of  tie  E"J}  Indies,  icat  extremely  unpopular ',  at  it  ivas 
ejleemcd  imprafiicable.  His  embarkation  is  Jirong!y 
marked  by  Oforius  the  hiforian.  Game,,  before  he  iff/;/ 
m  beard,  fpent  the  night  along  ivith  the  creivs  of  his. 
fqitadrcn  in  tie  chapel  of  our  Lady  at  Belrm,  on  the  f  pot 
inhere  the  noble  Gothic  church  noiv  Jlands  adjoining  the 
convent  of  St.  Jerome. 

In  the  chapel  they  bound  tbemf;-l<ves  to  obedience  to  Ga- 
ma,  and  devoted  thernfelves  to  death.  "  On  the  next  day 
"  I'.'hcn  the  adventurers  marched  to  the  /tips,  the  Jhore 
"  of Belem  presented one  of  the  mojl  folemn  and  ajfcffling 
"  femes  perh'aps  recorded  hi  bijlvry.  The  beach  "was 
"  covered -with  the  inhabitants  of  Lijhon.  A  numerous 
"  proceffion  "f  priejts  in  their  robes  fung  anthems,  and 
"  offered  up  invocations  to  heaven.  £very  one  beheld 
"  the  adventurers  as  brave  innocent  men  going  to  a  dread- 
"  fill  execution,  as  nijhing  upon  certain  death"  Intro- 
ducT;.  to  the  Lufiad. 

\  The  houfts  in  Portugal  are  generally  •whitened  on 
the  outjide,  ivhit:  being  ejlecmed  as  repulfive  oftbe  rays 
tflbefin. 


Climb  o'er  the  fleeps.and  through  the  dufky  green 
Of  olive  groves,  and  orange  bowers  between, 
Speckled  with  glowing  red,  unnnmbtr'd  gleam— 
And  Lifboa  towering  o'er  the  lordly  ftream 
Her  marble  palaces  and  temples  fpreads 
Wildly  magmfic  o'er  the  loaded  heads 
Of  bending  hills,  along  whofe  high-pii'd  bafe 
The  port  capacious,  in  a  moon'd  embrace, 
Throws  her  maft-foreft,  waving  on  the  gale 
The  vanes  of  every  fhore  that  hoifts  the  fail. 

Here  while  the  fun  from  Europe's  breaft  retires, 
Let  fancy,  roaming  as  the  fcene  infpires, 
Purfue  the  prefent  and  the  pall  reftore, 
And  nature's  purpofe  in  her  fteps  explore. 

Nor  you,  my  friend,  admiring  Rome,  difdain 
Th'  Iberian  fields  and  Lufitanian  Spain. 
While  Italy,  obfcur'd  in  tawdry  blaze, 
A  motley,  modern  character  difplays, 
And  languid  trims  her  long  exhaufted  ftore ; 
Iberia's  fields  with  rich  and  genuine  ore       .  • 
Of  ancient  manners  woo  the  traveller's  eye  ; 
And  fcenes  untrac'd  in  every  landfcapc  lie. 
Hera  every  various  dale  with  leffons  fraught 
Calls  to  the  wanderer's  vifionary  thought 
What  mighty  deeds  the  lofty  hills  of  Spain 
Of  old  have  witnei's'd — From  the  evening  main 
Her  mountain  tops  the  Tynan  pilots  faw 
In  lightnings  wrapt,  and  thrill'd  with  facredawe 
Through  Greece  the  tales  of  Goigons,  Hydras 

fpread, 

And  Geryon  dreadful  with  the  triple  head  ; 
The  ftream  of  *  Lethe,  and  the  dread  abodes 
Of  forms  gigantic,  and  infernal  gods. 
But  foon,  by  fearlefs  lull  of  gold  impell'd, 
They  min'd  the  mountain,  and  explor'd  the  field  ; 
Till  Rome  and  Carthage,  fierce  for  empire,  ftrove, 
As  for  their  prey  two  iamifh'd  birds  of  Jove. 
The  rapid  Durius  then  and  Boeti's  flood 
Were  dy'd  with  Roman  and  with  Punic  blood, 
While  oft  the  lengthening  plains  and  mountain 

fides 

Seem'd  moving  on,  flow  rolling  tides  on  tides, 
When  from  Pyrene's  fummits  Afric  pour'd 
Her  armies,  and  o'er  Rome  deftru&ion  lowr'd. 

Here  while  the  youth  revolves  fome  hero's  fame, 
If  patriot  zeal  his  Britifh  breall  inflame, 
Here  let  him  trace  the  fields  to  freedom  dear 
Where  low  in  duft  lay  Rome's  invading  fpear; 
Where  Viriatus  f  proudly  trampled  o'er 
Fafces  and  Roman  eagles  fteept  in  gore  ; 
Or  where  he  fell,  w.ith  honeft  laurels  crown'd, 
The  awful  victim  of  a  treacherous  wound ; 
A  wound  ftill  bath'd  in  honour's  generous  tear, 
While  freedom's  woundsthebraveaudgoodrevcre; 

*  The  river  of  Lima,  in  the  north  of  Portugal,  fiid 
to  le  thi  Lethe  of  the  ancients,  is  thus  mentioned  by  Gella- 
r iui  in  his  Geographia  Antiqua;  "  Fabubfus  Oblivi- 
"  onisfiiii'ins  Limccas,  ullra  Liijttanitini  infeptenirione. 
It  runs  through  a  mojl  romantic  and  beautiful  dijlriff  ; 
from  -which  lircumjlance  it  probably  re^ei-jed  the  name  of 
the  River  of  Oblivion,  thejirf:  Jlran^trs  wh'j  vifited  it, 
forgetting  their  native  country,  and  being  -milling  to  ct/n- 
timie  on  its  banks.  The  fame  reafon  of  forgetfuliiffs  it 
afiribed  to  the  Letos  by  Homer,  Odyf.  ix.  There  it 
another  Lethe  of  the  ancients  in  Africa. 

|    This  great  man  is  called  by  florus  tie  Romulus  of 
Spain,     What  is  larcfjid  of  him  is  agreeab 
T  t  iiij 


664 


THE   WORKS   OF   MICKLE.. 


Still  pourjng  frefii  th1  inexpiable  (tain 

O'er  Rome's  patrician  honour  falfe  and  vain ! 

Or  {hould  the  pride  of  bold  revolt  infpire, 
And  touch  his  bofom  with  unhallowed  fire ; 
If  merit  fpurn'd  demand  ftern  facrifice, 
O'erEv'ra's  *  fields  let  dread  Sertorius  rife. 
Dy'd  in  his  country's  blood,  in  all  the  pride 
Of  wrongs  reveng'd,  illuftrious  let  him  ride 
Enfhrin'd,  o'er  Spain,  in  victory's  dazzling  rays, 
Till  Rome  lock  pale  beneath  the  mounting  blaze. 
But  let  the  Brit:fh  wanderer  through  the  dales 
Of  Ev'ra  ftfay,  while  midnight  temped  wails: 
There  as  the  hoary  villagers  relate 
Sertorius,  Sylla,  Marius,  weep  their  fate, 
Their  fpedtres  gliding  on  the  lightning  blue, 
Oft  doom'd  their  ancient  ftations  to  renew  ; 
Sertorius  bleeding  on  Perpenna's  knife, 
And  Marius  finking  in  ambition's  ftrife ; 
As  foreft  boars  entangled  in  a  chain, 
Dragg'd  on,  as  (tings  each  leader's  rage  or  pain; 
And  each  the  furious  leader  in  his  turn, 
Till  now  they  lie,  a  ghaftly  wreck  forlorn. 

And  fay, ye  tramplers  on  your  country's  mounds, 
Say  who  (hall  fix  the  fwelling  torrent's  bounds  ? 
Or  who  (hall  fail  the  pilot  of  the  flood  ? 
Alas,  full  oft  fonie  worthlefs  trunk  of  wood 
Is  whiri'd  into  the  port,  blind  fortune's  boaft, 
While  nobleil  veflcls,  founder'd,  ftrew  the  coafl ! 

Jf  wars  of  fairer  fame  and  old  applaufe, 
That  bear  the  title  of  our  country's  caufe 
To  humanize  barbarians,  and  to  raife 
Our  country's  prowcfs,  their  afferted  praife; 
If  thefe  delight,  Hifpania's  dales  difpiay 
The  various  arts  and  toils  of  Roman  iway. 
Here  jealous  Cato  f  laid  the  cities  wafte, 
And  Julius  f  here  in  fairer  pride  rcpiac'd, 
Till  ages  faw  the  labours  of  the  plough 
By  every  river,  and  the  barren  bough 
Of  laurel  (haded  by  the  olive's  bloom, 
And  grateful  Spain  the  ftrength  of  lordly  Rome ; 
Hers  mighty  b~rds  f,  and  hers  the  facred  earth 
That  gate  the  v.-orld  a  friend  in  Trajan's  birth. 

When  Rome's  wide  empire,  a  luxurious  prey, 
Debas'd  in  falfe  refinement  nervclefs  lay, 
The  northern  hordes  on  Europe's  various  climes, 
Planted  their  ruling  virtues  and  their  crimes. 
Cloifter'd  by  Tyber's  ftream  the  (lothful  ftaid, 
To  Seine  and  Leire  the  gay  and  friv'lous  ftray'd 
A  fordid  group  the  Belgian  marlhes  pleas'd, 
And  Saxony's  wild  foreft -freedom  feiz'd, 
There  held  her  juries,  pois'd  the  legal  fcales  ;-— 
And  Spain's  romantic  hills  and  lonely  dales 
The  penfive  lover  fought ;  and  Spain  became 
The  land  of  gallantry  and  amorous  flame. 
Hail,  favour'd  clime  !  whofe  lone  retreats  infpire 
The  foftefl  dreams  of  languifliing  defire, 
Affections  trembling  with  a  glow  all  holy, 
Wildly  fublime,  and  fweetly  melancholy  ; 
Till  rapt  devotion  ro  the  fair,  refine 
And  bend  each  pafiion  low  at  honour's  fhrine. 
So  felt  the  iron  Goth  when  here  he  brought 
His  worfhip  of  the  fair  with  valour  fraught  : 

*  Eliora,  naiv  Evora,  ivas  tbe  principal  residence  of 
Serterius. 

t  A:cording  to  hijlory,  this  different  policy  is  f.riJiing- 
ly  cbara&erijli:  of  tbofe  celebrated  HOXCt, 

\  Lufan,  Martial)  Serwca* 


Soon  as  Iberia's  mountains  fix'd  his  home, 

He  rofe  a  character  unknown  to  Rome  ; 

His  manners  wildly  colour'd  as  the  flowers 

And  flaunting  plumage  of  Brazilian  bowers : 

New  to  the  world  as  thefe,  yet  polifh'd  more 

Than  e'er  the  pupil  of  the  Attic  tare 

Might  proudly  boaft.  On  man's  bold  arm  robuft 

The  tender  fair  reclines  with  fondeit  truft : 

With  nature's  fineft  touch  exulting  glows 

The  manly  bread  which  that  fond  aid  beftows  : 

That  firft  of  generous  joys  on  man  beftow'd, 

In  Gothic  Spain  in  all  its  fervour  glow'd. 

Then  frghburn'd  honour;  and  the  dread  alarms 

Of  danger  then  affum'd  the  deareft  charms. 

What  for  the  fair  was  dar'd  or  fuffer'd,  bore 

A  faint-like  merit,  and  was  envied  more ; 

Till  led  by  love-fick  fancy's  dazzled  flight, 

From  court   to  court  forth   roana'd  adventure's 

knight ; 

And  tilts  and  tournaments,  in  mimic  wars, 
Supplied  the  triumphs  and  the  honour'd  fears 
Of  arduous  battles  for  their  country  fought, 
Till  the  keen  relifh  of  the  marvellous  wrought 
All  wild  and  fever'd  and  each  peaceful  (hade, 
Withbatter'd  armour  deck'd,  its  knight  difplay'd, 
In  foothing  tranfport,  liftening  to  the  ftrain 
Of  dwarfs  and  giants,  and  of  monfters  (lain  ; 
Of  (pells  all  horror,  and  enchanters  dire, 
And  the  fweet  banquet  of  the  amorous  fire,  [thrall, 
Whc-n  knights  and  ladies   chafte,   reliev'd   from 
Holdove's  high  holiday  in  bower  and  hall. 

Twas  thus,  all  pleating  to  the  languid  thought, 
With  magic  power  the  tales  of  magic' wrought ; 
Till  by  the  mufes  arm'd,  in  all  the  ire 
Of  wit,  refiftiefs  as  e!e<ftric  fire, 
Forth  rode  La  Mancha's  knight ;  and  fudden  fled 
Gobiins  andbeanteous  nymphs,  and  pagans  dread, 
As  the  delirious  dream  of  ficknefs  flies, 
When  health  returning  fm!les  irom  vernal  flues. 

But  turn  we  now  from  chivalry  difeas'd, 
To  chivalry  when  honour's  wreath  (he  feiz'd 
From    wifdom's   hand. — From    Taurus'    rugged 

fteep, 

And  Caucafus,  fir  round  with  headlong  fweep, 
As  wolves  wild  howling  from  their  famifh'd  den, 
Rufh'd  the  devouring  bands  of  Sarazen : 
Their  favage  genius,  giant-like  and  blind, 
Trampling  with  ful.cn  joy  on  human  kind, 
Aflyria  lay  its  own  uncover'd  grave, 
And  Gailia  trembled  to  the  Atlantic  wave : 
In  awful  wafte  the  faireft  cities  moan'd, 
And  human  liberty  expiring  groan'd 
Wh;n  chivalry  arofe :— Her  ardent  eye 
Sublime,  that  fondly  mingled  with  the  Iky, 
Where  patience  watch'd,  and   ftedfaft  purpofe 

frown'd, 

Mix'd  with  devotion's  fire,  (he  darted  round, 
Stern  and  indignant ;  on  her  glittering  fhield 
The  crofs  (he  bore,  and,  proudly  to  the  field, 
High  plum'd  (he  rufh'd ;  by  honour's  dazzling 

fir'd, 

Confcious  of  Heaven's  own  caufe,  and  all  infpir'd 
By  holy  vows,  as  on  the  frowning  tower 
The  lightning  vollies,  on  the  crefled  power 
Of  Sarazen  (he  wing'd  her  jav'lin's  way, 
And  the  wide-wafting  giant  proftrate  lay. 

Let  fupercilious  wifdom's  fmiling  pride 
The  paffion  wild  of  thefe  bold  days  deride  j 


POEMS. 


But  let  the  humbler  fage  with  reverence  own,    "1 
Thatfomethingfacred  glows,  of  name  unknown,  J» 
Glows  in  the  deeds  that  Heaven  delights  to  crown  ;j 
Something  that  boafts  an  impulle  uncontroul'd 
By  fchool-taught  prudence,  and  its  maxims  cold. 
Fir'd  at  the  thought,  methinks  on  facred  ground 
I  tread  ;  where'er  I  caft  mine  eyes  around, 
Palmda's  hill,  *  and  Cintra's  fummlts  tell 
How  the  grim  Sarazen's  dread  legions  fell ; 
Turbans  and  cymetersin  carnage  roll'd, 
And  their  moon'd  enfigns  torn  from  every  hold : — 
Yes,  let  the  youth  whofe  generous  fearch  explores 
The  various  leflbns  of  .Iberia's  fiibres, 
Let  him  as  wandering  at  the  mufe's  hour 
Of  eve  or  morn  where  low  the  Moorifh  tow'r, 
Fall'n  from  its  rocky  height  and  tyrant  fway, 
Lies  fcatter'd  o'er  the  dale  in  fragments  gray, 
Let  him  with  joy  behold  the  hills  around 
With  olive  foreils,  and  with  vineyards  crown'd, 
All  grateful  pouring  on  the  hands  that  rear 
Their  fruit,  the  fruitage  of  the  bounteous  year. 

Then  let  his  mind  to  fair  Ionia  turn, 

Alas !  how  wafle  Ionia's  landfcapes  mourn ; 
And  thine,  O  beauteous  Greece,  amid  the  tow'rs 
Where  dreadful  flill  theTurkifti  banner  low'rs; 
Beneath  whofe  gloom,  unconfcious  of  the  ftain 
That  dims  his  foul,  the  peafant  hugs  his  chain. 
And  whence  thefe  woes,  debafing  human  kind  ? 
Eunuchs  in  heart,  in  polifh'd  floth  reclin'd, 
Thy  fons,  degenerate  Greece,  ignobly  bled, 
And  fair  Byzantium  bow'd  th'  imperial  head ; 
While  Tago's  iron  race,  in  dangers  fteel'd, 
All  ardour,  dar'd  the  horrors  of  the  field. 
The  tow'rs  of  Venice  trembled  o'er  her  flood, 
And  Paris'  gates  aghaft  and  open  flood ; 
Low  lay  her  peers  on  Fontarabia's  f  plains : 
And  Lifboa  groan'd  beneath   ftern   Mah'met's 

chains : 
Vain  was  the  hope  the  North  might  reft   un- 

fpoil'd; 

When  ftern  Iberia's  fpirit  fierce  recoil'd. 
As  from  the  toils  the  wounded  lion  bounds, 
And  tears  the  hunters  and  the  fated  hounds; 
So  fmarting  with  his  wounds  th'  Iberian  tore, 
And  to  his  fun-fcorch'd  regions  drove  the  Moor : 
The  vengeful  Moors,  as  maftiffs  on  their  prey, 
Return'd ;  as  heavy  clouds  their  deep  array 
Blacken'd  o'er  Tago's  banks. — As  Sagres  f  braves 
And  ftems  the  furious  rage  of  Afric's  waves, 
So  brav'd,  fo  ftood  the  Liifitanian  bands, 
The  fouthern  bulwark  of  Europa's  lands. 
Such  were  the  foes  by  chivalry  repell'd, 
And  fuch  the  honours  that  adorn'd  her  Ihield. 

*  Palmela's  hill  and  Cintra's  fummits— are  kail 
fcen  from  A/mada,  and  -were  principal  forts  of  the 
Moors.  They  iver<.Jlor»tfd  by  Alpbonfo  the  Firjl,  about 
tie  time  of  the  conqveft  of  Li/Ion. 

•j-  The  irruption  of  tin-  Maliommedans  into  Europe 
gave  rife  to  thatfiecies  of  poetry  called  Romance.  Tie 
Orlando  Furiofa  is  founded  upon  tie  in-vajitm  of  France , 

When  Charlemaigne  with  all  his  peerage  fell 
By  Fontarabia— — — 

MILTON. 

\  The  promontory  of  Sagrez,  tubere  Henry  Duke  of 
Vifeo  rejided  and  •Jlablijled  1>L  ,\;\val  fcbool,  /<•  en  tiff 
foutbern  fart  of  Portugal  optofitt  to  Afri(a, 


And  aflc  what  Chriftian  Europe  owes  the  high  "J 
And  ardent  foul  of  gallant  chivalry,  C. 

AJk,  and  let  Turkifh  Europe's  groans  reply  !      j 

As  through  the  piclurM  abbey  window  gleams 
The  evening  fun,  with  bold  though  fading  beams, 
So  through  the  reverend  fhade  of  ancient  days, 
Gleam  thefe  bold  deeds  with  dim  yet  golden  rays. 
But  let  not  glowing  fancy  as  it  warms 
O'er  thefe,  high  honour's  youthful  pride  in  arms, 
Forget  the  flern  ambition,  and  the  worth 
Of  minds  mature,  by  patriot  kings  call'd  forth  ; 
That  worth  which  rous'd  the  nation  to  explore 
Old  ocean's  wildefl  waves  and  f'artheft  fhore. 

By  human  eye  untcmpted,  unexplor'd, 
An  awful  folitude,  old  ocean  roarM  : 
As  to  the  fcarfi-1  dove's  impatient  eye, 
Appears  the  height  untry'd  of  upper  fky  ; 
So  feem'd  the  lall  dim  wave,  in  boundlcfs  fpace 
Involv'd  and  loft,  when  Tago's  galhint  race, 
As  eagles  fixing  on  the  fun  their  eyes 
Through  gulfs  unknown  explor'd  the  morningfldes; 
And  taught  the  wondering  world  the  grand  defiga 
Of  parent  Heaven,  that  ihore  to  ftiore  mould  join 
In  bands  of  mutual  aid,  from  flcy  to  Iky, 
And  ocean's  wildeft  waves  the  chain  fupply. 

And  here,  my  friend,  how  many  a  trophy  woos; 
The  Briton's  earned  eye,  and  Britilh  mufe  ! 
Here  bids  the  youthful  traveler's  care  forego, 
The  arts  of  elegance  and  polifli'd  (how  ; 
Bids  other  arts  his  nobler  thoughts  engage 
And  wake  to  higheft  aim  his  patriot  rage  ; 
Thofe  arts  which  rais'd  that  race  of  men,  \vh» 

fhone 

The  heroes  of  their  age  on  Lifboa's  throne. 
What  mighty  deeds  in  filial  order  flow'd, 
While  each  ftill  brighter  than  its  parent  glow'd, 
Till  Henry's  naval  fchool  its  heroes  pour'd 
From  pole  to  pole,  wherever  ocean  roar'd! 
Columbus,  Gama,  and  Magellan's  name, 
Its  deathlefs  boaft  ;  and  all  of  later  fame 
Its  offspring  —  kindling  o'er  the  view  the  mufe 
The  naval  pride  of  thofe  bright  days  reviews  i 
Sees  Gama's  fails,  that  firft  to  India  bore, 
In  awful  hope  evanifh  from  the  ftiore  ; 
Sees  from  the  filken  regions  of  the  morn 
What  fleets  of  gay  triumphant  vanes  return  ! 
What  heioes,  plum'dwith  conqueft,  proudly  bring 
The  eaft'.rn  fceptres  to  the  Luiian  king  ! 
When  fudden,  rifing  on  the  evening  gale, 
Methinks  I  hear  the  oceans  murmurs  wail, 
And  every  breeze  repeat  the  woeful  tale, 
How    bow'd,    how    fell   proud    Lifboa's   naval 
throne—  [on! 

Ah  Heaven,  how  cold  the  bodding  thoughts  rufti 
Methinks  I  hear  the  fhades  that  hover  round 
Of  Englifh  heroes  heave  the  figh  profound, 
Prophetic  of  the  kindred  fate  that  lowers, 
O'er  Albion's  fleets  and  London's  proudeft  towers. 

Broad  was  the  firm-bus'  d  ftru&ure  and  fublime, 
That  Gama  fondly  rear'd  on  India's  clime  : 
On  juftice  and  benevolence  he  plac'd 
Its  ponderous  weight,  and  warlike  trophies  grac'd 
Its  mounting  turrets;  and  o'er  Afia  wide 
Great  Albuqueik  *  renowii'd  its  generous  pride. 

*  Albuquerk,   Samfayo,    JVi/n/o,    CaJ}r»,    are   dif- 
tinguijced  characters  in  tbt  L>ffiadt  and  in  the 
of  fortugueje  AJia* 


T 
3 


666 


THE   WORKS   OF   MICKLE- 


The  injnr'd  native  fought  its  friendly  {hade, 
And  India's  princes  blelt  its  powerful  aid  : 
Till  from  corrupted  paffion's  bafeft  hour    ' 
Rofe  the  dread  demon  of  tyrannic  power. 
Sampayo's  heart,  where  dauntlefs  valour  reign'd, 
And  counfel  deep,  fhe  feiz'd  and  foul  profan'd. 
Then  the  ftraight  road  where  facred  juftice  leads, 
"Where  for  its  plighted  compact  honour  bleeds, 
Was  left,  and  holy  patriot  zeal  gave  place 
To  luft  of  gold  and  felf-devotion  bafe : 
Deceitful  art  the  chief's  fole  guide  became, 
And  breach  of  faith  was  wifdom ;  Daughter,  fame. 
Yet  though  from  far  his  hawk  eye  mark'd  its  prey, 
Soon  through  the  rocks  that   croft   his  crooked 

way, 

As  a  toil'd  bull,  fiercely  he  ftumbled  on, 
Till  low  he  lay  difhonour'd  and  o'erthrown. 

Others,  without  his  valour  or  his  art, 
With  all  his  interefted  rage  of  heart, 
Follow'd,  as  blighting  mifts  on  Gama's  toil, 
And  undermin'd  and  rend  the  mighty  pile ; 
Convulfions  dread  its  deep  foundations  tore, 
Its  bending  head  the  fcath  of  lightning  bore  : 
Its  falling  turrets  defolation  fpread  ; 
And  from  its  faithlefs  (hade  in  horror  fled 
The  native  tribes — yet  not  at  once  fubdu'd ; 
Its  priftine  ftrength  long  ftorms  on  ftorms  with- 

ftood; 

A  Nunio's  juftice,  and  a  Caftro's  fword, 
Oft  rais'd  its  turrets,  and  its  dread  reftor'd. 
Yet,  like  the  funftiine  of  a  winter  day 
On  Norway's  coaft,  foon  died  the  tranfient  ray. 
A  tyrant  race  who  own'd  no  country*,  came, 
Deep  to  entrench  themfelves,  their  only  aim ; 
With  luft  of  rapine  fever'd  and  athirft, 
With  the  unhallow'd  rage  of  game  accurft ; 
Againft  each  fpring  of  action,  on  the  breaft 
For  wifeft  ends,  by  nature's  hand  impreft, 
Stern  war  they  wag'd ;  and  blindly  ween'd,  alone 
On  brutal  dread,  to  fix  their  cruel  throne. 
The  wife  and  good,  with  indignation  fir'd, 
Silent  from  their  unhallow'd  board  retir'd  ; 
The  bafe  and  cunning  ftaid,  and,  Haves  avow'd, 
Submifs  to  every  infult  fouling  bow'd. 
Yet  while  they  fniil'd  and  bow'd  the  abject  head, 
In  chains  unfclt  their  tyrant  lords -they  led; 
Their  avarice,  watching  as  a  bird  of  prey, 
O'er  every  weaknefs,  o'er  each  vice  held  fway ; 
Till  fecret  art  affum'd  the  thwarting  face, 
And  dictate  bold  ;  and  ruin  and  difgrace 
Clos'd  the  unworthy  fcene.     Now  trampled  low 
Beneath  the  injur'd  native,  and  the  foe 
From  Belgia  lur'd  by  India's  coftly  prey, 
Thy  glorious  ftruclure,  Gama,  proftrate  lay, 
And  lies  in  defolated  awful  gloom, 
Dread  and  inftructive  as  a  ruin'd  tomb. 

Nor  lefs  on  Tago's  than  on  India's  coaft 
"Was  ancient  Lufian  virtue  ftain'd  and  loft : 
On  Tago's  banks,  heroic  ardour's  foes, 
A  foft,  luxurious,  tinfel'd  race,  arofe ; 

*  Before  tbe  total  declenfion  of  the  Porttiguefe  in  Afia  ; 
and  ivhile  they  "were  fubjeft  to  Spain,  the  principal  peo 
ple,  fays  the  bijlorian  Fnria,  tuba  ivcre  mojlly  a  mixed 
face  born  in  India, lojl  all  aJfsSiion  for  tbe,  mother  country, 
nor  had  any  regard  for  any  of  the  provinces  -where  they 
viere  only  the  fens  of  grangers  ;  and  prefent  emolument 
ktcamf  their  file  o!>jefl. 


Of  lofty  boaftful  look  and  pompous  fhow, 
Triumphant  tyrants  o'er  the  weak  and  low: 
Yet  wildly  ftarting  from  the  gaming  board 
At  every  diftant  brandifh  of  the  fword ; 
Already  conquer'd  by  uncertain  dread, 
Imploring  peace  with  feeble  hands  outfpread  ;— 
Such  peace  as  trembling  fuppliants  ftill  obtain, 
Such  peace  they  found  beneath  the  yoke  of  Spain ; 
And  the  wide  empires  of  the  eaft  no  more 
Pour'd  their  redundant  horns  on  Lifboa's  fliore. 

Alas,  my  friend,  how  vain  the  faireft  boaft 
Of  human  pride  !  how  foon  is  empire  loft ! 
The  pile  by  ages  reur'd  to  awe  the  world, 
By  one  degenerate  race  to  ruin  hurl'd  ! 
And  fhall  the  Briton  view  that  downward  race 
With  eye  unmov'd,  and  no  fad  likenefs  trace ! 
Ah  Heaven  !  in  every  fcene,  by  memory  brought, 
My  fading  country  rufhes  on  my  thought. 
.   From  Lifboa  now  the  frequent  vefper  bell 
Vibrates  o'er  Tago's  ftream  with  folemn  knell. 
Turn'd  by  the  call  my  penfive  eye  furveys 
That  mighty  fcene  of  hiil'ry's  (hame  and  praife. 
Methinks  I  hear  the  yells  of  horror  rife 
From  flaughter'd  thoufands  (bricking  *  to  the  fkies, 
As  factious  rage  or  blinded  zeal  of  yore       [gore. 
Roll'd  their  dire  chariot  wheels  though  ftreams  of 
Now  throbs  of  other  glow  my  foul  employ; 
I  hear  the  triumph  of  a  nation's  joy  f , 
From  bondage  ref'cu'd  and  the  foreign  fword, 
And  independence  and  the  throne  reftor'd  ! 

Hark,  what  low  found  from  Cintra  rock  !  the 

air 

Trembles  with  horror  ;  fainting  lightnings  glare : 
Shrill  crows  the  cock,  the  dogs  give  dilmal  yell ; 
And  with  the  whirlwind's  roar  full  comes  the 

fvvell'; 

Convulfive  ftaggers  rock  th'  eternal  ground, 
And  heave  the  1'agus  from  his  bed  profound ; 
A  dark  red  cloud  the  towers  of  Lifboa  veils ; 
Ah  Heaven,  what  dreadful  groan  !  the  rifing  gales 
Bright  light ;  and  Lifboa  fmoaking  in  the  duft 
Lies  fall'n. — The  wide-fpread  ruins,  ftill  auguft, 
Still  fhow  the  footfteps  where  the  dreadful  God 
Of  earthquake,  cloth'd  in  howling  darknefs,  trod  ; 

*  Beftdes  the  total  Jlaughter  of  the  Moors  at  tbe 
tilting  of  L'Jlfon,  other  majjncres  have  bathed  tbcjlreets 
of  that  city  in  blood.  King  Fernando,  fur  named  the 
Carelefs,  ivas  driven  from  Lisbon  by  a  blooJy  iiffurrec- 
into,  headed  by  one  Velafquez  a  taylor.  Some  time 
after,  on  tbe  death  of  Fernanda,  Ad  tyre,  tbe  Quejn's 

favourite,  ivas  jlablcd  in  her  prefence,  the  Bijbop  of 
JLiJbon  iv  Js  throtvn  from  the  tinner  of  his  oivn  cathedral^ 
and  tbe  majjacre  of  all  ths  9ueen't  adherent t  becane 
general;  anJ  many  ivcre  murdered  under  that  pretence, 
by  thofe  ii-ho  had  an  enmity  againft  them.  In  I.VOJ,  be 
tween  t-wo  and  three  tbonfand  jfcius  "were  maffacred  in 
Li/Ion  in  the  ff>ace  of  three  d.jys,  and  many  Glrijlicins 
it'fre  alfo  murdered  by  their  private  enemies  under  a 

Jimilar  pretence  that  they  iv^re  of  the  Hibreiv  race, 
Tbfi/fands  jlocked  in  from  tbe  country  to  affijtin  their  <lr- 

Jlruciion,    and  tbe  creivs  of  fame  French   and   Dutch 

Jhips  then  in  the  river,  fay t  Oforius,  were  particularly 
a£iirve  in  murdering  and  plundering. 

•j-  When  the  Spanift  yoke  tons  throivn  off,  and  tie 
Duke  of  JBraganza  afanded  tie  tijrone  under  the  title  r.f 
John  IV.  This  is  one  of  ths  tnojl  remarkable  e^'ents  in 
biflory,  and  does  the  PortJiguefe  nation  infinite  honour. 


POEM     S. 


667 


Where  mid  foul  weeds  the  heaps  of  marble  tell 
From  what  proud  height  the  fpacious  temples  fell; 
And  penury  and  floth  of  1'qualid  mien 
Beneath. the  rooflefs  palace  -.vails  *  are  feen 
In  favage  hovels,  where  ihe  tap'ftried  floor          , 
Was  trod  by  nobles  and  by  kings  before  ; 
Ho-.v  like,  alas,  her  Indian  empire's  Hate! 
How  like  the  city's  and  the  nation's  fate  ! 
Yet  time  points  forward  to  a  brighter  day ; 
Points  to  the  domes  that  ftretch  their  fair  array 
Through  the  brown  ruins,  lifting  to  the  Iky 
A  loftier  brow  and  mien  of  promife  high  ; 
Points  to  the  river-fhore  where  wide  and  grand 
The  courts  of  commerce  and  her  walks  expand, 
As  an  imperial  palace  •)-  to  retain 
The  umvcrfal  queen,  and  fix  her  reign  ; 
Where  picas' d  file  hears  the  groaning  oar  refound; 
By  magazines  and  arfenals  mounded  round. 
Whofe  yet  unfiuifh'd  grandeur  proudly  boafts 
The  faireft  hope  of  either  India's  coafts, 
And  bids  the  mufe's  eye  in  vifion  roam 
Through  mighty  fcenes  in  ages  long  to  come. 
Forgive,  fair  Thames,  the  fong  of  truth  that 
pays 

To  Tago's  emprefs-flream  fuperior  praife  ; 

O'er  every  vauntful  river  be  it  thine 

To  boaft  the  guardian  fhield  of  laws  divine ; 

But  yield  to  Tagusall  thefovereign  ftate 

By  nature's  gift  beftow'd  and  partial  fate, 

The  fea-like  port  and  central  fway  to  pour 

Her  fleets,  by  happieft  courfc,  on  every  fhorc.    , 

When  from  the  fleep  of  ages  dark  and  dead, 
Thy  genius,  commerce,  rear'd  her  infant  head, 
Her  cradle  bland  on  Tago's  lap  fhe  chofe, 
And  foon  to  wandering  childhood  fprightly  rofc  ; 
And  when  to  green  and  youthful  vigour  grown 
On  Tago's  breaft  fhe  fix'd  her  central  throne ; 
Far  from  the  hurricane's  refiftlefs  fweep 
That  tears  with  thundering  rage  the  Carib  deep ; 
Far  from  the  foul-wing'd  winter  that  deforms 
And  rolls  the  northern  main  with  florms  onflorms; 
Beneath  falubf  ious  Ikies,  to  fummer  gales 
She  gives  the  ventrous  and  returning  fails: 
The  fmiling  ifles,  nam'3  Fortunate  of  old, 
Firft  on  her  ocean's  bofom  fair  unfold; 
Thy  world,  Columbus,  fpreads  its  various  breaft, 
Proud  to  be  firftby  Lifboa's  waves  careft; 
And  Afric  wooes  and  leads  her  eafy  way 
To  the  fair  regions  of  the  rifing  day. 
If  Turkey's  drugs  invite  or  filken  pride, 
Thy  ftraits,  Alcides,  give  the  ready  tide  ; 
And  turn  the  prow,  and  foon  each  fhore  expands 
From  Gallia's  coaft  to  Europe's  northern  lands. 

*  This  dcftription  is  literally  juJFT  Whole  families, 
cf all  ages,  are  every  -where  fien  among  tlif  ruins,  the 
o/ily  covering  of  their  habitations  'being  ragged  fragments 
of  fail  cloth  ;  anJ  their  common  bed  dirty  Jlraiv.  The 
magnificent  and  extenjtve  ruins  of  the  palace  of  Bragan- 
xa  contain  fevsral  hundreds  cf  theft  idle  people,  much 
more  wretched  in  their  appearance  than  the  gypjiei  of 
England. 

f  Toe  Prac.a  de  commercio,  or  forum  of  Commerce, 
'is  one  of  the  largejt  and  mojl  magnificent  f quarts  in 
Europe.  Three  fides  (on/iji  of  the  Exchange  and  tie 
fullic  effect ;  the  fourth  is  formed  by  the  Tagus,  which 
is  here  edged  by  an  cxtenftve  and  noble  is;L/jrft  built  of 
toarfe  marble. 


When  Heaven  decreed  low  to  dufl  to  bring 
That  lofty  oak  *,  Affyria's  boaftful  king. 
Deep,  faid  the  angel  voice,  the  roots  fecurc 
With  bands  of  brafs,  and  let  the  life  endure, 
For  yet  his  head  fhall  rife. — And  deep  remain 
The  living  roots  of  Lifboa's  ancient  reign ; 
Deep  in  the  caftel'd  iiles  on  AfiYs  flrand, 
And  firm  in  fair  Brazilia's  wealthy  land. 
And  lay,  while  ages  roll  fheir  lengthening  train, 
Shall  nature's  gilts  to  Tagus  flill  prove  vain, 
An  idle  walle  ! — A  dawn  of  brightcft  ray- 
Has  boldly  piomis'd  the  returning  day 
Of  Lifboa's  honours,  fairer  than  her  prime 
Loft  by  a  rude  uuletter'd  age's  crime — 
Now  heaven-taught  fcience  and  her  liberal  band 
Of  arts,  and  dictates  by  experience  plaun'd, 
Beneath  the  imilcs  ot  a  benignant  queen 
Boait  the  fair  opening  of  a  n-ign  f  icrene, 
Of  omen  high. — And  Camoen's  gholl  no  more 
Wails  the  neglected  mufe  on  Tago's  fhore ; 
iN'o  more  his  tears  the  barbarous  age  }  upbraid 
His  griefs  and  wrongs-  all  footh'd,  his  happy  ihadc 
Beheld  th'  Ulyffes  §  of  his  age  return 
To  Tago's  banks ;  and  earneil  to  adorn 
The  hero's  brows,  he  waves  the  Klyiian  crown, 
What  time  the  letter'd  chiefs  of  old  renown, 
And  patriot  heroes,  in  die  Elyfian  bower* 
Shall  hail  Braganza  .  of  the  faireft  flowers 
Of  Helicon,  cntwin'd  with  laurel  leaves 
From  Maxeii  field,  the  deathle is  wreath  he  waves ; 


*  Sff  Daniel,  C    iv. 

f-  Alludes  to  the  eJlaUi/bment  of  the  Royal  Academy 
of  Lijbon  in  July  1780,  under  the  prefidency  of  the 
inojl  illujlrious  Prince  Don  John  of  Braganza,  Date  of 
Lafoens,  &c.  &c.  &c.  'fhe  author  -was  prefent  at 
the  ceremony  of  its  comm:nc?ment,  and  bad  the  honour  t» 
be  admitted  a  mtmber. 

\  Camoens  the  Jirjl  poet  of  Portugal,  publijbed  tie 
Lufiad  at  a  time  of  the  deepcjl  declcnfton  of  public  virtue^ 
tvben  the  Portugitzfe  empire  in  India  -was  falling  intf 
rapid  decay,  ivhen  literature  was  totally  neglefted,  and 
all  ivas  l»xury  and  imbecility  at  borne.  At  the  end  of 
Books  V.  and  VII.  of  bis  Luftad,  be  feverely  upbraids 
the  nobility  for  fbcir  barbarous  ignorance.  He  died  ne- 
glefted  in  a  ivorkhot/fe,  afeiu  months  before  bis  country 
fell  under  the  yoke  tf  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  ivbofe policy 
in  Portugal  "was  of  the  fame  kind  -with  that  ivbicb  be 
cxercifed  intbe  Netherlands,  endeavouring  to  fecurefub- 
tnijjion  byfeverity,  ivitbths  -vie-w  of  reducing  tbe  m  bcneatk 
the  pcjfibility  of  a  fuccefsful  re-volt. 

§  This  title  is  given  by  the  Portugufe  biflorians  it 
Don  John,  one  of  the  younger  font  of  John  I.  of  Portu 
gal,  tuho  bad  vijited  every  cmirt  of  Europe.  Tbe  fame 
title  is  no  lefs  due  to  tbe  prefent  illuftrious  defc cndant  of  bit 
family,  tbe  Duke  of  Lafoens.  His  Grace,  ivbo  bat 
ivitbin  tbefefetv  \ean  returned  to  bis  native  country,  "Wat 
a/tout  tiventy-t-wo  years  abfent  from  it.  During  tbe  latt 
tuar,  be  -was  a  volunteer  in  tbe  army  of  tbe  Emprcft 
^>neen,  in  -which  \be  fir<vcd  as  lieutenant-general,  ant 
particularly  diflinguijbed  bimfelf  at  the  battle  of  Maxell t 
•where  the  PruJJians  -were  defeated.  After  tbe  peace, 
be  not  only  vijited  every  court  of  Europe,  mojl  of  ivbofe 
languages  be  fpeats  Jlucntly,  but  alfo  travelled  to  Turkey 
and  Egypt,  and  even  to  Lapland.  His  Grace  is  no  left 
dijlinguijbtd  by  bis  tajlefer  the  Belles  Lettres,  than  for 
ewledge  of  biliary  and  fcience. 


668 


THE   WORKS   OF    MICKLE. 


Anxious  alone,  nor  be  his  vows  in  vain ! 
That  long  his  toil  unfinifh'd  may  remain  ! 

The  view  how  grateful  to  the  liberal  mind, 
Whofe  glow  of  heart  embraces  human  kind, 
To  fee  a  nation  rile  !   But  ah    my  friend, 
How  dire  the  pangs  to  mark  our  own  d.fcend! 
With  ample  powers  from  ruin  ftill  to  fave, 
Yet  as  a  veffel  on  the  furious  wave,  [toft, 

Through  funken  rocks  and  rav'nous  whirlpools 
Each  power  to  fave  in  countsr-a&ion  loft, 
"Where,  while  combining  ftorms  the  decks  o'er- 

whelm, 

Timidity  flow  faulters  at  the  helm, 
The  crew,  in  mutiny,  from  every  maft 
Tearing  its  ftrength,  and  yielding  to  the  blaft; 
By  factions  ftern  and  gloomy  luft  of  change, 
And  felfifh  rage  infpir'd  and  dark  revenge — 
Nor  ween,  my  friend,  that  favouring  fate  fore- 

borte« 

That  Albion's  ftate,  the  toil  of  demigods, 
From  ancient  manners  pure,  through  ages  long, 
And  from  unrnmber'd  friendly  afpecls  (prung; 
When  poifon'd  at  the  heart  its  foul  expires, 
Shall  e'er  again  refume  its  generous  tires: 
No  future  day  may  fuch  fair  frame  rtflore; 
When  Albion  falls,  fhe  falls  to  rife  no  more. 


STANZAS. 


ADDRESSED    TO    A 


YOUNG    LADY    STUDIOUS 
BOTANY. 


SAT,  gentle  lady  of  the  bower, 

For  thou,  though  young,  art  wife, 

And  knovvn  to  thee  is  every  flower 
Beneath  our  milder  fkies . 

Say,  which  the  plant  of  modeft  dye, 

And  lovely  mien  combia'd, 
That  fiueft  to  the  penfive  eye 

Difplaysthe  virtuous  mind. 

f  fought  the  groves  where  innocence 
Methought  might  long  refide  ; 

But  April's  bloffom's  banifh'd  thence, 
Gave  fummer,  Flora's  pride. 

1  fought  the  garden's  boafted  haunt, 

But  on  the  gay  partere 
Carnations  glow,  and  tulips  flaunt, 

No  humble  flow'ret  there. 

The  flower  you  feek,  the  nymph  replies, 
Has  bow'd  the  languid  head; 

Jor  on  its  bloom  the  blazing  ikies 
Their  fultry  rage  have  ftied. 

TIs  now  the  downward  withering  day, 

Of  winter's  dull  prefage, 
That  feeks  not  where  the  dog-ftars  ray, 

Has  Ihed  his  fierceft  rage. 

Yet  fearch  yon  {hade   obfcure  forlorn 
Where  rude  the  bramble  grows; 

There,  {haded  by  the  humble  thorn, 
The  lingering  primrofe  blows. 


SACRED  TO  THE  HEIRS  OF 


CASTLE. 


•H  thou  vvhofe  hopes  thefe  fair  domains  inlpire, 
The  awful  kflbn  here  befkow'd  attend, 


With  penfive  eve  here  let  thy  fteps  retire, 

What  time  rapt  fancy's  fhadowy  forms  defcend. 

Hark  !  from  yon  hall  as  headlong  wafte  purveys, 
What  Bacchanalian  revels  loud  refound, 

With  feftive  fires  the  midnight  windows  blaze, 
And  fever'd  tumult  reels  his  giddy  round. 

'Tis  paft — the  manfion  owns  another  lord, 

The  oufted  heir  ib  riotous  ere  while, 
Now  fits  a  fuppliant  at  his  wonted  board, 

Infulted  by  the  bafe-born  menial's  fmile. 

By  the  bafe  menials  taunted  from  the  door, 
With  anguifh'd  heart  refiftleis  of  his  woe, 

Forlorn  he  ftrays  thofe  lawns,  his  own  no  more, 
Unknowing  where,  on  trembling  knees  andflovf. 

Till  here  beneath  an  aged  elm's  bleak  fhade, 
Fainting  he  finks — Ah  !  let  thy  mind  defcry, 

On  the  cold  turf  how  low  his  humbled  head, 
On  yon  fair  dome  how  fix'd  his  ghaflly  eye. 

By  his  mad  revels,  by  his  laft  heart-figh, 

Oh  thou  of  thefe  proud  towers  the  promis'd  heir, 

By  every  manly  virtue's  holy  tie, 

By  honour's  faired  bloom,  Oh  fortune's  child* 
beware  ! 

FRAGMENT. 

TELL  me  gentle  echo,  tell, 

Where  and  how  my  lover  fell  ? 

On  the  cold  grafs  did  he  lie, 

Crown'd  with  laureh  dia  he  die  ? 

Echo  twice  gave  fwift  reply,  [die. 

Crown'd  with  laurels,  crown'd  with  laurel*,  he  did 

His  fnow-white  brealt  was  ftain'd  with  gore, 
A  cruel  fword  his  boibm  tore. 
Say  with  his  parting  vital  flame, 
Did  he  figh  Ophelia's  name, 
Was  he  conilant  ftill  the  fame  ? 
Echo  figh'd  Ophelia's  name. 

When  in  honour's  bed  he  lay, 
And  breath'd  his  gallant  foul  away, 

Ye  gentler  fpirits  of  the  air, 

Why  was  not  Ophelia  thejre  ? 

Echo  anfwer'd  her  defpair, 

Why  was  not  Ophelia  there  ? 
While  the  full  moon's  paly  ray 

Sleeping  on  the  hill  fide  lay, 

Thus  to  echo,  through  the  glade, 

The  lovely  maniac  talk'd  and  ftray'd ; 

Straight  on  fancy's  wild  wings  borne, 

By  the  glimpfc  of  opening  morn, 

She  faw— or  thought  fhe  faw,  her.  lovt 

Lie  bleeding  *  *  '  *  * 

FRAGMENT. 

COME  gentle  peace  on  every  breathing  gale, 
O  come  and  guard  the  {lumbers  of  the  vale, 
Awake  gay  mirth  and  glee,  with  playful  wile, 
Wake  with   the  morn,  and  o'er  the  laodfcape 
fmile. 

STANZAS 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF    THE  PRINCESS  DOWAGER  OF 
WALES. 

ASPERS'D  by  malice  and  unmanly  rage, 
Difgraceful  i'tamp  to  this  flagitious  age, 
$ 


POEMS. 


669 


In  confcious  innocence  fecur'd  from  blame, 
She  figh'd— but  only  figh'd  o'er  Britain's  flume  ; 
She  faw  her  children  throng  their  early  tomb, 
Difeafe,  flow-wafting,  fade  her  Glofters'  bloom; 
She  faw — but  death  appear'd  a  friendly  gueft, 
His  arrow  pointing  to  the  realms  of  reft  ! 
Calmly  Ihe  views  him,  dauntlefs  and  refign'd, 
Yet  drops  one  tear  forthofe  (he  leaves  behind. 

Warm  from  the  heart  thefe  honeft  numbers  flow, 
Which  honour,  truth,  and  gratitude,  beftow. 

EPITAPH  ON  MR.  MORTIMER. 

O'ER  Angelo's  proud  tomb  no  tear  was  fhed  ; 

Pleas'd  was  each  mufe,  for  full  his  honours  fpread ; 

To  bear  his  genius  to  its  utmoft  (bore, 

The  length  of  human  days  could  give  no  more. 
Oh  Mortimer,  o'er  thy  untimely  urn 

The  arts  and  all  the  gentle  mufes  mourn ; 

And  fhades  of  Englifh  heroes  gliding  by, 

Heave  o'er  thy  fhrinc  the  languid  hopelefs  ugh! 

Thine  all  the  breathing  rage  of  bold  defign, 

And  all  the  poetry  of  painting  thine  ; 
Oh,  long  had  thy  meridian  fun  to  blaze  ! 
And  onward  hov'ring  in  its  magic  rays, 
What  vifions  rofe ! — Fair  England's  patriots  old, 
Monarchs  of  proudeft  fame,  and  barons  bold, 
In  the  fir'd  moments  of  their  bravell  ftrife, 
Burfting  beneath  thy  hand  again  to  life ! 
So  fhone  thy  noon — when  one  dim.void  profound, 
Rufh'd  on,  and  fliapelefs  darknefs  clos'd  around. 
Alas!  while  ghofts  of  heroes  round  thy  tomb, 
Robb'd  of  their  hope,  bewail  the  artift's  doom ; 
Thy  friend,  Oh  Mortimer,  in  grief  fincere, 
Pours  o'er  the  man  fad  memory's  filent  tear; 
And  in  the  fond  remembrance  of  thy  heart, 
Forgets  the  honours  of  thy  wond'rous  art. 

TO  THE 

MEMORY  OF  COM.  GEO.  JOHNSTONE 
THROUGH  life's  tempeftuous  fea  to  thee  'twas  given 
Thy  courfe  to  fteer,  yet  ftill  preferv'd  by  Heaven; 
As  childhood  clos'd,  thy  ceafelefs  toils  began, 
And  toils  and  dangers  ripen'd  thee  to  man : 
Thy  country's  caufe  thy  ardent  youth  infpir'd,    , 
Thy  ripen'd  years  thy  country's  dangers  fir'd  ; 
All  life  to  trace  the  councils  of  the  foe, 
All  zealous  life  to  ward  the  lifted  blow  *. 

When  dubious  peace,  in  gilded  clouds  array'd, 
Fair  o'er  Britannia  threw  her  painted  (hade, 
Thy  active  mind  illiberal  eafe  difciain'tl ; 
Forth  burft  the  fenator  unaw'd,  unftain'd! 
By  private  aim  unwrapt  as  generous  youth, 
Thy  ear  ftill  liftening  to  the  voice  of  truth, 

*  The  Commodore  -was  remarkably  taffy  in  procur 
ing  intelligrHie.  Hefint  thefrfl  notice  of  the  Span,Jh  de 
claration  of -war  in  I  6l  to  Admiral  Rodney,  then  com 
manding  in  the  Weft  Indies;  in  conftquenct  cf -which  tie 
Jfavannah  <was  taken.  He  fent  alfo  tie  frjl  account  of 
the  failing  anddejlinationfor  the  Wejl  Indies  of  tie  Grand 
Spanijh  Fleet  in  fj6o  to  Admiral  Rodney,  then  alfo  com 
mander  on  thatfation.  Both  me/uges  "were  carried  from 
JJjbon  by  the  fame  ferfon,  Caft.  M'Laurin.  In  con- 
fequcncc  of  this  intelligence,  many  of  the  Spanifb  tranf- 
fortr  -were  taken,  and  the  operations  of  the  combined  force 
•f  France  and  S fain  in  tit  IV tf  Indies  retarded  fer  that 
ftafen. 


'hat  facred  power  thy  burfting  warmth  controul'd, 
And  bade  thee  at  her  fide  be  only  bold. 
>Jor  toils  of  ftate  alone  thy  cares  emph.y'd ; 
The  mufes  in  thy  funfhine  glow'd  an'.;  joy'd. 

When  filial  ftrife  unfheath'd  the  ruthlefs  brand, 
And  difcord  rioted  on  Salem's  ftrand, 
Thy  hands  to  Salem's  ftrand  the  olive  bore  % 

Alas,  denied  ! and  liberal  peace  no  more 

SmiPd  on  the  creft  of  hope  ;  thy  country's  weal 
Again  to  action  wak'd  thy  patriot  zeal ; 
Old  Tagus  faw  the  Britifh  red  crofs  ftream 
O'er  Gallia's  lilies  and  the  tawny  gleam 
Of  proud  Iberia's  caflles:    Btlgia  mourn'd 
Her  broken  faith,  and  Afric's  (bores  return'd 
Her  Lifboan  groans  for  Britifh  friendfhipfpurn'd. 

Again  life's  tempeft  beaten  ocean  roar'd, 
And  round  thy  head  the  mifb  of  laiftion  pour'd ; 
Dark  lowr'd  the  florin ;  but  heaven'*  own  light 

rofe  mild, 

And  refcued  honour  on  thy  death-bed  fmil'd  f, 
Soft  (bedding  peaceful  joy ;  the  biifsful  fign, 
That  Heaven's  forgivenefs  and  its  balm  were  thine. 
All  hail,  footh'd  (hade  !  The  mufe  that  own'd 
thy  care  fer. 

Hails  thee,  and  bleffes  Heaven  that  heard  her  pray- 
For  ever  green  the  laurel  o'er  thy  tomb 
Shall  flourifh,  ever  white  its  flowery  bloom  ; 
And  gratitude,  Oh  Johnftone,  round  thy  (brine, 
And  triendfhip,  heave  the  figh,  and  thy  fair  wreatk 
entwine. 


STANZAS  ON  MR.  GARRICK. 
FAIR  was  the  graceful  form  Prometheus  made, 
Its  front  the  image  of  the  god  difplay'd- 
All  heaven  approv'd  it  e'er  Minerva  dole 
The  fire  of  Jove,  and  kindled  up  the  foul. 

So  Shakfpeare's  page,  the  flower  of  poefy, 
Ere  Garrick  rofe  had  charms  for  every  eye ; 
'Twas  nature's  genuine  image  wild  and  grand, 
The  ftrong-mark'd  picture  of  a  mafler's  hand. 

But  when  his  Garrick,  nature's  Pallas,  came, 
The  bard's  bold  painting  burft  into  a  flame : 
Each  part  new  force  and  vital  warmth  receiv'd, 
As  touch'd  by  heaven— and  all  the  picture  liv'd. 

Onpa/ing  through  the  Parlament-Clofc  of  Edinburgh 

at  Midnight. 

So  now  the  doors  are  (hut,  the  bufy  hand 
Of  induftry  fufpendsher  toil  awhile, 
And  foleinn  Clence  reigns  :  the  men  of  law- 
Throng  not  the  paffage  to  the  auguft  court; 
Nor  clients,  walking  o'er  the  pavement,  curfc 
Their  caufe'slong  delay;  the  labourer 
Lies  wrapt  in  flcep,  his  brawny  nerves  unbrcc'd, 
Gath' ring  new  vigour  ibr  to-morrow's  toil. 
Now  o'er  their  cups  immoderate,  the  rout 

*  He  "was  one  of  the  co&miffioners  fent  to  America  in. 
1778. 

•{•  Alluding  to  the  French  and  Dutch  prizes  he  fent  ix~ 
to  the  Tagus  in  1779  an^  I7^°>  a"d  ta  tit  capture  «f 
four  Dutch  Indiamen  in  Saldanba  Bay  in  1781. 

|  Alluding  to  the  fentcnce  againj}  him  in  the  caufe  of 
Captain  Button,  being  reverfed  by  the  Houfs  of  Ltrdt ; 
the  account  of  which  be  received  ebwt  ticent^i-four  hours 
before  bis  death. 


THE   WORKS   OF   IVflCKLE. 


Of  Bacchanalians,  with  impetuous  laugh, 
Applaud  the  witlefs,  but  irivenom'd  jed. 
At  yon  dim  taper,  poring  on  his  bonds, 
Or  ledger,  crooked  av'rice  keenly  fits; 
Or  fleeplefs  on  his  tawdry  bed,  fums  up 
His  rents  and  int'reds.  O  thrice  dire  difeafe! 
Oh  doleful  madnefs !  Wherefore  all  this  care, 
This  finful  care,  that,  from  the  mind  excludes 
All  thought  of  duty  toward  God  or  man  ! 
An  heir  debauch'd,  who  wifhes  nothing  more 
Than  the  old  dotard  dead-,  will  throw  it  all 
On  whores  and  dogs  away  ;  then,  curfing  life, 
That  nothing  gives  but  fcoundrcl  poverty, 
By  his  own  hand  a  mangled  carcafe  falls. 
Now  fmoking  with  unhallow'd  fires,  the  fons 
Of  curs'd  Gomorrha  fl-roll  along  the  dreets, 
Scenting  the  proftitutes :  perhaps  the  fon 
Of  fome  well-meaning  countryman,  cntic'd 
By  lewd  companions,  midnight  orgies  holds, 
Kennels  with  tome,  abominable  wretch, 
Contracting  foul  difeafe,  one  day  to  fmart 
His  pious  parents  fouls  with  bitter  grief, 
And  o'er  their  rev'rend  hoary  cheeks  to  pour 

The  fad  parental  tear. • 

Behold  how  grand  the  lady  of  the  night, 
The  filver  moon,  with  majedy  divine, 
Emerges  from  behind  yon  fable  cloud  ; 
Around  her  all  the  fpacious  heavens  glow 
With  living  fires.     In  the  pale  air  fublime, 
St.  Giles's  column  rears  its  ancient  head; 
Whofe  builders  many  a  century  ago 
Were  moulder'd  into  dufl.    Now,  O  my  foul, 

Be  fill'd  with  facred  awe 1  tread  above 

Our  brave  forgotten  ancedors.    Here  *  lie 
Thofe  who  in  ancient  days  the  kingdom  rul'd, 
The  counfellors  and  favourites  of  kings, 
High  lords  and  courtly  dames,  the  valiant  chiefs, 
Whofe  manly  harnefs'd  breads,  and  mighty  arms, 
Stood  as  the  brazen  bulwarks  of  the  land, 
Mingling  their  duft  with  thofe  of  lowed  rank, 

And  bafed  deeds,  and  now  unknown  as  they. 

Hark !  'twas  the   clock   ftruck  One — the  folemn 

found 

Yet  vibrates  in  my  ear :  Such  is  the  life, 
The  tranfient  life  of  man  :   a  while  he  breathes, 
Then  in  a  little  with  his  mother  earth  [race 

Lies  mix'd,  and  known  no  more ;  even  his  own 
Forget  his  name.  And  if  his  name  remains, 
What  is  it  but  an  empty,  airy  found  ? 
Caefar,  and  Ammon's  fon,  high-founding  air, 
Founders  of  dates,  their  country's  faviours,  lie 
In  dark  oblivion ;  others  only  live 
In  fables  wild  and  vague  :  yea,  this  fame  age, 
That  faw  the  wave  of  Marlb'ro's  fvvord  decide 
The  fate  of  Europe,  and  her  trembling  kings, 
Relate  his  actions  pad  as  an  old  tale, 
Without  concern  :  and  loon  the  days  mall  come, 
When  Pruffian  peafants  fliall  ftrange  dories  tell 
Of  Fred'ric  and  his  brothers;  fuch  as  oft 
The  Britifii  labourer,  by  winter's  fire, 
Tells  to  his  wond'ring  children,  of  the  feats 
Or   -i.rrh.ur  and  his  knights  :  a  few  years  more 
Shall  fee  great  s<red'ric  and  his  glorious  bands, 
And  all  the  millions  of  his  raging  foes, 
All  fiiect  duft,  ana  lodging  with  the  hods 

*  Tills -ivas  once  a  burial-place. 


(Down  in  the  dreary  manfions  of  the  dead), 
That  fought  at  Cannae  or  Thermopylae, 
And  thofe  of  later  name,  that  dood  beneath 
The  banners  of  Godfrcdo  or  Guftave. 

Say,  ye  immortal  fons  of  heav*ii,  who  rule 
This  netherworld,  who,  from  old  Nimred'sdays 
Down  to  the  preient,  have  beheld  the  fate 
Of  emperors  anJ  kings;  fay,  which  the  life 
That  the  immortal  (hade  will  like  to  own  ? 
Docs  Cxfarbond  of  his  eternal  name, 
How,  wading-  through  the  blood  of  millions,  he 
Enflav'd  his  country  ?  No,  he  droops  his  head, 
And  imprecates  oblivion  to  o'erfhade 
1'he  horrid  tale.    Not  fo  poor  Socrates: 
With  everladingfmiles  he  humbly  owns 
The  life  that  was  a  bleffing  to  mankind. 
The  heroes,  whofe  unconqu  Table  fouls 
Would  from  their  country's  int'red  never  flinch, 
Look  down  with  fweet  complacence  on  th'  realms 
Their  valour  fav'd.    O  Wallace,  wond'rous  chief ! 
Who  durft  alone  thy  country's  rights  afiert, 
Betray'd  and  fworn  away  by  all  but  thee  ; 
And  thou,  great  Bruce,  who  many  a  doleful  day, 
For  thy  enflav'd  and  groaning  country's  fake, 
Stray'd  o'er  the  folitary  hills  of  Lorn  ; 
With  what  ecdatic  raptures  do  you  fee 
A  nation  to  this  day  blefs'd  by  your  arms ! 
Such  fhall  thy  happinefs,  O  Fred'ric !  be, 
Thou  glorious  pattern  of  a  perfect  king; 
And  fuch  the  recompenfing  heaven  of  thofe, 
The  happy  few,  in  blefs'd  obfcurity 
Who  pafs  their  days;  whom  Gabriel  pointing  out, 
When  in  his  filent  rounds,  unto  his  mates 
Will  fay,  "  There  is  the  man,  who  at  all  times 
"  Acts  as  becomech  an  immortal  fpirit." 
Such  is  the  life  that's  worthy  of  a  man, 
And  fuch  the  life  that  God  himfelf  applauds. 

ON  THE  NEGLECT  OF  POETRY. 

A  FRAGMENT.       IN    THE  MANNER  OF  SPENSER. 
(From  tie  Introdu&ion  to  the  Englijh  Lvftad*.) 

HENCE,  vagrant  minflrel,  from  my  thriving  farm, 
Far  hence,  nor  ween  to  med  thy  poifon  here  : 
My  hinds  defpife  thy  lyre's  ignoble  charm; 
*eek  in  the  floggard 'showers  thy  ill-earn'd  cheer: 
There,  while  thy  idle  chaunting  foothes  thine  ear, 
The  noxious  thiftle  choaks  their  fickly  corn ; 
Their  apple  boughs,  ungraff'd,four  wildings  bear, 
And  o'er  the  ill-fenced  dales  with  fleeces  torn,J 
Unguarded  from  the  fox,  their  lambkins  dray  for 
lorn. 

Such  ruin  wthiers  the  neglected  foil, 
When  to  the  fong  the  ill-darr'd  fwain  attends. 
And  well  thy  meed  repays  thy  worrhlefs  toil ; 
Upon  thy  houfelefs  head  pale  want  defcends 

*  A  ivor I  ivhicb  claims  poetical  merit,  while  its  repu 
tation  is  uneftaltlijhed,  is  beheld,  by  the  great  majority, 
ivith  a  cold  and  a  jealous  eye.  The  prefent  age,  indeed^ ts 
happily  aufpicious  to  fclcnce  and  the  arts  ;  but  poetry  is 
neither  the  geneial  tajle,  nor  the  fajbionable  favourite  of 
t'aefe  times.  Oftrn,  in  the  difpiriied  l/'our,  have  theft 
•views  obtruded  upon  the  tranjlutor.  While  he  has  left 
/.is  author  upon  the  table,  and  ivandcred  in  the  fields^ 
theft  iiinvs  have  clotbfd  tbemfj'ves  almojl  imperceptibly 
in  the Jtanza  and  allegory  of  Speafer. 


!»    O    E    M    S. 


In  bitter  fhower :  and  taunting  fcorn  flill  rends, 
And  wakes  thee  trembling  from  thy  golden  dream: 
In  vetchy  bed,  or  loathly  dungeon  ends 

Thy  idled  life What  fitter  may  beieem, 

Who  poiibns  thus  the  fount,  fliould  drink  the  poi- 
fon'd  ftream. 

And  is  it  thus,  the  heart-flung  minftrel  cry'd, 
While  indignation  fliook  his  filverM  head  ; 
And  is  it  thus,  the  grofs-fed  lordling's  pride, 
And  hind'sbafc  tongue  the  gentle  bard  upbraid! 
And  muft  the  holy  fong  be  thus  repaid 
By  fun-bafk'd  ignorance,  and  chorlifh  fcorn! 
While  liftlefs  drooping  in  the  languid  (hade 
Of  cold  neglect,  the  facred  bard  muft  mourn, 
Though  in  his  hallowed  bread  heaven's  pureft  ar 
dours  burn  ! 

Yet  how  fublime,  O  bard,  the  dread  beheft, 
The  awful  truft  to  thee  by  Heaven  afhgn'd ! 
"fis  thine  to  humanife  the  favage  breaft, 
And  form  in  virtue's  mould  the  youthful  mind  ; 
Where  lurks  the  latent  fpark  of  generous  kind, 
'  Pis  thine  to  bid  the  dormant  ember  blaze : 
Heroic  rage  with  gentleft  worth  combin'd, 
Wide  through  the  land  thy  forming  power  dif- 
plays.  [rays. 

So  fpread  the  olive  boughs  beneath  Dan  Phoebus 

When  Heaven  decreed  to  foothe  the  feuds  that 

tore 

The  wolf-eyed  barons,  whofe  unletter'd  rage 
Spurn'd  the  fair  mufe ;  Heaven  bade  on  Avon's  more 
A  Shakfpeare  rife,  and  footh  the  barbarous  age  : 
A  Shakfpeare  rofe ;  the  barbarous  heats  afvvage 
At  diftance  due  how  many  bards  attend  ! 
Enlarged  and  liberal  from  the  narrow  cage 
Of  blinded  zeal,  new  manners  wide  extend, 
And  o'er  the  generous  breait  the  dews  of  heaven 

defcend. 

And  fits  it  you,  ye  fons  of  hallowed  power, 
To  hear,  unmov'd,  the  tongue  of  fcorn  upbraid 
The  mnfe,  neglecled  in  her  wintery  bower ; 
While  proudly  flourifhing  in  princely  (hade 

Her  younger  filters  lift  the  laurell'd  head. 

And  ihall  the  pencil's  boldeft  mimic  rage, 
Or  fofteft  charms,  foredoom'd  in  time  to  fade, 
Shall  thefe  be  vaunted  o'er  th'  immortal  page, 
Where  pafiion's  living  fires  burn  unimpair'd  by  age ! 

And  fhall  the  warbled  ftrain,  or  fweetefl  lyre, 
Thrilling  the  palace  roof  at  night's  deep  hour; 
And  ihall  the  nightingales  in  woodland  choir 
The  voice  of  heaven  in  fweeter  raptures  pour  ! 
Ah  no  !  their  fong  is  tranfient  as  the  flower 
Of  April  morn  :   In  vain  the  fhepherd  boy 
Sits  liftening  in  the  fiient  autumn  bower ; 
The  year  no  more  reftores  the  fhort  lived  joy  ; 
And  never  more  his  harp  fhall  Orpheus'  hands  em 
ploy. 

Eternal  filence  in  her  cold  deaf  ear 
Has  clofed  his  ftrain;  and  deep  eternal  night 
Has  o'er  Apelles'  tints,  fb  bright  while  ere, 
Drawn  her  blank  curtains — never  to  the  fight 
More  to  be  given—  But  cloath'd  in  heaven's  own 

light, 

Homer's  bold  painting  fhall  immortal  mine ; 
Wide  o'er  the  world  fhall  ever  found  the  might, 
The  raptured  mufis  of  each  deathlefs  line .  [divine 
For  death  nor  time  may  touch  their  living  ibu 


And  what  the  ilrain,  though  Perez  fwsll  the 

note, 

iigh  though  its  rapture,  to  the  mufe  of  fire ! 
Ah  !  what  the  tranfient  founds,  devoid  of  thought, 
To  Shakfpeare's  flame  of  ever-burning  ire, 
Or  Milton's  flood  of  mind,  till  time  expire 
"oredoom'd  to  flow ;  as  heaven's  dread  energy 
Unconfcious  of  the  bounds  of  place 

TRANSLATION  OF  TASSO'S  SONNET. 
"  Vafco,  le  cui  felici,  &c." 

VASCO,  whofe  bold  and  happy  bowfprit  bore 
Againft  the  rifing  morn  ;  and,  homeward  fraught, 
Whofe  fails  came  weftward  with  the  day,  and 

brought 
The  wealth  of  India  to  thy  native  fhore ; 

Ne'er  did  the  Greek  fuch  length  of  feas  explore, 
The  Greek,  who  ibrrow  to  the  Cyclop  wrought ; 
And  he  who,  vidtor,  with  the  harpies  fought, 
Never  fuch  pomp  of  naval  honours  wore. 

Great  as  thou  art,  and  peeilefs  in  renown, 
Yet  thou  to  Camoensow'ft  thy  nobleft  fame; 
Farther  than  thou  didftfail,  his  deathlefs  fong 
Shall  bear  the  dazzling  fplendour  of  thy  name  ; 
And  under  many  a  fky  thy  actions  crown, 
While  time  and  fame  together  glide  along. 

AN  INSCRIPTION 

On  an  Obtlijk  at  Lanaford,  in  Wiltjbire,  tie  feat  of  tie 
Earl  of  Radnor,  commemorating  the  unfortunate  fatt 
of  Mr.  StraintoH,  tvbo  -was  formerly  In  poJJ'jffion  of 
that  ejfate. 

WHILE  o'er  thefe  lawns  thine  eye  delighted  ftrays, 

Allow  a  paufe  to  hear  the  tale  of  woe ; 
Here  ftood  the  parent  elm  in  elder  days, 

Here  o'er  its  lord  flow  wav'd  the  wither'd  bough. 
While  pale  and  cold  his  famifh'd  cheek  full 

low, 
On  the  rude  turf  in  death's  laft  fwooning  lay. 

Even  now,  methinks,  his  anguifh'd  look  I  fee, 

As  by  the  menials  taunted  from  the  door ; 
Fainting,  he  wander' d — then  beneath  the  tree 
Sunk  down — fweet  heaven,  what  pangs  his  bo- 

fom  tore. 

When  o'er  yon  lordly  dome,  his  own  no  more 
He  roll'd  his  dying  eyes — Ah !  what  compare 
To  this  the  leflbns  taught  of  fages  hoar  ? 


By  his  mad  revels,  by  the  gilded  fnare, 
By  all  the  hopes  of  joy,  Ob  .'fortune's  chit 


hild  beware. 


TRANSLATION  OF  AN  EPITHALAMIUM. 

Written  in  Hebrew,  by  Abraam  Depas,  on  tie  mar 
riage  of  Jacob  Franca,  Efq.  to  Mifs  Abigail  D'A- 
guilar,  daughter  of  tin  late  Baron  D' Aguilur. 

THE  voice  of  joy  this  happy  day  demands; 

Refound  the  fong,  and  in  our  God  confide: 
Beneath  his  canopy  the  bridegroom  llands, 

In  all  her  beauty  {nines  the  lovely  bride. 
O  may  their  joys  Hill  bloffom  ever  new, 
Fair  as  a  garden  to  the  ravifh'd  view ! 

Rejoice,  O  youth  !  and  if  thy  thoughts  afpire  ; 
To  Heaven's  pure  bleis,  the  iacrtu  law  le/cre ; 


THE   WORKS   OF   MJCKLE. 


The  Granger's  wants,  the  needy  foul's  defire 

Supply,  and  humbly  with  thy  neighbour  bear, 
So  (hull  thy  father's  grateful  heart  rejoice. 
And  thy  fair  deeds  infpire  thy  people's  voice. 

Sing  from  your  bowers  ye  daughters  of  the  fong, 
Behold  the  bride  with  ftar-light  glory  fkine  ! 

May  each  fucceeding  day  ftill  glide  along, 
Fair  as  the  firft,  begirt  with  grace  divine  : 

Far  from  her  tent  may  care  and  forrow  fly, 

While  fhe  o'erjoy'd  beholds  her  numerousprogeny. 

Ye  happy,  parents,  fhout  with  cheerful  voice, 
See  o'er  your  fon  the  canopy  unfolds, 

And  thou,  O  hoary  reverend  fire !  rejoice, 

May  thy  glad  eyes  thy  grandfon's  fon  behold : 

The  fong  of  joy,  ye  youthful  kindred  raife 

And  let  the  people  join  the  living  God  to  praife. 

ESKDALE  BRAES. 

By  the  banks  of  the  cryftal-ftream'd  Efk, 

Where  the  Wauchope  her  yellow  wave  joins*, 

Where  the  lambkins  on  funny  braes  bafk, 

And  wild  woodbine  the  fhepherd's  bower  twines. 

Maria,  difconfolate  maid, 

Oft  figh'd  the  ftill  noontide  away, 
Or,  by  moonlight  all  defolate  ftray'd, 

While  woeful  fhe  tun'd  her  love-lay. 

Ah !  no  more  from  the  banks  of  the  Ewes, 

My  fhepherd  comes  cheerly  along, 
Broomholm  f,  and  the  Deanfbanks  refufe 

To  echo  the  plaints  of  his  fong. 

No  more  from  the  echoes  of  Ewes, 
His  deg  fondly  barking  I  hear, 

*  The  fcene  is  laid  on  the  banks  ivbere  the  two  rivers 
tftLt  IVaucbope  and  Eives  join  the  EJk  :  On  the  banks  of 
the  former,  -was  anciently  a  cajlle  belonging  to  the  Knight 
Tetnplers,  on  the  ruins  of  which  ivas  Built  the  manfe  01 
farfonage  boufe,  called  the  Waas  (Walls Jt  at  "which 
JMLicJkle' s  father  re/ided,  and  ivbere  the  poet  -was  born. 
•J-  The  feat  of  John  Max-well,  Efq   author  of  the  c^ 
lebrattd  "  EJJay  on  Tune :"  Deanfbanks,  fo  called  from 
the  Dean  cft'oe  Knights  Templars* 


No  more  the  tir'd  lark  he  purfues, 
And  tells  me  his  mafter  draws  near. 

Ah !  woe  to  the  wars,  and  the  pride 

That  my  heroes,  Oh  Eflc  !  could  difplay, 

When  with  burels  they  planted  thy  fide, 
From  France  and  from  Spain  borne  away. 

Oh  !  why  did  their  honours  decoy 
My  poor  fliepherd  lad  from  the  more, 

Ambipion  bewitch'd  the  vain  boy, 
And  oceans  between  us  now  roar ! 

Ah!  methinks  his  pale  corfe  floating  by*, 

I  behold  on  the  rnde  billows  toft  ; 
Unburi.'d  his  fcatter'd  bones  lie, 

Lie  bleaching  on  fome  defert  coaft ! 

By  this  ftream,  and  the  May-bloffom'd  thorn, 
That  firft  heard  his  love-tale  and  his  vows, 

My  pale  ghoft  fhall  wander  forlorn, 
And  the  willow  fhall  weep  o'ex  my  brows. 

With  the  ghofts  of  the  Waas  will  I  wail, 
In  Waiblaw  *  woods  join  the  fad  throng, 

To  balloiv-ee'ns  blaft  tell  my  tale, 

As  the  fpedtres,  ungrav'd,  glide  along. 

Still  the  Ewes  rolls  her  paly  blue  ftream, 

Old  Eflc,  ftill  his  cryftal  tide  pours, 
otill  golden  the  Wauchope  waves  gleam, 

And,ftillgreen,Oh !  Broomholm.are  thy  bowers! 

No— blafted  they  feem  to  my  view, 

The  rivers  in  red  floods  combine ! 
The  turtles  their  widow'd  notes  coo, 

And  mix  their  fad  ditties  with  mine. 

Difcover'd  in  forrow's  dim  fhade, 

All  nature  feems  with  me  to  mourn— 

Strait  the  village  bells  merrily  play'd, 
And  announc'd  her  dear  Jamie's  return. 

The  woodlands  all  May-blown  appear, 
The  filver  ftreams  murmur  new  charms ; 

As  fmiling  her  Jamie  drew  near, 
And,  all  eager,  fprung  into  her  arms. 

*  The  forts  of  this  very  piUurefque  mountain  ferm 
a  taxi  for  the  EJk  and  the  JVaucbopt)  and  are  ctveret 
•with  a  beautiful  and  romantic  tvood. 


THE 


POETICAL  WORKS 


.      O  F 


Containing 


EDGE-HILL,  ECLOGUES, 

LABOUR  AND  GENIUS,  EPISTLES, 

8LEG1ES,  IMITATIONS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


a  theme 


Unknown  to  fame,  the  paflion  of  the  groves. 

THOMSON'S  SPRING. 


EDINBURGH: 

• 

PRINTED  BY  MVNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE. 

Arm*  1795. 


THE  LIFL  OF  JAGO. 


RICHARD  JAGO  was  born  October  I.  1715-  His  family  was  of  Cornifh  extraction  ;  but  his  father, 
the  Rev.  Richard  Jago,  was  Re<ftor  of  Beaudefert,  near  Henley  in  Arden,  in  Warwickfhire.  l.e 
married  Margaret,  the  daughter  of  William  Parker,  Gent,  of  Henley,  1711,  by  •whom  he  hud  feveral 
children.  The  poet  was  his  third  fon. 

He  received  a  good  claffical  education  under  the  Rev.  Mr.  Crumpton,  an  excellent  country  fchool- 
mafter  at  Solihull,  near  Birmingham  in  Warwickfhire  ;  where  he  formed  an  acquaintance  with.feveral 
gentlemen  who  were  his  fchool-fellows ;  among  others  with  Shenftone.     A  fimilarity  of  tafte  and  of 
purfuits  foon  brought  on  an  intimacy  between  thcfe  two  poets,  which  continued  without  abatement  t 
till  the  death  of  Shenftone. 

"  From  the  acquaintance,"  fays  Mr.  Graves,  in  his  *c  Recollection  of  fomc  particulars  ;n  the  Life 
of  Shenftone,"  "  which  I  had  with  Mr.  Jago,  and  fome  others  who  were  bred  under  Mr.  C  umpton, 
he  feems  to  have  given  his  pupils  a  more  early  tafte  for  the  Englifh  claffics,  than  was  commonly  done 
in  grammar  fchools  at  that  time." 

About  1732,  he  was  removed  from  the  fchool  of  Solihull,  and  entered  as  a  fervitor,  of  Univerfity 
College,  Oxford  ;  where  he  was  privately  vifited  by  his  fchool-fellow  Shenftone,  then  a  commoner 
of  Pembroke  College,  who  introduced  him  to  the  acquaintance  of  his  fellow  collegian?,  Anthony 
'Whiftler,  Efq.  of  Whitchurch,Oxfordfhire,  author  of  the"  Shuttle-cock,"  and  feveral  original  poems  in 
"  Dodfley's  Collection,"  Mr.  Robert  Binnel,  author  of  fome  learned  notes  in  Grainger's  "  Tibuilus,'* 
and  Mr.  Richard  Graves,  the  prefent  re&or  of  Claverton  in  Somerfetfhire,  author  of  "  The  Spi 
ritual  Quixote,"  "  Euphrofync,"  "  Columella,"  "  Peter  of  Pontefradt,"  and  other  ingenious  perfor 
mances. 

On  the  humiliating  fituation  in  which  he  was  placed  at  Univerfity  College,  his  friend  Mr.  Graves 
makes  the  following  liberal  and  indignant  reflections,  in  his  "  Recollection,  &c." 

"  Mr.  Shenftone  had  one  ingenious  and  much  valued  friend  in  Oxford,  Mr.  Jago, his  fchool-fellow, 
•whom  he  could  only  vifit  in  private,  as  he  wore  a  fervitor's  gown ;  it  being  then  deemed  a  great  dii- 
paragement  for  a  commoner  to  appear  in  public  with  one  in  that  fituation  ;  which,  by  the  way,  would 
make  one  wifh  with  Dr.  Johnfon,  that  there  were  no  young  people  admitted  in  that  fervile  ftate  in  a 
place  of  liberal  education. 

"  Servitors,  or  Sizers  as  they  are  called  in  Cambridge,  were  probably  appointed  when  colleges 
were  firft  eftablifhed,  and  when  there  was  a  fcarcity  of  fit  perfons  to  fupply  the  learned  profcflions, 
that  a  greater  number  might  have  the  advantage  of  literary  inftru&ion,  by  the  poorer  waiting  on  the 
more  affluent  ftudents. 

"  But  what  good  end  Can  it  anfwer  in  thefe  times,  when  every  genteel  profeffion  is  overftocked,  to 
rob  our  agricufcure  or  our  manufactures  of  fo  many  ufeful  hands,  by  encouraging  every  fubftantial 
farmer  or  mechanical  tradesman,  to  breed  his  fon  to  the  church  ? 

"  If  now  and  then  a  very  uncommon  genius  in  thofe  walks  of  life  difcovers  itfelf,  there  are  feldom 
wanting  gentlemen  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  are  proud  of  calling  fcrth,and  if  ncccffltry,  of  fupport- 
ing,  by  a  fubfcription,  fuch  extraordinary  talents. 

"  Mr.  Jago,  however,  who  was  the  fon  of  a  clergyman  in  Warwickfhire,  with  a  large  family,  and 
who  could  not  otherwife  have  given  his  fon  a  liberal  education,  may  be  thought  an  inftance  in  favour 
of  this  inftitution. 

"  But  I  make  no  doubt,  that  a  refpe&able  clergyman,  as  Mr.  Jago's  father  was,  might,  by  a  very 
flight  application  to  the  head,  or  fellows  of  almoft  any  college,  have  procured  fome  fcholarfhip  or 
exhibition,  lor  a  youth  of  genius,  and  properly  qualified;  which,  with  a  very  finall  additional  expc-ncc, 
might  have  fupported  him  in  the  univerfity,  without  placing  him  in  fo  humiliating  a  fituation,  which 
in  fome  future  period  of  his  life  (when,  perhaps,  his  parts  might  have  raifed  him  to  fome  eminence  in 
the  worldj ,  might  put  it  in  the  power  of  any  purfe-proud  fellow  collegian,  to  boaft  that  he  had  waited 
on  him  in  the  college;  though,  perhaps,  all  the  obligation  he  had  lain  under  to  fuch  a  patron,  was 
the  receiving  fixpence  a  week,  not  as  an  act  of  gcneroQty,  but  as  a  tribute  impofed  upon  him  by  the 
Handing  rules  of  the  fociety." 

He  took  his  degree  of  Mafter  of  Arts,  July  9.  1738,  having  taken  orders  the  year  before,  and  fcry» 
<d  the  curacy  of  Sjiitteriield,  near  Stratford  upon  Avon. 

U  u  ij 


.6-6  THE   LIFE   OF  JAGO. 

In  1744,  he  married  Dorothea  Sufanna  Fancourt,  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fancoarf,  of  Kilm- 
cote  in  Leicefterfnire. 

For  fcveral  years  after  his  marriage,  he  refidcdat  Harbury  ;  -to  which  living  he  was  inftitnted  in 
1746.  At  a  fmall  diftarice  lay  Chefterton,  given  him  about  the  fume  time  by  Lord'Willoughby  de 
Broke ;  the  two  together  amounting  to  about  icol.  a-ycar. 

Before  his  removal  from  Harbury,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  Iqfe  his  amiable  companion,  who  died 
in  1751,  leaving  him  a  numerous  family  of  fmall  children,  and  from  fuch  a  lofs  the  moft  inconfolable 
\vidower. 

In  1754,  Lord  Clare,  afterwards  Earl  Nugent,  who  had  a  great  regard  for  him,  by  his  intereft 
•with  Dr.  Madox,  Bifhop  of  Wprcefter,  procured  him  the  Vicarage  of  Snitterfield,  where  he  ha.d  for- 
.   merly  been  curate,  worth  about  140!.  a-year;  whither  he  removed,  and  where  he  refided  the  re 
mainder  of  his  life. 

In  1759. ne  niairied  a  fecond  wife,  Margaret,  the  daughter  of  James  Underwood,  Efq.  of  Budgely 
in  Staffordfliire. 

While  he  was  engaged  in  the  duties  of  his  profeffimi  as  a  country  clergyman,  which  he  performed 
with  exemplary  diligence,  he  found  leifure  to  indulge  his  early  propenfity  to  the  ftudy  of  poetry  ;  and 
carried  on  a  conftant  correfpondence  with  his  friend  Shenflone,  on  the  fubjeft  of  their  literary  ftudies 
and  poetical  compofitions. 

It  appears  from  Shenftone's  "  Letters,"  publifned  in  1769,  that  he  communicated  from  time  to, 
time  to  Mr.  jago  and  Mr.  Graves,  the  detail  of  his  improvements  at  the  Leafowes,  an  account  of  the 
•vifits  he  received  from  people  of  rank,  and  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  his  life.  His  eleventh  "  Elegy" 
is  addreffed  to  Jago.'  He  appears  alfo  to  have  lived  in  intimacy  with  Sornervile,  Mr.  Hylton,  Lady 
Luxborough,  and  other  friends  of  Shenflone, 

In  1752,  his  Elegy  on  tie  Blackbirds  was  publifhed  by  Dr.  Hawkefworth  in  the  "  Adventurer,"  and 
attributed  to  Weft.  It  was  afterwards  inferted  in  "  Dodfley's  Collection,"  with  his  name. 

When  it  firil  appeared  with  his  name  in  Dodfley's  Collection,  a,  manager  of  the  Bath  theatre  boafted 
in  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance,  that  he  was  the  authc/r  of  it,  and  that  Jugo  was  a  fictitious  name 
•which  he  had  adopted  from  the  celebrated  tragedy  of  "  Othello." 

It  is  remarkable,  that  Dr.  Johnfon,  in  his  "  Life  of  Weft,"  fhould  leave  this  affair  ftill  dubious; 
•when  it  is  demonfirable,  from  the  very  letters  of  Shenftone  to  which  he  refers,  that  Jago  was  the  real 
author. 

The  cafe  feems  to  have  been  thus  :  As  Shenflone  was  fond  of  communicating  any  poetical  produc 
tions  of  his  friends,  which  he  thought  would  do  them  credit,  he  probably  gave  a  copy  of  Jago's  el  gy 
to  the  Lyttlcton  family  at  Hagley,  where  Weil  frequently  viCted.  And  as  Weft  thought  it  v.  orthy 
to  appear  in  the"  Adventurer,"  he  might  fend  it  to  Dr.  Hawkefworth  without  mentioning  Jago's  name, 
•n'hich  was  then  very  little  known  in  the  world.  So  that  Dr.  Hawkefworth  might  well  imagine  that 
Weft  himfelf  was  the  author  cf  it,  as  Dr.  Johnfon  has  hinted. 

However  this  may  be,  there  is  a  living  evidence,  Mr.  Hylton,  the  editor  of  his  poems,  who  is  able 
and  ready  to  fupport  indifputably,  Jago's  claim  to  this  beautiful  elegy,  as  well  as  to  the  others  of  the 
Swallows  and  Goldjincbts. 

In  1767,  he  publifhed  his  Edge-Nil',  or  tic  rural  profpcH  JJimated  and  moralized,  a  poem,  in  four  books, 
4to,  which  completely  eftablifhed  his  poetical  reputation. 

In  1768,  he  publiflied  his  Labour  am!  Genius ,  or  tin  M':!l-St}cam\and  tie  CafcaJc,  a  Fullc,  turrlten  in 
ill  year  l"j6Z,  and  infcribcd  to  the  late  William  Shc;:Jlcnet  Efq,  4to.  It  conflfls  chiefly  of  encomiums  on  the 
genius  and  tafte  of  Shenflone. 

In  1771  he  was  prefented  by  Lord  Willoughby  de  Broke,  to  the  living  of  Kilmcote,  before  men 
tioned,  with  near  300!.  a-year,  and  rcfigned  the  vicarage  of  Harbury. ' 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  as  the  infirmities  of  age  came  upon  him,  he  fcldom  went  far  fronj 
home.  He  amufed  himfelf  at  his  leifure,  in  improving  his  vicarage-hcufe,  and  ornamenting  his 
grounds,  which  were  agreeably  fituated,  and  had  many  natural  beauties. 

After  a  fhort  illnefs,  he  died  on  the  8th  of  May  1781,  in  the  66th  year  of  his  age  ;  and  was  buried 
according  to  his  defire,  in  a  vault  which  he  had 'made  for  his  family  in  the  church  at  Snitterfield. 

He  had  children  only  by  his  firft  wife  ;  three  fons,  who  died  before  him,  and  four  daughters,  three 
•f  whom  we  living  in  1784. 

His  poem  of  Edge-Hill,  Labour  and  Genius,  Elegies,  &c.  were  reprinted,  as  they  were  corrected, 
isiproved,  and  enlarged  by  hina,  a  fhort  time  before  his  death,  with  Adam,  or  the  Fatal  Difol/edience,  as 


THE    LlpE   OF   JAGO.  67? 

Or  jf  •;/•/»,  compiled 'from  tie  ParaJif-  Lojl  of  Milton.,  and  adapted  it  iKti/ic ;  and  fo'me  additional  pieces, 
never  before  printed,  in  one  volume  8vo.,  under  the  title  of  Poems,  Moral  and  Dtfcripti-ui,  by  tit  late 
Richard  J-J?o,  M.  A.  with  a  preface,  containing  an  account  of  his  life  and  character,  by  his  friend  Mr. 
Hylton,  which  has  been  chieily  followed  in  this  account.  They  are  now,  reprinted  from  the  edition 
1784,  for.  the  full  time  received  into  a  collection  of  claffical  Englifh  fi  oetry.  The  Oratorii  is  omitted 
in  this  edition  ;  becaufe  it  is  merely  a  compilation  from  the  "  Paradiie  Loft,"  in  the  language  of 
Milton,  adapted  to  repreibntation.  An  Oratorio,  on  a  fimilar  plan,  intituled,  "  Paradife  Loft,"  wa!s 
prefer  ted  to  the  world,  by  the  amiable  and  ingenious  naturalift  and  poet  Air.  Stillmgfieet,  in  1760. 

The  character  of  Jago  appears  to  have  been  truly  amiable  and  refpectable.  To  his  learning,  tafle, 
anu  good  fenfe,' Shed/lone,  Graves,  &c.  bear  ample  feflimony.  His  moral  and  intellectual  character 
has  been  fo  accurately  delineated  by  the  friendly  pencil  of  Mr.  Hylton,  as  to  render  the  after-lit  okes 
of  a  cufual  hand  unnecefiary. 

"  Mr.  Ja»o  in  his  j-erfon,"  fays  Mr.  Hylton,  who  knew  him  well,  "  was  about  the  middle  flaturc^ 
In  his  manner,  like  moil  people  of  knfibility,  he  appeared  referved  amongft  ftrangers;  amongft  his 
friends  he  was  free  and  eafy,  and  his  converfation  fprightly  and  entertaining.  In  domeftic  life,  he  was 
the  affectionate  hufband,  the  tender  parent,  the  kind  mafter,  the  hofpitable  neighbour,  and  fincere 
friend,  and  both  by  his  dodrine  and  example,  a  faithful  and  worthy  riiinifter  of  the  parifli  over  which 
he  prefided. 

"  To  do  juftice  to  Mr.  Jago's  character  as  a  poet,  would  require  the  pen  of  a  more  able  writer. 
It  may  fafely  be  afferted,  however,  on  the  authority  of  the  pu'blic  approbation  which  they  have  al 
ready  met  with,  that  the  pieces  on  which  we  reA  his  po-tical  fame,  viz.  his  poem  of  Edge- Hill,  his 
fable  of  Labour  and  C-taius,  and  his  Elegies  ori  the  Blackbirds,  &c.  are  all  eicellerit  in  their  kind. 

"  The  poem  of  EJge-Hill,  though  the  fubject  is  local  and  chiefly  dcfcriptive,  yet  he  has  contrived 
to  make  it  generally  interefling,  by  his  hiftoncal  narrations  and  digreffi  ve  epifodes ;  and  by  his  philofo- 
phical  difquifitions  or  moral  reflexions  ;  particularly  the  philofophical  account  of  the  Origin  of  Moun- 
'tains,  which  is  equally  curious  and  poetical.  His  defcription  of  the  Earl  of  Leicefter's  Entertainment 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  at  Kenehvorth  CatHe,  which  is  truly  characteriftic  of  that  pedantic  age;  as  the 
moral  reflections  on  the  ruins  and  departed  grandeur  of  that  fupern  flvucture,  is  in  the  beft  manner  of 
Young,  in  his  "  Night  Thoughts."  The  flory  of  the  youth  reftorcd  to  fight,  from  the  "  Tatler,"  is  told 
with  fo  many  natural  and  affecting  circumftancef,  as  makes  Mr.  Jago's  poethal  much  fuperior  to  Sir 
Richard  Steele's/r»/£  narration.  The  hiftorical  account  of  the  important  b'attle  of  Kineton  or  JLdgc- 
lllll,  contains  feme  curious  facts  not  generally  known,  as  well  as  Very  fuitab'le  reflections,  religious  and 
moral,  on  the  fatal  effects  of  civil  dil'cord. 

"  The  fable  of  Libour  and  Genius,  the  fubject  of  which  was  fuggefled  by  Mr.  Shenflone,  is  told 
•with  fome  humour,  and  great  clearnefs  and  prccifion,  with, a  very  iifeful  moral  forcibly  inculcated. 

"  In  the  beautiful  elegy  On  the  BlaMlrds,  as  well  as  in  the  other*  of  the  Swallows  and  Goldjinclts^ 
Mr.  Jago's  original  genius  appears,  and  as  Thomfon  ^uys,  he  has 

.- ^—  touch 'd  a  theme 

Unknown  to  fame,  the  pallion  of  the  groves. 

"  Among  the  additional  pieces,  which  how  make  their  firfl  appearance,  the  Roundelay  for  the  Strat> 
ford  Jpbilee,  in  particular,  is  beautifully  expreffive  and  charadleriftic  of  Sliakfpeare's  veriatile  genius 
and  multifaiious  excellence.'* 

Thefe  obfervations  might  be  dill  augmented,  by  a  more  minute  examination  and  developement  of 
the  beauties  in  bis  E<lge-HH!  and  £<<£/«,  which,  if  he  had  written  nothing  elfe,  arc  fufficient  to  entitle 
him  to  a  claffical  diftin(ftion  among  the  poets  of  our  country. 

As  a  defcriptive  poet,  he  evinces  a  picturefque  imagination,  a  correil  judgment,  and  a  delicate  taflej 
refined  by  a  careful  perufal  of  the  ancient  dallies.  His  Edge-Hill  ranks  with  the  "  Cooper's  Hill"  of 
Denham,  the  "  Grongar  Hill"  of  Dyer,  and  fimilar  compofitions  of  other  writers,  who  have  proved 
their  powers  in  loco-defcriptive  poetry.  It  is  written  in  blank  verfe,  and  exhibits  a  fpeeimen  of  great 
ftrcngth  and  harmony  in  that  metre.  The  diction  is  elegant  and  poetical.  He  diicovers  no  want  of 
cafe  or  fancy ;  and  fhows  a  gcodnefs  of  difpofition  in  every  part  of  Lis  work. 

"  The  title  is  EJ^-Hiil,"  he  informs  us,  in  his  introduction,  "  a  place  taken  notice  of  by  all  the 
topographical  writers  who  have  had  occafion  to  mention  it ;  for  its  extenfive  and  agreeable  profpcct^ 
and  farther,  unhappily  diftinguiihed  by  being  the  fcene  of  the  firft  battle  between  the  forces  of  King 

tf  U  iij 


67&  THE  LIFE   OF   JAGO. 

Charles  and  thofe  of  the  Parliament,  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Effex,  in  the  year  1642. 
Thefe  two  circumftances  of  natural  beauty -and  hiftorical  importance,  coinciding  with  the  affection  of 
the  writer  for  his  native  country,  lying  at  the  foot  of  this  celebrated  mountain,  prefented  to  his  mind 
a  theme  for  poetical  imagery  too  pleafing  to  be  refilled  by  him.  His  bufinefs,  therefore,  was  firft 
to  felect  a  ftock  of  materials  fit  for  his  purpofe,  and  then  to  arrange  them  in  the  heft  manner  he  could. 
Eoth  thefe  points  he  endeavoured  to  effect,  not  only  by  confulting  his  eye,  but  alfo  by  confidering 
the  chara&er,  natural  hiftory,  and  other  circumftances  of  fuch  places  as  were  moft  likely  to  afford 
matter  for  ornament  or  inftruction  of  this  kind ;  forming  from  the  whole,  by  an  imaginary  line,  a 
number  of  diftant  fcenes,  placed  in  the  moft  advantageous  light,  and  correfponding  with  the  different 
times  of  the  day,  each  exhibiting  an  entire  picture,  and  containing  its  due  proportion  of  objects  and 
colouring. 

"  In  the  execution  of  this  defign,  he  endeavoured 'to  make  it  as  extenfively  interefting  as  he  could, 
by  the  frequent  introduction  of  general  fentimehts,  and  moral  reflections ;  and  to  enliven  the  defcrip- 
tive  part  by  digrefiions  and  epifodes  belonging  to,  or  deducible  from  the  fubject ;  divefting  himfelf 
as  much  as  poffible  of  all  partiality  in  matters  of  a  public  concernment;  in  private  ones,  following 
with  more  freedom,  the  fentiments  and  dictates  of  his  own  mind." 

That  poetry  which  is  employed  in  rural  defcription,  lies  under  many  difadvantages.  Though 
there  is  a  variety,  there  is  likewife  an  uniformity  in  the  works  of  nature,  which  renders  it  difficult 
to  embellifh  fuch  fubjects  that  have  not  been  exhibited  by  former  writers.  Hence  it  arifes,  that  he 
who  has  perufed  one  defcriptive  poem  of  this  kind,  is  often  ftruck  with  a  feeming  repetition  of  ideas; 
and  more  fenfibly  fo,  where  the  places  defcribed  have  no  previous  feat  in  his  own  imagination.  The 
poet  who  defcribes,  or  the  reader  who  perufes  defcriptions  of  fcenes  familiar  to  him,  will  eafily  find 
the  diftiiict  images  awakened  by  general  terms ;  but  he  who  is  to  imprefs  a  local  picture  in  his  fancy, 
merely  from  the  combination  of  words,  will  find  little  novelty  in  thefe  reiterated  defcriptions  of  coun 
try  profpectsv  The  poem  of  Edge-Hill  is  local ;  and  though  it  is  embellifhed  with  ftrong  painting, 
apt  allufions,  hiftorical  incidents,  and  moral  reflections,  yet  its  defcriptions  are  not  always  adapted  ex- 
clufively  to  the  place  it  profeffes  to  celebrate.  Like  the  defcriptions  of  Thomfon,  they  do  not  always 
apply  to  any  particular  fpot,  or  raife  any  ideas  of  locality,  but  more  frequently  pleafe,  by  exhibiting 
the  general  views  and  effects  of  nature.  The  different  times  of  the  day,  Morning,  Noon,  Afternoon,  and 
Night,  produce  an  agreeable  diverfity  of  defcription.  Pathetic  reflections,  and  moral  inftructions, 
are  often  happily  introduced,  in  places  where  one  expects  only  painting  and  amufement.  Through 
the  whole  poem,  the  defcriptions  of  places,  and  images  raifed  by  the  poet,  are  ftill  tending  to  fomc 
hint,  or  leading  to  fome  reflection  upon  moral  life  or  political  inftituticn,  that  have  a  relation  to  the 
object.  But  the  moralizing  of  his  rural  paintings,  is  fometir.ies  attended  with  quaintnefs,  and  a  forced 
manner.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  inveftigate  the  caufe :  All  moral  truths  are  of  an  abftracted  nature  ;  and 
when  we  attempt  to  ilhiftrate  them  by  objects  of  the  fenfes,  the  tranfition  from  the  natural  fimplicity 
of  the  latter,  to  the  refinemerit  of  the  former,  is  incompatible  with  that  eafe  which  we  expect  to  find 
in  poetical  defcriptions,  and  interrupts  that  attention  which  we  are  always  inclined  to  afford.  The 
digreffions  and  epifodes  arife  naturally  from  the  fubject,and  enliven  the  defcription;  but  the  epifode 
•of  the  blind  youth  in  the  third  book,  is  perhaps  too  long.  Where  epifodes  are  introduced,  in  works  of 
this  kind,  they  fhould  be  related  in  no  very  tedious  or  circumftantial  manner;  becaufc  we  are  not 
•willing  to  be  long  detained  from  the  principal  fubject.  The  famous  ftory  of  the  Lady  Godi-ua  of  Co 
ventry,  will  be  read  with  pleafure.  The  rules  he  lays  down  for  the  fituation  and  conftruction  of  a  ru- 
•lal  feat,  are  worthy  of  the  genius  and  tafte  of  Shenftone.  They  fhow  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  true 
tafte  and  good  obfervation. 

Of  his  Ehgies  on  the  BLckbvds,  GoLlfincbes,  and  Swallows,  the  extenfive  popularity  is  the  bed  eu- 
log-um.  They  are  characterized  by  an  amiable  humanity,  and  tender  fimplicity  of  thought  and  ex- 
preflion,  which  juftly  entitle  him  to  the  exelufive  diflinction  of  the  "  poet  of  the  birds."  They  have 
received  the  higheft  applaufe  from  Dr.  Aikin,  in  his  ingenious  and  entertaining  "  Effay  on  the  appli 
cation  of  Natural  Hiftory  to  poetry."  Grame,  Mr.  Pratt,  and  other  poets,  have  fuccefsfully  em 
ployed  fimilar  circumftances  of  fictitious  diftrefs  in  their  compofitions;  but  the  praife  of  invention, 
and  the  palm  of  merit,  in  this  fpecies  of  elegy,  belong  to  Jago.  Re'fpecting  his  fable  of  Labour  and 
Ceniut.,  the  prefent  writer  is  happy  to  coincide  with  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Hylton. 

His  Eclogues  and  fmaller  pieces,  have  confiderable  merit ;  but  they  require  no  diftind  examination, 
or  particular  criticifm.  5 


THE  WORKS  OF  JAGO. 


ANY  AUTHOR,  AND  FOR  ANY  BOOK. 


THE  following  flieets  were  fairly  tranfcribed,  the 
title  page  was  adjufted,  and  every  thing,  as  the 
writer  thought,  in  readinefs  for  the  prefs,  when, 
upon  c^Kng  his  eyes  over  them  for  the  laft  time, 
with  more  than  ufual  attention,  fomethrng  feem- 
ed  wanting,  which,  after  a  fhort  paufe,  he  per 
ceived  to  be  the  preface.  Now,  it  is  fit  the  read 
er  fliould  know,  as  an  apology  for  this  teeming 
inattention,  that  he  had  formerly  rejected  this 
article  under  a  notion  of  its  being  fuperfluous.  and 
uninterefting  to  the  reader ;  but  now  when  mat 
ters  were  come  to  a  crifis,  and  it  wa*  almoft  too 
late,  he  changed  his  mind,  and  thought  a  preface 
as  effential  to  the  figure  of  a  book,  as  a.  portico  is 
to  that  of  a  building. 

Not  that  the  author  would  infinuate  by  this 
comparifon,  that  his  paper  edifice  was  entitled  to 
any  thing  fviperb  and  pompous  of  this  fort ;  but 
only  that  it  wanted  fomethring  plain  and  decent, 
between  the  beggarly  ftyle  of  Quarles,  or  Ogilby, 
and  the  magnificence  of  the  prutufe  Dryden.  Far 
be  it  from  him  by  calling  this  fmall  appendage 
to  his  work  by  the  name  of  a  portico,  or  an  anti- 
chamber,  or  a  veftibule.  or  the  like,  to  raife  the 
readei's  expectations,  or  to  encourage  any  ideas 
but  thofe  of  the  moft  fimple  kind,  as  introductory 
to  his  fubfequent  entertainment:  neither  would 
he,  like  foute  undertakers  in  literary  architecture, 
beftow  as  much  expence  on  the  entrance,  as,  pru 
dently  managed,  might  furnifh  the  lofty  town 
apartments,  or  paftoral  villa  of  a  modern  poet. 
On  the  contrary,  he  referves  all  his  finery  of  carv 
ing  and  gilding,  as  well  as  his  pictures,  and  ca 
binets  for  their  proper  places  within. 

But  for  the  further  illultration  of  his  meaning, 
he  choofes  to  have  recourfe  to  allufions  more 
nearly  related  to  his  fubject,  fuch  as  the  prelude 


to  a  fong,  or  the  prologue  to  a  play,  there  being 
evidently  a  great  affinity  between  rhiming  and 
fidling,  writing  verfes,  and  playing  the  fool. 

Another  confideration  which  greatly  influenced 
the  author  in  this  point,  was,  the  refpect  which 
he  bears  to  the  public.  For,  conceiving  himfelf 
now  in  the  very  act  of  making  his  appearance 
before  every  circle  of  the  polite,  and  learned 
world,  he  was  (truck  with  awe.  and  felt  as  if  he 
had  been  guilty  of  ibme  indecorum,  like  a  perfort 
abruptly  breaking  into  good  company  with 'his 
hat  on,  or  without  making  a  bow.  For  though, 
by  his  iituation  in  life,  he  is  happily  relieved  from 
any  perfonal  embarfaffment  of  this  kind,  yet  he 
confiders  his  book  as  his  proxy,  and  he  would  by 
no  means  have  his  proxy  guilty  of  fuch  an  impro 
priety  as  to  keep  his  hat  on  before  all  the  learned 
men  of  Europe,  or  to  omit  making  his  bow  upon 
being  admitted  to  an  audience,  or  prefented  in 
the  drawing-room. 

Great  is  the  force  of  this  little  article  of  gcfti- 
cuiation,  from  the  loweft  clais  of  orators  in  the 
itreet,  to  thofe  in  the  highelt  departments  in  life  ; 
infomuch  that  it  has  been  thought  a  prudent, 
attentive,  and  fldlful  manager,  either  on  the  ftage, 
or  at  the  bar,  as  well  as  the  bowing  Dean  in  his 
walk,  may  acquire  as  much  fuccefs,  amongft  po 
lite  ana  well-bred  people,  and  particularly  the 
ladies,  who  are  the  bed  judges,  by  the  magic  of 
his  bow,  as  by  any  other  part  of  his  action,  or 
oratory. 

Yet,  notwithftandbg  all  that  the  author  has 
faid  concerning  this  external  mark  of  reverence, 
he  is  fenfible  that  there  is  a  fet  of  cynical  philo- 
fophers,  wh»  are  fo  far  from  paying  it  due  re 
gard,  that  they  count  it  no  better  than  a  refined 
ipecies  of  idolatry,  and  an  abomination  utterly 
U  u  iiij 


THE   WORKS    OF  JAGO. 


unbecoming  fo  noble  and  erect  a  creature  as  man. 
Upon  thefe  gentlemen  it  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  the  beft  bow  which  the  author,  or  his  book 
could  make,  would  have  any  effect ;  and  there 
fore  he  (hall  decline  that  ceremony  with  them, 
to  take  them  by  the  hand  in  a  friendly  manner, 
hoping  that  they  will  make  feme  allowance  for 
bis  having  been  taught  againft  his  own  confent  to 
jacce.  and  fcribble  from  his  infancy. 

He  is  aware,  likewife,  that  there  is  another  feet 
of  philofophers.  whom  his  ingenious  friend  Mr. 
Oraves,  author  of  the  Spintual  (£uixotte,  diftin- 
guifhes  by  the  name  of  cenfonous  Chriftians, 
"  who,"  as  he  exprefies  it,  "  will  not  fuffer  a  man 
to  nod  in  his  elbow-chftir,  or  to  talk  nonfenfe 
without  contradicting  or  ridiculing  him  ''—But 
as  the  writer  of  this  admirable  work  has  fliown 
himfelf  fo  able,  and  fuccelsful  a  cafuift  in  a  iimi- 
lar  inftance  of  a  petulant,  and  over-officious  zeal, 
he  hopes  thefe  gentlemen  will,  in  imitation  cf 
Mr.  Wildgoofe,  for  the  future  refrain  ff  oin  a  prac 
tice  fo  injurious  to  their  neighbours  repofe,  a:<d 
fo  contrary  to  all  the  laws  of  civility  and  good 
manners. 

It  is  tme,  fome  of  thefe  literati  may  be  conu- 
tiered  under  a  more  formidable  character,  from 
their  cuftom  of  holding  a  monthly  meeting,  or 
office  for  arraigning  the  conduct  of  all  whom  they 
fufpect  of  maintaining  heretical  opinions  contrary 
to  their  jurifdiction.  In  this  view,  thefe  good  fa 
thers  fcruple  not  to  put  an  author  upon  the  rack 
for  the  flighted  offence,  and  not  content  with 


their  claims  of  infpiration  and  infallibility,  will 
torture  his  own  words  to  prove  his  guilt.  In  the 
execution  of  this  office,  they  judge  all  men  by  their 
owh  ftandard,  and  like  the  tyrant  Procruftes,  re- 
gardlefs  of  the  acute  pain  they  inflict  at  every 
itroke,  will  k>]>  oiT  a  foot,  or  any  other  portion  of 
an  author's  matter,  or  lengthen  it  out,  as  beft 
fuits  their  purpofe,  to  bring  him  to  their  meafure. 
But,  to  the  iuexpreflible  comfort  of  himfelf,  and 
of  e»ery  free-born  Engiifli  writer,  the  author  re 
flects  that  the  competence  of  fuch  a  court  cannot 
be  admitted  in  a  Proteftant  country  ;  and  to  fpeak 
the  trut^i,  from  experience,  its  power,  as  exercifed 
amongft  us,  though  (rill  very  tremendous,  is  tem 
pered  with  a  gentlenefs  and  moderation  unknown 
to  thofe  of  Spain  and  Portugal. 

But  though  the  author  is  not  without  hopes,  by 
his  complaifance,  and  condefcenfion,  to  conciliate 
the  affections  of  all  thofe  various  fects  of  the 
learneain  every  part  of  the  world,  yet  his  prin 
cipal  dependance  is  upon  the  gentle  and  humane, 
whofe  minds  are  always  open  to  the  feelings  of 
others,  as  well  as  to  the  gratification  of  their 
own  refined  tafte  and  fentiments;  and  to  thefe 
he  makes  his  appeal,  which  he  hopes  they  will  ac 
cept  as  a  tribute  due  to  their  fuperior  merit,  and 
a  teftimony  of  the  profound  refpect,  with  which 
be  is  their 

Moft  obedient, 

Humble  fervant, 

The  AUTHOR.--.., 
6 


POEMS. 


68 1 


E  D  G  E  -  H  I  L  L :    A  P  O  E  M. 

IN  FOUR  BOOKS. 


"  Salve,  magna  parens  frugutn,  Saturnia  tellus. 
"  Magna  vifum  !  tibi  res  antiquse  landis,  et  artes 
"  Jngredior,  fancies  aufus  recludere  fontcs." 


VIE  a. 


«  Our  fight  is  the  moft  perfect  and  mo'l  delightful  of  all  our  fenfes.  It  fills  the  mind  with  the 
*'  largeft  variety  of  ideas,  converfes  with  its  objects  at  the  greafelt  diftance,  and  continues  the 
"  longeft  in  a&ion  without  being  tired,  or  i'atiated  with  its  proper  enjoyment.'1 

Sfefiator,  ff».  411,  On  the  Pleafures  of  Imagination. 


PREFACE. 


THE  following  poem  takes  its  name  from  a  ridge 
of  hills,  which  is  the  boundary  between  the  coun 
ties  of  Oxford  and  Warwick,  and  remarkable  for 
its  beautiful  and  extenfive  project,  of  which  the 
latter  forms  a  confiderable  part.  This  circum- 
ftance  afforded  the  writer  an  opportunity,  very 
agreeable  to  him,  of  paying  a  tribute  to  his  na 
tive  country,  by  exhibiting  its  beauties  to  the 
public  in  a  poetical  delineation  ;  divided,  by  an 
imaginary  line,  into  a  number  of  diftincl  fcenes, 


BOOK  I. 
MORNING. 

ARGUMEKT. 

The  fubject  propofed.  Addrefs.  Afcent  to  the 
Hill.  General  View.  Companion.  Philofo- 
phical  Account  of  the  Origin  and  formation  of 
Mountains,  &c.  Morning  View,  comprehend 
ing  the  South-Weft  Part  of  the  Scene,  inter- 
fperfed  with  Elements  and  lixainplesofiur.il 
Tafte  ;  fhowing,  at  the  fame  Time,  its  Con 
nexion  with,  and  Dependence  upon  Civil  Go 
vernment  ;  and  concluding  with  an  Historical 
Epifode  of  the  Red-Horfe. 

BRITANNIA'S  rural  charms,  and  tranquil  fcenes, 
Far  from  the  circling  ocean,  where  her  fleets, 
I^ike  *  Eden's  nightly  guards,  majeftic  ride, 
I  fing ;  O  may  the  theme  and  kindred  foil 
Propitious  prove,  and  to  th'  appointed  hill 
Invite  the  mufes  from  their  cloifter'd  (hades, 
With  me  to  rove,  and  harmonize  the  ftrain  ! 
Nor  fliall  they,  for  a  time,  regret  the  lofs 
Of  their  lov'd  Ifis,  and  fair  Cherwel's  ftream, 
While  to  the  north  of  their  own  beauteous  fields 
The  pidlur'd  fcene  they  view,  where  Avon  fliapcs 
His  winding  way,  enlarging  as  it  flows, 
Nor  hafl.es  to  join  Sabrina's  prouder  wave. 

1  *  Mihsn.   faradife  Ltftt  Book  iv. 


correfponding  with  the  different  times  of  the  day, 
each  forming  an  entire  pidhire,   and  containing    < 
its  due  proportion  of  objects  and  colouring. 

In  the  execution  of  this  defign,  he  endeavoured 
to  make  it  as  extenfively  interefting  as  he  could, 
by  the  frequent  introduction  of  general  reflec 
tions,  hiltoricnl,  philosophical,  and  moral  ;  and  to 
enliven  the  defcription  by  digreflions  and  epifodes, 
naturally  arifing  from  the  fubjeift. 


Like  a  tall  rampart,  here  the  mountain  rears 
Its  verdant  edge;   and,  it  the  tuneful  maids 
Their  prefence  deign,  (hall  with  Parnatfus  •vie. 
Level,  and  fmooth  the  track,  which  thither  leads  ! 
Of  champaign  bold  and  fait !  Its  adverle  fide 
Abrupt,   and   Jteep !    Thanks,    Millerf  !    to   thy 

paths, 

That  eaie  our  winding  fteps !  Thanks  to  the  fount 
The  trees,  the  flow  'rs,  imparting  to  the  fenfe 
Fragrance  or  dulcet  found  of  murm'ricg  rill,    ' 
And  Hilling  ev'ry  tumult  in  the  bread  I 
And  oft  the  (lately  tow'rs,  that  overtop 
The  rifing  wood,  and  oft  the  broken  arch, 
Or  moultiVing  wall,  well  taught  to  counterfeit 
The  wafte  of  time,  to  folernn  thought  excite, 
And  crown  with  graceful  pomp  the  ftiaggy  hill. 

t  So  virtue  paints  the  fleep  ai'cent  to  lame: 
So  her  aerial  reiidence  dilplays. 

Still  let  thy  friemifnip,  which  precar'd  the  way, 
Attend,  and  guide  me,  as  my  ravifh'd  fight 
O'er  the  bleak  hill,  or  fheker'd  valley  roves. 
Teach  me  with  juft  ^blervance  to  remark 
Their  various  charms,  their  ftoried  fame  record, 
And  to  the  vifual  join  the  mental  fearch. 

The  fummit'sgain'd  1  and,  from  its  airy  height 
The  late-trod  plain  looks  like  an  inland  lea, 
Vievv'd  froiu  fome  promontory's  hoary  head, 

*  Sanderfon.  Miller,  Efq.  of  Radutay. 
t  £«•   LotU  Sbuftjburys  Judgment  of  Hercv~ 
let. 


Ǥa  THE   WORKS    OF  JAGO. 

With  diftant  fiiores  environ'd  ;  not  with  face 
Glafiy,  and  uniform,  but  when  its  waves 
Are  gently  ruffled  by  the  fouthern  gale, 
And  the  tall  mafblike  waving  forefts  rife. 

Such  is  the  fcene,  that  from  the  terrac'd  hill, 
Difpiaysits  graces;  intermixture  fwc-et 
Of  lawns  and  groves,  of  open  and  retir'd. 
Vales,  farms,  towns,  villas,  caitles,  diftant  fpires, 
And  hills  on  hili\  with  ambient  clouds  enrob'd, 
In  long  fucceffion  court  the  lab'ring  fight, 
Loft  in  the  bright  confufion*     Thus  the  youth, 
Efcap'd  from  painful  drudgery  of  words, 
Views  the  fait  fields  of  fcience  wide  difplay'd  ; 
Where  Phcebus  dwells,  and  all  the  tuneful  nine ; 
Perplex'd  awhile  he  ftands,  and  now  to  this, 
Now  that  bleft  feat  of  harmony  divine 
Explores  his  way,  with  giddy  rapture  tir'd  : 
Till  fome  fage  Mentor,  whofe  experienc'd  feet 
Have  trod  the  mazy  path,  directs  his  fearch. 
And  leads  him  wond'ring  to  their  bright  abodes. 
Come  then,  my  friend  !  guide  thou  th'  advent'rous 

nuue, 

And  with  thy  counfel  regulate  her  flight. 
Yet,  ere  the  fweet  excurtion  (he  begins, 
O  !  liften,  while,  from  facred  records  drawn, 
My  daring  fong  unfolds  the  caufe,  whence  rofe 
This  various  face  of  things — of  high,  and  low — 
Of  rough  and  fmooth.    For  with  its  parent  earth 
Coeval  not  prevail'd  what  now  appears 
Of  hill  End  dale  ;  nor  was  its  new-form'd  fhape, 
Like  a  fmooth,  polifh'd  orb,  a  furface  plain, 
Wanting  the  fweet  variety  of  change, 
Concave,  convex,  the  deep,  and  the  fublime  t 
Nor,  From  old  ocean's  wat'ry  bed,  were  fcoop'd 
Its  neighb'iing  (bores;  nor  were  they  now  de- 

prefi'd, 

Now  rais'd  by  fudclen  fhocks  5  but  falhion'd  all 
In  perfect  harmony,  by  *  laws  divine, 
On  uafi.ve  matter,  at  its  birth  imprefs'd. 

When  now  two  days,    as  mortals  count  their 

time, 

TL'  Almighty  had  employ VI  on  man's  abode; 
To  motion  rous'd  the  ciead,  inactive  mats, 
The  darkilhiinin'd,  and  the  parts  terrene 
Impelling  each  to  each  the  circle  form'd, 
Compact,  and  firm,  or  earth's  fiupendous  orb, 
With  boundlefs  leas,  as  with  a  garment  cloth "d, 
On  the  third  morn  he  bade  the  waters  flow 
Down  to  their  piace,  and  let  dry  land  appear; 
.And  it  was  fo.    Strait  to  their  deftin'd  bed, 
tFrom  every  part,  th'  obedient  waters  ran, 
Shaping   their  downward   courfe ;  and,  as  they 

found 

Refinance  varying  with  the  varying  foil, 
In  their  retreat  they  form'd  the  gentle  (lope, 


*  Amongft  the  many  j'ancifnlc nnccitsofnvt  iters 
•t/i  the  fuLjecl,  a  learned  divine,  in  bis  confuta 
tion  of  Dr.  Burnett's  theory,  J'ufpofes  that  hills 
tend  mountains  might  be  ccrajicned  by  fermenta 
tion,  after  the  nwnner  of  leaven  in  dough  ;  'while 
ttbers  bfii'e  attributed  their  production  to  the  fe 
deral  different  caufcs  mentioned  above. 

The  following  fotittitm,  by  the  defcent  of  water 
from  the  furface  of  tie  earth  to  the  centre  fccmed 
niofl  ea/'y,  and  natural  to  the  anibor,  and  is  ihere- 
J\re  adopted.  Vid.  Warren's  Geologise,  i6p8. 


Or  headlong  precipice,  or  deep-worn  dale, 
Or  valley,  ftretching  far  its  winding  maze, 
As  farther  ftrll  their  humid  train  they  led, 
By  heav'n  directed  to  the  *  realms  below. 

Now  firft  was  feen  the  variegated  face 
Of  earth's  fair  Orb  fhap'd  by  the  plaftic- flood  : 
Now  fmooth  and  level  like  its  liquid  plains, 
Now,  like  its  ruffled  waves,  fweet  interchange 
Of  hill  and  dale,  and  now  a  rougher  fcene, 
Mountains  on  mountains  lifted  to  the  fky. 
Such' was  her  infant  form,  yet  unadorn'd  1 
And  in  the  naked  foil  the  fubtle  f  ftream 
Fretted  its  winding  track.     So  he  ordain'd  I 
Who  form'd  the  fluid  mafs  of  atoms  fmall, 
The  principles  of  things  '.  who  moid  from  dry, 
From  heavy  fever'd  light,  compacting  clofe 
The  folid  glebe,  ftratum.of  rock,  or  ore, 
Or  crumbly  marl,  or  clofe  tenacious  clay, 
Or  what  befide,  in  wond'rous  order  rang'd, 
Orb  within  orb,  earth's  fecret  depths  contains. 

So  was  the  fhapely  fphere,  on  ev'ry  fide, 
With  equal  preffiire  of  furrounding  air 
Suftain'd,  of  fea  and  land  harmonious  form'd. 
Nor  beauteous  cov'ring  was  withheld,  for  draft, 
At  the  divine  command,  the  verd'rous  grafs 
Upfprang  unfown,  with  ev'ry  feedful  herb, 
Fruit,  plant,  or  tree,  pregnant  with  future  (lore  ; 
God  faw  the  whole — And  lo  !  'twas  very  good. 
But  man,  ungrateful  man  '.  to  deadly  ill 
Soon  turn'd  the  good  beftow'd  with  horrid  crimes 
Polluting  earth's  fair  feat,  his  Maker's  gift  ! 
Till  mercy  could  no  more  with  juftice  drive. 

Then  wrath  divine  unbarr'd  heav'n's  wat'ry 

gates, 

And  loos'd  the  fountains  of  the  great  abyfs. 
Again  the  waters  o'er  the  earth  prevail'd. 
Hills  rear'd  their  heads  in  vain.    Full  forty  days 
The   flood  increas'd,  nor,  till  feven  moons  had 

wan'd, 

Appear'd  the  mountain-tops.    Perifh'd  all  flefli, 
One  family  except  1  and  all  the  works 
Of  art  were  fwept  into  th'  oblivious  pool. 
In  that  dread  time  what  change  th'  avenging 

flood 

Might  caufe  in  earth's  devoted  fabric,  who 
Of  mortal  birth  can  tell?    Whether  again 
'Twas  to  its  brft  chaotic  J  mafs  reduc'd, 
To  be  reform'd  anew  ?  or,  in  its  orb, 
What  violence,  what  §  difruptions  it  endur'd  ?      , 
What  ancient  mountains  dood  the  furious  (hock  ? 
AVhar  new  arofc  ?  For  doubtlefs  new  there  are, 
If  all  are  not ;  ftrong  proof  exhibiting 
Of  later  rife,  and  their  once  fluid  date, 


*  Called  in  fcripture,  the  deep,  the  great  deep, 
the  deep  that  lietb  under,  or  betlemtb  the  earth — 
the  Tartarus  or  Erebus  of  the  heathens. 

f "  So  the  wat'ry  throng 

"   With  ferment  error  wand'ring  found  their  way, 
"  And  on  the  wafhy  ooze  deep  channels  wore. 
"  Eafy  !  ere  God  had  bid  the  ground  be  dry, 
"  All  but  within  thofe  banks,  where  rivers  now 
"  Stream,  and  perpetual  draw  their  humid  train." 
Milton.  Paradifi  Loft,  Book  iiii. 

J  According  to  Mr.  Hutchinfon  and  bis  fol 
lowers. 

\  According  to  Dr.  Burnett's  "Theory. 


POEMS. 


683 


By  ftranger  foffils,  in  their  inraoft  bed 

Of  loofer  mould,  or  marble  rock  entomb'dr 

Or  fliell  marine,  incorp'rate  with  themielves : 

Nor  lefs  the  *  conic  hill,  with  ample  baie, 

Or  fcarry  *  ilope  by  rufliing  billows  torn, 

Or  *  fiffure  deep,  in  the  late  delug'd  foil 

Cleft  by  fucceeding  drought,  fide  anfwering  fide, 

And  curve  to  adverfe  curve  exact  oppos'd, 

Confefs  the  wat'ry  pow'r;   while  fcatter'd  trains, 

Or  rocky  fragments,  wafh'd  from  broken  hills, 

Take  up  the  tale,  and  fpread  it  round  the  globe. 

Then,  as  the  flood  retir'd,  another  face 

Of  things  appear'd,  another,  and  the  fame  ! 

Taurus,  and  Libanus,  and  Atlas  feign'd 

To  prop  the  Ikies !   and  that  fam'd  Alpine  ridge, 

Or  Appeninc,  or  fnow-clad  Caucafus, 

Or  Ararat  en  whole  emergent  top 

Firft  moor'd  that  precious  bark,  whofe  chofen 

.    crew 

Again  o'erfpread  earth's  univerfal  orb. 
For  now,  as  at  the  tuft,  from  ev'ry  tide 
Hafted  the  waters  to  their  ancient  bounds, 
The  vaft  abyfs  1  perhaps  from  thence  afcend, 
Urg'd  by  th'  incumbent  air,  through  mazy  clefts 
Beneath  the  deep,  or  rife  in  vapours  warm, 
Piercing  the  vaulted  earth,  anon  condens'd 
Within  the  lofty  mountains'  fecret  cells, 
Ere  they  their  fummit  gain,  down  their  fteep  fides 
To  trickle  in  a  never-ceafing  f  round. 
So  up  the  porous  Hone,  or  cryftal  tube 
The  philofophic  eye  with  wonder  views 
The  tinclur'd  fluid  rife  ;  fo  tepid  dews 
From  chymic  founts  in  copious  ftreams  diftil. 

Such  is  the  ftvuclure,  fuch  the  wave-worn  face* 
Of  earth's  huge  fabric  !   beauteous  to  the  fight, 
I  And  llor'd  with  wonders,  to  th'  attentive  mind 

*  There  nre^fotne  remai  table  traces  of  the 
great  event  here  treated  of,  in  each  ofthefe  kindi, 
at  IVeli  ombe,  near  Stratford  upon  Avon,  formerly 
a  feat  of  the  Combe  family,  the  nvhotefcene  beat 
ing  thejtrongejl  murks  of  fame  violent  confliU  of 
nature,  and  particularly  of  the  agency  of  'water, 

f  May  not  the  ebbing  and  flowing  ofthefefi, 
to  whatever  cavfe  it  is  owing,  tend  to  ajjift  thi 
operation,  as  the  pulfation  of  the  heart  accelerates 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  animal  bodies  ? 

The  rtader  may  fee  this  hypothejis  <very  ably 
fvpported  by  Mr  Cntcot,  in  his  S-JJay  on  the  De 
luge,  T.d  eitit.  together  luith  many  refpeftable 
names,  ancient  and  modet  n.  by  whom  it  is  pa 
tronised.  The  follewirrg  pojjnge  from  Lucre 
tius  it  quoted  by  him,  as  ivell  exprejjing  their  ge 
neral  meaning, 

"  Partim  quod  fubter  per  terras  diditur'omnes. 

"  Percolatur  eniin  virus,  retroque  remanat 

*'  Materies    humoris,    et   ad    caput    amnibus 

"  omni$ 

*  Converut,undefuper  terras  fluit  agmine  dulci, 
**  Qua   via    fedla  lemel    liquido    pede   detulit 

"  andas." 

t  Trees  of  a  -very  large  Jize,  torn  up  by  the 

oots,  and  othgr  vegetable  and  animal  bodies,  the 

fpoils  of  the  dtljige,  are  found  in  every  part  of 

the  mrtk,  tut  chiefly  in  fens,  or  bogs,  or  among  ft 


Confirming,  with  perfuafive  eloquence 
Drawn  from  the  rocky  mount,  or  wat'ry  fen, 
Thofe  facred  pages,  which  record  the  patt, 
And  awfully  predict  its  future  doom. 

Now,  while  the  fun  its  heav'nly  radiance  fheds 
Acrots  the  vale,  difclofing  all  its  charms, 
Emblem  of  that  fair  light,  at  whofe  approach 
The    Gentile    darknefs  fled !    ye    nymphs,    and 

fwains  '. 

Come  hafte  with  me,  while  now  'tis  early  morn, 
Through  Upton's  *  airy  fields,  19  where  yon'  point 
Projecting  hides  Northampton's  ancient  feat  f 
Retir'd,  and  hid  amidlt  furrounding  fhades : 
Counting  a  length  of  honourable  years, 
And  folid  worth  ;  while  painted  BeVvideres, 
Naked,  aloft,  and  built  but  to  be  feen, 
Sluink  at  the  fun,  and  totter  to  the  wind. 

So  fober  fenfe  oft  Ihuns  the  public  view, 
In  privacy  conceaPd,  while  the  pert  fons 
Of  folly  flutter  in  the  glare  of  day. 

Hence,    o'er   the    plain,    where    ftrip'd   with 

alleys  green,        •«. 

The  golden  harveft  nods,  let  me  yqyr  view 
Progreifi  ve  lead  to  {  Verney's  fitter  walls, 
Alike  in  honour,  as  in  name  allied  '. 
Alike  her  walls  a  noble  matter  own, 
Studious  of  elegance.    At  his  command, 
New  pillars  grace  the  dome  with  Grecian  pomp 
Of  Corinth's  gay  defign.    At  his  command, 
On  hill,  or  plain,  new  culture  clothes  the  fcene 
With  verdant  grafs,  or  variegated  grove ; 
And  bubbling  rills  in  fweeter  notes  difcharge 
Their  liquid  ftores.     Along  the  winding  vale, 
At  his  command,  obfervant  of  the  fhore, 
The  glitt'ring  llream,  with  corrcfpondent  grace. 
Its  ceurfe  purfues,  and  o'er  th'  exulting  wave 
The  ftately  bridge  a  beauteous  form  difplays. 
On  either  fide,  rich  as  th'embroider'd  floor 
From  Perfia's  gaudy  looms,  and  firm  as  fair, 
The    chequer'd  lawns  with   count'nance   blithe 

proclaim 

The  graces,  reign.    Plains,  hills,  and  woods  reply 
The  graces  reign,  and  nature  fmilcs  applaufe. 
Smile  on,  fair  fource  of  beauty,  fource  of  blifs  ! 
To  crown  the  mailer's  coft,  and  deck  her  patk 
Who  lhares  his  joy,  of  gentleft  manners  join'd 
With  manly  fenfe,  train'd  to  the  love  refin'd 
Of  nature's  charms   in  ||    Wroxton's  beauteous 

groves. 

Thy  neighb'ring  villa's  ever  open  gate, 
And  feftive  board,  O  §  Walton  !  next  invite 

peat-earth,  which  is  an  ajjemblage  of  decayed  ve 
getables. 

See  Woodward's  Nat.  Hift.  of  the  earth,  Sec. 

*   Upton,  the  feat  of  Robert  Child,  Efq. 

t  Cotnpton-fVixyate,  a  feat  of  the  Right  Hon. 
the  Earl  of  Northampton,  at  the  foot  of  Edge- 
Hill. 

\  Ctrnpton-Venney,  a  feat  of  the  Right  Hon. 
Lord  fVillottghby  de  Kr^ke. 

||  W^Ktuu  the  feat  of  the  Right  Hon.  the 
Eurl  of  Guildford,  father  of  Lady  Willot  &by  da 
Broke. 

§  Wa.'ton,  the  feat  of  Sir  Charles  Mor  daunt, 
Burt.  many  years  a  Member  of  Parliament  for 
tht  couii  y  uf 


6S4 


THE   WORKS    OF   J  A  G  0, 


The  pleafing  toil.    Unwilling  who  can  pay 
To  thee  the  votive  drain  ?  For  fcience  here, 
And  candour  dwell,  prepar'd  alike  to  cheer 
The  ftranger-gueft,  or  for  the  nation's  weal 
To  pour  the  ftores  mature  of  wifdom  forth, 
In  ftnatorial  councils  often  prov'd, 
And,  by  the  public  voice  attefted  long, 
Long  may  it  be  !  with  well-deferv'd  applaufe. 
And  fee,  beneath  the  lliade  ot  full-grown  elm, 
Or  near  the  border  of  the  winding  brook, 
Skirting  the  graffy  lawn,  her  polifh'd  train 
Walks  forth  to  tafte  the  fragrance  of  the  grove, 
Woodbine,  or  rofe,  or  to  the  upland  fcene 
Of  wildly-planted  hill,  or  trickling  ftrcnni 
Troro,  the  pure  rock,  or  mofs-lin'd  grottos  cool, 
The  naiads'  humid  cell '.  protract  the  way 
With  learned  cotwerfe,  or  ingenuous  fong. 
Thefearch  purfue  to  *  Charlecote's  fair  domain, 
"Where  Avon's  fportive  ftream  delighted  ftrays 
Through  the  gay  fmiling  meads,  and  to  his  bed, 
Hele's  gentle  current  woos.  by  Lucy's  hand 
Jn'ev'ry  graceful  ornament  attrr'd, 
And  worthier,  fuch,  to  (bare  his  liquid  realms ! 
Near,  nor  unmindful  of  th'  increasing  flood, 
Stratford  her  fpacious  magazines  unfolds, 
And  hails  th'  unwieldy  barge  from  weftern  fiiores, 
With  foreign  dainties  fraught,  or  native  ore 
Of  pitchy  hue,  to  pile  the  feueliM  grate 
In  woolly  ftores,  or  hufky  grain  repay 'd. 
To  fpeed  her  wealth,  lo  '.  the  proud   bridge  f  ex 
tends 

His  num'rous  arches,  ftately  monument 
Of  old  munificence,  and  pious  love 
Of  native  foil !  there  Slower  exulting  pays 
His  tributary  ftream,  well  pleas'd  with  wave 
Auxiliary  her  pond'rous  ftores  to  waft ; 
And  boaliing,  as  he  flows,  of  growing  fame, 
And  wond'rous  beauties  on  his  banks  difplay'd— - 
Of  Alfcot's  |  fwelling  lawns,  and  ftetteu  fpires 
Of  fairelt  model,  Gothic,  or  Chinefe — 
Of  Eatington's  jj,  ajid  Token's  §  vfcrdant  meads, 
And  groves  of  various  leaf,  and  Honington  *[[, 
Pvofuie  of  charms,  and  Attic  elegance;    . 
Nor  fails  he  to  relate,  in  jocund  mood, 
?lo\v  liberally  the  matters  of  the  fcene 
I'.iKJtrge  his  current,  and  diredt  his  courfe 
"With  winding  grace— and  how  hiscryflal  wave 
Reflects  ih'  inverted  ipires,  and  pillar'd  domes — 
And  how  the  frifking  deer  j)lay  on  his  (ides, 
ljidl'ring  their  branched  heads,  with  wanton  fport, 
In  his  clear  face.     Pleas'd  with  the  vaunting  tale, 
Isor  jealous  of  his  fame,  Avon  receives 
The  prattling  faeatn,  and,   towards  thy  nobler 

flood, 
Sabrina  fair,  purities  his  length'ning  way. 

Hail,  beauteous  Avon,   hail !    on  whofe   fair 
banks 

*  Charlecote,  the  feat  vf  George  Lvcv,  Efq. 

t  This  bridge  <wai  built  in  the  reign  of  K- 
"Henry  Vll.  at  thefole  coft  and  charge  of  Sir  Hugh 
Clapton.  Knt.  Lord  Mayor  of  the  city  of  London, 
and  a  native  of  this  f  lace. 

t  The  feat  of  James  Weft,  Efq. 

|!   The  feat  of  the  Hon.  George  Shirley,  Efq. 

j  The  feat  of  Sir  Rsary  Patter,  Bart. 

«{  Theftat  ofjofefb  Towiftjtnd,  Efo. 


The  fmiling  daifu's,  and  their  fitter,  tribes. 
Violets,  and  cuckow-buds,  and  lady-fmucks, 
A  brighter  dye  difclofe,   and  proudly  tell 
That  Shakfpeare,  as  he  ftray'd  thefe  meads  along;, 
Their  limple  charms  adinir'd,  and  in  his  verte 
Preferv'd,  in  never-fading  bloom  to  live. 

And   thou,   whoi"e   birth  thefe  walL-  unrival'i 

boaft, 

That  mock'it  the  rules  of  the  proud  Stajrvrite, 
And  leafning's  tedious  toil,  hail  mighty  bard  I 
Thou  great  magician  bail '.   thy  piercing  thought 
Unaided  faw  each  movement  of  the  mind, 
Asfkilful  artifts  view  the  fmall  machine, 
The  fecret  fprings  and  nice  dependencies, 
And  to  thy.  mimic  i'cenes,  by  fancy  wrought 
To. fuch  a  wond'rous  fhape,  th'  impaflion'd  bre-aft 
In  floods  of  grief,  or  peais  of  laughter  bow'd, 
Obedient  to  the  wonder-working  (train,, 
Like  the  tun'd  firing  refponfive  to  the  touch, 
Or  to  the  wizzard's  charm,  the  pallive  ftorrri. 
Humour  and  wit,  the  tragic  pomp,  or  phraie 
Familiar  flow'd,  fpontaneous  from  thy  tongue, 
As  flowers  from  nature's  lap.— Thy  potent  fpells 
From  their  bright  feats  aerial  fprites  detain'd, 
Or  from  their  unfeen  haunts,  and  flumb'ring  fliades 
Awak'd  the  fairy  tribes,  with  jocund  Itep 
The  circled  green,  and  leafy  hall  to  tread  : 
While,  from  his  dripping  caves,  old  Avon  fent 
His  willing  naiads  to  their  harmlefs  rout. 

Alas !  how  languid  is  the  labour'd  fontf, 
The  flow  re'fult  of  rules,  and  toi  tur'd  fenle, 
Compar'd  with  thine  !  thy  animated  thought, 
And  glowing  phrafe  '.  which  art  in  vain  efl'ays. 
And  Schools  can  never  teach.   Yet,  though  deny'd 
Thy  pow'rs,  by  fituation  more  allied, 
I  court  the  genius  of  thy  fportive  mufe 
On  Avon's  bank,  her  facred  haunts  explore, 
And  hear  in  ev'ry  breeze  her  charming  notes. 

Beyond  thefe  flow'ry  meads,  with  daftic  dreams 
Enrich'd,  two  lifter  rills  their  currents  join, 
And  Ikenild  difplays  his  Roman  pride. 
There  Alcefter  *  her  ancient  honour  boafts. 
But  fairer  fame,  and  far  more  happy  lot 
She  boalts,  O  Ragley  f  !   in  thy  courtly  train 
Of  Hertford's  fplendid  line  '.  Jo  !  from  thefe  fliades, 
Ev'n  now  his  fov'reign,  ftwdious  of  her' weal, 
Calls  him  to  bear  his  delegated  rule 
To  Britain's  (ifter  ifle.     Hibernia's  fons 
Applaud  the  choice,  and  hail  him  to  their  fhore 
With  cordial  gratulation.     Him,  well-pleas'd 
With  more  than  filial  rev'rence  to  obey, 
Beauchamp  attends.     What  fon,  but    would  re 
joice 

The  deeds  of  fuch  a  father  to  record  1 
What  father,  but  were  bleft  in  fuch  a  fon  ! 
Nor  may  the  mufe  omit  with  Conway's  J  name 
To  grace  her  fong.     O !  might  it  worthy  flow 

*  So  called  from  its  fituation  on  the  river 
Alenus,  or  Altie,  and  from  its  being  a  Roman 
Jlation  on  the  Ikenild- Street. 

\  Afedt  of  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Hert 
ford. 

\  The  Right  How.  Henry  Seymour  Conway,  Efq. 
one  of  his  Majefifs  principal  fecretaries  of /late, 
and  brother  to  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  oj'Hert* 
ford. 


p  o   E   :,r   s. 


Ofthofe  her  theme  Involves!  The  cyder-land, 
In  Georgic  {trains,  by  her  own  Philips  fun;:, 
bhou'd  boaft  no  brighter  far.is,  .though  proudly 

grac'd 

With  lofticil-titlcd  names — The  Cecil  line, 
Or  Beaufort's,  or,  O  Chandois !  thine,  or  his 
In  Anna's  councils  high,  her  fuv'rite  }i"cr, 
Harley  !  by  me  full  licnour'd  in  his  race. 

See,  how  the  pilhr'd  ifles  and  {lately  dome 
Brighten  the  woodland-fhade!  while  fcatter'd  hill, 
Airy,  and  light,  in  many  a  conic  form, 
A  theatre'compofe,  grotefque  and  wild, 
And,  with  their  fbaggy  fides,  contract  the  vale 
Winding,  in  itrahcn'd  circuit,  round  their  "t>ale. 
Ecneath  their  waving  umbrage  Flora  iprcads 
Her  fpotced  couch,  primrofe,  and  hyacinth 
Profule,  with  ev'ry  fimpler  bud  that  blows 
On  hill  or  dale.     Such  too  thy  flovv'ry  pride 
O  Hevvel  *  !  by  thy  mailer's  lib'ral  hand 
Advanc'd  to  rural  fame  !  Such  Umberfladcf  ! 
In  the  fweet  labour  jyin'd,  with  culture  f  lir, 
And  fplendid  arts,  from  Arden's  f  wcodl.md  {hades 
The  pois'nous  damps,  and  favage  gloom  to  chal'e. 
.    What  happy  lot  attends  your  calm  retreats, 
Ey  no  fci.ni  bound' ry,  nor  obftructing  fence, 
Immur'd,  or  circumlcrib'd  ;  but  fpread  at  large 
In  open  day  ;  fave  what  to  cool  recefs 
Is  cleilin'd  voluntary,  not  conilrain'd 
By  fad  necefiity,  and  dal'ual  ftate 
Of  fickly  peace  !  Such  as  the  moatrd  hall, 
With  cloie  circumference  of  wat'ry  guard, 
And  penlile  bridge  proclaim  !  or,  rear'd  aloft, 
And  maccefiible  the  maHy  tovv'rs, 
And  narrow  circuit  of  embattled  walls, 
Rais'd  on  the  mountain-precipice  i  Such  thine 
O  Beaudeiert  |j  !  old  Montfort's  lofty  feat ! 
Haunt  of  my  youthful  fteps  !  where  I  was  wont 
To  range,  chaunting  my  rude  notes  to  the  wind, 
While  Somerville  difdain'd  not  to  regard 
With  candid  ear,  and  regulate  the  dram.  4 

Such  was  the  gtnius  of  the  Gothic  age, 
And  Norman  policy  !  Such  the  retreats 
Of  Britain's  ancient  nobles!  L-fs  intent 
On  rural  beauty,  and  fweet  patronage 
Of  gentle  arts,  than  ftudious  to  retrain, 
With  fervile  awe,  barbarian  multitudes  ; 
Or,  with  confed'rate  force,  the  regal  pow'r 
Controul.  Hence  proudly  they  th«ir  vaflal  troops 
Affembhng,  now  the  fate  of  empire  plann'd  : 
Now  o'er  dcfencelefs  tribes,  with  wanton  rage, 
Tyrannic  rul'd;  and,  in  their  caftled  hijlls 
Secure,  with  wild  excels  their  revels  kept, 
While  many  a  fturdy  youth,  or  beauteous  maid, 
Sole  folace  of  their  parents'  drooping  age  ! 
Bewail' d  their  wretched  fate,  by  force  ccmpell'd 
To  thefe  abhorr'd  abodes!  'Hence  frequent  §  wars, 
In  ancient  annals  fam'd  !  Hence  haply  feign'd 
Th"  enchanted  caftle,  and  its  curled  train 
Of  giants,  fpectres,  and  magicians  dire  ! 
Hence  gen'rous  minds,  with  indignation  fir'd, 
And  thieat'ning  fierce  revenge,  were  character'd 
By  gallant  knights  on  bold  achievments  bent, 
Subduing  monfters,  and  diffolving  fpclls. 

*    Tie  feat  of  the  Right  Hon.  tb:  Earl  of  Plymouth. 
f   The  feat  of  the  Right  Hon.  Lord  Archer . 
I   TbefoftJifOr  woodland  part  of  Warivitkfbire* 
\\   So  called,  from  its  p'.eafant  rural  foliation, 
Called  the  Barer.!  i-.'an^ 


Thu?,  from  the  rural  landfcape,  learn  to  know 
The  various  charadters  of  time  and  place. 
To  haii,  from  open  fcenes,  and  cUltur'd  fields, 
Fair  liberty,  and  freedom's  gen'rous  reign, 
With  guardian  laws,  and  polifh'd  arts  adorn'd. 
While  the  portcullis  huge,  or  moated  fence 
The  fad  revcrfe  of  favage  times  betray— 
Diftruft,  barbarity,  and  Gothic  rule. 

Would   ye,  with  faultleis  judgment,  learn  to 

plan 

The  rural  ieat  ?  To  copy,  as  ye  rove, 
The  well-form'd  pie-lure,  and  correct  defign? 
Firft  iliun  the  falfe  extremes  of  high  and  low. 
With  wat'ry  vapours  this  your  fretted  walls 
Will  foon  deface  ;  and  that,  with  rough  affault, 
And  frequent  tempeils,  fhake  your  tott'ring  roof. 
Me  moft  the  gentle  eminence  delights 
Oi  healthy  champaign,  to  the  funny  fovsfh 
Fair  op'nlng,  and  with  woods,  and  circling  hills, 
Nor  too  remote,  nor,  with  too  clofe  embrace, 
Stopping  the  buxom  air,  behind  enclos'd. 
But  if  your  lot  hath  fall'n  in  fields  lefs  fair, 
Confult  their  genius,  and,  with  due  regard 
To  nature's  clear  directions,  fhape  your  plan. 
The  fite  too  lofty  iheltei',  and  the  low 
With  funny  lawns  and  open  areas  cheer. 
The  marifh  drain,  and,  with  capacious  urns, 
And  well-conducted  tlreams,  refrefh  the  dry. 
So  fhatl  your  lawns  with  healthful  verdure  fmilq, 
While  others,  iick'ning  at  the  fultry  blaze, 
A  ruffet  wild  difplay,  or  the  rank  blade, 
And  matted  tufts  the  carelefs  owner  fhame. 
Seek  nor,  v.'ith  fruhlefs  coft,  the  level  plain 
To  raife  aloft,  nor  fink  the  rifing  hill. 
Each  has  its  charms,  though  diff'rent  ;  each  in 

kind 

Improve,  not  alter.    Art  with  art  conceal. 
Let  no  ftrait  terrac'd  lines  your  flopes  deform  ; 
No  barb'rous  walls  reftrain  the  bounded  fight; 
But  to  the  aidant  fields  the  clofer  fccne 
Connect.    The  fpacious  lawn  with  fcatter'd  trees 
Irregular,  in  beauteous  negligence, 
Clothe  bountiful.    Your  unimprifon'd  eye, 
With  pleafing  freedom,  through  the  lofty  maze 
.Shall  rove,  and  find  no  dull  fatiety. 
The  fportive  ft  ream  with  ftiffen'd  line  avoid 
To  torture,  nor  prefer  the  long  canal 
Or  labour'd  fount  to  nature's  eafy  flow. 
Your  winding  paths,  now  to  the  funny  *  gleam 
Directed,  now  with  high  embow'ring  trees 
Or  fragrant  fhrubs  conceal'd,  with  frequent  feat 
And  rural  ftrr.cture  deck.    Their  pleafing  form 
To  fancy's  eye  luggelis  inhabitants 
Of  more  than  mortal  make,  and  their  cool  fhade3 
And  friendly  fhelter  to  refrefhment  f-.vect, 
And  wholefome  meditation,  fhall  invite. 
To  ev'ry  ftruclure  give  its  proper  fite. 
Ner,  on  the  dreary  heath,  the  gay  alcove, 
Nor  the  lone  hermit's  cell,  or  mournful  urn 
Build  on  the  fprightly  lawn.    The  grafly  flope 
And  fhelter'd  border  for  the  cool  arcade 
Or  Tufcan  porch  referve.   To  the  chafle  dome 
And  fair  rotunda  give  the  fwelling  mount 
Of  frelheft  green.    If  to  the  Gothic  fccne 
Your  tafte  incline,  in  the  weli-water'd  vale, 
With  lofty  pines  embrown'd,  the  mimic  fane 

*  "  Hsec  £^mat  obfcuruni,  volet  hate  fub  lace 


THE   WORKS   OF  JAGO. 


And  mouM'ring  abbey's  fretted  windows  place. 
The  craggy  rock,  or  precipitioushill, 
Shall  well  become  the  caftle's  ma  fly  walls. 
In  royal  villas  the  Palla.dian  arch 
And  Grecian  portico  with  dignity 
Their  pride  difplay  :  ill  fuits  their  lofty  rank 
The  fimpler  -fcene.    If  chance  hiiloric  deeds 
Your  fields  diftinguifh,  count  th^m  doubly  fair, 
And  ftudious  aid,  with  monumental  ftone, 
And  faithful  comment,  fancy's  fond  review. 

Now  other  hills,  with  other  wonders  flor'd, 
Invite  the  featch.    In  vain  !  unltfs  the  mufe 
The  landfcape  order.    Nor  will  fhe  decline 
The  pleafing  tafk.    For  not  to  her  'tis  hard 
To  foar  above  the  mountain's  airy  height, 
With  tow'ring  pinions,  or,  with  gentler  wing, 
T*  explore  the  cool  receffcs  of  the  vale. 
Her  piercing  eye  extends  beyond  the  reach 
Of  optic  tube,  levell'd  by  midnight  fage, 
At  the  moon's  difk,  or  other  diftant  fun, 
And  planetary  worlds  beyond  the  orb 
Of  Saturn.    Nor  can  intervening  rocks 
Impede  her  fearch.    Alike  the  fylvan  gloom 
Or  earth's  profoundeft  caverns  fhe  pervades, 
And  to  her  fav'rite  fon*  makes  vifible 
All  that  may  grace  or  dignify  the  fong, 
Howe'er  envelop'd  from  their  mortal  ken. 

So  Uriel,  winged  regent  of  the  fun  !       ' 
Upon  its  evening  beam  to  Paradife 
Came  gliding  down  ;  fo,  on  its  floping  ray, 
To  his  bright  charge  return'd.     So  th'  heav'nly 

gueft 

From  Adam's  eyes  the  carnal  film  remov'd, 
On  Eden's  hill,  and  purg'd  his  vifual  nerve 
To  f  e  things  yet  unform'd,  and  future  deeds. 

Lo!  where  the  fouthern  hill  with  winding  courfe 
Bends  tow'rd  the  weft,  and  from  his  airy  feat 
Views  four  fair  provinces  in  union  join'd; 
Bencaih  his  feet,  confpicuous  rais'd,  and  rude, 
A  maffy  pillar  rears  its  fhapelefs  head. 
Others  in  ftature  lefs,  an  area  fmooth 
Enclofe,  like  that  on  *  Sarum's  ancient  plain. 
And  1'ome  of  middle  rank  apart  are  fetn: 
Diftinguifh'd  thofe  by  courtly  character 
Of  knights,  while  that  the  regal  f  title  bears. 
What  now  the  circle  drear,  and  ftiffen'd  mafs 
Compofe,  like  us  were  animated  forms, 
With  vital  warmth,  ar.d  fenfe,and  thought  cndu'd; 
A  band  of  warriors  brave  !  Effect  accurs'd 
Of  necromantic  art  and  fpells  impure. 

So  vulgar  fame.    But  clerks,  in  antique  lore 
Profoundly  fkili'd,  far  other  ftory  tell; 
And,  in  its  myftic  form  temple  or  court 
Efpy,  to  fabled  gods  «r  throned  kings 
Devote  ;  or  fabric  monumental,  rais'd 
By  Saxon  hands,  or  by  that  Danifh  chief 
Rolloi  !  the  builder  in-the  name  imply'd. 

Yet  to  the  weft  the  plcafing  fearch  purfue, 
Where  from  the  vale  Brails  lifts  his  fcarry  fides, 
And  lllmingtot),  and  Campden's  hoary  hills, 
(By  Lyttleton's  fwcet  plaint,  and  thy  abode 
His  matchlefs  Lucia  !  to  the  mufe  endear'd) 
Imprefs  new  grandeur  on  the  fpreading  fcene, 
With  champaign  fields,  broad  plain,  and  covert 
vale 


Sttnr-bengr. 

Called  the  King's-fcne, 

Called  R9ll-ritb-Sttnu. 


liiverfify'd  :  By  Ceres  fome  adornM 

With  rich  luxuriance  of  golden  grain, 

And  fome  in  Flora's  liv'ry  gaily  dight, 

And  fome  with  fylvan  honours  graceful  crowtf  d. 

Witnefs  the  foreft  glades,  with  ftately  pride, 

Surrounding  Sheldon's  *  venerable  dome  ! 

Witnefs  the  floping  lawns  of  idlicot  f  ! 

And  Honington's  irriguous  meads !    Some  wind 

Mcand''ring  round  the  hills  disjoin'd,  remote, 

Giving  full  licence  to  their  fportive  range; 

While  diftant,  but  diftindr.,  his  Alpine  ridge 

Malvern  ere&s  o'er  Efham's  vale  fublime, 

And  boldly  terminates  the  finifh'd  fcene. 

Still  are  the  praifes  of  the  Red-Horfe  Vale 
Unfung ;  as  oft  it  happens  to  the  mind 
Intent  on  diftant  themes,  while  what's  more  near, 
And  nearer,  more  important,  'fcapes  its  note. 

From  yonder  far-known  hill,  where  the  thin  turf 
But  ill  conceals  the  ruddy  glebe,  a  form 
On  the  bare  foil  ponrtray'd,  like  that  fam'd  fteed 
Which  in  its  womb  the  fate  of  Troy  conceal' d, 
O'erlooks  the  vale. — Ye  fwains,  that  wifh  to  learn 
Whence  role  the  ftrange  phenomenon,  attend  ! 

Britannia's  Ions,  thoi  gh  now  for  arts  renown'd, 
A  race  of  anceftors  untaught,  and  rude, 
Acknowledge,  like  thofe  naked  Indian  tribes, 
Which  firft  Columbus  in  the  Atlantic  ifles 
With  wonder  faw.    Alike  their  early  fate 
To  yield  ^o  conquering  arm%  !  Imperial  Rome 
Was  then  to  them  what  Britain  is  to  thefe, 
And  through  the  fubjecl-land  her  trophies  rear'd. 

But  haughty  Rome,  her  ancient  manners  flown, 
Stoop'd  to  barbaric  rage.    O'er  her  proud  walls 
The  Goths  prevail,  which  erft  the  Punic  bands 
Aflail'd  in  vain,  though  Cannae's  bloody  field 
Their  valour  own'd,  and  Hannibal  their  guide ! 
Such  is  the  fate,  which  mightieft  empires  prove, 
Unlcfti  the  virtues  of  the  fon  prcfcrve 
What  his  forefather's  ruder  courage  won  ! 
\     \  No  Cato  now  the  lisVning  lenate  warm'd 
To  love  of  virtuous  deeds,  and  public  weal. 
No  Scipios  led  her  hardy  fons  to  war, 
With  fenfe  of  glory  fir'd.   Through  all  h  r  realms 
Or  hoftile  arms  invade,  or  factions  fhake 
Her  tott'ring  ftate.    From  her  proud  capitol 
Her  tutelary  geds  retire,  and  Rome, 
imperial  Rome,  once  miftrefs  of  the  world, 
A  viclim  falls,  fo,  righteous  Heav'n  ordains, 
To  pride  and  luxury's  all-conquering  charms. 

Meantime  her  ancient  foes,  erewhile  reftrain'd 
By  Roman  arms,  from  Caledonia's  hills 
Rufh  like  a  torrent,  with  refiillefs  force, 
O'er  Britain's  fencelefs  bounds,  and  through  her 

fields 

Pour  the  full  tide  of  defolating  war.- ' 
JEtius,  thrice  conful !  now  an  empty  name, 
In  vain  htr  fons  invoke.    In  vain  they  feek 
Relief  in  fervitude.    Ev'n  fervitude 
Its  miferable  comforts  now  denies; 
From  fhore  to  fhore  they  fly.    The  briny  flood, 

*   JVtJlon,  the  feat  of  William  Sheldon,  Efq. 
•)•   The  feat  of  tie  lute  Baron  Lrgge,  noiu  belonging 
to  Robert  Ladbroke,  EJy. 

$  "  Non  his  juventus  orta  parentibus 
"  Inftcit  aequor  fangwine  Punico, 
"  Pyrrhumque,  et  ingentem  cecidit 
"  Antilochwxi,  Hannibalemque  dirum." 

Ho*. 


POEMS. 


6,7 


A  guardian  once,  thfir  further  flight  retrains. 
Some  court  the  boiil'rous  deep,  a  milder  foe ; 
Some  gain  the  diftant  fliores,  and  fondly  hope 
In  each  to  find  a  more  indulgent  home. 
The  reft,  protracting  ftill  a  wretched  life, 
From  Belgia's  coafl  in  wild  defpair  invite 
Its  new  inhabitants,  a  Saxon  race, 
On  enterprife  and  martial  conqueft  bent. 
"With  joy  the  Saxons  to  their  aid  repair, 
And  foon  revenge  them  on  their  northern  foes. 
Revenge  too  dearly  bought !  Thefe  courted  guefts 
Give  them  fhort  fpace.for  joy.    A  hoftile  look 
On  their  fair  fields  they  caft  (for  feeble  hands 
Alas  !  too  fair),  and  i'eize  them  for  their  own. 
And  now  again  the  conquer'd  ifle  afTumes 
Another  form  ;  on  ev'ry  plain  and  hill 
New  marks  exhibiting  of  fervile  ftate, 
The  maffy  ftone  with  figures  quaint  infcrib'd— 
Or  dyke  by  *  Woden,  or  the  Mercian  king  f , 
Vaft  bound'ry  made — or  thine,  O  Aihbury  f  ! 
And  Tyfoe's  ||  wond'rous  theme,  the  martial  horfe, 
Carv'd  on  the  yielding  turf,  armorial  fign 
Of  Hengift,  Saxon  chief !  of  Erunlwick  now, 
And  with  the  Britifh  lion  join'd,  the  bird 
Of  Rome  furpafling.    Studious  to  preferve 
The  fav'rite  form,  the  treach'rous  conquerors 
Their  vaflal  tribes  compel,  with  fcftive  rites, 
Its  fading  figure  yearly  to  renexv, 
And  to  the  neighb'ncg  §  vale  impart  its  name. 

BOOK.  II. 

NOON. 

ARGUMENT. 

JtfooN.  The  mid  fcene  from  the  caftle  on  Ratley- 
Hill.  More  particular  account  of  the  feveral 
parts  of  this  fcene,  and  of  whatever  is  moft  re 
markable  in  it.  Warwick  Its  antiquity.  Hif- 
torical  account  of  the  Earls  of  Warwick.  Story 
of  Guy.  Gny's-Cliffe.  Kenelworth.  4ts  caftle. 
Hiftory  of  it.  Balfal.  WroxaL  Coventry.  Its 
environs.  Manufactures.  Story  of  Godiva.  Pe 
roration. 

THE  fun,  whofe  eaftern  ray  had  fcarcely  gilt 
The  mountain's  brow,  while  up  the  deep  afcent 
With  early  ftep  we  climb'd,  now  wide  difplays 
His  radiant  orb,  and  half  his  daily  ftage 
Hath  nearly  meafur'd.    From  th'  iilumin'd  vale 
The  foaring  mifts  are  drain'd,  and  o'er  the  hill 
No  more  breathes  grateful  the  cool  balmy  air, 
Cheering  our  fearch,  and  urging  on  o,ur  fteps 
Delightful.    See,  the  languid  herds  forfake 
The  burning  mead,  and  creep  beneath  the  fhade 
Of  fpreading  tree,  or  (helt'ring  hedge-row  tall : 
Or,  in  the  mantling  pool,  rude  refervoir 

*  Wanfrlyke,  or  Wodenfdykc,  a  boundary  of  tbe  ting- 
dam  of  the  Weft  Saxons,  in  Wilt/hire. 

•f-  Offiz,  from  tvbom  tbe  boundary  bet-ween  tbe  king 
dom  of  tbe  Mercians  and  tbe  Britons  in  Wales,  took 
its  name* 

\  AJbbury,  in  Berkjbire,  near  -which  is  tbe  figure 
of  a  bcrft  cut  on  the  ftde  of  a  bill,  in  tvhitijb  earth, 
•which  gives  name  to  tbt  neighbouring  valley.  f 

fl  The  figure  of  tbe  red  borfe  bere  defcribed  is  in  tbe 
farijb  of  Tyfof. 

§  Callc4,from  tlis  figure,  tie  Vale  ofRed-Horfe. 


Of  wint'ry  rains,  and  the  flow  thrifty  fpring, 
Cool  their  parch'd  limbs,  and  kve  their  panting 
fides. 

Let  us  too  feek  the  fnade.    Yon  airy  dome, 
Beneath  whofe  lofty  battlements  we  found 
A  covert  paflage  to  theic  fultry  realms, 
Invites  our  drooping  fttength,  and  well  befriendi 
The  pleafing  comment  on  fair  nature's  book, 
In  lumptuous  volume,  open'd  to  our  view. 

Ye  fportive  nymphs,  that  o'er  the  rural  fcene 
Prefide;  you  chief,  that  haunt  the  ilow'ry  banks 
Of  Avon,  where,  with  more  majeftic  wave, 
Warwick's  illuftrious  lord  through  the  gay  meads 
H  .<>  dancing  current  guides,  or  round  the  lawn 
iJireiits  th'  embroidcr'd  verge  of  various  dyes, 
O  !  teach  me  all  its  graces  to  unfold, 
And  with  your  praife  join  his  attendant  fame. 

'Tis  well !  Here  ihelter'd  from  the  fcorchuig 

heat, 

At  large  we  view  the  fubjed  vale  fublime 
And  unimpeded.    Hence  its  limits  trace 
Stretching,  in  wanton  bound'ry,  from  the  foot 
Of  this  green  mountain,  far  as  human  ken 
Can  reach,  a  theatre  immenfe !  adorn'd 
With  ornaments  of  fweet  variety, 
By  nature's  pencil  drawn — the  level  meads, 
A  verdant  floor !  with  brighteft  gems  inlaid, 
And  richly-painted  flow'rs — the  tillag'd  plain, 
Wide-waving  to  the  fun  a  rival  blaze 
Of  gold,  beft  fource  of  wealth ! — the  prouder  hills, 
With  outline  fair,  in  naked  pomp  difplay'd, 
Round,  angular,  oblong;  and  others  crown 'd 
With  graceful  foliage.    Over  all  her  horn 
F;iir  plenty  pours,  -and  cultivation  fpreads 
Her  height'ning  luftre.    See,  beneath  her  touch 
The  fmiling  harvefts  rife,  with  bending  line, 
And  wavy  ridge,  along  the  dappled  glebe 
Stretching   their  lengthen'd  beds.     Her  carcfol 

hand 

Piles  up  the  yellow  grain,  or  ruftling  hay 
Aduft  for  wint'ry  ftore — the  long-ridg'd  mow, 
Or  fhapely  pyramid,  with  conic  roof, 
Dreffiog  the  landfcape.    She  the  thick-wove  fencs 
Nurfcs,  and  adds  with  care  the  hedge-row  elm. 
Atound  her  farms  and  villages  fhe  plans 
The  rural  garden,  yielding  wholefome  food 
Of  fimple.viands,  and  the  fragrant  herb 
Medicinal.    The  well-rang'd  orchard  now 
She  orders,  or  the  fhelt'ring  clump,  or  tuft 
Of  hardy  trees,  the  wint'ry  ftorms  to  curb, 
Or  guard  the  fweet  retreat  of  village  fwain, 
With  health  and  plenty  crown'd.     Fair  fciencc 

next, 

Her  offspring,  adds  towns,  cities,  vaulted  domes, 
And  fplendid  palaces,  and  chafes  large, 
With  lake  and  planted  grove.,   Hence  Warwick, 

fair 

With  rifing  buildings,  Coventry's  tall  fpires, 
And  Kenelworth!  thy  ftately  caftle  rote, 
Which  ftill  in  ruin  charms  th'  aftonifli'd  fight. 
To  crown  the  beauteous  fcene,  the  curtain'd  fey, 
Its  canopy  divine  of  azure  tint, 
Spreads  heav'nly  fair,  and  foftens  ev'ry  charm. 

Now  yet  again,  with  accurate  furvey, 
The  level  plain,  hills  rifing  various,  woods, 
And  meadows  green,  the  fimple  cot,  and  towns, 
Nurs'ries  of  arts,  and  commerce  !   Warwick,  fair 
With  riling  buildings,  Coventry's  tall  fpire?., 


6SS 


THE   WORKS    OF  JAGO. 


Magnificent  in  ruin  Kenelworth  ! 

Andftill  morediftant  fcenes,  with  legends  firange, 

And  fmoky  arts,  taught  in  the  dufky  fchools 

Of  Tubal's  fons,  attentive  let  us  (can,    ' 

And  all  their  charms  and  nlyileries  explore. 

Firfl  view,  but  cautions,  the  raft  precipice  ; 
Left,  (larded  at  the  giddy  height,  thy  fenfe 
Swimming  forfake  thee,  and  thy  trembling  limbs, 
Unnerv'xl1  and  fault' ring,  threaten  dang'rous  lapfe. 
Along  th'  indented  bank,  the  foreft  tribes, 
The  thin-leav'd  afli,  d^rk  oak,  and  gloffy  beech, 
Of  polifh'd  rind,  th:'ir  branching  boughs  extend, 
With  blended  tints,  and  amicable  ftrife, 
Forming  a  checker' d  fhade.    Below,  the  lawn?, 
With  fpacious  fweep,  and  wild  declivity, 
To  yellow  plains  their  doping  verdure  join. 

There,  white  with  flocks,  and,  in  her  num'rous 

herds 

Exulting,  Cha4funt's  *  paftures,  large  and  fair, 
Salute  the  fighf,  and  witnefs  to  the  fame 
Of  Lichfield's  mitred  faint  f .   The  furzy  heaths 
Succeed-,  clofe  refuge  of  the  tim'rous  hare, 
Or  prowling  fox,  but  refuge  infecure  ! 
From  their  dark  covert  oft  the  hunter  train 
Route  them  unwilling,  and  o'er  hill  and  dale 
With  wild  tumultuous  joy  their  fteps  purfue. 
Juft  vengeance  on  the  midnight  thief!  and  life 
With  life  aton'd  !  But  that  poor,  trembling  wretch ! 
"  Wko  doubts  if  now  She  lives,"  what  hath  (he 

done ; 

Guiltlefs  of  blood,  and  impotent  of  wrong  ? 
How  num'rous,  how  infatiate  yet  her  foes  1 
Ev'n  in  thefe  thickets,  where  (he, vainly  fought 
A  fafe  retreat  from  man's  unfeeling  race, 
The  bufy  hound,  to  blood  and  (laughter  train'd, 
Snuffs  her  fweet  vapour,  and  to  murd'rous  rage, 
By  madd'ning  founds  impell'.d,  in  her  clofe  feat 
With  fury  tears  her,  and  her  corfc  devours ; 
Or  fcaresher  o'er  the  fields,  and  by  the  (cent, 
With  keen  defire  of  reeking  gore  inflam'd, 
Loud-bellowing  tortures  her  with  dreadful  cries. 
Nor  more  fecure  her  path  !   Man  even  there, 
Watching  with  foul  intent  her  fecret  haunts, 
Plants  inftruments  of  death,  and  round  her  neck 
The  fatal  fnare  entwines.  Thus  innocence, 
Jn  human  things,  by  wily  fraud  enfnar'd, 
Ofthelplefs  falls,  while  the  bold  plund'rer  'fcapes. 
Next  the  wide  champaign,  and  the  cheerful  downs 
Claim  notice ;  chiefly  thine,  O  Chefterton  i  ! 
Pre-eminent.  Nor  'fcape  the  roving  eye 
Thy  folemu  wood,  and  Roman  veftiges, 
Encampment  green,  or  military  road  ! 
Amufivc  to  the  grave,  hiftoric  mill  J. 
Thee  ||  Tachbroke  joins  with  venerable  fhade. 
Nor  diftant  far,  in  Saxon  annals  fam'd, 
The  rural  court  §  of  Offa,  Mercian  king ! 
Where,  fever'd  from  its  trunk,  low  lies  the  head 
Of  brave  Fermundus,  (lain  by  coward  hands, 
As  on  the  turf  fupine  in  deep  he  lay, 
Nor  wift  it  deep  from  which  to  wake  no  more ! 

*  The  feat  nf  Barnes  Neivfam  Craws,  Efq. 

t  St.  Cladd. 

\  A  feat  of  the  Riglt  Honourable  Lord  Wilhugkly 
dc  Broke,  fo  called  from  its  Lciiia-  a  Roman  Ration  on  the 
fofs-Way. 

j|    4  feat  of  Sir  Waited  Bagot,  Bart. 

§  0/cburcb,  the  feat  of  Wbii-juk  Kmglt^M,  Eft, 


ftiir 


Now  Warwick  claims  the  fong;  fupremeiy  fti 
In  this  fair  realm;  confpicuous  rais'd  to  view 
On  the  firm  rock,  a  beauteous  eminence, 
For  heulth,  and  pleaftire  forni'd.  Full  to  the  fouth 
A  (lately  range  of  high,  embattled  walls 
And  lofty  tow'rs,  and  precipices  vail, 
*  Its  guardian  worth,  and  ancient  pomp  co'nfefs. 
t  The  northern  hills,  where  fuperftition  long 
Her  gloomy  rites  maintain'd,  a  tranquil  fcene 
Of  gentler  arts,  and  pleafures  more  reiin'd 
Difplay?.  Lawns,  parks,  and  meadows  fair, 
And  groves  around  their  mingled  graces  join, 
And  Avon  pours  his  tributary  dream. 

\  On  thee- contending  kings  their  bounty  pour'd, 
And  cali'd  the  favour'd  city  by  their  names. 
U  Thy  worth  the  Romans  publifti'd,  when  to  thee 
Their  legions  they  confign'd.  Thee  Ethelflede  §, 
Thy  guardian  fair!  with  royal  grace  reftor'd, 
When  pagan  foes  had  raz'd  thy  goodly  ftreets. 
A  monarch's  care,  thofe  walls  \  to  learning  rais'dy 
**  Thefe  an  afybjm  to  declining  age 
A  Leicefher's  love  proclaim    Nor  pafs  unfung     - 
The  train  of  gallant  chiefs,  by  thy  lov'd  name 
Diftinguifh'd,  and  by  deeds  of  high  renown 
Gracing  the  lofty  title,   ff  Arthgal  firft, 
And  brave  Morvidus,  fam'd  in  druid  fong, 
And  Britifh  annals.  Fair  Felicia's  fire, 
Rohand  !  and  with  her  join'd  in  wedded  love, 
Immortal  Guy  !  who  near  Wintonia's  walls 
With  that  gigantic  braggard  Colcbrand  hight ! 
For  a  long  fummer's  day  fole  fight  maintain'd. 
But  huge  gigantic  fi/e,  and  braggart  oaths, 
And  fword,  or  maffy  club  difmay'd  thee  not. 
Thy  (kill  the  ftroke  eluded,  or  thy  (hield 
Harmlefsreceiv'd,  while  on  his  battcr'd  Cdes 
Fell  thick  thy  galling  blows,  till  from  his  hands  * 
Down  dropp'd  the  pond'rous  weapon,  an'd  himfelf 
Proftrate,  to  thy  keen  blade  his  grifly  head 
Reluctant  yielded.  Lamentations  loud, 
And  fhoujs  victorious,  in  ftrange  concert  join,'d, 
Proclaim  the  champion's  fall.  Thee  Athelflan 
His  great  deliverer  owns,  and  meditates 
With  honours  fair,  and  fefHve  pomp  to  crown. 
But  other  meed  thy  thoughtful  mind  employ'd,  . 
Intent  in  hear'nly  (olitude  to  fpend 
The  precious  eve  of  life.  Yet  (hall  the  mufe 
Thy  deed  record,  and  on  her  patriot  lift 
Enrol  thy  name,  though  many  a  Saxon  chief 
She  leaves  unfung.   A  Norman  race  fucceeds, 
To  thee,  fair  town  \\  \  by  charitable  deeds, 
And  pious  gifts  endear'd.  The  Beauchamps  too    ; 
Thou  claim'ft,forarrns  and  courtly  manners  fam'd! 

*   Tie  Csfle. 

f    The  Priory,  noiv  the  feat  of  Henry  Wife,  Efq. 

\  Called  Caer-Leon  from  Gittb-Leon,  alfo  Caer- 
Gwayr,  or  Guaric,from  Gwar,  tivo  Britijb  Lings.  Its 
frrftitt  name  is  faid  to  lie  taken  frem  Warremund^  a 
Saxon.  • 

P  It  ivas  the  Prajidium  oftbc-  Romans  , 

§   Slit  relntilt  it  -when  it  SiadiieendcJlroyedbytLc  Daatf. 

^f    The  Free-School. 

**   The   Hoffital. 

f  f  Tlefrjl  Earl  of  IVariuick,  and  one  of  the  knlgltf 
of  King  Arthur's  round  table. 

\\-Heary  de  Nova  Burgs,  the  firjl  Norman  Earl, 
founded  the  priory  at  War-wick-,  and  Roger  his  fan  built 
and  endctccdtbe  churcl  of  St.  Afary. 


"P    O    EM    S. 


*  Hirochief,  whom  three  imperial  Henry  scrowu'd 
With  envied  honours.  Mirror  fair  wa>  lie 
Of  valour,  and  of  knightly  feats  achieved 
In  tilt  and  tournament.   Thee  f  Nevil  boafls 
For  bold  exploits  renown'd,  with  civil  flrife 
When    Britain's   bleeding    realm    her    weaknefs 

mouru'd, 

And  half  h<r  nobles  in  the  conteft  flain 
Of  York  and  Lancafter.  He,  fworn  to  both, 
As  int'reft  tempted,  or  refentmcnt  fir'd, 
To  Henry  now,  and  now  to  Edward  join'd, 
His  pow'rful  aid ;  now  both  to  empire  rais'd, 
Now  from  their  fummit  pluck'd,  till  in  the  ftrife 
By  Edward's  conquering  arms  at  length  he  fell. 
Thou,  f  Clarence,  next,  and  next  thy  haplefs  fon, 
The  laft  §  Plantagenet  awhile  appears 
To  dignify  the  lift ;  both  facrific'd 
To  barb'rous  policy !  Proud  |j  Dudley  now 
From  Edward's  hand  the  bright  diftinetion  bore, 
But  foon  to  Mary  paid  his  forfeit  head, 
And  in  his  fate  a  wretched  race  involv'd  : 
Thee  chief,  thee  wept  by  ev'ry  gentle  mufe, 
Fair  *  Jane  !  untimely  doom'd  toblcody  death, 
For  treafon  not  thy  own.    I'o  *  *  Rich's  line 
\Vas  then  transferr'd  th'  illuftriou'sname,  to  thine 
O  ff  Greville !  laft.  Late  may  it  there  remain  ! 
With  promife  fair,  as  now,  (more  fair  what  heart 
Parental  craves)  ?  of  long,  tranfrniffive  worth, 
Proud  Warwick's  name,  with  growing  fame  to 

grace, 
And  crown,  with  lafling  joy,  hur  caftled  hill. 

Hail,  (lately  pile  ;  fit  manfion  for  the  great ! 
Worthy  the  lofty  title;  Worthy  him  it, 
To  Beauchamp's  gallant  race  allied !  the  friend    . 
Of  gentle  Sidney  !  to  whofe  long  defert, 
|n  royal  councils  prov'd,  his  fov'reign's  gift 

*  Richard  Earl  of  IVarivrcl,  In  ibe  rdgns  of  King 
Henry  IV.  V.  and  VI.  was  Gov.rnor  of  Calais,  and 
Lieutenant-General  of  France.  He  founded  the  Lady's 
Chapel,  and  llet  interred  there  under  a  very  magnificent 
monument. 

f  Called  Make-King.  He  was  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Bar  net. 

\  He  married  the  Earl  of  Warwick;  daughter,  and 
•was  put  to  death  by  bis  brother  Eilwtrrd  IV. 

§  Beheaded  in  the  Totter  by  Henry  VII.  under  a 
pretence  of  favouring  the  efcape  of  Peter  Warheck. 

||  Made  Earl  of  Warwick  by  Edward  VI.  andaf- 
terivards  Duke  vf  Northumberland 

^f  Lady  Jane  Grey,  married  to  a  fon  cf  the  Earl  of 
Warwick. 

**  Robert  Lord  Rich,  created  Earl  of  Warwick  by 
James  I. 

•j~f  Grevi'le  Lord  Brook,  ftrjl  created  Earl  1'rook  of 
Warwick  Cajlle,  and  afterwards  Earl  of  Warwick, 
by  King  George  II. 

\\  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  made  Baron  Brook  of  Beau- 
champ*  s-court  by  "James  I.,  hadtbt  Cajlle  of  Warwick, 
then  in  a  ruinous  condition,  granted to  Lint;  upon  "which 
be  laid  out  2Q,OOO/.  He  lies  buried  in  a  neat  ofiagon 
building,  on  the  north  fide  of  the  clancel  at  Warwick, 
under  a  fine  marble  monument,  on  which  it  tht following 
•veryftgnificant,  laconic  infcription  : 

"  TROPHOEVM  PECCATf! 
"   Fulle   Greville,  Servant  t»  Qitcen  Elizabeth,  Coun- 
"  fellor  to  King  James,  and  friend  to  Sir  Philifc  Sid- 
"  ncjy." 

VOL.  XI. 


Confign'd  the  lofty  ftrudture :  Worthy  he ! 
The  lofty  ftrudhire's  fplendour  to  reftore. 

Nor  lefs  intent,  who  now  by  lineal  rie;ht, 
His  place  fuftair.s,  with  reparations  bold, 
And  well-attemper'd  dignity  to  grace 
Th'  embattled  walls.     Nor  fpareS  his    gen'rous 

mind 

The  coft  of  rural  work,  plantation  large, 
Foreft,  cr  fragrant  fhrub ;  or  fhelter'd  walks, 
Or  ample  verdant  lawns,  where  the  fleek  deer 
Sport  on  the  brink  of  Avon's  flood,  or  graze 
Beneath  the  rifing  walls;  magnificence 
With  grace  uniting,  and  enlarg'd  delight 
Of  profpeft  fair,  and  nature's  fmiling  1'cenes! 

Still  is  the  colouring  faint.  O  !  could  my  verfe, 
I. ike  their  *  LouiCa's  pencil'd  (hades  defcribe 
The  tow'rs,  the  woods,  the  lawns,  the  winding 

ftream, 

Fair  like  her  form,  and  like  her  birth  fublime  ! 
Not  Wind/nr's  royal  fcenes  by  Denham  fung, 
Or  that  more  tuneful  bard  on  Twick'nam's  more 
Should  boaft  a  loftier  drain,  but  in  my  verfe 
Their  fame  fhould  live,  as  lives  proportion'd  true, 
Their  beauteous  image  in  her  graven  lines. 

Tranfporting  theme  !  on  which  I  ftill  could  walls 
The  ling'ring  hours,  and  ftill  protract  the  long 
With  new  delight:  but  thy  example,  Guy! 
Calls  me  from  fcenes  of  pomp  and  earthly  pride, 
To  mufe  with  thee  in  thy  fequrfter'd  cell-}-. 

Here  the  calm  fcene  lulls  the  tumultuous  breaft 
To  fweet  compofure.  Here  the  gliding  dream, 
That  winds  its  wafry  path  in  many  a  maze, 
As  loth  to  leave  th'  enchanted  (pot,  invites 
To  moralize  on  fleeting  time,  and  life, 
With  all  its  treach'rous  fweets  and  fading  joys, 
In  emblem  fhown,  by  many  a  fhort-hv'd  flow'r. 
That  on  its  margin  (miles,  and  fmiling  falls 
To  join  its  parent  earth.     Here  let  me  delve, 
Near  thine,  my  chamber  in  the  peaceful  rock, 
And  think  no  more  of  gilded  palaces, 
And  luxury  of  fenfe.  From  the  till'd  glebe, 
Or  ever-teeming  brook,  my  frugal  meal. 
I'll  gain,  and  flake  my  third  at  yonder  fpring1. 
Like  thee,  I'll  climb  the  deep,  and  mark  the  fcene 
How  fair !  how  paffing  fair !  in  grateful  drains 
Singing  the  praifes  of  creative  love. 
Like  thee,  I'll  tend  the  call  of  matin  bell  f 
To  early  orifons,  and  lateft  tune 
My  evening  fong  to  that  more  wond'rous  love, 
Which  fav'd  us  from  the  grand  apoftate's  wiles, 
And  righteous  vengeance  of  Almighty  ire, 
Juftly  incens'd.  O  pow'r  of  grace  divine! 
When  mercy  met  with  truth,  with  juftice,  peace, 
Thou,  holy  hermit !  in  this  league  fecure, 
Did'ft  wait  death's  vanquifh'd  ipe&re  as  a  friend. 
To  change  thy  mortal  coil  for  heav'nly  blifs. 

Next,  Kenelworth  !  thy  fame  invites  the  fong. 
Affemblage  fweet  of  focial,  and  ferene  ! 
But  chiefly  two  fair  ftrects,  in  advcrfe  rows, 
Their  lengthen'd  fronts  extend,  reflecting  each 
Beauty  on  each  reciprocal.  Between 

*  The  Right  Hon.  Lady  Louifa  Grewlle,  daugbtct 
to  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earlof  Wanuick. 

f  Called  Guy's  Cliff,  the  feat  of  the  Right  Hon. 
Lady  Mary  Grcatlccd. 

|  Here vfOJ anciently  an  oratory,  where  traditionfays, 
Gt'yffent  the  latter  fart  of  his  life  in  devotional  exercifei, 
X  x 


^5,0  T  H  E   W  O  R  K  S   O  F  J  A  G  0. 

A  verdant  valley,,  flop'd  from  either  fide, 
Forms  the  mid  fpace,  where  gently-gliding  flows 
A  cryftal  flream,  beneath  the  mo'ild'ring  bafe 
Of  an  old  abbey's  venerable  walls. 
Still  further' in  the  vale  her  caftle  lifts 
Its  irately  tow'rs,  and  tctt'ring  battlements, 
Dreft  with  the  rampant  ivy's  uncheck'd  growth 
Luxuriant.  Here  let  uspaufe  a  while, 
To  read  the  melancholy  tale  of  pomp 
Laid  low  in  duft,  and  from  hiftoric  page, 
Compofe  its  epitaph.  Hail,  *  Clinton!  hail! 
Thy   Norman    founder    ftill  yon   neighb'ring  f 

green, 

And  ma  fly  walls,  with  flyle  \  Imperial  grac'd, 
Record.    The  §  Montforts  thee  with  hardy  deeds, 
And  memorable  fiege  by  ]|  Henry's  arms, 
And  fenatorial  acts,  that  bear  thy  name 
Diftinguifti.  Thee  the  bold  Lancaftrian  f  line, 
A  royal  train  !  from  valiant  Gaunt  deriv'd, 
Grace  with  new  luftre  ;  till  Eliza's  hand 
Transferr'd  thy  walls  to  Leicefter's  *  *  fa  vour'd  carl. 
He  long,  beneath  thy  roof,  the  maiden  queen, 
And  all  her  courtly  gueils,  with  rare  device 
Of  mafic,  and  emblematic  fcenery, 
Tritons,  and  fea-nymphs,  and  the  floating  ifle, 
Detain'd.  Nor  feats  of  prowefs,  jouft,  or  tilt 
Of  harnefs'd  knights,  nor  ruftic  revelry 
"Were  wanting  ;  nor  the  dance  and  fprightly  mirth 
Beneath  the  feftive  walls,  with  regal  ftate, 
And  choiceft  lux'ry  ferv'd.  But  regal  (rate 
And  fprightly  mirth,  beneath  the  feftive  roof, 
Are- now  no  more.  No  more  aflembled  crowds 
At  the  ftern  porter's  lodge  admittance  crave. 
No  more,  with  plaint,  or  fuit  importunate, 
The  thronged  lobby  echoes,  nor  with  ftaff 
Or  gaudy  badge,  the  bufy  purfuivants 
Lead  to  wifli'd  audience.  All,  alas!  is  gone, 
And  filence  keeps  her  melancholy  court 
'.Throughout  the  walls ;  fave,  where  in  rooms  of 

ftate, 

Kings  once  repos'd !  chatter  the  wrangling  daws, 
Or  fcreechowls  hoot  along  the  vaulted  ifles. 
No  more  the  trumpet  calls  the  martial  band, 
"With  fpfightly  fummonsto  the  guarded  lifts; 
Uor  lofty,  galleries  their  pride  difclofe 
Of  beauteous  nymphs  in  courtly  pomp  attir'd, 
Watching,  with  trembling  hearts,  the   doubtful 

ftrife, 

And  with  their  looks  infpiring  wond'rous  deeds. 
No  more  the  lake  difplays  its  pageant  fhows, 
And  emblematic  forms.  Alike  the  lake, 
And  all  its  emblematic  forms  are  flown, 


*  Geoffrey  de  Clintati,  ii'Bo  built  loth  ibe  Cajile,  and 
the  Unjoining  lilonajtery,  Temp,  Hen.  J. 

•J-   Clint  en  Green. 

j   Ceefar's  Tatver. 

§  The  Mon'iforts,  EarJs  ofLeiccJier,  cf -which  Simon 
ie  Montfort,and  his  fan  Henry,  ii-ere  titled  at  the  bat 
tle  of  F.-vcJkiim. 

||  Henry  111.  ivho  bcfreged  this  Cajlle,  and  called  a 
convention  here,  ivjiicb  pajjid  an  afi  for  redeeming  for 
feited  ejtates,  called  Di£iut/i  de  Kenelivortb. 

^  From  ivhom  a  fart  of  this  frufiufe  is  called  Lan- 
cajier*s  Buildings. 

**  Grjiilid  by  Qreen  Elizabeth  to  Dudley  Earl  of 
3LeitcJ!er. 


Or  buxom  damfels  ted  the  new-mown  hay. 

What  art  thou,  grandeur  i  with  thy  flatt'ring 

train 

Of  pompous  lies,  and  bo;iftful  promifes  ? 
Where  are  they  now,  and  what's  their  mighty  fum  ? 
All,  all  are  vanifh'd  !  like  the  fleeting  forms 
Drawn  in  an  evening  cloud.  Nought  now  remains, 
Save  thefe  fad  relics  of  departed  pomp, 
Thefe  fpoils  of  time,  a  monumental  pile  ! 
Which  to  the  vain  its  mournful-tale  relates, 
And  warns  them  not  to  truft  to  fleeting  dreams. 

Thefe  too,  though  boafting  not  a  royal  train, 
The  mule,  O  *  Balfhal'!  in  her  faithful  page 
Shall  celebrate  :  for  long  beneath  thy  roof 
A  band  of  warriors  bold,  of  high  renown, 
To  martial  deeds,  and  hazardous  emprize 
Sworn,  for  defence  of  Salcm's  facrcd  walls, 
From  Paynim  foes,  and  holy  pilgrimage. 
Now  other  guefts  thou  entertain'ft, 
A  female  band,  by  female  charity 
Suftain'd.     Thee,  f  Wrexal!  too,  in  fame  ally'd, 
Seat  of  the  poet's,  and  the  mufe's  friend  ! 
My  verfe  {hall  (ing,  with  thy  long-exil'd  knight, 
To  thefe  brown  thickets,  and  his  mournful  mate, 
By  Leonard's  pray'rs,  from  diftant  fervitude, 
Invifibly  convey'd.     Yet  doubted  fhe 
His  fpeech,  and  alter'd  form,  and  better  proof 
Impatient  urg'd.     (So  Ithaca's  chafte  queen 
Her  much-wifli'd  lord,  by  twice  ten  abient  years 
And  wife  Minerva's  guardian  care  difguis'd 
Acknowlcdg'd  not :  fo,  with  fufpended  faith, 
His  bridal  claim  reprefs'd.)     Straight  he  difplays 
Part  of  the  nuptial  ring  between  them  fhar'd, 
When  in  the  bold  crufade  his  fhield  he  bore. 
The  twin  memorial  of  their  plighted  love 
Within  her  faithful  bofom  fhe  retain'd. 
Quick  from  its  fhrine  the  hallow'd  pledge  fhe  drew, 
To  match  it  with  its  mate,  when,  ftrange  to  tell ! 
No  fooner  had  the  feparated  curves 
Approach'd  each  other,  but,  with  fudden  fpring, 
They  join'd  again,  and  the  fmall  circle  clos'd. 
So  they,  long  fevcr'd,  met  in  clofe  embrace. 

At  length,  O  Coventry !  thy  neigh'bring  fields, 
And  fair  furrounding  villas  we  attend, 
That  views  with  lafting  joy  thy  green  domains, 
J  Aliefly,  and  ft  Whitley's  paftures,  §  Stivichale, 
And  f  Bagington's  fair  walls,  and  **  Stonely !  thine, 
Andff  Combe's  majeftic  pile,  both  boafling  once, 
Monaftic  pomp,  flill  equal  in  Tenown  ! 
And,  as  their  kindred  fortunes  they  compare, 
Applauding  more  the  prefent,  than  the  paft. 
Jiv'n  now  the  pencil'd  meets,  unroll'd,  difplay 


And  in  their  place  mute  flocks  and  heifers  graze, 

*  Formerly  a  feat  of  the  Knights  Templars,  noir  an 
Alms-)ioufe  jorpoor  ividoivs,  founded  by  tbe  £ddy  Ka 
tharine  Levifon,  a  dependent  of  Robert  Dudley  Earl  of 
Lticejler. 

•f  Tbtfeat  ofChriJjcph'r  Wren,  Efq.  once  a  nunnery , 
dedicated  to  St.  Leonard.— See  Dugdale's  Antiquities. 

t   Tbe  feat  of  M.  Neale,  Efq. 

||  Tbe  feat  of  £-/.  BoMvaiert  Ef$-  "01V  belonging  tt 
Francis  JVLeeler^  E/g. 

§  The  fiat  of  Arthur  Gregory,  Efq.  commanding  a 
pleafant  i-ieiu  of  Coventry  park,  &c. 

f  Tbe  feat  sf  William  Bromley,  Efq.  one  of  the  re" 
prefentati'jcs  in  Pafl'iameiit  for  the  county  of  Warwick* 

*  *    The  feat  of  tie  Right  Hon.  L  ord  Leigh. 
ff  The  feat  of  the  Right  Htn,  L?rd  Craven*. 


POEMS. 


691 


More  fprightly  charms  of  beauteous  lawn,  and 

grove, 

And  fweetly-wandring  paths,  and  ambient  ftrcam, 
To  cheer  withlafliug  flow  th'  enamell'd  f'cene, 
And  themes  of  fong  for  future  bards  prepare. 

Fair  city!  thuicnvirpft'd  !  and  thyfclf 
For  royal  grant's,*and  filken  arts  renown'd  ! 
To  thee  the  docile  youth  repair,  and  learn, 
With  fidelong  glunce,  and  nimble  flroke  to  ply 
The  flitting  ihuttle,  while  their  active  feet, 
In  myflic  movements,  prcfs  the  fubtle  flops 
Of  the  loom's  complicated  frame,  contriv'd,     [art, 
From  the  looi'e  thread,  to  form,  with  wond'rous 
A  texture  clofe,  inwrought  with  choice  device 
Of  flow'r,  or  foliage  gay,  to  the  rich  fluff, 
Or  filky  web,  imparting  fairer  worth. 
Nor  fhall  the  mule,  in  her  defcriptive  fong, 
Neglect  from  dark  oblivion  to  preferve 
Thy  mould'ring  *  crofs,  with  ornament  profufe 
Of  pinnacles,  and  niches,  proudly  rais'd, 
Height  above  height,  a  fculptur'd  chronicle  ! 
Lefs  lading  than  the  monumental  verfe. 
Nor  fcornful  will  fhe  flout  thy  cavalcade, 
Made  yearly  to  Godiva's  deathJef*  praife, 
While  gaping  crowds  around  her  pageant  throng, 
With  prying  look,  and  ftupid  wonderment. 
Not  fo  the  mufe  !  who,  with  her  virtue  fir'd, 
And  love  of  thy  renown,  in  notes  as  chafle 
As  her  fair  purpofe,  from  memorials  darlt, 
Shall,  to  the  lift'ning  ear,  her  tale  explain. 

When  f  Edward,  laft  of  Egbert's  royal  race, 
O'er  fe? 'n  united  realms  the  fceptre  fway'd, 
Proud  Leofric,  with  truft  of  fov'reign  povv'r, 
The  fubject  Mercians  rul'd.     His  lofty  {late 
The  loveliefl  of  her  fex  !  a  noble  dame 
Of  Thorald  s  ancient  line,  Godiva  fhar'd. 
But  pageant  pomp  charm'd  not  her  faintly  mind 
Like  virtuous  deeds,  and  care  of  others  weal. 
Such  tender  paflions  in  his  haughty  breaft 
He  cherifh'd  not,  but  with  defpotic  fway, 
Controul'd  his  vafTal  tribes,  and,  from  their  toil, 
His  luxury  maintain'd.     Godiva  faw 
Their  plaintive  looks ;  with  grief  fhe  faw  thy  fons, 
O  Coventry  !  by  tyrant  laws  opprefs'd, 
And  urg'd  her  haughty  lord,  but  urg'd  in  vain  ! 
With  patriot-rule,  thy  drooping  arts  to  cheer. 
Yet  "though  forbidden  -e'er  again  to  move 
In  what  fo  much  his  lofty  flate  concern'd, 
Not  fo  from  thought  of  charitable  deed 
Defifted  fhe,  but  amiably  perverfe 
Her  hopelefs  fuit  rcncw'd.    Bold  was  th'  attempt ! 
Yet  not  more  bold  than  fair,  if  pitying  fighs 
Be  fair,  and  charity  which  knows  no  bounds. 
What  had'ft  thou  then  to  ftar  from  wrath  inflam'd 
At  fuch  tranfcendent  guilt,  rebellion  join'd 
With  female  weaknefs,  and  officious  zeal  ? 
So  thy  flern  lord  might  call  the  gen'rous  deed ; 
Perhaps  might  puniih  as  befitted  deed 
.So  call'd,  if  love  reitraiu'd  not :  yet  though  love 
O'er  anger  triumph'd,  and  imperious  rule, 
Not  o'er  his  pride  ;  which  better  to  maintain, 
His  anfwer  thus  he  artfully  return'd. 

Why  will  the  lovely  partner  of  my  joys, 
Forbidden,  thus  her  wild  petition  urge  ?  ' 

*  Built  by  Sir   William    Hoiljfs,   Lord  J[fa\er  ef 
JjtaoHti  in  tks  rei?n  of  King  Hair*  FJJJ," 


Think  not  my  breaft  is  fleel'd  againft  the  claims 
Of  fweet  humanity.     Think  not  I  hear 
Regardlefs  thy  requeft.     If  piety, 
Or  other  motive,  with  millaken  zeal, 
Call'd  to  thy  aid,  pierc'd  not  my  ftubborn  frame, 
Yet  to  the  pleader's  worth,  and  modeft  charms, 
Wou'd  my  fond  love  no  trivial  gift  impart. 
But  pomp  arid  fame  forbid.     That  vaffalage, 
Which,  thoughtlefs,  thou  won'dft  tempt  me  to 

diffolve, 

Exalts  our  fplcndour,  and  augments  my  pow'r. 
With  tender  bofoms  form'd,  and  yielding  hearts, 
Your  fex  foon  melts  at  fights  of  vulgar  woe  ; 
Heedlefshow  glory  fires  the  manly  breaft 
With  love  of  rank  fublime.     This  principle 
In  female  minds  a  feebler  empire  holds, 
Oppofing  Icfs  the  fpecious  arguments 
For  milder  rule,  and  freedom's  popular  theme. 
But  plant  fome  gentler  paffion  in  its  room, 
Some  virtuous  inftincl  fuited  to  your  make, 
As  glory  is  to  ours,  alike  requir'd. 
A  ranfom  for  the  vulgar's  vafTal  ftate, 
Then  wou'dfl  thou  foon  the  ftrong  contention  owe/ 
And  juftify  my  conduct.     Thou  art  fair, 
And  chafle  as  fair  ;  with  niceft  fenfe  of  fhame, 
And  fanclity  of  thought.    Thy  bofom  thou 
Did'ft  ne'er  expofe  to  fhamelefs  dalliance 
Of  wanton  eyes  ;  nor,  ill-concealing  it 
Beneath  the  treach'rous  cov'ring,  tempt  afide 
The  fecret  glance,  with  meditated  fraud. 
Go  now,  and  lay  thy  modefl  garments  by  : 
In  naked  beauty,  mount  thy  milk-white  fleed,' 
And  through  the  flreets,  in  face  of  open  day, 
And  gazing  flaves,  their  fair  deliv'rer  ride: 
Then  will  I  own  thy  pity  was  fincere, 
Applaud  thy  virtue,  and  confirm  thy  fuit. 
But  if  thou  lik'ft  not  fuch  ungentle  terms, 
•\.nd  fure  thy  foul  the  guilty  thought  abhors  ! 
Know  then,  that  Leofric,  like  thee,  can  feel, 
Like  thce,  may  pity,  while  he  feems  feverc, 
And  urge  thy  fuit  no  more.  His  fpeech  he  clos'd, 
And,  with  ftrange  oaths,  confirm'd  the.  fad  decree. 

Again,  within  Godiva's  gentle  breaft 
New  tumults  rofe.     At  length  her  female  fears 
Gave  way,  and  fweet  humanity  prevail'd, 
Relu&aut,  but  refolv'd,  the  matchlefs  fair 
Gives  all  her  naked  beauty  to  the  fun  : 
Then  mounts  her  milk-white  fleed,  and,  through'' 

the  ftreets, 

Rides  fearlefs;  her  difheveU'd  hair  a  veil  ! 
That  o'er  her  beauteous  limbs  luxuriant  flow'd, 
Nurs'd  long  by  fate  for  this  important  day  ! 
Proflrate  to  earth  th'  aftonifiVd  vaflalsbow, 
Or  to  their  inmoft  privacies  retire. 
All,  but  one  prying  Have  !  who  fondly  hop'd, 
With  venial  curiofity,  to  gaze  /• 

On  fu'ch  a  wond'rous  darae.  But  foul  difgrace 
O'ertook  the  bold  offender,  and  he  flands, 
By  jufl  dectee,  a  fpeClacle  abhbrr'd, 
And  lafling  monument  of  fwift  revenge 
For  thoughts  impure,  a'nd  beauty's  injur'd  charm*, 

Ye  guardians  of  hei  rights,  fo  nobly  won  ! 
Cherifh  the  mufe,  who  firft  in  modern  {trains 
£{Tay'd  to  fmg  your  lovely  *  patriot's  fame, 


*   Sec  DugJale's  Antiquities  o 

It  is  pleufant  enough  to  akferve,  ivitb  ivbat  gravity 
tie  ahvf-rn:nticncJ  lartitd  writer  tfwelli  en  the  praifci 


69»  THE    WORKS 

Anxious  to  refcue  from  oblivious  time 
{Such  matchlefs  virtue,  her  heroic  deed 
lliuftrate,  and  your  gay  proceffion  grace. 

BOOK  III. 

AFTERNOON. 

ARGUMENT. 

ADDHESS  to  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Claren 
don.  Metaphyfical  fubtleties  exploded.  Philo- 
fophical  account  of  vifion,  and  optic  glaffes.  Ob 
jects  of  fight  not  fufficiently  regarded  on  ac 
count  of  their  being  common.  Story  relative 
thereto.  Return  to  the  mid-fcene.  Solihul. 
^School-fcene.  Bremicham-.  Its  manufactures. 
Coal-mines.  Iron-ore.  Procefs  of  it.  Panegyric 
upon  iron. 

AGAIN,  the  mufe  her  airy  flight  effays. 
Will  Villers,  Ikill'd  alike  in  claffic  fong, 
Or,  with  a  critic's  eye,  to  trace  the  charms 
Of  nature's  beauteous  fcenes,  attend  the  lay  ? 
Will  he,  accuftom'd  to  foft  Latian  climes, 
<A»  to  their  fofter  numbers,  deign  a  while 
To  quit  the  Mantuan  bard's  harmonious  ftrain, 
By  fweet  attraction  of  the  theme  allur'd  ? 
The  Latian  poet's  fong  is  flill  the  fame. 
Not  fo  the  Latian  fields.    The  Gentle  arts 
That  made  thofe  fields  fo  fair,  when  Gothic  rule, 
And  fuperftiticm,  with  her  nigot  train, 
Tixt  there  their  gloomy  feat,  to  this  fair  ifle 
Retir'd,  with  freedom's  gen'rous  fons  to  dwell, 
To  grace-her  cities,  and  her  fmilrng  plains 
With  plenty  clothe,  and  crown  the  rural  toil. 

Nor  hath  he  found,  throughout  thofe  fpacious 

realms 

Where  Altfis  flows,  and  Ifler's  ftately  flood, 
More  verdant  meads,  cr  more  fupcrb  remains 
Of  old  magnificence,  than  his  own  fields 
Difplay,  where  *  Clinton's  venerable  walls 
In  ruin,  ftill  their  ancient  grandeur  tell. 

Requires  there  aught  of  learning's  pompons  aid 
To  prove  that  all  this  outward  frame  of  things 
Is  what  it  feems,  not  unfubftantial  air, 
Ideal  vifion,  or  a  waking  dream, 
Without  exiftence,  fave  what  fancy  gives  ? 
Shall  we,  becaufe  we  ftrive  in  vain  to  tell 
How  matter  acts  on  incorporeal  mind, 
Or  how,  when  fleephas  lock'd  up  ev'ry  fenfe, 
Or  fevers  rage,  imagination  paints 
Unreal  fcenes,  reject  what  fober  fenfe, 
And  calmefl  thought  atteft  ?  Shall  we  confound 

ff  this  rcnoiuned  lady.  "  And  noiu,  before  1  proceed" 
jliys  be,  "  I  have  a  "word  more  to  fay  of  the  noble  Coun- 
iefs  Godeva,  ivbicb  is,  that  bcfides  her  devout  advance 
ment  of  that  pious  -work  of  bis,  i.  e.  her  bi'Jband  L'.ofric, 
in  Ms  magnificent  tnonajlery,  viz.  cf  mtnks  at  Coventry, 
Jbe  gave  ber  ivbole  treafun  tbertto,  andfetitforfhiljul 
goldjmitbs,  ivho,  ivitb  all  the  Sold  and  Jilver  fbe  bad, 
?>iade  crnffe.t,  images  offjints,  and  oiler  curious  orna 
ments."  JVbicfj  pajjages  mayfei-ve  as  afpecimen  of  the 
devotion  and  falrietifm  oftbofe  times. 

*  Ti'.ie  magnificent  ruins  of  Kenel-wcrtL  Cafile,  built 
ty  Geofry  de  Clinton,  and  more  particularly  difcribed  in 
the  preceding  book,  belong  to  the  Rigbt  Hon.  the  Earl  of 
Clarendon,  many  ytars  reftdent  in  Italy,  and  Envoy  to 
fnoft  oftbt  Court*  in  Germany. 


OF   JAGO. 

States  wholly  diff'rent  ?  Sleep  with  wakeful  life? 
Dileafe  with  health  ?  This  were  to  quit  the  day, 
And  feek  our  path  at  midnight.  To  renounce 
Man's  fureft  evidence,  and  idolize 
Imagination.  Hence  then  banifh  we 
1'hcl'e  metaphyfic  fubtleties,  and  mark 
The  curious  ftructure  of  thefe  vllual  orbs, 
The  windows  of  the:  mind  ;  fubftance  how  clear, 
Aqueous,  or  cryfhiline  !  through  which  the  foul, 
As  through  a  glafs,  all  outward  things  furveys. 

See,  while  the  fun  gilds,  with  his  golden  beam, 
Yon  d^ftant  pile,  which  Hyde,  with  care  refin'd, 
From  plunder  guards,  its  form  how  beautiful ! 
Anon  lomc  cloud  his  radiance  intercepts, 
And  all  the  fplcndid  object  fades  away. 
Or,  if  fome  incruflation  o'er  the  fight 
Its  baleful  texture  fpread,  lily;  a  clear  lens, 
With  filth  obfcur'd !  no  more  the  fenfory,. 
Through  the    thick  film,   imbibes    the    cheerful 

day, 

'  But  cloud  inftead,  and  ever-during  night 
Surround  it.'  So,  when  on  foine  weigfety  truth 
A  beam  of  heav'nly  light  its  lufti e  fheds, 
To  reafon's  eye  it  looks  fupremely  fair. 
But  if  foul  paffion,  or  diftemper'd  pride, 
Impede  its  fearch,  or  phrenzy  fc'ize  the  brain, 
Then  ignorance  a  gloomy  darknefs  fpreads, 
Or  fuperflition,  with  miihapen  forms, 
Krects  its  favage  empire  in  the  mind. 

The  vulgar  race  of  men,  like  herds  that  graze« 
On  inftinct  live,  not  knowing  how  they  live; 
While  reafon  fleeps,  or  waking  ftoops  to  frnfe. 
But  fage  philofophy  explores  the  caufe 
Of  each  phenomenon  of  fight,  or  found, 
Tafte,  touch,  or  fmell;  each  organ's  inmoft  frame^ 
And  correfpondence  with  external  things : 
Kxplains  how  diff'rent  texture  of  their  parts 
Exckes  fcnfations  diff'rent,  rough,  or  fmooth, 
Bitter,  or  fweet,  fragrance,  or  uoifome  fcent : 
Haw  various  ftreams  of  undulating  air, 
Through  the  ear's  winding  labyrinth  convey 'd, 
Caufe  all  the  vaft  variety  of  founds. 
Hence  too  the  fubtle  properties  of  light, 
And  fev'n-fold  colour  are  diftinctly  vicw'd 
In  the  prifmatic  glafe,  and  outward  forms 
Shown  fairly  drawn,  in  miniature  divine, 
On  the  transparent  eye's  membraneous  cell. 
By  combination  hence  of  diff' rent  orbs, 
Convex,  or  concave,  through  their  cryftal  pores^. 
Trantmitting  varioufly  the  Iblarray, 
With  line  oblique,  the  telefcopic  tube 
Reveals  the  wonders  of  the  ftarry  fphere, 
Worlds  above  worlds  ;  or,  in  a  fingle  grain, 
Or  wat'ry  drop,  the  penetrative  eye 
Difcerns  innumerable  inhabitants 
Of  perfect  flructure,  imperceptible 
To  naked  view.    Hence  each  defect  of  fcnfc 
Obtains  relief;  hence  to  the  palfy'd  ear 
New  impulfe,  vifion  new  to  languid  fight, 
Surprife  to  both,  and  youthful  joys  reflor'd  ! 
Cheap  is  the  blifs  we  never  knew  to  want ! 
So  gracelefs  fpendthrifts  wafte  unthankfully 
Thofe  fums,  which  merit  often  fecks  in  vain, 
And  poverty  wou'd  kneel  to  call  its  own. 
So  objects,  hourly  feen,  unheeded  pafs, 
At  which  the  new-created  fight  would  gaze 
With  exquifite  delight.  Doubt  ye  this  truth  f 
A  tale  fhall  place  it  fairer  to  your  tiew. 


P     O     E 

A  youth  *  there  was,  a  youth  of  lib'ral  mind, 
And  lair  proportion  in  each  lineament 
Of  outward  form:  but  dim  fuft'ufion  veil'd 
His  fightlefs  orbs,  which  roll'd,  and  ro'l'd  in  vain 
I'o  find  the  blaze  of  day.  From  inf-.iiicy, 
Till  full  maturity  glow'd  on  his  check, 
The  long,  long  night  its  gloomy  empire  held, 
And  mock'd  each  gentle  effort,  lotions, 
Or  catapiafms,  by  parental  hands, 
With  frukiefs  care  employ'd.  At  length  a  leech, 
Of  fkill  profound,  well-vers'd  in  optic  lore, 
An  arduous  talk  devis'd  afidc  to  draw 
The  veil,  which,  like  a  cloud,  hung  o'er  his  fight, 
And  ope  a  lucid  pail'age  to  the  fun. 
Inilant  the  youth  the  promised  bleffing  craves. 
But  firft  his  parents,  with  uplifted  ha;uis, 
The  healing  pow'rs  invoke,  and  pitying  friends 
With  fympathi^ing  heart,  the  rites  prepare': 
'Mongft  thefe,  who  well  deferv'd  %the  important 

tnift, 

A  gentle  maid  there  was,  that  long  had  wail'd 
His  haplefs  fate.  Full  many  a  tedious  hour 
Had  fhc,  with  converfc,  and  inflruclive  long, 
Beguil'd.  Full  many. a  ftep  darkling  her  arm 
Suftain'd  him  ;  and,  as  they  their  youthful  days 
In  friendly  deed?,  and  mutual  intercourfe 
Of  fweet  endearment  pafs'd,  love-in  each  b'rcail 
His  empire  fix'd^  in  hers  with'pity  join'd, 
In  his  with  gratitude,  and  deep  regard.  [illm, 

The  friendly  wound  was  giv'n  ;  th'  obftracAing 
Drawn  artfully  afide  ;  and,  on  his  fight 
Burft  the  full  tide  of  day.   Surpris'd^he  flood, 
Not  knowing  where  lie  was,  nor  what  he  law  ! 
The  fkiiful  artil):,  iirft  as  firft  in  place 
He  view'd,  then  feiz'd  his  hand,  then  fdt  his  own. 
Then  mark'd  their  near  refemblance,  much  per- 

plex'd, 
And  flill  the  more  jerplex'd,  the  more  he'faw. 

Now  lilence  firft  th'  impatient  mother  broke, 
And,  as  her  eager  looks  on  him  fhe  bent,      fgaz'd 
"  My  fon,"  (he  cried,  "  My  fon!"  On  her  he 
With  frefh  furprife.     And,  what?  he^cried,  art 

thou 

My  mother  ?  for  thy  voice  befpeaks  thee  fuch, 
Though  to  my  fight  unknown.  Thy  mother  I ! 
She  quick  reply'cl,  thy  fitter,  brother  tliclV — 
O  !  'fis  too  much,  he  laid;  too  foon  to  part, 
Jire  well  we  meet !  But  this  new  flood  of  clay 
O'erpow'rs  me,  and  I  fell  a  death-like  damp 
Chill  all  my  frame,  and  Hop  my  fault'ring  tongue. 

Now  Lydia,  fo  they  cali'ii  his  gentle  friend, 
Who,  with  averted  eye,  but  in  her  foul, 
Had  felt  the  lancing  fleel,  her  aid  apply  "d, 
And  flay,  dear  youth,  fhc  faid,  or  with  theo  take 
Tliy  Lydia,  thine  alike  in  life,  or  uoath. 

At  Lydia's  name,  at  India's  well  kaowu  voice, 
He  ft  rove  again  to  raife  his  drooping  head, 
And  ope  hisclofing  eye,  but  ftrovc  in  vain, 
And  on  her  trembling  bofom  funk  away. 

Now  other  fears  diftraiSh  his  weeping  friends. 
But  fhort  this  grief!  for  foon  his  life  return'd, 
And,  with  return  of  life,  return'd  their  peace. 
Yet,  for  his  fafety ,  they  refol ve  >a  while 
His  infant  fenfe  from  days  bright  beams  to  guard, 
Ere  yet  again  they  tempt  fuch/dang'rous  joy. 

*  For  the  general  fiiljcfi  of  the  following  Jlorv^fa: 
i!n  Tatltr,  No.  55.  and  Smith's  Optics. 


S.  69? 

As,  when  from  fome  tranfporting  dream  aw  alt 'd* 
We  foiuily  on  the  fwcet  dcluiion  dwell, 
And,  with  intenfe  reflection,  to  our  minds 
Piclure  th'  enchanted  fcehe — angelic  forms— 
Converfe  fublime — and  more  than  waiting  blifs  1 
Till  the  coy  vifion,  as  die  more  we  ftrive 
To  paint  it  livelier  on  th'  enraptur'd  fenfe, 
.Still  fainter  grows,  and  dies  at  laft  away  : 
So  dwelt  the  youth  on  his  late  tranfient  joy, 
So  long'd  the  dear  remembrance  to  renew. 

At  length,  again  the  wifh'd-for  day  arriv'd. 
The  tafk  was  Lydia's  !  hers  the  charge,  alone 
From  dangers  new  to  guard  the  dear  delight; 
But  firft  th'  impatient  youth  fhe  thus  addrelVd  : 

Dear  youth  !  my  trembling  hands  but  ill  cffiiy 
This  tender  talk,  and,  with  unufual  fear, 
My  flutt'ring  heart  forebodes  fome  danger  nigh. 

Difmifa  thy  fears,  he  cried,  nor  think  fo  ill 
I  con  thy  leffons,  as  ft  ill  need  be  taught 
To  hail,  with  caution,  the  new-coming  day. 
Then  loofe.thefe  envious  folds,  and  teach  my  fight, 
If  more  can  be,  to  make  thee  more  belov'd. 

Ah !  there's  my  grief,  fhe  cried :  'tis  true  our 

hearts 

With  mutual  pnffion  burn,  but  then  'tis  true 
Thou  ne'er  haft  known  me  by  that  fubtlc  fenfe 
Through  which  love  moft  an  eafy  paflage  finds; 
That  ienfe  !  which  foon  may  fhow  thee  many  a 

maid 

Fairer  than  Lydia,  though  more  faithful  none. 
And  may  Ihe  not  ceafe  then  to  be  belov'd  ? 
May  fhe  not  then,  when  lefs  thou  nced'ft  her  care, 
Give  place  to-fome  new  charmer?  'Tis  for  this 
1  figh ;  for  this  my  fad  foreboding  fears 
New  terrors  form.  And  can'ft  thou  then,  he  cried, 
Want  aught  that  might  endear  thee  to  my  foul  ? 
Art  thou  not  excellence  ?  Art  tlioa  not  all 
That  man  cou'd  wifh  ?  Goodnefs,  and  gentleft  love? 
Can  I  forget  thy  long  affiduous  care  ? 
Thy  morning-tendance,  fureft  mark  to  me 
Of  day's  return,  of  night  thy  late  adieu  ? 
Do  I  need  aught  to  make  my  blefs  complete, 
When  thou  art  by  me  ?  when  I  prefs  thy  hand? 
When  I  breath  fragrance  at  thy  near  approach  ; 
And  hear  the  Iwcettft  mufic  in  thy  voice  ? 
Can  that,  which  to  each  other  fenfe  is  dear, 
So  wond'rous  dear,  be  otherwife  to  fight  ? 
Or  can  fight  make,  what  is  to  reafon  good, 
And  lovely,  leem  lefs  lovely,  and  lefs  good  ? 
Poriih  the  fenfe,  that  wou'd  make  Lydia  fuch  \ 
Periilji  iis  joys,  thole  joys  however  great  1 

•  put chas'd  with  the  lofs  of  thee. 
O  my  cL-ar  Lydia  !  if  there  be  indeed 
The  danger  thou  rcport'ft,  O  !  by  our  love, 
Our 'mutual  love,-I  charge  thcc,  ne'er  unbind 
Thefe  haplefs  orbs,  or  tear  them  from  their  feat, 
Ere  they  betray  me  thus  to  worle  than  death. 

No,  Heav'n  forbid  !  fhe  cried,  for  Heav'n  hath 

heard 

Thy  parents  pray'rs,  and  many  a  friend  now  waits 
To  middle  looks  of  cordial  love  with  thine. 
And  fhou'd  I  rob  them  of  the  facred  biifs  ? 
Shou'd  I  deprive  thee  of  the  rapt'rous  fight  ? 
No !  be  thou  happy  ;  happy  be  thy  friends ; 
Whatever  fate  attend  thy  Lydia's  love ; 
Thy  haplefs  Lydia !  Haplefs  did  1  fay  ? 
Ah !   wherefore  ?   wherefore    wrong  I   thus  tly 
worth  I 


(94 


THE   WORKS    OF   J  A  G  O. 


XVhy  doubt  the  well-known  truth,  and  conftant 

mind  ? 

No,  happieft  me  of  all  the  happy  train, 
In  mutual  vows,  and  plighted  faith  fecure  ! 
Si5  faying,  ihe  the  filken  bandage  loos'd, 
Nor  added  further  fpeech,  prepar'd  to  watch 
The  nejv  furprife,  and  guide  the  doubtful  fcene, 
By  filence  more  than  tenfold  night  concpai'd. 
When   thus   the  youth  :    And    is   this   then  the 

world 

In  which  I  am  to  live  ?    Am  I  awake  ? 
Or  do  I  dream  ?     Or  hath  fome  pow'r  unknown, 
T'ar  from  my  friend?,  far  from  my  native  home  ; 
ConVey'd  me  to  thefe  radiant  feats  ?     O  ihou  ! 
Inhabitant  of  this  enlightened  world  ! 
Whofe  heav'nly  foftnefs  far  tranfcends  his  fliape, 
By  whom  this  miracle  was  firft  achiev'd, 
O  !  deign  thou  to  inllrurt  me  where  I  am ; 
And  how  to  name  thee  by  true  character, 
Angel,  or  mortal !   Once  1  had  a  friend, 
Who,  but  till  now,  ne'er  left  me  in  difttefs. 
Her  fpeech  was  harmony,  at  which  my  heart 
AVith  tranfport  flutter'd  ;  and  her  gracious  hand 
Supplied  me  with  whate'er  my  wifh  could  form; 
Supply,  and  tranfport  ne'er  fo  wifh'd  before ! 
Never,  when  wanted,  yet,  fo  long  denied  ! 
Why  is  fhe  filent  now,  when  molt  I  long 
To  hear  her  heavenly  voice  ?  why  rlies  the  not 
With  more  than  ufual  fpeed  to  crown  my  blifr  J 
Ah  1  did  I  leave  her  in  that  darkfome  world  ? 
Or  rather  dwells  flie  not  in  thefe  bright  realms, 
Companion  fit  for  fuch  fair  forms  as  thine  ? 
O  !  teach  me,  if  thou  canft,  how  I  may  find 
This  gentle  counfellor;   when  found,  how  know 
By  this  new  fcnfe,  which,  better  (till  to  rate 
Her  worth,  I  chiefly  wilh'd.     This  lovely  form 
Replied,  In  me  behold  that  gentle  friend, 
If  ftill  thou  own'ft  me  fuch.     O  !  yes,  'tis  (he, 
He  cried  ;  'tis  Lydia  !  'tis  her  charming  voice  ! 

0  !  fpeak  again  ;  O  !  let  me  prefs  thy  hand  : 
On  thefe  I  can  rely.     This  new-born  fenfe 
May  cheat  me.     Yet  fo  much  I  prize  thy  form, 

1  willingly  would  think  it  tells  me  true — 

Ha !  what  are  thefe  ?    Ate  they  not  they  of 

whom 

Thouwarn'dflme?  Yes — true — theyarebeautiful. 
IBut  have  they  lov'd  like  thee,  tike  thee  convers'd  ? 
They  move  not  as  we  move,  they  bear  no  part 
In  my  new  blifs.     And  yet  methinks  in  one, 
Her  form  I  can  defcry,  though  now  fo  calm  '.. 
Who  call'd  me  fon.     Miftaken  youth  !  (lie  cried, 
Thefe  are  not  what  they  feem  ;  are  not  as  we,- 
Not  living  fubftances,  but  pic~tur'd  fhapes, 
Rey2mblances  of  life  !  by  mixture  forni'd 
Ot  light  and  fliade,  in  fweet  proportion  join'd. 
."R'it  hark  !  I  hear,  without,  thy  longing  friends, 
Who  wait  my  fummons,  and  reprove  my  .lay. 

To  thy  direction,  cried  th'  enraptur'd  youth, 
To  thy  direction  Icornmit  my  Reps. 
Lead  on,  be  thou  my  guide,  as  late, To  now, 
In  this  new  world,  'and  teach  me  how  to  ufe 
This  wond'rous  faculty  ;  which  thus,  fo  fobn 
Micks  me  with  phantoms."  'Yet  enough  for  me  ! 
That  all  my  paft  experience  joins  with  this 
To  tel'.  me  I  am  happier  than  I  know. 
To  tell  me  thou  art  Lydia  !  From  whofe  fide 
I  sever  more  will  part !  wt{h  whom  compar'J, 


All  others  of  her  fex,  however  fair, 
Shall  be  like  painted  unfubftantial  forms. 

So  when  the  foul,  inflam'd  with  ftrong  defife 
Of  purer  blifs,  its  earthly  manfion  leaves. 
Perhaps  fome  friendly  genius,  wont  to  fteer 
With  minifterial  charge,  hi?  dang'rous  fteps ; 
Perhaps  I'ome  gentle  partner  or'  his  toil, 
More  early  bleft,  in  radiant  lu/tre  clad, 
And  form  celeftial,  meets  his  dazzled  fight ;    [air, 
And  guides  his  way,   through   tvacklel's  fields  of 
To  join,  with  rapt'rous  joy,  th'  ethereal  train. 

Now  to  the  midland  iearch  the  mufe  returns. 
For  more,  and  ftill  more  bufy  Icenes  remain ; 
The  pronns'd  fchools  of  wife  artificers 
In  brafs  and  iron.     But  another  Ichool 
Of  gentler  arts  demands  the  mufe's  forig, 
Where  firlt  ilie  learn'd  to  lean  the  meafur'd  verfe, 
And  aukwardly  her  infant  notes  efTky'd. 

Hail,  Solihul  '.  refpedtfui  I  falute 
Thy  walls ;.    more  awful   once  '.    when,  from  the 

fweets 

Of  feftive  freedom,  and  domeflic  eafe, 
With  throbbing  heart,  to  die  (tern  difcipline 
Of  pedagogue  morofe  I  lad  return'd. 
But  though  no  more  his  hrow  fevere,  nor  dread 
Of  birchen  fceptre  awes  my  riper  age, 
A  fterner  tyrant  rifes  to  my  view, 
With  deadlier  weapon  arm'd.  Ah  !  critic  !  fpare, 
0 !  fpare  the  mufe,  who  feels  her  youthful  fears 
On  thee  transferr'd,  and  trembles  at  thy  lafh. 
Againft  the  venal  tribe,  that  proftitutes 
The  tuneful  art,  to  footh  the  villain's  breafb, 
To  blazon  fools,  or  feed  the  pamper'd  luft 
Of  bloated  vanity  ;   againit  the  tribe 
Which  cafts  its  wanton  jefts  at  holy  truths, 
Or  clothes,  with  virtue's  garb,  th'  accurled  train 
Oflothfome  vices,  lift  thy  vengeful  arm, 
And  ail  thy  juft  feverity  exert. 
Enough  to  venial  faults,  and  haplefs  want 
Of  animated  numbers,  furh  as  breathe 
The  foul  of  epic  fong,  hath  erft  been  paid 
Within  thefe  walls,  ftill  Jtain'd  with  infant  blood. 

Yet  may  I  not  forget  the  pious  care 
Of  love  parental,  anxious  to  improve 
My  youthful  mind.     Nor  yet  the  debt  difown 
Due  to  fevere  reftraint,  and  rigid  laws, 
The  wholefome  curb  of  paflion's  head  ftrong  reign. 
To  them  I  owe  that  ere  with  painful  toil, 
Through  Prifcian's  crabbed  rules,  laborious  talk  I 
I  held  my  courfe,  till  the  dull  tirefome  road 
lj[ac'd  me  on  claflic  ground,  that  well  repaid 
The  labours  of  the  way.     To  them  I  owe 
The-  pieafing  knowledge  of  my  youthful  mates 
Matur'd  in  age  and  honours.  •   Thefe  among, 
I  gratulate  whom  Augnlta'sfenate  hails 
Father !  and,  in  each  charge  and  high  employ, 
Found  worthy  all  her  love,  with  ampleft  truft, 
And  dignity  inverts.     And  well  I  ween, 
Her  tribunitial  power,  and  purple  pomp 
On  thee  confers,  in  living  manners  fchool'd 
To  guard  her  weal,  and  vindicate  her  rights, 
O  Ladbroke  !  once  in  the  fame  fortunes  clafs'd 
Of  early  life;  with  count'nance  uneftrang'd, 
Forev'ry  friendly  deedffiill  vacant  found  '. 

Nor  can  the  mufe,  while  flie  thefe  Icenes  fur* 

•   veys, 
Forget  her  Shehflone,  in  the  youthful  toil 

4 


P    O    E    MS. 


695 


Aflbciate  ;  whofe  bright  dawn  of  genius  oft 
Smooth'd   my   incondite    verfe  ;    whole  friendly 

voice 

Call'd  me  from  giddy  fports  to  follow  him 
Intent  on  better  themes — call'd  me  to  talte 
The  charms  of  Britifli  long,  the  piehir'd  page 
Admire,  or  mark  his  imitative  (kill ; 
Or  with  him  range  in  folitary  (hades, 
And  fcoop  rude  grottos  in  the  (helving  bank. 
Such  were  the  joys  that  cheer'd  life's  early  morn ! 
Such  the  ftrong  fympathy  of  foul,  that  knit 
Our  hearts  congenial  in  iweet  amity  ! 
On  Cherwel's  banks,  by  kindred  fcience  nurs'd  ; 
And  well  matur'd  in  life's  advancing  ftage, 
When,  on  Ardenna's  plain,  we  fondly  ftray'd, 
With  mutual  truit,  and  amicable  thought; 
Or  in  the  focial  circle  gaily  join'd : 
Or  round  his  Leafowe's  happy  circuit  rov'd  ; 
On  hill,  and  dale  invoking  ev'ry  mule, 
J<!or  Tempe's  fliade,  nor  Aganippe's  fount 
Envied ;  fo  willingly  the  dryads  nurs'd 
His  groves;  fo  lib'rally  their cryftal  uri^s 
The  naiads  pour'd,  enchanted  with  their  fpells ; 
And  pleas'd  to  fee  their  overflowing  ftreams 
Led  by  his  hand,  in  many  a  mazy  line  ; 
Or,  in  the  copious  tide,  collected  large, 
Or  tumbling  from  the  rock,  in  fportive  falls, 
Now,  from  the  lofty  bank,  precipitate  ; 
And  now,  in  gentler  courfe,  with  murmurs  foft 
Soothing  the  ear  ;  and  now,  in  concert  join'd, 
Fall  above  fall,  oblique  and  intricate, 
Among  the  twitted  roots.     Ah  !  whilft  I  write, 
In  deeper  murmur  flows  the  fadcl'ning  ftream  ; 
Wither  the  groves;  and  from  the  beauteous  (cene, 
Its  foft  enchantments  fly.     No  more  far  me 
A  charm  it  wears,  fince  he  alas  !  is  gone, 
Whole  genius  plann'd  it,  and  whofe  fpirit  grac'd. 
Ah  '.  hourly  does  the  fatal  doom  pronounc'd 
Againft  rebellious  fin,  fome  focial  band 
Diflblve,  and  leave  a  thoufand  triends  to  weep, 
Soon  fuch  theoifslves,  as  thofe  they  now  lament  ! 
This  mournful  tribute  to  thy  mem'ry  paidl 
The  mufe  purfues  her  folitary  way; 
But  heavily  purfues,  fince  thou  art  gone, 
Whofe  counfel  brighten'd,  and  whofe  friendfhip 

(har'd 

The  pleafing  tafk.     Now  Bremicham  !  to  thee 
She  (leers  her  flight,  and,  in  thy  bufy  fcenes, 
Seeks  to  reftrain  a  while  the  ftarting  tear. 

Yet  ere  her  fong  defcribes  the  fmoky  forge, 
Or  founding  anvil,  to  the  dulky  heath 
Her  gentle  train  (lie  leads.     What,  though    no 

grain 

Or  herbage  iweet,  or  waving^woods  adorn 
Its  dreary  furface,  yet  it  bears  within 
A  richer  treafury.     So  worthy  minds 
Oft  lurk  beneath  a  rude  unfightly  form. 
More  haplefs  they  !  that  few  obferversfearch, 
Studious  to  find  this  intellectual  ore, 
And  (lamp  with  gen'rous  deed  its.  current  worth. 
Here  many  a  merchant  turns  adventurer, 
Encourag'd,  not  difgufted.     Intereft  thus, 
On  fordid  minds,  with  ftronger  impulfe  works, 
Than  virtue's  heav'nly  flame.     Yet  Providence 
Converts  to  gen'ral  u!e  man's  fcliilli  ends. 
Hence  are  the  hungry  fed,  the  naked  cloth'd, 
he  wint'ry  damps  difpell'd,  and  focial  mirth 


Exults,  and  glows  before  the  blazing  hearth. 

When  likely  ligns  th'  adveut'rous  fearch  invite,   ' 
A  cunning  artiit  tries  the  latent  foil: 
And  if  his  fubtle  engine,  in  return, 
A  brittle  mafs  contains  of  fable  hue, 
Strait  he  prepares  th*  obftrucling  earth  to  clear, 
And  raife  the  crumbling  rock.     A  narrow  pafs 
Once  made,  wide,  and  more  wide  the  gloomy  cave 
Stretches  its  vaulted  ides,  by  num'raus  hands 
Hourly  extended.     Some  the  pick-axe  ply, 
Loos'ning  the  quarry  from  its  native  bed. 
Some  waft  it  into  light.     Thus  the  grim  ore, 
Here  ufelefs,  like  the  mifer's  brighter  hoard, 
Is  from  its  prifon  bi ought,  and  fent  abroad, 
The  frozen  hours  to  cheer,  to  minifter 
To  needful  fuftenance  and  polilh'd  arts. 
Meanwhile  the  fubterraneous  city  fpreads 
Its  covert  ftreets,  and  echoes  with  the  noife 
Of  fwarthy  (laves,  and  instruments  of  toil. 
They,  fuch  the  force  of  cuftom's  pow'rful  laws '. 
Purfue  their  footy  labours,  destitute 
Of  the  fun's  cheering  light  and  genial  warmth. 
And  oft  a  chilling  damp,  or  unctuous  mift, 
Loos'd  from  the  crumbly  caverns,  iffues  forth, 
Stopping  the  fprings  ot'  life.     And  oft  the  flood, 
Diverted  from  its  courfe,  in  torrents  pours, 
Drowning  the  nether  world.   To  cure  thefe  ills 
Philofophy  two  curious  arts  fuppli.es, 
To  drain  th'  imprifon'd  air,  and,  in  its  place, 
More  pure  convey,  or,  with  impetuous  force, 
To  raife  the  gath'ring  torrents  from  the  deep. 
One  from  the  *  wind  its  faiutary  pow'r 
Derives,  thy  charity  to  fick'ning  crowds, 
From  cheerful  haunts,  and  nature'sbalmy  draughts 
C'mfin'd  ;  O  friend  of  man,  iliuftriousf  Hales*! 
That,  flrangcr  ftill  !  its  influence  owes  to  air  f, 
By  cold  and  heat  alternate  now  condens'd, 
Now  ratified  ||.     Agent !  to  vulgar  thought 
How  feeming  weak,  in  acl  how  pow'rful  feen  ! 
So  Providence,  by  inftruments  defpis'd, 
All  human  force,  and  policy  confounds. 

But  who  that  fiercer  element  can  rule  ? 
When,  in  the  nitrous  cave,  the  kindling  flame, 
By  pitchy  vapours  fed,  from  cell  to  cell, , 
With  fury  fpreads,  and  the  wiJe  fuell'd  earth, 
Arouncl  with  greedy  joy,  receives  the  blaze. 
By  its  own  entrails  nouriih'd,  like  thofe  mounts 
Vefuvian,  or  ./Etnean,  dill  it  waltes, 
And  (till  new  fuel  for  its  rapine  finds 
Exhauillefs.     Wretched  he  !  who  journeying1  late, 
O'er  the  parch'd  heath,  bewilder'd,  leeks  his  way, 
Oft  will  hisfnorting  (teed,  with  terror  (truck, 
His  wonted  fpeed  refute,  or  flart  afide, 
With  rifing  finoke,  and  ruddy  (lame  annoy'd. 
While,  at  each  (rep,  his  trembling   rider  q 
Appall'd  with  thoughts  of  bog,  or  cavernV.  jut, 
Or  treach'rous  earth,  fubfuling  where  they  tread, 
Tremendous  paflage  to  the  realms  ot  death  ! 
Yet   want   there    not    ev'n    here   lome    lucid 

fpots 
The  fmoky  fcene  to  cheor,  and  by  contraft, 

*  The  'ventilator. 

f  Dr.  Stephen  Hales.  • 

$  Tke  fire-engine. 

||  "  Denfat  erant  qux  rara  modo,  et  qnae  denfa 
'   relaxat." 


691$  TtfE   WORKS    OF   JAGO 

More  fair.  Such  Dartmouth's  cultivated  *  lawns  ! 
Himielf,  diitinguifh'd  more  with  ornament 
Of  cultur'd  manners,  and  fupernal  light ! 
Such  f  thine,  O  Bridguaan  '.  fuch — but  envious 

time 

Forbids  the  mufe  to  thefe  fair  fcenes  to  rove, 
Still  minding  her  of  her  unfinifh'cl  theme, 
From  ruffet  heaths,  and  fmould'ring  furnaces, 
To  trace  the  progrefs  of  thy  Itcely  arts, 
t  Q_iieen.of  the  founding  anvil !    Alton  j|,  thee, 
Ami  §  Edgbafton,  with  hofpi table  fliade, 
And  rural  pomp  invert.     O  !  warn  thy  fons; 
When,  for  a  time  their  labours  they  forget, 
Not  to  moleft  thefe  peaceful  folitudes. 
So  may  the  mailers  of  the  beauteous-fcene,     • 
Protect  thy  commerce,  and  their  toil  reward. 

Nor  does  the  barren  foil  conceal  alone 
The  fable  rock  inflammable.     Oft-times 
More  pond'rous  ore  beneath  its  furface  lies, 
Compact,  metallic,  but  with  earthy  parts 
Included.     Thefe  the  fmoky  kiln  conl'umes, 
And  to  the  furnace's  impetuous  rage 
Configns  the  folid  ore.     In  the  fierce  heat 
The  pure  diilblves,  the  clrofs  remains  behind. 
This  pufh'd  afide,  the  trickling  metal  flows 
Through  fecret  valves  along  the  channell'd  floor, 
AVhere  in  the  mazy  moulds  of  rigur'd  land, 
Anon  it  hardens.     Now  the  bufy  forge 
Reiterates  its  blows>  to  form  the  bar 
Large,  maffy,  ftrong.     Another  art  expands, 
Another  yet  divides  the  yielding  mafs 
To  many  a  taper  length,  fit  to  receive 
The  artift's  will,  and  take  its  deftin'd  form. 

Soon  o'er  thy  furrow'd  pavement,  Bremicham  ! 
Ride  the  loofe  bars  obftrep'rous ;  to  the  fons 
Of  languid  fenfe,  and  frame  too  delicate^, 
Harfh  noife  perchance,  but  harmony  to  thine. 

Inftant  innumerable  hands  prepare 
To  fliape,  and  mould  the  malleable  ore. 
Their  heavy  fides  th'  inflated  bellows  heave, 
Tugg'd  by    the  pulley'd  line,    and,   with    their 

blaft 

Continuous,  the  deeping  embers  roufe, 
And  kindle  into  life.     Strait  the  rough  mafs, 
Plung'd  in  the  blazing  hearth,  its  heat  contracts, 
And  glows  tranfparent.     Now,  Cyclopean  chief ! 
Quick  or.  the  anvil  lay  the  burning  bar, 
And  with  thy  Jufty  fellows,  on  its  (ides 
Imprefs  the  weighty  ftroke.    See,  how  they  ftrain 
The  fwelling  nerve,  and  lift  the  fmewy  ^[  arm 
In  meafur'd   time ;    while  with  their  clatt'ring 

blows, 

From  ftreet  to  ftrtet  the  propagated  found 
Increafing  echoes,  and,  on  ev'ry  fide, 
The  toitur'd  metal  fpreads  a  radiant  fliow'r. 

'Tis  noife,  and  hurry  all !  The  thronged  ftreet, 
The  clofe-pil'd  warehoufe,  and  the  buiy  fliopl 


*  Samhvell,  the  feat  of  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl 
of  Dartmouth. 

t  Caftle-Bromwick,  the  feat  of  Sir  Henry  Bridg- 
tnan,  Bart. 

i  Bremicham,  alia  sBirmingbatn. 

||  The/tat  of  Sir  Lifter  Holt,  Bart. 

§   The  feat  of  Sir  Henry  Gougb,  Bart. 
^  "  Illi  inter  fefe  magiia  vi  brachia  tollunt 

"Innumerum^eri'antquetenaciforcipeferrura." 

VIRG. 


With  nimble  ftroke  the  tinkling  hammers  move  ; 

While  flow,  and  weighty  the  vait  fledge  defcends, 

In  folemnbafs  refponlive,  or  apart. 

Or  focially  conjoin'd  in  tuneful  peal. 

The  rough  liie  "  grates  ;  yet  uleful  is  its  touch, 

As  fharp  corrofives  to  the  fchirrous  field, 

Or,  to  the  ttubborn  temper,  keen  rebuke. 

How  the  coarfe  metal  brightens  into  fame 
Shap'd  by  their  plaltic  hands !  what  ornament ! 
What  various  ufe  1  See  there  the  glitt'ring  knife 
Of  temper'd  edge  !    The  fcifi'ars'  double  fhatt, 
Ufeiefs  apart,  in  focial  union  join'd, 
Each  aiding  each  I  Emblem  how  beautiful 
Or  happy  nuptial  leagues  !   The  button  round, 
Flam  or  imbolt,  or  bright  with  fteely  rays  '. 
Or  oblong  buckle,  on  the  lacker'd  fhoe, 
With  pohlh'd  luftre,  bending  elegant 
Irs  fhapely  rim.     But  who  can  count  the  forms 
That  hourly  from  the  glowing  embers  rife, 
Or  Ihine  attractive  through  the  glitt'nng  pane, 
And  emulate  their  parent  tires?   what  art 
•f-  Can,  in  trje  fcanty  bounds  of  meafnr'd  verfe, 
Difplay  the  treai'ure  of  a  thoufand  mines 
To  wond'rous  lhapes  by  Itubborn  labour  wrought? 

Nor  this  alone  thy  praife.     Of  various  grains 
Thy  fons  a  compound  form,  and  to  the  rire 
Commit  the  precious  mixture,  if  perchance 
Some  glitt'ring  mafs  may  blefs  their  midnight 

toil, 

Or  glofly  varnifli,  or  enamel  fair, 
To  lhaine  the  pride  of  China  or  Japan. 
Nor  wanting  is  the  graver's  pointed  fiee!. 
Nor  pencil,  wand'ring  o'er  the  polilh'd  plare, 
With  giowLng  tints,  and  mimic  life  endued. 
Thine  too,  ot  graceful  form,  the  letter'd  type  ! 
The  friend  of  learnirig,  and  the  poet's  pride  ! 
Without  thee  what  avail  his  fplendid  aim?, 
And  midnight  labours  ?     Painful  drugery  ! 
And  pow'rlel's  effort '.  But  the  thought  of  thee 
Imprints  freflv  vigour  on  his  pant;ng  breaft, 
As  thou  ere  long  flialt  on  his  work  imprefs; 
And,  with  immortal  lame,  his  praife  repay. 

Hail,  native  Britiih  ore  !  of  thee  poH'efs'd, 
We  envy  not  Golconda's  fparklmg  mir.es, 
Nor  thine,  ljotofi  1  nor  thy  kindred  hi. Is, 
Teeming  with  gold.     What  ?  though  iu  outward 

form 

Lei's  fair  ?  not  let's  thy  worth.     To  thee  we  owe 
More  riches  than  Peruvian  mines  can  yield, 
Or  Montezuma's  crowded  magazines, 
And  palaces  could  boait, though  roof'd  with  gold. 
Splendid  barbarity  '.   and  rich  iliilrefs  ! 
Without  the  focial  arts  and  ufeful  toil ; 
That  polifli  life,  and  civilize  the  rnind  !• 
Thefe  are  thy  gifts,  which  gold  can  never  buy. 

Thine  is  the  praife  to  cultivate  the  foil; 
To  bare  its  inmoft  ftrata  to  the  fun  ; 
To  break  and  meliorate  the  (tiffen'd  clay, 
And  from  its  dole  confinement,  fet  at  large 
Its  vegetative  virtue.     Thine  it  is 


*  "  Turn  ferri  rigor,  et  argutce  lamina  ferrae, 
"  Turn  varise  veriere  artes,  See." 

VIRG. 
f   "  Sed  neqae  quam  multffi  fpecies,  nee  nomina 

"  quse  fint, 

"  £ft  numerus :  neque  enim  numero  compren-- 
"  dere  refert." 


POEMS. 


697 


The  with'ring  hay,  and  ripen'd  grain  to  flieer, 
And  waft  the  joyous  harvclt  round  the  land. 

Go  now,  and  fee,  if,  to  the  Silver's  edge, 
The  reedy  (talk  will  yield  its  bearded  ftore, 
In  weighty  flicafs.     Or  if  the  Ihibborn  marie, 
In  fidelong  rows,  \vitheafy  force  will  rife 
Before  the  filvcr  plowfhare's  glitt'ring  point. 
Or  wou'd  your  gen'rous  hories  tread  more  fife 
On  plated  gold  i  Your  wheels,  with  fwifter  force 
On  golden  axles  move  ?  Then  grateful  own, 
Britannia's  fous  !   Heav'n's  providential  love, 
That  gave  you  real  wealth,  not  wealth  in  fhow, 
Whofe  price  in  bare  imagination  lies, 
And  artificial  compact.     Thankful  ply 
Your  iron  arts,  and  rule  the  vanquifh'd  world. 

Hail,  native  ore  !  without  thy  pow'rful  aid, 
We  ftill  had  hVd  in  huts,  with  the  green  fod, 
And  broken  branches  roof'd.     Thine  is  the  plane, 
The  chiffel  thine ;  which  fhape   the  well-arch'd 

dome, 
The  graceful  portico ;  and  fculptur'd  walls. 

Wou'd  ye  your  coarfe,  unfightly  mines  exchange 
For  Mexiconian  hills  ?  to  tread  on  g«ld, 
As  vulgar  land  ?  with  naked  limbs  to  brave 
The  cold,  bleak  air  ?  to  urge  the  tedious  chafe, 
By  painful  hunger  flung,  with  artlefs  toil, 
Through  gloomy  forefts,  where  the  founding  axe, 
To  the  fun's  beam,  ne'er  op'd  the  cheerful  glade, 
Nor  culture's  healthful  face  was  ever  fecn  ! 
In  fqualid  huts  to  lay  your  weary  limbs, 
Bleeding,  and  faint,  and  ilrangers  to  the  blifs 
Of  home-felt  eafe,  which  Britifh  fwains  can  earn, 
"With  a  bare  fpade  ;  but  ill  alas !  cou'd  earn, 
Willi  fpades  of  gold  ?  Such  the  poor  Indian's  lot ! 
Who  Itnrves  'midft  gold,  like   mifers  o'er  their 

bags; 

Not  with  like  guilt !  Hail,  native  Britifh  ore ! 
For  thine  is  trade,  that  with  its  various  flores, 
Sails  round  the  world,  and  vifits  ev'ry  dime, 
And  makes  the  treafures  of  each  clime  her  own, 
By  gainful  commerce  of  her  woolly  vefts, 
Wrought  by  the  fpiky  comb  ;  or  fteely  wares, 
From  the  coarfe  mafs,  by  ftubborn  toil,  refiu'd. 
Such  are  thy  peaceful  gifts !     And  war  to  thee 
Its  beft  fnpport,  and  deadlieft  horror  owes, 
The  glitt'ringfaulchion,and  the  thund'ring  tube! 
At  whole  tremendous  gleam,  and  vollcy'd  fire, 
Barbarian  kings  fly  from  their  ufelefs  hoards, 
And  )  icid  them  all  to  thy  fuperior  pow'r. 

BOOK  IV. 
EVENING. 

ARGUMENT. 

EVENING  walkalcng  the  hill  to  the  N.  E.  point- 
Scene  from  thence.  Daffet  Hills.  Farnborough. 
Wormleighton.  Shuekburg.  Leauie  and  Ichene 
Places  near  thofc  two  rivers.  Bennones,  or 
High-Crofs.  Fofs-Way.  Watling-Street.  In 
land  navigation.  Places  of  note.  Return.  Pane 
gyric  on  the  country.  The  fcene  moralized. 
Though  beautiful,  yet  tranfient.  Change  by 
approach  of  winter.  Of  ftorms  and  peflilentia: 
feafons.  Murrain.  Rot  amonglt  the  fheep 
General  thouj^.ts  on  the  vanity  and  diforders  01 
human  life.  .Uuule  of  Edge-Hill.  Reflections, 
CpDclufion. 


N  purple  veftmsnts  clad,  the  temper'd  fey 

invites  us  from  our  hofpitable  roof, 

To  tafte  her  influence  mild ;  while  to  the  weft 

The  jocund  fun  his  radiant  chariot  drives, 

With   rapid  courfe,   untirM.      Ye  nymphs  and 

fwains ! 

Now  quit  the  fhade,  and,  with  recruited  ftrength, 
Along  the  yet  untrodden  terrace  urge 
Your  vig'rous  fteps.     With  moderated  heat, 
And  ray  oblique,  the  fun  (hall  not  o'erpow'r, 
But  kindly  aid  your  yet  unfinifh'd  fearch. 

Not  after  fabk  night,  in  filence  hufh'd, 
More  welcome  is  th'  approach  of  op'ning  morn, 
"  With  fong  of  early  birds,'.'  than  true  frefh  breeze 
Of  foften'd  air  fucceeding  fultry  heat, 
And  the  wild  tumult  of  the  buzzing  day. 

Nor  think,  though  much  is  pail,  that  nought 

remains, 

Or  nought  of  beauty,  or  attractive  worth, 
Save  what  the  morning-fun,  or  noon-tide  ray, 
Hath,  with  his  rifing  beam,  diftiniftly  mark'd, 
Or  more  confus'dly,  with  meridian  blaze, 
Dazz'ling  difplay'd  imperfed.     Downward  he 
Shall  other  hills  illumine  oppofite, 
And  other  vales  as  beauteous  as  the  paft ; 
Suggefting  to  the  mufe  new  argument, 
And  frefh  inftrucftion  for  her  clofing  lay. 

There  Daffet's  ridgy  mountain  courts  the  fong. 
Scarce  Malvern  boalts  his  adverfe  boundary 
More  graceful.     Like  the  tempeft-driven  wave, 
Irregularly  great,  his  bare  tops  brave 
The  winds,  and,  on  his  fides,  the  fatt'ning  ox 
Crops  the  rich  verdure.     When  at  Hafting's  field, 
The  Norman  conqueror  akingdem  won 
In  this  fair  ifle,  and  to  another  race 
The  Saxon  pow'r  transferr'd  ;  an  alien  *  lord, 
Companion  of  his  toil !  by  fov'reign  grant, 
Thele  airy  fields  obtain'd.     Now  the  tall  mount, 
By  claim  more  juft,  a  nobler  mafter  owns ; 
To  tyrant  force,  and  flavifh  laws  a  foe. 
But  happier  land--,  near  Oufe's  reedy  fhojje, 
(What  leifure  ardent  love  of  public  weal 
Permits  his  care  employ ;  where  nature's  charms 
With  learned  art  combm'd  ;  the  richeft  domes, 
And  faireft  lawns,  adorn'd  with  ev'ry  grace 
Of  beauty,  or  magnificent  defign, 
By  Cobham's  eye  approv'd,  or  Grenville  plann'd, 
The  villas  of  imperial  Rome  outvie  ; 
And  form  a  fcene  of  ftatclier  pomp — a  Stowe. 
Her  walls  the  living  boaft,  thefe  boaft  the  dead, 
Beneath  their  roof,  iu  facred  dull  entomb'd. 
Lie  light,  O  earth  !  on  that  illuftrinus  Dame  f, 
Who,  iVom  her  own  prolific  womb  dersv'd, 
To  people  thy  green  orb,  fuccefilve  faw 
Sev'n  times  an  hundred  births     A  goodlier  train ! 
Than  that,  with  which  the  patriarch  journey'd  erft 
From  Padan-Aram,  to  the  iVIamrean  plains  : 
Or  that  more  numerous,  which  with  large  increafe, 
At  Joi'eph's  call,  in  wond'rous  caravans, 
Reviving  fight  !  by  Heaven's  decree  prepar'd, 
He  led  to  Golhen,  Egypt's  fruitful  foil. 
Where  the  tall  pillar  lifts  its  taper  head, 

»  TbeEarlof.Mellent. 

•j-  Dame  Hejler  Temple,  of  ivbom  this  Is  recorded  by 
Fuller,  in  Us  account  of  Buc]eiugbamp3iret  and  iub» 
lies  burled^  "with  many  ef  tbat  ancient  family  ^  in  the 
ftirijb-cburch  of  Burton-DaJJet. 


THE   WORKS   OF  JAGO. 


Her  fpacious  terrace,  and  furrounding  lawns, 
Deckt  with  no  fparing  coft  of  planted  tufts, 
Or  ornamented  building,  *  Farnborough  boafls. 
Hear  they  her  matter's  call  ?  in  fturdy  troops, 
The  jocund  labourers  hie,  and,  at  his  nod, 
A  thoufand  hands  or  fmooth  the  flanting  hill, 
Or  fcoop  new  channels  for  the  gath'ring  flood, 
And,  in  his  pleafures,  find  fubftantial  blifs. 

Nor  fhail  thy  verdant  paftnres  be  unfung 
•}•  Wormleighton  !  erft  th'  abode  of  Spenfer's  race, 
Their  title  now  !  What  ?  though  in  height  thou 
To  DafTL't,  not  in  fweet  luxuriance  [yield'ft 

Of  fatt'ning  herbage,  or  of  rifing  groves ; 
Beneath  whofe  (hade  the  lufty  fleers  repofe 
Their  cumbrous  limbs,  rhixt  with  the  woolly  tribes, 
And  leifurely  concoct  their  graffy  meal.      [plays ; 

Her  wood-capt  fummit  i;  Shuckburgh  there  dif- 
Nor  fears  neglect,  in  her  own  worth  fecure, 
And  glorying  in  the  name  her  mafter  bears. 
Nor  will  her  fcenes,  with  clofer  eye,  furvey'd, 
Fruftrate  the  fearcher's  toil,  if  fteepy  hills, 
By  frequent  chafms  disjoin'd,  and  glens  profound, 
And  broken  precipices,  vaft,  and  rude 
Delight  the  lenfe ;  or  nature's  lefler  works, 
Though  lefler,  not  lei's  fair  !  or  native  ftone, 
Or  fifh,.the  little  j|      ftroit's  doubtful  race, 
Por  ftarry  rays,  and  pencii'd  fhades  admir'd  ! 
Jnvite  him  to  thefe  fields,  their  airy  bed. 

Where  Leame  and  Ichene  own  a  kindred  rife, 
And  hafle  their  neighb'ring  currents  to  unite, 
New  hills  arife,  new  paftures  green,  and  fields 
"With  other  harvefts  crown'd ;  with  other  charms 
Villas,  and  towns  with  other  arts  adorn'd. 
There  Ichington  its  downward  ftrudures  views 
In  Ichene's  paffing  wave,  which,  like  the  mole, 
Her  fubterraneous  journey  long  purfues, 
Ere  to  the  fun  fhe  gives  her  lucid  ftream. 
Thy  villa,  §  Leamington  !  her  fifter  nymph 
In her  fair  bofom  fhows;  while  on  her  banks, 
As  further  fhe  hef  liquid  courfe  purfues, 
Amidft  furrounding  woods  his  ancient  walls 
J  Birb'ry  conceals,  and  triumphs  in  the  fhade.    • 

Not  fuch  thy  lot,  O  **  Bourton  !  Nor  from  fight 
Retireft  thou,  but  with  complacent  fmile, 
Thy  focial  afpect  courts  the  diftant  eye, 
And  views  the  diftant  fcene  reciprocal, 
Delighting,  and  delighted.     Bulky  heaths 
Succeed,  as  oft  to  mirth,  the  gloomy  hour ! 
Leading  th'  unfinifh'd  fearch  to  thy  fam'd  feat 
ff  Bennones !  where  two  military  ways 
Each  other  crofs,  tranfverfe  from  fea  to  fea, 
The  Roman's  hoftile  paths!  Thereof  Newnham's 

walls 

With  graceful  pride  afcend,  th'  inverted  pile 
In  her  clear  ftream,  with  flow'ry  margin  grac'd, 


*   The  f  cat  of  William  Holbech,  Efq. 
f  An  ejlate,  and  ancient  feat,  belonging  to  the  Right 
Jlon.  Earl  Spcnfcr. 

|  ThtfeatofSirCh.Shtictbiirgh,  Bart. 
||    The  AJlroits,  or  Star-fanes,  found  here.' 
§    The  feat  of  Sir  William  Wheeler ;  Bart. 
«   TbefcatofSirTbeophilusBiddulph,  Bart. 
,'     **    The  feat  »f  John  Shuckburgh,  Efq. 

•J-f  A  Roman  Ration,   -where  the  Fofi-way  andWat- 
ling-Jlreet  crofs  each  other. 
'  if  fbe  feat  of.  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Denbigh. 


Admiring.     *  Newbold  there  her  modeft  charms 
More  bafhfully  unveils,  with  folemn  woods, 
And  verdant  glades  enamour'd.    Here  her  lawns, 
And  rifing  groves  for  future  flicker  form'd, 
Fair  f  Coton  wide  difplays.     There  Addifon, 
With  mind  ferene,  his  moral  theme  revolv'd, 
Inftrudtion  drefs'd  in  learning's  faireft  form  ! 
The  gravefl  wifdom  with  the  livelieft  wit 
Attemper'd  !  or,  beneath  thy  roof  retir'd 
O  i;  Bilton  much  of  peace,  and  liberty 
Sublimely  mus'd,  on  Britain's  weal  intent, 
Or  in  thy  fhade  the  coy  Pierians  woo'd. 

Another  theme  demands  the  varying  fong. 
Lo  !  where  but  late  the  flocks,  and  heifers  graz'd, 
Or  yellow  harvefts  wav'd,  now  through  the  vale, 
Or  o'er  the  plain,  or  round  the  flanting  hill 
A  glitt'ring  path  attracts  the  gazer's  eye, 
Where  footy  barques  purfue  their  liquid  track 
Through  lawns,  and  woods,  and  villages  remote 
From  public  haunt,  which  wonder  as  they  pafs. 
The  channell'd  road  ftill  onward  moves,  and  ftill 
With  level  courfe,  the  flood  attendant  leads. 
Hills,  dales  oppofe  in  vain.     A  thoufand  hands 
Now  through  the  mountain's  fide  a  pafiage  ope, 
Now  with  ftupendous  arches  bridge  the  vale, 
Now  over  paths,  and  rivers  -urge  their  way 
Aloft  in  air.     Again  the  Roman  pride 
Beneath  thy  fpacious  camp  embatteU'd  hill, 
O  ||  Brinklow  !'  feems  with  gentler  arts  return'd. 
But  Britain  now  no  bold  invader  fears, 
No  foreign  aid  invokes.     Alike  in  arts 
Of  peace,  or  war  renown'd.     Alike  in  both 
She  rivals  ancient  Rome's  immortal  fame. 

Still  villas  fair,  and  populous  towns  remain— 
Polefworth,  and  Atherfione,  and  Eaton's  walls 
To  charity  devote  !  and  Tamvvorth,  thine 
To  martial  fame !  and  thine,  O  §  Merival ! 
Boafting  thy  beauteous  woods,  and  lofty  fcite ! 
And  f  Colefhill !  long  for  momentary  date 
Of  human  life,  though  for  our  wifhes  fhort, 
Repofe  ofDigby's  honourable  age!  [way 

Nor  may  the  mufe,  though  on  her  homeward 
Intent,  fhort  fpace  refufe  his  alleys  green, 
And  decent  walls  with  due  refpecl  to  greet 
**  On  Blythe's  fair  ftream,  to  whofe  laborious  toil 
She  many  a  leffon  owes,  his  painful  fearch 
Enjoying  without  pain,  and,  athtreal'e, 
With  equal  love  of  native  foil  infpir'd, 
Singing  in  meafur'd  phrafe  her  country's  fame. 

ft  Nor,  Arbury  !  may  we  thy  fcenes  foi  get, 
Haunt  of  the  naiads    and  each  woodland  nymph ! 

*    The  feat  of  Sir  Frances  Slipivith,  Bart. 

f    The  feat  of  Dixivell  Grime,,  Efq. 

\    The  feat  of  the  Right  Hon.  Jofefh  AJJifon,  Efq. 

||  The  canal  deigned  for  a  communication  betiveen  the 
cities  of  Oxford  and  Coventry,  pctjj~ei  through  Brink- 
IOTV,  ivhere  is  a  magnifcent  aqueduB,  confijling  of 
i-weltre  arches,  -with  a  high  bank  of  earth  at  each  ein/t 
crojpng  a  valley  beneath  the  veftiges  of  a  Reman  campy 
and  tumulus  on  the  Fofs-Way. 

§  The  feat  of  the  late  Edward  Stratford,  Efq.  an 
extenfi-oe  vie-w  to  Charley  Forejl  and  Bof-n'orth  Field. 

^  Seat  of  the  late  Right  Hon.  Lord  Digky,  common 
ly  colled  the  good  Lord  I)igbv. 

**  Blythe  Hall,  the  feat  of  Sir  William  T>ugdal:tno-w 
belonging  to  Richard  GeaJ},  Efq. 

f  f  The  feat  of  Sir  Rodger  Netvdigate,  Bart.  memt:r 
of  Parliament  for  tie  U-iivtrfty  of  Oxford. 


POEMS. 


699 


Rejoicing  in  his  care,  to  whom  aclorn'd 
With  all  the  graces  which  her  fchools  expound, 
The  gowny  fon's  of  Ifis  trull  their  own, 
And  Britain's  weal.     Nor  lhall  thy  fplendid  walls, 
O  *  Pnckington  !  allure  the  niufe  in  vain. 
The  Goths  no  longer  here  their  empire  hold. 
The  fhaven-terrac'd  hill,  flope  above  Hope, 
And  high  impris'ning  walls  to  Belgia's  coaft 
Their  native  clime  retire. — In  formal  bounds 
The  long  canal  no  more  confines  the  ftreani 
Reluctant. — Trees  no  more  their  tortur'd  limbs 
Lament — no  more  the  long-negle&cd  fields, 
Like  outlaws  banifh'd  for  Ibme  vile  offence, 
Are  hid  from  fight — from  its  proud  refervoir 
Of  ampleft  (ize,  and  fair  indented  form, 
Along  the  channell'd  lawn  the  copious  ftream 
With  winding  grace  theftately  current  leads. 
The  channell'd  lawn  its  bounteous  ftream  repays, 
With  ever-verdant  banks,  and  cooling  (hades, 
And  wand'ring  paths,  that  emulate  its  courfe. 
On  ev'ry  fide  fpreads  wide  the  beauteouslcene, 
Aflcmblage  fair  of  plains,  and  hills,  and  woods, 
And  plants,  of  od'rous  fcent — plains^  hills,  and 

woods, 

And  od'rous  plants  rejoice,  and  fmiling  hail 
The  reign  of  nature,  while  attendant  art 
Submilfive  waits  to  cultivate  her  charms. 

Hail  happy  land  !  which  nature's  partial  fqjile 
Hath  rob'd    profufcly   gay !    whole  champaigns 
wide  [fwarm 

With  plenteous  harvefts  wave ;  whofe  paftures 
With  horned  tribes,  or  the  fheep's  fleecy  race  ; 
To  the  throng'd  fhambles  yielding  wholefome  food, 
And  various  labour  to  man's  active  powers, 
Not  lei's  benign  than  to  the  weary  reft. 
Nor  deftitute  thy  woodland  fcenes  of  wealth, 
Or  fylvan  beauty  !  there  the  lordly  fwain 
His  fcantier  fields  improves ;  o'er  his  own  realms 
Supreme,  at  will  to  fow  his  well-fenc'd  glebe, 
With  grain  fucceffive  ;  or  with  juicy  herbs, 
To  fwell  his  milky  kine  ;  or  feed,  at  eafe, 
His  flock  in  paftures  warm.     His  blazing  hearth, 
With  copious  fuel  heap'd,  defies  the  cold ; 
And  houfewife-arts  or  teaze  the  tangl'd  wool, 
Or,  from  the  diftaff's  hoard,  the  ductile  thread, 
With  fportive  hand  entice  ;  while  to  the  wheel 
The  fprightly  carol  join'd,  or  plaintive  fong 
Diffufe.  and  artlefs  fooths  th'  untutor'd  ear 
With  heart-felt  ftrains,  and  the  flow  tafk  beguiles. 

Nor  hath  the  fun,  with  lefs  propitious  ray, 
Shone  on  the  mafters  of  the  various  fcene. 
Witnefs  the  fplendid  train  !  illuftrious  names, 
That  claim  precedence  on  the  lifts  of  fame, 
Nor  fear  oblivious  time  !  enraptur'd  bards  ! 
Or  learned  fa ges!  gracing,  with  their  fame, 
Their  native  foil,  and  my  afpiring  verfe. 

Say,  now  my  dear  companions  !  for  enough 
Of  leifurc  to  defcriptive  fong  is  giv'n ; 
Say,  fhall  we,  ere  we  part,  with  moral  eye, 
The  fcene  review,  and  the  gay  profpecl:  dole 
With  obfervation  grave,  as  fober  eve 
Haftes  now  to  wrap  in  (hades  the  clofing  day  ? 
Perhaps  the  moral  ftrain  delights  you  not ! 
Perhaps  you  blame  the  mufe's  quick  retreat ; 
Intent  to  wander  ftill  along  the  plain, 
In  coverts  cool,  lull'd  by  the  murm'ring  ftream, 

*  The  fiat  of  tic  R'glit  Hen.  tie  Larltf  Aylt-fird. 


Or  gentle  breeze ;  while  playful  fancy  fkims, 
With  carelefs  wing,   the  fnrfaces  of  things : 
For  deep  refearch  too  indolent,  too  light 
For  grave  reflexion.     So  the  Syren  queen 
Tempted  Alcides,  on  a  flow'ry  plain, 
With  am'rous  blandilhment,  and  urg'd  to  waftc 
His  prime  inglorious:   but  fair  virtue's  form 
Refcu'd  the  yielding  youth,  and  fir'd  his  bread 
To  manly  toil,  and  glory's  well-earn'd  prize. 
O  !  in  that  dang'rous  feafon,  O  !  beware 
Of  vice,  envcnom'd  weed  !  and  plant  betimes 
The  feeds  of  virtue  in  th'  untainted  heart. 
So  on  its  fruit  th'  enraptur'd  mind  fhall  feaft, 
When,  to  the  fmiling  day,  and  mirthful  fcene 
Night's  folemn  gloom,  cold  winter's  chilling  blafls, 
And  pain,  and  licknefs,  and  old  age  fucceed. 
Nor  flight  your  faithful  guide,  my  gentle  train; 
But,  with  a  curious  eye,  expatiate  free      [theme, 
O'er   nature's  moral    plan.      Though   dark    the 
Though  formidable  to  the  fenfual  mind  ; 
Yet  fhall  the  mufe,  with  no  fictitious  aid, 
Infpir'd,  ftill  guide  you  with  her  friendly  voice, 
And  to  each  feeming  ill  fome  greater  good 
Oppole,  and  calm  your  lab'ring  thoughts  to  reft. 

Nature  herfelf  bids  us  be  ferious, 
Bids  us  be  wife  ;  and  all  her  works  rebuke 
The  ever-thoughtlefs,  ever-titt'ring  tribe. 
What  though  -her  lovely  hills,  and  valleys  fmile 
To-day,  in  beauty  dreft  ?  yet  ere  three  moons 
Renew  their  orb,  and  to  their  wane  decline, 
Ere  then  the  beauteous  landfcape  all  will  fade ; 
The  genial  airs  retire  ;  and  fhiv'ring  fwains 
Shall,  from  the  whiten'd  plain,  and  driving  ftonnj, 
Avert  the  fmarting  cheek,  and  humid  eye. 

So  fome  fair  maid  to  time's  devouring  rage 
Her  bloom  refigns,  and,  with  a  faded  look, 
Difgufts  her  paramour ;  unlefs  thy  charms, 
O  virtue  !  with  more  lafting  beauty  grace 
Her  lovelier  mind,  and  through  declining  age, 
Fair  deeds  of  piety,  and  modeft  worth, 
Still  flourifti,  and  endear lier  ftill  the  more. 

Nor  always  lafts  the  landfcape's  gay  attire 
Till  furly  winter  with  his  ruffian  blails, 
Benumbs  her  tribes,  and  diffipates  her  charms. 
As  ficknefs  oft  the  virgin's  early  bloom 
Spoils  immature,  preventing  hoary  age, 
So  blafts  and  mildews  oft  invade  the  fields 
In  all  their  beauty,  and  their  fummer's  pride. 
And  oft  the  fudden  fhow'r,  or  fweeping  *  ftorra  ] 
O'erflows  the  meads,  and  to  the  miry  glebe 
Lays  clofe  the  matted  grain  ;  with  awful  peal, 
While  the  loud  thunder  (hakes  a  guilty  world, 
And  forked  lightnings  cleave  the  fultry  fldes. 

Nor  does  the  verdant  mead,  or  bearded  field 
Alone  the  rage  of  angry  fides  fuftain. 
Oft-times  their' influence  dire  the  bleating  flock^ 
Or  lowing  herd  affails,  and  mocks  the  force 
Of  coftly  med'cine,  or  attendant  care. 
Such  late  the  wrathful  peftilence,  that  feiz'd 
In  paftures  far  rctir'd,  or  guarded  (tails, 
The  dew-lap'd  race  !  with  plaintive  lowings  they, 

*  "  Saepe  etiam  immenfum  cxlo  venit  agnem 

' "  aquarum, 

"  Et  faedam  glomerant  tempeftatem  imbribus  atris 
"  Collcclze  ex  alto  nubes ;  ruit  arduus  asther, 
"  Et  pluvia  ingenti  fata  l»ta,  boumque  laborcs 
"  'Diluit."  VIRO. 


THE   WORKS   OF   JAGO. 


And  heavy  eyes,  confefs'd  the  pois'nous  gale, 
And  drank  infection  in  each  breath  they  drew. 
Quick  through  their  veins  the  burning  fever  ran, 
And  from  their  noftrils  ftream'd  the  putrid  rheum 
Malignant ;  o'er  their  limbs  faint  languors  crept, 
And  ftupefaction  all  their  fenfes  bound. 
In  vain  their  mafter,  with  officious  hand, 
From  the  pil'dmow  the  fweeteft  lock  prefents; 
Or  anxioufly  prepares  the  tepid  draught 
Balfamic;  they  the  proffer'd  dainty  lothe, 
And  *  death  exulting  claims  his  deftin'dprey. 

Nor  feldom  f  coughs,  and  wat'ry  rheums  afflict 
The  woolly  tribes,  and  on  their  vitals  feize  ; 
Thinning  their  folds;  and,  with  their  mangled 

limbs, 

And  tatter'd  fleeces,  the  averted  eye 
Difgufting,  as  the  fqueamifh  traveller, 
With  long-fufpended  breath,  hies  o'er  the  plain. 
And  is  their  lord,  proud  man !  more  fafe  than 

they  ? 

More  privileg'd  from  the  deftroying  breath, 
That,  through  the  fecret  (hade,  in  darknefa  walks, 
Or  fmites  whole  pafturesat  the  noon  of  day  ? 
Ah!  ho,  death  mark'd  him  from  his  infant  birth: 
Mark'd  for  his  own,  and  with  envenom'd  touch, 
His  vital  blood  defil'd.     Through  all  his  veins 
The  fubtlc  poifon  creeps ;  compounded  joins 
Its  kindred  mafs  to  his  increafmg  bulk ; 
And,  to  the  rage  of  angry  elements, 
Betrays  his  victim,  poor  ill-fated  man  ; 
Not  furer  born  to  live,  than  born  to  die  ! 
In  what  a  fad  variety  of  forms 
Clothes  he  his  meflengers  ?  Deliriums  wild ! 
Inflated  dropfy  !  flow  containing  cough ! 
Jaundice,  and  gout,  and  ftone ;  convulfive  fpafms ; 
The  fhaking  head,  and  the  contracted  limb  ; 
And  ling'ring  atrophy,  and  hoary  age  ; 
And  fecond  childhood,  flack'ning  ev'ry  nerve, 
To  joy,  to  reafon,  and  to  duty  dead  ! 
I  know  thee^  who  thou  art,  offspring  of  Sin, 
And  Satan  !  nurs'd  in  hell,  and  then  let  loofe 
To  range,  with  thy  accurfed  train,  on  earth, 
When  man,  apoftate  man  !  by  Satan's  wiles, 
From  life,  from  blifs,  from  God,  and  goodnefs  fell ! 
Who  knows  thee  not  ?  who  feels  thee  not  within, 
Plucking  his  heart-ftrir.gs  ?  whom  haft  thoa  not 

robb'd 

Of  parent,  wife,  or  friend,  as  thou  haft  me  ? 
Glutting  the  grave  with  ever-crowding  gtiefts, 
And,  with  their  image,  fadd'ning  ev'ry  fcene, 
Lefs  peopled  with  the  living  than  the  dead  ! 

Through  populous  ftreets  the  never-ceafing  bell 
Proclaims,  witli  folemn  found,  the  parting  breath  ; 
Nor  feldom  from  the  village-tow'r  is  heard 
The  mournful  knell.     Alike  the  graffy  ridge, 
With  ofiers  bound,  and  vaulted  catacomb, 
His  fpoils  enclofe.     Alike  the  fimple  ftone, 
And  maufoleum  proud,  his  pow'r  attest, 

*  "  Hinc  Ixtis  vituli  vulgo  moriuntur  in  lierbis, 
*  E't  dukes  animas  plena  ad  prsfepia  reddunt."    . 

VlRG. 

•j-  ««  Non  tarn  creber  agens  hyemem  ruit  azthere 

turbo, 

'«  Quam  multae  pecudum  peftes,  nee  fingula  morbi 
"  Corpora  coripiunt,  fed  tota  aeftiva  repente 
«  Spemque,    gregemque   fimul,    cuc&amque  ab 

^  origine  gentem."  Via*. 


In  wretched  doggrel,  or  elab'rate  verfe. 

Perhaps  the  peafant's  humble  obfequies; 
The  flowing  fheet,  and  pall  of  rufty  hue, 
Alarm  you  not.     You  flight  the  iimple  throng ; 
And  for    the  nodding  plumes,    and  fcutcheon'd 

herfe, 

Your  tears  referve.  Then  mark,  o'er  yonder  plain. 
The  grand  proceflion  fuited  to  your  taftc. 
I  mock  you  not.     The  fable  purfuivants 
Proclaim   th'  approaching  ftate.    Lo!    now   the 

plumes!  [pear! 

The  nodding  plumes,  and  fcutchcon'd   herle  ap- 
And  clad  in  mournful  weeds,  a.  long  fad  train 
Of  flowly-moving  pomp,  that  waits  on  death! 
Nay — yet  another  melancholy  train  ! 
Another  triumph  of  the  ghaftly  fiend 
Succeeds !  'Tis  fo.     Perhaps  ye  have  not  heard 
The  mournful  tale.     Perhaps  no  meffenger 
Hath  warn'd  you  to  attend  the  folemn  deed  ! 
Then  from  the  mufc  the  piteous  ftory  learn  ; 
And,  with  her,  on  the  grave  proceffion  wait, 
That  to  their  early  tomb,  to  mould'ring  duft 
Ofance(tor%  that  crowd  thefcanty  vault, 
Near  which  our  fong  began,  *  Northampton  bears, 
The  gay  Northampton,  and  his  beauteous -j-  bride! 
Far  other  pageants  in  his  youthful  breaft 
He  cherifh'd,  while,  with  delegated  truft, 
On  ftately  ceremonials,  to  the  fhore, 
Where  Adria's  waves  the  fea-girt  city  lave, 
He  went ;  and  with  him,  join'd  in  recent  love, 
His  blooming  bride,  of  Beaufort's  royal  line, 
The  charming  Somerfet !  But  royal  blood, 
Nor  youth,  nor  beauty,  nor  employment  high, 
Could  grant  protection  from  the  rude  affault 
Of  that  barbarian  death  ,.  who,  without  form, 
To  courts  and  cottages  unbidden  comes; 
And  his  unwelcome  embafly  fulfils, 
Without  diftinction,  to  the  lofty  peer, 
The  graceful  bride,  or  peafant's  homely  race. 
Ere  frem  her  native  foil  fhe  faw  the  fun 
Run  half  his  annual  courfe,  in  Latian  climes, 
She  breath'd  her  laft  ;  him,  ere  that  courfe  was 

done, 

Death  met  returning  on  the  Gallic  plains, 
And  fent  to  join  her  yet  unburied  duft: 
Who  but  this  youthful  pair's  untimely  fate 
Muft  weep,  who  hut  in  theirs  may  read  their  own? 

Another  leffon  feek  ye,  other  proof 
Of  vanity,  and  lamentable  woe 
Betiding  man  ?    Another  fcenc  to  grace 
With  troops  of  victims  the  terrific  king, 
And  humble  wanton  folly's  laughing  fons  ? 
The  mufe  fhall  from  her  faithful  memory 
A  tale  felect ;  a  tale  big  with  the  fate 
Of  kings,  and  heroes  on  .this  now  fair  field 
Embattled  !  but  her  fong  fhall  to  your  view 
Their  ranks  embody,  and  to  future  peace 
Their  fierce  defigns  and  hoftile  rage  convert. 

Not  on  Pharfalia's  plain  a  bolder  jftrife 
Was  held,  though  twice  with  Roman  blood  di- 

ftain'd, 
Than  when  thy  fubjects,  firft  imperial  Charles ! 

*  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  nf  Northampton,  tubo 
died  on  his  return  from  an  embujjy  to  fenice,  •while  the 
author  ivas  "writing  this  po?m. 

f  The  'Right  Hon.'  the  Ceuntefs  of  Northampton, 
daughter  to  the  Duke  of  Beaufort. 


P    O    E 

Dar'd  in  thefe  fields  with  arms  their  caufe  to  plead. 
'  «  \Vhere  once  the  Romans  pitch'd  their  holtile 

tents, 

Other  Campanias  fair,  and  milder  Alps 
Exploring,  now  a  nobler  warrior  flood, 
His  country's  fov'reign  liege  !  Around  his  camp 
A  gallant  train  of  loftieft  rank  attend, 
By  loyalty  and  love  of  regal  fway 
•To  mighty  deeds  impcll'd.    Meanwhile  below 
Others  no  lefs  intrepid  courage  boaft, 
From  fource  as  fair,  the  love  of  liberty ! 
Dear  liberty  I  when  rightly  underftood, 
Prime  focial  blifs !  Oh  !  may  no  fraud 
Ufurp  thy  name,  to  veil  their  dark  defigns 
Of  vile  ambition,  or  licentious  rage  ! 

.Long  time  had  they,  with  charge  of  mutual 

blame, 

And  fierce  debate  of  fpeech,  difcordant  minds 
Avow'd,  yet  not  to  deip'rate  chance  of  war 
Till  now  their  caufe  refcrr'd  :  rude  arbiter 
Of  fit  and  right !  Unhappy  native  land ! 
Nought  then  avail'd  that  nature  form'd  thy  fields 
So  fair,  and  with  her  wat'ry  barrier  fenc'd ! 
Nought  then  avail'd  thy  forms  of  guardian  laws, 
The  work  of  ages,  in  a  moment  loft, 
And  ev'ry  focial  tie  at  once  diflblv'd ! 
For  now  no  more  fweet  peace,  and  order  fair, 
And  kindred  love  remain'd,  but  hoflile  rage 
Inftead,  and  mutual  jealoufy,  and  hate, 
And  tumult  loud !  nor,  hadil  thou  then  been  there, 
•f  O  Talbot !  could  thy  voice,  fo  often  heard 
On  heav'nly  themes  !  nor  \  his  fraternal!  fldll'd 
In  focial  claims,  the  limits  to  define 
Of  law  and  right,  have  calm'd  the  furious  ftrife, 
Or  ftill'd  the  rattling  thunder  of  the  field.  ' 

Acrofs  the  plain,  where  the  flight  eminence 
And  fcatter'd  hedge-rows  mark  a  midway  fpace 
To  yonder  !|  town,  once  deem'd  a  royal  court, 
Now  harbouring  no  friends  to  royalty  ! 
The  popular  troops  their  martial  lines  extend. 
High  on  the  hill  the  royal  banners  wave 
Their  faithful  fignals.    Rang'd  along  the  fteep, 
The  glitt'ring  files,  in  burnifh'd  armour  clad, 
Reflect  the  downward  fun,  and  with  its  gleam 
The  diftant  crowds  affright,  who  trembling  wait 
For  the  dire  oniet,  and  tie  dubious  fight. 
,   As  pent-up  waters,  fwell'd  by  fudden  rains, 
Their  former  bounds  difdain,  and  foam,  and  rage, 
Impatient  of  rcftraint,  till  at  fome  breach 
Outward  they  burft  impetuous,  and  mock 
The  peafant's  foeble  toil,  which  flrives  to' check 
Their  headlong  torrent ;  fo  the  royal  troops, 
With  martial  rage  inflam'd,  impatient  wait 
The  trumpet's  iummons.   At  its  fprightly  call 
The  airy  feat  they  leave,  and  down  the  fleef, 
Rank  following  rank,  like  wave  fucceeding  wave, 
Rufh  on  the  hoftile  wings.    Dire  was  the  fhock, 
Dire  was  the  claih  of  arms  !  The  hoftile  wings 
Give  way,  and  foon  in  flight  their  fafety  feek. 

*  A  Roman  camp  at  Warminpton.  on  lie  top  of 
E^-Hill. 

f   Tie  Rev.  Mr.  Talbct,  of  Kineton, 

{  Cb.  Henry  Talbat,  Efq.  of  Mar/ion,  at  lie  lot- 
torn  (*f  Edge- Hill. 

|j  Kineton,  alias  Kingttm.  So  called,  at  fome  con- 
jc£iure,from  a  csflle  on  a  neighbouring  bill^faiJ  to  lave 
b:tn  a  falate  belonging  to  King  ^shn. 

6 


M    S.  ?QI 

They  with  augmented  force  and  growing  rage 

The  flying  foe  purfuc.    But  too  fecure, 

And  counting  of  cheap  conqueft  quickly  gain'd 

O'er  daftard  minds,  in  wordy  quarrels  bold, 

But  flack  by  deeds  to  vindicate  their  claim, 

In  chafe  and  plunder  long  they  wafte  the  day, 

And  late  return,  of  order  negligent. 

Meanwhile  the  battle  in  the  centre  rag'd 

With  diff' n?nt~fortune,  by  bold  Kffex  led, 

Kxpericnc'd  chief!  and  to  the  monarch's  caufe, 

And  youthful  race,  for  martial  deeds  unripe, 

Menac'd  deftru6Hon.    In  the  royal  breaft 

High  paflions  rofe,  by  native  dignity 

Made  more  fublime,  and  urg'd  to  powerful  aft 

By  ftrong,  *  paternal  love,  and  proud  difdain 

Of  vulgar  mfnds,  arraigning  in  his  race 

The 'rights  of  fov'reignty,  from  ancient  kings 

In  order  fair  deriv'd.    Amidft  his  troops 

With  hafte  he  flies,  their  broken  ranks  reforms, 

To  bold  revenge  reanimates  their  rage, 

And  from  the  foe  his  fliort-liv'd  honour  wrefts. 

Now  death,  with  hafty  ftride,  (talks  o'er  the 

field, 

Grimly  exulting  in  the  bloody  fray. 
Now  on  the  crefted  helm  or  burning  fhield 
He  ftamps  new  horrors ;  no*w  the  levell'd  fword 
With  weightier  force  impels,  with  iron  hoof 
Now  tramples  on  th'  expiring  ranks,  or  gores 
The  foaming  fteed  againft  th'  oppofing  fpear. 
But  chiefly  on  the  cannon's  brazen  orb 
He  fits  triumphant,  and  with  fatal  aim 
Involves  whole  fquadrons  in  the  fulph'rous  florin. 

Then  \  Lindfey  fell,  nor  from  the  fheU'ring 

ft  raw 

Geas'd  he  to  plead  his  fov'reign's  flighted  caufe 
Amidft  furrounding  foes,  nor  but  with  life 
Expir'd  his  loyalty.    His  valiant  fon  \ 
Attempts  his  refcue,  but  attempts  in  vain  ! 
Then  |)  Verney  too,  with  many  a  gallant  knight, 
And  faithful  courtier,  anxious  for  thy  weal, 
Unhaupy  prince  !  but  mindlefs  of  their  own, 
Pour'd  out  his  life  upon  the  crimfon  plain. 
Then  fell  the  gallant  §  Stewart,  ^  Aubigny, 
**  And  Kingfmill !   He  whofe  monumental  ftone 
Protects  his  neighb'ring  afhes  and  his  fame. 

The  clofing  day  compos'd  the  furious  ftrife  j- 
But  for  ihort  time  compos'd  '.  anon  to  wake 
With  tenfold  rage,  and  fpread  a  wider  fcene 
Of  terror  and  Jeftrudtion  o'er  the  land  ! 

Now  mark  the  glories  of  the  great  debate! 
Yon  grafs-greeu  mount,  where  waves  the  planted 

pine, 
And  whifpers  to  the  winds  the  mournful  tale, 

*'  Prince  Charles,  afterwards  Kiug  Charles  II. 
and  bis  brother  the  Duke  of  Tork,  afteriuards 
King  James  II.  were  then  in  the  field,  the  former 
being  in  the  i$tb,  and  the  latter  jvjl  entered  iat» 
the  loth  year  of  his  age. 

\  Earl  of  Lindj'ey,  the  King's  general. 

\  Lord  '(Vjilougbby ,  fon  to  the  Earl  »f  Lindfey* 

§  Sir  Edmund  Verney,  Jlandard-bearer  to  the 
king. 

||  Lord  Stewart. 

^  Lord  Aubigny,  fon  to  tie  Duke  of  Lenox. 

'*  Captain  Kingfrnill,  buried  ut  Radway. 


THE    WORKS   OF   JAGO. 


Contains  them  in  its  monumental  mould  ; 

A  flaughter'd  crew,  promifcuous  lodg'd  below  ! 

Still  as  the  ploughman  breaks  the  clotted  glebe, 

He  ever  and  anon  fome  traphy  finds, 

The  *  relics  of  the  war — or  rufty  fpear, 

Or  canker'd  ball ;  but  from  fepulchral  foil 

Cautious  he  turns  afide  the  mining  fteel, 

Left  haply  at  its  touch  uncover'd  bones 

Should  ft  art  to  view,  and  blaft  his  rural  toil. 

Such  were  the  fruits  of  paflion,  fro  ward  will, 
And  unfubmitting  pride  !  Worfe  ftorms  than  thofe 
That  rend  the  Iky,  and  wafte  our  cultur'd  fields  ! 
Strangers  alike  to  man's  primeval  ftate, 
Ere  evil  entrance  found  to  this  fair  world, 
Permitted,  not  ordain'd,  whatever  pride 
May  dream  of  order  in  a  world  of  fin, 
Or  pre-exiftent  foul,  and  penal  doom 
For  crimes  unknown.  More  wife,  more  happy  he ! 
Who  in  his  breaft  oft  pond'ring,  and  perplex'd 
With  endlefs  doubt,  and  learning's  fruitlefs  toil, 
His  weary  mind  at  length  repofes  fure 
On  Heav'n's  attefted  oracles.    To  them 
Submifs  he  bows,  convinc'd,  however  weak 
His  reafon  the  myfterious  plan  to  folve, 
That  all  he  wills  is  right,  who,  ere  the  worlds 
"Were  form'd,  in  his  all-corn prehenfive  mind 
Saw  all  that  was,  or  is,  or  e'er  fhall  be. 
Who  to  whate'er  exifts,  or  li\res,  or  moves. 
Throughout  creation's  wide  extent,  gave  life, 
Gave  being,  pow'r,  and  thought  to  adl,  to  move 
Impelling,  or  impell'd,  to  all  ordain'd 
Their  ranks,  relations,  and  dependencies, 
And  can  direct,  fufpend,  controul  their  pow'rs, 
Elfe  were  he  not  fupreme  !  Who  bids  the  winds 
Be  ftill,  and  they  obey ;  who  to  the  fea 
Affigns  its  bounds,  and  calms  its  boifterous  waves ; 
Who,  with  like  eafe,  can  mor,al  difcord  rule, 
And  all  apparent  evil  turn  to  good. 

Hail  then,  ye  fons  of  Eve  !  th'  unerring  guide, 
The  fovereign  grant  receive,  fin's  antidote  ! 
A  cure  for  all  our  griefs !  So  heav'nly  truth 
Shall  wide  difplay  her  captivating  charnls, 
And  peace  her  dwelling  fix  with  human  race. 
So  love  through  ev'ry  ciime  his  gentle  reign 
Shall  fpread,  and  at  his  call  difcordant  realms 
Shall  beat  their  fwords  to  ploughfhares,  and  their 

fpears 

To  pruning-hooks,  nor  more  learn  murd'rous  war. 
So  when  revolving  years,  by  Heav'n's  decree, 
Their  circling  courfe  have  run,  new  firmaments, 
With  bleffings  fraught,  fliall  fill  the  bright  ex- 

panfe, 

Of  tempefts  void,  and  thunder's  angry  voice. 
New  verdure  fliall  arife  to  clothe  the  fields; 
New  Edens,  teeming  with  immortal  fruit. 
No  more  the  wing'd  inhabitants  of  air, 
Or  thofe  that  range  the  fields,  or  (kirn  the  flood, 
Their  fiercenefs  (hall  retain,  but  brute  with  brute, 
And  all  with  man  in  amicable  league 
Shall  join,  and  enmity  for  ever  ceafe. 

*  "  Scilicet  .et  tempus  veniet,  cum  finibus  illis, 
"  Agricola  incurvo  terram  molitus  aratro, 
"  Exefa  inveniet  fcabra  rubigine  pila, 
"  Aut  gravibus  raftris  galeas  pulfabit  inanes, 
*  Grandiaque  effoffis  mirabitur  offa  fepul- 
*!  Chris." 


Remains  there  aught  to  crown  the  rapt'rouf 

theme  ? 

'Tis  this,  unfading  joy  beyond  the  reach 
Of  elemental  worlds  and  ihort-liv'd  time. 
This  too  is  yours— from  outward  fenfe  conceal'd, 
But,  by  refemblance  of  external  things, 
Inward  difplay'd,  to  elevate  the  foul 
To  thoughts  fublime,  and  point  her  way  to  heav'n. 

So,  from  the  top  of  Nebo's  lofty  mount, 
The  patriot  leader  of  Jehovah's  fons 
The  promis'd  land  furvey'd  ;  to  Canaan's  rate 
A  fpk-ndid  theatre  of  frantic  joys, 
And  fatal  mirth,  beyond  whofe  fcanty  bounds 
Darkneis  and  horror  dwell  1  Emblem  to  him 
Of  fairer  fields  and  happier  feats  above  ! 
Then  clos'd  his  eyes  to  mortal  fcenes,  to  wake 
In  the  bright  regions  of  eternal  day.  . 

LABOUR  AND  GENIUS; 

OR,  THE  MILL-STREAM  AND  THE  CASCADE. 
A  FABLE. 

Infcribed  to  William  Sbenftone,  Efq. 
"  difcordia  femina  rerum."       OVID. 

NATURE  with  lib'ral  hand  difpenfes 

Her  apparatus  of  the  fenfes, 

In  articles  of  gen'ral  ufe, 

Nerves,  finews,  mufcles,  bones  profufe. 

Diftinguifhing  herfav'rite  race 

With  form  erecT:,  and  featur'd  face  ; 

The  flowing  hair,  the  polith'd  fkin— 

But,  for  the  furniture  within,  '^, 

Whether  it  be  of  brains  or  lead, 

What  matters  it,  fo  there's  a  head  ? 

For  wifeft  noddle  feldom  goes, 

But  as  'tis  led  by  corp'ral  nofe. 

Nor  is  it  thinking  much,  but  doing, 

That  keeps  our  tenements  from  ruin. 

And  hundreds  eat,  who  fpin  or  knit, 

For  one  that  lives  by  dint  of  wit. 

The  fturdy  threfher  plies  his  flail, 
And  what  to  this  doth  wit  avail  ? 
Who  learns  from  wit  to  prefs  the  fpade  ? 
Or  thinks  'twould  mend  the  cobler's  trade  ? 
The  pedlar,  with  his  cumb'rous  pack, 
Carries  his  brains  upon  his  back. 
Some  wear  them  in  full-bottom^  wig, 
Or  hang  them  by  with  queue  or  pig. 
Reduc'd,  till  they-rcturn  again 
In  difhabille,  to  common  men. 
Then  why,  my  friend,  is  wit  fo  rare  ? 
That  fudden  flafh,  that  makes  one  ftare  \ 
A  meteor's  blaze,  a  dazzling  fliow  1 
Say  what  it  is,  for  well  you  know. 
Or,  if  you  can  with  patience  hear 
A  witlefs  fable,  lend  an  ear. 

BETWIXT  two  doping  verdant  hills 
A  current  pour'd  its  carelefs  rills, 
Which  unambitious  crept  along, 
With  weeds  and  matted  grafs  o'erhung. 
Till  rural  genius,  on  a  day, 
Chancing  along  its  banks  to  flray, 
Remark'd,  with  penetrating  look, 
The  latent  merits  of  the  brook, 


POEMS. 


Much  griev'd  to  fee.  fuch  talents  hid, 
And  thus  the  dull  by-ftanders  chid. 

How  blind  is  man's  incurious  race 
The  fcope  of  natsre's  plans  to  trace  ? 
How  do  ye  mangle  half  her  charms, 
And  fright  her  hourly  with  alarms? 
Disfigure  now  her  fwelling  mounds, 
And  now  contract  her  fpacious  bounds  ? 
Fritter  her  faireft  lawns  to  alleys, 
Bare  her  green  hills,  and  hide  her  valleys  ? 
Confine  her  ftreams  with  rule  and  line, 
And  counteract  her  whole  de.fign  ? 
Neglecting,  where  flie  points  the  way, 
Her  eafy  dictates  to  obey? 
To  bring  her  hidden  worth  to  fight, 
And  place  her  charms  in  faireft  light  ? 

Alike  to  intellectuals  blind, 
'Tis  thus  you  treat  the  youthful  mind  ; 
Miftaking  gravity  for  feni'e, 
Tor  dawn  of  wit,  impertinence. 

The  boy  of  genuine  parts  and  merit, 
For  fome  unlucky  prank  of  fpirit, 
With  frantic  rage  is  fcourg'd  from  fchool, 
And  branded  with  the  name  of  fool, 
Becaufe  his  active  blood  flow'd  fatter 
Than  the  dull  puddle  of  his  mafter. 
While  the  flow  plodder  trots  along 
Through  thick  and  thin,  through  profe  and  fong, 
Infenfibk  of  all  their  graces, 
But  learn'd  in  words  and  common  phrafes ; 
Till  in  due  time  he's  mov'd  to  college, 
To  ripen  thefe  choice  feeds  of  knowledge. 

So  fome  tafte-pedant,  wond'rous  wife, 
Exerts  his  genius  in  dirt-pies. 
Delights  the  tonfile  yew  to  raife, 
But  hates  your  laurels  and  your  bays, 
Becaufe  too  rambling  and  luxuriant, 
Like  forward  youths,  of  brain  too  prurient. 
Makes  puns  and  anagrams  in  bex, 
And  turns  his  trees  to  bears  and  cocks. 
Excels  in  quaint  jette-d'eau  or  fountain, 
Or  leads  his  ftream  acrofs  a  mountain* 
To  (how  its  fhallownefs  and  pride, 
In  a  broad  grin,  on  t'other  fide. 
Perverting  all  the  rules  of  fenfe, 
Which  never  offers  violence, 
But  gently  leads  where  nature  tends, 
Sure  with  applaufe  to  gain  its  ends. 

But  one  example  may  teach  more 
Than  precepts  hackney'd  o'er  and  o'er. 
Then  mark  this  rill,  with  weeds  o'erhung, 
Unnotic'd  by  the  vulgar  throng  ! 
Ev'n  this,  conducted  by  my  laws, 
Shall  rife  to  fame,  attract  applaufe ; 
Inftrudt  in  *  fable,  fhine  in  fong, 
And  be  the  theme  of  ev'ry  tongue. 
He  faid  :  and  to  his  fav'rite  fon 
Confign'd  the  talk,  and  will'd  it  done. 

Damon  his  counfel  wifely  weigh'd, 
And  carefully  the  fccne  furvey'd. 
And,  though  it  feems  he  faid  but  little, 
He  took  his  meaning  to  a  tittle. 

*  See  Fable  XLI.  and  LI.  in  DoJ/Ity's  new  in 
vented  Fables ,  and  many  little  fieees  frinttd  in  the  pub 
lic  fafers. 


And  firft,  his  purpofe  to  befriend, 
A  bank  he  rais'd  at  th'  upper  end : 
Compact  and  clofe  its  outward  fide, 
To  ftay  and  fwell  the  gath'ring  tide : 
But  on  its  inner,  rough  and  tall, 
A  ragged  cliff,  a  rocky  wall. 
The  channel  next  he  op'd  to  view, 
And  from  its'ccurfe  the  rubbim  drew. 
Enlarg'd  it  now,  and  now  with  line 
Oblique,  purfu'd  his  fair  defign. 
Preparing  here  the  mazy  way, 
And  there  the  fall  for  fportive  play; 
The  precipice  abrupt  and  fteep, 
The  pebbled  road,  and  cavern  deep ; 
The  rooty  feat,  where  beft  to  view 
The  fairy  fcene,  at  diftance  due. 
He  lail  invok'd  the  dryads  aid, 
And  fring'd  the  borders  round  with  {hade. 
Tap'flry,  by  nature's  fingers  wove, 
No  mimic,  but  a  real  grove : 
Part  hiding,  part  admitting  day, 
The  fcene  to  grace  the  future  play. 

Damon  perceives,  with  ravifh'd  eyes, 
The  beautiful  enchantment  rife. 
Sees  fweetly  blended  {hade  and  light; 
Sees  ev'ry  part  with  each  unite  ; 
Sees  each,  as  he  directs,  affume 
A  livelier  dye,  or  deeper  gloom : 
So  fafliion'd  by  the  painter's  {kill, 
New  forms  the  glowing  canvas  fill : 
So  to  the  fummer's  fun  the  rofe 
And  jeffamin  their  charms  difclofe. 

While,  all  intent  on  this  retreat, 
He  faw  his  fav'rite  work  complete, 
Divine  enthufiafm  feiz'd  his  breaft, 
And  thus  his  tranfport  he  exprefs'd : 
"  Let  others  toil  for  wealth  or  pow'r, 
I  court  the  fweetly-vacant  hour : 
Down  life's  fmooth  current  calmly  glide, 
Nor  vex'd  with  cares,  nor  rack'd  with  pride. 
Give  me,  O  nature !  to  explore 
Thy  lovely  charms,  I  afk  no  more. 
For  thee  I  fly  from  vulgar  eyes ; 
For  thee  1  vulgar  cares  defpife  ; 
For  thee  ambition's  charms  refign ; 
Accept  a  vot'ry  wholly  thine. 

Yet  ftill  let  friendihip's  joys  be  near, 
Still  on  thefe  plains  her  train  appear. 
By  learning's  fons  my  haunts  be  trod, 
And  Stamford's  feet  imprint  my  fod. 
For  Stamford  oft  hath  deign'd  to  ftray 
Around  my  Leafows'  flow'ry  way. 
And,  where  his  honour'd  fteps  have  rov'd, 
Oft  have  his  gifts  thofe  fcenes  improv'd. 
To  him  I'll  dedicate  my  cell, 
To  him  fufpend  the  votive  fpell. 
His  name  fhall  heighten  ev'ry  charm, 
His  name  protect  my  groves  from  harm, 
Protect  my  harmlefs  fport  from  blame, 
And  turn  obfcurity  to  fame." 

He  fpake.  His  hand  the  pencil  guides, 
And  *  Stamford  o'er  the  fceae  prefide*. 
The  proud  device,  with  borrow'd  grace, 
Conferr'd  new  luflre  on  the  place : 

*  The  fcene  here  referred  to,  -was  infcrib:d  to  tie  R-flt 
Hon.  tie  E&rl  of  Siamfard,  but  fm:e  to  If'iHiam  £/>«•• 
Jlone,  fifa. 


THE   WORKS   OF   JAGO. 


As  books,  by  dint  of  dedication, 
Jinjoy  their  patron's  reputation. 

Now,  launching  from  its  lofty  fliore, 
The  loofen'd  ftream  began  to  roar  : 
As  headlong,  from  the  rocky  mound, 
It  rufli'd  into  the  vaft  profound. 
There  check'd  awhile,  again  it  flow'd 
Glitt'ring  along  the  channell'd  road : 
From  fteep  to  fteep,  a  frequent  fall, 
Each  different,  and  each  natural. 
Obftru&ing  roots  and  rocks  between, 
Diversify  th'  enchanted  fcene ; 
While  winding  now,  and  intricate, 
Now  more  devclop'd,  and  in  ftate, 
Th'  united  ftream,  with  rapid  force, 
Purfues  amain  its  downward  courfe, 
Till  at  your  feet  abforb'd,  it  hides 
Beneath  the  ground  its  buftling  tides. 

With  prancing  fteeds  and  liv'ried  trains, 
Soon  daily  flione  the  bord'ring  plains. 
And  diftant  founds  foretold  th'  approach 
Of  frequent  chaife,  and  crowded  coach. 
For  fons  of  tafte,  and  daughters  fair, 
Hafted  the  fweet  furprife  to  fhare  : 
While  *  Hagley  wonder'd  at  their  ftay, 
And  hardly  brook'd  the  long  delay. 

Not  diftant  far  below,  a  mill 
Was  built  upon  a  neighb'ring  rill : 
Whofe  pent-up  ftream,  whene'er  let  loofe, 
Impell'd  a  wheel,  clofe  at  its  fluke, 
So  ftrongly,  that  by  friction's  pow'r, 
'Twould  grind  -the  firmeft  grain  to  flour. 
Or,  by  a  correfpcndence  new, 
With  hammers,  and  their  clatt'ring  crew, 
Would  fo  beftir  her  active  flumps, 
On  iron  blocks,  though  arrant  lumps, 
That  in  a  trice  (he'd  manage  matters, 
To  make  'em  all  as  fmooth  as  platters. 
Or  flit  a  bar  to  rods  quite  taper, 
With  as  much  eafe  as  you'd  cut  paper. 
For,  though  the  lever  gave  the  blow, 
Yet  it  was  lifted  from  below  ; 
And  would  for  ever  have  lain  ft  ill, 
But  for  the  buftling  of  the  rill ; 
Who,  from  her  ftately  pool  or  ocean, 
Put  all  the  wheels  and  logs  in  motion; 
Things  in  their  nature  very  quiet, 
Though  making  all  this  noife  and  riot. 

This  ftream  that  could  in  toil  excel, 
Began  with  fpoliih  pride  to  fwell : 
Piqu'd  at  her  neighbour's  refutation, 
And  thus  exprefs'd  her  indignation : 

"  Madam  !  methinks  you're  vaftly  proud, 
You  wasn't  us'd  to  talk  fo  loud. 


*  Tic  feafof  tie  Right  Hon.  Lord  Lyttleton,  d'Jlant 
vutafeiv  miks  from  tb(  Leafoivs. 


Nor  cut  fuch  capers  in  your  pace, 

Marry!  what  antics,  what  grimace ! 

For  ihame  !  don't  give  yourfelf  fuch  airs, 

In  flaunting  down  thofc  hideous  ftairs. 

Nor  put  yourfelf  in  fuch  a  flutter, 

Whate'cr  you  do,  you  dirty  gutter  ! 

I'd  have  you  know,  you  upftart  minx  ! 

Ere  you  were  form'd,  with  all  your  finki, 

A  lake  I  wa=,  compared  with  which, 

Your  ftream  is  but  a  paltry  ditch : 

And  ftill,  on  honeft  labour  bent, 

I  ne'er  a  fmgle  flafh  mifpent. 

And  yet  no  folks  of  high  degree, 

Would  e'er  vouchfafe  to  vifit  me, 

As  in  their  coaches  by  they  rattle, 

Forfooth !  to  hear  your  idle  prattle. 

Though  half  the  bufinefs  of  my  flooding 

Is  to  provide  them  cakes  and  pudding  : 

Or  furniih  fluff  for  many  a  trinket, 

Which,  though  fo  fine,  you  fcarce  would  think  it, 

When  -J-  Boulton's  flcill  has  fix'd  their  beauty, 

To  my  rough  toil  firft'ow'd  their  duty. 

But  I'm  plain  Goody  of  the  mill, 

And  you  are — Madam  Cafcadille !" 

"  Dear  Coz,"  reply 'd  the  beauteous  torrent, 
"  Pray  do  not  difcompofe  your  current. 
That  we  all  from  one  fountain  flow, 
Hath  been  agreed  on  long  ago. 
Varying  our  talents  and  our  tides, 
As  chance,  or  education  guides. 
That  I  have  either  note,  or  name, 
I  owe  to  him  who  gives  me  fame. 
Who  teaches  all  our  kind  to  flow, 
Or  gaily  fwift,  or  gravely  flow. 
Now  in  the  lake,  withglafly  face, 
Now  moving  light,  with  dimpled  grace, 
Now  gleaming  from  the  rocky  height, 
Now,  in  rough  eddies,  foaming  white. 
Nor  envy  me  the  gay,  or  great, 
That  vifit  my  obfcure  retreat. 
None  wonders  that  a  clown  can  dig? 
But  'tis  fome  art  to  dance  a  jig. 
Your  talents  are  employ'd  for  ufe, 
Mine  to  give  pleafure,  and  amufe. 
And  though,  dear  Coz,  no  folks  of  tafte 
Their  idle  hours  with  you  will  wafte, 
Yet  many  a  grift  comes  to  your  mill, 
Which  helps  your  mailer's  bags  to  fill. 
While  I,  with  all  my  notes  and  trilling, 
For  Damon  never  got  a  {hilling. 
Then,  gentle  Coz,  forbear  your  clamours, 
Enjoy  your  hoppers,  and  your  hammers : 
We  gain  our  ends  by  diff'rent  ways, 
And  you  get  bread,  and  I  get— praife. 

f  An  eminent  merchant,  and  -very  ingenious  meclaaic, 
at  tie  Sobo  manufatioryt  near  Birtningltan, 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


7=5 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


ARDENNA. 

A  PASTORAL-ECLOGUE.      TO  A  LABY. 

Damon  and  Lycidas. 

WHEN  o'er  the  weftarn  world  fair  fcience  fpread 
Her  genial  ray,  and  Gothic  darknefs  fled, 
To  Britain's  ifle  the  mufes  took  their  way, 
And  taught  her  lift'ning  groves  the  tuneful  lay. 
'Twas  then  two  fwains  the  Doric  reed  eflay'd 
To  fing  the  praifes  of  a  peerlefs  maid. 
On  Arden's  blifsful  plain  her  faat  (he  chofe, 
And  hence  her  rural  name  Ardenna  rofe. 
In  fportive  Yerfe  alternately  they  vied, 
Thus  Damon  fang,  and  Lycidas  replied. 
Damon. 

Here,  gentle  fwain,  beneath  the  (hade  reclin'd, 
Remit  thy  labours,  and  unbend  thy  mirfd. 
Well  with  the  (hepherd's  (late  our  cares  agree, 
For  nature  prompts  to  pleafing  induftry. 
'Tis  this  to  all  her  gifts  frefh  beauty  yields, 
Health  to  our  flocks,  and  plenty  to  our  fields. 
Yet  hath  (he  not  impos'd  unceafing  toil, 
Not  reftlefs  plowfhares  always  vex  the  foil. 
Then,  (hepherd,  take  the  blellings  Heav'n  beftows, 
Affilt  the  fong,  and  fweeten  our  ropofe. 
Lycidas. 

While  others,  funk  in  deep,  or  live  in  vain, 
Or,  flaves  of  indolence,  but  wake  to  pain, 
Me  let  the  call  of  earlieft  birds  invite 
To  hail  th"  approaches  of  returning  light ; 
To  tafte  the  freilmef*.  of  the-  cheerful  mprn, 
While  glilt'ring  dew-drops  hang  on  ev'ry  thorn. 
Hence  all  the  blifs  that  centers  in  our  kind, 
Health  to  the  blood,  and  vigour  to  the  mind. 
Hence  ev'ry  talk  its  meet  attendance  gains, 
And  leifure  hence  to  liften  to  thy  (trains. 
Damon. 

Thrice  happy  fwain,  fo  fitly  formM  to  (hare 
The  fhepherd's  labour,  and  Ardenna's  care  1 
To  tell  Ardenna's  praife  the  rural  train 
Infcribe  the  verfe,  or  chant  it  o'er  the  plain. 
Plains,  hills,  and  woods  return  the   well-known 

found, 

And  the  fmooth  beech  records  the  fportive  wuund. 
Then,  Lycidas,  let  us  the  chorus  join, 
So  bright  a  theme  our  mufic  (hall  refine. 

Efcap'd  from  all  the  bufy  world  admires, 
Hither  the  philofophic  dame  retires; 
For  in  the  bufy  world,  or  poets  feign, 
Intemp'rate  vice,  and  giddy  pleafures  reign  ; 
Then,  when  from  crowds  the  loves,  and  graces  flew, 
To  thefe  lone  (hades  the  beauteou*  maid  withdrew, 
To  ftudy  nature  in  this  calm  retreat, 
And  with  confed'rate  art  h»r  charms  complete. 
How  fweet  their  union  is,  ye  (hepherds,  fay, 
And  thou  who  form'dft  the  reed  infpire  my  lay. 
'     VOL.  XI. 


Her  praife  I. fing  by  whom  our  flocks  are  freed 
From  the  rough  bramble,  and  envetiom'd  weed; 
Who  to  green  paftures  turns  the  dreary  wade, 
With  fcatter'd  woods  in  carelels  beauty  grac'd. 

'Tis  (he,  Ardenna  !  guardian  of  the  fcene, 
Who  bids  the  mount  to  fwell,  who  fmooths  the 

green, 

Who  drains  the  mar(h,and  frees  the  ftrug^ling  flood 
From  its  divided  rule,  and  (trite  with  mud. 
She  winds  its  courfe  the  copious  ftream  to  ihow, 
And  (he  in  fwifter  currents  bids  it  flow ; 
Now  fmoothly  gliding  with  an  even  pace, 
Now  dimplingo'er  the  (tones  with  roughen'd  grace : 
With  glafly  furface  now  ferenely  bright, 
Now  foaming  from  the  rock  all  filver  white. 

Tis  (he  the  riling  bank  with  beeches  crowns, 
Now  fpreads  the   fcene,   and  MOW  contracts  its 

bounds. 

Clothes  the  bieak  hill  with  verdure  ever  gay, 
And  bids  our  feet  through  myjtle-valleys  (tray. 
She  for  her  (hepherds  rears  the  rooty  (lied, 
The  chequer'd   pavement,  and  the  ftraw-wove 

bed.    ' 

For  them  (he  fcoops  the  grotto's  cool  retreat, 
From  ftorms  a  (belter,  and  a  (hade  in  heat. 
Directs  their  hands  the  verdant  arch  to  b^nd, 
\nd  with  the  leafy  roof  its  gloom  extend. 
Shells,  (lint,  and  ore  their  mingled  graces  join, 
\nd  rocky  fragments  aid  the  chalte  defign. 
Lycidas. 

Hail    happy   lawns  '.    where'er   we    turn    our 

eyes, 

Frefh  beauties  bloom,  and  opening  wonders  rife. 
vVhilome    thefe    charming   fcenes   with   grief  I 

view'd 

A  barren  wafte,  a  dreary  folitude  ! 
My  drooping  flicks  their  ruflVt  p.iftures  mourn'd, 
And  lowing  herds  the  plaintive  mo-in  return'd. 
With  u'eary  feet  from  neld  to  field  they  itrav'd, 
Nor  found  their  hunger's  painful  lenfe  allay'd, 
But  now  no  more  a  dreary  fcene  appears, 
No  more  its  pr.ckly  boughs  the  bramble  rears, 
No  more  my  Hocks  lament  th'  unfruitful  I'nl, 
Nor  moarn  their  ragged  fleece,  or-truitleis  toil. 
Damon. 

As  this  fair  lawn  excel*  the  rufhy  mead, 
As  firs  the  thorn,  and  rlow'rs  the  pois'n  >us  weed, 
Far  as  the  warbling  (ky-larks  foar  on  ln^h, 
Above  the  ciurnl'y  bat,  or  buzzing  fly  ; 
So  matchlefs  moves  Ardenna  o'er  the  greet;, 
In  mind  alike  excelling  as  in  mien. 
Lycidas. 

Sweet  is  the  fragrance  of  the  dam;i(k  rofe, 
And  bright. the  dye  that  on  its  furfvtce  glows, 
Fair  is  the  poplar  rifing  on  the  ;>l.iin, 
Of  fliapely  trunk,  and  lofty  branches  vain.j 
Y  y 


7s>6  THE   WOK. KS 

But  neither  fweet  the  rofe,  nor  bright  its  dye, 
Nor  poplar  fair,  if  with  her  charms  they  vie. 

Grateful  is  funfhine  to  the  fportive  lambs, 
The  balmy  dews  delight  the  nibbling  dams ; 
But  kindlier  warmth  Ardenna's  fnqiies  impart, 
A  balm  more  rich  her  leflbns  to  the  heait. 
Lycidas. 

No  more  Pomona's  guiding  hand  we  need, 
Nor  Flora's  help  to  paint  th*  enamell'd  mead, 
Nor  Ceres'  care  to  guard  the  rifing  grain. 
And  fpre  ad  the  yellow  plenty  o'er  the  plain  ; 
Ardenna's  precepts  ev'ry  want  fupply, 
The  grateful  lay  what  fhepherd  can  deny  ? 
Damon- 

A  theme  fo  pleafing,  with  the  day  begun, 
Too  foou  were  ended  with  the  fettiug  fuu. 
3}ut  fee  o'er  yonder  hill  the  parting  ray, 
And  hark '.  our  bleating  flocks  reprove  our  ftay. 

THE  SCAVENGERS. 

A  TOWN-ECLOGUE. 

tlulcis  odor  Inert  ox  re  q^alibet. 

AWAKE,  my  mufe,  prepare  a  loftier  theme. 
The  winding  valley,  and  the  dimpled  ftream 
Delight  not  all :  quit,  quit  the  verdaht  riekl, 
And  try  what  dufty  ftreets,  and  alleys  yield. 

Where  Avon  wider  flows,  and  gathers  fame, 
Stands  a  fair  town,  and  Warwick  is  its  name. 
For  ufeful  arts  entitled  once  to  fhare 
The  gentle  Ethelfieda's  guardian  care. 
Nor  lefe  for  deeds  of  chivalry  reiu>wn'd? 
When  her  own  Guy  was  with  her  laurels  crown'd. 
Naw  Syren  (loth  holds  here  her  tranquil  reign, 
And  binds  in  filken  bonds  the  feeble  train. 
No  frownibg  knights  in  uncouth  armour  lac'd, 
Seek' now  for  moofters  on  the  dreary  wafte: 
In  thefe  foft  fcenes  they  chafe  a  gentler  prey, 
No  monlters  !  but  as  dangerous  as  they. 
In  diff'rent  forms  as  fure  deitru&ion  lies, 
They  have  no  claws  'tis  true — but  they  have  eyes. 

Laft  of  the  toiling  race  there  liv'd  a  pair, 
."Bred  up  in  labour,  and  inur'd  to  care  ! 
To  fweep  the  ftreets  their  ta(k  from  fun  to  fun, 
And  feek  the  naftinefi  which  others  Hum. 
JVlore  plodding  wight,  or  daine  you  ne'er  fhali  fee, 
He  Gaffer  Peiicl  hight,  and  Gammer  fiie. 

As  at  their  door  they  fate  one  funimer's  day, 
Old  Peftel  firft  effay'd  the  plaintive  lay  : 
His  gentle  mate  the  plaintive  lay  return'd, 
And  thus  alternately  their  cares  they  inourn'd. 
Old  Pcjlei. 

Alas  !  was  ever  fuch  tine  weather  feen, 
How  dufty  are  the  roads,  the  ftreets  how  clean  ! 
How  long,  ye  almanacks !  will  it  be  dry? 
Empty  my  cart  how  long,  and  idle  I ! 
Jiv'n  at  the  beft  the  times  are  not  fo  good, 
But  'tis  hard  work  to  fcrape  a  livelihood. 
The  cattle  in  the  ftalls  refign  their  life, 
And  baulk  the  lhambles,  and  th'  unbloody  knife. 
While  farmers  fit  at  home  in  petifive  gloom, 
And  turnpikes  threaten  to  complete  my  doom. 
Wife.  . 

Well !  for  the  turnpike  that  will  do  no  hurt, 
Coae  fa/  the  ojaasgers  arc  friends  to  dirt. 


OF    JAGO. 

But  much  I  fear  this  murrain  where  'twill  end, 
For  fure  the  cattle  did  our  duor  befriend. 
Oft  have  I  hail'd  'em,  as  they  ftalk'd  along, 
Their  fat  the  butchers  pleas'd,  but  me  their  dung. 
Old  Pfjiel. 

See  what  a  little  dab  01  dirt  is  here  I 
But  yields  all  Warwick  more,  O  tell  me  where  ! 
Yet,  on  this  fpot,  though  now  fo  naked  ieen, 
Heaps  upon  heaps,  and  loads  on  loads  have  been. 
Bigger,  and  bigger,  the  proud  dunghill  grew, 
Till  my  dimiuifa'd  houfe  was  hid  from  view. 
Wife, 

Ah  !  Goffer  Peftel,  what  brave  days  were  thofe, 
When  higher  than  our  houfe  our  muckhill  rofe  ! 
The  growing  mount  I  view'd  with  jayful  eyes., 
And  mark'd  what  each  load  added  to  its  fize. 
Wrapt  in  its  fragrant  fteam  we  often  fat, 
And  to  its  praifes  held  delightful  chat. 
Nor  did  1  e'er  neglecfl  my  mite  to  pay, 
To  fwell  the  goodly  heap  from  day  to  day. 
A  cabbage  once  I  bought  ;  but  finail  the  cull— 
Nor  do  1  think  the  farthing  all  was  loft. 
Again  you  fold  its  well-digefled  (lore, 
To  dung  the  garden  where  it  grew  before. 
Old.  Ptjiel. 

What  though  the  beaus,  and  powder'd  coxcombs 

jeerd, 

And  at  the  fcavenger's  employment  fnear'd, 
Yet  then  at  night  content  I  told  my  gains, 
And  thought  well  paid  their  malice,  and  my  pains.. 
Why  toils  the  tradefman,  but  to  fwell  his  ilore  ? 
Why  craves  the  wealthy  landlord  ftill  for  more  ? 
Why  will  our  gentry  flatter,  iawn,  and  lie  ? 
Why  pack  the  cards,   and  what  d'ye  call's.  —  the 

die? 

All,  all  the  pleafing  paths  of  gain  pnrfue, 
And  wade  through  thick,  and  thin,  us  we  folks  do. 
Sweet  is  the  fcent  that  from  advantage  fprings, 
And  nothing  dirty  which  good  iiit'reii  brings? 
Wife. 

When  goody  Dobbins  call'd  me  nafty  bear, 
And  talk'd  oi'  kennels,  and  the  ducking-chair, 
With  patience  I  could  hear  the  fcolding  quean, 
For  fure  'twas  dutincfs  that  kept  me  clean. 
Clean  was  my  gown,  on  Sundays,  if  not  rine, 
Nor  Mrs.  's  cap  fo  white  as  mine. 

A  flut  in  filk,  or  kerfey  is  the  fame, 
Nor  iweeteft  always,  is  the  fineit  dame. 

Thus  waii'd  they  pleafure  paft,and  prefent  cares, 
While  the  ftarv'd  hog  join'U  his  complaint  with 

theirs. 

To  ftill  his  grunting  diiT'rent  ways  they  tend, 
To  *  Weil-iuxet  he,  and  fLe  to  *  Couou-end. 

ABSENCE. 
WITH  leaden  foot  time  creeps  along 

While  Delia  is  away, 
With  her,  nor  plaintive  was  the  fong, 

Nor  tedious  was  the  day. 

Ah  !  envious  pow'r  !  reverfe  my  doom, 

Now  double  thy  career, 
Strain  ev'ry  nerve,  ftretch  ev'ry  plume, 

And  reft  them  when  fhe's  here. 


pf  the 


Names  of  the  mojl  remutet  and  ofpfjite  parts 


MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES. 


707 


TO  A  LADY. 

WHEN  nature  joins  a  beauteous  face 
With  fliape,  arid  air.  and  lite,  and  grace, 
To  ev'ry  imperfection  blind, 
I  ipy  no  blennlh  in  the  maid. 

When  wit  flows  pure  from  Stella's  tongue. 
Or  animates  the  fpr.ightly  long, 
Our  hearts  contefs  the  pow'r  divine, 
Nor  lightly  prize  its  mortal  Ihrine. 

Good-nature  will  a  conqueft  gain, 
Though  wit,  and  beavity  figh  in  vain. 
When  gen'rous  thoughts  the  bread  infpire, 
I  with  its  rank,  and  fortunes  higher. 

When  Sidney's  charms  again  unite 
To  win  the  4bul,  and  bkfs  the  fight, 
Fair,  and  learn'd,  and  good,  and  great  i 
An  earthly  goddefs  is  complete. 

But  when  I  fee  a  ford'd  mind 

With  affluence,  and  ill-nature  join'd, 

And  pride  without  a  grain  of  lente, 

And  without  beauty  infbtence, 

The  creature  with  contempt  I  view, 

And  fure  'tis  like  Mils you  know  who. 

TO  A  LADY  WORKING  A  PAIR  OF 
RUFFLES. 

WHAT  means  this  ufelefs  coft,  this  wanton  pride  ? 

To  purchaie  fopp'ry  from  yon'  foreign  Itrand  1 
To  fpurn  our  native  ltore%  and  arts  alide, 

And  drain  the  riches  of.  a  needy  land  ! 

Pleas'd  I  furvey,  fair  nymph,  your  happy  (kill, 
Yet  riew  it  by  no  vulgar  critic's  laws : 

With  nobi-er  aim  i  draw  my  lober  quill, 
Anxious  to  lift  each  art  in  virtue's  caufe. 

Go  on»  dear  maid,  your  utmoft  pow'r  effay, 

And  if  for  fame  your  little  bofom  heave. 

Know,  patriot  bands  your  merit  (hall  diiplay, 

.  And  amply  pay  the  graces  they  receive. 

Let  ev'ry  nymph  like  you  the  gift  prepare, 
And  banilh  foreign  pomp,  and  coftly  fhow'; 

What  lover  but  would  burn  the  prize  to  wear, 
Or  biuih,  by  you  pronouucM  his  country's  foe  ? 

Ycur  fmiies  can  win  when  patriot -fpeeches  fail, 
Your  frowns  controul  when  jultice  threats  in 
vain, 

O'er  ftubborn  minds  your  foftnefs  can  prevail, 
And  placemen  drop  the  bribe  if  you  complain. 

Then  rile  the  guardians  of  your  country's  fame, 
Or  wherefore  were  ye  form'd  like  angels,  fair  ? 

By  beauty's  force  our  venal  hearts  reclaim. 
And  iave  the  drooping  virtues  from  dei^air. 

FEMALE  EMPIRE. 

*A  TRUE  HISTORY. 

LIKE  Bruin's  was  Avaro's  breaft-, 
'.>  w  loHnels  harboui'd  there  ; 


While  Sylvio  fome  concern  exprefs'd, 
When  beauty  Ihed  a  tear. 

In  Hymen's  bands  they  both  were  tied, 

As*  Cupid's  archives.  (how  ye; 
Prond  Cel;a  w*s  Avaro's  bride, 

And  Sylvio's  gentle  Chloe. 

I,  ike  other  nymphs,  at  church  they  fwore, 

To  honour  and  obey, 
Which,  with  each  learned  nymph  before, 

They  loon  txplain'd  away. 

If  Chloe  now  would  have  her  will, 

Her  ftreaming  eyes  ptevail'd, 
Or  if  her  fwain  prov'd  cruel  ftill, 

Hyl'terics  never  fail'd. 

But  Celia  fcorn'd  the  plaintive  moan, 

And  heart-dill'olving  ihow'r; 
With  flalhing  eye,  and  angry  tone, 

She  belt  mamtain'd  her  pow'r. 

Yet  once  the  mandates  of  his  Turk 

Avaro  durft  refufe; 
For  why  ?  important  was  his  work, 

"  To  regilter  old  ihoes  1" 

And  does,  faid  (lie,  the  wretch  difpute 

My  claim  fuch  clowns  to  rule  ? 
If  Celia  cannot  charm  a  brute, 

Mie  can  chaitife  a  tool. 

Then  (trait  (lie  to  his  clofet  flew, 

His  private  thoughts  (he  tore, 
And  from  its  place  the  poker  drew, 

That  fell'd  him  on  the  rloor. 

Henceforth,  faid  (he,  my  calls  regard, 

Own  mine  the  (tronger  plea, 
Nor  let  thy  vulgar  cares  retard 

The  female  rites  of  tea. 

Victorious  lex  !  alike  your  art, 

And  puiilance  we  dread  ; 
For  if  y°u  cannot  break  our  heart, 

*Tis  plain  you'll  break  our  head. 

Place  me,  ye  gods,  beneath  the  throne 

Which  gentle  fmiies  environ, 
Af\-\  I'll  fubmiffion  glady  own, 

'Without  a  rod  of  iron. 

ON  MR.  SAMUEL  COOKE'S  POEMS. 

IN  THE  YEAR 


INDEED,  Matter  Cooke  ! 

You  have  made  fuch  a  book, 
As  the  learned  in  paltry  admire;s 

But  other  wits  joke 

To  tee  inch  a  fmoke 
Without  ,any  viiible  tire. 

What  a  nice  bill  of  fare, 

Of  whatever  is  rare, 
And  approv'd  by  the  critics  oi"  taftel 

Not  a  claflical  bit, 

Ev'ry  fancy  to  hit, 
But  here  111  due  order  is  plac'd. 


The  p 


70» 


THE   WORKS   OF  JAGO. 


Yet,  for  all  this  parade, 

You  are  but  a  dull  blade, 
And  your  lines  are  all  fcragged,  and  raw  ; 

And  though  you've  hack'd,  and  have  hew'd, 

And  have  fqucez'd,  and  have  ftevv'd, 
Your  forc'd-meat  isn't  all  worth  a  ftraw. 

Though  your  fatire  you  fpit, 

'Tisn't  feafon'd  a  bit, 
And  your  puffs  are  as  heavy  at  lead  ; 

Call  each  difli  what  you  will, 

Boil,  roaft,  hafh,  or  grill, 
Yet  flill  it  is  all  a  calve's  head. 

I  don't  mind  your  huffing, 

For  you've  put  fuch  vile  ftuffin, 
I  proteft  I'm  as  fick  as  a  dog  ; 

Were  you  leaner,  or  fatter, 

I'd  not  mince  the  matter, 
You're  not  fit  to  drefs  ^Efop  a  frog. 

Then,  good  matter  Slfce  ! 

Shut  up  fliop,  if  your  wife, 
And  th'  unwary  no  longer  trepan ; 

Such  advice  indeed  is  hard, 

And  may  ftick  in  your  gizzard, 
But  digeit  it  as  well  as  you  can.  / 

THE  MISTAKE. 

ON  CAPTAIN  3LUFF.      1750. 

SATS  a  gofling,  almoft  frigbfen'd  out  of  her  wits, 

Help  mother,  or  elfe  I  lhall  go  into  fits. 

I  have  had  fuch  a  tright,  I  fhall  never  recover, 

0  !  that  bawke,  that  you've  told  us  of  over  and 

over. 

See,  there,  where  he  fits,  with  his  terrible  face, 
And  his  coat  how  it  glitters  ali  over  with  lace. 
With  his  fliarp  hooked  nole,  and  his  fword  at  his 

heel, 

How  my  heart  it  goes  pit-a-pat,  pray,  mother,  feel. 
Says  the  goofe,  very  gravely,  pray  don't  talk  fo  wild, 
Thole  looks  are  as  harmless  as  mine  are,  my 

child. 

And  as  for  his  fword  there,  fo  bright,  and  fo  nice, 
I'll  be  fworn  'twill  hurt  nothing  befides  frogs,  and 

mice. 
Nay,  prithee  don't  hang  fo  about  me,  let  loofe, 

1  tell  thee  he  dares  not  fay — bo  to  a  goofe. 
Jn  fnort  there  is  not  a  more  innocent  fowl, 
Why,  inftead  of  a  ba-wke,  look  ye,  child  'tis  an  owl. 

TO  A  LADY, 

WITH  A  BASKET  Of  FRUIT. 

ONCE  of  forbidden  fruit  the  mortal  tafte 
Chang'd  beauteous  Eden  to  a  dreary  wafte.    • 
Here  vou  may  freely  eat,  fecure  the  while 
From  Intent  poilon,  or  infidious  guile. 
Yet  O!  <ouH  I  but  happily  infufe 
Some  fecret  charm  into  the  fav'ry  juice, 
Of  pow'r  to  tempt  your  gentle  breaft  to  fliare 
With  me  the  peaceful  cot,  and  rural  fare : 
A  diff'rent  fate  fhould  crown  the  bleft  device, 
And  change  my  defart  to  a  paradife. 


PEYTOE'S  GHOST* 

To  Craven's  health,  and  focial  joy, 

The  feftive  night  was  kept, 
While  mirth  and  patriot  fpirit  fiow'd, 

And  dulnefs  only  flept. 

When  from  the  jovial  crowd  I  ftole, 
And  homeward  fhap'd  my  way  ; 

And  pafs'd  along  by  Chefterton, 
All  at  the  clufe  of  day. 

The  fky  with  clouds  was  overcaft  : 

An  hollow  tempeft  blow'd, 
And  rains  and  foaming  cataracts 

Had  delug'd  all  the  road. 

When  through  the  dark  and  lonefome  fliaile-, 

Shone  forth  a  fudden  light ; 
And  foon  diftinct  an  human  form, 

Engag'd  my  wondering  fight. 

Onward  it  mov'd  with  graceful  port, 

And  foon  o'ertook  my  fpeed  ; 
Then  thrice  I  lifted  up  my  hands, 

And  thrice  I  checked  my  fteed. 

Who  art  thou,  paflenger,  it  cry'd,   • 

From  yonder  mirth  retir'd  ? 
That  here  purfu'ft  thy  cheerlefs  way, 

Benighted,  and  bemir'd. 

I  am,  faid  I,  a  country  clerk, 

A  clerk  of  low  degree. 
And  yonder  gay  and  gallant  fcene, 

Suits  not  a  curacy. 

But  I  have  feen  fuch  fights  to-day, 

As  make  my  heart  full  glad, 
Although  it  is  but  dark,  'tis  true, 

And  eke— my  road  is  bad. 

For  I  have  feen  lords,  knights,  and  fquire?, 

Of  great  and  high  renown, 
To  cheofe  a  knight  for  this  fair  fliire, 

All  met  at  Warwick  town.  ' 

A  wight  of  fkill  to  ken  our  laws, 

Of  courage  to  defend, 
Of  worth  toferve  the  public  caufe, 

Before  a  private  end. 

And  fuch  they  found,  if  right  I  guef  •»• 

Of  gentle  blood  he  came  ; 
Of  morals  firm,  of  manners  mild, 

And  \  Craven  is  his  name. 

Did  half  tfce  Britim  tribunes  lhare 
Experienc'd  J  Mortlaunt's  truth, 

Another  half,  like  Craven,  boaft 
A  free  unbiafs'd  youth  : 

The  fun  I  trow,  in  all  his  race, 

No  happier  realm  fhould  find; 
Nor  Britons  hope  for  aught  in  vain, 

From  warmth  with  prudence  join'd. 

*  Was  the  late  Lord  Willouglby  de  Broke. 
f  Hon.    William   Craven,  of  fVykin;  he 
afterwards  Lord  Craven. 
\  The  late  Sir  Charles  Mor daunt,  Sart* 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


"  Go  on,  my  country,  favour'd  foil> 

Such  patriots  to  produce  ! 
Go  on,  my  countrymen,  he  cry'd, 

Such  patriots  ftill  to  choofe  " 

This  faid,  the  placid  form  retir'd, 

Behind  the  veil  of  night : 
Yet  bade  me,  for  my  country's  good, 

The  folemn  tale  recite. 

TO  A  LADY, 

BURNISHING  HER   LIBRARY,   AT   **»*,   IN    WAR 
WICKSHIRE. 

WHEN  juft  proportion  in  each  part, 
And  colours  mix'd  with  niceft  art, 
Confpire  to  mow  the  grace  and  mien 
Of  Cloe,  or  the  Cyprian  queen : 
With  elegance  throughout  refin'd, 
That  fpeaks  the  paflions  of  the  mind, 
The  glowing  canvas  will  proclaim, 
A  Raphael's,  or  a  Titian's  name. 

So  where  through  ev'ry  learned  page, 
Each  diftant  clime,  each  diftant  age 
Difplay  a  rich  variety, 
Of  wifdom  in  epitome ; 
Such  elegance  and  tafte  will  tell 
The  hand,  that  could  (elect  fo  well. 
But  when  we  all  their  beauties  view, 
United  and  improv'd  by  you, 
We  needs  muft  own  an  emblem  faint, 
T'  exprefs  thofe  charms  no  art  can  paint. 
Books  muft,  with  fuch  correctnefs  writ, 
Refine  another's  tafte  and  wit ; 
'Tis  to  your  merit  only  due, 
That  theirs  can  be  refin'd  by  you. 


TO  WILLIAM  SHENSTONE, 


ON  RECEIVING  A  GILT  POCKET-BOOK. 

THESE  fpotlefs  leaves,  this  neat  atray, 
Might  well  invite  your  charming  quill, 

In  fair  affemblage  to  difplay 

The  power  of  learning,  wit,  and  (kill. 

But  fince  you  carelefsly  refufe, 

And  to  my  pen  the  talk  affign  ; 
O  !  let  your  genius  guide  my  mufe, 

And  every  vulgar  thought  refine. 

Teach  me  your  beft,  your  beft  lov'd  art, 
With  frugal  care  to  (tore  my  mind  ; 

In  this  to  play  the  mifer's  part, 
And  give  mean  lucre  to  the  wind  : 

To  (him  the  coxcomb's  empty  noife, 
To  (corn  the  villain's  artful  mafk  ; 

Nor  trtift  gay  pleafure's  fleeting  joys 
Nor  urge  ambition's  endlefs  talk. 

Teach  me  to  ftcm  youth's  boifterotis  tide, 

To  regulate  its  giddy  rage  ; 
Bj  reafon1*  aid  my  bark  to  guide, 

Into  the  friendly  port  of  age  : 

To  Siare  what  claffic  culture  yields, 

Through  rhet'ric's  painted  meadc-to  roam  ; 
5 


With  you  to  reap  hiftoric  fields, 

And  bring  the  golden  harvelt  home. 

To  tafte  the  genuine  fweets  of  wit ; 

To  quaff  in  humour's  fprightly  bowl ; 
The  philofophic  mean  to  hit, 

And  prize  the  dignity  of  foul. 

Teach  me  to  read  fair  nature's  book, 
Wide  opening  in  each  flow'ry  plain  ; 

And  with  judicious  eye  to  look 
On  all  the  glories  of  her  reign  ; 

To  hail  her,  feated  on  her  throne, 
By  awful  woods  ericompaiVd  round, 

Or  her  divine  extraction  own, 

Though  with  a  wreath  of  rulhes  crown'd. 

Through  arched  walks,  o'er  fpreading  lawns. 
Near  folemn  rocks,  with  her  to  rove ; 

Or  court  her,  "mid  her  gentle  fawns, 
In  mofly  cell,  or  maple  grove. 

Whether  the  profpect  (train  the  fight,  * 
Or  in  the.  nearer  landfcapes  charm, 

Where  hills,  vales,  fountains,  woods  unite, 
To  grace  your  fweet  Arcadian  farm : 

There  let  me  fit,  and  gaze  with  yon, 
On  nature's  works  by  art  refin'd  : 

And  own,  while  we  their  concert  view, 
Both  fair,  but  faireft,  thus  combin'd  ! 

AN  ELEGY  ON  MAN. 

WRITTEN-  JANUARY,    1752. 

BEHOLD  earth's  lord,  imperial  man, 

In  ripen'd  vigour  gay  ; 
His  outward  form  attentive  (can, 

And  all  within  furvey. 

Behold  his  plans  of  future  life, 

His  care,  his  hope,  his  love, 
Relations  dear  of  child,  and  wife, 

The  dome,  the  lawn,  the  grove. 

•Now  fee  within  his  aftive  mind, 

More  gen'rous  paflions  (hare, 
Friend,  neighbour,  country,  ail  his  kind} 

By  turns  engage  his  care. 

Behold  him  range  with  curious  eye, 

O'er  earth  from  pole  to  pole. 
And  through  th*  illimitable  (ky 

Explore  with  daring  foul. 

Yet  pafs  fome  twanty  fleeting  years, 

And  all  his  glory  dies, 
His  languid  eye  is  bath'd  in  tears, 

He  fickeni',  groans,  and  dies. 

And  is  this  all  his  deltin'd  Jot, 

This  all  his  buafted  i  way  ? 
For  ever  now  to  be  lbrgott 

Amid  the  mould'ring  clay ! 

Ah  gloomy  thought .'  da  -*orfe  than  death  i 

Life  fickeas  at  the  foutvi ; 
Better  it  were  not  draw  our  breath, 

Than  run  this  empty  round. 

Hence,  cheating  fancy,  then,  away 
Olet  us  .better  try. 

Yviij 


By  reafon's  more  enlighten'd  ray, 
What  'tis  indeed  to  die. 

Obferve  yon  mafs  of  putrid  earth, 

It  holds  an  embryo-brood, 
JEv'n  now  the  reptiles  crawl  to  birth, 

And  feek  their  leafy  food. 

Yet  ftay  till  fome  few  funs  are  paft, 

.Each  forms  a  lilken  tomb, 
And  feems,  like  man,  imprifon'd  fall, 

To  meet  his  final  doom. 

Yet  from  this  filent  manfion  too 

Anon  you  fee  him  rife, 
No  more  a  crawling  worm  to  view, 

But  tenant  of  the  fkies. 

And  what  forbids  that  man  fhouJd  fhare, 

Some  more  auipicious  day, 
To  range  at  large  in  open  air, 

As  light  and  free  as  they  ? 

There  was  a  time  when  life  firft  warm'd 

Our  flefli  in  (hades  of  night, 
Then  was  th'  imperfect:  fubftance  form'd, 

And  fent  to  view  this  light. 

There  was  a  time,  when  ev'ry  fenfe 

In  ftraiter  limits  dwelt, 
Yet  each  its  talk  could  then  difpenfe, 

We  faw,  we  heard,  we  felt. 

And  times  there  are,  when  through  the  veins 

The  blood  forgets  to  flow, 
Yet  then  a  living  pow'r  remains, 

Though  not  in  aclive  fliow. 

Times  too  there  be,  when  friendly  fleep's 

Soft  charms  the  fenfes  bind, 
Yet  fancy  then  her  vigils  keeps, 

And  ranges  unconfin'd. 

And  reafon  holds  her  fep'rate  fway, 

Though  all  the  fenfes  wake, 
And  forms  in  mem'ry's  ftorehoufe  play, 

Of  no  material  make. 


THE   WORKS    O?   JAGO. 


are  thefe  then,  this  eye,  this  ear, 
But  nicer  organs  found, 
A  giaft  to  read,  a  trump  to  hear, 
The  modes  of  ftiape,  or  found  ? 

And  blow?  may  maim,  or  time  impair 

Thefe  inftruments  of  clay, 
And  death  may  ravifb  what  they  fpare, 

Completing  their  decay. 

But  are  thefe  then  that  living  pow'r 
That  thinks,  compares,  and  rules? 

Then  fay  a  fcaffold  is  a  tow'r, 
A  workman  is  his  tools. 

Tor  aught  appears  that  death  can  do, 
That  ftill  furvives  his  ilroke, 

Its  workings  plac'd  beyond  our  view, 
Its  prefent  commerce  broke. 

But  what  connexions  it  may  find, 
*  Boots  much  to  hope,  and  fear, 

*  fill,  fitter's  Analogy, 

*  6 


And  if  inftruftion  courts  tTie  mind, 
'  1'is  madnefs  not  to  hear. 

ON  RECEIVING  A  LITTLE  IVORY  BOX 
FROM  A  LADY, 


LITTLE  box  of  matchlefs  grace  ! 

Fairer  than  the  iaireir  face, 

Smooth  as  was  her  parent-hand, 

That  did  thy  wund'rous  form  command. 

Spotlefs  as  her  infant  mind, 

As  her  riper  age  refin'd, 

Beauty  with  the  graces  join'd. 

Let  me  clothe  the  lovely  ftranger, 
Let  me  lodge  thee  fafe  from  danger, 
Let  me  guard  thy  foft  repole, 
From  giddy  fortune's  random  blows. 
From  thoughtlefs  mirth,  barbaric  hate, 
From  the  iron-hand  of  fate, 
And  oppreffiou's  deadly  weight. 

Thou  art  not  of  a  fort,  or  number 
Fafliion'd  for  a  poet's  lumber ; 
Though  more  capacious  than  his  purfe, 
Too  fmall  to  hold  his  ftore  of  verfe. 
Too  delicate  for  homely  toil, 
Too  neat  for  vulgar  hands  to  foil. 

O  !  would  the  fates  permit  the  mufe, 
Thy  future  deftiny  to  choofe  ! 
In  thy  circle's  fairy  round. 
With  a  golden  fillet  bound  : 
Like  the  fnow-drop  filver  white. 
Like  the  glow  worm's  humid  light, 
Like  the  dew  at  early  dawn, 
Like  the  moon-light  on  the  lawn, 
Lucid  rows  of  pearls  ihou'd  dwell, 
Pleas'd  as  in  their  native  fliell; 
Or  the  brilliant's  fparkling  rays, 
Shou'd  emit  a  ftarry  blaze. 

And  if  the  fair  whole  magic  ftill, 
Wrought  thee  paffive  to  her  will, 
Deign  tu  regard  thy  poet's  love, 
Nor  his  afpi ring  fuit  reprove, 
Her  form  mould  crown  the  fair  defign, 
Goddefs  tit  for  fuch  a  ihrine  ! 

VALENTINE'S  DAY. 

THE  tuneful  choir  in  amorous  drains, 

Accolt  their  feather'd  loves ; 
While  each  fond  mate  with  equal  painsj 

The  tender  fuit  approves. 

With  cheerful  hop  from  fpray  to  fpray, 

They  (port  along  the  meads; 
In  focial  blifs  together  ftray, 

Where  love  or  fancy  leads. 

Through  fpring's  gay  fcenes  each  happy  paic 

Their  fluttering  joys  purfue ; 
Its  various  charms  and  produce  fliare, 

For  ever  kind  and  true. 

Their  fprightly  notes  from  every  (hade, 

Their  mutual  loves  proclaim  ; 
Till  winter's  chilling  blafts  invade, 

And  damp  th'  enlivening  flame. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


Then  all  the  jocund  fcene  declines, 

,Nor  woods  nor  meads  delight ; 
The  drooping  tribe  in  fecret  pines, 

And  mourns  th'  unwelcome  light. 

Go,  blifsful  warblers  !  timely  wife, 

Th'  inftruclive  moral  tell  ! 
Nor  thou  their  meaning  lays  defpife, 

My  charming  Annabelle  ! 

HAMLET'S  SOLILOQUY, 

IMITATED. 

To  print,  or  not  to  print — that  is  the  queftioh. 

Whether  'tis  better  in  a  trunk  to  bury 

The  quirks  and  crotchets  of  outrageous  fancy, 

Or  fend  a  well-wrote  copy  to  the  prefs, 

And  by  difclofing,  end  them  ?  To  print,  to  doubt 

No  more;    and  by  one  aft  to  fay  we  end 

The  hea-dach,  and  a  thousand  natural  fliocks 

Of  fcribbling  frenzy— 'tis  a  confummation 

Devoutly  to  be  wifh'd.     To  print — to  beam 

From  the  fame  Iheltwith  Pope,  in  calf  well  bound  '. 

To  deep,  perchance,   with  Quarks — Ay,  there's 

the  rub— 

For  to  what  clafs  a  writer  may  be  doom'd. 
When  he  hath  (huffled  off  fome  paltry  ftuft', 
Muft  give  us  paufe.— There's  the  refpedl  that 

makes 

Th'  unwilling  poet  Jfep  his  piece  nine  years. 
For  who  would  bear  th'  impatient  thirft  of  fame, 
The  pride  of  confcious  merit,  and  'bove  all, 
The  tedious  importunity  of  friends, 
When  as  himfelf  might  his  quietus  make 
With  a  bare  inkhorn  ?   Who  would  fardles  bear  ? 
To  groan  and  fweat  under  a  load  of  wit  ? 
But  that  the  tread  of  iteep  Parnaffus'  hill. 
That  undifcover'd  country,  with  whofe  bays 
Few  travellers  return,  puzzles  the  will, 
And  makes  us  rather  bear  to  live  unknown, 
Than  run  the  hazard  to  be  known,  and  damn'd. 
Thus  critics  do'  make  cowards  of  us  all. 
And  thus  the  healthful  face  of  manv  a  poem, 
Is  fickly'd  o'er  with  a  pale  manutcript; 
And  enterprifers  of  great  fire,  and  fpirit, 
With  this  regard  from  Dodfley  turn  away, 
And  lofe  the  name  of  authors. 

ROUNDELAY, 

Written  for  the  Jubilee  at  Stratford  vpon  Avon, 
Celebrated  by  Mr.  Garrick  in  honour  of  Shak- 
Jpeare,  September  1^69. 

SET  TO  MUSIC  BY  MR.  DIB0IN. 

SISTERS  of  the  tuneful  train, 
Attend  your  parent's  jocund  drain, 
'Tis  fancy  calls  you  ;  follow  me 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

On  Avon's  banks,  where  Shakfpeare's  buft 
Points  out,  and  guards  his  deeping  dull ; 
The  fons  of  fcenic  mirth  agree, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

Come,  daughters,  come,  and  bring  with  you 
Th'  aerial  fprites  and  fairy  crew, 


And  the  fitter  graces  thre"e, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

Hang  around  the  feulptur'il  tomb 
The  'broider'd  veft,  the  nodding  plume, 
And  the  malk  of  comic  glee, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

From  Birri am  wood,  and  Bbfworth  field. 
Bring  the  ftandard,  bring  the  fliield, 
With  drums,  and  martial  fymphony, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

In  mournful  numbers  now  relate 
Poor  Defdemona's  haplefs  fate, 
With  frantic  deeds  of  jealoufy, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee*. 

Nor  be  Windfor's  wives  forgot, 
With  their  harmlefs  merry  plot, 
The  whitening  mead,  and  haunted  tree, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

Now  in  jocund  drains  recite 
The  humours  of  the  braggard  knight, 
Fat  knight,  and  ancient  Piltol  he, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

But  fee  in  crowds  the  gay,  the  fair, 
To  the  fplendid  fcene  repair, 
A  fcene  as  fine,  as  fine  can  be, 
To  celebrate  the  jubilee. 

THE  BLACKBIRDS. 

AN  ELEGY. 

THE  fun  had  chas'd  the  mountain-fnow, 
His  beams  had  pierc'd  the  ftabborn  foil, 

The  melting  (t  reams  began  to  flow, 
And  plowmen  urg'd  their  annual  toil. 

'Twasthen,  amidft  the  Vocal  throng, 
Whom  nature  wak'd  to  mirth,  and  love, 

A  blackbird  rais'd  his  am'rous  fong, 
And  thus  itetho'd  through  the  grove  : 

O  faireft  of  the  feather'd  train  '. 

For  whom  1  fing,  for  whom  1  burn, 
Attend  with  pity  to  my  llrain, 

And  grant  my  love  a  kind  return. 

For  fee,  the  wint'ry  ftorms  are  flown, 
And  zephyrs  gently  fan  the  air; 

Let  us  the  genial  influence  own, 
Let  us  the  vernal  paitime  (hare. 

The  raven  plumes  his  jetty  wing, 
To  pleai'e  his  croaking  paramour, 

The  larks  refponfive  carolsjing, 
And  tell  their  paflion  as  they  foar  ; 

But  does  the  raven's  fable  wing 

Excel  the  gloffy  jet  of  mine  ? 
Or  can  the  lark  more  fweetly  fing, 

Than  we,  who  ftrength  with  ioftnefs  join ; 

O  let  me  then  thy  fleps  attend  ! 

I'll  point  new  treafures  to  thy  fight : 
Whether  the  grove  thy  wifh  befriend, 

Or  hedgf-rows  green,  or  meadows  bright. 


?|z  THE  WORKS   OF  JAG* 

I'll  guide  thec  to  the  cleared  rill, 

Whofe  ftreams  among  the  pebbles  ftray ; 
There  will  we  lip,  and  fip  our  fill, 

Or  on  the  flew'ry  margin  play. 


I'll  lead  thee  to  the  thickeft  brake, 
Impervious  to  the  fchool-bo-.  's  eye  ; 

For  thee  the  plafter'd  neft  I'll  make, 
And  to  thy  downy  bofom  fly. 

When,  prompted  by  a  mother's  care, 

Thy  waimth  flia.l  form  th'  imprifon'd  young, 

The  pleating  talk  I'll  gladly  (hare, 
Or  cheer  thy  labour-  with  a  fong. 

To  bring  thee  food  I'll  range  the  fields, 

And  cull  the  bed  of  ev'ry  kind, 
Whatever  nature's  bounty  yields, 

And  love's  afliduous  care  can  find. 

And  when  my  lovely  mate  would  ftray, 
To  tafte  the  furomer  fweets  at  large, 

I'll  wait  at  home  the  live-long  day, 
And  fondly  tend  our  little  charge. 

Then  prove  with  me  the  fweets  of  love, 

With  me  divide  the  cares  of  life, 
No  bum  (hall  boaft  in  all  the  grove, 

A  mate  fo  fond,  fo  bleil  a  wife. 

He  ceas'd  his  fong— the  plumy  dame 
Heard  with  delight  the  love-fick  ftrain, 

Nor  long  conceal'd  a  mutual  flame, 
Nor  long  reprefs'd  his  am'rous  pain. 

He  led  her  to  the  nuptial  bow'r, 

And  perch'd  with  triumph  by  her  fide; 

What  gilded  roof  could  boatl  that  hour 
A  fonder  mate,  or  happier  bride  ? 

Next  morn  he  wak'd  her  with  a  fong  ; 

Behold,  he  laid,  the  new-bjrn  day, 
The  lark  his  mattin-peal  has  rung, 

Arife,  my  love,  and  come  away. 

Together  through  the  fields  they  ftray'd, 
And  to  the  murm'ring  riv'let's  fide, 

Renew'd  their  vows,  and  hopp'd,  and  play'd 
With  artlefs  joy,  and  decent  pride. 

When  O  !  with  grief  my  mufe  relates 
What  dire  misfortune  clos'd  the  tale, 

Sent  by  a-1  order  from  the  fates, 
A  gunner  met  them  in  the  vale. 

Alarm'd,  the  lover  cried,  my  dear, 
Hafte.  halte  away,  from  danger  fly ; 

Here,  gunner,  point  thy  thunder  here, 
O  fpare  my  love,  and  let  me  die. 

At  him  the  gunner  took  his  aim, 
Too  fure  the  volley'd  thunder  flew  ! 

O  had  he  chofe  fome  other  game, 
Or  fliot— as  he  was  wont  to  do  ! 

Divided  pair  !  forgive  the  wrong, 

While  I  Wnh  tears  your  fate  rehearfe, 
I'll  join  the  widow's  plaintive  fong, 
And  feve  the  lover  in  my  veri'e. 


THE  GOLDFINCHES- 

AN    ELEGY. 

To  William  Shenftoiie,  Efq. 

i 

"  Ingenuas  didicifle  fideliter  artes 
"  Emollit  mores,  nee  finit  efle  feros. 

To  you,  whofe  groves  protect  the  feather'd  choirs, 
Who  lend  their  artlefs  notes  a  willing  ear, 

To  you,  whom  pity  moves,  and  tafte  infpires-, 
The  Doric  ftrain  belongs,  O  Shenitone,  hear. 

'Twas  gentle  Spring,  when  all  the  plumy  race. 
By  nature  taught,  in  nuptial  leagues  combine  t 

A  goldfinch  joy'd  to  meet  the  warm  embrace, 
And  with  her  mate  in  love's  delights  to  join. 

All  in  a  garden,  on  a  currant  bum, 

With  wond'rous  art  they  built  their  airy  feat ; 
In  the  next  orchard  liv'd  a  friendly  thrulh, 

Nor  diftant  far  a  woodiark's  foft  retreat. 

Here  bleft  with  cafe,  and  in  each  other  bleft, 
With  early  fongs  they  wak'd  the  neighb'ring 
groves, 

Till  time  matur'd  their  joys,  and  crown'd  theirneft 
With  infant  pledges  of  their  faithful  loves. 

And  now  what  tranfport  glow'd  in  cither's  eye  I 
What  equal  fondnefs  dealt  th'  allotted  food  ? 

What  joy  each  other's  likenefs  to  defcry, 
And  future  fonnets  in  the  chirping  brood  ! 

But  ah  !  what  earthly  happinefs  can  laft  ? 

How  does  the  fail  eft  purpofe  often  fail  ? 
A  truant  fchoolboy's  wantonnefs  could  blaft 

Their  rlatt'ring  hopes,  and  leave  them  both  t» 
wail. 

The  moft  ungentle  of  his  tribe  was  he, 

No  geu'rous  precept  ever  touch'd  his  heart, 

With  concord  falfe,  and  hideous  profody 

He  fcrawl'd  his  taik,  and  blunder'd  o'er  his 
part. 

On  mifchief  bent,  he  mark'd,  with  rav'nous  eyes, 
Where  wrapt  in  down  the  callow  fongfterslay. 

Then  ruining,  rudely  feiz'd  the  glittering  prize, 
And  bore  it  in  his  impious  hands  away  '. 

But  how  fliall  I  defcribe,  in  numbers  rude, 
The  pangs  for  poor  Chryfomitris  decreed, 

When  from  her  fecret  (land  aghaft  (he  view'tT 
The  cruel  fpoiler  perpetrate  the  deed  ? 

O  grief  of  griefs  !   with  fhrieking  voice  die  cried, 
What  fight  is  this  that  I  have  liv'd  to  fee  1 

O  !   that  I  had  in  youth's  fair  feafon  died, 

From  love's  falfe  joys,  and  bitter  forrows  free. 

Was  it  for  this,  alas  !  with  weary  bill, 

Was  it  for  this  I  pois'd  th'  unwieldy  draw  ? 

For  this  I  bore  the  roofs  from  yonder  hill, 

Nor  (hunn'd  the  pond'rous  ftick  along  to  draw  2 

Was  it  for  this  I  pick'd  the  wool  with  care, 
Intent  with  nicer  feill  our  work  to  crown; 


MICELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


for  this,  with  pain,  I  bent  the   ttubborn   hair, 
And  lin'd  our  craddle  with  the  thiftle's  down  ? 

Was  it  for  this  my  freedom  I  relign'd, 

And  ceas'd  to  rove  at  large  from  plain  to  plain ; 

For  this  I  fat  at  home  whole  daysconfin'd, 

To  bear  the  fcorching  heat,  and  p.aling  rain  ? 

Was  it  for  this  my  watchful  eyes  grow  dim  ? 

For  this  the  rofes  on  my  cheek  turn  pale  ? 
Pale  is  my  golden  plumage,  once  fo  trim  ! 

And  all  my  wonted  mirth  and  fpirits  fail  ! 

O  plund'rer  vile  !  O  more  than  adders  fell '. 

More  murd'rous  than  the  cat,  with  prudifhface! 
Fiercer  than  kites  in  whom  the  furies  dwell, 

And  thievilh  as  the  cuckow's  pilf'ring  racel 

May  juicy  plumbs  for  thee  forbear  to  grow, 
For  thee  no  flow'r  unveil  its  charming  dies; 

May  biich  trees  thrive  to  work  thee  (harper  woe, 
And  lift'iiing  itarlings  mock  thy  frantic  cries. 

Thus  fang  the  mournful  bird  her  piteous  tale, 
The  piteous  tale  her  mourfui  mate  returr.'d, 

Then  fide  by  fide  they  fought  the  diltant  vale, 
And  there  in  fccret  fadnefs  inly  mourn 'd. 

THE  SWALLOWS. 

AN  ELEGY. 
PART  I. 

£RE  yellow  Autumn  from  our  plains  retir'd, 
And  gave  to  wint'ry  ftorms  the  varied  year, 

The  fwallow-race  with  prefcient  gift  inipn'd, 
To  fouthern  climes  prepar'd  their   courfe  to 
fteer. 

On  Damon's  roof  a  large  aflembly  fate, 
His  roof  a  refuge  to  the  feather'd  kind  ! 

"With  fcrious  look  he  mark'd  the  grave  debate, 
And  to  his  Delia  thus  addrefs'd  his  mind: 

Obferve  yon  tvvitt'ring  flock,  my  gentle  maiii ! 

Obferve,  and  read  thewond'rouswaysof  Heav'n! 
"With  us  through  Summer's  genial  reign  they 
ftay'd. 

And  food,  andfunfliine  totheir  wants  weregiv'n. 

But  now,  by  fecret  inftinft  taught,  they  know 
The  near  approach  of  elemental  Itrife, 

Of  bluft'ring  tempeits,  and  of  chilling  fnow, 
With  ev'ry  pang,  and  fcourge  of  tender  iife. 

Thus  warn'd  they  meditate  a  fpeedy  flight, 
From  this  ev'n  now  they  prune  their  vig'rous 

wing. 
For  this  each  other  to  the  toil  excite, 

And   prove  their  ftiength    in  many  a  fportive 
ring. 

Ko  forrow  loads  their  breads,  or  dims  their  eye, 
To  quit  their  wonted  haunts,  or  native  home, 

tJor  fear  they  launching  on  the  boundlefs  flcy, 
In  fearch  of  future  fettlements  to  roam. 

They  feel  a  pow'r,  an  impulfe  all  divine, 
That  warns  them  hence,  they  feel  it,  and  obey, 


To  this  direction  all  their  cares  refign, 

Unknown  their  deftm'd  ftage,  unmark'd  their 
way. 

Peace  ta  your  flight '.  ye  mild  domeftic  race  !   " 
O  !  for  your  wings  to  travel  with  the  fun  ! 

Health  brace  your  nerves,  and  zephyrs  aid  your 

pace, 
Till  your  long  voyage  happily  be  done. 

See,  Delia,  on  my  roof  your  guefts  to-day, 
To-morrow  on  my  roof  your  guefts  no  more, 

Ere  yet  'tis  night  with  hafte  they  wing  away, 
To-morrow  lands  them  on  fome  happier  fhore. 

How  juft  the  moral  in  this  fcene  conveyM ! 

And  what  without  a  moral  ?  would  we  read  . 
Then  mark  what  Damon  tells  his  gentle  maid. 

And  with  his  leflon  regifter  the  deed. 

So  youthful  joys  fly  like  the  Summer's  gale, 
So  threats  the  winter  of  inclement  age, 

Life's  bufy  plot  a  fliort,  fantaftic  tale  ! 

And  nature's  changeful  icenes  the  fliifting  ftage ' 

And  does  no  friendly  pow'r  to  man  difpenfe 
The  joyful  tidings  of  lome  happier  clime  ? 

Find  we  no  guide  in  gracious  Providence 

Beyond  the  gloomy  grave,  and  mort-liv'd  time? 

Yes,  yes  the  facred  oracles  we  hear, 

That  point  the  path  to  realms  of  endlefs  joy, 

That  bid  our  trembling  hearts  no  danger  fear, 
Though  clouds  iurround,  and  angry  Ikies  an- 
noy. 

Then  let  us  wifely  for  our  flight  prepare, 

Nor  count  this  ftormy  world  our  fix'd  abode, 

Obey  the  call,  and  truft  our  Leader's  care, 

To  fmooth  the  rough,  and  light  the  darkfome 
road. 

Mofes,  by  grant  divine,  led  Ifrael's  hoft 

Through  dreary  paths  to  Jordan's  fruitful  fide  ; 

But  we  a  loftier  theme  than  theirs  can  boaft, 
A  better  promife,  and  a  nobler  guide. 


Ax  length  Winter's  howling  blafts  are  o'er, 
Array'd  in  fmiles  the  lovely  Spring  returns, 

Now  fuell'ci  hearths  attractive  blaze  no  more, 
And  ev'ry  breaft  with  inward  fervour  burns. 

Again  the  dailies  peep,  the  violets  blew, 
Again  the  vocal  tenants  of  the  grove 

Forgot  the  patt'ring  hail,  or  driving  fnow, 
Renew  the  lay  to  melody,  and  love. 

And  fee,  my  Delia,  fee  o'er  yonder  ftream, 

Where,  on  the  bar.k,  the  lambs  in  gambols  play, 

Alike  attracted  by  the  funny  gleam, 

Again  the  iwallows  take  their  wonted  way. 

Welcome,  ye  gentle  tribe,  your  fports  purfue, 
Welcome  again  to  Delia,  and  to  me, 

Your  peaceful  councils  on  my  roof  renew, 
And  plan  new  fettlements  from  danger  free. 

Again  I'll  Men  to  your  grave  debates, 

Again  I'll  h«ar  your  twm'ring  longs  unfold 


What  policy  directs  your  wand'ring  ftates, 

What  bounds  are  fettled  and  what  tribes  en- 
rolPd. 

Again  I'll  hear  you  tell  of  diftant  lands, 

What  infect  nations  rife  from  Egypt's  mud, 

"What  painted  fwarms  fubfift  on  Lybia's  fands, 
VVhat  Ganges  yields,  and  what  th*  Euphratean 
flood. 

Thrice  happy  race  !  whom  nature's  call  invites 
To  travel  o'er  her  realms  with  active  wing, 

Totafte  her  various  ftores,  her  beft  delights, 

The  Summer's   radiance,  and   the   i'weets    of 
Spring. 

While  we  are  doom'd  to  bear  the  reftlefs  change 
Of  varying  feafons,  vapours  dank,  and  dry, 


Forbid  like  you  in  milder  climes  to  range, 
When  wint'ry  ftorms  ufurp  the  low'ring  Iky, 

Yet  know  the  period  to  your  joys  affign'd, 
Know  ruin  hovers  o'er  this  earthly  ball, 

As  lofty  tow'rs  ftoop  proftrate  to  the  wind, 
Its  fecret  props  of  adamant  (hall  fall. 

But  when  yon  radiant  fun  fliail  ftiine  no  more. 

The  fpirit,  freed  from  fin's  tyrannic  fway, 
On  lighter  pinions  borne  than  yours  (hall  foar 

To  iairer  realms  beneath  a  brighter  .ray. 

To  plains  ethereal,  and  celeftialbow'rs, 
Where  wint'ry  ftorms  no  rude  accefs  obtain, 

Where  blafts  no  lightning,  and  no  t,empefl  low'rf 
But  ever-ftniling  Spring  and  pleifare  reign. 


THE 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  F 


JOHN    SCOTT, 


Containing 


MORAL  ECLOGUES, 

ELEGIES, 

AMWELL, 

AMOEBAEAN  ECLOGUES, 

ORIENTAL  ECLOGUES, 


ESSAY  ON  PAINTING, 

MEXICAN    PROPHECY, 

ODES, 

EPISTLES, 

SONNETS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE  LIFE   OF  "THE  AUTHOR. 


Accept  then  this,  nor  more  require  ; 
The  mufe  no  farther  taik  eflays  ; 
But,  'midft  the  fylvan  fcenes,  fhe  loves 
The  falling  rills,  and  whifpering  groves; 
With  fmiles  her  labours  paft  furveys, 
And  quits  the  fyrinx  and  the  lyre. 


CONCLUSION.      TO  A  FRIENt). 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE, 
Annt  1795, 


THE  LIFE  OF  SCOTT. 


*OR  the  life  of  SCOTT,  "  the  poet  of  Amwell,"  the  world  is  obliged  to  John  Hoolc,  Elq.,  the  tranf- 
lator  of  "  Taflb,"  and  editor  of  his  Critical  EJ/ays,  who  was  his  intimate  friend,  and  wrote  from  per- 
fonal  knowledge. 

The  fads  ftated  in  the  prefent  account,  are  chiefly  taken  from  Mr.  Hoole's  narrative,  with  fuclt 
additional  information  as  the  "  European  Magazine"  for  1782,  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for 
1783,  and  fubfequent  publications,  have  iupplicd. 

John  Scott  was  born  in  the  Grange- Walk,  in  the  parifli  of  St.  Bermondfey,  Southwark,  Jan.  9. 
1730.  He  was  defcended  from  two  ancient  and  refpectable  families  in  the  counties  of  York  and 
Warwick.  His  father,  Mr.  Samuel  Scott,  was  a  linen-draper  and  citizen  of  London ;  a  man  of  plain 
and  irreproachable  manners,  and  one  of  the  fociety  of  the  people  called  Quakers ;  among  whom  he 
•was  efteemed  as  an  eminent  preacher.  His  mother's  maiden  name  was  Martha  Wilkins.  He  wa» 
the  youngeft  of  two  fons,  their  only  children  that  lived  to  be  brought  up,  the  reft  dying  very  foon. 

At  about  fevcn  years  of  age,  he  was  put  under  the  tuition  of  one  John  Clarke,  who  kept  a  little 
fchool  in  Barnaby  Street,  and  ufed  to  come  home  to  his  father's  houfe,  to  inftrudt  him  in  the  rudi 
ments  of  the  Latin  tongue. 

He  himfelf  gives  the  following  account  of  his  tutor :— "  My  Caledonian  tutor's  name  was  Joha 
Clarke ;  he  was,  I  believe,  a  native  of  the  Shetland  iflands ;  he  was  ingenious  and  learned,  but  rather 
a  fevere  pedagogue  ;  yet,  fpite  of  the  domination  which  he  exercifed  over  his  pupils,  I  refpected  him: 
and  there  was  fomething  in  the  man,  and  in  his  manner,  that  I  even  now  faintly  recoiled  with  plea- 
fure." 

In  1740,  being  then  only  ten  years  of  age,  his  father  removing  to  Amwell,  near  Ware  in  Hert- 
fordfliire,  he  was  deprived  of  the  benefit  that  might  have  arifen  to  him  from  the  (kill  and  attention  of 
fo  able  a  matter  as  Clarke ;  who  continued  to  teach  fchool  in  the  fame  place,  till  death  carried  hin» 
off,  probably  as  little  known  as  he  had  lived. 

Soon  after  the  removal  of  the  family  to  Amwell,  he  was  fent  to  a  private  day-fchool  kept  at 
Ware  ;  the  niafter  of  which  was  named  Hall,  who  is  faid  to  have  been  an  admirable  penman ;  but 
Joes  not  appear  to  have  afforded,  in  his  fchool,  any  opportunities  of  claflic.il  improvement. 

He  continued  with  him  but  a  Ihort  time,  and  purfued  his  education  in  a  lax  and  defultory  man 
ner ;  for,  not  having  had  the  fmall  pox,  he  was  frequently  kept  at  home,  through  fear  of  that  diftem- 
j)er,  and  never  perfifted  in  a  regular  fyftem  of  education. 

Whatever  difadvantages  might  refult  from  thefe  circumftances,  he  muft  have  repaired  by  his  own 
application,  as  no  mark  of  it  is  vifible  in  his  writings. 

He  is  faid  to  have  applied  himfelf  to  reading  about  the  age  of  feventeen,  when  he  difcovered  aa 
ardent  propenfity  to  the  ftudy  of  poetry ;  in  which  he  was  greatly  encouraged  by  an  acquaintance 
which  he  contracted  about  1747  or  1748,  with  Charles  Frogley,  a  man  of  ftrong  parts,  but  with 
out  education,  who  had  improved  his  mind  by  folitary  reading  and  reflection  ;  and  had  a  peculiar 
predilection  for  that  branch  of  ftudy  which  foon  became  the  favourite  purfuit  of  Scott. 

Frogley  was  by  trade  a  bricklayer:  "His  occupation  in  life  firft  introduced  him  into  the  family. 
A  fimilanty  of  difpofition  foon  brought  on  an  intimacy  between  them,  and  Frogley  gave  his  young 
friend  the  fi  ft  perception  of  good  poetry,  by  putting  into  his  hands  the  "  Paradife  Loft"  of  Milton. 

His  father  carried  on,  for  fome  time,  the  making  trade  ;  but  lived  in  a  very  retired  manner,  having 
little  intcrcourfe  with  any  but  tliofe  of  hi*  own  pcrfuafion ;  who,  though  not  without  frequent  in- 


7i8  THE  LIFE   OF   SCOTT. 

icances  of  great  ingenuity  and  ability  among  individuals,  are  not  often  much  connected  with  the  li» 
terary  part  of  mankind. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Amwell  affording  little  of  fuch  fociety,  his  converfations  and  reflections 
on  his  favourite  ftudies,  muft  have  been  therefore  chiefly  confined  to  his  communications  with  Frog- 
ky,  whofe  critical  difcernment  was  fo  accurate,  that  he  feldom  found  reafon,  in  his  advancing  flats 
wf  judgment,  to  diffent  from  the  opinion  of  his  friend. 

Betides  the  advantage  of  fo  fincere  an  advifer  as  Frogley,  he  had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  Mr. 
John  Turner,  who  refided  at  Ware,  and  who  feems  firft  to  have  been  introduced  to  him  by  Frogley, 
in  1753  or  1754- 

Mr.  Turner  was  born  at  Hertford  in  1734;  and  was  removed  to  Ware  at  about  three  years  old, 
where  he  received  the  rudiments  of  his  education.  At  about  fixteen  years  of  age  he  was  fent  t« 
London,  to  continue  his  ftudies  at  a  diffenting  academy,  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Jennings.  He,  how 
ever,  made  occafional  vifits  to  his  friends  at  Ware,  and  neglected  no  opportunity  of  improving  his 
intimacy  with  Scott.  He  paffed  many  hours  with  him  and  Frogley  ;  and  during  his  ablence,  conti 
nued  to  corrcfpond  with  him  by  letter. 

It  appears  from  his  letteri,  that  he  fupplied  him  from  time  to  time  with  books ;  among  which  are 
particularly  mentioned,  Glover's  "  Leonidas,"  Thomfon's  "  Sealbns,"  and  Pope's  original  works 
and  truncations.  He  likewife  fent  him  a  telefcope,  with  directions  to  ufe  it ;  for  the  curiofity  and 
defire  of  knowledge  in  Scott  now  grew  every  day  more  general. 

In  the  company  of  Frogley,  who  was  accuftomed  to  vifit  him  when  the  bufmefs  of  the  day  was 
over,  he  paffed  moft  of  his  evenings ;  and  to  him  and  his  friend  Turner,  from  time  to  time,  he  com- 
nwmicated  his  performances,  receiving  from  them  fuch  advice  as  tended  greatly  to  ripen  his  judgment ; 
but  he  was  always  difiuaded  from  too  early  publication  ;  by  whith  many  have  precluded  themfelvcs. 
from  that  reputation  which  they  might  otherwife  have  obtained. 

**  k  has  been  affcrted  by  fome,"  fays  Mr.  Hoole,  "  that  his  early  poetical  effays  were  made  in 
confequence  of  a  tender  pafiion,  and  that  love  firft  taught  him  to  cultivate  the  mufes ;  which  opinion 
may  not  only  have  fome  countenance  from  the  fmaller  poems  at  the  end  of  his  poetical  volume,  but 
may  be  farther  ftrengthened  from  the  correfpondence  between  him  and  his  friend  Turner,  during 
the  refidence  of  the  latter  in  London  and  Devonftjire." 

His  firft  poetical  effays  appeared  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  to  which  he  was  afterwards  a 
frequent  contributor.  His  verfion  of  the  1 2th  chapter  of  Ecclefiaftes,  intituled,  Epidemic  Mortality, 
in  December  Magazine  1753  ;  Verfe$  occafioned  by  the  defeription  of  the  JRelian  Harp,  in  November  Ma 
gazine  1754;  and  verfes  on  Fear,  in  July  Magazine  1758, — are  all  that  can  be  traced  with  certainty. 
He  likewife  wrote  feveral  Prjlerals  about  the  fame  time  ;-but  it  cannot  be  known  if  any,  or  what  ufe 
•was  made  of  them  in  his  laft  publications. 

In  1754,  kJs  elder  brother  Samuel,  who  till  then  had  made  one  of  the  family  at  Amwell,  was  mar 
ried,  and  went  to  fettle  at  Hertford,  "  in  which  town,"  fays  Mr.  Hoole,  "  he  now  [1785]  refides,  be 
loved  and  efteemed  by  all,  for  his  manly  fenfe,  unbiaffed  integrity,  and  univerfal  philanthropy." 

In  1757,  his  friend  Turner,  who  had  been  Ibme  time  preparing  for  the  miniftry,  left  Dr.  Jennings, 
«n  account  of  fome  difference  of  opinion  in  matters  of  religion,  and  removed  to  Taunton  in  Somer,- 
fetftiire,  where  he  finifhed  his  ftudies.  About  1758,  he  became  paftor  of  a  diffenting  congregation 
at  Lympftone  in  Devonfhire;  and  about  1762,  he  engaged  with  the  tfev.  Mr.  Hogg  and  another 
gentleman,  as  tutor  and  manager  of  an  academy  at  Exeter ;  but  he  continued  ftill  to  correfpond  with 
Scott,  and  in  time  of  vacation  paid  feveral  vifits  to  Ware.  The  verfes  To  an  ALfent  Friend,  are  fup- 
jofed  to  have  been  addreffed  to  Turner. 

While  thou  far  hence,  on  Albion's  fouthern  fhore, 
View'ft  her  white  rocks,  and  hear'ft  her  ocean  roar; 
Through  fcenes  where  we  together  ftray'd,  1  ftray, 
And  think  o'er  talk  of  many  a  long  pail  day. 

He  alfo  addreffed  to  him,  Winter  Amnfements  in  the  Country,  an  epiftle,  which  was  intended  for  the 
"  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  but  appeared  in  "  Pearch's  Collection  of  Poems,"  1770. 

For  about  twenty  years  after  the  removal  of  the  family  to  Amwell,  he  led  a  very  retired  life ; 
for  his  father  and  mother  being  very  apprehenfive  Q£  the  danger  that  might  be  incurred  from  the 


THE   LIFE    OF    SCOTT.  ;jy 

infection  of  the  Imall-pox,  he  feldom  went  from  home ;  and,  however  extraordinary  it  may  appear, 
though  only  at  the  diftance  of  twenty  miles,  he  is  faid  to  have  -vifited  London  but  once  during  fi> 
long  a  period. 

Though  he  very  early  acquired  the  friendfhip  and  efteem  of  a  large  circle  of  acquaintance,  yet  he 
docs  not  appear  to  have  been  known  to  any  literary  characters  till  1760;  auer  which  he  began  tp 
make  occaiional,  though  cautious  and  fhort  vifits  to  London. 

In  the  fpring  1760,  being  then  thirty  years  of  age,  after  many  repeated  revifals  and  corrections,  he 
publiflied  his  four  Elegies,  Difiripti-ue  and  Moral,  410,  which  were  honoured  with  a  very  particular 
and  liberal  approbation,  and  publicly  praiied  and  recommended  by  Young,  Mrs.  Talbot,  Mrs.  Carter, 
and  other  eminent  characters. 

When  the  author  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  received  a  copy  of  the  Elegies  from  his  bookfeller,  he 
returned  his  acknowledgment  in  thefe  words  -.  "  Sir,  I  thank  you  for  your  prefent ;  I  admire  the 
poetry  and  piety  of  the  author,  and  fliall  do  myfelf  the  credit  to  recommend  it  to  all  my  friends." 
This  praife  was  truly  valuable,  as  it  was  not  the  voice  of  adulation  to  greatnefs,  of  ignorance  to  ce 
lebrity,  or  of  partiality  to  friendship ;  but  the  fanction  of  learning,  tafle,  and  genius,  given  to  modefh 
and  retired  merit. 

His  acquaintance  was  now  confiderably  enlarged,  and  he  was  introduced  to  feveral  of  the  literati, 
with  whom  he  had  little  or  no  connection  before  the  appearance  of  his  Elugia.  But  the  praife  which 
lie  received  upon  this  occafion,  did  not  in  the  leaft  excite  his  vanity  to  claim  again  the  attention  of 
the  public.  He  wrote  little,  and  printed  nothing  till  1768.  His  natural  caution  and  diffidence  feem- 
etl  to  incrcafe :  he  always  exprefied  the  ftrongeft  fenfe  of  the  neceffity  of  frequent  revifal  before  pub 
lication  ;  and  no  writer  adhered  more  firictly  than  himfelf,  to  the  well-known  precept  of  Horace— 
nonum  prcmatur  in  annum. 

In  1761,  the  fmall-pox  being  prevalent  in  the  town  of  Ware,  he  removed  for  fome  time  to  St.  Mar 
garets,  a  fmall  hamlet,  at  the  diftance  of  about  two  miles  from  Amwell,  when:  Mr.  Hoole  was  intro 
duced  to  his  acquaintance  by  Mr.  Bennet,  then  mafler  of  the  grammar  fchool  at  Hodddbn,  where 
they  accidentally  met. 

"  I  fliall  always  recollect  with  pleafure,"  fays  Mr.  Hoole,  "  my  firft  converfation  with  Mr.  Scott 
at  St.  Margarets,  where  he  {bowed  me  the  early  fketch  of  his  poem  of  Amiudl,  which  he  then  called 
a  ProfpcSl  cf  Ware,  and  the  Country  adjacent.  This  flcetch  was  afterwards  greatly  enlarged  before  its  ap 
pearance  in  1776;  and  in  the  courfe  of  our  converfation,  he  fliowed  me  feveral  uianufcript  piece*, 
{bme  of  which  were  made  part  of  his  poetical  volume." 

Having  found  the  frequent  difadvantages  and  inconveniencies  arifing  from  his  appreheniion  of  the 
fmall-pox,  which  prevented  him  from  mixing  frequently  with  the  world,  and  improving  that  ac 
quaintance  at  London,  of  which  his  increafmg  reputation  and  love;  of  knowledge  made  him  now  more 
defirous,  he  refolved  at  once  to  remove  every  fear  of  that  diftemper,  by  fubmitting^ to  the  operatioa 
of  inoculation,  which  he  accordingly  did,  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Dimfdaie,  in  1 776,  with  Mr.  Jofepb. 
Cockfield,  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  lived  for  fome  years  in  great  intimacy,  and  to  whom  he 
addrefled  his  I2th  OJe.  He  writes  to  a  friend,  that  "  they  had  not  one  day's  confinement,  though 
fufficient  tokens  to  fecure  them  from  future  fear  or  danger." 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Hoole  introduced  him  to  the  acquaintance  of  his  friend  Dr.  Johnfon  ;  "  and 
notwithftanding,"  fays  his  biographer,  "  the  great  difference  of  their  political  principles,  Scott  had 
top  much  love  for  goodnefs.  and  genius,  not  to  be  highly  gratified  in  the  opportunity  of  cultivating 
a  friendfliip  with  that  great  exemplar  of  human  virtues,  and  that  great  veteran  of  human  learning; 
•while  the  Doctor,  with  a  mind  fuperior  to  the  diftinction  of  party,  delighted  with  equal  complacency 
in  the  amiable  qualities  of  Scott,  of  whdm  he  always  fpoke  with  feeling  regard.1' 

He  had  a  very  early  paflion  for  gardening  ;  and  hi  1765  and  1766,  he  amufed  himfelf  in  laying 
out  and  enibellifhing  a  few  acres  of  his  own  ground,  which  are  thought  not  unworthy  the  attention 
of  Grangers  who  come  accidentally  into  that  neighbourhood.  In  theft;  plantation*  is  a  grotto,  of  his 
own  defign,  confidered  as  one  of  the  curiofities  of  the  country.  Hi*  friend  Turner,  procured  him 
foflils  and  fhells  for  the  completion  of  this  work,  in  which  he  frequently  exerted  his  own  manual  la 
bour  ;  and  he  told  M/.  Hoole  that,  in  nuking  the  excavation  under  the  lull  for  the  fubterraueous 


?«•  THE  LIFE  OF  SCOTT. 

paffage,  he  marched  firft,  like  a  pioneer,  with  his  pick-ax  in  his  hand,  ,to  encourage  his  ruftic  aflifc- 
ants.  Thefe  pleafure  grounds  have  given  rife  to  an  epiftle  intituled  The  Garden. 

In  1766,  he  loft  his  mother,  who  died  on  the  I4th  of  December,  aged  eighty  years.  ASonntt  t» 
her  is  £iid  to  have  been  found  among  his  manufcripts. 

In  1767,  he  was  married  to  Sarah  Frogley,  the  daughter  of  his  friend  Froglcy,  of  whom  fuch 
deferved  and  honourable  mention  has  been  made.  The  bride  was,  previous  to  her  nuptials,  admitted 
a  member  of  the  fociety  to  which  he  belonged ;  and  the  nuptials  were  celebrated  at  the  Quaker's 
meeting-houfe  at  Chefliunt,  in  Hertfordfhire. 

The  connection  between  Scott  and  Frogley  being  ftrengthened  by  this  marriage,  Scott  fhowed 
many  afts  of  kindnefs  to  the  companion  of  his  early  fludies,  to  whom  he  always  continued  firmly  at 
tached  ;  of  which  attachment  he  has  left  a  public  teftimony  in  his  nth  Ode,  addreffed  to  a  friend  ap- 
prehenfive  of  declining  friendfhip  ;  which  feems  to  have  been  written  in  order  to  difiipate  fome  lit 
tle  uneafinefs  that  might  have  arifen  in  the  mind  of  Frogley,  from  a  fear  of  being  neglected  by  Scott, 

Too  much  in  man's  imperfect  ftate, 

Miftake  produces  ufelefs  pain  ; 
Methinks  on  friendfhip's  frequent  fate, 
N  I  hear  my  Frogley's  voice  complain.— 

Deem  not  that  Time's  oblivious  hand 

From  Memory's  page  has  raz'd  the  days, 
By  Lee's  green  verge  we  wont  to  ftand^ 

And  on  his  cryftal  current  gaze. 

He  was  now  to  experience  the  moft  fevere  ftroke  he  had  ever  met  with ;  after  having  loft  his  fa* 
ther,  who  died  in  February  1768,  in  the  84th  year  of  his  age,  he  was  deprived  of  his  wife,  who  died 
in  childbed  in  the  fame  year,  leaving  behind  her  a  child  of  which  (he  had  been  delivered,  that  died 
the  following  Auguft. 

Till  the  death  of  his  mother,  his  life  feems  to  have  run  in  one  even  tenor,  calm  and  unruffled ;  but 
hs  was  now  called  to  an  exertion  of  that  philofophy,  which  made  no  inconfiderable  part  of  his  cha 
racter.  For  fome  time  after  the  de.rth  of  his  wife,  he  retired  to  the  houfe  of  his  friend  Cockfield,  at 
Upton,  that,  removed  from  thofe  fcenes  which  perpetually  awakened  every  tender  idea,  his  mind 
might,  by  degrees,  recover  its  tranquillity.  Of  this  circumftance  he  fpeaks  in  his  lath  Ode,  addreffed 

to  him. 

Twas  when  Misfortune's  ftroke  fevere, 
And  Melancholy's  prefence  drear, 

Had  made  my  AmwelFs  groves  difpleafe, 
That  thine  my  weary  fteps  receiv'd, 
And  much  the  change  my  mind  reliev'd, 

And  much  thy  kindnefs  gave  me  eafe,  &c. 

When  the  firft  violence  of  his  grief  began  to  fettle  into  a  fedate  and  gentle  forrow,  he  folaced  his 
lonely  hours  by  compofmg  an  Elegy  to  the  memory  of  one  who  had  been  fo  dear  to  him.  If  we  were 
to  eftimat?  the  poignancy  of  his  grief  by  this  pathetic  performance,  we  cannot  doubt  the  ardour  of  a 
pafSon  which  is,  of  all  others,  the  moft  tender  and  fympathetic. 

The  Elegy  was  written  at  Amwell,  in  1768 ;  a  few  copies  only  were  printed,  and  privately  diftri- 
buted  among  his  friends.  At  his  defire,  Mr.  Hoole  prefented  a  copy  to  Dr.  Hawkefworth,  who  fpoke 
of  it  in  the  higheft  terms  of  commendation.  A  copy  alfo  was  fent  to  Langhorne,  whofe  firft  wife 
died  in  childbed  in  the  fame  month  that  proved  fatal  to  the  wife  of  Scott ;  a  fimilarity  of  circum 
ftance  to  which  he  alludes,  and  to  his  pathetic  "  Verfes  written  at  Sandgate  Caftle,  in  memory  »f  a 
i»ady,"  in  the  following  ftanzas. 

Nor  mine  alone  to  bear  this  painful  doom  ; 

Nor  fhe  alone  the  tear  of  fong  obtains : 
The  Mufc of  BLigaoa  o'er  Conjlantia's  tomb, 

In  all  the  eloquence  of  grief  complains. 
My  friend's  fair  hope,  like  mine,  fo  lately  gain'd, 

His  heart,  like  mine,  in  its  true  partner  bleft ; 
Both  from  one  caufe  the  fame  diftrefs  fuftain'd ; 

The  fame  fad  hours  beheld  us  both  diftreft. 

This  Gmilarity  of  circumftance  and  congenial  affliction,  gave  rife  to  a  friendfhip  betsvetn  thefe  tw« 
jocts,  which  was  only  interrupted  by  the  death  of  the  ajniable  JLanghorne. 


THE   LIFE   OF  SCOTT.  72* 

th  1769,  he  met  with  another  lofs,  in  the  death  of  his  friend  Turner,  the  companion  and  aflbciate 
fcf  his  early  ftudies  with  Frogley.  This  amiatle  and  ingenious  man  died,  univerfally  lamented,  at 
Colliton  in  Devonfhirc,  on  the  3oth  of  June,  in  the  35th  year  of  his  age.  He  polTefied  confiderablt 
natural  abilities,  and  much  acquired  knowledge,  with  a  candid  difpofition  and  elegant  tafte  ;  and  by 
the  general  tenor  of  his  correfpondence  with  Scott,  appears  to  have  been  always  of  a  religious  ana 
ftudious  turn.  A  pathetic  tribute  is  paid  to  his  memory  by  Scott,  in  his  poem  of  Amtvell,  fpeakinjcf 
the  feveral  lolTcs  which  he  had  experienced  in  the  death  of  his  friends. 

Of  thee,  my  Turner,  .who,  in  vacant  youth, 

Hero  oft  in  converge  free,  or  ftuctious  fcarch 

Of  claffic  lore,  accorhpany'd  my  walk! 

From  Ware's  green  bowers  to  Devon's  myrtle  vales, 

He  mpv'd  a  while  with  proipe-ft  op'ning  fair, 

Of  ufeful  life,  and  honour  in  his  view  ; 

As  falls  the  vernal  bloom  before  the  breath 

Of  blafting  Eurus,  immature  he  fell ! 

The  tidings  reach'd  my  ear,  and  in  iny.breaft, 

Aching  with,  recent  wounds,  new  anguiih  wak'd. 

On  the  ift  of  November  1770,  he  was  married  at  the  Quaker  meeting-houfe  at  Ratcliffe,  to  his  fe- 
cond  wife,  M£ry  De  Home,  daughter  of  the  late  Abraham  De  Home;  a  Iddy  whofe  amiable  qualities 
promifed  him  many  years  of  uninterrupted  happinefs. 

About  the  year  17  7 1 ,  he  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Eeattie,  who  paid  him  two  vlfits  at  his  houfe 
at  Amwell,  one  in  1773,  and  the  other  in  1781.  A  fimilarity  of  tafte  and  of  purfuits  foon  brought 
on  an  intimacy  between  thefe  two  poets,  which  continued  without  abatement  till  the  death  of  Scott. 

His  fettled  refidence  was  at  Amwell,  in  the  fame  houfe  where  his  father  refided,  when  he  firft  re 
tired  from  London,  and  which  he  afterwards  greatly  enlarged ;  but  he  every  year  fperit  a  confider- 
able  part  of  the  winter,  and  fometinies  a  Week  in  lummer,  at  a  houfe  which  he  had  at  Ratcliffe  Crofs. 
By  his  vifits  to  London,  the  number  of  his  literary  friends  had  been  confiderably  increafed.  He  was 
introduced  to  the  elegant  Mrs.  Montague,  at  whole  houfe  he  became  firft  acquainted  with  Lyttle- 
ton;  and  whofe  defence  of  "  Shakfpeare's  injur'd  page"  from  "  Gallic  rage,''  he  has  praifed  in  his 
Ode  to  Criiiciftn.  He  had  been  vifited  at  Ainwell  by  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Macaulay,  the  "  faithful  ad 
vocate  for  freedom ;"  to  whom  he  addreffed  Stanzas  on  reading  her  Hijlory  bf  'England,  1766  ;  firft  print 
ed  with  five  Sennets  in  Pearch's  "  Collection  of  Poems,"  17/0.  He  was  known  to  Dr.  Hawkefworth^ 
Sir  William  Jones,  James  Bofwell,  Efq.  and  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Potter,  the  excellent  tranflator  of  "  JE{- 
chylus  and  Euripides;"  and  Mickle,  whofe  "  well-known  mafterly  trsnflation  of  the  Lufiad  of  Camo-< 
ens,  the  epic  poet  of  Portugal,"  he  has  praifed  in  his  Ode  on  Poetical  Rntlnficfm. 

While  he  refided  in  the  country,  he  divided  his  time  between  the  improvement  of  his  pleafurr- 
grounds,  the  occupations  of  ftudy,  and  the  public  bufinefs  in  the  vicinity  of  his  refidence.  He  was 
very  conftant  in  his  attendance  at  turnpike  meetings,  navigation  trufts,  and  Commiffioners  of  Land 
Tax.  He  took  the  lead  in  feveral  undertakings,  in  which  his  plans  proved  fuccefsful.  Ware  and 
Hertford  are  indebted  to  him  for  opening  a  fpacious  road  between  thofe  towns,  which  was  under 
taken  in  1768,  and  is  juftly  eftcemed  one  of  the  greateft  convcniencies  in  that  part  of  the  country; 
and,  by  his  attention  and  diligence,  alterations  have  been  made  in  the  principal  ftreets  6f  Ware,  to' 
the  great  improvement  of  that  town. 

In  173.5,  he  mowed  the  world  that  his  ftudies  were  not  confined  to  ornament?,!  and  elegant  litera 
ture  ;  but  that  many  of  his  hours  had  been  fpent  in  fuch  nfel'ill  inquiries,  as  might  tend  to  the  general 
benefit  of  mankind.  He  publifhed  a  pamphlet  full  of  good  fenfe  and  philanthropy,  intituled,  Olfer- 
vaiions  on  the  prcfent  State  of  the  Pc.toi.lnal  and  Vagrant  Poor,  8vo;  ill  which  the  caufe  cf  that  unhappy 
part  ,pf  the  community  is  pleaded  with  much  perfpicacity  of  obfervation,  and  perfuafive  energy; 
againft  oppreffive,  or  defective  Jaws,  and  avaricious  parifh  officers.  Mr.  Gilbert,  in  a  bill  brought  into 
the  Houfe  of  Commons,  in  1782,  fcems  to  have  offered  expedients  for  the  prevention  of  impofitiort 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  tyranny  on  the  other,  in  fome  cales  very  fimilar  to  thofe  propofed  by  Scott. 

In  the  fummer  1775,  Mr.  Hoole  paid  a  family  vifit  at  Amwe!!,  acc6rripanied  with  Dr.  Johnfon 
and  Mifs  Williams.  They  ftaid  at  Amwell  fomc  days,  to  the  mutual  fatisfaftion  of  Dr.  Johnfon  and 
Scott ;  whofe  kindnefs  for  each  other  was  not  a  little  flrengthened  by  this  domeftic  intercourfe.  Scoti 
led  Dr.  Johnfon  to  take  a  view  of  his  gardens,  which  were  then  completed;  who,  with  great  pica- 
Vox..' XI.-  '  Z3 


fl*  THE  LIFE   OF  SCOTT. 

fantry,  termed  the  grotto  Fairy  Hall,  and  faid,  with  a  fmile,  that  '•  none  but  a  pout  could  have  made  • 
fuch  a  garden."    It  appi-ars  from  the  epiftle  intituled  The  Garden,  that  the  tafte  of  Scott,  afterwards 
more  cultivated,  would  not  fuffcr  him  always  to  view  his  improved  grounds  with  the  fame  compla 
cency. 

He  had  long  determined  to  prove  his  powers  in  defcriptive  poetry,  and  to  celebrate  the  beauties 
of  his  favourite  village.  He  now  greatly  enlarged  the  fir  ft  plan  of  his  Prsfpe£tofWaret  and  rendered 
it  interefting  by  the  introdu&ion  of  hiflorical  allufions  and  moral  reflections,  with  the  addition  of 
explanatory  notes.  In  1776,  he  publifhed  his  performance,  under  the  title  of  AmivAL,  a  defiiifti-vt 
Poem,  410,  with  liis  name.  He  had  bellowed  much  attention  on  this  poem  ;  and  its  reception  by  the 
Critics  in  general,  and  by  poetical  readers,  was  fuch  as,  from  its  merit,  might  be  cxpe&ed. 

He  employed  his  pen,  at  times,  on  various  anonymous  pamphlets,  and  effays  on  mifcellaneous  fub- 
jects;  and  particularly  in  vindication  of  die  principles  of  political  freedom,  which  he  had  invariably 
.ifpoufed.  His  peculiar  attachment  to  the  popular  part  of  our  conftitution,  made  him  regard,  with 
jealoufy,  the  influence  of  the  Crown  and  of  the  Ariilocracy.  His  active  and  public  fpirit  would  not 
permit  him  to  remain  an  uninterefted  fpci5tator,  when  any  occafion  offered  for  mowing  his  exertions 
for  the  good  of  the  community.  The  calm  and  difpaflionate  temper  of  the  man  of  ftudy  and  retire 
ment,  was  loft  in  the  feafon  of  party  and  turbulence,  when  it  may  reafonably  be  imputed  as  a  crime 
for  any  member  of  fociety  to  obferve  a  frigid  neutrality.  He  difapproved  of  the  conduct  of  Govern 
ment  in  the  American  war  ;  and  nctwithftanding  his  unfeigned  venerafion  for  the  character  of  Dr. 
Johnfon,  he  published  two  pamphlets  in  anfwer  to  his  "  Patriot"  and  "  Falfe  Alarm  ;'*  and  is  faid  to 
have  prepared  an  anfwer  to  u-  Taxation  no  Tyranny."  On  .'hefe  fub>e<fts  the  writings  of  Scott  have 
much  clearnefs  of  argument,  ftrength  of  ftyle,  and  warmth  of  ical  for  that  caufe  which  he  had  efpouf- 
«>d,  upon  generous  and  deliberate  principles. 

When  the  poems  attributed  to  Rowley  were  publifhed  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  in  1777,  Scott  openly 
pronounced  them  the  forgeries  of  Chatterton,  and  difputed  their  authenticity  in  two  judicious  and 
•well  written  letters  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  July  and  Auguft  1777,  and  produced  the 
firft  arguments  on  that  fide,  except  what  are  contained  in  a  letter  in  the  fame  magazine  for  May 

1777- 

In  1778,  he  undertook,  with  a  friendly  zeal,  the  defence  of  his  friend  Dr.  Beattie,  from  an  anony 
mous  attack  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  January,  for  not  continuing  his  "  Eflay  on  Truth," 
in  a  letter  in  the  fame  Magazine  for  March  following,  to  which  he  figned  his  name;  and  received 
Dt.  Beattie's  acknowledgment  upon  the  occafion. 

The  fame  year,  he  favoured  the  public  with  a  work  of  great  labour  and  utility,  intituled  Digefli  of 
the  General  Higlivay  and  Turnpike  Laws,  ivitli  the  ftbcdute  ifforn:s,  as  dire  fie d  ly  Afl  of  Parliament,  ivitb 
remarks,  Alfa  an  Appendix  on  the  confiruflion  ar.d  p-fjlr-vation  of  Ruads,  8vo.  In  this  compilation, 
all  the  A<9cs  of  Parliament  in  force  are  collected  together,  and  placed  in  one  point  of  view;  and 
their  contents  are  arranged  under  diftinft  heads.  The  Afptndlx  on  the  conftru&ion  and  preferva- 
tion  of  Roads,  is  perhaps  the  only  fcientific  treatife  on  the  frfbjeft.  Nothing  more  diftinguifhes  this- 
work,  than  the  humane  and  benevolent  fpirit  that  breathes  through  all  his  obfervations.  The  firft 
{ketch  of  this  work  appeared  in  1773,  under  the  title  of  A  Digejl  af  tie  High-way  Laws,  8vo. 

The  fame  year  he  publifhed,  without  his  name,  four  Moral  Eclogues,  410;  in  which  he  profeffedto 
have  endeavoured  to  exhibit-a  fpecimen  of  genuine  and  fimple  paftoral.  But  it  was  now  no  time  for 
yalloral  poetry  to  attract  curiofity,  when  probably  (he  merits  of  Theocritus  and  Virgil  infufed  into  an 
Englifh-  Mufe,  could  have  beerr  little  attended  to. 

The  Latin  motto  from  Virgil,  pre£xed  to  thefe  eclogues,  was  given  him  by  Dr.:Beattie  ;  who,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  fpeaks  highly  of  the  eclogue  intituled  Armyn,  which  he  appears  to  have  feen  in 
niunufcript ;  and  he  expreffes  himfelf,  refpcciing  the  variety  of  Scott's  publications,  in  the  following 
manner :  ; 

"  I  am  aftonifhed  at  the  activity  of  your  friend,  and  the  verfatility  of  your  genius.  It  is  truly  amaz 
ing,  that  one  and  the  fume  perfon  fhould,  in  one  and  the  fame  year,  publifh  the  moil  elegant  poems, 
and  A  fi'geft  cftti:  La-ws  relating  to  t'je  Higb-ainft.  Go  on,  Sir,  in  your  laudable  refolution  of  delight* 
ing  and  iuflructing  mankind,  of  patronizing  the  poor.,  and  promoting  the  public  weai." 

He  had  long  deded  to  be  known  to  the  Wartons,  of  whole  critical  and  poetical  abilities  he  was 
a  great  admirer;  and  about  C.hriilmas  1781,  he  was  introduced  lj-  Mr,  il«ole  to  the  two  brothers, 


THE   LIFE   OF   SCOTT.  723 

who  were  highly  pleafed  with  his  unaffected  franknefs  and  amiable  fimplicity.  He  expreffed  the 
warmeft  wiihes  to  cultivate  their  acquaintance,  which  they  were  uo  Icfs  defirous  to  improve ;  hut 
they  parted,  to  meet  no  more ! 

In  the  Spring  1781,  he  publifhed  a  collection  of  his  poems,  which  he  had  long  projected,  under  the 
title  of  The  Poetical  Works  ffjobn  S<:ot:,  Efj.  in  one  volume,  8vo;  which,  befides  what  had  been  for 
merly  printed,  was  L-nrirhed  by  the  addition  of  Amabaaa  Edoguei,  Oriental  Eclogues,  Odes,  Epijlles,  Sun- 
'it's,  and  Miscellaneous  Pieces. 

The  public  gave  a.  very  favourable  reception  to  this  collection,  which  he  had  fparefl  no  pains  to 
render  as  correct  as  poffible  ;  and  the  volume  was  very  elegantly  printed,  and  embelliihed  by  a  va 
riety  of  beautiful  engravings,  particularly  a  Irontifpiece  l>y  liartolozzi,  fiora  a  defign  of  Angelica 
Kauifman ;  and  a  head  of  the  author  by  Hali,  from  a  painting  by  Townfend. 

The  remarks  on  this  article  in  the  "  Critical  Review,"  for  July  1782,  were  introduced  by  fome 
trilling  witticifms,  and  ill-placed  raillery,  highly  reprehenfible  in  a  literary  cenfor,  whofe  duty  it  is 
to  deliver  his  fentiments  with  impartiality.  Speaking  of  the  plates  with  which  the  volume  is  de 
corated,  the  Reviewer  obfervr.s :  "  To  iky  the  truth,  there  is  a  profufion  of  ornament  and  finery 
about  this  book,  not  quire  fnitable  to  the  plainnefs  and  fimplicity  of  the  Barclean  fyftem ;  but  Mr. 
Scott  is  fond  of  the  Mufes,  and  wiihes,  we  fuppofe,  like  Captain  Macheath,  to  fee  his  ladies  well 
drefled." 

Scott,  juftly  offended  at  this  indecent  behaviour,  and  little  accuflomed  to  difguife  his  fentiments, 
v\as  indue  J,  with  iiu-oniiderate  warmth,  to  publifh  A  Letter  to  the  Critical  Rrvicivers,  ^fc.  8vo,  1782. 
in  which  he  <  xjioftulated  with  them  on  their  conduct.  This  letter  produced  a  fecond  article  in  the 
next  Review  ;  and  to  this 'Scott  replied  again,  by  a  letter  inferted  in  one  of  the  newfpapers,  which 
clofed  this  unpleafant  controverfy,  in  which  he  had  engaged,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  his  friend?. 

The  fame  year,  he  addreffed  an  amicable  Letter  to  tie  Editor  vf  ibe  E'unjpian  Magazine,  objecting  to 
the  account  of  his  Poetical  Worts  in  tlieir  September  Magazine,  which  he  thought  degrading,  not 
"  on  account  of  the  manner,  but  the  matter  of  it."  "  The  gentleman,'"  he  fays,  "  who  wrote  the 
article,  has  treated  me  civilly;  his  ftrictures,  therefore,  feem  to  he  the  refult  of  incompetent  judg 
ment  or  fuperficial  examination.  •  To  the  memoirs  you  have  given  of  my  life,  I  have  nothing  to  ob 
ject  ;  the  information  obtained  is  authentic,  and  expreffed  in  a  liberal  and  courteous  manner."  This 
correlpondence  has  efcaped  the  nctice  of  Mr.  Hoole ;  but  it  deferves  attention,  as  it  contains  his  opi 
nion  of  his  own  compofitions,  and  as  it  fcrves  to  authenticate  the  particulars  of  his  life,  recorded  in 
the  "  European  Magazine." 

'  From  the  time  of  his  fecond  marriage, till  his  death,  he  feems  to  have  enjoyed  a  life  of  great  tran- 
quillityi  gratified  with  the  elegant  and  unb'.ameable  pleafures  refulting  from  a  well-cultivated  mind, 
«nd  pofieifed  of  a  v.ife,  whofe  difpofition  enfured  to  him  a  perpetual  fource  of  domeftic  peace.  He 
mentions  her  with  unaffected  tendernefs  in  his  poem  of  Am-wcll ;  and  addreffes  a  copy  of  verfesto  her, 
written  in  the  fame  year,  and  inferted  in  his  Pott'ual  Works,  twelve  years  after  his  marriage. 

He  commenced  a  critic  on  Denham,  Pope,  and  Thomfon,  in  his  correfpondence  with  his  friends, 
Oockfield  and  Turner,  in  1756  and  1761.  He  had  afterwards  minutely  examined  Ibnie  of  the  pro 
ductions  of  Milton,  Dyer,  Collins,  Gray,  and  Goldfmith,  and  had  long  defigned  to  impart  his  ftric- 
tures  to  the  world.  He  canceled  this  work  for  the  prefs,  under  the  title  of  Critical  EJfays  on  feme  of 
lie  Poems  offrveralEiigl'ifi  Poets,  in  1783  ;  but  did  not  live  to  fuperintend  the  publication. 

His  wife  having  lately  laboured  under  a  very  ferious  complaint,  for  which  he  was  anxious  t6  have 
the-beft  advice,  he  accompanied  her  to  London,  Oct.  25.  1783  ;  and  on  the  ill  of  December  follow 
ing,  was  attacked  with-  a  putrid  fever,  the  fymptoms  of  which,  from  the  beginning,  were  judged  to 
be  dangerous.  On  the  I2ih  of  December,  eleven  days  after  he  was  feJzed,  having  retained  his  fenfes 
to  the  laft,  with  his  ur.derflahding  at  all  times  clear  and  unimpaired,  he  died  at  Ins  houfe  in  Rp.tcliffe, 
in  the  54th  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  in  the  Quaker  bury  ing-ground  at  Ratcliffe,  on  the  iSth 
of  the  fame  month,  his  funeral  being  attended  by  a  ielect  number  of  relation's  and  friends. ,  He  left 
behind  him  a  widow  and  daughter,  their  only  child,  about  fix  years  old. 

After  his  death,  his  Critical  EJJay*  being  nearly  ready  for  publication,  it  was  thought  adviihble  to 
prefix  fome  account  of  his  life  to  the  pofthtimous  volun-.e.    Mr.  David  Barclay,  grandfon  of  the  great 
,  applied  to  Dr.  Johofon,  to  v.r.d-,rtsks  the'arrangemenr  of  the  materials  he  would  cnd%vc>';r 

Zzij 


724  THE    LIFE    OF   SCOTT. 

to  furniOi.    To  this  application  Dr.  Johnfon  returned  the  following  ar.fwer,  dated  Afhbourn, 

1 6.  1784. 

"  As  1  have  made  fome  advances  towards  recovery,  and  loved  Scott,  I  am  willing  to  do  juftice 
to  his  memory.  You  will  be  pleafed  to  get  what  account  you  can  of  his  life,  with  dates,  where  they 
can  be  had;  and  when  I  return,  we  will  contrive  how  our  materials  can  be  befl  employed." 

The  death  of  Dr.  Johnfon,  which  happened  Dec.  1 3.  having  fruftrated  the  kind  intentions  of  Mr. 
Barclay,  and  put  an  end  to  his  expectations  of  procuring  to  him  fo  honourable  a  teflimony  to  the  me 
rits  of  his  deceafed  friend,  he  prevailed  upon  Mr.  Hoole  to  become  his  biographer;  who  executed 
the  taflc  in  a  manner  that  reflects  much  credit  on  his  candour,  modefly,  and  judgment. 

A  fecond  edftion  of  hisPoetical  Worh  was  printed  in  8vo,  1786.  They  are  now,  reprinted  from 
the  edition  1786,  with  the  Dtfiription  of  tie  JSollan  Harp,  and  the  Verfts  on  Fear,  reprinted  from  the 
"  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  for  the  firft  time,  received  into  a  colle&ion  of  claffical  Englifh  poetry. 

The  character  of  the  amiable  and  benevolent  "  poet  of  Amwell,"  as  delineatedby  Mr.  Hoole,  wh» 
knew  him  well,  feems  to  be  a  powerful  rival,  in  point  of  philanthropy,  to  that  of  the  worthy  and 
public-fpirited  "  Man  of  Rofs." 

"  In  his  perfon  he  was  tall  and  {lender,  but  his  limbs  were  remarkably  ftrong  and  mufcular ;  he 
tvas  very  active,  and  delighted  much  in  walking;  his  countenance  was  cheerful  and  animated.  The 
active  member  of  fociety,  the  public-fpirited  man,  and  contemplative  ftudent,  were  all  united  in  Scott. 
He  was  not  only  a  lover  and  cultivator  of  polite  literature,  but,  though  not  ufed  to  any  profeffion, 
•was  no  idle  member  of  the  community;  he  bufied  himfelf  in  many  concerns  that  tended  to  the  good, 
of  his  neighbourhood.  He  knew  how  to  blend  the  elegant  with  the  ufeful ;  and  fuch  as  had  little 
predilection  for  the  author  of  the  Elegies,  were  forward  enough  to  give  their  fuffrage  to  thofe  merits 
fhat  promoted  the  good  of  general  life.  As  he  was  well  informed  in  the  laws  of  his  country,  he  was 
ever  difpofcd  to  Hand  forward  in  the  arbitration  of  any  differences  between  his  neighbours  ;  he  fre 
quently  interfered  in  the  lefier  quarrels  and  diflrefles  of  the  poor  inhabitants ;  and,  to  apply  his  own 
«mphatical  words  in  the  Vicar  of  Amwell, 

.  Oft  heard  and  oft  reliev'd 

Their  little  wants;  oft  heard  and  oft  compos'd, 

Sole  arbiter,  their  little  broils — • 

"  He  is  reported  to  have  been  at  one  time  a  fportfman  ;  but  in  confcquence  of  a  humane  and  rational 
epifiion,  that  men  had  no  right  to  deilroy  or  torment  any  of  the  animal  creation  for  mere  diverfion, 
he,  for  many  years  before  his  death,  totally  relinquished  the  diverfions  of  mooting  and  lifhing. 

"  He  certainly  poflefled  a  general  knowledge  in,  and  acquaintance  with  books.  That  he  made  anv 
great  progrefs  in  the  languages,  there  is  little  reaibn  to  fuppofe ;  he,  indeed,  might  attain  fome  know 
ledge  of  the  Latin ;  but  that  knowledge  was  very  Iknder.  From  his  inclination  to  know  fomething 
of  the  excellencies  cf  thofe  poets  who  have  fo  long-  held  their  claim  to  admiration,  he  feems,  by  a  few 
remarks  and  references,  to  have  looked  into  fome  of  the  Auguftan  writers,  particularly  Virgil,  whofe 
fpirit  would  have  been  highly  congenial  to  one  whole  profeffed  aim  was  purity  and  correctness ;  but 
I  think  there  is  little  room  to  believe,  that  thofs  occafional  refearches  were  ever  improved  into  any 
thing  like  the  familiar  perufal  of  a  Latin  cLiffic.  He  had  no  acquaintance  with  the  French  or  Italian. 

"  He  had  a  conftant  defire  to  be  acquainted  with  every  character  oflearning  or  genius.  He  often 
regretted  that  he  had  not  known  the  late  Mr.  Garrick;  of  whom,  though  he  never  went  to  the  the 
atres,  he  had  conceived  a  high  idea ;  and,  indeed,  he  has  frequently  exprefied  to  me  a  ftrong  curiofity 
to  have  feen  him  act. 

"  He  imparted,  without  any  difguife,  his  real  feeling  and  fentiments  on  his  own  works,  or  on  the 
works  of  others.  His  manner  of  reading  verfe  was  very  peculiar,  yet  fuch  as  feemed  to-  give  him  a 
ftrong  perception  of  harmony ;  at  the  fame  time  he  frequently  confcfled  to  me,  that  he  read  ill,  and 
was  well  pleafed  to  have  his  lines  repeated  by  another.  This  is  a  defect  very  common  in  authors; 
Goldfmith,  e>0e  of  the  moft  harmonious  and  eafy  poets,  was  a  very  imfkilful  reader. 

"  He  was  a  great  lover  of  muik,  but  hail  no  practical  knowledge  of  it.  He  preferred  the  time 
for  poetical  compofition,  when  the  reft  of  the  family  were  in  bed ;  and  it  was  frequently  his  cuftom  to 
fit  in  a  dark  room,  and  when  he  had  compofed  a  number  of  lines,  he  would  go  into  another  room, 
•tvkere  a  candle  was  burning,  in  order  to  commit  them  to  paper.  Though  in  general  very  regular  i» 


THE   LIFE   OF   SCOTT.  ?* 

his  hour  of  retiring  to  reft,  he  would  fometimes  be  up  great  part  of  the  night,  when  he  was  engaged 
ill  any  literary  work." 

On  the  poetical  character  of  Scott,  it  is  unneceSSary  to  enlarge,  as  it  has  been  illuflrated  by  Mr. 
Hook,  with  a  miiiutcnefs  of  examination,  and  a  juihiei's  of  difcrimination,  that  leaves  little  to  be  fup- 
plied. 

"  The  greater  part  of  Mr.  Scott's  poems,  are  turned  on  rural  imagery;  in  which  it  will  be  found, 
that  his  principal  merit  is  novelty  in  description,  and  a  laudable  endeavour  to  introduce  an  occaConal 
Simplicity  of  ftyle,  perhaps  too  much  rejected  by  the  prefent  Saftidious  readers  of  poetry.  He  was 
certainly  no  fervile  copyift  of  the  thoughts  of  others ;  for,  living  in  the  country,  and  being  a  clofe  and 
accurate  obferver,  he  painted  what  he  Saw,  though  he  muft,  unavoidably,  Sometimes  fall  on  ideas  and 
expreffions  common  to  all  pafloral  writers. 

"  He  cultivated  the  knowledge  of  natural  hiftory  and  botany,  which  enabled  him  to  prcfcrve  the 
truth  of  nature  with  many  discriminating  touches,  perhaps  not  excelled  by  any  dcfcriptive  poet  fincc 
the  days  of  ThomSon. 

"  Perhaps  it  mufl  be  granted,  that  his  firft  avowed  poetical  production,  intituled  Elegies,  Moral  and 
Defcriptive,  has  not  been  excelled  by  any  of  his  Subsequent  woiks,  whether  we  conSider  the  livelineSs 
of  the  painting,  the  harmony  of  the  verSe,  or  the  amiable  Jtrain  of  benevolence  and  piety  that  runs 
through  the  whole. 

"  His  Amii-ell,  a  defcriptive  poem,  is  written  in  blank  verfe,  the  genius  cf  which  he  profeficd  to  have 
particularly  ftudied  ;  and  I  think  he  exhibits  a  Specimen  of  great  Strength  and  harmony  in  that  metre. 
The  face  of  the  country  here  is  very  picturefque  ;  but  perhaps  it  will  i>e  found,  that  local  defcription 
is  far  more  adapted  to  the  powers  of  the  pencil  than  the  pen.  Thofe  marking  and  peculiar  features 
which  the  painter  gives,  with  a  few  Strokes,  to  the  eye,  will  lofe  almoft  all  their  difcrimination  in  the 
words  of  the  poet ;  a  hill,  a  vale,  a  forcfl,  a  rivulet,  and  a  cataract,  can  be  deScribed  only  by  general 
terms ;  the  hill  muft  Swell,  the  vale  Sink,  the  rivulet  murmur,  and  the  cataract  foam.  On  the  great 
defeat  of  words  to  discriminate  material  objects,  Dr.  JohnSon  once  obServed  to  me,  that  no  deScrip- 
tion,  however  accurately  given,  could  impreSs  any  determinate  idea  of  the  different  Shapes  of  ani- 
'mals  on  the  mind  of  one  who  had  never  Seen  thoSe  animals.  Hence,  it  muft  be  concluded,  that  the 
appearance  of  nature  at  large  may  be  the  province  of  poetry,  but  that  the  form  of  particular  objects 
muft  belong  to  the  painter.  Scott  has  availed  himfelf  of  every  circumftance  that  could  with  pro 
priety  be  introduced  to  decorate  his  poem  ;  but  nothing  fhows  his  tafte  and  judgment  more  than 
the  tribute  paid  by  him  to  the  memory  of  Thomas' HafiaL,  the  venerable  minifter  of  Amwell,  which 
furnilhes  a  paffage  at  once  So  pathetic  and  poetical.  Though  Scott's  poem  will  not  raiSe  in  the  mind 
»f  a  ftranger  any  Strong  idea  oS  the  place  meant  to  be  deScribed,  yet  it  will  always  be  peruSed  with 
delight  by  poetical  lovers  of  rural  imagery. 

"  His  Moral  Eclogues  undoubtedly  dcferve  praiSe,  Sor  cafy  verSification  and  good  painting,  and  for 
fcveral  natural  observations  of  the  poet.  Seveial  new  images  may  be  collected  from  thefe  poems. 
In  Some  places,  the  poet  has  not  unfkilSulIy  introduced  the  names  of  wild  plants  and  flowers,  which, 
when  they  are  marked  with  picturcSque  epithets,  have  a  good  effect.  I  am  SenSible  that  Some  per- 
Sona  have  affected  to  hold  mere  deScriptivc  poetry  in  little  estimation,  but,  Surely,  not  to  mention 
that  description,  muft  neceSSarily  make  great  part  of  every  narrative  poem,  and  has  ever  been  confi- 
dercd  as  a  material  talent  in  the  poet;  a  poem  conSuling  of  rural  painting,  may,  at  leaft  to  the  ear, 
have  the  Same  merit  that  landfcape-paiiiting  has  to  the  eye.  But  Sew  poems  of  this  kind  were  ever 
known  to  come  Srom  the  pen  of  a  good  writer,  without  a  mixture  of  moral  reflections;  and  in  this, 
the  poetry  of  Scott,  is  entitled  to  no  little  approbation.  But  whatever  praiSe  is  due  to  the  harmony 
ef  his  numbers,  I  cannot  pafs  over  a  peculiarity  in  his  predilection  for  fometimes  laying  an  uncom-^ 
mon  accent  on  words  or  Syllables,  which  he  thought  gave  Strength  to  the  line.  This  liberty  Should, 
in  my  opinion,  be  very  Sparingly  uSed.  RouglmeSs  of  verSe  may  indeed  be  emphatical  where  the 
image  requires  it,  of  which  a  forcible  example  is  given  in  the  following  line : 

The  flow  wain  grating  bore  its  cumbrous  load. 

«'  The  Amalaan  Eclogues  Seems  to  me  the  leaft  happy  of  Mr.  Scott's  productions;  for  in  his  attempt 
at  novelty,  he  has  admitted  Such  names  and  circurwltar.ces,  as,  in  my  opinion,  no  verSification,  how 
ever  harmonious,  con  make  poetical ;  theSe  lines  may,  in  Some  meaSure,  {how  the  force  of  my  objec 
tions,  Z  z  "j 


7*6  THE   LIFE   OF   SCOTT. 

Old  oaken  ftubs,  tough  failings  there  adorn, 
There  hedge-row  plafhes  yield  the  knotty  thorn, 
The  (wain  for  different  ufes  thefe  avail. 
And  form  the  traveller's  naff,  the  threfher's  flail. 

"  In  his  Oriental  Eclogues,  he  has,  with  judgment,  made  ufe  of  fuch  cireumftance*  as  might  give 
them  an  air  of  local  truth.  The  Eclogue  of  Serim,  or  the  Artificial  Famine,  has  much  poetical  merit. 
The  Chinefe  Eclogue,  called  Li-fo,  or  the  Good  Governor,  has  picturefque  touches  of  the  country, 
and  contains  many  amiable  reflections,  political  and  moral.  The  vifion  of  Confucius  is  very  poetical. 

"  The  Odts,  as  he  informs  us,  were  written  at  very  different  periocjs,  and  fome  appear  to 
be  bis  earlieft  effufions  in  poetry.  The  flyle  of  thefc  odes  is  various,  gay  and  familiar,  pathetic  and 
fublime.  In  the  odes  on  Recruiting  and  Privateering,  the  thoughts  are  new,  and  fingularly  character- 
iflic  of  Mr.  Scott's  religious  tenets,  and  which  ought  to  reflect  no  fmall  honour. on  thefe  tenets, 
ftrictly  conformable  to  the  dictates  of  every  feeling  mind,  uncorrupted  with  the  maxims  of  human 
policy.  The  Mexican  Ode  may  admit  of  much  praife.  It  opens  with  a  fpirited  abruptnefs;  it  ends 
with  equal  dignity,  after  the  prophecy  of  the  Mexican  idol.  The  vanifhing  of  the  demon  is  attend 
ed  with  circumftances  not  very  diffimilar  from  the  difappearance  of  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Cape,"  in 
Camoens. 

"  The  two  EpiJIles  that  follow  the  odes,  are  written  in  a  very  familiar  and  eafy  ftrain  of  verfifi- 
cation.  The  fecond  Ej>tflle  defcribes  the  occupations  and  amnfements  of  a  contemplative  mind  in 
the  country,  and  may  be  ccnfidered  as  a  picture  of  the  author's  own  manner  of  livipg. 

"  The  EJfey  on  Painting  is  an  elegant  piece  of  verification,  and  fhows,  in  the  fulleft  light,  Mr. 
Scott's  turn  for  the  polite  arts.  He  was  always  a  great  admirer  of  painting,  and  for  many  years 
never  miffed  an  annual  exhibition.  The  poem  isfaid  to  be  addreffed  to  a  young  painter,  but  has  no 
reference  to  any  particular  perfon.  It  will  perhaps  be  found,  that  not  any  very  new  remarks  are 
introduced  on  a  fubject  relative  to  which  fo  much  has  been  written  ;  but  the  rules  and  obfervations 
are  at  leaft  delivered  with  taile  and  propriety." 

Of  his  fuccefs  as  a  critic,  in  his  pofthumous  volume,  Mr.  Hoole  thinks  no  lefs  favourably  than  of 
his  poetical  pretenfions. 

"  This  volume  difplays  an  open,  manly  fpirit  of  criticifm,  and  may  be  perufcd  by  all  lovers 
of  poetry  with  advantage.  He  feems,  with  reafon,  to  have  difputed  the  claim  of  Dcnham  to  the 
reputation  which  he  has  fo  long  enjoyed,  and  feveral  of  the  paffages  adduced  by  hinvfrom  Cooper's 
Jfill,  very  well  fupport  his  affertions.  He  has  fkilfully  defended  Milton's  Lviidas  sgainft  fome  of 
Dr.  Johnfon's  objections,  and  has  well  apologifed  for  the  profujion  of  imagery  admitted  into  a 
poem  expreffive  of  grief.  He  has  judicioufly  pointed  out  feveral  inaccuracies  in  the  W'wUfor  Forejl 
of  Pops,  one  of  the  correcteft  of  our  poets.  His  remarks  on  Granger  Hi'!,  and  the  Ruins  cf  Rome  of 
Dyer,  and  the  Oriental  Eclogues  of  Collins,  are  replete  with  tafte,  the  defects  and  beauties  of  each 
poem  being  fingled  out  with  great  difcerr.ment.  The  Elegy  of  Gray  feems  to  have  given  him  lit 
tle  room  for  objection,  but  I  think  that  he  has  indulged  himfelf  too  much  in  his  propofed  tranfpofi- 
tion  of  feveral  paffages  in  that  poem.  Amidfl  all  the  beauties  of  Goldfmith's  Deferted  V'&age,  he 
has  very  clearly  difcovered  redundancy  and  incorrectnefs.  His  ftri&ures  on  Thomfon  are  generally 
juft,  and  feveral  examples  are  given  of  falfe  figures,  and  confufed  metaphors,  wherein  the  poet's 
fancy  has  carried  away  his  judgment." 

Such  are  the  criticifms  of  Mr.  Hoolc,  which,  with  a  few  exceptions,  will  be  generally  allowed  to 
£e  the  refult  of  a  competent  judgment,  a  candid  difpofition,  and  an  elegant  tafte.  He  has  eftirrmted 
the  moral  and  intellectual  character  of  Scott  with  impartiality,  and  difcriminated  the  beauties  and 
defects  of  his  competitions  with  accuracy. 

In  fuch  an  age  as  this,  "  when  diffipation  reigns,  and  prudence  fleeps,"  too  much  cannot  be  faid  in 
favour  of  a  nun  who  was  not  lefs  diflinguifhed  by  the  blamelefs  fimplicity  of  his  manners,  than  the 
warmth  of  his  frlendfhip,  and  the  activity  of  his  benevolence.  But  his  amiable  worth  and  poetical 
genius,  may  be  better  known  from  his  works,  that  truly  reflect  their  author's  mind,  than  any  formal 
comments.  Though  a  difciple  of  Barclay,  he  is  alfo  a  legitimate  fon  of  Apollo.  The  prefent  writer  is 
I:appy  to  agree  with  Mr.  Hoole,  in  affigning  him  a  refpectable  rank  among  the  poets  of  our  nation. 
His  compofitions  are  characterized  by  elegance,  fimplicity,  and  harmony,  more  than  invention  or  fub- 
Iknity ;  neither  of  wkich  are  wanting.  They  breathe  a  fpirit  of  tendernefs  and  philanthropy,  ar.d 


THE   LIFE  OF  SCOTT.  7»T 

.difplay  an  amiable  and  virtuous-mind.  In  natural  enthuiiafm  and  fire,  they  are  by  no  means  defi 
cient.  The  lubjects  on  which  choice  or  accident  has  induced  him  to  write,  afford  no  great  room  for 
invention  to  be  exefcifed.  His  tbirJ  nnd  fourth  eclajrt/rs,  and  thcfa-onJ  and  tbirJ  Oriental  cues,  and  fome 
other  poems,  have,  however,  a  difpofition  of  conduct  not  very  frequently  met  with.  All  his  pieces 
fhow  a  propriety  of  plan,  and  regularity  of  connection;  their  component  parts  are  homogenous  and 
concordant,  and  clofe  in  an  eafy  and  agreeable  manner.  They  are  diftinguilhed  by  correctnefs  and 
neatnefs  of  exprefiioa ;  a  ftyle  free  from  eliptical  abruptnefs,  violent  tranfpofitions,  or  a  flovenly  re 
currence  of  the  fame  words  in  one  fentenqe.  His  lines  are  feldom  cold  or  profaic,  though  fometimes 
a  verfe  may  be  found  purpofely  varied  from  the  common  ftructare  by  trochaic  accents,  or  otherwife. 
In  fome  inltances  the  lima  labor  et  mora  are  too  vifible,  and  feem  to  have  deftroycd  the  charadteril- 
tic  relief,  the  glowing  thought,  and  the  ardent  language.  But  his  poems  have  a  merit  of  no  common 
kind;  they  have  no  poetical  common-places ;  the  fentiments  and  diction  ate  unberrowed;  and  his 
ftyle  of  compofition,  as  well  as  his  modes  of  thinking,  are  entirely  his  own. 

His  Elegies,  Defei -iptivc  and  Moral,  are  characterized  by  a  natural  enthufiafm,  harmony,  and  firnpli- 
ty.  The  defcriptions  are  truly  poetical,  and  the  morality  fo  happily  interwoven  with  them,  as  to 
feem  almoft  neceffarily  connected  with  the  fubject ;  while  the  melodious  gravity  of  the  vcrfe,  and  the 
agreeable  melancholy  fpirit  of  the  fentiments  and  expreflion,  compofe  a  very  decent  and  fuitable  gsr!> 
for  the  elegiac  Mufe. 

His  Elegy  11-rltti.n  at  Amivell,  1768,  at  a  time  when  he  was  fuffering  the  greatcft  of  human  calami 
ties,  the  death  of  the  object  whom  he  mourns,  is  fraught  with  fine  poetical  i'celing,  that  entitles  it  to 
rank  with  the  "  Monodies"  of  Shaw  and  Lyttleton,  and  the  "  Verfes,"  &c.  of  Langhorne  ;  the  moft 
pathetic  funeral  elegies  in  the  English  language. 

His  Amiudl  is  an  eafy  and  melodious  defcriptive  poem;  the  objects  of  which  are  thofe  rural  fcenes 
and  images  that  ftrike  upon  a  young  mind  impregnated  with  the  feeds  of  poetry,  of  courfe,  with  an 
ardent  love  of  nature— that  ftrike  with  a  degree  of  enthufiafm,  which  fetms,  like  other  generous  paf* 
fions,  to  hf.ve  its  empire  in  youth,  but  can  never  be  divided  from  memory.  He  begins  with  invok 
ing  the  dtfcriptive  Mufe,  who  infpired  Thomibn,  Dyer,  and  Shenftone  ;  invites  his  Maria,  the  fecond 
fair  partner  ef  bis  joys,  to  accompany  him  in  his  walk  ;  directs  our  eye  to  Hertford's  gr^y  towe,  t — which 
introduces  a  fhort  epifode  of  the  defeat  of  the  Danes  by  Alfred,  iu  879;  to  Ecrleo  and  Ware-Park, 
once  the  refidence  of  Sir  Richard  Fanfhaw,  the  tranflator  of  the  "  Lufiad"  of  Camoens,  who  is  elegantly 
commemorated  ;  to  the  New  River,  brought  to  London  by  Sir  Hugh  Middleton ;  to  Ware,  once  fa 
mous  for  its  tournaments,  in  one  of  which  an  Earl  of  Pembroke  was  ilain,  2jth  Hen.  III. ;  to  Langlcy- 
bottom,  an  Elyfian  fcene,  on  which  he  ferioufly  moralizes.  After  lamenting,  in  the  clofe  of  thefe 
melancholy  ideas,  the  death  of  his  friends  Turner  and  De  Home,  he  proceeds  in  his  paftoral  land- 
fcape,  near  and  remote,  till  he  refts  at  laft  on  slmwdl,  his  favourite  fccne;  of  which  he  gives  a  more 
particular  and  more  graphical  view.  Scarcely  any  thing  of  the  defcriptive  kind  can  be  more  poetical 
than  the  farewell  addrefs  to  the  i'ccne  and  lubjtct  of  this  elegant  poem.  It  is  rendered  interefting  by 
the  introduction  of  hiftorical  incidents,  apt  allufions,  and  moral  reflexions.  Introduced  are  Ifaac  Wal- 
to,.the  fccne  of  whofe  "Angler's  Dialogues"  is  the  Vale  of  Lee;  William  Warner,  the  author  of 
"  Albion's  England,"  who  refided  here  ;  Thomas  Haflal,  vicar  of  Arr.-wdl,  who,  like  the  good  Bifhop 
of  Marfeilles,  performed  his  parochial  duty  during  the  plague  in  1603  and  1625  ;  and  Mr.  Hoole,  the 
Br'mjb  Taffo,  his  future  biographer,  who  thither 

•  Oft  from  bufy  fcenes, 

To  rural  calm  and  letter'd  cafe  retires. 

In  his  Amttbaan  Eclogues,  the  rural  imagery  that  is  introduced  and  jlluftrated  by  notes,  is  new  and 
Linnaau ;  though  fome  of  his  plants  and  fnrubs,  like  the  barbarous  town  in  Horace,  no  verification 
can  make  poetical — verfu  dicere  r.on  tjl.  They  evince,  however,  flrong  powers  of  appropriate  and  dif» 
criminating  defcription,  natural  and  pathetic  fentiment,  and  correct  and  fpirited  verification. 

His  Oriental  Eclogues  have  little  to  fear  from  a  comparison  with  any  of  their  predeceflbrs.  Like 
thofe  of  Collins,  they  have  defcription,  incident,  fentiment,  and  moral;  they  have  fimplicity  of 
thought,  and  melody  of  language.  To  defcribe  the  manners  and  habits  of  life  of  a  people,  and  the 
fcenery  of  a  country  that  is  known,  and  known  too  but  imperfectly,  by  the  defcription  of  others,  is  a. 
tajk  of  confidcrable  difficulty.  Of  the  numerous  attempts  of  this  kind,  whether  in  profe  or  verfe, 
there  ?,rc  few,  perhaps,  wl!!  i::,n .'  the  t?fl  of  examination.  PKould  it  pofiibty  be  objected  to  Scott, 

%  z  iiij 


;»8  THE  LIFE   OF  S6OTT. 

that  he  has  not  wholly  tKapeJ  the  impropriety  of  ibmetimes  blending  Eurapean  with  Afiatic  ideaj, 
he  has,  however,  other  beauties,  that  will  more  than  atone  for  what,  perhaps,  in  an  Engliihman  migbc 
be  unavoidable.  They  breathe  a  fpirit  of  humanity  and  poetry,  that  does  equal  honour  to  his  heart 
and  his  understanding.  In  the  Eaft  Indian  eclogue,  intituled  Scrim,  or  the  Artificial  famine,  the  mi- 
fery  and  deftruclion  accumulated,  fome  years  ago,  en  the  Gentoo  natives  of  Bengal,  &c.  by  the  monq- 
poly  of  rice,  arc  painted  in  flrong  colours,  and  exhibit  a  picture  of  our  unfeeling  countrymen,  froiji 
which  we  turn  with  horror,  to  fcenes  not  Icfs  horrid,  though  long  paft  i»  the  Weft. 

The  Msxi.-an  Prophecy  is  a  fpirited  production.  On  the  approach  ofCortez  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Mex 
ico,  the  Emperor  Montezuma  fent  a  number  of  magicians  to  attempt  the  deftruction  of  the  Spaniili 
army.  As  the  forcerers  were  practifing  their  incantations,  a  demon  appeared  to  them  in  the  form  of  their 
idol  Tlcatlepuca,  and  forbid  the  fall  of  the  Mexican  empire.  On  this  legend  is  fpunded  the  ode,  of  which 
the  conclufion  approaches  to  fublimity.  Rcfpe&ing  the  general  poetical  merit  of  his  Ejfay  on  Painfvig, 
Epijlles,  and  Odes,  the  prefent  writer  is  happy  to  coincide  in  judgment  with  Mr.  Hoole.  His  Sonnett 
are  correct  and  elegant,  and  will  be  read  with  pleafure ;  though  they  do  not  poffels  all  the  appropri 
ate  excellencies  of  this  fpecies  of  verfe.  His  verfes  on  the  JEolian  Harp,  and  on  Fear,  are  fpirited  and 
poetical.  But  there  is  not,  perhaps,  in  the  whole  compafs  of  Jiis  poetry,  any  thing  more  expreffi  ve  of 
his  philanthropical  affections' and  comprthenfive  benevolence,  than  the  following  little  Ode,  It  is  tru 
ly  Britiib,  and  truly  humane. 

I  hate  that  drum's  difcordant  found, 
Parading  round,  and  round,  and  round  j 
To  thoughtlefs  youth  it  pleafure  yields, 
And  hires  from  cities  and  from  fields, 
To  fell  their  liberty  for  charms 
Of  tawdry  lace,  and  glittering  arms  ; 
And  when  Arnbition's  voice  comjnand?, 
To  march,  and  fight,  and  fall,  in  fortign  lands. 

I  hate  that  drum's  difcordant  found, 
Parading  round,  and  round,  and  round : 
To  me  it  talks  of  ravag'd  plains, 
And  burning  towns,  and  ruin'd  fwains, 
And  mangled  limbs,  and  dying  groans, 
And  widows  tears,  and  orphans  moans ; 
And  all  that  Mifery's  hand  bellows, 
To  fill  the  catalogue  of  human  woes. 

His  Critical  EJfnys  are  no  inconfiderable  addition  to  his  fame.  They  have  much  merit,  in  ths 
mode  of  criticifm  which  he  has  purfued.  In  the  minutenefs  and  rigour  of  his  examination,  he  ap 
proaches  to  the  inquifitorial  ftrictnefs  of  Dr.  Johnfon.  This  exactnef:,,  however,  isfometimes  mifap- 
plied,  and  fometimcs  leads  him  into  error.  Juft  obfervations  are  fometimcs  mixed  with  faults.  Some 
peculiar  words  and  phrafes  do  not  produce  a  pleafiing  effect ;  but,  on  the  whole,  they  may  be  read  by 
an  ardent  young  poet  with  advantage.  ' 


THE  WORKS  OF  SCOTT. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


SUCH  of  the  following  pieces  as  were  formerly 
piiblhliecl  having  been  honoured  with  general  ap 
probation,  any  apology  for  reprinting  them  muft 
oe  unneceffary.  The  others,  which  conftitute  the 
Amivell,  1782. 


principal  part  of  this  volume,  it  is  apprehended, 
are  not  of  inferior  merit ;  and  the  whole  may, 
perhaps,  afford  an  innocent  and  agreeable  aniufe- 
ment  to  the  lovers  of  nature  and  poetry. 


MORAL   ECLOGUES. 

At  fecura  quies,  et  nefcia  fallere  vita. 
Dives  opum  variarum  ;  at  latis  otia  funclis, 
Speluncse,  vivique  lacus  ;  at  frigida  Tempe, 
Mugitufque  bourn,  mollefque  fub  arbore  fomni 
Non  abfunt.    Illic  faltus,  ac  luftra  ferarum, 
Et  patiens  operum  parvoque  affueta  juventus, 
Sacra  deum,  fanctique  patres  :  extrema  per  illos 
Juftitia  excedens  tertis  veftigia  fecit. 

VIRG.  Georg  .II.  1.  467. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

THE  moft  rational  definition  of  paftoral  poetry  feems  to  be  that  of  the  learned  and  ingenious  Dr. 
Johnlbn,  in  the  37th  number  of  his  Rambler.  '  Paftoral,'  fays  he,  '  being  the  reprefentation  of  a* 
'  action  or  paffion,  by  its  effects  on  a  country  life,  has  nothing  peculiar,  but  its  confinement  to  ru- 
*  ral  imagery,  without  which  it  ceafcs  to  be  paftoral.'  This  theory  the  author  of  the  following  ec 
logues  has  endeavoured  to  exemplify. 

The  gentle  fwain  the  cheerful  fcene  admir'd^ 

The  cheerful  fcene  the  long  of  joy  infpir'd. 

4  Chant  on/  he  cry'd, '  ye  warblers  on  tke  fpray! 

'  Bleat  on,  ye  flocks,  that  in  the  paftures  play  ! 

'  Low  on,  ye  herds,  that  range  the  dewy  vales! 

4  Murmur,  ye  rills !  and  whifper  foft,  ye  gales! 

4  How  blelt  my  lot,  in  thefe  i'weet  fields  aflign'd, 

4  Where  peace  and  leilure  (both  the  tuneful  mind  - 

4  Where  yet  fome  pleafing  veftiges  remain 

4  Of  unnerverteci  nature's  golden  reign, 

'  When  love  and  virtue  rang'd  Arcadian  fhade*, 

'  With  undefigning  youths  and  artlefs  maids! 

'  For  us  though  dertm'd  to  a  later  time, 

4  A  leis  luxuriant  foil,  Ids  genial  clime, 

'  For  us  the  countrj  boaft>>  enough  to  charm, 

4  In  the  wild  woodland  or  the  cuiturM  farm 

'  Come,    Cynthio,    come  !    in    town   no    longer 

Itay  . 

4  From  crowds,  and  noife,  and  folly,  hafte  away '. 
4  The  fields,  tho  meads,  the  trees,  are  all  in  bloom, 
'  The  vernal  fliowers  aw  ake  a  rich  penume, 


ECLOGUE  I. 

THERON;  OR,  THE  PRAISE  OP  RURAL  LIFE. 
Scene,  a  Heath: — Sea/on,  Spring;  Time,  Morning. 

FAIR  Spring  o'er  nature  held  her  gentleft  fvvay, 
Fair  morn  diffus'd  around  her  brighteft  ray  ; 
Thin  mills  hung  hovering  on  the  diftant  trees, 
Or  roll'd  from  off  the  fields  before  the  breeze. 
The  Ihepherd  Theron  watch'd  his  fleecy  train, 
Beneath  a  broad  oak,  on  the  grafly  plain. 
A  heath's  green  wild  lay  pieafant  to  his  view. 
With  ihrubs  and  field-flowers  deck'd  of  varied  hue : 
There  hawthorns  tall  their  filver  bloom  difclos'd, 
Here  flexile  broom's  bright  yellow  interpos'd; 
There  purple  orchis,  here  pale  dailies  fpread, 
And  fweet  May  lilies  richeft  odours  fhed. 
From  many  a  copfe  and  bloflbm'd  orchard  near, 
The  voice  of  birds  melodious  charm'd  the  ear  ; 
There  fhrill  the  lark,  and  foft  the  linnet  lung, 
Aod  loud  th/ough  air  the  throftle's  niufic  rung, 


75° 


THE   WORKS    OF   SCOTT. 


'  Where  Damon's  manfion,  by  the  glaffy  ftream, 
c  Rears  its  white  walls  that  through  green  wil- 

4  lows  gleam, 

'  Annual  the  neighbours  hold  their  {hearing-day ; 
4  Anciblitheyouthscome,  and  nymphsin  neat  array: 
'  Thole  fiiear  their  Iheep,  upon  the  fmooth  turf 

'  laid, 

•  In  the  broad  plane's  or  trembling  poplar's  fhade; 

•  Thefe  for  their  friends  th'  expected  feaft  pro- 

4  vide, 

'  Beneath  cool  bowers  along  th1  enclofure's  fide. 
4  To  view  the  toil,  the  glad  repaft  to  fhare, 

*  Thy  Delia,  my  Melania,  fhall  be  there  ; 

4  Each,  kind  and  faithful  to  her  faithful  fwain, 

•  Loves  the  calm  pleafures  of  the  paftoral  plain. 

*  Come,  Cynthio,  come  1    If  towns  and  crowds  in- 

'  vite, 
4  And  noife  and  folly  promife  high  delight ; 

*  Soon  the  tir'd  foul  difgufted  turns  from  thefe-— 
4  The  rural  profpedl,  only,  long  can  pleafe  !' 

ECLOGUE  II. 
PALEMON;  OR,  BENEVOLENCE. 

Scene,  a  Wood-Jide  on  the  Broiv  of  a  Hill-.—Sea- 
fon,  Summer  ;  "Time,  Forenoon. 

BRIGHT  fleecy  clouds  flew  fcattering  o'er  the  fkyi 
And  fhorten'd  (hadows  fhow'd  that  noon  was 

nigh; 

When  tw<»  young  fhepherds,  in  the  upland  fhade, 
Their  liftlefs  limbs  upon  the  greenfward  laid. 
Surrounding  groves  the  wandering  .fight  confin'd— 
All,  fave  where,  weftward,  one  wide  landfcape 

fliin'd, 

Down  in  the  dale  were  neat  enclofures  feen, 
The  winding  hedge-row  and  the  thicket  green  ; 
Rich  marfh  land  next  a  gloffy  level  fliow'd, 
And  through  gray  willows  filver  rivers  flow'd  : 
Beyond,  high  hills  with  towers  and  villas  crown'd, 
And  waving  forefts,  form'd  the  profpecVs  bound. 
Sweet  was  the  covert  where  the  fwains  reclm'd  ! 
There  fpread  the  wild  rofe,  there  the  woodbine 

twin'd ;  [ground, 

There  flood  the  green  fern  ;  there,  o'er  the  grafl'y 
Sweet  camomile  and  alehoof  crept  around; 
And  centaury  red  and  yellow  cinquefoil  grew, 
And  fcarlet  campion,  and  cyanus  blue ; 
And  tufted  thyme,  and  marjoram's  purple  bloom, 
And  ruddy  ftrawberries  yielding  rich  perfume. 
Gay  flies  their  wings  on  each  fair  flower  difplay'd, 
And  labouring  bees  a  lulling  murmur  made. 
Along  the  brow  a  path  delightful  lay  ; 
Slow  by  the  youths  Palemon  chanc'd  to  ftray, 
A  bard,  who  often  to  the  rural  throng, 
At  vacant  hours  rehears'd  the  moral  fong  '. 
The  fong  the  fliepherds  crav'd ;  the  fage  reply 'd : 
4  As  late  my  fteps  forfook  the  fountain  fide, 
4  Adown  the  green  lane  by  the  beechen  grove, 
4  Their  flocks  young  Pironel  and  Larvon  drove  ; 
«  With  us  perchance  they'll  reft  a  while' — The 
fwains  [plains : 

Approach'd  the  made  ;  their  fheep  fpread  o'er  the 
Silent  they  view'd  the  venerable  man, 
Whofe  voice  melodious  thus  the  lay  began  : 
What  Alcon  fung  where  Evefham's  vales  extend, 
I  fing  ;  ye  fvyains,  your  pie  as' d  attention  lend  1 


'  There  long  with  him  the  rural  life  I  let!, 

4  His  fields  I  cultur'd,  and  his  flocks  I  fed. 

4   Where,  by  the  hamlet  road  upon  the  green,* 

'  Stood  pleafant  cots  with  trees  dilpers'd  between, 

'  Betide  his  door,  as  waving  o'er  his  head 

4  A  lofty  elm  its  ruftling  foliage  fpread, 

'  Frequent  he  fat ;  while  all  the  village  train 

'  Prels'd  round  his  feat,  and  liften'd  to  his  llrain. 

;  And  once  of  fair  Benevolence  he  fung, 

'  And  thus  the  tuneful  numbers  left  hir  tongue  : 

"  Ye  youth  of  Avon's  banks,  of  Bredon's  groves, 

14  Sweet  fcenes,  where  plenty  reigns,  and  plea- 

"  lure  roves ! 

44  Woo  to  your  bowers  benevolence  the  fair, 
44  Kind  as  your  foil,  and  gentle  as  your  air. 
44  She  comes !  her  tranquil  ftep,  and  placid  eye, 
"  Fierce  rage,  fell  hate,  and  ruthlels  avarice  fly. 
"  She  comes  !  her  heav'nly  fmiles,  with  power- 

44  ful  charm,  [arm. 

"  Smooth  care's  rough  brow,  and  reft  toil's  weary 
44  She  comes  !  ye  fhepherds,  importune  her  ftay  ! 
44  While  your  fair  farms  exuberant  wealth  difplay, 
44  While  herds  and  flocks  their  annual  increafe 

14  yield, 

41  And  yellow  harvefts  load  the  fruitful  field  ; 
14  Beneath  grim  want's  inexorable  reign, 
41  Pale  ficknel's,  ol't,  and  feeble  age  complain  ! 
44  Why  this  unlike  allotment,  fave  to  (how, 
14  That  who  poflefs,  poflefs  but  to  beflow  ?" 

Palemon  ceas'd. — '  Sweet  is  the  found  of  gales 
4  Amid  green  ofiers  in  the  winding  vales  ; 
4  Sweet  is  the  lark's  loud  note  on  funny  hills, 
4  What  time  fair  morn  the  Iky  with  fragrance  fills; 
4  Sweet  is  the  nightingale's  love-foothing  ftrain, 
'  Heard  by  ftill  waters  on  the  moonlight  plain  ? 
4  But  not  the  gales  that  through  green  ofiers  play, 
4  Nor  lark's  nor  nightingale's  melodious  lay, 
'  Pleafe  like  fmooth  -numbers   by  the  mufe  in- 

4  fpir'd  !'— 
Larvon  reply'd,  and  homeward  all  retir'd. 

ECLOGUE  III. 

ARMYN  ;    OR,    THE  DISCONTENTED. 

Scent,  a  Galley  .-—Seafon,  Summer  j   Time ,  After 
noon. 

SUMMER  o'er  heav'n  diffus'd  fereneft  blue, 
And  painted  earth  with  many  a  pleafing  hue  ; 
When  Armyn  mus'd  the  vacant  hour  away, 
Where    willows  o'er   him   wav'd  their  pendant 

fpray. 

Cool  was  the  (hade,  and  cool  the  patting  gale, 
And  fweet  the  profpedl  of  the  adjacent  vale: 
The  fertile  foil,  profufe  of  plants,  bellow'd 
The  crowfoot's  gold,  the  trefoil's  purple  fliow'd. 
The  fpiky  mint  rich  fragrance  breathing  round, 
And  meadfweet  tali  with  tufts  of  fiowretscrown'd, 
And  comfry  white,  and  hoary  filver  weed, 
The  bending  ofier,  and  the  ruftling  reed. 
There,  where  clear  ftreams  about  green  iflands 

fpread, 

Fair  flocks  and  herds,  the  wealth  of  Armyn  fed  ; 
There,  on  the  hill's  foft  dope,  delightful  view  '. 
Fair  fields  of  corn,  the  wealth  of  Armyn  grew; 
His  fturdy  hinds,  a  flow  laborious  band, 
Swept  their  bright  fcythes  along  the  level  land  : 
4 


MORAL   ECLOGUES- 


B'ithe  youths  and  maidens  nimbly  near  them  paft, 
And  the  thick  fwarth  in  carelefs  wind-rows  caft. 
Full  on  the  landfcape  (hone  the  weftering  fun, 
When  thus  the  fwain's  foliloquy  begun  : 

'  Hade  down,  O  fun,  and  clofe  the  tedious  day ! 

Time  to  the  unhappy  flowly  moves  away. 

Not  fo  to  me,  in  Roden's  fylvan  bowers,  [hours  ; 

Pafs'd  youth's   fhort  blifsful  reign  of    carclels 

When  to  my  view  the  fancy'd  future  lay, 

A  region  ever  tranquil,  ever  gay. 

O  then,  what  ardours  did  my  breaft  inflame ! 

What  thoughts  were  mine,  of  friendfhip,  love 
'  and  fame  ! 

How  taftelefs  life,  now  all  its  joys  are  try'd, 

And  warm  purfuits  in  dull  repofefubfide!' 
He  paus'd  :  his  clofing  words  Albino  heard, 
As  down  the  ftream  his  little  boat  he  fteer'd  ; 
His  hand  releas'd  the  fail,  and  dropt  the  oar, 
And  moor'd  the  light  {kiff  on  the  fedgy  (bore. 
'  Ceafe,  gentle  fwain,'  he  faid ; '  no  more,  in  vain, 
'  Thus  make  paft  pleafure  caufe  of  prefent  pain ! 
«  Ceafe,  gentle  fwain,'  he  faid ;  '  from  thee  alone 
'  Arc  youth's  bleft  hours  and  fancy'd  profpects 

'  flown? 

'  Ah  no  ! — remembrance  to  my  view  reftores 
4  Dear  native  fields,  which  now  my  foul  deplores; 
'  Rich  hills  and  vales,  and  pleafant  village  fceues 
'  Of  oaks,  \vhofe  wide  arms  ftretch'd  o'er  daified 

'  greens, 

'  And  windmill's  fails  flow-circling  in  the  breeze  ; 
'  And  cottage  walls  envelop'd  half  with  trees — 
'  Sweet  fcenes,  where  beauty  met  theravifh'dfight, 
'  And  mufic  often  gave  the  ear  delight ; 
'  Where  Delia's  fmile,  andMira's  tuneful  fong, 
'  And  Damon's  converfe,  charm'd  the  youthful 
*  throng  !  [plains, 

'  How  chang'd,  alas,  howchang'd  ! — O'er  all  our 
'  Proud  Norval  now  in  lonely  grandeur  feigns ; 
'  His  wide-fpread  park  a  wafte  of  verdure  lies, 
'  And  his  vaft  villa's  glittering  roofs  arife. 
'  For  me,  hard  fate! — But  fay,  fhall  I  complain  ? 
'  Thefe  limbs  yet  active,  life's  fupport  obtain. 
'  Let  us,  or  good  or  evil  as  we  fhare, 
'  That  thankful  prize,  and  thiswith  patience  bear.' 
The  foft  reproach  touch'd  Armyn's  gentle  breaft  ; 
His  alter'd  brow  a  placid  fmile  exprelt. 
'  Calm  as  clear  ev'nings  after  vernal  rains, 
'  When  ail  the  air  a  rich  perfume  retains, 
'  My  mind,'  faid  he, '  its  murmurs  driv'n  away, 
'  Feels  truth's  full  force,  and   bows   to  reafon's 

'  fway !' 

Heceas'd:  the  fun,  with  horizontal  beams, 
Giltthe  green  mountains,  and  the  glittering  ftrearas. 
Slow  down  the  tide  before  the  finking  breeze 
Albino's  white  fail  gleam'd  among  the  trees ; 
Slow  down  the  tide  his  winding  courfe  he  bore 
To  wat'ry  Talgar's  afpin-fhaded  fhore. 
Slow  crofs  the  valley,  to  the  fouthern  hill, 
The  fteps  of  Armyn  fought  the  diftant  vill,  [rofe ; 
"Where  through  tall  elms  the  mofs-growh  turret 
And  his  fair  manfion  offer 'd  fweet  repofe. 

ECLOGUE  IV. 

LTCORON  ;    OR,   THI  UNHAPPY.     , 
Scene,  a  Valley  ;   Seafon,  Autumn  ; .  Time,  Evening. 

THE  matron,  Autumn,  held  her  fober  reign 
O'er  fading  foliage  on  the  ruffct  plain:     . 


Mild  evening  came;  the  moon  began  to  rife, 
And  fpread  pale  luftre  o'er  unclouded  ikies. 
'  P\vas  filence  all — fave  where  along  the  road 
The  flow  wane  grating  bore  its  cumb'rous  load; 
Save  where  broad  rivers  roll'd  their  waves  away, 
And  fcreaming  herons  fought  their  wat'ry  prey- 
When  haplefs  Damon,  in  Algorno's  vale, 
Pour'd  his  foft  forrows  on  the  pafllng  gale. 
'  That  grace  pf  fliape,  that  elegance  of  air, 
That  blooming  face  fo  exquifitely  fair ; 
That  eye  of  brightnefs,  bright  as  morning's  ray, 
That  fmile  of  foftnefs,  foft  as  clofing  day, 
Which  bound  my  foul  to  thee ;  all,  all  are  fled— 
All  loft  in  dreary  manfions  of  the  dead! 
Ev'n  him,  whom  diitance  from  his  love  divides, 
1'oil'd  oh  fcorch'd  fands,  or  toft  on  rolling  tides, 
Kind  hope  ftill  cheers,  ftill  paints,  to  footh  his 

pain, 

The  happy  moment  when  they  meet  again. 
Far  worfe  my  lot !  of  hope  bereft,  I  mourn  !— 
The  parted  fpirit  never  can  return  !' 
Thus  Damon  fpoke,  as  in  the  cyprefs  gloom 
He  hung  lamenting  o'er  his  Delia's  tomb. 
In  the  ftill  valley  where  they  wander'd  near, 
Two  gentle  fhepherds  chanc'd  his  voice  to  hear: 
Lycoron's  head  time's  hand  had  filver'd  o'er, 
And.Milo's  cheek  youth's  rofy  blufhes  bore. 
'  How  mournful,'  faid   Lycoron,  '  flows   that 

'  ftrain! 

e  It  brings  paft  miferies  to  my  mind  again. 
'  When  the  blithe  village,  on  the  vernal  green, 
'  Sees  its  fair  daughters  in  the  dance  convene ; 
'  And  youth's  light  ftep  in  fearch  of  pleafure  ftrays, 
'  And  his  fond  eyes  on  beauty  fix  their  gaze ; 
'  Should'ft  thou,  then  lingering  midft  the  lovely 

'  train, 

'  Wifh  forhe  young  charmer's  eafy  heart  to  gain, 
'  Mark  well,  that  reafon  love's  purfuit  approve, 
'  Ere  thy  foft  arts  her  tender  paflions  move  : 
'  Elfe,  though  thy  thoughts  in  fummer  regiont 

range, 

'  Calm  funny  clirnes  that  feern  to  fear  no  change  ; 
'  Rude  winter's  rage  will  foon  the  fcene  deform, 
'  Dark  with  thick  cloud,  and  rough  with  battering 

ftorm ! 

'  When  parents  interdict,  and  friends  difiuade, 
'  The  prudent  cenfure,  and  the  proud  upbraid ; 
'  Think  !  all  their  efforts  then  (halt  thon  difdain, 
'  Thy  faith,  thy  conftancy,  unmov'd,  maintain  ? 
c  To  Ifca's  fields  me  once  ill-fortune  led ; 
'  In  Ifca's  fields  her  flocks  Zdinda  fed : 
'  There  oft,  when  ev'ning,  on  the  filent  plain, 
'  Commenc'd  with  fweet  ferenity  her  reign, 
'  Along  green  groves,  or  down  the  winding  dales, 
'  The  fair  one  liften'd  to  my  tender  tales  ; 
'  Then  when  her  mind,  or  doubt,  or  fear,  diftreft, 
'  And  doubt,  or  fear,  her  anxious  eyes  oppreft,  ' 
"  O  no !"  faid  I,  "  let  oxen  quit  the  mead, 
"  With  climbing  goats  on  craggy  cliffs  to  feed ; 
"  Before  the  hare  the  hound  affrighted  fly, 
"  And  larks  purfue  th»  falcon  through  the  flcy ; 
"  Streams  ceafe  to  flow,  and  winds  to  ftir  the  lake, 
"  If  I,  unfaithful,  ever  thee  forfake! — " 
'  What  my  tongue  utter'd  then,  my  heart  be- 

«  liev'd: 

'  O  wretched  heart,  ftlf-flatter'd  and  deceiv'd  [ 
'  Fell  flander's  arts  the  virgin's  fame  accus'd ; 
'  And  whom  my  love  had  chofe,  my  pride  refus'd. 


73* 


THE  WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


'  For  me,  that  cheek  did  tears  of  grief  diftain  ? 
'  To  me,  that  voice  in  anguifh  plead  in  vain  ? 
'  What  fiend  relentlefs  then  my  foul  poft'eft  ? 
'  Oblivion  hide !  for  ever  hide  the  rell ! 
'  Too  well  her  innocence  and  truth  were  prov'd ; 
'  Too  late  my  pity  and  my  juflicemov'd!'  [exprdt; 
He  ceas'd,  with  groans  that  more  than  words 
And  fmote  in  agony  his  aged  breaft. 


His  friend  reply'd  not;  but,  with  foothing  ftraiiis 
Of  folemn  mufic,  fought  to  cafe  his  pains : 
Soft  flow'd  tiie  notes,  as  gales  that  waft  perfume 
From  cow  flip  meads,  or  linden  boughs  in  Mooni. 
Peace  o'er  their  minds  a  calm  compofure  caft  ; 
And  flowly  down    the  fhadowy  vale  in  pcnfive 
mood  they  paft. 


ELEGIES;  DESCRIPTIVE  AND  MORAL. 


ELEGY  I. 

WRITTEN'  AT   THE  APPROACH  OF  SPRING. 

STERN  Winter  hence  with  all  his  train  removes, 
And  cheerful  ikies  and  limpid  ftreams  are  feen ; 

Thick-fprouting  foliage  decorates  the  groves  ; 
Reviving  herbage  clothes  the  fields  with  green. 

Yet  lovelier  fcenes  th'  approaching  months  pre 
pare; 

Kind  fpring' a  full  bounty  foon  will  be  difplay'd ; 
The  fmile  of  beauty  ev'ry  vale  fliall  wear  ; 

The  voice  of  fong  enliven  ev'ry  fhade. 

0  fancy,  paint  not  coming  days  too  fair ! 

Oft  for  the  profpe&s  fprightly  May  fliould  yield 
Rain-pouring  clouds  have  darken'd  all  the  air, 
Or  fnovvs  untimely  whiten'd  o'er  the  field : 

But  fhould  kind  fpring  her  wonted  bounty  fhow'r, 
The  irnile  of  beauty,  and  the  voice  of  long ; 

If  gloomy  thought  the  human  mind  o'erpower, 
Ev'n  vernal  hours  glide  unenjoy'd  along. 

1  fhun  the  fcenes  where  madd'ning  paffion  raves, 

Where  pride  and  folly  high  dominion  hold, 
And  unrelenting  avarice  drives  her  flaves 
O'er  proftrate  virtue,  in  purfuit  of  gold. 

The  graffy  lane,  the  wood-furrounded  field,  [gay, 
The  rude  ftone  fence  with  fragrant  wallflow'rs 

The  clay-built  cot,  to  me  more  pleafure  yield, 
Than  all  the  pomp  imperial  domes  difplay : 

And  yet  even  here,  amid  thefe  fecret  fliades, 
Thefe  fimple  fcenes  of  unreprov'd  delight, 

Affliction's  iron  hand  my  bread  invades, 
And  death's  dread  dart  is  ever  in  my  fight. 

While  genial  funs  to  genial  fhow'rs  fucceed 

(The  air  all  mildnefs,  and  the  earth  all  bloom) ; 

While  herds  and  flocks  range  fporrive  o'er  the 

mead, 
Crop  the  fweet  herb,  andfnuffthe  rich  perfume ; 

O  why  alone  to  haplefs  man  deny'd 

To  tafte  the  blil's  inferior  beings  boaft  ? 

O  why  this  fate,  that  fear  and  pain  divide 

His  few  fliort  hours  on  earth's  delightful  coafl  ? 

Ah  ceafe — no  more  of  Providence  complain  ! 

'Tis  fenfe  of  guilt  that  wakes  the  mind  to  woe, 
Gives  force  to  fear,  adds  energy  to  pain, 

And  palls  each  joy  by  Heav'n  iudulg'd  below : 


Why  elfe  the  fmiling  infant-train  fo  blcft, 

Ere  ill  propenfion  ripens  into  fin, 
Ere  wild  defire  inflames  the  youthful  breaft, 

And  dear-bought  knowledge  ends   the    peace 
within  ? 

As  to  the  bleating  tenants  of  the  field, 
As  to  the  fportive  warblers  on  the  trees, 

To  them  their  joys  fincere  the  feafons  yield, 
And  all  their  days  and  all  their  profpects  pleafc; 

Such  mine,  when  firft  from  London's  crowded, 

ftreets,  [hills, 

Rov'd  my  young  fteps  to  Surry's  xvood-crown'd 

O'er  new-blown  meads  that  breath'd  a  thoufand 

fvveets, 
By  fhady  coverts  and  by  cryftal  fills. 

O  happy  hours,  beyond  recov'ry  fled  ! 

Whatlhare  I  now  that  can  your  lofs  repay, 
While  o'er  my  mind  thefe  glooms  of  thought  are 
fpread, 

And  veil  the  light  of  life's  meridian  ray  ? 

Is  there  no  power  this  darknefs  to  remove  ? 

The  long-loft  joys-of  Eden  to  reftore  ? 
Or  raifc  our  views  to  happier  feats  above,  [more  ? 

Where  fear,  and  pain,  and  death,  fhall  be  no 

Yes,  thofc  there  are  who  know  a  Saviour's  love 
The  long-loft  joys  of  Eden  to  reftore, 

And  raife  their  views  to  happier  feats  above, 
Where  fear,  and  pain,  and  death,  fhall  be  n* 
more  : 

Thefe  grateful  fhare  the  gifts  of  nature's  hand  ; 

And  in  the  varied  fcenes  that  round  themfhine 
(Minute  and  beautiful,  or  rude  and  grand), 

Admire  th'  amazing  workmanfhip  divine. 

Blows  not  a  flow' ret  in  th*  enamell'd  vale, 
Shines  not  a  pebble  where  the  riv'let  ftrays, 

Sports  not  an  inie&  on  the  fpicy  gale,  . 

But  claims  Ihcir  wonder,  and  excites  their  praife. 

For  them  ev'n  vernal  nature  looks  more  gay, 
For  them  more  lively  hues  the  fields  adorn; 

To  them  more  fair  the  faireft  fmile  of  day, 

To  them  more  fweet  the  fvveetefl  breath  o£ 
morn. 

They  feel  the  biifs  that  hope  and  faith  fupply ; 
They  pafs  ferene  th'  appointed  hours  that  bring 


ELEGIES. 


73J 


The  clay  Aat  wafts  them  to  the  realms  on  high, 
The  day  that  centers  in  eternal  fpring. 

ELEGY  II. 

•WRITTEN  IN  THE  HOT  WEATHER,  JULY  1757 
THREE  hours  from  nuon  the  palling flvadow  fhsws, 

The  lultry  breeze  glides  faintly  o'er  the  plains. 
The  dazzling  ether  fierce  and  fiercer  glows, 

And  human  nature  i'carce  its  rage  fuilains. 

Now  flM  and  vacant  is  the  duflcy  ftreet, 
And  fti;l  and  vacant  all  yon  fields  extend, 

Save  where  thole  fwains,  opprefs'd  with  toil  and 

heat, 
The  graffy  harvefl:  of  the  mead  attend. 

Loft  is  the  lively  afpe6l  of  the  ground, 

Low  are  the  fprings,  the  reedy  ditches  dry ; 

No  verdant  fpot  in  all  the  vale  is  found, 

Save  what  yon  ftream's  unfailing  {lores  fupply. 

Where  are  the  flow'rs,  the  garden's  rich  array  ? 

Where  is  their  beauty,  where  their  fragrance 

fled? 
Their  (terns  relax,  faft  fall  their  leaves  away, 

They  fade  and  mingle  with  their  dully  bed  : 

All  hut  the  natives  of  the  torrid  zone, 

What  Afric's  wilds,  or  Peru's  fields  difplay, 

Pleas'd  with  a  clime  that  imitates  their  own, 
They  lovelier  bloom  beneath  the  parching  ray. 

Where  is  wild  nature's  heart-reviving  fong, 
That  fill'd  in  genial  fpring  the  verdant  bow'rs? 

Silent  in  gloomy  woods  the  feather'd  throng 
Pine  through  this  long,  long  courfe  of  fultry 
hours. 


Where  is  the  dream  of  blifs  by  fummer  brought  ? 

The  walk  along  the  riv'let-water'd  vale  ? 
The    field    with   verdure   clad,    with    fragrance 
fraught  ? 

The  fun  mild-beaming,  and  the  fanning  gale  ? 

The  weary  foul  imagination  cheers,     , 

Her  pleafing-  colours  paint  the  future  gay  : 

Time  paffes  on,  the  truth  itfelf  appears, 
The  pleafing  colours  inftant  fade  away. 

ID  diff'rent  feafons  diff 'rent  joys  we  place, 

And  thefe  will  fpring  fupply.  and  fummer  thefe : 

Yet  frequent  florms  the  bloom  of  fpring  deface, 
And  fummer  icarcely  brings  a  day  to  pleaie. 

O  for  fome  fecret  fhady  cool  recefs, 

Some  Gothic  dome  o'erhung  with  darkfome 

trees, 
Where  thick  damp  walls  this  raging  heat  reprcfs, 

Where  the  long  aifie  invites  the  lazy  breeze  ! 

But  why  thefe  plaints  ? — reflect,    nor  murmur 
more — 

Far  worfe  their  fate  in  many  a  foreign  land  ; 
The  Indian  tribes  on  Darien's  iwampy  more, 

The  Arabs  wand'ring  over  Mecca's  fand. 


He,  whom  fell  Febris,  rapid  fury,  burns, 

Or  Phthifis  flow  leads  ling'ring  to  the  tomb — 

Left  man  (hould  fink  beneath  the  prefent  pain ; 

Left  man  {hould  triumph  in  the  prefent  joy  ; 
For  him  th*  unvarying  laws  of  Heav'n  ordain, 

Hope  in  his  ills,  and  to  his  blifs  alloy. 

Fierce  and  opprcflive  is  the  heat  we  bear, 

Yet  not  uuufeful  to  our  humid  foil ; 
Thence  fliall  our  fruits  a  richer  flavour  fhare. 

Thence  (hall  our  plains  with  riper  harvefts  fmile. 

Reflect,  nor  murmur  more— for  good  in  all, 

Heaven  gives  the  due  degrees  of  drought  or  rain ; 

Perhaps  t;re  morn,refrefliingfhow'rs  may  fall,' 
Nor  foon  yon  fun  rife  blazing  fierce  again : 

Ev'n  now  behold  the  grateful  change  at  hand ! 

Hark,  in  the  eaft  loud-bluft'ring  gales  arife  ;     - 
Wide  and  more  wide  the  dark'ning  clouds  expand, 

And  diftant  lightnings  flafh  aloHg  the  ikies ! 

O,  in  the  awful  concert  of  the  ftorm, 

While  hail,  and  rain,  and  wind,  and  thunder  join  i 
May  deep-felt  gratitude  my  foul  inform, 

May  joyful  fongs  of  rev'rent  praifis  be  mice ! 

ELEGY  III. 
WRITTEN  IN  HARVEST. 
FAREWELL  the  pleafant  violet-fcented  fhade, 

The  primros'd  hill,  and  daify-mantled  mead ; 
The  furrow'd  land,  with  fpringing  corn  array'd; 
The  funny  wall,  with  bloomy  branches  fpread : 

Farewell  the  bow'r  with  blufhing  rofes  gay ; 

Farewell  the  fragrant  trefoil-purpled  field  ; 
Farewell  the  walk  through  rows  of  new-mown 
hay, 

When  ev'ning  breezes  mingled  odours  yield : 

Of  thefe  no  more — now  round  the  lonely  farms, 
Where  jocund  plenty  deigns  to  fix  her  feat; 

Th'  autumnal  landfcape  op'ning  ajl  its  charms, 
Declares  kind  nature's  annual  work  complete. 


In  diff'rent  parts  what  diff  'rent  views  delight, 
Where  on  neat  ridges  waves  the  golden  grain ; 

Or  where  the  bearded  barley  dazzling  white, 
Spreads  o'er  the  fteepy  flope  or  wide  champaign. 

The  fmile  of  morning  gleams  along  the  hills, 
And  wakeful  labour  calls  her  fons  abroad  ; 

They  leave  with  cheerful  look  their  lowly  vills, 
And  bid  the  fields  refign  their  ripen3  d  load. 

In  various  talks  engagu  the  ruftic  bands, 

And  here  the  fcythe,  and  there  the  fickle  wield; 

Or  rear  the  new-bound  fheaves  along  the  lands, 
Or  range  in  heaps  the  fwarths  upon  the  field. 

Some  build  the  ftiocks,  fome  load  the  fpacious 
wains, 

Some  lead  to  fhelt'ring  barns  the  fragrant  corn ; 
Some  form  tall  ricks,  that  tow'ring  o'er  the  plains 

For  many  a  miie,  the  homeftead  yards  adorn.— 


Far  worfe,  alas  !  the  feeling  mind  fuftains,  [fliame  ;     The  rattling  car  with  verdant  branches^crown'd, 


Rack'd  with   the  poignant  pang*   of   fear  or 
The  hopelefs  lover  bound  in  beauty's  chains, 
The  bard  whom  envy  robs  of  hard-earn'd  fame ; 

J-Ie,  who  a  father  or  a  mother  mourns, 
•r  lovely  cwifort  loll  ia  early- blown ; 


The  joyful  fwains  that  raife  the  clam'rous  fong, 
Th'  enclofure  gates  thrown  open  all  around, 
The  ftubble  peopled  by  the  gleaning  throng. 

Soon  mark  glad  harveft  o'er— <Ye  rural  lords, 
Whofe  wide  domaias  o'er  Albion's  ifle  extend.; 


THE   WORKS   OF    SC»TT. 


Think  whofe  kind  hand  your  annual  wealth  af 
fords, 
And  bid  to  Heaven  your  grateful  praife  afcend  ! 

For  though  no  gift  fpontaneous  of  the  ground 
Rofethefc  fair  crops  that  made  yourvalleysfmile, 

Though  the  blithe  youth  of  every  hamlet  round 
Purfued  for  thefe  through  many  a  day  their  toil; 

Yet  what  avail  your  labours  or  your  cares  ? 

Can  all  your  labours,  all  your  cares,  fnpply 
Bright  funs,  or  foft'ning  fhow'rs,  or  tepid  airs, 

Or  one  indulgent  influence  of  the  fky  ? 

For  Providence  decrees,  that  we  obtain 
With  toil  each  bleflijfg  deftin'd  to  our  ufe. ; 

But  means  to  teach  as,  that  our  toil  is  vain 
If  he  the  bounty  of  his  hand  refuic. 

Yet,  Albion,  blame  not  what  thy  crime  demands, 
*  While  this  fad  truth  the  blufhing  mufe  betrays — 
More  frequent  echoes  o'er  thy  harveft  lands, 
The  voice  of  riot  than  the  voice  of  praife. 

Prolific  though  thy  fields,  and  mild  thy  clime, 
Realms  fam'd  for  fields  as  rich,  for  climes  as  fair, 

Have  fall'n  the  prey  of  famine,  war,'  and  time, 
And  now  no  femblance  of  their  glory  bear. 

Alk  Palefline,  proud  Afia's  early  boaft, 

Where  now  the  groves  that  pourvd  her  wine 
and  oil ;  [coafl ; 

Where  the  fair  towns  that  crown'd  her  wealthy 
Where  the  glad  f wains,  that  till'd  her  fertile  foil : 

Afk,  and  behold,  and  mourn  her  haplefs  fall ! 

Where  rofe  fair  towns,  where  toii'd  the  jocund 

fwain, 
Thron'd  on  the  naked  rock  and  mould'ring  wall, 

Pale  want  and  ruin  hold  their  dreary  reign. 

Where  Jordan's  valleys  fmil'd  in  living  green, 
Where  Sharon's  flow'rs  difclos'd  their  varied 
hues, 

The  wand'ring  pilgrim  views  the  alter'd  fcene, 
And  drops  the  tear  of  pity  as  he  views. 

Aflc  Grecia,  mourning  o'er  her  ruin'd  tow'rs, 
Where  now  the  profpcfls  charm'd  her  bards  of 

old, 

Her  corn-clad  mountains  and  Elyfian  bow'rs, 
And  filver  flreams  through  fragrant  meadows 
roll'd .' 

Where  freedom's  praife  along  the  vale  was  heard, 
And  town  to  town  return'd  the  fa v 'rite  found  ; 

Where  patriot  war  her  awful  ftandard  rear'd, 
And  brav'd  the  millions  Perfia  pour'd  around  ? 

There  freedom's  praife  namore  the  valley  cheers, 
There  patriot  war  no  more  her  banner  waves; 

Nor  bard,  nor  fage,  nor  martial  chief  appears, 
But  ftern  barbarians  rule  a  land  of  flaves. 

Of  mighty  realms  are  fuch  the  poor  remains  ? 

Of  mighty  realms  that  fell,  when  mad  with 

pow'r, 
They  call'd  for  vice  to  revel  on  their  plains ; 

The  monfter  doom'd  their  offspring  to  devour  ! 

O  Albion !  wouldft  thou  fhun  their  mournful  fate, 
To  fhun  their  follies  and  their  crimes  be  thine ; 


And  woo  to  linger  in  thy  fair  retreat, 
The  radiant  virtues,  progeny  divine  ! 

Fair  truth,  with  dauntlefs  eye  and  afpecl  bland ; 

Sweet  peace  whofe  brow  no  angry  frown  de 
forms  ; 
Soft  charity,  with  over-open  hand ; 

And  courage,  calm  amid  furrounding  florms. 

O  lovely  train  !  O  hafte  to  grace  our  ifle  ! 

So  may  the  pow'r  who  ev'ry  bleffing  yields, 
Bid  on  her  clime  fereneil  feafons  fmile, 

And  crown  with  annual  wealth  her  far-fam'd 
fields. 

ELEGY  IV. 

WB1TTEN  AT   THE  APPROACH  OF   VVINTKK. 

THE  fun  far  fouthward  bends  his  annual  way, 
The  bleak  north-eaft  wind  lays  the  forefts  bare, 

The  fruit  ungather'd  quits  the  naked  fpray, 
And  dreary  winter  reigns  o'er  earth  and  air. 

No  mark  of  vegetable  life  is  feen, 

No  bird  to  bird  repeats  his  tuneful  call ; 

Save  the  dark  leaves  of  fome  rude  evergreen, 
Save  the  lone  red-breaft  on  the  mofs-grown  wall. 

Where  are  the  fprightly  profpe&s  fpring  fupply'd, 
The  may-flower'd  hedges  fcenting  every  breeze; 

The  white  flocks  fcatt'ring  o'er  th'  mountain's  fide, 
The  woodlarks  warbling  on  the  blooming  trees ; 

Where  is  gay  fu  turner's  fportive  infecl  train, 
That  in  green  fields  on  painted  pinions  play'd  ? 

The  herd  at  morn  wide-palluring  o'er  the  plain, 
Or  throng'd  at  noon-tide  in  the  willow  made  ? 

Where  is  brown  autumn's  ev'ning  mild  and  ft  ill, 
What  time  the  ripen'd  corn   frefh   fragrance 
yields, 

What  time  the  village  peoples  all  the  hill, 
And  loud  fhouts  echo  o'er  the  harveft  fields  ? 

To  former  fcenes  our  fancy  thus  returns, 

To  former  fcenes  that  little  pleas'd  when  here  ! 

Our  winter  chills  us,  and  our  fummer  burns, 
Yet  we  difiike  the  changes  of  the  year. 

To  happier  lands  then  reftlefs  fancy  flies,  [flow  » 
Where  Indian  ftreams  through  green  Savannahs 

Where  brighter  funs  and  ever  tranquil  fkies 
Bid  new  frsits  ripen,  and  new  flow'rets  blow. 

Let  truth  thefe  fairer  happier  lands  furvey— ^ 
There  frowning    months  defcencl  in    wat'ry 
florms ; 

Or  nature  faints  amid  the  blaze  of  day, 

And  one  brown  hue  the  fun-burnt  plain  deforms. 

There  oft,  as  toiling  in  the  fultry  fields, 
Or  homeward  palling  on  the  fhadelefs  way, 

His  joylefs  life  the  weary  lab'rer  yields, 
And  inftant  drops  beneath  the  deathful  ray. 

Who  dreams  of  nature,  free  from  nature's  ftrife  7 
Who  dreams  of  conftant  happinefs  below  ? 

The  hope-flufh'd  ent'rcr  on  the  Mage  of  life  ; 
The  youth  to  knowledge  unchaftis'd  by  woe. 

For  me,  long  toii'd  on  many  a  weary  road, 
Led  by  falie  hope  in  fearch  of  many  a  joy; 


ELEGIES. 


J  find  in  earth's  bleak  clime  no  ok  ft  abode, 
No  place,  no  lealon,  facred  from  annoy  : 

Forme,  while  winter  rages  round  the  plains, 
With  his  dark  days  I  human  life  compare  ; 

Not  thofc  more  fraught  with  clouds,  und  winds, 

and  rains, 
Than  this  with  pining  pain  and  anxious  care. 

O !    whence  this   wondrous  turn   of  mind   our 
fate — 

Whate'er  the  feafou  or  the  place  pofleft, 
We  ever  murmur  at  our  prefcnt  llute  , 

And  yet  the  ^bought  oi  parting  breaks  our  reft  ? 

Why  elfe,  when  heard  in  ev'ning's  folemn  gloom, 
Does  the  fad  knell,  that  founding  o'er  the  plain 

Tolls  fome  poor  lifekfs  body  to  the  tomb, 
Thus  thrill  my  breuft  with  melancholy  pain  ? 

The  voice  of  reafon  thunders  in  my  car:      [clay; 

'  Thus  thou,  ere  long,  muft   join  thy  kindred 
4  No  more  thole  noftrils  breathe  the  vital  air, 

«  No  more  thole  eyelids  open  on  the  day  !' 

O  winter,  o'er  me  hold  thy  dreary  reign ! 

Spread  wide  thy  fkies  in  darkeft,  horrors  dreft ! 
Of  their  dread  rage  no  longer  I'll  complain 

Nor  aflc  an  Eden  for  a  tranfient  gueft. 

Enough  has  Heaven  indulg'd  of  joy  below, 
To  tempt  our  tarriance  in  this  lov'd  retreat ; 

Enough  has  Heaven  ordain'd  of  ufeful  woe, 
To  make  us  languifh  for  a  happier  feat. 

There  is,  who  deems  all  climes,  all  feafons  fair  ; 

There  is,  who  knows  no  reftlefs  paflion's  ftrife  ; 
Contentment,  fmiling  at  each  idle  care  ; 

Contentment,  thankful  for  the  gift  of  life  ! 

She  finds  JH  winter  many  a  view  to  pleafe  ; 

The  morning  landfcape  fring'd  with  froft-work 

gay> 

The  fun  at  noon  feen  through  the  leaflefs  trees, 
The  clear  calm  ether  at  the  clofe  of  day  : 

She  marks  th'  advantage  ftorms  and  cloutls  bcftow, 
When  bjufl'ring  Caurus  purifies  the  air; 

When  moift  Aquarius  pours  the  fleecy  fnow, 
That  makes    th'    impregnate  glebe   a  richer 
harveft  bear : 

She  bids,  for  all,  our  grateful  praife  arife, 

To  him  whofe  mandate  fpake  the  world  to  form; 
Gay  fpring's  gay  bloom,  and  fummer's  cheerful 

fkies, 

And    ziutumn's    corn-clad    field,    and  winter 
founding  ftorm. 

ELEGY  V. 

WRITTEN  AT  AMWELL,   IN  HERTFORDSHIRE, 
1768. 

O  FRIEND  !  though  filent  thus  thy  tongue  remains, 

I  read  inquiry  in  thy  anxious  eye, 
Why  my  pale  check  the  frequent  tear  diftains, 

Why  from  my  bofom  burfts  the  frequent  figh. 

Long  from  thefe  fcenes  detain'd  in  diftant  fields, 
My  mournful  tale  perchance  efcap'd  thy  ear  : 

Frefh  grief  to  me  the  repetition  yields  ; 
Thy  kind  attention,  gives  thee  right  to  hear  ! 


Foe  to  the  world's  purfuit  of  wealth  and  fame, 
Thy  Theron  early  from  the  world  rettr'd, 

Lett  to  the  bufy  throng  each  boafted  aim, 
Nor  aught,  fave  peace  in  folitude,  dedr'd. 

A  few  choice  volumes  there  could  oft  engage, 
A  few  choice  friends  there  oft  arnus'd  the  day ; 

There  his  lov'd  parent's  flow-declining  age, 
Life's  calm  unvary'd  ev'ning,  wore  away. 

Foe  to  the  futile  manners  of  the  proud, 
He  chofe  an  humble  virgin  for  his  own  ; 

A  form  with  nature's  faircil  gifts  endow'd, 
And  pure  as  vernal  bloflbnis  newly  blown. 

Her  hand  flie  gave,  and  with  it  gave  a'heart 
By  love  engag'd,  with  gratitude  imprcft, 

Free  without  folly,  prudent  without  art, 

With  wit  accompliuYd,  and  with  virtue  blefl. 

Swift  pafs'd  the  hours;  alas,  to  pafs  no  more  ! 

Flown  like  the  light  clouds  of  a  fummer's  day! 
One  beauteous  pledge  the  beauteous  confort  bore  ; 

The  fatal  gift  forbade  the  giver's  Ray. 

Ere  twice  the  fun  perform'd  his  annual  round, 

In  one  fad  fpot  where  kindred  afhes  lie, 
O'er   wife,   and  child,    and   parents,    clos'd  the 

f  round ; 
nal  home  of  man  orclaLn'd  to  die ! 
O  ceafe  at  length,  obtrufive  mem'ry  !  ceafe. 

Nor  in  my  view  the  wretched  hours  retain, 
That  faw  difeafe  on  her  dear  life  increafe, 
And  med'cine's  lenient  arts  effay'd  in  vain. 

O  the  dread  fccne  (in  mifery  how  fublirhe)  ! 

Of  love's  vain  pray'rsto  flay  her  fleeting  breath ! 
Sufpenfe  that  reftlefs  watch'd  the  flight  of  time, 

And  helplefs  dumb  defpair  awaiting  death ! 

O  the  dread  fcenc  !— 'Tis  agony  to  tell, 

How  o'er  the  couch  of  pain  dcclin'd  my  head,- 

And  took  from  dying  lips  the  long  farewell, 
The  laft,  lad  parting,  ere  her  fpirit  fled. 

'  Reflore  her,  Heaven,  as  from  the  grave  retrieve— 
4  In  each  calm  moment  all  things  elfe  refign'd, 

'  Her  looks,  her  language,  fhow   how  hard  to 

leave 
'  The  lov'd  companion  fhe  ruuft  leave  behind. 

'  Reftore  her,  Heaven '.  for  once  in  mercy  fpare— * 
Thus  love's  vain  prayer  in  anguifh  interpos'd: 

And  foon  fufpenfe  gave  place  to  dumb  defpair, 
And  o'er  the  paft,  death's  fable  curtain  clos'd— 

In  filence  clos'd — My  thoughts  rov'd  frantic  round, 
No  hope,  no  wifh  beneath  the  fun  remaiu'd; 

Earth,  air,  and  fkies  one  difmal  wafte  I  found, 
One  pale,    dead,    dreary    blank,  with  horror 
ftain'd. 

O  lovely  flow'r,  too  fair  for  this  rude  clime! 

O  lovely  morn,  too  prodigal  of  light ! 
O  tranfient  beauties,  Wafted  in  their  prime  ! 

O  tranfient  glories,  funk  in  fuddcn  night ! 

Sweet  excellence,  by  all  who  knew  thee  mourn'd ! 

Where  is  that  form,  that  mind,  my  foul  admir'd; 
That  form,  with  every  pleafmg  charm  adorn'd; 

That  mind,  with  every  gentle  thought  infpir'd  ? 

The  face  with  rapture  view'd,  I  view  no  more; 
'Ihe  voice  >vit£  rapture  heard,  no  more  I  hor 


THE   WORKS   OF    SCOTT. 


Yet  the  lov'd  features  mem'ry's  eyes  explore ; 
Yet  the  lov'd  accents  fall  on  mem'ry's  ear. 

Ah  fad,  fad  change  (fad  fource  of  daily  pain)  ! 

That  fenfe  of  lofs  ineffable  renews ; 
While  rny  rack'd  bofom  heaves  the  figh  in  vain, 

While  my  pale  cheek  the  tear  in  vain  bedews. 

Still  o'er  the  grave  that  holds  the  dear  remains, 
The  mould'ring  veil  her  fpirit  left  below, 

Fond  fancy  dwells,  and  pours  funereal  ftrains, 
The  foul-diflblving  melody  of  woe. 

Nor  mine  alone  to  bear  this  painful  doom, 
Nor  (he  alone  the  tear  of  long  obtains ; 

The  mufe  of  Blagdon  *,  o'er  Conftantia's  tomb, 
In  all  the  eloquence  of  grief  complains. 

My  friend's  fair  hope,  like  mine,  fo  lately  gain'd ; 

His  heart,  like  mine,  in  its  true  partner  bleft  ; 
Both  from  one  caufe  the  fame  diftrefs  fuftain'd, 

The  fame  fad  hours  beheld  us  both  dittreft. 

O  human  life !  how  mutable,  how  vain  ! 

How  thy  wide  forrows  circumfcribe  thy  joy— 
A  funny  ifland  in  a  ftormy  main, 

A  fpct  of  azure  in  a  cloudy  Iky ! 

All-gracious  Heaven  !  fmce  man,  infatuate  man, 
Refts  in  thy  works  too  negligent  of  thee, 

l^ays  for  himfelf  on  earth  his  little  plan, 
Dreads  not,  or  diftant  views  mortality ; 

*Tis  but  to  wake  to  nobler  thought  the  foul, 
To  roufe  us  ling'ring  on  earth's  flowery  plain, 

To  virtue's  path  our  wand'rings  to  controul, 
Affliiflion  frowning  comes,  thy  minifler  of  pain  ! 

AMWELL: 

A  DESCRIPTIVE  POEM. 

THERE  dwells  a  fond  defire  in  human  minds, 
"When  pleas'd,  their  pleafure  to  extend  to  thofe 
Of  kindred  tafte ;  and  thence  th'  inchanting  arts 
Of  pi&ure  and  of  fong,  the  femblance  fair 
Of  nature's  forms  produce.     This  fond  defire 
Prompts  me  to  fing  the  lonely  fylvan  fcenes 
Of  Am  well ;  which,  fo  foft  in  early  youth, 
\Vhiie  novelty  enhanc'd  their  native  charms, 
Cave  rapture  to  my  foul ;  and  often,  ftill, 
On  life's  calm  moments  fhed  ferener  joy. 

Descriptive  mufe  !  whofe  hand  along  the  ftream 
Of  ancient  Thames,  through  Richmond's  fliady 

groves, 

And  Sheen's  fair  valleys,  once  thy  •}-  Thomfon  led, 
And  once  o'er  green  Carmarthen's  woody  vales, 
And  funny  landscapes  of  Campania's  plain, 
Thy  other  favour'd  bard  f  ;  thou,  who  fo  late, 
In  bowers  by  Clent's  wild  peakcs  §,  to  Shenftone's 

ear 

Didfl  bring'fweet  ftrains  of  rural  melody, 
(Alas  no  longer  heard  !) — vouchsafe  thine  aid: 

*  See  ver/es  written  at  Sandgate  cajlh,  in  memory 
if  a  lady,  by  tie  late  ingenious  Dr.  Langbonie. 

f  Thomfon,  author  of  the  Seafons,  rcfided  fart  cf 
tit  life  near  Richmond. 

\  Dyer,  Author  of  Groiivar  Hill;  The  rains  cf 
Rome;  and  that  excellent  neglected  poem,  The  Fleece. 

§  The  Clent-bills  adjoin  to  H^ghy-park,.  and  arc 
nit  Jar  drflqnt  from  the  Leajbive;. 


From  all  our  rich  varieties  of  view, 
What  beft  may  pleafe,  aflift  me  to  felect, 
With  art  difpofe,  with  energy  defcribe, 
And  its  full  image  on  the  mind  imprefs. 

And  ye,  who  e'er  in  thefe  delightful  fields 
Confum'd  with  me  the  focial  hour,  while  I 
Your  walk  conducted  o'er  their  lovelieft  fpots, 
And  on  their  faireft  objects  fix'd  your  fight; 
Accept  this  vcrfe,  which  may  to  memory  call 
That  focial  hour,  and  fweetly  varied  walk  '. 

And  thou,  by  ftrong  connubial  union  mine  ; 
Mine,  by  the  ftronger  union  of  the  heart ; 
In  whom  the  lots  of  parents  and  of  friends, 
And  her,  the  firft  fair  partner  of  my  joys, 
All  recompens'd  I  find  ;  whofe  pretence  cheers 
The  foft  domeftic  fcene:    Maria,  come  ! 
The  country   calls  us  forth ;    blithe    funamer's 

hand 
Sheds  fweeteft  flowers,   and  morning's  brighteft 

(mile 

Illumines  earth  and  air  ;  Maria,  come  1 
By    winding    pathways    through    the    waving 

corn, 

We  reach  the  airy  point  that  profpedl  yields, 
Not  vaft  and  awful,  but  confin'd  and  fair ; 
Not  the  black  mountain  and  the  foamy  main : 
Not  the  throng'd  city  and  the  bufy  port ; 
But  pleafant  interchange  of  foft  afcent, 
And  level  plain,  and  growth  of  fliady  woods, 
And  twining  courfe  of  rivers  clear,  and  fight 
Of  rural  towns,  and  rural  cots,  whofe  roofs 
Rife  fcattering  round,  and  animate  the  whole. 
Far   tow'rds  the  weft,  dole  under  flickering 

hills, 

In  verdant  meads,  by  Lee's  cerulean  ftream, 
Hertford's  gray  towers  *  afcends ;  the  rude  re 
mains 

Of  high  antiquity,  from  wafte  efcap'd 
Of  envious  time,  and  violence  of  war. 
For  war  there  once,  fo  tells  th'  hiftaric  page, 
Led  delegation's  (teps  :  the  hardy  Dane, 
By  avarice  hir'd,  o'er  ocean's  ftormy  wave, 
To  ravage  Albion's  plains,  his  favourite  feat, 
There  fix'd  awhile  ;  and  there  his  caftles  rear'd 
Among  the  trees;  arid-there,  beneath  yon  ridge 
Of  piny  rocks,  his  conquering  navy  moor'd, 
With  idle  fails  furl'd  on  the  yard,  and  oars 
Recumbent  on  the  flood,  and  ft  reamers  gay 
Triumphant  fluttering  on  the  patting  winds. 
In  fear,  the  fhepherd  on  the  lonely  heath 
Tended  his  fcanty  flock  ;  the  ploughman  turn'd. 
In  fear,  his  hafty  furrow  :  oft  the  din 
Of  holtile  arms  alarm'd  the  cap,  fend  flames 
Of  plunder'd  towns  through  night's  thick  gloom 

from  far 

Gleam'd  difmal  on  the  fight  :  till  Alfred  came, 
Till  Alfred,  father  of  his  people,  came, 
Lee's  rapid  tide  into  new  channels  turn'd, 
And  left  a-ground  the  Danian  fleet,  and  forc'd 

*  In  the  beginning  (if  the  Heftarcly,  the  toiuti 
of  Hertford  ivas  accounted  one  of  the  •principal 
cities  of  tie  Ea/l  Saxons,  'where  the  kings  of  that 
province  often  kept  their  courts,  and  a  parlia 
mentary  council,  or  nationalfynod,  was  held,  Sept.- 
Zqtb,  673.  Chauncy's  HUl.  ofjiertfordfliire,  p.  237-. 


P    0    £ 

The  foe  to  fp'eedv  flight  *.    Tlien  freedom's  voice 

Reviv'd  the  drooping  fwain  ;  then  plenty's  hand 

Recloth'd  the  dei'ert  fields,  and  peace  and  love 

Sat  fmiling  by  ;  as  now  they  fmiling  fit, 

Obvious  to  fancy's  eye,  upon  the  fide 

•Of  yon  bright  mnny  theatre  of  hills, 

Where    Bengeo's    villas  rife,    and   Ware   Park's 

lawns 

Spread  their  green  furface,  interfpers'd  with  groves 
Of  broad  umbrageous  oak,  and  fpiry  pine, 
Tall  elm,  and  linden  pale,  and  blofibm'd  thorn, 
Breathing  mild  fragrance,  like  the  fpicy  gales 
Of  Indian  iflands.    On  the  ample  brow, 
Where  that  white  temple  rears  its  piliar'd  front 
Half  hid  with  glofiy  foliage,  many  a  chief 
Renown'd  for  martial  deeds,  and  many  a  bard 
Renown'd  for  fong,  have  patVd  the  rural  hour. 
The  gentle  Fanfliaw  f    there,   from  "  noife  of 

,  "  camps, 

"  From  courts  difeafe  retir'd  t,"  delighted  view'd 
The  gaudy  garden  fam'd  in  Wotton's  page  |[ ; 
Or  in  the  verdant  maze,  or  cool  arcade, 
Sat  mufing,  and  from  i  moor  h  Italian  drains 
The  foft  Guarini's  amorous  lore  transfus'd 
Into  rude  Bririili  verfe.     The  warrior's  arm 
Now  refts  from  toil ;  the  poet's  tuneful  tongue 
In  filence  lies  ;  frail  man  his  lov'd  domains 
Soon  quits  for  ever  !  they  themfelves,  by  courfe 
Of  nature  often,  or  caprice  of  art, 
Experience  chsoge  :  even  here,  'tis  faid  of  old 
Steep  rocky  cliffs  rofe  where  yon  gentle  dopes 
Mix  with  the  vale ;  and  fluctuating  waves  i 

Spread  wide,  where  that  rich  vale  \Vith  golden 

flowers 
Shines,  and  where  yonder  winding  chryftal  rill, 

*  Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  year  879,  the 
Xlanes  advanced  to  the  borders-  of  Mercia,  and 
ere  fled  ttvofyrts  at  Hertford  on  the  Lee,  for  the 
fecnrity  of  their  flips,  which  they  had  brought  up 
that  river.  Here  they  were  attacked  by  the  Lon 
doners,  who  were  repulfed  But  Alfred-advanced 
luith  his  army,  and  viewing  the  nature  of  their 
Jituation,  turned  the  courfe  of  tbejlream,  fo  that 
their  vejels  were  left  on  dry  ground  ;  a  circum- 
ftance  which  terrified  them  tofuch  a  degree,  that 
they  abandoned  their  forts,  and,  flying  towards 
the  Severn,  were  purfned  by  Alfred  as  far  as 
Quatbridge.  Smollet's  Hift.  of  England,  8vo. 
Edition,  vol.  i.  p.  183. 

t  Sir  Richard  FanjhaWy  tranflator  of  Cucirini's 
Pa/lor  Fido,  the  Lujiad  of  L'amoens,  $jc.  He 
.was  f  on  of  Sir  Henry  Fanjlaw  of  Ware-Park, 
and  is  faid  to  have  refilled  much  there,  tie  was 
arnbajadar  to  Portugal,  and  afterwards  to  Spain, 
and  died  at  Madrid  in  1606.  His  body  was 
brought  to  England  and  interred  in  Ware  'ihurch, 
where  his  monument  is  fill  exifting.  In  Gibber's 
Lives  of  the  Poets,  it  is  crroneoujly  ajferted,  that 
ke  was  buried  in  All-faints  church,  Hertford. 

J  The  words  marked  with  inverted  commas  are 
part  of  afati'za  of  Fan/haw's. 

||  See  Reliquce  IVottonian*,  where  the  anther 
makes  a  particular  mention  of  the  garden  of  Sir 
Henry  Fanjkaw  at  Ware^Fark,  "  as  a  delicate 
and  diligent  curicjity,"  remarkable  for  the  nice 
arrangement  of  its  flowers. 

VOL  XI. 


Slides  through  its  fmootn  fiiorn  margin,  to  the 

brink 
Of  Chadwell's  azure  pool.      From    Chadwell'a 

pool 

To  London's  plains,  the  Cambrian  artift  brought 
His  ample  aqueduct  *;  fuppos'd  a  work 
Of  matcblefs  (kill,  by  thofe  who  near  had  heard 
How,  from  Prenefte's  heights  and  Anio's  banks, 
liy  Tivoli,  to  Rome's  imperial  walls, 
On  marble  arches  came  the  limpid1  (tore, 
And  out  of  jalp'cr  rocks  in  bright  cafcades 
With  never-ceafing  murmur  giiih'd  ;  or 
To  Lulitanian  Ulylippo's  towers  f, 
The  fitver -current  o'er  Alcant'ra's  vale 
Roll'd  high  in  air.  as  ancient  poets  feign'd 
Eridanus  to  roll  through  heaven  :   to  thefe 
Not  fordid  lucre,  but  the  honeft  wifli 
Of  future  fame,  or  care  for  public  wea), 
Exigence  gave  ;  and  unconfin'd,  as  dew 
Falls  from  the  hand  of  evening  on  the  fields, 
They  flow'd  for  all.     Our  mercenary  ftream, 
No  grandeur  boartihg,  here  obfcurely  glides 
O'er  graffy  lawns  or  under  wilfow  (hades. 
As,  thro'ugh  the  human  form,  arterial  tubes 
Branch'd  every  way,  minute  and  more  minute, 
The  circulating  fanguine  fluid  extend ; 
So,  pipes  innumerable  to  peopled  ftreets 
Tranfmit  the  purchas'd  wave.     Old  Lee,  mean* 

while, 

Beneath  his  mofly  grot  o'erhung  with  boughs 
Of  poplar  quivering  in  the  breeze,  fnrveys 
With  eye  indignant  hi's  diminifh'd  tide  J 
That  laves  yon  ancient  priory's  Wall  $,  and  (how? 
In  its  clear  mirror  Ware's  inverted  roofs.  . 

Ware  once  was  known  to  fame;  to  her  fair 

fields 

Whilom  the  Gothic  tournament's  prond  pomp 
Brought    Albion's  valiant  youth  and   blooming 

maids: 

Pleas'd  vvith  ideas.of  the  paft,  the  mufe 
Bids  fancy's  pencil  paint  the  fcene,  where  they 
In  gilded  barges  on  the  glafly  ftream 
Circled  the  reedy  ides,  the  fpoitive  dance 
Along  the  fm'ooth  lawn  led,  or  in  the  groves 
Wander'd  converting,  of  reclin'd  at  cafe 
To  harmony  of  lutes  and  voices  fweet. 
Refign'd  the  enchanted  ear;  till  fudden  heard 
The  filver  trumpet's  animating  found 
Sum'mori'd  the  champions  forth ;  on  (lately  fteed«5' 
In  fp-iendid  armotir  clad,  the  ponderous  lance 
Witli  ftrenipus  hand  fultaiaing,  forth  they  came. 
Where  gay ''pavilions  rofe  upon  the  plain. 
Or  azure  a  \ynings  Itretch'd  from  tree  to  tree, 

*  The  New  River  brought  from  Cladwell,  d 
f]iri?iir  in  the  meadows  tftiueen  Hertford  and 
tVare,  by  Sir  Hugh  Middletori,  a  native  of 
Walts. 

f  'The  ancient  name  of  Lijbon. 

\  A  conjiderable  part  of  the  New  River  water 
is  derived  from  the  Lee,  to  the  difadvantage  of 
the  navigation  on  thatjireatn. 

§  "  About  the  itth  of  Hemy  III.  Margaret, 
"  Countefs  of  Leicejler,  and  LaJy  of  the  Manor/ 
"  founded  a  priory  for  friars  in  the  north  part  of 
"  this  town  of  Ware,  and  dedicated  the  fame  tat 
"  St.  Francis."  Chauncy's  Hift.  (f  "—r-*™**-' 
2  ' 


THE   WORKS    OF   SCOTT. 


Mix'cl  with  thick  foliage,  form'd  a  mimic  fky 
Of  grateful  (hade  (as  oft  in  Agra's  ftrcets 
The  lilken  canopy  from  fide  to  fide 
Extends  to  break  the  fun's  impetuous  ray, 
While  monarchs  pal's  beneath)  ;  there  iat  the  fair, 
A  glittering  train  on  coftly  carpets  rang'd, 
A  gror.p  of  beauties  all  in  youthful  prime, 
Of  vaiious  feature  and  of  various  grace  '. 
The  penfive  languifli,  and  the  fprightiy  air, 
Ta'  engaging  fmik,  and  all  the  namelefs  charms 
"Which  tranfient  hope,  or  fear,  or  grief,  or  joy, 
Wak'd  in  th'  exprefli ve  eye,  th'  enamour'd  heart 
Of  each  young  hero  rous'd  to  daring  deeds. 
iNor  this  aught  ftrange,  that  thofe  %vhom  love  in- 

fpir'd 

Prov'd  e  v'ry  means  the  lovely  fex  to  pleafe  : 
'Tis  ftrange,  indeed,  how  cuftom  thus  could  teach 
The  tender  breaft  complacence  in  the  fight 
Of  barb'rous  fport,  where  friend  from   hand  of 

friend 

The  fatal  wound  full  oft  receiv'd,  and  fell 
A  victim  to  falfe  glory  ;  as  that  day 
Fell  gallant  Pembroke,  while  his  pompous  fliow 
Ended  in  filent  gloom  *.     One  pitying  tear 
To  human  frailty  paid  ;  my  roving  fight 
Purfues  its  pleafing  courfe  o'er  neighb'ring  hills, 
"Where  frequent  hedge-rows  interfe<£t  rich  fields 
Of  many  a  different  form  and  different  hue, 
bright  with  ripe  corn,   or  green  with  grafs,  or 
dark  [mount 

With   clover's    purple    bloom ;    o'er   Widbury's 
With  that  fair  crefcent  crown'd  of  lofty  elms, 
Its  own  peculi  r  boaft  ;  and  o'er  the  woods 
That  round  immure  the  deep  fequefter'd  dale 
Of  Langley  f,  down   whole   tiow'r-embroider'd 

meads 

Swift  Afh  through  pebbly  fliores  meandering  rolls, 
Elyfian  fcene  !  as  from  the  living  world 
Secluded  quite  ;  for  of  that  world,  to  him 
"Whofe  wand'rings  trace  thy  winding  length,  ap 
pears 

No  mark,  fave  one  white  folitary  fpire 
At  diftance  rifing  through  the  tufted  trees— 
Zlyfian  fcene  !  reclufe  as  that,  fo  fam'd 
for  folitude,  by  Warwick's  ancient  walls, 

*  <c  In  the  *$th  of  Henry  III.  on  the  i-)th  of 
"  June,  Gilbert  Mar/ball,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  a 
"  potent  peer  of  the  realm,  proclaimed  here  [at 
"  Ware]  a  difport  of  running  on  borfeback  'with 
"  lances,  which  ivas  then  called  a  tournament.'" 
Chauncy's  Hift.  of  Hertfordihire. 

"  At  this  tournament,  the  faid  Gilbert  iixis 
"  Jlain  by  a  fall  from  bis  borfe  ;  Robert  de  Suy. 
"  one  of  bis  knights,  <v:a.t  killed,  and.  federal 
*'  others  'wounded."  Sruollet's  Hift.  of  Eng 
land. 

f  This  delightful  retreat,  commonly  called. 
Langley-bcttoin,  isfituaied  about  half  a  mile  from 
Ware,  and  the  fame  diftance  from  Amnvell.  The 
fcene  is  adapted  to  contemplation,  and  fojej/es 
jticb  capabilities  nf  improvement,  that  the  gtaau 
of  a  Sbeii/lone  wight  caf.ly  convert  it  to  a  fccond 
JLeafowes.  The  tranfition  from  this  folitude  to 
Widbury-HUl,  is  made  In  a  walk  of  a  few  minutes, 
find  tbfprofpfft from  that  hill,  in  a  fine  evening, 
TJ  beautiful  beyond  description. 


Where  under  umbrage  of  the  moffy  cliff 
Victorious  Guy,  fo  legends  lay,  reclin'd 
His  hoary  head  befide  the  filver  ftream, 
In  meditation  rapt  —  Elyfian  fcene  ! 
At  ev'ning  often,  while  the  fetting  fun 
On  the  green  fummit  of  thy  eaftern  groves 
Pour'd  full  his  yellow  radiance  ;  while  the  voice 
Of  zephyr  whifpering  'midlt  the  ruftling  leaves, 
The  found  of  water  murmuring  through  the  ftdge, 
The  turtle's  plaintive  call,  and  mufic  foft 
Of  distant  bells,  whole  ever  varying  notes 
In  flow  fad  meafure  mov'd,  combin'd  to  footh 
1  lie  foul  to  fweet  folemnity  of  thought  ; 
Beneath  thy  branchy  bowers  of  thickeft  gloom, 
Much  on  the  imperfeifl  tlate  of  man  I've  mus'd: 
How  pain  o'er  half  his  hours  her  iron  reign 
Ruthlefs  extends  '.  how  pleafure  from  the  path 
Of  innocence  allures  his  fteps;  how  hope 
Directs  his  eye  to  diftant  joy,  that  liies 
His  fond  purl'uit  ;  how  fear  his  ibuddering  heart 
Alarms  with  fancy'd  ill;  how  doubt  and  care 
Perplex  his  thought  ;  how  foon  the  tender  rofe 
Of  beauty  fades,  the  fturdy  oak  of  ftrength 
Declines  to  earth,  and  over  all  our  pride 
Stern  time  triumphant  ftands.    From  general  fate 
To  private  woes  then  oft  has  memory  pafs'd, 
And  mournM  the  lofs  of  many  a  friend  belov'd  ; 
Of  thee,   de  Home,  kind,   generous,  wife,  and 

good! 

And  thee,  my  Turner,  who,  in  vacant  youth, 
Here  oft  in  converie  free,  or  ftudious  fearch 
Of  claffic  lore,  accompany'd  my  walk  ! 
From  Ware's  green  bowers,  to  Devon's  myrtle 

vales, 

Remov'd  awhile,  with  profpect  opening  fair 
Of  ufefel  life  and  honour  in  his  view  ; 
As  falls  the  vernal  blbom  before  the  breath 
Of  blafting  Eurus.  immature  he  fell  ! 
The  tidings  reach'd  my  ear,  and  iirmy  breaft, 
Aching  with  recent  wounds  *,  new  anguifh  wak'd. 
When  melancholy  thus  has  chang'd  to  grief, 
That  grief  in  foft  forgetfulnefs  to  lofe, 
I've  left  the  gloom  for  gayer  fcenes,  and  fought 
Through  winding  paths  of  venerable  fhade, 
The  airy  brow  where  that  tall  fpreading  beech 
O'ertops  furrounding  groves,  up  rocky  fteeps, 
Tree  over  tree  difpos'd  ;  or  ftretching  far 
Their  fliadowy  coverts  down  th'  indented  fide 
Of  fair  corn-fields  ;  or  pierc'd  with  funny  glades, 
That  yield  the  cafual  glimpfe  of  flowery  meads 
And  fliining  filver  rills  ;  ,on  thefe  the  eye 
Then   wunt   to  expatiate  pleas'd  ;  or  more  re 

mote 

Survey'd  yon  vale  of  Lee,  in  verdant  length 
Of  level  lawn  fpread  out  to  Kent's  blue  hills. 
And  the  proud  range  of  glitt'ring  fpires  that  rife 
In  miity  air  on  Thames's  crowded  meres. 

How  beautiful,  how  various,  is  the  view 
Of  thefe  fwcet  paftoral  landlcapes  !  fair,   perhaps 
As  thofe  renown'd  of  old,  from  Tabor's  height, 
Or  Carmei  feen  ;  or  thofe,  the  pride  of  Greece, 
Tempe  or  Arcady  ;  or  thoie  that  grac'd 
The  banks  of  clear  Elorus,  or  the  Ikirts 
Of  thymy  Hybla,  where  Sicilia's  ifle 
Smiles  on  the  azure  main  ;  there  once  was  hcari 


*  See  L!egy  written  at  Ainwcll, 


POEMS. 


The  mule's  lofty  la}'.— How  beautiful, 
How  various  is  yon  view  !  delicious  hills 
Bounding  fmooth  vales,   fmooth  vales  by  winding 

fi.te.ims 

Divided,  that  here  glide  through  grafly  banks 
In  open  fun,  there  wander  under  (hade 
Of  afpen  tall,  or  ancient  elm,  whofe  boughs 
U'crhang  gray  caflles,  and  romantic  farms, 
And  humble  cots  of  happy  iliephcrd  f wains. 
Delightful  habitations.',   with  the  fong 
Of  birds  melodious  chnnu'J,  and  bleat  of  flocks 
From  upland  paftures  heard,  and  low  of  kinc 
Grazing  the  rulliy  mead,  and  mingled  founds 
Ot falling  waters  and  of  whify'ring  winds — 
Delightful  habitations!  o'er  the  land 
Difpers'd  around,  from  Waltham's  ofier'd  ides 
To  where  bleak  Nafing's  lonely  tower  o'ertooks 
Her  verdant  fields ;  from  Raydon's  pleafant  groves 
And  Hunfdon's  bowers  on  Stori's  irriguous  marge, 
By  Rhye's  old  walls,  to  Hodfdon's  airy  ftreet ; 
From  Haly's  woodland  to  the  llow'ry  meads 
Of  willow-fhaded  Stanfted,  and  the  (bpe 
Of  Annvell's  mount,   that   crown'd  with  yellow 

corn; 

There  from  the  green  flat,  foftly  fuelling,  fliows 
Like  fome  bright  vernal  cloud  by  zephyr's  breath 
Juft  rais'd  above  the  horizon's  azure  bound. 

As  one  long  travell'd  on  Italia's  plains. 
The  land  of  pomp  and  beauty,  (till  his  feet 
On  his  own  Albion  joys  to  fix  again  ; 
So  my  pleas'd  eye,  which  o'er  the  profpect  wide 
Has  wander'd  round,  and  various  objects  maik'd, 
On  Amwell  refts  at  laft,  its  favourite  fcene  ! 
How  pieflurefque  the  view  !    where  up  the  fide 
Of  that  fteep  bank,  her  roofs,  of  ruflet  thatch 
Rife  mix'd  with  trees,  above  whofe  fwelling  tops 
Afcends  the  tall  church  tow'r,  and  loftier  ftill 
The  hill's  extended  ridge.    How  pidlurefque  ! 
"Where  flow  beneath  tbat  bank  the  filver  ftream 
Glides  by  the  flowery  ille,  and  willow  groves 
Wave  on  its  northern  verge,  with  trembling  tufts 
Of  ofier  intermix'd.     How  pidturefque    1 
The  flendtr  group  of  airy  elm,  the  clump 
Of  pollard  oak,  or  afh,  with  ivy  brown 
Entwin'd  ;  the  walnut's  gloomy  breadth  of  boughs, 
The  orchard's  ancient  fence  of  rugged  pales, 
The  hayftack's  duiky  cone,  the  mofs-grown  llied, 
The  clay-built  barn  ;  the  elder-fhaded  cot, 
Whofe  white-wafti'd    gable    prominent  through 

green 

Of  waving  branches  (hows,  perchance  infcrib'd 
With  ibme  pad  owner's  name,  or  rudely  grac'd 
With  ruftic  dial,  that  fcarccly  ferves  to  mark 
Time's  ceafelcfs  flight ;  the  wall  with  mantling 

vines 
O'erfpread,  the  porch  with   climbing  woodbine 

wreath'd, 

And  under  flickering  eves  the  funny  bench 
Where  brown  hives  range,  whofe  bufy  tenants 

fin; 

With  drowfy  hum,  the  little  garden  gay, 
Whence   blooming  beans,  and  fpicy  herbs,  and 

flowers, 

Exhale  around  a  rich  perfume  !  Here  rrfts 
The  empty  wain  ;  there  idle  lies  the  plough  : 
By  Summer's  hand  unharnefs'd,  here  the  fteed, 
Short  eafe  enjoying,  crops  the  daifieJ  lawn ; 


Here  bleats  the  nurflinglamr),  the  heifer  there 
Waits  at  the  yard-gate  lowing.     By  the  road, 
Where  the  neat  ale-houfe    ftands  (fo   once  flood 

thine, 

Dcferted  Auburn  !  in  immortal  foil*' 
Confign'd  to  fame  *),  the  cottage  fire  recounts 
The  praife  he  earn'd  when  crofs  the  field  he  drew 
The  ftraighteft  furrow,  or  neateir.  built  the  rick, 
Or  led  the  reaper  band  in  fultry  noons 
With  unabating  ftrength,  or  won  the  prize 
At  many  a  crowded  wake.     Befide  her  door, 
The  cottage  matron  v/hirls  her  circling  wheel, 
And  jocund  chants  her  lay.     The  cottage  maid 
Feeds  from  her  loaded  lap  her  mingled  train 
Of  clamorous  hungry  fowls  ;  or  o'er  the  ftile 
Leaning  with  downcaft  look,  the  artlefs  tale 
Of  ev'ning  courdhip  hears.  The  fportive  troop 
Of  cottage  children  on  the  grafly  wafte 
Mix  in  rude  gambols,  or  the  bounding  ball 
Circle  from  hand  to  hand,  or  ruftic  notes 
Wake  on  their  pipes  of  jointed  reed  :  while  near 
The  careful  fhepherd's  frequent-falling  flrokes 
Fix  on  the  fallow  lea  his  hurdled  fold. 

Such  rural  life  !  fo  calm,  it  little  yields 
Of  interefting  aft,  to  fvvell  the  page 
Of  hiftory  or  fong  ;  yet  much  the  foul 
Its  fweet  fimplicity  delights,  and  oft 
From  nolle,  of  bufy  towns,  to  fields  and  groves, 
The  mufc's  fons  have  fled  to  find  repofe. 
Fam'd  Walton  |,  erft,  the  ingenious  fifher  fwain, 
Oft  our  fair  haunts  explor'd;  upon  Lee's  fhore, 
Beneath  fome  green  tree  oft  his  angle  laid, 
His  fport  fufpending  to  admire  their  charms. 
He,  who  in  verfe  his  country's  ftory  told  |, 

*  Set  The  Defirted  tillage,  a  beautiful  poem,  by  the 
late  Dr.  Goldfmith. 

•)•  Ifaac  fixation,  author  of  The  Complete  Angler,  an 
ingenious  biographer,  and  no  difpicable  post.  The  feme 
of  bis  Anglers'  Dialogues,  is  the  vale  of  Lee,  between 
'Tottenham  and  W 'arc  ;  itfeems  to  have  been  a  plc.ce  k: 
much  fr  squinted  :  he  particularly  mentions  Afmvell-hill. 

\  William  Warner,  author  »f  Albion's  ]?n?Lind,  an 
Hijiorical  Poem ;  an  epifjde  tf  tablet,  intituled  Argentile 
and  Curan,  has  been  frequently  reprinted,  and  is  n::.cb 
admired  by  the  lovers  of  old  Eiiglijh  poetry.  The  in%c* 
nious  Dr.  Percy,  ivho  has  inferted  this  piece  in  bis  Col 
lection, obferves,  that,  "though  [farrier's  name  isfofel- 
"  dam  mentioned,  bis  cotemporaries  rartkrd  him  on  a  level 
"  I'jith  Spenfer,  and  called  than  the  Homer  and  J'^irvil 
"  of  their  age ;''  that  Warner  iua;  faid  to  have  teen 
<(  a  Wjriuitkjbire  man,  and  to  ha-ve  been  educated  at 
"  Mavdalen  Hall ;  tbat,  in  tie  latter  fart  of  his  life, 
"  he  iuas  retained  in  the  fervice  of  Henry  Cory,  Lord 
"  HunfJon,  to  tk-liom  he  dedicates  his  poem  ;  but  that 
"  mare  cf  his  hiflory  is  not  knoivn."  Mr;.  Cooper,  in. 
her  Mufes"1  Library,  after  higLly  applauding  his  pastry, 
adds,  "  What  were  the  circuwflanccs  and  accidents  of 
"  bis  life,  tve  hai'e  hardly  li^ht  enough  to  conjefiure  ; 
"  any  more  than,  iy  his  dedication,  it  appears  he  ivas.  in 
"  the  fer-vice  cf  the  Lord  Hutifdon,  and  acknowledges' 
''•  I'fry  gi'atefiiHy  both  father  and  fan  for  bis  patrons  and 
"  bzt'.zftiflorsl'—Bytl-efdhiving  cxtraf}  from  the  Pa- 
rifh  Regijler  of  Amivcll,  it  may  be  reafonalilv  concluded, 
that  Warner  refidedfor  fome  time  st  that  -jiU.ige  ;  and, 
as  his  profejpvn  of  an  attorney  is  particularly  mentioned, 
it  is  pritly  evident,  that,  wta tever  dependence  he  might 
f^ate  an  Lord  HunfJon,  it  could  ntt  Ire  in  tbe capacity  vftt 
,;  A  ij 


THE   WORKS   OF    SCOTT. 


Here  dwelt  a  while;  perchance  here  fketch'd  the  I  Of  folemn  thought;  then  feck  th'  adjacent  fpot. 


fcene, 

Where  his  fair  Argentile,  from  crowded  courts 
For  pride  fe!f-banifh'd,  in  fequefter'd  {hades 
Sojourn'd  dii'guis'd,  and  met  the  flighted  youth 
"Who  long  had  fought  her  love— the  gentle  bard 
Sleeps  here,  by  fame  forgotten  ;   (fickle  fame 
Too  oft  forgets  her  favourites  !)   By  his  fide 
Sleeps  gentle  Haffal  *,  who  with  tendereft  care 
Here  watch'd  his  village  charge ;  in  nuptial  bonds 
Their  hands  oft  join'd ;  oft  heard,  and  oft  reliev'd 
Their  little  v/ants  ;  oft  heard  and  oft  compos'd, 
Sole  arbiter,  their  little  broils;  oft  urg'd 
Their  flight  from  folly  and  from  vice ;  and  oft 
Dropt  on  the  graves  the  tear,  to  early  worth' 
Or  ancient  friendship  due.  In  dangerous  days, 
"When  death's  fell  fury,  pale-ey'd  peftilencc, 
Glar'd  horror  round,  his  duty  he  difcharg'd 
Unterrified,  unhurt;  and  here,  at  length, 
Clos'd  his  calm  inoffenfive  ufeful  life 
In  venerable  age  :  her  life  with  him 
His  faithful  confort  clos'd ;  on  earth's  cold  bread 

Both  funk  to  reft  together. On  the  turf, 

Whence  time's  rude  grafp  has  torn    their  ruftic 

tombs, 
1  ftrew  frefh  flowers,  and  make  a  moment's  paufe 

mental  f:r*jant.  Though  Warner's  merit,  as  a  poet, 
•may  have  been  too  highly  rated,  it  -was  really  not  incon- 
f:derable ;  his  Irgcntillo  and  Ciiran  has  many  beauties  ; 
lilt  it  has  alfo  the  fat;  Its  common  to  tie  competitions  of  'bis 
age,  efpecijlly  a  ino-ft  difgitfiing  indelicacy  offcntimcnt  and 
txprejjion. 

"  Ma.  .William  Warner,  a  man  of  good  ycares  and 
"  honffl  reputation,  by  bis  profr/Jion,  an  attttrney  at  the 
"  Common  Plenfe,  outlier  of  Albioi\s  England ;  dyinv 
"  foddcnly  in  the  night  in  his  bedde,  "without  any  former 
"  coniplayntorjiibit[fe,on  T'aurfday  night,  beeing  the  yth 
"  of  March,  -was  buried  the  Saturday  fallvivmg,  and 
"  lieth  in  the  church  at  tbe  upper  end,  under  the  Jlonecf 
"  Giualttr  Fader," 

Parifh  Register  of  Amwell,  1608-9. 
*  Thomas  H.ffal,  vicar  of  Atnti'fll ;  he  kept  the  a- 
kove-mcntioned  paiijb  regifier  icitfj  uncommon  care  and 
f  red/ion,  enriching  it  -with  many  entertaining  anecdotes 
of  the  parties  rtgifttrtd.  He  performed  'j;s  duty  in  the. 
txojl  hazardous  rircumjtances,  it  appcannv  tbgt  tbe  plague 
i".iicf  raved  in  the  "village  during  his  rtfidatcc  lucr;  ,-  //; 
1603,  tvben  l.b  pcrfoiis,  an.?  in  1625  Tu/jen  21  perfun; 
died  of  it,  and  ivere  buried  in  his  chur:h-\ard.  The  <•/.•.:- 
rafter  hers  given  of  him  nuijl  be  alloiutd,j}ri£i!y  frcatixg, 
to  Le  imaginary  ;  but  his  compvfitioit,  ir  ibefitid  regijler^_ 
appearedto  me  to  breathefuch  a  fpirit  of  piety, fim [-.licit-!, 
and  benevolence,  that  I  almofl  think  mvfetf  ar.'tfjcrff,..'  to 
ajjert  that  it  teas  his  real  one.  He  bimjflf  is  regijlered 
t>y  his  fan  Edmund  Haffal,  as  fcllcius  : 

"  Thomas  Hnjjfa!,  'vicar  of  this  parifi,  where  he  had 
"  continued  reftdnt  $J  \esrs  J  months  and  1 6  days,  in 
"  the  reigns  of  <$^/cfn  Elizabeth,  Kin%  Jame?,  and  King 
"  Charles,  departed  this  life  September  Z^tk,  Thurfda",, 
"  anJicas  buried  September  l6ib,  Saturday.  If  is  body 
"  ivai  laid  in  the  charcti  pf  this  church,  under  the  pricjls, 
"  or  marble  ftonc.  .tfUatis  84.  Non  erat  ante,  nee 
**  erit  poft  te  fimilis.  Edmund  Haffd." 

Regifter  of  Amweil,  1657. 

Elifabeth  Haffal,  -zi'iff  of  the  faid  Thomas  Haffal, 
died  about  the  fame  time,  aged  78  years  8  moriJis,  married 
46  ytars  anil  4  mt»tk{. 


From  which,  through  thefe  broad  lindens'  verdant 

arch. 

The  fteeple's  Gothic  wall  and  window  dim 
In  peifpedive  appear;  then  homeward  turn 
By  where  the  mute,  enamour'd  of  our  fhades. 
Deigns   ftill  her  favouring  prei'ence ;   where  my 

friend. 

The  Britifh  Taffo  *,  oft  frombufy  fcenes 
To  rural  calm  and  lettcr'd  eafe  retires. 
:    As  fome  fond  lover  leaves  his  favourite  nymph, 
Oft  looking  back,  and  lingering  in  her  view, 
So  now  reluctant  this  retreat  I  leave, 
Look  after  look  indulging;  on  the  right, 
Up  to  yon  airy  battlement's  broad  top 
Half  yeil'd  with  trees,  that,  from  th'  acclivious 
Jut  like  the  pendent  gardens,  fam'd  of  old, 
Eefide  Euphrates'  bank ;  then,  on  the  left, 
Down  to  thofe  (haded  cotSj  and  bright  expanfe 
Of  water  foftly  fliding  by :  once,  where 
That  bright  expanfe  of  water  foftiy  flides, 
O'erhung  with  fhrubs  that  fring'd  the  chalky  rock, 
A  little  fount  pour'd  forth  its  gurgling  rill, 
In  flinty  channel  trickling  o'er  the  green, 
From  Emma  nam'd  ;  perhaps  fome  fainted  maidj 
For  holy  life  rever'd  ;  to  fuch,  erewhile, 
Kond  fupcrflition  many  a  pleafant  grove, 
And  limpid  fpring,  was  wont  to  confecrate. 
Of  Emma's  {lory  nought  tradition  fpeaks; 
Conjecture,  who,  behind  oblivion's  veil, 
Along  the  doubtful  paft  delights  to  ftray, 
Boafls  now,  indeed,  that  from  her  well  the  place 

Receiv'd  its  appellation  j. Thou,  fweet  Vill, 

Farewell!  and  ye,  fweet  fields,  where  plenty's  hora 

Pours  liberal  boons,  and  health  propitious  deigns* 

Her  cheering  fmile !  you  not  the  perching  air 

Of  arid  fands,  you  not  the  vapours  chill 

Of  humid  fens,  annoy  ;  Favonius'  wing, 

From  off  your  thyme-banks  and  your  trefoil  meads. 

Wafts  balmy  redolence;  robuftandgay 

Your  fwains  induftricus  iffue  to  their  toil, 

Till  your  rich  glebe,  or  in  your  granaries  ftore 

Its  generous  produce :  annual  ye  refound 

The  ploughman's  fong,  as  he  through  reeking  foil 

f'ruides  flow  his  fhining.fhare;  ye  annual  hear 

The  fliQUts  of  hnrveft,  and  the  prattling  train 

Of  cheerful  gleaners: — and  th'  alternate  ftroke? 

Of  loud  flails  echoing  from  your  loaded  barns^ 

The  pallid  morn  in  dnik  November  wake. 

But,  happy  as  ye  are,  in  marks  of  wealth 

And  population  ;  not  for  thefe,  or  aught 

Befide,  wifh  I,  in  hyperbolic  ftrains 

Of  vain  applauft,  to  elevate  your  fame 

Above  all  other  fcenes ;  for  fcenes  as  fair 

Have  charm'd  my  fight,  but  tranfient  war,  the  view  •> 

You,  through  all  feafons,  in  each  varied  hour 

For  obfervation  happieft,  oft  my  fteps 

*  Mr.  Hoale,  Tranjlator  of  Tajfi's  Jerufalem  De 
livered. 

•j-  In  Daomfday-look,  this  -jillagt  of  Am-u-ell  is  writ 
ten  Emmeville,  perhaps  originally  ILmma  V  icell.  When 
tbe  Netv  Rii'cr  ivas  opened,  there  was  a  fpring  here 
tvhich  ivas  taken  into  that  aquedufi.  Chadivell,  ther 
other  fource  of  that  rii'er,  evidently  received  its  denomi 
nation  from  the  tutelar  Saint,  St.  Chad,  -who  feents  to 
have  given  name  tcjjirings  and  tl'dls  in  different  farts 
of  England* 


POEM 


Have  travers'd  o'er;  oft  fancy's  eye  lias  feen 

Gay  fpring  trip  lightly  on  your  lovely  lawns. 

To  \vdte  freih  flowers  at  morn;  and  fummer  fpread 

His  liitleis  limbs,  at  noon-tide,  on  the  marge 

Of  fmooth  tranflucent  pools,  where  willows  green 

Gave  fliade,  and  breezes  from    the  wild  mint's 

bloom 

Brought  odour  exquifite ;  oft  fancy's  ear, 
Deep  in  the  gloom  of  evening  woods,  has  heard 
The  laft  fed  figh  of  autumn,  when  his  throne 
To  winter  he  reiign'd ;  oft  fancy's  thought, 
In  ecftafy,  where  from  the  golden  eaft, 
Or  dazzling  fouth,  or  crimfon  weft,  the  fun 
A  different  luftrc  o'er  the  landfcape  threw, 
Some  Paradiie  has  ibrm'd,  the  blifsful  feat 


Of  innocence  and  beauty !  while  I  wiih'd 
The  fkill  of  Claude,  or  Rubens,  or  of  him 
Wuom  now   on  Lavant's  banks,  in  groves  that 

breathe 

F.nthufiafm  fublime.  the  fifter  nymphs  • 
Inipire  f  ;  that,  to  the  idea  fair,  my  hand 
Might  permanence  have  lent !— Attachment  ftrong 
Springs  from  delight  beftow'd ;  to  me  delight 
Long  ye  have  given ,  and  1  have  given  you  praife  I 

*   Painting  and  poetry. 

f  Mr.  George  Smith  of  Cbicbejler,  ajufly  celeorat- 
cd  liindfcape  painter,  and  alfo  a  poet.  Levant  is  a  name 
if  the  river  at  Cbicbejlert  "u,bub  city  gave  birth  to  its 
fublime  Collins. 


AMOEBEAN    ECLOGUES. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


UCH  of  the  rural  imagery  which  our  country  affords,  has  already  been  introduced  in  poetry;  but 
many  obvious  and  pieafing  appearances  feem  to  have  totally  cfcaped  notice.  To  defcribe  thefe,  is 
the  bufmefs  of  the  following  Eclogues.  The  plan  of  the  Carmen  Amoebxum,  or  refponiive  verfe  of 
the  ancients,  inconfiftent  as  it  may  be  deemed  with  modern  manners,  was  preferred  on  this  occafion, 
as  admitting  an  arbitrary  and  defultory  difpofition  of  ideas,  where  it  was  found  difficult  to  preferve 
a  regular  connection. 


ECLOGUE  I. 
RURAL  SCENERY;  or,  THE  DESCRIEERS. 

DECEMBER'S    froft    had  bound  the    fields  and 

ftreams, 

And  noon's  bright  fun  effus'd  its  cheerful  beams : 
Where  w,oodland,  northward,  fcreen'd  a  pkafant 

plain, 

And  on  dry  fern-banks  brouz'd  the  fleecy  train, 
Two  gentle  youths,  whom  rural  fcenes  could  pleafe, 
Both  flcill*d  to  frame  the  tuneful  rhyme  with  eafe, 
Charm'd  with  the  profpedt,  flowly  tlray'd  along, 
Themfelves  amufing  witli  alternate  fong. 

Fir/}. 

Thefe  pollard  oaks  their  tawny  leaves  retain, 
Thefe  hardy  hornbeams  yet  unflripp'd  remain ; 
The  wint'ry  groves  all  elfe  admit  the  view 
Through  naked  ftems  of  many  a  varied  hue. 
Siauut, 

Yon  fhrubby  flopes  a  pleafing  mixture  fhow ; 
There  the  rough  elm   and  fmooth  white  privet 

grow, 

Strait  moots  of  afh  with  bark  of  gloffy  gray, 
Red  cornel  twigs,  and  maple's  ruffet  fpray. 
Firjt. 

Thefe  ftony  fteeps  with  fpreading  mofs  abound, 
Gray  on  the  trees,  and  green  upon  the  ground; 
\V  ith  tangling  brambles  ivy  interweaves. 
And  bright  mezerion  *  fpreads  its  cluft'ring  leaver. 

*  Mezerion,  Lattreola  Sempervirens  :  vulg.  Spurge- 
laurel.  This  beautiful  little  evergreen  is  frequent  among 
cur  -woods  and  coppices.  Its  fmooth  fbin ing  leaves  are 
f  laced  on  the  top  ofthejlcms  in  circular  tufts  or  cliifters. 
Itsfoivcrs  arefmall,  of  a  light  green,  and  perfumt  the 


Old  oaken  ftubs  tough  faplings  there  adorn, 
There  hedge-row  plafhes  yield  the  knotty  thorn  ; 
The  fwainfor  different  ufes  thefe  avail, 
And  form  the  traveller's  ftaff,  the  threfher's  flail. 
Firft. 

Where  yon  brown  hazel's  pendent  catkins  bear, 
And  prickly  furze  unfolds  its  blofloms  fair, 
The  vagrant  artiil  oft  at  eafe  reclines, 
And  broom's  green  fhoots  in  befom's  neat  combine?* 
Second. 

See,  down  the  hill,  along  the  ample  glade, 
The  new-fallen  wood  in  even  ranges  laid ! 
There  his  keen  bill  the  bufy  workman  plies, 
A  .ad  bids  in  heaps  his  well-bound  faggots  rife. 
Firji. 

Soon  fhall  kind  fpring  her  flowery  gifts  beflow,] 
On  funny  banks  when  ulver  fnowdrops  blow, 
And  tufts  of  primrofe  all  around  are  fpread, 
And  purple  violets  all  their  fragrance  fhed. 
Second. 

The  \voods  then  white  anemonics  array, 
And  lofty  fallows  their  fweet  bloom  difplay, 
And  fpicy  hyacinths  tizure  bells  unfold, 
And  crowfoot  clothes  the  mead  with  fluning  gold, 
Firfl. 

Then  foon  gay  fummer  brings  his  gaudy  train, 
Hi'J  crinifon  poppies  deck  the  corn-clad  plain  ; 


air  at  a  di/lance  in  an  agreeable  manner.  It  bloivt  very 
early  in  miljfeafons  and  ivarmjituatiim.  Tbt  common 
deciduous  mezerion ,  frequently  planted  in  gardens  t  though 
very  different  in  appearance,  is  another  ffecics  of  (bit 


74* 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


There  fcabious  "blue  *,  and  purple  knapweed  f  rife, 
And  weld  f  and  yarrow  ihow  their  various  dyes. 

Second. 

In  fliady  lanes  red  foxglove  bells  appear, 
And  golden  fpikes  the  downy  mulleins  rear  [|  ; 
The  inclofure  ditch  luxuriant  mallows  hide, 
And  branchy  fuccory  crowds  the  pathway  iide, 

Firjl. 

The  autumnal  fields  few  pleafing  plants  fupply, 
Save  where  pale  eyebright  grows  in  naftures  dry, 
Or  vervain  blue,  for  magic  rites  renowii'd, 
And  in  the  village  precincts  only  found  §. 

Second. 

Th'  autumnal  hedges  withering  leaves  embrown, 
Save  where    wild    climbers'  fpiead    their   iiivtry 

down  f , 

And  rugged  blackthornes  bend  with  purple  floes, 
And    the    green    Jkewtrwood    feeds    of    fcarlct 
(hows**, 

Fir/. 

When  healthful  iallads  crown  the  board  in  fpring, 
And  nymphs  green  parfley  from  the  gardens  bring, 
Mark  well  leil  hemlock  mix  its  pcifonous  leaves — 
Their  femblance  oft  th'  incatious  eye  deceives. 
Second. 

Warn,  O  ye  fhepherds !  warn  the  youth  who  play 
On  hamlet  waftes,  befide  the  public  way  ; 
There  oft  rank  foils  pernicious  plants  produce, 
There  nightfhade's  berry  fwells  with  deadly  juice. 
Firjl. 

What  varied  fcenes  this  pleafant  country  yields, 
Form'dby  th'  arrangement  fair  of  woodsand  fields! 
On  a  green  hillock,  by  the  fhady  road, 
My  dwelling  (lands — a  fweet  reclufe  abode  ! 
And  o'er  my  darken'd  cafcment  intertwine 
The  fragrant  briar,  the  woodbine,  and  the  vine. 
Second. 

How  different  fcenes  our  different  taftes  delight ! 
Some  feek  the  hills,  and  fome  the  vaits  invite. 
Where  o'er  the  brook's  moifl  margin  hazels  meet, 
Stands  my  lone  home — a  pleafant,  cool  retreat ! 
Gay  loofeftrife  there  and  pale  valerian  fpring  jf, 
And  tuneful  reed-birds  midft  the  fedgcs  ling. 

*   Scabious  :   Sca'biofj.  vulgaris. 

•}•  Knapweed :  Jacea  vulgaris. 

|    Weld;    Ltiteola   vulgjrij,  or  dyers'   ".veed. 
Thefe  plants-,  viith  many  tthers  not  inferior  in  beauty,  are 
frequent  on  tie  balks,  or  ridges,  -which  feparate  different 
'r  of  corn  in  our  ccm man  fields . 

||  'Th:  digitalis,  or  foxglove,  is  a  very  beautiful  plant ; 
there  arefcveral  varieties  of  it  ivhich  are  honoured  icitb 
a  place  in  our  gardens.  The  mullein  is  not  inferior  in 
beauty,  consequently  merits  equal  notice. 

§  It  is  a  vulgar  opinion,  that  vervain  never  grows  in 
pay  place  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dijlant  from  a 
iiauff. — Vide  Millers  Gardener's  DiSiiutiury,  article 
verbena. 

*\   Wild  climbers  :    Clematis,   v\->rna,  or  traveller's 
•iy.   The  white  downy  feeds  of  this  plant  mate  a   very 
-ic  nous  figure  on  sur  hedges  in  autumn. 

**  Steiuertvood:  Evonymus  ;  or  fpindle*tree.  The 
twigs  of  ihii  Jbritb  are  of  a  fine  gretn  ;  the  capfules,  or 
'jted-veffcli,  of  a  foil  purple  ;  and  the  feeds  of  a  ricbfcar- 
l~t.  In  autumn,  -when  the  capfules  open  and  Jho-w  the 
j'acJs,  the  plant  has  a  mojl  beautiful  appearance. 

f  f  Lwfejltife  ;  Lyfunacbia  lutea  vulgaris.   Dr.  Hill 
: '    .  •:•«,  that  it  is  fo  beautiful  af.'j/!t,  in  its  cre£}ftaiuret 


Firfr. 


Before  my  door  the  box-edg'd  border  lies, 
Where  flowers  of  mint  and  thyme  and  tanfy  rife ; 
Along  my  wall  the  yellow  ftonecrop  grows, 
And  the  red  houfelcek  on  my  brown  thatch  blows. 
Second, 

Among  green  ofiers  winds  my  ftream  away, 
Where  the  blue  halcyon  Ikinis  from  fpray  to  fpiay, 
Where  wavvs  ihe  bull  uih  as  the  \vaters  glide, 
And  yellow  flag-flow 'rs  deck  the  funny  fide. 
Firjl. 

Spread  o'er  the  flope  ot  yen  fleep  weftern  hill, 
My  fruitful  orchard  ihdters  al!  the  vill ; 
There  pear-trees  tall  their  tojviaipiring  {how, 
And  appk-boughs  their  branches,  mix  below. 

Second. 

Eaft  from  my  cottage  itretch  delightful  meads, 
Where  rows  oi  willows  rile,  und  banks  of  reeds; 
There  roll  clfar  rivers ;  there,  old  elms  between, 
The  mill's  white  loof  and  circling  wheais  are  fetn. 
Fir/. 

Palernon's  garden  hawthorn  hedges  bound, 
With  flow 'rs  of  whke,  or  fruit  of  crimfon,crown'd; 
There  vernal  lilacs  Ihow  tiieir  purple  bloom, 
And  fwcet  fyringas  ail  the  air  perfume  ; 
The  fruitful  mulberry  fprc-ads  its  umbrage  cool, 
And  the  rough  tjuince  o'erhangb  the  little  pool. 
Second. 

Albino's  fence  greer  currants  hide  from  view, 
With  bunches  hung  of  red  or  amber  hue  ; 
Eefide  his  arbour  blows  the  jalmme  fair, 
And  fcarlet  beans  their  gaudy  bloffoms  bear  ; 
The  lofty  hollyhock  there  its  fpike  difplays, 
And  the  broad  funflow'r  fhows  its  golden  rays. 

Firjl. 

Where  mofs-grown  pales  a  funny  fpot  enclos'd, 
And  pinks  and  lilies  all  their  hues  expos'd, 
Bentath  a  porch,  with  mantling  vines  enwreath'd, 
The  morning  breeze  the  charming  Sylvia  breath'd: 
Not  pink  nor  lily  with  her  face  could  vit, 
And,  O  how  foft  the  languifh  of  her  eye  ! 
I  uw  and  lov'd  ;  but  lov'd,  alas,  in  vain  ! 
She  check'd  my  pafiion  with  fcvere  difdain. 

Second. 

When  o'er  the  meads  with  vernal  verdure  gay 
The  village  children  wont  at  eve  to  ftray, 
I  pluck'd  ircfh  flow'rets  from  the  graffy  ground, 
And  their  green  fblks  with  bending  rufhes  bound; 
My  wreaths,  my  nofegays,  then  my  Delia  dreil, 
Crown'd  her    fair   brow,  or    bloom'd    upun  her 

breaft. 

Young  as  I  was,  the  plea.fing  thought  was  mine, 
One  day,  fond  boy,  that  beauty  will  be  thine ! 

fie/. 

Befide  his  gate,  beneath  the  lofty  tree, 
Old  Thyrfis'  well-known  feat  I  vacant  fee ; 
There,  while   his  prattling  offspring  round  him 

play'd, 

He  oft,  to  pleafe  them,  toys  of  ofiers  made : 
That  feat  his  weight  fliall  never  more  fuftain, 
That  offspring  round  him  ne'er  fhall  fport  again. 

Second. 

Yon  lone  church  tow'r  that  overlooks  the  hills  I— 
The  tight  my  foul  full  oft  with  forrow  fills  : 

rrgular  grttutb,  and  elegant  foii-trs,  that  is  every  way 
tvjrthy  to  be  taken  into  our  gardens.  It  is  frequent  in 
Koi/fljees.  Thefoiven  are  of  a  Irirkt  gold  colour. 


POEMS. 


743 


There  Damon  lies ; — In  prime  of  youth  he  died ! — 
A  ford  unknown,  by  night  he  vent'rous  tried  : 
In  vain  he  ftruggled  with  the  foaming  wave ; 
No  friendly  arm,  alas,  was  near  to  fave  ! 

Firft. 
Ceafe,  friend '.  and,  homeward  as  we  bend  our 

way, 

Remark  the  beauties  of  the  clofing  day  ; 
See,  tow'rds  the  weft,  the  redd'ning  fun  declines, 
And  o'er  the  fields  his  level  luftre  fames. 

Second. 

How  that  bright  landfcape  lures  the  eye  to  gaze, 
Where  with  his  beams  the  diftant  windows  blaze ! 
And  the  gilt  vane,  high  on  the  fteeple  fpire, 
Glows  in  the  air— a  dazzling  fpot  of  fire  ! 

l<irf. 

Behind  yon  hill  he  now  forfakes  our  fight, 
And  yon  tall  beeches  catch  his  lateft  light; 
The  hamlet  fmokes  in  amber  wreaths  arife  ; 
White  milt,  like  water,  on  the  valley  lies. 

Stcpnd. 
Where  yon   chalk  cliffs  th'  horizon  eafhvard 

bound, 

And  fpreading  elms  the  ancient  hall  fnrround, 
The  moon's  bright  orb  arifes  from  the  main, 
And  night  in  filence  holds  her  iblema  reign. 

ECLOGUE  II. 
RURAL  BUSINESS;  or,  THE  ASRICULTURISTS. 

MAY'S  lib'ral  hand  her  fragrant  bloom  difclos'd, 
And  herds  and  flocks  on  graffy  banks  repos'd; 
Soft  evening  gave  to  eafe  the  tranquil  hour, 
And  Philomel's  wild  warblings  fill'd  the  bow'r. 
Where  near  the  village  rofe  the  elm-crown'd  hill, 
And  white-leav'd  afpins  trembled  o'er  the  rill, 
Three  rural  bards,  the  village  youth  among, 
The  pleafmg  lore  of  rural  bufinefs  fung. 
Fir/1. 

The  care  of  farms  we  fing — attend  the  ftrain — 
What  {kill,  what  toil,  fhall  beft  procure  you  gain; 
How  different  culture  different  ground, requires ; 
While  wealth  rewards  whom  induilry  inlpires. 
Second. 

When  thy  light  land  on  fcorching  gravel  lies, 
And  to  the  fpringing  blade  fuppoit  denies  j 
Fix  on  the  wint'ry  tilth  the  frequent  fold, 
And  mend  with  cooling  marl  or  untried  mould. 
Third. 

If  thy  ftrong  loam  fuperfluons  wet  retain, 
Lead  through  thy  fields  the  fubterraneous  drain, 
And  o'er  the  ftirUre  mellowing  Itorcs  expand 
Of  fiery  lime,  or  incoherent  fund. 
Fiijl. 

In  vacant  corners,  on  the  hamlet  wade, 
The  ample  dunghill's  {learning  heap  be  plac'd; 
There  many  a  month  fermenting  to  remain, 
Ere  thy  flow  team  difperfe  it  o'^r  the  plain. 
Second. 

The  prudent  farmer  all  manure  provides, 
The  mire  of  roads  the  mould  ofhedge-row  fides  ; 
For  him  their  mud  the  ftagnant  ponds  fupply  ; 
For  him  their  foil,  the  ftable  and  the  fty. 
Third. 

For  this  the  fwain,  on  Kennel's  winding  more, 
Digs  fulphurous  peat  along  tiie  fable  moor; 
For  this,  where  oce;m  bounds  the  {tormy  ftrand, 
They  fetCjh  dank  fea-;veed  to  the  neighb'ring  land. 


Tiijt. 


Who  barren  heaths  to  tillage  means  to  turn, 
Muft,  ere  he  plough,  the  greenfward  pate  and 

burn  ; 

Where  rife  the  fmoking  hillocks  o'er  the  field, 
The  faline  allies  ufeful  compoft  yield. 

Second. 

Where  fedge  or  ruffles  rite  on  fpongy  foils, 
Or  rampant  mofs  th'  impoverifh'd  herbage  fpoils, 
Corrofive  foot  with  liberal  hand  beftow  ; 
Th'  improving  palture  foon  its  ufe  will  (how. 

Third. 

Hertfordian  fvrains  on  airy  hills  explore 
The  chalk's  white  vein,  a  fertilizing  ftore  ; 
This,  from  deep  pits  in  copious  baikets  drawn, 
Amends  alike  the  arable  and  lawn. 

Firft. 

Who  fpends  too  oft  in  indolence  thf  day, 
Soon  ices  his  farm  his  bafe  negledt  betray ; 
His  ufelefs  hedge-greens,  docks  and  nettles  bear. 
And  the  tough  cammock  clogs  his  finning  (hare*. 

Second. 

Thy  weedy  fallows  let  the  plough  pervade, 
Till  on  the  top  th'  inverted  roots  are  laid; 
There  left  to  wither  in  the  noon-tide  ray, 
Or  by  the  fpiky  harrow  clear'd  away. 

Third 

When  wheat'sgreen  item  the  ridge  begins  to  hide, 
Let  the  fharp  weedhook's  frequent  aid  be  tried, 
Led  thy  fpoiPd  crop  at  harveit  thou  bemoan, 
With  twitch  and  twining  bindweed  overgrown. 

Firft. 

Much  will  rank  melilot  thy  grain  difgrace, 
And  darnel,  felleft  of  the  weedy  race  : 
T*  extirpate  thefe  might  care  or  coil  avail, 
T'  extirpate  thefe  nor  care  nor  coft  ihould  fail* 

Second. 

When  the  foul  furrow  fetid  mayweed  fills, 
The  weary  reaper  oft  complains  of  ills; 
As  his  keen  fickle  grides  along  the  lands, 
The  acrid  herbage  oft  corrodes  his  hands. 

Third. 

Wield  oft  thy  fcythe  along  the  graffy  layes, 
Ere  the  rude  thiftle  its  light  down  difplays ; 
Elfe  that  light  down  upon  the  breeze  will  lly, 
And  a  new  (tore  of  noxious  plants  fupply. 

Tirjt. 

Would  ye  from  tillage  ample  gains  receive, 
With  change  of  crops  th'  exhausted  foil  relieve  J 
Next  purple  clover  let  brown  wheat  be  feen, 
And  bearded  barley  after  turnips  green. 

Seconi. 

Bid  here  dark  peas  or  tangled  vetches  fpread, 
There  buckwheat's  white  ilow'r  faintly  ting'd  with 

red  j 

Bid  here  potatoes  deep  green  ftems  be  born, 
And  yellow  cole  th'  enclofure  there  adorn. 

Third. 

Here  let  tall  rye  or  fragrant  beans  afcend, 
Or  oats  their  ample  panicles  extend  ; 
There  reft  thy  glebe,  left  fallow  not  in  vain, 
To  feel  the  iummer's  fun  and  winter's  rain. 

*  Cammock :  Or.onis,  or  Rcftharrovu.  TJ)e  roott 
of  tbis  troublcfomc  plant  are  fn  ftrong,  that  it  is 
credibly  a/crted  they  will  flop  a  f'ot'gb  tira'i'.'i  ty 
korftt, 

?  A  iiij 


THE   WC£KS   OF   SCOTT. 


Fir/I. 

The  ikill'd  in  culture  oft  repay  their  toil 
jBy  choice  of  plants  adapted  to  their  loii ; 
The  fpiky  faintfoin  beft  on  chalk  fucc'eeds, 
The  lucern  hates  cold  clays  and  moory  meads. 

Second, 
Beft  on  loofe  fantfs,  where  brakes  and  brtan 

once  role, 

Its  deep  fring'd  leaves  the  yellow  carrot  fliows ; 
^5eft  on  ftiflf  loam  rough  teak-Is*  rear  their  heads, 
.And  brown  coii^nder'*  odorous  umbel  fpreads. 

Ttjird. 

On  barren  mountains,  bleak  with  chilly  air, 
Forbidding  pafturage  or  the  ploughman's  care, 
laburnum's  boughs  a  beauteous  bloom  difclofe, 
Or  fpiry  pines  a  gloomy  grove  compofe. 

Firjl. 

On  rufhy  marfhts,  rank  with  wat'ry  weeds, 
Clothe  the  cleai'd  foil   with    groves   of  waving 

reeds ; 

Of  them  the  gard'ner  annual  fences  forms, 
To  fliield  his  tender  plants  from  vernal  florins. 

.Second. 

Cantabrian  hills  the  purple  fuffron  fliow  ; 
Blue  fields  of  flax  in  Lincoln's  fenland  blow  ; 
On  Keiit's  rich  plains,  green  hop-ground*  lcc.it  the 

gales; 
And  apple-groves  deck  Hereford's  golden  vales  f. 

Thi,d. 

Shelter'd  by  woods  the  weald  of  Sufiex  lies ; 
Her  fmooth  green  downs  fublime  from  ocean  rife: 
That,  fittelt  foil  fupplies  for  growth  of  grain  ; 
Thefe,  yield  beft  pafture  for  the  fleecy  train. 

Firfi 

Say, friends  !  whot-'er  hisrefidence  might  choofe, 
Woujd  thefe  fweet  fcenes  of  tylvan  fliatle  refufe, 
And  feek  the  black  wafte  of  the  barren  wold, 
That  yields  no  flicker  from  the  h&at  or  cold  ? 

Second. 

Dull  are  flow  Oufa's  mid-exhaling  plains, 
Where  long  rank  grafi  the  morning  dew  retains  : 
Who  paftures  there  in  autumn's  humid  reign,     ' 
His  flock  from  fickntfs  hopes  to  fave  in  vain. 

Third 

The  bleak,  flat,  fedgy  fhores  of  Eflex  fliun, 
Where  fog  perpetual  veils  the  winter  fun  ; 
Though  flattering  fortune  there  invite  thy  ftay, 
Thy  health  the  purchafe  of  her  faults  mult  pay; 

'  Firft. 

When,  harveft  paft,  thy  ricks  of  yellow  corn 
Rife  round    the  yard,    and  fcent  the   breeze  of 

morn ; 

Rude  winter's  rage  with  timely  cars  t'  avert, 
!|.et  the  ikill'd  thatcher  ply  his  ufeful  art. 

Second. 

When  thy  ripe  walnuts  deck  the  glofly  fpray, 
Ere  pilfering  rooks  purloin  them  fad  away, 
Wield  thy  tough  pole,  and  lalh  the  trees  amain, 
Till  leaves  and  hulks  the  lawn  beneath  diftain. 

*  Teafel :  Dipfacus  Sativus.  Tins  plant  is  cul 
tivated,  in  many  places,  for  the  ufe  of  the  woollen 
inanufaSure.  Tbetv  are  large  fields  of  it  in  EjJ'ex ; 
where  the  coriander  is  alfo  groivft. 

f  There  is  a  part  of  Hertford/lire,  from  its  ex- 
tiaordinary  fertility  and  pleufaainefs,  ufually  de 
nominated  The  Golden  Veils. 


Third. 
When  thy  green  orchards  fraught  with  fruit 

appear 

Thy  lofty  ladder  'midft  the  boughs  uprear  ; 
Thy  bafket's  hook  upon  the  branch  fufpend, 
And  with  the  fragrant  burden  oft  defcend. 

Firft. 

Spread  on  the  grafs,  or  pil'd  in  heaps,  behold 
The  pearmain's  red,  the  pippin's  fpeckled  gold  ; 
There  lhall  the  ruflet's  auburn  rind  be  feen, 
The  read-ftreak's  ftripes,  and  nonpareil's  bright 
green. 

Second. 

Thefe  on  dry  ftraw,  in  airy  chambers,  lay, 
Where  windows  clear  admit  the  noon-tide  ray; 
They,  fafe  from  frofts,  thy  table  fliall  fupply, 
Freih  to  the  tafte,  and  pleafmg  to  the  eye. 

Third. 

When  favouring  feafons  yield  thee  (lore  to  ipare, 
The  circling  mill  and  cumbrous  prefs  prepare  ; 
From  copious  vats,  the  well-fermented  juice 
Will  fparkling  beverage  for  thy  board  produce. 

Firft. 

From  red  toblack  when  bramble-berries  change, 
And  boys  for  nuts  the  hazel  copfes  range, 
On  new  reap'd  fields  the  thick  ftrong  ftubble  mow, 
And  fafe  in  flacks  about  thy  homeitead  flow. 

Second. 

With  purple  fruit  when  elder  branches  bend, 
And  their  bright  hues  the  hips  and  cornels  blend, 
Ere  yet  chill  hoar  froft  comes,  or  fleety  rain, 
Sow  with  choice  wheat  the  neatly  furrow'd  plain. 

Third. 

When  clamorous  fieldfares  feek  the  !roj?en  mead, 
And  lurking  fnipes  by  gurgling  runnels  leed; 
Then  'midft  dry  fodder  let  thy  herds  be  found, 
Where  flickering  fheds  the  well-ilor'd  crib  far- 
round. 

Firft. 

Though  winter  reigns,  our  labours  never  fail : 
Then  all  day  long  we  hear  the  founding  flail: 
And  oft  the  beetle's  ftrenuous  ftroke  delcends, 
That  knotty  block-wood  into  billets  rends. 

Second. 

Then  in  the  barns  in  motion  oft  are  feen 
The  ruftling  corn-fan,  and  the  wiry  fcreen  ; 
In  facks  the  talker  meafures  up  his  grain, 
And  loads  for  market  on  the  fpacious  wain,. 

Third. 

Th'  enclofure  fence  then  claims  our  timely  carp, 
The  ditch  to  deepen,  and  the  bank  repair; 
The  well-plafh'd  hedge  with  frequent  Itakes  con 
fine, 
And  o'er  its  top  tough  wyths  of  hazel  twine. 

Vrfi. 

Where  in  the  croft  the  rufiet  hayrick  (land}, 
The  dextrous  binder  twills  his  fedgy  bands, 
Acrois  the  flack  his  fliafp-edgM  engine  gtfides, 
And  the  hard  mafs  in  many  a  trufs  divides*. 

Second. 

When  froft  thy  turnips  fixes  in  the  ground, 
And  hungry  flocks  for  food  ftand  bleating  round, 
Let  ftunly  ycvnhs  their  pointed  peckers  ply, 
Till  the  rais'd  roots  loofe  on  the  furface  lie. 


Hay  is  ufually  cut  'with  an  oblong  triangular 
urr.tnt,  culled  u  Cutting-knife. 


POEMS. 


745 


Third. 

When  ftormy  days  conftrain  to  quit  the  field, 
The  houfe  or  barn  may  ufeful  bufinefs  yield  ; 
There  ciooked  fnaths*  of  riexile  Callow  make, 
Or  of  tough  alh  the  ibrk-ftale  and  the  rake. 

FirjL 

Fnll  many  a  chance  defeats  the  farmer's  pains, 
Full  many  a  lofs  diminiflies  his  gains; 
Wet  fpoils  the  leed,  or  frofts  its  growth  o'erpower, 
Beaits  break  the  {talk,  and  birds  the  grain  de 
vour. 

Second. 
While  plenteous  crops  reward   thy    toil  and 

care, 

Thy  liberal  aid  may  age  and  (icknefs  fliarc  ! 
Is'or  let  the  widow'd  cottager  deplore 
Her  iirelefs  hearth,  her  cupboard's  fcanty  {tore. 

'Third. 

The  haughty  lord,  whom  luft  of  gain  infpires, 
From  man  and  bead  exceffive  toil  requires: 
The  generous  mafter  views  with  pitying  eyes 
Their  lot  fevere,  and  food  and  relt  fupplies. 

Flr/l. 

Amid  Achaia's  ftreamy  vales  of  old, 
Of  Works  and  Days  th'  Afcrean  paftor  told ; 


afcytbtf 


Snath  t  is  the  technical  term  for  the  handle  of 


Around  him,  curious,  came  the  ruftic  throng, 
And  wond'ring  liften'd  to  th'  informing  long. 

Second. 

Where  fam'd  Anapus'  limpid  waters  ftray, 
Sicilia's  poet  tun'd  his  Doric  lay ; 
While  o'er  his  head  the  pine's  dark  foliage  hung, 
And  at  his  feet  the  bubbling  fountain  i'prung. 

Third. 

The  Latian  Maro  fung,  where  Mincio's  ftream 
Through  groves  of  ilex  caft  a  filvery  gleam  ; 
While  down  green  vallies  ttray'd  his  fleec^y  flocks, 
Or  flept  in  fliadow  of  the  moify  rocks. 

Firft. 

Fair  fame  to  him,  the  bard  vvhofe  fong  difplayg 
Of  rural  arts  the  knowledge  and  the  praife  ; 
Rich  as  the  field  with  ripen'd  harveft  white— 
A  fcene  of  pront  mingled  with  delight ! 

Second. 

As  dewy  cherries  to  the  tafte  in  June, 
As  fliady  lanes  to  travellers  at  noon, 
To  me  fo  welcome  is  the  fhepherd's  flrain; 
To  kindred  fpirits  never  fung  in  vain  ! 

Third. 

While  lindens  fweet  and  fpiky  chefnuts  blow. 
While  beech  bears  maft,  on  oaks  while  acorn? 

grow; 

o  long  fiiail  laft  the  fhepherd's  tuneful  rhyme, 
And  pleafe  in  every  age  and  every  clime '. 


ORIENTAL    ECLOGUES. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  Oriental  Eclogues  of  Collins  have  fuch  excellence,  that  it  ma-y  be  fuppofed  they  muft  preclude 
the  appearance  of  any  fubfequent  work  with  the  I'ame  title.  This  consideration  did  not  efcape  the 
author  of  the  following  poems ;  but  as  the  fcenery  and  fentiment  of  his  predeceflbr  were  totally  dif 
ferent  from  his  own,  he  thought  it  matter  of  little  confequence. 

This  kind  of  compofition  is,  in  general,  fubjee'r.  to  one  dit'advantage,  for  which  allowance  mould  be 
made.  He,  who  defcribes  what  he  has  feen,  may  defcribe  correctly :  he,  who  defcribes  what  he  has 
not  feen,  muft  depend  for  much  on  the  accounts  of  others,  and  fupply  the  reft  from  his  own  imagi- 


fawn  that  plays  among  the  aromatic  flirubs. 
His  friends  endeavour  to  comfort  him;  but  he 
refufes  confolatibn  ;  he  declares  his  refolutioa 
of  viliting  his  beloved,  though  the  way  to  her 
tribe  lie  through  a  dreadful  wildernefs,  or  e- 
ven  through  a  den  of  lions." — The  author  of 
the  following  eclogue  was  Itruck  with  this  out 
line,  and  has  attempted  to  fill  it  up.     An  apo 
logy  for  expatiating  on  the  plealing  fubjefts  of 
love  and  beauty,  when  nothing  is  (aid  to  offend 
the  ear  of  chathty,  he  fuppofcs  needlefs.    If  any, 
however,  there  be,  who  queftion  the  uiility  of 
at  all  defcribing  thole  I'ubjedls ,   fuch  may  re 
member,  that  there  is  an  eattern  t>oem,  gene 
rally  elteemed  furred,  which  ab  unds  t  ith  the 
molt  ardent  expreflions  of  the  one,  and  luxuriant 
pictures  of  the  other. 


ZERA.D :  OR,  THE  ABSENT  LOVER. 

AN  ARABIAN  ECLOGUE. 

THE  learned  and  ingenious  Mr.  Jones,  in  his  cle» 
gant  and  judicious  effay  on  the  poetry  of  the 
Eaftern  Nations,  fpeaking  of  the  Arabians,  has 
the  following  pafTage:  "  It  fometimes  happens," 
fays  he,  "  that  the  young  men  of  one  tribe  are 
in  love  with  the  damfels  of  another;  and,  as 
the  tents  are  frequently  removed  on  a  fud- 
den,  the  lovers  are  often  feparated  in  the  pro- 
grefs  of  the  courtlhip.    Hence,  almoft  all  the 
Arabic  poems  opens  in  this  manner:  The  au 
thor  bewails  the  fudden  departure  of  his  mif- 
trefs,  Hinda,  Maia,  Zeineb,  or  ^zza,  and  de- 
"  fciibcs  her  beauty;  comparing  her  to  a  war.tun 


THE   WORKS    OF   SCOTT. 


KORASA'S  tribe,  a  frequent-wandering  train, 
From  Zenan's  pastures  fought  Negiran's  plain. 
With  them  Semira  left  her  favourite  ihades, 
The  lovelieft  nymph  of  Yemen's  fportive  maids  '. 
Her  parting  hand  her  fair  companions  prefs'd  ; 
A  tranfient  forrow  touch'd  each  tender  bread ; 
As  fome  thin  cloud  acrofs  the  morning  ray 
Calls  one  Ihort  moment's  gloom,  and  glides  away: 
Their  cares,  their  fports,  they  hafted  i'oon  to  tend, 
And  loft  in  them  the  memory  of  their  friend. 
But  gallant  Zerad  ill  her  abfence  bore, — 
A  wealthy  emir  from  Katara's  more  ; 
A  warrior  he,  the  braveft  of  his  race  ; 
A  bard  high-honour'd  in  his  native  place ; 
Age  oft  learn'd  knowledge  from  his  tuneful  tongue, 
And  liftening  beauty  languifh'd  while  he  lung. 
What  time  the  tribes  in  camp  contiguous  lay, 
Oft  with  the  fair-one  he  was  wont  to  Itray  ; 
There  oft  for  her  frefh  fruits    and    flow'rs   he 

fought, 

And  oft  her  flocks  to  cryftal  fountains  brought. 
Where  the  tall  palm-grove  grac'd  Alzobah's 

green, 

And  fable  tents  in  many  a  rank  were  feen  *  ; 
While  evening's  fteps  the  fetting  fun  purfu'd, 
And  the  (till  fields  heir  balmy  tears  bedew'd  ; 
The  penfive  lover,  there  reclin'd  apart, 
Indulg'd  the  forrows  of  his  anxious  heart. 
His  graceful  head  the  coftly  turban  dreft  ; 
The  crimfon  fafli  confin'd  his  azure  veft  ; 
His  hand  the  founding  arabeb  f  fuftain'd ; 
And  thus  his  voice  in  melody  complain'd — 
Soft  as  the  night-bird's  amorous  mufic  flows, 
In  Zibit's  gardens,  when  (he  woos  the  rofe  J  •• 
'  Bright  ftar  of  Sora's  fky,  whofe   matchlefs 

'  blaze 

4  Gilds  thy  proud  tribe  with  mild,  benignant  rays ! 
4  Sweet  flow'r  of  Azem's  vale,  whofe  matchiefs 

'  bloom 
'  O'er  thy  fam'd  houfe  fpreads  exquifite  perfume  ! 

*  Blithe  fawn  of  Kofa,  at  the  break  of  dawn, 
'Midft  groves  of  cailia,  fporting  on  the  lawn  ! 
Too  charming  beauty  !  why  muft  I  bemoan 

*  Thee  from  my  prefence  thus  abruptly  flown  ? 

*  Ere  the  fhrill  trump  to  march  the  fignal  gave, 

*  And  banners  high  in  air  began  to  wave  ; 

*  Ere  the  tall  camel  felt  his  wonted  load, 

'  And  herds  and  flocks  flow  mov'd  along  the  road ; 
4  Ere  flow  behind  them  march'd  the  warrior  train, 
'  And  the  ftruck  tents  left  vacant  all  the  plain; 
4  Could  no  fond  plea  obtain  a  longer  ftay  ; 
4  Would  no  kind  hand  th'  intelligence  convey  ? 

*  Ah,  haplefs  me  '.  to  Aden's  port  I  ftray'd, 

4  Sought  gold    and    gems,    but    loft   my   lovely 

'  maid  ! 

'  My  friends,  they  come  my  forrows  to  allay — 
'  Axor  the  wife,  and  Soliman  the  gay — 
4  One  cries,  "  Let  reafon  hold  her  fober  reign, 
"  Nor  love's  light  trifles  give  thy  bofom  pain  ! 

*  The  Arabian  tents  are  black.  Vide  Canti 
cles,  i.  5. 

\  Arabebbak,  an  Arabian  and  Maori/b  in/lru- 
ment  of  mufic .  Vide  Shaw's  Travels,  and  Ruifell's 
Hiltory  of  Aleppo. 

J  Alluding  to  an  Eajlern fable  of  the  NigbtingaL 
courting  the  Rofe, 


<  For  thee  kind  fciepce  all  her  lore  difplays, 
'  And  fame  awaits  thee  with  the  wreath  of  praife." 
'  O  why,"  cries  one,  "  is  (he  alone  thy  care  ? 
'  She's  fair,  indeed,  but  other  iruids  are  fair  : 
4  Negima's  eyes  with  dazzling  luflrc  fhine, 
'  And  her  black  creffes  curl  like  Zebid's  vine  ; 
'  On  Hinda's  brow  Kufliemon's  lily  blows, 
'  And  on  her  cheek  unfolds  Nifhapor's  rofe ! 
'  With  them  the  tale,  the  fong,  the  dance,  fhall 
"  pleafe,  [eafe." 

'  When  mirth's  free  banquet  fills  the  bow'r  of 

Ah  ceafe,'  faid  I ;  '  of  love  he  little  knows, 
;  Who  with  fage  counfel  hopes  to  cure  its  woes ! 

Go,  bid  in  air  Yamama's  lightnings  ftay, 

•  Or  Perath's  lion  quit  his  trembling  prey. 

:  Kind  fcience'  lore  with  beauty  beft  we  lhare, 
;  And  beauty's  hands  fame's  faireft  wreaths  pre- 

'  pare. 

1  I  praife  Negima's  lovely  hair  and  eyes ; 
;  Nor  Hinda's  lily,  nor  her  rofe  defpife; 
:  But  Omman's  pearls  diffufs  a  brighter  beam 
'  Than  the  gay  pebbles  of  Kalafa's  ftream.— 

'  O  lov'd  Semira  !  whither  doft  thou  rove  ? 
:  Tread  thy  foft  fteps  by  Sada's  jaff'mine  grove  ? 
1  Doft  thou  thy  flocks  on  Ocah's  mountain  keep  ? 
'  Do  Ared's  olives  whifper  o'er  thy  fleep  ? — 
1  Ah  no ! the  maid,   perhaps,    remote   from 

'  thefe, 

'  Some  hoftile  troop,  in  ambum  laid,  may  feize : 
'  Too  lovely  captive  !  fhe,  in  triumph  borne, 
1  The  proud  Pacha's  throng'd  haram  ftiall  adorn. 
'  Vain  fear  !  around  her  march  her  valiant  friends; 
1  Brave  Omar's  hand  the  bow  of  Iflimael  bends ; 
1  Strong  HafTan's  arm  Kaaba's  fpear  can  wield, 
'  And  rear  on  high  El-makin's  ponderous  ihield  ! 
1  Ah,   fhame  to  me !   Shall  floth's  diflionouring 

chain 

'  From  love,  from  glory,  Zerad  here  detain, 
'  Till  grief  my  cheek  with  fickly  faffron  fpread, 
'  And  my  eyes,  weeping,  match  th*  Argavan's 

'  red  *  ? 
'  Hafte,  bring  my  fteed,  fupreme  in  ilrength  and 

grace, 

c  Firft  in  the  fight,  and  fleeted  in  the  chafe ; 
'  His  fire  rcnown'd  on  Gebel's  hills  was  bred, 
'  His  beauteous  dam  in  Derar's  paftures  fed  : 
'  Bring  my  ftrong-  lance  that,  ne'er  impell'd  in  vain, 
'  Picrc'd  the  fierce  tyger  on  Hegefa's  plain. 
'  Acrofs  the  defert  I  her  fteps  purfue ; 
'  Toil  at  my  fide,  and  danger  in  my  view  ! 
'  There  thirft,  fell  demon,  haunts  the  fultry  air, 
'  And  his  wild  eyeballs  roll  with  horrid  glare  ; 
'  Their  deadly  Sumiul  f,  ftriding  o'er  the  land, 
'  Sweeps  his  red  wing,  and  whirls  the  burning 

'  fand  ; 
'   As  winds  the  weary  caravan  aloii£, 

*  The  fiery  ftorm  involves  the  haplels  throng, 
'  1  g°>  I  g°>  nor  to'l  nor  danger  heed  ; 

'  The  faithful  lover  fafety's  hand  ihall  lead. 

*  D'tttr&lbt  inform;  us,  that  faffron  faces,  and  ar- 
gavan  fyes,  are  exjircjjions  commonly  ufed  in  the  eft/},  to 
defcribe  pafflonatt;  lovers,  ivbofd  melancholy  appears  in 
their  countenances,  andicbofe  eyes  became  rcdivith  ivc.'p- 
inr.  The  nrgai'an  i;  fuppnfed  to  be  the  arbor  J:ni<£  ', 
'ivbofe  bloffoms  are  of  a  bright  purple.  Vide  Manner's 
Commentary  on  Solomon's  Song,  p.  161. 

•J"  Sum::!,  the  fury  bl.rjtja-r  tvind  nf  the  defert. 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES. 


747 


*  The  heart  that  fofters  virtue's  generous  flames, 
'  Our  holy  prophet's  fure  protection  claims. 

'  Delightful  Irem  *  ('midit  the  lonely  wafte, 
c  By  Shedad's  hand  the  paradife  was  plac'd), 
'  Plach  fhady  tree  ofva-ied  foliage  fhows, 
'  And  every  flower  and  every  fruit  beftows; 
'  There  drop  rich  gums  of  every  high  perfume ; 
'  There  fing  fweet  birds  of  every  gaudy  plume ; 
'  There   i'oit-ey'd   Houries  tread    th'    enameli'd 

'  green— 

'  Once,  and  no  more,  the  happy  feat  was  feen ; 
'  As  his  ftray'd  camel  'midtl  the  wild  he  fought, 
'  Chance  to  the  fpot  the  wandering  Effar  brought; 
'  A  blifst'ul  Irem,  'midit  the  defert  drear, 
«  Semira's  tent  my  love-fick  fight  (hall  cheer. 

«  What  palm  of  beauty  tow'rson  Keran's  hills? 
'  What  mynh  with  fragrance  Sala's  valley  fills? 
'  'Tis  fhe,  who  left  Ib  late  her  favourite  fhades, 
.*  The  lovelieft  nymph  of  Yemen's  fportive  maids! 
'  Look  from  thy  tent,  the  curtains  fair  unfold, 
'  Give  to  my  view  thy  veil  of  {ilk  and  gold ; 
'  O  lift  that  veil !  thy  radiant  eyes  difplay — 
'  Thofe  radiant  eyes  fhall  light  me  on  tny  way ! 
'  On  Hejar's  wild  rocks  from  the  Perfian  main, 
'  Thus  the  moon  riling  lights  the  wilder'd  fwain. 

*  O  raife  thy  voice  !  the  found  fhall  give  delight, 
'  Like  fongs  of  pilgrims  diftant  heard  by  night ! 

*  I  come,  I  come !' He  fpoke,  and  feiz'd  the 

rein, 
And  his  fleet  courfer  fpurn'd  the  fandy  plain. 

SERIM; 

OR,    THE  ARTIFICIAL  FAMINE. 

Aii  Eaji  Indian  Eclogue. 

THE  following  account  of  Britifh  conduct,  and  its 
confequences,  in  Bengal  and  the  adjacent  pro 
vinces,  fome  years  ago,  will  afford  a  fuff.cient 
idea  of  the  fubject  of  the  following  eclogue. 
After  defcribing  the  monopoly  of  fait,  betel- 
nut,  and  tobacco,  the  hiftorian  thus  proceeds : 
'  Money,  in  this  current,  came  but  by  drops; 
'  it  could  riot  quench  the  thirft  of  thofe  who 
'  waited  in  India  to  receive  it.  An  expedient 
'  fuch  as  it  was,  remained  to  quicken  its  pace.— 
'  The  natives  could  live  with  little  fait,  but  not 
'  without  food.  Some  of  the  agents  faw  them- 
'  felves  well  fituated  for  collecting  the  rice  into 
'  ftores;  they  did  fo.  They  knew  the  Gcntoos 
'  would  rather  die,  than  violate  the  precepts  of 
"  their  religion  by  eating  flefn.  The  alterna 
tive  would  therefore  be,  between  giving  what 
they  had,  and  dying.  The  inhabitants  funk  ; 
they  that  cultivated  the  land,  and  faw  the 
harveft  at  the  difpofol  of  others,  planted  in 
doubt — fcarcity  enfued — then  the  monopoly 
was  eafier  managed.  The  people  took  to  roots, 
"  and  food  they  had  been  unaccuflomed  to  eat. 
*'  Sicknefs  enfued.  In  fome  diftricts,  the  languid 

*  <c  Maliommed  in  bis  Alcoran,  in  the  Chapter  of  ike 
Morning,  mentions  a  garden  called  Irem,  "which  is  no 
lefs  celebrated  by  tie  Ajialic  poets,  than  that  of  the  Hef- 
ferides  by  the  Greeks.  It  ivas  planted,  as  the  commen 
tators  fay,  l/y  a  king,  named  She  dad  ;  and  ivas  once  feen 
by  an  Arabian,  ivho  ivandered  ff.r  into  the  defert,  in 

Jcarch  of  a  I  of  camel"   Jones's  EiTay  on  the  Poetry 
iii  the  Eaftern  Nations. 


"  living  left  the  bodies  of  their  numerous  dead 
"  unburied."  Short  Hiftory  of  Englijb  Tran.- 
faftions  in  the  Eujl  Indies,  p.  145. 
The  above  quotation  iufficiently  proves,  that  the 
general  plan  of  the  following  poem  is  founded 
on  fail:.  And  even  with  regard  to  its  particular 
incidents,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  but  that, 
among  the  varied  miferies  of  millions,  every 
pidture  of  diflrcls  which  the  author  has  drawn, 
had  its  original. 

1  O  GUARDIAN  genius  of  this  facred  wave  *  ! 
'  O  fave  thy  Ions,  if  thine  the  power  to  fave  !' 
So  Serim  fpoke,  as  fad  on  Ganges'  fhore 
He  fat,  his  country's  miferies  to  deplore— 
4  O  guardian  genius  of  this  facred  wave  ! 
'  O  fave  thy  fons,  if  thine  the  power  to  fave  ! 
'  From  Agra's  tow'rs  to  Muxadabat'sf  walls, 
'  On  thee  for  aid  the  fuffering  Hindoo  calls  : 
'  Europe's  fell  race  controul  the  wide  domain, 
'  Engrofs  the  harveft,  and  enflavc  the  fwain. 
'  Why  rife  thefe  cumbrous  piles  along  thy  tide  ? 
'  They  hold  the  plenty  to  our  prayers  deny'd  ! 
'  Guards  at  their  gates  perpetual  watch  maintain, 
'  Where  want  in  anguifh  craves  relief  in  vain. 
"  Bring  gold,  bring  gems,"  the  infatiate  plunder 

ers  cry  ;  [die." 

"  Who  hoards  his  wealth,  by  hunger's  rage  fhall 
'  Ye  fiends!  yc've  ravifh-'d  all  our  little  ftore; 
'  Ye  fee  we  perifh,  yet  ye  aik  for  more  ! 
'  Go  ye  yourfelves,  and  fearch  for  gold  the  mine; 
'  Go,  dive  where  pearls  beneath  the  ocean  fhine  ! 
'  What  right  have  ye  to  plague  our  peaceful  lapd? 
c  No  fhips  of  ours  e'er  fought  your  weftern  ftrand  : 
'  Ne'er  from  your  fields  we  fnatch'd  their  crops 

away, 

'  Nor  made  your  daughters,  or  your  fons  our  prey. 
'  Not  ev'n  in  thought  we  quit  our  native  place— 
'  A  calm,  contented,  inoffenfive  race  ! 
'  By  avarice  led,  ye  range  remoteft  climes, 
'  And  every  nation  execrates  your  crimes. 

'•  When  Timur's  houfe   J  renown'd  ia  Delhi 

'  reign'd, 

'  Diftrefs,  affiftance  unimplor'd  obtain'd  : 
'  When  famine  o'er  the  afflicted  region  frown'd, 
'  And  ficknefs  languifh'd  on  the  barren  ground, 
'  The  Imperial  granaries  wide  difplay  'd  their  doors, 
'  And  fhips  provifion  brought  from  diftantfhores  ;  , 


The  Hindoos  tvorjaip  a  god  or  genius  of  the 


f  Muxadabat,  or  Mcrjledabat,  a  large  city  of  India, 
about  tivo  hundred  miles  above  Calcutta.  The  name  is 
commonly  pronounced  ivith  the  accent  on  the  lajl  fyllable  f 
Muxadabtt.  I  ha-ve  taken  the  liberty  to  accommodate  tbit^ 
and  foihe  fe^v  other  ivords,  to  my  tierfe,  by  altering  the  ac 
centuation;  a  matter,  I  affrebe  nd,  of  little  confeq  uence  t» 
the  Engiijb  reader. 

\  fhe  famous  Mahometan  tyrant,  Auranzcbe,  during 
a  famine  "which  prevailed  in  different  parts  of  India,  ex 
erted  bimfelfio  alleviate  the  dijtrefs  of  his  fubjeSts.  "  He 
remitted  the  taxes  that  -were  due  ;  be  employed  thrfe  a£-> 
ready  collected  in  the  purcliafe  of  corn,  ivhicb  ivas  diftri- 
buted  among  the  poorer  fort.  He  even  expended  immenfe 
fums  out  of  the  treasury,  in  conveying  grain,  by  land  and 
•water,  into  the  interior  provinces,  from  Bengal,  and  the 
countries  -which  lie  on  the  five  branch;:  of  tk:  Indus  ." 
Dow'slndoftan,  vol.  iii.  p.  340. 

4 


4*7 


THE   WORKS   OF  SCOTT. 


'  The  hden  camels  crowded  Kurah's  vales, 
»  From  Colgo:i's  cliffs  they  hail'd  the  coming  fails. 
«  But  ye!— even  now,  while  fav'ring  feu.jni  fmile, 
'  And  the  rich  glebe  would  reconipeiife  our  toil, 
'  Dearth  and  ,difeafe  to  you  alone  we  owe  ; 
»  Ye  caule  the  mii'dyef,  and  enjoy  the  woe  ! 
4  This  beauteous  clime,  but  late,  what  plenty 

<  bleft  ! 

«  What  days  of  pleafure,  and  what  nights  of  reft  ! 
'  From  Gola's   llreets,  -faiu'd  mart  of    fragrant 

'  grain ! 

*  Trade's  cheerful  voke  refounded  o'er  the  plain ; 

*  There  now  fad  filence  uftens  to  the  waves, 

«  That  break  in  mu:n:i:rs  round  the  rocky  caves. 
f  Sweet  were  the  foi-gs  o'er  Jumal's  level  borne, 
'  While  bufy  thoufer.ds  throng'd  to  plant  the  corn  j 

*  Now  tenfold  tax  tlie  farmer  i'orc'd  to  yield, 
4  Defpairs,  and  leaves  unoccupied  the  field. 

«  Sweet  were  the  fongs  of  Burdwan's  mulberry 

'  grove, 

«  While  the  rich  filk  the  rapid  fhuttle  wove  ; 
«  Now  from  the  loom  our  coftly  veftmeuts  torn, 
«  Th'  infulting  robbers  meaneft  flaves  adorn. 
'  In  Malda's  ihades,  on  Puma's  palmy  plain, 
'  The  haplefs  artifts,  urg'd  to  toil  in  vain, 

*  Quit  their  fad  homes,  and  mourn  along  the  land, 
'  A  penfive,  pallid,  felf-difabled  band  *  ! — 

'  The  year  revolves'—"  Bring  choiceft  fruits  and 

"  flowers, 

"  Spread  wide  the  board  in  confecrated  bowers ; 
"  Bring  joy,  bring  fport,  the  fong,  the  dance  pre- 

'  pare!  [mare !" 

«  'Tis  Drugah's  f  feaft,  and  all  cur  friends  muft 

<  The  year  revolves— nor  fruits  nor  flowers  are 

«  feen; 

«  Nor  feftive  board  in  bowers  of  holy  green ; 
'  Nor  joy,  nor  fport,  nor  dance,  nor  tuneful  ftrain: 

<  'Tis  Drugah's  feaft — tut  grief  and  terror  reign. 
'  Yet  there,  ingrate  !  oft  welcome  guefts  ye  came, 

*  And  talk'd  of  honour's  laws  ay.d  friendihip's 

<  flame. 

«  The  year  revolves— and  Bifhen's  J  faft  invites, 
«  On  Ganges'  marge  to  pay  the  folemn  rites ; 

*  "  Tbofe  tuba  now  mad:  the  things  t'ae  J^ngUJh  moft 
it-anted,  ivere  prejjed  on  all  fides*— by  their  o-wn  necejji- 
ties,  tbtir  neighbours ,  and  the  agents  employed  to  procure 
the  Company's  in-urjlments,as  the  goods  fent  to  Europe  are 
called.  Tbtfe  importunities  lucre  united,  and  urged  fo 
much,  fa  often,  andinfutbivays,  as  to  produce,  among 
ibe  people  in  ihejtlk  btijinefs,  injlanccs  of  their  cutting  off" 
tbeir  thumbs,  that  the  iuj.nt  of  tbem  might  cxtafe  them 
J~roinfollo-w:>ig  their  trade,  and  the  inconveniences  to  -which 
tbey  ivere  expcfed  beyond  the  utxmon  lot  of  their  neigh- 
tours."  Hiftory  of  the  Englifh  Tranfaclions  in  the 
Eafl  Indies. 

f  Drugab,  a  HinJoo  goddrfs.  "  Drugab  Poojab  is  the 
grand  general  fi-njl  of  tb:  Geatoos,  ufually  -vifited  by  all 
Europeans  (uy  invitation},  luho  are  treated  by  the  pro-* 
fritters  of  the  feajl  ivit/j  ibe  fruits  and  jloivers  infia- 
J»n,  and  are  entertained  every  evening  -with  bands  ofjiug- 
trs  and  dancers."  Vide  Howell's  Indoftan,  vol.  ii. 

%  Bijken,  £i/l;ie3,  or  'Jaggernaut,  is  we  of  the  princi 
pal  Hindoo  deities.  "  Tbisfaji,  dedicated  to  him,  is  catt- 
tdtbe  Sinan  Jattra,  or  general  ivajbing  in  the  Ganges  : 
mnd  it  is  almojl  incredible  to  think  the  imatenfe  etultitude, 
•f  every  ags  and  fix,  tbat  appears  on  both  fides  of  the 
river,  throughout  its  -whole  courfe,  at  one  and  the  fame 

time."    Vide  Mr.  Howell,  vol.  ii.  p.  124. 138. 


All,  boons  of  Biflien,  great  preferver,  crave ; 
All  in  the  facred  flood  their  bodies  luve  : 
No  more,  alas  ! — the  multitude  no  more 
Bathe  in  the  tide,  or  kneel  upon  the  (bore; 
No  more  from  towns  and  villages  they  throng, 
Wide  o'er  the  fields,  the  public  paths  along  : 
Sad  on  our  ways,  by  human  foot  unworn, 
Stalks  the  dim  form  of  folitude  forlorn  :— 
I'rom  Ava's  mountains  morn's  bright  eyes  furvey 
l''air  Ganges'  flreams  in  many  a  winding  llray ; 
There  fleecy  flocks  on  many  an  ifiand  feed; 
There  herds  urmumber'd  pafture  many  a  mead ; 
(While  noxious  herbs  our  laft  refource  fupply, 
And,  dearth  efcaping,  by  difeafc  we  die) ;' 
Take  thefe,"  ye  cry,  ';  nor  more  for  food  com- 
"  plain;  [flain !" 

Take  thefe,  and  flay  like  us,  and  riot  on  the 
Ah  no!  our  law  the  crime  abhorr'd  withflands; 
We  die — but  blood  fhall  ne'er  pollute  our  hands. 
O  guardian  genius  of  this  facred  wave, 
Save,  fave  thy  fons,  if  thine  the  power  to  fave  ! ' 
So  Serim  fpoke— while  by  the  moon's  pale  beam, 
The  frequent  corfe  came  floatingdown  thefkeam*. 
He  figh'd,  and  rifing  turn'd  his  Heps  to  rove 
Where  wav'd  o'er  Nizim's  vale  'the  cocoa-grove  ; 
There,  'midft  fcorch'd  ruins,  one  lone  loof  re- 

inain'd, 

And  one  forlorn  inhabitant  contain'd. 
The  found  of  feet  he  near  his  threfliold  heard  ; 
Slow  from  the  ground  his  languid  limbs  he  rear'd : 
'  Come,  tyrant  come  !  perform  a  generous  part, 
'  Lift  thy  keen  fteel,  and  pierce  this  fainting  heart  I 
'  Com 'ft  thou  for  gold  ?  my  gold,  alas,  I  gave, 
'  My  darling  daughter  in  diftrefs  to  fave! 
'  1  hy  faithlcfs  brethren  took  the  fhining  {lore, 
'  Then  from  my  arms  the  trembling  virgin  tore  1 
'  Three  days,  three  nights,  I've  languiih'd  here 

'  alone— 
.'  Three  foodlefs  days,  three  nights  to  fleep  un« 

'  known ! 

'  Come,  tyrant  come !  perform  a  generous  part, 
'  Lift  thy  keen  fteel,  and  pierce  this  fainting  heartl* 

'•  No  hoftile  fteps  the  haunt  of  v.-oe  invade,'" 
Serim  replied — and,  pafling  where  the  glade 
A  length  of  profpedl  down  the  vale  difplay'd, 
Another  fight  of  mifery  met  his  view ; 
Another  mournful  voice  his  notice  drew  ! 
There,  near  a  temple's  recent  ruin,  ftood 
A  white-rob'd  Bramin  by  the  facred  flood : 
His  wives,  his  children,  dead  befide  him  lay—. 
Of  hunger  thefe,  and  thofe  of  grief  the  prey  ' 
Thrice  he  with  duftdcfil'd  his  aged  head; 
Thrice  o'er  the  ftream  his  hands  up/ifted  fpread  : 
Hear,  all  ye  powers  to  whom  we  bend  in  prayer ! 
Hear,  all  who  rule  o'er  water,  earth,  and  air  '. 
'Tis  not  for  them,  though  lifelefs  there  they  lie ; 
'  'Tis  not  for  me,  though  innocent  I  die  :— 
'  My  country's  breaft  the  tyger,  avarice,  rends, 
«  And  loud  to  you  her  parting  groan  afcends. 
Hear,  all  ye  powers  to  whom  we  bend  in  prayer! 
Hear,  all  who  rule  o'er  water,  earth,  and  air ! 
Hear  and  avenge  !.  .  [fphere, 

'  But  hark !  what  voice  from  yonder   fiarry 
Slides  like  the  breeze  of  evening  o'er  my  ear  I 

*  Tie  Hindoos  frequently  cajl  ibe  bodies  of  tbeir  de- 
ceafed  into  the  Ganges  ;  ivitb  tbz  idea,  Ifuppofe,  of  cotx- 
itting  them  to  the  diffofal  of  the  gcdcr  genius  of  the  ri-. 
Vtr. 


ORIENTAL   ECLOGUES. 


749 


1  Lo,  Birmah's  *  form!  on  amber  clouds  enthron'd; 
(  His  azure  robe  with  lucid  emerald  zon  d; 

*  He  looks  celefli.il  dignity  and  grace, 

*  And  vi'.ws  with  pity  wretched  human  race  !' 

'  "'Forbear,  rafh  man!  nor  curfe  thy  country'. 

"  foes; 

"  Frail  man  to  man  forgivenefs  ever  owes. 
"  When  Aloifafoor  f  tlie  fell  on  earth's  fair  plai" 
"  Brought  his  deteited  offspring,  ftrife  and  pain , 
"  Revenge  with  them,  relentlefs  fury,  came, 
"  Her  bolbm  burning  with  infernal  flame ! 
"  Her  hair  fhcds  horror,  like  the  comet's  blaze ; 
"  Her  eyes,  all  ghaftly,  blaft  where'er  they  gaze ; 
"  Her  lifted  arm  a  poiibn'd  crice  J  fuftains; 
"  Her  garments  drop  with  blood  of  kindred  veins! 
"  Who  a(ks  her  aid,  muft  own  her  endlefs  reign, 
"  Feel  her  keen  fcourge,  and  drag  her  galling 

"  chain  !'* 

'  The  ftrains  fublime  in  fweeteft  mufic  clofe, 
'  And  all  the  tumult  of  my  foul  compofe. 
'  Yet  you,  ye  oppreffors !  uninvok'don  you  [|, 
'  Your  fteps  the  fteps  of  juftice  will  purfue  ! 

*  Go,  fpread  your  white  fails  on  the  azure  main ; 
c  Fraught  with  our  fpoils,  your  native  land  regain; 
'  Go,  plant  the  grove,  and  bid  the  lake  expand, 

*  And  on  green  hills  the  pompous  palace  ftand: 
'  Let  luxury's  hand  adorn  the  gaudy  room, 

'  Smooth  the  foft  couch,  and  ihed  the  rich  per- 
'  fume—  [vite, 

'  There  night's  kind  calm  in  vain  fhall  fleep  in- 
1  While  fancied  omens  warn,  and  fpedlres  fright ; 
'  Sad  founds  fhull  iffue  from  your  guilty  walls, 
'  The  widow'd  wife's,  the  fonlefs  mother's  calls; 
'  And  infant  Rajahs'  bleeding  forms  fhall  rife, 

*  And  lift  to  you  their  fupplicating  eyes : 

'  Remorfe  intolerable  your  hearts  will  feel, 
'  And  your  own  hands  plunge  deep  the  avenging 
'  fteel§.  [dain, 

*  (For  Europe's  cowards  Heaven's  command  dif- 

*  To  death's  cold  arms  they  fly  for  eafe  in  vain.) 
'  For  us,  each  painful  tranfmignuion  o'er, 

1  Sweet  fields  receive  us  to  refign  no  more ; 

*  Where  fafety's  fence  for  ever  round  us  grows, 

'  And  peace,  fair  flower,  with  bloom  unfading 
«  blows; 

*  BirmaJj  is  a  principal  deity  of  the  Hindoos,  in  tt'lrfe 
ftrfon  they  •worjlip  the  Divine  Attrlhtite  of  IVifdoni. 
From  the  iejl  accounts  ivc  have  of  India,  the  intelligent 
part  of  the  natives  da  not  tvorjhip  "  (locks  and  JJonfs," 
merely  as  fuch :  but  rather  the  S'tpreme  Exijtence,  in  a 
•variety  of  attributes  or  matnfejlations. 

f   The  Hindoo  author  of  evil,fimuar  to  our  Satan. 

\  An  Indian  dagger. 

\\  The  reader  mujl  readily  perceive  the  propriety  of 
this  turn  of  thought  in  a  poem  deftgned  to  baite  a  moral 
ifiidency.  There  is  mutb  difference  between  a  perfon 
ivijbing  ei'il  to  bis  runny,  and  fri-faging  that  evil  ivill 
if  the  conftqttence  nf  that  enemy's  crimes.  ThefJrJJ  is 
an  immoral  afi  of  the  ivill ;  thefecond,  a  neutral  a£i  cf 
the  judgment. 

§  The  Hindoo  religion  Jlrongly  prohibits  filicide.  Mr 
Hoivell  gives  us  the  following  pajfii^e  from  the  Sha- 
jlab  :  "  JVbofoever  of  the  delinquent  Deutah  fintt  (•'*!>•„• 
"  to  free  bhafc'f  frnm  tie  mortal  farm  ii'lterctuitb  j 
"  Jball  enclnf-  him,  then  Sielt  fault  plunge  Litn  into  th, 
"  Onderah  fi>r  ever  :  he  Jball  not  again  have  tie  iene- 
"  fa  °f  ti-''fflt™  Jje&cons  of  purgation,  'inbatien,  and 


'  Light's  fun  untetting  fliines  with  cheering  oeam; 
And  pleafure's  river  rolls  its  golden  flream !' 
Xn.-apt  he  fpoke — then  ceas'd  the  lofty  ftrain, 
Vnd  Orel's  rocks  return'd  the  found  again.— 
\  Britifh  ruffian,  near  in  ambufh  laid, 
iliifh'd  fudden  from  the  cane-ifle's  fecret  fhade  ; 

Go  to  thy  gods  !'  with  rage  infernal  cried, 
And  headlong  plung'd  the  haplefs  fage  into  the 
foaming  tide. 

LI-PO ; 

OR,  THE  GOOD  GOVERNOK. 

A  Chinefc  Eclogue. 

THOSE  who  are  converfant  in  thebc^l  accounts  of 
China,  particularly  Du  Halde's  Hiflory,  mufl 
have  remarked,  that  the  Chinefe  government, 
though  arbitrary,  is  well  regulated  and  mild; 
and  that  a  prince  in  that  country  can  acquire 
no  glory,  but  by  attention  to  the  welfare  of  his 
fabjeifls.  On  this  general  idea  is  founded  the 
plan  of  the  following  poem. 

WHERE  Honan's  hills  Kianfi's  vale  enclofe, 
And  Xifa's  lake  its  glaffy  level  fhows, 
Li-po's  fair  ifland  lay— delightful  fcene  !— 
W  ith  fwelling  Copes,  and  groves  of  every  green : 
On  azure  rocks  his  rich  pavilion  plac'd, 
Rear'd  its  light  front  v/ith  golden  columns  grac'd; 
High  o'er  the  roof  a  weeping  willow  hung, 
And  jafmine  boughs  the  lattice  twin'd  among; 
In  porcelain  vafes  crefied  amaranth  grew, 
And  ftarry  after,  crimfon,  white,  and  blue ; 
Lien-hoa  flowers  upon  the  water  fpread ; 
Bright  fhells  and  corals  varied  luftre  fhed ; 
From  fpacry  grottos  cryflal  drops  diftill'd 
On  founding  brafs,  and  air  with  mufic  fill'd ; 
Soft  through  the  bending  canes  the  breezes  play'd, 
The  ruflling  leaves  continual  murmur  made ; 
Gay  fhoals  cf  gold-fifh  glitter'd  in  the  tide, 
And  gaudy  birds  flew  fportivc  by  its  fide. 
The  diftant  profpe&s  well  the  fight  might  pleafe. 
With  pointed  mountains,  and  romantic  trees: 
From  craggy  cliffs,  between  the  verdant  fhades, 
The  filver  rills  ridh'd  down  in  bright  cafcades ; 
O'er  terrac'd  fteeps  rich  cotton  harvefb  *  wav'd. 
And  fmooth  canah  the  rice-clad  valley  'lav'd  j 
Long  rows  of  cyprefs  f  parted  all  the  land, 
And  tall  pagodas  crown'd  the  river's  ftrand ! 

'Twas  here,  from  bufmefs  and  its  pomp  and  pair, 
The  penfive  matter  fought  relief  in  vain. 
Li-po,  mild  prince,  a  viceroy's  fceptre  fway'd, 
And  ten  fair  towns  his  gentle  rule  obey'd : 
The  morn's  tranfaclions  to  his  memory  came, 
And  fome  he  found  to  praife,  and  fome  to  blame; 
Mark'd  here  how  juftice,  pity  there  prevail'd, 
And  how  from  hafte  or  indolence  he  fail'd. 

Beneath  a  bower  ef  fweet  ka-fa,  whofe  bloom 
Fill'd  all  the  adjacent  lawn  with  rich  perfume, 

*  The  Cbinefe  reduce  tic  fccp  Jlopes  of  their  liih 
iitli  little  terraces,  on  -which  they  grow  cotton,  potatoet, 
l&c.  They  plant  the  edges  of  their  terraces  -U'ith  trees, 
ivlicb  keep  uj>  the  ground,  and  make  a  very  fine  appear- 
ance. 

•j-   TLeir  rice-ground's  are  feparatcd  by  tread  ditdiet, 
the  fides  of  which  are  j.ianted  -with  cyprtjjet, 
Olbcck'a  Veyage  to  China. 


75° 


THE    WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


His  flaves  at  diftarice  fat — a  beauteous  train  '— 
One  wak'd  the  lute,  and  one  the  vocal  ftrain  : 
They  faw  his  brow  with  care  all  clouded  o'er, 
And  wifh'd  to  eafe  th'  anxiety  he  bore. 
Amufive  tales  their  Toothing  lay  difclos'd, 
Of  heroes  brave  to  perils  llrange  expos'd; 
Of  tyrants  proud,  from  power's  high  fummit  caft; 
And  lovers,  long-  defponding,  blcft  at  laft. 
They  ceas'd;  the  warblings  foftly  died  a\vay, 
Like  zephyrs  ceafmg  at  the  cjofe  of  day. 
'  This  i'cene,'  faid  he,  ''how  fair!  to  pleafe  the 
'  fight, 

*  How  nature's  charms,  art's  ornaments  unite  ! 

'  Thofe  maids,  what  magic  in  the  ilrains  they 
'  fung !  [tongue. 

*  Song    fweetliefl    flows    from    beauty's   twietul 
'  Yet  fay,  did  Tien  bid  power  and  wealth  be  mine, 
'  For  me  my  foul  to  pleafure  to  rcfign  ? 

«  What  boots,  that  annual,  on  our  fathers'  tombs, 

*  We  flrew  fair  flowers,  and  offer  choice  perfumes; 
'  Our  veneration  of  their  memories  fliow, 

*  And  not  their  fteps  in  virtue's  path  purfue  ? 

*  When,  from  his  province  as  the  prince  returns, 

*  Rich  feafts  for  him  are  ipread,  and  incenfe  burns, 
c  And  gilded  barks  unfold  their  ftreamers  gay, 

'  And  following  crowds  their  loud  applaufes  pay; 
'  Avails  all  this,  if  he  from  right  has  fwerv'd, 
'  And  confcience  tells  him  all  is  undeferv'd  ? 
'  Arife,  Li-po !  'tis  duty  cal!«,  arife ! 

*  The  fun  finks  reddening  in  Tartarian  ikies. 

'  Yon  walls  that  tower  o'er  Xcnfi's  neighbouring 
'  plain, 

*  Yon  walls  unnumber'd  miferies  contain. 

«  Think,  why  did  Tien  fupcrior  rank  impart, 

*  Force  of  the  mind,  or  feelings  of  the  heart. 

«  Laft  night  in  fleep,  to  fancy's  fight  difplay'd, 

*  Lay  lovelier  fcenes  than  e'er  my  eyes  furvey'd  ; 

«  With  purple  flione  the  hills,  with  gold  the  vales, 
'  And  greeneft  foliage  wav'd  in  gentled  gales : 
'  'Midil  palmy  fields,  with  funftiine  ever  bright, 
«  A  palace  rear'd  its  walls  of  filvery  white  ; 


The  gates  of  pearl  a  fhady  hall  difclos'd, 
Where  old  Confucius'  rev' rend  form  repos'd: 
Loofeo'cr  his  limbs  the  filk's light  texture  flow'd. 
His  eye  ferenc  ethereal  luftre  ibow'd : 
My  ion,"  faid  he,  as  near  his  feat  I  drew, 
Caft  round  this  wonderous  fpot  thy  dazzled 

"  view; 

"  See  how,  by  lucid  founts  in  myrtle  bowers, 
"  The  bleii  inhabitants  confume  their  hours! 
"  They  ne'er  to  war,  fell  fiend  !  commiiTion  gave 
'•  To  muider,  raviih,  br.nifli,  and  enfiave;      [pile, 
"  They  ne'er  bade  grandeur  raife  her  gorgeous 
"  Wjth  tribute  ravifh'd  from  the  hand  of  toil ; 
"  But  parents,  guardians  of  the  people  reign'd, 
"  The  weak  defended,  and  the  poor  fuftain'd." 
'  Smiling  he  ceas'd — the  vifion  feem'd  to  fly, 
'  Like  fleecy  clouds  difperfing  in  the  iky. 

'  Arife,  Li-po  !  and  caft  thy  robes  afide, 
«  Difguife  thy  form,  thy  well-known  features  hide ; 
'  Go  forth,  yon  ibreets,  yon  crowded  ftreets  per- 
'  vade,  [aid: 

'  Mix  with  the  throng,  and  mark  who  feeks  thy 
'  There  avarice  ftern  o'er  poverty  bears  fway, 
'  And  age  and  ficknefs  fall  his  eafy  prey; 
c  There  hands  that  juftice'  facred  enfigns  bear, 
'  Protect  the  plunderer,  and  the  plunder  ihare  ; 
'  Perhaps  there  difcord's  defperate  rage  prevails, 
'  And  wifdom's  voice  to  calm  the  tumult  fails ; 
'  Perhaps  revenge  gives  victims  to  the  grave, 
'  Perhaps  they  periih,  ere-I  hafte  to  fave !' 

He  fpoke,  and  rofe  ;  but  now  along  the  way 
That  from  the  city-gate  fair-winding  lay, 
Stretch'd  through  green  meads  where  Idwing  cat 
tle  graz'd, 

Amid  the  lake's  wide  filver  level  rais'd, 
Led  up  ileep  rocks  by  painted  bridges  join'd, 
Or  near  thin  trees  that  o'er  the  tide  inclin'd, 
Slow  tow'rds  his  palace  came  a  fuppliant  train:— 
Whoe'er  his  prefence  fought  ne'er  fought  in  vain— 
The  ready  vefiel,  waiting  at  his  call, 
Receiv'd,  and  bore  him  to  the  audience-hall. 


ODES. 

THE  Horatian,  or  Lefler  Ode,  is  characterized  principally  by  eafe  and  correclnefe.  The  following 
little  pieces,  attempted  on  that  plan,  weie  the  produdipn  of  very  different  periods;  and,  on  revifa£ 
were  thought  not  undeferving  a  place  in  this  collection. 


ODE  I. 

TO  LEISURE. 


Icifure,  whom  of  yore 
To  wealth  the  fair  contentment  bore, 
When  peace  with  them  her  dwelling  made, 
And  health  her  kind  attendance  paid  ; 
As  wandering  o'er  the  funny  plains 
They  fed  their  herds  and  fleecy  trains:  — 
O  thou  !  who  country  fcenes  and  air 
Preferr'ft  to  courts,  and  crowds,  and  care  ; 
With  thee  I've  often  pafs'd  the  day, 
To  thee  I  wake  the  grateful  lay. 

With  thee  on  Chadwell's  thymy  brow  *, 
Beneath  die  hazel's  bending  bcugh, 

*  fbe  Nciv  River  Head,  near  Ware. 


I've  fat  to  breathe  the  fragrance  cool 

Exhaling  from  the  glaiTy  pool ; 

Where,  through  th'  unfullied  cryftal  feen,  . 

The  bottom  ihow'd  its  mining  green  : 

As  all  attentive  thefe  I  view'd, 

And  many  a  pleafing  thought  purfu'd, 

Whate'er  of  pleafure  they  beftow'd, 

Still  1  to  thee  that  pleafure  ow'd ! 

With  thee,  on  Mufsla's  f  corn-clad  height 
The  landfcape  oft  has  charm'd  my  fight; 
Delightful  hills,  and  vales,  and  woods, 
And  dufly  roads,  and  winding  floods ; 
And  towns,  that  through  thin  groups  of  ihade 
Their  roofs  of  varied  form  difplay'd; 

f  A  llll  or.  tie  norllftde  of  Ware.' 


ODES. 


As  all  attentive  thefe  I  vie'.v'd, 
And  many  a  pleafing  thought  purfu'd, 
Whate'er  of  plcafure  they  beftow'd, 
Still  I  to  thee  that  pleafure  u\v'd  '. 

With  thee,  where  Eafna's  *  horn-beam  grove 
Its  foliage  o'er  me  inttrwove, 
Along  the  lonely  path  I've  (tray'd, 
By  banks  in  hoary  mofs  array'd  ; 
Where  tufts  of  azure  orpine  grew, 
And  branchy  fern  of  brighter  hue  : 
As  all  attentive  thefe  I  view'd, 
And  many  a  pleafing  thought  purfu'd, 
Whate'er  of  pleafure  they  beftow'd, 
Still  I  to  thee  that  pleafure  ow'd! 

With  thee,  by  Stanfted's  f  farms  enclos'd, 
With  aged  elms  in  rows  difpos'd; 
Or  where  her  chapel's  walls  appear, 
The  filver  winding  river  near, 
Beneath  the  broad-leav'd  fycamore, 
I've  linger'd  on  the  (hady  fliore  : 
As  all  attentive  thefe  I  view'd, 
And  many  a  pleafing  thought  purfu'd, 
Whate'er  of  pleafure  they  beftow'd, 
.  Still  I  to  thee  that  pleafure  ow'd  ! 

With  thee,  where  Thames  his  waters  leads, 
Round  Poplar's  Ifle  f  of  verdant  meads, 
Along  the  undulating  tide, 
I've  feen  the  white-fail'd  veflels  glide  ; 
Or  gaz'd  on  London's  lofty  towers, 
OrDulwich  hills,  or  Greenwich  bowers: 
As  all  attentive  thefe  I  view'd, 
And  many  a  pleafing  thought  purfu'd, 
Whate'er  of  pleafure  they  beftow'd, 
Still  I  to  thee  that  pleafure  ow'd  ! 

O  gentle  leifure  !  —  abfent  long— 
I  woo  thee  with'this  tuneful  fong  : 
If  e'er,  allur'd  by  grateful  change, 
O'er  fcenes  yet  unbeheld  I  range, 
And  Albion's  eaft  or  weftern  more 
For  rural  folitudcs  explore  : 
As  all  attentive  thefe  I  view, 
And  many  a  pleafing  thought  purfue, 
Whate'er  of  pleafure  they  beftow, 
To  thee  that  pleafurc  1  muft  owe  ! 

ODE  II. 

THE   EVENING  WALK. 

WHAT  time  fair  fpring,  with  dewy  hand, 

Awakes  her  cowflip  bloom  ; 
And  hawthorn  boughs,  by  breezes  fann'd, 

DifFufe  a  rich  perfume  : 

Young  Theron  down  the  valley  ftray'd 

At  evening's  filent  hour, 
When  bright  the  fetting  funbeams  play'd 

On  Hertford's  diftant  tower. 

He  figh'd,  and  caft  around  his  eye 

O'er  all  the'  pleafing  fcene, 
Now  tow'rds  the  golden-clouded  flcy, 

Now  on  the  fields  of  green. 


wich, 


A  pleafani  ivood,  eajl  of  Ware. 

A  village  in  the  fame  neighbourhood. 

Commonly  called  The  IJle  of  Dog,  ofpojite  Green 


1  Thrice  has  fuir  fpring  her  cowflip  bloom 

'  Awak'd  with  dewy  hand, 
'  And  hawthorn  boughs  difFus'd  perfume, 

'  By  weftern  breezes  fann'd; 

c  Since  here,  at  evening's  filent  hour, 

'  Delighted  oft  I  ftray'd, 
'  While  bright  on  Hertford's  diftant  tower 

'  The  fetting  funbeams  play'd : 

'  'Twas  then  the  flatterer  hope  was  near, 
'  And  fung  this  foothing  ftrain  : 

"  Where  through  the  trees  yon  tow'rs  appear 
"  Far  o'er  the  level  plain  ; 

"  There  oft  thy  pleafaut  evening  walk 
"  Thy  favourite  maid  fhall  join, 

"  And  all  the  charms  of  tender  talk 
"  And  tuneful  fong  be  thine : 

«  With  thee  flie'll  hear  the  bleat  of  flocks, 

"  The  throftle's  mellow  lay, 
"  The  rills  that  murmur  o'er  the  rocks, 

"  The  whifpers  of  the  fpray."— 

'  So  fung  falfe  hope^Deceiv'd  I  heard, 

'  And  fet  my  heart  at  eafe  ; 
'  The  future  then  fo  fair  appear'd, 

'  It  made  the  prefent  pleafe. 

'  So  fung  falfe  hope — The  approaching  yearsj 

'  That  diftant  look'd  fo  gay, 
'  With  clouds  of  cares  and  ftorms  of  fears 

'  All  fraught,  have  pafs'd  away. 

'  As  glides  yon  fun  adown  the  flcy, 

'  As  rolls  yon  rapid  ftream ; 
'  So  faft  our  joys  and  forrows  fly, 

'  And  flown  appear  a  dream. 

'  Be  then  the  events  that  time  has  brought 
'  To  me  not  brought  in  vain ; 

'  By  painful  difappointment  taught, 
'  Let  wifdom  be  my  gain  1' 

Thus  Theron  fpoke,  and  earneft  ey'd 

The  fun's  departing  ray  ; 
Again  he  look'd,  again  he  figh'd, 

And  homeward  bent  his  way. 

ODE  III. 

TO  CHILDHOOD. 

CHILDHOOD,  happieft  flage  of  life !    , 
Free  from  care  and  free  from  ftrifc, 
Free  from  memory's  ruthlefs  reign, 
Fraught  with  fcenes  of  former  pain ; 
Free  from  fancy's  cruel  flcill, 
Fabricating  future  ill ; 
Time,  when  all  that  meets  the  view,. 
All  can  charm,  for  all  is  new ; 
How  thy  long-loft  hours  I  mourn, 
Never,  never  to  return ! 

Then  to  tofs  the  circling  ball, 
Caught  rebounding  from  the  wall ; 
Then  the  mimic  (hip  to  guide 
Down  the  kennel's  dirty  tide ; 
Then  the  hoop's  revolving  pace 
Through  the  dufty  ftreet  to  chafe; 
O  what  joy  ! — it  once  was  mine, 
Childhood,  matchlcfs  boon  of  thine  !— 
How  thy  long-loft  hours  I  mourn, 
Never,  never  to  return ! 


75* 


THE   WORKS    OF   SCOTT. 


ODE  IV. 


HEARING  MUSIC. 


YON  organ !  hark !— 'how  foft,  how  fweet, 
The  warbling  notes  in  concert  meet ! 

The  found  my  fancy  leads 
To  climes  where  Phoebus'  brighteft  beams 
Gild  jafmine  groves  and  cryftal  ftreams 

And  lily-mantled  meads ; 

Where  myrtle  bowers  their  bloom  unfold, 
Where  citrons  bend  with  fruit  of  gold, 

Where  grapes  deprefs  the  vines; 
Where,  on  the  bank  with  rofes  gay, 
Love,  innocence,  and  pleafure  play, 

And  beauty's  form  reclines. 

"Kovf  different  tones  and  meafures  flow, 
And,  gravely  deep,  and  fadly  flow, 

Involve  the  mind  in  gloom ; 
1  feem  to  join  the  mournful  train, 
Attendant  round  the  couch  of,pain, 

Or  leaning  o'er  the  tomb ; 

To  where  the  orphan'd  infant  fleeps, 
To  where  the  love-lorn  damfel  weeps, 

I  pitying  feem  to  ftray ; 
Methinks  I  watch  his  cradle  near, 
Methinks  her  drooping  thoughts  I  cheery 

And  wipe  her  tears  away. 

Now  loud  the  tuneful  thunders  roll, 
And  roufe  and  elevate  the  foul 

O'er  earth  and  all  its  care; 
I  feem  to  hear  from  heavenly  plains 
Angelic  choirs  refponfive  ftrains, 

And  in  their  raptures  fliare. 

ODE  V. 

A  LANDSCAPE. 

ON  the  eaffiern  hill's  fteep  fide 
Spreads  the  rural  hamlet  wide ; 
'Grofs  the  vale,  where  willowb  rife, 
Further  fl.il!  another  lies; 
And,  beneath  a  fteeper  hill, 
Lies  another  further  ftill : 
Near  them  many  a  field  and  grove— 
Scenes  where  health  and  labour  rove  ! 

Northward  fwelling  flopes  arcieen, 
Clad  with  corn-fields  neat  and  green  ; 
There,  through  grafly  plains  below, 
Broad  and  fmooth  the  waters  flow ; 
While  the  town,  their  banks  along, 
Bids  its  cluttering  houfes  throng, 
In  the  funfliine  glittering  fair; 
Haunts  of  bufinefs,  haunts  of  care  { 

Weft-ward  o'er  the  yellow  meads 
Wind  the  rills  through  waving  reeds ; 
From  dark  elms  a  fhadow  falls 
On  the  abbey's  whiten'd  walls; 
Wide  the  park's  green  lawns  expand; 
Thick  its  tufted  lindens  Hand : 
Fair  retreat !  that  well  might  pleafc 
Wealth,  and  elegance,  and  eafe. 

Hark  1  amidfl  the  diftant  {hades 
Murmuring  drop  thf  deep  cafcadcs; 


Hark  !  amidfl:  the  ruftling  trtei 
Softly  fighsthe  gentle  breeze; 
And  the  JEolian  harp,  reclin'd 
Obvious  to  the  ftream  of  wind, 
Pours  its  wildly -warbled  {train, 
Rifing  now,  now  funk  again. 

How  the  view  detains  the  fight ! 
How  the  founds  the  ear  Delight  I— 
Sweet  the  fcene  1  but  think  not  there 
Happinefs  fincere  to  fliare  : 
Reafon  ftill  regrets  the  day 
Pafling  rapidly  away; 
Leflening  life's  too  little  ftore ; 
Pafling,  to  return  no  more ! 

ODE  VI. 

TO  A  FRIEND,  ON  HIS  MARRIAGE,  AND  REMOVAL 
INTO  THE  COUNTRY. 

IVritfeit  at  Stamvay-Hall,  In  F-JJex. 

WHATE'ER  of  lighter  ftrain  the  mufe 

Eflay'd,  in  vacant  hours  of  cafe, 

At  thy  expence  to  raife  a  fmile, 

1  deem  thy  candour  will  excufe ; 

For  fure  I  meant  not  to  difpleafe, 

For  lure  I  wifli'd  thee  well  the  while  *. 

And  now  the  nuptial  knot  is  ty'd, 
That  mufe  no  idle  flattery  brings, 
Nor  talks  of  joy  unmixt  with  care — 
I  truft  that  none  who  e'er  has  try'd 
The  fobcr  ftate  of  human  things. 
Will  give  thee  hope  fuch  joy  to  fliare. 

DomefHc  life  muft  foon  be  thine — 

'Tis  various  as  an  April  day; 

'Tis pleafure  now,  and  BOW  'tis  pain: 

Through  ftorms  of  foul  and  gleams  of  fine 

Contented  hold  thy  fteady  way, 

And  thefe  enjoy,  and  thofe  fuftain. 

From  London's  flreets  to  folitude, 
From  brilliant  (hops  to  dirty  fields, 
From  beaux  arid  belles  to  rugged  hind*— 
The  change  I  own  is  ftrange  and  rude  : 
Yet  fcarce  a  place  fo  little  yields, 
But  he  who  leeks  amufement  finds. 

Perchance  thou'lt  not  difdain  to  hear 
The  ploughman's  hift'ry  of  the  plain ; 
Thy  fight  the  profpecVs  fcenes  may  charm: 
And  fure  faftidious  is  the  ear 
That  flights  the  milkmaid's  fimple  ftrain 
At  evening  echoing  from  the  farm. 

The  market  lore  of  artful  fwains, 

The  price  of  cattle  and  of  corn, 

The  fportfman's  feats  of  dogs  and  guns;— •* 

To  pra&ife  (hat  will  coft  thee  pains ; 

And  thefe  with  patience  muft  be  borne, 

For  he  will  be  diflik'd  who  fliuns. 

Courage,  my  friend!  whate'er  our  fate; 
So  verl'atile  the  human  mind, 


*  The  author  alludes  to  fame  trifling  pieces  of  f-'ri- 
mour,  written  on  bis  friend,  for  the  amit/i'tncnt  ofafeio 
intimate  acquaintance,  ' 


ODES. 


That  oft,  when  novelty  is  o'er, 
To  objects  of  our  former  hate 
Aflimilated  and  refign'd, 
We  wonder  they  diipleas'd  before. 

'Twas  on  the  feftive  focial  day, 
Where  beauty  caft  her  fmiles  around, 
And  mirth  the  mind  from  care  reliev'd ; 
What  time  our  hands  in  harmlefs  play 
Thy  brow  with  wreaths  of  myrtle  bound, 
My  thoughts  this  grateful  lay  conceiv'd. 

From  Stanway's  groves,  from  fields  of  Layer  *, 
To  other  fcenes  and  other  friends 
To-morrow  calls  my  fteps  away ; 
Yet  memory  them  in  view  fliall  bear ; 
Yet  them  the  wifh  of  health  attends, 
And  many  a  moment  calm  and  gay. 

ODE  VII. 

WRITTEN    IN    WINTER. 

WHILE  in  the  Iky  black  clouds  impend, 
And  fogs  arife,  and  rains  defcend, 
And  one  brown  profpecl  opens  round 
Of  leaflefs  trees  and  furrow'd  ground  ; 
Save  where  unmeltcd  fpots  of  Inow 
Upon  the  (haded  hill-fide  fliow  ; 
While  chill  winds  blow,  and  torrents  roll, 
The  fcene  difgufts  the  fight,  deprefles  all  the  foul. 

Yet  worfe  what  polar  climate  fhare — 
Vaft  regions,  dreary,  bleak,  and  bare  ! — 
There,  on  an  icy  mountain's  height, 
Seen  only  by  the  moon's  pale  light, 
Stern  Winter  rears  his  giant  form, 
His  robe  a  mift,  his  voice  a  ftorm  : 
His  frown  the  ftiivering  nations  fly, 
And  hid  for  half  the  year  in  fmoky  caverns  lie. 

Yet  there  the  lamp's  perpetual  blaze 
Can  pierce  the  gloom  with  cheering  rays; 
Yet  there  the  heroic  tale  or  fong 
Can  urge  the  lingering  hours  along  ; 
Yet  there  their  hands  with  timely  care 
The  kajak  •)•  and  the  dart  prepare, 
On  fummer  feas  to  work  their  way, 
And  wage  the  wat'ry  war,  and  make  the  feals 
their  prey. 

Too  delicate  !  reproach  no  more 
The  feafons  of  thy  native  fliore— 
There  foon  fliall  Spring  defcend  the  (ky, 
With  fmiling  brow  and  placid  eye ; 
A  primrofe  wreath  furrounds  her  hair, 
Her  green  robe  floats  upon  the  air ; 
And  fcatter'd  from  her  liberal  hand, 
Fair  bloflbms  deck  the  trees,  fair  flqw'rs  adorn 
the  land. 

ODE  Vlir. 

TO     A    FRIEND. 

WHERE  Grove-hillSt  fliows  thy  villa  fair, 
But  late,  my  Lettfom,  there  with  thee 

*  Layer  Breton,  a  village  in  EJJ'nx, 
f  A  Greenland  fi/hing  boat. 
I  At  Cambernvell,  in  Surrey* 
VOE.  XI. 


753 


'Twas  mine  the  tranquil  hour  to  ftiare— 
The  focial  hour  of  converle  free  ; 
To  mark  the  arrangement  of  thy  ground, 
Arid  all  the  pleating  profpecl:  round, 
Where,  while  we  gaz'd,  new  beauties  ftill  were 
found. 

There,  as  the  impending  cloud  of  fmoke 
Fled  various  from  the  varying  gale, 
Full  on  the  view  frefh  objects  broke 
Along  the  extenfive  peopled  vale, 
Befide  Thamefis'  bending  ftream, 
From  ancient  Lambeth's  weft  extreme, 
To  Limehoufe  glittering  in  the  evening  beam. 

And  now  and  then  the  glancing  eye 
Caught  glimpfe  of  fpots  remoter  ftill. 
On  Hampftead's  ftreet-clad  flope  fo  high, 
Or  Harrow's  fair  confpicuous  hill ; 
Or  eaftward  wander'd  to  explore 
All  Peckhatn's  pleafant  level  o'er, 
To  bufy  Deptford's  veflel-crowded  ftiore  : 

Or  fought  that  fouthern  landfcape's  bound, 
Thofe  iwelling  mounts — one  fmooth  and  green, 
And  one  with  oaken  coverts  crown'd, 
And  one  where  fcattering  trees  are  feen  *. 
'Twas  thefe,  with  Summer's  radiance  bright, 
That  gave  my  earlieft  youth  delight, 
Of  rural  fcenes  the  firft  that  met  my  fight  f. 

That  bufinefs  with  fatiguing  cares, 
For  this  delightful  feat  of  thine 
Such  fcanty  ftore  of  moments  fpares, 
S.iy,  friend,  (hall  I  for  thee  repine  ? 
Were  it  the  commerce  of  the  main, 
Or  culture  of  the  teeming  plain, 
From  blame  or  pity  I  fliould  fcarce  refrain. 

But  O  !  to  alleviate  human  woes, 
To  banilh  ficknefs,  banifli  pain, 
To  give  the  fleeplefs  eye  repofe, 
The  nervelefs  arm  its  ftrength  again  ; 
From  parent  eyes  to  dry  the  tear, 
The  wife's  diftrefsful  thought  to  cheer, 
And  end  the  hufband's  and  the  lover's  fear; 

Where  want  fits  pining,  faint,  and  ill, 
To  lend  thy  kind  unpurchas'd  aid. 
And  hear  the  exertions  of  thy  (kill 
With  many  a  grateful  blefling  paid— 
"Tis  luxury  to  the  feeling  heart, 
Beyond  what  focial  hours  impart,  [art. 

Or  nature's  beauteous  fcenes,  or  curious  works  a 

ODE  IX. 

LEAVING  BATH-     M.DCC.LXKVI. 

BATH  !  ere  I  quit  thy  pleafing  fcene, 
Thy  beechen  cliff  I'll  climb  again, 
To  view  thy  mountains  vivid  green, 
To  view  thy  hill-furrounded  plain  ; 

To  fee  diftmct  beneath  the  eye, 

As  in  a  pictur'd  profpect  nigh, 

*  The  Dulwich  hills. 

f  The  author  was  torn  in  tie  environs  ofLon* 
don,  CM  the  Surrey  fide. 


754 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


Thofe  Attic  ftmctures  fhining  white, 
That  form  thy  funny  crefcent's  bend, 
Or  by  thy  dully  ftreets  extend, 
Or  near  thy  winding  river's  fite. 

.Did  commerce  thefe  proud  piles  upraife  ! 

For  thee  flie  ne'er  unfurl'd  her  fails— 

Hygeia  gave  thy  fountains  praife, 

And  pain  and  languor  fought  thy  vales  : 
But  thefe  fuffic'd  an  humble  cell. 
If  they  with  ftrength  and  eafe  might  dwell. 

Then  fafhion  call'd  ;  his  potent  voice 

Proud  wealth  with  ready  (tep  obey'd, 

And  pleafure  all  her  artseffay'd, 

ToTix  with  thee  the  fickle  choice. 

Precarious  gift !«— Thy  manfions  gay, 
Where  peers  and  beauties  lead  the  ball, 
Neglected  foon  may  feel  decay  ; 
Forfaken,  moulder  to  their  fall  — 

Palmyra,  once  like  thee  renown'd, 

Now  lies  a  ruin  on  the  ground.—- 
But  ftill  thy  environs  fo  fair, 
Thy  waters  falutary  aid, 
Will  furely  always  fome  perfuade 
To  render  thee  their  care. 

ODE  X. 

TO    J.    PAYNE,   ESQ;    ACCOUNTANT-GENER AL    OF 
THE    BANK  OF  ENGLAND. 

O  FRIEND  !  to  thee,  whofe  lib'ral  mind 
Was  form'd  with  tafte  for  joys  refin'd> 
For  all  the  extended  country  yields," 
Of  azure  flues  and  verdant  fields; 
For  all  that  genius'  hand  difpla}S, — 
The  painter's  forms,  the  poet's  lays:-^- 
To  thee,  reftraint  to  that  dull  room, 
Where  funfhine  never  breaks  the  gloom  ; 
To  thee,  reftraint  to  that  dull  lore 
Of  books,  with  numbers  cypher'd  o'er — • 
How  hard  the  lot !  I  fee  with  pain, 
And  wifh  it  oft  exchang'd  in  vain. 
Yet  not  for  thee  I  alk  the  ftores 
Which  rapine  rends  from  foreign  fliores, 
Nor  thofe  oppreflion's  power  procures 
From  ills  that  poverty  endures. 
Far  happier  thou  I   thy  honeft  gain 
Can  life  with  decency  fuftain  ; 
For  thee,  content,  with  thought  ferene, 
Surveys  the  prefent  changeful  fcene  ; 
And  piety  her  view  fublime 
Extends  beyond  the  realm  of  time, 

ODE  XI. 

TO   A  FRIEND,   APPREHENSIVE    OF  DECLINING 
FRIENDSHIP, 

Too  much  in  man's  imperfect  ftate 

Miftake  produces  ufelefs  pain 

Methinks,  of  friendfhip's  frequent  fate 

I  hear  my  Frogley's  voice  complain. 
This  heart,  I  hope,  forgives  its  foes ; 

I  knpw  U  ne'er  forgets  its  friends ; 


Where'er  may  chance  my  fteps  difpofe, 
The  abfent  oft  my  thought  attends. 

Deem  not  that  time's  oblivious  hand 
From  mem'ry's  page  has  raz'd  the  days, 

By  Lee's  sreen  verge  vve  wont  to  ft  and 
And  on  his  cryilai  current  gaze. 

From  Chadwell's  cliffs,  o'crhung  with  fliade, 
From  Wjdbury's  profpec't-yieldrng  hill, 

Sweet  look'd  the  fcenes  we  then  furvey'd, 
While  fancy  fought  for  fweeter  ftill : 

Then  how  did  learning's  (lores  delight  ! 

From  books  what  pleafures  then  we  drew  ! 
For  then  their  charms  firft  met  our  fight, 

And  then  their  faults  we  little  knew. 

Alas  !  life's  Summer  fwiftly  flies, 

And  few  its  hours  of  bright  and  fair  ! 

Why  bid  diftruft's  chill  eaft-wind  rife, 
To  blaft  the  fcauty  blooms  they  bear  ? 

ODE  XII. 

TO    A    FRIEND. 

No,  Cockfieid,  no  !  I'll  not  difdain 
Thy  Upton's  elm-divided  plain  ; 
Norfcorn  the  varied  views  it  yields, 
O'er  Bromley's  creeks  and  iflts  of  reeds, 
Or  Ham's  or  Plaiftovv's  level  meads, 
To  Woolwich  ftreets,  or  Charlton  fields: 
Thy  hedge-row  paths  I'll  pleafant  call, 
And  praife  the  lonely  lane  that  leads 
To  that  old  tower  upon  the  wall. 

'Twas  when  misfortune's  ftroke  fevere, 
And  melancholy's  prefence  drear, 
Had  made  my  Am  well's  groves  difpleafe, 
That  thine  my  weary  fteps  receiv'd, 
And  much  the  change  my  mind  reliev'd, 
And  much  thy  kindnefs  gave  me  eafe ; 
For  o'er  the  paft  as  thought  would  ftray, 
That  thought  thy  voice  as  oft  retriev'd. 
To  fcenes  which  fair  before  us  lay. 

And  there  in  happier  hours,  the  walk 
Has  frequent  pleas'd  with  friendly  talk  ; 
From  theme  to  theme  that  wander'd  ftill — 
The  long  detail  of  where  we  had  been, 
And  what  we  had  heard,  and  what  we  had  feen  : 
And  what  the  poet's  tuneful  (kill. 
And  what  the  painter's  graphic  art, 
Or  antiquarian's  fearches  keen, 
Of  calm  amufement  could  impart. 

,    'Then  oft  did  nature's  works  engage, 
And  oft  vve  fearch'd  Linnaeus'  page  ; 
The  Scanian  fage,  whofe  wond'rous  toil 
Had  clafs'd  the  vegetable  race  : 
And  curious,  oft,  from  place  to'place 
We  rang'd,  and  fought  each  different  foil, 
Each  different  plant  intent  to  view, 
And  all  the  marks  minute  to  trace, 
Whence  he  his  nice  diftindlions  drew. 

O  moments  thefe,  not  ill  employ'd  \ 
O  moments,  better  far  enjoy 'd 
Than  thofe  in  crowded  cities  pafs'd  ; 
Where  oft  to  luxury's  gaudy  reign 


ODES. 


755 


Trade  lends  her  feeble  aid  in  vain, 
Till  pride,  a  bankrupt  wretch  at  laft, 
Bids  fraud  his  fpecious  wiles  efTay, 
Youth's  eafy  confidence  to  gain, 
Or  induftry's  poor  pittance  rend  away. 

ODE  XIII. 

I  HATE  that  drum's  difcordant  found, 
Parading  round,  and  round,  and  round, 
To  thoughtlefs  youth  it  pleafure  yields, 
And  lure's  from  cities  and  from  fields, 
To  fell  their  liberty  for  charms 
Of  tawdry  lace,  and  glittering  arms; 
And  when  ambition's  voice  commands, 
To  march,  and  fight,  and  fall,  in  foreign  lands. 

I  hate  that  drum's  difcordant  found 
Parading  round,  and  round,  and  round  : 
To  me  it  talks  of  ravag'd  plains, 
And  burning  towns,  and  ruin'd  fwains, 
And  mangled  limbs,  and  dying  groans, 
And  widows  tears,  and  orphans  moans ; 
And  all  that  mifery's  hand  Bellows, 
To  fill  the  catalogue  of  human  w.oes. 

ODE  XIV. 

WRITTEN'    AFTIR  READING    SOME    MODERN 
LOVE-VERSES. 

TAKE  hence  this  tuneful  tritler's  lays '. 
I'll  hear  no  more  the  unmeaning  ftrain 
Of  Venus'  doves,  and  Cupid's  darts, 
And  killing  eyes,  and  wounded  hearts ; 
All  flatt'ry's  round  of  fulfome  prajfe, 
All  falfehood's  cant  of  fabled  pain. 

Bring  me  the  rnufe  whofe  tongue  has  told 
Love's  genuine  plaintive  tender  tale  ; 
Bring  me  the  mufe  whofe  founds  of  woe 
'Midft  death's  dread  ftenes  fo  1'weetly  flow, 
When  friendfhip's  faithful  bread  lies  cold, 
"When  beauty's  blooming  cheek  is  pale  : 
Bring  thefe — I  like  their  grief  fincere  ; 
It  fooths  my  fympathetic  gloom  : 
For,  oh  1  love's  genuine  pains  I've  borne, 
And  death's  dread  rage  has  made  rue  mourn  ; 
I've  wept  o'er  friendihip's  early  bier, 
And  dropt  the  tear  on  beauty's  tomb. 

ODE  XV. 

THE    MUSE;    OR,    POETICAL    ENTHUSIASM. 

THE  mufe  !  whate'er  the  mufe  infpires, 

My  foul  th;  tuneful  ftrain  admires; 

The  poet's  birth,  I  alk  nut  where, 

His  place,  his  name,  they're  not  my  care  ; 

Nor  Greece  nor  Rome  delights  me  more 

Thau  Tagus'  bank  *,  or  Thames's  fbore  f  : 

From  filver  Avon's  flowery  fide 

Though  Shakfpeare's  numbers  fweetly  glide, 

*  Alluding  to  Camoens,  the  epic  poet  of  Por 
tugal ;  ofwbofe  Lvjladiue  have  a  wel 
maflerly  tranjlation  fry  Mr.  Mickle. 
to  Milton,  Popr,  *3V. 


As  fweet,  from  Morven's  defert  hills, 
My  ear  the  voice  of  Oflian  fills. 

The  mufe  '.  whate'er  the  mufe  infpircs, 
My  foul  the  tuneful  drain  admires  : 
Nor  bigot  zeal,  nor  party  rage 
Prevail,  to  make  me  blame  the  page ; 
I  fcorn  not  all  that  Dryden  fmgs, 
Becaufe  he  flatters  courts  and  kings; 
And  from  the  matter  lyre  of  Gray 
When  pomp  of  mufic  breaks  away, 
Not  lefs  the  found  my  notice  draws, 
For  that  is  heard  in  freedom's  caufe. 

The  mufe  !  whate'er  the  mufe  infpires, 
My  foul  the  tuneful  ftrain  admires: 
Where  wealth's  bright  fun  propitious  mine?, 
No  added  luftre  marks  the  lines ; 
Where  want  extends  her  chilling  fliades, 
No  pleafing  flower  of  fancy  fades, 
A  fcribbling  peer's  applauded  lays 
Might  claim,  but  claim  in  vain,  my  praife 
From  that  poor  youth,  whofe  tales  relate 
Sad  Juga's  fears  and  Bawdin's  fate  *. 

The  mufe  !  whate'er  the  mufe  infpires, 
My  foul  the  tuneful  ftrain  admires  : 
When  fame  her  wreaths  well-earn'd  beftow?, 
My  breaft  no  latent  envy  knows; 
My  Langhorne's  verle  I  lov'd  to  hear, 
And  Beattie's  fong  delights  my  ear  ; 
And  his  whom  Athen's  tragic  maid 
Now  leads  through  Scarning's  lonely  glad«; 
While  he  for  Britifti  nymphs  bid  flow 
Her  notes  of  terror  and  of  woe  f. 

The  mufe  !  whate'er  the  mufe  infpires, 
My  foul  the  tuneful  ftrain  admires : 
Or  be  the  verfe  or  blank  or  rhyme, 
The  theme,  or  humble  or  fublime  ; 
If  paftoral's  hand  my  journey  leads 
Through  harveft  fields  or  new-mown  meads ; 
If  epic's  voice  fonorous  calls 
To  Oeta's  clifts  f  or  Salem's  walls  j|  ; 
Enough — the  mufe,  the  mufe  infpires  1 
My  foul  the  tuneful  ftrain  admires. 

ODE  XVI. 

VIEWING  THE  RUINS  OF    AN    ABBEY, 

To  a  Friend. 

How  fteep  yon  mountains  rife  around, 
How  bold  yon  gloomy  woods  afcend  ! 
How  loud  the  rufhing  torrents  found 
That  'midlt  thefe  heaps  of  ruin  bend, 
Where  one  arch'd  gateway  yet  remains, 

*  See  Rowley's  p»ems,fiippofed  to  have  been 
written  by  Cbatterton,  an  unhappy  youth  born  at 
Brijiol. 

\  See  Mr.  Potter's  excellent  tranjlation  of 
JEfchylus  and  Euripides. 

\  See  Mr.  Glover's  Leenidas,  alluded  to  as  aft 
example  of  clajjtcal  dignity  and  jimplicity. 

||  Sec  Tqflo't  Jerufalem  Delivered,  alluded  f-> 
as  an  exa'-'*?-'?  °f  Gothic  fanry  andma?K[" 


7S6 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


And  one  lone  aifle  its  roof  retains, 
And  one  tall  turret's  walls  impend  ! 

Here  once  a  felf-fequefter'd  train 
Renounc'd  life's  tempting  pomp  and  glare  ; 
Rejected  power,  relinquish' d  gain, 
And  fhunn'd  the  great,  and  (huna'd  the  fair  : 
The  voluntary  flaves  of  toil, 
By  day  they  till'd  their  little  foil, 
By  night  they  awoke  and  role  to  prayer. 

Though  fuperftition  much  we  blame, 
That  bade  them  thus  confurne  their  years ; 
Their  motive  ftill  out  praife  muft  claim, 
Their  conftancy  our  thought  reveres  : 
And  fure  their  iblitary  fcheme 
Muft  check  each  paffiou's  wild  extreme', 
And  fave  them  cares,  and  fave  them  fears. 

Their  convent's  round  contain'd  their  all ; 
Their  minds  no  fad  prefage  oppreft, 
"What  fate  might  abfent  wealth  befal. 
How  abfent  friends  might  be  diftreft : 
Domeftic  ills  ne'er  hurt  their  eafe  ; 
They  nought  of  pain  could  feel  from  thefe, 
Who  no  domeftic  joys  pofieft. 

But  imperfection  haunts  each  place  : 
Should  this  kind  calm  atone  to  thee 
For  fame's  or  fortune's  fprightly  chafe, 
Whofe  prize  in  profpeft  (till  we  fee  ; 
Or  Hymen's  happy  moments  bleft, 
With  beauty  leaning  on  thy  breaft, 
Or  childhood  prattling  at  thy  knee  ? 

ODE  XVII. 

PRIVATEERING. 

Now  cuftom  fteels  the  human  breaft 
To  deeds  that  nature's  thoughts  deleft  ! 
How  cuftom  confecrates  to  fame 
"What  reafon  elfe  would  give  to  fliame  I 
Fair  Spring  fupplies  the  favouring  gale, 
The  naval  plunderer  fpreads  his  fail, 
And  ploughing  wide  the  wat'ry  way, 
Explores  with  anxious  eyes  his  prey. 

The  man  he  never  faw  before, 
The  man  who  him  no  quarrel  bore, 
He  meets,  and  avarice  prompts  the  fight ; 
And  rage  enjoys  the  dreadful  fight 
Of  decks  with  ttreaming  crimfon  dy'd, 
And  wretches  ftruggling  in  the  tide, 
Or,  'midft  th'  explofion's  horrid  glare, 
Uifpers'd  with  quivering  limbs  in  air. 

The  merchant  now  on  foreign  fliores 
His  captur'd  wealth  in  vain  deplores; 
Quits  his  fair  home,  O  mournful  change  I 
For  the  dark  prifon's  fcanty  range  ; 
By  plenty's  hand  fo  lately  fed, 
Depends  on  cafual  alms  for  bread ; 
And  with  a  father's  anguifh  torn, 
Sees  his  poor  offspring  left  forlorn. 

And  yet,  fuch  man's  misjudging  mind, 
For  all  this  injury  to  his  kind, 


The  profperous  robber's  native  plain 
Shall  bid  him  welcome  home  again ; 
His  name  the  fong  of  every  ftreet, 
His  adts  the  theme  of  all  we  meet, 
And  oft  the  artift's  (kill  fhall  place 
To  public  view  his  pictur'd  face  1 

If  glory  thus  be  earn'd,  for  me 
My  objedl  glory  ne'er  fhall  be  ; 
No,  firft  in  Cambria's  lonelieft  dale 
Be  mine  to  hear  the  fhepherd's  tale  ! 
No,  firft  on  Scotia's  bleakeft  hill 
Be  mine  the  ftubborn  foil  to  till  1 
Remote  from  wealth,  to  dwell  alone, 
And  die,  to  guilty  praife  unknown  '. 


ODE  XVIII. 

ON  HOSPITALITY. 

DOMESTIC  powers!  erewhile  rever'd, 
Where  Syria  fpread  her  palmy  plain, 
Where  Greece  her  tuneful  mules  heard, 
Where  Rome  beheld  her  patriot  train ; 
Thou  to  Albion  too  wert  known, 
'Midft  the  moat  and  mofs-grown  wall 
That  girt  her  Gothic-ftruclur'd  hall 
With  rural  trophies  ftrown. 

The  traveller,  doubtful  of  his  way, 

Upon  the  pathlefs  foreft  wild  ; 
The  huntfman,  in  the  heat  of  day, 

And  with  the  tedious  chafe  o'ertoil'd ; 
Wide  their  view  around  them  cad, 
Mark'd  the  diftant  ruftic  tower, 
And  fought  and  found  the  feltive  bower, 
And  fliar'd  the  free  repaft. 

E'en  now,  on  Caledonia's  Hiore, 

When  eve's  dun  robe  the  (ky  arrays, 
Thy  punctual  hand  unfolds  the  door, 
Thy  eye  the  mountain  road  furveys ; 
Pleas'd  to  fpy  the  cafual  gueft, 
Pleas'd  with  food  his  heart  to  cheer, 
With  pipe  or  fong  to  footh  his  ear, 
And  fpread  his  couch  for  reft. 

Nor  yet  e'en  here  difdain'd  thy  fway, 

Where  grandeur's  fplendid  modern  feat 
Far  o'er  the  landfcape  glitters  gay  ; 
Or  where  fair  quiet's  lone  retreat 
Hides  beneath  the  hoary  hill, 
Near  the  dufky  npland  (hade, 
Between  the  willow's  gloffy  glade, 
And  by  the  tinkling  rill. 

There  thine  the  pleafing  interviews 
That  friends  and  relatives  endear, 
When  fcenes  not  often  feen  amufe, 
When  tales  not  often  told  we  hear  ; 
There  the  fcholar's  liberal  mind 
Oft  infrrudlion  gives  and  gains, 
And  oft  the  lover's  lore  obtains 
His  feir-one's  audience  kind. 

O  gentle  power !  where'er  thy  reign, 
May  health  and  peace  attend  thee  ftill ; 


O    D 


Nor  folly's  prefence  caufe  thee  pain, 
Nor  vice  reward  thy  good  with  ill ; 
Gratitude  thy  altar  raife, 
Wealth  to  thee  her  offerings  pay, 
And  genius  wake  his  tuneful  lay 
To  celebrate  thy  praii'e. 

ODE  XIX. 

THE    APOLOGY. 

*  PASTORAL,  arid  elegy,  and  ode  ! 
'  Who  hopes,  by  theie,  applaufe  to  gain, 
f  Believe  me,  friend,  may  hope  in  vain— 
'  Thefe  claffic  things  are  not  the  mode ; 
'  Our  tafte  polite,  fo  much  refin'd, 
'  Demands  a  ftrain  of  different  kind. 

'  Go,  court  the  mufe  of  Chevy  Chace, 
'  To  tell  in  Sternhold's  fimple  rhimes 
4  S  jme  tale  of  ancient  Englifli  times  ; 
'  Or  try  to  win  rude  fatire's  grace, 
'  That  fcold,  who  dirt  around  her  throws, 
'  And  many  a  random  ftain  befto.ws. 

'  Or  dull  trite  thoughts  in  fongs  combine, 
4  And  bid  the  tuneful  accents  fall, 
'  To  wake  the  echoes  ofVauxhall; 
'  Or  tow'rds  the  ftage  thy  thoughts  incline, 
'  And  furnifli  fome  half-pilfer'd  play, 
'  To  fliine  the  meteor  of  the  day.' 

O  !  no — though  fuch  the  crowd  amufe, 
And  peals  of  noify  praife  procure  ; 
Will  they  the  critic  eye  endure, 
And  pats  the  ordeal  of  reviews  ? 
And  who  is  he  for  whom  they'll  gain 
A  nich  in  fame's  immortal  fane  ? 

The  plan  that  Virgil's  choice  could  claim, 
The  plan  that  Horace  deign'd  to  choofe, 
Truft  me,  I  with  not  to  refufe  : — 
To  Akenfide's  or  Shenftone's  name 
The  praife  that  future  days  mail  pay, 
Methinks  may  well  content  my  lay. 


ODE  XX. 

THIS  fcene  how  rich  from  Thames's  fide, 
While  evening  funs  their  amber  beam 
Spread  o'er  the  glafiy-furfac'd  tide, 
And  'midft  the  mafts  and  cordage  gleam ; 
Blaze  on  the  roofs  with  turrets  crown'd, 
And  gild  green  paftures  ftretch'd  around, 
And  gild  the  flope  of  that  high  ground, 
Whofe  cornfields  bright  the  prol'pedl  bound  *  ! 

The  white  fails  glide  along  the  fliore, 
Red  dreamers  on  the  breezes  play, 
The  boatmen  ply  the  daihing  oar, 
And  wide  their  various  freight  convey  ; 
Some  Neptune's  hardy  thoughtlefs-traiu, 
And  fome  the  careful  fons  of  gain, 

*  Shooter's  Hill.    This  <uieiv  ivas  taken  on  tl 
north  fide  of  the  Thames,  at  Rat  cliff. 


S.  757 

And  fome  the  enamour'd  nymph  and  fwain 
-iftening  to  muiic's  foothing  ftrain. 

But  there,  while  thefe  the  fight  allure, 

till  fancy  wings  her  flight  away 

To  woods  reclufe,  and  vales  obfcure, 
And  itreams  that  folitary  ftray  ; 

To  view  the  pine-grove  on  the  hill, 

The  rocks  that  trickling  fprings  diftill, 

The  meads  that  quivering  afpins  fill, 
Or  alders  crowding  o'er  the  rill. 

And  where  the  trees  unfold  their  bloom, 
And  where  the  banks  their  floriage  bear, 
And  all  effufe  a  rich  perfume 
That  hovers  in  the  foft  calm  air; 
The  hedge-row  path  to  wind  along, 
To  hear  the  bleating  fleecy  throng, 
To  hear  the  fkylark's  airy  fong, 
And  throttle's  note  fo  clear  and  ftrong. 

But  fay,  if  there  our  fteps  were  brought, 
Would  thefe  their  pow'r  to  pleafe  retain  ? 

ay,  would  not  reftlefs,  roving  thought 
Turn  back  to  bufy  fcenes  again  ? 
O  ftrange  formation  of  the  mind  ! 
Still,  though  the  prefent  fair  we  find, 
Still  tow'rds  the  abfent  thus  inclin'd, 
Thus  fix'd  on  objects  left  behind '. 

ODE  XXL 

WRITTEN  AFTER  A  JOURNEY  TO  BRISTOL. 

THEE,  Briftol,  oft  my  thoughts  recal, 

Thy  Kingfdown  brow  and  Brandon  hill ; 
The  fpace,  once  circled  by  thy  wall, 

Which  tow'rs  and  fpires  of  churches  fill ; 
And  mafts  and  fails  of  veflels  tall, 
With  trees  and  houfes  intermingled  ftill ! 

From  Clifton's  rocks  how  grand  the  fight, 
When  Avon's  dark  tide  rufh'd  betvreen  1 

How  grand,  from  Henbury's  woody  height, 
The  Severn's  wide-fpread  wat'ry  fcene, 

Her  waves  with  trembling  funlhine  bright, 
And  Cambrian  hills  beyond  them  rifing  green  I 

To  Mendip's  ridge  how  ftretch'd  away 

My  view,  while  fancy  fought  the  plain 
Where  Blagdon's  groves  fecluded  lay, 

And  heard  my  much-lov'd  poet's  ftrain  *  '. 
Ah  !  why  fo  near,  nor  thither  Itray 
To  meet  the  friend  I  ne'er  mail  meet  again  ? 

Occasion's  call  averfe  to  ptize, 
Irrefolute  we  oft  remain — 
She  foon  irrevocably  flies, 

And  then  we  mourn  her  flown  in  vain  ; 
While  pleafure's  itnag'd  forms  arife, 
Whofe  fancied  lois  regret  beholds  with  pain. 

And  Briftol !  why  thy  fcenes  explore, 
And  why  thofe  fcenes  fo  foon  relign, 

And  fail  to  feek  the  fpot  that  bore 

That  wonderous  tuneful  youth  of  thine, 

*  The  late  ingenious  Dr.  John  Langlorne,  then 
refolejit  at  Blagdon,  near  Bri/lol. 

3  B  iij 


75* 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


The  bard  #,  whofe  boafted  ancient  ftore 
Rofe  recent  from  his  own  exhauftlefs  mine  f  ! 

Though  fortune  all  her  gifts  denied, 

Though  learning  made  him  not  her  choice, 
The  mufe  ftill  plac'd  him  at  her  fide, 

And  hade  him  in  her  fmile  rejoice — 
Defcription  flill  his  pen  fupplied, 
Pathos  his  thought,  and  melody  his  voice  ! 

Confcious  and  proud  of  merit  high, 

Fame's  wreath  he  boldly  claim 'd  to  wear  ; 

But  fame,  regardlefs,  pais'd  him  by, 

Unknown,  or  deem'd  unworth  her  care  : 

The  fun  of  hope  forfook  his  Iky  ; 
And  all  his  land  look'd  dreary,  bleak,  and  bare  ! 

Then  poverty,  grim  fpectre,  rofe, 
And  horror  o'er  the  profpect  threw — 

His  deep  diftrefs  too  nice  t'  expofe ; 
Too  nice  for  common  aid  to  fue, 

A  dire  alternative  he  chofe, 
And  raflily  from  the  painful  fcene  withdrew. 

Ah  !  why  for  genius'  headftrong  rage 
Did  virtue's  hand  no  curb  prepare  ? 

What  boots,  poor  youth  1  that  now  thy  page 
Can  boaft  the  public  praife  to  fliare, 

The  learn'd  in  deep  refearch  engage, 
And  lightly  entertain  the  gentle  fair  ? 

Ye,  who  fuperfluous  wealth  command, 

0  why  your  kind  relief  delay'd  ? 

.     O  why  not  fnatch'd  his  defperate  hand  ? 

His  foot  on  fate's  dread  brink  not  ftay'd  ? 
What  thanks  had  you  your  native  land 
For  a  new  Shakfpeare  or  new  Milton  paid  ? 

For  me— Imagination's  power 

Leads  oft  infenfibly  my  way, 
To  where,  at  midnight's  filent  hour, 

The  crefcerit  moon's  flow-weftering  ray 
Pours  full  on  Redcliff 's  lofty  tower, 
And  gilds  with  yellow  light  its  walls  of  gray. 

'Midft  toil  and  commerce  ilumbering  round, 

Lull'd  by  the  rifing  tide's  hoarfe  roar, 
There  Frome  and  A.von  willow-crown'd, 

1  view  fad- wandering  by  the  more, 

With  ftreaming  tears,  and  notes  of  mournful 

found, 
Too  late  their  haplefs  bard,  untimely  loft,  deplore. 

ODE  XXII. 

TO    CRITICISM. 

FAIR  nymph  !  of  tafte  and  learning  born, 
Whom  truth's  and  candour's  gifts  adorn, 

*  Chattcrton. 

\  This  is  at  leaft  the  author's  opinion,  notwith- 
Jlanding  all  that  has  hitherto  appeared  on  the 
other  fide  of  the  que/lion.  The  la/I  line  alludes  to 
one  of  the  ingenious  Mr.  Mafon,  in  his  tlegy  to  a 
young  nobleman  : 

"  See  from  the  depths  of  his  exhauftlefs  mine 
"  His  glittering  ftores  the  tuneful  fpendthrift 
"  throws." 


The  mufe's  friend  !  to  thee  fhe  fings : 
Accept  the  grateful  verfe  fhe  brings. 
When  genius,  ranging  nature  o'er, 
Collects  his  tributary  ftore, 
What  matter's  tract  immenfe  fupplies, 
Or  wide  in  mind's  vaft  region  lies, 
And  every  thought  with  Ikill  combines, 
And  all  tranfmits  in  tuneful  lines ; 
Then  rapture  fparkling  in  thine  eye, 
Then  rais'd  thy  folemn  voice  on  high ; 
Thy  comment  ftill  his  work  purfues, 
The  plan  explains,  the  ftyle  reviews, 
And  marks  its  ftrength,  and  marks  its  eafe  ; 
And  tells  us  why  and  how  they  pleafe. 
And  when,  perhaps,  difdaining  care, 
He  blends  with  faults  his  products  fair  ; 
Whate'er  of  fuch  thy  fight  furveys, 
Thy  tongue  in  triumph  ne'er  difplays, 
But  hints,  as  fpots  that  dim  the  fun, 
Or  rocks  that  future  fails  mould  flmn. 

'Twas  thee  whom  once  Stagyra's  grove 
Oft  with  her  fage  *  allur'd  to  rove  ; 
'Twas  thee  to  whom  in  Tadmore's  bowers, 
Her  ftatefman  f  vow'd  his  vacant  hours; 
'Twas  Jthee  whom,  Tibur's  vines  among, 
Her  bard  f  in  carelefs  meafures  fung; 
'Twas  thou  who  thence  to  Albion's  plain 
Remov'd,  to  teach  her  tuneful  train, 
When  Dryden's  age  by  thee  infpir'd, 
Condemn'd  the  flights  his  youth  admir'd  ; 
And  Pope,  intent  on  higher  praife, 
So  polifli'd  all  his  pleafing  lays  : 
And  now,  by  thee,  our  favour'd  coaft. 
A  Warton,  Hurd,  and  Burke  can  boaft ; 
And  her,  whofe  pen  from  Gallic  rage 
Defended  Shakfpeare's  injur'd  page  §. 

Give  me,  bright  power  !  with  ready  ear, 
Another's  plea  for  fame  to  hear, 
And  bid  my  willing  voice  allow 
The  bays  to  merit's  modeft  brow  : 
And  when  the  mufe  her  piefence  deigns. 
And  prompts  my  own  unftudied  ftrains, 
Inftruct  me  them,  with  view  fevere, 
To  infpect,  and  keep  from  error  clear  ; 
Nor  fpare,  though  fancy'd  e'er  fo  fine, 
One  ill-plac'd  thought,  or  ufelefs  line. 


ODE  XXIII. 

TO  DISEASE. 

DISEASE!   man's  dread,  relentlefs  for, 
Fell  iuurce  of  fear,  and  pain,  and  woe' 
O  fay,  on  what  ill-fated  coaft 
They  mourn  thy  tyrant  reign  the  moft  ? 
On  Java's  bogs,  or  Gambia's  fand, 
Or  Perfia's  fultry  fouthern  ftrand; 
Or  Egypt's  annual. flooded  plain, 
••    Or  Rome's  neglected,  wafte  domain ; 
Or  where  her  walls  Byzantium  rears, 
And  mofques  and  turrets  crefcent-crown'd, 

*  Arijlotle.          f  Longinus.          $  Horace. 

§  The  ingenious  Mrs.  Montague,  'who  has 
"o  ably  vindicated  Shakfpeare  from  the  ca-vils  of 
roltaire, 


ODES. 


And  from  his  high  ferail  the  fultan  hears 
The  wi-'e  Propontis1  beating  wave:,  refound  *. 
I'll  afk  no  more — Our  clime,  though  fair, 
En/.ioh  thy  tyiant  reign  muft  (hare  ; 
And  L;vers  there,  and  friends,  complain, 
By  thee  their  friends  and  lovers  (lain  : 
And  yet  our  avarice  and  our  pride 
Combine  to  fpread  thy  mifchiefs  wide  ; 
While  that  the  captive  wretch  confines, 
To  hunger,  cold,  and  filth  refigns, — 
And  this  the  funeral  pomp  attends 
To  vaults,  where  mouldering  corfes  lie,— » 
Amid  foul  air  thy  form  unfeen  afcends, 
And  like  a  vulture  hovers  in  the  iky  f. 

ODE  XXIV. 

THE  TEMPESTUOUS  EVENING. 

THERE'S  grandeur  in  this  founding  ftorm, 
That  drives  the  hurrying  clouds  along 
That  on  each  other  feem  to  throng, 
And  mix  in  many  a  varied  form  ; 
While,  burfting  now  and  then  between, 
The  moon's  dim  mifty  orb  is  feen, 
And  cafts  faint  glimpfes  on  the  green. 

Beneath  the  blaft  the  forefts  bend, 
And  thick  the  branchy  ruin  lies, 
And  wide  the  fhower  of  foliage  flies  ; 
The  lake's  black  waves  in  tumult  blend, 
Revolving  o'er  and  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  foamiug  on  the  rocky  (hore, 
Whofe  caverns  echo  to  their  roar. 

The  fight  fublime  enrapts  my  thought, 
And  fwift  along  the  paft  it  ftrays, 
And  much  of  ftrange  event  furveys, 
What  hiftory's  faithful  tongue  has  taught, 
Or  fancy  form'd,  whofe  plaftic  ikill 
The  page  with  fabled  change  can  fill 
Of  ill  to  good,  or  good  to  ill.    .  ,       v 

But  can  my  foul  the  fcene  enjoy, 
That  rends  another's  breaft  with  pain  ? 
O  haplefs  he,  who,  near  the  main, 
Now  fees  its  billowy  rage  deftroy  ! 
Beholds  the  foundering  bark  defcend, 
Nor  knows,  but  what  its  fate  may  end 
The  moments  of  his  deareft  friend  1 

ODE  XXV. 

THE  MELANCHOLY  EVENIN'G. 

O  HASTE,  ye  hovering  clouds  away, 
Ye  clouds  fo  fleecy,  dim,  and  pale, 

Through  which  the  moon's  obftrudled  ray 
Sheds  this  fad  whitenefs  o'er  the  vale  \ 

*  Byzantium:  Conftantinople ;  fubjeft  to  fre 
quent  inflations  of  that  dreadful  fever,  the 
plague. 

f  Alluding  to  the  too  frequent  mi ff.r able  fili 
ation  offrifonert  ofivar,  debtors,  i$c.  ,•  and  the 
abfurd  cujlom  of  burying  in  churches ;  circum- 
Jlances  contributing  treat!}'  to  tbt  propagation  of 
diftafe. 


Forbear,  ye  bells,  that  languid  flrain  ! 
The  fight,  the  found,  are  fraught  with  pain ; 
The  words  of  dying  friends  1  bear, 
The  open  grave  I  linger  near, 
Take  the  laft  look,  and  drop  the  parting  tear ! 

Before  my  view  dire  phairoms  rife, 

The  plagues  of  hapiefs  human-kind  ! 
Pale  fear,  who  unpurlu'd  frill  flies, 

And  ftarts,  and  turns,  and  looks  behind  ; 
Remorfe,  whofe  own  indignant  aim 
Deforms  with  ufelefs  wounds  her  frame  ; 
Defpair,  whofe  tongue  no  fpeech  will  deign, 
Whofe  ghaftly  brow  looks  dark  difdain, 
And   bends  from  fteep  rocks  o'er  the   foaming 
main. 

And  rage,  whofe  bofom  inly  burns, 

While  reafon's  call  he  fcorns  to  hear; 
And  jealoufy,  who  ruthlefs  turns 

From  fuppliant  beauty's  prayer  and  tear; 
Revenge,  whofe  thoughts  tumultuous  roll 
To  feek  the  poniard  or  the  bowl ; 
And  phfenfy,  wildly  pafling  by, 
With  her  chain'd  arm  and  Itarting  eye, 
And  voice  that  wi^h  loud  curfes  rends  the  fky  ! 

Ambition,  here,  to  heights  of  power 

His  courfe  with  daring  ttep  purfues, 
Though  danger's  frown  againft  him  lour, 

Though  guilt  his  path  with  blood  beftrewsj 
There  avarice  grafps  his  ufelefs  ftore, 
Though  mercy's  plaints  his  aid  implore, 
Though  he  her  ruin'd  cottage  nigh, 
Beholds  her  famifh'd  infants  lie, 
And  hears  their  faint,  their  laft  expiring  cry  ! 

i'e  dreadful  band  '.  O  fpare,  O  fpare '. 

Alas,  your  ear  no  prayers  perluade  '. 
But,  ah  !  if  man  your  reign  muft  bear, 

Sure  man  had  better  ne'er  been  made  ! 
Say,  will  religion  clear  this  gloom, 
And  point  to  blifs  beyond  the  tomb  ? 
Yes,  haply  for  her  chofen  train  ; 
The  reft,  they  fay,  fevere  decrees  ordain 
To  realms  of  endlefs  night,  and  everlafting  pain  *  . 

ODE  XXVI. 

THE  PLEASANT  EVENING. 

DELIGHTFUL  looks  this  clear,  calm  fky, 
With  Cynthia's  orb  on  high  ! 
Delightful  looks  this  fmooth  green  ground, 
With  fhadows  caft  from  cots  around  ; 
Quick-twinkling  'uftre  decks  the  tide  ; 
And  cheerful  radiance  gently  falls 
On  that  white  town,  and  caftle  walls, 
That  crown  the  fpacious  river's  further  rule. 

And  now  along  the  echoing  hills 
The  night-bird's  ftrain  melodious  trills  ; 

*  The  author  does  not  give  tbefe  as  Us  ownfrtt- 
timenti,  but  merely  fuch  as  the  gloomy  moment  tit' 
fcribed  might  naturally  fvggc ft.  That  the  above 
dreadful  idea  is  adopted  by  a  large  body  of  Chri- 
Jlians,  is  Jiifficicnt  to  authorife  its  ailmiffior.  into  a 
eri,  profejfing  to  faint  the  dark  fide  oft'aingt- 
3  B  iiij 


THE    WORKS    OF   SCOTT. 


And  now  the  erhoing  dale  along 

Soft  flows  the  fhepherd's  tuneful  fong  : 

And  now*,  wide  o  er  the  water  borne, 

The  city's  mingled  murmur  fwells, 

And  lively  change  of  diftant  bells, 

And  varied  warbling  of  the  deep-ton'd  horn. 

Their  influence  calms  the  foften'd  foul, 
The  paflions  feel  their  ftrong  controul : 
While  fancy's  eye,  where'er  it  flrays, 
A  fcene  of  happinefs  furveys  ; 
Through  all  the  various  walks  of  life 
No  natural  ill  nor  moral  fees, 
No  famine  fell,  nor  dire  difeafe, 
Nor  war's  infernal  unrelenting  ftrife. 

For  thefe,  behold  a  heavenly  band 
Their  white  wings  waving  o'er  the  land  ! 
Sweet  innocence,  a  cherub  fair, 
And  peace  and  joy,  a  fifter  pair: 
And  kindnefs  mild,  their  kindred  grace, 
Whofe  brow  fcrene  complacence  weais, 
Whofe  hand  her  liberal  bounty  bears 
O'er  the  vaft  range  of  animated  i'pace  ! 

Bleft  vifion  !  O  for  ever  ftay  ! 
O  far  be  guilt  and  pain  away  ! 
And  yet,  perhaps,  with  him,  whofe  view 
Looks  at  one  glance  creation  through, 
To  general  good  our  partial  ill 
Seems  but  a  fand  upon  the  plain, 
Seems  but  a  drop  amid  the  main, 
And  feme  wife  unknown  purpofe  may  fulfil. 

ODE  XXVII. 
AFTER  READING  AKENSIDE'S  POEMS. 

To  fancy's  view  what  vifions  rife, 

Remote  amid  yon  azure  fkies  ! 

"What  goddefs-form  defcends  in  air  ? 

The  Grecian  mufe,  feverely  fair  ! 

"What  fage  is  he,  to  whom  fhe  deigns 

Her  lyre  of  elevated  ftrains  ? 

The  bard  of  Tync — his  mailer  hand 

Awakes  new  mufic  o'er  the  land ; 

And  much  his  voice  of  right  and  wrong 

Attempts  to  teach  the  unheeding  throng. 


What  mean  thofe  cryflal  rocks  ferene, 
Thole  laureate  groves  tor  ever  green, 
Thofe  Parian  domes  ? — Sublime  retreats, 
Of  freedom's  1'ons  the  happy  fcats ! — 
There  dwell  the  few  who  dar'd  difdain 
The  luft  of  power  and  luft  of  gain  ; 
The  patriot  names  of  old  renown'd, 
And  thofe  in  later  ages  found  ; 
The  Athenian,  Spartan,  Roman  boaft, 
The  pride  of  Britain's  fea-girt  coaft ! 

But,  oh  !  what  darknefs  intervenes ! 
But,  oh !  beneath,  what  different  fcenes ! 
What  matron  (he,  to  grief  refign'd, 
Befide  that  ruin'd  arch  reclin'd  ? 
Her  fons,  who  once  fo  well  could  wield, 
The  warrior-fpear,  the  warrior  fhield, 
A  turban'd  ruffian's  fcourge  conilrain* 
To  toil  on  defolated  plains  !— 

And  fhe  who  leans  that  column  nigh, 
Where  trampled  arms  and  eagles  lie  ; 
Whofe  veil  effays  her  blufh  to  hide, 
Who  checks  the  tear  that  haftes  to-  glide  ? 
A  mitred  pricll's  oppreffive  fway 
She  fees  her  drooping  race  obey : 
Their  vines  uuprun'd,  their  fields  untill'd, 
Their  flreets  with  want  and  mifery  till'd. 

And  who  is  fhe,  the  martial  maid 
Along  that  cliff  fo  carelefs  laid, 
Whole  brow  luch  laugh  unmeaning  wears, 
Whofe  eye  fuch  infolence  declares, 
Whofe  tongue  defcants,  with  fcorn  fo  vain, 
On  flaves  of  Ebro  or  ef  Seine  ? 
What  griefly  Churl  *,  what  harlot  boldf, 
Behind  her,  chains  enormous  hold  ? 
Though  virtue's  warning  voice  be  near, 
Alas,  fhe  will  not,  will  not  hear ! 
And  now  fhe  finks  in  fleep  profound, 
And  now  they  bind  her  to  the  ground. 

O  what  is  he,  his  ghaftly  form, 
So  half  obfcur'd  in  cloud  and  ftorm, 
Swift  ftriding  on  f  ? — beneath  his  ftrides 
Proud  empire's  firmed  bafe  fubfides; 
Behind  him  dreary  waftes  remain, 
Oblivion's  dark  chaotic  reign ! 

*  Avarice.          \  Luxury.          \  Ruin. 


THE  MEXICAN  PROPHECY :  AN  ODE. 


DE  SoUs,  in  his  Hiftoryof  the  Conquefl  of  Mexico,  informs  us,  that,  on  the  approach  of  Cortez  to 
the  neighbourhood  of  that  city,  the  Emperor  Montezuma  lent  a  number  of  magicians  to  attempt 
the  deOruftion  of  the  Spanifh  army.  As  the  Ibrcerers  were  pra&ifing  their  incantations,  a  demon 
appeared  to  them  in  the  form  of  their  idol  1  kutlepuca,  and  foretold  the  fall  of  the  Mexican  empire. 
On  this  legend  is  founded  the  following  poem.  The  conqueft  of  Mexico  was  undertaken  from  mo 
tives  of  avarice,  and  accompanied  with  circumftances  of  cruelty;  but  it  produced  the  fubverfion  of 
a  tyrannical  government,  and  the  abolition  of  a  detellable  religioii  of  horrid  rites  and  human  facrifices. 

FROM  Cholula's  hoflile  plain 


Left  her  treacherous  legions  flain, 

*    Choluta   -:vas  a  large   city,   not  for  dijlant  from 
Rlcxico.   The  inhabitants  were  in  league  ivitb  tbejtfcxi- 


Left  her  temples  all  in  flame, 
Cortes'  conquering  army  came. 

cans;  and  aftc  r  prof  effing frhndfbip  fcr  the  Spaniard's , 
endeavoured  tofurfrife  and  dcjlroy  tfifm. 


ODES. 


High  on  Chalco's  ftbrmy  deep 
Shone  their  phalanx  broad  and  deep ; 
High  the  Hilpanian  banner  rais'd, 
Bore  the  crofs  in  gold  emblaz'd  *. 
Thick  the  gleaming  fpears  appear'd, 
Loud  the  neighing  Heeds  were  heard ; 
Flafli'd  the  mufkets  lightnings  round, 
Roll'd  their  thunders  o'er  the  ground, 
Echo'd  from  a  thoufand  caves, 
Down  to  Tenuflitan's  waves —  f ; 
Spacious  lake,  that  far  below 
Bade  its  lucid  level  flow  :  - 

There  the  ever-funny  fhore 
Groves  of  palm  and  coco  bore  ; 
Maize-fields  rich,  favannas  green, 
Stretch'd  around,  with  towns  between. 
Tacuba,  Tezeuco  fair, 
Rear'd  their  fhiniug  roofs  in  air; 
Mexico's  imperial  pride 
Glitter'd  'midft  the  glaffy  tide, 
Bright  with  gold,  with  filver  bright, 
Dazzling,  charming  all  the  fight  J. 
From  their  poft  the  war-worn  baud 
Raptur'd  view'd  the  happy  land : 
'  Hafte  to  victory,  hafte  to  eafe, 
'  Mark  the  fpot  that  gives  us  thefe ! 

On  the  exulting  heroes  ftrode, 
Shwnn'd  the  froooth  infidious  road, 
Shunn'd  the  rock's  impending  (hade, 
Shunn'd  the  expecting  ambulcade  j| . 

Beep  within  a  gloomy  wood 
Motezume's  magicians  flood  : 
Tlcatlepuca's  horrid  form, 
God  of  famine,  plague  and  ftorm, 
High  on  magic  nones  they  rais'd ; 
Magic  fires  before  himblaz'd; 
Round  the  lurid  flames  they  drew, 
Flames  whence  fleams  of  fulphur  flew ; 
There,  while  bleeding  victims  Imok'd, 
Thus  his  aid  they  loud  invok'd  : 

*  Minifter  fupreme  of  ill, 
Prompt  to  punifli,  prompt  to  kill, 
Motezuma  aflcs  thy  aid  ! 
Foreign  foes  his  realms  invade ; 
Vengeance  on  the  ftrangers  fhed, 
Mix  them  inftant  with  the  dead ! 
By  thy  temple's  fable  floor, 

By  thy  alcar  flain'd  with  gore, 

Stain'd  with  gore  and  flrew'd  with  bones, 

Echoing  fhrieks,  and  echoing  groans ! 

Vengeance  on  the  ftrangers  Ihed, 

Mix  them  inilant  with  the  dead  !' 

*  The  de-vice  en    Cartel's  Jlandard  -a/as  thefign  of 
tie  crofs.— Vide  De  Solis. 

•j-  Tenujlitan,  other-wife  Tenucbtitlan,  the  ancient 
name  of  the  Lake  of  Mexico. 

\  The  Spanift  biflorians  ajjert,  that  the  -walls  and 
faoufes  of  the  Indian  cities  -were  cornpofed  of  a  peculiar 
kind  of  gl  tteringjlcne  or  plajler,  -which  at  a  dijttuttt  re- 
fembledjil-uer. 

||  The  Indians  bad  blocked  up  the  tifual  road  to  Mexi 
co,  and  opened  another  broader,  andfmootb  at  the  entrance, 
kut  ivhich  led  among  rods  and  precipices,  -where  they 
had  placed  parties  in  ambujb.  Cortes  difco-vered  thejlra- 
tagem,  and  ordered  his  troops  to  remove  the  obJJrticiions. 
Being  ajked  hy  the  Mexican  ambajjadars  ibe  reafon  of 
this  procedure,  he  replied,  that  the  Spaniards  aj-u-ajs 
cboft  to  encounter  difficulties. 


Ordaz  heard,  Velafquez  heard— 
Swift  their  fauchiens'  blaze  appcar'd; 
Alvarado  rufljing  near, 
Furious  rais'd  his  glittering  fpear ; 
Calm,  Olmedo  mark'd  the  fcenc  *, 
Calm  he  mark'd,  and  ftepp'd  between : 
'  Vain  their  rites  and  vain  their  prayer, 
'  Weak  attempts  beneath  your  care  ; 
1  Warriors  !  let  the  wretches  live  1 
'  Chrillians  !  pity,  and  forgive  !' 
Sudden  darknefs  e'er  them  fpread, 
Glow'd  the  woods  with  duflcy  red ; 
Vaft  the  idol's  ftature  grew, 
Look'd  his  face  of  ghaftly  hue, 
Frowning  rage,  and  frowning  hate, 
Angry  at  his  nation's  fate; 
Fierce  his  fiery  eyes  he  roll'd, 
Thus  his  tongue  the  future  told ; 
Cortes'  veterans  paus'd  to  hear, 
Wondering  all,  though  void  of  fear ; 

'  Mourn,  devoted  city,  mourn ! 

Mourn,  devoted  city,  mourn  ! 

Doom'd  for  all  thy  crimes  to  know 

Scenes  of  battle,  fcenes  of  woe  ! 

Who  is  he— O  fpare  the  fight  !-— 

Rob'd  in  gold,  with  jewels  bright  ? 

Hark  !  he  deigns  the  crowd  te  call ; 

Chiefs  and  warriors  proftrate  fall  f . 

Reverence  now  to  fury  yields ; 

Strangers  o'ej  him  fpread  your  ftields! 

Thick  the  darts,  the  arrows,  fly ; 

Haplefs  monarch  !  he  muft  die ! 

Mark  the  folemn  funeral  ftatc, 

Faffing  through  the  weflern  gate ! 

Chapultequas  cave  contains 

Mighty  Motezume's  remains. 

'  Ceafe  the  ftrife  !  alas,  'tis  vain  '. 

Myriads  throng  Otumba's  plain ; 

Wide  their  feathery  crefts  they  wave, 

All  the  ftrong  and  all  the  brave  \. 

Gleaming  glory  through  the  flues, 

See  the  imperial  ftandard  flies '. 

Down  by  force  refiftlefs  torn  ; 

Off  in  haughty  triumph  borne. 

Slaughter  heaps  the  vale  with  dead, 

Fugitives  the  mountains  fpread. 

'  Mexico,  'tis  thine  to  know 

More  of  battle,  more  of  woe  I— 
Bright  in  arms  the  ftranger  train 

O'er  thy  caufeways  move  again. 

*  Bartbolcme  de  Olmedo,  chaplain  to  Cortes :  It 
feems  to  have  been  a  man  of  enlarged  ideas,  much  fru- 
dence,  moderation,  and  humanity. 

•j-  Motezuma,  tvbo  teas  refidcnt  in  the  Spanijb 
quarters  -when  they  -were  attacked  by  the  Mexicans,  fro- 
pofed  Jkoti'ing  himfetfto  the  people,  in  order  to  aptejfe 
the  tumult.  At  bisjirjl  appearance  he  -was  regatded 
ivith  veneration,  -which  -was  foon  exchanged  for  rage,  to 
the  efftfts  -whereof  be  fell  a  vi£iim. 

\  Cortes,  in  his  retreat  from  Mexico,  after  tbt  death 
of  Motezuma,  iv  as  followed  andfurrotinded  by  the  -whole 
collective  force  of  the  empire,  in  ibe  plains  of  Otumba. 
After  repelling  the  attacks  of  bis  enemies  on  every  fide, 
with  ind.fatigable  -valour,  he  found  bimfelf  o-verpo-wered 
by  numbers  ;  ivben,  making  one  defperate  effort,  iviib  a 
fe-wfde£i  jriends,  beftized  the  imperial jlan^ard)  kiiltd, 
tbt  genet  aii  and  routed  the  army. 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


c  Bend  the  bow,  the  fhaft  prepare, 

'  Join  the  breaftplate's  folds  with  care ; 

'  Raife  the  facrificial  fire, 

*  Bid  the  captive  youths  expire  *  ; 

'  Wake  the  facred  trumpet's  breath, 
'  Pouring  anguifh,  pouring  death -f  ; 

*  Troops  from  every  ftreet  repair, 
'  Clofe  them  in  the  fatal  fnare ; 

*  Valiant  as  they  are,  they  fly, 

'  Here  they  yield,  and  there  they  die. 
'  Ceafe  the  ftrife  !  'tis  fruitlefs  all, 
«  Mexico  at  laft  muft  fall! 

*  Lo  !  the  danntlefs  band  return, 
'  Furious  for  the  fight  they  burn  ! 
'  Lo  !  auxiliar  nations  round, 

'  Crowding  o'er  the  darken'd  ground ! 

*  Corfes  fill  thy  trenches  deep ; 
c  Down  thy  temple's  lofty  fteep 

'  See  thy  priefts,  thy  princes  thrown— 
'  Hark  !  I  hear  their  parting  groan  ! 

*  Blood  thy  lake  with  crimfon  dyes, 
'  Flames  from  all  thy  domes  arife  ! 

*  What  are  thofe  that  round  thy  fhore 
c  Launch  thy  troubled  water's  o'er  ? 

'  Swift  canoes  that  from  the  fight  • 

'  Aid  their  vanquifh'd  monarch's  flight; 

*  De  Solis  relates,  tbat  the  Mexicans  faertficed  to 
tLcir  idols  a  number  of  Spaniards ,  tvbom  tbey  bad  taken 
prifoners,  and  ivbofe  cries    and  groans   ti-fre   diftincJIy 
beard  in  the  Spanijb  camp,  exciting  fentimentr  of  horror 
and  revenge  in  their  furwving  companions. 

f  Tbe  above  author  cbfer-vei  tbat  tbe  facred  trumpet 
of  tbe  Mexicans  tvat  fo  called,  becaitf:  it  ivas  not  per 
mitted  to  any  but  tbe  priejls  to  found  it ;  and  that  only 
tvben  tbey  denounced  -war,  and  animated  tL:  people  on 
tbe  part  oftbeirgods. 


Ambufti'd  in  the  reedy  fhade, 

Them  the  ftranger  barks  invade ; 

Soon  thy  lord  a  captive  bends, 

Soon  thy  far-fam'd  empire  ends  *  ; 

Otomeca  fharesthy  fpoils, 

Tlafcala  in  triumph  fmiles  f . 

Mourn,  devoted  city,  mourn  ! 

Mourn,  devoted  city,  mourn ! 

'  Ceafc  your  boaft,  O  ftranger  band, 

Conquerors  of  my  fallen  land ! 

Avarice  ftrides  your  van  before, 

Phantom  meagre,  pale,  and  hoar  ! 

Difcord  follows,  breathing  flame, 

Still  oppofing  claim  to  claim  J  ; 

Kindred  demons  hafle  along  ! 

Hafte,  avenge  my  country's  wrong  !* 

Ceas'd  the  voice  with  dreadful  founds. 
Loud  as  tides  that  burft  their  bounds  ; 
Roll'd  the  form  in  fnioke  away, 
Amaz'd  on  earth  the  exorcifts  lay  ; 
Pondering  on  the  dreadful  lore, 
Their  courfe  the  Iberians  downward  bore  ; 
Their  helmets  glittering  o'er  the  vale, 
And  wide  their  enfigns  fluttering  in  the  gale. 


*  When  the  Spaniards  bad  forced  their  -atay  ta  tbe 
centre  of  Mexico,  Guatimozin,  tbe  reigning  fmpertr,  en 
deavoured  to  efcape  in  bis  canoes  acrof*  tie  lake  ;  tut 
•was  purfuni  and  taken  prifontr  ly  Garcia  de  Holguin, 
captain  of  one  of  tbe  Spanijb  brigantines. 

j-  Tbe  Otomies  -were  a  fierce,  fa-y age  nation,  never 
thoroughly  fubdued  by  tbe  Mexicans.  Tlc/lala  ivas  a 
powerful  neighbouring  repuilk,  tbt  rival  (f  Mexico. 

|  Alluding  to  the  diffentions  ivbicb  enjucd  ameng  tic 
Spaniards,  after  the  conquejl  of  America. 


EPISTLES. 


EPISTLE  I. 

THE    GARDEN. 
To  a  Friend1. 

F*ov  Whitby's  rocks  fteep  rifing  o'er  the  main, 
From  Eflca's  vales,  or  Ewecofe's  lonely  plain, 
Say  rove  thy  thoughts  to  Amweli's  diftant  bow'rs, 
To  mark  how  pafs  thy  friends  fequefler'd  hours  ? 

•  Perhaps,'  think'ft  thou,  '  he  faeks  his  pleafing 

'  fcenes 
'  Of  winding  \valks,   fmooth    lawns,  and  faady 

greens : 

Where  China's  willow  hangs  its  foliage  fair, 
And  Fo's  tal!  poplar  waves  its  top  in  air, 
And  the  dark  maple  fpreads  its  umbrage  wide, 
And  the  \vhitc  bench  adorns' the  bafon  fide  ; 
At  morn  reclin'd,  perhaps,  he  fits  to  view 
The  bank's  neat  flope,  the  water's  filver  hue. 


c  Where,  'midfl  thick  oaks,  the  fubterraneous  way 

'  To  the  arch'd  grot  admits  a  feeble  ray  ; 

'  Where  gloffy  pebbles  pave  the  varied  floors, 

'  And  rough  flint-walls  are  deck'd  with  fhclls  and 

'  ores, 

'  And  filvery  pearls,  fpread  o'er  the  roofs  on  high, 
'  Glimmer  like  faint  flars  in  a  twilight  Iky  ; 
'  From  noon's  fierce  glare,  perhaps,  he  pleas'd  re- 

'  tires, 

'  Indulging  minings  which  the  place  infpires. 
'  Now  where  the  airy  odlagon  afcends, 
'  And  wide  the  profpecl  o'er  the  vale  extends, 
'  "Mid'ft  evening's  calm,  intent  perhapi  he  ftands, 
'  And  looks  o'er  all  that  length  of  fun-gilt  lands, 
'  Of  bright  green  paflures,  flretch'd  by  rivers  clear, 
'  And  willow  groves,  or  ofier  iflands  near.' 

Aks,  my  friend,  how  ftrangely  men  miflake, 
Who  guefs  what  others  moft  their  pleafure  make  ! 
Thcfe  garden  fcenes,  which -fafhion  o'er  our  plains 
Spreads  rcsnd  the  villas  of  our  wealthy  fwaias, 


EPISTLES. 


Though  envy  grudge,  or  (riendfhip  wifh  to  ftiare, 
They  claim  but  little  of  their  owners'  care. 

For  me,  my  groves  not  oft  my  fteps  invite, 
And  far  lefs  oft  they  fail  to  offend  my  fight : 
In  vain  the  fenna  waves  its  glofly  gold, 
In  vain  the  ciftus'  fpottcd  flowers  unfold, 
In  vain  the  acacia's  fnowy  bloom  depends, 
In  vain  the  fumuch's  fcarlet  fpike  alcends, 
In  Tain  the  woodbine's  fpicy  tnfts  dilclofe, 
And  green  flopes  redden  with  the  fhedding  rofe : 
Thefe  neat-fhorn  hawthorns  ufelefs  verdant  bound 
This  long  ftraight   walk,  that  pools  unmeaning 

round, 
Thefe  fhort-curv'd  paths  that  twift  beneath  the 

trees, 

Difguft  the  eye,  and  make  the  whole  difpleafe. 
'  No  fcene  like  this,'  I  fay,  '  did  nature  raife, 
'  Brown's  fancy  form,  or  Walpole's  *  judgment 

'  praife ; 

'  No  prototype  for  this  did  I  funrey 
*  In  Woollen's  landfcapes  f ,  or  in  Mafon's  lay.' 
But  might  thy  genius,  friend,  an  Eden  frame, 
Profufe  of  beauty,  and  fecure  from  blame  ; 
Where  round  the  lawn  might  wind  the    varied 

way, 

Now  loft  in  gloom,  and  now  with  profpe<ft  gay  ; 
Now  fcreen'd  with  clumps  of  green,  for  wint'ry 

bow'rs ; 

Now  edg'd  with  funny  banks,  for  fummer  flow'rs; 
Now  led  by  cryftal  lakes  with  lilies  dreft, 
Or  where  light  temples  court  the  ftep  to  reft— 
Times  gradual  change,  or  tempeft's  fudden  rage, 
There  with  thy  peace  perpetual  war  would  wage. 
That  tyrant  oak,  whofe  arms  fo  far  o'ergrow, 
Shades  fome  poor  fhrub  that  pines  with  drought 

below; 

Thefe  rampant  elms,  thofe  hazels  branching  wide, 
Crowd  the  broad  pine,  the  fpiry  larix  hide. 
That  lilac  brow,  where  May's  unfparing  hand 
Bade  one  vaft  fwell  of  purple  bloom  expand, 
Soon  paft  its  prime,  fhows  figns  of  quick  decay, 
The  naked  ftem,  and  fcanty-cover'd  fpray. 
Fierce  Boreas  calls,  and  ruin  waits  his  call; 
Thy  fair  catalpa's  broken  branches  fall ; 
Thy  foft  magnolia  mourns  her  blafted  green, 
And  blighted  laurel's  yellowing  leaves  are  feen. 
But  difcontent  alone,  thoul't  fay,  complains 
For  ill  fuccefs,  where  none  perfection  gains : 
True  is  the  charge  ;  but  from  that  tyrant's  fway 
What  art,  what  power,  can  e'er  redeem  our  day  ? 
To  me,  indeed,  fhort  cafe  he  fometimes  yields, 
When  my  lone  walk  furrounds  the  rural  fields; 
There  no  paft  errors  of  my  own  upbraid, 
No  time,  no  wealth,  expended  unrepaid  : 
There  nature  dwells,  and  throws  profufe  around 
Each  paftoral  fight  and  every  paftoral  found  ; 
From  fpring's  green  copfe,  that  pours  the  cuckoo's 

ftrain, 
And  evening  bleatings  of  the  fleecy  train, 

*  Si-e  Mr.  Walpole's  ingenious  IJ'ijlory  of  Modern 
Tajle  in  Gardening,  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  i-olume  of 
bis  Anecdotes  of  Painting. 

•f-   The  above-named  excellent  arti/t,fc"veralv;ars  a«o, 
dretv  and  engraved  a  number  of  beau! ijul -ule-Mi  in  Jin: 
tiltbraltl  modem 


To  autumn's  yellow  field  and  clamorous  horn  * 
That  wakes  the  Cumbering  harvefters  at  morn. 
There  fancy  too,  with  fond  delighted  eyes, 
Sees  o'er  the  fcene  ideal  people  rife ; 
There  calm  contentment,  in  his  cot  reclin'd, 
Hears  the  gray  poplars  whifper  in  the  wind ; 
There  love's  Iweet  fong  adown  the  echoing  dale 
To  beauty's  ear  conveys  the  tender  tale ; 
And  there  devotion  lifts  his  brow  to  heaven, 
With  grateful  thanks  for  many  a  blefilng  given. 

Thus  oft  through  Maylan's  fhady  lane  J  ftray, 
Trace  Rufhgreen's  paths,  or  Poftwood's  winding 

way; 

Thus  oft  to  Eaftfield's  airy  height  I  hafte  ; 
(All  well-known  fpots    thy  feet  have  frequent 

trac'd  !) 

While  memory,  as  my  fight  around  I  caft, 
Suggefts  the  pleafing  thought  of  moments  paft  ; 
Or  hope,  amid  the  future,  forms  again 
The  dream  of  blifs  experience  broke  in  vain. 

EPISTLE  II. 

WINTER  AMUSEMENTS  IN  TUF  CODNTKST. 
To  a  friend  in  London* 

WHILE  thee  my  friend,  the  city's  fcenes  detain,— 
The   cheerful  fcenes    where  trade   and  pleufurc 

reign ; 

Where  glittering  (hops  their  varied  ftores  difplay, 
And  pafling  thoufands  crowd  the  public  way ; 
Where  paintings  forms  and  mufic's  founds  delighr, 
And  fafhions  frequent  novelties  invite, 
And  converfations  fober  focial  hours 
Engage  the  mind,  and  elevate  its  powers — 
Far  different  fcenes  for  us  the  country  yields, 
Deferted  roads  and  unfrequented  fields : 
Yet  deem  not,  lonely  as  they  are,  that  thefe 
Boaft  nought  to  charm  the  eye,  the  ear  to  pleafe. 
Though  here  the  tyrant  winter  holds  command, 
And  bids  rude  tempefts  defolate  the  land ; 
Sometimes  the  fun  extends  his  cheering  beam, 
And  all  the  landfcape  cafts  a  golden  gleam : 
Clear  is  the  fky,  and  calm  and  foft  the  air, 
And  through  thin  mift  each  object  looks  more 

fair. 

Then,  where  the  villa  renrs  its  flickering  grove, 
Along  the  fouthern  lawn  'tis  fwett  to  rove : 
There  dark  green  pines,  behind,  their  boughs  ex 
tend, 

And  bright  fpruce  firs  like  pyramids  afcend, 
And  round  their  tops,  in  many  a  pendant  row, 
Their  fcaly  cones  of  mining  auburn  fhow  ; 
There  the  broad  cedar's  level  branches  fpread, 
And  the  tall  cyprefs  lifts  its  fpi:y  head ; 

*  There  is  a  cufam,  fr.-qu.  nt  in  many  parts  of 
England,  of  calling  tie  barv  Jl-mtn  to  and  frttn  -wort 
ty  tie  found  of  a  born.  Tbii  prafiice,  as  taell  at  flat 
offl?  bari-cft '-jbtuting,  fterxt  much  on  tbe  decline.  Tie 
latter  tould  Loajl  itt  origin  fn/m  bigb  antiquity,  at  ap 
pear  t  from  ibat  beautiful  Jlrokc  rf  E.aficrn  foetry, 
JJaiab,  chap.  xvi.  '  J  «•;'//  -water  tie:  ivitfj  my  teart 
'  0  Hcjbior.  ani  EL-alcb  ;  f-;r  th cj touting ftr  tbyfulH' 
trier  fruits,  and  fir  tby  iar^ff!,  hftMt*!?1 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


With  alaternus  ilex  interweaves, 
And  laurels  mix  their  glofly  oval  leaves ; 
And  gilded  holly  crimfon  fruit  difplays, 
And  white  viburnum  *  o'er  th«  border  drays. 
Where  thefe  from  dorms  the  fpacious  green- 

houfe  fcreen, 

Ev'n  now  the  eye  beholds  a  flow'ry  fcene  ; 
There  cryflal  fafhes  ward   the     irji'in.ijo  1 
And  rows  of  benches  fair  exotics  hold ; 
Rich  plants,  that  Afric's  funny  cape  fupplies, 
Or  o'er  the  ifles  of  cither  India  rile. 

While  ftrip'd  geranium  fhows  its  tufts  of  red, 
And  verdant  myrtles  grateful  fragrance  filed ; 
A  moment  ftay  to  mark  the  vivid  bloom, 
A  moment  flay  to  catch  the  high  perfume, 
And  then  to  rural  fccnes — Yon  path,  that  leads 
Down  the  fleep  burn  and  'crofs  the  level  meads, 
Soon  mounts  the  opponent  hill,  and  foon  conveys 
To  where  the  farm  its  pleafing  group  difplays : 
The  ruftic  manfion's  form,  antiquely  fair  ; 
The  yew-hcdg'd  garden,  with  its  grafs-plat  fquare; 
The  barns  long  ridge,  and  doors  expanded  wide: 
The  ftable's  ftraw-clad  eves  and  clay-built  fide  ; 
The  cartfhed's  roof,  of  rough-hewn  round  wood 

made, 

And  loofe  on  heads  of  old  fere  pollards  laid  ; 
The  granary's  floor  that  fmooth-wrought  pofls 

fudain, 

Where  hungry  vermin  drive  to  climb  in  vain ; 
And  many  an  afh  that  wild  around  them  grows, 
And  many  an  elm  that  fhelter  o'er  them  throws. 
Then  round  the  moat  we  turn,  with  pales  in- 

clos'd, 

And  'midd  the  orchard's  trees  in  rows  difpos'd, 
Whofe  boughs  thick  tufts  of  mifletoe  adorn 
With  fruit  of  lucid  white  on  joints  of  yellow  borne. 

Thence  up  the  lane,  romantic  woods  among, 
Beneath  old  oaks  with  ivy  overhung 
(O'er  their  rough  trunks  the  hairy  italks  intwine, 
And  on  their  arms  the  fable  berries  fhine) : 
Here  oft  the  fight,  OB  banks  bedrewn  with  leaves, 
The  early  primrofe*  opening  bud  perceives ; 
And  oft  deep  dells  or  ragged  cliffs  unfold 
The  prickly  furze  with  bloom  of  brighted  gold ; 
Here  oft  the  redbread  hops  along  the  way, 
And  'midd  grey  mofs  explores  his  infect  prey  ; 
Or  the  green  woodfpite  f  flies  with  outcry  fhrill, 
And  delves  the  fere  bough  with  his  founding  bill ; 
Or  the  rous'd  hare  darts  rudling  from  the  brake, 
And  gaudy  jays  inceflant  clamour  make; 
Or  echoing  hills  return  from  dubbles  nigh 
The  fportfman's  gun,  and  fpaniel's  yelping  cry. 

And  now  the  covert  ends  in  open  ground, 
That  fpreads  wide  views  beneath  us  all  around  ; 
There  turbid  waters,  edg'd  with  yellow  reeds, 
Roll  through  the  ruffet  herd-forfaken  meads ; 
There  from  the  meads  th'  enclofures  doping  rife, 
And  'midd  th'  enclofures,  dufky  woodland  lies ; 
While  pointed  fpires  and  curling  fmokes, between, 
Maik  towns  and  vills  and  cottages  unfeen. 
And  now,  for  now  the  breeze  and  noontide  ray 
Clear  the  lad  remnants  of  the  mid  away,— 


*    Tfat  trfet-btntm  beautiful  jlotuering  evergreen, 
tomvonly  called  I^aurujlinus 

t  Th:  Green  WuoJpe  ter. — Vide  Pennant's  Bri- 
tiih  Zoology,  folio,  p.  78. 


Far,  far  o'er  all  extends  the  aching  eye, 
Where  azure  mountains  mingle  with  the  Iky: 
To  thefe  the  curious  optic  tube  apply'd 
Reveals  each  object:  didance  elfe  would  hide ; 
Their  feats  or  homedeads,  plac'd  in  plcafant  {hades, 
Show  their  white  walls  and  windows  through  the 

glades; 

There  rears  the  hamlet  church  its  hoary  tow'r 
(The  clock's  bright  index  points  the  pafiing  hour); 
There  green-rob'd  huntfmen  o'er  the  funny  lawn 
Lead  home  their  beagles  from  the  chafe  with 
drawn,  [paigH, 
And  ploughs  flow  moving  turn  the  broad  chain- 
And  on  deep  fummits  feed  the  fleecy  train. 

But  wintry  months  few  days  like  thefe  fupply, 
And  their  few  moments  far  too  fwiftly  fly  : 
Dank  thaws,  chill  fogs,  rough  winds,  and  beating 

rain, 

To  flickering  rooms  th'  unwilling  dep  detain ; 
Yet  there,  my  friend,  fliail  liberal  fcience  find 
Amufement  various  for  th'  inquiring  mind. 

While  hidory's  hand  her  fanguine  record  brings, 
With  woes  of  nations  fraught,  and  crimes  of  kings  ; 
Plague"  thins  the  dreet,and  famine  bladsthe  plain, 
War  wields  his  fword,  oppreflion  binds  his  chain ; 
Curiofity  purfues  the  unfolding  tale, 
Which  reafon  blames,  and  pity's  tears  bewail. 

While  fancy's  powers  the  eventful  novel  frame. 
And  virtues  care  directs  its  condant  aim ; 
As  fiction's  pen  domedic  life  portrays, 
Us  hopes,  and  fears,  and  joys,  and  griefs  difplays ; 
By  Grandifon's  or  Clinton's  *  dory  mov'd, 
We  read  delighted,  and  we  rife  improv'd. 

Then  with  bold  voyagers  our  thought  explores 
Vad  tracts  of  ocean  and  untrodden  fhores ; 
Now  views  rude  climes,  where  ice-rocks  drear 

afpire, 

Or  red  volcanos  moot  their  dreams  of  fire : 
Now  feeks  fweet  ifles,  where  lofty  palm-groves 

wave, 

And  cany  banks  tranflucent  rivers  lave ; 
Where  plenty's  gifts  luxuriant  load  the  foil, 
And  eafe  repofes,  charm'd  with  beauty's  fmile. 
Such,  haplefs  Cook  f  !  amid  the  fouthern  main, 
Rofe  thy  Ta-heite's  peaks  and  flowery  plain  ;— 
Why,  daring  wanderer  !  quit  that  blifsful  land, 
To  leek  new  dangers  on  a  barbarous  drand  ? 
Why  doom'd,fo  long  efcap'd  from  dorms  and  foes, 
Upon  that  drand  thy  dying  eyes  to  clofe  ; 
Remote  each  place  by  habit  render'd  dear, 
Nor  Britidi  friends  nor  Otaheitean  near  ? 

Nor  lefs  than  books  the  engraver's  works  invite, 
Where  pad  and  didant  come  before  the  fight ; 
Where,  all  the  painter's  lively  tints  convey'd, 
The  fkilful  copyid  gives  in  light  and  fhade : 
While  faithful  views  the  profpect's  charms  difplay, 
From  coad  to  coaft,  and  town  to  town,  we  dray  ; 
While  faithful  portraits  human  features  trace, 
We  gaze  delighted  on  the  fpeaking  face  ; 
Survey  the  port  that  bards  and  heroes  bore, 
Or  mark  the  fmiles  that  high-born  beauties  wore. 

*  Vide  lie  Fool  of  Duality,  a  "well-known  novsl 
by  Mr  Henry  1'rcoie,  attkor  f  Gujlivus  Fafat  &C, 

f  Tlit  celebrated  circumnavigator,  aftc'  furmount- 
itig  numerous  difficulties,  and  efcafing  many  dangert, 
•was  at  length  jlain  by  tie  inhabitants  of  Qvilybee^  a 
little  i/land  in  tie  Pacific  Ocean. 


EPISTLES. 


7*5 


Ceafe  thefe  to  pkafe  ?  philofophy  attends 
With  arts  where  knowledge  with  diverfion  blends; 
The  fun's  vaft  fyftem  in  a  model  fliows; 
Bids  tht  clear  lens  new  forms  to  fight  expofe ; 
Conitruds  machines,    whofe    wond'rous  powers 

declare 

The  effects  of  light,  and  properties  of  air ; 
With  whirling  globes  excites  electric  fires, 
And  all  their  force  and  all  their  uic  inquires. 
O  nature  !  how  immenfe  thy  fecret  (lore, 
Beyond  what  ev'n  a  PrieflJey  can  explore  ! 


Such,    friend,  the  employments  may  his  time 

divide, 

Whom  rural  {hades  from  fcenes  of  bufinels  hide  ; 
While  »'er  his  ear  unnotic'd  glide  away 
The  noife  and  nonfenfe  of  the  paffing  day  * 

*  AJlcrt  rfiftlt,  partly  en  toe  fame  flan  as  the  fore* 
<rzir.g  "ocas,  fame  \tars  ogo,  inadvertently  fuffctcd  to  ap 
pear  in  a  colitfJiou  of  poems ,  by  fevrral  hand's,  fuilijked 
by  G.  Pearcb.*—  Such  lines  of  tbjt  piece  as  u-crr  tiugbi 
v.-artb  pref:r*eat'uin,  are  Lfn  retained. 


AN  ESSAY  ON  PAINTING. 


TO  A  YOUNG  ARTIST. 


The  author  had  conceived  a  defign  of  writing  a  pretty  extenfive  poem  on  the  fubjecl  of  painting,  long 
before  Mr.  Hayley's  ingenious  "  Poetic  Epiftle  to  an  eminent  painter"  appeared.  That  p- rform- 
ance  anticipated  and  precluded  part  of  his  intended  work,  but  Itemed  not  to  render  the  fuppredon 
of  the  following  lines  neceffary. 


FROM  funny  Adria's fea-furrounded  towers, 
From  Tyber's  vales  and  Arno's  viny  bowers, 
The  mufe  of  painting  fecks  Britannia'*  plain, 
And  leads  to  Thames'sbank  her  favourite  train  : 
There,   where  a  nation's  wealth  her  dome  has 

plac'd, 

With  her  kind  fitter's  *  Attic  beauties  grac'd, 
She,  like  the  fpring,  as  liberal  and  as  gay, 
Bids  her  rich  hand  its  annual  ftores  difplay ; 
And  mimic  being  glowing  round  the  walls, 
From  fcene  to  fcene  the  rapt  attention  calls. 
There,  where  the  public  gives  the  palm  of  praife, 
And  only  merit  to  renown  can  raife, 
Doubtlefs,  my  friend,  the  juft  ambition's  thine 
To  fee  thy  future  vrorks  diftinguifh'd  fhine. 
H«ar  then  thy  poet's  monitory  lay, 
That  hints  not  ufelefs  may  perchance  convey  : 
No  artift  I,  like  him  of  Gallia's  fhoref, 
Whofe  pencil  pradtis'd,  ere  he  taught  1  is  lore; 
Yet  t^fte  incites  me  others'  works  to  view, 
And  rifle  a  judgment  haply  not  untrue 

Were  painting's  path  my  pleafing  road  to  fame, 
The  choice  of  fubjeci  much  my  care  ihould  claim  ; 
His  graphic  power  he  fure  but  ill  beftows, 
Who  boft  a  trifle's  nice  refemblance  fhows. 
Though  the  rich  tints  fo  finely  blended  fall, 
When  carps  and  pheafants  deck  the  rural  hall, 
That  oft,  like  Zeuxis*  grapes,  they  fcarcely  fail, 
To  tempt  to  touch  the  feather  or  the  fcale, — 
Yet  cot  ev'a  Elmer's  j  {kill  can  make  us  prize 
What  every  field  or  every  pond  fupplics ; 

•  Arclittflurc. 

f  C.  A.  Du  Frefnoy,  a  -well  tnovcn  Trench  painter ; 
anther  of  a  Latin  f  ton,  De  Arte  Graftica. 

$  The  author  mujl  hire  once  for  all  remark^  that 
•whatever  be  at  ay  fay  refpefiingfbe  -works  of  any  paint 
er,  it  jolely  the  refult  sf  impartial,  tbcugb  pcjjlliy 
miflalen  ofinhn.  He  cannot  be  ml/led  by  friendjbip  ; 
for,  excepting  a  Jl'gbt  acquaint  ante  -u;itb  tLofe  amiable 
characters,  Mr.  Wei  end  Mrs.  Kaufman,  be  bat 
not  the  plesfure  cf  tn.iL-ing  any  arty  vbefe  rant 
be  tat  taJeca  tie  liitriy  to  mention. 


Regret  gives  pain  to  view  fuch  wonderous  art 
Tried  on  no  theme  that  interefls  the  heart. 

The  pride  of  genius  Ihould  thy  hand  reftrain 
From  all  that  life's  inferior  ranks  contain  *  ; 
Thy  confcious  pallet  ne'er  its  hues  ftould  fpare 
To  draw  a  fportfman's  hound  or  racer's  mare  ; 
Nor  thy  reluctant  crayon  ftoop  to  trace 
A  fool's  dull  eye  or  villain's  ill-mark'd  face. 

But  deem  not  portrait's  gifts  1  mean  to  flighty- 
Portrait,  the  fource  of  many  a  pure  delight ! 
When  bards'  or  fages  works  our  wilh.es  fire 
To  fee  their  forms  whofe  minds  we  there  admire, 
The  featur'd  canvas  full  to  view  difplays 
Reafon's  deep  calm  or  fancy's  glowing  rays. 
When  beauty's  charms  their  varied  graces  wear, 
Love's  gentle  Guile,  or  mirth's  vivacious  air, 
The  pleafing  image  ftrikes  renioteft  climes, 
And  goes  unalter'd  down  to  diflant  times. 
When  death's  relentlefs  hand  in  duft  has  laid 
The  fchool-companion,  or  the  firft-lov'd  maid; 
The  father  kind,  with  filial  awe  rever'd ; 
The  tender  mother  by  her  cares  cndear'd ; 
When  from  our  arms  the  darling  child  is  torn, 
Or  when  the  hufband  or  the  wife  we  mourn— 
As  on  their  picture  many  a  glance  we  caft, 
Remembrance  wanders  to  the  vanifli'd  paft  ; 
Our  thoughts  o'er  numberlefs  minutiae  roll, 
And  pain-mix'd  plcafure  folaces  the  foul. 
To  portrait's  ftudy  fhould  thy  choice  incline, 
Ev'n  there  to  aim  at  excellence  be  thine ; 
And  flrive  to  reach  the  point  that  few  can  gain, 
Preferve  the  iikenefs,  yet  the  fp'rit  retain. 

Of  landfcape's  province  wide  extends  the  range, 
From  the  deep  vale,  and  humble  rural  grange, 
To  Cambrian  heaths  fublimely  brown  and  bare  f , 
Or  Alpine  ice-points  glittering  white  in  air : 

*  Tilt  it  meant  only  offucb  iljeSs,  -wben  cotijtder- 
edas  tbe  principal  fubjeS  of  a  pi3-re.  Jlmcjl  every 
clafs  of  animals  may  be  occajivnally  introduced  at  erna- 
jr.zuts  in  landfcafe,  and  often  in  bifiory. 

f  That  celebrated  arti/i,  Mr.  JVilfon,bas  painted  a fct 
of  beautiful  views  from  aaiur:,  in  diffmnt farts  »f  Wakf. 


THE   WORK9   OF   SCOTT. 


And  not  from  nature  only  flic  defigns, 
But  diff "rent  parts  of  different  fcenes  combines; 
Or  new  creations  of  her  own  (he  forms, 
Illumes  with  funfhine,  or  involves  in  ftorms  *. 
Familiar  profpects  would  thy  hand  beftow  ? 
Mark  what  our  hay-fields  and  our  hop-grounds 

fliow; 

Where  in  neat  rows  the  ruffet-cocks  are  feen, 
Or  from  tall  poles  depend  feftoons  of  green ; 
And  long  (Iraight  paths  in  perfpective  extend, 
And  yellow  fandhills  clofc  behind  afcend  f . 
Nor  fweetcr  contrail  fure  can  meet  the  eye, 
Than  Tillage  lanes  in  vernal  months  fupply, 
When  amber  clouds,  in  fky  of  foft  bright  blue, 
Hang  o'er  the  copfe  juft  c.rown'd  with  verdure 

new ; 

Or  where  the  orchard's  fun-gilt  branches  fpread 
Their  bloom  of  white  or  faintly-blufhing  red. 
The  faireft  fcenes,  when  peopled,  look  more  fair, 
But  thefe  to  people  afks  peculiar  care : 
We  wifh  not  here  for  Virgil's  claffic  fwains, 
Nor  dryad  nymphs  light  tripping  o'er  the  plains; 
Nor  yet  the  grinning  hobbinols  of  Gay, 
Nor  cottage  Marians  in  their  torn  array  : 
The  ruftic  life  in  ev'ry  varied  place, 
Can  boaft  its  few  of  beauty  and  of  grace ; 
From  them  felect  the  forms  that  moft  may  pleafe, 
And  clothe  with  fimple  elegance  and  eafe  : 
Such  forms  in  Smith's  J  delightful  fpots  we  prize, 
And  fuch  in  Sandby's  pleafant  fields  arife. 

Th"  obfervant  artift  much  from  travel  gains ; 
Jncreafe  of  knowledge  well  rewards  his  pains. 
Now  his  pkas'd  eye  o'er  Tufcan  profpects  roves, 
Their  funny  corn-fields  and  their  cyprefs  groves ; 
Their  roads,  where  fports  from  tree  to  tree  the 

vine, 
And    through  broad   leaves  its   cryftal  clufters 

fhine  j| ; 

Their  white  Cafines,  with  olive  groves  around ; 
Andglitt'ring  cliiFs  with  towns  and  caftles  crown'd. 
Now  his  pleas' d  ftep  a  wider  circuit  tries, 
Where  Nile's  vaft  flood  on  Egypt's  level  lies; 
While  'midft  the  tide  tall  palms  their  tops  uprear, 
And  caufeways  broad,  and  cities  fair  appear  §. 
Now  Indian  climes  he  eaft  or  weft  explores, 
Quits  the  dull  fact'ry  and  the  fandy  ft  ores  f, 
Climbs  craggy  hills,  pervades  romantic  woods, 
Or  winds  along  the  cataracts  of  the  floods ; 
Through  beafts,  and  birds,  and  infects,  fruits  and 

flow'rs, 

In  fhape  and  colour  all  diftinct  from  ours; 
Or  ftrays  o'er  ifles  that  fpicy  vales  unfold, 
'Midft  Ikies  of  glory  and  'midft  feas  of  gold ; 

*  Tbcfe  circumjlances,  termed  by  the  painters  acci 
dents  of  nature,  often  agreeably  d'rvcrjtfy  landfcape. 

f  For  this  imagery  the  author  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Wai- 
pole, -who, in  his  Anecdotes  ef  Painting,  vol.  iv.  p.  65, 
propofes  our  bay-fields  and  hop-grounds  as  neiv  fubjcEli 
of 'landfcape. 

\   The  late  Mr.  G:orge  Smith  of  Chichfcr. 

||  Tie  hedgerow  tuffs  in  Tufcani  ar;  covered  -with 
•vines. —  Vide  Smottet's  Travels,  Vol.  ii.  p.  46. 

§    Vide RoU'nSs  Ancient  Hi/lory,  iSmo.Vol.  i.  p.  11. 

\  Sfocral  of  oar  arfifs  have  attended  to  this  clrcum- 
fance  of  foreign fccnery .  The  ingenious  Mr.  George  Ps- 
bertfon  Las  farateJ- fever aljme  romanlu  views,  in  Ja 
maica,  'it'Liib  bn'i'c  bc-cn  engraved. 


Such  flcies,  fuch  feas,  as  Hodge's  pencil  drew*, 
And  round  the  rocks  of  Ulitea  threw  *. 

Whate'er  we  copy,  or  whate'er  we  feign, 
Through  all  the  piece  one  character  fhould  reign : 
When  Claude's  bright  morn  on  Mola's  precincts 
dawns,  [lawns ! 

What  fweet  quiefcence  marks  the  groves   and 
How  calm  his  herds  among  the  ruins  graze ! 
How  calm  his  curious  peafant  ftands  to  gaze  f  ! 
When  bold  Salvator  under  turbid  fkies 
Bids  his  fcath'd  hills  and  blafted  trees  arife, 
Behind  wild  rocks  bids  his  wild  ftream  be  loft, 
And  from  vaft  cliffs  mows  broken  fragments  toft  ; 
'Midi!  them  no  fhepherds  lead  their  flocks  along, 
Nor  village  maidens  feem  to  tune  their  fong ; 
But  folemn  augurs  flights  of  birds  furvey, 
Or  ftern-ey'd  robbers  wait  the  paffing  prey  f . 
In  Rubens'  foreft,  when  the  wounded  boar, 
Plung'd  in  the  ftream,  attempts  the  further  fhore, 
How  the  fierce  dogs  retard  his  awkward  fpeed  ! 
How  the  fierce  hunters  urge  the  (training  fteed! 
And  eager  one  the  winged  arrow  fends, 
And  one  firm  fix'd  th'  expectant  fpear  protends  |[. 
To  hift'ry's  group,  where  paflion'd  thought  ex- 

preft, 

Strikes  kindred  feelings  on  the  -gazer's  breaft,— 
To  hift'ry's  group,  the  epic  of  thy  arr, 
Proceed  we  now,  and  what  we  can,  impart. 

The  mighty  mafters  of  Italian  name, 
All  Rome,  all  Florence,  and  Bologna  claim; 
Whofe  frefco  forms  ftill  animate  their  walls, 
Whofe  living  eanvafs  decks  their  domes  and  halls: 
What  various  powers  for  thefe  their  glory  won, 
And  what  of  theirs  to  choofe,  and  what  to  fhun, 
Illuftrious  Reynolds  much  in  profe  has  told, 
And  more  my  verfe  pretends  not  to  unfold. 
Thefe  ftill  thy  ftudy  but  with  caution  make, 
Nor  prize  the  picture  for  the  painter's  fake; 
Raffaelle  himfelf,  beneath  himfelf  oft  fell, 
And  meaner  hands'  beft  woiks  his  worft  excel  §. 

'Tis  general  nature,  in  thy  art  and  mine, 
Muft  give  our  fame  in  future  times  to  mine : 
Sublime  and  pathos,  like  the  fun's  fix'd  flame, 
Remain,  and  pleafe  through  ev'ry  age  the  fame; 
Humour's  light  fhapes,  like  vapours  in  the  Iky, 
Rife,  pafs,  and  vary,  and  for  ever  fly  : 

*  Several  beautiful landfcqpes, taken  in  different  parts 
of  the  nnu  dif:ui>ered  ijlatidi,  by  Mr.  Hodges,  "who  at 
tended  Captain  Cook  in  on:  of  his  voyages,  mujl  be  -well 
remembered  by  thofe  -who  attend  the  annual  exhibitions  of 
tbe  Royal  Academy. 

•j-  Vide  a  beautiful  engraving,  by  Vivarez,  from  a 
capital  pifture  of  Claude  Lorrain,  called  the  Morning, 
in  ivhicb  he  introduces  himfelf  draiving  an  antique  temple 
on  the  bants  of  the  Tyber,  bet-ween  Ponte  Mola  and 
Rome. 

\  P~iJe  Salvator  Rofa's  lamlfcapcs,  engraved  fy 
Goupy,  See  a!fo  Sir  Jojbua  Reynolds'*  Difcourfis> 
P-  175- 

|f  Vide  Rul/ens's  landfcape  of  boar-hunting,  engraved 
by  Bolfwcrt. 

§  For  this  ajjertion  the  author  has  the  higbift  autho 
rity,  viz.  that  of  Sir  Jojhua  Reynolds.  "  I  have  no 
dfjir;"  fcvs  he,  "  to  degrade  Raffjelle  from  the  high 
rank  he  defervedly  holds  ;  but,  in  comparing  him  -with 
himfrlf,  bs  dofs  not  appe.ir  to  me  to  !it  tbffjme  mar.  /•;  ci' 
as  in  fnfco?'— D[fio::rfei,  p.  l6j. 


AN    ESSAY    ON   PAINTING. 


767 


Hogarth  and  Swift   if  living,  nr>ht  deplore 
Half  their  keen   jokes,   that  now  are  jokes   no 

more. 

What  truth's  rich  page  of  real  event  fupplies, 
What  fancy's  pow'rs  ot'  fabled  aft  devife, 
Before  thee  lie — but  where  the  field  fo  wide, 
There  judgment's  hand  fekciion's  flep  mufi  guide. 

To  horror's  form  the  mind  averfion  feels, 
To  Spaniolet's  *  flca'd  faints  and  tort'ring  wheels  ; 
Nor  pra:fe  for  nauieous  images  we  win, 
For  :-penfer's  error,  or  for  Milton's  fin. 

Mythology,  that  Greek  cnchantrefs,  long 
Has  reign'tl  the  idol  of  the  painting  throng : 
But  realbn's  thought  difdains  Ovidian  'dreams 
Abfurd,    of    nymphs  transform'd    to   trees    and 

ttreams ; 

And  virtue  Homer's  wanton  gods  abhors, 
With  all   their  lewd  amours  and   all  their  idle 

wars. 

The  battle's  conflicts  ample  fcopc  beftow, 
Th'  effects  of  fury,  fear,  and  pain  to  ihow  ; 
As  diff'rent  features  thefe  unlike  exprefs, 
The  contrail's  force  affects  us  mere  or  lefs. 
But  here  confufion  holds  his  crowded  reign, 
And  the  tir'd  eye  attempts  to  reft  in  vain  ; 
And  o'er  the1  i'cene  humanity  complains, 
Where   mangled   corfes  lie,  and  blood  the  land 

diihiins. 

When  in  the  fore-ground  kings  or  gen'rals  {land, 
Direct  th'  attack,  or  head  the  charging  band, 
Thc'ir  graceful  forms  we  unconcern'd  furvey, 
Who  fight  for  conqueil,  or  who  fight  for  pay : 
Nor  in  their  poftures  can  there  much  be  prais'd, 
Their  piftols  leveil'd,  or  their  fauchions  rais'd ; 
And  to  dull  famenefs  here  l"o  oft  we  fall, 
That  who  beholds  one  piece,  beholds  them  all. 
But  war's  dire  field,  not  all  confin'd  to  thefe, 
Affords  us  often  incidents  that  pieaie  : 
For  oft  th'  hiflorian's,  oft  the  poet's  art, 
Can  win  our  wilh.es  on  i'ome  hero's  part ; 
His  country  nam'd,  his  place  and  parents  known, 
Our  bufy  thought  his  perils  makes  its  own. 
To  fierce  Pelidcs,  'midfl  Scamander's  waves, 
When  ^oung  Lycaon's  voice  for  pity  craves  •]•; 
The  chief  j  item  brow,  and  lance  lafpended  high, 
The  )  outli's  bent  knee  and  deprecating  eye, 
Not  Weft's  rich  pencil  need  difdaln  to  trace, 
Or  Romncy's  ftroke  with  glowing  colours  grace. 
When  Dithyrambus,  on  Oe'ta's  plain, 
Mourns  the  brave  Perfian  whom  his  hand  has 

ilain, 


*  Spaniolet.  Gioft-ppe  Ribera,  a  native  cf  Valencia 
in  Spain.  He  ivas  noted  Jor  painting  horrid fubjcSi  ; 
fucb  as  Prometheus  -with  ibc  Vulture,  feeding  on  hit  li 
ver  ;  Ixion  tortured  on  the -wheel;  and  $t.  Bartholomew 
•with  the  Jkln  Jktyed  from  bit  body. — Vide  Drj Jen's 
Iraiijl.ition  of  frefnay,  p.  352. 

f  Vide  the  Iliad,  boot  xxi. — This  Jlory  of  Lycaoa  is 
ferbafs,  one  of  the  mojl  affieSlinjt  ffijfcgei  in  the  inhale 
poem.  Vide  Pope's  Note,  vol.  v.  p.  208.  cf  his  tranf- 
latioii.  The  countenance  of  j};bilifi,  ci  tLc  t,-i<,n:c:,l  irl.  en 
the  i'e.:th  of  Patroclus,  occurring  to  his  thought,  deter 
mined  him  to  til!  Lycaon,  -would  afford  a  fine  cxprrjficn  : 

"  Talk  not  of  life  or  rr.nfom,  he  replies ; 
w  I'atrochis  dead,  whoever  meet?  n:c  dies,"' 


Nor  marks  his  danger  from  th'  approaching  foe, 
Nor  his  bold  friend  prepar'd  to  ward  the  blow ; 
In  one  what  grief,  in  one  what  vengeful  rage, 
In  one  what  ardour  might  the  fight  engage  *  ! 
The  gentle  Kauffinau's  traits  can  bell  declare 
The  fentimental  feelings  pf  the  fair, 
When  ibi't  hrminia  in  tlu  fylvan  lhade 
Leaves  i'ancred's  name  on  ev'ry  uee  difplay'd  f; 
Or  kind  Louila  pens  the  friendly  fcroll, 
To  footh  the  mournful  filler  of  her  foul  J. 
The  fame  Ikill'd  hand  more   flrong   expreflion 

tries, 
At  Edward's  feet  when    Woodville's  daughter 

lies  ||  ; 

Or,  'nr.dfl  th'  admiring  weeping  train  around, 
Fond  Eleanora  fucks  the  poiion'd  wound  §. 
Delightful  artifl ! — Grace  her  pencil  guides, 
And  delicacy  o'er  its  ilroke  prefides  ! 
Th'  immortal  fwans,  appointed  to  redeem 
Genius  and  worth  from  Lethe's  filent  flream, 
Meas'd  with  their  charge  fliall  bear  her  medalTd 

name 

To  the  fair  prieftefs  of  the  fane  of  fame  <]. 
Now  from  the  page  of  Richardfon  beftow 
On  Clementina's  face  the  lines  of  woe; 
Or  let  fvveet  Harriet's  livelier  beauty  wear 
The  foul-fraught  eye  and  apprehcnfive  air; 
Or  draw  the  proud  Olivia's  rage-flufh'd  charms, 
When  the  calm  hero  feiz'd  her  deadly  arms; 
And  paint  that  hero,  firm  in  trial  prov'd, 
Unaw'd  by  danger,  and  by  vice  unmov'd  **. 

Such  tender  fubjedls,  if  thy  choice  they  gain, 
Enough  for  thee  as  yet  untouch'd  remain. 

*   Vide  Leonidas,  book  viii.  1.  355. 

"  He  ended :  rufking  furious  on  the  Greek, 

"  Who,  while  his  gallant  enemy  cxpir'd, 

"  While  Hyperanthes  tenderly  received 

"  The  laft  embraces  of  his  galping  friend, 

"  Stood  nigh  reclin'd  in  iadnefs  on  his  fhield, 

"  And  in  the  pride  of  victory  repin'd. 

"  Unmaik'd  his   foe  approach'd.      But  forward 

"  fprung 

"  Diomedon.     Before  the  Thefpian  youth 
"  Aloft  he  rais'd  his  targe -" 

f    Vide  Ta/o's  Jerufaleia  Delivered. 

\  See  Emma  Corbett,  an  inierejiing  novel,  ly  Mr.  5. 
/.  Pratt,  vol.  i.  letter  34. 

||  See  th:  Jlcrv  of  Eliz.iibi.tb  Grey,  daughter  cf  Sir 
Richard  Wood-ville,  filing  to  Ed-ward  IV. for  rejlitution 
of  her  land*. — Rafin,  vol.  i.  p.  6oi. 

§  The  ittell-knoivnJJory  of  Eleanor  cf  Cajlile,  qute,i 
of  Edivardl.  fucking  ibcpoifan  from  her  bufband's  arm, 
iv  en  be  -was  ii:o.::idid  by  an  ajj~cjjin  in  Paltjlin:. 

\  See  a  painting  cf  Mrs.  Kaufmans,froniapajfug? 
in  ArirjJa,  iihcre  fiuans  arc  introduced  bringing  th.- 
names  of  ingenictis  pcrfons,  infcribed  en  tntdais,  to  a 
n\n:ph  -.uho  dcpoftts  them  in  the  Temple  of  Fame. 

*  *    The  hif.ory  of  Sir  Charles  Crandifon,  vol.  iv.  p 
176.     The  iattrvinultt-weea  Grc.rJifan  and  Olivia,  ni 
the  iirjlant  of  i 'is foiling  her  poniard,  would  K.'ai'C  t.<  ni-lic 
pifttire.      This  -.ccrk  of  Richardfon' 's  absitnds  T. 
fttuations.     B>a:krs's  Foul  of  Duality,  and  tie  Ad-v^i- 
tiner  cf  HiKj/kef-iuortb,  are  alp)  books  icortiy  tie  pcrnj^i 
>    d'Ciifi:   cf  ' 


THE   WORKS   OF   SCOTT. 


To  Sterne's  foft  Maniac  let  thy  hand  impart 
The  languid  cheek,  the  look  that  pierc'd   his 

heart, 

When  to  her  -virgin  faint  the  vefper  fong  (he  rais'd, 
Or  earned  view'd  him  as  he  fat  and  gaz'd  *. 
Mark,  if  thou  canft,  philanthropy  divine, 
That  fwells  the  breaft  and  bids  the  features  fhine, 
When  the  tear  glift'ning  ftarts  from  Toby's  eyes 
Fix'd  on  the  couch  where  poor  Le  Fevre  dies. 

The  Grecian  daffies'  venerable  lore 
1  fee  thee  often  diligent  explore ; 
What  Homer's  mufe  to  Chian  cities  taught, 
Or  pity's  prieft  f  to  Athens'  audience  brought. 
Methinks,  now  rifing  from  thy  plaftic  hand, 
Troy's  hoary  monarch  mail  a  fuppliant  {land ; 
To  ftern  Achilles  all  his  griefs  explain, 
And  afk  his  Hector's  corfe,  nor  aflc  in  vain  f. 
Now  Jove's  kind  fon  to  Thebes's  forr'wing  king 
Shall  his  reftor'd  unknown  Alceflis  bring ; 
Admetus'  eyes  his  anguifh'd  thoughts  declare, 
And  turn  difgufted  from  the  proffer'd  fair  ||. 

The  dark  fublime  of  extra-nat'ral  fcenes 
The  vulgar  magic's  puerile  rite  demeans ; 
Where  hags  their  cauldrons  fraught  with  toads 

prepare, 

Or  glide  on  broomfticks  through  the  midnight  air. 
Chain'd  on  the  rock  let  bold  Prometheus  lie, 
And  caft  wild  looks,  upbraiding,  to  the  Iky  § ; 
Bid  Milton's  Satan  from  the  burning  fteep 
Call  his  wide  legions,  flumb'ring  on  the  deep ; 
Or  Camoens'  fpirit  of  the  Cape  upraife, 
And  mow  him  only  by  the  lightning's  blaze  ; 
Or  place  fad  Hofier's  ghoft  amid  the  tide, 
Where  by  the  pale  moon  anchor'd  navies  ride  •[. 

O  where  is  he,  whofe  thought  fuch  grandeur 

gave' 

To  bold  Fitzwalter  and  the  barons  brave, 
When,  rang'd    in   arms  along   their  Thames's 

ftrand, 
Theyfnatch'd ;  their  charter  from  a  tyrant's  hand  **  ? 

*  Thisfubjeft  has  been  attempted  byfeveral  ingenious 
trtijls,  IV/JD  have  given  titry  pleafing  figures  ;  but,  ptr- 
taps,  none  that  cwjcy  the  frccife  idea  of  Sterne.  Thi, 
author  being  mentioned,  a  trite  obfer-vation  mufl  be  indulg 
ed,  -viz.  That  there  probably  never  ivas  a  more  Jlritii 
injlance  of '  mifapplication  of  talents  than  in  him.  With 
fuperior  powers  fcr  the  patios,  he  chofe  to  dcfcend  to  ri 
baldry,  that  affronted  the  tajle  and  corrupted  the  morals 
cf  the  public.  What  pity  that  the  gold  had  nut  been  fe 
paratedfrom  the  drnfs,  and  the  latter  configncd  to  that  ob 
livion  it  fo  richly  merits. 

•j-  I'.uripidcs. 

\  '  Vide  the  Iliad,  book  xxiv. 

jf  Vide  the  Alccjlis  of  Euripides.  Hercules  rejlores 
to  life  jllcejlis,  the  deceafed  ivlje  of  Admetus,  and  brings 
her  to  ber  ht/Jband,  difguifed  -with  a  veil,  and  teprefent 
as  aftranger  ;  whom  AJmetus,  in  the  height  of  dijlrefs 
far  the  lofs  of  his  beloved  cotifort ,  refufes  to  admit  into  his 
palace. 

§  Seethe  Prometheus  of JEfchylus. 

^  See  that  admirable  fong,  intituled  Hofier's   Gbojl 
ty  the  author  of  Lecnidas. 

'*  Vide  the  late  Mr.  Mortimers  pifiure  of  Kin 
John  delivering  Magna  Charta  to  the  Barons.  Tba 
ingenious  artljf 's  obvious  poivers  of  imagination  promife 
the  attainment  of  a  high  dcgrcs  of  excellence  In  Ins  pro 


'hrough  all  the  fcenes  his  rapid  ftroke  beftow'd, 

lofa's  wild  grace  and  daring  fpirit  glow'd  ; 

n  him— ah  loft  ere  half  his  pow'rs  were  mown  !— 

ritain,  perhaps,  an  Angelo  had  known ! 
Wouldft  thou  his  honours  emulous  purfue, 

tnd  give  the  patriot  energy  to  view, — 
Deep  in  the  gloom  of  Dalecarlia's  mine, 
Jid  freedom's  flame  in  Vafa's  vifage  mine  *  ; 

he  pafs  of  fam'd  Thermopylx  difplay, 

nd  Sparta's  monarch's  port  auguft  portray  f. 
For  pontiffs  and  for  kings,  the  painter's  (kill 
'"i-bm  facred  ftory  toils  their  walls  to  fill ; 
Where'er  we  turn,  its  fubjects  ftrike  the  eye, 
And  few  untry'd  are  left  for  us  te>  try. 
Yet  who  has  Jepthah's  matchlefs  woe  expreft, 

Jy  his  lov'd  daughter's  fudden  fight  diftreft ; 

)r  mown  the  patriarchs,  ftruck  with  wild  amazes 
As  on  the  viceroy's  hidden  cup  they  gaze  \  ? 
Or  who,  when  Ifrael's  hofts  on  Edom's  plain 

Defpairing  lie, — a  thirft-afflicted  train  ! — 

-las  bade  the  prophet  and  his  minftrel  ftand, 
And  call  new  waters  o'er  the  burning  fand  ||  ? 
When  David's  chiefs,  with  gen'rous  thought  in- 
fpir'd, 

Bring  the  clear  wave  his  fick'ning  foul  defir'd; 
What  dignity  might  to  his  act  be  giv'n, 
The  pure  libation  pouring  out  to  Heav'n  §  ! 

No  more  of  theme  ;  defign  muft  now  fucceed— 
The  mind's  ftrong  picture  when  we  hear  or  read  f  . 
Where  ev'ry  perfon  finds  his  proper  place, 
And  turn  of  attitude  and  turn  of  face  : 
The  artift's  pow'rs  in  this  muft  greatly  fail, 
Whofe  figures  point  not  out  at  once  his  tale  **. 

*  £rooke's  Guftat'us  Vafa,  act  i.  fc.  a.  where  Guf- 
ta-vus  difcovers  himfelf  to  Anderfon  and  Arnoldus  In  the 
copper-mines  of  Dalecarlij.  See  another  fine  fubjefl  in 
the  fame  Tragedy,  act  iv.  fc.  xi. 

f  Vide  Leonidas,  book  x.  where  the  hero  of  tbepcen 
repeats  to  the  aj'embled  council  the  "le/fage  of  Argefles ; 
I'jbile  Alphevs,  at  the  fume  Inflant,  brings  news  of  the 
Perfians  having  pajfed  the  Upper  Strait.  This  would 
make  a  r.obie  pifiure  ;  the  dauntlefs  appearance  of  the 
Greeks  might  be  well  contra/led  with  the  ftur  andjbame 
of  the  ambajjfador  of  Xerxes  — The  Banquet  of  Mel'iffa, 
Prleftej's  of  the  Mufes,  where  Ltonidas  and  JEfchylus  are 
fuppofed  frefent ,  book  vii.  is  another  finejuf-jefi.  Such 
pictures  would  hardly  be  popular ;  tut  tOjOme  minds  they 
would  afford  Jin  gut  ar  pleasure. 

t  The  author  does  not  recollect  feeing  or  bearing  ef  any 
celebrated  piffure  on  ttofeir:terefl'ngfubje8s,  of  Jepthah's 
return,  and  the  dljco-very  of  'Jojepb's  cup  In  the  fack  of 
Benjamin 

||    Vide  ^  Kings,  chap.  iii. This  fubjtEl  would. 

afford  a  variety  of  noble  exfrejjion  In  the  Different  charac 
ters  of  the  kings,  the  pious  confidence  ofjehojdpbat,  and  the 
deff  ending  anxiety  of  Jehorjm,  the  djfirefs  of  'the  fold! erst 
and  the  enthujiajm  of  Eli/ha.  Theftreams  of  water  might 
appeir  In  the  di/lance,feemingly  vifible  only  to  the  Propbety 
from  bis  Jituatlon. 

§  ^  Samuel,  chap,  xxiii. 

\  See  Sir  Jojbua  Reynold?:  Dircourfes,  p.  104. 

**  *'  That  compcjitiori  muft  be  Jefefii-ve ,  which  cannot, 
to  a  careful  observer,  point  cut  its  oiun  tendency  ;  ar..i 
thafe  exprejjions  mufi  be  cither  lueik  or  f<<lfe,  which  do 
not  in  fame  degree  mark  'be  irtcreft  of  each  afeor  in  the 
drama  "  Webb's  Inquiry  Inic,  the  Beauties  »f  Pointing, 
Preface,  p.  8. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   PAINTING. 


When  Lyflra's  crowd  around  th'  apoftles  throng, 

And  joyful  lead  the  victim  ox  along ; 

Afle  we  the  caufe,  while  he  that  caufe  explains, 

Whofe  limb,  late  ufelefs,ftrengthandufe  obtains  *  ? 

When   Weft's   young  warrior,  bleeding  on  the 
ground, 

His  mournful  group  of  martial  friends  furround  ; 

Their  gallant  gen'ral  inftantly  we  know,     [fliow ; 

Their   griefs,  their  cares,   his   life's    importance 

Quebec's  proud  tow'r,  th'  encount'ring  troops  be 
tween, 

In  diftant  view  difcriminates  the  fcene  f . 
As  in  the  drama  all  events  fhould  tend 

In  courfe  unbroken  to  the  purpos'd  end; 

So  mtift  the  picture's  bus'nefs  ftill  maintain 

The  fame  connective  unity  of  train. 

When  Copley's  youth,  iwift-ftruggling  through 
the  wave, 

The  anxious  boatmen  flrain  each  nerve  to  fave  ; 

As  ftrives  the  rav'nous  fhark  to  reach  his  prey, 

One  lifts  the  jav'lin  to  arrefl  his  way  ; 

And  now,  as  near  his  dreadful  jaws  expand, 

One  cafts  the  cord,  and  one  extends  the  hand : 

What  care,  what  pity,  mark  their  eager  eyes! 

What  hopes,  what  terrors  in  our  bofoms  rife  \ '. 
The  Ikilful  painter,  at  whofe  option  lie 

Pofitions  various,  fails  not  all  to  try  ; 

And  thofe  prefers,  where  ev'ry  part  the  beft 

Accordance  keeps,  illuftrating  the  reft. 

By  diff ' rent  modes  effect  he  oft  obtains ; 

To  one  chief  figure  now  th'  attention  gains; 

Now  force  on  fecond  characters  beftows, 

And  all  his  meaning  by  reflection  fhows ; 

New  through  the  whole,  each  rank,  and  fex,  and 

age> 
One  common  ruling  paffion  bids  engage. 

When  Raffaelle's  Saviour  from  the  tomb  afcends, 
Such  majefty  and  grace  his  prefence  blends, 
That  the  fix'd  eye  contemplates  him  alone, 
Nor    heeds    th'    aftoniih'd    guards   around  him 

thrown  |j. 
When   Vandyke's    gen'ral,    whofe    victorious 

fpear  -,         [reer, 

Sunk  Perfia's  pride,  and  check'd  the   Goth's  ca- 
Of  fervice  paid  with  indigence  complains, 
And  {ightk'fs  age  on  daily  alms  fuftains ; 
As  the  young  chief  th'  affedting  fcene  furveys, 
How  all  his  form  th'  emotion 'd  foul  betrays  ! 
*  O  thus  has  fortune  for  the  brave  decreed  ? 
4  Of  toils  and  dangers  this  at  bft  the  meed  §  ?' 
When  Rome's  fair  princefs,  who  from  Syria's 

fnore 
Her  late-loft  confort's  facred  afhes  bore, 

*  VideRsfaelle's  St.  PLU! and  Barnibes  at  Lyjlra 
For  the  abwe.  objer-vation  and  description,  tbt  author  i. 
indebted  to  the  ingenious  "  Inquiry  'into  the  JSuuthi  sj 
Painting)  p.  l8o. 

f  Fide  Weft's  celebrated  f;if?tire  of  the  de.-th  of  Ge 
neral  Wtlfe,  engr-J-vcii  by  V/collett. 

\  See  Mr.  Coplty's  figure  of  3  youth  re  rcuedbyfailor 
from  ajlark  in  the  birbour  of  the  Ha-vantub.  ''I here  i 
tijine  MezKotinto  of  this  piece  by  Green. 

||  Raffaelle'i  picture  of  the  RejurreElion  ofChri/l,  en- 
gri-ved  by  Fi-varez  and  d  ignion,  from  a  drawing  o, 
Dalton. 

§  Fide  the  Bclifjtius  off'aaJy'.t;  craved  by  Goufi 
(lad  Satin. 
VOL.  £1. 


With  fteps  flow-moving  o'er  Brundufium's  ftrand, 
Vleets  her  lov'd  friends — a  numerous  mourning 

band — 

ier  gentle  frame  no  geftures  rude  difgrace, 
<Io  vulgar  grief  deforms  her  beauteous  face; 
•ler  downcaft  eyes  immoveable  remain, 
"ix'd  on  the  urn  her  careful  hands  fuftain. 
The  widow'd  mother,  by  her  garments  folds, 
~lofe  on  each  fide  each  tender  offspring  holds; 
While  melancholy  all  the  train  o'erfhades, 
Of  hoary  warriors  and  of  blooming  maids, 
And  all  their  breafts  with  pity  feem  to  heave, 
And  for  the  dead  and  for  the  living  grieve  *. 
The  great  fublime  with  energy  t"  exprefs 
Sxert  thy  utmoft  power,  nor  fear  excels. 
When  paffion's  tumults  in  the  bofom  rife, 
"nflate  the  features,  and  enrage  the  eyes ; 
To  nature's  outline  can  we  draw  too  true, 
Dr  nature's  colours  give  too  full  to  view  ? 
Did  Reynolds'  hand  with  force  too  firong  difclofo 
Thofe  looks  that  mark  th'  unutterable  woes, 
When  Ugoline  the  wretch  in  prifon  lies, 
And  hears  his  dying  children's  piercing  cries; 
And  while  fell  hunger  haunts  the  impervious  walls, 
And  one  by  one  the  fuffering  vidlims  ealls, 
Invokes  the  lightning's  bolt  thofe  walls  to  rend, 
Or  earth  to  open,  and  his  miferies  endf  ? 

Our  bards  indeed,  I  own,  here  often  fail, 
And  fpeil  with  bombaft  and  conceit  their  tale ; 
Their  heroes  rant  in  many  a  curious  {train      [paim 
Of  thought,  that  none  could  think  in  anger  or  in. 

Celeflial  fcenes  with  caution  mull  be  try'd, 
Where  knowledge  fails,  and  fancy  fole  can  guide ; 
The  Great  Firft  Caufe  no  form  reveals  to  fight. 
We  mark  his  prefence  by  excefs  of  light  f  ; 
While  angel  fhapes  at  eafe  on  wing  remain, 
Or  on  thin  clouds  their  airy  fteps  fuftain. 

But  though,  fair  painting  !  thus  by  juft  defign, 
And  ftrong  exprcffion,  much  to  pleale  is  thine., 
Yet  not  from  thefe  thy  utmoft  praifes  rife, 
For  ufeful  moral  oft  thy  work  fupplies. 
When,  'midft  Pouffin's  Arcadian  vale  ferene, 
The  virgin's  fculptur'd  monument  is  feen, 
And  the  fad  fhepherd  pointing  feems  to  fay, 
'  O  death,  no  place  is  lacred  from  thy  fway !' 
Our  mournful  thoughts  the  well-known  truth  re« 

cal, 
That  youth  and  beauty  oft  untimely  fall  ||. 

*  This  capital  pifture  ofAgrippina  landing  at  JBrun- 
dufium,  -with  the  ii/hes  tf  Gtrmanicus,  is,  in  the  author''! 
opinion,  one  of  Mr.  IVrJl's  mcjl  flea/ing  compofitiom . 
'There  is  a  beautiful  print  of  it  by  Earlom. 

f  Vide  Sir  'jojhiia  Itrynoldi i  excellent  piSltire  of 
Count  Uvolimt  and  his  children  in  the  dungeon,  tvbcrc 
they  'were  confuted  and  Jiarveil  to  death  by  the  Archbi- 
ftop  Puggiert.  This  circujnftance  is  defcribed  by  tire 
Italian  pant  Dante. 

}  The  author  could  not  here  omit  cenfiirinrr  the  prac 
tice  fjffome  celebrated  painters,  ivho  have  pnfuwpti/ouf- 
ly  and  abfurdly  re'prefented  the  Supreme  JSciiip  in  ths 
Jorm  of  an  aged  man, 

||  Vide  Pou/:n's  picture,  called  The  Shepherds  in 
Arcadia,  engraiied  Z>y  Ravenet,  in  Mr.  Boydtlf  s  Col- 
leflion  of  Prints  :  Alfa  the  Abbe'  Du  Bos' 's  Reflexions 
on  Poetry,  Painting,  and  Muftc ;  and  Dr.  tVarton's 
ingenious  Ejfjy  en  l.liJaflk  Poetry,  in  his  Tranjlation 
of  Virgil. 


770 


THE   WORKS    OF   SCOTT, 


On  Carthage'  plains,  when  Marius  meets  the  eye, 
And  the  flern  prsetor's  mandate  bids  him  fly, 
Frelh  from  the  view  the  ftrong  reflection  fprings, 
How  ftrange  the  vaft  vicifiitude  of  things ! 
R.ome's  rival  city  to  the  duft  depreft; 
Her  haughty  conful  there  deny'd  to  reft  *  ! 
When  Perfia's  conqueror,  'midft  her  female  train, 
Appears  the  chafte,  the  generous,  and  humane, 
His  look,  his  action,  on  the  mind  imprefs 
The  needful  knowledge  how  to  bear  fuccefs  f. 

Thus  may  thy  art,  O  friend,  for  ever  prove 
Of  force  to  virtue,  and  from  vice  to  move! 
Toftatefmen,  thoughtlefs  on  the  heights  of  pow'r, 
Mark  Wolfey's  fall,  or  {how  his  final  hour ; 
To  patriot  eyes  give  Marveli's  calm  difdain, 
When  Danby  urg'd  the  tempting  bribe  in  vain  \ ; 
Or  bid  th'  inconftant  her  own  doom  deplore 
In  the  fad  exit  of  the  haplefs  Shore  || . 

Without  the  Fntheus  nature's  felf  bf  flows, 
The  world  no  painter  nor  no  poet  knows : 
But  think  not  mind  in  its  own  depth  contains 
A  fource  of  wealth  that  no  difburfement  drains : 
Quick  obfervation,  ever  on  the  wing, 
Home,  like  the  bee,  its  ufeful  ftores  muft  bring ; 
From  hills,  and  vales,  and  rocks,  and  ftreams,  and 

trees, 

And  towns,  and  all  that  people  thofe  and  thefe ; 
From  meaneft  objects  that  may  hints  infpire, 
Difcolour'd  walls,  or  heaps  of  glowing  fire  §. 
Care  too  befide  thee  fl,ill  mufl  take  her  place, 
Retouch  each  ftroke,  and  polilh  every  grace; 

*  There  is  ajine  pi  ff  lire  of  Mortimer's  on  thisfub? 
jc£*.  T.he  reply  of  Mzrius,  to  tie  mejfenger  -who  came 
•with  orders  for  him  to  depart,  ivas  nobly  concife  and 
cjfe  fling  :  "  Go,  tell  the  Prator  tbou  baft  fieri  Murius 
"  Jilting  on  the  ruins  of  Carthage." 

•f-  Vide  Le  Bruns  Alexander  in  tie  tent  of  Darius, 
engraved  by  Edelinct. 

\  See  the  Lifs  of^dndre-w  Marvel!,  in  Gibber  s  Lives 
of  the  Poets. 

||  The  interview  letiveen  Shore  and  her  lit/band,  in 
the  lajl  fcene  of  Rtnve's  Tragedy,  •mould  afford  a  fine 
fifiure. 

§   Vide  Reynolds'!  Difcourfcs,  f.  6l. 


For  when  we  join  not  dignity  with  cafe, 

Nor  thou  canfl  paint,  nor  I  can  write,  to  pleafe. 

Perfection's  point  the  artift  neareft  gams 
Who  with  his  work  unfatisfied  remains : 
Da  Vinci's  thought  an  excellence  conceiv'd, 
That  his  eye  mifs'd  in  all  his  hand  achiev'd  *. 

The  clear-obfcure  how  happieft  to  produce, 
And  what  of  various  tints  the  various  ufe, 
My  lay  to  that  prefumes  not  to  afpire, 
Nor  with  trite  precept  this  thy  ear  fhall  tire: 
Coreggio's  practice  that  defcribes  the  heft ; 
In  Frefnoy's  theory  this  We  find  exprefs'd. 

No  rude  incongrueuce   fhould  thy  piece  dif» 

grace, 

No  motley  modes  of  different  time  and  place ; 
By  Grecian  chiefs  no  Gallic  airs  be  worn  f , 
Nor  in  their  hands  be  modern  weapons  borne ; 
Nor  mix  the  crefted  helm  or  coat  of  mail 
With  the  vaft  curl'd  peruke,  or  pointed  tail. 
And  facred  ever  be  the  folemn  fcene 
From  bafe  intrufion  of  burlefque  and  mean ; 
Nor  in  a  patriarch's  or  apoftle's  fight 
Set  fnarling  dogs  and  growling  cats  to  fight. 
One  caution  further  muft  the  mufe  impart; 
Shun  naked  form,  that  fcandal  of  thy  art : 
Even  Dryden  blames  them  who  refufe  to  fparo 
The  painful  blufhes  of  the  modeft  fair. 
Let  decency  her  veil  of  drapery  throw, 
And  grace  diffufe  its  folds  in  eafy  flow  J. 

And  now,  my  friend,  for  thee  may  fortune  find, 
Employ  congenial  to  thy  liberal  mind  ; 
Not  tafks  impos'd  by  power,  or  chofen  for  gain, 
Begun  reluctant,  and  purfu'd  with  pain. 
What  warms  the  heart,  the  hand  with  force  re» 

veals, 

And  all  that  force  the  charm'd  fpectator  feels: 
For  genius,  piercing  as  th'  electric  flame, 
When  wak'd  in  one,  in  others  wakes  the  fame. 


*  Vide  Graham's  Account  cf  Painters,  in  Dryden  s 
Frefnoy,p.  278. 

f   Vide  Reynelds's  Difconrfes,  p.  87. 

\  Vide  Dryden  s  Preface  to  bis  Trait/cation  of  Fref 
noy's  Art  of  Fainting,  p.  J,2.  l3"c.  tvbere  the  licence  ff 
fa  inters,  in  the  aboie  reffclt,  isfeiierely  cenfured. 


SONNETS*. 


SONNET  I. 

APOLOGY   FOR   RETIREMENT.     1766. 

"W*!! T  aflcs  my  friend  what  cheers  my  paffmg  day, 
Where  t  hefe  lone  fields  my  rural  home  enclofc, 
That  all  the  pomp  the  crowded  city  fhows 
Ne'er  from  that  home  allures  my  fleps  away  ? 

Now  through  the  upland  fliade  I  mufing  ftray, 
And  catch  the  gale  that  o'er  the  woodbine  blows ; 
Now  in  the  meads  on  river  banks  repofe, 
And  breathe  rich  odour  from  the  new-mown  hay: 


1770. 


firfl  puWJbcd  in  P:arcb'j  Collcflion  of  Pecmj, 


Now  pleas'd  I  read  the  poet's  lofty  lay, 
Where  mufic  fraught  with  ufeful  knowledge  flowsj 
Now  Delia's  converfe  makes  the  moments  gay, 
The  maid  for  love  and  innocence  I  chofe  : 
O  friend  !  the  man  who  joys  like  thefe  can  tafte, 
On  vice  and  folly  needs  no  hour  to  wafle. 

SONNET  II. 

TO  DELIA.     1766. 

THRICE  has  the  year  its  varied  circuit  run, 
And  fwiftly,  Delia,  have  the  moments  flown, 
Since  with  my  love  for  thee  my  care  begun, 
To  improve  thy  tender  mind  to  fcience  prone* 


SONNETS. 


771 


The  flatteries  of  my  fex  I  bade  thee  fliun, 
I  bade  thee  fhun  the  manners  of  thy  own ; 
Fictitioms  manners,  by  example  won, 
That  ill  for  lofs  of  innocence  atone ! 

Say,  generous  maiden,  in  whofe  gentle  breaft 
Dwells  iimple  nature,  undifguis'd  by  art, 
Now  amply  try'd  by  time's  unerring  teft, 
How  juft  the  dictates  of  this  faithful  heart ; 
Which,  with  the  joys  thy  favouring  fmiles  impart, 
l)eems  all  its  care  repaid,  itfelf  fupremely  blcft  ! 

SONNET  III. 

AFTER   READING  SlIENITONx's  ELEGIES.    1766. 

THE  gentle  Shenftone  much  of  fortune  'plain'd, 
Where  nature's  hand  the  liberal  fpirit  gave ; 
Partial,  her  bounty  (be  too  oft  reftrain'd, 
But  pour'd  it  full  on  folly's  taftelefs  Have. 

By  her  alike  my  humble  prayer  difdain'd, 
She  flern  denies  the  only  boon  I  crave  ; 
O'er  my  fields,  fair  as  thofe  Elyfian  feign'd, 
To  bid  the  green  walk  wind,  the  green  wood  wave. 

On  the  high  hill  to  raife  the  higher  tower, 

To  ope  wide  profpects  over  diftant  plains, 
Where  by  broad  rivers  towns  and  villas  rife, 
Tafte  prompts  the  wifli,  but  fortune  bounds  the 

.  power: 

Yet  while  health  cheers,  and  competence  fuftains, 
Thefe  more  than  all  contentment  bids  me  prize. 

SONNET  IV. 

PREFIXED  TO    LANGHORNE's   POETICAL  WORKS. 
J?66. 

LANGHORNE!  unknown  tome(fequefter'dfwain!) 
Save  by  the  mufe's  foul-enchanting  lay, 


To  kindred  fpir its  never  fung  in  vain, 
Accept  the  tribute  of  this  light  clliiy. 

Sweet  are  thy  fongs ;  they  oft  amufe  my  day, 
Of  fancy's  vifions  while  I  hear  thee  'plain, 
While  Scotland's  honours  claim  thy  pafloral  ftraiu, 
Or  mufic  comes  o'er  Handel  tears  to  pay. 

For  all  thy  Irwan's  flowery  hanks  difplay, 
Thy  Perfian  lover,  and  his  Indian  fair ; 
For  all  Theodofius'  mournful  lines  convey, 
When  pride  and  avarice  part  a  matchlefs  pair ; 
Receive  juft  praife,  and  wreaths  that  ne'er  de 
cay,       -^ 
By  fame  and  virtue  twm'd  for  thee  to  wear. 

March  16.  1766. 

SONNET  V. 

TO  ERITA1N.      1766. 

RENOWN'D  Britannia!  lov'd  parental  land  ! 
Regard  thy  welfare  with  a  watchful  eye  ! 
Whene'er  the  weight  of  want's  afflicting  hand 
Wakes  in  thy  vales  the  poor's  periuafive  cry- 
When  wealth  enormous  fets  the  oppreffor  high, 
When  bribes  thy  ductile  fenators  command, 
And  flaves  in  office  freemen's  rights  withftand, 
Then  mourn,    for    then    thy  fate    approajchetl; 
nigh ! 

Not  from  perfidious  Gaul  or  haughty  Spain, 
Nor  all  the  neighbouring  nations  of  the  main, 
Though  leagu'd  in  war  tremendous  round  thy 

fhore— 

But  from  thyfelf,  thy  ruin  muft  proceed ! 
Nor  boaft  thy  power ;  for  know  it  is  decreed, 
Thy  freedom  loft,  thy  power  fhall  be  no  more ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


STANZAS  * 

«N  READING  MRS.  MACAUL.\y's  HISTO»Y  OF 
ENGLAND.      1766. 

To  Albion's  bards  the  mufe  of  hiftory  fpoke : 
'  Record  the  glories  of  your  native  land, 
'  How  power's  rude  chain  her  fons'  brave  efforts 
*  broke,  [hand. 

'  And  the  keen  fcourge  tore  from  opprcffion's 

'  Give  to  renown  the  patriot's  noble  deeds; 

*  Brand  with  difgrace  the  tyrant's  hated  name ; 

'  Though  falfehood  oft  a  while  the  mind  mifleads, 

*  Impartial  time  beflows  impartial  fame.' 

She  faid ;  and  foon  the  lofty  lyre  they  ftrung, 
But  artful  chang'd  the  fubjecT:  and  the  lore  ; 
Of  kings,  and  courts,  and  courtly  flaves  they  fung, 
And  glofs'd  with  vain  applaufc  their  actions  o'er. 

The  fervile  ftrain  the  mufc  indignant  heard ; 
Anxious,  for  truth,  for  public  virtue  warm, 

Firjl  publijltd  in  f  card's  Ccfk&itn  of  Ptems, 


She  freedom's  faithful  advocate  appcar'd, 
And  bore  on  earth  the  fair  Macaulay's  form. 

ELEGY, 

IN  THE  MANNE&  OF  HAMMOND. 

to  have  been  Written  in  the  bailor's  Garit.t 
during  a  Storm*     j  756. 

BLOW  on,  ye  winds !  exert  ycnir  utmoft  rage, 
Sweep  o'er  the  dome,  or  through  the  forefl  howl  I 
Could  north  with  fouth,  or  call  with  weft  engage, 
What  were  their  war  to  that  within  my  foul  { 

There  adverfe  paffions  fierce  contention  hold, 
There  love  and  pride  maintain  alternate  iway,     . 
There   fell  dcfpair's  dark  clouds  on  clouds  are 

roll'd, 
And  veil  hope's  tranfient,  faint,  delrfive  ray  ! 

Too  charming  Sylvia !  dear  capacious  fair  ! 
What  ftrange  perplexing  change  of  r.iiu:    i  thine1 
No  more  thy  liniks  I'll  truft,  thy  frowns I'U,  bear ; 
I'll  fliup  the  beauty  that  muft  uu'cr  be 


772  THE  WORKS 

Was  it  for  thee  I  form'd  this  fair  retreat, 
Bade  through  the^grove  the  fmooth  walk  wind 

away, 

Adorn'd  that  walk  with  many  a  ruftic  feat, 
And  by  thofe  feats  bade  tinkling  runnels  ftray; 

Along  my  funny  wall  the  fruit-tree  fpread, 
Upon  my  eves  expos'd  the  curling  vine, 
Around  my  door  the  fpicy  woodbine  led, 
Beneath  my  window  faw  the  jafmine  twine  ? 

Blow  on,  ye  winds !  exert  your  utmofl  power 
Rage  through  my  groves,  and 'bear  down  every 

tree; 

Blaft  the  fair  fruit,  and  crufh  the  blooming  flower — 
For  Sylvia's  loft,  and  thefe  are  nought  to  me ! 

THE  AUTHOR  TO  HIS  WIFE.    1776. 

FRIEND  of  my  heart,  by  .favouring  Heaven  be- 

ftow'd, 

My  lov'd  companion  on  life's  various  road ! 
Now  fix  fwift  years  have  wing'd  their  fligkt  away 
Since  yon  bright  fun  adorn'd  our  nuptial  day— 
For  thy  fweet  fmilcs,  that  all  my  cares  remove, 
Sooth  all  my  griefs,  and  all  my  joys  improve ; 
For  thy  fweet  converfe,  ever  fram'd  to  plcafe, 
With  prudence  lively,  fenfible  with  cafe ; 
To  thee  the  mufe  awakes  her  tuneful  lay, 
The  thanks  of  gratitude  fincere  to  pay ! 
Thus  long  may  Hymen  hold  for  us  his  reign, 
And  twine  with  wreaths  of  flowers  his  cafy  chain; 
Still  may  fond  love  and  firmeft  faith  be  mine, 
Still  health,  and  peace,  and  happinefs,  be  thine ! 

STANZAS 

Written  at  Medhurjl  in  Siiffex,  on  the  Author''}  return 
from  Chichejter,  -where  bt  had  attempted  in  -vain  to 
Jind  the  Burial-place  of  Collins. 

To  view  the  heauties  of  my  native  land, 
O'er  many  a  pleafing  diftant  fcene  I  rove ; 
Now  climb  the  rock,  or  wander  on  the  ftrand, 
Or  trace  the  rill,  or  penetrate  the  grove. 

From  Baia's  hills,  from  Portfea's  fpreading  wav.e, 
To  fair  Ciceftria's  lonely  walls  I  ftray  ; 
To  her  fam'd  poet's  venerated  grave, 
Anxious  my  tribute  of  refpecT:  to  pay  *. 

O'er  the  dim  pavement  of  the  fclemn  fane, 
'Midft  the  rude  ftones  that  crowd  th'  adjpining 

fpace, 

The  facred  fpot  1  feek,  but  feek  in  vain ; 
In  vain  I  afk— for  none  can  point  the  place. 

What  boots  the  eye  whofe  quick  obfervant  glance 
Marks  every  nobler,  every  fairer  form  ? 
What  the  fkill'd  ear  that  found's  fweet  charms  en 
trance, 
And  the  fond  breaft  with  generous  paffion  warm  ? 

What  boots  the  power  each  image  to  portray, 
The  power  with  force  each  feeling  to  exprcfs  ? 
How  vairi  the  hope  that  through  fife's  little  day 
The  foul  with  thought  of  future  fame  can  blefs  ? 

'  *  Collins  luas  born  at  Cbicbejler,  dled^  and prcbsaly 
•was  interred  there. 


OF   SCOTT. 

While  folly  frequent   boafts   th'  enfculptur'd 

tomb, 

By  flattery's  pen  infcrib'd  with  purchas'd  praife  ; 
While  ruftic  labour's  uiidiftinguifti'd  doom 
Fond  friendihip's  hand  records  in  humble  phtafe ; 

Of  genius  oft  and  learning  worfe  the  lot ; 
For  them  no  care,  to  them  no  honour  fiiown  *: 
Alive  negledted,  and  when  dead  forgot, 
Even  Collins  {lumbers  in  a  grave  unknown. 

Flow,  Lavant,  flow  !  along  thy  fedgy  fhore 
Bear  the  fraught  vefiel  from  the   neighbouring 

main  ! 

Enrich  thy  fons ! — but  on  thy  banks  no  more 
May  lofty  poet  breathe  his  tuneful  ftrtiin! 

VERSES 

TO  A   FRIEND   PLANTING. 

PROCEED,  my  friend,  purfuc  thy  healthful  toil, 
Difpofe  thy  ground,  and  meliorate  thy  foil ; 
Range  thy  young  plants  in  walks,  or  clumps,  or 

bowers,- 

Diffufe  o'er  funny  banks  thy  fragrant  flowers; 
And,  while  the  new  creation  round  thee  fprings, 
Enjoy  uncheck'd  the  guiltlefs  blifs  it  fprings ; 
But  hope  no  more.    Though  fancy  forward  ftray 
There  fcenes  of  diftant  pleafure  to  furvey, 
To  expatiate  fondly  o'er  the  future  grove, 
1'he  happy  haunt  of  friendfhip  arid  of  love ; 
Know,  each  fair  image  form'd  within  thy  mind, 
Far  wide  of  truth  thy  fickening  fight  fhall  find ! 

TO  AN  ABSENT  FRIEND. 

WHILE  thou  far  hence  on  Albion's  fouthern  fhore 
View'ft  her  white  rocks,  and  hear'ft  her  ocean 

roar ; 

Through  fcenes,  where  we  together  ftray'd,  I  ftray, 
And  think  o'er  talk  of  many  a  long-paft  day. 

That  favourite  park  now  tempts  my  fteps  again, 
On  whofe  green  turf  fo  oft  at  eafe  we've  lain  ; 
While  Hertford's  turrets  rofe  in  profpe<St  fair, 
And  my  fond  thought  beheld  my  Sylvia  there; 
And  much  the  mule  rehears'd  in  carelefs  lays 
The  lover's  fufferings,  and  the  beauty's  praife. 

Thofe  elm-crown'd  fields  now  oft  my  waJk  in 
vite, 

Whence  Lee's  wide  vale  lies  pleafant  to  the  fight; 
Where,  as  our  view  o'er  towns  and  villas  roll'd, 
Our  fancy  imag'd  how  they  look'd  of  old; 
When  Gothic  manfions  there  uprear'd  their  towers, 
Their  halls  for  banquet,  and  for  reft  their  bowery, 

But,  O  my  friend  !  whene'er  I  feek  thefe  fcenes 
Of  lovely  profpecls  and  delightful  greens; 
Regardlefs  idly  of  the  joys  poffefs'd, 
I  dream  of  days  to  come,  of  days  more  bleil, 
When  thou  with  me  fhalt  wander  here  once  more, 
And  we  fhall  talk  again  our  fav'rite  topics  o'er. 

On  time's  fmooth  current,  as  we  glide  along, 
Thus  expectation  ever  tunes  her  fong  : 

*  "This  cettfttre  may  feem  too  general— perhaps  it  it 
fa.  Silt  mujl  it  not  be  allowed  that  the  put  lie  is  capri 
cious  in  btjloiving  its  honours  ?  Does  not  Wcjlnnnf.cf 
Abbey  JLoiv  monuments  erefied  to  men,  as  facts,  ii-ho  had 
little  or  no  title  to  the  name,  -while  it  contains  no  i:tenia~ 
rials  tfttirlttrt  of 'far fnferlor  merit? 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


773 


*  Fair  thefe  green  banks  with  gaudy  flow'rets 

4  bloom, 

'  Sweet  breathe  thefe  gales,  diffufing  rich  perfume; 
'  Heed,  heed  them  not,  but  carelefsly  pafs  by, 

*  To-morrow  fairer,  fweeter  will  fupply.' 
To-morrow  comes — the  fame  the  fyren's  lay — 

*  To-merrow  fweeter   gales,  and   flow'rets   ftill 

'  more  gay." 

THE  SHEPHERD'S  ELEGY, 

OCCASIONED  BV  THF.   DEATH    o£  AN  INGENIOUS 
FRIEND. 

UPON  a  bank,  with  fpreading  boughs  o'erhung, 
Of  pollard  oak,  brown  elm,  and  hornbeam  gray, 
The  faded  fern  and  ruffet  gi  afs  among, 
While  rude  winds  fwept  the  yellow  leaves  away, 
And  fcatter'd  o'er  the  ground  the  wild  fruits  lay; 
As  from  the  churchyard  came  the  village  throng, 
Down  fat  a  rural  bard,  and  rais'd  his  mournful 
fong. 

'  Nature's  beft  gifts,  alas,  in  vain  we  prize  ! 

*  The  powers  that  pleafe,  the  powers  that  pleafure 

'  gain! 

'  For  O  with  them,  in  full  proportion,  rife 
'  The  powers  of  giving  and  of  feeling  pain ! 
'  Why  from  my  breaft  now  burfts  this  plaintive 

'  ftrain  ! 
'  Genius,  my  friend !  with  all  its  charms  was  thine, 

*  And  fenfibility  too  exquifite  is  mine ! 

'  There  low  he  lies ! — that  head  in  duft  repos'd 
'  Whofe   adbive    thought   fcann'd   every   various 
'  theme ! 

*  Clos'd  is  that  eye,  for  ever,  ever  clos'd, 

'  Whence  wont  the  blaze  of  fentiment  to  beam  ! 

*  Mute  is  that  tongue,  whence  flow'd  the  copious 

'  ftream 

*  Of  eloquence,  whofe  moral  lore  fo  rare 

'  Delighted  andimprov'd  the  liftening  young  and 
«  fair. 

'  Witnefs  for  me,  ye  rain-polluted  rills; 

Ye  defart  meads,  that  one  brown  hue  difplay; 

Ye  rude  eaft  winds,  whofe  breath  the  dank  air 

'  chills; 

Ye  hovering  clouds,  that  veil  the  fun's  faint  ray ! 
Witnefs,  as  annual  here  my  fteps  ftiall  ftray, 
How  his  dear  image  thought  fhall  ftill  recal, 
And  oft  the  figh  ftiall  heave,  and  oft  the  tear 
.«  ftiall  fall!' 

As  ceafe  the  murmurs  of  the  mantling  pool, 
As  ceafe  the  whifpers  of  the  poplar  fpray, 
While  o'er  the  vale  the  white  mift  rifes  cool 
At  the  calm  funfet  of  a  fummer's  day — 
So  foftly,  fweetly  ceas'd  the  ihepherd's  lay: 
While  down  the  pathway  to  the  hamlet  plain 
Rcturn'd,  with  lingering  fteps,  the  penfive  rural 
train. 

On  tie  Ingenious  Mr.  Jones' 't  Elegant  Truncations  and 
Imitations  of  Eajtern  Poetry,  anil  bis  Rtfolution  to 
decline  Tranjlaiing  the  Perfian  Poets. 

THE  Afian  mufe,  a  ftranger  fair! 
Becomes  at  length  Britannia's  care ; 
And  Hafi's  lays,  and  Sadi's  ftrains, 
Rcfound  along  curThnmct's  plains. 


They  fmg  not  all  of  ftreams  and  bowers, 
Or  banquet  fcenes,  or  focial  hours; 
Nor  all  of  beauty's  blooming  charms, 
Or  war's  rude  fields,  or  feats  of  arms; 
But  freedom's  lofty  notes  (incere, 
And  virtue's  moral  lore  fevere, 
But  ah  :  they  ling  for  us  no  more ! 
The  fcarcely-tafted  pleafure's  o'er ! 
For  he,  the  bard  whofe  tuneful  ar/t 
Can  beft  their  varied  themes  impart— 
For  he,  alas !  the  talk  declines, 
And  tafte  at  lofs  irreparable  repines. 

HYMN  FROM  PSALM  VIII. 

ALMIGHTY  Pow'r!  amazing  are  thy  ways; 
Above  our  knowledge,  and  above  our  praife ! 
How  all  thy  works  thy  excellence  difplay ! 
How  fair,  how  great,  how  wonderful  are  they ! 
Thy  hand  yon  wide-extended  heav'n  uprais'd, 
Yon  wide-extended  heav'n  with  ftars  emblaz'd. 
Where  each  bright  orb,  fince  time  his  courfe  be 
gun, 

Has  roll'd  a  mighty  world,  or  fliin'd  a  fun : 
Stupendous  thought !  how  finks  all  human  race  1 
A  point  an  atom  in  the  field  of  fpace  ! 
Yet  ev'n  to  us,  O  Lord,  thy  care  extends, 
Thy  bounty  feeds  us,  and  thy  pow'r  defends; 
Yet  ev'n  to  us,  as  delegates  of  thee, 
Thou  giv'ft  dominion  over  land  and  fea. 
Whate'er  or  walks  on  earth,  or  flits  in  air; 
Whate'er  of  life  the  wat'ry  regions  bear; 
All  thefe  are  ours;  and, for  th'  extenfive  claim, 
We  owe  due  homage  to  thy  facred  name ! 
Almighty  pow'r !  how  wond'rous  are  thy  ways ! 
How  far  above  our  knowledge  and  our  praife  ! 

CONCLUSION. 

TO   A   FRIEND. 

WHEN  erft  th'  enthufiaft  fancy's  reign 

Indulg'd  the  wild  romantic  thought, 

That  wander'd  'midft  Arcadian  vales, 

Sicilian  ftreams,  Arabian  gales; 

Bleft  climes  with  wond'rous  pleafures  fraught, 

Sweet  pleafures,  unalloy'd  with  pain  ! 

When  obfervation's  calmer  view 
Remark'd  the  real  ftate  of  things, 
Whate'er  amufive  one  obtain'd, 
Whate'er  of  ufe  the  other  gain'd, 
To  thee  my  verfe  a  tribute  brings, 
A  tribute  to  thy  friendfhip  due. 

Accept  then  this,  nor  more  require ; 
The  niufe  no  further  talkeffays; 
But,  'midfl  the  fylvan  fcenes,  fhe  loves 
The  falling  rills,  and  whifpering  groves ; 
With  fmilcs  her  labours  paft  furvtys, 
And  quits  the  fyrinx  and  the  lyre. 

VERSES  * 

Occafioned  by  tbe  Defcription  of  the  JEoIian   Her]>y  it 

the  Gentleman's  Magazine, for  February  1754. 
UNTAUGHT  o'er  firings  to  draw  the  rofm'd  bow, 
Or  melting  ftrains  on  the  foft  lute  to  blow, 

*   This  and  the  following  poem   an   reprinted  from 
tie  Ginttlmeuft  Migizinefor  1754  and  1758. 
3  Ciij 


THE  WORKS  OF  SCOTT. 


With  others  long  I  mourn'd  the  want  of  ficill, 
Refounding  roofs  with  harmony  to  fill, 
Till  happy  now  the  JEolian  lyre  is  known, 
And  all  the  powers  of  mufic  are  my  own. 
Swell  all  thy  notes,  delightful  harp,  O  !  fwell ! 
Inflame  thy  poet  to  defcribe  thee  well. 
When  the  full  chorus  rifes  with  the  breeze, 
Or,  flowly  finking,  lefiens  by  degrees, 
To  founds  more  foft  than  amorous  gales  difclofe, 
>  At  evening  panting  on  the  bluftiing  rofe. 
More  fweet  than  all  the  notes  that  organs  breathe, 
Or  tuneful  echoes,  when  they  die,  bequeath  ; 
Oft  where  fome  fylvan  temple  decks  the  grove, 
The  flavc  of  «afy  indolence  I  rove ; 
There  the  wing'd  breeze  the  lifted  fafli  pervades, 
Its  breath  is  mufic,  vocal  all  the  fliades; 
Charm'd  with  the  foothing  found,  at  eafe  reclin'd, 
To  fancy's  pleafing  power  1  yield  my  mind; 
And  now  enchanted  fcenes  around  me  rife, 
And  fome  kind  Ariel  the  foft  air  fupplies  ; 
Now  lofty  Pindus  through  the  fhades  1  view, 
Where  all  the  nine  their  tuneful  art  purfue ; 
To  me  the  found  the  panting  gale  conveys, 
And  all  my  heart  is  ecftafy  and  praife. 
Now  to  Arcadian  plains,  at  once  convey'd, 
Some  fhephcrd's  pipe  delights  his  favourite  maid. 
Mix'd  with  the  murmurs  of  a  neighbouring  ftream, 
I  hear  foft  notes  that  fuit  an  amorous  theme  ! 
Ah !  then  a  victim  to  the  fond  deceit, 
My  heart  begins  with  fierce  defires  to  beat, 
To  fancy'd  fighs,  I  real  fighs  return, 
Ey  turns  I  languish,  and  by  turns  I  burn. 
Ah !  Delia  haite !  and  here  attentive  prove, 
Like  me,  that  "  mufic  is  the  voice  of  love  :" 
So  fhall  I  mourn  my  luftic  ftrainsno  more, 
While  pleas' d  you  liflen,  who  could  irown  before. 
July  I7j8. 

'          TO  FEAR. 

O  THOU,  dread  foe  of  honour,  wealth,  and  fame, 
Whofe  touch  can  quell  the  ftroug,  the  fierce  can 

tame, 

Relentlefs  fear !  ah  !  why  did  fate  ordain 
My  trembling  heart  to  own  thy  iron  reign  ? 
There  are,  thrice  happy  !  who  difdain  thy  fway, 
The  merchant  wand'ring  o'er  the  wat'ry  way ; 
The  chief  ferene  before  th'  affaulted  wall ; 
The  climbing  ftatefmen  thoughtlefs  of  his  fall ; 
All  whom  the  love  of  wealth  or  pow'r  infpires, 
And  all  who  burn  w'.th  proud  ambition's  fires; 
But  peaceful  bards  thy  conftant  prefence  know, 
O  thou  t>f  cv'ry  glorious  deed  t(ie  foe  ! 
Of  thee  the  filent  ftudiousrace  complains, 
And  learning  groans  a  captive  in  thy  chains: 
The  fecret  wrih  when  fome  fair  object  moves, 
And  cautious  reafon  what  we  wifti  approver, 
Thy  gorgon  front  forbids  to  grafp  the  prize, 
And  leas  are  fpread  between,  and  mountains  rife  : 
Thy  magic  arts  a  thoufand  phantoms  raife, 
And  fancy'd  deaths  and  dangers  fill  our  ways ; 
"With  fmiling  hope  you  wage  eternal  ftrife, 
And  envious  fnatch  the  cup  of  joy  from  life. 
O  leave,  tremendous  pow'r  !  the  blamelefs  breaft, 
Of  guilt  alone,  the  tyrant  and  the  gueft  ; 
Co,  and  thy  train  of  fable  horrors  fpread 
Where  murder  meditates  the  future  dead, 


Where  rapine  watches  for  the  gloom  of  nighf, 
And  lawlefs  paffion  pants  for  other's  right  j 
Go  to  the  bad,  but  from  the  good  recede, 
No  more  the  foe  of  ev'ry  glorious  deed. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

THE  author,  fn  the  courfe  of  his  literary  inqui 
ries,  has  had  reafon  to  believe  that  the  productions 
of  fome  writers  have  not  unfrequemly  received 
very  confiderable  alterations  and  improvements 
from  the  hands'  of  their  friends.  What  he  has 
been  told  of  others,  may  poffibly  be  fufpected  of 
himfelf  ;  he  therefore  takes  the  liberty  to  obferve, 
that,  although  he  has  often  derived  advantage  from 
the  judkious  remarks  of  a  few  kind  acquaintance, 
to  whom  his  MSS.  have  been  fhown,  he  is  not  in 
debted  to  them,  nor  indeed  to  any  perfon,  for  the 
infertion  of  a  fingle  line. 

From  the  works  of  preceding  poets,  memory  has 
fometimes  fupplied  him  with  turns  of  expreflion» 
which,  at  the  inftant  of  compofing,  he  imagined 
were  his  own  ;  and  at  other  times  he  has  happened 
on  lines  ufed  by  writers,  whofe  performances  he. 
had  not  then  feen.  Some  inftances  of  fuch  uncon- 
fcious  plagiarism,  and  accidental  coincidence,  are- 
here  pointed  out  as  matter  of  curiofity  ;  other* 
may  poffibly  exifl,  though  he  is  not  apprized  of 
them. 

Blows  not  a  flow'ret  in  the  enamell'd  vale, 
Shines  not  a  pebble,  &c. 

Elegies  Defcripti-ue  and  Moral,  p.  15, 

Lurks  not  a  Hone  enrich'd  with  lively  ftain, 
Blooms  not  a  flower  amid  the  vernal  {lore, 
Falls  not  a  plume  on  India's  diftant  plain, 
Glows  not  a  fhell  on  Adria's  rocky  fhore— 

Sbenjione's  Works,  vol.  i.  8vo.  p.  14®. 

Perhaps  Shenflone  was  indebted  to  Akenfide  : 

Not  a  breeze 

Flies  o'er  the  meadow,  not  a  cloud  imbibes 
The  fetting  fun's  effulgence,  not  a  ftrain 
From  all  the  tenants  of  the  warbling  fliade 
Afccnds    • 

PUafures  of  Imagination,  book  iii.  line  593. 

But  claims  their  wonder  and  excites  their  praife. 
Elegies  Defcriptivt  and  Aforal,  p.  29. 
Provoke  our  wonder  and  tranfcend  our  praife. 

jiddifon  to  Drydcn,  Worts-,  vol.  i.  p.  3. 

Or  rear  the  new-bound  (heaves  along  the  lands. 
Elegies  Defcriptive  and  Moral,  p.  37. 
Or  range  my  fheaves  along  the  funny  land. 

Hammond,  Elegy  xiii.  1.  12. 

No  more  thofe  noftrils  breathe  the  vital  air. 

Elegies  Defcfipti-vi  and  Moral,  p.  46. 
That  while  my  noftrils  draw  the  vital  air. 

Pope,  Rape  of  the  Loci,  canto  iv. 

In  one  fad  fpot  where  kindred  aflies  lie. 

Elegy  -written  at  Amviell,  1768,  p.  53. 
In  one  lone  fpot  their  mouldering  aflies  lie. 

Mr.  Keates  Ruins  of  Netley  Abbey,  1764. 


Of  claffic  lore  accompanied  my  walk. 


.  76 


•MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES. 


775 


In  fumptuous  cars  accompanied  his  march. 

LeoniJas,  book  viii. 

And  his  wild  eye-balls  roll  with  horrid  glare. 

Arabian  Eclogue,  p.  IJ5' 
And  his  red  eye-balls  roll  with  living  fire. 

'  Dry  den's  Meleager  and  Atalanta. 

And  one  forlorn  inhabitant  contain'd. 

Indian  Eclogue,  p.  148. 
The  cities  no  inhabitant  contain'd. 

faivke't  Song  of  Deborah  ;  Poems,  p.  IOO. 

Again  he  look'd,  again  he  figh'd.  Ode  ii.  p.  175. 
And  figh'd  and  look'd—  Dryden's  Alexander's  Feafi. 
There  poverty,  grim  fpe&re !  rofe.  Ode  xxi.  p.  228. 

Scar'd  at  the  fpecftre  of  pale  poverty. 

Pope,  Imitation  of  Hot  ate,  book  ii.  cpifl.  I. 

Each  paftoral  fight,  and  every  paftoral  found. 

Efijlle  i.  p.  266. 

Defignedly  imitated  from  Milton : 
Each  rural  fight,  each  rural  found. 

All  pure  as  vernal  blofloms  newly  blown. 

Elegy  written  at  Amivell.  1768. 


All  pure  as  bloflbms  which  are  newly  blown. 
Wm.  Browne's  Britannia's  Paftorals,\ol.  i.  p.  IOI. 

Davie's  Edition  of  Browne's  Works  was  publiCi- 
ed  in  1772.  The  Author  had  never  feen  any  of 
the  old  editions,  nor  any  extract  from  them. 

Hafte,  bring  my  deeds  fupreme  in  ftrength  and 

grace. 
Fird  in  the  fight,  and  fleeted  in  the  chace. 

Arabian  Eclogue,  p.  135. 

This  Eclogue  was  written  in  1777.  In  a  volume 
of  Poems  by  the  ingenious  Mr.  Maurice,  printed 
in  1779,  the  Author  met  with  the  following  near 
refemblance : 

Full  fifty  deeds  I  boad  of  fwifteft  pace, 
Fierce  in  the  fight,  and  foremod  in  the  race. 

In  the  Amoebsean  Eclogue,  intituled  The  De- 
fcribers,  p.  IOI,  loz,  a  part  of  the  imagery  bear  a 
confiderable  refemblance  to  fome  defcriptions  in  a 
little  collection  of  pleafing  fonnets,  by  Mr.  £am- 
fylde,  1778;  which  collection  the  Author  never 
law  till  after  his  own  volume  was  printed.  This 
is  a  proof,  that  two  writers,  both  painting  from 
nature,  will  often  unknowingly  coincide  very  near- 
ly  in  felection,  arrangement,  and  expreffion, 
3  C  iiij 


T  R  B 

POETICAL   WORKS 

O  F 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  LL.D. 

Containing  his 

LONDON,  ll  EPITAPHS, 

VANITY  OF  HUMAN  WISHES,  SONGS, 

IRENE,  PROLOGUES, 

ODES,  IMPROMPTUS, 

XLEGIES,  l|  TRANSLATIONS, 

tfc.  &c.  &c. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

LIFE  OF  <THE  AUTHOR. 


Tranfcendent  genius,  whofe  prolific  vein 

Ne'er  knew  the  frigid  poet's  toil  and  pain, 

To  whom  Apollo  opens  all  his  ftore, 

And  every  Mufe  prefents  her  facred  lore ; 

Say,  pow'rful  JOHNSON,  whence  thy  verfe  is  fraught 

With  fo  much  grace,  fuch  energy  of  theught ; 

Whether  thy  Juvenal  inftrudts  the  age 

In  chafter  numbers,  and  new-points  his  rage ; 

Or  fair  Irene  fees,  alas,  too  late, 

Her  innocence  exchang'd  for  guilty  ftate : 

Whate'er  you  write,  in  every  golden  line 

Sublimity  and  elegance  combine ; 

Thy  nervous  phrafe  impreffes  every  foul, 

While  harmony  gives  rapture  to  the  whole. 

MR.  MURPHY'S  POETICAL  EPISTII  TO  JOHNSON, 


EDINBURGH: 

TRINTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE. 
AHH»  1795 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 


THE  events  of  the  'life  of  JOHNSON,  "  the  brighteft  ornament  of  the  eighteenth  century,"  wh» 
has  written  the  lives  of  fo  many  eminent  perfons,  and  fo  much  enriched  our  national  (lock  of  criti- 
cifm  and  biography,  have  been  related  by  friend  and  foe,  by  panegyrifts  and  fatirical  defamers,  by- 
the  lovers  of  anecdote,  and  the  followers  of  party,  with  a  diligence  of  refearch,  a  minutenefs  of  de 
tail,  a  variety  of  illuftration,  and  a  felicity  of  defcription,  unexampled  in  the  records  of  literary 
biography. 

Befides  feveral  flight  (ketches  of  his  life,  by  unknown  authors,  taken,  fometimes  with  a 
favourable,  flattering  pencil,  fometimes  in  the  broader  ftyle  of  caricature,  which  lie  fcattered  in  the 
periodical  publications  of  the  laft  ten  years ;  voluminous  biographical  accounts  of  him  have  been 
given  to  the  world  by  Thomas  Tyers,  Efq.  Mrs.  Piozzi,  Dr.  Towers,.  Sir  John  Hawkins,  Jamefc 
Bofwell,  Efq.  and  Arthur  Murphy,  Efq.  who  were  his  moft  intimate  friends,  and  wrote  from  per- 
fenal  knowledge.  Their  feveral  publications,  which  place  his  character  in  very  different,  and  often 
oppofite  points  of  light,  by  exhibiting  a  ftriking  likenefs  of  the  features  of  his  mind,  which  were 
ftrong  and  prominent,  and  by  recording  fo  confiderable  a  portion  of  his  wifdom  and  wit.have  erquifitely 
gratified  the  lovers  of  literary  anecdotes,  and  largely  contributed  to  the  inftruction  and  entertainment 
«f  mankind.  The  publications  of  Mr.  Tyers,Mrs.  Piozzi,  Dr.  Towers,  and  Mr.  Murphy,  come  under  the 
defcription  of  "  biographical  Sketches,"  "  Anecdotes,"  and  "  Effays."  Thofe  of  Sir.  John  Hawkins 
and  Mr.  Bofwell  are  more  elaborately  compofed,  and  entitle  them  to  the  exclufive  appellation  of  his 
biographers. 

On  an  attentive  perufal,  it  will  be  found  that  the  narrative  of  Sir  John  Hawkins  contain*  a  col 
lection  of  curious  anecdotes  and  observations,  which  few  men  but  its  author  could  have  brought  to 
gether  5  but  a  very  fmall  part  of  it  relates  to  the  perlbn  who  is  the  fubject  of  the  wqrk.  He  ap 
pears  to  be  a  worthy,  and  often  a  well-informed  man,  but  he  poflefles  neither  animation  nor  cor- 
rectnefs,  expanfion  of  intellect,  nor  elegance  of  tafte.  He  writes  without  much  feeling  or  fentireent  ? 
his  work  is  heavy,  cold,  and  prolix ;  but  we  difcover  in  it  many  gleams  of  good  fenfe,  and  openings  of 
humanity,  fometimes  checked  by  ignorance,  and  fometimes  by  prejudice. 

The  narrative  of  Mr.  Bofwell  is  written  with  more  comprch.enfi.on  of  mind,  accuracy  of  intelli 
gence,  clearnefs  of  narration,  and  elegance  of  language ;  and  is  more  ftrongly  marked  by  the  dcfi- 
dtrium  cbari  capitis,  which  is  the  firft  feature  of  affectionate  remembrance.  He  was  peculiarly  fitted 
for  the  talk  of  recording  the  fayings  and  actions  of  this  extraordinary  man,  by  his  affiduous  attention. 
From  the  commencement  of  his  acquaintance  with  him  in  1763,  he  had  the  fcherne  of  writing  his  life 
conftantly  in  view ;  and  continued  his  collections,  with  his  approbation  and  affiftance,  with  unwearied 
diligence,  and  meritorious  perfeverance,  for  upwards  of  twenty  years.  He  gave  a  fpecimen  of  his 
being  able  to  preferve  his  converfation,  in  an  authentic  and  lively  manner,  in  his  "  Journal  of  a  Tour 
to  the  Hebrides,"  Ivo,  1786.  His  veneration  and  efteero  for  his  friend,  induced  him,  at  a  fubfequent 
period,  to  go  through  the  laborious  talk  of  digefting  and  arranging  the  immenfe  mafs  of  materials, 
which  his  own  diligence,  and  the  kindnefs  of  others,  had  furnifhed  him,  and  of  forming  the  hiftory 
of  his  life ;  which  was  published  in  a  vols.  410, 1791,  and  was  received  by  the  world  with  moft  extra- 
erdiaary  avidity. 


7?o  THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

XenophorTs  Memorabilia  of  Socrates  may  pofllbly  have  fuggefted  to  Mr.  Bofwell  the  idea 
of  preferving  and  giving  to  the  world  the  Memorabilia  of  his  venerable  friend  ;  but  he  profefies 
to  have  followed  the  model  of  Mafon  in  his  "  Memoirs  of  Gray."  He  has,  however,  the  advantage 
of  Mafon,  in  the  quantity,  variety,  and  richnefs  of  his  materials.  His  work  may  be  referred  to  that 
clafs  of  compilements  known  by  the  name  of  "  Books  in  Ana."  To  compare  it  with  Monnoye's  edi 
tion  of  the  Menagiana,  one  of  the  moft  efteemed  of  thefe  publications,  would  not  be  doing  juftice 
ta  it.  The  incidental  eonverfatiortf  between  fo  eminent  an  inftructor  ef  mankind,  and  his.  friends, 
the  numerous  body  of  anecdotes,  literary  and  biographical,  and  the  letters  which  are  occafionally 
interfperfed,  and  naturally  introduced,  in  the  narrative  part  of  Mr.  Bofwell's  ample  performance, 
open  and  difclofe  to  the  eager  curiofity  of  rational  and  laudable  inquiry,  an  immenfe  ftorehoufe  of 
mental  treafure,  which  far  exceeds,  in  merit  and  value,  the  voluminous  collections  of  the  wife  and 
witty  fayings  of  the  learned  and  ingenious  men  of  other  nations.  With  fome  venial  exceptions  on 
the  fcore  of  egotifm  and  indifcriminate  admiration,  his  work  exhibits  the  moft  copious,  interefting, 
and  finiflied  picture  of  the  life  and  opinions  of  an  eminent  man,  that  was  ever  executed ;  and  is  juftly  , 
'efteemed  one  of  the  moft  inftructive  and  entertaining  books  in  the  Englifh  language. 

The  eccentricities  of  Mr.  Bofwell,  it  is  ufelefs  to  detail.  They  have  already  been  the  fubject  of 
lidicule  in  various  different  forms  and  publications,  by  men  of  fuperficial  underftanding,  and  ludi 
crous  fancy.  Many  have  fuppofed  him  to  be  a  mere  relater  of  the  fay  ings  of  others;  but  he  poflefied 
confiderable  intellectual  powers,  for  which  he  has  not  had  fufficient  credit.  It  is  manifeft  to 
every  reader  of  any  difcernment,  that  he  could  never  have  collected  fuch  a  mafs  of  information, 
and  jufl  observations  on  human  life,  as  his  very  valuable  work  coptains,  without  great  ftrength 
of  mind,  and  much  various  knowledge  ;  as  he  never  could  have  difplayed  his  collections  in  fo  lively 
a  manner,  had  he  not  pofiefied  a  very  picturefque  imagination,  or,  in  other  words,  had  he  not  had 
a  very  happy  turn  for  poetry,  as  well  as  for  humour  and  for  wit. 

This  lively  and  ingenious  biographer,  is  now  beyond  the  reach  of  praife  or  cenftire.  He  died 
at  London,  May  19.  1795,  in  the  55th  year  of  his  age.  His  death  is  an  irreparable  lofs  to  Englifh 
literature.  He  had  many  failings ;  and  many  virtues,  and  many  amiable  qualities,  which  predomi 
nated  over  the  frailties  incident  to  human  nature.  He  will  be  long  regretted  by  a  wide  circle  of 
friends,  to  whom  his  good  qualities  and  focial  talents  always  made  his  company  a  valuable  acceffion. 
The  facts  ftated  in  the  prefent  account  are  chiefly  taken  from  the  narratives  of  Sir  John 
Hawkins,  and  Mr.  Bofwell ;  with  the  addition  of  fuch  particulars  of  the  progrefs  of  his  mind 
and  fortunes,  as  the  fubfequent  narrative  of  Mr.  Murphy,  and  the  moft  refpectable  periodical  pu 
blications  of  the  laft  ten  years,  have  fupplied. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON  was  born  at  Litchfield  in  Stafford  (hire,  September  7. 1709.  His  father,  Michael 
Johnfon,  was  a  native  of  Cubley,  in  Dei  by  (hire,  of  obfcure  extraction,  who  fettled  in  Litchfield  as  a 
bookfeller,  arid  carried  on  that  bufinefs  at  all  the  neighbouring  towns  on  market  days  ;  but  was  fo 
refpectable  as  to  be  made  one  of  the  magirtrates  of  that  city.  He  was  a  man  of  a  large  and  robuft 
body,  and  of  a  ftrong  and  active  mind ;  but  was  always  fubject  to  a  morbid  melancholy.  He 
was  a  zealous  high-church-man  and  Jacobite ;  though  he  reconciled  himfelf  by  cafuiftical  argu 
ments  of  expediency  and  neceffity,  to  take  the  oaths  impofed  by  the  prevailing  power.  He  was 
a  pretty  good  Latin  fcholar ,  and  being  a  man  of  good  fenfe  and  fkill  in  his  trade,  he  acquired  a 
reafonable  fliare  of  wealth,  of  which  he  afterwards  lott  the  greateft  part,  by  engaging  unfuccefsfully 
in  the  manufacture  of  parchment.  His  mother,  Sarah  Ford,  defcended  of  an  ancient  race  of  fub- 
ftantial  yeomanry  in  Warwickshire,  was  the  fitter  of  Dr.  Jofeph  Ford,  a  phyfician  of  confiderable 
eminence,  and  father  of  the  famous  Cornelius  Ford,  Chaplain  to  Lord  Chefterfield,  fuppofed  to  be 
the  Parfon  in  Hogarth's  "  Modern  Midnight  Converfatjon,"  a  man  of  great  parts,  but  of  very  profli 
gate  manners.  She  was  a  woman  of  diftinguifhed  underftanding,  prudence,  and  piety.  They  were  well 
advanced  in  years  when  they  married,  and  had  only  another  child,  named  Nathaniel,  who  feems  to 
have  fucceedcd  his  father  in  his  bufinefs;  but  died  in  1737,  in  the  25th  year  ef  his  age. 

During  the  period  of  infancy,  all  children  are  prodigies  of  form  and  underftanding  to  their  pa 
rent*.    With  a  natural  fondnefs,  they  exaggerate  every  fymptom  of  fenfe  into  the  perfection  of 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  7li 

wifdom,  and  defcrihe  every  feature  with  an  adventitious  grace.  If  the  object  of  their  admiration 
fliauld  at  more  mature  years  become  diftinguiftied  for  excellence,  it  is  hoped  that  we  may  believ* 
wonders  of  the  child,  becaufe  we  have  feen  greatnefs  in  the  man.  Hence,  in  our  fondnefs  for  the 
marvellous,  the  traditions  of  the  nurlery,  refpecting  luch  perfons,  are  amplified  beyond  the  bounds  of 
credibility,  and  recited  with  all  the  confidence  of  truth. 

Every  great  genius  muft  begin  with  a  prodigy  ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  fuppofed  that  Johnfon  fhould 
be  without  atteftations  of  thefe  miracles  of  early  genius,  which  are  believed  by  fome,  to  be  as  ne- 
ceffary  to  the  attainment  of  future  pre-eminence,  as  that  fruits  mould  be  preceded  by  the  bloffom. 
Among  other  ftories  of  his  infant  precocity  generally  circulated,  and  generally  believed,  we  are 
told  by  Mrs.  Fiozzi,  and  Sir  John  Hawkins,  that,  at  the  age  of  three  years,  he  trod  by  accident  upon 
one  of  a  brood  of  eleven  ducks,  and  killed  it,  and  upon  that  occafiyn  made  the  following  verfes: 

Here  lies  good  mafter  duck, 

Whom  Samuel  Johnlbn  trod  on  ; 
If  it  had  liv'd,  it  had  been  good  luck, 

For  then  we'd  had  an  odd  one. 

This  prodigy  is  fcarcely  exceeded  by  the  bees  on  Plato's  lips,  or  the  doves  that  covered  the  infant 
poet  with  leaves  and  flowers;  for,  how  fliould  a  child  of  three  years  old  make  regular  verfes, and  in 
alternate  rhyme  ?  The  internal  evidence  is  fufficient  to  counterbalance  any  teftiraony  that  thefe 
verfes  could  be  the  production  of  a  child  of  fuch  an  early  age.  But,  fortunately,  credulity  is 
relieved  from  the  burden  of  doubt,  by  Jahnfon's  having  himfelf  aflured  Mr.  Bofwell,  that  they  were 
made  by  his  father,  who  wilhed  them  to  pafs  for  his  fon's.  He  added,  "  my  father  was  a  foolilh 
old  man,  that  is  to  fay,  foolim  in  talking  of  his  children." 

He  derived  from  his  parents,  or  from  an  unwholefome  nurfe,  the  diftemper  called  the  King's  Evil. 
Jacobites  at  that  time  believed  in  the  efficacy  of  the  royal  touch.  (  His  mother,  yielding  to  this  fu- 
perftitious  notion,  in  her  anxiety  for  his  cure,  when  he  was  two  years  old  (by  the  advice  of  Sir 
John  Floyer,  then  a  phyfician  at  Litchfield),  carried  him  to  London,  where  he  was  actually  touched 
by  Queen  Anne.  But  the  difeafe,  too  obftinate  to  yield  to  remedies  more  powerful,  greatly  dif- 
figured  his  countenance,  naturally  harm  and  rugged,  impaired  his  hearing,  and  deprived  him  of  the 
fight  of  his  left  eye. 

He  was  firft  taught  to  read  Englifli  by  Dame  Oliver,  a  widow,  who  kept  a  fchool  for  young  children 
in  Litchfield.  His  next  inftructor,  in  Englilh,  was  a  mafter  whom  he  familiarly  called  Tom  Brown» 
who  he  faid  "  publirtied  a  fpelling  book,  and  dedicated  it  to  the  UNIVERSE."  He  began  to  learn 
Latin  in  the  free-fchool  of  Litchfield,  at  firft  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Hawkins,  the  under-mafter, 
whom  he  has  defcribed  as  "  a  man  fkilful  in  his  little  way."  In  about  two  years  he  rofe  to  be 
under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  Hunter,  the  head-mailer,  a  very  refpectable  teacher,  and  a  worthy  man; 
but  who,  according  to  his  account,  was  "  very  fevere,  and  wrong  headedly  fevere."  He  had  for 
his  fchool  fellows,  Dr.  James,  inventor  of  the  fever-powder,  Mr.  Lowe,  canon  of  Windfor,  Dr. 
Taylor,  rector  of  Aflibourne,  and  Mr.  Hector,  furgeon  in  Birmingham,  with  whom  he  contracted  a 
particular  intimacy. 

While  at  fchool,  he  is  faid  by  Mr.  Hector  to  have  been  indolent  and  averfe  from  ftudy.  But 
the  procraftination  of  his  duties  feems  neither  to  have  prevented  the  timely  performance  of  his  ex- 
ercifes,  nor  to  have  blemiflied  them  with  inaccuracies ;  for  "  he  was  never  known  to  have  been 
corrected  at  fchool,  unlefs  for  talking  and  diverting  other  boys  from  their  bufinefs  "  Indeed,  fuch 
was  the  fuperiority  of  his  talents  above  thofe  of  his  companions,  that  three  of  the  boys,  of  whom 
Mr.  Hector  was  fometimes  one,  are  faid  to  have  aflembled  fubmiffively  every  morning,  to  carry 
him  triumphantly  upon  their  moulders  to  fchool.  This  ovation  is  believed  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  to  have 
been  an  honour  paid  to  the  early  predominance  of  his  intellectual  powers  alone  ;  but  they  who 
remember  what  boys  are,  and  who  confider  that  Johnfon's  corporeal  prowefs  was  by  no  means  de- 
fpicable,  will  be  apt  to  fufpect  that  the  homage  was  enforced,  at  leaft  as  much  by  awe  of  the  one, 
as  by  admiration  of  the  other. 

After  having  refided  for  fome  months  at  the  houfe  of  his  coufin,  Cornelius  Ford,  who  aflifted  him 
jn  the  daffies,  he  was,  by  his  advice,  at  the  age  of  afteei),  removed  to  the  fchool  of  Stourbiidge  in  War-. 


7*2  THE   LIFE   OF   JOHNSON. 

cefterfliire,  of  which  Mr.  Went  worth  was  then  mafter,  whom  he  has  defcribed  as  "  a  very  able  man  ; 
but  an  idle  man,  and  to  me  unreafonably  fevere.  Yet  he  taught  me  a  great  deal."  He  feems  to 
have  been  there  in  the  double  capacity  of  a  fcholar  and  ufher,  repaying  the  learning  he  acquired 
from  his  mafter,  by  the  inftruction  he  gave  to  the  younger  boys.  Parfon  Ford  he  has  defcribed  ia 
hi*  "  Life  of  Fenton,"  as  "  a  clergyman  at  that  time  too  well  known,  \vhofe  abilities,  inftead  of  fur- 
nifhiiig  convivial  merriment  to  the  voluptuous  and  the  difiolute,  might  have  enabled  him  to  eicel 
among  the  virtuous  and  the  wife." 

He  thus  difcrirainated  to  Dr.  Percy,  Bifhop  of  Droroore,  his  progrefs  at  his  two  grammar-fchools : 
**  At  one  I  learnt  much  in  the  fchool,  but  little  from  the  mafter;  in  the  other  I  learnt  much  from 
the  mafter,  but  little  in  the  fchool." 

He  remained  at  Stourbridge  little  more  than  a  year,  and  then  returned  home,  where  he  purfued 
his  ftudies;  but  not  upon  any  regular  plan.  Of  this  method  of  attaining  knowledge,  he  feems 
ever  after  to  have  entertained  a  favourable  opinion,  and  to  have  recommended  it,  not  without  rea- 
fon,  to  young  men,  as  the  fureft  means  of  enticing  them  to  learn.  What  he  read  was  not  works  of 
mere  amutement.  "  They  were  not  voyages  and  travels,  but  all  literature,  all  ancient  authors,  all 
manly ;  though  but  little  Greek,  only  fome  of  Anacreon  and  Hefiod.  But  in  this  irregular  manner, 
I  had  looked  into  a  great  many  books,  which  were  not  commonly  known  at  the  univerfities,  where 
they  feldom  read  any  books  but  what  are  put  into  their  hands  by  their  tutors ;  fo  that  when  I 
came  to  Oxford,  Dr.  Adams  told  me  I  was  the  belt  qualified  for  the  univerfity,  that  he  had  ever 
known  come  there." 

He  had  already  given  feveral  proofs  of  his  poetical  genias,  both  in  his  fchool  exercifes,  and  in 
•tber  occafional  compositions.  Of  thefe  Mr.  Bofwell  obtained  a  confiderable  collection,  from  Mr. 
Wentworth,  the  fan  of  his  mafter,  and  Mr.  Hector,  his  fchool-fellow  ;  of  which  he  has  preferved  fome 
tranflations  from  Homer,  Virgil,  Horace,  tfc.  Unfortunately  the  communications  of  Mr.  Went 
worth  are  not  diftinguifhed  from  thofe  of  Mr.  Hector.  Such  a  precaution  would  have  enabled  us 
to  have  diftinguifhed  with  certainty,  the  efforts  of  the  boy,  from  the  production  of  riper  years.  His 
tranflation  of  thejir/l  eclogue  of  ^irgil,  is  not  fo  harmonious  as  that  from  thejixtb  book  of  Homer  ; 
and  both  are  inferior  in  this  refpect  to  thofe  which  he  has  made  of  the  odes  of  Horace.  Indeed,  irr 
the  ftyle  and  manner  of  verfi5cation  ufed  in  the  laft,  and  in  fome  other  of  his  juvenile  pieces,  he 
feems  to  have  made  little  alteration  in  his  more  experienced  days ;  and  it  muft  be  added,  that  in 
point  ef  fmoothriefs,  little  improvement  could  have  been  made. 

After  a  refidence  of  two  years  at  home,  Mr.  Andrew  Corbet,  a  gentleman  of  Shropfhire,  under 
took  to  fupport  him  at  Oxford,  in  the  character  of  companion  to  his  fon,  one  of  his  fchool-fellows, 
•*  though,  in  fact,"  fays  Mr.  Bofwell,  upon  the  authority  of  Dr.  Taylor, "  he  never  received  any  affift- 
ance  \vhatevcr  from  that  gentleman."  He  was  accordingly  entered  a  Commoner  of  Pembroke 
College,  Oxford,  October  31,  1728,  being  then  in  his  nineteenth  year. 

On  the  night  of  his  arrival  at  Oxford,  his  father,  who  had  anxioufly  accompanied  him,  found 
means  to  have  him  introduced  to  Mr.  Jorden,  Fellow  of  Pembroke,  who  was  to  be  bis  tutor.  Ac 
cording  to  Dr.  Adams,  who  was  prefent,  he  feemed  very  full  of  the  merits  of  his  fan,  and  told  the 
company  he  was  a  good  fcholar  and  a  poet,  and  wrote  Latin  verfes.  His  figure  and  manner  feemed 
ftrange  to  them  }  but  he  behaved  modeftly,  and  fat  filent,  till,  upoa  fomeching  which  occurred  in 
the  courfe  of  converfation,  he  fuddenly  ftruck  in,  and  quoted  Macrobius ;  and  this  gave  the  firft 
imprefTion  of  that  extenfive  reading  in  which  he  had  indulged  himfelf.  • 

Of  his  tutor,  Mr.  Jorden,  he  gave  Mr.  Bofwell  the  following  account :  "  He  was  *  very  worthy- 
man,  but  a  heavy  man,  and  I  did  not  profit  much  by  his  inftruction.  Indeed,  I  did  not  attend 
him  much."  He  had,  however,  a  love  and  refpect  for  Jorden,  not  for  his  literature,  but  for  his 
•worth.  "  Whenever  (faid  he)  a  young  man  becomes  Jorden's  pupil,  he  becomes  his  fon.'* 

The  fifth  of  November  was  at  that  time  kept  with  great  folemnity  at  Pembroke  College,  and 
esercifes  upon  the  gunpowder  plot  were  required.  Johnfon  neglected  to  perform  his.  To  apolo 
gize  for  his  neglect,  he  gave  in  a  ihort  copy  of  verfes,  intitled,  Somnium,  containing  a  common 
thought,  "  that  the  mufe  had  come  to  him  in  his  fleep,  and  whifpered  that  it  did  not  become  him 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  }Sj 

tp  write  on  fuch  fubjects  as  politics;  he  fliould  confine  himfelf  to  humbler  themes;"  but  the  verfi- 
ication  was  truly  Virgilian. 

Having  given  fuch  a  fpecimen  of  his  poetical  powers,  he  was  afked  by  Mr.  Jorden  to  tranflate 
Pope's  Me/pah  into  Latin  hexameter  verfe,  as  a  Chriftmas  exercife.  He  performed  it  with  uncommon 
rapidity,  and  in  fo  mafterly  a  manner,  that  he  obtained  great  applaufe  from  it,  which  ever  after  j 
kept  him  high  in  the  eftimation  of  his  college,  and,  indeed,  of  all  the  univerfity.  Pope,  impelled 
by  gratitude  and  tafte,  perhaps  not  unaffifted  by  vanity,  is  reported  to  have  faid  concerning  it, 
"  that  the  author  would  leave  it  a  queftion  for  pofterity,  whether  his  or  mine  be  the  original  ?"  It 
was  firft  printed  by  his  father,  without  his  knowledge  ;  and  afterwards  inferted  in  a  "  Mifcellany,'* 
publifhed  by  fubfcription  at  Oxford,  in  1731,  by  Mr.  John  Hulbands,  Fellow  of  Pembroke  College. 

The  particular  courfe  of  his  reading  while  at  Oxford,  and  during  the  time  of  vacation  which  he  paf- 
fed  at  home,  cannot  be  traced.  From  his  earlieft  years  he  loved  to  read  poetry  and  romances  of  chi 
valry.  He  read  Shakfpeare  at  a  period  fo  early,  that  the  fpeech  of  the  ghoft  in  "  Hamlet"  terrified 
him  when  he  was  alone.  Horace's  odes  were  the  compofitions  he  moft  liked  in  early  life ;  but  it 
was  long  before  he  could  relirti  his  fatires  and  epiftles.  He  told  Mr.  Bofwell,  what  he  Kzdfolidty 
at  Oxford  was  Greek,  not  the  Grecian  hiilorians,  but  Homer  and  Euripides,  and  now  and  then  a 
little  epigram ;  that  the  ftudy  of  which  he  was  moft  fond  was  metaphyfics ;  but  he  had  not  read 
much  even  in  that  way.  We  may  beiabfolutely  certain,  however,  both  from  his  writings  and 
his  converfation,  that  his  reading  was  very  extenfive.  He  projected  a  common-place  book  to  the 
extent  of  fix  folio  volumes,  'but  according  to  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  blank  leaves  far  exceeded  the 
\vritten  ones. 

In  1729,  while  at  Litchfield,  during  the  college  vacation,  the  "  morbid  melancholy"  which  was 
luiking*  in  his  conftitution,  gathered  fuch  ftrength  as  to  afflict  him  in  a  dreadful  manner.  He  was 
overwhelmed  with  an  horrible  hypochondria,  with  perpetual  irritation,  fretfulnefs  and  impatience, 
and  with  a  dejection,  gloom,  and  defpair,  that  made  exiftence  mifery.  He  fancied  himfelf  feized 
by,  or  approaching  to  infanity,  in  conformity  with  which  notion,  he  applied,  when  he  was  at  the 
very  worft,  to  his  godfather,  Dr.  Swinfen,  phyfician  in  Litchfield,  and  put  into  his  hand  a  ftate  of 
his  cafe,  written  in  Latin ;  "  which  fliowed,"  as  Mr.  Bofwell  expreffes  it  "  an  uncommon  vigour, 
mot  only  of  fancy  and  tafte,  but  of  judgment."  That  he  fliould  have  fuppofed  himfelf  approaching; 
to  infanity,  at  the  very  time  when  he  was  giving  proofs  of  a  more  than  ordinary  foundnefs  and  vigour 
of  judgment,  is  lefs  ftrange  than  that  Mr.  Bofwell  mould  co»fider  the  vigour  of  fancy,  which  he  dif- 
f>laytd  on  fuch  a  fubject,  a  proof  of  his  fanity.  It  is  a  common  effect  of  melancholy  to  make  thofe: 
who  are  afflicted  with  it  imagine  that  they  are  actually  fuffering  thofe  evils  which  happen  to  b« 
moft  ftrongly  prefented  to  their  minds.  But  tkere  is  a  clear  distinction  between  a  diforder  which 
affects  only  the  imagination  and  fpirits,  while  the  judgment  is  found,  and  a  diforder  by  which  the 
judgment  itfelf  is  impaired.  Whatever  be  the  arguments  in  favour  of  free-will,  of  volition  unre- 
{trained  by  the  force  and  prevalence  of  motives,  it  muft  be  allowed  that  the  effects  of  reafon  on  the 
human  mind  are  not  at  all  times,  and  on  all  fubjects,  equally  powerful.  The  mind,  like  the  body,  has 
JM  weak  organs ;  in  other  words,  the  imprelBons  on  fome  fubjects  are  fo  deeply  fixed,  that  the  judg 
ment  is  no  longer  able  to  guide  the  operations  of  the  mind  in  reafoning  ou,  or  in  judging  of  them. 
The  imagination  feizes  the  rein,  and  till  the  force  of  the  idea  is  lefiened  from  habit,  the  ufual  powers 
are  fufpended.  But  this  is  not  madnefs ;  for  ftrong  impreflions  of  various  kinds,  will,  in  different 
minds,  produce  fimilar  effects  From  this  difmal  malady,  which  he  "  did  not  then  know  how  to 
manage,"  he  never  afterwards  was  perfectly  relieved ;  and  all  his  labours,  and  all  his  employments, 
were  but  temporary  interruptions  of  its  baleful  influence. 

In  the  hiftory  of  his  mind,  his  religious  progrefs  is  an  important  article.  He  had  been  early  in- 
ftructed  in  the  doctrines  of  the  church  of  England,  by  his  mother,  who  continued  her  pious  care  with 
affiduity,  but  in  his  opinion,  not  with  judgment.  "  Sunday"  faid  he  "was  a  heavy  day  to  me  when 
I  was  a  boy.  My  mother  confined  me  on  Sundays,  and  made  me  read  "The  Whole  Duty  of  Man," 
from  a  grsatpart  of  which  I  could  derive  no  inftruction.  When,  for  inftance,  I  read  the  chapter  on 
jthefr,  which,  from  infancy,  I  had  been  taught  was  wrong,  1  was  uo  more  convinced  that  theft  was 


7g4       .  THE   LIFE   OF   JOHNSON. 

wrong  than  before  ;  fo  there  was  no  acceffion  of  knowledge.  A  boy  fhould  be  introduced  to  fuci 
books  by  having  his  attention  directed  to  the  arrangement,  to  the  ftyle,  and  other  excellencies  of  com- 
pofuion,  that  the  mind  being  thus  engaged  by  an  amufing  variety  of  objects,  may  not  grow  weary." 

He  communicated  to  Mr.  Bofwell  the  following  account  of  "  the  firit  occafion  of  his  thinking  in 
earned  of  religion."  I  fell  into  an  inattention  to  religion,  or  an  indifference  about  it,  in  my  ninth 
year.  The  church  at  Litchfield,  in  which  we  had  a  feat,  wanted  reparation :  fo  I  was  to  go  and 
find  a  feat  in  other  churches ;  and  having  bad  eyes,  and  being  awkward  about  this,  I  ufed  to  go  and 
read  in  the  fields  on  Sunday.  This  habit  continued  till  my  fourteenth  year,  and  ftill  I  find  a  great 
reluctance  to  go  to  church.  I  then  became  a  fort  of  lax  talker  againft  religion,  for  I  did  not  much 
think  about  it ;  and  this  laded  till  I  went  to  Oxford,  where  it  would  not  befuff'ered.  When  at  Oxford, 
I  took  up  Law's  "  Serious  Call  to  the  Unconverted,"  expecting  to  find  it  a  dull  book  (as  fuch  books 
generally  are),  and  perhaps  to  laugh  at  it.  But  I  found  Law  quite  an  over-match  for  me  ;  and  this 
was  the  firft  occafion  of  my  thinking  in  earneft  of  religion,  after  I  became  capable  of  rational  in 
quiry." 

Serious  impreffions  of  religion,  from  particular  incidents,  it  is  certain  have  been  experienced  by 
many  pious  perfons;  though  it  muft  be  acknowledged,  that  weak  minds,  from  an.  erroneous  fuppofi- 
tion,  that  no  man  is  in  a  ftate  of  grace,  who  has  not  felt  a  particular  converfion,  have,  in  fome 
cafes,  brought  a  degree  of  ridicule  upon  them  ;  a  ridicule  of  which  it  is  inconfiderate  or  unfair  to 
make  a  general  application.  How  ferioufly  Johnfon  was  imprefled  with  a  fenfe  of  religion,  from 
this  time  forward,  appears  from  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life  and  writings.  Religion  was  the  predo 
minant  object  of  his  thoughts ;  though  he  feems  not  to  have  attained  all  the  tranquillity  and  aflur- 
ance  in  his  practice  of  its  duties  that  are  fo  earneftly  to  be  defired.  His  fentiments,  upon  points  of 
abftract  virtue  and  rectitude,  were  in  the  higheft  degree  elevated  and  generous,  but  he  was  un 
fortunate  enough  to  have  the  fublimity  of  his  mind  degraded  by  the  hypochondriacal  propenfities  of 
his  animal  conftitution.  The  ferenity,  the  independence,  and  the  exultation  of  religion,  were  fenti 
ments  to  which  he  was  a  ftranger.  He  faw  the  Almighty  in  a  different  light  from  what  he  is 
reprefented  in  the  purer  page  of  the  gbfpel ;  and  he  trembled  in  the  prefence  of  Infinite  Goodnefs. 
Thofe  tenets  of  the  church  of  England,  which  are  moft  nearly  allied  to  Calvinifm,  were  congenial 
to  his  general  feelings,  and  they  made  an  early  impreffion,  which  habits  confirmed,  and  which  reafon, 
if  ever  exerted,  could  not  efface.  At  the  latter  part  of  his  life  thefe  terrors  had  a  confiderable 
effect ;  nor  was  their  influence  loft,  till  difeafe  had  weakened  his  powers,  and  blunted  his  feelings. 

The  year  following,  1730,  Mr.  Corbet  left  the  univerfity,  and  his  father,  to  whom,  according  to 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  he  trufted  for  fupport,  declined  contributing  any  farther  to  Johnfon's  mainte 
nance,  than  paying  for  his  Commons.  His  father's  bufinefs  was  by  no  means  lucrative.  His  re 
mittances,  confequently,  were  too  (mall  even  to  fupply  the  decencies  of  external  appearance  ;  and  the 
very  fhoes  that  he  wore  were  fo  much  torn,  that  they  could  no  longer  conceal  his  feet.  So  jealous, 
however,  was  he  of  appearing  an  object  of  eleemofynary  contribution,  that  a  new  pair  having  been 
placed  at  his  door,  by  fome  unknown  hand,  he  flung  them  away  with  indignation. 

While  thus  opprefTed  by  want,  he  feems  to  have  yielded  to  that  indifference  to  fame  and  im 
provement,  which  is  the  offspring  of  defpair.  "  He  was  generally  leen,"  fays  Dr.  Percy,  "  loung 
ing  at  the  college  gate,  with  a  circle  of  young  ftudents  round  him,  whom  he  was  entertaining 
with  wit,  and  keeping  from  their  ftudies,  if  not  fpiriting  them  up  to  rebellion  againft  the  cpllege 
difcipline,  which  in  his  maturer  years,  he  fo  much  extolled."  The  account  of  his  conduct  given 
by  Dr.  Adams,  who  was  at  lead  his  nominal  tutor  for  fome  time  before  he  quitted  the  college,  is 
more  favourable  to  his  happinefs,  but  is  lefs  true.  "  Johnfon,"  fays  he,  "  while  he  was  at  Pem 
broke  College,,  was  carefled  and  loved  by  all  about  him ;  he  was  a  gay  and  frolicfome  fellow,  and 
paffed  there  the  happieft  part  of  his  life."  But  his  own  comment  upon  this  opinion,  when  men 
tioned  to  him  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  fiiows  how  fallacious  it  is  to  eftimate  human  happinefs  by  external 
appearances :  "  Ah  Sir,  I  was  mad  and  violent.  It  was  bitternefs  which  they  miftook  for  frolic. 
I  was  miferably  poor,  and  I  thought  to  fight  my  way  by  my  literature  and  my  wit  ;  fo  I  difregarded 
all  power  and  all  authority." 


THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  78.5 

He  ftruggled  for  another  year  in  this  unequal  conflict,  and  profeffed  a  defire  to  practife  either 
the  Civil  or  the  Common  Law  ;  but  his  debts  in  college  increafmg,  and  his  fcanty  remittances  from 
LitchSeld,  which  had  all  akwg  been  made  with  great  difficulty,  being  difcontinued,  his  father 
having  fallen  into  a  ftate  of  infolvency,  he  was  compelled,  by  irrefiftible  neceflity,  to  relinquifh  hi» 
fcheme,  and  left  the  college  in  autumn  1731,  without  a  degree,  having  been  a  member  of  it  little 
more  than  three  years.  This  was  a  circurailance,  which,  in  the  fubfequent  part  of  his  life,  he  had 
occafion  to  regret,  as  the  want  ofit  was  an  obftacle  to  his  obtaining  a  i'ettlernent,  whence  he  might 
have  derived  that  fubfiftence,  of  which  he  wus  certain  by  no  other  means. 

From  the  univerfity  he  returned  to  his  native  city,  deftitute,  and  not  knowing  how  he  fhould 
gain  even  a  decent  livelihood.  But  he  was  fo  far  fortunate,  that  the  refpectabk  character  of  his 
parents,  and  his  own  merit,  fecured  him  a  kind  reception  in  the  beft  families  of  Litchfield.  Mr. 
Gilbert  Walmfley,  Regifter  of  the  Prerogative  Court  at  Litchfield,  "  was  one  of  the  firft  friends 
that  literature  procured"  him  ;  and  he  pafled  much  time  in  the  families  of  Mr.  Howard,  and  Dr. 
Swinfen,  Mr.  Sirnpfon,  Mr.  Levett,  and  Captain  Garrick,  father  of  the  great  ornament  of  the  Bri- 
tifli  ftage.  He  has  drawn  the  character  of  Mr.  Walmfley  in  his  "  Life  of  Smith,"  in  the  glowing 
colours  of  gratitude,  intermingled  with  the  dark  hues  of  political  prejudice.  In  his  abhorrence  of 
wliiggifm,  he  has  imputed  to  his  friend  and  benefactor,  "  all  the  virulence  and  malevolence  of  his 
party."  Yet  Mr.  Walmfley,  whofe  real  character  is  a  noble  one,  loved  Johnfon  enough  to  endure 
in  Urn  the  principles  he  dtfpifed. 

In  the  circles  of  Litchfield,  he  was  frequently  in  the  company  of  ladies,  particularly  at  Mr. 
Walmfley's,  whofe  wife  ind  fifter-in-law,  of  the  name  of  Afton,  and  the 'daughters  of  a  Baronet, 
were  remarkable  for  elegance  and  good  breeding.  Of  Mifs  Molly  Afton,  who  was  afterwards  mar 
ried  to  Captain  Brodie  of  the  Navy,  he  ufed  to  fpeak  with  the  warmeft  admiraUon.  "  Molly," 
(faid  he,)  "  was  a  beauty  and  a  fcholar,  a  wit  and  a  whig,  and  flie  talked  all  in  praife  of  liberty; 
and  fo  I  wade  this  epigram  upon  her.  She  was  the  lovelieft  creature  I  ever  faw  ! 

Liber  ut  efie  velim,  fuafilti,  pulchra  R'laria, 
Ut  maneam  liber  ;  pukhra  Maria,  vale." 

Of  this  epigram,  Mrs.  Piozzi,  and  Mr.  Joddrel,  and  Mr.  Bofwell,  among  others,  hare  offered 
tranflations.     The  following  verfion  is  given  by  Mr.  Bofweli : 

Adieu  Maria  !  fince  you'd  have  me  free  : 
For  who  beholds  thy  charms,  a  fiave  muft  be. 

In  December  1731  hii  father  died,  in  the  ypth  year  of  his  age,  in  very  narrow  circumftances ;  for, 
after  providing  for  his  mother,  that  portion  of  the  effects  which  fell  to  his  fliare  amounted  only  to 
twenty  pounds. 

In  the  forlorn  ftate  of  his  circumftances,  he  accepted  the  employment  of  uflier  in  the  fchool  of 
Market-Bofworth  in  Leicefterfliire,  to  which  he  went  on  foot,  July  16.  1732.  He  refided  in  the 
houfe  of  Sir  Woolfton  Dixie,  the  patron  of  the  fchool,  to  whom  he  officiated  as  a  kind  of  domeftic 
chaplain ;  and  who  treated  htm  with  intolerable  harihnefs.  His  employment  was  irkfome  to  him 
in  tvery  refpect;  and  after  fuffering  for  a  few  months,  what  Mr.  Bofwell  terms  "  complicated 
mifery,"  he  relinquifhed  a  fituation  which  he  ever  afterwards  remembered  with  a  degree  of  horror. 

Being  now  again  totally  unoccupied,  he  was  invited  by  Mr.  HedVor  to  pafs  fome  time  with  him 
at  Birmingham,  as  his  gueft,  at  the  houfe  of  Mr.  Warren,  with  whom  he  lodged.  Mr.  Warren  was 
the  firft  eftablifhed  bookfelier  in  Birmingham,  and  was  very  attentive  to  Johnfon,  and  obtained  the 
affiftance  of  his  pen,  in  furnifliing  fome  periodical  etfrys  in  a  newfpaperof  which  he  was  proprietor. 

In  June  1733,  he  refided  in  the  houfe  of  a  perfon  named  Jarvis,  in  another  part  of  the  town,  where 
he  tranflated  and  abridged,  from  the  French  of  the  Abbe  Le  Grand,  a  Voyage  to  AbyJJlnia,  written  ori 
ginally  by  Jerome  Lolo,  a  Portuguefe  Jefuit.  For  this  work,  which  was  printed  in  Birmingham,  and 
publifhed  by  Bettefworth  and  Hitch  of  Pater-nofter  Row,  London,  Svo,  1735,  but  without  the  tranfla- 
tor's  name,  he  had  from  Mr.  Warren  only  five  guineas.  It  is  the  firft  profe  work  of  Johnfon ;  but  it 
exhibits  no  fpecimen  of  elegance ;  neither  is  it  marked  by  any  character  of  ftyle,  which  would  lead  to  a 
difcovery  of  the  tranflator,  from  an  acquaintance  with  his  latter  productions.  It  has,  howerer,  been 
juftly  remarked  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  that  the  Preface  and  Dedication  contain  ftrong  and  not  unfavour 
able  fpecimens  of  that  ftyle  of  thought  and  manner  of  expreffion,  which  he  afterwards  adopted. 
Vot-XI.  3  JD 


?8d  THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

In  February  1734,  he  returned  to  Litchfield,  and  in  Auguft  following,  publifhed  propofals  for 
printing  by  fubfcription  an  edition  of  the  Latin  poems  of  Politian,  Angeli  Politiani  Poemata  Latina, 
quibus  notas,  cum  hiftoria  Latinte  poefeos,  a  Petrarcbte  a<vo  ad  Politiani  tempora  dedufla  et  vita 
Politiani  fufiUt  quam  ante  bac  enarrata,  addid.it  SAM.  JOHNSON;  the  work  to  be  printed  in 
thirty  Svo  fheets,  price  55.  "  fubfcriptions  taken  in  by  the  editor,  or  N.  Johnfon,  bookfeller  of 
Litchfield,"  his  brother,  who  had  taken  up  his  father's  trade.  For  want  of  encouragement,  the 
work  never  appeared,  and  probably  never  was  executed. 

We  find  him  again  this  year  at  Birmingham  ;  and  in  order  to  procure  fome  little  fubfiftence  by 
his  pen,  he  addrefled  a  letter,  under  the  name  of  S.  Smith,  to  Mr.  Edward  Cave,  the  proprietor  of 
the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  November  25.  1734,  in  which  he  propofed,  "  on  reafonable  terms, 
ibmetimes  to  fupply  him  with  poems,  infcriptions,  &c.  never  printed  before,  and  fhort  literary 
diflertations  in  Latin  or  Englifti,  critical  remarks  on  authors,  ancient  or  modern,  forgotten  poems 
that  deferve  revival,  loofe  pieces,  like  Floyer's,  worth  preferving."  To  this  letter  Mr.  Cave  re 
turned  an  anfwer,  dated  December  2.  1734;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  any  thing  was  done  in 
confequence  of  it. 

He  had,  from  his  infancy,  been  fenfible  to  the  influence  of  female  charms.  When  at  Stourbridge 
fchool  he  was  much  enamoured  of  Olivia  Lloyd,  a  young  Quaker,  to  whom  he  wrote  a  copy  of 
•verfes ;  he  conceived  a  tender  paflion  for  Lucy  Porter,  whofe  mother  he  afterwards  married,  and 
whom  he  had  frequent  epportunities  of  feeing  at  the  houfe  of  Mr.  Hunter  of  Litchfield,  whofe  fe- 
cond  wife  was  her  aunt.  He  addrefled  to  her,  as  fhe  herfelf  informed  Mifs  Seward,  "  when  he  was 
a  lad,"  the  -verfe s  to  a  Lady,  on  her  prefenting  the  author  with  a  fprig  of  myrtle  ;  which  Mr. 
Hector  fays  were  written  at  his  requeft,  in  1731,  for  his  friend  Mr.  Morgan  Graves;  but  the  two 
accounts  are  not  irreconcileable,  for  he  might  give  them  to  Mr.  Hector,  without  thinking  it  ma 
terial  to  mention  their  pre-exiftence. 

His  juvenile  attachments  to  the  fair  fex  were,  however,  very  tranfient,  and  he  never  had  a  criminal 
connection.  In  1735,  he  became  the  fervent  admirer  of  Mrs.  Porter,  widow  of  Mr.  Henry  Porter,  mercer 
in  Birmingham,  to  whofe  family  he  had  probably  been  introduced  by  his  lifter  Mrs.  Hunter  of  Litchfield, 
or  through  his  acquaintance  with  Jarvis,  who  might  be  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Porter,  whofe  maiden  name 
was  Jarvis.  "  It  was,"  he  faid,  "  a  love  match  on  both  fides,''  and  judging  from  the  defcription  of 
their  perfons,  we  muft  fuppofe  that  the  paflion  was  not  infpired  by  the  beauties  of  form,  or  graces 
of  manner,  but  by  a  mutual  admiration  of  each  others  mind.  Johnfon's  appearance  is  defcribed  as 
being  very  forbidding  :  "  He  was  then  lean  and  lank,  fo  that  his  immenie  ftructure  of  bones  was 
hideoufly  (hiking  to  the  eye,  and  the  fears  of  the  fcrophula  were  deeply  vifible.  He  alfo  wore  his 
hair,  which  was  ftraight  and  ftiff,  and  feparated  behind  ;  and  he  often  had  feemingly  convulfive 
ilarts  and  odd  gefticulations,  which  tended  at  once  to  excite  furprile  and  ridicule."  Mrs.  Porter 
Was  double  the  age  of  Johnfon,  and  her  perfon  and  manner,  as  defcribed  by  Garrick,  were  by  no 
means  pleafing  to  others.  "  She  was  very  fat,  with  a  bofom  of  more  than  ordinary  protuberance. 
Her  fwelled  cheeks  were  of  a  florid  red,  produced  by  thick  painting,  and  increafed  by  the  liberal 
»fe  of  cordials,  flaring  and  fantaftic  in  her  drefs,  and  affected  both  in  her  fpeech  and  in  her 
jgeneral  behaviour." 

It  is  to  be  obferved,  however,  that  whatever  her  real  charms  may  have  been,  Johnfon  thought 
ler  beautiful,  for  in  her  Epitaph  he  has  recorded  her  as  fucfe ;  and  in  his  Prayers  and  Meditations, 
we  find  very  remarkable  evidence  that  his  regard  and  fondnefs  for  her  never  ceafed,  even  after  death. 

The  marriage  ceremony  was  performed,  July  pth,  at  Derby,  for  which  place  the  bride  ani 
bridegroom  fet  out  on  horfeback ;  and  it  muft  be  allowed  that  the  capricious  and  fantaftic  beha 
viour  of  the  bride,  during  the  journey  to  church,  upon  the  nuptial  morn,  as  related  by  Mr.  Bofwell, 
was  a  fingular  beginning  of  connubial  felicity. 

She  was  worth  about  8«ol.,  which,  to  a  perfon  in  Johnfon's  circumftances,  made  it  a  defirable 
match.  To  turn  this  fum  to  the  bed  advantage,  he  hired  a  large  houfe  at  Edial,  near  Litchfield, 
and  fet  up  a  private  claffical  academy,  in  which  he  was  encouraged  by  his  friend  Mr.  Walmfley. 
In  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  1736,  there  is  the  following  "  ADVERTISEMENT — At  Edial, 
.near  Litchfield,  in  Staffbrdihire,  young  gentlemen  are  boarded  and  taught  the  Latin  and  Greek 
languages,  by  SAMUEL  JOHNSON."  The  plan,  notwithstanding,  proved  abortive.  The  only  pupUi 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  787 

That  were  put  under  his  care,  were  Garrick,  and  his  brother  George,  and  a  Mr»  OfFely,  a  young 
gentleman  of  a  good  forrune,  who  died  early. 

About  this  time  we  find  him  diligently  employed  on  his  Irene,  a  tragedy,  with  which  Mr. 
Walmfley  was  fo  well  pleated  that  he  advifed  him  to  proceed  with  it.  It  is  founded  upon  a  paSTage 
in  Knolles's  "  Hiitory  of  the  Turks,"  a  book  which  he  afterwards  highly  praifed  and  recommended 
iu  the  Rambler. 

Difappointed  in  his  expectation  of  deriving  fubfiftence  from  the  establishment  of  a  boarding- 
fchool,  he  now  thought  of  trying  his  fortune  in  London,  the  great  field  of  genius  and  exertion, 
where  talents  of  every  kind  have  the  fulleft  fcope,  and  the  higheft  encouragement. 

On  the  zd  of  March  1737,  being  the  a8th  year  of  his  age,  he  fet  out  for  London,  and  it  is  a 
memorable  circumstance,  that  his  pupil  Garrick  went  thither  at  the  fame  time^  with  intention  to 
complete  his  education,  and  follow  the  profeffion  of  the  law.  They  were  recommended  to  Mr. 
Colfon,  mafter  of  the  mathematical  fchool  at  Rochefter,  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  Walmfley,  who 
mentions  the  joint  expedition  of  thefe  two  eminent  men  to  the  metropolis,  in  the  following  manner  : 
"  This  young  gentleman,  and  another  neighbour  of  mine,  one  Mr.  Samuel  Johnfon,  fet  out  this 
»orning  for  London  together.  Davy  Garrick  is  to  be  with  you  early  the  next  week,  and  Mr. 
Johnfon,  to  try  his  fate  with  a  tragedy,  and  to  fee  to  get  himfelf  employed  in  fome  translation, 
cither  from  the  Latin  or  the  French.  Johnfon  is  a  very  good  fcholar  and  poet,  and  I  have  great 
hopes  will  turn  out  a  fine  tragedy  writer." 

How  he  employed  himfelf  upon  his  ftrft  coming  to  London,  is  not  certainly  known.  His  firft 
lodgings  were  at  the  houfe  of  Mr.  Norris  a  ftaymaker  in  Exeter-Street,  in  the  Strand.  Here  he 
found  it  neceffary  to  pra&ife  the  moft  rigid  economy ;  and  his  Qfellus  in  the  Art  of  Living  irt 
London,  is  a  real  character  of  an  IriSh  painter,  who  initiated  him  in  the  art  of  living  cheaply  in 
London. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  in  London,  he  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  Mr*  Henry  Hervey,  one  of 
the  branches  of  the  Briitol  family,  whom  he  had  known  when  he  was  quartered  at  Litchfield  a* 
an  officer  of  the  army.  At  his  houfe  he  was  entertained  with  a  kindnefs  and  hofpitality  of  which 
he  ever  afterwards  retained  a  warm  remembrance.  Not  very  long  before  his  death,  he  defcribed 
this  early  fritnd  "  Harry  Hervey,"  thus ;  "  he  was  a  vicious  man,  but  very  kind  to  me.  If  you 
call  a  dog  Hervey,  I  (hall  love  him." 

He  had  now  written  three  acts  of  his  Irene;  and  he  retired  for  fome  time  to  lodgings  at 
Greenwich,  where  he  proceeded  in  it  fomewhat  farther,  arid  ufed  to  compote  walking  in  the  Park ; 
but  he  did  not  ftay  long  enough  in  that  place  to  finish  it. 

At  this  period,  he  wiflied  to  engage  more  clofely  with  Mr.  Cave,  and  propofed  to  him,  in 
a  letter  dated  Greenwich,  July  12.  1737,  to  undertake  a  translation  of  Father  Paul  Sarpi's  "  Hif- 
tory  of  the  Council  of  Trent,"  from  the  French  edition  of  Dr.  Le  Courayer.  His  propofal  was  ac 
cepted  ;  but  it  mould  feem  from  this  letter,  though  fubfcribed  with  his  own  name,  that  he  had 
not  yet  been  introduced  to  Mr.  Cave. 

In  the  courfe  of  the  fummer,  he  returned  to  Litchfield,  where  he  had  left  his  wife ;  and  there  he 
at  laft  finifhtd  his  tragedy;  which  was  not  executed  with  his  rapidity  of  composition  upon  other  oc- 
cafions,  but  was  flowly  and  painfully  elaborated.  The  original  unformed  Sketch  of  this  tragedy, 
partly  in  the  raw  materials  of  profe,  and  partly  worked  up  in  verfe,  in  his  own  hand-writing,  is, 
preferved  in  the  King's  Library. 

In  three  months  after,  he  removed  to  London  with  his  wife  ;  bpt  her  daughter,  who  had  lived 
with  them  at  Edial,  was  left  with  her  relations  in  the  country.  His  lodgings  were  for  fome  time 
in  ".Voodftock-Street,  near  Hanover-Square,  and  afterwards  in  Caftle  Street,  near  C*vendiSh-Square. 
His  tragedy  being,  as  he  thought,  completely  finished,  and  fit  for  the  Stage,  he  folicited  Mr.  Fleet- 
wood,  the  manager  of  Drury-Lane  Theatre,  to  have  it  acted  at  his  houfe ;  but  Mr.  Flectwood 
would  not  accept  it. 

Upon  his  coming  to  London,  he  was  inlifted  by  Mr.  Cave,  as  a  regular  coadjutor  in  his  magazine, 
which,  for  many  years,  wan  his  principal  refource  for  employment  and  fupport.  A  cor.fiderable 
period  of  his  life  is  loft  in  faying  that  he  was  the  hireling  of  Mr.  Cave.  The  narrative  is  iittie 


g8S  THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

diversified  by  the  enumeration  of  his  contributions.  But  the  publications  of  a  writer,  like  the 
battles  and  fieges  of  a  general,  are  the  circumftances  which  muft  fix  the  feveral  eras  of  his  life. 
In  this  part  of  the  narrative,  the  pieces  acknowledged  by  Johnfon  to  be  of  his  writing,  are  printed 
in  Italics,  and  thofe  which  are  afcribed  to  him  upon  good  authority,  or  internal  evidence,  are  di- 
flinguifhed  by  inverted  commas. 

His  firft  performance  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  was  a  Latin  Ode,  Ad  Urbanum,  in  March 
1738,  a  tranflation  of  which,  by  an  unknown  correfpondent,  appeared  in  the  Magazine  for  May 
following. 

At  this  period,  the  misfortunes  and  mifconduft  of  Savage  had  reduced  him  to  the  loweft  (late  of 
•wretchednefs  as  a  writer  for  bread  j  and  his  vifits  at  St.  John's  Gate,  where  the  "  Gentleman's 
Magazine"  was  originally  printed,  naturally  brought  Johnfon  and  him  together.  Johnfon  com 
menced  an  intimacy  with  this  extraordinary  man.  Both  had  great  parts,  and  they  were  equally 
under  the  preffure  of  want.  They  had  a  fellow-feeling,  and  fympathy  united  them  clofer. 

It  is  melancholy  to  reflect,  that  Johnfon  and  Savage  were  fometimes  in  fuch  extreme  indigence, 
that  they  could  not  pay  for  a  lodging,  fo  that  they  have  wandered  together  whole  nights  in  the  llreets. 
Yet  as  Savage  had  feen  life  in  all  its  varieties,  and  been  much  in  the  company  of  the  ftatefmen  and 
wits  of  his  time,  we  may  fuppofe,  in  thefe  fcenes  of  diftrefs,  that  he  communicated  to  Johnfon  an 
abundant  fupply  of  fuch  materials  as  his  philofophical  curiofity  moft  eagerly  defired,  and  men 
tioned  many  of  the  anecdotes  with  which  he  afterwards  enriched  the  life  of  his  unhappy  companion. 

He  mentioned  to  Sir  Jofhua  Reynolds,  that  one  night  in  particular,  when  Savage  and  he  walked 
round  St.  James's  Square,  for  want  of  a  lodging,  they  were  not, at  all  deprefled  by  their  fituation, 
but  in  high  fpirits,  and  brimful  of  patriotifm,  traverfed  the  Square  for  feveral  hours,  inveighed  a- 
gainft  the  minifter,  and  "  refolved  they  would  /land  by  their  country." 

Sir  John  Hawkins  fuppofes  that  "  Johnfon  was  captivated  by  the  addrefs  and  demeanour  of  Sa 
vage,  who,  as  to  his  exterior,  was  to  a  remarkable  degree  accomplifhed  ;  he  was  a  handfome  well- 
made  man,  and  very  courteous  in  the  modes  of  falutation."  He  took  off  his  hat,  he  tells  us,  with  a 
good  air,  made  a  graceful  bow,  and  was  a  good  fwordiman.  ."  Thefe  accomplifhments,"  he  adds, 
"  and  the  eafe  and  pleafantry  of  his  converfation,  were  probably  the  charms  that  wrought  on 
Johnfon,  who"  at  this  time  had  not  been  acuflomed  to  the  converfation  of  gentlemen."  But  if,  ac 
cording  to  his  biographer's  notion,  he  "  never  law  the  charms  of  his  wife,"  how  ihould  he  perceive 
the  graces  of  Savage  ? 

Johnfon,  indeed,  defcribes  him  as  having  "  a  graceful  and  manly  deportment,  a  folemn  dignity 
of  mien,  but  which,  upon  a  nearer  acquaintance,  foftened  into  an  engaging  eafinefs  of  manners." 
How  highly  he  admired  him  for  that  knowledge,  which  he  himfelf  fo  much  cultivated,  and  what 
kindnefs  he  entertained  for  him,  appears  in  the  following  veries  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for 
April  1738. 

Ad  RICARDUM  SAVAGE  Arm.  human!  generis  amatorem  ; 
Humani  fiut'ium"  generis  cui  peel  ore  fervet, 
O  !  colat  humanum  te  foveatque  genus  ! 

About  this  time  be  became  acquainted  with  Mifs  Elizabeth  Carter,  the  learned  tranflator  of 
"  Epidletus,"  to  whom  he  paid  a  friendly  attention,  and  in  the  fame  Magazine  complimented  her 
in  An  JEnigma  to  Eliza,  both  in  Greek  and  Latin.  He  writes  Mr.  Cave,  "  I  think  fhe  ought  to  be 
celebrated  in  as  many  different  languages  as  Lewis  le  Grand."  His  verfes  to  a  Lady,  (Mifs  Mollj 
Afton)  ivhofpoke  in  defence  of  liberty,  firft  appeared  in  the  fame  Magazine. 

In  May  1738,  he  publifhed  his  London,  a  Pcetn,  written  in  imitation  of  the  3d  fatire  of  Juvenal. 
It  has  been  generally  faid,  that  he  offered  it  to  feveral  bookfellers,  none  of  whom  would  purchafc 
it.  Mr.  Cave,  at  laft,  communicated  it  to  Dodfley,  who  had  tafte  enough  to  perceive  its  uncommou 
merit,  and  thought  it  "  creditable  to  be  concerned  with  it.''  Dodfley  gave  him  lol.  for  the  copy. 
It  is  remarkable,  that  it  came  out  on  the  fame  morning  with  Pope's  fatire,  intitled,  "  1738," 
One  of  its  warmeft  patrons  was  General  Oglethorpe.  Pope  alfo  was  fo  ftruck  with  its  merit,  that 
he  fought  to  difcover  the  author,  and  prophefied  his  future  fame.  "  He  will,"  faid  he  "  foon  be 
ttttrrf,"  and  it  appears  from  bij  note  to  Lord  Cower,  he  hioafelf  was  fuccefsful  in  his  inquiries. 


THE   LIFE    OF  JOHNSON'.  ?Sf 

To  "  a  fiiort  extract  from  London*  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  May,  is  added,  "  Become 
remarkable  for  having  got  to  the  fecond  edition  in  the  fpace  of  a  week."  This  admirable  poem 
laid  the  firft  foundation  of  his  fame.  Sir  John.  Hawkins  obferves,  that  in  this  poem  he  has  adpoted 
the  vulgar  topic  of  the  time,  to  gratify  the  malevolence  cf  the  Tory  faction;  and  Mr.  Bofwell  can- 
didly  allows,  that  "  the  flame  of  patriotifm  and  zeal  for  popular  refiftance  with  which  it  is  fraught, 
had  no  juft  caufe."  It  contains  the  moft  fpirited  invectives  againft  tyranny  and  oppreffion,  the 
warmeft  predilection  for  his  own  courttry,  and  the  pureft  love  of  virtue,  interfperfed  with  traits 
of  his  own  particular  character  and  fituation.  He  heated  kis  mind  with  the  ardour  of  Juvenal, 
and  he  wrote  with  the  fpirit  and  energy  of  a  fine  poet,  and  a  fliarp  critic  of  the  times.  Boileau 
had  imitated  the  fame  fatire  with  great  fuccefs,  applying  it  to  Paris  j  but  an  attentive  companion 
will  fatisfy  every  reader  that  he  is  much  excelled  by  Johnfon,  Oldham  had  alfo  imitated  it,  and 
applied  it  to  London ;  but  there  is  fcarcely  any  coincidence  between  the  two  performances,  though 
upon  the  very  fame  fubject. 

In  the  courfe  of  his  engagement  with  Mr.  Cave,  he  compofed  the  Delates  in  the  Senate  of  Magna 
Lilliputia,  the  firft  number  of  which  appeared  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  June  1738, 
iometimes  with  feigned  names  of  the  feveral  fpeeches,  fometimes  with  denominations  formed  of 
the  letters  of  their  real  names,  fo  that  they  might  be  eaiily  decyphered.  Parliament  then  kept  the 
prefs  in  a  kind  of  myfterious  awe,  which  made  it  neceflary  to  have  recourfe  to  fuch  devices.  The  • 
debates  for  fome  time  were  brought  home  and  digef'ted  by  Guthrie,  and  afterwards  fent  by  Mr. 
Cave  to  Johnfen  for  his  revifion.  When  Guthrie  had  attained  to  a  greater  variety  of  employment, 
and  the  fpeeches  were  more  and  more  enriched  by  the  acceffion  of  Johnfon's  genius,  it  was  refolved 
that  he  fliould  do  the  whole  himfelf,  from  notes  furniflied  by  perfons  employed  to  attend  in  both 
houfes  of  Parliament.  His  fole  composition  of  them  began  November  19.  1740,  and  ended  Fe 
bruary  23.  1743-3.  From  that  time  they  were  written  by  Hawkefwarth  to  the  year  1760.  John 
fon  acknowledged  the  debates  to  be  fpurious,  long  after  the  world  had  confidered  them  as  genuine  ; 
and  fome  days  previous  to  his  death,  declared,  that  of  all  his  writings  they  gave  him  the  moft  un- 
eafiuefs.  The  deceit,  however,  could  not  be  very  pernicious,  in  the  effects  of  which  fo  many  per 
fons  were  involved.  Neither  are  they  fo  completely  his  own  compofition  as  is  generally  fuppofed. 
That  notes  of  the  fpeeches  were  taken  in  the  Houfes  of  Parliament,  and  given  to  him,  is  evident 
from  his  own  declarations.  And  it  does  not  appear  probable  that  Mr.  Cave,  who  was  ever  attentive 
to  the  improvement  of  his  Magazine,  Ihould  be  more  negligent  in  procuring  notes  as  accurate  as  he 
could,  during  the  time  when  Johnfon  executed  this  department,  than  when  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
Guthrie.  It  feeras  at  leaft  moft  likely,  therefore,  that  the  language  and  illuftrations  are  Johnfon's 
own,  but  that  the  arguments  and  general  arrangements  were  taken  from  the  feveral  fpeeches 
fpoken  in  either  houfe. 

The  trade  of  writing  was,  however,  fo  little  profitable,  that  notwithstanding  the  fuccefs  of  his 
London,  he  wiflied  to  accept  an  offer  made  to  him,  of  becoming  mafter  of  the  free  fchool  at  Ap- 
pleby  in  Leicefterfhire  (Pope  fays  in  Shropfhire),  the  fahry  of  which  was  fixty  pounds  a-year.  But 
the  Itatutes  of  the  fchool  required  that  he  fliould  be  a  Mafter  of  Arts,  and  it  was  then  thought  too 
great  a  favour  to  be  aikecl  of  the  Univerfity  of  Oxford.  Pope,  without  any  knowledge  of  him,  but 
from  his  London,  recorrnn"nded  htm  to  Lord  Gower,  who,  by  a  letter  which  has  been  often  printed, 
to  a,  friend  of  Swift,  dated  Trentham,  Auguft  I.  1738,  endeavoured  to  procure  him  a  degree  from 
Trinity-College,  Dublin.  This  expedient  failed.  There  is  reafon  to  think  that  Swift  declined  to 
meddle  in  the  bufmefs ;  and  to  this  circumftance  Johnfon's  known  diflike  of  Swift  has  been  often 
imputed. 

„  He  made  one  other  effort  to  emancipate  himfelf  from  the  drudgery  of  authorfhip,  by  endeavour 
ing  to  br  introduced  to  the  bar  at  Doctor's  Commons ;  but  here  the  want  of  a  Doctor's  degree  in 
Civil  Law,  was  alfo  an  unfurmountable  impediment. 

He  was,  therefore,  under  the  neceffity  of  perfevering  in  that  courfe  into  which  he  was  forced; 
and  we  find  him  profecnting  his  defign  of  tranflating  Father  Paul's  "  Hiftory  of  the  Council  of 
Trent,'*  in  a  vols.  410,  which  was  announced  in  the  "  Weekly  Mifcellany,"  October  zi.  1738. 
Twelve  flxeets  of  this  tranflation  were  printed  oSFj  but  the  defign  was  dropped,  for  it  happened,  that 

3  P  "j 


?9<»  THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

another  Samuel  Johnfon,  Librarian  of  St.  Martin's  in  the  Fields,  and  Curate  of  that  parifli,  had 
engaged  in  the  fame  undertaking,  under  the  patronage  of  Dr.  Pearce ;  the  confequence  of  which 
was,  an  opppfition,  which  mutually  deflroyed  each  others  hojpes  of  fuccefs. 

In  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  of  this  year,  befides  the  pieces  already  mentioned,  he  gave  a 
Life  rf  Father  Paul  in  the  November  Magazine,  and  wrote  the  "  Preface''  to  the  volume.  The  "  Apo- 
theofis  of  Milton,  a  Vifion,"  printed  in  the  Magazine  for  1738  and  1739,  siven  to  him  by  Sir  John 
Hawkins,  was  the  production  of  Guthrie.  The  Tranflation  of  Cronfaz's  "  Examination  of  Pope'i 
Efiay  on  Man,"  and  printed  by  Cave  in  November  1738,  has  been  afcribed  to  him;  but  Mifs Carter 
has  lately  acknowledged  that  fhe  was  the  tranflator. 

In  1739,  befide  the  affiilance  he  gave  to  the  Debates  in  the  Senate  of  Lill'rput,  his  writings  in  the 
"  Gentleman's  Magazine"  were,  The  Life  of  Bocrhaavc,  An  Appeal  to  the  Public  in  behalf  of  the  Editor, 
Virfes  to  Eliza,  a  Creek  Epigram  to  Dr.  Birch,  and  "  Confiderations  on  the  cafe  of  Dr.  Trapp's  Ser 
mons,"  reprinted  in  the  Magazine  for  July  1787. 

The  fame  year  he  joined  in  the  clamour  againft  Walpole,  and  publifhed  his  famous  Jacobite  pamphlet, 
entitled,  Mormor  Norfolcienfe,  or  an  F.Jfay  on  an  Ancient  Prophetical  infcriftion  in  Monkijb  rhyme, lately  Jif- 
covered  near  Lynns,  in  Norfolk,  by  P,  obus  Britannicus.  In  this  performance,  he  inveighs  againft  the  Brunf- 
wick  fucceffion,  and  the  meafures  of  Government  confequent  upon  it,  with  warm  anci-Hanoveriaa 
zeal.  The  Jacobite  principles  inculcated  by  it,  according  to  Sir  John  Hawkins,  arouied  the  vigilance 
of  the  Mimltry.  A  warrant  was  iffued,  and  meflengers  were  employed  to  apprehend  the  author,  who, 
it  feems,  was  known.  To  elude  his  purfuers,  he  retired  with  his  wife  to  Lambeth-marfh,  and  there 
lay  concealed  in  an  oTifcure  lodging  till  the  fcent  grew  cold.  Mr.  Bofwell  however  denies  that 
there  is  any  foundation  for  this  ftory  ;  for  that  Mr.  Steele,  one  of  the  late  fecretaries  of  the  Trea- 
fury,  had  directed  every  poflible  fearch  to  be  made  in  the  records  of  the  Treafury  and  Secretary  of 
State's  Office1,  but  could  find  no  trice  of  any  warrant  having  been  iffued  to  apprehend  the  author 
of  this  pamphlet."  His  Marmor  Norfolcienfe  obtained  alfo  the  honour  of  Pope's  commendation,  as 
appears  from  the  following  note  concerning  Johnfon,  copied  with  minute  exa&nefs,  by  Mr.  Bofwell, 
from  the  original  in  the  pofleflion  of  Dr.  Percy. 

"  This  \Londoti]  is  imitated  by  one  Johnfon,  who  put  in  for  a  public  fchool  in  Shropfhire,  but  was 
difappointed.  He  has  an  infirmity  of  the  convulfive  kind,  that  attacks  him  fometimes,  fo  as  to 
make  him  a  fad  fpeftacle.  Mr.  P.  from  the  merit  of  this  work,  which  was  all  the  knowledge  he 
had  of  him,  endeavoured  to  ferve  him  without  his  own  application ;  and  wrote  to  my  Lord  Gower, 
but  he  did  not  fucceed  ;  Mr.  Johnfon  publifhed  afterwards  another  poem  in  Latin,  with  notes,  the 
whole  very  humorous,  called  the  Norfolk  Prophecy." 

In  the  feme  year  1739,  he  published  A  complete  Vindication  of  the  Licenfers  if  tbs  Stage,  from  'the  ma 
licious  and fcandalous  afperftons  of  Mr.  Brooke,  author  of  Gujlavas  Vafa,  in  4/0.  This  was  an  ironical, 
but  a  very  proper  attack  upon  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  for  the  injuftifiable  fupprefiion  of  that  tragedy. 
Indeed  the  power  vefted  in  that  officer,  refpedling  dramatic  pieces,  is  a  difgrace  to  a  free  country, 
and  the  a<Jt  which  gave  him  that  power  ought  to  be  repealed.  To  jufHfy  the  rejection  of  this  play, 
Sir  John  Hawkins  felefts  a  few  paflages,  not  one  of  which  would  give  umbrage  at  this  day. 

In  July  1739,  a  fubfcription  was  completed  for  Savage,  who  was  to  retire  to  Swanfea,  and  he 
parted  with  the  companion  of  his  midnight  rambles,  never  to  fee  him  more.  This  feparation  was 
perhaps  a  real  advantage  to  Johnfon.  By  afibciating  with  Savage,  who  was  habituated  to  the  licen- 
tioufnefs  and  diffipation  of  the  town,  Johnfon,  though  his  good  principles  remained  Heady,  did  not 
entirely  preferve  that  temperance  for  which  he  was  remarkable,  in  days  of  greater  fimplicity,  but 
was  imperceptibly  led  into  feme  indulgences,  which  occafioned  much  diflrefs  to  his  virtuous  mind. 
It  is  faid  by  Sir  John  Hawkins,  that  during  his  connection  with  Savage,  a  ihort  feparation  took  place 
between  Johnfon  and  his  wife.  They  were,  however,  foon  brought  together  again.  Johnfon  Iove4 
her,  and  (bowed  his  affection  in  various  modes  of  gallantry,  which  Garrick  ufed  to  mimic.  The 
affectation  of  fafhipnable  airs  did  not  fit  eafy  on  Johnfon ;  his  gallantry  was  received  by  the  wife 
with  the  flutter  of  a  coquete,  and  both,  we  may  believe,  exppfed  themfelves  to  ridicule. 

In  1740,  he  contributed  to  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  the  «  Preface,"  Life  of  Admiral  Blake^ 
ard  the  firft  parts  of  thofe  of  Sir  Francis  Drake,  and  of  Philip  Baretiicr,  both  which  he  finifhed  the 
year  after ;  An  "  Effay  on  Epitaphs,4'  and  an  Efitaph  on  Philips,  a  mufician,  which  was  afterwards 
publilhed,  with  forne  other  pieces  of  his  Mifs  Wilh'ams's  "  Mifcellanies." 

5 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  79! 

In  1741,  he  wrote  for  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  the  "  Preface,"  conclufion  of  his  Lives  «f 
S)rale  and  Barctticr ;  "  A  free  tranflation  of  the  jefts  of  Hierocles,  with  an  Introduction,"  "  Debate 
«n  the  Propofal  of  Parliament  to  Cromwell,  to  affume  the  title  of  King,  abridged,  methodized,  and 
digefled;"  "  tranflation  of  Abbe  Guyon's  Differtation  on  the  Amazons;"  "  tranflation  of  Fontenelle's 
Panegyric  on  Dr.  Morin."  He,  this  year,  and  tbe  two  following,  wrote  the  Parliamentary  Deifies. 
The  eloquence,  the  force  of  argument,  and  the  fplendour  of  language  difplayed  in  the  feveral  fpeeches, 
are  well  known,  and  univerfally  admired.  To  one  who  praifed  his  impartiality,  obferving  that  he 
had  dealt  out  reafon  and  eloquence  with  an  equal  hand  to  both  parties,  "  That  is  not  quite  true,  Sir, 
faid  Johnfon,  I  faved  appearances  well  enough,  but  I  took  care  that  the  WHIG  DOGS  fhould  not  have 
the  beft  of  it."  They  have  been  collected  in  a  vols.  8vo,  1787,  and  recommended  to  the  notice  of 
parliamentary  fpeakers  as  orations  upon  queftions  of  public  importance,  by  a  "  Preface,"  written  by 
George  Chalmers,  Efq.  whofe  commercial  and  biographical  writings  are  well  known,  and  efteemed. 

In  1742,  he  wrote  for  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,''  the  "  Preface;"  the  Parliamentary  Debates ; 
Effay  on  tbe  Account  of  tie  Conduft  of  tbe  Ducbtfs  of  Marlborougb,  then  the  popular  topic  of  converfation  ; 
The  Life  of  Peter  Burman ;  Additions  to  lit  Life  of  Barettier  ;  The  Life  of  Sydenbam,  afterwards  prefix 
ed  to  Swan's  edition  of  his  works;  the  "  Foreign  Hiftory,"  for  December;  "  Effay  on  the  Defcrip- 
tion  of  China,  from  the  French  of  Du  Halde  ;"  Profofalsfor  printing  Bibliotbeca  Harlecana,  or  a  Ca 
talogue  of  tbe  Library  of  tbe  Earl  of  Oxford.  It  was  afterwards  prefixed  to  the  firft  volume  of  the 
"  Catalogue,"  in  which  the  Latin  account  of  books  were  written  by  him.  He  was  employed  in 
this  bufinefs  by  Mr.  Thomas  Ofborne,  bookfeller  in  Gray's  Inn,  who  purchafed  the  library  for 
13, Cool,  a  fum  which,  Mr.  Oldys  fays  in  one  of  his  manufcripts,  was  not  more  than  the  binding  of 
the  books  had  coft ;  yet  the  flownefs  of  the  fale  was  fuch,  that  there  was  not  much  gained  by  it.  It 
has  been  confidently  related,  with  many  embellifhments,  that  Johnfon  knocked  Ofborne  down  in  his 
ihop  with  a  folio,  and  put  his  foot  upon  his  neck.  Johnfon  himfelf  relates  it  differently  to  Mr.  Bof- 
welL  "  Sir,  he  was  impertinent  to  me,  and  I  beat  him  ;  but  it  was  not  in  his  ihop,  it  was  in  my 
own  chamber.  This  anecdote  has  been  often  told  to  prove  Johnfon's  ferocity  i  but  merit  cannot 
always  take  the  fpurns  of  the  unworthy  with  patience  and  a  forbearing  fpirit. 

He  wrote  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  1743,  the  "  Preface  ;"  the  Parliamentary  Debates 
for  January  and  February ;  "  Confiderations  on  the  Difpute  between  Cronfaz  and  Warburton,  on 
Pope's  Effay  on  Man,"  in  which  he  defends  Cronfaz  ;  Ad  Lauram  farituram  Epigramma ;  A  Latin 
tranflation  of  Pope's  vcrfis  «n  Us  Grotto ;  an  exquifitely  beautiful  Ode  on  frienJJtif ;  and  an  "  Advertife- 
ment"  for  Ofborne,  concerning  the  Harleian  Catalegue. 

The  fame  year  he  wrote  for  his  fchool-fellow,  Dr.  James's  "  Medicinal  Dictionary,"  in  3  vols.  folio, 
the  Dedication  to  Dr.  Mead,  which  is  conceived  with  great  addrefs,  to  conciliate  the  patronage  of  that 
very  eminent  man.  He  had  alfo  written  or  affifted  in  writing  the  propofals  for  this  work,  and  be 
ing  very  fond  of  the  ftudy  of  phyfic,  in  which  Dr.  James  was  his  matter,  he  furniflied  fome  of  the  ar 
ticles. 

At  this  tkne,  his  circumftances  were  much  embarraffed,  yet  fuch  was  his  liberal  affection  for  his 
mother,  that  he  took  upon  himfelf  a  debt  of  hers,  to  Mr.  Levett  of  Litchfield,  which,  though  only 
twelve  pounds,  was  then  confiderable  to  him. 

In  1744,  he  wrote  the  "  Preface"  for  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  and  the  Preface  to  tie  Harleian 
Mifcellany.  The  felection  of  the  pamphlets  of  which  it  was  compofed  was  made  by  Mr.  Oldys,  a 
man  of  eager  curkmty,  and  indefatigable  diligence,  to  whom  Englifh  literature  owes  many  obliga 
tions. 

The  fame  year  he  produced  one  work  fully  fufficient  to  maintain  the  high  reputation  which  he 
had  acquired.  This  was  the  Life  of  Savage,*  which  he  had  announced  his  intention  of  writing  in 
the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  for  Auguft  1743.  It  is  faid  by  Sir  John  Hawkins  that  he  com 
pofed  the  whole  of  it  in  thirty -fix  hours;  but  Mr.  Bofwell  ftates,  upon  Johnfon's  own  authority, 
that  he  compofed  forty-eight  of  the  prefent  octavo  pages  at  a  fitting,  but  that  he  fat  up  all  night. 
It  came  out  in  February,  from  the  (hop  of  Roberts,  who,  in  April  following,  republifhed  his  Life  of 
Barettier,  in  a  feparate  pamphlet.  It  was  no  fooner  publilhed  than  the  following  liberal  pnifc 
was  given  to  it  by  Fielding,  in  "  The  Champion,"  which  was  copied  into  the  ««  Gentleman's  Ma* 
«a2ine"  for  April,  and  confirmed  by  the  approbation  of  the  public. 

3  D  iiij 


J<>a  THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON1. 

"  This  pamphlet  is  without  flattery  to  its  author,  as  juft  and  well-written  a  piece  as  of  its  kind  I 
ever  faw.  It  is  certainly  penned  with  equal  accuracy  and  f'pirit,  of  which  I  am  fo  much  the  better 
judge,  as  I  knew  many  of  the  fa<fls  to  be  ftrictly  true,  and  very  fairly  related.  It  is  a  very  amufing, 
and  withal  a  very  inftructive  and  valuable  performance.  1  he  author's  observations  are  mort,  figni- 
ficant,  and  juft,  as  his  narrative  is  remaikably  fmooth,  and  well  dilpofed.  His  reflections  open  to 
all  the  receffes  of  the  human  heart;  and,  in  a  word,  a  tr.cre  jnft  orpleafant,  a  more  engaging,  or 
a  more  inftructive  treatife  on  all  the  excellencies  and  defects  of  human  nature,  is  fcarce  to  be  found 
in  our  own,  or  perhaps  any  other  language." 

Johnfon  had  now  lived  nearly  half  his'days,  without  friends  or  lucrative  profeftion  ;  he  rnd  toiled 
and  laboured,  yet  dill,  as  he  himfelf  exprefies  it,  was  "  to  provide  for  the  day,  that  was  pafung  over 
him."  Of  the  profeffion  of  an  unfriended  author  he  faw  the  danger  and  the  difficulties.  Amhurft, 
who  had  conducted  "  The  Craftfman,"  Savage,  Boyfe,  and  others  who  had  laboured  in  literature, 
without  emerging  from  diftrefs,  were  recent  example?,  and  clouded  his  profpect. 

Sir  John  Hawkins  has  preferved  a  lift  of  literary  projects,  not  lefs  than  thirty-nine  articles,  which 
lie  had  formed  in  the  conrfe  of  his  ftudies ;  but  fuch  was  his  want  of  encouragement  or  the  verfatility 
of  his  temper,  that  not  one  of  all  his  fchemes  was  ever  executed. 

A  new  edition  of  Shakfpeare  now  occurred  to  him,  and  as  a  prelude  to  it,  in  April  1745,  he 
publithed  a  pamphlet,  intituled  Mifcellaneous  cbfervationi  on  the  Tragedy  of  Macbeth,  with  Remarks 
on  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  edition  of  Sbakfpcare.  7o  which  is  njjixed,  propofalsfor  a  new  edition  of 
Shakfpeare,  with  a  Specimen,  Svo.  The  notice  of  the  public  was,  however,  not  excited  to  his 
anonymous  propofals  for  the  execution  of  a  talk  which  Warburten  was  known  to  have  undertaken  ; 
the  project,  therefore,  died  at  that  time,  to  revive  at  a  future  period.  His  pamphlet,  however,  was 
highly  eiteemed,  and  even  the  fupercilious  Warburton,  in.  the  "  Preface"  to  his  Shakfpeare,  publifhed, 
two  years  afterwards,  had  the  candour  to  exempt  it  from  his  general  cenfure  "  of  thofe  things  which 
have  been  publiflied  under  the  titles  of  "  Effays,"  "  Remarks,"  "  Obiervations,'*  &c.  on  "  Shak 
fpeare,"  and  fpoke  of  it  as  the  work  of  "  a  man  of  great  parts  and  genius."  This  obligation  Johnfon 
always  acknowledged  in  terms  of  gratitude.  "  He  praiftd  me  (faid  he)  at  a  time  when  praife  was 
of  value  to  me." 

In  the  year  1746,  which  was  marked  by  a  civil  war  in  Britain,  when  a  rafh  attempt  was  made 
to  reftore  the  houfe  of  Stuart  to  the  throne,  his  literary  career  appears  to  hare  been  almoft  totally 
fufpended.  His  attachment  to  that  unfortunate  family  is  well  known ;  foma  may  imagine  that  a 
fympathetic  anxiety  impeded  the  exertion  of  his  intellectual  powers  ;  but  it  is  probable  that  he  was, 
during  that  time,  employed  upon  his  Shakfpeare,  or  fketching  the  out-lines  of  his  DiSiionary  of  the 
EngUJb  Language. 

Having  formed  and  digefted  the  plan  of  his  great  philological  work,  which  might  then  be  efteem- 
ed  one  of  the  defiderata  of  Enghfn  literature,  he  communicated  it  to  the  public,  in  1747,  'n  a 
pamphlet,  intituled,  The  Plan  of  a  Dittioiiary  of  the  Engli/b  Language,  addrc/fcd  to  the  Right  Ho 
nourable  Philip  Dormer,  Earl  of  Chefterficld,  one  tf  hit  Majefty's  Secretaries  cf  State.  The  hint 
of  undertaking  this  work  is  faid  to  have  been  firft  fuggefted  to  Johnfon  by  Dodfley,  who  contracted 
•with  him  for  the  execution  of  it  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Charles  Hitch,  Mr.  Andrew  Millar,  the 
two  Meflrs.  Longman,  and  the  two  Meffrs.  Knapton.  The  price  ftipulated  was  1575  1. 

The  Plan  has  not  only  the  fubftantial  merit  of  comprehenfion,  perfpicuity,  and  precifion,  but  the 
language  of  it  is  unexceptionably  excellent ;  and  never  was  there  a  more  dignified  (train  of  compli 
ment  than  that  in  which  he  courts  the  attention  of  Chefterfield,  who  was  very  ambitious  of  literary 
distinction,  and  who,  upon  being  informed  of  the  defign,  had  expreffed  himfelf  in  terms  very  favour 
able  to  its  fuccefs.  The  way  in  which  it  came  to  be  infcribed  to  Chefterfield  was  this :  "  I  had 
neglected,'*  fays  he,  "  to  write  it  by  the  time  appointed.  Uodfley  fuggeftcd  a  defire  to  have  it  ad- 
drefied  to  Lord  Chefterfield.  I  laid  hold  of  this  as  a  pretext  for  delay,  that  it  might  be  better  done, 
and  let  Dodfley  have  his  defire."  The  Plan  itfelf,  however,  proves,  that  the  Earl  not  only  favour- 
pd  the  defign,  but  that  there  had  been  a  particular  communication  with  his  Lordfhip  concerning  it. 

To  enable  him  to  complete  this  vaft  undertaking,  he  hired  a  houfe  in  Gough-Square,  Fleet-Street, 
fitted  up  one  of  the  upper  rooms  after  the  manner  of  a  counting  houfe,  and  employed  fix  amauuenfes 


THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  75,3 

there  in  tranfcribing;  five  of  whom  were  natives  of  North  Britain,  Mr.  Macbean  author  of  "  A. 
Syftem  of  Ancient  Geography,"  Sec.  Mr.  Shiels,  the  principal  collecflor  and  cligefter  of  the  mate 
rials  for  the  "  Lives  of  the  Poets  1753,"  to  which  the  name  of  Mr.  Theo.  Gibber  is  prefixed;  Mr. 
Stewart,  fon  of  Mr.  George  Stewart,  bookfeller  in  Edinburgh,  and  a  Mr.  Maitland;  the  fixth  was 
Mr.  Peyton,  a  French  mafter,  who  publifhed  fame  elementary  tracts'.  The  words,  partly  taken 
from  other  dictionaries,  and  partly  fupplied  by  himfelf,  having  been  firft  written  down,  with  fpaces 
left  between  them,  he  delivered  in  writing  their  etymologies,  definitions,  and  various  fignifications. 
The  authorities  were  copied  from  the  books  themfelves,  in  which  he  had  marked  the  paflages  witk 
a  black  lead  pencil,  the  traces  of  which  could  eaGly  be  effaced. 

This  year  he  contributed  to  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  for  May,  five   ftiort  poetical  pieces. 

"  A  tranflation  of  a  Latin  Epitaph  on  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,"  "  To  Mifs ,  on   her  giving  the 

author  a  gold  and  filk  net-work  purfe  of  her  own  weaving,"  "  Stella  in  Mourning,"  "  The  Winter's 
Walk,"  "  An  Ode,"  and  "  To  Lyce,  an  elderly  Lady,"  diftinguiflied  by  three  afterifks.  In  the  Ma 
gazine  for  December,  he  inferted  an  Ode  on  Winter,  which  is  one  of  the  beft  of  his  lyric  compofitions. 
In  September,  this  year,  his  fortunate  pupil,  Garrick,  having  become  joint-patentee  and  manager 
of  Drury.]ane  theatre,  he  furniilied  him  with  a  Prologue  at  the  opening  of  it,  which,  for  juft  and 
manly  criticifm,  as  well  as  for  poetical  excellence,  is  unrivalled  in  that  fpecies  of  competition. 

la  1748,  while  he  was  employed  in  his  Diffionary,he  exerted  his  talents  in  occafional  composition, 
very  different  from  lexicography,  and  formed  a  club  that  met  at  Horiornnn's  chop-houfe  in  Ivy-lane, 
Pater-nofter  Row,  every  Tuefday  evening,  with  a  view  to  enjoy  literary  difcuffion,  and  the  pleafure 
of  animated  relaxation.  The  members  affbciated  with  him  in  this  little  fociety,  were  his  beloved 
friend,  Dr.  Richard  Bathurft,  a  phyfician,  Dr.  Hawkefworth,  Dr.  Suiter,  father  of  the  late  mafter 
of  the  charter-houfe,  Mr.  Ryland,  a  merchant,  Mr.  John  Payne,  then  a  bookfeller  in  Pater-noftcr 
Row,  Mr.  Samuel  Dyer,  a  learned  young  man,  intended  for  the  difienting  miniftry,  Dr.  William 
M'Ghie,  a  Scotch  phyfician,  Dr.  Edmund  Barker,  a  young  phyfician,  and  Sir  John  Hawkins.  The 
endowments  of  Mr.  Dyer  are  reprefented  by  Sir  John  Hawkins  as  of  fuch  a  fuperior  kind,  «'  that  in 
fume  inftances  Johnfon  might  almoft  be  faid  to  have  looked  up  to  him."  They  ufed  to  difpute  in 
this  club,  about  the  moral  fenfe  and  thejitncfr  of  things,  but  Johnfon  was  not  uniform  in  his  opi 
nions;  contending  as  often  for  victory  as  truth.  This  infirmity  attended  him  through  life.  •- 

In  this  year  he  publiihed,  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  May,  The  Life  of  Rofconuuon,  which 
has  fincc  been  inferted  in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Poets."  He  wrote  alfo  the  Preface  to  Dodfley's  "  Pre 
ceptor,"  and  the  Vlfion  of  Theodore,  the  Hermit  of  Tener'iffe,  found  in  bis  cell,  a  moft  beautiful  allegory  of 
human  life,  under  the  figure  of  afc-cnding  the  mountain  of  exigence,  which  he  himfelf  thought 
the  beft  of  his  writings. 

In  January  1 749,  he  published  The  Vanity  of  Human  JVifaes,bitngthiteritbSat;rcof'Julvenalimltated,'Wldl 
his  name.  Of  this  poem,  he  compofed  feventy  lines  in  one  day,  without  putting  one  of  them  upon  pa 
per  till  they  were  finiftied.  He  received  of  Dodfley,  for  the  copy,  only  fifteen  guineas.  It  has  been 
thought  to  have  lefs  of  common  life,  and  more  of  a  philofophic  dignity  than  his  London.  It  is  cha 
racterized  by  profound  reflection,  more  than  pointed  fpirit.  It  has,  however,  always  been  held  in 
high  cfteem,  and  is  certainly  as  great  an  effort  of  ethic  poetry  as  any  language  can  fhow.  The  in- 
flances  of  the  variety  of  difappointment  are  chofen  fo  judicioufly,  and  painted  fo  ftrongly,  that  the 
moment  they  are  read,  they  bring  conviction  to  every  thinking  mind. 

On  the  8th  of  February  this  year,  his  tragedy  of'Irent,  which  had  been  long  kept  back  for  want  of 
encouragement,  was  brought  upon  the  ftage  at  Drury-Lanc,  by  the  kindncfs  of  Garrick.  A  violent 
difpute  arofe  between  him  and  the  manager,  relative  to  the  alterations  neceffary  to  be  made  to  fit  it 
for  the  theatre.  The  poet  for  a  long  time  refufed  to  fubmit.  his  lines  to  the  critical  amputation  of 
the  actor,  and  the  latter  was  obliged  to  apply  to  Dr.  Taylor  to  become  a  mediator  in  the  difpute. 
Johnfon's  pride  at  length  gave  way  to  alterations;  but  whether  to  the  full  extent  of  the  manager's 
wifhes,  is  not  known.  Dr.  Adams  was  prefent  the  firft  night  of  the  reprefentation,  and  gave  Mr. 
Bofwell  the  following  account :  "  Before  the  curtain  drew  up,  there  were  catcalls  whiftling,  wkich 
alarmed  Johnfon's  friends.  The  prologue,  which  was  written  by  himfelf,  in  a  manly  ftrain,  foothed 
the  audience,  and  the  play  went  off  tolerably  till  it  came  to  the  conclufion,  when  Mrs.  Pritchard,  the 


*94  THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

heroine  of  the  piece,  was  to  be  ftrangled  upon  the  ftage,  and  Was  to  fpeak  two  lines  with  the  bow- 
firing  round  her  neck.  The  audience  cried  out,  "  Murder!  Murder!"  She  feveral  times  attempt 
ed  to  fpeak,  but  in  vain.  At  lad  fhe  was  obliged  to  go  off  the  ftage  alive."  This  paflage  was  after 
wards  ftruck  out,  and  fhe  was  carried  off  to  be  put  to  death  behind  the  fcenes,  as  the  play  now  has  it; 
Mr.  Bofwell  afcribes  the  epilogue  to  Sir  William  Yonge  ;  but  upon  no  good  foundation. 

In  the  unfavourable  decifion  of  the  public  upon  his  tragedy,  Johnfon  aquiefced  without  a  murmur. 
He  was  convinced  that  he  had  not  the  talents  neceffary  to  write  fuccefsfully  for  the  ftage,  and  never 
Hwde  another  attempt  in  that  fpecies  of  composition. 

In  December  this  year,  he  wrote  the  Preface  and  Poffcript  to  Lauder's  "  Effay  on  Milton's  Ufe, 
and  Imitation  of  the  Moderns,  in  his  Paradife  Loft,"  8vo,  a  book  made  up  of  forgeries,  and  publifh- 
ed  to  impofe  upon  mankind.  Sir  John  Hawkins  tells  us,  that  Johnfon  affifted  Lauder  from  motive* 
of  enmity  to  the  memory  of  Milton ;  but  it  appears,  that  while  Lauder's  work  was  in  the  prefs,  the 
proof  fheets  were  fubmitted  to  the  infpedioa  of  the  Ivy-Lane  Club.  If  Johnfon  approved  of  the 
defign,  it  was  no  longer  than  while  he  believed  it  founded  in  fact.  With  the  reft  of  the  club,  he 
was  in  one  common  error.  As  foon  as  Dr.  Douglas,  now  Bifhop  of  Salifbury,  efpoufed  the  caufe  of 
truth,  and  with  ability  that  will  ever  do  him  honour,  dragged  the  impoftor  to  open  daylight,  John 
fon  made  ample  reparation  to  the  genius  of 'Milton.  He  not  only  difelaimcd  the  fraud,  but  infifted 
on  the  impoftor  confiding  his  offence ;  and  for  this  purpofe  drew  up  a  recantation,  which  Lauder 
figned  and  publifhed,  intituled,  "  A  Letter  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Douglas,  occafioned  by  his  Vindication 
of  Milton,"  by  William  Lauder,  M.  A.  4to,  I7JI.  The  franknefs  of  this  confeffion  would  have 
made  fbme  atonement  for  the  bafenefs  of  the  attempt,  and  its  abjed:  humility  been  deemed  a  fuffi- 
ciect  punifhment  of  the  impoftor,  if  that  unhappy  man  had  not  had  the  folly  and  wickednefs  after 
wards  to  deny  this  apology,  and  reaffert  his  former  accufation.in  a  pamphlet  intituled,  "  KingCharle* 
Vindicated  from  the  Charge  of  Plagiarifm,  brought  againft  him  by  Milton,  and  Milton  himfelf 
convicted  of  Forgery  and  a  grofs  impofition  on  the  Public,"  8vo,  1755.  This  effort  of  fpleen  and 
malice  was  alfo  abortive  ;  and  Lauder  foon  afterwards  retired  to  Barbadoes,  where  he  died,  as  he 
bad  lived,  an  object  of  general  contempt,  in  1771. 

On  the  2Oth  March  1 750,  he  publifhed  the  firft  paper  of  the  Ramlhr>  an«!  continued  it  without 
interruption  every  Tuefday  and  Friday,  till  the  I7th  of  March  1752,  when  it  clofed.  In  carrying 
wii  this  periodical  publication,  he  feems  neither  to  have  courted,  nor  to  have  met  with  much  affift- 
ance,  the  number  of  papers  contributed  by  others  amounting  only  to  five  in  number,  four  billets  in 
Ko.  lo,  by  Mrs.  Chapone,  No.  30,  by  Mrs.  Talbot,  No.  97,  by  Richardfon,  and  Nos.  44.  and  100, 
by  Mifs  Carter.  Thefe  admirable  cffays,  we  are  told  by  Mr.  Eofwell,  were  written  in  hafte,  jnft  as 
they  were  wanted  for  the  prefs,  without  even  being  read  over  by  him  before  they  were  printed. 

Making  every  allowance  for  powers  far  exceeding  the  ufual  lot  of  man,  ftill  there  are  bounds  which 
•we  muft  fee  to  cur  belief  upon  this  head.  It  h  not  at  every  feafon  that  the  mind  can  concentrate  its 
faculties  to  a  particular  fubjeS  with  equal  ftrength,  or  that  the  fancy  can  create  imagery  fpontaneonf- 
Jy  to  aclorn  and  enforce  its  reafonings.  That  Johnfcn  fometimes  feledted  his  fubject,  culled  his  images, 
and  arranged  his  arguments  for  thefe  papers,  is  evident  from  the  notes  of  his  common-place  book, 
preferved  by  Sir  John  Hawkins  and  Mr.  Bofwell.  When  he  planned  fome  eflays  with  fuch  minute 
crvrefalnefs,  it  is  not  likely  that  he  trufted  wholly  to  the  fudden  effufions  of  his  mind  for  the  remain 
der.  Thofe  which  are  taken  from  the  notes  of  his  common-place  book,  do  not  manifeft  by  an  excel 
lence  fuperior  to  the  reft,  peculiar  labours  of  mind  in  the  conception,  or  pains  in  the  compofition ; 
ar.il  we  cannot  fuppofe  a  man  fo  happy  in  his  genius,  that  the  new-born  offspring  of  his  brain  fhould 
invariably  appear  as  ftrongand  perfect  as  thofe  •which  have  been  matured,  fafhioned,  and  polifhed  by 
it.lulous  reflection.  This,  therefore,  appears  to  be  moft  probable,  with  refpect  to  the  wonderful  fa 
tuity  which  he  is  faid  to  have  manifefied  in  this  and  other  of  his  works;  that  during  his  Qeeplefi 
nights  and  frequent  abftractions  from  company,  he  conceived  and  fketched  much  of  an  impending 
wort ;  that  though  he  had  in  fome  degree  preconceived  his  materials,  he  committed  nothing  to  paper, 
juft.  as  he  is  known  to  have  done  in  compofing  his  Vanity  of  Human  Wijbes.  If  this  fuppofition  ftrips 
the  account  of  wonder,  it  invefts  it  with  probability,  fince  a  man  of  his  powers  of  mind  and  habits 
of  compofition,  might  well  write  an  effay  at  a  fitting  and  without  a  blot,  when  he  had  little  more 
to  attend  to,  than  to  clothe  his  conceptions  in  vigorous  language,  modulated  into  fonorous  periods. 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.  795 

The  Raml'er  was  net  fuccefsful  as  a  periodical  work,  not  more  than  five  hundred  copies  of  any  ono 
Kutnber  having  been  ever  printed.  Of  courfe,  the  bookfeller,  who  paid  Johnfon  four  guineas  a  week, 
did  not  carry  on  a  very  fuccefsful  trade  ;  his  generofity  and  perfeverance  are  to  be  commended.  Whils 
it  was  coming  out  in  fingle  papers  at  London,  Mr.  James  Elphinftone  fuggefted,  and  took  the 
charge  of  an  edition  at  Edinburgh,  which  followed  progiefllvely  the  London  publication,  printed 
by  Sands,  Murray  and  Cochrane,  with  uncommon  elegance,  upon  writing  paper,  of  a  duodecimo 
fize,  and  was  completed  in  eight  volumes.  Soon  after  the  firft  folio  edition  was  concluded,  it  was 
publifhed  in  four  o<5lavo  volumes;  and  Johnfon  lived  to  fee  a  juft  tribute  of  approbation  paid  to  its 
merit  in  the  extenfivenefs  of  itsfale,  ten  numerous  editions  of  it  having  been  printed  in  London,  be- 
before  his  death,  befides  thofe  of  Ireland  and  Scotland. 

This  year  he  wrote  a  Prologue,  which  was  fpoken  by  Garrick,  before  th*  acting  of  "  Comus,"  at 
Drury-Lane  theatre,  April  5,  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Fofter,  Milton's  grand-daughter, 
afld  the  only  furviving  branch  of  his  family,  and  took  a  very  zealous  intereft  in  the  fuccefs  of  the 
charity.  Tonfon,  the  bookfeller,  gave  20  1.  and  Dr.  Newton  brought  a  large  contribution;  yet  all 
their  efforts,  joined  to  the  allurements  of  Johnfon's  pen,  and  Garrick's  performance,  procured  only 
130!. 

In  1751,  while  he  was  employed  both  on  the  Ramller  and  his  Difiionary,  he  wrote  the  Lift  »f 
Cbeynell,  in  "  The  Student,  or  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge  Mifcellany,"  a  periodical  work,  in 
which  Smart,  Colman,  Thornton,  and  other  wits  of  both  the  univerfities  diftinguiflied  their  talents. 
Sir  John  Hawkins  relates,  that  in  the  fpring  of  this  year,  he  indulged  himfclf  in  a  frolic  of  mid 
night  revelry.  This  was  to  celebrate  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Lennox's  firft  literary  child,  the  novel  of 
•'  Harriet  Stuart."  He  drew  the  members  of  the  Ivy-Lane  Club,  and  others,  to  the  number  of 
twenty,  to  the  Devil  Tavern,  where  Mrs.  Lennox  and  her  hufband  met  them.  Johnfon,  after  an  in 
vocation  of  the  mufes,  and  fome  other  ceremonies  of  his  own  invention,  inverted  the  authorefs  with 
a  laurel  crown.  The  feftivity  was  protracted  till  morning,  and  Johnfon  through  the  night  was  a 
Bachannalian,  without  the  ufe  of  wine. 

Though  his  circumftances,  at  this  time,  were  far  from  being  eafy,  he  received  as  a  confhr.t 
•vifitor  at  his  houfe,  Mifs  Anna  Williams,  daughter  of  a  Welfh  phyfician,  and  a  woman  of  more  than 
ordinary  talents  and  literature,  who  had  juft  loft  her  fight.  She  had  contracted  a  clofe  intimacy 
•with  his  wife,  and  after  her  death,  fhe  had  an  apartment  from  him,  at  all  times  when  he  had  a 
houfe.  In  1755,  Garrick  gave  her  a  benefit,  which  produced  zcol.  In  1766,  foe  publHhed  a  quarto 
volume  of  "  Mifcellanies,"  and  thereby  increafed  her  little  Hock  to  300!.  This  and  Johnfon's  pro- 
tedtion  fupported  her  during  the  reft  of  her  life. 

-  In  1753,  he  republifhed  his  verfion  of  Pope's  Mejjiab,  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine.  Soon  after 
his  clofing  the  Rambler,  March  i,  he  fuffered  a  lofs  which  affccled  him  with  the  deepeft  diftrefs. 
On  the  17111  of  March,  O.  S.  his  wife  died ;  and  after  a  cohabitation  of  feventeen  years,  left  him  a. 
childlefs  widower,  abandened  to  forrow,  and  incapable  of  confolation.  She  was  buried  in  the  chapel 
o/ Bromley,  in  Kent,  under  the  care  of  his  freind,  Dr.  Hawkefworth,  who  refided  at  that  place. 
In  the  interval,  between  her  death  and  burial,  he  compofed  a  funeral fertnon  for  her,  which  was  ne 
ver  preached  ;  but,  being  given  to  Dr.  Taylor,  has  been  published  fince  his  death.  With  the  fin- 
gularity  of  his  prayers  for  Tetty,  from  that  time  to  the  end  of  his  Life,  the  world  is  fufficiently  ac 
quainted.  By  her  firft  hulband  Hie  left  a  daughter,  and  a  fon,  a  captain  in  the  navy,  who,  at  hie 
death,  left  1 0,000 1.  to  his  filter. 

On  this  melancholy  event  Johnfon  felt  the  moft  poignant  diftrefs.  She  is,  however,  reported  not 
to  have  been  worthy  of  this  fincere  attachment.  Mrs.  Defmoulins,  who  lived  for  fome  time  with 
her  at  Hampftead,  told  Mr.  Bofwell,  that  flie  indulged  herfelf  in  country  air  and  nice  living,  at  an 
unfuitable  expence,  while  her  hufband  was  drudging  in  the  fmoke  of  London  ;  that  flic  was  negli 
gent  of  economy  in  her  domeftic  affairs ;  and  that  flie  by  no  means  treated  him  with  that  complacen 
cy  which  is  the  meft  engaging  quality  in  a  wife.  But  all  this  is  perfectly  compatible  with  his  foiul- 
nefs  for  her ;  efpecially  when  it  is  remembered,  that  he  had  a  high  opinion  of  her  underftanding  ;  and 
that  the  impreffion  which  her  beauty,  real,  or  imaginary,  had  originally  made  upon  his  imagination, 
being  continued  by  habit,  had  not  been  effaced,  though  (he  herfelf  was,  doubtlefs,  much  altered  for 
fhe  worfe.  Sir  John  Hawkins  has  declared  himfelf  inclined  to  think,"  that  if  this  fondnefs  of  Johnfon 


TpS  THE   LIFE   OF   JOHNSON. 

for  his  wife  was  not  diffembled,  it  was  a  leflbn  that  he  had  learned  by  rote  ;  ar.d  that  when  he 
practifed  it,  he  knew  not  where  to  ftop,  until  he  became  ridiculous.'1  To  argue  from  her  being 
much  older  than  Johnfon,  or  any  other  circumftances,  that  he  could  not  really  love  her,  is  abfurd ; 
for  love  is  not  a  fubject  of  reafoning,  but  of  feeling;  and,  therefore,  there  are  no  common  principles 
upon  which  one  can  perfuade  another  concerning  it.  That  Johnfon  married  her  for  love  is  be. 
lieved.  During  her  life  he  was  fond  and  indulgent.  At  her  death  he  was  agonized  ;  and,  ever  af 
ter  cherifhed  her  image  as  the  companion  of  his  mod  folemn  hours.  If  feventeen  years  pafied  in 
acts  of  tendernefs  during  their  union,  and  a  longer  period  fpent  in  regret  after  death  had  divided 
them  cannot  fix  our  opinion  that  Johnfon's  fondnefs  was  not  the  effect  of  diffimulation,  or  the  un- 
felt  leflbn  of  a  parrot,  where  (hall  we  fix  bounds  to  fufpicion,  or  place  limits  to  the  prefumption  of 
man,  in  pafling  fentence  upon  the  feelings  of  his  neighbour  ? 

The  following  authentic  and  artlefs  account  of  his  fituation  after  his  wife's  death,  was  given  to 
Mr.  Bofwell,  by  Francis  Barber,  his  faithful  negro-fervant,  who  was  brought  from  Jamaica  by  Co 
lonel  Bathurft,  father  of  his  friend  Dr.  Bathurft,  and  came  into  his  family  about  a  fortnight  after 
the  difmal  event. 

"  He  was  in  great  affliction  : — Mifs  Williams  was  then  living  in  his  houfe,  which  was  in  Gough- 
fquare.  He  was  bufy  with  his  Dictionary ;  Mr.  Shiels,  and  fome  others  of  the  gentlemen  who  had 
formerly  written  for  him,  ufed  to  come  about  him.  He  had  then  little  for  himfelf ;  but  frequently 
fent  money  to  Mr.  Shiels  when  in  diftrefr.  The  friends  who  vifited  him  at  that  time,  were  chiefly 
Dr.  Bathurft,  and  Mr.  Diamond,  an  apothecary  in  Gork-ftreet,  Burlington- Gardens,  with  whom  he 
and  Mifs  Williams  generally  dined  every  Sunday.  There  was  a  talk  of  his  going  to  Ireland  with 
him,  which  would  probably  have  happened  had  he  lived.  There  were  alfo  Mr.  Cave,  Dr.  Hawkef. 
worth,  Mr.  Ryland,  merchant  on  Tower-hill,  Mrs.  Mafters  the  poetefs,  who  lived  with  Mr.  Cave, 
Mrs.  Carter,  and  fometimes  Mrs.  Macaulay  ;  alfo  Mrs.  Gardiner,  wife  of  a  tallow-chandler  in 
Snow-hill,  not  in  the  learned  way,  but  a  worthy  good  woman  ;  Mr.  (now)  Sir  Jofliua  Reynolds, 
Mr.  Millar,  Mr.  Dodfley,  Mr.  Bouquet,  Mr.  Payne  of  Pater-nofter  Row,  bookfeller;  Mr.  Strahan 
the  printer ;  the  Earl  of  Orrery,  Lord  Southwell,  Mr.  Garrick." 

Johnfon  feems  to  have  fought  a  remedy  for  this  deprivation  of  domeftic  fociety,  in  the  compa 
ny  of  his  acquaintance,  the  circle  of  which  was  now  very  extenfive.  Among  his  more  intimate 
companions  at  this  time,  are  to  be  reckoned,  Dr.  Bathurft,  Dr.  Hawkefworth,  Sir  Jofhua  Reynolds, 
and  Bennet  Langton,  Efq.  and  Topham  Beauclerck,  Efq.  eldeft  fon  of  Lord  Sidney  Beauclerck, 
voung  men  of  elegant  manners,  who  conceived  for  him  the  moil  fincere  veneration  and  efteem.  In 
numerable,  were  the  fcenes  in  which  he  was  amufed  by  them,  who,  though  their  opinions  and 
modes  of  life  were  different,  formed  an  agreeable  attachment. 

Mr.  Bofwell  has  given  the  following  account  of  an  adventure  of  Johnfon's,  with  his  gay  compa 
nions,  which  difplays  the  author  of  the  Rambler  in  a  new  %ht,  and  fliows  that  his  conduct  was 
not  always  fo  folemn  as  his  eflays. 

"  One  night  when  Beauclerck  and  Langton  had  fupped  at  a  tavern  in  London,  and  fat  till  about 
three  in  the  morning,  it  came  into  their  heads  to  go  and  knock  up  Johnfon,  and  fee  if  they  could 
prevail  on  him  to  join  them  in  a  ramble.  They  rapped  violently  at  the  door  of  his  chambers  in  the 
Temple,  till,  at  laft,  he  appeared  in  his  (hirt,  with  his  little  black  wig  on  the  top  of  his  head  in- 
ftead  of  a  night  cap,  and  a  poker  in  his  hand  ;  imagining,  probably,  that  fome  ruffians  were  coming 
to  attack  him.  When  he  difcovered  who  they  were,  and  was  told  their  errand,  he  fruiled  and 
with  great  good  humour,  agreed  to  their  propofal.  "  What '.  is  it  you,  ye  dogs  '.  I'll  have  a  frilk  with 
you."  He  was  foon  dreft ;  and  they  fallied  forth  together  into  Covent-Garden,  where  the  green 
grocers  and  fruiterers  were  beginning  to  arrange  their  hampers  juft  come  in  from  the  country. 
Johnfon  made  fome  attempts  to  help  them ;  but  the  honeft  gardeners  ftared  fo'at  his  figure  and 
manner,  and  odd  interference,  that  he  foon  faw  his  fervices  were  not  reliflied.  They  then  repaired 
to  one  of  the  neighbouring  taverns,  and  made  a  bowl  of  that  liquor  called  Biffjof,  which  Johnfon 
had  always  liked ;  while  in  joyous  contempt  of  fleep,  from  which  he  had  been  roufed,  he  repeated 
the  feftive  lines, 

Short,  O  (hort  then  be  thy  reign, 
And  give  us  to  the  world  again  ! 


THE   LIFE    OF    JOHNSON.  797 

"  They  did  not  ftay  long,  but  walked  down  to  the  Thames,  took  a  boat,  and  rowed  to  Billir.gfgate. 
Beauclerck  and  Johnfon  we^e  to  well  pleafed  with  their  amufement,  that  they  refolved  to  perfevere 
in  diffipation  for  the  reft  of  the  day  ;  but  Langton  deierted  them,  being  engaged  to  breakfaft  with 
fome  young  ladies." 

In  the  catalogue  of  Johnfon's  vifitants,  given  by  his  fervant,  many  are,  no  doubt  omitted  ;  in  par 
ticular,  his  humble  friend  Robert  Levet,  an  obfcure  practifer  in  phyfic  amongft  the  lower  people, 
with  whom  he  had  been  acquainted  from  the  year  174.6.  Such  was  his  predilection  for  him,  and 
fanciful  eftimation  of  his  moderate  abilities,  that  he  confulted  him  in  all  that  related  to  his  health, 
and  "  made  him  fo  neceflary  to  him,  as  hardly  to  be  able  to  live  without  him."  He  now  drew 
him  into  a  clofer  intimacy  with  him,  and  not  long  after,  gave  him  an  apartment  in  his  houfe  ;  of 
which  he  continued  a  conftant  inmate  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  He  waited  upon  him  every 
morning  through  the  whole  ceurfe  of  his  tedious  breakfaft,  and  was  feen  generally  no  more  by  him 
till  midnight.  He  was  of  a  ftrange  grotefque  appearance  ;  ftiff  and  formal  in  his  manner,  and  fel- 
dom  faid  a  word  while  any  company  was  prefent.  He  married,  when  he  was  near  fixty,  a  ftreet- 
walker,  who  perfuaded  him  that  fhe  was  a  woman  of  family  and  fortune.  His  character  was  ren 
dered  valuable,  by  repeated  proofs  of  honefty,  tendernefs,  and  gratitude  to  his  benefactor,  as  well 
as  by  an  unceafing  diligence  in  his  profeflion.  His  fingle  failing  was  an  occaiionul  departure  from 

fobriety. 

In  a  fhort  time  after  the  Rambler  ceafed,  Dr.  Hawkefworth  projected  the  "  Adventurer,"  in 
connection  with  Bonnel  Thornton,  Dr.  Bathurft,  and  others.  The  firft  number  was  publiihed,  Nov. 
7.  1752,  and  the  paper  continued  twice  a-week,  till  March  9.  1754.  Thornton's  affiftance  was 
foon  withdrawn;  and  he  fet  up  a  new  paper,  in  conjunction  with  Colman,  called  the  "  Con- 
noiffeur," 

Jo'nnfon  was  zealous  for  the  fuccefs  of  the  "  Adventurer,"  which  was  at  firft  rather  more  fuccefs- 
ful  than  the  Rambler.  He  engaged  the  affiftance  of  Dr.  Warton,  whofe  admirable  efiays  are  well 
known.  April  10.  1753,  he  began  to  write  in  it,  marking  his  papers  with  the  fignature  T ;  all  of 
which,  except  thofe  which  have  alfo  the  fignature  Mifargyrus  (by  Dr.  Bathurft),  are  his.  His 
price  was  two  guineas  for  each  paper.  Of  all  thefe  papers,  he  gave  both  the  fame  and  the  profit  to 
Dr.  Bathurft.  Indeed,  the  latter  wrote  them  while  Johnfon  dictated ;  though  he  confidered  it  as  a 
point  of  honour  not  to  own  them.  He  even  ufed  to  fay  he  did  not  -write  them,  on  the  pretext  that 
he  Jiftated  them  only ;  allowing  himfclf,  by  this  cafuiftry,  to  be  "  acceflary  to  the  propagation  of 
falfehood,"  though  his  confidence  had  been  hurt  by  even  the  appearance  of  impofition  , in  writing 
the  Parliamentary  Delates.  This  year  he  wrote  for  Mrs.  Lennox,  the  Dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Orrery, 
of  her  "  Shakfpeare  liluilrated,"  a  vol.  umo. 

The  death  of  Mr.  Cave,  Jan.  10.  1 754,  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  {hewing  his  regard  for  his  early 
patron,  by  writing  his  Life,  which  was  publifhed  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  February.  This 
feems  to  have  been  the  only  new  performance  of  that  year,  exsept  his  -papers  in  the  "  Adventurer." 
In  the  end  of  July,  he  found  leifure  to  make  an  excurfion  to  Oxford,  for  the  purpofe  of  confuting 
the  libraries  there.  "  He  flayed,"  fays  Mr.  Warton,  "  about  five  weeks ;  but  he  collected  nothing 
in  the  libraries  for  his  Dictionary." 

As  the  DiSilonary  drew  towards  a  conclufion,  Chefterfield,  who  had  previoufly  treated  Johnfon 
•with  unpardonable  neglect  (which  was  the  real  caule  of  the  breach  between  them,  and  not  the 
commonly  received  ftory  of  Johnfon's  being  denied  admittance  while  Gibber  was  with  his  lordfhip), 
now  as  meanly  courted  a  reconciliation  with  him,  in  -hopes  of  being  immortalized  in  a  dedication. 
With  this  view,  he  wrote  two  effays  in  "  The  World"  in  praife  of  the  Difiionary,  and,  according  to 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  fent  Sir  Thomas  Robinfon,  to  him,  for  the  fame  purpofe.  But  Johnfon,  who 
had  not  renounced  the  connection,  but  upon  the  jufl  grounds  of  continued  neglect,  was  fenfible, 
that  to  liften  to  an  accommodation,  would  be  to  exchange  dignity  for  a  friendfhip,  trifling  in  its 
valne,  and  precarious  in  its  tenure.  He  therefore  rejected  his  advances,  and  fpurned  his  proffered 
patronage,  by  the  following  letter,  dated  February  1755,  which  is  prefcrved  here  as  a  model  of 
courtly  farcafm,  and  manly  reprehenCon,  couched  in  terms  equally  refpectful  in  their  form,  and  cut 
ting  in  their  eflence.  It  affords  the  nobleft  Icffon  to  both  author*  and  patron*  that  Hands  upon  re- 
c«rd  in  the  annals  of  literary  hiftory. 


•?<?S  THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

"  I  have  been  lately  informed  by  the  proprietor  of  "  The  World,"  that  tvvo  papers  in  which  n*f 
Difiionary  is  recommended  to  the  public,  were  written  by  your  Lordfliip.  To  be  fo  diftinguifhed,  it 
an  honour,  which,  being  very  little  accuflomcd  to  favours  from  the  great,  I  know  not  well  how  to 
receive,  or  in  what  terms  to  acknowledge. 

.,  "  When,  upon  fome  flight  encouragement,  I  firft  vifited  your  Lordfliip,  I  was  overpowered,  like 
the  reft  of  mankind,  by  your  addrcfs,  and  could  not  forbear  to  wifli  that  I  might  boaft  myfelf  Le 
valnquicur  da  vaiitquieur  de  la  terre,  that  I  might  obtain  that  regard  for  which  I  faw  the  world  contend 
ing  ;  but  I  found  my  attendance  fo  little  encouraged,  that  neither  pride  nor  modefty  would  fuffer  me 
to  continue  it.  When  I  had  once  addrefied  your  Lordfliip  in  public,  I  had  exhaufted  all  the  art  of 
pleafing,  which  a  retired  and  uncourtly  fcholar  can  poflefs.  I  had  dene  all  that  I  could ;  and  no  man 
is  well  pleafed  to  have  his  all  neglected,  be  it  ever  fo  little. 

"  Seven  years,  my  Lord,  have  now  pad,  fince  I  waited  in  your  outward  rooms,  or  was  repulfed 
from  your  door ;  during  which  time,  I  have  been  pufhing  on  my  work  through  difficulties,  of  which 
it  is  ufelefs  to  complain,  and  have  brought  it,  at  laft,  to  the  verge  of  publication,  without  one  act  of 
afliftance,  one  word  of  encouragement,  or  one  fmile  of  favour.  Such  treatment  I  did  not  expect,  for 
I  never  had  a  patron  before. 

"  The  Shepherd  in  Virgil  grew  at  laft  acquainted  with  Love,  and  found  him  a  native  of  the 
rocks. 

M  Is  not  a  patron,  my  Lord,  one  who  looks  with  unconcern  on  a  man  ftruggling  for  life  in  the  water, 
and,  when  he  has  reached  ground,  encumbers  him  with  help  ?  The  notice  which  you  have  been 
pleafed  to  take  of  my  labours,  had  it  been  early,  had  been  kind ;  but  it  has  been  delayed  till  I  am  in 
different,  and  cannot  enjoy  it,  till  1  am  folitary,  and  cannot  impart  it,  till  I  am  known,  and  do  not 
want  it.  I  hope  it  is  no  very  cynical  afperity,  not  to  confefs  obligations  where  no  benefit  has  been 
received,  or  to  be  unwilling  that  the  public  fhould  confider  me  as  owing  that  to  a  patron,  which, 
Providence  has  enabled  me  to  do  for  myfelf. 

"  Having  carried  on  my  work  thus  far,  with  fo  little  obligation  to  any  favourer  of  learning,  I  fhall 
aot  be  difappointed  though  I  fhould  conclude  it,  if  lefs  be  poflible,  with  lefs ;  for  I  have  been  long1 
wakened  from  that  dream  of  hope,  in  which  I  once  boafled  myfelf  with  fo  much  exultation, 
My  Lord,  your,  &c." 

Johnfon,  however,  acknowledged  to  Mr.  Langton,  that  '•  he  did  once  receive  ten  pounds  from 
Lord  Chefterfield ;  but  that,  as  that  was  fo  inconfiderable  a  fum,  he  thought  the  mention  of  it  could 
not  properly  find  place  in  a  letter  of  the  kind  that  this  was."  Chefterfield  read  the  letter  to  Dodf- 
ley  with  an  air  of  indifference,  "  fmiled  at  the  feveral  paffages,  and  obferved  how  well  they  were 
exprefled."  He  excufed  his  neglect  of  Johnfon,  by  faying,  "  that  he  had  heard  he  had  changed  his 
lodgings,  and  did  not  know  where  he  lived ;"  and  declared,  "  that  he  would  have  turned  off  the  beft 
fervant  he  ever  had,  if  he  had  known  that  he  denied  him  to  a  man  who  would  have  been  always 
Biore  than  welcome."  Of  Chefterfield's  general  affability  and  eafinefs  of  accefs,  efpecially  to  literary 
men,  the  evidence  is  unqueflioiiablc ;  but,  from  the  character  which  he  gave  of  Johnfon,  in  hi* 
"  Letters  to  his  Son"  [Let.  112.],  and  the  difference  in  their  manners,  little  union  or  friend/hip 
could  be  looked  for  between  them.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  Johnfon  remained  under  an  obli 
gation  to  Chefterfield,  to  the  value  of  ten  pounds. 

On  the  loth  of  February,  previous  to  the  publication  of  his  Diflionary,  the  Univerfity  of  Oxford, 
in  anticipation  of  the  excellence  of  this  work,  at  the  felicitation  of  his  friend  Mr.  Warton,  unani- 
moufiy  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Mafter  of  Arts ;  which,  it  has  been  obferved,  could  not 
be  obtained  for  him  at  an  early  period,  but  was  now  conlidered  as  an  honour  of  coufiderable  im 
portance,  in  order  to  grace  the  title-page  of  h'uDiflieiiary. 

At  length,  in  May  following,  his  D:Blonary,  with  a  Grammar  and  Hi/lory  of  the  EngUJb  Language, 
was  publifhed  in  2  vols,  folio ;  and  was  received  by  the  learned  world,  who  had  long  wifhed  for  it* 
appearance,  with  an  applaufe  proportionable  to  the  impatience  which  the  promife  of  it  had  excited. 
Though  we  may  believe  him,  in  die  declaration  at  the  end  of  his  Prefan,  that  he  "  difmiffed  it  with 
frigid  tranquillity,  having  little  to  fear  or  hope  from  cenfure  or  from  praife  ;"  we  cannot  but  fup- 
at  he  was  pleafed  "  ia  the  gloom  of  fulilude,"-with  the  h9uour  it  procured  him,  both  a- 


THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  799 

broad  and  at  home.  The  Earl  of  Corke  and  Orrery,  being  at  Florence,  prefcnted  it  to  the  Aca- 
demia  (Leila  Crufca.  That  academy  feiit  Johnfon  their  Vocabulario,  and  the  French  Academy  fent 
him  their  Di&ionaire,  by  Mr.  Langton.  As  though  he  had  forefeen  fome  of  the  circumftances 
which  would  attend  thispublication,  he  obferves,  "  A  few  wild  blunders  and  rilible  abfurdities,  from 
which  no  work  of  fuch  multiplicity  was  ever  free,  may  for  a  time  furnifh  Folly  with  laughter,  and 
harden  Ignorance  into  contempt ;  but  ufeful  Diligence  will  at  laft  prevail,  and  there  can  never  be 
wanting  fome  who  diftinguifh  defert.''  Among  thofe  who  amufed  themfelves  and  the  public  on 
this  occafion,  Mr.  Wilkes,  in  an  Eilay  printed  in  the  Public  Advertifer,  ridiculed  the  following  paf- 
fage  in  the  Grammar.  "  H  feldom,  perhaps  never  begins  any  but  the  6rft  fyllable."  The  petition 
is  undoubtedly  expreffed  with  too  much  latitude ;  but  Johnfon  never  altered  the  paffage.  Dr. 
Kenrick's  threatened  attack  feveral  years  after,  in  his  Review  of  Johnibn's  Shakfpeare,  never  faw 
the  light.  Campbell's  ridicule  of  his  ftyle  under  the  title  of  "  Lexiphanes,"  1767,  and  Calender's 
"  Deformities  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  1782,  though  laughable,  from  the  application  of  Johnfon's  "  words 
of  large  meaning''  to  infignificant  matters,  are  fcarcely  worthy  of  notice.  His  old  pupil,  Garrick, 
(Comp'fimented  him  on  its  coming  out  firft,  in  the  following  "  Epigram,"  alluding  to  the  ill-fucccfs 
of  the  forty  members  of  the  French  Academy  employed  in  fettling  their  language. 

Talk  of  war  with  a  Briton,  he'll  boldly  advance 

That  one  Englifh  foldier  will  beat  ten  of  France; 

Would  w<s  alter  the  boaft,  from  the  fword  to  the  pen, 

Our  odds  are  ftill  greater,  ftill  greater  our  men ; 

In  the  deep  mines  of  icience,  though  Frenchmen  may  toil, 

Can  their  Strength  be  compar'd  to  Locke,  Newton  and  Boyle  ; 

Let  them  rally  their  heroes,  fend  forth  all  their  powers, 

Their  verfe-men,  and  profe-men  ;  then  match  them  with  our's ; 

Firft  Shakfpeare  and  Milton,  like  gods  in  the  fight, 

Have  put  their  whole  drama  and  epic  to  flight ; 

In  fatires,  epiftles,  and  odes  would  they  cope, 

Their  numbers  retreat  before  Dryden  and  Pope, 

And  Johnfon,  well-arni'd  like  a  hero  of  yore, 

Has  beat/or/_y  French,  and  will  beat  forty  more  ! 

In  this  year,  he  afforded  his  affiftance  to  Mr.  Zechariah  Williams,  father  of  the  blind  lady  whom 
ne  had  humanely  received  under  his  roof,  who  had  quitted  his  profeffion  in  hopes  of  obtaining  the, 
great  parliamentary  reward  for  the  difcovering  of  the  long-itude ;  and  benevolently  wrote  for  him, 
"  An  account  of  an  attempt  to  afcertain  the  longitude  at  fea,  by  an  exact  theory  of  the  variation 
of  the  magnetical  needle  ;  with  a  table  of  the  variations  at  the  moft  remarkable  cities  in  Europe, 
from  the  year  1660,  to  1860,  410.  by  Zechariah  Williams."  This  pamphlet  was  published  in, 
Englifh  and  Italian,  the  translation  being  the  work,  as  it  is  fuppofed,  of  Mr.  Baretti.  Mr.  Williams 
failed  of  fuccefs,  and  died  July  12,  1755,  in  his  8jd  year.  Johnfon  placed  this  pamphlet  in  the 
^Bodleian  library,  and  for  fear  of  any  omiffion  or  miftake,  he  entered,  in  the  great  catalogue,  the 
title  page  of  it,  with  his  own  hand.  It  appears  from  his  correfpondence  with  Mr.  Warton,  that  he 
"  intended  in  the  winter,  1755,  to  open  a  Bibllotheque,  or  Literary  Journal,  to  be  intituled,  The 
Annals  of  Literature,  Foreign  as  'well  as  Dome/lie,  for  which  he  had  made  fome  provifion  of  mate 
rials  ;  but  the  fcheme  was  dropped. 

Having  fpent,  during  the  progrefs  of  the  work,  the  money  for  which  he  had  contracted  to  write 
his  Di&ionary,  he  was  ftill  under  the  neceffity  of  exerting  his  talents,  "  in  making  provifion  for  the 
day  that  was  paffing  over  him."  The  fubfcriptions  taken  in  for  his  edition  of  Skalfpeare,  and  the 
profits  of  his  mifcellaneous  efiays,  were  now  his  principal  refource  for  fubfiftence  ;  and  it  appears 
from  the  following  letter  to  Richardfon,  dated  Gough-Square,  March  1 6,  1756,  that  they  were 
infufficient  to  ward  off  the  diftrefs  of  an  arreft,  on  a  particular  emergency. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  entreat  your  affiftance  ;  I  am  now  under  an  arreft  for  five  pounds  eighteen 
fliillings.  Mr.  Strahan,  from  whom  I  fliould  have  received  the  neceflary  help  in  this  cafe  is  not  at 
home,  and  I  am  afraid  of  not  finding  Mr.  Millar.  If  you  could  be  fo  good  as  to  fend  me  this  fum,  I 
will  very  gratefully  repay  you,  and  add  it  to  all  former  obligations."  In  the  margin  of  this  letter, 
there  is  a  memorandum  ia  thefe  words;— <*  March  16. 1756.  Sent  fix  guiueas.  Witnefs  \Villuni 
Rjchardfou." 


oo  THE     LIFE   OF   JOHNSON. 

"  For  the  honour  o£  an  admired  writer,"  fays  Mr.  Murphy,  "  it  is  to  be"  rep-retted  that  we  do  noi 
find  a  more  liberal  entry."  This  anecdote  may  appear  to  fupport  the  parfimony  of  the  author, 
whofe  hero'g:ves  molt  profufely ;  but  fomething  may  ftill  be  faid  in  favour  of  Richartlfon.  All  that 
Johnfon  afktd  was  -a  temporary  fupply,  and  that.  Was  granted.  'There  was  certainly  no  oftentatious 
liberality,  but  a  kind  ?.cl,on  feems  to  have  been  done,  without  delay,  and  without  grudging.  : 

In  i  -56;  he  publifhcd  an  abridgment  c\f  his  Dictionary,  in  z  vols,  8vo,  and  contributed  to  a  publica 
tion  called  "The  Univerfa!  Vifitor,"  for  the  afliftance  of  Smart,  one  of  the  ftated  undertakers,  with, 
•whofe  unhappy  vacillation  of  mind  he  fmcerely  fympathized,  all  the  eflays  marked  with  two  ajlerfir, 
except  the  "  Life  of  Chaucer,"  <•  Reflections  on  the  State  of  Portugal,"  and  "  Eflay  on  Architecture," 
•which,  want  all  the  chai-adteriilical  marks  of  his  comtfofition.  "  Further  thoughts  on  Agriculture," 
feeing  the  fequel  of  a  very  inferjor  efiay  on  the  fame  fubjed,"  "  A  Differtation  on  the  State  of  Litera 
ture  and  Authors,"  and  "  A  Diflertation  on  the  Epitaphs  written  by  Pope,"  though  not  marked  in 
fhc  fame  manner,  appear  to  be  the  production  of  Johufoii.  The  laft  of  thefe,  indeed,  he  afterwardi 
added  to  his  Idler. 

He  engaged  alfo  to  fuperintend  and  contribute  largely  to  another  monthly  publication,  intituled, 
"  The  Literary  Magazine,  or  Univerfal  Review;"  the  firft  number  of  which  came  out  on  the  15th 
cf  May  this  year.  He  continued  to  write  in, it,  with  intermiflions,  till  the  fifteenth  number.  His 
original  e'flays  are,  "  The  Preliminary  Addrefs,"  "  An  Introduction  to  the  Political  State  of  Great 
'  Britain,"  "  Remarks  on  the  Militia  Bill,"  "  Obfervations  on  his  Britannic  Majefty's  Treaties  with 
the  Emprefs  of  RufSa,  and  the  Landgrave  of  Hefie  Caffel,"  "Obfervations  on  the  Present  State  of 
Affairs,"  and  "  Memoirs  of  Frederick  II.  King  of  Pruflia."  His  reviews  of  the,  works  of  others  are, 
"  Birch's  Hiftory  of  the  Royal  Society,"  "  Murphy's  Gray's-Inn  Journal,"  "  Warton's  Eflay  on  the 
Genius  and  Writings  of  Pope,  vol.  ift."  "Hampton's  Tranflation  of  Polybius,"  "  Blackwell's  Me 
moirs  of  the  Court  of  Auguflus,"  "  Rufiel's  Natural-Hiflory  of  Aleppo,"  "  Sir  Ifaac  Newton's  Ar 
guments  in  proof  of  a  Deity,"  "  Borlafe's  Hiftory  of  the  Ifles  of  Scilly,"  "  Home's  Experiments  on 
Bleaching,"  "  Brown's  Chriflian  Morals,"  "  Hales  on  Diftilling  Sea- Water,  &c."  "  Lucas's  Eflay  on 
"Waters,"  "  Keith's  Catalogue  of  the  Scottifh  Bifhops,"  "  -Browne's  Hiftory  of  Jamaica,"  "  Philofo- 
phical  Tranfaflions,  vol.  49th,"  "  Mrs.  Lenox's  TrctnJJation  of  Sally's  Memoirs,"  "  Mifcellanies  by  Eli 
zabeth  Harrifon,"  "  Evans's  Map,  and  Account  of  the  Middle  Colonies  in  America,"  "  Letter  on  tie 
Cafe  of  Admiral  Byng"  "  Appeal  to  the  People  concerning  Admiral  Byng,''  "  Han-way's  Eight  Day's  Jfur- 
nay,  and  Effay  on  Tea.''  "  The  Cadet,  a  Military  Treatife,"  "  Some  further  Particulars  in  *elaiion  to  the 
Cafe  of  Almiral  Byng,  by  a  Gentleman  of  Oxford"  "  The  Conduct  of  the  Miniftry  relating  to  the  prer 
fent  War,  impartially  examined,"  and  "  Jenyni's  Frss  Inquiry  inti  the  Nature  and^  Origin  of  Evil."  Mr. 
Davies,  in  his  "  Mifcellaneous  and  Fugitive  Pieces,"  has  afcribed  to  him  the  "  Review  of  Burke's 
Inquiry  into  the  Origin  of  our  Ideas  of  the  Sublime,  and  Sir  John  Hawkins  has  inferted  it  in  his  col 
lection  of  Johnfcn's  works ;  but  it  was  written  by  Mr.  Murphy.  In  his  original  effays,  he  difplays 
extenfive  political  knowledge,  expreiTed  with  uncommon  energy  and  perfpicuity.  Some  of  his  re 
views  are  very  fhort  acceunts  of  the  pieces  noticed;  but  many  of  them  are  examples  of  elaborate  cri- 
ticifm,  in  the  moft  niaflerly  ftyle,  particularly  the  review  of  Jenyns's  "  Inquiry  into  the  Origin  of  Evil.'' 
In  his  defence, of  tea,  againfl  Mr.  Hanway's  violent  attack  upon  that  popular  beverage,  he  defcribes 
hircfelf  as  "  a  hardened  and  ihamelefs  tea-drinker,  who  has  for  many  years  diluted  his  meals  with 
only  the  infufion  of  this  fafcinating  plant;  whofe  kettle  has  fcaVcely  time  to  .cool;  who  with  tea  a- 
mufes  the  evening,  with  tea  folaces  the  midnight,  and  with  tea  welcomes  the  morning,"  te  •venicntt 
Jic,  te  decedente.  Mr.  Hanway  wrote  an  angry  anfwer  to  Johnfon's  review  of  his  "•  Eflay,"  and 
Johnfon,  after  a  full  and  deliberate  paufe,.  made  a  reply  to  it;  the  only  inftance  in  the  whole 
courfe  of  his  life,  when  he  condefccnded  to  oppofe  any  thing  that  was  written  againfl  him.  Of  the 
jood  Mr.  Hanway  he  faid,  "  he  is  a. man.  whofe  failings  may  be  well  pardoned  for  his  virtues." 

'  The  fame  year  he  gave  an  edition  of  Sir  Thomtis  Browne's  "  Chriftian  Morals,"  with  his  Life 
prefixed  to  it,  which  is  one-  of  his  beft  biographical  performances.  He  wrote  alfo  a  Dedication  and 
Preface  to  the  Earl  of  Rochford  to  Payne's  "  Effay  on  the'Game  of  Draughts/'  and  accepted  of  a  guinea 
from  Dodfley,  for  writing  the  Introduction  ,to  "  The  London  Chronicle  ;"  and  even  in  fo  flight  a  per 
formance  exhibited  peculiar  talents.  At  the  fame  time  he  iffued  Profofali  of  coHfidcrable' length  for 
his  edition  of  Shakfptafe^  with  notes  ;  and  his  fancied  activity  was  fuch,  that  he  promifed  his  work 
£iouU  be  published  before  Ciuiflnjas  17.57,  though,  it  was'ftuje  years  before  .it  faw  Uif  Hght, 


.     .      T  H  E ,JL  IFF.   OF    T  O  K  .M  3  Q  ».  .        80S 

About  this  period  he  was  offered  by  Mr.  Langton,  tLe  fath-.-r  of  hi?  r.Vieh  va!\>eJ  friend,  a  living 
t>f  confiderable  value  in  Lineohifhir'.,   if  he  v.'ould  accept  i  ....ders  ;  "  but  he  chol'e  not  to 

put  off  his  lay  habit."  This  year^he  Ivy-lane  club  was  difibived,  by  the'diiperlion  of  the  ,members» 
In  1757,  it  does  npt  appear  tfrat  lie  publiihed  any  thing,  cxcip:  fome  or  thei'e  efiays  in  the  "  Li 
terary  Magazine,"  which  have  been  mention;';!.  That  :.;  ccafeJ  to  write  in  itt 
gradually  decliried ;  and  in  July  1750,  it  expired.  He  di/hiteJ,  t&3  year,  a  "  Speech  on  the  Sub 
ject  of  an  Addrefi  to  the  Throne,"  after  the  expiv'itba  :<>  Rcvhefort,  wciJi  v,-;u  delivered  by  onfi 
of  his  friends  in  a  public  meeting,  h  i .  yri,:',sd  in  t!  ^e"  for  October  1785. 
On  the  Ijth  of  April  ^7j8,  he  he;;in  ?arurday,  in  a  weekly 
newfpaper  called  the  "  Univer&l  Chro:i  ,  ;uid  was  continued  till  April 
5th  1760.  Of  103,  the  tot|torum>  •rributcC'  by  his  friends;  of  which 
Nos.  33,  93,  and  96,  were  wflfltfn  I  >,  and  No.  76,  79,  and 
8a,  by  Sir  Jofhwa  Reynolds;  the  ca-  -_ij!!ute'his  canvas  with  defor 
mity,"  being  added  by  Johnfon.  »*>  .;  fame  raind  which  produced 
the  Rambler,  but  has  lefs  body  arrt!  i  ;  itv.l  life/  and  greater  facility 
of  language.  Yet  Nos.  14,  24,  41,  -such  profundity  of  thought^ 
and  labour  of  language  as  any  of  Ms  wriri:-  •  .  fo  ':- '••- '  LI'.:,-,  \v!v.;n  cblkcted  in  volume^,  he  added 
(befide  the  EJfay  on  EpitJpbs,  and '  thu '.  >i  thofe  of  Popi),  an '  F-ffuy  cat  tb:  Xr.iwry  of'tl* 
•Englift  Common  Soldiers. 

'     In  January  1 759',  his  motTier  died,, a.t^.he •  kpe  of  ninety  ;  an  e.yent  whith  deeply  affecfted  him. 
He  regretted  his  not  having  gone  to  vifit  lie*  for  feveral  years  previous  to  her  death  ;  but  he  ha<^,  \ 
long  contributed  liberally  t6  her  fuppor't.  ' '  . 

"Soon  after  this  event,  he  wrote  his  RaJfJas,  Prince  of  Akyjjiu'j,  that,  with  the  profits,  he  might!' 
defray  the  expence  of  his  mother's  funeral,  and  pay  fome  litde  debts  which  fhe  had  left.  He  tolJ 
Sir  Jofhua  Reynolds,  that  he  compofed  it  iri  the  evenings  of  one  weeY,  fent  it  to  the  prefs  in  po'r<. 
tjpns  as  it  was  written,  and  had  never  fince  read  it  ever. ,  He  received  for  the  copy  ICG  1.  and, 
25  1.  when  it  came  to  aTecond  editiqH.  The  applaufe  given  to  the  hiftory  of  Rajftlat  has  been  fuch^ 
a^  m'uft  Hitisfy  an  author  the  moft  avaricious  of  fame.  It  has  .been  tranflated  into  various  modern 
languages,  arid  received  the  admiration  of  Europe. 

During  all  this  year  he  carried  on  his  Idler,  and  was  proceeding,  though  flowly,'  in  his  edition  of 
Shakfpcarc.  He,  however,  found  time  to  tranflate  fop  Ivirs.  Lenox's  Englifli  verfion  of  Erumoy's 
"  Greek  Theatre,"  "  A  Differtation  on  the  Greek  Comedy*"  and  the  general  "  conclufion"  of  the 
book.  On  the  controverfy  arifi^g  concerning  the  eliptical  or  circular  form  of  arches  for  Blackfriar's 
bridge,  Johnfon  engaged  in  it,  on  behalf  of  his  friend  Mr.  Gvvjn,  and  wrote  three  letters  in  the 
H  Gazetteer,"  in  oppofition  to  the  eliptical  fide  of  the  queftion,;  but  without  any  illiberal  antipathy 
to  Mr.  Mylne,  with  whom  he  afterwards  lived  upon  vejy  agreeable  terms  of  acquaintance. 

While  he  was  employed  in  writing  The  Idhr,  he  quitted  his  houfe  in  Gough-Square,  and  retired 
to  Gray's-Inn  ;  and  foon  after  Mifs  Williams  went  to  lodgings-  This  year  he  removed  to  chambers 
in  the  Inner-Temple  Lane,  "  where  he  lived,"  fays  Mr.  Murphy,  "  in  poverty,  total  idlenefs,  and 
the  pride  of  literature,  Magnl  flat  nominis  umbra.  Mr.  Fitzherbert  (the  father  of  Lord  St.  Helens), 
ufed  to  fay  that  he  paid  a  morning  vifit  to  Johnfon,  intending  from  his  chambers  to  fend  a  letter  into  • 
the  city,  but,  to  his  great  furprife,  he  found  an  author  by  profeffion,  without  pjn,  ink,  or  paper." 

His  black  fervant  Francis  Barber  having  left  him,  and  entered  on  board  a  man  of  war,  "  he  was 
humble  enough  to  defire  the  afMance"  of  Smollet  in  procuring  his  releafe.  Smollet  made  intereft 
through  Mr.  Wiikes,  and  he  was  difcharged  without  any  wifii  of  his  own,  in  die  latter  end  of  1759,' 
and  returned  to  his  mafler's  fervice. 

In  1760,  he  wrote  the  "  Addrefs  of  the  Painters  to  George  III.  on  his  acceffion,"  an  "  Introduc-s 
tion"  to  the  proceedings  of  the  Committee  for  Clothing  the  French  prifoners,  the  "  Dedication" 
for  Mr.  Earetti,  of  his  "  Italian  and  Engliih  dictionary,'1  to  the  Marquis  of  Abrcu,  the  Spanifh, 
ambaffador,  and  an  account  of  Mr.  Tythr's  Vindication,  of  Mary,  ^ui:n  of  Sects,  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  October. 

This  year  Mr.  Murphy  having  thought  himfelf,  ill  treated  by  Dr.  Franklin,  in  his  "  Differtation 
on  Tragedy,"  publilbsd  ao.  indignant  viadication  in  "  A  Poetical  Epiftle  to  Samuel  Johnfcn,  A.  M.,'* 
VOL,  XI.  3  S 


Zoi  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

in  which  he  cnmplimented  Johnfon  in  a  juft  and  elegant  manner.  This  epiftle  has  been  reprinted, 
•with  confiderable  alteration  and  additions,  in  the  collection  of  his  works,  in  7  vols,  8vo,  1786.  As  an 
injrtnious,  an  elegant,  and  moral  writer,  Mr.  Murphy  is  entitled  to  rank  in  a  fuperior  clafs.  In  col 
lecting  his  work*,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  (hould  have  taken  fo  much  pains  to  refcue  from  obli 
vion  this  epiflle,  written  during  the  violence  of  literary  diffenfion,  and  which  bears  evident  marks  of 
an  exafperated  mind.  The  expulfion  of  the  refpe&able  names  of  Dr.  Warton  and  Mr.  Mafon  from 
their  former  places,  cannot  eafilybe  defended  upon  any  other  ground  than  caprice,  or  perfonal  diflike. 

An  acquaintance  firft  commenced  between  Johnfon  and  Mr.  Murphy  in  the  following  manner : 
During  the  publication  of  his  "  Gray's-Inn  Journal,"  Mr.Mnrphy  happened  to  be  in  the  country  with 
Foote,  and  having  mentioned  that  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  London  to  get  ready  for  the  prefs  one  of 
the  numbers,  Foote  faid  to  him,  "  You  need  not  go  on  that  account.  Here  is  a  French  magazine, 
in  which  you  will  find  a  very  pretty  oriental  tale  ;  tranflate  that,  andiend  it  to  your  printer."  Mr. 
Murphy  having  read  the  tale,  was  highly  pleafed  with  it,  and  followed  Foote's  advice.  When  he 
returned  to  town,  this  tale  was  pointed  out  to  him  in  the  Rambler,  from  whence  it  had  been  tranf- 
lated  into  the  French  Magazine.  Mr.  Murphy  then  waited  upon  Johnfon,,  to  explain  this  curious 
incident;  and  a  friendfhip  was  formed,  that  continued  without  interruption  till  the  death  of  Johnfon. 

In  1761,  he  wrote  for  the  bockfellers  the  "  Preface"  to  Roll's  Dictionary  of  Trade  and  Com* 
merce :  which  difplays  a  clear  and  comprehenCve  knowledge  of  the  fubjeft,  though  he  "  never  (as 
he  faid,  faw  the  man,  and  never  read  the  book."  He  alfo  corre&ed  a  pamphlet  written  by  Mr. 
Gwyn,  intituled  "  Thoughts  on  the  Coronation  of  George  III."  arid  wrote  for  Mr.  Newbery  the 
Introdufiion  to  a  collection  of  voyages  and  travels  publifhed  by  him,  under  the  title  of  "  The  World 
Difplayed  ;"  which  contains,  in  a  plcafing  ftyle,  the  hiftory  of  navigation,  and  the  difcovery  of  Ame 
rica  and  the  iflands  of  the  Weft  Indies. 

In  1762,  he  wrote  for  Dr.  Kennedy,  in  a  flrain  of  very  courtly  elegance,  A  Dedication  t»  tie  King, 
of  his  "  Complete  Syftem  of  Aftronomical  Chronology,"  "  Dedication"  for  Mrs.  Lenox,  to  the  Earl 
of  Middlefer,  of  her  "  Female  Qoixotte,"  and  the  "  Preface"  to  the  "  Catalogue  of  the  Artift'* 
Exhibition." 

In  this  year,  Fortune,  who  had  hitherto  left  him  to  ftruggle  with  the  inconveniencics  of  a  preca 
rious  fubfiftence,  arifir>g  entirely  from  his  own  labours,  gave  him  that  independence  which  his  talents 
and  virtues  long  before  ought  to  have  obtained  for  him.     In  the  month  of  July  he  was  graced  with 
"a  penfion  of  300 1.  per  annum,  by  the  Kiog,  as  a  recompence  for  the  honour  which  the  excellence  of 
his  writings,  and  the  benefit  which  their  moral  tendency  had  been  of  to  thefe  kingdoms.     He  ob 
tained  it  by  the  interference  of  Lord  Bute,  then  firft  Lord  CommifGoner  of  the  Treafury,  upon  the 
fuggeftion  of  Mr.  Wedderburn,  now  Lord  Loughborough,  at  the  inflance  of  Mr.  Sheridan  and  Mr. 
Murphy.  For  this  independence  he  paid  the  ufual  tax.  Envyand  refentment  foonmadehim  the  mark 
to  fhoot  their  arrows  at.     Some  appeared  to  think  themfelves  more  entitled  to  royal  favour,  and 
others  recollected  his  political  opinions  and  fentiments  of  the  reigning  family.     By  fome  he  wa* 
cenfured  as  an  apoftate,  and  by  others  ridiculed  for  becoming  a  penfioner.    The  "  North  Briton" 
fupplied  himfelf  with  arguments  againft  the  Ivliniftcr  for  rewarding  a  Tory  and  a  Jacobite,  and 
Churchill  faterized  his  political  verfatility  with  the  mod  poignant  feverity. 
Hew  to  all  principles  untrue, 
Mot  fix'd  to  old  friends,  nor  to  new; 
He  damns  the  penfion  which  he  takes, 
And  loves  the  Stuart  he  forfakes. 

By  this  acceptance  of  the  king's  bounty,  he  had  undoubtedly  fubje&ed  himfelf  to  the  apellation  of 
&  penGoner.to  which  he  had  annexed  an  ignominious  definition  in  his  Difiioaary.  He  had  received 
a  favour  frem  two  Scotchmen,  againft  whofe  country  he  had  joined  in  the  rabble  cry  of  indifcrimi- 
nating  invective.  It  was  thus  that  even-handed  Juftice  commended  the  poifoned  chalice  to  his  own 
lip»,  and  compelled  him  to  an  awkward,  though  not  unpleafant  penance,  for  indulging  in  a  fplene- 
tic  prejudice,  equally  unworthy  of  his  underftanding  and  his  heart. 

The  affair  itfelf  was  equally  honourable  to  the  giver  and  the  receiver.  The  offer  was  clogged  with 
no  ftipulations  for  party  fei  vices,  and  accepted  under  no  implied  idea  of  being  recompenfed  by  poli 
tical  writings.  It  was  perfectly  underftood  by  all  parties,  that  the  penfitn  was  merely  honorary. 


THE   LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.  Soj 

It  Is  true  that  Johnfon  did  afterward*  write  political  pamphlets  in  favour  of  administration,  but  it 
wa»  at  a  period  long  fubfequent  to  the  grant  of  his  penfion,  and  in  fupport  of  a  minifter  to  whom  he 
owrd  no  perfonal  obligation.  It  was  for  the  eftabliftiment  of  opinions,  which,  however  unconftitu- 
tional,  he  had  uniformly  held,  and  publicly  avowed. 

In  1763,  he  furnifhed  to  "  The  Poetical  Calendar,"  publifhed  by  Fawkes  and  Woty,  a  Claraflcr  of 
Collint,  which  he  afterwards  engrafted  into  his  entire  Life  of  C»llint.  He  alfo  favoured  Mr.  Hoole 
with  the  Dedication  of  his  tranflation  of  Taffo  to  the  Queen. 

This  year  Mr.  Bofwell  was  introduced  to  Johnfon,  by  Mr.  Davies  the  bookfeller,  and  continued 
to  live  in  the  greateft  intimacy  with  him  from  that  time  till  his  death. 

Churchill,  in  his  "  Ghofl,"  availed  himfelf  of  the  common  opinion  of  Johnfon's  credulity,  and 
drew  a  caricature  of  him,  under  the  name  of  Pomfofo;  reprefenting  him  as  one  of  the  believers  of  the 
ftory  of  a  ghoft  in  Cock-Lane,  Which  in  1761  had  gained  very  general  credit  in  London.  Johnfon 
made  no  reply  ;  "  for  with  other  wife  folks  he  fat  up  with  the  ghofl.."  Pofterity  muft  be  allowed 
to  fmile  at  the  credulity  of  that  period.  Contrary,  however,  to  the  common  opinion  ol  J  >hnlon's 
credulity,  Mr.  Bofwell  afferts  that  he  was  a  principal  agent  in  detecting  the  impofture;  and  unde 
ceived  the  world,  by  publifhing  an  account  of  it  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  January  1768. 
Yet  by  the  circumftances  of  the  examination,  he  feems  to  have  gone  with  almoft  a  vvillingncfs  to 
believe,  and  a  mind  fcarcely  in  fufpenfe.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  fee  a  traveller  from  that  un- 
difcovered  country,  over  which,  like  the  reft  of  mankind,  he  faw  nothing  but  clouds  and  darknefs. 

In  one  of  the  convcrfations  at  the'Mirre  Tavern  this  year,  Mr.  Bofwell  relates  the  following  in- 
ftance  of  Johnfon's  profound  and  liberal  way  of  thinking,  on  a  very  nice  conftitutional  point,  which 
may,  in  fome  meafure,  render  people  cautious  of  pronouncing  decifively  on  hi«  political  creed. 

"  Goldfmith  difputed  very  warmly  with  Johnfon,  againft  the  well-known  maxim  of  the  Britifh  con- 
ftitution. "  The  king  can  do  no  wroug,"  affirming,  that  what  was  morally  falfe,  could  not  be  politi 
cally  true ;  and  as  the  king  might,  in  the  exercife  of  his  regal  power,  command,  and  caufe  the 
doing  of  what  was  wrong,  it  certainly  might  be  faid,  in  fenfe  and  in  reafon,  that  he  could  do 
wrong."  Jobnfon.  "  Sir,  you  are  to  confider,  that  in  our  cobftitution,  according  to  its  true  prin 
ciples,  the  king  is  the  head,  he  is  fupreme,  he  is  above  every  thing,  and  there  is  no  power  by  which 
he  can  be  tried.  Therefore  it  is,  Sir,  that  we  hold  the  king  can  do  no  wrong  ;  that  whatever  may 
happen  to  be  wrong  in  government  may  not  be  above  our  reach,  by  being  afcribed  tomajefty.  Redref* 
is  always  to  be  ha/i  againft  oppreflion,  by  punilhing  the  immediate  agents.  The  king,  though  he 
ihould  command,  cannot  force  a  judge  to  condemn  a  man  unjuftly ;  therefore  it  is  the  judge  whom 
we  profecute  and  punifii.  Political  infHtutions  are  formed  on  the  confideration  of  what  will  mott 
frequently  tend  to  the  good  of  the  whole,  although  now  and  then  exceptions  may  occur.  Thus  it 
is  better  that  a  nation  fhould  have  a  fupreme  legiflative  power,  although  it  may  at  times  be  abufed. 
And  then,  Sir,  there  is  this  confideration,  that,  'file  abufe  be  enormout,  nature  -will  rift  up,  and  claim 
ing  her  original  rigtit,  overturn  a  corrupt  political  fvjt em" 

."  This  generous  fentiment,"  Mr.  Bofwell  adds,  "  which  he  uttered  with  great  fervour,  (truck  me 
exceedingly,  and  ftirred  my  biood  to  that  pitch  of  fancied  refiftance,  the  poflibility  of  which  I  am 
glad  to  keep  in  mind,  but  to  which,  I  truft,  I  {hall  never  be  forced." 

In  this  year,  he  alfo  wrote  the  "  Life  of  Afcham,"  and  the  "  Dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Shaftf- 
bury,"  prefixed  to  the  edition  of  his  Englifh  works,  publiflied  by  Mr.  Beimel. 

To  enlarge  his  circle,  and  to  find  opportunities  for  converfation,  Johnfon  once  more  had  recourfe  to 
a  club.  In  February  1764,  was  founded  that  club,  which  afterwards  became  diftinguilhed  by  the  title 
of  the  LITZRARY  CLUH,  Sir  Jofliua  Reynolds  was  the  firft  propofer,  to  which  Johnfon  acceded;  ?.nd 
the  original  members  were,  bt-fide  himfclf,  Sir  Jolhua  Reynolds,  Mr.  Burke,  Dr.  Nugent,  Mr. 
Beauclerk,  Mr.  Langton,  Mr.  Chamier,  Sir  Johrt  Hawkins,  and  Goidfmith.  They  met  at  thS 
Turk's  Head,  in  Gerard  Street,  Soho,  on  every  Monday  evening  through  the  year. 

He  wrote  thi*  year  "  A  Review"  of  Grainger' s  "  Sugar  Cane,"  in  the  "  London  Chronicle,"  in 

conjunction  with  Dr.  Percy,  and  an  account  of  Goldfmith's  "  Traveller,"  in  the  "  Critical  Review." 

About  this  time,  he  was  afflicted  with  a  fevere  return  of  the  hypochondriac  diforder,  which  was  ever 

lurking  about  him.     He  was  fo  ill  as  to  be  entirely  averfc  to  fociety,  the  moft  fatal  fymptom  of  that 

milady.  X  $  fi  <j 


8o4  THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

The  fuccecding  year,  1765,  was  remarkable  for  the  commencement  of  his  acquaintance  with. 
Henry  Thrale,  Efq.  one  of  the  moft  eminent  brewers  in  England,  and  member  of  parliament  for 
Southwark.  Mr.  Murphy,  who  was  intimate  with  Mr.  Thrale,  having  fpoken  very  highly  of  J»hn- 
fon's  converfation,  he  was  requefted  to  make  them  acquainted.  This  being  mentioned  to  Johnfon, 
he  accepted  an  inviration  to  dinner  at  Mr.  Thrale's,  ^nd  was  fo  much  pleafed  with  his  reception, 
both  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thrale,  and  they  fo  much  pleafed  with  him,  that  his  invitations  to  their 
houfe  were  more  and  more  frequent;  till  at  laft,  in  1776,  he  became  one  of  th,e  family,  and  an 
apartment  was  appropriated  to  him,  both  in  their  hoafe  in  Southwark,  and  in  their  villa  at  Streatham. 
Nothing  could  be  more  fortunate  for  Johnfon  than  this  connexion.  He  had  at  Mr.  Thralc's  all 
the  comforts,  and  even  the  luxuries  of  life  ;  his  melancholy  was  diverted,  and  his  irregular  habits 
lefltned  by  affociation  with  an  agreeable  and  well-ordered  family.  He  was  treated  wich  the  utmoft 
refpect  and  even  affection.  Johnfon  had  a  very  Cncere  efteem  for  Mr.  Thrale,  as  a  man  of  excellent 
principle*,  a  good  fcholar,  well-fkilled  ia  trade,  of  a  found  underftanding,  and  of  manners  fuch  as 
prefented  the  character  of  a  plain  independent  Engl'fh  'fquire.  He  underftood  and  valued  Johnfon, 
without  remiflion,  from  their  firft  acquaintance  to  the  day  of  his  death.  Of  Mrs.  Thrale,  now  Mrs. 
Piozzi,  a  lady  of  lively  parts,  improved  by  education,  "  lefs  cannot  be  faid,"  fays  Mr.  Tyers,  "  than 
that  in  one  of  the  latter  opinions  of  Johnfon  :"  "  If  (he  was  not  the  wifeft  woman  in  the  world, 
ihe  was  undoubtedly,  one  of  the  wittieft."  She  took  fuch  care  of  him,  during  an  illnefs  of  fome 
continuance,  that  Goldfmith  told  her, "  he  owed  His  life  to  her  attention."  "  Ta  a  natural  vivacity 
in  converfation,  fhe  had  reading  enough,  and  the  gods  had  made  her  poetical.' '  The  vivacity  of  Mrs. 
Thrale's  literary  talk  rouzed  him  to  cheerfulnefs  and  attention,  even  when  they  were  alone.  But  this 
•was  not  often  the  cafe ;  for  he  found  here  a  conflant  fucceffion  of  what  gave  him  the  higheft  en 
joyment.  The  fociety  of  the  learned,  the  witty,  and  the  eminent  in  every  way,  who  were  aflem- 
bled  in  numerous  companies,  called  forth  his  wonderful  powers,  and  gratified  him  with  admiration,  to 
which  no  man  could  be  infenfible. 

There  is  fomething  in  the  conduct  of  this  worthy  poffeffor  of  wealth,  which  the  mind  loves  to 
contemplate.  Next  to  the  poffefflon  of  great  powers,  thy  moft  enviable  qualities,  are  a  capacity 
to  difcover,  and  an  inclination  to  honour  them.  To'  the  credit  of  Thrale,  let  it  be  recorded,  that 
the  patron  of  literature  and  talents,  of  which  Johnfon  fought  in  vain  for  the  traces  in  Chefterfield, 
he  found  realized  in  Thrale. 

In  July  of  this  year,  he  was  complimented  by  the  Univerfity  of  Dublin  with  the  degree  of  Doc 
tor  of  Laws,  as  the  Diploma  expreffiS  'it,  ob  egtcgiam  fcriptorum  elegantlam  et  utiiitatem,  though  he 
does  riot  appear  to  have  taken  the  title  in  confluence  of  it.  In  October,  he  at  length  gave  to  the 
world  his  edition  of  The  Plays  of  William  Sbakffiearc,  -with  ibt  Corrections  and  lllujlrationt  of  varieut 
Commentators ;  to  -which  are  added,  Nota  by  Sam.  Johnfon,  8vo  ;  which,  as  far  as  it  fell  fhortof  af 
fording  that  ample  fatbfaction  which  was  expected  from  it,  may  be  afcribed  to  his  not  having 
"read  the  books  which  the  author  read,  traced  his  knowledge  to  the  fource,  and  compared  his 
copies  with  their  originak  ;"  a  promife  he  gave,  but  was  not  able  to  perform.  Sir  John  Haw 
kins  thinks  it  a  meagre  work ;  he  complains  of  the  paucity  of  the  notes,  of  Johnfon's  want  of  induf- 
try,  and  indeed  nnfitnefs  for  the  office  of  a  Scholiaft.  It  was  treated  with  great  illiberality  by  Dr. 
Xenrick,  in  the  firft  part  of  a  "  Review"  of  it,  which  was  never  completed.  It  is  to  be  admit 
ted,  that  he  has  neither  fo  fully  reformed  the  text,  by  accurate  collations  of  the  firft  editions,  nor  fo 
fairly  illuftrated  his  author,  in  his  notes,  by  quotations  from  the  "  writers  who  lived  at  the  fame  time, 
immediately  preceded,  or  immediately  followed  him,"  as  has  been  done  by  other  able  and  ingeni 
ous  critics,  who  have  follawed  him ;  Mr.  Steeven?,  Mr.  Capel,  Mr.  Malone,  Mr.  Reed,  &c. 
whofe  labours  have  left  little  to  add  to  the  commentaries  on  Shakfpeare.  But  what  he  did  as  a 
commentator,  has  no  fmall  fliare  of  merit,  though  his  refearches  were  not  fo  ample,  and  his  invef- 
tigations  fo  acute  as  they  might  have  been.  He  has  enriched  his  edition  with  a  concife  account  of 
each  play,  and  of  its  characteriftic  excellence.  In  thc'fagactty  of  his  emendatory  criticifms,  and 
the  happinefs  of  his  interpretations  of  obfcure  paflages,  he  furpaffes  every  editor  of  this  poet.  Mr. 
Malone  confeffes,  "  that  Johnfon's  vigorous  and  comprehenfive  underftanding  threw  more  light  on 
his  author,  than  all  his  predeccffors  had  done."  His  Preface  has  been  pronounced  by  Mr.  Malones 
to  be  the  fineft  competition  ia  our  language ;  and  having  regard  to  it:  fnbjeft  ^and  extent,  it  ccr- 


THE   LIFE   OF   JOHUNSON.  Zoj 

talr.ly  would  be  difficult  to  name  one  pofftfiing  a  fuperior  claim  to  fuch  fup?rlative  praife.  Whether 
we  confider  the  beauty  and  vigour  of  its  compofition,  the  abundance  and  claflical  feleclion  of  its  al- 
lufions,  the  juftnefs  of  the  general  precepts  of  criticifm,  and  its  accurate  eftimate  of  the  excellen 
cies  or  defects  of  his  author,  it  is  equally  admirable.  He  feems  to  raife  his  talents  upon  a  level 
with  thofe  of  his  poet,  upon  whofe  \yorks  he  fits  as  a  critical  judge,  to  rival,  by  the  luftre  of  hii 
praifes,  the  fplendour  of  the  original,  and  to  follow  this  eagle  of  Britifh  poetry  through  all  his 
gyres,  with  as  keen  an  eye,  and  upon  as  ftrong  a  wing.  The  Preface  to  his  DiRlsnary,  correft  ai 
it  is,  muft  yield  the  palm  of  excellence  to  that  prefixed  to  his  Shakfpeare ;  but  it  yields  it  only  bc- 
caufe  the  fubjed  was  lefs  favourable  to  the  full  difplay  of  his  powers. 

Tn  1766,  he  removed  from  the  Inner- Temple  Lane,  to  a  good  houfe  in  Johnfon's- Court,  Fleet 
Streer,  in  which  he  accommodated  Mifs  Williams  with  an  apartment  on  the  ground  floor,  while 
Mr.  Levett  occupied  his  poft  in  the  garret. 

This  year  he  only  wrote  the  Dedication  to  the  King,  of  Gwyn's  "  London  and  Weftminfter  Im 
proved,"  and  furnifhed  the  Preface,  and  the  following  pieces  for  Mifs  Williams's  "  Mifcellanies  in 
Profe  and  Verfe,"  410:  The  Ant,  "  To  Mifs  — ,  on  her  giving  the  Author  a  Gold  and  Silk  Net-york 
Purfe  of  her  own  weaving;"  "  The  Happy  Life,  On  the  Death  cf  Stephen  Gray,  the  Etefirhian"  and 
"  The  Fountains,"  a  Fairy  Tale,  in  Profe.  The  firft  fketch  of  the  poem  on  'Stefan  Gray,  was  written 
by  Mifs  Williams,  but  Johnfon  told  Mr.  Bofwell,  "  that  he  wrote  it  all  over  again,  except  two 
lines."  This  publication  was  encouraged  by  a  genteel  fubfcription. 

In  1767,  he  only  wrote  the  Ltdhathn  to  the  King,  for  Mr.  Adams's  "  Treatife  on  the  Globes." 
In  February,  he  was  honoured  by  a  private  convtrfation  with  the  king,  in  the  library  at  Bucking 
ham  Houfe,  *'  which  gratified  his  monarchic  enthufiafm."  The  interview  was  fought  by  the  king 
without  the  knowledge  of  Johnfon.  His  majefty,  among  other  things,  afked  the  author  of  fo  ma 
ny  valuable  works,  if  he  intended  to  publifh  any  more.  Johnfon  modeflly  anfwered,  that  he  thought 
he  had  written  enough.  "  And  fo  fhould  I  too,"  replied  the  king,  "  if  you  had  not  written  fo 
well."  Johnfon  was  highly  pleafed  with  his  majefty's  courteoufnefs;  and  afterwards  obferved  to 
Mr  Langton,  "  Sir,  hia  manners  are  thofe  of  as  fine  a  gentleman,  as  we  may  fuppofe  Lewis  XIV.  or 
Charles  II." 

Johnfon  had  now  arrived  at  that  eminence  which  is  the  prize  that  cultivated  genius  always  ftrug- 
gles  for,  and  but  feldom  obtains.  His  fortune,  though  not  great,  was  adequate  to  his  wants,  and 
of  mofl  honourable  acquifition;  for  it  was  derived  from  the  produce  of  his  labours,  and  the  rewards 
which  his  country  had  beflowed  upon  merit.  He  received  during  life  that  unqualified  applaufe 
from  the  world  which  is  in  general  paid  only  to  departed  excellence,  and  he  beheld  his  fame  feated 
firmly  in  the  public  mind,  without  the  danger  of  its  being  fhaken  by  obloquy,  or  the  hazard  of  its 
being  fhared  by  a  rival.  He  could  number  among  his  friends  the  greateft  and  moft  improved  ta 
lents  of  the  country.  His  company  was  courted  by  wealth,  dignity,  and  beauty  ;  his  many  peculi 
arities  wtre  overlooked,  or  forgotten  in  the  admiration  of  his  underftanding,  while  his  virtues  were 
regarded  with  veneration,  and  his  opinions  adopted  with  fubmiflion.  Of  the  ufual  infenfibility  of 
mankind  to  living  merit,  Johnfon,  at  leaft,  had  no  reaibn  to  complain. 

In  1768,  nothing  of  his  writing  was  given  to  the  public,  except  the  Prologue  to  his  friend  Gold- 
fmith's  comedy  of  the  "  Good  Natured  Man." 

In  1769,  he  was  altogether  (quiefcent  as  an  author. "  On  the  eflablifhment  of  the  Royal  Academy 
this  year,  he  accepted  the  title  of.  Profcffor  of  Ancient  Literature. 

In  1770,  he  publifhed  a  political  pamphlet,  intituled  71.<e  Falfe  Alarm,  8vo. ;  intended  to  juftify 
the  conduct  of  miniftry,  and  their  majority  in  the  Houfe  of  Commons,  for  having  virtually  affumec! 
it  as  an  axiom,  that  the  expulfion  of  a  member  of  parliament  was  equivalent  to  exclufion,  and  their 
having  declared  Colonel  Luttrel  to  be  duly  eleded  for  the  county  of  Middlefex,  notwithftanding 
Mr.  Wilkes  had  a  great  majority  of  votes.  This  being  very  juftly  confidered  as  a  grofs  vio 
lation  of  the  right  of  election ;  an  alarm  for  the  conftitution  extended  itfelf  all  over  the  kingdom. 
To  prove  this  alarm  to  be  falfe,  was  the  purpofe  of  Johnfon's  pamphlet;  but  his  arguments  and  elo 
quence  failed  of  effect,  and  the  Houfe  of  Commons  has  fince  erafed  the,  offenfive  refolution  from  the 
Journal*.  This  pamphlet  has  great  merit  in  point  of  language  ;  but  it  contains  much  grois  mifjr;. 

1 1  lij 


«r6  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

prefentation,  and  much  malignity,  and  abounds  with  fuch  arbitrary  principles,  as  are  totally  incon- 
fiftent  with  a  free  conftitution. 

The  next  year,  1771,  he  defended  the  meafures  adopted  by  the  miniftry,  in  the  difpute  with  the 
court  of  Spain,  in  a  pamphlet  intituled  Tlougbts  en  tie  late  Tranfaftioni  reffeS'tng  Falkland's  I/land,  8vo. 
On  the  fubjedt  of  Falkland's  Iflands,  fpots  "  thrown  afide  from  human  ufe,  barren  in  fummer,  and 
ftormy  in  winter,"  he  appears  to  have  followed  the  dire&ion,  and  adopted  the  opinions  which  a  pu- 
fillanimou*  admiriftration  wifhcd  to  inculcate.  They  were  certainly  erroneous  in  a  political 
view  and  if  they  were  his  own,  fhow  that  on  fuch  fubjedls  he  was  incapable  of  forming  a 
juft  opinion.  His  defcription  of  the  miferies  of  war,  in  this  pamphlet,  is  a.  fine  piece  of  elo- 
quen'cc.  and  his  character  of  Juniut  is  executed  with  all  the  force  of  his  genius,  and  with  the 
higheft  care. 

Wlun  Johnfon  fhone  in  the  plenitude  of  his  political  glory,  from  the  celebrity  of  his  miniflerial 
pamphU  ts  an  attempt  was  made  to  bring  him  into  the  Houfe  of  Commons,  by  Mr.  Strahan,  the 
king's  printer,  who  was  himfelf  in  parliament,  and  wrote  to  the  fecretary  of  the  treafury  upon  the  fub- 
je&;  but  the  application  was  unfucccfsful.  Whether  tbere  were  any  particular  reafons  for  the  re- 
fuialjias  not  tranfpircd.  That  Johnfon  very  much  wifhed  to  "  try  his  hand"  in  the  fenate,  he  has 
himfelf  declared  .  but  that  he  would  have  fucceeded  as  a  parliamentary  fpeaker,  is  at  leaft  doubtful. 
Few  have  diflinguifhed  thcmfclves  as  orators,  who  have  not  begun  the  pradice  of  fpeaking  in  pub 
lic  early  in  life;  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  habits  of  regular  and  correct  compofition  arc 
not  unfavourable  to  that  quick  unpremeditated  elocution  which  is  fo  much  admired,  and  fo  ufeful  in 
animated  debate.  This  at  leaft  is  certain,  that  of  the  many  perfons  eminent  for  literary  abilities, 
who  have  had  feats  in  parliament,  noiae  have  gained  a  reputation  for  eloquence  commenfurate  with 
their  talents  and  information  ;  and  of  Johnfon,  in  particular,  it  is  reported  upon  the  authority  of 
Sir  William  Scott,  that  he  had  feveral  times  tried  to  Ipeak  in  the  Society  of  Arts  &c.  but 
"  had  found  thst  he  could  not  get  on."  It  was  obferved  by  the  late  Henry  Flood,  Efq.  who  was 
himfelf  an  eminent  orator,  that  "  Johnfon  having  been  long  ufed  to  fententious  brevity,  and  the 
fhort  flights  of  converfation,  might  have  failed  in  that  continued  and  expanded  kir.d  of  argument 
which  is  requifite  in  dating  complicated  matters  in  public  fpeaking." 

In  I77a,  he  produced  np  literary  performance.  His  only  publication  in  1773,  was  a  new  edition 
of  his  Dictionary,  with  addi'ion?  and  corrections.  In  the  autumn  of  1773, he  gratifieda  "  wifh  which 
he  had  fo  long  entertained,  that  he  fcarcely  remembered  how  it  was  formed,  of  vifiting  the  Hebrides, 
orweftern  iflands  of  Scotland.  '  He  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  "  whofe  acutenefs,"  he  after 
ward*  obferved,  "  would  help  his  inquiry,  and  whofe  gaiety  of  converfation,  and  civility  of  manners, 
were  fufncient  to  counterad  the  inconveniencies  of  travel  in  countries  lefs  hofpitable  than  thofe  they 
were  to  pafs." 

His  ftay  in  Scotland  was  from  the  i8th  of  Auguft,  till  the  aid  of  November,  when  he  fet  out  on 
his  return  to  London.  His  various  adventures,  and  the  force  and  vivacity  of  his  mind,  as  exercifcd 
during  his  tour,  have  been  defcribed  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  in  his  "  Journal  of  a  Tour  to  the  Hebrides," 
8vo  ,  1786,  in  a  flyle  that  fhows  he  poffcffed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  fkill  .to  give  connection  to 
mifcellaneou*  matter,  and  vivacity  to  the  whole  of  his  narrative. 

At  the  approach  of  the  general  ele&ion,  in  1774,  he  pubiifhed  a  fhort  political  pamphlet,  intituled 
The  Patriot;  addrt/ed  to  tie  Elcflors  of  Great  Britain,  8vo,  not  with  any  vifible  application  to  Mr. 
Wilkes,  but  to  teach  the  people  to  reject  the  leaders  of  oppofuion,  who  called  themftlves  pa 
triots.  It  was  calkd  for,  he  tells  us,  by  his  political  friends,  on  Friday,  and  was  written  on  Satur 
day. 

The  firft  effort  of  his  pen,  in  1775,  was  "  Propofals  for  publifhing  by  fubfcription,  the  works  of 
Mrs.  Charlotte  Lennox,  in  3  vols.  4*0.."  which  was  foon  fucceeded  by  a  pamphlet,  intituled  Ta\-a- 
tlon  no  Tyranny;  An  Anjiier  to  the  Mefolutions  and  Addr-fs  of  the  American  Ccngrefs,  8vo.  The  fcope 
.of  the  argument  was,  that  diilant  colonies  which  had  in  their  affemblie-i  a  legiflature  of  their  own ; 
were,  notwithflanding,  liable  to  be  taxed  in  a  Britifh  Parliament,  where  they  had  neither  peers  in 
one  l;nufe,  nor  reprefentatives  in  the  other.  The  principle  has  been  long  abandoned;  but  Johnfon 
was  of  opinion,  that  this  country  was  ftrong  enough  to  enforce  obedience;  "  When"  fays  he,  "  an 
Englifliman  is  told  that  the  Americans  fhoot  up  like  a  hydra,  he  naturally  confiders  hew  the  hydra 


THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  to* 

was  deftroyed."  The  event  has  fhown  how  much  he  was  miftakcn.  This  pamphlet  was  written 
at  the  defirc  of  the  miniftry,  and  in  fome  places  corrcded  by  them.  It  contained  the  fame  pofitive 
aflertions,  farcaftical  feverity,  extravagant  ridicule,  and  arbitrary  principle*  with  his  former  political 
pieces,  and  the  groffeft  and  moft  virulent  abufe  of  the  Americans. 

Thefe  pamphlets  were  publifhed  on  his  own  account,  and  were  afterwards  collected  by  him  into 
a  volume  under  tlie  title  of  Political  1raRst  ly  the  Author  cf  tie  Rambltrt  8vo.  1 7  75. 

In  the  month  of  March,  this  year,  he  was  gratified  by  the  title  of  Doctor  of  Laws,  conferred  on 
him  by  the  Univerfity  of  Oxford,  at  the  felicitation  of  Lord  North.  In  September  he  vifited  France, 
for  the  firfl  time,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thrale.and  Mr.  Baretti ;  and  returned  to  England  in  about  two 
months  after  he  quitted  it.  Foote,  who  happened  to  be  in  Paris  at  the  fame  time,  faid,  that  the 
French  were  perfectly  aftonifhed  at  his  figure  and  manner,  and  at  his  drefs ;  which  was  exaflly  the 
fame  with  what  he  was  accuilomed  to  in  London  :  his  brown  clothes,  black  ftockir-gs,  and  plain 
fhirt.  Of  the  occurrences  of  this  tour,  he  kept  a  journal,  in  all  probability,  with  a  defign  of  writing 
an  account  of  it.  The  world  has  to  regret,  that  from  want  of  leifure  or  inclination,  he  never  per 
fected  it. 

This  year  he  alfo  wrote  the  Preface  to  Mr.  Baretti'»  "  Leflons,  Italian  and  Englifh,"  and  pub- 
liihed  an  account  of  his  Tour  to  the  Hebrides,  under  the  title  of  A  Journey  to  tie  JVtflern  Ifland*  of 
Scotland,  Svo.  This  elegant  narrative  has  been  varioufly  praifed  and  abufcd  in  the  newfpapers,  ma 
gazines,  and  other  fugitive  publications.  It  was  formally  attacked  by  the  Rev.  Donald  M'Nicol,  in 
his  "  Remarks"  &c.  8»o.  1780.  That  it  is  written  with  an  undue  prejudice  againft  both  the  coun 
try  and  people  of  Scotland,  muft  be  allowed ;  but  it  abounds  in  extenfive  philofophical  views  of 
fociety,and  in  ingenious  fentiments,  and  lively  defcription.  Among  many  other  difquifitions  equally 
inftruclive  and  amufing,  he  expreffes  his  difbelief  of  the  authenticity  of  the  poems  of  Offian,  pra- 
fented  to  the  public  as  a  tranflatiou  from  the  Erfc,  in  fuch  terms  as  honefl  indignation  is  apt  to  hurl 
againft  impofition.  If  there  was  a  manufcript,  in  what  age  was  it  written  ?  and  where  is  it  ?  IS  it 
was  colle&ed  from  oral  recitation  in  different  parts  of  the  Highlands,  who  put  it  together  in  itt 
prefent  form  ?  Thefc,  and  fuch  like  obfervations,  provoked  the  refcntment  of  Mr.  Macphcrfon  ;  he 
fent  a  threatening  letter  to  the  author,  and  Johnfon  anfwered  him  in  the  rough  phrafe  of  ftern  de» 
fiance. 

"  I  received  your  fot/liih  and  impudent  letter.  Any  violence  offered  me,  I  mall  do  my  beft  19 
repel ;  and  what  I  cannot  do  for  myfelf,  the  law  fball  do  for  me.  I  hope  I  (hail  never  be  deterred 
from  detecting  what  I  think  a  cheat  by  the  menaces  of  a  ruffian. 

"  What  would  you  have  me  retract  ?  I  thought  your  book  an  impofture ;  I  think  it  an  impoftur* 
ftill.  For  this  opinion  I  have  given  my  reafons  to  the  public,  which  I  here  dare  you  to  refute. 
Your  rage,  I  defy.  Your  abilities,  fince  your  Homer,  are  not  fo  formidable ;  and  what  I  hear  of 
your  morals  inclines  me  to  pay  regard  not  to  what  you  fhall  fay,  but  what  you  fhall  prove.  You 
may  print  this  if  you  will." 

The  threats  alluded  to  in  this  letter  never  were  attempted  to  be  put  in  execution.  But  Johnfon, 
as  a  provifion  for  defence,  furniflied  himfelf  with  a  large  oaken  plant,  fix  feet  in  height,  of  the  dia 
meter  of  an  inch  at  the  lower  end,  increafihg  to  three  inches  at  the  top,  and  terminating  in  a  head 
(once  the  root)  of  the  Cze  cf  a  large  orange.  This  he  kept  in  his  bed-chamber,  fo  near  his  chair, 
as  to  be  within  his  reach. 

In  1776,  be  wrote  nothing  for  the  public.  This  year  he  removed  from  No.  7.  Johnfon'*  Court, 
to  a  larger  houfe,  No.  8.  Bolt-Court,  Fleet-Street,  with  a  garden  "  which  he  took  delight  in  water 
ing."  A  room  on  the  ground- floor  was  affigned  to  Mifs  Williams,  and  the  whole  of  the  two  pair 
of  flairs  floors  was  made  a  repcfitory  for  his  books,  confuting  of  about  5000  volumes.  Here,  in  the 
intervals  of  his  refidence  at  Streatham.he  fit  every  morning  receiving  vifits,  and  hearing  t'  e  topics  of 
the  day,  and  indolently  trifling  away  the  time  ;  and  to  the  moft  intimate  of  his  friends,  Dr.  Burncy^ 
Mr.  Hoole,  Mr.  Murphy,  Mr.  Davies,Mr.  Baretti,  Mr.  Bofwell,  Mr.  Langton,  &c.  fometimes  gave, 
not  inelegant  dinners.  Chemiftry  afforded  fume  amufenu nt.  In  Cough-Square,  and  in  Johnfon'** 
Court,  he  had  an  apparatus  for  that  purpofe ;  and  the  fame,  with  perhaps  a  few  additions,  was  now 
fixed  up  in  Bolt-Court.  He  had  alfo  a  fort  of  laboratory  at  Streatham,  and  diverted  himfelf  with 
drawing  effences,  and  colouring  liquors  for  Mrs.  Thrale. 

3  E  iiij 


go8  THE   LIFE  "OF  JOHNSON. 

Johnfon's  benevolence  to  the  unfortunate, was,  at  all  periods  of  hislife,  very  remarkable.  Inhishoufo 
at  Bolt-Court,  an  apartment  was  appropriated  to  Mrs.  Defmoulins,  daughter  of  his  god-father,  Dr. 
Swinfen,  and  widow  of  Mr.  Defmoulins,  a  writing-matter,  and  her  daughter,  and  a  Mifs  Carmichael. 
Such  was  his  humanity,  and  fnch  his  generofity,  that  he  allowed  Mrs.  Defmoulins  half-a-guinea 
a-weefc,  which  was  above  a  twelfth  part  of  his  penfion. 

"  It  feems"  fays  Mrs.  Piozzi,  "  at  once  vexatious  and  comira',  toreflecl  that  the  diffenfions  thofe 
people  chofe  to  live  in,  diftreffed  and  mortified  him  exceedingly.  He  really  was  oftentimes  afraid 
of  going  home,  becaufe  he  was  fure  to  be  met  at  the  door  with  numberlefs  complaints,  and  he  ufed 
to  lament  pathetically  to  me,  and  to  Mr.  Saftres,  the  Italian  mafter,  who  was  much  his  favourire, 
that  they  made  his  life  miferable,  from  the  impcflibility  he  found  of  makirtg  theirs  happy  ;  when 
every  favour  he  beflowed  on  one,  was  wormwood  to  the  reft.  If,  ho-wever,  I  ventured  to  blame 
their  ingratitude,  and  condemn  their  conduifl,  he  would  inilantly  fet  about  foftfining  the  one,  and 
juftifying  the  other  ;  and  finiflied  commonly  by  telling  me,  that  1  knew  not  to  make  allowances  for 
Gtuations  I  never  experienced. 

To  thee  no  reafon,  who  know'ft  only  good, 
But  evil  hall  not  try'd.  Milton." 

In  1777,  the  fate  of  Dr.  Dodd  excited  Johnfon's  compaffion,  and  called  forth  the  ftrenuous  exertion 
of  his  vaft  comprehenfive  mind.  He  thought  his  fentence  pit;  yet,  pet  baps,  fearing  that  religion 
might  fufler  from  the  errors  of  one  of,  its  miniilerE,  he  endeavoured  to  prevent  the  laft  ignominious 
fpe&acle.  He  wrote  for  that  unhappy  man,  his  Speech  to  tie  Recorder  of  London,  at  the  Old  Bailey,  when 
the  fentence  of  death  was  about  to  be  pronounced  upon  him;  The  Cmvift's  dddrefs  to  his  Utbappy 
Brethren,  a  fermon  delivered  by  him  in  the  chapel  of  Newgate;  two  Letters,  one  to  Lord  Chancellor 
Bathurft,  and  one  to  Lord  Mansfield ;  A  1'etition  from  Dr..  Dodd  to  the  King  -,  A  Petition  from  Mrs. 
Dodd  to  the  Queen ;  Obfervations  in  the  newfpapers,  on  occafion  of  JEarl  Percy's  having  prefent- 
cd  a  petition  for  mercy  to  Dodd,  figned  by  twenty  thoufand  people  ;  A  Petition  from  the  city 
ef  Lor.dun,  and  Dr.  Dodd's  Lajl  Solemn  Ledaration,  which  he  left  with  the  fheriff  at  the  place  of  exe 
cution. 

In  the  fummer  he  wrote  a  Prologue  to  Kelly's  comedy  of  "  A  Word  to  the  Wife,"  acled  at  Co* 
vent-Garden  theatre,  for  one  night,  for  the  benefit  of  the  author's  widow  and  children.  He  alfo 
made  fome  additions  to  the  life  of  Bifliop  Pearce  (who  affifled  him  with  feme  etymologies  in  the 
compilation  of  his  di&ionary),  prefixed  to  his  pcfihumous  works,  in  a  vols.  4to.,  and  wrote  the  Dt~ 
dicaiien  to  the  King. 

This  year  he  engaged  to  write  a  concife  account  of  the  Lives  of  tie  Engrfi  Poets,  whofe  works 
were  inferted  in  an  edition  undertaken  by  the  London  bookfijlers,  at  that  time,  in  oppofition  to  the 
edition  of  the  "  Britifh  Poets,"  printing  by  the  Martins  at  Edinburgh,  and  to  be  fold  by 
Mr.  Bell  in  London.  As  a  recompence  for  an  undertaking,  as  he  thought,  "  not  very  tedious  or 
difficult,"  he  bargained  for  two  hundred  guineas;  and  was  afterward*  prefented  by  the  proprietor* 
with  one  hundred  pounds.  His  defign  was  only  to  have  allotted  to  every  poet  an  AdveTtifement, 
like  that  which  we  find  in  the  French  mifcellanies,  containing  a  few  dates,  and  a  general  character, 
which  would  have  conferred  not  much  reputation  upon  the  writer,  nor  have  communicated  much 
information  to  his  readers.  Happily  for  both,  "  the  honeft  defire  of  giving  ufeful  pleafure,"  led  him 
beyond  his  firft  intention.  In  executing  this  limited  defign,  he  found  his  attention  fo  much  engaged, 
that  he  enlarged  his  fclieme,  and  entered  more  fully  into  the  merits  and  value  of  the  principal 
writers;  and  produced  an  ample,  rich,  and  entertaining  view  of  thtm  in  every  refpe&.  The  firft 
four  volumes  of  this  work  were  publiihed  in  1779,  under  the  title  of  Biographical  and  Critical 
Prefaces,  and  the  remaining  five  in  1781.  "Some  time  in  March'*  he  fays,  in  his  Meditations, 
"  1  finifhed  the  Lives  of  tie  Poets,  which  I  wrote  in  my  ufual  way,  dilatorily  and  haftily,  unwilling  to 
work,  and  working  with  vigour  and  hafte."  In  a  memorandum  previous  to  this,  he  fays  of  them  ; 
".  Written,  I  hope,  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  may  tend  to  the  promotion  of  piety." 

In  the  fele&ion  of  the  poets  he  had  no  refponfible  concern ;  but  Blackmore,  Watts,  Pomfret,  and 
Yalden,  were  inferted  by  his  recommendation  ;  and  Mr.  Nichols  tells  us,  he  was  frequently  ccm^ 
fulted  during  the  printing  of  the  collection,  and  revifed  many  of  the  flieets. 


THE  LIFE   Of  JOHNSON.  toy 

This  was  the  laft  of  Johnfon's  literary  labours;  and  though  completed  when  he  was  in  his  feven- 
ty-firft  year,  fliows  that  his  faculties  were  in  as  vigorous  a  ftate  as  ever.  His  judgment  and  his 
tafte,  his  quicknefs  in  the  difcrimination  of  motives,  and  facility  of  moral  reflection,  fhine  as  ftrong- 
ly  in  thefe  narratives,  as  in  any  of  his  more  early  performances,  and  his  ftyle,  if  not  fo  energetic,  is  at 
leaft  more  fmoothed  down  to  the  tafte  of  the  generality  of*  critical  objectors. 

The  Lives  of 'tie  Engl'ijb  Poets  formed  a  memorable  era  in  Johnfon's  life.  It  is  a  work  which  has 
contributed  to  immortalize  his  name,  and  has  fecured  that  rational  efteem  which  party  or  partiality 
could  not  procure,  and  which  even  the  injudicious  zeal  of  his  friends  has  not  been  able  to  leffen. 

From  the  clofe  of  his  laft  great  work,  the  malady  that  perfecuted  him  through  life  came  upon  him 
Njvith  redoubled  force.^  His  conftitution  declined  faft,  and  the  fabric  of  his  mind  feemed  to  be  tot 
tering.  The  contemplation  of  his  approaching  end  was  conftantly  before  his  eyes ;  and  the  profpedt 
«f  death,  he  declared,  was  terrible.. 

On  the  4th  of  May  1781,  he  loft  his  valuable  friend  Thrale,  who  appointed  him  one  of  his  execu 
tors,  with  a  legacy  of  ZOO  1.  "  1  felt,"  he  faid,  "  almoft  the  laft  flutter  of  his  pulfe,  and  looked  for 
the  laft  time  upon  the  face  that,  for  fifteen  years,  had  never  been  turned  upon  me,  but  with  refpedb 
and  benignity."  Of  his  departed  friend  he  has  given  a  true  character  in  a  Latin  epitaph,  to  be  feen 
in  the  church  of  Streatham. 

With  Thrale,  many  of  the  comforts  of  Johnfon's  life  may  be  faid  to  have  expired.  In  the  courfc 
of  1782,  he  complains  that  he  "  paffed  the  fummer  at  Streatham,  but  there  was  no  Thrale."  In 
the  fame  year  he  received  another  fhock.  He  was  fuddenly  deprived  of  his  old  domeftic  compa 
nion  Levett,  and  paid  a  tribute  to  his  memory  in  an  affecting  and  characteriftic  Elegy. 

The  fucceffive  lofles  of  thofe  acquaintances  whom  kindnefs  had  rendered"  dear,  or  habit  made  ne- 
eeffary  to  him,  reminded  Johnfon  of  his  own  mortality. 

After  the  death  of  Thrale,  his  vifits  to  Streatham,  where  he  no  longer  looked  upon  himfelf  as  a 
welcome  gueft,  became  lefs  and  lefs  frequent;  and  on  the  jth  of  April  1783,  he  took  his  final  leave 
of  Mrs.  Thrale,  to  whom,  for  near  twenty  years,  he  was  under  the  higheft  obligations. 

"  The  original  reafon  of  our  connection,"  fays  Mrs.  Pinzzi,  in  her  lively  and  entertaining  "  Anec 
dotes,"  his  particularly  difordcred  health  and  fpirits,  had  been  long  at  an  end.  Veneration  for  his  vir 
tue,  reverence  for  his  talents,  delight  in  his  converfation,  and  habitual  endurance  of  a  yoke  my  huf- 
fcand  firft  put  upon  me,  and  of  which  he  contentedly  bore  his  fhare  for  fixteen  or  fevcBteen  years, 
made  me  go  on  fo  long  with  Mr.  Johnfon  ;  but  the  perpetual  confinement,  I  will  own  to  have  been 
terrifying  in  the  firft  years  of  our  friendfhip,  and  irkfor.ie  in  the  laft ;  nor  would  I  pretend  t» 
fupport  it  without  help,  when  my  coadjutor  was  no  more." 

A  friendly  correfpondence  continued,  however,  between  Johnfon  and  Mrs.  Thrale,  without  in 
terruption,  till  the  Summer  following,  when  flie  retired  to  Bath,  and  informed  him,  that  fhe  was 
going  to  difpofe  of  herfelf  in  marriage,  to  Signior  Piozzi,  an  Italian  mufic  mafter.  Johnfon,  in 
his  relation  of  executor  to  her  hufband,  as  alfo  in  gratitude  to  his  memory,  was  under  an  obliga 
tion  to  promote  the  welfare  of  his  family.  He  endeavoured,  therefore,  by  prudent  counfels  and 
friendly  admonition,  to  prevent  that  which  he  thought  one  of  the  greateft  evils  which  could  befal 
the  children  of  his  friend,  the  alienation  of  the  affections  of  their  mother.  "The  anfwer  to  his 
friendly  monition,"  fays  Sir  John  Hawkins,  "  I  have  feen  ;  it  is  written  from  Bath,  and  contains  an 
indignant  vindication,  as  jwell  of  her  conduct  as  her  fame,  an  inhibition  of  Johnfcn  from  following 

her  to  Bath,  and  a  farewell,  concluding,  "  Till  you  have  changed  your  opinion  of ,  let 

ys  converfe  no  more."  In  his  laft  letter,  8th  July  1784,  directed  to  Mrs.  Piozzi,  who  then  had  an 
nounced  her  marriage  to  him  :  "  he  fays,  "  I  breathe  out  one  figh  more  of  tendernefs,  perhaps  ufe- 
lefs,  but  at  leaft  fincere."  He  gives  her  his  beft  advice,  and  adds,  "  the  tears  ftand  in  my  eyes." 

Excluded  from  the  dwelling  and  family  of  his  friend,  he  was  compelled  to  return  to  his  own  houfe, 
to  fpend  cheerlefs  hours  among  the  objects  of  his  bounty,  when  increafing  age  and  infirmities  had 
made  their  company  more  obnoxious  than  when  he  left  them,  and  the  fociety  of  which  he  had 
been  recently  deprived,  rendered  him,  by  companion,  lefs  patient  to  endure  it. 

From. this  time,  the  narrative  of  his  life  is  little  more  than  a  recital  of  the  preffures  of  melancho- 
Jy  and  difeafe,  and  of  numberlefs  excnrfions,  taken  to  calm  his  anxiety,  and  footh  his  apprehenfions 
«f  the  terrors  of  death,  by  flyirg,  as  it  Tvere,  from  hiaafclf.  He  yras  BOW  doomed  to  feel  all  thofe 


tio  THELIFFOFJOHNSON. 

calamities  incident  to  length  of  days,  which  he  had  fo  eloquently  enumerated  in  his  Faulty  of  Hu 


On  the  i  /th  of  June  1  783,  he  was  afflicted  with  a  paralytic  ftroke,  which  deprived  him  of  fpeech; 
from  which,  however,  he  gradually  recovered  ;  fo  that  in  July  he  was  able  to  make  a  vifit  to  Mr. 
Langton,  at  Rochefter  ;  and  made  little  excurfions,  as  eafily  as  at  any  time  of  his  life.  ' 

In  September,  while  he  was  on  a  vifit  at  Heale,  the  feat  of  Mr.  Bowles,  in  Wiltfhire,  he  loft 
Mrs.  Williams,  whofe  death  he  lamented  with  all  the  tendernefs  which  a  long  connection  naturally 
infpires.  This  was  another  fhock  to  a  mind  like  his,  ever  agitated  with  the  dread  of  his  own  diffo- 
1  tit  ion. 

Ik  fides  the  palfy,  he  was  all  this  year  afflicted  with  the  gout,  as  well  as  with  a  farcottle,  which 
he  bore  with  uncommon  firmnefs. 

In  December,  he  fought  a  weak  refuge  from  anxiety,  in  the  inftitution  of  a  weekly  club,  at  the 
Eflex  Head,  in  EiT;x  Street,  then  kept  by  an  old  fervant  of  Mr.  Thrale's  ;  but  the  amufement 
which  he  promifed  himfelf  from  this  inftitution,  was  but  of  ftiort  duration. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1784,  he  was  feized  with  a  fpafmodic  afthma,  which  was  foon  ac 
companied  by  fome  degree  of  dropfy.  From  the  latter  of  thefe  complaints,  however,  he  was  great 
ly  rt-lieved  by  a  courfe  of  medicine. 

The  interval  of  convalefcence,  which  he  enjoyed  during  the  Summer,  induced  him  to  ex- 
prefs  a  wifli  to  viCt  Italy.  Upon  this  fubjecl^however,  his  wifhes  had  been  anticipated  by  the  anx 
iety  of  his  friends  to  preferve  his  health.  His  penfion  not  being  deemed  by  them  adequate  to  fup- 
port  the  espence  of  the  journey,  application  was  made  to  the  minifter,  by  Mr.  Bofwell  and  Sir  Jo- 
ihua  Reynolds,  unknown  to  Johnfon,  through  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow,  for  an  augmentation  of 
it,  Tby  200  1.  The  application  was  unfuccefsful  ;  but  the  Chancellor,  in  the  handfomeft  manner  offered 
to  let  him  have  jco  I.  from  his  own  purfe,  under  the  appellation  of  a  loan,  but  with  the  intention 
of  conferring  it  as  a  prefenr.  It  is  alfo  to  be  recorded  to  the  honour  of  Dr.  Brocklefby,  that  he 
offered  to  contribute  f©ol.  per  annum,  during  his  refidence  abroad.  Johnfon,  however,  declined  both 
thcfe  offers,  with  a  gratitude  and  dignity  of  fentiment,  rifing  almoft  to  an  equal  elevation  with  the 
generofity  of  Lord  Thurlow,  and  Dr.  Brocklefby  ;  and,  indeed,  he  was  now  approaching  faft  to  a 
llate  in  which  money  could  be  of  no  avail. 

In  the  beginning  of  July,  he  fct  out  on  a  vifit  to  Dr.  Taylor,  at  Afhbourn  in  Dcrbyftiire,  where 
his  complaints  appear  to  have  met  with  but  little  alleviation.  From  Derbyfhire  he  proceeded  to 
Litchfield,  to  take  a  hft  view  of  his  native  city.  After  leaving  Litchfield,  he  vifued  Birmingham 
and  Oxford,  and  arrived  in  London  on  the  i6th  of  November. 

The  fine  ami  firm  feelings  cf  friendfnip  which  occupied  fo  large  a  portion  of  Johnfon  Vheart,  were 
eminently  difplayed,  in  the  many  tender  interviews  which  took  place  between  him  and  his  friends 
in  the  country,  during  his  excurfion  into  the  North  :  an  cxcurfion  which  feems  to  have  been  under 
taken  rather  from  a  fenfs  of  his  approaching  diffu'.ution,  and  a  warm  wi(h  to  bidthofe  he  loved  a 
laft  and  long  farewell,  than  from  any  rational  hope  that  air  and  exercife  would  icftore  him  to  hi& 
former  health  and  vigour. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  London,  both  the  afthma  and  dropfy  became  more  violent  and  diftrefs- 
ful.  Eternity  prefented  to  his  imagination  an  awful  profpeift,  and  with  as  much  virtue  as  in  ge 
neral  is  the  lot  of  man,  he  fhuddered  at  the  approach  of  his  diflblution.  He  felt  ftreng  perturba 
tions  of  mind.  His-  friends  endeavoured  all  in  their  power  to  awaken  the  comfortable  reflexions 
cf  a  life  well-fpsnt.  Th'jy  prayed  with  him,  and  Johnfon  poured  out  occafionally  the  warmeft  ef- 
fufions  of  piety  and  devotion. 

He  had  for  fome  time  kept  a  journal  in  Latin  of  the  flate  of  his  illnefs,  and  the  remedies  which 
he  ufed,  under  the  title  of  Mgrl  Epbtmirls,  which  he  began  on  the  6th  July,  but  continued  it  no 
longer  than  the  8th  November,  finding,  perhaps,  that  it  was  a  mournful  and  unavailing  regifter. 

His  attention  to  the  caufe  of  literature  was  evfhccd,  among  other  circumflancef,  by  his  commu 
nicating  to  Mr-  Nichols  a  lift  of  the  original  authors  of"  The  Univcrfal  Hiflory,"  mentioning  their 
feveral  fhares  in  that  work.  It  has,  according  to  his  direction,  been  depofited  in  the  "  Britifil 
Mufeum,"  and  js  printed  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  December  1784.  His  integrity  was 
evinced,  by  paying  a  fmall  debt  to  Mr.  Faden,  which  hs  had  borrowed  of  his  father,  and  a  larger 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  Jrr 

one  to  Mr.  Hamilton.     But  the  qucfli.m  will  recur,  why  were  thefe  debts  fo  long  fuffered  to  re- 
remain  ?  for  we  cannot  fuppole  that  his  mind  was  fuddenly  enlightened,  and  his  memory  renovated. 

During  hi?  fleeplefs  nights  alf->,  he  aniufed  himfelf  by  tranflating  into  .Latin  verfe,  from  the  Greek, 
many  of  the  Epigram  in  the  Antbologia. 

The  fenfe  of  his  fituatioo  predominated,  and  "  his  affcclion  for  his  departed  relations,"  fays  Mr. 
Bofwell,  "  feemcd  to  grow  warmer  as  he  approached  nearer  to  the  time  when  he  might  hope  to  fee 
them  again."  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Green,  at  LitchSeld,  ad  December  1784,  he  inclofed  the  Epitaph 
on  his  father,  mother,  and  brother,  and  ordered  it  to  be  engraved  on  a  ftone,  "  deep,  maffy,  and 
hard,"  and  laid  on  "  the  exact  place  of  interment,"  in  the  middle  aifle  of  St.  Michael's  church.  In 
the  Summer  he  laid  a  ftone  with  a  Latin  EAitifb  over  his  wife  in  the  chapel  of  Bromley,  in  Kent. 

During  his  illnefs  he  experienced  the  fteady  and  kind  attachment  cf  his  numerous  friends.  No 
body  was  more  attentive  to  him  than  Mr.  Langton,  to  whom  he  tenderly  faid,  Te  ttneam  aioritnt 
dtjitunte  manu.  Dr.  Heberden,  Dr.  Brocklefby,  Dr.  Warrtn,  Dr.  Butter,  and  Mr.  Cruikfhank,  gene- 
roufly  attended  him  without  accepting  any  fees;  and  all  that  could  be  done  from  profeffional  {kill 
,and  ability,  was  done,  to  prolong  a  lile  fo  truly  valuable.  But  his  conftitution  was  decayed  beyond 
the  reftorative  powers  of  the  medical  art.  Unfortunately  for  him,  he  himfelf  had  a  fmattering  of 
the  medical  fcience  ;  and  imagining  that  the  dropfical  collection  of  water  which  oppreffed  him, 
might  be  drawn  off,  by  making  incifions  in  the  calves  of  his  legs,  with  his  ufual  defiance  of  pain, 
cut  deep,  when  he  thought  Mr.  Cruickfhank  had  done  it  too  tenderly.  An  effufion  of  blood  fol 
lowed,  which  brought  on  a  dozing.  Previous  to  his  difiblution,-  he  burnt  indifcriminately  large 
maffes  of  papers,  and  among  others,  two  quarto  volumes,  "  containing  a  full  and  moft  particular 
Account  of  his  own  Life,"  the  lofs  of  which  is  much  to  be  regretted.  The  laft  days  of  this  great 
man's  exiftence  appear  to  have  been  unclouded  by  the  gloomy  apprehenfions  which  he  had  for 
merly  entertained.  Full  of  reCgnation,  flrengtheaed  in  faith,  and  joyful  in  hope,  on  the  1 3th  of 
December,  in  the  evening,  being  in  the  7jth  year  of  his  age,  he  refigned  his  breath  with  fo  much 
compofure,  that  his  death  was  only  known  by  the  ceafing  of  his  refpiration,  which  had  been*ren- 
dered  difficult  by  debility  and  afthma.  He  was  buried  in  Weflminfter- Abbey,  near  the  foot  «f 
Shakfpeare's  monument,  and  clofe  to  the  coffin  of  his  friend  Garrick.  His  funeral  was  attended 
by  a  refpeflable  number  of  his  friends ;  particularly  by  many  of  the  members  of  the  LJTERART 
CLUB,  who  were  then  in  town,  and  feveral  of  the  reverend  chapter  of  Weftminfter.  His  fchool- 
fellow  and  friend,  Dr.  Taylor,  read  the  funeral  fervice.  Agreeable  to  his  own  requeft,  a  large 
Hue  flag- ftone  was  placed  over  his  grave,  with  this  infcription: 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  LL.  D. 

Obiit  mi  die  Decembris 

Anno  Domini 

M  BCC  LXXXV. 

./Etatis  fua:  LXXV. 

A  monument  for  Johnfon,  in  the  Cathedral  church  of  St.  Paul's,  in  conjunction  with  the  illuf- 
itrious  Howard,  was  refolved  upon,  with  the  approbation/of  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  in  1789,  and 
has  been  fupported  by  a  moft  refpectable  contribution.  It  is  in  fuch  forwardnefs,  that  it  is  expec 
ted  ti>  be  opened  in  October  1*95. 

Having  no  near  relations,  he  left  the  bulk  of  his  property,  amounting  to  1500  1.  to  his  faithful 
fervant,  Francis  Barber,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  particularly  under  his  protection,  and  whom  he 
had  all  along  treated  as  an  humble  friend.  He  appointed  Sir  Jofhua  Reynolds,  Sir  John  Hawkins, 
and  Dr.  (now  Sir)  William  Scott,  his  executors. 

His  death  attracted  the  public  attention  in  an  uncommon  degree,  and  was  followed  by  an  un 
precedented  accumulation  of  literary  honours,  in  the  vaaious  forms  of  Sermon?,  Elegies,  Memoirs, 
Lives,  Lffays,  and  Anecdotes.  A  fermon  on  that  event  was  preached  before  the  Univerfity  of  Ox 
ford,  by  Mr.  Augutter ;  and  Dr  Fordyce,  in  his  "  Addreffes  to  the  Deity,"  I2mo,  1785  ;  and  an 
"  Epitaph  "printed  in  the"  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  1785,  paid  an  elegant  and  affectionate  tribute 
to  hi,  memory.  The  "  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  by  Samuel  Hobhoufe,  Efq.  410, 1785, 
was  diltinguilhed  from  the  mafs  of  elegiac  verfes  on  that  occafion  ;  and  the  juft,  difcriminative,  and 
.elegant  "  Poetical  Review  of  ths  Mcral  and  Literary  Character  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  by  John  Cour- 


Sia  THELIFEOFJOHNSON. 

tenay,  Efq.  M.  P.  /j.to.  i;  88,  was  perufed  with  avidiry  by  the  admirers  of  wit  and  learning,  and  the 
real  friend  cf  virtue  and  liberty.  His  conduct  and  genius  were  examined  and  illuftrated  in  the  rapid 
"  Biographical  Sketch  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  by  Thomas  Tyers,  Efq.  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine" 
for  1784;  the  fprightly  and  entertaining  "  Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  by  Mrs.  Piozzi,  8vo 
1785  ;  the  candid  and  judicious  "  Eflay  on  the  Life,  Character,  and  Writings  of  Dr  Johnfon,"  by 
Jofcph  Towers,  LL.  D.  SSvo,  1786;  and  the  inftructive  and  interefling  "  Life  of  Samuel  John 
fon  LL.  D."  by  James  Bofwell,  Efq.  a  vols,  410,  1791,  which  are  fufficiently  known  to  the  world. 

His  Worts  were  collected  and  publifhed  by  Sir  J.->hn  Hawkins,  with  his  "  Life,"  in  eleven  volumes, 
1787.  In  this  edition,  the  Lives  of  the  Poett  are  placed  firft,  and  feveral  pieces  are  attributed  to 
Johnfon  without  foundation.  In  the  "  Life"  too  much  foreign  matter  is  intermixed,  and  Johnfon 
himfelf  is  fcarcely  vifible  in  the  mafs.  A  new  edition  was  publifhed  in  iz  vols,  8vo,  1794,  with  an 
"  Eflay  on  his  Life  and  Genius,"  by  Arthur  Murphy,  Efq.  the  former  "  Life"  being  thought  too 
unwieldy  for  republication.  In  this  edition,  the  order  obferved  in  the  former  edition  is  inverted, 
and  the  feveral  pieces  are  chronologically  arranged,  omitting  thofe  attributed  to  him  without  foun 
dation.  Some  of  his  Prayers  are  printed,  and  feveral  of  his  Letters  added  to  the  lath  volume.  Mr. 
Murphy  has  no  new  facts  to  embellifli  his  work,  but  the  talk  which  has  been  left  him,  of  giving 
a  fhorr,  yet  full,  a  faithful,  yet  temperate  hiftory  of  Johnfon,  has  been  ably  executed.  In  the  fuc- 
cinct  review  of  his  writings,  Mr.  Murphy  difplays  his  own  learning,  judgment,  and  tafte.  His  Pray 
ers  and  Meditations  were  puhliihed,  from  his  manufcripts,  by  George  Strahan,  A.  M.  vicar  of  If- 
iington,  in  Svo,  1785-  Letters  te  and  fiom  Samuel  Jobnfon,  LL.  D.  were  publiflied  by  Mrs.  Pioz- 
zi,  in  z  vols,  8vo,  1788.  The  Sermons,  8vo,  1790,  left  for  publication,  by  Dr.  Taylor,  were  un- 
•queftionably  Johnfon's  ;  and  the  fact  is  now  afcertained  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Hayes,  the  edi 
tor.  An  imperfect  collection  of  his  poems  was  publiftied  by  Kearfley,  in  izmo,  1785;  and  infert- 
cd,  with  confiderabk  additions,  in  the  edition  of"  The  Works  of  the  Englifli  Poets,"  1790.  They 
are  reprinted  in  the  prefent  collection,  together  with  the  tragedy  of  Irene,  and  feveral  additional 
piects  collected  from  Mr.  Bofwell's  "  Life  of  Johnfon,"  and  other  publications. 

The  religious,  moral,  political,  and  literary  character  of  Johnfon  will  be  better  understood  by 
this  account  of  his  life,  than  by  any  laboured  and  critical  comments.  Yet  it  may  not  be  fuper- 
fluous  here  to  attempt  to  collect,  into  .one  view,  his  moft  prominent  excellencies  and  diftinguifliing 
particularities. 

His  figure  and  manner  are  more  generally  known  than  thofe  of  almoft  any  other  man.  His  perfon 
•was  large,  robuft,  and  unwieldy  from  corpulency.  His  carriage  was  disfigured  byfudden  emotions, 
which  appeared  to  a  common  obferver  to  be  involuntary  and  convulfive.  But  in  the  opinion  of  Sir 
Jofhua  Reynolds,  they  were  the  confequence  of  a  depraved  habit  of  accompanying  his  thoughtt 
with  certain  untoward  actions,  which  feemed  as  if  they  were  meant  to  reprobate  fome  part  of  his 
pad  conduct.  Of  his  limbs,  he  is  faid  never  to  have  enjoyed  the  free  and  vigorous  ufe.  When  he  walk 
ed,  it  feemed  the  ftniggling  gait  of  one  in  fetters ;  and  when  he  rode,  he  appeared  to  have  nd  com 
mand  over  his  horfe.  His  ftrength,  however,  was  great,  and  hisperfonal  courage  no  lefsfo.  Among 
other  inftances,  which  exemplify  his  pofTc.-ffion  of  both,  it  is  related,  that,  being  once  at  the  Litch- 
field  theatre,  he  fat  upon  a  chair  placed  for  him  befide  the  fcenes.  Having  had  occafion  to  quit  his 
feat,  he  found  it  occupied,  upon  his  return,  by  an  innkeeper  of  the  town.  He  civilly  demanded 
that  it  fhould  be  reftored  to  him,  but  meeting  with  a  rude  refufal,  he  laid  hold  of  the  chair,  and 
with  it,  of  the  intruder,  and  flung  them  both,  without  further  ceremony,  into  the  pit.  At  another 
time,  having  ecgaged  in  a  fcuffle  with  four  men  in  the  ftreet,  he  refolutely  refufed  to  yield  to  fu- 
jierior  numbers,  and  kept  them  all  at  bay,  until  the  watch  came  up  and  carried  him  and  his  anta- 
j;onifts  to  the  watch  houfe.  In  his  drefs  he  was  fingular  and  flovenly,  and  though  he  improved 
ibmewhat  under  the  lectures  cf  Mrs.  Thrdte,  during  his  long  refidence  at  Streatham,  yet  he  was 
never  able  completely  to  furmourtt  particularity.  He  never  wore  a  watch  till  he  was  Cxty  years  of 
age,  and  then  caufed  one  to  be  made  for  him  by  Mudge  and  Dutton,  which  coft  him  feventeen  gui 
neas,  with  this  infcription  on  the  dial  plate  "  for  the  night  cometh."  He  was  fond  of  good  company, 
and  of  good  living  ;  and  to  the  laft,  he  knew  of  no  method  of  regulating  his  appetites,  but  abfolute 
reftraint  or  unlimited  indulgence.  "  Many  a  day,"  fays  Mr.  Bofwell,  "  did  he  faft,  many  a  year  re 
frain  from  wine ;  but  when  he  did  eat,  it  was  voracioufly .  When  he  did  drink  wine,  it  was  copiouflr. 


THE  LIFE   OF   JOHNSON.  $rj 

He  could  frafiife  alftinence,  lut  n<<t  temperance."  In  convcrfation,  he  was  rude,  intemperate  over 
bearing,  and  impatient  of  contradiction.  Addicted  to  argument,  and  greedy  of  victory,  he  wag 
equally  regardlefs  of  truth  and  i'air  reafoning  in  his  approaches  to  conqueft.  "  There  is  no  argu 
ing  with  him,"  faid  Goldfmith,  alluding  to  a  fpeech  in  one  of  Cibber's  plays,  "  for  if  his  piftol 
mifle?  fire,  he  knocks  you  down  with  the  butt  end  of  it."  In  the  early  part  of  his  life,  he  had  beeo 
too  much  depreffed  ;  in  his  latter  years,  too  laviftily  indulged.  His  temper  had  at  firft  been  four- 
ed  by  difappointment  and  penury,  and  his  petulance  was  afterwards  flattered  by  univerfal  fub- 
miflion.  In  his  converfation  and  gbodnefs  of  heart,  his  friends  met  with  a  recompenfe  for  that  fub- 
miffion  which  the  Sovereignty  of  his  genius  challenged,  and  his  temper  exacted  from  them  to  the  ut- 
termoft.  To  great  powers,  he  united  a  perpetual  and  ardent  defire  to  excel ;  and  even  in  an  ar 
gument  on  the  moft  indifferent  fubject,  he  generally  engaged  with  the  whole  force  and  energy  of 
his  great  abilities.  Of  his  converfation,  it  is  true,  all  that  has  been  retained  by  Mr.  Bofwell  does 
not  feem  to  be  worth  recording.  Judging  of  it  moft  favourably,  it  is  not  much  diftinguiflied  by 
the  fiafhes  of  wit,  or  the  ftrokes  of  humour.  Where  he  appears  ferious,  we  are  net  always  fure 
that  he  fpeaks  the  fentlments  of  his  conviction.  Mr.  Bofwell  allows  that  he  often  talked  for  victory 
and  fometimes  took  up  the  weaker  fide,  as  the  moft  ingenious  things  would  be  faid  on  it.  Truth 
and  the  ableft  defences  of  truth,  are  mixed  with  error,  and  the  moft  ingenious  glcffes  which  inge 
nuity  could  invent,  or  addrefs  enforce.  Authors  are  exalted,  or  depreciated,  as  the. moment  of  hi 
larity  or  gloom  was  connected  with  the  fnbject,  er  as  the  opinion  of  the  fpeaker  was  adverfe  and 
the  whole  is  given  as  the  fentiment  of  Johnfon.  But  for  the  inferiority  of  his  converfation,  to  our  opi 
nion  of  the  man,  he  has  himfelf  made  a  prophetic  apology,  in  his  firft  interview  with  his  biographer 
who  was  deftined  to  retail  it.  "  People  may  be  taken  in  once,  who  imagine  that  an  author  is  greater 
in  private  life  than  another  man.  Uncommon  parts  require  uncommon  opportunities  for  their 
exertions." 

With  thefe  defects,  there  xvas,  however,  fcarcely  a  virtue  of. which  he  was  not  in  prin 
ciple  pofleffed.  He  was  humane,  charitable,  affectionate,  and  generous.  His  moft  intempe 
rate  failies  were  the  effc&s  of  an  irritable  habit ;  he  offended  only  to  repent.  To  the  warm  and 
active  benevolence  of  his  heart,  all  his  friends  have  borne  teftimony.  "  He  had  nothing  "  fayg 
Goldfmith,  "  of  the  bear  but  his  (kin."  Misfortune  had  only  to  form  her  claim,  in  order  to  found 
her  right  to  the  ufeof  his  purfe,  or  the  exercife  of  his  talents.  His  houfe  was  an  afylum  for  the  unhap 
py,  beyond  what  a  regard  to  perfonal  convenience  would  have  allowed  ;  and  his  income  was  dif- 
tributed  in  the  fupport  of  his  inmates,  to  an  extent  greater  than  general  prudence  would  have 
permitted.  The  moft  honourable  teftimony  to  his  moral  and  focial  character,  is  the  cordial  efteem 
of  his  friends  and  acquaintances.  He  was  known  by  no  man  by  whom  his  lofs  was  not  regretted. 
Another  great  feature  of  his  mind,  was  the  love  of  independence.  While  he  felt  the  ftrergth  of 
his  own  powers,  he  defpifed,  except  in  one  inftance,  pecuniary  aid.  His  penfion  has  been  often 
mentioned,  and  fubjeded  kirn  to  fevere  imputations.  But  let  thofe,  who,  like  Johnfon,  had  no  pa 
trimony,  who  were  not  always  willing  to  labour,  and  felt  the  conftant  recurrence  of  necefiities,  re 
ject,  without  an  adequate  reafon,  an  independent  income,  which  left  his  fentiments  free,  and  re 
quired  neither  the  fervility  of  adulation,  nor  the  labours  of  fervice.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  fee  a 
defire  to  be  independent,  degenerate  into  avarice.  Johnfon  did  not  feel  it  early,  for  his  benevolence 
counteracted  it;  but  he  declined  going  to  Italy  when  worth  1500  1.  befides  his  penfion,  becaufe  of  the 
expence  •,  and  we  fee  the  furly  dignity,  which  formerly  fpurned  at  an  obligation,  relaxed  in  his  refufal  of 
Dr.  Brocklefby's  afliftance,  and  Lord  Thurlow's  very  delicate  offer  of  the  fame  kind.  Some  little  cen- 
fure  is  due  to  him  for  his  eafy  faith,  occafioned  by  his  political  prejudices,  in  the  forgeries  of  Lauder. 
That  he  fhould  have  appeared  in  public,  in  company  with  this  defamer  of  Milton,  is  to  be  lamented. 
"Yet  his  renunciation  of  all  connection  with  Lauder,  when  his  forgeries  were  detefted,  is  only  a 
proof  of  his  having  believed  (a  common  weaknefs  of  worthy  minds),  without  examination,  not  that 
he  was  an  accomplice  with  the  impoftor. 

If  there  is  any  one  trait  by  which  Johnfon's  mind  can  be  difcriminated,  it  is  gigantic  vigour.  In 
information  and  tafte  he  was  excelled;  but  what  he  ferioufly  attempted,  he  executed  with  that 
mafterly  original  boldnefc,  which  leaves  us  to  regret  his  indolence,  that  he  exerted  himfelf  only  ia 


Si4  THE   LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

the  moment  when  his  powers  were  wanting,  and  relapfed  again  into  his  literary  idlenefs.  Hrf 
united  in  himfelf  what  feldom  are  united,  a  vigorous  and  excurfive  imagination,  with  a 
flrong  and  fteady  judgment  His  memory  was  remarkably  tenacious,  and  his  apprehenfion 
wonderfully  quick  and  accurate.  He  was  rather  a  man  of  learning  than  of  fcisnce.  He  had 
accumulated  a  vaft  fund  of  knowledge,  without  much  of  fyftem  or  methodical  arrangement.  Hi* 
reading  feems  to  have  been  cafua!,  generally  defultory.  To  converfauon  he  owed  much  of  his 
varied  knowledge,  and  to  his  vigorous  comprAenfive  powers,  he  was  indebted  for  that  clearncfs  of 
diftin&ion,  that  pointed  judicious  difcrimination,  which  elucidated  every  queftion,  and  aftonilhed 
every  hearer.  From  this  cafual  reading  he  rofe  with  a  mind  feldom  fatigued,  endowed  with  a  clear  accu 
rate  perception  ;  the  variety  of  his  ftudies  relieved,  without  fatiguing  or  perplexing  him  ;  the  ideas 
arranged  in  order,  were  ready  for  ufe,  adorned  with  all  the  energy  of  language,  and  the  force  of 
manner.  But  the  labour  of  literature  was  a  taflc  from  which  he  always  wiflied  to  efcape  ;  and  as  he 
could  excel  others  without  great  exertion,  we  feldom  perceive  his  faculties  brought  forward  in  their 
full  power.  We  fcarcely  fee  any  attempt,  beyond  a  periodical  paper,  which  he  did  not  profeffedly 
continue  with  laffitude  and  fatigue. 

He  deferves  the  character  of  mailer  of  the  Latin  language  ;  but  it  is  eafy  to  perceive  that  hit 
acquaintance  with  Greek  literature  was,  what  it  is  commonly  fuppofed  to  be,  general  and  fuperficial, 
rather  than  curious  or  profound.  Of  natural  fcience  he  knew  but  little ;  and  moft  of  his  notions  on 
that  branch  of  philofophy  were  obfolete  and  erroneous.  In  his  writings  he  appears  to  have  taken 
more  from  his  own  mind  than  from  books,  and  he  difplays  his  learning  rather  in  allufions  tb  the 
opinions  of  others,  than  in  the  dire#  ufe  of  them.  Hiftory  he  profeffed  to  difregard  ;  yet  his 
memory  was  fo  tenacious,  that  we  feldom  find  him  at  a  lofs  upon  any  topic,  ancient  or  modern. 

From  early  prejudices,  which  all  his  philofophy  and  learning  could  never  overcome,  he  was  a 
zealous  and  fcrupulous  high-church-man,  following  to  the  uctermoft  tenet,  the  notions  of  Laudt 
whofe  talents  he  has  praifed,  and  whofe  genius  he  has  deplored  in  his  Fanity  of  Human  Wifbes.  In 
his  political  fentiments,  he  was  a  rank  Tory,  and  till  his  prefent  Majeily's  accefiion  to  the  throne,  a 
•violent  Jacobite.  He  had  never  examined  either  his  religious  or  political  creed.  Bigotted  as  to  a 
particular  fyftem  of  politics,  he  appears  obftinately  to  have  clofed  his  eyes  again  ft  the  light  of  truth; 
and  fo  far  from  feeking  information  on  the  fubjedl,  ftudioufly  refifted  it.  His  piety  was  truly  vene 
rable  and  edifying.  In  divinity,  however,  his  refearches  were  limited.  He  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  general  evidences  of  Chriftianity ;  but  he  does  not  appear  to  have  read  his  Bible  with  a 
critical  eye,  nor  to  have  interefied  himfelf  concerning  the  elucidation  of  obfcure  or  difficult  paflages. 
It  was  his  favourite  maxim,"  that  the  proper  ftudy  of  mankind  is  man ;"  and  we  muft  cnnfefs  that 
in  all  the  departments  of  moral  fcience,  his  excellence  is  unrivalled.  His  acute  penetration  was  con- 
ftantly  alive  to  "  catch  the  manners  living  as  they  rife,"  and  but  few  follies  or  peculiarities  could 
efcape  his  observation. 

The  habitual  weakn*fi~es  of  his  mind  form  a  ftriking  and  melancholy  contraft  to  the  vigour  of 
his  underftanding.  His  opinions  were  tainted  with  prejudices  almoft  too  coarfe  and  childifli  for 
the  vulgar  to  imbibe.  His  attachment  to  the  univerfity  of  Oxford,  to  which  in  his  youth  he  owed 
no  great  obligations,  led  him  unjuflly  to  depreciate  the  merit  of  every  perfon  who  had  ftudied  at 
that  of  Cambridge.  His  averfion  to  Whigs,  Diflenters,  and  Prefbyterians,  and  his  diflike 
to  Scotland,  and  many  more  extravagancies  of  opinion,  that  it  would  be  painful  to  enumerate,  in 
flamed  his  converfation,  and  influenced  his  conduct.  He  was  fo  prone  to  fuperRition  as  to  make  it 
a  rule  that  a  particular  foot  fliould  conftantly  make  the  firft  adual  movement,  when  he  came  clofe 
to  the  threfliold  of  any  door  or  paffage,  which  he  was  about  to  enter,  or  to  quit.  So  deeply  was  he 
infected  upon  this  fubjed,  that  Mr  Bofwell  relates  that  he  has  often  feen  him  "  when  he  had  ne 
glected  or  gone  wrong  in  this  fort  of  magical  movement,  go  back  again,  put  himfelf  in  a  proper  pofture 
to  begin  the  ceremony,  and  havinggone  through  it,  break  from  his  abftradtion,  walk  brificly  en.  and  join 
his  companion."  He  took  off  his  hat  in  token  of  reverence,  when  he  approached  the  places  on  which 
Popifli  churches  had  formerly  flood  ;  aud  bowed  before  the  monaftic  veiliges.  He  was  felicitous  to  give 


THB    LIFE    OF   JOHNSON.  815 

authenticity  to  ftories  of  apparitions,  and  eager  to  credit  the  exigence  of  afecond-Gght,  while  he  ap 
peared  fcrupulous  and  fceptical  as  to  particular  fads.  Thefe  mental  diftempers  were  the  offspring  of  hi« 
melancholic  temperament,  and  were  foftered  by  folitary  contemplation,  till  they  had  laid  fetters  upon 
the  imagination  too  ftrong  for  reafon  to  bur  ft  through.  We  fee  it  exerted  in  different  circumftances, 
and  expanding  its  glodmy  influence,  till  at  laft  it  terminated  little  fliort  of  infinity.  To  this  ftatc 
we  muft  attribute  his  mentioning  fecret  tranfgrefiions,  his  conftant  fear  of  death,  and  his  religious 
terrors,  not  very  confiftent  with  his  ftrength  of  mind,  or  his  conviction  of  the  goodnefs  of  God.  This, 
at  leaft,  feems  to  have  been  his  own  opinion  of  the  progref*  of  thefe  difeafes,  as  appears  from  his 
hiftory  of  the  Mad  Aflrwomer  in  Ra/clat,  the  defcription  of  whofc  mind  he  feems  to  have  intended 
as  a  reprefentation  of  his  own. 

But  let  us  turn  from  thefe  foibles  and  Cngularities,  which  fliow  him  weaker  than  the  generality 
of  bi»  fellow  men,  and  point  to  thofe  perfections  of  mind  which  prove  him  to  have  been  of  a  rank 
fo  much  above  them. 

As  an  author,  Johnfon  has  diftinguifhed  himfelf  a»  a  plildogifl,  a  fagrafttr,  a  critic,  a  moralijl,  a 
navelijl,  a  ptlitical  -writer,  and  a  fait. 

On  his  LiSlionary  of  tic  Er.glifi  Language,  it  is  unnccefiary  to  enlarge.  It  is  in  every  body's  hands; 
its  utility  is  univerfally  acknowledged ;  and  its  popularity  is  its  beft  culogium.  The  etymologies, 
though  they  exhibit  learning  and  judgment,  are  not  entitled  to  unqualified  praife.  The  definition* 
exhibit  aftonifhing  proofs  of  acutcnefs  of  intellect,  and  precifion  of  language.  A  few  of  them  muft 
be  admitted  to  be  erroneous.  Thus,  Windivard  and  Leeward,  though  directly  of  oppofite  meaning, 
are  defined  identically  the  fame  way.  The  definition  of  Net-work  has  been  often  quoted  with 
fportive  malignity,  as  obfcuring  a  thing  in  itfclf  very  plain.  His  introducing  his  own  opinions, 
and  even  prejudices,  under  general  definitions  of  words,  as  Tery,  Whig,  Penjion,  Outt,  Exeife,  and 
a  few  more,  muft  be  placed  to  the  account  of  capricious  and  humourous  indulgence.  To  his  lift 
cf  technical  and  provincial  words,  nine  thoufand  have  been  added  by  Mr.  Herbert  Croft,  in  his 
"  Dictionary  of  the  Engliih  Language  ;"  the  publication  of  which  is  delayed  for  want  of  fuitable 
encouragement. 

As  a  tiografber,  his  merit  is  of  the  hlgheft  kind.  His  narration  in  general  is  vigorous,  con 
nected,  and  perfpicuous ;  and  his  reflections  numerous,  appofite,  and  moral.  But  it  muft  be  owned 
that  he  neither  dwells  with  pleafure  or  fuccefs  upon  thofe  minuter  anecdotes  of  life,  which  oftener 
Ihow  the  genuine  man,  than  actions  of  greater  importance.  Sometimes,  alfo,  his  colourings  receive 
a  tinge  from  prejudice,  and  his  judgment  is  infenfibly  warped  by  the  particularity  of  his  private  opi 
nion.  Thcfe  obfervations  apply  to  h,is  Lift  of  Savage,  the  moft  finifhcd  cf  his  biographical  difqui- 
fuions  ;  and  his  Lives  of  fevcral  other  eminent  men,  which  were  originally  printed  in  the  "  Gentle 
man's  Magazine,"  and  in  other  periodical  publications,  and  afterwards  collected  by  Mr.  Davies,  in 
his  "  Mifcellaneous  and  Fugitive  Pieces,"  and  to  his  Lives  cftLe  Totts. 

As  a  critic,  he  is  entitled  to  the  praife  cf  being  the  greateft  that  our  nation  has  produced.  He 
has  not,  like  his  predeceflbrs,  tried  merely  to  learn  the  art,  and  not  to  feel  it.  He  has  not  gone  to  Da- 
cier  or  to  Bofui,  to  borrow  rules  to  fetter,  genius  by  example,  and  impart  diftinctions  which  lead  to 
no  end,  but,  pofftffed  of  two  qualities,  without  which  a  critic  is  no  more  than  a  caviller,  ftrong 
feofe,  and  an  intimate  knowledge  of  human  nature,  he  has  followed  his  own  judgment,  unbiafied 
by  authority,  and  hag  adopted  all  the  good  fenfc  of  Ariftotle,  untrammelled  by  his  forms.  Thi» 
praife  he  has  merited  by  his  Preface  to  Slakfpcarc,  and  the  detached  pieces  of  criticifm  which  appear 
among  his  works.  But  his  critical  powers  fliine  with  more  concentratecnjpiance  in  the  Lives  of  tit 
Peets.  Thefe  compofitions,  abounding  in  ftrong  and  juft  illuftrations  of  criticifm,  evince  the  vigour 
of  his  mind,  and  that  happy  art  of  moralization,  by  which  he  gives  to  well-known  incidents, 
the  grace  of  novelty  and  the  force  of  inftruction  ;  and  "  grapples  the  attention,"  by  expreffing 
common  thoughts  with  uncommon  ftrength  and  elegance.  Of  many  paffages,  it  is  fcarcely  hyper 
bolical  to  affirm,  that  they  are  executed  with  all  the  {kill  and  penetration  of  Ariftotle,  and  animat 
ed  and  embellifhed  with  all  the  fire  of  Longinus.  The  Lives  of  Co-why,  Milton,  Lutler,  Waller, 
Drydtn,  Addifnnt  and  Pope,  are  elaborately  compofed,  and  exhibit  the  nobleft  fpecimens  of 
Satcrtaining  and  folid  criticifm,  that  ancient  or  modern  times  have  produced.  The  difiertation  In 

S 


Si6  THELIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

the  Life  of  Cewtcy,  on  the  mctaphyfical  poets  of  the  laft  century,  has  all  the  attra&ion  of  novelty, 
as  well  as  found  obfervation.  In  the  review  of  his  works,  falfe  wit  is  detected  in  all  its  ftiapes  ; 
and  the  Gothic  tafte  for  glittering  conceits,  and  far-fetched  allufions,  is  exploded,  never,  it  is  hoped, 
to  revive  again.  The  "  Paradife  Loft,"  is  a  poem  which  the  mind  of  Milton  only  could  have 
produced ;  the  criticifm  upon  it  is  fuch  as,  perhaps,  the  pen  of  Johnfon  only  could  have  written. 
His  eftimate  of  Dryden  and  P ope,  challenges  Quintilian's  remarks  upon  Demofthenes  and  Cicero, 
and  rivals  the  fined  fpecimens  of  elegant  compofuion,  and  critical  acutenefs  in  the  Englifh  lan 
guage.'  Some  caution,  however,  is  required  to  perufe  thefe  admirable  compofitions  with  advantage. 
The  prefent  writer  means  not  to  fay  that  they  are  perfect,  or  that,  on  the  whole,  they  are  exe 
cuted  with  propriety.  If  they  be  regarded  merely  as  containing  narrations  of\he  lives,  delineations 
of  the  characters,  and  ftrictures  of  the  feveral*authors,  they  are  far  from  being  always  to  be  depend 
ed  upon.  Johnfon,  as  he  has  had  occafion  to  remark,  in  reviewing  his  judgments  of  the  feveral  po 
ets  who  have  fallen  under  his  confideration,  brought  to  the  production  of  this  work  ideas  already 
formed,  opinions  tinctured  with  his  ufual  hues  of  party  and  prejudice,  and  the  rigid  unfeeling  phi- 
lofophy,  which  could  neither  bend  to  excufe  failings,  or  judge  of  what  was  not  capable  of  a  difpaf- 
Conate  difquifition. 

To  think  for  himfelf  in  critical,  as  in  all  other  matters,  is  a  privilege  to  which  every  one  is  un 
doubtedly  entitled.    This  prj'ilege  of  critical  independence,  an  affectation  of  fingularity,  or  fome 
other  principle  not  immediately  vifible,  is  frequently  betraying  into  a  dogmatical  fpirit  of  contradic 
tion  to  received  opinion.     Of  this  there  need  no  farther  proofs,  than  his  almoft  uniform  attempt  to 
depreciate  the  writers  of  blank  verfe,  and  his  degrading  eftimate  of  the  exquifite  compofitions  of 
Prior,  Hammond,  Collins,  Gray,  Shenftone,  and  Akenfide,  and  his  pronouncing  the  "  Paradife  Loft" 
"  one  of  thofe  books  which  the  reader  admires  and  lays  down,  and  forgets  to  take  it  up  again."  In  his 
judgments  of  thefe  poets,  he  may  be  juftly  accufed_  of  being  inflamed  by  prejudice,  refolutely  blind 
to  merit.     His  rigorous  condemnation,  and  puerile  criticifms  upon  Gray,  and  his  faftidious  judg 
ment  of  Shenftone,  have  drawn  down  upon  him  the  united  cenfures  *f  thofe  who  admire  poetry  in 
her  moft  daring  attitudes  and  gorgeous  attire,  and  thofe  who  kre  pleafed  with  her  modeft  beauties, 
moft  humble  fteps,  and  leaft  adorned  guife.     He  obferves  of  Shenftone,  that  he  fet  little  value  upon 
thofe  parts  of  knowledge  whjch  he  had  not  cultivated  himfelf.     His  own  tafte  of  poetry  feems  in 
fome  degree  regulated  by  a  fimilar  ftandard  ;  method,  ratiocination,  and  argument,  efpecially  if  the 
vehicle  be  rhyme,  often  obtaining  his  regard  and  commendation,  while  the  bold  and  enthufiaftic, 
though  perhaps  irregular  flights  of  imagination,  are  paft  by  with  obftinate  and  perverfe  indifference. 
It  is  not,  then,  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  panegyrift  of  Blackmore  fliould  withhold  from  Collins 
and  Gray  the  commendation  he  has  beftowed  on  Savage  and  Yalden ;  and  that  his  praifes  of  the  whole 
clafs  of  defcriptive  poets  are  parfimonioufly  beftowed,  and  too  frigid  to  make  an  impreffion.     This 
is  to  be  attributed  to  the  natural  turn  of  his  mind,  and  to  the  bent  which  his  feelings  had  received 
from  the  habits  of  his  life.     A  certain  inelegance  of  tafte,  a  frigid  churliflinefs  of  temper,  unfubdued 
and  unqualified  by  that  melting  fenubility,  that  divine  enthufiafm  of  foul,  which  are  effential  to  a 
hearty  relifli  of  poetical  compofition,  too  often  counteracted  and  corrupted  the  other  poetical  vir 
tues  of  his  intellect.     Poetry  pleafes  only  as  it  is  the  image  of  reality.    He  who  has  never  delighted 
jn  the  Clent  beauties  of  creation,  can  feel  no  emotions,  as  they  are  reflected  to  him  iu  defcription. 
Accuftomed  to  dogmatize  in  his  clofet,  and  fwelter  in  fome  alley  in  the  city,  Johnfon's  mind  never 
throbbed  with  poetic  thrills,  as  nature  expanded  her  rural  glories  to  his  eye ;    and  he  preferred  the 

duft  of  Fleet-Street,  or  the$w indhgs  of  the  Strand,  to  the  air  of  Hampftead,  or  the  beauties  of  Green- 

.  , 
wicb. 

One  general  remark  may  be  ventured  upon  here :  Through  the  whole  of  his  work,  the  defire  of 
praife,  except  in  the  cafe  of  fome  very  favourite  author,  is  almoft  always  overpowered  by  his  difpofi- 
tion  to  cenfure ;  and  while  beauties  are  pafled  over  "  with  the  neutrality  of  a  ftranger,  and  the  cold- 
nefs  of  a  critic,"  the  flighteft  blemifh  is  examined  with  microfcopical  fagacity.  The  truth  of  this 
obfervation  is  particularly  obvious,  when  he  ddcends  to  his  contemporaries,  for  whom  he  appears  to 
have  little  more  brotherly  kindaefs,  than  they  might  have  expected  at  Conftantinople.  The  prefcnt 
writer  isjinder  no  apprehenfion  of  being  charged  with  ao  unjuftifiable  partiality  in  this  opinion  of 

6 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  $17 

him,  by  thofe  who  know  his  difpofuion,  and  the  habits  of  his  life.  All  that  is  great  and  genuinely- 
good  in  Johnfon,  have  had  no  warmer  cncomiaft.  He  has  uniformly  praifcd  his  genius,  his  learn 
ing,  his  good  fenfe,  the  ftrength  of  his  reafoning-,  the  fagacity  of  his  critical  decifions,  the  happinefs 
of  his  illustrations,  and  the  animation  and  energy  of  his  ftyle.  He  lias  acknowledged  that  there  is  no 
faticty  in  the  delight  he  infpires  on  moral  and  religious  themes ;  and  he  makes  no  fcruple  to  declare 
that,  though  there  are  many  opinions  erroneous,  and  many  obfcrvations  improper,  a  great  part  of 
his  Lives  oftbt  Poctt  is  fuch  as  no  one  but  himfelf  could  have  executed,  and  in  which  he  will  not  be 
followed  with  fuccefs. 

As  a  ntoralf/J,  his  periodical  papers  are  diflinguiftied  from  thofe  of  other  writers,  who  have  de 
rived  celebrity  from  fiiwilar  publications.  He  has  neither  the  wit  nor  the  graceful  eafe  of  Addi- 
fon,  nor  does  he  (hine  with  the  humour  and  claflic  fuavity  of  Goldfmith.  His  power*  are  of  a  more 
grave,  energic,  and  dignified  kind,  than  any  of  his  competitors,  and  if  he  entertain?  us  kf<,  he  in. 
ftru&s  us  more.  He  (hows  himfelf  mafter  of  all  the  recedes  of  the  human  mind,  able  to  deteitt  vicea 
when  difguifed  in  her  moft  fpecious  form,  and  equally  poffeffcd  of  a  corroftve  to  r  radicate,  or  a  le- 
ziitive  to  alTuage  the  follies  and  forrows  of  the  heart.  Virtuous  in  his  objedt,  juft  in  his  conceptions, 
ftrong  in  his  arguments,  and  powerful  in  his  exhortations,  he  arrefts  the  attention  of  levity  by  the 
luxuriance  of  his  imagery,  and  grandiloquence  of  his  diction  ;  while  he  awes  detected  guilt  mto 
iubmiiTion  by  the  majefty  ef  his  declamation,  and  the  fterling  weight  of  his  opinions  But  his  ge 
nius  is  only  formed  to  chaftife  graver  faults,  which  require  to  be  touched  with  an  heavier  hand  He 
could  not  chafe  away  fuch  lighter  foibles  as  buzz  in  our  ears  in  fociety,  and  fret  the  feelings  of  our 
lef>  important  hours.  His  gigantic  powers  were  able  to  prepare  the  immortal  path  to  heaven,  but 
could  not  (loop  to  decorate  our  manners  with  thefc  lefler  graces,  which  make  life  amiable.  Joh:*f  n, 
at  fuch  a  taflc,  was  Hercules  at  the  diftaff,  a  lion  courting  of  a  moufe,  or  an  eagle  (to  ping  at  a  fly; 
He  was  formed  to  fuftain  the  character  of  a  mnjeftic  teacher  of  moral  and  religious  wifdoin.  His 
Rambler  furnifhes  fuch  an  affemblage  of  difcourfes  on  practical  religion  and  moral  duty,  of  critical 
invalidations,  and  allegorical  and  oriental  tales,  that  no  mind  can  be  thought  very  deficient,  that  has 
by  conftant  ftudy  and  meditation  affimilated  to  irfirlf  all  that  may  be  found  there.  Though  inllruc- 
tion  be  its  predominant  purpofe,  yet  it  is  enlivened  with  a  confiderable  portion  of  amufement.  N"S. 
19,  44,  8t,  8$,  179,  181,  194, 195, 197,  and  198,  may  be  appealed  to  for  inftances  of  fertility  ot 
fancy,  and  accurate  defcription  of  real  life.  Every  page  of  the  Rambler  (hows  a  mind  teeming  with 
cla»»ical  allufion  and  poetical  imagery;  iliuftrations  from  other  writers,  are  upon  ill  occafions  io  rea 
dy,  and  mingle  f«  eafily  in  his  periods,  that  the  whole  appears  of  one  uniform  vivid  texture.  The 
ferious  papers  in  his  Mtr,  though  inferior  to  thofe  in  the  Rambler,  in  fublimity  and  fplendor,  are 
diftinguifted  by  the  fame  dignified  morality  and  folemn  philofophy,  and  lead  to  the  fame  great  end 
of  dilfufing  wifdom,  virtue,  and  happinefs.  The  humourous  paper*  are  light  and  lively,  and  more 
in  the  manner  of  Addifon. 

As  a  naveli/l,  the  amazing  powers  of  his  imagination,  and  his  unbounded  knowledge  nf  men 
and  manners,  may  be  plainly  traced  in  the  oriental  taltt  in  the  Rambltr,  in  which  he  has  not  only 
fupported  to  the  utmoft,  the  fublimity  of  the  eaftern  manner  of  expreffion,  but  even  greatly  ex 
celled  any  of  the  oriental  writers,  in  the  fertility  of  his  invention,  the  condud  of  his  plots,  and 
the  juftnefs  and  ftrength  of  his  fentiments.  His  capital  work  of  that  kind  is  his  Rjffelm.  .None  of 
his  writings  have  been  fo  extenfively  diffufed  over  Europe.  Such  a  reception  demonftrates  great 
beau'.ies  in  the  work;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  great  beauties  do  exift  there.  The  languaga 
enchants  us  with  harmony ;  the  arguments  are  acute  and  ingenious  ;  the  reflections  novel,  yet  juft.  It 
aftonifties  with  the  fublimity  of  its  fentiments,  and  at  the  fertility  of  its  illuftrations,  and  delights 
with  the  abundance  and  propriety  of  its  imagery.  The  fund  of  thinking  which  it  contains,  is  fuch, 
that  almoft  every  fentence  of  it  may  furnifh  a  fuhjetf  of  long  meditation.  But  it  is  not  without 
its  faults.  It  is  barren  of  interefting  incidents,  anrt  deftifute  of  originality,  or  diftiLflion  of  cha 
racters.  There  is  little  difference  in  the  manner  of  thinking  and  reafoning  of  the  philofopher  and 
the  female,  cf  the  prince  and  the  waiting  woman.  Nebagab  and  Jtxlac,  Ra/dat  and  rebuab,  arc 
all  equally  argumentative,  *bftraftc<J,  eloquent,  and  oblate.  Of  that  dark  catalog  of  «a* 

Vol.  Xf.  2  F 


*tS  THELIFEOFJOHNSON. 

lamitics,  which  are  defcrlbed  as  incident  to  tke  fevcral  fituations  of  life  which  he  contemplates, 
Come  are  not  the  neceflary  confequence  of  the  fituation,  but  of  the  temper :  and  others  are  not 
thofe  which  are  moft  generally  or  feverely  felt  there  The  moral  that  he  feeks  to  inculcate,  that  there 
is  no  fuch  thing  a*  happinefs,  is  one  ungrateful  to  the  human  heart  If  he  could  fucceed  in  efta- 
blifhing  it,  it  would  cripple  every  incitement  to  virtue,  and  palfy  every  ftimulus  to  action.  It 
would  lea^e  man  contented  to  be  drifted  down  the  flrcam  of  life,  without  an  object  or  an  end  ;  to 
lofe  artainable  excellence  for  the  want  of  exertion,  and  fink  under  furmountable  difficulties,  without 
a  ftruggle.  Though  there  may  not  be  permanent  happinefs  in  the  gratification  of  our  wifhes, 
there  is  much  in  our  expectations  that  they  will  be  gratified.  Hope  is  the  fweet  and  innocent  fo- 
lace  of  our  frail  natures.  It  is  the  flaff  of  the  unhappy  ;  and  however  feeble  its  fupport,  it  is  immo 
ral  and  unkind  to  wreft  it  from  our  hands. 

The  effedt  of  Jtajelas,  and  of  Johnfon's  other  moral  tales,  is  thus  beautifully  illuflrated  by 
Mr.  Courtenay,  in  his  "  Poetical  Review  :" 

Imprefiive  truth,  in  f^Iendid  fi&ion  dreft, 

Checks  the  vain  wifli,  and  calms  the  troubled  bread; 

O'er  the  dark  mind  a  light  celcftial  throw?, 

And  fooths  the  angry  paflions  to  repofe. 

As  oil  effus'd  illumes  and  fmooths  the  deep, 

When  round  the  bark  the  fwelling  furges  fweep. 

As  a  political  "writer^  his  productions  are  more  diftinguifhed  by  fubtlety  of  difquifi  tiori,  poignancy 
of  farcafm,  and  dignity  and  energy  of  ftyle,  than  by  truth,  equity,  or  candour.  He  makes  much  more 
life  of  his  rhetoric  than  of  his  logic,  and  often  gives  his  reader  high-founding  declamation  inftead 
of  fair  argument.  In  perufing  his  reprefentations  of  thofe  who  differed  from  him  on  political  fub- 
je&s,  we  are  fometimes  inclined  to  aflent  to  a  propofition  of  his  own,  that,  "  there  is  no  credit 
due  to  a  rhetorician's  account,  either  of  good  or  evil."  Many  pofitions  are  laid  down  in  admirable 
language,  and  in  highly-polifhed  periods,  which  are  inconfillent  with  the  principles  of  the  Britifh 
conftitution,  and  repugnant  to  the  common  rights  of  mankind.  It  muft  always  be  regretted,  that  a 
man  of  Johnfon's  intellectual  powers,  fhould  have  had  fo  ftrong  a  propenfity  to  defend  arbitrary 
principles  of  government.  But,  on  this  fubjecl,  the  ftrength  of  his  language  was  not  more  mani- 
feft,  than  the  weaknefs  of  his  arguments.  In  apology  for  him,  it  may  be  admitted,  that  he  was  a 
Tory  from  principle,  and  that  moft  of  what  he  wrote,  was  conformable  to  his  real  fentiments. 
But  to  defend  all  that  was  written  by  him,  his  warmeft  friends  will  find  impofiible. 

In  his  pofthumous  writings,  there  is  little  that  can  be  faid  to  be  interefting  to  fcience  or  criti« 
«ifm.  His  Letters  are  valuable,  as  we  find  in  them  the  pi&ure,  which,  without  intending  it,  he 
has  left  of  himfelf,  to  be  that  of  a  man,  who,  to  great  intellectual  powers,  added  extraordinary 
piety,  and  many  excellent  moral  qualities.  Of  letter  writing,  he  gives  his  idea  in  the  following 
paflage  :  "  Some,  when  they  write  to  their  friends,  are  all  affection ;  fome  are  wife  and  fenten- 
tious  ;  fome  ftrain  their  powers  for  effects  of  gravity  ;  fome  write  news ;  and  fome  write  fecrets  • 
but  to  make  a  letter  without  affection,  without  wifdom,  without  gravity,  without  news,  and 
tvithout  fecrets,  is  doubtlefs  the  great  cpiftolic  ftyle.  There  is  a  pleafure  in  correfponding  with  a 
friend,  where  doubt  and  miftruft  have  no  place,  and  every  thing  is  faid  as  it  is  thought.  Thefe 
are  the  letters  by  which  fouls  are  united,  and  by  which  minds,  naturally  in  unifon,  move 
each  other,  as  they  are  moved  themtelves.  Let  me  know  where  you  are,  how  you  got 
thither,  how  you  live  there  ?  and  every  thing  that  one  friend  loves  to  know  of  another."  Such  is 
the  account  of  his  Letters^  The  value  of  them  is,  that  we  have  the  man  before  us  for  near  twenty 
years.  We  fee  him  in  his  undrefs,  that  is,  the  undref*  of  his  mind,  which,  unlike  that  of  his  body, 
•was  never  flovenly.  We  fee  him  in  health  and  in  Ccknefs.  and  in  all  the  petty  bufiiiefs  of  life. 
From  hmifelf,  and  in  his  own  words,  we  are  enubled  to  colled  the  trueft  and  beft  information. 
He  writes  always  in  his  own  ftyle.  His  words  are  now  and  then  too  pompous  for  familiar  letters; 
tut  his  ftill  in  letter  writing  comes  out  fully  in  this  collection,  and  entitles  him  to  rank  with  the 
beft  epiftolary  writers  of  our  nation.  His  jetters  on  the  death  of  Mrs.  Salulbury  (mother  of  Mrs. 
Piozzi},  and  Mr,  Thrale's  eldcft  fen,  arc  at  ouce  moral  and  pathetic.  They  flow  from  a  man,  who 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.  819 

loved  them,  and  the  furviving  family.  His  Iblicitude  for  Mr.  Thrale,  during  a  long  i'lnefs,  and 
his  feelings  at  his  death,  do  honour  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Thrale,  and  to  Johnfon's  gratitude  and 
fenfibility.  "  I  am  afraid,"  he  fays,  "  of  thinking  what  I  have  loft  ;  I  never  had  fuch  a  friend  be 
fore."  To  Mrs.  Thrale,  he  fays,  "  To  fee  and  hear  you,  is  always  to  hear  wit  and  fee  virtue." 
He  feems  at  times  to  think  her  regard  for  him  is  abated  ;  and  a  letter  ot  kindnefs  from  her  ap 
pears  to  have  revived  and  comforted  him.  Afrer  lamenting  the  lofs  of  Williams  and  Levett,  he 

fays  :   "  StBch  fociety  I  had  with  them,  and  fuch  I  had- where  I  am  never  likely  to  have  it  more. 

When  I  came  to  "  love  and  honour,"  in  your  letter,  I  faid  to  myfelf,  "  How  lov'd,  how 
honour'd  once,  avails  me  not,"  Shall  we  never  again  exchange  our  thoughts  by  the  firefide  ?" 
After  feeing  him  ftruggle  with  illnefs  and  morbid  melancholy,  it  is  comfortable  to  hear  him  fay, 
almoft  at  the  clofe  of  life  "  Attention  and  refpe<5l  give  pleafure,  however  late,  and  however  ufckl's. 
But  they  arc'  not  ufelefs,  even  when  they  are  late  ;  it  is  reafonable  to  rejoice  as  the  day  declines, 
to  find  that  it  has  been  fpent  with  the  approbation  of  mankind." 

His  Prayers  and  Meditations,  publiflied  by  Mr.  Strahan, "  at  his  own  requeft,"  have  occaficned  much 
concern,  difquietude,  and  offence  in  the  minds  of  many,  who  apprehend  that  the  caule  in  which 
he  ftood  forth,  will  fuffer  ,by  the  infirmities  of  the  advocate  being  cxpofcd  in  this  publication,  to 
the  prying  and  malignant  eyj  of  the  world.  It  is  not  merely  the  name  of  Johnfon  that  is  to  do 
fervice  to  any  caufe.  His  admirable  arguments  in  favour  of  religion  and  morality,  are  not  weaken 
ed  by  the  proofs  r.f  his  practical  errors.  Thefc  are  always  precifd/  what  they  were,  once  good, 
and  always  good.  His  arguments  in  favour  of  felf-denial  do  not  lofe  their  force,  becaufe  be  fajled ;  • 
nor  thofe  in  favour  of  devotion,  becaufe  Icfaid  bis  prayers.  His  faflir »  ;»nd  his  prayers  add  ftrength  to 
his  pious  reafonings,  from  the  proof  they  afford,  that  he  believed  in  the  religion  he  inculcated. 
Human  nature  is  frail ;  common  frailties  muft  inevitably  preclude  perfection  to  the  leaft  faulty 
profeffor  of  Chriilianity.  The  world  never  fuppofed  Johnfon  te  have  been  a  perfect  character. 
His  ftupendous  abilities,  and  great  learning,  it  is  well  known,  could  not  preferve  their  poffeffor 
from  the  depredations  of  melancholy.  But  his  failings  leaned  to  the  fide  of  virtue.  His  fuper- 
ftition  feems  to  have  arifen  from  the  tnoft  amiable  difpofition  in  the  world,  "  a  pious  awe,  and  fear 
to  have  off<«.fled,"  a  wifli  rather  to  do  too  much  than  too  little.  Such  a  difpofition  one  loves,  and 
always  wifhes  to  find  in  a  friend  ;  and  it  cannot  be  difagreeable  in  the  fight  of  Him  who  made  us. 
It  argues  a  fenfibility  of  heart,  a  tendernefs  of  confcience,  and  the  fear  of  God.  That  he  fhould 
not  be  confcious  of  the  abilities  with  which  Providence  had  bleffed  him,  was  impoffible, ,  He  felt 
his  own  powers;  he  felt  what  he  was.  capable  of  having  performed,  and  he  faw  how  little,  com 
paratively  fpeaking,  he  had  performed.  Hence  his  apprehenfions  on  the  near  prbfpeft  of  the  ac 
count  to  be  made,  viewed  through  the  medium  of  conftitutional  and  morbid  melancholy,  which 
often  excluded  from  his  fight  the  bright  beams  of  divine  mercy.  His  felf-abafenunt  was  ftrictly 
ingenuous ;  but  his  expreflions,  when  compared  with  the  tenor  of  his  conduct,  feem  too  difparaging. 
Chriftianity  does  not  require  us  to  deny  anyone  quality  we  'p.>ffefs,  or  to  reprefent  ourfelves,  in 
defiance  of  truth,  as  one  mafs  of  deformity  and  guiit.  The  iuftruclion  of  St.  Paul,  enforced  by 
the  moft  facred  example,  is  fingly  this,  that  we  "  think  not  of  -ourlelves  ir.ore  highly  than  we 
ought  to  think;  but  that  we  think  foberly."  Johnfon  walked  at  all  times  humbly  with  his 
God;  but  when  we  follow  him  through  all  his  weakneffcs,  his  religious  horrors,  and  facred 
punctilios,  we  are  inclined  to  pity  the  conftitutional  fedblentfs  of  his  nature,  while  we  admire 
the  perfeverance,  and  fervour  of  his  devotion.  We  owe  to  the  excellencies  of  the  Supreme  Be 
ing,  every  poffible  degree  of  veneration  and  honour;  but  that  virtue  fhould  tremble  in  the 
prefence  of  Infinite  Goodnefs,  is  not  lefs  contrary  to  reafon,  than  it  is  contrary  to  heroifm.  la 
the  prefence  of  Infinite  Goodnefs  it  feels  a  congeniality.,  and  affumes  a  confidence  that  leaps, 
as  it  were,  the  gulf  between,  and  dares  to  afpire  to  fentiments  of  attachment,  fidelity  and  love. 
But  it  would  be  unfair  to  conclude  from  this  circumftance,  that  the  piety  and  humility  of  Johnfon, 
were  of  ne  value  ;  and  the  fincerity  of  his  repentance,  the  fledfaftnefs  of  his  faith,  and  the  fervor  of  his 
charity,  of  no  ufe.  There  is  fomething  fo  great  and  awful  in  the  idea  of  a  God,  and  fomething  fo 
fafciaauug  in  the  effufions  of  gratitude,  that  there  arc  numbers  of  men  intrepid  and  heroical,  in 

3F  ij 


8:e  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

every  other  regard,  that  iannotboaft  of  all  the  ferenity  and  affurance  in  the  bufmefs  of  religion,  tnst 
arc  fo  carneftly  to  be  defired ;  and  yet  the  piety  of  thefe  men  is  edifying  and  venerable.  Indeed 
the  fate  of  "  the  unprofitable  fervant"  may  juftly  beget  apprchenfiont  in  the  flouted  mind.  Lan 
guage  affords  no  finer  erprefli  m»  than  thofe  in  which  the  Trayen  of  Johnfon  are  conceived.  They 
are  ftort,  fimple,  and  unadorned.  They  bear  fome  reftmblance  to  the  Colle&s  in  the  "  Common 
Prayer  Bo;  k,"  without  that  dignity  which  is  derived  to  the  latter,  from  the  venerable  antiquity  of 
the  ftyle  and  expreflion.  They  have  no  particular  method,  no  difplay  of  genius,  and  no  beautie» 
that  fhould  characterize  the  man  under  whofe  name  they  appear.  They  have  nothing  that  might 
not  have  been  produced  by  any  man  of  plain  common  fenfe.  At  the  fame  time  they  contain  few 
traces  of  weaknefs  or  abfurdity.  Never  did  there  exifl  a  greater  difparity  between  the  performance* 
of  the  fnms  author,  than  between  this  publication  and  the  Livti  <f  the  Poets,  or  tbe  numbers  of  the 
Rjmb'er.  His  Mtiitatimt,  as  they  arc  improperly  called,  are  merely  minutes  ;  at  one  time  of  refo- 
lutions  for  his  future  conduct,  and  at  another,  in  the  ftyle  of  a  diary  or  journal.  Neither  of  them 
deferve  the  commendation  which  has  been  beftowed  upon  the  Prayers.  They  are  full  of  frivolou» 
mmutentfiVb,  and  feminine  weaknefs,  beyond  any  thing  of  which  an  abftradt  defcription  can 
'fuggeft  the  idea.  They  tell  us,  that  Johnfon,  in  fpite  of  all  the  contemptuous  ridicule  with  which 
he  has  treated  that  delicate  frame,  which  depends  for  its  compwfure  on  the  clouds  and  the  winds, 
•was  himfelf  not  exempt  from  languor,  fluggiihnefs,  and  procraftination :  that  he  was  full  of  the 
moft  pitiable  religious  credulity  ;  and  that  his  attention  was  often  engrofled  by  things  in  the  Jaft 
degree  frivolous,  futile,  and  unimportant.  But  if  thefe  obfervafions  are  rather  difadvantageous  to 
Johnfon,  it  is  no  lefs  unqueftioi  *;>le  that  he  difplays  a  fenfibility  and  a  humane  benevolence  of 
heart,  that  have  rarely  been  equalled.  Mr.  Strahan's  apology  for  Johnfon's  feeming  to  pray  for 
his  decealed  wife,  is  fupported  by  his  opinion,  refpe<Sling  purgatory,  recorded  by  Mr  Bofwell. 
In  his  coolrr  moments  he  did  not  think  fuch  prayers  proper,  except  with  the  limitations  there  ex. 
preffed  ;  but  his  morbid  melancholy  did  not  always  allow  him  to  be  cnol ;  there  were  many  mo 
ments  when  his  language  countenanced  a  very  different  opinion.  The  ftruggU?.  in  a  breaft,  cor.fti- 
tuted  as  his  was,  between  the  fevere  principles  of  Froteftantifm,  and  the  genuine  undiff iplinable 
feelings  of  the  heart,  illuftrates  the  kindnefs  of  his  nature  more  than  it  could  be  illufinr.ed  by  any 
ether  drcumftance.  , 

His  Semens,  j'ublifhed  under  the  name  of  Dr.  Taylor,  are  not  unworthy  of  the  author  of  the 
Jtamlttr,  and  afford  additional  proof  of  his  ardour  in  the  caufe  of  piety,  and  every  moral  duty.  The 
laft  diftonrfe  in  the  collection  was  intended  to  be  delivered  by  Dr.  Taylor,  at  the  funeral  of 
Jnhnfon's  wife,  but  he  declined  the  office,  btcaufe,  as  he  told  Mr.  Hayes,  the  praife  of  the  deceafed 
was  too  much  amplified.  He  who  reads  the  difcourfe,  will  find  it  a  beautiful  moral  IciTon,  written 
with  temper,  and  no  where  overcharged  with  ambitious  ornaments.  The  reft  of  the  difcourfes  were 
the  fund  which  Dr.  Taylor,  from  time  to  time,  carried  with  him  to  the  pulpit. 

Tbo^jfA  of  his  prcfe  writings  has  been  too  often  crhicifed,  to  need  b:ing  noticed  here.  It  has 
been  cenfuR-d,  applauded,  and  imitated,  to  extremes  equally  dangerous  to  the  puriry  of  the  Englifh 
tongue.  That  he  has  innovated  upon  our  Jang"age  by  his  adoption  of  Latin  derivatives,  and  hit 
preference  of  abftracl:  to  concrete  terms,  cannot  be  denied.  But  the  danger  f-om  his  innovation 
would  be  trifling,  if  thofe  alone  would  copy  him  who  can  think  with  equal  precifion ;  for  f?w  paf- 
iages  can  be  pointtd  out  from  his  works,  in  which  his  meaning  could  be  as  accurately  tiprefled  by 
fuch  words  ar  arc  in  more  familiar  nfe.  His  comprehenCon  of  mind  was  the  mould  for  his  language. 
Had  hrs  comprehension  been  narrower,  his  exprtffion  would  have  been  eafier.  His  fcntence*  have  a 
dignified  march,  fuitable  to  the  elevation  of  his  fentimtnts,  and  the  pomp  of  his  fonorous  phrafeo. 
legy.  And  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  while  he  has  added  harmony  and  dignity  to  our  language, 
he  has  neither  vitiated  it  by  the  infcrtion  of  foreign  idioms,  Or  the  affectation  of  anomaly  in  the  con. 
ftiu&ioij  of  his  feritences.  While  the  flowers  of  poetic  imagination  luxuriantly  adorn  his  ftyle,  it  is 
never  enfeebled  by  their  plenitude.  It  is  clofe  without  obtenebration,  perfpicuous  without  Ian. 
guor,  and  flrong  without  impetuofity.  No  periods  are  fo  harmonious  ;  none  fo  ncrvou«  He  ha» 
his  ftyle  with  Ac  grcatcft  attention;  perhaps  its  elaborateness  is  too  apparent. 

4 


THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  Sit 

baps,  too  unweildy  and  too  uniform  a  dignity.  He  feems  to  have  been  particularly  fludious  cf  the 
glitter  of  an  antithefis  between  the  epithet  and  the  fubftantive.  This  ftrikes  while  it  is  new  ;  but  to 
the  more  experienced  leader,  though  it  may  feem  fometimes  forcible,  yet  it  will  often  prove  tirc- 
fome.  It  is  remarkable  that  J.-ihnfon's  early  performances  bear  few  marks  of  the  ft)!e  which  he 
adopted  in  his  Rambler.  In  his  Lift  of  Savage,  the  flyle  is  elegant,  but  not  oftentatious.  His  fen- 
tences  are  naturally  arranged,  and  mufical  without  artifice.  He  affects  not  the  meafuring  of  claufes, 
and  the  balancing  cf  periods.  He  aims  not  at  fplendid,  glowing  diction.  He  feeks  not  pointed 
phrafes,  and  elaborate  contrafls.  It  is  alfo  worthy  of  remark,  on  this  fubject,  that  John  Ton  has  al 
tered,  and  perhaps  improved  his  flyie,  long  after  his  reputation  had  been  eftabliflied,  and  h'uRansiler 
had  appeared  The  compofiti.  n  of  this  work  differs  a  good  deal  from  that  of  Rajfehs,  the  Joumty 
to  the  tVtJIcrn  Jlandi,  and  Tie  Lives  of  t'e  Poets.  The  native  vigour,  and  peculiarity  of  feature,  are 
indeed  prefcrvcd,  but  they  are  polifhed  to  greater  elegance,  and  taught  to  wear  the  appearance  of  a 
happier  cafe.  In  the  Ramb'.er  his  periods  are  longer,  and  his  meaning  more  condenfed  ;  he  is  more 
fond  of  abftract  terms,  and  ambitious  of  fefquipedalian  words.  But  this  work  was  written  while 
he  was  occupied  in  collecting  authorities  for  his  Difiltnary ;  at  a  time  when  Browne  and  Hooker, 
Bacon  and  Hake  well  were  continually  before  him  ;  men  whom  it  was  difficult  to  read,  and  re 
main  free  from  the  temptation  to  imitate.  In  his  latter  productions,  particularly  his  Livet  ef  ike 
feets,  his  fentcuces  are  ihorter,  their  conftru&ion  more  fimple,  and  the  ufe  of  Latin  derivations  Icfs 
frequent.  He  has  made  his  ftylc  in  a  greater  degree  elegant  without  conftraint,  dignified  without 
ambitious  ornament,  ftrong  without  rigidity,  and  harmonious  without  elaboration.  He  has  adopt 
ed  a  meafured  paufe,  and  a  correfpondent  length  in  the  numbers  of  his  periods,  which  gives  to  hit 
profe  much  of  the  harmony,  and  fometimes  fomewhat  of  the  monotony  of  verfe.  As  Homer  gave 
a  peculiar  language  to  his  gods,  to  exprcfs  their  divine  conceptions,  let  us  allow  to  Johnfon,  and 
to  men  like  him,  a  ftyle  fuch  as  he  has  ufed  ;  for  we  have  as  yet  found  none  more  grand  and  ener 
getic.  It  is  certain  that  his  example  has  given  a  general  elevation  to  the  language  of  his  country; 
for  many  of  our  beft  writers  have  approached  very  near  to  him  ;  and  from  the  influence  which  he 
has  had  upon  our  coirpofition,  fcarcely  any  thing  is  written  now  that  is  not  better  exprtfled  than 
•was  ufual  before  he  appeared  to  lead  the  national  tafte.  This  circumftance  is  well  described  by  Mr. 
Courtenay,  in  his  "  Poetical  Review  ;"  a  performance  which  fhows  that  he  has  caught  no  mean  de 
gree  of  the  expar.fion  and  harmony  which  characterize  the  ftyle  of  Johufon. 

By  nature's  gifts  ordain'd  mankind  to  rule, 
He  like  a  Titian  form'd  his  brilliant  fchool, 
And  taught  congenial  fpirits  to  excel, 
While  from  his  lips  impreffive  wifdom  fell. 

Among  the  congenial  fpirits  "  who  formed  the  fchool  of  Johnfon,"  Mr.  Courtenay  celebrates  the 
refpectable  names  of  Goldfmith,  Sir  Jolhua  Reynolds,  Dr.  Burney,  Mr.  Malone,  Mr.  Steevens, 
Dr.  Hawkefworth,  Sir  William  Jones,  and  Mr.  Bofwell,  and  concludes  his  Uefcription  in  the  fol* 
{owing  animated  lines : 

Nor  was  his  energy  confm'd  alone 

To  friends  around  his  philofophic  throne; 

Hit  irjltence  •wide  impro'v'd  our  letter' tf  ijlc, 

s.nd  lucid  vigour  mari'tf  tbe  geniraijlyle  ; 

As  Nile's  proud  waves,  fwoln  from  their  oozy  bed, 

Firft  o'er  the  neighb'ring  mead  majeftic  fpread, 

Till,  gathering  force,  they  more  and  more  expand, 

And  with  due  virtue  fertilize  the  land. 

Among  the  imitators  of  Johnfon '»  ftyle,  whether  intentionally,  or  by  the  imperceptible  effect  of 
its  ftrength  and  animation,  may  be  reckoned  a  great  proportion  of  the  moft  diflinguifhed  writer* 
in  our  language  fioce  he  appeared,  Dr.  Robertfon,  Dr.  Blair,  Mr.  Gibbon,  Dr.  Leland,  Dr.  Fergu- 
fon,  Dr.  Knox,  Dr.  Stuart,  Dr.  Parr,  Dr.  Thomfon,  Dr.  Gillies,  &c.  Perhaps  the  moft  perfect  imi 
tation  of  Johnfon  is  a  profcffcd  one,  intituled  "  A  Criticifm  on  Gray's  Elegy  in  a  Country  Church. 
Yard,"  faid  fo  be  written  by  Dr.  Young,  Profeffor  of  Grcei  at  Glafgow.  It  has  not  only  the  pe-» 
cjjliarities  of  Tohnfcn's  Ayle,  but  that  very  fpccies  of  literary  difcuffion  and  illuftration  for  which  he 


Sas  THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

v: '•"••.    But  I^t  men  of  moderate  conceptions  beware  of  ill-judged  imitations.   Their  attempt 
v  hi?  language  is  Saftnor<ew  thundering  at  Elis,  or  a   mortal  wielding  the  fpear  of  Pelides. 
c  raife  a  melancholy  contrail  between  the  flimnefs  of  the  thought,  and  the  capacity  of  the 
cxpreffion,  to  c<>ver  the  head  of  a  pigmy  with  the  cafque  of  a  giant. 

As  a  poet,  the  merit  of  Joh-ifon,  though  confiderable,  yet  falls  far  fhort  of  that  which  he  has 
difplayed  in  thof>  provinces  of  literature  in  which  we  have  already  furveyed  him.  As  far  as  flreng'th 
of  expreffion,  fruitfulnefs  of  invention,  and  abundance  of  imagery,  conftitute  poetry,  he  is  much 
more  of  a  poet  in  his  profe  works,  than  in  his  metrical  compofitions.  Metaphor,  to  the  merit  of 
which  he  was  blind  and  uncharitable,  is  fo  much  the  f^ul  and  effence  of  poetry,  that  without  it 
rhyme  and  metre  are  vain.  There  may  be  fmoothnefs,  fyllabic  arrangement,  and  good  fenfe,  in  a 
metrical  production,  but  there  can  be  no  true  poetry  without  imagery,  warm  espreflion,  and  an 
enthufiafm  which  intoxicates  the  reader,  lifts  him  above  the  ground,  and  makes  him  forget  that  he 
is  mortal.  Poetry  is  paffi.in  ;  pafllon  is  a  temporary  phrenzy,  during  which  we  both  hear  and  fee 
•what  we  are  totally  infenfible  to  in  our  fober  fenfes.  What  did  the  ancients  mean  by  the  Pythian 
prieftefs  being  numlne  nffata,  when  (he  received  infpiration,  and  delivered  it  in  verfe,  and  in  apply 
ing  the  fame  idea  to  poets,  but  that  they  had  fuch  a  temporary  delirium?  Ratiocination  prevailed 
in  Johnfon  much  more  than  fenfibility.  He  has  no  daring  fublimities,  nor  gentle  graces ; 
he  never  glows  with  the  enthufiafm  of  the  god,  or  kindles  a  fympathetic  emotion  in  the  bofom 
of  his  readers.  His  poems  are  the  plai^  and  feniible  effufions  of  a  mind  never  hurried  be 
yond  itfelf,  to  which  the  ufe  of  rhyme  adds  no  beauty,  and  from  which  the  ufe  of  profe  would 
detract  no  force.  His  vetfiiication  is  fmooth,  flowing,  and  unreftrained ;  but  his  paufes  are 
not  fufficiently  varied,  to  refcue  him  from  the  imputation  of  monotony.  He  feems  never  at  a  lofs. 
for  rhyme,  or  deftitute  of  a  proper  exprcffion ;  and  the  manner  of  his  verfe  appears  admirably 
adapted  to  didactic  or  fatiric  poetry,  for  which  his  powers  were  equally,  and  perhaps  alone  qua 
lified. 

His  tragedy  of  Irene  may  be  confidered  as  the  greateft  effort  of  his  genius.  It  is  a  legitimate 
dramatic  compofition.  The  unities  of  time,  place,  and  action,  arc  ftrictly  obferved.  The  diction 
is  nervous,  rich,  and  elegant ;  but  fplendid  language,  and  melodious  numbers,  will  make  a  fine  poem, 
not  a  tragedy.  The  fubftance  of  the  ftory  is  fhortly  this.  In  1453,  Mahomet  the  Great,  firft  em 
peror  of  the  Turks,  laid  fiege  to  Conftantinople,  and  baring  reduced  the  place,  became  enamoured 
of  a  fair  Greek,  whofe  name  was  Irene.  The  fultan  invited  her  to  embrace  the  law  of  Mahomet, 
and  to  grace  his  throne.  Enraged  at  this  intended  marriage,  the  Janizaries  formed  a  confpiracy 
to  dethrone  the  emperor.  To  avert  the  impending  danger,  Mahomet,  in  a  full  afliembly  of  the  gran 
dees,  "  catching  with  one  hand,"  as  Knolles  expreffcs  it,  "  the  fair  Greek  by  the  hair  of  her  head, 
and  drawing  his  faulchion  with  the  other,  he,  at  one  blow,  (truck  off  her  head,  to  the  great  terror 
of  them  all;  and  having  fo  done,  faid  unto  them,  "  Now,  by  this,  judge  whether  your  emperor  is 
able  to  bridle  his  affections  or  not."  The  ftory  is  fimple,  and  it  remained  for  Johnfon  to  amplify 
it  with  proper  epifodes,  and  give  it  complication  and  variety.  But  he  has  altered  the  character  and 
cataflrophe,  which  he  found  in  the  hiftorian,  fo  as  to  diminSfh  the  dramatic  effect.  Many  faults 
may  be  found  with  the  conduct  of 'the  fable.  The  principal  one  is,  that  the  plot  is  double,  and  has 
the  moft  ftriking  faults  of  fuch  a  fable  ;  for  it  divides,  the  fpectator's  attention  and  regard  between 
characters,  whofe  interefts  are  oppofite,  and  whofe  happinefs  or  mifery  is  made  to  depend  upon  the 
..fame  events.  We  cannot  hope  the  efcape  of  Demetrius  and  dfpafa,  without  dreading  the  condem 
nation  of  Irene  ;  and  our  wifhes  as  to  each,  operating  in  contradiction,  muft  diminiOi  our  concern 
for  both.  The  cataftrophe,  which  is  made  to  depend  upon  the  fate  of  Irene,  is  meanly  worked  up. 
It  is  brought  about  too  fuddenly,  without  a  due  connection  with  preparatory  incidents,  and  at  the 
very  moment  when  we  have  not  leifure  to  contemplate  it,  and  are  alone  interefted  for  the  efcape 
of  Demetrius  and  Jifpafia.  We  neither  anticipate  it  with  fufficient  perfpicuity,  nor  confider  it  with 
folemnity,  fo  as  to  be  affected  upon  its  occurrence,  with  genuine  dramatic  grief  or  terror.  The 
characters  of  the  piece  have  nothing  discriminative.  They  are  not  representations  of  different  tem- 
J>ers,  pafiions,  and  minds,  but  of  difftrent  degrees  of  virtue  and  vice.  They  are  fo  aaked  of  pecu- 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  823 

Jiarity,  that  We  cannot  know  why  the  fame  incidents  fhould  operate  differently  upon  any  one  of 
them,  fo  as  to  impel  them  to  a  different  a<5tion,  or  produce  an  emotion  even  varying  in  ftrength 
from  what  it  would  have  d»ne  in  any  other.  They  pofTefs  too  much  of  a  balanced  importance  in  the 
conduct  of  the  drama,  fo  that  the  mind  knows  not  how  to  make  its  election  of  a  principal  character, 
or  to  fix  its  attention  upon  any  perfonagc  to  whofc  felicity  it  may  attach  its  wilhes,  and  upon  whofe 
fate  it  may  fufpend  its  fympathy.  From  the  name  of  the  tragedy,  we  muft  fuppofe  that  Johnfon 
confidered  Irene  as  the  heroine,  yet  the  reader  feels  more  concern,  even  for  the  ftoic  virtue  and  cool 
foudncfs  of  .  /fajiu.  The  former  is  too  much  of  a  mixed  character  ;  neither  her  goodnefs,  nor  her 
weaknefs,  nor  her  depravity  are  predominant.  She  has  not  fufficient  virtue  to  awaken  our  fym 
pathy  for  the  fuffcrings  of  innocence,  nor  fsjfncient  vice  to  aroufe  our  terror  at  the  punifhment  o£ 
guilt.  The  fpeeches  are  oftener  the  recollections  of  paft  feelings,  than  the  ebullitions  of  immedi 
ate  paflions,  darted  by  the  paffing  actions  of  the  fcene.  Little  is  made  prefent  to  the  fpe<£taror'« 
mind,  and  of  that  little,  nothing  has  life.  His  critique  upon  the  tragic  poets,  of  the  commence 
ment  of  tins  century,  is,  perhaps,  in  no  inflance,  more  true  than  it  is  of  himfelf. 

From  bard  to  bard  the  frigid  caution  crept, 
And  declamation  roar'd  whilft  paffion  flept ; 
Yet  ftill  did  virtue  deign  the  dage  to  tread, 
Philofophy  remain  d,  though  nature  fled. 

He  has  nothing  of  the  fire  of  Lee,  or  the  pathos  of  Otway.  He  is  more  declamatory  than  Rowe, 
and  Irene,  if  pofiible,  is  colder  than  "  Caco."  There  is  not,  throughout  the  play,  a  fingle  fitua- 
tion  to  excite  curiofity,  and  raife  a  conflict  of  paflions  The  fentiments  are  juft  and  always  mo 
ral,  but  feldom  appropriated  to  the  character,  and  generally  too  philolbphic.  His  poetical  imagery 
is  neither  ftriking  nor  abundant.  The  language  in  which  the  thoughts  are  conveyed,  is,  in  general, 
vigorous,  accurately  poliftied,  and  regularly  mufical.  It  would  be  difficult  to  felect  a  paffage  in 
dramatic  poetry  more  nobly  conceived,  or  finely  expreffed,  than  the  reply  of  Dcmitrlut  to  the  com- 
plaint  of  his  friend,  that  no  prodigy  from  Heaven  had  foretold  the  calamities  of  Greece. 

A  thoufand  horrid  prodigies  foretold  it ; 

A  feeble  government,  eluded  laws, 

A  fadious  populace,  luxurious  nobles, 

And  all  the  maladies  of  (inking  dates  ; 

When  public  villany,  too  ftrong  for  juftice, 

Shows  his  bold  front,  the  harbinger  of  ruin, 

Can  brave  Leontius  call  for  any  wonders,  »f 

Which  cheats  interpret,  and  which  fools  regard  ? 

When  fome  neglected  fabric  nods  beneath 

The  weight  of  years,  and  totters  to  the  temped, 

Muft  Heaven  difpatch  the  meffengers  of  light, 

Or  wake  the  dead  to  warn  us  of  its  fail? 

As  an  alloy  to  the  beauties  of  this  paffage,  impartial  criticitm  is  compelled  to  turn  to  another, 
which  is  furely  little  Ciort  of  nonfenfe,  and  well  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  treatife  of  "  Scriblerus.' 

Oft  have  I  rag'd,  when  their  wide-wafting  cannon 
Lay  pointed  at  our  batteries,  yet  unfofta'd, 
And  broke  the  meditated  lines  of  war. 

Irene  may  be  added  to  fome  other  plays  in  our  language,  which  have  loft  their  place  in  the  theatre, 
but  continue  to  pleafe  in  the  clofet.  As  it  is  the  drama  of  our  great  Englifh  moralift,  the  prefent 
writer  fhould  wifh  to  fee  it  revived. 

Of  the  poetical  compofitions,  which  are  known  to  be  of  his  writing,  the  Imitations  of  Juve 
nal  are  the  beft ;  and  are,  perhaps,  the  nobleft  imitations  to  be  found  in  any  language.  They  are  not 
fo  clofe  as  thofe  done  by  Pope  from  Horace  ;  but  they  are  infinitely  more  fpirited  and  energetic.  In 
Pope,  the  mod  peculiar  images  of  Roman  life  are  adapted  with  fingular  addrefs  to  our  own  times; 
in  Johnfon,  the  fimilitude  is  only  in  general  pafiages,  fuitable  to  every  age  in  which  refinement  ha* 
degenerated  into  depravity. 

His  London  breathes  the  true  vehement  contemptuous  indignation  of  Juvenal's  fatire.  It  is  more 
popular  in  its  fubject,  and  more  animated  in  its  corapofition,  than  his  Vanity  of  Human  Wijkcs,  It 

3  F  ii'j 


*14  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

blazes  forth  -with  the  genuine  fire  of  poetry,  in  the  livelinefs  of  its  eorfefpondf nt  allnfion*,  the  ener 
gy  of  its  expreffions,  and  the  frequency  of  it*  apoftrophes.  The  Vanity  of  Human  VSlfecs  is  more 
grave,  moral,  fentcntious,  and  ftarely.  In  his  London  he  often  takes  nothing  more  than  the  fnhject 
from  the  Roman  poet,  proves  or  illuftrates  it  according  to  the  originality  of  his  own  conceptions,  or 
the  warmth  of  his  own  fancy ;  and  fometimes,  too,  he  deferts  him  altogether,  and  that  not  only 
where  the  modefty  of  an  Englifh  ear,  and  the  inapplicability  of  the  original  to  modern  cuftoms  re 
quire  it,  but  in  places  where  the  topics  and  the  moral  ufe  is  as  applicable  to  London  as  they  are  to 
ancient  Rome.  Thus  he  has  either  totally  negleded,  or  but  flightly  imirafcd  that  beautiful  paflage 
beginning  at  ver.  137, 

Pat  reftem  Romz  fam  fanfium,  quam  fuit  hofpes 

Nnminis  Iclzi,  &c. 

and  ending  with  ver.  190. 

praftare  trihuta  clientes 

Cogimur,  et  cultis  augere  peculia  fervjg. 

The  Vanity  of  Human  Wlfbti  follows  the  original  more  clofely,  but  dill  with  many  emifiions.  The 
fubje&  is  taken  from  the  fecond  "  Alcibudes."  of  Plato,  and  has  an  intermixture  of  the  fentiments  of 
Socrates,  concerning  the  object  of  prayers  offered  up  to  the  Deity.  The  general  proportion  is,  that 
good  and  evil  are  fo  little  underftood  by  mankind,  that  their  wifiies,  when  granted,  are  always  de- 
ftructive.  This  is  exemplified  in  a  variety  of  inftanees,  fuch  a*  riches,  date  preferment,  elo 
quence,  military  glory,  long  life,  and  the  advantages  of  beauty.  Juvenal's  conclufion  is  admirable. 
"  Let  us,"  he  fays,  "  leave  it  to  the  gods  to  judge  what  is  fitted  for  us.  Man  is  dearer  to  his  Cre 
ator  than  to  himfelf.  If  we  muft  pray  for  any  fpecial  grace,  let  it  be  for  a  found  mind,  in  a  found 
body.  Let  Us  pray  for  fortitude,  that  we  may  think  the  labours  of  Hercules,  and  all  his  fuffc-rings, 
preferable  to  a  life  of  luxury,  difiipation,  and  the  foft  rcpofe  of  Sardanapulus.  This  is  a  blcffing 
within  the  reach  of  every  man  ;  this  we  can  give  ourfelvcs.  It  is  virtue,  and  virtue  only,  that  can 
make  us  happy."  For  the  characters  which  Juvsnal  has  chofen  to  illuflrate  his  doftrine,  Johnfon 
has  fubdituted  others  from  modern  hiftory  ;  for  Sejanus,  he  gives  Cardinal  JVolfey,  Buckingham,  dab- 
bed  by  Feltori,  "Sfrafford  and  Clarendon  •  for  Demofthenes  and  Cicero,  Lydiat,  Ca.ilte,  and  Laud;  for 
Hannibal,  Cbarlet  XII ;  and  to  (how  the  confequences  of  long  life,  he  fays, 

From  MarlVrwgljt  eyes  the  dreams  of  dotage  flow, 
And  Swift  expires  a  driveller  and  a  {how. 
and  of  beauty  he  fays, 

Yet  Vane  would  tell  what  ills  from  beauty  fpring, 
And  Scd'cy  curs'd  the  form  that  pleas'd  a  king. 

This  lift  example  is  ill  chofen ;  for  it  is  well  known  that  the  Countefs  of  Dorchefter,  miftrefs  to 
James  II.  was  not  handfome.  Owing  to  the  dearth  of  modern  examples,  his  inftances  are  lefs  nu 
merous  and  lefs  ftriking  than  thofe  of  Juvenal.  His  thoughts  are  not  fo  compreffed  in  the  expref- 
fion,  or  fo  energetically  conveyed  to  the  mind,  as  thofe  of  the  Roman  fat i rift  ;  but  his  di&ion  is  lef» 
laboured  and  atfe&ed,  and  he  flows  in  a  dream  of  verification  fcarcely  lefs  rapid  and  eloquent,  but 
infinitely  more  fmooth  than  the  Latin  poet.  He  has  prefervcd  all  the  beauties  and  virtue  of  the  ori 
ginal  moral,  but  {tripped  it,  with  infinite  art,  from  all  appearance  of  Epicurean  infidelity,  and  filled 
it  with  precepts  worthy  of  a  philofopher,  and  wiflies  fitting  for  a  Chriflian.  He  has  fucceeded  won- 
derfully  in  giving  to  his  imitation  the  air  of  an  original.  The  Chriftian  had  to  ftrugglc  with  the 
Heathen  poet,  and  though  we  cannot  fay  that  he  has  furpaffcd  him,  he  has,  at  lead,  entered  into  a 
noble  competition. 

Of  his  fmaller  poems,  the  Prrftgueftr  lit  Ofening  tf  Dr*ry-Lane  Theatre,  has  been  univerfally  ad 
mired,  as  a  mafterly  and  compreheDfive  criticifm  upon  the  fevcral  ages  of  Engliih  dramatic  p»etry. 
The  fnbjecl  and  the  moral  were  well  conceived,  and  are  as  nobly  exprefTed.  The  character  of 
Shakfpeare  is  delineated  with  a  felicity  of  exprefiion,  that  challenges  the  whole  compaf*  of  Englifh 
poetry.  Hi»  other  Froltguti  are  copies  of  his  mind,  clear  and  comprehenfive,  pointed  and  ener 
getic.  Of  his  Odtt  upon  the  feafons,  his  addrefle*  to  Jutvmn  and  Jfinttr  feem  the  beft.  Many  of  the 

fc   ••     •  - •"       "  • •    '   ••: 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.  taj 

(ranzas  are  exceedingly  Beautiful;  as  ufual,  moral,  and  unufually  pathetic.  They  manlfeft,  how 
ever,  that  hr,  defcriptive  poetry  is  not  the  predudion  of  a  warm  fancy,  impelled  to  give  vent  by 
poefy  to  its  overflowing  feelings  Thofe  paffions  and  objevSs  which  would  infpirc  the  genuine  po 
etic  mind  with  enthufiafm,  pafs  by  him  rnfelt  and  unnoticed.  He  is  melancholy  in  Spring,  jo- 
jtund  in  Winter  :  he  laviflies  no  encomiums  upon  the  perfumed  zephyrs,  but  flies  to  melancholy 
morals,  or  commemorates  the  comforts  of  a  cheering  flaggon  and  a  fnug  fire-fide.  His  Ode  to  Evening 
addrefled  'o  Stella,  the  Naturjl  Beauty,  and  the  Vanity  tf  Wealth,  are  in  general  elegant.  The  firft 
is  warm  and  fentimental,  and  fliows  that  he  v.-as  neither  ignorant  of  the  feelings,  nor  infenfiblc  to 
the  ioys  of  a  lover.  Of  his  addrefs  To  Lyce,  the  idea  perhaps  is  not  original,  but  the  images  are  happily 
fele<3ed,  and  well  exprefled.  Stella  in  Mourning,  the  vcrfes  to  Lady  Firebrace,  'To  an  elderly  Lady, 
and  On  the  Sfr!<r  f/  ;\'\rt!e.  are  occafional  compofuions,  and  of  courfc  derive  their  merit  chiefly 
from  local  and  temporary  circumftanccs.  The  principal  art  in  fuch  performances,  is  to  make  a 
trifling  circnmftance  poetical  or  witry.  In  the  verfes  on  tit  Sfrig  of  Myrtle ,  he  has  very  happily 
fucceeded.  The  /nt  muft  be  allowed  to  be  nervous  and  elegant,  t^e  ode  on  friend/tip  cafy  and  fentU 
mental ;  and  the  verfes  an  tie  Death  tfSteflea  Grey  are  worthy  the  pen  of  Pope. 

The  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  Lcvett,  as  it  was  among  the  laft,  fo  it  ii  one  of  the  beft  of  hi«  per 
formances.  It  is  moral,  character iflic,  and  pathetic.  The  following  ftanzas  arc  cxquifitcly  beautiful. 

Yet  ftill  he  fills  affection's  eye, 

Obfcurely  wife  and  coarfely  kind ; 
Nor  letter'd  arrogance  deny 

This  praife  to  merit  unrtfin'd. 
When  fainting  nature  call  d  for  aid, 

And  hovering  death  prepar'd  the  blow, 
His  vigorous  remedy  dilplay'd 

The  power  of  art  without  the  Ihow  : 
In  mifery's  darkeft  cavern  known, 

His  ufeful  care  was  ever  nigh, 
Where  hopelefs  anguifb  pour'd  his  groan, 

And  lonely  want  retir'd  to  die. 
No  fummons  mock'd  by  chill  delay, 

No  petty  gain  difdain'd  by  pride ; 
The  modeft  wants  of  every  day 

The  toil  of  every  day  fupply'd. 

The  concluding  lines  are  exceptionable  : 

Death  broke  at  once  the  vital  d>a!at 
And  forc'd  his  foul  the  neareji  •way. 

Since  it  is  the  foul  which  gives  life,  the  chain  that  confines  the  foul  Is  corporeal ;  The  vital  chain 
cannot  be  faid,  with  propriety,  to  be  broken  by  death.  Johnfon  would  not  have  forgiven  an  cr« 
ror  of  this  kind  in  Gray. 

Of  his  remaining  pieces,  fome  are  mere  impromptus,  which  were  never  intended  for  the  public 
eye,  and  others  were  the  fuggeftions  of  temporary  incidents.  Many  of  them  are  fprightly  and  ele« 
gant,  and  may  be  read  with  pleafure  ;  but  they  require  no  diftincl  enumeration,  or  particular  criti- 
cifm. 

Among  our  Englifli  poets,  it  is  no  unpleafant  reflection  to  be  able  to  find  fo  many  elegant  writers  of 
Latin  verfe ;  in  the  firft  rank  of  which,  Johnfon  ftands  very  high.  Jonfon,  Crafiiaw,  Cowley ,  May, 
Milton,  Marvel,  Addifon,  Gray,  Smart,  Warton,  and  Johnfon,  are  fuch  writers  of  Latin  verfc,  a« 
any  country  might  with  juftice  be  proud  to  own.  Johnfon  was  eminently  {killed  in  the  Latin  tongue, 
and  ftrongly  attached  to  the  cultivation  of  Lat?n  poetry.  The  firft  fruits  of  his  genius  were  com- 
pofitions  in  Latin  verfe.  His  tranflation  of  the  Mfjpab,  gained  him  reputation  in  the  college  ia 
\vhich  it  was  written,  and  was  approved  by  Pope.  Virgil  fecms  to  have  been  hi- model  for  language 
and  verification.  He  has  copied  the  varied  paufes  of  his  verfe,  the  length  of  his  periods,  the  peculiar 
grace  of  his  expreflions,  and  his  majeftic  dignity,  with  confiderable  fuccefs.  But  his  competition  is 
fometimes  unclaffical  and  incorreft.  The  moft  exceptionable  line  is  the  firft;  tellere  conuntum,  if 
allowable,  ii  furely  an  awkward  phraft  for  "  begin  the  fong."  His  Odes,  particularly,  the  Odt 


gi6  THELIFEOFJOHNSON. 

laibkennetl),  Ode  in  tie  Jf.e  ef  Sty,  and  that  to  J\"rs.  Titrate,  fro.m  the  fame  place,  are  eafy,  elegant, 
and  poetical.  fhey  unite  1 1  flical  language,  tender  fentiment,  and  harmonious  verfe.  His  poem, 
Twti  ftaur'ji,  is  nervous  and  tnergetic.  His  Epitaphs  are  diftinguiihed  by  elegance  of  compofition, 
and  a  mafterly  ftyle.  That  on  Gal  fmitb  fcems  the  bed.  Hi*  Epigrams  are  neat  and  pointed.  In 
the  Antbologia,  we  admire  fometimes  a  happy  imitation,  and  fometimcs  regret  inelegant  exprefiions. 

For  obvious  reafons.  his  Latin  pieces,  though  excellent  in  their  kind,  can  never  acquire  the  po 
pularity  of  the  Englifh.  Thofe  who  read  with  pleafure  the  Latin  claffics,  fee  their  inferiority ;  to  others, 
they  are  unirterefting  and  unintelligible.  "  The  delight  which  they  afford,"  to  ufe  his  own  words,  in 
criticifing  the  Latin  poetry  of  Milton,  "  is  rather  by  the  exquifite  imitation  of  the  ancient  writers,  by 
the  purity  of  the  diction,  and  the  hatmony  of  the  numbers,  than  by  any  power  of  invention,  or 
vigour  of fentiment."  This  character  will  generally  fuit  our  modern  Latin  poetry;  for  if  we  ex 
cept  that  noble  ode  of  Gray's,  written  at  the  Grande  Chartreufe,  and  fome  few  others,  there  are  not 
Hiany  of  the  Pocmaia  Ang'.orum,  that  contain  much  "  power  of  invention,  or  vigour  of  fentiment." 

Upon  the  whole,  the  various  productions  of  Johnfi-n  fhow  a  life  fpent  in  ftudy  and  meditation. 
It  may  be  faiily  allowed,  as  he  ufed  to  fay  of  himfelf,  that  btbas  •writtenbisfiare.  His  oddities  and  in 
firmities  in  common  life,  will,  after  a  while,  be  overlcoked  and  forgotten  ;  but  his  writings  will 
remain  a  monyment  of  his  geoius  and  learning ;  flill  more  and  more  ftudied  and  admired,  while 
Britons  (hail  continue  to  be  characterized  by  a  love  of  elegance  and  fublimity,  of  good  fenfe  and 
virtue.  In  the  works  of  Johnfon,  the  reader  will  find  a  perpetual  fource  of  pleafure  and  inftruc- 
tion.  With  due  precaution,  men  may  learn  to  give  to  their  ftyle,  elegance,  harmony,  and  preci- 
fion  ;  they  may  be  taught  to  think  with  vigour  and  perspicuity;  and  all,  by  a  diligent  attention  to 
his  writings,  may  advance  in  virtue. 

The  character  of  Johnfon,  as  given  by  Mr.  Bofwell  in  the  conclufion  of  his  work,  is  delineated 
with  a  mafterly  pencil.  The  drawing  appears  to  be  fumciemly  accurate,  the  light  and  (hade  well 
diftrir>uted,  and  the  colouring  very  little  overchaged  or  heightened  ,  though  a  favourable  likenefs 
was  perhaps  in  fome  degree  intended,  as  far  as  might  leem  conQftent  with  the  truth  of  refemblance, 
and  no  farther. 

u  His  figure  was  large  and  well- formed,  and  his  countenance  of  the  caft  of  an  ancient  ftatue; 
yet  his  appearance  was  rendered  ftrange  and  fomewhat  uncouth,  by  convulfive  cramps,  by  the 
fears  of  that  diftemper  which  it  was  once  imagined  the  royal  touch  could  cure,  and  by  a  flo- 
venly  mode  of  drefs.  He  had  the  ufe  only  of  one  eye  ;  yet  fo  much  does  mind  govern,  and  even, 
fupply  the  deficiency  of  organs,  that  his  vifual  perceptions,  as  far  as  they  extended,  were  uncom 
monly  quick  and  accurate.  So  morbid  was  his  temperament,  that  he  never  knew  the  natural  joy 
of  a  free  and  vigorous  ufe  of  his  limbs:  when  he  walked,  it  was  like  the  ftruggling  gait  of  one  in  fet 
ters;  when  he  rode,  he  had  no  command  or  direction  cf  his  horfe,  but  was  carried  as  if  in  a  bal- 
loonv  That  with  his  conftitution  and  habits  of  life  he  mould  have  lived  feventy-five  years,  is  a 
proof  that  an  inherent  vfoida  -vis  is  a  powerful  prefervative  of  the  human  frame. 

a  Man  is  in  general  made  up  of  contradictory  qualities,  and  thefe  will  ever  fliow  themfelves  ia 
firange  fuccefiion,  where  a  confiftency  in  appearance  at  leaft,  if  not  in  reality,  has  not  been  attain 
ed  by  loag  habits  of  philofophical  difcipline.  In  proportion  to  the  native  vigour  of  the  mind,  the 
contradictory  qualities  will  be  the  more  prominent,  and  more  difficult  to  be  adjufted ;  and  therefore 
we  are  not  to  wonder,  that  Johnfon  exhibited  an  eminent  example  of  this  remark  which  I  have  made 
upon  human  nature.  At  different  times  he  feemed  a  different  man,  in  fome  refpefls ;  not,  however, 
in  any  great  or  effential  article,  upon  which  he  had  fully  employed  his  mind  and  fettled  certain  princi 
ples  <'f  duty,  but  only  in  his  manners,  and  in  difplays  of  argument  and  fancy  in  his  talk.  He  was 
prone  to  fuperftition,  but  not  to  credulity.  Though  his  imagination  might  incline  him  to  a  belief 
ef  the  marvellous  and  the  myfterious,  his  vigorous  reafon  examined  the  evidence  with  jealoufy.  He 
was  a  fincere  and  zealous  Chriftian  of  high  Church  of  England  and  monarchical  principles,  which 
he  would  not  tamely  fufftr  to  he  queftioned  ;  and  had  perhaps,  at  an  early  period,  narrowed  his 
mind  fomewhat  too  much,  both  as  to  religion  and  politics.  His  being  impreffed  with  the  danger  of 
extreme  latitude  in  either,  though  he  was  of  a  very  independent  fpirit,  occafioned  his  appearing  fome- 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  827 

what  unfavourable  to  the  prevalence  of  that  noble  freedom  of  fentiment  which  is  the  beft  pofTsffion 
of  man.  Nor  can  it  be  denied,  thar  he  had  many  prejudices ;  which,  however,  frequently  fuggeft- 
•ed  many  of  his  pointed  fayings,  that  rather  (how  a  playfulnefs  of  fancy  than  any  fettled  malignity. 
He  was  fleady  and  inflexible  in  maintaining  the  obligations  of  religion  and  morality,  both  from 
a  regard  for  the  order  of  fociety,  and  from  a  veneration  for  the  Great  Source  of  all  order;  correct, 
nay  ftern  in  his  tafte  ;  hard  to  pleafe,  and  eafily  offended ;  impetuous  and  irritable  in  his  temper, 
but  of  a  moft  humane  and  benevolent  heart,  which  fhowed  itfelf  not  only  in  a  moil  liberal  chari 
ty,  as  far  as  his  circumftances  would  allow,  but  in  a  thoufand  inftances  of  adtive  benevolence.  He 
was  affli&ed  with  a  bodily  difeafe  which  made  him  reftlefs  and  fretful,  and  with  a  constitutional 
melancholy,  the  cloud*  ef  which  darkened  the  brightnefs  of  his  fancy,  and  gave  a  gloomy  caft  to 
his  whole  ceurfe  of  thinking  :  we  therefore  ought  not  to  wonder  at  his  fallics  of  impatience  and 
pufiion  at  any  time,  efpecially  when  provoked  by  obtrufive  ignorance  or  prefuming  petulance ;  and 
allowance  muft  be  made  for  his  uttering  hafty  and  fatirical  fallies,  even  againft  his  beft  friends. 
And  furely,  when  it  is  confidered,  that  "  amidft  ficknefs  and  forrow,"  he  exerted  his  faculties  in  fa 
many  works  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  and  particularly  that  he  achieved  the  great  and  admir 
able  Duftionsry  of  our  language,  we  muft  be  aftonifhed  at  his  refolution.  The  folcmn  text  of 
"  him  to  whom  much  is  given,  much  will  be  required,"  feems  to  have  been  ever  prefent  to  his 
mind  in  a  rigorous  fenfe,  and  to  have  made  him  diffatisfied  with  his  labours  and  adls  of  goodneft, 
however  comparatively  great ;  fo  that  the  unavoidable  confcioufnefs  of  his  fuperiority  was  in  that 
refpe<ft  a  caufe  of  difquiet.  He  fuffered  fo  much  from  this,  and  from  the  gloom  which  perpetually 
haunted  him,  and  made  folitude  frightful,  that  it  may  be  faid  of  him,  "  If  in  this  life  only  he  had 
hope,  he  was  of  all  men  moft  miferable."  He  loved  praife  when  it  was  brought  to  him  ;  but 
was  too  proud  to  feck  for  it.  He  was  fomewhat  fufceptible  of  flattery.  As  he  was  general  and 
unconfined  in  his  ftudies,  he  cannot  be  confidered  as  matter  of  any  one  particular  fcience  ;  but  he 
had  accumulated  a  vaft  and  various  collection  of  learning  and  knowledge,  which  was  fo  arranged 
in  his  mind,  as  to  be  ever  in  readinefs  to  be  brought  forth.  But  his  fuperiority  over  other  learn 
ed  men  confifted  chiefly  in  what  may  be  called  the  art  of  thinking,  the  art  of  ufing  his  mind  ;  a 
certain  continual  power  of  feizing  the  ufeful  fubftance  of  all  that  he  knew,  and  exhibiting  it  in  a 
clear  and  forcible  manner ;  fo  that  knowledge  which  we  often  fee  to  be  no  better  than  lumber  ia 
men  of  dull  underftanding,  was  in  him  true,  evident,  and  atflual  wifdom.  His  moral  precepts  arc 
practical;  for  they  are  drawn  from  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  human  nature.  His  maxims 
carry  convidlian  ;  for  they  are  founded  on  the  bafts  of  common  fenfe.  His  mind  was  fo  full  of 
imagery,  that  he  might  have  been  perpetually  a  poet ;  yet  it  is  remarkable,  that  however  rich  his 
profe  is  in  that  refpe<5t,  the  poetical  pieces  which  he  wrote  were  in  general  not  fo,  but  rather 
Arong  fentiment  and  acute  obfervation,  conveyed  in  good  verfe,  particularly  in  heroic  couplets. 
Though  ufually  grave  and  even  awful  in  his  deportment,  he  poffeffed  uncommon  and  peculiar  pow 
ers  of  wit  ?nd  humour  :  he  frequently  indulged  himfclf  in  colloquial  pleafantry  ;  and  the  heartfelt 
merriment  was  often  enjoyed  in  his  company ;  with  this  great  advantage,  that  as  it  was  entirely 
free  from  any  poifonous  tili&ure  of  vice  or  impiety,  it  was  falutary  to  thofc  who  fhared  in  it.  He 
had  accuftomed  himfelf  to  fuch  accuracy  in  his  common  converfation,  that  he  at  all  times  delivered 
kimfelf  with  a  force,  choice,  and  elegance  of  expreffion,  the  effeft  of  which  was  aided  by  his  having  a 
Joud  voice,  and  a  flow  and  deliberate  utterance.  He  united  a  moft  logical  head  with  a  moft  fertile  ima 
gination,  which  gave  him  an  extraordinary  advantage  in  arguing ;  for  he  could  reafon  clofe  or 
wide,  as  he  favv  beft  for  the  moment.  Exulting  in  his  intellectual  ftrength  and  dexterity,  he  could, 
when  he  pleafed,  be  the  greateft  Xophift  that  ever  contended  in  the  lifts  of  declamation  ;  and  from 
a  fpirit  of  contradiction,  and  a  delight  in  {hewing  his  powers,  he  would  often  maintain  the  wrong  fide 
with  equal  warmth  and  ingenuity  :  fo  that  when  there  was  an  audience,  his  real  opinions  could  fel- 
dom  be  gathered  from  his  talk  ;  though  when  he  was  in  company  with  a  fingle  friend  he  would 
difcufs  a  fubjeiSl  with  genuine  fairnefs.  But  he  was  too  confcientious  to  make  error  permanent  and 
pernicious,  by  deliberately  writing  it;  and  in  all  his  numerous  works,  he  earneftly  inculcated  what 
appeared  to  him  to  be  the  truth.  His  piety  was  coaliant,  and  was  the  ruling  principle  of  ail  his 


Xj3  THE   LIFE    OF   JOHNSON. 

conduct ;  and  the  more  we  confider  hi*  chara&cr,  we  ihall  be  the  more  dupofed  to  regard  him 
with  admiration  and  reverence." 

His  character  as  given  by  Mrs.  Piczzi  in  her  "  Anecdotes"  i»  drawn  with  fpirit  and  propriety  j 
though  fomewhat  lefs  favourably. 

"  His  ftature  was  remarkably  high,  and  his  limbs  exceedingly  large  :  his  (Irength  was  more  than 
common  I  believe,  and  his  a&ivity  had  been  greater,  I  have  heard,  than  fuch  a  form  gave  one  reafon 
to  expeS  :  his  features  were  ftrongly  marked,  and  his  countenance  particularly  rugged  ;  though  the 
original  complexion  had  certainly  been  fair,  a  cireumftance  fomewhat  unufual :  his  fight  was  near, 
and  otherwife  imperfect ;  yet  his  eyes,  though  of  a  light-gray  colour,  were  fo  wild,  fo  piercing,  and 
at  times  fo  fierce,  that  fear  was,  I  believe,  the  firft  emotion  in  the  hearts  of  all  his  beholders.  Hit 
mind  was  fo  comprehenfivc,  that  no  language  but  that  he  ufed  could  have  txpreffed  its  contents :  and 
fo  ponderous  was  his  language,  that  fentiments  lefs  lofty  and  lefs  folid  thaa  his  were,  would  have 
been  encumbered,  not  adorned  by  it. 

"  Mr.  Johnfon  was  not  intentionally,  however,  a  pompous  converfer ;  and  theugh  he  was  accufed  of 
ufing  big  words,  as  they  are  called,  it  was  only  when  little  ones  could  not  exprefs  his  meaning  as 
clearly,  or  when,  perhaps,  the  elevation  of  the  thought  would  have  been  difgraccd  by  a  dref*  lefs 
fuperb.  He  ufed  to  fay,  "  that  the  fize  of  a  man's  undcrftanding  might  always  be  juftly  meafured 
by  his  mirth  ;"  and  his  own  was  never  contemptible.  He  would  laugh  at  a  flroke  of  genuine  hu- 
jnour,  or  fudden  fally  of  odd  abfurdity,  as  heartily  and  freely  as  I  ever  yetfaw  any  man  ;  and  though 
the  jeft  was  often  fuch  as  few  felt  befides  himfelf,  yet  his  laugh  was  irrefiftible,  and  was  obferved 
immediately  to  produce  that  of  the  company,  not  merely  from  the  notion  that  it  was  proper  to 
laugh  when  he  did,  but  purely  out  of  want  of  power  to  forbear  it.  He  was  no  enemy  to  fplendeur 
of  apparel,  or  pomp  of  equipage.  "  Life,"  he  would  fay,  "  is  barren  enough,  furely,  with  all  her 
trappings ;  let  us  therefore  be  cautions  how  we  ftrip  her." 

"  Of  Mr.  Johnfon's  erudition  the  world  has  been  the  judlge ;  and  we  who  produce  each  a  fcore  o£ 
hit  faying*,  as  proofs  of  that  wit  which  in  him  was  inexhauftible,  referable  travellers,  who,  having  v J- 
fitcd  Deihi  or  Golconda,  bring  home  each  a  handful  of  oriental  pearl,  to  evince  the  riches  of  the 
Great  Mogul. 

"  As  his  pnrfe  was  ever  open  to  alms-giving,  fo  was  his  heart  tender  to  thofe  who  wanted  relief, 
and  his  foul  fufceptible  of  gratitude,  and  of  every  kind  impreffion ;  yet,  though  he  had  refined  his 
fenfibility,  he  had  not  endangered  his  qukt,  by  enconragiug  in  himfelf  a  folicitude  about  trifles,  which 
be  treated  with  the  contempt  they  deferve. 

"  Mr.  Johnfon  had  a  roughncfs  in  his  manner  which  fubdued  the  faucy,  and  terrified  the  meek  : 
this  was,  when  I  knew  him,  the  prominent  part  of  a  character  which  few  durft  venture  to  approach 
fo  nearly,  and  which  was  for  that  reafon  in  many  refpeds  grofsly  and  frequently  miftaken  ;  and  it 
was,  perhaps,  peculiar  to  him,  that  the  lofty  confcioufnefs  of  his  own  fnperiority,  which  animated 
his  looks,  and  raifed  his  voice  in  eonverfation,  caft  likewife  an  impenetrable  veil  over  him  when  he 
laid  nothing.  His  talk,  therefore,  had  commonly  the  complexion  of  arrogance,  his  filence  of  fifpcr- 
cilioufnefs.  K  He  was,  however,  feldom  inclined  to  be  fileat  when  any  moral  or  literary  queftion  was 
darted;  and  it  was  on  fuch  occafions  that,  like  the  fagc  in  Ro/elat>  he  fpoke,  and  attention  watched 
his  lips :  he  reafoned,  and  conviction  clofed  his  periods :  if  poetry  was  talked  of,  his  quotations  were 
the  readicft  ;  and  had  he  not  been  eminent  for  more  folid  and  brilliant  qualities,  mankind  would  have 
united  to  extol  his  extraordinary  memory.  His  manner  of  repeating  defervcs  to  be  defcribed,  though, 
at  the  fame  time,  it  defeats  all  power  of  defcription ;  but  whoever  once  heard  him  repeat  an  ode  of 
Horace,  would  be  long  before  they  could  endure  to  hear  it  repeated  by  another. 

"  His  equity  in  giving  the  character  of  living  acquaintance,  ought  not,  undoubtedly,  to  be  omit 
ted  in  his  own,  whence  partiality  and  prejudice  were  totally  excluded,  and  truth  alone  prefided  in 
his  tongue ;  a  fteadiacfs  of  conduct  the  more  to  be  commended,  as  no  man  had  ftronger  likings  or 
averCons.  His  vsrscity  was  indeed,  from  the  moft  trivial  to  the  moft  folrmn  occafions,  drift,  even 
to  feverity ;  he  fcorrt;d  to  embelMfli  a  l>ory  with  fiAitious  circumftances,  which  (he  ufed  to  fay), 
took  off  from  its  real  value.  "  A  ftory,"  fart  Johnfca, "  (houid  be  a  fpecimen  of  life  and  manners ; 


THE   LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  S20 

tut  if  the  furrounding  circumftances  are  falfe,  as  it  is  no  more  a  representation  of  reality,  it  is  no 
longer  worthy  our  attention." 

"  For  the  reft— -That  beneficence  which  during  his  life  increafed  the  comfort*  of  fo  many,  mar 
after  his  death  be,  perhaps,  ungratefully  forgotten  ;  but  that  piety  which  dictated  the  ferious  papers 
in  the  Rambler,  will  be  for  ever  remembered,  for  ever,  I  think,  revered.  That  ample  rcpofitory  of 
religious  truth,  moral  wifdoni,  and  accurate  criticifm,  breathes,  indeed,  the  gtnuine  emanations  of 
its  great  author's  mind,  exprcffcd,  too,  in  a  ftyle  fo  natural  to  him,  and  fo  much  like  his  common 
mode  of  converting,  that  1  was  niyfelf  but  little  aflonifhed  when  he  told  me  that  he  had  fcarcely  read 
over  one  of  thofe  inimitable  eflays  before  they  went  to  the  prefs. 

"  I  will  add  one  or  two  peculiarities  more  :  Though  at  an  immeafurable  diftance  from  content  in 
the  contemplation  of  his  own  uncouth  form  and  figure,  he  did  not  like  another  man  much  the  lefs 
for  being  a  coxcomb.  Though  a  man  of  obfcure  birth  himfelf,  his  partiality  to  people  of  family  was 
vifible  on  every  occafion ;  his  zeal  for  fubordination  warm  even  to  bigotry  ;  his  hatred  to  innova 
tion,  and  reverence  for  the  old  feudal  times,  apparent,  whenever  any  poCible  manner  of  fhowing 
them  occurred.  I  have  fpokcn  of  his  piety,  his  charity,  and  his  truth,  the  enlargement  of  his  heart, 
and  the  delicacy  of  hisfentiments;  and  when  I  fearch  for  (hadow  to  my  portrait,  none  can  I  find  but" 
what  was  formed  by  pride,  differently  modified  as  different  occafions  (howed  it ;  yet  never  was  pride 
fo  purified  as  Johnfon's,  at  once  from  meannefs  and  from  vanity.  The  mind  of  this  man  wss,  in- 
deed,  expanded  beyonJ  the  common  limits  of  human  nature,  and  ftored  with  fuch  variety  of  know-- 
kdge,  that  I  ufed  to  think  it  refembled  a  royal  plcafure-ground,  where  every  plant,  of  every  name 
and  nation,  flourifted  in  the  full  perfection  of  their  powers,  and  where,  though  lofty  woods  and 
falling  cataracts  firft  caught  the  eys,  and  fixed  the  earlieft  attention  of  beholders,  yet  neither  the 
trim  parterre,  nor  the  pleafing  (hrubbery,  nor  even  the  antiquated  evergreens,  were  denied  a  place 
in  fome  fit  corner  of  the  happy  valley." 

His  character,  as  given  by  Dr.  Towers,  in  his  "  Eflay,"  appears  to  have  been  written  under  no  iaj* 
prtflions  of  prepoffeffion  or  prejudice,  and  exhibits  a  very  commendable  degree  of  candour,  impar 
tiality,  and  precifion. 

*'  He  pofiefled  extraordinary  powers  of  underftanding,  which  were  much  cultivated  by  ftudy,  and 
ftill  more  by  meditation  and  reflection.  His  memory  was  remarkably  retentive,  his  imagination 
uncommonly  vigorous,  and  his  judgment  keen  and  penetrating.  He  had  a  ftrong  fenfe  of  the  im 
portance  of  religion  ;  his  piety  was  Cncerc,  and  fometimes  ardent ;  and  his  zeal  for  the  interefts  of 
virtue  was  often  manifefted  in  his  coflverfation  and  in  his  writings.  The  fame  energy  which  was 
difplayed  in  his  literary  productions,  was  exhibited  alfo  in  his  converfation,  which  was  var  ious,  ftrik- 
ing,  and  inftructive;  and,  perhaps,  no  man  ever  equalled  him  for  nervous  and  pointed  repartees. 

"  The  great  originality  which  fometimes  appeared  in  his  conceptions,  and  the  perfpicuity  and 
force  with  which  he  delivered  them,  greatly  enhanced  the  value  of  his  converfation,  and  the  re 
marks  that  he  delivered,  received  additional  weight  from  the  ftrength  of  his  voice,  and  the  folemni- 
ty  of  his  manner.  He  was  confcinua  of  his  own  fupeiiority  ;  and  when  in  company  with  literary 
men,  or  with  thofe  with  whom  there  was  any  poflibilky  of  rivalfliip  or  competition,  thisconfcioufnefs 
was  too  apparent.  With  inferiors,  and  thofe  who  readily  admitted  all  his  claims,  he  was  often  mild 
and  agreeable;  but  to  others,  fuch  was  often  the  arrogance  of  his  manners,  that  the  endurance  of  it 
required  no  ordinary  degree  of  patience.  He  was  very  dextrous  at  argumentation ;  and  when  hit 
reafonings  were  not  folid,  they  were  at  leaft  artful  and  plaufibie.  His  retorts  were  fo  powerful, 
that  his  friends  and  acquaintance  were  generally  cautious  of  entering  the  lifts  againft  him,  and  the 
ready  acquiefcence  of  thefe  with  whom  he  afTociated,  in  his  opinions  and  aflcrtions,  probably  render 
ed  him  more  dogmatic  than  he  might  otherwife  have  been.  With  thofe,  however,  with  whom  he 
lived,  and  with  whom  be  was  familiar,  he  was  fometimes  cheerful  and  fprightly,  and  fometimes  in, 
dulged  himfelf  in  failles  of  wit  and  pleafantry.  He  fpent  much  of  his  time,  efpecially  his  latter  year*, 
in  converfation,  and  feems  to  have  had  i'uch  an  averfion  to  being  left,  without  company,  as  was 
fometimes  extraordinary  in  a  man  poffcflcd  of  fuch  intellectual  powers,  and  whofe  underftanding  had 
been  fo  highly  cultivated, 


25o  THENLIFE   OF  JOHNSON. 

"  He  fometimcs  difcovercd  much  impetuofity  of  temper,  and  was  too  ready  to  take  offence  aC 
•thers ;  but  when  conceffions  were  made,  he  was  eafily  appeafed.  For  thofe  from  whom  he  had  re 
ceived  kindnefs  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  he  feemed  ever  to  retain  a  particular  regard,  and  mani- 
fefted  much  gratitude  towards  thofe  by  whom  he  had  at  any  time  been  benefited.  He  was  foon  of 
fended  with  pertntfs  or  ignorance ;  but  he  fometimes  feemed  to  be  confcious  of  having  anfwered  the 
^ueftions  of  others  with  too  much  roughnefs,  and  was  thtn  defirous  to  difcover  more  gentlenefs  of 
temper,  and  to  communicate  information  with  more  fuavity  of  manners.  When  not  under  the  in 
fluence  of  perfonal  pique,  of  pride,  or  of  religious  or  political  prejudices,  he  feems  to  have  had  great 
ardour  of  benevolence,  and,  on  fome  occaiions,  he  gave  fignal  proofs  of  generofity  and  humanity. 

"  He  was  naturally  melancholy,  and  his  views  of  human  life  appear  to  have  been  habitually 
gloomy.  This  appears  from  his  Ra/elas,  and  in  many  paflages  of  his  writings.  It  was  alfo  a  ftriking 
part  of  the  character  of  Johnfon,  that  with  powers  of  mind  that  did  honour  to  human  nature,  he  had 
weaknefles  and  prejudices  that  feemed  fuited  only  to  the  loweft  of  the  fpecies.  His  piety  was  ftrong- 
ly  tinctured  with  fuperftition  ;  and  we  are  aftonifhed  to  find  the  author  of  the  Ramller  expreffing  fe- 
rious  concern,  becaufc  he  had  put  milk  into  his  tea  on  a  Good-Friday.  His  cuflom  of  praying  for 
the  dead,  though  unfupported  by  reafon  or  by  Scripture,  was  a  lefs  irrational  fuperftition.  Indeed, 
one  of  the  great  features  of  Johnfon's  character,  was  a  degree  of  bigotry,  both  in  politics  and  in  re 
ligion,  which  is  now  feldom  to  be  met  with  in  perfons  of  a  cultivated  underftanding.  Few  other 
inen  could  have  been  found  in  the  prefent  age,  whofe  political  bigotry  would  have  led  them  to  ftyle 
the  celebrated  John  Hampden  "  the  zealot  of  rebellion  ;"  and  the  religious  bigotry  of  the  man,  who, 
•when  at  Edinburgh,  would  not  go  to  hear  Dr.  Robertfon  preach,  becaufe  he  would  not  be  prefent  at 
a  Prefbyterian  aflembly,  is  not  eafily  to  be  paralleled  in  this  age  and  in  this  country.  His  habitual 
incredulity  with  refpect  to  facts,  of  which  there  was  no  reafonable  ground  for  doubt,  as  dated  by 
Mrs.  Piozzi,  and  which  wa»  remarked  by  Hogarth,  was  alfo  a  fingular  treat  in  his  character,  and 
efpecially  when  contrary  to  his  fnperftitious  credulity  on  other  occafions.  To  the  clofe  of  life  he  was 
not  only  occupied  in  forming  fchemes  of  religious  reformation,  but  even  to  a  very  late  period  of  it 
he  feems  to  have  been  felicitous  to  apply  himfelf  to  ftudy  with  renewed  diligence  and  vigour.  It  is 
remarkable,  that  in  liis  fixty-fourth  year,  he  attempted  to  learn  the  Low  Dutch  language,  and  in  his 
Cxty-feventh  year  he  made  a  refolution  to  apply  himfelf  vigoroufly  to  ftudy,  particularly  the 
Greek  and  Italian  tongues. 

"  The  faults  and  the  foibles  of  Johnfwn,  whatever  they  were,  are  now  defcended  with  him  to  the 
grave ;  but  his  virtues  fhculd  be  the  object  of  our  imitation.  His  works,  with  all  their  defects,  are  a 
moft  valuable  and  important  acceffion  to  the  literature  of  England.  His  political  writings  will  pro 
bably  be  little  read  on  any  other  account,  than  for  the  dignity  and  energy  of  his  ftyle  ;  but  his  Dic 
tionary,  his  moral  effays,  and  his  productions  in  polite  literature,  will  convey  ufeful  inftructions  and 
elegant  entertainment,  as  long  as  the  language  in  which  they  are  written  mall  be  underftood,  and 
give  him  a  juft  claim  to  a  diftinguifhed  rank  among  the  Left  and  ableil  writers  that  England  has 
produced." 

The  eftimate  of  his  literary  character  given  by  Mr.  Murphy  in  his  "  Effay"  is,  with  a  very  few 
exceptions,  fair,  candid,  and  juft.  He  fometimes  admits  his  errors  and  fometimes  endeavours  to 
apologize  for  them.  His  comparifon  between  Johnfon  and  Addifon  is  excellent ;  and  though  long, 
is  of  too  much  value  to  be  withheld. 

«'  Like  Milton  and  Addifon,  Dr.  Johnfon  feems  to  have  been  fond  of  his  Latin  poetry.  Thofe  com- 
pafitions  fhow  that  he  was  an  early  fcholar ;  but  his  verfes  have  not  the  graceful  eafe  that  gave  fo 
much  fuavity  to  the  poems  of  Addifon.  The  tranflation  of  the  Mefliab  labours  under  two  difad- 
•vantages;  it  is  firft  to  be  compared  with  Pope's  inimitable  performance,  and  afterwards  with  the 
Pollio  of  Virgil.  It  may  appear  trifling  to  remark,  that  he  has  made  the  letter  o,  in  the  word  Vir- 
£o,  long  and  fhort  in  the  fame  line ;  Virgo,  Virgo  parit.  But  the  tranflation  has  great  merit,  and 
fome  admirable  lines.  In  the  Odes  there  is  a  fweet  flexibility,  particularly  To  bis  Worthy  Friend  Lr 

iaurcacc,  on  Himfdf  at  fa  Tbetfrt,  Mai'di  8,  J7/I,  the  Qft  in  the  Ifis  tf  Sky,  and  thftt  to  Mn 
from  the  feme  place. 


THE  LIFE   OF  JOHNSON.  83« 

"  His  Engiifh  poetry  Is  fuch  as  leaves  room  to  think,  if  he  had  devoted  himfelf  to  the  Mufes,  that 
he  would  have  been  the  rival  of  Pope.  His  firft  production  in  this  kind  was  London,  a  poem,  in  imi 
tation  of  the  third  fatire  of  Juvenal  The  vices  of  the  metropolis  are  placed  in  the  room  of  ancient 
manners.  The  author  had  heated  his  mind  with  the  ardour  of  Juvenal,  and,  having  the  fldll  to  po- 
Jifli  his  numbers,  he  became  a  fharp  accufer  of  the  times.  The  Vanity  of  'Human  Wifia  is  an  imita 
tion  of  the  tenth  fatire  of  the  fame  author.  Though  it  is  tranflated  by  Dryden,  Johnfon's  imitation 
approaches  neareft  to  the  fpirit  of  the  original. 

"  What  Johnfon  has  faid  of  the  Tragedy  of  Cato,  may  be  applied  to  Irene  :  "  It  is  rather  a  poem 
in  dialogue  than  a  drama ;  rather  a  fucceffion  of  juft  fentiments  in  ekgant  language,  than  a  re- 
prefentation  of  natural  affections.  Nothing  excites  or  affoages  emotion.  The  events  are  expefl- 
ed  without  folicitude,  and  are  remembered  without  joy  or  forrow.  Of  the  agents  we  have  no  care  ; 
we  confider  not  what  they  are  doing,  nor  what  they  are  fuffering ;  we  wifh  only  to  know  what 
they  have  to  fay.  It  is  unarming  elegance,  and  chill  philofophy." 

"  The  prologue  to  Irene  is  written  with  elegance,  and,  in  a  peculiar  ftrain,  fhows  the  literary  pride 
and  lofty  fpirit  of  the  author.  The  epilogue,  we  are  told  in  a  late  publication,  was  written  by  Sir 
William  Yonge.  This  is  a  new  difcovery,  but  by  no  means  probable.  When  the  appendages  t« 
a  dramatic  performance  are  not  afiigned  to  a  friend,  or  an  unknown  hand,  or  a  perfon  of  fafhion, 
they  are  always  fuppofed  to  be  written  by  the  author  of  the  play.  It  is  to  be  wifhed,  however,  that 
the  epilogue  in  qneftion  could  be  transferred  to  any  other  writer.  It  is  the  worft  Jeu  d'Efprit  that 
ever  fell  from  Johnfon's  pen. 

"  Of  his  mifcManeous  trails  and  fbildogical  d'l/eriaiions,  it  will  fuffice  to  fay,  they  are  the  pro- 
dufiiens  of  a  man  who  never  wanted  decorations  of  language,  and  always  taught  his  reader  to  think. 
The  life  of  tie  lati  King  of  PrvJJia,  as  far  as  it  extends,  is  a  model  of  the  biographical  ftyle.  The 
review  of  the"  Origin  of  Evil"  was,  perhaps,  written  with  afperity ;  but  the  angry  epitaph,  which  it 
provoked  from  Soame  Jenyas,  was  an  ill-timed  refentment,  unworthy  of  the  genius  of  that  amiable 
author. 

"  The  Rambler  may  be  confidered  as  Johnfon'*  great  work.  It  was  the  bafis  of  that  high  repu 
tation  which  went  on  increafing  to  the  end  of  his  days.  In  this  collection,  Johnfon  is  the  great  mo 
ral  teacher  «f  his  countrymen  ;  his  effays  form  a  body  of  ethics ;  the  obfervations  on  life  and  manners 
are  acute  and  inftru&ive;  and  the  papers,  profeffedly  critical,  ferve  to  promote  the  caufe  of  litera 
ture.  It  muft,  however,  be  acknowledged,  that  a  fettled  gloom  hangs  over  the  author's  mind ;  and 
all  the  effays,  except  eight  or  ten,  coming  from  the  fame  fountain-head,  no  wonder  that  they  have 
the  racinefs  of  the  foil  from  which  they  fprung.  Of  this  uniformity  Johnfon  was  fenfible.  He  ufed 
to  fay,  that  if  he  had  joined  a  friend  or  two,  who  would  have  been  able  to  intermix  papers  of  a 
fprightly  turn,  the  collection  would  have  been  more  mifcellanecus,  and  by  confequence,  more  agree 
able  to  the  generality  of  readers. 

"  It  is  remarkable  that  the  pomp  of  diction,  which  has  been  objected  to  Johnfon,  was  firft  affum- 
«d  in  the  Gambler.  His  Difi'wnary  was  going  on  at  the  fame  time,  and  in  the  courfe  of  that  work, 
as  he  grew  familiar  with  technical  and  fcholaftic  words,  he  thought  that  the  bulk  of  his  readers 
•were  equally  learned,  or  at  leafl  would  admire  the  fplendour  and  dignity  of  the  ftyle.  And  yet  it 
is  well  known,  that  he  praifed  in  Cowley  the  eafe  and  unaffected  ftructure  of  the  fentences.  Cow- 
ley  may  be  placed  at  the  head  of  thofe  who  cultivated  a  clear  and  natural  ftyle.  Dryden,  Tillot- 
fon,  and  Sir  William  Temple,  followed.  Addifon,  Swift,  and  Pope,  with  more  correctnefs,  carried 
our  language  well  nigh  to  perfection."  "  Of  Addifon,  Johnfon  wag  ufed  to  fay,  he  is  the  Raphael  of, 
«ffay  writers.  How  he  differed  fo  widely  from  fuch  elegant  models,  is  a  problem  not  to  befolved.uniefc 
it  be  true  that  he  took  an  early  tincture  from  the  writers  of  the  laft  century,  particularly  Sir  Thomas 
Brown. — Hence  the  peculiarities  of  his  ftyle,  new  combinations,  fentences  of  an  unulual  ftructure,  and 
words  derived  from  the  learned  languages.  His  own  account  of  the  matter  is,  "  when  common  words 
were  lefs  pleafmg  to  the  car,  or  lefs  diftinft  in  their  fignifkation,  I  familiarized  the  terms  of  philofo 
phy,  by  applying  them  to  popular  ideas."  But  he  forgot  the  obfervation  of  Dryden  :  Iftoomanyftreig* 
•uordt  arefoured  in  upon  at,  it  leaks  as  if  they  ii-tre  defi^ntlt ;;;•/  k  affifl  tie  natives,  but  to  fsm/utr  tbsm-  Th.CH 


fj»  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

i«,  it  muft  be  admitted,  a  fwell  of  language,  often  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  fentiment ;  bnt  there  is, 
in  general,  a  fulncfs  of  mind,  and  the  thought  feems  to  expand  with  the  found  of  the  words.    Deter 
mined  to  difcard  colloquial  barbarians  and  licentious  idioms,  he  forgot  the   elegant  fi.nplicity  that 
Uiftinguifhcs  the  writings  of  Addifon.     He  had  what  Locke  calls  a  round-about  view  of  his  lubjecft  ; 
and,  though  he  was  never  tainted  like  many  modern  wits,  with  the  ambition  of  (hilling  in  the  pa 
radox,  he  maybe  fairly  called  an  original  thinker.     His  reading  was  eitenfive.     He  treafured  in  hi* 
jnind  whatever  was  worthy  of  notice;  but  he  added  to  it  from  his  own  meditation.     He  colle&ed, 
quir  rccondtrt*,  afldque  promeret.     Addifon  was  not  fo   profound  a  thinker.      He  was  born  to  write, 
converfe,  and  live  with  eafe  ;  and  he  found  an  early  patron  in  Lord  Somers.     He  depended,  how 
ever,  more  upon  a  fine  taftg,  than  the  vigour  of  his  mind.    His  Latin  poetry  (hows,  that  he  relifhed, 
with  a  juft  feledion,  all  the  refined  and  delicate  beauties  of  the  Roman  dailies;  and  when  he  cul. 
tivated  his  native  language,  no  wonder  that  he  formed  that  graceful  ftyle,  which  has  been  io  juftly 
admired;  fimple,  yet  elegant;   adorned,  yet  never  over-wrought ;   licli  iti   allufiuii,   yet  pure  and 
perfpicuous  :  correct,  without  labour,  and,  though  fometimes  deficient  in  ftrengih.   yet  always  mu- 
fical.    His  effays,  in  general,  are  on  the  furfacc  of  life  ;  if  ever  original,  it  was  in  pieces  of  humour. 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverly,  and  the  Tory  Fox  hunter,  need  not  be  mentioned.     Johnfon  had  a  fund  of 
humour  but  he  did  not  know  it ;  nor  was  he  willing  to  defcend  to  the  familiar  idiom  and  the  variety 
of  di<3ion  which  that  mode  of  compofuion  required.     The  letter,  in  the  Rambler,  No.  i  a.  from  a 
young  girl  that  wants  a  place,  will  illuftrate  this  obfervation.     Addifon  poffcflcd  an  unclouded  ima 
gination,  alive  to  the  firlt  objedls  of  nature  and  of  art.    He  reaches  the  fublime  without  any  appa 
rent  effort.     When  he  tells  us,  "  if  we  confider  the  fixed  ftars  as  fo  many  oceans  of  dame,  that  are 
each  of  them  attended  with  a  different  fet  of  planet* ;  if  we  ftill  difcover  new  firmaments  and  new 
lights,  that  arc  funk  further  in  thofe  unfathomable  depths  of  aether,  we  are  loft  in  a  labyrinth  of  iun* 
and  worlds,  and  confounded  with  the  magnificence  and  immeiifity  of  nature  ,"  the  cafe  with  which 
this  paffage  rifes  to  an  unaffedcd  grandeur,  is  the  fccret  charm  that  captivates  the  reader.  Johnfon 
is  always  lofty ;  he  feems  to  ufe  Dry  J-ni's  phrafe,  to  be  o'er-infortn'd  with  meaning,  and  his  word* 
do  Dot  appear  to  himfelf  adequate  to  his  conception.    He  moves  in  Hate,  and  his  periods  are  always 
harmonious.    His  Oriental  Tales  are  in  the  true  ftyle  of  eaftern  magnificence,  and  yet  none  of  them 
are  fo  much  admired  as  the  Vifions  of  Mirza.    In  matters  of  criticifm,  Johnfon  is  never  the  echo  of 
preceding  writers.     He  thinks  and  decides  for  himfelf.     If  we  except  theEffays  on  the  Pleafures  of 
Imagination,  Addifon  cannot  be  called  a  philofophical  critic.     His  Moral  Effay<  are  beautiful ;  but 
in  that  province  nothing  can  exceed  the  Rambler  ;   though  Johnfon  ufed  to  fay,  that  the  efTays  on 
the  burdens  of  mankind   (in  the   Spectator,  No.  558)  was  the  moft  exquifirc  he  had  ever  read. 
Talking  of  himfelf,  Johnfon  faid,  "  fopham   Beauclerk  has  wit,  and  every  thing  comes  from  him 
with  cafe  ;   but  when  I  fay  a  good  thing,  I  feem  to  labour."    When  we  compare  him  with  A  difon, 
the  contraft  is  ftill  ftronger.     Addifon  lends  grace  and  ornament  to  truth  ;  Johnfon  gives  it  force 
and  energy.    Addifon  makes  virtue  amiable  ;  Johnfon  rcprefents  it  as  an  awful  duty.     Addifon  in- 
inmates  himfelf  with  an  air  of  modefty ;  Johnfon  commands  like  a  dictator  ;  but  a  didator  in  hi* 
fplendid  robes,  not  labouring  at  his  plough.     Addifon  is  thu  Jupiter  of  Virgil,  with  placid  ferenity 
talking  to  Venus, 

"  Vultu,  quo  calum  tempeftateftjue  ferenat." 

Johnfon  is  Jupiter  tanans :  he  darts  his  lightning,  and  rolls  his  thunder,  in  the  caufe  of  virtue  and 
piety.  The  language  feems  to  fall  fhort  of  his  ideas;  he  pours  along,  familiarifmg  the  terms  of 
philofophy  with  bold  inverfions  and  fonorous  periods ;  but  we  may  apply  to  him  what  Pope  hat 
faid  of  Homer  :  "  it  is  the  fentiment  that  fwells  and  fills  out  the  diction,  which  rifes  with  it,  and  form* 
itfelf  about  it ;  like  glafs  in  the  furnace,  which  grows  to  a  greater  magnitude,  as  the  breath  within 
is  more  powerful,  and  the  heat  more  intenfe." 

••  The  effays  written  by  Johnfon  in  the  "  Adventurer,"  may  be  called  a  continuation  of  the  Pamt* 
Imr.  The  Idler,  in  order  to  be  confident  with  the  affumed  character,  is  written  with  abated  vigour, 
in  a  ftyle  of  eaje  and  unlaboured  elegance.  It  if  the  Odyffey  after  the  Iliad.  Intenfe  thinking 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.  «J3 

would  not  become  the- Idler.  The  firft  number  prefents  a  well- drawn  portrait  of  an  idler;  and  from 
tfhat  character  no  deviation  could  be  made.  Accordingly  Johnfon  forgets  his  aufi.cre  manner,  and 
plays  us  into  fenfe.  He  (till  continues  his  lectures  on  human  life  ;  but  he  adverts  to  common  oc 
currence,  and  is  often  content  with  the  topic  of  the  day.  This  account  of  the  Idler  may  be  clofed,  af 
ter  obfcrving,  that  the  author's  mother  being  buried  on  the  S3d  of  January  1759,  there  is  an  admi 
rable  paper,  occafioned  by  that  event,  on  Saturday  the  3/th  of  the  fame  month,  No.  41.  The  read 
er,  if  he  pleafes,  may  compare  it  with  another  fine  paper  in  the  Rambler,  No.  41,  on  the  conviction 
that  rufhcs  on  the  mind  at  the  bed  cf  a  dying  friend. 

"  Ra/elas,"  fays  Sir  John  Hawkins,  "  is  a  fpecimen  of  our  language  fcarcely  to  be  paralleled ;  it  is 
written  in  a  ftyle  refined  to  a  degree  of  immaculate  purity,  and  difplays  the  whole  force  of  turgid  elo 
quence."  One  cannot  but  fmile  at  this  encomium.  RaiTclas  is  undoubtedly  both  elegant  and  fub- 
lime.  Ft  is  a  view  of  human  life,  difplayed,  it  muft  be  owned,  in  gloomy  colours.  The  author'* 
natural  melancholy,  depreffed  at  the  time  by  the  approaching  diffulution  of  his  mother,  darkened 
the  picture.  A  tale  that  fliould  keep  curiofity  awake  by  the  artifice  of  unexpected  incidents,  was 
not  the  defign  of  a  mind  pregnant  with  better  things.  He  who  reads  the  heads  of  the  chapters,  will 
find  that  it  is  not  a  courfe  of  adventures  that  invites  him  forward,  but  a  difcuflion  of  interesting 
queftiom ;  Reflections  on  Human  Life  ;  the  Hiflory  of  Imlac,  the  Man  of  Learning ;  a  Differtation 
upon  Poetry;  the  Character  cf  a  Wife  and  Happy  Man,  who  difcourfes  with  energy  on  the  go 
vernment  of  the  paffions,  and  on  a  fudden,  when  death  deprives  him  of  his  daughter,  forgets  all  hi* 
maxims  of  wifdom,  and  the  eloquence  that  adorned  them,  yielding  to  the  ftroke  of  affliction  with 
all  the  vehemence  of  the  bittereft  anguifh.  It  is  by  pictures  of  life,  and  profound  moral  reflection, 
that  expectation  is  engaged  and  gratified  throughout  the  work.  The  Hiflory  of  the  Mad  Aftrono- 
mer,  who  imagines  that  for  five  years  he  pofieiTed  the  regulation  of  the  weather,  and  that  the  fun 
pafled  from  tropic  to  tropic  by  his  direction,  repreftnts  in  ftriking  colours  the  fad  effects  of  a  diftem- 
pered  imagination.  It  becomes  the  more  affecting,  when  we  recollect  that  it  proceeds  from  one 
who  lived  in  fear  of  the  fame  dreadful  vifitation ;  from  one  who  fays  emphatically,  "  Of  the  uncer 
tainties  in  our  prefent  flate,  the  moft  dreadful  and  alarming  is  the  uncertain  continuance  of  reafon." 
The  inquiry  into  the  caufe  of  madnefs,  and  the  dangerous  prevalence  of  imagination,  till  in  time 
fomc  particular  train  of  ideas  fixes  the  attention,  and  the  mind  recurs  conftandy  to  the  favourite 
conception,  is  carried  on  in  a  {train  of  acute  obfervation;  but  it  leaves  us  room  to  think  that  the  au 
thor  was  tranfcribing  from  his  own  apprchenfions.  The  difcourfe  on  the  nature  of  the  foul  gives 
us  all  that  philofophy  knows  ;  not  without  a  tincture  of  fuperftition.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  va 
nity  of  human  purfuits  was,  about  the  fame  time,  the  fubject  that  employed  both  Johnfon  and  Vol 
taire  ;  but  Candide  is  the  work  of  a  lively  imagination,  and  Raffelas,  with  all  its  fplendour  of  elo 
quence,  exhibits  a  gloomy  picture, 

"  The  Difiimary,  though  in  fome  inftances  abufe  has  been  loud,  and  in  others  malice  has  en 
deavoured  to  undetern-.ine  its  fame,  ftill  remains  the  Mount  Atlas  cf  Englifh  literature. 

Though  ftorms  and  tempefts  thunder  on  its  brow, 
And  ocean's  break  their  billows  at  its  feet, 
It  ftands  unmov'd,  and  glories  in  its  height. 

"  That  Johnfon  was  eminently  qualified  for  the  ofilce  of  a  commentator  on  S&okfpeare,  no 
man  can  doubt ;  but  it  was  an  office  which  he  never  cordially  embraced.  The  public  expected 
more  than  he  had  diligence  to  perform ;  and  yet  his  edition  has  been  the  ground  on  which  every 
fubfequent  commentator  has  chofe  to  build.  The  general  obfervations  at  the  end  of  the  feveral 
play?,  with  great  elegance  and  precifion,  give  a  fummary  view  of  each  drama.  The  preface  is  a 
tract  of  great  erudition  and  philofophical  criticifm. 

«'  ]o\m(orC'3  political  pamphlets,  whatever  was  his  motive  for  writing  them,  whether  gratitude  for 
his  penfion,  or  the  felicitation  of  men  in  power,  did  not  fupport  the  caufe  for  which  they  were  un 
dertaken.     They  are  written  in  a  ftyle  truly  harmonious,  and  with  his  ufual  dignity  of  language. 
.  When  it  is  faid  that  he  advanced  pofitions  repugnant  to  tie  ctmmon  rights  of  mankind,  the  virulence  of 
party  may  be  fufpected.    It  U,  perhaps,  true,  that  in  the  clamour  raifed  throughout  the  kingdom, 
VOL.  XI.  3  G 


8j4  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON. 

Johnfon  over-heated  his  mind  ;  but  he  was  a.  friend  to  the  rights  of  man,  and  he  was  greatly  fupe- 
rior  to  the  littlenefs  of  fpirit  that  might  incline  him  to  advance  what  he  did  not  think  and  firmly 
believe. 

"  The  account  cf  his  Journey  to  tie  Hebrides  or  Weftern  Ifles  of  Scotland,  is  a  model  for  fuch  as 
fhall  hereafter  relate  their  travels.  The  author  did  not  vifit  that  part  of  the  world  in  the  charac 
ter  of  an  antiquary,  to  amufe  us  with  wonders  taken  from  the  dark  and  fabulous  ages ;  nor  as  a 
mathematician,  to  meafure  a  degree,  tnd  fettle  the  longitude  and  latitude  of  the  ieveral  iflands. 
Thpfe  who  expected  fuch  information,  expected  what  was  never  intended. 

In  every  work  regard  the  writer's  end. 

Johnfon  went  to  fee  men  and  manners,  mode-  of  life,  and  the  progrefs  of  civilization.  His  remarks 
are  fo  artfully  blended  with  the  rapidity  and  elegance  of  his  narrative,  that  the  reader  is  inclined  t« 
wifh,  as  Johnfon  did  with  regard  to  Gray,  that  to  travel,  and  to  tell  bis  travels,  bad  teen  more  of  Lit  cmfloy~ 
mcnt, 

"  We  come  now  to  the  Lives  oftb?  Poets,  a  work  undertaken  at  the  age  of  feventy,  yet  the  moft 
brilliant,  and  certainly  the  moil  popular  of  all  our  author's  writings..  For  this  performance  he 
needed  little  preparation.  Attentive  always  to  the  hiftory  of  letters,  and  by  his  own  natural  bia» 
fond  of  biography,  he  was  the  n.ore  willing  to  embrace  the  propofition  of  the  bookfellers.  He 
was  verfed  in  the  whole  body  of  the  Englifti  poetry,  and  his  rules  of  criticifm  were  fettled  with  pre- 
cifion.  The  fact*  are  rela'^d  upon  the  beft  intelligence,  and  the  beft  vouchers  that  could  be  glean 
ed,  after  a  great  lapfe  cf  time.  Probability  was  to  be  inferred  from  fuch  materials  as  could  be 
procured,  and  no  man  better  underftood  the  nature  of  hiftorical  evidence  than  Johnfon;  n  >  maa 
was  more  religioufly  an  obferver  of  truth.  Jf  his  hiftory  is  anywhere  defective,  it  muft  be  im 
puted  to  the  want  of  better  information,  Jnd  the  errors  of  uncertain  tradition. 

Ad  nos  vix  tenuis  famae  prelabitur  aura. 

If  the  ftrifiures  on  ths  works  of  the  various  authors  are  not  always  fatisfactory,  and  if  erroneous 
criticiim  may  fometimes  be  fufpccted,  who  can  hope,  that  in  matters  of  tafte  all  fhali  agree  ?  The 
inftances  in  which  the  public  mind  has  differed  from  the  pofuions  advanced  by  the  author,  are  few 
in  number.  It  has  been  faid,  that  juflice  has  not  been  done  to  Swift;  that  Gay  and  Prior  are  un 
dervalued;  and  that  Gray  has  been  harfhly  treated.  This  charge,  perhaps,  ought  not  to  be  dif- 
puted.  Johnfon,  it  is  veil  known,  had  conceived  a  prejudice  aj>ainft  Swift.  His  friends  trem 
bled  for  him  when  he  was  writing  that  life,  but  were  pleafed,  at  laft,  to  fee  it  executed  with  tem 
per  and  moderation.  As-to  Prior,  it  is  probable  that  he  gave  his  real  opinion,  but  an  opinion  that 
will  not  be  adopted  by  men  of  lively  fancy.  With  regard  to  Gray,  when  he  condemns  the  apo- 
ftrophe,  in  which  Father  Thames  is  defired  to  tell  who  drives  the  hoop  or  toffes  the  ball,  and  then 
adds,  that  Father  Thames  had  no  better  means  of  knowing  than  himfelf;  when  he  compares 
the  al.rupt  beginning  of  the  firft  ft.nza  of  the  "  Bard"  to  the  ballad  of  "  J  >hnny  Armftong," 
"  is  there  ever  a  man  in  all  Scotland;"  there  are,  perhaps,  few  friends  of  Johafon,  who  would  rot 
wifh  to  blot  out  both  the  paffages." 

The  following  quotation  from  Horace  is  given  by  Mr.  Murphy  as  containing  Johnfon's  picture 
in  miniature* 

"  Iracundior  efl  paulo  minus  aptus  scutis 
*              Nai  Ibus  horum  hominum,  rideri  pofiit,  eo  quid 
Rufticius  toi.f •< ;.  ga  defluit,  tt  male  laxus 
In  pede  calceu*  l:xret.     At  eft  bonus,  ut  melior  vir 
Non  alius  qi.ifquam  ;  at  tibi  amicus,  at  ingeiuum  ingens 
Inculto  latet  hoc  fub  corpore." — : 

His  moral  and  literary  character  has  been  delineated  by  Mifs  Seward  the  poctefs  of  Litchfield, 
in  the  "  European  Magazine"  for  1785,  with  equal  accuracy  of  difcrimination  and  ftrength  of 
colouring. 

"  Dr.  Johnf'  n's  learning  and  knowledge  were  deep  and  univerfal..  His  conception  was  fo  clear, 
and  his  iutelk&ual  ftores  were  marfhalled  with  fuch  precifion,  that  bis  ftyle  in  common  convcrfa- 


THE  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON.  «35 

tion  equalled  that  of  his  moral  effays.  Whatever  charge  of  pedantic  ftiffnefs  may  have  been  brought 
againft  thofe  efiays,  by  prejudice,  or  by  perfonal  refentment,  they  are  certainly  not  lefs  fuperior  ta 
all  other  Englifh  compofitions  of  that  fort,  in'  the  happy  fertility  and  efflorefcence  of  imagination, 
harmony  of  period,  and  luminous  arrangement  of  ideas,  than  they  are  in  ftrength  of  expreffion,  and 
force  of  argument.  His  Latinifms,  for  which  he  has  been  much  cenfured,  have  extended  the  limits 
ef  our  native  dialect,  befides  enriching  its  founds  with  that  fonorous  fweetnefs,  which  the  inter 
mixture  of  words  from  a  more  harmonious  language  muft  neceffarily  produce;  I  mean  in  general, 
for  it  cannot  be  denied  that  they  fometimes  deform  the  Juhnfonian  page,  though  they  much  oftencr 
adorn  it.  His  London  is  a  very  brilliant  and  nervous  fatiric  poem,  and  his  Vanity  of  Human  Wifiis 
appears  to  me  a  much  finer  fatire  than  the  bed  of  Pope's.  Perhaps  its  poetic  beauty  is  not  excelled 
by  any  compofition  in  heroic  rhyme  which  this  country  can  boaft,  rich  as  fhe  is  in  that  fpecies  of 
Writing.  As  a  moralift,  Dr.  Johnfon  was  refpectable,  fplendid,  fublime ;  but  as  a  critic,  the  faults 
of  his  difpofition  have  difgraced  much  of  his  fine  writings  with  frequent  paradox,  unprincipled  mif- 
reprefentation,  mean  and  needlefs  expofure  of  bodily  infirmities  (as  in  the  life  of  Pope),  irreconcile- 
able  contradictions,  and  with  decifions  of  the  laft  abfurdity.  Dr.  Johnfon  had  ftrong  affections  where, 
literary  envy  did  not  interfere;  but  that  envy  was  of  fuch  deadly  potency,  as  to  load  his  converfa- 
tion,  as  it  has  loaded  his  biographic  works,  with  the  rancour  of  party  violence,  with  national  aver- 
ilon,  bitter  farcafm,  and  unchriftian-like  invective.  It  is  in  vain  to  defcant  upon  the  improbability 
that  Dr.  Johnfon,  under  the  confcioufnefs  of  abilities  fo  great,  and  of  a  fame  fo  extenfive,  fhould  en 
vy  any  man,  fince  it  is  more  than  improbable,  it  is  wholly  impoffible,  that  an  imagination  fo  fub 
lime,  and  a  judgment  fo  correct,  on  all  abftraet  fubjedts,  mould  decide  as  he  has  decided  upon  the 
works  of  fomtt  who  were  at  leaft  his  equals,  and  upon  one  who  is  yet  greater  than  himfelf;  Dr. 
Johnfon  was  a  furious  Jacobite  while  one  hope  for  the  Stuart'  line  remained ;  and  his  politics,  al 
ways  leaning  towards  defpotifm,  were  inimical  to  liberty,  and  the  natural  rights  of  mankind.  He 
was  punctual  in  his  devotions;  but  his  reb'gious  faith  had  much  more  of  bigot-fiercencfs  than  of 
that  gentlenefs  which  the  gofpel  inculcates.  To  thofc  who  had  never  entered  the  literary  confines, 
or,  entering  them,  had  paid  him  the  tribute  of  unbounded  praife  and  total  fubjection,  he  was  an  af 
fectionate  and  generous  friend,  foothing  in  his  behaviour  to  them,  and  active  in  promoting  their  do- 
meftic  comforts;  though,  in  fome  fpleenful  moments,  he  could  not  help  (peaking  diirefpedfully 
both  of  their  mental  powers  and  of  their  virtues.  His  pride  was  infinite ;  yet,  amidft  all  the  over 
bearing  arrogance  it  produced,  his  heart  melted  at  the  fight,  or  at  the  reprefentation,  qf  difeafe  and 
poverty;  and,  in  the  hours  of  affluence,  his  purfe  was  ever  open  to  relieve  them.  In  feveral  ia- 
ftances  his  affections  feemed  unaccountably  engaged  by  people  of  whofe  difpofition  and  abilities  he 
fcrupled  not  to  fpeak  contemptuoufly  at  all  times,  and  in  all  humours.  To  fuch  he  often  devoted, 
and  efpecially  of  late  years,  a  large  portion  of  that  time  which  might  naturally  be  fuppafed  to  have 
been  precious  to  him,  who  fo  well  knew  how  to  employ  it.  When  his  attention  was  called  to  mo 
dern  writings,  particularly  if  they  were  celebrated,  and  not  written  by  any  of  his  "  little  fenate," 
he  generally  liftened  with  angry  impatience.  "  No,  Sir,  I  (hall  not  read  the  book,"  was  his  com 
mon  reply.  He  turned  from  the  compofitions  of  rifing  genius  with  a  vifible  horror,  which  too 
plainly  proved,  that  envy  was  the  bofom  furpent  of  this  literary  defpot,  whofe  life  had  been  unpol 
luted  by  licentious  crimes,  and  who  had  fome  great  and  noble  qualities,  accompanying  a  ftupendou$ 
reach  of  underftanding." 

His  character,  as  a  poetical  biographer,  has  been  given  by  his  townfman  Dr.  Newton  in  his  poll- 
humous  work,  not  perhaps  with  his  powers,  but  with  his  decifion  and  feverity  of  cenfure. 

"  Dr.  Johnfon's  Lives  of  the  Poets  afford  much  amufement,  but  candour  was  hurt  and  offended 
at  the  malevolence  that  preponderated  in  every  part.  Never  was  any  biographer  more  fparing  of 
his  praifes,  or  more  abundant  in  his  cenfures.  He  delights  more  in  expofing  blemime«,  than  in 
recommending  beauties ;  flightly  paffes  over  excellencies,  enlarges  upon  imperfections ;  and,  not 
comenrwith  his  own  fevere  reflections,  revives  old  fc^ndal,  and  produces  large  quotations  from 
the  long-forgotten  works  of  former  critics.  The  panegyrift  of  Savage  in  his  yonth,  may,  in  his 

3G  ij 


836  THE    LIFE   OF    JOHNSON. 

Tild  age,  become  the  fatirift  of  the  moft  favoured  authors,  his  encomium  as  unjaft  and  undefervcd 

as  his  cenfures." 

The  teflimony  of  the  claflical  editor  of  Milton  may  be  compared  with  the  eulogy  pronounced 
by  Dr.  Parr,  the  learned  and  eloquent  editor  of  "  Bellendenu*"  in  his  edition  of  "  Traces  by  War- 
burton  and  a  Warburtonian." 

"  Of  literary  m«rit,  Johnfon,  as  we  all  know,  was  a  fagacious  but  a  moft  fevere  judge.  Such  was 
his  difcerntnent,  that  he  pierced  into  the  moft  fecret  fprings  of  human  adlions ;  and  fuch  was  his 
integrity,  that  he  always  weighed  the  moral  characters  of  his  fellow  creatures  in  the  balance  o.f- 
the  fanduary." 


THE  WORKS  OF  JOHNSON. 


POEMS. 


tONDON:  A  POEM. 

IN    IMITATION    OF    THE    THrRD    SATIRE    OF 
JUVENAL,    1738. 

"  — —  Qiiis  inepfas 

"  Tarn  patiens  urbis,  tam  ferreus  ut  teneat  fe  ?" 

juv. 

(a)  l  HOUGH  grief  and  fondnefs  in  my  breaft  rebel 
When  injur'd  Thales  bids  the  town  farewel, 
Yet  flill  my  calmer  thoughts  his  choice  commend, 
I  praife  the  hermit,  but  regret  the  friend, 
Refolv'd  at  length,  from  vice  and  London  far, 
To  breathe  in  diftant  fields  a  purer  air. 
And,  fix'd  on  Cambria's  folitary  ihore, 
Give  to  St.  David  one  true  Britain  more. 

(£)  For  who  wou'd  leave,  unbrib'd,  Hibernia's 

-    land, 

Or  change  the  rocks  of  Scotland  for  the  Strand  ? 
There  none  are  fvvept  by  fudden  fate  away, 
But  all  whom  hunger  fpares,  with  age  decay  : 
Here  malice,  rapine,  accident,  confpircj 
And  now  a  rabble  rages,  now  a  fire  ; 
Their  ambufh  here  relentlels  ruffians  lay, 
And  here  the  fell  attorney  prowls  for  prey ; 
Here  falling  houfes  thunder  bri  your  head, 
And  here  a  female  atheift  talks  you  dead. 

(c)  While  Thales  waits  the  wherry  that  contains 
Of  diflipated  •wealth  the  fmall  remains, 
On  Thame's  banks,  in  filent  thought  we  flood, 
Where  Greenwich  fmiles  upon  the  filver  flood ; 
Struck  with  the  feat  that  gave  Eliza  *  birth, 
We  kneel,  and  kifs  the  confccrated  earth  ; 

JUV.  SAT.  III. 

(<r)  Quamvis  digreflu  veteris  confufis  amici ; 
Laudo,  tamen,  vacuis  quod  fedem  figere  Cumis 
Deftinet,  atque  unum  civem  donare  Sibyllas. 

{b)  Ego  vel  Prochytam  praepono  Suburrae, 

Nam  quid  tam  miferum,  tam  folum  vidimus,  ut  non 
Beterius  credas  horret'e  incendia,  lapfus 
Tedtorum  affiduos,  et  mille  pericula  fsevae 
Urbis,  et  Augufto  recitantes  menfe  poetas  ? 

(c)  Sed,  dum  tola  domus  rheda  componitur  una, 
Subftitit  ad  veteres  arcus.       »    - 

*  ^ueen  Elizabeth ,  barn  at  Cretnivict, 


In  pleafing  dreams  the  blifsful  age  renew, 
And  call  Britannia's  glories  back  to  view ; 
Behold  her  crofs  triumphant  on  the  main, 
The  guard  of  commerce,  and  the  dread  of  Spain, 
Ere  mafquerades  debauch'd,  excife  opprefs'd, 
Or  Englifh  honour  grew  a  {binding1  jeft. 

A  tranfient  calm  the  happy  fcenes  beftow, 
And  for  a  moment  lull  the  fenfe  of  woe. 
At  length  awaking,  with  contemptuous  frown, 
Indignant  Thales  eyes  the  neighb'ring  town. 

(d]  Since  worth,  he  cries,  in  thefe  degen'rate  day$ 
Wants ev'n  the  cheap  reward  of  empty  praife; 
In  thofe  curs'd  walls,  devote  to  vice  and  gain, 
Since  unrewarded  fcience  toils  in  vain  ; 
Since  hope  but  fooths  to  double  my  diftrefs, 
And  ev'ry  moment  leaves  my  little  lefs; 
While  yet  my  fteady  fleps  no  (?)  ilafffuflains, 
And  life  ftill  vig'rous  revels  in  my  veins; 
Grant  me,  kind  Heaven,   to   find  fome  happier 

place, 

Where  honefty  and  fenfe  are  no  difgrace ; 
Some  pleafsng  bank  where  verdant  ofiers  play, 
Some  peaceful  vale  with  nature's  paintings  gayj 
Where  once  the  harafs'd  Briton  found  repore, 
And  fafe  in  poverty  dcfy'd  his  foes : 
Some  fecret  <?ell,  ye  pow'rs,  indulgent  give, 
(f)  Let  —  live  here,  for  —  has  Jearn  d  to  live. 
Here  let  thofe  reign,  whom  penfions  can  incite 
To  vote  a  patriot  black,  a  courtier  whke  ; 
Explain  their  country's  dear-bought  rights  away, 
And  plead  for  *  pirates  in  the  face  of  day ; 

(d)  Hie  tune  Umbricius :  O^uando  artibus,  in- 

quit,  honeflis 

Nullus  in  urbe  locus,  nulla  emolumenta  laborum, 
Res  hodie  minor  eft,  heri  quani  i'uit,  atque  eaden* 

eras 

Deteret  exiguis  aliquid :  proponimus  illuc 
Ire,  fatigatas  ubi  Dsedalus  exuit  alas; 
Dum  nova  canines 

(e)  — — et  pedibus  me 

Porto  ivieis,  nullo  dextram  fubeunte  bacillo. 

(f)  Cedamus  patria  :  vivant  Arturius  iftic  [tunt, 
Et  Catulus :  maneant  qui  nigrum  in  Candida  vcr" 

*  The  in-vafions  of  the  Spaniards  -wtre  defended  in 
tie  toujet  of  parliament, 

3G  iij 


83* 


THE  WORKS 


With  flavifh  tenets  taint  our  poifon'd  youth, 
And  lend  a  lie  the  confidence  of  truth. 

( ^)  Let  fuch  raife  palaces,  and  manors  buy, 
Colled  a  tax,  or  farm  a  lottery ; 
With  warbling  eunuchs  fill  our  *  filenc'd  ftage, 
And  lull  to  fervitude  a  thoughtlefs  age.        [hold  ? 

Heroes,  proceed  !  what  bounds  your  pride  fhall 
What  check  reftrain  your  thirft  of  pow'r  and  gold  ? 
Behold  rebellious  virtue  quite  o'ei  thrown, 
Behold  cur  fame,  our  wealth,  our  lives  your  own. 

To  fuch,  the  plunder  of  a  land  is  giv'n, 
When  public  crimes  inflame  the  wrath  of  heav'n  : 
(b)  But  what,  my  friend,  what  hope  remains  for 

me, 

Who  flart  at  theft,  and  blufh  at  perjury  ? 
Who  fcarce  forbear,  though  Britain's  court  he  fing, 
To  pluck  a  titled  pott's  horrow'd  wing ; 
A  ftaicfman's  logic  unconvinc'd  can  hear, 
And  dare  to  flumber  o'er  the  f  Gazetteer ; 
Defpife  a  fool  in  half  his  penfion  drefs'd, 
And  ftrive  in  vain  to  laugh  at  Clodio's  jeft. 

(;')  Others  with  fofter  fmiles,  and  fubtler  art, 
Can  fap  the  principles,  or  taint  the  heart ; 
With  more  addrefs  a  lover's  note  convey, 
Or  bribe  a  virgin's  innocence  away. 
Veil  may  they  rife,  while  I,  whofe  ruflic  tongue 
Ne'er  knew  to  puzzle  right,  or  varnifh  wrong, 
Spurn'd  as  a  beggar,  dreaded  as  a  fpy, 
l>ive  unregarded,  uniamented  die. 

(I)  For  what  but  foci  d  guilt  the  friend  endears  ? 
who  fhares  Orgilio's  crimes,  his  fortune  (hares. 
(/)  But  thou,  fhould  tempting  villany  prefent 
AH  Marlb'rough  hoarccd,  or  all  ViJ'iers  fpent, 
Turn  from  the  glitt'ring  bribe  thy  fcornful  eye, 
Nor  fell  for  gold,  what  gold  could  never  buy, 
The  peaceful  flumber,  felf-cpproving  day, 
Unfullied  fame,  and  confcience  ever  gay. 

(m)  The  cheated  nation's  happy  fav'rites,  fee  ! 
Mark  whom  the  great  carefs,  who  frown  on  me  ! 
^London  !  the  needy  villain's  gen'ral  home, 
The  common-fewer  of  Paris,  and  of  Rome ; 
With  eager  thirft,  by  folly  or  by  fate, 
Sucks  in  the  dregs  of  each  corrupted  ftate. 
Forgive  my  tranl'ports  on  a  theme  like  this, 
(»)  I  cannot  bear  a  French  metropolis. 

(jO  Queis  facile  eft  a;dem  conducere,  flumina, 

portus, 

Siccandam  eluvieni,portandum  ad  bufta  cadaver.—- 
Munera  nunc  edunt. 

(t~)  QuidRomae  faciam?  mentirinefcio:  librum, 
Si  malus  eft,  ncqueo  laudare  et  pofcere. — 

(i") Feire  ad  nuptas  quae  mittit  adulter, 

Qua:  mandat  norint  alii ;  me  nemo  miniftro 
Fur  erit,  atque  ideo  nulli  comes  exeo. 

(tj  Quis  nunc  diligitur  niii  confcius  ? 

Carus  ent  Verri,  qui  Vtrrem  tempore,  quo  vult, 
Accufare  poteft.— 

(ij  Tanti  tibi  non,  fit  opaci  [rum, 

Omnis  arena  Tagi,  quodquc  in  mare  volvitur  au- 
Ut  fomno  careas.— 

(CT)  Qux  nunc  di vitibus  gens  acceptiffima  noftris, 
Et  quos  prsecipue  fugiam,  properabo  fateri. 

(n}               Non  poffum  ferre,  Quirites, 
Graecam  urbem 

*   Tie  iicenfirg  a&  "was  lien  lately  made. 

•f-  The  fafir  vb'ub  at  t!>st  time  contained  apdogies 
for  tit  cturtt 


OF  JOHNSON; 

(o)  Illuftrious  Edward !  from  the  realms  of  day, 
The  land  of  heroes  and  of  faints  furvey ; 
STor  hope  the  Britifh  lineaments  to  trace, 
The  ruftic  grandeur,  or  the  furly  grace, 
But  loft  in  thoughtlefs  eafe,  and  empty  fhow, 
Dehold  the  warrior  dwindled  to  a  beau; 
feenfe,  freedom,  piety,  refin'd  away, 
Of  France  the  mimic,  and  of  Spain  the  prey. 

All  that  at  home  no  more  can  beg  or  fteal, 
Dr  like  a  gibbet  better  than  a  wheel; 
Hifs'd  from  the  ftage,  or  hooted  from  the  court, 
Their  air,  their  drefs,  their  politics  import ; 
(p)  Obfequious,  artful,  voluble  and  gay, 
On  Britain's  fond  credulity  they  prey. 
No  gainful  trade  their  induftry  can  'fcape, 
(q)  They  fing,  they  dance,  clean  fhoes,  or  cure  a 

clap: 

All  fciences  a  falling  Monfieur  knows, 
And  bid  him  go  to  hell,  to  hell  he  goes. 

(r)  Ah  !  what  avails  it,  that,  from  flav'ry  far, 
I  drew  the  breath  of  life  in  Englifh  air; 
Was  early  taught  a  Briton's  right  to  prize, 
And  lifp  the  tale  of  Henry's  victories ; 
If  the  gull'd  conqueror  receives  the  chain, 
And  flattery  prevails  when  arms  are  vain  ? 

(s)  Studious  to  pleafe,  and  ready  to  fubmit, 
The  fupple  Gaul  was  Born  a  parafite : 
Still  to  his  int'rcft  true,  where'er  he  goes, 
Wit,  brav'ry,  worth,  his  laviih  tongue  btftows; 
In  ev'ry  face  a  thoufand  graces  fhine, 
From  ev'ry  tongue  flows  harmony  divine. 
(t)  Thefe  arts  in  vain  our  rugged  natives  try, 
Strain  out  with  fault'ring  diffidence  a  lie, 
And  get  a  kick  for  awkward  flattery. 

Beiides,  with  juftice,  this  difcerning  age 
Admires  their  wond'rous  talents  for  the  ftage : 
(»)  Well  may  they  venture  on  the  mimic's  art, 
Who  play  from  morn  to  night  a  borrow'd  part; 
Practis'd  their  mafter's  notions  to  embrace, 
Repeat  his  maxims,  and  refl^cl  his  face ; 
With  ev'ry  wild  abfurdity  comply, 
And  view  its  objed  with  another's  eye ; 
To  fhake  with  laughter  ere  the  jeft  they  hear, 
To  pour  at  will  the  counterfeited  tear  ; 
And  as  their  patron  hints  the  cold  or  heat, 
To  fhake  in  Dog-days,  in  December  fweat. 

(«•)  How,  when  competitors  like  thefe  contend, 
Can  iuriy  virtue  hope  to  fix  a  friend? 

(0}  Rufticus  ille  tuus fumit  trechedipna,  Ouireni, 
Et  ceromutico  fert  niciteria  collo. 

(f}  Ingenium  velox,  audacia  pcrdita,  fermo 
Promptus. 

(l)  •AuSur>  fchoenobates,  medicus,  magus :  om- 

nia  novit, 
Grasculus  efuriens,  in  ccelum,  jufleris,  ibit.  [coelum 

(r)  Ufque  adeo  nihil  eft,  quod  noftra  infantia 
Haufit  Aventini  ? <— 

(f)  Quid!    quod  adolandi  gens  prudentiffima, 

laudat 
Sermonem  indodii,  faciem  deformis  amici  ? 

(t)  Hasc  eadem  licet  et  nobis  laudare  :  fed  illis 
Creditur. 

(u)  Natio  comoeda  eft.  Ride*  ?  majore  cachinne 
Concutitur,  &c. 

(iv)  Non  fumus  ergo  pares :  melior,  qui  feinpcr 

et  omni 
Node  dkque  poteft  alienum  fumere  vultum, 


I 


P    0    E 


S. 


Slaves  that  with  fcrious  impudence  beguile, 
And  lie  without  a  blufli,  without  a  Fmile  ; 
Exalt  each  trifle,  ev'ry  vice  adore, 
Your  tafte  in  Ihuff,  your  judgment  in  a  whore ; 
Can  Balbo's  eloquence  applaud,  and  fwear 
He  gropes  his  breeches  with  a  monarch's  air. 

For  arts  like  thele  preferr'd,  admir'd,  carefs'd, 
They  firft  invade  your  table,  then  your  bread; 
(«)  Explore  your  fecrets  with  infiduous  art, 
Watch  the  weak  hour,  and  ranfack  all  the  heart ; 
Then  ibon  your  ill-plac'd  confidence  repay, 
Commence  your  lords,  and  govern  or  betray. 

(y)  By  numbers  here  from  fliame  or  cenfure  free, 
All  crimes  are  fafe  but  hated  poverty. 
This,  only  this,  the  rigid  law  purfues, 
This,  only  this,  provokes  the  fnarling  mufe. 
The  fober  trader  at  a  tatter'd  cloak, 
Wakes  from  his  dream,  and  labours  for  a  joke  ; 
With  brifker  air  the  filken  courtiers  gaze, 
And  turn  the  varied  taunt  a  thoufand  ways, 
(z)  Of  all  the  griefs  that  harafs  the  diftrefs'd ; 
Sure  the  moft  bitter  is  a  fcornful  jeft; 
Fate  never  wounds  more  deep  the  gen'rous  heart, 
Than  when  a  blockhead's  infult  points  the  dart. 
•  (a)  Has  Heaven  referv'd,  in  pity  to  the  poor, 
No  pathlefs  wafte,  or  undifcover'd  fhore  ? 
No  fecret  ifland  in  the  boundlefs  main  ? 
No  peaceful  defert  yet  unclaim'd  *  by  Spain  ? 
Quick  let  us  rife,  the  happy  feats  explore, 
And  bear  oppreflion's  infoleiice  no  more. 
This  mournful  truth  is  ev'ry  where  confefs'd, 
(£)   SI<nv  rifes  worth,  by  poverty  deprefi'd  : 
But  here  more  flow,  where  all  are  flaves  to  gold, 
Where  looks  are  merchandife,  and  fmiles  are  fold; 
Where  won  by  bribes,  by  flatteries  implor'd, 
The  groom  retails  the  favours  of  his  lord.      [cries 
But  hark  !  th'   affrighted  crowd's  tumukuous 
Roll  through  the  ftreets,  and  thunder  to  the  fkics  : 
Rais'd  from  fame  pleating  dream  of  wealth  and 

pow'r, 

Some  pompous  palace,  or  fome  blifsful  bow'rv 
Aghaft  you  ftart,  and  fcarce  with  aching  f;ght 
Suftain  the  approaching  fire's  tremendous  light ; 
Swift  from  purfuing  horrors  take  your  way, 
And  leave  your  little  all  to  flames  a  prey ;   [roam, 
(c)  Then  through  the  world  a  wretched  vagrant 
For  where  can  ftarving  merit  find  a  home  ?. 

A  facie  jadtare  manus :   laudarc  paratus, 

Si  bene  rucftavit,  fi  rectum  rriinxit  amicus. 

(x)  Scire  volunt  fecreta  domus  afque  hide  timeri. 

(y)  iVIatericra  praebet  canfaique  jocorum 

Omnibus  hie  idem  ?  fi  icedaet  fcifla  lacerna,  &c. 

(z)  Nil  habet  infelix  paupertas  durius  in  ie, 
Quam  quod  ridiculos  homines  tacit. 

(a~)  Agmine  iaclo, 

Debuerant  olim  tanues  migrafie  Quirites.     [obftat 

(£)  Haud  facile  emcrgunt,  quorum   virtutibus 
Res  angufta  domi,  fed  Romai  durior  illi* 

Conatus. 

•    Omnia  Romas 


Cogimur,  et  cultis  augere  peculia  fervis. 

(c)  Ukimus  autem  ffm 

JErnmnx.  cumulus,  quod  nudum,  et  fruftra  rogan- 
Nemo  cibo,  nemo  hofpitio,  tec?.oque  juvub  t. 

*  Tic  Spaniards  at  this  time  ivtrtjjidte  make  cltlm 
ttfitae  'of  ear  American  frovintes. 


In  vain  your  mournful  narrative  difclofe, 
While  all  nsglecl,  and  moft  infult  your  woes. 
(d)  Should  Heaven's  juft  bolts  Orgilio's  wealth 

confound, 

And  fpread  his  flaming  palace  on  the  ground, 
Swift  o'er  the  land  the  difmal  rumour  flies, 
And  public  mournings  pacify  the  fkies ; 
The  laureat  tribe  in  venal  verfe  relate, 
How  virtue  wars  with  perfecuting  fate; 
('«)  With  well  feign  *d  gratitude  the  penfion'd  band 
Refund  the  plunder  of  the  beggar'd  land. 
See  !  while  he  builds,  the  gaudy  vaflals  come, 
And  crowd  with  fudden  wealth  the  riling  dome; 
The  price  of  boroughs  and  of  fouls  reflore ; 
And  raife  his  treafures  higher  than  before: 
Now  blefs'd  with  all  the  baubles  of  the  great, 
The  polifh'd  marble,  and  the  fhining  plate, 
(/)  Orgilio  fees  the  golden  pile  afpire, 
And  hopes  from  angry  Heav'n  another  fire. 
(g)  Could'ft  thou  refign  the  park  and  play  con 
tent, 

For  the  fair  banks  of  Severn  or  of  Trent ; 
There  might'ft  thou  find  fome  elegant  retreat. 
Some  hireling  fenator's  dcfertcd  feat ; 
And  ftretch  thy  profpeds  o'er  the  Imiling  land, 
For  lefs  than  rent  the  dungeons  of  the  Strand  ; 
There  prune  thy  walks,    fupport    thy  drooping 

flow'rs, 

Direct  thy  rivulets,  and  twine  thy  bow'rs; 
And,  while  thy  grounds  a  cheap  repaft  afford, 
Defpife  the  dainties  of  a  venal  lord : 
There  ev'ry  bufli  with  nature's  mufic  rings, 
There  ev'ry  breeze  bears  health  upon  its  wings; 
On  all  thy  hours  fecunty  fhall  fmile. 
And  bkfs  thine  evening  walk  and  morning  toil. 

(£)  Prepare  for  death  if  here  at  night  you  roam, 
And  fign  your  will  before  you  fup  from  home. 
(;')  Some  fiery  fop,  with  new  commiflion  vain, 
Who  deeps  on  brambles  till  he  kills  his  man  ; 
Some  frolic  drunkard,  reeling  from  a  feaft, 
Provokes  a  broil,  and  flabs  you  for  a  jeft. 
(4)  Yet  ev'n  thefe  heroes,  mifchievoufly  gay, 
Lords  &i  the  ftreet,  and  terrors  of  the  way  ; 

(</)  Si  magna  Afturici  cecidit  domus,  horrid;* 

mater, 
Pullati  proceres. 

(?)  Jam  accurrit,  qui  marmora  donet, 

Conferet  impenfas  :  hie,  &c. 
Hie  modium  aigcnti. 

(/)  — — — — -Meliora,  ac  plura  reponit 
Perficus  orborum  lau:iflirr.u   — — 

(g)  Si  potes  arclli  Circenfibus,  optima  Sorae, 
Aut  Fabretariaj  domus,  aat  Fuliflone  paratur, 
Quanti  nunc  tenebras  unum  conducis  in  annum. 

Hortulus  hie. 

Vive  bidemis  amans,  et  culti  viliicus  horti, 
Unde  epulum  poflis  centum  dare  Pythagoreis. 

(b)  Poflis  ignavus  habcri, 

Et  fubiti  caAis  improvidus,  ad  ccenam  fi 

Intel!,  itus  eas. 

.    (»')  Ebrius  etpetulans,  qui  nullum  forte  cccidlt, 
Dat  p-xnas,  nocftem  patitnr  lugentis  amicura 


Sed,  quamvjs  improbus  annis, 


Atquc  :nero  fervens,  cavet  Ivinc,  qucm  cojci:u 
V  itari  jubet,  et  comitum  longiflimu»ordo, 
Jvlultum  prxterca  flammarum,  atque  anca  lampas. 
3  G  iiij 


THE   \V.O  RKS  OF  JOHNSON. 


Flufli'd  as  they  are  with  folly,  youth,  and  wine, 
Their  prudent  infults  to  the  poor  confine  ; 
Afar  they  mark  the  flambeau's  bright  approach, 
And  fiiun  the  ihining  train,  and  golden  coach. 
(/)  In  vain  thefe  dangers  paft,  your  doors  you 

clofe. 

And  hope  the  balmy  blefiings  of  repofe  : 
Cruel  with  guilt,  and  daring  with  defpair, 
The  midnight  inurd'rer  burfts  the  faithleiV  bar  ; 
Invades  the  facred  hour  of  filent  reft, 
And  leaves,  unieen,  a  dagger  in  your  breaft. 
(;«)  Scarce  can  our  fields,  luch  crowds  at  Ty 
burn  die^ 

With  htmp  the  gallows  and  the  fleet  fupply. 
Propofe  your  fchemes,  ye  fenatorian  band, 
Whofe  *  ways  and  means  fupport  the  finking  land  ; 
Left  ropes  be  wanting  in  the  tempting  fpring, 
To  rig  another  convoy  for  the  king  -f . 

(«)  A  (ingle  gaol,  in  Alfred's  golden  reign, 
•Could  halt  the  nation's  criminals  contain  ; 
Fair  juftice  then,  without  conftrair.t  ador'd, 
Held  high  the  fteady  fcale,  but  flieath'd  the  fword  ; 
No  fpies  were  paid,  no  ipecial  juries  known, 
Bleft  age  '.  but  ah  !  how  difi'rent  from  our  own  ! 
(o)  Much  could  I  add, — but  fee  the  boat  at  hand 
The  tide  retiring,  calls  me  from  the  land  : 
(/>)  Farewel  '•— When  youth,  and  health,  and  far- 
tune  fpeiit, 

Thou  flj'ft  for  refuge  to  the  wilds  of  Kent; 
And  tir'd  like  me  with  follies  and  with  crimes, 
In  angry  numbers  warn'ft  fucceeding  times, 
Then  fliall  thy  friend,  nor  then  refufe  his  aid, 
Still  foe  to  vice,  forfake  his  Cambrian  fhade; 
In  virtue's  caufe  once  more  exert  his  rage, 
Thy  fatire  point,  and  animate  thy  page. 

THE  VANITY  OF  HUMAN  WISHES, 

IN  IMITATION  OF  THE  TENTH  SATIRE  OF  JO- 
VENAL. 

LET|  obfervation  with  extcnfive  view, 
Survey  mankind,  from  China  to  Peru  ; 

(I)  Nee  tamen  hoc-tantum  metuas:  siam  qu 

fpoliet  te 
Non  rteerit :  claufis  domibus,  &c. 

(/•«)  Maximus  in  vinclis  ferri  modus ;   ut  ti- 

meas,  ne 
Vomer  deficiat,  re  mame  et  farcula  defint. 

(//)  Felices  proavorum  atavos,  felicia  dicas 
Secula,  quae  quondam  fub  regibus  atque  tribunis 
Viderunt  uno  contentam  carcer.e  Romam. 

(o)   His  alias  poteram,   et  pluries  fubne&er< 

caulas : 
Sed  jumenta  vocant. 

(j>)  £fgo  vale  noftri  memor:  et  quo 

ties  te 

Roma  tuo  refici  properantem  reddet  Aquino, 
Me  quoque  ad  Eleufmam  Cererem,  veftramqui 

Dianam 

Convelle  a  Cumis :  fatirarum  ego,  ni  pudet  illas, 
Adjutor  gelidos  veniam  caligatus  in  agros. 

*  A  cant  term  in  the  houfc  of  commons  for  me 
thods  of  raifing  money. 

t  Tbe nation  -was  dift on';ente.l at  tbc  1'ifiti  made 
t>y  the  king  to  Hano-ver* 
J  ftr.  i.~.n. 


emark  each  anxious  toil,  each  eager  ftrife> 
And  watch  the  bufy  fcenes  of  crouded  life ; 
Then  fay  how  hope  and  fear,  defire  and  hate, 
O'erfpread  with  Inares  the  clouded  maze  of  fate. 
Where  wav'ring  man,  betray 'd  by  vent'rous  pride, 
To  tread  the  dreary  paths  without  a  guide ; 
As  treach'rous  phantoms  in  the  milt  delude, 
huns  fancied  ills,  or  chafes  airy  good, 
-low  rarely  reafon  guides  the  ftubborn  choice, 
Rules  the  bold  "hand,  or  prompts  the  fuppliant 

voice. 

How  nations  fink,  by  darling  fchemes  opprefs'd, 
When  vengeance  liftensto  the  fool's  requett. 
Fate  wings  with  ev'ry  \vifli  th'  afflictive  dart, 
Each  gift  of  nature,  and  each  grace  of  art, 
With  fatal  heat  impetuous  courage  glows, 
With  fatal  fweetr.efs  elocution  flows, 
Impeachment  flops  the  fpeaker's  pow'rful  breatH, 
And  reftlefs  fire  precipitates  on  death. 

'  But  icarce  obierv'd,  the  knowing  and  the  bold, 
Fall  in  the  gen'ral  marlacre  of  gold  ; 
Wide-wafting  peft  !  that  rages  unconfin'd, 
And  crowds  with  crimes  the  recordset  mankind; 
For  gold  his  fword  the  hireling  ruffian  draws, 
For  gold  the  hireling  judge  diftorts  the  laws  ; 
Wealth   heap'd  on  wealth,  nor  truth  nor  fafety 

buy  s, 
The  dai'gers  gather  as  the  treafnres  rife. 

Let  hift'ry  tell  where  rival  kings  command, 
And  dubious  title  fhakes  the  madded  land, 
When  ftatutes  glean  the  refnfe  of  the  fword, 
How  much  more  fafe  the  vafial  than  the  lord  ; 
Low  fculks  the  hind  beneath  the  rage  of  pow'r, 
And  leaves  the  wealthy  traitor  in  the  Tow'r, 
Untouch'd  his  cottage,  and  his  (lumbers  found, 
Though  corififcatian's  vultures  hover  round. 

The  needy  traveller,  Terene  and  gay, 
Walks  the  wild  heath,  and  fings  his  toil  away. 
Dots  envy  leize  thee  ?  ctufli  th'  upbraiding  joy, 
Increafe  his  riches  and  his  peace  deflroy, 
Now  fears  in  dire  viciQitude  invade, 
The  ruftling  brake  alarms,  and  quiv'ring  fhade, 
Nor  light  nor  darknefs  bring  his  pain  relief, 
One  ftiows  the  plunder,  and  one  hides  the  thief. 

Yeif  ftill  one  gen'ral  cry  the  flues  affails, 
And  gain  and  grandeur  load  the  tainted  gales; 
Few  know  the  toiling  ftatefman's  fear  or  care, 
Th'  infidious  rival  and  the  gaping  Leir. 

Once  Jmore,  Democntus,  arife  on  earth, 
With  cheerful  wifdoin  and  inftruclive  mirth, 
See  motley  life  in  modern  trappings  drefs'd, 
And  feed  with  varied  fools  th'  eternal  jeft  : 
Thou  who  couldft  laugh  where  want  enchain'd  ca 
price, 

Toil  crufli'd  conceit,  and  man  was  ef  a  piece ; 
Where  wealth  unlov'd  without  a  mourner  dy'd; 
And  fcarce  a  fycophant  was  fed  by  pride; 
Where  ne'er  was  known  the  form  of  mock  debate, 
Or  feen  a  new-made  mayor's  unweildy  ftate; 
Where  change  of  fav'rites  made  no  change  of 

laws, 

And  fenates  heard  before  they  judg'd  a  caufe; 
Huw  wouldft  thou  fhake  at  Britain's  modifh  tribe. 
Dart  the  quick  taunt,  and  edge  the  piercing  gibe  J 


*  Vet:  12 
t  Ver.     . 


r<rr.  23 — 27. 


POEMS. 


Attentive  truth  and  nature  to  defcry, 
And  pitrce  each  fcene  with  phiiofophic  eye. 
To  thee  were  folemn  toys  w  empty  fliow, 
The  robes  of  pleafure  and  the  veils  of  woe  : 
All  aid  the  farce,  and  all  thy  mirth  maintain, 
Whofe  joys  are   caufelti's,  or  whole   griefs  are 
vain. 

Such  was  the  fcorn  that  fill'd  the  fage's  mind, 
Renew'd  at  every  glance  on  human  kind; 
How  juft  that  fcorn  ere  yet  thy  voice  declare, 
Search  every  ftate,  and  canvafs  ev'ry  pray'r. 

*  Unnumber'd  fuppliam's  crowd  preferment's 

gate, 

A  third  for  wealth,  and  burning  to  be  great ; 
Delufive  fortune  hears  th'  inceflant  call, 
They  mount,  they  fhine,  evaporate,  and  fall. 
On  ev'iy  ftage  the  foes  of  peace  attend, 
Hate  dogs  their  flight,  and  infill t  mocks  their  end. 
Love  ends  with  hope,  the  finking  ftatefman's  door 
Pours  in  the  morning  worfhipper  no  more  ; 
For  growing  names  the  weekly  fcribbler  lies, 
To  growing  wealth  the  dedicator  flies; 
From  ev'ry  room  defcends  the  painted  face, 
That  hung  the  bright  palladium  of  the  place, 
And  fmok'd  in  kitchens,  or  in  auctions  fold, 
To  better  features  yields  the  frame  of  gold  ; 
For  now  no  more  we  trace  in  ev'ry  line 
Heroic  worth,  benevolence  divine  : 
The  form  distorted  juftifies  the  fall, 
And  deUftation  rids  th*  indignant  wall. 

But  will  not  Britain  hear  the  laft  appeal, 
Sign  her  foes  doom,  or  guard  her  fav'rites  zeal? 
Through  freedom's  fons  no   more   icuaonlirance 

rings, 

Degrading  nobles  and  contrcmling  kings  ; 
Our  fupple  tribes  reprefs  their  patriot  throats, 
And  afk  no  queftions  but  the  price  of  votes ; 
"With  weekly  libels  and  feptennial  ale, 
Their  with  is  full  to  riot  and  to  rail. 

In  full-blown  dignity,  fee  Wolfey  ftand, 
Law  in  his  voice,  and  fortune  in  his  hand  : 
,To  him  the  church,  the  realm,  their  povv'rs  con- 
fig", 

Through  him  the  rays  of  regal  bounty  fliine, 
TurnVl  by  his  nod  the  ftream  of  honour  flows, 
His  fmilc  alone  fecurity  beftows: 
Still  to  new  heights  his  reftlcfs  wifhes  tow'r ; 
Claim  leads  to  claim,  and  pow'r  advances  pow'r; 
Till  conqueil  unrefifted  ceas'd  to  pleafe, 
And  rights  fubmitted,  left  him  none  to  feize. 
At  length  his  fov'reign  frowns— the  train  of  ftate 
Mark  the  keen  glance,  and  watch  the  fign  to  hate 
Where -e'er  he  turns  he  meets  a  ftranger's  eye, 
His  fuppliants  fcorn  him,  and  his  followers  fly  ; 
Now  drops  at  once  the  pride  of  awful  ftate, 
The  golden  canopy,  the  glitt'ring  plate, 
The  regal  palace,  the  luxurious  board, 
The  liv'ried  army,  and  the  menial  lord. 
With  age,  with  cares,  with  maladies  opprefs'd, 
He  feeks  the  refuge  of  monaftic  reft. 
Grief  aids  difeafe,  remember'd  folly  flings, 
And  his  laft  fighs  reproach  the  faith  of  kings. 

Speak  thou,  whofe  thoughts  at  humble  peace 

repine, 
Shall  Wolfey's  wealth.with  Wolfey's  end  be  thiae  ? 

*  Ver.  56. — 107. 


Or  liv'ft  thou  now,  with  fafer  prixle  content, 
The  wifeft  juftice  on  the  banks  of  Trent  ? 
For  why  did  Wolfey  near  the  lleeps  of  fate, 
On  weak  foundations  raife  th*  enormous  weight  ? 
Why  but  to  fink  beneath  misfortune's  blow, 
With  louder  ruin  to  the  gulfs  below  ? 

What   *  gave  grtat  Yilliers  to  the   aflaffin's 

knife, 

And  fix'd  difeafe  on  Harley's  clofing  life  ? 
What  murder'd  Wentworth,  and  what  exil'd  Hyde, 
By  kings  protected,  and  to  kings  ally'd  ? 
What  but  their  wilh  indulg'd  in  courts  to  fliine, 
And  pow'r  too  great  to  keep,  or  to  refign  ? 

When  f  firft  the  college  rolls  receive  his  name. 
The  young  enthufiaft  quits  his  eafe  for  fame  ; 
Refiftlefs  burns  the  fever  of  renown, 
Caught  from  the  ftrong  contagion  of  the  gown: 
O'er  Bodley's  dome  his  future  labours  fpread, 
And  }:  Bacon's  manfion  trembles  o'er  his  head. 
Are  thel'e  thy  views?  proceed,  illuftrious  youth, 
And  virtue  guard  thee  to  the  throne  of  truth ! 
Yet  fliould  thy  foul  indulge  the  gen'rous  heat, 
Till  captive  fcience  yields  her  laft  retreat ; 
Should  reafon  guide  thee  with  her  brighteft  ray, 
And  pour  ou  mifty  doubt  reliltleis  day  ; 
Should  no  falfe  kindnels  lure  to  loofe  delight> 
Nor  praife  relax,  nor  difficulty  fright  ; 
Should  tempting  novelty  thy  cell  refrain, 
And  flofh  effafe  her  opiate  fumes  in  vain  ; 
Should  beauty  blunt  on  fops  her  fatal  dart, 
Nor  claim  the  triumph  of  a  letter'd  heart ; 
Should  no  difeafe  thy  torpid  veins  invade, 
Nor  melancholy's  phantoms  haunt  thy  fliade  j 
Yet  hope  not  life  from  grief  or  danger  free, 
Nor  think  the  doom  of  man  revers'd  for  thee  : 
Deign  on  the  pafling  world  to  turn  thine  eyes, 
And  paufe  a  while  from  learning,  to  be  wife  ; 
There  mark  what  iils  the  fcholar's  life  afiail, 
Toil,  envy,  want,  the  patron,  and  the  jail. 
See  nations  flowly  wife,  and  meanly  juft, 
To  buried  merit  raife  the  tardy  bull. 
If  dreams  yet  flatter,  once  again  attend, 
Hear  Lydiat's  life$,  and  Galileo's  end. 

*  Ver.  IC-S.-.-H3.  f  Vcr.  114.— 132. 

\  There  is  a  tradition,  that  tbeftudy  of  Friar 
Bacon,  built  on  an  arch  over  the  bridge,  will  fall, 
when  a  man  greater  them  Bacon  Jball  pafs  un 
der  it. 

§  A  very  learned  divine  and  mathematician, 
fellow  of  New  College  Oxford,andreS:or  of  Okertox 
near  Banburv.  He  'wrote,  among  many  others,  a 
Latin  'frcatife  -De  Natura  Caeli,  &c.  in  which  be 
attacked  the  fentitnents  of  Scaliger  and  Ariftotle; 
not  bearing  to  hear  it  urged  that  fame  things  are 
true  in  philojophy  and  falfe  in  divinity.  He  made 
above  Jix  hundred  fermons  on  the  harmony  of  the 
JLvangeli/ls.  Be  ing  unfucc  efsful  in  publijbing  bis 
works,  he  lay  in  the  prifon  of  Bocardo  at  Oxford, 
and  the  King's-Beneb  ;  tillBiJbop  UJber,  Dr.  Laud, 
Sir  fVilliam  Bofwell,  and  Dr.  Pink,  releafed  him 
by  paying  his  debts.  He  petitioned  King  Charles  /. 
to  befent  into  Ethiopia,ifc.  to  procure  MSS.  Hav 
ing  fpoke  in  favour  of  monarchy  and  bijbops,  he 
was  plundered  by  the  parliament  forces,  a?td  twice 
carried  away  prifoner  from  his  reiiory ;  and  af 
terwards  bad  not  a  Jbirt  to  Jbift  him  in  three 


THE   WORKS   OF  JOHNSON. 


Nor  deem,  wfeen  learning  her  laft  prize  beftows, 
The  glitt'ring  eminence  exempt  from  foes ; 
See  when  the  vulgar  'fcapes,  defpis'd  or  aw'd, 
Rebellion's  vengeful  talons  feize  on  Laud. 
From  meaner  minds,  though  fmaller  fines  content 
The  plunder'd  palace  or  fequefter'd  rent ; 
Mirk'd  out  by  dang'rcus  parts  he  meets  the  (hock, 
And  fatal  learning  leads  him  to  the  block  : 
Around  his  tomb  let  art  and  genius  weep, 
But  hear  his  death,  ye  blockheads,  hsar  and  fleep. 

The  *  frftal  blazes,  the  triumphal  ihow, 
The  ravifh'd  nandard,  and  the  captive  foe, 
The  fenate's  thanks,  the  gazette's  pompous  talc, 
With  force  refiftlefs  o'er  the  brave  prevail. 
Such  bribes  the  rapid  Greek  o'er  Afia  whirl'd, 
For  fuch  the  fteady  Romans  (hook  the  world; 
For  fuch  in  diftant  lands  the  Britons  (bine. 
And  ftain  with  blood  the  Danube  or  the  Rhine ; 
This  pow'r  has  praife,  that  virtue  fcarce  can  warm, 
Till  fame  fupplies  the  univerfal  charm. 
Yet  reafon  frowns  on  war's  ucequal  game, 
Where  wafted  nations  raife  a  fingle  name, 
And  mortgag'd  dates  their  grandfires  wreaths  re 
gret, 

From  age  to  age  in  everlafting  debt ; 
Wreaths  which  at  laft  the  dear-bought  right  convey 
To  ruft  on  medals,  or  on  ftones  decay. 

On  f  what  foundation  ftands  the  warrior's  pride, 
How  juft  his  hopes  let  Swedifh  Charles  decide  ; 
A  frame  of  adamant,  a  foul  of  fire, 
No  dangers  fright  him,  and  no  labours  tire ; 
O'er  love,  o'er  fear,  extends  his  wide  domain, 
Unconquer'd  lord  of  pieafure  and  of  pain  ; 
No  joys  to  him  pacific  fceptres  yield, 
War  founds  the  trump,  he  riifhes  to  the  field  ; 
Behold  furrounding  kings  their  pow'r  combine, 
And  one  capitulate,  and  one  reiign  ; 
Peace  courts  his  hand,  but  fpreads  her  charms  in 
vain;  [main, 

*'  Think  nothing  gain'd.  he  cries,  till  nought  re- 
"  On  Mofcow's  walls  till  Gothic  ftandards  fly, 
•'  And'all  be  mine  beneath  the  polar  Iky.*' 
The  march  begins  in  military  ftate, 
And  nations  on  his  eye  fufpended  wait ; 
Stern  famine  guards  the  Iblitary  coaft, 
And  winter  barricades  the  realms  of  froft  ; 
He  comes,  nor  want  nor  cold  his  courfe  delay  ;— 
Hide,  blufhitig  glory,  hide  Pultowa's  day  : 
The  vanquifli'd  hero  leaves  his  broken  bands, 
And  (hows  his  miferics  in  diltant  lands ; 
Condemned  a  needy  .fupplicant  to  wait, 
While  ladies  interpole,  and  flaves  debate. 
But  did  not  chance  at  length  her  error  mend  ? 
Did  no  fubverted  empi:e  mark  his  end  ? 
Did  rival  monarchs  give  the  fatal  wound  ? 
Or  hoftile  millions  prefs  him  to  the  ground? 
His  fall  was  deftin'd  to  a  barren  ftrand, 
A  petty  fortrets,  and  a  dubious  hand; 
He  left  the  name,  at  which  the  world  grew  pale, 
To  point  a  moral,  or  adorn  a  tale. 

All  i  times  their  fceries  of  pompous  woes  afford, 
From  Perfia's  tyrant,  to  Bavaria's  lord. 

months,  without  he  borrowed  it,  and  died  very 
foorin  1646. 

*  Fer.  133.— 146.         f  rrr.  147.— 1 67. 

t  f'er.  i6S.--.i57. 

S 


In  gay  hoftility,  and  barb'rous  pride, 
With  half  mankind  embattled  at  his  fide, 
Great  Xerxes  conies  to  feize  the  certain  prey, 
An;l  ftarves  exhauiied  regions  in  his  way; 
Attendant  flatt'ry  counts  his  myriads  o'er, 
Tiil  counted  myriads  footh  hi-,  pride  no  more; 
Frefh  praife  is  try'd  till  raadnefs  fires  his  mind, 
The  waves  he  lames,  and  enchains  the  wind  ; 
New  pow'rs  are  claioi'd,  hew  pow'rs  are  ftill  be- 

ftow'd, 

Till  rude  refinance  lops  tne  fpreading  god ; 
The  daring  Greeks  deride  the  martial  (how, 
And  heap  their  valleys  with  the  gaudy  foe  ; 
Th'  infulted  fe-a  with  humbler  thoughts  he  gains, 
A  fingle  fklff  to  fpeed  his  flight  remains  ; 
Th'  encumber'd  oar  fcarce  leaves  the  dreaded  coaft 
Through  purple  billows  and  a  floating  hoft. 

The  bold  Bavarian,  in  a  lucklefs  hour, 
Tries  the  dread  fummits  of  Cael'arean  pow'r, 
With  unexpected  legions  burtts  away, 
And  fees  defencelefs  realms  receive  his  fway; 
Short  fway  \   fair  Auftria  fpreads  her  mournful 

charms, 

The  queen,  the  beauty,  fets  the  world  in  arms ; 
From  hill  to  hill  the  beacons  rouiing  blaze 
Spreads  wide  the  hope  of  plunder  and  of  praife; 
The  fierce  Creation,  and  the  wild  Huffar, 
With  all  the  fons  of  ravage  crowd  the  war ; 
The  baffled  prince  in  honour's  flatt'ring  bloom 
Of  halty  greatnefs  finds  the  fatal  doom, 
His  foes  derifion,  and  his  fubjedls  blame, 
And  fteals  to  death  from  anguifli  and  from  (hame* 

Enlarge  *  my  life  with  multude  of  days, 
In  health,  in  ficknefs,  thus  the  fuppliant  prays ; 
Hides  from  himfelf  his  ftate,  and  (huns  to  know, 
That  life  protracted,  is  protracTred  woe. 
Time  hovers  o'er,  impatient  to  deftroy, 
And  flints  up  all  the  paflages  of  joy: 
In  vain  their  gifts  the  bounteous  feafons  pour, 
The  fruit  autumnal,  and  the  vernal  flovv'r, 
With  liftlefs  eyes  the  dotard  views  the  llore, 
He   views,    and    wonders    that    they   pleafe   n» 

more; 

Now  pall  the  taftelefs  meats,  and  joylefs  wines, 
And  luxury  with  fighs  her  flave  reiigns. 
Approach,  ye  minftrels,  try  the  foothing  ftrain, 
Diffufe  the  tuneful  lenitives  of  pain : 
No  founds,  alas  !  would  touch  th'  impervious  ear, 
Though    dancing   mountains   witnefs'd  Orpheus 

near ; 

Nor  lute  nor  lyre  his  feeble  pbw'rs  attend, 
Nor  (weeter  mufic  of  a  virtuous  friend, 
But  everlafting  dictates  crowd  his  tongue, 
Pcrverfdy  grave,  or  pofitively  wrong. 
The  ftill  returning  tale,  and  ling'ring  jeft, 
Perplex  the  fawning  niece  and  pamper'd  gueft, 
While  growing  hopes  fcarce  awe  the  gath'rinj 

fneer, 

And  fcarce  a  legacy  can  bribe  to  hear ; 
The  watchful  guetts  ftill  hint  the  laft  offence, 
The  daughter's  petulance,  the  fon's  expence, 
Improve  his  heady  rage  with  treach'rous  (kill, 
And  mould  his  pafllons  till  they  make  his  will. 

Unnumber'd  maladies  his  joints  invade, 
Lay  liege  to  life,  and  prefs  the  dire  blockade ; 

*  Ver.  iSS.~  z8S. 


POEMS. 


Jut  unextinguifh'd  av'rice  dill  remains, 

And  dreaded  loffes  aggravate  his  pains ; 

He  turns,  with  anxious  heart  and  crippled  hands, 

His  bonds  of  debt,  and  mortgages  of  lands ; 

Or  views  his  coffers  with  fulpicious  eyes, 

Unlocks  his  gold,  and  counts  it  till  he  dies. 

But  grant,  the  virtues  of  a  ternp'rate  prime 
Blefs  with  an  age  exempt  from  fcorn  or  crime ; 
An  age  that  melts  with  unperceiv'd  decay, 
And  glides  in  mrdeft  innocence  away; 
W  hofe  peaceful  day  benevolence  endears,  . 
Whole  night  congratulating  confcience  cheers; 
The  gen'ral'fav'rite  as  the  gen'ral  friend  : 
•Such  age  there  is,  and  who  fliall  wifli  its  end  ? 
Yet  ev'n  on  this  her  load  misfortune  flings, 
To  prefs  the  weary  minutes  flagging  wings; 
New  forrow  rifes  as  the  day  returns, 
A  filter  fickens,  or  a  daughter  mouri;s. 
Now  kindred  merit  fills  the  fable  bier, 
Now  lacerated  friendfhip  claims  a  tear.         , 
Year  chafes  year,  decay  purtues  decay, 
Still  drops  fome  joy  from  with'rirg  life  away ; 
New  forms  arife,  and  diff'rent  views  engage, 
Superfluous  lags  the  vet'ran  on  the  ftage, 
Till  pitying  nature  figns  the  laft  releale, 
And  bids  atHidted  worth  retire  to  peace. 

But  few  there  are  whom  hours  like  thefe  await, 
Who  fet  unclouded  in  the  the  gulfs  of  fate. 
From  Lydia's  monarch  fliould  the  fearch  deicend, 
By  Solon  caution'd  to  regard  his  end, 
In  life's  laft  fcene  what  prodigies  furprife, 
Fears  of  the  brave,  and  follies  of  the  wife  ? 
From  Marlb'reugh's  eyes  the  ftreams  of  dotage 

flow, 
And  Swift  expires  a  driv'ler  and  a  fhow. 

The  *  teeming  mother,  anxious  for  her  race, 
Begs  for  each  birth  the  fortune  of  a  face : 
Yet  Vane  could  tell  what  ills  from  beauty  fpring; 
And  Sedley  curs'd  the  form  that  pleas'd  a  king. 
Ye  nymphs  of  rofy  lips  and  radiant  eyes, 
Whom  pleafure  keeps  too  bufy  to  be  wife, 
Whom  joys  with  fott  varieties  invite, 
By  day  the  frolic,  and  the  dance  by  night, 
Who  frown  with  vanity,  who  fmile  with  art, 
And  afli  the  lateft  fafliion  of  the  heart, 
What  care,  what  rules  your  heedkfs  charms  fliall 

fave, 

Each  nymph  your  rival,  and  each  youth  your  flave  ? 
Againit  your  fame  with  fondnefs  hate  combines, 
The  rival  batters,,  and  the  lovers  mines. 
With  diftant  voice  negledled  virtue  calls, 
Lefs  beard  and  lefs,  the  faint  remonll ranee  falls; 
Tir'd  with  contempt,  fhe  quits  the  flipp'ry  reign, 
And  pride  and  prudence  take  her  feat  in  vain. 
In  crowd  at  once,  where  none  the  pals  defend, 
The  harmlefs  freedom,  and  the  private  friend. 
The  guardians  yield,  by  force  fuperior  ply'd  ; 
To  int'reft,  prudence  ;  and  to  fiatt'ry,  pride. 
Here  beauty  falls  betray'd,  defpis'd,  diftrefs'd, 
And  hifling  infamy  proclaims  the  relt. 

Where  f  then  fliall  hope  and  fear  their  object; 

rind? 

Muft  dull  fufpenfe  corrupt  the  flagrant  mird  ? 
Muft  helplefs  man,  in  ignorance  fedate, 
Roil  darkling  down  the  torrent  cf  his  fate  ? 

*  Ftr.  389.— 545.        |  Vir.  346. — 366, 


Vluft  no  diflike  alarm,  ap  wjiles  rif?, 
*>io  cries  invoke  the  mercies  of  the  ikies? 
nquirer,  ceaie,  petitions  yet  remain, 
Which  HeaVn  may  hear,  nor  deem  religion  vain. 
till  raife  for  good  the  fupplicating  voice, 
3ut  leave  to  Heav'n  the  meafure  and  the  choice. 
Safe  in  his  pow'r,  whofe  eyes  difcern  afar 
The  fecret  ambufh  of  a  fpecior-s  pray'r. 
.mpiore  his  aid,  in  his  deciiions  reft, 
Secure  whate'er  he  gives,  he  gives  the  beft. 
Yet  when  the  fenfe  of  facred  prefence  fires, 
And  ftrong  devotion  to  the  fkies  afpires, 
Pour  forth  thy  fervours  for  a  healthful  mind, 
Obedient  paffions,  and  a  will  reGgn'd  ; 
For  love,  which  fcarce  collective  man  can  fill; 
For  patience,  (ov'reign  o'er  tranfmuted  ill ; 
For  laith,  that  panting  for  a  happier  feat, 
Counts  death  kind  nature's  fignal  of  retreat : 
1'heie  goods  for  man  the  laws  of  hcav'n  ordain, 
Thefe  goods  he  grants,  who  grants  the  pow'r  t« 

gain  ; 

With  thefe  celeftial  wildom  calms  the  mind, 
And  makes  the  happinefs  fhe  does  not  find. 

PROLOGUE  SPOKEN  BY  MR.  GARRICK, 

AT     THE     OPENING     OF    THE    THEATRE     ROYAL, 
DR.URY-LANE,    1747. 

WHEN  learning's  triumph  o'er  her  barbarous  foci 
Firft  rear'd  the  ftage,  immortal  Shakfpeare  rofe; 
Each  change  of  many-colour'd  life  he  drew, 
Exhaufted  worlds,  and  then  imagin'd  new  : 
liKiftence  faw  him  fpurn  her  bounded  reign, 
And  panting  time  toil'd  after  him  in  vain. 
His  powerful  ftrokes  prefiding  truth  imprefs'd. 
And  unrefilled  paflion  ftorm'd  the  breath 

Then  Jonfon  came,  inltrudted  from  the  fchooj, 
To  pieafe  in  method,  and  invent  by  rule ; 
His  lludious  patience  and  laborious  art, 
By  regular  approach  efiay'd  the  heart : 
Cold  approbation  gave  the  lingering  bays; 
For  thefe  who  durft  not  cenfure,   fcarce  could 

praife. 

A  mortal  born,  he  met  the  gcn'rnl  doom, 
But  left,  like  Egypt's  kings,  a  biting  tomb. 

The  wits  of  Charles  found  eafier  ways  to  famr. 
Nor  wifli'd  for  Jonfon's  art,  or  Shakfpeare's  flame. 
Themfelves  they  ftudied  ;  as  they  felt,  they  writ: 
Intrigue  was  plot,  obfcenity  was  wit. 
Vice  always  found  a  fympathetic  friend  ; 
They  pleas'd  their  age,  and  did  not  aim  to  mend. 

Yet  b'trds  like  thefe  afpir'd  to  lafting  praife, 

And  proudly  hop'd  to  pimp  in  future  days. 

Their   caufe   was  gen'ral,    their  fupports  were 
ftrong  ; 

Their  (laves  were,  willing,  and  their  reign  was 
long : 

Till  fliame  regam'd  the  poft  that  fenfc  betray'd, 

And  virtue  call'd  oblivion  to  her  aid. 

Then  crufh'd  by  rules,  and  weaken'd  as  refm'J, 

For  years  the  pow'r  of  tragedy  declin'd  ; 

From  bard  to  bard  the  frigid  caution  crepf. 

Till  declamation  roar'd  whilst  paffion  uYpt ; 

Yet  ftill  did  virtue  deign  the  ftage  to  tread, 

Philofophy  remain'd  though  nature  fled. 
'  Hut  forc'd,  at  length,  her  ancient  reign  to  quit, 

She  faw  great  Fauftus  lay  the  ghofi  of  wit ; 


*44 


Exulting  folly  hail'd  the  joyous  day, 

And  pantomime  and  fong  confirm'd  her  fway. 

But  who  the  coming  changes  can  prefage, 
And  mark  the  future  periods  of  the  ftage  ? 
Perhaps  if  {kill  could  diftant  times  explore, 
New  Behns,  new  Durfeys,  yet  remain  in  ftore ; 
Perhaps  where  Lear  has  rav'd,  and  Hamlet  dy'd, 
On  flying  cars  new  forcerers  may  ride  ; 
Perhaps  (for  who  can  guefs  th'  effects  of  chance) 
Here  Hunt  may  box,  or  Mahomet  *  Biay  dance. 
Hard  is  his  lot  that  here  by  fortune  plac'd, 
Muft  watch  the  wild  viciffitudcs  of  tafte  ; 
With  every  meteor  of  caprice  muft  play, 
And  chafe  the  new-blown  bubbles  of  the  day. 
Ah !  let  not  cenfure  term  our  fate  our  choice, 
The  ftage  but  echoes  back  the  public  voice  ; 
The  drama's  laws,  the  drama's  patrons  give, 
For  we  that  live  to  pleafe,  muft  pltrafe  to  live. 

Then  prompt  no  more  the  follies  you  decry, 
As  tyrants  doom  their  tools  of  guilt  to  die  ; 
•Tis  yours,  this  night,  to  bid  the  reign  commence 
Of  refcu'd  nature,  and  reviving  fenfe ; 
To  chafe  the  charms  of  found,  the  pomp  of  fliow, 
Tor  ufeful  mirth  and  falutary  woe  ; 
Bid  fcenic  virtue  from  the  rifing  age, 
And  truth  diffufe  her  radiance  from  the  ftage. 

PROLOGUE 

Sfolen  by  Mr.  Garrict,  April  5.  1750,  before  tie 
Mafque  of  Comus,  aficd  fit  Dwry-Lane  'Theatre, 
for  the  benefit  of  Milton 's  grand-daugller. 

Ye  patriot  crowds  who  burn  for  England's  fame, 
Ye  nymphs  whofe  bofoms  beat  at  Milton's  name, 
Whofe  generous  zeal,  unbought  by  flutt'ring 

rhymes, 

Shames  the  mean  penfions  of  Auguilan  times; 
Immortal  patrons  of  fuccocding  days, 
Attend  this  prelude  of  perpetual  praife  ; 
Let  wit  condemn'd  the  feeble  war  to  wage, 
With  clofe  malevolence,  or  public  rage  ; 
Let  ftudy,  worn  with  virtue's  fruitlofs  lore, 
Behold  this  theatre,  and  grieve  no  more. 
This  night,  diftinguifh'd  by  your  fmiles,  fhall  tell 
That  never  Britain  can  in  vain  excel ; 
The  flighted  arts  futurity  fhall  truflr, 
And  riling  ages  haften  to  be  juft. 

At  length  our  mighty  bard's  victorious  lays 
Fill  the  iond  voice  of  univerfal  praife ; 
And  bufScd  fpite,  with  hopelefs  anguifh  dumb, 
Yields  to  renown  the  centuries  to  come ; 
\Vith  ardent  hafle  each  candidate  of  fame, 
Ambitious  catches  at  his  tow'ring  name  ; 
He  fees,  and  pitying  fees,  vain  wealth  beftow 
Thofe  pageant  honours  which  he  fcorn'd  below, 
"While  crowds  aloft  the  laureat  buft  behold, 
Or  trace  his  form  on  circulating  gold. 
Unknown — unheeded,  long  his  offspring  lay, 
And  want  hung  threat'ning  o'er  her  flow  dtcay. 
What  though  ftie  fhine  with  no  Miltonian  fire, 
No  favouring  mufe  her  morning  dreams  infpire  ? 
Yet  fofter  claims  the  melting  heart  engage, 
Her  youth  laborious,  and  her  blamekfs  age ; 

*  Hunt  a  famous  boxer  on  thejlagt:  Mabotatt,  a 
rope  dattcer,  -who  bad  ex/jiLited  at  Covint-  Garden  tbcairt 
the  -u  inter  before,  /aid  to  te  a  Tuti. 


THE    WORKS   OF   JOHNSON. 

Hers  the  mild  merits  of  domeftic  life, 
The  patient  fufferer,  and  the  faithful  wife. 
Thus  grac'd  with  humble  virtue's  native  charms 
Her  grandfire  leaves  her  in  Britannia's  arms ; 
Secure  with  peace,  with  competence  to  dwell, 
While  tutelary  nations  guard  her  cell. 
Yours  is  the  charge,  ye  fair,  ye  wife,  ye  brave  ! 
'Tis  yours  to  crown  defert— beyond  the  grave. 


PROLOGUE 

TO  THE  COMEDY  OF  THE   GOOD-NATURED   MAN 
1769. 

Preft  by  the  load  of  life,  the  weary  mind 

Surveys  the  general  toil  of  human  kind, 

With  cool  fubmiffion  joins  the  lab'ring  train, 

And  focial  forrow  lofes  half  its  pain  ; 

Our  anxious  bard  without  cbmplaint  may  fliare 

This  buftling  feafon's  epidemic  care ; 

Like  Casfar's  pilot  dignify'd  by  fate, 

Toft  in  one  common  ftorm  with  all  the  great ; 

Diftref:  alike  the  flatefeman  and  the  wit, 

When  one  a  borough  courts,  and  one  the  pit. 

The  bufy  candidates  for  power  and  fame 

Have  hopes,  and  fears,  and  wHhes  juft  the  fame ; 

Difabled  both  to  combat,  or  to  fly, 

Muft  hear  all  taunts,  and  hear  without  reply. 

Uncheck'd  on  both,  loud  rabbles  vent  their  rage, 

As  mongrels  bay  the  lion  in  a  cage. 

Th'  offended  burgefs  hoards  his  angry  tale, 

For  that  bleft  year  when  all  that  vote  may  rail 

Their  fchemes  of  fpite  the  poet's  foes  difmifs, 

Till  that  glad  night  when  ail  that  hate  may  hifs. 

"  This  day  the  powdcr'd  curls  and  golden  coat," 
Says  fwelling  Crifpin,  "  begg'd  a  cobler's  vote  ;" 
"  This  night  our  wit,"  the  pert  apprentice  cries, 
"  Lies  at  my  feet ;  I  hifs  him,  and  he  dies." 
The  great  'tis  true,  can  charm  th'  electing  tribe, 
The  bard  may  fupplicate,  but  cannot  bribe.' 
Yet  judg'd  by  thole  whofe  voices  ne'er  were  fold 
He  feels  no  want  of  ill-perfuading  gold ; 
But  confident  of  praife,  if  praife  be  due, 
Trufts  without  fear  to  merit  and  to  you. 

PROLOUGE 

To  tie  Comedy  of  a  V/ord  to  tf.'e  Wife  *,  ffoken  by 
Mr.  Hull. 

This  night  prefents  a  play  which  public  rage, 
Or  right,  or  wrong,  once  hcoted  from  the  ftage  f . 
From  zeal  or  malice,  now  no  more  we  dread, 
For  Englifti  vengeance  wars  not  with  the  dead. 
A  generous  foe  regards  with  pitying  eye 
The  man  whom  fate  has  laid,  where  all  muft  lie. 

To  wit  reviving  frcm  its  author's  duft, 
Be  kind  ye  judges,  or  at  leaftbe  juft. 
For  no  renevv'd  hoftilities  invade 
Th'  oblivious  grave's  inviolable  fhade. 
Let  one  great  payment  every  claim  appeafe, 
And  him  who.cannot  hurt,  allow  to  pleafe ; 


*  Perforated  at  Ctvent-GarJen  tleatrt  in  IJJJ. 
fcr  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Kelly,  ividoiv  »f  Hugh  Kelly, 
Efq.  {the  autler  of  the  play}  and  Icr  children. 

f  Upon  the  fir/i  refrefentatkn  of  tbit  play,  1770] 
a  party  ajjcmblcd  to  damn  it,  «nd  fuciacteJ. 


POEM     S. 


To  pkafe  by  fcenes  unconfcious  of  offence, 

By  harmlois  merriment,  or  ufeful  fcnfe. 

Where  aught  of  bright,  or  fair  the  piece  difplays, 

Approve  it  only — 'tis  too  late  to  praife. 

If  want  of  flcill,  or  want  of  care  appear, 

Forbear  to  hifs — the  poet  cannot  hear. 

By  all  like  him  muft  praife  and  blame  be  found, 

At  beft  a  fleeting  gleam,  or  empty  found. 

Yet  then  fhall  calm  reflection  blefs  the  night, 

When  liberal  pity  dignify'd  delight ; 

When  plcafure  fir'd  her  torch  a.t  'virtue's  flame, 

And  mirth  was  bounty  with  an  humbler  name. 

SPRING, 

AN  ODE. 

STERN  Winter  now,  by  Spring  reprefs'd, 

Forbears  the  long  continued  ftrife  ; 
And  nature  on  her  naked  breaft, 

Delights  to  catch  the  gales  of  life, 

Now  o'er  the  rural  kingdom  roves 

Soft  pleafure  with  her  laughing  train, 
Love  warbles  in  the  vocal  groves, 
.  And  vegetation  plants  the  plain. 

Unhappy !  whom  to  beds  of  pain, 

Arthritic  *  tyranny  configns; 
Whom  finiliner  nature  courts  in  vain, 

Though  rapture  fmgs  and  beauty  fhincs. 

Yet  though  my  limbs  difeafe  invades, 

Her  wings  imagination  tries, 
And  bears  me  to  the  peaceful  fhades 

Where 's  humble  turret's  rife. 

Here  flop,  my  foul,  thy  rapid  flight, 
Nor  from  the  pleafing  groves  depart, 

Where  firft  great  nature  charm'd  my  fight, 
Where  wifdom  firft  inform'd  my  heart. 

Here  let  me  through  the  vales  purfue 

A  guide — a  father— and  a  friend, 
Once  more  great  nature's  works  renew, 

Once  more  on  wifdom's  voice  attend. , 

From  falfe  careffes,  caufelefs  ftrife, 
Wild  hope,  vain  fear,  alike  remov'd ; 

Here  let  me  learn  the  ufe  of  life, 

When  beft  enjoy'd — when  moft  improv'd. 

Teach  me,  thou  venerable  bower, 

Cool  meditation's  quiet  feat, 
The  generous  fcorn  of  venal  power, 

The  filent  grandeur  of  retreat. 

When  pride  by  guilt  to  greatnefs  climbs, 

Or  raging  faction's  rufh  to  war, 
Here  let  nie  learn  to  fhun  the  crimes 

I  can't  prevent,  and  will  not  fharc. 

But  left  I  fall  by  fubtler  foes, 

Bright  wifdom  teach  me  Curio's  art, 

The  fvvelling  paflions  to  compofe, 
And  quell  the  rebels  of  the  heart. 

MIDSUMMER, 

AN  ODE. 

O  PHOEBUS  !  down  the  weftern  Iky, 
Far  hence  diffufe  thy  burning  ray, 

5  the  author  being  ill  ef  the  gout 


Thy  light  to  diftant  worlds  fupply, 
.    And  wake  them  to  the  cares  of  day. 

Come  gentle  eve,  the  friend  of  care, 
Come  Cynthia,  lovely  queen  of  night! 

Refrefh  me  with  a  cooling  breeze, 
And  cheer  me  with  a  lambent  light. 

Lay  me,  where  o'er  the  verdant  ground 
Her  living  carpet  nature  fpreads ; 

Where  the  green  bower  with  rofes  crown'd, 
In  fhowers  its  fragrant  foliage  fheds. 

Improve  the  peaceful  hour  with  wine, 
Let  mufic  die  along  the  grove  ; 

Around  the  bowl  let  myrtles  twine, 
And  every  ftrain  be  tun'd  to  love. 

Come,  Stella,  queen  of  all  my  heart  1 
Come,  born  to  fill  its  vaft  defires  \ 

Thy  looks  perpetual  joys  impart, 
Thy  voice  perpetual  love  infpircs. 

While  all  my  with  and  thine  complete, 
By  turns  we  languiih  and  we  burn, 

Let  fighing  gales  pur  fighs  repeat, 

Our  murmurs — murmuring  brooks  return. 

Let  me  when  nature  calls  to  reft, 
And  blufhing  fkies  the  morn  foretel, 

Sink  on  the  down  of  Stella's  breaft, 
And  bid  the  waking  world  fareweL 

AUTUMN, 


ALAS  !  with  fwift  and  filent  pace, 
Impatient  time  rolls  on  the  year ; 

The  feafons  change,  and  nature's  face 
Now  fweetly  Imiles,  now  frowns  fevere. 

'Twas  Spring,  'twas  Summer,  all  was  gay, 
Now  Autumn  bends  a  cloudy  brow  ;,^ 

The  flowers  of  Spring  are  {wept  away , 
And  Summer  fruits  defert  the  bough. 

The  verdant  leaves  that  play'd  on  high, 
And  wahton'd  on  the  weftern  breeze, 

Now  trod  in  dull  neglected  lie, 
As  Boreas  ftrips  the  bending  trees. 

The  fields  that  wav'd  with  golden  grain, 
As  ruffet  heaths  are  wild  and  bare ; 

Not  moift  with  dew,  but  drench 'd  in  rain, 
Nor  health,  nor  pleafure  wanders  there. 

No  more  while  through  the  midnight  fhado. 
Beneath  the  moon's  pale  orb  I  ftray, 

Soft  pleafing  woes  my  heart  invade, 
As  Progne  pours  the  melting  lay. 

From  this  capricious  clime  fhe  foars, 
O!  wou'd  fomegod  but  wings  fupply! 

To  where  each  morn  the  Spring  reftores. 
Companion  of  her  flight  I'd  fly. 

Vain  wifh !  me  fate  compels  to  bear 
The  downward  feafons  iron  reign3 

Compels  to  breathe  polluted  air, 
And  Ihiver  on  a  blufted  plai;u 


THE  WORKS   OF  JOHNSON. 


"What  blifs  to  life  can  Autumn  yield, 

If  glooms,  and  fliowers,  and  florms  prevail ; 

And  Ceres  flies  the  naked  field, 

And  flowers,  and  fruits,  and  Phoebus  fail  ? 

Oh  !  what  remains,  what  lingers  yet, 
To  cheer  me  in  the  darkening  hour  ? 

The  grape  remains  !  the  friend  of  wit, 
lu  love,  and  mirth,  of  mighty  power. 

Hafte— prefs  the  clutters,  fill  the  bowl ; 

Apollo  !  fhoot  thy  parting  ray : 
This  gives  the  funfhine  of  the  foal, 

This  god  of  health,  and  verfe,  and  day. 

Still— ftill  the  jocund  ilram  fliall  flow, 
The  pulfe  with  vigorous  rapture  beat ; 

My  Stella  with  new  charms  ftiall  glow, 
And  every  blifs  in  wiue  fliall  meet. 

v  WINTER, 


No  more  the  morn,  with  tepid  rays, 
Unfolds  the  flower  of  various  hue ; 

Noon  fprcadsno  more  the  gcnial'blazc, 
Nor  gentle  eve  diftils  the  dew. 

The  lingering  hours  prolong  the  night, 
Ufurping  darknels  (hares  the  day  ; 

Hermiflsreftrain  the  force  of  light, 
And  Phoebus  holds  a  doubtful  fvvay. 

J3y  gloomy  twilight  half  reveal'd, 
With  fighs  we  view  the  hoary  hill, 

The  leafiefs  v.  cod,  the  naked  field, 
The  fhow-topt  cot,  the  frozen  rill. 

>To  mafic  warbles  through  the  grove, 

No  vvid  colours  paint  the  plain; 
ITo  more  with  devious  fteps  I  rove 

Through  verdant  paths  now  fought  in  vain. 

Aloud  the  driving  tempeft  roars, 
.   Congeal'd,  impetuous  fliowers  defcend  ; 
Hafte,  clofe  the  windows,  bar  the  doors, 
Fate  leaves  me  Stella,  and  a  friend. 

In  nature's  aid  let  art  fupply 

With  light  and  heat  my  little  fphere ; 

Rouze,  rouze  the  fire,  and  pile  it  high, 
Light  up  a  conflellation  here. 

Let  mufic  found  the  voice  of  joy  ! 

Or  mirth  repeat  the  jocund  tale; 
JLet  love  his  wanton  wiles  employ, 

And  o'er  the  feafon  wine  prevail. 

Yet  time  life's  dreary  winter  bring?, 
.When  mirth's  gay  tale  fliall  pleafe  no  more  ; 

Normufic  charm — though  Stella  lings; 
Nor  love,  nor  wine,  the  fpring  restore. 

Catch  then,  O '  catch  the  tranfient  hour, 

Improve  each  moment  as  it  flies; 
j.-f-.-'s  a  fhort  fiimmer — man  a  flower, 

lie  dies — alas  t  how  foon  he  dies ! 

THE  WINTER'S  WALK. 

snotD,  my  fair,  where'er  we  rove, 
V.'Lar  tLx-ry  p  refuels  rcuud.  us  rile  j 


The  naked  hill,  the  leaflefs  grove, 

The  hoary  ground,  the  frowning  fki«! 

Not  only  thought  the  wafted  plain, 
Stern  Winter  in  thy  force  confefs'd 

Still  wider  fpreads  thyhorrid  reign, 
I  feel  thy  power  ufurp  my  breaft. 

Enlivening  hope,  and  fond  dcfire, 
Refign  the  heart  to  fpleen  and  care 

Scarce  frighted  love  maintains  her  fire, 
And  rapture  faddens  to  defpair. 

In  groundlefs  hope  and  caufclefs  fear, 
Unhappy  man  !  behold  thy  doom ; 

Still  changing  with  the  changeful  year, 
The  Have  of  funfhine  and  of  gloom. 

Tir'd  with  vain  joys,  and  falfe  alarms, 

With  mental  and  corporeal  ffirife, 
Snatch  me,  my  Stella,  to  thy  arms, 

And  fcreen  me  from  the  ills  of  life. 

TO  MISS  *»»**, 

On  Icr  giving   the  Author  a  Gold  and  fili  2f 
furfe  of  her  own  vata-vintr* , 

THOUGH  gold  and  filk  their  charms  unite 
To  make  thy  curious  web  delight, 
In  vain  the  varied  work  would  ihine, 
If  wrought  by  any  hand  but  thine; 
Thy  hand  that  knows  the  fubtltr  art, 
To  weave  thofe  nets  that  catch  the  heart. 

Spread  out  by  me,  the  roving  coin 
Thy  nets  may  catch,  but  not  confine  ; 
Nor  can  I  hope  thy  fiiken  chain 
The  glittering  vagrants  ihall  reftrain. 
Why,  Stella,  was  it  then  decreed 
The  heart  once  caught  fhould  lu'er  be  freed  ? 

TO  MISS  »*»**, 

On  ber  flaying  upon  tie  Harpficord  in  a  Room  bung 
ivitb  flo-wer-fieces  of  her  oivn  Painting  *. 

WHEN  Stella  flrikcs  the  tuneful  firing 
In  fcencs  of  imitated  Spring, 
Where  beauty  lavifhes  her  powers 
On  beds  of  never-fading  flowers, 
And  plealure  propagates  around 
Each  charm  of  modulated  found ;     - 
Ah  !  think  not  in  the  dangerous  hour, 
The  nymph  fictitious  as  the  flower, 
But  fliun,  rafh  youth,  the  gay  alcove, 
Nor  tempt  the  fnares  of  wily  love. 

When  charms  thus  prefs  on  every  fenfe, 
What  thought  of  flight,  or  of  defence  ?    • 
Deceitful  hope,  and  vain  defire, 
Forever  flutter  o'er  her  lyre, 
De-lighting  as  the  youth  draws  nigh, 
To  point  the  glances  of  her  eye, 
And  forming  with  unerring  art 
New  chains  to  hold  the  captive  heart. 

But  on  thofe  regions'  of  delight 
Might  truth  intrude  with  daring  flight. 
Could  Stella,  fprightly,  fair,  and  young, 
One  moment  hear  the  moral  fong, 

*  Printed  amon    Mrs.  WiUliau"s.  M 


er  flowers  might  fpring, 
And  wifdom  warble  from  her  firing. 

Mark  when  from  thoufand  mingled  dyes 
Thou  feeft  one  pleafing  form  arife, 
How  active  light,  and  thoughtful  fhade, 
In  greater  fcenes  each  other  aid. 
Mark  when  the  different  notes  agree 
In  friendly  contrariety, 
How  pafiions  well  accorded  ftrife, 
Gives  all  the  harmony  of  life  ; 
Thy  pictures  fhall  thy  conduct  frame, 
ConfiUent  ftill,  though  not  the  fanie  i 
Thy  muf;c  teach  the  nobler  art, 
To  tune  the  regulated  heart. 

EVENING, 

AN  ODE.    TO  STELLA. 

EVENING  now  from  purple  wings 
Sheds  the  grateful  gifts  (he  brings; 
Brilliant  drops  bedeck  the  mead, 
Cooling  breezes  make  the  reed  ; 
.,    Shake  the  reed,  and  curl  the  ftream 
Silver'd  o'er  with  Cynthia's  beam; 
Near  the  chequer'd,  lonely  grove, 
Hears,  and  keeps  thy  fecrets,  love. 
Stella,  thither  let  us  ftray ! 
.Lightly  o'er  the  dewy  way. 
Phoebus  drives  his  burning  car, 
Hence,  my  lovely  Stella,  far; 
In  his  fteed,   the  queen  of  night 
Round  us  pours  a  lambent  light; 
Light  that  feems  but  juft  to  fhow 
Breafts  that  beat,  and  cheeks  that  glow; 
Let  us  now,  in  whifper'd  joy, 
Evening's  filent  hours  employ, 
Silence  beft,  and  confcious  {hades, 
Pleafe  the  hearts  that  love  invades 
Other  pleafures  give  them  pain, 
Covers  all  but  love  dii'dain. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

WHETHER  Stella's  eyes  are  found, 
Fix'd  on  earth,  or  glancing  round, 
If  her  face  with  pleafure  glow, 
If  (he  figh  at  others  wee, 
If  her  eafy  air  exprefs 
Conicious  worth  or  foft  diftrefs, 
Stella's  eyes,  and  air,  and  face, 
Charm  with  undiminifh'd  grace. 

If  on  her  we  fee  difplay'd 
Pendant  gems,  and  rich  brocade1, 
If  her  chintz  with  lefs  expence 
Flows  in  eafy  negligence  ; 
Still  fhe  lights  the  confcious  flame, 
Still  her  charms  appear  the  fame ; 
If  fhe  ftrikes  the  vocal  firings, 
If  ttie'a  filent,  fpeaks,  or  fings, 
If  fhe  fit,  or  if  fhe  move, 
Still  we  love,  and  ftill  approve. 

Vain  the  cafual,  tranfient  glance, 
"Which  alone  can  pleafe  by  chance, 
Beauty,  which  depends  on  art, 
Changing  with  the  changing  art, 
"Which  demands  the  toilet's  aid, 
Pendant  gems  and  rich  brocade 


I  thofe  charm-s  alone  can  prize, 
Which  from  conftant  nature  rife, 
Which  nor  circumftance,  nor  drcfs, 
E'er  can  make,  or  more,  or  lefs. 

TO  A  FRIEND. 

No  more  thus  brooding  o'er  yon  heap, 
With  avarice  painful  vigils  keep  ; 
Still  unenjoy'd  the  prefent  ftore, 
Still  endlefs  fighs  are  breath'd  for  more. 

0  !  quit  the  fnadow,  catch  the  prize, 
Which  not  all  India's  treafure  buys ! 

To  purchafe  heaven  has  gold  the  power  J 
Can  gold  remove  the  mortal  hour  ? 
In  life  can  love  be  bought  with  gold  ? 
Are  friendfhip's  pleafures  to  be  fold  ? 
No — all  that's  worth  a  wiih — a  thought. 
Fair  virtue  gives  unbrib'd,  unboVight. 
Ceafe  then  on  trafh  thy  hopes  to  bind, 
Let  nobler  views  engage  thy  mind. 

With  fcience  tread  the  wond'rous  way, 
Or  learn  the  mufes  moral  lay; 
In  focial  hours  indulge  thy  foul, 
Where  mirth  and  temperance  mix  the  bowl; 
To  virtuous  love  rcfign  thy  breaft, 
And  be,  by  bleffing  beauty — blt-ft. 

Thus  tafte  the  feaft  by  nature  fpread, 
Ere  youth  and  all  its  joys  are  fled  ; 
Come  tafte  with  me  the  balm  of  life, 
Secure  from  pomp,  and  wealth  and  flrife. 

1  boaft  whate'er  for  man  was  meant, 
In  health,  and  Stella,  and  content; 

And  fcorn  !  Oh  !  let  that  fcorn  be  thine! 
Mere  things  of  clay,  that  dig  the  mine. 

STELLA  IN  MOURNING, 

WHEN  lately  Stella's  form  difplay'd 

The  beauties  of  the  gay  brocade, 

The  nymphs  who  found  their  power  decline, 

Proclaim  d  her  not  fo  fair  as  fine. 

"  Fate  !  fnatch  away  the  bright  difguife, 

"  And  let  the  goddefs  truft  her  eyes.1' 

Thus  blindly  pray'd  the  fretful  fair, 

And  fate  malicious  heard  the  pray'r  ; ' 

But  brighten'd  by  the  fable  drefs, 

As  virtue  rifes  in  diftrefs,     . 

Since  Stella  ftill  extends  her  regin, 

Ah !  how  fhall  envy  footh  her  pain  ? 

Th'  adoring  youth  and  envious  fair, 
Henceforth  fhall  form  one  common  prayer; 
And  love  and  hate  alike  implore 
The  fkies— - "  That  Stella  mourn  no  more." 

TO  STELLA. 

NOT  the  foft  fighs  of  vernal  gales, 
The  fragrance  of  the  flowery  \ales, 
The  murmurs  of  the  cryflal  rill, 
The  vocal  grove,  the  verdant  hill ; 
Not  all  their  charms,  though  all  unite, 
Can  touch  my  bofom  with  delight. 

Not  all  the  gems  on  India's  fhore, 
Not  all  Peru's  unbounded  ftore, 
Not  all  the  power,  nor  all  the  fame, 
That  heroes,  kings,  or  poets  claim ; 


Nor  knowledge  which  the  learn'd  approve, 
To  form  one  wifh  my  foul  can  move. 


Yet  nature's  charms  allure  my  eyes, 

And  knowledge,  wealth,  and  fame  I  prize ; 

Fame,  wealth,  and  knowledge  I  obtain, 

Nor  feek  I  nature's  charms  in  vain  ; 

In  lovely  Stella  all  combine, 

And,  lovely  Stella  !  thou  art  mine. 

VERSES, 

Written  at  the  Requejl  of  a  Gentleman  to  whom 
a  Lady  bad  given  a  Sprig  of  Myrtle  *. 

WHAT  hopes— what  terrors  does  this  gift  create  ! 
Ambiguous  emblem  of  uncertain  fate. 
The  myrtle  (enfign  of  fupreme  command, 
Confign'd  to  Venus  by  Meliflfa's  hand) 
Not  lets  capricious  than  a  reigning  fair, 
Oft  favours,  oft  rejects  a  lover's  prayer. 
In  myrtle  (hades  oft  fings  the  happy  fwain, 
In  myrtle  (hades  defpairing  ghofts  complain. 
The  myrtle  crowns  the  happy  lovers  heads, 
The  unhappy  lovers  graves  the  myrtle  fpreads. 
Oh  !  then,  the  meaning  of  thy  gift  impart, 
And  eafe  the  throbbings  of  an  anxious  heart. 
Soon  muft  this  fprig,  as  you  (hall  fix  its  doom, 
Adorn  Fhilaader's  head,  or  grace  his  tomb. 

TO  LADY  FIREBRACE*, 

AT  BURY  ASSIZES. 

AT  length  muft  Suffolk  beauties  fhine  in  vain. 

So  long  renown'd  in  B n's  deathlefs  (train  ? 

Thy  charms  at  leaft,  fair  Firebrace,  might  infpire 
Some  zealous  bard  to  wake  the  deeping  lyre  } 

*  Thefe  iierfes  were  Jirfl  printed  in  a  Magazine 
for  1768,  under  the  name  of  Hammond,  and  have 
frequently  been  afcribed  toMr.Derrick.  According 
to  thejlaUrnent  of  Mifs  Seward  and  Mr.  White 
of  Litchfield,  they  were  written  by  Johnfon, 
•when  afchool-boy,  and  addrejjed  to  Lucy  Porter, 
thcfirft  objefi  of  bis  early  lave,  whofe  mother  he 
married ;  and  afterwards  given  to  Mr.  Heffor  of 
Birmingham,  in  1731, /or  his  friend  Mr.  Mor 
gan  Graves,  without  thinking  it  material  to  avow 
their  pre-exi/tence.  Lucy  Porter  'was  then  on  a 
vijit  to  her  aunt,  M.rs.  Hnnter,  brother  of  Mr. 
Porter  cf  Birmingham,  and  fecond  wife  of  &Ir. 
Hunter,  'Johnjon's  fchoolmafter.  She  was  four 
years  younger  than  Johnfon ;  and  uniformly  f aid, 
that  the  "verfes  were  addr^jfed  to  "  herfelf,  ivhen 
be  was  a  lad,"  on  her  having  given  him  fame 
myrtle.  See"  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  for  1793, 
1704. 

f  This  lady  was  Bridget,  third  daughter  of 
Philip  Bacon,  Efq.  of  Ipfwich,  andreliS  of  Phi 
lip  E'ue'rs,  Efy.  of  that  town ;  fie  became  tic  fe 
cond  'wife  of  Sir  Cordeli  Firebrace,  the  Iqfl  Baro 
net  of  that  name  (to  whomjhe  brought  a  fortune 
of2$,oos>i.J,  July  26.  1737.  Meing  again  left 
a  widow  in  1759,  jife  was  a  third  time  married, 
April  7.  1762,  to  William  Campbell,  Efq.  uncle 
to  the  frefcnt  Dxke  of  Argyll,  and  died  July  3. 


THE   WORKS    OF   JOHNSON. 

For  fuch  thy  beauteous  mind  and  lovely  face, 
Thou  feem'ft  at  once,  bright  nymph,  a  mule  and 
grace. 


TO  LYCE, 

AN  ELDERLY  LADY. 

YE  nymphs  whom  ftarry  rays  inveft, 

By  flattering  poets  given, 
Who  fhine  by  lavifh  lovers  dreft, 

In  all  the  pomp  of  heaven ; 

Engrofs  not  all  the  beams  on  high, 

Which  gild  a  loverVlays, 
But  as  your  fitter  of  the  Iky, 

Let  Lyce  (hare  the  praife. 

Her  filver  locks  difplay  the  moon, 

Her  brows  a  cloudy  (how, 
Strfp'd  rainbows  round  her  eyes  are  feen,  , 

And  mowers  from  either  flow. 

Her  teeth  the  night  with  darknefs  dyes, 

She's  ftarr'd  with  pimples  o'er; 
Her  tongue  like  nimble  lightning  plies, 

And  can  with  thunder  roar. 

But  fome  Zelinda,  while  I  (ing. 

Denies  my  Lyce  fliines  ; 
And  all  the  pens  of  Cupid's  wing 

Attack  my  gentle  lines. 

Yet  fpite  of  fair  Zelinda's  eye,  . 

And  all  her  bards  exprefs, 
My  Lyce  makes  as  good  a  (ky, 

And  I  but  flatter  leis. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  ROBERT  LEVETT, 

A  PRAOTISER  IN  PHYSIC. 

CONDEMNED  to  hope's  delufive  mine, 

As  on  we  toil  from  day  to  day, 
By  fudden  Wafts,  or  flow  decline, 

Our  focial  comforts  drop  away. 

Well  try'd  through  many  a  varying  year, 

See  Level  to  the  grave  defcend, 
Officious,  innocent,  (incere, 

Of  every  friendless  name  the  friend. 

Yet  ftill  he  fills  affection's  eye, 

Obfcurely  wife  and  coarfely  kind  ; 
Nor  lettered  arrogance  deny 

Thy  praife  to  merit  unrefin'd. 

When  fainting  nature  call'd  for  aid, 

And  hovering  death  prepar'd  the  blow, 

His  vigorous  remedy  dil'play-'d 
The  power  of  art  without  the  (how. 

In  mifery's  darkeft  cavern  known, 

His  ufeful  care  was  ever  nigh, 
Where  hopelefs  anguifh  pour'd  his  groan, 

And  lonely  want  retir'd  to  die. 

Nofummons  mock'd  by  chill  delay, 

No  petty  gain  difdain'd  by  pride ; 
The  modeft  wants  of  every  day 

The  toil  of  every  day  fupply'd. 


POEMS, 


84, 


His  virtues  walk'd  their  narrow  round, 

Nor  made  a  paufe,  nor  left  a  void  ; 
And  lure  th'  Eternal  Mafter  found 

The  fingle  talent  well  employ'd. 

The  bufy  day— the  peaceful  night, 

Unfeit,  uncounted,  glided  by ; 
His  frame  was  firm — his  powers  were  bright, 

Though  now  his  eightieth  year  was  nigh. 

Then  with  no  fiery  throbbing  pain, 

No  cold  gradations  of  decay, 
Death  broke  at  once  the  vital  chain, 

And  freed  his  foul  the  neareft  way. 

EPITAPH 

•  N  CLAUDE  PHILLIPS, 

An  Itinerant  Mtifician*. 

PHILLIPS  !  whofe  touch  harmonious  could  remove 
The  pangs  of  guilty  pow'r  and  haplefs  love, 
Reft  here,  diftreft  by  poverty  no  more, 
Find  hers  that  calm  thou  gav'ft  fo.oft  before; 
Sleep  undifturb'd  within  this  peaceful  fhrine, 
Till  angels  wake  thee  with  a  note  like  thine. 

EPITAPHIUM 

IN  THOMAM    H.ANMER,    BARONETTUM. 

Honorabilisadmodum  THOMAS  HANMER, 

Baronnettus, 
XVilhelmi  Hanmer  armi<;eri  e  Peregrina  Henrici 

North 

De  Mildenhal  in  Com :  Suffolciae  Baronetti  forore 
et  haerede. 

Filius 
Johannis  Hanmer  de  Hanmer  Baronetti 

Haeres  patruelis 
Antiquo  gentisfuaeet  titulo,  et  patrimonio  fucceffit 

Duas  uxores  fortitus  eft ; 
Alteram  Ifabeham,  honore  a  parte  derivato  de 

Arlington  comitifTam 
Deincle  celciflimiprincipis  ducis  de  Graftonviduam 

dotariam 

Alteram  Elizabetham  Thomas  Folks  de  Barton  in 
Com.  Suff.  armigeri. 
Filiam  et  haeredem 

Inter  humanitates  ftudia  feliciter  enutritus 

Omnes  liberalium  artium  difciplinas  avide*  arripuit,v 

Quas  moruin  fuavitate  haud  leviter  ornavit. 

*  Thefe  lines  are  among  Mrs.  Williams' s  M\f- 
eellanies.  They  were  written  by  Johnfon  almi-ft 
extempore,  upon  Gun  ic^s  repealing  ait  Et>itapb 
tn  Phillips,  -by  a  Dr.  fViltes,  in  theft  tvordt : 

1  Exalted  foul '.  whole  harmony  could  pleafe 
*  The  love-lick  virgin,  and  the  gouty  eafe  ; 
'  Could  jarring  ditcord,  like  Amphion,  move 
'  To  beauieous  order,  and  harmonious  love, 
'  Reft  here  in  peace,  till  angels  bid  thee  rife, 
'  And  meet  thy  bleffed  Saviour  in  the  fkies. 

Phillips  was  a  travelling  jiddltr  up  and  down 

'  Wales,  ami  was  greatly  celebrated  for  bis  perform 
ance. 

VOL.  XL 


Poftquam  exceffit  et  ephebis 

Continue  inter  populares  fuos  faina  eminens 

Et  comttatus  fui  legatus  ad  Parliamentum  inifTus 

Ad  ardua  regni  negotia  per  annos  prope  triginta 

Si  accinxit 
Cumq.  apud  illos  ampliflimorum  virorum  ordines 

Solent  nihil  temere  effutire 
Sed  probe  perpenfa  differte  expromere 

Orator  gravis  et  prefi'us 
Non  minus  integritatis  quam  eloquentia  laude 

commendatus 
.iEque  omnium  utcunq.  inter  fe  alioqui  diffidentium 

Aures  atque  animos  attraxit 
Annoque  demum  M.DCC.XIII.  regnante  AnnS. 
Felicitiima,   florentiliimaeque   memor  x    rt-gina 

Ad  prolocutons  cathedram 
Communi  fenatus  univerfi  voce  defignatus  eft: 

Quod  munus 
Cum  nullo  tern  pore  uon  difficile 

Turn  illo  certe  negotiis 
Et  varus  et  lubricis  et  implicatus  difficillimum 

Cum  dignitate  fultinuit. 
Honoresalios,  etomnia.  quasfibiinlucrumcederentt 

munera 

Sedulo  detreftavit 
Ut  rei  totus  inferviret  publics 

Jufti  reclique  tcnas 

Et  fide  in  patriam  mcorrupta  notus. 

Ubi  omnibus,  quae  virum  civimque  bonum  decent 

officiis  fatis  feciflet, 
Paulatim  fe  a  publicis  confiliis  in  otium  redpiens 

Inter  literarum  amcenitates, 

Inter  ante-adtae  vitte  haud  infuaves  recordationes , 
Inter  amicorum  convuflus  et  ainplexus 

Honorifice  conlenuir, 

Et  bonis  omnibus,  quibus  chariflitnus  visit, 
Defideratiffimus  obirt. 

PARAPHRASE  OF  THE  ABOVE  EPITAPH. 

«Y  DR.  JOHNSON  *, 

TH«H  who  furvey'ft  thefe  walls  with  curious  eye, 
Paufe  at  this  tomb  where  HANMER'S  aflies  lie ; 
His  various  worth  through  varied  life  attend, 
And  learn  his  virtues  while  thou  mourn'lt  his  end. 

His  force  of  genius  burn'd  in  early  youth, 
With  thirft  of  knowledge,  and  with  love  01  truth; 
His  learning,  join'd  with  each  endearing  art, 
Charm'd  ev'ry  ear,  and  gain'd  on  ev'ry  heart. 

Thus  early  wife,  th*  enclanger'd  reaun  to  aid, 
His  country  call'd  him  fmm  the  i'udious  fliade  ; 
Jn  life's  firft  bioom  his  public  toils  bfgnn, 
At  once  comm  i:c'd  the  fenator  and  man. 

In  bulinf  is  dext'rous,  weighty  in  debate, 
Thrice  ten  long  years  he  labour'd  fjr  the  itate ; 
In  every  fpeech  perfunfive  wiidom  flow'd, 
In  every  art  refulgem  virtue  glow'd  : 
Sui'pended  faction  ceas'd  from  ra»e  and  ftrife, 
To  hear  his  eloquence,  and  j^aife  his  li.-'e. 

Rtliitlefs  merit  fix'd  the  fenate's  choice, 
Who  bail'd  him  Speaker  with  united  voice. 


*  This  Paraphraff  it  inferted  in  Mrs.  fVilliams 'r 
Mifccllanies.  The  Latin  is  there  fuid  to  be  writ-, 
ten  by  Dr.  Friend.  .Of  the  perfon  tub  ft  memory 
it  i'e!iiitai*s,  a  copious  account  niiij  L'ffeenin  the 
Appendix  to  the  Supplement  to  the  £iograpbi* 

Sritoaatfth 


THE   WORKS    OF   JOHNSON. 


Illuftriou*  age  !  how  bright  thy  glories  fhone, 
While   Hanmer  fiil'd  the  chair — and   Anne  the 
throne  I 

Then  when  darkartsobfcur'd  each  fierce  debate, 
When  mutual  frauds  perplex'd  the  maze  of  ftate, 
The  moderator  firmly  mild  appeared — 
Beheld  with  love — with  veneration  heard. 

This  tafk  perform 'd — he  fought  no  gainful  poft, 
Nor  wifli'd  to  glitter  at  his  country's  colt  ; 
Stric"l  on  the  right  he  fix'd  his  ftedfcft  eye, 
With  temperate  zeal  and  wife  anxiety  ; 
Nor  e'er  from  virtue's  paths  was  liir'd  afide, 
To  pluck  the  flow'rs  of  pleafure,  or  of  pride. 
Her  gifts  defpis'd,  corruption  blufh'd  and  fled, 
And  fame  purfu'd  him  where  conviction  led. 

Age  call'd,  at  length,  his  active  mind  to  reft, 
With  honour  fated,  and  with  cares  oppreft; 
To  letter'd  eafe  retir'd  and  h'oneft  mirth, 
To  rural  grandeur  and  dotneftic  worth  : 
Delighted  ftill  to  pleafe  mankind,  or  mend, 
The  patriot's  fire  yet  fparkled  in  the  friend. 

Calm  confcience  then,  his  former  life  furvey'd, 
And  recollected  toils  endear'd  the  (hade, 
Till  nature  call'd  him  to  the  general  doom, 
And  virtue's  forrow  dignified  his  tomb. 

TO  MISS  HICKMAN  *, 

PLAYING    ON    THE    SPINNET. 

BRIGHT  Stella,  form'd  for  univerfal  reign, 
Too  well  you  know  to  keep  the  flaves  you  gain  ; 
When  in  your  eyes  refiftlefs  lightnings  play, 
Aw'd  into  love  our  conquered  hearts  obey, 
And  yield  reludtant  to  defpotic  fway  : 
But  when  your  mufic  fooths  the  raging  pain, 
We  bid  propitious  Heav'n  prolong  your  reign, 
We  blefs  the  tyrant,  and  we  hug  the  chain. 

When  old  Timotheus  (buck  the  vocal  firing, 
Ambition's  fury  fir'd  the  Grecian  king : 
Unbounded  projects  lab'ring  in  his  mind, 
He  pants  for  room  in  one  poor  world  confin'd. 
Thus  wak'd  to  rage,  by  mufic's  dreadful  pow'r 
He  bids  the  fword  deftroy,  the  flame  devour. 
Had  Stella's  gentle  touches  mov'd  the  lyre, 
Soon  had  the  monarch  felt  a  nobler  fire  : 
No  more  delighted  with  deftructive  war, 
Ambitious  only  now  to  pleafe  the  fair; 
Refign'd  histhirft  of  empire  to  her  charms, 
And  found  a  thoufand  worlds  in  Stella's  arms. 

PARAPHRASE 

CF    PROV£RBS,    CHAP.    VI.      VERSES    6, II. 

"  Go  to  the  Ant,  tbou  Sluggard^.'' 

TURN  on  the  prudent  ant  thy  heedlefs  eyes, 
Obferve  her  labours,  fluggard,  and  be  wife: 

*  Tljefe  lines,  which  have  been  communicated 
ly  Dr.  Tnrton,  fan  to  Mrs.  Turton,  the  lady  to 
nu/jctn  they  are  addreffed  by  her  maiden  name  of 
Hickman,  mnjl  ka<ve  been  written  at  leajl  at  early 
as  the  year  1734,  as  that  ivas  the  year  of  her 
marriage-:  at  how  much  earlier  a  period  r-f 
John/on's  life  they  may  have  been  written,  is  not 
known. 

f  In  Mrs.  Williams' 's  JWfccllnnies,  but  now 
printed  from  the  original  in  Johnfons  own  hand- 
ivriting. 


I    , 

} 


No  ftern  command,  no  mnnitory  voice! 
Prefcribes  her  duties,  or  directs  her  choice  ; 
Yet  timely  provident,  the  haftes  away, 
To  fnatch  the  Wettings  of  the  plenteous  day ; 
When  fruitful  Summer  loads  the  teeming  plain, 
She  crops  the  harveft,  and  (he  (tores  the  grain. 
How  long  (hall  floth  ufurp  thy  uielefs  hours, 
Unnerve  thy  vigour,  and  enchain  thy  pow'rs  ? 
While  artful  (hades  thy  downy  couch  enclofe, 
And  foft  folicitation  courts  repofe. 
Amidft  the  drowfy  charms  of  dull  delight, 
Year  chafes  year  with  unremitted  flight, 
Till  want  now  following,  fraudulent  and  flow, 
Shall  fpring  to  feize  thte  like  an  ambufli'd  toe. 

HORACE, 

LIB.  IV.    ODE  VII.    TRANSLATED. 

THE  fnow  diflolv'd,  no  more  is  feen, 
The  fields  and  woods,  behold  1  are  green. 
The  changing  year  renews  the  plain, 
The  rivers  know  their  banks  again. 
The  fprightly  nymph  and  naked  grace 
The  mazy  dance  together  trace. 
The  changing  year's  facet  (five  plan 
Proclaims  mortality  to  man. 
Rough  Winter's  blafts  to  Spring  give  way, 
Spring  yields  to  Summer's  fovereign  ray; 
Then  Summer  finks  in  Autumn's  reign, 
And  Winter  chills  the  world  again  : 
Her  lofles  foon  the  moon  fupplies, 
But  wretched  man,  when  once  he  lies 
Where  Priam  and  his  fons  are  laid, 
Is  nought  but  allies  and  a  (hade. 
Who  knows  if  Jove,  who  counts  our  fcore, 
Will  tofs  us  in  a  morning  more  ? 
What  with  our  friend  you  nobly  (hare 
At  lead  you  refcue  from  your  heir. 
Not.  you  Torquatus,  boall  of  Rome, 
When  Minos  once  has  fix'd  your  doom, 
Or  eloquence,  or  iplendicl  birth, 
Or  virtue,  (hall  reltore  to  earth. 
Hippolytus,  unjuftly  (lain, 
Diana  calls  to  life  in  vain; 
Nor  can  the  might  of  Thefens  rend 
The  chains  of  hell  that  hold  his  friend. 
November  1784. 

ON  SEEING  A  BUST  OF  MRS.  MONTAGUE. 

HAD  this  fair  figure  which  this  frame  difplays, 
Adorn'd  in  Roman  time  the  brighteft  days, 
In  every  dome,  in  every  facred  place, 
Her  ftatue  would  have  breath'd  an  added  grace, 
And  on  its  bafis  would  have  been  enrolPd, 
"  This  is  Minerva,  caft  in  virtue's  mould." 


The  following  Tranjlations,  Parodies,  and  Bur- 
lefque  Verjes,  mojl  of  them  extempore,  are  tak 
en  from  Anecdotes  of  Dr.  John/on,  publijled, 
by  Mrs.  Pio*zi,  (formerly  Mrs.  ThraleJ  in 
8*0,  1785. 

ANACREON,  ODE  IX. 

LOVELY  courier  of  the  iky, 
Whence  and  whither  doft  thou  fly? 


r  o  E  M  s. 


Scatt'ring,  as  thy  pinions  play, 
Liquid  fragrance  all  the  way  s 
Is  it  bufinefs  ?    is  it  love  ? 
Tell  me,  tell  me,  gentle  dove. 
Soft  Anacreon's  vows  I  hear, 
Vows  to  Myrtale  the  fair; 
Grac'd  with  all  that  charms  the  heart, 
Blufhing  nature,  fmiling  art. 
Venus,  courted  by  an  ode, 
On  the  bard  her  dove  beftow'd : 
Vefted  with  a  matter's  right, 
Now  Anacreon  rules  my  flight ; 
His  the  letters  that  you  fee, 
Weighty  charge,  confign'd  to  me  : 
Think  not  yet  my  fervice  hard, 
Joylefs  talk  without  reward; 
Smiling  at  my  matter's  gates, 
Freedom  my  return  awaits ; 
But  the  liberal  grant  in  vain. 
Tempts  me  to  be  wild  again. 
Can  a  prudent  dove  decline 
Blifsful  bondage  fuch  as  .mine? 
Over  hills  and  fields  to  roam, 
Fortune's  gueft  without  a  home; 
Under  leaves  to  hide  one's  head, 
Slightly  fhelter'd,  coarfely  fed  : 
Now  my  better  lot  beftows 
Sweet  repatt,  and  foft  repofe  ; 
Now  the  generous  bowl  I  fip 
As  it  leaves  Anacreon's  lip  : 
Void  of  care,  and  free  from  dread, 
From  his  fingers  fnatch  his  bread  ; 
Then  with  lufcious  plenty  gay, 
Round  his  chamber  dance  and  play; 
Or  from  wine  as  courage  fprings, 
O'er  his  face  extend  my  wings ; 
And  when  feaft  and  frolic  tire, 
Drop  afleep  upon  his  lyre. 
This  is  all,  be  quick  arid  go, 
More  than  ail  thou  canft  not  know  ; 
Let  me  now  my  pinions  ply, 
I  have  chatter'il  like  a  pye. 

LINES 

Written  in  ridicule  of  certain  Poems,  publi/Jjed  in 
1777. ' 

WHERESOE'ER  I  turn  my  view, 
All  is  ftrange,  yet  nothing  new  ; 
Endlefs  labour  all  along, 
Endlefs  labour  to  be  wrong ; 
Phrafe  that  time  has  flung  away, 
Uncouth  words  in  difarray, 
Trick'd  in  antique  ruff"  and  bonnet, 
Ode,  and  elegy,  and  fonnet. 


PARODY  OF  A  TRANSLATION 

FROM  THE  MEDEA  OF  EURIPIDES. 

ERR  fliall  they  not,  who  refolute  explore 
Times  gloomy  backward  with  judicious  eyes; 


And  fcanning  right  the  practices  of  yore. 
Shall  deem  our  hoar  progenitors  unwiie. 

They  to  the  dome  where  fmoke  with  curling  play 
Announc'd  the  dinner  to  the  regions  round, 

Summon'd  the  finger  blythe,  and  harper  gay, 
And  aided  wine  with  dulcet-dreaming  found. 

The  better  ufe  of  notes,  or  fweet  or  (brill. 
By  quivering  firing  or  modulated  wind  ; 

Trumpet  or  lyre — to  their  harm  bofoms  chill, 
Admiflion  ne'er  had  fought,  or  could  not  find. 

Oh  !  fend  them  to  the  fullen  manfions  dun, 
Her  balefal  eyes  where  forrow  rolls  around  ; 

Where  gloom-enamour'd  mifchief  loves  to  dwell, 
And  murder,  all  blood-boher'd,  fchemes  the 
wound. 

When  cates  luxuriant  pile  the  fpacious  difli, 
And  purple  nedlar  glads  the  feftive  hour  ; 

The  gueft,  without  a  want,  without  a  wifh, 
Can  yield  no  room  to  mufic's  foothing  pow'r. 

BURLESQUE 

Of  the  Modern  Verifications  of  Ancient  Legen 
dary  Talcs. 

A,N  IMPROMPTU. 

THI  tender  infant  meek  and  mild, 

Fell  down  upon  the  ftone  ; 
The  nurfe  took  up  the  fquealing  child, 

But  ftill  the  child  fqueal'd  on. 

TRANSLATION 

Of  the  Two  Flrft  Stanzas  of  the  Song  "  Rio  verde, 
Rio  verde,"  printed  in  Bifltop  Percy's  Reliquet 
of  Ancient  Englifi  Poetry. 

AN  IMPROMPTU. 

GLASSY  water,  glafly  water, 
Down  whofe  current  clear  and  ftrong, 

Chiefs  confus'd  in  mutual  flaughter, 
Moor  and  Chriftian  roll  along. 

IMITATION  OF  THE  STYLE  OF « 

HERMIT  hoar,  in  folemn  cell 

Wearing  out  life's  evening  gray  ; 
Strike  thy  bofom  fage,  and  tell 

What  is  blifs,  and  which  the  way. 

This  I  fpoke,  and  fpeaking  figh'd, 

Scarce  reprefs'd  the  itarting  tear, 
When  the  hoary  fage  reply'd, 

Come,  my  lad,  and  drink  Come  beer. 

BURLESQUE 
Of  the  following  Lines  of  Lopez  de-Vega- 

AN  IMPROMPTU. 

SE  acquien  los  leones  vence 
Vence  una  muger  hermofa 


ffrl 


O  ella  di  fer  mas  furiofa. 

IF  the  man  who  turnips  cries 
Cry  not  when  his  father  dies, 
'Tis  a  proof  that  he  had  rather 
Have  a  turnip  than  his  father. 

TRANSLATION 

Of  the  foUoiting  Lines  at  the  End  of  Earettfs 
Eafy  Pbrafeology.          • 

AN  IMPROMPTU. 

VIVA  viva  la  padroria,  . 
Tutta  bella,  e  tutta  buona, 
la  padrona  e  un  angiolella 
Tutta  buona  e  tutta  bella  ; 
Tutta  bella  e  tutta  buona  ; 
Viva  !  viva  la  padrona  ! 

LONG  may  Jive  my  lovely  Hetty  I 
Always  young  and  always  pretty, 
Always  pretty,  always  young, 
Live  my  lovely  Hetty  long  ! 
Always  young  and  always  pretty, 
Long  may  live  my  lovely  Hetty  I 

IMPROVISO  TRANSLATION 

Of  the  following  Di/lich  on  the  Duke  of  Modena's 
running  away  from  the  Comet  in  1742  or  1743. 

SE  al  venir  voftro  i  principi  fe  n'  vanno 
I)eh  venga  ogni  di—  durate  un  annc. 

IF  at  your  coming  princes  difappear, 
Comers  I  come  every  day  —  and  ftay  a  year. 

IMPROVISO  TRANSLATION 

Of  the  following  Lines  of  Monf.'Benf  erode  "  3tjfoD 
**  lit." 

THEATIE  des  ris,  et  des  plenrs, 
Lit  l.ou  je  nais,  et  ou  je  meurs, 
Tu  neus  fais  voir  comment  voifins, 
Sont  nos  plaifirs,  et  nos  chagrins. 

IN  bed  we  laugh,  in  bed  xve  cry, 
And  born  in  bed,  in  bed  we  die  ; 
The  near  approach  a  bed  may  fliow       • 
Of  human  blifs  to  human  woe. 

EPITAPH  FOR  MR.  HOGARTH. 

THE  hand  of  him  here  torpid  lies, 

That  drew  th'  eflential  form  of  grace  ; 

Here  clos'd  in  death  th*  attentive  eyes, 
That  faw  the  manners  in  the  face. 

TRANSLATION 

Of  the  following  Lines  written  under  a  Print  re- 
prefenting  Perfons  flatting. 

Sun  un  mince  chryftai  1'hyver  conduit  leurs  pas 

Le  precipice  eft  fous  la  glace  ; 

Telle  eft  de  nos  plaifirs  la  legere  furface, 
Cliffez  mortels  5  u'  appuyez  pas, 


THE   WORKS   OF  JOHNSON. 

O'ER  ice  the  rapid  fkaiter  flies, 

With  fport  above  and  death  below ; 

Where  raifchief  lurks  in  gay  difguife, 
Thus  lightly  touch  and  quickly  go. 


IMPROMPTU  TRANSLATION 

Of  the  Same. 

O'ER  crackling  ice,  o'er  gulfs  profound, 
With  nimble  glide  the  fkaiters  play  ; 

O'er  treacherous  plealure's  flow'ry  ground 
Thus  lightly  Ikim,  and  hafte  away. 

TO  MRS.  THRALE, 

On  her  completing  her  Thirty-fifth  Tear. 

AN  IMPROMPTU. 

OFT  in  danger,  yet  alive, 

We  are  come  to  thirty-five  ; 

Long  may  better  years  arrive, 

Better  years  than  thirty-five.  / 

Could  philofophers  contrive 

Life  to  ftop  at  thirty-five, 

Time  his  hours  ftiould  never  drive 

O'er  the  bounds  of  thirty-five. 

High  to  foar,  and  deep  to  dive, 

Nature  gives  at  thirty-five. 

Ladies,  ftock  and  tend  your  hive, 

Trifle  not  at  thirty-five ; 

For,  howe'er  we  boaft  and  ftrive, 

Life  declines  from  thirty-five  : 

He  that  ever  hopes  to  thrive 

Muft  begin  by  thirty-five  ; 

And  all  who  wifely  wifli  to  xeive  , 

Muft  look  on  Thrale  at  thirty-five. 

IMPROMPTU 

On  beating  Mi/s  Thrale  confulting  with  a  Triend 
about  a  Goiva  and  Hat  Jbe  iv*s  inclined  t» 
'wear. 

WEAR  the  gown,  and  wear  the  hat, 
Snatch  thy  pleafures  while  they  laft; 

Hadft  thou  nine  lives,  like  a  cat, 
Soon  thofe  nine  lives  would  be  paft. 

IMPROMPTU  TRANSLATION 

Of  an  Air  in  the  Clemenza  de  Tito  of  Metajlajit, 
beginning,  "  Deh  fe  piacermi  vuoi." 

WoutD  you  hope  to  gain  my  heart, 
Bid  your  teazing  doubts  depart; 
He  who  blindly  trufts,  will  find 
Faith  from  every  generous  mind  : 
He  who  ftill  expects  deceit, 
Only  teaches  how  to  cheat. 

TRANSLATION 

Of  a  Speech  of  Aquileio,  In  the  Adriano  of  Me- 
tajlajio,  beginning,  "  Tu  che  in  Corte  inve- 
"  chiafti." 

GROWN  old  in  courts,  thou  art  not  furely  one 
Who  keeps  the  rigid  rules  of  ancient  honour ; 


POEMS. 


153 


Well  ikill'd  to  footh  a  foe  with  looks  of  kindncfs, 

To  fink  the  fatal  precipice  before  him, 

And  then  lament  his  fall  with  feeming  friendfliip  : 

Open  to  all,  true  only  to  thyfelf, 

Thou  know'ft  thofe  arts  which  blaft  with  envious 

praife, 

Which  aggravate  a  fault  with  feign'd  excufes, 
And  drive  difcountenanc'd  virtue  from  the  throne  : 
That  leave  the  blame  of  rigour  to  the  prince, 
And  of  his  ev'ry  gift  ufurp  the  merit ; 
That  hide  in  feeming  zeal  a  wicked  purpofe, 
And  only  build  upon  another's  ruin. 


The  following  Tran/lations  and  Mifcettaneous 
pieces  noiujirft  eollefied  into  Johnfen's  iu»rks, 
are  taken  from  the  Life  of  Samuel  Johnfon, 
LL.  D.  publijbed  by  James  Bofwell,  Eft/,  in 
a  vols.  4/0.  1701. 

TRANSLATION  OF  VIRGIL. 

PASTORAL    I. 

MeKbaus. 

Now,  Tityrus,  you,  fupine  and  carelefs  laid, 
Play  on  your  pipe  beneath  this  beechen  ftiade  ; 
While  wretched  we  about  the  world  muft  roam, 
And  leave  our  pleafing  fields  and  nativ£  home, 
Here  at  your  eafe  you  fing  your  amorous  flame, 
And  the  wood  rings  with  Amarillis'  name. 
Tityrus. 

Thofe  bleffings,  friend,  a  deity  beftow'd, 
For  I  fliall  never  think  him  lefs  than  God ; 
Oft  on  his  altar  fliall  my  firftlings  lie, 
Their  blood  the  confecrated  ftones  fliall  dye  : 
He  gave  my  flocks  to  graze  the  flowery  meads, 
And  me  to  tune  at  eafe  th'  unequal  reeds. 
Melibxvs. 

My  admiration  only  I  expreft, 
(No  fpark  of  envy  harbours  in  my  breaft) n 
That  when  confufion  o'er  the  country  reigns, 
To  you  alone  this  happy  ftate  remains. 
Here  I,  though  faint  myfelf,  muft  drive  my  goats, 
Far  from  their  ancient  fields  and  humble  cots. 
This  fcarce  I  lead,  who  left  on  yonder  rock 
Two  tender  kids,  the  hopes  of  all  the  flock. 
Had  we  not  been  perverfe  and  carelefe  grown, 
This  dire  event  by  omens  was  foreihown  ; 
Our  trees  were  blafted  by  the  thunder  ftroke,  ~) 
And  left-hand  crows,  from  an  old  hollow  oak,    > 
Foretold  the  coaling  evil  by  their  difrnal  croak.  J 

TRANSLATION  OF  HORACE, 

BOOKS  .     ODE  XXII. 

THE  man,  my  friend,  whofe  confcious  heart 

With  virtue's  facred  ardour  glows, 
JNor  taints  with  death  the  envenom'd  dart, 

Nor  needs  the  guard  of  Moorifh  bows: 

Though  Scythia's  icy  cliffs  he  treads, 

Or  horrid  Afric's  faith  lefs  fands  j 
Or  where  the  fam'd  Hydafpes  fpreads 

His  liquid  wealth  o'er  barbarous  lands. 


For  while  by  Chloe's  image  charm'd, 
Too  far  in  Sabine  woods  I  ftray'd  ; 

Me  finging,  carelefs  and  unarm'd, 
A  grifly  wolf  furpris'd,  and  fled. 

No  favage  more  portentous  ftain'd 
Apulia's  ipacious  wilds  with  gore  j 

None  fiercer  Juba's  thirfty  land, 
Dire  nurfe  of  raging  lions,  bore. 

Place  me  where  no  foft  fummer  gale 
Among  the  quivering  branches  fighs  ; 

Where  clouds  condens'd  for  ever  veil 
With  horrid  gloom  the  frowning  flues: 

Place  me  beneath  the  burning  line, 
A  clime  deny'd  to  human  race ; 

I'll  fing  of  Chloe's  charms  divine, 

Her  heav'nly  voice,  and  beauteous  face. 

TRANSLATION  OF  HORACE, 

BOOK  II.     ODE  JX. 

CLOUDS  do  not  always  veil  the  fkies, 
Nor  Ihowers  immerfe  the  verdant  plain  ; 

Nor  do  the  billows  always  rife, 
Or  florins  affliet  the  raffled  main. 

Nor,  Valgius,  on  th'  Armenian  fliores 
Do  the  chain'd  waters  always  freeze ; 

Not  always  furious  Boreas  roars, 

Or  bends  with  violent  force  the  trees. 

But  you  are  ever  drown'd  in  tears, 
ForMyftes  dead  you  ever  mourn; 

No  fetting  Sol  can  eafe  your  care, 
But  finds  you  fad  at  his  return. 

The  wife  experienc'd  Grecian  fage, 
Mourn'd  not  Antilochus  fo  long ; 

Nor  did  King  Priam's  hoary  age 
So  much  lament  his  ilaughter'd  fon. 

Leave  off,  at  length,  thefe  woman's  figh$, 
Auguitus'  numerous  trophies  fing ; 

Repeat  that  prince's  victories, 

To  whom  all  nations  tribute  bring. 

Niphates  rolls  an  humbler  wave, 

At  length  the  undaunted  Scythian  yields, 
Content  to  live  the  Romans'  flave, 

And  fcarce  forfakes  his  native  fields. 


Tranjlation  of  part  of  the  Dialogue  between 
Hcflor  and  Andromache  ;  from  the  Jixtb  Book 
of  Boater's  Iliad. 

SHE    ceas'd:    then    godlike     He&or    anfwer'd 

kind, — 

(His  various  plumage  fporting  in  the  wind) 
That  port,  and  all  the  reft,  fliall  be  my  care  ; 
But  fliall  I,  then,  forfake  the  unfinilh'd  war? 
How  would   the   Trojans  brand  great  Hector's 

name  ! 

And  one  bafe  action  fully  all  my  fame, 
Acquir'd  by  wounds,  and  battles  bravely  fought! 
Oh !  how  our  foul  abhors  fo  mean  a  though 


THE   WORKS   OF  JOHNSON. 


Long  have  I  learn'd  to  flight  this  fleeting  breath, 
And  view  with  cheerful  eyes  approaching  death. 
The  inexorable  fifters  have  decreed 
That  Priam's  houfe,  and  Priam's  felf  fhall  bleed: 
The  day  fhall  come,  in  which  proud  Troy  fhall 

yield, 

And  fpread  its  fmoking  ruins  o'er  the  field. 
Yet  Hecuba's,  nor  Priam's  hoary  age, 
Whofe  blood  fhall  quench  fome  Grecian's  thirfty 

rage, 

Nor  my  brave  brothers  that  have  bit  the  ground, 
Their  fouls  difmifs'dthrough  many  a  ghaftly  wound, 
Can  in  my  bofom  half  that  grief  create, 
As  the  fad  thought  of  your  impending  fate  : 
When  fome  proud  Grecian  dame  fhali  tafks  impofe, 
Mimic  your  tears,  and  ridicule  your  woes  : 
Beneath  Hyperia's  waters  fhall  you  fweat, 
And, fainting,  fcarce  fupport  the  liquid  weight: 
Then  fhall  fome  Argive  loud  infulting  cry, 
Behold  the  wife  of  Heclor,  guard  of  Troy  ! 
Tears,  at  my  name,  fhall  drown  thofe  beauteous 

eyes, 

And  that  fair  bofom  heave  with  rifing  fighs ! 
Before  that  day,  by  fome  brave  hero's  hand, 
May  I  lie  Cain,  and  fpurn  the  bloody  fand ! 

TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 

ON  HIR  BIRTH-DAY*. 

THIS  tributary  verfe,  receive,  my  fair, 

Warm  with  an  ardent  lover's  fondeft  prayer. 

May  this  returning  day  for  ever  find 

Thy  foim more  lovely,  more  adorn'd  thy  mind; 

All  pains,  all  cares,  may  favouring  Heav'n  remove, 

All  but  the  fweet  folicitudes  of  love  ! 

May  powerful  nature  join  with  grateful  art, 

To  point  each  glance,  and  force  it  to  the  heart ! 

O  then,  when  conquer'd  crowds  confefs  thy  fway, 

When  even  proud  wealth  and  prouder  wit  obey, 

My  fair,  be  mindful  of  the  mighty  truft, 

Alas  !  'tis  hard  for  beauty  to  be  juft. 

Thofe  fovereign  charms  with  ftri<5teft  care  employ; 

Nor  give  the  generous  pain,  the  worthlefs  joy  : 

With  his  own  form  acquaint  the  forward  fool, 

Shown  in  the  faithful  glafs  of  ridicule; 

Teach  mimic  cenfure  her  own  faults  to  find, 

No  more  let  coquettes  to  themfelves  be  blind, 

So  fhall  Belinda's  charms  improve  mankind. 

THE  YOUNG  AUTHOR  f. 

W-HKN  firft  the  peafant,  long  inclin'd  to  roam, 
Forfakes  his  rural  fports  and  peaceful  home, 
Pleas'd  with  the  fcene  the  fmiling  ocean  yields ; 
He  fcorns  the  verdant  meads  and  flow'ry  fields ; 
Then  dances  jocund  o'er  the  watery  way, 
While  the  breeze  whifpers,  and  the  ftreamers  play: 

*   This  -was  made  almoft  impromptu,  in  the  pr efface 
of  Mr.  HeSior. 

f  Alterations  in  the  copy  printed  in  tbt  "  Gentleman 's 
Magazine"  1743. 

Ver.  2,3,4,5. 

Forfakes  his  rural  feats  and  peaceful  home, 
Charm'd  with  the  fcene  the  fmiling  ocean  yields, 
He  fcorns  the  flow'ry  vales  and  verdant  fields  ; 
Jocund  he  dances  o'er  the  wat'ry  way. 


Unbounded  profpects  in  his  bofom  roll, 

And  future  millions  lift  his  riling  foul ; 

In  blifsful  dreams  he  digs  the  golden  mine, 

And  raptur'd  fees  the  new-found  ruby  fhine.     le 

Joys  infincere  i  thick  clouds  invade  the  fkies, 

Loud  roar  the  billows,  high  the  waves  arife ; 

Sick'ning  with  fear,  he  longs  to  view  the  fhore, 

And  vows  to  truft  the  faithlefs  deep  no  more. 

So  the  young  author,  panting  after  fame, 

And  the  long  honours  of  a  lafting  name, 

lutrtifls  hishappinefs  to  human  kind, 

More  falfe,  more  cruel,  than  the  feas  or  wind. 

«'  Toil  on,  dull  crowd,  in  ccftafies  he  cries, 

For  wealth  or  title,  perifhable  prize;  20 

While  I  thofe  tranfitory  blcflings  fcorn, 

Secure  of  praift  from  ages  yet  unborn."          [late, 

This  thought  once  form'd,  all  counfel  comes  too 

He  flies  to  prefs,  and  hurries  on  his  fate ; 

Swiftly  he  fees  the  imagin'd  laurels  fpread, 

And  feels  the  unfading  wreath  furround  his  head. 

Warn'd  by  another's  fate,  vain  youth,  be  wife, 

Thofe  dreams  were  Settle's  once,  and  Ogilby's ! 

The  pamphlet  fprcads,  inceffant  hiffes  rile, 

To  fome  retreat  the  baffled  writer  flies ;  33 

Where  no  four  critics  fnarl,  no  fneers  moleft, 

Safe  from  the  tart  lampoon,  and  flinging  jefl ;  j 

There  begs  of  Heav'n  a  lefs  diftinguifh'd  lot, 

Glad  to  be  hid,  and  proud  to  be  forgot. 

EPILOGUE, 

Intended  to  have  leen  fpoten  by  a  Lady,  "who  ivas  to 
perfoiiate  the  Ghujl  of  Hcrmoine  \. 

YE  blooming  train,  who  give  defpair  or  joy, 
Blefs  with  a  fmile,  or  with  a  frown  deflroy ; 
In  whofe  fair  cheeks  deflruclive  Cupids  wait, 
And  with  unerring  fhafts  diftribute  fate  ; 
Whofe  fnowy  breafts,  whole  animated  eyes, 
Each  youth  admires,  though  each  admirer  dies ; 
Whilfl  you  deride  their  pangs  in  barb'rous  play,"} 
Unpitying  fee  them  weep,  and  hear  them  pray,    J- 
And  unrelenting  fport  ten  thoufand  lives  away  ;j 
For  you,  ye  fair,  I  quit  the  gloomy  plains, 
Where  fable  night  in  all  her  horror  reigns ; 

Ver.  12. 
Loud  roars  the  tempeft,  high  the  billows  rife. 

Ver.  15,  16. 

So  the  young  author  panting  for  a  name, 
And  fir'd  with  pleafing  hope  of  endlefs  fame. 

Ver.  19. 
'  Toil  on,  dull  crowd,  in  ecflacy,  he  cries. 

Ver.  21,  22. 

'  While  I  thefe  tranfitory  bleffings  fcorn, 
'  Secure  of  praife  from  nations  yet  unborn.' 

Ver.  24. 
He  plies  the  prefs,  and  hurries  on  his  fate. 

Ver.  26. 
He  feels  th'  unfading  wreath  furround  his  head. 

Ver.  28. 
Thefe  dreams  were  Settle's  once  and  Ogilby's. 

Ver.  31,32. 

Where  no  four  critics  damn,  nor  fneers  moleft, 
Safe  from  the  keen  lampoon  and  flinging  jeft. 

\  Some  young  ladies  at  Litcbfield  having  propofed  to 
afl  "  'The  Dijlre/cd  Mather"  Johnfon  wrote  ibis, 
and  nave  it  to  Mr.  Heftor  to  convey  privately  to  them* 


POEMS. 


No  fragrant  bowers,  no  delightful  glades, 
Receive  th'  unhappy  ghofts  of  fcornful  maids. 
For  kind,  for  tender  nymphs  the  myrtle  blooms, 
And  weaves  herbending  boughs  in  pleafing  glooms; 
Perennial  rofes  deck  each  purple  vale, 
And  fcents ambrofial  breathe  in  every  gale : 
Far  hence  are  banifli'd  vapours,  fplecn,  and  tears, 
Tea,  fcandal,  ivory  teeth,  and  languid  airs; 
No  pug,  nor  favourite  Cupid  there  enjoys 
The  balmy  kifs,  for  which  poor  Thyrfis  dies ; 
Form'd  to  delight,  they  ufe  no  foreign  arms, 
Nor  torturing  whalebones  pinch  them  into  charms; 
No  confcious  blufhes  there  their  cheeks  inflame, 
vFor  thofe  who  feel  no  guilt  can  know  no  fhame ; 
Unfaded  ftill  their  former  charms  they  (how, 
Around  them  pleafures  wait,  and  joys  forever  new. 
But  cruel  virgins  meet  feverer  fates  ; 
Expell'd  and  exil'd  from  the  blifsful  feats, 
To  difmal  realms,  and  regions  void  of  peace, 
Where  furies  ever  howl,  and  ferpents  hifs, 
O'er  the  fad  plains  perpetual  tempefts  figh  ; 
And  pois'nous  vapours,  black'ning  all  the  iky, 
With  livid  hue  the  faireft  face  o'ercaft, 
And  every  beauty  withers  at  the  blaft. : 
Where'er  they  fly  their  lover's  ghofts  purfue, 
Inflicting  all  thofe  ills  which  once  they  knew ; 
Vexation,  fury,  jealoufy,  defpair, 
Vex  ev'ry  eye,  and  ev'ry  bofom  tear; 
Their  foul  deformities  by  all  defcry'd, 
No  maid  to  flatter,  and  no  paint  to  hide. 
Then  melt,  ye  fair,  while  crowds  around  you  figh, 
Nor  let  difdain  fit  lowring  in  your  eye  ; 
With  pity  foften  every  awful  grace, 
And  beauty  fmile  aufpicious  in  each  face ; 
To  eafe  their  pains  exert  your  milder  power, 
So  (hall  you  guiltlefs  reign,  and  all  mankind  adore' 

FRIENDSHIP: 

-  AN    ODE. 
Printed  in  the*'  Gentleman*  Magazine."*  1743. 

FRIENDSHIP,  peculiar  boon  of  heaven, 
The  noble  mind's  delight  and  pride, 

To  men  and  angsls  only  given, 
To  all  the  lower  world  deny'd. 

While  love,  unknown  among  the  bleft, 

Parent  of  thoufand  wild  defires, 
The  favage  and  the  human  brcaft 

Torments  alike  with  raging  fires. 

With  bright,  but  oft  deftiuctive  gleam, 

Alike  o'er  all  his  lightnings  fly, 
Thy  lambent  glories  only  beam 

Around  the  fav'rites  of  the  fley. 

Thy  gentle  flows  of  guiltlefs  joys 
Oil  fools  and  villains  n^'cj  defcend, 


In  vain  for  thee  the  tyrant  fighs, 
And  hugs  a  flatterer  for  a  friend. 

Directrefs  of  the  brave  and  juft, 

O  guide  us  through  life's  darkfome  way! 

And  let  the  tortures  of  miftruft 
On  felfifh  bofoms  only  prey. 

Nor  (hall  thine  ardours  ceafe  to  glow, 
When  fouls  to  peaceful  climes  remove  : 

What  rais'd  our  virtue  here  below, 
Shall  aid  our  happinefs  above. 

TO  A  LADY  *. 

WHO    SPOKJt  IN   DEFENCE    OF  LIBERTY. 

LIBER  uteffevelim,  fuafifti,  pulchra  Maria, 
Ut  maneam  liber,  pulchra  Maria,  vale. 

AD  LAURAM  PARITURAM  EPIGRAM- 
MA  f. 

ANGLIACUS  inter  pulcherrima  Laura  puellas, 
Mox  uteri  pondus  depofitura  grave, 

Adfit,  Laura,  tibi  facilis  Lucina  dolenti, 
Neve  tibi  noceat  pranituifle  Deae. 

O  QJJI  perpetua  mundum  ratione  gubernas, 

Terrarum  ccelique  fator! 

Disjice  terrenx  nubulas  et  pondera  molis, 
Atque  tuo  fplendore  mica !     Tu  namque  ferenum, 
Tu  requies  tranquilla  piis.     Te  cernere  finis, 
Principium,  vedtor,  dux,  femita,  terminus,  idem. 

O  THOU  whofe  power  o'er  moving  worldsprefides, 

Whofe  roice  created,  and  whofe  wifdom  guides, 

On  darkling  man  in  pure  effulgence  fhine, 

And  cheer  the  clouded  mind  with  light  divine. 

'Tis  thine  alone  to  calm  the  pious  breaft, 

With  filent  confidence  and  holy  reft; 

From  thee,  great  God !    we  fpring,   to  thee  we 

tend, 
Path,  motive,  guide,  original,  and  end. 

EPIGRAM 

ON    GEORGE  II.    AND    COLLEY  CIBBER,   ESq. 
POET  LAUREAT. 

AUGUSTUS  ftill  furvives  in  Maro's  ftrain, 
And  Spenfer's  verfe  prolongs  Eliza's  reign, 
Great  George's  ads  let  tuneful  Cibber  fing  ; 
For  nature  Form'd  the  poet  for  the  king. 

*  Mifs  Molly  Ajlon. 

f  Mr.  Heflor  ivas  prefent  tvhen  this  epigram  -was 
made  impromptu.  Tie  jirjl  line  -war  propoffd  by  Dr. 
JamfS)  and  Johnfon  -was  called  upon  by  the  company  /• 
f.nijb  it,  vjbicb  be  injicntly  did. 

3  H  »y 


THE   WORKS   OF   JOHNSON, 


IRENE,  A  TRAGEDY. 

PERFORMED  AT  DRURY-L  -  NE  THEATRE,  IN  THE  YEAR  M.DCC.XLIX. 


PERSONS  OF  THE  DRAMA. 


MAHOMET, 

Emperor  of  the  Turks, 

CALI  BASS  A, 

Firtt  Vifier, 

MUSTAPHA, 

A  Turkifh  Aga, 

ABDALLA, 

An  Officer, 

HASAN, 
CAK.AZA, 

£  Turkifh  Captains, 

DEMETRIUS. 
LEONTIUS. 

>  Greek  Noblemen, 

MURZA, 

An  Eunuch, 

MR. 
MR. 
MR. 
MR. 
5MR. 

IMS.. 

5  MR. 
MR. 


BARRY. 
BERRY. 

SoWDEN. 

HAVARD. 

UsHtR. 

BURTON. 

GARRICK. 

BLAKIS. 


WOMEN. 

ASP  ASIA          7  r      .  T    ,.  CMRS.  GIBBER. 

to  fvri?  f  Greek  Ladies.  -}., 

IRENE,  i  £MRS.  PRJTCHAR*. 

ATTENDANTS  on  IRENE. 


PROLOGUE. 

YE  glitt'ring  train  !  whom  lace  and  velvet  blefs, 
Sufpend  the  foft  folicitudes  of  drefs; 
From  grov'ling  bufinefs  and  fuperfluous  care, 
Ye  fons  of  avarice  !  a  moment  fpare  : 
Vot'ries  of  fame  and  worfhippers  of  pow'r  ! 
Difmifs  the  plealing  phantoms  for  an  hour. 
Our  daring  bard,  with  fpirit  unconfin'd, 
Spreads  wide  the  mighty  moral  of  mankind. 
Learn  here  how  heav'n  fupports  the  virtuous  mind, 
Daring,  though  calm ;  and  vigorous,  though  re- 

fign'd. 

Learn  here  what  anguifli  racks  the  guilty  breaft, 
In  pow'r  dependent,  in  fuccefs  depreit. 
Learn  here  that  peace  from  innocence  muft  flow  ; 
Ail  e!fe  is  emoty  found,  and  idle  fliow. 

If  truths  like  thefe  with  pleafing  language  join; 
Ennobled,  yet  unchang'd,  if  nature  (him- : 
If  no  wild  draught  depart  from  reafon's  rules, 
Nor  gods  his  heroes,  nor  his  lovers  fools  : 
Intriguing  wits  '   his  artlefs  plot  forgive  ; 
And  fpare  him,  beauties !   though  his  lovers  live. 

Be  this  at  leaft  hi?  pr«ife  ;  be  this  his  pride  ; 
To  force  applaufe  no  modern  arts  are  try'd. 
Should  partial  cat-calls  all  his  hopes  confound, 
He  bids  no  trumpet  quell  the  fatal  found. 
Should  welcome  fleep  relieve  the  weary  wit. 
He  rolls  no  thunders  o'er  the  drowfy  pit. 
ISofnares  to  captivate  the  judgment  fpreads; 
Nor  bribes  your  eyes  to  prejudice  your  heads. 
Unmov'd  though  witlings  fneer  and  rivals  rail ; 
Studious  to  pleafe,  yet  not  afham'd  to  fail. 
Hefcorm  the  meek  addrefs,  the  fuppliant  ftrain, 
With  merit  needlefs,  and  without  it  vain. 


In  reafcn,  naturp,  truth  he  dares  to  truft  : 
Ye  fops,  be  filent !  and  ye  wits,  be  juft  ! 

ACT  I.— SCENE  I. 
DEMETRIUS  and  LEONTIUS  in  Turkifli  Habits. 

Leontiui. 

AND  is  it  thus  Demetrius  meets  his  friend, 
Hid  in  the  mean  difguile  of  Turkifli  robes, 
With  fervile  fecrecy  to  lurk  in  fhades, 
And  vent  our  fufPrings  in  clandeftine  groans? 

Demetrius. 

Till  breathlefs  fury  refted  from  deftruclion 
Thefe  groans  were  fatal,  thefe  difguifes  vain  : 
But  now  our  Turkifh  conquerors  have  quench'd 
Their  rage,  and  pall'd  their  appetite  of  murder; 
No  more  the  glutted  fabre  thirfts  for  blood, 
And  weary  cruelty  remits  her  tortures. 

L.eontius. 

Yet  Greece  enjoys  no  gl^am  of  tranfient  hope, 
No  foothing  interval  of  peaceful  forrow  ; 
The  luit  01  gold  futceeds  the  rage  of conqueft, 
The  luft  of  gold,  unfeeling  and  remorfelefs  I 
The  laft  corruption  of  degenerate  man  ! 
Urg'd  by  th'  imperious  foldier's  fierce  command, 
The  groaning  Greeks  break  up  their  golden' ca 
verns  [envy- 
Pregnant  with  ftores,  that  India's  mines  mi^ht 
Th'  accumulated  wealth  of  toiling  ages. 

Demetrius, 

That  wealtrl,  too  facred  for  their  country's  ufe  ! 
That  wealth,  top  pleafing  to  be  loft   for  free, 
dom ! 


IRENE. 


That  wealth,  which  granted  to  their   Weeping 

prince, 

Had  rang'd  embattled  nations  at  our  gates : 
But  thus  referv'd  to  lure  the  wolves  of  Turkey, 
Adds  fhame  to  grief,  and  infamy  to  ruin. 
Lamenting  av'nce  now  too  late  difcovers 
Her  own  neglected,  in  the  public  fafety. 

LfOlltlUt. 

Reproach  not  mifery — The  fons  of  Greece, 
Ill-fated  race  !  fo  oft  befieg'd  in  vain, 
With  falfe  fecurity  beheld  invafion. 
Why  fhould  they  fear?— That  power  that  kind 
ly  tpreads 

The  clouds,  a  fignal  of  impending  fliow'rs, 
To  warn  the  wand'ring  linnet  to  the  fhade, 
Beheld  without  concern  expiring  Greece, 
And  not  one  prodigy  foretold  our  fate. 

Demetriut. 

A  thousand  horrid  prodigies  foretold  it. 
A  feeble  government,  eluded  laws, 
A  factious  populace,  luxurious  nobles, 
And  all  the  maladies  of  finking  ftates. 
When  public  villany,  too  ftrong  for  juftice, 
Shows  his  bold  front,  the  harbinger  of  ruin, 
Can  brave  Leontius  call  for  airy  wonders, 
Which  cheats  interpret,  and  which  fools  regard  ? 
When  fome  neglected  fabric  nods  beneath 
The  weight  of  years,  and  totters  to  the  tempeft, 
Muft  heaven  difpatch  the  mefiengers  of  light, 
Or  wake  the  dead  to  warn  us  of  its  fall  ? 

Leontius. 

Well  might  the  weaknefs  of  our  empire  fink 
Before  fuch  foes  of  more  than  human  force  ; 
Some  pow'r  invifible,  from  heav'n  or  hell, 
Conducts  their  armies  and  afferts  their  caufe. 

Demetriut. 

And  yet,  my  friend,  what  miracles  were  wrought 
Beyond  the  power  of  conftancy  and  courage  ? 
Did  unrefifted  lightning  aid  their  cannon  ? 
Did  roaring  whirlwinds. fweep  us  from  the  ram 
parts? 
'Twas  vice   that  fliook   our  nerves,  Iwas  vice, 

Leontius, 
That  froze  our  veins,  and  wither'd  all  our  powers. 

Ltontiui. 
Whate'er  our  crime?,  our  woes  demand  compaf- 

fion. 

Each  ni^ht,  protected  by  the  friendly  darknefs, 
Quitting  my  clofe  retreat.  I  range  the  city, 
And  weeping,  fcifs  the  venerable  ruins: 
With  filent  pangs  I  view  the  tow'ring  domes, 
Sacred    to    prayer,    and   wander    through    the 

ftreets;      . 

Where  commerce  lavifh'd  unexhaufted  plenty, 
And  jollity  maintain'd  eternal  revels.— 

Demetrius. 

—How  chang'd,  alas  !— Now  ghaflly  defolation 
In.  triumph  fits  upon  our  fliatter'd  fpires; 
Now  fuperftition,  ignorance,  and  error, 
Ufurp  our  temples,  and  profane  our  altars. 

Leontius. 

From  ev'ry  palace  burlt  a  mingled  clamour, 
The  dreadful  diflbnance  of  barb'rous  triumph, 
Shneks  of  affright,  and  waitings  of  diftrefs. 
Oft  vben  the  cries  of  violated  beauty 
Arofe  to  heav'n,  and  pierc'd  my  bleeding  bread, 
J  felt  thy  pains,  and  trembled  for  Afpafia, 


Demetrius. 

Afpafia  :  fpare  that  :ov'd,  that  nujurnful  name : 
Dear  haplefs  maid — tempeftous  griet  o'erbears 
My  reafoning  pow'rs — Dear,  haplels,  loft  Aipafia! 

Leontius. 
Swlpend  the  thought. 

•  Demetrius. 

All  thought  on  her  is  madnefs: 
Yet  let  me  think — I  fee  the  helplefs  maid, 
Behold  the  monfters  gaze  with  lavage  rapture, 
Behold  how  luft  and  rapine  ftruggle  round  her. 

Leant  tus. 

Awake,  Demetrius,  from  this  difmal  dream, 
Sink  not  beneath  imaginary  forrows: 
Cnll  to  your  aid  your  courage,  and  your  wifdom ; 
Think  on  the  fudden  change  of  human  fcents ; 
Think  on  th^  various  accidents  of  war; 
Think  on  the  mighty  pow'r  of  awful  virtue  ; 
Think  on  that  providence  that  guards  the  good. 

Demetrius.  , 

O  Providence  !  extend  thy  care  to  me, 
For  courage  droops  unequal  to  the  combat, 
And  weak  philofophy  denies  her  fuccours. 
Sure  fome  kind  fabre  in  the  heat  of  battle, 
Ere  yet  the  foe  found  leifure  to  be  cruel, 
Difmifs'd  her  to  the  Iky. 

Leontius.  < 

Some  virgin  martyr, 

Perhaps,  enamour'd  of  refemblmg  virtue, 
With  gentle  hand  reftrain'd  the  frreams  of  life, 
And  fr.atch'd  her  timely  from  her  country's  fate. 

Demetrius. 

From  thofe  bright  regions  of  eternal  day, 
Where  now  thou  (hin'ft  among  thy  fellow-faints, 
Array'd  in  purer  light,  look  down  on  me  : 
In  pleafing  vifions,  and  alfuafive  dreams, 

0  footh  my  foul,  and  teach  me  how  to  lofe  thee. 

l.etntiut. 
Enough  of  unavailing  tears,  Demetrius; 

1  came  obedient  to  thy  friendly  fummons, 

And  hop'd  to  fliare  thy  counfels,  not  thy  forrows : 
While  thus  we  mourn  the  fortune  of  Afpafia, 
To  what  are  we  referv'd  ? 

Dtmetrius. ' 

To  what  I  know  not : 

But  hope,  yet  hope,  to  happinefs  and  honour; 
If  happinefs  can  be  without  Afpafia. 

Leontius. 
But  whence  this  new-fprung  hope  ! 

Demetriut. 

From  Cali  Bafla : 
The  chief,  whofe  wifdom  guides  the  Turkifli  coun- 

fels. 

He,  tir'd  of  flav'ry,  though  the  higheft  flave, 
Projects  at  once  our  freedom  and  his  own  ; 
And  bids  us  thus  difguis'd  await  him  here. 

Lesntiut. 

Can  he  reftore  the  ftate  he  could  not  favc  ? 
In  vain,  when  Turkey's  troops  aflail'd  our  walls, 
His  kind  intelligence  betray 'd  their  raeafures  ; 
1'heir  arms  prevail'd,  though  Cali  was  our  friend. 

Demetrius. 

When  the  tenth  fun  had  fet  upon  our  forrows, 
At  midnight's  private  hour  a  voice  unknown 
Sounds  in  my  fleeping  ear,  "  Awake,  Demttrius, 
"  Awake,  and  follow  me  to  better  fortunes  ;" 
Surpris'd  I  ftart,  and  blefs  the  happy  dream; 


Ss*  THE  WORKS 

Then  routing  know  the  fiery  Chief  Abdalla, 
Whofe  quick  impatience  feiz'd  my  doubtful  hand, 
And  led  me  to  the  fhore  where  Cali  flood, 
Penfive  and  lift'ning  to  the  beating  furge. 
There  in  foft  hints  and  in  ambiguous  phrafe, 
With  all  the  diffidence  of  long  experience, 
That  oft  had  pra&is'd  fraud,  and  oft  detected1, 
The  vet'ran  courtier  half  reveal'd  his  project. 
By  his  command,  equipp'd  for  fpeedy  flight, 
Deep  in  a  winding  creek  a  galley  lies, 
Mann'd  with  the  braveft  of  our  fellow  captives, 
Selected  by  my  care,  a  hardy  band, 
That  long  to  hail  thee  chief. 

Leoniiui. 

But  what  avails 

So  fmall  a  force  ?  or  why  fliould  Cali  fly  ? 
Or  how  can  Call's  flight  reftore  our  country  ? 

Demetrius. 

Referve  thefe  queftions  for  a  fafer  hour, 
Or  hear  himfelf,  for  fee  the  Bafia  comes. 

SCENE  II. 

DEMETRIUS,  LEONTIUS,  CALI  BASSA. 

Cali. 

Now  fummon  all  thy  foul,  illuftriousChriftian  ! 
Awake  each  faculty  that  fleeps  within  thee, 
The  courtier's  policy,  the  Cage's  firmnefs, 
The  warrior's  ardour,  and  the  patriot's  zeal ; 
If  chafing  paft  events  with  vain  purfuit, 
Or  wand'ring  in  the  wilds  of  future  being, 
A  fingle  thought  now  rove,  recal  it  home. 
But  can  thy  friend  fuftain  the  glorious  caufe, 
The  caufe  of  liberty,  the  caufe  of  nations  ? 

Demttriut. 

Obferve  him  clofely  with  a  (latefman's  eye, 
Thou  that  haft  long  perus'd  the  draughts  of  na 
ture, 

And  know'ft  the  characters  of  vice  and  virtue, 
Left  by  the  hand  of  heav'n  on  human  clay. 

Cali. 

His  mien  is  lofty,  his  demeanour  great, 
Nor  fprightly  folly  wantons  in  his  air. 
Nor  dull  ferenity  becalms  his  eyes. 
Such  had  I  trufted  once  as  foon  as  feen, 
But  cautious  age  fufpe&s  the  flatt'ring  form, 
And  only  credits  what  experience  tells. 
Has  filence  prefs'd  her  feal  upon  his  lips  ? 
Does  adamantine  faith  inveit  his  heart  ? 
Will  he  not  bend  beneath  a  tyrant's  frown  ? 
Will  he  not  melt  before  ambition's  fire  ? 
Will  he  not  foften  in  a  friend's  embrace  ? 
Or  flow  diflblving  in  a  woman's  tears  ? 

Demetrius. 

Sooner  thefe  trembling  leaves  fhall  find  a  voice, 
And  tell  the  fecrets  of  their  confcious  walks ; 
Sooner  the  breeze  fliall  catch  the  flying  founds, 
And  fhock  the  tyrant  with  a  tale  of  treafon. 
Your  flaughter'd  multitudes  that  fwell  the  fliore, 
With  monuments  of  death  proclaim  his  courage ; 
"Virtue  and  liberty  engrofs  his  foul, 
And  leave  no  place  for  perfidy  or  fear, 

Leant  ins. 

I  fcorn  a  truft  unwillingly  repos'd ; 
Demetrius  will  not  lead  me  to  dishonour ; 
Confult  in  private,  call  me  when  your  fcheme 
j(s  ripe  for  action,  and  demands  the  fword.  [Going, 


OF  JOHNSON. 

DtmctriuT, 
Leontius,  (lay. 

Cali. 

Forgive  an  old  man's  weaknefs, 
And  (hare  the  dcepeft  fecrets  of  my  foul, 
My  wrongs,  my  fears,  my  motives,  my  defigns.— 
When  unfuccefsful  wars,  and  civil  factions, 
Embroil'd  the  Turkifti  ftate— our  fultan's  father 
Great  Amurath,  at  my  requeft,  forfook 
The  cloifter's  eafe,  refum'd  the  tott'ring  throne, 
And  fnatch'd  the  reigns  of  abdicated  pow'r 
From  giddy  Mahomet's  unfkilful  hand. 
This  fir'd  the  youthful  king's  ambitious  breaft, 
He  murmurs  vengeance  at  the  name  of  Cali, 
And  dooms  my  rafli  fidelity  to  ruin. 

Demetriut. 

Unhappy  lot  of  all  that  fhine  in  courts  ; 
For  forc'd  compliance,  or  for  zealous  virtue. 
Still  odious  to  the  monarch  or  the  people. 

Cali. 

Such  are  the  woes  when  arbitrary  pow'r, 
And  lawlefs  paflion  hold  the  fword  of  juftice. 
If  there  be  any  land,  as  fame  reports, 
Where  common  laws  reftrain  the  prince  and  fub- 

je<a, 

A  happy  land,  where  circulating  pow'r 
Flows  through  each  member  of  th'  embodied  ftate, 
Sure,  not  unconfcious  of  the  mighty  blefling, 
Her  grateful  fous  Ihine  bright  with  ev'ry  virtue  ; 
Untainted  with  the  luft  of  innovation, 
Sure  all  unite  to  hold  her  league  of  rule 
Unbroken  as  the  facred  chain  of  nature, 
That  links  the  jarring  elements  in  peace. 

Letntlui. 

But  fay,  great  Bafla,  why  the  fultan's  anger, 
Burning  in  vain,  delays  the  ftroke  of  death  ? 

Cali. 

Young,  and  unfettled  in  his  father's  kingdoms, 
Fierce  as  he  was,  he  dreaded  to  deftroy 
The  empire's  darling,  and  the  foldier's  boaft ; 
But  nowconfirm'd,  and  fwelling  withhisconqueftj, 
Secure  he  tramples  my  declining  fame, 
Frowns  unreftrain'd,  and  dooms  me  with  his  eyes. 

Dsmetrius. 
What  can  reverfe  thy  doom  ? 

Cali. 

The  tyrant's  death. 
Demetrius. 
But  Greece  is  (till  forgot. 

Cali. 

On  Ada's  coaft, 

Which  lately  blefs'd  my  gentle  government, 
Soon  as  the  fultan's  unexpected  iate 
Fills  all  th'  aftonifh'd  empire  with  confufion, 
My  policy  (hall  raife  an  eafy  throne  ; 
The  Turkifti  pow'rs  from  Europe  (hall  retreat, 
And  harai's  Greece  no  more  with  warteful  war. 
A  galley  maim'd  with  Greeks,  thy  charge  Le 
ontius, 
Attends  to  waft  us  to  repofe  and  fafety. 

Demetrius. 

That  veflel,  if  obferv'd,  alarms  the  court, 
And  gives  a  thoufand  fatal  queftions  birth  ; 
Why  ftor'd  for  flight  ?  and  why  prepar'd  by  Cali? 

Cali. 

This  hour  I'll  beg,  with  unfufpecled  face, 
Leave  to  perform  my  pilgrimage  to  Mecca ; 


IRENE. 


*5f 


Which  granted,  hides  my  purpofe  from  the  world, 
And,  though  refus'd,  conceals  it  from  the  lultan. 

Demetrius. 

How  can  a  fingle  hand  attempt  a  life 
'Which  armies  guard,  and  citadels  enclofe  ? 

Cdi. 

Forgetful  of  command,  with  captive  beauties, 
Far  from  his  troops,  he  toys  his  hours  away. 
A  roving  foldier  i'eiz'd  in  Sophia's  temple 
A  virgin  {hilling  with  difiinguifli'd  charms, 
And  brought  his  beauteous  plunder  to  the  Sultan. 

Dtmetriut. 
In  Sophia's  temple  ! — What  alarm  ! — Proceed. 

Call. 

The  fultan  gnz'd,  he  wonder'd,  and  he  lov'd; 
In  paifion  loft,  he  bade  the  conquering  fair 
Renounce  her  faith,  and  be  the  queen  of  Turkey  ; 
The  pious  maid,  with  modeft  indignation, 
Threw  back  the  glitt'ring  bribe. 
Deiitetriui. 
Celeftial  goodnefs ! 
It  muftj  it  mufl  be  (he  ;  her  name  ? 

Call. 

Afpafia. 

Dsmctrius. 

What  hopes,  what  terrors  rufh  upon  my  foal ! 
O  lead  me  quickly  to  the  fcene  of  fate  ; 
Break  through  the  politician's  tedious  forms, 
Afpafia  calls  me,  let  me  fly  to  fave  her. 

Leontius. 
Did  Mahomet  reproach  or  praife  her  virtue  ? 

Call. 

His  offers  oft  repeated,  ftill  refus'd, 
At  length  rekindled  his  accuftom'd^fury,  [whifper 
And  chang'd  th'  endearing    fmile   and  am'rous 
To  threats  of  torture,  death,  and  violation. 

Demetrius. 

Thefe  tedious  narratives  of  frozen  age 
Diftracl  rny  foul,  difpatch  thy  ling'ring  tale  ; 
Say,  did  a  voice  from  heaven  reilrain  the  tyrant  ? 
Did  interpofing  angels  guard  her  from  him  ? 

Cali. 

Juft  in  the  moment  of  impending  fate, 
Another  plund'rer  brought  the  bright  Irene  ; 
Of  equal  beauty,  but  of  fofter  mien, 
Fear  in  her  eye,  fubmiffion  on  her  tongue, 
Her  mournful  charms  attradled  his  regards, 
Difarm'd  his  rage,  and  in  repeated  vifits 
Gain'd  all  his  heart ;  at  length  his  eager  love 
To  her  transferr'd  the  offer  of  a  crown. 

Leontius. 
Nor  found  again  the  bright  temptation  fail  ? 

Cali. 

Trembling  to  grant,  nor  daring  to  refufe. 
While  heav'n  and  Mahomet  divide  her  fears, 
With  coy  careffes  and  with  pleafing  wiles 
She  feeds  his  hopes,  and  fooths  him  to  delay. 
For  her  repofe  is  banifli'd  from  the  night 
And  bufinefs  from  the  day.     In  her  apartments 

He  lives. 

JLcontiut. 
And  there  mult  fall. 

Cali. 
But  yet  th'  attempt 


Is  hazardous. 


Leontius. 
Foibear  to  fpeak  of  hazards; 


What  has  the  wretch  that  has  furviv'd  his  country. 
His  friends,  his  liberty,  to  hazard  ? 
Cali. 

Life. 

Demetrius. 

Th'  ineftimable  privilege  ot  breathing  ! 
Important  hazard  !  What's  that  airy  bubble 
When   weigh'd  with  Greece,  with  virtue,  with 

Afpafia  ? 

A  floating  atom,  duft  that  falls  unheeded 
Into  the  adverfe  fcale,  nor  (liakes  the  balance. 
Cali. 

At  leaft  this  day  be  calm. If  we  fucceed, 

Al'pufia's  thine,  and  all  thy  li!e  is  rapture.— 
See  !   Multapha,  the  tyraiu's  minion,  couies; 
Invert  Leontius  with  his  new  command; 
And  wait  Abdalla's  unfufpedled  vilits: 
Remember  freedom,  glory,  Greece,  and  love. 

[Exeunt  Demetrius  and  LeontiuSi 

SCENE  III. 

CALI,    MUSTAPHA. 

Muflapba. 

By  what  enchantment  does  this  lovely  Greek 
Hold  in  her  chains  the  captivated  fultan  ? 
He  tires  his  fav'rites  with  Irene's  praile, 
And  feeks  the  (hades  to  mufe  upon  Irene  ; 
Irene  (teals  unheeded  from  his  tongue, 
And  mingles  unperceiv'il  with  ev'ry  thought. 

Cali. 

Why  fliould  the  fultan  flmn  the  joys  of  beauty, 
Or  arm  his  breaft  againlt  the  force  of  love  ? 
Love,  that  with  fweet  viciflitude  relieves 
The  warrior's  labours,  and  the  monarch's  cares. 
But  will  (he  yet  receive  the  faith  of  Mecca} 

Muflapha. 

Thofe  pow'rful  tyrants  of  the  female  breaft, 
Fear  and  ambition,  urge  her  to  compliance  ; 
Drefs'd  in  each  charm  of  gay  magnificence, 
Alluring  grandeur  courts  her  to  his  arms, 
Religion  calls  her  from  the  wilh'd  embrace, 
Paints  future  joys,  and  points  to  diitant  glories. 

Cali. 

Soon  will  th'  unequal  conteft  be  decided. 
Proipeds  obfcur'd  by  diftance  faintly  ftrike ; 
Each  pleafure  brightens  at  its  near  approach, 
And  every  danger  (hocks  with  double  horror. 

Mujfapba. 

How  (hall  I  fcorn  the  beautiful  apoftate  ! 
How  will  the  bright  Afpafia  (liine  above  her  I 

Cali. 

Should  (lie,  for  profelytes  are  always  zealous, 
With  pioas  warmth  receive  our  prophet's  law— 

Mi/Jiapha. 

Heav'n  will  contemn  the  mercenary  fervour, 
Which  love  of  greatnefs,  not  of  truth,  inflames. 

Cali. 

Ceafe,  ceafe  thy  cenfures,  for  the  fultan  comet 
Alone,  with  am'rous  hafte  to  feek  his  love. 

SCENE  IV. 

MAHOMET,  CALI  BASSA,  MUSTAPHA. 

Cali. 

Hail,  terror  of  the  monarchs  of  the  world, 
Uufhaken  be  thy  throne  as  earth's  firm  bale, 


THE   WORKS    OF  JOHNSON. 


i.ive  till  the  fun  forgets  to  dart  his  beams, 
And  weary  planets  loiter  in  their  courfes. 

Mahomet. 

But,  Cali,  let  Irene  fliare  thy  prayers;     . 
For  what  is  Jength  of  days  without  Irene  ? 
I  come  from  empty  noife,  and  taftelefs  pomp, 
From  crowds  that  hide  a  monarch  from  himfelf, 
To  prove  the  fweets  of  privacy  and  friendfhip, 
And  dwell  upon  the  beauties  of  Irene. 
Calf. 

0  may  her  beauties  lafi  unchang'd  by  time, 
As  thole  that  blefs  the  man  (ions  of  the  good. 

Mahomet. 

Each  realm  where  beauty  turns  the  graceful  (hape 
Swells  the  fair  breaft  or  animates  the  glance, 
Adorns  my  palace  with  its  brigheft  virgins; 
Yet  unacquainted  with  thefe  loft  emotions 

1  walk'd  luperior,  through  the  blaze  of  charms, 
Prais'd  «-ithout  rapture,  left  without  regret. 
"Why  rov.i  I  naw,  when  abfent  irom-rtiy  fair, 
From  falitude  to  crowds,  from  crowds  to  folitude, 
Still  reftlefs,  till  I  clafp  the  lovely  maid, 

And  eafe  my  loaded  foul  upon  her  bofom  ? 

Muftapha'. 

Forgive,  great  fultan,  that  intrufive  duty 
Inquires  the  final  doom  of  Menodorus, 
The  Grecian  counfellor. 

JMabomet. 

Go  fee  him  die; 

His  martial  rhet'ric  taught  the  Greeks  refiftance ; 
Had  they  prevail'd,  I  ne'er  had  known  Irene. 

[Exit  Muftapha. 

SCENE  V. 

MAHOMET,  CALI. 

Malomct. 

Remote  from  tumult,  in  th'  adjoining  palace, 
Thy  care  ihall  guard  this  treafure  of  my  foul ; 
There  let  Afpafia,  fince  my  fair  entreats  it, 
"With  converfe  chafe  the  melancholy  moments. 
Sure,  chill' d  with  fixty  winter  camps,  thy  blocd 
At  Oght  of  female  charms  will  glow  no  more. 

Cali. 

Thefe  years,  unconquer'd  Mahomet,  demand 
Defires  more  pure,  and  other  cares  than  love. 
Long  have  I  -vvifh'd,  before  our  prophet's  tomb, 
To  pour  my  prayers  for  thy  fucceftiul  reign, 
To  quit  the  tumults  of-the  noify  camp, 
And  fink  into  the  iilent  grave  iu  peace. 

IVlahotKet. 

What !  think  of  peace  while  haughty  Scanderbeg, 
Elafe  with  conqueil,  in  his  native  mountains, 
Prowls  e'er  the  wealthy  fpoiis  of  bleeding  Turkey? 
While  fair  Hungaria's  unexhaufted  valleys 
Pour  forth  their  legions,  and  the  roaring  Danube 
Rolls  half  his  floods  unheard  through  fhouting 

camps  ? 
Nor  could'lt  thou  more  fupport  a  life  of  fioth 

'I  han  Amurath 

Cali. 
Still  full  of  Amurath  ! 

Mahomet. 

Than  Amurath,  accuftom'd  to  command, 
Could  bear  his  fon  upon  the  Turkilh  tin  one. 

Cali. 
This  pilgrimage  our  lawgiver  ordain'd— 


Maltmet. 

For  thofe  who  could  not  pleafe  by  nobler  fervice.— • 
Our  warlike  prophet  loves  an  adlive  faith, 
The  holy  flame  of  enter puifing  virtue, 
Mocks  the  dull  vows  of  folitude  and  pennancc, 
And  fcorns  the  lazy  hermit's  cheap  devotion ; 
Shine  thou  diflinguifli'd  by  fuperior  merit, 
With  wonted  zeal  purfue  the  talk  of  war, 
Till  every  nation  reverence  the  Koran, 
And  ev'ry  fuppliant  lift  his  eyes  to  Mecca. 

Cali. 

This  regal  confidence,  this  pious  ardour, 
Let  prudence  moderate,  though  not  fupprefs. 
Is  not  each  realm  that  fmiles  with  kinder  funs, 
Or  boafts  a  happier  foil,  already  thine  ? 
Extended  empire,  like  expanded  gold, 
Exchanges  folid  ftrcngth  for  feeble  fplendour. 

Malomtt. 

Preach  thy  dull  politics  to  vulgar  kings,         [nefs, 
Theu  know'ft  not  yet  thy  matter's  future  great- 
His  vafi  defigns,  his  plans  of  boundlefs  pow'r. 
When  ev'ry  ftorm  in  my  domain  Ihall  roar, 
When  ev'ry  wave  ihall  beat  a  Turkilh  fliore, 
Then,  Cali,  ihall  the  toils  of  battle  ceafe, 
Then  dream  of  prayer, and  pilgrimage,  aad  peace. 

[Extunt, 

ACT  II.— SCENE  I. 

ASPASIA,  IRENE. 

Irene. 

As  PA  SIA,  yet  purfue  the  facred  theme ; 
Exhauft  the  ftores  of  pious  eloquence, 
And  teach  me  to  repel  die  fultan's  paffion. 
Still  at  Afpafia^  voice  a  fudden  rapture 
Exalts  my  foul,  and  fortifies  my  heart. 
The  glitt'ring  vanities  of  empty  greatnefs, 
The  hopes  and  fears,  the  joys  and  pains  of  life, 
Diffolve  in  air,  and  vanifli  into  nothing. 

Affa/ia. 

Let  nobler  hopes  and  julter  fears  fucceed, 
And  bar  the  paffes  of  Irene's  mind 
Againft  returning  guilt. 

Irene. 

When  thou  art  abfent 
Death  rifes  to  my  view,  with  all  his  terrors ; 
Then  vifions  horrid  as  a  murd'rer's  dreams 
Chill  my  refolves,  and  blafl  my  blooming  virtue: 
Stern  torture  fhakes  his  bloody  fcourge  before  me, 
r\nd  anguiib  gnaflies  on  the  fatal  wheel. 

Afpafia. 

ince  fear  predominates  in  every  thought, 
And  fways  thy  breafl  with  abfolute  dominion, 
Think  on  th'  infulting  fcorn,  the  confcious  pangs, 
The  future  miferies  that  wait  theapoftate; 
So  jhall  timidity  aflift  thy  rtafon, 
And  wifdom  into  lolly  turn  thy  frailty. 

Irene. 
Will  not  that  pow'r  that  form'd  the  heart  of  w»j 

man, 

And  wove  the  feeble  texture  of  her  nerves,  - 
'orgive  thofe  fears  that  fhake  the  tender  frame  ? 

Afpafia. 

The  weaknefs  we  lament,  ourfelves  create; 
nftrudcd  from  our  infant  years  to  court 
With  counterfeited  fears  the  aid  of  man, 
We  learn  to  flmdder  at  the  ruftling  breezej 


I  R  E  N  2. 


16 1 


Start  at  the  light,  and  tremble  in  the  dark; 
Till  affectation,  rip'ning  to  belief, 
And  folly,  frighted  at  her  own  chimeras, 
Habitual  cowardice  ufurps  the  foul. 

Irene. 

Not  all  like  thee  can  brave  the  fhocks  of  fate, 
Thy  foul  by  nature  great,  enlarg'd  by  knowledge, 
Soars  unencumber'd  with  our  idle  cares, 
And  all  Afpafia,  but  her  beauty,  's  man. 

Afpafia. 

Each  generous  fentiment  is  thine,  Demetrius, 
Whofe  foul,  perhaps,  yet  mindful  of  Afpafia, 
Now  hovers  o'er  this  melancholy  fhade, 
Well  pleas'd  to  find  thy  precepts  not  forgotten. 
O  !  could  the  grave  reftore-the  pious  hero, 
Soon  would  his  art  or  valour  fet  us  free, 
And  bear  us  far  from  fervitude  and  crime*. 

Irene. 
He  yet  may  live. 


Alas  !  dclufive  dream  ? 

Too  well  I  know  him,  his  immod'rate  courage, 
Th'  impetuous  fallies  of  exceffive  virtue, 
Too  ftrong  for  love,  have  hurried  him  on  death. 

SCENE  II. 

ASFA3IA,  IRENE,  CALl,  ABDALLA. 

Call  if  Abdalla,  as  they  advance, 
Behold  our  future  fultanefs,  Abdalla  ; 
Let  artful  flatt'ry  now,  to  lull  fufpicion, 
Glide  through  Irene  to  the  fultan's  ear. 
"Wouldft  thou  fubdue  th'  obdurate  cannibal 
To  tender  frie,ndfliip,  praife  him  to  his  miftrefs. 

To  Irene. 
Well  may  thofe  eyes  that  view  thefe   heavenly 

charms 

Reject:  the  daughters  of  contending  kings; 
For  what  are  pompous  titles,  proud  alliance, 
Empire  or  wealth,  to  excellence  like  thine  ?          » 

Abdalla. 

Receive  th'  impatient  fultan  to  thy  armsj 
And  may  a  long  pofterity  of  monarchs, 
The  pride  and  terror  of  fucceeding  days, 
Rife  from  the  happy  bed  ;  and  future  queens 
Diffufe  Irene's  beauty  through  the  world. 

Irene. 

Can  Mahomet's  imperial  hand  defcend 
To  clafp  a  Have  ?  or,  can  a  foul  like  mine, 
Dnus'd  to  power,  and  form'd  for  humbler  fcenes, 
Support  the  fplendid  miferies  of  greatnefs  ? 

Call. 

No  regal  pageant  deck'd  with  cafual  honours, 
•Scorn'd  by  his  fiibjects,  trampled  by  his  foes  ; 
No  feeble  tyrant  of  a  petty  ftate 
Courts  thee  to  {hake  on  a  dependent  throne  ; 
Born  to  command,  as  thou  to  charm  mankind, 
The  fultan  from  himfelf  derives  his  greatnefs. 
Obferve,  bright  maid,  as  his  refiftlefs  voice 
Drives  on  the  tempeft  of  deftructive  war, 
How  nation  after  nation  falls  before  him. 

Abdalla. 

At  his  dread  name  the  diilant  mountains  fhpke 
Their  cloudy  fummits,  and  the  fons  of  ficrcenefs, 
That  range  unciviliz'd  from  rock  to  rock, 
Diftrnft  th'  eternal  fortreffes  of  nature,     ' 
And  wiih  their  gloomy  caverns  more  obfeure. 


Forbear  this  lavilh  pomp  of  dreadful  praife ; 
The  horrid  images  of  war  and  Daughter 
Renew  our  forrows,  and  awake  our  fears. 

Abdalla. 

Cali,  methinks  yon  waving  trees  afford 
A  doubtful  glimpfe  of  our  approaching  friends; 
Juft  as  I  mark'd  them,  they  forfook  the  ftore, 
And  turn'd  their  hafty  fteps  towards  the  garden. 

Call. 

Conduct  thefe  queens,  Abdalla,  to  the  palace : 
Such  heav'nly  beauty  form'd  for  adoration, 
The  pride  of  monarchs,  the  reward  of  conquefc 
Such  beauty  muft  not  fhine  to  vulgar  eyes. 

SCENE  III. 

Call  folus. 

How  heav'n,  £  fcorn  of  human  arrogance, 
Commits  to  trivial  chance  the  fate  of  nations ! 
While  with  inceffant  thought  laborious  man 
Extends  his  mighty  fchemes  of  wealth  and  pow'r. 
And  tow'rs  and  triumphs  in  ideal  greatnefs ; 
Some  accidental  guft  of  oppofition 
Blafts  all  the1  beauties  of  his  new  creation, 
O'erturns  the  fabric  of  prefumptuous  reafon, 
And  whelms  the  fwelling  architect  beneath,  it. 
Had  not  the  breeze  untwin'd  the  meeting  boughs, 
And  through  the  parted  fhade  difclos'd  the  Greek* 
Th*  important  hour  had  pafs'd  unheeded  by, 
In  all  the  fweet  oblivion  of  delight, 
In  all  the  fopperies  of  meeting  lovers ; 
In  fighs  and  tears,  in  tranfports  and  embraces, 
In  foft  complaints,  and  idle  protections. 

SCENE  IV. 

CALI,  DEJJETRIUS,  LEONTIU«. 
Call. 

Could  omens  fright  the  relblute  and  wife, 
Well  might  we  fear  impending  difappointnientj. 

Leontlus. 

Your  artful  fuit,  your  monarch's  fierce  denial, 
The  cruel  doom, of  haplefs  Menodorus.— — 

Demetrius. 

And  your  new  charge,  that  dear,  that  heav'nly 
maid.— 

Ltontius. 
All  this  we  know  already  from  Abdalla. 

Demetrius. 

Such  flight  defeats  but  animate  the  brave 
To  flronger  efforts  and  maturer  counfels. 

Cali. 

My  doom  confirm'd  eftablifhes  my  purpofe : 
Calmly  he  heard,  till  Amurath's  refumptiom 
Rofe  to  his  thought  and  fet  his  foul  on  fire  : 
When  from  his  lips  the  fatal  name  burft  out, 
A  fadden  paufe  th'  imperfect  fenfe  fufpended, 
Like  the  dread  ftillnefs  of  condeniing  ftorms. 

Demetrius. 

The  loudeft  cries  of  nature  urge  us  forward  ; 
Defpotie  rage  purfues  the  life  of  Cali ; 
His  groaning  country  claims  Leontius'  aid; 
And  yet  another  voice,  forgive  me,  Greece, 
The  pow'rful  voice  of  love  inflames  Demetriu^ 
Each  ling'ring  hour  alarms  me  for  Afpafia. 

Cali. 

What  paffions  reign  among  thy  crew,  Leontius? 
Docs  cLecrltfs  diffidence  opprefs  their  hearts  \ 


162 


THE   WORKS 


Or  fprightly  hope  exalt  their  kindling  fpirits  ? 
Do  they  with  pain  reprefs  the  ftruggliug  fiiout, 
And  liften  eager  to  the  rifing  wind? 

Leontius. 

All  there  is  hope,  and  gaiety,  and  courage, 
No  cloudy  doubts,  or  languifliiug  delays; 
Ere  I  could  range  them  on  the  crowded  deck, 
At  once  a  hundred  voices  thunder'd  round  me, 
And  every  voice  was  liberty  and  Greece. 

Demetriut. 

Swift,  let  us  rufh  upon  the  carelefs  tyrant, 
Nor  give  him  leifure  for  another  crime. 

Leontius. 

Then  let  us  now  refolve,  nor  idly  wafte 
Another  hour  in  dull  deliberation. 

Call. 

But  fee,  where  deftin'd  to  protract  our  counfels, 
Comes  Muftapha.  —  Your  Turkifh  robes  conceal 

you, 

Retire  with  fpeed,  while  I  prepare  to  meet  him 
With  artificial  fmiles,  and  fceming  friendihip. 

SCENE  V. 
CALI  and  MUSTAPHA. 

Call. 

I  fee  the  gloom  that  low'rs  upon  thy  brow, 
Thefe  days  of  love  and  pleafurtj  charm  not  thee  ; 
Too  flow  thefe  gentle  conftellations  roll, 
Thou  long'ft  for  ftars  that  frown  on  human  kind, 
And  fcatter  difcord  from  their  baleful  beams. 

Mujiapba. 

How  bleft  art  thou,  ftill  jocund  and  ferene, 
Beneath  the  load  of  bufmefs,  and  of  years. 

Call. 

Sure  by  fome  wond'rous  fympathy  of  fouls, 
My  heart  ftill  beats  refponfive  to  the  fultan's  ; 
I  (hare,  by  fecret  inftinct,  all  his  joys, 
And  feel  no  forrow  while  my  fov'reign  fmiles. 

Mujiapba. 

The  fultan  comes,  impatient  for  his  love  ; 
Conduct  her  hither,  let  no  rude  intrufion 
Moleft  thefe  private  walks,  or  care  invade 
Thefe  hours  affign'd  to  pleafure  and  Irene. 

SCENE  VI. 

MAHOMET,  MUSTAPHA. 

Mahomet. 

Now,  Muftapha,  purfue  thy  tale  of  horror. 
Has  trcafon's  dire  infection  reach'd  my  palace  ? 
Can  Cali  dare  the  ftrokc  of  heav'nly  juflice, 
In  the  dark  precincts  of  the  gaping  grave, 
And  load  with  perjuries  his  parting  Ibul  ? 
Was  it  for  this,  that  fick'ning  in  Epiius, 
My  father  call'd  me  to  his  couch  of  death, 
Join'd  Cali's  hand  to  mine,  and  fault'ring  cry'd, 
Reftrain  the  fervour  of  impetuous  youth 
With  venerable  Cali's  faithful  counfels  ? 
Are  thefe  the  counfels  ?  This  the  faith  of  Cali  ? 
Were  all  our  favours  lavifh'd  on  a  villain  ? 
Confeft  ?  - 


Confeft  by  dying  Mencdorus. 
In  his  laft  agonies  the  gafping  coward, 
Amidft  the  tortures  of  the  burning  fteel, 
Still  fond  of  life,  groan'  d  out  the  dreadful  fecret, 
Held  forih  this  fatal  faoll,  then  funk  to  nothing. 


OF   JOHNSON. 

Mahomet,  examining  tic  paper. 
His  correfpondence  with  our,  foes  of  Greece  } 
His  hand  !  His  feal  !  The  fecrets  of  my  foul 
Conceal'd  from  all  but  him  !  All  !  all  confpire 
To  banilh  doubt,  and  brand  him  for  a  villain. 
Our  fchemes  for  ever  crofs'd,  our  mines  difcover'd, 
Betray'd  fome  traitor  lurking  near  my  bofom. 
Oft  have  I  rag'd,  when  their  wide-wafting  cannon 
Lay  pointed  at  our  batt'ries  yet  unform'd, 
And  broke  the  meditated  lines  of  war. 
Detefted  Cali  too,  with  artful  wonder, 
Would  fhake  his  wily  head,  and  clofely  whifpcr, 
Beware  of  Muftapha,  beware  of  treafon. 

Muftapha. 

The  faith  of  Muftapha  difdains  fufpicion  ; 
But  yet,  great  emperor,  beware  of  treafon. 
Th'  infidious  Buffa  fir'd  by  difappointment—  — 

Mahomet. 

Shall  feel  the  vengeance  of  an  injur'd  king. 
Go,  feize  him,  load  him  with  reproachful  chains; 
Before  th'  affembled  troops  proclaim  his  crimes  ; 
Then  leave  him  ftretch'd  upon  the  ling'ring  rack, 
Amidft  the  camp  to  howl  his  life  away. 

Mujiapba. 

Should  we  before  the  troops  proclaim  his  crimes, 
I  dread  his  arts  of  feeming  innocence,      ' 
His  bland  addrefs,  and  forcery  of  tongue  ; 
And  fhould  he  fall  unheard,  by  fudden  juftice, 
Th'  adoring  foldiers  would  revenge  their  idoL 

Mabtmet. 

Cali,  this  day  with  hypocritic  zeal, 
Implor'd  my  leave  to  vifit  Mecca's  temple  ; 
Struck  with  the  wonder  of  a  ftatefman  goodnefs, 
I  rais'd  his  thoughts  to  more  fublime  devotion. 
Now  let  him  go,  purfu'd  by  filent  wrath, 
Meet  unexpected  daggers  in  his  way, 
And  in  fome  diiiant  land  obfcurely  die. 

Mujiapba. 

There  will  his  boundlels  wealth,  the  fpoil  of  Afia, 
Heap'd  by  your  father's  ill-plac'd  bounties  on  him, 
Difperfe  rebellion  through  the  Eaftern  world; 
Bribe  to  his  caufe  and  lift  beneath  his  banners 
Arabia's  roving  troops,  the  fons  of  fwiftnefe, 
And  arm  the  Periian  heretic  againft  thee  ; 
There  fhall  he  wafte  thy  frontiers,  check  thy  con- 
quefts,  [geance. 

And  though  at  length  fubdued,  elude  thy  ven- 

Mabomet. 

Elude  my  vengeance  !  no—  My  troops  fhall  range 
Th'  eternal  fnows  that  freeze  beyond  Meotis, 
And  Afric's  torrid  fands,  in  fearch  of  Cali. 
Should  the  fierce  North  upon  his  frozen  wings 
Bear  him  aloft  above  the  wond'ring  clouds, 
And  feat  him  in  the  Pleiads'  golden  chariots, 
Thence  fhould  my  fury  drag  him  down  to  tor 

tures  ; 
Wherever  guilt  can  fly,  revenge  can  follow. 


. 

Wilt  thou  difmifs  the  favage  from  the  toils, 
Only  to  hunt  him  round  the  ravag'd  world  ? 

Mabomst. 

Sufpend  his  fentence  —  Empire  and  Irene 
Claim  my  divided  foul.    This  wretch,  unworthy 
To  mix  with  nobler  cares,  I'll  throw  afide 
For  idle  hours,  and  crufh  him  at  my  leifure. 

Mujiapba. 

Let  not  th'  unbounded  greatnefs  of  his  mind 
Betray  my  king  to  negligence  of  danger. 


IRENE. 


Perhaps  the  clouds  of  dark  confpiracy 

Now  roll  i'ull  fraught  with  thunder  o'er  your  head. 

Twice  fince  the  morning  rofe  1  faw  the  Baifa, 

Like  a  fell  adder  fwelling  in  a  brake, 

Beneath  the  covert  of  this  verdant  arch 

In  private  conference ;  befide  him  flood 

Two  men  unknown,  the  partners  of  his  bofom ; 

1  mark'd  them  well,  and  trac'd  in  either  face 

The  gloomy  refolution,  horrid  greatijfifs, 

And  ilern  compofure  of  defpairing  heroes  ; 

And,  to  confirm  my  thought,  at  fight  of  me, 

As  blafted  by  my  prcfence,  they  withdrew 

With  all  the  fpeed  of  terror  and  of  guilt. 

Mahomit. 

The  ftrong  emotions  of  my  troubled  foul 
Allow  no  paufe  for  art  or  for  contrivance ; 
And  dark  perplexity  diftraels  my  counfels. 
Do  thou  refolve  :  For  fee  Irene  comes! 
At  her  approach  each  ruder  gufl  of  thought 
Sinks  like  the  fighing  of  a  tempcft  fpent, 
And  gales  of  fofter  pafllon  fan  my  bofom. 

[Cali  enters  -with  Irene,  and  exit  with  Muftapha 


SCENE  VII. 

MAHOMET,  IRENE. 

Mabomet. 

Wilt  thou  defcend,  fair  daughter  of  perfection, 
To  hear  my  vows,  and  give  mankind  a  queen  ? 
Ah  !  ceafe,  Irene,  ceafe  thofe  flowing  forrows, 
That  melt  a  heart  impregnable  till  now, 
And  turn  thy  thoughts  henceforth  to  love  and 

empire. 

How  will  the  matchlefs  beauties  of  Irene, 
Thus  bright  in  tears,  thus  amiable  in  ruin, 
With  all  the  graceful  pride  of  greatnefsheighten'd, 
Amidll  the  blaze  of  jewels  and  of  gold, 
Adorn  a  throne,  and  dignify  dominion. 

Irene. 

Why  all  this  glare  of  fplendid  eloquence, 
To  paint  the  pageantries  of  guilty  ftatc  ? 
Muft  I  for  thefe  renounce  the  hope  of  heav'n, 
Immortal  crowns  and  ftillnefs  of  enjoyment  ? 

Mahomet. 

Vain  raptures  all — For  your  inferior  natures 
Form'd  to  delight,  and  happy  by  delighting, 
Heav'n  has  referv'd  no  future  Paradife, 
But  bids  you  rove  the  paths  of  blifs,  fecure 
Of  total  death  and  carelefs  of  hereafter ; 
While  heav'ns  high  minifter,  whofe  awful  volume 
Records  each  a<ft,  each  thought  of  fovereign  man, 
Surveys  your  plays  with  inattentive  glance, 
And  leaves  the  lovely  trifler  unregarded. 

Irene. 

Why  then  has  nature's  vain  munificence 
Profufely  pour'd  her  bounties  upon  woman  ? 
Whence  then  thofe  charms  thy  tongue  has  deign'd 

to  flatter, 

That  air  refiftlefs  and  enchanting  blufti, 
Unlefs  the  beauteous  fabric  was  defign'd 
A  habitation  for  a  fairer  foul  ?  f 

Mahomet. 

Too  high,  bright  maid,  thou  rat' ft  exterior  grace: 
Not  always  do  the  fairell  flow'rs  diffofe 
The  richefl  odours,  nor  the  fpeekled  fhells 
Conceal  the  gem;  let  female  arrogance 


Obferve  the  feather' J  wand'rers  of  the  flcy; 
With  purple  varied  and  bedropp'd  with  gold, 
They  prune  the  wing,  and  fpread  the  glofly  plumes, 
Ordain'd,  like  you,  to  flutter  and  to  fhine, 
And  cheer  the  weary  paffengcr  with  mufic. 

Irene. 

Mean  as  we  are,  this  tyrant  of  the  world 
Implores  our  fmiles,  and  trembles  at  our  feet : 
Whence  flow  the  hopes  and  fears,  defpair  and  rap 
ture, 
Whence  all  the  blifs  and  agonies  of  love  ? 

Mahomet. 

Why,  when  the  balm  of  fleep  defcends  on  man, 
Do  gay  delations,  wand'ring  o'er  the  brain, 
Sooth  the  delighted  foul  with  empty  blifs  ? 
To  want  give  affluence  ?  and  to  flav'ry  freedom  ? 
Such  are  love's  joys,  the  lenitives  of  life, 
A  faucy'd  treafure,  and  a  waking  dream. 

Irene. 

Then  let  me  once,  in  honour  of  our  fex, 
Affiime  the  boaftful  arrogance  of  man. 
Th'  attractive  foftnefs,  and  th'  endearing  fmile, 
And  pow'rful  glance,  'tis  granted,  are  our  own  ; 
Nor  has  impartial  nature's  frugal  hand 
Exhaufled  all  her  nobler  gifts  on  you ; 
Do  not  we  fhare  the  comprehenfivc  thought, 
Th'  enlivening  wit,  the  penetrating  reafon  ? 
Beats  not  the  female  breaft  with  gen'rous  paffions, 
The  thirft  of  empire,  and  the  love  of  glory  I 

Mahomet. 

Illuftrious  maid,  new  wonders  fix  me  thine, 
Thy  foul  completes  the  triumphs  of  thy  face. 
I  thought,  forgive  my  fair,  the  noblcft  aim, 
The  flrongeft  effort  of  a  female  foul,  t 

Was  but  to  choofe  the  graces  of  the  day ; 
To  tune  the  tongue,  to  teach  the  eyes  to  roll, 
Difpofe  the  colours  of  the  flowing  robe, 
And  add  new  rofes  to  the  faded  cheek. 
Will  it  not  charm  a  mind  like  thine  exalted, 
To  fhine  the  goddefs  of  applauding  nations, 
To  fcatter  happinefs  and  plenty  round  thee, 
To  bid  the  proflrate  captive  rife  and  live, 
To  fee  new  cities  tow'r  at  thy  command, 
And  blafted  kingdoms  flourifh  at  thy  fmile  ? 

Irene. 

Charm'd  with  the  thought  of  bleffing  human  kind, 
Too  calm  I  liften  to  the  flatt'ring  founds. 

Mahomet. 

O  feize  the  power  to  blifs— Irene's  nod 
Shall  break  the  fetters  of  the  groaning  Chriftian  ; 
Greece,  in  her  lovely  patronefs  fecure, 
Shall  mourn  no  more  her  plunder'd  palaces. 

Irene. 
Forbear — O  do  not  urge  me  to  my  ruin ! 

Mahomet. 

To  flate  and  pow'r  I  court  thee,  not  to  ruin : 
Smile  on  my  wifhes,  and  command  the  globe. 
Security  Ihall  fpread  her  fhield  before  thee, 
And  love  enfold  thee  with  his  downy  wings. 
If  grcatnefs pleafe  thee,  mount  th'  imperial  feat; 
If  pleafare  charm  thee,  vievv  this  foft  retreat; 
Here  ev'ry  warbler  of  the  ficy  fhall  fmg ; 
Here  ev'ry  fragrance  breathe  of  ev'ry  fpring: 
To  deck  thefe  bow'rs  each  region  Ihall  combine, 
And  ev'n  our  prophet's  gardens  envy  thine : 
Empire  and  love  (hall  fh  ;ro  the  b:ifsfiil  day, 
And  varied  life  Heal  un^rcci'v'd  away. 

4          !  [Exeunt. 


64 


ACT  m.-r- 


CALi,  ABDALLA. 


I. 


Call  enters  with   a  dif:ontented  air  j  to  him  enter  t  Ab- 
dalla. 

Call. 

Is  this  the  fierce  confpirator  Abdalla? 

Is  this  the  reillefs  diligence  of  treafon? 

"Where  haft  thou  linger'd  while  th'  encuraber'd 

hours 

Fly  lab'ring  with  the  fate  of  future  nations, 
And  hungry  flaughter  fcents  imperial  blood  ? 

Abdalla. 
Important  cares  detain'd  me  from  your  counfels. 

Call. 

Some  petty  pafiipn  !  fome  domcftic  trifle  ; 
Some  vain  amufement  of  a  vacant  foul  ! 
A  weeping  wife  perhaps,  or  dying  friend, 
Hung  on  your  neck,  and  hinder'd  your  departure. 
Is  this  a  time  for  foftnefs  or  for  forrow  ? 
Unprofitable,  peaceful,  female  virtues  ! 
"When  eager  vengeance  fliows  a  naked  foe, 
And  kind  ambition  points  the  way  to  greatnefs, 

Abdalla. 

Muft  then  ambition's  votaries  infringe 
The  laws  of  kindnefs,  break  the  bonds  of  nature  ? 
And  quit  the  names  of  brother,  friend,  and  father  ? 

Call, 

This  foyereign  paflion,  fcornful  of  reftraint, 
Ev'n  from  the  birth  affects  fupreme  command, 
Swells  in  the  breaft,  and  with  refifllefs  force 
O'erbears  each  gentler  motion  of  the  mind. 
As  when  a  deluge  overfpreads  the  plains, 
The  wand'ring  rivulet,  and  Giver  lake, 
!Mix  undiftinguifli'd  with  the  gen'ral  roar. 

Abdalla. 

Yet  can  ambition  in  Abdalla's  breaft 
Claim  but  the  fecond  place  :  there  mighty  love 
Has  fix'd  his  hopes,  inquietudes,  and  fears, 
His  glowing  wiflies,  and  his  jealous  pangs. 

Call. 

Love  is  indeed  the  privilege  of  youth; 
Yet,  on  a  day  like  this,  when  expectation 
Pants  for  the  dread  event  —  But  let  us  reafon— 

Abdalla. 

Haft  thou  grown  old  amidft  the  crowd  of  courts, 
And  turn'd  th'  inftructive  page  of  human  life, 
To  cant,  at  laft,  of  reafon  to  a  lover  ? 
Such  ill-tim'd  gravity,  fuch  ferious  folly, 
Might  well  befit  the  folitary  ftudent, 
Th'  unpractis'd  dervife,  or  feqUefter'd  faquir. 
Know'ft  thou  not  yet,  when  love  invades  the  foul, 
That  all  her  faculties  receive  his  chains  ? 
That  reafon  gives  her  fceptre  to  his  hand, 
Or  only  ftruggles  to  be  more  enflav'd  ! 
Afpafia,  who  can  look  upon  thy  beauties  ? 
Who  hear  thee  fpeak,  and  not  abandon  reafon  ? 
Reafon  !  the  hoary  dotard's  dull  directrefs, 
That  lofes  all  becaufe  flic  hazards  nothing  : 
Reafon  !  the  tim'rous  pilot,  that  to  faifn 
The  rocks  of  life,  for  ever  flics  the  port. 

Call. 

But  why  this  fudden  warmth  ? 
Abdalla. 

Becaufe  I  love  : 
Becaufe  my  flighted  paffioa  burn*  in  vain! 


Why  roars  the  lionefs  dulrefs'd  by  hunger  ? 
Why  foam  the  fwelling  waves  when  tcmpefts  rife? 
»Vhy  makes  the  ground,  when  fubterraneous  fire* 
Fierce  through  the  burfling  caverns  rend  their 


way  i 


Call. 


Not  till  this  day  thou  faw'ft  this  fatal  fair ; 
Did  ever  paflinn  make  fo  fwift  a  progrefs  ? 
Once  more  reflect,  fupprefs  this  infant  lolly. 

Ab  'alia. 

Grofs  fires,  enkindled  by  a  mortal  hand, 
Spread  by  degrees,  a  d  -read  th'  opprefling  ftrcarm; 
The  fubtlet  flames  emitted  from  the  fky, 
Flaih  out  at  once,  with  ftrength  above  refiftance. 

Call. 

How  did  Afpafia  welcome  your  addrefs? 
Did  you  proclaim  this  unexpected  conqueft  ? 
Or  pay  with  fpeaking  eyes  a  lover's  homage  ? 

Abdalla. 

Confounded,  aw'd,  and  loft  in  admiratfon, 
1  gaz'd,  1  trembled ;  but  I  could  not  fpeak: 
When  ev'n  as  love  was  breaking  off  from  wonder, 
And  tender  accents  quiver'd  on  my  lips, 
She  mark'd  my  fparkl ing  eyes,  and  heaving  breaft. 
And  finiling,  confcious  of  her  charms,  withdrew. 
Enter  Demetrius  and  Leontius. 

Cali. 

Now  be  fome  moments  mafter  of  thyfelf, 
Nor  let  Demetrius  know  thee  for  a  rival. 
Hence !  or  be  calm —  To  difagree  is  ruin. 

SCENE  II. 

CALI,  DEMETRIUS,  LEONT1CS,  ABDALLA. 

Demetrius. 

When  will  occafion  fmile  upon  our  wifhes, 
And  give  the  tortures  of  fufpence  a  period  ? 
Still  muft  we  linger  in  uncertain  hope  ? 
Still  languifli  in  our  chains,  and  dream  of  freedom, 
Like  thirfly  failors  gazing  on  the  clouds, 
Till  burning  death  fhoots  through  their  wither'A 
limbs  ? 

Call. 

Deliverance  is  at  hand ;  for  Turkey's  tyrant, 
Sunk  in  his  pleafures,  confident  and  gay, 
With  all  the  hero's  dull  fecurity, 
Trufts  to  my  care  his  miftrefs  and  his  life, 
And  laughs  and  wantons  in  the  jaws  of  death. 

'     Leontius. 

So  weak  is  man,  when  deftin'd  to  deftru-ftion, 
The  watchful  flumber,  and  the  crafy  truft. 

Call. 

At  my  command  yon  iron  gates  unfold ; 
At  my  command  the  fentinels  retire ; 
With  all  the  licence  of  authority, 
Through  bowing  flaves,  I  range  the  private  roomi, 
And  of  to-morrow's  action  fix  the  fcene. 

Demetrius. 

To-morrow's  action  !  Can  that  hoary  wifdom 
Borne  down  with  years,  ftill  doat  upon  to-mor 
row  ? 

That  fatal  miftrefs  of  the  young,  the  lazy. 
The  coward  and  the  fool,  condemn'd  to  lofc 
An  ufelefs  life  in  waiting  for  to-morrow, 
To  gaze  with  longing  eves  upon  to-morrow, 
Till  interpofing  death  deftroys  the  profpect  ! 
Strange!  that  this  gen'ral  fraud  from  day  to  daj 
Sould  £11  the  world  with  wretches  undete&ed. 

5 


I  R  £  N  E. 


865 


The  foldier  laboring  through  a  winter's  march, 
Still  fees  to-morrow  dreft  in  robes  of  triumph  ; 
Still  to  the  lover's  long-expecting  arms, 
To-morrow  brings  the  vifionary  bride. 
But  thou,  too  old  to  bear  another  cheat, 
Learn,  that  the  prefent  hour  alone  is  man's. 

Leonllus. 

The. prefent  hour  with  open  arms  invites, 
Seize  the  kind  fair,  and  prefs  her  to  thy  bofom. 

Demetrius. 

Who  knows,  ere  this  important  morrow  rife, 
But  fear  or  mutiny  may  taint  the  Greeks  ? 
Who  knows  if  Mahomet's  awaking  anger 
May  fpare  the  fatal  bow-ftring  till  to-morrow  ? 

Abdalla. 

Had  our  firft  Allan  foes  but  known  this  ardour, 
We  ftill  had  wander'd  on  Tartarian  hills. 
Rouie,  Caii,  fhall  the  fons  of  conquer'd  Greece 
.Lead  us  to  danger,  and  abafh  their  vicftors  ? 
This  night  with  all  her  confcious  ftars  be  witnefs, 
Who  merits  moft  —Demetrius  or  Abdalla. 

Demetriut. 
Who  merits  moft! — I  knew  not  we  were  rivals. 

Cali. 
Young  man,  forbear— The   heat    of    youth,   no 

more- 
Well,— 'tis  decreed — This  night  (hall  fix  our  fate. 
Soon  as  the  veil  of  evening  clouds  the  iky, 
With  cautious  fecrecy,  Leontius  fteei, 
Th'  appointed  veffel  to  yon  ihaded  bay, 
Form'd  by  this  garden  jutting  on  the  deep ; 
There,  with  your  ibldiers  arni'd,  and  fails  expanded, 
Await  our  coming,  equa.iy  prepar'd 
for  fpeedy  flight,  or  obftinatc  defence. 

[Exit  Leont. 

SCENE  III. 

CALI,  ABDALLA,  DEMETRIUI. 

Demetrius. 
New  panfe,  great  Bafla,   from  the  thoughts  of 

blood, 

And  kindly  grant  an  ear  to  gentler  founds. 
If  e'er  thy  youth  has  known  the  pangs  of,  abfence, 
Or  felt  th'  impatience  of  obitru<fted  love, 
Give  me,  before  th'  approaching  hour  of  fate, 
Once  to  behold  the  charms  of  bright  Afpafia, 
And  draw  new  virtue  from  her  heav'nly  tongue. 

Call. 

Let  prudence,  ere  the  fuit  be  farther  urg'd, 
Impartial  weigh  the  pleafure  with  the  danger. 
A  little  longer,  and  flic's  thine  tor  ever. 

Demttrluj, 

Prudence  and  love  confpire  in  this  requeft, 
Left,  unacquainted  with  our  bold  attempt, 
Surprife  o'erwhelm  her,  and  retard  our  flight. 

Cali. 
What  I  can  grant,  you  cannot  aflc  in  Tain— 

Demetrius. 

I  go  to  wait  thy  call ;  this  kind  confent 
Completes  the  gift  of  freedom  and  of  life. 

[Exit.  Dem. 

SCENE  IV. 

CALI,  ABDALLA. 

Abdalla. 

And  this  is  my  reward— to  burn,  to  languifh, 
To  rave  unheeded,  while  the  happy  Greek, 
VOL.  XI. 


The  refufe  of  our  fwords,  the  drofs  of  conquelt, 
Throws  his  fond  arms  about  Afpafia's  tuck, 
Dwells  on  her  lips,  and  fighs  upon  her  bread ; 
Is't  not  enough,  he  lives  by  oui  indulgence, 
But  he  muft  live  to  make  his  matters  wretched  ? 

Call. 

What  claim  hail  thou  to  plead  ? 
dodatla. 

The  claim  of  pow'r, 
Th'  unqueftion'd  claim  of  conquerors,  and  kings  I 

Gali. 
Yet  in  the  ufe  of  pow'r  remember  jufticc. 

Abdalla. 

Can  then  th'  aflaflin  lift  his  treach'rous  hand 
Againft  his  king,  and  cry,  remember  jullice. 
Jullice  demands  the  foru-it  iife  of  Caii ; 

Juitice  demands  that  I  reveal  your  crimes ; 
uftice  demands— But  fee  th'  approaching  fultan. 
Oppofe  my  wifhes,  and — Remember  juftice. 

Caii 
Diforder  fits  upon  thy  face—retire. 

[Exit  Abdaila,  Enter  Mahomet, 

SCENE  V. 

CALI,  MAHOMET. 
Call. 

Long  be  the  fultan  blefs'd  with  happy  love ; 
My  zeal  marks  gladnefs  dawning  on  thy  cheek, 
With  raptures  fuch  as  fire  the  pagan  crowds, 
When  pale,  and  anxious  for  their  years  to  come, 
They  fee  the  fun  furmount  the  dark  eclipfe, 
And  hail  unanimous  their  conqu'ring  god. 

MaLomet. 

My  vows,  'tis  true,  fhe  hears  with  lefs  averfion, 
She  fighs,  fhe  blulhes,  but  (he  ftill  denies. 

Caii. 

With  warmer  courtfliip  prefs  the  yielding  fair, 
Call  to  your  aid  with  boundlefs  promifes 
Each  rebel  wifli,  each  traitor  inclination 
That  raifes  tumults  in  the  female  breaft, 
The  love  of  pow'r,  of  pleafure,  and  of  mow. 

Mahomet. 

Thefe  arts  I  try'd,  and  to  inflame  her  more, 
By  hateful  bufinefs  hurried  from  her  fight, 
I  bade  a  hundred  virgins  wait  around  her, 
Sooth  her  with  all  the  pleafures  of  command, 
Applaud  her  charms,  and  court  her  to  be  great. 

[Exit  Mahomet. 

••» 

SCENE  VI. 

Caii  folus. 

He's  gone — Here  reft,  my  foul,  thy  fainting  wing, 
Here  recollect  thy  diflipated  pow'rs.— — 
Our  diflant  im'refts,  and  our  different  paiHons 
Now  hafte  to  mingle  in  one  common  centre, 
And  fate  lies  crowded  in  a  narrow  fpace. 
Yet  in  that  narrow  fpace  what  dangers  rife  I— 
Far  more  I  dread  Abdalla's  fiery  foily, 
Than  all  the  wifdom  of  the  grave  rlivan. 
Reafon  with  reafon  fights  on  equal  terms, 
The  raging  madman's  unconnected  fchemea 
We  cannot  obviate,  for  we  cannot  guets. 
Deep  in  my  breaft  be  treafured  this  reiblve, 
When  Caii  mounts  th-  ''.;rone,  Abd,r,a  dies, 
Too  fierce,  too  iaithlei»  tor  neglcd  or  trull . 

[Enter  Irene  with  Atttn&n'f, 


$66  THE    WORKS 

SCENE  vn. 

CALI,  IRENE,  ASPASIA,  &.C. 

Call. 

Amidft  the  fplendor  of  encircling  beauty, 
Superior  majefty  proclaims  the  queen, 
And  nature  juftifies  our  monarch's  choice. 

Irene. 

Referve  this  homage  for  fome  other  fair, 
Urge  me  not  on  to  glittering  guilt,  nor  pour 
In  my  weak  ear  th'  intoxicating  founds. 

Call. 

Make  hafte,  bright   maid,   to  rule   the   willing 

world ; 

Aw'd  by  the  rigour  of  the  fultan's  juftice, 
We  court  thy  gentlenefs. 

Afpafta. 

Can  Cali's  voice 
Concur  to  prefs  a  he)p!efs  captive's  ruin  ? 

Cati. 

Long  would  my  zeal  for  Mahomet  and  thee 
Detain  me  here.     But.  nations  call  upon  me, 
And  duty  bids  me  choofe  a  ciiihmt  walk, 
Nor  taint  with  caie  the  privacies  of  love. 

SCENE  VIII. 
IRINE,  A  SPA  si  A,  Attendants. 

Afpajia. 

If  yet  this  fhining  pomp,  thefe  fudden  honours, 
Swell  not  thy  foul  beyond  advice  or  friend/hip, 
Nor  yet  infpire  the  follies  of  a  queen, 
Or  tune  thine  ear  to  foothing  adulation, 
Sufpend  a  while  the  privilege  of  pow'r 
To  hear  the  voice  of  truth  ;  difmifs  thy  train, 
Shake  off  th'  encumbrances  pf  ftate  a  moment, 
And  lay  the  tow'ring  fultanefs  afide, 

[Irene  Jigns  to  her  attendants  to  retire. 
While  I  foretel  thy  fate;  that  office  done, — 
No  more  I  boaft  th'  ambitious  name  of  friend, 
But  fink  among  thy  flaves  without  a  murmur. 

Irene.  • 

Did  regal  diadems  invert  my  brow, 
Yet  mould  my  foul,  ftill  faithful  to  her  choice, 
Efteem  Afpafia's  breaft  the  nobleft  king'dom. 

-      Afpaf:a. 

The  foul  once  tainted  with  fo  foul  a  crime, 
JsTo  more  mall  glow  with  friendfhip's  hallow'd  ar 
dour  : 

Thofe  holy  beings,  whofe  fuperior  care 
Guides  erring  mortals  to  the  paths  of  virtue* 
Affrighted^ at  impiety  like  thine, 
Refign  their  charge  to  bafenefs  and  to  ruin. 

Irene. 

"Upbraid  me  not  with  fancy'd  wickednefs, 
I  am  not  yet  a  queen,  or  an  apoftate. 
But  fhould  I  fin  beyond  the  hope  of  mercy, 
If,  when  religion  prompts  me  to  refufe, 
The  dread  of  inftant  death  reftrains  my  tongue  ? 

Afpafia 

Reflect  that  life  and  death,  affe&ing  founds, 
Are  only  varied  modes  of  endlefs  being; 
Reflect  that  life,  like  ev'ry  other  bleffing, 
Derives  its  values  from  its  ufe  alone ; 
Not  for  itfelf  but  for  a  nobler  end 
Th'  Eternal  gave  it,  and  that  end  is  virtue. 
When  inconfiftent  with  a  greater  good, 
Reafon  commands  to  caft  the  lefsaway ; 


OF   JOHNSON. 

Thus  life,  with  lofs  of  wealth  is  well  preferv'd, 
And  virtue  cheaply  fav'd  with  lofs  of  life. 

Irene.  . 

If  built  on  fettled  thought,  this  conftancy 
Not  idly  flutters  on  a  boaftful  tongue, 
Why,  when  deftruction  rag'd  around  our  walls, 
Why  fled  this  haughty  heroine  from  the  battle  ? 
Why  then  did  not  this  warlike  Amazon          •     • 
Mix  in  the  war,  and  fhine  among  the  heroes? 

Afpafia. 
Heav'n,  when  its   hand  pour'd  foftnefs  on   our 

limbs, 

Unfit  for  toil,  and  polifh'd  into  weaknefs, 
'vl.ade  paflive  fortitude  the  praife  of  wom'an  : 
Our  only  arms  are  innocence  and  meeknefs. 
Not  then  with  raving  cries  I  fill'd  the  city, 
But  while  Demetrius,  deaf  lamented  name  ! 
Pour'd  ftorms  of  fire  upon  our  fierce  invaders, 
fmplor'd  th'  eternal  power  to  fhield  my  country, 
W'ith  filent  forrows,  and  with  calm  devotion. 

Irene. 

Irene  fhiue  the  Queen  of  Turkey,  [jedted, 
Nn  n,  -•:  (ho'jld  Greece  lament  thofe  prayers  re- 
Again  P.;  mid  golden  fplendour  grace  her  cities, 
Again  he-  proilrate  palaces  fhould  rife, 
Again  her  •«  inples  found  with  holy  mufic: 
No  more  fhi"-!d  clanger  fright,  o*  want  diflrefs 
The  fmiling  vidows,  and  protected  orphans. 


Be  virtuous  endspurfued  by  virtuous  means, 
Nor  think  th'  intei  .ion  fan&ifies  the  deed: 
That  maxim  publifh'd  in  an  impious  age, 
Would  loofe  the  wild  enthufiaft  to  deftroy, 
And  fix  the  fierce  ufurper's  bloody  title. 
Then  bigotry  might  fend  her  flaves  to  war, 
And  bid  fuccefs  become  the  teft  of  truth  ; 
Unpitying  maffacre  might  wafte  the  world, 
And  perfccution  boaft  the  call  of  heav'n. 

Irene. 

Shall  1  not  wifh  to  cheer  afflicSled  kings, 
And  plan  the  happinefs  of  mourning  millions  ? 


Dream  not  of  pow'r  thou  never  canft  attain : 
When  focial  laws  firft  harmonis'd  the  world, 
Superior  man  poffefs'd  the  charge  of  rule, 
The  fcale  of  juftice,  and  the  fword  of  pow'r, 
Nor  left  us  aught  but  flattery  and  fhate. 

Irene. 

To  me  my  lover's  fondnefs  will  reflore, 
Whate'er  man's  pride  has  ravifh'd  from  our  fcx. 

Affiajla, 

Whe'n  foft  fecurity  fhall  prompt  the  fultah, 
Freed  from  the  tumults  of  unfettled  conqueft, 
To  fix  his  court  and  regulate  his  pleafures, 
Soon  fhall  the  dire  feraglio's  horrid  gates 
Clofe  like  th'  eternal  bars  of  death  upon  thee, 
Immur'd,  and  buried  in  perpetual  floth, 
That  gloomy  flumber  of  the  ftagnant  foul ; 
There  fhalt  thou  view  from  far  the  quiet  cottage, 
And  figh  for  cheerful  poverty  in  vain : 
There  wear  the  tedious  hours  of  life  away, 
Beneath  each  curfe  of  unrelenting  heav'n, 
Defpair,  and  flav'ry,  folitudc,  and  guilt. 

Irene. 

There  fhall  we  find  the  yet  untafted  blifs 
Of  grandeur  and  tranquillity  combin'd. 

Tranquility  and  guilt,  disjoin'd  by  heav'n. 
6 


IRENE. 


Still  ftretch  in  vain  their  longing  arms  afar ; 
Nor  dare  to  pafs  th'  infuperable  bound. 
Ah  !  let  me  rather  feek  the  convent's  cell ; 
There  when  my  thoughts,  at  interval  of  pray'r, 
Defcend  to  range  thefe  manfions  of  misfortune, 
Oft'  (hall  I  dwell  on  our  difaftrous  friendfkip, 
And  ftied  the  pitying  tear  for  loft  Irene. 

Irene.     • 

Go  languifh  on  in  dull  oMcurity ; 
Thy  dazzled  foul,  %vkh  all  its  boafted  grcatnefs, 
Shrinks  at  th'  o'erpow'ring  gleams  of  regal  Hate, 
Stoops  from  the  blaze  like  a  degenerate  eagle, 
And  flies  for  ihelter  to  the  {hades  of  life. 

Afrafa. 

On  me,  fhould  Providence,  without  a  crime; 
The  weighty  charge  of  royalty  confer  ; 
Call  me  to  civilize  the  Ruffian  wilds, 
Or  bid  foft  fcience  polifh  Britain's  heroes : 
Soon  fhouldft  thou  fee,  how  falfe  thy  weak  re 
proach. 

My  bofom  feels,  enkindled  from  the  fky, 
The  lambent  flames  of  mild  benevolence, 
Untouch'd  by  fierce  ambition's  raging  fires. 

Irene. 

Ambition  is  the  ftamp,  imprefs'd  by  heav'rt 
To  mark  the  nobleft  niinds  ;  with  active  heat 
Inform'd  they  mount  the  precipice  of  pow'r, 
Orafp  at  command,  and  tow'r  in  queft  of  empire ; 
"While  vulgar  fouls  compaffionate  their  cares, 
Gaze  at  their  height  and  tremble  at  their  danger : 
Thus  meaner  fpirits  with  amazement  mark 
The  varying  feafons^  and  revolving  flues, 
And  afk,  what  guilty  pow'r's  rebellious  hand 
Rolls  with  eternal  toil  the  pond'rous  orbs : 
While  fome  archangel,  nearer  to  perfection, 
In  eafy  ftate  prefides  o'er  all  their  motions, 
Directs  the  planets  with  a  carelefs  nod, 
Conducts  the  fun,  and  regulates  the  fpheres. 

Afpafia. 

Well  may'fl  thou  hide  in  labyrinths  of  found 
The  caufe  thatflirinks  from  reafon's powerful  voice. 
Stoop  from  thy  flight,  trace  back  th'  entangled 

thought, 

And  fet  the  glit'ring  fallacy  to  view. 
Not  pow'f  I^blame,  but  pow'r  obtain'd  by  crime, 
•Angelic  greatnefs  is  angelic  virtue. 
Amidft  the  glare  of  courts,  the  fhout  of  armies, 
Will  not  th'  apoftate  feel  the  pangs  of  guilt, 
And  wifh  too  late  for  innocence  arid  peace  ? 
Curfl  as  the  tyrant  of  th'  infernal  realms, 
With  gloomy  ftate  and  agonizing  pomp. 

SCENE  IX- 

IRENE,   ASI'ASIA,    MAID. 
Maid. 

A  Turkifli  ftranger,  of  majeftic  mien, 
Aflcs  at  the  gate  admiffion  to  Afpafia, 
Commiffion'd,  as  he  fays,  by  Cali  Bafla. 

Irene. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  or  whatfo'er  thy  meffage,  [AjlJt 
Thanks  forthis  kind  relief — With  fpeed  admit  him. 

Afpafia. 

He  comes,  perhaps,  to  feparate  us  for  ever ; 
When  I  am  gone  remember,  O  !    remember, 
That  none  are  great,  or  happy,  but  the  virtuous. 
it  Irene,  Enter  Demetrius. 


SCENE  X. 


ASPAS1A,   DEMETRIUS. 

Demetrius. 

'Tis  fhe— my  hope,  my  happinefs,  my  love  f 
Afpafia  !  do  I  once  again  behold  thee  ? 
Still,  ftill  the  fame— unclouded  by  misfortune  ! 

Let  my  bleft  eyes  for  ever  gaze 

Afpafia. 

Demetri«s  I 
Demetrius. 

Why  does  the  blood  forfake  thy  lovely  cheek  ? 
Why  .hoots  this   chillnefs   through  thy   fnakinj 

nerves  ? 

\Vhy  does  thy  foul  retire  into  herfelf  ? 
Recline  upon  my  breaft  thy  finking  beauties: 
Revive — Revive  to  freedom  and  to  love. 

Afpafta. 
What  well-known  voice  pronounc'd  the  grateful 

founds 

Freedom  and  love  ?  Alas  !  I'm  all  confufion, 
A  fudden  mift  o'ercafts  my  darken'd  foul, 
The  prcfent,  pad,  and  future  fwim  before  me, 
Loft  in  a  wild  perplexity  of  joy. 

Demetrius. 

Such  ecftafy  of  love  !  fuch  pure  affection, 
What  worth  can  merit  ?  or  what  faith  reward  ? 

Afpafia. 

A  thoufand  thoughts,  imperfect  and  diftracted, 
Demand  a  voice,  and  ftruggle  into  birth ; 
A  thoufand  queftions  prefs  upon  my  tongue, 
But  all  give  way  to  rapture  and  Demetrius. 

Dsmetrius. 

O  fay,  bright  being,  in  this  age  of  abfehcc, 
What  fears,  what  griefs,  what  dangers  haft  thou 

known  ? 

Say,  how  the  tyrant  threaten'd,  flatter'd,  figh'd, 
Say,  how  he  threaten'd,  flatter'd,  figh'd  in  vain ! 
Say,  how  the  hand  of  violence  was  rais'd, 
Say,  how  thou  call'dft  in  tears  upon  Demetrius! 

Afpofia. 

Inform  me  rather,  how  thy  happy  courage 
Stem'd  in  the  breach  the  deluge  of  deftruction, 
And  pafs'd  uninjur'd  through  the  walks  of  death  ? 
Did  favage  anger,  and  licentious  conqueft, 
Behold  the  hero  with  Afpafia's  eyes  ? 
And  thus  protected  in  the  gen'ra  j^um, 

0  fay,  what  guardian  pow'r  convey'd  thee  hither. 

Demetrius, 

Such  ftrange  events,  fuch  unexpected  chances, 
Beyond  my  warmeft  hope,  or  wildeft  wilb.es, 
Concur'd  to  give  trie  to  Afpafia's  arms, 

1  ftand  amaz'd,  and  aflc,  if  yet  I  clafp  thee. 

Afpafia. 

Sure  heav'n,  for  wonders  are  not  wrought  in  vain. 
That  joins  us  thus,  will  never  part  us  more. 

SCENE  XI. 

DEMETRIUS,   ASPASIA,   ABDALLA. 

Abdalla. 

It  parts  you  now — The  hafty  fultan  fign'd 
The  laws  unread,  and  flies  to  his  Irene. 

Demetrius. 

Fix'd  and  intent  on  his  Irene's  charms, 
He  envies  none  the  converfe  of  Afpafia. 
3!  ij 


THE  WORKS  OF  JOHNSON. 


94 

AMalla. 

Afpafia's  abfcnce  will  inflame  fufpicion ; 
She  cannot,  muft  rot,  flialJ  not  linger  here, 
Prudence  and  friendship  bid  me  force  her  from 
you. 

Demetrius. 
Force  her !  profane  her  with  a  touch,  and  die. 

Abdalla. 

'Tis  Greece,  'tis  freedom  calls  Afpafia  hence, 
Your  carelefs  love  betrays  your  country's  caufe. 

Demetrius. 
If  we  muft  part— 

Afpafia. 

No !  let  us  die  togetliEr. 
Demetrius. 
if  we  muft  part— 

AbJtlta. 

Dilpatch ;  th'  increafing  danger 
Will  not  admit  a  lover's  long  farewell, 
The  long-drawn  intercourfe  of  Cghs  and  kiffes. 

Demetriut. 

Then— O  my  fair,  I  cannot  bid  thee  go ; 
Receive  her,  and  protect  her,  gracious  Heav'n  ! 
Yet  let  me  watch  her  dear  departing  fteps, 
If  fate  pnrfues  me,  let  it  find  me  here. 

Reproach  not,  Greece,  a  lover's  fond  delays, 
Nor  think  thy  caufe  nejjlecled  while  I  gaze'; 
New  force,  new  courage,  from  each  glance  I 

gain, 
And  find  our  paffionsnot  infus'd  in  vain. 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  IV.— SCENE  I. 

BEMETRIUS,  ASPASIA,  enter  as  talking. 

Afpafia. 

ENOUGH— refifUefs  reaion  calms  my  foul- 
Approving  iuftice  fmiles  upon  your  caufe, 
And  nature  s  rights  entreat  th*  afferting  fword. 
Yet  when  your  hand  is  lifted  to  deftroy, 
Think — but  excufe  a  woman's  needlefs  caution, 
Purge  well  thy  mind  from  ev'ry  private  paffiun. 
Drive  int'reft,    love,    and  vengeance   from    thy 

thoughts, 

Fill  all  thy  ardent  breaft  with  Greece  and  virtue, 
Then  ftrike  fecure,  and  Heav'n  affift  the  blow ! 

^*        Dmetr'nit. 

Thou  kind  afli%uit  of  my  better  angel, 
•  Propitious  guide  of  my  bewilder'd  foul, 
Cairn  of  my  cares,  and  guardian  of  my  virtue  ! 

Afpafia. 

My  foul,  firft  kindled  by  thy  bright  example 
To  noble  thought  and  gen'rous  emulation, 
Now  but  reflects  thole  beams  that  fiow'd  from 
thee. 

Dcmctrivi. 

With  native  luflre  and  unborrow'd  greatnefs, 
Thou  fhin'ft,  bright  maid,  fuperior  to  diftrefs ; 
Unlike  the  trifling  race  of  vulgar  beauties, 
Thofe  glitt'ring  dew-drops  of  a  vernal  morn, 
That  fpread  their  colours  to  the  genial  beam, 
And  fparkling  quiver  to  the  breath  of  May ; 
But  when  the  tempeft  with  fonorous  wing 
Sweeps  o'er  the  grove,  forfake  the  lab'ring  bough, 
Difpers'd  in  air,  or  mingled  with  the  duft. 

JJpafia. 

Forbear  thii  triumph — ftiil  new  conflids  wait  us, 
5 


Foes  unforfeen,  and  dangers  unfufpe6tecL 
Oft  when  the  fierce  befieger's  eager  holt 
Beholds  the  fainting  garnfon  retire, 
And  ruflies  joyful  to  the  naked  wall, 
Definition  flafhes  from  th'  infidious  mine, 
And  fweeps  th'  exulting  conqueror  away  : 
Perhaps  in  vain  the  fultan\  anger  fpar'd  me, 
To  find  a  meaner  fate  from  treach'rous  friend* 

fhip— 
Abdalla!  - 

Demetriut. 

Can  .-ibdalla  then  diflfemble  ? 
That  fiery  chief,  renown'd  for  gen'rous  freedom, 
For  zeal  unguarded,  undiffembled  hate, 
For  daring  truth,  and  turbulence  of  honour  ? 

Affajta. 

This  open  friend,  this  undeiigninghero, 
With  noifyfalfchoods  foic'd  me  from  your  armt, 
To  fhockmy  virtue  with  a  tale  of  love. 

Demetriut. 

Did  not  the  caufe  of  Greece  reftrain  my  fword, 
Afpafia  fhould  not  fear  a  fecond  infult. 

Affafttt. 

His  pride  and  love  by  turns  wsfpir'd  his  tongue, 
And  intermix'd  my  praifcs  with  his  own  ; 
His  wealth,  his  rank,  his  honour*  he  recounted, 
Till,  in  the  midit  of  arrogance  and  fondnefs, 
Th'  approaching  fultan  forc'd  me  from  the  palace; 
Then  while  he  gaz'd  upon  his  yielding  miftrefs, 
1  ftole  unheeded  from  their  ravifh'd  eyes, 
And  fought  this  happy  grove  in  queft  of  thee. 

Demetriut. 

Soon  may  die  final  ftroke  decide  our  fate, 
Left  baneful  difcord  cruih  our  infant  fcheme, 
And  ftrangled  freedom  perifh  in  the  birth  ! 

Afpafia. 

My  bofom,  harafs'd  with  alternate  paffions, 
Now  hopes,  now  fears— 

Demetriut. 

Th'  anxieties  of  love, 
AJpafia. 

Think  how  the  fov'reign  arbiter  of  kingdoms 
Detefts  thy  falfe  affociates'  black  defigns, 
And  frowns  on  perjury,  revenge  and  murder. 
Embark'd  with  treafon  on  the  feas  of  fate, 
When  heav'n  fhall  bid  the  fwelling  billows  rage, 
And  point  vindictive  lightnings  at  rebellion, 
Will  not  the  patriot  fhare  the  traitor's  danger  ? 
Oh  could  thy  hand  unaided  free  thy  country, 
Nor  mingled  guilt  pollute  the  facred  caufe  ! 

Demetriut. 

Permitted  oft,  though  not  infpir'd  by  heav'n, 
Succefsful  treafons  punifh  impious  kings. 


Nor  end  my  terrors  with  the  fultan's  death; 
Far  as  futurity's  untravell'd  wafte 
Lies  open  to  conjecture's  dubious  ken, 
On  ev'ry  fide  confufion,  rage  and  death, 
Perhaps  the  phantoms  of  a  woman's  fear, 
Befet  the  treacherous  way  with  fatal  ambufh  ; 
Each  Turkifh  bofom  burns  for  thy  deftru&ion, 
Ambitious  Cali  dreads  the  ftatefman's  arts, 
And  hot  Abdalla  hates  the  happy  lover. 

Demetriut. 

Capricious  man  !  to  good  and  ill  inconftant, 
Too  much  to  fear,  or  truft,  is  equal  weaknefs. 
Sometimes  the  wretch  unaw'd  by  heav'n  or  hell, 
With  mad  devotion  idolizes  honour. 


IRENE. 


The  Baflii,  reeking  with  his  matter's  murder, 
Perhaps  may  ftart  at  violated  friendship. 

Afrafra. 

How  foon,  alas !  will  mt' reft  fear,  or  envy, 
O'erthrow  fuch  weak,  fuch  accidental  virtue, 
Nor  built  on  faith,  nor  fortify'd  by  conscience  ! 

Demetriui. 

When  defp'rate  ills  demand  a  fpesdy  cure, 
Diftruft  is  cowardice,  and  prudence  folly. 

Affafta. 

Yet  think  a  moment,  ere  you  court  deftruclion, 
What  hand,  when. death  has  fiiatch'd  away  De 
metrius, 
Shall  guard  Afpafia  from  triumphant  luft. 

Demetrius. 

Difmifs  thefe  needlefs  fears — a  troop  of  Greeks 
Well  known,  long  try'd,  expedt  us  on  the  fhore. 
Borne  on  the  furface  of  the  fmiling  deep, 
Soon  (halt  thou  fcorn,  in  fafety's  arms  repos'd, 
Abdalla's  rage  and  Call's  ftratagems. 

Aftafta. 

Still,  ftill  diftruft  fits  heavy  on  my  heart. 
Will  e'er  an  happier  hour  rcvifit  Greece  .* 

Dtmctriuj. 

Should  Heav'n  yet  unappeas'd  refufe  its  aid, 
Diperfc  our  hopes,  and  fruftrate  our  defigns, 
Yet  fliall  the  confcience  of  the  great  attempt 
Diffufe  a  brightnefs  on  our  future  days ; 
Nor  will  his  country's  groans  reproach  Demetrius. 
But  how  canft  thou  fupport  the  woes  of  exile  ? 
Canft  thou  forget  hereditary  fplendours, 
To  live  obfcure  upon  a  foreign  coaft, 
Content  with  fcience,  innocence,  and  love  ? 

Afpafia. 

Nor  wealth,  nor  titles,  make  Afpafia's  blifs. 
O'erwhelm'd  and  loft  amidft  the  public  ruins, 
Unmov'd  I  faw  the  glitt'ring  trifles  perifh, 
And  thought  the  petty  drofs  beneath  a  figh. 
Cheerful  I  follow  to  the  rural  cell, 
Love  be  my  wealth,  and  my  diflinction  virtue. 

-  Demetrius. 

Submiflive  and  prepared  for  each  event, 
Now  let  us  wait  the  laft  award  of  Heav'n, 
Secure  of  happinefs  from  flight  or  conqueft, 
Nor  fear  the  fair  and  learn 'd  can  want  protection. 
The  mighty  Tufcan  courts  the  banifh'd  arts 
To  kind  Italians  hofpitable  fliades; 
There  fliall  foft  leifure  wing  th'  txcurfive  foul, 
And  peace  propitious  fmile  on  fond  defire ; 
There  fhall  defpotic  eloquence  refume 
Her  ancient  empire  o'er  the  yielding  heart ; 
There  poetry  fliall  tune  her  facred  voice, 
And  wake  from  ignarance  the  weftein  world. 

SCENE  II. 
DEMETRIUS,  ASPASIA,  CAM. 

Cali. 

At  length  th'  unwilling  fun  refigns  the  world 
To  filence  and  to  reft.    The  hours  of  darknefs, 
Propitious  hours  to  Itratagem  and  death, 
Purfuc  the  laft  remains  of  ling'ring  light. 

Demetrius. 

Count  not  thefe  hours  as  parts  of  vulgar  time, 
Think  them  a  facred  treafure  lent  by  Heay'n, 
Which  fquander'd  by  neghift,  or  fear,  or  folly, 
No  pray'r  recals,  no  diligence  redeems ; 


86; 


To-morrow  s  dawn  fhall  fee  the  Turkifli  Kne 
To-ffJ1  ".the  duft,  or  tow'ring  on  his  throne  - 
The  fportT*  dawn  fliall  fee  the  mighty  Cali 

"ranny,  or  lord  of  nations. 
Then  wafte  no  lonfa    Cali. 
In  foft  endearments,  jfa.efe  important  moment* 
Nor  lofe  in  love  the  patrioi-qentle  murmurs 

Demetrius'.  fhe  hero. 
'Tis  love  combin'd  with  guilt  alone, 
The  foften'd  foul  to  cowardice  and  flotirrieks 
But  virtuous  paflion  prompts  the  great  refolv^. 
And  fans  the  flumb'ring  fpark  of  heav'nly  fire. 
Retire,  my  fair;  that  pow'r  that  fmiles  on  goodnefs 
Guide  all  thy  fteps,  calm  ev'ry  ftormy  thought, 
And  ftill  thy  bofom  with  the  voice  of  peace  ! 

Afpafia. 

Soon  may  we  meet  again,  fecure  and  free, 
To  feel  no  more  the  pangs  of  feparation !      [Exit, 

DEMETRIUS,   CALI. 

-  Demetrius. 

This  night  alone  is  ours — Our  mighty  foe, 
No  longer  loft  in  am'rous  folitude, 
Will  now  remount  the  flighted  feat  of  empire, 
And  fliow  Irene  to  the  fliouting  people : 
Afpafia  left  her  fighing  in  his  arms, 
And  lift'ning  to  the  pleafing  tale  of  pow'r, 
With  foften  d  voice  flie  dropp'd  the  faint  refufal, 
Smiling  confent  flie  fat,  and  blufliing  love. 

Calf. 

Now,  tyrant,  with  fatiety  of  beauty 
Now  feaft  thine  eyes,  thine  eyes  that  ne'er  here 
after 

Shall  dart  their  am'rous  glances  at  the  fair, 
Or  glare  on  Cali  with  malignant  beams. 

SCENE  III. 

DEMETRIUS,   CALI,    LEONTIUS,  ABDALLA. 

Leontius. 

Our  bark  unfeen  has  reach'd  th'  appointed  bay, 
And  where  yon  trees  wave  o'er  the  foaming  furge 
Reclines  againft  the  fhqre :  our  Grecian  troop 
Extends  its  lines  along  the  fandy  beach, 
Elate  with  hope,  and  panting  for  a  fqe. 

Abdalla. 

The  fav'ring  winds  afEft  the  great  defign, 
Sport  in  our  fails,  and  murmur  o'er  the  the  deep, 

Cali. 

'Tis  well — A  fingle  blow  completes  our  wifhe»  : 
Return  with  fpeed,  Leontius,  to  your  charge; 
The  Greeks,  diforder'd  by  their  leader's  abfence, 
May  droop  difmay'd,  or  kindle  into  madnefs. 

Leontius. 

Sufpe&ed  ftill  ? — What  villain's  pois'nous  tongue 
Dares  join  Lecntius'  name  with  fear  or  falfehood? 
Have  i  for  this  preferv'd  my  guiltlefs  bofom, 
Pure  as  the  thoughts  of  infant  innocence  ? 
Have  I  for  this  defy'd  the  chiefs  of  Turkey, 
intrepid  in  the  flaming  front  of  war? 

Cali. 
Haft  thou    not   fearch'd  my  foul's  profoundefl 

thoughts  ? 
Is  not  the  fate  of  Greece  and  Cali  thine  ? 

Leontius. 
Why  has  thy  choice  then  pointed  < 


8?o 


THE  WORKS 


Unfit  to  fliare  this  night's  illuftrious  toils? 
To  wait  remote  from  aclion  and  from  honour, 
An  idle  lift'ner  to  the  diftant  cries     _    _ds  t 
Of  flaughter'd  infidels,  and  clafn  ol  ljme)  Deme. 
Tell  me  the  caufe,  that  while  tb- 

trius,  ^   .vings  of  glory, 

Shall  foar  triumphant  oriitms  muft  dc fcend 
Defpis'd  and  curs' d,,  a  proverbial  coward, 
Through  hiflinscn,  and  the  fcorn  of  fools? 
The  tale  of  '  Demetrius. 

.c  Leontius  be  the  flave  of  glory  ? 
C?*f>  the  cafual  gift  of  thoughtlefs  crowds ! 
-jrlory,  the  bribe  of  avaricious  virtue  ! 
Be  but  my  country  free,  be  thine  the  praife ; 
I  alk  no  witnefs,  but  attefting  confcience, 
No  records,  but  the  records  of  the  flcy. 

Leontius. 

Wilt  thou  then  head  the  troop  upon  the  fhpre, 
While  I  deftroy  th'  oppreflor  of  mankind  ? 

Demetrius . 

What  canft  thou  boaft  fuperior  to  Demetrius  ? 
Alk  to  whofe  fword  the  Greeks  will  truft  their 

caufe, 

My  name  lhall  echo  through  the  fhout'mg  field  ; 
Demand  wkofe  force  yon  Turkilh  heroes  dread, 
The  fliudd'ring  camp  lhall  murmur  out  Demetrius. 

Cali. 

Muft  Greece,  ftill  wretched  by  her  children's  folly, 
Tor  ever  mourn  their  avarice  or  factions? 
Demetrius  juftly  pleads  a  double  title, 
The  lover's  int'reft  aids  the  patriot's  claim. 

Leontiut.  • 

My  pride  fhall  ne'er  protract  my  country's  woes ; 
Succeed,  my  friend,  unenvied  by  Leontius. 

Demetrius. 

3  feel  new  fpirit  moot  along  my  nerves, 
My  foul  expands  to  meet  approaching  freedom. 
Now  hover  o'er  us  with  propitious  wings, 
Ye  facred  fhades  of  patriots  and  of  martyrs; 
All  ye,  whofe  blood  tyrannic  rage  effus'd, 
Or  perfecution  drank,  attend  our  call ; 
And  from  the  manfions  of  perpetual  peace 
Defcend,  to  fweeten  labours  once  your  own. 

Call. 

Go  then,  and  with  united  eloquence 
Confirm  your  troops ;  and  when  the  moon's  fair 

beam 

Plays  on  the  quiv'ring  waves,  to  guide  our  flight, 
Return,  Demetrius,  and  be  free  for  ever. 

[Exeunt  Dem.  and  Leon. 

SCENE  IV. 

CALI,  ABDALLA. 

Abdalla. 

How  the  new  monarch,  fwell'd  with  airy  rule, 
Looks  down,  contemptuou  s,  from  his  fancy'd  height, 
And  utters  fate,  unmindful  of  Abdalla ! 

Cali. 

Far  be  fuch  black  ingratitude  from  Cali ; 
When  Afia's  nations  own  me  for  their  lord, 
Wealth,and  command,  and  graudeur,  lhall  bethine 

Abdalla. 

Is  this  the  recompence  referv'd  for  me  ? 
Dar'ft  thou  thus  dally  with  Abdalla's  paffion  ? 


,  .-icnceforward  hope  no  more  my  flighted  friend- 
fhip,  [tures, 

Wake  from  thy  dream  of  pow'r  to  death  and  tor- 
And  bid  thy  vifionary  throne  farewell. 

Call. 

Name,  and  enjoy  thy  wifh  — 
AbdMa. 

I  need  not  name  it  ; 
Afpafia's  lovers  know  but  one  defire, 
Nor  hope,  nor  wilh,  nor  live,  but  for  Afpafia. 

Call. 

That  fatal  beauty  plighted  to  Demetrius, 
Heav'n  makes  not  mine  to  give. 

Abdalla. 
Nor  to  deny, 

Call. 
Obtain  her  and  poflefs,  thou  know'  ft  thy  rivaL 


Too  well  I  know  him,  fince  on  Thracia's  plaint 
I  felt  the  force  of  his  tempeftnous  arm, 
And  faw  my  fcatter'd  fquadrons  fly  before  him. 
Nor  will  I  truft  th'  uncertain  chance  of  combat  ; 
The  rights  of  princes  let  the  fword  decide, 
The  petty  claims  of  empire  and  of  honour  : 
Revenge  and  fubtle  jealoufy  fhall  teach 
A  furer  paffage  to  his  hated  heart. 

Call. 

O  fpare  the  gallant  Greek,  in  him  we  lofe 
The  politician's  arts,  and  hero's  flame. 

Abdalla. 

When  next  we  meet,  before  we  ftorm  the  palace, 
The  bowl  fhall  circle  to  confirm  oqr  league, 
Then  lhall  thefe  juices  taint  Demetrius'  draught, 

\Showing  a  phial. 

Andftream  deftrudlive  through  his  freezing  veins:  j 
Thus  fhall  he  live  to  ftrike  th'  important  blow, 
And  perifh  ere  he  taftes  the  joys  of  conqueft. 

SCENE  V. 

MAHOMET,  MUSTAPHA,  CALI,  ABDALLA. 

JVIabomet. 

Henceforth  for  ever  happy  be  this  day, 
Sacred  to  love,  to  pleafure,  and  Irene  : 
The  matchlefs  fair  has  blefs'd  me  with  compliance  ; 
Let  every  tongue  refound  Irene's  praife, 
And  fpread  the  general  tranfport  through  mankind. 

Call. 

Bleft  prince,  for  whom  indulgent  Hciv'n  ordains 
At  once  the  joys  of  paradife  and  empire, 
Now  join  thy  people's,  and  thy  Cali's  prayers, 
Sufpend  thy  paffage  to  the  feats  of  blii's, 
Nor  wilh  for  houries  in  Irene's  arms. 

Mahomet. 
Forbear—  I  know  the  long-try'd  faith  of  Cali. 

Call. 

O,  could  the  eyes  of  kings,  like  thofe  of  HeaVn, 
Search  to  the  dark  recefles  of  the  foul, 
Oft  would  they  find  ingratitude  and  treafon, 
By  fmiles,  and  oaths,  and  praifes  ill  difguis'd  ! 
How  rarely  would  they  meet,  in  crowded  courts, 
Fidelity  fo  firm,  fo  pure,  as  mine  ! 

Mujlapba. 

Yet,  ere  we  give  our  loofcn'd  thoughts  to  rapture,  ' 
Let  prudence  obviate  an  impending  danger 
Tainted  by  floth,  the  parent  of  feditionj 


The  hungry  janizary  hums  for  plunder, 
And  growls  in  private  o'er  his  idle  fabre. 

Mibvmet, 

To  flill  their  murmurs,  ere  the  twentieth  fun 
Shall  fhed  his  beams  upon  the  bridal  bed, 
I  rouze  to  war,  and  conquer  for  Irene. 
Then  (hall  the  Rhodian  mourn  his  finking  tow'rs, 
Aad  Buda  fall,  and  proud  Vienna  tremble, 
Then  fliall  Venetia  feel  the  Turkifli  pow'r, 
And  fubjetft  feas  rear  round  their  queen  in  vain. 

Aiidallj. 

Then  feize  fair  Italy's  delightful  coaft, 
To  fix  your  ftandard  in  imperial  Rome. 

M^')oinet. 

Her  fons  malicious  clemency  fliall  fpare, 
To  form  new  legends,  fanclify  new  crimes, 
To  canonize  the  flaves  of  fuperftition, 
And  fill  the  world  with  follies  and  impoftures, 
Till  angry  Heav'n  fliall  mark  them  out  for  ruin, 
And  war  o'erwhelm  them  in  their  dream  of  vice. 
O  could  her  fabled  faints,  and  boafted  prayers, 
Call  forth  her  ancient  heroes  to  the  field, 
How  fhould  I  joy,  'midft  the  fierce  fhock  of  nations, 
To  crofs  the  tow'rings  of  -an  equal  foul, 
And  bid  the  mafter  genius  rule  the  world  ! 
Abdalla,  Cali,  go—  proclaim  my  pupofe. 

[Exeunt  Cali  and  Abdalla. 

SCENE  VI. 

MAHOMET,  MUSTAPHA. 


IRENE.  871 

Betray'd  the  wild  emotions  of  his  min;l. 
Sudden  he  flops,  and  inward  turns  his  eyes, 
Abforb'd  in  thought;  then  ftarting  from  his  trance. 
Conflrains  a  fullen  fmile,  and  flioots  away. 
With  him  Abdalla  we  beheld — 


Still  Cali  lives,  and  muft  he  live  to-morrow  ? 
That  fawning  villain's  forc'd  congratulations 
Will  cloud  my  triumphs,  and  pollute  the  day. 

M'jjiapha. 

With  cautious  vigilance,  at  my  command, 
Two  faithful  captains,  Hafan  and  Caraza, 
Purfue  him  through  his  labyrinths  of  treafon, 
And  wait  your  fummons  to  report  his  conduct. 

Mahomet. 

Call  them—  but  let  them  not  prolong  their  tale, 
Nor  prefs  too  much  upon  a  lover's  patience. 

[Exit  Muftapha. 

SCENE  VII. 

Mahomet  folus. 

Whome'er  the  hope,  ftill  blafted,  ftill  renew'd, 
Of  happincfs,  lur?s  on  from  toil  to  toil, 
Remember  Mahomet,  and  ccafe  thy  labour. 
Behold  him  here,  :'n  love,  in  war  fuccefsful, 
Behold  him  wretched  in  his  double  triumph  ; 
His  fav'rite  faithlefs,  and  his  miflrefs  bafe. 
Ambition  only  gave  her  to  my  arms, 
By  reafon  not  convinc'd,  nor  won  by  love. 
Ambition  was  her  crime,  but  meaner  folly 
Dooms  me  to  lothe  at  once,  and  doat  on  falfchood, 
And  idolize  th'  apoftate  I  contemn. 
It  thou  art  more  than  the  gay  dream  of  fancy, 
More  than  a  pleafing  found  without  a  meaning, 
O  happinefs  '.  fure  thou  art  all  Alpafia's. 

SCENE  VIII. 

MAMOMET,  MUSTAPHA,  HASSAN,  AND  CARAZA. 

Mahomet. 
Caraza,  fpeak—  have  ye  remark'd  the  Baffa  ? 

Caraza. 

Clofe,  as  we  might  unfeen,  we  watch'd  his  fteps  ; 
His  ail  diforder'd,  and  his  gait  unequal, 


Abdalla ! 
Mahomet. 

He  wears  of  late  refentment  on  his  brow, 
Deny'd  the  government  of  Servia's  province. 

Caraza. 

We  mark'd  him  ftorming  in  excefs  of  fury, 
And  heard,  within  the  thicket  that  conceal'd  us, 
An  undittinguifli'd  found  of  threat' ning  rage. 

Mijlapba, 

How  guilt  once  harbour'd  in  the  confcious  breaft, 
Intimidates  the  brave,  degrades  the  great ! 
See  Cali,  dread  of  kings,  and  pride  of  armies, 
By  treafon  levell'd  with  the  dregs  of  men  ! 
Ere  guilty  fear  deprefs'd  the  Iwary  chief, 
An  angry  murmur,  a  rebellious  frown, 
Had  ftretch'd  the  fiery  boafler  in  the  grave. 

Mahomet. 

Shall  monarch*  fear  to  draw  the  fword  of  juftice, 
Aw'd  by  the  crowd,  and  by  their  flaves  reftrain'd? 
Seize  him  this  night,  and  through  the  private  paf- 

fage 

Convey  him  to  the  prifon's  inmoft  depths, 
Referv'd  to  all  the  pangs  of  tedious  death. 

[Exeunt  Mahomet  and  Muftapha. 

SCENE  IX. 

HASAN,  CARAZA. 
Hafan. 

Shall  then  the  Greeks,  unpunifh'd  and  conceal'd, 
Contrive,  perhaps,  the  ruin  of  our  empire, 
League  with  our  chiefs,  and  propagate  fedition  ? 

Caraza. 

Whate'er  their  fcheme,  the  Bafla's  death  defeats  it, 
And  gratitude's  ftrong  ties  reftrain  my  tongue.] 

Hafan. 
What  ties  to  flaves  ?  what  gratitude  to  foes  ? 

Caraza. 

In  that  black  day  when  flaughter'd  thoufands  fell 
Around  thefe  fatal  walls,  the  tide  of  war 
Bore  me  victorious  onward,  where  Demetrius 
Tore  unrefifted  from  the  giant  hand 
Of  ftern  Sebalias,  the  triumphant  crefcent, 
And  dafh'd  the  might  of  Afem  from  the  ramparts. 
There  I  became,  nor  blufli  to  make  it  known, 
The  captive  of  his  fword.   The  coward  Greeks, 
Enrag'd  by  wrongs,  exulting  with  fuccefs, 
DoonVd  me  to  die  with  all  the  Turkifli  captains; 
But  brave  Demetrius  fcorn'd  the  mean  revenge, 
And  gave  me  life 

Hafan. 

Do  thou  repay  the  gift, 
Left  unrewarded  mercy  lofe  its  charms. 
Profufe  of  wealth,  or  bounteous  of  fuccefs, 
When  Heav'n  beftows  the  privilege  to  blefs ; 
Let  no  weak  doubt  the  gen'rous  hand  reftrain, 
For  when  was  pow'r  beneficent  in  vain  ?      [Exit, 

ACT  V.— SCENE  I. 

Afpafta  folus. 

IH  thefe  dark  moments  of  fufpendcd  fate, 
While  yet  the  future  fortune  of  my  country 
3  I  «'j 


«7»  THE  WORKS 

Lies  in  the  womb  of  ^Providence  conceal'd, 
And  anxious  angels  wair  the  mighty  birth  ; 
O  grant  thy  facrcd  influence,  pow'rful  virtue  ! 
Attention  rife,  furvey  the  fair  creation, 
Till,  confcious  of  th' encircling  deity, 
Beyond  the  mifts  of  care  thy  pinion  tow'rs. 
This  calm,  thefe  joys,  deaf  innocence,  are  thine, 
Joys  ill  exchang'd  for  gold,  and  pride,  and  empire. 
[Enter  Irene  and  attendants. 

SCENE  11. 

ASPASIA,  IRENE,  ATTENDANTS. 

Irene. 

See  how  the  moon  through  all  th'  unclouded  fty 
Spreads  her  mild  radiance,  and  defcen ding  dews 
Revive  the  languid  flow'rs ;  thus  nature  mone 
New  from  the  Maker's  hand,  and  fair  array'd 
In  th«  bright  colours  of  primseval  Spring ; 
When  purity,  while  fraud  was  yet  unknown, 
Play'd  fearlefs  in  th'  inviolated  (hades. 
This  elemental  joy,  this  gen'ral  calm, 
Isfure  the  fmile  of  unoffended  Heav'n. 
Yet !  why.  . 

Maid. 

Behold,  within  th'  embow'riag  grove 
Afpafia  Hands 

Irene. 

With  melancholy  mien, 
Penfive,  and  envious  of  Irene's  greatnefs. 
Steal  unperceiv'd  upon  her  meditations—  ' 
But  fee,  the  lofty  maid,  at  our  approach, 
Refumes  th'  imperious  air  of  haughty  virtue. 
Are  thefe  th'  unceafing  joys,  th'  nnmingled  plea- 
fures  \To  Afpafia. 

For  which  AfpaCa  fcorn'd  the  Turkiftj  crown  ? 
Is  this  th'  unfliaken  confidence  in  Heav'n  ? 
Is  this  the  boafted  blifs  of  confcious  virtue  ? 
When  did  content  figh  out.her  cares  in  fccrct  ? 
When  did  felicity  repine  in  deferts  ? 

Afpafia. 

Ill  fuits  with  guilt  the  gaieties  of  triumph ; 
When  daring  vice  infults  eternal  juftice, 
The  minifters  of  wrath  forget  compaffion, 
And  fnatch  the  flaming  bolt  with  hafty  hand. 

Irene. 

Forbear  thy  threats,  proud  prophetefs  of  ill, 
Vers'd  in  the  fecret  counfels  of  the  fey. 

Afpafia. 

Forbear — But  thou  art  funk  beneath  reproach ; 
In  vain  affeded  raptures  fluih  the  cheek, 
And  fongs  of  plcafure  warble  from  the  tongue, 
When  fear  and  anguifh  labour  in  the  breaft, 
And  all  within  is  darknefs  and  confufion ; 
Thus  on  deceitful  ./Etna's  flow'ry  fide, 
Unfading  verdure  glads  the  roving  eye, 
While  fecret  flames,  with  unextingulfh'd  rage, 
Infatiate  on  her  wafted  entrails  prey, 
And  melt  her  treach'rous  beauties  into  ruin. 

\Enter  Demetrius. 
SCENE  III. 

ASPASIA,  IRENE,  DEMETRIUS. 

Demetrius. 

Flv,  fly,  my  love,  deftruction  rufhes  on  us, 
The  rack  expects  us,  and  the  fword  purfues. 

Afpafia. 
Is  Greece  deliver'd  ?  is  the  tyrant  fail'n  ? 

Dtmetrius. 
Greece  is  no  mpre,  the  profp'rous  tyrant  lives, 


OF  JOHNSON. 
Referv'd,  for  other  lands,  the  fconrge  of  Heav'n, 


Say,  by  what  fraud,  what  iorcf  were  you  defeated  ? 
Betray  'd  by  falfehood,  or  by  crowds  o'erborn  ? 

Demetrius. 

The  preffmg  exigence  forbids  relation. 
Abdalla  - 


Hated  name  !  his  jealous  rage 
Broke  out  in  perfidy  —  Oh  curs'd  Afpafia, 
Born  to  complete  the  ruin  of  her  country  ! 
Hide  me,  oh  hide  me  from  upbraiding  Greece  ' 
Oh,  hide  me  from  myfelf  ! 

Demetrius. 
Be  fruitlefs  grief 

The  doom  of  guilt  alone,  nor  dare  to  feize 
The  breaft  where  virtue  guards  the  throne  of  peace* 
Devolve,  dear  maid,  thy  furrows  on  the  wretch, 
Whofe  fear,  or  rage,  or  treachery,  betray'd  us. 

Irene  afidc. 

A  private  ftation  may  difcover  more  ; 
Then  let  me  rid  them  of  Irene's  prefence  : 
Proceed,  and  give  a  loofe  to  love  and  treafon. 

\Witldrates* 


Yet  tell. 

Demetrius. 
To  tell,  or  hear,  were  wafte  of  life. 

Afpafia. 

The  life,  which  only  this  defign  fupported, 
Were  now  well  loft,  in  hearing  how  y»u  fail'd. 

Demetriui. 

Or  meanly  fraudulent,  or  madly  gay, 
Abdalla,  while  we  waited  near  the  palace, 
With  ill-tim'd  mirth  propos'd  the  bowl  of  love, 
Juft  as  it  reach'd  my  lips,  a  fudden  cry 
Urg'd  me  to  daih  it  to  the  ground  untouch'd, 
And  feize  my  fword  with  difencumber'd  hand, 

Afpafia. 
What  cry  ?  The  ftratagem  ?  Did  then  Abdalla  ?—  • 

Demetrius. 

At  once  a  thoufand  paffions  fir'd  his  cheek  ! 
Then  all  is  paft,  he  cried—  and  darted  from  us; 
Nor  at  the  call  of  Cali  deign'd  to  turn. 

Afpafia. 

Why  did  you  ftay  ?  Deferted  and  betray'd  ? 
What  more  could  force  attempt,  or  art  contrive  ? 

Demetrius. 

Amazement  feiz'd  us,  and  the  hoary  Bafla 
Stood  torpid  in  fufpenfe  ;  but  foon  Abdalla 
Return'd  with  force  that  made  refiftance  vain, 
And  bade  his  new  confederate  feize  the  traitors. 
Cali  difarm'd,  was  borne  away  to  death  ; 
Myfelf  efcap'd,  or  favour'd,  or  neglected. 


O  Greece  !  renowr.'d  for  fcience  and  for  wealth, 
Behold  thy  boafted  honours  fnatch'd  away. 

Demetriui. 

Though  difappointment  blaft  our  general  fcheme, 
Yet  much  remains  to  hope.  I  fliall  not  call 
The  day  difaft'rous  that  fecures  our  flight  ; 
Nor  think  that  effort  loft  which  refcues  thee. 

{Enter  Abdalla, 

SCENE  IV. 

IRENE,  ASPASIA,  DEMETRIUS,  ABDALLA. 

AMMa. 

At  length  the  prize  is  mine  —  The  haughty  maid 
That  bears  the  fate  of  empires  in  her  air, 


Henceforth  fliall  live  for  me  ;  for  me  alone 

Shall  plume  her  charms,  and,  with  attentive  watch, 

Steal  from  Abdalla's  eye  the  fign  to  fmile. 

Demetrius: 

Ceafe  this  wild  roar  of  favage  exultation  ; 
Advance,  and  perifli  in  the  frantic  boail. 

Afpafia. 

Forbear  Demetrius,  'tis  Afpafia  calls  thee  ; 
Thy  love,  Afpafia,  calls  ;  reftrain  thy  fword; 
Nor  rufh  on  ufelefs  wounds  with  idle  courage. 

Demetrius. 
What  now  remains  ? 

Afpafia. 
It  now  remains  to  fly  ? 

Demetrius. 

Shall  then  the  favage  live,  to  boaft  his  infult  ; 
Tell  how  Demetrius  fliunn'd  his  fingle  hand, 
And  ftole  his  life  and  miflrefs  from  his  fabre  .' 

Abdalla. 

Infatuate  loiterer,  has  fate,  in  vain, 
Unclafp'd  his  iron  gripe  to  fet  thee  free  ? 
Still  doft  thou  flutter  in  the  jaws  of  death  ; 
Snar'd  with  thy  fears,  and  maz'd  in  ftupefac- 
tion! 

Demetrius, 

Forgive,  my  fair,  'tis  life,  'tis  nature  calls, 
Now,  traitor,  feel  the  fear,  that  chills  my  hand. 


IRENE.  873 

Depart,  Demetrius,  left  my  fate  involve  thee ; 


'Tis  madnefs  to  provoke  fuperfluous  danger, 
And  cowardice  to  dread  the  boaft  of  folly. 


Fly,  wretch,  while  yet  my  pity  grants  thee  flight  ; 
The  power  of  Turkey  waits  upon  my  call. 
JLeave  but  this  maid,  refign  a  hopelefs  claim, 
And  drag  away  thy  life  in  fcorn  and  fafety, 
Thy  life,  too  mean  a  prey  to  lure  Abdalla. 

Demetrius. 

Once  more  I  dare  thy  fword  ;  behold  the  prize, 
Behold,  1  quit  her  to  the  chance  of  battle! 

[Quitting  Afpafia. 
Ahdalla. 

Well  may'ft  thou  call  thy  mailer  to  the  combat, 
And  try  the  hazard,  that  haft  nought  toi1  flake  ; 
Alike  my  death,  or  thine,  is  gain  to  thee  ; 
But  foon  thou  {halt  repent  :  another  moment 
Shall  throw  th*  attending  janizaries  round  thee. 

[Exit  bajlily  Abdalla. 

SCENE  V. 

ASPASIA,  DEMETRIUS. 

Irene. 

Abdalla  fails,  now  fortune  all  is  mine.          [AJide. 
Haile,  Murza,  to  the  palace,  let  the  Ailtan 

[To  one  after  attendants. 

Difpatch  his  guards  to  flop  the  flying  traitors, 
While  1  protract  their  Hay.  Be  fwift  and  faithful. 

[Exit  Murza. 

This  lucky  ftratagem  fliall  charm  the  Sultan,  [Afide. 
Secure  his  confidence,  and  fix  his  love. 

Demetrius. 

Behold  a  header's  worth  !  Now  fnatch,  my  fair, 
The  happy  moment,  haften  to  the  fliore, 
Ere  he  return  with  thoufands  at  his  fide. 

Afpajta. 

In  vain  I  Men  to  th'  inviting  call 
Of  freedom  and  of  love  :  My  trembling  joints, 
Relaxed  with  fear,  refufe  to  bear  me  forward. 


Forfake  a  wretch  abandon'd  to  defpair, 
To  fhare  the  miferies  herfelf  has  caus'd. 

Demetrius. 

Let  us  not  ftruggle  with  th'  eternal  will, 
Nor  languifh  o'er  irreparable  ruins; 
Come,  hafte  and  live— Thy  innocence  and  truth 
Shall  blefs our  wand'rings,  and  propitiate  Hcav'n, 

Irene. 

Prefs  not  her  flight,  while  yet  her  feeble  nerves 
Refufe  their  office,  and  uncertain  life 
Still  labours  with  imaginary  woe ; 
Here  let  me  tend  her  with  officious  care, 
Watch  each  unquiet  flutter  of  the  fare-alt, 
And  joy  to  feel  die  vital  warmth  return, 
To  fee  the  cloud  forfake  her  kindling  cheek, 
And  hail  the  rofy  dawn  of  rifing  health. 

Alpafia. 

Oh  !  rather  fcornful  of  flagitious  greatnefi, 
Refolve  to  (hare  our  dangers  and  our  toils, 
Companion  of  our  flight,  illuftrious  exile, 
Leave  flav'ry,  guilt,  and  infamy  behind. 

Irene. 

My  foul  attends  thy  voice,  and  banifli'd  virtue 
Strives  to  regain  her  empire  of  the  mind  : 
Affift  her  efforts  with  thy  ftrong  perfuafion ; 
Sure  'tis  the  happy  hour  ordain 'd  above, 
When  vanquifh'd  vice  fhall  tyrannize  no  more. 

Demetrius. 

Remember,  peace  and  anguifli  are  before  thee, 
And  honour  and  reproach,  and  heav'n  and  hell. 

Afpaftit. 
Content  with  freedom,  and  precarious  greatnefs. 

^Demetrius. 
Now  make  thy  choice,  while  yet  the  pow'r  o£ 

choice 

Kind  Heaven  affords  thee,  and  inviting  mercy 
Holds  out  her  hand  to  lead  thee  back  to  truth. 

Irene. 

Stay— in  this  dubious  twilight  of  conviction, 
The  gleams  of  reafon,  and  the  clouds  of  paflicu, 
Irradiate  and  obfcure  my  breaft  by  turns: 
Stay  but  a  moment,  and  prevailing  truth 
Will  fpread  refiftkfs  light  upon  my  foul. 

Demetrius. 

But  fince  none  knows  the  danger  of  a  moment, 
And  Heav'n  forbids  to  lavifh  life  away, 
Let  kind  compulfion  terminate  the  conteft. 

[Seizing  her  band* 

Ye  Chriftian  captives,  follow  me  to  freedom : 
A  galley  waits  us,  and  the  winds  invite. 

Irene. 
Whence  is  this  violence  ? 

Demttrius, 

Your  calmer  thought 
Will  teach  a  gentler  term. 

Irene.          - 

Forbear  this  rudenefs. 

And  learn  the  rev'rence  due  to  Turkey's  queen ; 
Fly,  flaves,  and  call  the  iuitan  to  my  refcue. 

Demetrius. 

Farewell,  unhappy  maid  :  May  ev'ry  joy 
Be  thine,  that  wealth  can  give,  or  guilt  receive! 

Afpafia. 

And  when,  contemptuous  of  imperial  pow'r, 
Difeafe  fhall  chafe  the  phantoms  of  ambition, 
May  penitence  attend  thy  mournful  bed, 
And  wing  thy  lateft  pray'r  to  pitying  Heav'n! 
[£**«!,' Dem.  Afp.  && 


$74  THE   WORKS 

SCENE  VI. 
Irene  ivaUs  at  a  dijlancefrom  her  attendants. 

After  a  paufe. 

Againft  the  head  which  innocence  fecures, 
Infidious  malice  aims  her  darts  in  vain ; , 
Turn'd  backwards  by  the  powerful   breath   of 

Keav'n. 

Perhaps  ev'n  now  the  lovers  unpurfu'd 
Bound  o'er  the  fparkling  waves.  Go,  happy  bark, 
Thy  facred  freight  fhall  flill  the  raging  main. 
To  guide  thy  paffage  fhall  th'  aerial  fpirits 
Fill  all  the  ftarry  lamps  with  double  blaze  ; 
Th'  applauding  fky  fhall  pour  forth  all  its  beams, 
To  grace  the  triumph  of  vi£orious  virtue. 
While  I,  not  yet  familiar  to  my  crimes, 
Recoil  from  thought,  and  fhudder  at  myfelf. 
How  am  I  chang'd  !  How  lately  did  Irene 
Fly  from  the  buly  -pleafures  of  her  fex, 
Well  pleas'd  to  fearch  the  treafures  of  remem 
brance, 

And  live  her  guiltlefs  moments  o'er  anew ! 
Come,  let  us  feek  new  pleafures  in  the  palace, 
Till  foft  fatigue  invite  us  to  repofe. 

[To  ber  attendants,  going  off. 

SCENE  VII. 
Enter  Muftapha,  meeting  and  flopping  ber. 

Mujlapba. 
Fair  falfehood  ftay. 

Irene. 

What  dream  of  fudden  power 
Has  taught  my  flave  the  language  of  command  ! 
Henceforth  be  wife,  nor  hope  a  fecond  pardon. 

Mujlapba. 
Who  calls  for  pardon  from  a  wretch  condemn'd  ? 

Irene. 

Thy  look,  thy  fpeech,  thy  a<ftion,  all  iswildnefs — 
Who  charges  guilt,  on  me  ? 

Mujlapba. 

Who  charges  guilt ! 

Afk  of  thy  heart ;  attend  the  voice  of  confcience — 
•»  Who  charges  guilt  I  lay  by  this  proud  refentment 
That  fires  thy  cheek,  and  elevates  thy  mien, 
Nor  thus  ufurp  the  dignity  of  virtue. 
Review  thisday. 

Irene. 

Whate'er  thy  accufation, 
The  fultan  is  my  judge. 

Mujlapha. 
That  hope  is  paft  ; 

Hard  was  the  ftrife  of  juflice  and  of  love ; 
But  now  'tis  o'er,  and  juflice  has  prevail'd.  [trius  ? 
Know'ft  thou  not  Cali  ?  know'ft  thou  not  Deme- 

Irene, 

Bold  flave,  I  know  them  both — I  know  them  trai 
tors. 

Mujlapba  [traitors. 

Perfidious ! — yes — too  well  thou  know'tt   them 

Irene. 

Their  treafon  throws  no  ftain  upon  Irene. 
This  day  has  prov'd  my  fondnei's  for  the  fultan ; 
He  knew  Irene's  truth. 

Mujlapba. 

The  fultan  knows  it, 

He  knows  how  near  apoftacy  to  trealbn — 
But  'tis  not  mine  to  judge — 1  fcorn  and  leave  thee. 
J  go,  kft  vengeaace  urge  my  hand  to  blood, 


OF   JOHNSON. 

To  blood,  too  mean  to  ftain  a  foldier's  fabre. 

[Exit  Muftapha. 
Irene  to  ber  attendants. 

Go,  blufi'ringflave. — He  has  not  heard  of  Murza. 
That  dext'rous  meffage  frees  me  from  fufpicion. 

SCENE  VIII. 

Entrr  Hafan,  Caraza,  ivitb  Mutes,  ivbo  tbrtrw  tie 
black  rope  upon  Irene,  and  fign  to  ber  attendants  t» 
ivtthdra-w. 

Hafan. 

Forgive,  fair  excellence,  th'  unwilling  tongue, 
The  tongue  that,  forc'd  by  ftrong  neceffity, 
Bids  beauty,  fuch  as  thine,  prepare  to  die. 

Irene. 

What  wild  miftake  is  this  ?  Take  hence  with  fpeed 
Your  robe  of  mourning,  and  your  dogs  of  death. 
Quick  from  my  fight,  you  inaufpicious  monfters, 
Nor  dare  henceforth  to  fhock  Irene's  walks. 

Hafan. 

Alas !  they  come,  commanded  by  the  fultan, 
Th'  unpitying  minifters  of  Turkifh  juftice, 
Nor  dare  to  ipare  the  life  his  frown  condemns. 

Irene. 

Are  thefe  the  rapid  thunderbolts  of  war, 
That  pour  with  fudden  violence  on  kingdoms, 
And  fpread  their  flames  refiftlefs  o'er  the  world  ? 
What  fleepy  charms  benumb  thefe  active  heroes, 
Deprefs  their  fpirits,  and  retard  their  fpeed  ? 
Beyond  the  fear  of  ling'ring  punifhment, 
Afpafia  now  within  her  lover's  arms 
Securely  fleeps,  and,  in  delightful  dreams, 
Smiles  at  the  threat'nings  of  defeated  rage. 

Caraza. 

We  come,  bright  virgin,  though  relenting  nature 
Shrinks  at  the  hated  tafk,  for  thy  deftruction ; 
When,  fnmmon'd  by  the  fultan's  clam'rous  fury, 
We  aflc'd,  with  tim'rous  tongue,  th'  offender's 

name, 

He  ftruck  his  tortured  breaft,  and  roar'd  Irene : 
We  ftarted  at  the  found,  again  inquir'd, 
Again  his  thund'ring  voice  return'd  Irene. 

Irene. 

Whence  is  this  rage  ?  what  barb'rous  tongue  has 

wrong'd  me  F  [cenfe  ? 

What  fraud  mifleads  him  ?  or  what  crimes  in- 

Hafan. 

Expiring  Cali  nam'd  Irene's  chamber, 
The  place  appointed  for  his  mafler's  death. 

Irene. 

Irene's  chamber  !  From  my  faithful  bofom 
Far  be  the  thought — But  hear  my  proteftation. 

Caraza. 

'Tis  ours,  alas,  to  punifh,  not  to  judge ; 
Not  call'd  to  try  the  caufe,  we  heard  the  fentence, 
Ordain'd  the  mournful  meffengers  of  death. 

Irene. 

Some  ill-defigning  ftatefman's  bafe  intrigue. ! 
Some  cruel  ftratagem  of  jealous  beauty  ! 
Perhaps  yourfelves  the  villains  that  defame  me, 
Now  hafie  to  murder,  ere  returning  thought 
Recal  th'  extorted  doom.— —It  mult  be  fo, 
Confefs  your  crime,  or  lead  me  to  the  fultan, 
There  dauntlefs  truth  fhall  blaft  the  vile  accufer 
Then  fhall  you  feel  what  language  cannot  utter, 
Each  piercing  torture,  every  change  of  pain, 
That  vengeance  can  invent,  or  pow'r  inflict. 

[Enter  Abdalla,  bcjlopi  Jbort  and  lifienst 


IRENE. 


875 


SCENE  IX. 
,  HASAN, CARAZA, ABDALLA. 

Abdalla  afide. 

AH  is  not  loft,  Abdalla,  fee  the  queen, 
gee  the  laft  witnefs  of  thy  guilt  and  fear 
EriroW  in  death — Diipatch  her  and  be  great. 

Caraza. 

Unhappy  fair !  compaflion  calls  upon  me 
To  check  this  torrent  of  imperious  rage ; 
While  unavailing  anger  crowds  thy  tongue       . 
With  idle  threats  and  fruitlefs  exclamation, 
The  fraudful  moments  ply  their  filent  wings, 
And  Real  thy  life  away.  Death's  horrid  angel 
Already  {hakes  his  bloody  fabre  o'er  thee. 
The  raging  fultan  burns  till  our  return, 
Curfes  the  dull  delays  of  ling'ring  mercy, 
And  thinks  his  fatal  mandates  ill  obey'd. 

Abdalla. 

Is  then  your  fov'reign's  life  fo  cheaply  rated, 
That  thus  you  parley  with  detected  treafon  ? 
Should  {he  prevail  to  gain  the  fultan's  prefence, 
Soon  might  her  tears  engage  a  lover's  credit ; 
Perhaps  her  malice  might  transfer  the  charge, 
Perhaps  her  pois'nous  tongue  might  blaft  Abdalla. 
Irene. 

0  let  me  but  be  heard,  nor  fear  from  me 
Or  flights  of  pow'r,  or  projects  of  ambition  ! 
My  hopes,  my  wifhes,  terminate  in  life, 

A  little  life  for  griefj  and  for  repentance. 
Abdalla. 

1  mark'd  her  wily  mefienger  afar, 

And  faw  him  fkulking  in  the  clofeft  walks : 

I  guefs'd  her  dark  defigns,  and  warn'd  the  fultan, 

And  bring  her  former  fentence  new  confirm' d. 

Hafan. 

Then  call  it  not  our  cruelty,  nor  crime, 
Deem  us  not  deaf  to  woe,  nor  blind  to  beauty, 
That,  thus  conftrain'd,  wefpeed  theftroke  of  death, 
[Beckons  tbe  mutes, 
Irene. 

O  name  not  death  !  Diftraftion  and  amazement, 
Horror  and  agony,  are  in  that  found  !- 
Let  me  but  live,  heap  woes  on  woes  upon  me, 
Hide  me  with  murd'rers  in  the  dungeon's  gloom, 
Send  me  to  wander  on  fome  pathlefs  ftiore, 
Let  fliame  and  hooting  infamy  purfue  me, 
Let  flav'ry  harafs,  and  let  hunger  gripe. 

Caraza. 

Could  we  reverfe  the  fentence  of  the  fultan, 
Our  bleeding  bofoms  plead  Irene's  caufe. 
But  cries  and  tears  are  vain,  prepare  with  patience 
To  meet  that  fate  we  can  delay  no  longer.     , 

[The  tnutei  at  thefign  lay  hold  of  her 

Abdalla. 

Difpatch,  ye  ling'ring  flaves,  or  nimbler  hands 
Quick  at  my  call  {hall  execute  your'  charge  ; 
Difpatch,  and  learn  a  fitter  time  for  pity. 

Irene. 

Grant  me  one  hour,  O  grant  me  but  a  moment, 
And  bounteous  Heaven  repay  the  mighty  mercy 
With  peaceful  death,  and  happinefs  eternal ! 
Caraza. 

The  prayer  I  cannot  grant 1  dare  not  hear. 

Short  be  thy  pains.  [S'gns  "gain  to  the  mutes 

Irene. 

Unutterable  anguifh ! 
Guilt  and  defpair !  pale  fpedres,  grin  around  me 
And  llun  me  with  the  veilings  of  damnation ! 


O,  hear  my  pray'rs !  ^.vpt)  aii-pUying  Heaven, 

hefc  tears,  thefe  pangs,  ttaJVUft  remains  of  life, 
Vor  let  the  crimes  of  this  detefteu  J^y 
3e  charg'd  upon  my  foul.  O  mercy  1  mv*/.v  I 

[Mutes  force  bti  irf. 

SCENE  X. 

ABDALLA, HASAN, CARAZA. 

Abdalla  afide. 

afe  in  her  death,  and  in  Demetrius'  flight, 
Abdalla,  bid  thy  troubled  bread  be  calm ; 
slow  {halt  thou  {bine  the  darling  of  the  fultan, 
The  plot  all  Call's,  the  detection  thine. 

Hafan  to  Caraza. 
Does  not  thy  bofom,  for  I  know  thee  tender, 
A  ftranger  to  th'  oppreflbr's  favage  joy, 
Melt  at  Irene's  fate,  and  {hare  her  woes  ?  x 

Caraza. 

rler  piercing  cries  yet  fill  the  loaded  air, 
Swell  on  my  ear,  and  fadden  all  my  foul ; 
But  let  us  try  to  clear  our  clouded  brows, 
And  tell  the  horrid  tale  with  cheerful  face ; 
The  ftormy  fultan  rages  at  our  ftay. 

Abdella, 

Frame  your  report  with  circumfpective  art, 
Inflame  her  crimes,  exalt  your  own  obedience, 
But  let  no  thoughtlefs  hint  involve  Abdalla. 

Caraza. 

What  need  of  caution  to  report  the  fate 
Of  her  the  fultan's  voice  condemn'd  to  die  ? 
Or  why  fhould  he,  whofe  violence  of  duty 
Has  ferv'd  his  prince  fo  well,  demand  our  filence  ? 

Abdalla. 

Perhaps  my  zeal  too  fierce,  betray 'd  my  prudence; 
Perhaps  my  warmth  exceeded  my  commiflion ; 
Perhaps  I  will  not  ftoop  to  plead  my  caufe ; 
Or  argue  with  the  {lave  that  fav'd  Demetrius. 

Caraza. 

From  his  efcape  learn  thou  the  pow'r  of  virtue, 
Nor  hope  his  fortune  while  thou  want'ft  his  worth. 

Hafan. 
The  fultan  comes,  ftill  gloomy,  ftill  enrag'd. 

SCENE  XI. 

HASAN,  CARAZA,  MAHOMET,  MUSTAPHA,  AB 
DALLA. 

Mahomet. 
Where's  this  fair  trait'rel's  ?  Where's  this  fmiling 

mifchief? 
Whom  neither  vows  could  fix,  nor  favours  bind  ? 

H*fan. 

Thine  orders,  mighty  fultan,  are  perform'd, 
And  all  Irene  now  is  brcathleis  clay. 

j\labomet. 

Your  hafty  zeal  defrauds  the  claim  of  juftice, 
And  difappointed  vengeance  burns  in  vain  ; 
I  came  to  heighten  tortures  by  reproach, 
And  add  new  terrors  to  the  face  of  death,    [pire  ! 
Was  this  the  maid  whofe  love  I  bought  with  em- 
True,  flic  was  fair ;  the  iinile  of  innocence 
Play'd  on  her  cheek — So  {hone  the  firft  apoftate— 
Irene's  chamber !  Did  not  roaring  Cali, 
Tuft  as  the  rack  forc'd  out  his  ftruggling  foul, 
Name  for  the  fcene  of  death  Irene  s  chamber  ? 

Muftafba. 

His  breath  prolong'd  but  to  detect  her  treafon, 
Then  in  laort  figh»  forfook  hi?  broken  frame. 


THp    .vORKS   OF  JOHNSON. 


Mabow'. 

Dscfeed  to  perifli  in  I--'s's  chamber ! 
There  had  (lie  l'~"  d  me  w'*^  endearing  falfehoods, 
Clafp'd  in  •>••-" r  arms,  or  flumb'ring  on  her  breaft, 
And  l<ur'd  my  bofom  to  the  ruffian's  dagger. 

SCENE  XII. 

HASAN,  CARA2A,  MAHOMET,  MUSTAPHA,  MOR- 
ZA,  ABDALLA. 

Murta. 

Torgive,  great  fultan  !  that  by  fate  prevented, 
1  bring  a  tardy  meffage  from  Irene. 

Mahomet. 

Some  artful  wile  of  counterfeited  love  ! 
Some  foft  decoy  to  lure  me  to  deftrucftion ! 
And  thou,  the  curs' d  accomplice  of  her  treafon, 
Declare  thy  meflage,  and  expect  thy  doom. 

Murxa. 

The  queen  requefted  that  a  chofen  troop 
Might  intercept  the  traitor  Greek,  Demetrius, 
Then  ling'ring  with  his  captive  miftrels  here. 

Mujlapba. 

The  Greek,  Demetrius !  whom  th*  expiring  Bafla 
Declar'd  the  chief  affociate  of  his  guilt. 

Mahomet. 

A  chofen  traop— to  intercept— Demetrius— 
The  queen  requefted. — Wretch,  repeat  the  mef- 

fage ; 

And  if  one  varied  accent  prove  thy  falfehood, 
Or  but  one  moment's  paufe  betray  confufion, 
Thofe  trembling  limbs — Speak  out,  thou  fliiv'ring 
traitor. 

Murta. 
The  queen  requefted — 

Mabtmtt. 

Who  ?  the  dead  Irene  ? 

Was  flie  then  guiltlefs !  Has  my  thoughtlefs  rage 
Deftroy'd  the  fairefl  workmanfliip  of  Hciv'n  ! 
Doom'd  her  to  death  unpity'd  and  unheard, 
Arnidft  her  kind  folicitudes  for  me ! 
Ye  flaves  of  cruelty,  ye  tools  of  rage, 

[To  Hafan  and  Caraza. 

Ye  blind  officious  minifters  of  folly,  [der  ? 

Could  not  her  charms  reprefs  your  zeal  for  mur- 
Could  not  her  prayers,  her  innocence,  her  tears, 
Sufpend  the  dreadful  fentence  for  an  hour  ? 
One  hour  had  freed  me  from  the  fatal  error, 
Ons  hour  had  fav'd  me  fromdefpair  and  madnefs. 

Carata. 
Your  fierce  impatience  forc'd  us  from  your  pre- 

fence, 

Urg'd  us  to  fpeed,  and  bade  us  banifh  pity, 
Nor  truft  our  paffions  with  her  fatal  charms. 

Mahomet. 

What  hadft  thou  loft  by  flighting  thofe  commands  ? 
Thy. life  perhaps — Were  but  Irene  fpar'd, 
Wei!  if  a  thoufand  lives  like  thine  had  perifh'd  ; 
Such  beauty,  fweetnefs,  love,  were  cheaply  bought, 
With  half  the  grov'ling-  flaves  that  load  the  globe. 

Mujlapba. 

Great  is  thy  woe  !  but  think,  illuftrious  fultan, 
Such  ills  are  fent  for  fouls  like  thine  to  conquer. 
Shake  off  this  weight  of  unavailing  grief, 
R.ufn  to  the  war,  difplay  thy  dreadful  banners, 
And  lead  thy  troops  victorious  round  the  world. 

Matomet.  [umph, 

Rcbb'd  of  the  maid  with  whom  I  wifli'd  to  tri- 


No  more  I  burn  for  fame,  or  for  dominion } 
Succefs  and  conqueft  now  are  empty  founds, 
Remorfe  and  anguifli  feize  on  all  my  breaft ; 
Thofe  groves,  whofe  fhades  embower'd  the  dear 

Irene, 

Heard  her  laft  cries,  and  fann'd  her  dying  beauties, 
Shall  hide  me  from  the  taftelefs  world  for  ever. 

[Mahomet  goes  back  and  returns. 
Yet,  ere  I  quit  the  fceptre  of  dominion, 
Let  one  juft  a&  conclude  the  hatefuj  day. 
Hew  down,  ye  guards,  thofe  vaffals  of  diftradlion, 
[Pointing  to  Hafan  and  Caraza. 
Thofe  hounds  of  blood,  that  catch  the  hint  to  kill; 
Bear  off  with  eager  hafte  th'unfinifli'd  fentence, 
And  fpeed  the  ftroke,  left  mercy  fliould  o'ertake 
them. 

Caraza. 
Then  hear,  great  Mahomet,  the  yoice  of  truth : 

Mahomet. 
Hear !  fliall  I  hear  thee  !  didft  thou  hear  Irene  ? 

Car  ana. 
Hear  but  a  moment. 

Mahomet. 

Hadft  thou  heard  a  moment, 
Thou  might'ft  have  liv'd,  for  thou  hadft  fpar'd 
Irene. 

Caraza, 
I  heard  her,  pitied  her,  and  wifli'd  to  fave  her. 

Mabomet. 
And  wifli'd— Be  ftill  thy  fate  to  wifh  in  vain. 

Caraxa. 

I  heard,  and  foften'd,  till  Abdalla  brought 
Her  final  doom,  and  hurried  her  deftrwftion. 

Mabomtt. 

Abdalla  brought  her  doom !  Abdalla  brought  it  f 
The  wretch,  whofe  guilt  declar'd  by  tortur'd  Cali, 
My  rage  and  grief  had  hid  from  my  remembrance  j 
Abdalla  brought  her  doom  ! 
Hafan. 

Abdaila  brought  it, 
While  yetflie  begg'd  to  plead  her  caufe  before  thee. 
Mabdtnct. 

0  feize  me,  madnefs — Did  flie  call  on  me  ! 

1  feel,  I  fee  the  ruffian's  barb'rous  rage. 
He  feiz'd  her  melting  in  the  fond  appeal, 

And  ftopp'd  the  heav'nly  voice  that  call'd  on  me. 
My  fpirits  fail,  a  while  fupport  me,  vengeance- 
Be  juft,  ye  flaves,  and,  to  be  juft,  be  cruel, 
Contrive  new  racks,  imbitter  every  pang, 
Inflidt  whatever  treafon  can  deferve, 
Which  murder'd  innocence  that  call'd  on  me, 

[Exit  Mahomet. 
[Abdalla  is  dragged  of. 

SCENE  XIII. 

MAHOMET,  HASAN,  CARAZA,  MUSTAPHA,  MBR- 
ZA. 

Mujlapba  to  Mursa. 

What  plagues,  what  tortures  are  in  ftore  for  thee, 
Thou  iluggifh  idler,  dilatory  flave  ? 
Behold  the  model  of  confummate  beauty, 
Torn  from  the  mourning  earth  by  thy  neg!e<Sh 

Mur*.a. 

Such  was  the  will  of  Heav'n — A  band  of  Greeks 
That  mark'd  my  courfe,  fufpicious  of  my  purpofr, 
Rufh'd  out  acd  feiz'd  me,  thoughtlefs  and  unann*4» 
Breathlefs,  amaz'd,  and  on  the  guarded  beach 
Dctain'd  me  till  Demetrius  fct  roe  free. 


IRENE. 


Muflapla. 

So  Cure  the  fall  of  greauiels  rais'd  on  crimes, 
So  fix'd  the  juftice  of  all-confcious  Heav'n. 
When  haughty  guilt  exults  with  impious  joy, 
Miftake  (hall  blaft,  or  accident  deftroy ; 
Weak  man  with  erring  rage  may  throw  the  dart, 
cut  Heav'n  fliall  guide  it  to  the  guilty  heart. 

EPILOGUE. 

MARRY  a  Turk!  a  haughty,  tyrant  king, 
Who  thinks  us  women  born  to  drefs  and  ling, 

To  pleafe  his  fancy fee  no  other  man— — 

Let  him  perfuade  me  to  it        'if  he  can : 
Befides,  he  has  fifty  wives ;  and  who  can  bear 
To  have  the  fiftieth  part  her  paltry  {hare  ? 

*Tis  true,  the  fellow's  handfome,  ftrait,  and  tall ; 
But  how  the  devil  fhould  he  pleafe  us  all ! 


My  fwain  is  little true        but  be  it  known, 

My  pride's  to  have  that  little  all  my  own. 
Men  will  be  ever  to  their  error's  blind, 
Where  woman's  not  allow'd  to  fpeak  her  mind  ; 
I  fwcar  this  eaftern  pageantry  is  nonfenfe, 
And  for  one  man— one  wife's  enough  in  confcience. 
In  vain  proud  man  ufurps  what's  woman's  due  ; 
For  us  alone,  they  honour's  paths  purfue  : 
Infpir'd  by  us,  they  glory's  heights  afcend ; 
Woman  thefource,  the  obje6t,  and  the  end. 
Though  wealth,  and  pow'r,  and  glory  they  receive, 
Thefe  all  are  trifles,  to  what  we  can  give. 
For  us  the  itatefman  labours,  hero  fights, 
Bears  toilfome days,  and  wakes  lonsj  tedious  nights: 
And  when  bleft  peace  has  filenc'd  war's  alarms,, 
Receives  his  full  reward  in  beauty 'sartns. 


P  O  E  M  A  T  A. 


[JAN.  so,  21,  1773-] 

VlTX.  qui  varias  vices 
Reruiti  perpctuus  temperat  Arbiter, 

LiC'  o  cedere  lumini 
Noctis  triftitiam  qui  gelidse  jubet, 

Acri  fanguine  turgidos, 
Obduclofque  oculos  nubibus  humidis 

Sanari  voluit  meos. 
Et  me,  cuncta  beans  cui  nocuit  dies, 

Luci  reddidit  et  mihi. 
Qua  tc  laude,  Deus  qua  prece  profequar? 

Sacri  difcipulus  libri 
Te  femper  ftudiis  utilibus  colam: 

Grates,  fumme  Pater,  tuis 
Recle  qui  fruitur  muneribus,  dedit. 

[DKC.  25,  1779.3 

NONC  dies  Chrifto  memoranda  nato 
Fulfil,  in  pedlus  mihi  fonte  purum 
Gaudium  facro  fluat.  et  benigni 
Gratia  Cceli! 

Chrifte  da  tutam  trepido  quietam, 
Chrifte.  fpem  prasfta  ftabil?m  timenti; 
Da  fidem  certam,  precibufque  fidis 
Annue,  Chrifte. 

[IN  LECTO,  DIE  PASSIONIS.    APR.   13,  1781.] 

SUMME  Deus,    qui    femper    amas    quodcunque 
creafti ; 

Judice  quo,  fcelerum  eft  psenituifle  falus : 
Da  veteres  noxas  aniiro  fie  flere  novato, 

Per  Chriftum  ut  vcniam  fit  reperire  mihi. 

[IN  LECTO.    DEC.  25,  1782.] 
SPE  non  inani  confugis, 
Peccator,  ad  latus  meum  ; 


Quod  pofcis,  haud  unquam  tibi 

Negabitur  folatium. 

[NOCTE,  INTER  16  ET  17  JUNII,  1783  *.] 

SUMME  Pater,   quodcunque  tuum  f  de  corporc 
}  Numen 

Hoc  ||  ftatoat,  $  precibus  Chriftus  adefTe  velit : 
Ingenio  parcas,  nee  fit  mihi  culpa  ^[  rogaffe, 

Qua  folum  potero  parte,  **  placere  tibi. 

[CAL.  JAN.  IN  LECTO,  AKTE  LUCEM.      1784.] 

SUMME  dator  vitse,  naturae  aeterne  magifter, 
Caufarum  feries  quo  moderante  fluit, 

Refpice  quern  fubigit  fenium,  morbiquc  feniles, 
Quern  ferret  vitse  meta  propinqua  iuse. 

Relpice  inutiliter  lapfi  quern  poenitet  aevi; 
Recle  ut  pccniteat,  refpice,  magtie  parcns. 

PATER  benigne,  fumma  femper  lenitas, 
Criniine  gravatam  plurimo  mentem  leva : 
Concede  veram  poenitentiam,  precor, 
Concede  agendam  legibus  vitam  tuis. 
Sacri  vagantes  luminis  greiTus  face 
Rege,  et  lucre,  quae  nocent  pellens  procul ; 

*  The  nigbt  above  referred  to  by  John/on  <was 
that  in  which  a  paralytic  fir  oka  bad  deprived 
him  of  his  voice,  and,  in  the  anxiety  he  felt  lejl  it 
Jhould  likewife  have  impaired  his  uttdcrftanding, 
he  cornpofed  the  above  lines,  andfaid  concerning 
them,  that  he  knew  at  the  time  that  they  ivtre 
not  good,  but  then  he  deemed  his  difcerning  this,  to 
be  fufficient  jor  the  quieting  the  anxiety  before 
mentioned,  at  it  flowed  him  that  bis  power  of 
judging  was  not  diminijLc.t, 

f  Al  tux.         \  Al.  leges.         \  Al.  ftaruant- 
\  Al.  -vet is.       Tf  Al.-frecarL    '*  Al,  litare* 


878  THE   WORKS 

Veniam  petenti,  fumme  da  veniam,  pater  ; 
Venijeque  fandla  pacis  adde  gaudia  : 
Sceleris  ut  expers  ornni,  et  vacuus  metn, 
Te,  mente  pura,  mente  tranquilla"  colam  : 
Mihi  dona  morte  hasc  impetret  Chriftus  i'ua. 

[JAN.  18,  1784.] 

SCMME  Pater,  puro  colluftra  lumine  peclus, 

Anxietas  noceat  ne  tenebrofa  mihi. 
In  me  fparfa  manu  virtutum  femina  larga 

Sic  ale,  proveniat  meffis  ut  ampla  boni. 
Nodles  atque  dies  animo  fpes  Iseta  recurfet, 

Certamihi  fancto  fiagret  araore  fides. 
Certa  vetet  dubitare  fides,  fpes  laeta  tiniere, 

Velle  vetet  cuiquam  now  bene  fandlus  amor. 
Da,  ne  fint  permifi'a,  pater,  mihi  praemia  fruftra, 

Et  colere,  et  leges  femper  amare  tuas. 
Hzc  mihi,  quo  gentes,  quo  fecula,  Chrifte,  piafti, 

Sanguine,  precanti  promereare  tuo  i 

[FEB.  27,  1784,] 

MENS  mea  quid  quereris?"  veniet  tibi  mollior 
hora, 

In  fummo  ut  videas  numine  lasta  patrern  ; 
Divinam  in  fontes  iram  placavit  JefUs  ; 

Nunc  eft  pro  poena  pcenituifie  reis. 

CHRISTIANUS  PERFECTUS. 

Qui  cupit  in  fandlos  Chrifto  cogente  referri, 
Abftergat  mundi  labem,  nee  gaudia  carnis 
Captans,  nee  faftu  tumidus,  feinperque  futuro 
Inftet,  et  evellens  terroris  fpicula  corde, 
Sufpiciat  tandem  clementem  in  numine  patrem. 

Huic  quoque,  nee  genti  nee  fedlx  noxius  ulli, 
Sit  facer  orbis  amor,  miferis  qai  femper  adefle 
Geftiat,  et,  nullo  pietatis  limite  claufus, 
Cundlorum  ignofcat  vitiis,  pietate  fruatur. 
Ardeat  huic  toto  facer  ignis  pediore,  poffit 
Ut  vitam,  pofcat  fi  res,  impendere  vero. 

Cura  placere  Deo  fit  prima,  fit  ultima,  fanctae 
Irruptum  vitas  eupiat  fervare  tenorern  ; 
Et  fibi,  delirans  quanquam  et  peccator  in  horas 
Dffpiiceat,  fervet  tutum  fub  pe&ore  rectum  : 
Nee  natet,  et  nunc  has  partes,  nunc  eligat  illas, 
Nee  dubitet  quem  dicat  herum,  fed,  totus  in  uno, 
Se  fidum  addicat  Chrifto,  mortalia  temnens. 

Sed    tirceat    femper,    cavcatque   ante   omnia 

tiirbae 

Ne  ftolidse  fimilis,  leges,  fibi  fegreget  audax 
Quas  fervare  velit,  leges  quas  lentusomittat, 
Plenum  opus  effugiens,  aptans  juga  mollia  collo 
Sponte  fua  demens  ;  nihilum  decedere  fummae 
Vult  Deus,  at,  qui  cuncla  dedit  tibi,  cua&a  re- 
pofcit. 

Denique  perpetuo  contendit  in  ardua  nlfu, 
Auxilioque  Dei  fretus,  jam  mente  ferena 
Pergit,  et  imperiis  fentit  fe  dulcibus  aflum. 
Paulatim  mores,  animum,  vitamque  refingit, 
Effigiemque  Dei,  quantum  fervare  licebit, 
Induit,  et,  terris  major,  coeleftia  fpirat, 


rerum  conditor, 
Salutis  £etei  tire  dator  ; 
Felicitatis  fedibus 
Qui  nee  fceleftos  exigis, 


OF   JOHNSON. 

Quofcumque  fcelerum  poenitet : 
Da,  Chrifte,  pcenitentiam, 
Veniamque,  Chrifte,  da  mihi ; 
^Egrum  trahenti  fpiritum 
Succurre  praefens  corpori, 
Multo  gravatum  crimine 
Mentem  benignus  alleva. 

LUCE  colluftret  mihi  peclus  alma, 
Pellat  et  triftes  animi  tenebras, 
Nee  final  femper  tremere  ac  dolore, 

Gratia  Chrifti : 

Me  pater  tandem  reducem  benigno 
Summus  amplexu  foveat,  beato 
Me  gregi  fanctus  focium  beatum 

Spiritus  addat. 

JEJUNIUM  ET  CIBUS. 

SERVIAT  ut  menti  corpus  jejunia  ferva, 
Ut  meps  utatur  corpore,  fume  cibos. 

URBANE,  nullis  fefle  laboribus, 
Urbane,  nullis  vidle  columniis, 
Cui  fronte  fertum  in  erudita 
Perpetuo  viret,  et  virebit ; 

Quid  moliatur  gens  imitantium, 
Quid  et  minetur,  follicitus  parum, 
Vacare  folis  perge  Mufis, 

Juxta  animo  ftudiifque  faelix. 

Linguae  procacis  plumbea  fpicula, 
Fidens;  fuperbo  frange  filentio  ; 
Viclirix  per  obftantes  catervas 
Sedulitas  animofa  tendet. 

Intende  nervos  fortis,  inanibus 
Rifurus  olim  nifibus  emuli ; 
Intende  jam  nervos,  habebis 
Participes  opera  camoenas. 

Non  ulla  Mufis  pagina  gratior, 
Qnam  quse  feveris  ludicra  jungere 
Novit,  fatigatamque  nugis 
Ut,ilibus  recreare  mentem. 

Texente  nymphis  ferta  Lycoride, 
Rofx  ruborem  fie  viola  adjuvat 
Inimifta,  fie  Iris  refulget 
^thereis  variata  fucis. 

IN  RIVUM  A  MOLA.  STOANA  LICH. 
FELDI^E  DIFFLUENTEM. 

ERR  AT  adhuc  vitreus  per  prata  virentia  rivus, 

Quo  toties  lavi  membra  tenella  puer ; 
Hie  delufa  rudi  fruftrabar  brachia  motu, 

Dum  docuit  blanda  voce  natare  pater. 
Fecerunt  rami  latebras,  tenebrifque  diurnis 

Pendula  fecretas  abdidit  arbor  aquas. 
Nunc  veteres  duris  periere  fecuribus  umbrae, 

Longinquifque  oculis  nuda  lavacra  patent. 
Lympha  tamen  curfus  agit  indefefla  perennis, 

Teclaque  qua  fluxit,  nunc  et  aperta  fluit. 
Quid  ferat  externi  velox,  quid  deterat  setas, 

Tu  quoque  Tecurus  res  »ge,  Nife,  tuas, 


P  0  E  M  A  T  A. 


T  N  n  0  I     2EATTON. 
[Poft  Lexicon  Anglicanum  aufitim  et  emendattim.~\ 

LEXICON  ad  finem  longo  luctamine  tandem 
Scaliger  ut  duxit,  tenuis  pertaefus  opellas, 
Vile  indignatus  ftudiam,  nugafq'ie  moleftas, 
Ingemit  exofus,  fcribendaque  lexica  mandat 
Damnatis,  poenam  pro  pcenis  omnibus  unam. 
Ille  quidem  recle,  fublimis,  docluset  acer, 
Quern  decuit  majora  fequi,  majoribus  aptum, 
Qui  vcterum  modo  facia  ducum,  modo  carmina 

vatum, 

Gefferat  et  qaicquid  virtus,  fapientia  quicquid, 
Dixerat,  imperiique  vices,  coelique  mfatus, 
Ingentemque  animo  feclorum  volveret  orbem. 
Fallimur   exemplis ;   temeie   fibi  turba   fcho- 

larum 

Ima  ttias  credit  permitti  Scaliger  iras. 
Quifque  fuum   norit  modulum  j   tibi,  prime  vi- 

rorum 

Ut  ftudiisfperem,  aut  aufim  par  efle  querelis, 
Non  mihi  forte  datum ;  lenti  feu  fanguinis  obfint 
Frigora,  feu  nimium  longo  jacuifie  veterno, 
Sive  mihi  mentem  dederit  natura  minorem. 

Te  fterili  fnnclum  cura,  vocumque  falebris 
Tuto  eluclatum  fpatiis  fapientia  dia 
Excipit  aethereis,  ars  omnis  plaudit  amico, 
Linguarumque  omni  terra  difcordia  concors 
Multiplici  reducem  circum  fonatore  magiftrum. 
Me,   penfi  immunis  cum  jam  mihi  redder,  in- 

ertis 

Defidix  fors  dura  manet,  graviorqne  labore 
Triftis  et  atra  quies,  et  tardae  tsedia  vitse. 
Nafcuntur  curis  curse,  vexatque  dolorum 
Importuna  cohors,  vacuae  mala  fomnia  mentis. 
Nunc  clamofa  juvant  noc"lurnae  gauclia  menfae, 
Nunc  loca  fola  placent ;  fruitra  te,  Somne,  recum- 

bens 

Alme  voco,  impatiens  noclis  metuenfque  diei 
Omnia  percurro  trepidus,  circum  omnia  luftro, 
Si  qua  ufquam  pateat  melioris  femita  vit«, 
Nee  quid  again  invenio,  meditatus  grandia,  cogor 
Notior  ipfe  mihi  fieri,  incultumque  fateri 
Pectus,  et  ingenium  vano  fe  robore  jaftans. 
Ingenium  nifi  materiem  doctrina  miniftrat, 
Ceflat  inops  rerum,  ut  torpet,  fi  marmoris  abfit 
Copia,  Phidiaci  fascunda  potentia  cceli. 
Quicquid    agam,    quocunque     ferar,     conatibus 

obftat 
Res  angufta  domi,  et  macne  penuria  mentis. 

Non  rationis  opes  animus,  nunc  parta  recenfens 
Confpicit  aggeftas,  et  fe  miratur  in  illis, 
Nee  fibi  de  gaza  prasfens  qilod  poftulat  ufus 
Summus  adefle  jubet  celfa  dominator  ab  arce; 
Non,  operum  ferie  feriem  dum  computat  jevi, 
Praeteritis  fruitur,  laetos  aut  fumit  honores 
Ipfe  fui  judex,  acla:  bene  munera  vitas ; 
Sed  fua  regna  videns,  loca  node  filentia  late 
Horret,  ubi  vanz  fpecies,  umbrjeque  fugaces, 
Et  rerum  volitant  rar.x  per  inane  figure. 

Quid  faciara  ?  tenebrifne  pigram  damnare  fe  . 

nedlam 

Reftat  ?  an  accingar  ftudtis  gravioribus  audax  ? 
Aut,  hoc  fi  nimium  eft,  tandem  nova  lexica  pof- 
cam? 


AD  THOMAM  LAURENCE, 

MEDICUM  DOCTISSIMUM. 

Cumfilium  pcregre  agentem  defiderio  nimii  trfjtj 
profequeretur. 

FATES  is  ergo,  quod  populus  folet 

Crepare  vaecors,  nil  fapientiam 
Prodeffe  vitae,  literafque ; 
In  dubiis  dare  terga  rebus 

Tu,  qiteis  laborat  fors  hominum,  mala, 
Nee  vincis  acer,  nee  pateris  plus, 
Te  mille  fuccorum  potentem 
Deltituit  medicina  mentis. 

Per  cxca  nodli«  tzdia  turbidje, 
Pigrae  per  horas  lucis  inutiles. 
Torpefque,  languefcifque,  curis 
Solicitus  nimis  heu  !  paternis. 

Tandem  dolori  plus  fatis  eft  datum, 
Exurge  fortis,  nunc  animis  opus, 
Te,  docta,  Laurenti ;  vetuftas, 
Te  medici  revocant  labores. 

Permitte  fummo  qnicquid  habes  patri, 
Permitte  fidens,  et  muliebribus, 
Amice,  majorem  quetelis 

Redde  tuis,  tibi  redde,  mentem. 

IN  THEATRO,  MARCH  8,  1771. 

TERTII  verfo  quater  orbe  luftri, 
Quid  theatrales  tibi,  Crifpe,  pompx? 
Qu_am  decet  canos  male  literates 

Sera  voluptasl 

Tene  mulceri  fidibus  canoris  ? 
Tene  cantorum  modulis  ftupere  ? 
Tene  per  piclas  oculo  elegante 

Currereformas? 

Inter  sequales,  fine  felle  liber, 
Codices,  veri  ftudiofus,  inter 
Reftius  vives.    Sua  quifque  carpat 
Gaudia  gratus. 

Laufibus  gaudet  puer  otiofis, 
Luxus  oble«ftat  juvenem  theatri, 
At  feni  fiuxo  fapienter  uti 

Tempore  reftat. 

INSULA  KENNETHI,  INTER  HEBRIDAS. 

PARVA  quidem  regio,  fed  religione  priorum 

Clara  Caledonias  panditur  inter  aquas. 
Voce  ubi  Cennethus  populos  domuifTe  feroces 

Dicitur,  et  vanosdedocuifle  deos. 
Hue  ego  delatus  placido  per  caerula  curfu, 

Scire  locus  velui  quid  daret  ifte  novi. 
Illic  Leniades  humili  regnabat  in  aula, 

Leniades,  magnis  nobilitatus  avis. 
Una  duas  cepit  cafa  cum  genitore  puellas, 

Quas  Amor  undarum  crederet  efle  deas. 
Nee  tamen  inculti  gelidis  latuere  fub  antris, 

Accola  Dauubii  qualia  faevus  habet. 
Mollia  non  defunt  vacuae  folatia  vitx 

Sive  libros,  pofcant  otia,  five  Ijram. 


THE  WORKS   OF  JOHNSON. 


Fulferat  ilia  die«,  legis  qua  dodla  fupernae 

Spes  hominum  et  curas  gens  procul  effe  jubet. 
Ut  precibus  juftas  avertat  nurninis  iras 

Et  fummi  accendat  pecTrus  amore  boni. 
Ponti  inter  ftrepitus  non  facri  munera  cultus 

Ceflarunt,  pietas  hie  quoque  cura  fuit. 
Nil  opus  eft  stris  facra  de  turre  fonantis 

Admonitu,  ipfa  fuas  nunciat  hora  vices. 
Quid,  quod  facrifici  verfavit  foemina  libros! 

Sint  pro  legitirois  pura  labella  facris. 
*Quo  vagor  ulterius  ?  quod  ubique  requiritur  hie 
eft, 

Hie  fecura  quies,  hie  et  honeftus  amor. 

SKIA. 

PONTI  profundis  claufa  receffibus, 
Strepens  procellis,  rupibus  obfita, 
Quam  grata  defeflb  virentem, 
Skia,  finum  nebulofa  pandis  ! 

His,  cura,  credo,  fedibus  exulat ; 
His  blanda  certe  pax  habitat  locis  j    / 
Non  ira,  non  mceror  quietis 
Infidias  raeditatur  horis. 

At  non  cavata  rape  latefcere, 
Menti  nee  segrz  montibus  aviis 
Prodeft  vagari,  nee  frementes 
In  fpecula  numerare  fluctus. 

ITumaua  virtus  non  fibi  fufficit ; 
Dator  nee  requum  cuique  animutn  fibi 
Parare  pofle,  utcunque  jaclet 
Grandiloquus  nimis  alta  Zeno. 

Exaeftuantis  pecloris  impetum 
Rex  fumme,  folus  tu  regis,  arbiter; 
Mentifque,  te  tollente,  flu<flus  ; 
Te,  refident,  moderante  fluctus. 

ODE,  DE  SKIA  INSULA. 

PERMEO  terras  ubi  nuda  rupes 
Saxeas  mifcet  nebulis  ruinas, 
Torva  ubi  rident  fteriles  coloni 

Rura  labores. 

Pervagor  gentes  hominuna  ferorum, 
Vita  ubi  nullo  decorata  cultu 
Squallet  informis,  tigurique  fumis 

Fseda  latefcit. 

Inter  erroris  falebrofa  longi, 
Inter  ignotse  ftrepitus  loquelae, 
Quot  modis,  mecum,  quid  agat,  requiro, 
Thralia  dulcis  ? 

Sen  viri  curas,  pia  nupta  mulcet, 
Seu  fovet  mater  fobolem  benigna, 
Sive  cum  libris  novitate  pafcit 

Sedula  mentem. 

Sit  memer  noftri,  fideique  folvat 
Fida  mercedem,  meritoque  blandutn 
Thralise  difcant  refonare  nomen 

Littora  Skise. 


SPES. 

Apr.  1  6,  1783. 

HORA  fie  peragit  citata  curium; 
Sic  diem  feqmtur  dies  fugacem  ! 
Spes  novas  nova  lux  parit,  fecunda 
Spondep.s  omma  credulis  homullis; 
Spes  ludit  ftolidas,  metuque  caeco 
Lux  angit,  miteros  luden>  homu;los. 

VERSUS,  COLLARI  CAPR^E  DOMINI 
BANKS. 

INSCRIBENDI. 

PZRPXTUI,  ambitia  bis  terra  prema  laAis 
Hsec  habet,  altrici  capra  fecunda  Jovis. 

Ad  Fceminam  quandam  Generofam  qvx  Libertatit 
Cavfte  in  Sermonc  patrocinala  fuerat* 

LIBER  ut  efle  velim,  fuafiiti,  puichra  Maria: 
Ut  maneam  liber,  puichra  Maria,  vale. 

JACTURA  TEMPORIS. 

HORA  perit  furtim  laetis,  mem  temporis  argra 
Pigritiam  incufat,  nee  minus  hora  perit. 

QUAS  navis  recipit,  quantum  fit  pondus  aquarum, 
Dunidiuci  tanti  ponderis  intret  onus. 

QUOT  vox  mifla  pedes  abit  horz  parte  fecunda  ? 
Undecies  centum  denos  quater  adde  duofque. 

En     B  I  P  X  I  O  N   *. 


'Hpviuv  rt  ftivs  &ip%itv,  «Si  fo^ai, 
Kat  €io».  Am,  araa  pi^tis  ta.va.raui 


Tti  x«XXv;  ~6tnAit.it  ri  riXot  ;    Zivs  <r«»r«  ItS 
Kuf^iSt,  jiiiy  avrS  rxnvrpa  fiiu.'nl.i  ®ty. 
En'  Aioj  »«•/»  *Ovup,  SiSt  for  lyt>a-fy 


fMui»i 


yofaivri  vo>.Uf 

otjUirpa  Aios  K.v*ptc  itfa.  <fifU. 

IN  ELIZJE  ENIGMA. 


Quis  formx  modus  imperio  ?  Venus  arrogat  audar 
Omnia,  nee  curse  i'unt  fua  fceptra  Jovi. 

Ab  Jove  Meenides  defcendere  fomnia  narrat; 
Hasc  veniunt  Cypriae  fomnia  mifla  Deae. 

Jupiter  uuuserat,  qui  ftravit  fulmine  gentes; 
Nunc  armant  Venevis  lumina  tela  Jovis.  , 

*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  Bird,  author  of  the 
Hiftory  of  the  Royal  Society  ',  and  other  works  of 
note. 

f  The  Lady  on  wlom  thefeverfes,  and  the  Latin 
ones  'which  immediately  follow,  'were  written,  is 
the  celebrated  Mrs.  E^i^dbetb  Carter,  tvbo  tranf- 
lated  the  works  of  E.j>i£i.'tusfrom  the  Greek. 


P  0  E  M  A  T  A. 


8Jz 


MESSIA. 


1  Ex  alieno  ingenio  poeta,  ex  fuo  tantum  verfi- 
-*'  ficator."  Scalig.  Poet. 

TOLLITE  concentum,  Solymseae  tollite  nymphae  ! 
Nil  mortale  loquor ;  ccelum  mihi  carminis  aha 
'  Materies  ;  pofcunt  gravius  cceleftia  plectrum. 
.Mufcofi  fontes,  fylveftria  tedta  valete, 
Aonidefque  Deae,  et  raendacis  fomnia  Pindi : 
Tu,  mihi,  qui  flamma  moviili  pe<5lora  fan&i 
Siderea  Ifaiae,  dignos  accende  furores  ! 

Immatura  calens  rapitur  per  fecula  vates 
Sic  orfus— Qualis  rerum.mihi  nafcitur  ordo  ! 
Virgo  I  virgo  parit  !  felix  radicibus  arbor 
Jeflaeis  furgit,  mulcentefque  aethera  floies 
Cceleftes  lambunt  animae,  ramifque  columba, 
Nuncia  facra  Dei,  plaudentibus  infidet  alis. 
Nectareos  rores,  alimentaque  mitia  coelum 
Przbeat,  et  tacite  fascundos  irriget  imbres. 
Hue,  foedat  quos  lepra,  urit  quos  febris,  adefte, 
Dia  falutares  fpirant  medicamina  rami ; 
Hie  requies  fefiis  ;  non  facra  faevit  in  umbra 
Vis  Boreae  gelida,  aut  rapidi  violeiitia  lolis. 
Irrita  vanefcent  prifca  veftigia  fraudis 
Juftitiaeque  manus  pretio  intcmerata  bilancem 
Attollet  reducis  ;  bellii  praetendet  olivas 
Compofitis  pax  alma  fuas,  terrafque  revifens 
Sedatas  niveo  virtus  lucebit  amidlu : 
Volvantur  celeres  anni  1  lux  purpuret  orturti 
Expeclata  diu  !  naturae  claultra  refringens, 
Nafcere,  magne  puer  !  tibi  primas,  ecce,  corollas 
Deproperat  tellus,  fundit  tibi  munera,  quicquid 
Carpit  Arabs,  hortis  quicquid  frondefcit  Eois. 
JUtius,  en  !  Lebanon  gaudentia  culmina  toilit, 
En  !  fummo  exultant  nutantes  vertice  fylvae. 
Mittit  aromaticasvallis  Saronica  nubes, 
Et  juga  Carmeli  recreant  fragrantia  coeium. 
Deferti  Iseta  !  mollefcunt  afpera  voce 
Auditur  Deus!  ecce  Deus  '.  reboantia  circum 
Saxa  fonant,  Deus ;  ecce  Deus!  defleclitur  aether, 
Demifiumque  Deum  tellus  capit ;  ardua  cedrus, 
Gloria  fylvarum,  dominum  inclinata  falutet. 
Surgite  convalles,  ttimidi  fubfidite  montes  1 
Sternite  faxa  viam,  rapidi  difcedite  fluctus : 
En  !  quern  turba  diu  eccinerunt  enthea,  vates 
En  !  falvator  adeft  ;  vultus  agnofcite  caeci 
Bivinos,  furdos  facra  vox  permulceat  aures. 
llle  cuti'm  fpiflam  vifus  hebetare  vetabit, 
Reclufifque  oculis  infundet  amabile  lumen  ; 
Obftrictafque  diu  linguas  in  carmina  folvet 
Ille  vias  vocispandet,  flexufque  liquentis 
Harmoniae  purgata  novos  mirabitur  auris. 
Accrefcunt  teneris  tadtu  nova  robora  nervis: 
Confuetus  fulcro  innixus  reptare  bacilii 
Nunc  faltu  capreas,  nunc  curfu  provocat  euros. 
Non  plandlus,  non  moeila  fonant  fufpiria  ;  pedlus 
Siugultans  mulcet,  lachrymantes  tergit  ocellus. 
Vinclacoercebunt  luilantemadainautina  mortem, 
./Eternoque  Orcidominator  vulnere  languens 
Invslidi  raptos  fceptri  plorabit  honores. 
Ut  qua  dulcc  ftrepent  fcatebrae,  qua  lata  virefcunt 
Pafcua,  qua  blandum  fpirat  puriifimus  aer, 
Paftor  agit  pecudes,  teneros  modo  fufcipit  agnos 
Etgremio  fotis  ieledlas  porrigit  herbas, 
Amiffas  modo  quaerit  oves,  revocatque  vagantes ; 
Fidus  adeft  cuftos,  feu  iiox  furat  honida  maabis, 

VOL.  XJ. 


Sive  dies  medius  moritntiatorreat  arva. 
Poftera  fie  paftor  divinus  fecla  beabit, 
Et  curas  felix  patrias  teftabitur  orbis. 
Non  ultra  infeftis  concurrent  agmina  fignis, 
Hoftiles  oculis  flammas  jaculantia  torvis; 
Non  litui  accendent  bellum,  non  campus  ahenis 
Trifte  corufcabit  radiis ;  dabit  hafta  recufa 
Vomerem,  et  in  falcem  rigidus  curvabitur  enfis. 
Atria,  pacis  opus,  furgent,  ftnemque  caduci 
Natus  ad  optatum  perducet  czpta  parentis. 
Qui  duxit  fulcos,  illi  teret  area  meffem, 
Si  ferae  texent  vites  umbracula  preli. 
Acloniti  dumeta  vident  inculta  colon! 
Suave  rnbere  rofis,  litientefque  inter  arenas 
Garrula  mirantur  falientis  murmura  rivi. 
Per  faxa,  ignivomi  nuper  fpelza  dracoius, 
Canna  viret,  juncique  tremit  variabilis  umbra. 
Horruit  implexo  qua  vallis  fente,  figurre 
Surgit  amans  abies  teretis,  buxique  fequaces 
Artificis  frondent  dextrae  ;  palmifque  rube_ta 
Afpera,  odoratas  cedunt  mala  gramina  myrto. 
Per  valles  fociata  lupo  lafciviet  agna, 
Cumpue  leonc  petet  tutus  prjefepe  juvencus. 
Florea  manfuetae  petulantes  vincula  tigri 
Per  ludum  pueri  injicient,  et  felfa  colubri 
Membra  viatoris  recreabunt  frigore  lingua;. 
Serpentes  teneris  nil  jam  lethale  micantes 
Traiflabit  palmis  infans,  raotufque  trifulcas 
Ridebit  linguae  innocuos,  fquamafque  virentes 
Aureajque  admirans  rutilantis  ful^ura  criftce. 
Indue  reginam,  turritas  f-ontis  honores 
Tolle  Salema  iacros,  quam  circum  gloria;  penna* 
Explicat,  iucinc'liim  radiatae  luce  tiarae  ! 
iin  1  formota  tin!  fpatiot'a  per  atria,  proles 
Ordinibus  furgit  denfis,  yitamque  requ;rit 
Impatiens,  ienteque  fluentes  incrfpat  aunos. 
Ecce  peregriiiis  tervent  tu;t  Jim     •-  turbis; 
Barbaras  en  !   cl ^      n  Jivino  iuir.uie  te:ap!i:m 
Ingreditur,  cultuquc  tiio  manfuefcere  gaadet. 
Cinnafneos  cumuios,  Nabathasi  m  :nera  veris^ 
Ecce  cremant  genibus  trita;  reijaliif'.is  arae  ! 
Solis  Ophyrseis  crudum  tibi  monribus  auruui 
Maturunt  radii  ;  tibi  balfa  '        dat  IJume. 
^therii  eu  portas  facro  i'ulgo.x-  .nicantes 
GcEiicoiae  pandunt,  torrentis  aur^a  iucis 
Flumina  provunapunt ;  non  pofthac  Ijlc  rubefcet 
India  nafcenti,  placidxve  argenten  no-tis 
Luna  vices  revehet:  radios  rat-.-r  ip!>  diei 
Proferet  archetypes:  cocleltis  gaudia  Iucis 
Iplb  fonte  bibes,  quse  ciictimfufa  beatam 
Regiam  inundabit,  nui^sccff^ia  tenebris. 
Littora  cleficiens  arentia  ilefcret  asqaor; 
Sidera  fnmabunt.  diro  iabci'acta  tremors 
Saxa  cadeot,  foiidique  liquefcent  robora  mentis: 
Tu  fecura  tamen  confufa  elemcnta  viclebis, 
Lattaque  Media  femper  do-.-:a.iabere  rcge, 
Pollicitis  firmata  Dei,  ilabilna  minis. 

*  O  QUI  benignus  crimina  ignofcis,  pater 
Facililque  femper  confitenti  ades  reo, 

*  This  and  the  three  following  artieles  are 
metrical  -verjions  of  coilefis'ia  the  Liturgy :  the 
i ft,  cf  that,  beginning,  "  0  God  ivhofe  nature  and 
property  f*  the  Zd  and  $d,  of  the  colleSs  for  the, 
i-jtb  and  zift  Sundays  after  -Trinity;  and  the 
$th,  of  the  iffi  fofafl  in  the  communion  ferwe. 
3  ^ 


SS2  THE   WORKS    OF   JOHNSON, 

Aurem  faventem  precihus  O  praibe  meis  ; 


Scelerum  catena  me  labcrantem  grave 

JEterna  tandem  liberct  dementia, 

Ut  fumraa  laus  fit,  fuinma  Chrifto  gloria. 

PER.  vitas  tenebras  rerumq»ie  incerta  vagantem 

Numine  prsefenti  me  tueare  pater  ! 
Me  ducat  lux  fancla,  Deus.  lux  i'ancla  fequatuT  ; 

Ufque  regat  grefTus,  gratia  rida  meos. 
Sic  peragam  tua  juffa  libens,  accinclus  ad  omne 

Mandatum,  vivam  fie  moriaique  tibi. 

ME,  pater  omnipotens,  de  puro  refpice  ccelo, 
Q_uem  mceftum  et  timicium  crimina  gravant ;    , 

Da  veniam  pacemque  mihi,  da,  mente  fe,rena, 
Ut  tibi  quse  placeant,  omnia  promptus  agam, 

Solvi,  quo  Chriftus  cunclis  delicla  redemit, 
Et  pro  me  pretium,  iu  patiare,  pater. 

[DEC.  5,  1754*.! 
SUMME  Deus,  cui  rseca  patent  penetralia  cordis; 

Quern  nulla  anxietas,  nulla  cupido  fugit ; 
Quern  nil  vafrities  peccantnm  fubdola  celat ; 

Omnia  qui  fpcclans,  otnnia  ubique  regis  ; 
Mentibus  afBatu  terrenas  ejice  fordes 

Divino,  fanclus  regnet  ut  intus  amor  : 
Eloquiumque  pqtens  linguis  torpentibus  afTer, 

Ut  tibi  laus  omni  femper  ab  ore  for.et: 
Sanguine  quo  gentes,  quo  fecula  cuncla  piavit, 

Hxc  nobis  Chriilus  promeruifie  velit ! 

FSALMUS  CXVII. 

ANNI  qua  velucris  ducitur  orbita, 
Patrem  coelicolum  perpetuo  colunt 
Quovis  fanguine  cretae 

Gentes  undique  carmine. 
?atnem,  cujus  amor  bjandior  in  dies 
Mortale:  miferos  fervat,  alit,  fovet, 
Omne?  undiqne  gentes, 
Sanclo  dicite  "carmine. 

f  SEU  te  faevat  fitis,  Ijevitas  five  fmproba  fecit, 

Mnfca,  meae  cotr.item,  parti(  ipcmque  dapis, 
Pone  metum,  roftrunr  tiUens  immitte  fculullo, 

Nam  licet,  et  toto  prolue  Ireta  mero. 
Tu,  quamcunque  tibi  velox  i«du!ferit  anrus, 

Carpe  diem,  fugit,  heu,  r.on  revocanda  dies  ! 
Quae  nos  blanda  comes,  qu??.  nos  perdncv.t  eodem, 

Volvitur  hora  raihi,  volvitur  hv.a  tibi ! 
Una  quidem,  fie  fata  volunt,  tibi  vivitur  aeftas, 

Eheu,  quid  decics  plus  mini  fexta  cleclit  ! 
Olim,  prieterita;  nuoieranti  tempora  vitas, 

Sexaginta  ar.nis  non  minor  unus  erit. 

$  HABEO,  dedi  quod  alter! ; 
Habuique,  quod  de'de  mihi ; 
Sed  quod  reiiqui,  perdidi. 


*  The  day  on  "MVich  he  received  thefacrament 
for  the  loft  time  ;  and  eight  days  before  bis  de- 
ceafe. 

f  The  above  is  a  'verjion  of  the  fong,  "  Bujy, 
curious,  tbirfty  fly." 

\  fhefe  lines  are  a  i<erfion  of  three  fentences 
that  are  faid  in  tt:e  tnanufcript  to  be  "  On  the  mo- 


*  E  WALTON!  PISCATORE  PERFECTO 
EXGERPTUM. 

NUNC,  per  gramina  fufi, 
Densa  fronde  falifli, 
Dnm  defenditur  imber, 
Molles  ducimus  horas. 
Hie,  dum  debita  morti 
Paulum  vita  moratur, 
Nunc  refcire  pri«ra, 
Nunc  inftare  futuris, 
Nunc  fummi  prece  fancla 
Patris  numen  adire  eft. 
Qnicquid  quaeritur  ultra, 
Cseco  ducit  amore, 
Vel  fpe  ludit  inani,  • 
Lucius  mox  pariturum. 

•{•  Q_UISQUIS  iter  tendis,  vitreas  qua  lucidus  undas 
Speluncse  late  Thamefis  praetendit  opacas  J 
MarmoreJ  trepidant  quae  lentse  in  forriice  guttaf, 
Cr)ftallifque  latex  fractus  fcintillat  acutis; 
Gemmaque,  Inxuriznondum  famulata  nitenti 
Splendet,  et  incoquitur  tedium  fine  fraude  me- 

tallum ; 

Ingredere  O  '.  rcrum  pura  cole  mente  parentem  ; 
Auriferafque  auri  metuens  fcrutare  cavernas. 
Ingredere  !  Egeriae  facrum  en  tibi  panditur  an- 

trum  ! 

Hie,  in  fe  totum,  longe  per  npaca  futuri 
Tempori«,  Henricum  rapuit  vis  vivida  mentis  : 
Hie  pia  Vindamius  traxit  fufpiria,  in  ip'-a 
Mgrte   naemor   patriae;  hie,   Marmonti  pe<Slore 

prima 

Ccelcftis  fido  caluernnt  feminaflammEe. 
Temnere  opes,  pretium  1'celeris,  patriamque  tueri 
Fortis,  ades  ;  tibi  fponte  patet  venerabile  limen. 

numcnt  ofjobn  of  Doncafter ;"  andiubich  are  as 
follow  : 

"  What  I  gave  that  I  have ; 
"  What  I  ("pent  that  I  had  ; 
"  What  I  left  that  I  loft." 

*  Tbefe  lines  are  a  Trnnflation  of  part  of  a 
Song  in  the  Complete  Angler  of  Ifaac  Walton, 
'written  by  John  Chalkbill,  Ejq.  a  friend-  of 
Sperfer,  and  author  of  a  beautiful  fafloral  hiftory 
called  "  Thealma  and  Clenrchm^  publified  long 
after  his  death,  by  Walton,  "which  is  highly  deferr 
ing  of  republicat  ion. 

"  Or  vve  fometimes*pafs  an  hour 

*'  Under  a  green  willow, 
"  That  defends  us  from  a  mower, 
"  Making  earth  our  pillow  ; 

"  Where  we  may 

"  Think  and  pray, 

"  Before  death 

"  Stops  our  breath  : 

"  Other  joys 

''  Are  but  toys, 
"  And  to  be  lamented." 

\  The  above  lines  are  a  verfion  of  Pope's  verfcs 
nn  his  oivn  grotto,  'which  begin,  "  Thou  'whofaalt 
Jlop  where  "Thames  tranjlucent  wave." 


POEM  AT  A. 


GRJECORUM   EPIGRAMMATUM  VERSI- 
ONES  METRICS. 

Pag.  2.  Brodai  edit.  Eaf.  Ann.  1549. 

NON  Argos  pugilem.  non  me  MefTana  creavit ; 

Patria  Sparta  mihi  efti,  patria  clara  virum. 
Arte  valent  ifti,  mihi  robo  revivere  folo  eft, 

Convenit  ut  natis,  inclyta.  Sparta,  tuis. 

Br.  a. 

QUANDOQUIDEM  paflim  nulla  ratione  feruntur, 
Cuncta  cmis,  cuncia  et  ludicra,  cuncla  nihil. 

Br.  5. 

PECTOREqui  duro,  crudos  de  vite  racemos 

Venturiexfecuit,  vafcula  prima  meri, 
Labraque  conftridtus,  femefos,  jamque  terendos 

Suh  pedibus,  populo  praeterennte,  jacit. 
Supplicium  huic,  quoniam  crefcentia  gaudia  Isefit, 

Det  Bacchus,  dederat  quale,  Lycurge,  tibi. 
Hje  poterant  uvae  lasto  convivia  catitu, 

Mulcere,  aut  peclus  trifle  levare  malis. 

Br  8. 
FERT  humeris  claudum   validis   per  compira 

cxcus, 
Hie  oculosfocio  commodat,  ille  pedes. 

Br.  10. 
Qut,  murare  vias  aufus  terrxque  marifquc, 

Trajecit  monies  nauta,  fretiimque  pedes, 
Xerxi,  tercentum  Spartae  Mars.obftitit  acris 

Mjlitibus ;  terris  fit  peiagoque  pudur  ! 

Br.  ii. 

SIT  tibi,  Galliope,  Parnaffiim,  cura,  tenenti, 
Aiter  ut  adfit  Homerus,  adeftetenim  alter  Achilles. 

Br.  18. 
AD  Mufas  Venus  hasc  ;  Veneri  parete  puellae, 

In  vos  ne  mittus  fpicula  tendat  araof. 
Ilsec  Mufae  ad  Venerum  ;  fie  Marti,  diva,  mineris, 

Hue  nunquam  volitat  debilis  ifte  puer. 

Br.  19. 

PROSPERA  fors  nee  te  ftrepitofo  turbine  tollat, 
Nee  rnenti  injiciat  fordida  cura  jugum  ; 

Nam  vita  incertis  incerta  impellitur  auris, 
Omnefque  in  partes  traifra,  retradta  f3uit; 

Firma  manet  virtus;  virtuti  innitere,  tutus 
Per  fiuclus  vitz^ic  tibi  curfus  erit.          \ 

Br.  24. 
HORA  bonis  quafi  mine  inftet  fuprema  fruaris, 

Piura  ut  vicflurus  fecula,  parce  bonis  : 
Divitiis,  utrinque  cavens,  qui  tempore  parcit, 

Tempore  divitiis  utilur,  ille  fapit. 


Br.  34. 

NUNQUAM  jugera  mefubus  onufta,  aut 
Quos  Gyges  cumulos  habebat  auri } 
Ouod  vita:  fatis  eft,  peto,  Macrine, 
Mi,  nequid  nimis,  eft,  nimis  prubatum. 

Br.  24. 

NON  opto  aut  precibus  pofco  ditefcere,  paucis 
Sit  contents  mihi  vita  dclore  carens. 


Br.  44. 

RECTA  ad  pauperiem  tendit,  cui  corpora  cordi 

eft 
Multa  alere,  et  multas  aedificare  domos. 

Br.  24. 

Tu  neque  dulce  p-.ites  alienae  accumbere  nienlje, 

Nee  probrofa  avidse  grata  lit  offa  gulae  i 
Nee  tidlo  fletu.  fidtisiolvare  cachinnis, 

Arridens  domino,  collachrymafque  tUo. 

Lsetior  baud  tecum,  tecu:n  neque  triftior  un- 
quam, 

Sed  Miliae  ridens,  atque  dolens  Miliae. 

Br  26. 

NIL  non   mortale  eft    murtalibus;  omn-quod 

eft  hi 
Prastereunt,  aut  hos  praeterit  omne  bonum. 

Br.  a6. 
DEMOCKITE,  invifas  homines  majore  cachmno, 

1'ius  tibi  ridendum  fecula  noftra  dabunt. 
Hrrnclite,  fluat  lacryniarum  crebrior  imber  ; 

Vita  hominum  nunc  plus  quod  milereris  habet. 
Intcrea  dubito  ;  tecum  me  canfa  nee  ulla 

Ridere,  aut  tecum  me  lacrimare  jubet. 

Br  al5. 
EtiGE  inter  vitz  ut  poflis  ;  rixifque  dolifque 

Perftrepit  omiie  iV/runi ;  cura  molelta  domi  e(r. 
Rura  labor  laflat ;  mare  mille  pericula  terrent  ; 

Verte  folum,  Sent  caufa  timoris  opes;. 
Paupertas  mifera  eft  ;  mnlras  cum  conjure  lites 

Tedla  ineunt ;  czlebs  omnia  iblus  ages. 
Proles  aucla  gravat,  rapta  orbat,  caeca  juventse 
eft 

Virtus,  canitics  cauta  vigore  caret. 
Ergo  optent  homines,  aut  nunquam  in  luminis  oras 

Veniffe,  aut  visa  luce  repente  mori. 

EL  IGE  ifer  vitac  ut  mavis,  prudentia  laufque 

Penneat  omne  forum  ;  vita  quieta  domi  eft. 
Rus  ornat  natura  :  levat  maris  afpera  Lucrum, 

Verte  folum,  donet  plena  crumena  decus  ; 
Pauperies  iatit.it,  cum  conjuge  gaudia  multa 

Teela  ineunt,  cielebs  impediere  minus  ; 
i<j  iilcet  amor  prolis,  fopor  eft  fine  prole  profundus; 

Prtecellit  juvenis  vi,  pietate  fenex. 
Nemo  optet  nunquam  venifle  in  luminis  oras, 

Aut  periiffe  ;  fcatet  vita  benigna  bonis/ 

Br.  37. 

VITA  omnis  fcena  eft  ludufque,  aut  ludere  difce 
Seria  icponens,  aut  mala  dura  pati. 

Br.  17. 
QU;E  fine  morte  fuga  eft  vitje,  quam  turba  ma- 

lorum 

Non  vitanda  gravem,  non  toleranda  facit  ? 
Dulcia  dat  natura  quidem,  mare,  fidera,  terras, 

Lunaque  quas  et  fol  itque  reditque  vias. 
Terror  ineft  aliis,  mcerorque,  et  fiquid  habebis 
Forte  boni,  ultrices  experiere  rices. 

Br.  47. 

TERRAM  adii  nudus,  de  terra  nudus  abibu 
Quid  labor  efficiet  ?  non  nifi  nudus  ero. 
3  K.  ij 


I84 


THE   WORKS   OF   JOHNSON. 


Br.  a;. 
NATUS  cram  lacrymans,  lacrymans  e  luce  recede; 

Sunt  quibus  a  lacrymis  vix  vacat  ulla  dies. 
Tale  hotninum  genus  eft,  infirmum,  trifte,  mi- 

fellum, 
Quod  raors  in  cineres  folvit,  et  abdit  humo. 

Br.  29. 

QtnsQtJis  adit  ledlos  elata1  uxore  fecundos, 

Naulragus  iratas  ille  retentat  aquas. 

Br.  30. 
FJELIX  ante  alios  rmllius  debitor  aeris: 

Hunc  fequitur  cjelebs ;  tertius,  orbe,  venis. 
Nee  male  res  ceflit,  fubito  fi  funere  fponfam 

Ditatus  magna  dote,  recondis  humo. 
Hisfapiens  leftis,  Epicurum  quasrere  fruftra 

Quales  fmt  monades,  qua  tit  inane,  finas. 

Br.  31. 

QJ»TARIT  quicunque  fenex  fibi  longius  xvur.i, 
Dignus  qui  multa  in  luftra  fenelcat,  erit. 

Cum  procul  eft, optat,  cum  venit.quifque  feneclam, 
Incufat,  Temper  fpe  meliora  videt. 

Br.  46. 

OMNIS  vita  nimis  brevis  eft  felicibus,  uha 
Nox  miferis  longi  temporis  inftar  babet. 

Br.  55- 

GRATIA  ter  grata  eft  velqx,  fin  forte  moretur, 
Gratia  vix  reftat  nomine  digna  fuo. 

Br.  56. 

SEU  prece  pofcatur,  feunon,  da  Jupiter  omne, 
Magne,  bonum,  omue  malum,  et  pofcentibus  ab- 
nuc  nobis. 

Br.  60. 

MR,  cane  yitato,  cants  excipit  alter ;  eodem 
In  me  ammo  tellus  gignit  et  unda  feras, 

Nee  mirum  ;  reftat  lepori  confcendere  ccelum, 
Sidereus  tamen  hie  territat,  ecce,  canis  f 

Br.  70. 

TELLURI,  arboribus  ver  frondens,  fidera  ccelo 
Grxcias  et  urbs,  urbi  eft  ifta  propaga,  decus. 

B.r-  75- 

IMPIA  facia  patrans,  homines  fortafie  latebis, 
Noa  poteris,  meditans  prava,  latere  Deos. 

Br.75. 
ANTIOPE  fatyrum,  Danae  aurum,  Europaju- 

vencum, 
Et  cycnum  fecit,  Leda  petita  Jovem. 

Br.  9». 

^Evi  fat  novi  quam  fim  brevis ;  aftra  tuenti, 

Per  certas  ftabili  If  ge  voluta  vices, 
Tangitur  baud  pedibus  tellus :  conviva  Deorum 

Expleor  ambrofiis  exhilarorque  cibis. 

Br.  p6. 
QUOD  nintium  eft  fit  ineptucn,  hinc,  ut  dixere 

priores, 
Et  mclli  niaiio  fellis  amaror  ineft. 

Br.  103. 

PUPPE  gubernatrix  fedifti,  audacia,  prima 
Divitiis  acqens  afpera  cardia  virum  j 


Sola  rates  ftruis  inftdas.  et  dalcis  aruorem 
Lucri  ulcifcendum  mox  nece  fola  doces. 

Aurea  fecla  hominum,  quorum  i'pe&andus  oceliis 
E  longinquo  itideiu  pontusetorcus  erat. 

Br.  126. 
DJTESCIS,  credo,  quid  reftat?  quicquid  habeuis 

In  tumuiuin  tecum,  morte  jubente,  trahes? 
Divitias  cumulas,  pereuntes  negligis  horas, 

Incrementa  sevi  non  cumulare  potes. 

Br.  i  a  6. 

MATER  adulantum,  prolefque  pecunia  curse, 
Teque  frui  tiraor  eft,  teque  carere  dolor. 

Br.  126. 

ME  miferum  fors  omnis  habet  ;  florentibus  annis 
Pauper  eram,  nummis  diffluit  area  fenis ; 

Qiieis  uti  poteram  quondam  Fortuna  negavit, 
Q^ieis  uti  nequeo,  nunc  mihi  prsebet  opes. 

Br.  117. 

MNEMOSYNE,  ut  Sappho mellitavocecanentem, 
Audiit,  irata  eft  ne  nova  Mufa  foret. 

Br.  15  z. 

CUM  tacet  indoclus,  fapientior  efie  videtur, 
Et  morbus  tegitur,  dum  premit  ora  pudor. 

Br.  155- 
NUNC  huic,  nunc  aliis  cederis,  cui  farra  Menippus 

Credit,  Achaemenidas  nuper  agellus  eram. 
Quod  nuili  proprium  verfat  Fortunav  putabat 

Ille  fuum  ftolidus,  nunc  putat  ille  fuum. 

Br.  136. 

NON  Fortuna  fibi  te  gratum  tollit  in  altuoi ; 
At  docet,  exemplo,  vis  fibi  quanta,  tuo. 

Br.  162. 
Hie,  aurum  ut  reperit,  laqueum  abjicit,  alter 

ut  aurum 
Non  reperit,  neclit  quern  reperit,  laqueum. 

Br.  167. 

VIVE  tuo  ex  animo,  vario  rumore  loquetur 
De  te  plebs  audax,  bene,  et  ille  male. 

Br.  l6t. 

VITJE  rofa  brevis  eft,  properans  fi  carpere  nolis. 
Quaerenti  obveniet  mox  fine  flore  rubus. 

Br.  170. 

PULICIBUS  morfus,  reftinclft  lampade,  ftultus 
Exclamat ;  nunc  me  cernere  definius. 

Br.  «o». 

MENODOTUM  pinxit  Diodorus,  et  exit  imago, 
Pis  ter  Menodotum,  nuliius  abfimilis. 

Br.  ao.j. 
HADD  lavit  Phido,  ha.ud  tetigit,  mihi  febre  car 

lenti 
In  mentem  ut  venit  nominis,  ir.terii. 

Br.  aid, 

NYCTICORAX  cantat  lethale,  fed  ipfa  canenti 
Demophilo  aufcuitans  Nyc~licorax  moritur. 

Br.  aia. 

HER.MEM  Deorum  nuncium,  pennislevem, 
Quo  rege  gaudent  Arcades,  furem  bourn, 
Hujus  paleftrs  qui  vigil  cuftos  ftetit, 


P  O  E  M  A  t  A. 


•am  nocle  tollit  Aulus,  et  ridens  ait ; 
Praeftat  magiftro  faepe  difcipulus  fuo. 

Br.  aa3. 

Qui  jacet  hie,  femis  vixit.nunc,  lumine  e.dfus, 
Dario  magno  non  minus  ille  poteft. 

Br.  a*?. 

FUNUS  Alexandri  mentitur  fama ;  fideique 
Si  Phosbo,  viclor  nefcit  obire  diem. 

Br.  241. 

NAUTA,  quis  hoc  jaceat  ne  percontereiepulchro, 
Zveniat  tantum  mitior  unda  tibi  1 

Br.  256. 

CWR  opuJentus  eges !    tua  cuncla   in  foenore 

ponis. 
Sic  aliis  dives,  tu  tibi  pauper  agis. 

Br.  262. 

Qui  pafcit  barbam  fi  crefcit  mente,  Platoni, 
IJirce,  parem  nitido  te  tua  barba  facit. 

Br.  a66. 

CLARUS  Joannes  reginse  affinis,  ab  alto 
Sanguine  Anaftafii ;  cuncla  fcpulta  jacent : 

Et  pius,  et  recli  cultor  t  non  ilia  jacere 
JJicam  ;  ftat  virtus  non  fubigenda  neci. 

Br.  267. 

CUNCTIPARENS  tellus  falve,  levisefto  puliilo 
Lyfigeni,  fuerat  non  gravis  ille  tibi. 

Br.  285. 
NAUFRAGUS  hie  jaceo;  contra,  jacet  ecce  co- 

lonus  ! 
Idem  orcus  terras,  fie,  pelagoque  fubeft. 

Br.  301. 

QUID  falvere  jubes  me,  pefilme  ?  Corripe  grefius; 
Eft  roihi  quod  non  te  rideo,  plena  falus. 

Et  ferus  eit  Timon  fub  terns ;  janitor  orci, 
Cerbere,  te  mbrfu  ne,  petat  ille,  cave., 

Br.  307. 
VITAM  a  terdecimo  fextusmihi  finiet  annus, 

Aftra  mathematicos  ii  modo  vera  decent. 
Suflkit  hoc  votis;  flos  hie  pulchenmus  sevi  eft, 

Et  fenium  triplex  Nettoris  urna  capit. 

Br.  322. 

ZOSIMA,  qua  folo  fuit  olim  corpore  ferva, 
Corpore  nunc  etiam  libera  facia  fuit. 

Br.  326. 

ExiGtiuM  en  '.  Priami  monumentum ;  haud  ille 

meretur 
Quale,  fed  hoftiles,  qualededere  manus. 

Br.  326. 
HECTOR  dat  gladium  Ajaci,  dat  Balteum  et 

Ajax, 
lleclori,  et  exitio  munus  utrique  fuit. 

Br.  344. 
UT  vis,  ponte  minax ;    modo  tres  difcefieris 

ulnas, 
Ingemuia  fluclus,  ingeroiuaque  fonum. 


88-5 


Br.  344, 

NAUFRAGUS  hie  jaceo ;  fiden«i  tamen  utere  velii, 
Tutum  aliis  aequor,  me  pereunte.  fuit. 

Br.  398. 
HERACLITUS  ?go  ;  indocla;  ne  laedite  linguae 

Subtile  ingenium  quaro,  capaxqi  c  mei, 
Unus  homo  mihi  pro  fex'-en;  s,  turby  poj'elli 

Pro  nullo,  clamo  imnc  tumulatus  idem.    ^ 

Br.  jpf , 

AMBRACIOTA,  vale  lux  altr.  i,  Cleombrotus  ain't 

Et  faitu  e  muro  ditis  opaca  petit ; 
Trifle  nihil  paflus,  anlmi  at  de  forte  Platonis 

Scripta  legens,  fola  viverc  mente  cu],it. 

Br  399* 

SSRVUS,  Epicletus,  mutilato  corpore,  vixi, 
Pauperieque  Irus,  curaque  fumma  Ucum. 

Br  445. 

UNDK  hie  Praxiteles  ?  riudam  vidifiis,  Aiioni, 
Et  Pari,  et  Anchifa.'non  alms,  Venerem. 

Br.  451. 

SUFFLATO  accendis  quiibials  carbone  luceniatn, 
Corde  meo  accendas ;  ardeo  totus  ego. 

Br.  486. 
JUPITER  hoc  templum,  ut,  fiquando  reunquet 

Olympum, 
Atthide  non  aJius  defit  Olympus,  habet. 

Br.  487- 

Civis  et  externus  grati ;  domus  holpita  nefcit 
Quasrere,  quis,  cujus,  quis  pater,  unde  venis. 

POMPEII. 

Br.  487- 

CuMfugere  haud  pofiit,  fraclis  Vicloria  perinis, 
Te  manet  imperii,  Roma,  perenne  decus. 

Br.  488. 

LATRONES  alibi  locupletum  quserite  tecla, 
Aflidet  huic  euftos  ftrenua  pauperies. 

FORTUNJE  malim  adverfae  tolerare  procellas, 
Quam  domini  ingentis  ferre  fupercilium. 

EN,  Sexto,  Sexti  meditatur  imago,  filente, 
Orator  itatua  eit,  ftatuaeque  orator  imago. 

PULCHR  «  eft  virgihitas  intacla,  at  vita  periret, 

Omnes  li  vellent  virginitate  frui ; 
Nequitiam  fugiens,  fervata  contrahe  lege 

Conjugium,  ut  pro  te  des  hominem  patriae. 

FERT  humeris,  veherabile  onus,  Cythereis  heros 
Per  Trojje  flaminas,  denfaque  tela,  patrem. 

Clatnat  et  Argivis,  vetuli,  ne  t.ingit> ,  viu 
Exiguumeft  Marti,  fed  mihi  grandelucrum. 

FORMA  animss  hominum  capit,  at,  fi  gratia 

defit, 
Non  tecet;  efca  natat  pulchra,  fed  hamas»b» 


S86 


THE   WORKS   OF   JOHNSON. 


COGITAT  aut  loquitur  nil  vir,  nil  cogitat  uxor, 
Felici  thalamo  non  puto,  rixa  itrepit. 

BUCCINA  disjecit  Thebarum  mcenia,  ftruxit 
Quae  lyra,  quam  fibi  non  concinit  harmonia  '. 

MENTE  fenes  olim  juvenis,  Fauftine,  premobas, 
Nunc  juvenum  terres  robore  corda  fenex. 

Lcevum  at  utrumque  decus,  juveni  quod  prrebuit 

olim 
Turba  fenum,  juvenes  nunc  tribucre  feni. 

EXCEPTJE  hofpitio  mufbe,  tribuere  libel'os 
Herodoto  hofpitii  prseraia,  quasque  fuum. 

STELLA  mea,  obfervans  ftellas,  Dii  me  aethera 

faxint 
Multis  ut  te  oculis  fim  potis  afpicere. 

CLARA  Cheronese  foboles,  Plinarche,  dicavit 
Hanc  ftatuam  idgenio,  Roma  benigna,  tuo. 

Das  bene  collatos,  qu«s  Roir.-i  et  Gracia  jaCtat, 
At  Divos  paribus  paffibus  ire  duces ; 

Sed  fimilem,  Plutarche,  tux  defcribere  vitam 
Non  poteras,  rcgio  non  tulit  ulla  parem. 

BAT  tibi  Pythagoram  piclor ;  quod  ni  ipfe  tacere 
Pythagoras  mallet,  vocem  habuiffet  opus. 

PROLEM  Hippi  et  fua  qua  meliorcm  fecula  nullum 
Viderc.  Archidicen  hsec  tumulavit  humus; 

Quarn.   return  fobolem,  nuptam,  matrem,  atque 

fororem 
Fecerunt  nulli  fors  titulique  gravem. 

CECROPIDIS  gravis  hie  ponor,  Martique  dicatus, 
Qua  tua  (ignantur  gefta,  Philippe,  lapis, 

Spreta  jacet  Marathon,  jacet  et  Salaminia  laurus, 
Omnia  dum  Macedum  gloria  et  arma  premunt. 

Sint  Demofthenica  ut  jurata  cadavera  voce, 
Stabo  illis  qui  funt,  quique  fuere  gravis. 

FLORIEUS  in  pratis,  legi  quos  ipfe,  coronam 
Contextam  variis,  do,  Rhodoclea,  tibi  : 

Kic  anemone  humet,  confert  parcifius  odores 
Cum  violis  ;  ipirant  iilia  miita  rofis. 

Hisredimita  comas,  mores  depone  fuperbos, 
Hsec  peiitura  iiitent ;  tu  peritura  nites  I 

MUREM  Afclepiades  fub  teclo  ut  vidit  avarus, 
Quid  tibi,  mus,  mecum,  dixit,  iimice,  tibi. 

Mus  blandum  ridens,  refpondit,  pelle  timorem  ; 
Hie,  bone  vir,  fedem,  non  alimenta,  peto. 

S«PE  tuum  in  tumulum  lacrymarumdeciditimber 
Quern  fumiit  blando  jundlus  amore  dolor; 

Ch-imsenim  cuncli^,  tanquam,  dum  vitamanebat, 
Cuique  cfTes  natus,  cu'que  fjdalis,  eras. 

Heu  quam  dura  preces  iprevit,  quam  i'urda  que- 

relas 
Parca,  juventutem  non  miferata  tuam  ! 

ARTI  ignis  lucem  tribui,  tamen  artis  et  ignis 

Nunc^ope,  fupplici  vivit  jmttgi  mei. 
Gratia  nulla  hominuM  mentes  tenet,  ifta  Pro- 
methei 

Munera  muneribus,  fi  rctulcrc  fabri. 


ILLA  triumphatrix  Graiiim  confueta  procorum 
Ante  fuas  agmen  La's  habere  tores, 

Hoc  Veueri  fpeculum  ;  nolo  n.e  cei  nere  qualis 
Sum  liunc,  nee  polTum  cernere  qualis  eraiu. 

CRETHIDA  faliellas  clulces  garrire  peritam 
PrulVquitur  lacrymis  filial  moclta  Sami; 

Blnndam  laniiici  lociani  fine  fine  loquacem, 
Quam  tenet  hie,  cuuctas  qua  manet,  alta  quies. 

DICITE,  Caufidici,  gelido  nunc  marmore  magui 
MugituDa  tumulus  compritnit  Amphiloci. 

Si  forfan  tumulum  quo  conditur  Eumarus  aufers 
Nil  lucri  facies;  offa  liabet  ct  cinerem. 

EPICTETL 

ME,  rex  deorum.  tuque,  due,  neceflltas, 
O_uo,  le^e  veitra.  vita  me  feret  mea. 
Sequar  libenter,-  fin  reluclari  velim, 
l'ia;n  fceleitus,  nee  tamen  minus  fequar. 

E  THEOCRITO. 

POETA,  ledlor,  hie  quiefcit  Hipponax, 
Si  fis  freleftus,  prseteri,  procul,  marmor: 
At  te  bonnm  fi  uons,  er  bonis  natum, 
Tutum  hie  fedile,  et  fi  placet,  fopor  tutus. 

ZUR.  MED.    ipj  —  zo3- 


immerito  culpanda  venit 
Proavum  varcors  infipicntia, 
Qui  con  vi  via  lautafque  dapes 
Hilarare  fuis  juffere  modis 
Cantum,  vitre  dulce  levamen. 
At  nemo  ferai  iras  hominum, 
Domibus  cluris  esitiales, 
Voce  aut  fidious  pellere  docuit 
Queis  tnmen  autam  ferre  medelam 
Uiile  cir.iclis  hoc  opus  eflet  ; 
Namque,  ubi  menias  onerant  epulse, 
Qiiortum  dulcis  Uixtaia  foni? 
Sat  iretitia,  fine  fi  bfidtis, 
I'eclora  molli  mulcet  dabije 
Copia  cccnx. 


K./ZI  reTa,   fia^tr.v  vr\r£f.t  'iouvt  Qtdv 

SEPTEM  STATES. 

PRIMA  pnrit  terras  astas,  ficcatque  fecunda, 
Evocat  Abramum  dein  tertia  ;  quarta  reanquit 
yEgyptum  ;  templo  Solomonis  quinta  (uperfit  ; 
Cyiuni  iexta  timet  ;  laetatur  feptima  Chrifto. 

*  The  above  is  a  iierfion  of  a  Latin  epigram  on 
the  famous  JohnDuke  of  Marlborough,  by  the  Abbe 
Salvini,  -Mbicb  is  us  jolliisMs  : 

Haud  al:o  vultu,  fremuit  Mars  acer  in  armis  ; 
llaud  alio,  Cypriam  perculit  ore  Deum. 

The  Duke  ivas,  itfeems,  remarkably  bandfome 
in  his  per/on,  to  which  the  fecond  line  has  refe 
rence- 


P  O  E  M  A  T  A. 


887 


*  His  Tempelmanni  numeris  dcfcripferis  orbem. 
(V?)  Cum  fex  centuriis  Jutixo  millht  fepttni. 
Myrias  (£)  /Egypto  ceflit  bisfeptima  pingui. 
Myrias  adfcifcit  fibi  nonagelima  feptem 
Irnperium  qua  Turca  (r)  ferbx  exercet  iniqnum. 

Undecies  binasdecadas  et  millia  feptem 
^orritur  (rf)  Pelopis  tellus  quse  nomine  gaudet. 

Myriatlesdecies  feptem  numerare  jubebit 
Paftor  (^)  Arabs :    decies  oclo  libi  Perfa  (d)  re- 
quirit. 

Myriades  fibi  pulcra  duas,  duo  millia  pofcit 
Parthenope  (d~).     (<•)  Novies  vult   tellus  mille 

Sicana. 
(/)  Papa  fuo  regit  imperio  ter  millia  quinque. 

*  To  the  above  lines  (which  are  unfinifljed,  and 
can  therefore  be  only  offered  as  a  fragment),  in 
Johnf<jt?i  manufcript,  are  prefixed  the  words 
"  Geograpbica  Metilca."  As  <we  are  referred, 
in  tbefirjl  of  the  verfcs,  to  Templeman,  for  ba-v- 
ingfurnijhed  the  numerical  computations  that  are 
the  fubjeH  af  them,  bis  work  has  been  according 
ly  CQ?tf tilted,  the  title  of  -which  is,  "  Anew  Survey 
of  the  Globe"  and  which  piofeJJ'es  to  give  an  accu 
rate  menfuration  of  all  the  empires,  kingdoms, 
and  other  divisions  thereof,  in  the  fquare  miles 
that  theyrefpeBively  contain.  On  comparifon  of  the 

federal  number  sin  thefe  "vcrfes,  'with  thofefet  down 
by  Templeman,  it  appears  that  nearly  half  of  them 
are  precifely  tbe  fame  ;  the  re/I  are  not  fo  exactly 

done. For  the  convenience  of  tie  reader  it  has 

teen  thought  right  tofubjoin  each  number,  as  it 

Jlands  in  Templeman 's  work,  to  that  in  Johnfon's 
I'erfes  which  refers  to  it. 

(a)  In  this  fir/t  article  that  is  verjified,  there 
is  an  accurate  conformity  in  Johnfon's  num 
ber  to  Templeman  s ;  'who  fets  down  the  fquare 
miles  of  Pale/line  at  7,600. 

(t)  Thefquare  miles  of  Egypt  are,  in  Temple- 
man,  140,700. 

(c )  The  whdle  Turkifh  empire,  in  Templeman, 
is  computed  at  960.0 57  fquare  miles. 

(d)  In  the  four  folio-wing  articles,  the  numbers, 
in  Templeman  and  injohnforfs  verfes,  are  alike. — 
We  find,  accordingly,  the  Morea,  in  Templeman, 
to  befet  down  at  7 ,220  fquare  miles — Arabia,  at 
703,000.— Perfta,   at   8oo,oco. — and  Naples,  at 
22,000. 

(e )  Sicily,  in  Templeman,  is  put  down  at  9,400, 
(/)  The  Pope's  dominions,  at  14,868. 


Cum  fex  centuriis  numerat  fex  millia  Tufcus  (^.) 
Centuria  Ligures  (b)  augent  duo  millia  quarta. 
Centurire  o<ftavam  decadem   addit  Lucca  (i)  fe 
cund  x. 

Ut  dicas,  fpatiis  quam  latis  imperet  orbi 
(i)  Ruffia,  myriadas  ter  denas  addc  trecentis: 
(1)  Sardiniam  cutn'fexcentisfex  millia  complent. 
.    Cum  fcxagenis,  dum  plura  lecluferit  ztas, 
Myriadas  ter  mille  humini  dat  terra  (m)  colendas. 

Vult  fibi  vicenas  millennia  myrias  addi, 
VicenLs  quinas,  Afiam  («)  metata  celebrem. 

Se  quinquagenis  octingentefima  jungit 
Myrias,  ut  menti  pateat  tola  Africa  (o)  dodlae. 
Myriadas  feptem  decies  Luropa  (/>)  ducentis 
Et  quadragenis  quoque  per  tria  millia  jungit. 

Myriadas  denas  dat,  quinque  et  millia,  fexque 
Centurias,  et  tres  decadas  Europa  Britannis  (q~) 

Ter  tria  myriad!  conjungit  millia  quarta:, 
Centurise  quarts  decades   quinque  (r)   Anglia 

r,e<ftit. 

Millia  myriad!  feptem  foecunda  fecund^ 
Et  quadragenis  decades  quinque  addit  lerne  (j), 

Cutingentis  quadragenis  fotialis  adauget 
Millia  Belga  ('?)  novem. 

Ter  fex  centurias  Hollandia  (f)  jactat  opima 
Undecimuai  Camber  (f )  vult  feptem  millibus  addi. 


(^•)  Tufcany,  at  6,640. 

(b)  Genoa  in  Templeman,  as  in  Jobnfon  like* 
wife,  isfet  down  at  2,400. 

(z)  Lucca,  at  286. 

[*)  The  Riijian  empire,  in  Ihe  tytb  plate  of 
Templeman,  isfet  doiim  at  3,303,485  fquare  miles. 

(/)  Sardinia,  in  Templeman,  as  likewife  in 
Job?rfo?i,  6,600. 

m}  The  habitable  world,  in  Templeman,  is 
computed,  in  fquare  miles,  at  30,666,806. 

(«)  AJia,  at  10,257,487. 

(o)  Africa,  at  8,506,208. 

(/)  Europe,  at  2,749,349. 

(y)   The  Britifh  dominions,  at  105,634. 

(r)  England,  as  likewife  in  Johnfon's  expref- 
/ion  of  the  number,  at  49,450. 
j)  Ireland,  at  27,457. 

f)  In  tbe  three  remaining  in  fiances,  which 
make  tbe  whole  that  Jobnfon  appears  to  have 
rendered  into  Latin  verfe,  we  find  tbe  numbers 
exafily  agreeing  with  tl>ofe  of  Templeman  ;  who 
mokes  thefquare  miles  cf  the  United  Provinces, 
9540 — cf  the  Province  of  Holland,  1800 — and  of 
Wales,  7011. 


EPITAPHS. 


I.    AT  LICHFIELD. 


H.  S.  E. 


MICHAEL  JOHNSON. 

VIR  impavidus,  conftans,  animofus,  periculo- 
rum,  immemor,  laborum  patientiffimus ;  fiducia 
Chriftiana  fortis  fervidufque,  pater-familias  appri- 
nae  ftrenuus ;  bibhopola  admodura  perjtus ;  mente 
Ct,  libris  et  negotiis  exculta;  animo  ita  firmo,  ut, 
6 


rebus  adverfus  diu  confliclatus,  nee  fibi  nee  fuis 
defuerit :  lingua  fie  temperata,  ut  ei  nihil  quod 
aurcs,  vel  pias,  vel  caftas  laefiflet,  aut  dolor,  veL 
voluptas  unquam  expreflerit-- 

NatusCubleije,inagroDerbicnfi,  anno  MDCLVI. 
obiit  MDCCXXXI. 

Appofita  eft  SARA,  conjunx, 
Antiqua  FORDOROM  gente  oriunda  ;  quam  domi 
fedulam,  foris  paucisnotam  5  nulli  molettam,  men- 


THE   WORKS   OF  JOHNSON/ 

tis  acurnine  et  judicii  fubtili-tate  prsec  Jlentem  ; 
aiiis  mi:!     ra:   fibi  paruin  indulgentem  ;   ^Eterni- 
et  atfentam;  omne  fere  virtutis  nomen 
cominendavir. 


Nata  Nortonise  Regis,  in  agro  varvicenfi,  an 
no  MDCLXIX:  obiit  MDCCLIX. 
Cum  NATHANAEIE  illorum  filio,  qui  natus 
MDCCXll,  cum  vires,  et  anitni,  et  corporis  mul- 
ta  pollicerentur,  anno  MDCCXXXVII,  vitam 
brevem  pia  morte  finivit. 

II.   AT  BROMLEY,  IN  KENT. 

Hie  conduntur  reliquiae 

ELIZABETHS 

Antiqua  Jarvifiorum  g<>nte, 
Peatlingae,  apud  Leiceftrienfes,  ortje ; 

Formofae,  cultse,  ingeniofae,  piae  ; 
Uxoris,  pnmis  nuptiis,  HENRICI  PORTER, 

Secundis,  SAMUELIS  JOHNSON  ; 
Qui  multum  amatam,  diuque  defletam 

Hoc  lapide  contexit. 
©biit  Londini,  menfe  Mart. 
A.  D.  MDCCLIII. 

ni.  IN  WATFORD  CHURCH. 

IN  the  vault  below  are  depofited  the  remains  of 

JANE  BELL,  wife  of  JOHN  BELL,  Efq-. 

who,  hi  the  fifty-third  year  of  her  age, 

furrounded   with  many   worldly  blefiings, 

heard,  with  fortitude  and  compofure  truly  great, 

the  horrible  malady,  which  had  for  fome  time 

begun  to  afflict  her, 

pronounced   incurable ; 

and  for  more  than  three  years, 

endured  wi th  pat ience  and  concealed  with  deceney , 

the  daily  tortures  of  gradual  death ; 

continued  to  divide  the  hours  not  allotted  to 

devotion,  bet  ween  the  cares  of  her  family,  and  the 

converfe  of  her  friends ; 
1          rewarded  the  attendance  of  duty, 

and  acknowledged  the  offices  of  affeelion  ; 

and  while  (he  endeavoured  to  alleviate  by  cheer- 

fulnefs,  her  hufband's  fufferings  and  forrows, 

increafed  them  by  her  gratitude  for  his  care, 

and  her  folicitude  for  his  quiet. 

To  .he  memory  of  thefe  virtues, 

more  highly  honoured  as  more  familiarly  known, 

this  monument  is  erected  by 

JCHN  BEIL  *. 


IN  STREATHjSTM  CHURCH. 

I          "e ;  ulta  eft 

HESTER  A!ARIA  SAI.USBURY. 

THOM._  COTTON  de-Combei  mere, 

Baronetti,  Celtrienfis.  F.lia ; 
JOUANNIS  SALUSBURY  Armigeri, 

Flintienlis,  uxor ; 

Forma  felix.  fell:;  ingenio, 

Omnibus  jucund a,  fnorum  amantifiima. 

Linguis  Artibufque  ita  exculta 

Ut  loquenti  nnnquam  deeflent 

Sermonis  nitor,  fententiarum  flofculi,- 

Sapientiae  gravitas,  leporum  gratia. 

Modum  fervandi  adeo  perita 
Ut  domeftica  inter  negotia  literis 

Sbc  died  mrttrnvntl)  of  OSto&er  1771. 


Obleclaretur, 
Et  literarum  inter  delicias  rerd» 

Familiarem  fedulo  curaret, 

Multis  illi  multos  annos  precantibus 

Diri  carcinomatis  *  verieno  contabuit 

Viribufqne  vita?  paulatim  refolutis 

E  terris  meliora  fperans  emigravit. 

Nata  1707,   N«pta  1739,   Obiit  1773. 

V.   IN  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY, 

OLIVARI  GOLDSMITH 

Poetae.  Phyfici.  Hiftorici. 

Q|ui  nulium  fere  fcribendi  genus 

Non  tetigit. 

Nulium  quod  tetigit  non  ornavit 
Sive  Rifus  eflent  movendi 

Sive  Lacrymae. 

AfTedluum  potens  at  lenis  Dominate; 
Ingenio  fublimis—  Vividus  Verfatilis 

Oratione  grandis  nitidus  Venuitus 

Hoc  Monumentum  Meaioriam  coluit 

Sodalium  Amor 

Amicorum  Fides 

Leclorum  Veneratio 

Natus  Hibernia  Tornias  Lonfordier.fi* 

In  Loco  cni  Nomen  Pallas 

Nov.  xxix.  MDCCXSXI. 
Eblan.T  Literis    inftitutus 

Obiit  Londini 
April  iv,  MDCCLXXIV. 

VI. 

HIC  REQWIESCIT  THOMAS  PARNELL,   S.  T.  P» 

Ojji  facerdos  pariter  et  poeta, 
Utrafque  partes  ita  implevit, 
Ut  neque  facerdoti  fuavitas  poetas, 
Nee  poetas  facerdotis  fandlitas  deeflet. 

VII. 
ON  THE  DEATH  OF  STEPHEN  ORE  Y.F.R.Sx 

THE  ELECTRICIAN  f. 

LONG  haft  thou  borne  the  burthen  of  the  day, 

Thy  talk  is  ended,  venerable  Grey  ! 

No  more  fliall  art  thy  dext'rous  hand  require, 

To  break  the  fleep  of  elemental  fire  : 

To  roufe  the  powers  that  actuate  nature's  frame, 

The  momentaneous  fhock,  th'  electric  flame; 

The  flame,  which  firft,  weak  pupil  of  thy  lore, 

I  law,  eondemn'd  alas  1  to  fee  no  more. 

.  *"  Now,  hoary  fage,  purfue  thy  happy  flight 

With  fwifter  motion,  hafte  to  purer  light, 

Where  Bacon  waits,  with  Newton  and  with  Boyler 

To  hail  thy  genius  and  applaud  thy  toil, 

Where  intuition  breathes  through  time  and  (pace,. 

And  mocks  experiment's  fucceflive  race; 

Sets  tardy  fcience  toil  at  nature's  laws, 

And  wonders  how  th'  effect  obfcures  the  caufe. 

Yet  not  to  deep  refearch  pr  happy  guefs, 
Is  view'd  the  life  of  hope,  the  death  of  peace  ; 
Unbleft  the  man,  whom  philofophic  rage 
Shall  'tempt  to  lofe  the  Chriftian  in  the  fage  ; 
Not  art  but  goodnefs  pour'd  the  facred  ray 
That  cheer'd  the  parting  hours  of  humble  Grey. 


*   Cancer. 

f  Tbeftctcb  of  this  poem  was  written 
Williams,  but  Joknfoa  jvrfte  it  all  ov 
except  ftV9  linff, 


t  H  B 


O  F 


WILLIAM  WHITEHEAD, 


Containing 


THI  DANGER  OF  WRITING  VERSE, 

ATYS  AND   ADRASTUS, 

OK  RIDICULE, 

ANN  BOLEYN  TO  HENRY  VIII. 

HTMN   TO    THE  NYMPH    OF  BRISTOL 

SPRING, 

A  CHARGE  TO  POETS, 
VARIETY, 


THE  GOAT'S  1EAKP, 

ODES, 

ELEGIES, 

EPISTLES, 

TALES, 

SONGS, 

PROLOGUES, 

EPILOGUES 


bV.  life.  life. 
To  which  is  prefixed, 

"THE  LIFE   OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


Ye  gen'rous  pair,  who  held  the  poet  dear, 

Whofe  blamelefs  life  my  friendly  pen  pourtrays, 

Accept,  with  that  combin'd,  his  lateft  lays, 
Where  (till  young  fancy  fports  in  dicflion  clear ; 
And  may  propitious  fate  t!-.<?ir  merit  bear, 

To  times  when  tafte  (hall  weave  the  wreaths  of  praife> 

By  modes  difdain'd  in  thefe  fantaftic  days, 
Such  wreaths  as  claflic  heads  were  proud  to  wear. 

But  if  no  future  ear  applauds  his  (train, 
If  mine  alike  to  Lethe's  lake  defcends, 

Yet,  while  aloof,  in  raem'ry's  buoyant  main, 
The  gale  of  fame  your  genuine  worth  extends, 

Still  (hall  our  names  this  fair  diftinclion  gain, 
That  Villicrs  and  that  Harcourt  call'd  us  friends. 

Mafoa's  Sonnet  to  the  Earl  of  Jerfey  and  Earl  Harcturt. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MVNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE, 


THE  LIFE  OF  W.  WHITEHEAD. 


WILLIAM  WHITEHEAB  was  born  in  the  parifli  of  St.  Botolph,  Cambridge,  in  February  1714-15. 
He  was  the  fecond  fon  of  Richard  Whitehead,  a  baker,  who  lived  in  the  parifh  of  St.  Botolph,  and 
who,  in  that  capacity,  ferved  the  neighbouring  College  of  Pembroke-Hall.  He  was  of  a  very  carelefs 
difpofition,  attending  little  to  bufinefs,  and  employing  his  time  chiefly  in  ornamenting,  rather  than 
cultivating,  a  few  acres  of  land  near  the  neighbouring  village  of  Grantchefter,  which  ftill  goes  by  the 
name  of  Whitehead's  Folly.  At  his  death,  he  left  confiderable  debts,  which  his  fen  very  honour 
ably  difcharged,  by  the  profits  arifing  from  his  theatrical  productions.  His  mother  was  a  very  a- 
miable,  pious,  prudent,  and  exemplary  woman.  Their  eldeft  fon,  John,  who  was  born  fifteen 
jears  before  the  poet,  was  educated  for  the  church,  and  by  the  intereft  of  Mr.  Bromley,  afterwards 
Lord  Montfort,  obtained  the  living  of  Perfhore,  hi  the  diocefe  of  Worcefter.  They  had  alfo  one 
daughter,  who  died  in  infancy. 

He  received  the  firft  rudiments  of  his  education  at  fome  common  fchool  in  Cambridge  ;  but  at 
the  age  of  fourteen,  he  was  removed  to  Winchefter,  having  obtained  a  nomination  into  that  col 
lege,  by  means  of  Mr.  Bromley,  July  6.  1728. 

At  fchool,  according  to  the  information  of  Dr.  Balguy,  he  was  always  of  a  delicate  turn;  and 
though  obliged  to  go  to  the  hills  with  the  other  boys,  he  fpent  his  time  there  in  reading  either 
plays  or  poetry,  and  was  alfo  particularly  fond  of  the  "  Atalantes,"  and  all  other  books  of  private 
hiftory  in  character.  He  very  early  exhibited  his  tafte  for  poetry  ;  for  while  other  boys  were  con 
tented  with  mowing  up  twelve  or  fourteen  lines,  he  would  fill  half  a  flieet,  but  always  with  Eng- 
lifli  verfe.  At  fixteen  he  wrote  a  whole  comedy. 

In  the  winter  of  the  year  1732,  he  is  faid  to  have  a<£led  a  female  part  in  the  "  Andria,"  under 
Dr.  Burton's  direction.  It  is  certain,  that  he  acted  Marcia,  in  the  tragedy  of  "  Cato,"  with  much 
applaufe. 

1"  *733»  tne  Earl  of  Peterborough,  having  Pope  at  his  houfe,  near  Southampton,  carried  him 
to  Winchefter,  to  fliow  him  the  college,  &tc.  The  Earl  gave  ten  guineas,  to  be  difpofed  of  in  prizes 
among  the  boys,  and  Pope  fet  them  a  fubject  to  write  upon,  viz.  PETERBOROUGH.  Prizes  of  a 
guinea  each  were  given  to  fix  of  the  boys,  among  whom  Whitehead  was  one.  The  remaining  fuiu 
was  laid  out  for  other  boys,  in  fubfcriptions  to  Pine's  Horace,  then  about  to  be  published. 

He  never  excelled  in  writing  epigrams,  nor  did  he  make  any  confiderable  figure  in  Latin  verfe, 
though  he  underftood  the  claflics  very  well,  and  had  a  good  memory.  He  was,  however,  employed 
to  tranflate  into  Latin  the  firft  epiftle  of  the  "  Effay  on  Man  ;'*  and  the  tranflation  is  ftill  extant  in, 
his  own  hand.  Dobfon's  fuccefs  in  tranflating  Prior's  "  Solomon,"  had  put  this  project  into  Pope's 
head  ;  and  he  fet  various  perfons  to  work  upon  it. 

His  fchool  friendfliips  were  ufually  contracted,  either  with  noblemen  or  gentlemen  of  large  for 
tune,  fuch  as  Lord  Drumlanrig,  Sir  Charles  Douglas,  Sir  Robert  Burdett,  Mr.  Tryon,  Mr.  Mun- 
day  of  Leiceftenham,  and  Sir  Bryan  Broughton,  to  whom,  after  he  removed  to  Oxford,  he  fent  a 
Poetical  Epiftle  from  Winchefter.  The  choice  of  thefe  perfons  was  imputed  by  fome  of  his  fchool- 
fellows  to  vanity,  by  others,  to  prudence ;  but  it  might  be  owing  to  his  delicacy,  as  this  woul4 
make  him  early  diigufted  with  the  coa.fer  mauicrs  of  ordinary  boys. 


iya  THE  LIFE   OP  W.  WHITEHEAB. 

He  wai  fcbool-tutor  to  Mr.  Wallop,  afterwards  Lord  Lymington,  father  to  the  prefent  Earl 
Portfmouth.    He  enjoyed,  for  Come  little  time,  a  lucrative  place  in  the  college,  that  of  prepofitor  < 
the  hall. 

He  had  not  redded  it  Winchefter  above   two  years,  before   his  father  died.     However,  by 
las  own  frugality,  and  what  fmall  afiiftance  his  mother  could  give  him,  he  was  enabled  to  continu 
at  fchool  till  he  could  appear  a  candidate  for  an  election  to  New  College. 

At  the  election,  in  September  1735,  he  was  treated  with  fingular  injuftice ;  for,  through  th< 
force  of  fuperior  intereft,  he  was  placed  fo  low  on  the  roll,  that  it  was  fcarcely  poffible  for  him  to 
lucceed  to  New  College.  Young,  feveral  years  before,  experienced  the  fame  fate. 

Be isg  now  fuperannnated,  he  left  Winchefter  of  courfe,  deriving  no  other  advantage  from  the 
college  than  a  good  education,  which  he  gratefully  acknowledges,  in  the  beautiful  elegy  addreffed 
To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lo-wth,  on  his  "  Life  of  William  of  Wykeham." 

From  the  fame  fount,  with  reverence  let  me  boaft, 

The  claffic  ftreams  with  early  thirft  I  caught, 
What  time,  they  fay,  the  mufes  revell'd  moft, 
When  BIGG  prefixed,  and  when  BURTON  taught. 

Two  months  after  his  difappointment  at  Winchefter,  he  removed  to  the  place  of  his  nativity, 
where  the  peculiar  circumftances  of  his  being  the  orphan  fon  of  a  baker  of  Cambridge,  gave  him 
an  unqueftionable  claim  to  one  of  the  icholarfhips,  founded  at  Clare-Hall,  by  Mr.  Thomas  Pyke, 
of  that  trade  and  town.  His  mother  accordingly  admitte^d  him  a  fizer  of  this  college,  under  the 
tuition  of  Meffrs.  Curling,  Goddard,  and  Hopkinfon,  November  a6.  1735 ;  and  the  fcholarfhip, 
though  it  amounted  only  to  four  (hillings  a-week,  was  in  his  circumftances  a  defirable  object. 

The  notice  which  Pope  had  taken  of  him  at  fchool,  prevented  the  inferiority  of  his  ftation  from 
being  any  hindrance  to  his  introduction  into  the  belt  company.  The  cafe  and  the  natural  polite- 
nefs  of  his  manners,  added  to  an  agreeable  and  pleafing  countenance,  would  alfo  facilitate  the  recep 
tion  of  a  young  man,  \vho  had  only  his  ingenuity  to  recommend  him.  It  was  likewife  very  fortunate  for 
him  to  find  many  perfons  who  have  fince  figured  highly  in  the  literary  and  great  world,  contemporary 
ftudents  in  the  univerfity.  Among  the  number  of  his  immediate  contemporaries  were  the  Hon. 
Charles  Townfhend,  Dr.  Powell,  Dr.  Balguy,  Dr.  Ogden,  Dr.  Stebbing,  and  Dr.  Kurd,  the  pre 
fent  Bifliop  of  Worcefter,  with  all  of  whom  he  cultivated  a  particular  intimacy. 

The  poetical  faculties  of  Whitehead  now  began  to  make  a  rapid  progrefs  ;  and  he  has  nimfelf 
explained  the  caufe,  in  his  Elegy  to  Dr.  Loivtb.  He  infinuates  that  he  thought  it  rather  fortunate 
than  otherwife,  that  he  was  not  removed  from  Winchefter  to  Oxford,  on  account  of  the  fociety  01 
fuch  men  as  it  was  MB  felicity  to  find  contemporary  ftudents  at  Cambridge. 

And  fure  in  Granta's  philofophic  made, 

Truth's  genuine  -image  beam'd  upon  my  fight, 
And  flow-ey'd  reafon  lent  her  fober  aid, 

To  form,  deduce,  compare,  and  judge  aright. 
Yes,  ye  fweet  fields.!  befide  your  oiier'd  ftream, 

Full  many  an  Attic  hour  my  youth  enjoj'd, 
Full  mdny  a  friendlhip  form'd,  life's  happieft  dream, 

And  treafur'd  many  a  blifs  which  never  cloy'd. 

The  firft  pieces  he  publifhed,  were  verfes  on  public  occafions,  the  Marriage  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  in  1736,  and  the  birth  of  his  fon,  the  prefent  king,  1738,  inferted  in  the  Cambridge  Gra- 
tulationf.  They  little  excel  the  prize-verfes  he  wrote  at  fchool,  which  have  but  little  merit,  if  we 
dedudl  from  them  that  of  mere  eafy  verfification,  which  he  feems  to  have  acquired  by  feduloufly 
imitating  Pope'smanner.  Neither  his  fancy  nor  judgment  appear  to  have  rifen  in  any  degree  equal  ta 
what  in  common  progrefs  might  be  expected  from  a  mind,  which,  a  very  few  years  after,  exhibit 
ed  both  thefe  qualities  fo  ftrikingly.  Among  the  many  pieces  written  at  that  early  period,  tho 
Vifion  of  Solomon  is  the  only  one  that  feems  to  indicate  the  future  poet. 

This,  perhaps,  would  not  J>ave  been  the  cafe,  had  he  taken  the  verfiScation  of  Spenfer,  Fair 
fax,  Milton,  and  pcets  fimilar  to  them,  for  his  model,  rather  than  the  clofe  and  condenfed  conpkts 
of  Pope  ;  for  in  that  way  of  writing,  his  fancy  would  have  developed  itfelt  earlier,  and  perhaps 
have  obtained  greater  ftrength  anrf"  powers  of  exertion.  But  though  he  had  read  Spenfer  in  his 
childhood  with  avidity,  and  was  fully  capable,  as  appear*  by  the  Vijlon  of  Solomon,  of  catching 


THE   LIFE   OF  W.  WHITEHEAD.  *<>3 

liis  manner ;  yet  the  fafhion  of  the  time  led  him  to  exercife  htmfelf  in  that  mode  of  composition, 
which  was  thenefteemed  the  beft.  Hebegan  to  write  verfesfirft  before  the  fchoolof  Miltonrofein  emu- 
luiou  of  the  fchool  of  Pope,  and  had  even  become  an  author  before  Collins,  Akeufide,  Gray,  War- 
ton,  Mafon,  and  fome  others,  had  diffufed  juft  ideas  of  a  more  perfect  fpecies  of  poetry,  by  fubfti- 
tuting  fiftion  and  fancy,  pidlurefque  defcription  and  romantic  imagery,  for  wit  and  rhyme,  lenti- 
ment  and  fatire,  polifliid  numbers,  fparkling  couplets,  and  pointed  periods. 

In  1741,  he  published  his  beautiful  epiftle  On  the  Danger  of  writing  Perfe,  with  which  he  only 
firft  commenced  a  poet.  It  exhibited  fuch  a  fpecimen  of  elegant  verfiikation,  fuch  clofe  and 
condenfed  exprefiion,  fo  much  fcnfe,  enlivened  with  all  the  fancy  the  didactic  fpecies  of  its  com. 
pofition,  would  admit,  that  it  obtained  general  admiration,  and  was  highly  approved  by  Pope 
himfelf,  of  whofe  preceptive  manner  it  is  furely  one  of  the  moft  happy  imitations  extant. 

In  June  174*,  he  was  Vie  died  Fellow  of  Clare-Hall,  about  a  year  before  he  commenced  Matter 
ef  Arts.  His  mother  dying  the  April  before,  had  not  the  fatisfadlion  of  feeing  her  fon  thus  fixed  in 
a  fituation  which  was  probably  the  height  of  her  ambition.  Yet  his  irreproachable  conduct  as  a  col 
legiate,  his  great  proficiency  as  a  fcholar,  and  his  lifing  reputation  as  a  poet,  muft  have  fufficiently 
removed  her  fears  concerning  his  future  advancement.  To  her,  and  indeed  to  both  his  parents,  he 
leems  always  to  have  born  the  trueft  filial  affection,  as  appears  from  the  firft  of  his  e  imiolary  poems 
To  the  Honourable  Charles  Tovmfljend,  and  the  Verfes  to  bit  Mother,  on  ber  Birth-day,  which  place 
his  moral  qualities  in  a  pleafing  light.  A  mother  who  imprefled  upon  her  fon  that  early  fenfe  of  a. 
God  and  a  providence,  which  he  retained  through  life,  aftbrJs  an  example  worthy  of  imitation. 

In  1743,  he  publifhed  Atyi  and  Adraftus,  a  pleafing  and  pathetic  tale,  taken  from  Herodotus, 
in  which,  with  equal  judgment,  though  not  with  equal  force,  he  copied  the  narrative  ftyle  of  Dry- 
Jen,  in  his  "  Fables." 

The  fame  year,  he  published  an  epiftle  in  the  manner  of  Ovid,  from  Ann  Btcllen  to  Henry  the 
Eighth,  in  which,  though  he  made  a  judicious  ufe  of  the  queen's  original  letter,  and  in  his  own  ad- 
ditions  preferved  a  true  characterise  unity  with  it,  yet  it  cannot  with  juftice  be  ranked  high 
among  the  numerous  productions  of  this  kind. 

His  next  poem  was  his  Effay  on  Ridicule,  which  aifo  appeared  in  1 743.  This  is  a  ftudied  per. 
formance,  the  parts  of  it  put  together  with  much  care,  and  that  chain  of  reafoning  preferved 
in  it,  which  the  fubject  feemed  to  demand.  In  the  edition  1774,  fome  lines  at  the  conclufion  of 
the  poem,  which  he  thought  authorized  too  free  a  ufe  of  this  talent,  are  omitted.  In  its  firil  ilate, 
he  had  neither  mentioned  the  name  of  Swift  nor  of  Pope  publicly,  becaufe  he  did  not  think  either 
of  them  had  employed  it  with  fufficient  referre.  Yet  he  had  there  held  Lucian,  Cervantes,  and 
Addifon  as  legitimate  models.  But  in  the  laft  edition,  the  palm  of  juft  ridicule  is  given  to  Addi- 
ion  alone. 

The  publication  of  this  poem  was  foon  after  followed  by  Nobility,  an  Epijttc  to  the  Earl  of  AJb- 
turnham,  written  alfo  in  happy  imitation  of  Pope's  manner.  This  poem,  for  what  reafon  is  not 
known,  he  did  not  infert  in 'either  of  the  editions  of  his  works. 

During  the  time  of  his  being  an  under  graduate,  he  lived  a  very  ftudious  life,  obferving  the 
itri<5left  frugality  poffible,  that  he  might  be  the  lefs  burder.foaje  to  an  affectionate  mother.  After 
taking  a  very  creditable  degree,  and  being  emancipated  from  thole  mathematical  ftudies  for  whiqh 
young  men  of  his  tribe  feldom  have  much  relifh,  he  wrote  rapidly,  though  not  carelefsly,  for  the 
prefs;  but  this  rapidity,  as  it  did  not  continue  through  life,  prob.tbly  arofe  at  the  time,  rather 
irom  A  laudable  defire  of  felf-maintenance,  than  any  undue  eagerncfs  for  poetical  fame. 

Poflelled  of  a  fellowlhip,  it  was  now  his  intention  to  take  orders,  and  with  that  view,  he  prepar 
ed  himfelf  for  the  church;  but  fhortly  afterwards,  a  circumftance  occurred,  which  led  him  to  defer 
putting  this  defign  into  practice,  and  in  the  end  occafijned  his  relinquiming  the  idea  altogether. 

The  late  Earl  of  Jerfey  was  making  inquiries  after  a  proper  perfon  to  take  the  private  tuition  of 
his  fecond  fon,  now  become  his  only  hope,  from  the  death  of  his  elder  brother ;  on  which  account  pro- 
bably  he  durft  not  truft  him  to  the  dangers  of  a  public  education,  as  his  conftitution  appeared  t« 
toe  very  delicate.  Fortunately  for  the  young  Vifcou.it,  Whitehead  war-  recommended  to  his  -afher, 
Vy  Mr.  Cooimiffary  Graves,  as  a  perfon  fully  qualified  for  this  important  charge.  His  recommends., 

5 


5^4  THE  LIFE   OF  W.  WHITEHEAD. 

tion  was  fuccefsful ;  and  Whitehead,  when  the  offer  was  made,  did  not  hefitate  to  accept  it.  Ha 
therefore,  in  1745,  removed  to  the  Earl's  home  in  London,  where  he  was  placed  upon  the  moft  li 
beral  footing.  He  had  alfo  the  care  of  a  young  friend  of  the  family,  now  General  Stephens,  who  was' 
brought  up  with  Lord  Villiers,  as  the  companion  of  his  ftudies. 

At  Michaelmas  1746,  he  refigned  his  fellowfhip,  in  compliance  with  Lord  Jerfey's  inclination, 
who  wifhed  him,  while  he  continued  in  his  family,  not  to  take  orders,  which  the  ftatutes  of  Clare- 
hall  would  have  obliged  him  to  do. 

Havirg  now  many  intervals  of  leifure  for  his  own  favourite  ftudies,  he  employed  himfelf  alraoft 
entirely  in  dramatic  compofition?.  He  fhowed  an  early  talent,  not  only  for  writing  in  that  way, 
but  for  acting.  On  his  coming  to  town,  he  wrote  a  ballad  farce,  intituled  The  Edinburgh  Ball, 
in  which  the  young  Pretender  is  the  principal  character.  It  was  not  rt  prefented,  and  is  flill  in  MS. 

But  he  foon  attempted  highei  thin  ns,  and  began  a  regular  tragedy,  called  the  Roman  Father, 
on  the  fubject  of  Corneille's  "Horace/'  which  was  produced  on  the  ftage  at  Drury-Lane,  Febru- 
ary  24.  1750,  and  obtained  the  juft  approbation  of  repeated  and  numerous  audiences.  He  infcrib- 
ed  it,  when  printed,  to  the  Honourable  Thomas  Villiers,  afterwards  Earl  of  Clarendon.  It  has 
beenfo  frequently  exhibited  with  arpinufe,  and  has  fhown  fo  many  actors  and  actreffes  to  advan 
tage,  that  it  is  almoft  unneceffary  to  fay  any  thing  more  concerning  it,  than  that  it  furely  is  a  great 
improvement  on  one  of  the  great  Corneille's  bed  tragedies,  and  may  be  ranked  among  the  beft  of 
the  dramatic  pieces  of  this  age.  Yet  it  is  an  improvement  of  Corneille's  play  only.  The  radical 
defect  of  the  ftory  is  not  absolutely  removed ;  and  after  the  Curiatii  are  killed,  the  fable  ftill 
drags,  yet  not  in  any  degree  as  it  does  in  the  French  tragedy.  With  refpect  to  the  unity  of 
action  and  of  time,  the  piece  is  perfect ;  but  with  refpect  to  the  unity  of  place,  it  is  unneceflarily 
defective.  In  point  of  character,  there  is  a  variety  and  difcrimination  truly  laudable  ;  and  in  point 
of  ftyle,  confidered  only  with  refpect  to  its  effect  upon  the  ftage,  it  is  well  calculated  for  the  ac 
tor's  delivery.  It  is  not  perhaps  fufficieutly  elevated  for  the  clofet ;  but  there  are,  in  general,  more 
poetical  beauties  in  his  dramatic  verfe,  than  in  that  of  Corneille 

In  1751,  he  publifhed  his  Hymn  to  the  Nymph  of  Brijlol  Spring,  written  in  the  manner  of  thofe 
claflical  addrefies  to  heathen  divinities,  of  which  the  hymns  of  Homer  and  Callimachus  are  the  ar- 
chitypes.  This  poem  is  eflentially  different  in  point  of  rtyle  and  manner  from  any  of  his  other  pro 
ductions.  The  frequent  Summer  excursions  which  he  made  to  Briftol,  with  the  Earl  of  Jerfey 
arid  his  lady,  furnifhed  him  with  the  fubje<fl ;  and  the  tranilations  of  Prior,  as  well  as  the  poems 
of  Armftrong  and  Ak?nfide,  then  in  general  eftimation,  directed  his  talre  to  the  manner  in  which 
that  fubject  might  belt  be  treated. 

He  had  before  written  a  little  fanciful  burlefque  poem,  intituled  The  Sweepers,  which  has  left 
of  parody,  and  more  of  invention  than  the  '*  Splendid  Shilling"  of  Philips.  In  this  ludicrous,  and 
the  other  ferious  poem,  he  fiiows  himfelf  poffefled  of  an  ear  well-attuned  to  that  variety  of  paufe 
and  of  cadence,  which  are  as  efTeiUial  to  the  ftructure  of  blank  verfe  as  rhyme  itfelf  is  to  that  fpecies 
of  heroic  numbers,  to  which  it  gives  its  name. 

The  fame  year,  he  w.rote  the  beautiful  ftanzas  on  Friend/bip,  to  a  friend1  who  had  blamed  him 
for  leading  a  dependent  life,  and  for  not  taking  orders,  or  entering  upon  fome  ftated  profeffion. 
This  delicate  poem  contains  Ins  own  vindication,  and  is  written  with  all  the  carelefs  eafe,  but  with 
more  of  elegance  than  we  ufualiy  find  in  fimilar  prolufions  of  Prior.  It  paints,  in  amiable  colours, 
the  character  and  feelings  ot  the  writer,  which  gives  it  a  charm  fuperior  even  to  the  fingular  feli 
city  of  its  diction.  Yet  this  latter  quality  mu.t  ever  fecure  it  the  approbation  of  all  thofe  readers, 
who  can  admire  pleating  fentiments,  expreffed  with  the  pureft  fimplicity. 

Many  other  little  eputolary  compofitions  flowed  with  equal  eafer  from  his  pen  at  this  period, 
fuch  as  the  Epiftles  to  Mr.  Cambridge,  Mr.  Garrick,  and  Dr.  Hoadly,  and  ibme  Tales,  in  the 
manner  of  Fontaine  and  Gay. 

When  Moore  began  "  The  World,"  in  1753,  Whitehead,  among  others,  gave  his  affiftance, 
ar.d  contributed  the  izth,  lyth,  and  5§th  numbers. 

In  1754.  he  collcdled  his  works  into  a  volume,  i  zmo,  among  which  he  inferted  hi»  Fatal  Con- 
ftancy,  or  Love  in  Tears,  a  fketch  of  a  tragedy  in  the  high  heroic  tafte,  which  made  part  of  Foote's 
fa/ce  of  "  The  Diverfions  of  the  Morning.*' 


THE  LIFE  OF   W.  WHITEHEAD.  895 

At  the  time  of  arranging  that  volume,  he  was  engaged  in  preparing  for  the  ftage  his  tragedy  of 
Cretifa,  which  was  exhibited  at  Drury-Lane  Theatre,  April  3o.  1754,  vf'nh  considerable  applaufe, 
though  not  fo  much  as  it  merited.  He  infcribed  it,  when  printed,  to  Lord  Villiers,  now  Earl  of 
Jerfey.  It  mowed  the  abilities  of  his  favourite  actrefs,  Mrs.  Pritchard,  \vlio  performed  the  part 
of  Creufa  to  great  advantage  ;  and  as  Garrick  and  MofTop  aifo  took  parts  in  it,  the  performance 
was  fo  perfect,  that  it  was  hardly  poflible  for  it  not  to  fucceed  in  the  reprefentation ;  yet  it  has 
feldom  been  revived,  though  it  (hows  the  dramatic  powers  of  Whitehead  to  more  advantage  than, 
the  Roman  Father,  which  takes  its  turn  in  the  courfe  of  theatrical  exhibitions.  The  play  is  found 
ed  on  the  Ion  of  Euripides,  but  the  plot  is  extremely  heightened,  and  admirably  conducted  ;  nor 
has  there  perhaps  ever  been  a  more  genuine  and  native  fimplicity  introduced  into  dramatic  writing 
than  that  of  HyJJtts,  bred  up  in  the  fervice  of  the  gods,  and  Kept  unacquainted  with  the  vices  of 
mankind.  Whoever  compares  the  two  dramas,  will  readily  allow,  that  to  alter  a  ftory  of  fo  very 
fabulous  a  kind,  in  which  the  intervention  of  Pagandivinities  appear  fo  necefiary ,  into  a  probable  action, 
and  alfo  where  a  connected  train  of  natural  circumftances  refulting  one  from  another,  leads  to  an 
affecting  cataftrophe,  muft  have  been  a  work  of  extreme  difficulty.  This  Whitehead  has  very  fuccefs- 
fully  achieved.  There  is  hardly  a  {ingle  tragedy  of  Englifh  manufacture  in  which  the  three  unities 
are  more  accurately  obferved.  The  language  of  Crct/fa  is  alfo  more  elevated  than  that  of  the  Roman 
Father ;  the  cataftrophe  refults  naturally  from  the  action  that  precedes  it,  but  it  does  not  fatisfy.  The 
crime  of  the  queen,  as  (he  fo  very  unwillingly  confents  to  the  poifoning  of  HyJ/us,  feems  hardly  great 
enough  to  merit  capital  puniftiment.  Euripides,  who  knew  her  much  more  criminal,  fuffers  her  to  exift 
Jo  the  end,  and  by  making  Ion  attempt  to  avenge  on  his  unknown  mother  the  crime  (he  had  been 
guilty  of,  in  attempting  to  poifon  him,  her  unknown  fon,  produces  an  incident  truly  theatrical. 
Whitehead,  by  not  admitting  this  double  project  of  parracide  into  his  plan,  has  perhaps  decreafed  the 
theatrical  effect,  of  which  the  Greek  poet  had  furniflied  him  with  the  example,  and  which,  had  he 
improved  upon  it,  as  he  has  on  all  the  other  incidents  of  the  Ion,  might  have  made  the  laft  act  much, 
more  perfect.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  for  this  purpofe,  the  preceding  plot  of  the  whole  piece 
nmft  have  been  differently  conftituted. 

The  exhibition  of  this  play  was  hardly  over,  before  he  was  called  upon  to  attend  his  pupil  and 
Lord  Vifcount  Nuneham,  fon  to  Earl  Harcourt,  in  their  travels,  as  their  joint  governor.  The  two 
young  noblemen  were  nearly  of  the  fame  age.  They  had  been  intimate  from  their  infancy.  He 
•was  therefore  as  well  acquainted  with  the  pleafing  temper  and  difpofition  of  the  other  lord  as  of 
him  whofe  education  he  had  more  immediately  fuperintended  ;  and  his  own  happy  art  of  making 
instruction  an  amuferoent,  had  fo  won  on  the  affections  of  them  both,  that  they  felicitated  them- 
felves  mutually  on  his  being  appointed  their  joint  governor. 

In  June  1754,  they  left  England  under  his  cnre,  and  pa(Tmg  through  Flanders,  refided  the  reft  of 
the  Summer  at  Rheims,  in  order  to  habituate  themfelves  to  the  French  language,  and  then  remov 
ing  to  Leipfic,  pafled  feven,months  there,  for  the  purpofe  of  ftudying  the  Droit  Publique,* under  the 
famous  Profeflbr  Mafcow,  whom  they  found  in  a  ftate  of  dotage,  without  being  quite  incapacitated 
from  reading  his  lectures. 

In  the  following  Spring  they  proceeded  to  Drefden,  and  after  vifiting  that,  and  moft  of  the  other 
German  courts,  repaired  to  Hanover  intheSummer  1755,31  the  time  whenGeorgell.  paid  his  laft  vifit 
to  his  electorate.  There  Whitehead  had  the  pleafure  of  meeting  his  friend  Mr.  Mafon,  who  had  then 
lately  taken  orders,  and  attended  the  Earl  of  Holderneffe,  the  Secretary  of  State,  as  Ws  domeftic  chap 
lain.  His  elegant  expoftulation  To  Mr. Mafon  took  its  rife  at  this  place,  from  certain  amicable  alterca 
tions  which  they  there  had,  on  the  fubjeil  of  a  public  and  retired  life,  to  the  latter  of  which  Mr. 
Mafon's  difpofition  appeared  to  lean  more  than  he  thought  confuted  with  the  views  of  advancement 
which  then  feemed  to  open  before  him. 

Having  continued  at  Hanover  the  greateft  part  of  the  Summer,  he  proceeded  with  his  pupils  to 
Vienna,  and  from  thence  to  Italy.  On  their  return  homeward,  they  crofied  the  Alps,  and  pafietl 
through  Switzerland,  Germany,  and  Holland,  being  prevented  from  vifiting  France  by  the  decla- 
jation  of  war,  and  landed  at  Harwich  in  September  1756. 

In  the  courfe  of  fo  complete  a  tour,  a  great  psrt  of  which  led  through  claffic  ground,  he  commu-. 
jucated  to  his  friends  at  home  many  curious  obfervations  OH  the  countries  through  which  he  travel- 


jj5  THE   LIFE  OF   W. .  W  HITEH  EAD. 

led.  A  few  of  hit  letters  from  Rome  and  elfcwhere,  are  in  the  pofleffion  of  Mr.  Mafcm  and  Mf. 
Wright,  redlor  of  Bircliin  in  Yorkfliire,  with  whom  he  fpent  feveral  of  his  college  vacations,  and 
to  whom  he  addrefled  many  of  his  fmaller  poems ;  and  the  executors  of  the  late  Dr.  Goddard,  mafter 
of  Clare-Hall,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sanderfon  of  Haflemere,  have  many  more. 

That  his  mufe,  now  in  her  fulled  vigour,  frequently  exerted  herfelf,  his  ftriking  Ode  to  the 
Tiber,  and  his  fix  Elfgies  addrefled  to  his  two  noble  pupils,  with  him,  and  his  more  particular  friends 
at  home,  Mr.  Wright,  Mr.  Sanderfon,  &cc.  fufikiently  teftify.  The  fublime  fcenes  through  which 
be  pafled,  and  the  grand  hiftorical  events  which  they  recalled  to  his  memory,  generally  furniftied 
the  fubjecl;  and  as  they  were  executed  en  the  fpot,  they  are  more  replete  with  piclurefque  imagery, 
than  any  other  of  his  compoGtions.  They  were  published  in  February  1757,  under  the  title  of; 
Elegies,  with  an  Ode  to  the  Tiber,  410,  and  received  with  approbation  proportioned  to  their  merit. 

During  his  abfence,  he  had  received  the  badges  of  Secretary  and  Regifter  of  the  order  of  the  Bath, 
procured  for  him  by  the  intereft  of  Lady  Jeriey,  through  the  mediation  of  her  relation,  the  Du- 
chefsof  Newcaftle;  and  in  1757,  his  finances  were  farther  improved  by  the  appointment  of  Poet 
Laureat,  on  the  death  of  Gibber,  upon  the  nomination  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  as  Lord  Cham-. 
fcerlaiu.  He  has  himfelf  faid  on  this  appointment,  in  his  Charge  t»  the  Poets,  that 
Unafk'd  it  came,  and  from  a  friend  unknown. 

Mr.  Mafon<  in  his "  Memoirs  of  Gray,"  has  acquainted  the  public,  that  the  place  was  before  offered 
to  Gray,  by  his  mediation,  with  permiffion  to  hold  it  as  a  mere  iinecure.  This  was  not  the  cafe 
•when  it  was  given  to  Whitehead,  and  "  I  have  often,"  fays  Mr.  Mafon,  "  confidered  why,  as  the 
lite  king  would  readily  have  difpenfed  with  hearing  mafu,  for  which  he  had  no  ear,  and  poetry, 
for  which  he  had  no  tafte." 

When  Whitehead  had  accepted  the  laurel  without  fuch  permiffion,  Mr.  Mafon  advifcd  him  to 
employ  a  deputy  to  write  his  annual  odes,  and  referve  his  own  pen  for  certain  great  occafions  that 
might  occur,  £uch  as  a  peace  or  a  marriage,  and  then  to  addrtfs  his  royal  matter  with  fome  ftudied 
•de  or  epiftle,  as  Boiieau  and  Racine  had  done  in  France,  for  their  penfions. 

This  advice  was^not  attended  to  by  his  friend.     He  fet  himfelf  to  his  periodical  tafk,  with  the  • 
zeal  of  a  perfon  who  wifhed  to  retrieve  the  honours  of  (hat  laurel,  which  came  to  him  from  the  head, 
•f  Gibber,  in  a  very  fhrivelled,  or  rather  blafted  ftate. 

His  firft  Ode  for  his  My'efty's  Birth-Day,  November  10.  1758,  was  calculated  from  the  heroic 
genealogy  that  it  contained,  to  be  peculiarly  agreeable  to  the  monarch  for  whofe  birth-day  it  was 
written ;  and  its  poetical  merit  had  the  very  juft  approbation  of  Gray,  and  other  good  judges. 

The  laurel  was  faid  by  the  ancients  to  have  the  power  of  fcreening  thofe  under  its  (hade  from 
thunder;  yet  it  cannot  defend  modern  laureats  from  the  artillery  of  their  contemporaries.  After 
\Vhitehcad  had  accepted  of  this  office,  he  received  much  illiberal  treatment  during  the  reft  of  his 
life,  from  the  little  fry  of  his  own  profeffion,  who  were  fond  of  having  a  lick  at  the  laureat.  What 
lie  thought  of  thefe  "  poets,  who  were  mean  enough  to  envy  even  a  poet  laureat,"  may  be  learned 
from  his  Pathetic  Apology  for  ail  Laureats,  paft,  prefent,  and  to.  conie,  which  he  wrote  fome 
?ears  before  his  death,  for  the  amufement  of  a  few  friends.  By  the  motto  Veniant  ad.  Ctefaris  aures, 
he  feems  to  have  wiflied  it  might  reach  the  royal  ear. 

On  his  return  to  England,  Lord  Jerfey  prefled  him  ftrongly  to  continue  in  his  family ;  an  invita 
tion  which  Whitehead  readily  accepted.  Lord  Harcourt  gave  him  alfo  a  general  invitation  to  his 
table  in  town,  and  to  his  feat  in  the  country  ;  and  his  pupils,  who  had  now  entirely  funk  the  idea 
of  their  governor  in  the  more  agreeable  one  of  their  friend,  fliaived  him  conftantly  fuch  fincete 
marks  of  affeclion,  as  greatly  increafed  the  felicity  of  his  fyuation. 

He  refided  in  this  family  fourteen  years,  during  which,  lie  found  opportunities  of  leifure  to  do 
more  in  the  literary  way  than  merely  write  official  odes. 

In  1761,  he  made  his  firft  attempt  in  comedy,  and  brought  upon  the  ftage  at  Drury-Lane  The 
School  for  Lovers,  a  comedy,  which  had  its  competent  run,  as  to  nights  of  representation,  and  re. 
ceived  a  juft  tribute  of  applaufe  from  the  judicious  few.  It  is  formed  on  a  plan  of  Fontenelie's,  ne 
ver  intended  for  the  ftage,  and  printed  in  the  eighth  volume  of  his  wprks,  under  the  title  of  LK 
and  ir.fcnbed  To  his  Memory,  by  a  Lover  of  Simplicity.  The  idea  which  Fontenclle 


THE   LIFE   OF   W    WHITEHEAD.  85? 

had  conceived  of  enlarging  the  provinces  of  the  drama,  is  explained  and  controverted  with  much 
accuracy  of  cnticifm,  by  Dr.  Hurd,  in  the  fecond  differtation,  annexed  to  his  "  Commentaries  on  Ho- 
race."  What  fpecies  of  drama  the  School  for  Lovers  ought  to  be  placed  in,  is  fomewhat  difficult 
to  determine,  (ince,  though  it  is  ftyled  a  comedy,  the  riiible  faculties  have  much  lefs  oppor 
tunity  of  exertion  than  the  tender  feelings  of  the  heart;  and  the  cataftrophe,  though  happy  in  the 
main,  and  luitable  to  poetical  juftice,  is  not  completely  fo,  fince  two  amiable  characters.  Selmour 
anAAraminta,  are  left,  the  one  entirely  unprovided  for,  and  the  other  in  a  fituation  far  from  agreeable. 
What  he,  however,  feems  to  have  principally  aimed  at,  delicacy,  fentiment,  and  the  confequence  of 
inftruction  in  the  conduct  of  a  generous  and  well-placed  paliion,  he  has  undoubtedly  moft  eminently 
fucceeded  in.  His  Cclia,  and  Sir  John  Dorilant,  efpecially  the  latter,  are  characters  moft  perfectly 
amiable,  and  worthy  of  imitation.  The  eafe  and  purity  of  the  dialogue,  the  incidents  which  anfe  fo 
naturally,  one  from  the  other,  the  delicate  markings  of  the  different  characters,  and  the  ..rtful  ar 
rangement  of  the  fcenes,  contribute  to  give  this  play  a  high  ftation  in  the  lilt  of  our  genteel  comedies  ; 
at  the  fame  time  that  its  want  of  fmart  repartee  and  broad  humour,  will  ever  prevent  it  from  being 
much  relifhed  by  a  mixed  audience.  This  want  he  pofieffed  a  peculiar  talent  of  fupplying,  had  he 
thought  the  (implicity  of  his  play  would  not  have  been  injured  by  it.  H€  was  afraid  to  mingle 
with  comedy,  what  he  thought  belonged  to  the  lower  fpecies  of  the  drama,  farce ;  and  chofe  ra 
ther  to  tread  in  the  fteps  of  Terence  than  of  Moliere.  They  who  put  this  play  on  a  footing 
with  the  Drames  of  France,  and  the  fentimental  comedies  in  England  which  have  fucceeded  it, 
will  do  Whitehead  much  injuftice. 

The  lame  year,  1762,  he  publiflied  his  Charge  to  the  Potts,  4to,  in  which,  as  laureat,  he  lu- 
dicrouily  aflumes  the  digniried  mode  of  a  bifhop,  giving  his  vifitorial  inftruttions  to  his  clergy.  The 
idea  was  new,  pregnant  with  grave  humour,  and  executed  fo  fuccefsfully,  that  even  the  egotifms 
neceflary  to-the  fubjecl,  are  among  the  moft  pleafing  parts  of  the  poem.  Replete  with  good  fenfe 
and  good  taile,  it  is  ftill  more  to  be  admired  for  the  amiable  pidlure  which  it  gives  of  his  own 
mind,  and  his  readinefs  to  be  pleafed  by  poets  of  very  different  abilities,  provided  thofe  abilities 
were  employed  on  fubjects  that  fuited  them ;  and  for  expofing  that  faftidious  mode  of  criticifm 
which  admits  no  poems  to  have  any  merit,  except  that  which  accords  with  fome  particular  precon 
ceived  idea  of  excellence  which  it  has  let  up  as  its  exclufive  criterion. 

Notwithftanding  this  liberal  turn  of  the  Charge,  its  publication  brought  upon  him  the  vindic 
tive  refentmcnt  of  Churchill,  who  had  juft  about  the  time  attracted  the  public  notice,  by  his  fa- 
tire,  intituled  The  Roftiad.  He  attacked  the  laureat  almoft  in  every  one  of  thofe  hafty  produc 
tions  with  which  he  entertained  the  town,  with  an  imjuftinable  feverity. 

To  have  retaliated,  was  as  abhorrent  to  his  natural  temper,  as  contradictory  to  that  precept  of 
"  keeping  the  peace,"  which  in  his  Charge,  he  had  called  "  his  firll  and  laft  advice."  Among 
his  unrimfhed  fragments,  however,  there  are  fome  Verfes,  in  which  he  mentions  his  poetical  ene 
my.  They  certainly  had  not  his  laft  corrections ;  but  they  come  from  a  good  heart,  willing  to 
commend'  whatever  was  commendable  in  Churchill's  talents  for  ftrong  expreffion  and  forcible 
imagery  ;  at  the  fame  time,  they  jurtly  reprobate  his  mifufe  of  thofe  talents. 

Such  at  the  time  was  the  popularity  of  Churchill,  that  his  abufe  of  Whitehead  tended  to 
lower  his  poetical  merit  fo  much  with  the  town,  that  Garrick  would  not  venture  to  bring  on  a  newr 
tragedy  of  his,  which  a  little  time  after  he  offered  to  his  ftage.  The  public,  therefore,  for  feveral 
years,  law  nothing  more  that  came  from  his  pen,  but  thofe  half-yearly  odes  which  his  office  requir 
ed  him  to  write. 

On  the  death  of  the  late  Earl  of  Jerfey,  in  Augu ft  17 69,  he  obtained  an  unwilling  permiffion  from 
his  pupil,  the  prefent  Earl  of  Jerfey,  to  remove  to  private  lodgings ;  but  he  ftill  confidered  him- 
lelf  as  a  daily-invited  gueft  to  his  table  in  town;  and,  during  the  reft  of  his  life,  he  divided  his  Sum 
mers  between  Middieton  and  Nuneham. 

In  1770,  he  made  a  prefent  of  his  farce,  called  The  Trip  to  Scotland,  to  Garrick,  on  condition 
of  his  producing  it  without  his  name.  This  was  done  ;  and  it  appeared  on  the  Drury-Lane  ftage 
ivith  the  greateft  advantage  of  good  acting,  and  met  with  deferved  applaufe.  It  fliows  that  White* 

VOL.  XI.  3  L 


fyS  THE   LITE   OF   W.  WHITEHEAD. 

head  had  powers  to  write  equally  well  in  the  manner  of  Moliere,  as  of  Terence.  The  characters 
are  not  more  overcharged  in  order  to  excite  ridicule,  than  they  are  found  to  be  in  the, be  ft  moder* 
comedies,  both  in  French  and  Englifti ;  for  furely  his  old  Grijkin  is  not  fo  much  filled  with  farcical 
humour  as  the  "  Forefight"  and  "  Fondlewife"  of  Congreve.  Indeed,  had  he  extended  his  plan  to 
five  acts,  and  exiled  his  Cupid,  as  too  mythological  a  perfonage,  it  would  have  been  deemed  a  good" 
comedy.  As  it  Hands,  it  is  perhaps  the  only  thing  of  the  kind  that  can  be  put  in  competition  with  the 
charming  petite  pieces  of  Marivaux. 

In  1774,  he  collected  and  publiflie^  all  his  works,  under  the  title  of  Plays  and  Poems,  in  two 
volumes,  giving  the  Charge  to  ike  Poets,  in  the  concluding  pages.  But  though  poffibly,  after  he  had 
arranged  thefe  two  volumes  he  might  think  he  had  bid  adieu  to  poetical  competition?,  fo  far  as  his  office 
of  laureat  might  permit ;  yet  he  had  obtained,  by  long  practice,  fo  great  a  facility  of  verfification, 
and  had  always  taken  fo  much  pleafure  in  it,  that  he  could  .not  help  occafionally  throwing  out  his 
thoughts  upon  paper,  and  clothing  them  in  appropriate  verfe. 

In  1776,  he  publilhed,  without  a  name,  his  very  pleafing  little  poem,  intituled  Variety,  a  Tale  for  \ 
Married  People,  4to,  which  was  fo  well  received,  that  it  fpeedily  ran  through  five  editions. 

In  1777,  he  published  The  Goafs  Beard,  a  Fable,  4to,  which,  though  a  more  ftudicd  compofi 
tion,  and  a  molt  delicate  fatire  on  the  times,  did  not  fo  generally  pleafe,  though  it  had  alfo  a  very 
confiderable  fale.  It  is  founded  on  the  I4th  fable  of  the  4th  book  ofPhtedrus.  From  this  fable,  theEnglilh 
Phardrus  (or  rather  Fontaine,  for  the  fable  is  more  in  his  manner),  has  given  the  feses  many  inge 
nious  documents.  After  an  oblique  reflection  on  the  Bucolics  of  Virgil,  intimating  that  the  poet 
has  affigned  to  Mantua,  the  fcenery  of  Naples,  he  reprefents  a  coterie  of  the  goats  addreffing  Jupi 
ter,  to  render  them  equal  to  the  males,  by  honouring  their  chins  with  a  beard.  Jupiter  in  a  frolic 
mood"grants  their  petition,  which  occafions  a  remonftrance  from  the  goat erie  of  males,  and  obliges 
the  god  to  convene  the  Jlatfs,  in  order  to  determine  the  claims  of  both  fexes.  The  majority  of  his 
precepts  are  Icfs  applicable  to  the  males  than  to  the  females.  His'ftrictures  on  the  modifh  deport 
ment  of  the  fexes,  are  a  jult,  though  fsvere  comment  on  real  life. 

the  prefent  page 
The  rtfufe  of  an  iron  age,  Sec. 

This  lively  fable  occafioned  an  ill-natured  and  fatirical  attack  on  the  laureat,  in  a  fable,  intituled 
"The  Afies  Ears,  addrefled  to  the  Author  of  The  Goat's  Beard"  4to,  1777,  which  is  not,  how 
ever,  void  of  pleafantry. 

The  fame  year,  he  published  a  very  elegant  fatire  on  the  fafhionable  excefles  and  whimfies  of  fe 
male  drefs,  intituled  Venus  attiring  the  Graces,  410,  addrefled  to  the  Duchefs  of  Queenfberry, 
w  hich  was  the  laft  performance,  except  his  annual  odes,  he  gave  to  the  world.  Had  he  poffefled 
the  powers  of  Mr.  Bunbury's  pencil,  he  would  perhaps  have  given  his  idea  to  the  public  rather 
through  the  medium  of  the  rolling,  than  the  printing  frefs  ;  in  its  prefent  ftate,  humorous  as  it  is, 
the  comic  painter  would  be  its  beft  commentator. 

His  health  now  began  vifibly  to  decline.  He  had  almoft  through  fife  been  fubject  to  palpitations 
of  the  heart,  and  occafional  difficulty  of  refpiration,  which  the  heavy  atmofphere  of  the  town  in  win 
ter  always  augmented  ;  yet  there,  partly  from  habit,  and  ftill  more  from  a  defire  of  being  near 
thofe  whom  he  chiefly  refpected,  he  chofe,  in  that  feafon,  conftantly  to  refide. 

In  the  Spring  of  1785,  a  cold,  accompanied  with  a  cough,  affected  his  breaft  fo  much,  that  it  con 
fined  him  at  home  for  fome  weeks,  though  it  was  by  no  means  fo  violent  as  to  hinder  him  purfuing 
his  united  amufements  of  reading  and  writing.  His  death,  happily  for  himfelf,  as  it  muft  be  for  all 
who  pafs  through  this  world,  in  the  fame  blamelefs  manner,  with  the  fame  confidence  in  their  God, 
and  with  the  fame  confidence  in  his  revealed  will,  fo  to  die,  "  was  fudden,  and  without  a  groan." 
A  few  hours  before  his  death,  Lord  Harcourt  repeating  his  conftant  morning  vifit  to  him,  found  him 
reviling  for  the  prefs,  a  paper  which  he  imagined  to  be  his  laft  Birth-day  Ode,  which  was  in  part 
fet  to  mufic,  but  not  performed.  That  day  at  noon,  finding  himfelf  difinclined  to  tafle  the  dinner 
his  fervant  brought  up,  he  defired  to  lean  upon  his  arm  from  the  table  to  his  bed,  and  in  that  mo 
ment  he  expired.  He  died  at  his  lodgings  in  Charles-Street,  Grofvenor-Square,  April  14.  1785,  ip 
the  yoth  year  of  bis  age ;  and  was  buried  in  South  Audley  Street  ChapeL 


THE  LIKE   OF  W.    WHITEHEAD.  890 

Some  years  before  his  death,  he  appointed  by  will,  his  friend  General  Stephens,  his  elecutor.  He 
left  behind  him  in  MS.  the  Tragedy  which  Garrick  did  not  venture  to  bring  on  the  ftage,  the  firft 
aft  of  an  Oedipus  ;  a*  imperfect  plan  of  a  tragedy  founded  on  the  hiftorical  part  of  Edward  the  Se 
cond's  rcfignation  of  the  crown  to  his  fon,  alfo  of  another  compofed  of  Spanifh  and  Moorifh  cha 
racters,  and  a  confiderable  quantity  of  mifcellaneous  pieces,  yet  but  few  which  he  has  tranfcribed 
in  fo  fair  a  manner  as  to  indicate  that  he  himl'elf  thought  them  finiflied ;  and  of  thefe  the  greater 
part  are  occafional  and  local  prolulions  of  his  j>en,  which  would  chiefly,  if  not  exclufively,  be  matter 
of  amuferaent  to  his  particular  friends,  more  immediately  connected  with  the  two  noble  families  in 
which  he  fo  long  reiided.  His  poems,  uncollected  by  himfelf,  together  with  three  fliort  unpublifhed 
pieces.  On  the  late  improvements  at  Nuneham  ;  On  the  Death  of  the  Hon.  Catherine  Venables  Vernon  ; 
The  Battle  of  ArgoedLlwyfain,  nine  of  his  "New  Tear  and  Birth-day  Odes,  from  June  1776  to  Jan. 
1785,  and  his  Obfervations  onthe  SbieIdofAfbiIlef,firfi  printed  in  Dodfley's  <lMufeum,"and  afterwards 
with  Pitt's  and  Warton's  tranflation  of  "  Virgil,"  were  formed  into  a  third  vplume  of  his  Works,  by 
Mr.  Mafon,  and  published  in  1788,  with  a  dedicatory  "  Sonnet"  to  the  Earl  of  Jerfey  and  Earl 
Harcourt,  and  "  Memoirs  of  IMS  Life  and  Writings,"  which  have  been  chiefly  fallowed  in  the  pre 
ceding  account.  , 

His  Poems,  including  all  his  annual  odes>  from  1758  to  1.785,  except  the  New-year  and  Birth 
day  odes,  for  1764,  and  the  New-year  odes,  for  1766,  1769,  and  17751  which  do  not  appear  in 
Dodfley's  "  Annual  Regifter,"  were  inferted  in  t;he  edition  of"  The  Er.glifli  Poets,"  1790,  and  are 
:  reprinted  in  the  prefent  collection,  with  the  addition  of  the  Vifion  of  Solomon ;  Verfes  to  his  Mother  ; 
A  Pathetic  Apology  for  all  Laureats ;  verfes  T»  Mr.  Stebbing,  and  fragments  On  Churchill,  col- 
lected  from  Mr.  Mafon's  "  Memoirs,"  &c. 

His  character,  which  has  few  prominent  feature*,  may  eafily  be  collected  from  this  account  of 
his  life.  He  appears  to  have  been  a  very  amiable  man,  and  lived  in  intimacy  with  the  great,  vir 
tuous,  carefled  and  refpected.  All  his  friends  bear  ample  teftimony  to  his  unaffected  piety,  un- 
blemimed  integrity,  engaging  politenefs,  inviolable  truth,  fteadiuefs  in  friendfhip,  and  the  unaf- 
fuminj  eafe  and  fprightlinefs  of  his  converfation.  He  was  a  man  of  good  breeding,  virtue,  and  hu 
manity. 

"  He  died,"  fays  Mr.  Mafon,  who  knew  him  well,  "  retaining  all  his  faculties  more  perfectly 
than  is  ufually  the  lot  of  thofe  who  live  to  fuch  an  age.  Of  thefe  his  memory  was  the  mod  remark 
able,  which  being  always  ftrong,  continued  to  that  late  period  with  no  diminution  of  rigour.  And 
as  his  reading  and  obfervation  had  been  far  more  extenfive  and  various  than  he  had  occafion  to  ex 
hibit  in  that  mode  of  writing  which  he  chiefly  employed  to  convey  his  fentiments;  this  accurate 
retention  of  what  he  had  by  ftudy  acquired,  made  him  a  living  library,  always  open  to  communi 
cate  its  treafures  to  his  acquaintance,  without  obtruding  itfelf  by  any  oftentatious  difplay,  or  aflumed 
luperiority." 

As  a  poet,  though  he  is  far  above  mediocrity,  yet  neither  his  genius  nor  his  writings  are  of  the 
moft  brilliant  or  interefting  kind.  He  is  characterized  by  elegance,  correctnefs,  and  eafe,  more 
than  by  energy,  enthufiafna  or  fublimity.  The  moft  prominent  feature  iu  his  poetry,  feems  an  in. 
nocent  and  pleafant  humour.  He  is  never  dull  or  abfurd  m  his  ferious  pieces  ;  his  tafte  and  his  judg 
ment  were  too  good  to  pardon  infipidity,  or  impropriety,  even  in  himfelf ;  but  there  is  certainly 
more  facility,  as  well  as  originality,  in  his  humorous,  than  his  ferious  pieces.  His  Elegies,  on  account 
of  the  affecting  andpenfive  caft  of  the  fentiments,  the  claffical  beauty  of  the  imagery,  the  fimplieity 
-  of  the  expreflion,  and  the  harmony  of  the  verification,  may  be  confidered  as  the  moft  univerfally 
interefting  of  his  compofitions.  Among  his  humourous  pieces,  Variety  is  a  firft-rate,  in  that  mode 
of  gay  and  eafy  corapofition  which  diftinguifhes  the  genius  of  Fontaine  and  Prior.  Of  his  Songs,  21: 
Be  lies  and  ye  Flirt  s,  &c.  has  obtained  the  greateft  popularity. 

The  principal  poems  which  he  himfelf  published,  have  been  already  diftinclly  ronfidered  in  the 
•rder  of  their  publication.  It  only  remains  to  give  fome  account  of  his  pofthumous  piece?. 

"  In  the  collection  of  poems,"  fays  Mr.  Mafon,  "  which  Mr.  Whitehead  printed  in  1774,  he 
thought  proper  to  felect  certain  of  his  New-year,  and  Birth-day  odes  for  republication.  Beginning 
therefore,  fiom  that  date,  I  hare  reviewed,  with  the  afiiftance  of  forae  friends,  whofe  tafte  in  lyric 
eompofition  I  could  depend  on,  all  that  he  wrote  afterwards,  and  thofe  which  we  beft  approved  we 


$03  THE   LIFE   OF   W.    WHITEHEAB. 

here  inferted.  In  this  review  it  is  to  be  noted  to  the  poet's  honour,  that  we  found  more  variety  of 
fentiment  and  expreffion,  than  could  well  be  expected  from  fuch  an  uniformity  of  fubjedl.  If  we 
lamented  the  necefiity  he  was  under  of  fo  frequently  adverting  to  the  war  with  America,  we  ge 
nerally  admired  his  delicate  manner  of  treating  it.  Should,  therefore,  the  Odts  here  reprinted  lead 
any  perfon  to  read  all  that  he  compofed,  in  compliance  with  the  forms  of  his  office  (and  all  are  to  be 
found  in  the  Annual  Regifter,  printed  by  Uodfley),  I  perfuade  myfejf  he  mutt  agree  with  me  in  think. 
ing,  that  no  court  poet  ever  had  fewer  courtly  Jiains,  and  that  his  page  is,  at  the  lealt,  as  white  at 


The  Odes,  felecled  by  Mr.  Mafan,  are  the  Birth-day  odes  for.  1776,  1777,  1778,  1781,  and  1784, 
and  the  New-year  odes  for  1779,  1783,  i;84>  and  1785.  The  odes  omitted  by  Mr.  Mafon,  and 
Whitehead  himfelf,  have  been  very  properly  collected  with  the  reft,  and  deferve  the  fame  com 
mendation.  Though  they  have  undergone  all  the  ufual  obloquy  of  i\jch  competitions,  there  is  cer 
tainly  in  them  more  deiicary  of  panegyric,  if  not  more  genius,  than  in  any  compofitions  of  the  kind 
that  can  be  found  from  Chaucer  to  Cibber.  If  they  are  not  equal  to  the  odes  of  Pindar,  they  are, 
not  ridiculous,  like  thofe  of  Shadwell  and  Cibber.  Their  annual  productions  rendered  the  laurel 
contemptible;  but  Whitehead,  as  Ophelia.  fays,  "  wears  his  rue  with  a  difference,  and  you  may  call 
it  Herb  o'  grace  on  Sundays.'''' 

The  copy  of  verfes  On  the  late  Improvements  at  Nuncham,  is  a  fportive  and  juft  eulogium  on  the 
place,  and  on  the  late  Mr-  Brown.  Though  the  perfonification  of  nature  has  been  common  to  fer 
•veral  poets,  when  they  meant  to  compliment  the  artift  that  rivalled  her,  yet  the  idea  of  making- 
her  behave  herfelf  like  a  modern  fine  lady,  muft  be  allowed  to  be  a  thought  very  bold,  and  truly 
original;  and  he  has  executed  it  with  much  genuine  hnmour.  As  an  epitaph,  the  lines  On  the 
Death  of  the  Hon.  Catherine  Venables  Vernon,  are  beautiful,  particularly  at  the  dofe,  in  the  jufti- 
fication  of  Providence.  The  Battle  of  Argoed  Ll-iuyfain,  is  a  tranflation  of  a  poem  of  the  Cambro- 
Britifla  bard,  Talieflin,  and  is  a  defcription  of  the  battle  of  Argoed  Llivyfain,  fought  about  the  year 
548,  by  Godden,  a  king  of  North  Britain,  and  Brien  Reged,  king  of  Cambria,  againft  Flamdwyn,  a 
Saxon  general,  fuppofed  to  be  Jdo,  king  of  Northumberland.  It  is  inferted  in  Jones's  "  Hiftorical 
Account  of  the  Welfli  Bards,"  publifhed  in  17^4,  and  is  thus  introduced  :  "  I  am  indebted  to  the 
obliging  difpofition,  and  undiminifhed  powers  of  Mr.  Whitehead,  for  the  following  faithful  and 
animated  verfion  of  this  valuable  antique."  The  verfion  is  wild,  fpirited,  and  characteristic  ;  but 
it  is  inferior  to  thofe  imitations  which  Gray  made  of  the  Scaldic  odes.  The  wild  mythology 
of  the  Edda,  to  which  they  perpetually  allude,  gives  them  a  charm  peculiar  to  themfelvess 
and  fets  them  above  what  he  himfelf  has  produced  from  Cambro-Britifh  originals, 


THE  WORKS  OF  W.  WHITEHEAD. 


POEM    S. 


THE  DANGER  OF  WRITING  VERSE. 

AN  EPISTLE.    1741. 

"  Quse  poterant  unquam  fatis  exnurgare  Cicutae, 
"  Ni  meliusdormireputem,  quam  fcribere  verfus?" 

H6R. 

You  afk  me,  Sir,  why  thus  by  phantoms  aw'd, 
J^fo  kind  occafion  tempts  the  rnufe  abroad  ? 
Why,  wheli  retirement  fooths  this  idle  art, 
To  fame  regardlefs  fleeps  the  youthful  heart  ? 

'Twould  wrortg  your  judgment,  iliould  I  fairly 

fay 

Diftruft  or  Weaknefs  caus'd  the  cold  delay  : 
Hint  the  fmall  diff'rence,  till  we  touch  the  lyre, 
'Twixt  real  genius  and  too  rtrongdefire  ; 
The  human  flips,  or  feemirig  flips  pretend, 
Which  roufe  the  critic,  but  efca'pe  the  friend  ; 
Nay  which,   though  dreadful  when  the  foe  pur- 

fues, 
You  pals,  and  fmile,  and  ftill  provoke  the  mufe. 

Yet,  fpite  of  all  you  think,  or  kindly  feign, 
My  hand  will  tremble  while  it  grat'ps  the  pen. 
For  not  in  this,  like  other  arts,  we  try 
Our  light  excurfiohs  in  a  fummer  Iky, 
No  calual  flights  the  dangerous  trade  admits; 
But  wits  once  authors,  are  for,ever  wits. 
The  fool  in  p'rofe,  like  earth's  unwieldy  fon, 
May  oft  rife  vig'rous,  though  he's  oft  o'erthrown  : 
One  dangerous  crifis  marks  our  rife  or  fall; 
By  all  we're  courted,  or  we're  fliunn'd  by  all. 

Will  it  avail,  that,  unmatur'd  by  years, 
My  eafy  numbers  pleas'd  your  partial  ears, 
If  now  condemn'd,  ev'n  where  he's  valu'd  moil, 
The  man  muft  fufi'er  if  the  poet's  loft ; 
For  wanting  wit,  be  totaliy  undone, 
And  barr'd  all  arts  for  having  fail'd  in  one. 
When  fears  like  tliefe  his  ferious  thoughts  engage, 
No  bugbear  phantom  curbs  the  poet's  rage. 
*  Tis  powerful  reafon  hctlds  the  ftreighten'd  rein, 
While  flutt'ring  fancy  to  the  diftant  plain 
Sends  a  long  look,  and  fpreads  her  wings  in  vain. 

But  grant  for  once,  th*  officipus  mule  has  flied 
Her  gentleft  influence  on  his  infant  head, 
Let  fears  lie  vanquifh'd,  and  refounding  fame 
Give  to  the  bellowing  blaft  the  poet's  name, 


sm,~l 
lin.  J 


And  fee  !  diftinguiih'd,  from  the  crowd  he  movM, 
Each  finger  marks  him,  and  each  eye  approves  ! 
Secure,  as  halcyons  brooding  o'er  the  deep, 
The  waves  roll  gently,  and  the  thunders  deep, 
Obfequious  nature  binds  the  tempeft's  wings, 
And  pleas'd  attention  liftens  while  he  fings! 

O  blilsful  ftate,  O  more  than  human  joy  ! 
What  (hafts  can  reach  him,  or  What  cares  annoy  ? 
What  cares,  my  friend  ?  why   all  that  man  caa 

know, 

Opprefs'd  with  real  or  with  fancy'd  Woe. 
Rude  to  the  world,  like  earth's  firit  lord  expell'd, 
To  climes  unknown,  form  Eden's  fafer  field  ; 
No  more  eternal  fprings  around  him  breathe, 
Black  air  fcowls  o'er  him,  deadly  damps  beneath; 
Nqw  muft  he  learn,  mifguided  youth,  to  bear 
Each  varying  feafon  of  the  poet's  year  : 
Flntt'ry'sfull  beam,  detraction's  wint'ry  ftore, 
The  frowns  of  fortune,  or  the  pride  of  pow'r. 
His  acts,  his  words,  his  thoughts  no  more  his  own, 
Each  folly  blazon'd,  and  each  frailty  known. 
Is  he  referv'd  ! — his  fenfe  is  fo  refin'd, 
It  ne'er  defcends  to  trifle  with  mankind. 
Open  and  free  ? — they  find  the  fecret  caufe 
Is  vanity;  he  courts  the  world's  applaufe. 
Nay,  though  he  fpeak  not,  fomething  ftill  is  fecn, 
Each  change  of  face  betrays  a  fault  within. 
If  grave,  'tis  fpleen  ;  he  fmiles  but  to  deride  ; 
And  downright  awkwardnefs  in  him  is  pride. 
Thus  muit  he  fteer  through  fame's  uncertain  feas, 
Now  funk  by  cenfure,  and  now  puff'd  by  praife; 
Contempt  with  envy  ftrangely  mix'd  endure, 
Fear'd  where  carefs'd,  and  jealous,  though  fecure. 

One  fatal  rock  on  which  good  authors  fplit 
Is  thinking  all  mankind  muit  like  their  wit ; 
And  the  grand  bufiuefs  of  the  world  ftand  ftill 
To  liften  to  the  dictates  of  their  quill. 
Hurt  if  they  fail,  and  yet  how  few  fucceed  I 
What's  born  in  leifure  men  of  leifurc  read; 
And  half  of  thole  have  fome  peculiar  whim 
Their  teft  of  fenfe,  and  read  but  to  condemn. 

Befules,  on  parties  now  our  fame  depends, 
And  frowns  or  fmiles,  as  thefe  are  foes  or  friends. 
Wit,  judgment,  nature  join  ;  you  ftrive  in  vain» 
'Tis  keen  invective  ftamps  the  current  ftrain. 
Fix'd  to  one  fide  like  Homer's  gods  we  fight, 
Thefe  ajways  wrong,  and  thofe  for  ever  right. 

s L  'U 


THE  WORKS   OF  W.   WHITEHEAD. 


And  would  you  clioofe  to  fee  your  friend  refign'd 
Each  confcious  tie  which  guides  the  virtuous  mind, 
Embroil'd  in  factions,  hurl  with  dreaded  (kill 
The  random  vengeance  of  his  defp'rate  quill  ? 
'Gainft  pride  in  man  with  equal  pride  declaim, 
And  hide  ill-nature  under  virtue's  name  ? 
Or,"  deeply  vers'd  in  flattery's  wily  ways, 
Row  in  full  reams  of  undiftinguiih'd  praife  ? 
To  vice's  grave,  or  folly's  bud  bequeath 
The  bluftiing  trophy,  and  indignant  wreath  ? 
*  Like  Egypt's  prjeds,  bid  endlefs  temples  rife, 
And  people  with  earth's  pefts  th'  offended  fldes? 

The  mufe  of  old  her  native  freedom  knew, 
And  wild  in  air  the  fportive  wand'rer  flew ; 
On  worth  alone  her  bays  eternal  ttrow'd, 
And  found  the  hero,  ere  (he  hymn'd  the  god. 
Nor  lefs  the  chief  his  kind  fupport  return'd, 
No  drooping  mufe  her  flighted  labours  mourn'd ; 
But    ftretch'd  at  eafe   flie  prun'd  her  growing 

wings,  , 

I5y  fages  honour'd,  and  rever'd  by  kings. 
JEv'n  knowing  Greece  confefs'd  her  early  claim, 
And  warlike  Latium  caught  the  generous  flame. 
Not  fo  our  age  regards  the  tuneful  tongue, 
'Tis  fenfelefs  rapture  all,  and  empty  fong; 
No  Pollio  (beds  his  genial  influence  round, 
Ko  Varus  liftens  while  the  groves  refound, 
Ev'n  thofe,  the  knowing  and  the  virtuous  few, 
"Whonobleft  ends  by  nobleft  means  purfue, 
Forget  the  poet's  life  j  the  powerful  fpell 
Of  magic  verfe,  which  f  Sidney  paints  fo  well. 
-Forget  that  Homer  wak'd  the  Grecian  flame, 
That  Pindar  rous'd  inglorious  Thebes  to  fame, 
That  evefy  age  has  great  examples  given  [heaven. 
Of  virtue  taught  in  verfe,  and  verfe  infpir'ti  by 

But  I  forbear — thefe  dreams  no  longer  laft, 
The  times  of  fable  and  of  flights  are  pad. 
To  glory  now  no  laurell'd  fuppliants  bend, 
No  coins  are  (truck,  no  facred  domes  afcend. 
Yet  ye,  who  (till  the  mufe's  charms  admire, 
And  bed  deferve  the  verfe  your  deeds  infpire, 
Zv'n  in  thefe  gainful  unambitious  days, 
Feel  for  yourfelves  at  lead,  ye  fond  of  praife, 
And  learn  one  leflbn  taught  in  myftic  rhyme, 
*'  *Tis  verfe  alone  arrefts  the  wings  of  time." 
}  Faft  to  the  thread  of  life,  annex'd  by  fame, 
A  fculptur'd  inedal  bears  each  human  name, 
O'er  Lethe's  dreams  the  fatal  threads  depend, 
The  glitt'ring  medal  trembles  as  they  bend  ; 
Cllofe  but  the  (beers,  when  chance  or  nature  calls, 
The  birds  of  rumour  catch  it  as  it  falls ; 
Awhile  from  bill  to  bill  the  trifle's  tod, 
The  waves  receive  it,  and 'tis  ever  loft- 1    [ftream 

But    fliould   the   rneaneft   fwan  that  cuts  the 
Confign'd  to  Phoebus,  catch  the  favour'd  name, 
Safe  in  her  mouth  (lie  bears  the  facred  pr  ze 
To  where  bright  fame's  eternal  altars  rife. 
'Tis  there  the  mufe's  friends  true  laurels  wear 
There  great  Augudus  reigns,  and  triumphs  there, 

Patrons  of  arts  mud  live  till  arts  decay, 
Sacred  to  veife  in  every  poet's  lay. 


"  Qui.nefcit  qaalia  demens 

"-/EgyptusportenUcolatPcrocodilonadorat — 
Ju-v.  Sat.  xv. 

Defence  ofPoefy.     By  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
Euc on  de  Augment.  Scientiarvm. 


Thus  grateful  France  does  Richlieu's  worth  pr»»i 

claim, 

Thus  grateful  Britain  doats  on  Sommer's  name. 
And,  fpite  of  party  rage  and  human  flaws, 
And  Britifli  liberty,  and  Britifh  laws, 
Times  yet  to  come  (hall  fing  of  Anna's  reign, 
And  bards,  who  blame  the  meafures,  love   the 
men.  [bays? 

But  why  round  patrons  climb  th'    ambitious 
Is  intered  then  the  fordid  fpur  to  praife  ? 
*.  Shall  the  fame  caufe  which  prompts  the  chat- 

t'ringjay 

To  aim  at  words,  infpire  the  poet's  lay  ? 
And  is  there  nothing  in  the  boaded  claim 
Of  living  labours  and  a  deathlefs  name  ? 
The  pidrur'd  front,  -with  facred  fillets  bound  ? 
The  fculptur'd,buft  with  laurels wreath'd  around 
The  annual  rofes  fcatter'd  o'er  his  urn, 
And  tears  to  flow  from  poets  yet  unborn-? 

Illudrious  all !  but  fure  to  merit  thefe, 
Demands  at  leaft  the  poet's  learned  eafe. 
Say,  can  tha  bard  attempt  what's  truly  great, 
Who  pants  in  fecret  for  his  future  fate  ? 
Him  ferious  toils,  and  humbler  arts  engage, 
To  make  youth  eafy,  and  provide  for  age  ; 
While  loft  in  filence  hangs  his  ufelefs  lyre, 
And,  though  from  heav'n  it  came,  faft  dies  th 

facred  fire. 

Or  grant  true  genius  with  foperior  force 
Burfts  every  bond,  refidlefs  in  its  courfe ; 
Yet  lives  the  man,  how  wild  foe'er  his  aim, 
Would  madly  barter  fortune's  fmiles  for  fame ! 
Or  diftant  hopes  of  future  eafe  forego, 
For  ail  the  wreaths  that  all  the  nine  beftow  ? 
Well  pleas 'd  to  fliine  through  each  recording  page 
The  haplefs  Dryden  of  a  (hamelefs  age  ? 

Ill-fated  bard  !  where'er  thy  name  appears, 
The  weeping  verfe  a  fad  memento  bears. 
Ah  !  what  avail'd  th'  enormous  blaze  between 
Thy  dawn  of  glory,  and  thy  clofing  fcene  1 
When  linking  nature  a(ks  our  kind  repairs, 
Undrung  the  nerves,  and  filver'd  o'er  the  hairs  ; 
When  ftay'd  reflection  comes  uncall'd  at  laft, 
And  gray  experience  counts  each  folly  pad, 
Untun'd  and  harfli  the  fweeteft  drains  appear, 
And  loudeft  Pseans  but  fatigue  the  ear. 

'Tis  true  the  man  of  verfe^  though  born  to  ills, 
Too  oft  deferves  the  very  fate  he  feels. 
When,  vainly  frequent  at  the  great  man's  board, 
He  (hares  in  every  vice  with  every  lord  :• 
Makes  to  their  tade  his  fober  fenle  fubmit, 
And  'gainft  his  realbn  madly  arms  his  wit ; 
Heav'n  but  in  juftice  turns  their  ferious  heart 
To  (corn  the  wretch,  whofe  life  belies  his  art. 

He,  only  he,  (hould  haunt  the  mufe's  grove. 
Whom  youth  might  rev'rence  and  gray  hairs  ap 
prove  ;  [roird, 
Whofe  heav'n-taught  numbers,  now,  in  thunder 
Might  roufe  the  virtuous  and  appal  the  bold. 
Now,  to  truth's  dictates  lend  the  grace  of  eafe, 
And  teach  indruction  happier  arts  to  pleafe. 
For  him  would  Plato  change  their  gen'ral  fate, 
And  own  one  poet  might  improve  his  date. 

Curs'd  be  their  verfe,  and  blafted  all  their  bays, 
Whofe  fenfual.lure  th'  unconfcious  ear  betr*ys; 


*  ferfwsi 


"Wounds  the  young  breaft,  ere  virtue  fpreads  her 

fhield, 

And  takes,  not  wins,  the  fcarce  difputed  field. 
Though  fpecious  rhet'ric  each  loofe  thought  re- 

firte, 

Though  mufic  charm  in  every  labour'd  line, 
The  dangerous  verfe,  to  full  perfection  grown, 
Buvius  might  blufh,  and  Quarks  difdain  to  own. 

Should  ibme  Machaon,  whofe  fagacious  foul 
Trac'd  blufhing  nature  to  her  inmoft  goal, 
Skill'd  in  each  drug  the  varying  world  provides, 
All  earth  embofoms,  and  all  ocean  hides, 
Nor  cooling  herb,  nor  healing  balm  fupply, 
Eafe  the  fwollen  breaft  or  clofe  the  languid  eye; 
But,  exquifitely  ill,  awake  difeafe, 
'  And  arm  with  poifons  every  balefol  breeze  : 
What  racks,  what  tortures  muft  his  crimes  demand, 
The  more  than  Borgia  of  a  bleeding  land  ! 
And  is  lefs  guilty  he  whofe  fhamelefs  page         T 
Not  to  the  prefent  bounds  its  fubtle  rage,  I 

But  fpreads  contagion  wide,  and  flains  a  future  T 
age  ?  3 

Forgive  me,  Sir,  that  thus  the  moral  ftrain, 
"With  indignation  warm'd,  reje&s  the  rein; 
Nor  think  I  rove  regardlefs  of  my  theme, 
'Tis  hence  new  dangers  clog  the  paths  to  fame. 
Not  to  themfelves  alone  fuch  bards  confine 
Fame's  jufl  reproach  for  virtue's  injur'd  fhrine  ; 
Profan'd  by  them,  the  mufe's  laurels  fade, 
Her  voice  negledled,  and  her  flame  decay'd. 
And  the  fon's  fon  muft  feel  the  father's  crime, 
A  curfe  entail'd  on  all  the  race  that  rhyme. 

New  cares  appear,  new  terrors  fwell  the  train, 
And  muft  we  paint  them  ere  we  clofe  the  fcene  ! 
Say,  muft  the  mufe  th1  unwilling  tafle  purfue, 
And,  to  complete  her  dangers,  mention  you  ? 
Yes  you,  my  friend,,  ev'n  you  whofe  kind  regard 
With  partial  fondnefs  views  this  humble  bard : 
Ev'n  you  he  dreads. — Ah  '.  kindly  ceafe  to  raife 
Unwilling  cenfure,  by  exacting  praife. 
Juft  to  itfelf  the  jealous  world  will  claim 
A  right  to  judge;  to-give,  or  cancel  fame. 
And,  if  th'  officious  zeal  unbounded  flows, 
The  friend  too  partial  is  the  worft  of  foes. 

*  Behold  tli'  Athenian  fage,   whofe  piercing 

mind 

Had  trac'd  the  wily  lab'rinths  of  mankind, 
When  now  condemn'd,  he  leaves  his  infant  care 
To  all  thofe  evils  man  is  born  to  bear. 
Not  to  his  friends  alone  the  charge  he  yields, 
But  nobler  hopes  on  jufter  motives  builds; 
Bids  ev'n  his  foes  their  future  fteps  attend, 
Ahd  dare  to  cenfure,  if  they  dar'd  offend. 
Would  thus  the  poet  truft  his  offspring  forth, 
Or  bloom'd  our  Britain  Vith  Athenian  worth: 
Would  the  brave  foe  the  imperfect  work  engage 
With  honeft  freedom,  not  with  partial  rage, 
What  juft  productions  might  the  world  lurprife  ! 
What  other  Popes,  what  other  Maros  rife  ! 

But  fince  by  foes  or  friends  alike  deceiv'd, 
Too  little  thofe,  and  thefe  too  much  believ'd  ; 
Since  the  fame  fate  purfues  by  diff'rent  ways, 
Undone  by  cenfure,  or  undone  by  praife  ; 
Since  bards  themfelves  fubmit  to  vice's  rule, 
And  party-feuds  grow  high,  and  patrons  cool : 


P'alonls  Apologi* 


M    9.  9*3 

Since,  ftill  unfcam'd,  unnumber'd  ills  behind 
Rife  black  in  air,  and  only  wait  the  wind  : 
Let  me,  O  let  me,  ere  the  tempeft  roar, 
Catch  the  firft  gale,  and  make  the  neareft  fhore;  • 
In  facred  filence  join  th'  inglorious  train, 
Where  humble  peace  and  fweet  contentment  reign ; 
If  not  thy  precepts,  thy  example  own, 
And  fteal  through  life  not  ufclefs,  though  un 
known. 

ATYS  AND  ADRASTUS. 

A  TALE.     1743. 

"  Infelix  !  Nati  funus  crudele  videbis. 

"  Hi  noftri  reditus.  expe<5tatique  triumph!  I 

"  Hscc  mea  magna  fides ! —  VIRC. 

***  This  {lory  is  related  in  the  firft  book  of  He- 
rodotus's  Hiftory.  For  the  additions  made  to 
it,  and  the  manner  of  telling  it.  the  AutLpr  of 
the  following  poem  is  to  anfwer. 

IN  ancient  times,  o'er  Lydia's  fertile  land 
The  warrior  Croefus  held  fupreme  command. 
Vaft  was  his  wealth,  for  conqueft  fwell'ci  hisftore  ; 
Nor  what  enrich'd  the  prince,  had  left  the  people 
poor. 

Two  fons  he  had,  alike  in  outward  mien, 
The  tender  pledges  of  a  dying  queen. 
But  fpeechlefc  one  ne'er  taught  his  fire  to  melt 
With  hfping  eloquence  by  parents  felt ; 
And  mimic  art  in  vain  expedients  fought 
To  form  the  tongue,   and  free   th*  imprifon'd 

thought. 

Yet  blooming  Atys  well  that  lofs  fupply'd, 
Atys  the  people's  hope,  and  monarch's  pride. 
His  beauteous  foul,  through  every  feature  glow'd; 
And  from  his  lips  fuch  foft  perfuafion  flow'd, 
As  nature  had  withheld  the  brother's  fhare, 
Only  to  pour  a  double  portion  there. 

But  vain  thofe  graces,  fince  conceal'd  (rom  view 
They  droop  in  (hades  and  wither  where  they  grew. 
For  one  dread  night,  when  o'er  the  weary  king 
The  drovvfy  god  had  ftretch'd  his  leaden  wing, 
He  feem'd,  he  knew  not  where,  in  wars  engig"d, 
And.  while  around  the  doubtful  battle  rag'd, 
Saw  from  fome  hoftile  hand  unerring  part 
A  fatal  fpear,  which  pierc'd  his  Atys'  heart. 
He  ftarts,  he  -wakes — 'tis  night  and  filence  all ! 
Yet  fcarce  confirm'd,  he  ftill  beholds  him  fall; 
Still  bleeds  in  fancy's  eye  the  gaping  wound, 
On  fancy's  ear  the  dying  groans  refound. 
Again  he  fleeps ;  the  fame  fad  fccnes  return— 
Reftlefs  he  roll?,  and  waits  the  b'ng'ring  morn. 

What  can  he  do,  or  how  prevent  a  doom, 
Which  Heav'n  forctels,   and  fate  has  faid  fhall 

come  ? 

"  And  yet  perhaps  the  gods  thefe  dreams  infpire, 
"  To  fave  the  gailtlefs  fon.  and  w.u-nthc  fire. 
"  Too  fond  of  arms  I  v.ander'd  far  aftray, 
"  While  youth  and  blind  ambition  led  the  way. 
"  And  ravay;'d  countries  may  at  length  demand 
"  This  bleeding  facrifice  at  Croefus'  hand. 
"  Then  hear  me,  gods,  propitious  while  I  fwear, 
"  Peace,  oniy  peace,  mail  be  my  future  care. 
"  O  would  your  powers  but  fave  my  darling  boy, 
u  No  more  this  breaft  fhall  glow,'  this  arm  ie- 

3  L  iiij 


THE   WORKS    OFW.   WHITEHEAD', 


"  Nor  ere  fhall  Atys  the  dire  fport  purfue, 

"  Still  in  my  court,  and  feldom  from  my  view, 

"  In  eafe  inglorious  fhall  he  pafs  his  days, 

"  Untaught  to  feel  th'  infatiate  luft  of  praife." 

He  fpake,  and  cautious  far  away  remov'd 
From  Atys,  what  next  Atys  mod  be  lov'd, 
The  pomp  of  war ;  no  faulchions  guard  the  gate, 
And  chiefs  unarm'd  around  his  palace  wait. 
Nay  farther  ftill  extends  a  parent's  fear, 
JEv'n  arms  themfelvts  he  dreads,  and  moft  the 

fpear ; 

Nor  leaves  of  ancient  war  the  weak  remains, 
But  ftrip;.  the  trophies  from  the  mould'ring  fanes, 
Left,  fix'd  too  loofely,  frem  the  faithlefs  ftone 
The  cafual  fteel  fhould  drop,  and  pierce  his  fon. 
Thus  fonie  fweet  warbler  of  the  feather'd  throng 
Deep  ill  the  thorny  brake  fecures  her  young  ; 
Yet,  vainly  anxious,  feels  a  fancied  woe, 
And  ftarts  at  every  breeze  that  ftirs  the  bough  ; 
"With  filent  horror  hears  the  whifp'ring  groves, 
And  diftant  murmurs  of  the  fpring  flie  loves. 

Unhappy  fire!  but  vainly  we  oppofe 
"Weak  human  caution,  when  the  gods  are  foes ; 
The  ftory's  fequel  mufl  too  furely  prove ; 
That   dreams,    prophetic   dreams,    defcend   from 

Jove. 

Nor  yet  fhall  Atys  thwart  thy  fond  defigns; 
He  moves  implicit  as  his  fire  inclines. 
On  every  look  his  eager  duty  hung, 
And  read  his  wifhes,  ere  they  reach'd  his  tongue. 
With  foiiles  he  ftrips  his  helmet's  plumy  pride, 
With  fmiles  he  lays  his  ufelefs  fpear  afide; 
Nor  lets  one  figh  confefs  a  latent  care, 
Referving  all  his  griefs  for  his  Adraftus'  ear. 

Adraftus  early  did  his  foul  approve, 
Brave,  virtuous,  learn'd,  and  form'd  for  Atys'  love, 
A  Phrygian  youth  whom  fute  condemn'd  to  roam, 
An  exil'd  wand'rcr  from  a  c'-uel  home. 
For,  yet  a  boy,  his  inadvertent  lance 
An  mfani  brother  flew,  thv  crime  of  chance. 
In  vain  he  wept,  the  rigid  fire  demands 
Hi:  inftant  abfence  from  his  native  lands, 
Or  threatens  in  it  an  c  death  ;  from  death  he  flew, 
And  loaded  with  a  father's  curfe  withdrew. 
Yet  not  in  vain  the  gods  fuch  ills  difpenfe, 
If  foft-ey'd  pity  takes  her  rife  from  hence, 
If  h'-nce  we  learn  to  feel  another's  pain, 
.And  from  our  own  misfortunes  grow  humane. 
This  young  Adra/lus  found  ;  and  hence  confels'd 
That  wild  benevolence,  vhich  warm'd  his  breall. 
Hence  too  his  fortune  ftretch'd  a  bolder  wing, 
And  plac'd  her  wand'rer  near  the  Lydian  king. 
There  long  the  favour'd  youth  exalted  fhoue, 
Dear  to  the  fire,  but  dearer  to  the  fon  : 
For  powerful  fympathy  their  hearts  had  join'd 
In  ftronger  ties  than  gratitude  can  bind. 

With  him  did  Atya  every  fpcrt  purfue, 
Which  health  demands,  and  earlier  ages  knew. 
At  morn,  at  eve,  at  fultry  noon,  with  him 
He  rov'd  the  funny  lawn,  he  fwam  the  ftream  ; 
Befide  the  brook,  which  dimpling  glides  away, 
Caught  the  cool  breeze,  or  lur'd  the  finny  prey  ; 
Urg'd  the  light  car  along  th'  indented  mead, 
Or  hung  impetuous  o'er  th'  exulting  fteed, 
Beneath  whofe  hoof  unhurt  the  flow'rets  rife, 
And  the  light  grafs  fcarce  trembles  as  he  flies. 
But  chief  he  lov'd  to  range  the  woods  among, 
And  hear  the  aiuik  of  Adraftus'  tongue 


With  graceful  cafe  unlock  the  IcttcrM  ftore, 
And  that  he  learn'd  from  him  endcar'd  the  know-* 

ledge  more. 

Of  Thales'  wifdom  oft  the  converfe  ran, 
How  varying  nature's  beauteous  frame  began, 
And  erft  to  different  forms  the  waters  flow'd, 
As  o'er  the  chaos  mov'd  the  breathing  god. 
Of  Solon  too  he  fpake,  and  laws  defign'd 
To  guard  fair  freedom,  not  enflave  mankind— 
And  hinted  oft  what  mutual  duties  fpring 
'Twixt  willing  fubiedls  and  their  father  king: 
How  clofe  connected  greatnefs  was  with  pain, 
What  eaithly  blifs,  and  who  the  happy  man. 

Nor  lefs  the  while  his  youthful  breall  he  warm* 
With  pi&ur'd  fights,  the  theory  of  arms  ; 
Left  inbred  floth  fliould  taint  his  future  reign, 
And  virtue  wake,  and  glory  tempt  in  vain. 
Thee,  Homer,  thee  with  rapture  they  perufe, 
Expand  the  foul,  and  take  in  all  the  mufe  ; 
Mix  with  thy  gods,  with  war's  whole  ardour  burn. 
Or  melt  in  filent  tears  o'er  H?6tor's  urn. 
How  oft  tranfported  would  young  Atys  cry, 
•'  Thus  might  I  fight,  'twere  glorious  thus  to  die T 
"  But  why  to  me  are  ufelefs  precepts  giv'n, 
"  Tied  down  and  pinion'dby  the  will  ofheav'n  ? 
"  No  early  wreaths  my  coward  youth  mutt  claim, 
"  No  juft  ambition  warm  me  into  fame ; 
"  Hid  from  the  world  to  ruft  in  floth,  and  buy 
"  A  poor  precarious  life  with  infamy. 
"  Happy,  thrice  happy,  on  each  hoftile  ftrand 
'  The  youths  who  periih'd  by  my  father's  hand ! 
'    Fheir  honour  ftill  furvives,  and  o'er  their  tomb 
'  Their  country's  tear>  defcend, and  laurels  bloom. 
'  To  life  alone  the  conquering  fword's  confin'd — 
'  Would  you  indeed  diilrcfs,  employ  a  love  to» 

kind." 

As  oft  Adraftus,  ftudious  to  controul 
With  reason's  voice  the  tumult  of  the  foul, 
Wou'd  hint,  to  what  excefs  foever  wrought, 
Paternal  fondnefs  was  a  venial  fault. 
Perhaps,  as  lenient  time  dole  gently  on,     [blown, 
I  he  ftorm  which  threaten'd  might  be  quite  o'er- 
And  fun-bright  honour  only  be  delay'd 
Awhile,  to  burft  more  glorious  from  the  fhad^,. 
"  Yet  think,"  he  cry'd,  "whatever  they  appear, 
"  Few  are  the  caufes  can  excufe  a  war. 
"  Toraifeth'  opprefs'd,to  curb  th'  infulting proud; 
"  Or  fhould  your  injur'd  country  call  aloud, 
"  Rufn,  rufli  to  arms,  'tis  glorious  then  to  dare, 
"  Delay  is  cowardice,  and  doubt  defpair. 
"  But  let  not  idler  views  your  breaft  enflame 
'  Of  boundlels  kingdoms,  and  a  dreaded  name. 
'  'Tis  yours  at  home  to  ilemoppreffion's  waves, 
'  To  guard  your  fubje&s,  nod  increafe  your  flaves; 
'  On  this  juft  bafis  fame's  firm,  column  raife, 
'  And  be  defert  in  arms  your  fecond  praife." 

*  1'was  thus  in  converfe,  day  fucceeding  day, 
They  wore  unfelt  the  tedious  hours  away, 
And  years  on  years  in  downy  circles  ran 
Till  the  boy  rofe  infenfibly  to  man. 
What  now  (hall  Croefus  find.what  Syren  voice, 
To  make  retirement  the  refult  of  choice  ? 
No  father's  ftern  command  theie  years  allow,  - 
A  chain  more  pleafing  muft  detain  him  now. 
In  rofy  fetters  fhall  the  youth  be  tied, 
And  Myfia's  captive  fair  the  chofen  bride. 

'Hafte,  gentle  god,  whofe  chains  unite  the  globe; 
Known  by  the  blazing  torch,  and  faflroarolje, 


POEMS. 


To  Lydia  hafte,  for  Atys  blames  your  flay, 
Nor  fair  Idalia's  bluflies  brook  delay  ; 
O'er  glory's  blaze  your  foft  enchantments  breathe, 
And  hide  the  laurel  with  the  myrtle  wreath. 

And  now  the  king  with  fecret  tranfporc  found 
His  hopes  fucceed,  nor  fears  a  martial  wound, 
While  loft  in  love  the  happier  Atys  lies, 
The  willing  victim  of  Idalia's  eyes. 
O  thoughtleff  man  !  from  hence  thy  fcrrows  flow, 
The  fcheme  projected  to  avert  the  blow 
But  makes  it  fure — for  fee,  from  Myfia's  land 
Round  lifl'ning  Atys  crowds  a  fvippliant  band. 
Their  tears,  their  cries,  his  eafy  breaft  affail, 
Fond  to  redrcfs  them  ere  lie  hears  vheir  tale. 
"  A  mighty  boar,  the  curfc  of  angry  heaven, 
"  Had  from  their  homes  the  \\reuHcd  fuff'rers 

"  driv'n. 

"  Wafte  were  their  vinv  groves,  their  rifir.g  grain, 
"  Their  herds,  their  flocks,  th    attendant,  fhcp- 

,     "  herds  flam, 
"  And  fcarce  themfelvcs  furvlve. 
"  O  would  but  Atys  lead  the  hunter  train, 
"  Again  their  viny  groves,  their  waving  ^rain 
M  Might  rife  fecure,  their  herds,  their  flocks  in- 

"  creafe, 
"  And  fair  Idalia's  country  reft  in  peace." 

The  youth  affents,  th'  exulting  crowds  retire ; 
When  thus  impatient  fpeaks  the  trembling  fire  : 
*'  What  means  my  fon  ?  preierv'd,  alas,  in  vain, 
"  From  hoftile  fquadrons,  and  the  tented  plain  ; 
"  You  rufli  on  death— recal  your  rafh  defign, 
"  Mine  be  the  blame,  and  be  the  danger  mine; 
"  Myfelf  will  lead  the  band.''  The  youth  return'd, 
While  his  flufh'd  cheek  with  mild   refentment 

burn'u : 

"  Will  Croefus  lead  the  band,  a  hunter  now, 
"  Skill'd  in  the  fight,  and  laurels  on  his  brow  ? 
"  Alas,  fuch  mockeries  of  war  become 
"  The  loit'rer  Atys  fearful  of  his  doom. 
"  To  him  at  leaft  thefe  triumphs  be  refign'd, 
"  That  not  entirely  ufelefs  to  mankind 
"  His  days  may  pafs;  thefe  triumphs^all  his  aim, 
"  Thefe  humble  triumphs  fcarce  allied  to  fame. 
"  And  yet,  dread  Sir,  if  you  command  his  ilay, 
*c   (O  force  of  duty)  !  Atys  muft  obey. 
"  Alas,  on  you  whatever  blame  fball  fall, 
"  A  father's  fondnefs  can  excufe  it  all, 
"•  But  me,  of  me,  if  ft  ill  your  power  withftands, 
"  What  mud  the  Lydian,  what  the  Myfian  bands, 
"  What  muft  Idal-a  think  ?"     Adraftus  here 
Soft  interpos'd.     "  Great  king,  difmifs  your  fear, 
"  Nor  longer  Atys'  firft  requeft  oppofe  ; 
"  War  was  your  dream,  no  war  this  region  knows 
"  For  humbler  prey  the  hunters  range  the  wood, 
"  Their  fpears  fly  innocent  of  human  blood. 
"  Had  in  the  fportive  chafe  fome  plumtom  boar 
"  Dug  deep  the  wound,  and  drank  the  vital  gore, 
l(  That  dreadful  vifion  had  cxcus'd  your  care, 
"  Nor  Atys  offer 'd  an  unheeded  pray'r. 
"  I  love  the  prince,  and,  but  I  think  his  life 
"  Safe  as  my  own,  would  urge  him  from  the  ftrife. 
"  Permit  him,    lire — this   arm  lhall  guard  him 

"  there ; 

"  And  fafely  may  you  truft  Adraftus'  care, 
"  For,  fhould  he  fall,  this  arm  would  furely  prove 
"  My  bofom  feels  a  more  than  father's  love.'' 

As,  when  impetuous  through  th'  autumnal  fky 
Urg'd  by  the  winds  the  clouds  difparting  fly, 

6 


O'er  the  broad  wave,  or  wide  extended  mead, 
Shifts  the  quick  beam,  alternate  light  and  fhade; 
So  glanc'd  the  monarch's  mind  from  thought  to 

thought, 

So  in  his  varying  face  the  paffions  wrought. 
Oft  on  his  fon  he  turn'd  a  doubtful  eye, 
Afraid  to  grant,  nor  willing  to  deny, 
Oft  r&is'd  it  tearful  to  the  bleft  abodes, 
And  fought  in  vain  the  unregarding  gods. 
Then  look'd  confent.     But  added,  with  a  groan, 
"  From  thee,  Adraftus,  I  expect  my  fon." 

Why  fhould  I  tell,  impatient  for  the  fight, 
How  Atys  chid  the  ling'ring  hours  of  night  ? 
Or  how  the  rofeate  morn  with  early  ray 
Streak'd  the  glad  eaft,    and  gradual  fpread  the 

day, 

When  forth  he  iffu'd  like  the  Lycian  god  ? 
Loofe  to  the  breeze  his  hov'ring  mantle  flow'd, 
Wav'd  the  light  plume  above,  behind  him  hung 
His  ratt'ling  quiver,  and  his  bow  unftrung. 
lie  mounts  his  fteed,  the  fteed  obey'd  the  rein, 
Arch  d  his  high  neck,  and  graceful  paw'd  the 

plain. 

Ev'n  Croefus'  felf  forgot  awhile  his  fear 
Ok  future  ills,  and  gaz'd  with  tranfport  there. 

Or  why  relate,  when  now  the  train  withdrew, 
How  fair  Idalia  figh'd  a  foft  adieu ; 
How  Cvoefus  follow'd  with  his  voice  and  eyes, 
Fond  to  behold,  but  fonder  to  ad  vile, 
And  oft  repeated,  as  they  journey'd  on, 
"  From  then,  Adraftus,  I  expect  toy  fon." 

Suffice  it  us,  they  leave  the  waves  which  flow 
O'er  beds  of  goW,  and  Tmolus'  fragrant  brow, 
They  p:-Js  MagneGa's  plains,  Cai'cus"  ftream. 
The   Myfian  bound,  which  chaiig'd  its  ancient 

name, 

And  reach  Olympus'  verge  : 
There  defolation  fpread  fier  ghaftly  reign 
O'er  trampled  vines,  and  difiipated  grain. 
And  law  with  joy  revolving  feafons  i'mile 
To  fwell  her  pomp,  and  mock  the  lab'rer's  toij. 
Led  by  her  baleful  fteps,  the  youth  explore 
The  dark  retreats,  and  roufe  the  foaming  boar. 
Hard  is  the  ftrife  :  his  horny  fides  repel 
Unting'd  the  plumy  fhaft,  and  blunted  fteel. 
The  dogs  lie  mangled  o'er  the  bleeding  plain, 
And  many  a  fteed,  and  many  a  youth  was  flain. 
When  now  his  well-aim'd  bow  Adraftus  dtew, 
Twang'd  the  ftretch'd  firing,  the  feather'd  xenge- 

ance  flew, 

And  ras'd  the  monfter's  neck:  he  roars,  he  flits, 
The  crowd  purfues,  the  hills  refound  their  cries. 
Full  in  the  centre  of  a  vale,  embrown'd 
With  arching  fhades,  they  dole  the  favage  round. 
He  wheels,  he  glares,  he  meditates  his  prey, 
Refolv'd  to  ftrike,  rcfolv'd  to  force  his  way  j 
But  Atys  timely  ftopp'd  his  fierce  career,  > 
And  through  his  eye-ball  fcnt  the  whizzing  fpear, 
And  joyful  faw  him  reel ;  with  eager  fpeed 
He  bears  the  fliining  blade,  he  quits  his  fteed ; 
"  —Ah  ftop,  rafli  youth,  not  conqueft  you  pur- 

"  fue, 

"  Death  lies  in  ambufh  there,  the  viftim  you ; 
"  You  rufh  on  fate'' — in  vain— he  reach'd   the 

beaft, 

He  rais'd  his  arm,  and  now  had  pierc'd  his  breaft. 
When  in  that  moment  from  the  adverfe  fide 
His  too  adventurous  prince  Adraftus  fpied, 


906 


fHE  WORKS   OFW.  WHltHEAB. 


And  launched  with  nervous  hafte  his  eager  (pear, 
Alarm'd,  ,and  trembling  for  a  life  fo  dear. 
Glanc'd  o'er  the  falling  beaft  the  fated  wood, 
And  fix'd  in  Aty's  breaft  drank  deep  the  vita 

flood 

The  ftruggling  prince  impatient  of  the  wound 
Writh'd  on  the   fpear,  the  crowds  enclofe  him 

round, 

Then  funk  in  death  unknowing  whence  it  came, 
Yet,  ev'n  in  death,  he  call'd  Adraftus'  name, 
«  Where  flies  Adraftus  from  his  dying  friend  ? 
"  O  bear  me  near.''     Poor  prince  !  thy  life  muft 

end 

Not  in  thy  murderer's  arms,  he  hears  thee  not ; 
Like  fome  fad  wretch  fix'd  to  the  fatal  fpot 
Where  fell  the  bolt  of  Jove,  nor  ear,  nor  eye, 
Nor  arm  to  help,  nor  language  to  reply, 
Nor  thought  itfelf  is  his.     Oblig'd  to  move 
AS  they  direct  his  fteed,  he  leaves  the  grove, 
As  they  direct  to  Sardis"  tow'rs  again 
Inlilence  follows  the  returning  train. 

There  too  we  turn,  for  there  the  penfive  fire 
Now  hopes,  now  fears,  and  pines  with  vain  defire. 
In  every  duft  before  the  wind  that  flies, 
In  every  diflant  cloud  which  ftains  the  Ikies 
He  fees  his  fon  return  :  till  oft  deceiv'd 
No  more  his  eye,  the  flatt'ring  fcene  believ'**, 
Yet  ftill  he  wander'd,  and  with  looks  intcr.t, 
The  fatal  road  his  darling  Atys  went. 
There  to  averted  Heav'n  he  tells  his  pain, 
And  Slaughter' d  hecatombs  decrees  in  vain. 
There  to  Idalia,  frequent  by  his  fide, 
Relates  his  fears,  or  fooths  the  weeping  bride 
With  tales  of  Atys'  worth,  and  points  the  place 
Where  late  he  parted  from  their  laft  embrace. 
And  now,  perchance,  in  tears  they  linger'd  there, 
When  flowly-moving  real  crowds  appear,    [eye — 
"  What  means,"  he  cried,  and  dot  a  trembling 
A  youth  deputed  by  the  reft  drew  nigh, 
And  in  fad  accents  t/;ld  the  dreadful  tale. 
Rage  feiz'd  the  king :  expiring,  breathlefs,  pale, 
Idalia  finks ;  th'  attendant  fair  convey 
With  tears,  and  Ihrieks,  the  lifelefs  frame  away. 
"  Where  is  the  wretch? — hear,  hofpitable  Jove! — 
«'  Is  this,  is  this  thy  more  than  father's  love  ? 
"  Give  mr.  my  fon — why  ftare  thy  haggard  eyes 
"  As  fix'd  hi  grief?  here  only  forrow  lies" — 
And  fraote  his  breaft — "  Thy  life  in  blood  began 
**  A  fated  wretch,  a  murd'rer  ere  a  man. 
" .  U  foolifli  kinr; !  by  my  indulgence  ftole 
"  This  ferpent  near  me,  that  has  flung  my  foul. 
*  This  thy  return  for  all  a  king  could  ftiower 
"  Of  bounty  o'er  thee,  life,  and  wealth,  and  pow- 

«  er — 

"  But  what  are  thofe  ?  How  great  foe'er  they  be, 
"  I  gave  thee  more,  1  gave  myfelf  to  thee : 
"  I  gave  thee  Atys,  link'd  in  fricndfhip's  chain — 
«<  O  fatal  gift,  if  thus  return'd  again  ! 
*'  Reach  me  a  fword— and  yet,  dear  bleeding  clay, 
"  Can  his,  cfin  thoufand  lives  thy  lofs  repay?" 
Then  burft  in  tears — "  Heav'n's  inftrument    I 
blame,  [came. 

"  Though  by  his  hand,  from  Heav'n  the  vengeance 
"  This  ftroke,  O  Solon,  has  convinc'd  my  pride  ! 
«'  O  had  1  never  lir'd,  or  earlier  died  ! 

"  Alas,  poor  wretch,  why  doft  thou  bare  thy 

"  breaft, 
«  A^4  court  jny  fword !  though  loft  himfelf  to  reft, 


"  This  curft  of  Heav'n,  this  Cfoefus  can  forgive 
"  Th'  unhappy  caufe,  and  bids  the  murd'rer  live." 
"  Ah  ftop,"  he  cried,  "  and  write  the  milder  fate 
"  Here  with  thy  fword,  I  only  liv'd  for  that. 
"  Undone,  I  thought,  beyond  misfortune's  power, 
"  O  do  not  by  forgivenefs  curfe  me  more  !" 

While  yet  he  pleaded,  to  the  mourning  crowd, 
Forth  rufti'd  Idalia  by  her  maids  purfu'd  ; 
Eager  flie  feem'd,  with  light  fufpicions  fill'd, 
And  on  her  face  heart-piercing  madnefs  fmil'd. 

"  Where  is  my  wand'ring  love,  ye  Lydians  far, 
"  Does  he  indeed  along  Meander  ftray, 
"  And  rove  the  Afian  plain  ?  I'll  feek  him  there. — 
"  Ye  Lydian  damfels,  of  your  hearts  beware : 
"  Fair  is  my  love  as  to  the  fumny  beam 
"  The  light-fpread  plumage  on  Cayfter's  ftream, 
'  His  lock*  are  Hermus*  gold,  his  checks  outmine, 
:t  The  ivory  tinctur'd  by  your  art  divine. — 
'  I  fee  him  now,  in  Tmolus'  made  he  lies 
'  On  faffron  beds,  foft  fleep  has  feal'd  his  eyes. 
'  His  breath   adds   fweetnefs   to  the  gale  that 

"  blows; 

'  Tread  light,  ye  nymphs,  I'll  fteal  on  his  repofe. 
'  Alas,  he  bleeds !  O  murder !  Atys  bleeds, 
'  And  o'er  his  face  a  dying  palenefs  fpreads  ! 
'  Help,  help,  Adraftus — can  you  leave  him  now, 
'  In  death  neglect  him  ?  Once  it  was  not  fo. 
'  What,  and  not  weep ;  a  tear  at  leaft  it  due, 
'  Unkind  Adraftus,  he'd  have  wept  for  you. 
'  Come  then,  my  maids,  our  tears  fliall  wafh  the 

"  gore; 

'  We,  too,  will  die,  fince  Atys  is  no  more. 
'  But  firft  we'll  ftrow  with  flowers  the  hallow'd 

"  ground 

1  Where  lies  my  love,  and  plant  the  cyprefs  round  ; 
:  Nor  let  Adraftus  know,  for  fhould  he  come, 
;  New  ftreams  of  blood  would  iflue  from  the  tomb ; 
:  The  flowers  would  wither  at  his  baleful  tread, 

And  at  his  touch  the  fick'ning  cyprefs  fade. 
;  Come,  come— nay,  do  not  tear  me  from  his  fide, 
:  Cruel  Adraftus,  am  I  not  his  bride  ? 
;  I  muft— I  will — me  would  you  murder  too  ?" 
At  this,  unable  to  fuftain  his  woe, 

My  foul  can  bear  no  more,"  Adraftus  cries, 
iis  eyes  on  Heav'n), "  Ye  powers,  who  rule  tha 

"  ikies! 

If  your  auguft,  unerring  wills  decreed. 
That  ftates,  and  kings,  and  families  muft  bleed. 
Why  was  I  fingled  to  perform  the  part, 
Unfteel'd  my  foul,  unpetrified  my  heart  ? 
"   What  had  I  done,  a  child,  an  embryo  man, 
Ere  paffions  e*ould  unfold,  or  thought  began  ? 
Yet  then  condemn'd,  an  infant  wretch  I  fled, 
Blood  on  my  hands,  and  curfes  on  my  head. 
O  had  I  perifti'd  fo  !  hut  fortune  fmil'd, 
To  make  her  frowns  more  dire.— This  vagrant 

child 

Became  the  friend  of  kings,  to  curfe  them  all, 
And  with  new  horrors  dignify  his  fall." 
Then  eager  fnatch'd  his  fword.  "  For  murders  paft 
'  What  have  I  not  endur'd  ?— be  this  my  laft," 
And  pierc'd  his  breaft.  "  This  fated  arm  fliall  pour 
Your  ftreams  of  wrath,  and  hurl  your  bolts  n« 

"  more. 

For  pangs  fuftain'd,  oblivion's  all  I  crave ; 
O  let  my  foul  forget  them  in  the  grave  ! 
"  Alas,  forgive  the  wretch  your  judgments  doom 
"  Dark  arc  your  ways,  I  wander  in  the  gloora, 


POEMS. 


«*  Nbr  fhould  perhaps  complain.— Be  grkf  my-» 

"  fhare; 

11  But,  if  your  heav'n  has  mercy,  pour  it  there,  j, 
"  On  yon  heart-broken  king,  on  yon  diftracted  i 

"  fair."  .  J 

He  fpake,  and  drew  the  fteelj  the  weeping  train 
Support  him  to  the  bier,  he  grafps  the  flain, 
There  feels  the  laft  fad  joy  his  foul  defires, 
And  on  his  Atys'  much-lov'd  breaft  expires. 

*  O  happy  both,  if  I,  if  I  could  fhed 
"  Thofe  tears  eternal,  which  embalm  the  dead;" 
While  round  Britannia's  coaft  old  ocean  raves, 
And  to  her  ftandard  roll  th'  embattled  waves, 
Fair  emprefs  of  the  deep ;  fo  long  your  names 
Should  live  lamented  by  her  brighteft  dames ; 
Who  oft,  at  evening,  fhould  with  tears  relate 
The  murder'd  friend,  and  poor  Idalia's  fate ; 
And  oft,  inquiring  from  their  lovers,  hear 
How  Croefus  mourn'd  a  twice  revolving  year, 
Then  reus'd  at  Cyrus'  name,  and  glory's  charms, 
Shook  off  enervate  grief,  and  flione  again  in  armt. 

ANN  BOLF.YN  TO  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH 

AN  HEROIC  EPISTJ.E.     1743- 

*'  Ne  quid  inexpertum  fruftra  moritura  relinquat." 

VJRG. 

The  principal  hints  of  the  following  epiflle  are 
taken  from  the  celebrated  laft  letter  of  Ann  Bo- 
leyn  to  Henry  the  Eighth,  publifhed  in  the  Spec 
tator,  No.  397.  The  author  hopes  the  additions 
he  has  made  to  it  may  appear  natural  in  her  un 
fortunate  fituation. 

IF  fighs  could  foften,  or  diftrefs  could  move 
Obdurate  hearts,  and  bofoms  dead  to  love, 
Already  fure  thefe  tears  had  ceas'd  to  flow, 
And  Henry's  fmiles  reliev'd  his  Anna's  woe. 
Yet  ftill  I  write,  ftill  breathe  a  fruitlefs  prayer, 
The  laft  fond  effort  of  extreme  defpair. 
As  fome  poor  fhipwreck'd  wretch,  for  ever  loft, 
In  ftrong  delufion  grafps  the  lefs'ning  coaft. 
Thinks  it  ftill  near,  hovre'er  the  billows  drive, 
And  but  with  life  refigns  the  hopes  to  live. 

You  bid  rne  live ;  but  oh  how  dire  the  means  ! 
Virtue  ftarts  back,  and  confcious  pride  difdains. 
Confefs  my  crime  ?— what  crime  fhall  I  confefs  ? 
In  what  ftrange  terms  the  hideous  falfehood  drefs? 
A  vile  adultrefs !   Heav'n  defend  my  fame  ! 
Condemn'd  for  acting  what  I  fear'd  to  name. 
Blaft  the  foul  wretch,  whofe  impious  tongue  could 

dare 

With  founds  like  thofe  to  wound  the  royal  ear. 
To  wound  ? — alas  !  they  only  pleas'd  too  well, 
And  cruel  Henry  fmil'd  when  Anna  fell. 

Why  was  I  rais'd,  why  bade  to  fhine  on  high 
A  pageant  queen,  an  earthly  deity  ? 
This  flower  of  beauty,  fmall,  and  void  of  art, 
Too  weak  to  fix  a  mighty  fovereign's  heart, 
In  life's  low  vale  its  humbler  charms  hadfpread, 
TVhile  ftorms    roll'd  harmlcfs  o'er  its  fhelter'd 

head :  , 

Had  found,  perhaps,  a  kinder  gath'rer's  hand, 
Grown  to  his  brcuil,  and,  by  his  care  fuftain'd, 


*  Fortunati  ambo,  fi  quid  mea  caroiina  joffunt, 
&c. 


Had  bloom'd  a  •while,  then,  gradual  in  decay,' 
Grac'd  with  a  tear  had  calmly  pafs'd  away. 

Yet,  when  thus  rais'd,  I  taught  my  chafte  defires 
To  know  their  lord,  and  burn  with  equal  fires. 
Why  then  thefe  bonds  ?  Is  this  that  regal  ftate, 
The  fair  expects  whom  Henry  bids  be  great  ? 
Are  thefe  lone  walls,  and  never-varied  fcenes, 
The  envied  manfion  of  Britannia's  queens?      • 
Where  diftant  founds  in  hollow  murmurs  die, 
Where  mofs-grown  tow'rs  obftruct  the  trav'lling 

eye, 

Where  o'er  dim  funs  eternal  damps  prevail, 
And  health  ne'er  enters  wafted  by  the  gale. 
How  curs'd  the  wretch,  to  fuch  fad  fcenes  confin'd, 
If  guilt's  dread  fcorpions  lafh  his  tortur'd  mind, 
When  injur'd  innocence  is  taught  to  fear, 
And  coward  virtue  weeps  and  tremble^  here } 

Nay,  ev'n  when  fleep  fhould  ev'ry  care  allay, 
And  foftly  fteal  th'  imprifon'd  foul  away, 
Quick  to  my  thoughts  excurfive  fancy  brings 
Long  vifionary  trains  of  martyr'd  kings. 
There  pious  *  Henry,  recent  from  the  blow, 
There  ill-ftarr'd  *  Edward  lifts  his  infant  brow. 
Unhappy  prince !  thy  weak  defencelefs  age 
Might  foften  rocks,  or  footh  the  tiger's  rage  ; 
But  not  on  thefe  thy  harder  fates  depend, 
Man,  man  purfues,  and  murder  is  his  end. 

Such  may  my  f  child,  fuch  dire  protectors  find, 
Through  av'rice  cruel,  through  ambition  blind. 
No  kind  condolance  in  her  utmoft  need, 
Her  friends  all  banifh'd,  and  her  parent  dead  ! 
O  hear  me,  Henry,  hufband,  father,  hear, 
If  e'er  thofe  names  were  gracious  in  thy  ear, 
Since  I  muft  die  (and  fo  thy  eafe  requires, 
For  love  admits  not  of  divided  fires), 

0  to  thy  babe  thy  tend'reft  cares  extend, 
As  parent  cherifh,  and  as  king  defend ! 
Transferr'd  to  her,  with  tranfport  I  refign 
Thy  faithlefs  heart — if  e'er  that  heart  was  mine. 
Nor  may  remorfe  thy  guilty  cheek  inflame, 
When  the  fond  prattler  li/ps  her  mother's  name; 
No  tear  ftart  confcious  when  fhe  meets  your  eye, 
No  heart-felt  pang  extort  th'  unwilling  Cgh, 
Left  fhe  fhould  find,  and  ftrong  is  nature's  call, 

1  fell  untimely,  and  lament  my  fall ; 

Forget  that  duty  which  high  Heav'n  commands, 
And  meet  ftrict  juftice  from  a  father's  hands. 
No,  rather  fay  what  malice  can  invent, 
My  crimes  enormous,  fmall  my  punifhment. 
Pleas'd  will  I  view  from  yon  fecurer  fhore 
Life,  virtue,  love  too  loft,  and  weep  no  more,      ( 
If  in  your  breafts  the  bonds  of  union  grow, 
And  unduturb'd  the  ftreams  of  duty  flow. 

Yet  can  I  tamely  court  the  lifted  fteeS 
Nor  honour's  wounds  with  ftrong  refentment  feel? 
Ye  powers!  that  thought  improves  ev'n  terror's 

king, 

Adds  horrors  to  his  brow,  and  torments  to  his  fling. 
No,  try  me,  prince;  each  word,  each  action  weigh, 
My  rage -could  dictate,  or  my  fears  betray  ; 
Each  figh,  each  fmilc,  each  diftant  hint  that  hung 
On  broken  founds  of  an  unmeaning  tongue, 
•lecount  each  glance  of  thefe  unguarded  eyes, 
The  feats  where paffion,  void  of  reafon,  lies; 

*  Henry  VI.  and  Ed-war  J  V.  lotli  muritrti  \*  &t. 
Toivtr. 
f  Afttrivafdt  %£t 


THX  WORKS  OF  V7.  WHITEHfeAD. 


In  thofc  clear  mirrors  every  though*  appears ; 
Ti  II  :ill  their  frailtici— oh  explain  their  tears! 

Ye»,  try  me,  prince  ;  but  an  !  let  truth  prevail, 
Andjtift'"  nniy  bold  the  equal  feck. 
Ah,  let  not  thole  the  fatal  fcntcncc  give, 
"Whom  brotheli  blufh  to  own,  yet  cunrts  receive  ! 
Bafc,  vulgar  foul*— and  fhall  fuch  wretches  raife 
A  queen'*  concern  ?  to  fear  them,  were  to  prajfe. 
Yet  oh  !  (dread  thought)  oh  muft  I,  mult  I  fay, 
Henry  command*,  and  thefc  conftrain'd  obey  ? 
Too  well  I  know  his  faithlefsbofom  pants 
For  charms,  alas !  which  haplcfs  Anna  want*. 
Yet  once  thefe  chnrim  this  faded  face  could  boafl, 
Too  cheaply  yielded,  and  too  quickly  loft. 
"Will  *fhe,O  think,  whom  now  yourfnarespurfue, 
"Will  fhc  for  ever  pk-afc,  be  ever  new  ? 
Or  muft  fhc,  meteor  like,  a  while  be  great, 
Thrn  weeping  fall,  and  ftiarc  thy  Anna's  fate  ? 

Mifguided  maid  !  who  now  perhaps  has  formM, 
In  tranfport  melting,  with  ambition  warm'd, 
JLong  future  grcatncfs  in  ecflatic  fchemcs, 
Loofc  plans  of  wild  delight,  and  golden  dreams ! 
Alas !  fhe  knows  not  with  how  Iwift  decay 
Thofe  vifionary  glories  fleet  away. 
Alas !  flic  knows  not  the  fad  time  will  come, 
"When  Henry's  eyes  to  other  nymphs  fhall  roam  : 
"When  fhc  fhall  vainly  figh,  plead,  tremble,  rave, 
And  drop,  perhaps,  a  tear  on  Anna's  grave. 
y.  lie  would  Ihc  loouer  trull  the  wint'ry  Ir.i, 
Rocks,  dcferts,  monfters — any  thing  than  tlirc  : 
Thee,  whom  deceit  infpires,  whofe  every  breach 
Sooths  to  defpair,  and  every  fmile  is  <li  ;itli. 

Fool  that  1  was !  1  faw  my  rifmg  fame 
Gild  the  fad  ruins  of  a  f  nobler  name. 
For  me  the  force  of  facrcd  tics  rlifownM, 
A  realm  infultcd,  and  a  queen  dcthron'd. 
Yet  fondly  wild,  by  love,  by  fortune  led, 
Excus'd  the  crime,  and  fhar'd  the  guilty  bed. 
"With  fpecious  rcafon  lull'deach  rifuij.;  care, 
And  hugg'd  dcftrutSlion  in  a  form  fo  t.iir. 

"Tis  juft,  ye  powers;  no  longer  1  complain, 
Vain  be  my  tears,  my  boafted  virtues  vain  ; 
Let  rage,  let  flames,  this  deftin'd  wretch  purfuc, 
"Who  begs  to  ilic— but  begs  that  death  from  you. 
Ah  !  why  muft  Henry  the  dread  mandate,  leal  ?. 
Why  muft  his  hand, uninjur'd,  point  the  Heel? 
Say,  for  you  fcarvli  the  images  that  roll 

p  receffeb  of  the  inmoft  foul, 
iiay,  di'.l  yc  ':'cr  amid  thofe  numbers  find 
One  willi  difloyal,  or  one  thought  unkind? 
Then  i'natch  me,   blaft  me,  let  the  lightning's 

wing 

Avert  tins  ftrokc,  and  fave  the  guilty  king. 
Let  not  my  blood,  by  lowlefs  pallioti  flicd, 
Draw  down  Hcav'n's  vengeance  on  his  facrcd  head, 
But  nature'*  power  prevvnt  the  dire  decree, 
And  my  hard  lord  without  a  crime  be  free.. 

Still,  (till  I  live,  Heav'n  hears  not  what  I  fay, 
Or  turns,  like  Henry,  from  my  pray'rs  away. 
Rejected,  loft,  O  whither  flxall  I  fly, 
I  fear  not  death,  yet  diead  the  means  to  die  ! 
To  thec,  O  God,  ty  thec  again  I  come, 
The  finncr's  refuge,  and  the  wretch's  home  ! 
Since  fuch  thy  will,  V.ircwell  my  blafted  fame, 
JLu  foul  detraction  ieize  my  iujtu'u  IUT 

*  Lady  "Jane.  Seymour. 
Catherine  o 


l"Jo  pang.no  fear,  no  fond  conrrrn  I'll 

N.ty,  (mile  in  death,  though  Henry  gives  the  Wow, 

And  now,  refign'd,  my  b^l'im  lighter  grows, 
An- 1  hope,  foft-beaming,  brightens  all  my  woe*. 
S-eleafe  me,  earth  ;  ye  mortal  bonds  untie  : 
Wky  loiters  I  lenry ,  when  I  pant  to  die  ? 
For  angels  call,  Heav'n  opens  at  the  found, 
And  glories  blaze,  and  mercy  ftrcams  around. 
*  Adieu,  ye  fanes,  whofe  purer  flames  anew 
Rofc  with  my  rife,  and  as  I  flourifh'd  grew. 
Well  may  ye  now  my  Weak  protection  fparc, 
The  pow'r  that  fix'd  you  fliail  prefcrvc  you  thfre. 
Small  was  my  part,  yet  all  I  could  employ, 
And  Hcav'rt  repays  it  with  eternal  joy. 

Thus  rapt,  O  King  !  thus  lab'ring  to  be  free,    • 
My  gentlcft  paffport  (till  depends  on  thec. 
My  hov'ring  foul,  though  rais'd  to  Heaven  by 

prayer, 

Still  bends  to  earth,  and  finds  one  forrow  there ; 
Breathes  for  another's  life  its  latcfl  groan— 
Refign'd  and  happy,  might  I  part  alone  ! 

Why   frowns  my  lord  ?— ere  yet  the  flroke'e 
decreed, 

0  hear  a  fifler  for  a  f  brother  plead  ! 

By  Heaven  he's  wrong'd— alas!  why  that  to  you  ? 
You  knew  he's  wrong'd— you  know,  and  yet  puf- 

fue. 

Unhappy  youth  !  what  anguifh  he  endures  I— 
Was  it  for  this  he  prefs'd  me  to  be  yours, 
When  ling'ring,  wav'ring,  rtn  the  brink  I  flood, 
And  ey'd  obliquely  the  too  tempting  flood? 
Was  it  for  this  his  lavifh  tongue  difplay'd 
A  monarch's  graces  to  a  love-fick  maid  ? 
With  fludied  art  consenting  nature  fir'd, 
And  forc'd  my  will  to  what  it  moft  deflr'ct  ? 
Did  he,  enchanted  by  the  flatt'ring  fccnc, 
Delude  the  fiftcr,  and  exalt  the  queen, 
To  fall  attendant  on  that  filler's  fhade. 
And  die  a  victim  with  the  queen  he  made  ? 

And,  witnefs  Heav'n,  I'd  bear  to  fee  him  die, 
Did  not  that  thought  bring  back  the  dreadful  why: 
The  blafting  foulnefs,  that  muft  flill  defame 
Our  lifelefsafhes,  and  united  name. 
—Ah  Hop,  my  foul,  nor  let  one  thought  purfuc 
Th;'t  fatal  track,  to  wake  thy  pangs  anew.— 
Perhaps  fome  pitying  bard  Ihull  fave  from  death 
Our  mangled  fame,  and  teach  our  woes  to  breathe ; 
borne  kind  hiltorian't  pious  leaves,  dil'play 
Our  haplcfs  loves,  and  w.idi  the  {tains  away. 
Fair  truth  fhall  bid's   them,   virtue  guard  their 

caufe, 

And  every  chafle-ey'd  matron  weep  applaufe. 
Yet,  though  no  bard  fhould  ling,  or  lagc  record, 

1  Hill  fhall  vanquifh  my  too  fait  hkl's  lord ; 
Shall  fee  at  laft  my  injur'd  caufe  prevail, 
When  pitying  angels  hear  the  mournful  tale. 

— And  muft  thy  wife,  by  Heav'n'*  fevere  com 
mand, 

Ecforr  his  throne  thy  fad  accufer  (land  ? 
O  I  Icnry,  chain  8iy  tongue,  thy  guilt  atone, 
Prevent  my  fnfT'riugs— ah  !  prevent  thy  own  ! 
Or  hear  me,  Heav'n,  fince  Henry's  ftill  unkind, 
With  itrong  repentance  touch  his  guilty  mind, 

*  Her  marriage  with  King  Henry  itiat  a  meant  of 
introducing  the  Protejlant  religion,  of  ivlijj  JLc  Viai  u 
great  patrcnefs. 

f  Gwrge  Jjflijn,  Y'tfuqurt  RoflforJ, 


P    O    E 

And  oh  !  when  anguifh  t*ar»  hi*  lab'ring  foul, 
Through  hi*  rack'd  breaft  when  keeneft  horrors 

roll, 

When,  weeping,  grov'ling  in  the  dufl  he  lie*, 
An  humbled  wretch,  a  bleeding  facrifice, 
Then  let  me  bear  ('ti*  all  my  grief*  fball  claim, 
For  life'*  loft  honour*,  and  polluted  fame), 
Thm  let  me  bear  thy  mandate  from  on  high, 
With  kind  fbrgivenef*  let  hi*  Anna  fly, 
From  every  pang  the  mnch-lov'd  fufTrex  free, 
And  breathe  that  mercy  he  denies  to  me. 

ON  RIDICULE.     1743. 
Astir*  i*  «/  «*?'>  y04»».        HOME*. 
-TWA  »  faid  of  old,  deny  it  now  who  can, 
The  only  laughing  animal  is  man. 
The  bear  may  leap,  it*  lumpifh  cub*  in  view, 
Or  fportive  cat  her  circling  tail  purfue ; 
The  grin  deep-lengthen  pug'shUf-human  face, 
Or  prick' d-up  ear  confef*  the  fimp'ring  af* : 
la  awkward  gefture*  awkward  mirth  be  fhowc, 
Yet,  fpite  of  gefture,  man  ftill  laugh*  alone. 

Th  all-powerful  hand,  which,  taught  yon  fan 

to  thine, 

Firil  drefc'd  in  fmile*  the  human  face  divice  ; 
And  early  innocence,  imfnoil'd  by  art,         fhearc 
Through  the  glad  eye  betray 'd  th*  o'erfiowing 
No  weak  difgofis  diftarb'd  the  fbcial  plan, 
A  brother's  frantic*  bat  proclaim'd  him  man. 
Nought  perfect  here  they  found,  nor  ought  re- 

Excu»M  the  weaknefs,  and  the  worth  adnuVd. 

Succeeding  age*  more fagacioas grew;         ftoo, 
Theymark'd  oar  foibles,  and  would  mend  them 
Each,  ftrangely  wife,  faw  what  was  jaft  and  beft, 
And  by  bis  model  would  reform  the  reft: 
The  reft,  impatient,  or  reject  with  fcotn 
The  fpeciou*  infult,  cr  with  pride  retaro; 
TiH  all  meet  a!l  with  controverfial  eyes. 
If  wrong  refute  them,  and  if  right  defpife. 
Not  with  their  five*,  bat  pointed  wits,  contend, 
Too  weak  to  vanquinV,  and  too  vain,  to  mend. 

Oar  mirthful  age,  to  all  em  erne*  a  prey, 
Ev*n  court*  the  bfit,  and  laugh*  her  pain*  away. 
Declining  worth  imperial  wit  fappUet, 


And  Mono*  triumphs,  while  Afinta  flies. 

No  troth  fb  fac  red,  banter  cannot  hit, 

No  fool  fb  AopkLbat  he  aims  at  wit. 

Ev*n  thofe,  whole  brcafb  ne'er  pLum'd  one  vir- 

taoas  deed. 

Nor  rai**da  thoaght  beyond  die  earth  they  tread; 
Er'n  thofe  can  cenfare,  thofc  can  dare  deride 
A  Bacon's  aVrice,  or  a  Tally's  pride  ; 
And  fbeer  at  human  checks  by  natare  given, 
To  curb  perfection  ere  it  rival  heaven : 
Nay,  chiefly  men  in  thefe  low  art*  prevail, 
Whose  want  of  talents  leaves  them  tone  to  rail . 
Bora  for  no  end,  they  worfe  than  aidefs  grow 
(A*  waters  poifbn  if  they  ceafc  to  flow) ; 
And  pefts  become,  who»  kmdcr  fate  dcngn'd 
Bat  harmleu  expletives  of  human  Train. 
See  with  what  zealdi'  inidaons  taflt  they  ply ! 
Where  AaH  the  prudent,  where  die  vktaoas  fly  \ 
Lark  a*  ye  can,  if  they  direct  die  ray, 
The  veneft  atonss  in  the  fen-beams  pby. 
Kb  venial  flip  their  qakk  attention  *Jcapes; 
They  trace  each  Protca*  through  hi*  haadred 


To  mirth'*  tribunal  dra»  the  caitif  train, 
Where  mercy  fleep*,  and  nature  plead*  in  vain. 

And  whence  thi*  luft  to  laugh .'  what  fbnd  pro- 

•  •  ••  . 

Why  Sbaftfb'ry  teD*  a*,  mirth'*  the  teft  of  fenfc  ; 
Th*  enchanted  touch,  which  fraud  and  fa'frhoffs! 

fear, 

Like  Una's  mirror,  or  Ithuriel's  fpear. 
Not  fb  fair  truth— aloft  her  temple  flands 
The  work  and  glory  of  immortal  hands. 
Huge  rocks  of  adamant  its  bafe  enfold, 
Steel  bends  the  arch,  the  columns  fwell  in  gold. 
No  florins,  no  tumults,  reach  the  facred faoe; 
Wave*  idly  beat,  and  wind*  grow  loud  in  vain. 
The  fluft  £ck*  pointlcf*,  ere  it  verge*  there, 
And  the  dull  hif*  bat  die*  away  in  air. 

Yet  kt  me  fay,howe'cr  Jecure  k  rife, 
Sly  fraud  may  reach  it,  and  clofe  craft  furprife. 
Truth,    drawn  Lke  truth,  muft  blaze  divinelv 

bright; 

Bat,  drawn  hk«  error,  trcth  may  rheat  die  fight. 
Some  awkward  epithet,  whh  fkjl  apply'd, 
Some  fipeciou*  hmti,  which  half  thdr  m 

bide, 

Can  right  and  wrong  moft  coorteoofly  confound. 
Banditti  tike,  to  ftun  u>  ere  they  wound. 

Is  there  an  art,  through  fcience'  various  ftore, 
But,  madly  ftrain'd,  become*  an  art  no  more  I 
Is  there  a  virtve,  fal&hood  can't  dngaile  I 
Betwixt  two  vices  every  virtue  lies: 
To  this,  to  that,  die  doubt  fal  beam  incline, 
Or  mirth'*  falfe  balance  take,  tie  triumph'*  thin*. 

Let  mighty  Newton  wkh  an  Aagnr'*  hand, 
Through  heaven'*  high  concave  ftrctdi  d*'  La.x 

rial  wand, 

The  vagrant  comet's  dubious  path  affign, 
And  lead  froai  ftar  to  ftar  th'  anerring  fane: 
Who  but  wkh  tranfport  lifts  his  piercing  eye, 
Fond  to  be  loft  in  vaft  immenfity ! 
But  ihould  yoar  *  uyior,  with  as  much  of  dwuffeu 
Erect  hi*  quadrant,  ere  he  cots  your  coat; 
The  partbmem  flips  wkh  algebra  o'etfpread, 
And  calenlatjon*  fcrawl  on  ev'ry  fhred ; 
Art  mifapph/ 'd  muft  flare  you  m  die  face, 
Nor  could  yoa,  grave,  ihe  long  deduction*  trace. 

Fond  of  one  art,  moft  men  the  reft  forego; 
And  all'*  ridiculous,  but  what  diey  know. 
Freely  diey  cenfare  land*  they  ne'er  explore, 
Widi  tale\they  learn'd  from  coafters  on  the  fcorc, 
A*  Afric'*  petty  kings,  perhap*,  who  hear 
Of  diftant  ftates  from  fbme  weak  traveller, 
Imperfect  hints  wkh  eager  ears  devour. 
And  fncer  at  Europe'*  fate,  and  Britain's  power. 

AH  art*  are  ofefal,  as  all  natare  good, 
Correctly  known,  and  temp'rately  parfned. 
The  active  foal,  that  heav'svborn  lamp,  require* 
Stifl  new  fepDcrts to  ited,  and  raife  k* fire*; 
And  fcienor  ample  ftore*  cxpandsd  ftaod, 
A*  different  aid*  die  varying  flames  demand, 
And,  a*  die  lylvaa  chafe  bid*  bodies  glow, 
And  purple  beakh   dtfoafh  vig'roas 


.•-•..••.  •.".'-       .     •..•;.•.•'    .  - .      •  , 

By  MUM  roM'd  at  reafoa'*  early  dawn  ; 
Which  dares  fair  learning**  ardooj»  ieats  iavadr, 
dob  dbe  tall  cfiflT,  or  pierce  th'  entangled  ftade  ; 


THE   WORKS   OP   W.   WHITEHEA*. 


New  health,  new  ftrength,  new  force  its  powers 

receive, 

And  'tisfrom  toil  th'  immortal  karns  to  live. 
Or,  if  too  harfti  each  boift'rous  labour  proves, 
The  mufe  conducts  us  to  more  happy  groves; 
Where  fport  her  fifter  arts,  with  myrtles  crown'd, 
Expreffive  picture,  and  perfuafive  found ; 
Where  truth's  rough  rules  the  gentleft  lays  im 
part, 
And  virtue  deals  harmonious  on  the  heart. 

We  oft,  'tis  true,  miftake  the  fat'rift's  aim, 
Not  arts  themfelves,  but  their  abufe  they  blame. 
Yet,  if,  crufaders  like,  their  zeal  be  rage,  . 
They  hurt  the  caufe  in  which  their  arms  engage : 
On  heav'nly  anvils  forge  the  temper'd  fteel, 
Which  fools  can  brandifh,  and  the  wife  may  feel. 
Readers  are  few,  who  nice  diftinctions  form, 
Supinely  cool,  or  creduloufly  warm. 
'Tis  jeft,  'tis  earned,  as  the  words  convey 
Some  glimm'ring  fenfe  to  lead  weak  heads  aftray. 
And  when,  too  anxious  for  fome  art  afiail'd, 
You  point  the  latent  flaw  by  which  it  fail'd; 
Each  to  his  bias  leans,  a  fteady  fool, 
And,  for  the  part  defective,  damns  the  whole. 

In  elder  James's  ever  peaceful  reign, 
Who  fway'd  ah'ke  the  fceptre  and  the  pen, 
Had  fome  rough  poet,  with  fatiric  rage, 
Alarm'd  the  court,  and  lafli'd  the  pedant  age ; 
What  freights  of  genius  on  that  rock  had  fplit  ? 
Where  now  were  learning,  and  where  now  were 

wit? 

MaturM  and  full  the  rifing  foreft  grows, 
Ere  its  wife  owner  lops  th'  advancing- boughs : 
For  oaks,  like  arts,  a  length  of  years  demand, 
And  Ihade  the  fhepherd,  ere  they  grace  the  land. 
Where  then  may  cenfure  fall  ?  'tis  hard  to  fay  ; 
On  all  that's  wrong  it  may  not,  and  it  may. 
In  lifs,  as  arts,  it  aiks  our  niceil  care, 
But  hurts  us  more,  as  more  immediate  there. 
Refign  we  freely  to  th'  unthinking  crowd' 
^  Their  {landing  jeft,  which  fwellsthe  laugh  fo  loud, 
The  mountain  hack,  or  Read  advanc'd  too  high, 
A  leg  mif-lhapen,  <jr  ciiftorted  eye : 
We  pity  faults  by  nature's  hand  impreft ; 
Thcrfites'  mind,  hut  not  his  form's  the  jeft. 

Here  then  we  fix,  and  lafli  without  controul 
Thefe  mental  pefts,  and  hydras  of  the  foul ; 
Acquir'd  ill-nature,  ever  prompt  debate, 
A  zeal  for  flander,  and  delib'rate  hate  : 
Thefe  court  contempt,  proclaim  the  public  foe, 
And  each  *  Ulyfles  like,  fliould  aim  the  blow. 
Yet  fure,  ev'n  here,  our   motives    fliould  be 

known : 

Rail  we  to  check  his  fpleen,  or  eafe  our  own  ? 
Does  injur'd  virtue  ev'ry  (haft  fupply, 
Arm  the  keen  tongue,  and  flufti  th'  erected  eye  ? 
Or  do  we  from  onrfelves  ourfelves  difguife ; 
And  act,  perhaps,  the  villain  we  chaftife? 
Hope  we  to  mend  him  ?  hopes,  alas,  how  vain  I 
He  feels  the  lafh,  not  liftensto  the  reign. 

'Tis  dangerous  too,  in  thefe  licentious  times, 
Howe'er  fevere  the  fmile,  to  fport  with  crimes, 
Vices  when  ridicul'd,  experience  fays,  *) 

Firft  lofe  that  horror  which  they  ought  to  raifeV 
Grow  by  degrees  approved,  and  almoft  aim  at  f 


When  Tally's  tongue  the  Roman  Clodius  draws, 
How  laughing  fatire  weakens  Mile's  caiife  ! 
Each  pictur'd  vice  fo  impudertly  bad, 
The  crimes  turn  frolics,  and  the  villain  mad ; 
Rapes,  murders,  inceft,  treafons,  mirth  create,        ,. 
And  Rome  fcarce  hates  the  author  of  her  fate. 

'Tis  true,  the  comic  mufe,  confin'd  to  rules, 
Supply'd  the  laws,  and  fham'd  the  tardy  fchools; 
With  living  precepts  urg'd  the  moral  truth, 
And  by  example  form'd  the  yielding  youth. 
/.The  titled  knave  with  honeft  freedom  fhown, 
His"  perfon  mimic'd,  nor  his  name  unknown, 
Taught  the  young  breaft  its  opening  thoughts  t« 

raife 

From  dread  of  infamy  to  love  oj[  praife, 
From  thence  to  virtue ;  there  perfection  ends, 
As  gradual  from  the  root  the  flower  afcends ; 
Strain'd  through   the  varying  ftems  the  juicet 

flow, 
Bloom  o'er  the  top,  and  leave  their  dregs  below- 

'Twas  thus  a  while  th'  inftructiv^  ftage  furvey'd, 
From  breaft  to  breaft  its  glowing  influence  fpread. 
Till,  from  his  nobler  talk  by  pamons  won, 
The  man  unravell'd  what  the  bard  had  done ; 
And  he,  whofe  warmth  had  fir'd  a  nation's  heart, 
Debas'd  to  private  piques  the  gen'rous  art. 
Here  funk  the  mufe,  and,  ufelefs  by  degrees, 
She  ceas'd  to  profit,  as  fhe  ceas'd  to  pleafe. 
No  longer  wit  a  judging  audience  charm'd, 
Who,  rous'd  not  fir'd,  not  raptur'd  but  alarm'd, 
To  well-tnn'd  fcandal  lent  a  jealous  ear, 
And  through  the  faint  applaufe  betray'd  the  fear. 

We,  like  Menander,  more  difcreetly  dare, 
And  well-bred  fatire  wears  a  milder  ;iir. 
Still  vice  we  brand,  or  titled  fools  difgrace, 
But  drefs  in  fable's  guife  the  borrow'd  face. 
Or  as  the  bee,  through  nature's  wild  retreats, 
Drinks  the  moifb  fragrance  from  th'  unconfcious 

fweets, 

To  injure  none,  we  lightly  range  the  ball, 
And  glean  from  diff'rent  knaves  the  copious  gall; 
Extract,  compound,  with  all  a  chemift's  flcill, 
And  claim  the  motley  characters  who  will. 
Happy  the  mufe,  could  thus  her  tuneful  aid 
To  fenfe,  to  virtue,  wake  the  more  than  dead  ! 
But  few  to  fiction  lend  attentive  ears, 
They  view  the  face,  but  foon  forget  'tis  theirs. 
"  JTwas  not  from  them  the  bard  their  likenefs 

"  ftole, 

"  The  random  pencil  haply  hit  the  mole  ; 
"  Ev'n  from  their  prying  foes  fuch  fpecks  retreat;" 
— They  hide  them  from  themfelves,  'and  crowa 

the  cheat. 

Or  fliould,  perhaps,  fome  fofter  clay  admit 
The  fly  imprcflions  of  inftructive  wit; 
To  virtue's  fide  in  confcious  filence  fleal, 
And  glow  with  goodnefs,  e»e  we  find  they  feel ; 
Yet  more,  'tis  fear'd,  will  clofer  methods  take, 
And  keep  with  caution  what  they  can't  fotfake ; 
For  fear  of  man  ii>  his  moft  mirthful  mood, 
May  make  us  hypocrites,  but  feldom  good. 
And  what  avails  that  feas  confefs  their  bounds, 
If  fubtler  infects  fap  the  Belgian  mounds  ? 
Though  no  wing'd  mifchief  cleave  the  mid-day 

fides, 

Still  through  the  dark  the  baleful  venom  flies, 
Still  virtue  feels  afure'though  ling'ring  fate, 
And,  ftabb'd.  in  fecrct,  bleeds  th'  unguarded  ftaicj 


POEMS. 


Befidcs,  i*  men  hare  varying  pafllons  made 
Such  nice  confufions,  blending  light  with  fhade, 
That  eager  zeal  to  laugh  the  vice  ay/ay 
May  hurt  fome  virtue's  intermingling  ray. 
Mens  faults,  like  Martin's  *  broider'd  coat,  de 
mand 

The  niceft  touches  of  the  fteadieft  hand. 
Some  yield  with  eafe,  while-  fome  their  pofls 

maintain ; 

And  parts  defective  will  at  laft  rpmain.  [bend  ; 
There,  where  they  beft  fucceed,  your  labours 
Nor  render  ufelcfs,  what  you  drive  to  mend. 

The  youthful  Curio  blufh'd  whene'er  he  fpoke, 
His  ill-tim'd  modefty  the  general  joke  ;  [dure — 
Sneer'd  by  his  friends,  nor  could  that  fneer  en- 
Behold,  fad  inftance  of  their  fleill  to  cure  !  [fore, 
The  confcious  blood,  which  fir'd  his  cheek  be- 
Now  leaves  his  bofom  cool,  and  warns  no  more. 

But  affectation — there,  we  all  confefs, 
Strong  are  the  motives,  aud  the  danger  lefs. 
§ure  we  may  fmile  where  fools  themfelves  have 

made, 

As  balk'd  fpeclators  of  a  farce  ill  play'd, 
And  laugh,  if  fatire's  breath  fhould  rudely  raife 
The  painted  plumes  which  vanity  difplays. 

O  fruitful  fource  of  everlafting  mirth ! 
For  fools,  like  apes,  are  mimics  from  their  birth. 
By  fafliion  govern'd,  nature  each  neglects, 
And  barters  graces  for  admir'd  defeats. 
The  artful  hypocrites,  who  virtue  wear, 
Confefs,  at  leaft^  the  facred  form  is  fair ; 
And  apes  of  fcience  equally  allow 
The  fcholar's  title  to  the  laurell'd  brow ; 
But  what  have  thofe  'gainft  fatire's  lafh  to  plead, 
Who  court  with  zeal  what  others  fly  with  dread? 
Affe<ft  ev'n  vice  !  poor  folly's  laft  excefs, 
As  Picfts  miftook  deformity  for  drefs,       [charms, 
And   fmear'd   with   fo   much   art  their  hideous 
That  the  grim  beauty  fcar'd  you  from  her  arms. 

Too  oft  thefe.  follies  f  balk  in  virtue's  fhine, 
The  wild  luxuriance  of  a  foil  too  fine. 
Yet  oh,  reprefs  them,  wherefoe'er  they  rife— 
But  how  perform  it  ? — there  the  danger  lies. 
Short  are  the  leffons  taught  in  nature's  fchbol, 
Here  each  peculiar  alks  a  fep'rate  rule. 
Nice  is  the  tafk,  be  gen'ral  if  you  can, 
Or  firike  with  caution,  if  you  point  the  man  : 
And  ihink,  O  think,  the  caufe  by  all  affign'd 
To  raife  our  laughter,  makes  it  moft  unkind  : 
For  though  from  nature  thefe  no  ftrength  re 
ceive, 

We  give  them  nature  when  we  bid  them  live. 
Like  Jove's  Minerva  fprings  the  gentle  train, 
The  genuine  offspring  of  each  teeming  brain ; 
On  which,  like  tend'reft  fires,  we  fondly  doat, 
Plan  future  fame  in  luxury  of  thought, 
And  fcarce  at  laft,  o'erpower'd  by  foes  or  friends, 
Torn  from  our  breafts,  the  dear  delufion  ends. 

Then  let  good-nature  every  charm  exert, 
And,  while  it  mends  it,  win  th'  enfolding  heart. 
l^et  moral  mirth  a  face  of  triumph  wear, 
Yet  fmile  unconfcious  of  th'  extorted  tear. 
See,  with  what  grace  inftructive  fatire  flows, 
Politely  keen,  in  Clio's  number'd  profe  ! 
That  great  example  fhould  our  zeal  excite, 
Acd  cenfors  learn  from  Addifon  to  write. 

*  Tale  of  a  Tub,  f  Affeftations. 


So,  in  our  age,  too  prone  to  fport  with  pain, 
Might  foft  humanity  refume  her  reign  ; 
Pride  without  rancour  feel  th'  objected  fault, 
And  folly  blufh,  as  willing  to  be  taught ; 
Critics  grow  mild,  life's  witty  warfare  ccafe, 
And  trus  good-nature  breathe  the  balm  of  peace. 


ON  NOBILITY. 

AN  EPISTLE  TO  THE  EARL  OF 

POETS,  my  lord,  by  fome  unlucky  fate 

Condemn'd  to  flatter  the  too  ealy  great, 

Have  oft,  regardlefs  of  their  heav'n-born  flame, 

Enflirin'd  a  title,  and  ador'd  a  name ; 

For  idol  deities  forfook  the  true, 

And  paid  to  greatnefs  what  was  virtue's  due. 

Yet  hear,  at  leaft,  one  recreant  bard  maintain 
Their  incenle  fruitlefs,  and  your  honours  vain  : 
Teach  you  to  fcorn  th'  auxiliar  props,  that  raife    . 
The  painted  produce  of  thefe  fun-fhine  days; 
Proud  from  yourfelf,  like  India's  worm,  to  weave 
Th'  ennobling  thread,  which  fortune  cannot  give. 
In  two  fhort  precepts  your  whole  lellbn  lies ; 
Would  you  be  great  ? — be  virtuous,  and  be  wife. 

In  elder  time,  e'er  heral4s  yet  were  known. 
To  gild  the  vain  with  glories  not  their  own  ; 
Or  infant  language  law  fiich  terms  prevail, 
As  fefs  and  chev'ron,  pale  and  coatrepale; 
'Twas  he  alone  th6  fhaggy  fpoils  might  wear, 
Whofe  ftrength  fubdu'd  the  lion,  or  the  bear; 
For  him  the  rofy  fpring  with  fmiles  beheld 
Her  honours  ftript  from  every  grove  and  field  ; 
For  him  the  ruftic  quires  with  fongs  advance  ; 
For  him  the  virgins  form  the  annual  dance. 
Born  to  protecT:,  like  gods  they  hail  the  brave; 
And  fure  'twas  godlike,  to  be  born  to  fave  '. 

In  Turkey  ftill  thefe  fimple  manners  reign, 
Though  Pharatriond  has  liv'd,  and  Charlemagne: 
The  cottage  hind  may  there  admitted  rife 
A  chief,  or  ftatefman,  as  his  talent  lies  ; 
And  all,  but  Olhman's  race,  the  only  proud, 
Fall  with  their  fires,  and  mingle  with  the  crowd* 

Politer  courts,  ingenious  to  extend 
The  father's  virtues,  bid  his  pumps  defcend  ; 
Chiefs  premature  with  fujfive  wreaths  adorn, 
And  force  to  glory  heroes  yet  unborn, 
*Plac'd  like  Hamilcar's  ion,  their  path's  confined. 
Forward  they  muft,  for  monfters  prefs  behind; 
Monfters  more  dire  than  Spain's,  or  Barca's  l'n&ke% 
If  fame  they  grafy  not,  infamy  o'errakes. 
'Tis  the  fame  virtue's  vigorous,  juft  effort 
Muft  grace  alike  St.  James's  or  the  Porte; 
Alike,  my  i?rd,  mult  Turk,  or  61-111111  peer, 
Be  to  his  king,  and  to  his  country  dear; 
Alike  mult  either  honour's  cauie  maintain, 
You  to  preferve  a  fame,  and  they  to  gain. 

*  Ibi  farna  eft,  in  quiete  vifiirn  ab  co  yti-'jenerti 
diiiind fyecie,  quife  ab  jfovt  diceret  diicem  in  Ita- 
liatn  Annibali  mijum,  Proinde  ftqueretur,  neqne 
ufquam  a  fe  deji^Sleret  oculas.  Pavidum  primo, 
nufqaam  refpicientem,  &c. — Ta>idem,~—tetnperare 
oculis  nequiviij'e  :  turn  vidijfe  po/t  fe  ferpentetn 
tnird  magnitudine  cum  ingenti  arborum  ac  virgul- 
t'jrumjirageffrri,  bV.  Liv.  lib.  sxi.  c.  23* 


THE   WORKS    OF   W.    WHITEHEAD. 


For  birth— —precarious  were  that  boafted  gem, 
Though  worth  flow'd  copious  in  the  vital  ftream: 
(Of  which  a  fad  reverfe  iiiftorians  preach, 
And  fage  experience  proves  the  truths  they  teach.) 
For  fay,  ye  great,  who  boaft  another's  fears, 
And,  like  Bufiris.  end  among  the  ftars, 
What  is  this  boon  of  heav'rj  ?  dependent  ftill 
On 'woman's  weaknefs,  and  on  woman's  will. 
Might  not,  in  Pagan  days,  and  open  air, 
Some  wand'ring Jove  furprife  th"  unguarded  fair? 
And  did  your  gentle  grandames  always  prove 
Stern  rebels  to  the  charms  of  lawlefs  love  ? 
And  never  pity'd,  at  fome  tender  time, 
*  A  dying  Damian,  with'ring  in  his  prime? 
Or,  more  politely  to  their  vows  untrue, 
Lov'd,  and  elop'd,  as  modern  ladies  do  ? 

But  grant  them  virtuous,  were  they  all  of  birth  ? 
Did  never  nobles  mix  with  vulgar  earth, 
And  city  maids  to  envy'd  heights  tranflate, 
Subdu'd  by  palfion,  and  decay'd  eftate  ? 
Or,  figh,  ftill  humbler,  to  the  paffing  gales 
By  turf-built  cots  in  daify-painted  va(es  ? 
Who  does  not,  Pamela,  thy  fuff'nngs  feel? 
Who  has  not  wept  at  beauteous  Griiel's  wheel  ?  , 
f  And  each  fair  marchionefs,  that  Gallia  pours 
(Exotic  forrows)  to  Britannia's  Ihores  ? 

Then  blame  us  not,  if  backward  to  comply 
With  your  demands :  we  fear  a  forgery. 
In  fpite  of  patents,  and  of  kings  decrees, 
And  blooming  coronets  on  parchment-trees. 
Your  proofs  are  gone,  your  very  claims  are  loft, 
But  by  the  manners  of  that  race  you  boaft. 
O  if  true  virtue  fires  their  gen'rous  blood, 
The  feel  for  fame,  the  pant  for  public  good, 
The  kind  concern  for  innocence  diltreft, 
The  Titus'  wifli  to  make  a  people  b'eft, 
At  every  deed  we  fee  their  lather's  tomb 
Shoot  forth  new  laurels  in  eternal  bloom; 
We  hear  the  rattling  car,  the  neighing  fteeds, 
A  Poictiers  thunders,  and  a  Crefly  bleeds  ! 
Titles  and  birth,  like  di'monds  trum  the  mine, 
Muft  by  your  worth  be  polifh'd  e'er  they  Unne  ; 
Thence  drink  new  luitre,  there  unite  their  rays, 
And  llream  through  ages  one  unfully'd  blaze. 

But  what  avails  the  creft  with  flow'ret*  crown'd, 
The  mother  virtuous,  or  the  fires  renown'd, 
If,  from  the  breathing  walls,  thofe  fires  behold 
The  midnight  gamefter  trembling  for  his  gold: 
And  lee  thofe  hours,   when  fleep  their  toils  re- 

pair'd,  [;:unrd,) 

(Or,    if  they    wak'd,    they  wak'd   for    Britain's 
No\v  on  lewd  loves  beftow'd,  or  drcnch'd  in  wine, 
Drown  and  embrute  the  particle  divine? 
How  muft  they  wifti,  with  many  a  fi^h,  unheard 
The  warmeft  pray'r  they  once  to  htav'n  prefer' d  ! 
When  not  content  with  fame  for  kingdoms  won, 
They  fought  an  added  boon,  and  alk'd  a  ion; 
That  cioud  eternal  in  their  Iky  ferene,. 
That  dull  dead  weight  that  drags  them  down  to 

men, 

And  fpeaks  as  plainly  as  the  mufe's  tongue, 
f  Frail  were  the  fires  from  whom  we  mortals 

fprung." 


*  See  January  and  May  in  Chaucer,  and  Mr, 
Pope. 

}  Marriane,  the  Fortunate  Country  Maid,  &c. 


Incenfe  to  fuchmaybreathe.butbreathesinvaiB, 
The  dulky  vapour  but  obfcures  the  fane  : 
*Loretto's  lady  like,  fuch  patrons  bear 
The  fiatt'-ring  ftainsof  many  a  live-long  year; 
While  but  to  fliame  them  beams  fictitious  day, 
And  their  own  filth  th'  eternal  lamps  betray. 
Tell  us  ye  names  preferv'd  from  Charles's  times 
In  dedication  profe,  heroic  rhymes; 
Would  ye  not  now,  with  equal  ]oy  relign 
(Though  taught  to  now  in  Dryden's  ttrain  divine) 
The  awkard  virtues  never  meant  to  fit, 
The  alien  morals,  and  imputed  wit, 
Whofe  very  praife  but  lends  a  fatal  breath 
To  fave  expiring  infamy  from  death  ? 
And  yet,  in  conqu'ring  vice  fmall  virtue  lies; 
The  weak  can  fhun  it,  and  the  vain  detpife. 
'Tis  yours  my  lord,  to  form  a  nobler  aim, 
And  build  on  active  merit  endlefs  fame; 
Unlike  the  loit'ring,  ftill  forgotten  crowd, 
Who,  ev'n  at  beft  but  negatively  good,          [days. 
Through   floth's  dull  round  drag  out  a  length  of 
While  life's  dun  taper  gradually  decays  ; 
And  numbers  fall,  and  numbers  rife  the  fame, 
Their  country's  burden,  and  their  nature's  ihame. 

What  though  in  youth,  while  fiatt'riag  hopes 

prefume 

On  health's  vain  floyrifli  for  long  years  to  come, 
Thoughtlefs  and  gay,  a  mad  good-nature  draws 
Prom  followers  flatt'ry,  and  frc/m  crowd*  ap- 

plaufe  ; 

Nay  from  the  wife,  by  fome  capricious  whim, 
Should,  mis'd  with  pity,  force  a  faint  efteem : 
Yet  will  in  age  that  fyren  charm  prevail, 
When  cares  grow  peevifli,  and  wheji  fpirits  fail  j 
Or  muft,  delpis'd,  each  fool  of  fortune  ligh 
O'er  years  mifpent  with  retrofpe drive  eye, 
Till  pomp's  iaft  honours  load  the  pageant  bier. 
And  much  folemmty  without  a  tear?     • 

'Tis  yours  with  judgment  nobly  to  beftow, 
And  treafure  joys  the  bounteous  only  know. 
See,  fav'd  from  floth  by  you,  with  venial  pride, 
Laborious  health  the  ftubborn  glebe  divide  ; 
Instructed  want  her  folded  arms  unbend. 
And  (railing  induftry  the  loom  attend. 
Yours  too  the  talk  to  fpread  indulgent  eafe, 
Steal  cares  from  wrinkled  age,  difarm  difeafe; 
Infulted  worth  from  proud  oppreflion  fcreen, 
And  give  neglected  fcience  where  to  lean. 
Titles,  like  ftandard-flags,  exalted  rife, 
To  tell  the  wretched  where  protection  lies ; 
And  he  who  hear.^  unmov'd  affliction's  claim, 
Delertshis  duty,  and  denies  his  name. 

N'or  is't  enough,  though  to  no  bounds  confin'd, 
Your  cares  inftruct,  or  bounties  blefs  mankind. 
Tis  yours,  my  lord,  with  various  Ikill  to  trace, 
By  hiftory's  clue,  the  ftatefman's  fubtle  maze  ; 
Oblerve  the  fprings  that  mov'd  each  nice  machine, 
Not  laid  loo  open,  and  not  drawn  too  thin  : 
From  Grecian  mines  bring  fterling  treafures  home, 
And  grace  your  Britain  with  the  fpoils  of  Rome ; 
But  chief  that  Britain's  gradual  rife  behold, 
The  changing  world's  reverfe,  from  lead  to  gold  : 
Happy  at  Iaft,  through  ftorms  in  freedom's  caufe. 
Through  fierce  prerogative,  and  trampled  laws, 

*  See  Dr.  Middleton's  Letter  from  Rome, 
edit,  oftavo')  page  155. 


P    O    £    M    S. 


To  blend  iuc.li  teeming  inconfiftent  things, 
As  ftrength  with  eafe,  and  liberty  with  kings. 
Know  too,    where  Europe's  wav'ring  fates   de 
pend, 

What  ftates  c«n  injure,  and  what  ftates  defend, 
Their  ftrength,  their  arts.their  policies  your  own — 
And  then,  like  Pelham,  make  that  wifdom  known. 
Wake  ev'ry  latent  faculty  of  foul, 
Teach  from  your  lips  the  glowing  fenfe  to  roll, 
Till  lift'ning  fenates  blefs  the  kind  alarm, 
Convinced,  not  dazzled,  and  with  judgment  warm. 

Superior  talents,  on  the  great  beftow'd. 
Are  Heav'n's  peculiar  instruments  of  good  : 
3Not  for  the  few,  who  have  them,  are  defign'd  : 
What  flows  from  heav'n  muft  flow  for  all  man 
kind. 

Blufli  then,  ye  peers,  who,  niggards  of  your  ftore, 
Brood  o'er  the  mining  heap,  not  make  it  more  ; 
Or  Wilmot  like,  at  fome  poor  fool's  expence, 
Squander  in  wit  the  facred  funds  of  fenfe. 
Wifdom  alone  is  true  ambition's  aim, 
Wifdom  the  fource  of  virtue,  and  of  fame, 
Obtain'd  with  labour,  for  mankind  employ'd, 
And    then,    when    moil  you  (hare   it,    belt    en- 


See  !  on  yon  fea-girt  ifle  the  goddefs  ftands, 
And  calls  her  vot'rys  with  applauding  hands  ! 
They  pant,  they  drain,  they  glow  through  climes 

unknown. 

With  added  ftrength,  and  fpirits  not  their  own. 
Hark  !  what  loud  fliouts  each  glad  arrival  hail  '. 
How  full  fame's  fragrance  breathes  in  ev'ry  gale  ! 
How  tempting  nod  the  groves  for  ever  green  ! 
— "  But  tempers  roar,  and  oceans  roll  between." — 
Yet  fee,  my  lord,  your  friends  around  you  brave 
That  roaring  tempeft,  and  contending  wave. 

See lab'ring  through  the  billowy  tide ! 

See impatient  for  the  adverfe  fide  ! 

O  much-lov'd  youths !  to  Britain  juftly  dear^ 
Her  fpring,  and  promife  of  a  fairer  year. 
Succefs  be  theirs,  whate'er  their  hopes  engage, 
Worth  grace  their  youth,  and  honours  crown  their 

age, 
And  ev'ry  warmeft  wifli  fincere,  and  free, 

My  foul  e'er  breathes,  O ,  for  thee  ! 

Hard  is  your  dated  tafk  by  all  allow'd, 
And  modern  greatnefs  rarely  burfts  the  cloud. 
LulI'd  high  in  fortune's  filken  lap,  you  feel 
No  fliocks,  nor  turns  of  her  uncertain  wheel : 
Amufements  Jazzle,  weak  admirers  gaze, 
And  flatt'ry  fooths,  and  indolence  betrays. 
Yet  ftill,  my  lord,  on  happy  peers  attends 
That  nob'.eft  privilege,  to  choofe  their  friends ; 
The  wife,  the  good  are  theirs,  their  call  obey  ; 
If  pride  refufe  not,  fortune  points  the  way. 
I^or  great  your  toils,   on  wifdom's  feas,    com- 

par'd 

With  theirs  who  (Lift  the  fail,  or  watch  the  card. 
For  you,  the  fages  every  depth  explore, 
For  you,  the  Haves  of  fciencc  ply  the  oar; 
And  nature's  genii  fly  with  fails  unfurl'd, 
The  Drake's  and  Raleigh's  of  the  mental  world. 

But  ftay — too  long  mere  Englilh  lays  detain 
Your  light-wing'd  thoughts,  that  rove  beyond  the 

main : 

Nofancy'd  voyage  there  expecls  the  gale, 
No  allegoric  zephyr  fwells  the  fail. 

.Vet.  xr. 


—Yet,  e'er  you  go,  e'er  Gallia's  pomp  invades 
The  milder  truth's  of  Crania's  peaceful  (hades, 
This  verfe  at  l?aft  be  yours,  and  boldly  tell, 
'['hat  if  you  fall,  not  unadvis'd  you  fell ;   ' 
But,  bleft  with  virtue  and  with  fenfe  adorn'd, 
A  willing  victim  of  the  fools  you  fcorn'd. 

AN  HYMN  TO  THE  NYMPH  OF  BRISTOL 
SPRING,  1751. 

"  Hinc  atque  hinc  vaftae  tupes,  geminique  mi- 

narttur 

"  In  coehim  fcopnli  ;  turn  fylvis  fcena  corufcis 
"  Defuper,    horientique   atrum    Nemus  imminet 

vmhra. 

"  Intus  Aqux  dulcet,  vivoque  fedilia  faxo 
"  NYMPWARUM  domus!" —  VIRO. 

NYMPH  of  the  fount  !  from  whofe  aufpicious  urn 
Flows  health,  flows  ftrength,  and  beauty's  rofeate 

bloom, 

Which  warms  the  virgin's  cheek,  thy  gifts  I  Cng! 
Whether  inclining  from  thy  rorky  couch 
Thou  hear'ft  attentive, 'or  with  fifter-nymphs 
Faft  by  Sabina's  hoarfe-refounding  ftream, 
Thou  ciill'ft  frefl>  flowers,  regardlefs  of  my  long. 

Avonia,    hear'ft   thou,    from    the    neighb'ring 

ftream 

So  call'd  ;  or  Briftoduna  ;  or  the  found 
Well  known,  *Vincentia?  Sithence  from  thy  rock 
The  hermit  pour'd  his  orifons  of  old, 
And,  dying,  to  thy  fount  bequeath'd  his  name. 

Whate'er  thy  title,  ihee  the  azure  god 
Of  ocean  erft  beheld,  and  to  the  fhore 
Faft  flew  his  pearly  car ;  th'  obfequious  winds 
Dropp'd  their  light  pinions,  and  110  founds  were 

heard 

In  earth,  air,  fea,  but  murmuring  fighsof  love. 
He  left  thee  then  •,  yet  not  penurious,  left 
Without  a  boon  the  violated  maid  ; 
But,  grateful  to  thy  worth,  with  bounteous  hand 
Gave  thee  to  pour  the  ialutary  rill, 
And  pay  this  precious  tribute  to  the  main. 
f  And  liill  he  vifits,  faithful  to  his  flame, 
Thy  moift  abode,  and  each  returning  tide 
Mingles  his  wave  with  thine  ;  hence  brackifh  oft 
And  foul,  we  fly  th'  adulterated  draught 
And  fcorn  the  proffer'd  bev'rage  ;  thoughtlefs  we, 
That  then  thy  naiads  hymenaeals  chaunt. 
And  rocks  re-echo  to  the  triton's  (hell.  fPa7 

Love  warm'cl  thy  brsail ;  to  love  thy  waters 
A  kind  regard  :  and  thence  the  pallid  maid 
Who  pines  in  fancy  for  forns  fav'rite  youth 
Drinks  in  new  luftre,  and  with  furer  aim 
Darts  more  enliven'd  glances.     Thence  the  boy, 
Who  mourns  in  fecret  the  polluted  charms 
J  Of  Lais  or  Corinna,  grateful  feels 
Health's  warm  return,  and  panis  for  purer  joys. 

|       *  77.>s  fpring  at  Bri/loi  is  tifually  called  St. 
|  Vincent**  Well,  arid  the  rocks  near  it  St.  fin- 
cent's  Rocks,  on  a  fabulous  tradition  that  that  faint 
refidsd  there. 

f  The  high  tides  in  the  Avon  generally  fovl 
the  fpring  in  fuel]  a  manner  as  to  make  the  wa 
ters  improper  to  be  drank  till  fome  hours  after* 
ward. 

3  M 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.  WHITEHEAD. 


Nor  youth  alone -j;hy  power  indulgent  owns; 
3ge  mares  thy -bleffings,  and  the  tott'ring  frame 
By  th  e  fupportfd  :  not,  Tithonus-like, 
To  1-nger  in  decay,  and  daily  feel 
A  death  in  every  pain  ;  fuch  cruel  aids, 
Unknown  to  nanire,  art  alone  can  lend  : 
B'.'.t,  taught  by  thee,  life's  latter  fruits  enjoy 
A  warmer  winter,  and  at  irttl  fall  off, 
Shbok.  by  no  boilt'rous,  or  untimely  blafts. 

But  why  on  fingle  objects  dwells  my  fong  ? 
Wide  as  the  neighb'ring  fons  of  commerce  waft 
Thfir  inexhaufteci  ftores,  to  every  clime 
On  every  wind  up-borne  thy  triumphs  fpread  ! 
Thee  the  glad  merchant  hails,  whom  choice  or 

fate 

Leads  to  Ibme  diftant  home,  where  Sirins  reigns, 
And  the  blood  boils  with  many  a  fell  dife;  l~e 
"Which  Albion  knows  not.    Thee  the  fable  wretch 
To  eafe  whofe  burning  entrails  fwells  in  vain 
The  citron's  dewy  moiiture,  thee  he  hails  ; 
And  oft  from  fooie  fteep  cliff,  at  early  dawn, 
lo  leas,  in  winds,  or  the  vaft  void  of  heaven 
Ttiy  power  unknown  adores ;  or  ranks,  perhaps, 
Amid  his  fabled  gods  Avonia's  name. 

Scar'd  at  thy  prefence  ftart  the  train  of  death, 
And  hide  their  whips  and  fcorpions.     Thee  con- 

fus'd 

Slow  Febris  creeps  from  ;  thee  the  meagre  fiend 
Confumption  flies,  and  checks  his  rattling  coughs. 
IJr.t  chief  the  dread  difeUfe,  whofe  wat'ry  pow'r 
Giirb'd  by  thy  wave  reftringent,  knows  its  bounds, 
And  feels  a  firmer  barrier.     Ocean  thus 
Once  flow'd,  they  fay,  impetuous;   till  reftrain'd 
By  force  almighty,  ftreams  were  taught  to  flow 
In  narrower  channels,  and  once  more  relieve 
The  thirfty  hind,  and  warn  the  fruitful  vale. 

XVhat  fhrieks,  what  groans,  torment  the    la- 

b'ring  air, 

And  pierce  th'  aftonifh'd  hearer?  ah,  behold 
Yon  agonizing  wretch,  that  pants  and  writhes, 
Rack'd  with  the  (tone,  and  calls  on  thee  for  eafe  ! 
NSr  calls  he  long  in  vain ;  the  balmly  draught 
Has  done  its  office,  and  refign'd  and  calm 
The  poor  pale  fufferer  finks  to  fweet  repofe. 
O  could  thy  lenient  wave  thus  charm  to  peace 
That  fiercer  fiend  Ill-nature  ;  Argus-like, 
Whofe  eyes  ftill  open  watch  th'  unwary  fte'ps 
\Vhich  tread  thy  margin,  and  whofe  fubtle  brain 
To  real  mifchief  turns  ideal  ills !  - 
But  not  thy  ftfeam  neclareous,  nor  the  faiiles 
Of  rofy  dimpled  innocence,  can  charm 
That  monfter's   rage:    dark,   dark   as  midnight 

damps, 

And  ten  times  deadlier,  fteals  along  unfeen 
Her  blaftinfr  venom,  and  devours  at  once 
Fair  virtiit's'grow'th,  and  beauty's  blooming fpring. 

But  turn  we  from  the  Sght,  and  dive  beneath 
Thy  darkibme  caverns ,  or  unwearied  climb 
Thy  tow'ring  mountain:.,  ftudnus  to  explore 
The.  Utent  leech  and  ma^^z  nes  of  health. 

"  Ye  rocks  that  round  me  rife,  ye  pendant 

woods 

High  waving  to  the  breeze,  ye  gliding  ftreams 
That  fteal  in  filence  through  the  rnotft  cierts 
Cnnumber'd,  tell  roe  i:i  what  fecret  vale 
Hjrgeia  fhuns  the  day  ?—  O,  often  ieen 
In  Streams  p«€tic,  pour  thy  radiant  form 


,  Full  on  my  fight,  and  blefs  my  waking  fenfe  I— « 
But  not  to  me  fuch  vifions,  not  to  me  ; 
No  fon  of  Paean  I,  like  that  fweet  bard 
*  Who  fung  her  charms  profeft;  f  or  him,  whofe 

mule 

Now  builds  the  lo'fty  rhyme,  aad  nobly  wild 
Ciops  each  u:. fading  flower  from  Pindar's  brow, 
To  form  frefh  garlands  for  the  naiad  train. 

Yet  will  I  view  her  ftill,  however  coy, 
In  dreams  poetic  ;  fee  her  to  the  found 
Of  dulcet  fymphonies  harmonious  lead 
Her  fportive  filter-graces,  Mirth  ferene, 
And  feace,  fweet  inmate  of  the  fylvan  fhade. 

Thefe  are  thy  handmaids,  goddefs  of  the  fount, 
And  thefe  thy  offspring.     Oft  have  I  beheld 
Their  airy  revels  on  the  verdant  fteep 
Of  Avon,  clear  as  fancy's  eye  could  paint, 
What  time  the  dewy  ftar  of  eve  invites 
To  lonely  mufing,  by  the  wave-worn  beach, 
Along  the  extended  mead.     Nor  lefs  intent 
.Their  fairy  forms  I  view,  when  from  the  height 
Of  Clifton,  tow'ring  mount,  th'  enraptur'd  eye 
Beholds  the  cultivated  profpecl  rife 
Hill  above  hill,  with  many  a  verdant  bound 
Of  hedge-row  chequer'd.  Now  on  painted  clouds 
Sportive  they  roll,  or  down  yon  winding  ftream 
Give  their  light  mantles  to  the  wafting  wind, 
And  join  the  fea-green  fifters  of  the  flood. 

Happy  the  man  whom  thefe  amufive  walks, 
Thefe  waking  dreams  delight  I  no  cares  moleft 
His  vacant  bofom  :  Solitude  itfelf 
But  opens  to  his  keener  view  new  worlds, 
Worlds  of  his  own  :  from  every  genuine  fcene 
Of  nature's  varying  hand  his  active  mind 
Takes  fire  at  once,  and  his  full  foul  o'erflows 
With  Heaven's  own  bounteous  joy ;  he  too  cre 
ates, 

And  with  new  beings  peoples  earth  and  air, 
And  ocean's  deep  domain.     The  bards  of  old, 
The  godlike  Grecian  bards,  from  fuch  fair  founts 
Drank  infpiration.     Hence  on  airy  clifts 
Light  fatyrs  danc'd,  along  the  woqdland  fhade 
Pan's  myftic  pipe  refounded,  and  each  rill 
Confefs'd  its  tutelary  pow.er,  like  thine. 

But  not  like  thine,  bright  deity,  their  urns 
Pour'd   health's  rare   treafures;    on  their  grafly 

fides 

The  panting  fwain  reclin'd  with  his  tir'd  flock 
At  fultry  noontide,  or  at  evening  led 
His  uhyok'd  heifers  to  the  common  ftream. 

Yet  fome  there  have  been,  and  there  are,  like 

thee 

Profufe  of  liquid  balm  ;  from  the  fair  train 
t  Of  eldeft  Tadmor,  where  the  fapient  king 
For  the  faint  traveller,  and  difeas'd,  confin'd 
To  faulutary  baths  the  fugitive  ftream. 
And  ftill,  though  now  perhaps  their  power  un 
known, 


*  Dr.  Artnflrong,  author  of  that  elegant  didac 
tic  poem,  called,  "  The  Art  of  preferring  Health." 

f  Alluding  to  a  mam/fcript  poem  of  Dr.  Aken- 
fide's,  ffince  fjibliftedj  writ 'f en  in  the  fpirit  and 
manner  of  tie  ancients,  called,  "  An  Hymn  to  the 
Water  Nymphs." 

|  TiidtnT  in  the  ivilderneft,  luilt  by  king  St- 
lotnon,  celebrated  for  its  baths. 


POEMS, 


Vufoughr,  the  folitary  waters  creep 
Amid  *  Palmyra's  ruins,  and  bewail 
To  rocks,  and  defert  caves,  the  mighty  lofs 
Of  two  imperial  cities  !  to  may  fink 
Yon  cloud-envelop'd  towers;  and  times  to  come 
Inquire  where  Avon  flow'd,  and  the  proud  mart 
Of  Briftol  role.     Nay,  Severn's  felf  may  fail, 
With  all  that  wafte  of  waters  :  and  the  fwain 
From  the  tall  fumrait  (whence  we  now  furvey 
The  anchoring  bark,  and  fee  with  every  tide 
Pafs  and  repafs  the  wealth  of  either  world) 
May  hail  the  fofter  fcene  whete  groves  afpire, 
And  bofom'd  villages,  and  golden  fields 
Unite  the  Cambrian  to  the  Englifh  more. 
Why  fhould  I  mention  many  a  fabled  fount 
By  bards  recorded,  or  hiftoriansold; 
Whether  they  water'd  Afia's  fertile  plains 
With  foft  f  Callirhroe  ;  or  to  letter'd  Greece 
Or  warlike  Latium  lent  their  kindly  aid  ? 
Nor  ye  of  modern  fame,  whofe  riils  defcend 
From  Alps  and  Appennines,  or  grateful  lave 
Germania's  harafs'd  realms,  expe>*l  my  verfe 
Should  chant  your  praife,  and  dwell  on  foreign 

themes ; 

When  chief  o'er  \lbion  have  the  healing  powers 
Shed  wide  their  influence  :  from  a  thoufand  rocks 
Health  gufhes,  through  a  thoufand  vales  it  flows 
Spontaneous.     Scarce  can  luxury  produce 
More  paledifeafes  than  her  ftreams  relieve. 
Witnefs,  Avonia,  the  unnumber'd  tongues 
Which  hail  thy  f  fitter's  name  !  on  the  fame1  banks 
Your  fountains  rife,  to  the  fame  ftream  they  flow. 
See  in  what  myriads  to  her  wat'ry  flirine 
The  various  votaries  prefs!   they  drink,  they  live  ! 
Not  more  exulting  crowds  in  the  full  height 
Of  Roman  luxury  proud  Baiae  knew; 
Ere  J  Mufa's  fatal  ikill,  fatal  to  Rome, 
Defam'd  the  tepid  wive.  Nor  ||  round  thy  fliades, 
Clitumnus,  more  recording  trophies  hang. 

*  Palmyra  is  generally  allowed  to  have  flood 
on  the  f  am*  f  pot  of  ground  as  Tadmar.'  See  the  U- 
ni-vetfal  Hijtory,  <vol.  ii.  oft.  edit,  'where  there  is  a 
print  reprefenting  the  ruins  of  that  city. 

f  A  fountain  in  Judea  beyond  Jordan,  which 
empties  it  felf  into  the  lake  Afphaltes.  Its  wa 
ters  tuere  not  only  medicinal,  but  remarkably  foft 
and  agreeable  to  the  fa/fe.  Herod  the  Great  made 
life  of  them  in  his  la/I  dreadful  di/iemper.  Jofe- 
phus,  1  xvii.  c.  8.  \  Bath. 

J  Antoniits  Mufa*  phyjician  to  Auguftus  Ctefar. 
•was  the  firjl  nuko  br-nugbt  cold  hi' thing  into  great 
repute  at  Rome.  But  the  fame  prescription  ivhich 
bad  fanned  Augujlns,  unhappily  killed  Marcellus. 
Horace  dcfcribes  the  inhabitants  cf  Ba'ix  as  very 
•uneafy  at  this  new  method  of  proceeding  in  phyfu. 

— "  Mihi  Baias 

"  Mufa  fupenracuas  Antonius,  et  tamen  illis 
"  Mefacit  invifum  gelida  dum  perluor  unda 
*'  Per  medium  frigus.     Sane  myrteta  relinqui 
"  Liflaque  ceflantem  nervis  elidere  morbum 
**   Sufiira  contemn!  f^/cus  getait  ;   inviJns  <£grij 
"  Qui  caput  aut  ftnmuchum  fupponere  fontibus 
"   "  audent,"  &c. 

[j   See  a  beautiful  dcfcription  of  the  fource  of 
this  river  in  Pliny's  Epijlles,  Ep.  8.  B.  viii.  where 
5 


O  for  a  Shakfpeare's  pencil,  while  I  trace 
In  nature's  breathing  paint,  the  dreary  wafte 
Of  Buxton,  dropping  with  incefiant  rains 
Cold  and  ungenial ;  or  its  fwaet  reverfe 
Enchanting  Matlock,  from  whofe  rocks  like  thine 
Romantic  foliage  hangs,  and  rills  defcend, 
And  echoes  murmur.     Derwent,  as  he  pours 
His  oft  obftructed  ftream  down  rough  cafcades 
And  broken  precipices,  views  with  awe, 
With  rapture,  the  fair  fcene  his  waters  form. 

Nor  yet  has  nature  to  one  Ipot  confin'd 
Her  frugal  bleffi;!gs.     Many  a  different  lite 
And  different  air,  to  fuit  man's  varying  frame 
The  fame  relief  extends.    Thus  Cheltenham  finks 
Rural  and  calm  amid  the  flowery  vale,  [lifts 

Pleas'd   with  its  paitora.  fcenes  ;  wh'le  Scaruro' 
Its  towering  fmnmits  to  th'  afpiring  clouds, 
And  fees  th'  unbounded  ocean  roll  beneath. 

Avonia  frowns!  andjuftly  may'ft  thou  frown 
O  goddefs,  on  the  ba'd,  th'  injurious  b  ird. 
Who  leaves  thy  pufliu'ci  fcenes.  and  idly  roves 
For  foreign  beauty  to  adorn  his  long. 
Thine  is  all  beauty  ;  every  fite  is  thine. 
Thine,  the  fweet  vale,  and  verdure-crowned  mead 
Slow  rifinj  from  the  plain,  which  Cheltenham 

boafts. 

Thine  Scarbro's  clifts ;  and  thine  the  rufiet  heaths 
Of  fandy  Tunbridge  ;  o'er  thy  fpactous  downs 
Stray  wide  the  nibbling  flocks;  the  hunter  train 
May  range  thy  forelts ;   and  the  muff-led  youth, 
Who  loves  the  devious  walk,  and  fimple  fcene, 
May  in  thy  Kingfwood  vie.w  the  fcatter'd  cats    , 
And  the  green  wilds  of  Dulwich.     Does  the  fun, 
Does  the  free  air  delight  ?  lo  !  Cliftort  (lands 
Courted  by  every  breeze  ;  and  every  fun 
There  (heds  a  kinder  ray  :  whether  he  rides 
In  louthern  fkies  fublime,  or  mildly  pours 
O'er  Briitol's  red'ning  towers  his  orient  beam, 
Or  gilds  at  eve  the  fhrub-clud  rocks  of  Ley. 
Beneath  thy  mountains  open  to  the  fouth 
Pale  ficknefs  fits,  and  drinks  th'  enlivening  day; 
Nor  fears  the  innumerable  pangs  which  pierce 
In  keener  angnifli  from  the  noith,  or  load 
The  dufky  pinions  of  the  peevifh  eaft. 
Secure  (lie  fits,  and  from  thy  facred  urn 
Implore's,  and  finds  relief.     The  flacken'd  nerves 
Refume  their  wonted  tone,  of  every  wind 
And  every  feafon  patient.     Jocund  health 
Blooms  on  the  cheek  ;  and  carelefs  youth  returns 
(As  fortune  wills)  to  pleafiire  or  to  toil. 

Yet  th.nk  not.  goddefs,  that  the  mule  afcribe1; 
To  thee  unfailing  ftrength,  offeree  to  wreft 
Th'  uplifted  bolts  of  fate;  to  Jove  alone 
Belongs  that  high  pre-eminence      Full  oft, 
This  feeling  heart  can  witnefs.  have  I  heard 
Along  thy  fhore  the  piercing  cries  refound 
Of  widows  and  of  orphans.     Oft  beheld 
The  folemri  funeral  pomp,  and  decent  rites, 
Which  human  vanity  receives  and  pays 
When  duft  returns  to  duft.    Where  nature  falls, 
There 'too  thy  power  rr.uft  fail ;   or  only  lend 
A  momentary  aid  to  foften  pain, 

be  mentions  it  as  a  cuftomfor  perfons  to  leave  ftr- 
fcriptions,  ifc.  as  tejlimonies  of  their  being  cured 
there  ;  fomething  ill  the  manner  of  the  crotches  *t 
Bath. 

*  M  ij 


THE  WORKS   OF  W.   WHITEHEAD. 


And  from  the  king  of  terrors  fteal  his  frown. 

Nor  yet  for  waters  only  art  thou  fam'd, 
Avonia  ;  deep  within  thy  cavern'd  rocks 
Do  diamonds  lurk,  which  mimic  thofe  of  Ind. 
Some  to  the  curious  fcarcher's  eye  betray 
Their  varying  hues  amid  the  mofiy  clefts 
Faint  glimmering  ;  others  in  the  (olid  itone 
Lie  quite  ohfcur'd,  and  wait  the  patient  hand 
Of  art,  or  quick  explofion's  fiercer  breath,    - 
To  wake  their  latent  glories  into  day. 
With  thefe  the  Britifli  fair,  ere  traffic's  power 
Had  made  the  wealth  of  other  worlds  our  own, 
Would  deck  their  auburn  trefles,  or  confine 
The  ihowy  Toundnels  of  their  polifli'd  arm. 
With  thefe  the  little  tyrants  of  the  ifle, 
Monarch?  of  counties,  or  of  clay-built  towns 
Sole  potentates,  would  bind  their  haughty  brows, 
And  awe  the  gazing  crowd.     Say,  goddcfs,  fay, 
Shall,  ftudiousot  thy  praife,  the  mule  declare 
When  firft  their  luftre  rofe,  and  what  kind  power 
Unveil'd  their  hidden  charms  ?  The  mufe  alone 
Can  call  b  >ck  time,  and  from  oblivion  fave 
The  once-known  tale,  of  which  tradition's  felf 
Has  loft  the  fainteft  memory.     'Twas  ere 
The  titles  oroud  of  knight  or  baron  bold 
Were  known  in  Albion  ,  long  ere  Caefar's  arms 
Had  tried  its  prowefs,  and  been  taught  to  yield. 
Wertward  a  mile  from  yon  afpiring  flirubs   [thorns 
"Which  front  thy  hallow'd  fount,  and  fhagg  with 
The  adverfe  fide  of  Avon,  dwelt  a  fwain. 
One  only  daughter  blefs'd  his  nuptia'l  bed. 
Fair  was  the  maid ;  but  wherefore  faid  1  fair  ? 
For  many  a  maid  is  fair,  but  Leya's  form 
Was  beauty's  felf,  where  each  united  charm 
Ennobled  each,  and  added  grace  to  ail. 
Yet  cold  as  mountain  fnows  her  tim'rom  heart 
Rejects  the  voice  of  love.     In  vain  the  fire 
With  prayers,  with  mingled  tear?,  demanded  oft 
The  name  of  grandfire,  and  a  prattling  race 
To  cheer  his  drooping  age.     In  vain  the  youths 
To  Leya's  fav'rite  name  in  every  dale 
Attun'd  their  tuftic  pipes,  to  Leya's  ear 
Mil  fie  was  difcord  when  it  talk'd  of  love. 
And  fliall  fuch  beauty,  and  fuch  power  to  blefs, 
Sink  ufelefs  to  the  grave  !  forbid  it,  love  1 
Forbid  it,  vanity  !  ye  mighty  two 
Who  (hare  the  female  breaft  !  the  laft  prevails. 
•'  Whatever  youth  fhall  bring  the  nobleft  prize 
*'  May  claim  her  conquer'd  heart."     The  day 

was  fix'd, 

And  forth  from  villages,  and  turf-built  cots, 
In  crowds  the  fuitors  came  :  from  Afliton's  vale, 
From  Pil,  from  Porfliut,   and  the  town  whole 

tower 

Now  ftands  a  fea-mark  to  the  pilots  ken. 
Nor  were  there  wanting  Clifton's  love-fick  fons 
To  fwell  th'  enamour'd    train.     But  molt   in 

thought 

Yielded  toCadwal'sheir,  proud  lord  of  Stoke  ; 
Whofe  wide  dominions  fpread  o'er  velvet  lawns 
And  gently-fwelling  hills,  and  tufted  groves, 
Full  many  a  mile.   For  there,  ev'n  then,  the  fcene 
We  now  behold  to  fuch  perfection  wrought, 
Charm'd  with  untutor'd  wiidnefs,  and  but  afk'd 
A  matter's  hand  to  tame  it  into  grace. 

Againft  fuch  rivals,  prodigal  of  wealth, 
To  venal  beauty  oft 'ring  all  their  ft  ores, 


What  arts  fliall  Thenot  life,  who  long  has  lov'd, 
AnJ  long,  too  long  d  Mpair'd  ?  Amid  thy  rocks 
Nightly  he  wanders,  to  the  filent  moon 
And  ftarry  holt  of  heaven  he  tells  his  pain. 
But  chief  to  thee,  to  thee  his  tond  complaints 
At  morn,  at  eve,  and  in  the  midnight  hour 
frequent  he  pours.     No  wealth  paternal  blefs'J 
His  humbler  birth  ;  no  fields  of  waving  gold 
Or  flowering  orchards,  no  wide  wandering  herds 
Or  bleating  rirftlings  of  the  flock  were  his, 
To  tempt  the  wary  maid.     Yet  could  his  pipe 
Make  echoes  liften,  and  his  flowing  tongue 
Could  chant  foft  ditties  in  fo  fweet  a  flrain, 
They  charm'd  with  native  mufic  all  but  her. 

Oft  had'ft  thou  heard  him,  goddefs  ;  oft  refolv'ci 
To  fuccour  his  diftrefs.     When  now  the  day, 
The  fatal  day  drew  near,  and  love's  laft  hope 
Hung  on  a  few  fliort  moments.     Ocean's  god 
Was  with  thee,  and  obfei  v'd  thy  anxious  thought. 
''  And  what,''  he  cry'd, <;  can  make  Avonia's  face 
Wear  aught  but  (miles  ?  what  jealous  doubts  per 
plex 

My  fair,  my  bed  belov'd  ?"  "  No  jealous  doubts, 
Thou  anfwered'ft  mild,  and  on  his  breaft  reclin'd 
Thy  blufliing  cheek,  perplex  Avonia's  breaft  : 
A  cruel  fair  one  flie&the  voice  of  love, 
And  gifts  alone  can  win  her.     Mighty  power, 
O  bid  thy  tritons  ranfack  ocean's  wealth, 
The  coral's  living  branch,  the  lucid  pearl, 
An;l  every  fiiell  where  mingling  lights  and  (hades 
Play  happieft.     O,  if  ever  to  thy  breaft 
My  artful  coynefsgave  a  moment's  pain, 
Learn  from  that  pain  to  pity  thofe  that  love." 
The  god  return'd  :  "  Can  his  Avonia  afk 
What  Neptune  would  refufe?  beauty  like  thine 
Might  talk  his  utmoft  labours.     But  behold 
How   needlefs  now    his    treafures?    what   thou 

feek'ft 

Is  near  thee  ;  in  the  bofom  of  thy  rocks 
Myriads  of  glittering  gems,  of  power  to  charm 
More  wary  eyes  than  Leya's,  lurk  unfeen.    [rais'd 
From  thefe   (elect   thy   ftore."      He  fpakc,    and 
The  mafly  trident;  at  whofe  ftroke  the  womb 
Of  earth  gave  up  its  treafures.     Ready  nymphs 
Receiv'd  the  buriting  gems,  and  tritons  lent 
A  happier  polifh  to  th'  incrufled  ftone. 

Scarce  had   they  finifli'd,   when  the  plaintive 
ftrains  [preach," 

Of  Thenot  reach'd  thy  ears.     "  Approach,  ap- 
The  trident-bearer  cried  ;  and  at  his  voice 
The  rocks  divided,  and  the  awe-ftruck  youth 
(Like  Arift&us  through  the  parting  wave) 
Dtfcended  trembling.    But  what  words  can  paint 
His  joy,  his  rapture,  when,  furprife  at  length 
Yielding  to  love,  he  grafp'd  the  fated  gems,  [cried, 
And   knew  their  wond'rous  import.     "  O !    l:e 
Difmifs  me,  gracious  powers;  ere  this,  perhaps, 
Young  Cadwal  clafps  her  charms,  ere  this  the 
wealth  [know 

Of  Madoc  has  prevail'd  !"-— "  Go,  youth,  and 
Succefs  attends  thy  er.terprife;  and  time 
Shall  make  thee  wealthier  than  the  proudeft  fwait 
Whofe  rivalfliip  thou  fear'ft  ;  go,  and  be  bleft. 
Yet  let  not  gratitude  be  loft  in  joy  ; 
But  when  thy  wide  poflefiions  fhall  extend 
Farm  beyond  farm,  remember  whence  they  rofe, 
And  grace  thy  village  with  Avonia's  name." 


P    O    £ 

How  fhall  the  blufhing  mufe  purfue  the  tale 
Impartial,  and  record  th'  ungrateful  crime 
Of  Thenot  love-deluded  ?    When  fuccels 
Hid  crown'd  his  fierce  defires,  awhile  he  paid 
Due   honours  at  thy  fhrine,    and   ftrew'd   with 

flowers 

Jal'inin  and  role,  and  iris  many-hued, 
The  rocky  margin.     Till  at  length,  intent 
On  Leya's  charms  alone,  of  aught  befide 
Carelefs  he  grew  ;  and  fcarcely  now  his  hymns 
Of   praife    were   heard;,  if    heard,   they  fondly 

mix'd 

His  Leya's  praife  with  thine ;  or  only  feem'd 
The  dying  echoes  of  his  former  ttrains. 
Nor  did  he  (how  wilt  thou  excufe,  O  love, 
Thy  traitor!)  when  his  wide  poflfeflGon>  fpread. 
Farm  beyond  farm,  remember  whence  they  role, 
Or  grace  his  village  with  Avonia'sname. 
But  on  a  feftal  day,  amid  the  fhouts 
Of  echoing  ihepherrls,  to  the  rifing  town 
"  Be  Leva  nam'd,"  he  cried  :   and  ftill  unchang'd 
(Indelible  difgrace!)  *  the  name  remains. 

Twasthen,  Avonia,  negligent  of  all 
His  former  injuries,  thy  heav'nly  bread 
Felt  real  rage  ;  and  thrice  thy  arm  was  rais'd 
For  fpeedy  vengeance  ;  thrice  the  azure  god 
Reftrain'd  its  force,  or  ere  the  uplifted  rocks 
Defcending  had  o'erwhelra'd  the  fated  town. 
And  thus  he  footh'd  thee,  "  Let  not  rage  tranf- 

port 

My  injur'd  fair-one ;  love  was  all  his  crime, 
Refiftlefs  love.     Yet  fure  revenge  awaits 
Thy  utmoft  wifhes ;  never  fhall  his  town, 
Which,  had  thy  title  grac'd  it,  had  afpir'd 
To  the  rint  naval  honours,  and  look'd  down 
On  Carthage  and  the  ports  which  grace  my  own 
Phoenicia,  never  (hall  it  rile  beyond 
That  humble  village  thou  bebold'ft:  it  now. 
And  foon  tranfported  to  the  Britifh  coalt 
From  fartheft  India  vefiels  fhall  arrive 
Full  fraught  with  gems,  raj-felt'  will  fpeed  the 

fails, 

And  all  th'  imaginary  wealth  he  boafls 
Shall  fink  neglected :   rudics  (hall  drride 
His  diamond's  mimic  blaze.     Nor  thou  regret 
Their  perifh'd  fplendour  ;  on  a  firmer  bafe 
Thy  glory  reits  ;  reject  a  fpurious  praife, 
And  to  thy  waters  only  trulc  for  fame." 

And  whit  of  fame,  6  godclefs,  canft  thou  alk 
Beyond  thy  waters,  ever-ftreaming  fource 
Of  health  to  thoulands  •  Myriads  yet  unborn 
Shall  hail  thy  loft'ring  wave  :  perchance  to  thee 
Shall  owe  their  firtt  exigence.     For,  if  fame 
Relate  not  fabling,  the  warm  genial  breath 
Of  nature,  which  calls  forth  the  burtlmg  forms 
Through  wide  creation,  and  with  various  life 
Fills  every  teeming  element,  amid 
Thy  ftream  delighted  revels,  with  increafe 
Blefling  the  nuptial  bed.  Suppliant  to  thee 
The  penfive  matron  bends;  witkout  thy  aid 
Expiring  families  had  afk'd  in  vain 
The  long-expected  heir ;  and  ftates  perhaps, 
Which  now  ftand  foremoft  in  the  lifts  of  fame, 
Had  funk  unnerv'd,  inglorious,  the  vile  flaves 


Ley,  or  Leigh,  a  fmall  village  on  tie  of- 
ejide  of  the  Avon. 


M    S.  917 

Of  floth,  and  couch'd  beneath  a  mafter's  frown, 
Had  not  thy  breath  awak'd  fome  chofen  foul, 
Some  finer  aithcr,  fcarce  uliy'd  to  clay, 
Hero  to  act,  or  poet  to  record. 

O  if  to  Albion,  to  my  native  land, 
Of  all  that  glorious,  that  immortal  train 
Which  fwclls  her  annuls,  thy  prolific  ftream 
Has  given  one  bard,  one  hero ;  may  nor  florms 
Nor    earthquakes   make    thy  manfion ;   may  the 

fwecp, 

The  filent  fweep,  of  flow-devouring  time 
Steal  o'er  thy  rocks  unfelt,  and  only  bear 
To  future  worlds  thy  virtues,  and  thy  praife. 

Still,  ftill,  Avonia,  o'er  thy  Albion  fhed 
Benigneft  influence  ;  nor  to  her  alone 
Confine  thy  partial  boon.  The  lamp  of  day, 
God  of  the  lower  world,  was  meant  to  all 
A  common  parent.  Still  to  every  realm 
Send  forth  thy  blefiings ;  for  to  every  realm, 
Such  its  peculiar  excellence,  thy  wave 
May  pafs  untainted  ;  feafons,  climates,  fpare 
Its  virtues,  and  the  power  which  conquers  all, 
Innate  corruption,  never  mixes  there. 

And  might  I  aflc  a  boon,  in  whifpers  aflc 
One  partial  favour ;  Goddefs,  from  the  power 
Of  verfe,  and  arts  Paeonian,  gracious  thou 
Entreat  this  one.  Let  other  poets  {hare 
His  noify  honours,  rapid  let  them  roll 
As  neighb'ring  Severn,  while  the  voice  of  fame 
Re-echoes  to  their  numbers :  but  let  mine 
My  humbler  weaker  verfe,  from  fcantier  rills 
Diffufing  wholefome  draughts,  unheard,  unfeen, 
Glide  gently  on,  and  imitate  thy  fpring. 

ON  FRIENDSHIP. 

"  L'Amitie,  qul  dans  le  monde  eft  a  peinc  un 
fentiment,  eft  une  paffion  dans  les  cloitres.'' 

Contes  jMoraux,de  MARMONTEL. 
MUCH  have  we  heard  the  pee  vim  world  complain 

Of  friends  neglected,  and  of  friends  forgot : 
Another's  frailties  blindly  we  arraign, 

And  blame,  as  partial  ills,  the  common  lot : 
For  what  isfriendfhip  ? — 'Tisthe  facred  tie 

Of  fouls  unbodied,  and  of  love  refin'd  ; 
Beyond,  benevolence,  thy  focial  figh, 

Beyond  the  duties  graven  on  our  kind. 
And  ah  how  feldom,  in  this  vale  of  tears, 

This  frail  exiftence,  by  ourfelves  debas'd, 
In  hopes  bewilder'd,  or  fubdued  by  fears, 

The  joys  unmix'd  of  mutual  good  we  tafte  ! 
Proclaim,  ye  reverend  fires,  whom  fate  has  fpar'd 

As  life's  example,  and  as  virtue's  teft, 
How  few,  how  very  few,  your  hearts  have  fliar'd, 

How  much  thofe  hearts  have  pardon'd  in  the 

beft. 
Vain  is  their  claim  whom  hcedlefs  pleafure  joins 

In  bands  of  riot,  or  in  leagues  of  vice ; 
They  meet,  they  revel,  as  the  day  declines, 

But,  fpecTre-like,  they  fhudder  at  its  rife. 
For  'tis  not  friendfnip,  though  the  raptures  run, 

Led  by  the  mad'ning  god,  through  every  vein  ; 
Like  the  warm  flower,  which  drinks  the  noon 
tide  fun, 

Their  bofoms  open  but  to  clofe  again. 
Yet  there  are  hours  of  mirth,  which  friendship 
loves,  [kind, 

When  prudence  fleeps  and  wifdom  grows  more 
Sallies  of  fenfe,  which  reafon  fcarce  approves, 
When  all  unguarded  glows  the  naked  mini. 


THE    WORKS    OF    W.    WHITEHEA». 


But  far"  from  thofe  be  each  profaner  eye 

With  glance  malignant  withering  fancy's  bloom ; 
Far  the  vile  ear,  where  whifpers  ntver  die; 

Far  the  rank  heart,  which  teems  with  ills  to 

come. 
Full  oft.  by  fortune  near  each  other  plac'd, 

Ill-Anted  fouls,  nor  ftudious  much  to  pleafe, 
Whole  fruitleis  years  in  awkward  union  wafte, 
'Till  chance  divides,  whom  chance  had  join'd, 

with  eafe, 
And  yet,  fhould  either  oddly  foar  on  high, 

And  fhine  dif.inguifh'd  in  fom'e  fphere  remov'd, 
The  friend  bbferves  him  with  a  jealous  eye, 

And  calls  ungrateful  whom  he  never  lov'd. 
But  leave  we  fuch  for  thofe  of  happier  clay 

On  wnofe  emerging  ftars  the  graces  fmile, 
And  fearch  for  truth,  where  virtue's  facred  ray 

Wakes  the  ^;!ad  feed  in  friendfhip's  genuine  foil. 
In  youth's  foft  feafon,  when  the  vacant  mind 

To  each  kind  impulfe  of  affection  yields, 
When  nature  charms,  and  love  of  human  kind 

With  its  own  brightnefs  every  object  gilds, 
Should  two  congenial  bofoms  haply  meet, 

Or  on  the  bar.ks  of  Camus,  hoary  ftream, 
Or  where  fmooth  Ifis  glides  on  filver  feet, 

Nurfe  of  the  mufes  each,  and  each  their  theme, 
How  blithe  the  mutual  morning  taflc  they  ply  ! 

How  fweet  the  fkunt'ring    walk    at    ciofe  of 

day '. ' 
Ho\v  fteal,  fecluded  from  the  world's  broad  eye, 

The  midnight  hours  infenfibly  away  ! 
Wh';:e  glows  the  focial  bofomto  impart 

Each  young  idea  dawning  fcience  lends, 
Or  big  with  fonow  beats  th'  unpractis'd  heart 

For  fufFring  virtue,  and  clifaftrous  friends. 
Deep  in  the  volumes  of  the  mighty  dead        ' 

They  feaft  on  joys  to  vulgar  minds  unknown; 
The  hero's,  fage's,  patriot's  path  they  tread, 

Adore  each  worth,  and  make  it  half  their  own. 
Sublime  and  pure  as  Thebes  or  Sparta  taught     • 

Eternal  union  from  their  fouls  they  fvvear, 
Each  added  converfe  fwells  the  generous  thought, 

And  each  fhort  abfence  makes  it  more  finctie — 
— •"   And  can— (I  hear  fome  eager  voice  exclaim, 

Whole  blifs  now  bloilbms,  and  whofe  hopes  beat 

high) 
Can  virtue's  bafh  fail  th'  incumbent  frame  ? 

And  may  fuch  friendihips  ever  ever  die  ?" 
Ah,  gentle  youth,  they  may.     Nor  thou  complain 

If  chance  the  fad  experience  fhould  be  thine 
What  can  not  change  whe:  e  all  is  light  and  vain  ? 

— Aflc  of  the  fates  who  twilt  life's  varying  line. 
Ambition,  vanity,  fuipenfe,  furmife, 

On  the  wide  world's  tempeftuous  ocean  roll ; 
New  loves,  new  friendfhips,  new  defires  arife, 

New  joys  elate,  new  griefs  deprefs  the  foul. 
Some,  iu  the.buftling  mar:  of  bufmefs,  lofe 

The  ftill  imall  voice  retirement  loves  to  hear; 
Some  ar  the  m»fy  bar  enlarge  their  views, 

Av,      omc  <n  ienaics  an  -    j  p  ople'-  ear. 
While  others,  led  by  glory's  meteors,  run 

To  diftant  wars  for  laurels    ain'd  with  blood. 
Meanwhile  the  ftreafn  of  time  glides  calmly  on, 

And  ends  its  fill  nt  courfe  i  i  Lethe's  flood. 
Unhappy  only  he  of  friendfhip's  tiain 

Who  never  knew  what  change  or  fortune  meant. 
With  \.honi  tli'  ideas  of  ha,  youth  remain 

Top  firmly  fix'd,  and  rob  him  of  corner^. 


Condemn'd  perhaps  to  fome  obfcure  retreat, 

Where  pale  reflection  wears  a  fickly  bloom, 
Still  to  the  pall  he  turns  with  pilgrim  feet, 

And  ghofts  of  pleafure  haunt  him  to  his  tomfc. 
O— but  I  will  not  name  you— ye  kind  few, 

With  whom  the  morning  of  my  life  1  pafs'd, 
May  every  bli.s,  your  generous  bofoms  knew 

In  earlier  days,  attend  you  to  the  laft. 
I  too,  alas,  am  chang'd. — And  yet  there  are 

Who  ftill  with  partial  love  my  friendship  own, 
Forgive  the  frailties  which  they  could  not  fhare, 

Or  find  my  heart  unchang'd  to  them  alone. 
To  thern  this  votive  tablet  of  the  mule 

Pleas'd  1  fufpend. — Nor  let  th'  unfeeling  mind. 
From  thefe  loofe  hints  its  own  vile  waysexcufe, 

Or  ftart  a  thought  to  injure  human-kind. 
Who  knows  not  friendihip,  knows  not  blifs  fincere. 

Court  it,  ye  young ;  ye  ag^d,  bind  it  fafl  ; 
Earn  ic,  ye  proud ;  nor  think  the  purchafe  dear, 

Whate'er  the  labour,  if  'tis  gain'd  at  laft. 
Compar'd  with  all  th'  admiring  world  calls  great, 

Fame's  loudeft  blaft,  ambition's  nobleft  ends, 
Ev'n  the  laft  pang  of  focial  life  is  fweet: 

The  pang  which  parts  us  from   our   weeping 
friends. 


THE  DOG : 


A  SQUIRE  of  parts,  and  fome  conceit, 
Though  not  a  glaring  firil-rate  wit, 
Had  lately  taken  to  his  arms 
A  damfel  of  uncommon  charms. 
A  mutual  blifs  their  bofoms  knew, 
The  hours  on  downy  pinions  flew, 
And  fcatter'd  rofes  as  they  pafs'd 
Emblem  of  joys  too  fweet  to  lafl ! 
For  lo  !'  th'  unequal  fates  divide 
Th'  enamour'd  i'wain,  and  beauteous  bride. 
The  honey  rnoon  had  fcarcely  wand, 
And  love  its  empire  ftill  maintain'd, 
When  forth  he  muft,  for  bufinefs  calls. 
— Adieu,  ye  fields,  ye  groves,  ye  walls, 
That  in  your  hallow'd  bounds  contain 
My  fource  of  joy — my  fource  of  pain  i 
It  muft  be  fo ;  adieu,  my  dear. 
They  kifs,  he  fighs,  (he  drops  a  tear, 
For  lovers  of  a  certain  caft 
Think  every  parting  is  the  laft, 
And  ftill  whine  out,. whene'er  they  fever, 
In  tragic  ftrain,  "  Farewell  for  ever  !" 

Awhile,  in  melancholy  mood, 
He  flowly  pac'd  the  tirefome  road ; 
For  '<  every  road  muft  tirefome  prove 
That  bears  us  fur  from  her  we  love." 
But  fun,  and  exercife,  and  air, 
At  length  difpej  the  glooms  of  care  ; 
They  vanifti  like  a  morning  dream, 
And  happinefs  is  now  the  theme. 
How  bleft  his  lot,  to  gain  at  laft, 
60  many  vain  refearches  paft, 
A  wile  fo  fuittd  to  his  tafte, 
So  fail,  fo  gentle,  and  fo  chafte, 
A  tender  partner  for  his  bed, 
A  pillow  for  his  aching  head, 
The  bolpm  good  for  which  he  pantet}, 
In  fhoit  the  very  thing  he  wanted. 


POEMS. 


And  then,  to  make  my  blifs  complete, 
And  lay  frefli  laurels  at  my  feet, 
How  many  matches  did  fhe  flight ; 
An  Irifh  lord,  a  city  knight, 
And  fquires  by  dozens,  yet  agree 
To  pafs  her  life  with  humble  me. 
And  did  not  fhe  the  other  day 
When  Captain  Wilkins  pafs'd  our  way— 
The  Captain  '.—well,  fhe  lik'd  not  him, 
Though  dreft  in  all  his  Hyde-park  trim. 
—She  lik'd  his  fword-knot  though  'twas  yellow ; 
The  Captain  is  a  fprightly  fellow, 
I  fhould  not  often  choofe  to  fee 
Such  dangerous  vifitors  as  he. 
I  wonder  how  he  came  to  call— 
Or  why  he  pafs'd  that  way  at  all. 
His  road  lay  farther  to  the  right, 
And  me  he  hardly  knew  by  fight. 
Stay,— let  me  think — I  freeze,  I  burn— 
Where'er  he  went,  he  muft  return, 
And,  in  my  abfence,  may  again 
Make  bold  to  call. — Come  hither,  Ben  ? 
Did  you  obferve,  I'll  lay  my  life 
You  did,  when  firft  he  met  my  wife, 
What  fpeech  it  was  the  Captain  made  ? 
"  What,  Captain  Wilkins,  Sir  ?"  The  fame. 
Come,  you  can  tell.     "  1  can't  indeed, 
*'  For  they  were  kiffing  when  I  came." 
Kifs,  did  they  kifs  ?— "  Mod  furely,  Sir ; 
A  bride,  and  he  a  bachelor." 
Peace,  rafcal,  'tis  beyond  endurance, 
I  wonder  at  fome  folks  affurance. 
They  think,  like  Ranger  in  the  play, 
That  all  they  meet  is  lawful  prey. 
Thefe  hu/f  bluff  Captains  are  of  late 
Grown  quite  a  nuifance  in  the  ftate. — 
Ben,  turn  your  horfe — nay,  never  flare, 
And  tell  my  wife  I  cannot  bear 
Thefe  frequent  vifits.     Hence,  you  dunce ! 
u  The  Captain,  Sir,  was  there  but  once." 
Once  is  too  often  ;  tell  her,  Ben, 
That,  if  he  dares  to  call  again, 
She  fhould  avoid  him  like  a  toad, 
A  fnake,  a  viper. — There's  your  road. 
—And  hark'ee,  tell  her,  under  favour, 
We  ftretch  too  far  polite  behaviour. 
Tell  her,  I  do  not  underfland 
This  kiffing;  tell  her  I  command — 
"  Heav'n  blefs  us,  Sir,  fuch  whims  as  .thefe" — 
Tell  her  I  beg  it  on  my  knees, 
By  all  the  love  fhe  ever  fhow'd, 
By  all  fhe  at  the  altar  vow'd, 
How'e'er  abfurd  a  hufband's  fears, 
Hawe'er  injurious  it  appears, 
She  would  riot  fee  him  if  he  comes ; 
Nay,  if  fhe  chance  to  hear  his  drums, 
Bid  her  ftart  bade,  and  fkulk  for  fear, 
As  if  the  thunder  rent  her  ear. 

O  wond'rous  power  of  love  and  beauty ! 
Obedience  is  a  fervant's  duty, 
And  Ben  obeys.     But,  as  he  goes, 
He  reafons  much  on  human  woes.  • 

How  frail  is  man,  how  prone  to  ftray 
And  all  the  long  et  co-tern 
Of  fayings,  which,  in  former  ages. 
Immortaliz'd  the  Grecian  fages, 
But  now  tli/;  very  vulgar  fpeak,1 
And  only  critics  quote  in  Greek. 


With  thefe,  like  Sancho,  was  he  ftor'd, 
And  Sancho-like  drew  forth  his  hoard. 
Proper  or  not,  he  all  applied, 
And  view'd  the  cafe  on  every  fide, 
Till,  on  the  whole,  he  thought  it  befl 
To  turn  the  matter  to  a  jeft, 
And,  with  a  kind  of  clumfcy  wit, 
At  laft  on  an  expedient  hit. 

Suppofe  we  then  the  journey  o'er, 
And  Madam  meets  htm  at  the  door. 
So  foon  return'd  ?  and  where's  your  mailer  ? 
I  hope  you've  met  with  no  difafter. 
Is  my  dear  well?  "  Extremely  fo ; 
And  only  fent  me  here  to  know 
How  fares  his  fofter,  better  part. 
Ah,  Madam,  could  you  fee  his  heart ! 
It  was  not  even  in  his  power 
To  brook  the  abfence  of  an  hour."— 
And,  was  this  all  ?  was  this  the  whole 
He  fent  you  for  ?  The  kind,  good,  foul! 
Tell  him,  that  he's  my  fource  of  blifs; 
Tell  him  my  health  depends  on  his; 
Tell  him,  this  breaft  no  joy  can  find, 
If  cares  difturb  his  dearer  mind ; 
This  faithful  breaft,  if  he  be  well, 
No  pang,  but  that  of  abfence,  feel. 

Ben  blufh'd,  andfmil'd,  and  fcratch'd  his  head, 
Then,  falt'riag  in  his  accetits,  faid, 
"  One  meffag^  more,  he  bade  me  bear, 
But  that's  a  fecret  for  your  ear — 
My  rnafler  begs,  on  no  account 
Your  Ladyfhip  would  dare  to  mount 
The  mafliff  dog."     What  means  the  lad  ? 
Are  you, or  is  your  matter  mad? 
I  ride  a  dog  ?  a  pretty  ftory. 
".  Ah,  deareft  Madam,  do  not  glory 
In  your  own  ftrength ;  temptation's  flrong, 
And  frail  our  nature."    Held  your  tongue. 
Your  mafter,  Sir,  fhall  know  of  this 
"  Dear  madam,  do  not  take  amifs 
Your  fervant's  zeal ;  by  all  you  vow'd, 
By  all  the  love  you  ever  fhow'd, 
By  all  your  hopes  of  blifs  to  come, 
Beware  the  mafliff  dog  '."  Be  dumb, 
Infulting  wretch,  the  lady  cries. 
The  fervant  takes  his  cue,  and  flies. 
While  confternation  marks  her  face, 
He  mounts  his  fleed,  and  quits  the  place. 
In  vain  fhe  calls,  as  fwift  as  wind 
He  fcours  the  lawn,  yet  caft  In-hind 
One  parting  look,  which  feem'd  to  fay 
"  Beware  the  dog;"  then  rode  away. 

Why  fhould  I  paint  the  hurrying  fcene 
Of  clafhing  thoughts  which  pafs'd  within, 
Where  doubt  on  doubt  inceffant  roll'd. 
Enough  for  me  the  fecret's  told, 
And  Madam  in  a  ftrange  quandary. 
What's  to  be  done  ?  John,  Betty,  Harry, 
Go,  call  him  back.    He's  out  of  fight, 
No  fpeed  can  overtake  his  flight. 
Patience  per  force  alone  remains, 
Precarious  cure  for  real  pains! 

"  I  ride  a  dog  ?  a  ftrange  conceit, 
And  never  fure  attempted  yet.  j 

What  can  it  mean  ?  Whate'er  it  was, 
There  is  fome  myftery  in  the  cafe. — 
And  really,  now  I've  thought  a  minute, 
There  may  be  no  great  matter  in  it. 
3  M  iiij 


THE   WORKS    OF   W.   WHITE  HEAD. 


Ladies  of  old,  to  try  a  change, 
Have  rode  on  animals  as  itriiiige. 
Helle  a  ram,  a  bull  Europa; 
Nay,  Englifh  widows,  for  -A.  faux  pas, 
Were  doorn'd  to  expiate  their  fliame,  v 
As  authors  fay,  upon  a  ram. 
And  fhaa'r  my  virtue  take  a  pride  in 
Outdoing  fuch  vile  trulis  in  riding  ? 
And  fute  a  ram's  as  weak  u  creature- 
Here,  Betty,  reach  me  th<-  Spectator.— 
"  Lord  blefs  me,  Ma'am,  as  one  may  fay, 
Your  Lady  Ship's  quite  mop'd  to  day. 
Reading  will  only,  I'm  afraid, 
Put  more  ftrange  megrims  in  your  head. 
'Twere  better  lure  to  take  the  air ; 
I'll  order,  Ma'am,  the  coach  and  pair, 
And  then  too  I  may  go  bcfide. 
Or,  if  you  rather  choofe  to  ride."— 
Ride,  Betty !  that's  my  wifh,  my  aim. 
Pray,  Betty,  is  our  Cxfar  tame  ? 
«'  Tame,  Madam  ?  Yes,  I  never  heard— 
You  mean  the  mallift"  in  the  y;;rd  ? 
He  makes  a  noife,  and  barks  at  foiks — 
.But  furely,  Ma'am,  your  La'fhip  jokes." 
Jokes,  Betty  ?  No.    By  earth  and  heaven 
This  infult  {hall  not  be  forgiven. 
Whate'cr  they  mean,  I'll  ride  the  dog. 
Go,  prithee,  free  him  from  his  clog, 
And  bring  him  hither;  they  ihallfind 
There's  courage  in  a  female  mind. 

So  faid,  fo  done.    The  dog  appears 
With  Betty  chirping  on  the  ftaire. 
The  floating  fack  is  thrown  afide, 
The  veftments,  proper  for  a  ride, 
Such  as  we  oft  in  Hyde-park  view 
Of  fuftian  white  lapell'd  with  blue, 
By  Betty's  care  were  on  the  fpot, 
Nor  is  the  feather'd  hat  forgot. 
Pleas'd  with  herfelf,  th'  accoutred  lafs 
Took  half  a  turn  before  her  glafs, 
And  fimp'ring  faid,  I  fwear  and  vow 
I  look  like  Captain  Wilkins  now. 
But  ferious  cares  our  thoughts  demand, 
Poor  Caefar,  ftroke  him  with  your  hand ; 
How  mild  he  feems,  and  wags  his  tail ! 
"Tis  now  the  moment  to  prevail. 
She  fpake,  and  flrait  with  eye  it-late 
Began  th'  important  work  of  fate. 
A  cufhion  on  his  back  fhe  plac'd, 
And  bound  with  ribbands  round  his  waift : 
The  knot,  which  whilom  grac'd  her  head, 
And  down  her  winding  lappets  fpread, 
From  all  its  foft  meanders,  freed, 
Became  a  bridle  for  her  fteed. 
And  now  fhe  mounts.   "  Dear  Dian,  hear ! 
IBright  goddt Ts  of  the  lunar  fphere  ! 
Thou  that  haft  oft  prefcrv'd  from  fate 
The  nymph  who  leaps  a  five-barr'd  gate, 
O  tuke  me,  goddefs,  to  thy  care ; 
O  hear  a  tender  lady's  prayer  ! 
Thy  vot'refs  once,  as  pure  a  maid 
As  ever  rov'd  the  Deiian  fhade, 
Though  now,  by  man's  feduction  won, 
She  wears,  alas  !  a  loofer  zone." 

In  vafti  fhe  pray'd.    ohe  mounts,  fhe  falls ! 
And  Cajfar  barks,  and  Betty  fquawls. 
The  mafbfe  hearth  receives  below 
The  headlong  dame,  a  direful  blow  ! 


And  darting  veins  with  blood  difgrace 
The  fofter  marble  of  her  face. 

Here  might  I  fmg  of  fading  charms 
Reclin'd  on  Betty's  faithful  neck, 
Like  Venus  in  Dione's  arms, 

And  much  from  Homer  might  I  fpeak  j 
But  we  refer  to  Pope's  tranfiation, 
And  haflen  to  our  plain  narration. 

While  broths  and  platters  are  prcpar'd, 
And  doctors  feed,  and  madam  Icar'd, 
At  length  returns  th'  impatient  'fquire 
Eager  and  panting  with  defire. 
But  finds  his  home  a  defert  place, 
No  fpoufc  to  welcome  his  embrace, 
No  tender  fharer  of  his  blifs 
To  chide  his  abfence  with  a  kifs. 
Sullen  in  bed  the  lady  lay, 
And  muffled  from  the  eye  of  day, 
Nor  deign'd  a  look,  averfe  and  lad 
As  Dido  in  th'  Elyfian  fhade. 

Amaz'd,  alarm'd,  the  bed  he  prefs'd, 
And  clafp'd  her  flmggling  to  his  brcaft. 
My  life,  my  foul,  I  cannot  brook 
This  cruel,  this  averted  look. 
And  is  it  thus  at  laft  we  meet  ? 
Then  rais'd  her  gently  from  the  fheet. 
What  mean,  he  ci  ies,  thefe  bleeding  ftains, 
This  muffled  head,  and  burfting  veins  ? 
What  facrilegious  hand  could  dare 
To  fix  its  impious  vengeance  there  ? 
The  dog,  the  dog !  was  all  fhe  faid, 
And  fobbing  funk  again  in  bed. 
The  dog,  the  dog  !  exprefs'd  her  grief, 
Like  poor  Othello's  handkerchief. 

Meanwhile  had  Ben  with  prudent  cars 
From  Betty  learnt  the  whole  affair, 
And  drew  th'  impatient  'fquire  afidc, 
To  own  the  cheat  he  could  not  hide. 
See,  rafcal,  fee,  enrag'd  he  cries, 
What  tumours  on  her  forehead  rife ! 
How  fwells  with  grief  that  face  divine! 
"  I  own  it  all,  the  fault  was  mine, 
Replies  the  lad,  dear  angry  lord; 
But  hufh  !  come  hither,  not  a  word ! 
Small  are  the  ills  we  now  endure ; 
Thofe  '  umours,  Sir,  admit  a  cure. 
But,  had  I  done  as  you  dire<Sed, 
Whofe  forehead  then  had  been  affected  ? 
Had  Captain  Wilkins  been  forbidden, 
Ah  mailer,  who  had  then  been  ridden  ?." 

AN  EPISTLE 

FROM  A  GROVE  IN  DERBYSHIRE  TO  A  GROVE  II? 

SURRY. 

SINCE  every  naturalift  agrees 

That  groves  are  nothing  elfe  but  trees, 

And  root-bound  trees,  like  diftant  creatures, 

Can  only  correfpond  by  letters, 

Borne  on  the  winds  which  through  us  whittle, 

Atcept,  dear  fifter,  this  epiftle. 

And  firft,  as  to  their  town  relations, 
The  ladies  fend  to  know  the  fafhions, 
Would  I,  in  fomething  better  fpelling, 
Inquire  how  things  go  on  at  Haling ; 
For  here,  for  all  my  matter's  ttorming, 
I'm  Cure  we  ftrangely  want  reformirg. 


POEMS. 


Long  have  my  lab'ring  tree s  confin'd 
Such  griefs  as  almoft  burft  their  rind ; 
But  you'll  permit  me  to  difclofe  'em, 
And  lodge  them  in  your  leafy  bofom. 

When  gods  came  down  the  woods  among, 
As  fweetly  chants  poetic  fong, 
And  fauns  and  fylvans  fportirig  there 
Attun'd  the  reed,  or  chas'd  the  fair, 
My  quiv'ring  branches  lightly  farin'd 
The  movements  of  the  matter's  hand ; 
Or  half  conceal'd,  and  half  betray'd, 
The  blufhing,  flying,  yielding  maid  ; 
Did  ev'n  the  blifs  of  heav'n  improve, 
And  folac'd  gods  with  earthly  love  ! 

But  now  the  world  is  grown  fo  chafte, 
Or  elle  my  mafter  has  no  tafle, 
That,  I'll  be  fworn,  the  live-long  year 
We  fcarcely  fee  a  woman  here. 
And  what,  alas!  are  woodland  quires 
To  thofe  who  want  your  fierce  defires? 
Can  philofophic  bofoms  know 
Why  myrtles  fpring,  or  rofcs  blow, 
Why  cowflips  lift  the  velvet  head, 
Or  woodbines  form  the  fragrant  fhade  ? 
Even  violet  couches  only  fwell 
To  gratify  his  fight  and  fmell; 
And  Milton's  univerfal  Pan 
Scarce  makes  him  feel  himfelf  a  man. 

And  then  he  talks  your  dull  morality 
Like  fome  old  heathen  man  of  quality, 
( Plato,  or  what's  his  name  who  fled 
So  nobly  at  his  army's  head), 
For  Chriftian  lords  have  better  breeding 
Than  by  their  talk  to  fliow  their  reading; 
And  what  their  fentiment  in  facl  is, 
That  you  may  gather  from  their  practice. 
Though  really,  if  it  were  no  worfe, 
We  might  excufe  his  vain  difcourfe ; 
Tofs  high  our  heads  above  his  voice, 
Or  flop  the  babbling  echo's  noife ; 
But  he,  I  tell  you,  has  fuch  freaks, 
He  thinks  and  acts  whate'er  he  fpeaks. 

Or,  if  he  needs  muft  preach  and  reafon, 
Why  let  him  choofe  a  proper  feafon ; 
Such  mufty  morals  we  might  hear 
When  whittling  winds  have  ftript  us  bare, 
As,  after  fixty,  pious  folks 
Will  on  wet  Sundays  read  good  books. 
And  I  muft  own,  dear  fifter  Haliug, 
'Tis  mine,  like  many  a  lady's  failing. 
(Whom  worried  fpoufe  to  town  conveys 

From  cafe,  and  exercife,  and  air, 
To  fieeplefs  nights,  and  raking  days,    v 

And  joys — too  exquifite  to  bear) 
To  feel  December's  piercing  harms, 
And  every  winter  lole  my  charms. 
*  While  you  (till  flourifh  frefti  and  fair 
Like  your  young  ladies  all  the  year.      * 

O  happy  groves,  who  never  feel 
The  fhoke  of  winter,  or  of  fteel; 
Nor  find,  but  in  the  f  poet's  lay, 
The  race  of  leaves  like  men  decay. 
Nor  hear  th'  imperious  woodman's  call, 
Nor  fee  your  fylvan  daughters  fall, 

*  A  gnat  many  cf  the  trees  at  Haling  are  fxoiifs 
and  c-ver^recns. 
j-   HfKcr. 


With  head  dcclin'd  attend  their  moan, 
And  echo  to  the  dying  groan. 

While  I,  attack'd  by  foes  to  reft, 
New  viftas  opening  through  my  breaft, 
Am  daily  torn  with  wounds  and  flames, 
And  fee  my  oaks,  my  elms,  my  afties, 
With  rhyming  labels  round  them  fet, 
As  every  tree  were  to  be  let. 
And,  when  one  pants  for  confolation, 
Am  put  in  mind  of  contemplation. 

O  friend,  inftrud:  me  to  endure 
Thefe  mighty  ills,  or  hint  a  cure. 
Say,  might  not  marriage,  well  apply'd, 
Improve  his  tafte,  correct  his  pride, 
Inform  him  books  but  make  folks  muddy, 
Confine  his  morals  to  his  ftudy, 
Teach  him,  like  other  mortals,  here 
To  toy  and  prattle  with  his  dear; 
Avert  that  fate  my  fear  forefees, 
And,  for  his  children,  fave  his  trees  ? 

Right  trufty  wood,  if  you  approve 
The  remedy  exprefs'd  above, 
Write  by  the  next  fair  wind  that  blows, 
And  kindly  recommend  a  ipoufe. 

THE  ANSWER. 

DEAR  grove,  I  afk  ten  thoufand  pardons., 
Sure  I'm  the  moft  abfurd  of  gardens  ! 
Such  correfpondence  to  neglecl — 
Lord,  how  muft  all  grove-kind  reflect ! 

Your  human  loiterers,  they  fay, 
Can  put  ye  off  from  day  to  day 
With  poft  gone  out— the  carelefs  maid 
Forgot — the  letter  was  miflaid— 
And  twenty  phrafes  wrought  with  art 
To  hide  the  coldnefs  of  the  heart. 
But  vegetables  from  their  youth 
Were  always  taught  to  fpeak  the  truth, 
In  Dodon's  vales,  on  Mona's  mountains, 
In  Jotham's  fabks,  or  in  Fontaine's, 
They  talk  like  any  judge  or  bifhop, 
Quite  from  the  cedar  down  to  hyffop. 
I  therefore  for  my  paft  offence 
May  own,  with  i'ylvan  innocence, 
I've  nought  but  negligence  to  plead  ; 
Which  you'll  excufe,  and  I'll  proceed. 

You  groves  who  ftand  remote  from  towns 
(Though  we  are  apt  to  call  ye  clowns) 
Have  really  fomctning  in  your  natures, 
Which  makes  ye  moft  diverting  creatures. 
And  then,  I  vow,  I  like  to  fee 
That  primitive  fimplicity  ; 
To  think  of  marriage  as  a  means 
T'  improve  his  tafte,  and  fave  your  greens- 
It  looks  fo  like  that  good  old  grove 
Where  Adam  once  tft  Eve  made  love, 
Thut  any  foul  alive  would  iwear 
Your  trees  were  educated  there. 

Why,  child,  the  only  hope  thou  haft 
Lies  in  thy  mafter's  want  of  tafte  ; 
For  fhou'd  his  ling'ring  flay  in  London 
Improve  his  taflc,  you  rmift  be  undone  ; 
Your  trees  would  prefently  lie  flat. 
And  the  high  mode  of  one  green  plat 
Run  through  his  worfhip's  whole  eftate. 

Befides,  you  ruftics  fill  your  fancies 
With  Ovid,  and  his  ilrange  romances. 


THE   WORKS  OF   W.   WHITEHfiAB. 


7 

Why  now  yon  think,  in  days  like  ours, 
That  love  muft  ftill  inhabit  bowers, 
And  goddeffes,  as  juft  rewards 
For  hymns  of  praife,  grow  fond  of  bards, 
And  fly  to  over-arching  woods  • 
And  flowery  banks,  and  cryftal  floods, 
Becaufe  fuch  things,  forfooth,  were  wanted 
When  your  great  grandmothers  were  planted. 
The  cafe,  my  dear,  is  altcr'd  quite, 
Not  that  we're  chafte,  but  more  polite ; 
Your  fhepherdeffes  fought  fuch  places, 
Like  fimple  girls,  to  hide  their  faces ; 
But  our  bright  maids  difdain  the  thought, 
They  know  hypocrify's  a  fault, 
And  never  bear,  by  their  confent, 
The  mame  of  feeming  innocent. 

But  1  forget,  you've  juft  got  down 
A  miftrefs,  as  you  wifh'd,  from  town. 
I  don't  know  what  you'll  fay  at  Romely, 
We  really  think  the  woman  comely ; 
Has  fome  good  qualities  befide, 
They  fay,  but  {he's  as  yet  a  bride; 
One  can't  truft  every  report — 
Not  we  I  mean  who  live  near  court ; 
A  lie  perhaps  in  Derbyfhire 
May  be  as  ftrange  as  truth  is  here. 
Our  ladies,  and  all  their  relations, 
Are  vaftty  full  of  commendations ; 

As  for  Mifs 's  part,  fhe  fwears, 

— I  afk  her  pardon — fhe  avers 
That  never  in  her  life-time  yet 
She  faw  a  woman  more  complete  ; 
And  wifhes  trees  could  tramp  the  plain, 
Like  Birnham  wood  to  Dunfmane, 
So  might  or  you  or  I  remove, 
And  Romely  join  to  Haling  grove. 

O  could  her  wifh  but  alter  fate, 
And  kindly  place  us  tftc  a  tete, 
How  fweetly  might  from  every  walk 
My  echoes  to  your  echoes  talk  ! 
But,  Cnce,  as  juftly  you  obferve, 
By  nature's  laws,  which  never  fwerve 
We're  bound  from  gadding,  tree  by  tree, 
Both  us  and  our  pofterity, 
Let  each,  content  with  her  own  county, 
E'en  make  the  heft  of  nature's  bounty. 
Calmly  enjoy  the  prefent  blifs, 
Nor  in  what  might  be,  lofe  what  is. 

Believe  me,  dear,  beyond  expreffing 
We're  happy,  if  we  knew  the  blefling. 
Our  mailers,  all  the  world  allow, 
Are  honeft  men,  as  times  go  now; 
They  neither  wench,  nor  drink,  nor  game, 
Nor  burn  with  zeal  or  party  flame, 
From  whence,  excepting  adverfe  fates, 
We  may  conclude  that  their  eftates 
Will  probably  increafe,  and  we 
Shall  ftand  another  century. 

Then  never  mind  a  tree  or  two 
Cut  down,  perhaps  to  ope  a  view, 
Nor  be  of  nail'd  up  verfe  afham'd, 
You'll  live  to  fee  the  poet  damn'd. 
I  envy  not,  I  fwear  and  vow, 
The  temples,  or  the  fhades  of  Stow  ; 
Nor  Jarva's  groves,  whofe  arms  difplay 
'J-heir  bloffomS  to  the  rifing  day; 
'    Nor  Chili's  wood*,  whofe  fruitage  gleams 
R.uddy  beneath  his  fettyig  beams ; 


Nor  Teneriffa's  forefls 
Nor  China's  varying  Sharawaggi ; 
Nor  all  that  has  been  fung  or  faid 
Of  Pindus,  or  of  Windfor  made. 

Contentment  is  the  chemic  power 
Which  makes  trees  bloom  in  half  an  hour, 
And  fafler  plants  fubftantial  joy, 
Than  ax  or  hatchet  can  deftroy. 
O,  gain  but  that,  and  you'll  perceive 
Your  fears  all  fade,  your  hopes  revive. 
In  winter  calm  contentment's  voice 
Shall  make,  like  mine,  your  trees  rejoice; 
Acrofs  dead  boughs  a  verdure  fling, 
And  blefs  you  with  eternal  fpring. 

THE  ENTHUSIAST. 

ONCE,  1  remember  well  the  day, 
'Twas  ere  the  blooming  fweets  of  May 

Had  loft  their  frefheft  hues, 
When  every  flower  on  every  hill, 
In  every  vale,  had  drank  its  fill 

Of  fun-fhine,  and  of  dews. 

'Twas  that  fweet  feafon's  lovelieft  prime 
When  fpring  gives  up  the  reins  of  time 

To  fummers  glowing  hand, 
And  doubting  mortals  hardly  know 
By  whofe  command  the  breezes  blow 

Which  fan  the  fmiling  laud. 

'Twas  then  befide  a  green-wood  {hade 
Which  cloath'd  a  lawn's  alpiring  head 

I  wove  my' devious  way, 
With  loit'ring  fteps,  regardlefs  where, 
So  foft,  fo  genial  was  the  air, 

So  wond'rous  bright  the  day. 

And  now  my  eyes  with  tranfport  rove 
O'er  all  the  blue  expanfe  above, 

Unbroken  by  a  cloud  ! 
And  now  beneath  delighted  pafs, 
Where  winding  through  the  deep-green  grafs 

A  full-brim'd  river  flow'd. 

I  flop,  I  gaze  ;  in  accents  rude 
To  thee,  fereneft  folitude, 

Burfts  forth  th'  unbidden  lay  ; 
Begone,  vile  world  :  the  learn'd,  the  wife, 
The  great,  the  bufy,  I  defpife  ; 

And  pity  ev'n  the  gay. 

Thefe,  thcfe,  are  joys  alone,  I  cry ; 
'Tis  here,  divine  philofophy, 

Thou  deign'ft  to  fix  thy  throne  ! 
Here  contemplation  points  the  road 
Through  nature's  charms  to  nature's  God  ! 

Theie,  thefe,  are'  joys  alone  ! 

Adieu,  ye  vain  low-thoughted  cares, 
Ye  human  hopes,  and  human  fears, 

Ye  pleafures,  and  ye  pains ! — 
While  thus  I  fpake,  o'er  all  my  foul 
A  philofophic  calmnefs  ftole, 

A  ftoic  ftillnefs  reigns. 

The  tyrant  paffions  all  fubfide, 
Fear,  anger,  pity,  fhame,  and  pride, 

No  more  my  bofom  move ; 
Yet  ftiil  I  felt,  or  feem'd  to  feel 
A  kind  of  vifionary  zeal 

Of  univerfal  love. 


POEMS. 


When  lo  !  a  voice !  a  voice  1  hear ! 
'Twasreafon  whifper'd  in  my  ear 

Thefe  monitory  ftrains : 

What  mean'ft  thou,  man?  would'ft  thou  unbind 
The  ties  which  conflitute  thy  kind, 

The  pleafures  and  the  pains  ? 

The  fame  Almighty  Power  unfeen, 
Who  fpreads  the  gay  or  folemn  fcene 

To  contemplation's  eye, 
I;ix'd  every  movement  of  the"  foul, 
Taught  every  wifh  itsdeflin'd  goal, 

And  quicken'd  every  joy. 

He  bids  the  tyrant  paffions  rage, 
He  bids  them  war  eternal  wage, 

And  combat  each  his  foe  : 
Till  from  diffentions  concords  rife, 
And  beauties  from  deformities, 

And  happinefs  from  woe. 

Art  thou  not  man  ?  and  darft  thou  find 
;  A  blifs  which  leans  not  to  mankind  ? 
Prefumptuous  thought,  and  vain! 
Each  blifs  unfhar'd  is  unenjoy'd, 
Each  power  is  weak,  unlefs  employ'd 
Some  focial  good  to  gain. 

Shall  light,  and  fliadc,  and  warmth,  and  air, 
With  thofe  exalted  joys  compare 

Which  active  virtue  feels, 
When  on  fhe  drags,  as  lawful  prize, 
Contempt,  and  indolence,  and  vice, 

At  her  triumphant  wheels. 

AS  reft  to  labour  flill  fucceeds, 

To  man,  while  virtue's  glorious  deeds 

Employ  his  toilfome  day, 
This  fair  variety  of  things 
Are  merely  life's  refreshing  fprings 

To  footh  him  on  his  way. 

Enthufiaft,  go,  unftring  thy  lyre ; 
.  In  vain  thou  fing'ft,  if  none  admire, 

How  fweet  foe'er  the  ftrain. 
And  is  not  thy  o'crflowing  mind, 
Unlefs  thou  mixed  with  thy  kind, 
Benevolent  in  vain  ? 

'Enthufiaft,  go ;  try  every  fenfe : 
If  not  thy  blifs,  thy  excellence 

Thou  yet  has  learn'd  to  fcan. 
•  At  leaft  thy  wants,  thy  weaknefs  know ; 
And  fee  them  all  uniting  (how 
That  man  was  made  for  man. 


THE  YOUTH  AND  THE  PHILOSOPHER. 


A  GRECIAN  youth,  of  talent*  rare, 
Whom  Plato's  philifophic  care 
Had  form'd  for  virtue's  nobler  view, 
By  precept  and  example  too, 
Would  often  boall  his  matchlefs  (kill, 
To  curb  the  fteed,  and  guide  the  wheel, 
And  as  he  pafs'd  the  gazing  throng, 
With  graceful  eafe,  and  fmack'd  the  thong, 
The  id  ot  wonder  they  exprefs'd 
W_as  praife  and  traufport  to  his  bread. 


At  length,  quite  vain,  he  needs  would  fliow 
His  mafter  what  his  art  could  do  ; 
And  bade  his  ilavcs  the  chariot  lead 
To  Academus'  facred  fhadc. 
The  trembling  grove  confefs'd  its  fright, 
The  wood-nymphs  ftartled  at  the  fight, 
The  mufes  drop  the  learned  lyre, 
And  to  their  inmofl  fhades  retire ! 

Howc'er,  the  youth  with  forward  air 
Bows  t»  the  fage,  and  mounts  the  car. 
The  lafh  refounds,  the  courfer's  fpring. 
The  chariot  marks  the  rolling  ring, 
And  gath'ring  crowds,  with  eager  eyes, 
And  {bouts,  purfue  him  as  he  flies. 

Triumphant  to  the  goal  return'd, 
With  nobler  thirft  his  bofom  burn'd ; 
And  now  along  th'  indented  plain, 
The  felf-fame  track  he  marks  again  ; 
Purfues  with  care  the  nice  defign, 
Nor  ever  deviates  from  the  line. 

Amazement  feiz'd  the  circling  crowd ; 
The  youths  with  emulation  glow'd, 
Ev'n  bearded  fages  hail'd  the  boy, 
And  all,  but  Plato,  gaz'd  with  joy. 
For  he,  deep  judging  fage,  beheld 
With  pain  the  triumphs  of  the  field  ; 
And  when  the  charioteer  drew  nigh, 
And,  flufh'd  with  hope,  had  caught  his  eye  : 
Alas  !  unhappy  youth,  he  cry'd, 
Expect  no  praife  from  me,  (and  figh'd) ; 
With  indignation  I  furvey 
Such  {kill  and  judgment  thrown  away. 
The  time  profufely  fquander'd  there 
On  vulgar  arts  beneath  thy  care, 
If  well  employ'd,  at  lefs  expence, 
Had  taught  thee  honour,  virtue,  fenfs. 
And  rais'd  thee  from  a  coachman's  fate. 
To  govern  men,  and  guide  the  ftate. 

TO  A  GENTLEMAN, 

ON   HIS  PITCHING  A  TENT  IN   HIS  GARBEIt.. 

AH  !  friend,  forbear,  nor  fright  the  fields 

With  hoftile  fcenes  of  imag'd  war; 
Content  flill  roves  the  blooming  wilds, 

And  fearlefs  eafe  attends  her  there  :       {Teat, 

Ah !  drive  not  the  fweet  wand'rer  from  her 

Nor  with  rude  arts  profane  her  lateft  beft  retreat. 

Are  there  not  bowers,  and  fylvan  fcenes, 

By  nature's  kind  luxuriance  wove  ? 
Has  Romely  loft  the  living  greens 

Which  erft  adorn'd  her  artlefs  grove  ? 
W  here  through  each  hallow'd  haunt   the  poet 
ftray'd,          ^  {(bade. 

And  met  the  willing  mufe,  and  peopled  every 

But  now  no  bards  thy  woods  among 

Shall  wait  th'  infpiring  mule's  call ; 
For  though  to  mirth  and  feftal  foug 

Thy  choice  devotes  the  woven  wall, 
Yet  what  avails  that  all  be  peace  within, 
If  horrors  guard  the  gate,  and  fcare  us  fr6m  the 
fcene. 

'Tis  true,  of  old  the  patriarch  fpread 
His  happier  tents  which  knew  not  war, 

And  chang'd  at  will  the  trampled  mead 
Por  frefher  greens  and  purer  air : 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.   WHITEHEAD. 


But  long  lias  nun  forgot  fuch  fimple  ways ; 
Truth  unfufpecting  harm !— the  dream  or  an 
cient  days. 

Ev'n  he,  cut  off  from  human  kind, 

(Thy  neighb'ring  wretch)  the  child  of  care, 
Who,  to  his  native  mines  confin'd, 

Nor  fees  the  fun,  nor  breathes  the  air, 
But  'midlt  the  damps  and  darltnefs  of  earth's 
womb,  [tomb ; 

Drags  out  laborious  life,  and  fcarcely  dreads  the 

Ev'n  he,  fhould  fome  indulgent  chance 

Tranfport  him  to  thy  fylvan  reign, 
Would  eye  the  floating  veil  afkance, 

And  hide  him  in  his  caves  again, 
While  dire  prefage  in  ev«ry  breeze  that  blows, 
Hears  fhrieks,  and  clafhing  arms,  and  all  Ger- 
mania's  woes. 

And,  doubt  not,  thy  polluted  tafte 

A  fudden  vengeance  fhall  purfue  ; 
Each  fairy  form  we  whilom  trac'd 
Along  the  morn  or  evening  dew, 
Nymph,  fatyr,  faun,  fhall  vindicate  their  grove, 
Robb'd   of  its  genuine  charms,  and  hofpitable 
Jove. 

I  fee,  all  arm'd  with  dews  unbleft, 

Keen  frofls,  and  noifome  vapours  drear, 
Already,  from  the  bleak  north-eaft, 
The  genius  of  the  wood  appear  ! 
—Far  other  office  once  his  prime  delight, 
To  nurfe  thy  faplings  tall,  and  heal  the  harms  of 
night ; 

With  ringlets  quaint  to  curl  thy  fhade, 

To  bid  the  infect  tribes  retire, 
To  guard  thy  walks,  and  not  invade— 

O  wherefore  then  provoke  his  ire  ? 
Alas !  with  prayers,  with  tears,  his  rage  repel, 
While  yet  the  red'ning  fhoots  with  embryo-blof- 
foms  fwell. 

Too  late  thou'lt  weep,  when  blights  deform 

The  faireft  produce  of  the  year ; 
Too  late  thou'lt  weep,  when  every  ftorm 

Shall  loudly  thunder  in  thy  ear, 
"  Thus,  thus  the  green-hair'd  deities  maintain 
"  Th'eir  own  eternal  rights,  and  nature's  injur'd 
reign." 

THE  LARK. 

A    SIMILE. 
To  the  Reverend  Mr.  —— 

SEE  how  the  lark,  the  bird  of  day, 
Springs  from  thr  earth,  and  wings  her  way  ! 
To  hcav'n's  high  vault  her  courfe  flic  beads, 
And  fweetly  fings  as  Ihe  afcends. ' 
But  -Alien,  contented  with  he;-  height, 
She  Ihuts  hei  wings,  and  checks  her  flight, 
No  more  ftit.  chants  die  melting  Icrain, 
But  finks  in  liLjice  to  the  plain. 

This  you  obferv'd,  and  aflc'd  from  me, 
My  geiuk  frieud,  a  fimile. 
So  tal.e  in  homely  verfe,  but  true, 
Inftead  of  one,  the  following  two. 

That  larki  are  poet's  biros,  is  known, 
So  nuke  the  cafe  the  poet's  own. 


And  fee  him  firfl  from  fields  arlfe, 
And  paftoral  fcenes,  to  CaehVs  eyes. 
From  thence  the  bold  adventurer  fprings 
To  vaulted  roofs,  and  courts,  and  kings. 
'Till  having  crown'd  his  fearing  lays 
With  foniethiug  more  than  empty  praife ; 
And,  like  his  readers,  learnt  aright 

o  mingle  profit  with  delight ; 
He  reads  the  news,  he  takes  the  air, 
Or  {lumbers  in  his  elbow  chair. 

Or  lay  afide  for  once  grimace, 
And  make  it  yours,  the  parfon's  cafe  ; 
Who,  leaving  curate's  humble  roof, 
Looks  down  on  crape,  and  fits  aloof. 
Though  no  vain  wifh  his  brcaft  enthral 
To  fwell  in  pomp  pontifical, 
But  pure  contentment  feated  there, 
Nor  finds  a  want,  nor  feels  a  care, 
Yet  are  there  not  to  ftain  the  cloth, 
(O  may'ft  thou  live  fecure  from  both  !) 
A  city  pride,  or  country  floth  ? 
And  may  not  man,  if  touch'd  with  thefe, 
Rtfign  his  duty  for  his  cafe  ? 

But  I  forbear ;  for  well  I  ween 
Such  likenings  fuit  with  other  men. 
For  never  can  my  humble  verfe 
The  cautious  ear  of  patron  pierce  ; 
Nor  ever  can  thy  bread  admit 
Degrading  floth,  or  felf-conceit. 

Then  let  the  birds  or  fing  or  fly, 
As  Hector  fays,  and  what  care  I  ? 
They  hurt  not  me,  nor  eke  my  friend  ; 
Since,  whatfoe'er  the  fates  intend, 
Nor  he  can  fink,  nor  1  afcend. 

TO  THE   HONOURABLE 

CHARLES  TOWNSEND. 
O  CHARLES,  in  abfence  hear  a  friend  complain,  1 
Who  knows  thou  lov'ft  htm  whereloe'er  hell 

goes, 
Yet  feels  uneafy  fbrts  of  idle  pain, 

And  often  would  be  told  the  thing  he  knows. 
Why  then,  thou  loiterer',  fleets  the  Client  year, 
How  dar'ft  thou  give  a  friend  unnec^iTary  fear  ?   : 

We  are  not  nowbefide  that  ofier'd  ftream, 
Where  erft  we  wander'd,  Uioughtlefs  of  .he  • 

way; 
We  do  not  now  of  diftant  ages  dream, 

And  cheat  in  convtrfe  halt  the  ling'ring  dayj 
No  fancied  heroes  rife  at  our  command, 
And  no  Timokoa  weeps,  and  bleeds  no  Thebaa  « 
band. 

Yet  why  complain  ?  thou  feel' ft  no  want  like 

theie, 

From  me,  'tis  true,  but  me  alone  debar'd,     - 
Thou  ftill  in  Grama's  fhades  enjoy'ft  at  cafe 
The  books  we  reverenc'd,  and  the  friend*  < 

we  fhar'd; 

Nor  fee'ft  without  fuch  aids  the  day  decline, 
Nor  think  how  much  their  lols  has  added  weight 
to  thine. 

Truth's  genuine  voice,  the  freely-opening  mind,- 
Are  thine,  are  friendfhip's  and  retirement1* 
lot  ; 

To  converfation  is  the  world  confin'd, 

Sriends  of  an  hour,  who  pkale  and  are  forgot; 


POEMS. 


9' 5 


And  intereQ  {bins,  and  vanity  controuls, 
The  pur  J  unfullied  thoughts,  and  Tallies  of  our 
fouls. 

0  I  remember,  and  with  pride  repeat,    [knew ! 
The   rapid   progrefs   which   our    friendfhip 

Even  at  the  firft  with  willing  minds  we  met ; 

And  ere  the  root  was  fix'd,the  branches  grew. 
In  vain  had  fortune  plac'd  her  weak  barrier  : 
Clear  was  thy  breaft  from  pride,  and  mine  from 
fcrvilc  fear. 

1  faw  thee  gen'rous,  and  with  joy  can  fay 

My  education  rofe  above  my  birth,         [clay 
Thanks  to  thofe  parent  fhades,  on  whofe  cold 
Fall  fall  my  tears,  and  lightly  iie  the  earth! 
To  them  I  owe  whate'er  I  dare  pretend 
Thou  faw'ft  with  partial  eyes,  and  bade  me  call 
thee  friend. 

Let  others  meanly  heap  the  treafur'd  ftore, 

And  awkward  fondncfs  cares  on  cares  employ, 
To  leave  a  race  more  exquifitely  poor, 

Poflefs'd  of  riches  which  they  ne'er  enjoy  ; 
He's  only  kind  who  takes  the  nobler  way 
T'  unbind  the  fprings  of  thought,  and  give  them 
power  to  play. 

His  heirs  {hall  blefs  him,  and  look  down  with 
i  fcorn 

On  all  that  titles,  birth,  or  wealth  afford ; 
Lords  of  themfelves,  thank  Heaven  that  they 

were  born 

Above  the  fordid  mifer's  glitt'ring  hoard, 
Above  the  fervile  grandeur  of  a  throne, 
For  they  are  nature's  heirs,  and  ail  her  works 
their  own. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

ON  T11E  DEATH  OF  A  KELATION. 

O  CHARLES,  'tis  now  the  tender,  trying  time, 
The  hour  of  friendfhip,  the  fad  moment, 

when 
_  You  muft  a  while  indulge  a  virtuous  crime, 

And  hide  your  own  to  eafe  another's  pain, 
The  mournful  tribute  nature  claims  forego, 
To  calm  a  fofter  bread,  and  win  it  from  its  woe. 

Yet  think  not  confolation,  vainly  dreft 

In  Tully's  language,  and  the  learned  pride 

Of  wordy  eloquence,  can  footh  the  bread 
Of  real  grief,  or  bid  the  tear  fubfide,     [eye; 

The  heartfelt  tear,  which  ftreams  from  virtue's 
For  virtue's  noblcft  proof  is  foft  humanity. 

Let  dull  unfeeling  pedants  talk  by  rote 
Of  Cato's  foul,  which  could  itfelf  fubdue ; 

Or  idle  fcraps  of  Stoic  fuflian  quote, 

And  bravely  bear  the  pangs  they  never  knew: 

Refin'd  from  men,  to  deferts  let  them  fly,    [die. 
And,  'mid  their  kindred  rocks,  unpitied  live,  and 

But  He,  whofe  mercy  melt*  in  vetnal  ikies, 
Whole  attribute  is  univerfal  love, 

Knit  man  to  man  by  nature's  tend" reft  ties, 
And  bade  us  focial  joys  and  forrows  prove  ; 

Bade  us  bedew  with  tears  the  kindred  urn, 
And  for  a  brother  loft  like  fad  Maria  mourn. 


He  bids  thee  too,  in  whifpcrs  felt  within, 
For  fure  he  finely  tun'd  thy  focial  foul, 
Hafte  to  the  lovely  mourner,  and  reftrain 
Griefs  fweliing  tides  which  in  her  boforn 

roll, 

Not  by  obflructing  the  tumultuous  courfe, 
But  Healing  by  degrees,  and  yielding  to  its  force. 

As  the  kind  parent  treats  the  wounded  child 

With  open  fmiles,  and  only  weeps  by  ftealth  ; 
Its  wayward  pain  with  condefcenfion  mild 

She  charms  to  reft,  and  cheats  it  into  health : 
So  muft  we  lightly  urge  th'  afflicted  fair, 
Probe  the  felf  toi  tur'd  breaft,  and  teach  it  how 
to  bear. 

Improve  each  moment  when  th'  elaftic  mind, 
Tir'd  with  its  plaints,  refumes  the  bent  of 

mirth ; 

Lead  it  to  joys,  not  boiftrous,  but  refin'd, 
Far  from  thofe  fcenes  which  gave  its  forrow» 
birth,  [vale, 

Through  the  fmooth  paths  of  fancy's  flowery 
And  the  long  devious  tracks  of  fome  well-woven 
tale. 

Though  oft  I've  known  a  forrow  like  to  theirs, 

In  well-devifed  ftory  painted  ftrong, 
Cheat  the  fond  mourners  of  their  real  cares, 

And  draw  perforce  the  lift'ning  ear  along  ; 
Till  powerful  fiction  taught  the  tears  to  flow, 
And  more  than  half  their  grief  bcwail'd  another's 
woe. 

But  fi'e,  alas,  unfortunately  wife, 

Will  fee  through  every  fcheme  thy  art  can 

frame, 
Reject  with  honeft  fcorn  each  mean  difguife, 

And  her  full  fliare  of  genuine  anguifh  claim; 
Wild  as  the  winds  which  ocean's  face  deform, 
Or  filent  as  the  deep  ere  rolls  th'  impetuous  ftorm. 

Why  had  flie  talents  given  beyond  her  fex. 
Or  why  thofe  talents  did  her  care  improve  ? 

Free  from  the  follies  which  weak  minds  perplex. 
But  moft  expos'd  to  all  which  moft  can  move. 

Great  fouls  alone  are  curs'd  with  grief's  excefs, 
That  quicker  finer  fenfe  of  exquifite  diftrefs. 

Yet  fliall  that  power  beyond  her  fex,  at  laft,       * 

Not  giv'n  in  vain,  o'er  grief  itfelf  prevail, 
Stop  thofe  heart-burfting  groans  which  heave 

fo  faft, 

And  reafon  triumph  where  thy  counfels  fail ; 
Save  when  fome  well-known  object  ever  dear 
Retails  th*  untutor'd  (igh,  or  fudden-ftarting  tear. 

Such  tender  tribute  to  departed  friends 

Through  life  alas  muft  fad  remembrance  pay; 
And  fuch,  O  Charles,  when  kinder  fate  extends 

Thy  ftronger  thread  beyond  my  fatal  day, 
Such  fhali  I  hope  from  thee,  till  thou  refign 
The  lalt  fure  pledge  of  love  to  fome  poor  friend 
of  thine. 

TO  MR.  GARRICK. 

Ov  old  Parnaflus,  t'ether  day, 
The  tnufes  met  to  fing  and  play  ; 
Apart  from  the  reft  were  feen 
The  tragic  and  the  comic  queen, 


THE  WORKS   OF  W.   WHITEHEA». 


Engag'd,  perhaps,  in  deep  debate 

On  Rich's,  or  on  Fleetwood's  fate. 

When,  on  a  hidden,  news  was  brought 

That  Garrtck  had  the  patent  got, 

And  both  their  ladyfliips  again 

Might  now  return  to  Drury-Lane. 

They  bovv'd,  they  fimper'd,  and  agreed, 

They  wifh'd  the  project  might  fucceed, 

'Twas  very  poflible  ;  the  cafe 

Was  likely  too,  and  had  a  face — 

A  face  !  Thalia  titt'ring  cry'd, 

And  could  her  joy  no  longer  hide  ; 

Why,  filler,  all  the  world  mud  fee 

How  much  this  makes  for  you  and  me : 

No  longer  now  fliall  we  expofe 

Our  unbought  goods  to  empty  rows, 

Or  meanly  be  oblig'd  to  court 

From  foreign  aid  a  weak  fupport  ; 

No  more  the  poor  polluted  fcene 

Shall  teem  with  births  of  Harlequin? 

Or  vindicated  flage  (hall  feel 

The  infults  of  the  dancer's  heel. 

Such  idle  trafh  we'll  kindly  fyare 

To  operas  now — they'll  w  ant  them  there  ; 

For  Sadler's- Wells,  they  fay,  this  year 

Has  quite  outdone  their  engineer. 

Pugh,  you're  a  wag,  the  bufkin'd  prude 
Reply'd,  and  fmil'd  ;  befide  'tis  rude 
To  laugh  at  foreigners,  yon  know, 
And  triumph  o'er  a  vanquifli'd  foe : 
For  my  part,  I  mail  be  content 
If  things  fucceed  as  they  are  meant ;          » --    • 
And  fhould  not  be  difpleas'd  to  find 
Some  changes  of  the  tragic  kind. 
And  fay,  Thalia,  mayn't  we  hope 
The  ftage  will  take  a  larger  fcope  ? 
Shall  he,  whofe  all-exprefllve  powers 
Can  reach  the  heights  which  Shakfpeare  {bars, 
Defcend  to  touch  an  humbler  key, 
And  tickle  ears  with  poetry ; 
Where  every  tear  is  taught  to  flow 
Through  many  a  line's  melodious  woe, 
And  heart-felt  pangs  of  deep  diftrefs 
Are  fritter'd  into  fimilies  ? 
— O  thou,  whom  nature  taught  the  art 
To  pierce,  to  cleave,  to  tear  the  heart, 
Whatever  name  delight  thy  ear, 
Othello,  Richard,  Hamlet,  Lear, 
O  undertake  my  juft  defence, 
And  banifh  all  but  nature  hence  ! 
See,  to  thy  aid  with  dreaming  eyes 
The  fair  afflicted  *  Conftance  flies ; 
Now  wild  as  winds  in  madnefs  tears 
Her  heaving  breads,  and  fcatter'd  hairs  ; 
Or  low  on  earth  difdains  relief, 
With  all  the  confcious  pride  of  grief. 
My  Pritchard  too  in  Hamlet's  queen— 
The  goddcfs  of  the  fportive  vein 
Here  ftop'd  her  fhort,  and  with  a  freer, 
My  Pritchard,  if  you  pleafe,  my  dear  ! 
Her  tragic  merit  I  confefs, 
But  furely  miners  her  proper  drefs  ; 
Behold  her  there  with  native  eafe 
And  native  fpirit,  born  to  pleafe ; 

*  Mrs.  Gibber  in  the  chamber  of  Lady  Con- 
fltince  in  Sbakfpc  are's  King  John. 


With  all  Maria's  charms  engage, 

Or  Miiwood's  arts,  or  Touchwood's  rage)- 

Through  every  foible  trace  the  fair, 

Or  leave  the  town,  and  toilet's  care, 

To  chant  in  forefts  unconfin'd 

The  wilder  notes  of  Rofahnd. 

O  thou,  where-e'er  thou  fix  thy  praife, 
Brute,  Drugger,  Fribble,  Ranger,  Bays .' 
O  join  with  her  in  my  behalf, 
And  teach  an  audience  when  to  laugh. 
So  fliall  buffoons  with  fhame  repair 
To  draw  in  fools  at  Smithfield  fair, 
And  real  humour  charm  the  age, 
Though  *Falftaff  mould  forfake  the  ftage, 

She  fpoke.    Melpomene  reply'd, 
And  much  was  faid  on  either  fide  ; 
And  many  a  chief,  and  many  a  fair, 
Were  mention 'd  to  their  credit  there. 
But  I'll  not  venture  to  difplay 
What  goddeffes  think  fit  to  fay. 
However,  Garrick,  this  at  leaft 
Appears  by  both  a  truth  confeft, 
That  their  whole  fate  for  many  a  yea* 
But  hangs  on  your  paternal  care. 
A  nation's  tafte  depends  on  you  : 
— Perhaps  a  nation's  virtue  too. 
O  think  how  glorious  'twere  to  raife 
A  theatre  to  virtue's  praife. 
Where  no'  indignant  blufli  might  rife, 
Nor  wit  be  taught  to  plead  for  vice  ; 
But  every  young  attentive  ear 
Imbibe  the  precepts,  living  there. 
And  every  unexperienc'd  bread 
There  feel  its  own  rude  hints  expreftv 
And,  waken'd  by  the  glowing  fcene. 
Unfold  the  worth  that  lurks  within. 

If  poffible,  be  perfect  quite ; 
A  r'ew  fhort  rules  will  guide  you  right. 
Confulr  your  own  good  fenfe  in  all, 
Be  deaf  to  fafhion's  fickle  call, 
Nor  e'er  defcend  from  reafon's  laws 
To  court,  what  you  command,  applaufe. 

NATURE  TO  DR.  HOADLY, 

ON  HIS  COMEDY  OF  THE  SUSPICIOUS  HtISBAN». 

SLY  hypocrite  !  was  this  your  aim  ? 
To  borrow  Pjeon's  facred  name, 
And  lurk  beneath  his  graver  mien, 
To  trace  the  fecrets  of  my  reign  ? 
Did  I  for  this  applaud  your  zeal, 
And  point  out  each  minuter  wheel, 
Which  finely  taught  the  next  to  roll, 
And  made  my  works  one  perfect  whole? 
For  who,  but  I,  till  you  appeared, 
To  model  the  dramatic  herd, 
E'er  bade  to  won'dring  ears  and  eyes, 
Such  pleafing  intricacies  rife  ? 
Where  every  part  is  nicely  true, 
Yet  touches  ftill  the  mafter  clue; 
Each  riddle  opening  by  degrees, 
Till  all  unravels  with  fuch  eafe, 
That  only  thofe  who  will  be  blind 
Can  feel  one  doubt  perplex  their  mini 

*  Mr.  Quin,  inimitable  in  that  character,  <wl> 
was  then  leaving  thejlage. 


POEMS. 


9*7 


Nor  was't  enough,  you  thought,  to  write  ; 
Bat  you  mult  impioufly  unite 
With  Garrick  too,  who  long  before 
Had  ftol'n  my  whole  exprefiive  pow'r. 
That  changeful  Proteus  of  the  ftage> 
Ufurps  my  mirth,  my  grief,  my  rage  ; 
And  as  hi>  different  parts  incline, 
Gives  joys  or  pains,  (incere  as  mine. 

Yet  you  Tr.all  find  (howe'er  elate 
You  triumph  in  your  former  cheat) 
'Tis  not  ib  eafy  to  efcape 
In  Nature's,  as  in  Paeon's  (hape. 
For  every  critic,  great  or  {"mall, 
Hates  every  thing  that's  natural. 
The  beaux,  and  ladies  too,  canft  fay, 
"What  does  he  mean  ?  is  this  a  play  i 
We  fee  luch  people  every  day. 
Nay  more,  to  chafe,  and  teize  your  fpleen, 
And  teach  you  how  to  (leal  again, 
My  very  fools  (hall  prove  you're  bit, 
And  damn  you  tor  your  want  of  wit. 


TO  RICHARD  OWEN  CAMBRIDGE, 

DEAR  Cambridge,  teach  your  friend  the  art 

You  ufe  to  gain  the  "lufe's  heart, 

And  make  her  ib  entiieiy  yours, 

That  ut  a:I  kalons,  and  all  hours, 

The  anxious  g, •;,   cis  icacly  ftands 

To  v  ai»    :-.e  motion  of  your  hands. 

If  v»s  of  old  a  truth  confeit 
That  poets  muft  have  netdful  reft, 
And  every  imp  of  Phoebus'  quire 
To  philosophic  (Laces  retire, 
Amid  ,-aofc  rlowory  Icenesof  eafe 
To  pick  up  ienfe  and  fimiles. 
Had  Virgil  Deen  from  coaft  to  coaft, 
Like  his  /Eneas.  tempe!t-toft, 
Or  paf:,'d  life's  fluctuating  dream 
On  Tybei ';  or  -in  .vlincio's  dream, 
He   .:i/ht  hav;  be^n  expert  in  failing  ; 
But  MJEVIUS  ne'er  had  fear'd  his  railing, 
Nor  great  Auguitus  fav'd  frum  fire 
The  relics  of  a  trav'ling  I'quire. 

Had  Horace  too,  from  day  to  day, 
Run  poft  upon  the  Appian  way, 
In  reftlelV  journeys  to  and  from 
Brundifium,  Capua,  and  Rome ; 
The  bard  h".d  frarcely  found  a  time 
To  put  that  very  road  in  rhyme ; 
And  fav'd  great  cities  much  expence 
In  lab'ring  to  miftake  his  fenfe. 

Nay  he,  whofe  Greek  is  out  of  date 
Since  Pope  defcended  to  tranflate, 
Though  wand'nng  (till  from  place  to  place, 

At  lead  lay  by  in  ttormy  weather 
(Whate'er  Perrault  or  vVotton  fays) 

To  tack  his  rhapfodies  together. 

But  you,  reverGng  every  rule 
Of  ancient  or  of  modern  fchoo!, 
Nor  hurt  by  noife,,  nor  cramp'd  by  rhymes, 
Can  all  things  do,  and  at  all  times. 
Your  own  Scriblerus  never  knew 
A  more  unlettled  life  than  you, 
Yet  Pope  in  Twit'nam's  peaceful  grot 
Scarce  ever  more  corre&ly  thought. 


In  whirligigs  it  is  confeft 
The  middle  line's  a  line  of  reft  ; 
And,  let  the  fides  fly  how  they  will, 
The  central  point  muft  needs  (land  ftill, 
Perhaps  your  mind,  like  one  of  thefe, 
Beholds  the  tumult  round  at  eafe, 
And  ftands,  as  firm  as  rock  in  ocean, 
The  centre  of  perpetual  motion. 

That  Csefar  did  three  things  at  once, 
Is  known  at  fchool  to  every  dunce  ; 
But  your  more  comprehenfive  mind 
Leaves  pidling  Czfar  far  behind. 
You  fpread  the  lawn,  direct  the  flood, 
Cut  viftas  through,  or  plant  a  wood, 
Build  China's  barks  for  Severn's  ftream, 
Or  form  new  plans  for  Epic  fame, 
And  then,  in  fpite  of  wind  or  weather, 
You  read,  row,  ride,  and  write  together. 

But  'tis  not  your  undoubted  claim 
To  naval  or  equeftrian  fame, 
Your  nicer  tafte,  or  quicker  parts, 
In  rural  or  mechanic  arts, 
(Though  each  alone  in  humbler  ftation 
Might  raife  both  wealth  and  reputation) 
It  is  not  thefe  that  I  would  hare, 
Bear  them,  o'  God's  name,  to  your  grave. 
But  'tis  that  unexhaufted  vein, 
That  quick  conception  without  pain, 
1'hat  (omethfng,  for  no  words  can  fliow  itj 
Which  without  leifure  makes  a  poet. 

Sure  Nature  caft,  indulgent  dame, 
Some  ftrange  peculiar  in  your  frame, 
From  whofe  well-lodg'd  prolific  feeds 
This  inexprgflive  power  proceeds, 

Or  does  Thalia  court  your  arms 
Becaufe  you  feem  to  flight  her  charms, 
And,  like  her  fifter  females,  fly 
From  our  dull  afliduity. 
If  that's  the  cafe,  I'll  foon  be  free, 
I'll  put  on  airs  as  well  as  me ; 
And  even  in  *  this  poetic  (hade, 
Where  erft  with  Pope  and  Gay  (lie  play'rf, 
Ev'n  here  I'll  tell  her  to  her  face 
I've  learn'd  to  fcorn  a  forc'd  embrace. 
In  (hort,  here  ends  her  former  reign ; 
And  if  we  e'er  begin  again 
It  muft  be  on  another  (core — 
I'll  write  like  you,  or  write  no  more. 


TO  MR.  MASON. 


BELIEVE  me,  Mafon,  'tis  in  vain 

Thy  fortitude  the  torrent  braves; 
Thou  too  muft  bear  th'  inglorious  chain  ; 

The  world,  the  world  will  have  its  flaves. 
The  chofen  friend  for  converfe  fweet, 
The  fmail    yet  elegant  retreat, 
Are  peaceful  unambitious  views 

Which  early  fancy  loves  to  form. 
When  aided  by  th'  ingenuous  mufe, 
She  turns  the  philofopnic  page, 
And  fees  the  wife  of  every  age, 

With  nature's  dictates  warm. 

*  Middleton  part,  Oxfordflnrt, 


r.3 


THE   WORKS  OF  W.   WH1TEHEAD. 


But  ah !  to  few  has  fortune  given 

The  choice,  to  take  or  to  ref ufe ; 
To  fewer  ftill  indulgent  Heaven 

Allots  the  very  will  to  choofe, 
And  why  are  varying  fchemes  prefer'd  ? 
Man  mixes  with  the  common  herd : 
By  cuftom  guided  to  purfue, 

Or  wealth,  or  honours,  fame,  or  cafe, 
What  others  wifli  he  wifties  too ; 
"Nor  from  his  own  peculiar  choice, 
'Till  ftrengthen'd  by  the  public  voice, 

His  very  pleafures  pleafe. 
in. 
How  oft,  beneath  fome  hoary  {hade 

Where  Cam  glides  indolently  flow, 
Haft  thou,  as  indolently  laid, 

Preferr'd  to  Heaven  thy  fav'rite  vow: 
"  Here,  here  forever  let  me  ftay, 
*'  Here  calmly  loiter  life  away, 
"  Nor  all  thofe  vain  connections  know 

"  Which  fetter  down  the  freeborn-mind, 
*'  The  flave  of  intereft,  or  of  {how  ; 
"  While  you  gay  tenant  of  the  grove, 
"  The  happier  heir  of  Nature's  love, 

"  Can. warble  unconfin'd." 


Yet  fure,  my  friend,  th'  eternal  plan 

By  truth  unerring  was  defign'd ; 
Inferior  parts  were  made  for  man, 

But  man  himfelf  for  all  mankind. 
Then  by  th'  apparent  judge  th"  unfeen; 
Hehold  how  rolls  this  vaft  machine 
To  one  great  end,  howe'er  withftood, 

Directing  its  impartial  courfe. 
All  labour  for  the  general  good  :• 
Some  ftem  the  wave,  fome  till  the  fo!l, 
By  choice  the  bold,  th'  ambitious  toil, 

The  indolent  by  force. 
v. 

That  bird,  thy  fancy  frees  from  care, 

With  many  a  fear  unknown  to  thee, 
Muft  rove  to  glean  his  fcanty  fare 

From  field  to  field,  from  tree  to  tree. 
His  lot,  united  with  his  kind, 
Has  all  his  little  joys  confin'd  ; 
The  lover's  and  the  parent's  ties 

Alarm  by  turns  his  anxious  breaft, 
Yet,  bound  by  fate,  by  inftindl  wife, 
He  hails  with  fongs  the  rifing  morn, 
And,  pleas'd  at  evening's  cool  return, 

He  fings  himfelf  to  reft. 

VI. 

And  tell  me,  has  not  nature  made 

Some  ftated  void  for  thee  to  fill, 
Some  fpring,  fome  wheel,  which  aflcs  thy  aid 

To  move,  regardlefs  of  thy  will  ? 
Go  then,  go  feel  with  glad  furprife 
New  blifs  from  new  attentions  rife ; 
Till,  happier  in  thy  wider  fphere, 

Thou  quit  thy  darling  fchemes  of  eafe  ; 
Kay,  glowing  in  the  full  career, 
Ev'n  wifli  thy  virtuous  labours  more- ; 
Nor  'till  the  toilfome  day  is  o'er 

Exp ed  the  night  of  peace. 


TO  THE  REV.  DR.  LOWTH*. 

ON  HIS  LlFI  OF  WILLIAM  OF  WYKEHAM. 

O  LOWTH,  while  Wykeham's  various  worth  you 
trace, 

And  bid  to  diflant  times  his  annals  {hine, 
Indulge  another  bard  of  Wykeham's  race 

In  the  fond  wifli  to  add  his  name  to  thine. 

From  the  fame  font,  with  reverence  let  me  boaft,- 
The  claflic  ftreams  with  early  thirfl.  I  caught ; 

What  time,  they  fay,  the  mufes  revel'd  moil, 
When  Bigg  prefided,  and  when  Burton  taught. 

But  the  fame  fate,  which  led  me  to  the  fpring, 
Forbade  me  farther  to  purfue  the  ftream ; 

Perhaps  as  kindly  ;  for,  as  fages  fing, 
Of  chance  and  fate  full  idly  do  we  deem. 

And  fure  in  Granta's  philofophic  (hade 

Truth's  genuine  image  beam'd  upon  my  fight; 

And  flow-ey'd  reafon  lent  his  fober  aid 

To  form,  deduce,  compare,  and  judge  aright. 

Yes,  ye  fweet  fields,  befide  your  ofier'd  ftream 
Full  many  an  Attic  hour  my  youth  enjoy'd ; 

Full  many  a  friendfhip  form'd,  life's  happieft  dream# 
And  treafur'd  many  a  blifs  which  never  cloy'd. 

ifet  may  the  pilgrim,  o'er  his  temperate  fare 
At  eve,  with  pleafing  recollection  fay 

Twas  the  frefti  morn  which  ftrung  his  nerves  ttf 

bear 
The  piercing  beam,  and  ufeful  toils  of  day. 

o  let  me  ftill  with  filial  love  purfue 
The  nurfe  and  parent  of  my  infant  thought, 

From  whence  the  colour  of  my  life  I  drew, 
When  Bigg  prefided,  and  when  Burton  taught 

O  names  by  me  rever'd  ? — 'till  memory  die, 
'Till  my  deaf  ear  forget  th'  enchanting  flow 

Of  verfe  harmonious,  fliall  my  mental  eye 

Trace  back  old  time,  and  teach  my  breaft  t* 
glow. 

Peace  to  that  honour'd  made,  whcfc  mortal  frame 
Sleeps  in  the  bofoni  of  its  parent  earth, 

While  his  freed  foul,  which  boafts  celeftial  flame, 
Perhaps  now  trjumphs  in  a  nobler  birth. 

Perhaps  with  Wykeham,  from  fome  blifsful  bower  > 
Applauds  thy  labours,  or  prepares  the  wreath 

For  Burton's  generous  toil.— Th'  infatiate  power 
Extends  his  deathful  fway  o'er  all  that  breathe; 

Nor  aught  avails  it  that  the  virtuous  fage, 

Forms  future  bards,  or  Wykehams  yet  to  come; 

Nor  ought  avails  it,  that  his  green  old  age, 

From  youth  well  fpent,  may  feem  t"  elude  the 
tomb : 

For  Burton  too  muft  fall.    And  o'er  his  urn, 
While  fciencehahgsherfculptur'dtrophiesround, 

The  letter' d  tribes  of  half  an  age  fhall  mourn, 
Whofe  lyres  he  ftrung,  and  added  fcnfe  to  found. 

Nor  {hall  his  candid  ear,  I  truft,  difdain 
This  artlefs  tribute  of  a  feeling  mind  ; 

And  thou,  O  Lowth,{hah  own  the  grateful  ftrain, 
Mean  though  it  flow,  was  virtuoufly  defign'd  » 

d  £i/oej>  of  Londv^t 


POEMS. 


929 


Tor  'twas  thy  work  infpir'd  the  melting  mood 
To  feel,  and  pay  the  facred  debt  I  ow'd : 

And  the  next  virtue  to  bellowing  good, 

Thou  know'ft,  is  gratitude  for  good  beftow'd. 

TO  THE  REV.  MR.  WRIGHT. 

175*- 

PRITHEE  teaze  me  no  longer,  dear  troublefome 
friend, 

On  a  fubjecT:  which  wants  not  advice : 
You  may  make  me  unhappy,  but  never  can  mend 

Thofe  ills  I  have  learnt  to  defpife. 
You  fay  I'm  dependent ;  what  then  ? — if  I  make 

That  dependence  quite  eafy  to  me, 
Say  why  fhould  you  envy  my  lucky  miftake, 

Or  why  ihould  I  wifh  to  be  free  ? 

Many  men  of  let's  worth,  you  partially  cry, 

To  fplendour  and  opulence  loar ; 
Snppofe  I  allow  it. ;  yet,  pray  Sif ,  am  I 

Lefs  happy  becaufe  they  are  more  .' 

But  why  faid  I  happy  ?  I  aim  not  at  that, 

Mere  eafe  is  my  humble  requell ; 
I  would  neither  repine  at  a  niggardly  fate, 

Nor  ftre.tch  my  wings  far  from  my  neft. 

Nor  e'er  may  my  pride  or  my  folly  reflect 
On  the  fav'rites  whom  fortune  has  made, 

Regardlefs  of  thoufands  who  pine  with  neglect 
In  penfive  obfcurity's  ihade ; 

With  whom  when  comparing  the  merit  I  boaft, 
Though  rais'd  by  indulgence  to  fame,     , 

I  fink  in  confufion  bewilder'd  and  loft, 
And  wonder  1  am  what  I  am ! 

And  what  are  thefe  wonders,  thefe  bleflings  refin'd 
Which  fplendour  and  opulence  fhower  ? 

The  health  of  the  body,  and  peace  of  the  mind, 
Are  things  which  are  out  of  their  power. 

To  contentment's  calm  funfhine,  the  lot  of  the  few, 

Can  infolent  greatnefs  pretead  ? 
Or  can  it  beftow,  what  I  boaft  of  in  you,  . 

That  bleffing  of  biefiings,  a  friend  ? 

We  may  pay  fome  regard  to  the  rich  and  the  great, 
But  how  feldom  we  love  them  you  know  ; 

Or  if  we  do  love  them,  it  is  riot  their  ftttte, 
The  tinfel  and  plume  of  the  fhow. 

But  fome  fecret  virtues  we  find  in  the  heart  . 

When  the  mafic  is  laid  kindly  afide, 
Which  birth  cannot  give  them,  nor  riches  impart, 

And  which  never  oute  heard  of  their  pride. 

A  flow  of  good  fpirits  I've  feen  wit!)  a  fmile 
To  worth  make  a  fhallow  pretence; 

And  the  chat  of  good  breeding  with  eafe,  for  a 

while, 
May  pafs  for  good  nature,  and  fcnfe  ; 

But  where  is  the  bofom  untainted  by  art, 
The  judgment  fo  modeft  and  ilay'd, 

That  union  fo  rare  of  the  head  and  the  heart, 
Which  fixes  the  friends  it  has  made  ? 

For  thofc  whom  the  great  and  the  wealthy  employ 

Their  pleafure  or  vanity's  flaves, 
Whate'er  they  can  give  I  without  them  enjoy, 


•  they 
And  am  rid  of  iu 
VOL.  XI, 


vithout  them  enjoy, 
;  fo  many  knaves. 


or  the  many  whom  titles  alone  can  allure, 
And  the  blazon  of  ermine  and  gules, 

wrap  myfclf  round  in  my  lownefs  fccurc, 
And  am  rid  of  juft  fo  many  fools. 

Then  why  fhould  I  covet  what  cannot  increafe 
iVIy  delights,  and  may  leffen  their  ftorc; 
y  preicnt  condition  is  quiet  and  eafe, 
And  what  can  my  future  be  more  ? 

Should  fortune  capricioufly  c'eafe  to  be  coy, 
And  in  torrents  of  plenty. defcend,  , 

I,  doubtkfs,  like  others,  fhould  clafp  her  with  joy, 
And  my  wants  and  aiy  wifhes  extend. 

But  fmce  'tis  derry'd  me,  and  Heaven  beft  knows 

Whether  kinder  to  grant  it  or  not, 
ay,  why  fhould  I  vainly  difturb  my  repofe, 
And  peevifhly  carp  at  my  lot  ? 

Mo ;  ftill  let  me  follow  fage  Horace's  rule, 
Who  tried  all  things,  and  held  fafl  the  beft; 

Learn  daily  to  put  all  my  pafiions  to  fchool, 
And  keep  the  due  poife  of  my  breaft. 

Thus,  firm  at  the  helm,  I  glide  calmly  away,- 
Like  the  merchant  long  us'd  to.  the  deep, 

Nor  truft  for  my  fafety  on  life's  ftormy  fea, 
To  the  gilding  and  paint  of  my  fliip. 

Nor  yet  can  the  giants  of  honour  and  pelf 

My  want  of  ambition  deride, 
He  who  rules  his  own  bofom  is  lord  of  himfelf, 

And  lord  of  all  nature  befiele.  4 

ODE  TO  THE  TIBER, 

ON   ENTERING  THE  CAMPANIA  OF  ROME,  AT 
OtJUCOLI.    1755. 

HAIL  facred  ftream,  whofe  waters  roll 
Immortal  through  the  claffic  page  ! 
To  thee  the  rhufe-devoted  foul, 

Though  deftih'd  to  a  later  age 
And  lefs  indulgent  clime,  to  thee,  , 
Nor  thou  diidain,  in  Runic  lays, 
Weak  mirhic  of  true  harmony, 

His  grateful  homage  pays. 
Far  other  {trains,  thine  elder  ear 
With  pleas'd  attention  wont  to  hear, 
When  he,  who  flrung  the  Latian  lyre, 
And  he,  who  led  th*  Aonian  quiie  . 

From  Mantua's  reedy  lakes  with  ofiers  crowr/d, 
Taught  echo  from  thy  banks  with  transport  to  re- 
found.  . 
Thy  banks  ?— alas,  is  th.isnlje  boafted  fcene, 
This  dreary,  wide,  uncultivated  plain, 
Where  fick'ning'  nature  wears  a  fainter  green, 
An'd  defection  Spreads  her  torpid  reign  ? 
Is  this  the  fcene  where  freedom  breath'd 
•Her  copious-horn  where  plenty  wreath'd, 

And  health  at  opening  day  , 
Bade  all  her  rofeate  breezes  fly, 
To  wake  the  fqns  of  induftry, 
And  make  their  fields  more  gay  ? 

Where  is  the  villa's  rural  pride,  - 

The  fwelling  dome's  imperial  gleam, 

Which  lov'd  to  grace  thy  verdant  fide, 
And  tremble  in  thy  golden  ftream  ? 

Where  are  the  hold,  the  bufy  throngs, 
That  rwfBi'd  impatient  to  the  war, 

3N 


930 


THE  WORKS  OF  W.   WHITE  HEAD. 


Or  tun'd  to  peace  triumphal  fongs, 
And  hail'd  the  pafling  car  ? 
Along  the  folitary  *  road, 
Th'  eternal  flint  by  Confuls  trod, 
"We  mufc,  and  mark  the  fad  decays 
Of  mighty  works,  and  mighty  days  ! 
For  thefe  vile  waftes,  we  cry,  had  fate  decreed 
That  Veii's  Ions  fticuld  ftrive,  for  thefe  Camillus 

bleed  ? 
Did  here,  in  after-times  of  Roman  pride, 

The  mufirig  fhepherd  from  Soradlc's  height 
See  towns  extend  where'er  thy  waters  glide, 
And  temples  rife,  and  peopled  farms  unite  1 
They  did.     For  this  deferted  plain 
The  hero  ftrovc,  nor  ftrove  in  vain  ; 

And  here  the  fhepherd  faw 
Unnumber'd  towns  and  temples  fpread, 
While  Rome  majeftic  rcar'd  her  head, 
And  gave  the  nations  law. 

Yes,  thou  and  Latium  once  were  great. 

And  ftill,  ye  firft  of  human  things, 
Beyond  the  grafp  of  time  or  fat? 

Her  fame  and  thine  triumphant  fpring*. 
What  though  the  mould'ring  columns  fall, 

And  ftrow  the  dcfart  earth  beneath, 
Though  ivy  round  each  nodding  wall 

Entwine  its  fatal  wreath, 
Yet  fay,  can  Rhine  or  Danube  boaft 
The  numerous  glories  thou  haft  loft  ? 

Can  ev'n  Euphrates'  palmy  fhore, 

Or  Nile,  with  all  his  myftic  lore, 
Produce  from  old  records  of  genuine  fame 
Such  heroes,  poets,  kings,  or  emulate  thy  name  ? 

*   The  Flamir.ian  -way. 


Ev'n  now  the  mufe,  the  confcious  mufe  is  here ; 

From  every  ruin's  formidable  ihade 
Eternal  mufic  breathes  on  fancy's  tar,       [dead. 
And  wakes  to  more  than  form  th1  illuftrious 

1  hy  Cxfars,  Scipios,  Catos,  rife 

The  great,  the  virtuous,  and  the  wife, 
In  folcmn  ftate  advance! 

They  Ex  the  philofophic  eye, 

Or  trail  the  robe,  or  lift  on  high 
The  light'ning  of  the  lance. 

But  chief  that  humbler,  happier  train, 
Who  knew  thofe  virtues  to  reward 
Beyond  the  reach  of  chance  or  pain 
Secure,  th'  hiftorian  and  the  bard. 
By  them  the  hero's  generous  rage 

Still  warm  in  youth  immortal  lives; 
And  in  their  adamantine  page 

Thy  glory  ftill  furvives. 
Through  deep  favannahs  wild  and  vaft, 
Unheard,  unknown  through  ages  paft, 
Beneath  the  fun's  direeler  beams, 
What  copious  torrents  pour  their  ftrearm! 
No  fame  have  they,  no  fond  pretence  to  mourn, 
No  annals  fwell  their  pride,  or  grace  their  ftoried 

urn. 
While  thou,  with  Rome's  exalted  genius  join'd, 

Her  fpear  yet  lifted,  and  her  corflet  brac'd, 
Canft  tell  the  waves,  canft  tell  the  pafling  wind, 
Thy  wond'rous  tale,  and  cheer  the  lift'ningwaftc. 
Though  from  his  caves  th'  unfeeling  north 
Pour'd  all  his  legion'd  tempefls  forth, 

Yet  ftill  thy  laurels  bloom : 
One  deithlcfs  glory  ftill  remains, 
Thy  ftream  has  roll'd  through  Latian  plains, 
Has  walh'd  the  walls  of  Rome. 


ELEGIES. 


ELEGY  I. 

WJflTTEN  AT  THE  CONVENT  OF   HAUT  VILLERS, 
IN  CHAMPAGNE.    17^4. 

SiX'ENT  and  clear,  through  yonder  peaceful  vale, 
Whilt  Marne's  flow  waters  weave  their  mazy 
way, 

See,  to  th'  exulting  fun,  and  foft'ring  gale, 

What  boundlefs  treafures  his  rich  banks  difplay ! 

Faft  by  the  ftream,  and  at  the  mountain's  bafe, 
The  lowing  herds  through  living  paftures  rove ; 

Wide  waving  harvefts  crown  the  riftng  fpace ; 
And  ftill  fuperior  nods  the  viny  grove. 

High  on  the  top,  as  guardian  of  the  fcene, 
Imperial  Sylvan  fpreads  his  umbrage  wide ; 

Nor  wants  there  many  a  cot,  and  fpirc  between, 
Or  in  the  vale,  or  on  the  mountain's  fide, 

To  mark  that  man,  as  tenant  of  the  whole, 
Claims  the  juft  tribute  of  his  culturing  care, 

Yet  pays  to  Heaven,  iu  gratitude  of  foul, 

The  boon  which  Heaven  accepts  of  praife  and 
prayer. 


O  dire  efFe<$b  of  war !  the  time  has  been 
U'hen  defolation  vaunted  here  her  reign ; 

One  ravag'd  defart  was  yon  beauteous  fcene, 
And  Marne  ran  purple  to  the  frighted  Seine. 

Oft  at  his  work,  the  toilfome  day  to  cheat, 
The  iwain  ftill  talks  of  thofe  difallrous  times. 

When  Guifc's  pride,  and  Conde's  ill-ftar'd  heat, 
Taught  Chnftian  zeal  to  authorife  their  crimes; 

Oft  to  his  children  fportive  on  the  grafs, 
Does  dreadful  tales  of  worn  tradition  tell, 

Oft  points  to  Epernay's  ill-fated  pafs,  [fell. 

Where  force  thrice  triumph'd,  and  where  Biron 

O  dire  effects  of  war !  may  ever  more         [ceafe  ! 

Through  this  fweet  vale  the  voice  of  difeord 
A  Britilhhard  to  Gallia's  fertile  ftiore 

Can  wiih  the  bleflings  of  eternal  peace. 

Yet  lay,  ye  monks  (beneath  whofe  mofs-gro\ 
feat, 

Within  whofe  cloifter'd  cells  th'  indebted  mufe 
A  while  lojourns,  for  meditation  meet,         [fues), 

A.ud  tha's  Ionic  thoughts  in  penfive  flraiii  pur- 


Avails  it  aught,  that  wdr's  rude  tumults  fpare 
Yon  clufter'd  vineyard,  or  yon  golden  field, 


If  niggards  to  yourfelves,  and  fond  of  care, 

You  flight  the  joys  their  copious  treai'ures  yield  ? 

Avails  it  aught,  that  nature's  liberal  hand 

With  every  bit-fling  grateful  man  can  know, 
Clothes  the  rich  bofcmi  of  yon  fmiling  land, 
•    The  mountain's  Hoping  fide,  or  pendant  brow. 

If  meagre  famine  paint  your  pallid  cheek, 

.  If  breaks  the  midnight  bell  your  hours  of  reft 
Jf,  'midfl  heart-chilling  damps,  and  whiter  bleak, 
You  fliun  the  cheerful  bowl,  and  moderate  feaft! 

Look  forth,  and  be  convinc'd  !  'tis  nature  pleads, 
Her  ample  volume  opens  on  your  view  : 

The  fimple-minded  fvvain,  who  running  reads, 
Feels  the  glad  truth,  and  is  it  hid  from  you  ? 

Look  forth,  and  be   convinc'd!    Yon  profpedts 
wide 

To  reafon's  ear  how  forcibly  they  fpeak ! 
Compar'd  with  thofe,  how  dull  is  letter'd  pride  ! 

And  Auftin's  babbling  eloquence  how  weak  ! 

Temp' ranee,  not  abftinence,  in  every  blifs 

I«  man's  true  joy,  and  therefore  Heaven's  com.- 
mand. 

The  wretch  who  riot*  thanks  his  God  amifs  : 
Who  ftarves,  rejedb  the  bounties  of  his  hand. 

Mark,  while  the  Marne  in  yon  full  channel  glides, 
H»w  f'mooth  his  courfe,  how  nature  fmiles  a- 
round  ! 

But  fhould  impetuous  torrents  fwell  his  tides, 
The  fairy  lundfkip  finks  in  oceans  d'fown'd. 

Nor  lefs  difaftrous,  fhould  his  thrifty  urn 
Neglected,  leave  the  once  well-water' d  land, 

To  dreary  waftes  yon  paradife  would  turn, 
Polluted  ooze,  or  heaps  of  barren  faud. 


ELEGY  II. 

ON  *TUE  MAUSOLEUM  OF  AUGUSTUS. 
Totbi  Riglt  'Honour  able  Giorge  Bn/y  Villiers  t  Vif* 

count  Villiers. 
WRITTEN  AT   KOMI. 


E  L  E  G  I  E  $. 

Some  hero's  affies  iffue  from  the  tomb, 
And  live  a  vegetative  life  again. 


93* 


AMID  thcfe  mould'ring  walls,  this  marble  round, 
Wh^re  flept  the  heroes  of  the  Julian  name, 

Say,  fhall  we  linger  ftill  in  thought  profound, 
And  meditate  the  mournful  paths  to  fame  ? 

What  though  no  cyprefs  fnades  in  funer?.!  rows, 
No  fculptur'd  urns,  the  lafl  records  of  fate, 

O'er  the  fhrunk  terrace  wave  their  baleful  boughs, 
Or  breathe,  in,  Scried  emblems  of  the  great  ; 

Yet  not  with  heedlefs  eye  will  we  furvey 

The   fcene,  though   chang'd,  nor  negligently 
tread  ; 

Thefe  variegated  walks,  however  pay, 
Were  once  the  filent  manfions  of  the  dead. 

"In  every  fhrub,  in  every  flow'rct's  b'.com 

That  paints  with  different  hues  yon  fmiling  plain, 

*  It  is  nvvt  a  garfcr*  belonging  to  Marckeft  <H  Ccrrs, 


For  matter  dies  not,  as  the  fages  fay, 

But  fhifts  to  other  forms  the  pliant  mafs, 

When  the  free  fpirit  quits  its  cumb'rous  clay, 
And  fees,  beneath,  the  rolling  planets  pafs. 

Perhaps,  my  Vilik-rs,  for  I  f;ng  to  thee, 

Perhaps,  unknowing  or  tu.^  bloom  it  gives, 

In  yon  fair  fcyon  of  Apollo';  t/ce, 

The  facrcd  dull  of  young  M  trcellus  lives. 

Pluck  not  the  leaf — 't-vere  facriiege  to  wound 
Th'  ideal  memory  of  fo  fweet  a  ihade  ; 

In  thefe  fad  feats  au  early  grave  he  found, 
And  *  the  firft  rites  to  gloomy  D:s  convey'd. 

Witnefs  \  thou  field  of  Mars,  that  oft-  hadir  known 
His  youthful  triumph's  in  the  mnr.ic  wa>-, 

Thou  heard' ft  the  heart-felt  univerfal  groan, 
When  o'er  thy  bofom  roll'd  the  funeral  car. 

Witnefs i  thou  Tufcan  ftream,  where  oft  he  glow'd 
In  fportive  ftrugglings  with  th'  oppofi  ig  wave, 

Fait  by  the  recent  tomb  thy  waters  flow'd. 

While  wept  the  wile,  the  virtuous,  and  the  brave. 

O  loft  too  foon  ! — yet  why  foment  a  fate 

By  thoufands  envied,  and  by  Heav'n  approv'd  ? 

Rare  is  the  boon  to  thofe  of  longer  date 
To  live,  to  die,  admir'd,  efteem'd,  belov'd. 

Weak  are  our  judgments,  ^nd  our  paffions  warm, 
And  flowly  dawns  the  radiant  morn  of  truth, 

Our  expectations  haflily  we  form, 

And  much  we  pardon  to  ingenuous  youth. 

Too  oft  we  fatiate  on  the  applaufe  we  pay 
To  rifing  merit,  and  refume  the  crown  ; 

Full  many  a  blooming  genius  fiiatch'd  away,     • 
Has  fall'n  lamented,  who  had  liv'd  unknowns 

For  hard  the  tafk,  O  Villiers,  to  fuftain 
Th'  important  burden  of  an  early  fame ; 

Each  added  day  fome  added  worth  to  gain, 
Prevent  each  wifh,  and  anfwer  every  claim. 

Be  thou  Marcellus,  with  a  length  of  days  ! 

But  O  remember,  whatlbe'er  thou  art, 
The  mo'ft  exalted  breath  of  human  praife, 

To  pleafe  indeed  uiuft  echo  from  the  heart. 

Though  thou  be  brave, .be  virtuous,  and  be'wife, 
By  all,,  like  him,  admir'd,  efteem'd,  belov'd  ; 

'Tis  from  within  alcne  true  fame  can  rife, 
The  only  happy  is  the  felf-approv'd. 

ELEGY  III. 

To  tl:  Right  Honaurabl:  George  Simon  Harcourt, 
f'ifi-ouni  Nun^ijlim. 

WRITTEN   AT.  ROME.    1756. 

YES,  noble  youth,  'tis  true;  the  fofter  art?, 

Thefweetly-fouhdingftring,  and  pencil's  power, 

*  He  is  f. ltd  to  be  the Jirji perfun  bur'.sd  iit'tlis  monu 
ment. 

f  Quantos  ille  virum  magnam  Mavortis  ad  urbem 
Campus  aget  gemitus  ! 

\ Vel  qux,  Tyberrne,  videbis 

Funcra.  cum  tumulum  prdetcrkibere  rccentem. 


^4  THE   WORKS   OF 

Have  warm'd  to  rapture  even  heroic  hearts, 
And  taught  the  rude  to  wonder  and  adore. 
For  beauty  charms  us,  whether  fhe  appears 
In  blended  colours  ;  or  to  foothing  found 
Attune*  her  voice  ;  or  fair  proportion  weirs 

In  yonder  fwelling  dome's  harmonious  round. 
All,  all  (he  charms;  but  not  alike  to  all 

'Tis  given 'to  revel  in  her  bliisful  bower ; 
Coercive  ties,  and  reafon's  powerful  tall,      [vour. 

Bid  iome  but  tafte  the  fweets,  which  fonie  de- 
When  nature  govern'd,  and  when  man  was  young, 

Perhaps  at  will  th'  untutor'd  favage  rov'd, 
Where  waters  murmur'd,  and  where  cluflers  hung, 

He  fed,  and  flept  beneath  the  fhade  he  lov'd. 
But  fince  the  fage's  more  fagacious  mind, 
-    By  Heaven's  permiflion,  or  by  Heaven's  com 
mand, 
To  polifli'd  flates  has  focial  law*  affign'd, 

And  general  good  on  partial  duties  plann'd, 
Not  for  ourfelves  our  vagrant  fteps  we  bend  _ 

As  heedlefs  chance,  or  wanton  choice  ordain  ; 
On  various  Tuitions  various  talks  attend, 

And  men  are  born  to  trifle  or  to  reign. 
As  chauntsthe  woodman,  while  the  dryads  weep, 

And  falling  forefts  fear  the  uplifted  blow ; 
As  chaunts  the  fhepherd,  while  he  tends  his  fhecp, 

Or  weaves  to  pliant  forms  the  ofier  bough : 
To  me  'tis  given,  whom  fortune  loves  to  lead  [ers, 

Through  humbler  toils  to  life's  fequefter'd  bow- 
To  me  'tis  given  to  wake  th'  amufive  reed, 

And  footh  with  fong  the  folitary  hours. 
But  thee  fuperior,  foberer  toils  demand, 

Severer  paths  are  thine  of  patriot  fame ; 
*Thy  birth,  thy  friends,  thy  king,  thy  native  land, 

Have  given  thee'  honours,  and  have  each  their 

claim. 
Then  nerve  with  fortitude  thy  feeling  breaft, 

Each  wifh  to  combat,  and  each  pain  to  bear ; 
Spurn  with  difdiin  th'  inglorious  love  of  reft, 

Nor  let  the  fyren  eafc  approach  thine  ear. 
Beneath  yon  cyprefs  (hade's  eternal  green 

See  proftrate  Rome  her  wond'rous  ftory  tell, 
Mark  how  fhe  rofe  the  world's  imperial  queen, 

And  tremble  at  the  profpecl  how  fhe  fell '. 
Not  that  my  rigid  precepts  would  require 

A  painful  ftruggling  with  each  adverfe  gale, 
Forbid  thee  liften  to  th'  enchanting  lyre, 

Or  turn  thy  fteps  from  fancy's  flowery  vale. 

Whate'er  of  Greece  in  fculptur'd  brafs  furvives, 
Whate'er  of  Rotne  in  mould'ring  arcs  remains, 

Whate'er  of  genius  on  the  canvafs  lives, 
Or  flows  in  p.olifb.'d  verfe,  or  airy  drains, 

Be  thefe  thy  leifure  ;  to  the  chofen  few 
Who  dare  excel,  thy  foft'ring  aid  afford ; 

Their  art?,  their  magic  powers,  with  honours  due 
Exalt ;  but'  be  thyfelf  what  they  record, 

ELEGY  IV. 

To  an  Officer. 
WRITTEN  AT  ROME.     1756. 

FROM  Latian  fields,  the  manGons  of  renown, 
Where  fk'd  the  warrior  god  his  fated  feat ; 


W.    Will  IE  HE  AD. 

"Where  infant  heroes  learn'd  the  martial  frown, 
And  little  hearts  for  genuine  glory  beat ; 

What  for  my  friend,  my  foldier,  fhall  I  frame  * 
What  nobly-glowing  verfe    that  breathes  of 
arms, 

To  point  his  radiant  path  to  deathlefs  fame, 
By  great  examples,  and  terrific  charms  ? 

Quirinus firft,  withhold,  collected  bands, 

The  Cnevvy  fons  of  fbrength,  for  empire  ftrove  ; 

Beneath  his  prowefs  bow'd  th'  aflonifh'd  lands, 
And  temples  rofe  to  Mars,  and  to  Feretrian  Jove. 

War  taught  contempt  of  death,  contempt  of  pain, 
And  hence  the  Fabii,  hence  the  Decii  come  : 

War  urg'd  the  flaughter,  though  fhe  wept  the 

Cain, 
Stern  war,  the  rugged  nurfe  of  virtuous  Rome. 

But  not  from  antique  fables  will  I  draw, 

To  fire  thy  active  foul,  a  dubious  aid,         [awe, 

Though  now,  cv'n  nc>w,  they  flrike  with  rev  rend 
By  poets  or  hiftorian  facred  made. 

Nor  yet  to  thee  the  babbling  mufe  fhall  tell 

What    mighty    kings    with    all  their    legions 
wrought, 

What  cities  funk,  and  ftoried  nations  fell, 
When  Cacfar,  Titus,  or  when  Trajan  fought. 

While  o'er  yon  hill  th'  exalted  *  Trophy  fhows 
To  what  vaft  heights  of  incorrupted  praife 

The  great,  the*felf-ennobled  Marius  role 

From  private  worth,  and  fortune's  private  ways. 

From  deep  Arpinum's  rock-invefled  made, 
From  hardy  virtue's  emulative  fchool, 

His  daring  flight  th'  expanding  genius  made, 
And  by  obeying,  nobly  learn'cl  to  rule. 

Abafh'd,  confounded,  ftern  Iberia  groan'd, 
And  Afric  trembled  to  her  utmoft  coafts ; 

When  the  proud  land  its  deftin'd  conqueror  own'd 
In  the  new  conful,  and  his  veteran  hofls. 

Yet  chiefs  are  madmen,  and  ambition  weak, 
And  mean  the  joys  the  laurell'd  harvefts  yield, 

If  virtue  fail.  .Let  fame,  let  envy  fpeak 

Of  Capfa's  walls,  and  Sextia's  wat'ry  field. 

But  fink  for  ever,  in  oblivion  caft, 

Difhoneft  triumphs,  and  ignoble  fpoils. 

Minturnrc's  Marfh  feverely  paid  at  laft 
The  guilty  glories  gain'd  in  civil  broils. 

.  Nor  yet  his  vain  contempt  the  mufe  fhall  praife 

For  fcenes  of  polifh'd  life,  and  letter'd  worth  ; 
The  fteel-rib'd  warrior  wants  not  envy's  ways 
To  darken  theirs,  or  call  his  merits  forth : 

Witnefs  yon  Cimbrian  trophies  ! — Marius,  there 
Thy  ample  pinion  found  a  fpace  to  fly, 

As  the  plum'd  eagle  foaring  fails  in  air, 
In  upper  air,  and  fcorns  a  middle  fky. 

Thence,  too,  thy  cpuntry  claim'd  thee  for  her  own. 
And  bade  the  fculpt»r's  toil  thy  a<5b  adorn, 

To  teach  in  characters  of  living  flone 
Eternal  leflbns  to  the  youth  unborn. 

*  The  trophic:  of  Ufariuj,  now  erefJid  before 
Cafittl. 


E  t  E 

For  wifely  Rome  her  warlike  fons  rewards 
With  the  fweet  labours  of  her  artifts"  hands ; 

He  wakes  her  graces  who  her  empire  guards, 
And  both  Minervas  join  in  willing  bands. 

O  why,  Britannia,  why  untrophied  pafs 
The  patriot  deeds  thy  godlike  fons  difplay, 

Why  breathes  on  high  no  monumental  brals, 
Why  fwells  no  arc  to  grace  Culloden's  day  ? 

Wait  we  till  faithlefs  France  fubmifiive  bow 
Beneath  that  hero's  delegated  fpear, 

"Whofe  light'ning  fmote  rebellion's  haughty  brow, 
And  fcatter'd  her  vile  rout  with  horror  in  the 
rear  ? 

O  land  of  freedom,  land  of  arts,  affume 
That  graceful  dignity  thy  merits  claim; 

Exalt  thy  heroes  like  imperial  Rome, 
And  build  their  virtues  on  their  love  of  fame  ! 

ELEGY  V. 

To  a  Friend  Sick. 

WRITTEN  AT  ROME.    1756. 

•TWAS  in  this  *  ifle,  O  Wright  indulge  my  lay, 
Whofe  naval  form  divides  the  Tufcan  flood, 

In  the  bright  dawn  of  her  illuftrious  day 
Rome  fix'd  her  temple  to  the  healing  god  ! 

Here  flood  his  altars,  here  his  arm  he  bar'd, 
And  round  his  myftic  ftaff  the  ferpent  twin'd, 

Through  crowded  portals  hymns  of  praife  were 

heard, 
And  victims  bled,  and  facred  feers  divin'd. 

On  every  breathing  wall,  on  every  round 

Of  column,  fwelling  with  proportion'd  grace, 

Its  dated  feat  fome  votive  tablet  found, 
And  ftoried  wonders  dignified  the  place. 

O£t  from  the  balmy  bleflings  of  repofe, 

And  the  cool  ftillnefs  of  the  night's  deep  fhade, 

To  light  and  health  th,'  exulting  votarift  r«fe,  [aid. 
While  fancy  work'd  with  med'cine's  powerful 

Oft  in  his  dreams  (no  longer  clogg'd  with  fears 
Of  fome  broad  torrent,  or  fome  headlong  fleep, 

With  each  dire  form  imagination  wears, 
When  harafs'd  nature  finks  in  turbid  fieep), 

Oft  in  his  dreams  he  faw  diffufive  day 

Through   burfting  glooms  its  cheerful  beams 
extend, 

On  billowy  clouds  faw  fportive  genii  play, 
And  bright  Hygeia  from  her  heaven  defcend. 

What  marvel  then,  that  man's  o'erflowing  mind 
Should  wreath-bound  columns  raife,  and  altars 
fair, 

And  grateful  offerings  pay -to  powers  fo  kind, 
Though  fancy-form'd,  and  creaturtb  of  the  air  ? 

Who  that  has  writh'd  beneath  the  fcourge  of  pain, 
Or  felt  the  burden'd  languor  of  difeale, 

*    The  Inful-'.  Tiberir.a,  tvbe.re  llcre   arc  Jl'dl  fame 
fKStU  i;:K-:r..-  ff  ilf  fumijui  t?m£le  c 


G  I  E  S.  .933 

But  would  with  joy  the  flighteft  refpite  gain, 
And  idolize  the  hand  which  lent  him  eafe  ? 

To  thec,  my  friend,  unwillingly  10  thee,         '  '   •  ' 
For  truths  like  thefe  the  anxious  mule  appeals. 

Can  memory  anfwer  from  affliction  free, 
Or  fpeaks  the  fufferer  what,  I  fear,  he  feels  ? 

No,  let  me  hope  ere  this  in  Romely  grove 
Hygeia  revels  with  the  blooming  1'pring, 

Ere  this  the  vocal  feats  the  mufes  love 

With  hymns  of  praife,  like  P-aon's  temple,  ring. 

It  was  not  written  in  the  book  of  fate 

That,  wand'ring  far  from  Albion's  fea-girt  plain, 

Thy  diflant  friend  mould  mourn  thy  fhorter  date, 
And  tell  to  alien  woods  and  Itreams  his  pain. 

It  was  not  written.  Many  a  year  fhalj,  roll, 
If  aught  th'  infpiringmufe  aright  prefage, 

Of  blainelefs  intercourfe  from  foul  to  foul, 

And  friendfliip  well  matur'd  from  youth  to  age. 

ELEGY  VI. 

Ta  tbc  Rev.  Mr.  Sanderfon. 
WRITTEN  AT  ROME.    1756. 

BEHOLD,  my  friend,  to  this  fmall  *  orb  confin'd, 
The  genuine  features  of  Aurelius'  face  ; 

The  father,  friend,  and  lover  of  his  kind, 
Shrunk  to  a  narrow  coin's  contracted  fpace. 

Not  fo  his  fame  ;  for  erft  did  Heaven  ordain, 
While  feas  fhould  waft  us,  and  while  funs  ftiould 
warm, 

On  tongues  of  men  the  friend  of  man  fhould  reign, 
And  in  the  arts  he  lov'd  the  patron  charm. 

Oft  as  amidft  the  mould'ring  fpoils  of  age, 

His  mofs-grown  monuments  my  fteps  purfue  ; 

Oft  as  my  eye  revolves  th'  hifloric  page, 

Where  pafs  his  generous  adts  in  fair  review, 

imagination  grafps  at  mighty  things,  [fee  ; 

Which  men,  which  angels  might  with  rapture 
Then  turns  to  humbler  fcenes  its  fafer  wings, 
And,  blufh  not  while  f  fpeak  it,  thinks  on  thee. 

With  all  that  firm  benevolence  of  mind 

Which  pities  while  it  blames  th'  unfeeling  vain, 

With  all  that  active  zeal  to  ferve  mankind, 
That  tender  fuffering  for  another's  pain, 

Why  wert  not  thou  to  thrones  imperial  raised  ? 

Did  heedlefs  fortune  {lumber  at  thy  birth, 
Or  on  thy  virtues  with  indulgence  gaz'd, 

And  gave  her  grandeurs  to  her  ions  of  earth  ? 

rlappy  for  thee,  whofe  lefs  diftinguifli'd  fphere 

Now  cheers  in  private  the  delighted  eye, 

For  calm  content,  and  fmiling  eafe  are  there, 

And  Heaven's  diviueft  gilt,  fwe*et  liberty. 

lappy  for  me,  on  life's  ferener  flood 

Who  fail,  by  talents  as  by  choice  rellrain'd, 
Elfe  had  I  only  fhar'd  the  general  good, 

And  loft  the  friend  the  univerfe  had  gain'd^ 


Tbt  medal  of  Marcus 
7  Niij 


$34 


THE   WORKS-  OF    W.    WHITEHEAD. 


MISCELLANIES. 


VERSES 

TO  THE  PEOPLE  OF  ENGLAND. 

.  «— . '. ''  Mures  anitnos  in  martia  bella 

V  Verfibus  exacuit."— — —     ,  Hox.. 

BUTTONS,  roufe  to  deeds  of  death  ! — 
Wafte  no  zeal  in  idle  breath. 
Nor  lofe  the  harvelt  of  your  fwords 
In  a  civil  war  of  words ! 

Wherefore  teems  the  fliamelefs  prcfs 
With  iabour'd  births  of  emptinefs? 
Reas'nings,  which  no  fafts  produce, 
Eloquence,  that  murders  ufe ; 
111-tim'd  humour,  that  beguiles 
Weeping  idiots  of  their  fmiles  ; 
Wit,  that  knows  but  to  defame, 
And  fatire,  that  profanes  the  name. 

Let  th'  undaunted  Grecian  teach 
The  ufe  and  dignity  of  fpeech,         • 
At  whofe  thunders  nobly  thrown 
Shrunk  the  man  of  Macedon. 
If  the  ftorm  of  words  mult  rife, 
»  Let  it  blaft  our  enemies, 
bure  and  nervous  be  it  hurl'cl 
On  the  Philips  of  the  world. 
-.    Learn  not  vainly  to  defpife 
(Proud  of  Edward's  victories)  ! 
Warriors  wedg'd  in  firm  array, 
And  navies  powerful  to  difplay 
Their  woven  wings  to  every  wind, 
And  leave  the  panting  foe  behind, 
Cive  to  France  the  honours  due, 
Franc?  has  chiefs  and  ftatefmen  too. 
Breads  which  patriotrpafiions  feel,    . 
Lovers  of  the  common. weal. 
And  when  fuch  the  foes  we  brave, 
Whether  on  the  land  or  wave, 
Greater  is  the  pride  of  war, 
And  the  conqueit' nobler  far. 

Agincourt  and  CrefFy  long 
Have  flourifh'd  in  immortal  long; 
And  lifping  babes  afpire  to  praife 
The  wonders  of  Eliza's  days. 
And  what  elfe  oj"  late  renown 
Has  added  wreaths  to  Britain's  crown  ; 
"Whether  on  th'  impetuous  Rhine 
She  bade  her  harnefs'd  warriors  mine, 
Or  fnatch'd  the  dangerous  palm  of  praife 
"Where  the  Sambre  meets  the  Maefe ; 
Or  Danube  rolls  his  wat'ry  train  ; 
Or  the  'yellow- treffed  Mayno 
Through  Dettipgen's  immortal  vale — 
T.v'n  Fontenoy  could  tell  a  tale, 
Might  modeft  Worth  ingenuous  fpeak, 
To  raifs  a  blufli  on  victory's  cheek  j 


And  bid  thr  vanqnifh'd  wreaths  difpiay 
Great  as  on  Culloden's  day. 

But  glory  which  afpires  to  Jaft 
Learns1  not  meanly  OB  the  part. 
'Tis  the  prefent  now  demands 
Britifli  hearts,  and  Britilh  hands. 
Curftbe  he,  the  willing  flave, 
Who  doubts,  who  lingers  to  be  brave. 
Currt  be  the  coward  tongue  that  dare: 
Breathe  one  accent  -of  defpair, 
Cold  as  winter's  icy  hand 
To  chill  the  genius  of  the  land. 

Chiefly  you,  who  ride  the  deep 
And  bid  our  thunders  wake  or  fleep 
As  pity  pleadsvor  glory  calls-— 
Monarchs  of  our  wooden  wallr! 
Midft  your  mingling  feas  and  Ikies 
'K.ife  ye  Blakes,  ye  Raleighs  rife  1 
Let  the  fordid  lull  of  gain 
Be  banilh'd  from  the  liberal  main. 
He  who  ftrikes  the  generous  blow 

Aims  it  at  the  public  foe. 
Let  glory  be  the  guiding  ftar, 

Wealth  and  honours  follow  her. 
See  !  fhe  fpreads  her  luttre  wide 

O'er  the  vaft  Atlantic  tide  ! 

Conftant  as  the  folar  ray 

Points  the  path  and  leads  the  \vay-! 

Other  worlds  demand  your  care, 

Other  worlds  to  Britain  dear  ; 

Where  the  foe  insidious  roves 

O'er  headlong  ftreams,  and  pathlefs  groves  ; 

And  Juftice'  timpler  laws  confouuds 

With  imaginary  bounds. 
If  protected  commerce  keep 

Her  tenor  a'er  yon  heaving  deep, 

What  have  we  from  war  to  fear  ? 

Commerce  fleels  the  nerves  of  war; 

Heals  the  .havoc  rapine  makes. 

And  new  ftrength  from  conqueft  takes. 
Nor  lefs  at  home  O  deign  to  fmile> 

Goddefs  of  Britannia's  ifle  ! 

Thou,  that  from  her  rocks  furyey'fl 

Her  boundlefs  realms  the  wat'ry  wafte ; 

Tiieu,  that  rov'ft  the  hill  and  mead 

Where  her  flocks,  and  heifers  feed  ; 

ThoUj  that  cheer'll  th'  induftrious  fwain,- 

While  he  ftrows  the  pregnant  grain  ; 

Thou,  that  hear'ft  his  caroll'd  vows 

When  th*  expanded  barn  o'erflows; 

Thou,  the  bulwark  of  our  caufe, 

Thou,  the  guardian  of  our  laws, 

Sweet  liberty  ! — O  deign  to  fmile, 

Goddefs  of  Britannia's  ifle  ! 
If  to  us  indulgent  Heaven 

Nobler  feeds  of  ftrength  has  given, 
4 


MISCELLANIES. 


Nobler'  ftiould  the  produce  be  5 

Brave,  yet  gen'rous,  are  the  free. 

Come  then,  all  thy  powers  dirl'ule, 

GoJdefs  of  extended  views ! 

Every  breaft  which  feels  thy  flame 

Shall  kindle  into  martial  fame. 

Till  fliame  fliall  make  the  coward  bold, 

And  indolence  her  arms  unfold  : 

Ev'n  avarice  fliall  protect  his  hoard, 

And  the  plough-mare  gleam  a  fword.  , 

Goddefs,  all  thy  powers  diffufe  ! — 
And  thou,  genuine  Britifh  mufe, 
Nurs'd  amidft  the  druids  old 
"Where  Devi's  wizard  waters  roll'd, 
Thou  that  bear'ft  the  golden  key 
To  unlock  eternity, 

Summon  thy  poetic  guard 

Britain  ftill  has  many  a  bard, 
Whom,  when  time  and  death  fliall  join 
T*  expand  the  ore,  and  Itamp  the  coin, 
Late  potterity  fliall  own 
Lineal  to  the  mufe's  throne- 
Bid  them  leave  th'  inglorious  theme 
Of  fabled  (hade,  or  haunted  ftream. 
In  the  daify  painted  mead 
'Tis  to  peace  we  tune  the  reed  ; 
But  when  war's  tremendous  roar 
Shakes  the  ifle  from  fliore  to  fliore, 
Every  bard  of  purer  fire 
TrytJeus-like  fliould  grafp  the  lyre ; 
Wake  with  verfe  the  hardy  deed, 
Or  in  the  generous  ftrife  like  *  Sydney  bleed. 

A  CHARGE  TO  THE  POETS. 

Firjl  Printed,  1762. 
"  Qnafi  ex  Cathedra  loquitur."— 

FOLL  twenty  years  have  roll'd,  ye  rhiming  band, 
Since  firft  I  dipt  in  ink  my  trembling  hand, 
For  much  it  trembled,  though  th'  obliging  few, 
Who  judge  with  candour,  prais'd  the  f  (ketch  I 

drew  ; 

And  echo,  arifwering  from  the  public  voice, 
Indulg'd  as  genius,  what  I  fear'd  was  choice. 

At  length,  airiv'd  at  thofe  maturer  years 
So  rarely  rais'd  by  hope,  or  fur.k  by  fears, 
I  reft  in  peace  ;  or  frnbble  if  I  pleafe  : 
In  point  of  wealth  not  affluent,  but  at  eafe; 
(For  eafe  is  truly  theirs  who  dare  confine 
Their  willies  to  inch  moderate  views  as  mine) 
In  point  of  what  the  world  and  you  call  tame, 
(I  judge  but  by  conjecture)  much  the  fame. 

But  whether  right  or  wrong  I  judge,  to  you 
It  matters  not:  the  following  facl  is  true. 
From  nobler  names,  and  great  in  each  degree, 
The  penfion'd  laurel  has  devolv'd  to  me. 
To  me,  ye  bards ;  and,  what  you'll  fcarce  con. 

ceive, 
Or,  at  the  belt,  unwillingly  believe, 

*  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  mortally  wounded  in  an 
afiion  near  Zutplen,  in  Gelderland, 

f  "  The  danger  cf  writing  Verfe"  Firjl 
printed  in  the  year  1741;  to  which  this  foftn 
may  be  confidered  a:  ajeqiiel. 


Howe'er  unworthily  I  wear  the  crown, 
Unafk'd  it  came,  and  from  a  hand  unknow^j. 

Then,  fince  my  king  and  patron  have  thought 

fit 

To  place  me  on  the  throne  of  modern  wit. 
My  grave  advice,  my  brethren,  hear  at  large  ; 
As  bilhops  to  their  clergy  give  their  charge, 
Though  many  a  prieft,  who  lirlens,  might  afford 
Perhaps  more  folid  counfel  to  my  lord. 

To  you,  ye  guardians  of  the  facred  fount, 
Deans  and  archdeacons  of  the  double  mount, 
That  through  our  realms  inteftine  broils  may  ceafe, 
My  firft  and  laft  advice  is,  "  Keep  the  peace  !" 
What  is't  to  you,  that  half  the  town  admire 
Falfe  fenfe,  falfe  ftrength,  falfe  foftnefs,  or  falfe 

fire? 
Through  heav'n's  void  concave  let  the  meteors 

blaze, 

He  hurts  his  own,  who  wounds  another's  bays. 
What  is't  to  you  that  numbers  place  your  name 
Firft,  fifth,  or  twentieth,  in  the  lifts  of  fame  ? 
Old  time  will  fettle  all  your  claims  at  once. 
Record  the  genius,  and  forget  the  durce. 

It  boots  us  much  to  know,  obferversfay, 
Of  what  materials  nature  form'd  our  clay; 
From  what  Itrange  beaft  Prometheus'  platlic  art 
Purloin'd  the  particle  which  rules  the  heart. 
If  milky  foftnefs,  gliding  through  the  veins, 
Incline  the  mufe  to  panegyric  ftrains, 
Jnfipid  lays  our  kindeft  friends  may  lull, 
Be  very  moral,  yet  be  very  dull. 
If  bile  prevails,  and  temper  dictates  fatirc, 
Out  wit  is  fpleen,  our  virtue  is  ill-nature ; 
With  it's  own  malice  arm'd  we  combat  evil, 
As  zeal  for  God's  f;'ke  fometiires  plays  the  devil. 
O  mark  it  well  I  does  pride  affect  to  reign 
The  folitary  tyrant  of  the  brain  ? 
Or  vanity  exert  her  quick'ning  flame, 
Stuck  round  with  ears  that  liften  after  fame  ? 
O  to  thefe  points  let  ftricl  regard  be  given, 
Nor  *  "  Know  thyfelf "  in'vain  defcend  from  Lea* 
ven. 

Do  critics  teaze  you  ?— -  with  a  fmile  I  fpeak, 
Nor  would  fuppofe  my  brethren  were  fo  weak. 
'Tis  on  ourfelves,  and  not  our  foes,  or  friends> 
Our  future  fame,  or  infamy,  depends. 
Let  envy  point,  or  malice  wing  the  darts. 
They  only  wound  us  in  our  mortal  parts. 
Betides,  'tis  much  too  late  to  go  to  4'chool, 
Grown  men  will  judge  by  nature's  nobleft  rule, 
Admire  true  beauties,  and  flight  faults  excnfe, 
Not  learn  to  dance  from  \  journals  and  reviews. 

If  fools  traduce  you,  and  your  works  decry, 
As  many  foois  will  rate  your  worth  too  high  ; 
Then  balance  the  account,  and  fairly  take 
The  cool  report  which  men  of  judgment  make. 

In  writing,  as  in  life,  he  foils  the  foe, 
Who,  confcious  of  his  ftrength,  forgives  the  blow. 

*  "  E  ccelo  defcendit,'    yiufi  tixufii.     Juv. 

f  This  is  not  intended  as  a  rejlett;on  on  either 
the  Journals  or  Reviews.  '1  hey  are  not  iof 
rnafiers,  but  the  fcholars,  the  grown  gentlemen, 
at  whom  ibc  author ftniles  ;  and.  who,  heth/n^.,, 
had  much  tetter  not  pretend  to  judge  at  . 
than  borrow  opinions.  <wbicb  never  Jit  eafy  vfc.y 

2  N  iiii 


THE   WORKS    OF   W.  WHITEKEAD. 


They  court  the  infult  who  but  feem  afraid  s 
And  then,  by  anfwering,  you  promote  the  trade, 
And  give  them,  what  their  own  weak  claims 

deny, 
A  chance  tor  future  laughter,  or  a  figh. 

You,  who  as  yet,  unfullied  by  the  prefs, 
Hang  o'er  your  labours  in  their  virgin  drefs : 
And  you,  who  late  the  public  talte  have  hit, 
And  ftill  enjoy  the  hone-y-moon  of  wit, 
Attentive  hear  me  :  grace  may  ftifl  abound, 
Whoever  preaches,.if  the  doctrine's  found, 

If  nature  prompts  you,  or  if  friends  perfuade, 
Why  write  ;  but  ne'er  puilite  it  as  a  trade. 
And  feldom  publifli :  manufcripts  ditarm 
The  center's  frown,  and  boa  ft  an  added  charm, 
Enhance  their  worth  by  feeming  to  retire; ' 
For  what  but  few:  can  prate  of,  all  admire. 

Who  trade  in  v'erfe,  alas,  as  rarely  find, 
The  public  grateful,  as  the  mules  kind. 
From  conftant  feafts  like  fated  guefts  we  ftcal, 
And  tir'd  of  tickling  Idfe  all  power  to  feel. 
'Tis  novelty  we  want ;  with  that  in  view, 
We  praife  Hale  matter,  fo  the  bard  be  new  ; 
Or  from  known  bards  with  exftacy  receive 
Each  pert  new  whim  they  almoft  blufli  to  give. 

A  life  of  writing,  unlefs  wond'rous  fiiort, 
No  wit  can  brave,  no  genius  can  fuppyrt. 
Some  foberer  province  for  your  bulinefs  choofe, 
Be  that  your  helmet,  and  your  plu;ae  the  mufe. 
Through  Fame's  long  rubric,  down  from  Chau 
cer's  time, 

Few  fortunes  have  been  rais'd  by  lofty  rhyme. 
And,  when  our  toils  fuccefs  no  longer  crowns, 
What  flicker  find  we  from  a  world  in  frowns? 
O'er  each  diftrefs,  which  vice  or  felly  brings,  * 
Though  charity  extend  her  healirg  wings, 
No  maudlin  hofpitals  are  yet  affign'd 
For  flip-fhod  mufes  of  the  vagrant  kind  ;     ' 
Where  anthems  might  fucceed  to  fat  ires  keen,  * 
And  hymns  of  penitence  to  fongs  obfcene.      [grin 
••  What   refuge   then  "remains  !—  with    gracious 
Some  pradlis'd  bookfeller  invites  you  in.    •  [town, 
Where   lucklefs  bards,   condemn'd  to  court  the 
(Not  for  their  parents'  vices,  but  their  own)  ! 
"Write  gay  conundrums  with  an  aching  head, 
Or  earn  by  defamation  daily  bread, 
Or,  friendlefs,  fhirtlefs,  pcnnylefs,  complain, 
Not  of  the  world's,  but  '•*  Cxlia's  co4d  difdain." 

Lords  of  their  workhoufe  fee  the  tyrants  lit, 
Brekers  in  books,  and  flock-jobbers  in  wit. 
Beneath  whofe  lafh,  oblig'd  to  write  or  fall, 
Our  confeflbrs  and  martyrs  breathe  .their  laft  ! 

And  can  ye  bear  fuch  h.folence  ' — away, 
For  fhame  ;  plough,  dig,  turn  pedlars,  drive  the 

drny  ; 

With  minds  indignant  each  employment  fuits, 
Our  fleets  want  failors,  and  our  troops  recruits ; 
And  many  a  dirty  ftreet,  on  Thames's  fide,     . 
Is  yet  by  ftool  and  brufh  unoccupied.. 

Time  was  when  poets  pla>'d  the  thorough  game, 
Swore,  drank,  and  blufter'd,  and  blafphem'd  for 

fame. 

The  firft  in  brothels  with  their  punk  .and  mufe; 
Your  toaft,  ye  bards?  '!  ParnaiTus  and  the  ftews  !" 
Thntik  Heaven  the  times  are  chang'd;   no  poet 
i          now 
Need  roar  for  Bacchus,  or  to  Venus  bow. 


'Tis  our  own  fault  if  Fielding's  lafh  we  feel, 
Or,  like  French  wits,  begin  with  the  Eaflile. 

Ev'n  in  tiiofe  daysfome  few  efcap'd  their  fate, 
By  better  judgment,  or  a  lenger  date, 
And  rode,  like  buoys,  triumphant  o'er  the  tide. 
Poor  Otway  in  an  ale-houfe  dos'd,  and  died  ! 
While   happier  Southern,  though  with  fpots  of 

yore, 

Like  Plato's  hovering  fpirits,  crafted  o'er, 
Liv'd  every  mortal  vapour  to  remove, 
And  to  our  admiration  join'd  our  love. 

Light  lie  his  fumral  turf! — for  you,  who  join 
His  decent  manners  to  his  art  divine, 
Would  ye  (while,  round  you,  tofs  the  proud  and 

vain 

Convuls'd  with  feeling,  or  with  giving  pain) 
Indulge  the  mufe  in  innocence  and  eafe, 
And  tread  the  flowery  path  of  life  in  peace  ? 
Avoid  all  authors.— -What  '.  th*  iliuftrious  few, 
Who,  fliunning  fame,  have  taught  her  to  purfue, 
T1  air  virtue's  heralds  ? — yes,  1  fay  again, 
Avoid  all  authors,  tiH  you've  read  the  men. 
Full  many  a  peeviih,  envious,  fiandering  elf, 
Is,  in  his  work,  benevolence  itfelf. 
For  all  mankind  unknown,  his  botom  heaves, 
He  only  injures  thofe  with  whom  he  lives. 
Read  then  the  man  :  does  truth  his  actions  guide, 
Exempt  from  petulance,  exempt  from  pride  i 
To  focial  duties  does  his  heart  attend, 
As  fon,  as  father,  huiband,  brother,  friend? 
Do  thole  who  know  him  love  him  ?  if  they  do, 
You've  my  permiffion,  you  may  love  him  too,. 
But  chief  avoid  the  boift'rous  roaring  (parks, 
The  fons  of  fire  !— you'll  know  them  by  their 

marks. 

Fond  to  be  heard,  they  always  court  a  croud, 
And,  though  'tis  borrow'd  nonfeni'e,  talk  it  loud. 
One  epithetftipplies  their  conftant  chime, 
Damn'd   bad,    damn'd    good,    damn'd  low,  and 

damn'd  Hihlime  '. 

Bnt  rroft  in  quick. fiiort  repartee  they  fhine 
Of  local  humour;  or  from  plays  purloin 
Each  quaint  lisle  fcrap  which  every  fubje<fl  hits, 
Till  fcols  almoft  imagine,  they  are  wits. 
Hear  them  on  Shakfpeare  !  there  they  foam,  they 

rnge! 

Yet  tnfte  not  half  the  beauties  of  his  page, 
Nor  fee  that  art,  as  well  as  nature,  ftrove 
To  place  him  foremoft  in  th^  Aonian  grove. 
For  there,  there  only,  where  the  fitters  join, 
His  genius  triumphs,  and  the  works  divine. 

Or  would  ye  firt  more  near  thefe  fons  of  fire, 
'Tis  Garrick,  and  not  Shakfpeare,  they  admire. 
Without  his  breath,  infpiring  every  thought, 
They  ne'er  perhaps  had  known  what  Shakfpeare 

wrote ; 

Witheut  his  eager,  his  becoming  zeal, 
To  teach  them,  though  they  fcaice  know  why,  to 

feel,    • 

A  crude  unmeaning  mafs  had  Jonfon  been, 
And  a  dead  letter  Jjhakfpeare's  nobleft  fcene. 

O  come  the  time,  when  diffidence  again 
Shall  bind  our  youth  in  nature's  modeit  chain  ', 
Born  in  a  happier  age,  and  happier  clime, 
Old  Sophocles  had  merit,  in  his  time  ; 
And  fo,  no  doubt,  howe'er  we  flout  his  plays, 
Had  poor  Euripides,  in  fonder  days. 


MISCELLANIES. 


Not  like  the  moderns  we  confefs;  but  yet 
Some  feeming  faults  we  furely  might  forget, 
Becaufe  'twould  puzzle  even  the  wife  to  fhow 
Whether  thole  faults  were  real  faults,  or  no. 

To  all  true  merit  give  its  juft  applaufe, 
The  worft  have  beauties,  and  the  belt  have  flaws. 
Greek,  French,  Italian,  Englifli,  great  or  fmall, 
I  own  my  frailty,  I  admire  them  all. 

There  are,  miftaking  prejudice  for  tafte, 
Who  on  one  fpecies  all  their  rapture  wafte. 
Though,  various  as  the  flowers  which  paint  the 

year, 

In  rainbow  charms  the  changeful  nine  appear, 
The  different  beauties  coyly  they  admit, 
And  to  oue  ftandard  would  confine  our  .wit. 
Some  manner'd  verfe  delights ;  while  fome  can 

raife 

To  fairy  fiction  their  exftatic  gaze, 
Admire  pure  poetry,  and  revel  there 
On  fightlefs  forms,  and  pictures  of  the  air!      » 
Some  hate  all  rhymes;  ibme  ferioufly  deplore 
That  Milton  wants  that  one  enchantment  more. 
Tir'd  with  th'  ambiguous  tale,  or  antique  phrafe, 
O'er  Spenfer's  happieft  paintings,  loveiieft  lays, 
Some  heedlefs  pafs ;  while  fome  with  tranfport 

view 

Each  quaint  old  word,  which  fcarce  Eliza  knew  ; 
And,  eager  as  the  fancied  knights,  prepare 
The  lance,  and  combat  in  ideal  war 
Dragons  of  luft,  and  giants  of  defpair. 

Why  be  it  fo ;  and  what  each  thinks  the  teft 
Let  each  enjoy  :  but  not  condemn  the  reft. 
Readers  there  are  of  every  clafs  prepar'd  : 
Each  village  teems;  each  hamlet  has  its  bard, 
Who  gives  the  tone  ;  and  all  th'  inferior  fry, 
Like  the  great  vulgar  here,  will  join  theory. 
•  But  be  it  mine  with  every  bard  to  glow, 
And  tafte  his  raptures  genuine  as  they  flow, 
Through  all  the  mufes  wilds  to  rove  along 
From  plaintive  elegy  to  epic  fong  : 
And,  if  the  fenfexbe  juft,  the  numbers  clear, 
And  the  true  colouring  of  the  work  be  there, 
Again,  fubdued  by  truth's  ingenuous  call, 
I  own  my  frajlty,  I  admire  them  all. 

Nor  think  I,  with  the  mob,  that  nature  now 
No  longer  warms  the  foil  where  laurels  grow. 
'Tis  true,  our  poets  in  repofe  delight, 
And,  wiferthan  their  fathers,  feldom  write. 
Yet  I,  but  I  forbear  for  prudent'  ends, 
Could  name  a  lift,  and  half  of  them  my  friends, 
For  whom  pofterity  its  wreaths  ihall  twine, 
And  its  own  bards  neglect,  to  honour  mine. 

Their  poets  in  their  turn  will  grieve,  and  fwear, 
Perhaps  with  truth,  no  patron  lends  an  ear. 
Complaints  of  times  when  merit  wants  reward 
Defcend  like  fimilies  from  bard  to  bard  ; 
We  copy  our  diftrefs  from  Greece  and  Rome ; 
As  in  our  northern  lays  their  flowrets  bloom. 
We  feel  their  breezes,  with  their  heats  we  burn, 
And  plead  prefcription  to  rejoice  or  mourn. 

All  prefent  times  are  bad  :    then  caft  your 

eyes 

Where  fairy  fcenes  of  blifs  in  profpect  rife. 
As  fond  enthufiafls  o'er  the  weftsrn  main 
With  eager  ken  prophetical  in  vain, 
See  the  mix'd  multitudts  from  every  land 
Grow  pure  by  blending,  virtuous  by  command ; 


537 


Till  phoenix-like,  a  new  bright  work!  of  gold 
Springs  from  the  dregs  and  refufe  of  the  old. 

I'm  no  enthufiaft,  yet  with  joy  can  trace 
Some  gleams  of  funfliine  for  the  tuneful  race. 
If  monarchs  liften  when  the  mufes  woo, 
Attention  wakes,  and  nations  liften  too. 
The    bard    grows    rapturous,    who    was    dumb 

before, 
And  every  f'refh-plum'd  eagle  learns  to  foar  1 

Friend  of  the  finer  arts,  when  Egypt  faw 
Her  fecond  Ptolemy  give  fcience  law, 
Each  genius  waken'd  from  his  dead  repofe, 
The  column  fwell'd,  the  pile  majeftic  rofe, 
Exact  proportion  borrow'd  ftrength  from  eafc> 
And  uie  was  taught  by  elegance  to  pleafe. 
Along  the  breathing  walls,  as  fancy  flow'd, 
The  fculpture  foften'd,  and  the  picture  glow'd,' 
Heroes  reviv'd  in  animated  ftone, 
The  groves  grew  vocal,  and  the  *  Pleiads  (hone  ! 
Old  Nilus  rais'd  his  head,  and  wond'ring  cried, 
Long  live  the  king  '.  my  patron,  and  my  pride-! 
Secure  of  endlefs  praife,  behold,  I  bear 
My  grateful  fuffrage  to  my  fevereign's  ear. 
Though  war  mall  rage,  though  time  ihall  level 

all, 

Yon  colours  ficken,  and  yon  columns  fall, 
Though   art's  dear  treafures   feed   the    wafting 

Same, 

And  the  proud  volume  finks,  an  empty  name, 
Though  plenty  may  defert  this  copious  vale, 
My  ftreams  be  fcatter'd,  or  my  fountain  fail, 
Yet  Ptolemy  has  liv'd  :  the  world  has  known 
A  king  of  arts,  a  patron  on  a  throne. 
Ev'n  utmoft  Britain  fhall  his  name  adore, 

'*  And  Nile  be  fung,  when  Nile  mall  flow  no 

more  f" 

One  rule  remains.  Nor  fhun  nor  court  the  great, 
Your  trueft  centre  is  that  middle  ftate 
From  whence  with  eafe  th'  obferving  eye  may  go 
To  all  which  foars  above,  or  finks  below. 
'Tis  yours  all  manners  to  have  tried,  or  known, 
T'  adopt  all  virtues,  yet  retain  your  own : 
To  item  the  tide,  where  thoughtlcfs  crowds  are 

hurl'd. 
The  firm  fpectators  of  a  buftling  world ! 

Thus  arm'd,  proceed  ;  the  breezes  court  your 

wing. 

Go  range  all  Helicon,  tafte  every  fpring ; 
From  varying  nature  cull  th'  innoxious  fpoil, 
And,  while  amufement  fooths  the  generous  toil, 
Let  puzzled  critics  with  judicious  fpite 
Defcant  on  what  you  can,  or  cannot  write. 
True  to  yourfelves,  not  anxious  for  renown, 
Nor    court  the  world's  applaufe,  nor  dread  its 

frown. 
Guard  your  own  breafts,  and  be  the  bulwark 

there 

To  know  no  envy,  and  no  malice  fear. 
At  lead  you'll  find,  thus  ftoic-like  prepar'd, 
That  verfe  and  virtue  are  their  own  reward. 


*  Thefeven  poets  patronifedby  Ptolemy  Phi- 
ladelfhus,  are  ufually  called  by  the  name  of  that 
con/iellation. 

f  "  And  Boyne  be  fung,  when  it  has  ceas'd  to 
"  flow."  ADDISON. 


THE  WORKS   OF  W.    WHITEHEAD. 


VARIETY. 


A  TALE  FOR  MARRIED  PEOPLE. 

*  Nee  tecum  poflum  vivere,  ncc  fine  te." 

MAX. 

I  can't  live  with  you,  or  without  you. 

A  GENTLE  maid,  of  rural  breeding, 
By  nature  firft,  and  then  by  reading, 
Was  fill'd  with  all  tbofe  (oft  fenfations 
Which  we  reftrain  in  near  relations, 
Left  future  hnfbands  fliould  be  jealous, 
And  think  their  wives  too  fond  of  fellows. 

The  morning  fun  beheld  her  rove 
A  nymph,  or  goddefs  of  the  grovo  I 
At  eve  (he  pac'd  the  dewy  lawn, 
And  call'd  each  clown  fhe  faw,  a  faun  ! 
Then,  fcudding  homeward,  lock'd  her  door, 
And  turn'd  fome  copious  volume  o'er. 
For  much  (he  read  ;  and  chiefly  thofe 
Great  authors,  who  in  verfe,  or  profe, 
Or  fomething  betwixt  both,  unwind 
The  fecret  fprings  whifh  move  the  mind. 
Tbefe  much  flic  read ;  and  thought  fhe  knew 
The  human  heart's  minuted  clue  ; 
Yet  flirewd  obfervers  (till  declare, 
(To  fliow  how  flirewd  obfervers  are) 
Though  plays,  which  breath'd  heroic  flame, 
And  novels,  in  profusion,  came. 
Imported  frefh  and  frefh  from  France, 
She  only  read  the  heart's  romance. 

The  world,  no  doubt,  was  well  enough 
Tofmooth  the  manners  of  the  rough  ; 
Might  pleafe  the  giddy  and  the  vain,    ' 
Thofe  tinfeli'd  Haves  ot  folly's  train : 
But,  for  her  part,  the'trueft  taft« 
She  found  was  in  retirement  plac'd, 
Where,  as  in  verfe  it  fweetly  flows, 
•*  On  every  thorn  instruction  grows.*' 

Not  that  (he  wifti'd  to  "  be  alone," 
As  fome  affedled  prudes  have  done  ; 
She  knew  it  was  decreed  on  high 
We  (hould  "  increafe  and  multiply  ;" 
And  therefore,  if  kind  fate  would  grant 
Her  fondeft  wifh,  her  only  want, 
A  cottage  with  the  man  fhe  lov'd 
Was  what  her  gentle  heart  approv'd  ; 
In  fome  delightful  folitude 
Where  ftep  profane  might  ne'er  intrude; 
But  Hymen  guard  the  facred  ground, 
And  virtuous  Cupids  hover  round. 
Not  fuch  as  flutter  on  a  fan 
Round  Crete's  vile  bull,  or  Leda's  fwan, 
(Who  fcatter  myrtles,  icatter  rotes, 
And  hold  their  fingers  to  their  nofes). 
But  fimp'ring,  mild,  and  innocent 
As  angels  on  a  monument. 

Fate  heard  her  pray'r  :  a  lover  came, 
Who  felt,  like  her,  th'  innoxious  flame  ; 
One  who  had  trod,  as  well  as  (he, 
The  flow'ry  paths  of  poefy  ; 
Had  war-m'd  himfelf  with  Milton's  heat, 
Could  ev'ry  line  of  Pope  repeat, 
Or  rhaunt  in  Shenftone's  tender  drains, 
"  The  Cover's  hopes,**  "  the  lover's  pairs," 


Attentive  to  the  charmer's  tongue, 
With  him  fhe  thought  no  ev'ning  long; 
With  him  fhe  faunter'd  half  the  day; 
And  fometimes,  in  a  laughing  way, 
Ran  o'er  the  catalogue  by  rote 
Of  who  might  marry,  and  who  not. 
Confider,  Sir,  we're  near  relations— 
"  I  hjbpe  foin  cur  inclinations." — 
In  fhort,  (helook'd,  (he  bluth'd  confent; 
He  grafp'd  her  hand,  to  church  they  went ; 
And  ev'ry  matron  that  was  there, 

With  tongue  fo  voluble  and  nipple, 
Said,  for  her  part,  fhe  mud  declare, 

She  never  faw  a  finer  couple. 
O  Halcyon  days !  'twas  nature's  reign,, 
'Twas  Tempe's  vale,  and  Enna's  plain. 
The  fields  allum'd  unufual  bloom. 
And  ev'ry  zephyr  breath'd  perfume. 
The  laughing  fun  with  genial  beams 
Danc'd  lightly  on  th'  exulting  dreams; 
And  the  pale  regent  of  the  night, 
In  dewy  foftnefs  (lied  delight. 
'Twas  tranfport  not  to  be  expreft ; 
'Twas  paradife  ! — But  mark  the  reft. 

Two  fouling  fprings  had  wak'd  the  flow'rs 
That  paint  the  meads,  or  fringe  the  bow'rs; 
(Ye  lovers,  lend  your  wond'ring  ears, 
Who  count  by  months,  and  not  by  years) 
Two  fmiling  fprings  had  chaplets  wove 
To  crown  their  folitude,  and  love  : 
When  lo,  they  find,  they  can't  tell  how, 
Their  walks  are  not  fo  pleafant  now. 
The  feafons  fure  were  chang'd  ;  the  place 
Had,  fome  how,  got  a  diff'rent  face. 
Some  blad  had  ftruck  the  cheerful  fcene; 
The  lawns,  the  woods  were  not  fo  green. 
The  purling  rill,  ivbich  murmur'd  by, 
And  once  was  liquid  harmony, 
Became  a  fluggifh,  reedy  pool : 
The  days  grew  hot,  the  ev'nings  cool. 
The  moon  with  all  the  ftarry  reign 
Were  melancholy's  filent  train. 
And  then  the  tedious  winter  night — 
They  could  not 'read  by  candle-li^ht. 

Full  oft,  unknowing  why  they  did, 
They  call'd  in  adventitious  aid. 
A  faithful  fav'rite  dog  ('twas  thus 
With  Tobit,  and  Teiemachus) 
Amus'd  their  deps  ;  and  for  a  while 
They  view'd  his  gambols  with  a  fmile. 
The  kitten  too  was  comical, 
She  play'd  fo  oddly  with  her  tail. 
Or  in  the  glafs  was  pleas'd  to  find 
Another  cat,  and  peep'd  behind. 

A  courteous  neighbour  at  the  door 
Was  deem'd  intrufive  noife  no  more. 
For  rural  vifits,  now  and  then, 
Are  right,  as  men  mud  live  with  men, 
Then  coulin  Jenny,  frefh  from  town, 

A  new  recruit,  a  dear  delight ! 
Made  many  a  heavy  hour  go  down, 

At  morn,  at  noon,  at  eve,  at  night : 
Sure  they  could  hear  her  jokes  for  ever, 
She  was  fo^prightly,  and  fo  clever  ! 

Yet  neighbours  were  not  quite  the  thing; 
What  joy,  alas !  could  converfe. bring 
With  awkward  creatures  bred  at  home— 
The  dog  grew  dull,  or  troublefome. 


MISCELLANIES. 


939 


The  cat  had  fpoil'd  the  kitten's  merit. 

And   with  her  yonth,  had  loft  her  fpirit. 

And  jokes  repeated  o'er  and  o'er, 

Had  quite  exhaufted  Jenny's  (lore. 

— "  And  then,  my  dear,  I  can't  abide 

*'  This  always  faunt'ring  fide  by  fide."— 

Enough,  he  cries  1  the  reafon's  plain  : 

For  caufes  never  rack  your  brain. 

Our  neighbours  are  like  other  folks, 

Skip's  playful  tricks,  and  Jenny's  jokes 

Are  (till  delightful,  (till  would  pleafe 

Were  we,  my  dear,  ourfelves  at  eafe. 

Look  round,  with  an  impartial  eye, 

On  yonder  fields,  on  yonder  Iky; 

The  azure  cope,  the  now'rs  below, 

With  all  their  wonted  colours  glow. 

The  rill  (till  murmurs;  and  the  moon 

Shines,  as  (he  did,  a  fofterfun. 

No  change  has  made  the  fealbns  fail, 

No  comet  brufli'd  us  with  his  tail. 

The  fcene's  the  fame,  the  fame  the  weather— 

We  live,  my  dear,  too  much  together. 

Agreed.     A  rich  old  uncle  dies, 
And  added  wealth  the  means  fupplies. 
With  eager  hafte  to  town  they  flew,   x 
Where  all  muft  pleafe,  for  all  was  new. 

But  here,  by  (tricl  poetic  laws 
Defcription  claims  its  proper  paufe. 

The  rofy  morn  had  rais'd  her  head 
From  old  Tithonus'  faffron  bed ; 
And  embryo  funbeams  from  the  eaft, 
Half  chok'd,  were  ftruggling  through  the  mill, 
When  forth  advanc'd  the  gilded  chaife, 
The  village  crowded  round  te  gaze. 
The  pert  poftillion,  now  promoted 
From  driving  plough,  and  neatly  booted, 
Kis  jacket,  cap,  and  baldric  on, 
(As  greater  folks  than  he  have  done) 
Look'd  round  ;  and  with  a  coxcomb  air, 
Smack'd  loud  his  lafh.     The  happy  pair 
Bow'd  graceful,  from  a  fep'rate  door,    , 
And  Jenny,  from  the  ftool  before. 

Roll  fwift,  ye  wheels !  to  willing  eyes 
New  objects  ev'ry  moment  rife. 
Each  carriage  palfing  on  the  road, 
From  the  broad  waggon's  pond'rous  load- 
To  the  light  car,  where  mounted  high 
The  giddy  driver  feemsto  fly, 
Were  themes  for  harmlefs  fatire  fit. 
And  gave  frefh  force  to  Jenny's  wit. 
Whate'er  occurr'd,  'twas  all  delightful, 
No  noife  was  harfli,  no  danger  frightful. 
The  dafli  and  fplafh  through  thick  and  thin, 
The  hair-breadth  'fcapes,  the  buftling  inn, 
(Where  well-bred  landlbrds  were  fo  ready 
To  welcome  in  the  'fquire  and  lady). 
Dirt,  duft,  and  fun.  they  bore  with  eafe, 
Determin'd  to  be  pleas'd,  and  pjeafe. 

Now  nearer  town  and  all  agog 
They  knpw  dear  London  by  its  fog. 
Bridges  they  crofs,  through  lanes  they  wind, 
Leave  Hounflow's  dang'rous  heath  behind, 
Through  Brentford  win  a  paflage  free 
By  roaring,  Wilkes  and  liberty  ! 
At  Knightlbridge  blefs  the  fliort'ning  way, 
(Where  Bay's  troops  in  ambufli  lay) 
O'er  Piccadilly's  pavement  glide, 
£Wi»h  palaces  to  grace  its  fiJe) 


Till  Bond-ftreet  with  its  lamps  a-blazc 
Concludes  the  journey  of  three  days. 

Why  mould  we  paint,  in  tedious  fong, 
low  ev'ry  day,  and  all  day  long. 
They  drove  at  firft  with  curious  hafte 
Through  Lud's  vaft  town  ;  or,  as  they  pafs'd 
Midft  rifings,  fallings,  and  repairs 
3f  ftreets  on  (treets,  and  fquares  on  fquares, 
)efcribe  how  ftrong  their  wonder  grew 
At  buildings— and  at  builders  too. 

Scarce  lefs  aftonifliment  arofe 
At  architects  more  fair  than  thofe— 
Who  built  as  high,  as  widely  fpread 
Th'  enormous  loads  that  cioath'd  their  head* 
for  Britifh  dames  new  follies  love, 
And  if  they  can't  invent,  improve. 
Some  withered:  pagodas  vie, 
Some  nod,  like  Pifa's  tow'r,  awry, 
Vledufa's  fnakes,  with  Pallas'  crelr, 
Sonvolv'd,  contorted,  and  comprefs'd; 
With  intermingling  trees,  and  flow'rs, 
And  corn  and  grafs,  and  fliepherds'  bow'ri, 
Stage  above  ftage  the  turrets  run, 
Like  pendant  groves  of  Babylon, 
'Till  nodding  from  the  topmoft  wall 
Otranto's  plumes  envelope  all! 
While  the  black  ewes,  who  own'd  the  hair, 
Feed  harmlefs  on,  in  paftures  fair, 
Unconfcious  that  their  tails  perfume, 
In  fcented  curls,  the  drawing-room. 

When  night  her  murky  pinions  fpread, 
And  fober  folks  retire  to  bed, 
To  ev'ry  public  place  they  flew, 
Where  Jenny  told  them  who  was  who. 
Money  was  always  at  command, 
And  tripp'd  with  pleafure  hand  in  hand. 
Money  was  equipage,  was  fliow, 
Gallini's  Almack's,  and  Soho; 
Thepa/e  par  tout  through  ev'ry  vein 
Of  diflipation's  hydra  reign. 

0  London,  thou  prolific  fource, 
Parent  of  vice,  and  folly's  nurfe  ; 
Fruitful  as  Nile  thy  copious  fpring* 
Spawn  hourly  births, — and  all  with  flings; 
But  happieft  far  the  he,  or  (he, 

1  know  riot  which,  that  livelier  dunce 
Who  firft  contriv'd  the  coterie, 

To  crufli  domeftic  blifs  at  once- 
Then  grinn'd  no  doubt,  amidft  the  dames, 
As  Nero  fiddled  to  the  flames. 

Of  thee.  Pantheon,  let  me  fpeak 
With  rev'rence,  though  in  numbers  weak  j 
Thy  beauties  fatire's  frown  beguile, 
We  fpare  the  follies  for  the  pile. 
Flounc'd,  furbelow'd,  and  trick'd  for  Ihow, 
With  lamps  above,  and  lamps  below, 
Thy  charms  even  modern  tafte  defy'd, 
They  could  not  fpoil  thee,  though  they  try'd* 

Ah,  pity  that  time's  hafty  wings 
Muft  (weep  thee  off  with  vulgar  things! 
Let  architects  of  humbler  name 
On  frail  materials  build  their  fame, 
Their  nobleft  works  the  world  might  want, 
Wyat  mould  build  in  Adamant. 

But  what  are  thefe  to  fcenes  which  lie 
Secreted  from  the  vulgar  eye, 
And  baffle  all  the  pow'rs  of  fong?— • 
A  brazen  throat,  an  iron  tongue, 


THE    WORKS   OF      W.   WHITEHEAD. 


(Which  poets  wifli  for,  when  at  length 
Their  fubjecl  foars  above  their  ftrength) 
Would  fliun  the  ta(k.     Our  humbler  mufc, 
(Who  only  reads  the  public  news, 
And  idly  utters  what  fhe  gleans 
From  chronicles  and  magazines) 
Recoiling  feels  her  feeble  fires, 
And  blulhing  to  her  (hades  retires. 
Alas  I  flic  knows  not  how  to  treat 
The  finer  follies  of  the  great, 
Where  ev'n,  Democritus,  thy  fneer 
Were  vain  as  Heraclitus*  tear. 

Suffice  it  that  by  juft  degrees 
They  reach'd  all  heights,  and  rofe  with  eafe  ; 
(For  beauty  wins  its  way,  uncalPd, 
And  ready  dupes  are  ne'er  black-ball'd). 
Each  gambling  dame  fhe  knew,  and  he 
Knew  ev'ry  fhark  of  quality; 
From  the  grave,  cautious  few,  who  live 
On  thoughtlefs  youth,  and  living  thrive, 
To  the  light  train  who  mimic  France, 
And  the  loft  fons  of  Nonchalance. 
While  Jenny,  now  no  more  of  ufe, 
Excufe  fucceeding  to  excufe, 
Grew  piqued,  and  prudently  withdrew 
To  milling  whift,  and  chicken  lu. 

Advanc'd  to  fafhion's  wav'ring  head, 
They  now,  where  once  they  follow'd,  led. 
J)evis*d  new  fyftems  of  delight, 
A-bed  all  day,  and  up  all  night, 
In  diff'rent  circles  reign'd  fupreme. 
Wives  copied  her,  and  hufbands  him ; 
Till  fo  divinely  life  ran  on, 
So  feparate,  fo  quite  ion-ton, 
That  meeting  in  a  public  place. 
They  fcarcely  knew  each  other's  face. 

At  lad  they  met,  by  hisdeiire, 
A-tctc-*-tete  acrofs  the  fire ; 
Look'd  in  each  other's  face  a-while, 
With  half  a  tear,  and  half  a  fmife. 
The  ruddy  health,  which  wont  to  grace 
With  manly  glow  his  rural  face, 
Now  fcarce  retain 'd  its  fainted  ftreak ; 
So  fallow  was  his  leathern  cheek, 
She  lank,  and  pale,  and  hollow-ey'd, 
With  rouge  had  ftriven  in  vain  to  hide 
What  once  was  beauty,  and  repair 
The  rapine  of  the  midnight  air. 

Silence  is  eloquence,  'tis  faid. 
Both  wifli'd  to  fpeak,  both  hung  the  head. 

At  length  it  burft. "  Tis  time,"  he  cries, 

"  When  tir'd  of  folly,  to  be  wife. 

*'  Are  you  too  tir'd  ?" — then  check'd  a  "groan. 

She  wept  conient,  and  he  went  on. 

"  How  delicate  the  married  life  ! 
"  You  love  your  hufband,  I  my  wife. 
*'  Not  ev'n  fatiety  could  tame, 
**  Nor  diftlpation  quench  the  flame. 

"  True  to  the  bias  of  our  kind 
M  'Tis  happinefs  we  wifli  to  find, 
"  In  rural  fcenes  retir'd  we  fought 
«'  In  vain  the  dear,  delicious  draught. 
"  Though  bleft  with  love's  indulgent  ftore, 
"  We  found  we  wanted  fomething  more. 
•'  'Twas  company,  'twas  friends  to  fliare 
•'  The  blifs  we  languilh'd  to  declare. 
««  'Tvras  focial  converfe,  change  of  fcene, 
«<  To  foothe  the;  fullerUiour  of  fyleen?  __ 


"  Short  abfences  to  wake  defire, 
"  And  fweet  regrets  to  fan  the  fire. 

"  We  left  the  lonefome  place ;  and  found, 
"  In  difiipation's  giddy  round, 
"  A  thoufand  novelties  to  wake 
"  The  fprings  of  life  and  not  to  Break. 
"  As,  from  the  neft  not  wand'ring  far,    • 

In  light  excurfions  through  the  air, 

The  feather'd  tenants  of  the  grove 

Around  in  mazy  circles  move, 

(Sip  the  cool  fprings  that  murm'ring  flow, 

Or  tafte  the  bloffom  on  the  bough). 

We  fported  freely  with  the  reft ; 

And,  ftill  returning  to  the  neft, 

In  eal'y  mirth  we  chatter'd  o'er 

The  trifles  of  the  day  before. 

"  Behold  us  now,  diflblving  quite 

In  the  full  ocean  of  delight ; 

In  pleafures  ev'ry  hour  employ, 

Immers'd  in  all  the  world  calls  joy. 

Our  affluence  eafirig  the  expence 

Of  fplendour,  and  magnificence. 

Our  company,  th'  exalted  fe.t 

Of  all  that's  gay,  and  all  that's  great: 

Nor  happy  yet !— and  where's  the  wonder !— ^ 

We  live,  my  dear,  too  much  afunder." 

The  moral  of  my  tale  is  this, 
Variety's  the  foul  of  blifs. 
But  fuch  variety  alone 
As  makes  our  home  the  more  our  own. 
As  from  the  heart's  impelling  pow'r 
The  life-blood  pours  its  genial  ftore  ; 
Though  taking  each  a  various  way, 
The  active  ftreams  meand'ring  play 
Through  ev'ry  artery,  ev'ry  vein, 
All  to  the  heart  return  again ; 
From  thence  refume  their  new  career. 
But  ftiil  return,  and  centre  there : 
So  real  happinefs  below 
Muft  from  the  heart  fincerely  flow; 
Nor,  lift'ning  to  the  Syrer.'s  fong, 
Mult  ftray  too  far,  or  reft  too  long. 
All  human  pleafures  thither  tend  ; 
Muft  there  begin,  and  there  muftend  ; 
Muft  there  recruit  their  languid  force, 
And  gain  frefh  vigour  from  their  fource. 

THE  GOAT'S  BEARD.* 

A    FABLE. 

"  Propria  quae  maribus— 

"  Foemineo  generi  tribuuntur." 

LILLY'S  GRAM. 

LTB.  IV.  FAB.  14. 
Capella  et  Hirci. 

BAR  BAM  Capellas  quuro  impetriflent  ab  Jove, 
Hirci  mcerentes  indignari  cceperant, 

*  Vie  purport  of  the  above  Fable  is  this.  When 
the  She-goats  bad,  by  their  intrcaties,  obtained  of 
Jupiter  the  privilege  of  having  beards  as  well  as 
the  males,  the  He-goats  grew  angry ;  and  com 
plained,  that  he  had  degraded  thtir  dignity  by  ad 
mitting  the  female's  to  equal  honours  iviih  them- 
f elves. 

To  iv'.n'ch  the  god  replied,  That  if  they  ii'ouli 
take  cat  to  freferve  the  reul  and  eJJ'mtial  ad- 


MISCELLANIES. 


QuoJ  dignitatem  fceminie  aequaflent  fuam  ; 
"  Sinite,  inquit,  illis  gloria  vana  r'rui, 
"  Et  uiurpare  veftri  ornatum  muneris  : 
"  Pares  dum  non  (int  veftrae  fortitudini." 

Hoc  argumentum  monet  ut  fuftineas  tibi 
Habitu  efle  fimiles,  qui  (int  virtute  impares. 

IN  eight  terfe  lines  has  Phaedrus  told 

(So  frugal  were  the  bards  of  old) 

A  tale  of  goats  ;  and  clos'd  with  grace 

Plan,  moral,  all,  in  that  fliort  (pace. 

Alas,  that  ancient  moralilt 

Knew  nothing  of  the  (lender  twift 

Which  Italy,  and  France,  have  taught 

To  later  times  to  fpin  the  thought. 

They  are  our  matters  now,  and  we 

Obfequious  to  their  high  decree, 

Whate'er  the  claflic  critics  fay, 

Will  tell  it  in  a  modern  way. 

'Twas  fomewhere  on  the  hills,  which  lie 

'Twixt  Rome  and  Naples'  fofter  clime, 
(They  can't  efcape  the  traveller's  eye, 

Nor  need  their  names  be  told  in  rhyme) 
A  herd  of  goats,  each  ihining  morn, 
'Midft  fcraggy  myrtle,  pointed  thorn, 
Quick  glancing  to  the  fun  difplay'd 
Their  fpotted  fides,  and  pierc'd  the  (hade. 
Their  goat-herds  ftill,  like  thofe  of  old, 
Pipe  to  the  ftragglers  of  the  fold. 

'Twas  there — and  there  (no  matter  when) 
With  Virgil's  leave,  we  place  the  fcene. 
For  fcarcely  can  we  think  his  fwains 
Dealt  much  in  goats  on  Mantua's  plains ; 
Much  lefs  could  e'er  his  (hcpherds  dream 
Of  pendant  rock*  oa  Mincio's  ftream. 
From  Naples  his  enliven'd  thought 
Its  fondeft,  belt  ideas  caught, 
Theocritus  perhaps  befide 
Some  kind  embellifhments  fupply'd, 
And  poets  are  not  common  men— 
Who  talks  of  goats  in  Ely  fen  I 

'Twas  there,  on  one  important  day, 
It  chanc'd  the  he-goats  were  away, 
The  ladies  of  the  colony 
Had  form'd  a  female  coterie  ; 
And,  as  they  browz'd  the  cliffs  among, 
Exerted  all  their  power  of  tongue. 
Of  eafe  and  freedom  much  they  fpoke, 
Eufranchis'd  from  the  hufband's  yoke  ; 
How  bright  the  fun,  how  foft  the  air, 
The  trefoil  flowers  were  fweeter  far, 
While  thus'alone  theyvmight  debate 
The  hardihips  of  the  married  ftate. 

Encourag'd  by  the  quick'ning  flame 
Which  fpread,  and  caught  from  dame  to  dame, 
A  matron,  fager  than  the  reft, 
The  fair  enthufiafts  thus  addrefs'd  : 
"  Ladies,  I  joy  to  fee,  what  I 
'  Have  felt,  and  fmotfeer'd  with  a  figh, 
'  Should  touch  at  length  the  general  breaft, 
1  And  honeft  nature  ftand  confeih 
'  Qoeens  as  we  are,  we  fee  our  power 
4  Ufurp'd,  and  daily  finking  lower. 

•vantages  which  their  fcx  gatie  them  over  the 
other,  they  would  have  no  reafon  to  be  diffdtis- 
fied  iuitb  lttti?ig  them  f.irtict^  ate  in,  what  vjat 
merely  ornamental. 


"  Why  do  our  lords  and  mafters  reign 
"  Sole  monarchs  o'er  their  fubjecr.  train  ? 
"  What  ftamp  has  nature  given  their  line, 
"  What  mark  to  prove  their  right  divine 
"  To  lead  at  will  the  paffive  herd  ? 
"  —It  can  be  nothing  but  their  beard. 

"  Obferve  our  ihapes,  our  winning  airs, 
"  Ourfpots  more  elegant  than  theirs; 
"  With  equal  eafe,  with  equal  fpeed 
"  We  fwim  the  brook,  or  Ikim  the  mead ; 
"  Climb  the  tall  cliff,  where  wild  thyme  grows, 
"  On  pinnacles  undaunted  browze, 
"  Hang  fearlefs  o'er  th'  impetuous  ftream, 
"  And  fkip  from  crag  to  crag  like  them. 
"  Why  are  they  then  to  us  prefcrr'd  ? 
"  — It  can  be  nothing  but  their  beard. 

V  Then  let  us  to  great  Jove  prepare 
".  A  facrifice  and  folemn  prayer, 
"  That  he  would  gracioufly  relieve 
"  Our  deep  diftrefs,  and  kindly  give 
"  The  all  we  want  to  make  us  fhine 
"  Joint  empreffes  by  right  divine." 

A  general  murmur  of  applaufe 
Attends  the  fpeech.     The  common  caufc 
Glows  in  each  breaft,  and  all  defy 
The  bonds  of  Salique  tyranny. 
The  mild,  the  timorous  grow  bold ; 
And  as  they  faunter  to  the  fold, 
Ev'n  kids,  with  voices  fcarcely  heard, 
Lifp  out — "  'Tis  nothing  but  the  beard." 

Agreed.  And  now  with  fecret  care 
The  due  luftrations  they  prepare ; 
And  having  mark'd  a  facred  field, 
Of  horns  a  fpacious  altar  build; 
Then  from  the  fragrant  herbs  that  grow 
On  craggy  cliff,  or  mountain's  brow, 
They  cull  the  fweets  :  and  (tuff  the  pile 
With  *  tragopogon's  downy  fpoil, 
And  gums  of  f  tragacanth  to  raife 
The  bickering  flame,  and  fpeed  the  blaze- 
But  chief  the  flower  beyond  compare, 
The  flaunting  |  woedbine  revell'd  there, 
Sacred  to  goats  ;  and  bore  their  name, 
Till  botanifts  of  modern  fame 
New-fangled  titles  chofe  to  give 
To  almoft  all  the  plants  that  live. 
Of  thefe  a  hallow'd  heap  they  place 
With  all  the  (kill  of  female  grace  ; 
Then  fpread  the  fprigs  to  catch  the  air, 
And  light  them  with  the  brufhy  hair 
Pluck'd  flily  from  their  hulbands'  chins, 
In  feeming  fport,  when  love  begins. 

"  Hear,  father  Jove,  if  ftill  thy  mind 
"  With  partial  fondnefs  views  our  kind  ; 
"  If  nurs'd  by  goats,  as  ftory  fays, 
"  Thou  ftill  retaiu'ft  their  gamefome  ways; 
"  If  on  |j  thy  fhield  her  flcin  appears, 
"  Who  ted  with  milk  thy  infant  years ; 
"  If  Capricorn  advanc'd  by  thee, 
"  Shines  in  the  fphere  a  deity,  &c.  &c. 

*  A 'plant  called  in  £ngl(ft  the  goat's  beard. 

•J-  The  goat's  thorn.  The  gums  of  this  plant  are  tife4 
in  medicine. 

t  Tbii  caprifolii>m,  or  goat's  leaf  of  the  ancients  ami 
of  Touriiffort.  Linnaeus  ranks  it  under  tie  genus  of  /o,- 
nicera,  as  he  does  the  irsgacaritb  under  that  uf ajlragalus. 

||  The  tegis,  ea!lc4jvfr9m  the  gout's fkin  ?i'bi(L  «•> 
vert  itt 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.  W  H  I T  E  H  E  A  ». 


"  Hear,  father  Jove,  our  juft  requeft; 
"  O  grant  us  beards,  and  make  us  bleft  ?'* 

Swift  mounts  the  blaze,  the  f'centcd  fky 
Seems  pleas'd,  the  zephyrs  gently  ligh, 
.And  Jove  himfelf,  in  fro'.k  mood, 
Reclining  on  an  amber  cloud, 
Snuff 'd  in  the  gale  ;  and  though  he  hides 
A  laugh  which  almofb  burits  his  fides, 
Smil'tl  gracious  on  the  iuppliant  crew ; 
And  from  the  left  his  thunder  flew  : 
Bifftt  omen  of  fuccefs !  Ye  fair, 
"Who  know  what  tyrant  fpoufes  are, 
If  e'er  you  fliptthe  tighten'd  rein, 
Or  gave  a  furly  hufband  pain, 
Gucfs  at  their  joy. — Devoutly  low 
They  bent,  and  with  prophetic  glow 
They  wreath'd  their  necks,  they  cock'd  their  tails, 
"With  fkittifh  coynefs  met  the  males, 
And  fcarce  admitted  the  embrace, 
But  merely  to  preferve  the  race. 

But  chief  the  river  banks  they  throng1; 
Narciffus-like  o'er  fountains  hung, 
And  not  a  puddle  could  they  pais 
"Without  a  fquint  to  view  their  face, 
Happy  to  fee  the  fprouts  arife, 
Which  promis'd  future  dignities. 

When  lo !   their  utmoft  wifh  prevails. 
,jA  beard,  as  graceful  as  the  male's, 
Flows  from  their  chins ;  and  forth  they  mov'd, 
At  once  to  be  rever'd  and  lov'd  ; 
Looking  (to  borrow  a  quaint  phrafe 
From  Young,  to  deck  our  humbler  lays), 
«  Delightfully  with  all  their  might," 
The  he-goats  ftarted  at  the  fight. 
"  Angels  and  minifters  of  grace  !" 
Appear' d  on  theirs,  like  *  Garrick's  face. 
Glance  after  glance  obliqtie  they  fent, 
Then  fix'd  in  dumb  afloniihment. 
Scarce  more  amaz'd  did  f  Atlas  ftand, 
Cole  monarch  of  th'  Hefperian  flrand, 
>A'hen  Perfeus  on  his  fhield  difplay'd 
Terrific  charms,  the  Gorgon's  head. 

At  laft  recovering  their  furprife, 
For  goats,  like  men,  are  fometimes  wife, 
On  this  abfurd,  new-modell'd  plan, 
J/ike  human  couples  they  began, 
Unwilling,  for  decorum's  fake, 
Quite  to  unite,  or  quite  to  break. 
\Vith  fhort  halfwords,  and  loolw  that  leer'd, 
They  frown'd.they  pouted,  and  thcyfneer'd. 
In  general  terms  exprefs'd  their  thoughts 
On  private  and  peculiar  faults ; 
Dropp'd  hints  they  fcarcely  wifli'd  to  fmother, 
And  talk'd  not  to,  but  at  each  other. 
Till  ilrife  engend'ring  more  and  more, 
They  downright  wrangled,  if  not  fwore; 
And  ev'n  the  fair  could  fcarce  refrain 

From  broad  expreffions,  when  they  faw 
Th'  accomplifhments  they  wifli'd  to  gain, 

Created  not  refpe<5t,  but  awe  ; 
And  fofter  kids  ufurp'd  the  flames 
Due  only  to  experienc'd  dames. 

'Twas  then  the  general  difcord  rofe ; 
And  Jove  (induflrious  to  compofe 
The  cafual  feuds  his  hafty  nod 
Had  caus'd) ;  well  worthy  fuch  a  god, 

*  Tn  tbi  charafier  of  Hztnlct. 

•f  Qvid'i^MitcmtrfboJit)  bask  q:b.  fcb.  IJii. 


Conven'd  the  ftates.  And  though  he  kneir 
What  mortals  fay  is  realiy  true, 
"  Advice  is  fometimes  thrown  away,1' 
He  bade  them  meet,  and  fix'd  the  day. 

Each  confcious  of  their  claim,  divide 
In  feparate  bands  on  either  fide. 
Like  clients  in  a  party  cuufe, 

Determin'd  to  i'ucceed  or  die 
( What,  'er  their  judge  may  talk  of  laws), 

Staunch  martyrs  to  integrity. 
The  god  appear'd  in  proper  flatc} 
Not  as  the  arbiter  of  fate, 
With  all  thole  cnfigns  of  command 
Which  fway  the  air,  the  fea,  tlic  land, 
But  yet  with  dignity,  to  draw 
Attention,  and  becomming  awe. 

Approach,"  he  cry'd,  "  your  idle  ftriffe 

Has  rais'd  a  thought :  I'll  give  it  life. 

For  know,  yc  goats,  my  high  behcfts 

Shall  not  be  thrown  away  oil  beads. 

When  fexes  plead,  the  caufe  is  common; 

_Be  goats  no  more,  but  man  and  woman." 

The  change  enfues.  He  fmil'd  again, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  the  motley  train : 
( Here  might  we  tell  in  Ovid's  lay, 
•How  forms  to  other  forms  gave  way, 
How  pert-cock'd  tails,  and  fhaggy  hide*, 
And  horns,  and  twenty  things  befides, 
Grew  fpruce  bag-wigs,  or  wellqueu'dhaif. 
The  floating  fack,  the  Pei-cn-l'air, 
Fur  gown,  gold  chain,  or  regal  robe, 
Which  rules  in  ermin'd  (late  the  globe. 
We  wave  all  this,  and  fay -again, 
He  thus  addrefs'd  the  motley  train). 
"  When  firfl  I  different  fexes  form'd, 
Happy  myfelf,  with  goodnefs  warm'd, 
1  meant  you  helpmates  for  each  other  ; 
The  ties  of  father,  fon,  and  brother, 
And  all  the  chanties  below 
I  kindly  meant  Ihould  fpring  from  you. 
Were  more  exalted  fcenes  your  lot, 
I  kindly  meant,  as  who  would  not, 
The  fair  fhould  footh  the  hero's  care, 
The  hero  fhould  protecl  the  fair  ; 
The  ftatefman's  toils  a  refpite  find 
In  plcafurcs  of  domeftic  kind  ; 
And  kings  therufelves  in  focial  down 
Forget  the  thorns  which  line  a  crown. 

In  humbler  life  that  man  fhould  roam 
Bufy  abroad,  while  fhc  at  home, 
Impatient  for  his  dear  return, 
Should  bid  the  crackling  inccnfe  burn, 
And  i'pread,  as  fortune  might  afford, 
The  genial  feaft,  or  frugal  board; 
The  joys  of  honeft  competence, 
The  folaCe  even  of  indigence. 

But  things  are  chang'd,  no  matter  howj 
Thefe  bkffingg  are  not  frequent  now. 
L«t  -time  account,  as  he  glides  on, 
For  all  his  wings  and  fey  the  have  done' : 
We  take  you  in  his  prefent  page, 
The  refufe  of  an  iron  age. 
Then  hear  our  fober  thoughts. 
Ye  dames, 

Affection  and  good  breeding  claims 
That  firfl,  in  preference  to  the  mak's, 
We  place  your  merits  in  the  fcales. 
For  whether  'twas  defign'd  or  nots 
You  ferns  afccndency  have  got»" 


MISCELLANIES. 


Ladies,  we  own,  have  had  their  fliare 

In  learning,  politics,  and  Avar. 

To  pafs  at  once  the  doubtful  tale 

Of  Amazons  in  coats  of  mail 

(Fables  which  ancient  Greece  has  taught, 

And  if  I  knew  them,  I've  forgot). 

Authentic  records  ilill  contain, 

To  make  the  females  jufUy  vain, 

Examples  of  heroic  worth — 

Semiramis  of  *  eaft  and  f  north. 

$  Marg'ret  the  Anjoavinc,  of  Spain 

||  Fair  Blanche,  and  §  Ellen  of  Guienne. 

**  Catherine  of  France  immortal  grew 

A  rubric  faint  with  Barthol'mew  : 

In  Ruflia  Catherines  more  than  one 

Have  done  great  things :  and  many  a  Joan 

Has  bultled  in  the  active  fcene  ; 

ft  The  Pope,  the  warrior,  and  the  queen  I 

But  thefe  are  ftars  which  blaze  and  fall ; 

O'er  Albion  did  Eliza  rife 
A  conflellation  of  them  all, 

And  fhines  the  Virgo  of  the  fides  ! 
$J  Some  dames  of  lels  athletic  mould, 
By  mere  misfortune  render'dbold, 
Have  drawn  the  dagger  in  defence 
Of  their  own  fpotlefs  innocence. 
O'er  thefe  the  penfive  mule  {hall  mourn, 
And  pity's  tear  {hall  grace  their  urn. 
$ J  Others,  a  more  heroic  pare, 

By  juft  revenge  to  fury  led, 
Have  plung'd  it  in  a  hufband's  heart, 

And  triumph'd  o'er  the  mighty  dead. 
Though  laurels  are  their  meed,  'tis  true, 
Let  milder  females  have  their  due, 
And  be  with  humbler  myrtles  crown'd, 
Who  ||  ||  fuck'd  the  poifon  from  the  wound. 
For  folks  there  are  who  don't  admire 
In  angel  forms  that  foul  of  fire, 

*   The  "wife  of  Ninus. 

f  Margaret  dt  Waldemar,  commonly  called  tbt  Se- 
m:ramis  of  the  North.  Shi:  united  in  her  ot'jn  pcrfon 
tbt  three  kingdoms  of  Aroricay,  Denm.irk,  and  S-weJen. 
'Thejirjl  by  Jefcent,  tie  fe cond  by  marriage,  and  the  third 
by  conquejl.  See  the  union  of  Calmar,  1393. 

\  Wife  of  Henry  the  Sixth  of  England,  ivbo  (not- 
•witbftanding  her  f  up pefed  intrigue  itiitb  tbt  Duke  oftiuf- 
folk),fuppvrtedtbe  intfreji  of  her  bujband  and  bis  family 
•miii  the  mojl  heroic  fpirit. 

||  Blanche  of  CaJJile,  -wife  to  Louis  tbt  E'-ghth  of 
France.  She  governed  that  kingdom  during  the  minority 
ef  her  Jon  Si.  Louis,  and  during  his  ebfence  at  the  Holy 
IVars,  -with  great  fortitude  and  fuccefs.  Tie  ivuked 
chronicles  of  tbt  times  hjve  been  very  free  -with  her  cha- 
raflcr. 

§  dn  adventurer  in  tbt  crufadei.  She -was  ftrjl  mar 
ried  to  Louis  the  Seventh  of  France,  by  tvhomjhe  tvat 
divorced,  under  a  pretence  of  confanguinity  ;  and  teat  af- 
terivards  icife  to  Henry  the  Stcond  of  England.  Her 
tebaviour  here  is  •will  knvuin. 

**  The  fammis  Catherine  of  Medicis,  tvife  to  Henry 
tbe  Stitnd  »f  France,  and  mother  to  the  three  fitccecding 
ixonaribf.  Toe  maffacre  of  Pans  on  St.  Bartholomew's 
Day  -was  conducJed  under  her  auffices. 

ft  Pope  Jean,  Joan  of 'Art ',  and  Joan  of  Naples. 

J{  Some.  Others.]  Of  thefe  tivo  ajferlions  the  autbtr 
Joes  notchoofe  to  give  examples,  as  fotn:  might  be  thought 
fabulous,  and  others  invidiius. 

||  ||  Whether  the  Jiory  of  Eleanor  of  Caflilt,  ct-j/0  to' 
£.<2%vard  the  Fitjl  tf  Englaadt  is  ftfitiovt  tr  net,  the 


Nor  are  quite  pleas'd  with  wounds  and  fears 

On  limbs  befb  fram'd  for  fofter  wars. 

Nay,  now,  fo  fqueamifh  men  are  grown, 

Their  manners  are  fo  like  our  own, 

That  though  no  Spartan  dames  we  view 

Thump'd,  cuff'd,  and  wreftled  black  and  bluc^ 

Ev'n  {lighter  blemifhes  offend 

Sometimes  the  fair  one's  fondeft  friend. 

Glorious  no  doubt  it  is,  to  dare 

The  dangers  of  the  fylvan  war, 

When  foremoft  in  the  chafe  you  ride 

Some  headlong  ftecd  you  cannot  guide, 

And  owe,  by  Providence  or  chance, 

Your  fafety  to  your  ignorance. 

But  ah  !  the  confequential  ill 

Might  there  reftram  ev'n  woman's  will. 

The  furrow  plongh'd  by  *  Tyburn  hat 

On  the  fair  forehead'*  Parian  flat, 

The  freckles,  blotches,  and  parch'd  fkins, 

The  worms,  which  like  black-headed  pins 

Peep  through  the  damaik  cheek,  or  rife 

On  nofes  bloated  out  of  fize, 

Are  things  which  females  ought  to  dread.— 

But  you  know  beft,  andl  proceed. 

Some  fages,  a  peculiar  thought, 
Think  politics  become  you  not. 
Nay  one,  wellvers'd  in  nature's  rules, 
Calls  f"  cunning  women  knavifh  fools." 
— Your  pardon — 1  but  barely  hint 
What  impious  mortals  dare  to  print. 

In  learning,  doubtlefs,  you  haveihin'd 
The  paragons  of  human  kind. 
Each  abftradl  fcience  have  explor'd  ; 
Have  pierc'd  through  nature's  coycft  hoard  j 
And  cropp'd  the  lovelieft  flowers  that  blow 
On  llcep  Parnaffus"  double  brow. 

And  yet  what  fmall  remains  we  find ! 
\  Afpafia  left  no  tracts  behind  ; 
Content  her  doctrines  to  impart, 
As  oral  truths,  warm  from  the  heart. 
And  ill-bred  time  has  fwept  away 
Full  many  a  grave  and  fprightly  lay, 
Full  many  a  tome  .of  juft  renown, 
Fram'd  by  the  numerous  fair,  who  {hone 
Poetic  or  hiftoric  queens, 
From  Sappho  down  to  ||  Anne  Comnenes. 

In  modern  days  the  female  pen 
Is  paramount,  and  copes  with  men. 
Ladies  have  led  th'  inftrudive  crew, 
And  kindly  told  us  all  they  knew. 
In  France,  in  Britain,  many  a  fcore.— 
I  mention  none — to  praife  the  more. 

Eleanor  crcjjes  exijling  at prrfent  arc  afufficienf  tcftimony 
of  her  buft/Md  's  affc&itns,  and  Us  gratitude  to  her  me* 
mory. 

*  The  fmall  round  bat,  -wlicb  acquired  it;  name  from 
its  being  the  dijlinguijind  mark  of  a  pitlpackct :  it  it  no-w 
adopted  by  gentlemen  and  ladies. 

f  "  4i  tunning  luoman  is  a  kna-vijbfocl" 

Lord  Lyttleton's  Advice  to  a  Lady. 

J  The  pupils  of  this  learned  lady  (if  ive  except  So 
crates}  "were  mojt  of  them  her  lovers  too t  and  confequcntty 
received  i>.J}rx&ion  in  tbt  mojl  cgrccablt  manner  it  could 
be  conveyed. 

||  A  princefs  of  great  learning,  daughter  of  ^.knius 
Ccmnenut,  emperor  t,f  Ctnjlantinople,  during  ike  tint  of 
tijejirjl  crufades.  She  -urote  the  Ai/iury  of  Ler  fatbsr  ~ 
JiMtg  reign,  and'u.  ranked  zmor.gtbs  Jjy*ar.tir*s  bjjloriar.:, 


;T3E  WORKS  OF  V,  WHITEBEA0 


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*0**t^2,*t4*,  Ljf»e,***<,4«bp*ttr<m'  I      *tZk<  *&*»,*. 

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MISCELLANIES. 


The  fecond  Charles  on  England's  throne 
(Sav'd  from  oblivion  by  his  crown), 
Call  him  whatever  you  think  fit, 
A  knave,  ail  idiot,  or  a  wit, 
Had  from  his  travels  learnt  no  more 
Than  modern  youths  from  Europe's  tour. 
To  all  that  fhould  improve  his  mind, 
The  voluntary  dupe  was  blind. 
Whate'er  calamities  fell  on  him, 
Diftrefs  was  thrown  away  upon  him  ; 
The  fame  unfeeling  thoughtlefs  thing, 
Whether  an  exile,  or  a  king. 

Clcaveland  and  Portsmouth  had  fine  features, 
And  yet  they  were  but  filly  creatures, 
Play'd  oft*  like  fliuttles  in  a  loom 
(To  weave  the  web  of  England's  doom ! 
By  knaves  abroad,  and  knaves  at  home). 
Of  all  who  footh'd  his  *  idle  hours 
(To  wave  his  en  f>affant  amours), 
Of  all  who  gloried  in  the  flame, 
And  in  broad  day-light  blaz'd  their  fhame, 
Spite  of  her  i  frolics  and  expence, 
Nell  Gwyn  alone  had  common  lenfe. 

Of  gaming  little  Hull  be  laid, 
You're  furfeited  upon  that  head. 
What  arguments  can  move  the  mind, 
Where  folly  is  with  madnefs  join'd  ? 
What  fober  reasoning  can  prevail, 
Where  even  contempt  and  ruin  fail  ? 
Yet  let  me  mention,  betwixt  friends, 
"  Burn  not  the  taper  at  both  ends," 
Why  muft  your  wives  be  taught  by  you, 
That  necdlefs  art  to  fquandcr  too  ? 
Whene'er  they  (how  their  bracelet  firings, 
Their  dear  white  hands,  and  brilliant  rings, 
It  fhould  be  in  a  quiet  way ; 
Ladies  fhould  piddle,  and  not  play. 

You  know  too  well  your  glorious  power, 
Greatly  to  lofe  in  half  an  hour 
What  coft  your  anceftors  with  pain 
At  leaft  full  half  an  age  to  gain. 
Then  let  your  fpoufcs  fto  be  grave) 
For  coals  and  candles  fomething  fave, 
And  keep  their  pin-money  and  jointures, 
To  free  from  jail  the  kind  appomters. 

Learning— you  fcarce  know  what  it  i>. 
Then  put  the  qutllion,  and  'tis  this :     , 
True  learning  is  the  mind's  ^ood  breeding, 
*Tis  Common  Scnfe  improv'd  by  reading. 
If  Common  Senfc,  that  corner-llone, 
Is  wanting,  let  the  reft  alone. 
Better  be  fools  without  pretence, 
T!u»  coxcombs  even  of  eminence. 

,  g  from  her  hufband's  lips  prc: 
What  fhe  from  angels  might  have  heard. 

*  7i«r*  WM  ft  MM&  t/'U*i*tft  *t»fltvt  i*  a 
hurt  <tt>t>hb  It  faj/**t  «M*r  *«  mijktfft  {  «•*•  ftn*J 


.,  ., 

fxrt,  t*U*t  fonxttriiit,  test  tit  fttfanu  ntf*  kt  OHig&t- 
»./i».    Duke  of.  Buckingham'*  Character  o£  Charles 

ecoad. 

f  £jfat>  £»r*tt,  i*  tit  Hifitry  •/  th  w»  Timtt, 
f.iyj  tfMrt.  Ctvyii,  tkitjit  «w  tkt  M^itftff  «*J 
trtatwrt  tht  mtr  «w  i*  a  MM*, 
tht  ki* 


thtjtt  ««*r 

timtt. 


-And  wifely  chofe  to  underftand 
Exalted  truths  at  iecond  hand. 
Should  your  foft  mates  adopt  her  notions, 
And  for  inftrudion  wait  your  motions. 
To  what  improvements  •would  they  reach  ? 
—Lord  blefs  you,  what  have  you  to  teach  ? 

Yes,  one  thing,  I  confels  you  deal  in, 
And  read  in  fairly  without  fpelling. 
In  that,  I  own,  your  zeal  is  luch, 
You  even  communicate  too  much. 
In  matter,  fpirit,  and  in  fate, 
Your  knowledge  is  extremely  great, 
Nobly  deferting  Common  Senle 
For  metaphyfic  excellence. 
And  yet  whate'er  you  fay,  or  Cng, 
Religion  is  a  ferious  thine. 
At  leall  to  me  you  will  allow 
A  deity,  it  muft  be  fo. 
Then  let  me  whifper— w  Don't  perpkx 
h  fpecious  doubts  the  weaker  fex. 
"  Let  them  enjoy  their  Tates  and  Bradys, 
"  Free-thinking  is  not  fport  for  ladies." 

Is't  not  enough  you  read  Voltaire, 
While  fnecring  valets  frizz  your  hair, 
And  half  aikep,  with  half  an  eye, 
Steal  in  dear  infidelity  ? 
Is't  not  enough  Helvetius'  fchemes 
Elucidate  your  waking  dreams 
(Though  each  who  on  the  doctrine  deals 
Skips  o'er  the  text,  to  fkim  the  notes), 
Why  muft  the  fair  be  made  the  wife 
Partakers  of  your  myfteries  ? 
You'll  fay  they  liflen  to  your  chat. 
I  grant  them  tools,  but  what  of  that  ? 
Your  prudence,  Cure,  might  be  fo  civil 
To  let  your  females  fear  the  devil. 
Even  for  the  comfort  of  your  lives, 
Some  muft  be  mothers,  daughters,  \rivts } 
Howe'er  it  with  your  genius  fuits, 
They  fhall  not  all  be  proftitutes. 

Firm  as  the  fage  Lucretius  draws 
Above  religion,  morals,  laws, 
Secure  (though  at  a  proper  diftance) 
Of  that  great  bleffiag  uonexUkncc, 
You  triumph ;  each  a  deity 
In  all,  but  immortality. 
Why,  therefore,  will  ye  condefceod 
To  teaze  a  weak  believing  friend. 
Whofe  honeft  ignorance  might  gain 
From  error  a  relief  in  pain. 
And  bear  with  foitituae  and  honour 
The  mifcries  you  brought  upon  her  ? 
Montu*  perhaps  would  fitly  fay, 
For  Momus  hj>  a  merry  way, 

.'.I  your  wifdom  and  yowr  wit 
To  fuch  degrading  uicks  lubmit  ? 
in  foft  bofoms  ralfe  a  riot  ? 
Canft  ye  be  d — mo'd  yourfelves  in  qukt  ? 

But  that's  an  after  thought;  at  pteftnt 
We  merely  wifh  you  to  be  decent. 
And  juft  will  add  feme  trifling  things, 
From  whence  we  think  confuuon  iprings, 

You'll  eafily  conceive  in  gods, 
Who  fix  In  atf  their  thin  abodes. 
And  teaft  or.  ambrofii  j 

Fou!  feeding  muft  create  a  naulea. 
Yet  we  ouriclves  to  flclh  and  blood 
Have  gnnted  mou  t'ood, 

Nor  worn* ei  -^ « 

Ail  but  the  poor  a: 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.   WHITEHEAD. 


And  reafon  from  effects  to  caufes 

On  roll's,  entremets,  and  fauces. 

But  here  be  wife,  the  reafon's  clear, 

Be  niggards  of  your  knowledge  here, 

And  to  yourfelves  alone  confine 

That  firft  of  bleffings,  how  to  dine. 

For  fhould  the  fair  your  tafte  purfue, 

And  eating  be  their  fcience  too, 

Should  they  too  catch  this  nafty  trick 

(The  bare  idea  makes  me  fick), 

What  would  become  of  nature's  boaft  ? 

Their  beauty  and  their  fex  were  loft. 

—I  turn  difgtifted  from  the  fcene — 

She-gluttons  are  fha-aldermen. 
Another  precept  lingers  yet, 

To  make  the  tirefome  group  complete. 

In  all  your  commerce  with  the  fex, 

Whether  you  mean  to  pleafc  or  vex ; 

If  not  well  bred,  at  leaft  be  civil; 

111  manners  are  a  catching  evil. 

I  fpeak  to  the  fuperior  few — 

Ye  Britifh  youths,  1  fpeak  to  you. 
The  ancient  heroes  of  romance. 

Idolaters  in  complaifance, 

So  hit  the  fex's  deareft  whim, 

So  rais'd  them  in  their  own  efteem, 

That  ev'ry  confcious  worth  increas'd, 

And  every  foible  funk  to  reft. 

Nay,  e'en  when  chivalry  was  o'er, 

And  adoration  reign'd  no  more, 
Wi'thin  due  bounds  the  following  feet 
Reftrain'd  them  by  profound  refpect; 
Politely  grafp'd  the  filken  reins, 
And  held  them  in  ideal  chains. 

But  now,  when  you  appear  before  'em, 
You  want  all  deference  and  decorum  ; 
And,  confcious  of  good  Heav'n  knows  what, 
Noddle  your  heads,  and  flouch  your  hat ; 
Or,  carelefs  of  the  circling  throng, 
Through  full  affemblies  lounge  along, 
And  on  a  couch  politely  throw 
Your  liftlcfs  limbs  without  a  bow, 
While  all  the  fair,  like  Sheba's  queen, 
Crowd  eager  to  the  inviting  fcene, 
And  o'er  that  couch  in  raptures  hang, 
To  hear  their  Solomon's  harangue. 
No  doubt,  'tis  edifying  fluff 
(For  gentle  ears  are  cannon  proof), 
And  wife  the  doctrines  which  you  teach. 
But  your  examples  more  than  preach  : 
For  'tis  from  hence  your  high-bred  lafles 
Lofe  or  dcfpife  their  native  graces. 
Hence  comes  it  that  at  every  rout 
They  hoyden  in,  and  hoyden  out. 
The  modefl  dignity  of  yore, 
The  ftep  chaftis'd,  is  feen  no  more. 
They  hop,  they  gallop,  and  they  trot, 
A  curt'fy  is  a  thing  forgot. 
Th'  affected  flare,  the  thruft-out  chin, 
The  leer,  the  titter,  and  the  grin, 
Supply  what  "  hung  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
"  And  lov'd  to  live  in  dimple  fleek." 
Nay,  fome  who  boaft  their  fixteen  quarters 
One  might  miftake  for  chandlers  daughters. 

Ah,  could  thefe  triflers'of  a  day 
Know  what  their  matters  think  and  fay, 
When  o'er  their  claret  they  debate 
Each  pretty  victim's  future  fate; 


Vith  what  contempt  and  malice  fraught 
"hey  fneer  the  follies  they  have  taught ; 
low  deep  a  blufli  their  cheek  would  fire ! 
Their  little  breafts  would  burft  with  ire; 
And  the  moft  heedlefs  mawkin  there, 
The  lovelieft  idiot,  drop  a  tear. 

Virtues  have  fexes,  paft  a  doubt, 
vlythologifts  have  mark'd  them  out ; 
<Tor  yet  in  excellence  alone 
iave  this  peculiar  difference  mown  : 
Your  vices — that's  too  hard  a  name — 
Your  follies — fhould  not  be  the  fame, 
n  every  plant,  in  every  grain 

Of  nature's  genuine  works,  we  find 
Some  innate  effences  remain, 

Which  mark  the  fpecies  and  the  kind. 
Though  forms  may  vary,  round  or  fquarc, 
Be  fmooth,  be  rough,  be  regular  ; 
Though  colours  feparate  or  unite, 
The  fport  of  fuperficial  light  ? 
Yet  is  there  fomething,  that,  or  this, 

By  nature's  kind  indulgence  fown, 
Which  makes  each  thing  be  what  it  is, 

A  tree  a  tree,  a  ftone  a  ftone. 
So  in  each  fex  diftinct  and  clear 
A  genuine  fomething  ftiould  appear, 
Aje-nef^ri  quoi,  however  flight, 
To  vindicate  the  natural  right. 

Then,  firs,  for  1  p  :rceive  you  yawn, 
Be  this  conclufion  fairly  drawn ; 
Sexes  are  proper,  and  not  common  ; 
Man  muft  be  man,  and  woman  woman. 
In  fhort,  be  coxcombs  if  you  pieafe, 
Be  arrant  ladies  in  your  drefs ; 
Be  every  name  the  vulgar  give 
To  what  their  groffnefs  can't  conceive  : 
Yet  one  fmall  favour  let  me  aflc, . 
Not  to  impofe  too  hard  a  talk— 
Whether  you  fix  your  fancied  reign 
In  brothels,  or  in  drawing-rooms, 
The  little  fomething  ftill  retain. 

Be  gamefters,  gluttons,  jockies,  grooms, 
Be  all  which  nature  never  meant, 
Free-thinkers  in  the  full  extent, 
But  ah  ;  for  fomething  he  rever'd, 
And  keep  your  fex,  and  fhow  the  beard. 

TO  HER    GRACE  THE 

DUTCHESS  OF  QUEENSBURY  *. 

SAY,  fhall  a  bard  in  thefe  late  times 
Dare  to  addrefs  his  trivial  rhymes 
To  her,  whom  Prior,  Pope,  and  Gay, 
And  every  bard  who  breath'd  a  lay, 
Of  happier  vein,  was  fond  to  choofe 
The  patronefs  of  every  mufe  .' 

Say,  can  he  hope  that  you,  the  theme 
Of  partial  Swift's  fevere  efteem, 

*  In  thejirft  efition  of  this  little  poem,  the  namt 
'•was  not  printed.  As  the  Dutchcft  isfince  dead,  it  ca» 
not  be  neccffary  te  conceal  it.  She  -was  of  a  great  agi 
•when  this  com'  liment  "was  paid  to  her,  ivhich  •wasjirf 
gularly  -well  adapted,  as  her  Grace  never  changed  hn 
drefs  according  to  tht  fafbion,  but  retained  that  ivhid 
had  been  in  vogue  lubenjbf  ivas  a  young  beauty. 


M  /SCELLANIES. 


You,  who  have  borne  meridian  rays, 
And  triumph*  d  in  poetic  blaze, 
Ev'n  with  indulgence  fliould  receive 
The  fainter  gleams  of  ebbing  eve. 

He  will ;  and  boldly  fay  in  print, 
That  'twas  your  Grace  who  gave  the  hint ; 
Who  told  him  that  the  prefent  fcene 

Of  drefs,  and  each  prepoflerous  fafliion, 
Flow'd  from  fupinenefs  in  the  men, 

And  not  from  female  inclination. 
That  women  were  oblig'd  to  try 
All  ftratagems  to  catch  the  eye, 
And  many  a  wild  vagary  •play, 
To  gain  attention  any  way. 
'Twas  merely  cunning  in  the  fair.— 
This  may  be  true — But  have  a  care; 
Your  Grace  will  contradict  in  pait, 

Your  own  affbrtion,  and  my  fong, 
Whofe  beauty,  undifguis'd  by  art, 

Has  charm'd  fo  much,  and  charm'd  fo  long. 

VENUS  ATTIRING  THE  GRACES. 

— • — —  "  In  naked  beauty  more  adora'd, 
"  More  lovely."  MILTON. 

As  Venus  one  day,  at  her  toilet  affairs, 
"With  the  graces  attending,  adjuilcd  her  airs, 
In  a  negligent  way,  without  boddice  or  hoop, 
As  *  Guido  has  painted  the  beautiful  group, 
(For  Guido,  no  doubt,  in  idea  at  leaft, 
Had  feen  all  the  graces  and  Venus  undreftl, 
Half  penfive,  half  fmiling,  the  goddefs  of  beauty 
Look'd  round  on  the  girls,  as  they  toil'd  in  their 

duty :  [carry'd, 

And  furely,  fhe  cry'd,  you  have  ftrangely  mif- 
1'hat  not  one  of  the  three  fhould  have  ever  been 

marry'd.  [nofes, 

Let  me  nicely  examine— Fair  foreheads,  ftraight 
And  cheeks  that  might  rival  Aurora's  own  rofes  ; 
Lips ;  teeth ;  and  what  eyes !  that  can  languifh 

or  roll, 

To  enliven  or  foften  the  elegant  whole.       [deck  ; 
The  fweet  auburn  trefles,  that  made   what  they 
The  (boulders,  that  fall  from  the  delicate  neck; 
The  polilh'd  round  arm,  which  my  ftatues  might 

own,  [zone. 

And  the  lovely  contour  which  defcends  from  the 

Then  how  it  fhould  happen  I  cannot  divine : 
Either  you  are  too  coy,  or  the  gods  too  fupine. 
I  believe  'tis  the  latter ;  for  every  foft  bofom 
Muft  have  its  attachments,andwifh  to  difclole  'em. 
Sorue  lovers  not  beauty,  but  novelty  warms, 
They  have  feen  you  fo  often,  they're  tir'd  of  your 

charms. 

But  I'll  find  out  a  method  their  langour  to  move, 
And  at  leaft  make  them  flare,  if  I  can't  make 

them  love.  '  [face  f, 

Come  here,  you  two  girls,  that  look  full  in  my 

And  you  that  fo  often  are  turning  your  back, 
Put  on  thefe  cork  rumps,  and  then  tighten  your 

flays 
'Till  your  hips  and  your  ribs,  and  the  firings 

themfe'ives  crack. 
Can  ye  fpeak  ?  can  ye  breathe  .'—Not  a  word — 

Then  'twill  do.  [y°u- 

You  have  often  drefs'd  me,  and  for  once  I'll  drefs 

*  The  celebrated piSiure  of  Venui  attired  ly  the  graces* 
•j-  /Kluding  to  tbt  ufual  refrt/entatien  of  ike  graces. 


Don't  let  your  curls  fall  with  that  natural  berid, 
But  fhetch  them  up  tight  'till  each  hair  {lands  an 

end.  [tow'rs ; 

One,    two,    nay    three    cufhions,    like    Cybele's 
Then  a  few  ells  of  gauze,  and  fome  bafkets  of 

flow'rs. 

Thefe  bottles  of  nectar  will  ferve  for  perfume*. 
Go  pluck  the  fledg'd  Cupids,  and  bring  me  their 

plumes. 

If  that's  not  enough,  you  may  ftrip  all  the  fowls, 
My  doves,  Juno's  peacocks,  and  Pallas's  owls. 
And  ftay,  from  Jove's  eagle,  if  napping  *   you 

take  him, 
You  may  fnatch  a  few  quills — but  be  furc  you 

don't  wake  him. 

Hold  !  what  are  ye  doing !  I  vow  and  proteft, 
If  I  don't  watch  you  clofely,  you'll  fpoil  the  whole 

jeft. 

What  I  have  diforder'd,  you  flill  fet  to  rights, 
And   feem   half  unwilling    to    make   yourf^lves 

frights, 

What  I  am  concealing,  you  want  to  difplay ; 
But  it  fha'n't  ferve  the  turn,  for  I  will  have  my- 

way. 
Thofe  crimp'd  colet'montes  don't  reach  to  your 

And  the  heels  of  your  flippers  are  broader  than 
You  can  {land,  you  can  walk,  like  the  girls  in  the 


. 

Thofe  buckles  won't  do,  they  fcarce  cover  your 
Here,  run  to  the  Cyclops,  you  boys  without  wing's, 
And  bring  up  their  boxes  of  contraband  things.— 

Well,  now  you're  bedizen'd,  I'll  fwear,  as  ye 

pafs,     '  [glafs. 

I  can  fcarcely  help  laughing  —  Don't  look  in  the 
Thofe  tittering  boys  mall  be  whipt  if  they  teaze 

you; 
So  come  away  girls.     From  your  torments  to 

cafe  you, 

We'll  hade  to  Olympus,  and  get  the  thing  oTcf  ; 
I  have  not  the  leaft  doubt  but  you'll  each  find  a 

lover. 

And  if  it  fucceeds,  with  a  torrent  of  mirth 
We'll  pefter  their  godfhips  agen  and  agen  ; 

*  Tbejletping  Eagle  in  Pin  Jar,  thus  tranjlated  by  IVeflt 
Perch'd  on  the  fceptre  of  th'  Olympian  king, 

The  thrilling  darts  of  harmony  he  feels; 
And  indolently  hangs  his  rapid  wing, 

While  gemle  fleep  his  clofing  eye-lids  feals  ; 
And  o'er  his  heaving  limbs  in  loofe  array 
To  ev'ry  balmy  gale  the  ruffling  feathers  play. 

Thus  imitated  by  Alenftdc. 

With  flacken'd  wings, 

While  now  the  folemn  .concert  breathes  around, 
Incumbent  o'er  the  fceptre  of  his  lord 
Sleep»  the  ftcrn  eagle  ;  by  the  numbsr'd  notes 
PoffelVd;   and  fatiate  with  the  melting  tone; 
Sovereign  of  birds. 


us  by  Gray, 
Perching  on  the  fceptcred  hand 
Of  Jove,  thy  magic  lulls  the  feather*  d  king 
With  ruffled  plume-.,  and  flagging  wing  : 
Quench'd  in  dark  clouds  of  flnmbcr  lie 
The  terror  of  his  beak,  and  lightnings  of  his  eye 


THE   WORKS    OF   W.   WHITE  HE  AD. 


Then  fend  the  receipt  to  the  ladies  on  earth, 
And  bid  them  become  monftcrs,  till  men  be 
come  men. 

ON  A  MESSAGE-CARD  IN  VERSE, 

SENT    BY  A  LADY. 

HERMES,  the  gamefter  of  the  Jky, 

To  {hare  for  once  mankind's  delights, 
Slipp'd  down  to  earth,  exceeding  fly, 

And  bade  his  coachman  drive  to  White's. 
In  form  a  beau,  fo  light  he  trips, 

You'd  fwear  hk  wings  were  at  his  heels ; 
From  glafs  to  glafs  alert  he  ikips, 

And  bows  and  prattles  while  he  deals. 
In  fliort,  fo  well  his  part  he  play'd, 

The  waiters  took  him  for  a  peer  ; 
And  ev'n  fome  great  ones  whifp'ring  faid 

He  was  no  vulgar  foreigner. 
Whate'er  he  was,  he  fwept  the  board,  x 

Won  every  bett,  and  every  game ; 
Stripp'd  ev'n  the  rooks,  who  flamp'd  and  roar'd, 

And  wcnder'd  how  the  devil  it  came ! 
He  wonder'd  too,  and  thought  it  hard  ; 

But  found  at  lafl  this  great  command 
Was  owing  to  one  fav'rite  card, 

Which  ftill  brought  luck  into  his  hand. 
The  four  of  fpades;  whene'er  he  faw 

Its  fable  fpots,  he  laugh'd  at  rule*, 
Took  odds  beyond  the  gaming  law, 

And  Hoyle  and  Philidor  were  fools. 
But  now,  for  now  'twas  time  to  go, 

What  gratitude  fhall  he  exprefs? 
And  what  peculiar  boon  beftow 

Upon  the  caufe  of  his  fuccefs  ? 
Suppofe,  for  fomething  muft  be  done, 

On  Juno's  felf  he  could  prevail 
To  pick  the  pips  out,  one  by  one, 

And  ftick  them  in  her  peacock's  tall. 
Should  Pallas  have  it,  was  a  doubt, 

To  twift  her  filk,  or  range  her  pins, 
Or  fhould  the  mufes  cut  it  out, 

For  bridges  to  their  violins. 
To  Venus  ihould  the  prize  be  given, 

Superior  beauty's  juft  reward, 
And  'gainft  the  next  great  rout  in  heavsn 

Be  fent  her  for  a  meflage-card. 
Or  hold — by  Jove,  a  lucky  hit ! 

Your  goddeffes  are  arrant  farces; 
Go,  carry  it  to  Mrs          . 

And  bid  her  fill  it  full  of  verfes. 

ON  THE  BIRTH-DAY  OF  A  YOU  NG  LADY , 

JOUR  YEARS  OLD. 

OLD  creeping  time,  with  filent  tread, 
Has  ftol'n  four  years  o'er  Molly's  head. 
The  role-bud  opens  on  her  cheek, 
The  meaning  eyes  begin  to  fpeak ; 
And  in  each  fmiling  look  is  leen 
The  innocence  which  plays  within. 
Nor  is  the  fault 'ring  tongue  confin'd 
To  lifp  the  dawnings  of  the  mind, 
But  fair  and  full  her  words  convey 
The  little  all  they  have  to  fay ; 
Aod  each  fond  parent,  as  they  fall, 
Pinds  volumes  in  that  little  all. 


May  every  charm  which  Bow  appears, 
Increafe,  and  brighten  with  her  years  !  , 
And  may  that  fame  old  creeping  time 
Go  on  till  flie  has  reach'd  her  prime, 
Then,  like  a  mafter  of  hi*  trade, 
Stand  ftill,  nor  hurt  the  work  he  made. 

THE  JE  NE  SCAI  QUOI. 


YES,  I'm  in  love,  I  feel  it  now, 

And  Cselia  has  undone  me  ; 
And  yet  I'll  fwear  I  can't  tell  how 

The  pleaiing  plague  ftole  on  me. 

"Tis  not  her  face  which  love  creates, 

For  there  no  graces'  revel ; 
'Tis  not  her  fhape,  for  there  the  fates 

Have  rather  been  uncivil. 

'Tis  not  her  air,  for  fure  in  that 

There's  nothing  more  than  common  ; 

And  all  her  fenfe  is  only  chat, 
Like  any  other  woman. 

Her  voice,  her  touch,  might  give  th'  alarm— 

'Twas  both  perhaps,  or  neither; 
In  fhort,  'twas  that  provoking  charm 

Of  Caslia  all  together. 

THE  DOUBLE  CONQUEST. 

A    SONG. 

OF  mufic,  and  of  beauty's  power, 
I  doubted  much,  and  doubted  long  : 

The  faireft  face  a  gaudy  flower, 
An  empty  found  the  fweeteft  fong. 

But  when  her  voice  Clarinda  rais'd, 
And  fung  fo  fwect,  and  fmil'd  fo  gay, 

At  once  I  liften'd,  and  I  gaz'd ; 

And  heard,  and  look'd  my  foul  away. 

To  her,  of  all  his  beauteous  train, 

This  wond'rous  power  had  love  affign'd, 

A  double  conqueft  to  obtain, 

And  cure  at  once  the  deaf  and  blind. 

SONG  FOR  RANELAGH. 

YE  belles  and  ye  flirts,  and  ye  pert  little  things, 

Who  trip  in  this  frolickfome  round,       [fprings, 
Pray   tell    me    from    whence    this   impertinence 

The  fexes  at  once  to  confound  ?  [air, 

What  means  the  cock'd  hat,  and  the  mafculine 

With  each  motion  defign'd  to  perplex  ? 
Bright  eyes  were  intended  to  languifh,  not  ftare, 

And  foftnefs  the  teft  of  your  fex. 

The  girl  who  on  beauty  depends  for  fupport, 

May  call  every  art  to  her  aid ; 
The  bofom  difplay'd,  and  the  petticoat  fhort, 

Are  famples  (he  gives  of  her  trade. 
But  you  on  whom  fortune  indulgently  fmiles, 

And  whom  pride  has  preferv'd  from  the  fnare, 
Should  flily  attack  us  with  coynefs  and  wiles, 

Not  with  open  and  infolent  war. 

The  Venus,  whofe  flatue  delights  all  mankind, 
Shrinks  modeftly  back  from  the  view, 

And  kindly  fhould  feem  by  the  artift  defign'd 
To  fcrve  as  a  model  for  you. 


MISCELLANIES. 


Then  learn,  with  her  beauty,  to  copy  her  air, 

Nor  venture  too  much  to  reveal : 
Our  fancies  will  paint  what  you  cover  with  care 

And  double  each  charm  you  conceal. 

The  blufhes  of  morn,  and  the  mildnefs  of  May, 

Are  charms  which  no  art  can  procure : 
O  be  but  yourfelves,  and  our  homage  we  pay, 

And  your  empire  is  folid  and  fure. 
But  if,  Amazon-like,  you  attack1  your  gallants, 

And  put  us  in  fear  of  our  lives, 
You  may  do  very  well  for  fitters  and  aunts, 

But,  believe  me,  you'll  never  be  wives. 

AN  INSCRIPTION 

IN  THE  COTTAGE  OF  VENUS, 
AT  MIDDLETON   PARK,    OXFORDSHIRE^ 

QUISOJJIS  es,  O  juvenis,  noflro  vagus  advena  luco, 

Cui  cor  eft  tenerum,  cuique  puella  comes; 
Quifquis  es,  ah  fugias !-— hie  fuadent  omnia  amo- 
rem, 

Inque  cafa  hac  latitans  omnia  fuadet  amor. 
Afpice  flore  capri  quam  circum  aftringitur  ilex 

Hxrenti  amplexu,  ct  luxuriantc  coma ! 
Sylva  tegit,  taciturn  fternit  tibi  lana  cubile, 

Aut  tumet  in  vivos  mollior  herba  toros. 
Si  quis  adeft  fubitum  dant  tintinnabula  fignum, 

Et  ftrepit  in  primo  limine  porta  loquax. 
Nee  rigidum  oftendit  noftro  de  parjete  vultum 

AcSseufve  fenex,  dimidiufve  Cato  : 
At  nuda  afpirat  dulccs  Cytherea  furores, 

Atque  fuos  ritus  confecrat  ipfa  Venus. 

THE  SAME  IN  ENGLISH. 
WHOE'ER  thou  art,  whom  chance  ordains  to  rove 
A  youthful  ftranger  to  this  fatal  grove, 
O,  if  thy  breaft  can  feel  too  foft  a  flame, 
And  with  thee  wanders  fome  unguarded  dame, 
Fly,    fly   the   place  ! — Each  objecl  through   the 
fhade  T 

Perfuades  to  love;  and  in  this  cottage  laid,        > 
What  cannot,  may  not,  will  not,  love  perfuade?  3 
See  to  yon  oak  how  clofe  the  woodbine  cleaves, 
And  twines  around  its  luxury  of  leaves  ! 
Above,  the  boughs  a  pleafing  darknefs  ihcd, 
Beneath,  a  noifelefs  couch  foft  fleeces  fpread 
Or  fofter  herbage  forms  a  living  bed. 
Do  fpies  approack  ? — Shrill  bells  the  found  repeat, 
And  from  the  entrance  fcreams  the  conlcious  gate. 
Nor  from  thefe  \\alls  do  rigid  buftos  frown, 
Or  philofophic  ccnfors  threat  in  ftone. 
But  Venus'  felf  does  her  own  rites  approve        "^ 
In  naked  ftate,  and  through  the  raptur'd  grove  j. 
Breathes  the  fweet  madncls  of  exceflive  love.     _) 

HYMN  TO  VENUS. 

ON  A  GREAT  VARIETY  OF  ROSES  BEING  PLANTED 
ROUND   HER  COTTAGE. 

"  Te,  dea,  te  fugiunt  venti,  te  nubila  coeli 

"  Adventumque  tuum  ;  tibi  fuaves  Dxdala  tellus 

"  Summittit  flores." LUCJET. 

O  VENUS,  whpfe  infpiring  breath 
Firft  waken'd  nature's  genial  pow'r, 
And  cloath'd  the  teeming  earth  beneath 
With  every  plant,  with  every  flower^ 


94? 


Which  paints  the  verdant  lap  of  fpring, 

Or  wantons  in  the  fummer's  ray ; 
Which,  brufh'd  by  zephyr's  dewy  wing, 

With  fragrance  hails  the  opening  day  ; 
Or,  pour'd  profufe  on  hill,  on  plain,  on  dale, 
Rcferves  its   treafur'd    fweets    for    evening's 
fofter  gale !  f 

To  thee,  behold,  what  new  delights 

The  mafter  of  this  lhade  prepares  ! 
Induc'd  by  far  inferior  rites, 

You've  heard  a  Cyprian's  fofteft  prayers} 

There,  form'd  to  wreaths,  the  lickly  flower 
Has  on  thy  altars  bloom'd  and  died  ; 

But  here,  around  thy  fragrant  bower, 
Extends  the  living  incenfe  wide  ; 

From  the  firft  role  the  fofl'ring  zephyrs  rear, 
To  that  whole  fainter  blufh  adorns  the  dying  year. 

Behold  one  beauteous  flower  aflumc 

The  luftre  of  th'  unlullied  fnow  ! 
While  there  the  Belgic's  fofter  bloom 

Improves  the  damafk's  deeper  glow; 
The  Auftrian  here  in  purple  breaks, 

Or  flaunts  in  robes  of  yellow  light ; 
While  there,  in  more  fantaftic  ftreaks, 

The  red  rofe  *  mingles  with  the  white, 

And  in  its  name  records  poor  Albion's  woes, 

Albion  that  oft  has  wept  the  colours  of  the  rofc  i 

Then,  Venus,  come  ;  to  every  thorn 

Thy  kind  prolific  influence  lend; 
And  bid  the  tears  of  eve  and  morn 

i-n  gently  dropping  dews  defcend ; 
Teach  every  funbeam's  warmth  and  light 

To  pierce  thy  thicket's  inmoft  fhade  ; 
Nor  let  th'  ungenial  damps  of  night 

The  breeze's  fearching  wings  evade, 
But  every  plant  confcf*  the  power  that  guides, 
And  all  be  beauty  here,  where  beauty's  quee* 
prefides. 

So  fhall  the  matter's  bounteous  hand 

New  plans  defign,  new  temples  raife 
To  thee,  and  wide  as  his  command 

Extend  the  trophies  of  thy  praife. 
So  daily,  nightly,  to  thy  fl.ar 

The  bard  fhall  grateful  tribute  pay, 
Whether  it  gilds  Aurora's  car, 

Or  loiters  in  the  ^rain  of  day  ;  [grace 

And   each    revolving    year   new   hymns   fhall 
Thy   fhowery  month,   which  wakes  the  vege-. 
table  race. 

IN  A  HERMITAGE, 

AT  THE  SAME  PLACE. 

THE  man  whofe  days  of  youth  and  cafe 

In  nature's  calm  enjoyments  pafs'd, 
Will  want  no  monitors  like  f  thefe, 

To  torture  and  alarm  his  laft. 

The  gloom)  grot,  the  cyprefs  fhadc, 

The  zealot's  liil  of  rigid  rules, 
To  him  are  merely  dull  parade, 

The  trag.c  pageantry  of  fools. 

*  York  and  Lnncajter  rpftt. 
•f    Sljkull,  hour  ^lafs,   &;, 

30iij 


THE   WORKS   OF     W.   WH1TEHEAD. 


What  life  affords  he  freely  taft0s, 

When  nature  calls,  refigns^his  breath; 

Nor  age  in  weak  repining  Waftes, 
Nor  adts  alive  the  farce  pf  death. 

Not  fo  the  youths  of  folly/s  train, 

Impatient  of  each  kind  reftraint 
Which  parent  nature  fix'o,  in  vain, 

To  teach  us  man's  true  blifs,  content. 

For  fomething  ftill  beyond  6nough 

With  eager  impotence  the^  ftrive, 
Till  appetite  has  learn'd  to  loath 

The  very  joys  by  which  we  live. 

Then,  fill'd  with  all  which  four  difdain 

To  difappointed  vice  can  add, 
Tir'd  of  himfelf,  man  flies  from  man, 

And  hates  the  world  he  made  fo  bad. 

INSCRIPTION  FOR  A  COLD  BATH. 

WHOE'ER    thou.    art,    approach.— Has    med'cine 
fail'd  ?  [vain  ? 

Have  balms  and  herbs  eflay'd  their  powers  in 
Nor  the  free  air,  nor  foft'ring  fun  prevail'd 
To  raife  thy  drooping  ftrength,  or  foothe  thy 
pain? 

Yet  enter  here.     Nor  doubt  to  truft  thy  frame 
To  the  cold  bofom  of  this  lucid  lake.       [flame, 

Here  health  may  greet  thee,  and  life's  languid 
Ev'n  from  its  icy  grafp  new  vigour  take. 

What  foft  Aufonia's  genial  {bores  deny, 

May  Zembla  give.  Then  boldly  truft  the  wave : 

So  fhall  thy  grateful  tablet  hang  oh  high, 
And  frequent  vptaries  blefs  this  healing  caye. 

INSCRIPTION  ON  AN  OAK, 

'  AT  ROMEI.Y,   IN   DERBYSHIRE. 
The  oak  is  fuppofed  to  ffeak. 

ONCE  was  I  fam'd,  an  awful  fage, 

The  fiknt  Bonder  of  my  age  ! 

To  me  was  every  fcience  known, 

And  every  language  was  my  own. 

The  fun  beheld  my  daily  toil, 

I  labour'd  o'er  the  midnight  oil, 

And.  hid  in  woods,  conceal'd  from  view 

Whate'cr  I  was,  whatever  I  knew. 

?n  fliort,  confum'd  with  learned  care, 

1  liv'd,  I  died. — I  rooted  here !    - 

For  Heaven,  that's  pleas'd  with  .doing  good, 

To  make  me  ufeful,  made  me  wood. 

INSCRIPTION  FOR  A  TREE*. 
ON  THE  T.ZRRACEAT  NUNBHAM,  OXFORDSHIRE. 

THIS  tree  was  planted  by  a  female  hand, 
In  the  gay  dawn  of  ruftic  beauty's  glow ; 

*  This  tree  is  ivell  knoivn  in  the  country  people  ty 
tie  name  rf  Bab's  Tree.  It  -was  flar.tcd  by  one  Bat . 
lara  Wyat,  ti-bo  ivas  fo  much  attached  to  it,  that,  on 
the  removal  of  the  village  of  Nuntbam,  to  where  it  is 
noiu  built,  Jbe  carnc/lly  entreated  tbdt  Jbe  might  fill 
remain  in  her  otJ  habitation.  Her-  reqvcjl  ivas  com 
plied  -with,  at(d  her  nttage  not  fulled  dtfiun  till  after 
for  death,. 


And  faft  befide  it  did  her  cottage  (land,      [mow, 
When  age  had  cloath'd  the  matron's  head  with 
To  her,  long  ns'd  to  nature's  Cmple  ways, 

This  fingle  fpot  was  happinefs  complete  ; 
Her  tree  could  fhield  her  from  the  noon-tide  blaze, 

And  from  the  tempefl  fcreen  her  little  feat. 
Here  with  her  Collin  oft  the  faithful  maid 

Had  led  the  dance,  the  envious  youths  among: 
Here,  when  his  aged  bones  in  earth  were  laid, 

The  patient  matron  turn'd  her  wheel,  andfung. 
She  felt  her  lofs ;  yet  felt  it  as  flie  ought, 

Nor  dar'd  'gainft  nature's  general  law  exclaim; 
But  check'd  her  tears,  and  to  her  children  taught 

That  well-known  truth,  "  Their  lot  would  be 
"  the  fame."  [{hores 

Though  "Thames  before  her  flow'd,  his  farther 
She  ne'er  explor'd  ;  contented  with  her  own. 
And  diflant  Oxford,  though  flie  faw  its  towers, 

To  her  ambition  was  a  world  unknown. 
Did  dreadful  tales  the  clowns  from  market  bear 

Of  kings  and  tumults,  and  the  courtier  train, 
She  coldly  liften'd  with  unheeding  ear, 

And  good  queen  Anne,  for  aught  fhe  car'd, 

might  reign. 
The  fun  her  day,  the  feafons  mark'd  her  yp'.r, 

She  toii'd,  /he  flept,  from  care,  from  envy  free, 
For  what  had  flie  to  hope,  or  what  to  fear, 

Bleft  with  her  cottage,  and  her  fav'rite  tree, 
Hear  this  ye  great,  whole  proud  pofleflions  fprcad, 

O'er  earth's  rich  furface  to  no  fpace  confin'd  ; 
Ye  loarn'd  in  arts,  in  men,  in  manners  read, 

Who  boafl  as  wide  an  empire  o'er  the  mind, 
With  reverence  vifit  her  auguft  domain  ; 

To  her  unletter'd  memory  bow  the  knee : 
She  found  that  happinefs  you  feek  in  vain, 

Bleft  with  a  cottage,  and  a  fingle  tree. 

INSCRIPTION 

ON  THE  PEDESTAL  OF   AN  CRN. 

ErcfleJ  in  the  jloiver-garden  at  Nunebam,  by  G.  S, 
Harcouit,  and  the  Honourable  Elizabeth  JTerntn% 
Vfiount  and  \Vifcountef i  Nunebam.  Sacrtd  to  tbt 
memory  of  Frances  Poole,  Vifcountefs  Palmer/Ion. 

HFR  E  fhall  our  ling' ring  footfleps  oft  be  found, 
This  is  her  fhrine,  and  confecrates  the  ground. 
Here  living  fweets  around  her  altar  rife, 
And  breathe  perpetual  incenle  to  the  fkies. 

Here  too  the  thoughtlefs  and  the  young  may 

tread, 

Who  Ihun  the  drearier  manfions  of  the  dead ; 
May  here  be  taught  what  worth  the  world  has 

known. 

Her  wit,  her  fenfe,  her  virtues  were  her  own  ; 
To  her  peculiar- — and  for  ever  loft 
To  thofe  who  knew,  and  therefore  lov'd  hermoft. 

O,  if  kind  pity  (leal  on  virtue's  eye, 
Check  not  the  tear,  nor  flop  the  ufeful  figh ; 
From  foft  humanity's  ingenuous  flame 
A  wifli  may  rife  to  emulate  her  fame, 
And  fome  faint  image  of  her  worth  reftore, 
When  thofe  who  now  lament  her  are  no  more. 

AN  EPITAPH. 

HERE  lies  a  youth,  (ah  wherefore  breathlefs  lies!) 
Learn'd  without  pride,  and  diffidently  wife. 
Mild  to  all  faults,  which  from  weak  nature  flow'd  J 
Fond  of  ail  virtues,  wherefge'er  beftow'd. 


M  I  S  C  E  L  L  A  N  I  E  S. 


Who  never  gave,  nor  flightly  took  offence, 
The  beft  good-nature,  and  the  beft  good  fenfe. 
Who  living  hop'd,  and  dying  felt  no  fears, 
His  only  {ting  of  death,  a  parent's  tears. 

EPITAPH  IN  WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MRS  PRJTCHARD. 

This  tablet  is  placed  here  by  tie  -voluntary  fubfcripilon 
cf  thofe  iL'ho  admired  and  ejleemed  her.  She  retired 
frumthejlage,  nf  ivhich  fje  had  long  been  the  crna- 
meat,  in  tie  month  of  April  1768,  and  ditd  at  Bath 
in  the  month  of  Augujl  folio-wing J  in  the  $"]th  year 
of  her  age. 

HER  comic  vein  had  every  charm  to  pleafe, 
'Twas  nature's  dictates  breath'd  with  nature's 

cafe. 

Ev'n  whvn  her  powers  fuftain'd  the  tragic  load, 
Full,  clear,  and  juil  th'  harmonious  accents  flow'd ; 
And  the  big  paflions  of  her  feeling  heart 
Burft  freely  forth,  and  fhani'd  the  mimic  art. 

Oft,  on  the  fcene,  with  colours  not  her  own, 
She  painted  vice,  and  taught  us  what  to  fhun : 
One  virtuous  track  her  real  life  purfued, 
That  nobler  part  was  uniformly  good, 
Each  duty  there.to  iuch  perfection  wrought, 
That,  if  the  precepts  fail' d,  th' example  taught. 

ON  THE  LATE 

IMPROVEMENTS  AT  NUNEHAM, 

THE    SEAT    OF    THE    EARL    OF    HARCOUST. 

DAME  nature,  the  goddefs,  one  very  bright  day, 

In  ffrolling  through  Nuneham,  met  Brown  in  her 
way  : 

And  blefs  me,  fhe  faid,  with  an  infolent  fneer, 

I  wonder  that  fellow  will  dare  to  come  here. 

What  more  than  I  d  id  has  your  impudence  plann'd? 

The  lawn,' \vood,  and  water,  are  all  of  my  hand ; 

In 'my  very  beft  manner,  with  Themis' s  fcales, 

I  lifted  the  hills,  and  I  fcoop'd  out  the  vales; 

With  Sylvan's  own  umbrage  I  grac'd  cv'ry  brow, 

And  pour'd  the  rich  Thames  thiough  the  mea 
dows  below.  [mand 
I  grant  it,  he  cry'd;  to  your  ibv'reign  com- 

I  bow,  as  I  ought.— Gentle  lady,  your  hand ; 

The  weather's  inviting,  fo  let  us  move  on  ; 

You  know  what  you  did,  and  now  fee  what  I've 
done. 

I,  with  gratitude,  own  you  have  reafon  to  plead, 

That  to  thefe  happy  fcenes  you  were  bounteous 
indeed  : 

My  lovely  materials  were  many  and  great ! 

(For  fometimes,  you  know,  I'm  oblig'd  to  create). 

But  fay  in  return,  my  adorable  dame, 

To  all  you  fee  here,  can  you  lay  a  juft  claim  ? 

Were  there  no  flighter  parts  which  you  finifh'd  in 
hafte, 

Or  left,  like  a  friend,  to  give  fcope  to  my  tafte  ? 

Who  drew  o'er  the  furface,  did  you,  or  did  I, 

The  fmooth-flowing  outline,  that  fteals  from  the 
eye*, 

*  Thejirjt  two  words  in  this  couplet  lave  identical, 
rather  than  corref ponding  founds,  end  therefore  only  ap- 
fear  to  rlyms.  This  defe{tl  bqiueicr,  may  eajily  bs 


The  foft  undulations,  both  diftant  and  near, 
That  heave  from  the  lawns,  and  yet  fcarccly  ap 
pear  ? 

(So  bends  the  ripe  harveft  the  breezes  beneath, 
As  if  earth  was  in  {lumber,  and  gently  took  breath), 
\Vho  thinn'd,  and  who  group'd,  and  who  fcat- 

ter'd  thofe  trees, 
Who  bade  the  flopes  fall  with  that  delicate  eafe, 
Who  cail  them  in  ftiade,  and  who  plac'd  them  in 

light, 

Who  bade  them  divide,  and  who  bade  them  unite  ? 
The  ridges  are  melted,  the  boundaries  gone  : 
Obfer»e  all  thefe  changes,  and  candidly  own 
1  have  cloath'd  you  when  naked,  and,  when  over- 

dreft, 

I  have  ftripp'd  you  again  to  your  boddice  and  veft  ; 
Conceal'd  ev'ry  blemiib,  each  beauty  difplay'd, 
As  Reynolds  would  pidture  fome  exquifite  maid, 
Each  fpirited  feature  would  happily  place, 
And  fhed  o'er  the  whole  inexprcflible  grace. 

One  queftion  remains.  Up  the  green  of  yfcnfleep, 
Who  threw  the  bold  walk  with  that  elegant  fweep  ? 
— There  is  little  to  fee,  till  the  fummit  we  gain  ; 
Nay,  never  draw  back,  you  may  climb  without 

pain, 
And,  I  hope,  will  perceive  how  each  object  is 

caught, 

And  is  loft  in  exactly  the  point  where  it  ought. 
That  ground  of  your  moulding  is  certainly  fine, 
But  the  fwcll  of  that  knoll  and  thofe  openings 

are  mine. 

The  profpecl,  wherever  beheld,  muft  be  good, 
But  has  ten  times  iu  charms,  when  you  burft  from 

this  wood,  [hold ! 

A  wood  of  my   planting.— The  goddefs   cried, 
'Tis  grown  very  hot,  and  'tis  grown  very  cold  : 
She  iann'd  and  fhe  fhudder'd,  fhe  cough'd  and 

fhe  fncez'd, 

Inclin'd  to  be  angry,  inclin'd  to  be  pleas'd, 
Half  fmil'd,  and  half  pouted— then  turn'd  from 

the  view,  [drew. 

And  dropp'd  him  a  curtfey,  and  blufliing  with- 
Yet  foon  recollecting  her  thoughts,  as  fhe  pafs'd, 
"  I  may  have  my  revenge  oil  this  fellow  at  laft  : 
"  For  a  lucky  conjecture  conies  into  my  head, 
"  That,  whate'er  he  has  done,  and  whate'er  he 

"  has  faid, 

"  The  world's  little  malice  will  balk  his  defign : 
"  Each  fault  they  call  his,  and  each  excellence 

"  mine." 

TO  LADY  NUNEHAM, 

NOW  COUNTESS   OF  UAKCOVRT. 

On  tie  death  ef  her  Jifer,  the  Honourable  Catherine 
V enable t    Vtrntn,  June  1775. 

MILD  as  the  opening  morn's  fereneft  ray, 
Mild  as  the  clofc  of  fummer's  fofteft  day, 
Her  form,  her  virtues,  (fram'd  alike  to  pleafe 
Withartlefs  grace  and  unaflumingeafe), 

remoi>:d,  ty  tranfpojing  the  two  verfet,   and  reading 
them  thus  : 

"  That  fweet-flowing  outline,  that  fteals  fronr 

«'  the  view, 
"  Whodie  w  o'er  the  furface,  did  I,  or  did  y»» 


M 


3.O  iiij 


9S» 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.   WHITEHEAD. 


On  every  bread  their  mingling  influence  ftole, 
And  infwect  union  breath'd  one  beauteous  vhole. 

Oft,  o'er  a  lifter's  much-lamented  bier, 
Has  genuine  angulfivpour'd  the  kindred  tear : 
Oft,  on  a  dear  lov'd  friend's  untimely  grave, 
Have  funk  in  fpeechlefs  grief,  the  wife  and  brave. 

—Ah  haplefs  thou  !  for  whofe  feverer  woe 
Death  aim'd  with  double  force  his  faul  blow, 
Condemn'd,  (juft  Heaven!  for  what  myflerious 

end,) 
To  lofe  at  once  the  lifter  and  the  friend  *  ! . 

THE  BATTLE  OF  ARGOED  LLWYFAINf. 

MORNING  rofe :  the  iffuing  fun 
Saw  the  dreadful  fight  begun ; 
And  that  fun's  defcending  ray 
Clos'd  the  battle,  clos'd  the  day. 

Fflamdwyn  pour'd  his  rapid  bands, 
Legions  four,  o'er  Reged's  lands. 
The  numerous  hoft,  from  fide  to  fide, 
Spread  deftru<ftion  wild  and  wide, 
From  Argoed's  $  fummits,  foreft-crown'd, 
To  fleep  Arfyndd's  ||  utmoft  bound. 
Short  their  triumph,  Ihort  their  fway, 
Born  and  ended  with  the  day! 
Flufh'd  with  conqueft,  Fflamdwyn  faid, 
Boaflful  at  his  army's  head, 
"  Strive  not  to  oppofe  the  ftream, 
«'  Redeem  your  lands,  your  lives  redeem, 
"  Give  me  pledges,"  Fflamdwyn  cried. 
"  Never;"  Uiien's  fon  replied. 
Owen  §,  of  the  mighty  flroke, 
Kindling,  as  the  hero  fpokc, 

*  ThejirJIJix  lines  of  tills  elegant  elegiac  foem  are 
irfcribed  on  a  nrat  marble  tablet  (fimilar  to  that  of 
Mrs.  Priicbanfs  monument  in  Wejlminftcr- Abbey  ), 
•which  is  placed  in  the  chancel  of'the  parijb-clurch  of 
Sudbury,  in  Stxffordjbirc,  and  the  four  following  ad 
ded,  in/lead  of  tubat  is  here  perfonally  addrtffed  to  the 
prcfint  Lady  Hartourt. 

"  This  fair  example  to  the  world  was  lent, 

"  As  the  Ihori  leffon  of  a  life  well  fpent ; 

"  Alas,  how  fhort!    but  bounteous  Heav'n  beft 

"  knows 
u  When  to  reclaim  the  bleflings  it  bellows." 

f  The  folio-wing  is  a  tranflation  cf  a  poem  of  Ta- 
liejjln,  ling  of  the  bards,  and  is  a  defcription  of  the 
tattlt  of  Argoed  Llvuyfain,  fought  about  the  year  548, 
ty  Goiiden,  a  ting  of  North  Britain,  and  Urien  Reged, 
ting  of  Cambria,  agaitfi  Fflamdwyn,  a  Saxon  general, 
J'uppofed  to  be  Ida,  king  rf  Northumberland."  It  is 
inferteJ  in  Jones's  Hijlorical  Account  of  the  Weljb 
Sards,  publtfied  in  1784,  and  is  thus  introduced  by  the 
author  :  "  I  am  indebted  to  the  obliging  difpnfttion  and 
"  undiminijhed power;  of  Mr.  WJ>itebeaf,  for  tie  fal- 
"  lowing  faithful  and  animated  •uerfification  of  Mi  va- 

ft        I  7  *'  o  "*  *~  -      ~  •        . 

"  (liable  anttqut. 

This  is  the  lafl  of  tie  great  battles  of  Urien  Reged, 
celebrated  by  Talie/in,™  poems  no-tv  extant.  See  Carte's 
Hiftory  of  England,  p.  211.  and  213. 

t  A  part  of  Cumbria,  the  country  of  Prince  Lly- 
IL-arch  Hen,  from  tvhence  he  -was  drove  by  the  Saxons. 

||    Someplace  on  the  borders  of  Northumberland. 

§  Owen  af  Urien  afied  as  bis  father's  general. 


Cenau    *,  Coel's  blooming  heir, 

Caught  the  flame,  and  grafp'd  the  fpear : 

"  Shall  Coel's  ifftie  pledges  give 

"  To  the  infulting  foe,  and  live  ! 

"  Never  fuch  be  Briton's  (hame, 

"  Never,  till  this  mangled  frame 

"  Like  feme  vanquifh'd  lion  lie, 

"  Drench'd  in  blood,  and  bleeding  die." 

Day  advanc'd :  and  ere  the  fun 
Reach'd  the  radiant  point  of  noon, 
Urien  came  with  frefh  fnpplies. 
"  Rife,  ye  fons  of  Cambria,  rife ! 
"  Spread  your  banners  to  the  foe, 

Spread  them  on  the  mountain's  brow : 
Lift  your  lances  high  in  air, 
Friends  and  brothers  of  the  war  j 
Rufh  like  torrents  down  the  fteep, 
Through  the  vales  inmyriadsfweep; 
Fflamdwyn  never  can  fuftain 
The  force  of  our  united  train." 
Havoc,  havoc  rag'd  around, 
Many  a  carcafe  ftrew'd  the  ground : 
Ravens  drank  the  purple  flood, 
Raven  plumes  were  dyed  in  blood ; 
Frighted  crowds  from  place  to  place, 

Eager,  hurrying,  breathlefs,  pale, 
Spread  the  news  of  their  difgrace, 
Trembling  as  they  told  the  tale. 
Thefe  arc  Talieffin's  rhymes, 
Thefe  {hall  live  to  diftant  times, 
And  the  bard's  prophetic  rage 
Animate  a  future  age. 

Child  of  forrow,  child  of  pain, 
Never  may  I  fmile  again, 
If  till  all-lubduing  death 
Clofe  thefe  eyes,  und  flop  this  breath, 
Ever  I  forget  to  raife 
My  grateful  fongs  to  Urien's  praife  ! 

THE  SWEEPERS. 

I  si  NO  of  fweepers,  frequent  in  thy  ftreets, 
Augufta,  as  the  flowers  which  grace  the  fpring, 
Or  branches  withering  in  autumnal  {hades, 
To  form  the  brooms  they  wield.     Prefer  v'd  by 

them  [rheums 

From  dirt,  from  coach-hire,   and   th'  oppreflivc 
Which  clog  the  fprings  of  life,  to  them  I  fing, 
And  a{k  no  infpiration  but  their  fmiles. 

Hail,  unown'd  youths,  and  virgins  unendow'd  ! 
Whether  on  bulk  begot,  while  rattled  loud 
The  pafling  coaches,  or  th'  officious  hand 
Of  fportive  link-boy  wide  around  him  dafh'd 
The  pitchy  flame  obftrui5live  of  the  joy  ; 
Or  more  propitious  to  the  dark  retreat 
Of  round-houfe  owe  your  birth,  where  nature's 

reign 

Revives,  and  emolous  of  Spartan  fame, 
The  mingling  fexes  fharc  promifcuous  love  ; 
And  fcarce  the  pregnant  female  knows  to  whom 
She  owes  the  precious  burden,  fcarce  the  fire 
Can  claim,  confus'd,  the  many-featur'd  child. 

*  Cenau  led  to  tie  affi/lance  of  Urien  Reged,  th? 
forces  of  bis  father  Coel  Godhebog,  ting  of  a  northern 
trad  called  Godden,  probably  inhabited  by  the  Godiniof. 
Ptolemy.  Owen  ap  Urien  and  Cenau  ap  Coel,  -were 
in  the  number  of  Arthur's  ln!g/jtt.  See  Levvit't 
Iliitury  of  Britain,  p.  201, 


MISCELLANIES. 


Nor  blufli  that  hence  your  origin  we  trace  : 
*Twas  thus  immortal  heroes  fprung  of  old 
Strong  from  the  ftol'n  embrace :  by  fuch  as  you, 
Uiihous'd,  uncloth'd,  unletter'd,  and  unfed, 
Were  kingdoms  modell'd,  cities  taught  to  rife^ 
Firm  laws  enadted,  freedom's  rights  maintainM, 
The  gods  and  patriots  of  an  infant  world  ! 

Let  others  meanly  chant  in  tuneful  fong 
The  black-fhoe  race,  whofe  mercenary  tribes, 
Allur'd  by  halfpence,  take  their  morning  ftand 
Where  flreets  divide,  and  to  their  proffer'd  flools 
Solicit  wand'ring  feet ;  vain  penfioners, 
And  placemen  of  the  crowd  !  Not  fo  you  pour 
Your  bleffings  on  mankind.  Nor  traffic  vile 
Be  your  employment  deem'd,  ye  laft  remains 
Of  public  fpirit,  whofe  laborious  hands, 
Uncertain  of  reward,  bid  kennels  know 
Their  wonted  bounds,  remove  the  bord'ring  filth, 
And  give  th'  obftrudled  ordure  where  to  glide. 

What  though  the  pitying  pafienger  bellows 
His  unextorted  boon,  muft  theyrefufe 
The  well-earn'd  bounty,  fcorn  th'  obtruded  ore  ? 
Proud  were  the  thojght  and  vain.    And  fhall  noc 

we 

Repay  their  kindly  labours,  men  like  them, 
With  gratitude  unfought?  I,  too,  have  oft 
Seen  in  our  flreets  the  wither'd  hands  of  age 
Toil  in  th'  induftrious  taflc ;  and  can  we  there 
Be  thrifty  niggards  ?  Hap'y  they  have  known 
Far  better  days,  and  fcatter'd  liberal  rou»d 
The  fcanty  pittance  we  afford  them  now. 
Soon  from  this  office  grant  them  their  difcharge, 
Ye  kind  church-wardens  1  take  their  meagre  limbs, 
Shiv'ring  with  cold  and  age,  and  wrap  them  warm 
In  thofe  bleft  manfions  charity  has  rais'd. 

But  yqu  of  younger  years,  while  vigour  knits 
Your  lab  ring  finews,  urge  the  generous  taflc, 
Nor  lofe  in  fruitlefs  brawls  the  precious  hours 
Affign'd  to  toil.     Be  your  contentions,  who 
Firft  in  the  dark'ning  ftreels,  when  Autumn  (beds 
Her  earlieft  fhowers,  fhall  clear  th'  obflru&ed  pafs ; 
Or  laft  fhall  quit  the  field,  when  Spring  diftills 
Her  moift'ning  dews,  prolific  there  in  vain. 
So  may  each  lufty  fcavenger,  ye  fair, 
Fly  ardent  to  your  arms;  and  every  maid, 
Ye  gentle  youths,  be  to  your  wifhes  kind; 
Whether  Oftrea's  fifhy  fumes  allure, 
As  Venus'  trefles  fragrant ;  or  the  fweets 
More  mild  and  rural  from  her  ftall  who  toils 
To  feaft  the  fages  of  the  Samian  fchool. 

Nor  ever  may  your  hearts,  elate  with  pride, 
Defert  this  fphere  of  love  ;  for  Ihould  ye,  youths, 
When  blood  boils  high,  and  fomc  more  lucky 

chance 

Has  fwell'd  your  ftores,  purfue  the  tawdry  band 
That  romp  from  lamp  to  lamp— for  health  expeft 
Difcafe,  for  fleeting  pleafurc  foul  rcmorfe, 


And  daily,  nightly,  agonizing  pains. 
In  vain  you  call  for  ^Efculapius'  aid 
From  Whitecrofs  Alley,  or  the  azure  pofts 
Which  beam  through  Haydon  Yard  :  the  god  dc* 

mands 
More  ample  offerings,  and  rejects  your  prayer. 

And  you,  ye  fair,  O  let  me  warn  your  breaft* 
To  fhun  deluding  men  :  for  fome  there  are, 
Great  lords  of  counties,  mighty  men  of  war, 
And  well-drefs'd  courtiers,  who  with  leering  eye 
Can  in  the  face  begrim'd  with  dirt  difcern 
Strange  charms,  and  pant  for  Cynthia  in  a  cloud. 

But  let  Lardella's  fate  avert  your  own. 
I.ardella  once  was  fair,  the  early  boaft 
Of  proud  St.  Giles's,  from  its  ample  pound 
To  where  the  column  points  the  feven-fold  day. 
Happy,  thrice  happy,  had  me  never  known 
A  fireet  more  fpacious !  but  ambition  led 
Her  youthful  footfteps,  artlefs,  unaffur'd, 
To  Whitehall's  fatal  pavement.  There  {he  ply'd 
Like  you  the  a<5Uve  broom.  At  fight  of  her 
The  coachman  dropp'd  his  lam,  the  porter  oft 
Forgot  his  burden,  and  with  wild  amaze 
The  tall  well-booted  fentry,  arm'd  in  vain, 
Lean'd  from  his  horfe,  to  gaze  upon  her  charms. 

But  fate  referv'd  her  for  more  dreadful  ills : 
A  lord  beheld  her,  and  with  powerful  gold 
Seduc'd  her  to  his  arms.  What  can  not  gold 
Effedr,  when  aided  by  the  matron's  tongue, 
Long  tried  and  pra&is'd  in  the  trade  of  vice, 
Againft  th'  unwary  innocent !  A  while 
Dazzled  with  fplendour,  giddy  with  the  height 
Of  unexperienc'd  greatnefs,  fhc  looks  down 
With  thoughtlefs  pride,  nor  fees  the  gulf  beneath. 
But  foon,  too  foon,  the  high-wrought  tranfport 

finks 

In  cold  indifference,  and  a  newer  face 
Alarms  her  reftlefs  lover's  fickle  heart. 
Diftrefs'd,  abandon'd,  whither  fhall  fhe  fly  ? 
How  urge  her  former  taflc,  and  brave  the  winds 
And  piercing  rains  with  limbs  whofe  daintier 
fenfe  [now, 

Shrinks  from  the  evening  breeze?  Nor  has  fhc 
Sweet  innocence,  thy  calmer  heart-felt  aid, 
To  folace  or  fupport  the  pangs  fhe  feel». 

Why  fhould  the  weeping  mufe  purfue  her  flepsi 
Through  the  dull  round  of  infamy,  through  haunts 
Of  public  luft,  and  every  painful  flagc 
Of  ill-feign 'd  tranfport,  and  uneafy  joy? 
Too  fure  fhe  tried  them  all,  till  her  funk  eye 
Loft  its  laft  languifh  ;  and  the  bloom  of  health, 
Which  revell'd  once  on  beauty's  virgin  cheek, 
Was  pale  difeafe,  and  meagre  penury. 
Then  loath'd,  defertcd,  to  her  life's  laft  pang-, 
In  bitternefs  of  foul,  fhe  curs'd  in  vain 
Her  proud  betrayer,  curs'd  her  fatal  charms, 
And  perifh'd  in  the  ftrctts  from  whence  fhe  fprung 


954 


THE    WORKS   OF   W.   WHITEHEAD. 


FATAL  CONSTANCY;  OR,  LOVE  IN  TEARS. 

A    SKETCH    OF    A 

TRAGEDY  IN  THE  HEROIC  TASTE. 


w  Sed  vetuere  patrcs  quod  non  potuere  vetare." 


OVID. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

THE  following  fketch  of  a  tragedy,  though  inter 
rupted  with  breaks  and  et  ceteras  (which  are  left  to 
be  fupplied  by  the  fancy  of  the  reader),  is  never- 
thtlels  a  continued  foliloquy  fpoken  by  the  hero  of 
the  piece,  and  may  be  performed  by  one  actor, 
with  all  the  flarts,  graces,  and  theatrical  attitudes 
in  practice  at  prefent. 

If  any  young  author  fhould  be  ambitious  of 
•writing  on  this  model,  he  may  begin  his  preface, 
or  his  advertifement,  which  is  the  more  fafhion- 
able  term,  by  obferving,  that  "  it  is  a  melancholy 
"  contemplation  to  every  lover  of  literature,  to 
«'  behold  that  univerfal  defect  of  fcience  which  is 
"  the  difgrace  of  the  prefent  times."  He  may 
then  proceed  to  affert,  "  that  every  fpecies  of  fine 
«  writing  is  at  its  very  loweft  ebb ;  that  the  reign 
<c  Of  #***  was  what  might  properly  enough  be 
"  ftyled  the  golden  age  of  dramatic  poetry  ;  that 
«  fince  that  happy  era,  genius  itfelf  has  gradually 
«  decayed,  till  at  length,  if  he  may  be  allowed 
*'  the  expreffion,  the  effata  -vires  of  nature,  by  he 
«  knows  not  what  fatality,  feem  quite  exhauft- 
«  ed." 

In  his  dedication,  if  to  a  lord — the  proper  topics 
are  his  lordfiiip's  public  fpirit;  the  noble  fland 
•which  he  made  in  the  caufe  of  liberty,  but  mote 
particularly  his  heroic  difintereftedneJs,  in  hiding 
from  the  world  his  own  fpirited  performances,, 
that  thofe  of  inferior  authors  might  have  a  chance 
for  fuccefs. 

If  to  a  lady — after  the  ufual  compliments  of 
wit,  beauty,  elegance  of  tafte,  and  every  focial 
virtue,  he  muft  by  no  means  forget,  that  like  Pro 
metheus  he  has  endeavoured  to  fteal  fire  from  hea 
ven  ;  and  that  the  fineft  and  moft  animated  touch 
es  in  the  character  of  Lindamira,  arc  but  faint  co 
pies  of  the  perfections  «f  his  patronefs. 

He  may  take  hints  for  his  prologue  from  the 
following  lines : 

"  Critics,  to-night  at  your  dread  bar  appears 
"  A  virgin-author,  aw'd  by  various  fears. 
"  Should  ye  once  hifs,  poor  man,  he  dies  away, 
"  So  much  he  trembles  for  his  firft  eflay  ; 
"  And  therefore  humbly  hopes  to  gain  your  vote 
«  —For  the  beft  play  that  ever  yet  was  wrote. 

"  Athens  and  Rome,  the  Stagirite,  old  Ben, 
"  Corneille'5  fublinuty,  exact  Racjne, 


"  Rowe's  flowing  lines,  and  Otway's  tenden 

"  .part, 
"  How  Southern  wounds,  and  Shakfpeare  tears 

"  the  heart, 
"  Rules,  nature,  ftrength,  truth,  greatnefs,  tafte, 

"  and  att,  &c.  &c.  &c. 

ACT  I. 

A  ROOM  OF  STATJt. 
The  Hero  and  his  Friend  meeting. 
[If  this  manner  of  opening  the  play,  though  almoft 
univeiially  practifed,  mould  be  thought  too  fim- 
ple  and  unaffecting,  the  curtain  may  rife  flowly 
to  foft  mufic,  and  difcover  the  hero  in  a  reclin 
ing,  penfive  poflure,  who,  upon  the  entrance  of 
his  friend,  and  the  ceafing  of  the  fymphony, 
may  ftart  from  his  couch,  and  come  forward.] 
WELCOME,  my  friend;  thy  abfence  lor^  has  torn 
My  bleeding  breaft — nor  haft  thou  heard  as  yet 
My  haplefs  ftory.  'Twas  that  fatal  morn, 
The  frighted  fun  feem'd  confcious  of  my  grief, 
And  hid  himfelf  in  clouds,  the  tuneful  birds 
Forgot  their  mufic,  &c. — O  Lyfimachus, 
Think' ft  thou  (he  e'er  can  liften  to  my  vows  ? 
Think'ft  thou  the  king  can  e'er  refufe  her  to  me  ? 
0  if  he  fhould  ! — I  cannot  bear  the  thought — 
The  fhipwreck'd  mariner,  the  tortur'd  wretch 
That  on  the  rack,  the  traveller  that  fees 
In  pathlcfs  deferts  the  pale  light's  lafl  gleam          ; 
Sink  in  the  deep  abyfs,  diftracted,  loft — 
But  foft  ye  now,  for  Lindamira  comes. 
Ah,  cruel  maid !  &c.  &c.  &c. 
And  doft  thou  yield  ?  Ye  waters,  gently  glide ; 
Wind,  catch  the  found,  O  thou  tranfcending  fair! 
Stars,  fall  from  heaven  ;  and  funs,  forget  to  rife; 
And  chaos  come,  when  Lindamira  dies ' 

[Exeunt  unbracing. 

ACT  II. 

THE  PRESENCE  CHAMBER. 

The  Hero,  folus. 

How  frail  is  man  !  what  fears,  what  doubts  per 
plex 
His  firmeft  refolutions !  Sure  the  gods  *,  &c. 

*  It  is  a  ufual  complaint  in  tragedy,  as  "well  as  in 
common  lift}  that  the  gods  have  not  made  us  as  tbeyfiould 
have  done. 


FATAL   CONSTANCY. 
'Jjut  hark  \  yon  trumpet's  fprightly  notes  declare 
The  king's  approach :  be  ftill,  my  flutt'ring  heart. 

0  royal  Sir  !  if  e'er  thy  groveling  fiave,  &c. 

[Kneeling. 

Refus'd  !  O  indignation  !  [R'J'"S  kajlily. 

Is  it  day  ? 

Do  I  behold  the  fun  ? — Thou  tyrant,  monfter— 
Down,  down  allegiance  to  the  blackeft  hell. 

1  cannot,  will  not  bear  it. — O  my  fair, 
And  art  thou  come  to  witnefs  my  difgrace  ? 
And  is  it  pofllble  that  charms  like  thine 

Could  fpring  from  fuch  a  fire  ? — Why  doft  thou 


95* 


weep 

Say,  can  a  father's  harfli  commands  controul— 
Unkind  and  cruel !  then  thou  never  lovedft. 
Curs'd  be  the  treacherous  fex,  curs'd  be  the  hour, 
Curs'd  be  the  world,  and  every  thing — but  her  ! 
By  heaven,  Ihe  faints!  Ah,  lift  thcfe  lovely  eyes, 
Turn  on  this  faithful  breaft  their  cheering  beams ! 
— O  joy  !  O  ecftafy  !  and  wilt  thou  feek 
With  me  feme  happier  land,  fome  fafer  fhore  ? 
At  night  I'll  meet  thee  in  the  palmy  grove, 
When  the  pale  moon  beams,  confcious  of  the  theft 
"—Till  then  a  long  adieu  ! 
The  merchant  thus,  &c, 

\_ExeuntfivcraHy,  languishing  at  each  oiler. 

ACT  III. 

THE  PALMY  GROVE. 
Tie  Hero,  folus. 

Night,  black-brow'd  night,  queen  of  the  ebon 

wand, 

Now  o'er  the  world  has  fpread  her  folcmn  reign. 
The  glow-worm  twinkles,  and  from  every  flower 
The  pearly  dews  return  the  pale  reflex 
Of  Cynthia's  btams,  each  drop  a  little  moon  ! 
Hark,  Lindamira  comes ! — No,  'twas  the  breath 
Of  zephyr  panting  on  the  leafy  fpray. 
Perhaps  he  lurks  in  yonder  woodbine  bower, 
To  fteal  foft  kifles  from  her  lips,  and  catch 
Ambrofial  odours  from  her  pafling  fighs. 
O  thief  I— 

She  comes ;  quick  let  us  hafte  away. 
The  guards  purfue  us  ?   heavens ! — Come  then, 

my  love, 

Fly,  fly  this  moment.     [Here  a  long  conference  upon 
Jove,  -virtue,  ike  moon,  &c.  till  the  guards  come  up. 

—Dogs,  will  ye  tear  her  from  iwe  ? 
Ye  muft  not,  fliall  not — O  my  he,art-ftrings  crack, 
My  head  turns  round,  my  ftarting  eyeballs  hang 
Upon  her  parting  fleps— I  can  no  more  — 

So  the  firft  man,  from  paradife  exil'd. 
With  fond  reluctance  leaves  the  blooming  wild : 
Around  the  birds  in  pleafing  concert  fing, 
Beneath  his  feet  th"  unbidden  flow'rets  fpring; 
On  verdant  hills  the  flocks  unnumber'd  play, 
Through  verdant  vales  meand'ring  rivers  ftray; 
Bloflbms  and  fruits  at  once  the  tree*  adorn,         ~\ 
Eternal  rofes  bloom  on  every  thorn, 
And  join  Pomona's  lap  to  Amalthzea's  horn,      j 
[Exeunt,  torn  fffvn  different Jides. 

ACT  IV. 

A  PRISON. 
The  Hero  in  Chains. 

Ye  deep,  dark  dungeons,  and  hard  prifon  walls, 
Hard  as  my  fate,  and  darkibme  as  the  grave 


To  which  I  haften,  wherefore  do  ye  bathe 
Your  rugged  bofoms  with  unwholefome  dews 
That  feem  to  weep  in  mockery  of  my  woe  ? 
— But  fee  !  fome  angel  brightnefs  breaks  the  gloom. 
'Tis  Lindamira  comes!  So  breaks  the  morn 
On  the  reviving  world.  Thou  faithful  fair! 

\Apprtacblng  to  embrace  her* 
— Curfe  on  my  fetters,  how  they  bind  my  limbs, 
Nor  will  permit  me  take  one  chafte  embrace. 
Yet  come,  O  come  ! — 

What  fay 'ft  thou  ?  Force  thee  to  it ! 
Thy  father  force  thee  to  Orofius'  arms ! 
He  cannot,  will  not,  (hall  not. — O  my  brain  ! 
.Darknefs  and  devils!  Burft  my  bonds,  ye  powers, 
That  1  may  tear  him  peacemcal  from  the  earth, 
And  fcatter  him  to  all  the  winds  of  heaven. 
—What  means  that  bell? — O  'tis  the  found  of 

death ! 

Alas,  1  had  forgot  I  was  to  die  ! 
Let  me  reflect  on  death,  &c. — 

But  what  is  death, 

Racks,  tortures,  burning  pincers,  floods  of  fire, 
What  are  ye  all  to  difappointed  love  ? 
Drag,  drag  me  hence,  ye  miniftersof  fate, 
From  the  dire  thought— Orofius  muft  enjoy  her! 
Death's  welcome  now — Orofius  muft  enjoy  her ! 
Hang  on  her  lip,  pant  on  her  breaft  ! — O  gods ! 
I  fee  the  luftful  fatyr  grafp  her  charms, 
I  fee  him  melting  in  her  amorous  arais : 
Fiends  feize  me,  furies  lafti  me,  vultures  tear. 
Hell,  horror,  madnefs,  darknefs,  and  defpair  ! 

[Runs  cjfto  execution, 

ACT  V. 

THE  AREA  BEFORE  THE  PAtACI. 
Tbe  Hero  and  Boldlcrt. 

I  thank  you,  friends ;  I  thank  you,  fellow-foldicrs : 

Ye  gave  me  liberty,  ye  gave  me  life. 

Yet  what  are  thofe  ?  Alas,  ye  cannot  give 

My  Lindamira  to  my  longing  arms. 

O  I  have  fearch'd  in  vain  the  palace  round, 

Explor'd  each  room,  andtrac'dmy  fleps  again, 

Like  good  ./Eneas  through  the  ftreets  of  Troy 

When  loft  Creufa,  &c.— 

Ha,  by  heaven  (he  comes ! 
'Tis  fhe,  'tis  fhe,  and  we  ihall  ftill  be  bleft  ! 
We  ihall,  we  (hall '. — But  why  that  heaving  breaft? 
Why  floats  that  hair  difhevcll'd  to  the  wind? 
Why  burft  the  tears  in  torrents  from  her  eyes? 
Speak,  Lindamira,  fpeak  !— 

DiftradUon!  No, 

He  could  not  dare  it.  What,  this  dreadful  night, 
When  the  dire  thunder  rattled  o'er  his  head, 
Marry  thee !  bed  thee !  force  thcc  to  be  his ! 
Defile  that  heaven  of  charms ! — What  means  thy 

rage  ? 

Thou  fhalt  not  die !  O  wreft  the  dagger  from  her! 
Thou  ftill  art  mine,  ftill,  ftill  to  me  art  pure 
As  the  foft  fleecy  fnow  on  Alpine  hills, 
Ere  the  warm  breath  of  Spring  pollutes  it*  whitc- 

nefs. 

— O  gods,  fhe  dies !  And  doft  thou  bear  me,  earth  J 
Thus,  thus  1  follow  my  adventurous  love, 
And  we  fhall  reft  together. 

Ha,  the  king ! 

But  let  him  come  ;  I  am  beyond  his  reach, 
He  cannot  curie  me  more.     See,  tyrant,  fee, 
And  triumph  in  the  mifchiefs  thou  haft  caus'ii. 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.  WHITEHEAD. 


—By  heaven  he  weeps  !  O,  if  humanity 
Can  touch  thy  flinty  heart,  hear  my  laft  prayer; 
Be  kind,  and  lay  me  in  the  fame  cold  grave 
Thus  with  my  love  ;  one  winding-fheet  (hall  hold 
Our  wretched  reliques,  and  one  marble  tomb 
Tell  our  fad  ftory  to  the  weeping  world. 
—One  kifs—  'tis  very  dark—  good  night—  heaven 
—Oh  I  [Dies. 


THE  MORAL. 


Let  cruel  fathers  learn  from  woes  like  thefe, 
To  wed  their  daughters  where  thofe  daughters 

pleafe. 

Nor  erring  mortals  hope  true  joys  to  prove, 
When  fuch  dire  ills  attend  on  virtuous  love. 


EPILOGUE. 

SPOKEN  BY  L1NOAMIRA. 

STRANGE  rules,  good  folks!  thefe  poets  are  fo  nice, 
They  turn  our  mere  amufements  into  vice. 
Lard  !  muft  we  women  of  our  lives  be  lavifli, 
Becaufe  thofe  huge  ftrong  creatures  men  will  ra- 

vifti! 

I'll  fwcar  I  thought  it  hard,  and  think  fo  flill, 
To  die  for — being  pleas'd  againil  one's  will. 


But  you,  ye  fair  and  brave,  for  virtue's  fake, 
Thefe  fpotlefs  fcenes  to  your  protection  take. 


ODES. 


ODE  I. 

»OR  HIS  "MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  NOV.  10. 1758. 
THE  ARGUMENT. 

ABOUT  the  year  963  Ottoberto,  of  the  family  of 
Efte,  pafled  from  Italy  into  Germany  with  the 
Emperor  Otho  the  Great.  Azo,  his  defcendant 
in  the  next  century,  by  marriage  with  the  daugh 
ter  of  Welfus,  Count  Aldorf,  inherited  the  do 
minions  of  the  family  in  Suabia.  Welfus,  a  fon 
of  that  marriage,  received  the  dukedom  of  Ba 
varia  from  the  emperor  Henry  the  Fourth,  in 
1061.  The  defcendants  of  Welfus  became  af 
terwards  poflefled  of  all  thofe  duchies  which  lie 
between  the  Elbe  and  the  Wefer  (Brunfwick, 
Wolfenbuttle,  Lunenburgh,  Zell,  Hanover, 
&c.) ;  and  in  the  year  1714,  George  the  Firft, 
Duke  and  Eledor  of  Hanover,  fucceedcd  to  the 
throne  of  Great  Britain. 

WHEN  Othbert  left  th'  Italian  plain, 
And  foft  Atefte's  green  domain, 
Attendant  on  imperial  fway 
Where  fame  and  Otho  led  the  way, 
The  genius  of  the  Julian  hills 

(Whofe  piny  fummits  nod  with  fnow, 
Whofe  naiads  pour  their  thoufand  rills 

To  fwell  th'  exulting  Po), 
An  eager  look  prophetic  caft, 
And  hail'd  the  hero  as  he  pafs'd. 

Hail,  all  hail,  the  woods  replied, 
And  echo  on  her  airy  tide  [fide. 

Roll'd  the  long  murmurs  down  the  mountain's 
The  voice  refum'd  again :  "  Proceed, 

"  Nor  cafl  one  ling'ring  look  behind ; 
"  By  thofe  who  toil  for  virtue's  meed, 
"  Be  every  fofter  thought  refign'd ; 
"  Nor  focial  home,  nor  genial  air, 
*'  Nor  glowing  funs,  are  worth  thy  care  : 
"  New  realms  await  thee  in  a  hardier  fky, 
"  Thee  and  thy  chofen  race  from  Azo's  nuptial  tie. 
"  *Tis  glory  wakes ;  her  active  flame 
"  Nor  time  lhall  quench,  nor  danger  tame ; 

*  George  the  Second. 


"  Nor  *  Boia's  ampleft  range  confine; 

;'  Though  Guelpho  reigns,  the  Guelphic  line. 

"  Yon  northern  ftar,  which  dimly  gleams 

"  Athwart  the  twilight  veil  of  eve, 
"  Muft  point  their  path  to  diftant  ftreams  : 

"  And  many  a  wreath  fliall  victory  weave, 
".  And  many  a  palm  (hall  fame  difplay 
*'  To  grace  the  warriors  on  their  way, 

"  Till  regions  bow  to  their  commands 
"  Where  Albis  widens  through  the  lands, 
"  And  vaft  Vifurgis  fpreads  his  golden  fands. 

"  Nor  reft  they  there.     Yon  guiding  fire 
"  Still  (nines  aloft,  and  gilds  the  main ! 
"  Not  Lion  Henry's  f  fond  defire 

"  To  grafp  th'  Italia"h  realms  again, 
"  Nor  warring  winds,  nor  wint'ry  feas, 
"  Shall  (top  the  progrefs  fate  decrees; 

"  For  lo  !  Britannia  calls  to  happier  coafts, 
"  And  vales  more  verdant  far  than  foft  Ateftc 
"  boafts. 

"  Behold,  with  euphrafy  I  clear 

"  Thy  vifual  nerve,  and  fix  it  there, 

"  Where,  crewn'd  with  rocks  grotefque  and 

"  deep, 
"  The  white  iile  rifes  o'er  the  deep  ! 


*  Bavaria. 

f  Henry  the  Lion,  Duke  of  Bavaria,  Saxony, 
&c.  was  one  of  the  greatefl  heroes  of  the  twelfth 
century.  He  united  in  bis  own  perfon  the  here 
ditary  dominions  of  five  families.  His  claims 
upon  Italy  hindered  htm  from  jtining  <witb  the 
Emperor  Frederic  the  firft,  in  his  third  attack 
upon  the  Pope,  though  he  had  ajfifted  him  in  the 
two  former  ;  for  'which  he  ivasjlripped  of  his  do~ 
minions  by  that  Emperor,  and  died  in  1195,  pof- 
fejfed  only  of  thofe  duchies  lahieh  lie  between  the 
Elb  and  the  Wefer. 

From  this  Henry,  and  a  daughter  of  Henry  the 
Second  of  England,  his  prefcnt  Majefly  it  lineally 
defceniled. 


ODES. 


957 


"  There  glory  refts.    For  there  arrire 
"  Thy  chofen  fons ;  and  there  attain 
"  To  the  firft  title  fate  can  give, 

"  The  father-kings  of  free  -born  men  ! 
"  Proceed  ;  rejoice  ;  defcend  the  vale, 
"  And  bid  the  future  monarchs  hail  1" 

Hail,  all  hail,  the  hero  cried; 
And  echo  on  her  airy  tide 

Purfued  him,  murmuring  down  the  mountain's 
fide. 

•Twas  thus,  O  king,  to  heroes  old 

The  mountains  breath'd  the  ftrain  divine, 
Ere  yet  her  volumes  Fame  enroll'd 

To  trace  the  wonders  of  thy  line  ; 
Ere  freedom  yet  on  ocean's  breaft 
Had  northward  fix'd  her  halcyon  neft ; 

Or  Albion's  oaks  defcending  to  the  main 
Had  rolPd  her  thunders  wide,  and  claim'd  the 
wat'ry  reign. 

But  now  each  Briton's  glowing  tongue 
Proclaims  the  truths  the  genius  fung, 
On  Brunfwick's  name  with  rapture  dwells, 
And  hark !  the  general  chorus  fwells : 
«'  May  years  on  happy  years  roll  o'er, 

"  Till  glory  clofe  the  mining  page, 
"  And  our  ill-fated  fons  deplore 

"  *  The  fhortnefs  of  a  Neftor's  age  ! 
"  Hail,  all  hail !  on  Albion's  plains 
*'  The  friend  of  man  and  freedom  reign*  ! 

"  Echo,  waft  the  triumph  round, 
41  Till  Gallia's  utmoft  mores  rebound, 
•'  And  all  her  bulwarks  tremble  at  the  found." 

ODE  II. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YEAR   I75P- 

If*  guardian  powers,  to  whole  command, 
At  nature's  birth,  th'  Almighty  mind 
The  delegated  tafk  affign'd 

To  watch  o'er  Albion's  favour'd  lafid, 

What  time  your  hofts  with  choral  lay, 
Emerging  from  its  kindred  deep, 
Applaufive  hail'd  each  verdant  fteep, 
And  white  rock,  glittering  to  the  new-born  day  ! 

Angelic  bands,  where'er  ye  rove 
Whilft  lock'd  in  fleep  creation  lies : 

Whether  to  genial  dews  above 
You  melt  the  congregated  fldes, 

Or  teach  the  torrent  ftreams  below 
To  wake  the  verdure  of  the  vale, 

Or  guide  the  varying  winds  that  blow 

To  fpeed  the  earning,  or  the  parting,  fail : 
Where'er  ye  bend  your  roving  flight, 
Whilft  now  the  radiant  lord  of  light 
Winds  to  the  north  his  fliding  fphere, 

Avert  each  ill,  each  bills  improve, 

And  teach  the  minutes  as  they  move 
To  blefs  the  opening  year. 

Already  Albion's  lifted  fpear, 

And  rolling  thunders  of  the  main, 
Which  juftice  facred  laws  maintain, 

Have  taught  the  haughty  Gaul  to  fear. 

*  "  Neftori*  brevitas  fencclx." 

Muftt  Angllcanee. 


On  other  earths,  in  other  (kies, 

Beyond  old  ocean's  weftern  bound, 

Though  bleeds  afrefli  th'  eternal  wound, 
Again  Britannia's  crofs  triumphant  flies. 
To  Britifh  George,  the  king  of  ifles, 

The  tribes  that  rove  th*  Arcadian  fnows, 
Redeem'd  from  Gallia's  polifh'd  wiles, 

Shall  breathe  their  voluntary  vows  : 
Where  nature  guards  her  laft  retreat, 

And  pleas'd  Aftrea  lingers  ftill ; 
While  faith  yet  triumphs  o'er  deceit, 

And  virtue  reigns,  from  ignorance  of  ill. 
Yet,  angel  powers,  though  Gallia  bend, 
Though  fame  with  all  her  wreaths,  attend 

On  bleeding  war's  tremendous  fway, 
The  fons  of  leifure  ftill  complain, 
And  rriufing  fcience  fighs  in  vain, 

For  peace  is  ftill  away. 

Go  then,  ye  faithful  guides 
Of  her  returning  fteps,  angelic  band, 
Explore  the  facred  feats  where  peace  refides, 

And  waves  her  olive  wand. 
Bid  her  the  waftes  of  war  repair. 
— O  fouthward  feek  the  flying  fair, 
For  not  on  poor  Germania's  harais'd  plain, 

Nor  where  the  Viftula's  proud  current  fwells. 
Nor  on  the  borders  of  the  frighted  Seine, 
Nor  in  the   depths    of  Ruilia's   fnows  me 

dwells. 

Yet  O,  where'er,  deferting  freedom's  ifle, 
She  gilds  the  flave's  delufive  toil ; 
Whether  on  Ebro's  banks  flic  ftrays, 
Or  fighing  traces  Taio's  winding  ways, 

Or  foft  Aufonia's  fliores  her  feet  detain, 
O  bring  the  wanderer  back,  with  glory  in  hei 
train. 

ODE  HI. 

toy.  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAT, 

November  10.  1759. 
BICIK  the  fong— Ye  fubjedl  choirs, 
The  bard  whom  liberty  infpires 
Wakes  into  willing  voice  th'  accordant  lays.— « 
Say,  ftiall  we  trace  the  hero's  flame 
From  the  firft  foft'ring  gale  of  fame, 
Which  bade  the  expanding  bofora   pant  fop 

praife  ? 

Or  hail  the  ftar  whofe  orient  beam 
Shed  influence  on  his  natal  hour, 
What  time  the  nymphs  of  Leyna's  ftream, 

Emerging  from  their  wat'ry  bower, 
Sung  their  foft  carols  through  each  slier  (hade. 
And  for  the  pregnant  fair  invok'd  Lucina's  aid  } 

No.     Hafte  to  Scheld's  admiring  wave, 

Diftinguifh'd  amidft  thoufands  brave, 
Where  the  young  warrior  flem'd    his  eager 
fword : 

While  Albion's  troops  with  rapture  view'd 
The  ranks  confus'd,  the  Gaul  fubdu'd, 
And  hail'd,  prophetic  hail'd,  their  future  lord, 
Waiting  the  chief's  maturer  nod, 

On  his  plum'd  helmet  vicl'ry  fate, 
While  fuppltant  nations  round  him  bow'd» 

And  Auftria  trembled  for  her  fate, 


,S8 

Till,  at  his  bidding  (laughter  fwell'd  the  Mayne, 
And  half  her  blooming  fons  proud  Gallia  wept  in 


But  what  are  wreaths  in  battle  won? 
And  what  the  tribute  of  amaze 
Which  man  too  oft  miftaken  pays 
To  the  vain  idol  fhrine  of  falfe  renown  ? 
The  nobleft  wreaths  the  monarch  wears 
Are  thofe  his  virtuous  rule  demands, 
Unftain'd  by  widows'  or  by  orphans'  tears, 

And  woven  by  his  fubjects'  hands. 

Comets  may  rife,  and  wonder  mark  their  way 

Above  the  bounds  of  nature's  fober  laws, 

But 'tis  th'  all-cheering  lamp  of  day, 
'  The  permanent,  th'  unerring  caufe, 
By  whom  th'  enliven'd  world  its  courfe  main 
tains, 

By  whom  all  nature  fmiles,  and  beauteous  order 
reigns. 

ODE  IV. 

FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR,    1760. 

AGAIN  the  fun's  revolving  fphere 
Wakes  into  life  th'  impatient  year, 

The  white-wing'd  minutes  hafte  : 
And,  fpite  of  fortune's  fickle  wheel, 
Th'  eternal  fates  have  fix'd  their  feal 

Upon  the  glories  of  the  part. 
Sufpended  high  in  memory's  fane, 

Beyond  ev'n  envy's  foaring  rage, 
The  deeds  furvive,  to  breathe  again 

In  faithful  hiftory's  future  page  ; 
Where  diftant  times  (ball  wond'ring  read 

Of  Albion's  ftrength,  of  battles  won, 
Of  faith  reftor'd,  of  nations  freed  ; 

Whilft  round  the  globe  her  conquefts  run, 
From  the  firft  blufti  of  orient  day, 

To  where  defcend  his  noontide  beams, 

On  fable  Afric's  golden  ftreams, 
And  where  at  eve  the  gradual  gleams  decay. 

So  much  already  haft  thou  prov'd 
Of  fair  fuccefs,  O  beft  belov'd, 

O  firft  of  favour'd  ifles  l. 
What  can  thy  fate  aflign  thee  more, 
What  whiter  boon  has  Heaven  in  ftore, 

To  blefs  thy  monarch's  ceafelefs  toils  ? 
Each  rifing  feafon,  as  it  flows, 

Each  month  exerts  a  rival  claim; 
Each  day  with  expectation  glows, 

Each  fleeting  hour  demands  its  fame. 
Around  thy  genius  waiting  ftands 

Each  future  child  of  anxious  time  : 
§ee  how  they  prefs  in  fhadowy  bands, 

As  from  thy  fleecy  rocks  fublime 
He  rolls  around  prophetic  eyes, 

And  earth,  and  fea,  and  Heaven  furveys: 
"  O  grant  a  portion  of  thy  praife  '. 
"  O  bid  us  all,''  they  cry,  "  with  luftre  rife  !" 

Genius  of  Albion,  hear  their  prayer, 
O  bid  them  all  with  luftre  rife  '. 

Beneath  thy  tutelary  care, 
The  brave,  the  virtuous,  and  the  wife, 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.   WHITEHEAD. 


Shalt  mark  each  moment's  winged  fpeed 

With  fomething  that  dii'dains  to  die, 
The  hero's,  patriot's,  poet's  meed, 

And  paflport  to  eternity  1 
Around  thy  rocks  while  ocean  raves, 
While  yonder  fun  revolves  his  radiant  car, 
The  land  of  freedom  with  the  land  of  (laves, 
As  nature's  friends,  muft  wage  illuftrious  war. 
Then  be  each  deed  with  glory  crown'd, 
Till  fmiling  peace  refume  her  throne; 
Till  not  on  Albion's  fliores  alone 
The  voice  of  freedom  (hall  refound, 
But  every  realm  fliall  equal  blellings  find, 
And  man  enjoy  the  birth-right  of  his  kind. 

ODE  V. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YZAK,     i;6l. 

STILL  mud  the  mufe,  indignant,  hear 

The  clanging  trump,  the  rattling  car, 
And  uflier  in  each  opening  year 

With  groans  of  death,  and  founds  of  war? 
O'er  bleeding  millions,  realms  oppreft, 
The  tuneful  mourner  finks  diitreit, 

Or  breathes  but  notes  of  woe  : 
And  cannot  Gallia  learn  to  melt, 
Nor  feei  what  Britain  long  has  felt 

For  her  infulting  foe  ? 
Amidft  her  native  rocks  fecure, 

Her  floating  bulwarks  hovering  round, 
What  can  the  fea-girt  realm  endure, 

What  dread,  through  all  her  wat'ry  bound  ? 
Great  queen  of  ocean,  fhe  defies 
All  but  the  power  who  rules  the  fkies, 

And  bids  the  itorms  engage  ; 
Inferior  foes  are  dafti'd  and  loft. 
As  breaks  the  white  wave  on  her  coaft 

Confum'd  in  idle  rage. 
For  alien  forrows  heaves  her  generous  breaft, 

She  proffers  peace  to  eafe  a  rival's  pain  : 
Her  crowded  ports,  her  fields  in  plenty  dreft, 

Blefs  the  glad  merchant,  and  th*  induitriou? 

fwain. 
Do  blooming  youths  in  battle  fall  ? 

True  to  their  fame  the  funeral  urn  we  raife  ;• 
And  thoufands,  at  the  glorious  call, 

Afpire  to  equal  praife. 

Thee,  glory,  thee  through  climes  unknown 

Th'  adventurous  chief  with  zeal  purfues; 
And  fame  brings  back  from  every  zone 

Frefh  ("objects  for  the  Britiih  mufe. 
Tremendous  as  th'  ill-omen'd  bird 
To  frighted  France  thy  voice  was  heard 

From  Minden's  echoing  towers  : 
O'er  Bifcay'sroar  thy  voice  prevail'd; 
And  at  thy  word  the  rocks  we  fcal'd, 

And  Canada  is  ours. 
O  potent  queen  of  every  breaft 

Which  aims  at  praife  by  virtuous  deeds., 
Where'er  thy  influence  (bines  confeft 

The  hero  acts,  th'  event  fucceeds. 
But  ah,  muft  glory  only  bear, 
Bellona-like,  the  vengeful  fpeat  3 

To  fill  her  mighty  aoirtd 


ODES. 


Muft  bulwarks  fall,  and  cities  flame, 
And  is  her  ampleft  field  of  fame 

The  miferies  of  mankind  ? 
On  ruins  pil'd  on  ruins  muft  (he  rife, 

And  lend  her  rays  to  gild  her  fatal  throne  ? 
Muft  the  mild  power  who  melts  in  vernal  Ikies, 

By  thunders  only  make  his  godhead  known  ? 

No,  be  the  omen  far  away ; 
From  yonder  pregnant  cloud  a  kinder  gleam, 

Though  faintly  ftruggling  into  day, 
Portends  a  happier  theme  !— 

—And  who  is  he,  of  regal  mien, 

Reclin'd  on  Albion's  golden  fleece, 
Whofe  polilh'd  brow  and  eye  ferene 

Proclaim  him  elder-born  of  peace  ? 
Another  George  ! — Ye  winds  convey 

Th'  aufpicious  name  from  pole  to  pole  ! 
Thames,  catch  the  found,  and  tell  the  fubject  fea 
Beneath  whofe  fway  its  waters  roll, 
The  hoary  monarch  of  the  deep, 
Who  footh'd  its  murmurs  with  a  father's  care, 

Doth  now  eternal  Sabbath  keep, 
And  leaves  his  trident  to  his  blooming  heir. 
O,  if  the  miife  aright  divine. 

Fair  peace  (hall  blefs  his  opening  reign, 
And  through  its  fplendid  progrefs  mine, 

With  every  art  to  grace  her  train. 
The  wreaths  fo  late  by  glory  won, 
Shall  weave  their  foliage  round  his  throne, 
Till  kings,  abafli'd,  (hall  tremble  to  be  foes, 
And  Albion's  dreaded  ftrength  fecure  the  world's 
repofe. 

ODE  VI. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1761. 

'TWAS  at  the  neclar'd  feaft  of  Jove, 

When  fair  Alcmena's  fon 
His  deftin'd  courfe  on  earth  had  run 

And  claim'd  the  thrones  above, 
Around  their  king  in  deep  debate, 
Conven'd,  the  heavenly  lynod  fate, 
And  meditated  boons  refin'd 
To  grace  the  friend  of  human  kind  : 
When  lo,  to  mark  th*  advancing  god, 
Propitious  Hermes  ftretch'd  his  roid, 

The  roofs  with  mufic  rung  '. 
For,  from  amidd  the  circling  choir, 
Apollo  (truck  th'  alarming  lyre, 

And  thus  the  mules  fung  : 
"  What  boon  divine  would  Heav'n  beftow  ? 
"  Ye  gods  unbend  the  ftudious  bow, 

"  The  fruitlefs  fearch  give  o'er, 
"  Whilft  we  the  jutl  reward  aflign, 
"  Let  Hercules  with  Hebe  join, 

'*  And  youth  unite  with  power '." 

O  facred  truth  in  emblem  dreft ! 

Again  the  Mufes  ling, 
Again  in  Britain's  blooming  king 

Alcides  (lands  confed. 
By  temp'rance  nurs'd,  and  early  taught 
To  (him  the  f  mooth  fallacious  draught 
Which  fparkles  high  in  Circe's  bowl ; 
To  tame  each  hydra  of  the  foul, 


Each  lurking  peft,  which  mocks  its  birth, 
And  ties  his  fpirit  down  to  earth, 

Immers'd  in  mortal  coil ; 
His  choice  was  that  feverer  road 
Which  leads  to  virtue's  calm  abode, 

And  well  repays  the  toil.     ' 
In  vain  ye  tempt,  ye  fpecious  harms, 
Ye  flow'ry  wiles,  ye  flatt'ring  charms, 

That  breathe  from  yonder  bower  ; 
And  Heav'n  the  juft  reward  atfigns, 
For  Hercules  with  Hebe  joim, 

And  youth  unites  with  power. 

O,  call'd  by  Heav'n  to  fill  that  awful  throne, 
Where  Edward,  Henry,  William,  George,  have 

(hone, 
(Where  love  with  rev'rence,  laws  with  power 

agree, 

And  'tis  each  fubjecl's  birthright  to  be  free) 
The  faired  wreaths  already  won 

Are  but  a  prelude  to  the  whole: 
Thy  arduous  ta(k  is  now  begun, 

And,  darting  from  a  nobler  goal, 
Heroes  and  kings  of  ages  pad 

Are  thy  compeers  :  extended  high 
The  trump  of  fame  expects  the  blaft, 

The  radiant  lids  before  thee  lie, 
The  field  is  time,  the  prize  eternity  '. 
'Beyond  example's  bounded  light 
*Tis  time  to  urge  thy  daring  flight, 

And  heights  untry'd  explore  : 
O  think  what  thou  alone  can'd  give, 
What  bleflings  Britain  may  receive 
When  youth  unites  with  power. 

ODE  VII. 

FOR  THE  NEW.YEAR  f]62, 

GOD  of  daughter,  quit  the  fcene, 

Lay  the  creded  helmet  by ; 
Love  commands,  and  beauty's  queen 

Rules  the  power  who  rules  the  Iky. 
Janus,  with  well-omen'd  grace, 

Mounts  the  year's  revolving  car. 
And  forward  turns  his  fmiling  face, 

And  longs  to  clofe  the  gates  of  war. 
Enough  of  glory  Albion  knows.— 
Gome,  ye  powers  of  fweet  repofe, 

On  downy  pinions  move  I 
Let  the  war-worn  legions  own 
Your  gentler  fway,  and  from  the  throne 
Receive  the  laws  of  love  I 

Yet,  if  judice  dill  requires 

Roman  arts,  and  Roman  fouls, 
Britain  breathes  her  wonted  fires, 

And  her  wonted  thunders  rolls. 
Added  to  our  fairer  ifle 

Gallia  mourns  her  bulwark  gone: 
Conqued  pays  the  price  of  toil, 

Either  India  is  our  own. 
Ye  fons  of  freedom,  grafp  the  fword ; 
Pour,  ye  rich,  th'  imprifon'd  hoard, 

And  teach  it  how  to  mine  : 
Each  felnfli,  each  contracted  aim 
To  glory's  more  exalted  claim 

Let  luxury  refign. 


THE   WORKS  OF  W.   WHITEHEAD. 


You  too,  ye  Britifli  dames,  may  (hare 
If  not  the  toils,  and  dangers  of  the  war, 
At  leaft  its  glory.     From  the  Baltic  fliore, 
From  Runic  virtue's  native  fliore, 
Fraught  with  the  tales  or"  ancient  lore, 
Behold  a  fair  inttrudrrefs  come  ! 
"When  the  fierce  *  female  tyrant  of  the  north 
Claim'd  every  realm  her  conquering  arms  could 

gain, 

When  difcord,  red  with  flaughter,  ifTuing  forth, 
Saw  Albert  ftruggling  with  the  vigor's  chain ; 
The  florin  beat  high,  and  lliook  the  coaft, 

Th'  exhaufted  treasures  of  the  land 
Could  fcarce  fupply  th'  em!?attled  hoft, 
Or  pay  th'  infiilting  foe's  demand. 
What  then  could  beauty  do  ?  f  She  gave 
Her  treafur'd  tribute  'tttthe  brave, 
To  her  own  foftnels  join'd^he  manly  heart, 
Suilain'd  the  foldier's  drooping  arms, 
Confided  in  her  genuine  chatms, 
And  yielded  every  ornament  of  art. 

—We  want  them  not.     Yet,  O  ye  fair,  ' 

Should  Gallia,  obltinately  vain,,' 
To  her  own  ruin  urge  defpair, 
And  brave  tJi'  acknowleclg'd  matters  of  the  main  : 
Should  (he  through  ling'ring  years  protract  her 

fall, 
Through  leas  of  blood  to  her  deftruc"r.ion  wade, 

Say,  could  ye" 'feel  tfte  generous  call,     . 
And  own  the  fair  example  here  pourtray'd? 

Doubtlefs  ye  could.     The  royal  dame 
Would  plead  her  dear  adopted  country's  caufe, 
And  each  indignant  breaft  unite  its  flame, 
To  fave  the  land  of  liberty  and  laws. 

ODE  VIJI. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-»AY,  JUNE  4.  1762. 

"  Go  Flora"  (faid  the  impatient  queen 
Who  (hares  great  Jove's  eternal  reign) 

"  Go  breathe  on  yonder  thorn  : 
•*  Wake  into  bloom  th'  emerging  rofe, 
"  And  let  the  faired  flower  that  blows 

"  The  faireft  month  adorn. 
"  Sacred  to  me  that  month, mail  rife, 
"  Whatever  J  contefts  (hake  the  Ikies 

'*  To  give  that  month  a  name  :•  *f 
«'  Her  April  buds  let  Venus  boaft, 
"  Let  Maia  range  her  painted  hoft: 

"  But  June  is  Juno's  claim. 

"  And  goddefs,  know,  in  after-times 
"  (I  name  not  days,  I  name  not  climes) 

*  Margaret  de  Waldemar,  commonly  called  tbe 
Semiramis  of  tbe  North. 

f  In  tbe  year  1395,  the~ladiet  of  Mecklenburgh* 
tofupport  their  Duke  Albert's  pretenjioris  to  the 
crown  of  Sweden,  and  t'j  redeem  bim  when  he 
was  taken  prifoner,  gave  up1  all  their  jewels  to 
the  public  ;  fir  'which  they  afterwards  received 
great  emoluments  and  privileges,  particularly  the 
right  offuccejjioii  in  fiefs,  which  had  before  been 
appropriated  to  mdles  only.^ 

J  Alluding  to  tbe  contention  between  tht 
goddejfes  in  Ovid's  Faflit  about  naming  the  month 
of  June. 


"  From  nature's  nobleft  throes 
"  A  human  flower  (bull  glad  the  earth, 
"  And  the  lame  month  difclofe  his  birth, 

"  Which  bears  the  blufhiag  rofe. 
"  Nations  /hall  blefs  his  mild -command, 
"  And  fragrance  fill  th'  exulting  land, 

"   Where'er  I  fix  his  throne."— — 
Britannia  liiten'd  as  Ihe  fpoke, 
And  from  her  lips  prophetic  broke, 

"  The  flower  lliall  be  my  own.". 

O  goddefs  of  cunnubial  love, 
Thou  filler,' and  thou  \vife  of  Jove,  >    ' 

To  thee  the  1'uppliant  voice  we  raife  '. 
We  name  not  months,  we  name  not  days* 
For  where  thy  finiles  propitious  fliine, 
The  whole  prolific  year  is  thine. 
Accordant  to  the  trembling  it  rings. 

Hark,  the  generaf  choru> -fweLls, 
From  every  heart  it  fprings,  « 

On  every  tongue  "it  dwells. 
Godtleis  of  connubial  love, 
Sifter  thou,  and  wife  of  Jove, 
Bid  th£;genial  powers  that  glide.  v 

On  ether's  all-pervading  tide, 

Or  from  the  fount  of  life  that  ftream 

Mingling  with  the  folar  beam 

Bid  them  here  at  virtue's  flirine, 

•In  chattelt  bands  of  union  join. 
•Till  many  a  George  and  many  a  Charlotte  prove* 
How  much  to  thee  we  owe,  queen  of  connubial 
love! 

r  -.*  ' 

ODE  IX. 

FOR  TBlt    KEW-TKAR  Ij6^. 

AT  length  th'  imperious  lord  of  war 
Yields  to  the  fates  their  ebon  car, 

And  frowning  quits  his  toil: 
Dafh'd  from  his  hand  the  bleeding  fpeaf 
Now  deigns  a  happier  form  to  wear, 

And  peaceful  turns  the  foil. 
Th'  infatiate-Fiiries  of  his  train, 
Revenge  and  hate,  and  fell  difdain, 

With  heart' . of  fteel,  and  eyes  of  fire, 
•Who  ftain  the  fword  which  honour,*  draws» 
*Who  fully  virtue's  facred  caufe, 

To  Stygian  depths  retire. 
Unholy  lliapes,  and  fhadows  drear, 
,.      The  pa-Hid  family  of  fearj 

And  rapine,  Mill  with  fhrieks  purfued, 
Ahd  meagre  famine's  fqualid  brood 
Clofe  the  dire  crew. — Ye  eftrnal  gates  difplajr 
Your  adamantine  folds,  and  (hut  them  from  the 
day  ! 

For  lo,  in  yonder  pregnant  fkies 

On  billowy  clouds  the  goddefs  lies, 
Whofe  prefence  breathes  delight, 

Whofe  power  th'  obfequious  fealons  own, 

And  Winter  lofes  half  his  frown, 

And  half  her  (hades  the  night, 
Soft-fmiling  peace  I  whom  Venus  bore, 
When  tutor'd  by  th'  enchanting  lore 
.   Of  Maia's  blooming  Con, 
She  footh'd  the  tynod  of  the  gods. 
Drove  difcord  from  -the  bleft  abodes, 
And  Jove  refum'd  his  throne. 


O    D    £    S. 


Th1  attendant  graces  gird  her  round, 
And  fporiveeafe,  with-lbnis  unbound, 
And  every  mufe  to  leifure  born, 
•    And  nlervty,  with  her  twitted  horn, 
\Vhile  changeful  commerce   fpreads  hrsfloofen'd 
fails.  .  [vrJN! 

Blow  as  ye  lift,  ye  winds,  the  reign  of  peace  pre- 

And  Ion-,  to  grace  that  milder  reign, 
And  add  ;  year, 

'..  Sfr'eet  inn.  I  *the  :rsin, 

In  form  »:r:i  feature?,  s  All  ion's  heir! 
A  future  George  .' — i!r;>:,ni'j".s  powe*>,       % 

Ye  delegates  of  heaven's  high  King, 
Who  guide  the  years,  the  days,  the  hours 

That  fioar  on  time's  nr.igrr-tfive  wing, 
•     Exert  your  influence,  bid  us  know 
From  parent  worth  what  virtues  flow  ! 
Be  to  lefs  happy  r«ain>s  refi^n'd 

The  .warrior's  nnr  !,  :i;in^  rage, 
We  afk  not  kings  ni~  hero-kind, 

The  florins  and  earthquakes  of  their  age. 
To  us  he  nobler  ble'lings  given  : 
O  teach  <is,  delegates  of  Heaven, 
What  mightier  blifs  from  .union  fprings! 

Fur  are  iV.hjecls,  future  kings. 
Shall  blefs  the  fair  example  ihown, 
And  from  our  character  trapu-ri.be  their  own  : 

"  A  people  zeaiou-s  to  obey  ; 

"  A  monarch  whole  parental  fway 

*  "  Defpifes  segal  art:; 

"  His  (hitrkr;  the  laws  which  guard  the  land; 
"  His  fword,  each  Briton's  eii^c-r  hand, 
41  His  throne,  each  Briton's  heart." 

ODE  X. 
voTi-nis  MAJESTY'S  BIHTII-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1753. 

COMMON  births,  like  common  things, 

-  Pars  unheeded  ofunkno- 

Time  but  fpftods  or  wuveHiK  wiri 

The  phantom  fwelh,  the  phantom's  gone  ! 
Bern  for  million*,  monarchs  rife, 

Heirs  of  infamy  or  fun.c. 
When  the  virtuous,  brave,  of  wife, 

Demand  our  praife,  wich  loud  acclaim, 
We  twine  the  feftive  wreath,  the  (brines  adorn, 

.  'tis  Btituit.'s  nat: 
Blight  exanirples  .pln^'d  on  !• 

Shine  with  irftjre  diftin;;>.>iili'd'bLii;e  ;• 
Thither  nations  turn  their  eye, 

An'l  growvirtuou?  as  they  gaze. 
THooghtlefs  eafe  and  fportive  ieifnrc, 

Dwell  in  life's  Contracted  fpbere; 
.'  Pafolic  i>  ib«  monarch's  pleafure, 

Public  rs  the  -monarch's  care  : 
If  Titus  fmiles,  the  pbfcrvant  world  is  gay  ; 
If  Titus  frowns  qr  iighs,  ivc  figh  and  lt*e  a  day  ! 

Around  their  couch,  around  /their  board, 

A  thoufand  ears  attentive  wait, 
A  thoufand  bufy  tongues  record 

The  fmalleft  whifpers  of  the  great. 
Happy  thofe  whom  truth  fincere 

And  confcious  vii tue  join  to  guide  1 
Can  they  have  a  foe  to  fear, 

Can  they  -have  a  liior.gat  to  hide  ? 

•Vol.  XI.  -     ' 


Nobly  they  fonr  above -th'  admiring  throng, 
Superior  to  the  ]>o\vrr,  the  will  wf  arling  wvong, 
Such  may  Britain  find  her  kings! — 
S'.ich  the  mule  *  of  rapid  wings 
Wafts  to  forae  fubHmer  fphere  : 
Gods  and  heroes  mingle  rhere. 
FameN  eternal  accents  breathe, 
Black  Cocytiis  howis  txjueath  ; 
Ev'n  rt-.alice  ler.rns  to  blufh,  and  hides  her  ftings. 
— O  fuch  may  Britain  ever,  ti;ul  her  kings  1 

ODE  XL 

FOR  TKF.  NEW-YEAR  1763. 

SACKED  to 
O  c  >n»"rbi  rCe,  ii::ughter  of  fw«et  Jiberty, 

&hail  l!o\v  the  ;;nrn;ai  (train  '.  - 
Hcric-ath  a  'monarch's,  fader  ing  care 
Thy  laUs  u-iiiumbpr'd  fwctl  in  air, 

.  Ancj  darken  h:ilf  the  matt). 
Fr  -m  every  cKft'of  Britain's  coafts 
-    them  toil,  thy  daring  hofts 
VVho  bid 'our  wealth  increafe. 
Who  fprc-ads  ftur  mart'-ai  glory  far, — 
The  fons  pf  foi  iititfie  iii  war, 
Of  induiity  i 
On  \>'oven 
To  where,  in  orient  clime,  the  gray  dawn  fprings, 

To  where  foft  evening's  ray 
Sheds  its'laft  (>{u(b^  Uieir"  coiirle  tlfey  fteer,-   .4! 
Meet,  or  o'ertakrt^Hie  circling  year, 

Led  by  the  lord  of  day. 
Whaler  tlie  frozen  .poles  provide, 
\\"ivite'or  the  torrid  reigions  hide 

From  Sinius'  fiercer  flames, 
Of  herb,  or  root,  or  g*m,  or  ore, 
They  grafp  them  -ill  from  fliore  to  fliore, 

And  waft  them  al*  to  Thames. 
When  Spain's  proud    pendants  wav'd  in 


When  Gprria's  fleet  on  Indian  billows  hung, 
In  either  ft-a  did  ovear.'s  gmius  rife,  . 
And  th"  i~am«-  truths  in  the  fame  numbers  fang. 

"  'Oaring  mort.ifs,  whither  tend 
"  Th-fr  vain  purf  .1^?   Forbear,  forbear  ! 

'•  Thfife  fricr;:d  waves.no  keel  fball  rend, 
"  >y  f'eat  on  this  feque'tter'd  air  '. 

'•  r~L-~\  •  -oi-fl,  and  conquer  too  ; 

'•  Su.    ej's  be  yoursj    15 ut-  mortals,  know, 
"  Know,  -nturous  bands, 

••  To  i  <lo\vti  pride, 

r  native  lands, 
"  You  brave  t1.  -aid  you  item  the 

ti.l.  . 

•     "  Nor  B  -tio%,  nor  Tneni-'  iiream, 
"  Noi  len  gleam, 

"  Shall  lulu!,  ntly  Cjali  their  ov. n 
"The  i  c  truauires  of  thefe  worlds  un^. 

'-'  i:iv,-- 

"  A  chofen  race  to  freedom  dear, 
"  Untaught  to  ir.jiiie  as  to  tear, 
"  B-.r  n:i'  condjcl"d,  fliali  <.::ert  their  claims, 
"  Shall  j;.lut  my  great  revenge,  and  roll  them  all 
>:  10  "ihuinics." 


THE   WORKS    OF   W.  WHITEHEAD. 


ODE  XII. 

TOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1765. 

HAIL  to  the  rofy  morn,  whofe  ray 
To  luftre  wakes  th*  aufpicious  day, 

,  Which  Britain  holds  fo  dear  ! 
To  this  fair  month  of  right  belong 
The  feftive  dance,  the  choral  long, 

And  paftimesof  the  year. 
Whate'er  the  wint'ry  colds  prepar'd, 
Whate'er  the  fpring  but  faintly  rear'd, 

Now  wears  its  brighteft  bloom  ; 
A  brighter  biue  enrobes  the  ikies, 
From  laughing  fields  the  zephyrs  rife 

On  wings  that  breathe  perfume. 
The  lark  in  air  that  warbling  floats, 
The  wood-birds  with  their  tuneful  throats, 
The  II  reams  that  murmur  as  they  flow, 
The  flocks  that  rove  the  mountain's  brow, 
The  herds  that  through  the  meadows  play, 
Proclaim  'tis  nature's  holiday  ! 
And  (hall  the  Britifti  lyre  be  mute, 

Nor  thrill  through  all  its  trembling  firings, 
With  oaten  reed,  and  paftoral  flute, 

Whilft  every  vale  refponfiye  rings? 
To  him  we  pour  the  grateful  lay, 

Who  makes  the  leafon  doubly  gay  : 
.For  whom  fo  late,  our  lifted  eyes 
"With  tears  befought  the  pitying  fkies. 
And  won  tli*  cherub  health  to  crown 

A  nation's  prayer,  and  eafe  that  bread 
WhJch  feels  all  forrows  but  its  own, 
And  feeks  by  bleffing  to  be  bleft. 
Fled  are  all  the  ghaftly  train, 

Writhing  pain,  and  pale  difeafe  ; 
Joy  refumes  his  wonted  reign, 

The  fun-beams  mingle  with  the  breeze, 

And  his  own  month,  which  health's  gay  livery 

wears,  [years. 

On  the  Iweet  profpect  fmiles  of  long  [fucceeding 

ODE  XIII. 

TOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1766. 
HAIL  to  the  man,  fo  fings  the  Hebrew  bard, 
Whole    numerous    offspring   grace    his  genial 

board: 
Heaven's  faireft  gift,  Heaven's  bed  reward, 

To  thofe  who  honour,  who  obey  his  word. 
What  fliall  he  fear,  though  drooping  age 

Unnerve  his  flrength,  and  pointlefs  fink  his  fpear; 
In  vain  the  proud,  in  vain  the  mad  fliall  rage  j 
He  fears  his  God  and  knows  no  other  fear. 
Lo  !  at  his  call  a  duteous  race 
Spring  eager  from  his  lov'd  embrace, 
To  fliield  the  fire  from  whom  their  virtues  rofe; 
And  fly  at  each  fever'd  command, 
Like  arrows  from"- the  giant's  hand, 

Ifi  vengeance  o'n  his  foes. 
So  Edward  fought  on  Creffy's  bleeding  plain, 
A  blooming  hero,  great  beyond  his  years. 

So  William  fought — But  ceafe  the  ftrain, 
A  lofs  fo  recent  bathes  the  mufe  in  tears. 

So  (hall  hereafter  every  ion, — 
Who  now  with  prattling  infancy  relieves 

Thofe  anxious  cares  which  wait  upon  a  throne, 
Where,  ah,  too  ofr,  amidit  the  myrtles,  weaves 


The  thorn  its  pointed  anguifh — So 
Shall  every  youth  his  duty  know 
To  guard  the  monarch's  right,  and  people's  weal ; 
And  thou,  great  George,  with  juft  regard, 
To  Heav'n,  flialt  own  the  Hebrew  bard 
But  fang  the  truths  you  feel. 

Bleft  be  the  day  which  gave  thee  birth  '. 
Let  others  tear  the  ravag'd  earth, 
And  fell  ambition's  powers  appear 
In  florins,  which  defolate  the  year. 
Confefs'd  thy  milder  virtues  fnine, 
Thou  rul'ft  indeed,  our  hearts  are  thine. 
By  (lender  ties  pur  kings  of  old 
Their  fabled  right  divine  would  vainly  hold. 
Thy  ju(ler  claim  ev'n  freedom's  fons  can  love, 
The  king  who  bends  to  Heav'n,  rauft   Heav'n  it- 
lelf  approve. 

ODE  XIV. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YEAR    1767. 

WHEN  firft  the  rude  o'er-peopled  north 
Pour'd  his  prolific  offspring  torth, 
At  large  in  alien  climes  to  roam,- 
And  feek  a  newer  better  home. 

From  the  bleak  mountain's  barren  head. 
The  marfhy  vale,  th'  ungrateful  plain. 
From  cold  and  penury  they  fled 
To  warmer  funs,  and  Ceres'  golden  reign. 
At  every  ftep  the  breezes  blew 
Soft  and  more  foft :  the  lengthen'd  view 

Did  fairer  fcenes  expand : 
Unconfcious  of  approaching  foes, 
The  farm,  the  town,  the  city  rofe, 

To  tempt  the  fpoiler's  hand. 
Not  Britain's  fo.     For  nobler  ends 
Her  willing  daring  fons  (he  fends, 
Fraught  like  the  fabled  car  of  old, 
Which  fcatter'd  bleffings  a$  it  roll'd. 

From  cultur'd  fields,  from  fleecy  downs, 
From  vales  that  wear  eternal  bloom, 
From  peopled  farms,  and  buiy  towns, 
Where,  fhines  the  ploughfhare,  and  where  founds 

the  loom, 

To  fandy  deferts,  pathlefs  woods, 
Impending  fteeps,  and  headlong  floods, 

She  fends  th'  induftrious  fwarm  : 
To  where  felf-ftrangled  nature  lies, 
Till  focial  art  fliall  bid  her  rife 

From  Chaos  into  form- 
Thus  George  and  Britain  blefs  mankind.— 
And  left  "the  parent  realm  fliould  find 
Her  numbers  flirink,  with  flag  unfurl'd 
She  (lands,  th'  afylum  of  the  world. 

From  foreign  ftrands  new  fubje<£ls  come, 
New  arts  accede  a  thoufand  ways, 

For  here  the  wretched  finds  a  home, 
And  all  her  portals  charity  difplays. 

From  each  proud  mailer's  hard  command, 
From  tyrant  zeal's oppreffive  hand, 

What  eager  exiles  fly  ! 
"  Give  us,  they  cry,  'tis  nature's  caufe, 
"  O  give  us  liberty  and  laws 
"  Beneath  a-harfher  iky  !" 

Thus  George  and  Britain  blefs  mankind.— 
A'.vay,  ye  barks  j  the  favouring  wind 


ODE 


Springs  from  the  eaft ;  ye  prows,  divide 
The  vaft  Atlantic's  heaving  tide  ! 

Britannia  from  each  rocky  height 
Purfues  you  with  applauding  hands: 

Afar,  impatient  for  the  freight, 
See  !  the  whole  weftern  world  expecting  (lands  ! 
Already  fancy  paints  each  plain, 
The  cleferts  nod  with  golden  grain, 

The  wond'ring  vales  look  gay, 
The  woodman's  ftroke  the  forelts  feel, 
The  lakes  admit  the  merchant's  keel- 
Away,  ye  barks,  away  ! 

ODE  XV. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1767. 

FRIEND  to  the  poor  ! — for  fure,  O  king,. 

That  godlike  attribute  is  thine — 
Friend  to  the  poor;  to  thee  we  fing, 
To  thee  our  annual  offerings  bring, 

And  bend  at  mercy's  Ihrine. 
In  vain  had  nature  deign'd  to  fmile 
Propitious  on  our  favourite  ifle 

Emerging  from  the  main  : 
In  vain  the  genial  fource  of  day 
Selected  each  indulgent  ray 

For  Britain's  fertile  plain  : 
In  vain  yon  bright  furrounding  fkies 
Bade  all  their  clouds  in  volumes  rife, 

Their  foft'ring  dews  diftill'd  : 
In  vain  the  wide  and  teeming  earth 
Gave  all  her  buried  treafures  birth, 

And  crowned  the  laughing  field  : 
For  lo  '.  fome  fiend,  in  evil  hour 

Affuming  famine's  horrid  mien, 
Diffus'd  her  petrifying  power 
O'er  thoughtlefs  plenty's  feftive  bower, 

And  blarted  every  green. 
Strong  panic  terrors  (hook  the  land; 
Th'  obdurate  brealt,  the  griping  hand  ' 

Were  alnaoft  taught  to  fpare  ; 
For  loud  mifrule,  the  fcourge  of  crimes, 
Mix'd  with  the  madnefs  of  the  times, 

And  rous'd  a  ruftic  war. " 
Whilft  real  want,  with  figh  fincere, 
At  home,  in  filence,  dropp'd  the  tear, 

Or  raisM  th'  imploring  eye, 
Foul  riot's  Ions  in  torrents  came, 
And  dar'd  ufurp  thy  awful  name, 

Thrice  facred  mitery  '. 

Then  George  arofe.     His  feeling  heart 
Infpir'd  the  nation's  better  part 

With  virtues  like  its  own  : 
His  pow'r  controul'd  th'  infatiate  train, 
Whole  av'rice  grafp'd  at  private  gain, 

Regardlefsof  a  people's  groan. 
Like  fnows  beneath  th'  all- cheering  ray, 
The  rebel  crowds  diffblv'd  away  : 
And  juftice,  though  the  fword  (lie  drew, 
Glanc'd  lightly  o'er  th'  offending  crew, 
And  fcarce  (elected,  to  avenge  her  woes, 
A  fingle  victim  from  a  hoft  of  foes. 

Yes,  mercy  triumph'd  ;  mercy  (hone  confeft, 
In  her  own  nobleft  fphere,  a  monarch's  breaft. 
Forcibly  mild  did  mercy  (hine, 

Like  the  fwcet  month  in  which  we  pay 


Our  annual  vows  at  mercy's  (nrine, 
And  hail  our  monarch's  natal  day. 

ODE  XVI. 


96* 


FOR    THE    NEW-  YEAR 

LET  the  voice  of  mufic  breathe, 

Hail  with  fong  the  new-born  year  I— 
Though  the  frozen  earth  beneath 

Feels  not  yet  his  influence  near, 
Already  from  his  fouthern  goal 

The  genial  god  who  rules  the  day 
Has  bid  his  glowing  axle  roll, 

And  promis'd  the  return  of  May. 
Yon  ruffian  blafts,  whole  pinions  fweep 
Impetuous  o'er  our  northern  deep, 

Shall  ceafe  their  founds  of  war: 
And,  gradual  as  his  power  prevails, 
Shall  mingle  with  the  ibfter  gales 

That  ("port  around  his  car. 

Poets  fliould  be  prophets  too,— 

Plenty  in  his  train  attends  ; 
Fruits  and  flowers  of  various  hue 

Bloom  where'er  her  ftep  (he  bends* 
Down  the  green  hill's  (loping  fide,     ' 

Winding  to  the  vale  below, 
See  (lie  pours  her  golden  tide  ! 

Whilit,  upon  its  airy  brow, 
Amidft  his  flocks,  whom  nature  leads 
To  flowery  feafts  on  mountains'  heads, 

Th'  exulting  (hepherd  lies  : 
And  to  th'  horizon's  utmoft  bound 
Rolls  his  eye  with  taanfport  round, 

Then  lifts  it  to  the  fkies. 

Let  the  voice  of  mufic  breathe  ! 
Twine,  ye  (wains,  the  feftal  wreath  I 
Britain  (hall  no  more  complain 
Of  niggard  harvefts,  and  a  failing  year: 
No  more  the  mifer  hoard  his  grain, 
Regardlefs  of  the  peafant's  tear, 
Whole  hand  laborious  till'd  the  earth, 
And  gave  thole  very  treafures  birth. 

No  more  (hall  George,  whofe  parent  breaft 
Feels  every  pang  his  fubjects  know, 

Behold  a  faithful  land  diftreft, 
Or  hear  one  figh  of  real  woe. 

But  grateful  mirth,  whofe  decent  bounds 

No  riot  fwells,  no  fear  confounds, 

And  heart-felt  safe,  whofe  glow  within 

Exalts  contentment's  moclelt  mien, 

In  every  face  (hall  fmile  confeft, 
And  in  his  people's  joy,  the  monarch  too  be  blefir. 

ODE  XVII. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1768. 

PREPARE,  prepare  your  fongs  of  praife, 

The  genial  month  returns  again, 
Her  annual  rites  when  Britain  pays 

To  her  own  monarch  of  the  main. 
Not  on  Phenicia's  bending  more, 

Whence  commerce  firft  her  wins;s  eflay'tf, 
And  dar'd  th'  unfathom'd  deep  explore, 

Siacerer  vows  theTyrian  paid 
3  P  ij 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.  WHITEHEAD. 


To  that  imaginary  deity, 

Who  bade  him  boldly  feize  the  empire  of  the  fea. 
What  though  no  vidim  bull  be  led, 

His  front  with  {how-white  fillets  bound  ;  - 
Nor  fabl  •  chant  the  neighing  fteed; 

That  iffV.ed  when  he  fmote  the  ground ; 
Our  fields  a  living  mcenfe  bieaihe  : 

Nof  Lihanus,  nor  Carmel's  brow, 
To  drefs  the  bower,  or  form  the  wreath, 

More  liberal  fragrance  could  beflow. 

We  too  have  herds  and  fteeds.  befide  the  rills 

That  feed  and  rove,  protected,  o'er  a  thouiar.d 

hills. 

Secure,  while  George  the  fceptre  fways 
(Whom will, whom  int'reft,  and  whom  duty  draws 
To  venerate  and  patronize  the  lawsj, 
Secure  her  open  front  does  freedom  raife. 

Secure  the  merchant  ploughs  the  deep, 
His  wealth  his  own  :  Secure  the  fvvains 

Amidft  their  rural  treafures  fleep, 
Lords  of  their  little  kingdoms  of  the  plains 
Then  to  his  day  be- honour  given  ! 
May  every  choicefl  boon  of  Heaven 

His  bright,  diilingniffl'd  reign  adorn  ! 
Till  white  as  Britain's  fleece,  old  time  fhall  fhed 
His  mows  upon  his  reverend  head, 
Commanding  filial  awe  from  fenates  yet  unborn. 

ODE  XVIII. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1769. 

PATRON  of  art*,  at  length  by  thee 
Their  home  is  fix'd  ;  thy  kind  decree 

Has  plac'd  their  empire  here. 
No  more  unheeded  ihall  they  \vafte 
Their  treafures  on  the  fickle  tafte 

Of  each  fantaflic  year. 
Judgment  fhall  frame  each  chafte  defign, 
Nor  e'er  from  truth's  unerring  line 

Thefportive  artifl.  roam: 
Whether  the  breathing  buft  he  forms, 
With  nature's  tints  the  canvas  warms,     [dome 
Or  fwells,  like  Heaven's  high  arch,  th'  imjeria 
Fancy,  the  wanderer,  fhall  be  taught 

To  own  feverer  laws: 

S.piu1  of  hrr  wily  wanton  play, 

Spite  of  her  lovely  errors,  which  betray 

1    Th'  enchanted  foul  to  fond  applaufe, 

Ev'n  fne,  the  wanderer,  fhall  be  taught 
That  nothing  truly  great  was  ever  wrought, 
\Vhtre  judgment  was  away. 

Through  ofier  twigs  th'  acanthus  rofe : 
Th'  idea  charms,  the  artift  glows ; 

But  'twas  his  fkill  topleafc. 
Which  bade  tie  graceful  foliage  ff  read, 
To  crown  the  {lately  column's  head 

With  dignify  and  eafe. 
When  great  Apelles,  pride  of  Greece, 
Frown'd  on  the  aimoft  finifh'd  piece, 

Dcfpairing  to  fucceed, 
Wh»t though  the  miffiic  vengeance  pafs'd 
'.From  his  rafh  hand,  the  random  caft 
"Might  dafh  the  foam,  but  fkill  Lad  form'd  thcfleed 
Nor  Icfs  the  Phidian  arts  approve 

Labour,  and  patient  care, 
Whate'er  the  fkiiful  artifls  irace, 
Laocoon's  pangs,  or  loft  Antinous'  face . 
By  Ikill,  with  that  diviner  air 


The  Dclian  god  does  all  but  move ; 
Tvvas  fkill  gave  terrors  to  the  front  of  Jov£> 
To  Venus  eVery  grace. 

•  And  fhall  each  facred  feat, 
The  vales  of  Arno,  and  the  Tufcan  ftream, 
No  more  be  vifited  with  pilgrim  tVet  ? 
No  more'  on  fwcet  Hymettus1  fummits  dream 
The  fons  of  Albion  ?  or  below, 
Where  llyffus*  waters  flow, 

Trace  with  awe  the  dear  remains 
Of  mould'nng  urns,  and  mutilated  fanes  ? 
Far  be  the  thought.  Each  faered  feat, 
F.ach  monument  of  ancient  fame, 
Shall  ftill  be  viftted  with  pilgrim  feet, 
And  Albion  gladly  own  from  whence  fhe  caught 

the  flame. 

Still  ihall  her  (tvdious  yeuth  repair, 
Beneath  their  kiiig's  protecting  care, 

To  every  clime  which  art  has  known ; 
And  rich  with  fpoils  from  every  coaft 
Return,  till  Albion  learn  to  boafl 
An  Athens  of  her  own. 

ODE  XIX. 

FOR   THE-NEW-YEAR  I77O. 

FORWARD,  Janus,  turn  thine  eyes, 

"Future  fcenes  in  profpect  view,     ' 
Rifmg  as  the  moments  rife, 

Which  form  the  fleeting  year  anew. 
Frefh  beneath  the  fey  the  of  time, 

Could  the  mufe's  voice  avail, 
Joysfhouldfpring,  and  reach  their  prime, 

Blooming  ere  the  former  fail, 
And  every  joy  its  tribute  bring 
To  Britain,  and  to  Britain's  king. 

Suns  fhould  warm  the  pregnant  foil, 

Health  in  every  breeze  fhould  blow; 
Plenty  crown  the  peafant's  toil, 

And  {bine  upon  his  cheerful  brow. 
Round  the  throne  whilft  duty  waits, 

Duty  join'd  with  filial  love, 
Peace  fhouid  triumph  in  our  gates," 

Aiid  every  diflant  fear  remove  ; 
Till  gratitude  to  Heav'n  fhould  raifc 
The  fpcaking  eye,  the  fong  of  praife.  _ 

Let  the  nations  round  in  arms 
Stun  the  world  with  war's  alarms, 
But  let  Britain  frill  be  found 
Safe  within  her  wat'ry  bound. 
Tynint  chiefs  may  realms deftroy  ; 
Nobler  is  our  monarch's  joy. 
Of  all  that's  truly  great  pofTefs'd, 
And  by  blcfiing,  truly  blcft. 

Though  comets  rife,  and  wonder  mark  their  way, 
Above  the  bounds  of  nature's  fober  laws, 

It  is  the  all-cheering  lamp  of  day, 
Tlie  permanent,  the  unerring  caufe, 

Ey  whom  th' ciiliven'd  world  its  courfe  maintain^ 

By  whom  all  nature  fmilcs,  and  beauteous  order 
reigus. 

ODE  XX. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1770. 
DISCORD  hence !  the  torch  rcfign 
liannony  ihaii  rule  to-day.— 


O    D    f.    S, 


-Whate'er  thy  bufy  fiends  defign 

Of  future  ills  in  cruel  play, 
To  torture  or  alarm  mankind, 

Lead  th'  infidioBs  train  away, 
Some  blacker  hours  for  niiicluef  find ; 

Harmony  (hall  rule  to-day. 

DiftinguinVd  from  the  vulgar  year, 

And  mark'd  with  Heaven's  peculiar  white, 
This  day  fhall  grace  the  rolling  fphcrc, 
And  ling' ring  end  its  bright  career, 
Unwilling  to  be  loft  in  night. 
Difcord,  lead  thy  fiends  away  ! 
Harmony  fhall  rule  to-day. 

Is  there,  intent  on  Britain's  good, 
Some  angel  hovering  in  the  fky, 
Whofe  ample  view  furveys  her  circling  flood, 
Her  guardian  rocks,  that  fhine  on  high, 
Her  iorefts  waving  to  the  gales, 
Her  dreams  that  glide  through  fertile  vales, 
Her  lowing  paftures,  fleecy  downs, 
Towering  cities,  bufy  towns, 
Is  there  who  views  them  all  with  joy  fcrene, 
And  breathes  a  blefling  ou  the  various  fcene  ? 

O  if  there  is,  to  him  'tis  given 

(When  daring  crimes  almofl  demand 

.         The  vengeance  of  the  thunderer's  han<l\ 

To  {'often  or  avert  the  wrath  of  Heaven. 

O'er  ocean's  face  do  tempefts  fweep  ? 

Do  civil  florms  blow  loud  ? 

He  ftills  the  raging  of  the  deep, 

And  madnefs  of  the  crowd. 

He  too,  when  Heaven  vouchfafas  to  fmile 
Propitious  on  his  favourite  ifle, 
With  zeal  performs  the  tafk  lie  loves, 
And  every  gracious  boon  improves. 

Bleft  delegate  !  if  now  there  lies 

Ripening  in.yonder  pregnant  Ikies 
Some  great  event  of  more  than  common  good, 

Though  envy  howl  with  all  her  brood, 
Thy  wonted  power  employ  ; 

Ufher  the  mighty  moments  in, 
Sacred  to  harmoriy  and  joy. 
And  from  this  era  let  their  courfe  begin  ! 

OPE  xxi. 

FOR    TIIE  NEW-YEAR-  IJJJ. 

AGAIN  returns  the  circling  year, 

Again  due  fdh'.l  day, 
V.'liich  ufhers  in  its  bright  career, 

Demands  the  votive  lay  : 
Again  the  oft-accuflom'd  mufe 
Her  tributary  tafk  purfucs, 
Strikes  the  preluding  lyre  again,  [ftrain. 

And  calls  the  harmonious  band  to  animate  her 

Britain  is  the  glowing  theme  ; 
To  Britain  fkcred  be  th.:  forg  : 

Whate'er  the  fages  lov'd  to  dream 

Lyccan  fhades  among, 
(When  raptur'd  views  their  bofoms  warm'd, 

Of  perfect  (rates  by  fancy  form'd), 
United  here  and  realiz'd  we  fee, 
Thrones,  independence,  laws,  and  liberty  ! 
The  triple  cord,  which  binds  them  faft, 

Like  the  golden  chain  of  Jove, 
Combining  all  below  with  all  above, 
the  facred  union  laft. 


\V  hat  though  jars  intefline  rife, 

And  difcord  leeins  a  while  to  reign, 
Britain's  fons  are  brave,  are  wife, 
The  florm  fubfides,  and  they  embrace  again. 

The  rnaftcr-fprings  which  rule  the  land, 

Guided  by  a  Ikilful  hand, 
Loofening  now,  and  now  rfflraining, 
Yielding  fomething,  fome,thing  gaining, 
•Prcferve  inviolate  the  public  frame, 
\s,  though  the  feafons  change,  the  year  is  ftil'l 

the  fame. 
O  fhauld  Britain's  foes  prefume, 

Trufting  fome  delufive  fcene 
Of  tranfient  feuds  that  rage  at  home, 

And  foem  to  fhake  the  nice  machine, 
Should  they  dare  to  lift  the  fword, 

Or  bid  their  hoftik-  thunders  roar, 
Soon  their  pride  would  mirth  afford, 

And  break  like  billows  on  her  fhore  ; 
Soon  would  find  her  vengeance  wake, 
Weep  in  blood  the  due  miftake, 
And  'gainfl  their  \vild  attempts  united  fee 
Thrones,  independence,  laws,  and  liberty  ! 

ODE  XXII. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAT,  JUNE  4. 1771. 

LONG  did  the  churlifh  eaft  detain 

In  icy  bonds  th'  impriibn'd  Spring: 
No  verdure  dropp'd  in  dewy  rain, 

And  not  a  zephyr  wav'd  its  wing. 
Even  he,  th'  enlivening  fource  of  day, 
But  pour'dan  ineffectual  ray 

On  earth's  wild  bofom,  cold  and  bare  ; 
Where  not  a  plant  uprear'd  its  head, 
Or  dar'd  its  infant  foliage  fpread 

To  meet  the  blafting  air. 

Nor  lefs  did  man  confefs  its  force  : 
Whate'er  could  damp  its.genial  courfe, 

Or  o'er  the  feats  of  life  prevail, 
E.'.ch  pale  diftiiie  that  pants  for  breath, 
Each  painful  harbinger  of  death, 

i.urk'd  in  the  loaded  gale. 

But  now  th'  unfolding  year  refumes 

Its  various  hues,  its  rich  array; 
Ati'l  burflhig  into  bolder  blooms, 

Repays  with  ilrcugth  its  long  delay. 
"fis  nature  reigns.   The  grove  unbinds 
Us  i ; :  ii'js  to  the  foutliern  winds, 

'!  }•<  birds  with  mufic  fill  its  bowers; 
The.  Hocks,  the  herds  beneath  its  Ihade 
Repofe,  or  fport  along  the  glade, 

A:ul  crop  the  rifmg  flowers. 
Nor  iefs  does  man  rejoice.  To  him 
More  mildly  fweet  the  breezes  feem, 

I\ioie  frefli  the  fields,  the  funs  more  warm; 
While  health,  the  animating  foul 
ry..-blils,  inipires  the  whole, 

Aud  heightens  each  peculiar  charm. 

Lovelieft  of  months,  bright  June  !  again  • 

Thy  fealbn  fmiles.  With  thee  return 
The  frolic  band  of  pleafure's  train  ; 

With  thee  Britannia's  feftal  morn, 
When  the  glad  land-her  homage  pays 

To  George,  her  monarch,  and  her  friencL 
"  May  cheerful  health,  may  length  of  days, 

<;  And  fmiling  peace  his  fteps  attend  2 


THE    WORKS    OF    W.    WHITEHEAD. 


"  May  every  good" — Ceafe,  ceafe  the  ftrain  ; 
The  prayer  were  impotent  and  vain: 

What  greater  good  can  man  poffefs 
Than  he,  to  whom  all-bounteous  Heaven, 
With  unremitting  hand,  has  given 

The  power  and  will  to  blefs  ? 

ODE  XXIII. 

FOR  THE  NEW-TEAR    1772. 

AT  length  the  fleeting  year  is  o'er, 

And  we  no  longer  are  deceiv'd ; 
The  wars,  the  tumults  are  no  more 

Which  fancy  form'd,  and  fear  believ'd. 
Each  diftant  object  ofdiftrefs, 
Each  phantom  of  uncertain  guefs, 

The  bufy  mind  of  man  could  rajfe, 
Has  taught  ev'n  folly  to  beware ; 
At  fleets  and  armies  in  the  air 

The  wond'ring  crowd  has  ceas'd  to  gaze. 
And  fhall  the  fame  dull  cheats  again 

Reyiye,  in  ftale  fuccefiion  roll'd  ? 

Shall  fage  experience  warn  in  vain, 
Kor  the  new-year  be  wifer  than  the  old  ? 
Forbid  it,  ye  protefting  powers, 
Who  guide  the  months,  the  days,  the  hours, 

Which  now  advance  on  rapid  wing! 
May  each  new  fpedre  of  the  night 
Diffolve  at  their  approaching  light, 
As  fly  the  wint'ry  dumps  the  foft  return  of  Spring. 
True  to  hcrfelf  if  Britain  prove, 

What  foreign  foes  has  fhe  to  dread  ? 
Her  facred  laws,  her  fpv'reign's  love, 

Her  virtuous  pride  by  freedom  bred, 
Secure  at  once  domeflic  eafe. 
And  awe  th'  ai'piring  nations  into  peace. 

Did  Rome  e'er  court  a  tyrant's  fmiJes, 
Till  faction  wrought  the  civil  frame's  decay  ? 

Did  Greece  fubmit  to  Philip's  wiles, 
Till  her  own  faithlefs  fons  prepar'd  the  way  ? 

True  to  herfelf  if  Britain  prove, 

The  warring  world  will  league  in  vain, 
Her  facred  laws,  her  fovereign's  love, 
Her  empire  boundlcfs  as  the  main. 

Will  guard  at  once  domeflic  eafc, 
And  awe  th'  afpiring  nations  into  peace. 

ODE  XXIV- 

FOR  ins  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4,  177?. 
FROM  fcenes  of  death  and  deepdiflrefs 

,  (Where  Britain  lhar'd  her  monarch's  woe), 
Which  moft  the  feeling  mind  opprefs, 
Yet  beft  to  bear  the  virtuous  know, 
Turn  we  our  eyes — The  cyprefs  wreath 

No  more  the  plaintive  mufe  fhall  wear  ; 
The  blooming  flowers  which  round  her  breathe, 

Shall  form  the  chaplet  for  her  hair; 
And  the  gay  month  which  claims  her  annual  fire, 
Shall  raife  to  fprightlier  notes  the  animated  lyre. 
The  lark  that  mounts  on  morning  wings 

To  meet  the  rifing  day, 
Amidft  the  clouds  exulting  fings, 
The  dewy  clouds,  whence  zephyr  flings 

The  fragrance  of  the  May. 
The  day  which  gave  our  monarch  birth, 
Recalls  each  nobleft  theme  of  ages  paft ;     ' 


Tells  us,  whate'er  we  owed  to  Naflad's  worth, 
The  Brunfwick  race  confirm'd,  and  bade  it  laft : 

Tell  us,  with  rapturous  joy  unblam'd, 
And  confcioiis  gratitude,  to  feel 

Our  laws,  our  liberties  reclaim'd 

From  tyrant  pride  and  bigot  zeal ; 
While  each  ghd  voice  that  wakes  the  echoing  air, 
In  one  united  wifh  thus  joins  the  general  prayer : 

"  Till  ocean  quits  his  fav'fite  iflc, 

«  -fin  Thames,  thy  wat'ry  train 
"  No  more  flwll  blefs  its  pregnant  foil, 
"  May  order,  peace,  and  freedom  fmile 

"  Beneath  a  Brunfwick's  reign  !" 

ODE  XXV. 

FOR  THE  NEWr-YEAR    1773- 

WRAPT  in  the  dole  of  fable  grain, 

With  ftorms  and  tempers  in  his  train, 

Which  howl  the  naked  woods  among, 

Winter  claims  the  folemn  fong. 

Hark,  'tis  natuic's  laft  farewell; 

Every  blaft  is  nature's  knell  ! 

Yet  fha!l  glooms  opprefs  the  mind, 
So  oft  by  fage  experience  taught 

To  feel  its  prefcnt  views  confin'd, 
And  to  the  future  point  th'  aipiring  thought  ?       t 

All  that  fades  again  fhall  live, 

Nature  dies  but  to  revive. 
Yon  fun  who  fails  in  fouthern  fkies, 

And  faintly  gilds  th' horizon's  bound, 
Shall  northward  ftiil,  and  rorthward  rife, 

With  b.eams  of  warmth  and  fplendour  crown'd,  3 
Shall  wake  the  {lumbering,  buried  grain 

From  the  cold  earth's  relenting  breait, 
And  Britain's  ifle  fhall  bloom  again 

In  all  its  wanted  verdure  dreil. 

Britain,  to  whom  kind  Heaven's  indulgent  care 

Has  fix'd  in  temperate  climes  its  ftated  goal, 
Far  from  the  burning  zone's  inclement  air, 

Far  from  th'  eternal  frofts  which  hind  the  pole. 
Here  dewy  Spring  exerts  his  genial  powers ; 

Here  Summer  glows  falubrious,  nor  fevere  ; 
Here  copious  Autumn  fprcads  his  golden  iloresj 

And  Winter  ftrengthens  the  returning  year. 

O  with  each  bleffingmay  it  rife, 

Which  Heaven  can  give,  or  mortals  bear! 

May  each  wing'd  moment  as  it  flies, 
Improve  a  joy^  or  eafe  a  care  ; 

Tilj  Britain's  grateful  heart  aftonifh'd  bends 
To  that  Almighty  Power  from  whom  all  good  de- 
fcends,     * 

ODE  XXVI. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1775. 
BORN  for  millions  are  the  kings 

Who  fit  on  Britain's  guarded  throne  : 
From  delegated  power  their  glory  fprings, 

Their  birth-day  is  our  own ! 

In  impious  pomp  let  tyrants  fhine, 
pAffuming  attributes  divine, 
And  ftretch  their  unrefifted  fway 
O'er  flaves,  who  tremble  and  obey. 
On  lawlefs  pinions  let  them  foar : 
Far  happier  he,  whofe  temperate  power, 


ODES. 


Acknowlcdg'd  and  avow'd, 
Ev'n  on  the  throne  reftri<5Hon  knows ; 
And  to  thofe  laws  implicit  bows 

By  which  it  rules  the  crowd. 

When  erft  th'  imperial  pride  of  Rome 
Exulting  faw  a  world  o'ercome, 
And  rais'd  a  mortal  to  the  flcies, 
There  were,  'tis  true,  with  eagle  eyes 

Who  view'd  the  dazzling  fccne. 
Though  incenfe  blaz'd  on  flattery's  fhrine, 
Great  Titus  and  the  greater  Antcnine 

Felt,  and  confefs'd  they  were  hut  men. 

But  ah  !  how  few,  let  hiftory  fpeak 
With  weeping  eye  and  blufhing  cheek, 

E'er  reach'd  their  mighty  mind. 
Man,  felfifh  man,  in  mod  prevail'd, 
And  power  roll'd  down  a  curfe  entail'd 

On  reafon  and  mankind. 

Happy  the  land,  to  whom  'tis  given 
T'  enjoy  that  choiccft  boon  of  Heaven, 
Where  bound  in  one  illuftrious  chain, 
The  monarch  and  the  people  reign  ! 

Hence  is  Britannia's  weal  maintain'd  ; 

Hence  are  the  rights  his  fathers  guin'd 
To  every  free-born  lubjecT:  known  : 

Hence  to  the  throne,  in  fongs  of 

A  grateful  realm  its  tribute  pays, 
And  hails  the  king,  whofe  birth-duy  is  its  own. 

ODE  XXVII. 

FOR   THE   NEW-YEAR  1774- 

"  PASS  but  a  few  fhort  fleeting  years," 

Imperial  Xerxes  figh'd  and  faid, 
Whijft  his,fond  eye  i'uffus'd  with  tears, 

His  numerous  hofts  furvcy'd  ; 
"  Pafs  but  a  few  fhort  fleeting  years, 
"  And  all  that  pomp,  which  now  appears 

"  A  glorious  living  fcene, 
«  Shall  breathe  its  bit ;  fliall  fall,  (hall  die, 
"  And  low  in  earth  yon  myriads  lie 

"  As  they  had  never  been  !'" 
True,  tyrant :   Wherefore  then  does  pride, 

And  vain  ambition,  urge  thy  mind 
To  fpread  thy  needlefs  conquefts  wide, 

And  defolate  mankind.' 
Say,  why  do  millions  bleed  at  thy  command  ? 
If  life,  alas,  is  fhort,  why  {hake  the  hally  land  ? 

Not  fo  do  Britain's  kings  behold 
Their  floating  bulwarks  of  the  main, 

Their  undulating  fails  unfold, 
And  gather  all  the  wind's  aerial  reign. 

Myriads  they  fee,  prepar'd  to  brave 

The  loudeil  ftorrn,  the  wildeft  wave, 
To  hurl  juft  thunders  on  inlulting  foes, 
TO  guard,  and  not  invade,  the  world's  repofe. 
Myriads  they  fee,  their  country's  dear  delight, 
Their  country's  dear  defence,  and  glory  in  the 
fight ! 

Nor  do  they  idly  drop  a  tear 

On  fated  nature's  future  bier  ; 
For  not  the  grave  can  damp  Britannia's  fires; 

Though  chang'd  the  men,  the  worth  is  ftill  the 

fame  ; 
The  fons  will  emulate  their  fires, 

And  the  fons  foils  will  catch  the  glorious  flame  ! 


ODE  XXVIII. 


FOR  ins  MASESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4. 1774. 

HARK  ! — or  does  the  mufes's  ear 
Form  the&unds  flie- -longs  to.  hear  ?— • 
Hark  !  from  yonder  weltcrn  main 

O'er  the  white  wave  echoing  far, 
Vows  of  duty  fvvell  the  (train, 

And  drown  the  notes  of  war. 
The  prodigal  again  returns, 

And  on  his  parent's  neck  reclines; 
With  honeft  lhame  his  bofom  burns, 

And  in  his  eye  affedtion  fhines; 
Shines  through  tears,  at  once  that  prove 
Grief,  and  joy,  and  filial  love. 

Difcord,  flop  that  raven  voice, 
Left  the  nations  round  rejoice. 
Tell  it  not  on  Gallia's  plain, 

Tell  it  not  on  Ebro's  ftream, 
Though  but  tranfient  be  the  pain, 

.Like  to  fome  delufive  dream  : 
For  foon  fliall  reafon,  calm  and  fage, 

Detect  each  vile  feducer's  wiles, 
Shall  footh  to  peace  miftaken  rage, 

And  all  be  harmony  and  fmiles; 
Smiles  repentant,  fuch  as  prove 
Grief,  and  joy,  and  filial  love. 

O  prophetic  be  the  mufe  ! 

May  her  monitory  flame 
Wake  the  foul  to  nolile  views, 

And  point  the  path 'to  genuine  fame  ! 
Juft  fubjedtion,  mild  commands, 

Mutual  intereft.  mutual  love, 
Form  indifloluble  bands, 

Like  the  golden  chain  of  Jove. 
Clofely  may  they  all  unite  ! 

And  fee,  a  gleam  of  luftre  breaks 
From  the  fhades  of  envious  night — 

And  hark  !  'tis  more  than  fancy  fpeaks — 
They  bow,  they  yield,  they  join  the  choral  lay, 
And  hail  vvith'us  our  monarch's  natal  day. 

ODE  XXIX. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1775. 
YE  powers,  who  rule  o'er  ftates  and  kings, 
Who  ihield  with  fublunary  wings 

Man's  erring  race  from  woe, 
To  Britain's  fons  in  every  clime 
Your  bleliings  waft,  whate'er  their  crime, 

On  all  the  winds  that  blow ! 

Beyond  the  vafl.  -Atlantic  tide 
Extend  your  healing  influence  wide, 

Where  millions  claim  your  care: 
Infpire  eath  juft,  each  filial  thought, 
And  let  the  nations  ro-ind  be  taught 

The  Britifh  oak  is  there. 

Though  vaguely  wild  itsbranches  fpxead, 
And  rear  almoft  an  alien  head 

Wide-waving  e'er  the  plain, 
Let  ftill,  unfpoiW  by  foreign  earth, 
And  confcious  of  its  nobler  birth, 

The  untainted  trunk  remain. 

Where  mutual  intereft  binds  the  band, 
Where  due  fubjedtion,  mild  commaud^ 
Enfure  perpetual  cafe, 


THE    WORKS   OF   XV.    W  H  I  IT  E  H  E  AD. 


96!  •  . 

Shall  jarring  tumults  madly  rave, 

And  ju>ftilf  banners  proudly  wave 

OYr  once  united  leas? 
No  ;  "midft  the  blaze  of  wrath  divine 
Heaven's  lovelieft  attribute  mall  fhine, 

And  mercy  gild  the  ray; 
Shall  dill  avert  impending  fete  ; 
And  concord  its  bell  era  date 

From  this  aufpicious  day. 

ODE  XXXj 

FOR  THE   NEW-YEAR   177^ 

ON  the  white  rocks  which  guard  Her  ceaft, 

Obfervant  of  the  parting  day, 
Whofe  orb  was  half  in  ocean  loft, 
Reclin'd  Britannia  lay. 

Wide  o'er  the  wat'ry  wade 
A  penfive  look  file  cad  ; 
And  fcarce  could  check  the  riling  figh, 
And  fcarce  could  flop  the  tea;-  which  trembled 
in  her  eye. 

"  Sheath,  death  the  fword  which  thirds  for 

"  blood" 

(She  cried),  "  deceiv'd,.miftakcn  men! 
"  Nor  let  your  parent  o'er  the  flood 
"  Send  forth  her  voice  in  vain  ! 
"  Alas,  no  tyrant  die, 
"  She  courts  you  to  be  free ! 
"  Submiffive  htar  htr  foftjpomminil, 
*'  Nor  force  .unwilling  vengeance  froni  a  parent's 
«  hand." 

Hear  her,  ye  wife>  to  duty  true, 

And  teach  the  reft  to  feel, 
Nor  let  the  madnefs  of  a  few 

Diftrefs  the  public" weal! 

So  (halt  the  opening  year  affume, 
Time's  faircft  child,  a  happier  bloom  ; 

The  white-wing' d  hours  (hall  lightly  move, 

The  fun  with  added  luftre  mine  ! 
"  To  e'rr  is  "human." — Let  us  prove 
"  Forg.ivenels  is  divine!" 

ODE  XXXI. 
FOR  ins  MAJRSTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1776. 

YE  weftern  gales,  whofe  Denial  breath 
Unbinds  the  glebe,  till  allbeneath 

One  verdant  livery  wears : 
You  footh  the  fultry  heats  of  noon, 
Add  foftnefs  to  the  fetting  fun, 

And  dry  the  morning's  tearj. 

This  is  your  feafon,  lovely  gales,     • 
Through  ether  now  your  power  prevails ; 
And  our  dilated  breads  fhall  own 
The  joys  which  flow  Iron?  you  alone. 

Why,  therefore,  in  yon  dubious  fey, 
With  outfpread  wing,  and  eager  eye 

On  diftant  fcenes  intent, 

«'  Sits  expectation  in  the  air" — : 

Why  do,  alternate,  hope  and  fear 

Sufpend  fome  great  event  ? 

Can  Britain  fail  ?—  The  thought  were  vain ! 
The  powerful  emprefs  of  the  main. 


But  drives  to  fmooth  th'  unruly  flood, 
And  dreads  a  conqueft  llain'd  with  blood. 

While  yet,  ye  winds  your  breezy  balm 
Through  nature  fpreads  a  general  calm, 
While  yet  a  pauie  fell  difcord  knows  ; 
Catch  the  foi't  moment  of  repolo, 

Your  genuine  powers  exert ; 
To  pity  melt  th' obdurate  mind, 
Teach  every  bofbm  to  be  kind, 

And  humanize  the  heart. 

Propitious  gales,  O  wing  your  way ! 
And  whilft  we  hail  that  rightful  fway 

Whence  texnper'd  freedom  fprings, 
The  blifs  we  fo.el  to  future  times 
Extend,  and  from  your  native  dimes 

Bring  peuce  upon  your  wings !— — — 

ODE  XXXII. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YEAR  1777. 

A  CIA  IN,  imperial  Winter's  fway 
Bids  the  earth  and  air  obey ; 
Throws  o'er  yon  hoftile  lakes  his  icy  bar, 
And,  for  a  while,  fufpends  the  rage  of  war. 

O  may  it  ne'er  revive !— — Ye  wife, 
Ye  juft,  ye  virtuous,  and  ye  brave, 

Leave  fell  contention  to  the  foils  of  vice, 
And  join  your  powers  to  fave  ! 

Enough  of  daughter  hav^  ye  known, 
'Ye  wayward  children  of  a  diftarit  clime, 

For  you  we  heave  the  kindred  groan, 
We  pity  your  mis-fortune  and  your  crime. 
Stop,  parricides,  the  blow, 
O  find  another  foe  ! 
And  hear  a  parent's  dear  requeft, 
Who  longs  to  clafp  you  to  her  yielding  bread. 

What  change  would  ye  require  ?  What  form 
Ideal  doats  in  fancy's  fky  ? 
Ye  fond  enthufiads  break  the  charm, 
And  let  cool  reafon  clear  the  mental  eye. 
On  Britain's  well-mix'd  date  alone, 
True  liberty  has  fix'd  her  throne. 
Where  lav/,  not  man,  an  equal  rule  maintains  : 
Can  fredom  e'er  be  found  where  many  a  tyrant 
reign  i  ? 

United,  let  us  all  thofe  hledings  find, 
The  God  of  nature  meant  mankind. 

WJiate'er  of  error,  ill  redrcil ; 

What  e'er  of  paffion,  ill  repreft ; 

Whatc'cr  the  wicked  have  coriceiv'd, 

And  folly's  heedkfs  fons  believ'd, 
Let  all  lie  buried  in  oblivion's  dood, 
And  our  great  cement  be — the  public  good. 

ODE  XXXIII. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAT,  JUNE  4.  1777. 

DRIVEN  out  from  heaven's  ethereal  domes, 

On  earth  infatiate  difcord  roams, 

And  fpreads  her  baleful  influence  far : 
On  wretched  man  her  fcorpion  dings 
Around  th'  infidious  fury  fli:igs, 

Corroding  every  blifs,  and  fharp'ning  every  cere. 

Hence,  demon,. hence  !  in  tenfold  night 
Thy  Stygian  fpells  employ, 


©    D    E 


Nor  -with  thy  preferrce  blaft  the  light 
Oi'  that  aufpicious  day,  which  Britain  gives  to  joy. 

But  come,  thou  fofter  deity, 

Faireft  unanimity ! 
Not  more  fair  the  ftar  that  leads 
Bright  Aurora's  plowing  flceds, 
Or  on  Hcfpcr's  front  that  ihincs, 
\Vhen  the  garifh  day  declines ; 
Brin;;-  thy  uJual  train  along, 
Feilive  dance,  and  choral  long, 
Loofe-rob'd  iport,  from  folly  free, 
And  mirth,  chaftis'd  by  decency. 

Enough  of  war  the  penfive  mufe  has  fung, 
Enough  of  {laughter  trembled  on  her  tongue ; 

Fairer  proipeeb  let  her  bring 

Than  hoilile  fields,  and  feenes  of  blood  ; 

If  happier  hours  are  on  the  wing, 
Wherefore  damp  the  coming  good  ? 

If  again  our  tears  mull  flow, 

\Vhy  forcilal  the  future  woe? 

Bright-ey'd  hope,  thy  pleafing  power 

Gilds  at  leaft  the  prcfent  hour, 

Every  anxious  thought  beguiles, 

Drefi'es  every  face  in  fmiles, 
Nor  lets  one  tranfknt  cloud  the  biifs  deftroy 
Of  that  aul'picious  day,  which  Britain  gives  to  joy 

ODE  XXXIV. 

F*R  THE   NEW-YEAR  1778. 

WHEN  rival  nations  great  in  arms, 

Great  in  po-.vcr,  in  glory  great, 
Fill  the  world  with  war's  alarms, 

And  breathe  a  temporary  hate, 
The  hoftile  norms  hut  rag:  a  while, 

And  the  tir'd  conteft  ends.— — 
But  r,h,  how  hard  to  reconcile 

The  foes  who  once  were  friends ! 
E;ich  hafly  word,  each  look  unkind, 

Each  diftant  hint,  that  Items  to  mean 
A  fomething  lurking  in  the  mind 

Which  u.!moft  longs  to  lurk  unfeen, 
luich  fhadow  of  a  fhade  offends 
Th'  embitter'd  foes  who  once  were  friends. 

That  Power  alone  who  fram'd  the  foul, 

And  bade  the  fprings  of  paflion  play, 
Can  all  their  jarring  firings  controul, 

And  form  on  difcord  concord's  fway. 
'Tis  He  alone,  whole  breath  of  love 
Did  o'er  the  world  of  waters  move, 

Whofe  touch  the  mountains  bends; 
"Whole  word  from  darknefs  call'd  forth  light, 
'Tis  He  alone  can  reunite 

The  foes  who  once  were  friends. 

To  Him,  O  Britain,  how  the  knee! 
His  awful,  his  auguft  decree, 

Ye  rebel  tribes,  adore ! 
Forgive  at  cnce,  and  be  forgiven, 
Ope  in  each  breaft  a  little  heaven, 

And  difcord  is  no  more. 

ODE  XXXV. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAT,  JUNK  4.  1778 

ARM'D  with  her  native  force,  behold, 
How  proudly  through  each  martial  plain 


Britannia  fhlks !  "  'Twasthus  of  old, 
"  My  warlike  fons,  a  gallant  train, 
"  Call'd  forth  their  genuine  ftrength,and  fpread 
"  Thfiir  banners  o'er  .the  teutetj  mead ;  [yield," 
"  'Twas  thus  they  taught  perfidious  France  to 
She  cries,  and  fhows  the  lillies  on  her  fuield. 

"  Yes,  goddcfs,  yes!   'twas  thus  of  old,'* 
The  aiwle  replies,  "  thy  barons  bold 
"  Led  forth  their  native  troops,  and  fpread 
"  Their  banners  o'er  the  tented  mead. 
"  But  nobler  now  the  zeal  that  warms 

"  Each  patriot  breaft :   For  freedom's  reign 
"  Has  burft  the  Norman's  feudal  chain, 
"  And  given  new  force  to  glory's  charms. 

"  No  vaffal  bards 

"  Rife  at  a  tyrant  lord's  commands  : 
"  'Tis  for  thcmfelves,  with  honell  rage, 
"  The  voluntary  youths  engage; 
To  guard  their  facred  homes  they  fight, 
And  in  their  own  affert  the  pyblic  right, 
Bound  by  choice,   and  choice  alone,      [own. 
Their  kadi-is,  and  their  laws  are  both  their 
Laws  obcy'd,  becaufe  approv'd, 
And  chiefs  that  rule,  becaufe  Ix-lov'd. 
'Tis  hence  that  flalh  of  virtuous  pride, 
Which  Britain's  fons  difdain  to  hide,     [eyes. 
Glows  on  their  cheeks,    and  through  their 
In  active,  lire,  the  foe  defies: 
'Tis  hence,  at  home,  they  claim  and  find 
Th'  undoubted  rights  of  human  kind; 
And,  whilft  they  own  a  juft  controul, 
But  yield  a  part  to  guard  the  whole. 
'Tis  hence  they  fpurn  a  ferviie  chain, 
While  tyrant  man's  defpotic  reign 

"  Enflaves  the  peopled  earth  ; 
«  And  hence,  with  equal  zeal  obey 
''A  father  king,  and  hail  the  day 

"  Which  gave  fuch  monarchs  birth." 

ODE  XXXVI. 

FOR  THE   NEW-YEAR  1779. 

To  arms,  to  asms,  ye  fons  of  might, 
And  hail  with  founds  of  war  the  new-born  year! 

Britannia,  from  her  rocky  height, 
Points  to  the  Gallic  eoaft,  and  lifts  her  fpear. 
Th'  immortal  hatred,  which  by  turns 
Wakes  and  llctps,  with  fury  burns : 
New  caufe  of  juft  offence  has  Albion  found, 
And  lo,  it  bleeds  afrcfh,  th'  eternal  wound'. 

Though  great  in  war,  of  fkill  poffeft, 
Though  native  courage  fire  their  brcafb 
With  ardour  for  the  public  weal, 
One  want,  at  leafl,  our  rivals  feel, 
The  want  of  freedom  damps  each  gen'rous  aim; 

Whoe'er  the  lord  they  ferve,  th'  oppreflion  is  the 

fame. 

Power  defpotic  rarely  knows, 
Rarely  heeds  a  fubjecVs  woes; 
By  force  it  claims,  with  grafping  hand, 
Whate'er  ambition  dares  demand  : 
The  ravag'd  merchant,  plunder'd  fwain, 
May  pour  their  weak  complaints  in  vain; 
Their  private  forrows  are  their  own  ; 

A  tyrant  feels  not,  though  a  people  groan. 

O  happier  far  the  well-mix'd  ftate,         [fate, 
Which  blends  the  monarch's  with  the  fubjed's 


970 


THE    WORKS   OF   W.    WHITEHEAD. 


And  links  the  fceptre  to  the  fpade  ! 

The  ftroke  which  wounds  the  lowlieft  clown 

Is  infult  to  the  Britifh  crown,  [invade. 

And  he  attacks  our  rights,  who  dares  the  throne 
One  common  flame,  one  active  foul 
Pervades,  and  animates  the  whole  ; 
One  heart,  one  hand,  directs  the  blow, 

And  hurls  the  vollied  vengeance  on  the  foe. 

ODE  XXXVII. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1779 

LET  Gallia  mourn!  th'  infulting  foe, 
Who  dar'd  to  aim  the  treach'rous  blow, 
When  loft,  ftie  thought,  in  deep  difmay, 
Forlorn,  diftrefs'd,  Britannia  lay. 

Deems  fhe  misfortune  e'er  can  tame 
The  gen'rous  inborn  Britifli  flame  ? 

Is  Agincourt  fo  little  known  ? 
Muft  frefh  conviction  curb  her  pride, 
Each  age  new  annals  be  fupply'd, 

Of  Gallia's  dame  and  our  renown  ? 

What  though  a  while  the  tempeft  fhrouds 
Her  fummits,  and  a  night  of  clouds 

Each  rock  and  mountain  wears  ; 
Yet  foon  returns  the  flitting  breeze, 
And  brighter  o'er  her  fubjed  feas 

The  queen  of  ifles  appears. 

Let  Gallia  mourn  !  th'  infulting  foe, 
Who  fees  by  all  the  winds  that  blow, 
Her  treafures  wafted  to  the  coaft 
She  infolently  deem'd  was  loft. 

Yon  fun,  that  with  meridian  ray 
Now  gilds  the  confecfated  day, 

When  Britain  breathes  her  annual  vow 
For  him,  the  guardian  of  her  laws, 
For  him,  who  in  her  facred  caufe 

Bids  the  red  bolt  of  vengeance  glow. 

That  very  fun,  when  Ganges'  flream 
.  Redden'd  beneath  his  rifing  beam, 

Saw  Britain's  banners  wave 
In  eaftern  air,  with  honeft  pride, 
O'er  vanquifh'd  forts  ;  which  Gallia  tried, 

But  tried  in  vain  to  fave. 

That  very  fun,  ere  evening  due 
Has  dimm'd  his  radiant  orb,  will  view, 
Where  Lucia's  mountains  tower  on  high, 
And  feem  to  prep  the  weftern  Iky, 
That  oft-contefted  ifland  own 
Allegiance  to  the  Britifh  throne. 

Like  her  own  oak,  the  foreft's  king, 

Though  Britain  feels  the  blows  around  ; 
Ev'n  from  the  fteel's  inflicliive  fting, 
Kew  force  {he  gains,  new  fcyons  fpring, 
And  flourifh  from  the  wound. 

ODE  XXXVIII. 

FOR   THE  NEW-YXAR 


AND  dares  infulting  France  pretend 
To  grafp  the  trident  of  the  main, 

And  hope  the  aftonifh'd  world  fhould  bend 
To  the  mock  "pageantry  afliun'din-vain  ? 


What,  though  her  fleets  the  billows  load,  * 

What,  though  her  mimic  thunders  roar, 

She  bears  the  enfigns  of  the  god, 

But  not  his  delegated  power.  [cree, 

Ev'n  from  the  birth  of  time,  'twas  Heaven's  de- 
The  queen  of  ifles  fhould  reign  fole  emprefs  of 
the  fea. 

United  Bourbon's  giant  prkle, 

Strains  every  nerve,  each  effort  tries, 
With  all  but  juftice  on  its  fide, 

That  ftrength  can  give,  or  perfidy  devife. 
Dread  they  not  Him  who  rules  the  iky, 

Whofe  nod  directs  the  whirlwind's  fpeed, 
Who  bares  His  red  right  arm  on  high, 

For  vengeance  on  the  perjur'd  head, 
Th'  Almighty  Power,  by  whofc  auguft  decree 
The  queen  of  ifles  alone  is  fovereign  of  the  fea  i 

Vain-glorious  France  !  deluded  Spain  ! 
Whom  even  experience  warns  in  vain, 
Is  there  a  fea  that  dafhing  pours 
Its  big  waves  round  your  trembling  fhores, 
Is  there  a  promontory's  brow 
That  does  not  Britain's  vaft  achievements  know  ? 
Alk  Bifcay's  rolling  flood, 

Afk  the  proud  Celtic  fteep, 
How  oft  her  navies  rode 

Triumphant  o'er  the  deep  ? 
Afk  Lagos'  fummits  that  beheld  your  fate, 
Aflc  Calpe's  jutting  front,  fair  caufe  of  endlefs 

hate,' 
Yet  'midft  the  loudeft  blafts  of  fame, 

When  moft  the  admiring  nations  gaze, 
What  to  herfelf  does  Britain  claim? 

— Not  to  herfelf  fhe  gives  the  praife, 
But  low  in  duft  her  head  fhe  bows, 
And  proftratc  pays  her  grateful  vows 
To  Him,  the  Almighty  Power,  by  whofe  decree 
She  reigns,  and  flill  fhall  reign,  fole  emprefs  of 
the  fea. 

ODE  XXXIX. 
FOR   HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNI  4.  1780. 

STILL  o'er  the  deep  does  Britain  reign, 
Her  monarch  ftill  the  trident  bears  ; 
Vain-glorious  France,  deluded  Spain, 
,      Have  found  their  boafted  efforts  vain ; 
Vain   as   the    fleeting  fhades,  when  orient  light 
appears. 

As  the  yonng  eagle  to  the  blaze  of  day 

Undazzled  and  undaunted  turns  liia  eyes, 
So  unappall'd,  where  glory  led  the  way, 
'Midft  florins  of  war,  'riiidft  mingling  feas 

and  fkies, 

The  genuine  offspring-  of  the  Brunfwick  name 
Prov'd  his  high  birth's  hereditary  claim, 
And  the  applauding  nation  hail'd  with  joy 
Their  future  hero  in  the  intrepid  boy. 

Prophetic,  as  the  flame  that  fpread 

Round  the  young  lulus'  head, 

Be  that  bleft  omen  of  fuccefs.     The  mufe 

Catches  thence  ecftatic  views; 

Sees  new  laurels  nobly  won, 

As  the  circling  year  rolls  on ; 

Sees  that  triumphs  of  its  own 

Each,  diftinguifh'd  month  fhall  crown; 


ODES. 


$71 


And,  ere  this  feftive  day  again 

Returns  to  wake  the  grateful  {train, 

Sees  all  that  hoft  of  foes, 

Both  to  her  glory  and  repofe, 
Bencl  their  proud  necks  beneath  Britannia's  yoke, 
And  court  that  peace  which  their  injuftice  broke. 

Still  o'er  the  deep  fhall  Britain  reign, 
Her  monarch  (till  the  trident  bear; 

The  warring  world  is  leagn'd  in  vain 
To  conquer  thofc  who  know  not  fear. 

Grafp'd  be  the  fpear  by  ev'ry  hand, 
Let  every  heart  united  glow, 

Collected,  like  the  Theban  band, 
Can  Britain  dread  a  foe  ? 

No !  o'er  the  deep  fhe  ftill  fliall  reign, 
Her  monarch  itill  the  trident  bear : 

The  warring  world  is  leagu'd  in  vain 
To  conquer  thofe  who  know  not  fear. 

ODE  XL. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YEAR  1781. 

ASK  round  the  world,  from  age  to  age, 
Not  where  alone  th'  hiftorian's  page 
Or  poet's  fong  have  juft  attention  .won  : 
Bu.t  even  the  feebleft  voice  of  fame 
Has  learnt  to  lifp  Britannia's  name, 
Afk  of  her  inborn  worth,  and  deeds  of  high  renown ! 

What  power  from  Lufitania*broke 

The  haughty  Spaniard's  galling  yoke  ?  [ring? 

Who  bade  the  Belgian  mounds  with  freedom 
Who  fix'd  fo  oft  with  ftrength  fupreme 
Unbalanc'd  Europe's  nodding  beam, 

And  rais'd  the  Auftrian  eagle's  drooping  wing  ? 
'Twas  Britain  '. — Britain  heard   the  nations 

groan, 

As  jealous  of  their  freedom  as  her  own  ! 
Where'er  her  valiant  troops  fhe  led, 
Check'd  and  abafh'd,  and  taught  to  fear, 

The  earth's  proud  tyrants  ftopp'd  their  mad 
career ;  [fled. 

To  Britain  Gallia  bow'd;  from  Britain  Julius 

Why  then,  when  round  her  fair  proteclrefs' 
brow  [blow, 

The    dark    clouds  gather,  and  the  tempefts 
With  folded  arms,  at  eafe  reclin'd, 
Does  Europe  fit  ?  or,  more  unkind, 

Why  fraudulently  aid  the  infidious  plan? 

The  foes  of  Britain  are  the  foes  of  man. 

Alas !  her  glory  foars  too  high ; 

Her  radiant  ftar  of  liberty 
Has  bid  too  long  th  aftonim'd  nations  gaze  ; 

That  glory  which  they  once  admir'd, 

That  glory  in  their  caufe  acquir'd, 
That  glory  burns  too  bright,  they  cannot  bear 
the  blaze. 

Then  Britain,  by  experience  wife, 
Court  not  an  envious  or  a  timid  friend; 

Firm  in  thyfelf  undaunted  rife, 
On  thy  own  arm  and  righteous  Heaven  depend. 

So  as  in  great  Eliza's  days, 

On  felf-fupported  pinions  borne, 

Again  flialt  thou  look  down  with  fcorn 
On  an  oppofipg  world,  $nd  all  its  wily  w.iys : 


Grown  greater  from  diftrefs, 
And  eag^r  ftill  to  blefs. 
As  truly  generous  as  thou'rt  truly  brave, 
Again  (halt  crufli  the  proud,  again  the  conquer'd 
five. 

ODE  XLI. 

FOR   HIS    MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4. 1781. 
STILL  does  the  rage  of  war  prevail, 

Still  thirds  for  blood  th'  infatiate  fpear  ? 
Waft  not,  ye  winds,  th'  invidious  tale, 
Nor  let  th'  untutor'd  nation^  hear, 
That  paflion  baffles  reafon's  boafted  reign, 
And  half  the  peopled  world  is  civilized  in  vain, 
What  are  morals,  what  are  laws, 
What  religion's  facred  name  ? 
Nor  morals  Ibften,  nor  religion  awes : 
Pure  though  the  precepts  flow,  the  actions  are 

the  lame. 
Revenge,  and  pride,  and  deadly  hate, 

And  avarice  tainting  deep  the  mind, 
With  alt  the  fury  fiends  that  wait, 

As  torturing  plagues,  on  human  kind, 
When  fhown  in  their  own  native  light, 
In  truth's  clear  mirror  heavenly  bright, 

Like  real  monfters  rife; 
But  let  illufion's  powerful  wand 
Transform,  arrange,  the  hideous  band, 

They  cheat  us  in  difguife  ; 
We  dreis  their  horrid  forms  in  borrow'd  rays, 
Then  call  them  glory,  and  purfue  the  blaze. 

O  blind  to  nature's  focial  plan, 

And  Heaven's  indulgent  end  ! 
Her  kinder  laws  knit  man  to  man, 

As  brother  and  as  friend. 
Nature,  intent  alone  to  blefs, 

Bids  ftrife  and  difcord  ceafe ; 
u  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleafantnefs, 

"  And  all  her  paths  are  peace." 
Ev'n  this  aufpicious  day  would  wear 

A  brighter  face  of  joy  ferene; 
And  not  one  ruifling  gale  of  care 

Difturb  the  halcyon  fcene ; 
On  lighter  wings  would  zephyr  more,  4 

The  fun  with  added  luftre  mine, 
Did  peace  defconding  from  above, 

Here  fix  her  earthly  fhrine ; 
Here  to  the  monarch's  fondelt  prayer 

A  juft  attention  yield, 
And  let  him  change  the  fword  of  war 
For  her  protecting  fhield. 

ODE  XLII. 

FOR   THE   NEW-YEAR  lySz. 

O  WOND'ROUS  power  of  inborn  worth, 
When  danger  calls  ift  fpirit  forth, 
And  ftrong  neceflity  compels 
The  fecret  fprings  to  burft  their  narrow  cells ! 
Though- foes  unnumber'd  gird  her  round, 
Though  not  one  friend  is  faithful  found, 

Though  impious  fcorn  derides, 
Yet  ftill  unmov'd  amidft  the  band, 
Like  her  own  rocks,  does  Britain  {land, 

And  braves  th'  infulting  tides. 
A  world  in  arms  aflaults  her  reigHj 
A  world  iu  ^rms,  ajQiauJts  in  vain. 


9?* 


THE  WORKS   OF 


'Tis  Britain  calls,  ye  nations,  hear  ? 

Unbrace  the  corfelit,  drop  the  fpear, 

No  more  th'  infidious  toil  purfue, 
Nor  ftrive  to  weaken  what  you  can't  fubdue. 

'Tis  Britain  calls :  with  fatal  fpeed 

You  urge,  by  headlong  fury  led, 
Your  own  impending  fate. 

Too  late  you'll  weep,  too  late  you'll  find, 

'T\vas  for  the  glory  <jf  mankind, 
That  Britain  fhould  be  great. 
In  Britain's  voice,  'tis  freedom  calls, 
For  freedom  dies,  if  Britain  falls. 

She  cannot  fall ;  the  fame  Almighty  hand 
That  rais'd  her  white  rocks  from  the  main, 
Does  ftill  her  arduous  caufe  maintain,       !_land. 

Still  grafps  the  (hie  Id  that  guards  her  favour'd 

Obedient  to  his  word. 
Not  to  ddlroy,  but  to  reclaim, 

Th'  avenging  angel  waves  the  flaming  fword : 
Revere  his  awful  name  ! 
Repentant  in  the  dufl, 
Confefs  his  judgments  juft  ; 

Th'  avenging  fword  (hall  ceafe  to  wave, 

And  whom  his  mercy  fpares,  his  power  (hall  favc. 

ODE  XLIII. 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4. 1782. 

STILL  does  reluctant  peace  refufe, 
Though  courted  by  each  generous  mind, 

To  ftied  her  panacean  dues, 

And  heal  the  madnefs  of  mankind  ! 

Muft  this  aufpicious  day  again 

Be  clo\ided  with  one  anxious  care, 
And  powers  malignant  render  vain       [pray'r  ! 
The  monarch's  fondeft  wi(h,  the  people's  general 

O  no  !  in  yonder  pregnant  fky, 

Whence  all  our  hopes  and  bleffings  fpring, 
New  hurtling  fcenes  of  glory  lie, 

And  future  joys  are  on  the  wing  ! 
The  ling'ring  morn,  'that  coyly  fheds 
On  broken  clouds  and  mountain-heads 

At  firft  a  glimmering  ray, 
Now  brighter  and  now  brighter  glows, 
Wide  and  more  wide  the  luilre  flows, 

'Till  all  is  future  day, 
And  earth/  rejoicing  in  ethereal  light, 
Forgets  the  dreary  damps,  and  live-long  (hades 
of  night. 

Satiate  of  war,  whofe  mud  escefs 

No  bound,  no  kind  reftriction  knows, 
But  marks  its  progrefs  with  diftrefs, 

The  willing  world  fhall  feefc  repofe  ; 
And  Belgia,  waking  from  her  dreams 
Of  Gallic  frauds,  illufiva  fchem.es. 
Shall  add  new  ftrength  to  concord's  chain, 
And  know  her  ancient  friends  again. 

While  thofc,  whom  nearer  ties  unite, 

Whom  all  the  charities  combine, 
Shall  backward  turn  their  trembling  fight, 

And  deprecate  the  wrath  divine  : 
'Midfl  bleeding  heap=;  of  brothers  flain, 
'Midft  deflation's  horrid  reign, 

And  all  its  complicated  wc;s, 
With  wild  affright  ia  every  face, 


W.    WHITE  HE  AD. 

Shaii  i'train  more  clofe  the  ftri&  embrace, 
And  wonder  they  could  e'er  be  foes. 

O  pleafing  hope,  O  blefl:  prefige 
Of  joys  to  Lift  from  age  to  age !  [approve, 

For  what  Heaven's  felf  commands  rmift  Heavej( 
Returning  amity,  and  mutual  love  ! 

And  hark !  on  yonder  weftern  main 

Imperious  France  is  taught  to  know, 
That  Britain  reaflumes  her  reign : 
Her  thunders  only  flept,  to  flrike  the  deeper  blow. 

Ye  nations,  hear  !  the  Gallic  ftar, 
-Shorn  of  its  beams,  th'  horizon  leaves  j 

That  fatal  firebrand  of  the  war 
No  longer  dazzles  and  deceives. 

Record  it  in  the  fairefl  light 

Of  faithful  hillory's  future  page, 
"  They  only  triumph'd,  whilft  they  fhunn'd 
"  the  fight, 

"  We,  when  we  forc'd  them  to  engage." 

ODE  XLIV. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YEAR  1783. 

Yz  nations,  hear  th'  important  tale— 
Though  armies  prefs,  though  fleets  afliiil, 
Though  vengeful  war's  collected  (lores 
At  once  united  Eourbon  pours 
Unmov'd  amidft  th'  infulting  bands, 
Emblem  of  Britain,  Calpe  (lands —     [mourn, 
Th'     all-conquering    hofts    their    baffled    efforts 
And,  though  the  wreath's  prepar'd,  unwreath'd 
the  chiefs  return. 

.      Ye  nations,  hear  !  nor  fondly  deem 

Britannia's  ancient  fpirit  fled; 
Or  giofing  weep  her  fettihg  beam, 

Whofe    fierce    meridian    rays    her  rivals 

dread — 

Her  genius  flept — her  genius  wakes — 
Nor  flrength  deferts  her,  nor  high  Heaven 
forfakes. 

To  Heaven  (he  bends,  and  Heaven  alone, 

Who  all  her  wants,  her  weaknefs 'knows, 
And  fupp.licates  th'  eternal  Throne 

To  fpare  her  crimes,  and  heal  her  woes. 
Proud  man  with  vengeance  ftill 
Purfues,  and  aggravates  e'en  fancied  ill ; 
Far  gentler  means  offended  Heaven  employs, 

With  mercy   Heaven    corrects diaflifes,   not 

deftroys. 

When  hope's  lafl  gleam  can  hardly  dare 
To  pierce  the  gloom,  and  footh  dcfpair; 
When  flames  th'  uplifted  bolt  on  high, 
In  -a.&  to  cleave  th'  offended  fky, 
Its  iffuing  wrath  can  Heaven  reprefs, 
And  win  to  virtue  by  fuccefs. 

Then  O  !  to  Heaven's  protecting  hand 
Be  praife,  be  prayer  addreft, 

Whofe  mercy  bids  a  guilty  land 
Be  virtuous,  and  be  blefl ! 

So  fhall  the  fifing  year  regain 
The  erring  feafons  wonted  chain  ; 
The  rolling  months  that  gird  the  fphert. 
Again  their  wonted  liveries  wear ; 


O    D    E    £», 


And  health  breathe  frefh  in  every  gale, 
And  plenty  clothe  each  fmilu'.g  vale 
With  all  the  bleffmgs  n.iture  yields 
To  temperate  funs  from  fertile  fields. 

-So  fhall  the  proud  be  taught  •:.->  b.»w, 

Pale  envy's  fierce  contentions  ceafe, 

The  lea  once  more  it    Ibvereign  know, 

And  glory  gild  the  wreath  of  peace. 

ODE  XLV. 
EOR  ins  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4. 1783 

AT  length  the  troubled  waters  reft, 
And,  fhadowing  ocean's  calmer  bread, 

Exulting  commerce  fpreads  her  woven  wings  : 
Free  as  the  winds  that  waft  them  o'er, 
Her  idiiing  veffels  glide  from  fh«re  to  fhore, 

And  in  the  bending  (hrouds  the  carclefs  fea-boy 
fingr. 

Is  peace  a  blefling  ? — Aflothe  mind 
That  glows  with  love  of  human  kind, 
That  knows  no  guile,  no  partial  weaknefs  knows, 
Contracted  to  no  narrow  fphere, 
The  world,  the  world  at  large  is  umpire  here  ; 
They  feel,  and  they  enjoy,   the    bleffings  peace 

bellows. 

Then,  oh  !  what  blifs  his  bofom  (hares, 
Who,  confcious  of  ingenuous  worth, 
Can  nobly  fcorn  inferior  cares, 

And  fend  the  generous  edift  forth; 
To  cliftant  fighs  of  modeft  woe 

Can  lend  a  pitying  lift'ning  ear, 
Nor  fee  the  mcaned  farrows  flow 
Without  a  fympathifing  tear. 

Though  rapine  with  her  fury  train 
.  Rove  wide  and  wild  o'er  earth  and  main, 

In  act  to  ftrike,  though  flaughter  cleave  the  air, 
At  his  command  they  drop  the  fword, 
And  in  their  midway  courfe  his  potent  word 

Arrefts  the  fhafts  of  death,  of  terror,  of  defpair. 

When  thofe  who  have  the  power  to  blefs, 

Are  readied  to  relieve  didrefs, 
When  private  virtues  dignify  a  crown, 

The  genuine  fons  of  freedom  feel 

A  duty  which  tranfcends  a  lubje&'s  zeal, 
And  dread  the  man's  reproach  more  than   the 
t  monarch's  frown. 

Then  to  this  day  be  honours  paid 

The  world's  proud  conqu'rors  never  knew; 
Their  laurels  fhrink,  their  glories  fade, 

ExposM  to  reafon's  fober  view. 
But  reafon,  juftice,  truth  rejoice, 

When  difcord's  baneful  triumphs  ceafe, 
And  hail,  with  one  united  voice, 

The  friend  of  man,  the  friend  of  peace. 

ODE  XL VI. 

FOR.  THE  NEW-YEAR  1724. 

ENOUGH  of  arms — to  happier  ends 
Her  forward  view  Britannia  bends; 
The  gen'rous  hods,  who  grafp'd  the  f-.vord, 
Obedient  to  her  awful  word, 


973 


Though  martial  glory  ceafc, 
Shall  now,  with  equal  indudry, 
Like  Rome's  brave  ions,  when  Rome  was  free, 

Refume  the  arts  of  peace. 

O  come,  ye  toil-worn  wand'rers,  come 
To  genial  hearths,  atid  focial  home, 

The  tender  houfewife's  bufy  care ; 
The  board  with  temperate  plenty  crown'd; 
The  fmiling  progeny  around, 

That  liden  to  the  tale  of  war. . 

Yet  be  not  war  the  fav'rite  theme, 

For  what  has  war  with  blifs  to  do? 

Teach  them  more  jufily  far  to  deem, 
And  own  experience  taught  it  you. 

Teach  them,  'tis  in  the  will  cf  fate, 

Their  frugal  indudry  alone 
Can  make  their  country  truly  great, 

And  in  her  blifs  fecure  their  own. 

Be  all  the  fongs  that  footh  their  toil, 

And  bid  the  brow  of  labour  fmile, 

When  through  the  loom  the  fhuttle  glides, 
Or  mining  fhare  the  glebe  divides, 
Or,  bending  to  the  woodman's  droke, 
To  waft  her  commerce,  falls  the  Britifli  oak- 
Be  all  their  fongs,  that  foften  thefe, 

Of  calm  content  and  future  well-earn'd  eafe ; 
Nor  dread,  led  inborn  fpirit  die  : 

One  glorious  leffon,  early  taught, 
Will  all  the  boafted  powers  fupply 

Of  practifed  rules  and  dudied  thought. 
From  ths  fird  dawn  of  reafon's  ray 
On  the  young  bofom's  yielding  clay, 
Strong  be  their  country's  love  impred, 

And  with  your  own  example  tire  their  bread. : 
Tell  them  'tis  theirs  to  grafp  the  fword 
When  Britain  gives  the  awful  word  ; 

Tc  bleed,  to 'die,  in  Britain's  caafe, 
And  guaid,  from  fa&ion  nobly  free, 
Their  birth-right  blefling,  liberty, 
True  liberty,  that  loves  the  laws. 

ODE  XL VII. 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1784. 

HAIL  to  the  day,  whofe  beams,  again 
Returning,  claim  the  choral  drain, 
And  bid  us  breathe  our  annual  vows 
To  the  fuft  power  that  Britain  knows ; 
The  power  which,  though  itfelf  redrain'd, 
And  fubjecT:  to  that  jud  controul 
Which,  many  an  arduous  conflict,  gain'd, 
Connects,  unites,  and  animates  the  whole. 

Yon  radiant  fun,  whofe  central  force 
Winds  back  each  planet's  vagrant  courfe, 
'  And  through  the  fydems  holds  imperial  fway, 
Bound  by  the  fam<;  inherent  laws, 
Ev'n  whilf:  it  feemsthe  adtive  caiife,        [they. 
Promotes  the  general  good,  as  much  confin'd  as 

That  wond'rous  plan,  through  ages  fought, 
Which  elder  Egypt  never  taught, 
Nor  Greece  with  all  her  letter'd  lore, 
Nor  druggling  Rome,  could  e'er  explore, 


574  THE   WORKS   OF 

Though  many  a  form  of  rule  fhe  tried  ; 
That  wond'rous  plan  has  Britain  found, 
Which  curbs  licentioufnefs  and  pride, 
Yet  leaves  true  liberty  without  a  wound. 

T,he  fierce  Plantagenets  beheld 
Its  growing  ftrength,  and  deign'd  to  yield  ; 
Th*    imperious  Tudors    frown'd,    and    felt    ag- 

friev'd; 
appy  race,  whofe  faults  we  mourn, 
Delay'd  awhile  its  wifti'd  return,  [chiev'd. 

»Till  Brunfwick  perfe&ed  what  Naffau  had  at- 

From  that  bright  era  of  renown, 
Aftrea  walks  the  world  again, 

Her  fabled  form  the  nations  own, 
With  all  th'  attendant  virtues  in  her  train. 

Hark !  with  what  general  loud  acclaim 
They  venerate  the  Britifti  name , 
"When  forms  of  rule  are  in  the  balance  weigh'd,    - 
And  pour  their  torrents  of  applaufe 
On  the  fair  ifle,  whofe  equal  laws 
Controul  the  fceptre,  and  proted  the  fpade. 

The  triple  chain,  which  binds  them  faft, 
Like  Homer's  golden  one,  defcends  from  Jove ; 

Long  may  the  facred  union  laft, 

And  the  mixt  powers  in  mutual  concert  move, 

Each  tempering  each,  and  liftening  to  the  call 

Of  genuine  public  good,  bleft  fource  and  end  of 

all! 

ODE  XLVIII. 

FOR  THE  NEW-YEAR  1785. 

DELUSIVE  is  the  poet's  dream, 

Or  does  prophetic  truth  infpire 
The  zeal  which  prompts  the  glowing  theme, 

And  animates  th'  according  lyre  ? 

Truft  the  mufe :  her  eye  commands 

Diftant  times  and  diftant  lands ; 

Through  burfting  clouds,  in  opening  ikies, 

Sees  from  dlfcord  union  rife  ; 


W.   W  HI  TEH  E  AD. 

And  friendfhip  bind  unwilling  foe3 
In  firmer  ties  than  duty  knows. 

Torn  rudely  from  its  parent  tree, 

Yon  fcyon  rifmg  in  the  weft 
Will  foon  its  genuine  glory  fee, 

And  court  again  the  foftering  breaft, 
Whofe  nurture  gave  its  powers  to  fpread, 
And  feel  their  force,  and  lift  an  alien  head. 

The  parent  tree,  when  ftorms  impend, 
Shall  own  affection's  warmth  again  ; 
Again  its  foftering  aid  fhall  lend, 

Nor  hear  the  fuppliant  plead  in  vain  ; 
Shall  ftretch  protecting  branches  round, 
Extend  the  fhelter,  and  forget  the  wound. 

Two  Britains  through  th'  admiring  world 

Shall  wing  their  way  with  fails  unfurl'd  ; 

Each  from  the  other's  kindred  ftate 

Avert  by  turns  the  bolts  of  fate ; 
And  adts  of  mutual  amity  endear 
The  Tyre  and  Carthage  of  a  wider  fpherc. 

When  Rome's  divided  eagles  flew, 
And  different  thrones  her  empire  knew, 
The  varying  language  foon  disjoin'd 
The  boaftcd  mafters  of  mankind : 
But  here,  no  ills  like  thofe  we  fear, 
No  varying  language  threatens  here  ; 
Congenial  worth,  congenial  flame, 
Their  manners  and  their  arts  the  fame, 
To  the  fame  tongue  ftiall  glowing  themes  afford, 

And  Britifti  heroes  act,  and  Britifti  bards  record. 
Flyfwift,  ye  years!  ye  minutes  hafte  ! 
And  in  the  future  lofe  the  paft ; 
O'er  many  a  thought-afflicting  tale, 
Oblivion,  caft  thy  friendly  veil ! 
Let  not  memory  breathe  a  Cgh, 
Or  backward  turn  th'  indignant  eye  ; 
Nor  the  infidious  arts  of  foes 
Enlarge  the  breach  that  longs  to  clofe, 
But  a<fts  of  amity  alone  infpire 

Firm  faith,  and  cordial  love,  and  wake   the  wil 
ling  lyre. 


PROLOGUES  AND  EPILOGUES. 


PROLOGUE  TO  THE  ROMAN  FATHER  . 

SPOKEN  BY  MR.  BARRY,    I7JO. 

BRITONS,  to-night  in  native  pomp  we  come, 
True  heroes  all,  from  virtuous  ancient  Rome  ; 
Jn  thofe  far  diftant  times  when  Romans  knew 
The  fweets  of  guarded  liberty,  like  you  ; 
And,  fafe  from  ills  which  force  or  faction  brings, 
Saw  freedom  reign  beneath  the  fmile  of  kings. 
Yet  from  fuch  times,  and  fuch  plain  chiefs  as 

thefe, 
What  can  we  frame  a  polifh'd  age  to  pleafe  ? 


Say,  can  you  liften  to  the  artlefs  woes 
Of  an  old  tale,  which  every  fchool-boy  knows  ? 
Where  to  your  hearts  alone  the  fcenes  apply, 
No  merit  their's  but  pure  fimplicity. 

Our  bard  has  play'd  a  moft  adventurous  part, 
And  turn'd  upon  himfelf  the  critic's  art ; 
Stripp'd   each    luxuriant    plume    from    fancy's 

wings, 

And  torn  up  fimfles  like  vulgar  things : 
Nay  ev'n  each  moral,  fentimental,  ftroke, 
Where  not  the  character,  but  poet  fpoke, 
He  lopp'd,  as  foreign  to  his  chafte  defign, 
Nor  fpar'd  an  ufelefs,  though  a  golden  linr , 


PROLOGUES  AND  EPILOGUES. 


Thefe  are  his  arts  ;  if  thefe  cannot  atone 
For  all  thofe  namelcfs  errors  yet  unknown ; 
If,  fhunning  faults  which  nobler  bards  commit, 
He  wants  their  force  to  fcrike  th'  attentive  pit; 
Be  juft,  and  tell  him  fo  ;  he  afks  advice, 
Willing  to  learn,  and  would  not  afk  it  twice. 
Your  kind  applaufe  may  bid  him  write — beware  ! 
Or  kinder  cenfure  teach  him  to  forbear. 

EPILOGUE  TO  THE  SAME. 

SPOKEN   BY  MRS.  PRITCHARD,    IJJO. 

LADIES,  by  me  our  courteous  author  fends 
His  compliments  to  all  his  female  friends; 
And  thanks  them  from  his  foul  for  every  bright 
Indulgent  tear,  which  they  have  fhed  to-night. 
Sorrow  in  virtue's  caufe  proclaims  a  mind, 
And  gives  to  beauty  graces  more  refin'd. 
O  who  could  bear  the  lovelieft  form  of  art, 
A  cherub's  face,  without  a  feeling  heart ! 
'Tis  there  alone,  whatever  charms  we  boaft, 
Though  men  may  natter,  and  though  men  will 

toaft, 

'Tis  there  alone  they  find  the  joy  fincere  ; 
The  wife,  the  parent,  and  the  friend,  are  there : 
All  elfe,  the  verieft  rakes  themfelves  muft  own, 
Are  but  the  paltry  play-things  of  the  town ; 
The  painted  clouds,  which  glittering  tempt  the 

chace, 
Then  melt  in  air,  and  mock  the  vain  embrace. 

Well  then  ;  the  private  virtues,  'tis  confeft, 
Are  the  foft  inmates  of  the  female  breaft. 
But  then,  they  fill  fo  full  that  crowded  fpace, 
That  the  poor  public  feldom  finds  a  place. 
'And  I  fufpe6t  there's  many  a  fair  one  here, 
Who  pour'd  her  forrows  on  Horatio's  bier, 
That  ftill  retains  fo  much  of  flefh  and  blood, 
She'd  fairly  hang  the  brother,  if  (he  could. 

Why,  ladies,  to  be  fure,  if  that  be  all, 
At  your  tribunal  he  muft  ftand  or  fall. 
Whate'er  his  country  or  his  fire  decreed, 
You  are  his  judges  now,  and  he  muft  plead. 

Like  other  culprit-youths,  he  wanted  gr^ce; 
But  could  have  no  felf-intereft  in  the  cafe. 
Had  fhe  been  wife,  or  miftrefs,  or  a  friend, 
It  might  have  anfwer'd  fome  convenient  end  : 
But  a  mere  fifter,  whom  he  lov'd — to  take 
Her  life  away — and  for  his  country's  fake  ! 
Faith,  ladies,  you  may  pardon  him ;  indeed 
There's  very  little  fear  the  crime  Ihould  fpread. 
True  patriots  are  but  rare  among  the  men, 
And  really  might  be  ufeful,  now  and  then. 
Then  do  not  check,  by  your  difapprobation,       ~) 
A  fpirit  which  once  rul'd  the  Britifh  nation,       / 
And  ftill  might  rule — would  you  but  fet  the  fa-f" 
fluon.  J 

PROLOGUE 

TO  EVERT  MAN  IN   HIS  HUMOUR. 
Sfoken  by  Mr.  Garrict,  1751. 

CRITICS  !  your  favour  is  our  author's  right— 
The  well-known  fcenes  we  (hail  prefent  to-night, 
Are  no  weak  efforts  of  a  modern  pen, 
But  the  ftrong  touches  of  immortal  Ben  ; 
A  rough  old  bard,  \vhofe  honeft  pride  difdain'd 
Applauie  itfelf,  unkfs  by  merit  gain'd— - 


973 


And  would  to-night  your  loudeft  praife  difclaim,") 
Should  his  great  fhadc  perceive  the  doubtful  f 
fame,  f 

Not  to  his  labours  granted,  but  his  name.          j 
Boldly  he  wrote,  and  boldly  told  the  age, 
He  dar'd  not  proftitute  the  ufeful  ftage, 
Or  purchafe  their  delight  at  fuch  a  rate, 
As  for  it  he  himfelf  muft  juftly  hate  ; 
But  rather  begg'd  they  would  be  pleas'd  to  fee 
From  him  fuch  plays  as  other  plays  fhould  be  ; 
Would  learn  from  him  to  fcorn  a  motley  fcene, 
And  leave  their  monfters,  to  be  pleas'd  with 
"  men.''  [chang'd, 

Thus  fpoke  the  bard. — And  though  the  times  are 
Since  his  free  mufe  for  fools  the  city  rang'd ; 
And  fatire  had  not  then  appear'd  in  ftate, 
To  lafh  the  finer  follies  of  the  great ; 
Yet  let  not  prejudice  infeft  your  mind, 
Nor  flight  the  gold,  becaufe  not  quite  refin'd; 
With  no  falfc  nicenefs  this  performance  view, 
Nor  damn  for  low,  whate'er  is  jtift  and  true  : 
Sure,  to  thofe  fcenes  fome  honour  fhould  be  paid, 
Which  Camden  patroniz'd,  and  Shakfpeare  play 'd  ; 
Nature  was  nature  then,  and  ftill  furvives; 
The  garb  may  alter,  but  the  fubftance  lives, 
Lives  in  this  play — where  each  may  find  complete, 
His  pi<5tur'd  fell" Then  favour  the  deceit- 
Kindly  forget  the  hundred  years  between ; 
Become  old  Britons,  and  admire  old  Ben. 

PROLOGUE  TO  CREUSA. 

SPOKEN  BY  MR.  ROSS,   1754. 

PROLOGUES  of  old,  the  learn'd  in  language  fay, 
Were  merely  introductions  to  the  play, 
Spoken-  by  gods,  or  ghofts,  or  men  who  knew 
Whate'er  was  previous  to  the  fcenes  in  view; 
And  cornplaifantly  came  to  lay  before  ye 
The  feveral  heads  and  windings  of  the  ftory. 

But  modern  times  and  Britifh  rules  are  fuch, 
Our  bards  beforehand  muft  not  tell  too  much ; 
Nor  dare  we,  like  the  neighb'ring  French,  admit 
Ev'n  confidants,  who  might  inftrucl  the  pit, 
By  afking  queftions  of  the  leading  few, 
And  hearing  fecrets,  which  before  they  knew. 

Yet  what  we  can  to  help  this  antique  piece 
We  will  attempt. — Our  fcene  to-night  is  Greece, 
And  by  the  magic  of  the  poet's  rod, 
This  ftage  the  temple  of  the  Delphic  'god ! 
Where  kings,  and  chiefs,  and  fages  came  of  old, 
Like  modern  fools,  to  have  their  fortunes  told  ; 
And  monarchs  were  enthron'd,  or  nations  freed, 
As  an  old  prieft,  or  wither'd  maid,  decreed. 
Yet  think  not  all  were  equally  deceiv'd, 
Some  knew,  more  doubted,  many  more  believ'd. 
In  fhort,  thefe  oracles  and  witching  rhymes 
Were  but  the  pious  frauds  of  ancient  times ; 
Wifely  contriv'd  to  keep  mankind  in  awe, 
When  faith  was  wonder,  and  religion  law ! 

Thus  much  premis'd,  to  ev'ry  feeling  breafl 
We  leave  the  fcenes  themfelves  to  tell  the  reft. 

— Yet  fomething  fure  was  to  the  critics  faid, 
Which  I  forget — fome  invocation  made ! 

Ye  critic  bands,  like  jealous  guardians,  plac'd 
To  watch  th'  encroachments  on  the  realms  of  tailc, 
From  you  our  author  would  two  boons  obtain, 
Not  wholly  diffident,  nor  wholly  vain  : 
Two  things  he  afks ;  'tis  modeft,  fure,  from  you 
Who  can  do  all  things,  to  reqUeft  but  two  : 


THE   WORKS   OF   \V.   WHITEHEAD. 


Firft  to  his  fcenes  a  kind  attention  pay, 

Then  judge  ! — with  candour  judge — and, we  obey. 

EPILOGUE  T0  THE  SAME. 

SPOKEN    BY    MISS  HAUGKTON,    WHO  ACTED  THE 
PYTHIA,   1754. 

AT  length  I'm  freed  from  tragical  parade, 
No  more  a  Pythian  prieflefs — though  a  maid  ; 
At  once  refigning,  with  my  facred  dwelling. 
My  wreaths,  my  wand,  my  arts  of  fortune-telling. 

Yet  fuperftitious  folks,  no  doubt  are  here, 
"Who  ftill  regard  me  with  a  kind  of  fear,' 
iLeft  to  their  fecret  thoughts  thefe  prying  eyes 
Should  boldly  pafs,  and  take  them  by  furprife. 
Nay,  though  I  difavow  the  whole  deceit, 
And  fairly  own  my  fcience  all  a  cheat, 
Should  I  declare,  in  fpite  of  ears  and  eyes, 
The  beaus  were  handfome,  or  the  critics  xvife, 
They'd  all  believe  it,  and  with  dear  delight 

Bay  to  themfelvet  at  leaft [right." 

•*  The  girl  has   tafte ;''  "  The  woman's   in  the 

Or  fhould  I  tell  the  ladies,  fodifpos'6", 
They'd  get  good  matches  ere  the  leafon  cios'd, 
They'd  fmile,  perhaps,  with  feeming  difcontent, 
And,  fneering,  wonder  what  the  creature  meant ; 
!But  whifper  to  their  friends,  with  beating  heart, 
•'  Suppofe  there  fhould  be  fomething  in  her  art !" 
Grave  ftatefmen  too  would  chuckle,  fhould  I  fay, 
On  fuch  a  motion,  and  by  fuch  a  day, 
They  would  be  fummon'd-frcm  their  own  affairs, 
To  'tend  the  nation's  more  important  cares  : 
•e  Well,  if  I  muft — howe'er  1  dread  the  load, 
"  I'll  undergo  it — for  my  country's  good.", 

All  men  are  bubbles  j  in  a  fkilful  hand, 
The  ruling  paflion  is  the  conjurer's  wand. 
"Whether  we  praife.  foretel,  perfuade,  adviie, 
'Tij  that  alone  confirms  us  fools  or  wile. 
The  devil  without  may  fpread  the  tempting  fin, 
But  the  fure  conqueror  is— the  devii  within. 

A  SECOND-  EPILOGUE  TO  THE  SAME. 

SPOKEN  BY   MRS.   PRITCHARD,    I7J4- 

FTAT,  ladies — Though  I'm  almoft.  tir'd  to  death 
Wit/'  this  long  part — and  am  fo  out  of  breath — 
'Yet  lu'.b  a  lucky  thought  kind  Heaven  has  ,rcnt, 
T  l-.'t,  if  I  die  foi't,  I  muft  give  it  vent.         fpofe, 
*  The  men  you  know  are  gone.   And  now  fup- 
Eeforc  our  lords  and  matters  are  rechofe, 
We  take  th'  advantage  of  an  en:pty  town, 
And  chocfc  a  Houfe  of  Commons  of  our  own. 
V.'hut  think  ye,  cannot  we  make  laws? — and  then 
Cannot  we  too  unmake  them,  like  the  men  ? 
O  place  us  once  in  good  St.  Stephen's  pews, 
We'll  {how  them  women  have  their  public  ufe ! 
Imprimis  they  fhall  marry  ;  not  a  man 
Paft  twenty-five,  but  what  fhall  wear  the  chain. 
Next  we'll  in  earneft  fet  about  reclaiming ; 
For  by  my  life  and  foul,  we'll  put  down  gaming: 
We'll  fpoil  their  deep  deftruclive  midnight  play  ; 
The  laws  we  make,  we'll  force  them  to  obey; 
Unlefs  we.  let  them,  when  their  fpirits  flag, 
Piddle  with  us,  ye  know,  at  quinze  and  brag. 
"  I  hope,  my  deareft,"  faysfome  well-bred  Ipoufe 
"  When  fuch  a  bill  {hall  come  before  your  houfe 

*   Tils  epilogue  -was  f^tett  at  iln  tint  of  a  genera 


That  you'll  confider  men  are  men— nt  leafl  • 

That  you'll  not  fpeak,  my  dear." — Notfpeak  ?— 

the  btaft ! 
What,  would  you  wound  my  honour  ? — Wrongs 

like  thelV — 

For  this.  Sir,  I  fhall  bring  you  on  your  knee?. 
— Or  if  we're  quite  good-natured,  tell  the  man, 
We'll  do  him  ;dl  the  i'ervice  that  we  can. 

Then  for  ourfelves,  what  projects,  what  defigns! 
We'll  tax,  and  double  tax,  their  nafty  wines  ; 
But,  duty  free,  import  our  blonds  and  laces, 
French  hoops,  French  filks,  Frejich  cambricks,  and 
—French  faces. 

In  fhort,  my  fcheme  is  not  completed  quite, 
But  I  may  tell  you  more  another  night. 
So  come  again,  come  all,  and  let  us  raife 
Such  glorious  trophies  to  our  country's  praife, 
That  all  true  Britons  fhall  with  one  content 
Cry  out, "  Long  live  the  female  parliament !" 

PROLOGUE  TO  THE  ORPHAN  OF  CHINA. 

SPOKEN  BY  MR.  HOLLAND,  I/59- 

ENOCCII  of  Greece  and  Rome.     Th'  exhaufled 

(lore 

Of  either  nation  now  can  charm  no  more  : 
Ev'n  adventitious  helps  in  vain  we  try, 
Oar  triumphs  languifti  in  the  public  eye ; 
And  grave  proceffions,  mufically  flow, 
Here  pafs  unheeded — as  a  Lord  Mayor's  fbow. 

On  eagle  wings  the  poet  of  to-night 
Soars  for  frefh  virtues  to  the  fource  of  light, 
To  China's  eaftern  realms;  and  boldly  bears 
Confucius'  morals  to  Britannia's  ears. 
Accept  th'  imported  boon  ;  as  echoing  Greece 
R.eceiv'd  from  wand'ring  chiefs  her  golden  fleece ; 
Nor  only  richer  by  the  fpoils  become,          [home. 
But  praife  th'  advent'rous  youth  who  brings  them 

One  dubious  character,  we  own,  he  draws, 
A  patriot  zealous  in  a  monarch's  caufe  ! 
Nice  is  the  talk  the  varying  hand  to  guide, 
And  teach  the  blending  colours  to  divide ; 
Where,  rainbow-like,  th'  encroaching  tints  invade 
Each  other's  bounds,  and  mingle  light  with  fhade. 

If  then,  afilduotis  to  obtain  his  end, 
You  find  too  far  the  fubje&'s  zeal  extend  ; 
If  undiftinguifiVd  loyalty  prevails 
Where  nature  fhrinks,  and  flrong  affection  fails, 
On  China's  tenets  charge  the  fond  miftake, 
And  fpare  his  error  for  his  virtue's  fake. 

From  nobler  motives  our  allegiance  fprings, 
For  Britain  knows  no  right  divine  in  kings  ; 
From  freedom's  choice  that  boafled  right  arofe, 
And  through  each  line  from  freedom's  choice  it 

flows. 

Juftice,  with  mercy  join'd,  the  throne  maintains  ; 
Arid  in  his  people's  hearts — our  monarch  reigns. 

PROLOGUE  TO  THE  SCHOOL  FOR  LO 
VERS, 

AS  IT  WAS  INTENDED  TO  HAVE  BEEN  SFOK*>, 
1762. 

SUCCESS  makes  people  vain.— The  maxim's  true, 
We  all  conjjEfs  it — and  not  over  new. 
The  vcv.v.-l:  ciov,  n  who  {lumps  along  the  ftreets, 
And  doffs  his  hat  to  each  grave  cit  he  meets, 


Son\e  twelvemonths  hence,  bedaub'd  with  livery 

lace, 

Shall  ihruil  his  fancy  flambeau  in  your  face. 
Not  fo  \jur  bard  :  though  twice  your  kind  applaufe 
>Has  on  bhis  fickle  fpot  efpous'd  his  caufe, 
He  owns  \vith  gratitude  th'  obliging  debt; 
Has  twice  been  favour'd,  and  is  modefl  yet. 
Plain  tragedy,  his  firil  adventurous  care, 
Spoke  to  your  hearts,  and  found  an  echo  there. 
Plain  comedy  to-night,  with  ftrokca  refin'd, 
Would  catch  the  coyefl  features  of  the  mind ; 
WouM  play  politely  -with  your  hopes  and  fears, 
And  fometimes  iiniles   provoke,   and  fometimes 

tears. 

Your  giant  wits,  like  thofe  of.old,  may  climb 
Olympus  high,  and  flep  o'er  fpace  and  time; 
May  ilride,  with  feven-leagu'd  boots,  from  fhore 

to  fhore, 

And,  nobly  by  tranfgreffing,  charm  you  more. 
Alas !  our  author  dai  cs  not  laugh  at  fchools, 
Plain  lenfe  confines  his  humbler  mufe  to  rules. 
Forrn'd  on  the  clallic  fcale  his  flrucitures  rife, 
He  Ihifts  no  fcenes  to  dazzle  and  furprife. 
In  one  poor  garden's  folitary  grove, 
Like  the  primeval  pair,  his  lovers  rove  ; 
And  in  due  time  will  each  tranfaclion  pars 
— Unlefs  fome  hafly  critic  {hakes  the  giafs. 

PROLOGUE  TO  THE  SAME. 

AS  SPOK1N  BY   MR.  GARRICK,  1763. 

SUCCESS  makes  people  vain. — The  maxim's  true, 
We  all  confefs  it — and  not  over  new.  / 

The  verieft  clown,  who  flumps  along  the  flreets, 
And  doffs  his  hat  to  each  grave  cit  he  meets, 
Some  twelvemonths  hejice,  dedaub'd  with  livery 

lace, 
Shall  thrufl  his  fancy  flambeau  in  your  face. 

Not  fo  our  bard — though  twice  your  kind  ap 
plaufe 

Has  on  this  fickle  fpot  efpous'd  his  caufe, 
He  owns  with  gratitude  th' obliging  debt"; 
Has  twice  been  favour'd,  and  is  modefl  yet. 

Your  giant  wits,  like  thofe  of  old,  may  climb 
Olymptis  high,  and  flep  o'er  fpace  and  time  ; 
May  ftride,  with  feven-leagu'd  boots,  from  fhore 

to  fhore, 

And,  nobly  by  tranfgreffing,  charm  you  more. 
Alas !  our  author  dares  not  laugh  at  fchools — 
Plain  fenfe  confines  his  humbler  mufe  to  rules  : 
He  miits  no  fcene* — But  here  I  ftopp'd  him  fhort — 
"  Not  change  your  fcenes?"  faid  I — "  I'm  forry 

"  for't:" 

"  My  conllant  friends  above,  around,  below, 
"  Have  Englifh  tafles,  and  love  both  change  and 
"  iliow:  [flat— 

"  Without  fuch  aids,  ev'n  Shakfpeare  would  be 
!'  Our  crowded  pantomimes  are  proofs  of  that. 
'  What  eager  tranfport  flares  from  every  eye, 
'  When  pullies  rattle,  and  our  genii  fly  ! 
'  When  tin  cafcades  like  falling  waters  gleam  ; 
'  Or  through  the  canvafs.— burlts  the  real  flrearu, 
'  While  thirfty  Iflington  laments  in  vain 
*•  Half  her  New  River  roll'd  to  Drury-Lane. 
"  Lord,  Sir,"  faid  F,  "  for  gallery,  boxes,  pit, 
"  I'll  back  my  Harlequin  againft  your^wit" 

Yet  llill  the  author,  anxious  for  his  play, 
Shook  his  wife  head—"  What  will  the  critics  fay  ?'' 

VOL.  XI. 


PROLOGUES    AND   EPILOGUES,  977 

"  As  ufual,  Sir — abufe  you  all  they  can !"— - 


"  And  what  the  ladies?"  —  "tie's  a  charming  man! 
"  A  charming  piece  !  —  One  fcarce  knows  what  it 
"  means  ;  [fcenes  !" 

"  But  that's  no  matter—  where  there's  fuch  fweet 

Still  he  perfift.s  —  and  let  him  —  eat  re  nous  — 
.  I  know  your  taftes,  and  will  indulge  'em  too. 
Change  you  fhall  have  ;  fo  fet  your  hearts  at  cafe  : 
Write  as  he  will,  we'll  ad:  it  as  you  plcafe. 

EPILOGUE  TO  THE  SAME. 

Spoken  before  the  fiatue,  Ly  Mrs.  Tates  and  Mr.  Pal- 
tner,  in  the  C'oaraElcrs  of  Araminla  and  Modcly, 
I/6a. 

Araminta. 

WELL,  ladies,  am  I  right,  or  am  I  not  ? 
Should  not  this  foolifh  paflion  be  forgot  ; 
This  fluttering  fomething,  fearce  to  be  exprefl, 
Which  pleads  for  coxcombs  inveach  female  breaft  ? 
How  mortified  he  look'd  !  —  and  looks  fo  flill. 

\Turning  to  Modify. 
He  really  may  repent  —  perhaps  he  will— 

Mtdely. 

Will  Araminta  ?  —  Ladle.-.,  be  fo  good, 
Man's  made  of  frail  materials,  flefh  and  blood, 
We  all  offend  at  fome  unhappy  crifis, 
Have  whims,  caprices,  vanities  —  and  vices. 
Your  happier  fex  by  nature  was  defign'd, 
Her  lad  bell  work,  to  perfect  humankind. 
No  fpot,  no  blemifh,  the  fair  frame  deforms, 
No  avarice  taints,  no  naughty  paflion  warms 
Your  firmer  hearts.  No  love  of  change  in  you 
E'er  taught  defire  to  flray.  - 

Amarinta. 
All  this  is  true. 

Yet  ftay  ;  the  men,  perchance,  may  call  it  fnecr, 
And  fome  few  ladies  think  you  not  fincere. 
For  your  petition,  whether  wrong  or  right, 
Whate'er  it  be,  withdraw  it  for  to-night. 
Another  time,  if  f  fhould  want  a  fpoufe,  "• 
1  may  myfelt  report  it  to  the  houfe  : 
At  prefent,  let  us  ftrive  to  mend  the  age  ; 
Let  juftice  reign,  at  lead  upon  the  flage. 
Where  the  fair  danies,  who  like  to  live  by  rule, 
May  learn  two  leflbns  from  the  Lovers'  School; 
While  Calia's  choice  inftmfls  them  how  te  choofe, 
And  my  refufal  warns  them  to  refufc. 

/ 

PROLOGUE  TO  ALM1DA. 


SPOKEN   BY  MR.  REDDISH, 

CRITICS  be  dumb  —  to-night  a  lady  fues, 
From  foft  Italia's  ihores,  an  Englilh  mufe, 
Though  fate  there  binds'hcr  in  a  pleafing  chrvin, 
"Sends  to  our  flage  the  offspring  of  her  bruin  : 
True  to  her  birth,  flie  pants  for  Britifh  bays, 
And  to  her  country  trufls  for  genuine  praife. 
From  infancy  well  read  in  tragic  lore, 
She  treads  the  path  her  father  trod  before  ; 
To  the  fame  candid  judges  trufls  her  caufe, 
And  hopes  the  fame  indulgence  and  applaufe. 
No  Salic  law  here  bars  the  female's  claim, 
Who  pleads  hereditary  right  to  fame. 

Of  love  and  arms  flic  fings,  the  mighty  two, 
Whoije  powers  uniting  muft  the  world  fubdue  ; 
Of  love  and  arms  !  in  that  heroic  age, 
Which  knew  no  poet's,  no  hiftorian's  page  ; 


978  THE   WORKS    OF 

But  war  to  glory  form'd  the  unletter'd  mind, 
And  chivalry  alone  taught  morals  to  mankind ; 
Nor  taught  in  vain  :  the  youth  who  dar'd  afpire 
To  the  nice  honours  of  a  lover's  fire, 
Obferv'd  with  duteous  care  each  rigid  rule, 
Each  ftern  command  of  labour's  patient  fchool ; 
Was  early  train'd  to  bear  the  fultry  beams 
Of  burning  funs,  and  winter's  fierce  extremes ; 
Was  brave,  was  temperate  :  to  one  idol  fair 
His  vows  he  breath'd,  his  wifhes  center'd  there  : 


W.   WHITEHEAD. 

Honour  alone  could  gain  her  kind  regard  ; 

Honour  was  virtue,  beauty  its  reward. 

And  fliall  not  Britifh  brealls,  in  beauty's  caufe, 

Adopt  to-night  the  manners  which  flic  draws  ? 

Male  writers  we  confefs  are  lawful  prize, 

Giants  and  monfters  that  but  rarely  rife  ! 

With  their  enormous  fpoils  your  triumphs  grace, 

Attack,  confound,  exterminate  the  race; 

But  when  a  lady  tempts  the  critic  war, 

Be  all  knights-errant,  and  protect  the  fair. 


MISCELLANIES. 


(NOT  INCLUDED  IN  THE  EDITION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  POETS,  1790.) 


THE  VISION  OF  SOLOMON  *. 

'TWAS  night,  and  fleep  with  gently-waving  wand 

Sat  foftly  brooding  o'er  that  monarch's  brow, 
Whofe  waking  nod  could  Judah's  realms  com 
mand, 

Or  deal  deftru<Sion  to  the  frighted  foe. 
Great  David's  fon — but  at  this  tranquil  hour 

No  dreams  of  ftate  difturb'd  his  peaceful  bed ; 
To  nobler  heights  his  thoughts  unfetter'd  foar, 

And  brighter  vifions  hover  round  his  head. 
Let  meaner  kings  by  mortals  guard  their  ftate, 
Around  his  facred  couch  aerial  legates  wait. 

"  Hail,  beft  belov'd  !"  fuperior  to  the  reft, 

One  bending  angel  cry'd  with  heavenly  voice, 
"  Earth,  feas,  and  air,  (land  to  thy  view  coniefs'd, 

And  God's  own  mandate  ratifies  thy  choice. 
Choofe  then  from  thefe— fay,  (hall  thy  pow'er  ex 
tend  [fhore, 

Where  funs  fcarce  warm  this  earth's  remoteft 
Shall  India's  lords  beneath  thy  fceptre  bend, 

Whilft  their  black  troops  ftand  filent  and  adore  ? 
To  thce,  fole  lord,  fhall  earth  her  (lores  unfold, 
•Pour  all  her  gems  to  thee,  and  mines  that  Came 
with  gold? 

6hall  ocean's  waves,  obedient  to  thy  call, 

As  erft  to  Mofes,  rang'd  in  order  ftand; 
While  crowds  once  more  admire  the  floating  wall, 

And  treafures  open  on  the  glittering  fand  ? 
Or  (hall  Fame's  breatJi  infpire  each  ibt'ter  air, 

Thee  juft  and  good,  to  diftant  worlds  refcund, 
While  Peace,  fair  goddefs,  leads  the  fouling  year, 

Sxvells  the  glad  grain,  and  fpreads  the  harvcit 

round ; 

Bids  Jordan's  ftream  extend  its  azure  pride, 
Pleas  d  with  reflected  fruits  that  tremble  in  the 
tide  ?" 

The  cherub  fpoke — when  Power  majeftic  rofe; 

A  Tyrian-tinclur'd  robe  (he  dragg'd  behind, 
Whofe  artful  folds  at  every  turn  difclofe 

Sceptres  and  crowns  that  -fluttcr'd  in  the  wind. 
Gigantic  phantom  !  in  her  face  appcar'd 

Terrific  charms,  too  fierce  for  mortal  eyes. 
Aw'd  and  amaz'd,  her  very  fmiles  we  fear'd, 

As  though  ftorms  lurk  d  beneath  the  fmooth 
difguifc ; 

*  See  zCbrw.  ctuf.  i.  wr.  7«-— 12. 


But  when  (lie.  frowns,  tremendous  thunders  re 
Stern  defolation  reigns,  and  kingdoms  float  in  gor 

Her,  Wealth  fucceeds— and  fcarce    his    tottering 
head 

Suftains  the  glittering  ore's  incumbent  weight; 
O'er  his  old  limbs  were  tatter'd  garments  fpread; 

A  well-fix'd  ftaff  directs  his  feeble  feet. 
Thus  mean  himfelf  appear'd ;  but  all  around 

What  crowds  unnumber'd  hail  the  pafling  feer ! 
Power,  as  he  came,  bow'd  lowly  to  the  ground, 

And  own'd  with  reverence  a  fuperior  there. 
"  Rife,  David's  fon,  thy  utmoft  wifti  extend, 
See  to  thy  fceptre  Wealth,  the  world's  great  mo 
narch,  bend." 

Fame  next  approach'd,  whofe  clarion's  martial 
found 

Bids  conqu'ring  laurels  flourifh  ever  green  ; 
And  gentle  Peace  with  olive  chaplets  crown'd, 

And  Plenty,  goddefs  of  the  fylvan  fcene.  [hair ; 
Thefe  Pleafure  join'd ;  loofe  flow'd  her  radiant 

Her  flying  fingers  touch'd  the  trembling  lyre. 
"  Come,  Mirth,"  (he    fung,  "   your   blooming 
wreaths  prepare; 

Come,  gay  Delight,  and  ever-young  Defire : 
Let  days,  let  years  in  downy  circles  move, 
Sacred  to  fprightly  Joy,  and  all-fubduing  Love." 

The  mingled  train  advanc'd ;  to  clofe  the  rear, 

As  loft  in  thought,  appear'd  a  penfive  maid  ; 
Bright  was  her  afpe<5t,  lovely,  yet  fevere, 

In  virgin  white  her  decent  limbs  array'd  : 
She  mov'd  in  fober  ftate;  on  either  fide 

A  beauteous  handmaid  friendly  aid  beftow'd, 
Fair  Virtue  here,  her  view  from  earth  to  guide;  i 

There  Contemplation  rais'd  her  golden  rod. 
Hail,  Wifdom,  hail !  I  fee  and  blefs  the  fight, 
Firft-born  of  Heav'n,  pure  fource  of  intelleciuaft  : 
lieht 

"e  "" 

On  her  the  monarch  fix'd  his  eager  eyes, 

On  her  alone,  regardlefs  of  the  crowd  ; 
"  Let  vulgar  fouls  (he  cry'd)  yon  trifles  prize, 

Mortals  that  dare  of  mis'ry  to  be  proud. 
Hence  then :  I  burn  for  more  ingenuous  charms ;  ; 

Nature's  true  beauties  with  more  luftre  (bine.    -J 
Then  take  me,  Wifdom,  take  me  to  thy  arms; 

O  fnatch  me  from  myfelf,  and  make  me  thine. 
All  Heav'n  calls  good,  or  man  felicity, 
Peace,  plenty,  health,  content,  are  all  compriz'd 
in  thee." 


I  S  C  E  L  L  A  N  1  E  S. 


919 


VERSES  TO  HIS  MOTHER. 

ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY  *. 

ERE  yet  to  Heaven   my  infant  thought  could 

reach, 

Ere  praife  its  Maker  by  the  powers  of  fpeecli, 
Taught  by  thy  care,  by  thy  example  mov'd, 
\  rais'd  my  waking  eyes,  ador'd  and  lov'd. 

For  lift-,  and  this  my  more  than  life,  receiv 
That  poor  return  which  1  with  blufiiei  give ; 
For,  ah  !  the  trifling  tribute  of  a  lay, 
Is  all  my  humble  gratitude  can  pay  ! 

Hear  then  my  fervent  wilh,  though  cloth'd  in 

fong, 

(Ye  powers  confirm  it,  ere  it  quit  my  tongue  !) 
From  this  bleft  day  may  fate  propitious  fliine ; 
Each  earthly  blifs   that  Heaven   calls   good,   be 

thine. 

May  adverfe  clouds  like  empty  mills  decay,       "1 
And  tune  declining,  flied  a  purer  ray, 
To  gild  the  evening  of  thy  well-fpent  day.        J 
And  when  (yet  ne'er  let  that  fad  hour  appear, 
While  my  poor  breaft  draws  in  this  vital  air), 
Thy  fainting  frame  finks  on  the  bed  of  death, 
May  no  iharp  pangs  attend  thy  fleeting  breath  ; 
No  care  on  care,  like  reftlefs  billows  roll, 
To  break  the  calm  of  thy  departing  foul. 
Full  in  thy  fight  let  choirs  of  angels  fpread 
Their  radiant  plumes,  and  hover  round  thy  head ; 
Then  one  foft  iigh  thy  iffuing  foul  co'nvey,         ~) 
While  thy  great  lofs  and  mine  points  out  the  f 
way  f  r 

To  fcenes  of  blifs,  and  realms  of  endlefs  day.    j 

TO  DR.  STEBBING  f. 


0  EVER  mine  !  whate'er  my  fate  portends, 

Of  abfeuce,  paflions,  bufincfs,  fortune,  friends ; 
Whether  in  wide-fpread  fcarf  and  ruillinggown, 
~  ly  borrow'd  rhetoric  fooths  the  faints  in  town, 
3r  makes  in  country  pews  foft  matrons  weep, 
3ay  damfels  fmile,  and  tir'd  church-wardens  fleep. 
Whether  to  eafe  confign'd,  my  future  day, 
One  downy  circle,  fpottive  rolls  away; 
Or,  deep  in  Cambria,  or  the  wilds  of  Kent, 

1  drag  out  life,  and  learn  from  ills  content ; 
Still  be  thy  friendfhip  like  a  genius  there, 
Zcfi.  of  the  joy,  and  folace  of  the  care. 


ON  CHURCHILL. 


So  from  his  common  place,  when  Churchill  firings 
Into  Ibme  motley  form  his  damn'd  good  things, 

*  He  fecnts  to  ba-ve  bad  Pcft's  •uerfes  to  Mrs.  ALir- 
tha  Blount',  in  bis  eye,  "when  he  lurtte  this  tittle  poem 
His  imitation,  boivever,  is  by  no  means  feriiile. 

•J-  This  line  probably  alludes  to  the  rectnt  kfs  of  -Lit 
fotbtr. 

$  Written  apparently  while  be  luas  but  young  in  tht 
college,  and  had  an  intention  to  take  orders.  He  l?ft  a 
ferrnon  among  bis  MSS.  apparently  prepared  for  the 
pulpit,  "written  in  a  plain,  clear,  and  vnornamcnte> 
Kyle;  fucb  as  mrgbt  be  txpecied froin  a  man  ivljofe  judg 
ment  ivat  too  correfi,  to  give  t«  anyfpccres  of  compoj\- 
(itn  -ifbifb  be  exereifeil  bim/l'lf,  in  grates  foreign  to  it 


The  purple  patches  every  where  prevail, 
But  the  poor  work  has  neither  head  nor  tail. 

Churchill  had  flrength  of  thought,  had  power  to 

paint, 

Nor  felt  from  principles  the  leaft  reftraint. 
:'"roni  hell  itftlf  his  characters  he  drew, 
And  chriften'd  them  by  every  name  he  knew ; 
7or  'twas  from  hearfay  he  pick'd  up  his  tales, 
Where  falfu  and  true  by  accident  prevails: 
Eiencc  I,  though  older  far,  have  liv'd  to  fee 
Churchill  forgot,  an  empty  fhade  like  me. 


That  I'm  his  foe,  ev'n  ChurcTiill  can't  pretend ; 

But — thank  my  ftars — he  proves  I  am  no  friend : 

Yet  Churchill,  could  ah  hbrieft  wilh  fucceed, 

I'd  prove  myfelf  to  thee  a  friend  indeed ; 

For  had  I  power  like  that  which  bends  the  fpheres 

To  mufic  never  heard  by  mortal  ears, 

Where,  in  his  fyftem  fcts  the  central  fun, 

And  drags  reluctant  planets  into  tune, 

So  would  I  bridle  thy  eccentric  .foul, 

In  reafon's  fober  orbit  bid  to  rpll : 

Spite  of  thyfelf,  would  make  thy  rancour  ceafe, 

Preferve  thy  prefent  fame,  and  future  peace  ; 

And  teach  thy  mufe  no  vulgar  place  to  find 

In  the  full  moral  chorus  of  mankind. 


A  PATHETIC  APOLOGY 
For  all  Laureats,  fajl,  prtftnt,  and  to  come, 

"  Vcniant  ad  Casfaris  aures!" 

YE  filly  dogs,  whcfe  half-year  lays 
Attend  like  fatellites  on  Bays, 
And  ftill,  with  added  lumber  load 
Each  birth-day,  and  each  new-year  ode, 
Why  will  yejJrive  to  beftvere  F 
In  pity  to  yourfelves  forbear  ; 
Nor  let  the  fneering  public  fee    . 
What  numbers  write  far  worfe  than  he. 

His  mule,  tblig'd  by  facie  and  penfion, 
Without  a  fubjec-t  or  invention— 
Muft  certain  words  in  order  fet, 
As  innocent  as  a  gazette  ; 
Muft  fome  half- mean  ing,  half-difguife, 
And  utter  neither  truth  nor  lies. 
But  \vhy  will  you,  ye  volunteers 
In  nonfenfe,  teuze  us  with  your  jeers, 
Who  might  with  dullnefs  and  her  crew 
Securely  {lumber  ?  Why  willjyoa 
Sport  your  dim  orbs  amidlt  her  fogs, 
You're  not  oW/g-V-r-ye  filly  dogs  ! 

When  Jove,  as  ancient  fables  fing, 
Made  of  a  feiifelefs  log  a  king, 
The  frogs  at  firfl  their  doubts  exprefs'd, 
But  foon  leap'd  up,  and  fmok'd  the  jelt, 
While  every  tadpole  of  the  lake 
Lay  quiet,  though  they  felt  it  quake. 
They  knew  their  nature's  due  degree,' 
Thcmfelves  fcarce  more  alive  than  he  ; 
They  knew  they  could  not  croak  like  frogs,' 
— 'Why  will  you  try  ?— ye  filly  dogs  ! 

When  the  poor  barber  felt  aikance 
The  thunder  of  a  Quixote's  lance, 
For  merely  bearing  on  his  head 
Th'  cspreffive  emblem  of  hi*  trade. 


THE   WORKS   OF   W.    WH1TEHEAD. 


The  barber  was  a  harmlefs  log, 

The  hero  was  the  filly  dog. — 

What  trivial  things  are  caufe  of  quarrel, 

Mambrino's  helmet,  or  the  laurel, 

Alike  diftracl:  an  idiot's  brain, 

"  Unreal  mock'ries!"  fhadowypain! 

Each  laureat  (if  kind  Heaven  difpenfc 
Some  little  gleam  of  common  feufe), 
Ijlefl  with  one  hundred  pounds  per  ana. 

And  that  too  tax'd,  and  but  ill  paid, 
With  caution  frames  his  frugal  plan, 
Nor  apes  his  brethren  of  the  trade. 
He  never  will  to  garrets  rife, 
Tor  infpiration  from  the  fkies, 
And  pluck,  as  Hotfpur  would  have  done, 
"  Brighthonour  from  the  pale-fac'd  meon." 
He  never  will  tp  cellars  venture, 
To  drag-  up  glory  from  the  centre, 
But  calmly  fteer  his  courfe  between 
Th'  aerial  and  infernal  fcene, 
"—One  hundred  pounds  !  a  golden  mean ! 

Nor  need  he  afk  a  printer's  pains, 
To  fix  the  type,  and  mare  the  gains ; 
Each  morning  paper  is  fo  kind, 
To  give  his  works  to  every  wind. 
Each  evening  poft  and  magazine 
Gratis  adopts  the  lay  feren:.- 
On  their' frail  barks  his  praife  or  blame 
Floats  for  an  hour,  and  fmks  with  them. 
Sure  without  envy  you  might  fee 
Such  floundering  immortality . 
Why  will  ye  then,  amidft  the  bogs, 
Thrufl  in  your  oar  ? — ye  filly  dogs! 

He  ne'er  dcfires  his  flated  loan 
(I  honeflly  can  fpeak  for  one) 
Should  meet  in  print  the  public  eye ; 
Content  with  JBoyce's  harmony, 
Who  throws  on  many  a  worthlefs  lay 
His  mufic  and  his  powers  away. 

Are. you  not  charm'd,  when  at  Vauxhall 
Or  Marybone,  the  Syrens  fquall 
Your  oft-repeated  madrigals, 
Your  Nancys  of  the  hills  or  vales, 
While  tip-toe  mifles  and  their  beaux 
Catch  the  dear  founds  in  triple  rows, 
And  whifper,  as  their  happinefs, 
They  know  the  author  of  the  piece  ? 
TLis  vanity,  my  gentle  brothers, 
You  feel ;  forgive  it  then  in  others ; 
At  leafllu  one  you  call  a  dunce. 
The  laureat's-odes  are  fung  but  once,- 
And  then  not  heard — while  your  renown 
For  half  a  fcafon  ftuns  the  town — 
Nay,  on  brown  paper  fairly  fpread, 
With  wooden  print  to  grace  its  head, 
Each  barber  paftes  you  on  his  wall, 
Each  cobler  chants  you  in  his  ftall ; 
And  Dolly,  from  her  matter's  fliop, 
Enures  you,  as  file  twirls  her  mop. 

Then  "  ponder  well  ye  parents  dear" 
Of  works,  which  live  a  whole  half  year, 
And  with  a  tender  eye  furvey 
The^fraikr  offspring  of  a  day, 
Whole  glories  wither  ere  they  bloom, 
Whofe  very  cradle  is  their  tomb. 
Have  ye  no  bowels,  cruel  men ! 
Tou  wlio  may  grafp  or  quit  the  pen, 


May  choofe  your  fubjeft,  nay,  your  time, 

When  genius  prompts  to  fport  in  rhyme, 

Dependent  on  yourfelves  alone, 

To  be  immortal,  or  unknown  ; 

Does  no  compaflion  touch  your  breaft, 

For  brethren  to  the  fervice  prefh  ? 

To  laureats  is  no  pity  due, 

Encumber'd  with  a  thottfand  clogs  ? 
I'm  very  fare  they  pity  you,  . 

Ye  filliefl  of  all  filly  dogs ! 


IN    THE    GARDENS    AT    NUNEHAM,     IN 
OXFORDSHIRE. 

T»  the  Memory   of  Waller   Clark,  Florjji,  ivb»  died 
fiiddenlj   near  ibis  fpot,  1784. 

ON  hirnwhofe  very  foul  was  here, 

Whofe  duteous,  careful,  conflant  toil 
Has  varied  with  the  varying  year,  >> 

To  make  the  gay  profufion  fmile ; 
Whofe  harmlefs  life  in  filent  flow 

Within  thefe  circling  fhades  has  paft, 
What  happier  death  could  Heaven  beftow, 

Than  in  thefe  fhades  to  breathe  his  lafl  ? 
'Twas  here  he  fell :  not  far  remov'd 

Has  earth  receiv'd  him  in  her  breaft ; 
Still  far  befide  the  fcenes  he  lov'd, 

In  holy  ground  his  relicks  reft. 
Each  clambering  woodbine,  flaunting  rofe, 

Which  round  yon  bovv'r  he  taught  to  wave, 
With  ev'ry  fragrant  brier  that  blows, 

Shall  lend  a  wreath  to  bind  his  grave. 
Each  village  matron,  village  maid, 

Shall  with  chafle  fingers  chaplets  tie : 
Due  honours  to  the  rural  dead, 

And  emblems  of  mortality. 
Each  village  fwain  that  paffesby, 

A  figh  mail  to  his  memory  give; 
For  fure  his  death  demands  a  figh, 

Whofe  life  instructs  them  how  to  live. 
If  fpirits  walk,  as  fabling  age 

Relates  to  childhood's  woncl'ring  ear, 
Full  oft,  does  fancy  dare  prefage, 

Shall  Walter's  faithful  made  be  here ;        , 
Athwart  yon  glade,  at  night's  pale  noon, 

Full  oft  fhall  glide  withbufy  feet. 
And  by  the  glimmering  of  the  moon 

Revifit  each  belov'd  retreat : 
Perhaps  the  talks  on  earth  he  kaf.w, 

Refume,  correct  the  gadding  i'pray, 
Brufh  from  the  plants  the  fickly  dew, 

Or  chafe  the  noxious  worm  away. 
The  burftingbucJs  fhall  gladlier  grow, 

No  midnight  blafts  the  flowers  mall  fear; 
And  many  a  fair  effecl;  fhall  {how 

At  noorf  that  Walter  has  been  here. 
Nay,  ev'ry  morn,  in  times  to  come, 
If  quainter  ringlets  curl  the  fhade, 
[f  richer  breezes  breathe  perfume, 

If  fofter  fwell  the  verdant  glade  ; 
!f  neatnefs  charm  a  thoufand  ways, 

Till  nature  almofl  art  appear, 
Tradition's  conftant  fav'rite  theme, 
Shall  be— Poor  Walter  has  been  here. 


THE 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  F 


SOAME  JENYNS, 


Containing 


A*T    OF    DANCING, 

MODERN    FINE    GENTLEMAN, 

MODERN    FINE    LADY, 

ODES, 

EPISTLES, 

SONGS, 


TALES, 

ECLOGUES, 

FABLES,       ' 

EPITAPHS, 

TRANSLATIONS, 

IMITATIONS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    4UTHOR, 


In  the  fmooth  dance  to  move  with  graceful  mien, 
Eafy  with  care,  and  fprightly  though  ferene, 
To  mark  th'  inftructions  echoing  {trains  convey, 
And  with  juft  fteps  each  tuneful  note  obey, 
I  teach' 

THE    ART    OF    DANCING,   CANTO  I. 


ED INB  URGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MVNDLLL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE* 

1795. 


OOAME  JEVTNS  was  born  in  Great  Ormond- Street,  London,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1704. 
He  was  the  only  fon  of  Sir  Roger  Jenyns,  Knt.  of  Bottiiham-Hall,  in  Cambridgefhire,  defcended 
from  the  ancient  and  refpectable  family  of  the  Jenyns  of  Churchill,  in  Somerfetftiire.  He  was 
knighted  by  King  William,  January  9.  1693-4.  His  mother  was  one  of  the  daughters  of  Sir  Peter 
Soame,  Bart,  of  Hayden,  in  the  county  of  Eflex ;  a  woman  of  great  beauty,  and  of  very  amiable 
manners,  and  elegant  accomplifhments. 

He  received  a  domeftic  education,  at  firft  under  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hill,  and  afterwards  under  the 
Rev.  Stephen  White. 

At  the  age  of  feventeen,  he  was  fent  to  the  Univerfity  of  Cambridge,  and  entered  a  Fellow 
Commoner  of  St.  John's  College,  July  a.  1723, under  Dr.  Edmonibn,  at  that  time  «ne  of  the  princi 
pal  tutors  of  the  college. 

He  refided  there  near  three  years,  purfuing  his  ftudies  with  great  induftry;  but  left  the 
univerfity,  as  was  formerly  the  ufual  practice  with  gentlemen  of  fortune,  without  taking  any 
degree. 

From  the  time  he  left  Cambridge,  his  refidence  in  winter  was  in  London,  and  in  the  fummer  in 
the  country,  in  his  father's  family,  as  long  as  he  lived. 

He  early  difplayed  his  poetical  talents.  In  1748,  he  publifhed  The  Art  of  Dancing,  a  poem  in 
two  captos,  infcribed  to  Lady  Fanny  Fielding ;  1729,  he  wrote  the  verfes  In  tbt  Earl  ef  Oxford's 
Library  :  in  1730,  verfes  To  tie  Earl  of  Cbcjlcrfitld,  on  bis  being  inflalltd  Kitigbt  of  the  Garter  ;  and  ift 
1733,  An  Efijlle  to  Ltrd  Lovelace.  This  was  followed  by  The  Modern  fine  Gentleman,  1746;  The 
Squire  and  Farfen,  An  Eclogue  ;  The  Firft  Epiftle  of  tie  Second  BooL  of  Horace  Imitated,  to  Lord  Hard- 
micte  ;  To  the  Hon.  Mifi  Torke,  en  her  Marriage  to  Lord  Anfun,  1748  ;  T&e  Modern  Fine  Lady,  1750; 
and  feveral  others,  which  he  collected  into  a  volume  in  1752. 

Soon  after  his  father's  death,  at  the  general  election,  in  1741,  he  was  chofen  one  of  the  reprefen- 
tatives  for  the  county  of  Cambridge,  and  gave  his  fupport  to  Walpole.  He  reprefented  it  again  in 
the  parliament  of  1747.  In  that  of  1754,  he  was  member  for  Dunwich,  in  Suffolk;  and  in  1761, 
took  his  feat  for  the  town  of  Cambridge,  which  place  he  continued  to  reprefent  fo  long  as  he  re 
mained  iu  Parliament. 

When  Moore  began  "  The  World,"  in  1753,  he  gave  his  afllftance,  among  others,  and  contri 
buted  Nos.  125,  153,  1.57,  163,  and  178. 

In  1755,  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  Lords  of  Trade  and  Plantations ;  a  place  which  he  held  during 
every  change  of  adminiftration,  until  it  was  abolifhed  in  1780,  when  he  retired  from  the  bufinefs  of 
parliament.  He  was,  in  general,  an  adherent  of  the  minilter  for  the  time  being,  and  was  a  ufeful, 
active,  and  diligent  member  of  the  Houfe  of  Commons,  though  he  fhared,  as  he  admitted  in  one  of 
his  poems,  no  gift  of  tongue. 

In  *757j  he  publiflied  his  Free  Inquiry  lnt»ttt  Origin  of  Evil,  In  Six  Letters,  8vo.  This  work 
excited  much  attention,  and  produced  feveral  anfwers  ;  to  which  he  replied,  in  an  Additional  Preface 
to  the  fccond  edition.  He  is  of  opinion,  that  to  produce  good  exclufive  of  evil,  is  one  of  thofe  im« 


984  THELIFEOFJENYNS. 

poflibilities  which  even  Infinite  Power  cannot  accomplifli,  and  that  all  evils  owe  their  exigence  fols- 
ly  to  the  neceffity  of  their  own  nature ;  by  which  he  means,  that  they  could  not  poffibly  have  been 
•  prevented  without  the  lofs  of  fome  fuperior  good.  Many  evils,  he  think?,  will  unavoidably  infinu- 
ate  themfelves,  by  the  natural  relations  and  circumftances  of  things,  into  the  mod  perfect  fyftem  of 
created  beings,  even  in  oppofition  to  the  will  of  an  Almighty  Creator;  hy  reafon  that  they  cannot 
be  excluded  without  working  contradictions,  which  not  being  proper  fubjects  of  power,  it  is  no  di 
minution  of  Omnipotence,  to  affirm  that  it  cannot  effect  them.  Such  is  the  ground-work  of  his 
Inquiry,  &c.  which  was  reviewed  with  great  feverity  by  Dr.  Johnfon,  in  the  "  Literary  Magazine" 
fat  1757.  He  took  a  revenge  unworthy  of  a  man  of  letters,  many  years  after,  in  a  feverc  Epitaph  on 
Dr.  Jobnfon* 

On  the  publication  of  Mr.  Hawkins  Browne's  Latin  poem,  on  the  "  Immortality  of  the  Soul," 
in  1751,  Jenyns  made  a  ttanjlation  cf  it  into  Englifh,  which  was  publifhed  in  Dodfley's  "  Collec 
tion  of  Poems,"  1758. 

In  1756  he  publifhed  a  pamphlet,  intituled  Short  but  Serious  Reafons  for  a  National  Mill- 
1'<at  8vo ;  and  to  this  fucceeded  feveral  other  performances,  both  in  profe  and  verfe,  either  in 
defence  of  Government,  or  levelled  at  fome  perfons  in  oppofition  to  the  meafures  of  adminiftra- 
tion. 

In  Ij6l,  he  publifhcd  his  Mifccllantout  Fotxs,  in  a  vols,8vo,  one  of  which  contained  fome  politi 
cal  effays. 

In  1767,  he  publifhed  a  pamphlet,  intituled  Thoughts  on  the  Canfes  and  Confequtnce;  of  the  High  Trice 
cf  Pre-uiftons ,  8vo.  This  high  price  he  attributes  principally  to  the  increafe  o(  our  national  debt,  and 
the  increafe  of  our  riches,  that  is,  to  the  poverty  of  the  public,  and  the  wealth  of  private  individuals. 
This  pamphlet  is  replete  with  very  ingenious  observations. 

In  1776,  he  publifhed  his  celebrated  Work,  intituled  A  1'ieiv  of  tic  Internal  Evidence  of  the  Chrifian 
Religion,  I2tno.  This  publication  was  very  generally  read,  and  commended  in  terms  of  the  higheft 
praife,  by  fome,  whilft  it  was  fpoken  of  in  the  flighted  manner  by  others.  Though  he  profeffe-^ 
and  appears  to  have  written  it  with  a  laudable  defign,  yet  it  has  provoked  cenfure  from  the  divine 
and  the  moralift,  and  profane  farcafm  from  the  philofopher 'and  fceptic.  He  is  accufed  of  injuring  the 
canfe  he  profeffed  to  defend,  by  diligently  relating,  and  elaborately  difplaying  the  flrongeft  objec 
tions  which  have  been  raifed  againfl.  the  Chriflian  religion,  while  his  mode  of  refuting  them  is  cold, 
carelefs,  and  unfatisfactory.  He  feems  to  have  defended  Chriftianity  upon  principles  that  lead,  aa 
perfons  may  be  differently  difpofed,  to  fccpticifm,or  to  enthufiafm. 

His  plan  is  comprehended  under  th?  following  propofitions :  ift,  That  there  is  now  extant,  a 
book  intituled  the  New  Teftament.  adly,  That  frcd  this  book  may  be  extracted,  a  fyftem  of  reli 
gion  entirely  new,  both  with  regard  to  the  object,  and  the  doctrines,  not  only  infinitely  fuperior  to, 
but  unlike  every  thing  which  had  ever  entered  into  the  mind  of  man.  3dly,  That  from  this  book 
tnay  likewife  be  collected  a  fyftem  of  ethics,  in  which  every  moral  precept  founded  on  reafon  is 
tarried  to  a  higher  degree  of  purity  and  perfection,  than  in  any  other  of  the  wifeft  phifofophers  of 
preceding  ages ;  every  moral  precept  founded  on  falfe  principles  is  totally  omitted,  and  many  new 
precepts  added,  peculiarly  correfponding  with  the  new  object  of  this  religion.  Laftly,  that  fuch 
3.  fyftem  of  religion  and  morality  could  not  have  been  the  work  of  any  man,  or  fet  of  men,  much 
Tefs  of  thofe  obfcure,  ignorant,  and  illiterate  perfons,  who  actually  did  difcover  and  publifh  it  to  the 
•world;  and  that,  therefore,  it  muft  undoubtedly  have  been  effected  by  the  interpofuion  of  Divine 
Power,  that  is,  that  it  muft  derive  its  origin  from  God.  Under  the  tllrd  propofition,  he  reckoned 
•valour,  patrlotifm,  mAffiuidftlf,  among  fictitious  virtues,  founded  on  falfe  principles;  and  he  ap 
prehends  that  hbwever  they  have  been  celebrated  and  admired,  they  are,  in  fact,  no  virtues  at  all. 

At  the  clofe  of  his  work,  he  makes  the  following  explicit  declaration  of  his  belief  in  the  doctrine 
of  the  Chriftian  religion.  "  Should  it  ever  have  the  honour  to  be  Admitted  into  fuch  good  com- 
jury,  they  will,  immediately,  I  know,  determine  that  it  muft  be  the  work  of  fome  enthufiaft,  or 
methodift,  fome  beggar,  or  fome  madman.  I  fhall,  therefore,  beg  leave  to  affnre  them,  that  the 
author  is  very  far  removed  from  all  thefe  characters  :  that  he  once,  perhaps,  believed  as  little  as 
themfelves;  but  having  fqrhe  leifure,  and  more  curiofity,  he  employed  them  both  in  refolving  a 
•jueftion,  which  feemed  to  him  of  fome  importance — Whether  Ciiriflianity  was  really  an  impofturs 


THE  LIFE   OF  JENYNS.  985 

founded  on  an  abfurd,  incredible,  and  obfolete  fable,  as  many  fuppofe  it  ?  or  whether  it  is  what  it' 
pretends  to  be,  a  revelation  communicated  to  mankind  by  the  interpofuion  of  feme  fupernatural 
power  ?  On  a  candid  inquiry  he  found  that  the  firft  was  an  abfolute  impoffibility,  and  that  its  pre- 
tenfions^o  the  latter  were  founded  on  the  moft  folid  ground?.  In  the  further  purfuits  of  his  exa 
mination,  he  perceived  at  every  ftep  new  lights  arifmg,  and  fome  of  the  brighteft,  from  parts  of  it  the 
moft  obfcure,  hut  productive  of  the  cleared  proofs,  becaufe  equally  beyond  the  power  of  human  ar 
tifice  to  invent,  and  human  reafon  to  difcover.  Thefe  argument?,  which  have  convinced  him  of  the 
divine  origin  of  this  religion,  he  has  here  put  together  in  as  clear  and  concife  a  manner  as  he  was 
able,  thinking  they  might  have  the  fame  effect  upon  others,  and  being  of  opinion  that  if  there 
were  a  few  more  true  Chriftians  in  ths  world,  it  would  be  beneficial  to  themfelves,  and  by  no  means 
detrimental  to  the  public'," 

Many  anfwers  to  this  work  appeared,  but  only  two  of  them  merit  notice  :  "  A  Series  of 
Letters  addreffed  to  Soame  Jenyns,  &c."  by  Dr.  Maclaine,  the  learned  tranflator  of  Mo- 
fheim's  "  Church  Hiftory ;"  and "  A  Pull  Anfwer  to  a  Late  View  of  the  Internal  Evidence  of 
the  Chriftian  Religion,  &c."  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Taylor,  the  editor  of  Een.  Mordecai's  Letters  t» 
Elifha  Levi.  "  I  have  the  intereft  of  Chriflianity,"  fays  Dr.  Maclaine,  "  too  much  at  heart,  not  to 
proteft  folemnly  againft  your  method  of  defending  it.  Your  Vie-w  of  its  internal  evidence  i»  certain 
ly  exceptionable  in  many  refpects.  In  general,  your  reafoning  is  neither  clofe  nor  accurate .  your 
illuft'rations  run  wide  of  the  principles  they  are  defigned  to  explain  and  enforce.  One  would  be 
tempted  fometimes  to  think  that  you  yourfelf  loft  fight  of  thofe  principles  in  the  midft  of  the  deful- 
tory  detail  of  arguments  and  obfervations  which  you  bring  to  fupport  them  ;  and  while  we  admire 
feveral  fine  torches  of  genius,  wit,  and  eloquence,  that  flrike  us  in  the  midft  of  this  fplendid  confu- 
fion,  we  lament  the  want  of  that  luminous  order,  and  philofophical  precifion,  that  are  indifpenfably 
required  in  a  work  of  this  kind.  You  look  like  a  man  who  has  been  fuddenly  tranfported  into  a 
,cew  fcene  of  things,  where  a  multitude  of  objects  flrike  him  at  once,  and  who  begins  to  defcribe 
them  before  he  had  time  to  confider  their  arrangement  and  their  connections.  Or,  to  ufe  another 
figure  that  comes  nearer  to  your  particular  cafe,  you  look  like  a  zealous  and  fpirited  volunteer,  who 
has  embarked  in  a  refiel  furrounded  with  enemies,  and  aflailed  by  tempeftuous  weather,  and  begim 
to  defend  and  work  the  ihip,  without  that  experience  in  the  art  of  navigation,  or  the  fciencc  of  de 
fence,  that  is  neceffary  to  enfure  fuccefs  and  victory." 

In  ifSfc,  he  publifhed  eight  Difquifttitns  on  feveral  Subjtfls,  8vo.  In  this  work,  among  other 
ingenious,  but  idle  fancies,  he  communicates  his  ideas  of  the  fre-cxijlent  Jlate  of  man  as  a  ftata 
of  punifliment,  which  he  attempts  to  confirm,  by  a  fanciful  conftruction  of  thofe  paflages  of 
fcripture,  which  are  commonly  adduced  in  fupport  of  the  doctrine  of  original  fin.  But 
jf  the  condition  of  man  be  indeed  fo  forlorn  and  wretched,  as  he  reprefents,  it  muft  be  like- 
wife  entirely  hopelefs ;  for  if  all  be  wrong  at  prefent,  it  is  impoflible  we  fhould  have  any  proof 
that  things  ever  have  been,  or  ever  will  be  right.  The  doctrines  which  he  inculcates  in  his 
difquifition  on  Government,  in  cppofition  to  the  eftablifhed  principles  of  civil  liberty,  are  inconfiftent 
with  the  great  rights  and  interefts  of  mankind.  In  his  difquifition  OH  Rational  Clrijlianity,  he  dog 
matically  condemns  the  doctrines  and  fpirit  of  thefe  friends  to  Chriftianity,  who  believe  it  on  ration 
al  grounds,  and  explain  it  in  a  manner  confiftent  with  common  fenfe  ;  and  paradoxically  aflerts  that 
the  doctrines  of  Chriftianity  are  "  fo  advcrfe  to  all  the  principles  of  human  reafon,  that  if  brought 
before  her  tribunal,  it  muft  be  inevitably  condemned."  It  will  generally,  however,  be  thought  by 
thofe  who  are  fincere  believers  in  Chriftianity,  that  that  explanation  of  the  Scripture*  which  makes 
them  agree  with  our  natural  ideas  of  religion  and  morals,  is  as  likely  to  be  the  true  one,  as  that 
•which  afcribes  to  them  doctrines  contrary  to  the  principles  of  reafon.  His  oppofition  to  all  the 
eftablilhed  principles  of  civil  liberty,  in  his  frocnth  difquifition,  was  combated  in  a  very  fenfiblc  and 
fpirited  pamphlet,  intituled  "  An  Anfwer  to  the  Difquifition  on  Government  and  Civil  Liberty, 
&c.  It  was  likewife  ridiculed,  with  great  humour,  in  the  "  Dean  and  the  'Squire,"  a  political 
eclogue,  humbly  dedicated  to  Soame  Jenyns,  Efq.  by  the  "  Author  of  the  Heroic  Epiftle  to  Sir  Wil 
liam  Chambers." 

This  was  the  laft  performance  which  he  gave  to  the  world  ;  but  he  continued  from  time  to  time  to 
erfef.  Among  the  laft  of  his  occafional  competitions,  were  the  burlefque  Ode  to  Lord  CarliJJe,  the 


986  THE  LIFE  OF  JENYNS 

Epilapl  en  Dr.  ^olnfon,  the  fhort  poem  on  his  Majejlys  Efeafe  from  the  attack  of  a  lunatic,  and  the 
compliment  to  Lady  Salifbury,  1787. 

He  died  at  his  houfe  in  Tilney-Street,  of  a  fever,  after  a  few  days  illnefs,  December  18.  1787,  in 
the  8jd  year  of  his  age,  leaving  no  iffue.  He  was  buried  in  the  church  of  Bottifham.  In  the  re- 
giftry  of  burials  in  the  parifh  of  Bottifliam  for  1787,  the  following  entry  was  made  by  the  Rev. 
William  Lort  Manfell,  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  who  was  then  fequeftrator  of  that 
•rfcarage. 

SOAME  JENYNS,  In  the  8jd  year  of 

his  age. 

What  his  literary  character  was, 

The  world  hath  already  judged  for  itfelf ; 

£ut  it  remains  for  his  parifh  Minifter 

to  do  his  duty, 

By  declaring, 

That  while  he  regifters  the  burial  of 

SOAME  JENTNS, 
He  regrets  the  lofs  of  one  ef  the  moft 

amiable  of  men, 

And  one  of  the  trueft  Chriftians. 

To  the  pariih  of  Bottifliam  he  is  an 

irreparable  lofs. 
He  was  buried  in  this  church,  December  37, 

near  midnight, 

By  William  Lort  Manfell,  fequeftrator ; 
Who  thus  trangreffes  the  common  forms 

of  a  Regifter, 

Merely  becaufe  he  thinks  it  to  be 
The  molt  folemn  and  lading  method 

of  recording  to  poftcrity, 
That  the  fined  underftanding 

Has  been  united 
To  the  beft  heart. 

He  was  twice  married,  firft  to  Mary,  the  only  daughter  of  Colonel  Soame,  of  Dereham,  in  Nor 
folk,  a  lady  of  great  fortune,  to  whom  his  father  was  guardian.  In  this  union,  as  is  too  frequently 
the  cafe,  his  inclinations  were  lefs  confulted  than  the  advantages  that  were  fuppofed  to  be  the  certain 
appendages  to  an  alliance  with  great  wealth.  The  confequence  may  be  imagined.  A  reparation  en- 
fui-d,  which  his  lady  did  not  long  furvive.  He  afterwards  married  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of  Hen- 
»y  Grey,  Efq.  of  Hackney,  in  the  county  of  Middlefex,  who  furvivcd  him. 

Three  editions  of  his  works  were  printed  during  his  life.  The  firft  was  printed  in  a  fmall  8ve, 
,  the  fecond  in  two  fmall  volumes  8vb,  1761,  and  the  laft  was  printed  in  one  large  volume  8vo, 
His  name  was  not  put  to  either  of  thefe  editions  ;  but  the  title-pages  of  the  firft  and  laft  con 
tain  an  urn  filled  with  flowers,  round  which  a  wreath  is  entwined,  charged  with  the  motto  to  his 
arms.  Jgna-uis  nunquam.  In  1 790, his  WorJcs  were  collefted  in  4  vols.  Svo,  including  feveral  faces  never 
tefore  fublijted,  by  Charles  Nalfon  Cole,  Efq.  with  "  Short  Sketches  of  his  Life,"  which  have  been 
«hi  fly  followed  in  the  prefent  account  The  firft  volume  contains  his  Mifcellaneous  Poems.  The 
fecond,  the  translation  of  Browne,  De  Jlnimi  Immortalitate ;  five  numbers  of  the  "  World ;"  Start  tut 
Serious  Sea/ens  for  a  National  Militia  ;  'Thoughts  on  the  Caufss  and  Confequences  of  tie  prefent  b'igb  Price  of 
Previfions  ;  The  objections  to  the  Taxation  of  our  American  Colonies  Ly  the  Legijlature;  RejleHiont  on  feveral 
Subjefis  ;  Thoughts  on  a  Parliamentary  Reform  ;  A  Scheme  for  the  Coalition  ef  Parties  ;  Tbaugbts  on  the 
National  Dettt  never  before  publiftied  The  third,  A  Free  Inquiry  into  tie  Nature  and  Origin  of  Evil,  in 
Six  Ltttert  ;  On  Evil  in  General,  Oa  Evils  tf  mpcrfcclion.  On  Natural  Evils,  On  Moral  Evils ±  On  Po 
litical  Eviis  ;  and  feven  :  'ifquifitions,  On  the  Chain  of  Univerfal  Being,  On  Cruelty  to  Inferior  Animals,  Oit 
a  Pre-exijltnt  State,  On  tbi  Nature  of  lame,  On  tbe  .Analogy  between  things  Material  and  Intellectual,  On 
JZatisn.il  Cbrijlianity .  On  Government  and  Civi!  Liberty,  The  fourth,  t'irw  of  tbe  Internal  Evidence  of  tie 
Cbrijlian  Religion,  and  Short  and  Curfory  Objcri/ations  9ti  Several  P"J/afes  in  tie  Nnu  Tefta/nent,  never 

before  publilhed.  6 


THE  LIFE   OF  JENYNS.  987 

HTs  Poems  were  Inferted  in  the  edition  of  "  The  Englifli  Poets,"  1790,  and  arc  repriated  in  the 
prefent  collection,  with  the  following  additional  pieces  from  Mr.  Cole's  edition,  1 790,  •written  in 
the  Earl  of  Oxford's  Library  at  Wimple  ;  To  a  Ntfigay  in  Pandar'tlla's  BreaJ},  from  Bonfariut,  Given 
to  a  Ltdy  viitb  a  Wattb  ;  Belpbegor,  a  Fable  from  Macbia-ocl ;  A  Dialogue  between  tie  Right  Hon.  Henry 
Pelbam,  and  Mit/am  Pofularily  ;  A  Simile  ;  A  Pa/age  in  OJftan  Vtrjifisd ;  Qn  feeing  tbe  Earl  of  Cbefler- 
jield  at  a  Ball,  at  Baib  ;  fbe  American  Coachman  ;  Eurlefque  Ode,  Written  at  tbe  Countefs  of  Salifbury't 
jffisnily  )  Epitaph  on  Dr.  "Jobnfon  ,•  On  a  late  execrable  Attempt  on  bis  Majejly's  Life. 

His  character  feems  to  have  been  amiable  and  refpectable.  His  life  had  been  very  active  and  di- 
verfified.  He  had  ftudied  much,  he  had  feen  more.  He  converfed  as  well  as  he  wrote.  HU  thoughts 
were  fprightly,  his  expreffions  neat.  His  perfon  was  diminutive,  and  of  a  flight  make ;  and  he  had 
a  fmall  wen,  or  protuberance,  on  his  neck.  In  his  youth,  he  had  been  fo  fond  of  drcfs,  as  to  be  dif- 
tinguifhed  as  one  of  the  beaux  of  his  time ;  but  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  his  appearance  was  rather 
mean,  being  generally  habited  in  a  Bath  beaver  furtout,  with  blue  worfted  boot-ftockings.  His  reli 
gious  routine  is  faid  to  have  been  Cngular.  From  early  impreflion,  or  ftrong  conviction,  he  was 
originally  a  zealous  believer  of  revelation,  and  fufpected  of  a  tendency  to  certain  fanatical  opinions. 
Gradually  lofing  ground  in  faith,  he  wandered  into  paths  obfcured  by  doubt,  and  became  a  profeffed 
deift ;  till,  by  a  retrograde  progrefs,  he  nieafured  back  his  fteps  to  the  comforts  of  rational  Chrifti- 
anity.  On  his  death-bed,  it  is  faid,  he  reviewed  his  life,  and  witk  a  viable  gleam  of  joy,  he  gloried 
jn  the  belief  that  his  View  of  At  Internal  Evidences  of  tbe  Cbrijlian  Religion  had  been  ufeful.  It  was  re 
ceived,  perhaps,  where  greater  works  would  not  make  their  way,  and  fo  might  have  aided  the  ar 
dour  of  virtue,  the  confidence  of  truth.  He  fpoke  of  his  death  as  one  prepared  to  die.  He  did  not 
ihrink  from  it  a?  an  evil,  nor  as  a  punifliment,  but  met  it  with  decent  firmnefs,  as  his  original  defti- 
ny,  the  kind  releafe  from  what  was  worfc,  the  kinder  fummens  to  all  that  is  better.  As  a  lay- 
vindicator  of  divine  revelation,  he  ranks  with  Milton,  Locke,  Addifon,  and  Newton. 

As  an  author,  he  has  attained  no  fmall  degree  of  reputation,  by  powers  which  have  had  every 
aid  that  ufeful  and  polite  learning  could  give.  He  pofleffes  a  judgment  critically  exact,  an  elegant 
tafte,  and  a  rich  vein  of  wit  and  humour.  He  is  entitled  tp  great  praife  for  many  excellencies  of 
ftyle.  Mr.  Burke  has  truly  faid,  that  he  was  one  of  thofe  who  wrote  the  purell  Englifli,  that  is,  the 
mo  ft  fimple  and  aboriginal  language,  the  leaft  qualified  with  foreign  impregnation.  To  thecharacter  of  an 
elegant,  he  joins  that  of  afenflble  and  agreeable  writer.  He  has  the  rare  merit  of  treating,  inapleafing 
manner,  that  ahflracted  metaphyfic  fubject,  the  origin  or  neceffity  of  evil,  which  has  perplexed  human 
reafon  in  every  age.  He  has  written  like  a  man  of  tafte  and  acutenefs,  in  the  habit  of  deep  thinking. 
Afpeciesof  reading  often  injurious,  and  generally  unentertaining,  he  has  rendered  at  once  interefting 
and  argumentative.  But  genius,  like  every  power  in  human  nature,  is  capable  of  an  abfurd  and  perni 
cious,  as  well  as  of  a  judicious  and  beneficial  application.  While  it  is  employed  in  inveftigating  ufeful 
truths,  and  enlarging  the  boundaries  of  real  knowledge,  it  is  rendering  fuch  important  fervices  to 
mankind,  as  to  merit  the  higheft  applaufe.  Of  this  perverfion  of  genius,  his  political  tracts  and  phi- 
lofophical  difquifitions  afford  a  ftriking  example.  Not  contented  with  that  portion  of  reputation 
for  originality,  which  is  to  be  acquired  in  the  plain  path  of  truth  and  common  fenfe,  he  finds  it  ne- 
ceffary  to  employ  the  fubtleties  of  fophiftry  in  fupport  of  opinions,  which  party-attachments  led  him 
to  adopt,  and  to  exercife  his  fuperior  abilities,  in  erecting  fanciful  and  paradoxical  fyftems,  or  in 
defending  fome  dangerous  tenets.  His  Vie-w  tftbe  Internal  Evidence  rf 'the  Chriflign  Religion,  contains 
many  juft  and  important  obfervations ;  but  his  method  of  rcafoning  is  liable  to  confiderable  objec 
tions.  It  has  not  occurred  to  the  advocates  of  the  Chriftian  religion,  that  doctrines,  allowed  to  be 
contradictory  to  reafon,  are  not  on  this  account  the  lefs  credible,  nor  have  they  ever  conceived  that 
the  virtues  of  friendfhip,  fortitude,  and  patriotism,  do  not  form  a  part  of  the  morality  of  the  gof- 
pel ;  much  lefs  have  they  urged  the  want  of  chefe  virtues  as  a  peculiar  recommendation  of  its  ex 
cellence.  They  are  confpicuoufly  illuftrated  in  the  character  of  its  author ;  and  it  would  be  eafy  to 
produce  ftriking  inftances,  in  which  his  courage  and  fricn  Jfhip,  and  concern  for  the  welfare  of 
hjs  country,  were  actually  difplayed.  The  advocates  of  Chriftianity,  in  anfwer  to  Shaftefbury  and 
Others,  have  fufficiently  vindicated  it  in  this  reflect.  They  are  unqueftionably  virtues  of  confi- 


9$8  THELIFEOFJENYNS. 

derable  importance  5  and  fo  far  as  they  do  not  interfere  with  the  general  principles  of  benevo 
lence,  which  Chriflianity  inculcates,  they  conftitute  a  part  of  Chriilian  morality. 

Asa  poet,  he  is  rather  characterifed  by  elegance  and  correctnefs,  than  by  invention  or  enthufiafm. 
He  writes  with  terfenefs  and  neatnefs,  feldom  with  much  vigour  er  animation.  He  is  a  pleat 
ing  and  elegant,  but  not  a  very  animated,  or  firft-rate  writer.  His  expreffion  is  concife,  his  wit 
lively,  his  fatire  poignant,  his  humour  delicate,  and  his  verification  eafy,  flowing  and  agreeable. 
His  Art  of  Poncing,  Modern  fine  Gentleman,  Modern  Fine  Lady,  Firji  Efifllt  of  Horace,  Burlefjue  OJtt 
&c.  are  elegant  and  beautiful  compofitions.  In  every  one  of  them  there  are  juft  conception,  lively 
imagination,  correct  expreffion,  and  clear  connection.  His  verfion  of  Browne's  lie  Imortalitate  Ani- 
mi,  is  a  correA  and  claffical  performance,  which  may  challenge  a  comparifon  with  tke  fubfequent  ver- 
fions  of  Mr.  Cranwell  and  Mr.  Lettice.  His  ftiorter  pieces,  in  general,  may  DC  read  with  pleafure. 
We  find  here  and  there  foine  indecencies  of  expreflion,  which  we  fincerely  wifh  he  had  avoided. 
The  Epitaph  on  Dr.  Johnfon  was  not  dictated  by  the  fame  fpirit  of  candour  and  friendfhip  which  be 
dewed  the  grave  of  Jenyns,  and  ftrewed  it  with  flowers. 

His  moral  and  literary  character  has  been  delineated  by  Mr.  Cole,  in  his  "  Sketches,"  with  the 
zeal  of  friendfhip  and  the  fondnefs  of  affectionate  remembrance ;  but  he  rates  his  merits  too  high. 
Hi»  remarks  on  his  ftyle  are  exceeding  juft. 

"  He  was  a  man  of  great  mildnefs,  gentlenefs,  and  fweetncfs  of  temper,  which  he  manifefted  to  all 
with  whom  he  had  concerns,  either  in  the  bufmefs  of  life  or  its  focial  intercourfe.  His  earneft  de- 
fire  was,  as  far  as  it  was  poffible,  never  to  offend  any  perfon ;  and  he  made  fuch  allowances,  even  for 
thole  who  in  their  difpofitions  differed  from  him,  that  he  was  rarely  offended  with  others ;  of  which, 
in  a  long  life,  he  gave  many  notable  inftances.  He  was  ftrict  in  the  performance  of  religious  duties 
in  public,  and  a  conftant  practifer  of  them  in  private  ;  ever  profeffing  the  greateft  veneration  for 
the  church  of  England  and  its  government,  as  by  law  efiablifhed;  holding  her  liturgy  as  the  pureft 
and  moft  perfect  form  of  public  worfliip  in  any  cftablifhed  church  in  Chriflendom:  but  he  thought 
that  alterations  and  amendments  might  be  made  in  it,  which  would  render  it  more  perfect  than  it 
is  in  its  prefent  ftatc,  and  which  he  earnestly  defired  to  have  feen  accompliftied  by  thofe  who  were 
properly  authorized. 

"  In  private  life,  he  was  moft  amiable  and  engaging;  for  he  was  poffefTed  of  a  well-informed  mind, 
accompanied  by  an  uncommon  vein  of  the  moft  lively,  fpirited,  and  genuine  wit,  which  always 
flowed  very  copioufly  amongft  thofe  with  whom  he  converfed,  but  which  was  tempered  with  fuch  a 
kindnefs  of  nature,  that  it  never  was  the  caufe  of  uneafmefs  to  any  of  thofe  with  whom  he  lived  : 
this  made  his  acquaintance  much  fought  after  and  courted  by  all  thofe  who  had  a  taftc  for  brilliant 
converfaticn,  being  well  aflured  that  they  would  be  delighted  with  it  where  he  was;  and  that, 
though  they  did  not  pcffefs  the  fame  talent,  they  never  would  be  cenfured  by  him  becaufe  they 
wanted  it. 

"  This  fo  gentle  an  exertion  of  fo  rare  a  quality,  he  not  only  ftrictly  obferved  himfelf,  but  was  al 
ways  much  hurt  if  he  obferved  the  want  of  it  in  others ;  and  confidered  every  fally  of  wit,  how 
ever  bright  it  might  be,  which  tended  to  the  mortification  of  thofe  who  heard  it,  as  one  of  its  great- 
eft  abufes,  Once  he  looked  upon  all  pre-eminent  gifts  of  the  mind,  bellowed  by  nature,  as  much  for 
the  happinefs  of  others,  as  of  thofe  who  poffefs  them. 

"  No  perfon  ever  felt  more  for  the  miferies  of  others  than  he  did  ;  no  perfon  faw,  or  more  ftrictly 
practifed,  the  neceffity  impofed  on  thofe  who  form  the  fuperior  ranks  of  life,  whofe  duty  it  is  to  re 
concile  the  lower  claffes  to  their  prefent  condition,  by  contributing  the  utmoft  to  make  them  happy ; 
and  thereby  to  caufe  them  to  feel  as  little  of  that  difference  as  is  poffible  ;  for  he  was  moft  kind  and 
courteous  to  all  his  inferiors,  not  only  in  his  exprefiions  and  in  his  behaviour,  but  in  aflifting  them 
in  all  their  wants  and  diftreffes,  as  far  as  he  could ;  ever  conOdering  his  poor  neighbours  in  the 
country  as  parts  of  his  family,  and,  as  fuch,  entitled  to  his  care  and  protection. 

"  He  fpent  his  fummers  at  his  houfc  in  the  country,  refiding  there  with  hofpitality  to  his  tenants 
and  neighbours,  and  never  luffered  any  places  at  that  feafon  calculated  for  public  diverfions  to  al 
lure  him ;  for  he  faid  he  could  at  that  time  do  more  good  in  his  own  parifh  than  in  any  other  fituation. 
"  He  frequently  lamented  the  prevailing  fafhion  of  the  later  times  of  his  life,  which  carried  gen 
tleman  with  their  families  frcm  Lccdon,  when  it  it  dcfertcd  by  all  wl.efe  alienee  csn  fce  dif 


THE   LIFE    OF   JENYNS.  989 

with,  to  places  far  diflant  from  their  houfes  and  ancient  feats  in  the  country;  opened  chiefly  for 
the  reception  of  thofe  who  wifh  ttxcontinue  the  fcenes  of  diffipation  they  have  left:  whence  it  if, 
that  the  money  which  fhould  revert  to  the  diftricts  from  which  it  was  received,  is  turned  into  a 
different  channel ;  tenants  are  deprived  of  the  advantages  they  are  in  fome  degree  entitled  to,  from 
its  expenditure  amongft  them  ;  hofpitality  done  away,  and  che  ftream  of  charity,  that  would  other- 
wife  have  gladdened  the  hearts  of  their  poor  neighbour^  is  flopped  ;  their  inferiors  deprived  of 
their  example,  encouragement,  and  protection,  in  the  practice  of  religion  and  virtue,  and  thereby 
the  manners  of  the  country  altered  for  the  worfe,  which  neceflkrily  occafions  great  mifchiefs^  to  the 
public. 

"  When  he  was  in  the  country,  he  conftantly  acted  as  a  magiftrate  in  his  own  diftrict,  and  attended 
all  thofe  meetings  which  were  holden  for  the  purpofes  of  public  juftice. 

"  From  the  general  opinion  that  was  entertained  of  hi&  inflexible  integrity,  and  fpperior  undcr- 
ftancling,  he  was  much  reforted  to  in  that  character  at  home. 

"  Unknown  to  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  unconnected  with  him  by  acquaintance  or  private  regard, 
he  fupported  him  to  the  utmoft  of  hU  power,  till  he  retired  from  his  high  flation.  He  fejdonx  or 
ever  fpoke,  whiift  fitting  in  Parliament. 

"  From  having  Jong  had  a  feat  at  the  Board  of  Trade,  and  conftamly  attending  his  duty  there,  he 
gained  an  understanding  of  the  great  outlines  of  the  commercial  interefts  of  this  country. 

"  At  an  author,  fo  long  as  a  true  tafte  of  fine  writing  fhall  exift,  he  will  have  a  diftinguiflied  place 
amongft  thofe  who  have  excelled.  Whatever  he  hath  publifhed,  whether  he  played  with  his  mufe, 
or  appeared  in  the  plain  livery  of  profe,  was  fought  for  with  avidity,  and  read  with  pleafure,  by 
thofe  who  at  the  time  were  efteemed  the  beft  judges  of  compofition.  A  minute  criticifm  on  their 
feveral  excellencies  is  unneceffary,  as  the  public  fanction  hath  (lamped  their  merit.  Suffice  it  to  fay, 
that  his  poems  are  on  the  moft  pleafing  fubjects,  and  are  executed  with  a  warm  animation  of  fancy, 
fterling  wit,  and,  at  the  fame  time,  great  correctnefs. 

"  He  wonderfully  excelled  in  burlefque  imitations  of  the  ancient  poets,  by  applying  their  thoughts 
to  modern  times  and  circumflances;  which  might  be  well  expected,  after  his  fhort  but  excellent 
ftrictures  on  this  manner  of  writing,  prefixed  to  his  imitations  of  the  firft  epiftle  of  thefecond  book 
of  Horace's  Epiftles,  infcribed  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  Hardwicke. 

"  How  far  he  followed  the  rules  there  laid  down,  mull  be  determined  by  thofe  who  fhall  read  and 
«ompare  the  original  with  the  tranflation  ;  in  which  it  may  be  found,  that  in  this  kind  of  imitation, 
he  hath  gone  through  a  pcem  of  three  hundred  lines,  without  ever  lofing  fight  of  the  original,  by 
introducing  new  thoughts  of  his  own. 

"  As  a  writer  of  profe,  whoever  Will  examine  his  ftyle,  will  find  that  he  is  entitled  to  a  place  amongft 
the  pureft  and  corrected  writers  of  the  Englifh  language.  He  always  puts  proper  words  in  proper 
places,  and  hath  at  the  fame  time  a  variety  in  different  members  of  his  periods,  which  would  other- 
wife  tire  and  difguft  the  reader  with  their  famenefs ;  a  failure  which  may  be  found  in  fome  of  the 
works  of  thofe  to  whom  the  public  have  afcribed  a  fuperior  degree  of  merit.  But  this  variety  oc- 
cafions  no  difficulty  or  embarraffment  in.  the  fenfe  intended  to  be  conveyed,  which  always  at  firft 
fight  appears  clear,  and  is  eafy  to  be  comprehended,  fo  that  the  reader  is  never  flopped  in  his  pro- 
grefs  to  ftudy  what  is  meant. 

"  This  is  his  characteriftic  as  a  writer,  on^whatever  fubject  he  engaged,  whether  it  were  ferious  or 
called  for  his  wit,  whether  political,  moral,  religious,  or  metaphyfical.  His  matter  is  always  moft 
pertinent  to  the  .fubject  which  he  handles;  he  reafons  with  clofenefs  and  precifion,  and  always,  by  a 
regular  chain  of  argument,  arrives  at  the  conclufions  which  he  profefles  it  his  defign  to  eftablifii. 
And  whoever  will  attend  to  the  exertions  of  his  tnind,  manifeftinj  at  fome  times  the  trueft  humour 
and  the  mofl  lively  wit,  at  other  times  the  molt  regular  chain  of  argument,  with  the  niceft  difcri- 
mination  and  marked  differences  of  abftract  ideas,  cannot  but  allow,  that  as  wit  confifts  in  quickly 
aflembling  ideas,  and  putting  thofo  together  with  readinefs  and  variety,  wherein  can  he  found  any 
refemblance ;  and  judgment,  on  the  contrary,  in  carefully  fc-parating  ideas  from  one  another,  and 
examining  them  apart;  I  fay,  that  he  cannot  but  allow  that  our  author  was  one  cf  thofe  very  few 
who  have  appeared  in  the  world  po3effed  of  theft  two  almoft  difco.-Jant  talents  of  the  underftanding." 


THE  WORKS  OF  JENTNS. 


POEMS. 


THE  ART  OF  DANCING. 

Infer ibed to  the  Right  Hon.  the  Lady  Fanny  Fielding*. 
"  Inceflu  patuit  Dca."  VIRG. 

WRITTEN  IN  THE  YEAR  1730. 

CANTO  I. 

IN  the  fmooth  dance  to  move  with  graceful  mien, 
Eafy  with  care,  and  fprightly,  though  ferene, 
To  mark  th'  infractions  echoing  {trains  convey, 
And  with  juft  fteps  each  tuneful  note  obey, 
!  teach  ;  be  prefent,  all  ye  facred  choir, 
Blow  the  foft  flute,  and  ftrike  the  founding'  lyre : 
When  Fielding  bids,  your  kind  afliftance  bring, 
And  at  her  feet  the  lowly  tribute  fling ; 
O  may  her  eyes  (to  her  this  verle  is  due), 
What  firft  thcmlelvcs  hrfpir'd,  vouchfafe  to  view  ! 
Hail,  lovelieft  art !  that  canft  all  hearts  enfnare, 
And  make  the  faireft  ftill  appear  more  fair. 
Beaaty  can  little  execution  do, 
Unlefs  flie  borrows  half  her  arms  from  you; 
Few,  like  Pygmalion,  doat  on  lifelefs  charms, 
Or  care  to  clafp  a  ftatue  in  their  arms ;  ' 
But  breafts  of  flint  muft  melt  with  fierce  defire, 
When  art  and  motion  wake  the  fleeping  fire ; 
A  Venns  drawn  by  great  Apelles"  hand, 
May  for  a  while  our  wond'ring  eyes  command, 
But  ftill,  though  form'd  with  all  the  pow'rs  of  art, 
The  lifelefs  piece  can  never  warm  the  heart ; 
So  a  fair  nymph,  perhaps,  may  pleafc  the  eye, 
Whilft  all  her  beauteous  limbs  unacflive  lie, 
Kut  when  her  charms  are  in  the  dance  difplay'd, 
Then  ev'ry  heart  adores  the  lovely  maid  : 
This  fets  her  beauty  in  the  faireft  light, 
And  fhows  each  grace  in  full  perfection  bright; 
Then  as  me  turns  around,  from  ev'ry  part, 
Like  porcupines,  fhe  fends  ajiercingdart; 
In  vain,  alas  !   the  fond  fpec^tator  tries 
To  fliun  the  pleafing  dangers  of  her  eyes, 
For,  Parthian  like,  {he  wounds  as  fure  behind 
With  flowing  curls,  and  ivory  neck  reclin'd  : 
Whether  her  fteps  the  Minuet's  mazes  trace, 
Or  the  flow  Louvre's  more  majeftic  pace, 
Whether  the  Rigadoon  employs  her  care, 
Or  fprightly  Jigg  difplays  the  nimble  fair, 
At  every  ftep  new  beauties  we  explore, 
And  worfliip  now,  what  we  admir'd  before : 

*  Daughter  of  Bafil,  fourth  Earl  of  Denbigh.  She 
Carried  Daniel  Earl  of  Wmdielfea,  and  died  Sep.  27; 
1734- 


So  when  ./Eneas  in  the  Tyrian  grove 
Fair  Venus  met,  the  charming  queen  of  love, 
The  beauteons  goddefs,  whilft  unmov'd  flie  ftood, 
Seem'd  fome  fair  nymph,  the  guardian  of  the  wood ; 
But  when  ihe  mov'd,  at  once  her  heavenly  mien 
And  graceful  ftep  confefs  bright  beauty's  queen, 
New  glories  o'er  her  form  each  moment  rtfe, 
And  all  the  goddefs  open  to  his  eyes. 

Now  hafte,  my  mufe,  purfue  thy  deftin'd  way, 
What  drcfles  belt  become  the  dancer,  fay ; 
The  rules  of  drefs  forget  not  to  impart, 
A  leflbn  previous  to  the  dancing  art. 

The  ibldier's  fcarlct  glowing  from  afar, 
Shows  that  his  bloody  occupation's  war ; 
Whilft  the  lawn  band,  beneath  a  double  chin, 
As  plainly  fpeaks  divinity  within ;  [fnow*, 

The  milk-maid  fafe   through   driving  rains  and 
Wrapp'd  in  her  cloke  and  propp'd  on  pattens  goes; 
While  the  foft  Belle  immurrd  in  velvet  chair, 
Needs  but  the  filken  flioe,  and  trufts  her  bofom 

bare : 

The  woolly  drab,  and  Englifli  broad  cloth  warm. 
Guard  well  the  horfeman  from  the  beating  ftorm, 
But  load  the  dancer  with  too  great  a  weight, 
And  call  from  ev'ry  pore  the  dewy  fweat ; 
Rather  let  him  his  active  limbs  difplay 
In  camblet  thin,  orglofTypaduafoy : 
Let  no  unwieldy  pride  his  moulders  prefe, 
But  airy,  light,1  and  eafy  be  his  drefs ; 
Thin  be  his  yielding  fole,  and  low  his  heel, 
So  fhall  he  nimbly  bound,  and  fafely  wheel. 

But  let  not  precepts  known  my  verfe  prolong, 
Precepts  which  ufe  will  better  teach  than  fong; 
For  why  fliould  I  the  gallant  fpark  command, 
With  clean  white  gloves  to  fit  his  ready  hand? 
Or  in  his  fob  enlivening  fpirits  wear, 
And  pungent  falts  to  raife  the  fainting  fair  ? 
Or  hint,  the  fword  that  dangles  at  his  fide, 
Should  from  its  filken  bondage  be  unty'd  ? 
Why  fhouldmy  lays  the  youtkfnl  tribe  advife» 
Left  fnowy  clouds  from  out  their  wigs  arife : 
So  fhall  their  partners  mourn  their  laces  fpoil'd, 
And  mining  filks  with  greafy  powder  foil'd  ? 
Nor  need  I,  fure,  bid  prudent  youths  beware, 
Left  with  erected  tongues  their  buckles  ftare, 
The  pointed  fteel  {hall  oft  their  ftockings  rend, 
And  oft  th'  approaching  petticoat  offend. 

And  now,  ye  youthful  fair,  I  fing  to  you, 
With  pleafing  fmiles  my  ufeful  labours  view ; 
For  you  the  filk-worm's  fine-wrought  webs  dif 
play, 
And  lab'ring  fpin  tjieir  little  lives  away, 


59* 


THE   WORKS   OF    TENYNS. 


For  you  bright  gems  with  radiant  colours  glow, 
Fair  as  the  dyes  that  paint  the  heavenly  bow, 
For  you  the  fea  refigns  its  pearly  {lore, 
And  earth  unlocks  her  mines  of  treafur'd  ore ; 
In  vain  yet  nature  thus  her  gifts  bellows, 
Unlefs  yourfelves  with  art  thofe  gifts  difpofe. 

Yet  think  not,  nymphs,  that  in  the  glitt'ring  ball, 
One  form  of  drefs  prefcrib'd  can  fuit  with  all ; 
One  brighteft  fhines  when  wealth  and  art  combine, 
To  make  the  fiuifh'd  piece,  completely  fine; 
When  leaft  adorn'd,  another  deals  our  hearts) 
And  rich  in  native  beauties,  wants  not  arts; 
In  fome  are  fuch  refiftlefs  graces  found, 
That  in  all  dreffes  they  are  Jure  to  wound ; 
Their  perfect  forms  all  foreign  aidsdefpife, 
And  gems  but  borrow  luftre  from  their  eyes,  [feen 

Let  the  fair  nymph,  in  whofe  plump  cheeks  are 
A  conftant  blufh,  be  clad  in  cheerful  green ; 
In  fuch  a  drefs  the  fporti  ve  lea-nymphs  go ; 
So  in  their  graffy  bed  frefh  rofes  blow : 
The  lafs,  whofe  Ikia  is  like  the  hazel  brown, 
With  brighter  yellow  fhould  o'ercome  her  own  ; 
While  maids  grown  pale  with  ficknefs  or  defpair, 
The  fable's  mournful  dye  fhould  choofe  to  wear; 
So  the  pale  moon  ftill  fhines  with  pureft  light, 
Cloth'd  in  the  dufky  mantle  of  the  night. 

But  far  from  you  be  all  thofe  treach'rous  arts, 
That  wound  with  painted  'charms  unwary  hearts ; 
Dancing's  a  toucli-ilone  that  true  beauty  tries, 
Norfuffers  charms  that  nature's  hand  denies: 
Though  for  a  while  we  may  with  wonder  view 
The  rofy  blufh,  and  fkin  of  lovely  hue, 
Yet  foon  the  dance  will  caufe  the  cheeks  to  glow, 
And  melt  the  waxen  lips,  and  neck  of  fnow ; 
So  fhine  the  fields  in  icy  fetters  bound, 
Whiht  frozen  gems  bcfpangle  all  the  ground  ; 
Through  the  clear  cryftal  of  the  glitt'ring  fnow, 
With  fcarlet  dye  theblufhing  haw  thorns  glow; 
O'er  all  the  plains  unnumber'd  glories  rife, 
And  a  new  bright  creation  charms  our  eyes; 
Till  zephyr  breathes,  then  all  at  once  decay 
The  Iplendid  fcenes,  their  glories  fade  away, 
The  fields  refign  the  beauties  not  their  own, 
And  all  their  fnowy  charms  run  trickling  down. 

Dare  I  in  fuch  momentous  points  advife, 
I  ftould  condemn  the  hoop's  enormous  fize  : 
Of  ills  I  fpeak  by  long  experience  found,  T 

Oft  have  1  trod  th'  immeafurable  round,  / 

And  mourn'd  my  fhins  bruis'd  black  with  many  C 
a  wound.  j 

Nor  fhould  the  tighten'd  ftays,  too  ftraitly  fec'd, 
In  whalebone  bondage  gall  the  flender  waift ; 
Nor  waving  lappets  fhould  the  dancing  fair, 
Nor  ruffles  edg'd  with  dangling  fringes  wear ; 
Oft  will  the  cobweb-ornaments  catch  hold 
On  the  approaching  button  rough  with  gold, 
Nor  force  nor  art  can  then  the  bonds  divide, 
When  once  th'  entangled  Gordian  knot  is  ty'd. 
So  the  unhappy  pair,  by  Hymen's  power, 
Together  join'd  in  fome  ill-fated  hour, 
The  more  they  ftrive  their  freedom  to  regain, 
The  fafter  binds  th'  indiffoluble  chain. 

Let  each  fair  maid,  who  fears  to  be  difgrac'd, 
Ever  be  fure  to  tie  her  garters  faft, 
Left  the  loos'd  firing,  amidft  the  public  ball, 
A  wifh'd-for  prize  to  fome  proud  fop  fhould  fall, 
Who  the  rich  treafure  fhall  triumphant  fhow, 
And  with  -warm  bluflics  caufe  her  cheeks  to  glow. 


But  yet,  (as  fortune  by  the  felf-fame 
She  humbles  many,  fouie  -delights  to  raife) 
It  happen'd  once,  a  fair  illuftnons  dame 
By  fuch  neglect  acquir'd  immortal  tame. 
And  hence  the  radiant  ftar  and  garter  blue 
Britannia's  nobles  grace,  if  fame  fays  true  : 
Hence  ftill,  Plantagenet,  thy  beauties  bloom, 
Though  long  fince  tnoulder'd  in  the  dufky  tomb, 
Still  thy  loft  garter  is-fovereign's  care, 
And  what  each  royal  breaft  is  proud  to  wear. 

But  Jet  me  new  my  lovely  charge  remind, 
Left  they  forgetful  leave  their  fans  behind; 
Lay  not,  ye  fair,  the  pretty  toy  alide, 
A  toy  at  once  difplay'd  for  ufe  and  pride, 
A  wond'rous  engine,  that  by  magic  charms 
Cools  your  own  breafts,  and  ev'ry  other's  warms. 
What  daring  bard  lhall  e'er  attempt  to  teil 
The  pow'rs  that  in  this  little  weapon  dwell  ? 
What  verfe  can  e'er  explain  its  various  parts. 
Its  num'rous  tifes,  motions,  charms,  and,  arts  ? 
Its  painred  folds  that  oft  extended  wide, 
Th'  afflicted  fair  one's  blubber'd  beauties  hide, 
When  fecret  forrows  her  fad  bofom  fill, 
If  Strephon  is  unkind,  or  Shock  is  ill: 
Its  (ticks,  on  which  her  eves  dejected  pore, 
Aud  pointing  fingers  number  o'er  and  o'er, 
When  the  kind  virgin  burns  with  fccret  fharae, 
Dies  to  confent,  yet  fears  to  own  her  flame  ; 
Its  fiiake  triumphant,  its  victorious  clap, 
Its  angry  flutter,  and  its  wanton  tap  ? 

Forbear,  my  mufe,  th'  extenfive  theme  to  fing, 
Nor  truft  in  fuch  a  flight  thy  tender  wing ; 
Rather  do  you  in  humble  lines  proclaim, 
From  whence  this  engine  took  its  form  and  name, 
Say  from  what  caufe  it  firft  deriv'd  its  birth, 
How  form'd  in  heaven,  how   thence  deduc'd  to 
earth. 

Once  in  Arcadia,  that  fam'd  feat  of  love, 
There  liv'd  a  nymph  the  pride  of  all  the  grove, 
A  lovely  nymph,  adorn'd  with  ev'ry  grace, 
An  eafy  fliape,  and  fvveetly-blooming  face ; 
Fanny,  the  damfel's  name,  aschafte  as  fair, 
Each  virgin's  envy,  and  each  fwain's  defpair; 
To  charm  her  ear  the  rival  fliepherds  fing, 
Blow  the  foft  flute,  and  wake  the  trembling  firing; 
For  her  they  leave  their  wand'ring  flocks  to  rove, "} 
Whiift   Fanny's  name  refounds  through  ev'ry  r 
grove>  [love ;  Q 

And  fpreads  on  ev'ry  tree,  enclos'd  in  knots  ef^ 
As  Fielding's  now,  her  eyes  all  hearts  inflame, 
Like  her  in  beauty,  as  alike  in  name. 
Twas  when  the  Summer  fun  now  mounted 

high, 

With  fiercer  beams  had  fcorch'd  the  glowing  Iky, 
Beneath  the  covert  of  a  cooling  fliade, 
To  £hun  the  heat,  this  lovely  nymph  was  laid  ; 
The  fultiy  weather  o'er  her  cheeks  had  fpread 
A  blufh  that  added  to  their  native  red, 
And  her  fair  brealt,  as  polifh'd  marble  white, 
Was  half  conceal'd,  and  half  expos'd  to  fight : 
yEolus,  the  mighty  god  whom  winds  obey, 
ObfervM  the  beauteous  maid,  as  thus  fhe  lay; 
O'er  all  her  charms  he  gaz'd  with  fond  delight, 
And  fuck'd  in  poifon  at  the  dangerous  light ; 
He  fighs,  he  burns';  at  laft  declares  his  pain,' 
But  ftill  he  fighs,  and  ftill  he  vvoos  in  vain  ; 


O    E    M    S. 


993 


The  cruel  nymph,  regardtefs  of  his  moan, 
Minds  not  his  flame,  uneafy  with  her  own  ; 
But  dill  complains,  that  he  who  rul'd  the  air 
Would  not  command  one  zephyr  to  repair 
Around  her  face,  nor  gentle  breeze  to  play 
Through  the  dark  glade,  to  cool  the  fultry  day  ; 
Ky  love  incited,  and  the  hopes  of  joy, 
Th'  ingenious  god  contriv'd  this  pretty  toy, 
With  gales  inceffant  to  relieve  her  flame, 
And  call'd  it  Fan,  from  lovely  Fanny's  name. 

CANTO  II. 

Now  fee  prepar'd  to  lead  the  fprightly  dance, 
The  lovely  nymphs  and   well-dreiVd  youths  ad 
vance  ; 

The  fpacious  room  receives  its  jovial  gueft, 
And  the  floor  fliakes  with  pleafing  weight  oppreft: 
Thick  rang'd  on  ev'ry  fide,  with  various  dyes 
The  fair  in  glofly  filks  our  fight  furprife  ; 
So  in  a  garden  bath'd  with  genial  fhow'rs, 
A  thoufand  forts  of  variegated  flow'rs, 
Jonquils,  carnations,  pinks,  and  tulips  rife, 
And  in  a  gay  confufion  charm  our  eyes. 
High   o'er   their   heads,   with   num'rous  candles 

bright, 

Large  fconces  fhed  their  fparkling  beams  of  light, 
Their  fparkling  beams,  that  ftill  more  brightly 

glow, 

Reflected  back  from  gems/and  eyes  below  : 
Unnumber'd  fans  to  cool  the  crowded  fair, 
With  breathing  zephyrs  move  the  circling  air: 
The  fprightly  fiddle,  and  the  founding  lyre, 
Each  youthful   breaft  with  gen'rous  warmth  in- 

fpire  ; 

Fraught  with  all  joys  the  blifsful  moments  fly, 
Whilft  mufic  melts  the  ear,   and  beauty  charms 

the  eye. 

Now  let  the  youth,  to  whofe  fuperior  place 
It  firft  belongs  the  fplendid  ball  to  grace, 
With  humble  bow  and  ready  hand  prepare 
Forth  from  the  crowd  to  lead  his  chofen  fair; 
The  fair  iliall  not  his  kind  requeft  deny, 
But  to- the  pleafing  toil  with  equal  ardour  fly. 

But  ftay,  ra(h  pair,  nor  yet  untaught  advance  : 
Firft  hear  the  mufe,  ere  you  attempt  to  dance  : 

*  By  art  directed  o'er  the  foaming  tide, 
Secnre  from  rocks  the  painted  vellels  glide  ; 
By  art  the  chariot  fcours  the  dufty  plain, 
Springs  at  the  whip,  and  f  hears  the   ilrait'ning 

rein  ; 

To  art  our  bodies  muft  obedient  prove, 
If  e'er  we  hope  with  graceful  eafe  to  move. 

Long  was  the  dancing  art  unfix'd  and  free, 
Hence  loft  in  error,  and  uncertainty ; 
No  precepts  did  it  mind,  or  rules  obey, 
But  ev'ry  mafter  taught  a  diff'rent  way  : 
Hence  ere  each  new-born  dance  was  fully  try'd, 
The  lovely  product  ev'n  in  blooming  dy'd  ; 
Through  various  hands  in  wild  confufion  toft ; 
Its  fteps  were  alter'd,  and  its  beauties  loft ; 

*  "  Arte  citae  veloque  rates  remoque  moventur, 
"  Arte  leves  currus."  x      OVID. 


f  " Nee  audit  currus  habenas.' 

Vol.. XI. 


VJRG. 


Till  I  Fuillet,  the  pride  of  Gallia  rofe, 
And  did  the  dance  in  characters  compofe  ; 
Each  lovely  grace  by  certain  marks  he  taught, 
And  ev'ry  ftep  in  lading  volumes  wrote  ; 
Hence  o'er  the  world  this  pleafing  art  ihall  fpread, 
And  ev'ry  dance  in  ev'ry  clime  be  read, 
By  diftant  mafters  fhall  each  ftep  be  feen» 
Though  mountains  rife,  and  oceans  roar  between  j 
Hence,  with  her  lifter  arts,  ihall  dancing  claim 
An  equal  right  to  univerlal  fame  ; 
And  Ilaac's  Rigadoon  fhall  Jive  as  long 
As  Raphael's  painting,  or  as  Virgil's  fong. 

Wife  nature  ever,  with  a  prudent  hand, 
Difpenfes  various  gifts  to  ev'ry  land  ; 
To  ev'ry  nation  frugally  irpparts 
A  genius  fit  for  fome  peculiar  arts  ; 
To  trade  the  Dutch  incline,  the  Swifs  to  arms, 
Mufic  and  verfe  are  foft  Italia's  charms ; 
Britannia  juftly  glories  to  have  found 
Lands  unexplor'd,  and  fail'd  the  globe  around  ; 
But  none  will  fure  prefume  to  rival  France, 
Whether  fhe  forms  or  executes  the  dance: 
To  her  exalted  genius  'tis  we  owe 
The  fprightly  Rigadoon  and  Louvre  flow, 
The  Boree,  and  Gourant  unpradlis'd  long, 
Th'  immortal  Minuet,  ami  fmooth  Bretagne, 
With  all  thofe  dances  of  illuftrious  fame, 
||  Which   from  their   native  country  take  their 

name : 

With  thefe  let  ev'ry  ball  be  firft  begun, 
Nor  Country-Dance  intrude  till  theie  are  done. 

Each  cautious  bard,  ere  he  attempts  to  fing, 
Firft  gently  flutt'ring  tries  his  tender  wing ; 
And  if  he  finds  that  with  uncommon  fire 
The  mufes  all  his  raptur'd  foul  infpire, 
At  once  to  Heav'n  he  foars  in  lofty  odes, 
And  fings  alone  of  heroes  and  of  gods ; 
But  if  he  trembling  fears  a  flight  fo  high, 
He  then  defcends  to  fofter  elegy  ; 
And  if  in  elegy  he  can't  fucceed. 
In  paftoral  he  itill  may  tune  the  oaten  reed : 
So  fhould  the  dancer,  ere.  he  tries  to  move, 
With  care  his  ftrength,  his  weight  and  genius 

prove ; 

Then,  if  he  finds  kind  nature's  gifts  impart 
Endowments  proper  for  the  dancing  art, 
If  in  himfelf  he  feels  together  join'd, 
An  active  body  and  ambitious  mind, 
In  nimble  Rigadoons  he  may  advance, 
Or  in  the  Louvre's  flow  majeftic  dance  : 
If  thefe  he  fears  to  reach,  with  eafy  pace 
Let  him  the  Minuet's  circling  mazes  trace  : 
Is  this  too  hard  ?     This  too  let  him  forbear. 
And  to  the  Country-Dance  confine  his  care. 

Would  y"ou  in  dancing  ev'ry  fault  avoid, 
To  keep  true  time  be  firft  your  thoughts  employ Mj 
All  other  errors  they  in  vain  (hall  mend, 
Who  in  this  one  important  point  offend  ; 
For  this,  when  now  united  hand  in  hand 
Eager  to  ftart  the  youthful  couple  ftand, 
Let  them  a  while  their  nimble  feet  reftrain, 
And  with  foft  taps  beat  time  to  every  itrain : 

f  Fuillet  wrote  the  Art  of  Dancing  by  Cbarac* 
ters,  in  French,  fince  tranjlated  by  Weaver. 
\  French  Dances- 


THE   WORKS    OF  JENYNJS. 


$94 

So  for  the  race  prepar'd  two  courfers  ftand, 
And  with  impatient  pawmgs  fpurn  the  fand. 

In  vain  a  matter  ihall  employ  his  care, 
Where  nature  has  once  fix'd  a  clumi'y  air  ; 
Rather  let  fuch,  to  country  fports  confiu'd, 
Purfue  the  flying  hare  or  tim'rous  hind  : 
Nor  yet,  while  1  the  rural  'fquire  dei'pife, 
A  mien  effeminate  would  1  advile  : 
With  equal  ffcbi     !  'v-juid  ciit  fop  deride, 
Nor  let  ..Mi  d-nt.  — but  on  the  woman's  fide. 

And  you,  fair  nymphs,  avoid  with  equal  care 
A  Piiiiid  duilnefs,  and  a  coquette  air  ; 
Neither  with  eyes,  that  ever  love  the  ground, 
Afleep,  like  (pinning  tops,  run  round  and  round, 
Nor  yet  with  giddy  looks  and  wanton  pride 
Stare  all  around,  and  fkip  from  fide  to  fide. 

True  dancing,  like  irue  wit,  is  beft  expreft 
By  nature  only  to  advantage  dreft; 
'Tis  not  a  nimble  hound,  or  caper  high, 
That  can  pretend  to  pleafe  a  curious  eye  ; 
Goo.-l  judges  no  fuch  tumbler's  tricks  regard, 
Or  think  them  beautiful,  becaufe  they're  hard. 

'Tis  not  enough  that  ev'ry  (tander-by 
No  glaring  errors  in  your  fteps  can  fpy, 
The  dance  and  mufic  muft  fo  nicely  meet, 
Ea  -h  note  mould  ieem  an  echo  to  her  feet ; 
A  •  amelefs  grace  muft  in  each  movement  dwell, 
Which  words  can  ne'er  exprefs,  or  precepts  telJ, 
Not  to  be  taught,  but  ever  to  be  feen 
In  Flavia's  air,  and  Chloe's  eafy  mien; 
Tis  fuch  an  aif  that  makes  her  thoufands  fall, 
When  Fielding  dances  at  a  birth-night  ball ; 
Smooth  as  Camilla  (he  {kirns  o'er  the  plain. 
And  flies  like  her  through  crowds  of  heroes  fiain. 

Now  when  the  Minuet,  oft  repeated  o'er, 
(Like  all  terreftrialjoys)  can  pieafe  no  more, 
And  ev'ry  nymph,  refuting  to  expand 
Her  charms,  declines  the  circulating  hand  ; 
Then  let  the  jovial  Country-Dance  begin, 
And  rhe  loud  riddles  call  each  ftraggler  in  : 
But  ere  they  come,  permit  me  to  difclofe, 
How  firft,  as  legends  tell,  this  pailime  rofe. 

In  ancient  times  (fuch  times  are  now  no  more) 
When  Albion's  crown  illuftrious  Arthur  were, 
Iti  fame  fair  op'ning  glade,  each  Summer's  night, 
Where  the  pale  moon  diffus'd  her  filver  light, 
On  the  foft  carpet  of  a  grafly  field, 
The  fporting  fairies  their  aflemblies  held  : 
Some  lightly  tripping  with  their  pigmy  queen, 
In  circling  ringlets  mark'd  the  level  green, 
Some  with  foft  notes  bade  mellow  pipes  refounj, 
And  mufic  warble  through  the  groves  around  ; 
Oft  lonely  fhepherds  by  the  foreft  fide, 
Bel-' led  peafants  oft  their  revels  fpy'd, 
Ann  home  returning,  o'er  their  nut-brown  ale 
Their  guefts  diverted  with  the  wond'rous  tale. 
Inftrufled  hence,  throughout  the  Britifa  ifle, 
A]  i:  fond  to  imitate  the  pleafing  toil, 
Round  where   the   trembling  May-pole  fix'd  on 

high, 

Uplifts  its  flow'ry  honours  to  the  fky, 
The  ruddy  maids  and  fun-burnt  fwains  cefort, 
And  praclife  ev'ry  night  the  lovely  fport ; 
O6  ev'ry  lide  /Eolian  artifts  ftand, 
Whofr  artive  elbows  fwelling  winds  command, 
The  fwehing  winds  harmonious  pipes  infpire, 
And  blow  in  ev'ry  breaft  a  gen'rous  fire. 

6 


Thus  taught,  at  firft  the  Country-Dance  began, 
And  hence  to  cities  and  to  courts  it  ran; 
Succeeding  ages  did  in  time  impart 
Various  improvements  to  the  lovely  art; 
From  fields  and  groves  to  palaces  remov'd, 
Great  ones  the  pieafing  cxercife  approv'd : 
Hence  the  loud  fiddle  and  flirill  trumpet's  founds 
Are  made  companions  of  the  dancer's  bounds; 
Hence  gems,    arid  filks,    brocades,    and  ribbons 

join, 
To  make  the  ball  with  perfect  luftre  fhine. 

So  rude  at  firit  the  tragic  mufe  appear'd, 
Her  voice  alone  by  ruftic  rabble  heard  ; 
Where  twifting  trees  a  cooling  arbour  made, 
The  pleas'd  fpectators  fat  beneath  the  fliade  ; 
The  homely  ftage  with  ruflies  green  was  ftrew'd, 
And  ;n  a  cart  the  ftrolling  actors  rode; 
Till  rime  at  length. improv'd  the  great  defign, 
And  bade    the   fcenes   with   painted    landfcapes 

fliine ; 

Then  art  did  all  the  bright  machines  difpofe, 
And  theatres  of  Parian  marble  rofe; 
Then  mimic  thunder  (hook  the  canvas  fky, 
And  gods  defcenrfcd  from  their  tow'rs  on  high. 

With  caution  now  let  ev'ry  youth  prepare 
To  choofe  a  partner  from  the  mingled  fair ; 
Vain  would  be  here  th'  inftructing  mule's  voice, 
If  Ihe  pretended  to  direct  his  choice  : 
Beauty  alone  by  fancy  is  expreft, 
And  charms  in  different  forms  each  diff'rent  breaft: 
A  fnowy  fkin  this  am'rous  youth  admires, 
vvhilfl  nut-brown  cheeks  another's  bofom  fires; 
Small  '.vaifts  ar.,i  (L-nder  limbs  fome  hearts  infnare, 
Whilft  others  love  the  more  fubftantial  fair. 

But    let  not    outward  charms  your   judgment 

fway, 

Your  realbn  rather  than  your  eyes  obey  ; 
Ami  in  the  dance,  as  in  the  marriage  noofe, 
Rather  for  merit,  than  for  beauty  choofe  : 
Be  her  your  choice,  who  knows  with  perfect  ikill 
When  (he  Ihould  move,  and  when  flie  ILould  be 

ftill, 

Who  uninftru&ed  can  perform  her  fliare, 
And  kindly  half  the  pleafing  burden  bear. 
Unhappy  is  that  hopelefs  wretch's  fate, 
Who  fetter'd  in  the  matrimonial  ftate 
With  a  poor  fimple  inexperienc'd  wife, 
Is  forc'd  to  lead  the  tedious  dance  of  life; 
And  fuch  is  his,  with  fuch  a  partner  join'd, 
A  moving  puppet,  but  without  a  mind : 
Still  muft  his  hand  be  pointing  out  the  w^iy. 
Yet  ne'er  can  teach  fo  fall  as  flie  can  ftray  ; 
Beni»;h  her  follies  he  muft  ever  groan, 
And  ever  blufli  for  errors  not  his  own. 

But  now  behold,  united  hand  in  hand, 
Rang'd  on    each   fide,    the   weli-pair'd  couples 

ftand  ! 

Each  youthful  bofom  beating  with  delight, 
Waits  the  brilk  fignal  tor  the  pleafing  fight; 
While  lovely  eyes,  that,  flalli  unufual  rays, 
\nd  fnowy  bubbies  pull'd  above  the  ftays, 
Quick  bufy  hands,  and  bridling  heads  declare 
The  fond  impatience  of  the  darting  fair. 
And  fee,  the  fprightly  dance  is  now  begun  ! 
Now  here,  now  there,  the  giddy  maze  they  run ; 
N'ow  with  flow  fteps  they  pace  the  circling  ring, 
Now  aJU  coofus'd,  too  fwift  for  fight  they  fpring : 


POEMS. 


995 


So  in  a  wheel,  v.-itk  rapid  fury  toft, 

The  undiftinguifli'd  fpokes  are  in  the  motion  loft. 

The  dancer  here  no  more  requires  a  guide, 
To  no  (trict  fleps  his  nimble  feet  are  ty'd  ; 
The  mule's  precepts  here  would  u (clefs  be, 
"Where  all  is  t'ancy'd,  unconfin'd,  and  free  ; 
Let  him  but,  to  the  mufic's  voice  attend, 
By  this  instructed,  he  ran  ne'er  offend  : 
If  to  his  fhare  it  falls  the  dance  to  lead, 
In  well-known  paths  he  may  be  fure  to  tread  ; 
If  others  lead,  let  him  their  motions  view, 
And  in  their  ftepsthe  winding  maze  pnrfue. 

In  every  country-dance  a  ferious  mind, 
Turn'd  for  reflection,  can  a  moral  find. 
In  hunt-the-fquirrel  thus  the  nymph  we  view, 
Seeks  when  we  fly,  but  flies  when  we  purfue  : 
Thus  in  round-dances  where  our  partners  change, 
And  unconfin'd  from  fair  to  fair  we  range, 
As  foon  as  one  from  his  own  confort  flies, 
Another  feizes  on  the  lovely  prize  ; 
A  while  the  fav'rite  youth  enjojs  her  charms, 
Till  the  next  comer  ftealsher  from  his  arms; 
New  ones  fucceed,  the  laft  is  itill  her  care  ; 
How  true  an  emblem  of  th'  inconstant  fair  ! 

Where  can  philofophers,  and  fages  wife, 
Who  read  the  curious  volumes  of  the  ikies, 
A  model  more  exact  than  dancing  name 
Of  the  creation's  univerfal  frame  ? 
Where  worlds  unnumber'd  o'er  th'  ethereal  way 
In  a  bright  regular  confulion  dray  ; 
Now  here,  now  there  they  whirl  along  the  fky, 
Now  near  approach,  and  now  far  diftant  fly; 
Now  meet  in  the  fame  order  they  begun, 
And  then  the  great  celeftial  dance  is  done. 

Where  can  the  mor'lift  find  a  juiler  plan 
Of  the  vain  labours  and  the  life  of  man  ; 
A  while  through  juftling   crowds   we  toil,  and 

fweat, 

And  eagerly  purfue  we  know  not  what ; 
Then  when  our  trifling  fhort-liv'd  race  is  rnn, 
Quite  tir'd  fit  down,  juft  where  we  firft  begun. 

Though  to  your  arms  kind  fate's  indulgent  care 
Has  given  a  partner  exquifitely  fair, 
Let  not  her  charms  fo  much  engage  your  heart, 
That  you  neglect  the  fkiiful  dancer's  part ; 
Be  not,  when  you  the  tuneful  notes  would  hear, 
Still  whifp'ring  idle  prattle  in  her  ear  ; 
When  you  fhould  be  eniploy'd,  be  not  at  play, 
Nor  for  your  joys  all  other  ueps  delay  ; 
But  when  the  finifli'd  dance  you  once  have  done, 
And  with  applaufe  through  ev'ry  couple  run, 
There  reft  a  while ;    there  fnatch    the  fleeting 

blifs, 

The  tender  whifper,  and  the  balmy  kifs ; 
Each  fecret  wifli,  each  fofter  hope  confefs, 
And  her  moift  palm  with  eager  fingers  prefs; 
"With  fmiles  the  fair  fhall  hear  your  warm  defires, 
When  mufic  melts  her  foul,  and  dancing  fires. 

Thus  mix'd  with  love,  the  pleafing  toil  purfue, 
Till  the  unwelcome  morn  appears  in  view ; 
Then,  when  approaching  day  its  beams  difplays, 
And  the  dull  candles  fhine  with  fainter  rays ; 
Then,  when  the  fun  juft  rifes  o'er  the  deep, 
And  each  bright  eye  is  almoft  fet  in  fleep  ; 
With  ready  hand,  obfequious  youths  prepare 
Safe  to  her  coach  to  lead  each  chofen 
And  guard  her  from  the  morn's  inclement 


.CCJJ  , 

prepare    ~) 
fair,  L 

nent  air:.) 


Let  a  warm  hood  enwrap  her  lovely  head, 
And  o'er  her  neck  a  handkerchief  be  fpread; 
Around  her  Shoulders  let  this  arm  be  caft  ;' 
Whilft  that  from  cold  defends  her  (lender  waift; 
With  kiSfes  warm  her  balmy  lips  (hall  glow, 
Unchill'd  by  nightly  damps  or  wint'iy  ("now  ; 
While  gen'rous  white-wine,  mull'd  with  ginger 

warm, 
Safely  protects  her  inward  frame  from  harm. 

But  ever  let  my  lovely  pupils  fear 
To  chill  their  mantling  blood  with  cold  fmall  beer. 
Ah,  thoughtlefs  fair !  the  tempting  draught  re- 

fufe, 

When  thus  forewarn'd  by  my  experienc'd  mufe  i 
Let  the  fad  confequence  your  thoughts  employ, 
Nor  hazard  future  pains  for  prefent  joy  ; 
Deltniction  lurks  within  the  nois'nous  dofe, 
A  fawl  fever,  or  a  pimpled  nofe. 

Thus  through  each  precept  of  the  dancing  art 
The  mule  hasplay'd  the  kind  inftrurtor's  part; 
Through  ev'ry  maze  .her  pupils  flie  has  led, 
And  pointed  out  the  fureft  paths  to  tread  : 
No  more  remains ;  no  more  the  goddefs  fings, 
But  drops  her  pinions,  and  unfurls  her  wings. 
On  downy  beds  the  weary  dancers  lie, 
And  deep's  filk  cords  tie  down  each  drowfy  eye  ; 
Delightful  dreams  their  pleafing  f ports  reftore. 
And  ev'n  in  fleep  they  feem  to  dance  once  more* 

And  now  the  work  completely  finiQj'd  lies, 
Which  the  devouring  teeth  of  time  defies  : 
Whilft  birds  in  air,  or  fiSh  in  ftreams  we  find, 
Ordamfels  fret  with  aged  partners  join'd; 
As  long  as  nymphs  fliall  with  attentive  ear 
A  fiddle  rather  than  a  fermon'hear  : 
So  long  the  brighteft  eyes  rtiall  oft  perufe 
Thefe  ufeful  lints  of  my  instructive  mufe  ; 
Each  belie  fhall  wear  them  wrote  upon  her  fan, 
And  each  bright  beau  fliall  read  them— if  he  can. 

AN  EPISTLE, 

WRITTEN  IN  THE  COUNTRY, 

To  the  Right  Honourable  the  Lord  Lovelace,  tltit 
in  Town.     September  1735. 

IK  days,  my  Lord,  when  mother  time. 

Though  now  grown  old,  was  in  her  prime, 

When  Saturn  firft  began  to  rale, 

And  Jove  was  hardly  come  from  fchool, 

How  happy  was  a  country  life  1 

How  free  from  wickednefs  and  ftrife  I 

Then  each  man  livM  upon  his  farm, 

Antl  thought  and  did  no  mortal  harm  ; 

On  mofTy  banks  fair  virgins  (lent, 

As  harmlefs  as  the  flocks  they  kept ; 

Then  love  was  all  they  had  to  do, 

A  in!  nymphs  were  chalte,  and  fwains  were  true. 

But  now,  whatever  poets  write, 
'Tis  lure  the  cafe  is  alter'd  quite : 
Virtue  no  more  in  rural  plains, 
Or  innocence  or  peace  remains  ; 
But  vice  is  in  the  cottage  found, 
And  country  girls  are  oft  unfound; 
Fierce  party  rage  each  village  fires, 
With  wars  of  juftices  and  'fquires  j 
Attorneys,  for  a  barley  draw, 
Whole  ages  hamper  folks  in  law, 


And  ev'ry  neighbour's  in  a  flame 
About  their  rates,  or  tithes,  or  game  : 

Some  quarrel  for  their  hares  ami  pigeons, 

And  Come  for  diff'rence  in  religions  : 

Some  hold  their  parfon  the  beft  preacher, 

The  tinker  fome  a  better  teacher; 

Thefe  to  the  church  they  fight  for  ftrangers, 

Have  faith  in  nothing  but  her  dangers ; 

While  thofe,  a  more  believing  people, 

Can  fwallow  all  things — but  a  fteeple. 
But  I,  my  Lord,  who,  as  you  know, 

Care  little  how  thefe  matters  go, 

And  equally  deteft  the  ftrife 

And  ufual  joys  of  country  life, 

Have  by  good  fortune  little  fliare 

Of  its  diverfions  or  its  care ; 

For  faldom  I  with  'fquires  unite, 

Who  hunt  all  day,  and  drink  all  night ; 

Nor  reckon  wonderful  inviting, 

At  quarter-feffions,  or  cock-fighting: 

But  then  no  farm  I  occupy 

With  fheep  to  rot,  and  cows  to  die ; 

Nor  rage  I  much,  or  much  defpair, 

Though  in  my  hedge  I  find  a  fnare; 

Nor  view  I,  with  due  admiration, 

All  the  high  honours  here  in  faihion  ; 

The  great  commiffions  of  the  quorum, 

Terrors  to  all  who  come  before  'em ; 

Militia  fcarlet  edg'd  with  gold, 

Or  the  white  ftaff  high-flieriffs  hold  ; 

The  repxefentative's  careffing, 

The  judge's  bow,  the  bifhop's  bleffmg  ; 

Nor  can  I  for  my  foul  delight 

In  the  dull  feaft  of  neighb'ring  knight, 

Who,  if  you  fend  three  days  before, 

In  white  gloves  meets  you  at  the  door, 

With  fuperfluity  of  breeding 

Firft  makes  you  fick,  and  then  with  feeding  : 

Or  if  with  ceremqny  cloy'd, 

You  would  next  time  fuch  plagues  avoid, 
And  vifir  without  previous  notice, 
"  John,  John,  a  coach  !•— I  can't  think  who  'tis, 
My  Lady  cries,  who  fpies  your  coach, 

Ere  you  the  avenue  approach  : 

"  Lord,  how  unlucky  !— warning  day  '. 

"  And  all  the  men  are  in  the  hay  !" 

Entrance  to  gain  is  fomething  hard, 

The  doj,s  all  bark,  the  gates  are  barr'd ; 

The  yard's  with  lines  of  linen  crolVd, 

The  hall-door's  lock'd,  the  key  is  loft  : 

Thefe  difficulties  all  o'ercome, 

We  reach  at  length  the  drawing-room  ; 

,Then  there's  fuch  trampling  over-head, 
Madam  you'd  fwear  was  brought-to-bed ; 
Mifs  in  a  hurry  burfts  her  lock, 
To  get  clean  fleeves  to  hide  her  fmock ; 
The  fervants  run,  the  pewter  clatters, 
My  lady  drefles,  calls,  and  chatters  ; 
The  cook-maid  raves  for  want  of  butter, 
Pigs  fqueak,  fowls  fcream,  and  green  geefe  flutter 
Now  after  three  hours  tedious  waiting, 
On  all  our  neighbour's  faults  debating, 
And  having  nine  times  view'd  the  garden, 
In  which  there's  nothing  worth  a  farthing, 
In  comes  my  lady  and  the  pudden  : 
"  You  will  excufe,  Sir,— on  a  fudden"— • 
Then  that  we  may  have  four  and  four, 
The  bacon,  fowls,  and.  cauliflow'r, 


OF   J.ENYNS. 

Their  ancient  unity  divide, 

The  top  one  graces,  one  each  fide  j 

And  by  and  by,  the  fecond  courfe 

Homes  lagging  like  a  diilanc'd  horfe  ; 

A  falver  then  to  church  and  king, 

The  butler  fweats,  the  glaffes  ring  : 

The  cloth  remov'd,  the  toafts  go  round, 

Bawdy  and  politics  abound  ; 

And  as  the  knight  more  tipfey  waxes, 

We  damn  all  minifters  and  taxes. 

At  lad  the  ruddy  fun  quite  funk, 

The  coachman  tolerably  drunk, 

Whirling  o'er  hillocks,  ruts,  and  ft  ones, 

Enough  todiflocate  one's  bones, 

We  home  return,  a  wond'rous  tokert 

Of  Heaven's  kind  care,  with  limbs  unbroken, 

Afflict  us  not,  ye  gods,  though  finners, 

With  many  days  like  this,  or  dinners ! 

But  if  civilities  thus  teaze  me, 
Nor  bufinefs,  nor  diverfions  pleafe  me  ; 
You'll  afk,  my  Lord,  how  time  I  fpend  ? 
I  atifwer,  with  a  book  or  friend  : 
The  circulating  hours  dividing 
'Twist  reading,  walking,  eating,  riding: 
But  books  are  ftill  my  higheft  joy, 
Thefe  earlieft  pleafe,  and  lateft  cloy. 
Sometimes  o'er  diftant  climes  I  ftray, 
By  guides  experienc'd  taught  the  way  ; 
The  wonders  of  each  region  view, 
From  frozen  Lapland  to  Peru; 
Bound  o'er  rough  feas,  and  mountains  bare, 
Yet  ne'er  forfake  my  elbow  chair. 
Sometimes  fome  fam'd  hiftorian'spen 
Recals  pad  ages  back  agen  ; 
Where  all  I  fee,  through  ev'ry  page, 
Is  but  how  men,  with  fenfelefs  rage, 
Each  other  rob,  deftroy,  and  burn, 
To  ferve  a  prieft's,  a  ttatefman's  turn; 
Though  loaded  with  a  diff'rent  aim, 
Yet  always  affes  much  the  fame. 
Sometimes  I  view  with.much  delight, 
Divines  their  holy  game-cocks  fight; 
Here  faith  and  works  at  variance  fet, 
Strive  hard  who  mall  the  vicVry  get ; 
Prefbytery  and  Epifcopacy 
They  fight  fo  long,  it  would  amaze  ye; 

Here  free-will  holds  a  fierce  difpute 

With  reprobation  abfolute ; 

There  fenfe  kick*  tranfubftantiation> 

And  reafon  pecks  at  revelation. 

With  learned  Newton  now  I  fly 

O'er  all  the  rolling  orbs  on  high, 

Vifit  new  worlds,  and  for  a  minute 

This  old  one  fcorn,  and  all'that's  in  it ; 

And  now  with  lab'ring  Boyle  I  trace 

Nature  through  ev'ry  winding  maze  ; 

The  latent  qualities  admire 

Of  vapours,  water,  air,  and  fire; 

With  pleafing  admiration  fee 

Matter's  furprifing  fubtlety  ; 

As  how  the  fmalleft  lamp  difplays, 

For  miles  around,  its  fcatter'd  rays  ; 

Or  how  (the  cafe  ftill  more  t'  explain) 

A  *  fart,  that  weighs  not  half  a  grain, 

The  atmofphere  will  oft  perfume 

Of  a  whole  fpacious  drawing-room. 

*  See  Boyle' 4  Experiments, 


POEMS. 


557 


Sometimes  I  pafs  a  whole  long  day 
In  happy  indolence  away, 
In  fondly  meditating  o'er 
Part  pleafures,  and  in  hoping  more ; 
Or  wander  through  the  fields  and  woods, 
And  gardens  bath'd  in  circling  floods; 
There  blooming  flowers  with  rapture  view, 
And  fparkling  gems  of  morning  dew, 
Whence  in  my  mind  ideas  rife 
Of  Caelia's  cheeks,  and  Chloe's  eyes. 

'Tis  thus  my  lord,  I  free  from  (trife 
Spend  an  inglorious  country  life  ; 
'1'hefe  are  the  joys  I  ftill  purfue, 
When  abfent  from  the  town  and  you ; 
Thus  pafs  long  fummer  funs  away, 
Bufily  idle,  calmly  gay  : 
Nor  great,  nor  mean,  nor  rich,  nor  poor, 
Not  having  much,  nor  wifhing  more  ; 
Except  that  you,  when  weary  grown 
Of  all  the  follies  of  the  town, 
And  feeing  in  all  public  places 
TheTHHie  vain  fops  and  painted  faces, 
Would  fometimes  kindly  condefcend 
To  vifit  a  dull  country  friend  : 
Here  you'll  be  ever  fure  to  meet 
A  hearty  welcome,  though  no  treat ; 
One  who  has  nothing  elfe  to  do, 
But  to  divert  himfelf  and  you ; 
A  houfe,  where  quiet  guards  the  door, 
No  rural  wits  fmoak,  drink,  and  roar; 
Choice  books,  fafe  hoYfes,  wholtfome  liquor, 
Clean  girls,  backgammon,  and  the  vicar. 

AN  ESSAY  ON  VIRTUE. 

"  Atque  ipfa  utilitas  juftiprope  mater  et  «qui.'' 

HuR. 

To  tbe  Hen.  Philip  Torke,  Efq.  * 

THOU,  whom  nor  honours,  wealth,  ner  youth  can 

fpoil 

With  the  leaft  vice  of  each  luxuriant  foil, 
Say,  Yorke,  (_for  fure,  if  any,  thou  can'll  tell) 
What  Virtue  is,  who  pradtife  it  fo  well; 
Say,  where  inhabits  this  fultana  queen  ; 
Prais'd  and  ador'd  by  all,  but  rarely  fecn  : 
By  what  fure  mark  her  eflence  can  we  trace, 
When  each  religion,  faclion,  age,  and  place 
Sets  up  fome  faiicy'd  idol  of  its  own, 
A  vain  pretender  to  her  facred  throne  ? 
In  man  too  oft  a  well  diflembled  part, 
A  felf-denying  pride  in  woman's  heart; 
In  fynods  f|ith,  and  in  the  fields  of  fame 
Valour  ufurps  her  honours,  and  her  name. 
Whoe'er  their  fenfe  of  Virtue  would  exprefs, 
Tis  ftill  by  fomething  they  themfelves  poffefs. 
Hence  youth  good-humour,  frugal  craft  old-age, 
Warm  politicians  term  it  party-rage, 
True  churchmen  zeal  right  orthodox ;  and  hence 
Fools  think  it  gravity,  and  wits  pretence; 
To  conftancy  alone  fond  lovers  join  it, 
And  maids  unafk'd  to  chaftity  confine  it. 

But  have  we  then  no  law  befidrs  our  will  ? 
NO  juit  criterion  fix'd  to  good  and  ill  ? 

*  Now  Earl  ofHardivicke. 
J 


As  well  at  noon  we  may  obftrucl  our  fight, 
Then  doubt  if  fuch  a  thing  exifts  as  light; 
For  no  lefs  plain  would  nature's  law  appear 
As  the  meridian  fun  unchang'd,  and  clear, 
Would  we  but  learch  for  what  we  were  defign'd. 
And  for  what  end  th'  Almighty  form'd  mankind  ; 
A  rule  of  life  we  then  ihould  plainly  fee, 
For  to  purfue  that  end  mud  Virtue  be. 

Then  what  is  that?  Not  want  of  power,  or 

fame, 

Or  worlds  unnumber'd  to  applaud  his  name, 
But  a  deiire  his  bleflings  to  diffufe, 
And  fear  left  millions  fliould  exiftence  lofe ; 
His  geodnefs  only  could  his  power  employ, 
And  an  eternal  warmth  to  propagate  his  joy. 
Hence   foul   and  fenfe  diffus'd   through  ev'rj 

place, 

Make  happinefs  as  infinite  as  fpace  ; 
Thoufancls  of  funs  beyond  each  other  blaze, 
Orbs  roll  o'er  orbs,  and  glow  with  mutual  rays; 
Each  is  a  world,  where,  form'd  with  wond'rou* 

art, 

Unnumber'd  fpecies  live  through  ev'ry  part : 
In  ev'ry  tracl  of  ocean,  earth,  and  flues, 
Myriads  of  creatures  ftili  lucccffive  rife  : 
Scarce  buds  a  leaf,  or  fprings  the  vileft  weed, 
But  little  flocks  upon  its  verdure  feed  : 
No  fruit  cur  palate  courts,  or  flow'r  our  fmell,    - 
But  on  its  fragrant  boforn  nations  dwell, 
All  lorni'd  uith  proper  faculties  to  fhare 
The  daily  bounties  of  their  Maker's  care  : 
The  great  Creator  from  his  lieav'nly  throne 
Pleas'd  on  the  wide-expanded  joy  looks  do\vn, 
And  bis  eternal  law  is  only  this, 
That  all  contribute  to  the  general  blifs. 

Nature  fo  plain 'this  primal  law  difplays, 
Each  living  creature  fees  it,  and  obeys; 
Each,  formM  for  all,  promotes  thiough  private 

care 

The  public  good,  and  juftly  takes  its  fhare. 
All  underftand  their  great  Creator's  will, 
Strive  to  be  happy,  ajid  in  that  fulfil; 
Mankind  excepted,  lord  of  all  befide, 
But  only  flave  to  folly,  vice  and  pride  ; 
'  Tis  he  that's  deaf  to  this  command  alone, 
Delights  in  other's  woe,  and  courts  his  own  ; 
Racks  and  deftroys  with  tort'ring  fteel  and  flame, 
For  luxury  brutes,  and  man  himfelf  for  fame; 
Sets  fuperftition  high  on  virtue's  throne, 
Then  thinks  his  Maker's  temper  like  his  own  : 
Hence  are  his  altars  ftain'd  with  reeking  gore, 
As  if  he  couid  atone  for  crimes  by  more  : 
Hence  whilft  offended  Heav'n  he  ftrives  in  vain 
T'  appeafe  by  fafts  and  voluntary  pain, 
Ev'n  in  repenting  he  provokes  again. 

How  ealy  is  our  yoke  \  how  light  our  load  \ 
Did  we  not  ftrive  to  mend  the  laws  of  God  : 
For  his  own  fake  no  duty  he  can  afk> 
The  common  welfare  is  our  only  tafk  : 
For  this  fole  end  his  precepts,  kind  as  juft, 
Forbid  intemperance,  murder,  theft,  and  lull, 
With  ev'ry  adt  injurious  to  our  own 
Or  others  good,  for  fuch  are  crimes  alone  : 
For  this  are  peace,  love,  charity  enjoin'd, 
With  all  that  can  fecure  and  blefs  mankind. 
Thus  is  the  public  fafety  virtue's  caufe, 
And  happinefs  the  end  of  all  her  laws ; 
3  »•  »J 


99* 

For  farh  by  nature  is  the  human  frame, 

Our  diity  ard  our  <w- <*..':  are  the  fame. 

"  But  hold,"  c:it-s  out  fome  Puritan  divine, 
\Vhoie  welUlluff'd  cheeks  with  eafe  aiul  plenty 

(hine, 

"  Is  this  to  faft,  to  mortify,  refrain  ? 
"  And  work  falvatidn  out  with  fear  and  pain ."' 
We  own  the  rigid  leflbns  of  their  fchools 
Are  widely  different  from  thefe  eafy  rules: 
Virtue,  with  them,  is  only  to  abfbiin 
From  all  that  nature  afks,  and  covet  pain  ; 
Pleafure  and  vice  are  ever  near  a-kin, 
.And,  if  we  thirft,  cold  water  is  a  fin  : 
Heaven's  path  is  rough  and  intricate,  they  fay, 
Yet  all  are  damn'd  that  trip,  or  rails  their  way  ; 
God  is  a  Being  cruel  and  fevere, 
And  man  a  wretch  by  his  command  plac'd  here, 
In  fun-mine  for  a  while  to  take  a  turn, 
Only  to  dry  and  rr,ake  him  fit  to  burn. 

Miftaken  men,  too  pioufly  fevere  ! 
Through  crafi  mifleadinjf,  or  mified  by  fear; 
How  little  they  God's  tounfels  comprehend, 
Our  untverfal  patent,  guardian,  friend  ! 
Who,  forming  by  degrees  to  blefs  mankind, 
This  globe  our  fportive  nurtery  affign'cl, 
Where  for  a  while  his  fond  paterruil  care 
Feafts  us  with  ev'ry  joy  our  ftate  can  bear  : 
£ach  fenfe,  touch,  tafte,  and  fmell  dilpenfe  de 
light, 

Mufic  our  hearing,  beauty  charms  our  fight ; 
Trees,  herbs,  and  rlow'rs  to  us  their  fpoils  reGgn, 
Its  pearl  the  rock  prefents,  its  gold  the  mine  ; 
JBeafts,  fowl,  and  fifh  their  daily  tribute  give 
Of  food  and  clothes,  and  die  that  we  may  live  : 
Seafons  but  change,  new  pleafuresto  produce, 
And  elements  contend  to  ferve  our  ufe  : 
love's  gentle  fliafts,  ambition's  tow'ring  wings, 
.The    pomps   of    fenates,  churches,    courts,    and 

kings, 

All  that  our  rev'rence,  joy,  or  hope  create, 
Are  the  gay  play-things  of  this  infant  ftate. 
Scarcely  an  ill  to  human  life  btlo'.p, 
Tut  what  our  follies  canfe,  or  mutual  wrongs ; 
Or  if  fome  (tripes  from  providence  we  feel, 
He  itrikes  with  pity,  and  but  wounds  to  heal ; 
Kindly  perhaps  Jometimes  afflicls  us  here, 
To  guide  our  views  to  a  fublimer  fphere, 
In  more  exalted  joys  to  fix  our  taite, 
And  wean  us  from  delights  that  cannot  lalt. 
Our  >-efent  good  the  eaty  tafk  is  made, 
To  earn  fuperior  blip's,  when  this  (hall  fade  ; 
•For,  foon  as  e'er  thefe  mortal  pleafures  cloy, 
His  hand  (hall  lead  us  to  fublimer  joy  ; 
Snatch  us  from  all  cur  little  forrows  here, 
Calm  cv'ry  grief,  and  dry  each  childiih  tear; 
Waft  us  to  regions  of  eternal  peace, 
Where  blifs  and  virtue  grow  with  like  increafe  ; 
From  (trengih  to  urer^th  our  fouls  forever  guide 
Through  wonci'rous  fcenes  of  being  yet  untry'd, 
Where  in  each  Irage  we  (hall  more  perfecl  grow, 
Anu  new  perfections,  new  delights  beftow. 

Oh  !  would  mankind  but  make   thefe    truths 

their  guide, 

And  force  the  helm  from  prejudice  and  pride  ; 
Were  once  thefe  maxims  fix'd,   that  God's  our 

friend, 
Virtue  our  good,  and  happinefs  our  end, 


OF   JENYNS. 

How  foon  muft  reafon  o'er  the  world  prevail, 

And  error,  fraud,  and  iuperftirion  fail ! 

None  would  hertatter  then  with  groundlefs  fear 

Defcnbe  th*  Almighty  cruel  and  fevere, 

Predeftinating  fome  without  pretence 

To  Heav'i),  and  fome  to  hell  for  no  offence; 

Inflicting  endlefs  pains  for  tranlient  crimes, 

Aiid  favouring  feels  or  nation?,  men  or  times. 

To  pleale  him  none  would  foolilhly  forbear 

Or  food,  or  rell,  or  itch  in  (him  of  hair, 

Or  deem  it  merit  to  believe  or  teach 

What  reafon  contradicts,  or  cannot  reach  *  ; 

None  would  fierce  zeal  for  piety  miftake, 

Or  malice  for  whatever  tenets  lake, 

Or  think  falvation  to  one  feo^  confin'd, 

And  heaven  too  narrow  to  contain  mankind. 

No  more  then  nymphs,  by  long  neglect  gro 

nice, 

Would  in  one  female  frailty  fum  up  vice, 
And  cenfure  thofe,  who,  nearer  to  the  right, 
Think  virtue  is  but  to  dil'penfe  delight  f. 

No  fervile  tenets  would  admittance  find, 
Deltructive  of  the  rights  of  human  kind  ; 
Of  power  divine,  hereditary  right, 
And  non-refi.'tance  to  a  tyrant's  might: 
For  Hire  that  all  (liouid  thus  for  one  be  curs'd, 
Is  but  great  nature's  edict  juft  reversed. 

No  moraiifts  then,  righteous  to  excefs, 
Would  (how  fair  virtue  in  fo  black  a  drefs, 
That  they,  like  boys,  who  fome   feign'd  fpright 

array, 

Firjt  from  the  fpectre  fly  themfelves  away  : 
No  preachers  in  the  terrible  delight, 
But  chc.ofe  to  win  by  reafon,  not  atlright ; 
Not,  conjurers  like,  in  fire  and  brimftone  dwell, 
And  draw  each  moving  argument  from  hell. 

No  more  our  fage  interpreters  of  laws 
Would  fatten  on  obfcurities  and  flaws, 
But  rather,  nobly  careful  of  their  truit, 
Strive  to  wipe  off  the  long  contracted  duft. 
And  be,  like  Hardwicke,  guardians  of  the  juft. 

No  more  appliiufe  would  on  ambition 'wait, 
And  laying  walte  the  world'be  counted  great, 
But  one  good-natur'd  acl  more  praifes  gain 
Than  armies  overthrown,  and  thoufands  (lain ; 
No  more  would  brutal  rage  difturb  our  peace 
But  envy,  hatred,  war,  and  difcord  ceafe  ; 
Our  own  and  others  good  each  hour  employ, 
And  all  things  fmile  with  univerfal  joy  ; 
Virtue  with  happinefs  her  confort  join'd, 
Would  regulate  and  blefs  each  human  mind, 
And  man  be  what  his  Maker  firft  defign'd. 

THE  MODERN  FINE  GENTLEMAN. 

WRITTEN  IN  THE  TEAR   lj^6. 

"  Q_uale  portentum  neque  militaris 
"  Daunia  in  latis  alit  efculetis, 
"  'Nee  Jubse  tellus  generat,  leonum 
*'  Anda  nutrix." 

JUST  broke  from  fchool,  pert,  impudent,  and  raw, 
Expert  in  Latin,  more  expert  in  taw, 


*  It  is  apprehended,  that  genuine  Cbrfftianit 
requires  not  the  belief  of  any  fucb  prtpo/itions. 

f  Thefe  lines  mean  only,  that  cenforioiifnefs 
a  vice  more  odious  than  unchaflity ;  this 


P    O    E    M    S. 


His  honour  ports  o'er  Italy  and  France, 
Meiil'ure^  St.  Pi-tci's  do:i:e,  HUG  l<    ,    s  to  dance. 
Thence,   having  quick  through  v.inous  countries 

flown, 

Glean'd  nil  their  follies  and  expos  '<!  hi*  own, 
He  back  returr>:>,  a  thing  Ib  lira,-. .re  ,1.1  o'er, 
As  never  ages  paft  procluc'd  before:  ; 
A  mjiifter  of  fu.  h  complicated  w.  nh, 
As  no  one  finale  clinae  could  e'er  bring  forth  ; 
Half  atheift.  pajjiit,  gamelter,  bubble,  rook. 
Half  tiddler,  coacKma...  dancer,  groom,  and  cook. 

Next,  becaute  bufinefs  is  now  all  the  vogue, 
And  who'd  be  quite  polite  mull  be  a  rogue, 
In  parliament  he  purchases  a  feat, 
To  make  th'  accompiiih'd  gentleman  complete. 
There  fafe  in  felf-fufficient  i:npu«.L-nce, 
Without  experience,  honeity,  or  feme, 
Unknowing  in  her  int'reft,  trade,  or  laws, 
He  vainly  ur.dertaties  his  country's  caufe: 
Forth  rrom  his  lips,  prepar'd  at  all  to  rail, 
Torrents  of  nonlenle  burlt,  like  bottled  ale, 
*  Though  mallow,  muudy;  bnfk,  though  mighty 

dull; 
Fierce  without    (Irength ;    o'erflowing,    though 

not  full. 

Now  quite  a  Frenchman  in  his  garb  and  iir, 
His  neck  yok'd  down  witn  bag  and  folitaire, 
The  liberties  of  Britain  he  fupports, 
And  itorms  at  place  men,  minifters,  and  courts; 
Now  in  cropt  greafy  iiair,  and  leather  breeches, 
He  loudly  bellows  out  his  patriot  fpeeches;- 
King,  lords,  and  commons  ventures  to  abufe, 
Yet  dares  to  fliow  thole  ears  he  ought  to  iofe. 
From  hence  to  White's  our  virtuous  Cato  flies. 
There  fits  with  countenance  erect  and 
And  talks  of  games  of  whift,  and  pig 
Plays  ail  the  night,  nor  doubts  each  law  to  break, 
Himfelf  unknowingly  has  help'd  to  make  ; 
Trembling  and  anxious,  ftakcs  his  utmoft  groat, 
Peeps  o'er  his  cards,  and  looks  as  if  he  thought; 
Next  morn  difowns  the  loffes  of  the  night, 
Becaul'e  the  fool  would  fain  be  thought  a  bite. 

Devoted  thus  to  politics  and  cards. 
Nor  mirth,  nor  wine,  nor  women,  he  regards; 
So  far  is  ev'ry  virtue  from  his  heart, 
That  not  a  gen'rous  vice  can  claim  a  part; 
Nay,  left  one  human  paflion  e'er  fhould  move 
His  foul  to  friendihip,  tendernefs,  or  love, 
To-Figg  and  Broughton  *  he  commits  his  breafr, 
To  fteel  it  to  the  falhionable  left- 

Thus  poor  in  wealth,  hs  labours  to  no  end, 
Wretched  alone,  in  crowds  without  a  friend; 
Inieniible  to  all  that's  good  or  kind, 
Deaf  to  ah  merit,  to  all  beauty  blind  ; 
For  love  too  bufy,  and  for  wit  too  grave, 
A  harUen'd,lbber,  proud,  luxurious  knave; 


ilL     IU    1U1V* 

Cato  flies,  } 
id  wife,  > 
j-tail  pies; J 


proceeding  from  malevolence,  that  fotnetlrncs  from 
too  much  good- nature  and  compliance. 

*  Parody   on  tbefe  lines  of  Sir   John  Den- 
bam. 

."  Though  deep  yet  clear,  though  gentle  yet  not 

"  dull, 
V  Strong  without  rage,  without  o'erflowing  full." 

*  One,  a  celebrated  prize-fighter ;  t  be  other,  a 
?:o  lefs/amius  btxer. 


By  little  actions  driving  to  be  great, 

And  proud  to  be,  and  to  be  thought  a  cheat. 

And  yet  in  this  Ib  bad  is  his  fuccefs. 
That  as  his  fame  improves,  his  rents  grow  lefs; 
On  mrclimsnt  wings  his  acres  take  their  flight, 
And  his  iiii  Copied  groves  admit  the  light; 
VVith  his  eitate  iiis  int  reft  too  is  done, 
His  honeft  borough  feeks  a  warmer  fun  : 
For  him,  now  catii  and  liquor  flows  no  more, 
H.s  independent  vott-rs  i  eale  to  roar; 
And  Britain  foon  mini  want  the  great  defence 
Of  all  his  honefty  and  eloquence, 
But    that    the  gen'rous    youth,   more  anxious"} 
grown  / 

For  public  liberty  than  for  his  own,  t~ 

Marries  fome  jointur'd  antiquated  crone  ;          J 
And  boldly,  when  his  country  is  at  (take, 
Braves  the   deep  yawning  gulf,  like  Curtius,  for 

its  fake. 

Quickly  ;igam  difrrefs'd  for  want  of  coin, 
He  digs  no  longer  in  th'  exhaufted  mine, 
Bat  feeks  preferment,  as  the  laft  refort, 
Cringes  each  morn  at  levees,  bows  at  court. 
And,  from  the  ha;;rl  he  hates,  unpiores  support., 
fhe  minilter,  well  p.eas'd  at  tin  ill  expence 
i'o  -.iience  fouuich  rude  impertinence, 
'•Vith  fqueeze  and  whifper  yields  to  his  demands, 
And  on  tne  venal  hit  enroll'd  he  ttands; 
A  ribband  and  aponfion  buy  ihe  (lave: 
This  bribes  the  fool  aoout  him  ;  that  the  knave. 
And  now  arriv'd  at  his  meridian  glory. 
He  finks  apace,  defpis'd  by  Whig  and  Tary  ; 
Of  independence  now  he  talks  no  more, 
Nor  (hakes  the  fenate  with  his  patriot  roar; 
But  filent  votes,  and  with  court-trappings  hung, 
Eyes  his  own  glitt'ring  (tar  and  holds  bis  tongue. 
In  craft  political  a  bankrupt  made, 
He  iticks  to  gaming,  as  the  furer  trade  ; 
Turns  downright  (harper,  lives  by  fucking  blood, 
And  grows,  in  (liort,  the  very  thing  he  would:  f 
Hunts  out  young  heirs  who  have  their  fortunes 

fpent, 

And  lends  them  ready  cafli  at  cent,  per  cent. 
La.jS  wagers  on  his  own,  and  others  lives. 
Fights  uncles,  fathers,  grandmothers,  and  wives; 
Fill  death  at  length,  indignant  to  be  made 
The  daily  fubjecl:  of  his  ("port  and  trade, 
Veils  with  his  fable  hand  the  wretch's  eyes, 
And,  groaning  for  the  betts  he  lofes  by't,  he  dies. 

THE  MODERN  FINE  LA.DY. 


"  Intenuta  nif.es.' 


-"  Miferi  quibus 


HOR. 


WRITTEN  IN  THE  YEAR   T750. 


'D  in  each  art  that  can  adorn  the  fair, 
The  fprightly  dance,  the  foft  Italian  air, 
The  tofb  of  quality  and  high-bred  fleer, 
Now  Lady  Harriot  reach'd  her  fifteenth  year  : 
Wing'd  with  diverfions  all  her  moments  flew. 
Each,  as  it  pafs'd,  prefenting  fomething  new ; 
Breakfa(t  and  auctions  wear  the  morn  away, 
Each  evening  gives  an  opera,  or  a  play  ; 
i'hen  Brad's  eternal  joys  all  night  remain, 
And  kindly  ufli«r  ia  the  morn  again. 


IQCO 

For  love  no  tims  has  (lie,  or  inclination, 
Yet  muft  coquette  it  for  the  fake  of  faihion ; l 
For  this  (lie  liftens  to  each  fop  that's  near, 
Th'  embroider'd  colonel  flatters  with  a  fneer, 
An4  the  cropt  enfign  nuzzles  in  her  ear. 
But  with  moft  warmth  her  drefs  and  airs  infpire 
Th'  ambitious  bofom  of  the  landed  'fquire, 
"Who  fain  would  quit  plump  Dolly's  fofter  charms 
For  wither'd  lean  Right  Honourable  arms ; 
He  bows  with  reverence  at  her  facred  (hrine, 
And  treats  her  as  if  fprung  from  race  divine, 
Which  flie  returns  with  infolence  and  fcorn, 
Nor  deigns  to  fmile  on  a  plebeian  born. 

£re  long  by  friends,  by  cards,  and  lovers  crofs'd, 
Her  fortune,  health,  and  reputation  loft ; 
Her  money  gone,  yet  not  a  tradefman  paid. 
Her  fame,  yet  (he  (till  damn'd  to  be  a  maid  ; 
Her  fpirits  fink,  her  nerves  are  fo  unftrung, 
*  She  weeps,  if  but  a  handfome  thief  is  hung. 
By  mercers,  lacemen,  mantua-makers  preft, 
But  moft  for  ready  carti  for  play  diftreft, 
Where  can  flie  turn  ! — The  'fquire  muft  all  re 
pair, 

She  condefcends  to  liften  to  his  pray'r, 
And  marries  him  at  length  in  mere  defpair. 

But  foon  th'  endearments  of  a  hufband  cloy, 
Her  foul,  her  frame  incapable  of  joy  : 
She  feels  no  tranfports  in  the  bridal  bed, 
Of  which  fo  oft  fli'  has  heard,  fo  much  has  read  ; 
Then  vex'd,  that  (he  fliould  be  condemn'd  alone 
To  feek  in  vain  this  philoibphic  ftone, 
To  abler  tutors  (he  reiblves  t'  apply, 
A  proftitute  from  curiofity  : 
Hence  men  of  ev'ry  fort,  and  ev'ry  fize, 
f  Impatient  for  Heaven's  cordial  drop,  (he  tries  ; 
The  fribbling  beau,  the  rough  unwieldy  clown, 
The  ruddy  templar  newly  on  the  town, 
The  Hibernia.i  captain  of  gigantic  make, 
The  brimful  parfon,  and  th  exhaufted  rake. 

But  dill  malignant  fate  her  wifli  denies, 
Cards  yield  fuperior  joys,  to  cards  fl;e  flies  ; 
All  night  from  rout  to  rout  her  chairman  run, 
Again  flie  plays,  and  is  again  undone. 

Behold  her  now  in  ruin's  frightful  jaws  '. 
Bonds,  judgments,  executions  ope  their  paws  ; 
Seize  jewels,  furniture,  and  plate,  nor  fpare 
The  gilded  chariot,  or  the  tafiel'd  chair ; 
For  lonely  feat  (he's  forc'd  to  quit  the  town, 
And  |  Tubbs  conveys  the  wretched  exile  down. 

Now  rumbling  o'er  the  (tones  of  T> burn-road, 
Ne'er  prefs'd  with  a  more  griev'd  or  guilty  load, 
She  bids  adieu  to  all  the  well-known  ft  reels, 
And  envies  ev'ry  cinder-wench  (he  meets: 
And  now  the  dreaded  country  firft  appears, 
With  fighs  unfeign'd  the  dying  noife  (he  hears 

*  Some  ofthebrlghtcfl  eyei  were  at  tkis  time  in 
tears  for  one  McLean,  condemned  for  a  robbery 
on  the  high-way- 

\  "  The  cordial  drop  TIeav'n  in  our  cup  has 

*'  thrown, 

"  To  make  the  naufeous  draught  of  life  go 
"  down."  Roch. 

)  A  f  erf  on  ivcll  known  for  fvpplying  people  ef 
quality  with  hired  equipages. 


Of  diftant  coaches  fainter  by  degrees, 
Then  (tarts  and  trembles  at  the  fight  of  trees. 
Silent  and  fullen,  like  fome  captive  queen, 
She's  drawn  along  unwilling  to  be  feen, 
Until  at  length  appears  the  ruin'd  hall 
Within  the  grafs  green  moat  and  ivy'd  wail, 
The  doleful  prifon  where  for  ever  (he, 
But  not,  alas  !  her  griefs,  muft  bury'd  be. 

Her  coach  the  curate  and  the  tradefmenmeet,"! 
Great-coated  tenants  her  arrival  greet, 
And  boys  with  ftubble  bonfires  light  the  ftreet,j 
While    bells  her   ears  with  tongues  difcordaut 

grate, 

Types  of  the  nuptial  tyes  they  celebrate  : 
But  no  rejoicings  can  unbend  her  brow, 
Nor  deigns  (he  to  return  one  aukward  bow, 
But  bounces  in,  difdainingonce  to  fpeak, 
And  wipes  the  trickling  tear  from  off  her  cheek. 

Now  fee  her  in 'the  fad  decline  of  life, 
A  peevifli  miftrefs,  and  a  fulky  wife  ; 
Her  nerves  unbrac'd,  her  faded  cheek  grown  pale 
With  many  a  real,  and  many  a  fancy'd  ail ; 
Of  cards,  admirers,  equipage  bereft, 
Her  infolence  and  title  only  left ; 
Severely  humbled  to  her  one-horfe  chair, 
And  the  low  paftimes  of  a  country  fair  : 
Too  wretched  to  endure  one  lonely  day,  } 

Too  proud  one  friendly  vifit  to  repay, 
Too  indolent  to  read,  too  criminal  to  pray,          j 
At  length  half  dead,  half  mad,  and  quite  confin'd, 
Shunning,  and  (hunn'd  by  all  af  human  kind, 
Ev'n  robb'd  of  the  laft  comfort  of  her  life, 
Infulting  the  poor  curate's  callous  wife, 
Pride,  difappointed  pride,  now  flops  her  breath, 
Aad  with  true  fcorpion  rage  flie  ftings  herfelf  to 
death. 


THE 
FIRST  EPISTLE 

OF    THE 

SECOND  BOOK  OF  HORACE, 

IMITATES. 

To  the  Ri?ht  Hon.  Pbilip,  Lord  Hardwicke^  Lord 
High  Chancellor  of  Great  Britain. 

WRITTEN  IN  THE  YEAR  I74§. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  following  piece  is  a  burlefque  imitation:  a 
fpecies  of  poetry,  whofe  chief  excellence  confifts 
in  a  lucky  and  humourous  application  of  the  words 
and  fentiments  of  any  author,  to  a  new  fubjecl 
totally  different  from  the  original.  This  is  what 
is  ufually  forgot  both  by  the  writers  and  readers 
of  thefe  kind  of  compofitions ;  the  firft  of  whom 
are  apt  to  ftrike  out  new  and  independent  thoughts 
of  their  own,  and  the  latter  to  admire  fuch  in 
judicious  excrefcencies :  thefe  immediately  lofe 
fight  of  their  original,  and  thofe  fcarce  ever  caft 
an  eye  towards  him  at  all.  It  is  thought  proper 
therefore  to  advertife  the  reader,  that  in  the  fol 
lowing  epiftle  he  is  to  expect  nothing  more  than_ 


POEM    S. 


ICOl 


an  appofite  converfion  of  the  ferious  fentiments  of 
Horace  on  the  Roman  poetry,  into  more  ludicrous 
ones  on  the  fubjecl:  of  Englifli  politics;  and  if  he 
thinks  it  not  worth  while  to  compare  it  line  for 
line  with  the  original,  he  will  find  in  it  neither 
wit,  humour,  nor  even  common  fenfe ;  all  the 
little  merit  it  can  pretend  to,  confiding  folely  in 
the  clofenefs  of  fo  long,  and  uninterrupted  an 
imitation. 

WHILST  you,  my  Lord,  fuch  various  toils  fuftain, 
Prefide  o'er  Britain's  peers,  her  laws  explain, 
With  cv'ry  virtue  eVry  heart  engage, 
And  live  the  bright  example  of  the  age; 
With  tedious  verfe  to  trefpafs  on  your  time, 
Is  fure  impertinence,  if  not  a  crime. 

All  the  fam'd  heroes,  ftatefmen,  admirals, 
Who  after  death  within  the  facred  walls 
Of  Weftminfter  with  kings  have  been  receiv'd, 
Met  with  but  forry  treatment,  while  they  liv'd  ; 
And  though  they  labour'd  in  their  country  'scaufe, 
With  arms  defended  her,  and  form'd  with  laws, 
Yet  ever  mourn'd  they  till'd  a  barren  foil, 
And  left  the  world  ungrateful  to  their  toil. 
Zv'n  *  he  who  long  the  Houfe  of  Commons  led, 
That  hydra  dire,  with  many  a  gaping  head, 
Found  by  experience  to  his  lateft  breath, 
Envy  could  only  be  fubdu'd  by  death. 
Great  men  whilft  living  muit  expect  difgraces, 
Dead  they're    ador'd — when  .none   defire    their 

places. 

This  common  fate,  my  lord,  attends  not  you, 
Above  all  equal,  and  all  envy'  too ; 
With  fuch  unrivali'd  eminence  you  flnne, 
That  in  this  truth  alone  all  parties  join, 
The  feat  of  juttice  in  no  former  reign 
Was  e'er  ib  greatly  fill'd,  nor  ever  can  again. 
But  though  the  people  are  fo  juft  to  you, 
To  none  befides  will  they  allow  their  due, 
No  minifter  approve,  who  is  not  dead, 
Nor  till  h'  has  loft  it,  o\vn  he  had  a  head; 
Yet  fuch  refpect  they  bear  to  ancient  things, 
They've  fome  for  former  minifters  and  kings  ; 
And,  with  a  kind  of  fuperftitious  awe, 
Deem  Magma  Cbarta  ftill  a  facred  law. 

But  if  becaufe  the  government  was  beft 
Of  old  in  France,  when  freedom  (lie  polleft, 
In  the  fame  fcale  refolv'd  to  weigh  our  own, 
England's  we  judge  was  fo,  who  then  had  none  ; 
Into  mod  ftrange  abfurdities  we  fall, 
Unworthy  to  be  reafon'd  with  at  all. 
Brought  to  perfection  in  thefe  days  we  fee 
All  arts,  and  their  great  parent  liberty  ; 
With  fkill  profound  we  fing,  eat,  drefs,  and  dance 
And  in  each  gout  polite,  excel  ev'n  France, 

If  age  of  minifters  is  then  the  teft, 
And,  as  of  wines,  the  oldeft  are  the  beft, 
Let's  try  and  fix  fome  jera,  if  we  can, 
When  good  ones  were  extinct,  and  bad  began  : 
Are  they  all  wicked  lince  Eliza's  days  ? 
Did  none  in  Charles'  or  James'  merit  praife  ? 
Or  are  they  knaves  but  fince  the  revolution  ? 
If  none  of  thefe  are  facts,  then  all's  confufion  ; 
And  by  the  felf-fame  rule  one  cannot  fail 
To  pluck  each  hair  out  fingly  from  the  tail. 

*  Sir  Robert  Watyolei 


Wife  Cecil,  lov'd  by  people  and  by  prince, 
s  often  broke  his  word  as  any  fince  : 
)f  Arthur's  days  we  almoft  nothing  know, 
Tet  fing  their  praife,  becaufc  they're  long  ago. 

Oft  as  'tis  doubted  in  their  feveral  ways 
Arhich  of  paft  orators  beft  merit  praife, 

find  it  to  decide  extremely  hard, 
f  Harley's  head  deferv'd  the  moft  regard. 
Or  VVindham's  tongue,  or  Ji-kyl's  patriot  heart, 
)ld  Shippen's  gravity,  or  Walpole's  art. 
'hefe  were  ador'd  by  all  with  whom  they  voted, 
And  in  the  fulleft  houfes  ftill  are  quoted  ; 
Thefe   have  been    fam'd   from   Anna's  days  till 

ours, 

Vhen  Pelham  has  improv'd,  with  unknown  povv'rs, 
The  art  of  minifterial  eloquence, 
Jy  adding  honeft  truth  to  nervous  fenfe. 
Oft  are  the  vulgar  wrong,  yet  fometimes  right ; 
The  late  rebellion  in  the  trueft  light 
Jy  chance  they  faw  ;  but  were  not  once  fo  wife, 
Juknown,  unheard,  in  damning  the  excife  : 
.f  former  reigns  they  fancy  had  no  fault, 
'.  think  their  judgment  is  not  worth  a  groat : 
Sut  if  they  frankly  own  their  politics, 
Like  ours,  might  have  tome  blunders,  and  fome 

tricks, 

With  fuch  impartial  fentiments  I  join, 
And  their  opinions  tally  juft  with  mine. 

I  would  by  no  means  church  or  king  deftroy, 
And  yet  the  doctrines  taught  me  when  a  boy 
By  Crab  the  curate,  now  feem  wond'rous  odd, 
That  either  came  immediately  from  God  : 
In  all  the  writings  of  thofe  high-flown  ages,  . 
You  meet  with  now  and  then  fome  fcatter'd  pages 
Wrote  with  fome  fpirit  and  with  fenfe  enough  ; 
Thefe  fell  the  book,  the  reft  is  wretched  fluff: 
I'm  quite  provok'd,  when  principles,  though  true, 
Muft  Hand  impeach'd  by  fools,  becaufe  they're 

new. 

Should  I  but  queftion,  only  for  a  joke, 
If  all  was  flow'rs,  when  pompous  Hanmer  fpoke, 
If  things  went  right,  when  St.  John  trod  the 

ftage, 

How  the  old  Tories  all  would  ftorm  and  rage  I 
They  fhun  conviction,  or  becaufe  a  truth 
Confefs'd  in  age  implies  they  err'd  in  youth ; 
Or  that  they  fcorn  to  learn  of  junior  wits: 
What ! — to  be  taught  by  Lytteltons  and  Pitts. 

.  When  angry  patriots  or  in  profe  or  rhymes 
Extol  the  virtuous  deeds  of  former  times, 
They  only  mean  the  prefent  to  difgrace, 
And  look  with  envious  hate  on  all  in  place: 
But  had  the  patriots  of  thofe  ancient  days 
Play'd  the  fame  game  for  profit,  or  for  praife, 
The  trade,  though  now  fo  flourishing  and  new, 
Had  long  been  ruin'd  and  the  nation  too. 

England,  when  once  of  peace  and  wealth  pofleft, 
Began  to  think  frugality  a  jeft, 
So  grew  polite  ;  hence  all  her  well-bred  heirs 
Gainefters  and  jockeys  turn'd,  and  cricket-play 'rs ; 
Pictures  and  bufts  in  ev'ry  houfe  were  feen  ; 
What  fhould  have   paid   the  butcher,    bought 

Pouflin; 

Now  operas,  now  plays  were  all  the  fafhion, 
Then  whift  became  the  bufinefs  of  the  nation, 
That,  like  a  froward  child,  in  wanton  play 
Now  cries  for  toys,  then  toffes  them  away ; 


I00«  THE    WORKS 

Each  hour  we  chang'd  our  pleafures,  drefs,  and 

diet; 
Thefe  were  the  bleft  effects  of  being  quiet. 

Not  thus  behav'd  the  true  old  Enghfh  Tquire, 
He  fmoak'd  his  pipe  each  morn  by  his  own  fire, 
There  juft.ce  to  difpcnfe  was  ever  willing, 
And  for  his  warrants  pick'd  up  many  a  fhilling: 
To  teach  his  younger  neighbours  always  glad, 
Where  for  their  corn  heft  markets  might  he  had, 
And  from  experienced  age  as  glad  to  learn, 
How  to  defraud  unfeen  the  parfon's  barn. 

But  now  the  world's  quite  alter'd  ;  all  are  bent 
To  leave  their  feats,  and  fly  to  parliament : 
Old  men  and  boys  in  this  alone  agree, 
And  vainly  courting  popularity, 
Ply  their  obftrep'rous  voters  all  night  long 
With  bumpers,  toafts,  and  now  and  then  a  fong  : 
Ev'n  I,  who  fvvear  thefe  follies  I  defpife, 
Than  ftatei'men,  or  their  porters,  tell  more  lies  ; 
And,  for  the  fafhion  fake,   n  fpite  of  nature, 
Commence  fometimes  a  moft  important  creature 
Buly  as  Car — w  rave  for  ink  and  quills, 
And  fluff  my  head  and  pockets  full  oi  bills. 

Few  landmen  go  to  fea  unlefs  they're  preft, 
And  quacks  in  all  profeflions  are  a  jeft ; 
None  dare  to  kill,  except  moft  learn'd  phyficiansj 
Learn'd,  or  unlearnM,  we  all  are  politicians ; 
There's  not  a  foul  but  thinks,  could  he  be  fent, 
H'  has  parts  enough  to  fhine  in  parliament. 

Though  many  ills  this  modern  tafte  produces, 
Yet  ftill,  my  Lord,  'tis  not  without  its  ufes ; 
Thefe  minor  politicians  are  a  kind 
Not  much  to  felfifli  avarice  incl:n'd  ,; 
Do  but  allow  them  with  applaufe  to  fpeak, 
They  little  care,  though  all  their  tenants  break  ; 
They   form   intrigues   with    no    man's   wife    or 

daughter, 

And  live  on  pudden,  chicken-broth,  and  water; 
Fierce  Jacobites,  as  far  as  bluft'ring  words, 
But  loth  in  any  caule  to  draw  their  1'words. 

Were  fmaller  mauers  worthy  of  attention, 
A  thoufand  other  ufes  I  could  mention  ; 
For  mftance,  in  each  monthly  magazine 
Their  effays  and  orations  full  are  feen, 
Anci  magazines  teach  boys  and  girls  to  read, 
And  are  the  canons  of  each  traciefman's  creed  ; 
Apprentices  they  ferve  to  entertain, 
Inftead  of  fmutty  tales,  and  plays  profane  ; 
Inftruct.them  how  their  paflions  to  command, 
And  to  hate  none — but  thole  who  rule  the  land : 
Facts  they  record,  births,  marriages,  and  deaths, 
Sometimes  receipts  for  claps,  and  itinking  breaths. 
When  with  her  brothers  mils  comes  up  to  town, 
How  for  each  piay  can  the  afford  a  crown  ; 
Where  find  diveriions  gratis,  and  yet  pretty, 
Unlefs  fhe  goes  to  church,  or  a  committee ; 
And  fure  committees  better  entertain, 
Than  hearing  a  dull  paribn  pray  for  rain, 
Or  whining  beg  deliverance  from  battle, 
Dangers,  and  fins,  and  licknefs  amorigft  cattle  ; 
At  church  the  hears  with  unattentive  ear 
The  pray'rs  for  peace,  and  for  a  plenteous  year, 
But  here  quite  charm'd  with  fo  much  wit  and 

feme, 

She  falls  a  victim  foon  to  eloquence : 
Well  may  Ihe  fall;   linct  eloquence  has  power 
To  govern  both  the  Upper  Houfe  and  Lower. 


OF  JENYNS. 

Our  ancient  gentry1,  frugal,  bold,  and  rough, 
Were  farmers,  yet  liv'd  happily  enough ; 
They,  when  in  barns  their  corn  was  fafely  laid, 
For  harveft-homes,  great  entertainments  made, 
The  well-rubb'd  tables  crack 'd  with  beef  ami  pork. 
And  all  the  fupper  fhar'd  who  fhar'd  the  work : 
This  gave  freeholders  firft  a  tafte  lor  eating, 
And  was  the  fource  of  all  election-treating ; 
A  while  their  jells,  though  merry,  yet  were  wife. 
And  they  took  none  but  decent  liberties. 
Brandy  and  punch  at  length  fuch  riots  bred, 
No  fober  family  cou'd  fleep  in  bed  . 
All  were  alarm'd,  ev'n  thofe  who  had  no  hurt 
Call'd  in  the  law,  to  flop  fuch  dang'rous  fport. 
Rich  citizens  at  length  new  arts  brought  down 
With  ready  cafh,  to  win  each  country  town  ; 
This  lefs  diforders  caus'd  than  do'<  nright  drink, 
Freemen  grew  civil,  and  began  to  think; 
But  ftill  ail  canvafling  produc'd  confufion, 
i'he  relicts  of  its  ruftic  inftitution 

'  1'is  but  of  late  fince  thirty  years  of  peace 
To  ufcful  fciences  have  giv'n  increafe, 
That  w'  have  inquir'd  how  Rome's  loft  fons  of  old 
Barter'd  their  liberties  for  feafts  and  gold; 
What  treats  proud  Sylla,  Cstfar,  Craffus  gave, 
And  try 'd,  like  them,  to  buy  each  hungry  knave: 
Nor  try'd  in  vain  ;  too  fortunately  bold, 
Aiany  have  purchas'd  votes,  and  many  fold; 
No  laws  can  now  amend  this  venal  land, 
That  dreads  the  t6uch  of  a  reforming  hand. 

Some  think  an  int'reft  may  Le  form'd  with  eafe, 
Becaufe  the  vulgar  wt  muft  chiefly  pleafe  ; 
But  for  that  reafon  'tis  tlie  harder  talk, 
For  fuch  will  neither  pardon,  grant,  nor  aflc. 

See  how  Sir  W — ,  matter  of  this  art, 

By  different,  methods  wins  each  C n  heart. 

fie  tells  raw  youths,  that  whoring  is'uo  harm, 
And  teaches  their  attentive  fires  to  farm  ; 
To  his  own  table  lovingly  invites 
Infidious  pimps,  and  hungry  pai  afites : 
Sometimes  in  flippers,  and  a  morning  gown, 
He  pays  his  early  vifits  round  a  town, 
At  every  houfe  relates  his  ftories  over, 
Of  place-bills,  taxes,  turnips,  and  Hanover; 
If  tales  will  money  lave,  and  bulmefy  do, 
It  matters  little,  are  they  falfe  or  true. 

Whoe'er  prefers  a  clam'rous  mob's  applaufe, 
To  his  own  confcience,  or  his  country's  caufe, 
Is  foon  elat'd,  and  as  foon  caft  down 
By  every  drunken  cooler's  fmile  or  frown  ; 
So  fmall  a  matter  can  deprefs  or  raife 
A  mind  that's  meanly  covetous  of  praife  i 
But  if  my  quiet  muft  dependent  be 
On  the  vain  breath  of  popularity, 
A^wind  each  hour  to  diff'rent  quarters  veering, 
Adieu,  fay  I,  to  all  electioneering. 
The  boldeft  orator  it  difconcerts, 
To  find  the  many,  though  of  meaneft  parts, 
Illit'rate,  fquabbling,  difcontented  prigs, 
Fitter  t'  attend  a  boxing-match  at  Figg's, 
To  all  good  fenfe  and  reafon  fhut  their  ears, 
Yet  take  delight  in  S— d — m's  bulls  and  bears. 
Young  knights  now  fent  from  many  a  diftaiit 

{hire 

Are  better  pleas'd  with  what  they  fee  than  hear ; 
Their  joy's  to  view  his  majefty  approach, 
Drawn  by  eight  milkwhite  fteeds  in  gilded  coach, 
The  pageant  fhow  and  buftie  to  behold,       [g°ld, 
The  guards,  both  horfe  and  foot,  lac'd  o'er  with 


POEMS. 


lacj 


The  rich  infignia  from  the  Tovrcr  brought  down, 
The  iv'ry  fceptre,  and  the  radiant  crown. 
The  mob  huzza,  the  thund'ring  cannons  roar, 
And  bufinefs  is  delay'd  at  leaft  an  hour  ; 
The  Speaker  calls  indeed  to  mind  what  pafies, 
But  might  as  well  read  orders  to  deaf  affes. 

But  now  fee  honcft  V rife  to  joke  ! 

The  Houfe  all  laugh :  "  What  lays  he  ?  Has  he 

•   fpoke  ?'* 

No  not  a  word  ;  then  whence  this  fudden  mirth  ? 
His  phiz  foretels  fome  jeft's  approaching  birth. 

But  left  I  feem  thefe  orators  to  wrong, 
Envious  becaufe  I  fhare  no  gift  of  tongue, 
Is  there  a  mail  whofe  eloquence  has  pow'r 
To  clear  the  fulleil  houfe  in  half  an  hour, 
Who  now  appears  to  rave,  and  now  to  weep, 
Who  fometimes  makes   us  fwear,  and  fometirnes 

fleep, 

Now  fills  our  heads  with  falfe  alarms  from  France, 
Then  conjurer-like,  to  India  bids  us  dance, 
All  eulogies  on  him  we  own  are  true, 
For  furely  he  does  all  that  man  can  do. 

But  whilft,  my  Lord,  thefc  makers  of  our  lavvs 
Thus  fpeak  themfelves  into  the  world's  applaufe, 
Let  bards  for  fuch  attempts  too  modeft (hare 
What  more  they  prize,  your  patronage  and  care, 
If  you  would  fpur  them  up  the  Mules'  hill, 
Or  aik  their  aid  your  library  to  fill. 
We  poets  are  in  ev'ry  age  and  nation, 
A  moft  abfurd,  wrong-headed  generation  }  • 

This  in  a  thoufand  inftances  is  fhown 
(Myfelf  as  guilty  as  the  reft  I  own) ; 
As  when  on  you  our  nonfenfe  we  impofe, 
Tir'd  with  the  nonfenfe  you  have  heard  in  profe  ; 
When  w'  are  offended,  if  fome  honeft  friend 
Prefumes  one  unharmbnious  verfe  to  mend  ; 
When  undefir'd  our  labours  we  repeat, 
Grieve  they're  no  more  regarded  by  the  great, 
And  fancy,  fhou'd  you  once  but  fee  our  faces, 
You'd  bid  us  write,  and  pay  Us  all  with  places. 

"Tis  yours,  my  Lord,  to  form  the  foul  to  verfc, 
"Who  have  fuch' num'rous  virtues  to  rehearfc; 
Great  Alexander  once,  in  ancient  days, 
Pay'd  Chccrilus  for  daubing  him  with  praife; 
And  yet  the  fame  fam'd  hero  made  a  law, 
None  but  Apelles  fliou'd  his  pic-lure  draw  ; 
None  but  Lyfippus  caft  his  royal  head 
In  brafs :  it  had  been  treafon  if  in  lead  : 
A  prince  lie  was  in  valour  ne'er  furpafs'd, 
And  had  in  painting  too  perhaps  fome  tafte ; 
But  as  to  verfc,  undoubted  is  the  matter, 
He  muft  be  dull,  as  a  Dutch  commentator. 
But  you,  my  Lord,  a  fav'rite  of  the  Mufe, 
Wou'd  choofe  good  poets,   were  there  good   to 

choofe, 

You  know  they  paint  the  great  man's  foul  as  like, 
As  can  his  features  Kneller  or  Vandyke. 
Had  I  fuch  pow'r,  I  never  wou'd  compofe 
Such  creeping  lines  as  thefs,  nor  verfe,  nor  profe ; 
But  rather  try  to  celebrate  your  praife, 
And  with  your  juft  encomiums  fwell  my  lays: 
Had  1  a  genius  equal  to  my  will, 
Gladly  would  I  exert  my  utmoft  (kill 
To  confecratc  to  fame  Britannia's  land 
Receiving  law  from  your  impartial  hand ; 
By  your  wife  councils  once  more  powerful  made, 
Her  fleets  revei'd,  and  flouriihing  her  trade ; 


Exhaufted  nations  trembling  at  her  fword, 

And  peace*,  long  wifh'd-for,  to  the  world  reftor'd. 

But  your  true  greatnefs  fufTers  no  fuch  praife, 
My  verfc  would  link  the  theme  it  meant  to  raife ; 
Unequal  to  this  tafk  wou'd  furely  meet 
Deferv'd  contempt,  and  each  prefumptuous  (beet 
Could  ferve  for  nothing,  fcrawi'd  with  lines  fa 

fnnple, 
Unkfs  to  wrap  up  fugar-loaves  for  Wimple  f. 

TO  THE  RIGHT    HONOURABLE 

THE  EARL  OF  CHESTERFIELD, 

ON    HIS    BEING    INSTALLED  KNIGHT    Or    THE 
GARTER  \. 

THESE  trophies,  Stanhope,  of  a  lovely  dame, 
Once  the  bright  object  of  a  monarch's  flame, 
Who  with  fuch  jutt  propriety  can  wear, 
As  thou,  the  darling  of  the  gay  and  fair  ? 
See  ev'ry  friend  to  wif,  politenefs,  love, 
With  one  confent  thy  ibvereign's  choice  approve ! 
And  liv'd  Plantagenet  her  voice  to  join, 
Herfelf  and  garter  both  were  furely  thine. 

Tt>  A  LADY  IN  TOWN. 

SOON  AFTER  HER  LEAVING  THE  COUNTRY. 

WHILST  you,  dear  maid,  o'er  thoufands  born  t» 

reign, 

For  the  gay  town  exchange  the  rural  plain, 
The  cooling  breeze  and  cv'ning  walk  forfake 
For  ftrfling  crowds,    which  your  own   beautie* 

make ; 

Through  circling  joys  while  you  incefTant  ftray, 
Charm  in  the  Mall,  and  fparkle  at  the  play ; 
Think  (if  fucceSve  vanities  can  fpare 
One  thought  to  lovs)  what  cruel  pangs  I  bear, 
Left  in  thefe  plains  all  wretched,  and  alone, 
To  weep  with  fountains,  and  with  echoes  groan, 
And  mourn  incefiantly  that  fatal  day, 
That  all  my  blifs  with  Chloe  foatch'd  away. 

Say  by  what  arts  I  can  relieve  my  pain, 
Mufic,  verfe,  all  I  try,  but  try  in  vain ; 
In  vain  the  breathing  flute  my  hand  employs, 
Late  the  companion  of  my  Chloe's  voice, 
Nor  Handel's  nor  Corelli's  tuneful  airs 
Can  harmonize  my  foul,  or  footh  my  cares; 
Thofe  once-lov'd  med'cines  unfuccsfsful  prove, 
Mufic,  alas,  i?  but  the  voice  of  love  ! 
In  vain  I  oft  harmonious  lines  perufe, 
And  leek  for  aid  from  Pope's  and  Prior's  mufe; 
Their  treach'rous  numbers  but  afiift  the  foe, 
And  call  forth  fcenes  of  fympathifing  woe  : 
Here  Heloife  mourns  her  abfent  lover's  charms, 
There  parting  Emma  fighs  in  Henry's  arms; 
Their  loves  like  mine  ill-fated  I  bemoan, 
And  in  their  tender  forrows  read  my  own. 

Relllefs  fometimes,  as  oft  the  mournful  dove 
Forfakes  her  neft,  forfaken  by  her  love, 

*  Agrneral  peace  -zvas  at  this  time  jujl  concluded  at 

Aix  la  Chapelli. 

•)•  Lord  Harifavickt's  feat  in  Cambridge/birt, 

\   Hi  was-  inflalleil  at  Windfor  on  the  l%tb  of  "June 

1730,  at  tie  fame  time  -with  the  Duke  of  Ctrraivrland 

and  the  Earl  of  Surlingtin, 


1004 


THE   WORKS 


I  fly  from  home,  and  feek  the  facred  fields 
Where  Cam's  old  urn  its  fiber  current  yields, 
Where  folemn  tow'rs  o'erlook  each  moffy  grove, 
As  if  to  guard  it  from  th'  affaults  of  love  ; 
Yet  guard  in  vain,  for  there  my  Chloe's  eyes 
But  lately  made  whole  colleges  her  prize  ; 
Her  fons,  though  few,  not  Pallas  cou'd  defend, 
Nor  Dullnefs  fuccour  to  her  thoufands  lend ; 
Love,  like  a  fever  with  infectious  rage, 
Scorch'd  up  the  young,  and  thaw'd  the  froft  of 

age: 

To  gaze  at  her,  ev'n  Dons  were  feen  to  run, 
And  leave  unfinifli'd  pipes,  and  authors — fcarce 

begun. 
*  So  Helen  look'd,  and  mcv'd  with   fuch   a 

grace, 

When  the  grave  fcniors  of  the  Trojan  race 
Were  forc'd  thofe  fatal  beauties  to  admire, 
That  all  their  youth  confum'd,  and  fet  their 

town  on  fire. 

At  fam'd  Newmarket  oft  I  fpend  the  day, 
An  unconcern'd  fpectator  of  the  play  ; 
There  pitilefs  obferve  the  ruin'd  heir 
With  anger  fir'd,  or  melting  with  defpair; 
For  how  fhou'd  I  his  trivial  lofs  bemoan, 
Who  feel  one,  fo  much  greater,   of  my  own  ? 
There  while  the  golden  heaps,  a  glorious  prize, 
Wait  the  decifion  of  two  rival  dice, 
Whilft  long  difputes  'tvvixt  feven  and.  five  remain, 
And   each,   like   parties,   have   their   friends  for 

gain, 

Without  one  wifh  I  fee  the  guineas  fhine, 
"  Fate,  keep  your  gold^I  cry,  make  Chlee  mine." 
Now  fee,  prepar'd  their  utmoft  fpeed  to  try, 
O'er  the  fmooth  turf  the  bounding  racers  fly  ! 
Now  more  and  more  their  fiendcr    limbs  they 

ftrain, 

And  foaming  ftretch  along  the  velvet  plain  ! 
Ah  flay  !  fwift  fteeds,  your  rapid  flight  delay, 
No  more  the  jockey's  fmarting  lafh  obey  : 
But  rather  let  my  hand  direct  the  rein, 
And  guide  your  fleps  a  nobler  prize  to  gain  ; 
Then  fwift  as -eagles  cut  the  yielding  air, 
Bear  me,  bh  bear  me  to  the  abfent  fair. 

Now  when  the  winds  are^hufh'd,  the  air  fe- 


And  cheerful  fun-beams  gild  the  beauteous  fcene, 
Penfive  o'er  all  the  neighb'ring  fields  I  ftray, 
Where'er  or  choice  or  chance  directs  the  way  : 
Or  view  the  op'ning  lawns,  or  private  woods, 
Or  diftant  bluifh  hills,  or  Clver  floods: 
Nowharmlefs  birds  in  filken  nets  infnare, 
Now  with  fwift  dogs  purfue  the  flying  hare  : 
Dull  fports  !  for  oh  my  Chloe  is  not  there  ! 

Fatigu'd  at  length,  I  willingly  retire 
To  a  fmall  ftudy,  and  a  cheerful  fire, 
There  o'er  fome  folio  pore ;  i  pore  'tis  true, 
But  oh  my  thoughts  are  fled,  and  fled  to  you ! 
I  hear  you,,  fee  you,  feaft  upon  your  eyes, 
And  clafp  with  eager  arms  the  lovely  prize  ; 
Here  for  a  while  I  cou'd  forget  my  pain, 
Whilft  I  by  dear  affliction  live  again  : 
But  ev'n  thefe  joys  are  too  fublime  to  laft, 
And  quickly  fade,  like  all  the  real  ones  pafi  ; 
For  juft  when  now  beneath  fome  filenr  grove 
I  fyear  you  talk— and  talk  perhaps  of  love, 

*  ^id.  Horn.  11.  lib,  3.  -ver.  150. 


OF    J  E  N  Y  N  S. 

Or  charm  with  thrilling  notes  the  lift'ning  ear, 
Sweeter  than  angels  fing,  or  angels  hear, 
My  treach'rous  hand  its  weighty  charge  lets  go, 
The  book  fall*  thund'ring  on  the  floor  below, 
The  pleafing  vifion  in  a  moment's  gone, 
Arid  I  once  more  am  wretched,  and  alone. 

So  wher*glad  Orpheus  from  th'  infernal  fhade 
Had  juft  rccall'd  his  long-lamented  maid, 
Soon  as  her  charms  had  reach'd  his  eager  eyes, 
Loft  in  eternal  night — again  ihe  dies. 

TO  A  LADY. 

SENT  WITH   A    PRESENT  OF   SHELLS  AND  STONES 
DESIGNED  FOR  A  GROTTO. 

WITH  gifts  like  thefe,  the  fpoils  of  neighb'ring 

fhores, 

The  Indian  fwain  his  fable  love  adores. 
Off 'rings  well  fuited  to  the  duflcy  fhrine 
Of  his  rude  goddefs,  but  unworthy  mine  : 
And  yet  they  feem  not  fuch  a  worthlefs  prize, 
If  nicely  view'd  by  phi'ofophic  eyes  ; 
And  fuch  are  yours,  that  nature's  works  admire 
With  warmth  like  that,  which  they  themfelves 

infpire.  , 

To  fuch  how  fair  appears  each  grain  of  fand, 
Or  humbleft  weed  as  wrought  by  nature's  hand  ! 
How  far  fuperior  to  all  human  pow'r 
Springs  the  green  blade,  or  buds  the  painted  flow'r ! 
In  all  her  births,  though  of  the  meaneft  kinds, 
A  juft  obfervsr  entertainment  finds, 
With  fond  delight  her  low  productions  fees, 
And  how  fhe  gently  rifes  by  degrees; 
A  fhell  or  flone  he  can  with  pleafure  view, 
Hence  trace  her  nobleft  works,  the  heav'ns — and 

you. 

Behold,  how  bright  thefe  gaudy  trifles  fhifle, 
The  lovely  fportings  of  a  hand  divine  ! 
See  with  what  art  each  curious  fhell  is  made, 
Here  carv'd  in  fret-work,  there  with  pearl  inlaid  ! 
What  vivid  ftreaks  th'  enamcli'd  ftones  adorn, 
Fair  as  the  paintings  of  the  purple  morn  ! 
Yet  fiiil  not  half  their  charms  can  reaeh  our  eyes, 
While  thus  ccnfus'd  the  fparkling  chaos  lies ; 
Doubly  they'll  pleafe,  when  in  your  grotto  plac'd, 
They  plainly  fpeak  their  fair  difpofer's  tafte  ; 
Then  glories  yet  unfeen  fhall  o'er  them  rife, 
New  order  from  your  hand,  new  luftre   from 

your  eyes. 
How  fweet,   how  charming  will  appear   this 

£«•<*> 

When  by  your  art  to  full  perfection  brought ; 
Here  verdant  plants  and   blooming  flow'rs  will 

grow, 
There  bubbling  currents  through  the  fhell-work 

flow  ; 

Here  coral  mix'dwith  fliells  of  various  dyes, 
There  polifh'd  ftones  will  charm  our  wand'ring 

eyes  ; 

Delightful  bower  of  blifs !  fecure  retreat ! 
Fit  for  the  mufes,  and  Statira's  feat. 

But  ftill  how  good  muft  be  that  fair  one's  mind, 
Who  thus  in  foluude  can  pleafure  find ! 
The  mufe  her  company,  good  fenfe  her  guide, 
Rrfiftlefs  charms  her  pow'r,  but  not  her  pride; 
Who  thus  forfakes  the  town,  the  park,  and  play, 
In  filent  fhades  to  pafs  her  hours  away; 


POEMS. 


100$ 


Who  better  likes  to  breathe  iYelh  country  air, 

Than  ride  imprifon'd  in  a  velvet  chair  ; 

And  makes  the  warbling  nightingale  her  choice, 

Before  the  thrills  of  Farinelli's  voice; 

Prefers  her  books,  and  confcience  void  of  ill, 

To  concerts,  balls,  affemblies,  and  quadrille  : 

Sweet  bow'rs  more  pleas' d  than  gilded  chariot 

fees, 
For  groves  the  playhoufe  "quits,    and  beaus  for 

trees. 
Bleft  is  the  man,  whom  Heav'n  fhall  grant  one 

hour 
With    fuch   a   lovely   nymph,  in   fuch   a   lovely 

bow'r ! 

TO  A  LADY. 

IN  ANSWER   TO  A   LETTER  WROTE  IN   A  VERY 
FINE   II AND. 

WHILST   well-wrote  lines  our  wond'ring  eyes 

command, 

'  The  beauteous  work  of  Chloe's  artful  hand, 
Throughout  the  finifh'd  piece  we  fee  difplay'd 
The  exa&eft  image  of  the  lovely  maid ; 


See  with  what  art  the  fable  currents  flain 
In  wand'ring  mazes  all  the  milk-white  plain  ! 
Thus  o'er  the  meadows  wrapp'd  in  filver  fnow 
Unfrozen  brooks  in  dark  meanders  flow  ; 
Thus  jetty  curls  in  fhining  ringlets  deck 
The  ivory  plain  of  lovely  Chloe's  neck: 
See,  like  fome  virgin,  whofe  unmeaning  charms 
Receive  new  luftre  from  a  loTer's  arms,   ' 
The  yielding  paper's  pure  but  vacant  breaft, 
By  her  fair  hand  and  flowing  pen  impi  eft, 
At  ev'ry  touch  more  animated  grows, 
And  with  new  life  and  new  ideas  glows, 
Frefh  beauties  from  the  kind  dcfiler  gains, 
And  iliines  each  moment  brighter  from  its  ftains. 

Let  mighty  love  no  longer  boaft  his  darts, 
That  ftrike  unerring,  aim'd  at  mortal  hearts; 
Chloe,  your  quill  can  equal  wonders  do, 
Wound  full  as  fure,  and  at  a  diilance  too  : 
Arm'd  with  your  fcath-r'd  weapons  in  your  handi, 
From  pole  to  pole  you  fend  your  great  commands; 
To  diftant  climes  in  vain  the  lover  flies, 
Your  pen  o'crtakes  him,  if  he  'fcapes  yoar  eyes; 
So  thofe  who  from  the  fword  in  battle  run, 
But  perifh  victims  to  the  diilant  gun. 

Beauty's  a  fhort-liv'd  blaze,  a  fading  flow'r, 
But  thefe  are  charms  no  ages  can  devour 
Thefe,  far-  fuperior  to  the  brightefl  face, 
Triumph  alike  o'er  rime  as  well  as  fpace. 
When  that  fair  form,  which  thoufands  now  adore, 
By  years  decay'd,  fhall  tyrannize  no  more, 
Thefe  lovely  lines  fhall  future  ages  view, 
And  eyes  unborn,  like  ours,  be  charm'd  by  you. 

How  oft  do  I  admire  with  fond  delight 
The  curious  piece,  and  wiih  like  you  to  write ! 
Alas,  vain  hope  !  that  might  as  well  afpire 
To  copy  Paulo's  ftroke,  or  Titian's  fire  : 
Ev'n  now  your  fplendid  lines  before  me  lie, 
And  I  in  vain  to  imitate  them  try  : 
Believe  me,  fair,  I'm  pradifing  this  art, 
To  fteal  your  hand,  in  hopes  to  ftcal  your  heart. 


T«   THE  RIGHT    HONOURABLE 


THE  LADY  MARGARET  CAVENDISH 
HARLEY  *. 

PRESENTED  WITH    A    COLLECTION    OF    POEMI. 

THE  tuneful  throng  was  ever  beauty's  care, 

And  verfe  a  tribute  facred  to  the  fair ; 

Hence  in  each  age  the  lovelieft  nymph  has  been, 

By  undilputed  right,  the  mufes  queen ; 

Hep  fmiles  have  all  poetic  bofoms  fir'd, 

And  patroniz'd  the  verfe  themfelves  infpir'd : 

Lefbia  prefided  thus  in  Roman  times, 

Thus  Sachariffa  reign'd  o'er  Britifh  rhymes. 

And  prefent  bards  to  Margaretta  bow, 

For  what  they  were  of  old,  is  Harley  now. 

From  Oxford's  houfe,  in  thefe  dull  bufy  days, 
Alone  we  hope  for  patronage,  or  praife ; 
He  to  our  flighted  labours  ftill  is  kind, 
Beneath  his  roof,  w'  are  ever  fure  to  find 
(Reward  fufficient  for  the  world's  noglecT:} 
Charms  to  infpire,  and  goodnefs  to  proted ; 
Your  eyes  with  rapture  animate  our  lays, 
Your  fire's  kind  hand  uprears  our  drooping  bays-; 
Form'd  for  our  glory  and  fupnort,  ye  feem, 
Our  conftant  patron  he,  and  you  our  theme. 
Where  fhou'd  poetic  homage  then  be  pay'd  ? 
Where  ev'ry  verfe,  but  at  your  feet,  be  lay'd? 
A  double  right  you  to  this  empire  bear, 
As  firft  in  beauty,  and  as  Oxford's  heir. 

Illuftrious  maid  !  in  whofe  fole  psrfon  join'd 
Ev'ry  perfection  of  the  fair  we  find ; 
Charms  that  might  warrant  all  her  fex's  pride, 
Without  one  foible  of  her  fex  to  hide; 
Good-nature,  artlefs  as  the  bloom  that  dyes 
Her  cheeks,  and  wit  as  piercing  as  her  eyes. 
Oh  Harley  !  cou'd  but  you  thefe  lines  approve, 
Thefe  children  fprung  from  idlenefs  and  love, 
Cou'd  they,  (but  ah  how  vain  is  the  defign !) 
Hope  to  amufe  your  hours,  as  once  they've  mine, 
Th'  ill-judging  world's  applaufe,  and  critics  blame, 
Alike  I'd  fcorn  :  Your  approbation's  fame. 

HORACE, 

BOOK  II.    ODE  XVI.    IMITATED. 

To  tie  Honourable  Pbilif  Yorkc,  Efq.  foon  after  tie 
general  eletlion  in  1747. 

FOR  quiet,  Yorke,  the  failor  cries, 
When  gathering  ftorms  ebfcure  the  fkies, 

The  ftars  no  more  appearing ; 
The  candidate  for  quiet  prays, 
Sick  of  the  bumpers  and  huzzas 

Of  bleft  electioneering.  * 

Who  thinks,  that  from  the  fpeaker's  chair 
The  Terjeanr's  mace  can  keep  off  care, 

Iswond'roufly  miftaken : 
Ala* !  he  is  not  half  f,>  bleft 
As  thofe  wh'  have  liberty,  and  reft, 

And  dine  on  beans  and  bacon. 


*  Only  daughter  and  heir  of  Edward  Earl  of  Ox 
ford  and  Mortimer,  by  Lady  Henritt.a  Cavendijb^  only 
daughter  cnc*  heir  cf  John  Holies,  Duke  of  Ne ivc a/lie . 
SLe  ion:  after-wards  Ducbefs  of  Portland,  and  died 

>/yi;.  1785. 


3005 


THE   WORKS 


Why  fliould  we  then  to  London  run, 
And  quit  our  cheerful  country  fun, 

For  bufinefs,  dirt,  and  fmoke  ? 
Can  we,  by  changing  place  and  air, 
Ourfelves  get  rid  of,  or  our  care  ? 

In  troth,  'tis  all  a  joke. 

Care  climbs  proud  fhips  of  mightieft  force, 
And  mounts  behind  the  general's  horfe, 

Outftrips  huffars  and  pandours; 
Far  fwifter  than  the  bounding  hind, 
Swifter  than  clouds  before  the  wind, 

<3r  .  before  the  Highlanders. 

A  man,  when  once  he's  fafely  chofe, 
Shou'd  laugh  at  all  his  threat'ning  foes, 

Nor  think  of  future  evil : 
Each-good  has  its  attendant  ill ; 
A  feativno  tad  thing,  but  ftill 

Elections  are  the  devil. 

Its  gifts  with  hand  impartial  Heav'n 
Divides :  to  Oxford  it  was  giv'n 

To  die  in  full-blown  glory ; 

To • —  indeed  a  longer  date, 

But  then  with  unrelenting  hate 

Purfu'd  by  Whig  and  Tory. 

The  gods  to  you  with  bounteous  hand 
Have  granted  feats,  and  parks,  and  land ; 

Brocades  and  filks  you  wear ; 
With  claret  and  ragouts  you  treat, 
Six  neighing  fteeds  with  nimble  feet 

Whirl  on  your  gilded  car : 

To  me  they've  given  a  fmall  retreat, 
Good  port  and  mutton,  beft  of  meat, 

With  broad-cloth  on  my  fhoulders, 
A  foul  that  fcorns  a  dirty  job, 
Loves  a  good  rhyme,  and  hates  a  mob, 

I  mean  who  a'n't  freeholders. 

HORACE, 

BOOK  IV.    ODE  VIII.    IMITATED. 
To  the  fame. 

DID  but  kind  fate  to  me  impart 
Wealth  equal  to  my  gen'rous  heart, 
Some  curious  gift  to  ev'ry  friend, 
A  token  'of  my  love,  J'd  fend ; 
But  ftiil  the  choiceft  and  the  beft 
Shou'd  be  confign'd  to  friends  at  Wreft*. 

An  organ,  which,  if  right  I  guefs, 
Wou'd  beft  pleafe  Lady  Marchionefs, 
Shou'd  firfl  be  fent  by  my  command, 
Worthy  of  her  infpiring  hand  : 
To  Lady  Bell  of  niceft  mould 
A  coral  fet  in  burnifh'd  gold  : 
To  you,  well  knowing  what  you  like, 
Portraits  by  Lely  or  Vandyke, 
A  curious  bronze,  or  buft.  antique. 

But  fince  thefe  gifts  exceed  my  power, 
And  you,  who  need  not  wifh  for  more, 
Already  bleft  with  all  that's  fine, 
Are  pleas'd  with  verfe,  though  fuch  as  mine ; 
As  poets  us'd  in  ancient  times, 
Til  make  my  prefents  all  in  rhymes ; 

*    rbe  feat  of  the  Marcbianefs  of  K:nt,  wife  of 
Ltrd  Hardwictt, 


OF   JENYNS. 

And  left  you  fhould  forget  their  worth, 
Like  them  I'll  fet  their  value  forth. 

Not  monumental  brafs  or  ftones, 
The  guardians  of  heroic  hones, 
Not  victories  won  by  Marlbro's  fword, 
Nor  titles  which  thefe  feats  record, 
Such  glories  o'er  the  dead  diffufe, 
As  can  the  labours  of  the  mufe. 
But  if  fhe  fhould  her  aid  deny, 
With  you  your  virtues  all  muft  die, 
Nor  tongues  unborn  (hall  ever  fay 
How  wife,  how  good,  was  Lady  Grey. 

What  now  had  been  th'  ignoble  doom 
Of  him  who  built  imperial  Rome  ? 
Or  him  deferving  ten  times  more, 
Who  fed  the  hungry,  cloth'd  the  poor, 
Clear'd  dreams,  and  bridges  laid  acrofs, 
And  built  the  little  church  of  Rofs  ? 
Did  not  th'  eternal  powers  of  verfe 
From  age  to  age  their  deeds  rehearfe. 

The  mufe  forbids  the  brave  to  die, 
Beftowing  immortality : 
Still  by  her  aid  in  bleft  abodes 
Alc:des  feafts  among  the  gods; 
And  royal  Arthus  ftill  is  able 
To  fill  his  hofpitable  table 
With  Englifh  beef,  and  Englifh  knights, 
And  looks  with  pity  down  on  White's. 

TO  THE  HON.  MISS  YORKE, 

ON   HER   MARRIAGE   TO    LORD  ANSON,   APRIL  25. 
1748. 

VICTORIOUS  Anfon  fee  returns 

From  the  fubjected  main  ! 
With  joy  each  Britifh  bofom  burns, 

Fearlefs  of  France  and  Spain. 

Honours  his  grateful  fovereign's  hand, 

Conqueft  his  own  beftwws, 
Applaufe  unfeign'd  his  native  land, 

Unen  vy'd  wealth  her  foes. 

"  But  ftill,  my  fon,''  Britannia  cries, 

"  Still  more  thy  merits  claim ; 
"  Thy  deeds  deferve  a  richer  prize 

"  Than  titles,  wealth,  or  fame  : 

"  Twice  wafted  fafe  from  pole  to  pole, 
"  Thou'ft  fail'd  the  globe  around  ; 

"  Contains  it  aught  can  charm  thy  foul  ? 
"  Thy  fondeft  wifhes  bound  ? 

"  Is  there  a  treafure  worth  thy  care 

"  Within  th'  encircling  line  ? 
"  Say,  and  I'll  weary  Herw'n  with  pray'r, 

"  To  make  that  treafure  thine." 

Heav'n  liften'd  to  Britannia's  voice, 

Agreed  that  more  was  due : 
He  chofe  •,  the  gods  approv'd  his  choice, 

And  paid  him  all  in  you. 

CHLOE  TO  STREPHON. 


Too  plain,  dear  youth,  thefe  tell-tale  eyee 
My  heart  your  own  declare  ; 

But,  for  Heav'n's  fake,  let  it  fuffice, 
You  reign  triumphant  there. 


POEMS. 


Forbear  y our  utmoft  pow'r  to  try, 

Nor  farther  urge  your  fwuy; 
Prefs  not  for  what  1  muft  deny, 

For  fear  I  fhould  obey. 

Could  all  your  arts  fuccefsful  prove, 

Would  you  a  maid  undo, 
Whofe  greateft  failing  is  her  love, 

And  that  her  love  for  you  ? 

Say,  would  you  ufe  that  very  pow'r 

"You  from  her  fondnefs  claim, 
To  ruin  in  one  fatal  hour 

A  life  of  fpotlcfs  fame  ? 

Ah  ccafe,  my  dear,  to  do  an  ill, 

Becaufe  perhaps  you  muy  ! 
But  rather  try  your  utmoft  fldll 

To  fave  me  than  betray. 

Be  you  yourfelf  my  virtue's  guard, 

Defend,  and  not  purfue ; 
Since  'tis  a  tafk  for  me  too  hard, 

To  fight  with  love  and  you. 

A  SONG. 

CEASE,  Sally,  thy  charms  to  expand. 

All  thy  arts  and  thy  witchcraft  forbear, 

Hide  thofe  eyes,  hide  that  neck  and.  that  hand, 
And  thofe  fweet  flowing  treffes  of  hair. 

Oh,  torture  me  not,  for  love's  fake, 

With  the  fmirk  of  thofe  delicate  lips, 

With  that  head's  dear  fignificant  fb.ake, 

And  the  tofs  of  the  hoop  and  the  hips ! 

Oh,  fight  ftill  more  fatal !  look  there, 

O'er  her  tucker  what  murderers  peep ! 

So now  there's  an  end  of  my  care, 

I  fhall  never  more  eat,  drink,  or  fleep. 

Do  you  fing  too  ?  Ah,  mifchievous  thought ! 

Touch  me,  touch  me  not  there  any  more  ; 
Who  the  devil  can  'fcape  being  caught 

In  a  trap  that's  thus  baited  all  o'er  ? 

But  why  to  advife  fhould  I  try  ? 

What  nature  ordains  we  muft  prove; 
You  no  more  can  help  charming,  than  1 

Can  help  being  charm'd,  and  in  love. 

A  SONG. 

WHEN  firft  I  fought  fair  Caslia's  love, 

And  ev'ry  charm  was  new, 
I  fwore  by  all  the  gods  above, 

To  be  for  ever  true. 

But  long  in  vain  did  I  adore, 

Long  wept,  and  figh'd  in  vain, 

She  ftill  protefted,  vow'd,  and  fwore 
She  ne'er  would  eafe  my  pain. 

At  laft  o'ercome,  fhc  made  me  bleft, 

And  yielded  all  her  charms, 
And  I  forfook  her  when  poffeft, 

And  fled  to  others  arms. 

But  let  not  this,  dear  Cselia,  now 

To  rage  thy  breafl:  incline ; 
For  why,  fince  you  forget  your  vow, 

Should  I  remember  mine  I 


THE  CHOICE. 


HAD  I,  Pigmalion-like,  the  pow'r 
To  make  the  nymph  I  would  adore, 
The  model  fhould  be  thus  defign'd , 
Like  this  her  form,  like  this  her  mind. 

Her  fkin  ihould  be  as  lilies  fair, 
With  rofy  cheeks  and  jetty  hair ; 
Her  lips  with  pure  vermillion  fpread, 
And  foft  and  moift,  as  well  as  red ; 
Her  eyes  fhould  fhine  whh  vivid  light, 
At  once  both  languifhing  and  bright ; 
Her  fhape  fhould  be  exact  and.lmall, 
Her  ftature  rather  low  than  tall ; 
Her  limbs  well  turn'd,  her  air  and  mien 
At  once  both  fprightly  and  ferene; 
Befides  all  rhis,  a  iiamelefs  grace 
Should  be  diffus'd  all  o'er  her  face  : 
To  make  the  lovely  piece  complete. 
Not  only  beautiful,  but  fweet. 

This  for  her  form ;  now  for  her  mind; 
I'd  have  it  open,  gcn'rous,  kind, 
Void  of  all  coquettifh  arts, 
And  vain  defigns  of  conquering  hearts, 
Not  fway'd  by  any  views  of  gain, 
Nor  fond  of  giving  others  pain ; 
But  foft,  though  bright,  like  her  own  eyes, 
Difcreetly  witty,  gayly  wife. 

I'd  have  her  ikill'd  in  ev'ry  art 
That  can  engage  a  wand'ring  heart ; 
Know  all  the  fciences  of  love, 
Yet  ever  willing  to  improve  ; 
To  prefs  the  hand,  and  roll  the  eye, 
And  drop  fometimes  an  amorous  figh, 
To  lengthen  out  the  balmy  kifs, 
And  heighten  ev'ry  tender  blifs ; 
And  yet  I'd  have  the  charmer  be 
By  nature  only  taught— or  me. 

I'd  have  her  to  ftrid  honour  ty'd, 
And  yet  without  one  fpark  of  pride  ; 
In  company  well  drefs'd  and  fine, 
Yet  not  ambitious  to  outfhine ; 
In  private  always  neat  and  clean, 
And  quite  a  ftranger  to  the  fpleen ; 
Well  pleas'd  to  grace  the  park  and  play, 
And  dance  fometimes  the  night  away, 
But  oft'ner  fond  to  fpend  her  hours 
In  folitude  and  fhady  bow'rs, 
And  there  beneath  fome  filent  grove. 
Delight  in  poetry  and  love. 

Some  fparks  of  the  poetic  fire 
I  fain  would  have  her  foul  infpire, 
Enough,  at  leaft,  to  let  her  know 
What  joys  from  love  and  virtue  flow ; 
Enough,  at  leaft,  to  make  her  wife, 
And  fops  and  fopperies  defpife ; 
Prefer  her  books,  and  her  own  mufe, 
To  vifits,  fcandal,  chat,  and  news; 
Above  her  fex  exalt  her  mind, 
And  make  her  more  than  womankind. 

TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 

GOING  TO  THE  WEST-INDIES. 

FOR  univcrfal  fway  defign'd, 

To  diftant  realms  Clorinda  flies, 

And  fcorns,  in  one  fmall  ifle  confin'd, 
To  bound  dm  conquefts  of  her  eyes. 


icoS 


THE   WORKS   OF  JENYNS. 


From  our  cold  climes  to  India's  fhore 
With  cruel  hafte  fhe  wings  her  way, 

To  fcorch  their  fultry  plains  ftill  more, 
And  rob  us  of  our  only  day. 

Whilft  ev'ry  ftreaming  eye  o'erflows 
With  tender  floods  of  parting  tears, 

Thy  breaft,  dear  caufe  of  all  our  woes, 
Alone  unmov'd,  and  gay  appears. 

But  ftill,  if  right  the  mufes  tell, 

The  fated  point  of  time  is  nigh, 

When  grief  fhall  that  fair  bofom  fwell, 
And  trickle  from  thy  lovely  eye. 

Though  now,  like  Philip's  fon,  whofe  arms 
Did  once  the  vaflal  world  command, 

You  rove  with  unrefifted  charms, 

And  conquer  both  by  fea  and  land ; 

Yet  when  (as  foon  they  muft)  mankind 

Shall  all  be  doom'd  to  wear  your  chain, 

Yon  too,  like  him,  will  weep  to  find 

No  more  unconquer'd  worlds  remain. 

CHLOE  ANGLING. 

ON  yon  fair  brook's  enamell'd  fide, 

Behold  my  Chloe  ftands ! 
Her  angle  trembles  o'er  the  tide, 

As  confcious  of  her  hands. 

Calm  as  the  gentle  waves  appear, 

Her  thoughts  ferenely  flow, 
Calm  as  the  foftly-breathing  air 

That  curls  the  brook  below. 

Such  charms  her  fparkling  eyes  difclofe, 
With  fuch  foft  pow'r  endu'd, 

She  fecms  a  new-born  Venus  rofe 
From  the  tranfparent  flood. 

From  each  green  bank,  and  mofiy  cave, 

The  fcaly  race  repair, 
They  fport  beneath  the  cryftal  wave, 

And  kifs  her  image  there. 

Here  the  bright  filver  eel  enroll'd 

In  ftiining  volumes  lies, 
There  baflcs  the  carp  bedropt  with  gold 

In  the  funfhine  of  her  eyes. 

With  hungry  pikes  in  wanton  play 

The  tim'rous  trouts  appear, 
The  hungry  pikes  forget  to  prey, 

The  tim'rous  trouts  to  fear. 

With  equal  hafte  the  thoughtlefs  crew 

To  the  fair  tempter  fly, 
Nor  grieve  they,  whilft  her  eyes  they  view, 

That  by  her  hand  they  die. 

Thus  I  too  view'd  the  nymph  of  late, 

Ah,  fimple  fifii,  beware !  / 

Soon  will  you  find  my  wretched  fate, 
And  ftruggle  in  the  fnare. 

But,  fair  one,  though  thefe  toils  fucceed, 

Of  conqueft  be  not  vain, 
Nor  think  o'er  all  the  fcaly  breed 

Unpunifh'd  thus  to  reign ; 

Remember,  in  a  wat'ry  glafs 
His  charms  Narciuus  fpy'd. 


When  for  his  own  bewithing  face 
The  youth  defpair'd,  and  dy'd. 

No  more  then  harmlefs  fifh  enfnare, 

No  more  fuch  wiles  purfue  ; 
Left  whilft  your  baits  for  them  prepare, 

Love  iinds  out  one  for  you. 

CHLOE  HUNTING. 

WHILST  thoufands  court  fair  Chloe's  love, 

She  fears  the  dang'rous  joy, 
But,  Cynthia-like,  frequents  the  grove, 

As  lovely,  and  as  coy. 

With  the  fame  fpeed  fhe  feeips  the  hind, 

Or  hunts  the  flying  hare  ; 
She  leaves  purfuing  fwains  behind, 

To  languifti  and  defpair. 

Oh,  ftrange  caprice  in  thy  dear  breaft  1 

Whence  firft  this  whim  began ; 
To  follow  thus  each  worthlefs  beaft, 

And  fhun  their  fovereign  man ! 

Confider,  fair,  what  'tis  you  do, 

How  thus  they  both  muft  die, 
Not  furer  they,  when  you  purfue, 

Than  we  whene'er  you  fly. 

ON  LUCINDA'S  RECOVERY  FROM  THE 
SMALL-POX. 

BRIGHT  Venus  long  with  envious-eyes 
The  fair  Lucinda's  charms  had  feen, 

"  And  fhall  fhe  ftill,"  the  goddefs  cries, 
"  Thus  dare  to  rival  beauty's  queen  !" 

She  fpoke,  and  to  th'  infernal  plains 

With  cruel  hafte  indignant  goes, 
Where  death,  the  prince  of  terrors,  reigns 

Amidft  difeafes,  pains,  and  woes. 

To  him  her  pray'rs  fhe  thus  applies : 

"  O  fole  in  whom  my  hopes  confide ! 

"  To  blaft  my  rival's  potent  eyes, 

"  And  in  her  fate  all  mortal  pride ; 

"  Let  her  but  feel  thy  chilling  dart ; 

"  I  will  forgive,  tremendous  god, 
"  Ev'n  that  which  pierc'd  Adonis'  heart :" 

He  hears,  and  gives  th'  aflenting  nod. 

Then  calling  forth  a  fierce  difeafe 

Impatient  for  the  beauteous  prey, 

Bids  him  the  lovelieft  fabric  feize 

The  gods  e'er  form'd  of  human  clay. 

Affur'd  he  meant  Lucinda's  charms, 
To  her  th'  infectious  dxmon  flies. 

Her  neck,  her  cheeks,  her  lips  difarms, 
And  of  their  lightning  robs  her  eyes. 

The  Cyprian  queen  with  cruel  joy 

Beholds  her  rival's  charms  o'erthrown. 

Nor  doubts,  like  mortal  fair,  t'  employ 
Their  ruins  to  augment  her  own.  ' 

From  out  the  fpoils  of  ev'ry  grace 

The  goddefs  picks  fome  glorious  prize, 

Tranfplants  the  rofes  from  her  face, 

And  arms  young  Cupids  from  her  eyes, 


POEM 


Now  death  (ah  veil  the  mournful  fcene) ! 

Had  iu  one  moment  pierc'd  her  hcait, 
Had  kinder  fate  not  ftept  between, 

And  turn'd  afide  th'  uplifted  dart. 

"  What  phrenzy  bids  thy  hand  eflay," 

He  cries,  "  to  wound  thy  fureft  friend, 

«'  Whofe  beauties  to  thy  realms  each  day 

"  Such  num'rous  crowds  of  victims  fend? 

"  Are  not  her  eyes,  where-e'er  they  aim, 
"  As  thine  own  filent  arrows  lure? 

•'  Or  who  that  once  has  felt  their  flame, 

"  Dar'd  e'er  indulge  one  hope  of  cure  ?" 

Death  thus  reprov'd  his  hand  retrains, 
And  bids  the  dire  dif^emper  fly  ; 

The  cruel  beauty  lives,  and  reigns, 

That  thousands  may  adore,  and  die. 


WRITTEN   IN   MR.  LOCKE'S  ESSAY  ON 
HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 

LONG  had  the  mind  of  man  with  curious  art 
Search'd  nature's  wohd'rous  plan  through  ev'ry 

part, 

Meafur'd  each  tract  of  ocean,  earth  and  fky, 
And  number'd  all  the  rolling  orbs  on  high ; 
Yet  ftill,  fo  learn'd,  herfelf  (he  little  knew, 
'Till  Locke's  unerring  pen  the  portrait  drew; 
So  beauteous  Eve  a  while  in  Eden  ftray'd, 
And  all  her  great  Creator's  works  furvey'd; 
By  fun,  and  moon,  me  knew  to  mark  the  h6urf 
She  knew  the  genus  of  each  plant  and  flow'r; 
She  knew,  when  fporting  on  the  verdanr.  lawn, 
The  tender  lambkin,  and  the  nimble  fawn: 
But  ft;ll  a  ftranger  to  her  own  bright  face, 
•She  guefk'd  not  ac  its  form,  nor  what  me  was ; 
'Till  led  at  length  to  feme  clear  fountain's  Gde, 
She  view'd  her  beauties  in  the  cryftal  tide  ; 
The  mining  mirror  all  her  charms  difplays, 
And  her  eyes  catch  their  own  rebounded'  rays. 

WRITTEN  IN  A  LADY'S  VOLUME  OF 
TRAGEDIES. 

SINCE  thou, relentlefs  maid,can'ft  daily  hear 
Thy  Have's  complaints  without  one  fight  or  tear, 
Why  beats  thy  brcafl,  or  thy  bright  eyes  o'er- 

flow 

At  thefe  imaginary  fcenes  of  woe  ? 
Rather  teach  thefe  to  weep,  and  that  to  heave, 
At  real  pains  themfelyes  to  thoufands  give  ; 
And  if  fuch  pity  to  feign'd  love  is  due, 
Confider  how  much  more  ycu  owe  to  true. 


CUFID  RELIEVED. 

As  once  young  Cupid  went  aftray, 
The  little  god  I  found ; 

I  took  his  bow  and  fhafts  away, 
And  fall  his  pinions  bound. 

At  Ghloe's  feet  my  fpoils  I  cafl, 
Myconqueft  proud  to  fhow; 

She  faw  his  godfhip  fetter'd  faft, 
And  frnil'd  to  fee  him  fo.' 
VOL.  XI. 


But  ah  !  that  fmile  fuch  frefli  fupplies 

Of  arms  refiftiefs  gave  ! 
I'm  forc'd  again  to  yield  my  prize, 

And  fall  again  his  flave. 


THE  WAY  TO  BE  WISE. 

IMITATED  FROM  LA  FONTAINE. 

POOR  Jenny,  am'rous,  young,  and  gay, 
having  by  man  been  led  aftray, 

To  rumn'ry  dark  retir'd; 
There  liv'd  and  look'd  fo  like  a  maid. 
So  feldoni  eat,  fo  often  pray'd, 

She  %vas  by  all  admir'd. 

The  lady  Abbefs  oft  would  cry, 
If  any  illler  tiod  awry, 

Or  prov'd  an  idle  flattern ; 
"   See  wife  and  pious  Mrs.  Jane ! 
"  A  life  fo  ftridi,  fo  grave  a  mien 

"  Is  fure  a  worthy  pattern.1' 

A  pert  young  fiut  at  length  replies, 

"  Experience,  madam,  makes  folks  wife, 

"  'Tis  that  has  made  her  fuch  ; 
"  And  we,  poor  fouls,  no  doubt  mould  be 
"  As  pious,  and  as  wife,  as  me, 

"  If  we  had  feen  as  much." 

THE  SNOW-BALL. 

PROM   PETRONIUS  AFRAN1US. 

WHITE  as  her  hand  fair  Julia  threw 

A  ball  of  filver  fnow;        , 
The  frozen  globe  fir'd  as  it  flew, 

My  bolbm  felt  it  glow. 

Strange  pow'r  of  lovel  whofe  great  command 

Can  thus  a  fnow-ball  arm ; 
When  lent,  fair  Julia,  from  thine  hand, 

Ev'n  ice  itfelf  can  warm. 

How  fhould  we  then  fecure  our  hearts? 

Love's  pow'r  we  all  muft  feel, 
Who  thus  can,  l>y  flrange  magic  arts, 

In  ice  his  flames  conceal. 

'Tis  thou  alone,  fair  Julia,  know, 
Can'ft  quench  my  fierce  defire; 

But  not  with  water,  ice,  or  fnow, 
But  with  an  equal  fire. 

ANACREON,   ODE  XX. 

A  ROCK  on  Phrygian  plains  we  fee 
That  once  was  beauteous  Niobe  : 

nd  Progrie,'  too  revengeful  fair  ! 

ow  flits  a  wand'ring  bird  in  air: 
Thus  I  a  looking-glals  would  be, 
That  you,  dear  maid,  might  gaze  on  mc~ 
Be  clv*»  g'd  to  flays,  that  ftraitly  lac'd, 
I  might  embrace  thy  {lender  waift  ; 
A  filver  ftream  I'd  bathe  thee,  fair, 
Or  fhine  pomatum  on  thy  hair; 
In  a  foft  fable  tippet's  form 
I'd  kifi  thy  fnowy  bubbles  warm; 
3  S    ' 


THE  WORKS   OF   JENYN3. 


iciTo 

In  f»»-:pe  of  pearl  thy  bofom  deck, 
And  hang  for  ever  round  thy  neck, 
Pleas'd  to  be  aught  that  touches  you, 
Your  glove,  your  garter,  or  jour  fhoe. 


A  TRANSLATION  OF  SOME  LATIN  VER 
SES  ON  THE  CAMERA  OBSCURA. 

THI  various  pow'rs  of  blended  fhade  and  light, 
The  fkiiful  Zc uxis  of  the  dufity  night ; 
The  lovely  forms  that  paint  the  fnowy  plain 
Free  from  the  pencil's  violating  {lain  ; 
In  tuneful  lines,  harmonious  Phcebus,  (ing, 
At  once  of  light  and  veife  celeflial  king. 

Divine  Apollo !  let  thy  facred  fire 
Thy  youthful  bard's  unfldlful  bread  infpire, 
Like  the  fair  empty  fheet  he  hangs  to  view, 
Void,  and  imfurniflVd,  till  infpir'd  by  you  ; 
O  let  one  beam,  one  kind  enlight'ning  ray 
At  once  upon  his  mind  and  paper  play ! 
Hence  fliall  his  breaft  with  bright  ideas  glow, 
Hence    num'rous    forms    the    filver    field    {hall 

ftrew. 

But  now  the  muft's  ufeful  precepts  view, 
And  with  juft  care  the  pltafing  work  purftie. 
Firft  choofe  a  window  that  convenient  lies, 
And  to  the  north  directs  the  wand'ring  eyes; 
Dark  be  the  room  ;  let  not  a  ftraggling  ray 
Intrude,  to  chafe  the  fhadowy  forms  away, 
Except  one  bright  refulgent  blaze  convey "d 
Through  a  ftrait  pafiage  in  the  fliutter  made, 
In  which  th*  ingenions  artift  firft  mud  place 
A  little,  convex,  round,  tranfpaient  glafs, 
Andjuft  behind  th'  extended  paper  lay, 
On  which  his  art  {hall  all  its  pow'r  difplay : 
There  rays  reflected  from  all  parts  {hall  meet, 
And  paint  their  objedts  on  the  filver  meet ; 
A  thoufand  forms  fhall  in  a  moment  rife, 
Anc    magic    landfcapcs    charm    our    wand'ring 

eyes ; 

*Tis  thus  from  ev'ry  obje&  that  we  view, 
If  Epicurus'  dodlrine  teaches  true, 
The  {ubtile  parts  upon  our  organs  play, 
And  to  our  minds  th'  external  forms  convey. 

But  from  what  caufes  all  thefe  wonders  flow, 
'Tis  not  permitted  idle  bards  to  know, 
How  through  the  centre  ot  the  convex  glafs, 
The  piercing  rays  together  twifted  pafs, 
Or  why  revers'd  the  lovely  fcenes  appear, 
Or  why^he  fun's  approaching  light  they  fear; 
Let  grave  philofophers  the  caufe  inquire, 
Enough  for  us  to  lee,  and  to  admire. 

See  then  what  forms  with  various  colours  {lain 
The  painted  furface  of  the  paper  plain  ! 
Now  bright  and  .gay,  as  {nines  the  heavenly  bow, 
So  late  a  wide,  unpeopled  wafte  of  fnow : 
Here  verdant  groves,  there  golden  crops  cf  corn 
The  new  uncultivated  fields  adorn  ; 
Here  gardens  deckt  with  flow'rs  of  various  dyes, 
There  {lender  tow'rs,  and  little  cities  rife : 
But  all  with  tops  inverted  downward  bend, 
Earth  mounts  aloft,   and  Ikies  and   cloads  de- 

fcend : 

Thus  the  wife  vulgar  on  a  pendent  land 
Imagine  our  antipodes  to  ftand, 
And  wonder  much,  how  they  fccurely  go, 
And  not  fail  headlong  on  the  heav'ns  below. 


The  charms  of  motion  here  exalt  each  part 
Above  the  reach  of  great  Apellcs'  art ; 
Zephyrs  the  waving  harvefts  gently  blow, 
The  waters  curl;  and  brooks  inceflant  flow; 
Men,  hcafts,  and  birds  in  fair  confufion  ftray, 
Some  rife  to  fight,  whilft  others  pafs  away 

On  all  we  feize  that  comes  within  our  reach, 
The  rolling  coach  we  ftop,  the  horfe-man  catch; 
Compel  the  porting  traveller  to  flay; 
But  the  {hort  vifit  caufes  no  delay. 

Again,  behold  what  lovely  profpec'ls  rife  ? 
Now  with  the  loveliefl  feaft  your  longing  eyes. 
Nor  let  ftri<5l  modcfty  be  here  afraid, 
To  view -upon  her  head  a  beauteous  maid: 
See  in  fmall  folds  her  waving  garments  flow, 
And  all  her  {lender  limBs  ftill  {tenderer  grow  ; 
Contracted  in  one  little  orb  is  found 
The  fpacious  hoop,  once  five  vaft  ells  around: 
But  think  not  to  embrace  the  flying  fair, 
Soon  will  fne  quit  your  arms  unfeen  as  air, 
In  this  refembling  too  a  tender  maid, 
Coy  to  the  lover's  touch,  and  of  his  hand  afraid. 

Enough  w*  have  feen ;  now  let  th'  intruding  day 
Chafe  all  the  lovely  magic  fcenes  away; 
Again  th'  unpeopled  fnowy  waile  returns, 
And  the  lone  plain  its  faded  glories  mourns; 
The  bright  creation  in  a  moment  flies, 
And  all  the  pigmy  generation  dies. 

Thus,\vhen  llill night  her  gloomy  mantkfpreads, 
The  fairies  dance  around  the  flow'ry  meads! 
But  when  the  day  returns,  they  wing  their  flight 
To  diftant  lands,  and  {bun  th'  unwelcome  light. 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  VENUS. 

IN  her  own  ifle's  remotefl  grove 

Stands  Venus'  lovely  ferine, 
Sacred  to  beauty,  joy,  and  love, 

And  built  by  hands  divine. 

The  polim'd  flruclure,  fair  and  bright 

As  her  own  ivory  {kin, 
Without  is  alabaftcr  white, 

And  ruby  all  within. 

Above    a  cupola  charms  the  view, 

White  as  unfully'd  fnow; 
Two  columns  of  the  fame  fair  hue 

Support  the  dome  below. 

Its  walls  a  trickling  fountain  laves, 

In  which  fuch  virtue  reigns, 
That,  bath'd  in  its  balfamic  waves, 

No  lover  feels  his  pains. 

Before  th'  unfolding  gates  there  fpreads 

A  fragrant  fpicy  grove, 
That  with  its  curling  branches  {hades 

The  labyrinths  of  love. 

Bright  beauty  here  her  captives  holds, 

Who  kifs  their  eafy  chains, 
And  in  the  fofteft  clofeft  folds 

Her  willing  Caves  detains. 

Would'fl  thou,  who  ne'er  thefe  feas  haft  try'd, 

Find  where  this  ifland  lies, 
Let  pilot  love  the  rudder  guide, 

And  iteer  by  Chloc's  eyes. 


ON  A  NOSEGAY  IN  THE  COUNTESS  O 
COVENTRY'S  BREAST. 

ZN  IMITATION  OF  WALLER. 

DELIGHTFUL  fcene  !  in  which  appear 
At  once  all  beauties  of  the  year ! 
See  how  the  zephyrs  of  her  breath 
Tan  gently  all  the  flow 'rs  beneath  ! 
See  the  gay  flow'rs,  how  bright  they  glow, 
Though  planted  in  a  bed  of  Ihow ! 
Yet  fee  how  foon  they  fade,  and  die, 
^fiJci'ich'H  by  the  funflilne  of  hrr  eye! 
No  wonder  if,  o'ercome  with  blifs, 
•They  droop  their  heads  to  fleal  a  kifs ; 
Who  would  not  die  on  that  dear  breaft  ? 
Who  would  not  die  to  be  fo  bleft? 

THE  'SQUIRE  AND  THE  PARSON. 

AN    ECLOGUE. 

WRITTEN    ON    THE   CONCLUSION  OF  THE  PEACE 
I748. 

By  his  hall  chimney,  where  in  rufty  grate 
Green  faggots  wept  their  own  untimely  fate, 
In  elbow-chair  the  penlive  'Squire  reclin'd, 
Revolving  debts  and  taxes  in  his  mind : 
A  pipe  juft  fill'd  upon  a  table  near 
Lay  by  the  London-Evening  ftain'd  with  beer, 
With  half  a  Bible,  on  whofe  remnants  torn 
Each  parifh  round  was  annually  forfworn. 
The  gate  now  claps,  as  ev'ning  juft  grew  dark, 
Tray  ftam,  and  with  a  growl  prepares  to  bark ; 
But  foon  difcerning  with  fagacious  nofe  -\ 

The  well-known  favour  of  the  Parfon's  toes,       C 
Lays  down  his  head,  and  fmks  in  foft  repofe.     J 
The  do&or  ent'ring  to  the  tankard  ran, 
Takes  a  good  hearty  pull,  and  thus  began : 

Parfon. 
Why  fitt'fl  thou  thus   forlorn    and  dull     my 

friend, 

Now  war's  rapacious  reign  is  at  an  end  ? 
Hark,  how  the  diftant  bells  infpire  delight ! 
See  bonfires  fpangle  o'er  the  veil  of  nisht ' 

I  p  O 

ctquirc. 

What  peace,  alas !  in  foreign  p^rts  to  me  ? 
At  home,  nor  peace  nor  plenty  can  j  fee  . 
Joyiefs  I  hear  drums,  bells,  and  fiddles  found 
i  is  all  the  fame— Four  (hillings  in  the          d 
My  wheels,  though  old,  are  clogg'd  with  a  new 
tax;  raxe 

My  oaks,  though  young,  muft  groan  beneath   the 
My  barns  are  half  unthatch'd,  untyl'd  my  houfe ; 
Loft  by  this  fatal  ficknefs  ali  mv  cows: 
See  there's  the  bill  my  late  damn'd  lawfuit  coft ! 

Long  as  the  land  contended  for, and  loft: 

Ev'n  Ormond's  head  I  can  frequent  no  more, 
60  fhoit  my  pocket  is,  fo  long  the  fcore ; 
At  fhops  all  round  I  owe  for  fifty  things.— 
This  comes  of  tctching  Hanoverian  kings. 

Pf  ° 

arjcn. 

I  muft  confefs  the  times  are  bad  indeed ; 
JJo  wonder,  when  we  fcarce  believe  our  creed ; 
When  purblind  reaibn's  deem'd  the  fureft  guide, 
.And  beav'n-bcrn  faith  a:  her  tribunal  try'd  ; 


POEMS.  ion 

When  all  church-pow'r  is  thought  to  make  men 

flavcs, 
Saints,  martyrs,  fathers,  all  call'd  fools  and  knaves. 

Squire. 
Come,  preach  no  more,  but    drink,  and  hold 

your  tongue : 
I'm  for  the  church ; — but  think  the  parfon's  wrong. 

Parft*. 

See  there!  free-thinking  now  fo  rank  is  grown, 
It  fpreads  infection  through  each  country  town  ; 
Deiflic  feoffs  fly  round  at  rural  boards, 
'Squires,  and  their  tenants  too,  profane  as  lords, 
Vent  impious  jokes  on  every  facred  thing. 

'Squire. 
Come  drink  ;— 

Parfon. 
— Here's  to  you  then,  to  church  and  king. 

'Squire. 
Here's  church  and  king  ;  I  hate  the  glafs  fhoulii 

{land, 
Though  one  takes  tythes,  and  t'  other  taxes  land. 

Parfon, 

Heav'n  'with  new  plagues  will  fcourge  this"! 
finful  nation,  / 

Unlefs  we  foon  repeal  the  Toleration,  T 

And  to  the  church  reftore  the  Convocation.       J 

'Squire. 

Plagues  we  fhould  feel  fufficient,  on  my  word, 
Starv'd  by  two  houfes,  priefl-rid  by  a  third. 
For  better  days  we  lately  had  a  chance, 
Had  not  the  honeft  Plaids  been  trick' d  by  France. 

Parfon. 

Is  not  moft  gracious  George   our  faith's  de 
fender  ? 
You  love  the  church,  yet  wifh  for  the  Pretender ! 

Sjuire. 

Preferment,  I  fuppofe,  is  what  you  mean ; 
Turn  Whig,  and  you,  perhaps,  may  be  a  dean : 
But  you  muft  firft  learn  how  to  treat  your  betters. 
What's  here?   fure  fome  ftrange  news!    a  boy 

with  letters : 
Oh,  ho  !  here's  one,  I  fee,  from  parfon  Sly : 

My  rev'rend  neighbour  Squab    being  like  to 
die,  [hence, 

I   hope,  if   heav'n  fhould    pleafe  to  take   him 
To  afk  the  living  wou'd  be  no  offence." 

Parfon. 

Have  you  not  fwore  that  I  fhou'd  Squab  fucceed  ? 
Think  how  for  this  I  taught  your  fons  to  read  ; 
-low  oft  difcover'd  pufs  on  new-plow'd  land  ; 
"low  oft  fupported  you  with  friendly  hand, 
When  I  cou'd  fcarcely  go,  nor  cou'd  your 
fhip  ftand. 

'Squire. 
'Twas  yours,  had  you  been  honeft,  wife,  or 

civil ; 
>Iow  ev'n  go  court  the  bifliops  or  the  devil. 

Parfon. 

If  I  meant  any  thing,  new  let  me  die ;  "> 

'm  blunt,  and  cannot  fawn  and  cant,  not  I,         5. 
Jke  that  old  Prefbyterian  rafcal  Sly.  3 

am,  you  know,  a  right  trne  hearted  Tory, 
^ove  a  good  glafs,  a  merry  fong  or  ftory. 

'Squire. 

Thou  art  an  honeft  dog,  that's  truth  indeed— 
Talk  no  more  nonfenfe  then  about  the  creed, 
can't,  I  think,  deny  thy  firft  requeft ; 
ris  thine ;  but  firft  a  bumper  to  the  bed, 
2s  >J 


read  ; 
mcl;    ~y 

•  wor-  r" 


Soi  2 


THE   WORKS 


Parfon. 
Moft  noble' 'Squire,  more  geu'rous  thin  your 

wine, 

How  pleafing's  the  condition  you  afllgn  ! 
Give  me  the  fparkling  glafs,  and  here,  d'ye  fee, 
W  ith  joy  I  drink  it  on  my  bended  knee : 
Great  queen  !  who  governeft  this  earthly  ball, 
And  mak'ft  both  kings  and  kingdoms  rife  and  fall; 
Whofe  wond'rous  pow'r  in  fecret  all  things  rules, . 
Makes  fools  of  mighty  peers,  and  peers  of  fools ; 
Difpenfes  mitres,  coronets,  and  ftars ; 
Involves  far  diftant  realms  in  bloody  wars, 
Then  bids  the  fnaky  treffes  ceafe  to  hifs, 
And  gives  them  peace  again— —  *  nay  gav'ft  us 

this ; 

Whofe  health  does  health  to  all  mankind  impart, 
Here's  to  thy  much-lov'd  health :— - 
•Squire,  rubbing  his  hands. 
With  all  my  heart. 

ON  THE  IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 

Translated  from  the  Latin  of  Jfuac  Haivkins  Braicne^ 

•¥?• 

BOOK  I. 

A  o  all  inferior  animals  'tis  giv'n 

T'  enjoy  the  ftate  allotted  them  by  Heav'n  ; 

No  vain  refearches  e'er  difturb  their  reft, 

No  fea.rs  of  dark  futurity  moleft. 

Man,  only  man    felicitous  to  know 

The  fprings  whence  nature's  operations  flow, 

Plods  through  a  dreary  wafte  with  toll  and  pain, 

And  reafons,  hopes,  and  thinks,  and  lives  in  vain ; 

For  fable  death  ftill  hovering  o'er  his  head, 

Cuts  fliort  hisprogrefs,  with  his  vital  thread. 

Wherefore,  fince  nature  errs  not,  do  we  find, 

Thefe  feeds  of  fcience  in  the  human  mind, 

If  no  congenial  fruits  are  predcfign'd  ? 

For  what  avails  to  man  this  pow'r  to  roam 

Through  ages  paft,  and  ages  yet  to  come, 

T'  explore  new  worlds  o'er  all  th*  etherial  way, 

Chain'd  to  a  fpot,  and  living  but  a  day  ? 

Since  all  muft  perifli  in  one  common  grave, 

Nor  can  thefe  long  laborious  fearches  fave, 

Were  it  not  wifer  far,  fupinely  laid, 

To  fport  with  Phillis  in  the  noontide  {hade  ? 

Or  at  thy  jovial  feftivals  appear. 

Great  Bacchus,  who  alone  the  foul  can  clear 

From  all  that  it  has  felt,  and  all  that  it  can  fear  ? 

Come  on  then,  let  us  feaft ;.  let  Chloe  fmg, 
And  foft  Neaera  touch  the  trembling  ftringJ; 
Enjoy  the  prefent  hour,  nor  fcek  to  know 
What  good  or  ill  to-morrow  may  beftow. 
But  thefe  delights  foon  pall  upon  the  tafte  ; 
Let's  try  then  if  more  ferious  cannot  laft  : 
Wealth  let  us  heap  on  wealth,  or  fame  purfue, 
Let  pow'r  and  glory  be  our  points  in  view  ; 
In  courts,  in  camps,  in  fenatcs  let  us  live, 
Our  levees  crowded  like  the  buzzing  hive : 
Each  weak  attempt  the  fame  fad  leffbn  brings ! 
Alas !  what  vanity  in  human  things  ! 

What  means  then  fliall  we  try  ?  where  hone  to 

find 
A  friendly  harbour  for  the  reftlefs  mind  ? 

*  Madam  de  P—mf—dour, 


c  : 

,5 


OF  JENYNS. 

Who  itili,  you  lee,  impatient  to  obtain 
knowledge  immenfe,  (fo  Nature's  laws  ordain) 
iv'n  now,  though  fetter'd  in  corporeal  clay, 

limbs  ftep  by  ftep  the  profpcd  to  furvey, 
And  fecks  unwearied  truth's  eternal  ray. 
to  fleeting  joys  {he  aflcs  which  muft  depend 
O.i  the  frail  i'enfes,  and  with  them  muft  end; 
Jut  fuch  as  fuit  her  own  immortal  fame, 
Fr_jc  from  all  change,  eternally  the  fame. 

Take  courage  then,  thefe  joys  we  fliall  attain  ; 
Almighty  wifdotn  never  acts  in  vain  ; 
Nor  (hail  the  foul,  on  which  it  has  beftow'd 
S  ich  pow'rs,  e'er  peri'h  like  an  earthly  ciod  ; 
B.'t  purg'd  at  length  from  foul  corruption's  ftain,"^ 
Freed  from  her  prifon  and  unbound  her  chaih,    f 
She  fhall  her  uat^e  ftrength  and  native  fkies  re-C 
gain;  3 

To  heav'n  an  old  inhabitant  return,         [tual  urr. 
And  draw  neclareous  ftreams  from  trutli's  perpc- 

Whilft  life  remains,  (if  life  it  can  be  call'd 
T'  exift  in  flefiily  bondage  thus  enthrall'd) 
Tir'd  with  the  dull  purfuit  of  worldly  things, 
The  foul  fcarce  wakes,  or  opes  her  gladfome  wing?,. 
Yet  flill  the  godlike  exile  in  difgrace 
Retains  fome  marks  of  her  celeftial  race ; 
Elfe  whence  from  mem'ry's  ftore  can  flic  produce 
Such  various  thoughts,  or  range  them  fo  for  ufe  ? 
Can  matter  thefe  contain,  difpofe,  apply  ? 
Can  in  her  cells  fuch  mighty  treafures  lie  ? 
Or  can  her  native  force  produce  them  to  the  eye  ?_ 
Whence  is  this  pow'r,  this  foundrefs  of  all  arts, 
Serving,  adorning  life,  through  all  its  parts, 
Which  names  impend,  by  letters  niurk'd'thofe 

names, 

Adjufteu  properly  by  legal  claims, 
From  woods  and  wilds  collected  rude  mankind, 
And  cities,  law;-  and  governments  defign'd  ? 
What  can  this  be,  but  fome  bright  ray  from  heav'n^ 
Some  emanation  from  Omnifcience  given  ? 

When  now  the  vapid  ftroam  of  eloquence 
Bears  all  before  it,  paflion,  reafon,  fenfe, 
Can  its  dread/  thunder,  or  its  lightning's  force 
Derive  their  cfience  'rom  a  mortal  fource  ? 
What  think  you  of  the  bard's  enchanting  art, 
Which,  whether  he  attempts  to  warm  the  heart 
With  fabled  icenes,  or  charm  the  ear  with  rhynify 
Breathes  all  pathetic,  lovely,  and  fublime  ? 
Whilft  things  on  earth  roll  round  from  age  to  age^ 
The  fame  dull  farce  Repeated  on  the  ftage, 
The  poet  gives  us  a  creation  new, 
More  pleating,  and  more  perfect  than  the  true  ; 
i  he  mind,  who  always  to  perfection  hades, 
Perfection  fuch  as  here  fhe  never  taftes, 
With  gratitude  accepts  the  kind  deceit, 
And  thence  forefees  a  fyflem  more  complete. 
Of  thofe  what  think  you,  who  the  circling  race  "1 
Of  funs,  and  their  revolving  planets  trace,  ( 

And  comets  journeying   through    unbounded  l" 
fpace  ?  j 

Say,  can  you  doubt,  but  that  th'  all-fearching  foul, 
That  now  can  traverfe  heav'n  from  pole  to  pole, 
From  thence  defcending  vifits  but  this  earth, 
And  fhall  once  more  regain  the  regions  of  her 

birth  ? 

Cou'd  (he  thus  a<5t,  unlefs  fome  power  unknown, 
From  matter  quite  diftincl:  and  all  her  own, 
Supported,  and  impcll' d  her  ?  She  approves 
Stif-confcious,  and  condemns  j  fhe,  hates -and  lovest 


POEMS. 


1013 


Mourns  and  rejoices,  hopes  and  is  afraid, 
Without  the  body's  unrequefted  aid  : 
Her  own  internal  flrength  her  reafon  guides, 
By  tins  (he  now  compares  things,,  now  divides; 
Truth's  fcatu-r'd  fragments  piece  by  piece  colled?, 
Rejoins,  and  thence  her  edifice  cretts ; 
Piles  arts  on  arts,  effec-ts  to  caufes  ties, 
And  rears  the  afpiring  fabric  to  the  ikies  ; 
From  whence,  as  on  a  diftant  plain  below, 
She  Ices  from  caufes  confluences  flow, 
And  the  whole  chain  diftintftly  comprehends, 
Which  from  the  Almighty's  throne  to  earth  de- 

fcends : 

And  laftly,  turning  inwardly  her  eyes, 
Perceives  how  all  her  own  ideas  rife, 
Contemplates  what  fhe  is,  and  wnence  fhe  came. 
And  almoft  comprehends  her  own  amazing  frame. 
C;m  mere  machines  be  with  fuch  pow'rs  endu'd, 
Or  confcious  of  thofe  pow'rs,  fuppofe  they  cou'd  ? 
For  body  is  but  a  machine  alone 
Mov'd  by  external  force,  and  impulfe  not  its  own. 
/     Rate  not  th'  extenfion  of  the  human  mind 
PBy  the  plebeian  ftandard  of  mankind, 
I  But  by  the  fize  of  thofe  gigantic  few 
Whom  Greece  and  Rome  ftill  offer  to  our  view, 
Or  Britain,  well  deferving  equal  praife, 
Parent  of  heroes  too  in  better  days. 
Why  fhou'd  I  try  her  numerous  fonsto  name, 
By  verfe,  law,  eloquence  confign'd  to  fame ; 
Or  who  have  forc'dfair  fcience  into  fight, 
Long  loft  in  darknefs,  and  afraid  T>f  light  ? 
O'er  all  fuperior,  like  the  folar  ray, 
Firft  Bacon  ufhcr'd  in  the  dawning  day, 
And  drove  the  mifls  of  fophiflry  away  ; 
Pervaded  nature  with  amazing  force 
Following  experience  ftill  throughout  his  courfe, 
And  finuhing  at  length  his  deuin'd  way, 
To  Newton  he  bcqueath'd  the  radiant  lamp  of  day. 

Illuftrious  fouls!   if  any  tender  cares 
Affect  angelic  brcafts  for  man's  affairs, 
!!'  in  your  prefcnt  happy  heav'nly  flate, 1 
You're  not  regardlefs  quite  of  Britain's  fate, 
1  .et  this  degenerate  land  again  be  bleft 
With  that  true  vigour  which  fhe  once  pofleft ; 
Compel  us  to  unfold  our  fltjmb'ring  eyes. 
And  to  our  ancient  dignity  to  rile. 
Such  wond'rous  pow'rs  as  thefe  muft  fure  begiv'n 
For  moft  important  purpofes  by  Hcav'n ; 
Who  bids  thefe  ftars  as  bright  examples  mine,     * 
Befprinkled  thinly  by  the  hand  divine, 
To  form  to  virtue  each  degenerate  time, 
And  point  out  to  the  foul  its  origin  fubiime. 
That  there's  a  felf  whtclj  after  death  lhail  live, 
All  are  concern 'd  about,  and  all  believe  ; 
That  fomething's  ours,  when  we  from  life  depart, 
This  all  conceive,  all  feel  it  at  the  heart; 
The  wife  of  learn'd  antiquity; proclaim 
This  truth,  the  public  voice  declare*  the  fame ; 
No  land  fo  rude  but  looks  beyond  the  tomb 
For  future  profpe<5ts  in  a  world  to  come. 
Hence,  without  hopes  to  be  in  life  repaid, 
We  plant  Cow  oaks  pofterity  to  fhade ; 
And  hence  vaft  -pyramids  afpiring  high 
Lift  their  proud  heads  aloft,  and  time  defy. 
Hence  is  our  love  of  fame ;  a  love  fo  ftrong, 
We  think  no  dangers  great,  or  labours  long, 
By  "which  we  hope  our  beings  to  extend, 
And  to  remoteft  times  in  glory  to  defccnd. 


For  f.une  ths  wretch  beneath  the  gallows  lies, 
Difowning  every  crime  for  which  he  dies; 
Of  life  profufc,  tenacious  of  a  name, 
Fearlels  of  death,  and  yet  afraid  of  fhame. 
Nature  has  wove  into  the  human  mind 
This  anxious  care  for  names  we  leave  behind, 
T"  extend  our  narrow  views  beyond  the  tomb, 
And  triv'j  an  earned  of  a  life  to  come  : 
For  if  when  dead  we  are  but  daft  or  clay, 
Why  think  of  what  pofterity  lhall  fay  ? 
Her  praife  or  cenfure  cannot  us  concern, 
Nor  ever  penetrate  the  filent  urn. 

What  mean  the  nodding  plumes,   the  fun'ral 

train, 

And  marble  monument  that  fpeaks  in  vain, 
With  all  thofe  cares  which  ev'ry  nation  pays 
To  their  unfeeling  dead  in  diff 'rent  ways ! 
Some  in  the  flower-ftrewn  grave  the  corpfe  have"! 
lay'd,  C 

And  annual  obfequies  around  it  pay'd,  I 

As  if  to  pleafe  the  poor  departed  fhade  ;  J 

Others  on  blazing  piles  the  body  burn, 
And  ftore  their  afhes  in  the  faithful  urn ; 
But  all  in  one  great  principle  agree, 
To  give  a  fancy'd  immortality. 
Why  fhou'd  I  mention  thofe,  whofe  ouzy  foil 
Is  render'd  fertile  by  the  o'erflowing  Nile  ? 
Their  dead  they  bury  not,  nor  burn  with  fires, 
No  graves  they  dig,  erect  no  fun'ral  pires, 
But  wafhing  firft  th'  embowel'd  body  clean, 
Gums,  fpice,  and  melted  pitch  they  pour  within ; 
Then  with  ftrong  fillets  bind  it  round  and  round, 
To  make  each  flaccid  part  compact  and  found ; 
And  laftly  paint  the  varnifh'dfurface  o'er 
With  the  fame  features  which  in  life  it  wore  : 
So  ftrong  their  prefage  of  a  future  ftate, 
And  thru  our  nobler  part  furvives  the  body's  fate. 

Nations  behold,  remote  from  reafon's beams, 
Where  Indian  Ganges  rolls  his  fandy  ftreams, 
Of  life  impatient  rufh  into  the  fire, 
And  willing  victims  to  their  god*  expire  ! 
Pcrfuaded  the  loos'd  foul  to  regions  flics, 
Blet  with  eternal  fpring,  and  cloudlefs  Ikies. 

Nor  is  Icfs  fara'd  the  oriental  wife 
For  ftcdfaft  virtue,  and  contempt  of  life : 
Thefe  heroines  mourn  not  with  loud  female  cries 
Their  hufbands  loft,  or  with  o'erflowing  eyes; 
But,  ftrange  to  tell !  their  funeral  piles  afcend, 
And. in  the  fame  fad  flames  their  forrows  end; 
In  hopes  with  them  beneath  thefhades  to  rove, 
Vnd  there  ninety  their  interrupted  love. 

In  climes  -vhere  Boreas  breathes  eternal  cold, 
See  num'rous  nations,  warlike,  fierce,  and  bold, 
To  battle  all  unanimdufly  run, 
Nor  fire,  nor  fword,  nor  inftant  death  they  fhun. 
Whence  thisdifdain  of  life  in  eve'ry  breaft, 
But  from  a  notion  on  their  minds  impreft, 
Tliat  all  who  for  their  country  die,  are  bleft  ? 
Add  too  to  thefe  the  once-prevailing  dreams ; 
Of  fweet  I'.lyfian  groves,  and  Stygian  ftreams ; 
All  fhow  with  what  confent  mankind  agree 
In  the  firm  hope  of  immortality. 
Grant  thefe  inventions  of  the  crafty  prieft, 
Yet  fuch  inventions  never  cou'd  fubfift, 
Unlefs  fotne  glimmerings  of  a  future  ftate 
Were  with  the  mind  coasval,  and  innate ; 
For  ev'ry  fiction  which  can  long  perfuadc, 
In  truth  nuift  have  its  firft  foundations  laid. 
3  S  iij 


1014 


THE   WORKS 


Becanfe  we  are  unable  to  conceive 
How  unembody'd  fouls  can  act,  and  live, 
The  vulgar  give  them  forms,  and  limbs,  and  faces, 
And  habitations  in  peculiar  places : 
Hence  reas'ners  more  refin'd,  but  not  more  wife, 
Struck  with  the  glare  of  fuch  abfardities, 
Their  whole  exiftence  fabulous  fufpect, 
And  truth  and  lalfehood  in  a  lump  reject ; 
Too  indolent  to  learn  what  may  be  known, 
Or  elfe  too  proud  that  ignorance  to  own. 
For  hard's  thetafk  the  daubing  to  pervade 
Folly  and  fraud  on  truth's  fair  form  have  laid : 
Yet  let  that  talk  be  our's;  for  great  the  prize;  ~) 
Nor  let  us  truth's  celeftial  charms  defpife,  > 

Ikcaufe  that  prieils  or  poets  may  dilguife.  j 

That   there's  a   God,  from  nature's  voice  is 

clear; 

And  yet  what  errors  to  this  truth  adhere  ? 
How  have  the  fears  and  follies  of  mankind         "1 
Now  multiply'd  their  gods,  and  now  fubjoin'd    > 
To  each  the  frailties  of  the  human  mind  ?          J 
Nay  fuperflition  fpread  at  length  fo  wide, 
Beads,  birds,  and  onions  too  were  deify'd. 

Th'  Athenian  fage,  revolving  in  his  mind 
This  weaknefs,  blindnefs,  madnefs  of  mankind, 
Foretold,  that  in  maturer  days,  though  late, 
When  time  fliould  ripen  the  decrees  of  fate, 
Some  God  would  light  us,  like  the  rifing  day, 
Through  errors  maze,  and  chafe  thefe  clouds  a- 

way. 

Long  fmce  has  time  fulfill'd  this  great  decree, 
And  brought  us  aid  from  this  divinity. 

Well  worth  our  fearch  difcoveries  may  be  made 
By  nature,  void  of  this  celeftial  aid  : 
Let's  try  what  her  conjectures  then  can  reach, 
Nor  fcorn  plain  reafon,  when  fhe  deigns  to  teach. 

That  mind  and  body  often  fympathize, 
Is  plain  ;  fuch  is  this  union  nature  ties : 
But  then  as  often  too  they  difagree, 
Which  proves  the  foul's  Superior  progeny. 
Sometimes  the  body  in  full  ftrength  we  find, 
Whilft  various  ails  debilitate  the  mind  ; 
At  others,  whilft  the  mind  its  force  retains, 
The  body  finks  with  ficknefs  and  with  pains : 
Now,  did  one  common  fate  their  beings  end, 
Alike  they'd  ficken,  and  alike  they'd  mend. 
But  fure  experience,  on  the  Cighteft  view, 
Shows  us,  that  the  reverfe  of  this  is  true ; 
For  when  the  body  oft  expiring  lies, 
Its  limbs  quite  fenfelefs,  and  half  clos'd  its  eyes, 
The  mind  new  force  and  eloquence  acquires, 
And  with  prophetic  voice  the  dying  lips  infpires. 

Of  like  materials  were  they  both  compos'd, 
How  comes  it  that  the  mind,  when  fleep  has  clos'd 
Each  avenue  of  fenfe,  expatiates  wide, 
Her  liberty  reftor'd,  her  bonds  unty'd  ? 
And  like  fome  bird  who  from  its  prifcn  flies, 
Claps  her  exulting  wings,  and  mounts  the  fkies. 

Grant  that  corporeal  is  the  human  mind, 
It  muft  have  parts  in  infinitum  join'd  ;       ' 
And  each  of  thefe  muft  wUl,  perceive,  defign, 
And  draw  confus'dly  in  a  diff  'rent  line ; 
Which  then  can  claim  dominion  o'er  the  reft, 
Or  ftamp  the  ruling  paflion  in  the  breaft  ? 

Perhaps  the  mind  is  form'd  by  various  arts 
Of  modelling  and  figuring  thefe  parts; 
Juft  as  if  circles  wifer  were  than  fquares: 
«ut  furely  common  icnfe  aloud,  declares 


OF   JENYNS. 

That  fite  and  figure  are  as  foreign  quite 

From  mental  pow'rs,  as  colours  black  or  white. 

Allow  that  motion  is  the  caufe  of  thought, 
With  what  ftrange  pow'rs  muft  motion  then  be 

fraught  ? 

Reafon,  fenfe,  fcience  muft  derive  their  fource 
From  the  wheel's  rapid  whirl,  or  pully's  force  ; 
Tops  whipp'd  by  fchool-boys  fages  muft  com- "1 
mence,  I 

Their  hoops,  like  them,  be  cudgell'd  into  fenfe,  f 
And  boiling  pots  o'erflow  with  eloquence.          J 
Whence  can  this  very  motion  take  its  birth ; 
Not  fure  from  matter,  from  dull  clods  of  earth  : 
But  from  a  living  fpirit  lodg'd  within, 
Which  governs  all  the  bodily  machine : 
Juft  as  th'  Almighty  Univerfal  Soul 
Informs,  directs,  and  animates  the  whole. 

Ceale  then  to  wonder  how  th'  immortal  mind 
Can  live,  when  from  the  body  quite  disjoin'd ; 
But  rather  wonder,  if  fhe  e'er  could  die, 
So  fram'd,  fo  fafliion'd  for  eternity; 
Self-mov'd,  not  form'd  of  parts  together  ty'd, 
Which  time  can  difiipate,  and  force  divide  ; 
For  beings  of  this  make  can  never  die, 
Whofe  pow'rs  within  thernfelves  and  their  own 
effence  lie. 

If  to  conceive  how  any  thing  can  be 
From  fhape  extracted  and  locality 
Is  hard,  what  think  you  of  the  Deity? 
His  being  not  the  leaft  relation  bears, 
As  far  as  to  the  human  mind  appears, 
To  fhape  or  fize,  "fimilitude  or  place, 
Cioth'd  in  no  form,  and  bounded  by  no  fpace. 
Such  then  is  God,  a  Spirit  pure,  refin'd 
From  all  material  drofs ;    and  fuch  the  human 

mind. 

For  in  what  part  of  efTence  can  we  fee 
More  certain  marks  of  immortality  ? 
Ev'n  from  this  dark  confinement  with  delight 
She  looks  abroad,  and  prunes  herfelf  for  flight; 
Like  an  unwilling  inmate  longs  to  roam 
From  this  dull  earth,  and  feek  her  native  home. 

Go  then,  forgetful  of  its  toils  and  ftrife, 
PurUie  the  joys  of  this  fallacious  life  ; 
Like  fame  poor  fly,  who  lives  but  for  a  day, 
Sip  the  frefh  dews,  and  in  the  funlhine  play, 
And  into  nothing  then  difiblve  away. 
Are  thefe  our  great  purfuits  ?  Is  this  to  live  ? 
Thefe  all  the  hopes  this  much-lov'd  world  can 

give  ? 

How  much  more  worthy  envy  is  their  fate, 
Who  fearch  fer  truth  in  a  fuperior  ftate  ? 
Not  groping  ftep  by  ftep,  as  we  purfue, 
And  following  reafon's  much-entangled 
But  with  one  great  and  irrftantaneous  vie 

But  how  can  fenfe  remain,  perhaps  you'll  fay,~l 
Corporeal  organs  if  we  tak-e  away  ?  / 

Since  it  from  them  proceeds,   anid  with  them  f" 
muft  decay.  J 

Why  not  ?  or  why  may  not  the  foul  receive 
New  organs,  fince  ev'n  art  can  thefe  retrieve  ? 
The  filver  trumpet  aids  th'  obftructed  ear, 
And  optic  ghffesthe  dim  eye  can  clear; 
Thefe  in  mankind  new  faculties  create, 
And  lift  him  far  above  his  native  ftate ; 
Call  down  revolving  planets  from  the  fky> 
Earth's  fecret  tteafures  open  19  his  eye, 


i  LV>  . 

e'  ~) 

sd  clue,  i. 

.  view.  J 


POEMS. 


1015 


Th«-  whole  minute  creation  make  his  own, 
With  all  the  ivondersof  a  world  unknown. 

How  could  the  mind,  did  lhe  alone  depend 
On  fenfe,  the  errors  of  thole  I'enfes  mend  i 
Yet  ot't  we  lee  thole  feni'es  (lie  corrects, 
And  oft  their  information  quite  rejects. 
In  distances  of  things,  their  fhapeb  and  fize, 
Our  reatbn  judges  better  than  our  eyes. 
Declares  not  this  the  foul's  pre-eminence 
Superior  to,  and  qu:te  di'Hncl  from  fenfe  ? 
For  lure  'tis  liktly,  that,fince  now  fo  high 
Clogg'd  and  unfledg'd  Ihe  dares  her  wings  to  try, 
Loos'd  and  mature  (he  fha!l  her  ftrength  dit'play, 
And  foar  at  length  to  truth's  refulgent  ray. 

Inquire  you  how  thefe  pow'is  \ve  ihali  attain, 
*Tis  nut  for  us  to  know  ;  our  fearch  is  vain  : 
Can  any  now  remember  or  rehite 
How  he  exiited  in  the  embryo  ftate  ? 
Or  one  from  birth  infenlible  of  day 
Conceive  ideas  of  the  iblar  ray  ? 
That  light's  deny'd  to  him,  which  others  fee, 
He  knows,  perhaps  you'll  fay,— and  fo  do  we. 

The  mind  contemplative  ftnds  nothing  here 
On  earth  that's  worthy  of  a  wifli  or  fear  : 
He  whofe  fublime  purfuit  is  God  and  truth, 
Burns,  like  fome  abfent  and  impatient  youth. 
To  join  the  object  of  his  warm  dt  fires  ; 
Thence  to  feque  Iter'd  fliades,  and  ftreams  retires, 
And  there  deii^hts  his  paffion  to  rehearfe 
In  wjfdom's  utcied  voice,  or  in  harmonious  verfe. 
t       To  me  moft  happy  therefore  he  appears, 
Who  having  once,  unrnov'd  by  hopes  or  fears, 
Survey'd  this  fun,  earth,  ocean,  clouds,  and  flame, 
Weil  fatisfy'd  returhs  from  whence  lie  came. 
I*,  life  an  hundred  year,>,  or  e'er  fo  few, 
(  'Tis  repetition  all,  and  nothing  new  ; 

A  fair,    where  thoulands  meet,    but   none    can 

flay; 

An  inn,  where  travellers  bait,  then  poft  away  ; 
A  lea,  where  man  perpetually  is  tofV,  / 
Now  plung'd  in  bufmefs,  na  in  trifles  loft  : 
Who  leave  it  rirlt,  the  peaceful  port  firit  gain  ; 
Hold  then  '.  nor  farther  launch  into  the  main  : 
Contract  your  tails  ;  life  nothing  can  bellow 
By  long  continuance,  but  continued  woe  ; 
The  wretched  privilege  daily  to  deplore 
The  fun'rals  of  our  friends,  who  go  before  ; 
Diieafes,  pains,  anxieties,  and  cares, 
Ami  age  furrourdec!  with  a  thoufand  fnares. 

But  whither,  bury'd  by  a  gen'rous  fcorn 
Of  this  vain  world,  ah  whither  am  I  home  ? 
Let's  not  unbid  th'  Almighty's  iiandard  quit ; 
Howe'cr  fevere  our  poft,  we  mult  futrnit. 

Could  I  a  firm  perluafion  once  attain, 
That  after  drath  no  beii.g  v>ould  remain  ; 
To  thofc  daik  fliades  I'd  willingly  defect  d, 
Where  all  muft  deep,  this  drama  at  an  end, 
hlor  life  accept,  a>tlio  igh  n-.ncw'd  b)  fate, 
Ev'n  from  it-,  earlielt  and  its  happielt  ftate. 

Might  I  trom  fortune's  bounteous  hand  receive 
Each  boon,  each  oleffing  i;;  her  pow'r  to  give, 
Genius,  and  fcience,  morals,  and  good  fenfe, 
Unenvy'd  honours,  wit,  and  eloquence  ; 
A  nurn'rousoftsprLng  to  the  world  weli  known, 
Both  tor  paternal  virtues,  and   their  own  ; 
Ev'n  at  this  mighty  price  I'd  n  't  be  bound. 
To  tread  the  lame  dull  circle  round  and  round  ; 


The  foul  requires  enjoyments  more  fublime, 
By  fpace  unbounded,  undeftroy'd  by  time 


BOOK.  II, 

Goo  then  through  all  creation  gives,  we  find, 

Sufficient  marks  of  an  indulgent  mind. 

Excepting  in  ourfelves  ;  ourfelves  of  all 

His  works  the  chief  on  this  terre'tnal  ball, 

His  own  bright  image,  who  alone  unbleit 

Feel  ills  perpetual,  happy  ail  the  reit. 

But  hold,   prefumptuous  I    charge  not  Heaven's 

decree 
With  fudi  injuftice,  fuch  partiality. 

Yet  true  it  is,  furvey  we  life  around. 
Whole  holts  of  iiU  on  ev'ry  fide  are  found  ; 
Who  wound  not  here  and  there  by  chance  a  foe, 
But  at  the  fpecies  meditate  the  blow. 
What  millions  perilii  by  each  other's  hands 
In  war's  fierce  rage  :  or  hy  the  dread  commands 
Of  tyrants  languifh  out  their  lives  in  chains, 
Or  lofe  them  in  variety  of  pains? 
What  numbers  pinch'd  by  wai.i  and  hunger  die, 
In  i'pi.e  of  natures  liberality  ? 
(Thol'e,  ftill  more  num'rous,  J  to  name  difdain, 
By  lewdnefs  and  intemperance  jultly  fl  un) 
What  numbers  guiltief   ot  the'r  own  difeaie 
Arc  Inatch'd  by  fuoden  death,  or  waile  by  flaw 
degre;  s  ? 

Where  then  is  virtue's  well-r'eferv'd  reward?-- 
Let's  pay  to  virtue  ev'ry  due  regard ; 
That  fbe  enables  man,  let  us  contefs, 
To  bear  thdie  eviis  which  Ihe  can't  re^refs, 
Gives  hope,  and  confcious  peace,  and  can  aiTuage 
fh'  impetuoiu' tempests  both  of  hilt  a-.d  rage; 
Yet  flic's  a  guard  fo  far  from  being  fure, 
That  oft  her  friends  peculiar  ills  endure  : 
Where  vice  prevails  fevereft  is  their  fate, 
Tyrants  purfue  them  with  a  threefold  hate; 
How  many  Itrug^ling  in  their  country's  caufe, 
'>i:d  from  their  country  meriting  appiauie, 
Have  fall'n  by  wretches  fond  to  b<   fnfl.iv'd, 
And  pt nlh'd  by  the  hands  themfeives  had  fav'd? 

Soon  as  luperior  worth  appears  in  view. 
Sec  knaves  and  f  >ols  united  to  p-irfue  ! 
The  man  fo  torm'd  they  all  confpire  to  blame, 
\nd  envy's  poii'i.ous  tooth  ?ttacKS  his  fame  : 
Should  he  at  length  fo  truly  good  and  great, 
Prevail,  and  rale  with  honeu  views  the-  Itate, 
Then  mail  he  toil  for  an  ungrateful  race, 
Subniit  to  clamour,  libels,  and  tfifgrace, 
ThreaU-n'd,  oppos'd,  defeated  in  his  ends. 
By  fots  feditious,  and  afpirin^  frie.  ds. 
[!t-ar  tin-,  and  tremble  !   al]  who  would  he  great, 
Yet  know  not  what  attends  that  dang'rous  wretch 
ed  Itate. 

Is  private  life  from  all  thefe  evil*  free  ? 
Vice  of  all  kinds,  rage,  envy  there  we  iee, 
Deceit,  that  friend  (hip's  mnfk  infidious  wears, 
Quarrels  and  feuds,  and  law's  entangling  fnares. 

But  there  are  ple.j.fures  dill  in  human  life, 
Domeftic  eafe.  a  tender  ioving  wife, 
Children  whofe  dawning  (miles  your  heartengagffji 
The  grace  and  comfort  of  foft-'tealing  age  : 
If  happuiefs  exilt«,  'tis  furely  heie  ; 
But  are  thefe  jojs  exempt  from  care  and  fear? 


I01<J 

Need  I  the  miferies  of  that  ftate  declare, 
When  diff'rent  paffions  draw  the  wedded  pair  ? 
Or  fay  how  hard  thofe  pailions  to  difcern, 
Ere  the  dye's  caft,  and  'tis  too  late  to  learn  > 
Who  can  infure,  that  what  is  right,  and  good, 
Thefe  children  fliall  purlue  ?  or  if  they  fuoiild, 
Death  comes  when  lead  you  fear  ib  black  a  day, 
And  all  your  blooming  hopes  are  fnatch'd  away. 

\Ve  fay  not  that  thefe  ills  from  virtue  flow  ; 
Did  her  wife  precepts  ;ule  the  world,  we  know 
The  golden  ages  \vou!d  again  begin  ; 
But  'tis  our  lot  in  this  to  fufl'er,  and  to  fin. 

Obferving  this,  fome  fages  have  decreed, 
That  all  things  from  two  caufes  muft  proceed  ; 
Two  principles  with  equal-  pow'r  endn'd, 
This  wholly  evil,  that  fupremely  good. 
From  this  arife  the  mis'ries  we  endure, 
\7hilft  that  adminifters  a  friendly  cure  ; 
Hence  life  is  chequer'd  ftill  with  btifs  and  woe, 
Hence  tares  with  golden  crops  promifcuous  grow, 
And  pois'nous  ferpents  make  their  dreacl  repole 
Beneath  the  covert  of  the  fragrant  rofe. 

Can  fuch  a  fyftem  fatisfy  the  mind  ? 
/ire  both  thefe  gods  in  equal  pow'r  conjoin'd, 
Or  one  fuperior  ?     Equal  if  you  fay, 
Chaos  returns,  fince  neither  will  obey  : 
Is  one  fuperior  ?  good  or  ill  muft  reigo, 
Eternal  joy  or  everlafting  pain  : 
Which  e'er  is  conquer'd  muft  entirely  yield, 
And  the  victorious  god  enjoy  the  field  : 
Hence  with  thefe  fictions  of  the  magi's  brain  ! 
Hence  ouzy  Nile,  wit'h  all  her  monftr'uis  train  ! 

Or  comes  the  Stoic  nearer  to  the  right  ? 
He  holds,  that  wbatfoever  yields  dtlighr, 
Wealth,  fame,  externals  all,  are  uielels  things ; 
Himfelf  half-ftarving  happier  far  than  kings. 
'Tis  fine  indeed  to  be  fo  wond'rous  wife  ! 
By  the  fame  reafoning  too  he  pain  denies ; 
Roaft  him,  or  flay  him,  break  him  on  the  wheel, 
Retract  he  will  not,  though  he  can't  but  feel : 
Pain's  not  an  ill,  he  utters  with  a  groan  : 
What  then  ?    An  inconvenience  'tis,  he'll  own  ! 
What  vigour,  health,  and  beauty  ?  are  thefe  good  ?, 
No ;  they  may  be  accepted,  not  purfued  : 
Abfurd  to  fquabble  thus  about  a  name, 
(Quibbling   with  diff'rent  words  that  mean  the 

fame. 

Stoic,  were  you  not  fram'd  of  fiefh  and  blood, 
You  might  be  bleft  without  external  good  ; 
But  know,  be  felf-fuffitient  as  you  can, 
You  are  not  fpirit  quite,  but  frail  and  mortal  man. 

But  fince  thefe  fages,  fo  abfurdly  wii'e, 
Vainly  pretend  enjoyments  to  defpife, 
Becaufe  externals,  and  in  fortune's  pow'r, 
Now  mine,  now  thine,  the  bleffing  of  an  hour  ; 
Why  value,  then,  that  firength  of  mind  they  boaft, 
As  often  varying,  and  as  quickly  loft  ? 
A  head-ach  hurts  it,  or  a  rainy  day, 
And  a  flow  fever  wipes  it  quite  away. 

See  *  one  whofe  councils,  one  f  whofe  con- 

qu'ring  hand 

Once  fav'd  Britannia^  alrnoft  finking  land, 
Examples  of  the  mind's  extenfive  pow'r;  • 
.Examples  too  how  quickly  fades  that  fiow'r. 

*  Lord  Somers. 

i  f>uke  of  Marlbcroitgb. 


THE  WORKS    OF  JENYNS. 


Him  let  me  add,  whom  late  we  faw  excel 
\  In  each  politer  kind  of  writing  we-11 : 
Wietlwr  he  ftrove  our  follies  to  expofe 
In  eafy  verfe,  or  droll  and  hum'rous  profe  ; 
Few  vears,  ala*  !  compel  hi^  throne  to  quit 
This  mighty  monarch  o'er  the  realms  of  wit: 
See  I'elf-Uirviving  he's  an  idiot  grown  ! 
A  melancholy  proof  our  parts  are  not  our  own. 

Thy  tenets,  Stoic,  yet  we  may  forgive, 
If  in  a  future  ftate  we  ceafe  to  live. 
For  here  the  virtuous  fuller  much  'tis  plain, 
If  pain  is  evil,  this  muft  God  arraign  ; 
And  on  this  principle  confefs  we  muft, 
Fain  can  no  evil  be,  or  God  mult  be  unjuft. 

Blind  man  !  whofe  reafon  fuch  (trait  bounds"! 
confine,  f_ 

That  ere  it  touches  truth's  extremeft  line,  i 

It  ftops  amaz'd,  and  quits  the  great  defign.        J 
Own  you  not,  Stoic,  God  is  juft  and  true  ? 
Dare  to  proceed  ;  fecure  this  path  purfue  : 
'Twill  foon  conduct  you  farbeyctid  the  tomb, 
To  future  juftice,  and  a  life  to  come. 
This  path,  you  fay,  is  hid  in  endlefs  night ; 
'  Tis  feif-conceit  alone  obftru<Ss  your  light ; 
You  ftop  ere  half  your  dettin'd  courfe  is  run, 
And  triumph  when  the  c6nqueft  is  r.ot  won  1 
By  this  the  Sophifts  were  of  old  milled  ; 
See  what  a  monftrous  race  from  one  miftake  is 
bred  ! 

Hear  then  my  argument  :•. — Cortfefs  we  muft, 
A  God  there  is,  fupremely  wife  arid  juft: 
If  fo,  however  things  affect  our  fight, 
As  fings  our  bard,  whatever  is,  is  right.  - 
But  is  it  right  what  here  fo  ofc  appears, 
That  vice  fnould  triumph,  virtue  fink  in  tears? 
The  inference  then  that  clofes  this  debate, 
Is,  that  there  muft  exiit  a  future  Itate, 
The  wife  extending  their  inquiries  wide, 
See  how  both  ftates  are  by  connection  ty'cl  ; 
Fools  view  but  part,  and  not  the  whole  furvey, 
So  crowd  exifience  all  into  a  day. 
Hence  arc  they  led  to  hope,  but  hope  in  vain, 
That  juftice  never  will  refume  her  reign  ; 
On  this  vain  hope  adulterers,  thieves  reiy, 
And  to  this  altar  viie  afiaflins  fly. 
"  But  rules  not  God  by  general  laws  divine  : 
"  Mart's  vice  or  virtue  change  not  the  defign  :" 
What  laws  are  thefe  ?  Inftruct  us  if  you  can  : — 
There's  one  defign'd  for  brutes,  and  one  for  man: 
Another  guides  inactive  matter's  courle, 
Attracting,  and  attracted  by  its  force  : 
Hence  mutual  gravity  fubfiits  between 
Far  dtftant  wends,  and  ties  the  vail  machine. 

The  lavvs  of  life,  why  need  I  call  to  mind, 
Obey'd  by  birds  and  beafts  of  ev'ry  kind  .' 
By  all  the  fandy  defert's  favage  brood, 
And  all  the  num'rous  offspring  of  the  flood  ; 
Of  thefe  none  uncontroul'd  and  lawlefs  rove, 
But  to  fome  deftin'd  end  fpontaneous  move  : 
Led  by  that  infiinct  Heav'n  itfelf  infpires, 
Or  fo  much  reafon  as  their  ftate  requires  : 
See  all  with  fkill  acquire  their  daily  food, 
All  ufe  thofe  arms  which  nature  has  beftow'd ; 
Produce  their  tender  progeny,  aud  feed 
With  care  parental,  whilft  that  care  they  ne^ed  \ 

\  Dean  Swiff. 


} 


P    O    E 

Tn  thefe  lov'd  offices  completely  bleft, 

No  hopes  beyond  them,  nor  vain  fears  molefr. 

Man  o'er  a  wider  field  extends  his  views: 
God  through  the  wonders  of  his  works  purfues 
Exploring  thence  his  attributes  and  laws, 
Adores,  loves,  imitates  th'  Eternal  Caufe  ; 
For  fure  in  nothing  we  approach  fo  ni«!i 
The  great  example  of  divinity, 
As  in  benevolence  :  the  patriot's  faul 
Knows  not  felf-center'd  for  itfelf  to  roll, 
But  warms,  enlightens,  animates  the  whole  : 
Its  mighty  orb  embraces  firft  his  friends, 
His  country  next,  then  man ;  nor  here  it  ends, 
But  to  the  meaneft  animal  defcends.  J 

Wile  nature  has  this  facial  law  corifirm'd 
By  forming  man  fo  helplefs  and  unarm'd : 
His  want  of  others'  aid,  and  pow'r  of  fpeech 
T'  implore  that  aid,  this  lefTbn  daily  teach  : 
Mankind  \vithother  animals  compare, 
Single,  how  weak  and  impotent  they  are  ! 
Bur.  view  them  in  their  complicated  fEate, 
Their  pow'rs  how  wond'rcns,  and  their  itrettgth 

how  great, 

When  facial  virtue  individuals  joins, 
And  in  one'folid  mafs,  like  gravity  combines  ! 
Thistheu's  the  firil  great  law  by  nature  giv'n, 
Stamp'd  on  oar  fouls,  and  ratify'd  by  Heav'n  f 
All  from  utility  this  law  approve, 
As  ev'ry  private  blifs  muft  fpring  from  facial  love. 

Why  deviate  then  fo  many  from  this  law  ! 
See  paflions,  cuftom,  vice,  and  folly  draw  ! 
Survey  the  roiling  globe  from  «aft  to  weft, 
How  few,  alas !  how  very  few  are  bleft  ! 
Beneath  the  frozen  pole%  and  burning  line, 
What  poverty  and  indolence  combine  , 

To  cloud  with  error's  mifts  the  human  mind  ? 
No  trace  of  man,  but  in  the  form  we  rind. 

And  are  we  free  from  error  and  diftrefs. 
Whom  Heav'n  with  clearer  light  has  pleas'd  to 

blefs  ? 

Whom  true  religion  leads  !   (for  (he  but  leads 
By  foft  periuafion,  not  by  force  proceeds)  ; 
Behold  how  we  avoid  this  radiant  fun,  ~J 

This  proferr'd  guide  how  obftinately  fliun,          J- 
And  after  fophiitry's  vain  fyftems  run  !  _J 

For  thefe  ns  for  efl'entiah  we  engage 
In  wars  and  mailacres  with  holy  rage  ; 
Brothers  by  brothers'  impious  hands  are  (lain, 
Miftaken  zeal,  how  favage  is  thy  reign  ! 

Unpunifli'd  vices  here  fa  much  abound, 
All  right  and' wrong,  all  order  they  confound  ; 
Thefe  are  the  giants  who  the  gods  defy, 
And  mountains  heap  on  mountains  to  the  iky: 
Sees  this  th'  Almighty  Judge,  or  feeing  (pares, 
Atid  deems  the  crimes  of  man  beneath  his  cares? 
He  fees,  and  will  at  Lift  rewards  beftow, 
And  punifhments,  not  lefs  affur'd  for  being  (low. 

Nor  doubt  I,  though  this  ftate  confus'd  ap 
pears, 

That  ev'n  in  this  God  fometimes  interferes ; 
Sometimes,  left  man  fliould  quite  his  pow'r  dif- 

own, 

He  makes  that  pow'r  to  trembling  nations  known  : 
But  rarely  this  ;  not  for  each  vulgar  end, 
As  fuperftition's  idle  tales  pretend, 
Who  thinks  all  foes  to  G6d  who  are  her  own, 
.Directs  his  thunder,  and  ufurps  his  throne.   . 


MS.  1017 

Nor  know  I  not  how  much  a  confcious  mind 
Avails  to  pumfh,  or  reward  mankind  ; 
Ev'n  in  this  life  thou,  impious  wretch,  muft  feel 
The  fury's  fcourges,  and  th'  infernal  wheel  ; 
From  man's  tribunal  though  thou  hop'ft  to  run, 
Thyfelf  thou  canlt  not,  nor  thy  confcience  (hun: 
What  muft  thou  fuffer  when  each  dire  difeafe, 
The  progeny  of  vice,  thy  fabric  feize  ? 
Confumption,  fever,  and  the  racking  pain 
Of  fpafins,  and  gout,  and  (lone,  a  frightful  train  ' 
When  life  new  tortures  can  alone  fupply, 
Life  thy  fole  hope  thou'lt  hate,  yet  dread  to  die. 

Should  fuch  a  wretch  to  num'rous  years  arrive, 
It  can  be  little  worth  his  while  to  live  : 
No  honours,  no  regards  his  age  attend, 
Companions  ily  ;  he  ne'er  could  have  a  friend: 
His  flatterers  leave  him,  and  with  wild  affright 
He  looks  within,  and  (imddcrs  at  the  light  : 
When  threatening  death  uplifts  his  pointed  dart, 
With  what  impatience  he  applies  to  art, 
Life  to  prolong  amidft  difeafe  and  pains  ! 
Why  this,  if  after  it  no  fenfe  remains  ? 
Why  fhould  he  choofe  thefe  miferies  to  endure, 
If  death  could  grant  an  everlasting  cure  ? 
'Tis  pkin  there's  famething  whifpers  in  his  ear^ 
(Though  fain  he'd  hide  it)  he  has  much  to  fear. 

See.  the  reverie,  how  happy  thofe  we  find, 
Who  know  by  merit  to  engage  mankind  ? 
Prais'd  by  each  tongue,  by  ev'ry  heart  belov'd, 
For  virtues'  pradlis'd,  and  for  arts  improv'd; 
Their  eafy  afpects  fhine  with  fmiles  lerene, 
And  all  is  peace  and  happinefs  within  : 
Their  deep  is  ne'er  difturb'd  by  fears  or  ftrife, 
Nor  luft,  nor  wine,  impair  the  fprings  of  life. 

Him  fortune  cannot  (ink,  nor  much  elate,     I- 
Whofe  views  extend  beyond  this  mortal  ftate  ; 
By  age  when  fummon'd  to  refign  his  breath, 
Calm,  and  ferene,  he  fees  approaching  death,   > 
As  the  i'afe  port,  the  peaceful  filent  (hore, 
Where  he  may  reft,  life's  tedious  voyage  o'er  : 
He,  and  he  only,  is  of  death  afraid, 
Whom  his  own  confcience  has  a  coward  made  ; 
Whilfr  he  who  virtue's  radiant  courfe  has  run, 
Defcends  like  a  ferensly  fetting  fun, 
His  thoughts  triumphant  Heav'n  alone  employsl 
And  hope  anticipates  h.s  future  joys. 

So  good,  fa  bleit  th'  illustrious  *  Hough  we 

find, 

Whofe  image  dwells  with  pleaftire  on  my  mind  j 
The  mitre's  glory,  freedom's  confraiU  friend, 
In  times  which  alk'd  a  champion  to  defend- 
Who  after  near  an  hundred  virtuous  years, 
His  fenfes  perfect,  free  from  pains  and  fears, 
Replete  with  life,  with  honours,  and  with  age, 
Like  an  applauded  actor  left  the  (bage  ; 
Or  like  Tome  victor  in  th'  Olympic  games, 
Who,  having  run  his  courfe,  the  crown  of  glory 
claims. 

From  this  juft  contraft  plainly  it  appears, 
How  confcience  can  infpire  both  hopes  and  fears  : 
But  whence  proceed  thefe  hopes,  or  whence  this 

dread, 

If  nothing  really  can  affect  the  dead? 
See  all  things  join  to  promife,  and  preface 
The  fure  arrival  of  a  future  age  ! 


of  Worcejfer. 


iciS 


THE   WORKS 


Whafe'er  their  lot  is  here,  the  good  and  wife 
!Nor  doat  on  life,  nor  peevifhly  defpife. 
An  honeit  man,  when  fortune's  ftorms  begin, 
Has  confolaiion  always  fure  within  ; 
And  if  (lie  fends  a  more  propitious  gale, 
He's  pleas'd,  but  not  forgetful  it  may  fail. 
Nor  fear  that  he  who  fits  fo  loofe  to  life, 
Should  too  rtiuch  flum  its  labours,  and  its  ftrife  ; 
And,  Homing  wealth,  contented  to  be  mean, 
Shr.nk  from  the  duties  of  this  bulling  fctne  ; 
Or,  when  his  c<  untry's  fafety  claims  his  aid, 
Avoid  th-  fiiht,  inglorious  and  afraid  : 
"Who  icorns  life  moft  mult  furely  be  mod  brave, 
And  he  who  pow'r  contemns,  be  lean  a  flave  : 
V  i  tue  will  It  ad  him  to  ambition's  ends, 
Add  prompt   him  to  defend  his  country  and  his 

friends. 

But  It  ill  his  merit  you  can  not  regard, 
Who  thus  purlues  a  polt humous  reward  ; 
His  foul,  you  cry.  is  uncorrupt  and  great, 
"Who,  quite  uninfluenc'd  by  a  future  (late, 
Embraces  -virtue  from  a  nobler  fenfe 
Of  her  abttrafled,  native  excellence, 
From  the  feli-conftious  joy  her  efience  brings, 
The  beauty,  hti.els,  harmony  of  things. 
It  mav  be  l"o :   yt't  he  deferves  applaufe, 
V  ho  follows  where  initniclive  nature  draws; 
Aims  at  rewards  by  her  indulgence  giv'n, 
Ai  d  luars  trii.mphant  on  her  wings  to  heav'n. 

Sa\  what  this  venal  virtuous  man  purlues; 
Ko  mtnn    ewarcis,  no  mercenary  views; 
l^ioi  wealth  ulurious.  or  a  num'rous  train. 
Not  Jame  by  fraud  acquir'd,  or  title  vain  ! 
Ke  follows  but  w  here  nature  points  the  road, 
Riling  in  virtut  *s  iVhool,  till  he  afcends  to  God. 
But  we  th' inglorious  common  hrrd  of  man, 
Sail  without  compal>;  toil  without  a  plan; 
In  tortune's  varying  Itorms  for  ever  toft, 
Shadows  purhe,  (hbt  in  purfuit  arc  loft  ; 
Mere  infants  all  till  life's  extremeit  day, 
Scrambling  for  toys>  then  toffing  them  away. 
Who  refts  of  immortality  allur'd 
Is  1'afc,  whatever  ills  are  here  endur'd  : 
lie  hoj  es  not  vainly  in  a  world  like  this, 
To  meet  with  pure  unintetruptcd  blifs ; 
For  good  and  ill.  in  this  impr.rfedl  ftate, 
Are  ever  n-ix'cl  by  the  decrees  of  fate. 
W  ith  wifdom's  ncheft  harveft  felly  grows, 
And  baleful  hcmlork  mingles  with  the  rofe  ; 
All  things  are  bknded,  changeable,  and  vain, 
No  hope,  no  Wjfh  we  perfectly  obtain  ; 
God  may  perhaps  (might  human  reafon's  line 
Pretend  to  fathom  infinite  d-.fign) 
Have  thus  ordain'd  things,  that  the  reftlefs  mind 
Nohappinels  complete  on  earth  may  rind  ; 
And,  by  this  friendly  chaftil'ement  made  wife, 
To  He;.v'n  her'fafeft  beft  retreat  may  rife. 

Come  then,  lince  now  in  fafety  we  have  paft 
Through  error's  rocks,  and  fee  the  port  at  laft  ; 

Let  us  review  and  recolledl  the  whole. 

Thus  Hands  my  argument. The  thinking  foul 

Cannot  terreftrial,  or  material  be, 
But  claims  by  nature  immortality  ; 
God,  who  created  it,  can  make  it  end, 
We  quetlion  not,  but  cannot  apprehend 
He  u  ill :   becaufe  it  is  by  him  endued 
Wit"  ftrong  ideas  of  all  perfect  good ; 


OF  JENYNS. 

With  wond'rous  pow'rs  to  know  and  calculate 
Things  too  remote  from  this  cur  earthly  Hate 
With  fure  prefages  of  a  life  to  come; 
All  falfe  and  ufelefs,  if  beyond  the  tomb 
Our  beings  ceafe  :  we  therefore  can't  believe 
God  either  acts  in  vain,  or  can  deceive. 

If  ev'ry  rule  of  equity  demands, 
That  vice  and  virtue  from  the  Almighty's  hands 
Should  clue  rewards  and  punilhments  receive, 
A.nd  this  by  no  means  happens  whilft  we  live; 
It  follows,  that  a  time  mult  furely  come, 
When  each  fhall  meet  their  well-adjulted  doom: 
Then  fhall  this  fcene,  wbkh  now  to  human  light 
beemslb  unworthy  WHdom  Infinite, 
A  fyitem  ot  confummate  fkill  appear, 
And  ev'ry  clouu  difpers'd,  be  beautiful  and  clear. 

Doubt  we  of  this !  what  lolid  proof  remains, 
That  o'er  the  woild  a  wile  Difpofi-r  reigns? 
Whilft  all  creation  fpeaks  a  pow'r  divine, 
Is  it  deficient  in  the  main  delign  ? 
Not  fo  :  the  day  lhall  come,  (pretend  not  now 
Prefumptuous  toinquiie  or  when,  or  how, 
But)  after  death  fhall  come  th'  important  day, 
When  God  to  all  his  juftice  flialldilplay  ; 
liach  action  with  impartial  eyes  regard, 
And  in  a  juft  proportion  pumfh  and  reward. 


WRITTEN  IN  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 
THE  EAE.L  OF  OXFORD'S  LIBRARY  AT* 

WIMPLE  *,  1729. 

WHO,  uninfpir'd,  can  tread  this  facred  ground, 
With  all  the  Ions  of  fame  enu>mpafs'd  round  ? 
Where,  oown'd   with   wreaths  of  ever-verdant 

bays, 

Each  fifter  art  her  willing  charms  difplays: 
Mellow'd  by  time,  here  beauteous  paintings  glow  ; 
There  marble  bufls  illuflrious  faces  fhow  : 
And  in  old  coins  are  little  heroes  feen, 
With  venerable  ruit  ot  ages  green: 
Around,  unwoun.  ed  by  the  teeth  of  age, 
By  Gothic  fire,  and  perfecution's  rage, 
Ferfedi  and  iair  unnumber'd  volumes  (land, 
By  Providence  prelerv'd  for  Oxford's  hand. 

\Vliilft  thus  within  thefe  magic  walls  1  flray, 
At  once  all  climes  and  ages  1  lurvey: 
On  fancy's  wings  1  fly  from  fhore  to  fhore, 
Recal  ptift  time,  and  live  whole  eras  o'er : 

*  Wimfle-Hall,  -with  the  ejlate  round  if,  was  for 
merly  the  poffejj'.on  of  the  Cutts  family,  an  ancient  fa 
mily  in  the  county  of  Cambridge,  and  a  defcendani  of 
•which  inas  the  gallant  Lord  Cutts,  ivbo  fo  frequently 
dtfiir.gu'jLedhJmfif  in  tbefi-veralfiegcs  andbattks  dur 
ing  the  icar  in  -which  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborotgb 
commanded.— This  ejlate  was  fold  by  the  Cutts  family 
to  the  famous  Sir  'John  CutLr,  inho  fettled  it  on  the 
marriage  of  bis  daughter  -with  Lord  Radnor.  Lord 
Radnor  Jfteriuards  fold  it  to  John  Iloliis,  Dnte  cf 
NeivcftJUe,  in  the  partition  of  ivhcfe  ejlatcs  it  came  to 
the  Earl  cf  Oxfrd,  ivio  married  bis  only  daughter* 
J.  bis  he  made  his  country  refide/tce,  and  be:  e  iuas  kept 
his  famous  library  till  the  time  of  bis  dtaib.  After  hit 
death,  it  ivas  foil  b  his  Jamily  to  the  Chancellor  Lord, 
Hardii'icke,jrom  "whom  it  descended  te  the frefcnt  Earl 
hardivicte. 


POEMS. 


Converfe  with  heroes  fam'd  in  ancient  fong, 
And  bards,  by  •whom  thofe  heroes  breathe  io  long : 
Obferve  the  quick  migrations  learning  makes, 
How  harafs'd  nations  trembling  me  forl'akes, 
And  haftes  away  to  build  her  downy  neft 
In  happier  climes,  with  peace  and  plenty  bleft. 

See  how,  in  fam'd  Auguftus'  goldrn  clays, 
Wit  triumph's,  crown'd  with  univerfal  praife ! 
Approaches  thrones  with  a  majeftic  air, 
The  prince's  miftrefs,  and  the  ftatefman's  care. 
Mecanas  fhines  in  ev'ry  claflic  page, 
Mecaenas,  once  the  Harley  of  his  age. 
Nor  with  lefs  glory  flic  her  charms  difplay'd, 
In  Albion  once  when  Royal  Anna  fway'd. 
See  Oxford  fmiles  I  and  all  the  tuneful  -train, 
In  his  Britannia's  fons  revive  again ; 
Prior,  like  Horace,  ftrihes  the  founding  firings, 
And  in  harmonious  Pope  once  more  great  Mara 
fogs. 


Again  fhe  waves  her  pinions  to  be  gone, 
And  only  hopes  protection  from  his  Ion: 
Chas'd  from  the  fenate  and  the  court  flic  flies, 
There  craft  ancl  party  zeal  her  place  fupplies. 
Yet  ftill,  fince  fix'd  in  Wimple's  happy  plain, 
(Her  laft  retreat)  fhe  knows  not  to  complain. 
There  in  great  Oxford's  converfe  does  engage 
Th'  inftrucled  ear,  and  fhames  a  vicious  age; 
Or  in  his  confort's  accents  ftands  couieit, 
And   charms   with   graceful   cafe    each  lift'ning 

gueft; 

Or  with  her  lov'd  companions  gladly  tied, 
Goodnefs  fmcere,  and  beauty  void  of  prids, 
Fixes  her  throne  in  Margaretta's  *  face, 
And  from  her  lips  acquires  a  new  telilUefs  grace. 

*  Lady  Margaret   Ca-ve/iJ-Jb    ffarley, 
married  to  Wil'lidm,  tbefetond  Date  cf  Periia&t, 


BONFONIUS  *, 

BAS.  XI. 

Exoftat ft  jlorem  Ilium  eJJ~t,  quo  ittcritur  arnica, 
ERGO,  flofcuie,  tumex  puells 
Hoc  florente  finu  ufque  conquiefces? 
Ergo  tu  domiux  mcx  papillis 
Beatus  nimis  inCdebis  ulque  ? 
O  fi,  flofcuie,  mi  tua  liceret 
Ifta  forte  frui,  et  mex  puellx 
Incubare  finu,  atque  defidere 
Hos  inter  globulos-  papillularum, 
Non  fie  lentusinerlque  conquk-fcam, 
Non  fie  infideam  otiofus  ufque. 
Sed  toto  fpatio  iiiquictus  crrem, 
Et  feram  iinui,  feramque  coilo 
Mille  bafia,  mille  et  huic  et  illi 
Impingam  globulo  ofculationes. 

Nee  mihi  fatis  hxc  putes  Tutura  : 
Namque  et  difcere  curiofus  optem, 
Quid  difcriminis  inter  hunc  et  ilium, 
Et  quantus  tumor  hujus  illi  ufque ; 
Quantum  albedine  prxftet  hie  vel  ille  ; 
Quantum  duritie  hie  veliiie  vinr.at; 
Sinifterne  globus,  globufne  dexter 
Figura  placeat  rotundiore ; 
An  dexter  globus,  an  globus  finifter 
Papilla  rubeat  rubentiore: 
Explorcm  quoque,  quo  beata  ducat 
Ilia  femita,  qux  globes  gemellos 
Sic  difcriminat,  etfubeffe  clamat 
Mellitum  magis  eleganfque  quiddam  : 
Indagem  quoque,  quicquid  eft  latentis, 
Et  labar  tacitus,  fcrarque  fcnfim, 
Ufque  Cypridis  ad  beata  regna. 

At  mi  Pancharidis  mex  papillas 
Nee  fummo  licet  ore  fuaviari, 
Nee  levi  licet  attigiffe  palma. 
O  fortem  nimis  alperam  atque  iniquam ! 
Tantillumilla  negat  mihi  petenti, 
Tantillum  ilia  negat  mihi  fcienti ; 
Qux  tantum  huic  tribuit  nee  id  petenti, 
Qux  tantum  huic  tribuit  nee  id  fcienti. 

*  A  poet  of  thfjixteentb  century,  born  at  Cltrmont, 
fa  jlu'vtrgnC)  Lieutenant  General  tf  Bar  on  the  Siignc; 


TO  A  NOSEGAY  IN  PANCHARTLLA'S 
BREAST, 

WRITTEN  IN    17:7. 

MUST  you  alone  then, happy  fiow'rs, 

Ye  fhort-liv'd  Ions  of  vernal  fhow'rs, 

Muft  you  alone  be  ftill  thus  bleft. 

And  dwell  in  Pancharilla'sbreaft? 

Oli  would  the  gods  but  hear  my  pray'r, 

To  change  my  form  and  place  me  there ! 

I  fhould  not  fure  fo  quickly  die,  , 

I  fhou'd  not  fo  inactive  lie; 

But  ever  wand'ring  to  and  fro, 

From  this  to  that  fair  ball  of  fnon', 

Enjoy  ten  thoufand  thoufand  bliffes 

And  print  on  each  ten  thoufand  kiiles. 

Nor  would  I  thus  the  tafk  give  o'er  j 

Curious  new  fecrets  to  explore, 

I'd  never  reft  till  I  had 'found 

Which  globe  was  fofteft,  which  moft  rocnd— 

Which  was  moft  yielding,  fmooth,  and  white. 

Or  the  left  bofom  or  the  right ; 

Which  \vas  the  warmeft,  eafieft  bed. 

And  which  was  tip'd  with  pureft  red. 

Nor  cou'd  1  leave  the  bcauteons  fcene, 
Till  I  had  trac'd  the  path  between, 
That  milky  way  fo  fmooth  and  even, 
That  promifes  to  lead  to  heav'n : 
Lower  and  lower  I'ddefccnd, 
To  find  where  it  at  laft  wou'd  end; 
Till  fully  bleft  I'd  wand'ring  rove 
O'er  all  the  fragrant  Cyprian  grove. 

But  ah  !  thofe  wiflies  all  arc  vain, 
The  fair  one  triumphs  in  my  pain ; 
To  flow'rs  that  know  not  to  be  bleft. 
The  nymph  unveils  herfnovvy  brcaft; 
While  to  her  flave's  defiring  eyes, 
The  heav'nly  profpecl  fhe  denies: 
Too  cruel  fate,  too  cruel  fair, 
To  place  a  fenfelefs  nofegay  there, 
And  yet  refufe  my  lips  the  blifs 
To  tafte  one  dear  tranfparting  kif?» 


tvbo,  of  all  tit  moderns,  In  bis  Latin  poems  approactt; 
tLe  timreji  to  tlcgracet  cap,  andfoftneji  of  TiMlut, 


THE   WORKS 
GIVEN  TO  A  LADY 


With  a  Watch  nvhkhjhe  bad  borrowed  to  bang  y 
her  Be^s  Head. 


WHILST  half  afleep  my  Chloe  lie', 
And  all  her  fofteft  thoughts  arife  ; 
Whilft,  tyrant  honour  laid  at  reft, 
Love  fteals  to  her  unguarded  bread  ; 
Then  whifpcr  to  the  yielding  fair, 
Thou  witnefs  to  the  pains  I  bear, 
How  oft  her  Have  with  open  eves, 
All  the  long  night  defpairing  lies; 
Impatient  till  the  rofy  day 
Shall  once  again  his  beams  difplay, 
And  with  it  he  again  may  rile, 
To  greet  with  joy  her  dawning  eyes. 

Tell  her  as  all  thy  motions  ftand, 
UnleCs,  recruited  by  hef  hand, 
So  fliall  my  life  forget  to  move  ; 
Unlets,  each  day,  the  fair  I  love 
Shall  new  repeated  vigour  give 
With  fmiles,  and  make  me  fit  to  live. 
Tell  her,  when  far  from  her  I  ftray, 
How  oft  I  chide  thy  flow  delay  ; 
But  when  beneath  her  fmiles  1  live, 
Bleft  with  all  joys  the  gods  can  give, 
How  often  I  reprove  thy  hafte, 
And  think  each  precious  moment  flies  too  fart. 

BELPHEGOR  ; 

A  FABLE. 

From  Macbiavcl. 
-  "  Fugit  indignata  fub  umbras."  VIRG. 

TH'  infernal  monarch  once,  as  ftories  tell, 
Review'd  his  fubjeds  from  all  parts  of  hell  ; 
Around  his  throne  unnumber'd  millions  wait, 
He  fcarce  believ'd  his  empire  was  fo  great  ; 
Still  as  each  pafs'd,  he  afk'd  with  friendly  care 
What  crime  had  caus'd  their  fall,  and  brought 

them  there  : 

Scarce  one  he  queftion'd,  but  replied  the  fame, 
And  on  the  marriage  noofe  laid  all  the  blame; 
Thence  ev'ry  fatal  error  of  their  lives 
They  all  deduce,  and  ail  accufe  their  wives. 

Then  to  his  peers,  and  potentates  around, 
Thus  Satan  fpoke  :  hell  trembled  with  the  found. 

My  friends,  what  vaft  advantages  wou'd  flow  ' 
To  thefe  our  realms,  could  we  but  folly  know 
The  form  and  nature  of  thefe  marriage  chains 
That  fend  fuch  crowds  to  our  infernal  plains  ; 
Let  fomebold  patriot  then,  who  dares  to  fliow 
His  gen'rous  love  to  this  our  ftate  below, 
For  his  dear  country's  good  the  talk  efiay, 
And  animate  awhile  fome  human  clay  : 
Ten  years  in  marriage  bonds  he  fliall  remain, 
£njoy  its  pleasures,  and  endure  its  pain, 
Then  to  his  friends  return'd,  with  truth  relate 
The  nature  of  the  matrimonial  ftate. 

He  fpoke  ;  the  lift'ning  crowds  his  fcheme  ap- 

prov'd  : 

But  who  fo  much  his  prince,  or  country  lov'd 
As  thus,  with  fearlefs  heart,  to  undertake 
'I  his  hymeneal  ;riaj,  for  their  f^ke  ? 


OF   JENYNS. 

At  length  with  one  confent  they  all  propofe, 
That  fortune  fliall  by  lot  the  talk  impofe  ; 
The  dreaded  chance  on  bold  Belphegor  fell, 
Sighing  h'  obey'd,  and  took  his  leave  of  hell.      . 

Firft  in  fair  Florence  he  was  pleas'd  to  fix, 
Bought  a  large  houfe,  fine  plate,  a  coach  and  fix  ; 
Drefs'd  rich  and  gay,  play'd   high,  drank   hard, 

and  whor'd, 

And  liv'd  in  fhort  in  all  things  like  a  lord  i 
His  featts  were  plenteous,   and  his  wines  were 

ftrong, 

So  poet?,  prieUs,  and  pimps  his  table  throng, 
Bring  dedications,  fermons,  whores,  and  plays, 
The  dev'l  was  ne'er  fo  flatter'd  in  his  days  : 
The  ladies  too  were  kind,  each  tender  dame 
Sigh'd,  when  flie  mention'd  Roderigo's  name  ; 
For  fo  he's  call'd  :  rich,  young,  and  debonnair. 
He  reigns  fole  monarch  of  the  longing  fair; 
No  daughter,  lure,  of  Eve  could  e'er  efcape 
The  dev'l,  when  cloth'd  ia  fuch  a  tempting  fliape. 

One  nymph  at  length,  fuperior  to  the  reft, 
Gay,  beautiful,  and  young,  infpir'd  his  breaft  ; 
Soft  looks  and  fighs  his  paflion  foon  betray'd, 
Awhile  he  woos,  then  weds  the  lovely  maid. 
I  fliall  not  now,  to  grace  my  tale,  relate 
What  fearts,  what  balls,  what  dreffes,  pomp  ani 

ftate, 

Adorn'd  their nuptialday,  left  it  fliould  feera 
As  tedious  to  the  reader,  as  to  him, 
Who  big  with  expectation  of  delight, 
Impatient  waited  for  the  happy  night ; 
The  happy  night' is  come,  his  long-ing  arms 
Prefs  clofe  the  yielding  maid  in  all  her  charms, 
The  yielding  maid,  who  now  no  longer  coy 
With  equal  ardour  loves,  and  gives  a  loofe  to  joy's 
Diflolv'd  in  blifs  more  exquifite  than  all 
He  e'er  had  felt  in  heav'n,  before  his  fall, 
With  rapture  clinging  to  his  lovely  bride, 
In  murmurs  to  himfelf  Belphegor  cry'd  :  '  [fears  ? 
Are   thefe  the  marriage  chains?    are  thefe    my 
Oh  had  my  ten,  but  been  ten  thoufand  years  ? 
But  ah  thefe  happy  moments  lait  not  long  ! 
For  in  one  mcnth  his  wife  has  found  her  tongue, 
All  thoughts  of  love  asd  tendernefs  are  loft,° 
Their  only  aim  is,  who  fliall  fquander  molt; 
She  dreams  of  nothing  now  but  being  fine, 
Whilft  he  is  ever  gtizzling  nafty  wine  ; 
She  longs  far  jewels,  equipage,  and  plate, 
'Vnd  he.  fad  man  !  flays  out  fo  very  late  J 
Hence  ev'ry  day  domeftic  wars  are  bred, 
•  truce  is  hardly  kept,  while  they're  abed  • 
1  hey  wrangle  all  day  long;,  and  then  at  mVhr, 
'  .ike  wooing  cats,  at  once  they  love  and  fight. 

His  riches  too  are  with  his  quiet  flown, 
And  they  once  fpeiit,  all  friends  oa  courfe  are 

gone ; 

The  Aim  defi^n'd  his  whole  ten  years  to  laft, 
s  all  confum'd  Before  the  Hrft  is  pail : 
Mere  fliall  he  hide  ?  all  whither  mufl  he  fly  ? 
-.egions  of  duns  abroad  in  ambufh  lie, 
or  fear  of  them,  no  more  he  dares  to  roam, 
nd  the  worft  dun  of  all,  his  wife's  at  home. 
Quite  tir'd  at  length,  with  fuch  a  wretched  life, 
,e  Hies  one  night  at  once  fiom  debts,  and  wife; 
ut  ere  the  morning  dawn  his  flight  is  known ; 
J»d  crowds  purfue  him  clofe  from  town  to  town; 


POEMS. 


102 1 


He  quits  the  public  road,  and  wand'ring;  ft  rays 
Through  unfrequented  woods,  and  pathlefs  ways; 
At  lafl  with  joy  a  little  farm  he  i'.'c.s, 
"Where  liv'd  a  good  old  man,  in  health  and  cafe ; 
Matthew  his  name  :   to  him  Belphegor  goes, 
And  begs  protection  from  purfuhig  foes, 
With  tears  relates  his  melanchol)  cafe, 
Tells  him  from  whence  he  came,  and  who  he  was, 
And  vows  to  pay  for  his  reception  well, 
When  next  he  fhould  receive  his  rents  from  hell : 
The  farmer  hears  his  tale  with  pitying  ear, 
And  bids  him  live  in  peace,  and  fafety  there ; 
Awhile  he  did;  no  duns,  no  noife,  or  ftrife, 
Difturb'd  him  there  ; — for  Matt  had  ne'er  a  wife. 
But  ere  few  weeks  in  this  retreat  are  paft 
Matt  too  himfelf  becomes  a  dun  at  lafl. ; 
Demands  his  promis'd  pay  with  heat  and  rage, 
Till  thus  Belphegor's  words  his  wrath  afiwage. 

My  friend,  we  dev'ls,  like  Englifii  peers,  he 

cry'd, 

Though  free  from  law,  are  yet  by  honour  ty'J; 
Though  tradefmen's  cheating  bills  I  fcorn  to  view, 
I  pay  all  debts  that  are  by  honour  due; 
And  therefore  have  contrfv'd  long  fince  a  way, 
Beyond  all  hopes  thy  kindnefs  to  repay  ; 
WL  fubtle  fpirits  can,  you  know,  with  eafe 
Poffefs  whatever  human  breafts  we  pleafe, 
With  fudden  frenzy  can  o'ercait  the  mind, 
Let  paflions  loofe,  and  captive  reafon  bind: 
Thus  I  three  mortal  bofoms  will  infcft, 
And  force  them  to  apply  to  )  ou  for  reft ; 
Vaft  fums  for  cure  they  willingly  fhall  pay, 
Thrice,  and  but  thrice,  your  pow'r  1  will  obey. 

He  fpoke,  then  fled  unfeen,  like  rufhing  wind, 
And  breathlcfs  left  his  mortal  frame  behind  : 
The  corps  is  quickly  known,  and  ncWs  is  fpread 
That  Roderigo's  in  the  defert  dead ; 
His  wife  in  fafhionable  grief  appears, 
Sighs  for  one  day,  then  mourns  tw  o  tedious  years. 

A  beauteous  maid,  who  then  in  Florence  dwelt, 
In  a  fhort  time  unufual  fvmptoms  felt ;    -• 
Phyficians  came,  prefcnt'd,  then  took  their  fees, 
But  none  could  find  the  caufe  of  her  difcafe; 
Her  parents  thought  'twas  love  difturb'd  her  reft, 
But  all  the  leain'd  agreed  file  was  poffeft ; 
In  vain  the  doctors  all  their  art  apply'd, 
In  vain  the  priefts  their  holy  trump'ry  try 'd ; 
No  pray'rs  nor  mcd'cines  could  the  dxmon  tame, 
Till  Matthew  heard  the  news,  and  haft'ning  came : 
He  afks five  hundred  pounds;  the  money's  paid; 
He  forms  the  magic  fpeil,  then  cures  the  maid ; 
Hence  chas'd,  the  dev'l  to  rich  houfes  flies, 
And  makes  their  heirs  fucceffi  vely  his  prize, 
Who  both  by  Matthew's  fkill  reliev'd  from  pains, 
Reward  his  wond'rous  art  with  wond'rous  gains. 

And  now  Belphegor,  having  thrice  obey'd, 
With  reafon  thinks  his  hoft  is  fully  paid  ; 
Next  free  to  range,  to  Gallia's  king  he  flies, 
As  dev'ls  ambitious  ever  love  to  rife; 
Black  hideous  fcenes  diftrad  his  royal  mind, 
From  all  he  fecks  relief,  but  none  can  find, 
And  vows  vaft  treafures  fhall  his  art  repay, 
Whoe'er  can  chafe  the  Itrange  difeafe  away : 
At  length,  intruded  by  the  voice  of  fame, 
To  M:uJ,t .    { :nds  ;  poor  Matt  reluifhmt  came  ; 
He  knev\  Lis  po.v'r  expir'd,  refus'd  to  try, 
But  all  e*cuies  iaiTd,  he  mult,  or  die; 


At! 
App 


t  !aft  dffp^iriug  he  the  tafk  effay'd, 

r»proach'd  the  monarch's  ear.andwhifp'ringfaid: 

Since  force,  not  choice,  has  brought  thy  fervant 

here, 

Once  more,  Belphegor,  my  petition  hear, 
This  once  at  my  requeit,  thy  poft  refign, 
And.  fave  my  life,  as  once  1  refcu'd  thine. 

Cruel  Belphegor,  deaf  to  his  requeft, 
Difdain'd  his  pray'rs,  and  made  his  wees  a  jeft ; 
With  tears  and  fierhs  he  beg'd,  and  beg'd  again, 
Still  the  ungrateful  fiend  but  mock'd  his  pain; 
Then  turning  rourid  he  told  th"  expecting  court, 
This  dev'l  was  of  a  moft  malignant  fort; 
And  that  he  could  bat  make  one  trial  more,  - 
And  if  that  fail'd,  he  then  muft  give  him  o'er: 
Then   placing   num'rous   drums,   and   trumphet* 

round, 

Inftruclect  when  he  mov'd  his  hand  to  found, 
He  whifper'd  m  his  patient's  ear  again, 
Belphegor  anfwer'd  all  his  arts  were  vain  : 
He  gives  the  fign,  they  found  ;  th'  outrageous  dia 
Startles  the  king,  and  frights  the  dev'l  within ; 
He  ufks  what  'tis,  and  vows  that  in  his  life 
He  ne'er  had  heard  the  like — except  his  wife ; 
By  Heav'n's, 'tis  fhe, Matt  cries,you'd  beftbe  gone, 
She  comes  once  more  to  feize  you  for  her  own; 
Belphegor  frighted,  not  one  word  replies, 
But  to  th'  infernal  fhades  for  refuge  flies; 
There  paints  a  dreadful  fketch  of  marry'd  lives, 
And  feelingly  confirms  the  charge  on  wives: 
Matthew  oVrpaid  with  honours,  fame,  and  fees, 
Returns  to  bleft  obfcurity,  and  eafe, 
With  joy  triumphant  lo  P;ean  (ings, 
And  vows  to  deal  no  more  with  dev'ls  or  kings. 


A  DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN    THE    RIGHT    HON.  HENRY    PELHAM, 
AND    MADAM    POPULARITY*. 

IN  IMITATION  OF  HORACE,  BOOK  III.  ODE  IX. 

H.  Pelham. 

I.  WHILST  I  was  pleafing  in  your  eyes, 
And  you  wasconitant,  chafte,  and  wife; 
Ere  yet  you  had  your  favours  granted 
To  ev'ry  knave  or  fool  who  canted, 
In  peaceful  joy  1  pafs'deach  hour, 
Nor  envy'd  Walpole's  wealth  and  povv'r. 

Madam  Popularity. 
a.  While  I  poffefs'd  your  love  alone, 

My  heart  and  voice  were  ail  your  own; 
Buf  on  my  foul  'twould  vex  a  faint, 
When  I've  moft  reafon  for  complaint, 

*  From  the  commencement  of  the  Spanijb  ^var  (ti 
17^9,  to  the  treaty  of  JLix  la  Chapelle ,  Jigned  October 
7,  1748,  the  land  tax  ivas  raifed froii  tivo  (billings  t» 

four  JbMiiigs.  In  1749,  it  ti'as  lowered  to  three  Jkil- 
lings,  at  -which  rate  it  was  continued  till  1752,  -when 
Mr.  Pelbaui,  at  tbat  time  the  minijler,  reduced  it  to  ttv» 
/hillings,  at  ivhich  rate  It  continued  till  the  time  of  his 
death  in  1754.  this  ivas  ene,  amongjl  others,  of  tbofc 
popuLir  nieajures  ivbicb  gilded  the  evenir.j  of  this  mini* 

Jltr's  lift,  and  rendered  bis  death  an  objeft  of  public  la 
mentation.  To  this  event  ive  oiue  this  happy  imitation.^ 
woicfoon  after  the  land-tax  aei  of  'tlut  year  faj' 


1022 

To  hear  you  thus  begin  to  fcold  : 
Think  on  Britannia!  proud  and  old! 
Are  not  her  interefts  all  your  theme, 
Your  daily  labour,  nightly  dream  ? 
H.  Pdham. 

3.  My  juft  regard  I  can't  deny 
For  her  and  her  profperity ; 
JJor  am  afham'd  it  is  fo  great, 
That,  to  deliver  her  from  debt, 
From  foreign  wars  and  civil  ftrife, 
J'd  freely  facrifice  my  life. 

Madam  Popularity. 

4.  To  her  your  warmeft  vows  are  plighted, 
For  her  I  ev'ry  day  am  flighted  ; 

Her  welfare  always  is  preferr'd, 
And  my  neglected  voice  unheard: 
Examples  numerous  I  could  mention, 
A  peace  !  bad  as  the  old  convention ; 
A£oney  reduc'd  to  three  percent, 
N<  pity  on  the  poor  who  lent ; 
Armies  that  muft  for  ever  fland, 
And  ftill  three  {hillings  laid  on  land. 

H.  Pclham. 

5.  Suppofe  now,  Madam,  I  was  willing 
For  once  to  halt  this  grievous  fhilling, 
To  humour  you — I  know  'tis  wrong, 
But  you  have  fuch  a  curfed  tongue. 

Madam  Popularity. 

6.  Why  then,  though  rough  as  winds  or  feas, 
You  fcorn  all  little  arts  to  pleafe, 

Yet  thou  art  honeft,  faith,  and  I 
With  thee  alone  will  live  and  die. 

A  SIMILE. 

ORIKNA,  in  the  country  bred, ' 
Harbour'd  ftrange  notions  in  her  head, 
Notions  in  town  quite  out  of  fafliion  ; 
Such  as  that  love's  a  dangerous  paflion, 
That  virtue  is  the  maiden's  jewel, 
And  to  be  fafe,  flie  muft  be  cruel. 

Thusarm'd  ftie'ad  long  fecur'd  her  honour 
From  all  affaults  yet  made  upon  her. 
Had  fcratch'd  th'  impetuous  captain's  hand, 
Had  torn  the  lawyer's  gown  and  band, 
And  gold  refus'd  from  knights  andfquires 
To  bribe  her  to  her  own  defires : 
For,  to  fay  truth,  fhe  thought  it  hard, 
To  be  of  pleafures^thus  debarr'd, 
She  faw  by  others  freely  tailed, 
So  pouted,  pin'd,  grew  pale,  and  wafted : 
Yet,  notwithftanding  her  condition, 
Continu'd  firm  in  oppofition. 

At  kngth  a  troop  of  horfe  came  down, 
And  quartered  in  a  neighb'ring  town ; 
The  cornet  he  was  tall  and  young, 
And  had  a  moft  bewitching  tongue. 
They  faw  and  lik'd  :  the  flege  begun : 
Each  hour  he  feme  advantage  won. 
He  ogled  firft ;— fhe  turn'd  away  ;— 
But  met  his  eyes  the  following  day; 
Then  her  reluctant  hand  he  feizes, 
Thatfoon  fhe  gives  him,  when  he  pleafes: 
Her  ruby  lips  he  next  attacks  :— 
She  ftruggles ; — in  a  while  flic  fmacks : 
Her  fnowy  bread  he  then  invades;— 
That  yields  too  after  fouic  parades  j. 


THE   WORKS   Of    JENYNS. 


And  of  that  fortrefs  once  poffeft, 
He  quickly  mafters  all  the  reft. 
No  longer  now,  a  dupe  to  fame, 
She  fmothers  or  refifts  her  flame, 
But  loves  without  or  fear  or  fhame. 

So  have  I  feen  the  Tory  race 
Long  in  the  pouts  for  want  of  place, 
Never  in  humour,  never  well, 
Wifhing  for  what  they  dar'd  not  tell, 
Their  heads  with  country-notions  fraught, 
Notions  in  town  not  worth  a  groat, 
Thefe  tenets  all  reludant  quit, 
And  ftep  by  ftep  at  laft  fubmit 
To  reafm,  eloquence,  and  Pitt. 

At  firft  to  Hanover  a  plum 
Was  fent  ;-*They  faid — A  trivial  fum, 
But  if  he  went  one  title  further, 
They  vow'd  and  fwore  they'd  cry  out  murder ; 
Ere  long  a  larger  fum  is  wanted ; 
They  pifh'd  and  frown'd — but  ftill  they  granted : 
He  pufh'd  for  more,  and  more  agen — 
Well — Money's  better  fent,  than  Men : 
Here  virtue  made  another  ftand. — 
No — not  a  man  fhall  leave  the  land. 
What  ? — not  one  regiment  to  Embden  ? 
They  ftart — but  now  they're  fairly  hem'd  in  : 
Thele  foon.,  and  many  more  are  fent;— 
They're  filent — Silence  gives  confent. 
Our  troops,  they  now  can  plainly  fee, 
May  Britain  guard  in  Germany  : 
Hanoverians,  Heffians,  Pruffians 
Are  paid,  t'oppofe  the  French  and  Ruffians ; 
No  fcruple  they  with  truth  to  fay, 
They're  fighting  for  America : 
No  more  they  make  a  fiddle-faddle 
About  an  Heffian  horfe  or  faddle ; 
No  more  of  continental  meafures, 
No  more  of  wafting  Bridfh  treafures; 
Ten  millions,  and  a  vote  of  credit. — 
'Tis  right — He  can't  be  wrong,  who  did  it : 
They're  fairly  fous'd  o'er  head  and  ears, 
And  cur'd  of  all  their  ruitic  fears. 

A  PASSAGE  IN  OSSIAN  VERSIFIED.     . 

THE  deeds  of  ancient  days  fhall  be  my  theme; 
O  Lora,  the  foft  murmurs  of  thy  ftream, 
Thy  trees,  Garmallar,  ruftling  in  the  wind, 
Recal  thofe  days  with  pleafure  to  my  mind. 
See'ft  thou  that  rock,  from  whofe  heath-cover'd 

crown, 

Meh'ir.a,  three  old  bended  firs  look  down  ? 
Green  is  the  plain  which  at  its  feet  is  fpread, 
The  mountain  flower  there  fhakes  its  milk-white 

head; 

Two  ftones,  memorials  of  departed  worth, 
Uplift  their  mofs-cap'd  heads,  half  funk  in  earth ; 
The  mountain  deer,  that  crop  the  grafs  around,"! 
See  the  pale  ghofts  who  guard  the  facred  ground,  I 
Then  ftarting,  fly  the  place,  and  at  a  diftance  t" 

bound.  j 

ON   SEEING  THE    EARL   OF   CHESTER. 
FIELD  AT  A  BALL  AT  BATH. 

WRITTEN  IN  I77O. 

LN  times  by  felfifhnefs  and  faction   four'd 
When  dull  importance  has  all  wit  devour' d  j 


POEMS. 


10*3 


When  rant,  as  if  t'infult  alone  defign'J, 
Affe&s  a  proud  feclufion  *  from  mankind; 
And  greatnefs,  to  all  facial  converfc  dead, 
Eilecms  it  dignity  to  be  ill-bied: 
See  !  Chefterfield  alone  refills  the  ride, 
Above  all  party,  and.  above  all  pride, 
Vouchfafes  each  night  thefe  brilliant  fcenes  to  grace, 
Augments  and  ihares  the  anuifements  of  the  place ; 
Admires  the  fair,  enjoys  the  fpnghtly  bah, 
Deigns  to  be  pleas'd,  and  therefore  pleafes  all. 
Hence,  though  unable  now  this  ftyle  to  hit, 
Learn  what  was  once  politenels,  eafe,  and  wit. 

THE  AMERICAN  COACHMAN. 

CROWN'D  be  the  man  with  laftiag  piaife, 

Who  firfl  contriv'd  the  pin 
From  vicious  deeds  to  loofe  a  chaife, 

And  fave  the  necks  within. 

See  how  they  prance  and  bound,  and  fldpj 

And  all  controul  difdain ; 
Defy  the  terrors  of  die  whip, 

And  rend  the  filken  rein ! 

Awhile  we  try  if  art  or  ftrength 

Are  able  to  prevail ; 
But  hopelefs,  when  we  find  at  length 

That  all  our  efforts  fail, 

\Vrth  ready  foot  the  fpring  we  prefs, 

Out  flies  the  magic  plug, 
"  Then,  difengag'd  from  all  diftrefs, 
We  fit  quite  fafe  and  fnug. 

The  pamper'd  fteeds.  their  freedom  gain'd, 

Run  off  full  fpeed  together ; 
But  having  no  plan  alcertain'd, 

They  run  they  know  not  whither. 

Bovs,  who  love  mifchief,  and  of  courfe 

Enjoying  the  difkfter, 
Bawl,  Step  them  !  Stop  them !  till  they're  hoarfe, 

But  mean  to  drive  them  fafter. 

Each  claiming  now  his  native  right, 

Scorns  to  obey  his  brother ; 
So  they  proceed  to  kick  and  bite, 

And  worry  one  another. 

Hungry  at  length,  and  blind,  and  lame, 

Bleeding  at  nole  and  eyes; 
By  fufferings  growing  mighty  tame, 

And  by  experience  wile  ; 

With  bellies  full  of  liberty, 

But  void  of  oats  and  hav ; 
They  both  fneak  back,  their  folly  fee, 

And  run  no  mote  away. 

Let  all  who  view  rh'  inftru&ive  fcene, 

And  pattonize    he  plan, 
Give  thanks  to  Glous'ter's  honefl  Dean, 

For,  'luckerf, — thou'it  the  man. 

*  Eluding  to  tbeft/ptrcii'iot/s  airs  of  fame  of 
our  people  of  quality,  luho  itffcfl  to  avoid  fre- 
qurnting  the  public  rooms. 

•f-  £  rly  in  the  unfortunate  conteji  bet-men  the  n other 
eovnf>1  and  the  Jiintr  can  colonies,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tucktr 
fjicn  of  Glouce/ler,  *:.<..'•/,:?  '  a  pamphlet^  intituled  An 
AL  drefs  and  Appeal  to  the  Landed  I;  tereft ;  in 
Vib'ub  be fropt/ed  and  rceimmtnacj  t»  the  r-atian  a  fetal 


BURLESQUE  ODE. 


I'LL  combat  nature,  interrupt  her  courfe, 
And  baffle  all  her  flared  laws  by  force ; 
Tear  from  its  bed  the  deeply-rooted  pine, 

And  hurl  it  up  the  craggy  mountain's  fide; 
Divert  the  tempeft  from  it?  deilm'd  line, 

And  flem  the  torrent  of  th*  imp.-tuous  tide  ; 
Teach  the  dull  ox  to  dance,  the  afs  to  play, 
And  even  obftmate  Americans  t'  obey. 

Like  fome  dread  herald,  tygers  I'll  compel 
In  the  fame  field  wirh  flags  in  peace  to  dwell: 
The  rampant  lion  now  erccT:  fhall  (land, 

Now  couchant  at  my  feat  fhall  lie  depreft; 
And  if  l,e  dares  but  queftion  my  command, 

With  one  ftrong  blow  I'll  halve  him  to  a  crefl. 
Thus  fpoke  the  giant  Gogmagog :  the  found 
Reverberates  from  all  the  echoing  rocks  around. 

Now  morning,  rob'd  in  faffron-  colour' d  gown, 

Her  head  with  pink  andpea-green  ribbands  dreft, 
Climbs  the  celeftial  ftaircafe,  and  looks  down 
From  out  the  gilt  balcony  of  the  eaft; 
From  whence  around  fhe  fees 
The  cryftal  lakes  and  tufted  trees, 
The  lawns  all  powder'd  o'er  with  ftraggling  flocks, 
1  he  icarce-enhghten'd  vales, and  high  o'er-fhacow- 
ing  rocks. 

Enamour'd  with  her  newly-dawn:ng  charms, 

Old  ocean  views  her  with  defiring  eyes, 
And  longs  once  more  to  clafp  her  in  his  arms, 
Repenting  he  had  fuffer'd  her  to  rife; 
For:h  from  his  tumbled  bed, 
From  whence  fhe  juft  had  fled, 
To  the  flow,  loitering  hours  he  roars  amain, 
To  haften  back  the  lovely  fugitive  again. 

Parent  of  life !  refulgent  lamp  of  day '. 

Without  whofe  genial  animating  ray 

Men,  beads,  the  teeming  earth,  and  rolling  feas, 

Courts,  camps,  and  mighty  cities,  in  a  trice 
Muft  ihare  one  common  fate,  intenfely  freezf, 

And  all  become  one  folid  mafs  of  >ce; 
Ambition  would  be  froze,  and  faction  numb, 
Speeches  congeal'd,  and  orators  be  dumb. 
Say,  what  new  worlds  and  fyflems  you  furvey! 
In  circling  round  your  planetary  way; 
What  beings  Saturn's  orb  inhabit,  teil, 

Where  cold  in  everlafting  triumph  reigns ; 
Or  what  their  frames,  who  unconfum'd  can  dwell 

In  Meicury's  n  d-hot  and  molten  plains; 
Sav  !  for  moft  ardently  I  wifh  to  know, 
What  bodies  can  endure  eternal  fire,  or  fnow ! 

And  thou,  fweer  moon!  canfl  tell  a  fofter  tale  ; 
To  the?  the  maid,  thy  likenefs,  fair  and  pale, 
In  p  nfive  contemplation  oft  applies, 

When  parted  from  her  lov'd  and  loving  fwain. 
And  l^oks  on  you  with  tear-befprinkled  eyes, 

And  fighs  and  looks,  and  looks  and  fighs  again  j 

federation  from  the  colonies,  off-ring  at  tb-f'me  time  to 
entit  into  alliance  of  frien^Ji'p  and  treat  es  ff  commerce 
ii'ith  bent,  as  ivith  any  other  fovere-^n  independent 
Jta'rs.  Ibis  fa<npblct  teas  tie  foundation  of  the  pre 
ceding  fiort  poem,  wr  tten  about  a  year  ajler  it,  in  ivbicb 
the  author,  tuitb  that  concifmefs  as  tt<  the  matter,  and 
L'ttpiiur  i'  tbe  manner. fo  peculiar  to  bimfelftrec»mmtndt 
and /efforts  tbe  Dtans  flan. 


£024 


THE   WORKS   OF   JENYNS. 


Say,  for  thou  know'fl  what  conflant  hearts  en 
dure  ; 

And  by  thy  frequent  changes  teach  the  cure. 
Thy  gentle  beams  the  lonely  hermit  fees, 
Gleam  through  the  waving  brandies  of  the  trees, 
Which,  high-embow'Jljg,  fhade  his  gloomy  cell, 

Where  undiflurb'd  perpetual  fiknce  reigns, 
Unlefs  the  owl  is  heard,  or  diflajfc.  bell, 

Or  the  wind  whittling  o'er  tj»e  f'urxy  plains. 
How  bleft  to  dwell  in  this  fequefter'd  fpot : 
Forgetting  parliaments  ;Jjy  them/forgot ! 

Now  lovely  Spring  her  velvet  mantle  fpreads, 
And  with  green  and  gold  the  flow'ry  meads ; 
Fruit-trees  in  vaft  white  perriwigs^are  feen, 
Refembling  much  fome  antiquated  beau, 
Which  north-call  winds,  that  blow  ib  long  and 

keen, 

Powder  full  oft  witb-gentle  flakes  of  fnow ; 
Soft  nightingales  their4  tun«ul  vigils  hold, 
Andfweetly  fing  and  {hake-rand  make"  with  cold. 
Summer  fucceeds;  in  ev'nings  foft  ancf:warm, 
Thrice-happy  lovers  faunter  arm  and  arm  ; 
The  gay  and  fair  now  quit  the  dufty  town, 

O'er  turnpike-roads  incefiant  chaii'C's  fweep, 
And  whirling,  bear  their  lovely  ladings  down, 

To  brace  their  nerves  beneath  the  briny  deep ; 
There  with  luccefs  each  fwain  his  nymph  affails, 
As  birds,  they  fay,  tire  caught — can  *i'e  but  fait 

their  tails. 

Then  Autumn,  more  ferene,  if  not  fo  bright, 
Regales  at  once  our  palate,  and  our  fight;   . 
With  joy  the  ruddy  orchards  we  behold, 
And  of  its  purple  clutters  rob  the  vine ; 
The  fpacious  fields  are  cover'd  o'er  with  gold, 
Which  the  glad  farmer  counts  as  ready  coin : 
But  difappointment  oft  his  hopes  attend — 
In  tithes  and  mildews  the  rich  profpeer  ends. 
Laft,  Winter  conies ;  decrepit,  old,  and  dull ; 
Yet  has  his  comforts  too — his'barns  are  full ; 
The  focial  converfer'cimilating  glafs, 

And  cheerful  fire,  are  his :  to  him  belong 
Th'  enlivening  dance  that  warms  the,  chilly  lafs, 

The  ftrious  game  at  whift,  and  me,  ry  fong; 
Kor  wants  he  beauties — fee  the  fun-beam*  glow 
O'er  lakes  of  cryftal  ice,  and  plains  of  £lver  fnow ! 
Tims  roll  tKt  feafons  o'er  Britannia's  land, 
But. none  her  ireeborn-weather  can  command  ; 
Scafons  unlike  to  thofe  in  fervile  climes, 

Which  o'er  Hifpania's  or  Italia's  plains 
Difpenie,  at  regular  and  dated  times, 

Succellive  heat  and  cold,  and  drought  and  rains ; 
Her's  scorning,  like  her  fons,  to  be  controul'd,   . 
Breathe  heat  in  Winter  oft,  and  oft  in  fummer 

cold. 

Hail,  Liberty,  fair  goddefs  of  this  ifle ! 
Deign  on  my  verfes  and  on  me,  to  fmile ; 
Like  them  unfetter'd  by  the  bonds  of  fenfe, 
Permit  us  to  enjoy  life's  tranfxent  dream, 
To  live,  and  write,  without  the  leaft  pretence 

To  method,  order,  meaning,  plan,  or  fcheme : 
And  fhield  us  faf'e  beneath  thy  guardian  wings, 
From  law,  religion,  minifters,  and  kings. 


WROTE  AT  THE  COUNTESS   OF  SALIS 
BURY'S  ASSEMBLY,  1787. 

FROM    Salifbury's  garter    droop'd    the   hiftoriari 

knows,  -. 

Th'  illuftrious  order  fo  entitled  rofe  ! 
Another  CaLiibury  now  our  bofoms  warms, 
•With  equal  elegance  and  equr.l  charms. 
Let  then  her  form,  her  trophies,  and  her  name, 
With  juftice  be  confign'd  to  equal  fame ; 
Let  kings  with  no  Ids  pride  her  garter  wear, 
Then  every  noble  knight  may  have  a  pair. 

EPITAPH  ON  DR.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

HERE  lies  Sam  Johnfon : — Reader  have  a  care, 
Tread  lightly,  left  you  wake  a  fleeping  bear : 
Religious,  moral,  generous,  and  humane 
He  was;  but  felf-fufficient,  proud,  and  vain, 
Fond  of,  and  overbearing  in  difpute, 
A  Chriftian,  and  a  fchplar— but  a  brute. 

ON  A  LATE  EXECRABLE  ATTEMPT  ON 
HIS  MAJESTY'S  LIFE,  17^6. 

LONG  had  our  gracious  George,  with  gentle  hand, 
And  love  paternal,  Britain's  fceptre  fway '31f 

To  render  this  a  free  and  happy  land, 
Was  all  for  which  he  wifti'd  to  be  obey'd. 

With  radiance  bright,  though  mild,  his  virtue* 
fhonc, 

For  he  of  every  virtue  was  poflefl, 
Which  can  add  luftre  to  a  monarch's  throne, 

Or  warm  an  undiffembling  patriot's  breufl. 

Pattern  of  female  excellence !  his  toils 
His  royal  confort  ever  fooths  and  lhares ; 

Imparting  fweet  domeftic  blifs,  with  fmiles 
That  can  difperfe  the  heavieft  cloud  of  cares. 

Though  faction,  difappoictment's  reftlefs  child, 
Has  fometimes  dar'd  to  interrupt  his  peace  ^ 

Yet  aw'd  at  once,    and  charm'd,    whene'er  he 

fmil'd, 
She  bade  drforder  aiid  confufion  ceafe. 

l.o v'd  and  ador'd  by  all,  to  all  a  friend, 
Caution  feem'd  needlefs  to  protecT>his  lifs; 

Till  hell  and  madnefs  fent  abroad  a  fiend, 

And  arm'd  that  fiend  with  a  deftrudtive  knife. 

But  Britain's/guardian  angel,  who  ftill  watch'd, 
To  fhield  jir  favourite  fon  from  every  harm, 

Juft  in  th'  important  moment  ityembling  catch'd, 
And  turn'd  afide  th'  affaffinating  arm. 

Let  then  earth^air,  and  the  high-vaulted  Iky,     .  A '<• 
.,  With  praifes,  pray'rs,  and  loud  thankfgivings,A 

ring» 

Joy  fire  each  breaft,  .and  fparkle  in  each  eye, 
That  heav'n  has  thus  preferv'd  our  country  and 
our  kins--. 


T  H  « 


POETICAL   WORKS 


OF 


JOHN      LOGAN. 


Containing 


ODF.S, 
SONGS, 


TAtES, 
HYMNS, 


C.    life. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE  LIFE   OF  THE  4UTHOR. 


While  youthful  Bards  their  verfe  infpire 
Alone  with  Fancy's  fparkling  fire, 

They  form  the  rhyme  in  vain ; 
Unlefs,  like  you,  they  join  the  glow, 
That  melts  the  foul  to  gentleft  woe, 

In  foft  impafiion'd  {train. 

Then  will  poetic  tianfports  rife, 
And  mildly  brighten  in  our  eye* ; 

Then  tears  begin  to  flow : 
And  as  we  own  the  potent  lay, 
Our  duteous  hands  will  twine  the  bay 

Around  the  Poet's  brow. 

v  MR.  DAVID  ROBERTSON'S  ODE 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MVNLELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSS. 


THE  LIFE  OF  LOGAN. 


Or  the  perfonal  hiftory  of  LOGAN  there  is  no  written  memorial.  With  talents  and  virtues  that 
commanded  the  admiration  and  efteem  of  his  contemporaries,  he  has  not  had  the  good  fortune  to 
find  a  biographer.  Perhaps  the  time  approaches,  when  the  public  is  to  be  prefented  with  a  full 
and  candid  reprefentation  of  him  and  his  writings.  It  is  expected  to  accompany  an  edition  of  his 
"  Mifcellaneous  Works,"  which  has  been  long  meditated  by  his  friend  and  executor  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Thomas  Robertfon,  minifler  of  Dalmeny,  already  advantageoufly  known  to  the  public  by  his  "  In 
quiry  into  the  Fine  Arts,"  "  Hiftory  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,"  and  other  learned  and  ingenious 
performances. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  prefent  writer  is  able  to  give  no  other  account  of  this  accomplifhed  and 
amiable  man,  than  fuch  as  is  fupplied  by  cafual  information,  and  a  very  flight  perfonal  knowledge. 

John  Logan  was  born  at  Soutra,  in  the  parilh  of  Fala,  in  the  county  of  Mid  Lothian, 
about  the  year  1748.  He  was  the  fecond  fon  of  George  Logan,  a  farmer  at  that  place,  and  af 
terwards  at  Gofsford,  in  the  parifh  of  Aberlady,  in  the  county  of  Eaft  Lothian.  H«  was  a  maa 
of  ftrong  parts,  and  equally  diftinguifhed  for  his  induftry  and  fkill  as  a  farmer,  and  his  integrity  and 
friendlinefs  of  difpofition  as  a  neighbour.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  was  vifited  with  a  diforder 
that  afftcted  his  imagination  and  fpirits,  and  produced  an  unhappy  vacillation  of  mind,  from  which 
he  was  never  perfectly  relieved.  His  mother,  Janet  Waterfton,  was  the  daughter  of  John  Water- 
don,  a  fmall  proprietor  of  land  at  Howden,  in  the  parifh  of  Stowe,  on  Gala  Water,  and  remarkable 
for  nothing  but  the  mildnefs  of  her  piety,  the  gentlenefs  of  her  difpofition,  and  the  fimplicity  of  her 
manners.  They  had  two  fons,  of  whom  the  poet  was  the  youugeft.  James,  the  eldelt,  followed 
the  occupation  of  his  father,  which  he  quitted  foon  after  his  death  for  the  profefllon  of  phylic. 
He  fettled  in  America,  and  ferved  fome  time  as  a  furgeon  in  the  American  army ;  and  died  feveral 
years  before  the  poet.  Both  parents  were  Seceders,  of  the  clafs  called  Burghers. 

Early  in  life  he  difcovered  a  propenfity  to  learning  ;  and  the  uncommon  proficiency  which  he 
made  in  thofe  branches  of  education  ufually  taught  in  remote  country  villages,  determined  his  pa 
rents  to  educate  him  for  the  clerical  profeffion. 

After  paffing  through  the  ufual  courfe  of  fchool-educarion  in  the  country,  he  was  fent  to  the  Uni- 
verfity  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  attended  the  feveral  cbffes  of  languages,  and  afterwards  applied 
himfelf  to  the  feveral  branches  of  philofophy  and  theology  with  remarkable  afliduity  and  fuccefs. 

Soon  after  his  coming  to  Edinburgh,  he  contra&ed  an  intimacy  with  Dr.  Robertfon,  then  a 
{Indent  at  the  univerfity ;  which  improved  with  their  years,  undiflurbed  by  any  cafual  mif- 
take,  or  jealoufy  on  either  fide.  He  alfo  became  acquainted  with  Bruce,  who  was  his  contempora 
ry  at  the  univerfity.  A  fimilarity  of  tafte  and  of  purfuits,  foon  brought  on  an  intimacy  between 
them,  which  continued  without  abatement  till  the  death  of  Bruce. 

He  had  before  this  time  given  evident  figns  of  a  propenfity  to  the  fludy  of  poetry,  and  difcovered 
an  early  predilection  for  that  more  perfeifb  fpecies  of  poetical  compofitjon,  which  abounds  in  fiilioH 
and  fancy,  piclurefque  defcription,  and  romantic  imagery.  Hence  the  compofitions  of  Spenfer, 
Milton,  Collins,  Akenfide,  Gray,  and  Mafon,  became  his  favourite  ftudy ;  and  from  admiring  their 
poetical  beauties,  the  tranfition  was  eafy  to  his  believing  himfclf  capable  of  producing  fimilar  ex-« 
cellenciee.  He  began  to  write  verfes  early ;  but  unluckily  none  of  hi»  pieces  are  dated,  fo  that  it  can 
not  be  faid  at  what  precife  age  he  compofed  them. 

After  the  death  of  Bruce,  he  made  a  leleclion  from  his  MSS.  of  fuch  poems  as  he  thought  worthy 
of  publication,  and  gave  them  to  the  world  in  a  fmall  lamo  volume,  intituled  "  Poems  on  Several  Oc- 
cafions,  by  Michael  Bruce,"  printed  at  Edinburgh  by  fubfcription,  in  1770,  with  a  Preface,  giving 
a  fhort  account  of  his  life  and  character,  and  "  fame  poems  wrote  by  d.flerent  authors."  His  fhare 
in  this  mifcellany  is  varioufly  rrprefented  by  Dr.  Robertfon,  and  the  friends  of  Bruce. 

While  he  refided  in  the  country,  during  the  vacation  of  the  college,  the  reputation  of  his  abilities 
procured  him  the  notice  of  Lord  Elibank,  who  then  refided  at  Ballencrief,  in  the  parifh  of  Aberlady } 
a  nobleman,  whp  to  a  confumma'e  knowledge  of  polite  literature,  and  other  accomplifhmcnt*  be. 


1028  THE  LIFE  OF  LOGAN. 

coming  his  rank,  joined  an  exemplary  fpirit  of  true  patriotifm,  whereof  that  part  of  the  country 

with  which  he  was  connected,  ttill  feels  the  falutary  influence. 

When  he  had  completed  his  theological  ftudies,  he  refided  for  fome  time  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Sin 
clair  of  Ulbfler,  as  private  tutor  to  his  fon,  the  prefent  Sir  John  Sinclair,  Bart,  an  employment  in 
which  he  wasfucceeded  by  his  friend  Dr.  Robertfon.  It  is  unneceffary  to  add,  that  the  nation  is  in 
debted  to  the  laudable  patriotifm  of  the  pupil  of  Logan,  and  of  Dr.  Robertfon,  for  the  "  Statiftical 
Account  of  Scotland,"  and  the  eftablifliment  of  the  "  Board  of  Agriculture." 

After  undergoing  the  ufual  trials  appointed  by  the  Church,  he  was  admitted  a  probationer  of  the 
Prefbytery  of  Edinburgh,  and  foon  obtained  fo  much  diltinction  as  an  eloquent  and  affecting  preach 
er,  that  he  was  chofen  by  the  Kirk-Seffion  and  Incorporations  of  South-Leith,  to  be  one  of  the  mi- 
nifters  of  that  parifli,  and  ordained  in  1773. 

While  he  was  engaged  in  the  duties  of  his  clerical  function,  he  was  not  negligent  of  literature; 
hut  continued  from  time  to  time  to  exert  his  poetical  faculties  in  various  kinds  of  metrical  compo- 
fition,  to  which  nature  gave  him  a  ftrong  impulfe. 

In  1779,  he  delivered  to  a  voluntary  fet  of  pupils,  in  St.  Mary's  Chapel,  Edinburgh,  during  the 
Winter  Seflion  of  the  College,  a  feries  of  lectures  on  The  Pbilofephy  of  Hiflory,  and  met  with  the 
countenance,  approbation,  and  friendship  of  Dr.  Robertfon,  Principal  of  the  Univerfity,  Dr.  Blair,  Dr. 
Fergufon,  and  other  men  of  genius  and  learning. 

He  read  the  fame  courfc  of  lectures  during  the  Seflion  of  the  College  1780,  with  fuch  general 
approbation,  that  he  was  encouraged  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  Profeflbrfhip  of  Univerfal  Hif- 
tory  in  the  Univerfity,  then  vacant  by  the  refignation  of  John  Pringle,  Efq. :  but  this  chair  having 
been  always  filled  by  an  advocate,  he  was  reckoned  inadmiffible  ;  and  Alexander  Frafer  Tytler,  Efq. 
was  elected  by  the  Magiltrates  and  Council  of  the  city,  Feb.  16.  1780.  upon  a  lett  prefented  by  the 
Faculty  of  Advocates. 

The  reading  of  his  lectures  the  year  following,  not  meeting  with  encouragement,  he  refolved  to 
commit  them  to  the  prefs,  and  publifhed  an  analyfis  of  them,  fo  far  as  they  relate  to  ancient  hiftory, 
under  the  title  of  Elements  of  the  Pbilofepby  of  Hiftory,  8vo,  1781,  which  was  followed  by  one  of  the 
lectures  en  tie  Manners  and  Government  of  Afta,  8vo,  1781.  This  excellent  production  exhibits  one 
of  the  mod  fuccefsful  attempts  to  apply  the  fcience  of  moral  philofophy  to  the  illuftration  of  the  hif 
tory  of  mankind,  that  has  yet  appeared. 

The  fame  year,  1781,  he  publiflied  his  Poems,  8vo,  in  which  he  reprinted,  with  fpme  alterations, 
the  Ode  t»  tbe  Cuclta,  originally  inferted  in  the  collection  of  poems  publilhed  under  the  name  of 
Bruce.  A  fecond  edition  ef  his  poems  appeared  in  178*. 

In  1783,  he  offered  his  Runnamtdet  a  tragedy,  to  Mr.  Harris,  the  manager  of  Covent- Garden 
Theatre,  who  put  it  in  rehearfal ;  but  a  Hop  was  put  to  its  reprefeutation  by  an  injunction  from 
the  Chamberlain's  Office,  on  account  of  the  allufions  it  was  fuppofed  to  contain  to  the  politics  of 
the  time.  It  was  therefore  firft  prefented  from  the  prefs;  and  notwithstanding  the  prejudice  the 
world  is  apt  to  conceive  againft  dramatic  ccmpofuicns  that  have  not  been  exhibited  on  the  ftage,  was 
very  favourably  received. 

It  was  afterwards  acted  at  the  theatre  in  Edinburgh,  with  confiderable  applaufe. 

The  failure  of  his  fcheme  of  giving  lectures,  and  the  prohibition  of  his  play,  made  a  deep  impref- 
fion  on  his  fpirits,  which  had  always  been  unequal,  and  had  a  cpnOderable  effect  on  his  health,  which 
from  this  time  began  vifibly  to  decline.  The  penfive  melancholy,  which  he  felt  in  common 
with  men  of  genius  -*nd  feeling,  aggravated,  perhaps,  by  a  conftitutional  defect  in  his  ntrvous  fyf- 
tem,  that  inexplicable  part  of  our  frame,  now  became  in  fome  degree  habitual,  and  difcovered  itfelf 
in  deviations  from  the  modes  of  the  world,  and  violations  of  profeffional  decorum,  which  offended 
his  parifhioners,  and  made  it  eligible  for  him  to  difcontinue  the  exercife  of  his  clerical  function. 

An  agreement  to  that  purpofe  was  completed  between  him  and  the  Kirk-Seffion  and  Incorpora- 
tions  of  South  Leith,  in  1786  ;  in  confluence  of  which  Mr.  Dickfon  was  appointed  his  affiftant  and 
fucceffor;  and  he  retired  upon  a  moderate  annuity. 

While  this  fcheme  was  ripening,  he  went  to  London,  in  October  1785,  and  was  for  fome  time 
concerned  io  the !'  Erglifh  R.eview."  I 


THE  LIFE  OF  LOGAN.  1029 

In  1788,  he  publifhed,  without  his  name,  a  pamphlet  intituled  A  Review  of  tf>t  Principal  Cbarget 
again/I  Mr.  Ha/lings,  8vo,  which  attracted  the  public  attention  in  an  uncommon  degree.  Some 
paffages  in  it  reflecting  on  the  conduct  of  the  managers  of  the  profecution,  being  confidered  by  the 
Houfe  of  Commons  as  an  infringement  on  their  privileges,  the  Attorney-General  was  ordered  to  pro- 
fecute  the  publisher,  Mr.  Stockdale,  who  was  tried  9th  December  1789,  and  acquitted. 

This  was  the  laft  publication  which  he  gave  to  the  world.  After  a  lingering  indifpofition,  he 
died  in  London,  the  a8th  of  December  1788,  in  the  4Oth  year  of  his  age. 

By  his  will,  he  appointed  Dr.  Robertfon,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Donald  Grant,  his  joint  executor',  and 
left  them  his  books  and  manufcripts,  to  be  fold  for  the  payment  of  legacies  to  the  amount  of  600  I. 
which  he  bequeathed  to  his  friends  and  relations. 

In  1790,  a  volume  of  Sermons,  felected  from  his  MSS.  was  publiftied  at  Edinburgh,  in  8vo,  tin 
der  the  fuperintendance  of  Dr.  Blair,  Dr.  Robertfon,  and  Dr.  Hardy,  Profeffbr  of  Ecclefiaflica! 
Hiftory  in  the  Univerfity.  A  fecond  volume  was  publiihed  in  8vo,  1791.  and  his  MSS.  in  the 
poffeflion  of  Dr.  Robertfon,  would  furnifh  an  additional  volume.-  The  third  edition  of  the  two  vo 
lumes  was  printed  in  1793- 

The  following  lift  of  his  unpublifhcd  works,  and  uncollected  pieces,  was  communicated  to  thepre- 
fent  writer,  in  a  letter  from  Dr.  Robertfon,  dated  Dalmeny,  Sept.  19.  1795. 

"  Thofe  in  verfe  confift  of  Eleflra,  a  tragedy ;  the  Wedding  Day,  a  tragedy,  being  a  tranflation  in 
to  blank  verfe  of  the  Leferteur  of  Mercier ;  the  Carthaginian  Heroine,  a  tragedy,  but  of  which  there 
is  only  the  firft  act  finifhed  ;  and  about  half-a-dozen  of  fhort  lyric  poems.  Thofe  in  profe  confift  of 
eight  numbers  of  an  intended  periodical  paper,  called  the  Guardian.  The  fubject  of  one  of  the  num 
bers  is  a  capital  eflay  on  the  genius  and  writings  of  Addifon.  Befides  thefe,  I  have  alfo  in  my  pof- 
feffion  Mr.  Logan's  MS.  Lefiures  on  Roman  Hi/lory,  about  twenty-five  in  number,  with  fix  or  feven  in 
troductory  ones  to  his  Courfe  of  Lectures  on  Univerfal  Hiftory.  His  Lectures  on  Roman  Hiftory 
begin  with  Romulus,  and  come  down  to  the  fall  of  the  empire,  and  the  cftablifiiment  of  the  feudal 
fyftem. 

"  In  the  fmall  volume  of  poems  publiftied  under  the  title  of  "  Poems  by  Michael  Bruce,"  the  following 
were  compofed  by  Mr.  Logan  :  Damon,  Mcnalcas,  and  Melibeus  -,  I  aftoral  Song,  to  the  tune  of  the 
"  Yellow  Hair'd  Laddie;"  Eclogue  in  the  manner  of  Oflian;  Ode  to  a  Fountain ;  two  Danifi  Odes; 
Chorus  of  "  Anacreontic  to  a  Wafp  ;"  the  tale  oiLcvina  (278  lines),  in  the  poem  of  "  Lochleven  ;" 
Ode  to  '  avli  ;  Ode  to  tbe  Cvcioo." 

It  is  of  importance  to  the  reputation  of  Bruce,  to  fubjoin  the  following  account  of  his  (hare  in  the 
volume  of  poems  publifbed  under  his  name,  given  by  his  friend  Mr.  David  Pearfon,  in  a  letter  to 
the  prefent  writer,  dated,  Little  Balgedie,  near  Kinneffwood,  Aug.  29. 1795. 

"  I  need  not  inform  you  concerning  the  bad 'treatment  that  his  [Bruce's]  poems  met  with  from  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Logan,  when  he  received  from  his  father  the  whole  of  his  manufcripts,  publiihed  only  his 
own  pleafure,  and  kept  back  thofe  poems  that  his  friends  would  moft  gladly  have  embraced ;  and 
fince  publifhed  many  of  them  in  his  own  name.  The  Cucloo  and  the  Hymns  in  the  end  of  Logan's 
book,  are  afiuredly  Mr.  Bruce's  productions." 

The  facts  ftated  in  Mr.  Pearfon's  letter  are  more  circumftantially  related  in  the  following  ex 
tract  of  a  letter  to  the  prefent  writer,  from  Mr.  John  Birrel,  dated  KinnefTwood,  Aug.  31.  1795. 
The  veneration  with  which  this  worthy  and  intelligent  man  regards  the  memory  of  Bruce,  and 
the  enthufiafm  with  which  he  cultivates  his  favourite  ftudies,  are  only  lefs  meritorious  than  his  be 
nevolent  exertions  to  relieve  the  necelTities,  and  footh  the  afflictions  of  his  aged  mother,  which  af 
ford  an  example  worthy  the  imitation  of  perfons  of  fuperior  rank  and  education. 

"  Soma  time  before  the  poet's  father  died,  he  delivered  the  book  containing  the  firft  draught  of 
ibme  of  Michael's  poems,  his  fermons,  and  other  papers,  into  my  hand,  defiring  I  would  keep  them, 
faying,  "  I  know  of  none  to  whom  I  would  rather  give  them  than  you,  for  you  mind  me  more  of  my 
Michael  than  any  body  ;"  a  compliment  which  I  never  deferved,  and  which  in  modefty  I  fhoulJ  con 
ceal.  Some  years  after  I  entered  upon  terms  with  Mr  Morifon  of  Perth,  to  fell  the  MSS.  for  the 
benefit  of  auld  Annie  j_the  poet's  mother],  who  was  in  very  deftitute  circumftances.  But  in  tbe 
mean  time,  Dr.  Baird  wrote  for  them,  with  a  view  to  republifti  Michael's  poems,  with  any  others 
that  could  be  procured  of  his.  I  fent  them,  to  him  gladly,  hoping  foon  to  fee  the  •whole  in  print, 


1C30  THE   LIFE   OF    LOGAN. 

and  the  old  woman  decently  provided  for  in  confequence.  The  finifhed  book  of  Michael's  poems 
was  given  to  Mr.  Logan,  who  never  returned  them.  Many  a  time,  with  tears  trickling  down  hi* 
cheeks,  has  old  Alexander  told  me  how  much  he  was  difappointed  in  Logan,  who  came  unexpec 
tedly  and  got  all  the  papers,  letters,  and  the  books  away,  without  giving  him  time  to  take  a  note  of 
the  titles,  or  getting  a  receipt  for  the  papers,  &c.  •  After  the  publication,  he  went  over  to  Edin 
burgh  to  recover  them.  Mr.  Logan  defired  him  to  call  again,  and  they  would  be  ready.  He  did  fo ; 
but  he  was  gone  out,  and  no  meflage  left.  He  faw  Mr.  Logan  on  the  ftreet,  who  told  him  that  he 
had  left  the  poems  with  the  fervants,  but  that,  as  he  did  .not  get  them,  he  was  afraid  the  fervants 
had  taken  them,  and  finged  fowk  with  them. — David  Pearfon,"  he  adds  in  another  place,  "  does 
not  remember  of  feeing  the  Ode  to  tie  Fountain,  The  Vernal  0  'e,  Ode  to  Paoli,  Chorus  of  Elyftan  Bards,  or 
the  Danljb  Odes,  until  he  faw  them  in  print.  But  the  reft  cf  the  publication  he  decidedly  afcribes 
to  Michael,  and  in  a  moft  particular  manner  the  Cuckoo,  Salgar  and  Motrna,  and  the  other  Eclogue." 

Such  are  the  facts  which  the  prefent  writer  efceems  it  a  part  of  his  duty  to  ftate,  as  they  have 
been  communicated  to  him  by  the  refpective  friends  of  Logan  and  Bruce.  He  {hall  not  intrude  up 
on  the  admirers  of  thefe  two  poets  any  opinion  of  his  own  concerning  the  claims  of  their  refpe&ive 
friends,  (ince  his  only  intention  is  to  enable  them,  from  a  confederation  of  the  fads,  to  form  their 
own  conclufions ;  leaving  them  ftill  open  to  the  impreffion  of  any  additional,  or  more  fatisfadory 
evidence  that  may  hereafter  arife. 

It  muft  not  be  concealed,  that  an  unauthorifed  report  is  wandering  about  in  the  literary  circles  of 
Edinburgh,  which  afcribes  the  firft  Iketch  of  the  Ode  to  the  Cuckoo  to  Bruce,  and  the  compofition,  as 
it  now  ftands,  to  Logan,  who,  it  is  faid,  improved  and  embeliiflied  it  fo  much,  as  to  make  it  in  a 
great  meafure  his  own.  On  the  other  band,  his  coufin  Mrs.  Hutchifon,  wife  of  Mr.  John  Hutchi- 
fon,  merchant  in  Edinburgh,  informs  the  prefent  writer  tiiat  fhe  faw  the  Ode  in  Logan's  hand-writ 
ing  before  it  was  printed.  If  theteftimonies  of  Dr.  Robertfon  and  Mrs.  Hutchifon  went  the  length 
of  eftablifhing  the  exiftence  of  the  Ode  in  Logan's  hand-writing  in  Bruce's  lifetime,  or  before  hit 
MSS.  came  into  Logan's  pofleflion,  they  might  be  confidered  as  decifive  of  the  controverfy.  The 
fuppreflion  of  Bruce's  MSS.  it  muft  be  owned,  is  a  circusnftance  unfavourable  to  the  pretenfions  of 
Logan. 

No  new  edition  of  his  Poems  has  been  called  for  fince  his  death.  They  are  now,  reprinted  from, 
the  edition  1782,  received,  for  the  firft  time,  into  a  colledion  of  claffical'Engliih  poetry.  In  this 
edition  the  prefent  writer  has  not  ventured,  upon  the  authority  of  Dr.  Robertfon,  to  give  him  the 
pieces  afcribed  to  him  in  Bruce's  "  Poems,"  which  he  did  not  think  proper  to  claim  himfelf ;  nei 
ther  has  he  prefumed,  upon  the  authority  of  Mr.  Pearfon,  to  deprive  htm  of  the  Ode  to  the  Cudo»,  to 
which  he  has  put  his  name.  In  juftice  to  both  poets,  he  has  followed  the  collection  of  their  poems, 
printed  under  their  refpedtive  name?,  in  the  prefent  edition,  diftinguifliing  the  pieces  which  have 
been  claimed  for  the  one  or  the  other  by  their  refpeclive  friend?. 

Logan  was  a  man  of  very  amiable  difpofitions,  and  of  very  agreeable  manners.  He  loved  and 
efteemed  his  friends,  and  was  by  them  loved  and  efteemed.  He  was  refpe&ed  by  the  world  as  a 
man  of  fuperior  talents,  learning,  and  virtue.  Genius,  a  fufficient  ftock  of  profeffional  erudition,  and  a 
happy  facility  of  communication,  diftinguiflied  him  as  a  public  inftrudtor.  Failings  he  had  undoubt 
edly  ;  many  of  hi*  frienas  will  remember  them  ;  but  he  had  no  failings  which  did  not  proceed  from 
an  unhappy  conftitutional  temperament.  In  feeling  minds  paffions  naturally  burn  with  too  much 
vehemence.  His  fenfibility  was  too  ardent,  his  paffions  were  too  eafilymoved.  His  fpirits  were  al 
ways  much  elated,  or  much  depreffed.  After  the  failure  of  his  fchemes  of  literary  ambition,  the 
frequency  and  duration  of  his  periods  of  melancholy  became  more  remarkable.  His  health  conti 
nually  declined.  He  grew  bnrdenfome  to  himfelf,  and  with  the  ufual  weaknefs  of  men  fo  difeafed, 
eagerly  hatched  that  temporary  relief  which  the  bottle  fupplies;  a  weaknefs  which,  in  his  unhap 
py  circumftances,  reflects  no  difhonour  on  his  memory,  and  cannot  be  remembered,  but  with  pity 
and  fadnefs. 

As  an  author,  Logan  has  diftinguifhed  himfelf  as  an  biflorian,  a  divine  and  a  fact. 

His  Elements  of  tbe  Pbilofofby  cf  Hljlory,  difplay  the  deep  penetration,  comprehenfive  views,  and 
animated  comp'ofition,  which  diftinguiflied  his  courfe  of  «  Lectures  on  Ancient  and  Modern  Hiftc- 
rj."  He  appears  from  thefe  outlines,  to  have  taken  a  very  comprehenfive  and  philofophical  fur- 


THE  LIFE   OF  LOGAN.  1103 

vey  of  t  he  hiftory  of  mankind.  Though  they  were  particularly  intended  for  his  pupils,  they  may 
be  of  ufe  to  readers  of  hiftory  in  general,  in  leading  them  to  contemplate  events  in  their  connection 
with  each  other,  and  in  relation  to  their  caufes,  and  in  fuggefting  hints  of  fpeculation  and  inquiry. 
In  this  excellent  production,  as  well  as  in  his  Dij/crtation  on  Afia,  he  fhows  himfelf  to  be  both  a 
man  of  erudition  and  a  philofopher.  But,  befides  this,  we  difcover  in  them  fome  of  the  principal 
qualifications  of  a  poet,  a  vein  of  imagery  and  invention,  and  the  true  flame  of  genius. 

It  is  no  unpleafant  reflection,  to  be  able  to  find  fo  many  elegant  writers  of  fermons  among  the 
Scottifh  preachers;  in  the  firft  rank  of  which  Logan  (lands  very  high.  Leechman,  Craig,  Far- 
quhar,  Walker,  Logan,  Dryfdale,  Gerard,  Lament,  Charters,  and  Blair,  are  fuch  writers  of  fer 
mons,  as  any  country  might  with  juftice  be  proud  of.  It  is  remarkable,  that  an  art  which  has  been 
fo  long  and  fo  constantly  practifed  as  that  of  preaching,  fhould  hitherto  have  furnifhed  fo  very  few 
models  of  eloquence.  It  was  in  France  that  the  firft  attempts  appear  to  have  been  made  towards 
any  improvement  in  this  fpecies  of  compofition.  In  the  reign  of  Lewis  XIV.  the  eloquence  of  the 
pulpit  was  carried  to  a  perfection  which  has  not  fince  been  exceeded  by  the  writers  of  that  or 
any  other  country.  The  firft  who  diftinguifhed  themfelves  in  France  by  their  eloquence  in 
preaching,  were  Boffuet,  Flechier,  and  Bourdaloue ;  and  the  two  former  were  furpaffed  by  the  lat 
ter,  who  united  with  confiderable  warmth,  and  remarkable  correctnefs  and  purity  of  expreffion, 
great  force  and  ftrength  of  reafoning.  Thefe  were  followed  by  Maflillon,  who  exceeded  all 
his  predeceffors,  and  has  afforded  the  moft  perfect  models  of  pulpit-eloquence  that  have  yet  ap 
peared  in  any  country.  Bourdaloue,  nervous  in  his  flyle,  fimple  in  his  expreffion,  and  acute 
in  his  reafoning,  aims  at  convincing  the  underflanding,  rather  than  at  touching  the  heart.  Maf- 
fiilon,  not  lefs  nervous  in  his  flyle,  but  more  acute  in  his  expreffion,  expreffes  himfelf  in  a  lan 
guage  dictated  by  the  richeft  imagination  and  the  moft  delicate  tafte  ;  and,  addreffing  himfelf  to  the 
heart,  hurries  us  along  with  a  never-failing  torrent  of  the  warmeft  and  moft  paffionate  eloquence. 

In  England  the  art  of  preaching  has  made  a  lefs  diftinguifhed  progrefs,  and  is  yet  far  from  having; 
arrived  at  that  degree  of  perfection  which  the  French  have  attained.  Before  the  Reftoration,  there 
is  hardly  a  preacher  whofe  fermons  deferve  to  be  read.  The  fpirit  of  religious  controverfy  gave 
them  fome  warmth  ;  but,  utterly  void  of  tafte,  and  deftitute  of  elegance  of  expreffion,  they  abound 
in  cold  divifions  and  fcholaftic  jargon.  Then  appeared  Sanderfon  and  Barrow,  who,  deviating  from 
the  involved  method  of  their  predeceffors,  introduced  a  mode  lefs  formal,  though  not  quite  pure 
from  the  parade  of  artificial  compofition.  In  that  reign,  Scott,  diffufe,  figurative,  ferious,  and  fer 
vent,  formed  a  manner  peculiar  to  himfelf,  which,  without  an  equal  portion  of  congenial  talents, 
it  was  impoffible  to  imitate.  About  the  end  of  the  lad,  and  the  beginning  of  the  prefent  century, 
fome  improvements  were  made.  In  the  fermons  of  Tillotfon  there  is  remarkable  good  fenfe,  accom 
panied  with  fimplicity,  and  confiderablc  purity  of  expreffion.  Clarke  pondered  his  fubjects  with  pa 
tience,  compared  the  Bible  carefully  with  itfelf,  argued  coolly,  decided  with  caution,  wrote  with  pre- 
cifion,  and  feldom  admitted  an  improper  word,  or  gave  it  a  wrong  pofition  ;  but  he  is  generally  dry 
and  uninterefting.  Butler's  fermons  are  for  the  moft  part  upon  very  abftrufe  metaphyfical  points,  little 
fuited  to  the  pulpit,  or  to  the  generality  of  readers.  In  the  fermons  of  Seed  there  is  found  and  clear 
reafening  ;  the  expreflion  is  lively  and  elegant,  and  the  manner  warm  and  interefting  ;  but  his  ftyle 
is  often  too  artificial,  as  oppofed  to  natural.  The  fermons  of  Hoadly,  Sherlock,  Seeker,  Jortin,  and 
many  others,  though  juftly  celebrated  for  their  found  and  clear  reafoning,  and  nervous  expreffion,  yet 
hardly  ever  afford  any  examples  of  an  animated  and  paffionate  eloquence.  Atterbury  is  almoft  the 
only  Englifh  preacher  who  has  attained  any  remarkable  elegance,  or  who  approaches  in  any  degree 
to  the  eloquence  of  the  French.  His  ftyle  is  more  nervous,  his  expreffion  more  elegant,  and  his  man 
ner  more  warm  and  affecting  than  almoft  any  of  the  Englifh  preachers;  but  he  is  fometimes  care- 
lefs  and  incorrect,  and  fometimes  even  flat  and  infipid. 

If  the  Englifh  preachers  have  fallen  fhort  of  the  eloquence  of  the  French,  thofe  of  Scotland  have 
been  ftill  farther  behind.  The  genius  of  prefbytery ,  and  the  manners  of  the  people,  were  unfavour 
able  to  a  refined  and  polifhed  eloquence.  Of  late,  however,  together  with  other  improvements, 
good  fenfe,  elegance,  and  correctnefs,  have  come  to  be  attempted  in  the  difcourfes  from  the  pulpit; 
and  fome  preachers  have  appeared,  who,  in  found  and  difpaffionate  reafoning,  in  order  and  clcarneft, 
and  even  in  purity  and  elegance  of  expreffion,  have  rivalled  the  moft  celebrated  preachers  of  our 

3  T  '»j 


THE  LIFE  OF  LOGAN. 

neighbouring  country.  The  firft  who  appears  to  have  diftinguifhed  hlnifelf  in  Scotland,  by  the 
good  fenfe,  found  reafoning,  and  manly  fimplicity  of  his  pulpit  compofitions,  was  Dr.  Leechman. 
Some  improvements  were  made  by  fuccceding  preachers,  and  fermons  became  gradually  more  fa- 
fliionable.  Thofe  of  Mr.  Walker,  as  the  productions  of  tafte  and  genius,  exercifed  on  important  fub- 
jeds,  were  defervedly  commended.  But  the  polifh  of  Dr.  Blair,  which  gave  elegance  to  fen- 
timents  not  too  profound  for  common  comprehenfion,  nor  too  obvious  to  be  unintereftingi  was 
wanting  to  render  this  fpecies  of  compofition  popular  and  generally  pleafing.  By  employing  the 
utmoft  exertirns  of  a  vigorous  mind,  and  of  patient  ftudy,  to  feled  the  beft  ideas,  and  to  prune  off 
every  fuperfluous  thought,  by  taking  pains  to  embelli(h  them  by  all  the  beauties  of  language  and 
elegant  exprefllun,  and  by  repeatedly  examining,  with  the  feverity  of  an  enlightened  critic,  every 
fentence,  and  erafing  every  harfh  and  uncouth  phrafc,  he  has  produced  the  mod  elegant  models 
of  pulpit-comp.'fition  that  has  yet  appeared  in  thefe  kingdoms.  In  confequence  of  Dr.  Johnfon's 
approbation,  one  hurdred  pounds  were  given  for  the  firft  volume  of  his  fermons;  which,  on  ac 
count  of  the  extenfive  fale,  the  proprietors  doubled.  They  gave  him  300!.  for  the  fecond, 
and  6co  1.  for  each  of  the  two  fucceeding  volumes ;  which  was  more  than  ever  a  work  of  equal 
bulk  procured  from  bookfellers;  but  they  increafed  the  fale  of  the  former  volumes. 

The  Strmtm  of  Logan,  though  not  fo  exquifitely  polifhed  as  thofe  of  Dr.  Blair,  poflefs  in  a  higher 
degree  the  animated  and  paffionate  eloquence  of  Maflillon  and  Atterbury.  His  compofition  is  every 
where  excellent.  Its  leading  tharaderiftics  are  ftrength,  elegance,  and  fimplicity.  The  formation  of 
his  fentences  appears  the  moft  inartificial,  though  at  the  fame  time  it  will  be  found  to  be  ftridly  cor 
rect.  But  the  manner,  amidft  all  its  beauties,  is  on  the  firft  perufal  loft  in  ths  enjoyment  the  reader 
feels  from  the  fentiment.  Devotional  and  folemn  fubjeds  peculiarly  accord  with  his  feelings  and  ge 
nius.  In  exhibiting  deep  and  folemn  views  of  human  life,  his  fentiments  are  bold  and  varied,  and 
his  imagination  teems  with  the  moft  feothing  and  elevated  figures.  His  knowledge  of  poetry  in  ge 
neral,  and  his  relifli  for  its  higheft  beauties,  are  every  where  confpicuous.  Topics  fuch  as  thefe, 
•which  we  have  feen  illuftrated  before  a  thoufand  times,  are  made  to  pafs  before  the  mind  in  the 
moft  impreffive  and  afleding  manner;  and  for  a  moment  we  deceive  ourfelves  into  a  belief  that  the 
fubjeds  themfelves  muft  be  new  to  us.  But  it  appears  to  have  been  no  part  of  his  plan,  to  feek  out 
for  new  fubjeds  of  preaching,  or  to  excite  his  ingenuity  in  exhibiting  new  views  of  moral  and  reli 
gious  topics.  To  embellifli  the  moft  common  fubjeds,  which  are  certainly  the  moft  proper  and  ufe- 
ful,  with  new  ornaments ;  to  perfuade  by  a  more  forcible  and  more  captivating  illuftration  ;  to  unite 
the  beauties  of  elegant  diction,  and  the  fplendour  of  fine  imagery  ;  in  this  lay  his  chief  exertions,  and 
here  refts  his  chief  praife.  The  fwrtb,  ninth,  and  eleventh  difcourfcs,  in  the  firft  volume,  remind  ut 
that  the  Sirmont  are  pofthumous,  and  many  of  them,  at  leaft,  not  intended  for  publication.  The  firft, 
head  of  the  fourth  fenron,  and  three  fhort  pafiages  in  the  ninth,  are  almoft  literal  tranfcripts  from 
Seed's  fermon  "  On  the  Path  of  the  Juft ;"  and  almoft  the  one-half  of  the  eleventh  is  taken  from  Seed's 
fermon  on  "  Charity."  It  is  evident  that  he  was  indolent  at  times,  and  did  not  write  up  to  his  pow 
ers,  contenting  himfelf  with  producing  what  was  at  hand,  rather  than  feeking  what  was  beft,  and 
what  he  could  have  given.  It  is  alfo  evident  that  what  is  his  own,  is  fuperior  te  what  is  foreign,  and 
that  he  has  improved  what  he  has  adopted.  The  Praytrs  and  Addre/es  to  communicants,  in  the  ce 
lebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  according  to  the  form  in  which  that  folemn  or 
dinance  is  generally  adminiftred  in  the  prefent  times  in  Scotland,  are  diftinguifhed  compofitions,  and 
highly  devotional. 

A«  a  feet,  Logan  appears  to  no  lefs  advantage  than  in  thofe  departments  of  literature  in  which 
we  have  lurveyed  him.  He  is  charaderifed  by  that  pregnancy  of  invention,  that  exquifite  fenfibi- 
lity,  and  that  genuine  enthufiafm,  which  are  the  invariable  fandions  beftovved  by  nature  on  every 
true  poet.  His  poems  are  the  productions  of  a  mind  tremblingly  alive  to  thofe  fine  impulfes  of  paf- 
fion  which  form  the  foul  of  poetic  compofition,  and  familiarifed  to  all  the  moft  delicate  graces  of 
the  poetic  art.  He  difcovers  tafte  and  delicacy  of  fentiment,  joined  to  a  great  fhare  of  poetical  ima 
gination.  His  thoughts  are  always  juft,  and  often  ftriking.  His  images  are  pleafing  and  pidu- 
refque,  and  his  language  is  for  the  moft  part  corred  and  harmonious.  Sprightly  fubjeds  he  treat* 

v-'itfe  wfe;  in  the  pathetic  and  folemn  he  is  a  matter.  Tl'e  penCveuefs  of  his  difpofition,  though  un- 


THE  LIFE  OF  LOGAN.  1033 

fortunate  for  himfelf,  enriched  his  poetical  vein,  and  (haded  his  competitions  with  a  tender  melan 
choly.     Melpomene,  Erato,  and  Euterpe,  were  his  favourite  niufes. 

His  Runnamedc  is  the  greateft  effort  of  his  genius.  The  title  is  taken  from  the  place  where  the 
famous  Magna  Cbarta  was  obtained.  The  ftory  is  founded  on  the  conteft  between  King  John  and 
his  barons.  The  under-plot  is  borrowed,  without  any  acknowledgment,  from  the  TanereJe  of  Vol 
taire.  This  is  evident  from  the  following  lift  of  correfpondent  characters :  Taucrede,  Eltilne, 
Orbafian,  Arden,  Argive,  Albcmarte,  Aldamon,  Edgar,  Amenaide,  Ehiaa,  the  Sultan,  and  the  Dau- 
fiin.  It  is  not,  however,  a  mere  tranflation  of  the  Ttncredt.  It  has  variations  in  the  circumftances, 
and  variations  in  the  conduct  of  the  (lory.  The  favage  temper  of  Amenaide  is  properly  foftened 
in  Elv'tna. ;  an  unnatural  connection  is  formed  between  the  love-tale  and  the  conteft  of  the  barons 
with  King  John ;  the  ftory  terminates  happily,  and  the  performance  is  made  more  dramatical. 
The  fubject  is  announced  in  the  Prologue,  in  an  elevated  tone. 

A  namelefs  youth  beheld  with  noble  rage 

One  fubject  (till  a  ftranger  to  the  ftage ; 

A  name  that's  mufic  to  the  Brhifh  ear ! 

A  name  that's  wor(hipp'd  in  the  Briti(h  fphere  ! 

Fair  Liberty ,  the  goddefs  of  the  ifle, 

Who  bleffes  England  with  a  guardian  fmile. 

The  play  is  intended/to  awaken  fentiments  of  liberty  and  public  fplrit  in  the  hearts  of  his  coun 
trymen.  But  Liberty  is  by  no  means  a  Jl ranger  tn  the  fage.  It  makes  the  principal  fubject  of  the 
"  Cato"  of  Addifon,  and  has  been  brought  forward  by  Voltaire  in  his  "  Brutus,"  and  "  Death  of 
Czfar,"  to  omit  a  crowd  of  lefs  illuftrious  examples.  The  ftories  which  form  the  moft  (hiking  ex 
emplification  of  moral  or  political  heroifm,  the  death  of  Socrates,  or  the  cataftrophe  of  Cato,  though 
inexpreffibly  beautiful  and  engaging  in  themfelves,  are  by  no  means  calculated  to  fucceed  upon  the 
theatre.  This  has  been  imputed  to  the  neceffity  of  introducing  the  paflion  of  love,  in  order  to  make 
a  tragedy  interefting.  But  this  is  by  no  means  the  cafe.  The  tragedies  of  Shakfpeare,  the  Atbatirt 
the  Merofe,  and  the  Qrpbelin  de  la  Cline,  of  the  French  theatre,  have  been  fuccefsful  without  this  fnb- 
fidiary  aid.  In  reality,  nothing  more  is  requifite  than  an  event  full  of  anxiety  and  uncertainty,  and 
fubject  to  the  greateft  and  moft  unexpected  changes  of  fortune.  Addifon  found  the  inability  of  fup- 
porting  the  rcprefentation  of  five  acts,  merely  by  the  patriotifm  of  Cato.  Logan  has  alfo  found  the  ne 
ceffity  of  recurring  to  the  aid  of  an  improbable  love-tale.  Exclufive  of  the  injudicioufnefs  of  this  ctr- 
cumftancc,  it  muft  be  allowed  to  be  a  very  interefting  and  pathetic  performance.  The  diction  is  ner 
vous  and  elegant ;  though  it  is  fometimes  deficient  in  grace,  and  fometimes  chargeable  with  redun 
dancy  and  amplification.  It  has  many  paffages  highly  dramatic  and  highly  poetical.  It  has  a 
beauty  directly  the  reverfe  of  amplification.  He  not  unfrequently  concenters  a  thought  which  an 
vnfkilful  poet  would  have  dilated,  in  a  very  few  word?,  and  by  that  means  gives  it  a  high  degree  of 
force  and  pathos.  The  whole  performance  is  animated  with  the  nobleft  enthuCafm  for  liberty,  and 
is  (lamped  with  the  peculiar  characters  of  genius.  The  fpiritcd  addrefs  to  King  John,  which  is  put 
into  the  mouth  of  EMne,  afferting  the  natural  rights  of  mankind,  in  oppofition  to  tyranny  and  op- 
preflion,  is  the  moft  fingular  paffage  in  the  piay.  But  it  is  liiQku'.t  to  imereft  the  generality  of 
readers  in  fentiments  of  public  virtue,  which  are  in  a  great  meafure  peculiar  to  minds  of  a  fuperior 
order. 

In  his  Odes  he  is  rather  characterifed  by  the  fprightly  and  tender,  than  by  the  fublime  ;  yet  his 
tnufe  preferves  her  dignity,  and  mains  that  pleafing  wildnefs,  that  excurfive  humour,  which  neceffa- 
rily  enter  into  the  genius  of  lyric  poetry.  She  difcovers  not  by  the  barbarity  of  her  accent,  and 
the  harflinefs  of  her  numbers,  that  (he  has  acquired  her  firft  ideas  of  harmony  and  modulation  north 
of  the  Tweed.  The  numbers  are  eafy,  the  language  is  eicgant,  and  the  :arzas  are  regular  through 
out.  The  regular  meafure  is  always  preferable  to  looie  aid  irregular  numbers,  while  the  length  and 
variety  of  the  ftanza  prevent  the  difguft  of  monotony;  becaufe  in  poetry,  as  in  mufic,  it  is  nectfiary 
that  there  fhould  be  a  proportion  of  parts,  fo  that  the  car  fhould  be  accuft<  med  with  the  modulation. 
The felection  of  his  fubjects  difplays  at  once  the  delicacy  of  his  tafte,*and  the  fenfibility  of  his  ht.  rt. 
The  Ode  to  the  Cucioo,  which  he  is  fuppofed  to  have  written,  and  certainly  improved,  is  aiftinguilh- 
ed  by  the  delicate  graces  of  fimplicky  and  tendernefs,  m  th-  higheft  degree.  The  hint  of  ihis  exqui- 
Cte  performance  was  probably  taken  from  "  A  Song  to  the  vackoo,"  the  earlieft  fpecimen  of  fongw 


THE  LIFE  OF  LOGAN. 
writing  extant  in  our  language ;  but  the  train  of  the  thoughts  is  purely  original.  His  Ode  tt  Women 
is  fprightly  and  poetical,  but  inclines  more  to  the  beautiful  than  to  the  fublime  fpecies  of  lyric  com- 
pofition.  It  is  more  in  the  manner  of  Anacreou  than  Pindar.  We  cannot,  however,  admk  that 
any  modern  breathes  the  true  fpirit  of  Anacreon.  There  is,  in  the  found  of  the  Teian  lyre,  an  ir- 
refiftible  and  ineffable  magic,  when  flruck  by  the  hand  of  its  original  mafter,  which  no  other  touch 
can  extort.  His  Odes  written  in  Spring  and  Autumn^  and  his  other  defcriptive  and  allegorical  per 
formances,  are  not  deftitute  of  pathetic  fentiment  and  agreeable  defcription;  but  their  fpirit  and  ge 
nius  are  of  a  more  abftracted  kind,  and  will  be  moft  admired  by  thole  few  congenial  minds,  who 
can  difcern  and  feel  the  finer  influences  of  fancy,  who  can  enjoy  the  enthuGafm  of  vifionary  com- 
niunications,  and  afpire  to  the  regions  of  ideal  exiftcnce.  But,  abftracted  from  all  external  praife, 
there  is  a  charm  in  the  indulgence  of  poetic  fancy  ;  and  in  this  refpect  poetry,  like  virtue,  is  its  own 
reward. 

Of  his  Lows  and  Tale  the  fentiments  are  delicate  and  noble,  and  the  narration  is  animated  and 
agreeable.  He  judicioufly  avoids  that  minutenefs,  which  anticipates  every  reflection  of  the  read 
er,  and  fupports  attention  without  an  affectation  of  brilliancy,  and  without  wandering  from  his 
purpofe,  like  an  ordinary  artift,  in  fearch  of  flowers  and  embellifhment.  He  well  knew  that  poetry, 
when  it  fails  t»  intereft  the  affections,  is  no  longer  th.e  animated  language  of  nature.  His  Bran  of 
Yarrt-w  is  an  imitation  of  Hamilton's  beautiful  ballad  of  that  name ;  but  his  flory  of  the  bereaved 
bride  furpaffes  the  original.  Ovid,  Fropertias,  and  Tibullus,  never  compofed  a  more  affecting  and 
impaffioned  elegy.  The  poem  on  Hero  and  Leander  cannot  boaft  a  ftronger  infufion  of  the  ibft 
and  tender,  of  energy  and  patjios. 

His  Hymns  may  challenge  a  comparifon  with  the  moft  popular  compofitions  of  that  kind  in  our 
language;  but  they  add  little  to  his  poetical  reputation.  Moft  of  them  were  originally  printed, 
with  fome  variations,  in  the  collection  of  "  Tranflations  and  Paraphrafes  of  Sacred  Scripture," 
1781,  ufed  in  public  worfliip  in  Scotland.  It  appears  from  a  copy  of  the  "  Paraphrafes,  &c."  in 
the  poffeffion  of  Dr.  Robertfon,  in  which  the  feveral  authors  are  diftinguifhed  by  Logan,  that  he 
is  the  moft  considerable,  as  well  as  the  moft  poetical  contributor  to  that  collection  of  facred  poems. 
In  majefty  and  fublimity  of  fentiment,  grandeur  and  folemnity  of  defcription,  and  beauty  and  fim- 
plicity  of  exprefEon,  he  maintams  a  diftinguifhed  fuperiority  over  his  competitors.  His  verfion  of 
Geniftt  xxvii.  20 — a*,  has  exceeding  merit.  If  his  efforts  to  fmooth  the  path  of  duty  by  the  pow 
ers  of  imagination,  and  to  win  our  attention  to  the  precepts  of  life  by  ornament  and  harmony,  are 
fometimes  unfuccefsful,  his  motives  at  leaft  deferve  applaufe.  He  is  even  entitled  to  fome  praife, 
for  having  done  better  than  others,  what  no  verfifier  of  the  facred  writings  has  done  well.  "  Poetical 
devotion,"  to  ufe  the  emphatical  words  of  Dr.  Johnfon,  in  bis  Life  of  Waller,  "  cannot  often  pleafe. 
Contemplative  piety,  or  the  intercourfe  between  God  and  the  human  foul,  cannot  be  poetical. 
Man,  admitted  to  implore  the  mercy  of  his  Creator,  and  plead  the  merits  of  his  Redeemer,  is  al 
ready  in  a  higher  ftatc  than  poetry  can  confer.  Whatever  is  great,  defirable,  or  tremendous,  i* 
compriftd  in  the  name  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Omnipotence  cannot  be  exalted,  Infinity  cannot 
be  amplified,  Perfection  cannot  be  improved.  Of  fentiments  purely  religious,  it  will  be  generally 
found  that  the  moft  Cmple  expreffiou  is  the  moft  fublime.  Poetry  lefts  its  luftre  and  its  power, 
becaufe  it  is  applied  to  the  decoration  of  fomething  more  excellent  than  itfelf.  The  ideas  of  Chrif- 
tian  theology  are  too  fimplc  for  eloquence,  too  facred  for  fiction,  and  too  majeftic  fur  ornament ;  to 
recommend  them  by  tropes  and  figures,  is  to  magnify  by  a  concave  mirror  the  Cdereal  hemif- 
phere."  But  befides  this  want  of  conformity  and  affimilanon  between  piety  and  poetry,  there  is 
another  reafon  why  the  verfification  of  the  facred  writings  fhould  not  be  attended  with  fuccefs ;  the 
want  of  conformity  and  affimilation  between  language  and  fentiment.  Nothing  can  be  more  fink 
ing  and  oppofite  than  the  different  genius  of  the  Englifh  and  the  Hebrew  poetry.  The  Eaftern  Mufe 
is  daring,  fervent,  and  unfubdued  in  her  progrefs ;  fnatching  at  figures  remote  in  their  natare  and 
difpofition,  frequently  inattentive  to  confiftency  and  connection,  defultory  in  fentiment,  and  abrupt 
in  expreffion.  Thefe  qualities  are  utterly  unfit  for  the  regular  and  limited  walks  of  rhyme.  The 
fcngs  of  Sion  will  no  mare  bend  to  the  genius  of  a  ftrange  language,  than  their  fingers  would  of  old 
to  the  commands  of  their  conquerors,  when  called  upon  to  fing  them  in  a  ftrange  land. 


THE  WORKS  OF  LOGAN. 


POEMS. 


ODE  TO  THE  CUCKOO. 

HAIL,  beauteous  flranger  of  the  grove! 

Thou  mcfienger  of  Spring  ! 
No,w  Heaven  repairs  thy  rural  feat, 

And  woods  thy  welcome  fing. 

What  time  the  daify  decks  the  green, 

Thy  certain  voice  we  hear ; 
Haft  thou  a  ftar  to  guide  thy  path, 

Or  mark  the  rolling  year  ? 

Delightful  vifitant !  with  thee 

I  hail  the  time  of  flowers, 
And  hear  the  found  of  mufic  fweet 

From  birds  among  the  bowers. 

The  fchool-boy,  wandering  through  the  wood 

To  pull  the  primrofe  gay, 
Starts,  the  new  voice  of  Spring  to  hear, 

And  imitates  thy  lay. 

What  time  the  pea  puts  on  the  bloom 

Thou  fliefl  thy  vocal  vale, 
An  annual  gucft  in  other  lands, 

Another  Spring  to  hail. 

Sweet  bird !  thy  bower  is  ever  green, 

Thy  iky  is  ever  clear; 
Thou  haft  no  forrow  in  thy  fong, 

No  winter  in  thy  year  ! 

O  could  I  fly,  I'd  fly  with  thee  ! 

We'd  make,  with  joyful  wing, 
Our  annual  vifit  o'er  the  globe, 

Companions  of  the  Spring. 


SONG. 

THE  BRAES  OF  YARROW. 

"  THY  braes  were  bonny,  Yarrow  ftream  I 
"  When  firft  on  them  I  met  my  lover ; 

"  Thy  braes  how  dreary,  Yarrow  ftream ! 
"  When  now  thy  waves  his  body  cover  ! 

"  For  ever  now,  O  Yarrow  ftream  ! 
"  Thou  art  t»  me  a  ftream  of  forrow  j 


"  For  never  on  thy  banks  mall  I 

"  Behold  my  love,  the  flower  of  Yarrow. 

"  He  promifed  me  a  milk-white  fteed, 

"  To  bear  me  to  his  father's  bowers ; 
"  He  promifed  me  a  little  page, 

"  To  "fquire  me  to  his  father's  towers ; 
"  He  promifed  me  a  wedding-ring, — 

"  The  wedding-day  was  fix'd  to-morrow  ;-•» 
"  Now  he  is  wedded  to  his  grave, 

"  Alas,  his  watery  grave  in  Yarrow ! 

"  Sweet  were  her  words  when  laft  we  met; 

"  My  paflion  I  as  freely  told  him ! 
"  Clafp'al  in  his  arms,  I  little  thought 

"  That  I  mould  never  more  behold  him ! 
"  Scarce  was  he  gone,  I  faw  his  ghoft ; 

"  It  vanifli'd  with  a  fhriek  of  forrdw ; 
"  Thrice  did  the  water-wraith  afcend, 

"  And  gave  a  doleful  groan  through  Yarrow, 

"  His  mother  from  the  window  look'd-, 

"  With  all  the  longing  of  a  mother  ; 
"  His  little  fifter  weeping  walk'd 

"  The  green-wood  path  to  meet  her  brother : 
"  They  fought  him  eaft,  they  fought  him  weft, 

"  They  fought  him  all  the  foreft  thorough  ; 
"  They  only  faw  the  cloud  of  night, 

"  They  only  heard  the  roar  of  Yarrow. 

"  No  longer  from  thy  window  look, 

"  Thou  haft  no  fon,  thou  tender  mother  ! 
"  No  longer  walk,  thou  lovely  maid ! 

"  Alas,  thou  haft  no  more  a  brother ! 
"  No  longer  feek  him  eaft  or  weft, 

"  And  iearch  no  more  the  foreft  thorough; 
"  For,  wandering  in  the  night  fo  dark, 

"  He  fell  a  lifelefs  corfe  in  Yarrow. 

"  The  tear  fliall  never  leave  my  cheek, 
"  No  other  youth  fhall  be  my  marrow ; 

"  I'll  feek  thy  body  in  the  ftream, 

•    "  And  then  with  thee  I'll  fleep  in  Yarrow.'' 

The  tear  did  never  leave  her  cheek, 
No  other  youth  became  her  marrow ; 

She  found  his  body  in  the  ilreani, 
And  now  with  him  flie  flecps  in  Yarrow. 


THE    WORKS  OF  LOGAN. 


ODE 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

THE  peace  of  Heaven  attend  thy  fhade, 
My  early  friend,  my  favourite  maid  ! 
"When  life  was  new,  companions  gay, 
\Ve  hail'd  the  morning  of  our  day. 

Ah,  with  what  joy  did  I  behold 
The  flower  of  beauty  fair  unfold ! 
And  fear'd  no  ftorm  to  blaft  thy  bloom, 
Or  bring  thee  to  an  early  tomb ! 

Untimely  gone  !  for  ever  fled 
The  rofes  of  the  cheek  fo  red ; 
Th*  affection  warm,  the  temper  mild, 
The  fweetnefs  that  in  forrow  fmil'd. 

Alas!  the  cheek  where  beauty  glow'd, 
The  heart  where  goodnefs  overflow'd, 
A  clod  amid  the  valley  lies, 
And  "  duft  to  duft"  the  mourner  cries. 

O  from  thy  kindred  early  torn, 
And  to  thy  grave  untimely  borne ! 
Vanifh'd  for  ever  from  my  view, 
Thou  fitter' of  my  foul,  adieu ! 

Fair  with  my  firft  ideas  twin'd, 
Thine  image  oft  will  meet  my  mind ; 
And,  while  remembrance  brings  thee  near, 
Affc&ion  fad  will  drop  a  tear. 

How  oft  dees  forrow  bend  thy  head, 
Before  we  dwell  among  the  dead  ! 
Scarce  in  the  years  of  manly  prime, 
I've  often  wept  the  wrecks  of  time. 

What  tragic  tears  bedew  the  eye  ! 
What  deaths  we  fuffcr  ere  we  die ! 
Our  broken  friendfhips  we  deplore, 
And  loves  of  youth  that  are  no  more  ! 

No  after-friendfhip  e'er  can  raife 
Th'  endearments  of  our  early  days ; 
And  ne'er  the  heart  fuch  fondnefs  prove, 
As  when  it  firft  began  to  love. 

Affedion  dies,  a  vernal  flower; 
And  love,  the  bloffom  of  an  hour ; 
The  fpring  of  fancy  cares  controul, 
And  mar  the  beauty  of  the  foul. 

Vers'd  in  the  commerce  of  deceit, 
How  foon  the  heart  begins  to  beat ! 
The  blood  runs  cold  at  int'reft's  call:— 
They  look  with  equal  eyes  on  all. 

Then  lovely  nature  is  expell'd, 

And  friendfhip  is  romantic  held; 

Then  prudence  comes  with  hundred  eyes;— 

The  veil  is  rent :  the  vifion  flics. 

The  dear  illufions  will  not  laft ; 
The  era  of  enchantment's  pad ; 
The  wild  romance  of  life  is  done; 
The  real  hiftory  is  begun. 

The  fallies  of  the  foul  are  o'er, 
The  feaft  of  fancy  is  no  more ; 
And  ill  the  banquet  is  fupply'd 
By  form,  by  gravity,  by  pride. 


Ye  gods !  whatever  ye  withhold,' 
Let  my  affections  ne'er  grow  old ; 
Ne'er  may  the  human  glow  depart, 
Nor  nature  yield  to  frigid  art ! 

Still  may  the  generous  bofom  burn, 
Though  doom'd  to  bleed  o'er  beauty's  urn ; 
And  ftill  the  friendly  face  appear, 
Though  moiften'd  with  a  tender  tear ! 

ODE  TO  WOMEN. 

YE  virgins !  fond  to  be  admir'd, 
With  mighty  rage  of  conqueft  fir'd, 

And  univerfal  fway ; 
Who  heave  th'  uncover'd  bofom  high, 
And  roll  a  fond,  inviting  eye, 

On  all  the  circle  gay  ! 

You  mifs  the  fine  and  fecret  art 
To  win  the  cattle  of  the  heart, 

For  which  you  all  contend ; 
The  coxcomb  tribe  may  crowd  your  train, 
But  you  will  never,  never  gain 

A  lover,  or  a  friend. 

If  this  your  paffion,  this  your  praife, 
To  Ihine,  to  dazzle,  and  to  blaze, 

You  may  be  call'd  divine : 
But  not  a  youth  beneath  the  fky 
Will  fay  in  fecret,  with  a  figh, 

"  O  were  that  maiden  mine !" 

You  marfhal,  brilliant,  from  the  box, 
Fans,  feathers,  diamonds,  caftlcd  locks, 

Your  magazine  of  arms; 
But  'tis  the  fweet  fequefter'd  walk, 
The  whifpering  hour,  the  tender  talk, 

That  gives  your  genuine  charms. 

The  nymph-like  robe,  the  natural  grace, 
The  fmile,  the  native  of  the  face, 

Refinement  without  art ; 
The  eye  where  pure  affedlion  beams, 
The  tear  from  tendernefs  that  ftreams, 

The  accents  of  the  heart; 

The  trembling  frame,  the  living  cheek. 
Where,  like  the  morning,  blufhes  break 

To  crimfon  o'er  the  bread ; 
The  look  where  fentiment  is  feen, 
Fine  paflions  moving  o'er  the  mien, 

And  all  the  foul  expreft ; 

Your  beauties  thefe  :  with  thefe  you  fhinef 
And  reign  on  high  by  right  divine, 

The  fovereigns  of  the  world ;  a 

Then  to  your  court  the  nations  flow ; 
The  mufe  with  flowers  the  path  will  ftrew, 

Where  Venus'  car  is  hurl'd. 

From  dazzling  deluges  of  fhow, 
From  Summer  noon's  meridian  glow, 

We  turn  our  aching  eye, 
To  nature's  robe  of  vernal  green, 
To  the  blue  curtain  all  ferene, 

Of  an  Autumnal  iky. 

The  favourite  tree  of  beauty's  queen, 
Behold  the  myrtle's  modeft  green, 
The  virgin  of  the  grove  5 


P    O 


Soft  from  the  circlet  of  her  ftar, 
The  tender  turtles  draw  the  car 
Of  Venus  and  of  Love. 

The  growing  charm  invites  the  eye ; 
See  morning  gradual  paint  the  fky 

With  purple  and  with  gold ! 
See  Spring  approach  with  fweet  delay  ! 
See  rofebuds  open  to  the  ray, 

And  leaf  by  leaf  unfold  ! 

We  love  th'  alluring  line  of  gVace, 
That  leads  the  eye  a  wanton  chace, 

And  lets  the  fancy  rove  ; 
The  walk  of  beauty  ever  bends, 
And  ftill  begins,  but  never  ends, 

The  labyrinth  of  love. 

At  times,  to  veil,  is  to  reveal, 
And  to  difplay,  is  to  conceal ; 

Myfterious  are  your  laws ! 
The  vifion's  finer  than  the  view; 
Her  landfcape  nature  never  drew 

So  fair  as  fancy  draws. 

A  beauty>  carelefsly  betray'd, 
Enamours  more,  than  if  difplay'd 

All  woman's  charms  were  given ; 
And,  o'er  the  bofom's  veftal  white, 
The  gauze  appears  a  robe  of  light, 

That  veils,  yet  opens,  Heav'n. 

See  virgin  Eve,  with  graces  bland, 
Frefli  blooming  from  her  Maker's  hand, 

In  orient  beauty  beam  ! 
Fair  oa  the  river-margin  laid, 
She  knew  not'that  her  image  made 

The  angel  in  the  ftream. 

Still  ancient  Eden  blooms  your  own ; 
But  artlefs  innocence  alone 

Secures  the  heavenly  poft  ; 
For  if,  beneath  an  angel's  mien, 
The  ferpent's  tortuous  train  is  feen, 

Our  Paradife  is  loft. 

O  nature,  nature,  thine  the  charmj 
Thy  colours  woo,  thy  features  warm, 

Thy  accents  win  the  heart ! 
Parifian  paint  of  every  kind, 
That  ftains  the  body  or  the  mind, 

Proclaims  the  harlot's  art. 

The  midnight  minftrel  of  the  grove, 
Who  flill  renews  the  hymn  of  love, 

And  woos  the  wood  to  hear ; 
Knows  not  the  fweetnefs  of  his  drain, 
Nor  that,  above  the  tuneful  train, 

He  charms  the  lover's  ear. 

The  zone  of  Venus,  heavenly-fine, 
Is  nature's  handy-work  divine, 

And  not  the  web  of  art ; 
And  they  who  wear  it  never  know 
To  what  enchanting  charm  they  owe 

The  empire  of  the  heart. 


OSSIAN'S  HYMN  TO  THE  SUN. 

O  THOU  whofe  beams  the  fca-girt  earth  array, 
King  of  the  fky,  and  father  of  the  day  1 


EMS.  1037 

O  fun !  what  fountain,  hid  from  human  eyes, 
Supplies  thy  circle  round  the  radiant  Ikies, 
For  ever  burning  and  for  ever  bright, 
With  heaven's  pure  fire,  and  everlafting  light  ? 
What  awful  beauty  in  thy  face  appears  ! 
Immortal  youth,  beyond  the  power  of  years ! 

When  gloomy  darknefs  to  thy  reign  refigns, 
And  from  the  gates  of  morn  thy  glory  ftunes, 
The  confcious  ftars  are  pnt  to  fudden  flight, 
And  all  the  planets  hide  their  heads  in  night ; 
The  queen  of  heaven  forfakes  th'  ethereal  plain, 
To  fink  inglorious  in  the  weftern  main. 
The  clouds  refulgent  deck  thy  golden  throne, 
High  in  the  heavens,  immortal  and  alone ! 
Who  can  abide  the  brightnefs  of  thy  face ! 
Or  who  attend  thee  in  thy  rapid  race  ? 
The  mountain-oaks,  like  their  own  leaves,  de 
cay; 

Themfelves  the  mountains  wear  with  age  away  ; 
The  boundlefs  main  that  rolls  from  land  to  land, 
Lefiens  at  times,  and  leaves  a  wafle  of  fand ; 
The  Giver  moon,  refulgent  lamp  of  night, 
Is  loft  in  heaven,  and  emptied  of  her  light : 
But  thou  for  ever  flialt  endure  the  feme, 
Thy  light  eternal,  and  unfpent  thy  flame. 

When  tempefts  with  their  train  impend  on 

high, 

Darken  the  day,  and  load  the  labouring  fky ; 
When  heaven's  wide  convex  glows  with  light 
nings  dire, 

All  ether  flaming,  and  all  earth  on  fire ; 
When  loud  and  long  the  deep-mouth'd  thunder 

rolls, 

And  peals  on  peak  redoubled  rend  the  poles ; 
If  from  the  opening  clouds  thy  form  appears, 
Her  wonted  charm  the  face  of  nature  wears ; 
Thy  beauteous  orb  reftores  departed  day, 
Looks  from  the  flcy,  and  laughs  the  florin  away. 


ODE  WRITTEN  IN  SPRING. 

No  longer  hoary  winter  reigns, 

No  longer  binds  the  ftreams  in  chains, 

Or  heaps  with  fnow  the  meads; 
Array'd  with  robe  of  rainbow-dye, 
At  laft  the  Spring  appears  on  high, 
And,  fmiling  over  earth  and  fky, 

Her  new  creation  leads. 

The  fnows  confefs  a  warmer  ray, 
The  loofen'd  ftreamlet  loves  to  ftray, 

And  echo  down  the  dale ; 
The  hills  uplift  their  fummits  green, 
The  vales  more  verdant  fpread  between, 
The  cuckoo  in  the  wood  unfeen 

Coos  ceafelefs  to  the  gale. 

The  rainbow  arching  woos  the  eye 
With  all  the  colours  of  the  fey, 

With  all  the  pride  of  Spring ; 
Now  Heaven  defcends  in  funny  ftiowers, 
The  fudden  fields  put  on  the  flowers, 
The  green  leaves  wave  upon  the  bowers, 

And  birds  begin  to  fing. 

The  cattle  wander  in  the  wood, 
And  find  the  wonted  verdant  food, 

Befide  the  well-known  rills ; 
Blithe  in  the  fun  the  fhepherd  fwain. 


THE   WORKS    OF   LOGAN. 


Like  Pan  attunes  the  paft'ral  ftrain, 
"While  many  echoes  fend  again 
The  mufic  of  the  hills. 

At  eve,  the  primrofe  path  along, 
The  milkmaid  fhortens  with  a  fong 

Her  folitary  way ; 

She  fees  the  fairies,  with  their  queen, 
Trip  hand-in-hand  the  circled  green, 
And  hears  them  raife  at  times,  unfeen, 

The  ear-inchanting  lay. 

Maria,  come !  Now  let  us  rove, 
Now  gather  garlands  in  the  grove, 

Of  every  new-fprung  flower : 
"We'll  hear  the  warblings  of  the  wood, 
We'll  trace  the  windings  of  the  flood ; 
O  come  thou,  fairer  jhan  the  bud 

Unfolding  in  a  fhower ! 

Fair  as  the  lily  of  the  vale, 
That  gives  its  bofom  to  the  gale, 

And  opens  in  the  fun ; 
And  fweeter  than  thy  favourite  dove, 
The  Venus  of  the  vernal  grove, 
Announcing  to  the  choirs  of  love 

Their  time  of  blifs  begun. 

Now,  now,  thy  fpring  of  life  appears ; 
Fair  in  the  morning  of  thy  years, 

And  May  of  beauty  crown'd  : 
Now  vernal  vifions  meet  thine  eyes, 
Poetic  dreams  to  fancy  rife, 
And  brighter  days  in  better  fides ; — 

Elyfium  blooms  around. 

Now,  now's  the  morning  of  thy  day; 
But,  ah !  the  morning  flies  away, 

And  youth  is  on  the  wing ; 
Tis  nature's  voice,  "  O  pull  the  rofe, 
"  Now  while  the  bud  in  beauty  blows, 
"  Now  while  the  opening  leaves  difclofe 

tt  The  incenfe  of  the  Spring!" 

What  youth,  high.favonr'dof  the  Ikies, 
What  youth  {hall  win  the  brighteft  prize 

That  nature  has  in  ftore  ? 
Whofe  confcious  eyes  fhall  meet  with  thine ; 
Whofe  arms  thy  yielding  wafte  entwine ; 
Who,  raviftYd  with  thy  charms  divine, 

Requires  of  Heaven  no  more  t 

Not  happier  the  primaeval  pair, 
When  new-made  earth,  fupremely  fair, 

Smiled  on  her  virgin  Spring ; 
When  all  was  fair  to  God's  own  eye, 
When  ftars  confenting  fung  on  high, 
And  all  Heaven's  chorus  made  the  Iky 

With  hallellujahs  ring. 

Devoted  to  the  mufes'  choir, 
I  tune  the  Caledonian  lyre 

To  themes  of  high  renown  :— 
No  other  theme  than  you  I'll  choofe, 
Than  you  invoke  no  other  mufe : 
Nor  will  that  gentle  hand  refufe 

Thy  bard  with  bays  to  crown. 

Where  hills  by  ftoried  flreams  afcend, 
My  dreams  and  waking  wilhcs  tend 
Poetic  cafe  to  woo ; 


Where  fairy  fingers  curl  the  grove, 
Where  Grecian  fpirits  round  me  rove, 
Alone  enamour'd  with  the  love 
Of  nature  and  of  you  ! 

SONG. 

THE  day  is  departed,  and  round  from  the  cloud 

The  moon  in  her  beauty  appears  ; 
The  voice  of  the  nightingale  warbles  aloud 

The  mufic  of  love  in  our  ears : 
Maria,  appear!  now  the  feafon  fo  fweet 

With  the  beat  of  the  heart  is  in  tune  ; 
The  time  is  fo  tender  for  lovers  to  meet 

Alone  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

I  cannot  when  prefent  unfold  what  I  feel, 

I  figh — Can  a  lover  do  more  ? 
Her  name  to  the  fhepherds  I  never  reveal, 

Yet  I  think  of  her  all  the  day  o'er. 
Maria,  my  love  1  Do  you  long  for  the  grove  ? 

Do  you  figh  for  an  interview  foon  ? 
Does  e'er  a  kind  thought  run  on  me  as  you  rove^ 

Alone  by  the  light  of  the  moon  ? 

Your  name  from  the  ftiepherds  whenever  I  hear, 

My  bofom  is  all  in  a  glow ; 

Your   voice   when  it  vibrates  fo  fweet  through 
mine  ear, 

My  heart  thrills— .my  eyes  overflow. 
Ye  powers  of  the  fky,  will  your  bounty  divine 

Indulge  a  fond  lover  his  boon  ? 
Shall  heart  fpring  to  heart,  and  Maria  be  mine, 

Alone  by  the  light  of  the  moon  ? 

ODE  TO  SLEEP. 

IN  vain  I  court  till  dawning  light, 
The  coy  divinity  of  night ; 
Refllefs  from  fide  to  fide  I  turn, 
Arife,  ye  mufings  of  the  morn  ! 

Oh,  Sleep!  though  banifh'd from  thofe  eyes, 
In  vifions  fair  to  Delia  rife; 
And  o'er  a  dearer  form  diffufe 
Thy  healing  balm,  thy  lenient  dews. 

Blefl  be  her  night  as  infants  reft, 
Lull'd  on  the  fond  maternal  breaft, 
Who  fweetly-playful  fmiles  in  fleep, 
Nor  knows  that  he  is  born  to  weep. 

Remove  the  terrors  of  the  night, 
The  phantom-forms  of  wild  affright, 
The  ihrieks  from  precipice  or  flood, 
And  flatting  fcene  that  fwims  with  blood. 

Lead  her  aloft  to  blooming  bowers, 
And  beds  of  amaranthine  flowers, 
And  golden  fkies,  and  glittering  ftreams, 
That  paint  the  paradife  of  dreams. 

Venus !  prefent  a  lover  near, 
And  gently  whifper  in  her  ear 
His  woes,  who,  lonely  and  forlorn, 
Counts  the  flow  clock  from  night  till  morn. 

Ah  !  let  no  portion  of  my  pain, 
Save  jufl  a  tender  trace,  remain ; 
Afleep  confenting  to  be  kind, 
And  wake  with  Daphnis  in  her  mind. 


POEMS. 


1035 


ODE  TO  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

MARIA  bright  with  beauty's  glow, 
In  confcious  gaiety  you  go 

The  pride  of  ail  the  park : 
Attracted  groupes  in  filence  gaze, 
And  foft  behind  you  hear  the  praife 

And  whifper  of  the  fpark. 

In  fancy's  airy  chariot  whirl'd, 
You  make  the  circle  of  the  world, 

And  dance  a  dizzy  round  ; 
The  maids  and  kindling  youths  behold 
You  triumph  o'er  the  envious  old, 

The  queen  of  beauty  crown'd. 

Where'er  the  beams  of  fortune  blaze, 
Or  fafhion's  whifpering  zephyr  plays, 

The  infe<St  tribe  attends ; 
Gay-glittering  through  a  fummer'sday, 
The  filken  myriads  melt  away 

Before  a  fun  defcends. 

Divorc'd  from  elegant  delight, 
The  vulgar  Venus  holds  her  night 

An  alien  to  the  fkies ; 
Her  bofom  breathes  no  finer  fire, 
No  radiance  of  divine  defiro 

Illumes  refponfive  eyes. 

Gods  '.  (hall  a  fordid  fon  of  earth 
Enfold  a  form  of  heavenly  birth, 

And  ravifh  joys  divine  ? 
An  angel  blefs  unconfcious  arms  ? 
The  circle  of  furrender'd  charms 

Unhallowed  hands  entwine  ? 

The  abfent  day  ;  the  broken  dream ; 
The  vifion  wild;  the  fudden  fcream; 

Tears  thafunbidden  flow  ! — 
Ah  !  let  no  fenfe  of  griefs  profound, 
That  beauteous  bofom  ever  wound 

With  unavailing  woe ! 

The  wild  enchanter  youth  beguiles, 
And  fancy's  fairy  landfcape  fmiles 

With  more  than  nature's  bloom  ; 
The  fpring  of  Eden  paints  your  bowers, 
Unfetting  funs  your  promis'd  hours 

With  golden  light  illuraet 

A  hand  advancing  ftrikes  the  bell ! 
That  found  diffolves  the  magic  fpell, 

And  all  the  charm  is  gone  ! 
The  vifionary  landfcape  flies : 
At  once  th'  aerial  mufic  dies ; 

In  wild  you  walk  alone ! 

Howe'er  the  wind  of  fortune  blows, 
Or  fadly-fevering  fate  difpofe 

Our  everlafting  doom ; 
Impreffions  never  felt  before, 
And  tranfports  to  return  no  more, 

Will  haunt  me  to  the  tomb  ! 

My  God  !  the  pangs  of  nature  paft, 
Will  e'er  a  kind  remembrance  lafl 

Of  pleafures  fadly  1'weet  ? 
Can  love  affume  a  calmer  name  ? 
My  eyes  with  friendfhip's  angel-flame 

An  angel's  beauty  meet  ? 


Ah !  fhould  that  firfl  of  finer  forms 
Require,  through  life's  impending  ftorms, 

A  fympathy  of  foul ; 
The  lov'd  Maria  of  the  mind 
Will  fend  me,  on  the  wings  of  wind, 

To  Indus  or  the  Pole. 


Lo,  Winter's  hoar  dominion  paft  ! 
Arrefted  in  his  eaftern  blaft 

The  fiend  of  nature  flies; 
Breathing  the  Spring,  the  zephyrs  play, 
And  re-enthron'd  the  lord  of  day 

Refumes  the  golden  fkies. 

Attendant  on  the  genial  hours, 
The  voluntary  fhades  and  flowers 

For  rural  lovers  fpring ; 
Wild  choirs  unfeen  in  concert  join, 
And  round  A  polio's  ruftic  fhriiie 

The  fylvan  mufes  fing. 

The  flneft  vernal  bloom  that  blows, 
The  fweeteft  voice  the  foreft  knows, 

Arife  to  vanifli  foon  ; 
The  rofe  unfolds  her  robe  of  light, 
And  Philomela  gives  her  night 

To  Richmond  and  to  June. 

With  bounded  ray,  and  tranfient  grace, 
Thus,  Varro,  holds  the  human  race 

Their  place  and  hour  aflign'd ; 
Loud  let  the  venal  trumpet  found, 
Refponfive  never  will  rebound 

The  echo  of  mankind. 

Yon  forms  divine  that  deck  the  fphere, 
The  radiant  rulers  of  the  year, 

Confefs  a  nobler  hand ; 
Thron'd  in  the  majefty  of  morn, 
Behold  the  king  of  day  adorn 

The  fkies,  the  fea,  the  land. 

Nor  did  th'  Almighty  raife  the  flcy,  • 
Nor  hang  th'  eternal  lamps  on  high, 

On  one  abode  to  fhine ; 
The  circle  of  a  thoufand  funs 
Extends,  while  nature's  period  run* 

The  theatre  divine. 

Thus  feme,  whom  fmiliag  nature  hailf 
To  facred  fprings,  and  chofen  vales, 

And  ftreams  of  old  renown  ; 
By  noble  toils  and  worthy  fears, 
Shall  win  their  manfion  'mid  the  ftars, 

And  wear  th'  immortal  crown. 

Bright  in  the  firmament  of  fame 
The  lights  of  ancient  ages  flame 

With  never  fetting  ray, 
On  worlds  unfound  from  hiftory  torn, 
O'er  ages  deep  in  time  unborn, 

To  pour  the  human  day. 

Won  from  neglected  waftes  of  time, 
Apollo  hails  his  faireft  clime, 
The  provinces  of  mind ; 


••1040 


THE    WORKS   OF   LOGAN. 


An  Fgypt  *,  with  eternal  towers, 
See  Montefquieu  redeem  the  hours, 
From  Ltwis,  to  mankind. 

No  tame  remiffion  genius  knows  ; 
No  interval  of  dark  repofe, 

To  quench  the  ethereal  flame  ; 
From  Thebes  to  Troy  the  vi&or  hies, 
And  Homer  with  his  hero  vies 

In  varied  paths  to  fame. 

The  orb  which  rul'd  thy  natal  night 
And  ufher'd  in  a  greater  light 

Than  fets  ihe  pole  on  fire, 
Wuh  undiminifh'd  luiirc  crown'd, 
Unwearied  walks  th'  eternal  round, 

Amid  the  heav'nly  quire. 

Proud  in  triumphal  chariot  hurl'd, 
And  crown  M  the  mafter  of  the  world, 

Ah  !  let  not  Fhilip's  ion, 
His  fot>l  in  Syrian  foftnefs  drown'd, 
His  brows  with  Perfian  garlands  bound. 

The  race  of  pleafure  run  ! 

With  crofling  thoughts  Alcides  preft, 
The  awful  goddefs  thus  addreft, 

And  pointing  to  the  prize  : 
"  Behold  the  wreath  of  glory  Ihine! 
u  .-ind  mark  the  onward  path  divine 

«  That  opens  to  the  fkies  ! 

«'  The  heavenly  fire  muft  ever  burn, 
"  The  hero's  ftep  muft  never  turn 

"  From  yon  fublime  abodes  ; 
K  Long  muft  thy  life  of  labours  prove 
"  At  laft  to*  die  the  fon  of  Jove, 

"  And  mingle  with  the  gods." 

THE  LOVERS. 

[The  lovers  in  the  following  poem  were  defcended 
of  houfes  that  had  been  long  at  variance.  The 
'  lady  is  firfh  introduced  as  leaving  her  father's 
houfe,  and  venturing  out  in  the  darknefs  of  the 
night,  to  meet  with  her  lover.  They  meet  at 
the  appointed  hour.  The  reft  of  the  dialogue 
paiTcs  in  the  chariot.] 

Harriet, 

*Tis  midnight  dark  :  'tis  filence  deep, 
My  father's  houfe  is  hufL'd  in  fleep  ; 
In  dreams  the  lover  meets  his  bride, 
She  lees  her  lover  at  her  fide  ; 
The  mourner's  voice  is  now  fuppreft, 
A  whik  the  weary  are  at  reft  : 
'Tis  midnight  dark;  'tis  filence  deep; 
I  only  wake,  and  wake  to  weep. 

The  window's  drawn,  the  ladder  waiti, 
I  Ipy  no  watchman  at  the  gates  ; 
No  tread  re-echoes  through  the  hall, 
No  fhadow  moves  along  the  wall. 
I  am  alone     'Tis  dreary  night, 
O  come,  thou  partner  of  my  flight  ! 
Shield  me  from  darknefs,  from  alarms  ; 
O  take  me  trembling  to  thine  arms  ! 


Tkejintfl  f>r  winces  of£gyftt  gained  from,  a  nt- 
ivajle. 


The  dog  howls  difmal  in  the  heath, 

The  raven  croaks  the  dirge  of  death; 

Ah  me !  difafter's  in  the  found  \ 

The  terrors  of  the  night  are  round; 

A  fad  mifchance  my  fears  forebode, 

The  demon  of  the  dark's  abroad, 

And  lures,  with  apparition  dire, 

The  night-ftruck  man  through  flood  and  fire; 

The  howlet  fcreams  ill-boding  founds, 
The  fpirit  walks  unholy  rounds ; 
The  wizard's  hour  eclipfing  rolls ; 
The  fhades  of  hell  ufurp  the  poles ; 
The  moon  retires ;  the  heaven  departs. 
From  opening  earth  a  fpe&re  ftarts  : 
My  fpirit  dies — Away  my  fears, 
My  love,  my  life,  my  lord  appears ! 

Henry. 

\  come,  I  come,  my  love  !  my  life  ! 
And  nature's  deareft  name,  my  wife ! 
Long  have  I  lov'd  thee  ;  long  have  fought  j 
And  dangers  brav'd,  and  battles  fought ; 
In  this  embrace  our  evils  end  ; 
From  this  our  better  days  afcend  ; 
The  year  of  fuftering  now  is  o'er. 
At  laft  we  meet  to  part  no  more! 

My  lovely  bride  !  my  cenfort,  come! 
The  rapid  chariot  rolls  thee  home. 

Harriet. 

I  fear  to  go— —I  dare  not  ftay. 
Look  back. 1  dare  not  look  that  way. 

Henry. 

No  evil  ever  fhall  betide 
My  love,  while  I  am  at  her  fide. 
Lo  !  thy  protector  and  thy  friend, 
The  arms  that  fold  thee  will  defend. 

Harriet. 

Still  beats  my  bofom  with  alarms : 
I  tremble  while  I'm  in  thy  arms ! 
What  will  impaffion'd  lovers  do  ? 
What  have  I  done— to  follow  you  ? 
I  leave  a  father  torn  with  fears; 
1  leave  a  mother  bath'd  in  tears; 
A  brother  girding  on  his  fword, 
Againft  my  life,  againft  my  lord. 

Now,  without  father,  mother,  friend, 
On  thee  my  future  days  depend  ; 
Wilt  thou,  forever  true  to  love, 
A  father,  mother,  brother  prove  ? 
O  Henry  !— — to  thy  arms  I  fall, 
My  friend !  my  hufband  !  and  my  all ! 
Alas  !  what  hazards  may  I  run  ? 
Shouldft  thou  forfake  me— I'm  undone. 

Henry. 

My  Harriet,  diflipate  thy  fears, 
And  let  a  hufbund  wipe  thy  tears ; 
For  ever  join'd  our  fates  combine, 
And  I  am  yours,  and  you  are  mine. 
The  fires  the  firmament  that  rend, 
On  this  devoted  head  defceud, 
If  e'er  in  thought  from  thee  1  rove, 
Or  love  thee  lei's  than  now  I  love ! 

Although  our  fathers  have  been  foeSj 
From  hatred  ftronger,  love  arofc; 


O    E    M    S. 


1041 


From  advjrfe  briars  that  threat'ning  flood, 
And  threw  a  horror  o'er  the  wood, 
Two  lovely  rofes  met  on  high. 
Tranfplanted  to  a  better  fky, 
And,  graft<  d  in  one  flock,  they  grow, 
In  union  fpring,  in  beauty  blow. 

Hjrrlci. 

My  heart  believes  my  love  ;  but  ftill 
My  boding  i.iind  prefaces  ill : 
For  lucklefs  ever  was  our  love, 
Dark  as  the  Iky  that  hang  above. 
While  we  embraced,  we  fhook  with  fears, 
And  with  our  kiflVs  mingled  tears ; 
We  met  with  murmurs  and  with  fighs, 
And  parted  (till  with  watery  eyes. 

An  unforcfeen  and  fatal  hand 

Crofs'd  all  the  meafures  love  had  plann'd; 

intrufion  marr'd  the  tender  hour, 

A  demon  ftarted  in  the  bower ; 

If,  like  the  paft,  the  future  run, 

And  my  dark  day  is  but  begun, 

What  clouds  may  hang  above  my  head  ? 

What  tears  may  I  have  yet  to  fhed  ? 

Henry. 

O  do  not  wound  that  gentle  breaft, 
Nor  fink,  with  fancied  ills  oppreft ; 
For  foftnefs,  fweetnefs,  all,  thou  art, 
And  love  is  virtue  in  thy  heart. 
That  bofom  ne'er  fliall  heave  again 
But  to  the  poet's  tender  (train  ; 
And  never  more  thefe  eyes  o'erflow 
But  for  a  haplels  lover's  woe. 

Long  on  the  ocean  temper-toft, 
At  laft  we  gain  the  happy  coafl ; 
And  fafe  recount  upon  the  fhore 
Our  fuflerings  paft,  and  dangers  o'er : 
Paft  fcenes  ;  the  woes  we  wept  erewhi!e 
Will  make  our  future  minutes  fmile  : 
When  fudden  joy  from  forrow  fprings, 
How  the  heart  thrills  through  all  its  firings  ! 

Harriet. 

My  father's  caftle  fprings  40  fight ; 
Ye  towers  that  gave  me  to  the  light ! 
O  hills!  O  vales  !  where  I  have  play'd; 
Ye  woods,  that  wrap  me  in  your  {hade  ! 
O  fcenes  I've  often  wander'd  o'er  1 

0  fcenes  I  fhall  behold  no  more ! 

1  take  a  long,  laft,  lingering  view : 
Adieu  !  my  native  land  adieu  ! 

O  father,  mother,  brother  dear  ! 
O  names  ftill  utter'd  with  a  tear  ! 
Upon  whofe  knees  I've  fat  and  fmiTd, 
Whofe  griefs  my  blandifhmtnts  beguil'd; 
Whom  I  forfake  in  forrows  old, 
Whom  I  fhall  never  more  behold  ! 
Farewel,  my  friends,  a  long  farewel, 
Till  time  fhall  toll  the  funeral  knell ! 

ffenry. 

Thy  friends,  thy  father's  houfe  refign  ; 
My  friends,  my  houf;:,  my  all  is  thine, 
Awake,  arife,  my  wedded  wife, 
To  higher  thoughts,  and  happier  life  ! 
Tor  thee  the  marriage  feaft  is  fprcad, 
For  thee  the  virgins  deck  the  biidj 
VOL.  XI. 


The  ftar  of  Venus  (nines  abovf, 
And  all  thy  future  life  is  love. 

They  rile,  the  dear  domeftic  hours ! 
The  May  of  love  unfolds  her  flow'rs ; 
Youth,  beauty,  uleafure  fpread  the  feaft, 
And  fricndfhip  fits  a  conftant  gueft  ; 
In  cheerful  peace  the  morn  afcends, 
In  wine  and  love  the  evening  ends ; 
At  diftance  grandeur  fheds  a  ray, 
To  gild  the  evening  of  our  day. 

Connubial  love  has  dearer  names, 
And  finer  ties,  and  fweeter  claims, 
Than  e'er  unwedded  hearts  can  feel, 
Than  wedded  hearts  can  e'er  reveal ; 
Pure  as  the  charities  above, 
Rife  the  fweet  fympathies  of  love; 
And  clofer- cords  than  thofe  of  life 
Unite  the  hufband  to  the  wife. 

Like  cherubs  new  come  from  the  fkies, 
Henrys  and  Harriets  round  us  rife; 
And  playing  wanton  in  the  hall, 
With  accent  fweet  their  parents  call ; 
To  your  fair  images  I  run, 
You  clafp  the  hufband  in  the  fon  ; 
O  how  the  mother's  heart  will  bound! 
O  how  the  father's  joy  be  crown'd  '. 

A  TALE. 

WHERE  paft'ral  Tweed,  renown'd  in  fong, 

With  rapid  murmur  flows  ; 
In  Caledonia's  claflic  ground, 

The  hall  of  Arthur  rofe. 

A  braver  Briton  never  arm'd 

To  guard  his  native  ifle  ; 
A  gentler  friend  did  never  make* 

The  focial  circle  fmile. 

Twice  he  arofe,  from  rebel  rage 

To  fave  the  Uritiih  crown; 
And  in  the  iic-ld  where  heroes  drove 

Ke  won  him  high  renown. 

But  to  the  ploughfliare  turn'd  the  fword, 

When  bloody  war  did  ceafe  ; 
And  in  the  arbour  which  he  rear'd, 

He  rais'd  the  fong  of  peace. 

An  only  daughter  in  his  age 

Solac'd  a  tathei's  care  ; 
And  ail  the  country  bleis'd  the  name 

Of  Emily  the  fair. 

The  picture  of  her  mother's  youth, 

(Now  fainted  in  the  fky)  ; 
She  was  the  angel  of  his  age, 

And  apple  of  his  eye. 

Something  unfeen  o'er  all  her  form 

Did  namelefs  grace  impart ; 
A  fecret  charm  that  won  the  way 

At  once  into  the  heart. 

Her  eye  the  pure  etherial  blue, 

Than  that  did  fairer  (how, 
Whene'er  (he  watch'd  a  father's  lookk 

Or  wept  a  lover's  woe  : 


THE   WORKS 

For  now  the  lover  of  her  youth 

To  Indian  climes  had  rov'd, 
To  conquer  fortune's  cruel  rage, 

And  match  the  maid  he  lov'd. 

Her  voice,  the  gentle  tone  of  love, 

The  heart  a  captive  ftole  ; 
The  tender  accent  of  her  tongue 

Went  thrilling  through  the  fouL 

The  graces,  that  for  nature  fair 

Prefent  us  mimic  art ; 
The  falfe  refinements  that  refine 

Away  the  human  heart, 

She  knew  not ;  in  the  fimple  robe 

Of  elegance,  and  eafe, 
Complete  (lie  (hone,  and  ever  pleas'd^ 

Without  the  thought  to  pleafe, 

JnftrucT:  th'  implanted  foreft  crab 

To  leave  its  genius  wild  ; 
Subdue  the  monfter  of  the  wood, 

And  make  the  favage  mild  : 

But  who  would  giv«  the  rofe  a  hue, 

Which  nature  has  not  giv'n  ? 
But  who  would  tarce  the  nightingale^ 

Oi  bring-  the  lark  from  heav'n  ? 

'  The  father  wntching  o'er  his  child, 

The  joy  of  fathers  found  ; 
And,  bl'efl  himiclf,  he  ftretch'd  his  hand, 
To  blets.  the  neighbours  round, 

A  patriarch  in  the  vale  of  peace, 

To  all  he  gave  the  law  ^ 
The  good  he  guarded  in  their  rights, 

And  kept  the  bad  in  awe. 

J.ord  of  his  own  ga-ternal  field, 

He  liberal  dealt  his  ftor.e  : 
And  cali'd  the  ftranger  to  his  feaft^ 

The  beggar  to  his  door. 

But,  ah  !  what  mortal  knows  the  hour 

Of  fate  ?     A  hand  unfeen 
Upon  the  curtain  ever  refts, 

And  fudricn  fliifts  the  fcene. 

Arthur  was  furcty  for  his  friend, 

Who  fled  to  foreign  climes, 
And  left  him  to  the  gripe  of  law,,  ' 

The  viftim  of  his  crimes. 

The  fun,  that,  rifing  faw  him  lord 
•    Of  hill  and  valley  round, 
Beheld  him,  at  his  letting  hour, 
Without  one  foot  of  ground. 

Forth  from  the  hall  no  longer  his, 

Ke  is  a  pilgrim  gone, 
And  walks  a  ftr^nge*  oVr  the  fields 

He  lately  cali'd  his  own. 

The  blaft  of  Wister  whittled,  loud 

And  fhrill  through  the  void  hall ; 
And  lu;avy  on  his  hoary  locks 

The  mower  of  night  did  fall. 

Clafp'd  in  hii  daughter's  trembling  hand, 
He  journey '4  fad  and  flow  ; 


OF   LOGAtf, 

At  times  he  ftopt  to  look  behind, 
And  tears  began  to  flow. 

Wearied,  and  faint,  and  cold,  and  wet, 

To  (belter  he  did  hie ; 
"  Beneath  the  covert  of  this  rock, 

'•  My  daughter,  let  us  die  1" 

At  midnight  in  the  weary  wafte, 

In  forrow  fat  the  pair  ; 
She  chaff'd  his  (hiv'ring  hands,  and  wrung 

The  water  from  his  hair. 

The  figh  fpontaneous  rofe,  the  tear 

Involuntary  flow'd ; 
No  word  of  comfort  could  (he  fpeak, 

Nor  would  (lie  weep  aloud. 

"  In  yonder  hall  my  fathers  liv'd, 

"  In  yonder  hall  they  died  ; 
"  Now  in  that  church-yard's  aifle  they  deep, 

"  Each  by  his  fpoufe's  fide. 

"  Oft  have  1  made  yon  hall  refound 

"  With  focial  fweet  delight; 
"  And  marked  not  the  morning  hour, 

"  That  ftole  upon  the  night. 

''  When  there  the  wanderers  of  the  dark, 

Repofing,  ceas'd  to  roam  ; 
"   And  ftrangers,  happy  in  the  hall, 

"  Did  find  themfelves  at  home : 

"  I  little  thought  that,  thus  forlern, 

"  In  deferts  I  fhould  bide, 
"  And  have  not  where  to  lay  the  head, 

"  Amid  the  world  fo  wide  ?'' 

A  ftranger,  wandering  through  the  wood, 

Beheld  the  hapiefs  pair  ; 
Long  did  he  look  in  lilence  fad, 

Then  Ihriek'd  as  in  defpair. 

He  ran,  and  lowly  at  the  feet 

Of  his  late  lord  he  fell ; 
"  Alas,  my  mafter,  have  I  liv'd 

"  To  bid  your  houfe  farewel  1 

"  But  I  will  never  bid  adieu 

''  To  him  I  pris'd  fo  high : 
"  As  with  my  mafter  I  have  liv'd, 

"  I'll  with  my  mafter  die. 

"  I  faw  the  Summer-friend,  who  fliar'd 

"  The  banquet  Jn  your  hall, 
"  Depart,  nor  caft  one  look  behind 

"  On  the  forfaken  wall. 

"  I  faw  the  daily,  nightly  gueft 
'•'  The  changing  fcene  forfak(*; 

"  Nor  drop  a  tear,  nor  turn  his  fteps 
"  The  long  farewel  to  take : 

"  Then  to  the  fervice  of  my  lord 

"  I  vow'd  a  throbbing  heart ; 
"  And  in  the  changes  of  your  life 

"  To  bear  an  humble  part. 

"  Forgive  the  fond  officious  zeal 

"  Of  one  that  loves  his  lord  ! 
"  The  new  poffeffor  of  your  fielfj 

"  Afupplidnt  limpler'if 


POEMS. 


n  I  told  the  treachery  of  your  friend, 

"  The  ftory  of  your  woe, 
**  And  fought  his  favour,  when  I  faw 

"  His  tears  begin  to  flow. 

"  I  afk'd  the  hamlet  of  the  hill, 

"  The  lone  fequetter'd  feat, 
*'  Your  chofen  haunt  and  favourite  bower, 

"  To  be  your  laft  retreat. 

*'  I  ofler'd — what  was  all  your  own— 

"  The  gold  I  had  in  (lore  ; 
*'  Low  at  his  feet  I  fell,  and  wept 

"  That  i  could  give  no  more. 

"  Your  gold  isyour's,"  the  generous  youth 

With  gentle  accent  faid ; 
"  Your  matter's  be  that  little  field, 

"  And  cheerful  be  his  fhed  ! " 

«'  Now  Heav'n  has  heard  ray  prayer ;  I've  wifli'd 

"  I  could  in  part  repay 
"  The  favours  your  extended  hand 

"  Beftow'dfrom  day  to  day. 

«'  I  yet  may  fee  a  garland  green 

"  Upon  the  hoary  head  ; 
"  Yet  fee  my  matter  bieft,  before 

'«  I  dwell  among-  the  dead  !" 

In  filence  Arthur  look'd  to  Heav'n, 

And  clafp'd  his  Edwin's  hand  5 
The  eyes  of  Emily  in  tears 

Exprefs'd  affection  bland. 

From  opening  heaven  the  moon  appear'd  ; 

Fair  was  the  face  of  night ; 
Bright  in  their  beauty  fhone  the  ftars; 

The  air  was  flowing  light. 

Arthur  refum'd  the  pilgrim's  ftaff; 

They  held  their  lonely  way. 
Dim  through  the  foreil's  darkfome  bourne, 

Till  near  the  dawning  day. 

Then  a  long  line  of  ruddy  light, 

That  quiver'd  to  and  fro, 
Reveal'd  their  lone  retreat,  and  clos'd 

The  pilgrimage  of  woe. 

He  enter'd  folemn,  flow,  and  fad, 

The  deftin'd  hermitage, 
A  little  and  a  lonely  hut, 

To  cover  haplefs  age. 

He  clafp'd  his  daughter  in  his  arms, 

And  kifs'd  a  falling  tear ; 
"  I  have  my  all,  ye  gracious  powers  ! 

"  I  have  my  daughter  here  !*' 

A  fober  banquet  to  prepare> 

Emilia  cheerful  goes ; 
The  faggot  blaz'd  the  window  glanc'dt 

The  heart  of  age  arofe. 

««  I  would  not  be  that  guilty  man, 

"   With  all  his  golden  (lore ; 
«<  Nor  change  my  lot  with  any  wretch 

««  That  counts  his  thoufands  o'er. 

«<  Now  here  at  laft  we  are  at  home, 
«  We  c?n  no  lower  fall  i 


Low  in  the  cottage  peace  can  dwell, 
"  As  in  the  lordly  hall. 

The  wants  of  nature  are  but  few  ; 
"   Her  banquet  loon  isipread  ; 
The  tenant  of  the  vale  of  tears 
"  Require^  but  daily  bread. 

:  The  food  that  grows  in  every  field 
•;   Will  life  and  health  prolong ; 
And  water  from  the  fpring  fuffice 
"  To  quench  the  thirfty  tongue. 

But  all  the  Indies,  with  their  wealth, 
"  And  earth,  and  air,  andfeas, 
Will  never  quench  the  fickly  third 
"  And  craving  of  diieafe. 

My  humble  garden  to  my  hand 
"  Contentment's  feaft  will  yield; 
And,  in  the  feafon,  harveft  white 
*  Will  load  ray  little  field. 

Like  nature's  fimple  children  here, 
"  With  nature's  felt" we'll  live, 
And,  of  the  iittle  that  is  left, 
"  Have  fomething,ilill  to  give. 

The  fad  vicifiitudrs  of  life 
<:  Long  have  I  learn'd  to  bear; 
But,  oh  !  iny  daughter,  thou  art  new 
"  To  forrow  and  to  care  1     > 

How  fliall  that  fine  and  flow'ry  form« 
"  In  filken  folds  confin'd, 
That  fcarcely  fac'd  the  Summer's  gale, 
"  Endure  the  Wint'ry  wind  ?          , 

Ah  \  how  wilt  thou  foftain  a  fky 
"  With  angry  temped  red  ? 
How  wilt  thou  bear  the  bitter  ftorm 
"  That's  hanging  o'er  thy  head  ? 

Whate'er  thy  juftice  doom?,  O  God  '. 
"  I  take  with  temper  mild; 
But,  oh  !  repay  it  thoufand-fold 
"  In  bleflings  on  my  child  I" 

Weep  not  for  me,  thou  father  fond  '."' 
The  virgin  foft  did  fay  ; 
Could  I  contribute  to  thy  peace, 
"  O,  I  would  blefs  the  day  • 

The  Parent  who  provides  for  all, 

"  For  us  will  now  provide  ; 

Thefe  hands  have  learn'd  the  gayer  arts 

"  Of  elagance  and  pride; 

What  once  amus'd  a  vacant  hour, 
"  Shall  now  the  day  engage; 
And  vanity  fliall  fpread  the  board 
"  Of  poverty  and  age. 

At  eventide,  how  blithe  we'll  meet, 
"  And,  while  the  faggots  blaze, 
1  Recount  the  trifles  of  the  time, 
"  And  dream  of  better  days ! 

1  I'll  read  the  tragic  tales  of  old, 

"  To  footh  a  father's  woes ; 
•  I'll  lay  the  pillow  for  thy  head, 

"  And  fing  thee  to  repife." 


1044 

The  father  wept.    "  Thy  wond'rous  hand, 

"  Almighty,  I  adore  '. 
41  I  had  not  known  how  bled  I  was, 

"  Had  I  not  been  fo  poor ! 

"  Now  bleft  be  God  for  what  is  reft, 
M  And  bleft  for  what  is  given  '. 

«'  Thou  art  an  angel,  O  my  child  ! 
"  With  thee  I  dwell  in  heaven  !" 

Then,  in  the  garb  of  ancient  times, 

They  trod  the  paft'ral  plain : 
But  who  defcribe*  a  Summer's  day, 

Or  paints  the  halcyon  main  : 

One  day,  a  wanderer  in  the  wood 

The  lonely  threftiold  preft  ; 
"Twas  then  that  Arthur's  humble  roof 

Had  firft  recciv'd  a  gueft. 

The  ftranger  told  his  tender  tale : 
*'  I  come  from  foreign  climes  ; 

"  From  countries  red  with  Indian  blood, 
"  And  ftain'd  with  Chriftian  crimes.   • 

"  O  may  Britannia  never  hear 
"  What  thefe  fad  eyes  have  feen  ! 

"  May  an  eternal  veil  be  drawn 
"  That  world  and  this  between  ! 

"  No  frantic  avarice  fir'd  my  foul, 

"  AndHeav'n  my  wifhes  crown'd  ;     • 

**  For  foon  a  fortune  to  my  mind        < 
"  With  innocence  I  found. 

"  From  e*ile  fad,  returning  home, 

"  I  kiOs'd  the  facred  earth  ; 
"  And  flew  to  rind  my  native  woods 

"  And  walls  that  gave  rae  birth. 

"  To  church  on  Sunday  fond  I  went, 

"  In  hopes  to  mark  unfeen, 
"  All  my  old  friends  aflembled  round 

•'  The  circle  of  the  green. 

"  Alas,  the  change  that  time  had  made  ! 

"  My  ancient  friends  were  gone  ; 
"  Another  race  poffefs'd  the  walls, 

"  And  I  was  left  alone  I 

"  A  ftranger  among  ftrangers,  long 
"  I  look'd  from  pew  to  pew  ; 

"  But  not  the  face  of  one  old  friend 
"  Rofe  inaag'd  to  my  view. 

•*  The  horrid  plough  had  ras'd  the  green, 
"    "  Where  we  hare  often  play'd  ; 
"  The  ax  had  fell'd  the  hawthorn  tree, 
"  The  fchool-boy's  Summer  (hade.    , 

"  One  maid,  the  beauty  of  the  vale, 
"  To  whom  I  vow'd  my  care, 

"  And  gave  my  heart,  had  fled  away, 
'<  And  none  could  tell  me  where, 

*'  My  cares  and  toils  in  foreign  climes 
"  Were  for  that  peerlefs  maid  : 

*'  She  rofe  in  beauty  by  my  fide  : 
"  My  toils  were  all  repaid. 

<*  By  Indian  ft  reams  I  fat  alone, 
"  While  on  my  native  ifle, 


THE   WORKS    OF   LOGAN. 


'  And  on  my  ancient  friends,  I  thought, 
"  And  wept  the  weary  while. 

'  'Twas  flie  that  cheer'd  my  captive  hours, 

"  She  came  in  every  dream, 
'   As,  fmiling  on  the  rear  of  night, 

"  Appears  the  morning  beam. 

•'  In  queft  of  her,  I  wander  wjld, 
"  O'er  mountain,  ftream.  and  plain  ; 

;<  And,  if  I  find  her  not,  I  lly 
"  To  Indian  climes  again." 

The  father  thus  began  :  "  My  fon, 

"  Mourn  not  thy  v.'retched  fate ; 
"  For  he  that  rules  in  heaven  decrees 

"  This  life  a  mixed  ftate. 

"  The  ftream  that  carries  us  along, 
"  Flows  through  the  vale  of  tears; 

"  Yet,  on  the  darknefsof  our  day, 
"  The  bow  of  heav'n  appears. 

"  The  rofe  of  Sliaron,  king  of  flowers, 

"  Is  fenc'cl  with  prkke*  round; 
"  Queen  of  the  vale,  the  lily  fair 

"  Among  the  thorns  is  found. 

"  Ev'n  while  we  raife  the  fong,  we  f\gh 

"  The  melancholy  while  ; 
"  And,  down  the  face  of  mortal  man, 

"  The  tear  fucceeds  the  fmile. 

"  Nought  pure  or  perfect  here  is  found  ; 

'*   But  when  this  night  is  o'er, 
"  Th*  eternal  morn  will  fpring  on  high, 

"   And  we  fliall  weep  no  more. 

"  Beyond  tlie  dim  horizon  far, 

"  That  bounds  the  mortal  eye, 
"  A  better  country  blooms  to  view, 

"  Beneath  a  brighter  iky." — 

Unfeen  the  trembling  virgin  heard 

The  ftranger's  tale  of  woe  ; 
Then  enter'd,  as  an  angel  bright, 

In  beauty's  higheft  glow. 

The  ftranger  rofe,  he  look'd,  he  gaz'd, 

He  ftood  a  ftatue  pule  ; 
His  heart  did  throb,  his  cheek  did  change, 

His  fault'ring  voice  did  fail. 

At  la!r,  "  My  Emily  herfelf 

"  Alive  in  all  her  chajms1.'* 
The  father  kneei'd  ;  the  lover's  rufh'd 

To  one  another's  arms. 

In  fpeechlefs  ecftafy  entranc'd 

Long  while  they  did  remain  ; 
They  glow'd,  they  trembl'd,  and  they  fobb'd, 

They  wept  and  wept  again. 

The  father  lifted  up  his  hands, 

To  blefs  the  happy  pair  ; 
Heav'n  fmil'don  Edward  the  belov'd, 

And  Emily  the  fair. 

MONIMIA : 

AN   ODE. 

IN  weeds  of  forrow  wildly  dight, 
Alone  beneath  the  gloom  of  night, 
Mommia  wer.t  to  mourn  ; 


POEMS. 


104$ 


She  left  a  mothei's  fa'.vl  alarms ; 
She  left' a  father's  folding  amis; 
Ah  !  never  to  return  '. 

The  bell  had  (truck  the  midnight  hour, 
Difaftrous  planets  now  had  pow'r, 

And  evil  fpirits  reigri'd  ; 
The  lone  owl  from  the  cloifter'd  ifle, 
O'er  falling  fragments  of  the  pile, 

Ill-boding  prophet  plain'd. 

While  down  her  devious  footfteps  ftray, 
She  tore  the  willows  by  the  way, 

And  gaz'd  upon  the  wave: 
Then  railing  wild  to  heav'n  her  eyes, 
V.'ith  fobs  and  broken  accent,  cries, 

"  I'll  meet  thee  in  the  grave.*' 

Bright  o'er  the  border  of  the  ftream, 
Illumin'd  by  a  tranfient  beam, 

She  knew  the  wonted  grove  ; 
Her  lover's  hand  had  deck'd  it  fine, 
And  rofes  mix'd  with  myrtles  twine, 

To  form  the  bower  of  love. 

The  tuneful  Philomela  rofe, 

And  fweetly  mournful  fung  her  woes, 

Enamour'd  of  the  tree  : 
Touch'd  with  the  melody  of  woe, 
More  tender  tears  began  to  flow, 

"  She  mourns  her  mate  like  me." 

"  I  lov'd  my  lover  from  a  child, 

"  And  fweet  the  youthful  cherub  fmil'd, 

"  And  wanton'd  o'er  the  green  ; 
"  He  train'd  rny  nightingale  to  fing, 
"  He  fpoil'd  the  gardens  of  the  fpring, 

"  To  crown  me  rural  queen. 

41  My  brother  died  before  his  day  ; 

"  Sad  through  the  church-yard's  dreary  way, 

"  We  wont  to  walk  at  eve ; 
"  And  bending  o'er  th'  untimely  urn, 
"  Long  at  the  monument  to  mourn, 

•'  And  look  upon  his  grave. 

"  Like  forms  funereal  while  we  land, 
"  In  tender  mood  he  held  my  hand, 

"   And  laid  his  cheek  to  mine  ; 
f<  My  bofom  beat  unkno-vn  alarms, 
"  We  wept  in  one  another's  arms, 

"  And  mingled  tears  divine. 

"  From  fweet  companion  love  arofe, 
"  Our  hearts  were  wedded  by  our  woes, 

"  And  pair'd  upon  the  tomb ; 
"  Attefting  all  the  powers  above, 
"  A  fond  romance  of  fancied  love, 

41  We  vow'd  our  days  to  come. 

A  wealthy  lord  from  Indian  flues, 
Illuftrious  in  my  parent's  eyes, 
"  Implor'd  a  mutual  mind; 
Sad  to  my  chamber  I  withdrew, 
But  Harry's  footfteps  never  flew 
41  The  wonted  fcene  to  find. 

Three  nights  in  dire  fufpenfe  I  fat 
Alone  ;  the  fourth  convey'd  my  fate, 
"  Sent  from  a  /oreign  fhore  ;— 


"  Go,  U-here  thy  wandering  wifhes  tend, 
"  Go,  and  embrace  thy  father's  friend, 
"  You  never  fee  me  more  !"— 

"  Defpair  !  diftradlion  !   I  obey'd, 
"  And  one  diforder'd  moment  made 

"  An  ever-wretched  wife  ; 
"  Ah  !  in  the  circuit  of  one  fun, 
"  Heaven  1  I  was  wedded  and  undone, 

"  And  defolate  for  life! 

"  Apart  my  wedding  robes  I  tore, 
"  And  guarded  tears  now  Burning  o'er 

"  Diftain'd  the  bridal  bed  : 
"  Wild  I  invok'd  the  funeral  yell, 
"  And  fought  devoted  now  to  dwell 

"  For  ever  with  the  dead. 

"  My  lord  to  Indian  climates  went, 
"  A  letter  from  my  lover  lent 
•  "  Renew'd  eternal  woes; — 
"  Before  my  love  my  lail  words  greet, 
"  Wrapt  in  the  weary  winding  meet, 
"  I  in  the  duft  repofe  ! 

"  Perhaps  your  parents  have  deceiv'd, 
"  Perhaps  too  ralhly  Ibeliev'd 

"  A  tale  of  treach'rous  art ; 
"  Monimia  !  could  you  now  behold 
"  The  youth  you  lov'd  in  forrows  old, 

"  Oh  !  it  would  break  thy  heart '. 

"  Now  in  the  grave  for  ever  laid,  , 
"  A  conftant  folitary  fliade, 

'*  Thy  Hp.rry  hangs  o'er  thee  ! 
"  For  you  I  fled  my  native  fky  ; 
"  Loaded  with  life  for  you  I  die ; 

"  My  love,  remember  me  1" 

tc  Of  all  the  promifes  of  youth, 

"  The  tears  of  tendernefs  and  truth*, 

"  The  throbs  that  lovers  fend  ; 
"  The  vows  in  one  another's  arms, 
"  The  fecret  fympathy  of  charms ; 

"  My  God  !  is  this  the  end  ?" 

She  faid,  and  rufliing  from  the  bow'r, 
Devoted  fought  in  evil  hour 

The  promontory  fteep ; 
Hung  o'er  the  margin  of  the  main, 
Her  fiVd  and  eameft  eyeballs  llrain 

The  dafhing  of  the  deep. 

' 

"   Waves  that  re  found  tVom  fhore  to  fliore  ! 
"  Rocks  loud  rebellowing  to  the  roar 

"  Of  ocean,  ftorm,  and  wind  ! 
"  Your  elemental  war  is  tame, 
'*  To  that  which  rages  in  my  frame, 

"  The  battle  of  the  mind  !'' 

With  ijownraft  eye  and  mufing  mood, 
A  lurid  interval  fhe  flood 

The  vidltm  of  defpair ; 
Her  arms  then  tolling  to  the  flues, 
She  pour'd  in  nature's  ear  her  cries, 

"  My  God  !  my  father  1  where?"—— ^ 

Wild  on  the  fummit  of  the  fteep 
She  ruminated  long  the  deep, 
And  felt  her  freezing  blood  : 

3  u  :: 


THE   WORKS   OF  LOGAN. 


Approaching- feet  (he  heard  behind, 
Then  fwiiter  than  the  winged  wind 
She  plung'd  into  the  flood. 

Her  form  emerging  from  the  wave 
Both  parents  faw,  hat  could  not  fare  ; 

The  fhriek  of  death  arofe  ! 
At  once  (he  funk  to  rile  no  more  ; 
And  fadly  founding  to  the  (hore, 

The  parted  billows  clofe  '. 

ODE 

WRITTEN  IN  A  VISIT   TO   THE  COUNTRY  IN 
AUTUMN. 

*Tls  paft  !  no  more  the  Summer  blooms  1 

Afcending  in  the  rear, 
Behold  congenial  Autumn  comes, 

The  Sabbath  of  the  year  ! 
What  time  thy  holy  whifpers  breathe, 
The  penfive  evening  (hade  beneath, 

And  twilight  confecrates  the  floods  ; 
While  nature  (trips  her  garment  gay, 
And  wears  the  vefture  of  decay, 
/  6   O  let  me  wander  through  the  founding  woods  ! 

Ah!  well-known  dreams!  ah!  wonted  groves, 

Still  pictur'd  in  my  mind  ! 
Oh :  facred  fcene  of  youthful  loves, 

Whofe  image  lives  behind  '. 
While  fad  I  ponder  on  the  part, 
The  joys  that  muft  no  longer  laft  ; 

The  wild-flow'r  drown  on  Summer's  bier, 
The  dying  mufic  of  the  grove, 
And  the  laft  elegies  of  love, 
1  c    .Diffblve  the  foul,  and  draw  the  tender  tear  ! 

Alas !  the  hofpitable  hall, 

Where  youth  and  friendihip  play'd, 

Wide  to  the  wiuds  a  ruin'd  wall 
Projects  a  death -like  (hade  ! 

The  charm  is  vanifh'd  from  the  vales ; 

No  voice  with  virgin-whifper  hails 
A  ftranger  to  his  native  bow'rs : 

No  more  Arcadian  mountains  bloom, 

Nor  Enna  valleys  breathe  perfume, 
'j  •  The  fancied  Eden  fades  with  all  its  flowers  ! 

Companions  of  the  youthful  fcene, 

iindear'd  from  earlieft  days ! 
With  whom  I  (ported  on  the  green, 

Or  rov'd  the  woodland  maze  ? 
Long-exil'<l  from  your -native  clime, 
Or  by  the  thunder -ftroke  of  time 

SnatchM  to  the  fhndows  of  defpair  ; 
I  hear  your  voices  in  the  wind, 


Your  forms  in  every  walk  I  find, 

I  (tretch  my  arms :  ye  vanifli  into  air '      u 

My  (teps,  when  innocent  and  young, 

Thefe  fairy  paths  purfu'd  ; 
And  wand'ring  o'er  the  wild,  I  fang. 

My  fancies  to  the  wood. 
I  mourn'd  the  linnet-lover's  fate, 
Or  turtle  from  her  murder'd  mate, 

Condemn'd  the  widow'd  hours  to  wail; 
Or  while  the  mournful  vifion  rofe, 
I  fought  to  weep  for  imag'd  woes, 
Nor  real  life  believ'd  a  tragic  tale  !       y  e 

Alas  !  misfortune's  cloud  unkind 
,  May  Summer  foon  o'ercaft  ! 
And  cruel  fate's  untimely  wind 

All  human  beauty  blall ! 
The  wrath  of  nature  fmites  our  bowers. 
And  promis'd  fruits* and  cherifli'd  flowers, 

The  hopes  of  life  in  embryo  fweeps; 
Pale  o'er  the  ruins  of  his  prime, 
And  defolate  before  his  time, 
lo  (ilence  fad  the  mourner  walks  and  weeps  \ 

Relentlefs  power !  whofe  fated  ftroke 

O'er  wretched  man  prevails ! 
Ha  !  love's  eternal  chain  is  broke, 

And  friendfliip's  covenant  fails! 
Upbraiding  forms  !  a  moment's  eafe— 
O  memory  !  how  (hall  I  appeafe 

The  bleeding  (hade,  the  unlaid  ghoft  ? 
What  charm  can  bind  the  guihing  eye  ? 
What  voice"  confole  th'  inceffant  figh, 
And  everlafting  longings  for  the  loft  ?      70' 

Yet  not  unwelcome  waves  the  wood, 

That  hides  me  in  its  gloom, 
While  loft  in  melancholy  mood 

I  mufe  upon  the  tomb. 
Their  chequer'd  leaves  the  branches  (hed  ; 
Whirling  in  eddies  o'er  my  head, 

They  fadly  figh  that  Winter's  near  : 
The  warning  voice  I  hear  behind, 
That  (hakes  the  wocd  without  a  wind, 
And  folemn  founds  the  death-bell  of  the  year. 

Nor  will  I  court  Lethean  ftreams, 

The  forrowing  fenfe  to  fteep  ; 
Nor  drink  oblivion  of  the  themes 

On  which  I  love  to  weep. 
Belated  oft  by  fabled  rill, 
While  nightly  o'er  the  hallowed  hill 

Aereal  mufic  feems  to  mourn  ; 
I'll  lilten  Autumn's  clofing  (train  ; 
Then  woo  the  walks  of  youth  again, 
And  pour  my  forrovvs  o'er  th'  untimely  urn  I 


HYMNS. 


HYMN  I. 

THE  PRAYER  OF  JACOB. 

O  GOD  of  Abraham  !  by  whofe  hand 

Thy  people  (till  are  fed; 
Who,  through  this  weary  pilgrimage. 
.   Halt  all  our  fathets  led !  ' 


Our  vows,  our  prayers,  we  now  prefeat 
Before  thy  throne  of  grace  ; 

God  of  our  fathers,  be  the  God 
Of  their  fucceedmg  race 

Through  each  perplexing  path  of  lift 
Our  wandering  tootue^s  6uide, 


Give  tis  by  day  our  daily  bread, 
And  raiment  fit  provide  '. 

O  fpread  thy  covering  winj^s  around, 

Till  all  our  wand'rmgs  ceale, 
And  at  our  fathers'  lov'd  abode 

Our  feet  arrive  in  peace  ! 

Now  with  the  humble  voice  of  prayer 

Thy  mercy  we  implore; 
Then  'vith  the  grateful  voice  of  praife 

Thy  guodaeis  we'll  adore  1 

HYMN  IT. 

THE  COMPLAINT    OF  NATURE. 

FKW  are  thy  days  and  full  of  woe, 

O  man  of  woman  born  ! 
Thy  doom  is  written,  duit  thou  art, 

And  flialt  to  duft  return. 

Determin'd  are  the  days  that  fly 

Succeffive  o'  r  thy  head  ; 
The  numb-r'd  hour  is  on  the  wing, 

That  lays  thse  with  the  dead. 

Alas!  the  little  day  of  life 

Is  fhorter  than  a  fpan  ; 
Yet  black  with  thouUnd  hidden  ills 

To  miferable  man. 

Gay  is  thy  morning,  flattering  hope 

Thy  fprightly  ftep  attends  ; 
But  foon  the  tempeft  huwls  behind, 

And  the  dark  night  defcends. 

Before  its  fplendidhour  the  cloud 
Comes  o'er  the  beam  of  light ; 

A  pilgrim  in  a  weary  land, 
Man  tarries  but  a  night. 

Behold  !  fad  emblem  of  thy  ftate, 
The  flowers  that  paint  the  field  ; 

Or  trees  that  crown  the  mountain's  brow,' 
And  boughs  and  bloffoms  yield. 

"When  chill  the  blaft  of  Winter  blows, 

Away  the  Summer  flies, 
The  flowers  refign  their  funny  robes, 

And  all  their  beauty  dies. 

Nipt  by  the  year  the  foreft  fades ; 

And  making  to  the  wind, 
The  leaves  tofs  to  and  fro,  and  ftreak 

The  wildernefs  behind. 

The  Winter  part,  reviving  flowers 

Anew  (hall  paint  the  plain, 
The  woods  (hall  hear  the  voice  of  Spring, 

And  flounfh  green  again. 

But  man  departs  this  earthly  fcene, 

Ah  !  never  to  return  ! 
No  fccond  Spring  (ball  e'er  revive 

The  a(hes  of  the  urn. 

Th'  inexorable  doors  of  death 

What  hand  can  e'er  unfold  ? 
Who  from  the  cearments  of  the  tomb 

Can  raife  the  human  mold  : 

The  mighty  flood  that  rolls  along 
Its  ton  cuts  to  the  main, 


HYMNS. 

The  waters  loft  can  ne'er  recal 
From  that  abyfs  again. 

The  days,  the  years,  the  ages,  dark 

Defcending  down  to  ni';h»-, 
Can  never,  never  be  redi-em'J 

Back  to  the  gates  of  light. 

So  man  departs  the  living  fcene, 

To  night's  perpetual  gloom  ; 
The  voice  of  morning  ne'er  fhall  break 

The  flumbers  of  the  tomb. 

Where  are  our  fathers !    Whither  gone 

The  mighty  men  of  old  ? 
"  The  patriarchs,  propiu  ts,  princes,  kingsj 

"  In  facred  books  enroll'd. 

"  Gone  to  the  refting-place  of  man, 

"  The  everlafting  home, 
"   Where  ages  pad  have  gone  before, 

"   Where  future  ages  come." 

Thus  nature  pour'd  the  wail  of  woe, 

And  urged  her  earned  cry ; 
Her  voice  in  agony  extreme 

Afcended  to  the  fky. 

Th'  Almighty  heard :  Then  from  has  throna 

In  majefty  he  rofe  ; 
And  from  the  Heaven,  that  open'd  wide, 

His  voice  in  mercy  flows. 

"  When  mortil  man  refigns  his  breathj 

"  And  falls  a  clod  of  clay, 
"  The  foul  immortal  wings  its  flight, 

"  To  never-letting  day. 

"  Prepar'd  of  *old  for  wicked  men 

"  The  bed  of  torment  lies ; 
«  The  juft  (hall  enter  into  Mils 

<«  Immortal  in  the  ikies." 


HYMN  III. 

TRUST    IN    PROVIDENCE. 

ALMIGHTV  father  of  mankind, 

-On  thee  my  hopes  remain  ; 
And  when  the  day  of  trouble  comes, 
I  fhall  not  trull  in  vain. 

Thou  art  our  kind  Preferver,  from 

The  cradle  to  the  tomb ; 
And  I  was  cafl.  upon  thy  care, 

Even  from  my  mother's  worna. 

In  early  ears  thou  waft  my  guide, 
And  of  my  youth  the  friend  ; 

And  as  my  days  began  with  thee, 
With  thee  my  days  fhall  end. 

I  know  the  power  in  whom  I  truft, 
The  arm  on  which  1  lean  ; 

He  will  my  Saviour  ever  be, 
Who  has  my  Saviour  been. 

In  former  times,  when  trouble  came, 
Thou  didft  not  Hand  afar; 

Nor  didft  tbou  prove  an  abfent  friend 
Amid  the  din  of  war. 

My  God,  who  catifedfl:  me  to  hope) 
When  life  began  to  bear, 
3  U  iiij 


IC47 


THE    WORKS    OF   LOGAN. 


And  when  a  flrangrr  in  the  world, 
Didft  guide  my  wandering  feet ; 

Thou  wilt  not  cafl  me  off,  when  age 

And  evil  days  defcend ; 
Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  in  defpair, 

To  mourn  my  latter  end. 

Therefore  in  life  I'll  truft  to  thee, 

In  death  I  will  adore  ; 
And  after  death  will  fing  thy  praife, 

When  time  fhall  be  no  more. 


HYMN  IV. 

HEAVENLY    WISDOM. 

O  HAFPT  is  the  man  who  hears 

Inftru&ion's  warning  voice, 
And  who  celeflial  wifdom  makes 

His  early,  only  choice. 

For  {he  has  treafures  greater  far 

Than  eaft  or  weft  unfold, 
And  her  reward  is  more  fecure 

Than  is  the  gain  of  gold. 

In  her  right  hand  fhe  holds  to  view 

A  length  of  happy  years, 
And  in  her  left,  the  prize  of  fame 

And  honour  bright  appears. 

She  guides  the  young,  with  innocence, 

In  pleafure's  path  to  tread, 
A  crown  of  glory  flic  beftows 

Upon  the  hoary  head. 

According  as  her  labours  rife, 

So  her  rewards  increafe, 
Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleafantncfs, 

And  all  her  p^ths  are  peace. 

HYMN  V. 

BFHOLD !  the  mountain  of  the  Lord 

In  latter  days  fhall  rife,' 
Above  the  mountains  and  the  hills, 

And  draw  the  wond'ring  eyes. 

To  this  the  joyful  nations  round 
All  tribe*  and  tongues  fhall  flow, 

Up  to  the  Hill  of  God  they'll  lay, 
And  to  his  houfe  we'll  go. 

The  beam  that  fhines  on  Zion  hill 

Shall  lighten  every  land  ; 
The  King  who  reigns  in  Zion  towers 

Shall  all  the  worfd  command. 

No  ftrife  ihall  vex  Meffiah's  reign, 

Or  mar  the  peaceful  years, 
To  ploughfliares  foon  they  beat  their  fwords, 

To  prumng-hoofes  their  fpears. 

No  longer  hofts  encountering  hofls, 

Their  millions  flain  deplore; 
They  hang  the  trumpet  in  the  hall, 

And  ftudy  war  no  more. 

Come  then — O  come  from  every  land, 

To  worfhip  at  his  fhrine  ; 
And,  walking  in  the  light  of  God, 

With  holy  beauty's  Ihine. 


HYMN  VI. 

BEHOLD  !  th'  Ambaflador  divine, 

Descending  from  above, 
To  publifh  to  mankind  the  law 

Of  everlafling  love ! 

On  him"  in  rich  effufion  pour'd 
The  heavenly  dew  dcfccnds ; 

And  truth  divine  he  fhall  reveal, 
To  earth's  rcmotsfl  ends. 

No  trumpet-found,  at  his  approach, 
Shall  ftrike  the  wondering  ears; 

But  ftill  and  gentle  breathe  the  voice 
In  which  the  God  appears. 

By  his  kind  hand  the  fhaken  reed 

Shall  raife  its  falling  frame; 
The  dying  embers  ihall  revive, 

And  kindle  to-a  flame. 

The  onward  progfefs  of  his  zeal 

Shall  never  know  decline, 
Till  foreign  lands  and  diliant  ifles 

Receive  the  law  divine. 

He  who  fpread  (orth  the  arch  of  heaven, 

And  bade  the  planets  roll, 
Who  !aid  the  ban's  of  the  earth, 

And  form'd  the  human  foul. 

Thus  faith  the  Lord,  "  Thee  have  1  fent, 

"  A  prophet  from  the  fky, 
"  Wide  o'er  the  nations  to  proclaim 

"  The  mefiage  from  on  high. 

"  Before  thy  face  the  fhades  of  death 
"  Shall  take  to  fudden  flight, 

"  The  people  who  in  darknefs  dwell 
•'  Shall  hail  a  glorious  light ; 

"  The  gates  of  brafs  fhall  'funder  burft, 

"  The  iron  fetters  fall ; 
"  The  promis'd  jubilee  of  Heaven 

"  Appointed  rife  o'er  all. 

"  And  lo !  prefaging  thy  approach, 
"  The  Heathen  temples  fhake, 

"  And  trembling  in  forfaken  fanes. 
"  The  fabled  idols  quake. 

"  I  am  Jehovah  :  I  am  One  : 

"  My  name  fhall  now  be  known; 

"  No  idol  fhall  ufurp  my  praife, 
"  Nor  mount  into  my  throne." 

Lo,  former  fcenes,  predicted  once, 

Confpicuous  rife  to  view ; 
And  future  fcenes,  predicted  now, 

Shall  be  accomplifh'd  too. 

Now  fing  a  new  fong  to  the  Lord  ! 

Let  earth  his  praife  refound ; 
Ye  who  upon  the  ocean  dwell, 

And  fill  the  ifles  around. 

O  city  of  the  Lord  !  begin 

The  univerfal  fong; 
And  let  the  fcatter'd  villages 

The  joyful  notes  prolong. 

Let  Kedar's  wildernefs  afar 
Lift  up  the  lonely  voice ; 


And  let  the  tenants  of  the  rock 
With  accent  ruiie  rejoice. 

O  from  the  ftreams  of  diftant  lands 

Unto  Jehovah  ling  ! 
And  joyful  from  the  mountain  tops 

Shout  to  the  Lord  the  King  ! 

Let  all  combin'd  with  one  accord 

Jehovah's  glories  raife, 
Till  in  remoteft  bounds  of  earth 

The  nations  found  his  praife. 

HYMN  VI T. 

MESSIAH!  at  thy  glad  approach 
The  howling  wilds  are  Hill ; 

Thy  praifes  fill  the  lonely  wafte, 
And  breathe  from  every  hill. 

The  hidden  fountains,  at  thy  call, 
Their  facred  itores  unlock ; 

Loud  in  the  d?fertfudden  ftreams 
Burft  living  from  the  rock. 

The  incenfe  of  the  Spring  afccnds 
Upon  the  morning  gale ; 

Red  o'er  the  hill  the  rofes  bloom 
The  lilies  in  the  vale. 

Renew'd,  the  earth  a  robe  of  light, 
A  robe  of  beauty  wears ; 

And  in  new  heavens  a  brighter  fun 
Leads  on  the  promis'd  years. 

The  kingdom  of  Meffiah  come, 
Appointed  times  difclofe ; 

And  fairer  in  Emanuel's  land 
The  new  creation  glo;vs. 

Let  Ifrael  to  the  Prince  of  Peace 
The  loud  hofannah  fing  ! 

With  hallelujahs  and  with  hymns, 
O  Zion,  hail  thy  King ! 


HYMN  VIII. 

WHEN  Jefus,  by  the  virgin  brought, 
So  runs  the  law  of  Heaven, 

Was  offer' d  holy  to  the  Lord, 
And  at  thy  altar  given ; 

Simeon  the  jufl  and  the  devout, 
Who  frequent  in  the  fane 


HYMNS. 

I  Had  for  the  Saviour  wailed  long, 
But  waited  ftill  in  vain ; 

Came  Heaven-directed  at  the  hour 
When  Mary  held  her  fon ; 

He  ftretched  forth  his  aged  arms, 
While  tears  of  gladiiefs  run : 

With  holy  joy  upon  his  face 
The  good  old  father  fmil'd, 

While  fondly  in  his  wither'd  arms 
He  clafp'd  the  promis'd  child. 

And  then  he  lifted  up  to  Heaven 

An  earned  afklng  eye ; 
My  joy  is  full,  my  hour  is  come, 

Lord  let  thy  fcrvant  die. 

At  laft  my  arms  embrace  my  Lord, 
Now  let  their  vigour  ccafe ; 

At  laft  my  eyes  my  Saviour  fee. 
Now  let  them  clofe  in  peace  ! 

The  ftar  and  glory  of  the  land 
Hath  now  begun  to  fhine ; 

The  morning  that  fhall  gild  the  globe 
Breaks  on  thefe  eyes  of  mine ! 

HYMN  IX. 

WHERE  high  the  heavenly  temple  (lands 
The  houfe  of  God  not  made  with  hands, 
A  great  high  prieft  our  nature  wears, 
The  patron  of  mankind  appears. 

He  who  for  men  in  mercy  flood, 
And  pour'd  on  earth  his  precious  blood, 
Purfues  in  Heaven  his  plan  of  grace, 
The  Guardian  God  of  human  race. 

Though  now  afcended  up  on  high, 
He  bends  oil  earth  a  brother's  eye, 
Partaker  of  the  human  name, 
He  knows  the  frailty  of  our  frame. 

Our  fellow-fuff'rer  yet  retains 
A  fellow-feeling  of  our  pains ; 
And  ftill  remembers  in  the  fkies 
His  tears,  and  agonies,  and  cries. 

In  every  pang  that  rends  the  heart, 
The  Man  of  Sorrows  had  a  part ; 
He  fympathifes  in  our  grief, 
And  to  the  fuff  'rer  fends  relief. 

With  boldnefs,  therefore,  at  the  throne 
Let  us  make  all  our  forrows  known, 
And  afk  the  aids  of  heavenly  power, 
To  help  u?  in  the  efil  hour. 


1049 


T  H  a 


POETICAL    WORKS 


OF 


Containing 


TRIUMPH  OF  ISIS, 

NEWMARKET, 

PLEASURES    OF  MELANCHOLY, 

PROGRESS  OF  DISCONTENT, 


ODES, 
ELEGIES, 
SONNETS, 
INSCRIPTIONS, 


We.  &e.  toV. 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE  LIFE   OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


Lo!  whereon  Ifis'  bank,  fair  England's  mufe 

Laments  the  leader  of  her  laureat  train; 
Whofe  art,  with  chivalry's  romantic  hues, 

Combines  the  chaftenefs  of  the  claffic  drain  : 
She  mourns  that  fage,  whofe  patient  toil  purfues 

Her  faultering  fteps  through  time's  extenfive  plain ; 
And  from  primeval  (hades  her  progrefs  fhows, 

Down  to  the  brightnefe  of  Eliza's  reign: 
With  the  rich  meed  of  fome  melodious  tear, 

Fain  would  ftie  now  that  cruel  ftroke  deplore, 
Which  ftopt  her  darling  in  his  fair  career 

Of  antiquarian  fearch,  and  critic  lore: 
For  ftill,  while  tafte  or  (he  can  honour  claim, 
Each  age  ftiall  venerate  her  WARTON'S  name  '. 

MR.  THOMSON'S  SONNET  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  WARTON. 


EDINBURGH:  , 

(PRINTED  BY  fdVWDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE. 


THE  LIFE  OF  WARTON. 

THOMAS  WARTON,  the  "  Hiftorian  of  Englifh  Poetry,"  was  born  in  the  year  1728.  He  belong, 
ed  to  a  poetical  family.  His  father,  Thomas  Warton,  B.  D.  was  fellow  of  Magdalen  College,  Ox 
ford,  and  afterwards  Poetry  Profcffor  in  that  Univerfity,  from  1718  to  1718,  and  Vicar  of  Bafing- 
itoke  in  Hants,  and  of  Cobham  in  Surrey.  He  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Jofeph 
Richardfon,  Rector  of  Dunsfold,  in  Surrey,  by  whom  he  had  two  fons,  Jofeph,  the  prefent  refpedt- 
able  Matter  of  Winchefler  School,  the  poet,  and  one  daughter,  Jane.  He  does  not  appear  to  have 
publifhed  any  thing  in  his  lifetime ;  but  after  his  death,  which  happened  at  Bafmgftoke,  in  1745, 
a  volume  of  poems  was  printed  by  fubfcription  in  1748.  Amhurft's  "  Terrae  Films"  contains  ibme 
anecdotes  of  him.  His  mother  died  at  Winchefter,  in  1762.  His  brother,  Dr.  Jofeph  Warton,  is 
advantageoufly  known  to  the  world,  by  his  "  Ode  to  Fancy,"  and  other  ingenious  poems  in  "  Dod 
fley's  Collection,"  "  Effay  on  the  Genius  and  Writings  of  Pope,"  "  Tranflation  of  the  Paflorals 
and  Eclogues  of  Virgil,"  and  an  edition  of  the  "  Works  of  Pope,"  with  notes. 

By  his  quotation  from  Gray's  Ode,  in  his  Defcrlftion  of  the  City  College  and  Catlciral  ?f  Wincbeflert 
and  his  Latin  poem  on  Catharine  Hill,  we  learn  that  he  received  his  education  at  the  feminary  over 
which  his  brother  now  prefides. 

In  due  time  he  became  a  member  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford ;  took  the  degree  of  Matter  of  Arts 
in  1750,  of  Bachelor  of  Divinity  in  1767  ;  but  did  not  fucceed  to  the  Mafterfhip  of  his  college,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  when  it  became  vacant  in  1776,  though  he  continued  to  refide  in  it  till 
his  death. 

In  a  life  paffed  within  the  limits  of  a  college,  where  the  tranfitions  from  the  fludy  to  the  com 
mon-room,  and  from  thence  back  to  the  ftudy,  mark  the  paffing  day  with  fcarce  any  variation,  no 
thing  of  incident  is  to  be  expected,  nothing  will  be  found  important  enough  to  be  recorded.  Yet 
a  life  thus  fpent  is  not  to  be  contemned.  The  writings  of  Warton  fhew,  that  one  at  leaft  has  been 
productive  of  much  entertainment,  much  ufefulnefs  to  the  world. 

He  very  early  exerted  his  poetical  talents,  as  may  be  feen  by  the  dates  of  his  feveral  publications; 
•which  may  be  confidered  as  the  principal  landmarks  in  his  life. 

In  1745,  he  publifhed  Five  Paftoral  Eclogues  ;  the  fcenes  of  which  are  fuppofed  to  lie  among  the 
fliepherds  oppreffed  by  the  war  in  Germany,,  410.  Thefe  Eclogues  have  not  been  collected  in  his 
works,  and  have  eluded  the  diligence  of  the  prefent  writer. 

In  1747,  he  publifhed  The  Pleafures  cf  Melancholy,  written  in  1745,  4to,  reprinted  in  "  Dodfley's 
Collection,"  which  was  followed  by  The  Prcgre/s  of  Difcontent,  a  Poem,  written  at  Oxford  in  1746, 
firft  printed  in  "  The  Student ;"  and  Newmarket,  a  Satire,  fol.  1750,  reprinted  in  "  Pearch's  Col 
lection,"  and  again  in  "  Dodfley's  Collection." 

At  a  time  when  few  are  capable  of  diftinguifhing  themfelves  in  any  extraordinary  degree,  he 
rendered  a  fervice  to  his  Alma  Mater,  which  could  not  but  be  acceptable. 

It  is  well  known  that  Tory,  if  not  Jacobite  principles,  were  fufpected  to  prevail  much  in  the  Uni 
verfity  of  Oxford,  about  the  time  of  the  Rebellion  in  1 745  ;  and  foon  after  its  fuppreffion,  the  folly 
and  drunken  extravagance  of  feveral  young  men  belonging  to  one  of  the  colleges,  gave  offence  to 
the  friends  of  the  Houfe  of  Hanover,  in  a  manner  which  occafioned  a  profecution  in  the  Court  of 
King's  Bench, "and  a  ftigma  on  the  Vice-Chancellor  and  fome  of  the  heads  of  houfes. 

In  1748,  while  this  matter  was  the  fubjtct  of  converfation,  Mr.  Mafon  publifhed  his  "  Ifis,  an 
e'eg}'>"  m  which,  after  celebrating  the  worthies  fhe  formerly  boafled,  Ihe  laments  her  degenerate 
fons,  that, 

•  madly  bold 

To  Freedom's  foes  infernal  orgies  hold. 

In  anfwer  to  Mr.  Mafon's  elegy,  which  was  much  applauded,  and  with  great  reafon,  at  the  time 
of  its  publication,  Warton  publifhed  his  Triumph  of  Jfis,  an  elegy,  410,  1749,  which  was  equally  de- 
fsrving  of  praife.  His  eulogium  on  Dr.  King  is  particularly  worthy  of  notice.  It  was  reprinted 
in  Pearch's  Collection. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  though  neither  Mafon  nor  Warton  ever  excelled  thefe  performances,  each 
of  them,  as  by  confent,  when  be  firft  collected  bis  poems  into  a  volume,  omitted  his  own  party- 
production,  4 


1054  THE  LIFE   OF  WART  ON. 

In  1751,  he  published  An  Ode  far  Mufic,  performed  at  the  Theatre,  Oxford,  July  t.  175 1,  being  tit 
fay  appointed  by  the  late,  Lord  Crew,  Bi/tof  of  Durham,  for  tie  commemoration  of  the  benrfa&ors  of  the  uni- 
verfiiy  410.  In  this  Ode,  Minerva,  after  having  affifted  Queen  Bontiuca  in  a  battle,  is  feigned  to 
requeft  drink  of  the  river  Tftt,  and,  in  reward  of  the  favour,  to  promife  that  her  banks  fliall  be 
come  the  feat  of  learning,  and  the  pride  of  Britain. 

In  1753.  he  publiflied  The  Union,  or  Selefl  Scots  and  Engl'ijb  Poems ,  izmo. 

Thefe  were  only  the  lighter  productions  of  Warton's  genius.  In  1753,  he  publiflied  Obfervntions  on 
tie  Faery  ^utene  of  Spcnfer,  8vo,  which  he  corrected  and  enlarged  in  2  vols,  zamo,  1761.  He  fent  a 
copy  of  the  firft  edition  to  Dr.  Johnfon,  which  he  acknowledged  in  a  letter  to  him,  dated  July  16. 
I754>  containing  the  following  merited  compliment :  "  I  now  pay  you  a  very  honed  acknowledg 
ment  for  the  advancement  of  the  literature  of  our  native  country.  You  have  fhown  to  all  who  fliall 
hereafter  attempt  the  ftudy  of  our  ancient  authors,  the  way  to  fuccefs,  by  directing  them  to  the  per. 
ufal  of  the  books  which  thefe  authors  had  read.  Of  this  method  Hughes,  and  men  much  greater 
than  Hughes,  feem  never  to  have  thought.  The  reafon  why  the  authors,  which  are  yet  read,  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  are  fo  little  underftood,  is,  that  they  are  read  alone,  and  no  help  is  borrowed 
from  thofe  who  lived  with  them,  or  before  them." 

Some  time  before,  he  feems  to  have  taken  orders,  and  to  have  become  Fellow  of  his  College;  for, 
in  his  notes  on  Dr.  Johnfon's  letter,  preferved  by  Mr.  Bofwell,  he  mentions  his  defign  of  publifh- 
ing  a  volume  of  "  Obfervations  on  the  beft  of  Spenfer's  Works,"  being  hindered  by  his  taking  pu 
pils.  "  I  am  glad  of  your  hindrance  in  your  Spenferian  defign,"  Dr.  Johnfon  writes  him,  Nov.  28. 
1754,  "  yet  I  would  not  have  it  delayed." 

At  this  time  his  ftiend  Collins  was  at  Oxford,  on  a  vifit  to  him;  but  labouring  under  the  mod  de 
plorable  languor  of  body,  and  deje&ion  of  niind.  "  Poor  dear  Collins!"  fays  Dr.  Johnfon,  "  would 
a  letter  give  him  any  pleafure  ?  I  have  a  mind  to  write."  Soon  after  he  writes  him  :  "  1  had  lately 
a  letter  from  your  brother,  with  fome  account  of  poor  Collins,  for  whom  I  am  much  concerned.  I 
have  a  notion,  that  by  very  great  temperance,  or  more  properly  abitinence,  he  may  yet  recover." 

In  February  1755,  he  procured  for  Dr.  Johnfon  the  degree  of  Mafler  of  Arts,  by  diploma,  from 
the  UniverCty  of  Oxford  ;  which  was  confidered  as  an  honour  of  confiderable  importance,  in  order 
to  grace  the  title-page  of  his  Dictionary,  which  came  out  foon  after. 

In  1756,  he  published  a  pamphlet,  intituled,  The  Olfcrvcr  Ohferved,  8vo,  on  the  publication  of 
Upton's  "  Spcnfer."  This  year  he  was  elected  by  the  umverfity,  Poetry  Profcffur,  on  the  death  of 
Mr.  Hawkins;  which  office  he  held  the  ufual  term  of  ten  years. 

In  1758,  when  Dr.  Johnfon  tegan  the  "  Idler,"  he  gave  his  affiftance,  and  contributed  Nos.  33. 
93.  and  96.  The  fame  year  he  puMifhed  Infcriptionum  Mstricarum  Dcleiius,  Acccdunt  Notula,  410, 
1758,  and  wrote  A  Panegyric  on  Ale^  printed  in  Dodflcy's  u  Collection." 

About  this  time  he  pubhfhed  A  De/cripiion  of  the  City  College  and  Cathedral  of  Wincbef.er,  exhibiting 
a  complete  and  comprehenji-ue  detail  of  thsir  antiquities  and  prefentjiate,  8v»,  without  date  or  name. 

In  1760,  he  contributed  the  Life  of  Sir  TLomas  lope  to  the  5th  volume  of  the  "  Biographia  Bri- 
tanaica." 

The  year  following,  he  published  The  Life  and  Literary  Remains  of  Ralph  Bathur/l,  M,  D.  Dean  ef 
Wells,  and  Prefident  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  8vo.  In  the  Life  of  Dr.  Batburjt,  he  has  fuppllcd  fome 
defects,  and  rectified  fome  miftakes  in  the  account  given  of  him  in  the  "  Biographia  Britannica." 

In  1761,  he  contributed  to  the  "  Oxford  Collection  of  Verfes,"  a  poem  on  the  '  eath  of  George  II. 
eddrejj'edto  Mr.  Secretary  Pitt,  and  verfes  on  the  Marriage  of  the  King,  and  an  the  Birth  ef  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  1762. 

About  1764,  he  publifhed  A  Companion  to  the  Guide,  and  a  Guide  to  the  Companion,  being  a  "vpplement  ts 
all  the  Accounts  of  Oxford  hitherto  publifoed,  izmo,  without  a  date ;  a  burlelque  on  Oxford  Guidesj 
and  Companions. 

His  next  publication  was  the  Oxford  Saufage,  or  Selefi  Poetical  Pieces,  -written  by   the  mojl  c  lelratci 
Wits  of  the  Uni-vcrfity  of  Oxford,  izmo,  1764.     In  this  collection,  the  New/man's  Verfes^  and  feverai 
Other  pieces  of  pleafamry,  were  contributed  by  Warton. 
In  1768,  he  was  preferred  to  the  Vicarage  of  Shalficld,  in  Wiltfliire, 

* 


THE  LIFE  OF  WARTON.  IOJ5 

In  1770,  he  publiflied  from  the  Clarendon  Prefs,  Tbeocriti  Syracufii  Cum  Sc'ollit  Grach  Hjloritus 
Emendationibus  et  nimad-verftctiibtts  in  Scholia  Editoris  et  Joannis  Toupil  Giojjls  feLRis  ineditis,  Jndicibut 
anipliffimis.  Premittuntur  Editoris  DiJJsriatk  de  BucoKeit  Gracorunt,  Pita  Theocrita  'onia  Barnrfto  Scrip- 
f.7,  cum  nonntillis  aliii  aufioriis,  Accedunt  Editoris  et  -variorum  Nota  perpetua  Epijlola  Joannis  Taupii  de 
Syracuftis  cjufdem  addenda  in  Tbsecritum  necnon  Colleclioncs  quindecim  Codicum  ;  Oxon.  3,  V-ils,  4to.  "  This  " 
fays  Dr.  Harwood, "  is  a  very  fplendid  edition ;  and,  after  a  very  careful  perufal,  I  can  pronounce  it 
as  correct  as  it  is  fplendid.  Every  lover  of  Greek  literature  is  under  great  obligations  to  the  very 
learned  and  ingenious  Mr  Warton,  for  this  magnificent  edition  of  Theocritus ,  and  for  fevcral  other 
immortal  productions."  Snme  additional  notes  and  obfervations,  by  way  of  Appendix  to  Warton's 
edition  of  Theocritus,  were  pubhflied  by  Mr.  Toup  in  1774,  Cura  Pof.triores  Siv:  Affendicula  No- 
iaruta  afquc  Emendationum  in  Tbeocritum  OxorJi  nuperrimi  publicatum,  4  to. 

In  1771,  he  publifhed  an  improved  account  of  The  Lift  of  Sir  TLomas  Pcfe,  Founder  of  Trinity  Col 
lege,  Oxford,  chiefly  compiled  from  Original  Evident:* ;  ivitfj  an  Appendix  of  Paper  <  never  before  publi/b  J 
8vo.  The  attention  and  refearch  which  he  has  laviflied  iu  compofing  the  memoirs  of  the  munifi 
cent  and  meritorious  founder  of  Trinity  College,  evince  his  gratitude  and  ability ;  but  it  cannot  but 
be  confidered  as  an  unhappinefs  that  be  was  called  upon  by  his  fituation  and  connections  to  attend 
to  a  fubject  on  which  even  the  vigorous  genius  of  Milton  could  (lamp  no  confiderable  value. 
,  The  fame  year  he  was  prefented  by  the  Earl  of  Litchfield  to  the  Rectory  of  Kiddington,  in  Ox- 
fordfhire,  and  elected  a  Fellow  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries. 

In  1774,  he  gave  to  .the  world  the  firlt  volume  of  his  Hifory  of  Engtijb  Poetry,  from  tie  dofe  of  tie 
eleventh,  to  the  commencement  of  the  tigbtctntb  century  ;  to  ivhich  are  prefixed  two  Di/irtalions,  on  the  Origin 
of  Romantit  fiSlion  in  £urcj>e,  and  en  tie  Introduction  of  Learning  into  England,  410.  The  fecund  vo 
lume  appeared  in  1778,  and  the  tlird,  which  is  brought  down  to  the  commencement  of  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  1781.  To  the  third  volume  is  prefixed  a  tlird  differtation  on  the  Gejla  Ra. 
wanorum.  The  fourth  and  laft  volume  was  announced,  as  "  fpeedily  to  be  publiflied,"  in  the  end 
of  his  edition  of  Milton  s  fmaller  poems  1785,  and  it  is  faid,  a  confiderable  portion  of  it  was  ac 
tually  printed  off  at  the  time  of  his  death.  It  is  expected  to  be  completed,  and  given  to  the  world 
\vith  every  poffible  advantage,  by  his  brother,  whofe  abilities,  both  in  poetry  aud  other  literary- 
provinces,  have  jully  obtained  the  full  fanction  of  public  applaufe.  A  few  miftakes  and  inaccura 
cies  in  thefe  volumes  were  pointed  out,  with  illiberal  exaggeration,  by  Mr.  Ritfon,  a  writer  of  ac 
knowledged,  but  mifapplied  talents,  >in  a  pamphlet,  intituled  "  Obfervations  on  the  three  firft  vo 
lumes  of  the  Hiftory  of  Englifh  Poetry,  in  a  Familiar  Epiftle  to  the  Author,"  4*0,  1781.  A  vin 
dication  of  Wartoa  appeared  in  various  communications  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  178* 
and  1783. 

In  1777,  he  collected  his  Poems  into  an  8vo  volume,  containing  Mifallaneous  Pieces,  Odes,  and  Son- 
nett.  In  this  collection  he  omitted  his  Pafloral  Edoguti,  the  Triumph  of  Jfis,  Newmarket ,  a  Satire,  T6e 
Progrefi  of  DiJ "content,  and  other  pieces  of  humour.  The  publication  may  be  conftdered  as,  in  fome 
meafure,  original,  there  being  only  feven  pieces  that  had  before  appeared,  and  near  three  times 
that  number  which  were  then  firft  printed.  Alluding  to  this  publication,  Mrs.  Piozzi,  in  her  en 
tertaining  "  Anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnfon,"  reports  the  following  converfation  :  "  Such  a  one's  verfes 
are  come  out,  faid  I  :  "  Yes  (replied  Johnfon)  and  this  froft  has  ftruck  them  in  again.  Here  are 
fome  verfes  I  have  written  to  ridicule  them  ;  but  remember  that  I  love  the  fellow  dearly,  now,  for 
all  that  I  laugh  at  him. 

Wherefo'er  I  turn  my  view, 
All  is  ftrange,  yet  nothing  new  : 
Endlef><  labour  all  along, 
Endlefs  labour  to  be  wrong; 
Phrafe  that  time  has  flung  away  ; 
Uncouth  words  in  dilajrray, 
Trick'd  in  antique  ruff  and  bonnet, 
Ode,  and  elegy,  and  fonnet." 

In  :  781,  he  printed  for  private  ufe,  a  few  copies  of  A  Hijlory  of  Kiddington  Parift,  4to,  intended  as 
9  fpecimen  of  a  hiftory  of  Oxfordfliire.  A  fecond  edition  was  publifhed,  "  corrected  and  enlarged," 
(or  fale,  in  1783.  This  admirable  fpecimen  of  parochial  hiftory,  and  of  his  general  idea  of  fuch 
,  terves  but  to  make  us  regret  that  he  had  not  opportunity  to  execute  more  of  fuch  a  plan. 


.,o5<  THE   LIFE   OF  WARTON, 

But  why  fegrnt  this  exertion  of  hi.-  talents,  when  his  Hijltry  of  Gothic  Arcbiieflure,  which  he  more 
than  promifed  in  the  Hiflory  of  Englijb  Poetry,  is  now,  it  is  to  be  feared,  loft  to  the  world  ? 

In  i:8l,  he  engaged,  as  might  be  expected,  on  the  fide  of  Chatterton,  in  the  Rowleian  contro- 
verfy,  and  publi  fried  /.n  Inquiry  into  tit  Authenticity  of  the  Poems  attributed  to  Thomas  Jioivlty  ;  in  •u.'bi:b 
tl>t  arguments  of  the  Dean  of  Exeter  and  Mr.  Bryant  are  examined,  8vo,  which  bears  conviction  with 
every  unprejudiced  mind.  This  year  he  was  prefented  to  the  donative  of  Hill  Farrance,  in  Somer- 
fctfhire. 

The  fame  year  he  publifhed  his  Vtrfts  on  Sir  Jofoug  Reynolds' t  fainted  Window  at  Ne-w  College,  Ox* 
ford,  410. 

In  1785, he  was  elected  Camden  Profeflbr  of  Ancient  Hiftory,  on  the  refignation  of  Dr.  Scott; 
and  the  fame  year  he  was  made  Poet  Laureat,  on  the  death  of  Whitehead. 

His  next  publication  was  Poems  »n  Several  Occjfians,  Englifo,  Latin,  and  Italian,  -with  Tranjlations  ty 
Jobs 'Milton,  viz.  Lycidts  L' Allegro  II  Penferofo,  Arcades,  Comut,  Odet,  Sonnets,  Mifccllamts,  Englijb 
ffalmt,  Elegiarun  Liber,  Epigrammatum  Liber,  Sylvarum  Liber,  -with  Notes  Critical  and  Explanatory, 
and  other  Jllujf rations,  ?vo,  1785.  A  fecond  edition,  with  corrections  and  improvements,  appeared 
after  his  death,  in  1790.  The  chief  purpofe  of  the  Notes  is  to  explain  Milton's  allufions,  to  illuf- 
trate  or  to  vindicate  his  beauties,  to  point  out  his  imitations,  both  of  others  and  of  himfelf,  to  elu 
cidate  his  obfolete  diction,  and  by  the  adduction  and  juxtapofition  of  parallels  univerfally  gleaned 
both  from  his  poetry  and  his  profe,  to  afcertain  his  favourite  words,  and  to  fhew  the  peculiarities  of 
his  phrafeology.  His  commentary  is  enriched  with  fomc  occafional  illuftrations  by  his  brother  Dr. 
Warton.  In  the  fecund  edition,  the  Notes  appear  to  have  undergone  an  entire  revifal.  Some  notes, 
which  were  in  the  firft.  edition,  he  has  omitted  in  the  fecond  ;  intending,  a?  is  evident  by  the  re 
ferences,  to  introduce  them,  and  probably  with  confiderable  additions,  in  his  edition  of  Milton 't 
larger  poems,  which  he  was  preparing  for  the  prefs.  Many  of  his  own  notes,  not  to  be  found  in 
the  firft  edition,  are  inferted  in  the  fecond,  together  with  fome  which  are  marked  with  the  initial* 
of  the  names  of  JVarburton  and  Hurd.  A  multitude  of  corrections  are  alfo  made,  in  which  he 
probably  availed  himfelf  of  the  hints  of  friendly  criticifm. 

This  was  the  laft  publication  he  gave  to  the  world,  except  his  official  Odes,  and  many  excellent 
cotes  in  the  variorum  edition  of  Shakfpeare  1 786,  which  are  diftinguilhed  by  his  name. 

His  health  began  to  decline  a  little  time  before  his  death,  but  not  in  fuch  a  manner  as  to  give 
much  alarm  to  his  friends.  He  had  been  fome  time  ill  with  the  gout ;  but  was  thought  in  a  fair 
wayof  recovery.  Oa  Thurfday,  May  ao.  1790.  he  appeared  remarkably  cheerful,  and  fupped,  and 
paffed  the  evening  in  the  common-room.  Between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  he  funk  in  his  chair. 
His  friends  thought  him  only  doftng ;  but  on  approaching,  found  him  ftruck  with  the  palfy,  and 
quite  dead  on  one  fide.  He  was  immediately  conveyed  to  his  room,  and  continued  infenfible  till  his 
death,  on  Friday,  about  two  o'clock,  in  the  fixty-fecond  year  of  his  age.  On  the  a7th  of  May,  J'B 
the  afternoon,  his  remains  were  interred  in  the  Chapel  of  Trinity  College,  with  the  higheft  aca 
demical  honours. 

A  new  edition  of  his  Poems,  including  the  pieces  omitted  in  the  edition  1777,  and  the  New-Year 
and  Birtl-Day  Odes,  for  1786,  1787  and  1788,  was  printed  in  1791.  They  are  now,  reprinted 
from  the  edition  1791,  with  his  Birth-Day  Odes  for  1789  and  1790,  Sonnet  in  imitation  of  Spenfer, 
and  his  Latin  poems  ad  Somnum  and  <^ui  Jit  Maccnas,  omitted  in  former  editions,  received  for  the 
fuft  time  into  a  collection  of  claflkal  Englifh  poetry. 

His  character  was  truly  amiable  and  refpectable.  To  his  friends  he  was  endeared  by  his  fimple, 
open,  and  friendly  manners;  to  the  Univerfity  of  Oxford  by  his  long  refidence  and  many  fervices; 
and  to  the  public  by  the  valuable  additions  which  have  been  made  by  his  talents  to  Englifli  poetry, 
antiquities,  and  criticifm.  His  mind  was  more  fraught  with  wit  and  mirth  than  his  outward  ap 
pearance  promifed.  His  perfon  was  unwieldy  and  ponderous,  and  his  countenance  fomewhat  in 
ert  ;  but  the  fafcination  of  his  converfe  was  wonderful.  He  was  the  delight  of  the  jovial  Attic  board, 
anniverfaries,  mufic  meetings,  &c.  and  poflefied  beyond  moft  men  the  art  of  communicating  variety 
to  the  dull  famencfs  of  an  Oxford  life.  With  eminent  abilities,  and  fcholaftic  accomplifhments,  he 
united  thofe  conciliatory  talents,  that  amiable  fociabiiity  of  manners,  which  could,  to  the  claim  of 
refpect  for  the  author,  add  that  of  efteem  for  the  man.  He  was  a  liberal  fcholar,  aa  agreeable  com 
panion,  a  warm  philanthropic,  a  difintcrefted  Chriftian,  and  an  amiable  man. 


TliELIFEOFWARTON.  •          1057 

"  Hisfocial  qualities,"  fays  a  writer  in  the"  Gentleman's  Magazine"  for  1790,  "had long  endeared 
him  to  the  members  of  his  own  fociety,  among  whom  he  conftantly  refided.  The  brilliancy  of  his 
wit,  the  folidity  of  his  judgment,  and  the  affability  of  his  temper,  give  to  all  who  had  the  happinefs 
of  his  acquaintance,  the  moft  pungent  regret  for  his  irreparable  lofs.  His  literary  productions  have 
rendered  him  peculiarly  eminent  as  an  annotator,  a  biographer,  an  antiquary,  and  a  poet ;  and  he 
may  be  defervedly  confidered  as  the  ornament,  not  only  of  the  univerfity,  but  of  the  literary  world 
at  large.  Such,  indeed,  was  the  vigour  of  his  mind,  the  claflical  purity  of  his  tafte,  the  extent  and 
variety  of  his  learning,  that  his  memory  will  be  for  ever  revered  as  a  profound  fcholar,  and  a  man 
of  true  genius.  Learning  mufl  deplore  him  as  one  of  her  bed  and  moft  valuable  ornaments." 

As  an  author,  he  has  chiefly  diftirguifhed  himfelf  as  a  l>iogrtfl>ert  a  Lijlorian,  a  critic, and  a  ftet. 

In  his  Li-vet  of  Dr.  Baihurjl  and  Sir  Tlomat  Pofe,  we  find  that  art,  propriety,  and  eafe,  which  cha- 
raderize  the  productions  of  thof'e  whofe  talents  have  been  carefully  cultivated  by  refleftion  and  ilu- 
dy.  But  they  will  not,  perhaps,  by  the  generality  of  readers,  be  deemed  either  inftruclive  or  enter 
taining.  Of  the  memorials  of  Dr.  Batburjl,  which  have  been  tranfmitted  to  pofterity,  few  are  at 
this  time  interefting  or  affeding  enough  to  engage  the  attention  of  the  public  ;  but  he  may  be  credit 
ed  for  his  induftry,  and  the  difficulties  he  furmounted  in  attaining  the  neceffary  information  to  com 
plete  his  work.  The  infufiiciency  of  the  materials  which  time  has  preferved  concerning  Sir  Tiimai 
foft,  has  e,ngaged  him  to  enter  occafionally  into  hiftorical  digreflions.  Among  other  national  tran- 
fadions,  he  gives  an  intercfting  relation  of  the'perfecutionsof  the  Princefs  Elizabeth,  fiut  on  lofing 
fight  of  Sir  Tbomti  Pofe,  he  detracts  from  the  merit  of  his  performance,  confidered  as  a  compofition. 
The  principal  figure  in  the  picture  being  eclipfed  by  the  decorations  that  furround  it,  the  eye  is  fix 
ed  on  the  latter,  and  neglects  the  former.  Indeed,  the  life  of  a  perfon  whofe  capacity  was  flender 
and  limited,  who  never  fuftained  or  merited  any  important  office,  and  whofe  fphere  of  action  wa« 
narrow,  is  not  properly  an  objed  of  curiofity.  The  mind  does  Hot  willingly  beftow  its  attention 
on  infigniflcant  circumflances;  its  fenfibilities  can  only  be  awakened  by  what  is  fhining  and  illuftri- 
ous.  The  literary  toil  which  fhould  be  employed  in  narrations  concerning  thofe  who  have  difplay- 
ed  valour  in  the  field,  or  wifdom  in  the  cabinet,  fhould  never  be  wafted  in  inquiries  concerning 
men  who  have  aded  in  inferior  or  fubordinate  Rations.  The  portion  of  the  laborious  drudge,  who 
is  put  in  motion  at  the  command  of  a  mailer,  and  who  neither  plans  nor  thinks,  is  filence  and  ob- 
fcurity. 

As  an  iifiorian,  his  reputation  is  founded  on  his  Hifory  of  F.ngl;Jb  Potiry  ,•  the  very  name  of  which 
warms  the  heart  of  every  man  of  tafte  and  elegance.  .An  hiftory  of  Englifh  poetry  has  long  been  a 
<leftJcratum  in  the  learned  world.  A  plan  of  this  kind  had  been  agitated  by  Pope,  in  which  our 
poets  were  clafled  under  their  fuppofed  refpedive  khools.  It  was  afterwards  adopted  by  Gray* 
The  fubftance  of  Gray's  plan,  which  was  that  of  Pope,  confiderably  enlarged,  extended,  and  im 
proved,  is  given  in  his  "  Life."  Both  thefe  plans  Warton  has  rejected,  and  has  chofen  to  conduct 
his  work  in  a  chronological  feries ;  for  this  obvious  reafon,  that  it  exhibits,  without  tranfpofition, 
the  gradual  improvements  of  our  poetry,  at  the  fame  time  that  it  uniformly  reprefents  the  pro- 
greflion  of  cur  language.  Yet  he  ha§  not  always  adhered  fo  frrupuloufly  to  the  regularity  of  an 
nals,  but  that  he  hat  often  deviated  into  occafional  digrefiions.  His  reafons  for  commencing  his 
annals  with  the  Norman  ac«  ffion,  rather  than  the  Saxon  government,  feem  conclufive ;  the  for 
mer  being  the  era  when  our  national  clarafter  began  to  dawn.  HU  work  is  introduced  by  a 
Preface,  which  is  at  once  elegant  and  inftrudive,  and  two  differtations,  on  t!.-e  Origin  of  Romantis  Fic 
tion,  and,  on  tie  introdufiion  of  learning  into  England;  in  which  are  difcovered  fuch  exquifitc  and  genu 
ine  elegance,  fuch  profound  and  extenfive  erudition,  fuch  acute  and  rational  deductions,  that  we  are 
at  a  lofs  to  determine  what  is  their  prevailing  beauty ;  yet  ther-.nalogy  between  European  and  Arabian 
legends,  and  the  probable  accounts  how  the  fame  fpirit  and  genius  of  fidion  might  be  transferred 
from  Afia  to  thefe  northern  climes,  are  not,  as  it  fhould  feem,  a  probable  folution,  even  with  the  af- 
fiftance  of  the  Crufades,  for  the  nature  and  variety  of  European  romances.  Much,  we  conceive, 
muft  ftill  be  kft  for  the  native  exertions  and  the  original  product  of  invention.  The  innumerable 
hords  that  migrated  from  the  Nortn-Eaft,  and  overflowed  the  Weft,  were  not  without  their  roman 
tic  fidions ;  of  a  different  fpecics,  indeed,  from  the  Arabic  fabling ;  but  the  latter  came  quickly  to 
incorporate  with  them  ;  and  the  rcirance  of  the  Arab  feemed  only  as  a  fplendid"  caparifon  to  the 
chivalry  of  the  Goth.  To  his  opinion  with  rcfpe-ft  to  the  peculiar  influence  of  women  under  the 

VOL.  Xr,  3  X 

\ 


THE   LIFE   OF  WARTON. 

Gothic  eflablifhments,  we  readily  fubfcribe ;  but  the  fmall  degree  of  attention  and  refpedt  with 
which  the  Greeks  and  Romans  treated  the  fair  ftx,  and  that  inconfiderahli  fhare  which  they  were 
permitted  to  take  in  converfation,  and  the  general  commerce  of  life,  fcem  carried  to  an  extreme 
which  the  claffical  writers  (to  whom  he  appeals)  will  fcarcely  warrant.  Had  the  female  infig- 
nificance  and  feclufion,  afcribed  to  claffic  times,  been  predicated  of  the  women  of  nvdern  Greece, 
the  remark  had  been  juft.  But  fixed  on  the  eras  of  Sophocles  and  Alcibiades,  of  Propertius  an4 
Tibullus  Brutus  and  Cato,  it  lofes  all  manner  of  propriety.  In  regard  to  the  fecond  differtation, 
and  that  on  the  Gejla  JRtmanoruin,  prefixed  to  the  third  volume,  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  approve 
and  admire  The  period  of  antiquity  at  which  he  commences  his  work,  is  by  no  means  a  field  for 
popular  recreatiou.  Some  of  the  flowers,  indeed,  which  may  be  collected  in  a  fcene  fo  vaft  and  un 
cultivated,  are  neither  without  fragrance  nor  beauty ;  but  thefe  are  not  to  be  enjoyed  by  a  tafte 
formed  upon  modern  compofition.  The  obfolete  terms,  and  uncouth  numbers  through  which  the 
few  rays  of  genius  which  appear  in  that  remote  era  muft  appear,  almoft  eclipfe  their  laftre,  and 
leave  it  entirely  indifcernible,  except  to  fuch  eyes  a*  are  accuftomed  to  derive  pleafure  from  a  long 
and  diftant  retrofpect  Thefe  obfervations  will  apply  to  the  various  extracts  given  of  metrical  ro 
mances,  and  other  legendary  performances,  from  the  commencement  of  the  hiftory  till  the  days  of 
Chaucer.  We  do  net  .deny  but  that  Lan^land  has  merit .  his  defcriptions  are  picturefque,  his 
characters  juft  and  natu-al,  and  his  fattre  poignant ;  bur  the  harfh  verification,  and  antiquated  ftyle 
in  which  h?  writes,  muft  tender  thefe  beauties  imperceptible  to  the  grenteft  number  of  readers:  and 
•We  rnuft  ftill  denominate  the  ag;e  of  Chaucer  not  only  the  era  of  refinement  in  Englifh  verfifica- 
tion,  but  even  the  dawn  of  poetical  genius  How  glorious  the  meridian  at  which  it  arrived,  under 
the  aufpices  of  ^penfer.  shakfpeare,  and  Milton,  we  need  not  atttmp'  to  defcribe. 

The  predominant  features  of  this  agreeable  and  inftructive  work,  are  elegant  compofition,  acute 
and  genuine  criticifm,  and  literary  refcarch.  But  it  is  not  Warton's  principal  merit,  that  he  invef- 
tigates_his  fubject  with  the  patience  of  an  antiquary,  and  the  acutenefs  of  a  critic  ;  from  his  accurate 
delineation  of  character,  it  is  evident  that  he  has  infpected  the  manners  of  mankind  as  they  occa- 
fionally  pafs  before  him,  with  the  penetrating  eye  of  a  philofopher.  This  praife  he  has  merited  by 
his  pieliminary  Dij/ertatiens~by  his  elaborate  account  of  Chaucer  and  his  poetry,  and  by  his  reflec 
tions  tending- to  eftablifh  a  full  efrimate  of  the  genius  of  the  poetry  of  Qneen  Elizabeth's  reign  ; 
which  compofe  the  concluding  fection  of  hi*  third  volume  The  r.ijlory  of  Englijb  Poetry  has  rare 
and  ftriking  merits,  and  may  be  juftly  confidered  as  a  valuable  acceffion  to  Englifh  literature.  But 
it  i*  not  without  its  defects.  He  has  Clown,  it  would  feem,  more  folicitude  in  collect  ng  his  ma 
terials,  than  perfpicuity  and  accuracy  in  arranging  them.  Hence  it  has  been  found  fo  dry  and  op- 
pr-  ffive,  as  to  fubdue  the  eagernefs  of  the  generality  cf  reader- ;  and  hence  nearly  one  fourth  of 
thefcctnJ  volume  is  filled  with  errata  and  amendments  to_the  firjl ;  a  circumftance  the  more  re 
markable,  as  he  wa>-  not  tied  down  to  precipitate  publication  by  a  fubfcript'on ;  as  his  bufinefs  was 
literature  :  as  he  had  been  long  accuftomed  co  the  ufe  of  the  prefs ;  and  as  he  was  equally  poffefftd 
of  learning  and  leifure. 

As  a  Critic,  his  Objei nations  on  Spenfir,  an  edition  of  Theocritus,  and  notes  on  Milton,  entitle  him 
to  rank  with  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  Mr.  Spence,  Dr.  Juhnfon,  Dr.  Hurd,  and  Dr.'Wartoni  the  moft  ele 
gant  and  clafllcal  critics  of  our  nation. 

His  Ol/ervationi  on  the  Faery  Qutene,  have  defervedly  obtained  the  approbation  of  the  learned  world. 
He  has  been  indefatigable  in  illuftrating  the  obfcurities,  and  bringing  out  the  beauties  of  the 
great  father  of  allegorical  poetry ;  but  his  work  has  not  obtained  any  very  extend ve  popularity,  and 
has  failed  to  rccal  the  attention  of  the  public  to  the  writings  of  this  neglected  Englifh  claffic. 

On  the  merits  of  his  Inquiry  into  the  authenticity  of  the  Pteais  attributed  to  Rnnvley,  it  is  unneceffary  to 
enlarge,  as  they  have  been  already  confidered  and  acknowledged  in  the  "  Life  of  Chatterton." 

His  elegant  and  accurate  edition  of  TLeacritus,  the  great  father  of  paftoral  poetry,  does  honour 
to  the  literature  of  our  country.  In  his  Dtjferta'ien  on  Bucolic  poetry,  if  too  much  is  advanced  upon 
conjecture,  it  muft  be  allowed  that  there  is  confiderable  learning  and  ingenuity.  Though  the 
Scholia  on  Theoiritut  are  not  fo  numerous  as  thofe  on  fume  other  Greek  authors,  they  are  not  lefs 
valuable.  They  boaft  feme  of  the  moft  diftinguifhed  names  among  the  fchool- critics  and  reftorers. 
Thf  principal  obfervations  of  thefe  fcholiafts.  Warton  has.  with  great  labour,  collected  and  digeft- 
cd,  and  has  at  the  fame  time  enriched  the  common  treafury  with  contributions  of  his  awn.  The 


THE   LIFE   OF  WART  ON.  1059 

reputation  of  his  cbadiutor  Mr.  Toup,  as  a  Greek  fcholar,  is  too  well  cftablilhed  to  receive  any  ad 
dition  from  the  higheft  praife  which  the  prefent  writer  can  beftow. 

For  a  commentator  on  Milton  he  was  peculiarly  qualified,  being  not  only  converfant  with  the 
elegant  remains  of  Grecian  and  Roman  learning,  litit  intimately  acquainted  with  thofe  trcafures  of 
Gothic  and  Old  Englifh  literature,  with  which  Milton,  in  his  ywinger  days,  appears  to  have  been 
fingularly  delighted,  and  to  which  frequent  allufions  are  made  even  in  the  "  Paradife  Loft.1'  In 
fpice  of  objections  which  may  occafionally  be  made,  his  Notes  and  Illufrations  mnft  be  allowed  to 
contain  a  rich  body  of  anecdote  and  criricifm.  They  are  manifeftly  the  rcfuk  of  diligent  reading 
and  parent  refearch;  fcrving  to  unfold  the  treafures  whence  Milton  drew  moft  of  his  beautiful  im 
agery  ;  to  explain  his  Gothic  and  clafikal  allufions  ;  to  point  out  the  fource  of  many  of  his  concep 
tions  ;  and,  at  the  fame  time,  to  demonstrate  and  difylay  the  ftrength  and  fublimity  of  his  genius. 
Thefe  notes,  which  may  be  called  liflorical,  and  thofe  at  the  end  of  the  larger  poems,  containing  a 
kind  of  general  critique  on  them,  abound  with  valuable  information,  and  are  drawn  up  with  much 
judgment  and  tafte.  Though  in  fome  inftances  his  labour  appears  fuperfluous,  we  cannot  but  ad 
mire  the  extent  of  his  reading,  and  the  pains  he  has  raken  to  collate  pafTages,  in  order  to  fhow 
whence  'M.ihonjtolt  every  balmy  fiveet.  It  by  no  means  indubitably  follows,  that  Milton  was  in« 
debted  to  preceding  writers  to  the  extent  which  his  collations  intimate.  Critics,  when  employed  in 
detecting  imitations,  are  very  apt  to  purfue  the  matter  too  far.  Later  poets  are  generally,  repre- 
fented  by  them  as  imitating  their  predeceiTjrs,  in  inftances  where  it  ii  more  reafonable  10  conclude 
them  alike  copied  from  nature.  We  coincide  in  opinion  with  Walfh,  when  he  fays,  in  one -of  his 
letters  to  Pope,  "  In  all  common  fubjects  of  poetry,  the  thoughts  are  fo  obvious  (at  leaft  if  they 
are  natural),  that  whoever  writes  latt,  mud  write  things  like  what  have  been  faid  before."  His 
obfervations  on  Milton's  religious  principles,  ate  fuch  as  the  text  by  no  means  juftifies,  and  feera 
rather  fuggefted  by  prejudices  than  difpaflionate  reafon.  But  he  does  ample  juftice  to  his  genius, 
and  even  directly  affirms,  "  that  what  was  enthuiiafm  in  moft  of  the  puritanical  writers,  was 
poetry  in  Milton." 

As  nf'.tt,  his  genius  was  directed  by  claflic  tafte  and  judgment;  and  his  fancy,  however  fcduc- 
tive,  led  him  not  to  an  affectation  of  over-laboured  ornament.  Simplicity  and  perfpicuity,  fuppcrt- 
«d  by  elegance,  are  the  diftinguifhing  marks  of  his  poetry.  His  competitions  are  highly  finifhed 
and  original,  as  far  as  perpetual  claffic  imitations  and  allufion^  will  allow  ;  his  verification  is  ner 
vous  and  correct,  his  reading  extenfive,  and  his  knowledge  of  teal  nature  acquired  from  an 
actual  furvey  of  her  works.  It  feems  as  if  the  moft  confiderable  of  his  poems  had  been  caft  in  the 
mould  of  fome  gifted  prcdeceffor  ;  but,  according  to  thofe  critics,  who  afcribe  the  invention  of  every 
i'pecies  of  poetry  to  the  Greeks,  even  Horace  himfelf  had  his  archetypes.  It  will  eafily  be  perceived 
by  readers  of  tafte,  that  he  is  of  the  fchool  of  Spenfer  and  Milton,  rather  than  that  of  Pope.  He 
has  manifeftly  and  confefiedly  imitated  other  poets,  Gray,  J.  Philips,  and,  in  his  Netv-marlct,  Pope  ; 
but  in  his  defcriptive  poetry,  Milton  was  not  only  his  model,  in  refpect  of  language  and  verification, 
but  of  ideas.  It  muft,  however,  be  allowed,  that  he  has  extended  Milton's  kind  of  imagery  to  more 
objects,  and  painted  en  a  larger  canvafs.  His  imitations  of  Milton,  like  the  pictures  of  Raphael 
painted  by  Giulio  Romano,  are  perfectly  copied ;  but  ftill  they  are  copies. 

The  Pleafurts  of  Melancholy,  one  of  his  earlieft  productions,  is  a  beautiful  Miltonic  poem,  abound 
ing  with  bold  metaphors  and  highly-coloured  pictured.  The  indulgence  of  melancholy,  by  attend 
ing  the  cathedral  fervice  during  winter  evenings,  and  the  luxury  of  tragic  tears  at  the  theatre, 
are  feelingly  and  poetically  defcribed.  The  Tttiimfl  of  JJts,  in  fertility  of  invention,  and  felicity 
of  expreflion,  may  challenge  a  comparifon  with  Mr.  Mafon's  admirable  "  Elegy,"  which  occafion- 
ed  it.  The  Infeription  In  a  Hermitage  at  An/ley  Hall,  is  beautifully  fimple  and  chara&eriftic.  The 
Monody  "written  at  Stratford  upon  Avon,  is  well  appropriated  and  picturefque.  The  graphical  painting 
of  the  river,  and  the  fine  enthufiafm  that  follows,  are  of  the  happieft  execution.  The  poem  on  tBs 
DeatL  of  George  11.  is  one  of  the  beft  of  his  performances.  It  is  elegant  and  harmonious,  in  the 
h:gheft  degree.  The  verfes  on  tie  Marriage  of  the  King  have  equal  merit.  The  whole  is  finely  ima 
gined,  and  animated  with  a  .noble  love  of  his  country,  its  glory  and  its  conftitution.  Hit  Rew- 
marttt,  a  fatire,  has  loft  none  of  its  ftings  by  time,  as  the  vices  at  which  they  are  darted  are  ftill  in 
full  force.  The  lines  are  admirably  turned,  and  their  feverity  is  by  no  means  overcharged  The 
Pafi<.r*l  in  the  M.ann<r  of  Sfenfer}  is  an  ingenious  imitation,  and  the  Otic  on  the  Affrtatb  of  Summer  il 


ic6&  THE  LIFE  OF  WART  ON. 

replete  with  true  poetry ;  but  the  imagery  is  Miltonic,  and  perpetually  reminds  us  of  the  fource 
whence  it  was  drawn.  The  ufe  of  old  words  in  a  poem  noc  called  an  imitation  of  ibme  old  bard,  feems 
a  ftudied  imperfection  ;  fuch  are  the  words  aye,  eld,  murky,  -watcbet.  The  frequent  mixture  of  regular 
trocbaics  of  feven  fyliables,  and  iambics  of  eight,  feems  a  defect.  If  authority  will  juftify  this  metrical 
irregularity,  he  has  Milton  in  his  "  Allegro"  and  "  Penferofo"  on  his  fide,  and  Gray  in  his  "  De- 
fcent  cf  Odin,"  "  Triumphs  of  Owen,"  and  "  Death  of  Hoel  ;"  but  convenience  or  inadvertence 
feem  to  have  occafioned  thcfe  deviations  from  regularity,  rather  than  choice  or  fyftem.  The  Ham 
let  is  a  delightful  pitSure  of  rural  life,  or  rather  of  the  life  of  th«  hufbandman.  Ftc'iiefifua  bona  nerit. 
But  to  enjoy  what  the  poet  defcribes,  he  mud  pbficfs  the  poet's  enthufiafm.  The  Odefcnt  to  a 
friend  en  bis  leaving  a  favourite  Vtllagt  in  Hampjliire,  is  another  very  agreeable  fpecimen  of  his  talent 
for  defcriptive  poetry,  fas  Suicide  is  characterized  by  bold  perfonification,  pidcurefque  defcription, 
and  pathetic  fentiment.  The  Ode  written  at  Vale-Royal  Abbey,  is  much  in  the  ftyle  and  manner  of 
Gray's  "  Church- Yard  Elegy,"  and  appears  to  be  modelled  upon  it ;  yet  it  wants  the  fimplicity  of 
the  latter  ;  but  that  pcffibly  the  magnificence  of  the  fubjecl  would  not  eafiiy  allow.  Hs  feems  alfo 
to  have  had  Gray  in  view  in  his  Crufade  and  tic  Crave  of  King  Arthur ;  for  rhey  tare  much  in  the 
wild  ftrains  of  his  Cambrian  lyre.  They  are  not  inferior  to  Gray's  "Triumphs  of  Owen"  and 
"  Death  of  Hoel ;"  at  the  fame  time,  they  have  more  perfpicuity.  In  the  Ode  fur  Mafic,  are  fpirit, 
force,  and  fancy,  which  will  give  pleafure  to  an  Engiilhman,  as  long  as  the  prefent  language  re- 
mains  intelligible. 

Among  the  pieces  of  pleafantry  and  humour,  The  Progrrfs  of  Difcontsnt  is  one  of  the  moft  agree 
able,  "fbe  Caflle  Barber' i  Soliloquy,  and  the  Oxford  Ne-wfman  s  Verfes^'Ate.  HudibrafHc  compofltions; 
of  which  much  of  the  merit  confifts  in  the  rhymes.  The  Prologue  on  the  oU  Wincbefter  Play-Houfe, 
over  the  Butcher's  Shambles,  is  full  of  wit  and  humour.  The  Pbztcn  and  tie  One-Horfe  Chair,  is  a 
manifeft  imitation  of  Smart's  fable  of  "  The  Bag- Wig  and  Tobacco-Pipe."  The  Grizzle,  and  the 
Epijlle  to  Tbtmji  Hearn,  are  locally  humourous.  The  Pane^ri:  on  Oxford  Ale,  i*  fo  clofc  an  imitation 
of  J.  Philip's"  Splendid  Shilling,"  that  many  of  the  ideas  and  epithets  are  the  fanie.  Much  hu 
mour  and  pleafantry,  however,  are  difplayed  in  this  burlefque  poem. 

In  the  conftrudtion  of  Sonnets  in  the  Italian  meafures,  he  feems  more  ingenious  and  happy  than 
moft  of  thofe  who  have  attempted  that  difficult  fptcies  of  competition  ;  but  we  perceive  a  ftiffnefs 
and  ccnfiraint  even  in  thofe  of  Warton,  which  fhow  them  to  be  aliens,  and  heterogeneous  to  our  lan 
guage.  The  Sonnets,  -written  at  IVinftadi,  and  to  the  River  LeJen,  are  eminently  beautiful. 

It  has  been  obferved,  that  he  is  particularly  happy  in  defcriptive  poetry  ;  and  he   has,  in  his  Ntto- 
Ycar  a.n&  Birtl-Day  Odes,  rendered  it  neceffary  to  extend  this  praife  to  his  felicity  in  Gothic  painting, 
for  which  he  probably  qualified  himfclf,  by  h'is  ftudy  of  Chaucer,  Spenfer,  and  other  old  authors, 
who  have  defcribed  the  feats  of"  knights  and  barons  bold  ;"  who 
In  fage  and  folemn  tunes  have  fung 
Of  turneys,  and  of  trophies  hung. 

The  Odes  for  1787  and  1788,  while  he  had  no  fplendid  foreign  or  domeftic  events  to  cele 
brate,  nor  any  calamities  to  deplore,  abound  with  Gothic  pUSlures  and  embellifhments,  which  give 
that  kind  of  mellownefs  to  thefe  poems,  that  time  confers  on  medals  and  productions  of  the  pencil. 
£irib-day  Dies  have  fo  long  been  treated  with  obloquy  and  contempt,  that  however  well  they  may 
be  written,  they  are  not  only  read  with  unwf!ingncfs,  but  with  determined  feverity  ;  and  yet  we 
find  in  thofe  of  Warton  a  Pindaric  boldnefs  and  fire,  which  fcholars  of  tafte  and  candour  ruuft  per 
ceive, -however  they  may  withhold  their  praife.  Others,  who  are  not  qualified  to  relifh  the  fublime 
beauties,  and  animated  graces  of  the  higher  poetry,  will  find  ample  fcope  for  ridicule  in  the  Gothic 
pomp  and  garniture  of  bis  verfe  ; 

His  Norman  minftrelfy,  and  ivied  towers, 
Knight-errant  tales,  and  bpenfcr's  fancy  bowers. 

Among  the  modern  Latin  poets,  there  are  few  who  do  not  yield  to  Warton.  His  Latin  Pocmi  are 
Taluable,  as  much  for  their  fancy  and  genius,  as  for  their  Qylc  and  exprefiion.  They  difcover  true 
claffical  feeling,  and  abound  with  ideas  and  expreffions  which  have  been  conceived  in  the  fame  lan 
guage  in  which  they  are  written.  The  poem  on  the  rebuilding  tb:  Cbafet  of  Trinity  College,  1748,18 
not  only  the  moft  confiderable  in  length,  but  feems  to  contain  a  greater  proportion  of  beautiful 
lines  than  any  of  his  other  pieces;  all  of  which  have,  however,  their  feveral  merits,  and  arc  fuck 
as  would  not  difgracc  a  Roman  in  the  days  of  Auguftus, 


THE  WORKS  OF  WARTQN. 


POEMS. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  ISIS. 

OCCASIONED    BY   ISIS,    AN     ELEGY. 
WRjfTTEN  IN    1749. 

«  Quid   mihi   nefcio   quam,    pronrio    cum   Ty- 

~    ''  bride,  Romam 

«  Semper  in  ore  geris  ?  Referunt  fi  vera  parentes, 
"  Hanc  urbem  infano  nullus  qui  marte  petivit, 
"  Lsetatus  violafTe  redit.     Nee  numina  fcdem 
"  Deftituunt "  CLAUDIAN. 

ON  clofing  flowers  when  genial  gaks  diffufe 
The  fragrant  tribute  of  refreihing  dews; 
When  chants  the  milk-maid  at  her  balmy  pail, 
And  weary  reapers  whittle  o'er  the  vale  ; 
Charm'd  by  'the  murmurs  of  the  quivering  (hade, 
O'er  Ifis"  willow-fringed  banks  I  itray'd  : 
And  calmly  muting  through  the  twilight  way, 
In  penfive  mood  I  fram'd  the  Doric  lay. 
When  lo  !  from  opening  clouds  a  golden  gleam 
Pour'd  fudden  fplendours  o'er  the  fhadowy  ftream; 
And  from  the  wave  arofe  it's  guardian  queen, 
Known  by  her  fweeping  ftole  of  gloit'y  green ; 
While  in  the  coral  crown  that  bound  her  brow, 
Was  wove  the  Delphic  laurel's  verdant  bough. 

As  the  fmooth  furface  of  the  dimply  flood 
The  filver-flipper'd  virgin  lightly  trod  ; 
From  her  loofe  hair  the  dropping  dew  fine  prefs'd 
And  thus  mine  ear  in  accents  mild  addrcfs'd: 
No  more,  my  fon,  the  rural  reed  employ, 
Nor  trill  the  tinkling  drain  of  empty  joy  ; 
No  more  thy  loverrefounding  fonnets  fuit 
To  notes  of  paftoral  pipe,  or  oaten  flute. 
For  hark  !  high-thron'd  on  yon  majeftic  walls, 
To  the  dear  mufe  afflicted  freedom  calls: 
When  freedom  calls,  and  Oxford  bids  thee  ling, 
Why  ftays  thy  hand  to  ftrike  the  founding  firing 
While  thus,  in  Freedom's  and  in  Phsbus'  fpitc, 
The  venal  fons  of  fiavifh  Cam  unite  ; 
To  fhake  yon  towers  when  malice  rears  her  cref 
Shall  all  my  fons  in  filence  idly  reft  ? 

Still  fing,  O  Cam,  your  fav'rite  freedom's  caufe ; 
Still  boaft  of  freedom,  while  you  break  her  laws: 
To  power  your  fangs  of  gr'atulation  pay, 
To  Courts  addrefsfoft  flattery's  fervilc  i  iv. 
What  though  your  geurle  Mafon's  plaintive  verfe 
Has  hung  v/ith  fweeteft  wreaths  ' 


,rhat  though  your  vaunted  bard's  ingenuous  woe, 
oft  as  my'ftream,  in  tuneful  numbers  flow; 
rct  ftrove  his  mufe,  by  fame  or  envy  led, 
o  tear  the  laurels  from  a  filler's  head  ? — 
Vlifguided  youth  !  with  rude  unclaflic  rage 
'o  blot  the  beauties  of  thy  whiter  page  ! 
A  rage  that  fullies  e'en  thy  guiltlefs  lays, 
And  blafts  the  vernal  bloom  of  half  thy  hays. 

et boaft  the  patrons  of  her  name, 

iach  fplendid  fool  of  fortune  and  of  fame  : 
Still  of  preferment  let  her  fhine  the  queen, 
^rolific  parent  of  each  bowing  dean  : 
3e  her's  each  prelate  of  the  pamper'd  check, 
?.ach  courtly  chaplain,  fanctified  and  fleck  : 
Still  let  the  drones  of  her  cxhauftlefs  hive 
On  rich  pluralities  fupinely  thrive  : 

1  let  her  fenates  titled  flaves  revere, 
Nor  dare  to  know  the  patriot  from  the  peer  ; 
No  longer  charm'd  by  virtue's  lofty  fong, 
Once  hear'd  fage  Milton's  manly  tones  among-, 
Where    Cam,   meandering   through   the   matted 

resds, 

With  loitering  wave  his  groves  of  laurel  feeds. 
' Tis  our's,  my  fon,  to  deal  the  facred  bay, 
Where  honour  calls,  and  juftice  points  the  way 
To  wear  the  well-earn'd  wreath  that  merit  brings, 
And  fnatch  a  gift  beyond  the  reach  of  kings. 
Scorning  and  fcorn'd  by  courts,  yon  mufe's  bower 
Still  nor  enjoys,  nor  feeks,  the  finite  of  power. 
Though  wakeful  vengeance  watch  my   cryftal 

fpring, 

Though  periecution  wave  her  iron  wing, 
And,  o'er  yon  Ipiry  temples  as  fhe  flies, 
"  Thefe  defiin'd  feats  be  rnirie,"  exulting  cries ; 
Fortune's  fair  fniiles  on  Ifis  ftill  attend  : 
Asd,  as  the  dews  of  gracious  Heaven  defcend 
Unaik'd,  unfeen,  in  ftill  but  copious  fnow'rs, 
Her  ilores  on  me  fpontancous  bounty  pours. 
See,  fcience  walks  with  recent  chaplets  crown'd; 
With  fancy's  (train  my  fairy  fhades  refound  •  . 
My  mufe  divine  ftill  keeps  her  cuftom'd  itate, 
The  mien  erccl:,  and  high  majeftic  gait : 
Green  as  of  old  each  oliv'd  portal  fir.iles, 
And  ftill  the  graces  build  my  Grecian  piles : 
My  Gothic  Ipires  in  ancient  glory  rife, 
And  dare  with  wonted  prid?  to  rufh  into  the  ikies. 

E'en  late,  when  Radcliffe's  delegated  train 
Aufpicious  fhone  in  Ifis'  happy  plain  : 


root 


THE   WORKS    OP   WART  ON. 


V/ho|  yon  proud  *  come,  fair  learning's  ampleft 

fhrine, 

Beneath  its  Av<c  roofs  receiv'd  the  nine; 
\V'as  rapture  rrute,  or  c-as'd  the  glad  acclame, 
To  RadclifFe  due,  ?nd  Ills'  honour' d  ?iame  ? 
"What  free-born  crowds  adorn'd  the  fcllive  day, 
Nor  blufh'd  to  wear  my  tributary  bay  ! 
Hmv  each  brave  breaft  with  hone  ft  ardors  heav'dj 
V.'hen  Sheldon's  fane  the  patriot  band  rectiv'd ; 
While,  as  we  loudly  hail'd  thechofen  few, 
Rome'sawfnl  fcnat?  rulh'd  upon  the  view  ! 

O  may  the  day  in  lateft  ;\>in.als  mine, 
That  made  a  Beaufort  and  an  Harley  mine : 
That  bade  them  It-ave  the  loftier  fcene  awhile, 
The  pomp  of  guiltlefs  ftate,  the  patriot- toil, 
For  bleeding  Albion's  aid  the  fage  def.gn, 
To  hold  fhort  dalliance  with  the  tuneful  nine. 
Then  mufic  left  her  filver  fphcre  on  high, 
And  bore  each  ftrain  of  triumph  from  the  flcy  ; 
Swell'd  the  loud  fong,  an'd  tn  my  chiefs  around 
Pour'd  the  full  peans  of  mellifluous  found. 
Mv  Naiads  blithe  the  dying  accents  caught, 
And  iiftening  danc'd  beneath  their  pearly  grot : 
In  gentler  eddies  play'd  my  confeious  wave, 
«A.r.d  all  my  reeds  their  fcfteft  whifpers  gave  ; 
Each  \;y  with  brighter  grecc  sdorn'd  my  bowers, 
And  breath'd  a  freiher  fragrance  on  my  flowers. 

But  lo  !  at  once  the  pealing  concerts  ccafe, 
And  crowded  theatres  are  huih'd  in  peace. 
See,  on  yon  fage  how  ail  attentive  ftand, 
To  catch  his  darting  eye,  and  waving  hand. 
Hark  !  he  begins,  with  all  a  Tuliy's  art, 
To  pour  the  dictates  of  a  Gate's  heart  •. 
Skill'd  to  pronounce  what  nobleft  thoughts  infpire, 
He  blends  the  fpeaker's  with  the  patriot's  fire ; 
Bold  to  conceive,  nor  timorous  to  conceal, 
What  Britons  dare  to  think,  he  dares  to  tell. 
'Tis  his  alike  the  ear  and  eye  to  charm, 
To  win  with  adlion,  and  with  fenle  to  warm ; 
Untaught  in  flowery  periods  to  difpenfe 
The  lulling  founds  of  fv.-eet  impertinence : 
In  frowns  or  fmiles  he  gains  an  equal  prize, 
Nor  n.eanly  fears  to  fall,  nor  creeps  to  rife ; 
Bids  happier  days  to  Albion  be  reftor'd, 
Bids  ancient  juftice  rear  her  radiant  fword ; 
From  me.  as  from  my  country,  claims  applaufe, 
And  makes  an  Oxford's,  a  Britannia's  caufe. 

While  arms  like  thefe  my  ftedfaft  fages  wield, 
While  mine  is  truth's  impenetrable  fliield ; 
Say    {hall  the  puny  champion  fondly  dare 
To  wage  with  force  like  this  fcholaftic  war  ? 
Still  vainly  fcribble  on  vyith  pert  pretence, 
"With  all  the  rage  of  pedant  impotence  ? 
Say,  fhall  I  fofler  this  domeftic  peft, 
This  parricide,  that  wounds  a  mother's  breaft  ? 

Thus  in  fome  gailaiu  Ihip,  that  long  has  bore 
Britain's  victorious  crofs  from  ftore  to  more, 
By  chance,  ben-ath  herclofe  fequefter'd  cells, 
Some  low-born  worm,  a  lurking  mifchief  dwells; 
Eats  his  blind  way}  and  faps  wkh  fecret  guile 
The  deep  foundations  of  the  floating  pile  : 
In  vain  the  foreft  lent  its  ftateheft  pVide, 
Rear'd  her  tall  maft,  and  fram'd  her  knotty  fide ; 
The  martial  thunder's  rage  in  vain  me  flood, 
With  every  connicl  of  the  flormy  flood; 


*  Ibs  Radili/e  Library. 


More  fure  the  reptile's  little  art* devour, 

Than  wars  or  waves,  or  Eurus'  wint'ry  power.    1 

Ye  fretted  pinnacles,  y«  fanes  fublifne, 
Ye  towers  that  wear  the  mofiy  veft  of  time ! 
Ye  maffy  piles  of  old  munificence, 
At  once  the  pride  of  learning  and  defence  ; 
Ye  cloiftcrs  pale,  that  lengthening  to  the  fight, 
To  contemplation,  ftep  by  ftep,  invite ; 
Ye  high-arch'4  walks,  where   oft  the  whifper* 

clear 

Of  harps  unfeen  have  fwept  the  poet's  ear; 
Ye  temples  dim,  where  pious  duty  pays 
Her  holy  hymns  of  ever-echoing  praife  ; 
Lo  !  your  lov'd  Ifis,  from  the  bordering  vale, 
With  a.11  a  mother's  fondnds  bids  you  hail ! — 
Hail,  Oxford,  hail !  of  all  that's  good  an    great, 
Of  all  that's  fair,  the  guardian  and  the  feat; 
Nurfe  of  e^ch  brave  purfuit,  each  generous  aim, 
By  truth  exalted  to  the  throne  of  fame  ! 
Like  Greece  in  fcience  and  in  liberty, 
As  Athens  learn'd,  as  Lacedemon  free  ! 

Ev'n  novv,  confefs'd  to  my  adoring  eyes, 
In  awful  ranks  thy  gifted  fons  arife. 
Tuning  to  nightly  tale  his  Britifh  reeds, 
Thy  genuine  bards  immortal  Chaucer  leads : 
His  hoary  head  o'erlooks  the  gazing  quoir, 
And  beams  on  all  around  celeftial  fire. 
With  graceful  ftep  fee  Addifon  advance, 
The  fweeteft  child  of  Attic  elegance : 
See  Chillingworth  the  depths  of  doubt  explore, 
And  Selden  ope  the  roils  of  ancient  lore  : 
To.  all  but  his  beiov'd  embrace  deny'd, 
See  Locke  lead  reafon,  his  majeftic  bride  : 
See  Hammond  pierce  religion's  golden  mine, 
And  fpread  the  treafur'd  ftores  of  truth  divine. 

All  who  to  Albion  gave  the  arts  of  peace, 
And  beft  the  labours  plann'd  of  letter'd  eafe  : 
Who  taught  with  truth,  or  with  perfuafion  mov'd  ; 
Who  footh'd  with  numbers,   or   with  ferife  im- 

prov'd; 

Who  rang'd  the  powers  of  reafon,  or  refin'd, 
All  that  adorn'd  or  humaniz'd  the  mind; 
Each  priefl  of  health,  that  mix'd  the  balmy  bowl,- 
To  rear  frail  man,  and  flay  the  fleeting  foul ; 
All  crowd  around,  and  echoing  to  the  flcy, 
Hail,  Oxford    hail!  with  filial  tranfport  cry. 

And  fee  yon  fapient  train  !  with  liberal  aim, 
'Twas  theirs  new  plans  of  liberty  to  frame  ; 
And  on  the  Gothic  gloom  of  flavifti  fway 
To  fhed  the  dawn  of  infelleclual  day. 
With  mild  debate  earh  mufing  feature  glows, 
And  well-weigh'd  counfels  mark  their  meaning 

brows. 

"  Lo  !  thefe  the  leaders  of  thy  patriot  line," 
A  Raleigh,  Hamden,  and  a  Somers  fhine. 
Thefe  from  thy  fource  the  bold  contagion  caught, 
Their  future  fons  the  great  example  taught : 
While  in  each  youth  tli'  hereditary  flame 
Still  blazes,  unextinguifh'd,  and  the  fame  ! 
Nor  all  the  talks  of  thoughtful  peace  engage, 
'Tis  thine  to  form  the  hero  as  the  fage. 
I  fee  the  fable-fuited  prince  advance 
With  lilies  crown'd,  the  fpoils  of  bleeding  France, 
Edward.     The  mufes,  in  yon  cloifter'd  fhade, 
Bound  on  his  maiden  thigh  the  martial  blade : 
Bade  him  the  fteel  for  Britifh  freedom  draw, 
And  Oxford  taught  the  deeds  that  Creffy  faw. 


POEMS. 


And  fee,  great  father  of  the  facred  band, 
The  *  patriot  king  before  me  fetins  to  ftand. 
He  liy  the  bloom  of  this  gay  vale  beguil'd 
That  cheer'd  with  lively  green  the  fliaggy  wild, 
Hither  of  yore,  forlorn,  forgotten  maid, 
The  mule  in  prattling  infancy  convey'd  ; 
From  Vandal  ragi-  the  helpiefs  virgin  bore, 
And  fix'd  her  cradle  on  my  friendly  fhore : 
Soon  grew  the  maid  beneath  his  foftering  hand, 
Soon  llream'd  her  bleflings  o'er  the  enlighten'c 

land. 

Though  fimple  was  the  dome,  where  firfl  to  dwell 
She  deigu'd,  and  rude  her  early  Saxon  cell, 
Lo  !  now  {he  holds  her  ftate  in  fculptur'd  bowers 
And  proudly  lifts  to  Heav'n  her  hundred  towers. 
Tv/as  Alfred  firft,  with  letters  and  with  la*s, 
Adorn'd,  as  he  advanc'd,  his  country's  caufe  : 
He  bade  relent  the  Briton's  ''ubborn  foul, 
And  footh'd  to  foft  fociety's  controul 
A  rough  untutor'd  age.     With  raptur'd  eye 
Elate  he  views  his  laurel'd  progeny : 
Serene  he  fmiles  to  find,  that  not  in  vain 
He  form'd  the  rudiments  of  learning's  reign  : 
Himlelf  he  marks  in  each  ingenuous  breaft, 
With  all  the  founder  in  the  race  expreft  : 
Confcious  he  fees  fair  freedom  (till  furvive 
In  yon  bright  domes,  ill-fattd  fugitive  ! 
(Glorious,  as  when  the  goddefs  pour'd  the  beam 
Unfullied  on  his  ancient  diadem) ; 
Well-pleas'd,  that  at  his  own  Pierian  fprings 
She  refts  her  weary  feec.  and  plumes  her  wings ; 
That  here  at  laft  me  takes  her  deftin'd  ftand, 
Here  deigns  to  linger,  ere  fhe  leave  the  land. 

ELEGY 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF   THE  LATE   FREDERIC 
PRINCE  OF  WALES. 

O  FOR  the  warblings  ef  the  Doric  ote,      [tida  ! 
That  wept  the  youth  deep-whelm'd  in  ocean's 
Or  Mulla's  mufe,  who  chang'd  her  magic  note 
To  chant  how  dear  the  laurel'd  Sidney  died  ! 
1'hen  ftiould  my  woes  in  worthy  ftrain  be  fung, 
And  with  due  cyprefs-crown  thy  hirfe,  O  Frederic, 
hung. 

But  though  my  novice-hands  arc  all  too  weak 
To  grafp  the  founding  pipe,  my  voice  unfkill'd 
The  tuneful  phrafe  »>i  poefy  to  fpeak, 
Uncouth  the  cadence  of  my  carols  wild: 
A  nations'  tears  fhall  teach  my  fong  to  trace 
The  prince  that   deck'd   his  crown  with  every 
milder  grace. 

How  well  he  knew  to  turn  from  flattery's  fhrine, 
To  drop  the  fwceping  pall  of  fcepter'd  pride  ; 
Led  by  calm  thought  to  paths  of  eglantine, 
And  rural  walks  on  His'  tufted  fide : 
To  rove  at  large  amid  the  lundikips  ft  ill,     f  hill. 
Where  contemplation  fat  on  Ciifden's  beech-clad 

How,  lock'd  in  pure  affection's  golden  band, 
Through  facred  wedlock's  unambitious  ways, 
With  even  ftep  he  walk'd,  and  conftant  hand, 
His  temples  binding  with  domeftic  bays  : 
Rare  pattern  of  the  chafte  connubial  knot, 
firm  in  a  palace  kept,  as  in  the  clay-built  cot ! 


How  with  difcerning  choice,  te  nature  true, 
He  cropp'd  the  fimpie  flowers    or  violet, 
Or  crocus-bud,  that  with  ambrofial  hue 
The  banks  of  filver  Helicon  befet  -. 
Nor  feldom  wak'd  the  mufe's  living  lyre 
To  founds  that  call'd  around  Aonia's  liftening  choir. 

How  to  the  few  with  fparks  ethereal  ftor'd, 
He  never  barr'd  his  caftle's  genial  gate.       [board, 
But  bade  fweet  Thomfon    fhare   the  "fri  ndly 
Soothing  with  verfe  divine  the  toil  of  ftate : 
Hence  fir'd,  the  bard  forfook  the  flowery  plain, 
And  deck'd  the  regal  rnafk,  and  try'd  the  tragic 
ftrain. 

INSCRIPTION  IN  A  HERMITAGE 

AT  ANSLEY-HALL,   IN   WARWICKSHIB  E, 

BENEATH  this  ftony  roof  reclin'd, 
I  footh  to  peace  my  penfive  mind : 
And  while,  to  fhade  my  lowly  cave, 
Embowering  elms  their  umbrage  wave ; 
And  while  the  maple  difh  is  mine, 
The  beechen  cup,  unftain'd  with  wine  : 
I  fcorn  the  gay  licentious  crowd, 
Nor  heed  the  toys  that  deck  the  proud. 

iVithin  my  limits  lone  and  ftill, 

The  blackbird  pipes  in  artlefs  trill ; 

Faft  by  my  couch,  congenial  gueft,  j 

The  wren  has  wove  her  moffy  neft ; 

From  bufy  fcenes,  and  brighter  Ikies, 

To  lurk  with  innocence,  flic  flies; 

Here  hopes  in  fafe  repofe  to  dwell, 

Nor  aught  fufpecls  the  fylvan  cell. 

At  morn  I  take  my  cuftom'd  round,  | 

To  mark  how  buds  yon  fluubby  mound ; 

And  every  opening  primrofe  count, 

That  trimly  paints  my  blooming  mount: 

Or  o'er  the  fculptures,  quaint  and  rude, 

That  grace  my  gloomy  folitude 

I  teach  in  winding  wreaths  to  lira 

Fantaftic  ivy's  gadding  fpray. 

At  eve,  within  yon  ftudious  nook, 

I  ope  my  brafs-embofied  book, 

I'ourtray'd  with  many  a  holy  deed 

Of  martyrs,  crowu'd  with  heavenly  meed : 

Then,  as  my  taper  waxes  dim, 

Cham,  ere  I  fleep,  my  meafur'd  hymn ; 

And,  at  the  clofe,  the  gleams  behold 

Of  parting  wings  bedropt  with  gold. 

While  fuch  pure  joys  my  blifs  create, 
Who  but  would  fmile  at  guilty  ftate  ? 
Who  but  would  wifli  his  holy  lot 
In  cairn  oblivion's  humble  grot  ? 
Who  but  wouJi  caft  his  pomp  away, 
To  take  my  ftafF,  and  amice  gray ; 
And  to  the  world's  tumultuous  ftagc 
Prefer  the  blamelefs  hermitage  ? 

MONODY, 

WRITTEN   NEAR    STRATFORD  U>ON  AVON. 

AON  ,  thy  rural  view?,  thy  pafture?  wild, 
1  twillows  that  o'erhang  thy  twilight  edge, 
Tu  boughs  entarglinj  with,  th'  tn  battled  fcdgsi 
3  X  iuj 


ray 


THE   WORKS   OF   WARTON. 


Thy  brink  with  watery  foliage  q-iamtly  fring'd, 

Thy  furface  with  reflected  verdure  tinged; 

Sooth  me  with  many  a  pcnfive  pleafure  mild. 

But  while  I  mufe,  that  here  the  bard  divir.c 

"Whofe  facred  duft  yon  high  arch' J  allies  i-nclofe, 

Where  the  tall  windows  rife  in  {lately  rows 

A&ove  th'  embowering  fhade, 

Here  firft,  at  fancy's  fairy-circlrd  fhrine, 

Of  daifiespied  his  infant  offering  made  ; 

Here  playful  yet,  in  {tripling  years  unripe, 

Fram'd  of  thy  reeds  a  fhrill  and  artlefs  pipe : 

Sudden  thy  beauties,  Avon,  ail  are  fled, 

As  at  the  waving  of  fome  magic  wand  ; 

An  holy  trance  my  charmed  fpirjt  wings, 

Andawefnl  fhapes  of  warriors  and  of  kings 

People  the  bufy  mead, 

Like  fpedres  fvrarming  to  the  wizard's  hall ; 

And  flowly  pace,  and  point  with  trembling  hand 

The  wounds  ill-cover'd  by  the  purple  pail. 

Before  me  pity  feems  to  ftand 

A  weeping  mourner,  fmote  with  anguifh  fore, 

To  fee  misfortune  rend  in  frantic  mood 

His  robe,  with  regal  woes  embroider  d  o'er. 

Pale  terror  leads  the  vifionary  band, 

And  fternly  fhakes" his fceptre,  dropping  blood. 


DEATH  OF  KING  GEORGE  THE  SECOND. 

TO  MR.  SECRETARY   PITT  *. 

So  ftream  the  forrows  that  embalm  the  brave, 
The  tears  that  fcience  fheds  oh  glory's  grave ! 
So  pure  the  vows  which  claflic  duty  pays 
To  blefs  another  Brunfwick's  rifing  ray  s ! 

O  Pitt,  if  chofen  ftrains  have  power  to  fteal 
Thy  watchful  breaft  awhile  from  Britaiiv's  weal ; 
If  votive  verfe  from  facred  Ifis  fent, 
.Might  hope  to  charm  thy  manly  mind,  intent 
On  patriot  plans,  which  ancient  freedom  drew, 
A  while  with  fond  attention  deign  to  view  • 
This  ample  wreath,  which  all  th'  affenibled  nine 
"With  {kill  united  have  confpir'd  to  twine. 

Yes,  guide  and  guardian  of  thy  country's  caufc  ! 
Thy  confcious  heart  fhall  hail  with  juft  applaufe 
The  duteous  mufe,  whofe  hafte  officious  brings 
Her  blamelefs  offering  to  the  fhrine  of  kings: 
Thy  tongue,  well-tutor'd  in  hiftork  lore, 
Can  {peak  her  office  and  her  ufe  of  yore  : 
1" or  fuch  the  tribute  of  ingenuous  praife 
Her  harp  difpcns'd  in  Grecians  golden  clays ; 
Such  were  the  palms  in  iiles  of  old  renown, 
yfee  cull'd,  to  deck  the  guiltlefs  monarch's  frown  ; 
"When  virtuous  Pindar  told,  with  Tufcan  gore 
How  fcepter'd  Hiero  ftain'd  Ficilla's  fhore, 
Or  to  mild  Theron's  raptur'd  eye  disclos'd 
Bright  vales,  where  fpiritsof  die  biavc  repos'd  : 
Tct  ftill  beneath  the  throne,  unbrib'd,  fhe  fate, 
The  decent  handmaid,  not  the  flava  of  ftate ; 
Pleas'd  in  the  radiance  of  the  regal  name 
To  blend  the  luftre  of  her  country's  fame  : 
For,  taught  like  our's,  {he  dar'd,  with  prudent 

pride, 
Obedience  from  dependence  to  divide : 


*  jjficrtuards  Lord  Chatham.  This  and  tie  tii-» 
following  poems  clofe  the  collisions  of  Oxford  Verfes  on 
ibcir  rtfpedi'jt  oc cificns ;  and  -we re  viriHtn  wLHe  if.: 
-*-*ibsr  was  fitiry  pr'afeflor. 

*  - 


Though  princes  claim'd  her  tribulai ; 

With  truth  I'cvcre  ihe  temper'd  partial  praife  ; 

Confcious  ihe  krpt  her  native  dignity, 

Bold  as  her  flights,  and  as  her  numbers 'free. 

And  fare  if  e'er  the  mufe  indulg'd  her  {trains, 
With  juft  regard,  to  grace  heroic  reigns, 
Where  could  her  glance  4  theme  of  triumph  own 
So  dear  to  fame  as  George's  tiophitd  tnroue  .' 
At  whofe  firm  Ljfi  thy  Itedfail  foul  afpires, 
To  wake  a  mighty  nation's  ancitnt  fires : 
Afjjires  to  baffje  faction's  fpecious  claim, 
Rouze  England's  rage,  and  give  her  thunder  aim : 
Once   more    the  nutiii   her    conquering   banners 

fweep, 

Again  her  commerce  darkens  all  the  deep. 
Tiiy  fix'd  refolve  renews  each  firm  decree 
That  made,  that  kept  of  yore,  thy  country  free. 
OHM  by  thy  voice,  nor  deaf  to  war's  alarms, 
Its  willing  youth  the  rural  empire  arms : 
A  ^:'i:i  the  lord;;  of  Albion's  cultur'd  plains 
Mar cli  the  firm  leaders  of  their  faithiul  fwains; 
As  erlt  (lout  archers,  from  the  farm  or  fold. 
Flam'd  in  the  van  of  ma.tr/  a  barcn  bold. 

Nor  thine  the  pomp  of  indolent  debate, 
The  war  of  words,  the  fophiftries  of  ftate ; 
Nor  frigid  caution  checks  thy  free  defign, 
Nor  flops  thy  ftream  of  eloquence  divine  : 
For  thine  the  privilege,  en  iew  beftow'd, 
To  fed,  to  think,  to  ipeak,  for  public  good. 
In  vain  corruption  calls  her  venal  tribe's: 
One  common  caufe  one  common  end  prefcribes : 
Nor  fear  nor  fraud,  or  fpares  or  fcrecns,  the  foe, 
But  fpirit  prompts,  and  valour  ftrikes,  the  blow, 

O  Pitt,  while  honour  points  thy  liberal  plan. 
And  o'er  the  minifter  exalts  the  man, 
Ifi-*  congenial  greets  thy  faithful  fway, 
Nor  fcorns  to  bid  a  ftatefrnen  grace  her  lay. 
For  'tis  not  her's,  by  falfe  connections  drawn, 
At  fpleadid  flavery's  fordid  fhrine  to  fawn; 
Each  native  effort  of  the  feeling  breaft, 
To  friends,  to  foes,  in  equal  fear,  fuppreft  : 
'Tis  not  for  her  to  purchase  or  purfue 
The  phantom  favours  of  the  cringing  crew : 
More  ufeful  toils  her  ftuclioys  hours  engage^ 
And  fairer  leffons  fill  her  ipotkfs  page  : 
Beneath  ambition,  .but  above  difgrace, 
V/itli  nobler  arts  fhe  forms  the  rifing  race  : 
With  happier  tafkj,  and  lefs  refin'd  pretence, 
In  elder  times,  fhe  woo'd  munificence 
To  rear  her  arched  roofs  in  regal  guife, 
And  lift  her  temples  nearer  to  the  fides  ; 
Princes  and  prelates  flretch'd  the  focial  hand. 
To  form,  diffufe,  and  fix,  her  high  command: 
From  kings  fhe  claim'd,  yet  fcorn'd  to  feek,  the 
prize,  [wile. 

From   kings,  like   George,  benignant,  juft,  and 

Lo,  this  her  gennine  lore. — Nor  thou  refufe 
This  humble  prefent  of  no  partial  mufe  [ful  youth 
From  that  calm  bower  *,  which  nurs'd  thy  thought- 
Ir»  the  pure  precepts  of  Athenian  truth : 
Where  firft  the  form  of  Britifh  liberty 
Beam'd  in  full  radiance  on  thy  mufing  eye ; 
•  That  form,  whofe  mien  fublime,  with  equal  awe, 
In  the  fame  fhade  unblemifh'd  Somcrs  faw  : 

*  Trinity  College,  Oxford;  in  ivbicb  a'fv  Lord  So- 
mtrs,  and  James  Harrington^  author  of  ibt  OfeJiifff 
irirc  educated. 


P.    O    E    M    S. 


Where  once  (for  well  flic  lov'd  the  friendly  grove  I 

Which  every  claffic  grace  had  learn'd  to  rove) 

Her  whifper's  ivak'd  fage  Harrington  to  feign 

The  bleffifigs  cf  her  villonary  reign ; 

That  reign,  which  now  no  more  an  empty  theme, 

Adorns  philosophy's  ideal  dream, 

But  crowns  at  laft,  beneath  a  George's  fmilc, 

in  full  reality  this  favour'd  iile. 

ON  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING, 

TO   HER   MAJESTY.    1761. 

WHEN  fiift  the  kingdom  to  thy  virtues  due 
Role  from  the  billowy  deep  in  dillant  view  ; 
When  Albion's  ifie,  old  ocean's  peerkis  pride, 
Tower'd  in  imperial  ftate  above  the  tide ; 
What  bright  ideas  of  the  new  domain 
Form'd  the  fair  profpecl  of  thy  promis'd  reign  ! 

And  well  with  confcious  joys  thy  breafl  might 

.beat 

That  Albion  was  ordain'd  thy  regal  feat: 
Lo !   this  the  land,  where  freedom's  facred  rage 
Has  glow'd  untam'd  through  many  a  martial  age. 
Here  patriot  Alfred,  ftain'd  with  Danilh  blood, 
Rear'd  on  one  bafe  the  king's  the  people's  good : 
Here  Henry's  archers  fram'd  the  ftubborn  bow 
That  laid  Alanzon's  haughty  helmet  low  ; 
Here  wak'dthe  flame,  that  ftill  fuperior  braves 
The  proudeft  threats  of  Gaul's  ambitious  flaves : 
Here  chivalry,  flern  fchool  of  valour  old, 
Her  noblefl.  feats  of  knightly  fame  enroll'd ; 
Heroic  champions  caught  the  clarion's  call, 
And  throng' d  the  feaft  in  Edward's  banner' d  hall: 
While  chiefs,  like  George,  approv'd  in  worth  alone, 
TJnlock'd  chafte  beauty's  adamantine  zone. 
Lo !  the  fam'd  ifle,  which  hails  thy  chofen  fvvay, 
What  fertile  fields  her  temperate  funs  difplay ! 
Where  property  fecures  the  confcious  fwain, 
And  guards,  while  plenty  gives,  the  golden  grain : 
Hence  with  ripe  ftores  her  villages  abound, 
Her  airy  downs  with  fcatter'd  ftieep  refound ; 
Frefli  are  her  paftures  with  unceafing  rills, 
And  future  navies  crown  her  darkfome  hills. 
To  bear  her  formidable  glory  far, 
Behold  her  opulence  of  hoarded  war ! 
See,  from  her  ports  a  thoufand  banners  ftream ; 
On  every  coaft  her  vengeful  lightnings  gleam  ! 
Meantime,  remote  from  ruin's  armed  hand, 
In  peaceful  majefty  her  cities  iland  ; 
Whofe  fplendid  domes,  and  bufy  ftrects,  declare, 
Their  firmeft  fort,  a  king's  parental  care. 

And  O  !  bleft  queen,  if  e'er  the  magic  powers 
Of  warbled  truth  have  won  thy  mufing  hours ; 
Here  poefy,  from  aweful  days  of  yore, 
Has  pour'd  her  genuine  gifts  of  raptur'd  lore. 
Mid  oaken  bowers,  with  holy  verdure  wreath'd, 
In  druid-fongs  her  folemn  fpirit  breath'd  : 
While  cunning  bards  at  ancient  banquets  fung 
Of  paynim  foes  defied,  and  trophies  hung. 
Here  Spenfer  tun'd  his  myfticrain  ft  reify, 
And  drefs'd  in  fairy  robes  a  queen  like  thec. 
Here,  boldly  mark'd  with  every  living  hue, 
Nature's  unbounded  portrait  Shakfpeare  drew  : 
But  chief,  the  dreadful  groupe  of  human  woes 
.The  daring  artifl's  tragic  pencil  chofe  ; 
Kxp'or'd  the  pangs  that  rend  the  royal  bread, 
Toic  wounds  .that  lurk  beneath  the  tiffued  veil ! 


,o !  this  the  land,  whence  Milton's  mufe  of  fire 
riigh  foar'd  to  ftcal  from  heaven  a  feraph's  lyre; 
And  told  the  golden  ties  of  wedded  love 
n  facred  Eden's  amaranthine  grove. 

Thine  too,  majeftic  bride,  the  favour'd  clime, 
Where  fcience  fit?  enlhrin'd  in  roofs  fuhlime. 
O  mark,  how  green  her  wood  of  ancient  bays 
O'er  ifis'  marge  in  many  a  chaplet  ftrays! 
Thither,  if  haply  fome  diitiuguiih'd  flower 
Of  thefe  mix'd  blooms  from  that  ambrofial  bower, 
Might  c;itch  thy  glance,  and  rich  in  nature's  hue, 
Entwine  thy  diadem  with  honour  due  ; 
If  ieenily  gifts  the  train  of  Phebus  pay, 
To  deck  imperial  Hymen's  feftive  day ; 
Thither  thyielf  fhall  hafte,  and  mildly  deign 
To  tread  with  nymph-like  ftep  the  confcious  plain; 
Pleas'd  in  the  mufe's  nook,  with  decent  pride, 
To  throw  the  fcepter'd  pall  of  flate  afide  : 
Nor  from  the  fhade  (hall  George  be  long  away, 
That  claims  Charlotta's  love,  and  courts  her  ftay. 
Thefe  are  Britannia's  praifes.     13eign  to  trace 
With  rapt  reflection  freedom's  favourite  race ! 
But  though  the  generous  ifle,  in  arts  and  arms, 
Thus  Hand  fupreme,  in  nature's  choiceft  charms; 
Thpugh  George  and  conqucft  guard  her  fea-girt 

throne, 

One  happier  bleffing  flill  fhe  calls  her  own ; 
And,  proud  to  cull  tke  faireft  wreath  of  fame, 
Crowns  her   chief  honours   with   a   Charlotte'^ 

name. 


BIRTH  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 

WRITTEN    AFTER    THE    INSTALLATION    AT 
WINDSOR,  IN  THE  SAME  YEA»,  1762. 

IMPERIAL  dome  of  Edward  wife  and  brave ! 
Where  warlike  honour's  brighteft  banners  wave; 
At  whofe  proud  tilts,  unmatch'd  for  hardy  deeds, 
Heroic  kings  have  frown'd  on  barbed  Heeds : 
Though  now  no  more  thy  crefted  chiefs  advance 
In  arm'd  array,  nor  grafp  the  glittering  lance ; 
Though  knighthood  boafts  the  martial  pomp  n* 

more 

That  grac'd  its  gorgeous  feftivals  of  yore; 
Say,  confcious  dome,  if  e'er  thy  marfliall'd  knight* 
So  nobly  deck'd  their  old  majeftic  rites, 
As  when,  high  thron'd  amid  thy  trophied  fhrine, 
George  fnone  the  leader  of  the  garter'd  line  ? 

Yet  future  triumphs,  Windfor,  rtill  remain; 
Still  may  thy  bowers  receive  as  brave  a  train ; 
For  lo  !  to  Britain  and  her  favour'd  pair, 
Heaven's  high  command  has  fent  a  facred  heir! 
Him  the  bold  pattern  of  his  patriot  fire 
Shall  fill  with  early  fame's  immortal  fire : 
In  life's  frefli  fpring,  ere  buds  the  promis'd  prime, 
His  thoughts  fhall  mount  to  virtue's  meed  fublimev 
The  patriot  fire  fliall  catch,  with  fure  prefage, 
Each  liberal  omen  of  his  opening  age ; 
Then  to  thy  courts  fhall  lead,  with  confcious  joy, 
In  ftrippling  beauty's  bloom,  the  princely  boy  ; 
There  firmly  wreathe  the  braid  of  heavenly  dye4 
True  valour's  badge,  around  his  tender  thigh. 

Meantime,  thy  royal  piles  that  rife  elate 
With  many  an  antique  tower,  in  maffy  ftate, 
In  the  young  champion's  mufing  mind  ihali  raifc 
Vaft  images  of  Albion's  elder  days. 


Xc66 


THE   WORKS   OF   WARTON. 


While,  as  around  his  caper  glance  explores 
Thy  chambers,  rough  with  war's  con  ft  rucled  ftores, 
Rude  helms,  and  bruifed  ftiields,  barbaric  fpoils 
Of  ancient  chivalry's  undaunted  toils; 
Anaid  the  dufky  trappings,  hung  on  high 
Young  Edward's  fable  mail  fliall  ftrike  his  eye  : 
Shall  tire  the  youth,  to  crown  his  riper  years 
With  rival  Creffy's,  and  a  new  Poitiers  ; 
On  the  fame  wall,  the  fame  triumphal  bafe, 
His  own  victorious  monuments  to  place. 

Nor  can  a  fairer  kindred  title  move      • 
His  emulative  age  to  glory's  love 
Than  Edward,  laureate  prince.     In  letter'd  truth, 
Oxford,  fage  mother,  fchool'd  his  ftudious  youth  : 
Her  fimple  inftitutes,  and  rigid  lore, 
The  royal  nurfling  unrelu&ant  bore; 
Nor  fhunn'd,  at  penfive  eve,  with  lonefome  pace 
The  cloifter's  moonlight-chequer'd  floor  to  trace; 
Nor  fcorn'd  to  mark  the  fun,  at  mattins  due, 
Stream  through  the  ftoried  window's  holy  hue. 

And  O,  young  prince,  be  thine  his  moral  praife; 
Nor  feek  in  fields  of  blood  his  warriour  bays. 
War  has  its  charms  terrific.     Far  and  wide 
When  ftands  th'  embattled  hoft  hi  banner'd  pride; 
O'er  the  vest  plain  when  the  (brill  clangours  run, 
And  tne  long  phalanx  fla1h.es  in  the  fun ; 
When  now  no  dangers  of  the  deathfulday 
Mar  the  bright  fcene,  nor  break  the  firm  array ; 
Full  oft.  too  rafliiy  glows  with  *bnd  delight 
The  youthful  breaft,  and  aiks  the  future  fight ; 
Nor  knows  that  horror's  form,  a  fpe&re  wan, 
Stalks,  yet  unfeen,  along  the  gleamy  van. 

May  no  fuch  rage  be  thine  :  No  dazzling  ray 
Of  ipecious  fame  thy  ftedfaft  feet  betray. 
Be  thine  domeftic  glory's  radiant  calm, 
Be  thine  the  fceptre  wreath'd  with  many  a  palm : 
Be  thine  the  throne  with  peaceful  emblems  hung, 
The  filver  lyre  to  milder  conqueft  ftrung! 

Inftead  of  glorious  feats  achiev'd  in  arms, 
Bid  rifing  arts-  difplay  their  mimic  charms ! 
Juft  to  thy  country's  fame,  in  tranquil  days, 
Record  the  paft,  and  roufe  to  future  praife : 
Before  the  public  eye,  in  breathing  brafs, 
Bid  thy  fam'd  lather's  mighty  triumphs  pafs: 
Swell  the  broad  arch  with  haughty  Cuba's  fall, 
And  clothe  with  Minden's  plain  th'  hiftoric  hall. 
Then  mourn  not,  Edward's  dome,  thine  ancient 

boaft, 

Thy  tournaments,  and  lifted  corrbats  loft  ! 
From  Arthur's  board,  no  more,  proud  caftle,  mourn 
Adventurous  valour's  Gothic  trophies  torn! 
Thofe  elfin  charms,  that  held  in  magic  night 
Its  elder  fame    and  dimm'd  its  genuine  light, 
At  length  difiblve  in  truth's  meridian  ray, 
And  rhe  bright  order  burfts  to  perfed:  day  : 
The  myftic  round,  begirt  with  bolder  peers, 
On  virtues  bafe  it's  refcued  giory  icurs  : 
Sees  civil  prowefs  mightier  a<fts  achieve, 
Sees  meek  humanity  diftrefs  relieve  ; 
Adopts  the  worth  that  bi.ds  the  conflict  ceafe, 
And  claims  its  honours  from  the  chiefs  of  peace. 

»VERSES 

ON   SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLD'S  PAINTED  WINDOW 
AT  MEW-COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 

An,  ftay  thy  treacherous  hand,  forbear  to  trace 
Thofefauitlefs  forms  of  elegance  and  grace  ! 


Ah,  ceafe  to  fpread  the  bright  irnnfparent  ma$, 
With  Titian's  pencil,  o'er  the  fpeaking  glafs ' 
Nor  ft.eal,  by  ftrokes  of  art  with  truth  combin'd^ 
The  fond  illufions  of  my  wayward  mind  ! 
For  long,  enamour'd  of  a  barbarous  age, 
A  fair'ilefs  truant  to  the  claflic  page  : 
Long  have  I  lov'd  to  catch  the  fimple  chime 
Of  minftrcl-harps,  and  fpell  the  fabling  rime; 
To  view  the  feftive  rites,  the  knightly 4>lay, 
That  deck'd  heroic  Albion's ek'.er  day; 
To  mark  the  mould'ring  halh  of  barons  bold. 
And  the  rough  caftle,  caft  in  giant  mould; 
With  Gothic  manners  Gothic  arts  explore, 
And  mufe  on  the  magnificence  of  yore. 

But  chief,  enraptur'd  have  I  lov'd  to  roam, 
A  lingering  votary,  the  vaulted  dome, 
Where  the  tall  fhafts,  that  mount  in  mafly  pride. 
Their  mingling  branches  (hoot  from  fide  to  fide^ 
Where  elfin  fculptors,  with  fantaftic  elew, 
O'er  the  long  roof  their  wild  embroidery  drew ; 
Where  fuperftition,  with  capricious  hand 
In  many  amaze  the  wreathed  window  plann'd, 
With  hues  romantic  ting'd  the  gorgeous  pane, 
To  fill  with  holy  light  the  wondrous  fane ; 
To  aid  the  builder's  model,  richly  rude, 
By  no  Vitruvian  fymmetry  fubdu'd ; 
To  fuit  the  genius  of  the  myftic  pile  : 
Whilft  *s  around  the  far-retiring  ifle, 
And  fretted  flirines,  with  hoary  trophies  hung, 
Her  dark  illumination  wide  fhe  flung, 
With  new  folemnity,  the  nooks  profound, 
The  caves  of  death,  and  the  dim  arches  frown'dL. 
From  blifs  l»ng  felt  unwillingly  we  part : 
Ah    fpare  the  weaknets  of  a  lover's  heart ! 
Chafe  not  the  phantoms  of  my  fairy  dream, 
Phantoms  that,  fhrink  at  reafon's  painful  gleam  I 
That  fofter  touch,  infidious  artift  ftay, 
Nor  to  new  joys  my  ftruggling  breaft  betray ! 
Such  was  a  penfive  bard's  miftaken  ftrain.— 
But,  oh,  of  raviih'd  pleafures  why  complain  ? 
No  more  the  matchlefs  {kill  J  call  unkind 
That  ftrives  to  difenchant  my  cheated  mind. 
For  when  again  I  view  thy  chafte  defign, 
rhe  juft  proportion,  and  the  genuine  line; 
Thofe  native  portraitures  of  Attic  art, 
That  from  the  lucid  furface  feem  te  ftart 
Thofe  tints,  that  fteal  no  glories  irom  die  dayj 
Nor  afk  the  fun  to  lend  his  ftreaming  ray: 
The  doubtful  radiance  of  contending  dyes, 
That  faintly  mingle,  yet  diftin&ly  rife; 
Twixt  light  and  fhade  the  tranfitory  ftriie; 
The  feature  blooming  with  immortal  life : 
The  ftole  in  cafual  foldings  taught  to  flow, 
Not  with  ambitious  ornaments  to  glow ; 
The  tread  majeftic,  and  the  beaming  eye      i 
That  lifted  fpeaks  its  commerce  with  the  Iky  j 
Heaven's  golden  emanation,  gleaming  mild 
O'er  the  m«an  cradle  of  the  virgin's  child : 
Sudden,  the  fombrous  imagery  is  fled, 
Which  late  my  vifiorary  rapture  fed  : 
Thv  powerful  hand  has  broke  the  Gothic  chain, 
And  brought  my  bofom  back  to  truth  again: 
To  truth  by  no  peculiar  tafte -confin'd, 
Whofe  univerlal  pattern  ftrikes  mankind  ; 
To  truth,  whofe  bold  and  unrefifted  aim 
Checks  frail  caprice,  and  fafliion's  fickle  claim  ; 
To  truth,  whofe  charms  deception's  magic  queli,.- 
And  bind  coy  fancy  in  a  ftronger 


POEMS. 


Ye  brawny  prophets,  that  in  rohes  fo  rich, 
At  diftance  due.  poffefs  the  criipc-d  nich ; 
Ye  rows  of  patriarchs,  that  fublimely  rear'd 
DuTufe  a  proud  primeval  length  of  beard  : 
Ye  faints,  who  clad  in  crimfon's  bright  array, 
More  pride  than  humble  poverty  difplay: 
Ye  virgins  meek,  that  wear  the  palmy  crown 
Of  patient  faith,  ana  yet  fo  fiercely  frown  : 
Ye  angels,  that  from  clouds  of  gold  recline, 
But  boaft  no  femblance  to  a  race  divine : 
Yc  tragic  tales  of  legendary  lore, 
That  draw  devotion's  ready  tear  no  more; 
Ye  martyrdoms  of  unenlighten'd  days, 
Ye  miracles,  that  now  no  wonder  raife  : 
Shapes,  that  with  one  broad  glare  the  gazer  ftrike, 
Kings,  biihops,  nuns,  apoftles,  all  alike  ! 
Ye  colours,  that  th'  unwary  fight  amaze, 
And  only  dazzle  in  the  noontide  blaze  ! 


No  more  the  facred  window's  round  difgracc, 
But  yield  to  Grecian  groupes  the  fliining  fpacc. 
Lo,  from  the  canvas  beauty  fhifts  her  throne, 
Lo,  pi&ure's  powers  a  new  formation  own ! 
Behold,  {he  prints  upon  the  cryftal  plain, 
With  her  own  energy,  th'  expreflive  (lain  I 
The  mighty  mailer  fpreads  his  mimic  toil 
More  wide,  nor  only  blends  the  breathing  oil; 
But  calls  the  lineaments  of  life  complete 
From  genial alchymy's  creative  heat; 
Obedient  forms  to  the  bright  fufion  gives, 
While  in  the  warm  enamel  nature  lives,    [height, 
Reynolds,  'tis  thine,  from  the  broad  window's 
To  add  new  luflre  to  religious  light : 
Not  of  its  pomp  to  ftrip  this  ancient  fhrine, 
But  bid  that  pomp  with  purer  radiance  {nine: 
With  arts  unknown  before,  to  reconcile 
The  willing  graces  to  the  Gothic  pile. 


ODES. 


ODE  I; 

TO  SLEEP: 

ON  this  my  penfivc  pillow,  gentle  fleep ! 
Defcend,  in  all  thy  downy  plumage  dreft : 
Wipe  with  thy  wing  thefe  eyes  that  wake  to  weep, 
And  place  thy  crown  of  poppies  on  my  breaft. 

0  fteep  my  fenfes  in  oblivion's  balm, 

And  footh  my  throbbing  pulfe  with  lenient  hand; 
This  tempeft  of  my  boiling  blood  becalm  ! — 
Pefpair  grows  mild  at  thy  fupreme  command. 

Yet  ah  !  in  vain,  familiar  with  the  gloom, 
And  fadly  toiling  through  the  tedious  night, 

1  feek  fweet  (lumber,  while  that  virgin  bloom, 
For  ever  hovering,  haunts  my  wretched  fight. 

Nor  would  the  dawning  day  my  forrows  charm : 
Black  midnight,  and  the  blaze  of  noon,  alike 
To  me  appear,  while  with  uplifted  arm 
Death  {lands  prepar'd,  but  {till  delays,  to  ftrike. 

ODE  11^ 

THE    HAMLET. 
Written  in  Whlcbtuood  Fere]?. 

THE  hinds  how  bleft,  who  ne'er  beguil'd 
To  quit  their  hamlet's  hawthorn-wild; 
Nor  haunt  the  crowd,  nor  tempt  the  main, 
For  fplendid  care,  and  guilty  gain  ! 

When  morning's  twilight-tincShir'd  beam 
Strikes  their  low  thatch  with  flaming  gleam, 
They  rove  abroad  in  ether  blue, 
To  dip  the  fcythe  in  fragrant  dew  : 
The  ftieaf  to  bind,  the  beech  to  fell 
That  nodding  {hades  a  craggy  dell. 

Midft  gloomy  glades,  in  warbles  clear, 
>V,ild  nature's  fweeteft  notes  they  hear'; 


On  green  untrodden  banks  they  view 
The  hyacinth's  neglecled  hue  : 
In  their  lone  haunts,  and  woodland  younit, 
They  fpy  the  fquirrel's  airy  bounds  : 
And  ftartle  from  her  afben  fpray, 
Acrofs  the  glen,  the  fcreaming  jay : 
Each  native  charm  their  fteps  explore 
Of  folitude's  fequefler'd  ftore. 

For  them  the  moon  with  cloudlefs  ray 
Mounts,  to  illume  their  homeward  way: 
Their  weary  fpirits  to  relieve, 
The  meadows  incenfe  breathe  at  eve. 
No  riot  mars  the  fimple  fare 
That  o'er  a  glimmering  hearth  they  fharc: 
But  when  the  curfeu's  meafur'd  roar 
Duly,  the  darkening  vallies  o'er, 
Has  echoed  from  the  diilant  town, 
They  wifli  no  beds  of  cygnet-dewn, 
No  trophied  canopies,  to  clofe 
Their  drooping- eyes  in  quick  repofe. 

Their  little  Ions,  who  fpread  the  bloom 
Of  health  around  the  clay-built  room, 
Or  through  the  primros'd  coppice  fhay, 
Or  gambol  in  the  new-mown  hay ; 
Or  quaintly  braid  the  cowflip-twine, 
Or  drive  afield  the  tardy  kine; 
Or  hafteri  from  the  fuitry  hill 
To  loiter  at  the  fhady  rill; 
Or  climb  the  tall  pine's  gloomy  creft 
To  robe  the  raven's  ancient  neft. 

Their  humble  porch  with  honied  flowerj 
The  curling  woodbine's  {hade  embowers : 
From  the  imall  garden's  thymy  mound 
Their  bees  in  bufy  fwarms  refound : 
Nor  fell  difeafe,  before  his  time, 
Haftes  to  confume  life's  golden  prime  : 
But  when  their  temples  long  have  wore 
The  Clver  crown  of  trefles  hoar ; 
As  ftudious  ftill  calm  peace  to  keep, 
Beneath  a  flowery  turf  they  fleepc 


THE   WORKS 
ODE  III. 

\VRITTENATVALE-EOYAL  ABBEY, IN  CHESHIRE  *. 

As  evening  flowly  fpreads  his  mantle  hoar, 
No  ruder  founds  the  bounded  valley  fill, 
Than  the  faint  din,  from  yonder  fedgy  fhore, 
Of  rufhing  waters,  and  the  murmuring  mill. 

How  funk   the   fcene,    where  cloifter'd  leifure 

mus'd ! 

Where  war-worn  Edward  paid  his  aweful  vow  ; 
And,  lavifh  of  magnificence,  diffus'd  [brow  ! 

His  crowded    fpires    o'er   the  broad  mountain's 

The  golden  fans,  that  o'er  the  turrets  ftrown, 
Quick-glancing  to  the  fun,  wild  mufic  made; 
Are  reft,  and  every  battlement  o'ergrown 
With  knotted  thorns,  and  the  tall  fapling's  fhade. 

The  prickly  thiftle  fheds  it's  plumy  creft, 
And  matted  nettles  fhade  the  crumbling  mafs, 
Where  fhone  the  pavement's  furface  fmooth,  im- 

preft 
With  rich  reflection  of  the  ftoried  glafs. 

Here  hardy  chieftans  flept  in  proud  repofe, 
Sublimely  fhrin'd  in  gorgeous  imagery ; 
And  through  the  leflening  aifles,  in  radiant  rows, 
Their  confecrated  banners  hung  on  high. 

There  oxen  browze,  and  there  the  fable  yew 
Through  the  dun  void  difplays  its  baleful  glooms ; 
And  fheds  in  lingering  drops  ungenial  dew, 
O'er  the  forgotten  graves,  and  fcatter'd  tombs. 

By  the  flow  clock,  in  ftatcly-meafur'd  chime, 
That  from  the  ma  fly  tower  tremendous  toll'd, 
Uo  more  the  ploughman  counts  the  tedious  time, 
Nor  diftant  fhepherd  pens  his  twilight  fold. 

High  o'er  the  tracklefs  heath  at  midnight  fcen, 
>Io  more  the  windows,  rang'd  in  long  array, 
(Where  the  tall  fhaft  and  fretted  nook  between 
Thick  ivy  twines)  the  taper'd  rites  betray. 


now,  amid  the  wavering  ivy-wreaths, 
(While  kindred  thoughts  the  penfive  founds  in- 

fpire) 

When  the  weak  breeze  in  many  a  whifper  breathes, 
I  feem  to  liften  to  the  chanting  quire. 

As  o'er  thefe  fhatter'd  towers  intent  we  mufe, 
Though  rear'd  by  charity's  capricious  zeal, 
Yet  can  our  breads  foft  pity's  figh  refufe, 
Or  confcious  candour's  modcft  plea  conceal  ? 

For  though  the  forcerefs,  fuperftition  blind, 
Amid  the  pomp  of  dreadful  facrificc, 
O'er  the  dim  roofs,  to  cheat  the  tranced  mind, 
Oft  bade  her  vifionary-gleams  arife  : 

Though  the  vain  hours  unfocial  floth  beguil'd, 
While  the  flill  cloifter's  gate  oblivion  lock'd  ; 
And  through  the  chambers  pale,  to  flumbers  mild 
"Wan  indolence  her  drowiy  cradle  rock'd : 

Yet  hence,  enthron'd  in  venerable  flate, 
Proud  hofpitaiity  difpens'd  her  {lore : 

*  Founded  by  King  Edivard  the  fit'/},  about  the 
year  1 300,  in  confequence  of  a  vciv  ivbich  he  made  ivbtn 
H  danger  of  being  JLif-u:re(ktdt  curing  Us  reivri'  fnm 
a  crufadi. 


OF   WAR  TON. 

Ah,  ker  beneath  yon  tower's  tin  vaulted  gatct 
Forlorn  fhe  fits  upon  the  brambled  floor! 

Her  ponderous  vafe,  with  Gothic  portraiture 
Embofs'd,  no  more  with  balmy  moifture  flows; 
Mid  the  mix'd  fhards  o'erwhelm'd  in  duft  obfcuret 
No  more,  as  erfl,  the  golden  goblet  glows. 

Sore  .beat  by  ftorms  in  glory's  arduous  way, 
Here  might  ambition  mufe,  a  pilgrim  fage : 
Here  raptur'd  fee,  religion's  evening  ray 
Gild  the  calm  walks  or'  his  repofing  age. 

Here  ancient  art  her  dedal  fancies  play'd 
In  the  quaint  mazes  of  the  crifped  roof; 
In  mellow  glooms  the  fpeaking  pane  array'd, 
And  rang'd  the  cluftcr'd  column,  marly-proof. 

Here  learning,  guarded  from  a  barbarous  age, 
Hover'd  awhile,  nor  dar'd  attempt  the  day ; 
But  patient  trac'd  upon  the  piclur'd  page 
The  holy  legend,  or  heroic  lay. 

Hither  the  folitary  minftrel  came 
An  honour'd  gueft,  while  the  grim  evening  flcy 
Hung  lowering,  and  around  the  focial  flame 
Tun'd  his  bold  harp  to  tales  of  chivalry. 

Thus  fings  the  mufe,  all  penfive  and  alone  ; 
Nor  fcorns,  within  the  deep  fane's  inmoft  cell, 
To  pluck  the  gray  mofs  from  the  mantled  ftone, 
Some  holy  founder's  mouldering  name  to  fpell. 

Thus  fings  the  mufe: — yet  partial  as  fhe  fings, 
With  fond  regret  Turveys  thefe  ruin'd  piles  : 
And  with  fair  images  of  ancient  things 
The  captive  bard's  obfequious  mind  beguiles. 

But  much  we  pardon  to  th'  ingenuous  mufej 
Her  fairy  fhapes  are  trick'd  by  fancy's  pen: 
Severer  reafon  forms  far  other  views, 
And  fcans  the  fcene  with  philofophic  ken. 

From  thefe  defcrted  domes,  new  glories  rife ; 
More  ufeful  inftitutes,  adorning  man, 
Manners  enlarg'd,  and  new  civilities, 
On  freih  foundations  build  the  focial  plan. 

Science,  on  ampler  plume,  a  bolder  flight 
Eflays,  efcap'd  from  fuperftition's  fhrine:     . 
While  freed  religion,  like  primeval  light 
Burfting  from  chaos,  fpreads  her  warmth  divine. 

ODE  IV. 

THE    FIRST    OF    APRIL. 

WIT  H  dalliance  rude  young  zephyr  woos 
Coy  May.     Full  oft  with  kind  excufc 
The  boifierous  boy  the  fair  denies, 
Or,  with  a  fcornful  fmile  complies. 

Mindful  of  difafter  paft, 
And  fhrinking  at  the  northern  blaft, 
The  ilecty  ftorm  returning  ftill, 
The  morning  hoar,  and  evening  chill ; 
Reluctant  comes  the  timid  Spring. 
Scarce  a  bee,  with  airy  ring, 
Murmurs  the  bloflbm'd  boughs  around, 
That  clothe  the  garden's  fouthern  boundf: 
Scarce  a  fickly  (haggling  flower  * 

Decks  the  rough  cuille's  rifted  tower : 


ODES. 


1063 


Scarce  the  hardy  primrofo  peeps 

From  the  dark  dell's  entangled  deeps : 

O'er  the  field  of  waving  broom, 

Slowly  ihoots  the  golden  hloom : 

And,  but  by  fits,  the  furze-clad  dale 

Tinctures  the  tranfitory  gale. 

While  from  the  fhrubbery's  naked  maze, 

Where  the  vegetable  blaze 

Of  Flora's  brighteft  'broidery  fhonc, 

Every  chequer'd  charm  is  flown ; 

Save  that  the  lilac  hangs  to  view 

Its  burding  gems  in  clufters  blue. 

Scant  along  the  ridgy  land 
The  beans  their  new-born  ranks  expand : 
The  frefh-turn'd  foil  with  tender  blades 
Thinly  the  fprouting  barley  fhades ; 
Fringing  the  foreft's  devious  edge. 
Half  rob'd  appears  the  hawthorn  hedge; 
Or  to  the  diftant  eye  difplays 
Weakly  green  its  budding  fprays. 

The  fwallow,  for  a  moment  feen, 
Skims  in  hade  the  village  green  : 
From  the  gray  moor,  on  feeble  wing, 
The  fcreaming  plovers  idly  fpring  : 
The  butterfly,  gay-painted  foon, 
Explores  awhile  the  tepid  noon  ; 
And  fondly  truds  its  tender  dyes 
To  fickle  funs,  and  flattering  ikies. 

Fraught  with  a  tranfient,  frozen  fhower, 
If  a  cloud  (hould  haply  lower, 
Sailing  o'er  the  landfcape  dark, 
Mute  on  a  fudden  is  the  lark  ; 
But  when  gleams  the  fun  again 
O'er  the  pearl-befprinkled  plain, 
And  from  behind  his  watery  vail 
Looks  through  the  thin-def-ending  hail ; 
She  mouuts,  and  lefiening  to  the  fight, 
Salutes  the  blithe  return  of  light, 
And  high  her  tuneful  track  purfues 
Mid  the  dim  rainbow's  fcatter'd  hues. 

Where  in  venerable  rows 
Widely  waving  toaks  enclofe 
The  moat  of  yonder  antique  hall, 
Swarm  the  rooks  with  clamorous  call ; 
And  to  the  toils  of  nature  true, 
Wreath  their  capacious  nefts  anew. 

Mufing  through  the  lawny  paik, 
The  lonely  poet  loves  to  mark, 
How  various  greens  in  faint  degrees 
Tinge  the  tall  groupes  of  various  trees; 
While,  carelefs  of  the  changing  year, 
The  pine  cerulean,  never  fear, 
Towers  diftinguifli'd  from  the  reft, 
And  proudly  vaunts  her  winter  ved. 

Within  fome  whifpering  ofier  ifle, 
Where  Glym's  low  banks  neglected  anile ; 
And  each  trim  meadow  ftill  retains 
The  wint'ry  torrent's  oozy  ftains: 
Beneath  a  willow,  long  forfook, 
The  fiflier  feeks  his  cuftom'd  nook ; 
And  burfting  through  the  crackling  fedge 
That  crowns  the  current's  caveru'd  edge, 
He  ftartles  from  the  bordering  wood 
The  bafliful  wild-duck's  early  brood. 


O'er  the  broad  downs,  a  novel  race, 
Frifk  the  lambs  with  faultering  pace,  . 

And  with  eager  bleatings  fil1 
The  fofs  that  fldrts  the  oeacon'd  hill. 

His  free-born  vigour  yet  unhroke 
To  lordly  man's  ufurping  yoke, 
The  bounding  colt  forgets  to  play, 
Bafkhig  beneath  the  noontide  ray, 
And  Itretch'd  amon;;  tho  daifies  pide 
Of  a  green  dingle's  Hoping  tide : 
While  far  beneath,  where  nature  fpreads 
Her  boundlefs  length  of  level  meads, 
In  loofe  luxuriance  taught  to  ftray 
A  thoufund  tumbling  rills  inlay 
With  filver  veins  the  vale,  or  pafs 
Redundant  through  the  fparkling  grafs. 

Yet,  in  thcfe  prefages  rr.de, 
Midd  her  pcnfive  folitudc, 
Fancy,  with  prophetic  glance, 
Sees  the  teeming  months  advance ; 
The  field,  the  foreft,  green  and  gay, 
The  dappled  flope,  the  tedded  hay;  * 
Sees  the  reddening  orchard  blow, 
The  harveft  wave,  the  vintage  flow  : 
Sees  June  unfold  his  glofly  robe 
Of  thoufand  hues  o'er  all  the  globe : 
Sees  Ceres  grafp  her  crown  of  corn, 
And  plenty  load  her  ample  horn. 

ODE  V. 

SENT    TO    MR.  UPTON,  ON  HIS  EDITION  Of    TH» 
FAERIE    OJUEIN. 

As  oft  reclin'd  on  Cherwell's  (helving  more, 
I  trac'd  romantic  Spenfer's  moral  page ; 
And  footh'd  my  forrows  with  the  dulcet  lore 
Which  fancy  fabled  in  her  elfin  age : 

Much  would  I  grieve,  that  envious  time  fo  foon 
O'er  the  lov'd  drain  had  caft  his  dim  difguife ; 
As  lowering  clouds,  in  April's  brighted  noon, 
Mar  the  pure  fplendours  of  the  purple  ikies. 

Sage  Upton  came,  from  every  myftic  talc 
To  chafe  the  gloom  that  hung  o'er  Fairy  ground  : 
His  wizard  hand  unlocks  each  guarded  vale, 
And  opes  each  flowery  foreirs*i&agic  bound. 

Thus,  neTer  knight  with  mortal  arms  eflay'd 
The  cadle  of  proud  Bufyrane  to  quell ; 
Till  Britomart  her  beamy  ftueld  difplay'd, 
And  broke  with  golden  fpear  the  mighty  fpell: 

The  dauntlefs  maid  with  hardy  dep  esplor'd 
Each  room,  array'd  in  glidering  imagery  ; 
And  through  th'  inchanted  chamber,  richly  ftor'd, 
Saw  Cupid's  dately  maik  come  fweeping  by*. — 

At  this,  where'er,  in  didant  region  ftieen, 

She  roves,  embowcr'd  with  many  a  fpangled  bough, 

Mild  Una,  lifting  her  majcftic  mien, 

Braids  with  a  brighter  wreath  her  radiant  brow. 

At  this,  in  hopelefs  forrow  dropping  long, 
Her  painted  wings  imagination  plumes ; 
Plcas'd  that  her  laureate  votary's  refcuedfong 
Its  native  charm,  and  genuine  grace,  relumes, 

*  Set  Fairy  tauten,  ill.  2.  J. 


fHE   WORKS   OF   WARTON. 


ODE  VI. 

THZ    SUICIDE. 

BENZATM  the  beech,  whofe  branchei  bare 
Smit  with  the  lightning's  livid  glare, 

O'ethang  the  craggy  road, 
And  whiftfe  hollow  as  they  wave  ; 
Within  a  folitary  grave, 
A  flayer  of  himfelf*  holds  hisaccurs'd  abode. 

Lour'd  the  grim  morn,  in  murky  dyes 
Damp  mifts  involv'd  the  fcowling  fkies, 

And  dimm'd  the  ftruggling  day; 
JLs  by  the  brook  that  lingering  laves 
Yon  rufh-grovyn  moor  with  fable  waves, 
lEull  of  the  dark  refolve  he  took  his  fullcn  way. 

Lmark'd  his  defultory  pace, 

His  geflures  ftrange,  and  varying  face, 

With  many  a  mutter'd  found  ; 
And  ah !  too  late  aghafl  I  view'd 
The  reeking  blade,  the  hand  embru'd : 
He  fell,  and  groaning  grafp'd  in  agony  the  ground. 

Full  many  a  melancholy  night 

He  watch'd  the  flow  return  of  light; 

And  fought  the  powers  of  fleep, 
To  fpread  a  momentary  calm 
O'er  his  fad  couch,  and  in  the  balm 
Of  bland  oblivion's  dews  his  burning  eyes  to  fleep. 

Full  oft,  unknowing  and  unknown, 
He  wore  his  endlefs  noons  alone, 

Amid  th'  autumnal  wood  : 
Oft  was  he  wont,  in  hafty  fit. 
Abrupt  the  focial  board  to  quit, 
And  gaze  with  eager  glance  upon  the  tumbling 
flood. 

Beck'ning  the  wretch  to  torments  new, 
Defpair,  for  ever  in  his  view, 

A  fpe&re  pale,  appear'd ; 
While,  as  the  fhades  of  eve  arofe 
And  brought  the  day's  unxvelcome  clofe, 
More  horrible  and  huge  her  gaint-fhape  fhe  rear'd. 

"  Is  this,  miftaken  fcorn  will  cry, 

"  Is  this  the  youth,  whofe  genius  high 

""  Could  build  the  genuine  rhyme  ? 
"  Whofe  bofom  mild  the  favouring  mufe 
"  Had  flor'd  with  all  her  ample  views, 
""  Parent  of  faireft  deeds,  and  purpofes  fublime." 

Ah !  from  the  mufe  that  bofom  mild 
By  treacherous  magic  was  beguil'd, 

To  ftrike  the  deathful  blow : 
She  fill'd  his  foft  ingenuous  mind 
With  many  a  feeling  too  refin'd, 
And  rous'd  to  livelier  pangs  his  wakeful  fenfe  of 
woe. 

Though  doom'd  hard  penury  to  prove, 
And  the  ftarp  flings  of  hopelefs  love  ; 

To  griefs  congenial  prone, 
More  wounds  than  nature  gave  he  knew, 
While  mifery's  form  his  fancy  drew 
In  dark  ideal  hues,  and  horrors  not  its  own. 

*  «  fie  Slayer  of  bfrn^if,"  h  «ftd  by  Drjdcnfar  a 


Then  wifh  not  o'er  his  earthy  tomb 
The  baleful  night-fhade's  lurid  bloom 

To  drop  its  deadly  dew  : 
Nor  oh  !  forbid  the  twifted  thorn, 
That  rudely  binds  his  turf  forlorn, 
With  fpring's  green -fwelling  buds  to  vegetate' 
anew. 

What  though  no  marble-piled  buft 
Adorn  his  defolated  duft, 

With  fpeaking  fculpture  wrought  ? 
Pity  fhall  woo  the  weeping  nine, 
To  build  a  vifionary  fhrine, 
Hung  with  unfading  flowers,  from  fairy  regions 
brought. 

What  though  refus'd  each  chanted  rite  ? 
Here  viewlefs  mourners  fhall  delight 

To  touch  the  fhadowy  fhell : 
And  Petrarch's  harp,  that  wept  the  doom 
Of  Laura,  loft  in  early  bloom, 
In  many  a  peufive  paufe  fhall  feem  to  rine  hi* 
knell. 

To  footh  a  lone,  unhallow'd  fhade, 
This  votive  dirge  fad  duty  paid, 

Within  an  ivied  nook : 
Sudden  the  half-funk  orb  of  day 
More  radiant  fliot  its  parting  ray, 
And  thus  a  cherub-voice  my  charm'd  attention 
took. 

"  Forbear,  fond  bard,  thy  partial  praife ; 
"  Nor  thus  for  guilt  in  fpecious  lays 

"  The  wreath  of  glory  twine : 
"  In  vain  with  hues  of  gorgeous  glow 
"  Gay  fancy  gives  her  vefl  te  flow, 
"  Unlcfs  truth's  matron-hand  the  floating  fold* 
"  confine. 

"  Juft  Heaven,  man's  fortitude  to  prove, 
"  Permits  through  life  at  large  to  rove 

"  The  tribes  of  hell-born  woe : 
"  Yet  the  fame  power  that  wifely  fends 
"  Life's  fierceft  ills,  indulgent  lends 
"  Religion's  golden   fhield  to  break  th'  embat- 
"  tied  foe. 

"  Her  aid  divine  had  lull'd  to  reft 

"  Yon  foul  felf-murderer's  throbbing  breaft, 

"  And  ftay'd  the  r ifing  florin : 
"  Had  bade  the  fun  of  hope  appear 
"  To  gild  his  darken'd  hemifphere, 
"  And  give  the  wonted  bloom  to  nature's  blaflel 
"  fonrt 

"  Vain  man!  'tis  Heavsn's  prerogative 
"  To  take,  what  firft  it  deign'd  to  give, 

"  Thy  tributary  breath : 
"  In  awful  expe<ftion  plac'd. 
"  Await  thy  doom,  nor  impious  hade 
"  To  pluck  from  God's  right  hand  his  inftru- 
"  ments  of  death." 

ODE  VII. 

SENT    TO    A    FRIEND,    ON     HIS    LEAVING    A    FA? 
VUURITE    VILLAGE    IN    HAMPSHIRE. 

An  mourn,  thou  lov'd  retreat !  no  mor« 
Shall  claflic  fteps  thy  fecncs  explore^ 


0    D    E    6. 


When  morn's  pale  rays  but  faintly  peep 
O'er  yonder  ouk-crown'd  airy  fleep, 
Who  now  (hall  climb  its  brows  to  view 
The  length  of  landf.iape,  ever  new, 
Where  Summer  flings,  in  carclefs  pride, 
Her  varied  vefture  far  and  wide  ! 
Who  mark,  beneath,  each  village  •charm, 
Or  grange,  or  elm-encircled  farm  : 
The  flinty  dove-cote's  crowded  roof, 
Watch' (1  by  the  kite  that  i'ails  aloof: 
The  tufted  pines,  whol.   umbrage  tall 
Darkens  the  long-deferteH  ball : 
The  veteran  beech,  that  on  the  plain 
Collects  at  eve  the  playful  train  ; 
The  cot  that  fmokes  with  early  fire, 
The  low-roof 'd  fane's  embofom'd  fpire ! 

Who  now  fiiall  indolently  ft  ray 
Through  the  deep  forefl's  tangled  way ; 
Pleas'd  at  his  cufrom'd  taflc  to  find 
The  well  known  hoary-trtffed  hind, 
That  toils  with  feeble  hands  to  gltan 
Of  wither'd  boughs  his  pittance  mean!" 
Who  mid  thy  nooks  of  hazle  fit, 
JLoft  in  fome  melancholy  fit ; 
And  liflening  to  the  raven's  croak, 
The  diftant  flaU,  the  falling  oak! 
Who,  through  the  funfhine  and  the  fhower, 
fiefcry  the  rainbow-painted  tower  ? 
Who,  wandering  at  return  of  May, 
Catch  the  firft  cuckoo's  vernal  lay  ? 
Wrho,  mufing  waiie  the  fummer  hour, 
Where  high  o'er-arching  trees  embow'r 
The  grafiy  lane,  i'o  rarely  pac'd, 
With  azure  flowrets  idly  grac'd  ! 
"Bnnotic'd  now,  at  twilight's  dawn     - 
Returning  reapers  crofs  the  lawn ; 
Nor  fond  attention  loves  to  note 
The  weather's  bell  from  fold?  remote  : 
While,  own'd  by  no  poetic  eye, 
Thy  penfive  evenings  fhade  the  iky ! 

For  lo !  the  bard  who  rapture  found 
In  every  rural  fight  or  found ; 
Whofe  genius  warm,  and  judgment  chaftf, 
No  charm  of  genuine  nature  pait; 
Who  felt  the  mufe's  pureft  fires, 
Far  from  thy  favour'd  haunt  retires : 
Who  peopled  all  thy  vocal  bowers 
With  fhadowy  fhapes,  and  airy  powers. 

Behold,  a  dread  repofe  relumes, 
As  erft,  thy  fad  fequefter'd  glooms  ! 
From  the  deep  dell,  where  fhaggy  roots 
Fringe  the  rough  brink  with  wreathed  (hoots, 
Th'  unwilling  genius  flies  forlorn, 
His  primrofe  chaplet  rudely  torn. 
With  hollow  ihriek  the  nymphs  forfake 
The  pathltfs  copfe.  and  hedge-row  brake  : 
Where  the  delv'd  mountains's  headlong  fide 
Its  chalky  entrails  opens  wide, 
On  the  green  fummit,  ambufli'd  high, 
No  longer  echo  loves  to  lie. 
No  pearl-crown 'cl  maids,  with  wily  look, 
Rife  beckoning  from  the  reedy  brook. 
Around  the  glowworm's  glimmering  bankj 
No  fairies  run  in  fiery  rank  ; 
Nor  brufhi  half-feen,  in  airy  tread) 
The  violet's  nnprinted  head* 


But  fancy,  from  the  thickets  brown, 
The  glades  that  wear  a  confcious  frown, 
The  foreft-oaks,  that  pale  and  lone, 
Nod  to  the  blail  with  hoarfer  tone, 
Rough  gkns,  and  fullen  waterfalls, 
Her  bright  ideal  offspring  calls. 

So  by  fome  fage  inchanter's  fpell, 
(As  old  Arabian  fablers  tell) 
Amid  the  folitary  wild, 
Luxuriant  gardens  gaily  fmil'd : 
From  fapphire  rocks  the  fountains  flream'if, 
With  golden  fruit  the  branches  beam'd; 
Fair  forms,  in  every  wonderous  wood, 
Or  lightly  tripp'd,  or  folemn  flood; 
And  oft,  retreating  from  the  view, 
Betray'd,  at  diftance,  beauties  new  : 
While  gleaming  o'er  the  crifped  bovyers 
Rich  fpires  arofe,  and  fparkling  towers. 
Jf  boi;nd  on  fervice  new  to  go, 
T'lie  matter  of  the  magic  (how, 
His  tranfitory  charm  withdrew, 
Away  th'  illufi  ve  landfcape  fl&w  : 
Dun  clouds  obfcur'd  the  groves  of  gold, 
Blue  lightning  (mote  the  blooming  mold; 
In  vifionary  giory  rear'd, 
The  gorgeous  caftle  difappear'd : 
And  a  bare  heath's  unfruitful  plain 
Ufurp'd  the  wizard's  proud  domain. 


ODE  VIII. 

THE    COMPLAINT    OF    CHERWELL  *. 

ALL  penfive  from  her  ofier-woven  bow'r 
Cherwell  arofe.     Around  her  darkening  edge 
Pale  eve  began  the  (learning  mift  to  pour, 
And  breezes  fann'd  by  fits  the  ruftling  fedge; 
She  rofe,  and  thus  fhe  cried  in  deep  defpair, 
And  tore  the  ruftiy  wreath  that  bound  her  flream- 
ing  hair. 

Ah!  why,  (he  cried,  fhould  Ifis  fharc  alone, 
'{'he  tributary  gifts  of  tuneful  fame  ! 
Shall  every  long  her  happier  influence  own, 
And  ft  amp  with  partial   praife  her  favourite 

name  ? 

While  I,  alike  to  thofe  proud  domes  allied, 
Nor  hear  the  mufe's  call,  nor  boafl  a  clafllc  tide. 

No  chofen  forv  of  all  yon  fabling  band 

Bids  my  loofe  locks  their  glofly  length  diffufle; 

Nor  fees  my  coral-cin<Stur  d  ftole  expand 

Its  folds,   befprent  with  Spring's  unnumber'd 

hues: 

No  poet  builds  my  grotto's  dripping  cell, 
Nor  ftuds  my  cryllai  throne  with  many  a  fpeck« 

led  fhell. 

In  Ifis'  vafe  if  fancy's  eye  difcern 
Majeftic  towers  embofs'd  in  Iculpture  highj 
l,o !  milder  glories  mark  my  modeil  urn, 
The  fimple  fcenes  of  paftoral  imagery : 
What  though  fhe  pa.ce  fuhlime,  a  itately  queen  ? 
Mini  is  the    gentk  grace,    the   meek   retiring 
mien. 

*  One  'f  tlit  riven  at  Oxford. 


THE   WORKS   OF   WARTON. 


Proud  nymph,  iincc  late  the  mufe  thy  triumphs 

fuug, 

No  more  with  mine  thy  fcornful  Naiads  play, 
(While  Cynthia's  lamp  o'er  the  broad  vale  is 

hung), 

Where  meet  our  flreams,  indulging  fliort  delay  : 

Nomore, thy  crown  to  braid,thoudeign'ft  to  take 

My  crefs-born  flowers  that  float  in  many  a  fhady 

lake. 

Vain  bards  !  can  Ifis  win  the  raptur'd  f«ul, 
"Where  art  eaqh  wilder  watery  charm  invades  ? 
Whofe  waves,in  meafur'd  volumes  taught  to  roll, 
Or  fta<mant  fleep,  or  rufh  in  white  caitades : 
Whofe°banks  with  echoing  induftry  refound, 
Tenc'd  by  the  foam-beat  pier,  and  torrent-braving 

mound. 

Lo !  here  no  commerce  fpreads  the  fervent  toil, 
To  pour  pollution  o'er  my  virgin  tide ; 
The  frefhnefs  of  my  paflures  to  defile, 
Or  bruife  the  matted  groves  that  fringe  my  fide : 
But  folitude,  on  this  fequefter'd  bank, 
Mid  the  moift  lilies  fits,  attir'd  in  mantle  dank. 

No  ruder  founds  my  grazing  herds  affright, 
Nor  mar  the  milk-maid's  folitary  fong: 
The  jealous  halcyon  wheels  her  hutuble  flight, 
And  hides  her  emerald  wing  my  reeds  among  ; 
All  unalarm'd,  fave  when  the  genial  May 
Bids  wake  my  peopled  fliores,  and  rears  the  ri- 
pen'd  hay. 

Then  fcorn  no  more  this  unfrequented  fcene ; 
So  to  new  notes  fhall  my  coy  echo  firing 
Her  lonely  harp.     Hither  the  brow  ferene, 
And  the  flow  pace  of  contemplation  bring :      . 
Nor  call  in  vain  infpiring  ecftafy 
To  bid  her  vifions  meet  the  frenzy-rolling  eye. 

Whate'er  the  theme  :  if  unrequited  love 
Seek,  all  unfeen,  his  bafliful  griefs  to  breathe  ; 
Or  fame  to  bolder  flights  the  hofom  move, 
Waving  aloft  the  glorious  epic  wreath  ; 
Here  hail. the  mufes :   from  the  bufy  throng 
Remote,  where  fancy  dwells,  and  nature  prompts 
the  fong. 

ODE  IX. 

THE    CRUSADE. 

AJverliftment. 

KING  RICHARD  the  firft,  celebrated  for  his  a- 
chievements  in  the  crufades,  was  no  lefs  diftin- 
guifhed  for  his  patronage  of  the  provencial  min- 
ilrels,  and  his  own  compofitions  in  their  fpecies  of 
poetry.  Returning  from  one  of  his  expeditions  in 
the  holy  land,  in  difguife,  he  was  imprifoned  in  a 
caftle  of  Leopold  duke  of  Auftria.  His  favourite 
ininftrel,  Blondel  de  Nefle,  having  traverfed  all 
Germany,  in  fearch  of  his  mailer,  at  length  came 
to  a  caftle  in  which  he  found  there  was  only  one 
prifoner,  and  whofe  name  was  unknown.  Suf- 
pccfting  that  he  had  made  the  defired  difcovery, 
he  leated  himfelf  under  a  window  of  the  prifoner's 
apartment ;  and  began  a  fong  or  ode,  which  the 
king  and  himfelf  had  formerly  compofed  together. 
When  the  prifoner,  who  was  King  Richard,  heard 
the  long,  he  knew  that  Blondel  rnuft  be  the  finger: 


and  when  Blondel  paufed  auout  the  middle,  th« 
king  began  the  remainder,  and  completed  it.  The 
following  ode  is  fuppofed  to  be  this  joint  compo- 
fition  of  the  minflrel  and  King  Richard. 

BOUND  for  holy  Paleftine, 
Nimbly  we  brufh'd  the  level  brine, 
All  in  azure  fleel  array'd ; 
O'er  the  wave  our  weapons  play'd, 
And  made  the  dancing  billows  glow  ; 
High  upon  the  trophied  prow, 
Many  a  warrior-minftrel  fwung 
His  founding  harp,  and  boldly  lung : 

"  Syrian  virgins,  Avail  and  weep, 
"  Englifli  Richard  ploughs  the  deep ! 
"  Tremble,  watchmen,  as  ye  fpy, 
"  From  diflant  towers,  with  anxious  eye, 
"  The  radiant  range  of  faield  and  lance 
"  Down  Damafcus'  hills  advance : 
"  From  Sion's  turrets,  as  afar 
"  Ye  ken  the  march  of  Europe's  war  ! 
"  Salao'in,  thou  paynim  king, 
"  From  Albion's  ifle  revenge  we  bring  ! 
"  On  Aeon's  *  fpiry  citadel, 
"  Though  to  the  gale  thy  banners  fwell, 
"  Pictur'd  with  the  filver  moon  ; 
"  England  fhall  end  thy  glory  foon  ! 
<c  In  vain,  to  break  our  firm  array, 
"  Thy  brazen  drums  hoarfc  difcord  bray ; 
"  Thofe  founds  our  rifing  fury  fan : 
"  F.nglifh  Richard  in  the  van. 
"  On  to  victory  we  go, 
"  A  vaunting  infidel  the  foe." 

Blondel  led  the  tuneful  band, 
And  fwept  the  wire  with  glowing  hand". 
Cyprus,  from  her  rocky  mound, 
And  Crete,  with  piny  verdure  crown'd, 
Far  along  the  fmiling  main 
Echoed  the  prophetic  flrain. 

Soon  we  kifs'd  the  facred  earth 
That  gave  a  murder'd  Saviour  birth : 
Then  with  ardour  frefh  endu'd, 
Thus  the  fofemn  fong  renew'd. 

"  Lo,  the  toilfome  voyage  paft, 
"  Heaven^  favour'd  hills  appear  at  lafl  f 
"  Object  of  our  holy  vow, 
"  We  tread  the  Tyrian  vallies  now. 
"  From  Carmel's  almond-fliaded  fteep 
"  We  feel  the  cheering  fragrance  creep : 
"  O'er  Engaddi's  fhrubs  of  balm 
"  Waves  the  date-empurpled  palm, 
"  See,  Lebanon's  afpiring  head 

Wide  his  immortal  umbrage  fpread! 
'  Hu.il  Calvary,  thou  mountain  hoar, 
'  Wet  with  our  Redeemer's  gore  ! 

Ye  trampled  tombs,  ye  fanes  forlorn, 

Ye  ftones,  by  tears  of  pilgrims  worn  ; 

Your  ravilh'd  honours  to  reftore, 

Fearlefs  we  climb  this  hoftile  ftiore  ! 

And  thou,  the  fepulchre  of  God! 

By  mocking  pagans  rudely  trod, 

Bereft  of  every  awful  rite, 

And  quench'd  thy  lamps  that  beam'd  fo  bright; 

For  thee,  from  Britain's  diftant  coaft, 

Lo,  Richard  leads  his  faithful  hoft! 

Aloft  in  his  heroic  hand, 

Blazing,  like  the  beacon's  brand, 

*  A  capital  Qhrijlian  city  endfortrrfs  of  Syria* 


POEM    S. 


O'er  the  far-affrighted  fields, 

Refiftlefs  Kaliburn  he  wields  *. 

Proud  Saracen,  pollute  no  more 

The  flirines  by  martyrs  built  of  yore! 

From  each  wild  mountain's  trackicfs  crown 

in  vain,  thy  gloomy  callles  frown  : 

Thy  battering  engines,  huge  and  high, 

In  vain  our  fteel-clad  ileeds  defy  ; 

And,  rolling  in  terrific  irate, 

On  giant-wheels  harfh  thunders  grate. 

When  eve  has  hufh'd  the  buzzing  camp, 

Amid  the  moon-light  vapours  damp, 

Thy  necromantic  forms,  in  vain, 

Haunt  us  on  the  tented  plain  : 

We  bid  thofefpetSre-fhapesavaunt, 

Afhtaroth,  and  Termagaunt ! 

With  many  a  demon,  pale  of  hue, 

Doom'd  to  drink  the  bitter  dew 

That  drops  from  Macon's  footy  tree, 

Mid  the  dread  grove  of  ebony. 

Nor  magic  charms,  nor  fiends  of  hell, 

The  Chriftian's  holy  courage  quell. 

"  Salem,  in  ancient  majefty 
"  Arife,  and  lift  thee  to  the  fky  ! 
"  Soon  on  thy  battlements  divine 
"  Shall  wave  the  badge  of  Conftantine. 
"  Ye  barons,  to  the  fun  unfold 
•*  Our  crofs  with  crimfon  wove  and  gold!" 

ODE  X. 

THE  GRAVE  OF  KING  ARTHUR. 

Advcrt'fement. 

KING  HENRY  the  Second  having  undertaken  an 
expedition  into  Ireland,  to  fr.pprefs  a  rebellion 
raifed  by  Roderick  Ki-ng  of  Connaught,  common 
ly  called  O  Connor  Dun,  or  the  Brown  Monarch  of 
Ireland,  was  entertained,  in  his  paflage  through 
Wales,  with  the  fongs  of  the  Welfli  bards.  The 
fubjedl  of  their  poetry  was  King  Arthur,  whofe 
hiftory  had  been  fo  difrruifod  by  fabulous  inven 
tions,  that  the  place  of  his  burial  was  in  general 
fcarcely  known  or  remembered.  But  in  one  of 
thefe  Welfh  poems  fung  before  Henry,  it  was  re 
cited,  that  King  Arthur,  after  the  battle  of  Cam- 
Ian,  in  Cornwall,  was  interred  at  Glaftonbury 
abbey,  before  the  high  alt,ar,  yet  without  any  ex 
ternal  mark  or  memorial.  Afterwards  Henry  vi- 
fited  the  abbey,  and  commanded  the  fpot  defcribed 
by  the  bard  to  be  opened  :  When  digging  near  20 
feet  deep,  they  found  the  body,  depofited  under  a 
large  ftone,  infcribed  with  Arthur's  name.  This 
is^he  ground-work  of  the  following  ode:  But  for 
the  better  accommodation  of  the  ftory  to  our  pre- 
Icnt  purpofe,  it  is  told  with  fome  flight  variations 
from  the  Chronicle  of  Glaftonbury.  The  cattle  of 
Cilgarran,  where  this  difcovery  is  fuppofed  to 
have  been  made,  now  a  romantic  ruin,  (lands  on 
a  rock  defcending  to  the  river  Teivi,  in  Pem- 
brokefhire ;  and  was  built  by  Roger  Montgomery, 
•who  led  the  van  of  the  Normans  at  Mailings. 

*  Kallburn  is  the  ficord  of  King  Arthur  .  IVbicb, 
as  the  monl'Jk  hijlorhnsfiy,  came  into  tbe  pojfeffion  of 
Richard  the  Firjl ;  and  -was  given  by  that  monarch,  in 
the  (rufatfes,  to  Tancred  King  of  S icily ,  at  a  royal 
frefent  of  incjlimable  £ricet  about  the  year  1 190.  See 
tie  following  Qde. 

VOL.  XI. 


STATELY  the  fcaft,  and  high  the  cheer : 
Girt  with  many  an  armed  peer, 
And  canopied  with  golden  pail, 
Amid  Cilgarran's  caftle  haii, 
Sublime  in  formidable  ftato, 

like  fplcndour,  Henry  fate  j 
Prcj'ar'd  to  iiain  the  briny  flood 
Oi  hhannon's  lakes  with  rebel  blood. 

Illumining  the  vaulted  roof, 
A  thoufand  torches  flatn'd  aloof: 
From  mully  cups,  with  golden  gleam, 
Sparkled  the  red  metheglin's  lliv 
To  grace  the  gorgeous  feluval, 
Along  the  lohy-window'd  hall, 
The  uoried  t  <peftry  was  }u:n<;  : 
With  minflreify  the  rafters  rung 
Of  harps,  that  with  reflected  light 
From  the  proud  gallery  glitter'd  blight : 
White  gifted  bards,  a  rival  throng, 
(From  diftant  Mora,  nurfe  of  fong, 
From  Teivi,  fring'd  with  umbrage  brown, 
From  Eivy's  vale,  and  Cader's  crown, 
From  many  a  fhaggy  precipice 
That  {hades  lerne's  hoarfe  abyfs, 
And  many  a  lunitfs  folitude 
Of  Radnor's  inmolt  mountains  ruds,} 
To  crown  the  banquet's  fbiemu  ciole, 
Tlicmes  of  Britilh  glory  chofe  ; 
And  to  the  firings  of  various  chime 
Artemper'd  thus  the  fabling  rhymer 

"  O'er  Cornwall's  cliffs  the  temped  roar'd, 
"f  High  the  fcreaming  iea-mewfoar'd; 
"  On  'J'intaggel's  *  tonmoft  tower 

Darkfome  ie\l  the  fleety  fhcwer ; 

Round  the  rough  caftle  ihrilly  fung 

The  whirling  blaft,  and  wildly  flung 

On  each  tali  rampart's  thundering  fide 

The  furgijs  of  the  tumbling  tide  : 

When  Arthur  rang'd  his  red-crof,  ranks. 

On  confcious  Camlan's  crimfon'd  banks: 

By  Mordred's  faithlefs  guile  decreed 

Beneath  a  Saxon  fpear  to  bleed! 

Yet  in  vain  a  paynim  foe 

Arm'd  with  fate  the  mighty  blow ; 

For  when  he  fell,  an  elfin  queen, 

All  in  fecret,  and  unfeen, 

O'er  the  farming  hero  threw  _ 

Her  mantle  of  amfarofial  blue ; 

And  bade  her  fpirits  'near  him  far, 

In  Merlin's  agate-axled  car, 

To  her  green  ifle's  enamcl'd  fteep, 

Far  in  the  navel  of  the  deep. 

O'er  his  \vounds  (he  fprinkled  dew 

From  flowers  that  in  Arabia  grew: 

On  a  rich  enchanted  bed, 

She  pillow'd  his  majeftic  head ; 

O'er  his  brow,  with  whifpers  bland, 

Thrice  flic  wav'd  an  opiate  wand; 

And  to  foft  mufic's  airy  found, 

Her  magic  curtains  clos'd  around. 
'  There,  renew'd  the  vital  fpring, 
"  Again  he  reigns  a  mighty  king ; 

*  Tfntaggcl,  or  Tintadgel  caftle,  "where  King  Ar~ 
tbur  Is  f  aid  to  have  teen  born,  and  to  have  chiefly  refided* 
Some  of  its  huge  fragments  JIM remr.it.  on  a  rocky  penin- 
fular  cape,  of  a  prodigious  decliv  ty  towards  the  fea, 
and  almofl  inaccejjfiblt from  the  land  itde,  on  tbefoutbern 
coafli  of  Cornwall, 

3Y 


1074  THE   WORKS 

"  And  many  a  fair  and  fragrant  clime, 

"  Blooming  in  immortal  prime, 

"  By  gales  of  Eden  ever  fann'd, 

"  Owns  the  monarch's  high  command: 

"  Thence  to  Britain  {hall  return, 

««  (If  right  prophetic  rolls  I  learn) 

"  Borne  on  victory's  fpreading  plume, 

"  His  ancient  fceptre  to  refume  ; 

"  Once  more,  in  old  heroic  pride, 

"  His  barbed  courfer  to  beftride  ; 

«  His  knightly  table  to  reftore, 

"  And  the  brave  tournaments  of  yore." 

They  ceas'd  :  when  on  the  tuneful  flage 
Advanc'd  a  bard,  of  afpecT:  fage  ; 
His  Clver  trefles,  thin  befprent, 
To  age  a  graceful  reverence  lent ; 
His  beard,  all  white  as  fpangles  frore 
That  clothe  Plinlimmon's  forefts  hoar, 
Down  to  his  harp  defcending  flow'd ; 
With  time's  faint  rofe  his  features  glow'd; 
His  eyes  diffus'd  a  foften'd  fire, 
And  thus  he  wak'd  the  warbling  wire : 

"  Liften,  Henry,  to  my  reed  ! 
"  Not  from  fairy  realms  I  lead 
"  Bright-rob'd  tradition,  to  relate 
"  In  forged  colours  Arthur's  fate  ; 
"  Though  much  of  old  romantic  lore 
"  On  the  "high  theme  I  keep  in  flore  : 
"  But  boaftful  fiction  (hould  be  dumb, 
"  Where  truth  the  ilrain  might  beft  become. 
"  If  thine  ear  may  ftill  be  won 
41  With  fongs  of  Uther's  glorious  fon ; 
*,'  Henry,  I  a  tale  unfold, 
"  Never  yet  in  rhyme  enroll'd, 
"  Nor  fung  nor  harp'd  in  hall  or  bower  ; 
"  Which  in  my  youth's  full  early  flower, 
C£  A  minftrel,  fprung  of  Cornifli  line, 
"  Who  fpoke  of  kings  from  old  Locrine, 
"  Taught  me  to  chant,  cne  vernal  dawn, 
"  Deep  in  a  cliff-encircled  lawn, 
"  What  time  the  gliftening  vapours  fled  , 
"  From  cloud-envelop'd  Clyder's  *  head ; 
"  And  on  its  fides  the  torrents  gray 
"  Shone  to  the  morning's  orient  ray. 

"  When  Arthur  bow'd  his  haughty  creft, 
"  No  princefs,  veil'd  in  azure  veft, 
"  Snatch'd  him,  by  Merlin's  potent  fpell, 
"  In  groves  of  golden  blifs  to  dwell ; 
"  Where,  crown'd  with  wreaths  of  mifletoe, 
"  Slaughter'd  kings  in  glory  go : 
"  But  when  he  fell,  with  winged  fpeed, 
"  His  champions,  on  a  milk-white  fteed, 
"  From  the  battle's  hurricane, 
f  Bore  him  to  Jofeph's  towered  fane, 
"  In  the  fair  vale  of  Avalon  f  : 
"  There,  with  chanted  orilbn, 
"  And  the  long  blaze  of  tapers  clear, 
"  The  ftoled  fathers  met  the  bier  ; 
«<  Through  the  dim  aifle«,  in  order  dread 
"  Of  martial  woe,  the  chief  they  led, 


*   Or  Glydir,  a  mountain  in  Caernartionjbire. 

^  Glaflonbury  abbey,  faid  to  be  fc:  nded  by  Jofeph  of 
Arimatbeu,  in  a  ffot  anciently  called  the  tfland  or  val- 
tey  of  A-ualetiia, 


OF   WART  ON. 

"  And  deep  entomb'd  in  holy  ground, 

"  Before  the  altar's  folemn  bound. 

"  Around  no  duflcy  banners  wave, 

"  No  mouldering  trophies  mark  the  grave  : 

"  Away  the  ruthlefs  Dane  has  tprn 

"  Each  trace  that  time's  flow  touch  had  worn; 

"  And  long,  o'er  the  negle&ed  ftone, 

"  OblivJon's'veil  its  fhade  has  thrown  : 

"  The  faded  tomb,  with  honour  due, 

"  'Tis  thine,  O  Henry,  to  renew ! 

"  Thither,  when  conqueft  has  reftor'd 

"  Yon  recreant  ifle,  and  fheath'd  the  fword, 

"  When  peace  with  palm  has  crown'd  thy  brows, 

"  Hafte  thee,  tapay  thy  pilgrim  vows. 

"  There,  obfervant  of  my  lore, 

"  The  pavement's  hallow'd  depth  explore  ; 

"  And  thrice  a  fathom  underneath 

"  Dive  into  the  vaults  of  death. 

"  There  fhall  thine  eye,  with  wild  amaze, 

"  On  his  gigantic  ftature  gaze ; 

"  There  fhalt  thou  find  the  monarch  laid, 

".  All  in  warrior-weeds  array'd ; 

"  Wearing  in  death  his  helmet-crown, 

"  And  weapons  huge  of  old  renown. 

"  Martial  prince,  'tis  thine  to  fave 

"  From  dark  oblivion  Arthur's  grave  ! 

"  So  may  thy  fhips  fecurely  flem 

"  The  weftern  frith :  thy  diadem 

"  Shine  vi&orious  in  the  van, 

"  Nor  heed  the  flings  of  Ulfter's  clan  : 

"  1'hy  Norman  pike-men  win  their  way 

"  Up  the  dun  rocks  of  Harald's  hay  *  ; 

"  And  from  the  fteeps  of  rough  Kildare 

"  Thy  prancing  hoofs  the  falcon  fcare  : 

"  So  may  thy  bow's  unerring  yew 

"  Its  fhafts  in  Roderick's  heart  imbrew  -J-." 

Amid  the  pealing  fymphony 
The  fpiced  goblets  mantled  high ; 
With  paffions  new  the  fong  imprefs'd 
The  liftening  king's  impatient  breaft: 
Flafh  the  keen  lightnings  from  his  eyes ; 
He  fcorns  a  while  his  bold  emprife ; 
Ev'n  now  he  feems,  with  eager  pace, 
The  confecrated  floor  to  trace  ; 
And  ope,  from  its  tremendous  gloom, 
The  treafure  of  the  wondtrous  tomb  : 
Ev'n  now,  he  burns  in  thought  to  rear, 
From  its  dark  bed,  the  ponderous  fpear, 
Rough  with  the  gore  of  Pidtifh  kings : 
Ev'n  now  fond  hope  his  fancy  wings, 
To  poife  the  monarch's  marly  blade, 
Of  magic-temper'd  metal  made  ; 
And  drag  to-day  the  dinted  ftiield 
That  felt  the  florrn  of  Camlan's  field. 
O'er  the  fepulchre  profound  , 

Ev'n  now,  with' arching  fculpture  crown'd, 
He  plans  the  chantry's  choral  fhrine, 
The  daily  dirge,  and  rites  divine. 

*  The  bay  of  Dublin.  Harald,  or  Har-Sager,  the 
Fair-haired  King  of  Norway,  is  faid,  in  the  life  of 
Gryffudh  ap  Conan,  Prince  of  North  Wales,  to  have 
conquered  Ireland,  and  to  bave  founded  Dublin. 

f  Henry  is  fuppofed  to  have  fucceeded  in  this  enter- 
pr'fe,  chiejiy  by  tie  nfe  of  the  lang-boiV)  with  ivbiclj  Shi 
Irijb  were  entirely  unacquainted. 


SONNETS. 


1075 


SONNETS. 


SONNET  I. 

WRITTEN  AT  WINSLADE,    IN  HAMPSHIRE. 

WINSLADE,  thy  beech-capt  hills,  with  wavin 

grain 

Mantled,  thy  chequer'd  views  of  wood  and  lawn, 
"Whilom  could  charm,  or  when  the  gradual  dawn 
Gan  the  gray  mift  with  orient  purple  (lain, 
Or  evening  glimmer'd  o'er  the  folded  train : 
Herfaireil  landfcapes  whence  my  mufe  has  drawn, 
Too  free  with  fervile  courtly  phrafe  to  fawn, 
Too  weak  to  try  the  bufkin's  (lately  flrain  : 
Yet  now  no  more  thy  flopcs  of  beech  and  corn, 
Nor  views  invite,  fincc  he  far  diftant  ftrays, 
With  whom  I  trac'd  their  fweets  at  eve^and  morn, 
From  Albion  far,  to  cull  Hefperian  bays ; 
In  this  alone  they  pleafe,  howe'er  forlorn, 
That  ftill  they  can  recal  thofe  happier  days. 

SONNET  II. 

ON    BATHING. 

WHEN  late  the  trees  were  ftriptby  winter  pale, 
Young  health,  a  dryad-maid  in  vefture  green, 
Or  like  the  forefl's  filver-quiver'd  queen, 
On  airy  uplands  met  the  piercing  gale ; 
And,  ere  its  earliefl  echo  (hook  the  vale, 
Watching  the  hunter's  joyous  horn  was  feen. 
But  fince,  gay-thron'd  in  fiery  chariot  fheen, 
Summer  has  (mote  each  daify-dappled  dale  ; 
She  to  the  cave  retires,  high-arch'd  beneath 
The  fount  that  laves  proud  Ids'  towery  brim : 
And  now,  all  glad  the  temperate  air  to  breathe, 
While  cooling  drops  diftil  from  arches  dim, 
Binding  her  dewy  locks  with  fedgy  wreath, 
She  fits  amid  the  choir  of  naiads  trim. 

SONNET  III. 

WRITTEN   IN    A   BLANK   LEAF  OF    DUGDALE's 
MONAST1CON. 

DEEM  not,  devoid  of  elegance,  the  fage, 

By  fancy's  genuine  feelings  unbeguil'd, 

Of  painful  pedantry  the  poring  child  ; 

\Vho  turns,  of  thefe  proud  domes,  th'  hifloric  page, 

Now  funk  by  time,  and  Henry's  fiercer  rage. 

Think' ft  thou  the  warbling  mufes  never  fmil'd 

On  his  lone  hours  ?  Ingenuous  views  engage 

His  thoughts,  on  themes,  unclaffic  falfely  flyl'd, 

Intent.     While  cloifter'd  piety  difplays 

Her  mouldering  roll,  the  piercing  eye  explores 

New  manners,  and  the  pomp  of  elder  days, 

Whence  culls  the  penfive  bard  his  pidur'd  (lores. 

Nor  rough,  nor  barren,  are  the  winding  ways 

Of  hoar  antiquity,  but  flrown  with  flowers. 


SONNET  IV. 

WRITTEN  AT    STONEHENGE. 

THOU  nobleft  monument  of  Albion's  ifle  ! 
Whether  by  Merlin's  aid  from  Scythia's  (hore, 
To  Amber's  fatal  plain  Pendragon  bore, 
Huge  frame  of  giant-hands,  the  mighty  pile, 
T'  entomb  his  Britains  (lain  by  Hengift's  guile  *  : 
Or  Druid  priefts,  fprinkled  with  human  gore, 
Taught  mid  thy  mafly  maze  their  myftic  lore  : 
Or  Danifli  chiefs,  enrich'd  with  favage  fpoil, 
To  victory's  idol  vaft,  an  unhewn  flirine, 
Rear'd  the  rude  heap :  or,  in  thy  hallow'd  round, 
Repofc  the  kings  of  Brutus'  genuine  line ; 
Or  here  thofe  kings  in  fclcmn  (late  were  crown'd : 
Studious  to  trace  thy  wond'rous  origine, 
We  mufc  on  many  an  ancient  tale  renown 'd. 

SONNET  V. 

WRITTEN  AFTER  SEEING  WILTON-HOUSE. 

FROM  Pembroke's  princely  dome,  where  mimic 

art 

Decks  with  a  magic  hand  the  dazzling  bow'rs, 
Its  living  hues  where  the  warm  pencil  pours, 
And  breathing  forms  from  the  rude  marble  dart, 
How  to  life's  humbler  fcene  can  I  depart  ? 
My  bread  all  glowing  from  thofe  gorgeous  tow'rs, 
In  my  low  cell  how  cheat  the  fallen  hours! 
Vain  the  complaint :  for  fancy  can  impart 
(To  fate  fuperior,  and  to  fortune's  doom) 
Whate'er  adorns  the  (lately-ftoried  hall: 
She,  mid  the  dungeon's  folitary  gloom, 
Can  drefs  the  graces  in  their  Attic  pall : 
BJd  the  green  landfkip's  vernal  beauty  bloom: 
And  in  bright  trophies  clothe  the  twilight  wall. 

SONNET  VI. 

TO   MR.  GRAY. 

NOT  that  her  blooms  are  mark'd  with  beauty's  hue, 
My  ruilic  mufe  her  votive  chaplet  brings ; 
Unfeen,  unheard,  O  Gray,  to  thee  (he  fings! 
While  (lowly-pacing  through  the  churchyard  dew, 
At  curfew-time,  beneath  the  dark-green  yew, 
Thy  penfive  genius  ftrikes  the  moral  (Irings ; 
Or  borne  fubiime  on  infpiration's  wings, 
Hears  Cambria's  bards  devote  the  dreadful  clue 
Of  Edward's  race,  with  murders  foul  defil'd; 
Can  auglit  my  pipe  to  reach  thine  ear  effay  ? 
No,  bard  divine  !  For  many  a  care  beguil'd 
By  the  fwcet  magic  of  thy  foothing  lay, 
For  many  a  raptur'd  thought,  and  vifion  wild, 
To  thee  this  ftrain  of  gratitude  I  pay. 

*  One  of  bardifi  traditions  about  Stonebeagt, 
3Yij 


io;6 


THE  WORKS    OF   WARTON. 


SONNET  VIL 


WHILE  Summer-funs  o'er  the  gay  profpeil  play'd. 
Through  Surry's  verdant   fcenes,   where   Epfcm 

fpreads 

Mid  intermingling  elms  her  flowery  meads. 
And  Hafcombe's  hill,  in  towering  groves  array'd, 
Rear'd  its  romantic  fteep,  with  mind  ferene 
I  journey'd  blithe.     Full  penfive  1  return'd  ; 
For  now  my  breaft  with  hopelefs  paffion  burn'd, 
Wet  with  hoar  mifts  appear'd  the  gaudy  fcene 
Which  late  in  carelefs  indolence  I  paft  ; 
.And  Autumn  all  around  thofe  hues  had  caft 
Where  palt  delight  my  recent  griaf  might  trace. 
Sad  change,  that  nature  a  congenial  gloom 
Should  wear,  when  moft  my  cheerlefs  mood  to 

chafe, 
I  wifli'd  her  green  attire  and  wonted  bloom  '. 


SONNET  VIII. 

ON  KING  ARTHUR'S  ROUND  TABI.E  AT 
WINCHESTER. 

WHERE  Venta's  Norman  caftle  ftill  appears 
Itsrafter'd  hall,  that  o'er  the  graffy  fofs, 
And  fcatter'd  flinty  fragments  clad  in  mpfs, 
On  yonder  fteep  in  naked  ftate  appears; 
High-hung  remains,  the  pride  of  warlike  years, 
Old  Arthur's  board  :  on  the  capacious  round 


Some  Britifli  pen  has  fketch'd  the  names  renown'd, 
In  marks  oblcure,  of  his  immortal  peers. 
Though   join'd   by    magic    Ikill,    with    many    a 

rhyme, 

The  Druid  frame,  unhonour'd  falls  a  prey 
To  the  flow  vengeance  of  the  wizard  time, 
And  fade  the  Britifli  characters  away  ; 
Yet  Spenfer's  page,   that  chaunts  in  verfe  fublirne 
Thofe  chiefs  fliall  live,  uncontcious  of  decay. 

SONNET  IX. 

TO  THE  RIVER  LODON. 

An  !  what  a  weary  race  my  feet  have  run, 
Since  firft  I  trod  thy  banks  with  alders  crown'd, 
And  thought   my   way  was   all    through    fairy 

ground, 

Beneath  thy  azure  fky  and  golden  fun  : 
Where  firft  my  mufe  to  lifp  her  notes  begun  ! 
While  penfive  memory  traces  back  the  round, 
Which  fills  the  varied  interval  between  ; 
Much  pleafure,  more  of  forrow,  marks  the  fcene. 
Sweet   native   ftream !    thofe   fkies   and   funs   fo 

pure 

No  more  return,  to  cheer  my  evening  road  I 
Yet  ftill  one  joy  remains,  that  not  obfcure, 
Nor  ufelefs,  all  my  vacant  days  have  flow'd, 
From  youth's  gay  dawn  to  manhood's  prime  ma 
ture  ; 
Nor  with  the  mufe's  laurel  unbeftow'd. 


MISCELLANIES. 


INSCRIBED  ON  A  BEAUTIFUL  GROTTO 
NEAR  THE  WATER. 

THE  graces  fought  in  yonder  ftream, 

To  cool  the  fervid  day, 
When  love's  malicious  godhead  came, 

And  ftole  their  robes  away. 

Proud  of  the  theft,  the  little  god 

Their  robes  bade  Delia  wear  : 
While  they  afham'd  to  ftir  abroad, 

Remain  all  naked  here. 

THE  PLEASURES  OF  MELANCHOLY. 

MOTHER  of  mufings,  contemplation  fage, 
Whofe  grotto  ftands  upon  the  topmoft  rock 
Of  TeuerifF;  'mid  the  tempeftuous  night, 
On  which,  in  calmeft  meditation  held, 
Thou  hear'ft  with  howling  winds  the  beating  rain, 
And  drifting  hail  defcend ;  or  if  thf  fkies    ' 
Unclouded  fhine,  and  through  the  blue  ferene 
Pale  Cynthia  rolls  her  filver-axled  car, 
Whence  gazing  iledfaft  on  the  fpangled  vault 
Raptur'd  thou  fitt'it,  while  murmurs  indiftinct 
Of  diftant  billows  footh  thy  penfive  ear 


With  hoarfe  and  hollow  founds ;  fecure,  felf-bleft, 
There  6ft  thou  liften'it  to  the  wild  uproar 
Of  fleets  encountering,  that  in  whifpers  low 
Afcends  the  rocky  fummit,  where  thou  dwell'ft 
Remote  from  man,  converfing  with  the  fphejes^ 
-O  lead  me,  queen  fublime,  to  folemn  glooms 
Congenial  with  my  foul ;  to  cheerlefs  fliades, 
To  ruin's  feats,  to  twilight  cells  and  bow'rs, 
Where  thoughtful  melancholy  loves  to  mufe, 
Her  fav'rite   midnight  haunts.      The    laughing  I 

fcenes 

Of  purple  Spring,  where  all  the  wanton  train 
Of  fmiles  and  graces  feem  to  lead  the  dance 
In  fportive  round,  while  from  their  hands  they 

fliow'r 

Ambrofial  blooms  and  flow'rs,  no  longer  charm ; 
Tempe,  no  more  I  court  thy  balmy  breeze, 
Adieu  green  vales  !  ye  broider'd  meads,  adieu  1 
Beneath  yon  ruin'd  abbey's  mofs-grown  piles 
Oft  let  me  fit  at  twilight  hour  of  eve,  [moon 

Where  through  fome   western  window  the   pale 
Pours  her  long-levell'd  rule  of  ftreaming  light ; 
While  fallen  (acred  filence  reigns  around, 
Save  the  lone  fcreech-owl's  note,  who  builds  his 

bow'r 
Amid  the  rnculd'ring  caverns  dark  and  damp, 


MISCELLANIES. 


Or  the  calm  breeze,  tlat  nifties  in  the  leaves 
Of  flaunting  ivy,  that  with  mantle  green 
Inverts  Ibme  wafted  tow'r.     Or  let  me  trend 
Its  neighb'ring  walk  of  pines,  where  mus'd  of  old 
The   cloifler'd    brothers :     through    the   gloomy 

void 

That  far  extends  beneath  their  ample  arch 
As  on  I  pace,  religious  horror  wraps 
My  foul  in  dread  repute.     But  when  the  world 
Is  clad  in  midnight's  raven-colour'd  robe, 
'Mid  hollow  cliarnel  let  me  watch  the  rlame 
Of  taper  dim,  (bedding  a  livid  glare 
O'er  the  wan  heaps  ;  while  airy  voices  talk 
Along  the  gfimm't  ing  walls  ;  or  gholily  fhape 
At  diftance  it-en,  invites  with  beck'ning  hand 
My  lonefonoe  fteps,  through  the  far-winding  vaults. 
Nor  undclightful  is  the  fo'.emn  noon 
Of  nigJit,  when  haply  wakeful  trom  my  couch 
I  ftart :   lo,  ail  is  motionless  around  ! 
Roars  not  the  ruffling  wind  ;  the  fons  of  men 
And  every  bead  in  mute  oblivion  lie  ; 
All  nature's  huih'd  in  filence  and  in  flee  p. 

0  then  how  fearful  is  it  to  refled, 

That  through  the  ftill  globe's  awful  folitude, 
No  being  wakes  but  me  !  till  ftealing  deep 
My  drooping  temples  bathes  in  opiate  dews. 
Nor  then  let  dreams,  of  wanton  folly  born, 
My  fenfes  lead  through  flow'ry  paths  of  joy  ; 
But  let  the  facred  genius  ef  the  night 
Such  myftic  vifions  fend,  as  Spenfer  faw, 
When  through  bewild'ring  fancy's  magic  maze, 
To  the  fell  houfe  of  Bufyrune,  he  led 
Th"  unfhaken  Britomart ;  or  Milton  knew, 
When  in  abllrac"red  thought  he  firft  conceiv'd 
All  heav'n  in  tumult,  and  the  feraphim 
Come  tow'ring,  arm'd  in  adamant  and  gold. 

Let  ethers  love  foft  Summer's  ev'uing  fniiles, 
As  lift'ning  to  the  dilrant  water-fall, 
They  mark  the  blufhes  of  the  ilreaky  weft ; 

1  choofe  the  pale  December's  foggy  gloonqs. 
Then  with  Vhe  fullen  fliades  of  ev'uing  clofc, 
\Vheie  through  the  room  a  blindly-glimm'ring 

gleam 

Thy  dying  embers  fcatter,  far  remote 
From  mirth's  mad  fliouts,  that  through  the  illu- 

min'd  roof 

Refound  with  fettive  echo,  let  rne  fit, 
Bleft  with  the  lowly  cricket's  drowfy  dirge. 
Then  let  my  thought  contemplative  explore 
This  fleeting  iiate  of  things,  the  vain  delights, 
The  fruitlefs  toils,  that  ftill  our  fearch  elude, 
As  through  the  wildernefs  of  life  we  rove. 
This  fober  hour  of  filence  will  unmalk 
Falfe  folly's  fmile,  that  like  the  dazzling  fpells 
Of  wily  Comus  cheat  th'  unweeting  eye 
With  blear  illulion,  and  perfuadeto  drink 
That  charmed  cup,  which  reai'on's  mintage  fair 
Unmonlds,  and  (tamps  the  monfteron  the  man. 
Eager  we  tafte,  but  in  the  lulcious  draught 
Forget  the  poifonous  dregs  that  lurk  beneath. 

Fe\v  know  that  elegance  of  foul  refiu'd, 
"Whoie  foft  fenfation  feels  a  quicker  joy 
From  melancholy's  fcenes,  than  the  dull  pride 
Of  taftelefs  fplendeur  and  magnificence 
Can  e'er  afford.     Thus  Eloife,  whofe  mind 
Had  languiih'dto  the  pangs  of  melting  love, 
More  genuine  tranfport  found,  as  or:  fon.e  tomb 


Reelin'd,  fhe  watch'd  the  tapers  of  the  dead  ; 
Or  through  the  pillar'd  aifles,  amid  pale  [brines 
Oi  imag'd  faints,  and  intermingled  graves, 
Mus'd  a  veil'd  votarefs ;   than  Flavia  feels, 
As  through  the  mazes  of  the  fettive  ball 
Proud  of   her  conquering   charms  aud   beauty's 

blaze, 

She  floats  amid  the  (liken  fons  of  drefs, 
And  fliines  the  faireft  of  th'  aifirnbled  fair. 

When  azure  noontide  cheers  the  dcedal  globe, 
And  the  bleft  regent  of  the  golden  day 
Rejoices  in  his  bright  meridian  bow'r, 
How  oft  my  wilhes  a(k  the  night's  return, 
That  beft  befriends  the  melancholy  mind  ! 
Hnil,  facred  night !  thou  too  malt  (hare  my  fong! 
Siller  of  ebon-lcepter'd  Hecate,  hail  I 
Whether  in  congregated  clouds  thou  wrapp'ft 
Thy  viewlefs  chariot,  or  with  fiiver  crown 
Thy  beaming  head  encircled,  ever  hail ! 
What   though  beneath  thy   gloom   the  forcerefs 

train, 

Far  in  obfcured  haunt  of  Lapland  moors, 
With  rhymes  uncouth  the  bloody  cauldron  blefs; 
Though  murder,  wan  beneath  thy  fhrouding  (hade, 
Summons  her  flow-ey'd  vot'nes  to  dcvife 
Of  fecret  (laughter,  whJe  by  one  blue,  lamp 
In  hideous  conf'rence  fits  the  lill'ning  band, 
And  ftart  at  each  low  wind,  or  wakeful  found  ; 
What  though  thy  ftay  the  pilgrim  curfeth  oft, 
As  all  benighted  in  Arabian  waftes 
He  hears  the  wildernefs  around  him  howl 
With  roaming  monfters,  while  on  his  hoar  head 
The  black-deicending  tempeft  ceafelefc  beats; 
Yet  more  delightful  to  my  penfive  mind 
Is  thy  return,  than  blooming  morn's  approach, 
Ev'n  then,  in  youthful  pride  of  opening  May, 
When  from  the  portals  of  the  faffron  eaft 
She  flieds  frefh  rofes,  and  ambrolial  dews, 
Yet  not  ungrateful  is  the  morn's  approach 
When  dropping  wet  fhe  comes,  and  clad  in  clouds, 
While  through  the  .damp  air  fcowls    the  louring 

fouth, 

Blackening  the  landfcape's  face,  that  grove  and  hill 
In  formlefs  vapours  undiltinguiih'd  fwim  : 
Th'  afflicted  fongfters  of  the  fadden'd  groves 
Hail  not  the  fullen  gloom  ;  the  waving  elms 
That  hoar  through  time,  and  rang'd  in  thick  ar 
ray, 

Enclofe  with  (lately  row  fome  mral  hall, 
Are  mute,  nor  echo  with  the  clamours  hoarfe 
Of  rooks  rejoicing  on  their  airy  boughs ; 
While  to  the  died  the  dripping  poultry  crowd, 
A  mournful  train  :  fecure  the  village-hind 
Hangs  o'er  the  crackling  blaze,  nor  tempts  the 

ftorm, 

Fix'd  in  th'  unfmifli'd  furrow  refts  the  plough  : 
Rings  not  the  high  wood  with  enliven'd  fliouts 
Of  early  hunter  :  all  is  filence  drear ; 
And  deepeft  fadnefs  wraps  the  face  of  things. 
Through  Pope's  foft  fofig  though  all  the  graces 

breathe, 

And  happieft  art  adorn  his  Attic  page  ; 
Yet  does  my  mind  with  fweeter  tranfport  glow, 
As  at  the  root  of  mofly  trunk  recliii'd, 
In  magic  Spenfer's  wildly-warbled  fong 
I  fee  deftrted  Una  wander  wide 
Through  wasteful  fclitudes,  and  lurid  heaths, 


1078 


THE   WORKS   OF  WAR  TON. 


Weary,  forlorn ;  than  when  the  *  fated  fair, 
Upon  the  bofom  bright  of  filver  Thames, 
Launches  in  all  the  lullre  of  brocade, 
Amid  the  fplendours  of  the  laughing  fun. 
The  gay  defcription  palls  upon  the  fenfe, 
And  coldly  Strikes  the  mind  with  feeble  blifs. 
Ye  youths  of  Albion's  beauty-blooming1  ifle, 
Whofe  brows  have  worn  the  wreath  of  lucklefs 

love, 

Is  there  a  pleafure  like  the  penfive  mood, 
Whofe  magic  wont  to  footh  your  foften'd  fouls  ? 
O  tell  how  rapturous  the  joy,  to  melt 
To  melody's  aiTuafive  voice  ;  to  bend 
Th'  uncertain  ftep  along  the  midnight  mead, 
And  pour  your  forrows  to- the  pitying  moon, 
•By  many  a  flow  trill  from  the  bird  of  woe 
Oft  interrupted  ;  in  embow'ring  woods 
By  darkfome  brook  to  mufe,  and  there  forget 
The  folemn  dullnefs  of  the  tedious  world, 
While  fancy  grafps  the  vifionary  fair : 
And  now  no  more  the  abftraclred  ear  attends 
The  water's  rnurm'ring  lapfe,  th'  entranced  eye 
Pierces  no  longer  through  the  extended  rows, 
Of  thick-rang'd  trees ;  till  haply  from  the  depth 
The  woodman's  ftroke,  or  diftar.t  tinkling  team, 
Or  heifers  ruftling  through  the  brake  alarms 
Th'  illuded  fenfe,  and  mars  the  golden  dream. 
Thefe  are  delights  that  ahfence  drear  has  made 
Familiar  to  my  foul,  e'er  fince  the  form 
Of  young  Sapphira,  beauteous  as  the  Spring, 
When  from  her  vi'let-woven  couch  awak'd 
By  frolic  zephyr's  hand,  her  tender  cheek 
Graceful  fhe  lifts,  and  blufliing  from  her  bow'r 
Iffues  to  clothe  in  ghdfome-glift'ring  green 
The  genial  globe,  firft  met  my  dazzled  fight : 
Thefe  are  delights  unknown  to  minds  profane, 
And  which  alone  the  penfive  foul  can  tafte. 

The  taper'd  choir,  at  the  late  hour  of  pray'r, 
Oft  let  me  tread,  while  to  th'  according  voice 
The  many  founding  organ  peals  on  high, 
The  clear  flow-dittied  chaunt,  or  varied  1iymn, 
Till  all  my  foul  is  bath'tl  in  ecftacies, 
And  lap'd  in  Paradife.     Or  let  me  fit 
Far  in  fequefter'd  aifles  of  the  deep  dome, 
There  lonefome  liftcn  to  the  facred  founds, 
Which,   as  they  lengthen    through    the  Gothic 

vaults, 

In  hollow  murmurs  reach  my  ravifh'd  ear. 
Nor  when  the  lamps  expiring  yield  to  night, 
And  folitude  returns,  would  I  forfake 
The  folemn  manfion,  but  attentive  mark 
The.due  clock  fwinging  flow  with  fweepy  fway, 
Meafuring  time's  flight  with  momentary  found. 

Nor  let  me  fail  to  cultivate  my  mind 
With  the  foft  thrillings  of  the  tragic  mufe, 
Divine  Melpomene,  fweet  pity's  nurfe, 
Q__ueen  of  the  (lately  ftep,  and  flowing  pall. 
Now  let  Monimia  mourn  with  ftreaming  eyes 
Her  joys  inceftuous,  and  polluted  love  : 
Now  let  foft  Juliet  in  the  gaping  tomb 
Print  the  laft  kifs  on  her  true  Romeo's  lips, 
His  lips  yet  reeking  from  the  deadly  draught. 
Or  Jaflier  kneel  for  one  forgiving  look. 
Nor  feldom  let  the  Moor  on  Defdemone 
Pour  the  mifguided  threats  of  jealous  rage. 

*  Belinda.    See  Rape  of  the  Lock. 


By  foft  degrees  the  manly  torrent  (teals 
From  my  fwoln  eyes  ;  and  at  a  brother's  woe 
My  big  heart  melts  in  fympathizing  tears. 

What  are  the  fplendours  of  the  gaudy  court, 
Its  tinfel  trappings,  and  its  pageant  pomps? 
To  me  far  happier  feems  the  baniuVd  lord 
Amid  Siberia's  unrejoicing  wilds 
Who  pines  all  lonefome,  in  the  chambers  hoar 
Of  fome  high  cattle  fliut,  whofe  windows  dim 
In  diftaut  ken  difcover  tracklefs  plains, 
Where  Winter  ever  whirls  his  icy  car; 
While  ftill  repeated  objects  of  his  view, 
The  gloomy  battlements  and  ivied  fpires 
That  crown  the  folitary  donw,  arife; 
While  from  the  topmoft  turret  the  flow  clock, 
Far  heard  along  th'  inhofpitable  waftes, 
With  fad  returning  chime  awakes  new  grief; 
Ev'n  he  far  happier  feems  than  is  the  proud, 
The  potent  fatrap,  whom  he  left  behind 
'.Mid  Mofcow's  golden  palaces,  to  drown 
In  eafe  and  luxury  the  laughing  hours. 

Illuftrious  objects  ftrike  the  gazer's  mind 
With  feeble  blifs,  and  but  allure  the  fight, 
Nor  roufe  with  impulfe  quick  th'  unfeeling  heart. 
Thus  feen  by  fhepherd  from  Hymettus'  brow, 
What  daedal  landfcapes  fmile  !  here  palmy  groves, 
Refounding  once  with  Plato's  voice,  arife, 
Amid  whofe  umbrage  green  her  filver  head 
Th'  unfading  oiive  lifts;  here  vine-clad  hills 
Lay  forth  their  purple  ftore,  and  funny  vales 
In  profpect  vaft  their  level  laps  expand, 
Amid  whofe  beauties  gliftering  Athens  tow'rs. 
I'hough  through  the  blifsful  fcenes  Iliflusroli 
His  fage-infpiring  flood,  whofe  winding  marge 
The  thick- wove  laurel  Ihadesi    though  rofeate 

morn 

Pour-all  her  fplendours  on  th'  empurpled  'fcene ; 
Yet  feels  the  hoary  hermit  truer  joys, 
As  from  the  cliff  that  o'er  his  cavern  hangs 
He  views  the  piles  of  fall'n  Perfepolis 
In  deep  arrangement  hide  the  darkfome  plain. 
Unbounded  wafle  !  the  mould'ring  obelifk 
Here,  like  a  blafted  oak,  afcends  the  clouds  ; 
Here  Parian  domes  their  vaulted  halls  difclofe 
Horrid  with  thorn,  where  lurks  th'  unpityingthie£ 
Whence  flits  the  twilight-loving  bat  at  eve, 
And  the  deaf  adder  wreaths  her  fpotted  train, 
The  dwellings  once  of  elegance  and  art. 
Here  temples  rife,  amid  whofe  hallowed  bounds 
Spires  the  black  pine,  while  through  the  naked 

ftreet, 

Once  haunt  of  tradeful merchants,  fprings  the  grafs: 
Here  columns  heap'd  on  proftrate  columns,  torn 
From  their  firm    bafe,   increale   the   mould'ring 

mafs. 

Far  as  the  fight  can  pierce,  appear  the  fpoils 
Of  funk  magnificence  !  a  blended  fcene 
Of  moles,  fanes,  arches,  domes,  and  palaces, 
Where,  with  his  brother  horror,  ruin  fits. 

O  come  then,  Melancholy,  queen  of  thought  ? 
O  come  with  faintly  look,  and  ftedfaft  ftep,  [yew. 
From  forth  thy  cave  embower'd  with  mournful 
Where  ever  to  the  curfew's  folemn  found 
Lift'ning  thou  fitt'ft,  and  with  thy  cyprefs  bind 
Thy  votary's  hair,  and  feal  him  for  thy  fon. 
But  never  let  Euphrdfyne  beguile 
With  toys  of  wanton  mirth  my  fixed  mind, 


MISCELLANIES. 


1075 


Nor  in  my  path  her  primrofe  garland  raft.     / 
Though  'mid  her  train  the  dimpled  Hebe  bare 
Her  roiy  bofom  to  'th'  enamour'd  view  ; 
Though  Venns,  mother  of  the  fmiles  and  loves, 
And  Bacchus,  ivy-crown'd,  in  citron  bow'r 
With  her  on  nedlar-ftreaming  fruitage  feaft  ; 
What  though  'tis  hers  to  calm  the  low'ring  ikies, 
And  at  her  pretence  mild  th'  embattl'd  clouds 
Difperfe  in  air.  and  o'er  the  face  of  heav'n 
New  day  diffufive  gleam  at  her  approach  ; 
Yet  are  thefe  joys  that  melancholy  gives, 
Than  all  her  witlefs  revels  happier  far  ; 
Thefe  deep-felt  joys,  by  contemplation  taught. 

Then  ever  beauteous  contemplation,  hail ! 
From  thee  began,  aufpicious  maid,  my  fong, 
With  thee  (hall  end  ;  for  thou  art  fairer  far 
Than  are  the  nymphs  of  Cirrha's  moffy  grot ; 
To  loftier  rapture  thou  canft  wake  the  thought, 
Than  all  the  fabling  poet's  boafted  pow'rs. 
Hail,  queen  divine  !  whom,  as  tradition  tells, 
Once,  in  his  ev'ning  walk  a  Druid  found, 
Far  in  a  hollow  glade  of  Mona's  woods  ; 
And  piteous  bore  with  hofpitable  hand 
To  the  clofe  fhelter  of  his  oaken  bow'r. 
There  foon  the  fage  admiring  mark'd  the  dawn 
Of  fnlemn  mufing  in  your  penfive  thought ; 
For  when  a  fmiling  babe,  you  lov'd  to  lie 
Oft  deeply  Itft'ning  to  the  rapid  roar 
Of  wood-hung  Meinai,  ftream  of  Druids  old, 

A  PANEGYRIC  ON  OXFORD  ALE, 

"  Mea  nee  Faternae 

"  Temperant  vites,  neque  Formiani 

*'  Pocula  colles."     HOR. 

BALM  of  my  cares,  fweet  folacc  of  my  toils, 
Hail  juice  benignant !   O'er  the  coltly  cups 
•  Of  roit-ftirring  wine,  unwholefome  draught, 
Let  pride's  loole  fons  prolong  the  waiteful  night; 
My  fober  ev'ning  let  the  tanlcard  blefs, 
With    toaft   embrown'd,    and    fragrant   "nutmeg 

fraught, 

While  the  rich  draught  with  oft-repeated  whiffs 
Tobacco  rnild  improves.     Divine  repaft  ! 
Where  no  crude  furfeit,  or  intemperate  joys 
Of  lawlefe  Bacchus'  reign  ;  but  o'er  my  foul 
A  calm  Lethean  creeps ;  in  drowfy  trance 
Each  thought  fubfides,  and  fweet  oblivion  wraps 
My  peaceful  brain,  as  if  the  leaden  rod 
Of  magic  Morpheus  o'er  mine  eyes  had  fhed 
Its  opiate  influence.     What  though  fore  ills 
Opprefs,  dire  want  of  chill-difpelling  coals 
Or  cheerful  candle  (lave  thermake-weight's gleam 
Haply  remaining),  heart-rejoteing  ale 
Cheers  the  fad  fcene,  and  every  want  fupplies. 

Meantime,  not  mindlefs  of  the  daily  talk 
Of  tutor  fage,  upon  the  learned  leaves 
Of  deep  Smigtecius  much  1  meditate  ; 
Whiie  ale  infpires,  and  lends  its  kindred  aid, 
The  thought-perplexing  labour  to  purfue, 
Sweet  Helicon  of  logic  1     But  if  friends 
Congenial  call  me  trom  the  toillome  page, 
To  pot-houfe  I  repair,  the  facred  haunt, 
Where,  ale,  thy  votaries  in  full  refort, 
Hold  rites  nodlurnal.     In  capacious  chair 
Of  monumental  oak  and  antique  mould, 
That  long  has  Hood  the  rage  of  conquering  years 


Inviolate  (nor  in  more  ample  chair 

Smokes  rofy  juftice,  when  th'  important  caufe, 

Whether  of  hen-roolt,  or  of  mirthful  rape, 

In  all  the  majefty  of  paifnch  he  tries), 

Studious  of  eafe,  and  provident,  I  place 

My  gladfome  limbs;  while  in  repeated  round 

Returns  replenifh'd  the  fuccefiive  cup, 

And  the  brilk  fire  confpires  to  genial  joy  : 

While  haply  to  relieve  the  iing'ring  hours 

[n  innocent  delight,  amufive  putt 

On  fmooth  joint  ftool  in  emblematic  play 

The  vain  viciflitudes  of  fortune  fhows 

Nor  reckoning,  name  tremendous,  me  difturbs, 

Nor  call'd  for,  chills  my  breaft  with  fudden  fear  3 

While  on  the  wonted  door,  expreffive  mark, 

The  frequent  penny  {lands  defcrib'd  to  view, 

In  fnowy  characlers  and  graceful  row. 

Hail,  Ticking  !  fureft  guardian  of  diftrefs  ! 
Beneath  thy  fhelter,  penny lefs  I  quaff 
Fffe  cheerful  cup,  nor  hear  with  hopelefs  heart     ' 
New   oy-lers   cry'd :— though    much    the   poet's 

friend, 

Ne'er  yet  attempted  in  poetic  ftrain, 
Accept  this  tribute  of  poetic  praife  ! 

Nor  proctor  thrice  with  vocal  heel  alarms 
Our  joys  fecure,  nor  deigns  the  lowly  roof 
Of  pot-houfe  fnug  to  vifit,  wifer  he 
The  fplend'd  tavern  haunts,  or  cofFee-honfe 
Of  James  or  Juggins,  where  the  grateful  breatli 
Of  loth 'd  tobacco  ne'er  diffus'd  its  balm  ; 
But  the  lew;!  fpendthrift,  falfely  deem'd  polite, 
While  (teams  around  the  fragrant  Indian  bowl, 
Oft  damns  the  vulgar  fons  of  humbler  ale  : 
In  vain — the  proctor's  voice  arrelts  their  joys'; 
Juft  fate  of  w.mton  pride  and  loofe  excels  ! 

Nor  lefs  by  day  delightful  is  thy  draught, 
All-pow'rful  ale  !   whofe  forrow-foothing  fweetS 
Oft  I  repeat  in  vacant  afternoon, 
When  tatterM  if  ockings  aflc  my  mending  hand 
Not  unexperienced  ;  while  the  tedious  toil 
Slides  unregarded.     Let  the  tender  fwain 
Each  morn  regale  on  nerve-relaxing  tea, 
Companion  meet  of  languor-loving  nymph  :' 
Be  mine  each  morn  with  eager  appetite 
And  hunger  undiflembled,  to  repair 
To  friendly  buttery  ;  there  on  fmoking  crufl 
And  foaming  ale  to  banquet  unreftrain'd, 
Material  breakfaft  !     Thus  in  ancient  days 
Our  anceltors  robuft,  with  liberal  cups 
Ulher'd  the  morn,  unlike  the  fqiieamifh  foni 
Of  modern  times :   nor  ever  had  the  might 
Of  Britons  brave  decay 'd,  had  thus  they  fed, 
With  Britilh  ale  improving  Britifh  worth. 
With  ale  irriguous,  undiunay'd  I  hear 
The  frequent  dun  afcend  my  lofty  dome 
Importunate  :  whether  the  plaintive  voice 
Of  landrefs  flirill  awake  my  ftartled  ear  ; 
Or  barber  fpruce  with  fupple  look  intrude  ; 
Or  tailor  with  obfequious  bow  advance ; 
Or  groom  invade  me  with  defying  front 
And  ttern  demeanour,  whofe  emaciate  deeds 
(Whene'er  or  Phoebus  (hone  with  kindlier  beams, 
Or  luckier  chance  the  borrow'd  boots  fupply'd) 
Had  panted  oft  beneath  my  goring  fteel. 
In  vain  they  plead  or  threat :  All  pow'rful  ale 
Excufes  new  fupplies,  and  each  defcends 
With  joylei's  pace,  and  debt-defpairing  looks ; 
3  Y  i>'j 


ic8o 


THE   WORKS   OF  WARTON. 


E'en  Spacey  with  indignant  brow  retires, 
Fierceft  of  duns!  and  conquer'd  quits  the  field. 

Why  did  the  gods  fuch  various  bleffings  pour 
On  haplefs  mortals,  from  thdr  grateful  hands 
So  icon  the  ihort-liv'd  bounty  to  recal  ? — 
Thus,  while  improvident  of  future  ill, 
I  quaff  the  lufcious  tankard  uncontroll'cl, 
And  thoughtlefs  riot  in  unlitens'd  blifs; 
Sudden  (d.re  fate  of  all  things  excellent !) 
Th'  unpitying  Burfar's  crofs-affixing  hand 
Blafts  all  my  joys,  and  flops  my  glad  career. 
Nor  now  the  friendly  pot-houfe  longer  yields 
A  fure  retreat,  when  night  o'erfhades  the  fkies; 
Nor  Sheppard,  baibarous  matron,  longer  gives 
The  wonted  truft,  and  Winter  ticks  no  more. 

Thus  Adam,  exil'd  from  the  beauteous  fcenes 
Of  Eden  griev'd,  no  more  in  fragrant  bow'r 
On  fruits  divine  to  feaft,  frefh  fhade  and  vale 
No  more  to  vifit,  or  vine-mantled  grot; 
But,  all  forlorn,  the  dreary  wildernefs, 
And  unrejoicing  folitudes  to  trace  : 
Thus  too  the  matchlefs  bard,  whofe  lay  refounds 
The  Splendid  Shilling's  praife,  in  nightly  gloom 
Of  lonefome  garret,  pin'd  for  cheerful  ale ; 
Whofe  fteps  in  verfe  Miltonic  I  purfue, 
Mean  follower  :  like  him  with  honeft  love 
Of  ale  divine  infpir'd,  and  love  of  fong.     "    [care 
But  long  may  bounteous  Heav'n  with  watchful 
Av«rt  his  haplefs  lot !  Enough  for  me 
That  burning  with  congenial  flame  I  dar'd 
His  guiding  fteps  at  diftance  to  purfue, 
And  fing  his  favourite  theme  in  kindred  {trains. 

NEW-MARKET. 

A    SATIRE. 


O;  If/^iKti 

T\ 
KOI  ya,. 


d.  Elcfl.  508. 


His  country's  hope,  when  now  the  blooming  heir 
Has  loft  the  parent's  or  the  guardian's  care; 
Fond  to  poffefs,  yet  eager  to  defcroy, 
Of  each  vain  youth,  fay,  what's  the  darling  joy? 
Of  each  rafh  frolic  what  the  fource  and  end, 
His  fble  and  firft  ambition  what ! — to  fpend. 

Some  'fquires  to  Gallia's  cooks  devoted  dupes, 
Whole  manors  melt  in  fauge,  or  drown  in  foups : 
Another  doats  on  fiddlers,  till  he  fees 
His  hills  no  longer  crown'd  with  tow'ring  trees; 
Convinc'd  too  late  that  modern  {trains  can  move, 
Like  thofe  of  ancient  Greece,  th'  obedient  grove: 
In  headlefs  ftatues  rich,  and  ufelefs  urns, 
Marmoreo  from  the  claflic  tour  returns. — 
But  would  ye  learn,  ye  leifure-loving  'fquires, 
How  belt  ye  may  difgrace  your  prudent  fires ; 
How  fooneft  fear  to  fafhionable  fhame, 
Be  damn'd  at  once  to  ruin — and  to  fame ; 
By  hands  of  grooms  ambitious  to  be  crown'd, 
O  greatly  dare  to  tread  Olympic  ground  ! 
.    What  dreams  of  conqueftflufti'dllilario'sbreaft, 
"When  the  good  knight  at  laft  retir'd  to  reft ! 
Behold  the  youth  with  new-felt  rapture  mark 
F/ach  pleafing  profpedl  of  the  fpacious  park  : 
That  park,  wher.e  beauties  undifguis'd  engage, 
Thofe  beauties  lefs  the  work  of  art  than  age  ; 
In  fimple  flate  where  genuine  nature  wears 
lier  venerable drefs  of  ancient  years; 


Where  all  the  charms  of  chance  with  order  me*t 
The  rude,  the  gay,  the  graceful,  and  the  great. 
Here  aged  oaks  uprear  their  branches  hoar, 
And  form  dark  groves,  which  druids  might  adore; 
With  meeting  bonghs,  and  deepening  to  the  view, 
Here  fhoots  the  broad  umbrageous  avenue  : 
Here  various  trees  compole  a  chequer'd  fcene, 
Glowing  in  gay  diverfities  of  green  ; 
There  the  full  flream  through  intermingling  glades 
Shines  a  broad  lake,  or  falls  in  deep  cafcades. 
Nor  wants  there  hazle  copfe,  or  beechen  lawn, 
To  cheer  with  fun  or  fhade  the  bounding  fawn. 

And  fee  the  good  old  feat,  whofe  Gothic  tow'rs 
Awful  emerge  from  yonder  tufted  bow'rs ; 
Whofe  rafter'd  hall  the  crowding  tenants  fed, 
And  dealt  to  age  and  want  their  daily  bread  ; 
Where  crefted  knightswith  peerlefs  damfels  join'd* 
At  high  and  folemn  feftivals  have  din'd ; 
Presenting  oft  fair  virtue's  finning  tafk, 
In  my  flic  pageantries,  and  moral  mafk. 
But  vain  all  ancient  praife,  or  boaft  of  birth, 
Vain  all  the  palms  of  old  heroic  worth  ! 
At  once  a  bankrupt,  and  a  profp'rous  heir, 
Hilario  bets, — park,  houfe,  diffolve  in  air. 
With  antique  armour  hung,  his  trophied  rooms 
Defcend  to  gameflers,  profthutes,  and  grooms. 
He  fees  his  fteel-clad  fires,  and  mothers  mild, 
Who  bravely  fhookthe  lance,  or  fvveetly  fmil  d, 
All  the  fair  feries  of  the  whifker'd  race, 
Whofe  pidlur'd  forms  the  ftately  gallery  grace  ; 
Debas'd,  abus'd,  the  price  of  ill-got  gold, 
To  deck  feme  tavern  vile,  at  auctions  fold. 
The  parifh  wonders. at  the  unopening  door, 
The  chimneys  blaze,  the  tables  groan  no  more. 
Thick  weeds  around  th'  untrodden  courts  arife, 
And  all  the  focial  fcene  in  filence  lies. 
Himfelf,  the  lofs  politely  to  repair, 
Turns  atheift,  fiddler,  highwayman,  or  play'r. 
At  length,  the  fcorn,  the  fhame  of  man  and  God, 
Is  doom'd  to  rub  the  fleeds  that  once  he  rode. 

Ye  rival  youths,  your  golden  hopes  how  vain, 
Your  dreams  of  thoufands  on  the  lifted  plain! 
Not  more  fantaftic  Sancho's  airy  courfe, 
When  madly  mounted  on  the  magic  horfe  *, 
He  pierc'd  heav'n's  opening  fpheres  with  dazzled 

eyes, 

And  feem'd  to  foar  in  vifionary  fkies. 
Nor  lefs,  I  ween,  precariousjs  the  meed, 
Of  young  adventurers  on  the  mufe's  fteed  ; 
For  poets  have,  like  you,  their  deftin'd  round, 
And  ours  is  but  a  race  on  claffic  ground. 

Long  time,  the  child  of  patrimonial  eafe, 
Hippolitus  had  carv'd  furloins  in  peace  : 
Had  quaff'd  fecure,  unvex'd  by  toil  or  wife, 
The  mild  Oclober  of  a  private  life  : 
Long  liv'd  %vith  calm  domeftic  conquefts  crown'd| 
And  kiil'd  his  game  on  fafe  paternal  ground : 
And,  deaf  to  honour's  or  ambition's  call, 
With  rural  fpoils  adorn'd  his  hoary  hall. 
As  bland  he  puff 'd  the  pipe  o'er  weekly  news, 
His  bofom  kindles  with  fublimer  views,      [more  ! 
Lo  there,  thy  triumphs,  Taaffe,  thy  palms,  Port- 
Tempt  him  to  flake  his  lands  and  treafnr'd  flore. 
Like  a  new  bruifer'on  Broughtonic  fand, 
Amid  the  lifts  our  hero  takes  his  ftand  ; 
Suck'd  by  the  fnarper,  to  the  peer  a  prey, 
He  rolls  his  eyes  that  "  witnefs  huge  difmay  ;" 

*  Cliivileno,     See  Don  Quixote,  £.  ii.  Chap .  4!. 


MISCELLANIES. 


ic8l 


When  lo!  the  chance  of  one  inglorious  heat, 
Strips  him  of  genial  cheer,  and  mug  retreat. 
How  awkward  now  he  bears  oifgrace  and  dirt, 
Nor  knows  the  poor's  lad  refuge,  to  be  pert ! — 
The  fhiftlefs  beggar  beats  of  ills  the  worfl, 
At  once  with  dofkJefs  and  with  hunger  curd. 
And  feels  the  tafteleis  bread  equedrian  fires  ? 
And  dwells  fuch  mighty  rage  in  graver  '1'qtiires  ? 

In  all  attempts,  hut  for  their  country,  bold, 
Britain,  thy  confcript  covmfellors  behold; 
(For  fome,  perhaps,  by  fortune  favour'd  yet, 
May  gain  a  borough,  from  a  lucky  bet), 
Smit  with  the  love  of  the  laconic  boot, 
The  cap,  and  wig  fuccincT:,  the  filken  itiit, 
Mere  modern  pha  tens  ui'urp  the  rein, 
And  fcour  in  rival  race  the  tempting  plain. 
See,  fide  by  fide,  his  jockey  and  Sir  John 
Pifcufs  th'  important  poiiK— »of  fix  lo  one. 
For  oh  !  the  boailed  privilege  how  dear, 
How  great  the  pride,  to  gain  a  jockey's  earl- 
See,  like  a  routed  hoft,  wirh  headlong-  pace, 
Thy  members  pour  amid  the  mingling  race  ! 
All  afk,  w  hat  crowds  the  tumult  could  produce- 
Is  Bedlam,  or  the  Commons  all  broke  loofe  ? 
Their  way  nor  reafon  guides,  nor  caution  checks, 
proud  on  a  high-bred  thing  to  rifk  their  necks.— 
Thy  fages  hear,  an'id  th'  admiring  crowd 
Adjudge  the  (lakes,  mod  eloquently  loud: 
"With  critic  {kill,  o'er  dubious  bets  prefide, 
The  low  difpute,  or  kindle,  or  decide: 
All  empty  wifdom,  and  judicious  prate, 
Of  diftanc'd  horfes  gravely  f>x  the  fate : 
And  with  paternal  care  unwearied  watch 
O'er  the  nice  conduct  of  a  daring  match. 

Meantime,  no  more  the  mimic  patriots  rife, 
To  guard  Britannia's  honour,  warm  and  wife: 
No  more  in  ienates  dare  afftrt  her  laws, 
Nor  pour  the  bold  debate  in  freedom's  caufe  : 
Neglect  the  counfcls  of  a  finking.land, 
And  know  no  roilrum,  but  New-Market's  ftand. 

Is  this  the  band  of  civil  chiefs  defign'd 
On  England's  w.eal  to  fix  the-  pondering  mind  ? 
"Who,  while  their  country's  rights,  are  let  to  fale, 
Quit  Europe's  balance  for  the  jockey's  fcale. 

0  lay,  when  lead  their  fapient  fchemes  are  croft, 
Or  whtn  a  nation,  or  a  match  is  loft  ? 

Who  dams  and  ares  with  more  eiactnefs   trace, 
Than  of  their  country's  kings  the  facred  race  : 
Think  London  journeys  are  the  word  of  ills ; 
Subfcribe  to  articles,  ir.dead  of  bills  : 
Strangers  to  all  our  armalifts  relate, 

1  he.rs  are  the  m:moirs  of  the  equedrian  date  : 
"Who  loft  to  Albion's  pad  and  prefent  views, 
Hebcr  *,  thy  chronicles  alone  perule. 

Go  on,  brave  youths,  till  in  fome  future  age, 
\Vhips  fhall  become  the  fcnatorial  badge; 
Till  i-nglano  fee  her  thronging  feiiators 
Meet  all  at  Weibm'nfter,  in  boots  and  fpurs ; 
See  the  whole  Houfe,  with  mutual  frenzy  mad, 
Htr  patriots  all  in  leathern  breeches  clad  : 
Of  bets,  not  taxes,  learnedly  debate, 
And  guide  .vith  tqual  reins  a  deed  or  date,     [dain 

Hew  would  a  virtuous f  Houhnhym  neigh  dif- 
To  fee  his  brethren  brook  the  imperious  rein  ; 

*  Author  of  an    Ilijlurltal  Lift   of  the    Running 
Horfes,  &c. 

f  fide  Gulliver's  travels.     Voyage  to  the  Houbn- 


Bear  flavery's  wanton  whip,  or  galling  goad, 
Smoke  through  the  glebe,  or  trace  the  dedin'd 

road ; 

And  robb'dof  *  manhood  by  the  murderous  knife, 
Sudain  each  fordid  toil  of  fervile  life.  [mind. 

Yet  oh !    what  rage  would  touch  his   generou* 
To  fee  his  fons  of  more  than  human  kind  ; 
A  kind,  wi'h  each  exalted  virtue  bled, 
Each  gentler  feeling  of  the  liberal  bread, 
Afford  diverfion  to  that  monfterbafe, 
That  meaneft  fpawn  of  man's  half-monkey  race  ; 
In  whom  pride,  avarice,  ignorance,  conipire, 
That  hated  animal,  a  Yahoo  'iquire. 

How  are  the  Thcrons  of  theie  modern  days, 
Chang'd  from  thofe  chiefs  who  toil'd  for  Grecian 

bays ; 

Who  fir'd  with  genuine  glory's  facred  luft, 
VVhirl'd  the  fwift  axle  through  the  Pythian  duft. 
Theirs  was  the  Pifan  olive's  blooming  fpray, 
Theirs  was  the  Theban  bard's  recording  lay. 
What  though  the  grooms  of  Greece  ne'er  took  the 

odds  ? 

They  won  no  bets — but  then  they  foar'd  to  gods; 
And  more  an  Hiero's  palm,  a  Pindar's  ode, 
Than  all  th'  united  plates  of  George  bedow'd. 

Greece !  how  I  kindle  at  thy  magic  name, 
Feel  all  thy  warmth,  and  catch  the  kindred  flame. 
Thy  fcenes  fublime,  and  awful  vifions  rife, 
In  ancient  pride  before  my  mufing  eyes. 
Here  Sparta's  fons  in  mute  attention  hang, 
While  jud  Lycurgus  pours  the  mild  harangue  ; 
There  Xerxes'  hods,  all  pale  with  deadly  fear, 
Shrink  at  her  fated  -j-  hero's  flafhing  fpear. 
Here  hung  with  many  a  lyre  of  filver  dring, 
The  laureate  alleys  of  Iliffus  fpring  : 
And  lo,  where  wrapt  in  beauty's  heavenly  dream 
Hoar  Plato  walks  his  oliv'd  academe. — 

Yet  ah  !  no  more  the  land  of  arts  and  arms 
Delights  with  wifdom,  or  with  virtue  warms. 
Lo  !  the  dern  Turk,  with  more  than  Vandal  rage, 
Has  bladed  all  the  wreaths  of  ancient  age  : 
No  more  her  groves  by  fancy's  feet  are  trod, 
Each  Attic  grace  has  left  the  lov'd  abode. 
Fall'n  is  fair  Greece  !  by  luxury's  pleafing  bane 
Seduc'd,  fhe  drags  a  barbarous  foreign  chain. 

Britannia,  watch  !  O  trim  thy  withering  bays, 
Remember  thou  had  rivall'd  Grecia's  praife, 
Great  nurfe  of  works  divine  !     Yet  oh  !  beware 
Led  thou  the  fate  of  Greece,  my  country,  fhare. 
Recal  thy  wonted  worth  with  ccnfcious  pride, 
Thou  too  had  feen  a  Solon  in  a  Hyde; 
Had  bade  thine  Edwards  and  thine  Henrys  rear 
With  Spartan  fortitude  the  Britifh  fpear ; 
Alike  has  feen  thy  fons  deferve  the  meed 
Or  of  the  moral  or  the  martial  deed. 

THE  CASTLE  BARBER'S  SOLILOQUY. 

WRITTIN  IN  THE  LATE  WAR. 

I  WHO  with  fuch  fuccefs — alas!  till 

The  war  came  on— have  fhav'd  the  cndle  ; 

Who  by  the  nofe,  with  hand  unfliaken, 

1 1m  bolded  heroes  oft  have  taken ; 

In  humble  drain,  am  doom'd  to  mourn 

My  fortune  chang'd,  and  date  forlorn ! 

*  A  copy  in  tbi  Harleian  Library)  reads  Herfe-boad. 
f  Leonidat. 


THE   WORKS   OF    WARTON. 


My  foap  fcarce  ventures  into  froth, 
My  razors  ruft  in  idle  floth  ! 
Wifdom  *  !  to  you  my  verfe  appeals; 
You  {hare  the  griefs  your  barber  feels : 
Scarce  comes  a  ftudcnt  once  a  whole  age, 
To  ftock  your  defolated  college. 
Our  trade  how  ill  an  army  fuits ! 
This  comes  of  picking  up  recruits. 
Loft  is  the  robber's  occupation, 
No  robbing  thrives— but  of  the  nation : 
For  hardy  necks  no  rope  is  twifted, 
And  e'en  the  hangman's  felf  is  lifted.— 
Thy  publifhers,  O  mighty  Jackfon ! 
With  fcarce  a  fcanty  coat  their  backs  on, 
Warning  to  youth  no  longer  teach, 
Nor  live  upon  a  dying  fpeech. 
In  caflbck  clad,  for  want  of  breeches, 
No  more  the  caftle-chaplain  preaches. 
Oh  !  were  our  troops  but  fafely  landed, 
And  every  regiment  difbanded ! 
They'd  make,  I  truft.,  a  new  campaign 
On  Henley's  hill,  or  Campsfield's  plain : 
Deftin'd  at  home,  in  peaceful  ftate, 
By  me  frefh  fhav'd,  to  meet  their  fate  ! 

Regard,  ye  Juftices  of  Peace ! 
The  Caftle- Barber's  piteous  cafe  : 
And  kindly  make  fome  fnug  addition, 
To  better  his  diftreft  condition. 
Not  that  I  mean,  by  fuch  expreffions, 
To  fhave  your  worfhips  at  the  feffions ; 
Or  would,  with  vain  prefumption  big, 
Afpire  to  comb  the  judge's  wig:  — 
Par  lefs  ambitious  thoughts  are  mine, 
Far  humbler  hopes  my  views  confine.— 
Then  think  not  that  1  afk  amifs; 
My  fmall  requeft  is  only  this, 
That  1,  by  leave  of  Leigh  or  Pardo, 
May,  with  the  caftle— fhave  Bocardo. 

Thus,  as  at  Jefus  oft  I've  heard, 
Rough  fervitors  in  Wales  preferr'd, 
The  Jonefes,  Morgans,  and  Ap-Rices, 
Keep  fiddles  with  their  beneficei. 

THE  OXFORD  NEWSMAN'S  VERSES. 

FOR    THE  YEAR  1760. 

THINK  of  the  palms,  my  mafteis  dear  ! 
That  crown  this  memorable  year  ! 
Come  fill  the  glafs,  my  hearts  of  gold, 
To  Britain's  heroes  briflc  and  bold ; 
While  into  rhyme  I  ftrivc  to  turn  all 
The  fam'd  events  of  many  a  journal. 

France  feeds  her  fons  on  meagre  foup, 
'Twas  hence  they  loft  their  Guardaloup  : 
What  though  they  drefs  fo  fine  and  ja'nty  ? 
They  could  not  keep  Marigalante. 
Their  forts  in  Afric  could  not  repel 
The  thunder  of  undaunted  Keppel : 
Brave  commodore !  how  we  adore  ye 
For  giving  us  fuccefs  at  Goree. 
Ticonderoga,  and  Niagara, 
Make  each  true  Briton  fing  O  fare  a ! 
I  truft  the  taking  of  Crown-Point 
Has  put  French  courage  out  of  joint. 

*  fix  Govern  or  of  Oxford  Ca/?!e. 


Can  we  forget  the  timely  check 
Wolfe  gave  the  fcoundrels  at  *  Quebec  ?— r 
That  name  has  ftopp'd  my  glad  career,— 
Your  faithful  newfman  drops  a  tear  ! — 

But  other  triumphs  ftill  remain, 
And  roufe  to  glee  my  rhymes  again. 

On  Mindcn's  plains,  ye  meek  Mounfeers  I 
Remember  Kingfley's  grenadiers. 
You  vainly  thought  to  ballarag  us 
With  your  fine  fquadron  off  Cape  Lagos ; 
But  when  Bofcawen  came,  •)•  La  Clue 
Sheer'd  off,  and  look'd  confounded  blue. 
Conflans  \,  all  cowardice  and  puff, 
Hop'd  to  demolifh  hardy  Duff; 
But  foon  unlock' d- for  guns  o'er-aw'd  him, 
Hawke  darted  forth,  and  nobly  claw'd  him. 
And  now  their  vaunted  Formidable 
Lies  captive  to  a  Britifh  cable. 
Would  you  demand  the  glorious  caufe 
Whence  Britain  every  trophy  draws  ? 
Ytfu  need  not  puzzle  long  your  wit ; — 
Fame,  from  her  trumpet,  anfwers— Pitt. 


FOR  THE  *EAR  1767. 

DISMAL  the  news  which  Jackfon's  yearly  bard 
Each  circling  Chriftmas  brings, — M  The  times  are 

"  hard!" 

There  was  a  time  when  Granby's  grenadiers 
Trimm'd  the  lac'd  jackets  of  the  French  Moun- 

feers ; 

When  every  week  produc'd  fome  lucky  hit, 
And  all  our  paragraphs  were  plann'd  by  Pitt. 
We  newfmen  drank — as  England's  heroes  fought, 
While  every  victory  procur'd — a  pot. 
Abroad  we  conquer'd  France, and  humbled  Spain, 
At  home  rich  harvefts  crown'd  the  laughing  plain. 
Then  ran  in  numbers  free  the  newfman's  verfes, 
Blithe  were  our  hearts,  andfull  our  leathern  purfes. 
But  now  no  more  the  ftream  of  plenty  flows, 
No  more  new  conquefts  warm  the  newfman's  nofe. 
Our  fhatter'd  cottages  admit  the  rain, 
Our  infants  ftretch  their  hands  for  bread  in  vain. 
All  hope  is  fled,  our  families  are  undone ; 
Provifions  all  are  carry'd  up  to  London  ; 
Our  copious  granaries  diftillers  thin, 
Who  raife  our  bread — but  do  not  cheapen  gin. 
Th'  effefts  of  exportation  ftill  we  rue;— 
I  wifh  th'  exporters  were  exported  too  ! 
In  every  pot-houfe  is  unpaid  our  feore  ; 
A»d..generous  Captain  Jolly  ticks  no  more  ! 
Yet  ftill  in  ftore  fome  happinefs  remains, 
Some  "triumphs  that  may  grace  thefe  annual  ftrains-, 
Misfortunes  paft  no  longer  I  repeat- 
George  has  declar'd— that  we  again  {hall  eat. 
Sweet  Willhelminy,  fpite  of  wind  and  tide, 
Of  Denmark's  monarch  fhines  the  blooming  bride : 
She's  gone  !  but  there's  another  in  her  ftead, 
For  of  a  princefs  Charlotte's  brought  to  bed  :— 
Oh,  cou'd  I  but  have  had  one  firigle  fup, ' 
One  fingle  fniff  at  Charlotte's  caudle-cup ! — 

*  Before  this  place  fell  the  brave  Wolfe,  yet  ivitk 
ibc  fatisfaflion  offirjl  hearing  that  bis  troops  ivere  •vic 
torious. — The  other  places  here  enumerated  were  coa- 
qiifjls  of  the  preceding  year. 

f   The  rrencb  Admiral. 

\  dnotbtr 


MISCELLANIES. 


1083 


I  hear—  God  blefs  it—  'tis  a  charming  girl, 

So  here's  her  health  in  hall  a  pint  of  purl. 

But  much  I  fear  this  rhyme-exhaufted  long 

Has   kept   you  from   your  Chriilmas   cheer  too 

long. 

Our  poor  endeavours  view  with  gracious  eye, 
And  bake  thefe  lines  beneath  a  Chriftmas-pie  ! 

FOR    THE    TEAR    1768. 

STII.L  (hall  the  nevvfman's  annual  rhymes 

Complain  of  taxes  and  the  times  ? 

Each  year  our  copies  {hall  we  make  on 

The  price  of  butter,  bread,  and  bacon  ? 

Forbid  it,  all  ye  po.w'rs  of  verfe  '. 

A  happier  fubjecft  1  r;hearfe. 

Farewel  diftrefs,  and  gloomy  cares  ! 

A  merrier  theme  my  mufe  prepares. 

For  lo  !  to  fave  us,  on  a  fudden, 

In  fhape  of  porter,  beef,  and  pudding, 

Though  late,  electioneering  comes  !  — 

Strike  up,  ye  trumpets,  and  ye  drums  ! 

At  length  we  change  our  wonted  note, 

And  feaft,  all  winter,  on  a  vote. 

Sure,  canvafling  \vas  never  hoher  ! 

But  whether  Harcourt,  Nares,  or  Cotter*, 

At  this  grand  crifis  will  fucceed, 

We  freemen  have  not  yet  decreed.  — 

Methinks,  with  mirth  your  fides  are  fhaking, 

To  hear  us  talk  of  member-making  ! 

Yet  know,  that  we  direct  the  flate  ; 

On  us  depends  the  nation's  fate.  — 

What  though  fome  doctor's  calt-pfF  wig 

O'erfhades  my  pate,  not  worth  a  fig  ; 

My  whole  apparel  in  decay  • 

My  beard  unfhav'd—  on  new  year's  day  ; 

In  me  behold  (the  land's  protector), 

A  freeman,  newfman,  and  eledtor  ! 

Though  cold,  and  all  unfhod,  my  toes:— 

My  breaft  for  Britain's  freedom  glows  :— 

Though  turn'd,  by  poverty  my  coat, 

It  ne'er  was  turn'd  to  give  a  vote. 

Meantime,  howe'er  improv'd  our  fate  is 
By  jovial  cups,  each  evening,  gratis  ; 
Forget  not,  'midll  your  Chriftmas  cheer, 
The  cuftoms  of  the  coming  year:— 
Inanfwer  to  this  fhort  epiftle, 
Your  tankard  fend,  to  wet  our  whiflle  ! 

FOR    THE    TEAR    1JJO. 

As  now  petitions  are  in  fafhion 
With  the  firft  patriots  of  the  nation  ; 
In  fpirit  high,  in  pocket  low, 
We  patriots  of  the  Butcher-Row, 
Thus,  like  our  betters,  afk  redrefs 
For  high  and  mighty  grievances, 
Real,  though  pcnn'd  in  rhyme,  as  thofe 
Which  oft  our  journal  gives  in  profe  :— 

"  Ye  rural  fquires,  fo  plump  and  fleck, 
"  Who  ftudy—  Jackfon,  once  a  week; 
"  While  now  your  hofpitable  board 
"  With  cold  furloin  is  amply  ftor'd, 
"  And  old  October,  nutmeg'd  nice, 
"  Send  us  a  tankard  and  a  flice  ! 


*  Candidates  far  t  be  city  of  Oxford. 


Ye  country  parfons,  fland  our  friends, 

While  now  the  driving  fleet  defcends  ! 

Give  us  your  antiquated  canes, 

To  help  us  through  the  miry  lanes; 

Or  with  a  rufty  grizzle  wig 

This  Chriftmas  deign  our  pates  to  rig. 

Ye  noSie  gem'men  of  the  gown, 

View  not  our  verfes  with  a  frown! 

But,  in  return  for  quick  difpatches, 

Invite  us  to  your  buttery-hatches  ! 

Ye  too,  whofe  houfcs  are  fo  handy, 

For  coffee,  tea,  rum,  wine,  and  brandy; 

Pride  of  fair  Oxford's  gawdy  ftreets, 

You  too  our  {train  fubmiffive  greets! 

Hear  Horfeman,  Spindlow,  King,  and  Har- 

"  per* ! — 

The  weather  fure  was  never  fharper  :— 
Matron  of  Matrons,  Martha  Baggs! 
Dram  your  poor  newfman  clad  in  rags ! 
Dire  mifchiefs  folks  above  are  brewing, 
The  nation's — and  the  newfman's  ruia  :— 
'Tis  your's  our  forrows  to  remove ; 
And  if  thus  generous  ye  prove, 
For  friends  fo  good  we're  bound  to  pray 
Till — next  returns  a  new-year's  day  IV 

"  Giv'n  at  our  melancholy  cavern, 

"  The  cellar  of  the  Sheep's-Head  Tavern.'* 


FOR    THE    YEAS    1771. 

DELICIOUS  news— a  war  with  Spain  ! 

New  rapture  fires  our  Chriftmas  flrain. 

Behold,  to  flrike  each  Briton's  eyes, 

What  bright  victorious  fcenes  arife  ! 

What  paragraphs  of  Englim  glory 

Will  Mafter  Jackfon  fet  before  ye ! 

The  governor  of  Buenos  Ayres 

Shall  dearly  pay  for  his  vagaries ; 

For  whether  North,  or  whether  Chatham, 

Shall  rule  the  roaft,  we  muft  have-at-'em : 

Galloons — Havannah — Porto  Bello,— 

Eie  long,  will  make  the  nation  mellow:— 

Our  late  trite  themes  we  view  with  fcorn, 

Bejlas  the  bold,  and  Parfon  Home: 

Nor  more,  through  many  a  tedious  winter, 

The  triumphs  of  the  patriot  Squinter, 

The  ins  and  outs,  with  cant  eternal, 

Shall  crowd  each  column  of  our  Journal.— 

After  a  dreary  fcafon  paft, 

Our  turn  to  live  is  come  at  laft  : 

Gen'rals,  and  admirals,  and  Jews, 

Contractors,  printers,  men  of  news, 

All  thrive  by  war,  and  line  their  pockets, 

And  leave  the  works  of  peace  to  blockheads. 

But  ftay,  my  mufe,  this  hafty  fit— 
The  war  is  not  declar'd  as  yet : 
And  we,  though  now  fo  blithe  we  fing, 
May  all  be  prefs'd  to  ferve  the  king  ! 
Therefore,  meantime,  our  mailers  dear, 
Produce -your  hofpitable  cheer  :— 
While  we,  with  much  fincere  delight, 
(Whether  we  publilh  news— or  fight) 
Like  England's  undegencrate  Ions, 
Will  drink — confufion  to  the  Dons ! 


of  noted  ctjfet'baufef  in  Oxford. 


left* 


THE     WORKS    OF    WART  ON. 


THE  PHAETON,  AND  THE  ONE-HORSE 
CHAIR. 

AT  Blagravc's  *  once  upon  a  time, 

There  flood  a  phaeton  i'ublime  : 

Unfullied  by  the  dufty  road, 

Its  wheels  with  rec'ent  crimfon  glow'd ; 

Its  fides  difplay'd  a  dazzling  hue, 

Its  harnefs  tight   its  lining  new  : 

No  fchcme-enamour'd  youth,  I  ween, 

Survey'd  the  gaily-deck'd  machine, 

But  fondly  long'd  to  feize  the  reins, 

And  whirl  o'er  Campsfield'sj-  tempting  plains. 

Meantime  it  chanc'd  that  hard  at  hand 

A  one-horfe  chair  had  took  its  ftand  : 

When  thus  our  vehicle  begun 

To  fneer  the  luckkfs  chaife  and  one. 

".  How  could  my  mafter  place  me  here 
Within  thy  vulgar  atmofphere? 
From  claffic  ground  pray  fhift  thy  ftation, 
Thou  from  of  Oxford  education  ! — - 
Your  homely  make,  believe  me,  man, 
Is  quite,  upon  the  Gothic  plan  ; 
And  you,  and  all  your  clumfy  kind, 
For  loweft  ^urpofes  defign'd: 
Fit  only,  with  a  one-ey'd  mare, 
To  drag,  for  benefit  of  air, 
The  country  parfon's  pregnant  wife, 
Thou  friend  of  dull  domeftic  life  ! 
Or,  with  his  maid  and  aunt,  to  fchool 
To  carry  Dicky  on  a  ftool : 
Or,  happly  to  feme  chriftening  gay, 
A  brace  of  godmothers  convey. — 
Or,  when  blefl  Saturday  prepares 
For  London  tradcfmcn  reft  from  cares, 
*Tis  thine  to  make  them  happy  one  day, 
Companion  of  their  genial  Sucday  ! 
'Tis  thine,  o'er  turnpikes  newly  made, 
When  timely  fhow'rs  the  duft  have  laid, 
To  bear  fome  alderman  ferene 
To  fragrant  Hampftead's  fylvan  fcene. 
Nor  higher  fcarce  thy  merit  rifcs 
Among  the  polifh'd  foris  of  Ifis. 
Hit'd  for  a  fo'itary  crown, 
Canfl  thou  to  1'chemes  invite  the  gown  ? 
Go,  tempt  fome  prig,  pretending  tafte, 
With  hat  new  cock'd,  and  newly  lac'd, 
O'er  mutton-chops,  and  fcanty  wine, 
At  humble  Dorchefter  to  dine  1 
Meantime  remember,  lifelefs  drone  1 
I  carry  Bucks  and  Bloods  alone. 
And  oh  ! '  whene'er  the  weather's  friendly, 
What  inn  at  Abingdon  or  Henly, 
But  flill  my  vaft  importance  feels, 
And  gladly  greets  ray  entering  wheels! 
And  think,  obedient  to  the  thong, 
How  yon  gay  ftreet  we  fmoke  along : 
While  all  with  envious  wonder  view 
The  corner  turn'd  fo  quick  and  true." 

To  check  an  upftart's  empty  pride, 
Thus  fage  the  one-horfe  chair  reply'd. 

"  Pray,  when  the  confequence  is  weigh' d, 
What's  all  your  fpirit  and  parade  ? 
From  mirth  to  grief  what  fad  tranfitions, 
To  broken  bones  and  impofitions ! 

*  Well  known  at  Oxford/or  letting  out  carriages,  1/63. 
•J1  In  the  road  to  Blenheim, 


Or  if  no  bones  are  broke,  what's  worfe, 

Your  fchemes  make  work  for  Glafs  and  Nourfe.— 

On  us  pray  fpare  your  keen  reproaches, 

From  one-horfe  chairs  men  rife  to  coaches; 

If  calm  difcretion's  fteadfaft  hand, 

With  cautious  fkill  the  reins  command. 

From  me  fair  health's  frefh  fountain  fprings, 

O'er  m.  foft  fnugnefs  fpreads  her  wings : 

And  innocence  rclledls  her  ray 

To  gild  my  calm  lequefter'd  way  : 

E'en  kings  might  quit  their  flate  to  fhare 

Contentment  and  a  one-horfe  chair. — 

What  though,  o'er  yonder  echoing  ftreet 

Your  rapid  wheels  refound  fo  fweet; 

Shall  Ifis  ions  thus  vainly  prize 

A  rattle  of  a  larger  fize  ?'' 

Blagrave,  who  during  the  difpute, 
Stood  in  a  corner,  fnug  and  mute, 
Surpris'd,  no  doubr,  in  lofty  verfe, 
To  hear  his  carriages  converfe, 
With  folemn  face,  o'er  Oxford  ale, 
To  me  difclos'd  this  \vonderous  tale  C 
I  ftrait  difp;itch'd  it  to  the  mufe, 
Who  brufh'd  it  up  for  Jackfon's  news, 
And,  what  has  oft  been  penn'd  in  profe, 
Added  this  moral  at  the  clofe. 

"  Things  may  be  ufeful  though  obfcure  ; 

The  pace  that's  flow  is  often  lure : 

When  empty  pageantries  we  prize, 

We  raife  but  dull  to  blind  our  eyes. 

The  golden  mean  can  befl  beftow 

Safety  for  unfubftantial  fhovv." 

MORNING.     AN  ODE. 

THE  AUTHOR  CONFINED  TO  COLLEGE,  174^, 

Scrilintas  incltifi. PERS.  Sat.  i.  v.  13. 

ONCE  more  the  vernal  fun's  ambrofial  beams 

The  fields,  as  with  a  purple  robe  adorn  : 
Charwell,  thy  fedgy  banks, and  glift'ring  ftreams 
All  laugh  and  fing  at  mild  approach  of  morn ; 
Through  the  deep  groves  1  hear  the  chaunting 

birds, 

And  through  the  clover'd  vale  the  various-lowing 
herds. 

Up  mounts  the  mower  from  his  lowly  thatch, 

Wellpleas'd  the  progrefs  of  the  fpring  to  mark, 
The  fragrant  breath  of  breezes  pure  to  catch, 
And  ftartle  from  her  couch  the  early  lark  ; 
More  genuine  pleafure  fooths  his  tranquil  breaft, 
Than  high-thron'd  kings  can  boafl,  in  eaflcrn  elory 
dreft. 

The  penfive  poet  through  the  green-wood  fteals 
Or  treads  the  willow'd  marge  of  murmuring 

brook ; 
Or  climbs  the  fteep  afcent  of  airy  hills ; 

There  fits  him  down  beneath  a  branching  oak, 
Whence  various  fcenes,  and  profpecls  wide  be 
low,  [glow. 
Still  teach  his  mufing  mind  with  fancies  high  to 

But  I  nor  with  the  day  awake  to  blifs, 
(Inelegant  to  me  fair  nature's  face, 

A  blank  the  beauty  of  the  morning  is, 

And  grief  and  darknefs  all  for  light  and  grace) ; 

Nor  bright  the  fun,  nor  green  the  meads  appear, 
Nor  colour  charms  mine  eye,  nor  melody  mine  ear. 


MISCELLANIES. 


1085 


Me,  void  of  elegance  and  manners  mild, 
With  leaden  rod,  ftern  difcipline  reftrains; 

Stifif  pedantry,  of  learned  pride  the  child, 
My  roving  genius  binds  in  Gothic  chains; 

Nor  can  the  cloifter'd  mufe  expand  her  wing, 
Nor  bid  thefe  twilight  roofs  with  her  gay  carols 


ODE  TO  A  GRIZZLE  WIG. 

BY    A    GENTLEMAN    WHO    HAS    JUST    LEFT    OFF 
HIS    BOB. 

ALL  hail,  ye  curls,  that  rang'u  in  reverend  row, 
With  fnowy  pomp  my  confcious  flioulders  hide  ! 
That  fall  beneath  in  venerable  flow, 
And  crown  my  brows  above  with  feathery  pride  ! 

High  on  your  fummit,  wifdom's  mimick'd  air 
Sits  thron'd,  with  pedantry  her  folemn  fire, 
And  in  her  net  of  awe-diffufing  hair, 
Entangles  fools,  and  bids  the  crowd  admire. 

O'er  every  lock,  that  floats  in  fiill  difplay, 
Sage  ignorance  her  gloom  fcholaiftic  throws ; 
And  ftamps  o'er  all  my  vifage,  once  fo  gay, 
Unmeaning  gravity's  ferene  repofe. 

Can  thus  large  wigs  our  reverence  engage  ? 
Have  barbers  thus  the  povv'r  to  blind  our  eyes  ? 
Is  fcience  thus  conferr'd  on  every  fage, 
By  Baylifs,  Blenkinfop,  and  lofty  Wife  *  ? 

But  thou,  farewel,   my   bob !    whofe   thin-wove 
thatch  [wiles, 

,    Was  ftor'd  with  quips  and  cranks,  and  wanton 
That  love  to  live  within  the  one-cud'd  fcratch, 
With  fun,  and  all  the  family  of  fmilcs. 

Safe  in  thy  privilege,  near  Ifis"  brook, 
Whole  afternoons  at  Wolvercote  I  quaff 'd  ; 
At  eve  my  carelefs  round  in  High-Street  took, 
And  call'd  at  Jolly's  for  the  caiual  draught. 

No  more  the  wherry  feels  my  flroke  fo  true  ; 
At  {kittles,  in  a  grizzle,  can  I  play  ? 
Woodftock,  farewel!  and  Wallingford,  adieu! 
Where  many  a  fcheme  reliev'd  tlu  lingering  day. 

Such  were  the  joys  that  once  Hilario  crown'd, 
Ere  grave  preferment  came  my  peace  to  rob : 
Such  are  the  lefs  ambitious  pleafures  found 
Beneath  the  liceat  of  an  humble  bob. 

EPISTLE  FROM  THOMAS  HEARN,  AN 
,TIQpARY, 

TO  THE  AUTHOR    OF    THE    COMPANION    TO    TH 
OXFORD    GUIDE,    &C. 

FRIEND   of  the  mofs-grown  fpire  and  crumblin 

arch, 

Who  wont'il  at  eve  to  pace  the  long-loft  bounds 
Of  lonefome  Ofeney !  What  malignant  fiend 
Thy  cloiiler-loving  mind  from  ancient  lore 
Hath  hafe  feduc'd  ?  urg'd  thy  apoftate  pen 
To  trench  deep  wounds  on  antiquaries  iige, 
And  drag  the  venerabJe  fathers  forth, 
Victims  to  laughter  ?  Cruel  r.s  the  mandate 
Of  mitred  pritils,  who  Bafket  late  enjoin'd 

*  Eminent  fcruha-maLn  in  Oxford. 


"o  throw  slide  the  reverend  letters  black, 
:id  print  tail-prayers  in  modern  type  !  — At  this 
-eland,  and  Willis,  Dugdale,  Tanner,  Wood, 
.hiftrious  names!  with  Camden,  Aubrey,  Lloyd, 
ca!d  their  old  cheeks  with  tears  !  For  once  they 

hop'd 

!*o  feal  thee  for  their  own  !  and  fondly  dv:em'4 
"he  mufes,  at  thy  call,  would  crowding  coiue 
:'o  deck  antiquity  with  flowrets  gay. 

But  now  may  curies  every  il-arch  attend 
['hat  feems  inviting!  May' ft  thou  pore  in  vain 
dubious  door-ways !  May  revengeiul  moths 
['hy  ledgers  eat  1  May  chronologic  Ipouts 
detain  no  cypher  legible  !  May  crypts 
urk  undiicern'd  !    Nor   may 'ft    thou    fpell   the 

names 

Of  faints  in  floried  windo\vs !  Nor  the  dates 
Of  bells  difcover  !  Nor  the  genuine  fite  _ 
Of  Abbots'  pantries!  And  may  Uodftowe  veil, 
Deep  from  thy  eyes  profane, her  Gothic  charms! 

INSCRIPTION  OVER  A  CALM  AND  CLEAR 
SPRING  IN  BLENHEIM-GARDENS. 

MERE  quench  your  thirft,  and  mark  in  me 
An  emblem  of  true  charity  ; 
Who,  while  my  bounty  I  bcfhow, 
A:n  neither  heard  nor  fc^a  to  Hew. 


JOB,  CHAP.  XXXIX. 

DECLARE,  if  heav'nly  wifdom  blefs  thy  tongue, 
When  /teems  the   mountain  goat  with   promis'd 

young  ; 

The  ftatcd  feafons  tell,  the  month  explain, 
Wh?n  teels  the  bounding  hind  a  mother's  pain ; 
While,  in  th"  oppriiflive  agonies  of  birth, 
Silent  they  bow  the  ibrrovving  head  to  earth? 
Why  crop  their  luily  feed  the  verdant  food  ? 
Why  leave  their  dams  to  fearch  the  gloomy  wood  ? 
Say,  whence  the  wild-afs  wantons  o'er  the  plain, 
Sports  uncontroul'd,  unconfcious  of  the  rein  ? 
'Tis  his  o'er  fcencs  of  folitudc  to  roam, 
The  wafte  his  houfe,  the  wildernds  his  home ; 
He  fcorns  the  crowded  city's-pomp  and  noife, 

Nor  heeds  the  driver's  rod,  nor  hears  his  voice  ; 

At  will  ou  ev'ry  various  verdure  fed, 

His  pafiure  o'er  the  fhaggy  cliffs  is  fpread. 
Will  the  fierce  unicorn  obey  thy  call, 

Tnflav'd  to  man,  and  patient  of  the  ftall  ? 

Say,  will  he  ftubborri  ftoop  thy  yoke  to  bear, 

And  through  the  furrow  drag  the  tardy  fhare  ? 

Say,  can  ft  thou  think,  O  wretch  of  vain  belief, 

His  laboring  limbs  will  draw  thy  weighty  flieaf  ? 

Or  canft  thou  tame  the  temper  of  his  blood 

With  faithful  feet  to  trace  the  deftin'd  road  ? 

Who  paints  the  peacock's  train  with  radiant  eyes, 

And  all  the  bright  diverfity  of  dyes  ? 

Whofe  hand  the  {lately  oflric'i  has  fupply'd 

With  glorious  plumage,  and  her  fnowy  pride  ? 

Thoughtlefs  file  leaves  amid  the  dufty  way, 

Her  eggs,  to  ripen  in  the  genial  ray  ; 

Nor  heeds,  that  fome  fell  beaft,  who  thirfts  for 
blood, 

Or  the  rude  foot  may  crufh  the  future  brood. 

In  her  no  love  the  tender  offspring  fhare, 

No  foft  remembrance,  no  maternal  care: 


THE   WORKS    OF    WARTON. 


For  God  has  fteel'd  her  unrelenting  breaft, 
Nor  feeling  fenfc,  nor  inftinct  mild  impreft, 
Bide  her  the  rapid-rulhing  fteed  defpiie, 
Outftrip  the  rider's  rage,  and  tow'r  amidft  the 
flcies.  [deck  ? 

Didft  thou  the  horfe  with  ftrength  and  beauty 
Haft  thou  in  thunder  cloth'd  his  nervous  neck  ? 
Will  he,  like  groveling  grafhoppers  afraid, 
Start  at  each  found,  at  ev'ry  brteze  difmay'd? 
A  cloud  of  fire  his  lifted  noftrils  raife, 
And  breathe  a  glorious  terror  as  they  blaze. 
He  paws  indignant,  and  the  valley  fpurns, 
Rejoicing  in  his  might,  and  for  the  battle  burns. 
When  quivers  rattle,  and  the  frequent  fpear 
Flies  flafhing,  leaps  his  heart  with  languid  fear  ? 
Swallowing  with    fierce    and   greedy   rage    the 
ground,  [found?" 

"  Is  this,"    he   cries,    "   the  trumpet's  warlike 
Eager  he  fcents  the  battle  from  afar, 
And  all  the  mingling  thunder  of  the  war. 
Flies  the  fierce  hawk  by  thy  fupreme  command, 
To  feek  foft  climates,  and  a  fouthern  land  ? 
Who  bade  th'  afpiring  eagle  mount  the  fky, 
And  build  her  firm  aerial  neft  on  high  ? 
On  the  bare  cliff,  or  mountain's  fhaggy  fteep, 
Her  fortrefs  of  defence  fhe  dares  to  keep ; 
Thence  darts  her  radiant  eye's  pervading  ray, 
Inquifitive  to  ken  the  diftant  prey. 
Seeks  with  her  thirfty  brood  th  enfanguin'd  plain, 
There  bathes  her  beak  in  blood,  companion  of  the 
flain. 

THE  PROGRESS  OF  DISCONTENT. 

•WRITTEN    AT    OXFORD    IN    THE    YEAR    1746. 

WHEN  now  mature  in  claffic  knowledge, 

The  joyful  youth  is  fent  to  college, 

His  father  comes,  a  vicar  plaift, 

At  Oxford  bred — in  Anna's  reign, 

And  thus,  in  form  of  humble  fuitor, 

Bowing  accofts  a  reverend  tutor. 

"  Sir,  I'm  a  Glo'fterfhire  divine, 

•*  And  this  my  eldeft  fon  of  nine ; 

"  My  wife's  ambition  and  my  own 

"  Was  that  this  child  fhould  wear  a  gown ; 

"  I'll  warrant  that  his  good  behaviour 

"  Will  juftify  your  future  favour; 

"  And  for  his  parts,  to  tell  the  truth, 

"  My  fon's  a  very  forward  youth ; 

"  Has  Horacu  all  by  heart— you'd  wonder — 

*  And  mouths  out  Homer's  Greek  like  thunder. 

"  If  you'd  examine — and  admit  him, 

"  A  fcholarfhip  would  nicely  fit  him: 

"  That  he  fucceeds  'tis  ten  to  one ; 

M  Your  vote  and  intereft,  Sir!" — 'Tis  done. 

Our  pupil's  hopes,  though  twice  defeated, 
Are  with  a  fcholarfhip  completed  : 
A  fcholarfhip  but  half  maintain:,, 
And  college  rules  are  heavy  chains : 
In  garret  dark  he  fmokes  and  puns, 
A  prey  to  difcipline  and  duns  ; 
And  now  intent  on  new  defigns, 
Sighs  for  a  fellowfhip — and  fines. 

When  nine  full  tedious  winters  paft, 
That  utmoft  wHh  is  crown'd  at  laft : 
But  the  rich  prize  no  fooner  got, 
Again  he  quarrels  with  his  lot : 


"  Thefe  fellowfhips  arc  pretty  thingj, 

"  We  live  indeed  like  petty  kings : 

"  But  who  can  bear  to  wafte  his  whole  age 

"  Amid  the  dullueis  of  a  college, 

"  Debarr'd  the  common  joys  of  life, 

"  And  that  prime  blifs — a  loving  wife  ! 

"  O  !  what's  a  table  richly  fpread 

"  Without  a  woman  at  its  head  ! 

"  Would  fome  Inug  benefice  but  fall, 

"  Ye  feafts,  ye  dinners  !  farewel  all ! 

"  To  offices  I'd  bid  adieu, 

"  Of  Dean,  Vice  Pref. — ofBurfartoo; 

"  Come  joys,  that  rural  quiet  yields, 

"  Come,  tithes,  and  houfe,  and  fruitful  fields  !" 

Too  fond  of  freedom  and  of  eafe 
A  patron's  vanity  to  pleafe, 
Long  time  he  watches,  and  by  ftealth, 
Each  frail  incumbent's  doubtful  health ; 
At  length — and  in  his  fortieth  year, 
A  living  drops — two  hundred  clear  ! 
With  breaft  elate  beyond  expreffion, 
.  He  hurries  down  to  take  poffefiion, 
With  rapture  views  the  fweet  retreat— 
"  What  a  convenient  houfe  !  how  neat! 
"  For  fuel  here's  fufficient  wood: 
"  Pray  God  the  cellars  may  be  good  ! 
"  The  garden— that  muft  be  new  plann'd— • 
"  Shall  thefe  old-fafhion'd  yew-trees  ftand  ? 
"  O'er  yonder  vacant  plot  fhall  rife 
'  The  flow'ry  fhrub  of  thoufand  dyes  :— 
'  Yon  wall,  that  feels  the  foathern  ray, 
'  Shall  blulh  with  ruddy  fruitage  gay : 
'  While  thick  beneath  its  afpedl  warm 
'  O'er  well-rang'd  hives  the  bees  fhall  fwarnj, 

From  whichr  ere  long,  of  golden  gleam 

Metheglin's  lufc'ious  juice  fliall  ftrenm  . 

This  awkward  hut,  o'ergrown  with  ivy, 

We'll  alter  to  a  modern  privy  •. 

Up  yon  green  flope,  of  hazel's  trim, 

An  avenue  fo  cool  and  dim, 

Shall  to  an  arbour,  at  the  end, 
"  In  fpite  of  gout,  entice  a  friend.   . 
"  My  predeceffor  lov'd  devotion— 
"  But  of  a  garden  had  no  notion." 

Continuing  this  fantaftic  farce  on, 
He  now  commence:'  country  parfon. 
To  make  his  character  entire, 
He  v.'tcis— a  coufin  of  the  'fquire ; 
Not  over  weighty  in  the  purfe, 
But  many  dodtors  have  done  worfc : 
And  though  flie  boalts  no  charms  divine, 
Yst  fhe  can  carve  and  make  birch  wine. 

Thus  fixt,  content  he  taps  his  barrel, 
Exhorts  his  neighbours  not  to  quarrel ; 
Finds  his  church-wardens  have  difcerning 
Both  in  good  liquor  and  good  learning ; 
With  tithes  his  barns  replete  he  fees, 
And  chuckles  o'er  his  furplice  fees; 
Sttuiie.-.  to  find  out  latent  dues, 
And  regulates  the  ftate  of  pews ; 
Rides  a  fleck  mare  with  purple  houfing» 
To  (hare  the  monthly  clubs  caroufing; 
Of  Oxford  pranks  facetious  tells. 
And — but  on  Sundays — hears  no  bells; 
Sends  prefents  of  his  choiceft  fruit, 
And  prunes  himfelf  each  faplefs  fhoot ; 
Plants  colliflon -*rs,  and  boafts  to  rear 
The  earlieft  melons  of  the  year ; 


MISCELLANIES. 


1078 


Thinks  alteration  charming  work  is, 

Keeps  Bantam  cocks,  and  ieeds  his  turkies ; 

Builds  in  his  copfe  a  fav'rite  bench, 

And  ftores  the  pond  with  carp  and  tench.— 
But  ah  !  too  foon  his  thoughtlefs  breaft 

By  cares  domeftic  is  oppreft; 

And  a  third  butcher's  bill,  and  brewing, 

Threaten  inevitable  ruin  : 

For  children  frefli  expences  yet, 

And  Dicky  now  for  fchool  is  fit. 

"  Why  did  I  fell  my  college  life 

"  (He  cries)  for  benefice  and  \vife  ? 

Return,  ye  days  !  when  cndlefs  pleafure 
I  found  in  reading,  or  in  leifure  ! 
When  calm  around  the  common  room 
I  puff 'd  my  daily  pipe's  perfume ! 
Rode  for  a  flomach,  and  infpedled, 
At  annual  bottlings,  corks  felecled : 
And  din'd  untax'd,  untroubled,  under 
The  portrait  of  our  pious  founder ! 
When  impofitions  were  fupply'd 
To  light  my  pipe — or  footh  my  pride- 
No  cares  were  then  for  forward  peas 
A  yearly-longing  wife  to  pleafe ; 
My  thoughts  no  chrift'ning  dinners  croft, 
No  children  cry'd  for  butter'd  toafl ; 
And  ev'ry  night  I  went  to  bed, 
Without  a  modus  in  my  head!" 
Oh  !  trifling  head,  and  fickle  heart ! 

Chagrin'd  at  whatfoe'er  thou  art ; 

A  dupe  to  follies  yet  untry'd, 

And  fick  of  pleasures,  fcarcc  enjoy'd ! 

Each  prize  ppffefs'd,  thy  tranfporc  ceafes, 

And  in  purfuit  alone  it  pleafes. 

PROLOGUE 

pN  THE  OLD  WINCHESTER  PLAYHOUSE,  OVER 
THE  BUTCHER'S  SHAMBLES. 

WHOE'ER  our  flage  examines,  muftexcufe 
The  wond'rous  fhifts  of  the  dramatic  mufe ; 
Then  kindly  liften,  while  the  prologue  rambles 
From  wit  to  beef,  from  Shakfpeare  to  the  fham- 

bles  1 

Divided  only  by  one  flight  of  flairs, 
The  monarch  fwaggers,  and  the  butcher  fwears ! 
Quick  the  transition  when  the  curtain  drops, 
From  meek  Monimia's  moans  to  mutton-chops ! 
While  for  Lothario's  lofs  Lavinia  cries, 
Old  women  fcold,  and  dealers  d— n  your  eyes ! 
Here  Juliet  liftens  to  the  gentle  lark, 
There  in  harih  chorus  hungry  bull-dogs  bark. 
Cleavers  and  fcymitars  give  blow  for  blow, 
And  heroes  bleed  above,  and  fheep  below  ! 
While  tragic  thunders  fhake  the  pit  and  box, 
Rebellows  to  the  roar  the  ftaggering  ox. 
Cow-horns  and  trumpets  mix  their  martial  tones, 
Kidnies  and  kings,  mouthing  and  marrow-bones. 
Suet  and  fighs,  blank  verfe  and  blood  abound, 
And  form  a  tragi-comedy  around. 
With  weeping  lovers,  dying  calves  complain, 
.  Confufion  reigns— chaos  is  come  again ! 
Hither  your  fteelyards,  butchers,  bring,  to  weigh 
The  pound  of  flefh,  Anthonio's  bond  muft  pay  ! 
Hither  your  knives,  ye  Chriftians,  clad  in  blue, 
Bring  to  be  whetted  by  the  ruthlefs  Jew ! 


Hard  is  our  lot,  who,  feldom  doom'd  to  eat, 
Caft  a  fheep's-eye  on  this  forbidden  meat — 
Gaze  on  furlpins,  which  aji !  we  cannot  carve, 
And  in  the  midft  of  legs  of  mutton — ftarve ! 
But  would  you  to  our  houfe  in  crowds  repair, 
Ye  gen'rous  captains,  and  ye  blooming  fair, 
The  fate  of  Tantalus  we  fhoulcl  not  fear, 
Nor  pine  for  a  repaft  that  is  fo  near. 
Monarchs  no  more  would  fupperlefs  remain, 
Nor  pregnant  queens  for  cutlets  long  in  vain. 

A  PASTORAL 

IN    THE    MANNER    OF    SPENSER. 
From  Theocritus.     Idyll.  XX. 

As  late  I  ftrove  Lucilla's  lip  to  kifs, 
She  with  difcurtefee  reprov'd  my  will; 
Doft  thou,  me  faid,  affedt  fo  pleafant  blefs, 
A  fimple  fhepherd,  and  a  lofell  -vile  ? 
Not  fancy's  hand  fhould  join  my  courtly  lip 
To  thine,  as  I  myfelf  were  faft  afleep. 

As  thus  fhe  fpake,  full  proud  and  boafling  lafle, 

And  as  a  peacocke  pearke,  in  dalliance 

She  bragly  turned  her  ungentle  face, 

And  all  difdaining  ey'd  my  fhape  afkaunce : 

But  I  did  blufh,  with  grief  and  fhame  yblent, 

Like  morning-rofe  with  hoary  dewe  befprent. 

Tell  me,  my  fellows  all,  am  I  not  fair  ? 
Has  fell  enchantrefs  blafted  all  my  charms  ? 
Whilom  mine  head  was  fleek  with  trefled  hayre, 
My  laughing  eyne  did  fhoot  out  love's  alarms  : 
E'en  Kate  did  deemen  me  the  fairefl  fwain, 
When  erft  I  won  this  girdle  on  the  plain. 

My  lip  with  vermil  was  embelliflied, 

My  bagpipes  notes  loud  and  delicious  were, 

The  milk-white  lilly,  and  the  rofe  fo  red, 

Did  on  my  face  depeinten  lively  cheere, 

My  voice  as  foote  as  mounting  larke  did  fhrill, 

My  look  was  blythe  as  Marg'ret's  at  the  mill. 

But  me  forfooth,  more  fair  than  Madge  or  Kate, 
A  dainty  maid,  did  deign  not  fhepherd's  love ; 
Nor  wift  what  Thenot  told  us  fwains  sf  late ; 
That  Venus  fought  a  fhepherd  in  a  grove ; 
Nor  that  a  heav'nly  god  who  Phoebus  hight, 
To  tend  his  flock  with  fhepherds  did  delight.— 

Ah  !  'tis  that  Venus  with  accurft  defpight, 
That  all  my  dolour,  and  my  fhame  has  made! 
Nor  does  remembrance  of  her  own  delight, 
For  me  one  drop  of  pity  fweet  perfuade  ? 
Aye  hence  the  glowing  rapture  may  fhe  mifs, 
Like  me  be  fcorn'd,  nor  ever  tafte  a  kifs. 

ODE 

ON    THE    APPROACH    OF    SUMMER. 

"  Te  dea,  te  fugiunt  venti,  te  nubila  cosli, 

"  Adventumque  tuum ;  tibi  fuaveis  daedala  tel- 

"  lus 

"  Submittit  flores;  tibi  vident  asquora  ponti; 
"  Placatumque  nitet  diffufo  lumine  coelum." 


LUCRETIUS. 


HENCE,  iron-fcepter'd  Winter,  hailc 
To  bleak  Siberiam 


i?33 


THE    WORKS    OF  WARTON. 


Ilafle  to  thy  polar  folitude; 

Mid  cataracts  of  ice,  [rude, 

Whofe  torrents  dumb  are  ftretch'd  in  fragments 

From  many  an  airy  precipice, 
Where,  ever  beat  by  fleety  fhow'rs, 
Thy  gloomy  Gothic  caftle  tow'rs; 
Amid  whofe  howling  aifles  and  halls, 
Where  no  gay  funbeam  paints  the  walls, 
On  ebon  throne  thou  lov'ft  to  fhroud     • 
Thy  brows  in  many  a  murky  cloud. 

E'en  now,  before  the  vernal  heat, 
Sullen  I  fee  thy  train  retreat : 
Thy  ruthlefs  hoft  ftern  Eurus  guides, 
That  on  a  ravenous  tiger  rides, 
Dhn-figur'd  on  whofe  rcbt;  are  fhown 
Shipwrecks,  and  villages  o'erthrown  : 
Grim  Aufter,  drooping  all  with  dew, 
In  mantle  clad  of  watchet  hue: 
And  cold,  like  Zemblan  favage  feen, 
Still  threatening  with  his  arrows  keen  ; 
And  next,  in  furry  coat  emboft 
With  ificles,  his  brother  Froft. 

Winter  farewel!  thy  forefts  hoar, 
Thy  frozen  floods  delight  no  more  ; 
Farewel  the  fields,  fo  bare  and  wild ! 
But  come  thou  rofe-cheek'd  cherub  mild, 
Sweeteft  Summer  !  hafte  thee  here, 
Once  more  to  crown  the  gladdeu'd  year. 
Thee  April  blithe,  as  long  of  yore, 
Bermudas'  lawns  he  frolic'd  o'er, 
With  mufky  neflar-trickling  wing, 
(In  the  new  world's  firft  dawning  fpring), 
To  gather  balm  of  choiceft  dews, 
And  patterns  fair  of  various  hues, 
With  which  to  paint  in  changeful  dye, 
The  youthful  earth's  embroidery; 
To  cull  the  efience  of  rich  fmells 
In  which  to  dip  his  new-born  bells ; 
Thee,  as  he  fldm'd  with  pinions  fleet, 
He  found  an  infant,  fmiling  fweet ; 
Where  a  tall  citron's  {hade  embrown'd 
The  foft  lap  of  the  fragrant  ground. 
There  on  an  amaranthine  bed 
Thee  with  rare  nectarine  fruits  he  fed; 
Till  foon  beneath  his  forming  care, 
You  bloom'd  a  goddefs  debonair ; 
And  then  he  gave  the  bleffed  ifle 
Aye  to  be  fway'd  beneath  thy  fmile : 
There  plac'd  thy  green  and  graffy  flirine, 
With  myrtle  bower' cl  and  jcffamine  : 
And  to  thy  care  the  tafk  affign'd 
With  quickening  hand,  and  nurture  kind, 
His  rofeat  infant-births  to  rear, 
Till  Autumn's  mellowing  reign  appear. 

Hafte  thee,  nymph !  and  hand  in  hand, 
With  thee  lead  a  buxom 'band ; 
Bring  fantaftic-footed  Joy, 
With  Sport,  that  ycllow-trefled  boy. 
l.eifure,  that  through  the  balmy  fky, 
Chafes  a  crimfon  butterfly. 
Bring  Health  that  loves  in  early  dawn 
To  meet  the  milk-maid  on  the  lawn  ; 
Bring  Pleafure,  rural  nymph,  and  Peace, 
Meek,  cottage-loving  fhepherdefs ! 
And  that  fweet  ftripling,  Zephyr,  bring, 
Light,  and  for  ever  on  the  wing. 
Bring  the  dear  mufe,  that  loves  to  lean 
On  river-margins,  moffy  green. 


But  who  is  file,  that  bears  thy  train, 
Pacing  light  the  velvet  plain  ? 
The  pale  pink  binds  her  auburn  hair, 
Her  treffes  flow  with  paftoral  air  ; 

'Tis  May,  the  grace- confeft  ihe  ftands 

By  branch  of  hawthorn  in  her  hands: 
Lo!  near  her  trip  the  lightfome  dews, 
Their  wings  all-ting' d  in  Iris-hues; 
With  whom  the  pow'rs  of  Flora  play, 
And  paint  with  panfies  all  the  way. 

Oft  when  thy  leafon,  fwecteft  queen, 
Has  drefl  the  groves  in  liv'ry  green; 
When  in  each  fair  and  fertile  field 
Beauty  begins  her  bow'r  to  build  ; 
While  evening,  veil'd  in  fhadows  blown, 
Puts  her  matron-mantle  on. 
And  mifts  in  fpreading  fleams  convey 
More  frefli  the  fumes  of  new-fhorn  hay; 
Then,  goddefs  guide  my  pilgrim  feet 
Contemplation  hoar  to  meet, 
As  flow  he  winds  in  mufeful  mood, 
Near  the  rufli'd  marge  of  Chei  well's  flood  : 
Or  o'er  old  Avon's  magic  edge, 
Whence  Shakfpearc  cull'd  the  fpiky  fedge, 
All  playful  yet,  in  yeais  unripe, 
To  frame  a  fhrill  and  fimple  pipe. 
There  through  the  duflc  bui  dimly  feen, 
Sweet  ev'ning  objects  intervene: 
His  wattled  cotes  the  fhepherd  plants, 
Beneath  her  elm  the  milk-maid  chants. 
The  woodman,  fpeeding  home,  a  while 
Refls  him  at  a  fhady  ftile. 
Nor  wants  there  fragrance  to  difpenfe 
Refrefhment  o'er  my  foothed  fenfe ; 
Nor  tangled  woodbines  balmy  bloom, 
Nor  grafs  befprent  to  breathe  perfume : 
Nor  lurking  wild-thyme's  fpicy  fweet 
To  bathe  yi  dew  my  roving  feet : 
Nor  wants  there  note  of  Philomel, 
Nor  found  of  diflant-tinklir.g  bell : 
Nor  lowing*  faint  of  herds  remote, 
Nor  maflifF's  bark  from  bofcm'd  cot; 
Ruftle  the  bretzes  lightly  borne 
Or  deep  embattel'd  ears  of  corn : 
Round  ancient  elm,  with  humming  noife. 
Full  loud  the  chaffer-fwarms  rejoice. 
Meantime,  a  thoufand  dyes  invefb 
The  ruby  chambers  of  the  Weft '. 
That  all  aflant  the  village  tow'r 
A  mild  reflected  radiance  pour, 
While,  with  the  level-dreaming  rays 
Far  feen  its  arched  windows  blaze  : 
And  the  tall  grove's  green  top  is  dight 
In  ruffet  tints,  and  gleams  of  light: 
So  that  the  gay  fcene  by  degrees 
Bathes  my  blithe  heart  in  ecftafies  ; 
And  fancy  to  my  ravifh'd  fight 
Portrays  her  kindred  vifions  bright. 
At  length  the  parting  light  fubdues 
My  foften'd  foul  to  calmer  views, 
And  fainter  ihapes  of  penfive  joy, 
As  twilight  dawns,  my  mind  employ, 
Till  from  the  path  I  fondly  ftray 
In  mufings  lapt,  nor  heed  the  way ; 
.Wandering  through  the  landfcape  flill, 
Till  melancholy  has  her  fill ; 
And  on  each  mofs-wove  border  damp, 
The  glow  worm  hangs  his  fairy  lamp. 


MISCELLANIES. 


But  when  th'e  fun,  at  noon-tide  hour, 
Sits  throned  in  his  higheft  tow'r; 
Me,  heart-rejoicing  goddefs,  lead 
To  the  tann'd  hay-cock  in  the  mead : 
To  mix  in  rural  mood  among 
The  nymphs  and  fwains,  a  bufy  throng  ; 
Or,  as  the  tepid  odours  breathe, 
The  ruflet  piles  to  lean  beneath : 
There  as  my  liftlefs  limbs  are  thrown 
On  couch  more  foft  than  palace  down ; 
I  liften  to  the  bufy  found 
Of  mirth  and  toil  that  hums  around; 
And  fee  the  team  {brill-tinkling  pafs, 
Alternate  o'er  the  furrow'd  grafs. 

But  ever,  after  fummer-fhow'r, 
When  the  bright  fun's  returning  pow'r, 
With  laughing  beam  has  chas'd  the  florm, 
And  cheer'd  reviving  nature's  form ; 
By  fweet-brier  hedges,  bath'd  in  dew, 
Let  me  my  wholelome  path  purfue  ; 
There  iffuing  forth  the  frequent  fnail, 
Wears  the  dank  way  with  flimy  trail, 
XVhile  as  I  walk,  from  pearled  bufh, 
The  funny-fparkling  drop  I  brufh, 
And  all  the  landfcape  fair  I  view 
Clad  in  robe  of  freflier  hue  ; 
And  fo  loud  the  black -bird  (ings, 
That  far  and  near  the  valley  rings. 
From  fhelter  deep  of  fliaggy  rock 
The  ftiepherd  drives  his  joyful  flock  ; 
From  bowering  beech  the  mower  blithe 
With  new-born  vigour  grafps  the  fcythe  ; 
While  o'er  the  fmooth  unbounded  meads 
His  laft  faint  gleam  the  rainbow  fpreads. 

But  ever  againft  rcfllefs  heat, 
Bear  me  to  the  rock-arch'd  feat, 
O'er  whofe  dim  mouth  an  ivy'd  oak 
Hangs  nodding  from  the  low-b.ow'd  rock; 
Haunted  by  that  chafle  nymph  alone, 
Whofe  waters  cleave  the  fmoothed  ftone ; 
Which,  as  they  gum  upon  the  ground, 
Still  fcatter  mifty  dews  around  : 
A  ruftic,  wild,  grotefque  alcove, 
Its  fide  with  mantling  woodbines  wove; 
Cool  is  the  cave  where  Cilo  dwells, 
Whence  Helicon's  frefli  fountain  wells ; 
Or  noon-tide  grot  where  fylvan  fleeps 
In  hoar  Lycseum's  piny  ftceps. 

Me,  goddefs,  in  fuch  cavern  lay, 
While  all  without  is  fcorch'd  in  day ; 
Sore  fighs  tha  weary  fwain,  beneath 
His  with'ring  hawthorn  on  the  heath; 
Tfie  drooping  hedger  wifhes  eve, 
In  vain,  of  labour  fhort  reprieve ! 
Meantime,  on  Afric's  glowing  fands 
Smote  with  keen  heat,  the  trav'ller  {lands : 
Low  finks  his  heart,  while  round  his  eye 
Meafures  the  fcenes  that  boundlefs  lie, 
Ne'er  yet  by  foot  of  mortal  worn, 
Where  thirft,  wan  pilgrim,  walks  forlorn. 
How  does  he  wifli  ibme  cooling  wave 
To  flake  his  lips,  or  limbs  to  lave  ! 
And  thinks,  in  every  whifper  low, 
He  hears  a  btirfting  fountain  flow. 

Or  bear  me  to  yon  antique  wood, 
Dim  temple  of  fage  folitude  ! 
There  within  a  nook  moft  dark, 
Where  none  my  mufing  mood  may  mark ; 

VCL.  XI. 


Let  me  in  many  a  whifper'd  rite 
The  genius  old  of  Greece  invite, 
With  that  fair  wreath  my  brows  to  bina, 
Which  for  his  chofen  imps  he  twin'd, 
Well  nurtur'd  in  Pierian  lore, 

On  clear  Iliflus  laureate  iliore 

Till  high  on  waving  neft  reclin'd, 
The  raven  wakes  my  tranced  mind  ! 

Or  to  the  foreft-fringed  vale, 
Where  widow'd  turtles  love  to  wail, 
Where  cowflips  clad  in  mantle  meek, 
Nod  their  tall  heads  to  breezes  weak  : 
In  the  midlt,  with  fedgesgray 
Crown'd,  a  fcant  riv'let  winds  its  way, 
And  trembling  through  the  weedy  wreaths, 
Around  an  oozy  freQinefs  breathes. 
O'er  the  folitary  green, 
Nor  cot,  nor  loitering  hind  is  feen: 
Nor  aught  alarms  the  mute  repofe, 
Save  that  by  fits  an  heifer  lows: 
A  fcene  might  tempt  fome  peaceful  fage 
To  rear  him  a  lone  hermitage  ; 
Fit  place  his  penfive  eld  might  choofe 
On  virtue's  holy  lore  to  mule. 

Yet  (till  the  fultry  noon  t'  appeafe 
Some  more  romantic  fcene  might  pleafe; 
Or  fairy  bank,  or  magic  lawn, 
By  Spenfer's  laviflj  pencil  drawn. 
Or  bow'r  in  Vallambrofa's  lliade, 
B>  legendary  pens  pourtray'd. 
Halte  let  me  flirowd  from  painful  light, 
On  that  hoar  hill's  aerial  height, 
In  folemn  (late,  where  waving  wide, 
Thick  pines  with  dark'ning  umbrage  hide 
The  rugged  vaults,  and  riven  tow'rs 
Of  that  proud  caitle's  painted  bow'rs, 
Whence  Hardyknute,  a  baron  bold, 
In  Scotland's  martial  days  of  old, 
Defcended  from  the  ftately  feaft, 
Begirt  with  many  a  warrior  gueft, 
To  quell  the  pride  of  Norway's  king, 
With  quiv'ring  lance  and  twanging  Itring, 
As  through  the  caverns  dim  I  wind, 
Might  I  that  holy  legend  find, 
Bv  fairies  fpeit  in  myftic  rhymes, 
To  teach  inquiring  later  times, 
What  open  force,  or  fecret  guile, 
Dam'd  into  duft  the  folemn  pile. 

But  when  mild  morn  in  faffron  ftole 
Firlt  iffues  from  her  eaftern  goal, 
Let  not  my  dye  feet  fail  to  climb 
Some  breezy  lumrrfu's  brow  fublime,   . 
Whence  nature's  univerfal  face, 
lllumin'd  fmiles  with  new-born  grace  ; 
The  mifty  dreams  that  wind  below, 
With  filver-fparkling  lufh-e  glow  ; 
The  groves  and  caftled  cliffs  appear 
Invelted  all  in  radiance  clear; 
O  '••  every  village  charm  beneath  ! 
The  fmoke  that  mounts  in  azure  wreath  I 
O  beauteous  rural  interchange  1 
Thf  fimple  fpire,  and  elmy  grange  ! 
Content,  indulging  blifsful  hours, 
Whiitles  o'er  the  fragrant  rlovv'rs, 
\nd  cattle  rouz'd  to  pafture  new, 
Shake  jocund  from  their  fides  the  dew. 
3  Z 


1090 

'Tis  tliou  alone,  O  Summer  mild, 
Canft  bid  me  carol  wood-notes  wild: 
Whene'er  I  view  thy  gennil  fcenes, 
Thy  waving  woods,  embroider'd  gre-.-.s, 
What  fires  within  my  bofom  wake, 
How  glows  my  mind  .the  reed  to  take  ! 
What  charms  like  thine  the  mufe  can  call, 
With  whom  'tis  youth  and  laughter  ail ; 
With  whom  each  field's  a  paradife. 
And  all  the  globe  a  bow'r  of  blifs  1 
With  thre  converting  all  the  day, 
J  meditate  my  lightfome  lay. 
Thrfe  pedant  cloifters  let  me  leave, 
To  breathe  my  votive  fong  at  eve. 
In  valley*  where  mild  whifpers  ufe, 
Of  lhadc  and  ftream,  to  court  the  mufe, 
While  wand'ring  o'er  the  brook's  dim  verge, 
I  hear  the  ftock-dovc's  dying  dirge. 

But  when  life's  bufier  fcene  is  o'er, 
And  age  (hall  give  the  treffes  hoar, 
I'd  fly  foft  luxury's  marble  dome, 
And  make  an  humble  thatch  my  home, 
Which  Hoping  hills  around  enclofe, 
Where  many  a  beech  and  brown  oak  grows; 
Beneath  vvhofe  dark  and  branching  bow'rs 
Its  tides  a  far-fam'd  river  pours  : 
By  nature's  beauties  taught  to  pleafe, 
Sweet  Tufculane  of  rural  eafe  ! 
Still  grot  of  peace  1  in  lowly  fhed 
Who  loves  to  reft  her  gentle  head. 
For  not  the  fcenes  of  Attic  art 
Can  comfort  care,  or  footh  the  heart : 
Nor  burning  cheek,  nor  wakeful  eye, 
For  gold,  and  Tyrian  purple  fly. 

Thither,  kind  Heav'n,  in  pity  lent, 
Send  me  a  little,  and  content ; 
The  faithful  friend,  and  cheerful  night, 
The  focial  fcene  of  dear  delight : 
The  confcience  pure,  the  temper  gay, 
The  muiing  eve,  and  idle  day. 
Give  me  beneath  cool  (hades  to  fit, 
Rapt  with  the  charms  of  claffic  wit; 
To  catch  the  bold  heroic  flame, 
That  built  imruortal  Grsecia's  fame. 
Nor  let  me  fail,  meantime,  to  raife 
The  folemn  fong  to  Britain's  praife  : 
To  fpurnthe  fhepherd's.fimple  reeds 
And  paint  heroic  ancient  deeds  : 
To  chaunt  fam'd  Arthur's  magic  tale, 
And  Edward,  item  in  fable  mail ; 
Or  wand'ring  Brutus'  lawlefs  doom, 
Or  brave  Bon?iuca,  fcourge  of  Rome. 

O  ever  to  fweet  poefy, 
Let  me  live  true  votary  I 
She  mail  lead  me  by  the  hand, 
Queen  of  fweet  fmiles,  and  folace  bland  ! 
She  from  her  precious  (lores  fhall  fhed 
Ambrolial  flow'rets  o'er  my  head  : 
She,  from  my  tender  youthful  cheek 
Can  wipe,  with  lenient  finger  meek, 
The  fecret  and  unpitied  tear. 
Which  ftill  I  drop  in  darknefs  drear. 
She  fhall  be  my  blooming  b'ride, 
With  her,  as  years  fucceffive  glide, 
I'll  hold  divineft  dalliance, 
Forever  held  in  holy  trance. 


THE    WORKS   OF  WART  ON. 


ODE  FOR  MUSIC, 

As  performed  at  the  Theatre  in  Oxford,  on  the 
id  of  July 17  Ji.  Being  the  Anniiierfary  ap 
pointed  by  the  late  Lord  Crew,  Biftwp  of  Dnr. 
ham.  for  the  Commemoration  of  Benefutfors  to 
the  Uni-vcrfity. 

'  Quique  facerdotes  cafti,  dum  vita  manebat  ; 
1  Qnique  pii  vates,  ct  Phcebo  digna  locuti ; 

Inventas  ant  qui  vitam  excoluere  per  artes  ; 

Quique  iui  memores  alios  fecere  merendo  ; 

Omnibus  his" VIRG. 

RECITATIVE  ACCOMP. 

WHERE  (hall  the  mufe,  that  on  the  facred  fhell, 

Of  men  in  arts  and  arms  renown'd, 
The  folemn  ftrain  delights  to  fwell; 
Oh  1  where  fhall  Clio  choofe  a  race, 
Whom  fame  with  every  laurel,  every  grace, 
Like  thofe  of  Albion's  envied  ifle,  has  crown'd  ? 

CHORUS. 
Daughter  and  miftrefs  of  the  fea, 

Ail-honourM  Albion  hail '. 

Where'er  thy  commerce  fpreads  the  fwelling  fail,. 
Ne'er  (hall  (he  find  a  land  like  thee, 
So  brave,  fo  learned,  and  fo  free  ; 
All-honour'd  Albion,  hail  1 
RECITATIVE. 
But  in  this  princely  land  of  all  that's  good  and 

great, 

Would  Clio  feek  the  moft  diftinguifh'd  feat, 
Mott  bleft,  where  all  is  fo  fublimely  bleft, 
That  with  fuperior  grace  o'erlooksthe  reft, 
Like  a  rich  gem  in  circling  gold  enfhrin'd; 

AIR  I. 

Where  Ifis'  waters  wind 
Along  the  fweeteft  fliore, 
That  ever  felt  fair  culture's  hands, 
Or  Spring's  embroider'd  mantle  wore, 
Lo  !  where  majeftic  Oxford  Hands  ; 

CHORUS. 

Virtue's  awful  throne ! 
Wifdom's  immortal  fource  1 

RECITATIVE. 

Thee  well  her  bed  belov'd  may  boafting  Albion 

own, 

Whence  each  fair  purpofe  of  ingenious  praife, 
All  that  in  thought  or  deed  divine  is  deem'd, 

In  one  unbounded  tide,  one  unremitted  courfe, 
F,iom  age  to  age  has  ftill  fucceffive  ftream'd ; 
Where  learning  and  where  liberty  have  iiurft, 
For  thofe  that  in  their  ranks  have  (hone  the  firft, 

Theirmoftluuxriant  growth  of  e ver-blooming  bays. 

RECITATIVE    ACCOMP. 

In  ancient  days,  when  (he,  the  queen  endu'd 
With  more  than  female  fortitude, 

Bonduca  led  her  painted  ranks  to  fight; 

Oft  times,  in  adamantine  arms  array'd, 

Pallas  defcended  from  the  realms  of  light, 

Imperial  Britonefs  !  thy  kindred  aid. 

As  once,  all-glowing  from  the  well-fought  day, 
The  goddefs' fought  a  cooling  ftream, 

By  chance,  inviting  with  their  glaffy  gleam, 

Fair  Ifis  waters  flow'd  not  far  away. 


MISCELLANIES 


Eager  3ie  view'd  trie  wave,  • 

On  the  cool  bank  (lie  bar'ci  her  breafl, 
To  the  foft  gale  her  locks  ambrofial  gave  ; 
And  thus  the  wat'ry  nymph  addrelt: 

AIR  II. 

"  Hear,  gentle  nymph,  whoe'er  thju  art, 
"  Thy  fweet  refreshing  ftoies  impart : 
"  A  goddefs  from  thy  moffy  brink 
"  Afks  of  thy  cryltal  ftream  to  drink  : 
"  'Lo  !   Pallas  afks  the  friendly  gilt; 
"  Thy 'coral-crowned  tr?  fles  lift, 
"  Rile  from  the  wave,  propitiou>  pow'r. 
"  O  liften  from,  thy  pearly  bow'r." 

RECITATIVE- 

Her  accents  His  calm  attention  caught, 

As  lonefome  in  her  fecret  cell, 
In  ever-varying  hues,  as  mimic  fancy  taught, 

She  rang'd  the  many-tin<£lur'd  (hell : 
Then  from  her  work  arofe  the  Nais  mild  ; 

AIR    III. 

She  rofe,  and  fweetly  fmil'd 
VVith  many  a  lovely  look, 
That  whifper'd  foft  confent : 

RtCITATIVE. 

She  fmil'd,  and  gave  the  goddefs  in  her  flood 
To  dip  her  calk,  though  dy'd  in  recent  blood  j 
While  Pallas,  as  the  boon  flie  took, 
Thus  pour'd  the  grateful  fentiment : 

AIR  IV. 

"  For  this  thy  flood  the  faireft  name 

"  Of  all  Britannia's  Itreams  fliall  glide, 

:"  Beit  fav'rite  of  the  ions  of  fame, 

"  Of  ev'ry  tuneful  breaft  the  pride  ; 

"  For  on  thy  borders,  bounteous  queen, 

"  Where  now  the  cowflip  paints  the  green 

"  With  unregarded  grace, 
"  Her  wanton  herds  where  nature  feeds, 
"  As  lonefome  on  the  breezy  reeds 

"  She  bends  her  filent  pace  ; 
"  Lo  !  there,  to  wifdom's  goddefs  dear, 
"  A  far-fam'd  city  fhall  her  turrets  rear, 

RECITATIVE. 

"  There  all  her  force  fliall  Pallas  prove  ; 
"  Of  clalfic  leaf  with  every  crown, 
"  Each  olive,  meed  of  old  renown, 
"  Each  ancient  wreath,  xvhich  Athens  wove, 
"  I'll  bid  her  blooming  bow'rs  abound  ; 
"  And  Oxford's  facred  feats  fliail  tow'r 
"  To  thee,  mild  NaVs  of  the  flood, 
*'  The  trophy  of  niy  gratitude  ! 
".The  temple  of  juj  pow'i  1" 

RECITATIVE; 

Nor  was  the  pious  promile  vain  ; 

Soon  illuftnous  Alfred  came, 
And  pitch'd  fair  wifdom's  tent  on  Ifis'  plenteous 

plain. 
Alfred,  on  thee  fliall  all  the  mufes  wait, 

AIR  V.    AND  CHORUS. 

Alfred>  majeftic  name, 

Of  all  oar  praife  the  fpring  ! 

1  hee  all  thy  fons  fliall  Gng, 
Deck'd  with  the  martial  and  the  civic  wreath 
In  notes  mr>ft  awful  fhall  the  trumpet  breath 
To  thee,   great  Romulus  of  learning's    richeft 

ft  ate. 


RECITATIVE. 

Nor  Alfred's  bounteous  hand  alone, 
Oxford,  thy  rifing  temples  own  : 
Soon  many  a  fage  munificent, 
The  prince,  the  prelate,  laurel-crowned  crowd, 

Their  ample  bounty  lent 
To  build  the  beauteous  monument, 
That  Pallas  vow'd. 

RECITATIVE  ACCOMP. 

And  now  (he  lifts  her  head  fublime, 

Majeftic  in  the  mofs  of  time  ; 

Nor  wants  there  Grecia's  better  part; 

'Mid  the  proud  piles  of  ancient  art. 

Whole  fretted  fpires,  with  ruder  hand, 

Wainflet  and  VVickham  bravely  plann'd; 

Nor  decent  Doric  to  difpenfe 

New  charms  'mid  old  magnificence  ; 

And  here  and  there  foft  Corinth  weaves 

Her  daedal  coronet  of  leaves ; 

DUET.  [the  fky, 

While,  as  with  rival  pride  their  tew'rs  invade 
RadclifFe  and  Bodley  feern  to  vie, 
Which  fliall  deferve  the  foremoft  place, 
Or  Gothic  ftrength,  or  Attic  grace. 

RECITATIVE. 

Olfis!   ever  will  I  chaunt  thy  praife  : 

Not  that  thy  fons  have  ftruck  the  golden  lyre 

With  hands  moft  ikilful  •    have  their  brows  en- 

twin'd 

With  every  faireft  flower  of  Helicon, 
The  fweeteft  fwans  of  all  th'  harmonious  choir  j 

And  bade  the  mufing  mind 
Of  every  fcience  pierce  the  pathlefs  ways, 
And  from  the  rett  the  wreath  of  wifdom  vron ; 

AIR  VI. 

But  that  thy  fons  have  dar'd  to  feel 
For  freedom's  caufe  a  facred  zeal; 
With  Britifli  breaft,  and  patriot  pride, 
Have  fttll  corruption's  cup  defy'd ; 
In  dangerous  days  untaught  to  fear. 
Have  held  the  name  of  honour  dear. 

RECITATIVE. 

But  chief  on  this  illuftrious  day, 
The  mufe  herloudeft  Pxans  loves  to  pay. 
Ereuhile  (he  ftrove  with  accents  weak 
In  vain  to  build  the  lofty  rhyme  ; 
At  length,  by  better  days  of  boitnty  cheer'd, 
She  dares  unfold  her  wing. 

AIR  VII. 

Hail  hour  of  tranfport  moft  fublime  '. 

In  which,  the  man  rever'd, 
Immortal  Crew  commands  to  fing, 
And  gives  the  pipe  to  breathe,  the  firing- to  Ipeal*, 

CHORUS.' 

Eleft  prelate,  hail ! , 
Moft  pious  patron,  moft  triumphant  theme  •• 

From  whole  aufpicioui  hand 
On  Ids'  tow'rs  new  beauties- beam, 
New  praife  her  nuifmg  fathers  gain  ;  . 
Immortal  Crew  '. 
Eleft  prelate,  hail ! 

RECITATIVE. 

E'en  now  fir'd  fancy  fees  thee  lead 
To  fame's  high-feated  fane 

The  fliouting  band  1 
O'er  every  hallowed  head 

32  u 


K59t  THE  WORKS 

Fame's  choiceft  wrenHis  (he  fees  theefpread: 
Alfredjfuperior  (miles  the  folemn  fcene  to  view; 

AIR  vnr. 
And  bids  the  goddefs  lift 

Her  loudeft  irumpet  to  proclaim, 
O  Crew,  tny  confecrated  gift, 
Asd  echo  with  his  own  in  Ibcial  (trains  thy  name. 
[Chorus  repeated. 

ODE 

FOR    THE    NEW-YEAR,    1786*. 

"  DEAR  to  Jove,  a  genk.i  ifie, 
"  Crowns  the  broad  Atlantic  u~avi; 
"  The  fpMbns  there  in  mild  aflemblage  fmile, 
•'  And  vernal  blofibms  clothe  the  fruitful  prime: 

"    There,  in  many  a  fragrant  cave, 

"  Dwell  the  fpirits  of  the  brave, 
"  And  braid  with  amaranth  their  brows  fublime." 

So  feiijn'd  the  Grecian  bards  of  yore  ; 
And  veil'd  in  fable's  fancy-woven  veft 

A  vifionary  ihore, 

That  faintly  gieam'd  on  their  prophetic  eye 
Through  the  dark  volume  of  futurity  : 
Nor  knew  that  in  the  bright  attire  they  dreft 

Albion,  the  green-hair'd  heroine  of  the  weft : 
Ere  yet  (lie  claim'd  old  ocean's  high  command, 
And  fnatch'd  the  trident  from  the  15  rant's  hand. 

Vainly  fiow'd  the  myftic  rhyme  ? 

Mark  the  deeds  from  age  to  age, 

That  fill  her  trophy-piclur'd  page  : 

And  fee,  with  all  its  itrength,  untam'd  by  time, 
Still  glows  her  valour's  veteran  rage, 
O'er  Calpe's  cliffs,  and  fteepy  tow'rs, 
When  ftream'd  the  red  fulphureons  flinwers, 

And  death's  own  hand  the  dread  artillery  threw  ; 
While  far  along  the  midnight  main 

Its  glaring  arch  the  flaming  volley  drew: 
How  triumph'd  Elliot's  patient  train, 
Baffling  tbeir  vain  confederate  foes! 

And  met  the  unwonted  right's  terrific  form  ; 

And  hurling  back  the  burning  war,  arofe 
Superior  to  the  fiery  Itorm  ! 

Js  there  an  ocean,  that  forgets  to  roll 
Beneath  the  torpid  pole ; 

Nor  to  the  brooding  tempeft  heaves  ? 
Her  hardy  keel  the  ftubborn  billow 'cleaves, 
The  rugged  Neptune  of  the  wintr'y  brine 
In  vain  his  adamantine  breaft-plate  wears; 

To  fearch  coy  nature's  guarded  »ine, 
She  burfts  the  barriers  of  th'  indignant  ice  ; 
O'er  funlefs  bays  the  beam  of  fcience  bears  : 
And  rouzing  far  around  the  polar  deep, 

Where  Drake's  bold  enfigns  fear'd  to  fweep, 
She  Cees  new  nations  flock  to  fome  fell  facrifice. 

She  fpeeds,  at  George's  Cage  command, 

Society  from  deep  to  deep, 

And  zone  to  zone  flie  binds; 
From  more  to  (bore,  o'er  every  land, 
The  golden  chain  of  commerce  winds. 

Meantime  her  patriot- cares  explore 
Her  own  rich  woof 's  exhauftleis  ftore  ; 

*  The  author  ban?  Poet  Laurcat. 


OF  WARTON. 

Her  native  fleece  new  fervour  feels, 
And  wakens  all  its  whirling  wheels, 
And  mocks  the  rainbow's  radiant  dye  ; 
More  wide  the  labours  of  the  loom  (he  fpreads. 
In  firmer  bands  domeftic  commerce  weds, 
And  calls  her  fifrer-ifle  to  (hare  the  tie  : 

Nor  heeds  the  violence  that  broke 
From  filial  realms  her  old  parental  yoke  ! 

H'-r  cities,  throng'd  with  many  an  Attic  dome, 
Afk  not  the  banner'd  baftion,  maffy  proof; 

Firm  as  the  caftle'f  feudal  roof, 

Stapds  the  Briton's  focial  home. — 
Hear,  Gaul,  of  England's  liberty  the  lot ! 
Right,  order,  law,  protect  her  funpleft  plain  ; 
Norfcorn  to  guard  the  fhepherd's  nightly  fold. 

And  watch  around  the  foreft  cot. 

With  confcious  certainty,  the  fwain 

Gives  to  the  ground  his  trurted  grain, 
With  eager  hope  the  reddening  harvelt  eyes;    , 

And  claims  the  reap  autumnal  gold, 
The  meed  of  toil,  of  induftry  the  prize. 
For  ours  the  king,  who  boafts  a  parent's  praife, 

Whofe  hand  the  people's  fleptre  fways; 
Ours  is  the  fenate,  not  a  fpecious  name, 
Whofe  active  plans  pervade  the  civil  frame, 
Where  bold  debate  its  nobleft  war  difplays, 
An^4,  in  the  kindling  ftrife,  unlocks  the  tide 
Of  manlieit  eloquence,  and  rolls  the  torrent  wide. 

Hence  then,  each  vain  complaint,  away, 

Each  captious  doubt,  and  cautious  fear  1 

Nor  blaft  the  new-born  year, 
That  anxious  waits  the  Spring's  flow-fliooting  ray' 
Nor  deem  that  Albion's  honours  ceafe  to  bloom. 

With  candid  glance  th'  impartial  mufe 

Invok'd  on  this  aufpicious  morn, 
The  prefent  leans,  the  dinant  fcene  purfues, 
And  breaks  opini-m's  fpeculative  gloom  : 
Interpreter  of  ages  yet  unborn, 
Full  right  (he  fpells  the  characlers  of  fate, 
That  Albion  (till  fhallktfp  her  wonted  ftate ! 

Still,  in  eternal  ftory,  ihine, 

Of  victory  the  foa-beat  ihrine  ; 

The  fource  of«every  fplendid  art,     • 
Of  old,  of  future  worlds,  the  uuiverfal  mart. 

ODE 

FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1786. 

WHEN  freedom  nurs'd  her  native  fire 

In  ancient  Greece,  and  rul'd  the  lyre  ; 
Her  bards,  difdainful,  from  the  tyrant's  brow 

The  tinfel  gifts  of  flattery  tore  ; 
But  paid  to  guiltlels  power  their  willing  vow  : 

And  to  the  throne  of  virtuous  kings, 
Tempering  the  tone  of  their  vindictive  firings, 

From  truth's  unproftituted  (bore, 
The  fragrant  wreath  of  gratulation  bore. 

'Twas  thus  Alceus  fmote  the  manly  chord, 

And  Pindar  on  the  Perfian  lord 

His  notes  of  indignation  hurl'd, 
And  fpurn'd  the  minftrel  (laves  of  eaftern  fway, 
From  trembling  Thebes  extorting  confcious  ihame j 
But  o'er  the  diadem,  by  freedom's  flame 
Illum'd,  the  banner  of  renown  unfurl'd  : 

Thus  to  his  Hiero  decreed, 


MISCELLANIES. 


Mongft  the  bold  chieftains  of  the  Pythian  game, 
The  brighteft  verdure  of  Caftalia's  bay  ; 

And  gave  an  ampler  meed 
Of  Pifan  palms,  than  in  the  field  of  fame 
Were  wont  to  crown  the  car's  victorious  fpeed  : 
And  hail'd  his  fcepter'd  champion's  patriot  zeal, 
Who  mix'd  the  monarch's  with  the  people's  weal; 

From  civil  plans  who  claim'd  applaufe, 
And  train'd  obedient  realms  to  Spartan  laws. 

And  he,  fweet  mafter  of  the  Doric  oat, 
"  Theocritus  forfook  awhile 
The  graces  of  his  paftoral  ifle, 
The  lowing  vale,  the  bleating  cote, 
The  clufters  on  the  funny  fteep, 
And  Pan's  own  umbrage,  dark  and  deep, 
The  caverns  hung  with  ivy-twine, 
The  cliffs  that  wav'd  with  oak  and  pine, 
And  Etna's  hoar  romantic  pile  : 
And  caught  the  bold  Homeric  note, 
In  ftately  founds  exalting  high 
The  reign  of  bounteous  Ptolemy  : 
Like  the  plenty  teeming  tide 
Of  his  own  Nile's  redundant  flood, 
O'er  the  cheer'd  nations  far  and  wide, 

Diffufing  opulence  and  public  good  : 
While  in  the  richly -warbled  lays 
Was  blended  Berenice's  name, 
Pattern  fair  of  female  fame, 
Softening  with  domeitic  life 
Imperial  fplendour's  dazzling  rays, 
The  queen,  the  mother,  and  the  wife  ! 

To  deck  with  honour  due  thisfeflal  day, 
O  for  a  (train  from  theie  fublimer  bards ! 
Who  free  to  gr^nt,  yet  fearlels  to  refufe 
Their  awful  fuftrage,  with  impartial  aim 
Invok'd  the  jealous  panegyric  mufe  ; 
.Nor,  but  to  genuine  worth's  feverer  claim, 

Their  proud  diftindtiou  deign'd  to  pay, 
Stern  arbiter-,  of  glory's  blight  awards  '.-• 

For  petrlefs  baidslike  theie  alone, 

Theb;<rdsot  Greece  might  bell  adorn, 
With  fec»ly  fong,  the  monarch's  natal  morn; 
Wrho,  thron'd  in  the  magnificence  of  peace, 

Rivals  their  richeft  regal  theme  ; 

Who  rules  a  people  like  their  own,' 

In  arms,  in  polilh'd  arts  fupreme  ; 

Who  bids  his  Britain  vie  with  Greece. 

ODE 

FOR   THT  NEW-YEAR,  1787. 

IN  rough  magnivicence  array'd, 

When  ancient  chivalry  difplay'd 

The  pomp  of  her  heroic  games  ; 

And  crefted  chiefs  and  titfued  dames,' 

Allcmbled  at  the  clarion's  call, 

In  .me  proud  cattle's  high-arch'd  hall 
To  grace  romantic  glory's  genial  rites: 
Aflbciate  of  the  gorgeous  r'eftival, 

The  minftrei  ftruck  his  kindred  firing, 

And  told  of  many  a  fteel-clad  king, 
Who  to  the  tourney  train'd  his  hardy  knights ; 

Or  bore  the  radiant  redcrofs  iliield 

Mid  the  bold  peers  of  Sajena's  field} 


Who  travers'd  pagan  climes  to  quell 
The  wizard  foe's  terrific  (pell; 
In  rude  aftrnys  untaught  to  fear 
The  Saracen's  gigantic  fpear. 
The  lifleriing  champions  felt  the  fabling  rhyme 
With   fairy  trappings   fraught,  and   flit/ok   theif 
plumes  fubliine. 

Such  were  the  themes  of  regal  praife 

Dear  to  the  bard  of  elder  days  : 

The  fongs,  to  favage  virtue  dear, 

That  won  of  yore  the  public  ear  ! 

Eve  polity,  fedate  and  1'age, 

Had  quench'd  the  fires  of  feudal  rage. 
Had  fternm'dthe  torrent  of  eternal  Itrifr, 
And  charm'd  to  reft  an  unrelenting  age.— 

No  more,  informidable  ftate, 

The  caftle  fliuts  its  thund-ering  gate  ; 
New  colours  fuit  the  fcenes  of  toften'd  life  ; 

No  more,  beftriding  barbed  fteeds, 

Adventurous  valour  idly  bleeds : 
And  now  the  bard  in  alter'd  tones, 
A  theme  of  worthier  triumph  owns : 
By  focial  imagery  beguil'd, 

.  He  moulds  his  harp  to  manners  mild  ; 

Nor  longer  weaves  the  wreath  of  war  alone, 
Nor  hails  the  hoitile  forms  that  grac'd   the  Go 
thic  throne. 

And  now  he  tuaes  his  plaufive  lay 
To  kings,  who  plant  the  civic  bay  ; 
V\  ho  choofe  the  patriot  fovereign's  part, 
Diftuling  commerce,  peace,  ai.d  art ; 
Who  tpread  the  virtuous  pattern  wide, 
And  triumph  in  a  nation's  pride  : 
Who  feek  coy  fcience  in  her  cloifter'd  nook, 
Where  Thames,  yet  rural,  rolls  an  artlefs  tide  ; 
Who  love  to  view  the  vale  divine  *, 
Where  revel  nature  and  the  nine, 
And  cluttering  towers  the  tufted  grove  o'erlook  ; 
To  kings  who  rule  a  filial  land, 
Who  claim  a  people's  vows  and  pray'rs, 
Should  treafon  arm  the  weakeft  hand  '. 
To  thefe,  his  heart-felt  praile  he  bears, 
And  with  new  rapture  hades  to  greet 
This  feilalmorn,  that  longs  to  meet, 
With  luckiett  aufpices,  the  laughing  fpring  ; 
And  opes  her  glad  career,  with  bleilings  on  her 
wing ! 

ODE 

ON  HIS  MAJESTY'S  iiRTH-UAT,  JUNK  4.  1787. 

THE  nobleft  bards  of  Albion's  choir. 
Have  (truck  of  old  this  feftal  lyre. 
Ere  fcieiice,  ftruggling  oft  in  vain, 
Hdd  dar'd  to  break  her  Gothic  chain, 
Victorious  Edward  gave  the  vernal  bough 
Of  Britain's  bay  to  bloom  on  Chaucer's  brow  : 
Fir'd  with  the  gift,  he  chang'd  to  founds  fubliiue 
His  Norman  minftrelfy's  dilcordant  chime  j 
In  tones  majeftic  hence  he  told 
The  banquet  of  Cambufcan  bold  ; 
And  oft  he  lung  (howe'er  the  rhyme 
Has  moulder'd  to  the  touch  of  time) 

*  Nunebam,  near  Oxford, 


THE   WORKS 


And 


His  martial  matter's  knightly  board, 
And  Arthur's  ancient  rites  reftor'd  : 
The  prince  in  fable  fteel  that  fternly  frown'd, 
nd  Gallia's  captive  king,  and  Crefly's  wreath 


rcnown'd. 


Won  from  the  fliepherd's  funple  meed, 
The  whifpers  wild  of  MullaN  reed, 
Sage  Spenfer  wak'd  his  lofty  lay 
To  grace  Eliza's  golden  fway  : 
O'er  the  proud  theme  new  lurlre  to  diffufe, 
He  chofe  the  gorgeous  allegoric  mufe. 
And  call'd  to  life  old  Uther's-  elfin  tale, 
And  rov'd  through  many  a  necromantic  vale, 
Pourtraying  chiefs  that  knew  to  tame 
The  goblin's  ire,  the  dragon's  flame, 
To  pierce  the  dark  enchanted  hail. 
Where  virtue  fate  in  lonely  thrall- 
From  fabling  Fancy's  inmoft  ftore 
A  rich  romantic  robe  lie  bore  ; 
A  veil  with  vifionary  trappings  hung, 
And  o'er  his  virgin-queen  the  fairy  texture  flung. 

At  length  the  matchlefs  Dryden  came, 
To  light  the  mufes'  clearer  flame  j 
To  lofty  numbers  grace  to  lend, 
And  ftrength  with  melody  to  blend  ; 
To  triumph  in  the  bold  career  of  for.g, 
And  roll  th'  unwearied  energy  along, 
Does  the  mean  incenfe  of  prowfcuous  praife, 
Does  fervile  fear  difgrace  his  regal  bays? 
I  fpurn  his  panegyric  firings, 
His  partial  homage,  tun'd  to  kings  '. 
Be  mine,  to  catch  his  manlier  chord, 
That  paints  th'  impaffion'd  Perlian  lord, 
By  glory  fir'd,  to  pity  fu'd, 
Rous'd  to  revenge,  by  love  fubclu'd  ; 
And  ftill,  with  tranfport  new,  the  ftrains  to  trace 
That   chaunt   the    Theban   pair,  and  Tancred' 
deadly  vafe. 

Had  thefe  bieft  bards  been  call'd  to  pay 
The  vows  of  this  aufpicious  day, 
Each  had  confefs'd  a  fairer  throne, 
A  mightier  fovereigti  than  his  own  '. 
Chaucer  had  bade  his  hero-monarch  yield 
The  martial  fame  of  Creffy's  well-fought  field 
To  peaceful  prowefs,  and  the  conquefts  calm, 
That  braid  the  fceptre  with  the  patriot's  palm  ; 
His  chaplets  of  fantaftic  bloom, 
His  colourings,  warm  from  fiction's  loom, 
Spenfer  had  caft  in  fcorn  away, 
And-  deck'd  with  truth  alone  the  lay  : 
All  real  here  the  bard  had  feen 
The  glories  of  his  pidtur'd  queen  ! 
The  tuneful  Dryden  had  not  flatter'd  here. 
His  lyre  had  blamelefs  been,  his  tribute  all  fin 
cere  ! 


ODE 

TOR  THE  NEW-YEAR,    1788. 

RUDE  was  the  pile,  and  marly  proof, 
That  firft  uprear'd  its  haughty  roof 
On  Windfor's  brow  fublime,  in  warlike  ftate  : 
The  Nprman  tyrant's  jealous  hand 


OF   WART  ON. 

The  giant  fabric  proudly  plami'ds 
With  recent  viclory  elate, 

•'  On  this  m'ajeftic  fteep,"  he  cried, 
"   A  regal  forrrefs,  threatening  wide, 
«'  Shall  tyre-ad  my  terrors  to  the  diftant  hills; 
"  Its  formidable  (hade  fhall  throw 
"  Far  o'er  the  broad  expanfe  below,' 
"  Where  winds  yon  mighty   flood,  and  amply 

*  fills 

"  AV'ith  flowery  verdure,  or  with  golden  grain, 
"  The  fairett  fields  that  deck  my  new  domain'. 
"  And  London's  towers,  that  reach  the  watch- 

"  mail's  eye, 
'  Shall    fee,   with    confcious  awe,    my  bulwark 
"  climb  the  fky." 

Uncharjfj'd,  through  many  a  hardy  race, 
Stood  the  rough  dome  on  fallen  grace; 
Still  on  its  angry  front  defiance  frown'd  ; 
Though  monarch's  kept  their  ftate  within, 
Still  numnur'd  with  the  martial  din 
,  The  gloomy  gateways  arch  profound  ; 
And  armed  forms,  in  airy  rows, 
Bent  o'er  the  battlements  their  bows, 
And  blood-itain'd  banners  crown'd  its  hoftile 

head  ; 

And  oft  its  hoary  ramparts  wore 
The  rugged  fears  of  conflict  tore; 
What    time,    paviiion'd   on   the  neighbouring 

mead, 

Th' indignant  barons  rang'd  in  bright  array 
Their  feudal  bands,  to  curb  defpotic  fway  ; 
And  leagu'd  a  Briton's  birth-right  to  reiloie, 
From  John's  reluctant  grafp  the  roll   of  freedom 
bore. 

When  lo,  the  king  that  wreath'd  his  fhield,  - 
With  lilies  pluck'd  on  Crefly's  field, 
Heav'd  from  its  bafe  the  mouldering  Norman 

frame  !—  . 

New  glory  cloth'd  th'  exulting  fteep, 
The  portals  tower'd  with  ampler  fweep  ; 
"     And  valour's  foften'd  genius  came, 

Here  held  his  pomp,  and  trail'd  the  pall 
Of  triumph  through  the  tropiiied  hall ; 
And  war  was  clad  a  while  in  gorgeous  weeds; 
Amid  the  martial  pageantries, 
While  beauty's  glance  adjudg'd  the  prize, 
And  beam'd  fweet  influence  on  heroic  deeds. 
Nor  long,  ere  Henry's  holy  zeal,  to  breathe 
A  milder  charm  upon  the  fcenes  beneath, 
Rear'd  in  the  watery  glade  his  clafTie  flirine, 
And  call'd  his  ftripling-chcir  lo   woo  the  willing 
nine. 

To  this  imperial  feat  to  lend 

Its  pride  iupreme,  and  nobly  blend 

Britifli  magnificence  with  Attic  art ; 
Proud  caftle,  to  thy  bannei'd  bowers, 
Lo  !  picture  bids  her  glowing  powers 
Their  bold  hifloric  groups  impart : 
She  bids  th'  illuminated  pane, 
Along  thy  lofty-vaulted  fane, 

Shed  the  dim  blaze  of  radiance  richly  clear.— 
••    .     Still  may  fach  arts  of  peace  engage 

Their  patron's  care  '.  But  fhould.the  rage 
.  Of  war  to  battle  roufe  the  new-born  year, 


MISCELLANIES. 


Britain  arife,  and  wake  the  (lumbering  fire, 
Vindi&ive  dart  thy  quick  rekindlin 
Or,  arnvd  to  llrike,  in  mercy  (pare  the  foe  ; 
And  lift  thy  thundering  hand,    and  then   with 
hold  the  blow  ! 

ODE 

ov  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1788. 

WHAT  native  genius  taught  the  Britons  bold 
To  guard  their  fea-girt  cliffs  of  old  ? 
'Twas  liberty  :  (he  taught  dit'dain 
Of  death,  of  Rome's  imperial  chain. 
She  bade  the  Druid  harp  to  battle  found, 
In  tones  prophetic,  through  the  gloom  profound 
Of  forefts  hoar,  with  holy  foliage  hung  ; 
From  grove  to  grove  the  pealing  prelude  rung  ; 
Belinus  call'd  his  painted  tribes  around, 

And,  rough  with  many  a  veteran  fear, 
Swept  the  pale  Isgions  with  the  fcythed  car, 

While  baffled  Csefarfled,  to  gain, 
An  eafier  triumph  on  Pharfalia's  pltvin; 
And  left  the  ftubborn  ifle  to  (land  elate 
Amidft  a  conquer'd  world,  in  lone  majeftic  ftate  '• 

A  kindred  fpirit  foen  to  Britain's  fliore 

The  fons  of  Saxon  Elva  bore  ; 

Fraught  with  th*  inconquerable  foul, 
'  Who  died  to  drain  the  warrior-bowl. 
In  that  bright  hall,  where  Odin's  Gothic  throne 
With    the    broad   blaze  of  brandiih'd    falchions 

flione ; 

Where  the  long  roofs  rebounded  to  the  din 
Of  fpeclre  chiefs,  who  feafted  far  within  : 
Yet,  not  intent  on  deathful  deeds  alone, 

They  felt  the  fires  of  focial  zeal. 
The  peaceful  wifdom  of  the  public  weal; 

Though  nurs'd  in  arms  and  rnrdy  ftrife. 
They  knew  to  frame  the  plans  of  temper'd  life  ; 
The  king's,  the  people's,  balanc'd  claims  to  found 
On  one  eternal  bafe,  indilTbiubly  bound. 

Sudden,  to  fliake  the  Saxons  mild  domain, 
Rufh'd  in  rude  ("warms  the  robber  Dane, 
From  frozen  waites  and  caverns  wild, 
To  genial  England's  fcenes  bepuii'd; 
And  in  his  clamorous  van  exulting  came 
The  demons  foul  of  famine  and  of  flame  : 
Witnefs  the  fheep-clad  lumniits,  roughly  crown'd 
\Vith  many  a  frowning  r'ofcanci  airy  mound, 
"Which  yet  his  deiultory  man  h  proclaim  ! — 

Nor  ceas'd  the  tide  of  gore  to  i\<j\v, 
Till  Alfred's  laws  ailur'd  th'  intt- (tine  foe  ; 

And  Harold  calm'd  his  headlong  rage 
To  brave  achievement  and  to  coi.niVl  Page; 
For  oft  in  lavage  breads  the  buried  Iceds 
Of  broodingvimie  live,  and  freedom's taireft  deeds! 

But  fee,  triumphant  o'er  the  fouthern  waves, 
The  Norman  fwceps ' — Though  IVrit  he  gave 
New  grace  to  Britain's  naked  plain, 
With  arts  and  manners  in  his  tram  ; 
And  many  a  tune  he  rear'd,  that  ftill  fublime 
In  maify  pomp  has  mock'd  the  ittralth  of  tiir.e  ; 
And  cattle  lair,  that,  flript  of  half  its  towers, 
From  fome  broad  deep  in  fhatter'd  glory  lours: 
rought  hf  llavei  v  Uoiu  a  lufter  dime  ; 


I      Each  eve,  the  curfew's  notes  fevere 
'That  now  but  fooths  the  mufing  poet's  ear) 

At  the  new  tyrant's  (tern  command, 
Warn'd  to  unwelcome  reft  a  wakeful  land  ; 
While  proud  oppreflion  o'er  the  ravifh'd  tkl  1 
High  raib'd  his  armed  hand,  and  fliouk  the  feudal 
fliield. 

Stoop'd  then  that  freedom  to  defpotic  fway, 

For  which  in  many  a  fierce  affray, 

The  Britons  bold,  the  Saxons  bled, 

His  Danifh  javelins  Lefwin  led 
O'er  Mailings,'  plain,  to  Hay  the  Norman  yoke  ? 
She  felt  but  to  refift  the  fudden  ftroke  : 
The  tyrant-baron  grafp'd  the  patriot-fteel, 
And  taught  the  tyrant-king  its  force  to  feel ; 
And  quick  revenge  the  regal  bondage  broke. 

Anil  ftill  unchang'd  and  uncontrolled, 
Its  refcued  rights  fhall  the  dread  empire  hold  : 

For  lo,  revering  Britain's  caufe, 
A  king  new  luflre  lends  to  native  laws  I 
The  facrcd  fovereignof  this  feftal  day 
On  Albion's  old  renown  refleds  a  kindred  ray  ! 

ODE 

OK  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  1789. 

As  when  the  demon  of  the  Summer-florm 

Walks  forth  the  noontide  landfcape  to  deform; 

Dark  grows  the  vale,  and  dark  the  dillant  grove, 
And  thick  the  bolts  of  angry  Jove 
Athwart  the  wat'ry  welkin  glide,. 

And  (treams  th'  aerial  torrent  far  and  wide  : 
If  by  (hort  fits  the  ftruggling  ray 
Should  dart  a  momentary  day, 
Th'  illuminV  mountain  glows  a  while, 
By  faint  degrees  the  radiant  glance 
Purples  th'  horizon's  pale  expanfe, 
And  gilds  the  gloom  with  hafty  fmile: 
Ah,  fickle  fmile,  too  fwiftly  pall ! 
Again  reiounds  the  f  weeping  blafl ; 
With  hoarfer  din  the  demon  howls, 
Again  the  blackening  concave  (cowls! 
Sudden,  the  (hades  of  the  meridian  night 
Yield  lo  the  triumph  of  rekindling  light : 
The  reddening  fun  regains  his  golden  fway, 

And  nature  Hands  reveai'd  in  all  her  bright  array. 

Such  was  the  changeful  conflict  that  poffefs'd, 
With  trembling  tumult  every  Britiih  breaft, 
When  Albion,  towering  in  the  van  fublime 
Of  glory's  march,  from  clime  to  clime 
i-miec!,  belov'd,  rever'd,  renow'd, 
Her  brows  with  every  blifsful  chaplet  bound  ; 
When,  in  her  mid  career  of  ftate, 
She  felt  her  monarch's  awful  fate  ! —  \ 

Till  mercy  from  th'  Almighty  throne 
Liok'd  iloxvn  on  man,  and  waving  wide 
Her  wreath,  that  in  the  rainbow  dy'd, 
With  hues  of  foften'd  luflre  (hone, 
And  bending  from  her  iapphire  cloud, 
O'er  regal  grief  benignant  bow'd  ; 
To  trunfport  turn'd  a  people's  fears, 
And  ftiiy'd  a  people's  tide  of  tears: 
Bade  thUbhftdawiuvithbeamsaufpiciofls  fpring 
With  ln,;,£  tereiii.-,  with  healing  in  its  wing  ; 
And  gave  a  fovereign  o'er  n.  grateful  land  [hand. 
Again  will;  vigorous  ^i'^'p  to  itretch  t'r.'-  fccpter'4 
3  Z   iiij 


THE   WORKS   OF  WARTON. 


O  favoured  king,  what  rapture  more  refin'd, 

What  mightier  joy  can  fill  the  human  mind,,  . 

Than  that  the  monarch's  confcious  bofom  feels, 
At  whofe  dread  throne  a  nation  kneels, 

And  hails  its  father,  friend,  and  lord, 

To  life's  career,  to  patroit  fway  f 
And  bids  the  loud  refporfive  voice 
Of  union  all  around  rejoice  ? 
For  thus  to  dice  when  Britons  bow, 

.    Warm  and  fpontaneous  from  the  heart, 
As  late  thrif  tears,  their  tranfports  ftart, 
And  nature  dictates  duty's  vow; 
To  thee,  recall'd  to  facred  health, 
Did  the  proud  city's  lavilh  wealth, 
Did  crowded  ftre«=ts  alone  difplay 
The  long-drawn  blaze,  the  feftal  ray  ? 

Meek  poverty  her  fcanty  cottage  grac'd, 

And  flung  her  gleam  acrofs  the  lonely  wafte  ! 

Th'  exulting  ifle  in  one  wide  triumph  ftrove, 
One  focial  facrifice  of  reverential  love. 

Such  pure  unprompted  praife  do  kingdoms  pay 
Such  willing  zeal,  to  thrones  of  lawlefs  fway  ? 
Ah  !  how  unlike  the  vain  the  venal  lore 
To  Latian  rulers  dealt  of  yore, 
O'er  guilty  pomp,  and  hated  power, 
When  (tream'd  the  fparkiing  panegyric  fliower: 
And  flaves  to  fovereigns  unendear'd 
Their  pageant  trophies  coldly  rear'd! 
For  are  the  charities  that  blend 
Monarch  to  man,  to  tyrants  known? 
The  tender  ties  that  to  the  throne 
A  mild  domeitic  glory  lend; 
Of  wedded  love  the  league  fincere, 
The  virtuous  confort's  faithful  tear! 
Nor  this  the  verfe  that  flattery  brings, 
Nor  here  I  ftrike  a  fyren  firings;  [mufe, 

Here,  kindling  with  her  country's  warmth,  the 
Her  country's  proud  triumphant  theme  purfues  : 
Ev'n  needlefs  here  the  tribute  of  her  lay  '  — 
Albion  the  garland  gives  on  this  diftinguifli'd  day. 

ODE 
FOR  HIS  MAJESTY'S  BIRTH-DAY,  JUNE  4.  179x3. 


IV  what  fountain's  craggy  cell 
Delights  the  goddefs  health  to  dwell? 
V/here  from  the  rigid  roof  diftiis 
Her  richert  ftream  in  fteely  rilli? 
What  mineral  gems  entwine  her  humid  locks? 
Loj  fparkling  high  from  potent  fprir.gs, 
To  Britain's  fons  her  cup  (he  brings  ! 
Romantic  matlockj  are  thy  tufted  rocks, 
Thy  fring'd  declivities,  the  dim  retreat 
Where  the  coy  nymph  has  fix'd  her  favourite 

feat, 

And  hears,  reclin'd  along  the  thundering  fliore, 
Indignant  Darwent's  del'ultory  tide 

His  rugged  channel  rudely  chide  ? 
Barwent,  whofe  lliaggy  wreath  is  ftain'd  with 
JDanifli  gore  ! 


Or  does  fhe  drefs  her  Na'iad  cave 
With  coral  fpoils  from  Neptune's  wave» 
•    And  hold  fhort  revels  with  the  train 

Of  nymphs  that  tread  the  neighb'ring  main-} 
And  from  the  cliffs  of  Avon's  cavern'd  fide, 
Temper  the  balmy  beverage  pure. 
That  fraught  with  "  drops  of  precious  cure," 
Brings  back  to  trembling  hope  the  drooping 

bride; 

That  in  the  virgin's  cheek  renews  the  rofe, 
And  wraps  the  eye  of  pain  in  quick  repofe  ! 
While  oft  fhe  climbs  the  mountain's  fhelving 

fteeps, 
And  call.-  her  votaries  wan,  to  catch  the  gale 

That  breathes  o'er  Afhton's  elmy  vale, 
And  from  the  Cambrian  hills  the  billowy  Severn 
fweeps. 

Or  broods  the  nymph  with  watchful  wing 
O'er  ancient  Badon's  myftic  fpring? 
And  fpeeds  from  its  fulphureous  fource 

The  fteamy  torrent's  fecret  courfe  ; 

And  fans  th'  eternal  -(parks  of  hidden  fire, 
In  deep  unfathom'd  beds  below 
By  Bladud's  magic  taught  to  glow, 

Bladud,  high  theme  of  fancy's  Gothic  lyre  '. 

Or  opes  the  healing  power  her  chofen  fount 

In  the  rich  veins  of  Malvern's  ample  mount 

From  whofe  tall  ridge  the  noontide  wanderer 
views 

Pomona's  purple  realm,  in  April's  pride, 

Its  blaze  of  bloom  expanding  wide, 
And  waving  groves  array 'd  in  Flora's  faireft  hues. 

Haunts  (he  the  fcene  where  nature  lowers 
O'er  Buxton's  heath  in  lingering  mowers? 
Or  loves  fhe  more,  with  fandal  fleet, 
In  matin  dance  the  nymphs  to  meet 
That  on  the  flowery  marge  of  Chelder  play  ? 
Who  boaftful  of  the  ftately  train 
That  deign'd  to  grace  this  fimple  plain,     — 
Late,  with  new  pride,  along  his  reedy  way, 
Bore  to  Sabrina  wreaths  of  brighter  hue, 
Andmark'dhispaftoial  urn  with  emblemsnew— 
Howe'er  thefe  ftreams  ambrofial  may  detain 
Thy  (teps,  O  genial  health,  yet  not  alone 

Thy  gifts  the  Naiad-filters  own  ; 
Thine  too  the  briny  flood,  and  ocean's  hoar  domain. 

And  lo  !   amid  the  watery  roar, 

In  1  hetis'  car  fhe  (kirns  the  (hare ; 

Where  Portland's  brows  embattled  high 

With  rocks,  in  rugged  majefty 
Frown  o'er  the  billowy  and  the  ftorm  reftrain 

She  beckons  Britain's  fcepter'd  pair 

Her  treafures  of  the  deep  to  (hare  I— 
Hail  then,  on  this  glad  morn  the  mighty  main  ! 
Which  lends  the  boon  divii.e  of  lengthen 'd  days 
To  thofe  who  wear  the  nobleft  regal  bays: 
That  mighty  main,  which  on  itsconfcious  tide, 
Their  boundiels  commerce  pours  on  every  clime, 

Their  dauntlefs  banner  bears  fublime  ; 
Which  wafts  their  pomp  of  war  and  fpreads  tbeil 
thunder  wide  I 


P  O  £  M  A  T  A, 


P  O  E  M  A  T  A. 


MONS  CATHARINE, 

PROPE    WINTON1AM. 

AESII  Catharina  jugi  qua  vcrtice  fummo, 
Danorum  vcteres  foffas,  immania  caftra, 
Et  circumdudi  fervat  veftigia  valli; 
Wiccamicse  mas  eft  pubi,  cckbrare  palasftras 
Multiplies,  paflimque  levi  contendere  lufu, 
Fefta  dies  quoties  rediit,  conceffaque  rite 
Otia,  purpureoque  ruhentes  lumine  foles, 
Invitant,  tetricx  curas  Icnire  Minervae, 
Librorumque  moras,  et  iniqua  remittere  penfa. 

Ergo,  Cecropise  quales  aftate  cohortes, 
Siquando  ceras,  nondumque  tenacia  linquunt 
Mella  vagaj,  luduntquc  fa  vis  examina  mifl'a, 
Mox  ftudio  majore  novos  obitura  labores; 
Egreditur  pullatum  agmen  ;  campofque  patentes 
Occupat,  ingentifque  tenet  fpatia  ardua  clivi. 
Nee  rvujra  ;  quifque  fuos  mores,  animumque  fateri, 
Jngeniumque  fequi,  proprixque  accingier  arti. 
Pars  aciem  inftituunt,  et  judo  utrinque  phalanges 
Ordine,  et  adverfie  pofitis  ftant  fortibus  alas. 
His  datur,  orbiculum  metis  prohibere  propinquis, 
Praecipitique  levem  per  gramina  mittere  lapfu : 
Aft  aliis,  quorum  pedibus  fiducia  major, 
Excubias  agitare  vagas,  curfuque  citato 
Sedari,  et  jam  jam  lalienti  infiftere  prsedas; 
TJfque  adeo  ftimulat  rapidus  globus  ire  fequaces 
Ancipiti  de  colle,  pibeque  volubilis  error. 
Inipete  feu  valido  elatum,  et  fublime  volantem 
Sufpiciunt,  pronofque  inhiant  ex  acre  lapfus, 
Sortiti  fortunam  oculis;  manibufque  paratis 
Expedant  propiorem,  intercipiuntque  caducum. 

At  pater  Ichinus  viridantes,  vallibus  imis, 
Qua  reficit  falices,  fubdudae  in  margine  ripas, 
Pars  vegetos  nudant  artus,  et  flumina  faltu 
Summa  petunt :  jamque  alternis  placidum  idibus 

zquor 

In  numerum,  pedibufque  fecant,  et  remige  planta ; 
Jumque  ipfo  penitus  merguntur  gurgite,  prono 
Corpore,  fpumantemque  lacum  fub  vertice  tor- 

quent. 

Protinus  emerfis,  nova  gratia  crinibus  udis 
Nafcitur,  atque  oculis  fubito  micat  acribus  ignis 
Lretior,  impubefque  genae  formofius  ardent. 

Interea  licitos  colics,  atque  otia  juffa, 
Illi  indignantes,  ripa:  ulterioris  amore, 
JLonginquos  campos,  et  non  fua  rura  capefTunt. 
Sive  illos  (quas  corda  folet  mortalia  paflim) 
In  vetitum  mens  prona  nefas,  et  iniqua  cupido 
Sollicitet ;  novitafve  trahat  dulcedine  mira 
Infuetos  tcntare  per  avia  pafcua  calles : 
iicu  malint  fecum  obfcuros  captare  receffus, 
Siecreto  faciles  habituri  in  margine  Mufas : 
Quicquid  erit,  curfu  pavitanti,  oculifque  retortis, 
3?it  furtiva  via,  et  fufpeclis  paffibus  itur. 
JJec  parvi  ftetit  ordinibus  ceffifie,  locumque 
BefcruiiTc  datum,  et  ftguis  abiific  reli6tis. 


Quin  lufu  incerto  cernas  geftirc  Minores; 
Ufque  adeo  inftabiles  animos  nova  gaudia  ladant! 
Se  faltu  exercent  vario,  et  ludantur  in  herba, 
Innocuafve  edunt  pugnas,  aut  gramine  molli 
Otia  agunt  fufi,  cliviique  fub  omnibus  harent. 
Aut  Aliquis  tereti  dudos  in  marmore  gyros 
Sufpiciens.  miratur  inextricabile  textum ; 
Sive  illit  Lemurum  populus  fub  node  choreas 
Plauferit  exiguas,  viridefque  attriverit  herbas; 
Sive  olim  paftor  fidos  defcripfcrit  ignes, 
Verbaque  difficili  compofta  reliqucrit  orbe, 
Confulafque  notas,  impreffaque  cefpite  vota. 

At  Juvenis,  cui  funt  meliores  pedlore  fenfus, 
Cui  cordi  rerum  fpecies,  et  daedalus  ordo, 
Et  tumulum  capit,  et  fublimi  vertice  folus, 
Quas  late  patuere,  oculos  fert  fingula  circura, 
Colle  exoppolho,  flaventi  campus  arifta 
Aureus,  adverfoque  refulgent  jugera  fole  : 
At  procul  obfcuri  fludlus,  et  rura  remotia 
Indiciis,  et  disjundae  jtiga  carula  Vtdz  : 
Sub  pedibus,  perfufa  uligine  pafcua  duki, 
Et  tenues  rivi,  et  fparfis  frondentia  Tempe 
Arboribus,  faxoque  rudi  venerabile  templum 
Apparet,  media  rigux  convallis  in  umbia. 
Turritum,  a  dextra,  patulis  caput  extulit  ulmis 
Wiccamici  domus  alma  chori,  notifiima  Mufis: 
Nee  procul  ampla  aides,  et  eodem  laeta  patrono, 
Ingens  delubrum,  centum  fublime  fcneilris, 
Engitur,  magnaque  micant  faftigia  mole. 
-  Hinc  atque hincextatvetusUrbs.oliminclytabello, 
Et  muri  disjedi,  et  propugnacula  lapfa ; 
Infedique  Lares,  Ixvilque  palatia  duda 
^Aufpiciis.     Nequeunt  expleri  corda  tuendo, 
Lt  tacitam  permulcet  imago  plurima  mentem. 

O  felix  Puerorum  aetas,  lucefque  beatx  I 
Vobis  dia  quies  animis,  et  triflia  vobis 
Nondum  foliicita  fubierunt  tsedia  vitx  ! 
En  !  vobis  rofeo  ore  falus,  curaeque  fugaces, 
Etlacryma,  fiquando,  breves;  dulcelque cachinm. 
Et  faciles,  ultro  nati  de  pectore,  rifus  \ 
O  fortunati  nimium  !  Si  talia  conftent 
Gaudia  jam  pueris,  Ichinum  propter  amasnum, 
Ah  !  fedes  ambire  novas  quas  tanta  cupido  eft, 
Dotalemque  domum.  et  promiffas  Ifidis  undas? 
Ipfos  ilia  licet  foeeundo  flumine  lucos 
Pieridum  fortunatos,  et  opima  vireta, 
Irriget,  Iliffo  par,  aut  Permeffidos  amni, 
Et  centum  oftentet  finuofo  in  margine  turres. 

SACELLUM  COLL.  SS.  TRIN.  OXON. 
IN3TAURATUM, 

Suppetias  prasfertim  conferente 

RAD.  BAT  HURST,  ejufdem  Coll.  Prasf.  ef. 

Ecclefiai  Wellenfis  Decano. 

Quo  cultu  renovata  dei  penetralia,  trifti 
Dudum  obduda  fitu,  fenioque  horrentia  longoa 


1098 


THE   WORKS   OF   WARTON. 


Squallorem  exuerint  veterem,  turpefque  tenebras; 
Utque  novam  faciem,  mutataque  maenia  rite 
Sumpferit  inftaurata  xdes,  fpecieque  refurgens 
Caeperit  infueta  prifcum  fplendefcere  fanum, 
Aufpice  Bathurfto,  canimus :  Tu,  Diva,  fccundum 
Da  genium,  et  quales  ipfi  Romana  canenti 
Carmina,  Nafonis  facilem  fuperantia  venam, 
Bathurfto  annueras,  Latios  concede  lepores. 

Quippe  ubi  jam  Graiis  moles  innixa  columnis 
Erigitur  nitidae  normam  confeffa  Corinthi, 
Vitruviumque  refert  juftiffima  fabrica  verum ; 
Quaque,  Hofpcs,  vario  ir.irabere  culmina  fuco 
Vivida,  et  ornatos  multo  molimine  muros, 
Olim  cernere  erat  breviori  limite  claufum 
Obfcurumque  adytum  ;  dubiam  cui  rara  feneftra 
Admifit  lucem,  rudibus  fuffufa  figuris ; 
Quale  pater  pietati  olim  facrarat  avitae 
Popius,  et  rite  antiqua  decoraverat  arte  : 
At  veteres  quondam  quicunque  infigniit  aras 
Tandem  extin&us  honos  :  rerum  fortuna  fubinde 
Tot  tulerat  revoluta  vices,  et,  certior  hoftis, 
Paulatim  quafiata  fatifcere  fecerat  aetas 
Tcdla  ruens  ;  quse  nnnc  et  Wrenni  dxdala  dextra, 
Et  pietas  Bathurfti  aequat  pulcherrima  coelo. 

Verum  age,  nee  faciles,  Hofpes,  piget  omnia 

circum 

Ferre  oculos.     Adfis;  qualifque  ereptusab  undis 
jEneas,  Lybicas  poftquam  fucceflerat  urbi, 
Conflitit  artificnmque  manus,  operumque  laborem 
Miratus,  piiftoque  in  pariete  nota  per  orbem 
Uella,  fub  ingenti  colluftrans  fingula  temple; 
JJon  minus  et  donis  jopulentum,  et  numine  plenum 
Sufpice  majori  templum,  nitidoqne  receptus 
Veftibulo,  quanti  pateant  fpeclacula  torni 
Contemplator,  et  oppofitum  czlamine  Septum 
IRaro  interfufum,  quali  perluceat  arte  '. 
•Queis  inflexa  modis,  quo  fit  perfufa  nitore 
Sculptilis,  et  nimium  confpe&u  haferica  cedrus  ! 
At  Cancellorum  non  enarrabile  textum, 
Autumni  fpoliis,  et  multa  meffe  gravatum, 
Occupat  in  rrjedio,  et  binas  demittit  in  alas 
Porticus,  et  plexa  prxfixis  fronde  columnis 
TJtrinque  incubuit,  penetralique  oftia  fecit. 
Nee  fua  pro  foribus  defunt,  fpirantia  figna, 
Pida  fatellitia,  atqtie  aditum  fervantia  tantum : 
Nonne  vides  fixos  in  coelum  tollcre  vultus, 
JngentefquE  Dei  monitus  haurire,  tideli 
Et  calamo  Chriflum  vi6luris  tradere  chartis  ? 
Halat  opus,  Lebanique  refert  fragantis  oderem. 

Perge  moclo,  utque  aciesampledrHeromnia  poffit, 
Te  mediis  immitte  choris,  delubraque  carpe 
Interiora  inhians ;  qureque  obvia  furgere  cernis 
Paulifper  flexo  venerans  altaria  vultu, 
•Side  gradum,  atque  bculos  refer  ad  falligia  fumma. 
Illic  divinos  vultus,  ardentiaque  ora, 
Uobilis  expreffit  calamu's,  crelumque  reclufit. 
In  medio,  domita  jam  morte  et  vi<ftor  le'i'us 
JEtherium  molitur  iter,  nebulifque  corufcis 
Infiftens,  Tepetit  patrem,  intermiflaque  fceptra.   . 
Agnofco  radiis  fiagrantia  tempora  duniis, 
Vulneraque  ilia  (nefas!)  qua-  ligno  maxima  fixus 
Viclima  luftuierat  fatali :  innubilus  aether 
Defuper,  et  pura;  visdcpluit  aurea  lucis. 
At  vario,  per  inane,  dei  comitatus.  amicSu. 
Cxlefl.es  formac,  fulgcntque  infignibus  alis. 
Officio  cr-jdas  omiic;,  trcpidare  fideli : 
Pars  ftquitur  longe,  veneraturque  ora  volant!*, 
Pars  nntiire  hnniercs  Divo,  et  fubftemsrc  nubes 


Purpureas,  caroque  oneri  fuccedere  gaudent 
Certatim,pareterqucjuvantaugentquetriumphum, 

Nee  totum  in  tabula  eft  culmen :  qua  ccerula 

daufit 

Extrema,  atque  oras  pi&uraa  muniit  aurum, 
Protinus  hinc  fefe  fpecies  nitidiiUma  rerum 
Utrinque  explicuit,  csemento  dudta  fequaci. 
Tali  opifex  facilem  maflam  difponere  tradla 
Calluit,  argillas  fecernens  uvida  fila 
Mobilis,  ut  nullas  non  fint  induta  figuras 
In  quafcunque  levis  digitus  diducere  vellet. 
Nee  confufus  honos  operi ;  fecretaque  rite 
Areolam  fculptura  fuam  fibi  vindicat  omnis. 
Prima  ipfam  niveo,  circumque  fupraqud,  tabcllana 
Prastexit,  finuar.s  alterna  volumina,  plexu, 
Frondeaque  intortos  producit  fimbria  gyros. 
Hinc  atque  hinc  patulx  pubefcunt  vimina  palmae 
Viva'ces  effufa  comas,  intextaque  pomis 
Turgidulis,  varioque  referta  umbracula  foctu, 
Cui  pleao  invideat  fubnitens  Copia  cornu  : 
Hac  procuduntur  flores,  pulcherrima  ferta, 
Qualia  vere  novo  peperit  cultiflimus  hortus ; 
Queis  vix  viva  magis,  meliufve  effingere  novit, 
Dextera  acu  pollens,  calathifque  aflueta  Minervac. 
Omnes  ilia  licet,  quot  parturit  Enna,  colores 
Temperet,  expediens  variis  difcrimina  fills, 
Atque  auro  rigeat  dives  fubtemen  et  oftro. 
At  ne  aciem  defle<5le,  tuendi  captus  amore. 
Afpicis,  ut  diam  nuhes  refecare  columbam, 
Suppofitisfecitque  opifex  oliabier  aris? 
Hanc  circum  ct  Chrifti  fatum  refcrentia,  faevse 
Inftrumenta  artis,  magnique  infignia  Lethi, 
Addidit;  informes  contorta  cufpide  clavos, 
Sanguineas  capitis  1'pinas,  crepitantia  flagra, 
Ipfam  etiam,  qu.-E  membra  D.ei  morientis,  et  ora 
Heu  !   collapfa  Cruccm  mundique  piacula  geffit. 

At  qua  marmoreis  gradibus  fe  myftica  inenfa 
Subrigit,  et  dives  divini  altare  cruoiis, 
En,  qualis  muruni  a  tergo  prsecinxit  amicStus, 
Cedrinzque  trabes,  adverfique  aemula  Septi 
Materies,  pariterque  potentis  confcia  torni. 
Verum  ipfos  evade  gradus,  nee  longius  abftes, 
Quin  propiore  oculo,  cupidique  indagine  vifus, 
Angliaci  explores  divinum  opus  Akimedontis; 
Ne  tenues  formze  fugiant,  et  gratia  ligni 
Exilis  pereantquc  levis  veftigia  ferri 
Moilia,  fubtilil'que  lepos  intercidat  omnis. 
Quis  fabri  dabit  infidias,  arcanaque  fila, 
Rimari !  Retinent  qux  vincula  textile  butum, 
Et  quales  co'iibent  fufpenfa  toreumata  nodi ! 
Hinc  atque  hinc  crefcit  foliorum  penfilis  umbra-, 
Et  partita  trahit  proaas  utrobique  coralios, 
Maturifque  riget  baccis,  et  germina  pandit : 
Quales  e  tereti  dependent  undique  truiico 
Undanteshederns,  et  deniis  coma  feta  corymbL-. 
Inter  opus  pennatarum  paria  aima  cherubuna 
«Vmbrofios  lucent  criues,  impubiaque  ora. 
f-n  fumwio  veneranda  calix,  incifaque  mcfiis 
In  fpicam  induitur,  turgentefque  uva  racemos 
Rafilis  explicuit,  facras  libamina  coenas. 
Tale  decus  nunquam  impreffit  candenti  elephanto, 
Non  Pario  lapidi,  non  flavo  Daedalus  auro, 
Qnale  faber  buxo,  gracilique  in  ftipite  lufit. 

En  vero,  tumulum  ingentem  qua  proxima  claufit 
Teftudo,  prifcas  efiigies,  et  bufta  propinquis 
Non  indigna  aris!  Salve,  fancliffime  Popi ! 
Nunc  ultro  ad  cineres  ipfius  «t  ofTa  parentis 
Adfumus ;  O  fulve !  nc^us  eriiui, pater  optime, credo, 


Elyfias  inter  fecks,  divofque  reppftus, 
Et  cum  dilefto  ducens  dia  otia  Moro*, 
Negligis  ulteriora  pii  monumenta  laboris, 
Alterius  monumcntamanus,  ct  non  tua  dona. 
Alme  Parcns,  falveto  !  Tuum  eft  veftigia  vulgi 
Quod  fugiam :  Tu,  das  iuopis  crudelia  vitas 
'l^edia  folari,  afHicHs  fpes  unica  rebus, 
Et  finis  Aonidum  viridantes  ire  per  hortos. 
Te,  pater,  et  fida  tua  fada  reponere  mente, 
Et  memor  afliduas  tibi  rite  refolvere  grates, 
Ora  puer  dubia  fignans  intonfa  juventa, 
Confueram,  primis  et  te  venerabar  ab  annis. 
Nee  vano  augurio  fan&is  cunabula  Mufis 
Hxc  pofuifti  olim,  nee  fpes  fruftrata  Mellit 
Magna  animo  me4itantem,  et  praemia  larga  fe- 

rentem : 

Unde  tot  Aonia  {tant  ordine  terrupora  Lauro' 
Velati,  donoque  aeternre  frondis  Alumni. 
Alleni  rerum  referans  abftrufa  fene&us, 
Et  torquere  fagax  rationis  lucida  ttla 
Omnia  Chilvorthiuf,  patriofque  recludcre  ritus 
Selde~nus  folers,  et  magnificus  Sheldonus, 
Et  juga  Denhamius  monftrans  ignota  camaenis  : 
Tuque  etiam,  Bathurfle,  potens  et  mente  mauu- 

que 

Palladis  exercere  artes,  unaqiie  tueri. 
Ergo  tibi  quoties,  Popi,  foknnia  vota 
Rite  rependamus,  propriofque  novemus  honores, 
Tuque  etiam  focias,  Bathurfle,  mertbere  laudes, 
Divifum  decus,  et  lauro  cingere  fecunda. — 
Nee  te  fola  Tuum,  licet  optima  cura,  facellum 
Occupat  :    en  !    prope    plura   facis,   nee   difpare 

fumptu, 

Atria  moliris  ritu  concinna  recenti, 
Summiffas  propter  fedes ;  majoraque  mandas 
IpCus  incrementa  domus,  reficifque  penates. 

Sic  ubi,  non  operofa  adco  primordia  faflus, 
Romulus  exiguam  muro  cor.clufeiat  urbeni, 
Per  tenues  primo  plateas  arx  rara  micare, 
Ipfaque  ftraminep  conftabat  regia  culmo  ; 
At  poftquam  Auguftus  rerum  fuccefiit  habenis, 
Continue  Parii  lapidis  candeutia  luce  n 
Tec-ta  refulfere;  et  Capitoli  immobile  faxum 
Venice  marmoreo  (letit,  et  laquearibus  aureis. 

Col.  Trin.  Oxon.  1748. 


EX  EURIP1DIS  ANDROMACHE, 

V.  io». 

CUM  Paris,  O  Helene,  te  celfa  in  Fergama  dusit, 

Et  mifcr  illicitos  juflit  adire  toros, 
Heu  !  non  conjugii  keti  florcntia  dona, 

Quin  fecum  Alectd,  Tifiphonemque,  tulit. 
Jllius  ob  Furias,  fidens  Mars  mille  carinis 

Te  circum  rutilis,  Troja,  dedit  facibus  ! 
Illius  ob  Furias,  cecidifti,  care  marite, 

Heclor  !   Achilleis  rapte,  marite,  rotis  ! 
Ipfa  autem  e  thalamis  agor  ad  cava  littora  ponti, 

Servitii  gravida  nube  adoperta  caput. 
Ah  !  mihi  qua:  lliilant  iacrymaa  !  Trojamque,  to- 
rumque, 

Et  foedo  fufum  in  pulvere  linquo  virum! 
Quid  juvat  ulterius  cseli  convex^  tueri  ? 

Scilicet  Hennionia  fordida  ierva  feror  : 

*   D.  Tl'oma  More,  amicof^o  finytlart. 
•j-  CLilliniuorth, 


P  O  E  M  A  T  A 

Et  Thetidls  complexa  pedes,  liquefio,  perennis 
Qualis  prascipiti  qua  pluit  unda  jugo. 


MELEAGRI  EPITAPHIUM  IN  UXOREM, 

EX    ANTHOLOC1A*. 


tibi  lacrymas  O  Heliodora,  fub  Orcum, 

In  tcnebris  longc  mitto  tibi  lacrymas. 
Ah  trifles  lacrymas,  libata  in  flebile  buflum 

Et  defiderii  dona,  et  amoris  habe  ! 
Te  crebro,  crebroque,  meamque  a  lumine  cafliitft 

Defleo;  quae  Diti  gratia  nulla  Deo  eft.  — 
O  ubi  jucundus  mihi  flofculus  ?  abftulit  Orcus.— 

Fajdavit  vegetum  pulvere  germen  humus. 
Qnare,  terra  tuum  eft  ampleciier  offa  repoftai 

Molliter,  et  fldo  falva  fovere  Cnu. 

ANTIPATRI,  EX  ANTHOLOGIA. 

His  natam  Antigenes  orabat  vocibus  olim 
jffivi  cum  traherit  fila  fuprema  fenex: 

"  O  Virgo  formofa,  O  dukis  nata,  minifler 
Vita;  inopis  femper  fit  tibi  cura  colus. 

Mox  cum  te  fociarit  Hymen,  tua  maxima  dos  fit, 
Te  cafta  mores  matris  habere  probos." 

CARYPHILLID^:,  EX  ANTHOLOGIA. 

MEAM  prateriens,  Viator,  urnam, 
Non  eft  quod  lacryma  riges  fepultum  y 
Nam  nil  et  .mihi  mortuo  dolendum  eft, 
Conjux  una  mihi,  fuitque  fida, 
Qua  cum  confenui  ;  dedique  natos 
Tres  in  foedera  faufta  nuptiarum  ; 
Ex  queis,  foepe  mihi  in  finu  tepenti, 
Sopivi  pueros  puellulafque  : 
Oui  tandem  Inferiis  mihi  relatis, 
Misere  ambrofios  patrem  fopores 
Dorniitum,  Elyfii  virente  ripa. 

CALLIMACHI  IN  CRETHIDA. 

DOCTA  eft  duke  loqui,  puellulafque 

Inter  ludere  do&a  pervenufte  ; 

Te  Crethi,  Samix  tuae  refpofcunt  ; 

Cujus  garrulitate  mollicella, 

Sutrant  lanifici  levare  curas. 

At  tu  furda  jaces;  trahifque  fomnos 

Cundis  denique,  Crethi,  dormiendos  ! 

ANTIPATRI, 

EX.  MSS.  BODLEIAN1S  ANTHOL.  CEP1IAL. 

EROO  te  nitidas  decus  paLeftrae, 

Te  lactimi  vulidas  lubore  ludlx, 

Et  perfufa  oleo  videre  membra, 

Nunc,  Protarche,  pater  tegit  fepulchro, 

Congeftifque  recondit  ofla  faxis  ? 

Necdum  filiolae  modo  peremptae 

Ceflit  cura  recens,  novique  ludlus 

Acer  funeris,  O  fidelis  uxor, 

Te  pnerepta  etiam  parique  fato. 

At  poftquam  ferus  Orcus  haufit,  et  fpes 

*  Utlnum,  pro  fale  et  acumiae,  quibits  lautitut  ale» 
(ftlcfizri  tiiiemui  recent:  &  fortas,  Jimphx  tandem  lefost 
quofolojucuna'/ff.rnoqtte  "jctercs  utcbantur  londiffitrito,  rtf- 
tiiui  pojjlt  et  adkiberi  {, 


noo  THE  WORKS  OF  WARTOJJ. 

Et  folatia  vos  gravis  feneclae, 
Ilunc  vobis  lapidem  mcmor  reponit. 


VOTUM  PANI  FACTUM. 

ANTHOL.    L.  7. 

SOSPENSAM  e  Platano  Telefon  tibi,  Capripcs  O 
Pan, 

Pellem  villofe  dat  pia  dona,  ferae. 
Cnrvatamque  caput,  nodofo  e  ftipitc  clavam, 

Quae  modo  depulii  fceda  cruore  lupi  eft. 
Conorctoque  aptum  lacli  mul&rale,  et  odoros 

Queis  tenuit  claufos,  ferrea  vincia,  canes. 

IN  TUMULUM  ARCHILOCHI. 

Hie  eft  Archilochus  fitns.    Veneno 
Primus  novit  amara  viperino 
Qui  contingere  carmina ;  et  cruorc 
Permefii  liquidas  notavit  undas. 
Teftis,  qui  tribus  orbus  efl  puellis, 
Sufpenfis  laqueo  truci,  Lycambes. 
Tu  cauto  pede  prasteri  viator, 
Crabohes  aliter  ciehis,  ejus 
Qni  bufto  fibi  condidere  nidum. 

ANTIPATRI, 

EX    ANTHOLOGIA. 

CUR  me  paftores  foliorum  abducit^s  umbra, 

Me  quam  deledtant  rofcida  ruram  vagam  ? 
Me  qua  nympharum  funi  Mufa  ?  atquc  aethere 
fudo, 

Hinc  recino  umbrofis  faltubus,  inde  jugis. 
En !  turdum  et  merulam,  fi  praedae  tanta  cupido 
eft, 

QUZ  late  fulcos  deripuere  Satos. 
Qua:  vaftant  fruges  captare  et  fallere  fas  eft, 

Rofcida  non  avidas  fufficit  herba  mihi. 

ANTIPATRI  THESSALONICENSIS  EP1GR. 

TE  verfo  properantem  hoftili  ex  agmine  tergo, 
Trajccit  ferro  vindice  mater  atrox; 

Te  tua  qnje  peperit  mater :  gladiumque  reccnti 
Spumantem  pueri  fanguine  crebra  rotans, 

Dentibus  et  graviter  ftridtn=,  quatiique  Lacsena, 
Igne  retro  torquens  lumina  glauca  fero, 

"  Linque,  ait,  Euiotam;  et  fi  mors  eft  dura,  fub 
"  Orcum 

u  Effuge;  non  meus  es;  non  Lacedsemonius." 

EX  ANTHOLOGIA. 
LIB.  4.     CAP.  33. 

Tz  trifti  mihi  nuper,  Heraclite, 
Fato  fuccubuiffe  nunciatum  eft; 
Quo  rumore,  mifellus,  impotcntes 
Fui  in  lacrimulas  ftatim  coadus : 
Recordabar  enim,  loquela  ut  olim 
Dwlci  confueratnus  ambo  longos 
Soles  fallere,  fabulifque  crebris. 
Verum,  Tu,  vetus  hofpes,  O  ubinam— . 
Ah  dudum — in  cineres  redade  dudum ! 
Munc  jaces,  vetus  hofpes,  et  urbe  Carum  ? 
Tu«  Lufcinue  taraen  fuperfunt ; 


Ills,  omnia  qui  fibi  arrogavit, 
iaud  Pluto  injiciet  manus  rapaces. 


NYMPH.  FONT. 

,  fonticola  nympha:,  qux  gurgitis  hujo» 
^Eternum  rofeo  tunditis  ima  pede : 
Lyfimachum  fervate  !  fub  aha  maxima  pinu 
Numinibus  pofuit  qui  fimulacra  tuis. 

SUB  IMAGINE  PANIS  RUDI  LAPIDE. 

Hie  ftans  verice  montium  fupremo 
Pan,glaucei  nemoris  nitere  fru&us 
Cerno  defuper,  uberemque  fylvam. 
Qiiod  fi  purpureae,  viator,  uvas 
Te  defiderium  capit,  roganti 
Non  totum  invideo  tibi  racemum. 
Quin  fi  fraude  mala  quid  hinc  reportes, 
Hoc  poenas  luito  caput  bacillo. 

HOMERI  HYMNUS  AD  PANA. 

!  tibi,  Pan,  fummi  colles,  et  maxima  parent 
Culmina,  prascipitelque  nivali  vertice  rupes. 
Tu  pater,  incedeiis  virgulta  per  avia,  mentem 
Objecftas  lapfu  fluviorum  lene  cadentum. 
Sive  errare  vehs  per  vafta  cacumina,  magni 
Unde  procul  patuere  greges,  atque  otia  dia 
Paftorum ;  capreafve  agites  indagine  dciisa, 
Seu  redeas  fquailens  variarum  cade  ferarum. 
At  lim'ul  ex  alto  lubluxit  vtfper  Oiympo, 
Tuk  melos  fuavi  diffundis  arundine,  quale 
Non,  Philomela,  facis  quotitsfrondentibus  umbri* 
Abdita,  vere  novo,  imegras  miferabile  carmc-n. 
Continue  properant  faciles  in  carmina  nympho2» 
Inftaurantque  chores;  faltantibub  adibnat  Echo. 
In  med:o  Deus  ipfe  inflcxos  orbibus  orbes 
lufcquitur,  quatiens  macuiolae  tcgmine  lyncis : 
Sub  pcdihulque  croci  crcfcunt,  dulcefquc  hyacin- 

thi, 

Floribus  et  variis  viridis  diftingnitur  herba. 
Interea  cecinere  Deum  primardia  prifca: 
At  primum  dix^re,  ut,  Divum  nuntius  Hermes 
Venerit  Arcadlas  fines,  pecorifque  feraccs 
Formofi  campos,  et  prata  rectntia  rivis. 
Qjja  nunc  illi  arx,  qua  fiant  Cyl'.enia  templa. 
..iic,  divino  licet  ingens  -jffet  houore, 
Pavit  oves,  nam  jufiit  amor  ;  votifque  potitus 
Egrcgiam  Dryopen  in  vincia  jugali;1.  duxit. 
.Vafcitur  hire  proles  vifu  miranda,  bicorn'is 
Cayripes;  ipfa  novo  nutrix  exterrita  foetu 
tveftitit,  hirfutiquc  infsncem  corporis  horrens. 
•U  pater  exultans  vilioii  pelle  rcvirwftum 

lontani  leporis  puerum,  t'ulgennbus  aftris 
'ntulit,  et  folium  Jo  vis  ad  fubiime  locavit. 
"xcipiunt  plaufu  Superi ;  iVhrifit  lacchus 
<Jurpureo  vultu,  et  puerrnn  Pan  nomine  dixit. 

EX  POEMATA   DE  VOLUPTATIBUS  FA- 
CULT A1IS  IMAGINATKICIb*. 


O  PROGENIES  pulcherrima  cceli ! 
ii  fuccorum  tractu,  calamique  labore, 


Divinos  ducam  vuitus,  cceieftiaque  ora  ? 
Unde  Icgam  qui,  Diva,  tuis  certare  colores 

*  The  Pleafures  of  Imagination t  b,  i, 


P  O  E  M  A  T  A. 


IIOI 


Purpurei  pofllnt,  diftrimina  d.tdaia  fuci  ? 
Ergo  age,  Mufa,  vago  curfu  per  maxima  mundi 
I  fpatia  ;  et  quicquid  formofi  florida  tellus, 
Quicquid  habent  maria,  ct  coeli  Ipirabile  lumen, 
Delibes  ;  quicquid  nitidum  iiatura  recondit 
Dives  opum  variarum,  in  nmabile,  Mufa,  fideli 
Confer  opus  fludio.     Seu  liberioribus  alis 
Vin',  comite  Autunino,  per  fortunata  volare     . 
Hefperidum  nemora,  et  dias  Atlantidos  oras, 
Dum  quacunque  Pater  fcecundo  pollice  lucum 
Faelicem  contingit,  opacis  gratia  ramis 
Fit  nova,  et  auricomo  fulserunt  vimiua  foetu  : 
Quacunque  inceffit  per  ditia  rura,  renident 
Undique  mature  fubiti  livore  racemi ; 
Apricofque  recens  infecit  purpura  colics, 
Quales  occiduo  nubes  quae  fole  corufcant. 
Sive  ertare  velis,  rigua  convalle,  per  umbras 
Daphnes  diledlas,  Peneus  gurgite  leni 
Qua  fluit,  oftentatque  reflexam  e  flumine  Tempe 
Purpuream  vitreo ; — Tempe  !  qua,  numina  fylvis 
Nota  olim,  Fauni  Nymphseque,  per  aurea  prifci 
Saecula  Saturni,  fecreto  in  margine  ripse 
Frondiferae,  focio  ducebant  Pane  choreas 
Multiplices.     At  faltantum  veftigia-propter, 
Horafque,  Zephyrofque  almos,  udo  imbre,  videres 
Certatim  ambrofios  rores,  et  odoriferum  thus, 
Depluere,  Elyfioque  rubent  quicunque  colores  *. 

EX  POEMATE  DE  RATIONE  SALUTIS 
CONSERVAND^Ef. 

ERCO  agitc,  O  nymphse,  integros  oflendite  fontes; 
Egelidafque  domos,  rigui  penetralia  rcgni, 
Naiades  uperite  !  per  avia  tefqua  vagari, 
Vobis  nota,  aveo :  videor  refonantia  faxis 
Flumina  prasruptis,  fcatebrafque  audire  reclufas. 
Sandla  perculfus  mentem  formidine,  rupes 
Profpicio,  qua  vorticibus  fpumantibus  amnes 
Infignes  micue're,  antique  carmine  clari.    • 
Ante  omnes,  ingens,  fcopulis  plangentibus,  exit 
Nilus ;  at  iratis  properat  violentior  undis^ 
Hinc  Padus  ;  inde  jugis  Euphrates  Oceano  par 
Volvitur  umbriferis,  orientemque  irrigat  omnem. 
At  fecum,  fatvoque  procul  refupinus  in  antro, 
Squallentem  Tanais  diffudit  barbarus  urnam. 
Quantis  fub  tenebris,  quam  vaflis  obruta  filvis 
Undique,  conduntur  fluviorum  exordia  prima 
Nobilium  !    Ergo  animum  permifta  horrore  vo- 

luptas 

Percipit,  et  (acre  corrsrunt  ofla  pavore : 
Et  magis  atque  magis,  dira  formidine  circum 
Frondiferi  horrefcunt  luci,  ramifque  patefcit 
Altius,  et  majori  atrum  nemus  accubat  umbra. 
Dicite,  num  Lemurum  regie  flat  finibus  iftis 
Abdita  ?  qusenam  hs:c  ignoti  pomxria  mundi  ? 
Qui  popuii  ?  Quxve  arva  viris  exercita  ?  fiquas 
Talia  trans  deferta  fuperfint  arva  colenda. 
O  ubi  camporum  tarn  nigris  faucibus  antrum 
Porrigitur  !  Tanto  fpecus  ille  immanis  hiatu 
Fertur  in  informem  Phlegcthonta,  an  amcena  vi- 

reta 

Fortunatorum  nemorum  ?  per  opaca  locorum 
Ducitc  vos  dubiofque  pedes  firmetis  eunti : 
Munera  vir.h-a  cano,  nam  juflit  talia  Pseon, 
Talia,  aiva  .ialus ;  et  verfu  pandere  conor, 

*  Lib,  i.  tier.  280,  etfeq. 

f  The  Ait  of  frtfervinf  Health,  6.  £. 


Quid  lympha  liquido  fierive  poteft  eleraento  : 
Quo  nihil  utilius  mundi  fert  dsdala  moles. 
Mirus  quippe  latex  it  mobilis  undique  ;  gemmis 
Lumine  dat  radiare  vago  ;  dat  quercubus  altis 
Sasvas  indignari  hyemes,  et  temnere  ventos; 
Dat  fcintrtlanti  tenuiflima  fpicula  vino  : 
Et  vehit  et  general  fpeciei  alimenta  ciiique, 
Et  vitam,  feu  quz  fpirabilis  astheris  aura 
Vefcitur,  irriguifve  virefcit  florida  campis  *. 

FINDARI  PYTHIC.  I. 

HIERONl    JETNJEO    SYRACUSIO    CURRU   VICT« 

TESTUDO  fills  apta  nitentibus, 
Quam  rite  fervat  Pieridum  chorus, 
Tu  cantilenam,  tu  fequaces 

Egregia  regis  arte  greffus! 
Perculfa  ple&ro  leniter  aureo 
Pronum  corufci  fulminis  impetum 
Tu  fiftis,  ^Eternasque  flaqimre 
Prxcipites  moderaris  i<ftus. 
Alis  relapfis,  fufa  Jovis  fuper 
Sceptre,  volucris  regia  fternitur 
Sopore  prasdulci,  carentque 

Roftra  minis,  occulique  flammis. 
Quin  Mars  reponens  afpera  fpicula, 
Pofl  pulverem  certaminis  ardui, 
Obledletat,  O  Thoebea  proles, 
Corda  tuo  truculenta  cantu. 
At  quos  bcnigno  numne  Jupiter 
Non  vidit,  illos,  carminis  audiant 
Siquando  divini  levamen, 

Horror  agit  pavidufque  lu&us: 
Qualis  Typhstus,  fub  barathro  jacens 
Imo,  fupremis  improba  centiceps 
Quad  btlla  Divis  intuliflet 

^monio  genitus  fub  antro. 
Quern  nunc  ligatum  Cuma  cubat  fuper, 
Pc&ufque  fetis  comprimit  horridum, 
Columna  cceli,  quas  perenni 

Stat  glacie,  nivis  j^Etna  nutriz": 
Et  nunc  procellas  evomit  igneas, 
Fumofque,  millo  turbine,  bellua 
Vulcan  i  et  horrendum  rubefcunt 

Node  procul  jaculata  faxa: 
Immane  didlu  prodigium  !  Mare 
Siquis  propinqutm  tranfeat,  ut  Typhos 
JSLinx.  fub  antris  illegetur, 

Difficilique  fremat  cubili  !  " 
Hoc  me  folutum  crimine  fac,  Pater, 
Cui  paret  7f.tnx  frondeus  ambitus, 
Frons  fertiiis  telluris,  ingens 

Urbs  titulos  tulit  unde  magnos; 
Qua  nuntiatum  eft  quale  Hiero  ederet 
Certamen,  acres  victor  agens  equos, 
Quant  ufque  fuccuffis,  rotarum 
Arbitur,  inftiterit  quadrigisf. 

IN  HORTO  SCRIPT. 

Vos  O  quce  fociis  plicata  ramis 
Ulmi  brachia  panditis  gemellse, 
Horti  deliciae,  decufque  parvi  '. 
Dum  vicina  apium  cohors  per  herbas 


•   Lib.  it.  Per. 
I  Ad  Antlflr.  ii 


THE   WORKS   OF   W-ARTON. 


ire* 

Fragrantes  medio  ftrcpit  ftib  xftu, 
Fraternis  tueamini  magiftrum 
Vosfub  frond  ibus,  Attici  leporis 
Au6tores  Latiive  leditantem  ; 
Luftrantemve  oculo  licentiori 
Colics  oppofitos,  aprica  rura, 
Late  undantibus  obfitos  ariftis, 
Tedlofque  aeriis  fuperne  f^gis. 

EPITAPHIUM. 

CONJUX  chara  vale  '  tibi  Maritus 
Hoc  pono  memori  manu  fepulchrum*: 
At  quales  lacrymas  tibi  rependam, 
Dum  trifti  recolo,  Sufanna,  corde, 
Quam  conftans,  animo  neque  impotente, 
Tardi  fufluleras  acuta  lethi, 
Me  fpe<5tans  placidis  fupremum  ocellis  ! 
Quod  fi  pro  mentis  vei  ipfe  flereni, 
Quo  fletu  tua  te  relicla  proles, 
Proles  parvula,  rite  profequetur, 
Cuftodem,  fociam,  ducem,  parcntem  ? 
At  quorfum  lacryms;  ?  Valeto  rarx 
Exemplum  pietatis,  O  Sufanna ! 

APUD  HORTUM  JUCUNDISSIMUM  WIN- 
TONLK. 

Si  qua  eft  gratia  rivuli  perennis, 
Ripas  qui  properat  loquax  per  udas; 
Si  quis  gramineo  nitor  vireto, 
Rafifve  in  fpatiis  quid  eft  amceni ; 
Aut  fiquod,  fruticum  tenellulorum, 
Raris  fafciculis  et  hinc  et  ir.de 
Frondentum,  tenues  brevefque  fylvae, 
Pofiint  pandere  daedali  coloris ; 
Quin,  fi  floribus,  angulos  per  omnes, 
Quod  dulcedinis  eit  fine  arte  fparfis; 
Cum  crcbris  faluberrimis  et  herbis; 
Hunc,  hofpes,  lepidum  putabis  hortum. 
At  nee  delicise,  licet  fuaves, 
Tales  te  poterint  diu  tenere, 
Quin  mirabere,  quae  micant  utrinque 
Te<fla  ingentia,  maximumque  templum, 
Antiquumque  larem  decus  camccnis. 


lac  dum  profpicias,  jugi  fiicniti 
Jub  clivo  ancipiti,  domus  fuperbx 
Olim,  fnigmina  vafta,  dirutafque 
Arces ;  ah  memor,  hofpes,  efto,  ut  ipfas, 
Quas  nuuc  egregio  -vides  decoras 
Dultu,  et  magnificas,  utrinque  moles, 
VTox  traxiffe  queant  parem  ruinam, 
Et  naufco-jaceant  fituque  plenas ; 
Quamvis  utraque  Wiccamus  beatus 
Diti  fccerit  auxeritque  fumtu, 
Te,  Phcebi  domus  alma ;  teque  templum, 
Centum  iurgere  juff^rit  columnis. 

AD  SOMNUM*. 

SOMNI  veni,  et  quanquam.  certifTima  mortis  ima^ 

goes, 

Confortcm  cupio  te  tamen  effe  tori ! 
Hue  ades,  haud  abiture  cito  :  nam  fie  fine  vita 
Vivere,  quam  fuave  eft,  Cc  fine  morte  mori ! 

QUI  FIT  MAECENAS f.'&c; 

CUM  Juvenis  noftras  fubiit  novus  advenafedes, 

Continuo  POHI|  praemia  magna  petit: 

Deinde  potens  voti  quiddam  fublimeus  ambit, 

Et  focii  lepidum  munus  inire  cupit : 

At  focius,  mavult  tranlire  ad  rura  facerdos 

Arridetque  uxor  jam  propriique  lares: 

Ad  fus  tranfmiiTo,  vitam  inftaurarc  priorem, 

Atque  iterum  POPI  ta6ta  fubire,  juvat. 

O  pedlus  mire  varium  et  mutabile  !  cui  fors 

QjJaque  petita  placet,  nulla  potita  placet 

*  Tbcfe  truly  beautiful  lines,  "written  in  the  original 
fp'irlt  of  the  Greek  Epigram,  "were  intended  to  have  been 
placed  under  ajiatue  ff  Somnus,  in  the  garden  of  the 
laie  learned  James  Harris,  £Jy.  of  Salisbury. 

f  "  The  Progrefs  of  ^Difcontent  "  oii-cd  its  origin  tt 
tlicfe  verfes,  fubjolned  to  a  theme  by  JVtirtcn,  ivbtn  an 
under  graduate ;  -with  which  the  Prejidcnt  of  his  college 
•zuas  fo  much  plcafed,  that  be  dejtred  him  to  farapLrafe 
them  In  Englljb. 

\  Sir  Thomas  Pope,  the  founder  of  Trinity  College. 


SONNET  IN  IMITATION  OF  SPENSER*. 


METHODGIIT   I   faw   the  grave   where  tuneful 
Gray, 

Mantled  in  black  oblivion,  calmly  flept ; 
O'er  the  damp  turf  in  deepeft  horror  lay 

The  mufe,  and  her  immortal  minion  wept. 

*  76/j-  Sonnet  -was  fvblljktd  in  "  Tie  London 
Chronicle"  and  tefrinted  in  "  The  Gentleman']  Ma 
gazine"  for  1777.  Tbefi-Jl  line  is  evidently  borrowed 
from  Sir  Walter  RaltigVt  "  Vifu>n  of  tie  Faerie 
j^uecnr.'' 

«  Methought  I  faw  the  grave  where  Laura 
lay,"  &c. 


In  vain,  from  f  Harewood's  tangled  alleys  wild 

Devonia's  virgins  breath'd  the  choral  fong  ; 
In  vain,  from  f  Mona's  precipices  wild, 

Hoar  Mador's  harp  its  thrilling  echo  rung— 
When,  fudden  flealing  o'er  the  welkin  wide, 
New  magic  ftrains  were  heard  from  Ifis'  verge; 
The  mourning  maid  forgot  her  funeral  dirge, 
And  fmiling  fwcet,  as  erft,  with  confcious  pride, 
Prefs'd  from  her  auburn  hair  the  nightly  dew, 
And  trimm'd  her  wreath  of  hyacinth  anew. 

f   The  fcenes   of  Mr.   Mafens    "    Elfrida"    and 
"   Chara fiacus,'' 

4 


THE 


POETICAL   WORKS 


O  F 


NATHANIEL  COTTON,  M.  D. 


Containing 

VISIONS,  II  TALES, 

FABLES,  EPITAPHS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


Ye  dudile  youths,  whofe  rifmg  fua 
Hath  many  circles  flill  to  run ; 
Who  wifely  wifli  the  pilot's  chart, 
To  fleer  through  life  th'  unfteady  heart ; 
And  all  the  thoughtful  voyage  paft, 
To  gain  a  happy  port  at  laft  : 
Attend  a  Seer's  inftruftive  fong, 
For  moral  truths  to  dreams  belong. 

VISION  V. 


EDINB  U  RGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE] 
Anne  1795, 


THE  LIFE  OF  COTTON. 


OF  the  family,  birth-place,  and  education  of  NATHANIEL  COTTON,  there  are  no  written  memorial*, 
A  collection  of  his  Parlous  Pieces  In  Profe  and  Verft,  was  printed  in  1 791 ;  but,  by  an  unpardonable 
neglect  in  the  editor,  withou:  any  information  concerning  his  life,  family  connections,  or  even  the 
times  and  places  of  his  birth  and  death.  For  the  fake  of  pofterity,  as  welt  as  the  prefent  times,  it 
is  to  be  wifhed  that  thofe  who  are  acquainted  wirh  any  particulars  concerning  him,  would  commu 
nicate  them  to  fome  repofitory,  where  they  might  be  referved  for  the  ufe  of  future  biographers. 

A  few  detached  dates  and  notices,  collected  chiefly  from  his  writings,  form  the  (lender  memorials 
of  his  life. 

He  was  bred  to  the  profeflion  of  phyfic,  in  which  he  took  the  degree  of  Doctor ;  but  whether  he 
was  indebted  to  either  of  the  Englifli  Univerfities  for  any  part  of  the  literature  he  pofleffed,  or  his 
academical  degree,  is  uncertain. 

He  fettled  as  a  phyfician  at  St.  Albans,  in  Hertfordfhire,  where  he  acquired  great  reputation  ia 
his  profeflion,  and  continued  to  refide  till  his  death,  la  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  he  kept  a  houfe 
for  the  reception  of  lunatics. 

He  very  early  exerted  his  poetical  talents,  as  may  be  feen  by  the  dates  of  feveral  of  his  perform^ 
ances  ;  the  Epitapls  on  Mifi  Gee  and  Mr.  Strtng,  1736,  Epitaph  on  Colonel  Gardiner,  1745,  Epitafb 
on  John  Date  of  Bridge  water,  1747-8,  and  the  vcrfes  to  tie  Rtv.  James  Hirvey,  an  his  Mtditations,  by 
a  Pbyfician,  1748. 

In  1749,  he  had  the  affliction  to  lofe  his  wife;  as  appears  from  his  letter  to  Dr.  Doddridge, 
dated  St.  Aibnni,  April  29.  1749,  publilhed  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stedman  among  the  "  Letters  to  and 
from  Philip  Doddridge,  D.  D."  8vo,  1790. 

"  1  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  late  tender  inftances  of  cond«fcenfion  and  friendlhip* 
The  comfort  and  advice  which  you  moll  kindly  adminfter,  are  extremely  acceptable  ;  and  I  hearti 
ly  Pra7  *°  God to  K've  them  their  due  weight.  For  my  own  part,  I  am,  and  have  long  been  abun 
dantly  perfuaded,  that  no  fyftem,  but  that  of  Chriftiaiiity,  is  able  to  fuftain  the  foul  amidft  all  the 
difficulties  and  diftrefles  of  life.  The  confolations  of  philofophy  only  are  fpecious  trifles  at  bed;  all 
cold  and  impotent  applications  to  the  bleeding  heart !  But  the  religion  of  Jefus,  like  its  gracious  and 
benevolent  author,  ia  an  inexhauftible  fource  of  comfort  in  this  world,  and  gives  us  the  hopes  o£ 
everlafting  enjoyment  in  the  n«xc. 

"  1  prefume  humbly  to'hope  that  the  Supreme  Being  will  fupport  me  under  my  affliction;  and  I 
nioft  earneftly  entreat  that  he  will  fanctify  my  forrows  to  every  gracious  and  good  purpofe. 

"  What  the  mind  feels  upon  fuch  a  painful  divorce,  none  can  adequately  know,  but  they  who 
nave-  had  the  bitter  experience  of  this  fad  folemnity.  However,  delicate  and  worthy  minds  will 
readily  paint  out  to  tliemfclves  fomething  unutterably  Toft  and  moving  upon  the  feparation  of  two 
hearts,  whofe  only  divifion  was  their  lodgment  in  twtf-breafts. 

"  I  am  extremely  indebted  to  your  lady  for  her  kind  fympathy  with  me  in  my  forrows ;  and  the 
only  return  that  I  can  make,  either  to  herfelf  or  her  confort,  I*  my  hearty  prayer,  that  tbc.  diflblw- 
tion  of  their  happy  union' may  be  at  a  *erj  diftant  period,'' 
VOL.  XI,  4  * 


Hc6  THE  LIFE  OF  COTTON. 

In  I  75 1,  he  published  his  yifions  in  Ver;e,for  tb:  Entertainment  and  nfir-j£}ion  of  Younger  Minds,  8vo, 
without  his  name;  nor  is  it  prefixed  to  any  of  the  fubfequent  editions,  in  conformity  with  the  mo- 
deft  ambition  he  profeffes  in  the  following  lines  of  his  Efijlle  to  tie  Reader. 

All  my  ambition  is,  I  own, 

To  profit  and  to  pleafe  unknown. 

This  publication  was  favourably  received  by  the  polite  and  religious  world,  aijcl  probably  obtain 
ed  him  the  friendfhip  of  Young,  who  refided  at  Welwyn,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Albans. 

He  attended  Young  in  hi*  laft  illnefs,  April  1765.  Among  the  Extract  frtm  bis  Letters,  is  the 
following  account  of  the  laft  moments  of  that  excellent  poet,  without  fuperfcription  or  date. 

"  In  my  laft,  I  acquainted  you  that  I  was  called  to  Welwyn.     When  I  arrived  there,  I  found  Dr. 
Yate  waiting  for  me.     It  feenis  he  had  been  fent  for  three  or  four  days  before  my  afliftance 
defired.     Dr.  Young's  diforder  was  attended  with  fume  obfcurity.     But  on  Tuefday,  matters  we 
a  very  difcouraging  afpecl;   and  on  Wednefday,  Yate  and  myfelf  gave  up  the  cafe  as  loft.     Fror 
that  period  to  the  prefent,  Dr.  Young  hath  been  dying.     Whether  the  fcene  be  clofed  this  evening, 
I  cannot  take  upon  me  to  fay;   but  this  day  at  noou,  the  phyficians  took  their  leave.     Dr.  Young, 
although  in  his  eighty-fixth  year,  has  difputed  every  inch  of  ground  with  death,  from  the  ftrength 
of  his  conftitution,  never  impaired  in  early  life  by  riot  and  debauchery.     As  I  fat  by  his  bed  fide, 
how  earneftly  did  I  wifh  the  viral  knot  untied  !    I  humbly  pray  God,  that  myfelf  and  all  who  are- 
connected  with  me,  either  by  blood  or  friendihip%  may  be  favoured  with  an  eafy  tranfition  out 
this  world  into  a  better. — Your  friendfhip  will  excufe  the  melancholy  reflections,  for  the  fake  of  tr 
object  which  fuggefted  them.     1  was  very  fond  of  Dr.  Young's  company,  and  greatly  venerated 
mental  abilities. 

"  It  is  paft  all  doubt  with  me,  that  Dr.  Yonng's  "  Night  Thoughts"  have  advanced  the  interef 
of  religion.     For,  whatever  imperfections  there  may  be  in  that  performance,  there  are  indifputal 
fome  of  the  moft  ferious,  moft  important,  and  moft  elevated  fenriments  (expruTed  in  moft  nervoi 
flriking,  and  animated  language),  which  have  ever  dropped  from  the  pen  of  man.     It  is  faid  (anc 
perhaps  with  truth),  that  there  were  oddities  in  Dr.  Young's  conduit.     But   thcfe   will  moulde 
away  from  our  remembrance  fafter  than  his  afhes  ;   while  the  more  excellent  part  of  his  character^ 
like  the  colourings  of  a  fine  picture,  will  brighter  by  time,  and  improve  every  year  in  their  valua 
tion.     Infidels  and  fenfualifts  regard  the  deceafed  as  an  enthufiaft  or  melancholic.     But  that  perk 
is  approaching,  when  wifdom  will  be  juftified  of  her  children,  and  when  intrinfic  worth  fliall  fhine 
forth  as  the  ftars  in  the  firmament. 

'5  I  have  fometimes  thought,  when  I  have  heard  men  of  literature  fpeak  with  indifference  of 
Young's  abilities,  that  their  ftriiStures  have  proceeded  from  a  fecret  principle  of  envy.  But  whe 
this  generation  is  pafTed  away,  I  dare  fay  the  Doctor's  works  will  be'univerfaliy  held  in  grea 
efteem. 

VirtHtem  incolumem  odimus, 
Sublatam  ex  oculis  quzrimus  invidi." 

The  following  Extracts  e.-.hibit  an  advantageous  fpecimen  of  his  temper  and  difpoCtion,  and  an  I 
Interefting  picture  of  the  infirmities  cf  age. 

"  My  bed  is  often  ftrewed  with  thorns :  but  I  muft  journey  through  life  upon  the  fame  terms  that  • 
many  wifer  and  better  men  than  myfelf  have  done ;  and  muft  reflect  with  fome  degree  of  comfortJ 
that  I  am  making  hafty  advances  to  that  fanctuary,  "  where  the  wicked  ceafe  from  troubling,  and, 
the  weary  fhall  be  at  reft."  Oh  !  my  heart  firings,  break  not  yet,  out  of  pity  to  the  worthier  part  of 
my  family,  whe  cannot  lofe  me  without  fuffcring  the  greateft  inconveniencies- 

"  I  have  paffed  almoft  three  winters  beyond  the  ufual  boundary  appropriated  to  human  life .  an<f I 
haying  thus  tranfcended  the  longevity  of  a  feptuagenarian,  I  now  labour  under  the  inconvenkr:cie« 
and  evils  of  advanced  years.     1  am  emaciated  to  a  very  great  degree,  and  my  trembling  linvis  _re 
fo  weak,  as  to  feel  inefficient  to  fupport  my  weight.     The  languors  like  wife  which  I  fuffer  arc  .0 
frequent  and  fevcre,  as  to  threaten  an  entire  ftop  to  the  circulation,  and  are  fometimes  accom.  a  .  ed 
with  that  moft  diftrcfsfui  of  all  fenfations,  an  anjiety  eircafrxcerdia.  I  fkep  fo  little  during  the  night, 


THE   LIFE   OF  COTTON.  ttcfj 

that,  in  general,  I  can  rife  up  at  the  voice  of  the  bird,  be  that  period  ever  fd  early.  Nor  are  my 
mental  powers  lefs  deficient  than  my  bodily  ftrength ;  for  my  memory  is  notorioufly  impaired ;  and 
a  fubje&  which  requires  a  little  thought,  becomes  a  burden  hardly  fupportable.  Are  not  all  the 
particulars  which  I  have  communicated,  proofs  of  thtir  being  the  concluding  page  of  Shakfpcarc's 
"  ftrange  eventful  hiftory  ?"  Yes,  furely,  my  dear  friend  when  an  infpired  author  announces  the  fame 
truth.  Nor  are  you  and  I  ro  wonder,  that  in  our  paflage  through  this  world,  the  weather  and  the  ways 
grow  the  worfe,  the  longer  we  travel,  and  the  nearer  we  approach  to  our  journey's  end.  The  facred 
writer  juft  now  mentioned  affirms,  that  when  thofe  comfortlefs  days  arrive,  which  are  attended  with 
fatiety,  difguft,  and  inquietude,  we  muft  expect  the  clouds  to  be  often  returning  after  the  rain. 
Amid  thefe  melancholy  fcenes,  it  hath  lately  pleafed  Divine  Providence  to  bereave  me  of  one  of 
the  'oeft  of  daughters,  who  never  gave  me  a  moment's  uneafinef«,  but  at  her  death,  and  in  that  illnefi 
•which  led  to  it ;  I  mean  my  daughter  Kitty.  <j>uis  defiderio  Jit  pudor  aut  modus  tarn  cbari  capita  ?  But 
no  more  of  this  awful  occurrence." 

He  died  at  St.  Albans,  in  an  advanced  age,  Auguft  2.  1788. 

Of  his  Vifiont  In  Vcrjc,  the  feventh  edition,  revifed  and  enlarged,  was  printed  in  1767.  The  fub- 
fcquent  editions  are  too  numerous  to  be  fpecified  In  1791,  his  Various  Pieces  in  Profe  and  Pcrfet 
many  rf  tvbicb  were  never  before  fublifted,  were  printed  in  a  vols,  8vo.  The  firft  volume  contains  his 
fificns  in  Vtrft,  Fables,  and  other  poetical  pieces.  The  fecond,  his  profe  pieces,  Mirza  to  Seliia  ; 
JMLirza  to  Hthrrtotia  ;  Mufculuii  Letters  ;  five  Sermons  ;  Health,  an  AlL-gory  ;  on  Hujbtndry  ;  on  Zeal ; 
DetraSiion,  a  Vifion  ;  on  Marriage  ;  Hi/lory  of  an  Innkeeptt  in  Normandy  ;  un  its  Xlllth  Pfalm  ;  en  tbe 
'XLIId  Pfalm  s  Extracis  from  Letters.  They  are  "  infcribed,  by  permiffion,  to  the  Dowager  Coun- 
tefs  Spencer,'1  by  Nathaniel  Cotton,  probably  his  foil,  in  the  following  "  dedication," 
!  "  The  author  being  well  known  to  her  Ladyfhip  for  many  years,  this  public  teftimony  of  appro 
bation  of  his  life  and  works,  given  by  her  whofe  high  Ration  and  rank  preclude  her  not  from  a  laud 
able  and  pre-eminent  zeal  in  the  caufc  of  religion  and  goodnefs,  is  particularly  acknowledged  by," 
&c. 

The  "dedication"  is  fucceeded  by  the  following  fhort"  preface,"  by  the  editor. 
•    "  As  the  Vijiont  in  Verfc,  and  other  pieces  of  the  late  Dr.  Cotton  which  have  made  their  appear 
ance,  have  given  general  fatisfadion,  the  editor  flatters  himfelf  that   the  preienc  volumes,  fomc 
pieces  in  which  have  not  yet  been  publifhed,  will  be  agreeable  to  the  public. 

"  It  may  not  be  improper  to  obferve,  in  regard  to  the  Sermons  here  offered,  that  as  Mr.  Boyle, 
Mr.  Locke,  Sir  Ifaac  Newt<n,  and  Mr.  Addifon,  Were  firm  believers  in  Chriftianity,  that  being1 
laymen,  and  having  no  temporal  interefts  relative  to  religion,  their  influence  in  the  fupport  of  it  has 
been  extenfive  and  effectual  :  So  every  frefli  inftance  of  firm  fakh  in  a  mind  far  removed  from  all 
fufpicion,  will  be  acceptable  to  the  lovers  of  Chriftianity  " 

Hi*  yifions  in  Perfc  and  other  uncollt&ed  and  unpublifhed  poems,  reprinted  from  the  edition 
1791,  are  now,  for  the  firft  time,  received  into  a  collection  of  claffical  Englifh  poetry. 

His  moral  and  intellectual  character  appears  to  have  been,  in  the  higheft  degree,  amiable  and 
refpedlable.  His  piety  is  truly  venerable  and  edifying.  His  writings  are  diflinguifhed  by  the 
ftrongeft  m^rks  of  piety,  learning,  tafle,  and  benevolence.  They  are  the  productions  of  an  en 
lightened  mind,  fraught  with  the  pureft  principles  of  morality  and  religion.  They  are  characterized 
by  an  el'gant  fimy  licity,  derived  fro'm  a  diligent  ftudy  of  the  beft  claffical  models. 

Hi'  Sermons,  as  the  compofitions  of  a  layman,  merit  particular  attention.  They  are  plain,  ration 
al,  and  inftru&ive  His  Letters  of  Mirsa,  and  Mufiulus,  Hceltb  an  Allegory,  Detrafiion  a  Pi/ion,  JJ^cry 
of  a/.  lnnk:spcr,  ditcover  good  fenfe,  obfervation,  and  tafte,  and  are  very  well  written. 

.As  a  poer,  M-  r  mp'  fitions  are  diftinguifhed  by  a  refined  elegance  of  fentiment,  and  a  correfpon- 
dent  fimphcity  of  cxpreffion.  He  writes  with  eafc  and  corrednefs.  frequently  with  elevation  and 
fpirir.  Hi*  thoughts  are  always  juft,  and  religioufly  pure,  and  his  lines  are  commonly  fmooth  and 
ca'y  ,  but  the  rhymes  are  not  always  fufficiently  correfpondent :  the  words  da-wn  znd^mern,  among: 
ott.ers.  dilappoint  the  ear.  As  piety  predominated  in  his  mind,  it  is  diffufed  over  his  compofitions : 
Under  his  direction,  poetry  may  be  truly  laid  to  be  fubfervierst  to  religious  and  moral  inflruflion. 

4  A  ij 


THE  LIFE   OF   COTTON.  - 

Every  reader  will  regard  with  veneration  the  writer,  who  condefcended  to  laY  afide  the  fcholar  and 
the  philofopher,  to  compote  moral  apologues,  and  little  poems  of  devotion,  "  for  the  entertainment 
and  inftruction  of  younger  minds." 

His  Pi/ions,  the  moft  popular  of  his  productions,  are  not  inferior  to  the  beft  compoGtions  of  that 
kind  in  the  Englifh  language.  They  are  written  in  the  meafure  of  Gay's  "  Fables,"  and,  like  them, 
each  apologue  is  introduced  with  folemn  reflectrons  which  natuially  lead  to  the  ftory ;  but  in  for- 
cibleaefs  of  moral  and  poetical  fpirit,  they  are  unqueftionably  fuperior  to  thefe  popular  corapofitions. 
With  the  utility  of  fentiment,  they  combine  the  beauties  of  pcrfouification  and  allegory,  and  the  e- 
legancies  of  the  higher  poetry.  The  tbird,fc<ventlt  dgltb,  and  nintb  vifions,  have  exceeding  merit. 

His  Fabltt  approach  nearer  to  the  manner  of  Gay ;  but  they  have  lefi  poignancy  of  fetire.  They 
have  great  merit  of  the  moral  kind,  and  are  properly  adapted,  as  well  as  the  fifom,  "  for  the  en 
tertainment  and  inftruction  of  younger  minds."  The  falutary  confequences  that  rcfult  from  inte- 
refting  fables  and  ftories,  are  univerfally  acknowledged.  It  has  been  affertcd  by  Horace,  that 

Omne  tulit  pundtum  qui  mifcuit  utile  dulci ; 
and  the  lapfe  of  age«  has  only  fcrved  to  convince  mankind  of  the  truth  of  the  affertion.  Infancy  it 
foon  wearied  with  the  talk  of  encountering  difficulties ;  and  it  is  poffible  to  fow  the  feeds  of  lafting 
Jifguft  even  at  that  tender  period.  Inftruction,  therefore,  mould  be  conveyed  to  "  younger  minds," 
through  the  medium  of  fables  or  talcs,  which  annex  improvement  to  pleafure,  and  convey  morality, 
as  k  were,  within  the  fragrant  folds  of  the  rofe.  No  coaipofuions  are  better  adapted  to  inculcate 
the  practice  of  fome  virtue,  or  to  difplay  maxims  of  practical  wifdom,  to  direct  us  in  the  purfuitsof 
life.  We  love  to  be  inftructed  while  we  are  amufed  ;  and  exercife  our  critical  fagacity  in  applying 
the  characters  of  the  fable  to  our  acquaintance  or  ourfelves,  in  proportion  to  our  propenfity  for  fa- 
tire,  or  our  defire  of  moral  information.  Rouffeau,  from  an  opinion  that  the  former  inclination- 
predominates,  in  his  famous  critique  on  the  "  Fox  and  Crow,"  of  La  Fontaine,  objects  with  his 
ufual  love  of  parodox,  and  his  ufual  fpirir,  to  this  clafs  cf  compofitions ;  but  it  cannot  be  fuppofeJ 
that  he  expected  his  arguments  would  prevail  upon  mothers  to  withhold  from  their  children  th& 
only  writings  that  can  induce  them  to  read. 

Of  his  mifcellaneous  poems,  The  Fin  Side  is  the  moft  agreeable.    The  fubject  K  univerfally  in- 
tercfting,  the  fentiments  are  pleafing  and  pathe*ic,  and  the  verfification  elegant  and  harmonious. ; 
The  ferfa  to  Hervey,  which  are  generally  known,  as  they  are  prefixed  to  his  "  Meditations,"  j 
contain  an  elegant  and  merited  compliment  to  that  pious  and  amiable  writer.     The  verfes  to  a 
Child  ef  Jive  yean  old  are  exquifitely  beautiful.     The  Ode  tn  the  New  Year  is  pious,  animated,  and 
poetical.    The  Sunday  Hymn  has  exceeding  merit,  and  ranks  with  the  devotional  compoGtions  of 
Addifon  and  Watts.    The  Niglt  Piece  is  diftinguifhed  by  dignity,  variety,  and  originality  of  fenti 
ment  in  a  fuperior  degree.     His  Efitapbt  are  remarkably  elegant,  characterise,  and  pathetic.    Hi* 
lighter  pieces  are  not  deficient  in  eafe  and  fprightlinefs,  and  may  be  read  with  pleafure ;  but  they 
require  no  diftinffc  examination,  or  particular  criticifm. 


THE  WORKS  OF  COTTON. 


VISIONS   IN   VERSE, 

FOR    THE 

ENTERTAINMENT  AND  INSTRUCTION  OF  YOUNGER  MINDS. 


Vlrginibus  puerifque  canto. 


Ho*. 


AN  EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER. 

AUTHORS,  you  know,  of  grcateft  fame, 

Through  modefty  fupprefs  their  name  ; 

And  would  you  wifh  me  to  reveal 

What  thefc  fuperior  wits  conceal  ? 

Forego  the  fearch,  my  curious  friend, 

And  hulband  time  to  better  end. 

All  my  ambition  is,  1  own, 

To  profit  and  to  pleafe  unknown; 

Like  ftreams  fupply'd  from  fprings  below, 

Which  fcatter  bleffings  as  they  flow. 

Were  you  dileas'd,  or  prefs'd  with  pain, 
Strait  you'd  apply  to  *  Warwick-Lane  ; 
The  thoughtful  doctor  feels  your  pulfe, 
(No  matter  whether  Mead  or  Hulfe) 
Writo—  Arabic  to  you  and  me,— 
Then  figns  his  hand,  and  takes  his  fee. 
Now,  ftiould  the  fagc  omit  his  name, 
Would  not  the  cure  remain  the  fame  ? 
Not  but  phyficians  fign  their  bill, 
Or  when  they  cure,  or  when  they  kill. 

'Tis  often  known  the  mental  race 
Their  fond  ambitious  fires  difgrace. 
Dar'd  I  avow  a  parent's  claim, 
Critics  might  fneer,  and  friends  might  blame 
This  dang'rous  fecret  let  me  hide, 
I'll  tell  you  every  thing  bcfide. 
Hot  that  it  boots  the  world  a  tittle, 
Whether  the  author's  big  or  little; 
Or  whether  fair,  or  black,  or  brown  ; 
No  writer's  hue  concerns  the  town. 

I  pafs  the  filent  rural  hour, 
No  flave  to  wealth,  no  tool  to  pow'r, 
My  maniion'«  warm  and  very  neat; 
You'd  fay,  a  pretty  fnug  retreat. 
My  rooms  no  coftly  paintings  grace, 
The  humbler  print  fupplies  their  place. 
Behind  the  houfc  my  garden  lies, 
And  opens  to  the  fouthern  flcies  : 


af  Pkyfic'uuu. 


The  diflant  hills  gay  profpects  yield, 
And  plenty  fmiles  irt  ev'ry  field. 

The  faithful  maftiff  is  my  guard, 
The  feather'd  tribes  adorn  my  ya.  d; 
Alive  my  joy,  my 'treat  when  dead, 
And  their  foft  plumes  improve  my  bed. 

My  cow  rewards  me  all  fhe  can, 
(Brutes  leave  ingratitude  to  man) ; 
She,  daily  thankful  to  her  lord, 
Crowns  with  neclarcous  fweets  my  board. 
Am  I  difeas'd  ?— the  cure  is  known, 
Her  fweetcr  juices  mend  my  own. 

I  love  my  houfe,  and  feldom  roam, 
Few  vifits  pleafe  me  more  than  home. 
I  pity  that  unhappy  elf 
Who  loves  all  company  but  fclf, 
By  idle  paflions  borne  away 
To  op'ra,  mafquerade,  or  play ; 
Fond  of  thofe  hives  where  folly  reigns, 
And  Britain's  peers  receive  her  chains; 
Where  the  pert  virgin  flights  a  name, 
And  fcorns  to  redden  into  fhamc. 
But  know,  my  fair  (to  whom  belong 
The  poet  and  his  artlefs  fong) 
When  female  cheeks  rcfufe  to  glow, 
Farewel  to  virtue  here  below. 
Our  fex  is  loft  to  every  rule, 
Our  fole  diftiuclion,  knave  or  fooL 
'Tis  to  your  innocence  we  run ; 
Save  us,  ye  fair,  or  we're  undone ; 
Maintain  your  modefty  and  ftation, 
So  women  fliall  preferve  the  nation. 

Mothers,  'tis  laid,  in  days  of  old 
Efteem'd  their  girls  more  choice  than  gold  i 
Too  well  a  daughter's  worth  they  knew, 
To  make  her  cheap  by  public  view : 
(Few,  who  their  diamonds'  value  weigh, 
Expofe  thole  diamonds  ev'ry  day) 
Then,  if  Sir  Flume  drew  near,  and  fmil'd| 
The  parent  trembled  for  her  child  : 
The  firft  advance  alarm'd  her  breaft  5 
And  fancy  pi&ur'd  all  the  reft, 
4  AIJJ 


IIIO 


THE   WORKS   OF   COTTON. 


But  no*w  no  mother  fears  a  foe, 

No  daughter  fluidders  at  a  beau. 
Pleafure  is  all  the  reigning  theme, 

Our  noonday  thought,  our  midnight  dream. 

In  folly's  rhace  our  youths  engage, 

And  fhamelefs  crowds  of  tott'ring  age. 

The  die,  the  dance,  th'  intemp'rate  bowl 

"With  various  charms  engrofs  the  foul. 

Are  gold,  fame,  health,  the  terms  of  vice  ? 

The  frantic  tribes  {hall  pay  the  price. 

But  though  to  ruin  poft  they  run, 

They'll  think  it  hard  to  be  undone. 
Do  not  arraign  my  want  of  tafte, 

Or  fight  to  ken  where  joys  are  plac'd. 

They  widely  err,  who  think  me  blind, 

And  I  difclaim  a  ftoic's  mind. 

Like  yours  are  my  fenfations  quite ; 

I  only  ftrive  to  feel  aright. 

My  joys,  like  ftreams.  glide  gently  by, 

Though  fmall  their  channel,  never  dry  ; 

Keep  a  flill,  even,  fruitful  wave, 

And  blefa  the  neighb'ring  meads  they  lave, 
My  fortune  (for  I'll  mention  all, 

And  more  than  you  daie  tell)  is  fmall; 

Yet  ev'ry  friend  partakes  my  ftore, 

And  want  goes  fmiling  from  my  door. 

Willforty  (hillings  warm  the  breaft 

Of  worth  or  induftry  diflrefs'd  ? 

This  fum  I  cheerfully  impart ; 

'Tis  fourfcore  pleafures  to  my  heart. 
And  you  may  make,  by  means  like  thefe, 
Five  talents  ten,  whene'er  you  pleafe. 
'Tis  true,  my  little  purfe  grows  light ; 
But  then  I  fleep  fo  fweet  at  night ! 
This  grand  fpecific  will  prevail, 
When  all  the  doctor's  opiates  fail. 

You  alk,  what  party  I  purfue  ? 
Perhaps  you  mean, "  Whofe  fool  are  you  ?" 
The  names  of  party  I  deleft, 
Badges  of  flavery  at  bell ! 
I've  too  much  grace  to  play  the  knave, 
And  to  much  pride  to  turn  a  Have. 
I  love  my  country  from  my  foul, 
And  grieve  when  knaves  or  fools  controul. 
I'm  pleas'd  when  vice  and  folly  fmart, 
Or  at  the  gibbet  or  the  cart : 
Yet  always  pity,  where  I  can, 
Abhor  the  guilt,  but  mourn  the  man. 

Now  the  religion  of  your  poet- 
Does  not  this  little  preface  fhow  it  ? 
My  vifions  if  you  fcan  with  care, 
*Tis  ten  to  one  you'll  find  it  there. 
And  if  my  a#ions  fuit  my  fong, 
You  can't  in  confcknce  think  me  wrong. 

SLANDER. 

VISION    I. 
INSCRIBED    TO    MISS  ****. 

MY  lovely  girl,  1  write  for  you  ; 
Apd  pray  believe  my  vifions  true  ; 
They'll  form  your  mind  to  tvery  grace ; 
They'll  add  new  beauties  to  your  face : 
And  when  old  age  impairs  your  prime, 
You'll  triumph  o'er  the  fpoils  of  time. 
Childhood  and  youth  engage  my  pen, 
»o  t?lk  to  men. 


Youth  may,  perhaps,  reform,  when  wrong, 

Age  will  not  liften  to  my  fong. 

He  who  at  fifty  is  a  fool, 

Is  far  too  flubborn  grown  for  fchool. 
What  is  that  vice  which  ftill  prevails, 

When  almoft  every  paffion  fails; 

Which  with  our  very  dawn  begun, 

Nor  ends,  but  with  our  fetting  fun; 

Which  like  a  noxious  weed,  can  fpoil 

The  faireft  flow'rs,  and  thoke  the  foil  ? 

'Tis  Slander, — and,  with  fhame  I  own, 

The  vice  of  human  kind  alone. 

Be  Slander  then  my  leading  dream, 

Though  you're  a  ftranger  to  the  theme ; 

Thy  fofter  breaft,  and  honefl.  heart, 

Scorn  the  defamatory  art ; 

Thy  foul  aflei  ts  her  native  Ikies, 

Nor  aflcs  d;  traction's  wings  to  rife ; 

In  foreign  fpoils  let  others  fhine, 

Intrinfic  excellence  is  thine. 

The  bird,  in  peacock's  plumes  who  fhone, 

Could  plead  no  merit  of  her  own : 

They  filly  theft  betray'd  her  pride, 

And  fpoke  her  poverty  befide. 

Th'  infidious  fland'ring  thief  is  \vorfe 

Than  the  poor  rogue  who  fleals  your  purfe. 

Say,  he  purloins  your  glitt'ring  ftore ; 

Who  takes  your  gold,  takes  '  trafli'— no  more  : 

Perhaps  he  pilfers— to  be  fed— 

Ah  !  guiltlefs  wretch,  who  fteals  for  bread } 

But  the  dark  villain,  who  mall  aim 

To  blaft,  my  fair,  thy  fpotlefs  name, 

He'd  fteal  a  precious  gem  away, 

Steal  what  both  Indies  can't  repay ! 

Here  the  ftrong  pleas  of  want  are  vain, 

Or  the  more  impious  pleas  of  gain. 

No  finking  family  to  fave ! 

No  gold  to  glut  th'  infatiate  knave ! 
Improve  the  hint  of  Shakfpeare's  tongue, 

'Twas  thus  immortal  *  Shakfpeare  fung. 
And  truft  the  bard's  unerring  rule, 
For  nature  was  that  poet's  fchool. 
As  I  was  nodding  in  my  chair, 

I  faw  a  rueful  wild  appear : 
No  verdure  met  my  aching  fight, 
But  hemlock,  and  cold  aconite ; 
Two  very  pois'nous  plants,  'tis  true, 
But  not  fo  bad  as  vice  to  you. 

The  dreary  profped  fpread  around ! 
Deep  fnow  had  whitep'd  all  the  ground  i 
A  black  and  barren  mountain  nigh, 
Expos'd  to  ev'ry  friendlefs  iky  ! 
Here  foul-mouth'd  Slander  lay  reclin'd. 
Her  fnaky  treffes  hifs'd  behind: 
"  f  A  bloated  toad-ftool  rais'd  her  head, 
"  The  plumes  of  ravens  were  her  bed:" 
She  fed  upon  the  viper's  brood, 
And  flak'd  her  impious  thirft  with  blood. 

The  rifing  fun  and  wellern  ray 
Were  witnefs  to  her  diftant  fw  ay. 
The  tyrant  claim'd  a  mightier  hoft 
Than  the  proud  Perfian  e'er  could  bcafi, 
No  conqueft  grac'd  Darius'  font; 
By  his  own  numbers  half  undone! 

Othello.      •  •)•   Garth's  Dlffenfar 

Xerxes,  ting  cf  Perjia,  and  fen  of  Darius. 
n-jaded  QrKfe  with  en  army  conjijling  cf  mere  tban 


VISIONS. 


XIII 


Suecefs  attended  Slander's  pow'r, 
She  reap'd  frcfh  laurels  ev'iy  hour. 
Her  troops  a  deeper  fcarlet  wore 
Than  e\er  armies  kne.v  before. 

No  plea  diverts  the  fury's  rage, 
The  fury  fpares  nor  fex  nor  age. 
Ev'n  men  t,  with  deft  rucfive  charms, 
Provokes  the  vengeance  of  htr  arms. 

Whene'er  the  tyrant  founds  to  war, 
Her  cankerM  trump  is  heard  afar. 
Pride,  with  a  heart  unknown  to  yield, 
Commands  in  chief,  and  guides  the  field. 
He  ftalks  with  vaft  gigantic  ftride, 
And  fcatters  fear  and  ruin  wide. 
So  th'  impetuous  torrents  fwecp 
At  once  whole  nations  to  the  deep. 

Revenge,  that  bafe  *Hefperian,  known 
A  chief  lupport  of  Slander's  throne, 
Aniidft  the  bloody  crowd  is  feen, 
And  treach'ry  brooding  in  his  mien ; 
The  monfher  often  chang'd  his  gait, 
But  march'd  refolv'd  and  fix'd  as  fate. 
Thus  fell  the  kite,  whom  hunger  flings, 
Now  flowly  moves  his  outftretch'd  wings; 
Now  fwift  as  lightning  bears  away, 
And  darts  upon  his  trembling  prey. 

Envy  commands  a  fecrGt  band, 
\Vith  (word  and  poifon  in  her  hand. 
Around  her  haggard  eye-balls  roll; 
A  thoufand  fiends  poffbfs  her  foul. 
The  artful,  unfufpe&ed  fpright 
.With  fatal  aim  attacks  by  night. 
Her  troops  advance  with  filent  tread, 
And  (lab  the  hero  in  his  bed ; 
Or  fhoot  the  wing'd  malignant  lie, 
And  female  honours  pine  and  die. 
So  prowling  wolves,  when  darknefs  reigns, 
Intent  on  murder  fcoi:rthe  plains; 
Approach  the  folds,  where  lambs  repofe, 
Whofe  guilelefs  breads  fufpeirt  no  foes ; 
The  favage  gluts  his  fierce  defirss, 
And  bleating  innocence  expires. 

Slander  fmil'd  horribly,  to  view 
How  wide  her  daily  conquefts  grew : 
Around  the  crowded  levees  wait, 
Like  oriental  flaves  of  ftate : 
Of  cither  fex  whole  armies  prefs'd, 
13 ut  chiefly  of  the  fair  and  beft. 

Is  it  a  breach  of  friendfhip's  law 
To  fay  what  female  friends  I  faw  ? 
Slander  affumes  the  idol's  part, 
And  claims  the  tribute  of.  the  heart. 
The  beft,  in  fome  unguarded  hour, 
Have  bow'd  the  knee,  and  own'd  her  pow'r. 
Then  let  the  poet  not  reveal. 
What  candour  wifhcs  to  conceal. 

If  I  beheld  fomc  faulty  fair, 
Much  worfe  delinquents  crowded  there : 
Prelates  in  facred  lawn  I  faw, 
Grave  phyfic,  and  loquacious  law ; 


million  of  men  (fame  fay  more  than  t-uio  miU'ior.s),  11  •.'<>, 
together  "with  their  caltl.-,  perijhed  in  great  meafure 
through  the  inability  of  the  countries  tofupplyfuch  a  ita/! 
tojl  -.i-itl  pro-vijion. 

*   Hefperia  includes  Italy  as  10 ell  as  Spain,  and  tbe 
inhabitants  of  both  are  remarkable  for  thtir  revengeful 


Courtiers,  like  fummer  flics,  abound  ; 
And  hungry  poets  fwarm  around. 
But  now  my  partial  ftoty  ends, 
And  makes  my  females  full  amends. 

If  Albion's  iflc  luch  dreams  fulfils, 
'Tis  Albion's  ifl:  which  cures  thd'c  ills; 
Ferti'e  of  every  worth  and  grace, 
Which  warm  the  heart,  and  fluflj  the  face. 

Fancy  dilclos'd  a  finiling  train 
Of  Britiih  nymphs,  that  tripp'd  the  plain : 
Good-nature  firft,  a  fylvan  queen,  , 

Attir'd  in  robes  of  cheerful  green: 
A  fair  and  (railing  virgin  fhe  ! 
With  ev'iy  charm  that  fhines  in  thce. 
Prudence  affum'd  the 'chief  command, 
And  bore  a  mirrour  in  her  hand ; 
Gray  was  the  matron's  head  by  age, 
Her  mind  by  long  experience  fage ; 
Of  every  diilant  ill  afraid, 
And  anxious  for  the  fimp'ring  maid. 
The  Graces  danc'd  before  the  fair ; 
And  white-rob' d  Innocence  was  there. 
The  trees  with  golden  fruits  were  crown'd, 
And  riling  flow'rs  adorn'd  the  ground ; 
The  fun  difplay'd  each  brighter  ray ; 
And  fhone  in  all  the  pride  of  day. 

When  Sland.-r  ficken'd  at  the  fight, 
And  flculk'd  away  to  fhun  the  light. 

PLEASURE. 

VISION.    II. 

HE.-\R,  ye  fair  mothers  of  our  ifle, 

Nor  fcorn  your  poet's  homely  ftyle. 

What  though  my  thoughts  be  quaint  or  new, 

I'll  warrant  that  my  doctrine's  true : 

Or  if  my  fentiments  be  old, 

Remember,  truth  is  fterling  gold. 

You  judge  it  of  important  weight, 
To  keep  your  riling  offspring  ftrait : 
For  this  fuch  anxious  moments  feel, 
And  aik  the  friendly  aids  of  fteel : 
For  this  import  the  diftant  cane, 
Or  flay  the  monarch  of  the  main. 
And  fhall  the  foul  be  warp'd  aiide 
By  psflfion,  prejudice,  and  pride  ? 
Deformity  of  heart  1  call 
The  worft  deformity  of  all. 
Your  cares  to  body  are  confin'd, 
Few  fear  obliquity  of  mind. 
Why  not  adorn  the  better  part  ? 
This  is  a  nobler  theme  for  art. 
For  what  is  form,  or  what  is  face, 
But  the  foul's  index,  or  its  cafe? 

Now  take  a  fimile  at  hand, 
Compare  the  mental  foil  to  land, 
Shall  fields  be  till'd  with  annual  care, 
And  minds  lie  fallow  ev'ry  year? 
O  fiuce  the  crap  depends  on  you, 
Give  them  the  culture  which  is  due: 
Hoe  every  weed,,  -nd  drcfs  the  foil, 
So  harveft  fhall  repay  your  toil. 

If  human  minds  referable  tree*, 
(As  every  moraliil  agree') 
Prune  all  the  ftragglers  of  your  vine, 
Then  fhali  the  purple  clufters  fhinc. 
The  gard'ner  knows,  that  fruitful  lifo 
Demands  his  falutary.  knife  . 
For  ev'ry  wild  luxuriant  (hoot, 
Or  robs  the  bloom,  or  ftarves  the  fruit. 
4  A  iiij 


THE    WORKS   OF   COTTON. 


A  *fetirift  in  Romsn  times, 
When  Rome,  like  Britain,  groan'd  with  crimes, 
Afferts  it  for  a  facred  truth, 
That  pleafures  are  the  bane  of  youth: 
That  forrows  fuch  purfuits  attend, 
Or  fuch  purfuits  in  forrows  end : 
That  all  the  wild  advent'rer  gains 
Are  perils,  penitence,  and  pains. 

Approve,  ye  fair,  the  Roman  pag$, 
And  hid  your  fons  revere  the  iage  ; 
In  ftudy  fpend  their  midnight  oil, 
And  firing  their  nerves  by  manly  toil. 
Thus  fhall  they  grow  like  Temple  wife, 
Thus  future  Lockes  and  Newtons  rife ; 
Or  hardy  chiefs  to  wield  the  lance, 
And  fave  us  from  the  chains  of  France. 
Yes,  bid  your  fons  betimes  forego 
Thofe  treach'rous  paths  were  pleafures  grow ; 
Where  the  young  mind  is  folly's  flave, 
Where  every  virtue  finds  a  grave. 

Let  each  bright  character  be  nam'd, 
For  wifdom  or  for  valour  fam'd : 
Arc  the  dear  youths  to  fcience  prone  ? 
Tell,  how  th'  immortal  Bacon  fhorie  I 
Who,  leaving  meaner  joys  to  kings, 
Soar'd  high  on  contemplation's  wings ; 
Rang'd  the  f^ir  fields  of  nature  o'er, 
Where  never  mortal  trod  before : 
Bacon !  whofe  vaft  capacious  plan 
Btfpoke  him  angel,  more  than  man  ! 

Dees  love  of  martial  fame  infpire  ? 
Cherifh,  ye  fair,  the  gen'rous  fire ; 
Teach  them  to  fpurn  inglorious  reft, 
And  roufe  the  hero  in  their  breaft; 
Paint  Crefly's  vanquifh'd  field  anew,, 
Their  fouls  fhall  kindle  at  the  view; 
Refolv'd  to  conquer  or  to  fall, 
When  liberty  and  Britain  call. 
Thus  fhall  they  rule  the  crimfon  plain, 
Or  hurl  their  thunders  through  the  main  ; 
Gain  with  their  blood,  ndr  grudge  the  coft, 
What  their  degen'rate  fires  have  loft  : 
The  laurel  thus  fhall  grace  their  brow, 
As  Churchill's  ortce,  or  Warren's  now. 

One  Summer's  evening  as  I  ftray'd 
Along  the  filent  moon-light  glade, 
With  thefc  reflections  in  my  breaft, 
Beneath  an  oak  I  funk  to  reft ; 
A  gentle  flumber  intervenes, 
And  fancy  drefs'd  inftru&ive  fcenes. 

Methought  a  fpaciousroad  1  fpy'd, 
And  (lately  trees  adorn'd  its  fide; 
Frequented  by  a  giddy  crowd 
Of  thoughtlefs  mortals,  vain  and  loud ; 
Who  tripp'd  with  jocund  heel  along, 
And  bade  me  join  their  fmiling  throng. 

I  flrait  obcy'd — perfuafion  hung 
Like  honey  on  the  fpeaker's  tongue. 
A  cloudlefs  fun  improv'd  the  day, 
And  pinks  and  rofes  ftrew'd  our  way. 

Now  as  our  journey  we  pnrfce,     •          / 
A  beauteous  fabric  rofe  to  view, 
A  {lately  dome,  and  fweetly  grac'd 
With  ev'ry  ornament  of  tafte. 
This  ftruclure  was  a  female's  claim, 
And  Pleafurc  was  the  monarch's  ntm:, 

*  Pcrfiut. 


The  hall  we  enter'd  uncontroul'd, 
And  faw  the  queen  enthron'd  on  gold; 
Arabian  fweets  v"*;  i-.im'd  the  ground, 
And  laughing  Cupids  flutter'd  round  ; 
A  flowing  vert  acorn'J  the  fair, 
And  flow'ry  chaplets  wrrath'ci  her  hair: 
Frat:d  taught  tl:e  queen  a  thoufand  wiles, 
A  tr- jufand  foi't  inadious  fmiles; 
Love  taught  her  liiping  tongue  to  fpeak, 
And  form'd  the  liir.ipie  in  her  cheek; 
The  lily  and  the  camafk  rofe, 
The  tincture  of  her  face  compofe; 
Nor  did  the  jrod  pf  wit  difjain 
To  mingle  with  the  fhining  train. 

Her  vot'ries  flock  from  various  parts, 
And  chiefly  youth  refign'd  their  hearts; 
The  old  in  fparing  numbers  prefs'd, 
But  awkward  devotees  at  beft. 
Now  let  us  range  at  large,  we  cry'd, 
Through  all  the  garden's  boafted  pride. 
Here  jafmines  fpread  the  filver  flow'r, 
To  deck  the  wall,  or  weave  the  bow'r , 
The  woodbines  mix  in  am'rous  play, 
And  breathe  their  fragrant  lives  away. 
Here  rifing  myrtles  form  a  fhade, 
There  rofes  blufh,  and  fcent  the  glade, 
Tlic  orange,  with  a  vernal  face, 
Wears  ev'ry  rich  autumnal  grace; 
While  the  young  bloffoms  here  unfold, 
There  fhincs  the  fruit  like  pendent  gold. 
Citrons  their  balmy  fweets  exhale, 
And  triumph  in  the  diftant  gale. 
Now  fountains,  murm'ring  to  the  fong, 
Roll  their  tranfiucent  ftreams  along. 
Through  all  the  aromatic  groves, 
The  faithful  turtles  coo  their  loves. 
The  lark  afcending  pours  his  notes, 
And  linnets  fwell  their  rapt'rous  throats. 

Pleafure,  imperial  fair  !  how  gay 
Thy  empire,  and  how  wide  thy  fway  ! 
Enchanting  queen !  how  foft  thy  reign ! 
How  man,  fond  man  !  implores  thy  chain  I 
Yet  thine  each  meretricious  art, 
That  weakens,  and  corrupts  the  heart. 
The  chiidifh  toys  and  wanton  page 
Which  fink  and  profhitute  the  ftage  I 
The  mafquerade,  that  juft  offence 
To  virtue,  and  reproach  to  fcnfe  ! 
The  midnight  dance,  the  mantling  bcwJ, 
And  all  that  diffipate  the  foul ; 
All  that  to  ruin  man  combine, 
Yes,  fpecious  harlot,  all  are  thine ! 

Whence  fprung  th'  accurfed  luft  of  play, 
Which  beggars  thoufands  in  a  day  ? 
Speak,  forc'tefs,  fpeak  (for  thou  canft  tell) 
Who  call'd  the  treach'rous  card  from  hell  f 
Now  man  profanes  his  reas'ning  pow'rs, 
Profanes  fweet  friendship's  facred  hours; 
Abandon'd  to  inglorious  ends, 
And  faithlefs  to  himfelf  and  friends ; 
A  dupe  to  ev'ry  artful  knave, 
To  ev'ry  abject  wifli  a  flave; 
But  who  againft  himfelf  combines, 
Abets  his  enemy's  defigns. 
When  R  apine  meditates  a  blow, 
He  fhares  the  guilt  who  aids  the  foe. 
Is  man  a  thief  who  fteals  my  pelf  ? 
How  great  his  theft,  who  robs  himfelf! 


VISIONS. 


!$  man,  who  gulls  his  friend,  a.  cheat  ? 

How  heinous  then  is  felf-deceit ! 

Is  murder  juftly  deem'd  a  crime  ? 

How  black  his  guilt,  who  murders  time ! 

Should  cuftom  plead,  as  cuftom  will, 

Grand  precedents  to  palliate  ill, 

Shall  modes  and  forms  avail  with  me, 

When  reafon  difavows  the  plea  '. 

Who  games,  is  felon  of  his  wealth, 

His  time,  his  liberty,  his  health. 

Virtue  forfakes  his  fordid  mind, 

And  Honour  fcorns  to  flay  behind. 

From  man  when  thefe  bright  cherubs  part, 

Ah !  what's  the  poor  d^ferted  heart? 

A  favage  wild  that  mocks  the  fight, 

Or  chaos,  and  impervious  night ! 

Each  gen'rous  principle  deftroy'd, 

And  demons  crowd  the  frightful  void ! 
Shall  Siam'sjflephant  fupply 

The  baneful  defolating  die  ? 

Againft  the  honefl  fylvan's  will, 

You  taught  his  iv'ry  tufk  to  kill. 

Hcav'n,  fond  its  favours  to  difpenfe, 

Gave  him  that  weapon  for  defence. 
That  weapon,  for  his  guard  defign'd, 

You  render'd  fatal  to  mankind. 

He  plann'd  no  death  for  thoughtlefs  youth, 

You  gave  the  venom  to  his  tooth. 
Blum,  tyrant,  blufh,  for  oh !  'tis  true 
That  no  fell  ferpent  bites  like  you. 

The  guefts  were  order'd  to  depart, 
Reluctance  fat  on  ev'ry  heart : 
A  porter  (how'd  a  different  door, 
Not  the  fair  portal  known  before  \ 
The  gates,  methought,  were  open'd  wide, 
The  crowds  defcended  in  a  tide. 
But  oh  !  ye  heav'ns,  what  vaft  furprife 
Struck  the  advent'rers'  frighted  eyes! 
A  barren  heath  before  us  lay, 
And  gath'ring  clouds  obfcur'd  the  day; 
The  darknefs  rofe  in  fmoky  fpires ; 
The  lightnings  flafli'd  their  livid  fires : 
Loud  peals  of  thunder  rent  the  air, 
While  vengeance  chill'd  our  hearts  with  fear. 

Five  ruthlefs  tyrants  fway'd  the  plain, 
And  triumph'd  o'er  the  mangled  flain. 
Here  fat  Diftafte,  with  fickly  mien, 
And  more  than  half-devour'd  with  fpleen : 
There  Hood  Remorfe,  with  thought  oppreft, 
And  vipers  feeding  on  his  bread : 
Then  Want,  dejected,  pale,  and  thin, 
With  bones  juft  ftarting  through  his  flcin ; 
A  ghaftly  fiend !— and  clofc  behind 
Difeafe,  his  aching  head  reclin'd ! 
His  everlafting  thirft  confefs'd 
The  fires,  which  rag'd  within  his  breaft : 
Death  clos'd  the  train  !  the  hideous  form 
Smil'd  unrelenting  in  the  ftorm : 
When  ftrait  a  doleful  mriek  was  heard  ; 
I  'woke— The  vifion  difappcar'd. 
Let  not  the  unexperienc  d  boy 
Deny  that  pleafures  will  deftroy ; 
Or  fay  that  dreams  are  vain  and  wild, 
Like  fairy  tales,  to  pleafe  a  child. 
Important  hints  the  wife  may  reap 
From  failles  of  the  foul  in  flcep. 
And,  fince  there's  meaning  in  my  dream. 
The  moraj  merits  your  efteem. 


HEALTH. 

VISION  III. 


ATTEND  my  vifions,  thoughtlefs  youths, 

Ere  long  you'll  think  them  weighty  truth*; 

Prudent  it  were  to  think  fo  now ;    , 

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

For  he,  who  at  his  early  years 

Has  fown  in  vice,  (hall  reap  in  tears. 

If  folly  has  poflefs'd  his  prime, 

Difeafe  (hall  gather  ftrength  in  time ; 

Poifon  fliall  rage  in  ev'ry  vein,— 

Nor  penitence  dilute  the  ftain : 

And  when  each  hour  fhall  urge  his  fate, 

Thought,  like  the  doctor,  comes  too  late. 

The  fubjecl:  of  my  fong  is  Health, 
A  good  fuperior  far  to  wealth. 
Can  the  young  mind  diftruft  its  worth  ? 
Confult  the  monarch*  of  the  earth: 
Imperial  czars,  and  fultans  own 
No  gem  fo  bright  that  decks  their  throne : 
Each  for  this  pearl  his  crown  would  quit, 
And  turn  a  ruftic  or  a  cit. 

Mark,  though  the  bleffing's  loft  wi 
Ti*  not  recover'd  when  you  pleafe. 
Say  not  that  gruels  (hall  avail, 
For  falutary  gruels  fail. 
Say  not,  Apollo's  fons  fucceed, 
Apollo's  fon  is  Egypt's  *  reed. 
How  fruitlefs  the  phyfician's  (kill, 
How  vain  the  penetential  pill, 
The  marble  monuments  proclaim, 
The  humbler  turf  confirms  the  feme ! 
Prevention  is  the  better  cure, 
So  fays  the  proverb,  and  'tis  fure. 

Would  you  extend  your  narrow  fpan, 
And  make  the  moft  of  life  you  can; 
Would  you,  when  med'cines  cannot  fave. 
Defcend  with  cafe  into  the  grave; 
Calmly  retire,  like  evening  light, 
And  cheerful  bid  the  world  good-night  I 
Let  temp* ranee  conftantly  prefide, 
Our  beft  phyfician,  friend,  and  guide ! 
Would  you  to  wifdom  make  pretence, 
Proud  to  be  thought  a  man  of  fenfe  ? 
Let  temp'rance  (always  friend  to  fame) 
With  fteady  hand  direct  your  aim; 
Or,  like  an  archer  in  the  dark, 
Your  random  (haft  will  mifs  the  mark: 
For  they  who  flight  her  golden  rules, 
In  wifdom' s  volume  ftand  for  fools. 

But  morals,  unadorn'd  by  art, 
Are  feldom  known  to  reach  the  heart. 
I'll  therefore  flrive  to  raife  my  theme 
With  all  the  fcenery  of  dream. 

Soft  were  my  (lumbers,  fweet  my  reft, 
Such  as  the  infant's  on  the  breaft ; 
When  fancy,  ever  on  the  wing, 
And  fruitful  as  the  genial  fpring, 
Prefentcd,  in  a  blaze  of  light, 
A  new  creation  to  my  fight. 

A  rural  landfcape  I  defcry'd, 
Dreft  in  the  robes  of  Summer  pride  ; 
The  herds  adorn'd  the  (loping  hills, 
That  glitter'd  with  their  tinkling  rills ; 
Below  the  fleecy  mothers  ftray'd, 
And  round  their  fportive  lambkins  play'd. 

*  In  allttfnn  to  2  Kings  xviii.  JI4 


THE   WORKS  OF   COTTON. 


Nigh  to  a  murmuring  brook  I  faw 
/n  humble  cottage  thatch'd  with  ftraw  ; 
Behind,  a  garden  that  fupply'd 
All  things  for  ufe,  and  none  for  pride  : 
Beauty  prevailed  through  ev'ry  part, 
But  more  of  nature  than  of  art.  , 

Hail  thou  fweet,  calm,  unenvied  feat !    " 
I  faid,  and  blefs'd  the  fair  retreat : 
Here  would  1  pafs  my  remnant  days, 
Unknown  to  cenfure  or  to  praife  ; 
Forget  the  world,  and  be  forgot, 
As  Pope  defcribes  his  veftal'b  lot. 

While  thus  I  mus'd,  a  beauteous  maid 
Stept  from  a  thicket's  neighb'ring  made ; 
Not  Hampton's  gallery  can  boaft, 
Nor  Hudfon  paint  fo  fair  a  toaft  : 
She  cjaim'd  the  cottage  for  her  own, 
To  Health  a  cottage  is  a  throne. 

The  annals  fay  (to  prove  her  worth) 
The  graces  folemniz'd  her  birth. 
Garlands  of  various  flow'rs  they  wrought, 
The  orchard's  blufhing  pride  they  brought : 
Hence  in  her  face  the  lily  fpeaks, 
And  hence  the  rofe  which  paints  her  cheeks  ; 
The  cherry  gave  her  lips  to  glow, 
Her  eyes  were  debtors  to  the  floe  ; 
And,  to  complete  the  lovely  fair, 
'Tis  faid,  the  chefnut  flain'd  her  hair. 

The  virgin  was  averfe  to  courts, 
Eut  often  feen  in  rural  fports : 
When  in  her  rofy  vert  the  morn 
Walks  o'er  the  dew-befpangled  lawn, 
The  nymph  is  firft  to  form  the  race, 
Or  wind  the  horn,  and  lead  the  chace. 

Sudden  I  heard  a  fhouting  train, 
Glad  acclamations^fill'd  the  plain  -. 
Unbounded  joy  improv'd  the  fcene, 
For  Health  was  loud  proclaim'd  a  queen. 

Two  fmiling  cherubs  grac'd  her  throne, 
(To  modern  courts  1  fear  unknown  ;) 
One  was  the  nympth  that  loves  the  light, 
Fair  Innocence,  array'd  in  white ; 
With  fifter  Peace  in  clofe  embrace, 
And  heav'n  all  opening  in  her  face. 

The  reign  was  long,  the  empire  great, 
And  Virtu  eminifter  of.ftate. 
In  other  kingdoms,  ev'ry  hour, 
You  hear  of  vice  preferr'd  to  pow'r  : 
Vice  was  a  perfect  ftranger  here  : 
No  knaves  engrofs'd  the  royal  ear: 
l>fo  fools  obtain'd  this  monarch's  grace ; 
Virtue  difpos'dof  ev'ry  place. 

What  fickly  appetites  are  ours, 
Still  varying  with  the  varying  hours  ! 
And  though  from  good  to  bad  we  range, 
"  No  matter,"  fays  the  fool,  "  'tis  change." 

Her  fubjects  now  txprefs'd  apace 
Diffatisfaction  in  their  face  : 
Some  view  the  ftate  with  envy's  eye, 
Some  were  difpleas'd    they  knew  not  why  : 
When  Faction,  ever  bold  and  vain, 
With  rigour  tax'd  their  monarch's  reign. 
Thus,  fliould  an'angel  from  above, 
Fraught  with  benevolence  and  love, 
Defcend  to  earth,  and  here  impart 
Important"  truths  to  mend  the  heart ; 
Would  not  th'  inftruc~Hve  gueft  difpenfe 
With  paffion,  appetite,  and  fenfe, 


We  fhould  his  heav'nly  lore  defpife, 
And  fend  him  to  his  former  fkies. 

A  dang'rous  hoftile  power  arofe 
To  Health,  whofe  houfehold  were  her  foes: 
A  harlot's  loofe  attire  fhe  wore, 
And  Luxury  the  name  fhe  bore. 
This  princefs  of  unbounded  fway, 
Whom  Afia's  ibfter  fons  obey, 
Made  war  againft  the  queen  of  Health, 
Affifted  by  the  troops  of  Wealth. 

The  queen  was  firft  to  take  the  field, 
Arm'd  with  her  helmet  and  her  fhield; 
Temper'd  with  fuch  fuperior  art, 
That  both  were  proof  to  ev'ry  dart. 
Two  warlike  chiefs  approach'd  the  green, 
And  wondrous  fav'rites  witk  the  queen  : 
Both  were  of  Amazonian  race, 
Both  high  in  merit,  and  in  place. 
Here  Refolution  march'd,  whofe  foul 
No  fear  could  fhake,  no  pow'r  controul ; 
The  heroine  wore  a  Roman  veft, 
A  lion's  heart  inform'd  her  breaft. 
There  Prudence  fhone,  whofe  bofom  wrought 
With  all  the  various  plans  of  thought ; 
'Twas  her's  to  bid  the  troops  engage, 
And  teach  the  battle  where  to  rage. 
And  now  the  Siren's  armies  prefs, 
Their  van  was  headed  by  Excefs  : 
The  mighty  wings  that  form'd  the  fide, 
Commanded  by  that  giant  Pride  : 
While  Sickhefs,  and  her  fillers  Pain 
And  Poverty  the  centre  gain : 
Repentance,  with  a  brow  fevere, 
And  Death,  were  flation'd  in  the  rear. 

Health  rang'd  her  troops  with  matchlefs  art, 
And  acted  the  defenfive  part : 
Her  army  pofted  on  a  hill, 
Plainly  befpoke  fuperior  fkiil : 
Hence  were  difcover'd  through  the  plain, 
The  motions  of  the  hoftile  train  : 
While  Prudence,  to  prevent  furprife, 
Oft  fally'd  with  her  trufty  fpies; 
Explor'd  each  ambufcade  below, 
And  reconnoitred  well  the  foe. 
Afar  when  Luxury  defcry'd 
Inferior  force  by  art  fupply'd, 
The  Siren  fpake — Let  Fraud  prevail, 
Since  all  my  numerous  hofts  muft  fail ; 
Henceforth  hoflilities  fhall  ceafe, 
I'll  fend  to  Health,  and  offer  peace. 
Strait  fhe  difpatch'd,  with  pow'rs  complete, 
Pleafure,  her  minifter,  to  treat. 
This  wicked  ftrumpet  topp'd  her  part, 
And  fow'd  fedition  in  the  heart ! 
Through  ev'ry  troop  the  poifon  ran, 
All  were  infected  to  a  man. 
The  wary  generals  were  won 
By  Pleafure's  wiles,  and  both  undone. 

Jove  held  the  troops  in  high  difgrace, 
Ajid  bade  difeafes  blaft  their  race  ; 
Look'd  on  the  queen  with  melting  eyes, 
And  fnatch'd  his  darling  to  the  fkies  : 
Who  ftill  regards  thofe  wifer  few, 
That  dare  her  dictates  to  purfue. 
For  where  her  ftricter  law  prevails, 
Though  Paffion  prompts,  or  Vice  affails; 
Long  fhall  the  cloudlefs  ikies  behold, 
And  their  calm  fun-fet  beam  with  gold. 


VISIONS. 


CONTENT. 

VISION  IV. 

MAN  is  deceiv'dby  outward  {how— 
'Tis  a  plain  homefpun  truth,  1  know, 
The  fraud  prevails  at  ev'ry  age, 
So  fays  the  fchool-boy  and  the  fage; 
Yet  {till  we  hug  the  dear  deceit, 
And  flill  exclaim  againft  the  cheat. 
But  whence  this  inconfittent  part  ? 
Say,  moralifts,  who  know  the  heart : 
If  you'll  this  labyrinth  purfue, 
I'll  go  before,  and  find  the  clue. 

I  dreamt  ('twas  on  a  birth-day  night) 
A  fumptuous  palace  rofe  to  fight ; 
The  builder  had,  through  ev'ry  part, 
Obferv'd  the  chafteft  rules  of  art ; 
Raphael  and  Titian  had  difplay'd 
All  the  full  force  af  light  and  {hade : 
Around  the  livery'd  fervauts  wait ; 
An  aged  porter  kept  the  gate. 

As  I  was  traverfing  the  hall, 
Where  Bruffels'  looms  adorn'd  the  wall, 
(Whofe  tap'ftry  fhows,  without  my  aid, 
A  nun  is  no  fuch  ufelcfs  maid), 
A  graceful  perfon  came  in  view, 
(His  form,  it  feems,  is  known  to  few)  ; 
His  drefs  wasunadorn'd  with  lace, 
Uut  charms !  a  thoufand  in  his  face. 

This,  fir,  your  property  ?  I  cry'd— 
Matter  and  manfion  coincide : 
Where  all,  indeed,  is  truly  great, 
And  proves  that  blifs  may  dwell  with  ftate. 
Pray,  fir,  indulge  a  ftranger's  claim, 
And  grant  the  favour  of  your  name. 

"  Content,"  the  lovely  form  reply'd; 
But  think  not  here  that  I  refide ; 
Here  lives  a -courtier,  bafe  and  fly; 
An  open,  honeft  ruftic,  I. 
Our  tafte  and  manners  difagree, 
His  levee  boaits  no  charms  for  me  :    ' 
For  titles  and  the  fmiles  of  kings, 
To  me  are  cheep  unheeded  things. 
('Tis  virtue  can  alone  impart 
'1  he  patent  of  a  ducal  heart: 
Unlefs  this  herakt  {peaks  him  great, 
What  {hall  avail  the  glare  of  hate)  ? 
Thofe  fecret  charms  are  my  delight, 
Which  fliine  remote  from  public  fight : 
Paflions  fubdu'd,  defires  at  reft— 
And  hence  his  chaplain  {hares  my  breaft. 

There  was  a  time  (his-grace  can  tell) 
I  knew  the  duke  exceeding  well ; 
Knew  ev'ry  fecret  of  his  heart ; 
In  truth,  we  never  were  apart: 
But  when  the  court  became  his  end, 
He  turn'd  his  back  upon  his  friend. 

One  day  I  call'd  upon  his  grace, 
Jufl  as  the  duke  had  got  a  place  : 
i  thought  (but  thought  amifs,  'tis  clear), 
I  {hou'd  be  welcome  to  the  peer, 
Yes,  welcome  to  a  man  in  pow'r; 
And  fo  I  was — for  half  an  hour. 
But  he  grew  weary  of  his  gueft, 
And  foon  difcarded  me  his  breaft ; 
Upbraided  me  with  want  of  merit, 
But  rcofl  far  poverty  of  fpirit. 


You  relifii  not  the  great  man's  lot  ? 
Come  hallen  to  my  humbler  cot. 
Think  me  not  partial  to  the  great, 
I'm  a  fworn  foe  to  prid/  and  ftatc  ; 
No  monarchs  {hare  my  kind  embrace, 
There's  fcarce  a  monarch  knows  my  face : 
Content  fhuns  courts,  and  oft'ner  dwells 
With  modeft  -worth  in  rural  cells; 
There's  no  complaint,  though  brown  the  bread, 
Or  the  rude  turf  fuftain  the  head ; 
Though  hard  the  couch,  and  coarle  the  meat, 
Still  thcbrovn  loaf  and  fleep  are  iuect. 

Far  from  the  city  I  refide, 
And  a  thatch'd  cottage  all  my  pride. 
True  to  my  heart,  I  ieldom  roam, 
Becaufe  1  find  my  joys  at  home. 
For  foreign  vifits  then  begin, 
Whin  the  man  feels  a  void  within. 

But  though  from  towns  and  crowds  I  fly, 
No  humorift  nor  cynic,  I. 
Aniidft  fequcfter'd  {hades  I  prize 
The  friendships  of  the  goon  ai:d  wife. 
Bid  Virtue  and  her  fons  attend, 
Virtue  will  tell  thee  I'm  her  fiiend: 
Tell  thee  I'a.  faithful,  conftant,  kind, 
Arid  meek  and  lowly,  and  refi;;n'<! ; 
Will  fay,  there's  no  diftjn«5liou  known 
Betwixt  her  houfehold  and  my  own. 

Author. 

If  thefe  the  friendihips  you  purfue, 
Your  friends,  \  fear,  are  very  few. 
So  little  company,  you  fay, 
Yet  fond  of  home  frcm  day  to  d:-.y  ? 
How  do  you  fhun  detraction's  rod  ? 
I  doubt  your  neighbours  think  you  odd! 

Content. 

I  commune  with  myfelf  at  night, 
And  afk  my  heart  if  all  be  right : 
If,  "  right,"  replies  my  faithful  breafl, 
I  fmile,  and  clofe  my  eyes  to  reft. 

Author, 

You  feem  reganjlefs  of  the  town: 
Pray,  fir,  how  ftand  you  with  the  gown  ? 
,  Content. 

The  clergy  fay  they  love  me  well, 
Whether  they  do,  they  bcft  can  tell : 
They  paint  me  modeft,  friendly,  wife, 
And  always  praife  me  to  the  fkies ; 
But  if  conviction's  at  the  heart, 
Why  not  a  correfpondent  part  ? 
For  {hall  the  learned  tongue  prevail, 
If  actions  preach  a  different  tale  I 
Who'll  f'jek  my  door  or  grace  my  walls, 
When  neither  dean  nor  prelate  calls  ? 

With  thofe  my  friendinips  moft  obtain, 
Who  prize  their  duty  more  than  gain ; 
Soft  flow  the  hours  whene'er  we  meet, 
And  confcious  virtue  is  our  treat : 
Our  harmlefs breaft  no  envy  know, 
And  hence  we  fear  no  fecret  foe ; 
Our  walks  ambition  ne'er  attends, 
And  hence  we  afk  no  powerful  friends; 
We  wifli  the  beft  to  church  and  ftate, 
But  leave  the  Peerage  to  the  great ; 
Carelefs,  who  rifes,  or  who  falls, 
And  never  dream  of  vacant  flails; 
Much  lels,  by  pride  or  int'reft  drawn, 
Sigh  for  the  mitre,  and  the  lawn.  ^A, 


THE    WORKS  OF   COTTON. 


Obfenrc  the  fecrcts  of  my  art, 
I'll  fundamental  truth's  impart: 
If  you'll  my  kind  advice  purfue, 
I'll  quit  my  hut,  and  dwell  with  you. 

The  paifioii?  are  a  num'rous  crowd, 
Imperious,  pofitive,  and  loud ; 
Curb  thefe  licentious  fons  of  ftrife  ; 
Hence  chiefly  rife  the  ftornis  of  life: 
If  they  grow  mutinous,  and  rave, 
They  are  thy  matters,  thou  their  flave. 

Regard  the  world  with  cautious  eye, 
Nor  raife-  your  expectation  high. 
See  that  the  balan'c'd  fcales  be  fuch, 
You  neither  fear  nor  hope  too  much. 
For  difappointment's  not  the  thing, 
*Tis  pride  and  paflion  point  the  fling. 
Life  is  a  fea  where  ftorms  mufl  rife, 
Tis  folly  talks  of  cloudlefs  flcies : 
He  who  contracts  his  fwelling  fail, 
Eludes  the  fury  of  the  gale. 

Be  ftill,  nor  anxious  thoughts  employ, 
Diftruft  embitters  prefent  joy  :  \ 

On  God  for  all  events  depend ; 
You  cannot  want  when  God's  your  friend. 
"Weigh  well  your  part,  and  do  your  beft ; 
Leave  to  your  Maker  all  the  reft. 
The  hand  which  form'd  thee  in  the  womb, 
Guides  from  the  cradle  to  the  tomb. 
Can  the  fond  mother  flight  her  boy ; 
Can  flic  forget  her  prattling  joy  ? 
Say  then,  (hall  fov'teign  love  defert 
The  humble,  and  the  honeft  heart  ? 
Heav'n  may  not  grant  thee  all  thy  mind; 
Yet  fay  not  thou  that  Heav'n's  unkind. 
God  is  alike,  both  good  and  wife, 
In  what  he  grants,  and  what  denies : 
Perhaps-,  what  goodnefs  gives  to-day, 
To-morrow  goodnefs  takes  a  way. 

You  fay,  that  troubles  intervene, 
That  forrows  darken  half  the  fcene. 
Trtie— and  this  confequence  you  fee, 
The  world  was  ne'er  defign'd  for  thee : 
You're  Hke  a  paffcnger  below, 
That  ftays  perhaps  a  night  or  fo ; 
But  ftill  his  native  country  lies 
Beyond  the  bound'ries  of  the  ikies. 

Of  Heav'n  aflc  virtue,  wifdom,  health, 
But  never  let  thy  pray'r  be  wealth. 
If  food  be  thine  (though  little  gold), 
And  raiment  to  repel  the  cold  ; 
Such  as  may  nature's  want  fuffice, 
Not  what  from  pride  and  folly  rife ; 
If  foft  the  motions  of  thy  foul, 
And  a  calm  confidence  crowns  the  whole ; 
Add  but  a  friend  to  all  this  ftorc, 
You  can't  in  reafon  wifh  for  more : 
And  if  kind  Hcav'n  thns  comfort  brings, 
'Tis  more  than  Heav'n  beftows  on  kings. 

He  fpake— the  airy  fpeclre  flies, 
And  ftrait  the  fweet  illufi.cn  dies. 
The  vifion,  at  the  early  dawn, 
Confign'd  me  to  the  thoughtful  morn ; 
To  all  the  cares  of  waking  clay, 
And  inconfitlent  dreams  of  day. 

HAPPINESS. 

VISION   V. 

Yz  ductile  youths,  whofe  rifing  fun 
Hath  many  circles  ftill  to  run ; 


Who  wifely  wifh  the  pilot' »  charf, 
To  ftcer  through  life  th'  unfteady  heart; 
And  all  the  thoughtful  voyage  paft, 
To  gain  a  happy  port  at  laft : 
Attend  a  Seer's  inftruftive  fong, 
For  moral  truths  to  dreams  belong. 

I  faw  this  wondrous,  vifion  foon, 
Long  ere  my  fun  had  reach'd  its  noon ; 
Jufl  when  the  rifiog  beard  began 
To  grace  my  chin,  and  call  nit  man. 

One  night,  when  balmy  flumbers  fhed 
Their  peaceftil  poppies  o'er  my  head, 
My  fancy  led  me  to  explore 
A  thoufand  fcenes  unknown  before. 
I  faw  a  plain  extended  wide, 
And  crowds  pour'd  in  from  ev'ry  fide  : 
All  feem'd  to  ftart  a  tiiff'rent  game, 
Yet  all  declar'd  their  views  the  fame : 
The  chace  was  Happinefs,  I  found, 
But  all,  alas!  enchanted  ground. 

Indeed  I  judg'd  it  wondrous  flrange, 
To  fee  the  giddy  numbers  range 
Through  roads,  which  promis'd  nought,    at  bcflj 
But  forrow  to  the  human  breaft. 
Methought,  if  blifs  was  all  their  view, 
Why  did  they  diff'rent  paths  purfue? 
The  waking  world  has  long  agreed, 
That  Bagfhot's  not  the  road  to  Tweed: 
And  he  who  Berwick  feeks  through  Staines, 
Shall  have  his  labour  for  his  pains. 

As  Parnel  *  fays,  my  bofom  wrought 
With  travail  of  uncertain  thought : 
And,  as  an  angel  help'd  the  dean, 
My  angel  chofe  to  intervene  ; 
The  drefs  of  each  was  much  the  fame, 
And  Virtue  was  my  feraph's  name. 
When  thus  the  angel  filence  broke, 
(Her  voice  was  mufic  as  fhe  fpoke), 

Attend,  O  man,  nor  leave  my  fide, 
And  fafety  fhall  thy  footfteps  guide ; 
Such  truths  I'll  teach,  fuch  fecrets  fhow, 
As  none  but  favour'd  mortals  know. 

She  faid — and  ftrait  we  march'd  along 
To  join  Ambition's  active  throng : 
Crowds  urg'd  on  crowds  with  eager  pace, 
And  happy  he  who  left  the  race. 
Axes  and  daggers  lay  unieen 
In  ambufcade  along  the  green ; 
While  vapours  fhed  delufive  light, 
And  bubbles  mock'd  the  diftant  fight. 

We  faw  a  fhining  mountain  rife, 
Whofe  tow'ring  fummit  reach'd  the  fkies : 
The  flopes  were  fteep,  and  form'd  of  glafs, 
Painful  and  hazardous  to  pal's : 
Courtiers  and  ftatefmen  led  the  way, 
The  faithlefs  paths  their  fteps  betray ; 
This  moment  feen  aloft  to  foar, 
The  next  to  fall,  and  rife  no  more. 

'Twas  here  Ambition  kept  her  court, 
A  phantom  of  gigantic  port ; 
The  fav'rite  that  fuftain'd  her  throne, 
Was  Falfehood,  by  her  vizard  known ; 
Next  flood  Miftrutl,  with  frequent  figh, 
Difordcr'd  look,  and  fquinting  eye ; 
While  meagre  Envy  claim'd  a  place, 
And  Jealouly,  with  jaundic'd  fate. 

*  Tk»  Hemit. 


VISIONS. 


But  where  it  Happinef,  ?  I  cry'd. 

My  guardian  turn'd,  ;md  thus  reply'd  : 
Mortal,  by  folly  fi.il!  bf^.!  I'd, 

Thou  haft  not  yet  outfhij'p  d  the  child; 

Thou,  who  haft  twenty  winters  feen, 

(I  hardly  think  thee  paft  fifteen) 

To  aflc  if  Happinefs  can  dwell 

With  every  dirty  imp  of  hell ! 

Go  to  the  fchool-boy,  he  {hall  preach, 

What  twenty  winters  cannot  teach  ; 

He'll  tell  thee,  from  his  weekly  theme, 

That  thy  purfuit  is  all  a  dream : 

That  Blifs  ambitious  views  difowns, 

And  felf-dependeni,  laughs  at  thrones; 

Prefers  the  fhadcs  and  lowly  feats, 

Whither  fair  Innocence  retreats : 

So  the  coy  lily  of  the  vale, 

Shuns  eminence,  and  loves  the  dale. 

I  blufh'd;  and  now  we  crofs'd  the  plain, 

To  find  the  money-getting  train; 

Thofe  filent,  fnug,  commercial  bands, 

With  bufy  looks,  and  dirty  hands. 

Amidil  thefe  thoughtful  crowds  the  old 

Plac'd  all  their  Happinefs  in  gold. 
And  furcly,  if  there's  blifs  below, 

Thefe  hoary  head*  the  fecret  know. 
We  journey'd  with  the  plodding  crew, 

When  foon  a  temple  rofe  to  view  : 
A  Gothic  pile,  with  mofs  o'ergrown ; 
Strong  were  the  walls,  and  built  with  ftone. 
Without  a  thoufand  maftiffs  wait : 

A  thoufand  bolts  fecure  the  gate. 

We  fought  admiflion  long  in  vain  : 

For  here  all  favours  fell  for  gain : 

The  greedy  porter  yields  to  gold, 

His  fee  receiv'd,  the  gates  unfold. 

Aficmbled  nations  here  we  found, 

And  view'd  the  cringing  herds  around, 

Who  daily  facrific'd  to  Wealth, 

Their  honour,  confcience,  peace,  and  health. 

I  faw  no  charms  that  could  engage ; 

The  god  appear'd  like  fordid  age, 

With  hooked  nofe,  and  famiih'd  jaws, 

But  ferpents'  eyes,  and  harpies'  claws : 

Behind  ftood  Fear,  that  reltlefs  fpright, 

Which  haunts  the  watches  of  the  night ; 

And  Viper-Care,  that  flings  fo  deep, 

Whofe  deadly  venom  murders  fleep. 

We  haften  now  to  Pleafure's  bow'rs ; 
Where  the  gay  tribes  fat  crown'd  with  fiow'rs ; 
Here  Beauty  every  charm  difplay'd, 
And  Love  inflam'd  the  yielding  maid  : 
Delicious  wine  our  tafte  employs, 
His  crimfon  bowl  exalts  our  joys : 
I  felt  its  gen'rous  pow'r,  and  thought 
The  pearl  was  found,  that  long  I  fought. 
Determin'd  here  to  fix  my  home, 
I  blefs'd  the  change,  nor  wilh'd  to  roam  : 
The  Seraph  difapprov'd  my  (lay, 
Spread  her  fair  plumes,  and  wing'd  away* 

Alas!  whene'er  we  talk  of  blifs,, 
How  prone  is  man  to  judge  amifs ! 
See,  a  long  train  of  ills  confpires 
To  fcourge  our  nncontroul'd  defircs. 
Like  Summer  fwarms  Difeafcs  crowd, 
Each  bears  a  crutch,  or  each  a  fliroud 
Fever  t  that  thirfty  fury,  came, 
inextinguifhable  flume ; 


Confumption,  fvrcm  ally  of  Death! 
Crept  (lowly  on  with  panting  breath ; 
Gout  roar'd,  and  fhow'd  his  throbbing  feet; 
And  Dropfv  took  the  drunkard's  feat : 
Stone  brought  his  ton'ring  racks ;  and  near 
Sat  Pally  fhaking  in  her  chair ! 

A  mangled  youth,  beneath  a  ftiade, 
A  melancholy  fcene  difplav'd  : 
His  nofelefe  face,  and  loathfome  ftains, 
Proclaim'd  the  poifon  in  his  veins ; 
He  rais'd  his  eyes,  he  fmote  his  breaft, 
He  wept  aloud,  and  thus  addrefs'd  : 
Forbear  the  harlot's  falfe  embrace, 
Though  Lewdnefs  wear  an  angel's  face. 
Be  wife,  by  my  experience  taught, 
I  die,  alas  !  for  want  of  thought. 

As  he  who  travels  Lybia's  plains, 
Wltere  the  fierce  Lion  lawlefs  reigns, 
Is  feiz'd  with  fear  and  wild  difinay, 
Whin  the  grim  foe  obftrudls  his  way : 
My  foul  was  pierc'd  with  equal  fright, 
My  tott'ring  limbs  oppos'd  my  flight ; 
I  call'd  on  Virtue,  but  in  vain, 
Her  abfence  quicken'd  every  pain : 
At  length  the  flighted  angel  heard, 
The  dear  refulgent  form  appear'd. 

Prefumptuous  youth!  fhe  faid,  and  frown'd; 
(My  heart-ftrings  flutter'd  at  the  found) 
Who  turns  to  me  reluctant  ears, 
Shall  fhed  repeated  floods  of  tears. 
Thefe  rivers  fhall  for  ever  laft, 
There's  no  retracting  what  is  pafj : 
Nor  think  avenging  ills  to  fhun ; 
Play  a  falfe  card,  and  you're  undone. 

Of  Pleafure's  gilded  baits  beware, 
Nor  tempt  the  Syren's  fatal  fnare : 
Forego  this  curs'd,  detefted  place, 
Abhor  the  ftrumpet  and  her  race : 
Had  you  thofe  fofter  paths  purfu'd, 
Perdition,  ftripling,  had  enfu'd : 
Yes,  fly— —you  fland  upon  its  brink ; 
To-morrow  is  too  late  to  think. 
Indeed,  unwelcome  truths  I  tell, 

But  mark  my  facred  leflbn  well : 

With  me  whoever  lives  at  flrife, 

Lofes  his  better  friend  for  life ; 

With  me  who  lives  in  friend  (hip's  ties, 

Finds  all  that's  fought  for  by  the  wife. 

Folly  exclaim  j,  and  well  fhe  may, 

Bccaufe  1  take  her  malk  away ; 

If  once  I  bring  her  to  the  fun, 

The  painted  harlot  is  undone. 

But  prize,  my  child,  oh !  prize  my  rule», 

And  leave  deception  to  her  fools. 
Ambition  deals  in  tinfel  toys, 

Her  traffic  gewgaws,  fleeting  joys ! 

An  arrant  juggler  in  difguife, 

Who  holds  falfe  optics  to  your  eyes. 

But  ah !  how  quick  the  fhadows  pafs ; 

Though  the  bright  vifions  through  her  glafs 

Charm  at  a  diftauct; ;  yet,  when  near, 

The  bafelefs  fabrics  disappear. 
Nor  Riches  boaft  intrinfic  worth, 

Their  charms  at  beft,  fuperior  earth : 

Thefe  oft  the  heav'n-'jorn  mind  enflaxr, 

And  make  an  honeit  man  a  knave. 

"  Wealth  cures  my  wants/'  the  Mifer  cries* 

Be  not  decdv'J— cjje  Mifer  lies; 


THE   WORKS   OF   COTTON. 


One  want  he  has,  \vith  all  his  {lore, 
That  wortt  of  wants !  the  want  of  more. 

Take  Pleafure,  Wealth,  and  Pomp  away, 
And  where  is  Happinefs  ?  you  fay 

'Tis  here — and  may  be  yours — for,  know 
I'm  all  that's  Happinefs  below. 

To  Vice  I  leave  tumultuous  joys, 
Mine  is  the  ftill  and  fofter  voice  ; 
That  whifpers  peace,  when  ftorms  invade, 
And  mufic  through  the  midnight  fhade. 

Come  then,  be  mine  in  ev'ry  part, 
Nor  give  me  lefs,  than  all  your  heart ; 
When  troubles  difcompofe  your  breaft, 
I'll  enter  there  a  cheerful  gu.ft : 
My  converfe  fhall  your  cares  beguile, 
The  little  world  within  fhall  finile ; 
And  then  it  fcarce  imports  a  jot, 
Whether  the  great  world  frowns  or  not. 

And  when  the  clofing  fcenes  prevail, 
When  wealth,  ftate,  pleafure,  all  fhall  fait'; 
All  that  a  foolifh  world  admires, 
Or  paflion  craves,  or  pride  infpires ; 
At  that  important  hour  of  need, 
Virtue  fhall  prove  a  friend  indeed  ! 
Mjr  hands  fhall  fmooth  thy  dying  bed, 
My  armsfuftain  thy  drooping  head  : 
And  when  the  painful  ftruggle's  o'er, 
And  that  vain  thing,  the  World,  no  more ; 
I'll  bear  my  fav'rite  fon  away 
To  rapture,  and  eternal  day. 

FRIENDSHIP. 

VISION  VI. 

FRIENDSHIP!  thou  foft,  propitious  pow'r ! 
Sweet  regent  of  the  focial  hour  ! 
Sublime  thy  joys,  nor  underftood, 
But  by  the  virtuous  and  the  good  ! 
Cabal  and  Riot  take  thy  name, 
But  'tis  a  falfe  affected  claim. 
In  heav'n  if  Love  and  Frienclfhip  dwell, 
Can  they  affociate  e'er  with  hell ! 

Though  art  the  fame  through  change  of  times, 
Through  frozen  zones,  and  burning  climes: 
From  the  equator  to  the  pole, 
The  fame  kind  angel  through  the  whole. 
And,  fiace  thy  choice  is  always  free, 
I  blefs  thee  for  thy  fmiles  on  me. 

When  forrows  f>vell  the  temped  high, 
Thou,  a  kind  port,  art  always  nigh  ; 
For  aching  hearts  a  fov'reign  cure, 
Not  foft  Nepenthe  *  half  fo  fure  ! 
And  when  returning  comforts  rife, 
Thou  the  bright  fun  that  gilds  our  fkies. 

While  thefe. ideas  warm'dmy  breaft, 
My  weary  eye-lids  flole  to  reft; 
When  fancy  re-afTum'd  the  theme, 
And  furnifh'd  this  inftructive  dream. 

I  fail'd  upon  a  ftormy  fea, 
(Thoufands  embark'd  alike  with  me) 
My  flciff  was  fmall,  and  weak  befide, 
Not  built,  methought,  to  ftem  the  tide. 

*  Nepenthe  is  an  berk,  ivhich  being  infufed  in  -wine, 
difptlt  grief.      It  L  unknown  to  the  moderns  ;  but  fame 
it  a  kind  of  opium,  and  others  take  it  for  affe- 

Flia.  ai,  jif.,  &  25.  a. 


The  winds  along  the  furges  fweep, 
The  wrecks  lie  fcatter'd  through  the  deep  }' 
Aloud  the  foaming  billows  roar, 
Unfriendly  rocks  forbid  the  fhore. 

While  all  our  various  courfe  purfue, ' 
A  fpacious  ifle  falutes  our  view. 
Two  queens,  with  tempers  diff'ring  wide, 
This  new  difcover'd  world  divide. 
A  river  parts  their  proper  claim, 
And  Truth  its  celebrated  name. 

One  fide  a  beauteous  tract  of  ground 
Prefents,  with  living  verdure  crown'd. 
Thefeafons  temp'rate,  foft,  and  mild, 
And  a  kind  fun  that  always  fmil'd. 

Few  ftorms  moleft  the  natives  here  ; 
Cold  is  the  only  ill  they  fear. 
This  happy  clime,  and  grateful  foil, 
With  plenty  crowns  the  lab'rer's  toil. 

Here  Friendfhip's  happy  kingdom  grew, 
Her  realms  were  fmall,  her  fubjects  few. 
A  thoufand  charms  the  palace  grace, 
A  rock  of  adamant  its  bafe. 
Though  thunders  roll,  and  lightnings  fly, 
•This  ilructure  braves  the  inclement  Iky. 
Ev'n  Time,  which  other  piles  devours, 
And  mocks  the  pride  of  human  pow'rs, 
Partial  to  Friendfhip's  pile  alone, 
Cements  the  joints,  and  binds  the  ftone ; 
Ripens  the  beauties  of  the  place ; 
And  calls  to  life  each  latent  grace. 

Around  the  throne  in  order  Hand 
Four  Amazons,  a  trufty  band ; 
Friends  ever  faithful  to  advife, 
Or  to  defend  when  dangers  rile. 
Here  Fortitude  in  coat  of  mail ! 
There  Juflicc  lifts  her  golden  fcale  ! 
Two  hardy  chiefs !  who  pcrfevere, 
With  form  erect,  and  brow  fevere; 
Who  fmile  at  perils,  pains,  and  death, 
And  triumph  with  their  latcft  breath. 

Tcmp'rance,  that  comely  matron's  near*, 
Guardian  of  all  the  Virtues  here ; 
Adorn'd  with  ev'ry  blooming  grace, 
Without  one  wrinkle  in  her  face. 

But  Prudence  mod  attracts  the  fight, 
And  fliincs  pre-eminently  bright. 
To  view  her  various  thoughts  that  rife, 
She  holds  a  mirror  to  her  eyes ; 
The  mirror,  faithful  to  its  charge, 
Reflects  the  virgin's  foul  in  large. 

A  virtue  with  a  fofter  air, 
Was  handmaid  to  the  regal  fair. 
This  nymph,  indulgent,  conftant,  kind, 
Derives  from  Heav'n  her  fpotfcfs  mind : 
When  actions  wear  a  dubious  face, 
Puts  the  beft  meaning  on  the  cafe  ; 
She  fpreads  her  arms,  and  bares  her  breaft, 
Takes  in  the  naked  and  diftrefs'd; 
Prefers  the  hungry  orphan's  cries, 
And  from  her  queen  obtains  fupplies. 
The  maid  who  acts  this  lovely  part, 
Grafp'd  in  her  hand  a  bleeding  heart. 
Fair  Charity '  be  thou  my  gueft, 
And  be  thy  conftant  couch  my  breafl. 

But  Virtues  of  inferior  name, 
Crowd  rourid  the  throne  with  equal  claim; 
in  loyalty  by  none  furpafsM, 
They  hold  allegiance'  to  the  laft. 


VISIONS. 


Not  ancient  records  e'er  can  {how 
That  one  deferted  to  the  foe. 

The  rivtr's  other  fide  difplay'd 
Alternate  plots  of  flow'rs  and  ihade, 
Where  poppies  fhone  with  various  hue, 
Where  yielding  willows  plenteous  grew; 
And  Humble  *  plants,  by  travelers  thought 
With  flow  but  certain  poifon  fraught. 
Beyond  thefe  fcenes,  the  eye  defcry'd 
A  pow'rful  realm  extended  wide, 
Whofe  bound'ries  from  north-caft  begun, 
And  ftrctch'd  to  meet  the  fouth-weft  full. 
Here  Flatt'ry  boafts  defpotic  fway, 
And  bafks  in  all  the  warmth  of  day. 

Long  praclis'd  in  Deception's  fchool, 
The  tyrant  knew  the  arts  to  rule  ; 
ETated  with  the  imperial  robe, 
She  plans  the  conqueft  of  the  globe; 
And  aided  by  her  fervile  trains, 
Leads  kings,  and  fons  of  kings,  in  chains. 
Her  darling  minifter  is  Pride, 
(Who  ne'er  was  known  to  change  his  fide) 
A  friend  to  all  her  interefls  juft, 
And  aiSlive  to  diicharge  his  truft; 
Carefs'd  alike  by  high  and  low, 
The  idol  of  the  belle  and  beau : 
In  ev'ry  fhape  he  fhows  his  {kill, 
.  And  forms  her  fubjecls  to  his  will ; 
Enters  their  houfes  and  their  hearts, 
And  gains  his  point  before  he  parts. 
Sure  never  miniftcr  was  known 
So  zealous  for  his  fov'reign's  throne  ! 

Three  lifters,  fimilar  in  mien. 
Were  maids  of  honour  to  the  queen: 
Who  farther  favours  fhar'd  befide, 
As  daughters  of  her  ftatefman  Pride. 
The  firft,  Conceit,  with  tow'ring  crefl, 
Who  look'd  with  fcorn  upon  the  relt ; 
Fond  of  herfelf,  nor  lefs,  I  deem, 
Than  duchefs  in  her  own  efteem. 

Next  Affectation,  fair  and  young, 
With  half-form'd  accents  on  her  tongue, 
Whofe  antic  fhapes,  and  various  face, 
Diftorted  every  native  grace. 

Then  Vanity,  a  wanton  maid, 
Flaunting  in  Bruflels  and  brocade; 
Fantaftic    frolickfome,  and  wild, 
With  all  the  trinkets  of  a  child 

The  people,  loyal  to  the  queen, 
Wore  their  attachment  in  their  mien  : 
With  cheerful  heart  they  homage  paid, 
And  happieft  he  who  moft  obey'd. 
While  they  who  fought  their  own  applaufe, 
Promoted  moft  their  fov'reign's  caufe. 
The  minds  of  all  \\tre  fraught  with  guile, 
Their  manners  difiolute  and  vile ; 
And  every  tribe,  like  Pagans,  run 
To  kneel  before  the  rifing  fun. 

But  now  fome  cinm'rous  founds  arifc, 
And  all  the  pleating  vifion  flies. 

Once  more  1  clos'd  my  eyes  to  fleep, 
And  gain'd  th'  imaginary  deep  ; 
Fancy  prefided  at  th.  helm, 
And  ileer'd  me  back  to  Friendfliip's  realm. 

*  fi  tmlle  plant  bends  Jo-wn  before  tbe  touch, 
'as  tie  .-  tivc  plant  jbrinks  from  tic  touch),  and  is 
aid  fyf  »  o  bs  tbe  flmu  foifja  of  tbe  Indians. 

' 


But  oh!   with  horror  I  relate 
The  revolutions  of  her  ftate. 
The  Trojan  chief  cou'd  hardly  more 
His  Afiatic  tow'rs  deplore. 

For  Flatt'ry  view'd  thofe  fairer  plains, 
With  longing  eyes,  where  Friendfhip  reigns, 
With  envy  heard  her  neighbour's  fame, 
And  often  figh'd  to  gain  the  fame. 
At  length,  by  pride  and  int'refl  fir'd, 
To  Friendftiip's  kingdom  (lie  aipir'd. 

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

The  river  Truth  the  hofts  vvithftood, 
And  roll'd  her  formidable  flood. 
Her  current  ftrong,  and  deep  and  clear, 
No  fords  were  found,  no  ferries  near: 
But  as  the  troops  approach'd  the  waves, 
Their  fears  fuggeft  a  thoufand  graves ; 
They  all  retir'd  with  hafte  extreme, 
And  fhudder'd  at  the  dang'rous  ilream. 

Hypocrify  the  gulf  explores; 
She  forms  a  bridge,  and  joins  the  fhores. 
Thus  often  art  or  fraud  prevails, 
When  military  prowefs  fails. 
The  troops  an  eafy  paffage  find. 
And  Vict'ry  follows  clofe  behind. 

Friendlhip  with  ardour  charg'd  Pier  foes, 
And  now  the  fight  promifcuous  grows; 
But  Flatt'ry  threw  a  poifon'd  dart, 
And  pierc'd  the  Emprefs  to  the  heart. 
The  Virtues  all  around  were  fcen 
To  fall  in  heaps  about  the  queen. 
The  tyrant  ftript  the  mangled  fair, 
She  wore  her  fpoils,  aflum'd  her  air  ; 
And  mounting  next  the  iufF'rer's  throne, 
Claim'd  the  queen's  titles  as  her  own. 

Ah  !  injur'd  maid,  aloud  1  cry'd, 
Ah  !  injur'd  maid,  the  rocks  reply'd : 
But  judge  my  griefs,  and  fharc  them  too, 
For  the  fad  tale  pertains  to  you  ; 
Judge,  reader,  how  fevere  the  wound, 
When  Friendlhip's  foes  were  mine,  I  found; 
When  the  fad  fcene  of  pride  and  guile 
Was  Britain's  poor  degen'rate  ifle. 

The  Amazons,  who  propp'd  the  ftatc, 
Haply  furviv'd  the  gen'ral  fate. 
Juflice  to  Powis-Houfe  is  fled, 
And  Yorke  ndlains  her  radiant  head. 
The  virtue  Fortitude  appears 
In  open  day  at  Ligonier's ; 
Illuftrious  heroine  of  the  flcy, 
Who  leads  to  vanquifli  or  to  die ! 
'Twasfhe  our  vet'ransbreafts  infpir'd, 
When  Belgia's  faithlefs  fons  retir'd: 
For  Tournay'9  treach'rous  tow'rs  can  tell 
Britannia's  children  greatly  fell. 

No  partial  virtue  of  the  plain  ! 
She  rous'd  the  lions  of  the  main  : 
Hence  *  Vernon's  little  fleet  fucceeds, 
And  hence  the  gen'rous  f  Cornwall  bleeds ! 
Hence  J  Greenville  glorious  ! — for  fhe  frail' d 
On  the  young  hero  from  a  child. 

*  At  Petto  Bella. 

•j-  Agatnjl  tbe  combined ficcts  of  France  anJ  Spain* 

\  Died  in  a  later  engagement  <witb  tbe  fretubjle.it, 


THE  WORKS   OF  COTTON. 


Though  in  high  life  fuch  virtues  dwell, 
They'll  fuit  plebeian  brcafts  as  well. 
Say,  that  the  mighty  and  the  great 
Blaze  like  meridian  funs  of  ftate ; 
Effulgent  excellence  difplay, 
Uke  Hallifax,  in  floods  of  day; 
Our  leffer  orbs  may  pour  their  light, 
L.ike  the  mild  crefcent  of  the  night. 
Though  pale  our  beams,  and  fmall  our  Sphere, 
Still  we  may  mine  ferene  and  clear. 

Give  to  the  judge  the  fcarlet  gown, 
To  martial  fouls  the  civic  crown : 
What  then  ?  is  merit  their's  alone  ? 
Have  we  no  worth  to  call  our  own  ? 
Shall  we  not  vindicate  our  part, 
In  the  firm  breaft,  and  upright  heart  ? 
Reader,  thefe  virtues  may  be  thine, 
Though  in  fuperior  light  they  fliine. 
I  can't  difcharge  great  Hardwick's  truft— 
True— but  my  foul  may  ftill  be  juft. 
And  though  I  can't  the  ftate  defend, 
Til  draw  the  fword  to  ferve  my  friend. 

TVo  golden  Virtues  are  behind, 
Of  equal  import  to  the  mind  ; 
Prudence,  to  point  out  Wifdom's  way, 
Or  to  reclaim  us  when  we  ftray ; 
Temp'rance,  to  guard  the  youthful  heart, 
When  Vice  and  Folly  throw  the  dart ; 
Each  Virtue,  let  the  world  agree, 
Daily  refides  with  you  and  me. 
And  when  our  fouls  iu  friendfhip  join, 
We'll  deem  the  focial  bond  divine ; 
Through  ev'ry  fcene  maintain  our  truft, 
Nor  e'er  be  timid  or  unjuft. 
That  breaft  where  Honour  builds  his  throne, 
That  breaft  which  Virtue  calls  her  own, 
Nor  int'reft  warps,  nor  fear  appalls, 
When  danger  frowns,  or  lucre  calls. 
No !  the  true  friend  collected  ftands, 
Fearlefs  his  heart,  and  pure  his  hands. 
Let  int'reft  plead,  let  ftorms  arife, 
He  dares  be  honeft,  though  he  dies. 

MARRIAGE. 

VISION  VII.     * 

Infcribtd  tf>  Mifs  ****. 

FAIREST,  this  vifion  is  thy  due, 
1  form'd  th'  inftru&ive  plan  for  you. 
Slight  not  the  rule*  of  thoughtful  age, 
Your  welfare  actuates  every  page ; 
But  ponder  well  my  facred  theme, 
And  tremble,  while  you  read  my  dre^m. 

Thofe  awful  words,  "  'Till  death  do  part," 
May  well  alarm  the  youthful  heart : 
No  after-thought  when  once  a  wife ; 
The  die  is  caft,  and  caft  for  life ; 
Yet  thoufands  venture  ev'ry  day, 
As  fome  bafe  paflion  lead's  the  way. 
I'ert  Silvia  talks  of  wedlock-fcenes, 
Though  hardly  enter 'd  on  her  teens  ; 
Smiles  on  her  whining  fpark,  and  hears 
The  fugar'd  fpeech  with  raptur'd  ears ; 
Impatient  of  a  parent's  rule, 
She  leaves  her  fire,  and  weds  a  fool. 
Want  enters  at  the  guardlefs  door, 
And  love  is  fled,  to  eome  no  more. 


Some  few  there  are  of  fordid  moflij, 
Who  barter  youth  and  bloom  for  gold  ; 
Car'elefs  with  what,  or  whom  they  mater 
Their  ruling  paflion's  all  for  ftate. 
But  Hymen,  gen'rous,  juft,  and  kind, 
Abhors  the  mercenary  mind  : 
Such  rebels  groan  beneath  his  rod, 
For  Hymen's  a  vindictive  god ; 
Be  joylefs  ev'ry  night,  he  laid, 
And  barren  be  their  nuptial  bed. 

Attend,  my  fair,  to  Wifdom's  voice, 
A  better  fate  (hall  crown  thy  choice. 
A  married  life,  to  fpeak  the  beft, 
Is  all  a  lottery  confeft : 
Yet  if  my  fair  one  will  be  wife, 
1  will  injure  my  girl  a  prize  ; 
Though  not  a  prize  to  match  thy  worth, 
Perhaps  thy  equal's  not  on  earth. 

*Tis  an  important  point  to  know, 
There's  no  perfection  here  below. 
Man's  an  odd  compound,  after  all, 
And  ever  has  been  fince  the  fall. 
Say,  that  he  loves  you  from  his  foul, 
Still  man  is  proud,  nor  brooks  controuL 
And  though  a  flave  in  Love's  foft  fchool, 
In  wedlock  claims  his  right  to  rule. 
The  beft,  in  fhort,  has  faults  about  him, 
If  few  thofe  faults,  you  muft  not  flout  him. 
With  fome,  indeed,  you  can't  difpenfe, 
As  want  of  temper,  and  of  fenfe. 
For  when  the  fun  deferts  the  fkies, 
And  the  dull  evening  winters  rife, 
Then  for  a  hufband's  focial  pow'r, 
To  form  the  calm,  converfive  hour ; 
The  treafures  of  thy  breaft  explore, 
From  that  rich  mine  to  draw  tlie  oar ; 
Fondly  each  gen'rous  thought  refine, 
And  give  thy  native  gold  to  fhine ; 
Shew  thee,  as  really  thou  art, 
Though  fair,  yet  fairer  ftill  at  heart. 

Say.  when  life's  purple  bloffoms  fads. 
As  foon  they  muft,  thou  charming  maid ; 
When  in  thy  cheeks  the  rofes  die, 
And  ficknefs  clouds  that  brilliant  eye ; 
Say,  when  or  age  or  pains  invade, 
And  thole  dear  limbs  mail  call  for  aid ; 
If  thou  ait  fetter'd  to  a  fool, 
Shall  not  his  tranfient  pafOon  cool  ? 
And  when  thy  health  and  beauty  end. 
Shall  thy  weak  mate  perfift  a  friend  ? 
But  to  a  man  of  fenfe,  my  dear, 
Ev'n  then  thou  lovely  fhalt  appear; 
He'll  lhare  the  griefs  that  wound  thy  heartf 
And  weeping  claim  the  larger  part ; 
Though  age  impairs  that  beauteous  face, 
He'll  prize  the  pearl  beyoud  its  cafe. 

In  wedlock  when  the  fexes  meet, 
Friendfhip  is  only  then  complete. 
"  Bleft  ftate  !  where  fouls  each  other  draw, 
"  Where  love  is  liberty  and  law !" 
The  choiceft  blefling  found  below, 
That  man  can  wifh,  or  Heaven  beftow ! 
Tiuft  me,  thefe  raptures  are  divine, 
For  lovely  Chloe  once  was  mine ! 
Nor  fear  the  varnifh  of  my  ftyle, 
Though  poet,  I'm  eftrang'd  to  guile. 
Ah  me  !  my  faithful 'lips  impart 
The  genuine  language  of  my  heart ! 


VISIONS. 


When  bards  extol  their  patroni  high, 
Perhaps  'tis  gold  extorts  the  lie ; 
Perhaps  the  poor  reward  of  bread — 

But  who  burns  incenfe  to  the  dead  ? 

He,  whom  a  fond  .iffeclion  draws, 
Carelefs  of  cenfure  or  applaufe; 
Whole  foul  is  upright  and  fincere, 

With  nought  to  with,  and  nought  to  fear. 
Now  to  my  vifionary  fcheme 

Attend,  and  profit  by  my  dream. 
Amidft  the  flumbers  of  the  night, 

A  ftately  temple  "rofe  to  fight ; 

And  ancient  as  the  human  race, 

If  nature's,  purpofes  you  trace  ; 

This  fane,  by  all  the  wife  rever'd, 

To  wedlock's  pow'rful  god  was  rear'd. 

Hard  by  I  faw  a  graceful  fage, 

His  locks  were  frofted  o'er  by  age  ; 

His  garb  was  plain,  his  mind  ferene, 

And  wifdom  dignified  his  mien. 

With  curious  fearch  his  name  I  fought, 

And  found  'twas  Hymen's  fav'rite — Thought. 
Apace  the  giddy  crowds  advance, 

And  a'lewd  fatyr  led  the  dance : 

I  griev'd  to  fee  whole  thoufands  run, 

For  oh  !  what  thoufands  were  undone  ! 

The  fage,  when  thefe  mad  troops  he  fpy'd, 

In  pity  flew  to  join  their  fide : 

The  difconcerted  pairs  began 

To  rail  againft  him,  to  a  man; 

Vow'd  they  were  ftrangers  to  his  name, 

Nor  knew  from  whence  the  dotard  came. 
But  mark  the  fequel — for  this  truth 

Highly  concerns  impetuous  youth: 

Long  ere  the  honey-moon  could  wane, 

Perdition  feiz"d  on  ev'ry  twain ; 

At  ev'ry  houfe,  and  all  day  long, 

Repentance  ply'd  her  fcorpion  thong ; 

Difguft  was  there  with  frowning  mien, 

And  every  wayward  child,  of  Spleen. 
Hymen  approarh'd  his  awful  fane, 

Attended  by  a  num'rous  train  : 

Love  with  each  foh  and  namelefs  grace^ 

Was  firft  in  favour,  and  in  place  : 

Then  came  the  god  with  folemn  gait, 
Whofe  ev'ry  word  was  big  with  fate; 

His  hand  a  flaming  taper  bore, 

That  facred  fymbol,  fam'd  of  yore  : 

Virtue,  aflorn'd  with  ev'ry  charm, 

Suftain'd  the  god's  incumbejit  arm; 

Beauty  improv'd  the  glowing  fcene 

With  all  the  rofes  of  eighteen : 

Youth  led  the  gaily-fmiling  fair, 

His  purple  pinions  wav'd  in  air  : 

Wealth,  a  clofe  hunks,  walk'd  hobbling  nigh, 

With  vulture-claw,  and  eagle-eye, 

Who  threefcore  years  had  feen  or  more, 

('Tis  faid  his  coat  had  feen  a  fcore;) 

Proud  was  the  wretch,  though  clad  in  rags, 

Prcfuming  much  upon  his  bags. 

A  female  next  her  arts  difplay'd, 
Ppets  alone  can  paint  the  maid  : 
Truft  me,  Hogarth,  (though  great  thy  fame) 
'Twould  pofe  thy  flcill  to  draw  the  fame; 
And  yet  thy  mimic  pow'r  is  more 
Than  ever  painter's1  was  before  : 
Now  fhe  was  fair  as  cygnet's  down, 
NOW  as  Mat  Prior's  Emma,  brown  ; 
VOL.  XI. 


And,  changing  as  the  changing  flow'r, 
Her  drefs  fhe  vary'd  ev'ry  hour  : 
"Twas  Fancy,  child !— You  know  the  fair, 
Who  pins  your  gown,  and  fets  your  hair. 

Lo  !  the  god  mounts  his  throne  of  ftate> 
And  fits  the  arbiter  of  fate  : 
His  head  with  radiant  glories  dreft, 
Gently  reclin'd  on  Virtue's  breaft: 
Love  took  his  ftation  on  the  tight, 
His  quiver  beam'd  with  golden  light. 
Beauty  ufurp'd  the  fecond  place, 
Ambitious  of  diftinguifh'd  grace  ; 
She  claim'd  this  ceremonial  joy, 
Becaufc  related  to  the  boy  ; 
(Said  it  was  her's  to  point  his  dart, 
And  fpeed  its  paffage  to  the  heart) ; 
While  on  tlv  god's  inferior  hand 
Fancy  and  Wealth  obtain'd  their  {land. 
And  now  the  hallow'd  rites  proceed, 
And  now  a  thoufandheart-ftrings  bleed. 
I  faw  a  blooming  trembling  bride, 
A  toothlefs  lover  join'd  her  fide ; 
Averfe  fhe  turn'd  her  weeping  face, 
And  fliudtkr'd  at  the  cold  embrace. 

But  various  baits  their  force  impart: 
Thus  titles  lie  at  Celia's  heart : 
A  paffion-much  too  foul  to  name, 
Cofts  fupercilious  prudes  their  fame : 
Prudes  wed  to  publicans  and  finners; 
The  hungry  poet  weds  for  dinners. 

The  god  with  frown  indignant  view'd 
The  rabble  covetous  or  lewd  ; 
By  ev'ry  vice  his  altars  ftairi'd, 
By  ev'ry  fool  his  rites  profan'd : 
When  Love  complain'd  of  Wealth  aloud, 
Affirming  Wealth  debauch'd  the  crowd; 
Drew  up  in  form  his  heavy  charge, 
Defiring  to  be  heard  at  large. 
-   The  god  confents,  die  throng  divide, 
The  young  efpous'd  the  plaintiff" s  fide : 
The  old  declar'd  for  the  defendant, 
For  Age  is  Money's  fvvorn  attendant. 

Love  faid,  that  wedlock  was  defign'd 
By  gracious  Heav'n  to  match  the  mind; 
To  pair  the  tender  and  the  juft, 
And  his  the  delegated  truft : 
That  Wealth  had  play'd  «knavifh  part, 
And  taught  the  tongue  to  wrong  the  heart ; 
But  what  avails  the  faithlefs  voice  ? 
The  injur'd  heart  difdains  the  choice.— 

Wealth  ftrait  reply'd,  that  Love  was  blind 
And  talk'd  at  random  of  the  mind  : 
That  killing  eyes,  and  bleeding  hearts, 
And  all  th'  artillery  of  darts, 
Were  long  ago  exploded  fancies, 
And  laugh'd  at  even  in  romances. 
Poets  indeed  fbyle  Love  a  treat, 
Perhaps  for  wan:  of  better  meat : 
I  And  Love  might  be  delicious  fare, 
j  Cou'd  we,  like  poets,  live  on  air. 
|  But  grant  thu.t  ar.gels  feaft  on  Love, 
I  (Thofe  purer  efiences  above) 
Yet  Albion'*  fons,  he  underftood; 
Preferr'd  a  more  fubftantial  food. 
Thus  while  with  gibes  he  drefs'd  his  caufe, 
His  ^ray  admirers  hemm'd  applaufe. 

With  feeming  conqueft  pert  and  proud, 
Wealth  fliook  his  fides,  and  chuckled  loud-, 
4B 


THE   WORKS   OF   C«TT0N. 


When  Fortune,  to  reftrain  his  pride, 

And  fond  to  favour  Love  befide, 

Op'ning  the  mifcr's  tape-ty'd  vcft, 

Difclos'd  the  Cares  which  flung  his  breafl : 

Wealth  flood  abafh'd  at  his  difgrace, 

And  a  deep  crimfon  flufh'd  his  face. 
Love  fweetly  fimper'd  at  the  figiif, 

His  gay  adherents  laugh'd  outright. 

The  god,  though  grave  his  temper,  fmil'd, 

For  Hymen  dearly  priz'd  th:  child. 

But  he  who  triumphs  o'er  his  brother, 

In  turn  is  laugh'd  at  by  another. 

Such  cruel  fcores  we  often  find 

Repaid  the  criminal  in  kind. 

For  Poverty,  that  famifh'd  fiend  ! 

Ambitious  of  a  wealthy  friend, 

Advanc'd  into  the  Mifer's  place, 

And  ftar'd  the  ftripling  in  the  face ; 

Whofe  lips  grew  pale,  and  cold  as  clay  ; 

I  thought  the  chit  would  fwoon  away. 
The  god  was  ftudious  to  employ 

His  cares  to  aid  the  vanquifh'd  boy  ; 
And  therefore  iflu'd  his  decree, 

That  the  two  parties  ftrait  agree. 
When  both  obey'd  the  god's  commands, 
And  Love  and  Riches  join'd  their  hands. 

What  wond'rous  change  in  each  was  wrought, 
Believe  me,  fair,  furpaffes  thought. 
If  Love  had  many  charms  before, 
He  now  had  charms,  ten  thoufand  more. 
If  Wealth  had  ferpents  in  his  breafl, 
They  now  were  dead,  or  lull'd  to  reft. 

Beauty,  that  vain  affefled  thing, 
Who  join'd  the  hymeneal  ring, 
Approach'd  with  round  unthinking  face, 
And  thus  the  trifler  Hates  her  cafe. 

She  faid,  that  Love's  complaints,  'twas  known 
Exadly  tally*  d  with  her  own  ; 
That  wealth  had  learn'd  the  felon's  arts, 
And  robb'd  her  of  a  thoufand  hearts; 
Dcfiring  judgment  againfl  Wealth, 
For  falfehood,  perjury,  and  ftealth : 
All  which  ftie  could  on  oath  depofe, 
And  hop'd  the  court  would  flit  his  nofe. 

But  Hymen,  when  he  heard  her  name, 
Call'd  her  an  interloping  dame ; 
Look'd  through  the  crowd  with  angry  Hate, 
And  blam'd  the  porter  at  the  gate, 
For  giving  entrance  to  the  fair, 
When  (he  was  no  efieutial  there. 

To  fink  this  haughty  tyrant's  pride, 
He  order'd  Fancy  to  prefide. 
Hence,  when  debates  on  beauty  rife, 
And  each  bright  fair  difputes  the  prize, 
To  Fancy's  court  we  ftrait  apply, 
And  wait  the  fentence  of  her  eye ; 
In  Beauty's  realms  fhe.holds  the  feal?, 
And  her  awards  preclude  appeals. 

LIFE. 

VISION    VIII. 

X-KT  not  the  young  my  precepts  fhun ; 
Who  flight  good  counfels,  are  undone. 
Your  poet  fung  of  Love's  delights, 
Of  halcyon  days  and  joyous  nights; 
To  the  g?y  fancy  lovely  themes; 
And  fain  I'd  hope  they're  more  than  dreams. 
6 


But,  if  you  pleafe,  before  we  part, 
I'd  fpeak  a  language  to  your  heart. 
We'll  talk  of  Life,  though  much,  I  fear, 
Th'  ungrateful  tale  will  wound  your  ear. 
You  raife  your  fanguine  thoughts  too  higfi. 
And  hardly  know  the  reafon  why : 
But  fay  Life's  tree  bears  golden  fruit, 
Some  canker  fhall  corrode  the  root; 
Some  unexpected  ftorm  fhall  rife ; 
Or  fcorching  funs,  or  chilling  fkies; 
And  (if  experienc'd  truths  avail) 
All  your  autumnal  hopes  fhall  fail. 
"  But,  Poet,  whence  fuch  wide  extremes  ? 

"  Well  may  you  ftyle  your  labours  Dreams. 

"  A  fon  of  forrow  thou,  I  ween, 

Whofc  vifions  are  the  brats  of  Spleen. 
Is  blifs  a  vague  unmeaning  name — 
Speak  then  the  paffions'  ufe  or  aim ; 
Why  rage  defires  without  controul, 
And  roufe  fuch  whirlwinds  in  the  foul; 
Why  Hope  erecfts  her  tow'ring  creft, 
And  laughs,  and  riots  in  the  breafl  ? 
Think  not,  my  weaker  brain  turns  round1, 
Think  not,  I  tread  on  fairy  ground. 
Think  not,  your  pulfe  alone  beats  true- 
Mine  makes  as  healthful  mufic  too. 
Our  joys,  when  life's  foft  fpring  we  tracg. 
Put  forth  their  early  buds  apace. 
See  the  bloom  loads  the  tender  fhoot, 
The  bloom  conceals  the  future  fruit. 
Yes,  manhood's  warm  meridian  fun 

"  Shall  ripen  what  in  fpring  begun. 

"  Thus  infant  rofes,  ere  they  blow, 

"  In  germinating  clufters  grow ; 

"  And  only  wait  the  fummer's  ray, 

"  To  burfl  and  blofibm  to  the  day." 
What  faid  the  gay  unthiaking  boy  ?— 

Methought  Hilario  talk'd  of  joy  ! 

Tell,  if  thou  canfl,  whence  joys  arift, 

Or  what  thofe  mighty  joys  you  prize, 

You'll  find  (and  truft  fuperior  years) 

The  vale  of  life  a  vale  of  tears. 

Could  Wifdom  teach,  where  joys  abound, 

Or  riches  purchafe  them,  when  found, 

Would  fcepter'd  Solomon  complain, 

That  all  was  fleeting,  falfe,  and  vain  ? 

Yet  fcepter'd  Solomon  could  fay, 

Returning  clouds  obfcur'd  his  day. 

Thofe  maxims^  which  the  preacher  drevf> 

The  royal  fage  experienc'd  true. 

He  knew  the  various  ills  that  wait 

Our  infant  and  meridian  ftate; 

That  toys  our  earlieft  thoughts  engage. 

And  diff 'rent  toys  maturer  age  ; 

That  grief  at  ev'ry  ftage  appears, 

But  diff' rent  griefs  at  diff 'rent  years; 

That  vanity  is  feen,  in  part, 

Infcrib'd  on  ev'ry  human  heart ; 

In  the  child's  breaft  the  fpark  began, 

Grows  with  his  growth,  and  glares  in  man. 

But  when  in  life  we  journey  late, 

If  follies  die,  do  griefs  abate  ? 

Ah  !  what  is  Life  at  fourfcore  years  ?—       [tears  ! 

One  dark,  rough  road  of  fighs,  groans,  pains,  and 
Perhaps  you'll  think  I  ad  the  fame, 

As  a  fly  fharper  plays  his  game  : 

You  triumph  ev'ry  deal  that's  paft, 

He's  lure  to  triumph  at  the  laft } 


VISIONS. 


Who  often  wins  fame  trloufahds  rtiore 
Than, twice  the  fura  yoii  won  before. 
But  I'm  a  lofcr  with  the  reft, 
For  Life  is  all  a  deal  at  Left  ; 
Where  not  the  prize  of  wealth  or  fame, 
Repays  the  trouble  of  the  game; 
(A  truth  no  winner  e'er  cleny'd, 
An  hour  before  that  winner  dy'd). 
Not  that  wiih  me  thefe  pri/es  fhine, 
For  neither  fame  nor  wealth  are  mine. 
My  cards !—  a  weak  plebeian  band, 
With  fcarce  an  honour  in  my  hand, 
And,  fincc  my  trumps  are  very  few,  , 
What  have  I  more  to  boaft  than  y«m ! 
Nor  am  I  gainer  by  your  fall ! 
That  harlot  Fortune  bubbles  all. 

'Tis  truth  (receive  it  ill  or  well) 
'Tis  melancholy  truth  I  tell. 
Why  ftiould  the  preacher  take  yourpencCj 
And  Another  truth  to  flatter  fenfe  ? 
I'm  fure,  phylicians  have  no  rtierit, 
Who  kill,  through  lenity  of  fpirit. 

That  Life's  a  game,  divines  confefs, 
This  fays  at  cards,  and  that  at  chefs : 
But  if  our  views  be  center'd  here, 
'Tis  all  a  lofing  game,  1  fear. 

Sailors,  you  know,  when  wars  obtain,' 
And  hollile  veffels  crowd  the  main, 
If  they  difcover  from  afaf 
A  bark,  as  difcant  as  a  ftar, 
Hold  the  perfpedtive  to  their  eyes, 
To  learn  its  colours,  ftrength,  and  fize; 
And  when  this  fecret  once  th<" y  know,' 
Make  ready  to  receive  the  fit. 
Let  you  and  I  from  failors  learn 
Important  truths  of  like  concern.' 

1  clos'd  the  day,  as  cuftom  led. 
With  reading,  till  the  time  of  bed; 
Where  Fancy,  at  the  midnight  hour, 
Again  difplay'd  her  magic  pow'r, 
(For  know,  that  Fancy  like  a  fpright, 
Prefers  the  filent  fcenes  of  night.) 
She  lodg'd  me  in  a  neighb'ring  wood, 
yo  matter  where  the  thicket  flood  ; 
The  genius  of  the  place  wab  rii;;h, 
And  held  two  pictures  to  my  eye. 
The  curious  painter  had  pourtray'd 
Life  in  each  jtiit  and  genuine  lhade. 
They,  who  have  only  known  its  dawn, 
May  think  thefe  lines  too  c'eeply  drawn  j 
But  riper  years,  I  fear,  will  flievv, 
The  wifer  artift  paints  too  true. 

One  piece  prefcnts  a  rueful  wild, 
Where  not  a  fummcr's  fun  had  i'mil'd : 
The  road  with  thorns  iscovcr'd  wide, 
And  Grief  fits  weeping  by  the  fide  ; 
Jier  tears  with  conftant  tenor  flow, 
And  form  a  mournful  lake  below  ; 
Whofe  filent  waters,  dark  and  deep, 
Through  all  the  gloomy  valley  creep. 

Paflions  that  flatter,  or  that  flay, 
Are  beafts  that  fawn,  or  birds  that  prey. 
Here  Vice  affumes  the  ferpent's  fhape  ; 
There  Folly  perfonates  the  ape  ; 
Here  Av'rice  gripes  with  harpies'  claws; 
There  Malice  grins  with  tygcrs,'  jaws  ; 
While  fons  of  mifchief,  Art  and  Guile, 
Are  alligators  of  (fee  N.k-. 


Ev'n  Pleafure  ads  a  treach'rous  part, 
She  charms  the  fenfe,  but  ftings  the  heart; 
And  when  (he  gulls  us  of  our  wealth, 
Or  that  fuperior  pearl,  our  health, 
Reftoresus  nought  but  pains  and  woe, 
And  drowns  us  in  the  lake  below. 

There  a  con>niflion'd  angel  ftar.J., 
With  defolation  in  his  hands  ! 
He  fends  the  all-devouring  flame, 
And  cities  hardly  boaft  a  name : 
Or  wings  the  peitilentjal  blaft, 
And  lo 7  ten  thou'fands  breathe  their  la'ft  : 
He  fpeaks — obedient  tempefts  roar, 
And  guilty  nations  are  no  more  : 
He  fpeaks — the  fury  Difcord  raves, 
And  fvvecps  whole  armies  to  their  graves : 
Or  Famine  lifts  her  mildew'd  hand, 
And  Hunger  howls  through  all  the  land. 

Oh  !  what  a  wretch  is  man,  I  cry'd, 
F.xpos'd  to  death  on  ev'ry  fide! 
And  fure  as  born,  to  be  undone 
Ey  evils  which  he  cannot  fliun  ! 
Befides  a  thoufand  baits  to  fin, 
A  thoufand  traitors  lodg'd  within  ! 
For  loon  as  Vice  aflaults  the  heart, 
The  rebels  take  the  demon's  part. 

I  figh,  my  aching  bofom  bleeds; 
When  ftrait  the  milder  plan  fucceeds. 
The  lake  of  tears,  the  dreary  ftiore, 
The  fame  as  in  the  piece  before. 
But  gleams  of  light  are  here  difplay'd, 
To  cheer  the  eye  and  gild  the  fliade. 
Affliction  fpeaks  a  fofter  ftyle, 
And  Difappointment  wears  a  fmile. 
A  group  of  Virtues  bloflbm  near, 
Their  roots  improve  by  ev'ry  tear. 

Here  Patience,  gentle  maid  !  is  nigh, 
To  calm  the  ftorm,  and  wipe  the  eye  ; 
Hope  acfts  the  kind  phyfician's  part, 
And  warms  the  folitary  heart ; 
Religion  nobler  comfort  brings, 
Dilaims  our  griefs,  or  blunts  their  flings; 
Points  out  the  balance  on  the  whole, 
Aiid  Heav'n  rewards  the  ftruggling  foul. 

But  while  thefe  raptures  I  purfue, 
The  genius  fuddenly  withdrew. 

DEATH. 

VISION    IX. 

'Tis  thought  my  Vifions  are  too  grave*  ; 
A  proof  I'm  no  defigning  knaVe. 
Perhaps  if  Int'reft  held  the  fcales, 
I  had  dcvis'd  quite  difFrent  tales  ; 
Had  join'd  the  laughing  low  buffoon, 
And  fcribbled  fatire  and  lampoon  j 
Or  ftirr'd  each  fource  of  foft  defire, 
And  fann'd  the  coals  of  wanton  fire ; 
Thtn  had  my  paltry  Vifions  fold, 
Yes,  all  my  dreams  had  turn'd  to  gold; 
Had  prov'd  the  darlings  of  the  town, 
And  I— -a  p'oet  of  renown  ! 

Let  not  my  avveful  theme  furprife, 
Let  no  unmanly  fears  arife. 

*  See  tb:  Monthly  Rsvirw  of  New  Bosh,  far  Ft* 
bruary  IJ,jI» 


THE    \V  O  R  K  S    OF    COTTON. 


1  wear  no  melancholy  hue, 
No  wreaths  of  cyprcfs  or  of  yew. 
The  fhroud,  the  coffin,  pull,  of  herfe, 
Shall  ne'er  deform  my  fofter  verfe  : 
Let  me  confign  the  fun'ral  plume, 
The  herald's  paint,  the  fculptur'd  tomb, 
And  all  the  folemn  farce  of  graves, 
To  undertakers  and  their  flaves. 

You  know,  that  moral  writers  fay 
The  world's  a  ftage,  and  life  a  play  ; 
That  in  this  drama  to  fucceed, 
Requires  much  thought,  and  toil  indeed  ! 
There  ftill  remains  one  labour  more, 
Perhaps  a  greater  than  before. 
Indulge  the  fearch,  and  you  fhall  find 
The  harder  tafk  is  flill  behind  ; 
That  harder  tafk,  to  quit  the  ftagc 
In  early  youth,  or  riper  age  ; 
To  leave  the  company  and  place, 
With  firmnefs,  dignity,  and  grace. 

Come,  then,  the  doling  fcenes  furvey, 
'Tis  the  lafl  acT:  which  crowns  the  play. 
Do  well  this  grand  decifive  part, 
And  gain  the  plaudit  of  your  heart. 
Few  greatly  live  in  Wifdom's  eye- 
But  oh  !  how  few  who  greatly  die  ! 
Who,  when  their  days  approach  an  end, 
Can  meet  the  foe,  as  friend  meets  friend. 

Inftrudlive  heroes !  tell  us  whence 
Your  noble  fcorn  of  flefh  and  fenfe  ! 
You  part  from  all  we  prize  fo  dear, 
Nor  drop  one  foft  reluctant  tear: 
Part  from  thofe  tender  joys  of  life, 
The  friend,  the  parent,  child,' and  wife. 
Death's  black  and  ftormy  gulf  you  brave, 
And  ride  exulting  on  the  wave; 
Deem  thrones  but  trifles  all ! — no  more— 
Nor  fend  one  wifhful  look  to  fhore. 

For  foreign  ports  and  lands  unknown, 
Thus  the  firm  failor  leaves  his  own ; 
Obedient  to  the  rifing  gale, 
Unmoors  his  bark,  and  fpreadshis  fail; 
Defies  the  ocean,  and  the  wind, 
.Nor  mourns  the  joys  he  leaves  behind. 

Is  Death  a  pow'rful  monarch  ?  True- 
Perhaps  you  dread  the  tyrant  too  ! 
Fear,  like  a  fog,  precludes  the  light, 
Or  fwells  the  objecT:  to  the  fight. 
Attend  my  vifionary  page, 
And  I'll  difarm  the  tyrant's  rage. 
Come,  let  this  ghaftly  form  appear, 
He's,  not  fo  terrible  when  near. 
Diftance  deludes  th'  unwary  eye, 
So  clouds  feem  monfters  in  the  fky: 
Hold  frequent  converfe  with  him  now, 
He'll  daily  wear  a  milder  brow. 
"Why  is  my  theme  with  terror  fraught  ? 
Becatife  you  fhun  the  frequent  thought. 
Say,  when  the  captive  pard  is  nigh, 
Whence  thy  pale  cheek  and  frighted  eye  ? 
Say,  why  difmay'd  thy  manly  breaft, 
When  the  grim  lion  fhakes  his  creft  ? 
Becaufe  thcfe  favage  fights  are  new- 
No  keeper  fhudders  at  the  view. 
Keepers,  accuftom'd  to  the  fcene, 
Approach  the  dens  with  look  ferene, 
Fearlcfs  their  grifly  charge  explore, 
'  And  fmile  to  hear  the  tyrants  roar. 


«<  Ay— but  to  die  !  to  bid  adieu  \ 

An  everlafting  farewel  too  ! 

Farewcl  to  ev'ry  joy  around  I 
'  Oh !  the  heart  fickens  at  the  found  !" 

Stay,  {tripling — thou  art  poorly  taught— 
by  didil  thou  iuy  ? — difcard  the  thought, 
'oys  are  a  rich  celeftial  fruit, 
And  fcorn  a  fublunary'root. 
What  wears  the  face  of  joy  below, 
s  often  found  but  fplendid  woe. 
foys  here,  like  unfubftantial  fame, 
Are  nothings  with  a  pompous  name; 
Or  elfe,  like  comets  in  the  fphere, 
Shine  with  deftrudtion  in  their  rear. 

Paffions,  like  clouds,  o'ofcure  the  fight, 
Hence  mortals  feldom  judge  aright. 
The  world's  a  harfh  unfruitful  foil, 
Yet  ftill  we  hope,  and  ftill  we  toil : 
Deceive  ourfelves  with  wond'rous  art, 
And  difappcintment  wrings  the  heart. 

Thus  when  a  rnift  collects  around, 
And  hovers  o'er  a  barren  ground, 
The  poor  deluded  trav'ller  fpies 
Imagin'd  trees  and  ftrudtures  rife; 
But  when  the  fhrouded  fun  is  clear, 
The  defert  and  the  rocks  appear. 

"  Ah — but  when  youthful  blood  runs  high* 
"  Sure  'tis  a  dreadful  thing  to  die  '. 
"  To  die  !  and  what  exalts  the  gloom, 
"  I'm  told  that  man  furvives  the  tomb  ! 

'  O  !  can  the  learned  prelate  find 

'  What  future  fcenes  await  the  mind  ? 

'  Where  \vings  the  foul,  diflodg'd  from  clay  ? 

'  Some  courteous  aflfgel  point  the  way  '. 

'  That  unknown  fomewhere  in  the  flcies ! 

'  Say,  where  that  unknown  fomewhere  lies; 
"  And  kindly  prove,  when  life  is  o'er, 
"  That  pains  and  forrows  are  no  more. 
"  For  dou'otlefs  dying  is  a  curfe, 
"  If  prefent  ills  be  chang'd  for  worfc." 
Hufh,  my  young  friend,  forego  the  theme, 

And  liftcn  to  your  poet's  dream. 
Ere-while  I  took  an  evening  walk, 

Honorio  join'd  in  focial  talk. 

Along  the  lawns  the  zephyrs  fweep, 

Each  ruder  wind  was  lull'd  afleep. 

The  fky,  all  beauteous  to  behold, 

Was  ftreak'd  with  azure,  green,  and  gold; 

But,  though  ferenely  foft  and  fair, 

Fever  hung  brooding  in  the  air ; 

Then  fettled  on  Honorio's  breaft, 

Which  fhudder'd  at  the  fatal  gueft. 

No  drugs  the  kindly  wifli  fulfil, 

Difeafe  eludes  the  do&or's  fkill. 

The  poifon  fpreads  through  all  the  frame. 

Ferments,  and  kindles  into  flame. 

From  fide  to  fide  Honorio  turns, 

And  now  with  thirft  infatiate  burns. 

His  eyes  refign  their  wonted  grace, 

Thofe  friendly  lamps  expire  apace  ! 

The  brain's  an  ufelefs  organ  grown, 

And  Reufon  tumbled  from  his  throne.— 
But  while  the  purple  furges  glow, 

The  currents  thicken  as  they  flow ; 

The  blood  in  ev'ry  diftant  part 

Stagnates  and  difappoints  the  heart ; 

Defrauded  of  its  crimfon  ftore, 

The  vital  engine  plays  no  more. 


VISIONS. 


Honorio  dead,  the  fnn'ral  bell 
Call'd  ev'ry  friend  to  bid  farewel. 
1  join'd  the  melancholy  bier, 
And  dropp'd  the  unavailing  tear. 

The  clock  ftruck  twelve — when  nature  fought 
Repofe  from  all  the  pangs  of  thought; 
And  while  my  limbs  were  funk  to  reft, 
A  vifion  footh'd  my  troubled  breaft. 

I  dream'd  the  fpeclre  Death  appear'd, 
I  dream'd  his  hollow  voice  I  heard ! 
Metbought  th'  imperial  tyrant  wore 
A  ftate  no  prince  affum'd  before. 
All  nature  fetch'd  a  gen'ral  groan, 
And  lay  expiring  round  his  throne. 

I  gaz'd — when  ftrait  arofe  to  fight 
The  mod  detefted  fiend  of  night. 
He  fhuffled  with  unequal  pace, 
And  confcious  fhame  deform'd  his  face. 
With  jealous  leer  he  fquinted  round, 
Or  fix'd  his  eyes  upon  the  ground. 
From  hell  this  frightful  monfler  came, 
Sin  was  his  fire,  and  Guilt  his  name. 

This  fury,  with  officious  care, 
Waited  around  the  fov'reign's  chair  ; 
In  robes  of  terrors  drefl  the  king, 
And  arm'd  him  with  a  baneful  fting ; 
Gave  fiercdnefs  to  the  tyrant's  eye, 
And  hung  the  fword  upon  his  thigh. 
Difeafes  next,  a  hideous  crowd  ! 
Proclaim'd  their  matter's  empire  loud; 
And,  all  obedient  to  his  will, 
Flew  in  commiflion'd  troops  to  kill. 

A  rifing  whirlwind  fhakes  the  poles, 
And  lightning  glares,  and  thunder  rolls. 
The  monarch  and  his  train  prepare 
To  range  the  foul  tempefluous  air. 
Strait  to  his  moulders  he  applies 
Two  pinions  of  enormous  lize ! 

JMethought  I  faw  the  ghafhly  form 

Stretch  his  black  wings,  and  mount  the  ftorm. 

When  Fancy's  airy  horfe  1  ftrode, 

And  join'd  the  army  on  the  road. 
As  the  grim  conqu'ror  urg'd  his  way, 

He  fcatter'd  terror  and  difmay. 

Thoufands  a  penfive  afpect  wore, 

Thoufands  who-fneei'd  at  Death  before. 

Life's  records  rife  on  ev'ry  fide, 

And  Confcience  fpreads  thofe  volumes  wide ; 

Which  faithful  regifters  were  brought 

By  pale-ey'd  Fear  and  bufy  Thought. 

Thofe  faults  which  artful  men  conceal, 

Stand  here  engrav'd  with  pen  of  Heel, 

By  Confcience,  that  impartial  fcribe! 

Whofc  honeft  palm  difdains  a  bribe. 

Their  actions  all  like  critics  view, 

And  all  like  faithful  critics  too. 

As  guilt  had  ftain'd  life's  various  ftage, 

What  tears  of  blood  bedew'd  the  page  ! 

All  fhudder'd  at  the  black  account. 

And  fcarce  believ'd  the  vail  amount ! 

All  vow'd  a  fudden  change  of  hvart, 

Would  Death  relent,  and  fhcath  his  dart. 

But,  when  the  awful  foe  withdrew, 

All  to  their  follies  fled  anew. 

So  when  a  wolf,  who  fcours  at  large, 

Springs  on  the  fhcpherd's  fleecy  charge, 

The  ilock  in  wild  diforder  fly, 

Apd  caft  behind  a  frequent  eye ; 


But,  when  the  victim's  borne  away, 
They  rufh  to  pafture  and  to  play. 

Indulge  my  dream,  and  let  my  pen 
Paint  thofe  unmeaning  creatures,  men. 
Carus,  with  pains  and  ficknefs  worn, 
Chidss  the  flow  night,  and  fighs  for  morn ; 
Soon  as  he  views  the  eafterr.  ray, 
He  inourns  the  quick  return  of  day; 
Hourly  laments  protracted  breath, 
And  courts  the  healing  hand  of  Death. 

Verres,  opprefs'd  with  guilt  and  (hame, 
Shipwreck'd  in  fortune,  health,  and  fame, 
Pines  for  his  dark  fepukhral  bed, 
To  mingle  with  th'  unheeded  dead. 

With  fourfcore  years  gray  Natho  bends, 
A  burden  to  himfelf  and  friends ; 
And  with  impatience  feems  to  wait 
The  friendly  hand  of  ling'ring  fate. 
So  hirelings  wifli  their  labour  done, 
And  often  eye  the  weilern  fun. 

The  monarch  hears  their  various  grief, 
Defcends,  and  brings  the  wifh'd  relief, 
On  Death  with  wild  furprife  they  ftar'd ; 
All  fecm'd  averfe  !  All  unprepar'd ! 

As  torrents  fweep  with  rapid  force, 
The  grave's  pale  chief  purfu'd  his  courfe. 

No  human  pow'r  can  or  wit-hftand, 

Or  ftiun  the  conquefts  of  his  hand. 

Oh !  could  the  prince  of  upright  mine], 

And,  as  a  guardian  angel,  kind, 

With  ev'ry  heart-felt  worth  befidc, 

Turn  the  keen  lhaft  of  Death  afide, 

When  would  the  brave  Auguftus  join 

The  afhes  of  his  facred  line  ? 

But  Death  maintains  no  partial  war, 

He  mocks  a  fultan  or  a  czar. 

He  lays  his  iron  hand  on  all 

Yes,  kings,  and  fons  of  kings  muft  fall ! 

A  truth  Britannia  lately  felt, 

And  trembled  to  her  centre  * !— — 

Could  ableft  flatefmen  ward  the  blow, 

Would  Granville  own  this  common  foe  ? 

For  greater  talents  ne'er  were  known 

To  grace  the  fav'rite  of  a  throne. 

Could  genius  fave — wit,  learning,  fire- 
Tell  me,  would  Chefterfield  expire  ? 

Say,  would  his  glorious  fun  decline, 

And  fet  like  your  pale  ftar  or  mine  ? 
Could  ev'ry  virtue  of  the  flcy— 

Would  Herringf,  Butler  J,  Secker§  die  ? 
Why  this  addrefs  to  peerage  all— 

Untitled  Allen's  virtues  call ! 

If  Allen's  worth  demands  a  place, 

Lords,  with  your  leave,  'ti$  no  difgrace. 

Though  high  your  tanks  in  heralds*  rolls, 

Know  Virtue  too  ennobles  fouls. 

By  her  that  private  man's  renown'd, 

Who  pours  a  thoufand  blcllings  round. 

While  Allen  takes  Afrlidion's  part, 

And  draws  out  all  his  gtn'rous  heart ; 

Anxious  to  feize  the  fleeting  day, 

Left  unimprov'd  it  (leal  away ; 

*  Referring  to  tbt  death  of  bis  late  Royal  Higlaiffi 
Frederic  Prin:.-  of  Wales. 
•J-  Archlii/co/*  cj  Ganlcrtury. 
\   Lati  Jj;jbof  of  Durham, 
§  JBiJkop  of  Oxford. 

4  B  iij 


WORKS   OF   CTOT0^7. 


While  thus  he  walks  with  jealous  ftrife 
Through  goodnefs,  as  he  walks  through  life, 
Shall  not  I  mark  his  radiant  path  ? — 
Rife,  mufe,  and  fing  the  Man  of  Bath ! 
Publifli  abroad,  could  goodnefs  fave, 
Allen  weuld  difappaint  the  grave; 
Tranflated  to  the  heav'niy  fhore, 
JLike  Enoch,  when  his  walk  wa?  o'er. 

Not  Beauty's  pow'rful  pleas  reflrain— 
Her  pleas  are  trifling,  weak,  and  vain; 
For  women  pierce  with  fhrieks  the  air, 
Smite  their  bare  breafts,  and  rend  their  hair. 
All  have  a.  doleful  tale  to  tell, 
How  friends,  fons,  daughters,  hufbands  fell ! 

Alas !  is  life  our  lav'rite  theme  i 
'Tis  all  a  vain,  or  painful  dream. 
A  dream  which  fools  or  cowards  prize, 
But  flighted  by  the  brave  or  wife. 
"Who  lives,  for  others'  ills  muft  groan, 
Or  bleed  for  forrows  of  his  own ; 
Muft  journey  on  with  weeping  eye, 
Then  pant,  fink,  agonize,  and  die. 

And  fhall  a  man  arraign  the  Ikies, 
Becaufe  man  lives,  and  mourns,  and  dies  F 
Impatient  reptile  !  Reafon  cry'd ; 
Arraign  thy  paflion  and  thy  pride. 
.Retire,  and  commune  with  thy  heart, 
Aflc,  whence  thou  cam'ft,  and  what  them  art. 
Explore  thy  body  and  thy  mind, 
Thy  ftation  too,  why  here  aflign'd. 
The  fearch  fhall  teach  thee  life  to  prize, 
And  make  thee  grateful,  good,  and  wife. 
"Why  do  you  roam  to  foreign  climes, 
To  fludy  nations,  modes,  and  times ; 
A  fcience  often  dearly  bought, 
And  often  what  avails  you  nought  ? 
Co,  mnn,  and  act  a  wifer  part, 
Study  the  fcience  of  your  heart. 
This  home  philofophy,  you  know, 
Was  priz'd  fonie  thouiand  years  ago*. 
Then  why  abroad  a  frequent  gueft  i 
Why  fuch  a  ftranger  to  your  breaft  ? 
Why  turn  fo  many  volumes  o'er,. 
Till  Dodfley  can  fupply  no  more  ? 
Not  all  the  volumes  on  thy  fhelf, 
Are  worth  that  fingle  volume,  Self. 
For  who  this  facred  book  declines, 
Howe'er  in  other  arts  he  {nines; 
Though  fmit  with  Pindar's  noble  rage, 
Or  yers'd  in  Tally's  manly  page; 
Though  deeply  read  in  Plato's  fchool ; 
With  all  his  knowledge  is  a  fool. 

Proclaim  the  truth — fey,  what  is  man  ? 
5  lis  body  from  the  duft  began ; 
And  when  a  few  fhort  years  are  o'er, 
The  crumbling  fabric  is  no  more. 

But  whence  the  foul  ?  From  heav'n  it  CERI:  ! 
Oh !  prize  this  intellectual  flame. 
This  nobler  Self  with  rapture  fcan,  • 

'Tis  mind  alone  which  makes  the  man. 
Truft  me,  there'*  not  a  joy  on  earth, 
But  from  the  foul  derives  its  birth. 
Aflc  the  young  rake  (he'll  anfwer  right) 
Who  treats  by  day,  and  drinks  by  night, 
What  makes  his  entertainments  fhina, 
What  gives  the  reliflj  to  his  wine ; 

*   KNOW   THTSfLF a  ce'.clraitd  fay.ng 

tj  Ccj/o,  one  of  tLfeven  wife  men  of  Greece. 


He'll  tell  thee  (if  he  fcorns  the  beaft), 
That  facial  pleafuies  form  the  feaft.     "•• 
The  charms  of  beauty  too  fliall  cloy, 
Unlefs  the  foul  exalts  the  joy. 
The  mind  muft  animate  the  face, 
Or  cold  and  taftelefs  ev'ry  grace. 

What !  mutt  the  foul  her  pow'rs 
To  raife  and  fwell  the  joys  of  fenfe  ? — 
Know  too,  the  joys  of  fenfe  controul, 
Arid  clog  the  motions  of  the  foul ; 
Forbid  her  pinions  to  afpire, 
Damp  and  impair  her  native  fire  : 
And  fure  asSenfe  (that  tyrant)  !   reigns, 
She  holds  the  emprefs,  Soul,  in  chains, 
Inglorious  bondage  to  ths  mind, 
Heaven-born,  fublime,  and  uncorifin'd  I 
She's  independent,  fair,  and  great, 
And  juftly  claims  a  large  ettate  ; 
She  alks  no  borrow'd  aids  to  thine, 
She  boafts  within  a  golden  mine ; 
But,  like  the  treafures  of  Peru, 
Her  wealth  lies  deep  and  far  from  view. 
Say,  fliall  the  man  who  knows  her  worth, 
Debafe  her  dignity  and  birth  ; 
Or  e'er  repine  at  Heaven's  decree, 
Who  kindly  gave  her  leave  to  be  ; 
Cali'd  her  from  nothing  into  day, 
And  built  her  tenement  of  clay  ? 
Hear  and  accept  me  fer  your  guide, 
(Reafon  fliail  ne'er  defert  your  fide). 
Who  liftens  to  my  wifer  voice, 
Can't  but  applaud  his  Maker's  choice  ; 
Pleas'd  with  that  Firil  and  Sovereign  Caufe, 
Pleas'd  with  unerring'  Wifdom's  laws ; 
Secure,  fmce  Sovereign  Goodnefs  reigns, 
Secure,  fince  Sovereign  Povv'er  obtains. 
i     With  curious  eyes  review  thy  frame, 
This  fcience  Ihall  direct  thy  claim. 
Doft  thou  indulge  a  double  view, 
•A  long,  long  life*  and  happy  too  ? 
Perhaps  a  farther  boon  you  crave — 
To  lie  down  eafy  in  the  grave  ! 
Kno\v  then  my  dictates  muft  prevail, 
.Or  furely  each  fond  wifli  ihall  tail. — 

Come  then,  is  happinefs  thy  aim  ? 
Let  mental  joys  be  all  thy  game. 

Repeat  th*  fearch,  and  mend  your  pace. 
The  capture  fliall  reward  the  chace. 
Let  ev'ry  minute,  as  it  fprings, 
Convey  frefh  knowledge  on  its  wings ; 
Let  ev'ry  minute,  as  it  flies, 
Recor4  thee  good  as  well  as  wife. 
While  fuch  purfuits  your  thoughts  engage, 
Jn  a  few  years  you'll  live  an  age. 
Who  meafures  life  by  rolling  years  ? 
Fools  meafure  by  revolving  fpheres. 
Go  thou,  and  fetch  th'  unerring  rule 
From  Virtue's,  and  from  Wifdom's  fchool. 
Who  well  improves  life's  fliortelt  day, 
Will  fcarce  regret  its  fctting  ra,y  ; 
Contented  with  his  (hare  of  light, 
Nor  fear  nor  wilh  th'  approach  of  night. 
And  when  difeafe  aflaults  the  heart, 
When  Sicknefs  triumphs  over  art, 
Reflections  on  a  life  well  paft, 
Shall  prove  a  cordial  to  the  laft  ; 
This  med'cine  fliall  the  foul  fuftain, 
And  {often  fir  fupend  her  pain  j 


VISIONS. 


Shall  break  Death's  fell  tyrranic  pow'r, 
And  calm  the  troubled  Ay  in?  hour, 

Bleft  rules  of  cool  prudential  age  I 
I  lilteu'd,  and  rever'd  the  fage. 
When  lo  !  a  form  divinely  bright 
Defcends  ami  burfts  upon  my  fight, 
A  feraph  of  illuftriotis  birth  '. 
(Religion  was  her  name  on  earth) 
Supremely  fweet  her  radiant  face, 
And  blooming  with  celeftial  grace  ! 
Three  fliining  cherubs  form'd  her  train, 
Wav'd  their  light  wings,  and  reach'd  the  plain  ; 
Faith,  with  fublime  and  piercing  eye, 
And  pinions  fluttering  for  the  iky; 
Here  Hope,  that  imiling  angel  (lands, 
And  golden  anchors  grace  her  hands : 
There  Chanty,  in  robes  of  white, 
Faired  and  fav'rite  maid  of  light ! 

The  feraph  fpake— 'tis  Reafon's  part, 
To  govern  and  to  guard  the  heart ; 
To  lull  the  xvayward  foul  to  reft, 
When  hopes  and  fears  diltracl  the  bread. 
Reafon  may  calm  this  doubtful  itrife, 
And  fteer  thy  bark  through  various  life  : 
But  when  the  ftorms  of  death  are  nigh, 
And  midnight  darknefs  veils  the  (ky, 
Shall  Reafon  then  diredtthy  fail, 
Difperfe  the  clouds,  or  fink  the  gale  ? 
Stranger,  this  {kill  alone  is  mine, 
Skill  1  that  tranfcends  his  fcanty  line. 

That  hoary  fage  has  cpunfell'd  right- 
Be  wife,  nor  fcorn  his  friendly  light. 
Revere  thyfelf — thou'rt  near  ally'd 
To  angels  on  thy  better  fide. 
How  various  e'er  their  ranks  or  kinds, 
Angels  are  but  unbodied  minds ; 
When  the  partition  walls  decay. 
Men  emerge  angels  from  their  clay. 

Yes,  when  the  frailer  body  dies, 
The  foul  afierts  her  kindred  flues. 
But  minds,  though  fprung  from  heav'nly  raee, 
Mud  firil  be  tutor'd  for  the  place. 
(The  joys  above  are  underftood> 
And  relifli'd  only  by  the  good), 
Who  fliall  afTume  this  guardian  care  ? 
Who  fliall  fecure  their  birthright  there  ? 
Souls  are  my  charge — to  me  'tis  giv'ti 
To  train  them  for  their  native  heav'n. 


Know  then— Who  bow  the  early  knee, 
And  give  the  '-willing  heart  to  tne  ; 
Who  wifely,  when  temptation  waits, 
Elude  her  frauds,  and  fpnrn  her  '>aits  ; 
Who  dare  to  own  my  injur'd  caufe, 
(Though  fools  deride  ruv  facred  laws)  j 
Or  fcorn  to  deviate  to  the  wrong, 
Though  peri?Tution  lifts  her  thong; 
Though  all  the  fons  of  hell  con  (pi  re 
To  raile  ihe  (take,  ajv.l  light  the  fire  ; 
Know,  that  for  fuch  fuperior  fouls, 
There  lies  a  blifs  beyond  the  poles ; 
Where  fpiritsfliine  with  purer  ray, 
And  brighten  to  meridian  day; 
Where  love,  where  boundlefs  friendfliip  rules, 
(No  friends  that  change,  no  love  that  cooin)  i 
Where  nfing  floods  of  knowledge  roll, 
And  pour  and  pour  upon  the  foul ! 

But  where's  the  paffage  to  the  fkies  ?— 
The  road  through  Death's  blade  valley  lies. 
Nay,  do  not  fliudder  at  my  tale — 
Though  dark  the  shades,  yet  lafe  the  vale. 
("his  path  the  bell  of  men  have  trod  $ 
\nd  who'd  decline  the  road  to  God  ? 
Oh  :  'tis  a  glorious  boon  to  die  I 
This  favour  can't  be  priz'd  too  high, 

While  thus  flie  fpake,  my  looks  exprefs'd 
The  raptures  kindling  in  my  breafl  : 
My  foul  a  fix'd  attention  gave  ; 
When  the  ftern  monarch  of  the  grave 
With  haughty  flrides  approach'd — Amaz'tl 
I  flood,  and  trembled  as  I  gaz'd. 
The  feraph  calm'd  each  anxious  fear, 
And  kindly  wip'd  the  falling  tear ; 
Then  hailed  with  expanded  wing 
To  meet  the  pale  ternnc  king. 
But  now  what  milder  fcenes  arife  ? 
The  tyrant  drops  his  hoftile  guife. 
He  feems  a  youth  divinely  fair, 
In  graceful  ringlets  waves  his  hair. 
His  wings  their  whitening  plumes  difplay, 
His  burm'fli'd  plumes  reflect  the  day. 
Light  flaws  his  fhining  azure  veft, 
And  all  the  angel  Hands  confeft. 

I  view'd  the  change  with  fweet  furprife, 
And  oh  !  I  panted  for  the  ikies; 
Thank'd  Heav'n  that  e'er  I  drew  my  breath, 
And  triumph'd  in  the  thoughts  of  death. 


FABLES. 


?be  Advantages  of  Application  and  Diligence  in 
our  earlier  Tears,  and  the  dejlruSliiie  Corife- 
quences  of  Pride  and  Cruelty, 

FABLE  I. 

T«E  BEE,  THE  ANT,  AND  THE  SPARROW. 

MY  dears,  'tis  faid  in  days  of  old, 

That  beafts  could  talk,  and  birds  could  fcold, 


But  now  it  feems  the  human  race 
Alone  engrofs  the  fpeaker's  place. 
Yet  lately,  if  report  be  true, 
(And  much  the  tale  relates  to  you) 
There  met  a  fparrow,  ant,  and  bee, 
Which  reafon'd  and  convers'd  as  we. 
Who  reads  my  page  will  doubtlelV  grant* 
That  Phe's  the  wife  induilrious  ant. 
And  all  with  half  an  eye  may  fee, 
That  K.itty  is  the  bufy  bee. 

48  Uu 


THE  WORKS    OF   COTTON. 


Here  then  are  two — But  where's  the  third  ? 
Go  fearch  your  fchool,  you'll  find  the  bird. 
Your  fchool !  I  afk  your  pardon,  fair, 
I'm  fure  you'll  find  no  fparrow  there. 

Now  to  ray  tale. — One  Summer's  morn 
A  bee  rang'd  o'er  the  verdant  lawn  ; 
Studious  to  hufband  every  hour, 
And  make  the  moft  of  ev'ry  flow'r. 
Nimble  from  ftalk  to  (talk  flie  flies, 
And  loads  with  yellow  wax  her  thighs ; 
With  which  the  artifts  builds  her  comb, 
And  keeps  all  tight  and  wartn  at  home ; 
Or  from  the  cowflip's  golden  belis 
Sucks  honey  to  enrich  her  cells  ; 
Or  every  tempting  rofe  purfues, 
Or  fips  the  lily's  fragrant  dews, 
Yet  never  robs  the  fliining  bloom, 
Or  of  its  beauty  or  perfume. 
Thus  flie  difcharg'd  in  every  way, 
The  various  duties  of  the  day. 

It  chanc'd  a  frugal  ant  was  near, 
Whofe  brow  was  furrow'd  o'er  by  care  J 
A  great  economift  was  (he, 
Nor  lefs  induftrious  than  the  b^e  : 
By  penfive  parents  often  taught 
What  ills  avile  from  want  of  thought ; 
That  poverty  on  floth  depends, 
On  poverty  the  lofs  of  friends. 
Hence  every  day  the  ant  is  found 
With  anxious  ftep  to  tread  the  ground  : 
With  curious  fearch  to  trace  the  grain, 
And  drag  the  heavy  load  with  pain. 

The  active  bee  with  pleafure  faw 
The  ant  fulfil  her  parents  law. 
Ah  !  fifter-labourer,  fays  me, 
How  very  fortunate  are  we  ! 
Who  taught  in  infancy  to  know, 
The  cqraforts  which  from  labour  flow, 
Are  independent  of  the  great, 
Nor  know  the  wants  of  pride  and  ftate. 
Why  is  our  food  fo  very  fweet  ? 
Becaufe  -we  earn  before  we  eat. 
Why  are  our  wants  fo  very  few  ? 
Becaule  we  nature's  calls  purfue,. 
Whence  our  complacency  of  mind  ? 
Becaufe  we  act  our  parts  aflign'd. 
Have  we  inceffant  talks  to  do  ? 
Is  not  all  nature  bufy  too  ? 
Doth  not  the  fun  with  conftant  pace 
Perfift  to  run  his  annual  race  ? 
Do  not  the  Itars  which  fliine  fo  bright, 
Renew  their  courfes  every  night? 
Doth  not  the  ox  obedient  bow 
His  patient  neck,  and  draw  the  plough  ? 
Or  when  did  e'er  the  generous  fteed, 
"Withhold  his  labour  or  his  fpeed  ? 
If  you  all  nature's  fyftem  fcan, 
The  only  idle  thing  is  man. 

A  wanton  fparrow  long'd  to  hear 
This  fage  difcourfe,  and  ftrait  drew  near. 
The  bird  was  talkative  and  loud, 
And  very  pert,  and  very  proud ; 
As  worthlefs  and  as  vain  a  thing 
Perhaps  as  ever  wore  a  wing. 
She  found,  as  on  a  fpray  me  fat, 
The  little  friends  were  deep  in  chat ; 
That  virtue  was  their  favourite  theme, 
And  toij  and  probity  their  fchetac  :' 


Such  talk  was  hateful  to  her  bread, 
She  thought  them  arrant  prudes  at  beft. 
When  to  difplay  her  naughty  mind, 
Hunger  with  cruelty  combined; 
She  view'd  the  ant  with  favage  eyes, 
And  hopt  and  hopt  to  fnatch  her  prize. 
The  bee,  who  wutch'd  her  opening  bill, 
And  guefs'd  her  fell  defignto  kill ; 
Aik'd  her  from  what  her  anger  rofe, 
And  uhy  ilie  treated  ants  as  foes? 

The  fparrow  her  reply  began, 
And  thus  the  converfation  ran : 

Whene'er  I  atn  difpos'd  to  dine, 
I  think  the  whole  creation  mine  j 
That  I'm  a  bird  of  high  degree, 
And  every  infect  made  for  me. 
Hence  oft  I  fearch  the  emmet  brood, 
For  emmets  are  delicious  food. 
And  oft  in  wantonnels  and  play, 
I  flay  ten  thoufantl  in  a  day  : 
For  truth  it  is,  \vith out  difguife, 
That  I  lo've  rnifchief  as  my  eyes. 

Oh  .'  fie,  the  honeft  bee  reply'd, 
I  fear  you  make  bafe  man  your  guide. 
Of  every  creature  fure  the  worit, 
Though  in  creation's  fcale  the  firft  '. 
Ungrateful  man  !  'tis  ftrange  he  thrives 
Who  burns  the  bees  to  rob  their  hives'. 
I  hate  his  vile  adminiftration, 
And  fo  do  all  the  emmet  nation. 
What  fatal  foes  to  birds  are  men, 
Quite  from  the  eagle  to  the  wren  '. 
Oh  !  do  not  mens  example  take, 
Who  mifchief  do  for  mifchief's  fake  ; 
But  fpare  the  ant — her  worth  demands 
Efteem  and  friendHiip  at  your  hands. 
A  mind  with  every  virtue  bleft, 
iVluft  raife  companion  in  your  breaft. 

Virtue!  rejoin'd  the  fneering  bird, 
Where  did  you  learn  that  Gothic  word  ? 
Since  I  was  hatch'd  I  never  heard 
That  virtue  was  at  all  rever'd, 
But  fay  it  was  the  ancients'  claim^ 
Yet  moderns  difavow  the  name. 
UnleG,,  my  dear,  you  read  romances, 
I  cannot  reconcile  your  fancies. 
Virtue  in  fairy  tales  is  feen 
To  play  the  goddefs  or  the  queen ; 
But  what's  a  queen  without  the  pow'r, 
Or  beauty,  child,  without  a  dow'r? 
Yet  this  is  all  that  virtue  brags ;, 
At  beft  'tis  only  worth  in  rags. 
Such  whims  my  very  heart  derides, 
Indeed  you  make  me  burft  my  fides. 
Truft  me,  Mils  Bee — to  i'peak  the  truth, 
I've  copied  man  from  earlieft  youth  ; 
The  fame  our  tafte,  the  fame  our  i'chool, 
Paflion  and  appetite  our  rule  : 
And  call  me  bird,  or  call  me  finner, 
I'll  ne'er  forego  my  fport  or  dinner. 

A  prowling  cat  the  mifcreant  fpies, 
And  wide  expands  her  amber  eyes. 
Near  and  more  near  Grimalkin  draws, 
She  wags  her  tail,  protends  her  paws  ; 
Then  fpringing  on  her  thoughtlefs  prey, 
She  bore  the  vicious  bird  away. 
Thus  in  her  cruelty  and  pride, 
The  wicked,  wanton  fparrow  dy'i 


FABLES. 


1129 


true  Virtue  fonjt/ls  in  A£liant  and  aot  in 
Speculation. 

FABLE  II. 

THE    SCHOLAR    ANB  THE  CAT. 


LABOUR  entitles  man  to  eat, 
The  idle  have  no  claim  to  meat. 
This  rule  mult  every  ftation  fit, 
Becaufe  'tis  drawn  from  facred  writ. 
And  yet  to  feed  on  fuch  condition, 
Almoll  amounts  to  prohibition. 
Rome's  priefthood  would  be  dcom'd,  I  fear, 
To  eat  foup  maigre  all  the  year. 
And  would  not  Oxford's  cloifter'd  fon 
By  this  hard  ftatute  be  undone  ? 
In  truth,  your  poet,  were  he  fed 
Nooft'ner  than  he  earns  his  bread, 
The  vengeance  of  this  law  would  feel» 
And  often  go  without  a  meal. 

It  feem'd  a  fcholar  and  his  cat  , 

Together  join'd  in  focialchat. 
When  thus  the  lettei-'d  fage  began  — 
Of  what  vaft  confequence  is  man  ! 
Lords  of  this  nether  globe  we  fhine, 
Our  tenure's  held  by  right  divine. 
Here  independence  waves  its  plea, 
All  creatures  bow  the  vaffal  knee. 
Nor  earth  alone  can  bound  our  reign, 
Ours  is  the  empire  of  the  main. 

True  —  man's  a  fovereign  prince  —  but  fay, 
What  art  fuftains  the  monarch's  fway. 
Say  from  what  fource  we  fetch  fuppiies, 
'Tis  here  the  grand  inquiry  lies. 
Strength  is  not  man's  —  for  ftrength  muft  fuit 
Beft  with  the  ftructure  of  a  brute. 
Nor  craft  nor  cunning  can  fuffice, 
A  fox  might  then  difpute  the  prize. 
To  godlike  reafon  'tis  we  owe 
Our  ball  and  fceptre  here  below. 

Now  'your  aflbciate  next  explains 
To  whom  precedence  appertains. 
And  fure  'tis  eafy  to  divine 
The  leaders  of  this  royal  line. 
Note  that  all  tradefmen  I  atteft 
But  petty  princes  at  the  beft. 
Superior  excellence  you'll  find 
In  thofe  who  cultivate  the  mind. 
Hence  heads  of  colleges,  you'll  own, 
Tranfcends  th'  afleflbrs  of  a  throne. 
Say,  Evaus,  have  you  any  doubt  ? 
You  can't  offend  by  fpeaking  out. 

With  vifage  placid  and  fedatc, 
Pufs  thus  addreis'd  her  learned  mate  : 

We're  told  that  none  in  nature's  plan 
Difputes,  preeminence  with  man. 
But  this  is  ftill  a  dubious  cafe 
Tome,  and  ail  our  purring  race. 
We  grant  indeed  to  partial  eyes 
Men  may  appear  fupremely  wife. 
But  our  fagacious  rabbies  hold, 
That  all  which  glitters  is  not  gold. 
Pray,  if  your  haughty  claims  be  true, 
Why  are  our  manners  ap'd  by  you  ? 
Whene'er  you  think,  all  cats  agree, 
You  iliut  your  optics  juft  as  \vc, 


Pray,  why  like  cats  fo  rapt  in  thought, 
If  you  by  cats  were  never  taught  ? 
But  know  our  tabby  fchools  maintain 
Worth  is  not  center'd  in  the  brain. 
Nor  that  our  i'agcs  thought  defpife— 
No — but  in  action  virtue  lies. 
We  find  it  by  experience  fact, 
That  thought  muft  ripen  into  act; 
Or  cat  no  real  fame  acquires, 
But  virtue  in  the  bud  expires. 
This  paint  your  orchard  can  decide— • 
Obferve  its  gay  autumnal  pride. 
For  trees  are  held  in  high  repute, 
Not  for  their  bloffoms,  but  their  fruit. 
If  fo,  then  Millar's  page  decrees 
Mere  fcholars  to  be  barren  trees. 
But  if  thefe  various  reafon s fail, 
Let  my  example  once  prevail. 

When  to  your  chamber  you  repair, 
Your  property  employs  my  care. 
And  while  you  fink  in  fweet  repofe, 
My  faithful  eyelids  never  clofe. 
When  hunger  prompts  the  moufe  to  fteal, 
Then  I  difplay  my  honett  zeal ; 
True  to  my  charge,  thefe  talons  feize 
The  wretch,  who  dares  purloin  your  checfe. 
Or  fliould  the  thief  affault  your  bread, 
I  ftrike  the  audacious  felon  dead. 

Nor  fay  I  fpring  at  fmaller  game — 
My  prowefs  llaughter'd  rats  proclaim. 
I'm  told  your  generals  often  fly, 
When  danger,  and  when  death  is  nigh. 
Nay,  when  nor  death  nor  danger's  near, 
As  your  court-martials  make  appear. 
When  in  your  fervice  we  engage, 
We  brave  the  pilfering  villain's  rage  ; 
Ne'er  take  advantage  of  the  night, 
To  meditate  inglorious  flight; 
But  ftand  refolv'd,  when  foes  defy. 
To  conquer,  or  to  bravely  die. 

Hence,  bookworm,  learn  our  duty  here 
Is  active  life  in  every  fphere. 
Know  too,  there's  fcarce  a  brute  but  can 
Inllruct  vain  fupercilious  man. 

That  our  Fortitude  and  Perfeverance  Jhould  be 
proportionate  to  the  Degree  and  Duration  of  our 
Sufferings. 

FABLE  III. 

NEPTUNE  AND  THE  MARINERS. 

WHEN  fore  calamities  we  feel, 

And  forrow  treads  on  forrow's  heel, 

Our  courage  and  our  ftrength,  we  fay, 

Are  infufScient  for  the  day. 

Thus  man's  a  poor  dejected  elf, 

Who  fain  would  run  away  from  felf. 

Yet  turn  to  Germany,  you'll  find 

An  Atlas  of  a  human  mind  ! 

But  here  I  deviate  from  my  plan, 

For  Pruflia's  king  is  more  than  man  I 

Inferior  beings  fuit  my  rhyme, 

My  fcheme,  my  genius,  and  my  time  ; 

Men,  birds,  and  beads,  with  now  and  then 

A  pagan  god  to  grace  cay  pen. 


THE   WORKS   OF  COTTON. 


A  veflel  bound  for  India's  coaft, 
The  merchants  confidence  and  boaft, 
Puts  forth  to  lea — the  gentle  deep 
Befpeaks  its  boifterous  god  afleep. 
Three  cheerful  fhouts  the  failors  gave, 
And  zephyrs  curl  the  fhining  wave. 
A  halcyon  iky  prevails  a  while. 
The  tritons  and  the  nereids  fmile. 
Thele  omens  faireft  hopes  imprefs, 
And  half  eni'ure  the  George  fuccefs. 

What  cafual  ills  thele  hopes  deitroy  '. 
To  change  how  fubject  every  joy  '. 
When  dangers  moft  remote  appear, 
^Experience  proves  thofe  dangers  near. 
Thus,  boaft  of  health  whene'er  you  pleafe, 
Health  is  next  neighbour  to  difeafe. 
'Tis  prudence  to  fufpect  a  foe, 
And  fortitude  to  meet  the  blow. 
In  wifdom's  rank  he  ftands  the  firft, 
Who  ftands  prepar'd  to  meet  the  worft. 

For  lo!  unnumber'd  clouds  arife, 
The  fable  legions  fpread  the  fkies. 
The  ftorm  around  the  veflel  raves, 
The  deep  ditplays  a  thoufand  graves. 
With  active  hands  and  fearlefs  hearts 
The  failors  play  their  various  parts  ; 
They  ply  the  pumps,  they  furl  the  fails, 
Yet  nought  their  diligence  avails. 
The  tempe/t  thickens  every  hour, 
And  mocks  the  feats  of  human  pow'r. 

The  failors  now  their  fate  deplore, 
Eftrang'd  to  every  fear  before. 
With  wild  furprife  their  eye-balls  glare, 
Their  honeft  breafts  admit  defpair. 
All  further  cftbrts  they  decline, 
At  once  all  future  hopes  refigo ; 
And  thus  abandoning  their  fkill. 
They  give  the  fliip  to  drive  at  will. 

Strait  entc-r'd  with  majeftic  grace, 
A  form  of  more  than  human  race, 
The  god  an  azure  mantle  wore, 
His  hand  a  forked  fceptre  tore ; 
When  thus  the  monarch  of  the  main — 

How  dare  yon  deem  yonr  labours  vaia  ? 
Shall  man  esert  himfelf  the  lefs, 
Becaufe  fuperior  dangers  prefs  ? 
How  can  I  think  your  hearts  fincere, 
Unlefs  you  bravely  perfevere  ? 
Know,  mortals,  that  when  perils  rife, 
Perils  enhanre  the  glorious  prize. 
But.  who  deferts  hirafelf,  fliall  be 
Beferted  by  the  gods  and  me. 
Hence  to  your  charge,  and  do  your  beft, 
Aly  trident  fliall  do  all  the  reft. 

The  mariners  their  talk  renew, 
All  to  their  deftin'd  province  flew. 
The  winds  are  hufh'd— the  fea  fubfides, 
The  gallant  George  in  fafety  rides. 

?be  Folly  ofpafling  a  hafly  and  derogatory  Judg 
ment  upon  the  noxious  Animals  of  the  Creation. 

FABLE  IV. 

THE    BEAU  AND    THE  VIPER. 

Ati.  wife  philofophers  maintain 
Nature  created  nought  in  vain. 


Yet  fome  with  fupercilious  brow. 
Deny  the  truth  aflerted  now. 
What  if  I  fhow  that  only  man, 
Appears  defective  in  the  plan  ! 
Say,  will  the  fceptic  lay  afide 
His  fneers,  his  arrogance,  and  pride  ? 

A  beau  imported  frefh  from  France, 
Whofe  ftudy  was  to  drefs  and  dance ; 
Who  had  betimes,  in  Gailia's  fchool, 
Grafted  the  coxcomb  on  the  fool ; 
Approach'd  a  wood  one  Summer's  day, 
To  1'crcen  him  from  the  fcorchirg  ray. 
And  as  he  travers'd  through  the  grove, 
Scheming  of  gallantry  and  love, 
A  viper's  fpiry  folds  were  feen, 
Sparkling  with  azure,  gold  and  green  ; 
The  beau  indignant,  weak,  and  prond, 
With  tranfport  thus  exclaim'd  aloud— 

Avaunt,  detefted  fiend  of  night ! 
Thou  torture  to  the  human  fight  \ 
To  every  reptile  a  difgrace, 
And  fatal  to  our  godlike  race. 
Why  were  luch  creatures  form'd  as  yoiy 
Unlefs  to  prove  my  doctrine  true  ; 
That  when  we  view  this  nether  fpher^ 
Nor  wifdom  nor  defign  appear  ? 

The  ferpent  rais'd  his  angry  creft, 
An  honeft  zeal  inflam'd  his  breaft. 
His  hiffings  ftruck  the  fopling's  ear, 
And  fliook  his  very  foul  with  fear. 
Inglorious  wretch  !  the  viper  cries, 
How  dare  you  broach  infernal  lies  ? 
Is  there,  in  all  creation's  chain, 
A  link  fo  werthlefs  and  fo  vain  ? 
Grant  that  your  drefs  were  truly  thine, 
How  can  your  gold  compare  with  mine  ? 
Your  veftments  are  of  garter  hue, 
Mine  boail  a  far  fuperior  blue. 

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

You  call  me  fatal  to  your  race- 
Was  ever  charge  fo  falfe  and  bafe  ? 
You  can't  in  all  your  annals  find, 
That  unprovok'd  we  hurt  mankind. 
Uninjur'cl  men  in  mifchief  deal, 
We  only  bite  the  hoftile  heel. 

Do  we  not  yield  our  lives  to  feed, 
And  fave  your  vile  diftemper'd  breed  ? 
When  leprofy  pollutes  your  veins, 
Do  not  we  purge  the  lothfome  ftains  ? 
When  riot  and  excefs  prevail, 
And  health,  and  ftrer.gth,  and  fpirits  fail ; 
Doctors  from  us  their  aid  derive, 
Hence  penitential  rakes  revive. 
*Ve  bleed  to  make  the  caitiffs  dine  *, 
Or  drown  to  medicate  their  wine. 

You  aik,  my  poifon  to  what  end  I 
Minute  philofopher,  attend. 
Nature,  munificent  and  wife, 
To  all  our  wants  adapts  fupplies. 
Our  frames  are  fitted  to  our  need, 
Hence  greyhounds  are  endu'd  with  fpeed. 


*  Upon  fame  occafton  -vipers  are  drcfTcd,  ant 
Jerved.  to  table  as  eeli. 


FABLES. 


Lions  by  force  their  prey  fubdue, 

By  force  maintain  their  em[)ire  too  : 

But  power,  although  the  lion's  fame, 

Was  never  known  the  viper's  claim. 

Obferve,  when  I  unroll  my  length — 

Say,  is -my  Itruclure  fonn'd  for  ftrength  ? 

Doth  not  celerity  imply 

Or  legs  to  run,  or  wings  to  fly  ? 

My  jaws  are  conftituted  weak, 

Hence  poifon  lurks  behind  my  cheek. 

As  lightning  quick  my  tangs  convey 

1  his  liquid  to  my  wounded  prey. 

The  venom  thus  enfures  my  bite, 

For  wounds,preclude  the  victim's  flight. 

But  why  this  deadly  juice,  you  cry, 

To  make  the  wretched  captive  die  ? 

Why  not  po fiefs 'd  of  ftronger  jaws, 

Or  arni'd  like  lavage  brutes  with  claiys  ? 

Can  fuch  weak  arguments  perfuade  ? 
Afk  rather,  why  were  vipers  made  ? 
To  me  my  poifon's  more  than  wealth, 
And  to  ungrateful  mortals  health. 
In  this  benevolent  defign 
My  various  organs  all  combine. 
Strike  out  the  poifon  from  my  frame, 
My  lyftem  were  no  more  the  fame. 
I  then  mould  want  my  comrerts  due, 
Nay,  lofe  my  very  being  too. 
And  you'd,  as  doctors  all  agree, 
A  fovereign  medicine  lofe  in  me. 

Now  learn,  'tis  arrogance  in  man, 
To  cenfure  what  he  cannot  fcan. 
Nor  dare  to  charge  God's  works  with  ill, 
Since  vipers  kind  defigns  fulfil: 
But  give  injurious  fcruples  o'er, 
Be  ftiii,  be  humble,  and  adore. 


rnppinefs  is  much  more  equally  diftributcd, 
t,':a»  the  generality  of  Mankind  are  apprifed  cf+ 

FABLE  V. 

THE  SNAIL  AND  THE  GARDENER. 

WHEN  fens  of  fortune  ride  on  high. 
How  do  we  point  the  admiring  eye  ! 
With  fooiiili  face  of  wonder  ga2e, 
And  often  co.vet  vvhat'\'.'e  praue. 
How  do  we  partial  nature  chide, 
As  deaf  to  every  fon  befide  ! 
Or  cenfure  the  miitaken  dame, 
As  if  her  optics  were  to  blame  ! 
Thus  we  deem  nature  moft  unkind, 
Or  what's  as  bad,  we  deem  her  blind". 

Bnt  when  inferior  ranks  we  fee, 
Who  move  in  humbler  fpheres  than  we ; 
Men  by  companions  are  taught, 
Nature  is  not  to  much  in  fault. 
Yet  mark  my  tale — the  poet's  pen 
Shall  vindicate  her  ways  to  men. 

Wkhin  a  garden,  far  from  town, 
There  dwelt  a  fnail  of  high  renown; 
Who  by  tradition,  as  appears, 
Had  been  a  tenant  feveral  years. 
She  fpent  her  youth  in  wifdom's  page— • 
Hence  honour'd  and  rever'd  in  age. 
Do  fnails  at  any  time  contend, 
Lifult  a  neighbour  or  a  friend ; 


Difpute  their  property,  and  fliare, 
Or  in  a  cherry  or  a  pear  ? 
No  lord  chief  juftice,  all  agree> 
So  able,  and  io  juft  as  flie  ! 
Whichever  way  their  caufes  went, 
All  parties  came  away  content. 
At  length  fiie  found  herfelf  decay, 
Death  lent  mementos  every  day. 
Her  drooping  ftrength  fuftains  no  more 
The  (hell,  which  on  her  back  (he  bore. 
The  eye  had  loft  its  vifual  art, 
The  heavy  ear  refus'd  its  part ; 
The  teeth  perform'd  their  office  ill, 
And  every  member  fail'd  her  will. 
But  no  defects  in  mind  appear, 
Her  intellects  are  ftrong  and  clear. 
Thus  when  his  glorious  courfe  is  run, 
How  brightly  fliines  the  fetting  fun  '. 
The  news  through  all  the  garden 
The  neighbours  throng'd  about  her  bed  ; 
Cheerful  (lie  rais'd  her  voice  aloud, 
And  thus  addrefs'd  the  weeping  crowd : 

My  friends,  I'm  haft'ning  to  the  grave. 
And  know,  nor  plum,  nor  peach  can  five. 
Yes,  to  thofe  manlions  go  I  inuft, 
Where  our  good  fathers  deep  in  duft. 
Nor  am  I  backward  to  explore 
That  gloomy  vale  they  trod  before. 
'Gainit  fate's  decree  what  can  I  fay  ? 
Like  other  fnails  I've  had  my  day. 
Full  many  Summer  fun's  I've  feen, 
And  now  die  grateful  and  ferene. 

If  men  the  higher  pow'rs  arraign, 
Shall  we  adopt  the  plaintive  It  rain  ? 
Nature,  profufe  to  us  and  ours, 
Hath  kindly  built  thefe  (tately  tow'rs ; 
Where,  when  the  flues  in  night  are  dreft. 
Secure  from  ev'ry  ill  we  reft, 
Survey  our  curious  ftruiture  well- 
How  firm,  and  yet  how  light  our  fliell  1 
Our  refuge,  when  cold  itorms  invade, 
And  in  the  dog-days  heat  our  (hade. 

Thus  when  we  fee  a  fleeter  race, 
We'll  not  lament  our  languid  pace. 
Do  dangers  rife,  or  foes  withftand  ? 
Are  not  our  caftles  clofe  at  haixd  ? 
For  let  a  fnail  at  diftance  roarn, 
The  happy  fnail  is  (till  at  home. 

Survey  our  gardens  bleft  retreats— 
Oh  !  what  a  paradife  of  fweets ! 
With  what  variety  is't  ftor'd  '. 
Unnumber'd  dainties  fpread  our  board. 
The  plums  afiume  their  glofly  blue, 
And  cheeks  of  nectarines  glow  for  you; 
Peaches  their  lovely  blufli  betray, 
And  apricots  their  gold  difplay; 
While  for  your  beverage,  when  you  dine. 
There  (creams  the  nectar  of  the  vine. 

Be  not  my  dying  words  forgot, 
Depart,  contented  with  your  lot ; 
Reprefs  complaints  when  they  begin. 
Ingratitude's  a  crying  fin. 
And  hold  it  for  a  truth,  that  we 
Are  quite  as  bleft  as  (nails  (hould  be. 

The  gardener  hears  with  great  furprife 
This  fage  difcourfe,  and  thus  he  cries— 
Oh  !  what  a  thanklefi  wretch  am  I, 
Who  pafs  tea  thout'and  favours  by  '. 


THE   WORKS  OF  COTTON". 


I  blame,  whene'er  the  linnet  fings, 
My  want  of  fong,  or  want  of  wings. 
The  piercing  hawk,  with  towering  flight, 
Reminds  me  of  deficient^of  fight. 
And  when  the  generous  fteed  I  view, 
Is  not  his  ftrength  my  envy  too  ? 
I  thus  at  birds  and  beafts  repine; 
And  with  their  various  talents  mine. 
Fool  as  I  am,  who  cannot  fee 
Reafon  is  more  than  all  to  me. 

My  landlord  boafts  a  large  eftate, 
Rides  in  his  coach,  and  eats  in  plate. 
What !  fliall  thefe  lures  bewitch  my  eye  ? 
Shall  they  extort  the  murmuring  figh  ? 
Say,  he  enjoys  fuperior  wealth — 
Is  not  my  better  portion,  health  ? 
Before  the  fun  has  gilt  the  ikies, 
Returning  labour  bids  me  rife ; 
Obedient  to  the  hunter's  horn, 
He  quits  his  couch  at  early  morn. 
By  want  compell'd,  I  dig  the  foil, 
His  is  a  voluntary  toil. 
For  truth  it  is,  fmce  Adam's  fall, 
His  fons  muft  labour  one  and  all. 
No  man's  exempted  by  his  purfe, 
Kings  are  included  in  the  curfe. 
Would  monarchs  relifh  what  they  eat  ? 
Tis  toil  that  makes  the  manchet  fweet ; 
Nature  enacts,  before  they're  fed, 
That  prince  and  peafant  earn  their  bread. 

Hence  wifdora  and  experience  fliow, 
That  blifs  in  equal  currents  flow ; 
That  happinefs  is  ftill  the  fame, 
Howe'er  ingredients  change  their  name. 
Nor  doth  this  theme  our  fearch  defy, 
'Tis  level  to  the  human  eye. 
Distinctions  introduc'd  by  men, 
Bewilder  and  obfcure  our  ken. 
I'll  ftore  thefe  leflbns  in  ray  heart, 
And  cheerful  act  my  proper  part. 
If  forrows  rife,  as  forrows  will, 
I'll  (land  refign'd  to  every  ill ; 
Convinc'd,  that  wifely  every  pack 
Is  fuited  to  the  bearer's  back. 

That  the  Complaints  of  Mankind,  ngainjl  their 
feveral  Stations  and  Provinces  in  Life,  are  of~ 
tenfrwolous,  and  always  •unwarrantable* 

FABLE  VI. 

THE  FARMER,  AND  THE  HORSE. 

"  'Tis  a  vain  world,  and  all  things  (how  it, 
"  I  thought  fo  once,  but  now  I  know  it  *." 
Ah  !  Gay  !  is  thy  poetic  page 
The  child  of  difappointed  age  ? 
Talk  not  of  threefcore  years  and  ten, 
For  what  avails  our  knowledge  then  ? 

But  grant,  that  this  expenenc'd  truth 
Were  afcertain'd  in  early  youth  ; 
Reader,  what  benefit  would  flow  ? 
I  vow,  I'm  at  a  lofs  to  know. 
The  world  alarms  the  human  breaft, 
Eecaufe  in  favage  colours  dreft. 

*  Gay's  Epitaph. 


'Tis  treated  with  invective  ftyle, 
And  Hands  impeach'd  of  fraud  and  guile. 
All  in  this  heavy  charge  agree- 
But  who's  in  fault— the  world  or  we  ? 
The  queftion's  ferious,  fliort,  and  clear, 
The  anfwer  claims  our  patient  ear. 
Yet  if  this  office  you  decline— 
With  all  my  heart — the  tafk  be  mine. 
I'm  certain  if  I  do  my  beft, 
Your  candour.will  excufe  the  reft. 
A  farmer,  with  a  penfive  brow, 
One  morn  accompany 'd  his  plough.    • 
The  larks  their  cheerful  matins  lung, 
The  woods  with  anfwering  mufic  rung  j 
The  fun  difplay'd  his  golden  ray, 
And  nature,  hail'd  the  rifing  day. 
But  ftill  the  peafant  all  the  while 
Refus'd  to  join  the  general  fmile. 
He,  like  his  fathers  long  before, 
Refembled  much  the  Jews  of  yore  ; 
Whofe  murmurs  impious,  weak,  and  vain, 
Nor  quails  nor  manna  could  reftrain. 

Did  accidental  dearth  prevail  ? 
How  prone  to  tell  his  piteous  tale  ! 
Pregnant  with  joys  did  plenty  rife  ? 
How  prone  to  blame  indulgent  fkies ! 
Thus  ever  ready  to  complain, 
For  plenty  finks  the  price  of  grain. 

At  length  he  fpake  : — Ye  powers  divine, 
Was  ever  lot  fo  hard  as  mine  ? 
From  infant  life  art  arrant  (lave, 
Clofe  to  the  confines  of  the  grave. 
Have  not  I  follow'd  my  employ 
Near  threefcore  winters,  man  and  boy  ! 
But  fince  I  call'd  this  farm  my  own, 
What  fcenes  of  forrow  have  1  known  I 
Alas  1  if  all  the  truth  were  told, 
Hath  not  the  rot  impair'd  my  fold  ? 
Hath  not  the  rneailes  feiz'd  my  fwirie  ? 
Hath  not  the  murrain  flain  my  kine  ? 
Or  fay  that  horfes  be  my  theme, 
Hath  not  the  ftaggers  thinn'd  my  team  ? 
Have  not  a  thoufand  ills  befide 
Depriv'd  my  ftable  of  its  pride  ? 

When  I  furvey  my  lands  around, 
What  thorns  and  thirties  fpread  my  ground  ! 
Doth  not  the  grain  my  hopes  beguile, 
And  mildews  mock  the  threfher's  toil  ? 
However  poor  the  harvefts  palt ! 
What  fo  deficient  as  the  laft  1 
But  though  nur  blafts,  nor  mildews  rife, 
My  turnips  are  deftroy'd  by  flies  ; 
My  flieep  are  pin'd  to  fuch  degree, 
That  not  a  butcher  comes  to  me. 

Seafons  are  cha.ng'd  from  what  they  were, 
And  hence  too  foul,  or  hence  too  fair. 
Now  fcorching  heat  and  drought  annoy, 
And  now  jeturning  fhowers  deftroy. 
Thus  have  I  pafs'd  my  better  years 
'Midft  difappointments,  cares,  and  tears. 
And  now,  when  J  compute  my  gains, 
What  have  I  reap'd  for  ali  my  pains  ? 

Oh  !  had  I  known  in  manhood's  prime 
Thefe  flow  convictions  wrought  by  time  ; 
Would  I  have  brav'd  the  various  woes 
Of  Summer  funs,  and.  Winter  fnows? 
Would  I  have'teropted  every  (ky, 
So  wet,  fo.  windy,  or  fo  dry  ? 


FABLES. 


"33 


With  all  the  elements  at  ftrife  ? 
Ah  !  no — I  then  had  plann'd  a  life, 
Where  wealth  attends  the  middle  ftage, 
And  reft  and  comfort  wait  on  age. 
Where  rot  and  murrain  ne'er  commence, 
Nor  paftures  burn  at  my  expence  ; 
Nor  injur'd  cows  their  wants  bewail, 
Nor  dairies  mourn  the  milklefs  pail ; 
Nor  barns  lament  the  blalted  grain, 
Nor  cattle  curie  the  barren  plain. 

Dun  hobbled  by  his  matter's  fide, 
And  thus  the  fober  brute  reply'd  : 

Look  through  your  team,  and  where's  the  fteed 
Who  dares  dii'pute  with  me  his  breed  ? 
Few  horfes  trace  their  lineage  higher> 
Godolphin's  Arab  was  my  fire  ; 
My  dam  was  fprung  from  Panton's  ftud, 
My  grandam  boalted  Childers'  blood. 
But  ah  !  it  now  avails  me  not 
By  what  illuftrious  chief  begot  I 
Spavins  pay  no  regard  to  birth, 
And  failing  vifion  links  my  worth. 
The  'fquire,  when  he  dilgufted  grew, 
Transferr'd  his  property  to  you. 
And  fince  poor  Dun  "  became  your  own, 
"  What  fcenes  of  forrow  have  I  known  I" 
Hath  it  not  been  my  conftant  toil 
To  drag  the  plough  and  turn  the  foil? 
Are  not  my  bleeding  ihoulders  wrung 
By  large  and  weighty  loads  of  dung  ? 
When  the  fliorn  meadows  claim  your  care, 
And  fragrant  cocks  perfume  the  air ; 
When  Ceres'  ripen'd  fruits  abound. 
And  plenty  wavts  her  (heaves  around; 
True  to  my  collar,  home  I  bear 
The  treafures  of  the  fruitful  year. 
And  though  this  drudgery  be  mine, 
You  never  heard  me  once  repine. 

Yet  what  rewards  have  crown'd  ray  days  ? 
I'm  grudg'd  the  poor  reward  of  praile. 
For  oats  fmall  gratitude  I  owe, 
Beans  were  untafled  joys,  you  know. 
And  now  I'm  haft'ning  to  my  end, 
Paft  fervices  can  find  no  friend. 
Infirmities,  difeafe,  .and  age, 
Provoke  my  furly  driver's  rage. 
Look  to  my  wounded  flanks,  you'll  fee 
No  horfe  was  ever  us'd  like  me. 

But  now  I  eat  my  meals  with  pain, 
Averfe  to  maftkate  the  grain. 
Hence  you  direct,  at  night  and  morn, 
That  chaff  accompany  my  corn  ; 
For  hulks,  although  my  teeth  be  few, 
Force  my  reluctant  jaws  to  chew. 
What  then  ?  of  life  (hall  I  complain. 
And  call  it  fleeting,  falfe,  and  vain  ? 
Againft  the  world  (hall  I  inveigh, 
Becaufe  my  grinders  now  decay  ? 

You  think  it  were  the  wifer  plan, 
Had  I  conforted  ne'er  with  man  ; 
Had  I  my  liberty  maintain'd, 
Or  liberty  by  flight  regain'd, 
And  rang'd  o'er  diftant  hills  and  dales 
With  the  wild  forefters  of  Wales. 

Grant  I  fucceeded  to  my  mind- 
Is  happinels  to  hilU  conlin'd  ! 
Don't  famine  oft  -reel  her  throne 
Upon  the  rugged  mountain's  it  one  ? 


And  don't  the  lower  paftures  fail, 

hen  fnows  defcending  choke  the  vak ! 
Or  who  fo  hardy  to  declare 

3ifeafe  and  death  ne'er  enter  there  ? 
Do  pains  or  ficknefs  here  invade  ? 

Man  tenders  me  his  cheerful  aid. 

For  who  beholds  his  hungry  bead, 

But  grants  him  fome  fupply  at  leaft  ? 

Int'reft  mall  prompt  him  to  purfue 

What  inclination  would  not  do. 
Say,  had  I  been  the  defert's  foal, 

Through  life  eftrang'd  to  man's  controul; 

What  fervice  had  I  done  on  earth, 

Or  who  could  profit  by  my  birth  ? 

My  back  had  ne'er  fuflain'd  thy  weight, 

My  chcfl  ne'er  known  thy  waggon's  freight 

But  now  my  feveral  powers  combine 

To  anfwer  nature's  ends  and  thine. 

I'm  ufeful  thus  in  every  view — 

Oh  !  could  I  fay  the  fame  of  you ! 
Superior  evils  had  enfu'd, 

With  prefcience  had  I  been  endu'd. 

Ills,  though  at  diftance  fcen,  deftroy, 

Or  fickea  every  prefent  joy. 

We  relifh  every  new  delight, 

When  future  griefs  elude  our  fight. 

To  blindnefs  then  what  thanks  are  due  I 

It  makes  each  fingle  comfort  too. 

The  colt,  unknown  to  pain  and  toil, 

Anticipates  to-morrow's  fmile. 

Yon  lamb  enjoys  the  prefent  hour, 

As  ilranger  to  the  butcher's  power. 
Your's  is  a  wild  Utopian  fcheme, 

A  boy  would  blufh  to  own  your  dream. 

Be  your  profedion  what  it  will, 

No  province  is  exempt  from  ill. 

Quite  from  the  cottage  to  the  throne, 

Stations  have  forrows  of  their  own. 

Why  mould  a  peafant  then  explore 

What  longer  heads  ne'er  found  before  ? 

Go,  preach  my  doctrine  to  your  fon, 

By  your's,  the  lad  would  be  undone. 

But  whether  he  regards  or  not, 

Your  lecture  would  be  foon  forgot . 

The  hopes  which  gull'd  the  parent's  breaft, 

Ere  long  will  make  his  fon  their  jeft. 

Though  now  thefe  cobwed  cheats  you  fpurnj 

Yet  every  man's  a  dupe  in  turn., 

And  wifely  fo  ordain'd,  indeed, 

(Whate'er  philofophersmay  plead.) 

Elfe  life  would  ftagnate  at  its  fource, 

And  Man  and  Horfe  decline  the  courfe. 
Then  bid  young  Ralplio  never  mind  it. 

But  take  the  world  as  he  fliall  find  it. 

FABLE  Vll. 

IT  feems,  an  Owl,  in  days  of  yore, 
Had  turn'd  a  thoufand  volumes  o'er. 
His  fame  for  literature  extends, 
And  ftrikes  the  ears  of  partial  friends. 
They  wcigh'd  the  learning  of  the  fowl, 
And  thought  him  a  prodigious  Owl ! 
From  fuch  applaufe  what  could  betide  * 
It  only  cocker'd  him  in  pride. 
Extoll'd  for  fciences  and  arts, 

,  His  bolbm  burn'd  to  {how  his  parts ; 

•  (No  wonder  that  an  Owl  of  fjiiru, 
k  hii  vani-.y  tor  isunt). 


THE   WORKS   OF   COTTON. 


He  {hows  infatiate  thirft  of  praife, 

Ambitious  of  the  poet's  bays. 

Perch 'd  on  Parnaffus  all  night  long, 

He  hoots  a  fonnet  or  a  fong; 

And  while  the  village  hear  his  note, 

They  curfe  the  fcreaming  whore-fon's  throat. 

Amidft  the  darknefs  of  the  night, 
Our  feather'd  poet  wings  his  flight, 
And,  as  capricious  fate  ordains, 
A  chimney's  treach'rous  fummit  gains ; 
XVhich  much  impair'd  by  wind  and  weather, 
Down  fall  the  bricks  and  bird  together. 

The  Owl  expands  his  azure  eyes, 
And  fees  a  Non-con's  fludy  rife  ; 
The  walls  were  deck'd  with  hallow'd  bands 
Of  worthies,  by  th'  engraver's  hands ; 
All  champions  for  the  good  old  caufe  ! 
Whofe  confcience  interfer'd  with  laws ; 
But  yet  no  foes  to  king  or  people, 
Though  mortal  foes  to  church  and  ftceple. 
Baxter,  with  apoftolic  grace, 
Difplay'd  his  metzotinto  face  ; 
While  here  and  there  fome  luckier  faint 
Attained  to  dignity  of  paini. 

Rang'd  in  proportion  to  their  fize, 
The  books  by  due  gradations  rife. 
Here  the  good  Fathers  lodg'd  their  trufl ; 
There  zealous  Calvin  flept  in  duft. 
Here  Pool  his  learned  treafures  keeps; 
There  Fox  o'er  dying  martyrs  weeps ; 
While  reams  on  reams  infatiate  drink 
Whole  deluges  of  Henry's  ink. 

Columns  of  fermons  pil'd  on  high, 
Attract  the  bird's  admiring  eye. 
Thofe  works  a  good  old  age  acquir'd, 
Which  had  in  manufcript  expir'd ; 
For  manufcripts,  of  fleeting  date, 
Seldom  furvive  their  infant  ftate. 
The  healthieft  live  not  half  their  days, 
But  die  a  thoufand  various  ways; 
Sometimes  inglorioufly  apply'd 
To  purpofes  the  Mufe  mail  hide. 
Or,  fliould  they  meet  no  fate  below, 
How  oft  tobacco  proves  their  foe  ! 
Or  elfe  fome  cook  purloins  a  leaf 
To  finge  her  fowl,  or  fave  her  beef; 
But  fernions  'fcape  both  fate  and  fire, 
By  congregational  defire. 

Difplay'd  at  large  upon  the  table 
Was  Bunyan's  much-admir'd  fable  ; 
And  as  his  Pilgrim  fprawling  lay, 
It  chanc'd  the  Owl  advanc'd  that  way. 

The  bird  explores  the  pious  dream, 
And  plays  a  vifionary  fchcmc; 
Determin'd,  as  he  read  the  fage, 
To  copy  from  the  tinker's  page. 

The  thief  now  quits  his  learn'd  abode, 
And  fcales  aloft  the  focty  road  ; 
Flies  to  Parnaffus'  top  once  more, 
Refolv'd  to  dream  as  well  as  fnore ; 
And  what  he  dreamt  by  day,  the  wight 
In  writing  o'er,  confume*  the  night, 

Plum'd  with  conceit,  hV  calls  aloud, 
And  thus  befpeaks  the  purblind  crowd  : 
Say  not,  that  man  alone's  a  poet, 
Poets  are  Owls — my  verfe  {hall  mow  it. 
And  while  he  read  his  labcur'd  lays, 
His  blue-ey'd  brothers  hooted  praife. 
Bu -:  now  his  femait  mate  by  turns 
With  pity  and  with  chokr  burns ; 


When  thus  her  confort  fhe  addrefs'i?, 
And  all  her  various  thoughts  exprefs'd  : 

Why,  prithee,  hufband,  rant  no  more, 
'Tis  time  to  give  thefe  follies  o'er. 
Be  wife,  and  follow  my  advke — 
Go — catch  ycur  family  fome  mice. 
'Twere  better  to  refume  your  trade, 
And  fpend  your  nights  in  ambufcade. 
What  \  if  you  fatten  by  your  fchemes, 
And  fare  iuxurioufly  in  dreams  ! 
While  you  ideal  mice  are  carving, 
I  and  my  family  are  flarving. 
Reflect  upon  our  nuptial  hours, 
Where  will  you  find  a  brood  like  our's  ? 
Our  offspring  might  become  a  queen, 
For  finer  Owlets  ne'er  were  feen ! 

'Ods — blue  !  the  furly  hob  reply'd, 
I'll  amply  for  my  heirs  provide. 
Why,  Madgs !  when  Colley  Gibber  dies, 
Thou'lt  fee  thy  mate  a  Laur'ate  rife  ; 
For  never  poets  held  this  place, 
Except  defcendants  of  our  race. 

But  foft — the  female  fage  rejoin'd— « 
Say  youabjur'd  the  purring  kind  ; 
And  nobly  left  inglorious  rats 
To  vulgar  owls,  or  fordid  cats. 
Say,  you  the  healing  art  eflay'd, 
And  piddled  in  the  doctor's  trade  ; 
At  lead  you'd  earn  #s  good  provifions, 
And  better  this  than  fcribbling  vifions. 
A  due  regard  to  me,  or  felf, 
Wou'd  always  make  you  dream  of  pelf ; 
And  when  you  dreamt  your  nights  away, 
You'd  realize  your  dreams  by  day. 
Hence  far  fuperior  gains  wou'd  rife, 
And  1  be  fat,  and  you  be  wife. 

But,  Madge,  though  I  applaud  your  fchcme, 
You'd  wifh  my  patients  ftill  to  dream  ! 
Waking,  they'd  laugh  at  my  vocation, 
Or  difapprove  my  education ; 
And  they  deleft  your  folemn  h»b, 

Or  take  me  for  profeffor  L . 

Equipt  with  powder  and  with  pill, 
He  takes  his  licence  out  to  kill. 
Pradtis'd  in  all  a  doctor's  airs, 
To  Batfon's  fenatehe  repairs, 
Drefs'd  in  his  flowing  wig  of  knowledge^ 
To  greet  his  brethren  of  the  college  ; 
Takes  up  the  papers  of  the  day, 
Perhaps  for  want  of  what  to  fay ; 
Through  ev'ry  column  he  purfues. 
Alike  advertifements  and  news ; 
O'er  lifts  of  cures  with  rapture  runs, 
Wrought  by  Apollo's  natural  fons ; 
Admires  the  rich  Hibernian  ftock 
Of  dotftors,  Henry,  Ward,  and  Rock* 
He  dwells  on  each  illuftrious  name, 
And  fighs  at  once  for  fees  and  fame. 
Now,  like  the  doftors  of  to-day, 
Retains  his  puffers  too  in  pay. 
Ground  his  reputation  flew, 
His  practice  with  his  credit  grew. 
At  length  the  court  receives  the  fagef 
And  lordlings  iu  his  caufe  engage. 
He  dupes,  befide  plebeian  fowls, 
The  whole  Nobility  of  Owls. 
Thus  cv'ry  where  he  gains  renown, 
And  fills  his  jpurfe,  and  thins  U»C 


TALES. 


TALES. 


THE  LAMB  AND  THE  PIG. 

CONSULT  the  moralift,  you'll  find 
That  education  forms  the  mind. 
But  education  ne'er  fupply'd 
What  ruling  nature  hath  deny'd. 
If  you'll  the  following  page  purfue, 
My  tale  flvall  prove  this  doctrine  true. 
Since  to  the  mufe  all  brutes  belong, 
The  iamb  (hall  ufher  in  my  fong ; 
Whofe  fnowy  fleece  adorn'd  her  fkin, 
Emblem  of  native  white  within. 
Meeknefs  and  love  poflels'd  her  foul, 
And  innocence  had  crown'd  the  whole. 
It  chanc'd,  in  fome  unguarded  hour, 
(Ah !  purity,  precarious  flower  '. 
Let  maidens  of  the  prefent  age 
Tremble,  when  they  perufe  my  page.) 
It  chanc'd  upon  a  lucklefs  day, 
The  little  wanton,  full  of  play, 
Rejoic'd  a  thymy  bank  to  gain, 
But  fhort  the  triumphs  of  her  reign  ! 
The  treacherous  Hopes  her  fate  foretel, 
And  foon  the  pretty  trifler  fell. 
Beneath,  a  dirty  ditch  imprels'd 
Its  mire  upon  her  fpotlefs  veft. 
What  greater  ill  cou'd  lamb  betide, 
The  butcher's  barbarous  knife  bt  fide  ? 

The  (hepherd,  wounded  with  her  cries, 
Strait  to  the  bleating  fuflerer  flies. 
The  lambkin  in  his  arms  he  took, 
And  borp  her  to  a  neighbouring  brook. 
The  filve'r  ftreams  her  wool  rcfm'd, 
Her  fleece  in  virgin  whitenefs  ftiin'd. 

Cleans'd  from  pollution's  every  ffoin, 
She  join'd  her  fellows  on  the  plain ; 
And  fawafar  the  {linking  ftiore, 
But  ne'er  approach'd  thofe  dangers  more. 
The  fhepherd  blefs'd  the  kind  event, 
And  view'd  his  flock  with  fvveet  content. 

To  market  next  he  fliap'd  his  way, 
And  bought  provifions  for  the  day. 
But  made,  for  winter's  rich  fuppiy, 
A  purchafe  from  a  farmer's  fty. 
The  children  round  their  parent  crowd. 
And  teftify  their  mirth  aloud. 
They  faw  the  ftranger  with  furprife, 
And  all  admir'd  his  little  eyes. 
Familiar  grown,  he  fhar'd  their  joys, 
Shar'd  too  the  porridge  with  the  boys. 
The  females  o'er  his  drefs  prefide, 
They  wafli  his  face,  and  fcour  his  hide. 
But  daily  more  a  Swine  he  grew, 
For  all  thcfe  houfe wives  e'er  cou'.d  do. 
Hence  let  my  youthful  reader  know, 
That  once  a  hog,  and  always  ib. 


A  DUTCH  TAJ.E. 

WHEN  plcafures  court  the  human  heart, 

Oh  !  'tis  reluctant  work  to  part. 

Are  we  with  griefs  and  pains  opprefs'd  ? 

Woe  fays  that  Death's  a  welcome  gueil  ? 

Though  fure  to  cure  our  evils  all, 

He's  the  laft  doctor  we  wou'd  calL 

We  think,  if  he  arrives  at  morn, 

"Tis  hard  to  die,  as  foon  as  born. 

Or  if  the  conqueror  invade, 

When  life  projects  the  evening  (hade, 

Do  we  not  meditate  delay, 

And  flill  requeft  a  longer  ftay  ? 

We  fliift  our  homes,  we  change  the  uir, 

And  double,  like  the  hunted  hare. 

Thus  be  it  morn,  or  night,  or  noon, 

Come  when  he  will,  he  conies  too  foon ! 

You  wifli  my  fubject  I  wou'd  wave, 
The  preface  is  fo  very  grave. 
Come  then,  my  friend,  I'll  change  my  ftyle. 
And  couch  instruction  with  a  fmile. 
But  promife,  ere  I  tell  my  tale, 
The  ferious  moral  (hall  prevail. 

Vanbruin  dy'd — his  Ion,  we're  told, 
Succeeded  to  his  father's  gold. 
Flufti'd  with  his  wealth,  the  thoughtkfs  bkde 
Defpis'd  frugality  and  trade ; 
Left  Amfterdam  with  eager  hafle, 
Drefs  and  the  Hague  engrofs'd  his  tafte. 
Ere  long  his  pailion  chang'd  its  fliape, 
He  grew  enamour'd  with  the  grape. 
Frequented  much  a  houfe  of  cheer, 
Juft  like  our  fools  of  fortune  here  ; 
With  fots  and  harlots  fond  $o  join, 
And  revel  e'er  his  midnight  wine 

Once  on  a  time  the  bowls  had  flow'd, 
Quite  till  the  morning  cock  had  crow'd. 
When  Death,  at  every  hour  awake, 
Entcr'd  the  room,  and  claim'd  the  rake. 
The  youth's  complexion  fpoke  his  fears, 
Soft  ftole  adown  his  cheek  the  tears. 
At  length  the  anguiih  of  his  breaft 
With  fault'ring  tongue  he  thus  exprefs'd : 
Thou  king  of  terrors,  hear  my  praye% 
And  condeicend  for  once  to  fpare. 
Let  me  thy  clemency  engage, 
New  to  the  world,  and  green  in  age. 
When  life  no  pleafures  can  difpcnie, 
Or  pleafures  pall  upon  the  fenfc  ; 
When  the  eye  feels  departing  light, 
An<'.  rolls  its  orb  in  vain  for  light ; 

v.ufic's  joys  no  longer  cheer 
i'he  Ikk'ning  heart,  or  heavy  car  j 


THE   WORKS   OF   COTTON. 


Or  when  my  aching  limbs  forbear, 
In  fprightly  balls  to  join  the  fair ; 
I'll  not  repeat  my  fuit  to  Death, 
But  cheerfully  refign  my  breath. 

Done,  fay*  the  monarch — be  itfo; 
Obferve — you  promife  tiien  to  go  '. 

What  favour  fuch  protracled  date 
From  the  ftern  minifter  of  fate  ! 
Your  wonder  will  be  greater  foon, 
To  hear  the  wretch  perverts  the  boon. 
Who,  during  years  beyond  a  fcore, 
Ne'er  thought  upon  his  promife  more  ! 

But  were  thefe  terms  by  Death  forgot  ? 
Ah  !  no — again  he  feeks  the  fot. 
The  wretch  was  in  the  tavern  found, 
With  a  few  gouty  friends  around. 
Dropfy  had  leiz'd  his  legs  and  thighs, 
Palfy  his  hands,  and  rheum  his  eyes. 
When  thus  the  king — Intemperate  elf, 
Thus,  by  debauch,  to  dupe  yourfelf. 
What!  are  my  terrors  fpurn'd  by  thee  J 
Thou  fool !  to  trifle  thus  with  me ! 
You  aflc'd  before  for  length  of  days, 
Only  to  riot  various  ways. 
What  were  thy  pleas  but  then  a  fneer  ? 
I'll  now  retort  with  jeft  fcvere. 

Read  this  fmall  print,  the  monarch  cries — 
You  mock  me,  fir,  the  man  replies. 
I  fcarce  could  read  when  in  my  prime, 
And  now  my  fight's  impair'd  by  time. 
Sure  you  confider  not  my  age— 
I  can't  difcern  a  fingle  page.  , 

And  when  my  friends  the  bottle  pafs, 
I  fcarce  can  fee  to  fill  my  g"lafs. 

Here,  take  this  nut,  obferve  it  well — 
'Tis  my  command  you  crack  the  {hell. 

How  can  fuch  orders  be  obey'd  ? 
My  grinders,  fir,  are  quite  decay'd. 
My  teeth  can  fcarce  divide  my  bread, 
And  not  a  found  one  in  my  head! 

But  Death,  who  more  farcaftic  grew, 
Difclos'da  violin  to  view; 
Then  loud  he  call'd,  Old  Boy,  advance, 
Stretch  out  your  legs,  and  lead  the  dance. 

The  man  rejoin'd — When  age  furrounds, 
How  can  the  ear  diftinguifti  founds? 
Are  not  my  limbs  unwieldy  grown  ? 
Are  not  my  feet  as  cold  as  {lone  ? 
Dear  fir,  take  pity  on  my  {late — 
My  legs  can  fcarce  fupport  my  weight ! 

Death  drops  the  quaint,  infulting  joke, 
And  meditates  the  fatal  ftroke. 
Afluming  all  his  terrors  now, 
He  fpeaks  with  anger  on  his  brow. 

Is  thus  my  lenity  abus'd, 
And  dare  you  hope  to  {land  excus'd  ? 
You've  fp"ent  your  time,  that  pearl  of  price  ! 
To  the  dttefted  ends  of  vice. 
Purchas'd  your  fliort-liv'd  pleafures  dear, 
And  leal'd  your  own  dcftruc~lion  here. 
Inflam'd  your  reckoning  too  above, 
By  midnight  bowls,  and  lawlefs  love. 
Warning,  you  know,  I  gave  betimes— 
Now  go,  and  anfwcr  for  your  crimes. 

Oh  !  my  good  lord,  reprefs  the  blow— 
I  am  not  yet  prepar'd  to  go. 
And  let  it,  fir,  be  further  told, 
That  T.ot  a  neighbour  thinks  me  old> 


My  hairs  are  now  but  turning  gray, 
I  am  not  fixty.  fir,  till  May. 
Grant  me  the  common  date  of  men, 
I  afk  but  threcfcore  years  and  ten. 

Dar'ft  thou,  prevaricating  knave, 
Infult  the  monarch  of  the  grave  ? 
I  claim  thy  folemn  contract  paft— 
Wherefore  this  moment  is  thy  laft. 

Thus  having  faid,  he  fpeeds  his  dart, 
And  cleaves  the  hoary  dotard's  heart. 

THE  SECOND  ODE  OF  THE  SECONO 
BOOK  OF  HORACE. 

INSCRIBED    TO    T.   V.    ESQ^. 

DEAR  youth,  to  hoarded  wealth  a  foe, 
Riches  with  faded  luftre  glow ; 
Yes,  dim  the  treafures  of  the  mine, 
Unlefs  with  temperate  ufe  they  ftiine. 
This  {lamps  a  value  on  the  gold, 
So  Proculeius  thought  of  old. 

Soon  as  this  generous  Roman  faw     . 
riis  father's  fons  profcrib'd  by  law, 
The  knight  difcharg'd  a  parent's  part, 
They  (har'd  his  fortune  and  his  heart. 
Hence  {lands  confign'd  a  brother's  name, 
To  immortality  and  fame. 

Wou'd  you  true  empire  afcertain  ? 
Curb  all  immoderate  luft  of  gain. 
This  is  the  beft  ambition  known, 
A  greater  conqueft  than  a  throne. 
For  know,  fliould  avarice  con troul, 
Farewel  the  triumphs  of  the  foul. 

This  is  a  dropfy  of  the  mind, 
Refembling  the  corporeal  kind ; 
For  who  with  this  difeafe  are  curft, 
The  more  they  drink,  the  more  they  thirft. 
Indulgence  feeds  their  bloated  veins, 
And  pale-ey'd,  fighing  languor  reigns. 

Virtue,  who  differs  from  the  crowd, 
Rejecls  the  covetous  and  proud  ; 
Difdains  the  wild  ambitious  breaft, 
And  fcorns  to  call  a  monarch  bleft  ; 
Labours  to  refcue  truth  and  fenfe 
From  fpecious  founds,  and  vain  pretence. 

-    Virtue  to  that  diftinguifh'd  few, 

Gives  royalty  and  conqueft  too  ; 

That  wife  minority,  who  own, 

And  pay  their  tribute  to  her  throne  ; 

Who  view  with  undefiring  eyes. 

And  fpurn  that  wealth  which  mifers  prize. 

THE  TENTH  ODE  OF  THE  SECOND  BOOK, 

WOU'D  you,  my  friend,  true  blifs  obtain  ? 
Nor  prefs  the  coail,  nor  tempt  the  main. 
In  open  feas  loud  tempefts  roar, 
And  treacherous  rocks  begirt  the  {bore- 

Hatred  to  all  extremes  is  feen, 
In  thofe  who  love  the  golden  mean. 
They  nor  in  palaces  rejoice, 
Nor  is  the  fordid  cot  then;  choice. 


TALES. 


The  mi  Jfile  ftate  of  life  is  beft, 
Exalted  ftations  find  no  reft  ; 
Storms  fhake  th'  afpiring  pine  and  tower, 
And  mountains  feel  the  thunder's  power. 

The  mind  prepar'd  for  each  event, 
In  every  ftate  maintains  content. 
She  hopes  the  belt,  when  ftorms  prevail, 
Nor  trufts  too  far  the  profp'rous  gale. 

Shou'd  time  returning  winters  bring, 
Returning  winter  yields  to  Ipring. 


Shou'd  darknefs  ffiroud  :he  prefcnt  ikies, 
Hereafter  brighter  funs  mall  rife. 

When  Paan  fhoots  his  fiery  darts, 
Difeafe  and  death  transfix  our  hearts; 
Hut  oft  the  god  xvithholds  his  bow, 
In  pity  to  the  race  below. 

When  clouds  the  angry  heavens  deform, 
Be  ftrong  and  brave  the  fvvelling  ftorm ; 
Amidft  profperity  's  full  gales 
Be  humble,  and  contract  your  fiili. 


EPITAPHS. 


READER,  approach  my  urn — thou  need'ft  not  fear 

Th'  extorted  promife  of  one  plaintive  tear, 

To  mourn  thy  unknown  friend — from  me  thou'lt 

learn 

More  than  a  Plato  taught — the  grand  concern 
Of  mortals  ! — Wrapt  in  penfive  thought,  furvey 
This  little  freehold  of  unthinking  clay, 
And  know  thy  end  ! 
Though  young,  though  gay,  this  fcene  of  death 

explore, 
Alas !  the  young,  the  gay  is  now  no  more  ! 

ON  ROBERT  CLAVERING,  M.  B. 

OH  !  come,  who  know  the  childlefs  parent's  figh, 
The  bleeding  bofom,  and  the  ftreaming  eye ; 
"Who  feel  the  wounds  a  dying  friend  imparts, 
When  the  laft  pang  divides  two  focial  hearts. 
This  weeping  marble  claims  the  generous  tear, 
Here  lies  the  friend,  the  Ion,  and  all  that's  dear. 

He  fell  full-bloffom'd  in  the  pride  of  youth, 
The  nobler  pride  of  fcience,  worth,  and  truth. 
Calm  and  ferene  he  vicw'd  his  mouldering  clay, 
Nor  fear'd  to  go,  nor  fondly  wifh'd  to  ftay. 
And  when  the  king  of  terrors  he  defcry'd, 
Kifs'd  the  ftern  mandate,  bow'd  his  head,  and  dy'd. 

ON  COLONEL  GARDINER. 
Who  -wasjljin  in  the  Battle  at  Prejlonpans,  1745. 

WHILE  fainter  merit,  afks  the  powers  of  verfe, 
Our  faithful  line  fhall  Gardiner's  worth  rehearfe. 
The  bleeding  hero,  and  the  martyr'd  faint, 
Tranfccnds  the  poet's  pen,  the  herald's  paint. 
His  the  beft  path  to  fame  that  e'er  was  trod, 
And  furcly  his  a  glorious  road  to  God. 

ON  MR.  SIBLEY,  OF  STUDHAM. 

HE^E  lies  an  honeft  man  !  without  pretence 
To  more  than  prudence,  and  to  common  fenfe ; 
Who  knew  no  vanity,  difguife,  nor  art, 
Who  fcorn'd  all  language  foreign  to  the  heart.     ' 
Piffufive  as  the  light  his  bounty  fpread, 
Cloth'd  were  the  naked,  and  the  hungry  fed. 

"  Thcfe  be  his  honours!1'  honours  that  difclaim 
The  blazon'd  fcutchcon.  and  the  herald's  fame ! 

VOL.  XI. 


Honours !  which  boaft  defiance  to  the  grave, 
Where,  fpite  of  AnfHs,  rots  the  garter'd  knave. 

ON  A  LADY, 

WHO  HAD  LABOURED  UNDER  A  CANCER. 

STRANGER,  thefe  dear  remains  contain'd  a  mind 
As  infants  guilelefs,  and  as  angels  kind. 
Ripening  for  heav'n,  by  pains  and  fufferings  try'd, 
To  pain  fuperior,  and  unknown  to  pride. 
Calm  and  ferene  beneath  affliction's  rod, 
Becaufe  me  gave  her  willing  heart  to  God. 
Becaufe  me  trufted  in  her  Saviour's  pow'r, 
Hence  firm  and  fearlefs  in  the  dying  hour! 

No  venal  mufe  this  faithful  picture  draws, 
Bleft  faint  I  defert  like  yours  extorts  applaufe. 
Oh  !  let  a  weeping  friend  difclu'-rge  his  due, 
His  debt  to  worth,  to  excellence,  and  you ! 

ON  MISS  GEE, 

WHO    DIED  OCTOBER   25.  1736.  JETAT.  zS. 

BEAUTEOUS,  nor  known  to  pride,  to  friends  fincere, 
Mild  to  thy  neighbour,  to  thyfelf  fevere  ; 
UnftainM  thy  honour — and  thy  wit  was  fuch, 
Kuew  no  extremes,  nor  little,  nor  too  much. 
Few  were  thy  years,  and  painful  through  the  whole, 
Yet  calm  thy  paffage,  and  ferene  thy  foul. 

Reader,  amidit  thefe  facred  crowds  that  fleep  *, 
View  this  once  lovely  form,  nor  grudge  to  weep.— • 
O  death,  all  terrible  !  how  fure  thy  hour  ! 
How  wide  thy  conquefts  !  and  how  fell  thy  power  ! 
When  youth,  wit,  virtue,  plead  for  longer  reign, 
When  youth,  when  wit,  when  virtue  plead  in  vain; 
Stranger,  then  weep  afrefh— for  know  this  clay 
Was  once  the  good, the  wile,  the  beautiful,  the  gay. 

ON  MR.  THOMAS  STRONG. 

WHO  DIED  DECEMBER  26.  1736. 

IK  action  prudent,  and  in  word  fincere, 
In  fnendfliip  faithful,  and  in  honour  clear; 

*  The  author  is  ftippofed  to  be  infcribing  the 
character  of  the  dfceefed  upon  her  tomb,  an/i 
therefvre  "  crowds  tkatjletp"  mean  tbe  deed.. 

G 


THE    WORKS   OF    fcOTTON. 


Through  life's  vain  fcenes  the  fame  in  every  part, 
A  fteady  judgment,  and  an  honell  heart. 
Thou  vaunt'ft  no  honours — all  thy  boaft  a  mind 
As  infants  guilelefs,  and  as  angels  kind. 

Whvn  aik'd  to  whom  thefe  lovely  truths  belong, 
Thy  friends  ihall  anfwer,  weeping,  '•  Here  iits 
"  STRONG." 

r    ON  JOHN  DUKE  OF  BRIDGWATER, 

WHO     DIED    IN     THE    2IST.    YEAR    OF    HIS    AGE, 
1747-8- 

INTENT  to  hear,  and  bounteous  to  beftotv, 
A  mind  that  melted  at  another's  woe ; 


Studious  to  aft  the  felf-approving  part, 
That  jnidnight-mufic  of  the  honeft  heart  I 
Thofe  filent  joys  th'  iiluftrious  youth  poflefsM, 
Thole  tloudiefs  funfhines  of  tlic  ipotleis  breait r 
From  pride  of  peerage,  and  from  ibily  free, 
Lite's  t- ariy  morn,  fair  virtue  !   gave  to  thee  ; 
Forbade  the  tear  to  fleal  from  iorrow's  eye, 
Bade  anxious  poverty  forget  to  ugh  ; 
Like  Titus,  knew  tl-.e  value  of  a  day, 
And  want  went  fmiiing  from  his  gates  away. 
The    reft    were   honours  borraw'd  from   the 

throne ; 
Thefe  honours,  EGURTON,  were  all  thy  own  I 


MISCELLANIES. 


AN  INVOCATION  OF  HAPPINESS, 

AFTER  THE    ORISNTAL    MANNER  OF   SPEECH. 

I.  TELL  me,  O  thou  faired  among1  virgins,  where 

dofl  thou  lay  thy  meek  contented  head  ? 
3.  Doft  thou  dwell  upon   the   mountains  ;    dofl 
thou  m:.ke  thy  couch  in  the  vallies  ? 

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

upon  my  fair  one;  yea,  in  the  vifions  of  the 
night  have  I  purfued  thee. 

4.  When  I  awoke,  my  meditation  was  upon  thee, 

and  the  day  was  fpent  in  fearch  after  thy 
embraces. 

5.  Why  doft  thou  flee  from  me,  as  the  tender 

hind,  or  the  young  roc  upon  the  hills  ? 

6.  Without  thy  prefence,  in  vain  blufhes  the  rofc, 

in  vainglowstheruby.theciunamonbreatheth 
its  fragrance  in  vain. 

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

Lebanon  ?  Shall  I  perfume  it  with  all  the 
fpices  of  Arabia  ?  Wilt  thou  be  tempted 
whh  Sabean  odours,  with  myrrh,  frankfn- 
ccnfc,  and  aloes  ? 

8.  Doth  my  fair  one  delight  in  palaces — doth  {he 

gladden  the  hearts  of  kings?  The  palaces 
are  not  a  meet  refidence  for  my  beloved— 
The  princes  of  the  earth  are  not  favoured 
•with  the  frniles  of  her  countenance. 

9.  My  fair  one  is  meek  and  humble,  fhe  dwel'sth 

among  the  cottages,  fhe  tendeth  the  fheep 
upon  the  mountains,  and  licth  down  amidft 
the  flocks.  The  lilies  of  the  field  are  her 
couch,  and  the  heavens  her  canopy. 
XO.  Her  words  are  fmoother  than  oil,  more  power 
ful  than  wine ;  her  voice  is  as  the  voice  of  the 
turtle-dove. 

II.  Thou  crowned  the  innocence  of  the  hufband- 

man,  and  the  reward  of  virtue  is  with  thee. 

"   Time  and  Glance  b-ppenetb  to  tbrm  all." 

Ecclefiaft.  ch.  ix.  vcr.li. 

REABEK,  if  fond  of  wonder  and  furprifc, 
Behold  in  me  ten  thoufand  wonders  rife. 


Should  I  appear  quite  partial  to  my  caufc, 
Shout  my  own  praife,  and  vindicate  applaufe ; 
Do  not  arraign  my  modefty  or  fenfe, 
Nor  deem  my  character  a  vain  pretence. 

Know  then  I  boaft  an  origin  and  date 
Coeval  w  ith  the  fun—without  a  mate 
An  offspring  I  beget  in  number  more 
Than  ail  the  crowded  fands  which  form  the  fhore. 
That  inflant  they  are  born,  my  precious  breed 
Ah  me  !  expire — yet  my  departed  feed 
Enter  like  fpe&res,  with  commiflion'd  power, 
The  il-cret  chamber  at  the  midnight  hour ; 
Pervade  alike  the  palace  and  the  flied, 
The  ftiitefman's  clofet,  and  the  ruftic's  bed ; 
Serene  and  fweet,  like  envoys  from  the  ikies, 
To  all  the  good,  the  virtuous,  and  the  wife; 
.But  to  :},e  vicious  breail  rrmorfe  they  bring, 
And  bite  like  ferpents,  or  like  fcorpions  fling. 

Eeing  and  birth  to  fciences  I  give, 
By  me  they  rife  through  infancy  and  live  : 
By  me  meridian  excellence  difplay, 
And,  like  autumnal  fruits,  by  me  decay. 
When  poets,  and  when  painters  are  no  more. 
And  all  the  feuds  of  rival  wits  are  o'er ; 
"Tis  mine  to  fix  their  merit  and  their  claim, 
I  judge  their  works  to  darknefs  or  to  fame. 

I  am  a  monarch,  whofe  victorious  hands 
No  craft  eludes,  no  regal  power  withftands. 
My  annals  prove  fuch  mighty  conquefts  woi^ 
As  fhame  the  puny  feats  of  Philip's  fon. 
But  though  a  king,  1  feldom  fvvay  alone, 
The  goddefs  Fortune  often  fhares  my  throne. 
The  human  eye  detects  our  blended  rule, 
Here  we  exalt  a  knave,  and  there  a  fool. 
Aik  you  what  powers  our  fovereign  laws  obey? 
Creation  is  our  en:pirc — we  convey 
Sceptres.and  crowns  at  will — as  we  ordain, 
Kings  abdicate  their  thrones,  and  peafants  reign. 

Lovers  to  us  addrefs  the  fervent  prayer; 
'Tis  ours  to  foften  or  fubdue  the  fair : 
We  now  like  angels  fmile,  and  now  deflroy, 
Now  bring,  or  blaft,  the  long-expefted  joy. 
At  our  fair  fhrine  ambitious  churchmen  bowj 
And  crave  the  mitre  to  adorn  the  brow, 


MISCELLANIES. 


Go  to  the  inn1;  of  court— the  learned  drudge 
Implores  our  friendfliip  to  commence  a  judge. 
Go,  and  confult  the  fnns  of  Warwick  Lane; 
They  own  our  favours,  and  adore  our  reign. 
Theirs  is  the  gold,  'tis  true — but  all  men  fee 
Our  claim  is  better  founded  to  the  fee. 

Reader,  thus  fub'unary  worlds  we  guide, 
Thus  o'er  your  natal  planets  we  prefide. 
Kingdoms  and  kings  are  ours — to  us  they  fall, 
We  carve  their  fortunes  and  difpofe  of  all. 
Nor  think  that  kings  alone  engrofs  our  choice, 
The  cobler  fits  arrentive  to  our  voice. 

But  fir.ce  my  colleague  is  a  fickle  flic, 
Abjure  my  colleague,  and  depend  on  met 
Either  fhe  fees  not,  or  with  partial  eyes, 
Either  fhc  grants  amifs,  or  fhe  denies. 
But  I,  who  pity  thofe  that  wear  her  chain, 
Scorn  the  capricious  meafures  of  her  reign  ; 
In  every  gift,  and  every  grace  excr  1, 
And  f.idom  fail  their  hope^,  who  life  fne  well. 
Yet  though  in  me  unnumber'd  trtafurcs  fiiine, 
Superior  to  the  rich  Peruvian  mine  ! 
Though  men  to  my  indulgence  hourly  owe 
The  choict-ft  of  their  comi'wts  hi/re  below : 
(For  mens  beft  tenure,  as  the  world  agree, 
Is  all  a  perquifite  deriv'd  from  we) 
Still  man's  my  foe  !  ungrateful  man,  I  fay, 
Who  meditates  my  murder  every  day. 
What  varions  fcenes  of  death  do  men  prepare  ! 
And  what  aflaflinations  plot  the  fair  ! 
But  know  aiTutedly,  who  treat  me  ill, 
Who  mean  to  rob  me,  or  who  mean  to  kill ; 
V»rho  view  me  with  a  cold  regardlefs  eye, 
And  let  my  favours  pafs  unheeded  by; 
They  fhall  lament  their  folly  when  too  late  J 
So  mourns  the  prodij-;:!  his  lofl  eftate  ! 

While  they  who  with  fuperior  forethought  blcfl, 
Store  all  my  kffons  in  their  faithful  breaft  ; 
(For  where's  the  prelate,  who  can  preach  like  me, 
With  equal  reafoning,  and  perfuafive  plea), 
Who  know  that  I  am  always  on  my  wings,' 
And  never  flay  in  compliment  to  kings; 
Wh6  therefore  watch  me  with  an  eagle's  Cglit, 
Arrefl  my  pinions,  or  attend  my  flight:; 
Or  if  perchance  they  loitcr'd  in  the  race, 
Chide  their  flow  footfteps,  and  improve  their  pace  ; 
Yes,  thcfe  are  wifdom's  forts,  and  when  they  die, 
Their  virtues  fhail  exalt  them  to  the  fky. 

AN  ENIGMA,  INSCRIBED  TO  MISS  P. 

CI.OE,  I  boaft  celefHal  date, 

Ere  time  began  to  roll ; 
So  wide  my  power,  my  fceptre  fpurns 

The  limits  of  the  pole. 

When  from  the  myftic  womb  of  night, 

The  Almighty  cali'd  the  earth; 
I  fmil'd  upc;j  the  infant  world, 

And  grac'd  the  wondrous  birth. 

Through  the  «raft  realms  of  boundlef.  fpace, 

I  traverfe  uncontroll'd; 
And  flarry  orbs  of  proi,!'.c'ft  blaze 

Infcribe  my  name  in  gold. 

There's  not  a  monarch  in  the  north 

But  bends  the  fuppliant  knee; 
The  haughty  fultan  waves  hispowcr; 

,&nd  own*  fuperior  me. 


Eoth  by  the  favag?  and  the  faint 

My  empire  (lands  confeft; 
I  thaw  the  ice  on  Greenland's  ccaft, 

And  fire  the  Scythian's  breaft. 

To  me  the  gay  aerial  tribes 

Their  glittering  plumage  owe ; 
With  all  the  variegated  pride 

That  decks  the  feather'd  beau. 

The  mcaneft  reptiles  of  the  land 

My  bounty  too  partake ; 
I  paint  the  infecVs  trembling  wing, 

And  gild  the  crefted  fnake. 

Survey  the  nations  of  the  deep, 
You'll  there  my  power  behold1; 

My  pencil  drew  the  pearly  fcale, 
And  fin  bedropt  with  gold. 

I  give  the  virgin's  lip  to  glow, 

I  claim  the  crimfon  dye ; 
Mine  is  the  rofe  which  fpreads  the  cheek, 

And  mine  the  brilliant  eye. 

Then  fpeak,  my  fair  ;  for  furely  thoa 

My  name  canfl  befl  defcry  ; 
Mrho  gave  to  thee  with  lavifh  hands 

What  thoufands  I  deny. 

THE  FIRESIDE. 

DEAR  Cloe,  while  the  bufy  crowd, 
The  vain,  the  wealthy,  and  the  proud, 

In  folly's  maze  advance  ; 
Though  lingularity  and  pride 
Be  cali'd  our  choice,  we'll  ftep  afide, 

Nor  join  the  giddy  dance. 

From  thd  gay  world  we'll  oft  retire 
To  our  own  family  and  fire, 

Where  love  our  hours  employs; 
No  noify  neighbour  enters  here, 
No  intermeddling  ftranger  near, 

To  fpoil  our  heartfelt  joys. 

If  folid  iiappinefs  we  prize, 
Within  our  breaft  this  jewel  lies, 

And  they  are  fools  who  roam  ; 
The  world  hath  nothing  to  beftow, 
From  our  own  felves  our  blifs  mult  flow-j 

And  that  dear  hut  our  home. 

Of  reft  was  Noah's  dove  bereft, 
When  with  impatient  wing  flue  left 

That  fafe  retreat,  the  ark; 
Giving  her  vain  excurfions  o'er, 
The  difappointed  bird  once  more 

Explor'd  the  facred  bark. 

Though  fools  fpurn  Hymen's  gentle  powera, 
We,  v^ho  improve  his  golden  hours, 

By  fweet  experience  know, 
That  marriage,  rightly  underftood, 
Gives  to  the  tender  and  the  good, 

A  paradife  below. 

Our  babes  fhall  richeft  comforts  bring ; 
If  tutor'd  right  they'll  prove  a  fpring 

Whence  pleafures  ever  rife  : 
We'll  form  their  minds  with  ftudiousjcare, 
To  all  that's  manly,  good,  and  fair, 

And  train  them  for  the  flciea. 


1*43 


THE   WORKS    OF  COTTON. 


While  they  oar  wifefi.  hours  engage, 
They'll  joy  our  youth,  fupport  our  age, 

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

And  recompenfe  our  cares. 

N»  borrow'd  joys  f  they're  all  our  own, 
While  to  the  world  we  live  unknown, 

Or  by  the  world  forgot : 
Monarchal  we  envy  not  your  ftate, 
We  look  with  pity  on  the  great, 

And  blefs  our  humble  lot. 

Our  portion  is  not  large,  indeed, 
But  then  how  little  do  we  need, 

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

And  make  that  little  do. 

We'll  therefore  relifh  with  content, 
Whate'cr  feifld  Providence,  has  fent, 

Nor  aim  beyond  our  power ; 
For,  if  our  flock  be  very  fmall, 
'Tis  prudence  to  enj<-.y  it  all, 

Nor  lofe  the  prefent  hour. 

To  be  refign'd  when  ills  betide, 
Patient  when  favours  are  denyM, 

And  pleas' d  wkh  favours  given  ; 
Dear  Cloe,  this  is  wifdom's  part, 
This  is  that  incenfe  of  the  heart, 

Whofe  fragrance  fmells  to  heaven. 

We'll  afk  no  long-protracttd  treat, 
Since  winter-life  is  feidom  fwcet; 

But,  when  our  feafl  is  o'er, 
Grateful  from  table  we'll  arife,  ^ 

Nor  grudge  ourfons,  with  envious  eyes,^ 

The  relics  of  our  (lore. 

Thus  hand  in  hand  through  life  we'll  go ; 
Its  checker'd  paths  of  joy  and  woe 

With  cautious  fleps  we'll  tread  ; 
Qjait  its  vain  fcenes  without  a  tear, 
Without  a  troKblt-,  or  a  fear, 

And  mingle  with  the  dead. 

"While  conference,  like  a  faithful  friend, 
Shall  through  the  gloomy  vale  attend, 

And  cheer  our  dying  breath ; 
Shall,  when  all  other  comforts  ceafe. 
Like  a  kind  angel  whifper  peace, 

And  fmooth  the  bed  of  death. 

TO  SOME  CHILDREN  LISTENING  TO  A 
LARK. 

FEE  the  Lark  prunes  his  active  wings, 
Kifcs  to  heaven,  and  foars,  and  Cng>. 
His  morning  hymns,  his  mid-day  lavs, 
Are  or.o  continued  fong  of  praife. 
He  fpeaks  his  Maker  all  he  can, 
And  ftiames  the  filent  tongue  of  man. 

When  the  declining  orb  of  light 
Reminds  him  of  approaching  night, 
His  warbling  vcfpers  fwell  his  breaft,. 
And  as  he  fings  he  finks  to  reft. 

Shall  birds  inflrudlive  Itffons  teach, 
And  we  be  deaf  tc  what  they  preach  ? 


No,  ye  dear  neftlings  of  my  heart, 
Go,  adl  the  wifer  fongfter's  part. 
Spurn  your  warm  couch  at  early  dawflj 
And  with  your  God  begin  the  morn. 
To  Him  your  grateful  tribute  pay 
'1  hrough  every  period  of  the  day. 
To  Him  your  evening  fongs  direct ; 
His  eye  {hall  watch,  his  arm  protect. 
Though  darknefs  reigns,  He's  with  you  ftill, 
Then  fleep,  my  babes,  and  fear  no  ill. 

TO  A  CHILD  OF  FIVE  YEARS  OLD. 

FAIREST  flower,  all  flowers  excelling, 

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

Are,  my  fair  one,  types  of  thee. 

Mark,  my  Polly,  how  the  rofes 

Emulate  thy  damaflc  cheek  ; 
How  the  bud  its  fweets  difclofes— — 

Buds  thy  opening  bloom  befpeak. 

Lilies  are  by  plain  direction 

Emblems  of  a  double  kind  ; 
Emblems  of  thy  fair  complexion, 

Emblems  of  thy  fairer  mind. 

But,  dear  girl,  both  flowers  and  beauty 

Bloflbm,  fade,  and  die  away ; 
Then  puifue  good  fenfe  and  duty, 

Evergreens!  which  ne'er  decay. 

ON  LORD  COBHAM'S  GARDEN* 

IT  puzzles  much  the  fages'  brains, 

Where  Eden  ftood  of  yore: 
Some  place  it  in  Arabia's  plains, 

Some  fay  it  is  no  more. 

But  Cobham  can  thefe  tales  confute, 

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

That  Paradife  is  Stow. 


TO-MORROW. 
"  Pereunt  et  imputantur." 

TO-MORROW,  didfl  thou  fay ! 

Mcthought  I  heard  Horatio  fay,  To-morrow. 

Go  to — I  will  not  hear  of  it — To-morrow ! 

'Tis  a  fharper,  who  flakes  his  penury 

Againft  thy  plenty — who  takes  thy  ready  cafli, 

And  pays  thee  nought  but  wilhes,  hopes,  and  pro- 

mifes, 

The  currency  of  idiots.     Injurious  bankrupt, 
That  gulls  the  eafy  creditor ! — To-morrow  ! 
It  is  a  period  nowhere  to  he  found 
In  all  the  hoary  regifters  of  time, 
Unlefs  perchance  in  the  fool's  calendar. 
Wifdom  difclaims  the  word,  nor  holds  fociety 
With  thofe  who  own  it.     No,  my  Horatio, 
'Tis  Fancy's  child,  and  Folly  is  its  father ; 
Wrought  of  fuch  fluff  as  dreams  are ;  and  bafelefi 
As  the  faniafUcvifions  of  the  evening. 

*  jHludifg  ta  Milton  i  defcriftvin  ffMvtf  hvuer*  ' 


MISCELLANIES. 

But  foft,  my  friend— — arreft  the  prefent  mo 
ments  ; 

For  be  affui'd,  they  all  are  arrant  tell-tales; 

And  though  their  flight  be  dent,  and  their  path 
tracklefs 

As  the  wing'd  couriers  of  the  air, 

They  poft  to  heaven,  and  there  record  thy  folly. 

Becaufe,  though  flation'd  on  the  important  watch, 

Thou,  like  a  fleeping,  faithlefs  fentinel, 

Didft  let  them  pafs  unnotic'd,  unimprov'd. 

And  know,  for  that  thou  flumber'dll  on  the  guard, 

Thou  (halt  be  made  to  anfwer  at  the  bar 

For  every  fugitive  :  and  when  thou  thus 

Shalt  (land  impleaded  at  the  high  tribunal 

Of  hood-winkt  juftice,  who  (hall  tell  thy  audit  ? 
Then  Hay  the  prefent  inftant,  dear  Horatio ; 

Imprint  the  marks  of  wifdom  on  its  wings. 

'Tis  of  more  worth  than  kingdoms !  far  more  pre 
cious 

Than  all  the  crimfon  treafures  of  life's  fountain ! — 

Oh  !  let  it  not  elude  thy  grafp,  but,  like 

The  good  old  patriarch  upon  record, 

Hold  the  fleet  angel  faft  until  he  blefs  thee. 

AN  ALLUSION  TO  HORACE,   ODE  XVI. 
BOOK  II. 


INSCRIBED  TO  H.  W.  ESCi_. 

"  Otium  divos  rogat  in  patenti 
"  Prenfus  JEgxo,  finiul  atra  nubes 
"  Condidit  lunam,  neque  certa  fulgent 

"  Sidera  nautis,"  &c. 

SAT,  heavenly  Quiet,  propitious  nymph  of  light, 
"Why  art  thou  thus  conceal'd  from  human  fight  ? 
Tir'd  of  life's  follies,  fain  I'd  gain  thy  arms, 
Oh  !  take  me  panting  to  thy  peaceful  charms; 
Sooth  my  wild  foul,  in  thy  foft  fetters  caught, 
And  calm  the  furges  of  tumultuous  thought. 

Thee,  goddefs,  thee  all  ftates  of  life  implore, 
The  merchant  feeks  thee  on  the  foreign  (hore : 
Through  frozen  zones  and  burning  ifles  he  flies, 
And  tempts  the  various  horrors  of  the  fkies. 
Nor  frozen  zones,  nor  burning  ifles  controul    . 
That  third  of  gain,  that  fever  of  the  foul. 
But  mark  the  change — impending  ftorms  affright, 
Array'd  in  all  the  majefly  of  night — 
The  raging  winds,  difcharg'd  their  myftic  caves, 
Roar  the  dire  fignal  to  th'  infulting  waves. 
The  foaming  legions  charge  the  ribs  of  oak, 
And  the  pale  fiend  prefents  at  every  flroke. 
To  thee  the  unhappy  wretch  in  pale  defpair 
Bends  the  weak  knee,  and  lifts  the  hand  in  prayer; 
Views  the  fad  cheat,  and  fwears  he'll  ne'er  again"! 
Range  the  hot  clime,  or  truft  the  faithlefs  main,  f 
Or  own  fo  mean  a  thought,  that  thou  art  brib'd  t" 
by  gain.  J 

To  thee  the  harnefs'd  chief  devotes  his  breath, 
And  braves  the  thoufand  avenues  of  death ; 
Now  red  with  fury  feeks  th'  embattled  plain, 
Wades  floods  of  gore,  and  fcales  the  hills  of  flain ; 
Now  on  the  fort  with  winged  vengeance  falls, 
And  tempts  the  fevenfold  thunders  of  the  walls. 
Miftaken  man  !  the  nymph  of  peace  difdains 
The  roar  of  cannons,  and  the  fmoke  of  plains : 
With  milder  incenfc  let  thy  altars  blaze, 
And  in  a  fofter  note  attempt  her  praife. 
What  various  herds  attend  the  virgin's  gate, 
Abje&  in  wealth,  and  impotent  iu  ftate  1 


A  crowd  of  offerings  on  the  altar  He, 

And  idly  drive  to  tempt  her  from  the  (ky : 

But  here  the  rich  magnificence  of  kings 

Are  fpecious  trifles  all,  and  all  unheeded  things. 

No  outward  (how  celeftial  bofoms  warms, 

The  gaudy  purple  boafts  inglorious  charms; 

The  gold  here,  confcious  of  its  abject  birth. 

Only  premmes  to  be  fuperior  earth. 

In  vain  the  gem  its  fparkling  tribute  pays, 

And  meanly  tremulates  in  borrow'd  rays. 

On  thefe  the  njmph  with  fcornful  fmilcs  looks 

down, 

Nor  e'er  elects  the  favourite  of  a  crown. 
Supremely  great,  (he  views  us  from  afar, 
Nor  deigns  to  own  a  fultan  or  a  czar. 
Did  real  hapninefs  attend  on  ftate, 
How  would  I  pant  and  labour  to  he  great ! 
To  court  I'd  haiten  with  impetuous  fpeed; 
But  to  be  great's  to  be  a  wretch  indeed. 

I  (peak  of  facred  truths ;  believe  me,  Hugh» 
The  real  wants  of  nature  are  but  few. 
Poor  are  the  charms  of  gold — a  generous  heart 
Would  blu(h  to  own  a  bill's,  that  thefe  impart. 
'Tis  he  alone  the  mufe  dares  happy  call, 
Who  with  fuperior  thought  enjoys  his  little  all. 
Within  his  bread  no  frantic  pallions  roll,' 
Soft  are  the  motions  of  the  virtuous  foul. 
The  night  in  (iikc-n  llumbers  glides  away. 
And  a  Tweet  calm  leads  in  the  fmiling  day, 

What  antic  notions  form  the  human  mind  ! 
Perverfely  mad,  and  obftinately  blind. 
Life  in  its  large  extent  is  icarce  a  ("pan, 
Yet,  wondrous  frenzy  !  great  deligns  we  plan, 
And  (hoot  our  thoughts  beyond  the  date  of  man 

Man,  that  vain  creature's  but  a  wretched  elf, 
And  lives  at  conftant  enmity  with  felf ; 
Swears  to  a  foutheni  climate  he'll  repair, 
But  who  can  change  the  mind  by  changing  air? 
Italia's  plains  may  purify  the  blood. 
And  with  a  nobler  purple  paint  the  flood  ; 
But  can  foft  zephyrs  aid  th'  ill-(hapen  thigh, 
Or  form  to  beauty,  the  diftorted  eye  ? 
Can  they  with  life  inform  the  thoughtlefs  clay  ? 
Then  a  kind  gale  might  waft  my  tares  away. 
Where  roves  the  uiufe  ?— 'tis  all  a  dreatu,  my 

friend, 

All  a  wild  thought — for  Care,  that  ghaftly  fiend,, 
That  mighty  prince  of  the  infernal  powers, 
Haunts  the  (till  watches  of  the  midnight  hours. 
In  vain  the  man  the  night's  protection  fought, 
Care  dings  like  pois'nous  afps  to  fury  wrought, 
And  wakes  the  mind  to  all  the  pains  of  thought. 
Not  the  wing'd  (hip,  that  fweeps  the  level  main, 
Not  the  young  roe  that  bounds  along  the  plain, 
Are  fwift  as  Care— that  monfter  leaves  behind 
The  aerial  courfer  and  the  fleeter  wind  ; 
Through  every  clime  performs  a  conftant  part, 
And  fheathes  its  painful  daggers  in  the  heart. 

Ah  !  why  fhould  man  an  idle  game  purfue, 
To  future  May-be's  ftretch  the  diftant  view  ? 
May  more  exalted  thoughts  our  hours  employ, 
And  wifely  ftrive  to  tatte  the  prefent  joy. 
Life's  an  inconftant  fea— the  prudent  ply 
With  every  oar  to  improve  th'  aufpicious  (ky : 
But  if  black  clouds  the  angry  heav'ns  deform, 
A  cheerful  mind  will  fweeten.  every  dorm, 
4CHJ 


114* 


THE   WORKS    OF   COTTON. 


Though  fools  expeift  their  joys  to  flow  fincere, 
Yet  none  can  boaft  eternal  i'unfhine  here. 

The  youthful  chief,  that  like  a  Cummer  flower 
Shines  a  whole  life  in  one  precarious  hour, 
Impatient  of  reftrair.t  demands  the  fight, 
"While  painted  triumphs  fwim  before  his  fight. 
Forbear,  brave  youth,  thy  bold  defigns  give  o'er, 
Ere  the  next  mom  fhall  dawn,  thou'lt  be  no  more; 
Invidious  death  (hall  blaft  thy  opening  bloom, 
Scarce  blown,  thou  fad'lt,  fcarce  born,  thou  meet'ft 

a  tomb. 
What  though,  my  friend,  the  young  are  fwept 

away. 

Untimely  cropt  in  the  proud  blaze  of  day  ; 
Yet  when  life's  fpring  on  purple  wings  is  flown, 
And  the  brilk  flood  a  noifome  puddle  grown  ; 
When  the  dark  eye  ihalj  roll  its  orb  for  light, 
And  the  roll'd  orb  confefs  impervious  night ; 
When  once  untun'd  the  cat's  contorted  cell, 
The  filver  cords  uabrace  the  founding  fliell ; 
Thy  Cick'ning  foul  no  more  a  joy  fliail  find, 
JMufic  no  more  fliall  ftay  thy  laboring  mind. 
The  breathing  canvas  giows  in  vain  for  thee, 
In  vain  it  blooms  a  gay  eternity. 
With  thee  the  ftatue's  boafts  of  life  are  o'er. 
And  Csefar  animates  the  brafs  no  more. 
The  flaming  ruby,  and  the  rich  brocade, 
The  fprightly  ball,  the  mimic  mafqnerade 
Now  charm  in  vain— in  vain  the  jovial  god 
With  blufliiug  goblets  plies  the  dormant  clod. 

Then  why  thus  fend  to  draw  fuperfluous  breath, 
When  every  gafp  protradb  a  painful  death  ? 
Age  is  a  ghaftly  fcene,  cares,  doubts  and  fears, 
One  dull  rough  road  of  fighs,  groans,  pains  and 

tears. 

Let  not  ambitious  views  ufurp  thy  foul, 
Ambition,  friend,  ambition  grafps  the  pole. 
The  luftful  eye  on  wealth's  bright  ftrand  you  fix, 
And  figh  for  grandeur  and  a  coach  and  fix ; 
With  golden  ftars  you  long  to  blend  your  fate, 
And  with  the  garter'd  lordling  flide  in  ftate. 
An  humbler  theme  my  penfive  hours  employs, 
(Hear  ye  fweet  heavens,  and  fpeed  the diftant  joys! 
Of  thefe  poflefs'd  I'd  fcorn  to  cour>  renown, 
Or  blefs  the  happy  coxcombs  of  the  town.) 
To  me,  ye  gods,  thefe  only  gifts  impart, 
An  eafy  fortune,  and  a  cheerful  heart ; 
A  little  mufe,  and  innocently  gay, 
In  fportive  fong  to  trifle  cares  away. 
Two  wifties  gain'd,  love  forms  the  laft  and  beft. 
And  heaven's  bright  mafter-piece  ihall  crown  the 
reft. 

REBUS. 

THAT  awful  name  which  oft  infpires 
Impatient  hopes,  and  fond  defires, 
Can  to  another  pain  impart, 
And  thrill  with  fear  the  fhudd'ring  heart. 
This  myftic  word  is  often  read 
O'er  the  ftill  chambers  of  the  dead. 
Say,  what  contains  the  breathlefs  clay; 
When  the  fleet  foul  is  wing'd  away  ?— 
Thofe  marble  monuments  proclaim 
Mf  little  wily  wanton's  name. 
TOMBS. 


ANOTHER. 

THE  golden  ftem,  with  generous  aid, 
Supports  and  feeds  the  fruitful  blade. 
The  queen,  who  rJi'd  a  thanhlefs  ifle, 
And  gludden'd  tlioufands  with  her  fmile 
(When  the  well-manag'd  pound  of  gold 
Did  more,  than  now  the  fum  twice  told)  ; 
This  fteui  of  Ceres,  and  the  fair 
Of  Stuart's  houic,  a  name  declare, 
Where  gootlnefs  is  with  beauty  join'd, 
Where  queen  and  goddefs  both  cooibin'd 
To  foim  an  emblem  of  the  miud. 

ANOTHER. 

THE  light-footed  female  that  bounds  or  the  hillsj 
That  reeds  among  lilies,  and  drinks  of  the  jilis, 

And  is  fatn'd  for  being  tender  and  true; 
Which  Solomon  deemed  a  fimile  rare, 
To  liken  the  two  pretty  brealts  cf  his  fair, 

Is  the  name  of  the  nymph  I  purfue. 
ROE. 

ANOTHER. 

TELL  me  the  fair,  if  fuch  a  fair  there  be, 
Said  Venus  to  her  fon,  that  rivals  me. 
Mark  the  tall  tree,  cried  Cupid  to  the  Dame, 
That  from  its  filver  bark  derives  its  name  ; 
The  ftudious  infect,  that,  with  wondrous  pow'r?, 
Extracts  myfterious  fweets  from  fragrant  flow'rs; 
Proclaim  the  nymph  to  whom  all  hearts  fubmit, 
VVhofe  fweetnefs  foftens  majetty  and  wit. 
ASHBY. 

ANOTHER. 

THE  name  of  the  monarch  that  abandon'd  his 

throne, 
Is  the  name  of  the  fair,  I  prefer  to  his  crown. 

JAMES. 

SOME  HASTY  RHYMES  ON  SLEEP. 

MYSTERIOUS  deity,  impart 

From  whence  thou  com'it,  and  vyhat  thou  art. 

I  feel  thy  pow'r,  thy  reign  I  blefs, 

But  what  I  feel,  I  can't  exprefs. 

Thou  bind'ft  my  limbs,  but  canftn't  reftrain 

The  bufy  workings  of  the  brain. 

All  nations  of  ihe  air  and  land 
Afk  the  foft  blcfling  at  thy  hand/ 
The  reptiles  of  the  frozen  zone 
Are  clofe  attendants  on  thy  throne  ; 
Where  painted  bafilifks  enfold 
Their  azure  fcales  in  rolls  of  gold. 

The  flave,  that's  deftin'd  to  the  oar, 
In  one  kind  vifion  fwims  to  fhore  j 
The  lover  meets  the  willing  fair, 
And  fondly  grafps  iropafiive  air. 
Laft  night  the  happy  mifer  told 
Twice  twenty  t^noufand  pounds  in  gold. 

The  purple  tenant  of  the  crown 
Implores  thy  aid  on  beds  of  clown  : 
While  Lubbtn,.  and  his  healthy  bride, 
Obtain  what  monarchs  are  denied. 

The  garter'd  ftatefman  thou  wouldft  o\T$, 
But  rebel  conference  fpurns  thy  throne  ; 


MISCELLANIES. 


Bravts  all  t^e  poppies  of  the  fie'dv 

And  the  fam'd  gum  *  that  Turkey  yields. 

Wlrle  the  gix-4  man.  opprefs'.i  w:h  p.  in, 
Shall  in  ilies,  nor  iue  in  vain. 

Propitious  ; hc?u\t  i.is  prayer  attend, 
And  <fir  >ve  hi1  pu:;rdi;m  aivl  his  friend. 
Thy  taithliii  h-:  <!s  fliail  make  his  bed, 
And  thy  foft  arm  fupport  his  head. 

A  SONG. 

TELL  me,  my  Cgelia,  why  fo  coy, 

Of  men  fo  much  afraid  ; 
Cselia,  'tis  better  for  to  die 

A  mother  than  a  maid. 

The  rofe,  when  paft  its  damafk  hue, 

Is  always  nut  of  favour; 
And  when  the  plum  hath  loft  its  blue, 

It  lofes  too  its  flavour. 

To  vernal  flow'rs  the  rolling  years 

Returning  beauty  bring  ; 
But  faded  once,  thou'lt  bloom  no  more, 

Nor  know  a  fecond  fpring. 

A  SUNDAY  HYMN, 

IN  IMITATION  OF  DR.  WATT'S. 

THIS  is  the  day  ihe  Lord  of  life 

Attended  to  the  ikies ; 
My  thoughts,  purfue  the  lofty  theme, 

And  to  the  beav'n  arife. 

Let  no  vain  cares  divert  my  mind 

From  this  celeftial  road; 
Nor  all  the  honours  of  the  earth 

Detain  my  foul  from  God. 

Think  of  the  fphndors  of  that  plase, 

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

Wuh  worlds  beneath  the  fty. 

Heav'n  is  the  birth-place  of  the  feints. 

To  heav'n  their  fouls  afcend  ; 
Th'  Almighty  owns  his  favourite  race, 

As  father  and  as  friend. 

Oh  !  may  thefe  lovely  titles  prove 

My  comfort  and  defence, 
When  the  iick  couch  fliall  be  my  lot, 

And  death  lhall  call  me  hence. 

AN  ODE  ON  THE  MESSIAH. 
WHEN  man  had  difobey'd  his  Lord, 
Vindictive  Juftice  drew  the  fword  ; 
«'  The  rebel  and  his  race  fliall  die." 
Jle  fpake,  and  thunders  burft  the  Iky. 

Lo  I  Jefus  pard'ning  grace  difplays; 
Nor  thunders  roll,  nor  lightnings  blaze. 
Jefus,  the  Saviour  ftands  confeft, 
In  rays  of  mildeft  glories  dreft. 

As  round  Hhn  prcfs  th'  angelic  crowd, 
Mercy  and  truth  he  calls  aloud  ; 

*  Or  raibtr  inffijatedjuife,  Of  ju 


.  he  fmilin-f  cherubs  wing'd  to  view, 
I  heir  pinions  founded  as  they  flew. 

*'  Ye  favourites  of  the  throne,  arife, 

''   Bear  the  ftrange  tidings  through  the  flues  ; 

''  Say,  man,  th'  apoftate  rebel,  lives; 

"  Say,  Jefus  bleeds,  and  Heav'u  forgives." 

In  pity  to  the  fallen  race, 
I'll  take  their  nature  and  their  place; 
I'll  bk-ed,  their  pardon  to  procure, 
I'll  die,  to  make  that  pardon  fure. 

Now  Jefus  leaves  his  blcft  abode, 
A  virgin's  womh  receires  the  God. 
When  the  tenth  moon  had  wan'd  on  earth, 
A  virgin's  womb  difclos'd  the  birth. 

New  priifc  employs  th*  ethcrial  throng, 
Their  golden  harps  jx-peat  the  fang  ; 
And  angels  waft  th'  immortal  drains 
To  humble  Bethi'em's  happy  plains. 

WThile  there  the  guardians  of  the  deep 
By  night  their  faithful  vigils  keep, 
Celeft;al  notes  their  ears  delight, 
Ar.ci  floods  of  glory  drown  their  fight. 

When  Gabriel  thus,  "  Exult,  ye  fvvains, 
"  Jefus,  your  own  Mcffiah,  reigns. 
"  Arife,  the  Royal  Babe  behold, 
"  Jefus,  by  ancient  bards  foretold. 

''  To  David's  town  dire*!  your  way, 
''  And  (hout,  Salvation's  born  to-day  ; 
"  There,  in  a  manger's  mean  difguife, 
"  You'll  find  the  Sovereign  of  the  ikies." 

What  joy  Salvation's  found  imparts, 
You  belt  can  tell,  je  guilelefs  hearts; 
Whom  no  vain  fcience  led  aftray, 
Nor  taught  to  fcorn  Salvation's  way. 

Though  regal  purple  fpurns  thefe  truths, 
Maintain  your  ground  ye  chofen  youths; 
Brave  the  ftern  tyrant's  lifted  rod, 
Nor  bluih  to  owe  a  dying  God. 

What !  though  the  fages  of  the  earth 
Proudly  difpute  this  wondrous  birth  ; 
Though  learning  mocks  Salvation's  voice, 
Know,  Heav'n  applauds  your  wifer  choice. 

Oh  !  be  this  wifer  choice  my  own  ! 
Bear  me,  fome  feraph  to  hivthrone, 
Where  the  rapt  foul  diflolves  away 
In  vifions  of  eternal  day. 

AN  ODE  ON  THE  NEW  YEAR. 

LORD  of  my  life,  infpire  my  fong, 
To  thee  roy  nobleft  powers  belong ; 
Grant  me  thy  favourite  feraph's  flame, 
To  fing  the  glories  of  thy  name. 

My  birth,  my  fortune,  friends,  and  health. 
My  knowledge  too,  fuperior  wealth  ! 
Lord  of  my  life,  to  thee  I  owe  ; 
Teach  me  to  pradlife  what  I  know. 

Ten  thoufand  favours  claim  my  fong, 
A»d  each  deoswds  an  angel's  tongue  ; 
^Ctiij 


THE   WORKS   OF  COTTON. 


M<=rcy  fits  ftniling  on  the  wings, 
Of  every  moment  as  it  fprings. 

But  oh  !  with  infinite  furprife 

I  fee  returning  years  arife  ; 

"When  unimpruv'd  the  former  fcore, 

Lord,  wilt  thou  truft  me  ftill  with  more ! 

Thonfands  this  period  hop'd  to  fee; 
Deny'd  to  thoufands,  granted  me  ; 
Thoufands  !  that  weep,  and  wifh,  and  pray 
For  thofe  rich  hours  I  throw  away. 

The  tribute  of  my  heart  receive, 
Tis  ihe  poor  all  I  have  to  give  ; 
Should  it  prove  faithlefs,  Lord,  I'd  wreft 
The  bleeding  traitor  from  my  breaft. 

ADDRESSED  TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 

Wbofe  favourite  Bird  tuas  almojl  killed  by  a  fall 
from  ler  Finger. 

As  Tiney,  in  a  wanton  mood, 
Upon  his  Lucy's  finger  flood, 

Ambitious  to  be  free ; 
With  breaft  elate,  he  eager  tries, 
By  flight  to  reach  the  diftant  ikies, 

And  gain  his  liberty. 

1  Ah  !  luckkfs  bird,  what  though  carefs'd, 
And  fondled  in  the  fair  one's  breaft, 

Taught  e'en  by  her  to  fing  ; 

Know  that  to  check,  thy  temper  wild, 

And  make  thy  manners  foft  and  mild, 

Thy  miftrefs  cut  thy  wing. 

The  feather' d  tribe,  who  cleave  the  air, 
Their  weights  by  equal  plumage  bear, 

And  quick  efcape  our  pow'r ; 
Not  fo  with  Tiney,  dear  delight, 
His  fhorten'd  wing  reprefs'd  his  flight, 

And  threw  him  on  the  floor. 

Stunn'd  with  the  fall,  he  feem'd  to  die, 
For  quickly  clos'd  his  fparkling  eye, 

Scarce  heav'd  his  pretty  breaft ; 
Alarmed  for  her  favourite  care, 
Lucy  affumes  a  penfive  air, 

Ajid  is  at  heart  diftreft. 

The  ftoic  foul,  in  graveft  drain, 
May  call  thefe  feelings  light  and  vain, 

Which  thus  from  fondnefs  flow : 
Yet,  if  the  bard  arightly  deems, 
'Tis  nature's  fount  which  feeds  the  ftreams 

That  pureft  joys  beftow. 

So,  fhou'd  it  be  fair  Lucy's  fate, 
Whene'er  fhe  wills  a  change  of ftate, 

To  boaft  a  mother's  name  ; 
Thefe  feelings  then,  thou  charming  maid, 
In  brighteft  lines  fhall  be  difplay'd, 

And  praife  uncenfur'd  claim. 

RIDDLE. 

FROM  the  dark  caverns  of  the  earth 
Our  family  derive  their  birth  ; 
By  nature  we  appear  to  view 
A  rugged  and  a  ftubborn  crew. 


But  Vulcan's  brawny  Tons,  by  art, 
Soften  the  hardncfs  of  our  heart ; 
Give  to  a  (lender  fhape  its  grace, 
And  a  bright  polifh  to  our  face. 
Thus  education  makes  us  mild, 
Pliant  and  dudtile  as  a  child. 

Survey  the  attire  of  man,  you'll  trace 
Our  friendfhip  for  the  human  race. 
We  love  mankind,  indeed  we  do, 
Our  actions  prove  our  fpeeches  true. 
But  what  is  wondrous  ftrange  to  name, 
The  aged  female  is  our  flame. 
When  ftrength  decays,  and  optics  fail, 
And  cold  and  penury  prevail, 
Our  labours  fpare  the  matron's  fight, 
We  aflc  but  faint  fupplies  of  light. 
Kindly,  our  ancient  girls  regale, 
With  food,  with  fuel,  and  with.  ale. 
We,  as  affociates  to  mankind, 
All  adt  our  various  parts  aflign'd. 
No  ufelefs  hands  obftruft  our  fchemes, 
We  fuit  our  numbers  to  our  themes ; 
Hence  only  two  of  us  apply, 
To  form  a  bandage  for  the  thigh ; 
But  when  the  gray  induflrious  Peg 
Demands  a  veftment  for  the  leg, 
'Tis  then  in  little  crowds  we  join, 
To  aid  the  matron's  wife  defign. 
Thus  four  or  five  of  us  you'll  fee, 
And  each  as  bufy  as  a  bee ; 
Ecfides  a  kind  afliftant  near, 
Which  Peg  had  ftuck  athwart  her  ear. 

Now  laffes,  if  our  name  you'll  tell, 
And  vow  you'll  always  ufe  us  well, 
We'll  grant  your  wifh  to  change  your  life, 
And  make  each  fair  a  happy  wife. 

KNITTING  NEEfcLE. 

ANOTHER. 

To  yon,  fair  maidens,  I  addrefs, 

Sent  to  adorn  your  life  ; 
And  fhe  who  firft  my  name  can  guefs, 

Shall  firft  be  made  a  wife. 

From  the  dark  womb  of  mother  earth, 

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

1  many  fhapes  affume. 

Paffive  by  nature,  yet  I'm  made 

As  active  as  the  roe ; 
And  oftentimes,  with  equal  fpeed, 

Through  flowery  lawns  I  go. 

When  wicked  men  their  wealth  confume, 
And  leave  their  children  poor, 

To  me  their  daughters  often  come, 
And  I  increafe  their  ftore. 

The  women  of  the  wifer  kind, 

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

That  maids  of  honour  ufe  me. 

The  lily  hand  and  brilliant  eye-, 
May  charm  without  my  aid ; 

I"  Beauty  may  ftrike  the  lover's  eye 
And  love  infpire,  the  maid. 


MISCELLANIES. 


But  let  tte  enchanting:  nytnpth  be  told, 

Unlefs  I  grace  her  life, 
She  muft  have  wondrous  ftore  of  gold, 

Or  make  a  wretched  wife. 

Although  I  never  hope  to  reft, 
With  Chriftians  I  go  forth  ; 

And  while  they  worfhip  to  the  eaft, 
I  proftrate  to  the  north. 

If  you  fufpect  hypocrify, 

Or  think  me  infincere, 
Produce  the  zealot,  who,  like  me, 

Can  tremble  and  adhere. 


ANOTHER. 

1  AM  by  nature  foft  as  filk, 
By  nature  too  as  white  as  milk ; 
1  am  a  conftant  friend  to  man, 
And  ferve  him  every  way  I  can. 
When  dipt  in  wax,  or  plung'd  in  oil, 
I  make  his  winter  evenings  fmile : 
By  India  taught  I  fpread  his  bed, 
Or  deck  his  favourite  Cclia's  head  ; 
Her  gayefl  garbs  I  oft  compofe, 
And  ah !  fometimes,  I  wipe  her  nofe. 

COTTON.  v 

ANOTHER. 

I  AM  a  fmall  volume,  and  frequently  bound 

In  filk,  fattin,  filver,  or  gold ; 
My  werth  and  my  praifes  the  females  refound, 

By  females  my  fcience  is  told. 

My  leaves  are  all  fcarlet,  my  letters  are  fteel, 
Each  letter  contains  a  great  treafure  ; 

To  the  poor  they  fpell  lodging,  fuel,  and  meal, 
To  the  rich  entertainment  and  pleafure. 

The  fempflrefs  explores  me  by  day  and  by  night, 
Not  a  page  but  fhe  turns  o'er  and  o'er ; 

Though  fometimes  I  injure  the  milliner's  fight, 
Still  I  add  to  her  credit  and  ftore. 

'Tis  true  I  am  feldom  regarded  by  men, 
Yet  what  would  the  males  do  without  me  ? 

Let  them  boaft  of  their  head,  orboaft  of  their  pen, 
Still  vain  is  their  boaft,  if  they  flout  me. 

N£EDLE  BOOK. 

PSALM  XIII. 

OFFENDED  Majefty!  how  long 

Wilt  thou  conceal  thy  face  ? 
How  long  refufe  my  fainting  foul 

The  fuccours  of  thy  grace  ? 

While  forrow  wrings  my  bleeding  heart, 

And  black  defpondence  reigns, 
Satan  exults  at  my  complaints, 

And  triumphs  o'er  my  pains. 

Let  thy  returning  fpirit,  Lord, 

Difpel  the  (hades  of  night ; 
Smile  on  my  poor  deferted  foul, 

My  God,  thy  fmiles  are  light. 

While  fcoffers  at  thy  facred  word 
Deride  the  pangs  I  fee!, 


Deem  my  religion  infincere, 
Or  call  it  ufelefs  zeal. 

Yet  will  I  ne'er  repent  my  choice, 
I'll  ne'er  withdraw  my  truft; 

I  know  thee,  Lord,  a  pow'rful  friend, 
And  kind,  and  wife,  and  juft. 

To  doubt  thy  goodnefs  wou'd  be  bale 

Ingratitude  in  me ; 
Paft  favours  fhall  renew  my  hopes, 

And  fix  my  faith  in  thee. 

Indulgent  God  !  my  willing  tongue 

Thy  praifes  fhall  prolong ; 
For  oh  !  thy  bounty  fires  my  breaft, 

And  rapture  fwells  my  fong. 

PSALM  XLfl. 

WITH  fierce  defire  the  hunted  hart 
Explores  the  cooling  ftream ; 

Mine  is  a  pafiion  ftronger  far, 
And  mine  a  nobler  theme. 

Yes,  with  fuperior  Fervors,  Lord, 

1  third  to  fee  thy  face ; 
My  languid  foul  would  fain  approach 

The  fountains  of  thy  grace. 

Oh  !  the  great  plenty  of  thy  houfe, 
The  rich  refreshments  there  ! 

To  live  an  exile  from  thy  courts, 
O'erwhelms  me  with  dcfpair. 

In  worfhip  when  I  join'dthy  faints, 
How  fweetly  pafs'd  my  days  ! 

Prayer  my  divine  employment  then, 
And  all  my  pltafure  praife. 

But  now  I'm  loft  to  every  joy, 
Becaufe  detain'd  from  thee; 

Thofe  golden  periods  ne'er  return, 
Or  ne'er  return  to  me. 

Yet,  O  my  foul,  why  thus  depreft, 
And  whence  this  anxious  fear  ? 

Let  former  favours  fix  thy  truft, 
And  check  the  rifing  tear. 

When  darknefs  and  when  forrows  rofc, 

And  prefs'd  on  every  fide, 
Did  not  the  Lord  fuftain  thy  fteps, 

And  was  not  God  thy  guide  ? 

Affliction  is  a  ftormy  deep, 

Where  wave  refounds  to  wave ; 

Though  o'er  my  head  the  billows  roll, 
I  know  the  Lord  can  lave. 

Perhaps,  before  the  morning  dawns. 

He'll  reinftate  my  peace ; 
For  he,  who  bade  the  tempeft  roar, 

Can  bid  the  tempeft  ceaie. 

In  the  dark  watches  of  the  night 

I'll  count  his  mercies  o'er; 
I'll  praife  him  for  ten  thouland  paft 

And  humbly  fue  for  more. 

Then,  O  my  foul,  why  thus  deprefr, 
And  whence  this  anxious  fear  ? 

Let  former  favours  lix  thy  truft, 
And  check  the  rifing  tear, 


I  -.46 

Here  will  I  reft,  and  build  my  hopes, 

Nor  murmur  at  his  rod; 
He's  more  than  all  the  world  to  me, 

My  health,  my  life,  my  God! 

THE  NIGHT  PIECE. 

HARK!  the  prophetic  raven  brings 
My  fummons  on  his  boding  wings ; 
The  birds  of  night  my  fate  foretel, 
The  prefcient  death-watch  founds  my  knell. 

A  folemn  darknefs  fpreads  the  tomb, 
But  terrors  haunt  the  midnight  gloom ; 
Methinks  a  browner  horror  falls, 
And  lllent  fpedlres  fweep  the  walls. 

Tell  me.  my  foul,  oh  tell  me  why 
The  faultcring  tongue,  the  broken  figh  ? 
Thy  manly  cheeks  bedew'd  with  tears, 
Tell  me,  my  foul,  from  whence  thefe  fears? 

When  confcious  guilt  arrefts  the  mind, 
Avenging  furies  ftalk  behind, 
And  fickly  fancy  intervenes, 
To  drefs  the  vifionary  fcenes. 

Jefus,  to  thee  I'll  fly  fpr  aid, 
Propitious  Sun,  difpel  the  {hade; 
All  the  pale  family  of  fear 
Would  vanifh,  were  my  Saviour  here. 

No  more  imagin'd  fpectres  walk, 
No  more  the  doubtful  echoes  talk ; 
Soft  zephyrs  fan  the  neighbouring  trees, 
And  meditation  mounts  the  breeze. 

How  fweet  thefe  facred  hours  of  reft, 
Fair  portraits  of  the  virtuous  breaft, 
Where  lawlefs  luft,  and  paffions  rude, 
And  folly  never  dare  intrude ! 

Be  others'  choice  the  fparkling  bowl, 
And  mirth,  the  poifon  of  the  foul; 
Or  midnight  di,nce,  and  public  fhows, 
Parents  of  ficknefs,  pains,  and  woes. 

A  nobler  joy  my  thoughts  defign ; 
Inflrudtive  folitude  be  mine; 
Be  mine  that  filent  calm  repair, 
A  cheerful  confcience  to  the  laft. 

That  tree  whieh  bears  immortal  fruit, 
Without  a  canker  at  the  root ; 
That  friend  which  never  foils  the  juft, 
"When  other  friends  defert  their  truft. 

Ccme  then,  my  foul,  be  this  thy  gueft, 
And  Jeave  to  knaves  and  fools  the  reft. 
With  this  thou  ever  fhalt  be  gay, 
And  night  mall  brighten  into  day. 

\Vith  this  companion  in  the  fhade, 
Surely  thou  couldft  not  be  difmay'd : 
But  it"  thy  Saviour  here  were  found, 
All  Paradifc  would  bloom  around. 

"  Had  I  a  firm  and  Ming  faith," 
'To  credit  what  the  Almighty  faith, 
I  could  defy  the  midnight  gloom, 
And  the  pale  monarch  of  the  tomb. 

Though  rempefls  drive  me  from  the  (hore, 
And  floods  dcfccnd,  and  billow*  roar; 


THE    WORKS   OF   COTTON. 


Though  death  appears  in  every  form;, 
My  little  bark  Ihould  brave  the  fton«. 

Then  if  my  God  requir'd  the  life 
Of  brother,  parent,  child,  or  wife, 
Lord,  I  Jbould  blefs  the  ftern  decree, 
And  give  my  dcareil  friend  to  thee. 

Aniidfl  the  various  fcenes  of  ills, 
Each  ftroke  ibma  kind  defign  fulfils; 
And  fhall  1  murmur  at  my  God, 
When  fovereign  love  directs  the  rod  ? 

Peace,  rebel-thoughts— I'll  not  complain, 
My  Father's  fmiles  fufpend  my  pain  ; 
Smil:s — that  a  thoufand  joys  impart, 
And  pour  the  balm  that  heals  the  fmart. 

Though  Heaven  afflicts,  I'll  not  repine, 
Each  heart-felt  comfort  ftiil  is  mine  ; 
Comforts  that  fhall  o'er  death  prevail, 
And  journey  with  me  through  the  vale. 

Dear  Jefus,  fmooth  that  rugged  way, 
And  lead  me  to  the  realms  of  day, 
To  milder  flcies,  and  brighter  plains, 
Where  everlafting  funflime  reigns. 

i 

TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY, 

ON  HIS  MEDITATIONS. 

To  form  the  tafte,  and  raife  the  nobler  part. 
To  mend  the  morals,  and  to  warn  rue  heart; 
To  trace  the  genial  fource  we  nature  call. 
And  prove  the  God  of  nature,  friend  of  all ; 
Hervey  for  this  his  mental  landfcape  drew, 
And  iketch'd  the  whole  creation  out  to  view. 

Th'  enameU'd  bloom,  and  variegated  flow'r, 
Whofe  crimfon  changes  with  the  changing  hour; 
The  humble  flirub,  yvhofe  fragrance  fcents  the 

morn, 

With  buds  difclofing  to  the  early  dawn  ; 
The  oaks  that  grace  Britannia's  mountains'  fide, 
And  fpicy  Lebanon's  fuperior  *  pride ; 
All  loudly  fov'reign  excellence  proclaim, 
And  animated  worlds  confefs  the  fame. 

The  azure  fields  that  fornv  th'  extended  fky, 
The  planetary  globes  that  roll  on  high, 
And  Iblar  orbs,  of  provided  blaze,  combine 
To  act  fubfervient  10  the  great  defign. 
Men,  angels,  feraphs,  join  the  gen'ral  v.oice, 
And  in  the  Lord  of  nature  all  rejoice. 

His  the  gray  winter's  venerable  guife, 
Its  fhrouded  glories,  and  inftructive  fkies  f;  [blade; 
His  the  fnow's  plumes,  that  brood  the  fick'ning 
His  the  bright  pendant  that  impearls  the  glade  ; 
The  waving  foreft,  or  the  whifp'ring  brake  ; 
The  furging  billow,  or  the  fleeping  lake. 
The  fame  who  pours  the  beauties  of  the  fpring, 
Or  mounts  the  whirlwind's  defolating  wing  : 
The  fame  who  fmiles  in  Nature's  peaceful  form, 
Frowns  in  the  tempeft,  and  directs  the  ftorm. 

'Tis  thine,  bright  teacher,  to  improve  the  age  ; 
'Tis  thine,  whofe  life's  a  comment  on  thy  page  ; 
Thy  happy  page  !  whofe  periods  fweetly  flow, 
Whofe  figures  charm  us,  and  whofe  colours  glow: 

*  The  Cedar. 

t  Referring  to  the  Winter-Piece, 


"Where  artbf-  pit- ty  pf  rvades  the  whole, 

Refines  the  genius,  and  exalts  the  foul. 

For  let  the  witling  argue  all  he  can, 

It  is  religion  ilill  that  makes  the  man. 

'Tis  this,    tny  friend,  that  ftreaks  our  morning 

bright; 

'Tis  this  that  gilds  the  horrors  of  the  night. 
When  wealth  forfakes  us,  and  when  friends  are, 

few; 

\Vhen  friends  are.  faithlefs,  or  %vhcn  foes  purfue  ; 
'Tis  this  that  wards  the  blow,  or  Hills  the  t'inart, 
Difarms  affliction,  or  repels  its  Jart ; 
\Vithin  the  breaft  bids  pureft  rapture  rife  ; 
Bids  finiling  confcience  fpread  her  cloudlefs  fkies 

When  theftorni  thickens,  a£d  the  thunder  rolls, 
"When  the  earth  trembles  to  the  affrighted  poles, 
The  virtuous  mind  nor  doubts  nor  fears  affiiil ; 
For  florins  are  zephyrs,  or  a  gentler  gale. 

And  when  difeale  obitru&s  the  lab'ring  breath; 
\Vhen  the  heart  fickens,  and  each  pulfe  is  death ; 
E'en  then  religion  ihall  fuftain  the  juft, 
Grace  their  laft  moments,  nor  defett  their  duft. 

AuS  5. 1743. 

LINES 

UNDER  A  SUN-DIAL  IN  THE  CHURCH-TARD  AT 
THORNBY. 


MARK  well  my  fhade,  and  ferioufly  attend 
The  lilent  leflbn  of  a  common  friend — 
Since  time  and  life  fpeed  haftily  away, 
And  neither  ran  recal  the  former  day,1 
Improve  each  fleeting  hour  before  'tis  part, 

now,  each  fleeting  hour  may  be  thy  laft 


MISCELLANIES.  1147 

TO  THE  MEMORY 

OF  THE  REV.  MR.  SAMUEL  CLARK, 

WHO  DIED  DECEMBER  THE   26TH,  AGED  42*. 

IN  al!  the  intercemfes  of  humanity 

He  was  upright,  prudent,  and  courteous, 

Compaltiouate,  kind,  and  beneficent. 

In  opinion 
Candid,  diffident,  and  judicious. 

In  argument 

Calm,  ftrong,  and  perfuafive. 
Under  difficulties  and  forrows 
Collected,  firm,  and  refign'd. 

In  friendlhip 
Faithful,  entertaining,  and  inftru&ive. 

In  his  miniiterial  capacity 

He  poffefTtd  every  valuable  and  happy  talent 

To  redlify  the  judgment,  and  improve  the  heart. 

He  was  learned  without  pride,  % 

And  pious  without  oitenution  ; 

Zealous  and  indefatigable  to  advance  the  intereft 

Of  true  religion, 

And  the  everlafting  welfare  of  thole  who  were  in 
truded 

To  bis  paftoral  care. 

What!  though  ftich  various  worth  is  feldom known, 

No  adulation  rears  thisiacred  (lone, 

No  partial  love  this  genuine  picture  draws, 

No  venal  pencil  proftitutts  applaufe  : 

Juftice  and  truth  in  artlefs  colours  paint 

The  Man,   the  Friend,   the   Preacher,  and  the 

Saint. 

*  Thf  year  is  wanting  hi  tke  original  cofj.\ 


THE 

POETICAL  WORKS 

O  9 

THOMAS  BLACKLOCK,  D.  D. 


Containing 


THE  GRAHAM, 

PANEGYRIC  ON  BRITAIN, 

OSES, 

ELEGIES, 

KtlSTLE.3, 


HYMNS, 

SONGS, 

EPITAPHS, 

PROLOGUES, 

IMITATIONS, 


To  which  is  prefixed, 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


Nature,  when  fcarce  fair  light  he  knew, 
Snatch' d  heav'n,  earth,  beauty  from  his  view, 

And  darknefs  round  him  reigns : 
The  mufe  with  pity  view'd  his  doom, 
And  darting  through  th'  eternal  gloom 

An  intelle£ual  ray, 
Bade  him  with  mufic's  voice  infpire 
The  plaintive  flute,  the  fprightly  lyre, 

And  tune  th'  impaffion'd  lay. 

ODE  TO  A   TODNG  GENTLEMAN,  BOUND  FOR  GUINEA. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  BY  MUNDELL  AND  SON,  ROYAL  BANK  CLOSE. 
Annt  1795. 


THE  LIFE  OF  BLACKLOCK. 


i  HE  Life  of  BLACKLOCK  has  a  claim  to  notice  beyond  that  of  moft  of  the  poets  of  our  nation, 
with  whom  he  is  now  affociated.  He  who  reads  his  poems  with  that  intereft  which  their  intria- 
fic  merit  deferves,  will  feel  that  intereft  very  much  increafcd,  when  he  fhall  be  told  the  various 
difficulties  which  their  author  overcame  in  their  production,  the  obftacles  which  nature  and  for- 
rone  had  placed  in  his  way,  to  the  poffeflion  of  thofe  ideas  which  his  mind  acquired,  to  the  com 
munication  of  thofe  which  his  poetry  unfolds. 

A  fhort  "  Account  of  the  Life  and  Writings"  of  this  extraordinary  man,  was  prefixed  to  the  fecond 
edition  of  his  Peuni,  printed  at  Edinburgh,  in  17.54,  by  his  friend  Mr.  Gilbert  Gordon  of  Dumfries, 
author  of"  Tafte,  an  Epiftle  to  a  Lady,"  in  Donaldfon's  "  Collection  of  Poems,"  1769.  A  more 
elaborate  "  Account  of  his  Life,  Character,  and  Poems,"  was  given  to  the  world  by  Mr.  Spence, 
the  amiable  and  elegant  author  of  the  "  Eflay  on  Pope's  Odyffey,"  "  Polymetis,"  &c.  in  an  8vo 
pamphlet,  publifhed  at  London  in  the  fame  year,  and  afterwards  prefixed  to  the  4to  edition  of 
his  Poems,  which  came  out  by  fubfcription  at  London  in  1 75  6.  Thefe  accounts  having  been  writ 
ten  at  a  period  fo  early  as  to  include  only  the  opening  events  of  his  life,  a  more  full,  accurate  and 
interefting  "  Account  of  his  Life  and  Writings,"  was  prefixed  to  the  4to  edition  ef  his  Poems, 
printed  at  Edinburgh  in  1793,  by  Henry  Mackenzie,  Efq.  author  of  "  The  Prince  of  Tunis," 
11  The  Man  of  Feeling,"  and  other  ingenious  and  elegant  performances. 

The  fads  ftated  in  the  prefent  account,  are  chiefly  taken  from  Mr.  Mackenzie's  narrative,  which 
is  written  with  fuch  copioufnefs  of  intelligence,  as  leaves  little  to  be  fupplied,  and  fuch  felicity  of 
performance,  as  precludes  the  moft  diftant  hope  of  improvement.  Among  the  few  additional  par 
ticulars  detailed  here,  the  prefent  writer  has  endeavoured  to  give  a  complete  account  of  his  writ 
ings,  the  want  of  which  is  the  principal  defect  in  Mr.  Mackenzie's  narrative. 

Thomas  Biacklock  was  born  at  Annan,  in  the  county  of  Dumfries,  Nov.  10. 1721.  His  parent* 
were  natives  of  the  county  of  Cumberland.  His  father  was  by  trade  a  bricklayer,  his  mother  the 
daughter  cf  a  confiderable  dealer  in  cattle  ;  both  repectable  in  their  characters,  and  it  would  ap 
pear  poCVffed  of  confiderable  knowledge  and  urbanity,  which,  in  a  country  where  education  wa* 
cheap,  and  property  a  good  deal  fnbdividcd,  was  often  the  cafe  with  perfons  of  their  ftation. 

Before  he  was  fix  months  old,  he  was  totally  deprived  of  his  eye-fight  by  the  fmall-pox,  and  re 
duced  to  that  forlorn  fituation  fo  feelingly  defcribed  by  himfelf  in  his  Soliloquy.  This  rendered  him 
incapable  of  any  of  thofe  mechanical  trades  to  which  his  father  might  naturally  have  been  inclined 
to  breed  him,  and  his  circumftances  prevented  his  afpiring  to  the  higher  profeffions.  The  good 
tnan,  therefore,  kept  his  fon  in  his  houfe,  and,  with  the  afliftance  of  fome  of  his  friends,  foftered 
that  inclination  which  he  early  fliowed  for  books,  by  reading,  to  amufe  him ;  firft  the  fimple  fort 
of  publications  which  are  commonly  put  into  the  hands  of  children,  and  then  feveral  paffages  out 
of  fome  of  our  poets.  His  companions,  whom  his  early  gentlenefs,  and  kindnefs  of  tlifpofitian,  as 
well  as  their  compaflion  for  his  misfortune,  ftrongly  attached  to  him,  were  very  affiduous  in  their 
good  eiffices,  in  reading,  to  inftruct  and  amufe  him.  13y  their  affiftance,  he  acquired  fome  know 
ledge  of  the  Latin  tongue  ;  but  he  never  was  at  a  grammar  Cchool  till  at  a  more  advanced  period 
cf  life.  Poetry  was  even  then  his  favourite  reading,  and  he  found  as  emhufiaftic  delight  in  the 
WOiks  of  Milton,  Spcnfer,  Paor,  Pope  and  Addifen,  and  <n  thofe  of  hit  countryman, 

6 


THE  LIFE  OF  BLACKLOCK. 
From  loving  and  admiring  them  fo  much,  he  foon  was  led  to  endeavour  to  imitate  them ;  and 
when  fcarce  twelve  years  of  age,  he  began  to  write  verfes.  Among  thefe  early  eflays  of  his  ge 
nius,  there  was  one  addreffed  To  a  little  girl  -wltm  be  bad  offended,  -written  at  tiuclvi  years  of  age,  which 
is  prefcrved  in  his  works,  and  is  not  perhaps  inferior  to  any  of  the  premature  competitions  of 
boys,  aflifted  by  the  beft  education,  which  are  only  recalled  into  notice  by  the  future  fame  of  their 
authors. 

He  had  attained  the  age  of  nineteen,  when  his  father  was  killed  by  the  accidental  fall  of  a  malt- 
kiln  belonging  to  his  fon-in-law.  This  lofs,  heavy  to  any  one  at  that  early  age,  would  have  been, 
however,  to  a  young  man  poffefiing  the  ordinary  advantages  of  education  comparatively  light ;  but 
to  him,  thus  fuddenly  deprived  of  that  fupport  on  which  his  youth  had  leaned,  deftitute  almoft 
of  any  refource  which  induftry  affords  to  thofe  who  have  the  bleflings  of  fight,  with  a  body  feeble 
and  delicate  from  nature,  and  a  mind  congenially  fufceptible,  it  was  not  furprifing  that  this  blow 
was  doubly  fevere,  and  threw  on  his  fpirits  that  defpondent  gloom  to  which  he  then  gave  way,  and 
which  fometimes  overclouded  them  in  the  fubfequent  period  of  his  life. 

Though  dependent,  however,  he  was  not  deftitute  of  friends,  and  heaven  rewarded  the  pious 
confidence  which  he  expreffed  in  its  care,  by  providing  for  him  protectors  and  patrons,  by  whofe 
affiftance  he  obtained  advantages,  which,  had  his  father  lived,  might  perhaps  never  have  opened  to 
him. 

He  lived  with  his  mother  about  a  year  after  his  father's  .death,  and  began  to  be  diftinguifhed  as 
a  young  man  of  uncommon  parts  and  genius.  Thefe  were  at  that  time  unaffifted  by  learning  ;  the 
circumstances  of  his  family  affording  him  no  better  education  than  the  fmattering  of  Latin  which 
his  companions  had  taught  him,  and  the  perufal  and  recollection  of  the  few  Englilh  authors,  which 
they,  or  his  father,  in  the  intervals  of  his  profeffional  labours,  had  read  to  him. 

Poetry,  however,  though  it  attains  its  higheft  perfection  in  a  cultivated  foil,  grows  perhaps  as 
luxuriantly  in  a  wild  one.  To  poetry  he  was  devoted  from  his  earlieft  days,  and  about  this  time 
feveral  of  his  poetical  productions  began  to  be  handed  about,  which  confiderably  enlarged  the 
circle  of  his  friends  and  acquaintance. 

Some  of  his  competitions  being  fhown  to  Dr.  Stevenfon,  an  eminent  phyfician  in  Edinburgh,  who 
was  accidentally  at  Dumfries,  on  a  profeffional  vifit,  he  formed  the  benevolent  defign  of  carrying 
fcim  to  the  metropolis,  and  giving  to  his  natural  endowments'the  sililtance  of  a  claffical  education. 

He  came  to  Edinburgh  in  1741,  and  "  was  enrolled,"  fays  Mr.  Mackenzie,  "  a  ftudent  of  divinity 
In  the  univerfity  there,  though  at  that  time  without  any  particular  view  of  entering  into  the  church." 
But  this  account  may  be  reasonably  doubted  ;  for,  in  the  univerfity  of  Edinburgh,  no  ftudent  is  ad. 
xnited  into  the  theological  clafs,  till  he  has  completed  a  courfc  of  languages  and  philofophy.  Be 
tides,  it  appears  by  the  following  letter  from  the  Rev.  Richard  Batty  of  Kirk  Andrews,  whofe  wife 
•was  Blacklock's  coufin,  to  Sir  James  Johnfton,  Bart,  of  Wefterhall,  dated  January  ai.  1744-5,  print 
ed  in  the  "  Scottifh  Regifter"  1794,  that  he  continued  at  the  grammar  fchool  in  Edinburgh,  till  the 
beginning  of  1745. 

"  I  had  a  letter  fometime  ago  from  Mr.  Hoggan  at  Comlongan,  fignifying  that  Lady  Annandale 
had  fpoke  to  you  about  a  burfary  for  one  Thomas  Blacklock,  a  blind  boy,  who  is  now  at  the  gram 
mar  fchool  in  Edinburgh.  He  is  endued  with  the  moft  furprifing  genius,  and  has  been  the  author  of 
a  great  many  excellent  poems.  He  has  been  hitherto  fupported  by  the  bounty  of  Dr.  Stevenfon, 
a  gentleman  in  Edinburgh.  I  underftand  that  there  will  be  a  burfary  vacant  againft  Candlemas ; 
if,  therefore,  you  would  plcafe  to  favour  him  with  ynur  intereft,  it  will  be  a  great  charity  d/ne  to 
a  poor  lad,  who  may  do  a  great  deal  of  good  in  his  generation." 

The  effect  of  this  application  is  not  known ;  but  he  feems  to  have  continued  his  ftudicp  under  the 
patronage  of  Dr.  Stevenfon  till  the  year,  1745.  Of  the  kindnefs  of  Dr.  Stevenfon,  he  always  fpoke 
with  the  greateft  warmth  of  gratitude  and  affedion,  and  addreffed  to  him  his  Imitation  of  the  frjt 
Ode  if  Horace. 

After  he  had  followed  his  fludies  at  Edinburgh,  for  four  years,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  Rebel- 
lion  in  174;,  he  returned  to  Dumfries,  where  he  refided  with  Mr.  M'Murdo,  his  brother-in-law,  in 


THE  LIFE  OF  BLACKLOCK.  11.73 

honfe  he  was  treated  with  kindnefs  and  affection,  and  had  an  opportunity  from  the  focietf 
which  it  afforded,  of  confiderably  increafing  the  ftore  of  his  ideas. 

In  1746,  he  puhlifhed  a  fmall  collection  of  his  Paant,  in  octavo,  at  Glafgow 
After  the  clofe  of  the  Rebellion,  and  complete  reiteration  of  the  peace  of  the  country,  he  return 
ed  to  Edinburgh,  and  purfued  his  ftudies  there  for  fix  years  longer. 

In  1754,  he  publifhed  at  Edinburgh  a  fecond  edition  of  his-Potmi,  very  much  improved  and  en-. 
larged,  in  octavo,  to  which  was  prefixed,  "  An  Account  of  his  Life,"  in  a  "  letter  to  the  publisher," 
from  Mr.  Gordon  of  Dumfries.  On  the  title  page  he  is  defigned  Student  »f  PLiltfofby  in  tin  Uni- 
verfity  of  Edinburgh  ;  fo  that  he  was  not  then,  as  Mr.  Mackenzie  fuppofcs,  "  enrolled  a  ftudent  of 
divinity." 

This  publication  attracted  the  attention  of  Mr.  Spence,  the  patron  of  Dodfley,  Duck,  and  Ri- 
ehardfon,  and  other  perfons  of  indigent  and  uncultiva:ed  genius,  who  conceived  a  great  regard 
for  Blacklock,  and  formed  the  benevolent  defign  of  recommending  him  to  the  patronage  of  perfont 
"  in  afBifence  or  power,"  by  writing  a  very  elaborate  and  ingenious  "  Account  of  his  Life,  Cha 
racter,  and  Poems,"  which  he  pubh'lhed  at  London,  in  8vo,  1754. 

During  his  laft  refidence  in  Edinburgh,  among  other  literary  acquaintance,  he  obtained  that  of 
the  celebrated  David  Hume,  who,  with  that  humanity  and  benevolence  for  which  he  was  diftin- 
guifhed,  attached  himfelf  warmly  to  Blacklock's  intcrefts.  He  wrote  a  "  letter  to  Dodfley,"  March 
11.  1754,  containing  a  very  favourable  reprefcntation  of  the  "  goodnefs  of  his  difpofuion,  and  the 
beauty  of  his  genius,"  which  contributed  to  promote  the  fubfcription  for  an  edition  of  his  P«emi  in 
4to,  which  was  publifhed  at  London  in  1756,  under  the  fuperintendence  of  Mr.  Spence,  with  his 
"  Account  of  the  Life,  Character,  and  Poems  of  Mr.  Blacklock,"  which  had  been  printed  feparate- 
ly  in  1754.  He  teftified  his  obligations  to  Mr.  Spence,  to  whom  he  was  perfonally  unknown,  in 
an  Efiflle,  -written  at  Dumfries,  17^9. 

In  the  courfe  of  his  education  at  Edinburgh,  he  acquired  a  proficiency  in  the  learned  language*, 
and  became  more  a  mailer  of  the  French  tongue  than  was  common  there,  from  the  focial  intercourfe 
to  which  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  admitted  in  the  houfe  of  Provofl  Alexander,  who  had  mar. 
ried  a  native  of  France. 

At  the  univerfity,  he  obtained  a  knowledge  of  the  various  branches  of  philofophy  and  theology, 
to  which  his  courfe  of  ftudy  naturally  led,  and  acquired  at  the  fame  time  a  considerable  fund  of 
learning  and  information  in  thofe  departments  of  'Science  and  Be/let  Ltttres,  from  which  his  want  of 
fight  did  not  absolutely  preclude  him. 

In  1756,  he  publifhed  at  Edinburgh,  An  Efcy  to-wards  Univtrfat  Etymology,  or  the  Analyfis  of  a 
Sentence,  Svo.  In  this  pamphlet,  the  general  principles  of  grammar,  and  the  definitions  of  the 
feveral  parts  of  fpeech  are  given  in  verfe  ;  and  illuftrations,  in  the  form  of  notes,  conftituting  the 
greateft  part  of  it,  are  added  in  profe.  The  notes  and  illuftrations  arc  concife,  but  judicious;  the 
verfes  are  not  remarkable  for  learning  or  poetical  embellifhment,  the  fubject  did  not  allow  it;  the 
concluding  lines,  however,  on  the  Advantages  of-  Grammar,  are  in  a  flyle  more  worthy  of  Black- 
lock. 

In  1757,  he  began  a  courfe  of  ftudy,  with  a  view  to  give  lectures  on  Oratory,  to  young  gentle- 
men  intended  for  the  bar  or  the  pulpit.  On  this  occafion,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Hume,  informed  him  o£ 
his  plan,  and  requefted  his  affiftance  in  the  profecurton  of  it.  But  Mr.  Hume  doubting  the  proba 
bility  of  its  fuccefs,  he  abandoned  the  project,  and  then  adopted  the  decided  intention  of  going  in 
to  the  church.  * 

After  applying  clofely  for  a  confiderable  time  to  the  ftudy  of  theology,  he  pafTedthe  ufual  triali 
in  the  prefbytery  of  Dumfries,  and  was  by  that.prcfbytery  licenced  a  Preacher  of  the  Gofpel  in 


As  a  preacher,  he  obtained  high  reputation,  and  was  fond  of  compofing  fermons.  In  1760,  when 
the  nation  was  alarmed  by  a  threatened  invafion  from  the  French,  he  publifhed  "  The  Sight  /«- 
prvuement  of  Timtt  *  Sermon^  8vo,  He  feems  to  have  imbibed  pretty  deeply  the  apprehenfion*  of  hii 

VOL.  XI.  4  D 


1154  THE  LIFE  OF  BLACKLOCK. 

countrymen.    The  fentiments  it  contains  are  juft  and  folid,  and  the  advices  are  calculated  to  be  uie- 
t'ul  at  all  times,  particularly  in  the  profpect  of  national  danger  or  diftrefo. 

The  fame  year  he  contributed  feveral  poetical  pieces  to  the  firft  volume  .of  Donaldfon's  "  Col 
lection  of  Original  Poems  by  Scotch  Gentlemen,"  izmo.  Mrs.  Blacklock  afciibes  the"  Epiftle  on 
Tafte,"  printed  in  this  volume,  as  Mr.  Gordon's,  to  Blacklock,  excepting  the  lines  relating  to  himfelf. 
'  In  1761,  he  publiflied,  "  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  compared,  a  Sermon,  8vo.  Though  this  cannot 
be  called  a  firft  rate  performance,  it  abounds  with  juft  and  elegant  remarks,  and  his  favourite  topic 
of  charity  is  agreeably  and  forcibly  illuftrated. 

In  1762,  he  married  Mifs  Sarah  Johnfton,  daughter  of  Mr.  Jofeph  Johnfton,  furgeon  in  Dum 
fries,  a  man  of  eminence  in  his  profcfiion,  and  of  a  character  highly  refpected  ;  a  connexion  which 
formed  the  great  folace  and  bleffing  of  his  future  life,  and  gave  him  with  all  the  tendernefs  of  a 
wife,  all  the  zealous  care  of  a  guide  and  a  friend.  This  event  took  place  a  few  days  before  his  be 
ing  ordained  minifter  of  Kirkcudbright,  in  confcquence  of  a  prefentation  from  the  Crown,  obtained 
for  him  by  the  Earl  of  Selkirk,  a  benevolent  nobleman,  whom  Blacklock' s  Gtuation  and  genius  had 
interfiled  in  his  behalf.  But  the  inhabitants  of  the  parifli,  whether  from  an  averfion  to  patronage, 
fo  prevalent  among  the  lower  ranks  in  North  Britain,  from  fome  political  difputes  which  at  that 
time  fubfifted  between  them  and  Lord  Selkirk,  or  from  thofe  prejudices  which  fome  of  them  might 
naturally  entertain  againft  a  perfon  deprived  of  fight,  or  perhaps  from  all  thofe  caufes  united,  were 
fo  extremely  difmclined  to  receive  him  as  their  minifter,  that,  after  a  legal  difpute  of  nearly  two 
years,  it  was  thought  expedient  by  his  friends,  as  it  had  always  been  wiflud  by  himfelf,  to  compro- 
mife  the  matter,  by  refigning  his  right  to  the  living,  and  accepting  a  moderate  annuity  in  its  ftead. 

The  following  anecdote  of  Blacklock,  mentioned  in  Dr.  Cleghorn's  Thefis,  I)e  Somno,  happened, 
at  the  inn  in  Kirkcudbright,  on  the  day  of  his  ordination,  and  is  authenticated  by  the  teftimo- 
*ny  of  Mrs.  Blacldock,  who  was  prefent,  with  Mr.  Gordon  and  a  numerous  company  of  his  friends 
•who  dined  with  him  on  the  occaiion.  It  merits  notice  both  as  a  curious  fact,  relative  to  the  ftate 
of  the  mind  in  fleep,  and  on  account  of  the  juft  and  elegant  compliment  with  which  it  concludes. 

"  Dr.  Bhcklock,  one  day,  haraffed  by  the  cenfures  of  the  populace,  whereby  not  only  his  repu 
tation,  but  his  vtry  fubfifteiice  was  endangered,  and  fatigued  with  mental  exertion,  fell  afleep  after 
dinner.  Some  hours  after,  he  was  called  upon  by  a  friend,  anfwered  his  falutation,  rofe  and  went 
with  him  into  the  dining  room,  where  fome  of  his  companions  were  met.  He  joined  with  two  of 
them  in  a  concert,  fmging  as  ufual,  with  tatte  and  elegance,  without  miffing  a  note,  or  forgetting  a 
word ;  he  then  went  to  fupper,  and  drank  a  glafs  or  two  of  wine.  His  friends,  however,  obferved 
him  to  be  a  little  abfentand  inattentive  ;  by  and  by  he  began  to  fpeak  to  himfelf,  but  in  fo  flow 
and  confuted  a  manner,  as  to  be  unintelligible.  At  laft  being  pretty  forcibly  roufed,  he  awoke 
with  a  fudden  ftart,unconfcious  of  all  that  had  happened,  as  till  then  he  had  continued  faft  afleep." 
Dr.  Clcghorn  adds,  with  great  truth,  after  relating  this  faft.  "  No  one  will  fufped  either  the 
judgment  or  the  veracity  of  Dr.  Blacklock.  All  who  knew  him  bear  teftimony  to  bis  judgment  ; 
his  fame  reds  on  a  better  foundation  than  fictitious  narratives ;  no  man  delights  in,  or  more  ftridtly 
adheres,  on  all  points,  to  the  truth." 

With  this  flender  provifion,  he  removed,  in  1764,  to  Edinburgh  ;  and  to  make  up  by  his  induftry, 
a  more  comfortable  and  decent  fubfiftence,  he  adopted  the  plan  of  receiving  a  certain  number  of 
young  gentlemen  as  boarders,  into  his  houfe,  whofe  ftudies  in  languages  and  philofophy,  he  might, 
if  necefury,  affift.  In  this  fituation  he  continued  till  1787,  when  he  found  his  time  of  life  and 
ftate  of  health  required  a  degree  of  repofe,  which  induced  him  to  difcontinue  the  receiving  of  board- 
erg. 

In  the  occupation  which  he  thus  exercifed  for  fo  many  years  of  his  life,  no  teacher  were,  per 
haps,  ever  more  agreeable  to  his  pupils,  nor  mafter  of  a  family  to  its  inmates,  than  Blacklock.  The 
gentlenefs  of  his  manners,  the  benignity  of  his  difpofuion,  and  that  warm  intereft  in  the  happinefs 
of  others,  which  led  him  fo  eonftantly  to  promote  it,  were  qualities  that  could  not  fail  to  procure 
him  the  love  and  regard  of  the  young  gentlemen  committed  to  his  charge ;  while  the  fociety  which 
efteein  and  refped  for  his  character  aad  hi?  genius,  often  affcmbled  at  his  houfe,  afforded  them  an 


THE  LIFE  OF  BLACltLOCK.  HJ5 

advantage  rarely  to  be  found  in  eftablifhments  of  a  fimilar  kind.  In  the  circle  of  his  fru'iids,  he 
appeared  entirely  to  forget  the  privation  of  fight,  and  the  melancholy  which  at  other  times  it  might 
produce.  He  entered,  with  the  cheerful  playfulnefs  if  a  young  man,  into  all  the  fprightly  narra 
tive,  the  fportful  fancy,  the  humourous  jeft  that  rofe  around  him.  It  was  a  fight  highly  gratify 
ing  to  philanthropy,  to  fee  hew  much  a  mind  endowed  with  knowledge,  kindled  by  genius,  and 
above  all  lighted  up  with  innocence  and  piety,  like  Blacklock's,  could  overcome  the  weight  of  its 
own  calamity,  and  enjoy  the  content,  the  happinefs,  and  the  gaiety  of  others.  Several  of  thofe  in 
mates  of  hishoufe,  were  ftudents  of  phyfic,  from  England,  Ireland,  and  America,  who  retained  iu 
future  life,  all  the  warmth  of  that  imprcflion,  which  his  friendfhip  at  this  early  period  had  made 
upon  them  ;  and  in  various  quarters  of  the  world,  he  had  friends  and  correfpondents,  from  whom 
no  length  of  time,  nor  diftance  of  place,  had  ever  eftranged  him.  Among  his  favourite,  correfpond-. 
ents  may  be  reckoned  Dr.  Tucker,  author  of  "  The  Bermudian,"  a  poem,  and  "  The  Anchoret," 
and  Dr.  Downman,  author  of  "  Infancy,"  a  poem,  and  other  ingenious  performances. 

In  1766,  upon  the  unfolicitated  recommendation  of  his  friend  Dr.  Bcattie,  the  degree  of  Dodor 
f  Divinity  was  conferred  on  him  by  the  Univerfity  and  Marifchal  College  of  Aberdeen. 

In  I  767,  he  publiflied  Paraclefts  ,  or,  Confolatioas  deduced  from  Natural  and  Revcakd  Religion  ;  in  tivo 
DiJJertations.  Tie  Jirfl  fuf>fofcd  to  have  teen  comfofed  by  Cicero,  now  rendered  into  Engbjb  ;  the  lajl  ori 
ginally  -written  by  Thomas  Blacklock,  D.  D.  8vo.  His  motive,  he  tells,  in  a  letter  ti  a  fri;nd,  prefixed 
to  this  work,  for  tranflating  the  firft,  and  writing  the  laft  treatife  on  Confolaiion,vrzs  to  alleviate  the 
preffure  of  repeated  difappointments,  to  fpoth  his  anguiih.  for  the  lofs  of  departed  friends,  to  elude 
the  rage  of  implacable  and  unprovoked  enemies,  and  to  fupport  his  own  mind,  which,  for  a  num 
ber  of  years,  befides  its  literary  difficulties,  and  its  natural  difadvantagcs,  had  maintained  an  incef- 
fant  ftruggle  with  fortune.  Of  the  Dijfertatinn  afcribed  to  Cicero,  he  endeavours  to  prove  the  au 
thenticity  ;  but  his  arguments  are  by  no  means  fatisfaiftory.  The  generality  of  critics  have  que- 
ftioned  its  authenticity.  Dr.  Middleton,  in  his  "  Life,  of  Cicero,"  fays,  ft  is  "  undoubtedly  fpu- 
rious."  The  tranflation  is  well  executed  ;  it  is  both  faithful  and  elegant.  The  fecond  DiJJertatioit 
is  moftly  taken  up  with  a  clear  and  fuccincl  view  of  the  evidences  of  Chriftianity,  the  profeffed 
fubject  of  it ;  the  confolation  derived  from  revealed  religion,  is  touched  upon  towards  the  conclufion, 
though  at  no  great  length. 

In  1768,  he  publiflied,  without  his  name,  Tivo  Difiourfts  en  tie  Spirit  and  Evidences  tf  Cbriftianity. 
The  former  preached  at  tkc  Hague  the  %tt  tf  September  1762,  the  latter  delivered  in  the  Frencl  Church  a'; 
Hanau,  on  the  eccajioa  of  the  late  Peace,  to  a  Congregation  fomfofed  of  Catholics  and  Protejlants,  tranJlutcJ 
from  the  original  French  of  ike  Rev.  Mr.  "James  slrmanJ,  MiniJJer  of  the  Waloon  Church  in  Hanau,  and 
dedicated  by  the  tranjlaier  tb-'Kev.  Moderator  tf  the  General  AJtmily,  8w.  The  dedication,  which  is>u 
long  one,  is  chiefly  intended  for  the  periifal  of  the  clergy  of  the  Church  of  Scotlaod,  but  deferves 
the  attentive  confideration  of  all  who  are  intended  for,  or  engaged  in,  the  work  of  the  miniftry. 
The  obfervations  it  contains  are  judicious  and  pertinent ;  the  ftyle  is  fprightly  and  animated  ;  and 
the  fpirit  it  breathes,  though  fometimes  remote  from  that  charity,  which  on  other  occafions  ht  f» 
eloquently  enforced,  and  fo  generally  pra&ifed,  is  the  fpirit  of  benevolence  and  love  to  mankind- 
The  Difiourfes  themfelves  are  lively  and  animated ;  and  the  ftyle  of  the  translations  clear,  nervous, 
and  fpirited. 

In  1773,  he  publifhed,  at  Edinburgh,  a  poem,  intituled,  A  Panegyric  on  Great  Britain,  8vo;  this 
poem,  which  is  a  kind  of  fatire  on  the  age,  exhibits  fhrewdnefs  of  obfervation,  and  a  farcaftic  vein, 
which  might  have  fitted  him  for  fatirical  compofition,  had  he  chofeu  to  employ  his  pen  more  frc  - 
quently  on  that  branch  of  poetry. 

In  mufic,  both  as  a  judge  and  a  performer ,  his  fkill  was  confiderable;  nor  was  he  unacquainted 
with  its  principles  as  a  fcience.  Whether  he  compofed  much  is  uncertain,  but  there  is  publiflied 
in  "  The  Edinburgh  Magazine  and  Review"  for  1 774,  Abfenct, a  Pafloral,Jet  to  Muf,ct  t>y  Dr.  Blact- 
l$ck;  and  thofe  who  have  heard  him  fing,  will,  upon  perufal  of  this  little  piece,  have  the  idea  c! 
bis  manner  and  tafte  ftrikingly  recalled  to  their  recolk<3ion. 


THE  LIFE  OF  BL  ACKLOCK. 

The  fame  year  he  publiflied  the  Gra&am,  an  Heroic  Ballad,  in  four  Ctntot,  4to.  "  It  was  begun," 
he  tells  us,  in  the  advertifement  prefixed  to  it,  "  and  purfued  by  its  author  to  divert  wakefnl  and 
melancholy  hours,  which  the  recollection  of  paft  misfortunes,  and  the  fenfe  of  prefent  inconve- 
niencies,  would  otherwife  have  feverely  embittered."  The  profeffed  intention  of  his  Graham,  it 
to  sierifh  and  encourage  a  mutual  harmony  between  the  inhabitants  of  South  and  North  Britain. 
To  this  end  he  has  exhibited,  in  ftrong  colours,  fome  parts  of  thofe  miferies  which  their  ancient 
animofities  had  occafioned.  His  Graham  is  an  afie&ing  ftory,  in  which  love  and  jealoufy  have  a 
principal  {hare.  The  narration  is  animated  and  agreeable ;  the  fable  is  beautifully  fancied,  and 
fufficiently  perfpicuous ;  the  characters  are  boldly  marked ;  the  manners  he  paints  fuit  the  times 
to  which  he  refers,  and  the  moral  is  momentous ;  and  we  perceive  fcattered  through  the  whole 
piece,  thofe  fecret  graces,  and  thofe  bewitching  beauties  which  the  critic  would  in  vain  attempt  to 
defcribe.  But  it  is  perhaps  too  far  fpun  out,  and  the  ftanza  in  which  it  is  written  is  net  the  bed 
chofen,  nor  the  moft  agreeable  to  the  ear. 

This  was  the  laft  publication  which  he  gave  to  the  world  with  his  name.  From  this  time,  the 
ftate  of  his  health,  which  had  always  been  infirm  and  delicate,  began  vifibly  to  decline.  He  fre 
quently  complained  of  a  lownefs  of  fpirits,  and  was  occafionally  fubjeft  to  deafnefs,  which,  though 
he  feldom  felt  in  any  great  degree,  was  fufficient  in  his  fituation,  to  whom  the  fenfe  of  hearing 
was  almoft  the  only  channel  of  communication  with  the  external  world,  to  caufe  very  lively  un- 
eafinefs.  Amidft  thefe  indifpofitions  of  body,  however,  and  difquietudes  of  mind,  the  gentlenefs 
of  his  temper  never  forfook  him,  and  he  felt  all  that  refignation  and  confidence  in  the  Supreme  Be 
ing,  which  his  eariiefl  and  lateft  life  equally  acknowledged.  In  Summer  1791,  he  was  feized  with 
a  feverifli  diforder,  which  at  firft  feemed  of  a  flight,  and  never  rofe  to  a  very  violent  kind ;  but  a 
frame  fo  little  robuft  as  his  was  not  able  to  refill ;  and  after  about  a  week's  illncfs,  it  carried  him  off, 
on  the  7th  of  July  17911  in  the  7oth  year  of  his  age.  He  was  interred  in  the  burying-ground  of 
the  Chapel  of  Eafe,  in  the  pariih  of  St.  Cuthbert's,  where,  on  a  tomb-flonc  erected  to  his  memory 
J>y  his  wife,  is  the  following  infcription,  written  by  Dr.  Beattie  : 

VIRO.    REVERENDO. 
THOMAE.    BLACKLOCK.    D.  D. 

FROBO.    PIO.    BENrVOLO. 
OMN1OENA.    DOCTRINA.    ERVDITO. 

POETAE.    SVBLIMI.— 
AB.    1NCVNABVLIS.   VSqVE. 

OCVLIS.    CAPTO. 

AT.    HILAR1.    FACETO. 

AMlCISqVE.    SEMPER.    CAH1SIIMO. 

qvi.    NATVS.    XXI.    NOVEMB.    MDCCXXI. 

OBI1T.   VII.    IVI.II.    MDCCXCI. 

MONVMENTVM.    HOCCE. 
VJDVA.    EJVS.    SARA.   JOHNSTON. 
MOERENS.    P. 


'QQS-alfiuti  //.it  iifttffft,  iVon  i'  *ibStct.>  Aciinv. 

I"  *793>  a  new  edition  of  his  Pemj,  reprinted  from  the  410  edition  1756,  with  feveral  additian- 
al  pieces  never  before  printed,  togetber  viitk  an  E/ay  on  ibe  Education  of  tie  Blind,  tranflated  from  the 
French  of  M.  Hauy,  and  "  A  New  Account  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  the  Author,"  written 
by  Mr.  Mackenzie,  was  publilhed  at  Edinburgh  in  one  volume  410.  In  this  edition,  the  follow 
ing  acknowledged  poetical  productions  of  Blacklock  are  not  inferted ;  Prologue  to  Sir  Harry  Gay 
Itve;  dlftnce,  a  Pojloral ;  Panegyric  on  Great  Britain;  and  fie  Graham,  publifked  feparately ;  and 
An  Eftflle  to  T-wa  Sifleri  tn  tltir  Wedding  day  ;  Eftimate  of  Human  Great  nefs  ;  /•  tit  Lutcbef,  of  Hami 
lton,  on  ber  recovery  from  ClilJ-ieJ,  after  tit  birtb  of  tie  Marquis  of  Clydefdale  ;  Ode  on  a  favourite  Lap- 
dog  ;  Ode  to  a  Succcffful  Rivals  Cato  Vticenfi,  tn  bit  Wifi  at  Rome ;  Tbe  Cbronicle  of  a  Heart t  Song 
Jnfcriled  to  a  Friend,  in  imitation  of  Sbenjlone,  originally  printed  in  the  firft  volume  of  Donaldfon's 
"  Colledion  of  Poems,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Blacklock,  and  other  Scotch  Gentlemen,"  iimo,  1760. 
It  may  be  obfcmd,  that  the  verfcs  "  To  a  Lady,  with  Hammond's  Elegies,"  inferted  in  this  edition, 


THE  LIFE  OF  .BLACKLOCK. 
arc  not  printed  as  Blacklock's,  in  Donaldfon'*  "  Collection."  The  prefent  writer  has  not  ventur 
ed,  upon  the  authority  of  Mrs.  Blacklock,  to  deprive  Mr.  Gordon  of  the  "  Epiftle  on  Taftc,"  to 
which  he  has  put  his  name.  His  Ptemt,  reprinted  from  the  edition  1793,  together  with  the  feveral 
pieces  omitted  in  that  edition,  are  now,  for  the  f.rft  time,  received  into  a  collection  of  clafiical  En- 
glifh  poetry. 

Befides  thefe  publications,  which  are  known  to  be  Blacklock's,  and  to  foffie  of  which  he  put 
hit  name,  he  was  the  author  of  feveral  piece*,  not  fo  generally  known  to  have  come  from  him. 
Among  thefe,  there  are  fomc  articles  in  the  "  Encyclopedia  Britannica,"  1783.  The  interefting 
article  of  Blind  (firft  published  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Magazine  and  Review"  for  1774),  is  mention 
ed  with  juft  approbation  by  Mr.  Mackenzie.  The  article  of  Poetry  in  the  "  Encyclopedia,"  as 
well  as  fome  others  on  various  fubje<fts  of  the  Belles  Lettres,  were  likewife,  it  is  believed,  the  pro 
ductions  of  Blacklock  ;  and  it  is  faid  that  he  had  drawn  up  for  the  fame  work  an  EJJay  on  Predejli- 
tiation,  though  it  is  not  known  whether  the  manufcript  be  prefcrved.  He  is  known  alfo  to  have 
written  a  Tragedy  ;  the  manufcript  of  which  was  put  into  the  hands  of  the  late  Andrew  Crofbiej 
Efq.  an  eminent  advocate  at  the  Scottiih  bar,  but  has  not  been  recovered.  !5ome  Memoirs  of  bit 
Lift,  written  by  himfelf,  are  now  in  the  pofleflion  of  Dr.  Beattie.  He  has  left  fome  volumes  of 
Sermons  in  manufcript,  as  alfo  a  Trtotlfc  on  Morals,  both  of  which  it  is  in  contemplation  with  his  . 
friends  to  publiih.  It  is  probable  that  the  moft  important  of  hit  other  pieces  maybe  collected  and 
republifhed  on  that  occafion. 

His  character,  private  habits,  domeftic  manners,  and  moft  obfirrvable  peculiarities,  have  been  de 
lineated  with  fo  much  accuracy  of  difcrimination,  and  ftrength  of  colouring,  by  the  happy  pencil 
of  Mr.  Mackenzie,  as  to  render  any  additional  ftrokes  from  a  cafual  hand  unneceflary. 

"  The  tenor  of  his  occupations,"  fays  Mr.  Mackenzie,  "  as  well  as  the  bent  of  his  mind,  during 
the  early  period  of  his  life,  will  appear  in  the  following  plain  and  unfludied  account,  contained  in 
a  letter  from  his  moft  intimate  and  conftant  companion,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jamefon,  formerly  minifter 
of  the  Epifcopal  Chapel  at  Dumfries,  afterwards  of  the  Etiglifh  Congregation  at  Dantzic,  and  who 
now  refidesat  Newcaftle-upon-Tyne. 

"  His  manner  of  life  was  fo  uniform,  that  the  hiftory  of  it  during  one  day,  or  one  week,  is  the 
hiftory  of  it  during  the  feven  years  that  our  perfonal  intercourfe  lafted.  Reading,  mufic,  walking, 
converfing,  and  difputing  on  various  topics,  in  theology,  ethics,  &c.  employed. almoft  every  hour  of 
our  time.  It  was  pleafant  to  hear  him  engaged  in  a  difpute,  for  no  man  could  keep  his  temper 
better  than  he  always  did  on  fuch  occafions.  I  have  known  him  frequently  very  warmly  engaged 
for  hours  together,  but  never  could  obfenre  one  angry  word  to  fall  from  him.  Whatever  his  an- 
tagonift  might  fay,  be  always  kept  his  temper  "  Semper  paratus  et  refellere  fine  pertinacia,  et  te- 
"  felli  fine  iracundia."  He  was,  however,  extremely  fenfible  to  what  he  thought  ill  ufage,  and  e- 
qually  fo  whether  it  regarded  himfelf  or  his  friends.  But  his  refentment  was  always  confined  to  a 
few  fatirical  verfes,  which  were  generally  burnt  foon  after.  The  late  Mr.  Spencc  frequently 
urged  him  to  write  a  tragedy;  and  afiured  him  that  he  had  intereft  enough  with  Mr.  Garrick  to 
get  it  acted.  Various  fubje&s  were  propofed  to  him,  feveral  of  which  he  approved  of,  yet  he  never 
could  be  prevailed  on  to  begin  any  thing  of  that  kind.  It  may  feem  remarkable,  but  as  far  as  I 
know,  it  was  invariably  the  cafe,  tbat  he  never  could  think  or  write  on  any  fubjed  propofed  to  him 
by  another.  I  have  frequently  admired  with  what  readinefs  and  rapidity  he  could  fometimes 
make  verfes.  I  have  known  him  didate  from  thirty  to  forty  verfcs,  and  by  no  mean*  bad  ones,  as 
laft  a*  I  could  write  them  ;  but  the  moment  he  was  at  a  lofs  for  a  rhyme  or  a  verfe  to  his  liking, 
he  ft  opt  altogether,  and  could  very  feldom  be  induced  to  finlih  what  he  had  begun  with  fo  much 
ardour." 

"  This  account,"  Mr.  Mackenzie  obferves,  "  fufficiently  marks  that  eager  fenfibility,  chaftencd 
at  the  fame  time  with  uncommon  gentlencfs  of  temper,  which  characterized  Blacklock,  and 
•which  indeed  it  was  impoCible  to  be  at  all  in  his  company  without  perceiving.  In  the  fcience  of 
mind,  this  is  that  divifion  of  it  which  perhaps  one  would  peculiarly  appropriate  to  poetry,  at  leaft  to 
all  thole  lighter  fpecle^  which  rather  depend  on  quicknti*  of  feeling,  and  the  ready  conception  of 


H5?  THE  LIFE   OF  BLACKLOCK:. 

pleafing  images,  than  on  the  happy  arrangement  of  parts,  or  the  fkilful  conftru&ion  of  a  whole, 
which  are  efiential  to  the  higher  departments  of  the  poetical  art.  The  firft  kind  of  talent  is  li 
thofe  warm  and  light  foils  which  produce  their  annual  crops  in  fuch  abundance ;  the  laft,  like 
that  deeper  and  firmer  mould  on  which  the  roots  of  eternal  forefls  are  fixed.  Of  the  firft  we  ha\ 
feen  many  happy  inflances  in  that  fex  which  is  fuppofed  lefs  capable  of  ftudy  or  thought ;  fror 
the  laft  is  drawn  that  mafculine  fublimity  of  genius  which  could  build  an  Iliad  or  a  Paradlfe  Lo 

"  All  thofe  who  ever  adled  as  his  amanuenfes,  agree  in  this  rapidity  and  ardour  of  compofitior 
•which  Mr.  Jatnefon  afcribes  to  him.     He  never  could  dictate  till  he  flood  up  ;  and  as  his  blindnef 
made  walking  about  without  afiiftance  inconvenient  or  dangerous  to  him,  he  fell  infenfibly  into 
vibratory  fort  of  motiQn  of  his  body,  which  increafed  as  he  warmed  with  his  fubjetSt,  and  was  plea 
ed  with  the  conceptions  of  his  mind.     This  motion  at  laft  became  habitual  to  him,  and  thoug 
he  could  fometimes  reftrain  it  when  on  ceremony,  or  in  any  public  appearance,  fuch  as  preaching 
he  felt  a  certain  uneafinefs  from  the  effort,  and  always  returned  to  it  when  he  could  indulge  it  wit! 
out  impropriety.     This  is  the  appearance  which  he  defcribes  in  the  ludicrous  picture  he  has  drav 
of  himfelf  (in  the  Author's  Pitfure.')     Of  this  portrait  the  outlines  are  true,  though  the  gener 
effed:  is  overcharged.     His  features  were  hurt  by  the  difeafe  which  deprived  him  of  fight ;  ye 
even  with  thofe  tlifadvantages,  there  was  a  certain  placid  exprefiion  in  his  phyfiognomy  whicl 
marked  the  benevolence  of  his  mind,  and  was  extremely  calculated  to  procure  him  attachment  and 
regard. 

"  Mufic,  which  to  the  feeling  and  to  the  penfive,  in  whatever  fituation,  is  a  fource  of  extreme 
•Delight,  but  which  to  the  blind  muft  be  creative,  as  it  were,  of  idea  and  of  fentiment,  he  enjoyed 
highly,  and  was  himfelf  a  tolerable  performer  on  feveral  inftruments,  particularly  on  the  flute.  He 
generally  carried  in  his  pocket  a  fmall  flagelot,  on  which  he  played  his  favourite  tunes  ;  and  was 
not  difpleafed  when  afked  in  company  to  play  or  to  fmg  them ;  a  natural  feeling  for  a  blind  man, 
•who  thus  adds  a  fcene  ro  the  drama  of  his  fociety. 

"  Of  the  happinefs  of  others,  however,  we  are  incompetent  judges.  Companionfhip  and  fympathy 
bring  forth  thofe  gay  colours  of  mirth  and  cheerfulnefs  which  they  put  on  for  a  while,  to  cover 
perhaps  that  fadnefs  which  we  have  no  opportunity  of  witneffing.     Of  a  blind  man's  condition  we 
arc  particularly  liable  to  form  a  mifrakcn  eftimate ;  we  give  him  credit  for  all  thofe  gleams  of  de 
light  which  fociety  affords  him,  without  placing  to  their  full  account  thofe  dreary  moments  of  dark- 
Jbme  folitudc  to  which  the  fufpenfion  of  that  fociety  condemns  him.     Blacklock  had  from  na 
ture  a  conftitiition  delicate  and  nervous,  and  his  mind,  as  is  almofl  always  the  cafe,  was  in  a  grea 
degree  fubject  to  the   indifpofuion  of  his  body.     He  frequently  complained  of  a  lownefs  and  de 
preflion  6f  fpirits,  which  neither  the  attentions  of  his  friends,  nor  the  unceafing  care  of  a  mof 
affrdionate  wife,  were  able  entirely  to  remove.     The  imagination  we  are  fo  apt  to  envy  and  ad- 
snire  ferves  but  to  irritate  this  diforder  of  the  mind;  and  that  fancy  in  whofe  creation  we  fo  mucf 
drlight,  can  draw,  from  fources  unknown  to  common  men,  fubjecfts  of  difguft,  difquietude,  ant 
afHidion.     Some  of  his   later  poems,  now  firft  publiflicd,  exprefs  a  chagrin,  though  not  of  an  un 
gentle   fort,  at  the  fuppofed  failure  of  his  imaginative  powers,  or  at   the  faftidioufnefs  of  modern 
times,  which  he  defpaired  to  pleafe. 

Such  were  his  efforts,  fuch  his  cold  reward, 

Whom  once  thy  partial  tongue  pronounc'd  a  bard; 

Excurfive,  on  the  gentle  gales  of  fpring, 

He  rnv'd,  while  favour  imp'd  his  timid  wing ; 

Exhaufted  genius  now  no  more  infpires, 

B'it  mourns  abortive  hopes,  and  faded  fires ; 

The  fhort-liv'd  wreath,  which  once  his  temples  grac'd, 

Fades  at  the  fickly  breath  of  fqueamifli  tafte  ; 

Whilft  darker  days  his  fainting  flames  immure 

In  cheerlefs  gloom,  and  winter  premature. 

Efiflle  to  Dr.  Ogibie. 

"  Thefe  lines  are,  however,  no  proof  of  "  exhaufled  genius,"  or  "  faded  fires."  "  Abortive  hopes," 
indeed,  mud  be  the  lot  of  all  who  reach  that  period  of  life  at  which  they  were  written.     In  early 


THE   LIFE   OF  BLACKLOCK.  115$ 

youth  the  heart  of  every  one  is  a  poet ;  it  creates  a  fcene  of  imagined  happincfs  and  delufive  hopes; 
it  clothes  the  world  in  the  bright  colours  of  its  own  fancy  ;  it  refines  what  is  coarfc,  ;rs  rir.lt:>  wlia: 
is  mean  ;  it  fees  nothing  but  difintereftednefs  in  friendfhip,  it  promifes  eternal  fidelity  in  love. 
Even  on  the  diftrefles  of  its  fituation  it  can  throw  a  certain  romantic  fhade  of  melancholy,  that 
leaves  a  man  lad,  but  doe»  not  make  him  unhappy.  But  at  a  more  advanced  age,  "  the  fairy  vifion* 
fade,"  and  he  fuffers  moft  deeply  who  has  indulged  them  the  moft." 

As  an  author,  under  difadvantages  which  feem  unfurmountable  to  nature,  Blacklock  has  eminently 
diftinguifhed  himfelf.  Though  blind  from  his  infancy,  the  impulfe  of  curiofity,  and  the  vigorous 
exertion  of  his  talents,  conducted  him  to  uncommon  knowledge.  He  acquired  tongues  and  arts 
by  the  ear,  in  many  of  which  he  excelled.  There  is  no  fciencc  with  which  he  was  not  acquaint 
ed  ;  he  was  familiar  with  the  learned  languages,  and  he  knew  with  accuracy  thofe  of  modern  Eu 
rope  that  are  the  moft  cultivated.  Among  philofophers,  he  has  obtained  a  confpicuous  rank  by  his 
Paraclffts.  His  little  treatife  en  the  Education  ef  the  Blind,  in  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,"  is  va 
luable,  not  only  on  account  of  its  peculiarity,  as  being  the  production  of  a  blind  man,  but  of  its  in- 
trinfic  merit.  It  contains  chiefly  reflections  on  the  diflreffes  and  difadvantages  of  blindnefs,  and 
the  beft  means  of  alleviating  them  ;  directions  for  the  education  of  the  fclind,  and  a  defcription  of 
various  inventions  for  enabling  them  to  attain  to,  and  to  practife  feveral  arts  and  fciences.  Ths 
fympathy  and  active  benevolence  of  Blacklock,  prompted  him  to  this  compofition,  as  well  as  to  the 
tranflation  of  M.  Hauy's  account  of  the  charitable  inftitution  for  the  blind  at  Paris,  which  is  an 
nexed  to  the  lad  edition  of  his'  poems. 

As  a  poet,  though  not  of  the  higheft  clafs,  he  is  entitled  to  a  rank  not  inferior  to  Addifon,  Par- 
nell,  and  Shenftone,  with  refpect  to  proper  imagery,  correct  ftyle,  or  creative  genius.  His  com- 
pofitions  exhibit  ample  proofs  of  ready  invention,  lively  fancy,  ardent  feeling,  correct  tafte,  and 
a  copious  command  of  poetical  language.  They  are  the  productions  of  a  mind  not  deficient  in 
fire  or  poetical  enthufiafm  ;  but  they  are  more  recommended  by  finiplicity,  tendernefs,  anima 
tion,  and  harmony,  than  by  fublimity,  variety,  comprehenfion,  or  originality ;  they  bear  evident 
marks  of  poetical  genius  and  claflical  tafte,  though  we  do  not  find  in  them  the  traces  of  that  pa 
tient  induftry  which  fixe<  the  ftamp  of  faultlels  accuracy  upon  every  line.  Pope  feems  to  have 
been  his  model  for  verfification,  and  it  muit  be  allowed  that  he  has  copied  his  paules,  cadence,  and 
caft  of  diction,  with  conCdcrable  fuccefs;  many  paflages  are  written  with  an  elegance,  correct  - 
nefs,  fpirit  and  harmony,  which  rival  the  beft  productions  of  that  celebrated  poet ;  but  he  does  not: 
uniformly  maintain  his  eafy  elegance,  nor  breathe  his  free  and  unwearied  fpirit. 

His  f.le«ics.  Hymns,  Odes  and  .Epiflles,  are  chiefly  diftinguiflied  by  ferioufnefs  of  fuhjcct,  fubli- 
rnity  of  thought,  opulence  of  imagery,  tendernefs  of  fentiment,  and  ftrength  and  elegance  of  com 
pofition.  Of  his  Paflcrals,  the  principal  merit  confifts  in  the  harmony  of  the  verfification.  Thr. 
images  are  feldom  new,  and  the  fentimeuts  and  defcriptions  are  generally  trite  and  common.  His 
Sengs  are  commonly  tender,  delicate  and  fprightly.  The  Braes  of  Ballendyne  ranks  with  the  mofh 
popular  compofitions  of  the  kind  in  the  Englifli  language.  His  Occuftonal  Poems,  and  pieces  of  hu 
mour  and  pleafantry,  have  their  brighter  paffages,  and  may  be  read  with  pleafure ;  but  they  re 
quire  no  diftinct  examination  or  particular  criticifm. 

Mr.  SpenceN  cftimate  of  his  poetical  charailer  is  candid  and  judicious,  and  does  equal  honour 
to  the  tafte  and  benevolence  of  that  amiable  and  elegant  critic. 

"  There  is  a  great  perfpicuity,  neatnefs,  and  even  elegance  of  ftyle,  to  be  obferved  in  feveral  of 
hi*  pieces;  particularly,  in  h/s  Wifi  (which  has  fo  many  other  beauties),  in  his  Imitation  of  ene  of 
the  Pjalms  J39th)  ;  his  form  an  tbi  Refinements  in  Mctaplyfictl  Pbilofoply  (in  which  he  owns  he  had 
plunged  too  deep,  formerly,  himfelf),  in  hi'  new  drefling  rhe  Old  Scutch  Song,  and  his  Ode  to  a  Coyurt. 
The  laft  mentioned  of  thefe  is  written  with  fomething  of  a  gayer  air,  than  is  ufual  in  his  poems; 
though  he  is  far  from  wanting  a  talent  lor  vivacity  and  fatire,  if  he  wculd  give  himfelf  leave  to 
indulge  it ;  hut  he  is  fo  good-natured,  that  he  has  fcarce  given  us  any  direct  fpecimen  of  it  againft 
anyone,  except  hlmf-lf  This  is  in  the  piece  called  the  Author's  Piffure ;  from  which,  and  hi « 
•arlicft  piece  of  all  (that  has  fume  glances  ef  the  fame  kind),  it  may  fairly  enough  be  conje&urecJ, 

<D  iii 


il6e  THE  LIFE   Of   BLACKLOCK. 

that  he  had  a  natural  bent  this  way :  and  it  might  probably  have  appeared  much  more  frequently, 
and  more  ftrongly  in  his  writings,  had  it  not  been  for  his  fuperior  goodnefs  of  heart,  and  his  being 
ftruck  (as  foon  as  he  came  to  a  reafoning  age)  fo  much  more  ftrongly,  with  the  charm  s  of  morality 
and  philofophy.  His  Pa/ioral  Song,  and  his  Ode  to  a  Friend  that  -was  going  Abroad,  are  very  well 
written,  each  in  their  way ;  and  have  befide,  feveral  good  pathetic  ftrokes  in  them.  His  Pafloral,  in. 
fcribcd t»  Euantlit,  is  poetical  as  well  pathetic,  to  a  great  degree;  and  his  Soliloquy  is  both,  in  a  very 
high  one.  His  Elegy  *n  ConJJaxtia  flows  on,  all  in  one  ftream  of  diftrefs  and  paflion  ;  and  rifes  about 
the  middle  of  the  piece,  to  very  high  poetry.  This,  with  the  foliloquy  juft  mentioned,  and  two  of 
his  hymns,  tnc  to  tie  Supreme  JJeittf,  and  the  other  to  Fortitude,'  are  the  parts  of  his  poems  which 
would  be  the  moft  proper  of  any  t»  prove  that  he  is  not  incapable  of  himfelf  to  rife  to  a  true  fubli- 
mity,  both  of  thinking  and  writing.  His  Hymn  to  Bent-valence  is  an  amiable  piece,  for  its  enlarged 
notions  ;  and  both  that  and  his  Odi  to  *  LaJy,  on  tie  l»fi  of  her  Child,  abound  as  much  in  good  mo 
rals,  as  they  do  in  good  fenfe  and  poetry.  His  tranflation  of  Buchannant  Dcftdcrlum  Luteti*,  and 
his  own  Plaintive  Sbtpberd,  give  the  beft  proofs  of  his  cafe  and  fluency  in  the  paftoral  fort  of  ver- 
fifkation  ;  and  in  the  latter  of  thefe,  there  is  a  ftrong  inftance  of  his  varying  his  notes  according 
to  the  occafion.  I  mean,  where  he  fpeaks  of  his  own  diftrefs  in  flow  folemn  numbers;  and  of 
his  rival's  happinefs  in  a  more  enlivened  and  joyous  run  of  verfe.  Much  the  fame  thing  may  be 
obfcrved  in  his  two  odes,  printed  together;  one  writ  in  the  time  of  Jictnefs,  and  the  other  in 
lialtl.  Thefe  forts  of  miscellaneous  poems  have  not  generally  much  of  planning  in  them.  The 
beft  planned  among  Mr.  Blacklock's  feems  to  be  his  Wlfb  Satisfied,  and  the  Monody ;  the  latter  of 
which,  befide  this  merit,  is  very  pathetic,  and  very  poetical.  The  moft  diftinguifhing  character  of 
poetry,  is  to  be  defcriptive  ;  and  it  is  this  which  gives  the  very  near  relation  that  there  is  between 
poetry  and  painting.  Mr.  Blacklock  is  very  defcriptive  in  many  parts  of  his  poemi;  but  it  is  very 
eafy  to  be  obferved,  that  where  his  defcriptions  are  of  any  length,  they  are  generally  not  defcriptions 
of  things,  but  of  paffions.  To  which  one  may  add,  that  they  turn  much  more  on  the  melancholy 
paffions,  than  the  joyous  or  pleafing  ones.  Both  of  which  are  perhaps  to  be  accounted  for,  from 
his  unfortunate  lofs  of  fight  in  his  infancy. 

"  The  Gentleman,  who  has  given  the  account  of  our  author  prefixed  to  his  works,  fays,  that  it 
has  been  obferved  by  others,  "  That  it  muft  be  matter  of  amufement  to  the  curious  reader,  to  re 
mark  how  well  the  poet  defcribes  obje&s  which  he  never  faw,  and  expreffes  fo  as  to  be  underftood 
by  others,  thofe  ideas  which  he  himfelf  could  never  conceive."  It  is  remarkable  enough,  that  fomc 
of  the  greateft  poets  that  ever  were  in  the  world,  have  been  blind  ;  and  it  is  very  probable,  that  the 
lofs  of  their  fight  may  have  added  to  the  force  of  their  imagination,  as  far  as  it  went ;  in  the  fame 
manner,  and  for  the  fame  reafons,  that  we  think  the  more  intenfely  of  any  one  thing,  when  we 
Jhut  out  all  the  other  objeds  that  are  round  about  us.  But  a  poet  born  blind,  or  (which  is  much 
the  fame  thing)  one  who  has  been  blind  from  his  early  infancy,  is  ftill  a  novelty,  and  a  thing  much 
to  be  wondered  at.  Our  great  Milton  did  not  lofe  his  fight  till  he  was  about  fifty  years  old ;  and 
Homer,  for  ought  we  know,  might  have  enjoyed  his  till  after  he  had  finifhed  his  two  moft  celebrat 
ed  poems.  Our  author  loft  his  fight  entirely,  before  he  was  a  year  old  ;  and  confequently  whatever 
ideas  he  may  have  in  relation  to  vifible  objects,  muft  have  been  acquired  only  from  th«  characters  he 
has  learnt  of  them  from  books  and  converfation  ;  and  fome  fuppofed  analogies  between  thofe  cha- 
raders,  and  any  of  the  ideas  in  the  flock  he  has  laid  in,  cither  from  his  other  fenfe?,  or  his  own  re- 
fledions  upon  them.  Notwithftanding  which,  he  fpeaks  very  frequently  of  the  objeds  and  ideas 
belonging  to  fight,  with  great  familiarity  and  boldnefs,  and  generally  without  impropriety.  Af 
ter  putting  many  paflages  together  relating  to  vifible  objeds,  from  our  author's  works,  I  am 
lefs  furprifed  than  I  was  in  the  firft  reading  of  them,  at  his  fpeaking  fo  frequently,  as  if  he  adually 
enjoyed  his  eye-fight.  The  ftock  of  ideas  which  he  has  ftored  up  in  his  mind,  and  fubftituted  in 
the  room  of  i  ur  ideas  of  things  vifible,  and  with  like  names  affixed  to  them,  are  fo  familiar  to  him, 
and  are  ufed  by  him  in  fo  uncommon  and  unaccountable  a  manner,  that  they  feem  to  ferve  him  a* 
a  fubfidiary  fort  of  fight,  and  put  one  in  mind  of  his  own  expreffibns  of  intellectual  rays,  internal 
day,  and  the  mental  eye;  as  well  at  of  that  paflige  cited  from  the  Pfalmift,  in  the  title  page, 


THE   LIFE  OF  BLACKLOCK.  nit 

Kvfin  ro$oi  r»px»;,  or  as  our  tranfiators  (by  joining  the  fenfe  of  the  original,  to  their  own)  might 
hare  rendered  it, "  The  Lord  giveth  [internal]  fight  to  the  blind." 

Mr.  Mackenzie's  obfcrvations  on  his  poetical  writings  and  character  are  no  lefs  juft  than  elegant. 
The  theory  of  his  imaginative  and  defcriptive  powers  is  ingenious,  and,  though  long,  is  too  valu 
able  to  be  withheld. 

"  In  this  collection  of  poems,  the  reader  will  find  thofe  qualities  of  fancy,  tendernefs,  and  fometimes 
fublimity  in  the  thoughts,  of  elegance,  and  often  force  in  the  language,  which  characterize  the  ge 
nuine  productions  of  the  poetical  talent.  One  other  praife,  which  the  good  will  value,  belongs  to 
thofe  poems  in  a  high  degree ;  they  breathe  the  pureft  fpirit  of  piety,  virtue,  and  benevolence. 
Thefe  indeed  are  the  mufes  of  Blacklock ;  they  infpire  his  poetry,  as  they  animated  his  life  ;  and  he 
never  approaches  the  facred  ground  on  which  they  dwell,  without  an  expanfion  of  mind,  and  an 
elevation  of  language. 

"  The  additional  poems,  now  firft  publiihed  in  this  volume,  will,  I  think  be  found  to  poficfs  equal 
merit  with  thofe  which  their  author  formerly  gave  to  the  world.  There  is  perhaps  a  certain  de 
gree  of  languor  diffufed  over  fome  of  them,  written  during  the  latter  period  of  his  life,  for  which 
the  circumftances  I  have  mentioned  above  may  account ;  but  the  delicacy  and  the  feeling  remain 
undiminiflicd  :  One  of  thofe  later  poems,  the  OJe  to  Aurtra,  an  McliffJt  Birtb-Day,  is  a  compli 
ment  and  tribute  of  affection  to  the  tender  affiduity  of  an  excellent  wife,  which  I  have  not  any 
where  feen  more  happily  conceived  or  more  elegantly  expreffed. 

"  His  peculiar  fuuation  I  do  not  mean  to  plead  as  an  apology  for  defects  in  his  compofitioni.  I 
am  fufficiently  aware  of  a  truth  which  authors  or  their  apologias  are  apt  to  forget,  that  the  public 
expects  entertainment,  and  liftens  but  ill  to  excufes  for  the  want  of  it.  But  the  circumftance  of  the 
writer's  blindnefs  will  certainly  create  an  intereft  in  his  productiens  beyond  what  thofe  of  one  pof- 
feffed  of  fight  could  have  excited,  efpecially  in  fuch  paffages  of  his  works  as  are  defcriptive  of  vi- 
Cble  objects.  Mr.  Spence  has  treated  this  defcriptive  power,  which  the  poetry  of.  Blacklock 
feemed  to  evince  in  its  author,  as  a  fort  of  problem  which  he  has  illustrated  by  a  very  great  num 
ber  of  quotations  from  the  poems  themfclves,  by  hypothetical  conjectures  of  his  own,  drawn  from 
thofe  paffages,  and  from  the  nature  of  a  blind  man's  fenfations  and  ideas. 

"  Without  detracting  from  the  ingenuity  of  Mr.  Spence's  deductions,  I  am  apt,  in  the  cafe  of 
Blacklock,  to  afcribe  much  to  the  effect  of  a  retentive  and  ready  memory  of  that  poetical  language 
in  which,  from  his  earlieft  infancy,  he  delighted  ;  and  that  apt  appropriation  of  it  which  an  habitual 
acquaintance  with  the  bed  poets  had.  taught  him. 

"  This  I  am  fenfible  by  no  means  affords  a  complete  folution  of  the  difficulty  ;  for  though  it  may 
account  for  the  ufe  which  he  makes  of  poetical  language,  it  throws  no  light  on  his  early  paffion 
for  reading  poetry,  and  poetry  of  a  kind,  too,  which  lies  very  much  within  the  province  of  fight; 
nor  does  it  clearly  trace  the  fource  of  that  pleafure  which  fuch  reading  evidently  conveyed  to  hi* 
mind. 

"  It  is  obferved,  and  I  think  very  juftly,  by  Dr.  Reid,  that  there  is  very  little  of  the  knowledge  ac 
quired  by  thofe  who  fee,  that  may  not  be  communicated  to  a  man  born  blind;  and  he  illufl rates,  hit  re 
mark  by  the  example  of  the  celebrated  Sanderfon.  Another  writer  (Mr.  Burke),  feems  difpofed 
to  extend  a  fimilar  obfervation  to  fome  of  thofe  pltafuret  of  which  the  fenfe  of  fight  is  com 
monly  uiidcrftood  to  be  the  only  channel ;  and  he  appeals,  in  proof  of  his  doctrine,  to  the  poetry 
of  Blacklock :  "  Here  (fays  he)  is  a  poet  doubtlcfs  as  much  affected  by  his  own  defcriptions  as 
any  that  reads  them  can  be ;  and  yet  he  is  affected  with  this  ftrong  enthufiafm,  by  things  of  which 
he  neither  has,  nor  can  poffibly  have  any  idea,  further  than  that  of  a  bare  found."  The  fame  au 
thor  mentions,  as  a  confirmation  of  his  doctrine,  the  fcientific  aquirements  of  Sanderfon,  which  he 
feems  to  think  explicable  on  the  fame  principles  with  Blacklock's  poetry. 

"  But,  in  truth,  there  appears  to  be  very  little  analogy  between  the  two  cafes;  nor  does  the  ge 
nius  of  Sanderfon  furnifii  by  any  means  fo  curious  a  fubject  of  philofophical  difquifition  ae  that  of 
Blacklock.  The  ideas  of  extenfion  and  figure,  about  which  the  fpeculations  of  the  geometer  are 
employed,  may  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  by  the  fenfe  of  touch  as  well  as  by  that  of  fight :  and  (if 
•we  except  the  phenomena  of  colour)  the  cafe  is  the  fame  with  all  the  fubje<3s  cf  our  reafoning  in 


THE  LIFE  OF  BLACKLOCK. 

natural  phiiofophy.  But  of  the  pleafures  which  poetry  excites,  fo  great  a  proportion  arifes  from 
allufions  to  vifiblc  objects,  and  from  defcriptions  of  the  beauty  and  fublimity  of  nature;  fo  much 
truth  is  there  in  the  maxim,  "  ut  pictura  poefis,"  that  the  word  imagination,  which  in  its  prima 
ry  fenfe  has  a  direct  reference  to  the  eye,  is  employed  to  exprefs  that  power  of  the  mind,  which  is 
confidered  as  peculiarly  characteriftic  of  poetical  genius ;  and  therefore,  whatever  be  the  degree  of 
pleafure  which  the  blind  poet  receives  from  the  exercife  of  his  art,  the  pleafure  mud,  in  general, 
be  perfectly  different  in  kind  from  that  which  he  imparts  to  his  readers. 

"  Sanderfon,  we  are  told,  though  blind,  could  lecture  on  the  prifmatic  fpeflrum •,  and  on  the  theory 
of  the  rainbow ;  but  to  his  mind  the  names  of  the  different  colours  were  merely  fignificant  of  the  re 
lative  arrangement  of  the  fpaces  which  they  occupied,  and  produced  as  little  effect  on  his  imagina 
tion  as  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  which  he  employed  in  his  geometrical  diagrams.  By  means  of 
a  retentive  memory,  it  might  have  been  poflible  for  him  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  common 
poetical  epithets,  appropriated  to  the  different  colours  :  it  is  even  conceivable,  that  by  long  habits 
of  poetical  reading,  he  might  have  become  capable  of  producing  fuch  a  defcription  of  their  order  in 
tiieffeflrum,  as  is  contained  in  the  following  lines  of  Thomfon : 

Firft  the  flaming  red 

Sprung  vivid  forth ;  the  tawney  orange  next, 
And  next  delicious  yellow  ;  by  whofe  fide 
Fell  the  kind  beams  of  all-refrefliing  green  : 
Then  the  pure  blue,  that  fwells  autumnal  Ikies, 
Etherial  play'd  ;   and  then  of  fadder  hue 
Emerg'd  the  deepen'd  indico,  as  when 
The  heavy-flcirted  evening  droops  with  froft  ; 
While  the  laft  gleamings  of  refracted  light ' 
Dy'd  in  the  fainting  violet  away. 

"  But  fuppofing  all  this  poflible,  how  different  muft  have  been  the  effect  of  the  defcription  on 
his  mind  from  what  it  produced  on  that  of  Thomfon  ?  or  what  idea  could  he  form  of  the  rapture 
which  the  poet  felt  in  recalling  to  his  imagination  the  innumerable  appearances  in  the  earth  and 
heavens,  of  which  the  philofophic  principles  he  referred  to  afford  the  explanation  ? 

Did  ever  poet  image  aught  fo  fair, 
Dreaming  in  whifp'ring  groves,  by  the  hoarfe  brook; 
Or  prophet  to  whofe  rapture  heav'n  defcends ! 
Even  now  the  Celling  fun  and  (hifting  clouds 
Seen,  Greenwich,  from  thy  lovely  heights,  declare, 
How  juft,  how  beauteous,  the  refractive  law. 

"  Yet,  though  it  be  evidently  impofiible  that  a  defcription  of  this  fort,  relating  entirely  to  the 
peculiar  perceptions  of  fight,  (hould  convey  to  a  blind  man  the  fame  kind  of  pleafure  which  we  re 
ceive  from  it,  it  may  be  eafily  imagined,  that  the  fame  words,  which  in  their  ordinary  acceptation, 
exprefs  vifible  objects,  may,  by  means  of  early  affociations,  become  to  fuch  a  perfon  the  vehicle  of 
many  other  agreeable  or  difagreeable  emotions.  Thefe  affociations  will  probably  vary  greatly  in 
the  cafe  of  different  individuals,  according  to  the  circumftances  of  their  education,  and  the  peculiar 
bent  of  their  genius.  Blacklock's  affociations  in  regard  to  colours,  were  (according  to  his  own 
account)  chiefly  of  the  moral  kind— But  into  this  inquiry,  which  opens  a  wide  field  of  fpeculation  to 
the  metaphyfician,  I  do  not  mean  to  enter.  I  fliall  content  myfelf  with  remarking,  that  in  other 
arts,  as  well  as  thofe  which  addrefs  thcmfelves  to  fight,  the  fame  diftinction  is  to  be  found.  What 
may  be  termed  the  arithmetic  and  mathematics  of  mufic  and  of  the  fcale,  depend  not  on  a  mufical 
ear,  any  more  than  the  theory  of  vifion  depends  on  fight.  In  both  cafes,  pleafure  and  feeling 
are  eafily  diftinguiihable  from  knowledge  and  fcience  ;  the  firft  require,  and  cannot  exift  without 
an  eye  for  colour,  and  an  ear  for  found ;  the  laft  are  independent  of  either. 

"  It  is  indeed  the  boaft  of  genius  to  do  much  on  fcanty  materials,  to  create  and  "  body  forth  the 
forms  of  things,"  to  give  character  to  what  it  has  not  known,  and  picture  to  what  it  has  not  fecn. 
The  genius  of  Shakfpeare  has  entered  into  the  cabinets  of  ftatefmen,  and  the  palaces  of  kings,  and 
made  them  fyeaklikc  ftatefmen  and  like  kings.  It  has  given  manners  as  well  as  language  to  imaginary 


THE  LIFE   OF   BLACKLOCK.  1163 

beings,  which,  though  we  cannot  criticife  l;kc  the  other,  every  one  intuitively  ov.-ns  true.  It  has 
kindled  the  wizards  fire,  and  trimmed  "  the  fairy's  glow-worm  lamp ;"  has  moulded  a  Caliban's 
favage  form,  and  fpun  the  light  down  of  an  Ariel's  wing.  But  this  imaginative  power,  how  ex- 
tenfive  and  wonderful  foever  Jts  range,  had  ftill  fome  element;  from  which  it  could  raifc  this 
world  of  fancy,  fome  analogies  from  which  its  ideas  could  be  drawn.  To  the  bhnd  no  degree 
of  genius  can  fupply  the  want  of  thefe  with  regard  to  vifible  objects,  nor  teach  them  that  enrrely 
diftin<ft  fpecies  of  perception  which  belongs  to  fight.  "  Objects  of  fight  and  touch  (fays  Berkeley 
veryjuflly)  conftitute  two  worlds,  which,  though  nearly  connected,  bear  no  refcmblance  to  one 
another." 

"  If  we  do  not  aflign  to  Blacklock  any  extraordinary,  or  what  might  be  termed  preternatu 
ral  conception  «f  vifible  objects,  yet  we  may  fairly  claim  for  h  m  a  fingular  felicity  of  combination 
in  his  ufe  of  the  espreffions  by  which  thofe  objrdls  are  diftinguiflied. 

"  Whatever  idea  or  imj  reffion  thofe  objects  of  fight  produced  in  his  mind,  how  imperfect  foeTer 
that  idea,  or  how  different  foever  from  the  true,  ftill  the  impreffion  would  be  felt  by  a  mind  fuf- 
ceptible  and  warm  like  Blacklock's,  that  could  not  have  been  fo  felt  by  one  of  a  coarfer  and  more 
fluggifti  mold.  Even  the  memory  that  could  treafure  up  the  poetical  attributes  and  expreflions  of 
fuch  objects,  muft  have  been  affifted  and  prompted  by  poetical  feeling;  and  the  very  catalogue  of 
words  which  was  thus  ready  at  command,  was  an  indication  of  that  ardour  of  foul,  which,  from 
his  infancy,  led  him 

Where 'the  mufes  haunt 
Sm:t  with  the  love  of  facred  fong  ; 

as  the  unmeaning  fyllables  wh;ch  compofe  a  name  give  to  the  lover  or  the  friend,  emotions  which 
others  in  it  were  impofiible  they  fliould  excite." 

The  following  unbiaffed  decifion  of  an  ingenious  foreigner  ia  his  favour,  on  confidering  his  po 
ems,  relatively  to  his  fituation,  merits  particular  attention,  as  it  is  not  liable  to  the  fufpicion  of  par 
tiality. 

«  Blaoklock,"  fays  Profeffor  Denina,  in  his  "  Eflay  on  the  Revolutions  of  Literature,"  to  pofte- 
rity  will  feem  a  fable,  as  to  the  prefent  age  he  is  a  prodigy.  It  will  be  thought  a  fiction,  that  a 
man  blind  from  his  infancy,  befides  having  acquired  a  furprifing  knowledge  of  Greek,  Latin,  Ita 
lian,  and  French,  fhould,  at  the  fame  time,  be  a  great  poet ;  and,  without  having  almoil  ever  fcc» 
the  light,  would,  notwithftanding,  be  Angularly  happy  in  his  defcription*.'' 


• 


THE  WORKS  OF  BLACKLOCK. 


POEMS. 


HORACE,  ODE  I.  IMITATED. 

INSCRIBED  TO 

DR.  JOHN  STEVENS»N,  PHYSICIAN  IN 
EDINBURGH. 

O  THOU,  whofe  goodnefs  unconfin'd 
Extends  its  wifh  to  human  kind  ; 
By  whofe  indulgence  I  afpire 
To  ftrike  the  fweet  Horatian  lyre : 

There  are  who,  on  th'  Olympic  plain, 
Delight  the  chariot's  fpeed  to  rein  ; 
Involv'd  in  glorious  duft  to  roll ; 
To  turn  with  glowing  wheel  the  goal ; 
Who  by  repeated  trophies  rife, 
And  (hare  with  gods  their  pomp  and  fkies. 
This  man,  if  changeful  crowds  admire, 
Fermented  ev'n  to  mad  defire, 
Their  fool  or  villain  to  elate 
To  all  the  honours  of  the  ftate; 
That,  if  his  granary  fecures 
\Vhate'er  th'  autumnal  fun  matures, 
Pleas'd  his  paternal  field  to  plow, 
Remote  from  each  ambitious  view ; 
Vaft  India's  wealth  would  bribe  in  vain, 
To  launch  the  bark,  and  cut  the  main. 

The  merchant,  while  the  weftern  breeze 
Ferments  to  rage  th'  Icarian  feas, 
Urg'd  by  th'  impending  hand  of  fate, 
Extols  to  heav'n  his  country-feat : 
Its  fweet  retirement,  fearlefs  eafe, 
The  fields,  the  air,  the  dreams,  the  trees ; 
Yet  fits  the  fhatter'd  bark  again, 
Refolv'd  to  brave  the  tumid  main, 
Kefolv'd  all  hazards  to  endure, 
Nor  -fhun  a  plague,  but  to  be  poor. 

One  with  the  free,  the  gen'rous  bowl, 
Abforbs  his  cares,  and  warms  his  foul: 
Now  wrapt  in  eafe,  fupinely  laid 
Beneath  the  myrtle's  am'rous  (hade ; 
Now  where  fome  facred  fountain  flows, 
Whofe  cadeace  foft  invites  repofe  ; 
While  half  the  fultry  fummer's  day 
On  iiient  pinions  deals  away. 


Some  bofoms  boaft  a  nobler  flame, 
In  fields  of  death  to  toil  for  fame, 
In  war's  grim  front  to  tempt  their  fate ; 
Curft  war  !  which  brides  and  mothers  hate  ; 
As  in  each  kindling  hero's  fight 
Already  glows  the  promis'd  fight ; 
Their  hearts  with  more  than  tranfport  bound* 
While  drums  and  trumpets  mix  their  found. 

Unmindful  of  his  tender  wife, 
And  ev'ry  home-felt  blifs  of  life, 
The  huntfman  in  th*  unflielter'd  plains, 
Heav'n's  whole  inclemency  fuftains  ; 
Now  fcales  the  fteepy  mountain's  fide, 
Now  tempts  the  torrent's  headlong  tide  ; 
Whether  his  faithful  hounds  in  view, 
With  fpeed  fome  timid  prey  purfue  i 
Or  fome  fell  monfter  of  the  wood 
At  once  his  hopes  and  fnares  elude. 

Good  to  beftow,  like  Heav'n,  is  thine, 
Concurring  in  one  great  defign  ; 
To  cool  the  fever's  burning  rage, 
To  knit  the  feeble  nerves  of  age  ; 
To  bid  young  health,  with  pleafure  crowttM, 
In  rofy  luftre  fmile  around. 

My  humbler  function  (hall  I  name  ; 
My  fole  delight,  my  higheft  aim  ? 
Infpir'd  through  breezy  (hades  to  (tray, 
Where  choral  nymphs  and  graces  play ; 
Above  th'  unthinking  herd  to  foar, 
Who  fink  forgot,  and  are  no  more  ; 
To  fnatch  fr«m  fate  an  honeft  fame, 
Is  all  I  hope,  and  all  I  claim. 
If  to  my  vows  Euterpe  deign 
The  Doric  reed's  mellifluent  drain, 
Nor  Polyhymnia,  darling  mufe  ! 
To  tune  the  Le(bian  harp  refufe. 
But,  if  you  rank  me  with  the  choir, 
Who  touch,  with  happy  hand,  the  lyre  ; 
Exulting  to  the  (tarry  frame, 
Sudain'd  by  all  the  wings  of  fame, 
With  bays  adorn'd  I  then  (hall  foar, 
Obfcure,  deprefs'd,  and  fcorn'd  no  more ; 
While  envy,  vairffy  merit's  foe, 
With  fable  wings  (hall  flag  below ; 


1166 


THE  WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK. 


And,  doomM  to  breathe  a  groffer  air, 
To  reach  my  glorious  height,  defpair. 

PSALM  I.  IMITATED. 

How  Weft  the  man,  how  more  than  bleft  ! 

Whofe  heart  no  guilty  thoughts  employ  ; 
Cod's  endlefs  funfliine  tills  his  breaft., 

And  fmiling  confcience  whiipers  peace  and  joy. 

Fair  rectitude's  unerring  way 

His  heav'n-conduaed  fteps  purfue  ; 

While  crowds  in  guilt  and  error  ftray, 

Unftain'd  his  foul,  and  undeceiv'd  his  view. 

While,  with  unmeaning  laughter  gay, 

Scorn  on  her  throne  erected  high, 
Emits  a  falfe  delufive  ray, 

To  catch  th'  aftomfli'd  gaze  of  folly's  eye; 

Peep  in  herfelf  his  foul  retir'd, 

Unmov'd,  beholds  the  meteor  blaze, 

And,  with  all-perfecl  beauty  fir'd, 

Nature,  and  nature's  God,  intent  furveys. 

Him  from  high  heav'n,  her  native  feat, 

Eternal  wifdom's  felf  infpires; 
"While  he,  with  purpofe  fix'd  as  fate, 

Purfues  her  didates,  and  her  charms  admires. 

In  funfliine  mild,  and  temp'rate  air. 
Where  ibtrie  refreshing  fountain  flows, 

So  nurs'd  by  nature's  tend'reft  care, 

A  lofty  tree  with  autumn's  treafure  glows. 

Around  its  boughs  the  furamer  gale 
With  pleafure  waves  the  genial  wing; 

There  no  unfriendly  colds  prevail, 

To  chill  the  vigour  of  its  endlefs  fpring. 

Amid  its  hofpitable  fliade 

Heav'ns  fweeteft  warblers  tune  the  lay  ; 
Nor  (hall  its  honours  ever  fade, 

Nor  immature  its  plenteous  fruit  decay. 

By  God's  almighty  arm  fuftain'd, 

Thai  virtue  loon  or  late  (hail  rife  ; 
Enjoy  her  conqueft,  nobly  gain'd, 

And  ftiare  immortal  triumph  in  the  fkies. 

But  fools,  to  facred  wifdom  blind, 

Who  vice's  tempting  call  obey, 
A  diff  rent  fate  lhall  quickly  find, 

To  every  roaring  ftorm  aa  eai'y  prey. 

Thus  when  the  warring  winds  arife, 

With  all  their  lawlefs  fury  driv'n, 
Light  Chaff  or  duft  inceffant  flies, 

Whirl'd  in  fwift  eddies  through  the  vault  of 
heav'n. 

When  in  tremendous  pomp  array'd, 

Defcending  from  the  op'ning  fky, 
With  full  omnipotence  difplay'd, 

Her  God  lhall  call  on  nature  to  reply: 

Then  vice,  with  fliame  and  grief  deprefs-'d, 

Tranfix'd  with  horror  and  defpair, 
Shall  feel  hell  kindling  in  her  breaft. 

Nor  to  her  judge  prefer  her  trembling  pray'r : 


For  with  a  father's  fond  regsfc?, 

To  blii's  he  views  fair  virtue  tenc? ; 
WTiile  vice  obtains  her  juft  reward, 

And  all  her  paths  in  deep  perdition  end. 

AN  HYMN  TO  THE  SUPREME  BEING, 

IN  IMITATIOX  OF  THE  CIV.  PSALM.  . 

Quid  prius  dicam  folitis  parentis 
Laudibus?  qui  reshominum  ac  deorum, 
(£ui  mare  et  terras,  variifque  muBdum 
Temperat  horis  ?  HOR. 

ARISE,  my  foul,  on  wings  feraphic  rife, 
And  praife  th'  Almighty  Sov'reign  of  the  Ikies ; 
In  whom  alone  eflential  glory  fhines, 
Which  not  the  heav'n  of  heav'r.s,  nor  boundlefs 
fpace  confines. 

When  darknefs  rul'd  with  univerfal  fway, 
He  fpoke,  and  kindled  up  the  blaze  of  day  ; 
Firft,  faireft  offspring  of  the  omnific  word  ! 
Which,  like  a  garment, cloth'd  its  fovereign  Lord. 
On  liquid  air  he  bade  the  columns  rife, 
That  prop  the  ftarry  concave  of  the  fkies  ; 
Diffus'd  the  blue  expanfe  from  pole  to  pole, 
And  fpread  circumfluent  ether  round  the  whole. 

Soon  as  he  bids  impetuous  tempefts  fly, 
To  wing  his  founding  chariot  through  the  Iky  ; 
Impetuous  tempefts  the  command  obey, 
Suftain  his  flight,  and  fweep  the  aerial  way. 
Fraught  with  his  mandates,  from  the  realms  on 

high, 

Unnumber'd  hofts  of  radiant  heralds  fly 
From  orb  to  orb,  with  progreis  unconiin'd, 
As  lightning  fwift,  refiltlel's  as  the  wind. 

In  ambient  air  this  pond'rous  ball  he  hung, 
And  bade  its  centre  reft  forever  ftrong ; 
Heav'n,  air,  and  lea,,  with  all  their  ftorras,  in 

vain 
Afiauljt  the  bafis  of  the  firm  machine. 

At  thy  almighty  voice  old  ocean  raves, 
Wakes  all  his  force,  arid  gathers  all  his  waves; 
Nature  lies  mantled  in  a  wat'ry  robe, 
And  fhorelels  billows  revel  round  the  globe  ; 
O'er  higheft  hills  the  higher  furgesrife, 
Mix  with  the  clouds,  and  meet  the  fluid  fkies. 
But  when  in  thunder  the  rebuke  was  giv'n. 
That  fhook  th'  eternal  firmament^f  heav'n  ; 
The  grand  tebuke  th'  affrighted  waves  obey, 
And  in  confufion  fcour  their  uncouth  way  ; 
And  porting  rapid  to  the  place  decreed, 
Wind  down  the   hills,  and   fweep  the   humble 

mead. 

Reludlant  in  their  bounds  the  waves  fubfide ; 
The  bounds,  impervious  to  the  lafliing  tide, 
Reftrain  its  rage;  whilft,  with  inceffant  roar, 
It  lhakes  the  caverns,  and  aflaults  the  fliore. 

By  him,  from  mountains  cloth'd  in  lucid  fnow, 
Through  fertile  vales  the  mazy  rivers  riow. 

Here  the  wild  horfe,  unconfcious  of  the  rein, 
'.  That  revels  boundlefs  o'er  the  wide  campaign, 
i  Imbibes  the  filver  furge,  with  heat  oppreft, 
i  To  cool  the  ftvcr  of  his  glowing  breaft.  - 


POEMS. 


1167 


Here  riling  boughs,    adorn'd    with    Cummer's 

pride, 

Project  their  waving  umbrage  o'er  the  tide  ; 
While,  gently  perching  on  the  leafy  fpray, 
Each  feather'd  warbler  tunes  his  various  lay  : 
And,  while  thy  praife  they  fymphonize  around, 
Creation  echoes  to  the  grateful  found. 
Wide  o'er  the  heav'ns  the  various  bow  he  bends, 
Its  tin&ures  brightens,  and  its  arch  extends: 
At  the  glad  fign  the  airy  conduits  flow, 
Soften  the  hills,  and  cheer  the  meads  below : 
By  genial  fervour  and  prolific  rain, 
Swift  vegitation  clothes  the  fmiling  plain  : 
Nature,  profufely  good,  with  blifs  o'erflows, 
And  itill  is  pregnant,  though  me  ftill  beftows. 

Here  verdant  paftures  wide  extended  lie, 
And  yield  the  grazing  herd  exuberant  fupply. 
Luxuriant  waving  in  the  wanton  air, 
Here  golden  grain  rewards  the  peafaat's  care  : 
Here  vines  mature  with  frefh  carnation  glow, 
And  heav'n  above  diffufes  heav'n  below. 
Kredl  and  tall  here  mountain  cedars  rife, 
Wave  in  the  ftarry  vault,  and  emulate  the  fkies. 
Here  the  wing'd  crowd,  that  (kirn  the  yielding  -i 


j 

w,          > 

ing  foe.  J 


lafe  f 


With  artful  toil  their  little  domes  prepare  ; 
Here  hatch  their  tender  young,  and  nurfe  their  I 
rifmg  care.  J 

Up  the  fteep  hill  afcends  the  nimble  doe 
While  timid  conies  fcour  the  plains  belo 
Or  in  the  pendant  rock  elude  the  fcenting  f< 

He  bade  the  filver  majefty  of  night 
Revolve  her  circles,  and  increafe  her  light ; 
Aflign'd  a  province  to  each  rolling  fphere, 
And  taught  the  fun  to  regulate  the  year. 
At  his  command,  wide  hov'ring  o'er  the  plain, 
Primaeval  night  refumes  her  gloomy  reign  : 
Then  from  their  dens,  impatient  of  delay, 
The  favage  monfters  bend  their  fpeedy  way 
Howl  through  the  fpacious  walle,  and  chafe 

their  frighted  prey. 

Here  (talks  the  fhaggy  monarch  of  the  wood, 
Taught  from  thy  providence  to  afk  his  food  : 
To  thee,  O  Father,  to  thy  bounteous  fkies, 
He  rears  his  mane,  and  rolls  his  glaring  eyes ; 
He  roars;  the  defert  trembles  wide  around, 
And  repercuffive  hills  repeat  the  found. 

Now  orient  gems  the  eaftern  fkies  adorn, 
And  joyful  nature  hails  the  op'ning  morn; 
The  rovers,  confcious  of  approaching  day, 
Vly  to  their  fhelters,  and  forget  their  prey. 
Laborious  man,  with  raod'rate  (lumber  bleft, 
Springs  cheerful  to  his  toil  from  downy  reft  ; 
Till  grateful  evening,  with  her  argent  train, 
Bid  labour  ceafe,  and  cafe  the  weary  fwain. 

"  Hail !  fov'reign  goodnefs,  all-productive  mind! 
"  On  all  thy  works  thyfelf  infcrib'd  ive  find  : 
*'  How  various  all,  how  varioufly  endow'd, 
"  How  great  their  number,  and  each  part  how 

•'  good  ! 

"•  How  perfect  then  mud  the  great  Parent  fhine,") 
"  Who,  with  one  act  of  energy  divine,  i. 

'*  Laid  the  va(t  plan,  r.r.d  fmifh'd  the  dcfign !"  _) 


Wher-e'er   the   pleafing  fearch   my   thoughts 

purfue, 

Unbounded  go«dnefs  rifes  to  my  view; 
Nor  docs  our  world  alone  its  influence  (hare ; 
Exhauftlefs  bounty,  and  unwearied  care 
Extends  through  all  th'  infinitude  of  fpace, 
And  circles  Nature  with  a  kind  embrace. 

The  azure  kingdoms  of  the  deep  below, 
Thy  pow'r,  thy  wifdom,  and  thy  goodnefs  fliow: 
Here  multitudes  of  various  beings  ftray, 
Crowd  the  profound,  or  on  the  furface  play: 
Tall  navies  here  their  doubtful  way  explore, 
And  ev'ry  product  waft  from  ev'ry  fhore  ; 
Hence  meagre  want  expell'd,and  fanguine  llrife, 
For  the  mild  charms  of  cultivated  life  ; 
Hence  focial  union  fpreads  from  foul  to  foul, 
And  India  joins  in  friendfhip  with  the  pole. 
Here  the  huge  potent  of  the  fcaly  train 
Enormous  fails  incumbent  o'er  the  main, 
An  animated  ifle  ;  and  in  his  way, 
Dafhes  to  heav'n's  blue  arch  the  foamy  fea  : 
When  fkies  and  ocean  mingle  ftorm  and  flame, 
Portending  inftant  wreck  to  nature's  frame, 
Pleas'd  in  the  fccne,  he  mocks,  with  confcious 

pride, 

The  volley'd  light'ning,  and  the  furging  tide; 
And,  while  the  wrathful  elements  engage, 
Foments  with  horrid  fport  the  tempeft's  rage. 
All  thefe  thy  watchful  providence  fupplies, 
To  thte  alone  tkey  turn  their  waiting  eyes ; 
For  them  thou  open'ft  thy  exhauftlels  ftore, 
Till  the  capacious  wifh  can  grafp  no  more. 

But,  if  one  moment  thou  thy  face  fhould'ft  hide, 
Thy  glory  clouded,  or  thy  fmiles  denyM, 
Then  widow'd  nature  veils  her  mournful  eyes, 
And  vents  her  grief  in  univerfal  cries: 
Then  gloomy  death  with  all  his  meagre  train, 
Wide  o'er  the  nations  fpreads  his  difmal  reign; 
Sea,  earth,  and  air,  the  boundlefs  ravage  mourn. 
And  all  their  hofts  to  native  dnft  return. 

But  when  again  thy  glory  isdifplay'd, 
Reviv'd  creation  lifts  her  cheerful  head ; 
New  rifing  forms  thy  potent  fmiles  obey, 
And  life  rekindles  at  the  genial  ray  : 
United  thanks  replenifh'd  nature  pays, 
And  heav'n  and  earth  refound  their  maker's  praife. 

When  lime  fhall  in  eternity  be  loft. 
And  hoary  nature  languiih  into  duft; 
For  ever  young  thy  glory  fhall  remain, 
Vail  as  thy  being,  endlefs  as  thy  reign. 
Thou,  from  the  regions  of  eternal  day, 
View'fl.  all  thy  works  at  one  immerife  furvey : 
Pleas'd.  thou  bchold'ft  the  whole  propenfely  tend 
To  perfect  happiucfs,  its  glorious  end. 

If  thou  to  earth  but  turn  thy  wrathful  eyes, 
Her  bafis  trembles,  and  her  offspring  dies. 
Thou  fmit'ft  the  hills,  and,  at  th'  Almighty  blow, 
Their  fummits  kindle,  and  their  inwards  glow. 

While  this  immortal  fpark  of  heav'nly  flame 
Di (lends  my  bread,  and  animates  my  frame ; 
To  thec  my  ardent  praifcs  fhall  be  borne 
On  the  firft  breeze  that  wakes  the  blufhing  morn : 
The  latefl  ftar  (hall  hear  the  pleating  found, 
And  nature  in  full  choir  fhall  join  around. 
When  full  of  thee  my  foul  cxcurfive  flies 
Through  air,  earth,  ocean,  or  thy  regal  fkies ; 
From  world  to  \vorld,  new  wonders  ftill  I  find, 
Ar.l  all  the  Godhead  flufhcs  on  my  mind. 


THE   WORKS   OF   BLACKLOCK. 


When,  wing'd  with  whirlwinds,  Vice  fhall  take  its 

flight 

To  the  deep  bofom  of  eternal  night, 
To  thee  my  foul  fliall  endlefs  praifes  pay: 
Join,  men  and  angels,  join  th'  exalted  lay! 

PSALM  CXXXIX.    IMITATED. 

ME,  O  my  God  !  thy  piercing  eye, 

In  motion,  or  at  reft,  furveys; 
If  to  the  lonely  couch  I  fly, 

Or  travel  through  frequented  ways ; 
Where'er  I  move,  thy  boundlefs  reign, 
Thy  mighty  prefence,  circles  all  the  fcene. 

Where  fhall  my  thoughts  from  thee  retire, 
Whofe  view  pervades  my  inmoft  heart ! 

The  latent,  kindling,  young  defire, 
The  word,  ere  from  my  lips  it  part, 

To  thee  their  various  forms  difplay, 

And  fliine  reveal'd  in  thy  unclouded  day. 

Behind  me  if  I  turn  my  eyes, 

Or  forward  bend  my  wand'ring  Cght, 

Whatever  objects  round  me  rife 

Through  the  wide  fields  of  air  and  light ; 

With  thee  imprefs'd,  each  various  frame 

The  forming,  moving,  prefent  God  proclaim. 

Father  of  all,  omnifcient  mind, 

Thy  wifdom  who  can  comprehend  ? 

Its  higheft  point  what  eye  can  find, 
Or  to  its  loweft  depths  defcend  ? 

That  wifdom,  which,  ere  things  began, 

Saw  full  expreft  th*  all-comprehending  plan  ! 

What  cavern  deep,  what  hill  fublime, 

Beyond  thy  reach,  mail  I  purfue  ? 
What  dark  recefs,  what  diflant  clime, 

Shall  hide  me  from  thy  diftant  view  ? 
Where  from  thy  fpirit  fhall  I  fly, 
Diffufive,  vital,  felt  through  earth  and  fky  ? 

If  up  to  heav'n's  ethereal  height, 

1'hy  profpecl  to  elude,  I  rife ; 
In  fplendour  there,  feverely  bright, 

Thy  prefence  mail  my  fight  furprife : 
There,  beaming  from  their  fource  divine, 
In  full  meridian,  light  and  beauty  fhine. 

Beneath  the  pendant  globe  if  laid, 

If  plung'd  in  hell's  abyfs  profound, 
I  call  on  night's  impervious  ihade 

To  fprcad  eflential  blacknefs  round ; 
Confpicuous  to  thy  wide  furvey, 
Ev'n  hell's  grim  horrors  kindle  into  day. 

Thee,  mighty  God !  my  wond'ring  foul, 
Thee,  all  her  confcious  powers  adore ; 

Whofe  being  circumfcribes  the  whole, 
Whofe  eyes  its  utmoft  bounds  explore : 

Alike  illum'd  by  native  light, 

Amid  the  fun's  full  blaze,  or  gloom  of  night. 

If  through  the  fields  of  ether  borne, 

The  living  winds  my  flight  fuftain ; 
If  on  the  rofy  wings  of  morn, 

I  feek  the  diftant  weftern  main ; 
There,  O  my  God  !  thou  (till  art  found, 
Thy  pow'r  upholds  me,  and  thy  arms  furround. 


Thy  eflence  fills  this  breathing  frame, 

It  glows  in  ev'ry  confcious  part ; 
Lights  up  my  foul  with  livelier  flame, 

And  feeds  with  life  my  beating  heart : 
Unfelt  along  my  veins  it  glides, 
And  through  their  mazes  rolls  the  purple  tides. 

While  in  the  filent  womb  enclos'd, 

A  growing  embryo  yet  I  lay, 
Thy  hand  my  various  parts  difpos'd, 

Thy  breath  infus'd  life's  genial  ray ; 
Till,  finifh'd  by  thy  wond'rous  plan, 
I  rofe  the  dread,  majeftic  form  of  man. 

To  thee,  from  whom  my  being  came, 
Whofe  fmile  is  all  the  heav'n  I  know, 

Replete  with  all  my  wond'rous  theme, 
To  thee  my  votive  ftrains  fliall  flow  : 

Great  Archetype !  who  firft  defign'd, 

Expreffive  of  thy  glory,  humankind. 

Who  can  the  ftars  of  heav'n  explore, 

The  flow'rs  that  deck  the  verdant  plain, 

Th'  unnumber'd  fands  that  form  the  fhore, 
The  drops  that  fwell  the  fpacious  main  ? 

Let  him  thy  wonders  publifh  round, 

Till  earth  and  heav'n's  eternal  throne  refound. 

As  fubterraneous  flames  confin'd, 

From  earth's  dark  womb  impetuous  rife, 

The  conflagration,  fann'd  by  wind, 
Wraps  realms,  and  blazes  to  the  flcies : 

In  lightning's  flafh,  and  thunder's  roar, 

Thus  vice  fhall  feel  the  tempeft  of  thy  pow'r. 

Fly  then,  as  far  as  pole  from  pole. 

Ye  fons  of  flaughter,  quick  retire  ; 
At  whofe  approach  my  kindling  foul 

Awakes  to  unextinguifli'd  ire  : 
Fly ;  nor  provoke  the  thunder's  aim, 
You,  who  in  fcorn  pronounce  th'  Almighty's  name. 

The  wretch  who  dares  thy  pow'r  defy, 

And  on  thy  vengeance  loudly  call, 
On  him  not  pity's  melting  eye, 

Nor  partial  favour,  e'er  mall  fall : 
Still  fhall  thy  foes  be  mine,  ftill  {hare 
Unpity'd  torture,  and  unmix'd  defpair. 

Behold,  O  God !  behold  me  ftand,    - 

And  to  thy  ftridt  regard  difclofe 
Whate'er  was  acted  by  my  hand, 

Whate'er  my  inmoft  thoughts  propofe : 
If  Vice  indulg'd  their  candour  ftain, 
Be  all  my  portion  bitternefs  and  pain. 

But,  O  !  if  nature,  weak  and  frail, 
To  ftrong  temptations  oft  give  way; 

If  doubt,  or  paflion,  oft  prevail 

O'er  wand'ring  reafon's  feeble  ray; 

Let  not  thy  frowns  my  fault  reprove, 

But  guide  thy  creature  with  a  father's  love. 

AN  HYMN  TO  DIVINE  LOVE. 

IN    IMITATION    OF    SPENSER. 

No  more  of  lower  flames,  whofe  pleafing  rage 
With  fighs  and  foft  complaints  I  weakly  fed ; 
At  whofe  unworthy  (brine,  my  budding  age, 
And  willing  mufe,  their  firft  devotion  paid. 
Fly,  nurfe  of  madnefs,  to  eternal  fljadc : 


POEMS. 

1fzr  from  my  foul  abjur'd  and  banifli'd  fly, 
And  yield  to  nobler  firts,  that  lilt  die  foul  more 
high. 


*Zl 


O  love  !  coeval  with  thy  parent  God, 
To  thee  1  knerl.  thy  prt'feiu  aid  implore; 
At  whofe  celeltial  voice  and  pow'rful  nod 
Old  difcord  iled,  and  chaos  ceas'd  to  roar, 
.Light  fmird,  and  order  rofe,  uiifeen  before, 
But  in  the  plan  of  the  eternal  mind, 
When  God  dcfign'd'the  woik,  aud  lov'tl  the 
work  defign'd. 

Thou  fill'dfl  the  waftc  of  ocean,  earth,  and  air, 
With  multitndes  that  fwirn,  or  walk,  or  fly  : 
From  rolling  worlds  defcends  thy  generous  care, 
To  infect  crowds  that  'fcape  the  niceft  eye  : 
For  each  a  Iphere  was  circumlcrib'd  by  thee, 

To  bkfs,  and  to  be  blcfs'd,  their  nobkft  end  ; 

To  which,  with  fpeedy  course,  they  all  unerring 
tend. 

Confcious  of  thee,  with  nobler  pow'rs  endu'd, 
Next  man,  thy  darling,  into  being  rofe, 
Immortal,  form'd  for  high  beatitude, 
Which  neither  end  nor  interruption  knows, 
Till  evil,  couch'd  in  fraud,  began  his  woes  : 
Then  to  thy  aid  was  boundtefs  wifdom  jom'd, 
And  for  apoftate  man  redemption  thus  deiign'd. 

By  thee,  his  glories  veil'd  in  mortal  fhroud, 
God's  darling  offspring  left  his  feat  cm  high  ; 
And  heav'n  andearth,amaz'dandtremhling,view'd 
Their  wounded  Sov'reign  groan,  and  bleed,  and  die. 
By  thee,  in  triumph  to  his  native  iky, 
On  angels  wings,  the  viiftor  God  afpir'd, 
Relenting  juilicc  iiuil'd,  and  frowning  wrath 
retir'd. 

To  thee,  munific,  ever-naming  love? 

One  endlefs  hynlti  united  nature  fings  : 

To  thee  the  bright  inhabitants  above 

Tune  the  glad  voice,    and  i\veep   the   Warbling 

firings. 
From  pole,  to  pole,  on  ever-waving  wings, 

Winds  waft  thy  praife,  by  rolling  planets  tun'd  ; 
Aid  then,  O  Love  I   my  vgice  to  emulate  the 
found. 

It  comes  !  It  comes  !  I  fee!  internal  dsy  ; 
Tiansfufive  wurmth  through  all  my  bofom  glowj; 
My  fo«l  expanding  gives  the  torruit  way  ; 
Through  all  mjr  vans  it  kindles  as  it  flows. 
Thus,  ravifh'dirom  the  fcene  of  night  and  woes, 

Oh  !  fnatch  me,  bear  me  to  thy  happy  reign  ; 

There  teach  my  tongue  thy  praife  in  more  exalt 
' 


AN  HYMN  TO  BENEVOLENCE. 

HAIL  !  fource  of  tranfport  ever  new; 
Whilll  thy  kind  dictates.  1  puifue, 

I  tafte  a  joy  linccre  ; 
Too  vaft  for  little  minds  to  know, 
Who  on  themfelves  alone  beuow 

Their  withes  and  their  care. 

Daughter  of  God!  delight  of  man! 
Jrein  thee  felicity  began  ; 

Which  dill  thy  hand  fiulain*  i 

V«i.  XI. 


By  thee  fweet  Peacs  her  empire  fprc>d, 
Fair  btienee  rais'd  her  laurcl'd  head, 
And  Bifcord  gnalh'd  in  chains. 


Far  as  the  pointed  funbs^n  flies, 
Through  peopled  earth  andj(larry  feits^ 

All  nature  owns  thy  no.i  :  » 
\Ve  fee  thy  energy  prevail 
Through  being's  evcr-nfing  fcale, 
,    from  nothing  ev'n  to  God. 

Envy,  that  tortures  her  own  heart 
With  plagues  and  ever-burning  fmart, 

Thy.  charms  divine  expel  : 
Aghait  flic  fliuts  her  livid  eyes, 
And,  wing'd  with  tenfold  fury,  flie» 

To  native  night  and  hell. 

By  thee  infpir'd,  the  gen'rous  breaft^ 
In  bicffing  others  only  blefl, 

With  goodnels  large  and  free, 
Delimits  the  widow's  tears  to  flay, 
To  teach  'the  blind  their  fmootheil  waya 

And  aid  the  feeble  knee. 

O  corns  !  and  o'er  my  bofom.  reign, 
Expand  my  heart,  inflame  each  vein, 

"1  hrough  e,y'ry  action  fhine; 
Each  low,  each  feliifb,  wifh  controul, 
With  all  thy  effence  warm  my  foul, 

And  make  me  wholly  thine. 

,  Nor  let  fair  Virtue's  mortal  bane, 
The  foul-contracting  thirfl  of  gain, 

My  fainteft  wifhes  fway  ; 
By  htr  pofiefs'd,  ere  hearts  refine, 
In  hell's  dark  depth  fliall  mercy  fliine, 
And  kindle  endlefs  day. 

If  from  thy  facred  paths  I  turn, 

Nor  ieel  their  griefs,  while  others  mourn, 

Nor  with  their  pleafures  glow  : 
Banifii'd  from  God,  from  blifs,  and  thcc, 
Aly  own  tormentor  let  me  be, 

And  groan  in  hopelefs  woe. 

AN  HYMN  TO  FORTITUDE, 


NJGIIT,  brooding  o'er  her  mure  d 
In  awful  filence  wraps  her  reign,  ; 
Clouds  prefs  on  clouds,  and,  as  they  riii» 
Condenfe  tp  foliu  gloom  the  fkics. 

Portentous,  .through  the  loggy  air, 
To  wake  the  da  men  of  defpair,  ' 
The  laven  hourfe,  and  boding  owl, 
To  Hecate  curft  unthenis  howl. 

Intent,  with  execrable  art, 
To  burn  the  veins,  and  tear  the  heart, 
The  witch,  unhallow'd  bones  to  raife, 
Through  fun'ral  vaults  and  charnels  flrays; 
Calls  the  damn'd  (haile  from  ev'ry  cell, 
And  adds  new  labours  to  their  hell. 

And,  fhield  me  Heav'n  i   what  hollow  foundj 
Like  fate's  dread  knell,  runs  echoing  round? 
The  bell  ftrikes  one,  that  magic  hour, 
When  rifing  fiends  exert  their  pow'r. 
And  now,  fure  now,  fjme  caule  unhleft 
Ereathes  more  than  horror  through  mybretftj 
How  deep  the  breeze!   how  dim  ths  lijht! 
\Vhafcfpctfrcf  fwini  btfcie  my  figUt  ! 


THE   WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK. 


My  frozen  limbs  pale  terror  chains, 
And  in  wild  eddies  wheels  my  brains: 
My  icy  blood  forgets  to  roll, 
And  death  ev'n  feems  to  fcize  my  foul. 
What  facred  pow'r,  what  healing  art, 
Shall  bid  my  foul  herfelf  affert; 
Shall  rouze  th'  immortal  active  flame, 
And  teach  her  whence  her,b"ing  came? 

O  Fortitude  f  divinely  bright, 
O  Virtue's  child,  and  man's  delight! 
Defcend,  an  amicable  gueft. 
And  with  thy  firmnefs  fteel  my  breaft  : 
Defcend  propitious  to  my  lays, 
And,  while  my  lyre  refountis  thy  praife, 
With  energy  divinely  ftrong, 
Exalt  my  foul,  and  warm  my  fong. 

When  raving  in  eternal  pains, 
And  loaded  with  ten  th'onfand  chains. 
Vice,  deep  in  Phlcgetoir,  yet  lay, 
Nor  with  her  vifage  blafted  day  ; 
No  fear  to  guiltkfs  man  was  known-, 
For  God  and  Virtue  reign'd  alone. 
J3ut,  when  from  native  flames  and  nigfct, 
The  curfed  monfter  wing'd  her  flight, 
Pale  Fear,  among  her  hideous  train, 
Chas'd  fweet  Contentment  from  her  reign  ; 
Plac'd  death  and  hell  before  each  eye, . 
A  nd  wrapt  in  mill  the  golden  fky ; 
Banifh'd  from  day  each  dear  delight, 
And  fhook  with  confcions  ftarts  the  night. 
When  from  the  imperial  feats  on  high, 
The  Lord  of  nature  turn'd  his  eye 
To  view  the  ftate  of  things  below ; 
Still  bleft  to  make  his  creatures  fo  : 
From  earth  be  faw  Aftrcea  fly, 
And  feek  her  manfions  in  the  fky  ; 
Peace,  crown'd  with  olives,  left  her  throne. 
And  white  rob'd  Trmocencc  was  gone  : 
While  Vice,  reveal'd  in  open  day, 
Sole  tyrant,  rul'd  with  iron  fway  ; 
And  Virtue  veil'd  her  -weeping  charms, 
And  fled  for  refuge  to  his  arms, 
Her  altars  fcorn'd,  her  fhrines  defac'd — 
Whom  thus  th'  effential  Good  addrefs'd: 
"  Thou,  whom  my  foul  adores  alone, 
Effulgent  fharer  of  my  throne, 
Pair  emprefs  of  eternity ! 
Who  uncreated  reign'ft  like  me  ; 
"\Vhom  I,  who  fole  and  boundlefs  fway, 
With  pleafure  infinite  obey  : 
To  yon  diurnal  fcenes  below, 
Who  feel  their  folly  in  their  woe, 
Again  propitious  turn  thy  flight, 
Again  oppofe  yon  tyrant's  might; 
To  earth  thy  cloudlefs  charms  difclofe, 
Revive  thy  friends,  and  blaft  thy  foes : 
Thy  triumphs  man  fhall  raptur'd  fee, 
Act,  fuffer,  live,  and  die  for  thee. 
But  fince  all  crimes  their  hell  contain, 
Since  all  muft  feel  who  merit  pain, 
X,et  Fortitude  thy  fteps  attend, 
And  be,  like  thce,  to  man  a  friend; 
To  urge  him  on  the  arduous  road, 
That  leads  to  virtue,  blifs,  and  God; 
To  blunt  the  fting  of  cv'ry  grkf, 
And  be  to  all  a  near  relief." 

He  faid  ;  and  (he,  with  fmiles  divine, 
Which  made  all  hcav'n  mote  brightly  Ihine, 


To  earth  returned  with  all  her  train, 

brought  the  golden  age  again. 
Since  erring  mortals,  unconftrain'd, 
The  God,  that  warms  their  breaft,  profan'd, 
he,  guardian  of  their  joys  no  more, 
Could  only  leave  them,  and  deplore: 
They,  now  the  eafy  prey  of  pain, 

urft  in  their  wifll,  their  choice  obtairt ; 
Till  arm'd  with  heav'n  and  fate,  flic  came 
rlcr  deflin'd  honours  to  reclaim. 
Vice  and  her  flaves  beheld  her  flight, 
And  fled,  like  birds  obfcene,  from  light, 
Back  to  th'  abode  of  plagues  return, 
To  fin  and  fmart,  blafpheme  and  bum. 

Thou,  goddefs  !  fince,  with  facred  aid, 
Haft  ev'ry  grief  and  pain  allay 'd, 
To  joy  converted  ev'ry  fmart, 
And  plac'd  a  heav'n  in  ev'ry  heart: 
By  thee  we  a<5t,  by  thee  fuftatn, 
Thou  facred  antidote  of  pain  I 
At  thy  great  nod  the  *  Alps  fubfide, 
Reluciant  rivers  turns  their  tide  ; 
With  all  thy  force  Alcides  warm'd, 
His  hand  againft  oppreffion  arm'd: 
By  thee  his  mighty  nerves  were  ftrung, 
By  thee  his  ftrength  for  ever  young ; 
And  whilft  on  brutal  force  he  prefs'd, 
His  vigour,  with  his  foes,  increas'd. 
By  thee,  like  Jove's  almighty  hand, 
Ambition's  havock  to  withftand, 
f  Timoleon  rofe,  the  fcourge  of  fate, 
And  hurl'd  a  tyrant  from  his  ftate  ; 
The  brother  in  his  foul  fubdu'd, 
And  warm'd  the  poniard  in  his  blood; 
A  foul  by  fo  much  virtue  fir'd, 
Not  Greece  alone,  but  heav'n  admir'd. 

But  in  thefe  dregs  of  human  kind, 
Thefe  days  to  guilt  and  fear  refign'd, 
How  rare  fuch  views  the  heart  elate  ! 
To  brave  the  laft  extremes  of  fate  ; 
Like  Heav'n's  almighty  pow'r  ferene, 

With  fix'd  regard  to  view  the  fcene, 

When  nature  quakes  beneath  the  ftorm^ 

And  horror  wears  its  direft  form. 

Though  future  worlds  are  now  defcry'd. 

Though  Paul  has  writ,  and  Jefus  dy'd, 

Difpell'd  the  dark  infernal  fhade, 

And  all  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns  difplay'd  ; 

Curft  with  unnumber'd  groundlefs  fears, 

How  pale  yon  fhiv'ring  wretch  appears  ! 

For  him  the  day-light  fhines  in  vain, 

For  him  the  fields  no  joys  contain ; 

Nature's  whole  charms  to  him  are  loft, 

No  more  the  woods  their  mufic  boaft ; 

No  more  the  meads  their  vernal  bloom, 

No  more  the  gales  their  rich  perfume: 

Impending  mills  deform  the  fky, 

And  beauty  withers  in  his  eye. 

In  hopes  his  terror  to  elude, 

By  day  he  mingles  with  the  crowd  ; 

Yet  finds  his  foul  to  fears  a  prey, 

In  bufy  crowds,  and  open  day. 

*   Alluding  to  tie  Hiflcry  cf  Hannibal. 

j-  Timoleon,  having  long  in  vain  importuned  hi s  I 
tJ>er  to  reftgn  the  dtjpbiifm  of  Corinth,  at  lajl  rsjia 
the  liberty  oj  the  feofle,  byjlabbing  him>— Vide  Pii 


POEMS. 


If  night  his  lonely  walk  furprife, 
What  horrid  vifions  round  him  rife! 
That  biafli.-d  oak,  which  meets  his  way, 
Shown  by  the  meteor's  fudden  ray, 
The  midnight  murd'rer's  known  retreat, 
Felt  heav'n's  avengeful  bolt  of  late  ; 
The  clafhing  chain,  the  groan  profound, 
Loud  from  yon  ruin'd  tow'er  refound  ; 
And  now  the  fpoc  he  feems  to  tread, 
Where  iome  felf-flaughter'd  corfe  was  laid: 
He  ft'els  fixt  earth  beneath  him  bend, 
Deep  mumurs  from  her  caves  afcend  ; 
Till  all  his  foul,  by  fancy 'd  fway'cl, 
Sees  lurid  phantoms  crowd  the  fha'de  ; 
While  ihroudcd  manes  palely  Itare, 
And  beck'ning  wifli  to  breathe  their  care : 
Thus  real  woes  from  falfe  he  bears, 
And  feels  the  death,  the  hell,  he  fears. 

O  thou  !  whofe  fpirit  warms  my  fong, 
With  energy  divinely  ilrong, 
Ere&  his  foul,  confirm  his  breaft, 
And  let  him  know  the  fweets  of  reft ; 
Till  ev'ry  human  pain  and  care, 
All  that,  may  be,  and  all  that  are, 
But  faife  imugin'd  ills  appear 
Beneath  our  hope,  or  grief,  or  fear. 
And,  if  I  right  invoke  thy  aid, 
By  thee  be  all  my  woes  allay 'd ; 
With  fcorn  inftrudt  me  to  defy 
Impofmg  fear,  and  lawlefs  joy ; 
To  ftruggle  through  this  fcene  of  ftrife, 
The  pains  of  death,  the  pangs  of  life, 
With  conftant  brow  to  meet  my  fate, 
And  meet  ftill  more,  liuanthe's  hate. 
And,  when  fome  fwain  her  charms  fhall  claim, 
Who  feels  not  half  my  gen'rous  flame, 
Whofe  cares  her  angel-voice  beguiles, 
On  whom  me  bsnds  her  heav'nly  finiles; 
For  whom  <he  weeps,  for  whom  ihe  glows, 
On  whom  her  treafur'd  foulbeftows; 
When  perfect  mutual  joy  they  mare, 
Ah!  joy  enhanc'd  by  my  defpair ! 
Mix  beings  in  each  flaming  kifs, 
And  bleft,  ftUl  rife  to  higher  blifs : 
Then,  then,  e'xert  thy  utmoft  pow'r, 
And  teach  me  being  to  endure ; 
Left  reafon  from  the  helm  fhould  ftart, 
And  lawlefs  fury  rule  my  heart ; 
Left  madnefs  all  my  foul  fubdue, 
To  alk  her  Maker,  what  doft  thou  ? 
Yet,  could'ft  thou  in  that  dreadful  hour, 
On  my  rack'd  foul  ail  Lethe  pour, 
Or  fan  me  with  the  gelid  breeze, 
That  chains  in  ice  th'  indignant  feas ; 
Or  wrap  my  heart  in  tenfold  fteel, 
I  Hill  am  man,  and  ftill  muft  feel. 

THE  WISH  SATISFIED. 

AN    IRREGUI.AR  ODE. 

Too  long,  my  foul !  thou'rt  toft  below, 
From  hope  to  hope,  from  fear  to  fear : 

How  great,  how  lading  ev'ry  woe1 
Each  joy  how  fhort,  how  infincere  ! 

Turn  around  thy  fearching  c.yes 
Through  all  the  bright  varieties; 
And,  with  exacteft  care, 


Select  from  all  the  ruining  crowd, 
Some  lulling  joy,  fome  fov'reign  good, 
And  fix  thy  wifhes  there. 

With  toil  amafs  a  mighty  ftore 

Of  glowing  ftones,  or  yellow  ore  ; 

Plant  the  fields  with  golden  grain, 

Crowd  with  lowing  herds  the  plain, 

Bid  the  marble  domes  afce'.  1, 

Bid  the  pleafant  view  extend, 

Streams  and  groves,  and  woods  appear, 

And  fpring  and  autumn  fill  the  year  : 

Sure,  thefe  are  joys,  full,  permanent,  fincere ; 

Sure,  now  each  boundleis  wifh  CM  alk  no  more. 

On  rofes  no*r  rcclin'd, 

1  languifh  into  reft; 
No  vacuum,  in  my  mind, 

No  craving  wilh  unbleft  : 
But  ah  !  in  v.iiu, 
Some  abfent  joy  ftill  gives  me  pain, 

By  toys  elated,  or  by  toys  dcpreft. 

What  melting  joy  can  footh  my  grief? 
What  balmy  pleafure  yield  my  foul  relief? 
'Tis  found  ;  the  blifs  already  warms, 
Sunk  in  love's  perfuafive  arms, 

Enjoying  and  enjoy "d  : 
To  tafte  variety  of  charms  i 

Be  ev'ry  happy  hour  employ'd. 

As  the  fpeedy  moments  roll, 

Let  fome  new  joy  confpire ;  '   .r, 

Hebe,   fill  the  rofy  bowl ; 

Orpheus,  tune  the  lyre ; 
To  new-born  rapture  wake  the  foul, 

And  kindle  young  defire : 
While,  a  beauteous  choir  around, 
Tuneful  virgins  join  the  found. 
Panting  bofoms,  fpeaking  eyes, 
Yielding  finiles,  and  trembling  Cghs : 
Through  melting  error  let  their  voices  rove, 
And  trace  the  inchanting  maze  of  harmony  ani 
love. 

Still,  ftill  infatiate  of  delight 

My  wifhes  open,  as  my  joys  increafe  :     . 
What  now  fhall  ftop  their  reftlefs  flight, 

And  yield  them  kind  redrefs? 
For  fomething  ftill  unknown  I  figh, 
Beyond  what  ftrikes  the  touch,  the  ear,  or  eye  : 
Whence  fhall  I  feek,  or  how  purfue 
The  phantom,  that  eludes  my  view, 

And  cheats  ray  fond  embrace. 

Thus,  while  her  wanton  toils  fond  pleafure  fpreadj 

By  fenfe  and  paffion  blindly  led, 

I  chas'd  the  Syren  through  the  flow'ry  maze, 

And  courted  death  ten  thoufand  ways: 

Kind  Htav'n.  beheld,  with  pitying  eyes, 

My  reftlefs  toil,  my  fruitlefs  fighs  ; 

And,  from  the  realms  of  endlefs  day, 

A  bright  immortal  wing'd  his  way  ; 

Swift  as  a  fun-beam  down  he  flew, 

And  flood  difclos'd,  effulgent  to  my  view. 

"  Fond  man,  he  cry'd,  thy  fruitlefs  fearch  for- 

"  bear; 

"  Nor  vainly  hope,  within  this  narrow  fphere, 
"  A  certain  happinefs  to  find, 
"  Unbounded  as  thy  wifh,  eternal  as  thy  mind; 
4  E  ij 


tilt 


"  In  God,  in  perfect  good  alone, 

"  The  anxious  foul  can  find  repofe; 
"  Nor  to  a  blifs  beneath  his  thront,       - 

"  One  hour  of  full  enjoyment  owes: 
"  He,  only  he,  can  fill  each  wide  defire, 

"  Who  to  each  wifh  its  being  gave; 
::  Not  all  the  charms  which  mortal  wiflics  fire, 
"  Not  all  which  angels  in  the  fkies  admire, 

•'  But  God's  paternal  fmile,  can  bid  it  teafe  to 

"  craw. 

«  Him  then  purfue,  without  delay ; 
•:  He  is  thy  prize,  and  virtue  is  thy  way." 
Then  to  the  winds  his  radiant  plumes  he  fpread, 
And  from,  my  wondring  eyes,  more  fwiit  than 
lightning  fled.. 

TO  HAPPINESS. 

AN    O1JE. 

THE  morning  dawns,  the  ev'ning  fhades 

Fair  nature's  various  face  difguifc  ; 
No  fcene  to  reft  my  heart  perfuades, 

No  moment  frees-  from  tears  my  eye» : 
"Whate'er  once  charm'd  the  laughing  honrr 
Now  boafts  no  more  its  pleafmg  pow'r ; 
Each  former  object  of  delight, 
Beyond  redemption,  wings  its  flight; 
And,  where  it  fmil'd,  the  darling  of  my  fight, 

Profpects  of  wot  and  horrid  phantoms  rife. 

O  Happinefs  !  immortal  fair, 

Where  does  thy  fubtile  effence  dwell  ? 

Doft  thou  relax  the  hermit's  care, 
Companion  in  the  lonely  cell? 

Or,  doll  thou  on  the  funny  plain 

Infpire  the  reed,  and  cheer  the  fwain  ? 

Or,  fcornful  of  each  low  retreat, 

On  fortune's  favour  doft  thou  wait ; 

And,  in  the  gilded  chambers  of  the  great, 
Protract  the  revel,  and  the  pleafure  fwell ! 

Ah  me  !  the  hermit's  cell  explore  ; 

Thy  abfence  he,  like  rrie,  complains ; 
While  murm'ring  ftreams  along  the  fhore, 

Echo  the  love-fick  fhepherd's  ftrains  : 
Nor,  where  the  gilded  domes  afpire, 
Deign'it  thou,  O  goddsfs!  to  retire  : 
Though  there  the  loves  and  graces  play, 
Though  wine  andmufic  court  thy  ftay; 
TJioii  fly'ft,  alas  !  and  who  can  trace  thy  war, 

Or  fay  what  place  thy  heav'nly  form  contains  ? 

If  to  mankind  I  turn  my  view, 

Flatter'd  with  hopes  of  facial  joy; 
Rapine  and  blood*  mankind  purfue, 

As  God  had  form'd  them  to  deflroy. 
£)ifcord,  at  whofc  tremendous  view 
Hell  quakes  with  horror  ever  new, 
Ko  more  by  endlefs  night  deprefl, 
Pours  all  her  venom  through  eachbriaft; 
And,  while  deep  groans  and  carnage  are  increas'd, 

Smiles  grim,  the  rifing  mifchiet  to  enjoy. 

Hence,  hence,  indignant  turn  thine  eyes, 

To  my  dejected  foul  I'faid  ; 
'Sec,  to  the  fhade  Kusnthe  flics, 

Go,  find  Euanthc  in  the  fhade: 
Her  angel-form  thy  fight  fnall  charm, 
Thy  heart  her  angcl-goodnefs  warm ; 

*  IVa  Qdt  vat  written  i/i  tleysar  1/45. 


THE  WORKS  OF   BLACK.LOCK. 

There  fhall  no  wants  thy  fteps  purfue, 
No  wak.'fu!  care  contract  thy  brow  ; 
Mufic  each  found,  and  beauty  cv'ry  view, 
Shall  ev'ry  fenfe  with  full  delight  invade. 


Exulting  in  the  charming  thought, 
Thither  with  hafty  fteps  I  piefs; 

And  while  th*  enchanting  maid  I  fought, 
Thank'd  heav'n  for  all  my  paft  diftrefc: 

Ir.creafmg  hop?s  my  journey  cheer'd, 

And  now  in  reach  the  blifs  uppear'd  ; 

Grai;;  this  fole  boon,  O  fate!  1  cry'd  5 

Be  all  thy  other  gifts  deny'd, 

In  this  fhall  all  my  wifhcs  be  fupply'd; 

And  fure  a  love  like  mine  deferves  no  lefc. 

In  vain,  alas!  in  vain  my  pray'r; 

Fate  mix'd  the  accents  with  the  wind^ 
Th'  iUufivc  form  diffolv'd  in  air, 

And  left  my  foul  to  grief  rcfign'd: 
As  far  from  all  my  hopes  (he  flies, 
As  deepeft  ftas  from  loftieft  U0£s : 
Yet,  ftill,  on  fancy  deep  impreft, 
1  he  fad,  the  dear  ideas  reft; 
Vet  ftill  the  recent  forrows  heave  my  breaft, 

Hang  black  o'er  life,  and  prey  upon  my  m 

Ah  !  goddefs,  fcarce  to  mortals  known, 
Who  with  thy  fnadow  madly  ftray, 

At  length  from  Heav'n,  thy  facred  throne, 
Dart  through  my  foul  one  cheerful  ray  : 

Ah!  with  fome  facred  lenient  art, 

Allay  the  anguifh  of  my  heart ; 

Ah  !  teach  me,  patient  to  fafiain 

Life's  various  {lores  of  grief  and  pain  f 

Or,  if  I  thus  prefer  my  pray'r  in  vain. 
Scon  let  me  find  thee  in  eternal  day. 

ON  EUANTHE's  ABSCENCE. 


BLEST  Heav'n !  and  thou  fair  world  below  !• 
Is  there  no  cure  tafooth  my  fmatt  ? 

No  balm  to  heal  a  lover's  woe, 

That  bids  his  eyes  for  ever  flow, 

Confumes  his  foul,  and  pines  his  heart? 

And  will  no  friendly  arm  above 

Relieve  my  tortur'd  foul  from  love  ? 

As  fwift  defcending  fhow'rs  of  rain, 

Deform  with  mud  the  cleared  ftreamfe  ;- 
A*  rifing  rriifts  heav'n's  azure  ftain, 
Ting'd  with  Aurora's  bluth  in  vain  , 

As  fades  the  flow'r  in  mid-day  bearrm 
On  life  thus  tender  forrows  prey, 
And  wrap  in  gloom  its  promis'd  day. 

Ye  plains,  where  clear  Euanthe  ftrays. 

Ye  various  objects  of  her  view, 
Bcdeck'd  in  beauty's  brighteft  blaze; 
Let  all  its  forms,  and  all  its  rays, 

Where-e'cr  fhe  turns,  her  eyes  purfue; 
All  fair  as  fhe  let  nature  fnine  : 
Ah  !  then  how  lovely !  how  divine ! 

VVherc-e'er  the  thymy  vales  defcend, 

And  breathe  ambrofial  fragrance  round. 
Proportion  juft,  thy  line  extend, 
And  teach  the  profpect  where  to  end: 
While  woods  or  mountains  mark  the  bowntfj 


<)    1     M 


That  each  fair  fcene  \vhich  /trikes  her  eye, 
May  charm  with  i'wect  variety. 

Ye  dreams  that  in  perpetual  flow, 

Still  warble  on  your  mazy  way, 
Murmur  Euanthe,  as  you  go; 
Murmur  a  love-fick  poet's  woe: 

Ye  feather'd  warbk-rs,  join 'the  lay; 
Sing  how  I  iuffer,  how  complain  ; 
Yet  name  not  him  who  i'eels  the  pain. 

And  thou,  eternal  ruling  Pow'r! 

If  fpotlefs  virtue  claims  thy  care, 
Around  unheard-of  bieflings  ihow'r ; 
Let  fome  new  pleafure  crown  each  hoyrs 

And  make  her  hltit,  as  good  ar.u  t'uir ; 
•Of  all  thy  works,  to  mortals  known, 
The  belt  and  faireft  flic  .alone. 

TO  A  YOUNG  GENTLEMAN  BOUND 
FOR  GUINEA. 

.AN    ODE-, 

ATTEND  the  mufe,  wliofe  numbers  "flow 
faithful  to  facred  friendship's  woe; 

And  let  the  Scotian  lyre 
Obtain  thy  pity  and  thy  care  : 
While  thy  lov'd  walks  and  native  air 

The  fclemn  founds  infpire. 

That  native  air,  thefe  \valks  no.more       v 
Elcfl  with  their  fav'rite,  now  deplore, 

And  join  the  plaintive  drain  : 
V/hil-,  urg'd  by  winds  ar.d  waves,  he  -flies, 
Where  unknown  ftars,  through  unknown,  ficies, 

Their  tracklefs  courfe  maintain. 

Yet  think  :  by  ev'ry  keener  fmart, 
That  thrills  a  friend  or  brother's  heart; 

By  all  the  griefs  that  rife, 
And  with  dumb  anguifh  heave  thy  brcaft,, 
V.'h^n  abfencc  rob*  thy  foul  of  reft, 

And  fwells  with  tears  the  ejes : 

J3y  all  our  forrows  ever  ne.w, 

Think  whom  you  fly,  .and  what  purfuc ; 

And  judge  by  your's  our  pain  : 
From  friendfhip's  dear  tenacious  ar»s, 
You  fly  perhaps  to  wav's  alarms, 

To  angry  {kies  and  main. 

Th:  fmiliog  plain,  the  folemn  fnade, 
With  all  the  various  charms  djfplay'd, 

That  fummer's  face  adorn  ; 
Summer,  xvith  all  that's  gay  or  fweet, 
With  tranfyort  longs  thy  fcnfe  to  meet, 

And  courts  thy  dear  return. 

The  gentle  fun.  the  fanning  gale, 
The  vocal  wood,  the  fragrant  vale, 

Thy  prefence  all  implore : 
Can  then  a  wafte  of  fea  and  iky, 
That  know*  no  limits,  charm  thine  eye, 

Thine  ear  the  tempeft's  roar  ? 

But  why  fuch  weak  attractions  name, 
While  ev'ry  warmer  focial  claim. 

Demands  the  mournful  lay  ? 
Ah  !  hear  a  brother's  moving  fighs, 
Through  tears,  behold  a  fitter's  cyt*s 

Emit  a  faded  ray. 


Thy  young  allies,  by  nature  tanght 
To  feel  tlu-  tender  pang  of  thought, 

Which  friends  in  abi'ence  claim; 
To  thcc,  with  forrow  all-finctrc, 
Oft  pay  the  tributary  tear, 

Oil  lifp  with  joy-  thy  name. 

Nor  thefe  thy  abfence  mourn  alone, 

O  dearly  lov'd  !   though  faintly  known; 

One  yet  nnfung  remains : 
Nature,  when,  fcarce  fair  light  he  knew, 
Sriatch'd  heav'n,  earth,  bf«uty  from  his  vjeva 

And  durkn.  is  roiifcd  him  reigns. 

The  mufe  with  pity  view'd  his  tJoom ; 
And  darting  through  th'  eternal  gloom 

.An  intellectual  ray, 
Bade  him  with  mufic's  voice  infpire 
The  pb.ivitive  f.ute,  the  fprightly  lyre, 

And  tune  th'  irnpallion'cl  lay. 

Thus,  though  defpairing  of  relief, 
With  ev'ry  mark  of  heart-felt  grief, 

Thy  abi'ence  we  complain  : 
While  now  perhaps  th'  aufpicious  gile 
Invites  to  iprciid  the  flying  fail, 

And  all  our  tears  are  vain. 

Protecl  him  Heav'n :  but  hence  each  fear; 
Since  endlefs  goodnefs,  endlefs  care 

This  mighty  fabric  guides; 
Commands  the  tempell  where  to  ftray, 
Directs  the  lightning's  Canting  way, 

And  rules  the  refluent  tides. 

See,  from  th'  effulgence  of  his  reign, 
With  pleas'd  furvey,  Omnifcience  deign 

Thy  wondrous  worth  to  view  : 
See,  from  the  realms  of  endlefs  day, 
Immortal  guardians  wing  their  way, 

And  all  thy  fteps  purfue. 

If  fable  clouds,  whofe  wombs  contain  , 

The  niarm'ring  bolt,  or  dafhing  rain, 

The  blue  fcrene  deform; 
Myriads  from  heav'n's  etherial  height, 
Shall  clear  the  gloom,  reftore  the  light, 

And  chafe  th'  impending  ftorm. 

AN  IRREGULAR  ODE. 

SENT»TO  A  LADY  ON   HER  MARRIAGE-BAY. 

Wi  r  H  all  your  wings  ye  moments  fly, 

And  drive  the  tardy  fun  along; 
Till  that  glad  morn  {hall  paint  the  flcy, 

Which  wakes  the  mule,  and  claims  the  rajj- 
tur'd  long. 

See  nature  with  our  wiihes  join, 

To  aid  the  dear,  the  bleit  dcfigii ; 

See  time  precipitate  his  way, 

To  bring  th*  expelled  happy  day  ; 

See,  the  wifh'd-for  dawn  app> 

A  more  than  wonted  glow  fhe  wears : 

Hark  !  hymeneals  found  ; 
Each  mufe  awakes  her  fofteft  lyre ; 
Each  airy  warbler  fwells  the  choir; 

*Tis  muiic  all  mound. 

Awake  ye  nymphs  the.  blufhi 
T'  cclipft  Auwa's  rofy  pride ; 


1174  THE  WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK. 

While  virgin  fliame  retards  her  way, 

And  Love,  half-angry,  chides  her  flay ; 

'While  hopes  and  fears  alternate  reign, 

Intermingling  blifs  and  pain ; 

O'er  all  her  charms  diffufe  peculiar  grace, 

Pant  in  her  fhiv'ring  heart,  and  vary  in  her  face. 


At  length  confent,  reluctant  fair, 

To  blefs  thy  Iong-expe<fting  lover's  eyes ! 
Too  long  his  fighs  are  loft  in  air, 

At  length  refign  the  hlifs  for  which  he  dies : 
The  mufes,  prefcient  of  your  future  joys, 

Dilate  my  foul,  and  prompt  the  cheerful  lay; 
Whi'e  they,  through   coming   times,   with   glad 
furprife, 

The  long  fuccefli  ve  brightning  fcenes  furvey. 

Lo !  to  your  fight  a  blooming  offspring  rife, 
And  add  new  ardour  to  the  nuptial  ties, 

While  in  each  form  you  both  united  fhine ; 
Frefh  honours  wait  your  temples  to  adorn  : 
For  you  glad  Ceres  fills  the  flowing  horn, 

And  Heav'nand  fate  to  blefs  your  days  combine. 

While  life  gives  pleafure,  life  fhall  ftill  remain, 
Till  death,  with  gentle  hand,  fhall  fhut  the  plea- 

fing  fcene : 

Safe  fable  guide  to  that  celeftial  fhore, 
Where  pleafure  knows  no  end,  and  change  isfear'd 

no  more ! 


TO  A  COQUETTE. 


AT  length  vain,  airy  flutt'rer  fly; 
Nor  vex  die  public  tar  and  eye 

With  all  thin  npife  and  glare  : 
Thy  wifer  kindred  gnats  behold, 
All  fhrouded  in  their  parent  mould, 

Forfake  the  chilling  air. 

Of  conqueft  there  they  fafely  dream  ; 
Nor  gentle  breeze,  nor  tranfient  gleam, 

Allures  them  forth  to  play : 
But  thou,  alike  in  froft  and  flame, 
Infatiate  of  the  cruel  game. 

Still  on  mankind  would'ft  prey. 

Thy  confcious  charms,  thy  praclis'd  arts, 

Thofe  adventitious  beams  that  round  thec  fhine 

Referve  for  unexperienc'd  hearts : 
Superior  fpells  defpair  to  conquer  mine. 

Go,  bid  the  funfhine  of  thine  eyes 
Melt  rigid  winter,  warrn  the  flues, 

And  let  the  rivers  free; 
O'er  fields  immers'd  in  froft  and  fnow, 
Bid  flow'rs  with  fmiling  verdure  grow ; 

Then  hope  to  foften  me. 

No,  Hcav'n  and  freedom  witnefs  bear. 
This  heart  no  fecond  frown  fhdll  fear, 

No  feccvnd  yoke  fuftain  : 
Enough  of  female  fcorn  I  know  ; 

Scarce  fate  could  break  my  chain. 

Ye  hours,  confum'd  in  hopelefs  pain, 

Ye  trees,  infcrib'd  with  many  a  flaming  vow, 

Yc  echoes,  oft  involc'd  in  vain, 
Xe  moon-light  walks,  ye  tinkling  rills,  adieu  ! 


Your  paint  that  idle  hearts  contrattlj; 
Your  fairy  nets  for  feeble  fouls, 

By  partial  fancy  wrought; 
Your  Syren  voice,  your  tempting  air, 
Your  borrow'd  vifage  falfely  fair, 

With  me  avail  you  nought. 


Let  ev'ry  charm  that  wakes  defire, 
Let  each  enfnaring  art  confpire ; 

Not  all  can  hurt  my  reft : 
Touch'd  by  *  Ithuriel's  potent  fpear, 
At  once  unmafk'd  the  fiends  appear, 

In  native  biacknefs  dreft. 

The  fpeaking  glancev  the  b,eaving  breaft, 
The  cheek  with  lilies  ting'd  and  rofy  dye ; 

Falfe  joys,  which  ruin  all  who  tafte, 

How  fwift  they  fade  in  reafon's  piercing  eye ! 

Seeft  thou  yon  taper's  vivid  ray, 
Which  emulates  the  blaze  of  day, 

Diffufing  far  its  light  ? 
Though  it  from  blafts  fhall  ftand  fecure, 
Time  urges  on  the  deftin'd  hour, 

And  lo  !  it  finks  in  night. 

Such  is  thy  glory,  fuch  its  date, 
Wav'd  by  the  fportive  hand  of  fate, 

A  while  to  catch  our  view  : 
Now  bright  to  heav'n  the  blaze  afpires, 
Then  fudden  from  our  gaze  retires, 

And  yields  to  wonders  new. 

Like  this  poor  torch,  thy  haughty  airs. 

Thy  fhort-liv'd  fplendor  on  a  puff  depends; 
And  foon  as  fate  the  ftroke  prepares, 

The  flafh  in  duft  and  naufeous  vapours  ends. 

ON  THE  REFINEMENTS  IN  METAPHY 
SICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


FALSE  wifdom,  fly  with  all  thy-f-  owls; 
The  duft  and  cobwebs  of  the  fchools 

For  me  have  charms  no  more  ; 
The  grofs  Minerva  of  our  days, 
In  mighty  bulk  my  learn'd  $  effays 

Reads  joyful  o'er  and  o'er. 

Led  by  her  hand  a  length  of  time, 

Through  fenfe  and  nonfenfe,  prole  and  rhyme, 

I  beat  my  painful  way  ; 
Long,  long  revolv'd  the  myftic  page 
Of  many  a  Dutch  and  German  fage, 

And  hop'd  at  laft  for  day. 

But  as  the  mole,  hid  under  ground, 
Still  works  more  dark,  as  more  profound, 

So  all  my  toils  were  vain  : 
For  truth  and  fenfe  indignant  fly, 
As  far  as  ocean  from  the  fky, 

From  all  the  formal  train. 


*  See  Paradife  Lof,  Book  JV^,  verfe  8lC. 

•}•  formerly  tie  bird  of  Minerva  >  but  by  tbc  modem* 
aj  1  riled  lo  Dullncfs. 

\  The  author,  lite  others  of  greater  name,  had  for- 
mcrlj  aitemftid  t3  dtfiionjlrate  taattcn  <>fJaSl  a  nnori. 


P    O    E    M    S. 


The  *  Stagyrite,  whofe  fruitful  quill 
O'er  free-born  nature  lords  it  ilili, 

Suftain'd  by  form  and  phrafe 
Of  dire  portent  and  folemn  iound, 
Where  meaning  feldom  can  be  found, 

From  me  ihail  gain  no  praife. 

But  you  who  would  be  truly  wife, 
To  nature's  light  wivcil  your  eyes, 

Her  gentle  call  obey  : 
She  leads  by  no  f'alfe  Wand'rtag  glare, 
No  voice  ambiguous  ftrikes  your  ear, 

To  bid  you  vainly  itray. 

Not  in  the  gloomy  cell  reclufe, 
tor  noble  deeds  orgen'rous  views, 

She  bids  us  watch  the  night ; 
Fair  virtue  fhines,  to  all  dilplay'd. 
Kor  afks  the  tardy  fchooiman's  aid, 

To  teach  us  what  is  right. 

Pleafure  and  pain  fhe  fets  in  view, 
And  which  to  fhun,  and  which  purfue, 

Inftrucls  her  pupil's  heart : 
Then  letter'd  pride,  fay  what  they  gain, 
To  maflc  with  fo  much  fruitkfs  pain, 

Thy  ignorance  with  art  ? 

Thy  fliff  grimace,  ar.d  awful  tone, 
An  idiot's  wonder  move  alone ; 

And,  fpite  of  all  thy  rules, 
The  wife  in  ev'ry  age  conclude 
Thyfaireft  profpecls,  rightly  view'd, 

The  paradife  of  fools. 

The  gamefter's  hope,  when  doom'd  to  lofe, 
The  joys  of  wine,  the  wanton's  vows, 

The  faithlefs  calm  at  fea, 
The  courtier's  word,  the  crowd's  applaufe, 
The  Jefuit's  faith,  the  ieule  of  IJ.AVS, 

Are  not  more  falfe  than  thee. 

Bleft  he  !  who  fees,  without  furprife, 
The  various  fyitems  fall  and  rife, 

As  fliifts  the  fickle  gale; 
"While  all  their  utmoft  force  exert, 
To  wound  the  foe's  unguarded  part, 

And  all  alike  prevail. 

Thus  (facrcd  f  bards  of  yore  have  fung), 
High  Heav'u  with  martial  clamours  rung, 

And  deeds  of  mortal  wrath ; 
When  cranes  and  pigmies  glory  fought, 
And  in  the  fields  of  ether  iought, 

With  mutual  wounds  and  death. 

Let  Logic's  fons  mechanic  throng, 
Their  fyL'ogilUc  war  prolong, 

And  reaibn's  empire  Loait : 
Enftirin'd  in  deep  congenial  gloom. 
Eternal  wrangling  be  their  doom, 

To  truth  and  nature  loll ! 

Amus'd  by  fancy's  fleeting  fire, 
Let  J  Malebranche  Hill  foi  truth  inquire, 
And  rack  his  aching  fight : 

*  Arijlotlet  itrvintor  oj *  fyllogifais,  asfucb  only  men 
tioned  here. 

•^  See-  Homer. 

%  He  thought  tbe  medium  by  ichich  fenftble  perceptions 
•were  con-vtycJ  to  us,  -was  (jed ;  ill  wbofe  ejjente  truth 
ii  «*/«»,  as  in  a  mirrtr. 


While  the  coy  goddefs  wings  her  way, 
To  icenes  of  uncnaccrd  day, 
Abfoib'd  in  dazzling  Ijgfejt.    *•> 

"With  firmer  ftcp  and  graver  guife, 
Whilit.  *  Lock--  in  cMifiious  triumph  tries 

Her  dwelling  to  explore  ; 
Swift  fhe  eluiUi  his  aro.ent  chafe, 
A  iliadow  courts  his  loud  embrace, 

Which  f  Hobbcs  caref.'d  before. 

Let  }  Dodwcll  with  the  fathers  join, 
To  lirip  of  energy  divine 

Tne  hcav'n-dcfcended  foul ; 
The  tell  of  ienfc  let  y  Berkley  fcorn. 
And  both  on  borrow 'd  pinions  boine, 

Annihilate  the  whole. 

In  academic  vales  retir'd, 

With  1'lato's  love  and  beauty  Sr'tl, 

My  Heps  let  candour  guide  ; 
By  tenets  vain  unprcpofieit, 
1  hofe  iawlefs  tyrant*  of  the  breafl, 

Offc-pring  pf  zeal  and  pride  ! 

Or  while  through  nature's  walks  I  flray, 
Would  truth'bbright  fource  emit  one  ray, 

And  all  my  foul  inflame ; 
Creation  and  her  bounteous  lavs, 
Her  order  fiVd,  her  glorious  caufe, 

Should  be  my  fav'iite  theme. 


TO  MRS.  R- 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  PROMISING  JNFANT. 


WHILE,  touch'd  with  all  thy  tender  parn, 
The  mufes  breathe  a  mournful  ilrain, 

O  !  lift  thy  languid  eye  ! 
O  !   deign  a  calm  aufpicious  ear; 
The  mule  mall  yield  thee  tear  for  tear, 

And  mingle  fig-h  with  figh. 

Not  for  the  Thracian  bard,  whofe  lyre 
Cculd  rocks  and  woods  with  foul  inipire, 

By  jealous  fury  flain, 

While  murm'ring  on  his  trembling  tongue, 
Eurydice  imperfect  hung, 

The  nine  could  more  complain. 

Ah  !  fay  harmonious  fitters,  fay : 
When  iwift  to  pierce  the  lovely  prey, 

Fate  took  its  cruel  aim  ; 
When  langmfli'd  ev'ry  tender  grace, 
Each  op'ning  bloom  that  ting'd  his  face, 

And  pangs  convuls'd  his  frame  : 

Say,  could  no  fong  of  melting  woe, 

Revoke  the  keen  deterinin'd  blow, 

1'hat  clos'd  his  fparkling  eye  ? 

*  His  account  of  virtue  differs  not  much  from  ttatoj 
tie  Leviathan 

•j-  Tbe  author  r>f  the  lajl  mentionca  piece  ;  iubo  deniett 
tbe  diftinti'on  betioeen  vice  and  virtue,  and  affirmed 
poiucr  and  right  to  be  thejiitne. 

$  He  attempted  to  prove  the  natural  mortality  of  t& 
foul,  and  quoted  tbe  fathers  in  favour  of  his  opinion. 
[[  dutbor  of  dialogue.!  en  the  non-exijknct  nj  matte  f 
4  E  iiij 


THE    WORKS 

Thus  rofcs.oft,  by  early  doom, 
Rohb'd  of  their  blufli  and  fweet  perfume, 
Grow  pale,  recline,-  and  die. 

Pale,  pale  and  colcl  the"beauteous  frame! 
Nor  falient  pulfe,  nor  vital  flame, 

A  mother's  hopes  reftorc : 
In  vain  keen  anguifh  tears  her  breaft, 
J$y  ev'ry  tender  mark  expreft, 

He  lives,  he  fim'les  no  more ! 

Such  is  the  fate  of  human  kind; 
The  faireft  form,  the  brighteft  mind, 

Can  no  exemption  know  : 
The  mighty  mandate  of  the  Iky, 
•'  That  man  when  born  begins  to  die," 

Extends  to  all  below. 

In  vain  a  mother's  pray'rs  afcend, 
Should  nature  to  her  forrows  lend 
'     The  native  voice  of  fmart ; 
In  vain  would  plaints  their  force  cffay 
To  hold  precarious  life  one  dayv 
Or  fate's  dread  hand  avert. 

Tix'd  as  the  rock  that  braves  the  main, 
rix'd  as  the  poles  that  all  fuftain, 

Its  purpofe  ftands  fecure  : 
The  humble  hynd  who  toils  for  bread, 
The  fcepter'd  hand,  the  laurel'd  head; 

Alike  confefs  its  pow'r. 

pince  time  began,  the  dream  of  woei 
Along  its  rapid  current  flows; 

Still  fwells  the  groan  profound : 
While  age,  re-echoing  ftill  to  age, 
Tranfmits  the  annals  of  its  rage, 

And  points  the  recent  wound. 

When  human  hopes  fublimeft  tow'r, 
Then,  wanton  in  th'excefs  of  pow'r, 

The  tyrant  throws  them  down ; 
The  orphan  early  robb'd  of  aid, 
The  widow'd  wife,  the  plighted  maid, 

His  fable  triumph  crown. 

At  length  to  life  and  joy  return  ; 
Man  was  not  deftin'd  ftill  to  mourn, 

A  prey  to  endlefs  pain  : 
Keav'n's  various  band,  the  heart  to  form, 
With  blifs  and  anguifh,  calm  and  ftorrn, 

Diverfifies  the  fcene : 
But  hides  with  care  from  human  eyes, 
What  blifs  beyond  this  profpe6l  lies ; 

Left  we,  with  life  oppreft, 
Should  grieve  its  burden  to  endure, 
And,  with  excurfion  premature, 

Purfue  eternal  reft. 

From  difappointment,  grief,  and  care, 
From  every  pang  of  {harp  defpair, 

Thy  charmer  wings  his  way  ; 
And,  while  new  fcenes  his  bofom  fire,     - 
Jtie  learns  to  ftrike  the  golden  lyre, 

And  Heav'n  refounds  his  lay. 

l.o  !  where  his  facred  relics  lie, 
Immortal  guardians  from  the  fky 

Their  filver  wings  difplay ; 
Till,  bright  c  merging  from  the  tomb, 
They  rile  to  heavjn,  their  dcflin'd  home? 
'  And  hail  eternal  day, 


OF   BLACKLO6K. 

I  AN  ODS. 

WRITTEN   WHEN    SICK 

O  PSUME  of  life  !  O  tatte  of  joy! 
Whither  fo  early  do  you  fly  ? 
Scarce  half  your  tra'nfient  fweetnefs  knowty, 
Why  are  you  vanifh'd  ere  full-blown  ? 

The  beauteous  progeny  of  fprir^, 
That  tinge  the  zephyr's  fragrant  wing, 
Each  tender  bloom,  each  fhort-liv'd  fiovy'r, 
.Still  flourifh  till  their  deflin'd  hour. 
Your  winter  too,  too  foon  will  come, 
And  chill  in  death  your  vernal  bloom. 

On  my  wan  cheek  the  colour  dies, 
Suffus'd  and  languid  roll  mine  eyes ; 
Cold  horrors  thrill  each  fick'ning  vein; 
Deep  broken  fighs  my  boiom  ftrain  ; 
The  falient  pulfe  of  health  gives  o'er, 
And  life  and  plcafure  are  no  more. 

TO  HEALTH. 


MOTHER  of  all  human  joys, 
Rofy  cheeks,  and  fparkling  eyes; 
In  whofe  train,  for  ever  gay, 
Smiling  loves  and  graces  play : 
If  complaints  thy  foul  can  move, 
Or  mufic  charm  the  voice  of  love! 
Hither,  goddefs,  ere  too  late, 
Turn,  and  ftop  impending  fate. 

Over  earth,  and  fea,  and  flcy, 
Bid  thy  airy  heralds  fly; 
With  each  balm  which  nature  yields, 
From  the  gardens,  groves,  and  field*, 
From  each  flow'r  of  varied  hue, 
From  each  herb  that  lips  the  dew, 
From  each  tree  of  fragrant  bloom, 
Bid  the  gales  their  wings  peifums  ; 
And  around  fair  Celia's  head, 
All  the  mingled  incenie  fhed  : 
Till  each  living  fweetnefs  rife, 
Paint  her  cheeks,  and  arm  h 
Mild  as  ev'ning's  humid  ray, 
Yet  awful  as  the  blaze  of  day. 

Celia  if  the  fates  reftore, 
Love  and  beauty  weep  no  more  : 
But  if  they  fnatch  the  lovely  prize, 
All  that's  fair  in  Ceiia  dies. 

TO  A  LITTLE  GIRL  WHOM  I  Fl 
OFFENDED. 

AN    ODE. 
WRITTEN  AT  TWELVE  YEARS  OF  AOE. 

How  long  fhali  I  attempt  in  vain 
Thy  fmiles,  my  angel,  to  regain  ? 
I'll  kifs  your  hand,  I'll  weep,  I'll  kneel ; 
Will  nought,  fair  tyrant,  reconcile  ? 

That  goldfinch,  with  her  painted  wings, 
Which  gaily  looks,  and  fweetly  fingsj 
That,  and  if  aught  I  have  more  fine, 
All,  all  my  charmer,  fhali  be  thine.  ; 


P    O    £    M    3. 


mamnrn  ihall  prove  fevcre, 
I'll  interpofe,  and  fave  my  dear. 
Soften,  my  fair,  thofe  angry  eyes, 
Nor  tear  thy  heart  with  broken  fighs  : 
Think,  while  that  tender  brcaft  they  drain, 
for  tliee  wlut  anguifh  Lfuftain. 

Should  but  thy  fair  companions  view, 
How  ill  that  frown  becomes  thy  brow  ; 
With  fear  and  grief  in  cv'ry  eye, 
Each  would  to  each,  aftonim'd,  cry, 
Heav'ns!  where  is  all  her  fwcetnefs  flown  ! 
How  ftrange  a  figure  now  fhe's  grown  '. 
Run,  Nancy,  let  us  run,  left  -we 
Grow  pcttifli,  awkward  things,  as  fhe. 

'Tis  done,  'tis  done  ;  my  cherub  fmiles, 
My  griefs  fufpends,  my  fears  beguiles: 
How  the  quick  pkafure  heaves  my  breaft! 
Ah  !  ftill  be  kind,  and  I'll  be  blsfl  ! 


TO  LESBTA. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  CATUtLUJ. 

THOUGH  four,  loquacious  age  reprove, 
Let  us,  nay  Lefbia,  live  for  love: 
For,  when  the  fliort-liv'd  funs  decline, 
They  but  retire  more  bright  to  fhine  : 
But  we,  when  fleeting,  life  is  o'er, 
And  light  and  love  can  blefs  no  more  ; 
Are  ravifh'd  from  each  dear  delight, 
To  fleep  one  long  eternal  night. 
Give  me  of  kiffes  balmy  tfore, 
Ten  thoufand,  and  ten  thoufand  more; 
Still  add  ten  thoufand,  doubly  fvveet  ; 
The  dear,  dear  number  Hill  repeat  ; 
And,  when  the  Aim  fo  high  fhall  fwell, 
Scarce  thought  can  reach,  or  tongue  can  tell  ; 
Let  us  on  kiffl-s  kifles  crowd, 
Till  number  fink  in  multitude  ; 
Left  our  full  blifs  flioulu  limits  know, 
And  others,  numb'ring  envious  grow. 

A  TRANSLATION  OF  AN  OLD  SCOTTISH 
SONG. 

SINCE  robb'd  of  all  that  charm'd  my  view, 

Of  all  my  foul  e'er  fancied  fair, 
Yc  fmiling  native  fcenes,  adieu  ! 

With  each  delightful  obje<Sb  there. 

Ye  vales,  which  to  the  raptur'd  eye 
Difclos'd  the  flow'ry  pride  of  May  ; 

Ye  circling  hills,  whofe  lumniits  high 
Blulh'd  with  the  morning's  earlieil  ray  » 

Where,  hecdlcfs  oft  how  far  1  ftray'd, 

And  pleas'  d  my  ruin  to  purfuc  ; 
I  fung  my  dear,  my  cruel  maid  : 

Adieu  for  ever  !  ah  !  adieu  ! 

Ye  dear  affociates  of  my  breaft, 

Whofe  hearts  with  fpcechlcls  forrbw  fwtll; 
And  thou,  with  hoary  age  opprcft, 

Dear  author  of  my  life,  farewel  ! 

For  me,  alas  !  thy  fruitlefs  tears, 

1-ar,  far  remote  from  friends  and  home, 

Jhall  blaft  thy  venerable  years, 
And  bend  ihcc  pining  to  U»»  teaib, 


Sharp  are  the  pangs  by  nature  felt, 

From  dear  relations  torn  away, 
Yet  fharper  pangs  my  vitals  melt, 

To  hopeleTa  love  a  deftin'd  pray : 

While  (he,  as  angry  heav'n  and  main 

Deaf  to  the  helpkfs  failor's  pray'r, 
Enjoys  my  foul-confuming  pain, 

And  wantons  with  my  deep  defpair.. 

From  curfed  gold  what  ills  arife  ! 

What  horrors  life's  fair  profpect  ftain  ! 
Friends  blaft  their  friends  with  angry  eye% 

And  brothers  bleed,  by  brothers  flaiu. 

From  curfed  gold  I  trace  my  woe; 

Could  I  this  fplendid  mifchicf  boaft, 
Nor  would  my  tears  unpited  flow. 

Nor  would  my  fighs  in  air  be  loft. 

Ah  !  when  a  mother's  cruel  care 

Nurs'd  me  an  infant  on  the  breaft, 
'Had  early  fate  furpris'd  me  there, 

And  wrapt  me  in  eternal  reft  : 

Then  had  this  breaft  ne'er  learn'd  to  beat, 

And  tremble  with  unpitied  pain ; 
Nor  had  a  maid's  relentlefs  hate, 

Been,  ev'n  in  death,  deplor'd  ia  vain, 

Oft  in  the  pleafing  toils  of  love, 

With  ev'ry  winning  art  1  try'd 
To  catch  the  coyly  flatt'ring  dove, 

With  killing  eyes  and  plumy  pride : 

But,  far  on  nimble  pinions  borne 

From  love's  warm  gales  and  flow'ry  plains, 
She  fought  the  northern  climes  of  fcorn, 

Where  ever-freezing  winter  reigns. 

Ah  me  T  had  heav'n  and  flie  prov'd  kind, 
Then  full  of  age,  and  free  from  care, 

How  bleft  had  I  my  life  refi^n'd, 
Where  fiTll  I  Licath'd  this  vital  air  I 

But  fince  no  flatt'ring  hope  remains, 

Let  me  my  wretched  lot  purfue  : 
Adieu,  dear  friends,  and  native  fcenes, 

To  all,  but  grief  and  love,  adieu  J 

SONG. 

TO  THE  TUNE  OF  THE  BRAES  OF  BALlANDTN X* 

BENEATH  a  green  (hade,  a  lovely  young  fvvain, 
One  ev'ning  rtclm'd,  to  difcover  his  pain  : 
So  fad,  yet  fo  fwectly,  he  warbled  his     oc, 
The  winds  ceas'd  to  breathe,  and  the  fountains  t» 
flow  :  [plain  ; 

Rude  winds,  with  companion,  could  hear  him  corn- 
Yet  Cloe,  lefs  gentle,  was  deaf  to  his  ftrain. 

How  happy,  he  cry'd,  my  moments  once  flew! 
Ere  Chloe's  bright  charms  tirft  flalh'd  in  my  view: 
Theft  eyes  then   with  pleulure  the  dawn  could 
furvcy;  [they: 

Nor  fmil'd  the  fair  morning  more  cheerful  thaa 
New  fcenes  of  diftrels  pleale  only  ir.y  light; 
I'm  tortur'd  in  pleafurc,  and  languiih  in  light* 

Through  changes  in  vain  relief  I  purfue; 
All,  all  but  confpire  my  griefs  to  renew: 
From  funfhine  to  ztph\  rs  and  (hades  we  repair; 
To  funfhiijc  we  fly  from  too  piercing  au  air ; 


THE   WORKS   OF    BLACKLOCK. 


But  love's  ardent  fever  burns  always  the  fame ; 
No  winter  can  cool  it,  no  fummer  inaflme. 

But  fee!  the  pale  moon  all  clouded  retires; 
The  breezes  grow  cool,  not  btrephon's  defires: 
I  fly  from  the  dangers  of  tempeft  and  wind, 
Yet  nourifli  the  madneis  that  preys  on  my  mind. 
Ah  wretch !  how  can  life  thus  merit  thy  care, 
Since  length'ning  its  moments,  but  lengthens  de- 
fpair  ? 

THE  RAVISH'D  SHEPHERD. 


dawn,  whofe  cheerful  ray 

Bids  all  nature's  beauties  rife, 
Were  thy  glories  doubly  gay, 

What  art  thou  to  Chloe's  eyes? 
Boaft  no  more  thy  rofy  light, 
If  Chloe  fmile  thee  into  night. 

Gentle  fpring,  whofe  kind  return 
Spreads  diifufwe  pleafure  round, 

Bids  each  breaft  enamour'd  burn, 

And  each  flame  with  blifs  be  crown'd ; 

Should  my  Chioe  leave  the  plain, 

Fell  winter  foon  would  blafl  thy  reign. 

Ev'ry  charm,  whofe  high  delight 

Senfe  enjoys,  or  foul  admires ; 
All  that  ardour  can  excite, 

All  excited  love  requires, 
All  that  heav'n  or  earth  call  fair, 
View  Chloe's  face,  and  read  it  there. 

A  PASTORAL  SONG. 

SANDY,  the  gay,  the  blooming  fwain, 
Had  lang  trae  love  been  free ; 

Lang  made  ilk  heart  that  fill'd  the  plain 
Dance  quick  with  harmlefs  glee. 

As  blythfome  Iambs  that  fcour  the  green. 
His  mind,  was  unconilrain'd ; 

Nae  face  could  ever  fix  his  een,  ' 
Nae  fang  his  ear  detain'd. 

Ah !  lucklefs  youth !  a  fhort-liv'd  joy 

Thy  cruel  fates  decree ; 
Fell  tods  (hall  on  thy  lambkins  prey, 

And  love  mair  fell  on  thee. 

*Twas  e'er  the  fun  exhal'd  the  dew, 

Ae  morn  of  cheerful  May, 
Forth  Girzy  walk'd,  the  flow'rs  to  view, 

A  flow'r  mair  fweet  than  they ! 

Like  funbeams  flieen  her  waving  locks; 

Her  een  like  flars  were  bright ; 
The  rofe  lent  blufhes  to  her  cheek ; 

The  lily  pureft  white. 

Jimp  was  her  waift,  like  fome  tall  pine 
That  keeps  the  woods  in  awe; 

Her  limbs  like  iv'ry  columns  turn'd, 
Her  breafts,  like  hills  of  Inaw. 

Her  robe  around  her  loofely  thrown, 

Gave  to  the  fhepherd's  een 
What  fearlefs  innocence  would  Qiow ; 

The  reft  was  all  unfeen. 


[e  fix'd  his  look,  he  figh'd,  he  quak'd, 

His  colour  went  and  came  ; 
)ark  grew  his  een,  his  ears  refound, 

His  breaft  was  all  on  flame. 

<!ae  mair  yon  glen  repeats  his  fang, 

He  jokes  and  fmiles  nae  mair ; 
Jnplaited  now  his  cravat  hung, 

Undreit  his  chefnut  hair. 

!"o  him  how  lang  the  fhorteft  night ! 

How  dark  the  brighteft  day  ! 
.'ill,  with  the  flow  coufuming  fire, 

His  life  was  worn  away. 

'ar,  far  frae  fhepherds  and  their  Socks, 

Oppreft  with  care,  he  lean'd; 
And,  in  a  mirky,  beachen  ihade, 

To  hills  and  dales  thus  plean'd: 

At  length,  my  wayward  heart,  return, 
'1  oo  tar,  alas !  aitray  : 
Say,  whence  yon  caught  that  bitter  fmart, 
Which  works  me  inch  decay. 

Ay  me  !  'twas  Love,  'twas  Girzy 's  charms, 

That  firft  began  my  woes ; 
Could  he  iae  fait,  or  fhe  iae  fair, 

Prove  fetch  relentlcis  foes  ? 

Fierce  winter  nips  the  fweeteft  flower; 

Keen  lightning  rives  the  tree  ; 
Bleak  mildew  taints  the  faircft  crop, 

And  love  has  blafled  me. 

Sagacious  hounds  the  foxes  chafe ; 

The  tender  lambkins  they ; 
Lambs  follow  clofe  their  mother  ewes, 

And  ewes  the  blooms  of  May. 

Sith  a'  that  live,  with  a'  their  might, 

Some  dear  delight  purfue  ; 
Ceafe,  nuhlefs  maid  !  to  fcorn  the  heart 

1  hat  only  pants  for  you. 

Alas!   for  griefs,  to  her  unken'd, 

What  pity  can  1  gain  ? 
And  fhouid  fhe  ken,  yet  love  refufe, 

Could  that  redrefs  my  pain  ? 

Come,  death,  my  wan,  my  frozen  bride, 
Ah  J  clofe  thole  wearied  eyes : 

But  death  the  happy  itili  purfues, 
Still  from  the  wretched  fliet. 

Could  wealth  avail ;  what  wealth  is  mine 
Her  high-born  mind  to  bend  / 

Her's  are  thofe  -vide  delightful  plains, 
And  aer's  the  flocks  1  tend. 

What  though,  whene'er  I  tun'd  my  pipe, 

Glad  fairies  heard  the  found, 
And,  clad  in  frefheft  April  green, 

Aft  tript  the  circle  round : 

Break,  landward  clown,  thy  dinfome  reed, 

And  brag  thy  flcill  nae  mair ; 
Can  aught  that  gies  na  Girzy  joy,j 

Be  worth  thy  lighteft  care  ? 

Adieu !   ye  harmlefs,  fportivc  flocks ! 

Who  now  your  lives  fhall  guard  ? 
Adieu !  my  faithful  dog,  who  oft 

The  pleafiflg  vigil  fhar'd ; 


POEMS. 


Adieu  !  ye  plains,  and  light,  anes  fweet, 

Now  painful  to  my  view  : 
Adieu  to  life  ;  and  thou,  mair  dear, 

Who  caus'd  my  death  ;  adieu  !" 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  STELLA  : 

A    PASTORAL. 
INSCRIBED    TO    HER    SISTER. 

"  See  on  thofe  ruby  lips  the  trembling  breath, 
"  Thole  cheeks  now  faded  at  the  blaft  of  death  ; 
«'  Cold  is  that  breaft  which  warm'd  the  world 

"  before  ; 

"  And  thofe  love-darting  eyesfhallrollno  more." 

POPE. 

Now  purple  ev'ning  ting'd  the  blue  ferene, 
And  milder  breezes  fann'd  the  verdant  plain  ; 
Beneath  a  blafted  cak's  portentous  iliade, 
To  fpeak  his  grief,  a  penfive  fwain  was  laid  : 
Birds  ceas'd  to  warble  at  the  mournful  found; 
1  he  laughing  lanclfcape  faclden'd  all  around  : 
For  Stella's  fate  he  brcath'd  his  tuneful  moan, 
Love,  beauty,  virtue,  mourn  your  darling  gone! 

"  O  thou  !  by  ftronger  ties  than  blood  ally'd, 
.  Who  dy'd  to  pleafure,  when  *a  lifter  dy'd; 
Thou  living  image  of  thole  charms  we  loft, 
Charms  which  exulting  nature  once  might  boaft  ! 
Indulge  the  plaintive  mufe,  whofe  fimple  ftrain 
Repeats  the  herat-felt  anguifh  of  the  fwain  : 
t'oi  Stella's  fate  thus  flovv'd  his  tuneful  moan, 
Love,  beauty,  virtue:  mourn  your  darling  gone  ! 

Are  happinefs  and  joy  for  ever  fled, 
Nor  haunt  the  twilight  grove  nor  funny  glade  ? 
Ah  !  fled  for  ever  from  my  longing  eye  ; 
With  Sttila  born,  with  Stella  too  they  die: 
Die,  or  with  me  your  brighteft  image  moan  ; 
Love,  beauty,  virtue,  mourn  your  darling  gone  ! 

Sweet  to  the  thirfty  tongue  the  cryftal-ftream, 
To  nightly  wand  'r  rs  fweet  the  morning  beam  j 
Sweet  to  the  wither*  d  grafs  the  gentle  fhow'r  ; 
To  the  fond  lover  fweet  the  nuptial  hour  ; 
Sweet  fragrant  gardens  to  the  lab'ring  bee, 
And  lovely  Stella  once  was  hcav'n  to  me  : 
That  heav'n  is  faded,  and  thofe  joys  are  flown, 
Love,  beauty,  virtue,  mourn  your  darling  gone  ! 

•Ah  !  where  is  now  that  form  which  charm'd  my 

fight  ? 

Ah!  where  that  wifdom,fparklingheav'nly  bright 
Ah  !  where  that  fweetnefs  like  the  lay*  of  fpring, 
When  breathe  its  flow'rs,  and  all  its  warblers  fing? 
l\ow  fade,  ye  flow'rs,  ye  warblers,  join  my  moan 
Love,  beauty,  virtue,  mourn  your  darling  done  .' 

Ah  me  !  though  winter  defolate  the  field, 
Again  fhali  flow'rs  their  blended  odours  yield  ; 
Again  (hall  birds  the  vernal  feafon  hail, 
And  beauty  paint,  and  mufic  charm  the  vale  : 
But  fhe  no  more  to  blefs  me  fliall  appear  ; 
>xo  more  her  angel  voice  enchant  my  ear  ; 
No  more  her  angel  fmile  relieve  my  moan  : 
Love,  beauty,  virtue,  mourn  your  darling  gone  ! 


*   Mr:.  Hl'CutlocL,  a  Lady 
•-    ptrfoHal  grr.cc   and  qua: 
ad>.rn  btrjex  and  nst^is. 


minJ, 


He  ceas'd ;  for  mighty  grief  his  voice  fuppreft, 
?hill'd  all  his  veins,  and  ftruggled  in  his  bread  ; 
rom  his  wan  cheek  the  rofy  tincture  flies; 
'he  iuitre  languifh'd  iii  his  doling  eyes: 

00  foon  fhall  life  return, unhappy  twain'. 
f,  with  returning  fenle,  returns  thy  pain. 

dills,  woods,  and  ft  reams,  re  found  the  fhepherd'» 

moan  ; 
,ove,  beauty,  virtue,  mourn  your  darling  gone! 

A  PASTORAL. 

INSCRIBED    TO    EUANTHE. 

WHITST  I  rehearfe  unhappy  Damon's  lays, 
At  which  his  fleecy  charge  forgot  to  graze, 

drooping  heads  and  griev'd  attention,  ftood, 
frifk'd  the  green,  nor  fought  the  ncighb'iiiig 

flood ; 

F.fiential  f*eetnefs!  deign  with  me  to  ftray, 
Where  yon  clofe  (hades  exclude  the  heat  of  day; 
Or  where  yon  fountain  murmurs  foft  along, 
Mixt  with  his  tears,  and  vocal  to  his  fong; 

1  here  hear  the  lad  relation  of  his  fate, 
And  pity  all  the  pains  thy  charms  create. 

dole  in  th'  adjacent  fhade,  conceal' d  from  view, 
I  ftaid,  and  heard  him  thus  his  griefs  pnrfue  : 

"  Awake,  my  mufe !  the  foft  .Sicilian  ftrain; 
Mild  gleams  the  purple  ev'ning  o'er  the  plain; 
Mild  Ian  the  breezes,  mild  the  waters  flow, 
And  heav'n  and  earth  an  equal  quiet  know ; 
With  eafc  the  fhcpherds  and  tluir  flock*  arc  bleft, 
An/,  ev'ry  grief,  but  mine,  confents  to  reft. 

Awake,  my  mufe,  the  foft  Sicilian  ftrain; 
Sicilian  numbers  may  delude  my  pain: 
The  thirfty  field,  which  fcorching  heat  devours, 
Is  ne'er  lupply'd, though  heav'n  defcend  in  fbow'rsj 
1-rom  flow'r  to  flow'r  the  bee  Itill  plies  her  wing, 
Of  fweets  infatiate,  though  Ihe  drain  the  fpring  : 
Still  from  thole  eyes  love  calls  their  liquid 'ftcre, 
And,  when  their  currents  fail,  ftill  thirlls  for  more. 

Awake,  my  mufe !  the  foft  Sicilian  ftrain  : 
Yet  why  to  ruthlefs  ftorms  fhould  I  complain  ? 
Deaf  ftorms  and  death  itfelf  complaints  may  move, 
But  groans  are  mufic  to  the  tyrant  love. 
O  love  !  thy  genius  and  thy  force  I  know, 
Thy  burning  torch,  and  pcftilcdtial  bow : 
From  fome  fermented  tempeft  of  the  main, 
At  once  commenc'd  thy  being,  and  thy  reign; 
Nurs'd  by  fell  harpies  in  Ibme  howling  wood, 
Inur'd  to  fia.ugh.ter,  and  regal' d  with  biood  : 
Kelentlefs  niilchief !  ar  whole  dire  command, 
A  mother  ftain'd  with  filial  blood  her  hand  : 
Curit  boy!  curft  mother  !  which  moft  impious,  fay, 
She  who  could  wound,  or  he  who  could  betray  ! 

Awake,  my  mufe !  the  foft  Siciikui  fli  am  : 
Frem  love  thofe  fighs  I  breathe,  thole  plagues  fufhiin. 
Why  did  I  firft  Euanthe's  charms  admire, 
Blefs  the  foft  fmart,  and  fan  the  growing  fire? 
Why,  happy  ftill  my  danger  to  conceal, 
Could  I  no  ruin,  fear,  till  lure  tefeel  ? 
So  fecks  the  fwain  by  night  his  doubtful  way, 
Led  by  th'  infidious  meteor's  fleeting  ray; 
Still  on,  attracted  by  th'  illuuve  beam, 
He  tempts  the  faithlefs  marfh,  or  fatal  ftrcam : 
Away  with  fcorn  the  laughing  demon  flies, 
While  fhades  eternal  feal  the  wretch's  eyes. 
Awake,  my  mufe  !  the  foft  Sicilian  ftrain 
Ah !  can  co  hit,  no  darling  hope  remain, 


THE  WORKS  OF  B L  A.CK.LO CR. 


Round  which  my  foal  with  all  her  ftrength  may 

twine, 

And,  tlu;iuii  biu  flatter'd,  call  the  treafure  mine? 
Wretch!  to  the  c  armer'sfphere  canft  thou  alcend, 
Or  dar'lt  thou  lancy  fhc  to  thee  will  bend  ? 
Say,  fliall  the  chiro»n ;  grafhopper  aflume 
The  varied  accent,  and  the  loaning  plume; 
Or  fliall  that  oak,  the  tailed  of  his  race, 
Stout)  to  his  root,  and  meet  yon  flirub's  embrace  ? 

Awake,  my  mule  1  the  foil  Sicilian  ftrain » 
Thole  pallid  checks  how  long  fhall  Ibrrow  ftain  ? 
Well  I  remember,  O  my  foul !  too  well, 
When  in  the  fnare  of  fate  I  thoughtlefs  fell: 
Languid  and  fick,  flic  fought  the  diltant  fhad-e, 
Where.  l<-d  by  love  or  deltiny,  I  ftray'd  : 
There,  from   the  nymphs   retir'd   deprefs'd  (ke 

lay, 

To  unremitting  pain  a  ftniling  prey  : 
Ev'n  then  I  favv  her,  as  an  angel,  bright: 
I  faw,  I  lov'd.  I  perifh'd  at  the  fight ; 
I  figh'd,  I  blufh'd,  I  gaz'd  with  fix'd  lurprife, 
And  all  my  foul  hung  raptur'd  m  my  eyes. 

Forbear,  my  mufe  '.  the  foft  Sicilian  llrain  ; 
Which  heav'n  beftows,  and  art  refines,  in  vain  ; 
What  though  the  heav'u-born  mufe  my  terrjples 

fliade 

With  wreaths  of  fame,  and  bays  that  never  fade  ? 
What  though  the  Sylvan  pow'rs,  while  I  com 
plain, 

Attend  my  flocks,  and  patronize  my  ftrain  ? 
On  me  my  ftars,  nor  gifts,  but  ills  bellow, 
And  all  the  change  I  feel,  is  change  of  woe. 
But  fee  yon  rock  projected  o'er  the  main, 
Whofe  giddy  proipe^l  turns  the  gazer's  brain  : 
Object  is  loit  beneath  its  vaft  profound, 
And  deep  and  hoarie  below  the  furges  found  : 
Oft,  while  th'  unthinking  world  is  loft  in  fleep, 
My  fable  genius  tempts  me  to  the  fteep; 
In  fancy's  view  bidsendlefs  horrors  move, 
A  barren  fortune,  and  a  hopelefs  love, 
Life  has  no  charms  for  me  ;  why  longer  ftay  ? 
I  hear  the  gloomy  mandate,  and  obey. 
What  1  fall  the  victim  of  a  mean  delpair, 
And  crown  the  triumph  of  the  cruel  fair  ? 
Vo,  let  me  once  fome  confcious  merit  (how, 
And  tell  the  world,  1  can  furvive  my  woe. 

Forbear  my  mufe  !  the  foft  Sicilian  ftrain  : 
Fool  1   wretched    fool !    what    frenzy    fires    thy 

brain? 

•  See,  chok'd  with  weeds,  thy  languid  fiow'rs  re 
cline, 

Thy  ftieep  unguarded,  and  unprop'd  thy  vine. 
At  lengtji  recalPd,  to  toil  thy  hands  inure, 
Or  weave  the  bafket,  or  the  fold  fecure. 

What  though  her  cheeks  a  living  biufh  difplay, 
Pure  as  the  dawn  of  heav'n's  unclouded  day  j 
Though  love  from  ev'ry  glance  an  arrow  wings, 
And  all  the  mufes  warble,  when  (he  fings  ? 
Torbear,  my  mufe  !  the  foft  Sicilian  ftrain  ; 
8ome   nymph,   as  fair,    a  fprightlier   note  may 

gain: 

There  are  who  know  to  prize  more  genuine  charms, 
Which  genius  brightens,  and  which  virtue  warms  : 
rorbear.'my  mufe  !  the  foft  Sicilian  ftrain  ; 
Some  nymph,  as  fair,  may  fraile,  though  fhe  dif- 


THE  PLAINTIVE  SHEPHERD.. 

A  PASTORAL  ELEGY. 

"  Eheu  !  quidvoluimiferomihi?  floribuj  auftrum 
"  Ttrditus,  et  liquidis  immifi  fontibus  apros. 

VIRG. 

COLIN,  whofe  lays  the  fhepherdsall  admire, 
For  Phoebe  long  conf'um'd  with  hopelt-fs  fire; 
Nor  durit  his  tongue  the  hidden  faiart  convey*. 
Nor  tears  the  torment  of  his  foul  betray  : 
But  to  the  wiidnefs  of  the  woods  he  flies, 
And  vents  his  grief  in  unregarded  fighs  : 
Ye  confcious  woods,  who  ftill  the  found  retail^ 
Repeat  the  tuneful  forrows  of  the  fwain. 

"  And  muft  I  peri (h  then,  ah  cruel  maid'. 
To  early  fate,  by  love  of  thee  betray'd  ? 
And  can  no  tender  art  thy  foul  fubdue, 
Me,  dying  me,  with  milder  eyes  to  view  ? 
The  flow'r  that  withers  in  itsop'ning  bloom, 
Robb'd  of  its  charming  dyes,  and  fweet  perfume  } 
I  he  tender  lamb  that  prematurely  pines, 
And  life's  unladed  joys  at  once  refigns; 
For  thefe  thy  tears  in  copious  tributes  flow, 
For  thefe  thy  bolbm  heaves  with  tender  woe  ? 
And  can'ft  thou  then  with  tears  their  fate  furvey. 
While,  blafted  by  thy  coldnefs,  I  decay  ? 

"  And  now  the  fwains  each  to  their  cots  are  fled, 
Ai»d  net  a  warble  echoes  through  the  mead;  . 
Now  to  their  folds  the  panting  flocks  retrtat, 
Scorch'd  with  the  fummer  noon's  relentlefs  heat : 
From  fummer's  heat  the  diadem  a  refuge  prove  ; 
Bat  what  can  fliield  my  heart  from  fiercer  love  ? 
All- bounteous  nature  taught  the  fertile  rield, 
For  all  our  other  ills  a  balm  to  yield } 
Eat  love,  the  fharpeft  pang  the  foul  fuftains, 
Still  cruel  love  incurable  remains. 

"Yet,  dear  defiroyer  !  yet  my  fuff'rings  hearf 
By  love's  kind  look,  and-pity's  facrtd  tear, 
By  the  Itrong  griefs  that  in  my  bofom  roll, 
By  all  the  native  goodnefs  of  thy  foul, 
Regard  my  bloom  decliniug  to  the  grave, 
And,  like  eternal  Mercy,  finile  and  lave. 

"  What  though  no  founding  namesmy  race  adorn; 
Suftain'd  by  labour,  and  obfcurely  born ; 
With  faireft  fiow'rs  the  humble  vales  are  fpread, 
While  endlefs  tempefts  beat  the  mountain's  head. 
What  though  by  fate  no  riches  are  my  fhare-, 
Riches  are  parents  of  eternal  care ; 
\\  hile,  in  the  lowly  hut  and  filent  grove, 
Content  plays  fmiling  with  her  filler  Love. 
What  though  no  native  charms  my  perftm  gracey 
Nor  beauty  moulds  my  form,  nor  paints  ray  face  ; . 
The  fweeteft  fruit  may  often  pall  the  tafle, 
While  floes  and  brambles  yield  a  fafe  repaft." 

Ah  !  prompt  to  hope,  forbear  thy  fruitlefs  ftrain ; 
Thy  hopes  are  frantic,  and  thy  lays  are  vain. 
Say,  can  thy  -fong  appeafe  the  ftormy  deep, 
Or  lull  the  impetuous  hurricane  afleep? 
Thy  numbers  then  her  lledfaft  foul  may  move, 
And  change  the  ptirpofe  of  determin'd  love 

Die,  Colin,  die,  nor  groan  with  grief  cppreil; 
Another  image  triumphs  in  her  breaft  ; 
Another  foon  (hall  call  the  fair  his  own, 
And  heav'n  and  fate  fecm  pleas'd  their  vows  t« 
crown. 


O    B    M    S. 


Arife,  Menaicaj,  with  the  cfawn  arife  ; 
~or  tti-e  thy  Phoebe  looks  with  longing  eyes; 
For  tlu-e  rhe-ihepherds.  a  deligh.ted  throng, 
Wake  the  loft  reed,  and  hymeneal  fon-^  ; 
For  rhee  the  hafty  virgins  rob  the  fpring. 
And,  wrought  with  care,  the  nuptial  garland  bring. 
Ante.   Menalcas,  with  the  dawn  arife  ; 
Ev'n  time  for  thee  witli  doable  fwiftnefs  flies  : 
Hours  urging  hours,  with  all  their  fpeed  retire, 
To  give  thy  foul  whate'er  it  can  defiie. 

Yet,  when  the  prieft  prepares  the  rites  divine, 
And  when  her  trembling  hand  is  clafp'd  in  thine, 
Let  n.)t  thy  heart  too  foon  indulge  its  joys ; 
Bat  think  on  him  whom  thy  delight  deftroys  ! 
Thee  too  he  lov'd  ;  to  thee  his  fimple  heart, 
With  eafy  faith  and  fondnefs  brevth'd  its  fmart : 
So  fools  their  flocks  to  fanguine  wolves  refign, 
So  truft  the  cunning  for  to  prune  the  vine. 
Think  thou  behold'it  him  from  fome gaping  wound 
Effufe  his  foul,  and  ftain  with  blood  the  ground  : 
Think,  xvhile  to  earth  his  pale  remains  they  bear, 
Hii  friends  with  fliriekinglbrrow  pierce  thine  ear : 
Or,  to  fome  torrent's  headlong  rage  a  prey, 
Think  thou  behold'it  him  floating  to  the  fea. 

But  now  the  fun  declines  his  radiant  head, 
And  rifing  hills  project  a  lengthening  (hade  : 
Again  tobrowze  the  green  the  flocks  reiurn, 
Again  the  fwains  to  fport,  and  I  to  mourn  : 
I  homeward  too  muft  bend  my  painful  way, 
Left  old  Damoetas  llernly  chide  my  ftay. 

DEStDEllIUM  LUTETL/E ; 

FROM  BUCHANAN,  AN  ALLEGORICAL  PASTORAL, 
IN  WHICH  HE  REGRETS  HIS  ABSENCE  FROM 
PARIS,  IMITATED. 

WHILE  far  remote,  thy  fwain,  dear  Chloe  !  fighs, 
Depriv'd  the  vital  funfhine  of  thine  eyes ; 
Seven  fummer  heats  already  warm  the  plains ; 
In  ftorms  and    fnow    the    fcv'nth   bleak  winter 

reigns : 

Yet  not  feven  years  revolving  fad  anil  (low, 
Nor  fumrner's  heats,  nor  winter's  Storms  and  fnoxv, 
Can  to  my  fcul  the  fmalleifr  eafe  procure, 
tir  free  from  love  and  care  one  tedious  hour. 

Thee,  when  froin  heav'n  defcend  the  dews  of 

morn, 

To  crop  the  verdant  mead  when  flocks  return  ; 
Thee,  when  the  fun  ha>  compafs'd  half  his  way, 
And  darts  around  unfuffcrable  day ; 
Thee,  when  the  ev'ning  o'er  the  world  difplay'd, 
From  rifing  hills  projects  a  lengthening  fliade  ; 
Thee  ftill  I  (ing,  unweary'd  of  my  theme, 
Source  of  my  long,  and  object  of  my  flame  ! 
tv'n  night,  in  whofe  dark  bofom  nature  laid, 
Appears  one  blank,  one  undifttnguirti'd  fhade, 
Ev'n  night  in  -vain,  with  all  her  horrors  tries 
To  blot  thy  lovely  form  from  fancy's  eyes. 

When  Ihort-liv'd  flumbers,  long  invok'd,  de 
fcend, 

To  footh  each  care,  and  ev'ry  fenfc  fufpend, 
Yull  to  my  fight  once  more  thy  charms  appear ; 
Once  more  my  ardent  vows  falute  thine  ear; 
Once  more  my  anxious  foul,  awake  to  blifs, 
Feels,  hears,  detains  thee  in  her  clcfe  embrace  : 


In  flutt'ring.  thrilling,  glowing  tr?.nfport  toft, 
Till  fenfe  itieif in  keen  delight  i->  loir. 

From  flc-ep  I  wake  ;  but,  oh  !  how  chang'd  the 

fcene ! 

The  charms  illufive,  and  the  pleafure  vain  ! 
The  day  returns  ;  but  ah  !  returning  riay. 
When  ev'ry  grief  but  mine  admits  allay, 
On  thefe  fad  eyes  its  glory  darts  in  vain  ; 
Its  light  reftor'd,  reftores  my  foul  to  pain. 

The  houfe  I  fly,  impell'd  by  wild  delpair, 
As  if  my  griefs  could  only  find  me  there. 
Loll  to  the  world,  through  lonely  fields  I  rove  ; 
Vain  wifli !  to  fly  from  cieftiny  and  love  ! 
By  wayward  frenzy's  reftlefs  impulfe  led, 
Through  devious  wilds,  with  heedlcfs  courfo,  I 

tread  : 

The  cave  remote»  the  dufky  wood  explore, 
Where  human  ftep  was  ne'er  impreft  before: 
And,  with  the  native  accents  of  defpair, 
Fatigue  the  confcious  rocks,  and  deiert  air. 
Kind  echo,  faithful  to  my  plaints  alone, 
Sigh  all  my  fighs,  and  groans  to  ev'ry  groatu 
The  dreams,  familiar  to  the  voice  of  woe, 
Each  mournful  found  remurmur  as  they  flow* 

Oft  on  fome  rock  diftracted  I  complain. 
Which  hangs  projected  o'er  the  ruffl'd  main  : 
Oft  view  the  azure  furges  as  they  roll, 
And  to  deaf  Itorms  efiufe  my  frantic  foul. 
"  Attend  my  forrows,  O  cerulean  tide  ! 
"   Ye  blue-ey'd  nymphs  that  through  the  billowj 

"  gl^e, 

"  Oh  !  waft  me  gently  o'er  your  rough  domais  ; 
"  Let  me  at  length  my  darling  coaft  attain ; 
"  Or,  if  iny  willies  thus  too  much  implore, 
"  Shipwreck'd  and  gafping  let  me  reach  the  fhore, 
"  While  wafh'd  along  the  floods  I  hold  my  way, 
u  To  ev'ry  wind  and  ev'ry  wave  a  prey, 
"  Dear  hope  and  lovp  fliall  bear  my  ftruggling; 

frame, 
'<  And  tmextingin'fli'd  keep  the  vital  flame.'* 

Oft  to  the  halt'ning  zephyrs  have  I  faid: 
"  You,  happy  gales  !  fliall  fan  my  lovely  maid. 
"  So  may  no  pointed  roCks  your  wings  deform  i 
"  So  may  your  fpeedy  journey  meet  no  ftorm. 
"   As  oft  you  whifper  ronnd  my  heav'nly  fair ; 
"  Play  on  her  hreaft,  or  wanton  with  her  hairs 
"  Faithful  to  love,  the  tender  meflage  bear, 
"  And  breathe  my  endlefs  forrows  in  her  ear.'* 

How  oft  rough  Eurus  have  I  alk'd  in  vain  ! 
As  with  fwift  wings  he  brufli'd  the  foamy  main : 
'•  Bleft   wind '.    who    late    my   diftaat   charmer 

"  view'd, 

"  Say,  has  her  foul  no  other  wifli  purfu'd  I 
"  With  mutual  fire,  fay,  does  her  bofom  glow ; 
"  Feels  fhe  my  wound,  and  pities  flie  my  woe  i*J 

Heedlefs  of  all  my  tears,  and  all  I  fay, 
The  winds,  xvith  bluft'ring  fury,  wing  their  way. 
A  freezing  horror,  and  a  chilling  pain, 
Shoots  through  my  heart,  and  ftagnates  ev'ry  veuv 
No  rural  pleafures  yield  my  foul  relief; 
No  melting  fliepherd's  pipe  confoles  my  grief; 
The  choral  nymphs,  that  dancing  cheer  the  plaiir. 
And  fauns,  though  fweet  their  long,  yet  fing  jp 

vain. 

Deaf  to  the  voice  of  joy,  my  tortm-d  mini 
Can  oaly  roam  far  love  and  anguirta  fiud  « 


THE   WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK. 


By  ihefe  my  foul  and  all  its  wiflies  caught, 
Can  to  no  other  object  yield  a  thought. 
Lycif.a,  flsilful  with  her  lyre  to  move 
Each  tender  wifti,  and  melt  the  foul  to  love  : 
Meitcnis  too,  with  ev'ry  fweetnefs  crovvn'd, 
By  nature  form'd  with  ev'ry  glance  to  wound  : 
With  emulation  both  my  love  purfue, 
And  both,  with  winning  arts,  my  paifion  woo. 
The  fremeft  bloom  of  youth  their  cheeks  difplay; 
Their  eyes  are  arm'd  with  beauty's  keenelt  ray  ; 
AVrice  itfelf  might  count  their  fleecy  ftore, 
(A  prize  beyond  its  xvifh)  '   and  pant  no  more. 
Me   oft  their  dow'rs  each  gen'rous  fire  has 

told, 

An  hundred  playful  younglings  from  the  fold, 
Each  with  his  dam  :  their  mothers  promife  more, 
And  oft,  and  long,  with  ferret  gifts,  implore. 
Me  nor  an  hundred  playful  younglings  move, 
Each  with  its  dam  ;  r.or  wealth  can  bribe  my 

love  , 

Nor  all  the  griefs  th'  imploring  mothers  fliow  ; 
Nor  all  the  ferret  gifts  they  would  bettow  ; 
Nor  all  the  tender  things  the  nymphs  can  fay  ; 
Nor  all  the  foft  defires  the  nymphs  betray. 

As  winter  to  the  fpring  in  beauty  yields, 
Languor  to  health,  and  rocks  to  verdant  fields ; 
As  ihe  fa:r  virgin's  cheek,  with  rofy  dye 
BluQiing  delight,  with  lightning  arm'd  her  eye, 
Beyond  her  mother's  faded  form  appears, 
Mark'd  with  the  wrinkles  and  the  fnow  of  years; 
As    beauteous     Tweed,    and     wealth-importing 

Thames 

Plow  each  the  envy  of  their  country's  ftreams : 
So,  lovlieft  of  her  fex,  my  heav'nly  maid 
Appears,  and  all  their  fainter  glories  fade. 

Melaenis,  whom  love's  foft  enchantments  arm, 
Replete  with  charms,  and  confcious  of  each  charm, 
Oft  on  the  glafly  ftream,  with  raptured  eyes, 
Surveys  her  form  in  mimic  fweetnefs  rife; 
Oft,  as  the  waters  pleas'd  reflect  her  face, 
Adjufts  her  locks,  and  heightens  ev'ry  grace  : 
Oft  thus  (he  tries,  with  all  her  tuneful  art, 
To  reach  the  foft  acceffe.-  of  my  heart. 
"  Unhappy  fwain,  whofe  wiflies  fondly  ftray, 
*'  To  flow-confuroing  fruitleis  fires  a  prey  ! 
"  Say,  will  thofe  fighs  and  tears  forever  flow 
"  In  hopelefs  torment,  and  determin'd  woe  ? 
*'  Our  fields,  by  nature's  bounty  bleft,  as  thine, 
"  The  mellow  aple  yield,  and  purple  vine  ; 
"  Thofe  too  thou  lov'ft ;   their  free  enjoyment 

«'  fhare, 
"  Nor  plant  vain  tedious  hopes,  and  reap  defpair." 

Me  oft  Lycifca,  in  the  feftive  tram, 
Views  as  (he  lightly  bounds  along  the  plain  : 
Straight,  with  diflembled  fcorn,  away  (lie  flies  : 
Yet  dill  on  me  obliquely  turns  her  eyes: 
"While,  to  the  mufic  of  her  trembling  firings, 
Amid  ft  the  dance  fweet  warbling,  thus  (lie  fings: 
"  No  tears  the  juft  revenge  of  Heav'n  can  move  ; 
«'  HeavVs  juft  revenge  will  punifli  flighted  love. 
*'  I've  feen  a  huntfman,  active  as  the  morn, 
"  Salute  her  earlieft  blufti  with  founding  horn  ; 
"  Purfue  the  bounding  (lag  with  op'ning  cries, 
"  And  flight  the  timid  hare,  his  eafy  prize  ; 
"  Then,  with  the  fetting  fun,  his  hounds  reftrain  ; 
«'  Nor  bounding  ftag,  nor  timid  hare  obtain. 


I've  feen  the  fportfman  latent  nets  difpiay, 
To  catch  the  feather d  warblers  of  the  fprayj 
Defpife  the  finch  that  fiutter'd  round  in  air, 
And  court  the  fweeter  linnet  to  hisfnare  : 
'  Yet  weary,  cold,  fuccefsiefs,  leave  the  plain  ;     . 
'  Nor  painted  finch,  nor  fweeter  linnet,  gain. 
I've  feen  a  youth  the  polifh'd  pipe  admire, 
And  fcorn  the  fimple  reed  the  fvvains  infpire  : 
"  The  fimple  reed  yet  cheers  each  tuneful  fwain  ; 
"  While  ftill  unbleft  the  fcorner  pines  in  vain. 
"  Thus  righteous  Heav'n  chaftifes  wanton  pride, 
"  And  bids  intemp'rateinfolence  fublide," 

Thus  breathe  the  am'rous  nymphs  their  fruitlefs 

pain, 

In  ears  impervious  to  the  foftefl  drain, 
But  firft  with  trembling  lambs  thewolf  (hall  graze; 
Firft  hawks  with  linnets  join  in  focial  lays  ; 
Firft  fhall  the  tiger's  fanguine  thirft  expire. 
And  tim'rous  fawns  the  lion  fierce  admire  ; 
Ere,  with  her  lute  Lycifca  taught  to  charm, 
This  deftin'd  heart  ere  foft  Meljenis  warm, 
"irft  fliall  the  finny  nation  leave  the  flood, 
Shadows  the  hills,  and  birds  the  vocal  wood  ; 
The  winds  (hall  ceafe  to  breathe,  the  ftreams  to 

flow; 

Ere  my  defires  another  object  know. 
This  infant  bofom,  yet  in  love  untaught : 
From  Chloe  firft  the  pleafmg  ardour  caught: 
Chloe  (hall  dill  its  faithful  empire  claim, 
Its  firft  ambition,  and  its  lateft  aim  '. 
Till  ev'ry  wifli  and  ev'ry  hope  be  o'er, 
And  life  and  love  infpire  my  frame  no  more. 

\  PHILANTHES  : 

A  MONODY. 
INSCRIBED  TO  MISS  D Y  H Y. 

Occajioned  by  a  feries  of  interejling  events  which 
•happened  at  Dumfries  on  Fridy,  June  12.  1752. 
.   particularly  that  of  her  father's  death. 

"  Quis  defiderio  fit  pudor,  aut  modus 

"  Tarn  chari  capitis?   Praecipe  lugubres 

"  Cantus  Melpomene,  cui  liquidam  pater 

"  Vocem  cum  cithara  dedit.1'         .    HOR. 

ARGUMENT. 

The  fubject  propofed. — Addrels  to  Mifs  H y. 

— General  reflections  infpired  by  the  fubject, 
and  previous  to  it. —  The  fcene  opens  with  a 

profpect  of  Mrs.  M n's  funeral  folemnity : 

and  changes  to  the  untimely  fate  of  a  beautiful 

youth,  fon  to  Mr.  J s  H 11,  whole  early 

genius,  quick  progrefs  in  learning,  and  gentle 
tlifpofitions,  infpired  his  friends  with  the  high- 
eft  expectations  of  his  riper  attainments  — 

Tranfition  to  the  death  of  Dr.  J s  H y 

phyfician  :  his  character  as  fuch  :  the  general 
forrow  occafioned  by  his  fate  :  his  character  as 
a  friend,  as  particularly  qualified  to  footh  dif- 
trefs  ;  as  a  gentleman ;  as  a  hufband  as  a  fa 
ther  :  his  lofs  considered  in  all  thefe  relations, 

particularly  as  fuftamed  by  Mifs  H y  :   her 

tender  care  of  him  during  his  ficknefs  defcrib- 
ed. — The  piece  concludes  with  an  apotheofis, 
in  imitation  of  Virgil's  Daphnis. 


POEMS. 


A  SWAIN,  whofe  foul  the  tuneful  nine  inflame, 
As  to  his  weftern  goal  the  fun  declin'd, 

Sung  to  the  lift'ning  fhades  no  common  theme  ; 
While  the  hoarfe  breathings  of  the  hollow  wind, 
And  deep  refounding  furge  in  concert  join'd. 
Deep  was  the  furge,  and  deep  the  plaintive  fong, 
While  all  the  folemn   fceue  in   mute  attention 

hung. 

Nor  thou,  fair  victim  of  fo  juft  a  woe  ! 
Though  (till  the  pangs  of  nature  fwell  thy  heart, 
Difdaiu  the  faithful  mufe  ;  whofe  numbers  flow 
Sacred,  alas  !  to  fympathetic  fmart : 
For  in  thy  griefs  the  mufes  claim  a  part ; 
'Tis  all  they  can,  in  focial  tears  to  mourn, 
And  deck  with  cyprefs  wreaths  thy  dear  pater 
nal  urn. 

The  fwain  began,  while  confcious  echoes  round 
Protract  to  fadder  length  his  doleful  lay. 
Roll  on,  ye  dreams,  in  cadence  more  profound  : 
Ye  humid  vapours,  veil  the  face  of  day : 

O'er  all  the  mournful  plain 

Let  night  and  forrow  reign  : 
For  #  Pan  indignant  from  his  fields  retires, 

Once  haunts  of  gay  delight ; 

Now  every  fenfe  they  fright, 
Refound  with  fhrieks  of'  woe,  and  blaze  with 
fun'ral  fires. 

What  though  the  radiant  fun  and  clement  fky 
Alternate  warmth  and  fhow'rs  difpenfe  below  ; 
Though  fpring  prefages  to  the  careful  eye, 
That  autumn  copious  with  her  fruits  (hall  glow? 
For  us  in  vain  her  choiceft  bleffings  flow  : 
To  eafe  the  bleeding  heart,  alas !  in  vain 
Rich  fwells  the  purple  grape,  or  waves  the  gold 
en  grain. 

What  fummer-breeze,  on  fwifteft.  pinions  borne, 
From  fate's  relentlefs  hand  its  prey  can  fave  ? 
What  fun  in  death's  dark  regions  waVe  the  morn, 
Or  warm  the  cold  recefles  of  the  grave?     [heave 
Ah  wretched  man  :  whofe  breaft  fcarce  learns  to 
With  kindling  life  :  when,  ere  thy  bud  is  blown, 
Eternal  winter  breathes,  and  all  its  fweets  are 
gone. 

Thou  all-enlivening  flame,  intenfely  bright ! 
Whofe  facred  beams  illume  each  wand'ring  fphere, 
That  through  high  heav'n  reflects  thy  trembling. 

light, 
Conducting  round  this  globe  the  varied  year  ; 

Ai  thou  purfu'ft  thy  way, 

Let  this  revolving  day, 
Deep-tingM  with  confcious  gloom,  roll  flow  along : 

In  fable  porno  array'd, 

Let  night  diffufe  her  llade, 
Nor  fport  the  cheerlefs  hind,  nor  chant  the  vocal 
throng. 

Scarce,  from  the  ardour  of  the  mid-day  gleam, 
Had  languid  nature  in  the  cool  relpir'd  ; 
Scarce,  by  the  margin  of  the  filver  ftream, 
Faint  fung  the  birds  in  verdant  lliades  retir'd  ; 
Scarce,  o'er  the  thir.ty  field  with  lun-£hine  fir'd, 
Had  ev'ning  gales  the  fportive  wing  effay'd, 
When  founds  of  hopelels  woe  the   filent  fccne 

invade. 

*  God  of  Arcadia,  ivbo  peculiarly  prefides  over 
rural  life. 


Sophronia,  long  for  cv'ry  virtue  dear 

That  grac'd  the  wife,  the  mother,  or  the  friend, 

Depriv'd  of  life,  now  prefs'd  the  mournful  bier, 

In  fad  proceflion  to  the  tomb  fuftain'd. 

Ah  me  '.  in  vain  to  heav'n  and  earth  complain'd 

With  tender  cries  her  num'rous  orphan  train  ; 

The  tears  of  wedded  love  profuie  were  flied  in 
vain. 

For  her,  was  grief  on  ev'ry  face  imprefs'd  ; 
For  her,  each  bofom  heav'd  with  tender  fighs: 
An  hufband  late  with  all  her  virtues  blefs'd, 
And  weeping  race  in  fad  ideas  rife  : 

For  her  deprefs'd  and  pale, 

Your  charms,  ye  Graces,  veil. 
Whom  to  adorn  was  once  your  chief  delight : 

Ye  virtues  all  deplore 

Your  image,  now  no  more, 
And  *  Hymen  quench  thy  torch  in  tears  and  end- 
lefs  night. 

Nor  yet  thefe  difmal  profpefts  difappear, 
When- o'er  the  weeping  plain  new  horrors  rife, 
And  louder  accents  pierce  each  frighted  ear, 
Accents  of  grief  embitter'd  by  furprife" ! 
Frantic  with  woe,  at  once  the  tumult  flies, 
To  fnatch  Adonis  walh'd  along  the  ftream, 
And  all  th*  extended  bank  re-echoes  to  his  name. 

Rang'd  on  the  brink  the  weeping  roatrons  ftand, 
The  lovely  wreck  of  fortune  to  furvey, 
While  o'er  the  flood  he  wav'd  his  beauteous  hand, 
Or  in  convulfive  anguifh  ftruggling  lay. 
By  flow  degrees  they  view'd  his  force  decay, 
In  fruitlefs  efforts  to  regain  the  fhore : 
They  view'd  and  mourn'd  his  fate  :  O  Heav'n  I 
they  could  no  more. 

Ye  f  Naiads,  guardians  of  the  fatal  flood, 
Was  beauty,  fweetnefs,  youth,  no  more  your  care? 
For  beauty,  fweetnefs,  youth,  your  pity  woo'd, 
Pow'rful  to  charm,  if  fate  could  learn  to  fpare. 

Stretch'd  on  cold  earth  he  lies ; 

While,  in  his  doling  eyes, 
No  more  the  heav'n-illumin'd  luftre  fliines; 

His  cheek,  once  nature's  pride, 

With  blooming  rofes  dy'd, 
To  unrelenting  fate  its  op'ning  blufli  refigns. 

Dear  haplefs  youth  !  what  felt  thy  mother's  heart, 
When  in  her  view  thy  lifelefs  form  was  laid  ? 
Such  anguifli  when  the  foul  and  body  part, 
Such  agonizing  pangs  the  frame  invade, 
Was  there  no  hand,  (he  cry'd,  my  child  to  aid? 
Ceuld  heav'n  and  earth  unmov'd  his  fall  furvey, 
Nor  from  th'  infatiate  waves  redeem  their  love 
ly  prey  ? 

Did  I  for  this  tny  tend'reft  cares  employ. 
To  mmrifli  and  improve  thy  early  bloom  ? 
Are  all  my  rifing  hopes,  my  promis'd  joy, 
Extindl  in  death's  inexorable  gloom? 
No  more  (hall  life  thofe  faded  charms  lelume, 

Dear  rip'ning  fweetnefs !  funk  no  more  to  rife '. 

Thee  nature  mourns,   like  me,  with  fond  ma 
ternal  eyes. 

Fortune  and  life,  your  gifts  how  infecure  ! 
How  fair  you  promife  !  but  how  ill  perform  \ 

*  God  of  marriage. 

f  River  Geddejes. 


THE  WORKS 

Like  tender  fruit,  th«y  perifh  premature, 
Scorch'd  by  the  beam,  or  whelm'd  beneath  the 
ftorm. 

For  thee  a  fate  more  kind, 

Thy  mother's  hopes  aflign'd, 
Than  thus  to  fink  in  early  youth  deplor'd  : 

But  late  thou  fled'it  my  fight, 

Thy  parent's  dear  delight ! 

And  art  thou  to  my  arms,  ah!  art  thou  thus  re- 
ftoi'd? 

Severe  thefe  ills ;  yet  heavier  ftill  impend, 
That  wound  with  livelier  grief  the  fnlarting  foul: 
As,  ere  the  long-colledled  (term  defcend, 
Ked  lightnings  flafh,  and  thunder  thakes  the  pole; 
Portentous,  folemn,  loud  its  murmurs  roll: 

While  from  the  fubject  field  the  trembling  hind 
Views  inftant  ruin  threat  the  labours  of  man 
kind. 

For  fcarce  the  bitter  Ggh  and  deep'ning  groan 
In  fainter  cadence  died  away  in  air, 
When,  lo  !  by  fate  a  deadlier  (haft  was  thrown, 
Which  open'd  ev'ry  fource  of  deep  defpair  : 
As  yet  our  fouls  thofe  recent  forrows  (hare, 
Swift  from  th'  adjacent  field  Menalcas  flies, 
"While  griff  impels  his  fteps,  and  tears  bedew 
his  eyes. 

Weep  on,  he  cry'd,  let  tears  no  meafure  know ; 
Hence  from  thofe  fields  let  pleafure  wing  her 

way. 

Ye  (hades,  be  hallow'd  from  this  hour  to  woe  : 
Ko  more  with  fummer's  pride,  ye  meads  be  gay. 

Ah  !  why,  with  fweetnefs  crowii'd, 

Should  fummer  fmile  around  ? 
fhilantb.es  now  is  number'd  with  the  dead-' 

Young  health,  all  drown'd  in  tears, 

A  livid  palenefs  wears ; 
j)im  are  her  radiant  eyes,  and  all  her  rofes  fade. 

Him  bright  *  Hygeia,  in  life's  early  dawn, 
Through  nature's  fav'rite  walks  with  tranfport 

led, 

Through  woods  umbrageous,  or  the  op'ning  lawn, 
Or  where  frefli  fountains  lave  the  flow'ry  mead  : 
There  fummer's  treafures  to  his  view  difplay'd, 
V/hat  herbs  and  flow'rs  falubrious  juice  beftow, 
Along  the  lowly  vale,  or  mountain's  arduous 
brow. 

•The  paralytic  nerve  his  art  confefs'd, 
Quick-panting  afthma,  and  consumption  pale  : 
Corrofive  pain  he  foften'd  into  reft, 
And  bade  the  fever's  rage  no  more  prevail. 
Unhappy  art !  decreed  at  laft  to  fail, 
Why  linger'd  then  thy  falutary  pow'r, 
Hor  from  a  life  fo  dear  repell'd  the  deuin'd 
hour  ? 

Your  griefs,  O  love  and  friend/hip,  how  fevere! 
When  high  to  henv'n  his  foul  purfu'd  her  flight ; 
Your  moving  olaints  (till  vibrate  on  my  ear, 
Still  the  fad  vifion  fwims  before  my  $ght. 
O'er  all  the  mournful  fcene, 
Iisconfolable  pain, 

*  Pe 


OF  BLACKLC7C1C, 


In  ev'ry  various  form,  appear  M  expre$  •- 
The  tear-diftiiiing  eye, 
The  long,  deep,  broken  Ggh, 

Diffolv'd  each  tender  foul,  and  heav'd  in 
brcaft. 

Such  were  their  woes,  and  oh  !  how  jufl,  how  due  I 
What  tears  could  equal  fuch  immenlc  diilrefs? 
Time,  cure  of  lighter  ills,  muft  ours  renew, 
And  years  the  fenfe  of  what  we  lofe  iacreafe. 
From  whom  (hall  now  the  wretched  hope  redrefs  ? 
Religion  where  a"  nobler  fubje<5t  find, 
So  favour'd  of  the  fkics,  fo  dear  to  human  kind  ? 

Fair  friendfhip,  fmiiing  on  his  natal  hour, 
The  babe  fele&ed  in  her  facred  train; 
She  bade  him  round  diffufive  bleffings  fliow'r, 
And  in  his  bofom  fix'i  her  fav'rite  fane, 
In  glory  thence  how  long,  yet  how  ferene, 

Her  vital  influence  fpreads  its  cheering  rays ! 

Worth  felt  the  genial  beam,  and  ripen'd  in  the 
blaze. 

As' lucid  ftreams  refrefh  the  fmiiing  plain, 
Op'ning  the  flow'rs  that  on  their  borders  grow  ; 
As  grateful  to  the  herb,  defcend'ng  rain, 
That  Cirunk  and  wither1  d  in  the  folar  glow  : 

So,  when  his  voice  wa*  heard, 

AfHi&ion  difappear'ii ; 
Pleafure  with  ravifh'd  earsimbib'd  the  found; 

Grief  with  its  fweetnefs  footh'd, 

Each  cloudy  feature  fmooth'd, 
And  ever-waking  care  forgot  th'  eternal  wound. 

Such  elegance  of  tafte,  fuch  graceful  eafe, 
Infus'd  by  Heav'n,  through  all  his  manners  fhone ; 
In  him  it  feem'd  to  join  whate'er  could  plfiafe, 
And  plan  the  full  perfection  from  its  own  : 
He  other  fields  and  other  fwaihs  had  known, 
Gentle  as  thofe  of  old  by  *  Phoebus  taught, 
When  polifh'd  with  his  lute,  like  him  they 
Ipokc  and  thought. 

Thus  form'd  alike  to  blefs,  and  to  be  blefs'd, 
Such  heav'nly  graces  kindred  graces  found  ; 
Her  gentle  turn  the  fame,  the  fanie  her  tafte, 
With  equal  worth  and  equal  candour  crown'd  : 
Long  may  fhe  fearch  creation's  ample  round, 

The  joys  of  fuch  a  friendfhip  to  explore; 

But,once  in  him  expir'd,  to  joy  fhe  lives  no  more* 

As  nature  to  her  works  fupremely  kind, 
His  tender  foul  with  all  the  parent  glovv'd, 
On  all  his  race,  hisgoodnefs  unconna'd, 
One  full  exhaufllefs  ftream  of  fondnefs  flow'd ; 

Pleas'd  as  each  genius  rofe, 

New  profpt&s  to  difclofe, 
To  form  the  mind,  and  raife  its  gen'rous  aim  j 

His  thoughts,  with  virtue  warm'd, 

At  once  mfpir'd  and  charm'd ; 
His  looks,  his  words,  his  fhiiles  transfus'd  the  fa« 
cred  flame. 

Say  ye,  whofe  minds  for  long  revolving  year* 
The  joys  of  fweet  fociety  have  known, 
Whofe  mutual  fondnefs  ev'ry  hour  endears, 
Whofe  pains,  whofe  pleafurcs,  and  whofe  fouls 
are  one; 

*  He  ivas  faid  to  polijb  tbefwains,  "ivtfK,  in  re* 
vc::gc  f;r  forging  tbe  bolt  "which  killed  bis  fin,  be  Jltui 
tht  Cytlofs, 


p  o 

O  !  fay,  for  you  can  judge,  and  you  alone, 

What  auguiihpierc'd  his  widow'dconfort's  heart, 
When  from  her  dearer  1'elf  for  ever  doom'd  to 
part. 

His  children  to  the  fcenc  of  death  repair, 

While  more  than  filial  forrow  bathes  their  eyes  ; 

His  fmiles  indulgent,  his  paternal  care, 

In  fadly-pleafing  recollection  rife  : 

But  young  Dbrinda,  with  diftinguifh'd  fighs, 

J'.fFufing  all  her  foul  in  foft  regret, 

Seems,  while  (lie  mourns  his  lofs,  to  fbare  a 
father's  fate. 

Wkcther  the  day  its  wonted  courfe  renew'd, 
Or  midnight  vigils  wrapt  the  world  in  fhade, 
Her  tender  tafk  ailiduous  flic  purfu'd, 
To  footh  his  anguifh,  or  his  wants  to  aid ; 

To  foften  ev'ry  pain, 

The  meaning  look  explain, 
And  fcan  the  forming  wifh  ere  yet  exprefs'd: 

The  dyinj  rather  I'mii'd 

"With  fondocfi  on  his  child, 
And,  when  his  tongue  was  mute,  his  eyes  her 
goodnefs  blefs'd. 

At  length,  fair  mourner !  ccafe  thy  rifing  woe : 
Its  object  It  ill  furviving  leeks  the  Ikies, 
Where  brighter  funs  in  happier  climates  glow, 
,And  ampler  fcenes  with  height'ning  chajrms  fur- 

prife  : 

There  perfect  life  thy  much  lov'd  fire  enjoys, 
The  life  of  gods,  exempt  from  grief  and  pain, 
Where,  in  immortal  brealts,  ininwul   tranf- 
ports  reign. 

Ye  mourning  fwains.your  loud  complaints  forbear ; 
Still  he,  the  genius  of  our  green  retrc.it, 
Shall  with  benignant  care  our  labours  che^r, 
And  banifh  far  each  (hock  of  adverfe  fate  ; 
Mild  funs  and  gentle  ihow'rs  on  fpring  (hall  wait, 
His  hand  with  ev'ry  fruit  ftiall  autumn  (lore  : 
In  Heav'n  your  patron  reigns,   ye   fhephcrds 
weep  no  mure. 

Henceforth  his  pow'r  lhall  with  your  *  Lares  jwin, 
To  bid  your  cots  with  peace  and  pleafure  Tmile ; 
To  bid  difeafc  and  languor  ceafe  to!  pine, 
And  fair  abundance  crown  each  rural  toil: 

While  birds  their  laysrefume, 

And  fyring  her  annual  bloom, 
Let  verdant  wreaths  his  facred  torhb  adorn ; 

To  him,  each  riling  <iay, 

Devout  libations  pay  : 

In  Heav'n  your  patron  reigns,  no  more  ye  fhep- 
herds  mourn. 

THE  WISH. 

AN   EI.KGV. 

Tt  Urania. 

"  Felices  ter,  et  amplius, 

"  QJJOS  irrupta  tenet  copula,  nee  malis 
"  Divuliiis  queriraoniis 

"  Suprema  citius  Iblvet  amor  die." 

HOB. 

others  travel,  with  inceflant  pain, 
The  wealth  of  earth  and  ocean  to  fecure  j 


Vet.  XI. 


E  M  s.  his 

Then,  -with  fond  hopes,  carcfs  the  precious  bane  ; 
In  grandeur  abjecS,  and  in  affluence  poor. 

But  foon,  too  fbon,  in  fancy's  timid  eyes, 

Wild  waves  fhall  roll,  and  conflagrations  fpread; 

Wh'ilc  bright  in  arms,  and  of  gigantic  fize, 
The  fear-form'd  robber  haunts  the  thorny  bed. 

Let  me,  in  dreadlefs  poverty  retir'd, 
The  real  joys  of  life,  unenvied,  fhare  : 

Favour' d  by  love,  and  by  the  mufe  infpif'd, 
Til  yield  to  wealth  its  jealoufy  and  care. 

On  rifing  ground,  the  profpeft  to  command, 
Unting'dwithfrnoke,  where  vernalbree2esblow{ 

In  rural  iieatnefs.  let  my  cottage  ftand; 

Here  wave  a  wood,  and  there  a  river  flow. 

Oft  from  i!he  ncighb'ring  hills  and  paftures  roundj 
Let  iheep  with  tender  bleat  f'alute  my  ear  ; 

Nor  fox  infidious  haunt  the  guiltleis  ground, 
Nor  man  purfue  the  trade  of  murder  near  : 

Far  hence,  kind  Heav'n  !  expel  the  favage  train, 
Inur'd  to  blood,  and  eager  to  deftroy ; 

Who  pointed  fleel  with  recent  flaughter  ftain, 
And  place  in  groans  and  death  their  cruel  joy, 

Ye  pow'fs  of  focial  li'fe  and  tender  fong  ! 

To  you  devoted  fliall  my  fields  remain  ; 
Here  undifturb'd  the  peaceful  day  prolong, 

Nor  own  a  fmart  but  love's  delightful  pain. 

For  you  my  trees  fliall  wave  their  leafy  fhade  ; 

For  you  my  gardens  tinge  the  lenient  air; 
For  ydu  he  autumn's  blufhing  gifts  difplay'd, 

And  all  that  nature  yields  of  fweef  or  fair. 

But  O  !  if  plaints,  which  love  and  grief  infpire, 
In  heav'nly  breafts  could  e'er  compafiion  find, 

Grant  me,  ah  !  grant  my  heart's  fupreme  defire,' 
And  teach  my  dear  Urania  to  be  Itind. 

For  her,  black  fadnefs  clouds  rny  brighteft  day  j 
Fo'r  her,  in  tears  the  midnight  vigils  roll ; 

For  her,  cold  horrors  melt  my  pow'rs  away, 
And  chill  the  living  vigour  oi  my  foul. 

Beneath  her  fcorn  each  youthful  ardour  dies, 
Its  joys,  its'wiflies,  and  its  hopes  expire; 

In  vain  the  fields  of  icience  tempt  my  eyes  ; 
In  vain  for  me  the  mufes  llring  the  lyre. 

O  !  let  her  oft  my  humble  dwelling  grace, 
Humble  no  more,  if  there  fhe  deign  to'flune; 

For  Heav'n,  unlimited  by  time  or  place, 

IStill  waits  on  godlike  worth  and  charms  divine. 

Amid  the  cooling  fragrance  of  the  morn, 

How  Iweet  with  her  through  lonely  fields  to  ftr  ay } 

Her  charms  the  loveliell  landscape  fhall  adorn, 
And  add  new  glories  to  the  riling  day. 

With  her  all  nature  mines  in  heighten'd  bloom  -, 
The  filver  ftreani  in  fvveeter  mufic  flows; 

Odours  more  rich  the  fanning  gales  perfume; 
And  deeper  tinctures  paint  the  fpreading  rof<r, 

With  her  the  fliades  of  night  their  horrors  Iofe4 
Its  deepeft  filencc  charms  if  fhe  be  by; 

Her  voice  the  mufic  of  the  dawn  renews, 
Its  lambent  radjaucc  fparkks  in  her  eyu, 

' 


THE  WORKS 

Howfweet  with  her,  in  wifdom's  calm  rccefs, 
To  brighten  foft  defire  with  wit  refin'd ; 

Kind  nature's  laws  with  facred  Afhley  trace, 
And  view  the  faireft  features  of  the  mind  ! 

Or  borne  on  Milton's  flight,  as  Heav'n  fublime, 
View  its  full  blaze  in  open  profpecl  glow  ; 

Elers  the  firft  pair  in  Eden's  happy  clime, 
Or  drop  the  human  tear  for  endlefs  woe. 

And  when  in  virtue  and  in  peace  grown  old, 
No  arcs  the  languid  lamp  of  life  reftore; 

Her  let  me  grafp  with  hands  convuls'd  and  cold, 
Till  ev'ry  nerve  relax'd  can  hold  no  more  : 

Long,  long  on  her  my  dying  eyes  fufpend, 
Till  the  laft  beam  mail  vibrate  on  my  fight; 

Then  foar  where  only  greater  joys  attend, 
And  bear  her  image  to  eternal  light. 

Fond  man,  ah!  whither  would  thy  fancy  rove? 

'Tis  thine  to  languifh  in  unpkied  fmart ; 
'Tis  thine,  alas!  eternal  fcorn  to  prove, 

Nor  feel  one  gleam  of  comfort  warm  thy  heart. 

But  if  my  fair  this  cruel  law  impofe, 

Pleas' d,  to  her  will  I  all  my  foul  refign  ; 

To  walk  beneath  the  burden  of  my  woes,         , 
Or  fink  in  death,  nor  at  my  fate  repine. 

Yet  when,  with  woes  unmingled  and  fincere, 
To  earth's  cold  womb  in  filence  I  defcend ; 

Let  her,  to  grace  my  obfequies,  appear, 

And  with  the  weeping  throng  her  forrows  blend. 

Ah!  no;  be  all  her  hours  with  pleafure  crown'd, 
And  all  her  foul  from  ev'ry  anguifh  free  : 

Should  my  fad  fate  that  gentle  bofom  wound, 
The  joys  of  Heav'n  would  be  no  joys  to  me. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  POPE. 

AN    ELEGY. 

"  Poets  themfclves  muft  fall,  like  thofe  they  fung ; 
"  Deaf  the  prais'd  ear,andmute  thetunefultongue  ; 
"  Ev'n  he,  whofe  foul  now  melts  in  mournful  lays, 
"  Shall  fhortly  want  the  gen'rous  tear  he  pays." 

's  UNFORTUNATE   LADY. 


WHILE  yet  I  fcarce  awake  from  dumb  furprife, 

And  tepid  {creams  profufely  bathe  my  eyes ; 

While  foul-diffolvingfighs  my  bofom  ftrain, 

And  all  my  being  finks  opprefs'd  with  pain  ; 

Deign  you  whofe  fouls,  like  mine,  are  forai'd  to 
know 

The  nice  poetic  fcnfe  ofblifsand  woe; 

To  thefe  fad  accents  deign  a  pitying  ear ; 

Strong  be  ourforrow,  as  the  caufe  fevere. 

O  Pope,  what  tears  thy  obfequies  attend  ! 
Britain  a  bard  deplores,  mankind  a  friend  : 
For  thee,  their  darling,  weep  th'  Aonian  choir, 
Mute  the  foft  voice,  unftrung  the  tuneful  lyre: 
For  thee  the  virtuous  and  the  fage  fhall  mourn, 
And  virgin  forrows  bathe  thy  facred  urn : 
One  veil  of  grief  o'er  Heav'n  and  earth  be  thrown, 
And  vice  and  envy  flaunt  in  fniiles  alone. 
Erewhile  deprefs'd  in  abjeft  duft  they  lay, 
Nor  with  their  hideous  forms  affronted  day ; 
While  thy  great  genius,  in  their  tortur'd  fight, 
Plac'd  truth  and  virtue  cloth'dwilhheav'nly  light: 


OF    BLACKLOCK. 

I  Now  pleas'd,  to  open  funfhine  they  return, 
And  o'er  the  fate  exult  which  others  mourn. 

Ah  me  !  fur  other  thoughts  my  foul  inlpire; 
Far  other  accents  breathes  the  plaintive  lyre : 
Thee,  though  the  mufes  blefs'd  with  all  their  art, 
And  pour'd  their  facred  raptures  on  thy  heart ; 
Though  thy  lov'd  virtue,  with  a  mother's  pain, 
Deplores  thy  fate,  alas!  deplores  in  vain  ? 
Silent  and  pale  thy  tuneful  frame  remains ; 
Death  feals  thy  fight,  and  freezes  in  thy  veins  : 
"  Cold  is  that  breafk,  which  warm'd   the  world 

"  before, 
"  And  that  Heav'n-prompted  tongue  fhall  charm  • 

"  no  more."  fchoofe; 

Whom  next  fhall  Heav'n  to  fhare  thy  honours 
Whom  confecrate  to  virtue  and  the  mufe  ? 
The  mufe,  by  fate's  eternal  plan  defign'd 
To  light  exalt  and  humanize  the  mind; 
To  bid  kind  pity  melt,  juft  anger  glow ; 
To  kindle  joy,  or  prompt  the  fighs  of  woe  ; 
To  fhake  with  horror,  rack  with  tender  fmart, 
And  touch  the  fineft  fprings  that  move  the  heart. 

*  Curfl  he  '.  who,  without  ecftafy  fincere, 
The  poet's  foul  effus'd  in  fong  can  hear : 
His  aid  in  vain  fhall  indigence  require  ; 
Unmov'd  he  views  his  dearefl  friends  expire : 
Nature  and  nature's  God  that  wretch  deteft  ; 
Unfought  his  friendfhip,  and  his  days  unbleft : 
Hell's  mazy  frauds  deep  in  his  bofom  roll, 
And  all  her  gloom  hangs  heavy  on  his  foul. 
As  when  the  fun  begins  his  eaftern  way, 
To  blefs  the  nations  with  returning  day, 
Crown'd  •with  unfading  fplendour,  on  he  flies; 
Reveals  the  world,  and  kindle*  all  the  fkies : 
The  proftrate  eaft  the  radiant  god  adore  ; 
So,  Pope,  we  view'd  thee,  but  muft  view  no  more. 
Thee  angels  late  beheld,  with  mute  furprife, 
Glow  with  their  themes,  and  to  their  accents  rife  ; 
They  view'd  with  wonder  thy  unbounded  aim, 
To  trace  the  mazes  of  th'  eternal  fcheme  : 
But  Heav'n  thofe  fcenes  to  human  view  denies, 
Thofe  fcenes  impervious  to  celeftial  eyes:' 
Whoe'er  attempts  the  path,  fhall  lofe  his  way, 
And,  wrapt  in  night,  through  endlefs  error  ftray. 

In  thee  what  talent  fhall  we  mofl  admire ; 
The  critic's  judgment,  or  the  poet's  fire? 
Alike  in  both  to  glory  is  thy  claim; 
Thine  Ariftotle's  tafte,  and  Homer's  flame. 

Arm'd  with  impartial  fatire,  when  thy  mufe 
Triumphant  vice  with  all  her  rage  purfues ; 
To  hell's  dread  gloom  the  monfher  fcours  away, 
Far  from  the  haunts  of  men,  and  fcenes  of  day  : 
There,  curft  and  curfing,  rack'd  with  raging  woe, 
Shakes  with  inceffant  howls  the  realms  below. 
Butfoon,  too  foon,  the  fiend  to  light  fhall  rife; 
Her  fleps  the  earth  fcarce  bound,her  head  the  ikies; 
Till  his  red  terrors  Jove  again  difplay, 
Afiert  his  laws,  and  vindicate  his  fvvay. 


*  What  -we  call  poetical  genius ,  depends  entirely  ox 
the  quicknefs  of  moral  feeling  :  He  therefore  tvbo  can 
not  fell  poetry,  mitjl  either  have  his  affefiions  and  inter 
nal  fenfes  depraved  by  vice,  or  be  naturally  infenftble  of 
tfjt  pleafures  refulting  from  tie  exercift  of  them*  But 
this  natural  infenjibility  is  alir.ojl  never  fo  great  in  any 
heart, .  as  entirely  to  hinder  the  imprfffion  of •well-fainted 
pajjiont  er  natural  images  connected  -with  it. 


POEMS. 


1187 


\Vhen  Ovid's  fong  bewails  the  Lefbian  fair, 
Her  flighted  palDon,  and  intenfe  defpair  ; 
By  thee  improv'd,  in  each  Ibul-moving  line, 
Not  Ovid's  wit,  but  Sappho's  forrows  fliine. 
"When  Kloifa  mourns  her  haplcfs  fate, 
"What  heart  can  ceafe  with  all  her  pangs  to  beat  ! 

While  pointed  wit,  with  flowing  numbers  grac'd, 
Excites  the  laugh,  ev'n  in  the  guilty  breall ; 
The  gaudy  coxcomb,  and  the  fickle  fair, 
fchall  dread  the  fatire  of  thy  ravifh'd  hair. 

Not  the  *  .Sicilian  broath'd  a  fweeter  fong, 
While  Arethufa,  charm'd  and  lifl'ning,  hung; 
For  whom  each  mufe,  from  her  dear  leat  retir'd, 
His  flocks  protected,  and  himfelf  infpir'd: 
Nor  he  f  who  four,  while  fonow  fill'd  the  plain, 
How  Cytherea  mourn'd  Adonis  flain; 
Nor  f  Tiryrus,  who,  in  immortal  lays, 

:  nia's  echoes  Galatea's  praife. 
No  more  let  Mantua  boafl  unnvaU'd  fame  ; 
Thy  Windfor  now  fliali  equal  honours  claim: 
Eternal  fragrance  fliall  each  breeze  perfume, 
And  in  each  grove  eternal  verdure  bloom. 

Ye  tuneful  fhepherds,  and  ye  beauteous  maids, 
From  fair  Ladona's  banks,  and  Windfor's  (hades, 
Whofe  fouls  in  tranfport  melted  at  his  fong, 
Soft  as  your  iighs,  and  as  your  wifhes  ftrong ; 
O  come !  your  copious  annual  tributes  bring, 
The  full  luxuriance  of  the  rifled  fpring; 
Strip  various  nature  of  each  faireft  flow'r, 
And  on  his  tomb  the  gay  profufion  fhow'r. 
Let  long-liv'd  panfies  here  their  fcents  beflow, 
The  violets  ianguiih,  and  the  rofes  glow  ; 
In  yellow  glory  let  the  crocus  (bine, 
NarcifTus  here  his  love-fick  head  recline  ; 
Here  hyacinths  in  purple  fwectnefs  rife, 
And  tulips  ting'd  with  beauty's  faireft  dyes. 

Who  fliall  fucceed  thy  worth,  O  darling  fwain ! 
Attempt  thy  reeds,  or  emulate  thy  ftrain? 
Each  pamted  warbler  of  the  vocal  grove 
Laments  thy  fate,  unmindful  of  his  love : 
Thee,  thee  the  breezes,  thee  the  fountains  mourn, 
And  folemn  moans  refponfive  rocks  return; 
Shepherds  and  flocks  protract  the  doleful  found, 
And  nought  is  heard  but  mingled  plaints  around. 

When  firft  Calliope  thy  fall  furvey'd, 
Immortal  tears  her  eyes  profufely  fhed; 
Her  pow'rlefs  hand  the  tuneful  harp  refign'd ; 
The  confcious  harp  her  griefs,   low-murm'ring, 

join'd  ; . 

Her  voice  in  trembling  cadence  died  away, 
And,  loft  in  anguifh.  all  the  goddefs  lay. 
tSuchpangsfhe  felt,  when,  from  the  realms  of  light, 
The  fates,  in  Homer,  ravifh'd  her  delight : 
To  thee  her  facred  hand  confign'd  his  lyre, 
And  in  thy  bofom  kindled  all  his  fire : 
Hence,  in  our  tongue,  his  glorious  labours  dreft, 
Breathe  all  the  god  'that  warm'd  their  author's 
breaft. 

When  horrid  war  informs  the  facred  page, 
And  men  and  gods  with  mutual  wrath  engage, 
The  clafh  of  arms,  the  tiumpet's  awful  found, 
And  groans  and  clamours  make  the  mountains 

round; 

The  nations  rock,  earth's  folid  bafes  groan, 
And  quake  heav'n's  arches  to  th'  eternal  throne. 


Tlitocntut, 


f  S.'an. 


Virgil. 


When  Eolus  dilates  the  lawlefs  wind, 
O'er  nature's  face  to  revel  unconfin'd, 
Bend  Heav'n's  blue  concave,  fweep  the  fruitful 

plain, 

Tear  up  the  foreft,  and  enrage  the  main  ; 
In  horrid  native  pomp  the  tempefts  fhine, 
Ferment  and  roar,  and  aeftuate  in  each  line. 

When  Sifyphus,  with  many  a  weary  groan, 
Rolls  up  the  hill  the  ftill  revolving  ftone  ; 
The  loaded  line,  like  it,  feems  to  recoil,        [toil : 
Strains  his  bent  nerves,  and  heaves  with  his  full 
But,  when  refulting  rapid  from  its  height, 
Precipitate  the  numbers  emulate  the  flight. 

As  when  creative  energy,  employ'd, 
With  various  beings  fill'd  the  boundlefs  void ; 
With  deep  furve)  th'  omnifrient  Parent  view'd 
The  mighty  fabric,  and  confefs'd  it  good  ; 
He  view'd,  exulting  with  immenfe  delight, 
The  lovely  tranfcript,  as  th'  idea,  bright : 
So  fwe'.l'd  the  *  bard  with  ecftafy  divine, 
When  full  and  finifh'd  rofe  his  bright  defign  ; 
So,  from  the  Elyfian  bow'rs,  he  joy'd  to  fee 
All  his  immortal  felf  reviv'd  in  thee. 
While  fame  enjoys  thy  confecrated  fane, 
Firft  of  th'  infpir'd,  with  him  for  ever  reign  ; 
W  ith  his  each  diftant  age  ihall  rank  thy  name, 
And  ev'n  reluctant  envy  hifs  acclaim. 

But  ah  !  blind  fate  will  no  diftinction  know; 
Swift  down  the  torrent  all  alike  muft  flow : 
Wit,  virtue,  learning,  are  alike  it*  prey; 
All,  all  muft  tread  th'  irremeable  way. 

No  more  fond  wifhes  in  my  breaft  Ihall  roll, 
Diftend  my  heart,  and  kindle  all  my  foul, 
To  breathe  my  honeft  raptures  in  thy  ear, 
And  feel  tby  kindncfs  in  returns  fincere; 
Thy  art,  1  hop'd,  fhould  teach  the  mufe  to  fing, 
Direct  her  flight,  and  prune  her  infant  wing  ; 
Now  mufe  be  dumb ;  or  let  thy  fong  deplore 
Thy  pleafures  blafted,  and  thy  hopes  no  more. 

Tremendous  pow'rs  !  who  rule  th'  eternal  ftate, 
Whofe  voice  is  thunder,  and  whofe  nod  is  fate  ; 
Did  I  for  empire,  fecond  to  your  own, 
Cling  round  the  fhrine,  and  importune  the  throne? 
Pray'd  I,  that  fame  fhould  bear  my  name  on  high  , 
Through  nation'd  earth,  ,or  all-involving  fky  I 
Woo'd  I  for  me  the  fun  to  toil  and  fhine, 
The  gem  to  brighten,  or  mature  the  mine  ? 
Though  deep  involv'd  in  adamantine  night, 
Aik'd  t  again  to  view  hcav'n's  cheerful  light? 
Pope's  love  I  fought ;  that  only  boon  deny'd,    ^ 
O  life  !  what  pleafure  canft  thou  boaft  be  fide,   > 
Worth  my  regard,  or  equal  to  my  pride  ?          j 

Thus  mourns  a  tim'rous  mufe,  unknewn   to 

fame, 

Thus  fheds  her  fweercft  incenfe  on  thy  name  ; 
Whilft  on  her  lips  imperfect  accents  die, 
Tear  following  tear,  and  figh  lucceeding  figh: 
She  mourns,  nor  {he  alone,  with  fond  regret, 
A  world,  a  feeling  world,  muft  weep  thy  fate. 

Where  polifh'd  arts  and  facred  fcience  reign, 
Where'er  the  Nine  their  tuneful  prefence  deign; 
There  fliall  thy  glory,  with  unclouded  blaze, 
Conunand  immortal  monuments  of  praife: 
From  clime  to  clinic  the  circling  fun  ihall  view. 
Its  rival  fplendour  ftill  his  own  purfue. 

*  Hamcr. 


THE   WORKS   6F   BLA.CKLOCK. 


While  the  fwift  torrent  from  its  fource  defcends; 
While  round  this  globe  Heav'n's  ample  concave 

bends ; 

Whilft  all  its  living  lamps  their  courfe  maintain, 
And  lead  the  beauteous  year's  revolving  train ; 
So  long  fhall  men  thy  heav'nly  fong  admire, 
And  nature's  charms  and  thine  ac  once  expire. 

ELEGY. 

TO  THE  MEMOfcY  OF  CONSTANTIA*« 

"  His  faltem  accumulem  donis,  et  fungar  inani 
"  Munere." 

VIRGIL. 

BY  the  pale  glimmer  of  the  confciousmoon, 
When  flumber,  on  the  humid  eyes  of  woe, 
Sheds  its  kind  lenitive ;  "what  mournful  voice 
So  fadly  fweet,  on  my  attentive  ear,    . 
Its  moving  plaint  effufes :  like  the  fong 
Of  Philomel,  when  through  the  vocal  air, 
Impell'd  by  deep  inconfolable  grief, 
*'•    She  breathes  her  loft,  her  melancholy  ftrain  ; 
And  nature  with  religious  filence  hears  ? 
*Tis  flie ;  my  wand'ring  fenfes  recognize 
The  -well-known  charm,  and  all  my  lift'ning  foul 
Is  expectation.    Oh!  'tis  that  dear  voice, 
Whofe  gentle  accents  charm'd  my  happier  days  ; 
Ere  Iharp  affliction's  iron  hand  had  preft 
Her  vernal  youth,  and  funk  her  with  the  blow. 

Tell  me,  thou  heav'nly  excellence  !   whole  form 
Still  rifes  to  my  view,  whofe  melting  feng 
For  ever  echoes  on  my  trembling  ear, 
Delightful  ev'n  in  mifery ;  O  fay ! 
What  bright  diftinguifh'd  manfion  in  the  flcy 
Receives  thy  fuff'ring  virtue  from  the  ftorm, 
That  on  thy  tender  bloffom  pour'd  its  rage  ? 
Early,  alas !  too  early  didil  thou  feel 
Itsmoft  tempeftuous  fury.     From  the  calm, 
The  foft  fcrenity  of  life,  how  led 
An  unfufpecting  victim  !  Ev'ry  blaft 
Pierc'd  to  thy  inmoft  foul,  amid  the  wafle 
Of  cruel  fortune  left  to  feek  thy  way 
Unfhelter'd  and  alone ;  while  to  thy  groans 
No  gen'rous  ear  reclin'd,  no  friendly  roof, 
With  hofpitable  umbrage,  entertain'd 
Thy  drooping  fweetnefs,  uninur'd  to  pain. 
That  lib'ral  hand,  which,  to  the  tortur'd  fenfe 
Of  anguifh,  comfort's  healing  balm  apply'd, 
To  Heav'n  and  earth  extended,  vainly  now 
Implores  the  confolation  ence  it  gave, 
Nor  fuppliant  meets  redrefs.     That  eye  benign, 
The  feat  of  mercy,  which  to  each  diftrefs, 
Ev'n  by  thy  foe  fuftain'd,  the  gentle  tear 
A  willing  tribute  paid,  now  fruitlefs  weeps, 
Nor  gains  that  pity  it  fo  oft  beftow'd. 

Thou  lovelieft  facrifice  that  ever  fell 
To  perfidy  and  unrelenting  hate !  ' 
How,  in  the  hour  of  confidence  and  hope, 
When  love  and  expe'ctation  to  thy  heart 
Spoke  peace,  and  plac'd  felicity  in  view ; 
How  fled  the  bright  illufion,  and  at  once 

*  dn  ace  amplified,  but  unfortunate  yvunglddy,  eftie 
tity  of  Edinburgh,  having,  -without  the  confent  of  her 
father,  married  a  gentleman,  iub»  tarried  bet  to  the 
Wejl  Indies,  Jhe  -was  there  truet/yforfalen  i>y  liim%  and 
Iff:  ber  lift  by  a  tnt^aken 


Forfook  thee  plung'd  in  exquifite  dcfpair  ! 

Thy  friends;  the  infects  of  a  fummer-gale 

That  fjiort  and  flutter  in  the  mid-day  beam 

Of  gay  profperity,  or  from  the  flow'rs, 

That  in  her  funfliine  bloom,  with  ardour  fuck 

Sweernefs  unearn'd;  thy  temporary  friends, 

Or  blind  with  headlong  fury,  or  abus'd 

By  ev'ry  grofs  impoflure,  or  fupine, 

JLull'd  by  the  fongs  of  eafe  and  pleafure,  faw 

Thy  bitter  deftiny  with  cool  regard. 

Thy  wrongs  ev'n  nature's  voice  proclaim'd  in  vain  j 

Deaf  to  her  tender  importuning  call, 

And  all  the  father  in  his  foul  extinct, 

Thy  parent  fat ;  while  on  thy  guiltlefs  head 

Each  various  torment,  that  embitters  life, 

Exhaufted  all  their  force :  and,  to  enfure 

Their  execrable  conqueft,  black  and  fell, 

Ev'n  as  her  native  region,  flander  join'd ; 

And  o'er  thy  virtue,  fpotlefs  as  the  wifh 

Of  infant  fouls,  inexorable  breath'd 

Her  pgftilential  vapour.     Hence  fair  truth, 

Perfuafive  as  the  tongue  of  feraphs,  urg'd 

Unheard  the  caufe  of  innocence  ;  the  blufli 

Of  fickle  friendship  hence  forgot  to  glow. 

Meanwhile   from  thel'e  retreats  with  haplefi 

fpecd, 

By  ev'ry  hope  and  ev'ry  wifh  impell'd, 
1'hy  fleps  explor'd  protection.  Whence  explor'd  ? 
Ah  me  !  from  whom,  and  to  what  curfed  arms 
Wert  thou  betray'd :  unfeeling  as  the  rock 
Which  fplits  the  veffel;   while  its  helplefs  crew, 
With  fhrieks  ef  horror,  deprecate  their  fate  ? 
O  earth  !  O  righteous  Heaven!  could'ft  thou  ba- 

hold; 

While  yet  thy  patient  hand  the  thunder  grafp'd, 
Nor  hurl'd  the  flaming  vengeance ;  could'ft  thoa 

fee 

The  violated  vow,  the  marriage  rite 
Profan'd,  and  all  the  facred  ties,  which  bind 
Or  God  or  man,  abandon'd  to  the  fcorn 
Of  vice  by  long  impunity  confinn'd  ? 

But  thou,  perfidious!  tremble. If  on  high 

The  hand  of  juflice  with  impartial  fcale 
Each  word,  each  action  poifcs,  and  exacts 
Severe  atonement  from  th'  offending  heart ; 
Oh !    what  haft  thou   to  dread  ?    what   endlefc 

pangs, 

What  deep  damnation  muft  thy  foul  endure  ? 
On  earth  'twas  thine  to  perpetrate  a  crime, 
From  whofe  grim  vifagc  guilt  of  fhamelefs  brow, 
Ev'n  in  its  wild  career,  might  fhrink  appall'd  : 
'Tis  thine  to  fear  hereafter,  if  not  feel, 
Plagues  that  in  hell  no  precedent  can  boafh 
Ev'n  in  the  filcnt,  fafe  domeflic  hour, 
Ev'n  in  the  fcene  of  tendernefs  and  peace, 
Remorfe,  more  fierce  than  all  the  fiends  below, 
In  fancy's  ears,  (hall,  with  a  thoufand  tongues, 
Thunder  defpair  and  ruin  :  all  her  fnakes 
Shall  rear  their  fpeckled  crefts  aloft  in  air, 
With  ceafelefs  horrid  hifs ;  fhall  brandifh  quick 
Their  forky  tongues,  or  roll  their  kindling  eyes 
With  fanguine,  fiery  glare.    Ev'n  while  each  fenfc 
Glows  with  the  rapture  of  tumultuous  joy, 
The  tears  of  injur'd  beauty,  the  complaints 
Of  truth  immaculate,  by  thee  expos'd 
To  wrongs  unnumber'd,  fhall  difturb  thy  blifs ; 
Shall  freeze  thy  blood  with  fear,  and  to  thy  fight 
Anticipate  th'  impending  wrath  of  hwv'n. 


POEMS. 


tn  fleep,  kind  paufe  of  being  !  when  the  nerve 
Of  toil  unbjnds,  when,  from  the  heart  of  care, 
Retires  the  fated  vulture,  when  difeafe 
And  difappointment  quaff  Lethean  draughts 
Of  fwc'et  oblivion  ;  from  his  charge  unbieft, 
Shall  1'peed  thy  better  angel :   to  thy  dreams 
Th'  internal  gulf  fhall  open,  and  diiclole 
Its  latent  horrors.     O'er  the  burning  lake 
Of  blue  fulphureous  gleam,  the  piercing  Ihriek, 
The  fcourge  incefTant,  and  the  clanking  chain, 
Shall  icare  thee  ev'n  to  frenzy.     On  thy  mind 
Its  fierceft  flames  fhall  prey;  while  from  its  depth 
Some  gnafhing  fury  beckons  thy  approach, 
And,  thirfty  of  perdition,  waits  to  plunge 
Thy  naked  foul,  ten  thoufand  fathom  down, 
Amidft  the  boiling  furges.     Such  their  fate, 
\Vhofe  hearts,  indocile,  to  the  facred  lore 
"  Of  wifdom,  truth,  and  virtue,  banifh  far 
The  cry  of  foft  companion ;  nor  can  tailc 
Beatitude  fupreme  in  giving  joy  !  I 

Thy  race,  the  product  of  a  lawlefs  flame, 
F-v'n  while  thy  fond  imagination  plans 
Their  future  grandeur,  in  thy  mock'd  embrace 
Shall  prematurely  perifti ;  or  furvive 
To  feel  their  father's  infamy,  and  curfe 
The  tainted  origin  from  which  they  fprung1. 
For,  Oh  !  thy  foul  no  foft  compunction  knew, 
When  that  fair  form,  where  all  the  graces  hVd, 
Perfection's  brighteft  triumph,  from  tfcy  breaft, 
The  fport  of  milder  winds  and  feas  was  thrown, 
To  glow  or  fliiver  in  the  keen  extremes 
Of  ev'ry  various  climate  :  when  that  cheek, 
Ting'd  with  the  blufli  of  heav'n's  unfading  rofe, 
Grew  pale  with  pining  anguifh  ;  when  that  voice, 
By  angels  tun'd  to  harmony  and  love, 
Trembled  with  agony  ;  and,  in  thine  ear, 
Utter'd  the  laft  extremity  of  woe. 

From  foreign  bounty  fhe  obtain'd  that  aid 
Which  friendfhip,  love,  humanity,  at  home 
Deny'd  her  Malted  worth.     From  foreign  hands 
Her  glowing  lips  rcceiv'd  the  cooling  draught, 
To  footh  the  fever's  rage.     From  foreign  eyes 
The  tear,  by  nature,  love  and  friendfhip  due, 
Flow'd  copious  o'er  the  wreck,  whofe  charms,  in 

death 

Still  blooming,  at  the  hand  of  ruin  fmil'd. 
Deftin'd,  alas!  in  foreign  climes  to  leave 
Her  pale  remains  unhonour'd  ;  while  the  herfe 
Of  wealthy  guilt  embiazon'd  boafts  the  pride 
Of  painted  heraldry,  and  fculptur'd  Hone 
Protects  or  flatters  its  detefted  fame. 
Vain  trappings  of  mortality  !   When  thefe 
Shall  crumble,  like  the  worthlefs  duft  they  hide ; 
Then  thou,  dear  fpirit !  in  immortal  joy, 
Crown'd  with  intrinfic  honours,  fhalt  appear; 
And  God  himfelf,  to  lift'ning  worlds,  proclaim 
Thy  injurM  tendernefs,  thy  faith  unftain'd, 
Thy  mildnefs  long  infulted,  and  thy  worth 
Severely  try'd,  and  found  at  laft  fmcere. 

But  where,  Oh !  where  fhall  art  or  nature  find, 
For  fmarting  forrow's  ever  recent  wound, 
Some  blefl  reftorative  ;  whofe  powerful  charm 
May  footh  thy  friend's  regret,  within  his  breaft 
Sufpend  the  figh  fpontaneous,  bid  the  tear, 
By  fad  reflection  prompted,  ceafe  to  fall! 
Thefe,  ftill  as  moments,  days  and  years  revolve, 
A  confecrated  off 'ring,  fhall  attend 
Thy  dear  idea  uneffac'd  by  time : 


1189 


Till  the  pale  night  of  deftiny  obfcure 
Life's  wafting  taper  ;  till  each  torpid  fenfe 
Feel  death's  chili   hand,  and  grief  complain   no 
more. 

A  SOLILOQUY: 

Occafianed  by  the  Author's  efiafe  from  falling  into  a 
d-efi  ii'ill,  'tvbfre  be  mujl  baiic  keen  irrecoverably  lojiy 
if  a  favourite  lap-dog  bad  not,  by  the  found  of  its  feet 
upon  the  board  -with  tvbfb  the  -well  viat  («vcreJt 
ivarned  him  of  bit  danger* 

"  Quid  quifque  viret,  nunquam  homini  fatis 
"  Cautum  cu  in  horas.'' 


WHERE  am  I ! — O  Eternal  Pow'r  of  heav'n ! 
Relieve  me  ;  or,  amid  the  filent  gloom, 
Can  danger's  cry  approach  no  gen'rous  ear, 
Prompt  to  redrefs  th   unhappy  ?  O  my  heart ! 
What  fhall  I  do,  or  whither  fhall  I  turn  ? 
Will  no  kind  hand,  benevolent  as  Heav'n, 
Save  me  involv'd  in  peril  and  in  night ! 

Erect  with  horror  flands  my  briftling  hair; 
My  tongue  forgets  its  motion  ;  ftrcngth  forfakes 
My  trembling  limbs;  my  voice,  impell'd  in  vain, 
No  paffage  finds  ;  cold,  cold  as  death;  my  blood, 
Keen  as  the  breath  of  winter,  chills  each  vein. 
For  on  the  verge,  the  awful  verge  of  fate 
Scarce  fix'd  I  ftand ;  and  one  progreffive  ftep 
Had  plung'd  me  down,  unfathomably  deep, 
To  gulfs  impervious  to  the  cheerful  fun 
And  fragrant  breeze ;  to  that  abhorr'd  abode, 
Where  filence  and  oblivion,  fifters  drear  ! 
With  cruel  death  confed'rate  empire  hold, 
In  defolatoin  and  primxval  gloom.  [horror, 

Ha  !  what  unmans  me  thus  ?  what,  more  than 
Relaxes  ev'ry  nerve,  untunes  my  frame, 
And  chills  my  inmoft  foul  ? — Be  ftill,  my  heart ! 
Nor  flutt'ring  thus,  in  vain  attempt  to  burft 
The  barrier  tirm,  by  which  thou  art  confin'd. 
Refume  your  functions,  limbs  !  reftrain  thofe  knees 
From  fmiting  thus  each  other.     Roufe,  my  foul  1 
Afiert  thy  native  dignity,  and  dare 
I'o  brave  this  king  of  terrors  ;  to  confront 
His  cloudy  brow,  and  unrelenting  frown, 
With  ileady  fcorn,  in  confcious  triumph  bold. 
Reafon,  that  beam  of  uncreated  day, 
That  ray  of  Deity,  by  God's  own  breath 
Infus'd  and  kindled,  reafon  Will  difpel 
Thofe  fancy'd  terrors :  reafon  will  inftrufl  thee, 
That  death  is  heav'n's  kind  interpofing  hand, 
J'o  fnatch  thee  timely  from  impending  woe  ; 
From  aggregated  mifery,  whofe  pangs 
Can  find  no  other  period  but  the  grave. 

For  Oh ! — while  others  gaze  on  nature's  face, 
The  verdant   vale,   the  mountains,  woods,  and 

ftreams ; 

Or,  with  delight  ineffable,  furvey 
The  fun,  bright  image  of  his  parent  God ; 
The  feafons,  in  majeftic  order,  round 
This  vary'd  globe  revolving  ;  young-cy'd  fpring, 
Profufe  of  life  and  joy  ;  fummer,  adorn'd 
With  keen  effulgence,  bright'ning   heav'n  and 

earth ; 

Autumn,  replete  with  nature's  various  boon, 
To  blels  the  toiling  hind  ;  and  winter,  grand 
With  rapid  ftorais,  convulfuig  nature's  iVamc ; 


1190 


THE   WORKS   OF   BLACKLOCK. 


Whilft  others  view  heavVs  all-involving  arch, 

Bright  with  unnumber'd  worlds;  and  loft  in  joy, 

Fair  order  and  utility  behold ; 

Or,  unfatigu'd,  th'  amazing  chain  purfue, 

"Which,  in  one  vaft  all-comprehending  whole, 

Unites  th'  immenfe  flupenduous  works  of  God, 

Conjoining  part  with  pai  S,anJ,  through  the  frame, 

Diffufing  facred  harmony  and  joy : 

To  me  thofe  fair  vicifiitudes  are  loft, 

And  grace  and  beauty  blotted  from  my  view. 

The    verdant    vale,    the    mountains,  woods,  and 

ftreams, 

One  horrid  blank  appear;  the  young-cy'd  fpriiig, 
Effulgent  fummer,  autumn  dcck'd  in  wealth 
To  blefs  the  toiling  hind,  and  winter  grand 
With  rapid  ftorms,  revolve  in  vain  for  me  : 
Nor, the  bright  fun,  nor  all-embracing  arch 
Of  heav'n,  fliali  e'er  thefe  wretched  orbs  behold. 

O  beauty,  harmony !  ye  filler  train 
Of  graces ;  you,  who,  in  th'  admiring  eye 
Of  God  your  charms  difplay'd,  ere  yet,  tranfcrib'd 
On  nature's  form,  your  heav'nly  features  fhone : 
Why  are  you  fnatch'd  for  ever  from  my  fight, 
Whilft,  in  your  ftead,  a  boundlefs,  wafte  expanfe 
Of  undiflinguifh'd  horror  covets  all  ? 
Wide  o'er  my  profpect  rueful  darknefs  breathes 
Her  inaufpicious  vapour  ;  in  whofe  (hade, 
Fear,  grief,  and  anguifh,  natives  of  her  reign, 
In  focial  fadnefs,  gloomy  vigils  keep : 
With  them  I  walk,  with  them  ftill  doom'd  to  fhare 
Eternal  blacknefs,  without  hopes  of  dawn. 

Hence  oft  the  hand  of  ignorance  and  fcorn, 
To  barb'rous  mirth  abandon'd,  points  me  out 
With  idiot  grin  :  the  fupercilious  eye 
Oft,  from  the  noife  and  glare  of  profp'rous  life, 
On  my  obfcurity  diverts  its  gaze, 
Exulting  ;  and,  with  wanton  pride  elate, 
Felicitates  its  own  fuperior  lot : 
Inhuman  triumph  !  hence  the  piercing  taunt 
Of  titled  infolence  inflicted  deep. 
Hence  the  warm  b).ufh  that  paints  ingenious  fhame. 
By  confcious  want  infpir'd;  th'  unpitied  pang 
Of  love  and  friendlhip  flighted.     Hence  the  tear 
-Of  impotent  compaffion,  when  the  voice 
Of  pain,  by  others  felt,  quick  fmites  my  heart, 
And  roufes  all  its  tcndernefs  in  vain. 
All  thefe,  and  more,  on  this  devoted  head, 
Have  with  collected  bitternefs  been  pour'd. 

Nor  epd  my  forrows  here.     The  facred  fane 
Of  knowledge,  fcarce  acceflible  to  me, 
With  hcart-confuming  anguifh  1  behold ; 
Knowledge,  for  which  my  foul  infatiate  burns 
With  ardent  thirft.     Nor  can  thefe  ufelefs  hands, 
Untutor'd  in  each  life-fuftaining  art, 
Neurifh  this  wretched  being,  and  fupply 
Frail  nature's  wants,  that  fhort  celTation  know. 
Where  *  now,  ah !   where  is  that  fupporting 

arm 

Which  to. my  weak,  unequal  infant  fteps 
Its  kind  afiiftance  lent  ?  Ah  !  where  that  love, 
That  flrong  afliduous  tendernefs,  which  watch  d 
My  wifhes  yet  fcarce  form'd;  and,  to  my  view, 
Unimportun'd,  like  all-indulging  Heav'n, 
Their  objects  brought?  Ah!  where  that  gentle 


*   'The  character  here  drawn  is  that  eftbe  author  s 
father,  whift  urfar'ej ten  fate  badjujl  btfore  bappmed. 


Which,  with  inftruction,  foft  as  fummer  dew» 
Or  fleecy  fnows,  descending  on  my  foul, 
Diftinguifh'd  ev'ry  hour  with  new  delight  ? 
Ah  !  where  that  virtue,  which,  amid  the  floims, 
The  mingled  horrors  of  tumultuous  life, 
Untainted,  unfubdu'd,  the  fhock  fuftaiu'd  ? 
So  firm  the  oak  which,  in  eternal  night, 
As  deep  its  root  extends,  as  high  to  heav'n 
Its  top  majeftic  rifl-s :  fiich  the  fmile 
Of  feme  benignant  angx-1,  from  the  throne 
Of  God  difpatch'd,  anibaflador  of  peace  ; 
Who  on  his  look  impreil  his  mefiage  bears, 
And  pleas'd,  from  earth  avert?  impending  ill,' 
Alas  !  no  wife  thy  parting  kifTes  fliar'd  : 
From  thy  expiring  lips  no  child  recciv'd 
Thy  laft,  dear  bit  fling  and  thy  laft  advice. 
Friend,  father,  beneiadlor,  all  at  once, 
In  thee  forfookmc,  an  unguarded  prey 
For  ev'ry  florin,  whofe  lawlefs  fury  roars 
Beneath  the  azure  concave  of  the  Iky, 
To  tofs,  and  on  my  head  exhaufl  its  rage. 

Dejecting  profpect !  foon  the  haplefs  hour 
May  come  ;  perhaps  this  moment  it  impends, 
Which  drives  me  forth  to  penury  and  cold, 
Naked,  and  beat  by  all  the  ftorms  of  htav'n, 
Friendlefs  and  guidelefs  to  explore  my  way  ; 
Till  on  cold  earth  this  poor,  unfhelter'd  head 
Reclining,  vainly  from  the  ruthlefs  blaft 
Refpite  I  beg,  and  in  the  fhock  expire. 

Me  miferablc  !  wherefore,  O  my  foul ! 
Was,  on  fuch  hard  conditions,  life  defir'd  ? 
One  ftep,  one  friendly  ftep,  without  thy  guilt, 
Had  plac'd  me  fafe  in  thy  profound  recefs, 
Where,  undifturb'd,  eternal  quiet  reigns, 
And  fweet  forgetfulnefs  of  grief  and  care. 
Why,  then,  my  coward  foul !  didft  thou  recoil  ? 
Why  fhun  the  final  exit  of  thy  woe  ? 
Why  fhiver  at  approaching  diffolution  ? 
Say  why,  by  nature's  unrefifted  force, 
Is  ev'ry  being,  where  volition  reigns 
And  active  choice,  impell'd  to  fhun  their  fate, 
And  dread  deftruction  as  the  worft  of  ills ; 
Say,  why  they  {brink,  why  fly,  why  fight,  why 

rifk 

Precarious  life,  to  lengthen  out  its  date, 
Which,  lengthen'd,  is,  at  heft,  pr«tracted  pain? 
Say,  by  what  myftic  charms,  can  life  allure 
Unnumber'd  beings,  who,  beneath  me  far 
Plac'd  in  th'  extenfivc  fcale  of  nature,  want 
Thofe  bleflings  heav'n  accumulates  on  me  ? 
Bleffings  fuperior ;  though  the  blaze  of  day 
Pours  on  their  fight  its  foul-refrefhing  flredni, 
To  me  extinct  in  everlafting  fhades : 
Yet  heav'n-taught  mufic,  at  whofe  powerful  voice, 
Gorrofive  care  and  anguifh,  charm'd  to  peace, 
Forfake  the  heart,  and  yield  it  all  to  joy, 
Ne'er  fooths  their  pangs.     To  their  infenfatc  view 
Knowledge  in  vain  her  faireft  treafure  fpreads. 
To  them  the  nobleft  gift  of  bounteous  heav'n,    j 
Sweet  converfation,  whofe  enliv'ning  force 
Elates,  diftends,  and,  with  unfading  ftrength, 
Infpires  the  foul,  remains  for  ever  loft. 
The  facred  fympathy  of  focial  hearts: 
Benevolence,  fupreme  delight  of  heav'n ; 
Th'  extenfive  wifh,  which  in  one  wide  embrace, 
All  beings  circles,  when  the  fwelling  foul 
Partakes  the  joys   of   God;  ne'er  warms  theif 
breafts. 


P    O    E 

As  yet  my  foul  ne'er  felt  the  oppreflivc  weight 
Of  indigence  unaided  ;  fwift  redrefs, 
Beyond  the  daring  flight  of  hope,  approach'd, 
And  ev'ry  wifh  of  nature  amply  blell. 
Though,  o'er  the  future  ferics  of  my  fate, 
111  omens  feem  to  brood,  and  ftars  malign 
To  blend  their  baleful  fire  :  oft,  while  the  fun 
Darts   boundlefs    glory    through   th'   expaufe   of 

heav'n, 

A  gloom  of  congregated  vapours  rife, 
Than  night  more  dreadful  in  her  bhekeft  fhroud, 
And  o'er  the  face  of  things  incumbent  hang, 
Portending  tempeft  ;  till  the  fource  of  day 
Again  aflerts  the  empire  of  the  Iky, 
And,  o'er  the  blotted  fcene  of  nature,  throws 
A  keener  fplendouf.     So,  perhaps,  that  care, 
Through  all  creation  felt,  but  moft  by  man, 
"Which  hears  with  kind  regard  the  tender  figh 
Of  modeft  want,  may  diflipate  my  fears, 
And  bid  my  hours  a  happier  flight  affume. 
Perhaps,  enliv'ning  hope  !  perhaps  my  foul 
Way  drink  at  wifdom  s  fountain,  and  allay 
Her  unextinguifh'd  ardour  iu  the  ftream  : 
"Wifdom,  the  conftant  magnet,  where  each  wifh, 
Set  by  the  hand  of  nature,  ever  points, 
Reftlefs  and  faithful,  as  th'  attractive  force 
By  which  all  bodies  to  the  centre  tend. 

What  then  !  becaufe  th'  indulgent  fire  of  all 
Has,  in  the  plan  of  things,  prefciib'd  my  fphcre  ; 
Becaufe  confummate  Wifdom  thought  not  tit, 
In  affluence  and  pomp,  to  bid  me  fliine ; 
Shall  I  regret  my  deftiny,  and  curfe 
That  flate,  by  Heav'n's  paternal  care,  defign'd 
To  train  me  up  for  fcenes,  with  which  compar'd, 
Thefe  ages,  meafur'd  by  the  orbs  of  heav'n, 
In  blank  annihilation  fade  away  ? 
For  fcenes,  where,  finifh'd  by  the  almighty  art, 
Beauty  and  order  open  to  the  light 
In  vivid  glory  ;  where  the  faintei!  rays 
Out-flafh  the  fplendour  of  our  mid-day  fun  ? 
Say,  ihall  the  Source  of  all,  who  rirft  affign'd 
To  each  conflituent  of  this  wond'rous  frame 
Its  proper  powers,  its  place  and  action  due, 
With  due  degrees  of  weaknefs,  whence  refults 
Concord  ineffable  ;  fhall  he  reverie, 
Or  difconcert  the  univerfal  fcheme, 
The  gen'ral  good,  to  flatter  felfifn  pride 
And  blind  deiire  ? — Before  th'  Almighty  voice 
From  non-exiftencc  call'd  me  into  life, 
What  claim  had  I  to  being  ?  what  to  fliine 
In  this  high  rank  of  creatures,  form'd  to  climb 
The  fteep  afcent  of  virtue,  unrelax'd, 
Till  infinite  perfection  crown  their  toil? 
"Who,  conftious  of  their  origin  divine, 
Eternal  order,  beauty,  truth,  and  good, 
Perceive,  like  their  great  Parent,  and  admire. 

Hulh  !   then,  my  hi-ait,  with  pious  cures  fup- 

preli 

This  timid  pride  and  impotence  of  foul : 
Learn  now,  why  all  thole  multitudes  which  crowd 
This  fpacious  theatre,  and  gaze  on  heav'n, 
Invincibly  averfe  to  meet  their  fate, 
Avoid  each  danger;  know  this  lacred  truth  ; 
All  perfect  Wiidom,  on  each  living  foul, 
Engrav'd  this  mandate,  "  to  preferve  their  frame, 
And  hold  entire  the  gen'ral  orb  (if  being.'' 
Then,  v/ith  becoming  rev'rence  let  each  pow'r, 
ID  deep  attention,  hcur  the  voice  ol  Uod ; 


M    S.  1191 

That  awful  voice,  which,  fpeaking  to  the  foul, 
Commands  its  reiignation  to  his  law  ! 

For  this,  lias  heav'n  to  virtue's  glorious  ftage 
Call'd  me,  and  plac'd  the  garland  in  my  view, 
The  wreath  of  conqueft,  bafely  to  defert 
The  part  allign'd  me,  and  with  daftard  tear, 
From  prefent  pain,  the  cauf_e  of  future  biils, 
To  (brink  into  the  boibm  of  the  giave  ? 
How  then  is  gratitude's  vaft  debt  repaid  ? 
Where  all  the  tender  offices  of  love 
Due  to  fraternal  man,  in  which  the  heart 
Each  bleffing  it  communicates  enjoys? 
How  then  fhall  I  obey  the  firft  great  law 
Of  nature's  Legislator,  deep  impreft 
With  double  fandtion,  reftlefs  feaf  of  death, 
And  fondnefs  ftill  to  breathe  this  vital  air  ? 
Nor  is  th'  injunction  hard  ;  who  would  not  link 
A  while  in  tears  and  forrow,  then  emerge 
With  tenfold  luftre,  triumph  o'er  his  pain  ; 
And  with  unfading  glory  fhine  in  heav'n  ? 

Come  then,  my  little  guardian  genius !  cloth'd 
In  that  familiar  form,  my  Phjlax,  come  ! 
Let  me  card's  thee,  hug  thee  to  my  heart, 
Which  beats  with  joy  of  life  preferv'd  by  thee. 
Had  not  thy  interpofing  fondnefs  liaid 
My  blind  precipitation,  now,  ev'n  now, 
My  foul,  hy  nature's  fharpeft  pangs  expell'd, 
Had  left  this  frame ;    had   pafs'd  the  dreadful 

bound, 

Which  life  from  death  divides,  divides  this  fcene 
From  vaft  eternity,  whole  deep'ning  fliades. 
Impervious  to  the  lharpeft  mortal  light, 
Elude  our  kcencft  fearch. —  But  ftill  I  err. 
Howe'er  thy  grateful  undefigning  heart, 
In  ills  foreleen,  with  promptitude,  might  aid  ; 
Yet  this,  beyond  thy  utmoft  reach  of  thought, 
Not  ev'n  remotely  diftant  couldft  thou  view. 
Secure  thy.lteps  the  fragile  board  could  prefs, 
Nor  feel  the  leaft  alarm  where  I  had  funk  : 
Nor  Louldft  thou  judge  tue  awful  depth  below, 
Which,  from  its  wat'ry  bottom,  to  receive 
My  fall,  tremendous  yawn'd.     Thy  utmoft  (kill, 
Thy  deepeft  penetration  here  had  ftopt 
Short  of  its  aim  ;  and  in  the  ftrong  embrace 
Of  ruin  ftruggling,  left  me  to  expire. 
No — Heav'n's  high  Sov'reign,  provident  of  all, 
Thy  paflive  organs  moving,  taught  thee  firft 
To  check  my  heedlefs  courfe,  and  hence  I  live. 

Eternal  Providence  !  whofe  equal  fway 
Weigh*  each  event,  whofe  ever-wakeful  care, 
Connecting  high  with  low,  minute  with  great, 
Attunes  the  wond'rous  whole,  and  bids  each  part 
In  one  unbroken  harmony  contpire  : 
Hail !  facred  Source  of  happinefs  and  life  ! 
Subltantial  Good,  bright  intellectual  Sun  1 
To  whom  my  foul,  by  fyuipathy  innate, 
Unweary'd  tends;  and  finds  in  thee  alone, 
Security,  enjoyment,  and  repol'e. 
By  thee,  O  God !  by  thy  paternal  arm, 
Through  ev'ry  period  of  my  infant  ftate, 
Suftam'd  I  live  to  yield  theepraifes  due. 
O !  could  my  lays,  with  heav'nly  raptures  warm, 
High  as  thy  throne,  re-echo  to  the  fongs 
Of  angels ;  thence,  O  !  could  my  pray'r  obtain 
One  beam  of  infpiration,  to  inflame 
And  animate  my  numbers;  heav'n's  full  choir4 
In  loftier  ftrains,  th'  infpiring  God  might  Cog; 
4  V  i"j 


THE  WORKS   OF   BLACKLOCK. 


Yet  not  mere  ardent,  more  fincere  than  mine. 
But  though  my  voice,  beneath  the  feraph's  note, 
Muft  check  its  feeble  accents,  low  depreft 
By  dull  mortality  ;  to  thee  great  Soul 
Of  heav'n  and  earth  !  to  thee  ray  hallow-'d  ftrain 
Of  gratitude  and  praife  (hall  (till  afcend. 

MISS  *****,  TO  THE  AUTHOR. 

WHILE  friendfhip's  gentle  pow'rs  my  bofom  fire, 
Damon,  accept  the  lays  which  you  infpire  : 
My  long-neglecled  mufe  thy  worth  revives, 
And  gen'rous  ardour  from  thy  flame  receives, 
Domeltic  troubles  long  my  mind  opprefs'd, 
And  made  the  mufe  a  ftranger  to  my  breaft ; 
Not  friendfhip's  iofteft  charms  could   raife  my 

fong, 

Till  wak'd  to  life  by  thy  perfuafive  tongue. 
O  Damon,  could  I  boaft  thy  wond'rous  (kill, 
Were  but  my  genius  equal  to  my  will, 
Thy  praifes  I  unweary'd  would  proclaim  ; 
And  place  thee  with  the  brighteft  fons  of  fame. 
Sure.  Damon,  'tis  fome  god  thy  breaft  infpires, 
And  fills  thy  foul  with  thofe  celeftial  fires: 
Thy  thoughts  fo  juft,  fo  noble,  fo  refin'd, 
That  elegant,  that  virtuous  turn  of  mind, 
May  juftly  claim  the  praife  of  all  mankind. 

Why  am  I  call'd  to  leave  my  native  plains, 
To  range  on  barren  hills  with  ruftic  fwains? 
Far  from  my  fellow  nymphs,  a  fprightly  throng, 
And  far,  too  far  from  thy  harmonious  tongue  ! 
Yet  ftill  thy  praife  (hall  be  my  fav'rite  theme : 
Each  echo  (hall  refouni  with  Damon's  fame 
And  ev'ry  tree  mail  bear  his  much-lov'd  name 

O  could  I  bear  thee  to  Acafto's  feat, 
To  Phoebus  and  his  fons  a  known  retreat; 
Acafto,  whofe  great  mind  and  honeft  foul 
No  hopes  can  bias,  and  no  fears  controul. 
He  virtue's  patron  long  has  firmly  ftood, 
And,  in  a  vicious  age,  been  greatly  good. 
Oft  has  Acafto  in  fome  fragrant  bow'r 
Invok'd  Urania,  and  confefs'd  her  pow'r ; 
As  oft  the  tuneful  maid  has  own'd  his  lays, 
And  blefs'd  his  fong  with  well-deferved  praife. 
Were  Damon  there,  to  join  the  tuneful  choir, 
"With  all  the  beauties  of  his  verfe  and  lyre, 
His  wit  would  civilize  our  favage  plains, 
Polifli  our  country  nymphs  and  rural  fwains. 
But  though  hard  fate  deny  my  fond  requeft, 
It  cannot  tear  thy  mem'ry  from  my  breaft  ; 
No— while  life's  blood  runs  warm  in  ev'ry  vein, 
For  thee  a  lading  friendfhip  I'll  maintain; 
And  when  this  bufy  fcene  of  life  is  o'er, 
Nor  earth  retards  the  foul's  excurfions  more, 
f '"  joy  to  meet  thee  in  thofe  happier  fcenes, 
Where  unalla)  'd,  immortal  pleafure  reigns. 
There,  crown'd  with  youth  unfading,  let  us  ftray 
Through  the  bright  regions  of  eternal  day  ; 
There,  of  eflVntial  happinefs  fecur'd 
W.th  joy  we'll  tell  the  pains  we  once  endur'd. 

Some  now  '   ~ 


1C   . 

r-j 

me.  j 


And  lead  us  Cafe  to  that  divine  abode, 
Where  blifs  eternal  waits  the  virtuous  fouL 
And  joys  on  joys  in  cndlefs  cirles  roll 

Ctw. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  ANSWER. 

WHEN  Clio  feem'd  forgetful  of  my  pain, 
A  foft  impatience  throbb'd  in  ev'ry  vei^; 
Each  tedious  hour  Ithought  an  age  of  woe  ; 
So  few  their  pleafures,  and  their  pace  fo  flow  : 
But  when  your  moving  accents  reach'd  my  ear, 
Juft,  as  your  tafte,  and  as  your  heart,  fincere; 
My  foul  re-;  cho'.d,  while  the  melting  ftrain 
Beat  in  each  pulfe,  and  flow'd  in  ev'ry  vein. 

Ah  !  teach  my  verfe,  like  yours,  to  be  refin'd  ; 
Your  force  of  language,  and  your  ftrengthof  mind; 
Teach  me  that  winning,  foft,  perfuafive  art, 
Which  raviihes  the  foul,  and  charms  the  he^rt, 
Then  ev'ry  heighten'd  pow'r  I  will  employ 
To  paint  your  merit,  and  exprefs  my  joy. 
Lefs  foft  the  ftrains,  the  numbers  Jefs  refin'd, 
With  which  great  Orpheus  polilh'd  human  kind  ; 
Whofe  magic  force,  could  lawlefs  vice  reprove, 
And  teach  a  world  the  fweetsof  focial  love. 

When  great  *  Acafto's  virtues  grac'd  your  lays, 
My  foul  was  loft  in  the  effulgent  blaze  ; 
Whofe  love,  like  heav'n,  to  all  mankind  extends, 
Supplies  the  indigent,  the  weak  d.efends  ; 
Purfues  the  good  of  all  with  fteady  aim  ; 
One  bright,  unweary'd,  unextinguiQi'd  flame. 
Wrhat  transport  felt  my  foul,  what  keen  delight, 
When  its  full  blaze  of  glory  met  my  fight ! 
But  foon,  too  foon,  the  happy  gleam  was  o'er ; 
What  joy  can  reign  where  Clio  is  no  more  ? 

Ah !  haplefi  me  1  muft  yet  more  woes  infpire 
The  mournful  fong,  and  tune  the  tragic  lyre  ? 
The  laft  and  greateft  of  the  fable  train  ? 
Her  Clio's  abfence  muft  the  mufe  complain  * 
From  thefe  intrufive  thoughts  all  pleafure  flies, 
And  leaves  my  foul  benighted,  like  my  eyes. 

Yet,  while  abforb'd  in  thought  alone  I  ftray, 
On  ev'ry  fenfe  while  filent  fo/rows  prey, 
Or  from  fome  arbour,  confcious  of  my  pain, 
While  to  the  fighipg  breeze  I  figh  in  vain  : 
May  each  new  moment,  fraught  with  netv  delight, 
Crown  your  bright  day,  and  blefi  your  filent  night : 
May  heightning  raptures  ev'ry  fenfe  furprife, 
Mufic  your  ears,  gay  profpecls  charm  your  eyes; 
May  all  on  earth,  and  all  in  heav'n  conlpire 
To  make  your  pleafures  lading  and  entire. 
'Tis  thine  alone  can  footh  my  anxious  breaft 
Secure  of  blifs>  while  confcious  you  are  bleft. 

EPISTLE  I. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

From  Edinburgh. 

FROM  where  bleak  north  winds  chill  the  frozen 

(kies, 

And  lov'd  Edina's  lofty  turrets  rife, 
Sing  heav'nly  mufe'.   to  thy  lov'd  Clio  fing; 
Tune  thy  faint  voice,   and  ftretch  thy  drooping 

wing. 

Could  I,  like  Uriel,  on  fome  pointed  ray, 
To  your  fair  diflant  Eden  wing  my  way, 

*  d  gentleman  <who  tb en  refilled  hi  Galloway,  dif- 
tingur/Jjed  for  lofpitality,  for  bis  inruiclable  at 
tachment  to  the  intcrejli  of  his  country  ;  and,  in 
Jhort,  for  all  thofe  virtues  which  adorned  hii.  ait- 
and  dignify  human  nature. 


POEMS. 


Outftrip  the  moments,  fcorn  the  fwifteft  wind, 
And  leave  ev'n  wing'd  defire  to  lag  behind  ; 
So  ftrong,  fo  fwift,  I'd  fly  the  port  to  gain ; 
The  fpeed  of  angels  Ihould  purfue  in  vain. 

Ah  !  whither,  whither  would  my  fancy  ftray? 
Nor  hope  fuftains,  nor  reafon  leads  the  way  : 
No,  let  my  eyes  in  fcalding  forrows  flow, 
Vaft  as  my  lots,  and  endlefs  as  my  woe : 
Flow,  till  the  torrent  quench  this  vital  flame, 
And,  with  increafing  hours  increafe  the  ftream. 
Yet,  Clio,  bear,  in  pity  to  my  fmart, 
If  gentle  pity  e'er  could  touch  thy  heart : 
Let  but  one  line  fufpend  my  conftant  care, 
Too  faint  for  hope,  too  lively  for  defpair : 
Thee  let  me  ftill  with  wonted  rapture  find 
The  mufes  patronefs,  and  poet's  friend. 

EPISTLE  II. 

TO  DORINDA. 

With  Venice  Prefervd. 

IF  frierulfhip  gains  not  pardon  for  the  mufe, 
Immortal  Otway,  fure,  will  plead  excufe  : 
For  eyes  like  thine  he  wrote  his  moving  lays, 
Which  feel  the  poet,  and  which  weep  his  praifc. 
Whether  great  JafEer  tender  griefs  infpires, 
Struggling  with  cruel  fate,  and  high  defires; 
Or  Belvidera's  gentler  accents  flow, 
When  all  her  foul  (he  breathes  in  love  and  woe : 
Drawn  from  the  heart  the  various  paifions  fhine, 
And  wounded  nature  bleeds  in  ev'ry  line. 
As  when  tome  turtle  fpies  her  lovely  mate 
Pierc'd  by  the  ball,  orflutt'ring  in  the  net, 
Her  little  heart  juft  burfting  with  defpair, 
She  droops  her  wings,   and  breathes  her  foul  in 


EPISTLE  III. 

TO  MISS  ANNIE  RAE, 

With  the  Manual  of  £piffetus,  and  Tablature  o/ 
Cebes. 

Go,  happy  leaves  !  to  Anna's  view  difclofe 

What  folid  joy  from  real  virtue  flows ; 

When,  like  the  world,  felf-pois'd,  th'  exalted  foul, 

Unfliaken,  fcorns  the  tlorms  that  round  her  roll ; 

And,  in  herfe If  collected,  joys  to  find 

Th'  untainted  image  of  th'  Eternal  Mind. 

To  bid  mankind  their  end  fupreme  purfue, 
On  God  and  nature  fix  their  wand'ring  view ; 
To  teach  reluctant  paffion  to  obey, 
Check'd,  or  impell'd  by  reafon's  awful  fway  ; 
From  films  of  error  purge  the  mental  eye, 
Till  undiflembled  good  in  profpect  lie; 
The  foul  with  heav'n-born  virtue  to  inflame  : 
Such  was  the  Stoic's  and  Socratic's  aim. 

O  1  could  they  view  from  yon  immortal  fcene, 
Where  beauty,  truth  and  good,  unclouded,  reign, 
Fair   hands    like    thine   revolve    their   labour'd 

page, 

Imbibe  their  truth,  and  in  their  ta(k  engage ; 
With  rapture  would  they  hail  fo  fair  a  fight, 
And  feel  new  blifs  in  heav'n's  fupreme  delight. 


•  TO  MISS  D.  H. 


JM  ANSWER  TO  A  LETTER    SHE  WROTE  THE 
AUTHOR  FROM  DUMFRIES. 

MAY  Heaven's  bleft  bleflings  on  thy  head  defcend, 
Whofe  goodnei's  recollects  an  abfent  friend  ; 
Brighter  and  brighter  may  thy  moments  roll, 
Joy  warm  thy  heart,  and  virtue  tune  thy  foul ; 
With  length'ning  life  ftill  happier  be  thy  ftat«. 
As  by  thy  worth,  diftinguifli'd  by  thy  fate. 
Oh  !  if  my  ardent  vows  luccefsful  prove; 
If  merit  charms,  if  God  himfelf  be  love ; 
Of  all  the  lots  his  bounty  e'er  affign'd 
To  blefs  the  belt,  the  nobleft  of  mankind  ; 
For  none  fhall  happier  conftellations  thine, 
None  boaft  a  fphere  of  ampler  blifs  than  thine. 

Few  of  thy  fex,  alas  !  how  wond'rous  few, 
Beftow  thofe  kind  regards  to  virtue  due  : 
A  humble  name,  of  wealth  too  fm all  a  (hare, 
A  form  unfeemly,  or  a  ciownifh  air  ; 
Thefe  cafual  faults  the  fqueaoufli  fair  difguft, 
Who  to  be  thought  retin'd,  become  unjutt. 
Not  fuch  Dorinda's  more  inteafe  furvey, 
It  looks  for  charms  unconfcious  of  decay  ; 
Surface  and  form  pervades  with  pobler  tafie. 
And  views  God's  image  on  the  heart  impreft. 
O  may  I  ever  mare  thy  kind  efteem, 
In  fortune's  change,  and  life's  tumultuous  dream; 
If  future  hours  be  ting'd  with  colours  gay, 
There  let  thy  friendfhip  mix  its  heav'nly  ray; 
O'er  all  my  fate  if  adverfe  planets  reign, 

0  let  thy  gentle  pity  footh  my  pain  : 
With  this  one  precious  good  fecurely  bleft, 
Let  rhance  or  fortune  regulate  the  reft. 

Since  ftill  to  me  extend  thy  gen'rous  cares, 
My  ftudy,  health,  employment,  and  affairs; 
Thefe  ever  in  the  fame  dull  channel  flow, 
A  lazy  current,  uniformly  flow. 
Thus  ftill  from  hour  to  hour,  from  day  to  day, 
Life's  glimmering  taper  languifhes  away; 
A  doubtful  flame,  a  dim  portentous  light. 
That  waftes  and  fickens  into  endlefs  night. 

The  modes  of  drefs,  the  fophift's  keen  debate, 
The  various  politics  of  church  and  ftate, 
A  foul  like  thine  will  think  but  trivial  news, 
Beneath  the  care  of  friendfhip  and  the  mufe. 

In  vain  I  urge  dull  thought  from  line  to  line, 
Fancy  grows  reftive  to  the  fond  defign  : 
Here  let  the  mufe  her  weary  pinions  reft, 
Be  ever  kind,  and  oh  1  be  ever  bleft. 

TO  MISS  A.  H. 

ON  HER  MARRIAGE. 

1  HATE  the  ftiff  addrefs,  the  ftudied  phrafe 
Of  fcrrnai  compliment,  and  empty  praife, 
Where  fancy  labours  to  exprefs  the  heart. 
With  all  the  paint  and  impotence  of  art: 

But  when  with  merit  Inendfhip's  charms  confpire 
To  bid  my  hand  refume  the  votive  lyre, 
Once  more  my  veins  their  former  raptures  know, 
And  all  the  mufes  in  my  bofom  glow. 

*  The  yovnr  lady  to  whom  the  Monody  is  /#« 

fcril'<d.    ' 


THE    WORKS   OF    BLACKLOCK. 


O  thou,  whofe  foul  with  ev'ryfWeetnefscrown'd, 
Diffufes  light,  and  life,  and  pleafure  round  ; 
Whofe  heart,  with  eVry  tender  fenfe  endow'd, 
Glows,  like  creative  love,  ferenely  good ; 
Whole  ealy  manners  at  one  view  difplay 
Fancy's  quick  flalh,  and  reafon'sfteady  ray; 
While  each  internal  charm,  with  fweet  furprife, 
Beams  through  thy  form,  and  lights  thy  radiant 

eyes: 

Blefs'd  with  thofe  joys,  may  all  thy  moments  flow, 
Which  confcious  virtue  only  can  beftow  : 
That  loft  eternal  funftiine  of  the  mind, 
Sweet  as  thy  charms,  and  as  thy  foul  refin'd. 
May  Heav'n  protedl  thee  with  a  father's  care, 
And  make  thee  happy,  as  it  made  thee  fair. 
O  may  the  man  now  (acred  to  thy  choice, 
With  all  his  foal  the  real  bleffing  prize : 
One  common  end  o'er  all  your  views  prefide, 
One  wifh  impel  you,  and  one  purpofe  guide  ; 
Be  all  your  days  aufpicious,  calm,  and  bright, 
One  fcene  of  tender,  pure,  unmix'd  delight, 
Till  time  and  fate  exhauft  their  endlefs  (tore, 
And  heav'n  alone  can  make  your  pleafure  more. 

TO  THE  REV.  MR.  JAMESON. 

W«T  mourns  my  friend,  what  caufe  (hall  I  aflign? 
Why  fmarts  that  tender  honed  foul  qf  thine  ? 
What  ftar,  a  foe  to  all  that's  good  and  great, 
Dares,  with  malignant  influence,  dalh  thy  fate  ? 
Why  (hrinks  my  heart  with  fears  not  underftood  ? 
What  ftrange  portentous  fadnefs  chills  my  blood  ? 
O  '.  breathe  thy  latent  forrows  in  mine  ear, 
And  prompt  the  ftarting  fympathetic  tear. 
As  tender  mothers  with  alliduous  view, 
Their  infant  offspring's  wand'ring  fteps  purfue, 
As  wing'd  from  heav'n,  celeltial  guardians  wait, 
To  match  their  fav'rite  charge  from  inftant  fate  : 
Friendftrip  thy  clofe  attendant  (hall  remain, 
Prepar'd  to  foften,  or  partake  thy  pain  : 
Whether  thy  form,  to  pale  difeaie  a  prey, 
Beneath  its  preflure  pants  the  tedious  day  ; 
Or  if  fome  tender  grief  diflolves  thy  mind, 
Each  wiQi  extinguilh'd,  and  each  hope  refign'd : 
Yor  thee  my  fpirits  (hall  more  languid  flow ; 
lor  thee  the  flame  of  life  fufpend  its  glow  ; 
For  thee  this  heart,  with  forrows  new  lhall  groan, 
And  add  thy  part  of  anguifli  to  its  own. 
Whatever  fcenes  thy  uenfwe  walk  invite, 
Thither  thy  friend  (hall  bend  his  fpeedy  flight. 
Say,  fliall  our  Ibcial  tteps  together  llray 
Through  groves  that  glimmer  with  a  twilight  ray  ? 
Or  through  fome  boundlefs  folitary  plain, 
Where  melancholy  holds  her  penfive  reign  ? 
Say,  through  embow'ring  myrtles  (hall  we  rove 
Bedew'd  with  recent  tears  by  hopeleib  love  ? 
Or,  where  negledled  worth,  from  men  retir'd 
In  uncomplaining  agony  expir'd  ? 
There  in  the  filent  cyprefs  lhade  reclin'd, 
Let  each  in  each  a  laithful  fuff'rer  find- 
There  let  our  mingling  plaints  to  heav'n  afcend  • 
There  let  our  eyes  their  ceafelefs  currents  blend  • 
Our  mingling  plaints  lhall  ftop  the  paffinji  Eale 
And  each  enamour'd  echo  Cgh  the  tale 
For  whilft  I  fpeak,  ev'u  in  this  mortal  hour 
Fahaps  relectlcfs  death  exerts  his  pow'r, . 


Perhaps  the  (haft  already  wings  its  way, 
Too  furely  aim'd,  and  *  Barnet  falls  its  prey. 
Him,  nature,  with  no  common  care  delign'd, 
His  form  embellifh'd,  and  his  foul  refin'd; 
Oh  !  with  what  ardour  did  his  piercing  view, 
Through  ev'ry  maze  of  nature,  truth  purfue  '. 
Sacred  to  virtue,  and  the  mufe,  his  bread 
With  Heav'n's  own  lovelielt  image  was  impreft. 
Like  Heav'n's  eternal  goudnels,  uncontin'd 
His  foul,  with  one  fond  wilh,  embrac'd  mankind: 
Fdr  them  his  time,  his  cares  were  all  employ'd  ; 
Their  griefs  he  felt,  their  happinefs  enjoy'd  ; 
His  parents  now,  in  bitternefs  of  pain, 
Shall  aik  from  heav'n  and  earth  their  fon  in  vain: 
In  vain  his  friends  with  pious  gifts  (hall  tell 
How  giy  he  bloflbm'd,  and  how  early  fell. 
Through  all  his  frame  a  lever's  fury  reigns, 
Confumes  his  vitals,  and  inflames  his  veins, 
In  tears  the  falutary  arts  retreat, 
And  virtue  views  with  pangs  her  darling's  fate. 
Here  paufe,  my  friend,  and  with  due  candour 

own 

Affliction's  cup  not  mix'd  for  thee  alone  ; 
Others,  like  thee,  its  dire  contents  muft  drain, 
And  (hare  their  full  inheritance  of  pain. 
But,  O  !  may  brighter  hours  thy  life  attend  ; 
Such  as  from  heav'n  on  happy  love  defcend  ; 
Such  gleams,  as  (till  on  conlcious  virtue  mine, 
By  God  and  man  approv'd,  be  ever  thine. 
May  reafon,  arm'd  with  each  perfuafive  art, 
Infpire  thy  precept,  as  (he  guides  thy  hearts; 
Nor  let  thy  foul  the  fmallelt  portion  know 
Of  all  my  paft  diftrefs  or  prelent  woe. 


AN  EPITAPH  ON  HIS  FATHER. 

HERE  drop,  benevolence,  thy  facred  tear, 

A  friend  of  human  kind  repofes  here  ; 

A  man  content  himfelf  and  God  to  know ; 

A  heart,  with  every  virtue  form'd  to  glow  : 

Beneath  each  preflure  uniformly  great ; 

In  life  untainted,  unfurpris'd  by  fate : 

Such,  though  obfcur'd  by  various  ills  he  (hone  ; 

ConfoPd  his  neighbours  woes,  and  bore  his  own  : 

Heav'n  faw,  and  fnatch'd  from  fortune's  rage  its 

prey, 
To  (hare  the  triumphs  of  eternal  day. 

TO  MRS.  ANNE  BLACKLOCK, 

THE  AUTHOR'S   MOTHER. 

With  a  Copy  of  the  Scotch  Edition  of  his  Poems. 

O  THOU  !  who  gav'ft  me  firft  this  world  t'  explore, 
Whole  frame  for  me  a  mother's  anguifli  b'ore ; 

*  Mr,  Barnet,  an  Englijhman,  a  dear  and  in 
timate  friend  of  the  poet.  He  -was  a  Jtit dent  of 
phyjic  in  the  Univerfity  of  Edinburgh  ;  and  at  the 
time  theabove  ep.iftle  ivas  written,  lay  dangeroujly 
ill  of  a  fever,  of 'which  he  died  a  few  days  after, 
in  the  bloom  of  youth,  much  lamented  by  all  who 
knew  him,  but  particularly  by  Blacklock,  -who 
/farce  ever  mentions  his  name  'without  a  tear. 


POEMS. 


For  me,  whofe  heart  its  vital  current  drain'd, 
Whole  bolbm  nurs'd  me,  and  whole  arms  fuftain'd: 
What  though  thy  ion,  dependent,  weak,  and  blind, 
Deplore  his  willies  check'd,  his  hopes  confin'd  ? 
Though  want  impending  cloud  each  cheerletsday, 
And   death  with  lite  feem   ftruggling  for  their 

prey? 

Let  this  confole,  if  not  reward  thy  pain, 
Unhappy  he  may  live,  but  not  in  vain. 

PROLOGUE  TO  OTHELLO. 

SPOKEN  BY  MR.   LOVE, 

At  the  Opening  of  the  Playhoufe  in  Dumfries. 

YE  fouls  !  by  foft  humanity  infpir'd, 
For  gen'rous  hearts  and  manners  free  admir'd  ; 
Where  tafte  and  commerce  amicably  join'd, 
Embellifh  life,  and  cultivate  the  mind  : 
Without  a  blufh,  you  may  fupport  our  ftage  ; 
.     No  tainted  joys  (hall  here  your  view  engage. 
To  tickle  fools  with  prortituted  art, 
Debauch  the  fancy  and  corrupt  the  heart, 
Let  others  ftoop,  fuch  meannels  we  defpife, 
And  pleafe  with  virtuous  objects  virtuous  eyes. 

The  tender  foul  what  dire  convulfions  tear, 
When  whifp'ring  villains  gain  th'  incautious  ear  ; 
How  heav'nly  mild,  yet  howintenfely  bright, 
Fair  innocence,  though  clouded,  Itrikes  the  fight : 
What  endlefs  plagues  from  jealous  fondnefs  flow, 
This  night  our  faithful  fcenes  attempt  to  fhow : 
No  new-born  whim,  no  hafty  flafli  of  wit ; 
But  nature's  dictates,  by  great  Shakfpeare  writ. 

Immortal  bard  \  who  with  a  matter  hand, 
Could  aU  the  movements  of  the  foul  command  ; 
With  pity  footh,  with  terror  fliake  her  frame  ; 
In  love  diflblve  her,  or  to  rage  inflame. 

To  tafte  and  virtue,  heav'n-defcended  pair  ! 
While  pleas'd  we  thus  devote  our  art  and  care  ; 
To  crown  our  ardour,  let  your  fav'ring  fmile 
Reward  our  hopes,  and  animate  our  toil : 
So  may  your  eyes  no  weeping  moments  know, 
But  when  they  fliare  fome  Defdemona's  woe. 

PROLOGUE  TO  HAMLET. 

SPOKEN  BY  MR.  LOVE,    AT  DUMFRIES. 

IWSPIR'D  with  pleafinghope  to  entertain. 
Once  more  we  offer  Shakfpeare's  heav'nly  drain 
"While  hov'ring  round,  his  laurell'd  made  furveys 
What  eyes  fliall  pour  their  tribute  to  his  praife  ; 
What  hearts  with  tender  pity  fliall  regret 
The  bitter  grief  that  clouds  Ophelia's  fate. 

Once  fair  fhe  flourifli'd,  nature's  joy  and  pride 
But  droop'd  and  wither'd,  when  a  father  dy'd. 
Severe  extremes  of  tendernefs  and  woe, 
When  love  and  virtue  mourn-one  common  blow ; 
When  griefs  alternate  o'er  the  bofom  reign, 
And  ev'ry  fenfe,  and  ev'ry  thought  is  pain  ! 
Here  nature  triumph'd,  on  her  throne  fublime, 
And  mock'd  each  pigmy  mufe  of  later  time  ; 
Till  Shakfpeare   touch'd  the  foul  with  all  he 

fmart, 
And  ftamp'd  her  living  image  on  the  heart. 


From  his  inftructive  fong  we  deeply  feel, 
low  vainly  guilt  its  horrors  would  conceal, 
hough  night  and  filence  with  the  fraud  confpire, 
'o  bid  the  crime  from  human  fearch  retire  ; 
'hough  yet  the  traitor  feem  from  harm  fecure, 
nd  fate  a  while  fufpend  th'  avenging  hour; 
'hough  fortune  nurle  him  with  a  mother's  care, 
And  deck  her  pageant  in  a  fhort-liv'd  glare  : 
n  vain  he  ftruggles  to  difguife  his  fmart, 
A.  living  plague  corrodes  his  ulcer'd  heart ; 
While  ev'ry  form  of  ruin  meets  his  eye?, 
\r.d  heav'u's  vindictive  terrors  round  him  rife. 

Such  falutary  truths  their  light  diffufe, 
Where  honours  due  attend  the  tragic  mufe  ; 
Deep  by  her  facred  fignature  impreft, 
They  mingle  with  the  foul  and  warm  the  breaft. 
rlence  taught  of  old,  the  pious  and  the  fage, 
With  veneration  patronis'd  the  Itage. 

But,  foft !  methinks  you  cry  with  fome  furprife, 
'  How  long  intend  you  thus  to  moralife  ?** 
Our  prologue  deviates  from  eftablifh'd  rules, 
Nor  mocks  the  fair,  nor  calls  the  critics  fools, 
'Tis  true  ;  but  dully  fond  of  common  fenfe, 
We  ftill  think  fpleen  to  wit  has  no  pretence  ; 
Think  impudence  is  far  remote  from  fpirit, 
And  modefty,  though  awkward,  has  fome  merit- 


An  Epigram. 

DEAR  Fabius !  me  if  well  you  know. 
You  ne'er  will  take  me  for  your  foe  ; 
If  right  yourfelf  you  comprehend, 
You  ne'er  will  take  me  for  your  friend. 

ON  PUNCH. 

Cj 

AN  EPIGRAM. 

HENCE  I  reftlefscare  and  low  defign, 
Hence  1  foreign  compliments  and  wine  ; 
Let  gen'rous  Britons  brave  and  free, 
Still  boaft  their  punch  and  honefty. 
Life  is  a  bumper  fill'd  by  fate, 
And  we  the  guefts  who  fliare  the  treat ; 
Where  ftrong,  infipid,  fliarp,  and  fweet, 
Each  other  duly  temp'ring  meet. 
A  while  with  joy  the  fcene  is  crown'd  ; 
A  while  the  catch  and  toaft  go  round : 
And  when  the  full  caroufe  is  o'er, 
Death  puffs  the  lights  and  (huts  the  door. 
Say  then,  phyficians  of  each  kind, 
Who  cure  the  body  or  the  mind  ; 
What  harm  in  drinking  can  there  be, 
Since  punch  and  life  fo  well  agree  J 

ON  MARRIAGE. 

AN  EPIGRAM. 

YauNG  Celia,  now  a  blooming  bride, 
Sat  from  her  friends  apart  and  cry'd  ; 
Her  faithful  Chloe  view'd  her  care, 
And  thus  confol'd  the  weeping  fair : 


THE  WORKS   OF   BLACKLOCK. 


Good  heaven  !  in  tears !  for  fhame  !  look  gay  ; 
Nor  cloud  with  grief  your  nuptial  day. 
If  brides  in  tears  receive  their  fpoufes, 
What  muft  the  haplefs  wretch  who  lofes? 
BeCdes,  my  dear,  you  know  'tis  reafon, 
That  all  things  have  a  proper  feafon  ; 
Now  'tis  in  marriage  a  plain  cafe, 
That  crying  holds  the  fecond  place. 
let  vulgar  fouls  in  forrow  fink, 
Who  always  aft  and  never  think  ; 
But  to  reflecting  minds  like  you, 
Marriage  can  hire  have  nothing  new. 

ON  THE  SAME. 

AN  EPIGRAM. 

WHOEVER  feals  the  marriage  vow, 
Tis  well  agreed  make  one  of  two : 
But  who  can  tell,  fave  G~d  alone, 
What  numbers  may  make  two  of  one. 

EPITAPH 

ON  A  FAVOURITE  IAP-BOG. 

I  KEVEK  bark'd  when  out  of  feafon ; 
I  never  bit  without  a  reafon ; 
I  ne'er  infulted  weaker  brother  ; 
Nor  wrong'd  by  force  nor  fraud  another. 
Though  brutes  are  plac'd  a  rank  below, 
Happy  for  man  could  he  fay  fo  1 

THE  AUTHOR'S  PICTURE. 

WHILE  in  my  matchlefs  graces  wrapt  I  fland. 
And  touch  each  feature  with  a  trembling  hand  ; 
Deign  lovely  felf!  with  art  and  nature's  pride, 
To  mix  the  colours,  and  the  pencil  guide. 

Self  is  the  grand  purfuit  of  half  mankind  : 
How  vaft  a  crowd  by  felf,  like  me,  are  blind ! 
By  felf  the  fop  in  magic  colours  (hown, 
Though  fcorn'd  by  ev'ry  eye,  delights  his  own  : 
When  age  and  wrinkles  feize  the  conqu'ring  maid, 
Self,  not  Ae  glafs,  reflects  the  flatt'ring  (hade. 
Then,  wonder-working  felf!  begin  the  lay  ; 
Thy  charms  to  others  as  to  me  difplay. 

Straight  is  my  perfon,  but  of  little  fize ; 
Lean  are  my  cheeks,  and  hollow  are  my  eyes : 
My  youthful  down  is,  like  my  talents,  rare ; 
Politely  diftant  ftands  each  fingle  hair. 
My  voice  too  rough  to  charm  a  lady's  ear ; 
So  ftnooth  a  child  may  liften  without  fear ; 
Not  form'd  in  cadence  foft  and  warbling  lays, 
To  footh  the  fair  through  pleafure's  wanton  ways. 
Mj^form  fo  fine,  fo  regular,  fo  new, 
My  port  fo  manly  and  fo  frefh  my  hue ; 
Oft,  as  I  meet  the  crowd,  they  laughing  fay, 
"  See,  fee  Memento  Mori  crofs  the  way." 
The  ravifh'd  Proferpine  at  lad,  we  know, 
Grew  fondly  jealous  of  her  fable  beau ; 
But  thanks  to  nature  I  none  from  me  need  fly, 
Pne  heart  the  devil  could  wound— fo  cannot  I. 

Yet,  though  my  perfon  fearlefs  may  be  feen, 
There  is  fome  danger  in  my  graceful  mien : 
For,  as  fome  YefFel  tofs'd  by  wind  and  tide, 
Bounds  o'er  the  waves,  and  rocks  from  fide  to  fide ; 


In  juft  vibration  thus  I  always  move  : 

This  who  can  view  and  not  be  forc'd  to  love  ? 

Hail !  charming  felf!  by  whofe  propitious  aid 
My  form  in  all  its  glory  ftands  difplay'd  : 
Be  prefent  (till ;  with  infpiration  kind, 
Let  the  fame  faithful  colours  paint  the  mind. 

Like  all  mankind,  with  vanity  I'm  blefs'd, 
Confcious  of  wit  I  never  yet  pofiet's'd. 
To  ftrong  defires  my  heart  an  eafy  prey, 
Oft  feels  their  force,  but  never  owns  their  fway, 
This  hour,  perhaps,  as  death  I  hate  my  foe  ; 
The  next  I  wonder  why  I  fliould  do  fo. 
Though  poor,  the  rich  I  view  with  carelefs  eye ; 
Scorn  a  vain  oath,  and  hate  a  feriouslie. 
I  ne'er  forfatire  torture  common  ienfe  ; 
Nor  flmw  my  wit  at  God's  nor  man's  expence. 
Harmlefs  I  live,  unknowing  and  unknown  ; 
Wifli  well  to  all,  and  yet  do  good  to  none. 
Unmerited  contempt  I  hate  to  bear; 
Yet  on  my  faults,  like  others,  am  fevere. 
Difhoneft  Barnes  my  bofom  never  fire  ; 
The  bad  I  pity,  and  the  good  admire  : 
Fond  of  the  mufe,  to  her  devote  my  days, 
And  fcribble— not  for  pudding,  but  for  praife. 

Thefe  carelefs  lines  if  any  virgin  hears, 
Perhaps,  in  pity  to  my  joylefs  years, 
She  may  cenlent  a  gen'rou*  flame  to  own ; 
And  I  no  longer  Cgh  the  nights  alone. 
But,  (hould  the  fair,  affected,  vain,  or  nice, 
Scream  with  the  fears  infpir'd  by  frogs  or  mice  ; 
Cry,  "  fave  us,  heav'n  !  a  fpectre,  not  a  man  1" 
Her  hartfliorn  fnatch,  or  interpofe  her  fan  : 
If  I  my  tender  overture  repeat ; 
O  !  may  ray  vows  her  kind  reception  meet ! 
May  (lie  new  graces  on  my  form  beftow, 
And  with  tall  honours  dignify  my  brow  *  ! 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  LADIES. 

A    SATIR.Z. 

Infcrwed  to  Mifs — — 

"  Some  country  girl,  fcarce  to  a  curtfey  bred, 
"  Would  I  much  rather  than  Cornelia  wed." 

DRYDZN'S  JUVENAI. 

"  Credo  pudicitiam,  Saturno  rege,  moratam 
"  In  terris,  vifamque  diu." juv. 

"  In  Saturn's  reign,  at  nature's  early  birth, 
"  There  was  a  thing  call'd  Chaftity  on  earth." 

DRYBEN. 
PREFACE. 

WHETHER  the  author's  defigns  were  benevolent 
or  ill-natured,  in  the  writing  or  publication  of 
this  piece  to  the  world,  it  is  unnecefliiiy  for  him 

*  The  manner  in  ivhicb  ovr  author  las  condufi. 
td  this  piece  is  <very  remarkable.  None  but  one 
pcjfj/ed  of  BlacklocFs  happy  temper  of  mind, 
•would  have  beenfo  pleafant  at  bis  own  expence. 
Htnvetier,  left  the  ladies  of  future  ages  jbould, 
think  this  humorous  defcriftion  real,  it  may  not  be 
improper  to  tell  them,  that,  if  the  original  had 
been  in  the  bands  of  a  faithful  painter,  tkefiSnre 
would  by  no  means  have  ken  fa  ludicrous.  JK>  H. 


P    O    E 

•o  difcover ;  for  even  though  he  fhould,  with  all 
.maginable  candour,  exprefs  the  motives  which 
Influenced  him,  every  one  will  prel'ume  upon  the 
ame  right  of  judging  as  if  no  fuch  difcovery  had 
been  made.  Permit  him,  therefore,  only  t«  fay,  that 
this  fatire  is  neither  abfolutely  perlbnal,  nor  com- 
prehenfive  of  all.  To  attack  any  particular  cha 
racter,  is  no  lei's  detraction  in  verfe  than  in  prole  ; 
or  fuppofe  the  intention  more  good-natured,  it  is 
confining  thofe  moral  lefibns  to  'one,  which  may 
be  applicable  to  a  thoufand.  To  attack  any  lex 
or  fpecies  for  qualities  infeparable  from  it,  is  real 
ly  to  write  a  fatire  againft  nature.  So  that  the 
bufmefs  of  one  who  would  aflame  a  character  fo 
delicate  and  unwelcome,  is  neither  to  confine 
himfelf  to  individuals,  nor  attempt  to  include  the 
whole. 

The  author  thought  it  proper  to  convey  his 
fentiments  in  an  epiftolary  way,  that  the  eye 
might  ftill  be  directed  to  one  principal  figure. 
Such  characters  and  paflions  as  couid  not  thus 
properly  be  introduced,  are  brought  in  by  fre 
quent  digreflions,  with  as  much  eafe  as  poflible. 
For  this  I  need  only  inftance  the  characters  of 
Flavia  and  Timandra. 

The  moft  effectual  way  either  to  gain  or  pre- 
ferve  the  attention  of  readers  in  fatire,  is  by  a  de 
licate  and  well  preferved  irony.  This  the  author 
has  as  feldom  violated  as  the  fubjects  he  treated, 
and  his  own  warmth  of  temper  would  permit. 
And  thus,  under  pretence  of  advifing,  he  expofes 
to  his  pupil  moft  of  the  vices  and  foibles  of  the 
fex ;  firft,  in  their  earlicft  appearances  in  the 
world,  then  in  marriage,  as  miftrelTes  of  a  fami 
ly,  as  mothers,  and  the  different  rules  too  often 
obferved  in  drefs  abroad  and  at  home.  This  ac 
count  of  our  author's  plan  was  thought  requifite, 
left  the  reader,  when  glancing  over  the  poem, 
might  lofe  himfelf  in  it.  r  A.  G. 

O  THOU,  whom  ftill  in  vain  I  muft  adore, 
To  beauty  much  in  debt,  to  fortune  more  ; 
"With  wit  and  tafte  enough  thy  faults  to  hide, 
To  gild  thy  folly,  and  to  plume  thy  pride  ; 
Soon  mall  my  heart,  a  rebel  to  thy  chain, 
Aflert  its  freedom,  and  thy  pow'r  difdain. 
Yet  ere  kind  fate  my  liberty  reftore,  [more), 

(When  twice  five  hundred   pounds  can  charm  no 
For  thee  the  mufe  ftiall  tune  th'  inftructive  lay, 
And  through  the  maze  of  life  direct  thy  way  : 
The  mufe,  long  ftudy'd  in  her  fex's  art, 
The  head  designing,  and  corrupted  heart. 
For  thee  ihall  ting,  nor  thou  too  railily  blame 
The  lait  faint  ftruggles  of  a  dying  flame. 

The  maid  whom  nature  with  maternal  care 
Has'form'd  to  fcatter  ruin  ev'ry  where, 
When  firft  on  life  her  radiant  eyes  fhe  throws, 
Drefs,  flatt'ry,  pleafure,  billet-deaux,  and  beaux  ; 
Then,  confcious  of  her  weaknefs,  let  her  fly 
The  tender  lifp,  the  love  illumin'd  eye ; 
Let  her  alike  diftruft  her  ftrength  and  art,          ~) 
And  cautious  to fome  maiden  auntimpart  [heart.  > 
The  important   charge,    her  honour  and   herj 
But  foon  the  firft  emotions  of  defire 
Shall  with  fimplicity  and  truth  retire; 
The  confcious  tongue  infpir'd  by  diltant  views, 
Its  firft  alliance  with  the  j'oul  iliaii  lole ; 


M     S. 


119 


The  blood,  by  candour  taught  before  to  glow. 
From  other  motives  to  the  cheek  ftiall  (low  ; 
No  more  fliall  looks  her  fentiments  explain, 
But  ev'ry  flexile  feature  learn  to  feign. 
Then  let  her  iflue  forth  to  open  light, 
In  all  the  blaze  of  native  beauty  bright  ; 
Infatiate,  conqueft  let  her  ftill  purfue, 
Secure  from  harm,  and  deftin'4  to  undo. 
Yet  while  the  firft  of  public  toaftsflie  reigns, 
While  half  the  nation  ftruggles  in  her  chains, 
If  not  like  thee,  with  fortune's  bounty  bleft, 
Let  her  at  lait  refign  the  world  to  reft, 
Ere  time  his  empire  o'er  her  charms  aflume. 
And  tinge  with  fainter  hue  her  native  bloom. 
In  vernal  youth,  and  beauty's  gayeft  pride, 
The  charming  Flavia  thus  becomes  a  bride. 
For  what  blelVd  youth,  O  Mufe,  with  truth  de 
clare, 

Could  Fate  referve  the  conqueft  of  the  fair? 
To  what  refiftlefs  art,  what  charms  divine, 
What  foft  addrefs,  could  flie  her  heart  refign  ? 
Did  youth,  good-nature,  fenfe,  inflict  the  wound  ? 
"  No — peevifh  feventy  with  five  thoufand  pound.1' 
Hail  holy  ties  !  by  wond'rous  charms  endear'd. 
The  paralytic  nerve,  and  hoary  beard. 
What  mighty  joys  muft  blefs  fuch  equal  love, 
When  hand  in  hand  gay  Spring  and  Winter  move? 
Beneath  the  fpecious  femblance  of  a  wife 
She  flaunts  a  licens'd  proftitute  for  life. 
Why  all  this  hurry  ?  Flavia  was  afraid 
Her  fame  fhould  wither,  or  her  beauty  fade. 

Favour'd  of  Heav'n,  far  happier  liars  are  thine; 
Long  as  thy  wifn  fliall  thy  meridian  fliine, 
In  youth  or  age  ftill  certain  to  command, 
And  fee  thy  bloom  coeval  with  thy  land. 

There  is  a  time  to  all  the  fex  well  known, 
When  'tis  a  wretched  thing  to  be  alone ; 
When  pregnant  Night  with  ghofts  and  fpectres 

teems, 

And  fportive  fairies  prompt  tumultuous  dreams ; 
Then,  though  no  lower  wifh  thy  breaft  inflame, 
Though  fpotlefs  be  thy  fancy  as  thy  name, 
In  folitary  fears  no  longer  pine, 
Bui  to  protecting  man  thy  charms  refign. 

And   now,  before    the  raptuv'd  fvvain  fhould 

cloy 

With  known  embraces,  and  repeated  joy ; 
Now  is  the  time  thy  wit,  thy  pow'rs  to  ftrain, 
And  teaze  him  ftill  fome  fav'rite  boon  t  gain. 
Now  with  eternal  tempeft  ftun  his  ears, 
Now  vary  all  the  fcenc  with  fits  and  tears  ; 
Now  (pleas'd  to  view  vicilfi tudes  of  pain, 
To  view  thy  tyranny  new  force  obtain) 
To  all  his  tender  arts  and  foft  purfuit 
Still  be  thy  tongue  inexorably  mute. 

Nor  yet  thy  plagues  to  one  alone  confine, 
Portending  public  ruin  comets  fliine  ; 
Angle  for  hearts,  and  when  you  catch  the  prey, 
Long  on  the  line  your  foolifli  captive  play. 

But  fhould  thy  fond,  officious  fool  be  near. 
With  jealous  looks,  and  with  attentive  ear  ; 
Should  he  on  ev'ry  private  hour  intrude, 
And  watch  thofe  pleafures  he  was  meant  to  fhroud; 
With  all  thy  fkill  his  jealous  rage  ferment, 
The  look  inviting,  and  the  foft  complaint  j 
With  equal  favour  ev'ry  lover  blefs, 
The  gentle  whifper,  and  the  fond  carefs; 


THE   WOR.R.S   OF   BLACK.LOCK. 


Till  the  weak  dupe,  in  every  tender  fenfe, 
Feels,  more  than  hell,  the  torture  of  fufpenfe. 
Then  if  he  dares  to  murmur  at  his  fate, 
Tell  him  with  fmiles,  repentance  is  too  late. 
But  if,  with  haughty  tone,  and  lordly  pride, 
He  dictates  ferious  rules  thy  life  to  guide  ; 
With  weeping  eyes,  and  melting  founds,  regret 
The  deftin'd  forrows  which  on  woman  wait ; 
To  tyrant  man  fubjecled  during  life, 
A  wretched  daughter,  and  more  wretched  wife ; 
Alike  unblefs'd,  whate'er  her  form  infpire, 
licentious  ridicule,  or  low  defire ; 
She  pines 'away  a  life  to  blifs  unknown  ; 
A  flare  to  ev'ry  humour  but  her  own  ; 
While  with  defpotic  nod,  and  watchful  gaze, 
Her  jealous  mafter  all  her  fteps  furveys  : 
With  ftrick  referve  each  lover  if  flie  treat, 
Then  all  her  portion  is  contempt  or  hate  ; 
But  if  more  free  (he  fpend  the  cheerful  day 
Among  the  witty,  innocent,  and  gay, 
Fr»m  all  her  hopes  domeftic  pleafure  flies, 
Sufpicion  breathes,  and  lo  !  her  honour  dies. 
Such  cruel  ftars  on  woman  (till  attend, 
And  couldft  thou  hope  their  fury  to  fufpend  ? 
Perhaps  fome  lover  may  the  foul  inflame, 
For  nature  in  each  bofom  is  the  fame  ; 
Then,  but  by  flow  degrees,  his  fate  decide, 
And  gratify  at  once  thy  love  and  pride. 
For  love  and  pride,  beneath  each  dark  difguife, 
Heave  in  your  bread,  and  fparkle  in  your  eyes: 
Howe'er  your  fex  in  chaftity  pretend 
To  hate  the  lover,  but  admire  the  friend, 
Defires  more  warm  their  natal  throne  maintain, 
Platonic  paflions  only  reach  the  brain. 

Though  in  the  cloifter's  fecret  cell  immur'd 
By  bolts,  by  ev'ry  name  in  heav'n  fecur'd ; 
Though  in  the  clofe  feraglio's  walls  confin'd  ; 
IVn  there  your  fancy  riots  on  mankind  : 
Your  perfohs  may  be  fix'd,  your  forms  reclufr, 
While  minds  are  faithlefs,  and  while  thoughts  are 

loofe. 
Should  Love  at  laft  (whom  has  not  Love  fub- 

du'd  ?) 

Full  on  thy  fenfe  fome  killing  form  obtrude  ; 
O!  then  beware,  nor  with  a  lavifh  hand 
Too  promptly  offer,  ere  thy  fwain  demand. 
Our  mothers,  great  in  virtues  as  in  crimes, 
Difdain'd  the  venal  fpirit  of  our  times : 
Vice,  oft  repell'd,  their  ftubborn  hearts  eflay'd  ; 
But  if  at  laft  their  yielding  foul  flie  fway'd, 
Nor  hopes,  nor  fears,  nor  iut'reft  could  reftrain, 
Heav'n  charm'd,  hell  threaten'd,  av'rice  brib'd  in 

vain. 

Fools  they,  and  folly's  common  lot  they  fhar'd, 
Inftinct  their  guide,  and  pleafure  their  reward : 
Their  wifer  race  purfue  a  happier  fcheme, 
Pleafure  their  inftrument,  and  wealth  their  aim ; 
Nor  maid,  nor  wife,  unbrib'd  her  heart  beftows, 
Each  dart  is  tipp'd  with  gold  which  Cupid  throws. 
Thus  fhould  the  dice  invite  thy  vent'rous  hand, 
Or  debts  of  honour  frelh  fupplies  demand ; 
Should  china,  monkeys,  gems  thy  heart  engage, 
The  gilded  coach,  or  liv'ry'd  equipage  ; 
Half  meet;  half  flmn  his  wifh;  nor  free,  nor 

nice ; 
Delay  the  pleafure,  to  enhance  the  price. 


While  night  o'er  heav'n  and  earth  extends  her 

fhade, 

And  darker  female  cunning  lends  its  aid, 
Then,  but  with  art,  thy  fchemes  of  pleafure  lay, 
Left  Argus  with  his  hundred  eyes  furvey  : 
For  gales  officious  ev'ry  whifper  bear, 
Each  room  has  echoes,  and  each  wall  an  ear. 
Yet  Jealoufy,  oft  fann'd  with  opiate  airs, 
Her  charge  abandons,  and  forgets  her  cares  ; 
While  Love  awake  exerts  his  happy  pow'r, 
And  conl'ecrates  to  joy  the  fated  hour. 

That  well-concerted  plans  command  fuccefs, 
Learn  from  Timandra's  fortune,  and  confefs. 
The  clock  ftriK.es  ten,  in  vain  Timandra  mourns, 
Supper  is  ferv'd,  no  hufband  yet  returns. 
Not  yet  returned  !  Good  heav'n  avert  my  fear  ; 
What  unforefeen  mifchance  detains  my  dear  ? 
Perhaps  in  fome  dark  alley,  by  furprife. 
Beneath  a  villain's  arm  he  murder'd  lies; 
Or  by  fome  apoplectic  fit  depreft, 
Perhaps,  alas !  he  feeks  eternal  reft, 
Whilft  I  an  early  widow  mourn  in  vain  : 
Hade  !  fly,  ye  flaves,  reftore  my  lord  again  ! 
She  fpoke,  me  fhriek'd  aloud,  flie  rung  the  bell, 
Then  fenfelefs,  lifelefs,  on  the  couch  flie  fell. 
Say,  Mufe  ;  for  Heav'n  hides  nothing  from  iky 

Nor  hell's  deep  track;  fay,  what  could  then  enfue  ? 

Lorenzo,  touch'd  with  fympathy  divine. 
Heard  the  thrill  found,  and  recognis'd  the  fign ; 
He  came,  he  fpoke,  and  if  report  fay  true, 
Her  life  rekindled,  and  her  fears  withdrew. 
The  lover  vanifh'd,  and  the  tumult  paft, 
The  unfufpecting  hufband  came  at  laft  ; 
The  fpoufe  with  equal  joy  his  tranfports  crown'd, 
Nor  on  her  lips  were  Caflio's  *  kifles  found. 

Let  Scandal  next  no  flight  attention  fliare, 
Scandal,  the  fav'rite  fcience  of  the  fair, 
O'er  which  her  fancy  broods  the  fummer-day, 
And  fcheming  waftes  the  midnight-taper's  ray  ; 
The  laugh  fignificant,  the  biting  jeft, 
The  whifper  loud,  the  fentence  half  fuppreft, 
The  feeming  pity  fb.r  another's  fame, 
To  praife  with  coldnefs,  or  with  caution  blame  ; 
Still  (hall  thy  malice  by  thofe  arts  fucceed, 
And  ev'ry  hour  a  reputation  bleed. 
Thus  (hall  thy  words,  thy  looks,  thy  filence  wound, 
And  plagues  be  wafted  in  each  whifper  round. 
Nor  on  thefe  topics  long  let  fancy  dwell  ; 
In  one  unite  the  pedant  and  the  belle  : 
With  learned  jargon,  ever  mifapply'd, 
Harangue,  illuftrate,  criticife,  decide. 
For  in  our  days,  to  gain  a  fage's  name, 
We  need  not  plod  for  fenfe,  but  banifh  fhame : 
'Tis  this  which  opens  every  fair-one's  eyes, 
Religion,  fenfe,  and  reafon  to  defpife  ; 
'Tis  thus  their  thoughts  affected  freedom  boafly 
And  laugh  at  God,  yet  tremble  at  a  ghoft. 
Truth  is  the  object  of  each  common  view, 
The  gazing  crowd  her  naked  beauties  woo  ; 
The  fair  fuch  manners  fcorn,  but,  brave  and  free. 
Are  damn'd  for  facred  fingularity. 

Thee  with  a  mother's  name  fhould  fartune  grace, 
And  propagate  thy  vices  in  thy  race, 

*  See  Othello 


POEMS. 


Let  whim»  not  rcafon,  all  t'iy  conduct  guide, 
And  not  the  parent,  but  the  rod  prefide  : 
In  all  thy  fteps  each  wide  extreme  unite, 
Capricious  tendernefs,  or  groumilefs  fpite. 
Hence  future  ages  fhall  with  triumph  fee 
Bridewell  and  Tyburn  both  enrich'd  by  thee. 
To  this  our  lives  their  haplefs  tenor  owe,      [flow. 
Ting'd  with  the  poifon'd  fource  from  whence  they 
Ah  :  me,  had  gracious  Heav'n  alone  confign'd 
A  prey  to  burning  wrath  your  worthlefs  kind  ; 
Or  had  the  firft  fair  fhe,  to  hell  ally'd, 
Creation's  fole  reproach,  curs'd  Htav'n  and  dy'd  ; 
Nor  introduc'd  in  nature's  faultlef1-  trame 
The  wretched  heritage  of  guilt  and  fliame, 
Such  the  maternal  pledges  you  beftow, 
Expreffive  earnefts  of  eternal  woe. 

Still  as  a  conftant  curfe  regard  thy  home, 
Thy  pleafure's  penance,  and  thy  beauty's  tomb  ; 
Now  mad  with  rage,  now  languifhing  with  fpleen, 
There  ftill  in  wretched  difhabile  be  feen  : 
Long  let  thy  .nail  its  polifh'd  jet  extend,      / 
Around  thy  neck  the  greafy  locks  defcend  ; 
And  round  thee,  mingling  in  one  fpicy  gale, 
Kitchen  and  nurs'ry  all  their  fweets  exhale. 

But  if  in  more  extenfive  fpheres  you  move, 
With  all  the  glare  of  drels  your  form  improve  ; 
To  aid  its  pomp  let  either  India  join, 
Nor  once  reflecl:  at  whofe  expence  you  fhine; 
New  airs,  new  fafhions,  new  complexions  try, 
While  paint  and  affectation  can  fupply, 
For  Heav'n  and  Nature,  uniform,  and  old, 
One  fettled  courfe  in  each  production  hold  ; 
But  belles,  by  native  genius  taught  to  pleafe, 
Correct:  their  Maker's  want  of  tafte  with  eafe. 
But  why  this  hafty  rage,  this  ludden  fright? 
I  meant  to  counfel,  and  yuu  fay  I  bite. 
Ah  !  no  ;  Heav'n  knows  'twas  far  from  my  intent ; 
The  world's  too  much  a  finner  to  repent : 
By  its  example  taught,  I  change  my  view. 
And  fwear  the  fair  are  right  whatever  they  do. 

HORACE,  ODE  XIII.  BOOK  I. 

IMITATES. 

"  Cum  tu  Lydia,  Telephi,"  &c. 

WHEN  Caelia  dwells  on  Damon's  name, 
Inl'atiate  of  the  pleafing  theme, 
Or  in  detail  admires  his  charms, 
His  rofy  neck,  and  waxen  arms ; 
O  !  then,  with  fury  fcarce  fuppreft, 
My  big  heart  labours  in  my  oreaft  ; 
From  thought  to  thought  acrofs  my  foul 
Inceffant  tides  of  pafTion  roll ; 
My  blood  alternate  chills  and  glows,  • 
My  wav'ring  colour  comes  and  goes  ; 
While  down  my  cheek  the  filent  tear 
Too  plainly  bids  my  grief  appear  ; 
Too  plainly  fnows  the  latent  flame 
Whole  flow  confumption  melts  my  frame. 

I  burn,  when  confcious  pf  his  fway, 
The  youth  elated  I  furvey, 
Prefume,  with  infote^ce  of  air 
To  frown,  or  didlate  to  my  fair ; 
Or  in  the  madnefs  of  delight, 
When  to  thy  arms  he  wings  his  flight, 
And  having  fnatch'd  a  rude  embrace, 
Profanes  the  foftnefs  of  that  face ; 


That  face  which  lieav'n  itfelf  imbues 
With  brighteft  charms  and  pureft  hues. 
Oh  !  if  my  couufels  touch  thine  ear, 
(Love's  counfels  always  are  fincere), 
From  his  ungovern'd  tranfports  fly, 
Howe'er  his  form  may  pleafe  thine  eye  ; 
For  conflagrations,  fierce  and  ftrong, 
Are  fatal  ftill,  but  never  long: 
And  he  who  roughly  treats  the  flirine, 
Where  modeft  worth  and  beauty  fliine, 
Forgetful  of  his  former  fire, 
Will  ibon  no  more  thefe  charms  admire. 

How  blefs'd,  how  more  than  blefs'd  are  they 
Whom  love  retains  with  equal  fway  ; 
Whofe  flame  inviolably  bright, 
Still  burns  in  its  meridian  height ; 
Nor  jealous  fears,  nor  cold  difdain, 
Difturb  their  peace,  nor  break  their  chain  : 
But,  when  the  hours  of  life  ebb  fail, 
For  each  in  fighs  they  breathe  their  laft  '. 

TO  A  LADY. 
WITH  HAMMOND'S  ELEGIES. 

An  Elegy. 

O  FORM'D  at  once  to  feel  and  to  infpire 
The  noblefl  paffions  of  the  human  breaft, 

Attend  the  accent  of  love's  fav'rite  lyre, 
And  let  thy  foul  its  moving  force  attcft. 

Exprefllve  paffion,  in  each  found  convey 'd, 
Shall  all  its  joy  difclofe,  and  all  its  fmart; 

Reafon  to  modeft  tendernefs  perfuade,  [heart. 
Smooth  ev'ry  thought,  and  tranquillize  the 

Falfe  is  that  wifdom,  impotent  and  vain,  [fign'd, 
Which  fcorns  the  fphere  by  Heav'n  to  men  af- 

Which  treats  love's  pureft  fires  with  mock  difdain, 
And,  human,  foars  above  the  human  kind. 

Silent  the  mufe  of  elegy  remain'd, 

Her  plaints  untaught  by  nature  to  renew, 

Whilft  fportive  art  delufive  forrows  feignM, 
With  how  much  eafe  diftinguifh'd  from  the  true! 

Ev'n  polifh'd  Waller  mourns  the  conftant  fcorn 
Of  Sacchariffa,  and  his  fate  in  vain : 

With  love  his  fancy,  not  his  heart  is  torn ; 
We  praife  his  wit,  but  cannot  fhare  his  pain. 

Such  force  has  nature,  fo  fupremely  fair, 

With  charms  maternal  her  productions  fhine; 

The  vivid  grace  and  unaffected  air, 

Proclaim  them  all  her  own,  and  all  divine. 

Should  youthful  merit  in  fuch  drains  implore, 
Let  beauty  ftill  vouchfafe  a  gentle  tear. 

What  can  the  foul,  with  paffion  thrill'd,  do  more  f 
The  fong  muft  prove  the  fentimcnt  fincere. 

Cold  cunning  ne'er,  with  animated  ftrair., 
To  other  breafts  can  warmth  unfelt  impart : 

We  fee  her  labour  with  induftrious  pain, 
And  mock  the  turgid  impotence  of  art. 

ODE  TO  AMYNTA. 

B?  folly  led  from  fnare  to  fhare, 
Of  bitter  grief,  fufpenfe,  and  care, 
A  voluntary  prey ;        • 


t»0» 

With  ev'ry  flatt'ring  good  refign'd, 
Once  more  myfelf  and  peace  to  find, 
From  thee  I  force  my  way. 

Yet  with  relu&ant  ftep  and  flow, 
From  all  that's  dear  while  thus  I  go, 

Some  pity  let  me  claim  ! 
Lefs  (mart  th'  expiring  marty'r  feels, 
While  racks  diftend,  or  torturing  wheels 

Tear  his  devoted  frame. 

Nor  think,  like  infants  prone  to  change, 
From  fordid  views  or  weak  revenge, 

My  refolutions  flow : 
'Tis  God's,  'tis  nature's  great  beheft. 
On  every  living  foul  impreft, 

To  feek  relief  from  woe ; 

Nor  yet  explore,  with  curious  bent, 
What,  known,  would  but  thy  foul  torment, 

And  all  its  hopes  betray: 
When  painful  truths  invade  the  mind, 
Sv'n  wifdom  wiflies  to  be  blind, 

And  hates  th'  officious  ray. 

Ye  powers,  who  cordial  and  ferene, 
Protect  the  dear  domeftic  fcene, 

To  your  retreats  1  fly ; 
At  length  by  yours  and  reafon's  aid, 
1  may  to  reft  this  heart  perfuade, 

And  wipe  the  tearful  eye. 

There  nature,  o'er  the  heart  fupreme, 
Shall  every  tender  wifli  reclaim, 

Where'er  they  fondly  flray; 
There  friendfhip's  arms  my  fall  fuftain, 
When,  languid  with  excefs  of  pain, 

My  fainting  nerves  give  way. 

With  cadence  foftthe  flowing  ftream, 
The  fawning  breeze,  the  lambent  gleam, 

Shall  join  their  various  power, 
To  bid  each  pafiion's  riling  tide 
In  philofophic  eafe  fubfide, 

And  iboth  my  penfive  hour. 


AN  ELEGY. 

INSCRIBED  TO  C- 

O  FRIEND,  by  ev'ry  fympathy  endear'd, 
Which  foul  with  foul  in  facred  ties  unite  ; 

The  hour  arrives,  fo  long,  fo  juftly  fear'd, 

Brings  all  its  pangs,  and  finks  each  joy  iii  night. 

For  now  from  Heav'n  my  unavailing  pray'r 
Tofs'd  devious,  mingles  with  the  fportive  gale ; 

No  tender  arts  can  move  my  cruel  fair, 
Nor  all  love's  filent  eloquence  prevail. 

Though  from  my  lips  no  found  unmeaning  flows. 
Though  in  each  adion  fondnefs  is^expreft, 

No  kind  return  fhall  terminate  my  woes, 
Nor  heave  th*  eternal  preffure  from  my  breail. 

Too  well  the  weaknefs  of  my  heart  I  knew ; 

Too  well  love's  pow'r  my  foul  had  felt  before : 
Why  did  1  then  the  pleafmg  ill  purfue, 

And  tempt  the  nwli««  of  my  fate  one;  more  ? 


THE  WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK. 


Confcious  how  few  among  the  fair  fuccced, 
Who  boaft  no  merit  but  a  tender  heart, 

Why  was  my  foul  again  to  chains  decreed, 
To  unrewarded  tears  and  endlefs  fmart  ? 

The  firen  hope,  my  tardy  pace  to  cheer, 
In  gay  prefage  the  fhort'ning  profpedt  drcft, 

With  art  fallacious  brought  the  object  near, 
And  lull'd  each  rifing  doubt  in  fatal  reft. 

1  faw  fuccefs,  or  thought  at  leaft  I  faw, 

Beck'ning  with  fmiles  to  animate  my  fpeed, 

Rcafon  was  mute,  imprefs'd  with  trembling  awe, 
And  mem'ry  not  one  precedent  could  plead. 

How  curs'd  is  he  who  never  learnt  to  fear 
The  keeneft  plagues  his  cruel  ftars  portend! 

Till  o'er  his  head  the  black'ning  clouds  appear, 
And  Heav'n's  collected  florins  at  once  defcend! 

What  further  change  of  fortune  can  I  wait  ? 

What  confummation  to  the  laft  defpair  ? 
She  flies,  yet  fhows  no  pity  for  my  fate; 

She  fees,  yet  deigns  not  in  my  griefs  to  fhare. 

Yet  the  kind  heart,  where  tender  paflions  reign, 
Will  catch  the  foftnefs  when  it  firft  appears ; 

Explore  each  fymptom  of  the  fufferer's  pain, 
Sigh  all  his  fighs,  and  number  all  his  tears. 

This  tribute  from  humanity  is  due,          [beftow  ? 

What  then,  juft  Heav'ns !  what  would  not  love 
Yet  though  the  fair  inlenfible  I  view, 

For  others  blifs  I  would  not  change  my  woe. 

0  blind  to  truth,  and  to  reflection  blind, 
At  length  to  wifdom  and  thyfelf  return  ! 

See  fcience  wait  thee  with  demeanour  kind, 
Whole  frown  or  abfence  no  fond  lovers  mourn. 

Bounteous  and  free  to  all  who  afk  her  aid, 
Her  facred  light  anticipates  their  call, 

Points  «ut  the  precipice  on  which  they  ftray'd, 
And  with  maternal  care  prevents  their  fall. 

Daughter  of  God !  whofe  features  all  exprefs 
Th'  eternal  beauty  whence  thy  being  fprungj 

1  to  thy  facred  fhrine  my  fteps  addrefs,     [tongue. 

And  catch  each  found  from  thyheav'n-prompted 

0  !  take  me  wholly  to  thy  fond  embrace, 
Through  all  my  foul  thy  radiant  beams  infufe ; 

Thence  every  cloud  of  pleafmg  error  chafe; 
Adjuft.  her  organs,  and  enlarge  her  view*. 

Hence,  ever  fixt  on  virtue  and  on  thee, 
No  lower  wifli  (hall  her  attention  claim, 

Till,  like  her  facred  parent,  pure  and  free,    [came. 
She  gain  the  native  Heav'n  from  whence  fhe 

TO  JOHN  M'LAURIN,  ESOJ*. 
WITH  THE  AUTHOR'S  POEMS. 

O  THOU  !  in  whom  maturely  bright  appear* 
The  flame  of  genius  in  the  dawn  of  years; 
Whom  facred  wifdom's  awful  voice  infpires ; 
Whom  heav'n-born  virtue's  fpetleis  beauty  fires : 
Still  let  thcfe  glorious  aims  engage  thy  view; 
With  {training  nerves  the  arduous  path  purfue ; 

Now  Lord  Dregkerrii  int  ef  tit  Smatort  cf  tb* 


P    O    E    H    S. 


roc* 


For  this  revolve  the  facred,  ancient  page, 
The  raptur'd  poe%  and   intlruclive  fage  : 
Nor  fcorn  the  efforts  of  a  modern  miife, 
Proud  to  refleiSt  the  glories  they  diffufe. 
Then,  while  with  confcious  joy  exults  thy  fire  *, 
Viewing  his  fon  to  equal  fame  af'pire, 
When  the  lait  echoes  of  my  mortal  lay, 
Shall  feebly  mix  with  air,  .ifid  die  away  ; 
Still  fliall  my  life  beyond  the  grave  extend, 
And  ages  know  me  for  M'Laurin's  friend. 

EXTEMP6RE  VERSES. 

SPCJKEN  AT    THE  DESIRE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN'. 

THOU,  genius  qf  connubial  love,  attend; 
Let  filent  wonder  all  thy  powers  fufpend  ; 
Whilft  to  thy  glory  I  devote  my  lays, 
And  pour  forth  nil  my  grateful  heart  in  praifc. 

In  lifelefs  flrains  let  vulgar  fiuire  tell, 
That  marriage  oft  is  mixt  with  Heav'n  and  hell, 
That  conjugal  delight  is  four'd  with  fpleen, 
And  peace  and  war  cornpofc  the  varied  fce'ne  ; 
My  mufe  a  truth  fublimer  can  affert, 
And  fing  the  triumphs  of  a  mutual  heart. 
Thrice  happy  they,  who,  through  life's  varied  tide  , 
With  equal  peace  and  gentler  motion  glide  ; 
Whom,  though  the  wave  of  fortune  links  orlwells, 
One  reafon  governs,  and  oae  wifh  impels  ; 
Whofe  emulation  is  to  love  the  bell  ; 
Who  feel  no  blifs,  but  in  each  other  bleft  ; 
Who  know  no  pleafure  but  the  joys  they  give, 
Nor  ceafe  to  love,  but  when  they  ceafe  to  live  : 
If  fate  thefe  blefiings  in  one  lot  combine, 
Then  let  th'  eternal  page  record  them  mine. 

TO  THE  REV.  MR.  SPENCE. 

LATE   PROFESSOR  OF   POETRY  AT  OXFORD. 

Written  at  Dumfries  in  tie  year  1759. 

To  tombs  of  dull  theology  confin'd, 
(Eternal  opiates  of  the  active  mind) 
Long  lay  my  fpirits,  lull'd  in  deep  repofe, 
Incapable  alike  of  verfe  or  prole. 
Unmark'd  by  thought  or  action,  every  day 
Appear'd,  and  pafs'd  in  apathy  away. 

Our  friend,  the  Doctor  f  ,    view'd  with   deep 

regret, 

My  fad  cataftrophe,  my  lifelefs  ftate  ; 
Explor'd  each  ancient  fage,  whofe  labours  tell 
The  force  of  powerful  herb,  or  magic  fpell. 
Phyfic  in  vain  its  boafled  influence  try'd; 
My  flupor  incantation's  voice  defy'd: 
No  charm  could  light  my  fancy's  languid  flame, 
No  charm  but  friendfhip's  voice  andSpence's  name. 
So  from  the  cold  embraces  of  the  tomb, 
Involv'd  in  deep  impenetrable  gloom,  [arife, 

Should  Heav'n's  great  mandate  bid  fome  wretch 
iio\v  would  he  view  the  fun  with  ravilb'd  eyes  ; 
AdYnire  each  part  of  nature's  beauteous  fcene, 
And  welcome  life  and  happinefs  again  ! 
Amau'd  the  doctor  flood,  and  loft  in  thought, 
Nor  could  believe  the  wonder  he  had  wrought; 
Till,  fir'd  at  laft  with  facerdotal  pride, 
"  'Tis  mine  ;—the  work  is  all  my  own,"  he  cried. 


*   The  late  celebrated  Mr.  Cotrt 
\  Rev.  Mr.  Jamrfin* 


"  Hencefotth  fome  nobler  taflc  my  might  {half 

"  prove, 

"  I  mean  fome  lofty  mountain  to  remove, 
"  With  woods  and  fountains  bid  it  wing  its  way 
"  Through  yielding^ir,  and  fettle  in  the  fea." 
But  recollecting,  whence  the  virtue  flow'd 
To  which  returning  life  arid  fenie  1  ow'd, 
He  fnatch'd  his  pen,  and  with  majeftic  tone, 
"  Hence  IndoUnce  and  Sloth."  hecry'd,  "beg«ne;' 
"  Me,  Friendfhip's  fpirit,  bpence's  name  infpire, 
"  My  heart  is  pregnant,  and  my  foul  on  fire  ; 
"  Thought  crowds  on  thought,  thy  brifk  ideas,  flow, 
"  And  much  I  long  to  tell,  and  much  to  know." 

Thus  exercis'd,  to  Lethe's  difmal  fhore 
Fled  Indolence,  and  fought  her  haunts  of  yore, 
With  .all  her  train  forfook  the  poet's  breaft, 
And  left  the  man  completely  difpoffefs'd. 
If  to  your  very  name,  by  bounteous  Heav'n, 
Such  bleft,  reftonng  influence  has  been  giv'n, 
How  muft  your  fweet  approach,  your  afpect  kind, 
Your  foul-reviving  converfe,  warm  the  mind'! 

TO  DR.  BEATTIE. 
WITH  THE  AUTHOR'S  POEMS.  * 

O,  WARM'D  by  irifpiratibn's  brighteft  fire, 
For  whom  the  mufes  firing  their  fav'rite  lyre, 

Though  with  fuperior  genius  bleft,  yet  deign 
A  kind  reception  to  my  humbler  ftrain. 

When  florid  youth  impell'd,  and  fortune  fmil'd^ 
The  vocal  .>.rt  my  languid  hours  beguil'd  ; 

Severer  Itudies  now  my  life  engage  ; 

Refearches  dull,  that  quench  poetic  rage  ; 

From  morn  to  ev'ning  deftin'd  to  explore 
Th'  verbal  critic  and  the  fcholiaft's  lore  ; 

Alas  !  what  beam  of  heay'nly  ardour  fhines 
In  mufty  lexicons  and  fchool  divines? 

Yet,  to  the  darling  object  of  my  heart, 
A  fliort,  but  pleafing  retrofpect  I  dart; 

Revolve  the  labours  of  the  tuneful  quoir, 
And  what  I  cannot  imitate,  admire. 

O  could  my  thoughts  with  all  thy  fpirit  g!oW  ; 

As  thine  harmonious",  could  my  accents  flowj 
Then,"  with  approving  ear,  might'il  thou  attend, 

Nor  in  a  Blacklock  blufh  to  own  a  friend. 

TO  THE  REV.  DR.  OGILV1E. 
"  I  decus,  i,  noftrum,  melioribus  utcre  fatis." 


DT.AR  to  the  rrrufes  and  their  tuneful  train, 
Whom,  long  purfu'd,  I  fcarce.at  laft  regain  ;_ 
Why  fhould'ft  thou  wonder,  if,  when  life  declineVj 
His  antiquated  lyre  thy  friend  refigns. 
Hap'ly,  when  youth  elate  with  native  force, 
Or  emulation  fires  the  generous  horfe, 
Ht  bounds,  he  fprings,  each  nerve  elaftic  {trains, 
And  if  not  victor,  fome  diftinction  gains; 
But  fhould  the  carelefs  rhafler  of  the  lleed, 
Cherifh  no  more  his  mettle  or  his  fpeed, 
Indignantly  he  fhuns  all  future  ftrife, 
And  walles  in  indolent  regret  his  life. 
Such  were  his  efforts,  fuch  his  cold  reward, 
Whom  e^ce  thy  partial  tongue  pronounc'dj»bar«ii 
40 


THE.  WORKS'  OF  BLACKLOCK. 


Excutfive,  on  the  gentle  gales  d  fpring, 

He  rov'd,  whilfl  favour  imp'd  his  timid  wing : 

JLxhaufied  genius  now  no  more  infpires, 

But  mourns  abortive  hopes  and  faded  fires ; 

The  fhort-liv'd  wreath,  whjfh  once  his  temples 

grac'd, 

Pades  at  the  fickly  hreath  of  fqueamifh  tafle ; 
\Vhilft  darker  days  his  fainting  flames  immure 
In  cheerlefs  gloom  and  winter  premature. 
But  thou,  my  friend,  whom  higher  omens  lead, 
Bold  to  achieve,  and  mighty  to  fucceed, 
Tor  whom  frcfh  laurels,  in  eternal  bloom, 
Impregnate  Heav'n  and  earth  with  rich  perfume  ; 
Purfue  thjr  duftin'd  courfe,  affert  thy  fame  ; 
Ev'n  Providence  {hall  vindicate  thy  claim  : 
Rv'n  nature's  wreck,  refounding  through  thy  lays, 
Shall  in  its  final  crafli  proclaim  thy  piaife. 

TO  A  FRIEND, 

Or  WHOSE  HEALTH  AND  SUCCESS   THE  AUTHOR 
11AD    HEARD,   AFTER   A  LONG  ABSENCE. 

THOU  deareft  of  frjends  to  my  heart  ever  known, 
"Whofe  enjoyments  and  fufferings  have  ftill  been 

my  own, 

Since  early  we  met  in  fufceptible  youth, 
"When  glowing  for  virtue,  and  toiling  for  truth ; 
To  God  one  petition,  with  fteady  regard, 
With  ardour  inceffant,  my  fpirit  preferr'd, 
Thy  life  to  protract,  and  thy  bleflings  augment, 
I^ow  my  wifh  is  obtain'd,  and  my  bofom  content. 

You  afk,  by  what  means  I  my  livelihood  gain, 
And  how  my  long  conflict  with  fortune  maintain? 
The  queftion  is  kind,  yet  I  cannot  tell  why, 
'Tis  hard  for  a  fpirit  like  mine  to  reply. 
If  a  friend  with  a  friend  muft  be  free  and  fincere, 
My  vefture  is  fimple,  and  fober  my  cheer ; 
"But  though  few  my  refources.and  vacant  my  pnrfe, 
One  comfort  is  left  me,  things  cannot  be  \vorfc. 
'Tis  vain  to  repine,  as  philofophers  fay, 
So  I  take  what  is  offer'd,  and  live  as  I  may ; 
To  my  wants,  ftill  returning,  adapt  my  fupplies, 
And  find  in  my  hope  what  my  fortune  denies. 

To  the  powerful  and  great  had  I  keenly  apply'd, 
Had  I  toil'd  for  their  plcafures,  or  flatter'd  their 

pride, 
la  fpleiidour  and  wealth  I  perhaps  might  have 

flam'd, 

Tor  learning,  for  virtue,  for  ev'ry  thing  fam'd. 
The  gamefter,  th'  informer,  the  quack,  and  the 

fmuggler, 

The  bully,  the  player,  the  mimic,  the  juggler, 
The  difpenfer  of  libels,  the  teller  of  fortunes, 
And  others  of  equal  refpccl  and  importance, 
Find  high  reputation  and  ample  fubfiilence, 
Whilfl  craving  neccffity  ftands  at  a  diftance. 

But  who  could  determine,  in  foundnefs  of  brain, 
By  priefthood  or  poetry,  life  to  fuftain  ? 
Our  Maker  to  ferve,  or  our  fouls  to  improve, 
Arc  talks  iVlf-rc warded,  and  labours  of  love. 
\ich  wir'a  hunger  and  third  are  defervedly  paid, 

'is  glorious  to  ftarve  by  fo  noble  a  trade : 
'Ti»  guilt  and  ambition  for  priefts  to  pretend 
Their  fame  to  advance,  and  their  fortune  amend  ; 
1  heir  fame  and  their  fortune,  by  pious  mankind, 
Arc  fuch  trifle; efteem'd  as  no  mortal  fhould  mind. 
_    Nor  lefs  by  the  world  is  the  heav'n-aifted  bard, 

:  his  vifi'jKs  abandon'4  to  tind  his  reward. 


Can  fenfations  of  wretchcdnefs  ever  invade 
That  bread  which  Apollo  his  temple  has  made  ? 
On  the  top  of  Parnaffus  his  hermitage  lies; 
And  \vho  can  repine,  when  fo  near  to  the  fkies? 
For  him  fweet  ambrofia  fpontaneoufly  grows ; 
For  him  Agannippe  fpontaneoufly  flows. 
Though  the  bet'rage  be  cool,  and  ethereal  the 

diet, 

Fine  fouls,  thus  regal'd.  fhould  be  happy  and  quiet. 
But  I,  who  fubftantial  nutrition  require, 
Would  rather  the  mufesfhould  feed  than  infpire. 
And  whilft  lofty  Pindus  my  fancy  explores, 
To  earth  the  wild  fugitive  hunger  reflores. 

Yet  left  what  I  mean  be  obfcurely  exprefs'd, 
No  call  is  unanfwer'd,  no  wifh  unredrefs'd: 
But  other  refources  fiipplied  what  was  wanting, 
Lefs  barren  employments  than  preaching  or  chant- 

ing. 

For  thee,  whom  I  glory  to  claim  as  my  friend, 
May  ftars  more  propitious  thy  labours  attend ; 
On  earth  be  thy  profpeet  ftill  fmiling  and  bright, 
And  thy  portion  hereafter  immortal  delight. 

THE  GENEALOGY  OF  NONSENSE. 

WITH  long  and  careful  fcrutiny  in  vain, 

I  fearch'd  th'  obfcure  rcceffes  of  my  brain ; 

The  mufes  oft  with  mournful  voice  I  woo'd, 

To  find  a  plea  for  filence  if  they  could. 

But  through  my  fearch  not  one  excufe  appear'4» 

And  not  a  mufe  would  anfwer  if  fhe  heard. 

Thus  I  remaiu'd  in  anxious,  fad  fufpence, 

Defpairing  aid  from  reafon  or  from  fenfe, 

Till  from  a  pow'r,  of  late  well  known  to  fame, 

Though  not  invok'd,  the  wifh'd  folution  came. 

Now  night  incumbent  fhaded  half  the  ball, 
Silence  afium'd  her  empire  over  all, 
While  on  my  eyes  imperfedl  flumbers  fpread 
Their  downy  wings,  and  hover'd  round  my  head ; 
But  ftill  internal  fenfe  awake  remain'd, 
And  ftill  its  tirft  folicitude  main'd  ; 
When  lo!   with  flow  defcent,  obfcurely  bright, 
Yet  cloth 'd  in  darknefs  vifible,  not  light, 
A  form,  high  tow'ring  to  the  diflant  fkies, 
In  mimic  grandeur,  flood  before  my  eyes : 
As  ;.f,-.er  itorms  waves  faintly  lafh  the  more, 
As  hollow  winds  in  rocky  caverns  roar,          fear, 
Such  were  the  founds  which  pierc'd  my  trembling 
And  chill'd  my  foul  with  more  than  common  fear. 

Thus  fpoke  the  pow'r :— "  From  yon  extended 

"  void, 

"  Where  Jove's  creating  hand  was  ne'er  employ'd, 
"  Where  foft  with  hard,  ami  heavy  mix'd  with 

"  light, 

"  And  heat  with  cold,  maintain  eternal  fight ; 
"  Where  end  the  realms  of  order,  form,  and  day ; 
"  Where  night  and  chaos  hold  primjtval  fway  ; 
"  Their  firfl,  their  ever-darling  offspring  view, 
"  Who  comes  thy  wonted  calmn-.'fs  to  renew. 
"  Ere  yet  the  mountains  rear'd  their  heads  on 

"  high, 

"  Ere  yet  the  radiant  fun  illum'd  the  flcy, 
"  Ere  fwelling  hills,  or  humble  vales  were  feert, 
"  Or  woods  the  profpecT:   cheer'd  with  waving 

"  green  ; 

'  Kre  nature  V.-as,  my  wond'rou*  birth  I  date, 
'•<•  More  old  than  Chance,  Neceffity,  or  Fate; 
"  Ere  yet  the  mufes  touch'd  the  vocal  lyre, 
"  My  reverend  mother  and  tumultuous  fire 


POEMS. 


**  Beheld  tny  vrenu'rcirs  birth  with  vaft  amaze, 
"  And  Difcord'sboundlefs  empire  roar'dmypraife. 

"  In  me,  whate'er  by  nature  is  disjoin'd, 
"  All  oppofite  extremes  involv'd  you  find  : 
"   Born  to  retain,  by  fate's  eternal  doom, 
"  My  fire's  confufion,  and  my  mother's  gloom. 
"  Where'er  extend  the  realms  of  letter'd  pride, 
"  With  uncontroll'd  dominion  I  prefide ; 
"  Through  its  deep  gloom  1  dart  the  doubtful  ray, 
"  And  teach  the  learned  idiots  tvhere  to  ftray : 
"  The  labouring  chemift,  and  profound  divine, 
"  Err,  not  fcduc'd  by  reafori's  light,  but  mine. 
"  From  me  alone  thefe  hoaft  the  wond'rous  fkill 

To  make  a  myft'ry  more  myftcrious  {till ; 

While  thofe  purfue  by  fcieiice  not  their  own, 
"  The  univerfal  cure,  and  philofophic  ftone. 
"  Thus,  when  the  leaden  pedant  courts  my  aid, 
"  To  cover  ignorance  with  learning's  fhade, 
"  To  fwcll  the  folio  to  a  proper  fize,. 
"  And  throw  the  clouds  of  art  o'er  nature's  eyes, 
"  My  foporific  pow'r  the  fages  own ; 
*'  Hence  by  th-  facred  name  of  Dulnefs  known  : 
"  But  if  mercurial  fcribblers  pant  for  fame, 
"  Thofe  I  infpire,  nnd  Nonfenfe  is  my  name. 
"  Suftain'd  by  me,  thy  mule  firft  took  her  flight, 
"  I  circumfcrib'd  its  limits  and  its  height; 
"  By  me  fhe  finks,  by  me  fiie  foars  along ; 
"  1  rule  her  filence,  and  I  prompt  her  long.'' 

My  doubts  refolv'd, the  goddelswing'd  her  flight, 
Diffolv'd  in  air,  and  myc'dwith  formlefs  night. 
Much  more  the  mufe,  reluctant,  muft  fupprefs, 
For  all  the  pow'r  of  time  and  fate  confefs; 
Too  foft  her  accents,  and  too  weak  her  pray'r, 
For  time  or  fate,  or  cruel  pofts  to  hear. 

ODE  ON  MELISSA'S  BIRTH-DAY. 
YE  nymphs  and  fwains,  whom  love  infpires 
With  all  his  pure  and  faithful  fires, 
Hither  with  joyful  fteps  repair  ; 
You  who  his  tendereft  tranfports  fhare !    • 
For  lo !  in  beauty's  gayeft  pride, 
Summer  expands  her  bofom  wide  ; 
The  fun  no  more  in  clouds  enfhrin'd, 
Darts  all  his  glories  unconfm'd ; 
The  feather' d  choir  from  every  fpray 
Salute  Meliffa's  natal  day. 

Hither  ye  nympths  and  fhepherds  hafte, 
Each  with  a  flow'ry  chaplet  grac'd, 
With  tranfport  while  the  fhades  refound, 
And  nature  fpreads  her  charms  around; 
While  ev'ry  breeze  exhales  per  fumes, 
And  Bion  his  mute  pipe  refumes ; 
With  Bion  long  difus'd  to  play, 
Salute  Meliffa's  natal  day. 

For  Bion  long  deplor'd  his  pain 
Through  woods  and  devious  v,  ilds  in  vain; 
At  laft  impell'd  by  deep  defpair, 
The  fwain  preferr'd  his  ardent  pray'r; 
His  ardent  pray'r  Meliffa  heard, 
And  every  latent  forrow  cheer'd, 
His  days  with  focial  rapture  bleft, 
And  footh'd  each  anxious  care  to  reft. 
Tune,  fhepherds,  tune  the  ftftive  lay, 
And  hail  Meliffa's  natal  day. 

With  nature's  incenfe  to  the  Ikies 
Let  all  your  fervid  wifhrs  rife, 


That  Heav'n  and  earth  may  join  to  fhed 
Their  choiceft  blefiings  on  her  head  ; 
That  years  protracted,  as  they  flow, 
May  pleafures  more  fublime  beftow  ; 
While  by  fucceeding  years  furpaft, 
The  happieft  flill  may  be  the  lafl; 
And  thus  each  circling  fun  difplay, 
A  more  aufpicious  natal  day. 

ODE  TO  AURORA. 
ON  MELISSA'S  BIRTH-DAY. 

OF  time  and  nature  eldeft  born, 

tmerge  thon  rofy-finger'd  morn, 

Emerge,  in  pureft  drefs  arniy'd, 

Arid  chace  from  Heav'n  night's  envious  fhade, 

That  I  once  more  may,  pleas  d,  fuivey, 

And  hail  Meliffa's  natal  day. 

Of  time  and  nature  eldeft  born, 
Emerge,  thou  rofy-fingcr'd  morn : 
In  order  at  the  eaftern  gate 
The  hours  to  draw  thy  chariot  wait ; 
Whilft  zephyr,  on  his  balmy  wings, 
Mild  nature's  fragrant  tribute  brings, 
With  odours  fwect  to  ftrew  thy  way, 
And  grace  the  bland,  revolving  day. 

But  as  thou  lead'ft  the  radiant  fphere, 
That  gilds  its  birth    and  marks  the  year, 
And  as  his  ftronger  glories  rife, 
t)iffus'd  around  th'  expanded  ikies, 
Till  cloth'd  with  beams  ferenely  bright, 
All  Heav'n's  vaft  concave  flames  with  light; 
So    when,  through  life's  protracted  day, 
Meliffa  ftill  purfues  her  way, 
Her  virtues  with  thy  fplendour  vie, 
Increafing  to  the  mental  eye : 
Though  lefs  confpicuous,  not  !cfs  dear, 
Long  may  they  Bion's  profpeet  cheer  ; 
^o  (hall  hi«  heart  no  more  repine, 
Blefs'd  with  her  rays,  though  robb'd  of  thine. 

TO  DR.  EVANS. 

DEAR  Doctor,  as  it  ismofl  fit, 
Your  accufation  I  admit 
In  all  its  force,  nor  rack  my  brain, 
By  quirks  and  fubterfuges  vain, 
To  throw  my  conduct  into  fhade, 
And  thus  your  juft  rebuke  evade. 
But,  fince  convicted  now  I  ftand, 
And  wait  correction  from  your  hand, 
Be  merciful  as  thou  art  flrong, 
And  recognize  the  power  of  long. 
For.  while  in  accents  deep  and  hoarfc, 
She  breathes  contrition  and  remorfe, 
The  mufe's  penitential  ftrain, 
For  pardon  cannot  fue  in  vain. 
But,  let  me,  with  profound  refpcct, 
A  fad  mif.ake  of  your's  correct. 
When  once  th'  Aonian  maids  difcove? 
Some  .favour  tor  a  youthful  lover, 
You  think  their  paffion  full  as  keen 
Per  him  at  fixty  as  fixtcen. 
Alas  the  fex  you  little  know, 
Their  ruling  pr.tuon.  i«  a  beau. 


The  wrir/kl'd  brow,  th*  extinguifh'd  eye, 

From  female  hearts  ne'er  gain  a  figh. 

The  brilliant  glance,  the  cheek  vermile, 

Th'  elaftic  nerve,  th'  enchanting  fmile, 

Thefe,  only  thefe,  can  hearts  confine 

Of  ladies  human  or  divine. 

No  mind,  immortal  though  it  be, 

From  life's  viciflitudes  is  free, 

The  man  who  labours  to  acquit 

Of  imperfection  human  wit, 

Will  rind  he  undertakes  a  tafk 

That  proves  what  his  opponents  aflc ;   . 

And  feel,  to  his  eternal  coft, 

His  own  attempts  refute  his  boaft. 

Forc'd,  by  experience  and  fenfation, 

1  make  this  humble  declaration  : 

For,  fhould  my  pride  my  words  reftrain, 

Thefe  lays  would  fhow  the  fact  too  plaiu. 

Cloth'd  in  a  lion's  fldn,  the  afs 

At  firft  might  for  a  lion  pafs ; 

But  when  the  ftupid  creature  bray'd, 

His  real  felf  he  foon  betray "d, 

And  every  flick  and  every  {lone 

"Were  us'd,  to  fhow  him  he  was  known. 

Thus,  batter'd  by  farcaftic  fneers, 

I  fhut  my  mouth  and  hide  my  ears  -t 

Blefs'd,  if  unhurt  1  may  elude 

The  obfervation  of  the  crowd. 

Yet,  fpite  of  all  the  ills  that  prey 

On  ebbing  life  from  day  to  day, 

It  warm'd  my  veins  with  youthful  fire, 

And  rais'd  my  heart  a  cubit  higher, 

To  hear  your  own  kind  words  expiefs 

Your  competition  and  fuccefs. 

So,  when  portentous  fymptoms  threat 

Your  patients  with  impending  fate, 

At  your  approach  may  they  recede, 

And  fickntfs  lift  its  drooping  head ; 

While  health  and  joy  your  nod  obey. 

And  fly  where'er  you  point  their  way. 

One  great  achievement  ilill  remains, 

One  triumph,  worthy  of  your  pains; 

Could  you  the  thefts  of  time  reftore, 

And  make  me  what  1  was  of  yore , 

In  fpite  of  fortune's  utmoft  fpleen, 

Which  bards  oft  feel  to  intervene, 

1  might,  perhaps,  as  friend  with  friend, 

At  ihrewfbury  feme  evenings  fpcnd ; 

'I  here,  in  abufe  that  meant  no  harm, 

Aflert  the  foul  of  humour  warm ; 

And  laugh  at  thofe  whofe  lives  provoke 

The  fatire  we  effufc  in  joke. 

And  now,  perhaps,  you  wifh  to  know, 

With  your  wld  friends,  how  matters  go ; 

What  ftate  of  health  they  flill  enjoy, 

And  how  their  various  hours  employ  ? 

But  this  detail  more  glibly  flows 

In  eafy  ftyle  and  humble  prole ; 

And,  with  more  patience,  will  be  heard. 

To  my  Melifla  when  transferr'd. 

!f  fcults  acknowledg'd  be  forgiven, 

And  all  our  former  odds  made  even, 

Pray  write  me  foon,  to  let  me  fee 

How  much  fupcrior  you  can  be 

To  doctors  in-  divinity. 

Meanwhile,  believe  me  flill  fincere, 

Whatever  guifc  my  conduct  wear, 

And  dill  with  friendlhip,  no  lefs  fervent, 

Your  mo&  obedient  humble  fervant. 


THE   WORKS    OF   BLACKLOCK. 

TO  MR.  DALZEL, 


PROFESSOR    OF    GREEK    IN    THE    UNIVERSITY 
OF    EDINBURGH. 

YE  fairy  fields,  where  youthful  fancy  ftray'd, 
Ye  landfcapes  vefled  in  eternal  green, 

Ceafe  my  reluctant  abfence  to  upbraid; 

Eadh  joy  I  lofe,  when  you  no  more  are  feen. 

The  raptur'd  heart,  th'  enthufiaftic  eye,      [mird, 
The  bright  conception    darting    through    the 

From  my  remoteft  hopes  how  far  they  fly, 
And  leave  a  gloomy  folitude  behind  ? 

Ethereal  people  of  each  glowing  fcene, 
Which  meditation  pictur'd  in  my  fight, 

Of  ever  beauteous  and  celeflial  mien : 

Why  fink  you  thus  amid  the  fhades  of  night  ? 

No  more  the  harp  fhall  Polyhymnia  tune, 
No  warbling  flute  Euterpe's  breath  infpire, 

Ah  !  why  for  ever  filent,  why  fo  foon 

Should  every  mufe  forbear  to  flrike  the  lyre  ? 

To  me  a  faded  form  e'en  nature  wears; 

Its  vivid  colours  every  flow'r  refigns, 
The  blafled  lawns  no  tint  of  verdure  cheer*, 

Shorn  of  his  beams  the  fun  more  faintly  fhiney. 

Age,  hood-wink'd  age,  exterminates  the  whole,' 
She  o'er  the  profpect  night  and  horror  fpread* ; 

Her  endlefs  winter  intercepts  the  foul, 

From  limpid  fountains  and  enchanted  meads. 

O  come,  Dalzel  *,  whofe  comprehenfive  view, 
Whate'er  the  mufe  exhibits,  can  furvey, 

The  flying  phantom  teach  me  to  purfue, 
Direct  my  courfe,  and  animate  my  ky. 

Yet  from  th'  ungrateful  bofom  of  the  tomb 
Should  Jafon's  magic  wife  emerge  once  more, 

Nor  thou,  nor  fhe,  my  genius  could  relume  ; 
Nor  thou,  nor  fhe,  the  flame  of  youth  reftore. 

TO  DR.  DOWNMAN,  IN  LONDON. 

To  the  fond  mufe,  who  fings  of  rural  joys, 
Involv'd  in  politics,  and  fmoke  and  noile, 
Her  Scotian  filter  gratubtion  fends, 
Fleas'd  that  her  tafte,  not  on  her  place  depends. 
For  oft  contagions  in  the  city  breeze, 
Hovering  unfeen,  unfelt,  the  fancy  feize : 
Surrounding  objects  catch  the  roving  eye, 
And  tailes  with  fituations  oft  comply. 
There  party-paffion  wears  the  form  of  truth, 
Pleafure  in  virtue's  maflcfeduces  youth, 
Still  handing  round  the  fweet  Circean  bowl, 
I'o  warp  the  judgment,  ana  pervert  the  foul. 
Ye  early  plans  and  wiihes  then  adieu, 
We  feek  not  what  is  fair,  but  what  is  new  ; 

I  Each  former  prepoffeffion  leaves  the  heart, 

j  And  nature  yields  to  meretricious  art. 

Oh  !  if  in  heav'n  fome  chofcn  curfe  remain, 

j  Nor  thunders  roll,  nor  lightnings  flafh  in  vain, 

j  Curs'd  be  the  wretch  who  cities  firft  defign'd, 
To  blaft  each  native  worth  of  human  kind. 
When  firft  Aftrea  faw  their  ftructures  rife, 
Fir'd  with  indignant  rage,  fhe  fought  the  fkics. 

*   This  gentleman  delivered  a  courfe  of  critical  leflurcs 
on  poetry ,  tuticb  did  honour  to  tbefeminary  in  -which  4*    ' 
it  engaged^  end  to  tbc  country  where  be  fives, ' 


POEM?, 


Th'  ingenious  wifh,  that  in  one  wide  embrace 
Clafp'd  nature's  frame,  and  glow'd  for  all  her  race, 
Fair  hofpitality,  in  blefling  bleft, 
Primeval  candour,  of  tranflucent  hreaft, 
With  horror  fkuddering  at  the  baneful  fight, 
Retir'd,  the  vow'd  companions  of  her  flight: 
Then  from  her  bofom  hell  difgorg'd  her  train, 
The  luft  ofpleafure,  and  the  thirft  of  gain, 
Then  pride  luxurious  rear'd  her  creft  on  high, 
Deceit  then  forg'd  the  name,  and  cogg'd  the  die, 
Then  lavvlefs  tyrants  from  the  throne  decreed 
Virtue  to  toil,  and  innocence  to  bleed. 
In  heart  a  tyger,  though  in  looks  a  child, 
AiTafiination  ftabb'd  his  friend,  and  fmil'd; 
\Vhileperjury,  with  unaverted  eye, 
Invok'd  the  God  of  truth  to  feal  a  lie. 

O  confcious  peace  !  to  few  indulged  by  fate, 
When  fhall  I  find  orfce  more  thy  dear  retreat  ? 
When  (hall  my  fteps  the  guiltlefs  fcenes  explore,     ' 
Where  virtue's  fmiles  the  age  of  gold  reftore, 
Where  charity  to  all  her  arms  extends, 
And  as  (lie  numbers  faces,  numbers  friends? 
Where  unaffected  fympathy  appears 
In  cordial  fmiles,  or  undiffembled  tears  ? 
Where  innocence  and  mirth,  the  farmer's  wealth, 
Walk  hand  in  hand  with  exercife  and  health  ? 
Nor  when  the  fetting  fun  withdraws  his  ray, 
And  labour  clofes  with  the  clofing  day, 
Would  1,  with  haughty  infolence,  avoid 
The  fcenes  where  fimple  nature  is  enjoy'd; 
But  pleas'd,  in  frolic,  or  diicourfe  engage 
With  fportive  youth,  or  hofpitable  age, 
Exert  my  talents  to  amufe  the  throng 
In  wond'rous  legend,  or  in  rural  fong. 

Thus,  by  no  wifh  for  alteration  feiz'd, 
My   neighbours   pleafing,    with    my  neighbours 

pleas'd, 

Exempt  from  each  excefs  of  blifs  or  woe, 
My  letting  hours  (hould  uniformly  flow, 
Till  nature  to  the  duft  thefe  limbs  coniign'd, 
Leaving  a  fhort,  but  well-earn'd  fame  behind. 
For  thee,  whom  nature  and  the  mufc  infpire 
With  tafte  refin'd,  and  elegant  defire, 
'Tis  thine,  where'er  thou  mov'ft,  thy  blifs  to  find, 
Drawn  from  the  native  treafures  of  thy  mind; 
To  brighten  life  with  love  or  friendfhip's  ray, 
Or  through  the  mufe's  land  in  rapture's  ftray. 
Oh  !  may  thy  foul  her  fav'rite  objects  gain, 
And  not  a  wifh  afpire  to  heav'n  in  vain  ! 
Full  on  thy  lateft  hours  may  genius  fhine, 
And  each  domcftic  happinefs  be  thine ! 

TO  THE  SAME. 

YES,  'tis  refolv'd,  in  nature's  fpite, 
Nay  more,  refolv'd  in  rhyme  to  write : 
Though  to  my  chamber's  walls  confin'd 
By  beating  rains,  and  roaring  wind, 
Though  lowring,  as  the  wint'ry  fky, 
Involv'd  in  fplcen  my  fpirits  lie, 
Though  cold,  as  hyperborean  fnows, 
No  feeble  ray  of  genius  glows, 
To  friendfhip  tribute  let  me  pay, 
And  gratitude's  behefts  obey. 

Whilft  man  in  this  precarious  flation 
Of  ftruggle  and  of  fluctuation, 
Protracts  his  being,  is  it  ftrange 
That  humour,  genius,  wit,  fhould  change  ? 


The  mind  which  moft  of  force  inherits, 
Muft  feel  viciffitude  of  fpirits  : 
And  h.^ppieft  they,  who  lead  depreft, 
Of  life's  bad  bargain  make  the  beft. 
Thus,  though  my  fong  he  can't  commend, 
Th*  attempt  will  pleaie.my  gentle  friend ; 
For  he  of  life's  uncertain  round 
The  cloudy  and  lercne  hath  found. 

Cheering,  as  fummer's  balmy  fhowers, 
To  thirfly  herbs  and  languid  flowers, 
Your  late  epiftJe  reach'd  my  ear, 
And  fill'd  my  heart  with  joy  fmcere. 
Before  my  eyes  in  profpect  plain 
Appear'd  the  confecrated  fane. 
"Where  friendfhip's  holy  prefence  (hines, 
And  grief  difarms,  and  blifs  refines. 
Long  may  the  beauteous  fabric  rife, 
Unite  all  hearts  and  charm  all  eyes, 
Above  all  contingency  and  time, 
Stable  as  earth,  as  heav'n  fublime  ! 
And  while  its  more  than  folar  light 
Through  nature's  frame  flows  piercing  bright, 
May  we  through  life's  ambiguous  maze 
Imbibe  its  moft  aufpicious  rays; 
View  unioipair'd  its  fvveet  exiftence, 
By  length  of  years,  or  local  diftance ; 
And  while  our  hearts  revolve  the  pail, 
Still  feel  its  warmeft  moments  laft  ! 
With  each  kind  wifh  which  friendfhip  knows, 
For  you  Meliffa's  bofom  glows. 
Her  heart  capacious  and  fmcere, 
Where  thofe  once  priz'd  muft  ftill  be  dear, 
Though  long  of  filence  (he  complains, 
For  Thefpia  all  her  love  retains. 

Now,  whether  profe  your  fancy  pleafe, 
The  ftyle  of  elegance  and  cafe, 
Or  whether  ftrains  fo  debonair, 
As  might  from  anguifh  charm  defpair, 
To  us  at  leaft  a  pittance  deal, 
Who  long  to  fee  your  hand  and  feal.          * 

TO  MELISSA. 

WRITTEN    IN    THE    YEAR    1790. 

DEAR,  welcome  fharer  of  my  breaft, 
Of  friends  tihe  kindeft  and  the  beft, 
What  numbers  fhall  the  mufe  employ, 
To  fpeak  my  gratitude  and  joy  ? 
Twice  ten  times  has  the  circling  year, 
And  oftener,  finifh'd  its  career, 
Since  firft  in  Hymen'*  facred  bands, 
With  mingl'd  hearts  we  join'd  our  hands. 

Aufpicious  hour  !  from  whence  I  date 
The  brighteft  colours  of  my  fate ; 
From  whence  felicity  alone, 
To  my  dejected  heart  was  known. 
For  then,  my  days  from  woe  to  fcrecn, 
Thy  watchful  tendernefs  was  feen  ; 
Nor  did  its  kind  attentions  mifs  • 

To  heighten  and  improve  my  blifs. 

Oft  have  I  felt  its  pleafing  power 
Delude  the  folitary  hour; 
Oft  has  it  charm'd  the  cruel  fmart, 
When  pain  and  anguifh  rack'd  my  heart.  ' 
Thus  may  our  days  which  yet  remain, 
Be  free  from  bitternefs  and  pain ! 
So  limpid  dreams  ftill  purer  grow, 
For  ever  bright'ning  as  they  flow, 
4  Giij 


1206 


THE  WORKS  OF  BLACKLOCK. 


When  death  muft  come,  for  come  it  will, 
And  I  heav'n's  purpofes  fulfil, 
When  heart  with  heart,  and  foul  with  foul 
Blending,  I  reach  life's  utmoft  goal, 
When  nature's  debt  this  frame  (hall  pay, 
And  earth  receive  my  mortal  clay; 
Not  unconcerned  (halt  thou  behold 
My  afhes  mingling  with  the  mold; 
But  drop  a  tear,  and  heave  a  figh, 
Yet  hope  to  meet  me  in  the  Iky ; 
When,  life's  continual  fuff'rings  o'er, 
We  joyful  meet,  to  part  no  more. 

TO  TWO  SISTERS, 

ON  THEIR  WEDDING-DAT. 

An  Epiftle. 

DEAR  ladies,  whilft  the  nuptial  hour  at  hand 
Muft  all  your  time,  and  all  jour  thoughts  de 
mand. 

Though  all  the  Nine  my  tuneful  ftrain  infpir'd, 
I\Iy  heart  though  all  the  force  of  friend/hip  fir'd, 
Though  warm'd  with  tranfport  for  my  lovely 

theme, 

I  won'd  not  long  your  kind  attention  claim  : 
Yet  let  me  join  the  gratulating  throng, 
And  breathe  to  Heav'n  one  ardent  with  in  fong. 
That  all  jour  future  days,  ferene  and  bright, 
May  flow  diltinguifli'd  by  fincere  delight ; 
That  full  fuccefs  your  wifties  may  attend, 
And  HeavVs  left  bleffings  on  your  heads  defcend ; 
That  Icve  and  joy  may  on  each  period  wait, 
While  hoary  Time  unrolls  the  page  of  fate  ; 
Till  all  who  hear  your  deltiny  admire, 
Nor  more  from  Heav'n  to  make  ihem  blefs'd  re 
quire  ; 

Till  tender  mothers,  who  your  lot  furvey, 
Thus  in  the  fondnefs  of  their  fouls  fiiall  pray  : 
"  May  my  fair  daughter,  or  my  fav'rite  fon, 
"  Ee   blefs'd,    and  live  and  love  as  theie  have 
"  done.1' 

ESTIMATE  OF  HUMAN  GREATNESS. 


ONE  night  I  dream'd,  and  dreams  may  oft  prove 

true, 

That  to  this  foolilh  world  I  bade  adieu. 
"With  folenm  rites,  and  decent  griet  dtplor'd, 
My  friends  to  mother  earth  her  gift  reftor'd. 
But  O  !  eternal  infult  to  my  fhade, 
Clofe  by  a  vile  plebeian  corfe  was  laid  ! 
Enrag'd.  confin'd.  I  try'd  to  (hitr  my  ground  ; 
But  all  attempts  were  unlucrefsful  found. 
Be  gone,  grofs  lump,  I  cry'd  in  h.gh  difdain, 
£ofl.,ve  of  abjecl  birth  fliallhere  remain, 
fie  diftant  far— to  nobler  names  give  way, 
And  m.x  with  vulgar  duft  thy  fordid  clay. 
I  hou  fool  I  thou  wretch  !  a  hollow  v,,,ce  reply'd, 
NOW  Jean  the  impotence  of  wealth  at.d  pride- 
Hereditary  names  and  honours,  here 

:--i  all  their  farce  and  tmiel  dlfappear. 

thefc    dark  realms,   Death's   reptile  heralds 

tr«i€c 
from  one  fol;  origin  all  human  race : 


On  all  the  line  one  equal  lot  attends; 
From  duft  it  riles  and  to  duft  defcends. 
Here  pale  ambition,  quitting  pomp  and  form, 
Admits  her  laft— beft  counsellor,  a  worm. 
Here  nature's  charter  Hands  confirm'd  alone ; 
The  grave  is  lels  precarious  than  the  throne. 
Then  feek  not  here  pre-eminence  and  ftate, 
But  own  and  blels  th'  impartial  will  of  fate; 
With  life,  its  errors  and  its  whims  refign, 
Nor  think  a  beggar's  title  worfe  than  thine. 

TO  HER  GRACE  THE  DUCHESS  OF 
HAMILTON, 

ON  HER  RECOVERY  FROM  CHILD-BED, 

After  the  Birth  of  the  Marquis  of  Clydefdale. 

HAIL  !  nature's  levelled  work  and  darling  care, 
Whofe  worth  and  beauty  equal  praifes  claim, 

Form'd  Heav'n's  fupreme  beneficence  to  mare, 
A  nation's  wonder,  and  a  mother's  name. 

No  venal  mufe  with  mercenary  praife, 

Infults  thy  tafte,  or  wounds  thy  modeft  ear ; 

When  Heav'n,  or  heav'nly  beauty  prompts  her  lays, 
As  high  the  theme,  the  tribute  flows  fincere. 

Blefs'd  be  the  hours,  which,  with  aufpicious  flight, 
Reltore  thy  former  health  and  native  bloom  j 

To  bid  the  wifhing  world  its  eyes  delight, 

And  tame,  with  all  her  mouths,  thy  praife  re- 
fume. 

O  may  the  infant  product  of  thy  pain, 
Beyond  a  mother's  wiQi  to  greatnefs  rife  ; 

The  cloudlefs  glories  of  his  race  fultain, 
On  earth  belov'd,  and  hcnour'd  in  the  Ikies, 

Fr.  ught  with  the  richeft,  nobleft  gifts  of  fate, 
Serenely  gay  may  all  thy  moments  roll; 

To  crown  th)  days  let  ev'ry  pleafure  wait, 
Bright  as  thy  charms,  and  ipotlefs  as  thy  foul, 

ODE 

ON  A  EAVOWRITE  LAJ-DOS. 

To  MiJ's  G J . 

PRETTY,  fportive,  happy  creature, 

Full  ot  lite,  and  full  of  play, 
Taught  to  live  by  taithfui  r.ature, 

.Nfvcr  canli  thou  mils  thy  way. 

By  her  dictates  kind  inftrucled, 

Thou  avoid'ft  eath  real  fmart ; 
We,  by  other  rules  conducted, 

Lole  our  joy  to  fliow  our  art. 

Urdifguis'd,  each  reigning  paflion 
When  thou  mov'ft  or  look'lt  we  fee  : 

Were  the  lame  with  us  the  fafhion, 
Happy  mortals  would  we  be  ! 

May  her  favour  ftill  purfue  thee, 

Who  propoi'd  thee  for  my  theme ; 
Till  fupencr  charms  luhdue  thee, 

And  infpire  a  nobler  flame. 

In  each  other  blefs'd  and  blefling, 
Years  of  pleaiure  let  them  live ; 


POEMS. 


1207 


Each  all  active  worth  pofieffing, 
Earth  admires  or  heav'n  can  give, 


TO  A  SUCCESSFUL  RIVAL, 

WHO  SAID  IRONICALLY,  HE  PITIED  THE  AUTHOR. 

An  Ode. 

THOU  pity  !  fond  unthinking  boy, 

Falfely  elate  with  diilant  joy, 
Did  e'er  thy  heart  the  kind  emotion  know, 
Th'  endearing  pangs  of  fympathetic  woe  ! 

Yes ;  as  on  Nile's  prolific  fhore, 
The  monfters,  cloy'd  with  recent  gore, 
Sad  o'er  the  reeking  carcafe  howling  lie, 
Such    tears,  fincere  as  thine,  o'erflow  the  mur- 
d'rer's  eye. 

O  loft  to  virtue  !  loft  to  fhame  ! 

Beneath  fair  frienclfhip's  holy  name, 
Impious  to  tempt,  and  ftibtle  to  betray, 
While  heav'ii  and  earth  the  daring  crime  furvey. 

What  devil  arm'd  thy  front  with  fteel, 
To  feign  a  griff  thou  ne'er  couldft  feel ; 
Without  a  blufli,  the  faithlefs  iigh  to  heave, 
Arid  mourn  the  mortal  ftab  thy  own  curs'd  dag 
ger  gave  ? 

But  if  to  heav'n's  impartial  throne, 
The  piercing  figh  and  bitter  groan, 
For  juft  redrefs,  on  angel  wings  anfe, 
Then  dread  the  blafting  vengeance  of  the  Cues. 

Ah,  where  will  rage  my  foul  impel? 

How  high  the  tide  of  fury  fwell  ? 
Fool  !  thus  to  curie  the  man  whole  ev'ry  fmart 
Mull  pierce  thy  inmoit  foul,  muft  wound  Clarin- 
da's  heart. 

CATO  UTICENSIS    TO  HIS  WIFE  AT 
ROME. 

IN  diftant  regions,  freedom's  laft  retreat, 
Where  Rome  and  flie  their  tinal  crilis  wait, 
Cato  reflects  how  much  he  once  was  bleft, 
And  greets  with  health  the  fav'rite  of  his  breaft. 

Oh  '.  when  my  foul  with  retrofpective  eyes 
Beholds  each  fcene  of  pall  enjoyment  rife, 
Ere  vice  and  Heav'n's  irrevocable  doom 
Shook  the  firm  bafis  of  imperial  Rome, 
What  horrors  muft  this  patriot  heart  congeal ! 
What  mull  a  father  and  an  hulband  feel ! 
Ye  moments,  deftin^d  to  eternal  flight, 
Who  fhone  on  each  domelHc  bleffing  bright, 
Who  faw  me  with  earth's  legiflators  join'd, 
Balance  the  facred  rights  of  human  kind, 
No  more  my  foul  your  blels'd  return  mult  know, 
Conlign'd  to  fetters,  infamy,  and  woe ; 
ExpeH'cl  from  Rome,  and  ail  that's  dear,  we  fly 
Through  fruitlefs  deferts,  and  a  flaming  Iky, 
Where  thunders  roar  incefiam,  lightnings  glare, 
And  plagues  unnumber'd  taint  the  boundleis  air; 
Where  ferpents,  children  of  eternal  night, 
Enfure  perdition  with  their  mortal  bite ; 
Where  burning  fands  to  heav'n  in  furges  rollj 
And  fcorchicg  heats  evaporate  the  fout 


Yet  plea^d  thefe  harfli  extremes  of  f;ite  we  bear; 
For  liberty,  heay'n's  nobleft  gift,  is  here. 
Unaw'd  by  pow'r,  from  venal  (hackles  free, 
Our  hands  accomplifli  what  our  hearts  decree. 
Yet  here,  where  anguifh,  want,  and  horror  reign, 
The  heav'nly  power  explores  a  feat  in  vain. 
Ambitious  blood-hounds  hold  her  clofe  in  view, 
Faithful  to  fcent,  and  active  to  purfue. 
See  o'er  the  t'pacious  globe  their  courfe  they  bend, 
See  conquelt  and  fuccefs  their  fteps  attend. 
Oceans  in  vain  to  flop  their  paffage  flow, 
And  mountains  rife  ineverlaiting  fnow. 
Obfequious  billows  own  tyrannic  fway, 
And  Itorms  have  learn'd  to  flatter  and  obey. 
Eternal  I'ow'rs  !  whole  will  is  natur6's  guide; 
Who  o'er  high  heav'n  and  earth  and  hell  prefide, 
Muft  then  that  plan  of  liberty  expire, 
Which  patriot  bofoms  more  than  life  defire  ? 
Is  public  happinefs  for  ever  fled, 
For  which  the  fage  explor'd  and  hero  bled  ? 
Shall  Fompey's  blood  the  coaft  of  Egypt  Itain? 
Shall  civil  fiaughter  load  Pharfalia's  plain  ? 
With  reeking  gore  fliall  plunder'd  temples  flow  ? 
Is  Jove  or  Crefar  god  of  all  below  ? 
Be  curs'd  the  time  when  pleafure  and  her  train, 
O'er  Rome  extended  firit  their  fatal  reign  ; 
For  O  !  'twas  then,  in  that  deteited  hour, 
That  rirft  the  luft  of  treafure  and  of  power 
From  public  welfare  could  our  views  divert, 
And  quench  each  virtue  in  the  human  heart, 

THE  CHRONICLE  OF  A  HEART, 

IN  IMITATION  OF  COWLEY. 

How  often  my  heart  has  by  love  been  o'erthrown, 
What  grand  revolutions  its  empire  has  known, 
You  alk  me,  dear  friend,  then  attend  the  fad  drain, 
Since  you  bid  me  renew  fuch  ineffable  pain. 

Derry  down,  down,  hey  derry  down. 

For  who  that  has  got  e'er  an  eye  in  his  pate, 
So  difmal  a  tale  without  tears  can  relate; 
Or  who  fuch  dire  annals  recal  to  his  mind, 
Without  burfting  in  fighs  both  before  and  behind  ? 

This  kingdom,  as  authors  impartial  have  told, 
At  firil  was  elective,  but  afterwards  fold  ; 
For  experience  will  (how  whoe'er  pleafes  to  try, 
That  kingdoms  are  venul  when  fubjecis  can  buy. 

Lovely  Peggy,  the  firft  in  fucceilion  and  name, 
Was  early  mvefted  with  honour  fupreme  ; 
But  a  bold  fon  of  Mars,  who   grew  fond  of  her 
form,  fftorm. 

Swore   himfelf  into  grace,  and  furpris'd  her  by 

Maria  fucceeded  in  honour  and  place, 
"By  laughing  and  fqueezing,  and  fong  and  grimace, 
But  her  favours,  alas,  like  her  carriage  was  free, 
Beftow'd  on  the  whole  male  creatian  but  me. 

Next  Marg'ret  the  fecond  attempted  the  chafe ; 
Though  the  fmall-pox  and  age  had  enamell'd  her 

face, 

She  fuftain'd  her  pretence_/rt«j  merite  etfans  loix, 
And  carried  her  point  by  a  Je  nef$ais  quoi. 

Theheartwhich  fotamelyacknowledg'd  herfway, 

Still  fuffer'd  in  £lence,  and  kept  her  at  bay,  t 

4  G  uij 


THE  WORKS   OP  BLACKLOCK. 


Till  old  time  had  at  lafl  fo  much  mellow'd  her 

charms, 
That  flie  dropt  with  a  breeze  in  a  liv'ryman's  arms. 

The  next  eafy  conqneft,  Belinda,  was  thine, 
Obtaiu'd  by  the  mufical  tinkle  of  coin  : 
But  (he,  more  enamour'd  of  fport  than  of  prey, 
Had  a  fifh  in  her  hook  which  (he  wanted  to  play. 

High  hopes  were  her  baits ;  but  if  truth  were 

confek'd, 

A  good  ftill  in  profpect  is  not- good  poflefs'd  ; 
For  the  fool  f>nnd  too  late  he  had  taken  a  tartar. 
Retreated  with  wounds,  and  begg'd  ftoutly  fwr 

quarter. 

JJrania  came  next,  and  with  fubtle  addrefs, 
Difcover'd  no  open  attempts  to  poflefs: 
But  when  fairly  admitted,  of  conqueft  fecure. 
She  acknowledgd'd  no  law  but  her  will  and  her 
pow'r. 

For  feven  tedious  years,  to  get  rid  of  her  chain, 
All  force  prov'd  abortive,  all  ftratagem  vain, 
Till  a  youth  with  much  fatnefs  and  gravity  bleft, 
Her  perfon  detain'd  by  a  lawful  arreft. 

To  a  reign  fo  defpotic,  though  guilthfs  of  blood, 
No  wonder  a  long  interregnum  enfuld  ;        [plain, 
For  an  afs,  though  the  patienteft  brute  of  the 
Once  jaded  and  gall'd,  will  beware  of  the  rein. 

Now  the  kingdom   ftands  doubtful  itfelf  to'  fur- 
render. 

To  Chloe  the  fprightly,  or  Celia  the  (lender : 
But  if  or.ce  it  were  out  of  this  pitiful  cafe, 
No  law  but  the  falique  henceforth  (hall  take  place*. 

SONG, 

INSCRIBED  TO  A    FRIEND. 

In  imitation  of  Sbcnftone* 

CEASI,  ceafe,  my  dear  friend,  to  explore, 

From  whence,  and  how  piercing  my  (mart : 
let  the  charms  of  the  nymph  I  adore, 

Excufe,  and  interpret  my  heart : " 
Then  how  much  I  admire,  you  (hall  prove, 

When  like  me  yon  are  taught  to  admire ; 
And  imagine  how  boundlefs  my  love, 

When  you  number  the  charms  that  infpire. 

Thou  funihine  more  dear  to  my  fight, 

To  my  life  more  eflential  than  air, 
To  my  foul  (he  is  perfect  delight, 

To  my  fenfe  all  that's  pleafmg  and  fair. 
The  fwains  who  her  beauty  behold, 

With  tranfport  applaud  ev'ry  charm, 
And  fwear  that  the  breaft  muft  be  cold, 

Which  a  beam  fo  intenle  cannot  warm. 

Ah  !  fay,  will  (he  (lightly  forego 

A  conqueft,  though  humble,  yet  fure  ? 
Will  (he  leave  a  poor  (hepherd  to  woe, 

Who  for  her  ev'ry  bjifs  would  procure  ? 
Alas !  too  prefaging  my  fears, 

Too  jealous  my  foul  of  its  blifs  ; 
Methinks  (he  already  appears, 

To  forefee,  and  elude  my  addrefs. 


tut 


«  Mofl  of  the  cbaraaeri  bere  defcribed  arireal, 


Does  my  boldnefs  offend  my  dear  maid  ? 

Is  my  fondnefs  loquacious  and  free  ? 
Are  my  vifits  too  frequently  paid ; 

Or  my  converfe  unworthy  of  thee  ? 
Yet  when  grief  was  too  big  for  my  breaft, 

And  labour'd  in  fighs  to  complain, 
Its  druggies  I  oft  have  fuppreft, 

And  filence  impos'd  on  my  pain. 

And  oft,  while,  by  tendernefs  caught, 

To  my  charmer's  retirement  I  flew, 
I  reproach'd  the  fond  abfence  of  thought, 

And  in  blufhing  confufion  withdrew. 
My  fpeech,  though  too  little  refin'd. 

Though  fimp'le  and  awkward  my  mien; 
Yet  ftill,  fhould  thoti  deign  to  be  kind, 

What  a  wonderful  change  might  be  fee». 

Ah,  Strephon  !  how  vain  thy  defire, 

Thy  numbers  and  mujic  how  vain, 
While  merit  and  fortune  confpire 

The  frriiles  of  the  nymph  to  obtain? 
Yet  ceafe  to  upbraid  the  foft  choice, 

Though  it  ne'er  fbouid  determine  for  thee, 
If  thy  heart  in  her  joy  may  rejoice, 

Unhappy  thou  never  canft  be. 

ABSENCE, 

A  SONTS, 

In  the  Manner  of  Sbcnftone. 

Ye.  rivers  fo  limpid  and  clear, 

Who  reflect  as  in  cadence  you  flow, 
All  the  beauties  that  vary  the  year, 

All  the  flow'rs  on  your  margins  that  grow  ! 
How  bleft  on  your  banks  could  I  dwell, 

Were  Melifia  the  pleafure  to  (hare, 
And  teach  your  fweet  echoes  to  tell 

With  what  fondnefs  I  doat  on  the  fair  ! 
Ye  harvefts  that  wave  on  the  breeze 

As  far  as  the  view  can  extend  ! 
Ye  mountains,  umbrageous  with  trees, 

Whofe  tops  fo  majeltic  afcend  ! 
Your  landfcape  what  joy  to  furvey, 

Were  Melifla  with  me  to  admire  ! 
Then  the  harveft  would  glitter,  how  gay, 

How  majefHc  the  mountains  afpire  1    ' 
In  penfive  regret,  whilft  I  rove, 

The  fragrance  of  flow'rs  to  inhale  ; 
Or  watch  from  the  pafture  and  grove, 

Each  mufic  that  floats  on  the  gale. 
Alas  '.  the  delufion  how  vain  ! 

Nor  odours  nor  harmony  pleafe 
A  heart  agonizing  with  pain, 

Which  tries  ev'ry  pofture  fireafe. 
If  anxious  to  flatter  my  woes, 

Or  thelangour  of  abfence  to  cheer, 
Her  breath  I  would  catch  in  the  rofe, 

Or  her  voice  in  the  nightingale  hear. 
To  cheat  my  deipair  of  its  prey, 

What  object  her  charms  can  afiume  * 
How  harfli  is  the  nightingale's  lay, 

How  infipid  the  rofe's  perfume  ? 
Ye  zephyrs  that  vifit  my  fair, 

Ye  fun- beams  around  her  that  play, 
Does  her  fympathy  dwell  on  my  care  ? 

Does  fhe  number  the  hours  of  my  ftay  2 
Firft  perifli  ambition  and  wealth, 

Firft  perifli  all  eife  that  is  dear, 


POEMS. 


Ere  one  figh  fhould  efcape  her  by  ftealth. 

Ere  my  abfence  fhould  coft  her  one  tear. 
When,  when  fhall  her  beauties  once  more 

This  defolate  bofom  furprife  ? 
Ye  fates  !  the  bleft  moments  reftore 

When  I  bafk'd  in  the  beams  of  her  eyes, 
When,  with  fweet  emulation  of  heart, 

Our  kindnefs  we  ftruggled  to  fliow  ; 
But  the  more  that  we  flrove  to  impart, 

We  felt  it  more  ardently  glow. 

PROLOGUE  TO  SIR  HARRY  GAYLOVE  *. 

MAY  one  in  confcience  credit  what  you  fay  ? 

A  Scotch  production  '.  Heaven  and  earth  !  a  play 

What  mortal  prov'd  fo  hardy  to  achieve  it. 

Repeat  your  tale  to  fuch  as  will  believe  it. 

Yet  this  can,  fure,  be  no  infidious  art, 

No  bite,  the  modern  way  of  being  fmart: 

You  tell  me  every  actor  has  his  part. 

This  night,  you  fay,  the  critics  may  abufe 

A  female  comedy,  a  virgin  mufe. 

Luxurious  fcandal '.  Jet  me  join  the  fray, 

In  its  damnation  hifs  my  breath  away  ; 

Teach  native  tafte  and  genius  to  fubfide, 

And  yield  the  palm  to  literary  pride. 

With  eafy,  flowing,  unaffected  wit, 

This  mufe,  it  feems,  afpires  to  charm  the  pit ; 

On  truth  and  nature  for  fuccefs  depends, 

And  takes  the  friends  of  virtue  for  her  friends. 

Truth,  nature,  virtue  ;  infolent  pretence  1 

Deep  fhall  fhe  feel,  and  curfe  her  weak  defence  ; 

By  fad,  yet  fure  experience  taught  ere  long, 

How  foon  a  catcal  diffipates  the  throng. 

As  ghofts  recede  before  the  morning  ray  ; 

As  tailing  fnows  in  fummer  melt  away, 

So  fvvift  thefe  thin  chimeras  wing  their  flight 

From  braying  dulnefs,  and  from  hiding  fpite. 

Yet  fome,  perhaps,  by  prepoffeffion  led, 

In  Ariftotle  and  Longinus  read, 

May  hear  her  voice  with  rapture  and  furprife, 

And  fwear  fhe  is  Thalia  in  difguife. 

Others  whom  patriot  views  with  zeal  infpire, 

May  wifh  with  praife  to  fan  her  native  fire, 

Till  wide  diffus'd  the  heav'nly  fplendor  rife, 

Immenfe  as  ocean,  lofty  as  the  fliies. 

But  you,  for  nobler  enterprifes  born, 

Who  virtue,  tafte,  and  nature  hold  in  fcorn, 

With  loud  incefiant  hifs  exert  your  rage, 

Till  vice  and  dulnefs  triumph  on  the  ftage. 

A  PANEGYRIC  ON  GREAT  BRITAIN, 
SHOULD  all  the  angry  fates  decree 
To  damn  their  wretched  progeny, 
And  for  that  purpofe  give  them  birth 
In  the  moft  curie  d  fpot  of  earth, 
Where,  in  heav'n's  eyes,  even  Sodom  might 
Appear,  as  virtue,  pure  and  bright; 
They  could  not  chool'e  a  place  more  fit  than 
The  felf-devoted  ifle  of  Britain. 
So  fung  a  bard  devour'd  with  fpleen; 
But  prejudic'd  his  fong  I  ween, 
And  flander  all  from  top  to  toe 
As  by  induction  we  fhall  mow. 

*  Written  by  Mifs  MarJIall,  author  of  "  Cla- 
"  rinda  Catbcart"  "  Alicia  Mtntague,"1  Wf.  and 
publified  at  Edinburgh  by  fubfcription  in  4^0,1772. 
The  Epilogue  was  given  by  Dr.  Downman. 


1209 


Come,  then,  ye  fouls  who  love  to  dwell 
With  Meditation  in  her  cell ; 
Or  you,  through  virtue's  walks  who  range 
With  more  delight  than  through  th'  Exchange. 
With  me  this  tablature  furvey, 
This  art's  and  nature's  coup  <T  effai. 
Then  fay,  kind  reader,  on  thy  foul, 
From  th'  Arctic  to  th'  Antarctic  pole, 
From  clime  to  clime,  from  zone  to  zone, 
Can  fuch  a  heav'n  on  earth  be  mown, 
Where  tempefls  never  lift  their  voices, 
But  every  thing  that  lives  rejoices  ? 
Nor  can  they  doubt,  that  they  exift 
Who  feel  themfelves  fupremely  bleft : 
So  free  from  error,  pain,  or  vice, 
Is  this  terreftrial  paradife. 

Perhaps,  indeed,  the  curious  eye 
May  veftiges  of  want  defcry; 
Bu,t  men,  who  would  be  good  and  wife 
Too  dearly  cannot  freedom  prize  ; 
And  what  our  fhare  of  liberty, 
Unlefs  to  ftarve,  we  may  be  free  ? 

Companion  has  been  much  addrefs'd 
For  indigence  by  wealth  opprefs'd ; 
But  hungry  maws  and  empty  purfes 
By  fools  alone  are  reckon'd  curfes: 
Wouldft  thou  for  ever  be  fecure 
From  luxury? — continue  poor. 
To  thofe  whom  various  wants  deprefs, 
In  vain  temptation  courts  accefs; 
In  rags  and  leannefs  fafe  they  lie, 
Nor  brothels  haunt,  nor  boroughs  buy  ; 
Nor  rafhly  at  'Change  Ally  play 
Their  credit,  cam,  and  fouls  away. 

Detraction  bafely  may  complain 
Of  vice's  triumph,  virtue's  bane; 
Genius  and  learning  paint  difgrac'd, 
And  mourn  the  fad  decline  of  tafte : 
But  wifdom  takes  a  different  tone, 
And  afks,  "  how  virtue  may  be  known ;" 
Untry'd,  alike  all  men  appear 
Endu'd  with  rectitude  fincere  ; 
And  to  diftinguifh  what  is  heft 
Probation  is  the  only  left. 
Hence,  if  the  charmer  we  exclude 
To  meagre  meals  and  folitude, 
Her  importunities  refufe, 
And  for  her  fake  her  friends  abufe 
Heaven  knows,  'tis  with  reluctant  heart 
We  give  her 'infamy  or  fmart; 
Confcious  her  luflre  muft  increafe, 
Proportion'd  to  her  deep  diftrefs. 

Was  ever  learning,  even  of  yore, 
Rever'd  or  cultivated  more  ? 
Did  fhe  more  wonders  e'er  difplar, 
Or  e'er  diffufe  a  brighter  day  ? 
Each  ancient  fage  a  fyftem  form'd, 
Which  with  faccefs  his  followers  ftorm'dj 
Difplay'd  its  folly  in  one  word, 
To  rear  another  as  abfurd. 
But  we,  by  ftronger  wings  fuftain'd, 
Have  nature's  penetralia  gain'd; 
And  from  our  deep  refearch  agree 
That  all  is  blank  nonentity. 

To  obfcrvation  we  appeal 
If  tafte  could  ever  more  prevail : 
What  two  legg'd  thing  can  ftrikeyour  fight 
But  arrogates  a  critic's  right  i 


laio 

How  harfh  this  period  runs,  he  cries, 
\Vith  foaming  mouth  and  glaring  eyes  ? 
This  epithet  is  without  grace ; 
That  fimile  quite  out  of  place; 
Thefe  verfes  walk  not,  but  are  driven; 
This  quantity  is  falfe,  by  heaven; 
This  fent^nce  is  involv'd  and  dark; 
Thefe  portraitures  no  colours  mark  ; 
Thefe  fentiments  abfurd  and  dull ; 
Confound  the  author's  leaden  fkulL 

Hither  Aonian  maids  repair ; 
No  theme  can  more  deferve  your  care ; 
Intoxicate  your  vot'ry's  brain 
With  liberal  draughts  from  Hippocrene; 
Tune  every  lyre,  expand  each  wing ; 
A  nobler  game  you  cannot  fpring ; 
Ranfack  your  magazine  of  rant, 
For  Britifh  commerce  next  we  chant. 

See  how  fhe  mounts  her  paper  pinions, 
And  foars  through  nature's  wide  dominions! 
Keen  to  import  from  every  where 
Whate'er  is  beauteous,  rich,  or  rare. 
Hark !  fhe  commands,  and  to  the  ikies 
A  thonknd  magic  ftrudures  rife ; 
But  if  her  fiat  fhe  reverie, 
At  once  the  mighty  domes  difperfe, 
Their  evanefcent  forms  impair, 
And  lofe  themfelves  in  gloomy  air : 
So  boys,  amus'd  with  empty  mow, 
Of  foap  and  water  bubbles  blow ;    • 
At  fiilt  a  while,  when  upward  fent, 
They  grace  the  fluid  element ; 
But  quickly  burfting  in  the  wind 
A  dirty  moifture  leave  behind. 

Metal  with  heads  of  king's  imprefs'd 
Much  hocus  pocus  once  poffefs'd ; 
Could  merit,  foul,  and  confcience  buy, 
Could  purchafe  all  beneath  the  fky. 
The  potent  queen  beheld  its  force 
Ltlabiifh'd  firm  as  nature's  courfe ; 
Nor  long  indifferent  could  furvey ; 
Refolv'd  her  puifiance  te  effay, 
With  forc'ries  that  might  puzzle  hell, 
To  paper  fhe  transferr'd  the  fpell. 
Swift  as  Cumzan  Sibyl's  lay 
Th'  emphatic  billets  wing'd  their  way ; 
Each  man  indulg'd  the  fond  opinion, 
That  he  alone  was  fortune's  minion ; 
Till  from  experience  fad  and  late, 
He  felt,  and  curs'd  his  alter'd  ftate : 
Thus,  if  Dan  Gay  has  told  us  true, 
The  wight  who  kept  the  ghoft  in  view*, 
Of  treafure  dream'd,  but  waking  found 
What,  fmell'd,  the  nicer  fenfe  would  wound. 

Of  credit  crack'd  and  failing  trade 
A  mighty  pother  has  been  made : 
The  whining  crowd  infult  their  betters, 
And  bankrupts  call  infolvent  debtors. 
But  fay,  what  mortal  could  refufe 
His  all  in  fuch  a  way  to  lofe  ? 
In  thin  attire  and  fimple  fare 
You  bid  adieu  to  anxious  care ;     . 
Wealth,  only  wealth,  in  terror  pines ; 
Broods  o'er  her  coffers  and  her  mines; 

«  Set  the  rifUe  tale  from  -wbitb  ibis  alhifien  is  drttra, 
la  Gby*  foemi,  vel.  i.f.  jj. 


THE  WORKS  OF  BLACKLOCK. 


The  beggar,  from  fuch  panic  free, 
Is  bleft  in  hopelefs  poverty. 

Hail,  Anglia !  thrice  and  four  times  haiH 
Calm  be  thy  feas  and  fair  thy  gale, 
That  wafts,  replete  with  various  ftorc, 
Thy  floating  domes  from  more  to  more, 
Till  they,  for  trifles  well  refign'd  *, 
Fraught  with  the  fpwils  of  human  kind, 
At  length  their  native  coaft  regain, 
And  mock  the  tumults  of  the  main ; 
The  main  by  nature  form'd  like  thec 
To  bellow  Wilkes  and  liberty  ? 

But  who  in  numbers  moft  fublirne 
Thy  glory's  arduous  height  can  climb  ? 
What  fire,  what  energy  of  fpeech 
Thy  flaming  patriot  zeal  can  reach  ? 
The  patriot  fons  of  Greece  and  Rome 
Shall  in  oblivion's  deepeft  gloom 
Henceforth  retire,  with  grief  and  fhame^ 
Eclips'd  by  thy  fuperior  fame. 
Who  can  thy  glorious  Wilkes  defcribc, 
Who  never  gave  nor  took  a  bribe, 
For  thee  is  cruel,  falfe,  and  lewd, 
And  damns  his  foul  for  public  good ! 
Or  who  thy  fapienfrjuuius  paint, 
From  heav'n  to  teach  our  rulers  fent! 
Thy  Junius,  whofe  prolific  pate 
Teems  with  philofophy  of  ftate. 

Through  ail  his  road  the  circling  fun. 
Though  pofling  fince  the  world  begun, 
Could  ne'er  behold  fo  bleft  a  realm, 
Such  fkilful  pilots  at  its  helm  ; 
Premiers  whofe  only  private  good 
Is  public  intereft  well  purfu'd  ; 
Courtiers  to  each  parole  fo  juft, 
Such  objefts  of  implicit  truft ; 
Voters,  whofe  honour  is  fo  nice, 
Not  worlds  of  gems  could  pay  their  price  ; 
And  reprefentatives  fo  choice, 
Heav'n's  blifs  can  ne'er  fuborn  their  voice. 

Thy  gen'rous  fpirit  ftill  difdains 
Illiberal  prepoffemon's  chains, 
Uncircumfcrib'd  by  times  or  places. 
The  fpacious  univerfe  embraces : 
This  let  thy  fifter  realm  declare, 
Inur'd  thy  love,  thy  praife,  to  fhare ; 
With  local  jealoufy  untainted, 
Hew  are  her  wants  by  thee  prevented  I 
Her  fons,  as  of  one  common  nation, 
Admitted  to  participation 
Of  all  emoluments  and  honours  ; 
Yet  how  ungrateful  to  their  donors ! 

Let  thofe  in  equal  ftrains,  who  can. 
Delineate  thy  domeftic  plan  : 
What  fcorn  of  all  difhoneft  gains, 
Even  in  thy  meaneft  peafant  reigns  ? 
With  what  defire,  what  tafte  refin'd 
Each  yeoman  cultivates  his  mind  ? 
When  to  thy  hofpitable  dome, 
As  to  their  known,  their  native  home, 
Thy  neighbours  and  thy  friends  repair, 
Feftivity  and  mirth  to  fhare  ; 
Reafon  fedate,  experience  hoar, 
And  peace  protect  the  facred  door; 

*  Tie  contemptible  trinkets,  exilanged  in  trade  icitb 
barbarous  nations,  for  fibjlanttcl  and  'valuable  iommedi-, 
ties,  art  too  vitU  JtntnvH  to  in  bere  recapitulated* 


POEM    S. 


1:11 


While  abftincnee  with  mild  control 
Supplies  thy  board  and  fills  thy  howl. 
From  aqueous  draughts  and  fober  cheer 
Eternal  fmiles  thy  features  wear : 
Rich  wines  and  fapid  viands  feed 
The  leper  and  the  fuicide. 
Far  diftant  from  thy  tranquil  fhore 
Thou  hear'ft  the  hydra  fadlion  roar, 
While  firm  accord  within  thy  ftate$ 
Each  council  forma  and  regulates. 

If,  life's  dull  uniform  to  fhun, 
Thy  youths  a  courfe  more  vary'd  run ; 
In  hopes  to  thrive  by  art's  alchymic, 
Thy  brave  diforders  too  we  mimic  ; 
With  willing  heart,  though  awkward  grace, 
Thy  maxims  and  thy  modes  embrace. 
We  call  for  bills  we  cannot  pay  ; 
Lofe  wealth  we  ne'er  poffefs'd  at  play ; 
As  peacock's  proud,  as  church-rats  poor, 
Yet  bucks  and  bloods  in  miniature  : 
Thus,  in  his  car,  the  pageant  god  * 
Along  the  brazen  convex  rode, 
Cut  in  mock  thunder  many  a  caper, 
And  brandifh'd  high  the  flaming  taper; 
Till  crufh'd  by  real  bolts  he  fell, 
The  hifs  and  ridicule  of  hell. 

Let  pedagogues  affert,  that  knowledge 
Frequents  alone  the  dufty  college, 
As  if  reclufe,  the  heav'nly  fair, 
In  cobwebs,  dirt,  and  putrid  air, 
Were  pleas'd  to  glean,  from  mufty  pages, 
The  refufe  of  pedantic  ages, 
Collecting  with  inceflant  pains 
The  feculence  of  ftupid  brains. 
In  its  pretended  feminary 
We  fcorn  to  hunt  the  noble  quarry, 
And  nature's  theatre  explore,    . 
The  only  fpurce  of  genuine  lore. 
The  dull  refults  of  time  and  thought 
May  puzzle  idiots,  as  they  ought ; 
From  active  life  experience  flows, 
And  with  experience  wifdom  grows ; 
Her  we  purfue,  with  fails  unfurl'd, 
Through  htr  academy,  the  world. 

Our  laws  fo  {Irict,  fo  multifarious, 
Juftice  can  never  be  precarious ; 
Ikfules,  fhould  foimer  flatutes  fail, 
We  ftill  ena<ft,  and  ne'er  repealf. 
That  thefe  adminiiler'd  may  be 
With  m»ft  religious  equity, 
Deceit  and  rapine  to  •withftand, 
The  fons  of  Themis  fwarm  the  land.  * 

It  has  indeed  been  urg'd  by  fpite, 
When  two  heroic  mailiffs  tight, 
To  both  the  combatants  unknown, 
A  third  may  come  and  fnatch  the  bone ; 

*  This  mythological  catajlrophe  is  elegantly  defcribcd 
in  Virgil's  JEncid,  buck  vi.  wr.  585. 

f  Ai  an  early  period  of  the  Roman  empire,  multiplicity 
cf  laivs  ttas  complained  of  as  an  intolerable  grievance. 
The  laivs  itf  every  free  jlate  mitjl  certainly  be  the  -voice 
of  its  reprtfcntdt'fjts  ;  but  if  tlefe  are  net  from  time  to 
time  abridged,  they  muftfivell  to  an  extent  fo  enormous, 
that  thejludy  ivill  became  incomprebenfible  even  to  law 
yers  tbsmfelvei ;  Jlatutes  contrnd:&lory  to  each  other  nmy 
be  enaclid ;  and  .be  lieges  can  f el. .am  or  never  aft  -uiitb 
ferity,  !fjl  igiwrantly  tbcyjbould  incur  their  penalties. 


When  affluence  property  confounds, 
And  men  forget  its  proper  bounds, 
Redundancies  with  (kill  refign'd 
Secure  the  fortunes  left  behind. 

How  much  her  power  is  here  confefs'd. 
Let  modell  excellence  attefl, 
When  from  the  namelefs  crowd  feledled 
She  fliines  admir'd,  carefs'd,  refpe&ed; 
While  fools  and  knaves,  depriv'd  of  fame, 
Though  wealth  and  int'reft  urge  their  claim, 
No  more  for  eminence  contend, 
But  to  their  native  rank  defcend. 

Sweet  Hcav'n !  what  kind  attachments  here 
Neighbours,  relations,  friends,  endear  1 
What  tender  intercourfe  they  hold  i 
With  love  that  never  waxes  oold  ! 
So  bleft,  fo  perfect  is  their  unity, 
(Since  none  from  pain  can  boaft  immunity) 
That  if  one  heart  or  head  but  ache, 
The  reft  in  fympathy  partake  ; 
Nor  on  his  woe  themfelves  obtrude, 
But  mourn  the  fad  viciflitude  ; 
Or  that  againfl  fuch  mifadventure 
Their  other  friends  may  caveats  enter, 
In  Chriftian  charity  they  tell 
By  what  mifconducl:  it  befel ; 
Yet,  though  by  manners  interdicted. 
They  ceafe  to  vifit  th'  afflidted, 
Still  each  requeit  they  freely  grant, 
Except  the  boon  their  fuppliants  want ; 
For  fuch  demands  fhould  they  provide, 
Patience  in  life  could  ne'er  be  try'd. 

Our  maids  and  matrons,  chafte  and  pure, 
Not  ev'n  the  fliade  of  man  endure, 
But  think  the  highelt  heav'n's  unclean, 
If  ftain'd  with  creatures  mafculine : 
Their  groffeft  thoughts,  were  they  exprefs'd  all. 
Might  well  become  a  dying  veflal. 
Their  very  names  a  charm  might  be 
To  cure  the  rage  of  jealoufy. 
Behold  with  wond«.r  and  furprife, 
How  quick  through  virtue's  fcalc  they  rife, 
Nor  with  a  flow  progreflive  motion, 
By  all  the  -ardour  of  devotion  ! 
Yet.oflentation  to  avoid, 
What  bleft  expedients  are  employ'd ! 
N'o  worth  in  native  guife  dii'play'd, 
But  exercis'd  in  mafquerade; 
Not  the  monaflic  veil  fo  pious, 
Thiough  which  ev'n  envy  cannot  fpy  us; 
And  whilft  at  large  our  virtues  play, 
Behind  the  fliade  our  perfons  flay. 

bay  confcience !  if  not  quite  extinct, 
While  reafon,  fenfe,  and  int'refl  wink'd; 
Say,  confcience  !  for  thou  truly  know'fl, 
How  much  religion  we  can  boaft  : 
Enough  to  point  the  Deift's  jeers; 
Enough  to  let  us  by  the  ears; 
Enough  a  decent  cloak  to  fafhion 
For  fraud  or  feuds  to  put  frelh  on  ; 
Enough  to  manage  guilelefs  hearts 
By  prieftcraft's  proftituted  arts ; 
Enough  the  mobile  to  enrage 
Againft  the  fin  of  patronage; 
Enough  for  fools  or  knaves  to  fwear  by, 
And  give  its  fanction  to  a  mere  lie. 
To  crowd  a  potentate's  levee 
With  eodkfs  importunity, 


UI* 

Is  deem'd  impertinent  and  rude  : 
Why  then  on  Heav'n's  repoie  intrude  ? 
For  this  we  feldom  go  to  prayers, 
But  leave  to  gods  their  own  affairs ; 
At  church  improvement  ne'er  purfue ; 
The  pulpit  yields  us  nothing  new ; 
And  inftitutions,  well  we  know, 
By  frequent  ufc  infipid  grow. 
To  us  the  tavern  or  the  flews 
Afford  more  edifying  views ; 
For  there,  without,  and  eke  within, 
Appears  the  turpitude  of  fin. 

Thus,  lavifh  in  my  country's  praife, 
The  pleafing  talk  itfelf  repays. 
Whate'er  for  preference  appeals, 
Natalc  Selum  ftill  prevails; 
Still  to  my  heart  my  country  whifpers, 
(Not  like  our  modern  female  lifpers, 
But  with  a  voice  more  fweet  than  fong) 
u  O  !  love  me  much,  and  love  me  long ;" 
Deep  mingling  with  the  purple  tide, 
Through  all  my  veins  her  accents  glide, 
For  this  polarity  of  mind, 
Would  fhe  be  grateful,  juft,  or  kind, 
From  Church  or  State  no  perquifite 
1  afk  my  wifhes  to  complete. 
Let  penfions,  pofts,  douceurs  accrue 
To  thofe  whofe  fervice  makes  them  dne : 
J  only  from  her  bounty  crave 
A  decent  fate,  and  peaceful  grave. 

THE  GRAHAM: 

AN    HEROIC    BALLAD, 

In  Four  Cantos. 
CANTO  I. 

Iy  former  days,  when  Scotia  hurl'd 
Againft  her  fitter  realm  the  fpear, 
When  on  her  frontiers  war  unfurl'd 
His  Woody  flag  from  year  to  year; 
When  wonder  filPd  th'  attentive  world 
Her  glorious  conflicts  charm'd  to  hear, 
By  native  virtue  fav'd  from  thrall, 
Whilft  wealth  and  power  confpir'd  her  fall, 

Of  noble  foul  and  lineage  high, 
Amongft  her  chiefs  was  Graham  rever'd  : 
But  wan  his1  cheek,  and  dim  his  eye ; 
Keen  fmart  he  prov'd,  yet  keener  fear'd  : 
No  Howard  echoed  figh  for  figh, 
No  plighted  maid  his  bofom  cheer'd  : 
His  love,  his  confidence  abus'd 
He  deena'd,  and  thus  his  foul  effus'd. 

"  Rife,  winds  of  heav'n,  to  temped  rife  ; 
"Flames  flafli,  and  cataracts  defcend  ! — 
No  dorms  convulfing  earth  and  fides, 
Like  thofe  which  now  my  bofom  rend  : 
Should  chaos  order's  reign  furprife, 
And  heaven,  and  earth,  and  ocean  blend, 
No  anarchy  could  vex  the  void, 
Like  facred  peace  of  mind  deftroy'd. 

Sweet  peace  of  mind  !  feraphic  gueft  ! 
How  long  thy  abfence  (hall  I  mourn  > 
From  yon  bright  manfions  of  the  bleft 
With  all  thy  placid  train  return : 


THE  WORKS   OF   BLACKLO  CK. 

For  hell  is  center'd  in  my  breaft, 
There  ftill  itshotteft  fervours  burn. 
No  more,  ye  tortur'd  ghofts,  repine, 
Since  lefs  acute  your  pains  than  mine. 


Of  all  the  ills  that  rage  fo  rife, 
(And  ha  !  from  ills  what  ftate  is  free?) 
Of  all  the  plagues  that  prey  on  life, 
God's  heavieft  curfe  is  jealoufy  ; 
Of  love  and  hate  eternal  ftrife  : 
When  fliall  it  ceafe  to  torture  me  ? 
Oh  !  wjhen  mall  ftreams  of  blood  atone 
For  Scotia's  wrongs  and  for  my  own  ? 

Juft  God  !  that  he,  to  whom  my  heart, 
Acceffible  as  light  and  air, 
Was  fond  its  wifhes  to  impart,. 
With  whom  its  inmoft  thoughts  to  (hare, 
Thefe  confines  falfely  fliould  defert, 
Though  prefcient  of  his  friend's  defpair ; 
Urifeen  defert,  and  bafely  fteal 
What,  loft  to  madnefs  I  muft  feel  1** 

Thus  Graham,  inexorably  bent 

His  rival  or  himfelf  to  flay, 

Then  fhap'd  his  cowrie  with  fell  intent 

To  where  Northumbria's  warriors  lay ; 

Nor  night  his  journey  could  prevent, 

Nor  danger  intercept  his  way  ; 

He  reck'd  not  how  he  fped,  nor  where: 

They  dread  no  ruin  who  defpair. 

Singly  (for  fuch  was  his  command) 
He  meant  to  meet  his  gallant  foe  ; 
But  chofen  men,  a  worthy  band, 
Who  vow'd  to  fhare  his  weal  or  woe, 
When  he  his  hardy  purpofe  plann'd 
Th'  important  fecret  chanc'd  to  know  £ 
Remotely  thefe  his  fteps  purfue, 
Unfeen,  yet  keep  him  (till  in  view. 

Determin'd  on  revenge  or  death, 
And  guided  by  a  dubious  ray, 
Through  many  a  rough  and  winding  path 
Th'  intrepid  hero  held  his  way  ; 
Upbraiding  much  his  eafy  faith. 
Which  arts  fo  flimfey  could  betray ; 
At  length  he  reach'd  the  wide  campaign 
Where  fix'd  Northumbria's  tents  remain. 

And  now  the  genial  hours  prepare 
To  yoke  Aurora's  rofy  teem  ; 
Her  blulhes  ting'd  through  humid  air 
The  rifing  hill  and  cryftal  dream ; 
While  with  increafing  light  more  fair. 
More  fweet  the  opening  profpect  feem  ; 
But  fbnls  involv'd  in  forrow'r  gloom 
No  landfcapes  charm,  no  rays  illume.    . 

When  now  the  hoftile  camp  he  fpy'd, 
In  filence  folemn  and  profound ; 
"  Here,  here  the  mifcreant  refts  (he  cry'd) 
Who  gave  my  peace  its  mortal  wound ; 
A  while  the  wretch  who  heav'n  defy'd, 
May  with  fuccefs  in  guilt  be  crown'd  ; 
Yet  crimes  like  thefe  though  long  fecure, 
At  laft  for  vengeance  prove  mature.'' 

No  emblematic  figns  pourtray'd 
Within  its  orb  his  buckler  bore ; 


POEMS. 


Nor  the»  the  variegated  plaid 
Around  his  manly  theft  he  wore  ; 
His  name,  his  form,  no  mark  betray  M» 
Which  jealous  caution  might  explore: 
Thus  through  the  (trong  and  watchiul  guard 
He  pab'd  unquellion'd,  undebarr'd. 

"  By  all  the  glories  of  my  race 

'Tis  Graham  himfelf '.  (young  Howard  faid)  ; 

He  comes  to  brave  me  face  to  face, 

He  comes  to  claim  the  refcu'd  maid  ; 

So  may  my  foul  in  heaven  find  grace 

When  moll  flie  needs  her  powerful  aid, 

As  I  his  challenge  fhall  receive, 

Since  one  or  both  muft  feaft  the  grave. 

And  thou  by  early  fate  remov'd 
From  all  that  renders  being  dear, 
Oh  (till  remember'd,  (till  belov'd, 
My  vow,  fraternal  fpirit,  hear  ! 
That  vengeance,  which  fo  tardy  prov'd, 
Scotia  at  laft  fhall  learn  to  fear, 
Shall  expiate  from  unnumber'd-  veins 
A  brother's  blood,  a  captive's  chains." 

He  fnatch'd  his  fword,  he  pois'd  his  fhield, 
He  ifiu'd  to  confront  the  foe, 
As  bickering  flames  involve  a  field 
Where  arid  heath  and  ftubble  grow  ! 
His  breaft,  with  native  courage  lleel'd, 
On  fear  could  ne'er  one  thought  beftow  : 
Yet  e'er  his  iteps  could  far  proceed, 
The  Scot  advanc'd  and  check'd  his  fpeed. 

"  Blufh,  traitor,  blufh  (enrag'd  he  faid), 

If  ftill  fuiceptible  of  fliame, 

If  benefits  with  wrongs  repaid 

From  heav'n  and  earth  juft  vengeance  claim  : 

But  fools  and  cowards  may  upbraid, 

In  fpeeches  tierce,  in  aclion  tame  ; 

The  righteous  Pow'r  that  rules  on  high 

And  arms  alone  our  caufc  can  try." 

He  ceasvd  ;  and  Howard  thus  reply'd : 
"  Impetuous  boy,  thy  rage  reftraiu  1 
Ere  now  thy  force  I  had  defy'd, 
But  other  talks  my  arm  detain : 
For  know,  to  mortify  thy  pride, 
Thou  ow'it  thy  life  to  my  diidain  ; 
Thy  country  firft  I  meant  to  quell, 
Then  deftin'd  thee  for  death  and  hell. 

How  well  it  fuits  the  heart  of  Graham 
To  doubt  his  friend,  though  known  fincere  ! 
That  heart  which  bafe  defigns  inflame, 
Such  bafe  deligns  may  juftly  fear  : 
From  all  the  various  mouths  of  fame 
Thy  vile  fufpicions  reach  my  ear. 
Now  if  unfcourg'd  thy  crime  remains. 
No  more  eternal  juftice  reigns. 

Traitor,  my  foul  retorts  with  fcorn 
On  thy  opprobrious  clans  and  thee. 
The  nymph  thou  leek'ft  I  found  forlorn, 
From  bale  attempts  I  fet  her  free  ; 
When  hence  by  brutal  ruffians  borne, 
For  aid  flie  call'd  on  Heav'n  and  me. 
Where  then  was  that  vindictive  arm 
Portending  now  fuch  mortal  harm  : 


|  In  vain  that  rage  which  bends  thy  brow, 
Thy  boafts,  thy  menaces  are  vainj 
By  Heav'n's  omnipotence  I  vow, 
Nor  perjury  my  foul  fhall  ftain ; 
Not  all  thy  country's  force,  nor  thou; 
The  beauteous  capture  mall  regain  : 
Mine  now  flie  is,  and  mine  (hall  be, 
Indignant  Scot,  in  ipite  of  thee. 

But  whilft  in  Heav'n's  unerring  fcale 

Our  quivering  deftinies  appear, 

And  which  fhall  fall,  and  which  prevail, 

By  no  decilion  yet  feems  clear; 

I  could  unfold  a  wond'rous  tale, 

Whofe  Hghteft  word  demands  thy  ear : — 

But  hafte  we  hence  where  friends  nor  foes 

Can  in  our  quarrel  interpofe." 

"  Damn'd  fubterfuge  to  make  me  fwerve  ! 
(Thus  Graham  refum'd  with  fervid  ire)  : 
Thefe  arts  for  weaker  dupes  referve, 
They  raife  my  indignation  higher : 
When  wretches,  who  in  dungeons  ftarve, 
Nor  light,  nor  air,  nor  food  defire, 
Then  may  my  heart  its  wrath  fufpend 
Till  thy  infidious  tale  fliall  end." 

"  Me  brandft  thou  with  evafive  fright, 
(Cry'd  Howard  with  protended  fteel)  ; 
Who  for  thy  fury  or  thy  might 
Supreme  contempt  alone  can  feel '. 
Which  heart  mall  now  decline  the  fight, 
Which  beats  with  fears  it  would  conceal, 
Th*  impending  inftant  fhali  difplay  ; 
Hark :  hov'ring  ravens  croak  for  prey." 

Now  front  to  front  the  champions  flood, 
And  hew'd  and  lafli'd,  and  thunder'd  blows; 
Whillt  through  th'  adjacent  hills  and  wood, 
The  propagated  clangour  rofe  i 
Anna,  with  eyes  in  tears  bedew'd, 
Had  heard  them  talk,  and  leen  them  clofe  ; 
With  pallid  cheek,  and  trembling  frame, 
Between  the  combatants  flie  came. 

"  For  Heav'n's  fweet  fake,  ere  you  engage, 
Attend  to  love's,  to  friendfhip's  call  1 
If  blood  alone  can  quench  your  «age, 
Mine,  mine  I  offer,  take  it  all. 
Could  I  have  form'd  the  fad  prefage, 
That  one  of  two  fo  dear  Ihould  fall, 
Ere  I  this  curled  hour  furvey'd, 
To  fate  that  tribute  I  had  paid-. 

Oh  Graham  '.   in  whom  for  ever  dwells 
Concenter'd  all  my  foul's  delight, 
What  frenzy  now  thy  mind  impels 
To  urge  this  inauspicious  tight? 
That  fury  which  thy  bofom  fwells, 
May  in  his  blood  its  conqueft  write ; 
But  fay,  is  this  his  nobleft  meed 
Wha  refcued  me,  by  Graham  to  bleed  i 

While  fall  of  thee  I  lonely  ftray'd, 
With  tears  and  anxious  vigils  fpent, 
To  breathe  in  fome  fequefter'd  lhade 
The  grief  with  which  my  heart  was  rent, 
Viliians,  who  lay  in  ambufcade, 
And  watcli'd  and  wifli'd  for  this  event, 


1314 

My  perfon  feiz'd,  and  bore  away, 

To  lawlcfs  force  a  feeble  prey. 


In  vain  my  eyes  with  forrow  ftream'd. 
In  vain  my  threats,  in  vain  my  pray'r, 
In  vain  to  heav'n  and  earth  I  fcream'd, 
And  beat  my  breaft,  and  tore  my  hair ; 
But  when  each  hope  extinct  I  deem'd, 
Extinct  in  ruin  and  defpair, 
This  Howard  like  an  angel  came, 
And  fav'd  at  once  my  life  and  fame. 

Nor  thou,  as  heav'n  fupremely  good, 
Refufe  my  plaints  thy  gentle  ear  : 
Should  Graham  beneath  thy  hand  fubdu'd 
Expire  by  deftiny  fevere, 
Say,  can  that  hand  in  blood  embru'd, 
In  Graham's  warm  blood,  to  me  be  dear  ? 
Or  can  the  life  of  him  I  love 
To  me  a  grateful  offering  prove? 

Now  hear  my  voice,  ye  chieftans,  hear , 
Eternal  fate  is  in  the  found ; 
Let  each  thefe  hated  broils  forbear, 
In  leagues  of  holy  friendfhip  bound : 
Should  either  lift  the  hoftile  fpear, 
And  ftretch  his  rival  on  the  ground, 
Firft  heav'n  and  hell  ihall  be  ally'd 
Ere  I  became  the  victor's  bride." 

CANTO  II. 

SHE  ended :  and  her  varying  charms 
A  thoufand  agitations  {how ; 
When  all  at  once  they  heard  alarms 
As  from  a  fierce  advancing  foe  : 
To  arms  '.  the  camp  refounds,  to  arms  ! 
Wide  and  more  wide  the  tumults  grow ; 
From  heart  to  heart  contagion  flies, 
And  all  in  wild  diforder  rife. 

What  felt  the  valiant  heart  of  Graham 
When  he  defcry'd  the  mad'ning  throng? 
Conflicting  paflions  fliook  his  frame ; 
He  knew  th'  opponent  army  ftrong. 
Rapid  as  heaven's  explofive  flame, 
To  ftop  his  friends,  he  ftepp'd  along ; 
Whilft  rufliing  on,  with  rapid  view, 
He  recogniz'd  his  faithful  few. 

"  What  mean  my  foldiers  ?  (loud  he  cry'd) 
Behold  your  leader  fate  reftor'd. 
Would  heav'n  !  in  anguifti  I  had  died, 
Ere  confcious  of  this  deed  abhorr'd  1 
Thus  unprovok'd,  unfanctify'd, 
What  right  had  you  to  draw  the  fword  ? 
Rath  men  '.  was  expiation  due 
For  private  wrongs  to  me  or  you  ?" 

Thus  he  rebuk'd  though  in  defpair. 

Their  gallant  ardour  to  reftrain ; 

Loft  in  th'  expanie  of  turbid  air 

Expoftulation  prov'd  in  vain  ; 

Dilcord  and  havoc  every  where 

In  luxury  of  triumph  reign  ; 

The  groan  of  death,  th'  exulting  roar, 

The  fuppliant  Ihrieks,  heav'n's  concave  tore. 

A  ftorm  of  lances  now  they  threw, 
Whiia  on  each  point  deftruftiou  flies  j 


THE  WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK, 

And  ftarting  from  th'  elafHc  yew* 

A  cloud  of  ihafts  obfcure  the  ikies.— 

"  Ye  hofts  of  heav'n,  what  blafts  my  viewt 

(With  voice  exerted,  Howard  cries)  : 

What  laurels  can  thefe  daftards  gain, 

When  handfuls  fall  by  myriads  flain  ? 


Hence,  execrable  cowards,  hence! 
Shrink  to  your  holes,  and  tremble  there  ! 
Whofe  blood  is  fpilt  without  expence, 
Whom  mercy  hardly  deigns  to  fpare. 
This  band  (fo  mighty,  fo  immenfe)  ! 
To  hungry  dogs  and  fowls  of  air, 
My  troop  alone  fhall  quickly  throw  : 
Hear  Percy's  voice  in  mine,  and  go." 

This  Elliot  heard,  for  war  renown'd, 

la  danger's  front  feverely  try'd  : 

He  grafp'd  his  fword,  he  groan'd  profound, 

Then  with  farcaftic  fmile  reply'd : 

"  Yes,  if  your  words  like  darts  could  wound, 

If  foes  were  vanquifh'd  when  defcry'd, 

Trophies  from  hence  you  might  extortj 

Like  thofe  obtain'd  at  Agiticonrt. 

Such  trophies  let  your  annals  boaft, 
Their  truth  I  mean  not  to  refute ; 
Yet  were  thofe  precious  archives  loft, 
Our  juniors  might  the  facts  difpute, 
Unlefs  your  formidable  hoft 
More  recent  wonders  execute : 
Yet  Edward  play'd  a  fafer  game; 
And  filch'd  a  bloodlefs  diadem." 

He  fpake  :  and  rear'd  his  fhining  blade. 
With  mortal  prowefs  to  defcend ; 
Nor  vainly  had  his  might  eflay'd, 
In  death  the  hero  to  extend  ; 
But  by  the  fliiv'ring  fteel  betray'd, 
His  ftroke  abortive  mifs'd  its  end; 
Yet  ftunn'd  and  giddy  Howard  reel'd, 
And  thund'ring  prefs'd  the  fanguine  field* 

Him,  ftaggering,  Elliot  thus  addrefs'd : 
"  If  yet  unhurt  thy  life  remains. 
If  yet  of  wonted  ftrength  poffefs'd, 
Nor  wound  thy  vital  current  drains, 
(Advantage  o'er  a  foe  deprefs'd, 
Though  in  her  power,  my  foul  difdains) 
Arife,  thy  fcatter'd  arms  refume, 
Nor  proftrate  ihare  a  vulgar  doom." 

He  faid  ;  and  with  extended  hand, 
At  once  from  earth  the  chieftan  rears, 
Though  circled  by  a  furious  band 
Of  foes,  with  quivers  arm'd  and  fpears, 
Then  fear  firft  Howard's  foul  unmann'd, 
For  Elliot's  life ;  nor  vain  his  fears ; 
A'n  arrow  from  an  unknown  bow, 
Struck  deep,  and  laid  the  hero  low. 

Long  torpid  oV r  the  bleeding  corfe, 
Howard  in  filent  horror  hung ; 
Depriv'd  of  fenfe,  depriv'd  of  force, 
And  all  his  foul  with  anguifh  wjung  : 
Not  with  more  exquifite  remorfe 
Did  guilt  e'er  feel  her  bofom  ftung, 
Than  Howard  felt  intenfe  regret,  ' 
Though  guiltlefs  of  t,Ue  warrior's  fate* 


P    O    E 


As  fires  in  Come  volcano  pent, 
That  on  its  melting  inwards  prey, 
With  ftruggling  rage  explore  a  vent, 
And  burft  refiftlefs  into  day  ; 
So  now,  impatient  of  reftraint, 
In  tears  his  anguifh  found  its  way  : 
By  grief  his  foul  to  rnadnefs  driv'n, 
Thus  wild  expoftuiates  with  heav'n : 

"  Ye  powers  that  o'er  this  orb  prefide  ! 
Muft  worth  thus  perifli  premature  ? 
Should  chance  the  helm  of  nature  guide, 
What  greater  ills  could  man  endure  ? 
His  hoary  fire,  his  blooming  bride, 
His  orphan  babes,  in  hope  iecure, 
Shall  view  him  cold  and  lifelefs  earth, 
Then  curfe  the  period  of  their  birth. 

Oft  of  a  feer  the  Scots  have  told, 
Before  whofe  heav'n-directed  eyes 
Remote  events  of  things,  enroll'd 
By  deftiny,  fucceflive  rife  ; 
Why  could  not  he  this  ftroke  behold, 
Which  now  to  heav'n  for  pity  cries? 
But  victims  to  the  future  blind, 
We  muft  purfue  the  courfe  aflign'd. 

Detefted  inftrument  of  ill. 
Into  thy  flieath,  my  fword,  return ! 
From  nature  tears  enough  diftil, 
Condemn'd  inherent  woes  to  mourn. 
O  thou  !  whofe  dear  remains  muft  fill, 
Inftead  of  mine,  th'  untimely  urn, 
Would  I  had  felt  the  fad  decree, 
And  yielded  up  my  foul  for  thee  ! 

Yet  bear,  my  foldiers,  bear  him  hence, 
And  whilft  his  vital  warmth  remains, 
Aid  nature,  ftruggling  in  fufpenfe, 
And  flop  th'  effufion  of  his  veins  ; 
Cherifh  returning  life  and  fenfe  ; 
For  if  the  chief  his  ftrength  regains, 
Honour  and  wealth  on  him  (hail  wait, 
Whofe  hand  retards  th'  approach  of  fate." 

/S  when  two  adverfe  blafts  defcend 
To  ftrive  for  empire  o'er  the  main, 
This  way,  and  that,  the  furge  they  bend, 
While  both  their  native  force  retain  ; 
Thus  arms  to  arms  oppos'd  contend 
•For  conquett  on  th'  empurpled  plain  ; 
Yet  unfatigu'd  with  wounds  and  toil, 
Nor  thefe  advance,  nor  thofe  recoil. 

Still  ftruggling  with  fuperior  pow'rs, 
The  hardy  Scots  maintain  their  ground, 
Though  fate  its  pregnant  quiver  Ihow'rs, 
And  death  in  carnage  wantons  round.-— 
While  on  his  forehead  vengeance  lowrs, 
Forth  Percy  iilues  with  a  bound  ; 
His  wrathful  eyes  perdition  dart, 
And  thus  he  pours  his  pregnant  heart : 

"  God's  fplendour  !   (hall  a  lawlefs  crew 
Of  vagrant  thieves  your  mifhr  rellrain  ? 
Shall  hands  fo  feeble,  troops  fo  few, 
Rejel  this  vaft,  this  martial  train  ? 
Or  do  my  fenfes  tell  me  true, 
Or  have  enchantments  turn'd  my  brain  i 
Better  in  deuth  my  eyes  were  teal'd, 
Than  lee  ray  country's  ipirit  yicid. 


M    S. 

But  you,  oh  England's  fpurions  race  ! 
in  other  feats  diftinguiih'd  fliine  : 
The  trembling  arm  and  lilied  face 
For  other  fights  their  ftars  defign. 
Vile  offspring  !  deftin'd  to  difgrace 
Your  native  foil,  your  generous  line  '. 
To  heav'n  and  earth,  fay,  (hall  I  teil, 
In  what  achievements  you  excel  ? 

To  gorge  the  feaft,  to  drain  the  bowl, 

To  loiter  near  the  blazing  fire; 

To  wafte  the  night  without  controul, 

Indulging  grofs  or  lewd  clefire  : 

For  thefe,  though  doom'd  in  flames  to  howl, 

To  joys  no  nobler  you  afpire  ; 

Thefe  are  your  fov'reign  blifs  alone, 

The  heav'n  you  feek,  the  god  you  own. 

But  if  unchaftis'd  hence  you  fly, 
Though  dogg'd  with  penitence  and  fliame, 
The  death  of  cowards  let  me  die, 
And  flander  blaft  my  fporlefs  fame. 
Oh  curfe,  that  form  fhouid  men  belie, 
In  vifage,  not  in  heart  the  fame  '. 
Shall  honour,  life,  and  foul  at  ftake, 
No  fpark  of  Englim  valour  wake  ?'* 

With  fpirit  from  their  chief  inhal'd 
Whilft  all  their  might  his  troopr  exert, 
A  piercing  fliriek  their  ears  aflail'd, 
Sad  emphafis  of  female  fmart. 
At  this  the  foul  of  Howard  fail'd  ; 
Cold  horror  thrill'd  his  boding  heart, 
When  lo  !  his  fwimming  eyes  explore 
Their  neareft  object  ftain'd  with  gore  : 

Her  refcue  nobly  Graham  effay'd, 

And  interpos'd  a  mafly  fhield  : 

But  impotent  his  (ingle  aid , 

His  hands  employ'd,  no  fword  could  wielJ; 

Nor  could  his  utmoft  force  pervade, 

Th'  embattel'd  ranks  that  throng'd  the  fieM; 

This,  torn  with  anguifh,  Howard  faw, 

Nor  could  remain,  nor  durft  withdraw. 

"  Oh  lift,  for  mercy's  fake  !  (he  cry'd)  ; 
Mercy,  chief  glory  of  the  brave  ! 
Sufpend  your  ftrife  by  him  who  died, 
From  endlefs  death  your  foul;  to  lave  '. 
Elfe  beauty's  blolTbrrr,  virtue's  pride, 
Scarce  blown,  muft  wither  in  the  gravs. 
Oh  let  me  to  her  aid  be  gone, 
Prevent  her  fate,  or  feek  my  own  1" 

Then,  by  the  facred  name  abjur'd, 

Sufpenfe  prevail'J  in  ev'ry  ro'nd  ; 

Whilft  Graham,  no  mure  by  troops  immur'd, 

A  paffkge  free  rejoic'd  to  find  : 

His  lovely  charge,  from  harm  fecur'd, 

He  in  a  neighbouring  tent  refign'd  : 

Thence  through  the  habitations  round, 

Relief  he  fought,  relief  he  found. 

Of  matrons  now,  a  weeping  train, 
Attended  round  the  fair  dillreft  : 
With  (kilful  hand,  and  care  humane, 
The  blood  they  ftopt,  the  wound  they  drrftj 
The  more  they  vitw'd,  the  lels  their  pain, 
For  (lightly  was  the  hurt  impieft, 
And,  (hould  her  mind  ferene  endure, 
Sul'ceptible  of  fpeedy  cure. 


THE   WORKS   OF   BLACKLO6K. 


By  undefigning  fury  thrown, 
The  weapon,  ere  it  reach'd  the  fair, 
Had  through  a  fpacious  diftance  flown, 
And  idly  fpent  its  force  in  air. 
When  to  the  rivals  this  was  known, 
What  joy  they  felt,  from  what  defpair ! 
So  joy  the  guilty  when  from  heaven 
They  hear  pronounc'd  their  fins  forgiv'n. 

CANTO  IIL 

AND  now  in  milder  tafks  engag'd, 
The  wants  of  nature  to  repair ; 
No  longer  war  the  armies  wag'd, 
Their  dead  and  wounded  claim'd  their  care ; 
In  truce  their  mutual  honour  pledg'd, 
Both  pleas'd,  the  common  fafety  (hare ; 
While  Graham  and  Howard  in  one  tent, 
The  tranquil  hour  in  parley  fpent. 

Thus  Graham  began  :   "  Let  local  hate 
And  jealous  rage,  be  cancelTd  here  ; 
And  now  that  myftery  of  fate, 
Whofe  lighteft  word  demands  my  ear, 
In  this  calm  interval,  relate 
With  temper  candid  and  fincere ; 
Each  dark  event  minutely  (how, 
And  how  I  ftand  concern'd,  to  know.** 

To  whom  his  rival :  "  From  my  tongue 
Expect  the  ftory  but  in  part : 
Of  Caledonian  lineage  fprung, 
Thou  deem'ft  the  charmer  of  thy  heart ; 
There  thou  beheld'ft  her  firft  when  young, 
There  firft  thou  felt'ft  the  pleafing  fmart, 
Which  fince  o'er  all  thy  bofom  reigns, 
And  conftitutes  its  joys  or  pains. 

But  erft,  when  urg'd  by  youthful  heat 
To  fatisfy  a  brother's  (hade, 
1  plung'd  myfelf  beyond  retreat, 
Where  all  its  horrors  war  difplay'd. 
And  by  this  conduct  indifcreet, . 
To  Scotland  pris'ner  was  convey 'd  : 
A  fire  with  years  and  honours  grac'd, 
To  me  her  various  fortunes  trac'd. 

For  as  by  chance  our  way  (he  crofs'd, 

'•  Thsu  view,  (faid  he)  that  lovely  maid, 

"  Heaven's  darling  image,  nature's  boalt, 

"  Virtue  by  beauty's  hand  array'd  ; 

"  Yet  in  the  ftorms  of  fortune  toft, 

"  When  heaven's  bleft  beam  flie  fcarce  furveyM 

"  Her  from  the  womb  no  fire  embrac'd, 

M  No  gladnefs  hail'd,  no  fplendour  grac'd. 

"  With  England's  troops,  in  hoftile  guife, 
"  A  godlike  youth  adorn'd  the  field, 
K  Who,  till  he  gain'd  fome  high  emprife, 
*'  His  name  and  pedigree  conceal'd : 
"  But  partial  fortune  oft  denies 

The  meed  which  bright  defert  fliould  yield, 
•'  Rufliing  unguarded  on  the  fray, 
14  Too  foon  deprefs'd  by  wounds  he  lay. 

"  Him  EUiot,  hofpitable  knight, 

«'(  Convuls'd  with  pain,  and  drench'd  in  gore, 

Beheld,  and  through  the  (hock  of  fight. 
'  Surviving  tp  his  maofion  bore  ; 


"  His  daughter,  melting  at  the  fight, 

"  The  blooming  hero  to  reftore, 

"  Apply'd  each  falutary  art, 

"  And  cur'd  his  wound,  but  pierc'd  his  heart. 

"  For  in  his  chamber,  while  confin'd, 

"  And  tended  by  the  pitying  fair, 

"   Withanguifli  more  intenfe  he  pin'd, 

"  Than  that  extinguifh'd  by  her  care. 

"  He  .breath'd  the  torment  of  his  mind, 

"  Nor  flie  reluctant  heard  his  pray'r  : 

"  A  prieft  (unknown  to  Elliot)  came, 

"  And  with  heaven's  fariction  crown'd  their  flame. 

"  By  honour  call'd,  impell'd  by  hope, 

"  Once  more  in  arms  the  hero  rofe, 

"  Renown's  eternal  worth  to  crop, 

"  Which  high  on  danger's  fummit  grows  : 

"  But  doom'd  with  mightier  force  to  cope, 

"  And  circled  by  a  worid  of  foes; 

"  '  My  life,  my  love,  my  hopes,  farewel '.' 

"  He  faid ;  and  crufh'd  by  numbers,  fell. 

"  The  father  every  worth  confeft, 

"  Which  the  young  bridegroom's  foul  adorn'd  ; 

"  Yet,  for  his  country  prepolTefs'd, 

"  All  overtures  from  England  fcorn'd ; 

"  Nor  ceas'd  the  ftranger  to  deleft, 

"  Who  from  his  arms  his  child  fuborn'd, 

"  Nor  view'd  with  nature's  fond  regard, 

"  Her  foul  deprefs'd,  her  form  impair'd ; 

"  Her  period  of  geftation  o'er, 

"  And  nature  ftruggling  for  relief, 

"  Her  orphan  babe  the  mother  bore, 

"  Sad  heir  of  indigence  and  grief  1 

"  Then,  banifh'd  from  her  father's  door, 

"  By  mandates  from  the  angry  chief, 

"  Within  a  convent's  walls  confin'd, 

"  Her  fuff'ring  fpirit  (he  refign'd. 

"  Yet  inftindt,  pow'rful  in  his  breaft, 

"  (Though  with  determin'd  hate  inflam'd) 

"  The  fmiling  infant  he  carefs'd, 

"  And  for  his  once-lov'd  Anna  nam'd  : 

"  His  hand  her  (lighteft  wants  redrefs'd, 

"  His  heart  her  plan  of  culture  fram'd  ; 

"  Yet  would  not  own  the  charming  maid, 

"  Till  aature's  debt  his  daughter  paid. 

"  Then  'gan  his  ftubbom  foul  to  melt ; 
"  Emotions  till  that  hour  unknown, 
"  Through  all  his  alter'd  mind  he  felt, 
"  Which  injur'd  nature  might  atone  ; 
"  Still  in  his  breaft  the  parent  dwelt, 
"  Now  reign'd  triumphant  and  alone  ; 
"  Transferr'd  from  fortune's  barren  wafte, 
*'  His  eyes  (he  charm'd,  his  manlion  grac'd." 

"  Thus  far  the  chief,  nor  more  he  knew  ; 
For  hid  in  night's  impervious  veil, 
The  youth's  defcent  eludes  our  view, 
Nor  can  we  gain  this  fad  detail, 
Where  firft  that  vernal  bloflbm  grew, 
Whofe  ruin  hoftile  eyes  bewail : 
His  birth  from  England  all  atteft, 
Deep  fecrecy  involves  tne  reft." 

Whilft  thus  in  Scotland  I  remaia'd: 
A  wretched  cautiv«  oo  parole, 


POEMS. 


Her  charms  my  raphirM  eyes  detain'd, 
Her  virtues  conquer'd  all  my  foul: 
Oh  !  what  is  liberty  regain'd, 
When  endlefs  chains  the  mind  controul? 
Fulfil,  juft  Heav'n,  thy  fix'd  decree, 
And  ftrike  me  dead,  or  fet  me  free  ? 

By  public  fanclion  thence  releas'd, 
As  to  our  camp  1  bent  my  way, 
With  fond  anticipation  pleas'd, 
My  late  dishonour  to  repay  ; 
Each  fenfe  the  voice  of  anguifh  feiz'd, 
Anguifh  that  could  not  brook  delay  ; 
I  faw  my  Anna's  ftruggling  charms 
Encircled  in  a  ruffian's  arms. 

O'Braian  of  Hebenv'an  race, 

A  robber  fam'd  and  fear'd  around, 

To  gain  the  prize  had  watch'd  the  place, 

And  now  prefum'd  his  willies  crovvn'd  : 

Thither,  enrag'd,  I  urg'd  my  pace, 

And  made  the  felon  bite  the  ground; 

His  timid  train  his  fall  furvey'd, 

Nor  to  revenge  their  leader  ftaid. 

With  indignation  and  defpair, 
All  pale  and  faint  my  charmer  lay  ; 
I  rais'd  her  with  fraternal  care, 
And  gently  footh'd  her  deep  difmay  ; 
I  begg'd,  nor  did  (lie  flight  my  pray'r; 
But,  fweet  companion  of  my  way, 
By  my  protecting  arm  fuftain'd, 
At  length  fecure  the  camp  fhe  gain'd. 

Nor,  though  the  maid  for  thee  declares, 
Let  paffion  joys  in  profpedl  feign  ; 
Divided  hearts,  divided  cares, 
Domeftic  blifs  can  ne'er  maintain  : 
An  Englifh  heart  thy  Annafhares; 
Still  in  her  bread  fhall  England  reign  : 
Hence  woes  entail'd  on  all  thy  line,    , 
Shall  prove  a  curfe  to  thee  and  thine. 

But  now  in  heav'n's  high  vault  no  ftar 
To  gild  the  dark  horizon  glows; 
No  ibund  ambiguous,  heard  from  far, 
Through  air's  thin  texture  trembling  flows: 
Nature  fatigu'd  with  toils  and  war, 
Courts  the  dear  bkffing  of  repoie  : 
Soon  fhall  the  light's  officious  glare 
Reftore  the  world  to  grief  and  care." 

While  thus  their  languid  pow'rs  to  cheer, 

Grateful  recefs  the  warriors  fought, 

Thither  extended  on  a  bier, 

An  agonizing  chief  was  brought: 

.But  as  he  now  advanc'd  more  near, 

Elliot,  whom  dead  before  they  thought, 

Elliot  himfelf  they  recognize, 

And  melt  in  tears,  and  burft  in  fighs. 

"  You  fee  me  ftill,  though  (till  alive  ; 
(In  groans  th'  expiring  hero  faid) ; 
From  duty,   ftrength  my  pow'rs  derive, 
To  dear  departed  worth  unpaid  ; 
This  done,  with  fate  no  more  I  ftrive, 
But  fink  beneath  its  peaceful  lhade  ; 
Enough  of  life  kind  Heav'n  beftows, 
'When,  fame  and  virtue  grace  its  clcfe. 
Voi.  XL 


Thy  audience,  Howard,  let  me  claim  ; 
To  thee  my  meflage  is  addreft ; 
For  when  my  fitter's  languid  frame 
The  bed  of  death  reclining  preft, 
Her  long  lamented  hufband's  name 
To  me  her  dying  lips  confeft  ; 
Thy  ill-ftarr'd  brother  (raflily  brave)  ! 
To  Anna's  charms  exifteuce  gave. 

How  light  thefe  laft  convulfions  feem, 

That  fliow  my  mortal  crifis  near  ! 

But  nature's  voice  in  this  extreme, 

Her  pleading  voice,  what  heart  can  bear  I 

This,  this  is  agony  fupreme  : 

Ten  thoufand  deaths  are  lefs  fevere  : 

Great  God  1  whofe  fmile  is  more  than  lifej 

Confole  my  tender  babes  and  wife. 

How  long  fhaltthou,  my  couutry  !  fmart, 
For  whom  my  blood  fpontaneous  flows  '. 
Thrice  happy  could  my  pangs  impart 
A  lafting  cure  for  all  thy  woes ; 
Thefe  plagues,  benignant  pow'r,  avert, 
And  grant  fiucere,  though  late  repofe, 
Where  wrath  and  devaluation  fway, 
Let  arts  of  peace  their  charms  difplay  ! 

For  me,  my  friends,  your  forrowsfpare  ; 

I  go  in  regions  more  fublime, 

A  nobler  deftiny  to  (hare, 

Above  the  fphere  of  chance  and  time. 

Howard,  be  Anna's  bloom  thy  care 

In  this  inhofpitable  clime. '' 

His  parting  foul,  while  this  he  faid, 

Angels  to  blifs  in  heav'h  convey'd. 

CANTO  IV. 

Now  with  immortal  fplendour  gayj 
The  fun  his  wonted  courfe  refumes, 
To  pour  th'  exhauftlefs  flood  of  day, 
Which  heaven's  majeftic  arch  illumes : 
From  ev'ry  bufh  the  vernal  lay, 
From  ev'ry  op'ning  flow'r  perfumes 
Impregnate  wide  the  fportive  gale, 
And  joy  exults  in  hill  and  dale. 

Not  fo  the  hofts  on  yonder  plain  ; 
Their  hearts  of  comfort  felt  no  ray, 
For  conqueft  each  had  toil'd  in  vain, 
Nor  hop'd  the  dear  decifive  day  : 
Sadden'd  with  labour,  want,  and  paij, 
Th'  interminable  profpect  lay  ; 
But  chief  in  ev'ry  Engiifli  foul 
Sedition  rag'd  without  controul. 

Thus  to  his  mate  each  foldier  cries: 
"   What  cilffe  this  fruitless  war  extends  I 
At  home  each  field  uncultur'd  lies, 
On  which  our  daily  bread  depends  : 
Alike  the  Scot  his" wants  fupp.ies, 
Where'er  his  devious  courfe  he  bends," 
Mov'd  by  fuch  views  their  heralds  came, 
A  new  cefl'ation  to  proclaim. 

"  Ye  quiver'd  Scots,  our  words  attend ; 
|  Pacific  overtures  we  bring  : 
I  Shall  groans  and  carnage  never  end  ? 
{  Shall  biovd  from,  rills  perennial  fpriaj? 
I  4  H 


THE   WORKS    OF  BLACKLOCK. 


liet  either  nation  envoys  fend, 
For  peace  to  importune  its  king." 
The  holts  for  peace  exclaim  around : 
Peace  heav'n,  and  earth,  and  lea  refound. 

In  holy  fervour  now  entranc'd, 
From  Scotia's  bands  a  rev'rend  fage, 
Halfway  between  the  troops  advanc'd, 
In  all  the  dignity  of  age  : 
With  ardent  eyes,  on  both  he  glanc'd, 
That  lighten'd  with  prophetic  rage, 
Then  on  a  point  of  empty  fpace, 
Their  beams  directing  ftopp'd  his  pace. 

"  The  god !  the  flaming  god  !  (he  cry'd) 

I  feel  him  all  my  pow'rs  controul. 

Oh  !  gently  on  my  fpirit  glide. 

Nor  into  nothing  flalh  my  foul ! 

O'er  heav'n  and  earth  one  boundlefs  tide 

Of  glory  fweeps  from  pole  to  pole : 

Inimitable  to  grofler  eyes. 

•The  book  of  fate  expanded  lies. 

Two  chiefs  I  fee  of  noble  name, 

Whofe  hearts  in  friendfhip  once  were  join'd, 

Competitors  for  love  and  fame, 

Now  glow  with  paflions  more  unkind  ; 

Whilft  Cold  fufpicion,  mutual  blame, 

Embitter  each  diflever'd  mind  : 

Such  ills  on  human  fpirits  prey, 

By  cruel  error  led  aftray. 

To  truth  eternal  and  fevere, 
.Howard,  thy  docile  ear  incline  ! 
Nature's  great  interdict  revere ; 
For  nature's  mandate  fpeaks  in  mine  : 
By  kindred  blood  ally'd  fo  near, 
To  kindred  love  thy  wifti  confine ; 
£lfe  fhall  thy  days  in  anguifh  flow, 
And  Cod  and  roan  pronounce  thee  foe. 

ahee,  Graham,  of  Anna's  charms  pofleft, 
My  foul's  enlightcn'd  view  furveys : 
Each  night  fhall  give  thee  facred  reft, 
Each  day  to  light  thy  joys  ftall  blaze  : 
With  all  a  father's  tranfports  bleft, 
I  fee  thy  offspring  fix  thy  gaze ; 
And  with  ineffable  delight, 
Behold  your  lovely  forms  unite. 

Difpatch'd  from  heaven's  ethereal  height, 

By  her  eternal  father's  fmile, 

Fair  peace  accelerates  her  flight, 

To  blefs  this  long  diftracled  ifle  : 

Fell  anger  and  corrofive  fpite, 

No  more  inur'd  to  war  and  fpoil, 

Jn  adamantine  fetters  bound, 

With  clamour  fliake  their  cells  prpfound. 

But  as  with  defultory  fire 
Along  th'  aerial  current  borne,- 
When  fcarce  its  luilre  we  admire, 
The  meteor  leaves  our  fight  forlorn : 
So,  blafted,  peace  fliall  foon  retire, 
And  Britain,  dill  by  faction  torn, 
Shall  mark  with  honors  ev'ry  age, 
And  glut  with  civil  blood  its  rage. 

Where  am  I  wrapt,  eternal  pow't  I 
What  ccftacies  my  foul  dilate ', 


Emerge  thou  bright  aufpicious  h»ur, 
Elude  the  flow  refults  of  fate. 
The  rofe,  gay  fummer's  fav'rite  flow'r, 
No  more  with  tumid  pride  inflate, 
Shall  throw  each  prejudice  aftde, 
And  with  the  thiftle  be  ally'd. 

By  (anguine  proof,  ye  nations,  taught 
What  various  ills  from  difcord  rife, 
Difcord  with  all  the  curfes  fraught 
That  earth  can  feel  or  hell  devife  ; 
With  facred  vigilance  of  thought, 
Your  union  cultivate  and  prize  ; 
Union,  eternal  fource  of  joy, 
Which  nought  can  leflen  or  deftroy. 

England!  for  induftry  and  toil, 
Wifdom,  and  polifh'd  arts,  renown'd, 
Whofe  happy  clime  and  grateful  foil 
Diffufe  exhauftlefs  plenty  round ; 
So  from  thy  (hores  may  foes  recoil, 
Involv'd  in  fhame,  and  grief  profound. 
As  thou  behold'ft  with  placid  eyes 
Thy  lifter  kingdom's  glory  rife. 

Scotia  !  to  earth's  remoteft  verge» 

By  each  confpicuous  virtue  known, 

•Whofe  glorious  deeds,  whofe  talents  large, 

Enrich  all  climates  but  thy  own  ; 

To  him  thy  duty  firft  discharge, 

From  whofe  paternal  hand  alone 

Thy  bleflings,  which  no  meafure  know, 

Thy  freedom,  wealth,  and  fafety  flow. 

Nor  let  fedudrive  pleafure's  charms, 
From  wifdom's  ways  thy  foul  allure, 
Nor  quench  thy  gen'rous  third  of  arms, 
Nor  all  thy  recent  fame  obfcure  : 
Thy  breaft,  while  noble  ardour  warms, 
For  facred  faith,  and  viitue  pure, 
Till  heav'n  and  earth  fhall  pafs  away, 
Thy  glory  ne'er  fliail  feel  decay. 

ON  DR.  BLACKLOCK'S  BIRTH-DAY*. 

BY  MRS.  BLACKLOCK. 

PROPITIOUS  day  !  to  me  for  ever  dear; 

Oh !  may'ft  thou  {till  return  from  year  to  year, 

Replete  with  choiceft  bleflings  Heav'n  can  fen«J, 

An<J  guard  from  ev'ry  harm  my  deareft  friend. 

May  we  together  tread  life's  various  maze, 

In  fhi<5r.eft  virtue,  and  in  grateful  praife 

To  thee,  kind  Providence,  who  haft  ordaiii'd 

One  for  tke  other  fympathetic  friend. 

And  when  life's  current  in  our  veins  grows  col«l, 

Let  each  the  other  to  their  breaft  enfold 

Their  ether  dearer  felf ;  with  age  opprefl, 

Then,  gracious  God,  receive  us  both  to  reft. 

FROM  DR.  DOWNMAN  TO  MRS.  BLACK- 
LOCK. 

OCCASIONED  BY  THE  COPY  OF  VERSES  SHE  AB- 

DRESSED  TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

As  round  Parnaflus  on  a  day, 
Melifla  idly  chanc'd  to  ftray, 

*  Tbefe  wrfcj,  tic  only  verfes  ever  attempted  By  Mrs. 
BIacklgckt  art  t»  btcon/idered,ni>t «  afftcimen  of  a  pott  I- 
6 


POEMS. 


She  gathered  from  its  native  bed, 

As  there  it  grew,  a  rofe-bud  red. 

Mean  time  Calliope  came  by, 

And  Hymen,  with  obfequious  eye, 

Watching  her  looks,  gallantly  trod  ; 

Fair  was  the  mufe,  and  bright  the  god. 

The  mortal,  at  th'  unwonted  fight 

"Was  ftruck  with  dread,  as  well  fhe  might. 

When  thus  the  queen  :  "  How  could'ft  thou  dare 

"  Without  my  paffport,  venture  here  ? 

"  That  rofc-bud  caft  upon  the  plain, 

"  And  feek  thy  priftine  fliades  again." 

But  Hymen  thus  the  mufe  befpoke ; 

"  Oh  !  Goddefs  dear,  thine  ire  revoke ! 

For,  if  I  err  not,  on  my  life, 

This  wanderer  is  our  Blacklock's  wi'fe. 

At  which  fhe  fmiling  milder  grew, 

For  him  of  yore  full  well  fhe  knew. 

Then  Hymen  thus  addrefs'd  the  dame ; 

"  She  pardons,  though  fhe  ft.il!  muft  blame. 

"  But  take  the  rofe-bud  in  your  hand, 

"  And  fay,  you  bring,  at  my  command, 

"  That  prefent  from  Parnaffus'  grove, 

"  A  grateful  flower  of  married  love." 


FROM  DR.  DOWNMAN  TO  DR.  BLACK- 
LOCK. 

EDINA'S  walls  can  fancy  fee, 
And  not,  my  Blacklock,  think  on  thee  ? 
'Ere  I  that  gentle  name  forget, 
This  flefh  muft  pay  great  nature's  debt, 
Hail !  worthieft  of  the  fons  of  men, 
Not  that  the  mufcs  held  thy  pen, 
And  plac'd  before  thy  mental  fight 
F.ach  hue  of  intellectual  light : 
But  that  a  genVous  foul  is  thine, 
Richer  by  far  than  Plutus"  mine  ; 
With  utmoft  nicenefs  fram'd  to  feel 
Another's  woe,  another's  weal; 
Where  friendfhip  heap'd  up  all  her  ftofCj 
That  glorious  trcafure  of  the  poof, 
To  grovelling  vanity  unknown, 
Not  to  be  purchas'd  by  a  throne  ; 
Where  patience,  refignation's  child, 
Misfortune  of  her  power  beguil'd; 
Where  love  her  purple  ceftus  bound 
Where  a  retirement  virtue  found, 
Contentment  a  perpetual  treat, 
And  Honour  a  delightful  feat ; 
Religion  could  with  Pleafure  feaft, 
And  met  no  bigot,  though  a  prieft. 

TO  MR.  THOMAS  BLACKLOCK. 

To  fame  and  to  the  mufe  unknown 
Where  arts  and  fcience  never  fhone, 

*  A  hamlet  ftands  fecure  : 
Her  ruftic  fons,  to  toil  inui'd, 

By  blooming  health  and  gain  allur'd, 
Their  grateful  foil  manure. 

cal genius,  -which  Jbe  never  pretended  to  pofffi,  out  as 
an  cxpreffion  of  her  affiflion  f'.r  her  bijband,  and  her 
•uentration  for  that  amiable  dif/iofttiori,  and  that  divine 
gift  of  poetry,  -with  -which  he  ttasfo  eminently  bUJJed.. 

*  Hoc kiiff'e,  a  little  country  village  mar  Carli/Ie,  in  tbe 
ettinty  of  C 


What  means  my  heart !— 'Tis  nature's  pow'r: 
Yes,  here  I  date  my  natal  hour, 

My  burfting  heart  would  fay : 
Here  fleep  the  fwains  from  whom  1  fprung, 
Whofe  confcience  fell  remorfe  ne'er  flung; 

For  nature  led  their  way. 

Simplicity,  unftain'd  with  crimes, 
(A  gem  how  rare  in  modern  times;) 

Was  all  from  them  I  bore : 
No  founding  titles  fwell'd  my  pride  j 
My  heart  to  mis'ry  ne'er  was  ty'd, 

By  heaps  of  mining  ore. 

Heedlefs  of  wealth,  of  pow'r,  of  fame; 
Heedlefs  of  each  ambitious  aim, 

Here  flow'd  my  boyifh  years. 
How  oft  thefe  plains  I've  thoughtlefs  preft ; 
Whittled,  or  fung  fome  fair  *diftreft, 

Whofe  fate  would  fleal  my  tears ! 

Thus  rude,  unpolifh'd,  unrefin'd 

While,  plung'd  in  darkefl  night,  my  mind 

Uncultivated  lay ; 

With  pity  mov'd,  my  fate  you  view'd; 
My  way  to  light,  to  reafon  fhow'd, 

And  op'd  the  fource  of  day : 

You  Joos'd  and  form'd  my  infant  thought ; 
Your  (kill,  your  matchlefs  goodnefs  taught, 

Where  truth  and  blifs  to  find  : 
Painted,  by  thee,  in  all  her  charms, 
Each  gen'rous  heart  fair  virtue  warms, 

And  fweUs  the  ravilh'd  mind. 

Hail  bright  celeftial,  all  divine! 
O  come  !  infpire  this  breaft  of  mine 

With  all  thy  heav'nly  pow'r: 
Lead,  lead  me  to  thy  happinefs ; 
Point  out  thy  path  to  that  bleft  place, 

Where  grief  fliall  be  no  more. 


*  Alludlrg  to  a  fort  of  narrative  fangs,  vibicb  malt 
nt  inconftderable  part  of  tbe  innocent  amufementi  "with 
luhich  the  country  people  pafs  the  -winter  nights,  and  of 
•which  the  auibor  of  the  pisfent  piece  -was  a  faithful  rf 
bearfer. , 

j-  Thi:  little  poem  can  boafl  a  quality  <wbicb  commen~ 
Jatory  -verfcs  art  nutfuppofed  alivays  to  pojfefs,  to  •witt 
psrffcl  Jtncerity  and  gratitude  in  the  author.  Ha  tuas  « 
poor  nati-ue  of  .a  -village  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Carliftet 
ivhom  Mr.  BlackUck  had  taken  to  lead  him,  and -whom, 
finding  him  of  promtftng  parts,  and  of  a  difpofitiin  to 
learn,  hi  endeavoured  to  make  afcholar.  Hcfucccedcdfo 
•well,  as  to  teach  yovng  Hctvitt  the  Latin,  Greek,  anil 
French  languages,  and  fume  inovj/eJge  in  thcfciences.  The 
lad  bore  his  majler  that  ivarm  affection  -whub  bis  kindnefr 
fi'Uom  failed  to  procure  from  his  dome/lies,  and  left  himt 
luith  untviilingnefs,  t«  enter  thefer-vice  of  Lord  Milton 
(then  Lord  Jtijlice  Clerk),  luhofe  fer.retary  he  becc-nui 
The  fatigue  of  thatjiation  hurt  his  health)  and  be  4\tt 
in  1764% 


THE   WORKS   OF  BLACKLOCK. 


AN  EPISTLE  FROM  DR.  BEATTIE, 

TO  THE  REVEREND  MR.  THOMAS  BLACKLOCK*. 

"  Monftro  quod  ipfe  tibi  poffis  dare;  femita  certc 
"  Tranquilly  per  virtutem  patet  unica  vitae. 

JUVENAL,  SAT.  X. 

HAIL  to  the  poet!  whofe  fpontaneous  lays 
No  pride  reftrains,  nor  venal  flattery  fvvays : 
Who,  nor  from  critics,  nor  from  fafh ion's  laws, 
Learns  to  adjuit  his  tribute  of  applaule  ; 
But  bold  to  feel,  and  ardent  to  impart 
What  nature  whifpers  to  the  generous  heart, 
Propitious  to  the  moral  fong,  commends, 
Jor  virtue's  fake,  the  humbkft  of  her  friends. 

Peace  to  the  grumblers  of  an  envious  age, 
Vapid  in  fnleen,  or  brifk  in  frothy  rage  ! 
Critics,  who,  ere  they  underftand,  defame  ; 
And  friends  demure,  who  only  do  not  blame  ; 
And  puppet-prattlers,  whofe  unconfcious  throat 
Tranfmitb  what  the  pert  witling  prompts  by  rote, 
Pleas'd  to  their  fpite  or  fcorn  I  yield  the  lays 
That  boaft  the  fanctioh  of  a  Blacklock's  praife. 
Let  others  court  the  blind  and  babbling  crowd : 
Mine  be  the  favour  of  the  wife  and  good. 

O  thou,  to  cenfure,  as  to  guile  unknown ! 
Indulgent  to  all  merit  but  thy  own ! 
Whofe  foul,  though  darknefs  wrap  thine  earthly 

frame, 

Exults  in  virtue's  pure  ethereal  flame; 
Whofe  thoughts,  congenial  with  the  ftrains  on  high, 
The  mufe  adorns,  but  cannot  dignify ; 
As  northern  lights,  in  glittering  legions  driven, 
Umbellifh,  not  exalt  the  ftarry  heaven: 
Say  thou,  for  well  thou  know'ft  the  art  divine 
To  guide  the  fancy,  and  the  foul  refine, 

*  fitle  Dr.  Btattie's  Poems,  edition  1/66,  f.  135. 


What  heights  of  excellence  muft  he  afcend, 
Who  longs  to  claim  a  Blacklock  for  his  friend; 
Who  longs  to  emulate  thy  tuneful  art ; 
But  more  thy  meek  Omplicity  of  heart ; 
But  more  thy  virtue  patient,  undlfmay'd, 
At  once  though  malice  and  mifchance  invade  ; 
And,  nor  bylearn'd  nor  prieftly  pride  confin'd, 
Thy  zeal  for  truth,  and  love  of  human  kind. 

Like  thee,  with  fweet  ineffable  controul, 
Teach  me  to  roufe  or  footh  th'  impaffion'd  foul, 
And  breathe  the  luxury  of  focial  woes ; 
Ah  !  ill-exchang'd  lor  all  that  mirth  beftows. 
Ye  flavcs  of  mirth,  renounce  your  boafted  plan, 
For  know,  'tis  fympathy  exalts  the  man. 
But,  midft  the  feftive  bower,  or  echoing  hall, 
Can  riot  liften  to  foft  pity's  call  ? 
Rude  he  repels  the  foul-ennobling  gueft, 
And  yields  to  felfifli  joy  his  harden'd  breaft. 

Teach  me  thine  artlels  harmony  of  fong, 
Sweet,  as  the  vernal  warblings  borne  along 
Arcadia's  myrtle  groves ;  ere  art  began, 
With  critic  glance  malevolent,  to  fcan 
Bold  nature's  generous  charms,  difplay'd  profufe 
In  each  warm  cheek,  and  each  cnraptur'd  mufe. 
Then  had  not  fraud  impos'd,  in  fafhion's  name, 
For  freedom  lifelcfs  form,  and  pride  for  fhame; 
And,  for  th'  o'erflowings  of  a  heart  fincere, 
The  feature  nVd,  untarnifh'd  with  a  tear; 
The  cautious,  flow,  and  unenliven'd  eye, 
And  breaft  inur'd  to  check  the  tender  figh. 
Then  love,  unblam'd,  indulg'd  the  guiltlefs  fmile  ; 
Deceit  they  f&ar'd  not,  for  they  knew  not  guile. 
The  focial  fehfe  unaw'd,  that  fcorn'd  to  own 
The  curb  of  law,  fave  nature's  law  alone, 
To  godlike  aims,  and  godlike  actions  fir'd; 
And  the  full  energy  of  thought  infpir'd ; 
And  the  full  dignity  of  pleafure,  given 
T'  exalt  defire,  and  yield  a  tafte  of  heaven. 


PIECES  OMITTED  IN  THE  WORKS  OF  BRUCE. 


ECLOGUE  * 

IN  THE  MANNER  OF  OSSIAN. 

0  COME,  my  love  !  from  thy  echoing  hill;  thy 
rocks  on  the  mountain  wind  ! 

The  hill-top  flames  with  letting  light;  the  vale 
is  bright  with  the  beam  of  eve.  Blithe  on  the 
village  green  the  maiden  milks  her  cows.  The 
boy  (bouts  in  the  wood,  and  wonders  who  talka 
from  the  trees.  But  echo  talks  from  the  trees, 
repeating  his  notes  of  joy.  Where  art  thou,  O 
Morna  !  thou  faireft  among  women  ?  I  hear  not 
the  bleating  of  thy  flock,  nor  thy  voice  in  the 
wind  of  the  bill.  Here  is  the  field  of  our  loves ; 
now  is  the  hour  of  thy  promife.  See,  frequent 
from  the  harveft-field  the  reapers  eye  the  fetting 
fun:  but  thou  appeared  not  on  the  plain.— 

Daughters  of  the  bow  !  Saw  ye  my  love,  with 
her  little  flock  tripping  before  her  ?  Saw  ye  her, 
fair  moving  over  the  heath,  and  waving  her  locks 
behind  like  the  yellow  fun-beams  of  evening  ? 

Come  from  the  hill  of  clouds,  fair  dweller  of 
woody  Lumon ! 

1  was  a  boy  when  I  went   to  Lumon's  lovely 
vale.     Sporting  among  the  willows  of  the  brook, 
I  law  the  daughters  of  the   plain.      Fair  were 
their  faces  of  youth  ;  but  mine  eye  was  fixed  on 
Morna.     Red  was  her  cheek,   and  fair  her  hair. 
Her  hand  was  white  as  the  lily.     Mild  was  the 
beam  of  her  blue  eye,  and  lovely  as  the  laft  fmile 
of  the  fun.     Her  eye  met  mine  in  filence.    Sweet 
were  our  words  together  in  fecret.     I  little  knew 
what  meant  the  heavings  of  my  bofom,  and  the 
wild  wifh  of  my  heart.     I  often   looked  back  up 
on  Lumon's  vale,  and  bleft  the  fair  dwelling  of 
Morna.     Her  name  dwelt  ever  on  my  lip.     She 
came  to  my  dream  by  night.     Thou  didft  come 
'in  thy  beauty,   O  maid  !  lovely  as  the  ghoft  of 
Malvina,  when,  cjad  with  the  robes  of  heaven, 
Ihe  came  lo  the  vale  of  the  muon,  to  vifit  the  aged 
«yes  of  Offian  king  of  harps. 

Come  from  the  cloud  of  night,  thou  firft  of  our 
^aidens !  come— 
The  wind  is  down  ;  the  (ky  is  clear  :  red  is  the 
cloud  of  evening.     In  circles  the  bat  wheels  over 
head ;  the  boy  puriues  his  flight.     The  farmer 

'  *  Mr.  Pearfon  afrribes  this  Eclogue  tc  Bruce : 
•Pr.  Rtliertfon  nfrribe:  it  to 


ha'h  the  figns  of  heaven,  the  promife  of  halcyon 
days  :  joy  brightens  in  his  eyes.  O  Morna  !  firit 
of  maidens  !'  thou  art  the  joy  of  Salgar  !  thou  art 
his  one  defire  !  I  wait  thy  coming  on  the  field. 
Mine  eye  is  over  all  the  plain.  One  echo  fpreads 
on  every  fide.  It  is  the  fliout  of  the  fliepherds 
folding  their  flocks.  They  call  to  their  compa 
nions,  each  on  his  echoing  hill.  From  the  red 
cloud  rifes  the  evening  ftar — But  who  comes 
yonder  in  light,  like  the  moon  the  queen  of  hea 
ven  ?  It  is  flie  !  the  ftar  of  itars  !  the  lovely  light 
of  Lumon!  Welcome,  fair  beam,  of  beauty,  for 
ever  to  fliine  in  our  valleys  I 
Morna. 

I  come  from  the  hill  of  clouds;-  Among  the 
green  rulhes  of  Balva's  bank,  I  follow  the  fteps  of 
my  beloved.  The  foal  in  the  meadow  frolics 
round  the  mare :  his  bright  mane  dances  on  the 
mountain  wind.  The  leverets  play  among  the 
green  ferns,  feaiiefs  of  the  hunter's  horn,  aryl  of 
the  bounding  gray-hound.  The  laft  (train  is  up  in 
the  wood. — Did  I  hear  the  voice  of  my  love  ?  It 
was  the  gale  that  fports  with  the  whirling  leaf, 
and  iighs  in  the  reeds  of  the  lake.  Blefled.be  the 
voice  of  winds  that  brings  my  Salgar  to  mind.  O 
Salgar  !  youth  of  the  rolling  eye  !  thou  art  the 
love  of  maidens.  Thy  face  is  a  fun  to  thy  friends: 
thy  words  are  fweet  as  a  fong  :  thy  fteps  are  lta>  :•- 
ly  on  thy  hill  :  thou  art  comely  in  the  1-rightr.  •" 
of  youth ;  like  the  moon,  when  (lie  put> 
dun  robe  in  the  fky,  and  brightens  the  face  o-. 
night.  The  clouds  rejoice  on  either  1'Je  ;  <«'. 
traveller  in  the  narrow  path  beholds  her.  ^oiirxr*, 
in  her  beauty  moving  through  the  m:di' 
ven.  Thou  art  fair,  O  youth  of  the  rolling  eye  i 
thou  waft  the  love  of  my  youth.  ' 
Salgar. 

Fair  wanderer  of  evening  !  pleafant  be  thy  rdV 
on  our  plains.     I  was  gathering  nuts  ;n 
for  my  love,  and  the  days  of  our  youth  returned 
to  mind  ;  when  we  played  together  on  the 
and  flew  over  the  field  with  fret  of  wind.     1 
ed  the  blackbird  for  my  love,    and   taujjh 
(ing  in  her  hand.     I  climbed  the  am.  in  the  c 
the  rock,  and  brought  you  the  doves  of  the  w^ 
JMornn. 

It  is  the  voice  of  my  beloved  !   Let  me  behi.iu 
him  from  the  wood-covered  vale,  as  he  lings  ol  tli» 

H  iij 


lilt 

times  of  old,  and  complains  to  the  voice  of  the 
rock.  Pleafant  were  the  days  of  our  youth,  .like 
the  fongs  of  othrr  years.  Often  have  we  fat  on 
thf  old  gray  ftone,  and  filent  marked  the  ftars,  as 
one  by  one  they  ftole  into  the  iky.  One  was  our 
wifli  by  day,  and  one  our  dream  by  night. 
Salgar. 

I  have  found  an  apple  tree  in  the  wood.  I 
planted  it  in  my  garden.  Thine  eye  beheld  it  all 
in  flower.  For  every  bloom  we  marked,  I  count 
an  apple  of  gold.  To-morrow  I  pull  the  fruit  for 
you.  O  come,  my  beft  beloved. 
Mortia. 

When  the  goflamour  melts  in  air,  and  the  furze 
crackle  in  the  beam  of  noon,  O  come  to  Cona's 
funny  fide,  and  let  thy  flocks  wander  in  our  val 
leys.  The  heath  is  in  flower.  One  tree  rifes  in 
the  midft.  Sweet  flows  the  river  by  its  fide  of 
age.  The  wild  bee  hides  his  honey  at  its  root, 
Our  words  will  be  Xweet  on  the  funny  hill.  Till 
grSy  evening  ftudow  the  plain,  I  will  Gng  to  my 
well-beloved. 


ODE  TO  A  FOUNTAIN  *. 


•  FOUNTAIN  of  the  wood  !  whofe  glafly  wave 
Slow'-rwelling  from  the  rock  of  years, 
Holds  to  heav'n  a  mirror  blue, 
And  bright  as  Anna's  eye. 

With  whem  I've  fported  on  the  margin  green : 
My  hand  with  leaves,  with  lilies  white, 
Gaily  deck'd  her  golden  hair, 
Young  naiad  of  the  vale. 

Fount  of  my  native  wood  !  thy  murmurs  greet 
My  ear,  like  poets  heav'nly  {train  : 
Fancy  pictures  in  a  dream 
The  golden  days  of  youth. 

O  ftate  of  innocence  !  O  paradife  ! 
In  hope's  gay  garden,  fancy  views 
Golden  bloffbms,  golden  fruits, 
And  Eden  ever  green. 

Where  now,  ye  dear  companions  of  my  youth  1 
Ye  brothers  of  my  bofom  !   where 
Do  ye  tread  the  walks  of  life, 
Wide  fcatter'd  o'er  the  world  ? 

Thus  winged  larks  forfake  their  native  neft, 
The  merry  minftrels  of  the  morn ; 
New  to  heav'n  they  mount' a  way, 
And  meet  again  no  more. 

All  things  decay  ;  the  foreft  like  the  leaf; 
Great  kingdoms  fall ;  the  peopled  globe, 
Planet-ftruck  (hall  pafs  away, 
Heav'ns  with  their  hofts  expire : 

B«t  hope's  fair  vifioss,  and  the  beams  of  joy, 
Shall  cheer  my  bofom  :  I  will  fing 
Nature's  beauty,  nature's  birth, 
And  heroes  on  the  lyre. 

*  Tbii  and  the  three  folio-wing  odes,  Dr.  Ro- 
tertfojt  af tribes  to  Logan. 


THE  WORKS    OF   BRUCE. 


Ye  naiads  !  blue-eyed  fifters  of  the  wood  1 
Who  by  old  oak,  or  floried  ftream, 
Nightly  tread  your  myftic  maze, 
And  charm  the  wand'ring  moon, 

Beheld  by  poet's  eye  ;  infpire  my  dreams 

With  vifions,  like  the  landfcapes  fair 

Ot  heav'n 's  blifs,  to  dying  taints 

By  guardian  angeis  drawn. 

Fount  of  the  foreft  !  in  thy  poet's  lays 

Thy  waves  (hall  flow  :  this  wreath  of  flow'rs, 
Gather'd  by  my  Anna's  hand, 
I  alk  to  bind  my  brow. 

DANISH  ODE. 

THF  great,  the  glorious  deed  is  done  ! 
The  foe  is  fled  1  the  field  is  won  ! 
Prepare  the  feaft ;  the  heroes  call  j 
Let  joy,  let  triumph  fill  the  hall ! 

The  raven  clafps  his  fable  wings; 
The  bard  his  chofen  timbrel  brings  j 
Six  virgins  round,  a  felecT:  choir, 
Sing  to  the  mufic  of  his  lyre. 

With  mighty  ale  the  goblet  crown  ; 
With  mighty  ale  your  forrows  drown  ; 
To-day,  to  mirth  and  joy  we.  yield; 
To-morrow,  face  the  bloody  field. 

•  From  danger's  front,  at  battle's  eve, 
Sweet  comes  the  banquet  to  the  brave ; 
Joy  ftiines  with  genial  beam  on  all, 
The  joy  that  dwells  in  Odin's  hall. 

The  fong  burfts  living  from  the  lyre, 
Like  dreams  that  guardian  ghofls  infpire; 
When  mimic  fhrieks  the  heroes  hear, 
And  whirl  the  vifionary  fpear. 

Mufic's  the  med'cine  of  the  mind ; 
The  cloud  of  care  give  to  the  wind  ; 
Be  ev'ry  brow  with  garlands  bound, 
And  let  the  cup  of  joy  go  round. 

The  cloud  comes  o'er  the  beam  of  light ; 
We're  guefts  that  tarry  but  a  night : 
In  the  dark  houfe,  together  prefs'd, 
The  prince's  and  the  people  reft. 

Send  round  the  fhell,  the  feaft  prolong, 
And  fend  away  the  night  in  fong  ; 
Be  bleft  below,  as  thofe  above, 
With  Odin's  and  the  friends  they  love. 

ANOTHER. 

IN  deeds  of  arms,  our  fathers  rife 
Illuftrious  in  their  offspring's  eyes : 
They  fearlefs  rufli'd  through  Ocean's  ftorrnS. 
And  dar'd  grim  death  in  all  its  forms; 
Each  youth  aflum'd  the  fword  and  fhield, 

And  grew  a  hero  in  the  field. 

Shall  we  degenerate  from  our  race; 
Inglorious  in  the  mountain  chafe  ? 
Arm,  arm  in  fallen  Hubba's  right ; 
Place  your  forefathers  in  your  light ; 


A  P  P  E   N  D  I  X. 


1213 


To  fame,  to  glory  fight  y«ur  way, 
And  teach  the  nations  to  obey. 

Aflume  the  oars,  unbind  the  fails ; 
Send,  Odin  !  fend  propitious  gales. 
At  Loda's  ftone,  we  will  adore 
Thy  name  with  fongs,  upon  the  fhore  ; 
And,  full  of  thee,  undaunted  dare 
The  foe,  and  dart  the  bolts  of  war. 

No  feafts  of  (hells  no  dance  by  night, 
Are  glorious  Odin's  dear  delight: 
He,  king  of  men,  his  armies  led, 
Where  heroes  ftrove,  where  battles  bled ; 
Now  reigns  above  the  morning-ftar, 
The  god  of  thunder  and  of  war. 

Blefs'd  who  in  battle  bravely  fall .' 
They  mount  on  wings  to  Odin's  hall ; 
To  mufic  found,  in  cups  of  gold, 
They  drink  new  wine  with  chiefs  of  old  ; 
The  fong  of  bards  records  their  name, 
And  future  times  fhall  fpeak  their  fame. 

Hark  !  Odin  thunders !  hafte  on  board  ; 
lllultrious  Canute  !  give  the  word. 
On  wings  of  wind  we  pafs  the  feas, 
To  conquer  realms,  if  Odin  pleafe  : 
With  Odin's  fpirit  in  our  foul, 
We'll  gain  the  globe  from  pole  to  pole. 

ODE  TO  PAOLI. 

WHAT  man,  %vhat  hero  fliall  ttie  mufes  fing, 
On  claflic  lyre  or  Caledonia  firing, 

Whofe  name  fhall  fill  th'  immortal  page  ; 
Who  fir'd  from  heav'n  with  energy  divine, 
In  lun-bright  glory  bids  his  actions  fliine 
Firft  in  the  annals  of  the  age  ? 

Ceas'd  are  the  golden  times  of  yore  ;n 

The  age  of  heroes  is  no  more ; 
Rare,  in  thefe  latter  times,  arife  to  fame 
The  poet's  ftrain  infpir'd,  or  hero's  heav'nly  flame. 

What  ftar  arifing  in  the  fouthern  Iky, 

New  to  the  heav'as,  attracting  Europe's  eye, 

With  beams  unborrovv'd,  fhines  afar  ? 
Who  comes  with  thoufands  marching  in  his  rear. 
Shining  in  arms,  (baking  his  bloody  Ipear, 
Like  the  red  comet,  fign  of  war? 

Paoli  !  lent  of  heav'n  to  lave 

A  rifing  nation  of  the  brave  ; 
Whole  firm  right  hand  his  angels  arm,  to  bear 
A  /hield  before  his  hoft,  and  dart  the  bolts  of  war. 

He  comes  !  he  comes  !  the  faviour  of  the  land  ! 
His  drawn  fword  flames  in  his  uplifted  hand, 

Enthufiaft  in  his  country's  caufe  ; 
Whofe  firm  refolve  obeys  a  nation's  call, 
To  rile  deliverer,  or  a  martyr  fall 
To  liberty,  to  dying  laws. 

Ye  fons  of  freedom  !  fing  his  praife  ; 

Ye  poets  !  bind  his  brows  with  bays; 
Ye  fcepter'd  fhadows!  caft  your  honours  down, 
And  bow  before  the  head  that  never  wore  a  crown. 

Who  to  the  hero  can  the  palm  refufe  I 
Great  Alexander  ftill  the  world  fubducs, 
The  heir  of  everlafting  praifg. 


But  when  the  hero's  flame,  the  patriot's  light; 
When  virtues  human  and  divine  unite; 

When  olives  twine  among  the  bays, 
And,  mutual,  both  Minerva's  fliine  ; 
A  conttellaticn  fo  divine, 
A  wond'ring  world  behold,  admire,  and  love, 
And  his  beft  image  here,  th'  Almighty  marks 
above. 

As  the  lone  fhepherd  hides  him  in  the  rocks, 
When  high  heav'n  thunders;  as  the  tim'rous  flocks 

From  the  defcending  torrents  flee  ; 
So  flies  a  world  of  flaves  at  war's  alarms, 
When  zeal  on  flame,  and  liberty  in  arms, 

Leads  on  the  fearlefs  and  the  free, 
Refiftlefs ;  as  the  torrent  flood, 
Horn'd  like  the  moon,  uproots  the  wood, 
Sweeps  flocks,  and,  herds,  and  harvefts  from  their 
bafe.  [place. 

And  moves  th'  eternal  hills  from  their  appointed 

Long  haft  thou  labour'd  in  the  glorious  ftrife, 
O  land  of  liberty  !  profufe  of  life, 

And  prodigal  of  pricelefs  blood. 
Where  heroes  bought  with  blood  the  martyr's 

crown, 
A  race  arofe,  heirs  of  their  high  renown, 

Who  dar'd  their  fate  through  fire  and  flood ; 
And  Gaffori  the  great  arofe, 
Whofe  words  of  pow'r  difarm'd  his  foes ; 
And  where  the  filial  image  fmil'd  afar, 
The  fire  turn'd  not  afide  the  thunders  of  the  war. 

O  liberty  !  to  man  a  guardian  giv'n, 

Thou  beft  and  brighteft  attribute  of  Heav'n ! 

From  whom  defcending,  thee  we  fing. 
By  nature  wild,  or  by  the  arts  refin'd, 
We  feel  thy  pow'r  efiential  to  our  mind ; 
Each  fon  of  freedom  is  a  king. 

Thy  praife  the  happy  world  proclaim, 

And  Britain  worfhips  at  thy  name, 
Thou  guardian  angel  of  Britannia's  ifle  ! 
And  God  and  man  rejoice  in  thy  immortal  fmile. 

Ifland  of  beauty  !  lift  thy  head  on  high  ; 
Sing  a  new  fong  of  triumph  to  the  (ky  ! 

The  day  of  thy  deliverance  fprings  I 
The  day  of  vengeance  to  thy  ancient  foe. 
Thy  fons  (hall  lay  the  proud  oppreflbr  low, 
,  And  break  the  head  of  tyrant  kings. 

Paoli !  mighty  man  of  war  ! 

All  bright  in  arms,  thy  conqu'ring  car 
Afcend  ;  thy  people  from  the  foe  redeem, 
Thou  delegate  of  Heav'n;  and  fon  of  the  Supreme ! 

Rul'd  by  th'  eternal  laws,  fupreme  o'er  all, 
kingdoms,  like  kings,  fucceflive  rife  and  fall. 

When  Caefar  conquer'd  half  the  earth, 
And  i'pread  his  eagles  in  Britannia's  fun, 
Did  Czefar  dream  the  favage  huts  he  won 

Should  give  a  far-fam'd  kingdom  birth  ? 
That  here  fliould  Roman  freedom  light ; 
The  weftern  mufes  wing  their  flight ; 
The, arts,  the  graces  find  their  fav'rite  home  ; 
Our  armies  awe  the  globe,  and  Britain  rival  Rome? 

Thus,  if  th'  Almighty  fay,  "  Let  freedom  be," 
Thou,  Corfica  I  the  golden  age  (halt  fee. 
Rejoice  with  fongJ,  rejoice  with  fmilesf 
4  H  iiij 


THE   WORKS    OF   BRUCE. 


Worlds  yet  unfound,  and  ages  yet  unborn,  i 

Shall  hail  a  new  Britannia  in  her'morn, 

The  queen  of  arts,  the  queen  of  ides  : 
The  arts,  the'beauteous  train  of  peace,' 
Shall  rife  and  rival  Rome  and  Greece  ; 
A  Newton  nature's  book  unfold  fublime  ; 
A  Milton  fing  to  heav'n,  and  charm  the  ear  of 
time. 

THE  LAST  DAY*. 

His  fecond  coming,  who  at  firft  appear'd 
To  fave  the  world,  but  now  to  judge  mankind 
According  to  their  works,  the  trumpets  found, 
The  dead  arifing,  the  wide  world  in  flames, 
The  manfions  of  the  bleft,  and  the  dire  pit 
Of  Satan  and  damnation,  mufe  unfold. 

O  Thou  whofe  eye  the  future  and  the  paft 
In  one  broad  view  beholdeft,  from  the  firft 
Of  days,  when  o'er  this  rude  unformed  mafs 
Light,  firft-born  of  exiftence,  fmiling  rofe, 
Down  to  that  lateft  moment  when  thy  voice 
Shall  bid  the  fun  be  darknefs,  when  thy  hand 
Shall  blot  creation  out,  affift  my  fong. 
Thou  only  know'ft,  who  gave  thefe  orbs  to  roll 
Their  deftin'd  circles,  when  their  courfe  mail  fet, 
When  ruin  anc|  deftru&ion  fierce  fhall  ride 
In  triujnph  o'er  creation.    Thrs  is  hid, 
In  kindnefs  unto  man.    Thou  giv'ft  to  him 
The  event  certain  :   Angels  know  not  when. 

"Twas  on  an  autumn's  eve,  calm  and  ferenc, 
1  walk'd,  attendant  on  the  funeral 
Of  an  old  fwain  ;  around,  the  village  crowd 
Loquacious  chatted,  till  we  rcach'd  the  place 
Where,  fhrouded  up,  the  fons  of  other  years 
Lie  filent  in  the  grave.     The  fexton  there 
Had  digg'd  the  bed  of  death,  the  narrow  houfe, 
For  all  that  live  appointed.     To  the  duft 
We  gave  the  dead.     Then  moralizing,  home 
The  fwains  return'd,  to  drown  in  copieus  bowls 
The  labours  of  the  day,  and  thoughts  of  death. 

The  fun  now  trembl'd  at  the  weftern  gate, 
His  yellow  rays  ftream'd  o'er  the  fleecy  clouds. 
I  fat  me  down  upon  a  broad  flat  flone, 
And  much  I  mufed  on  the  changeful  ftate 
Of  fublunary  things.     The  joys  of  life, 
How  frail,  how  fhort,  how  pafling.     As  the  fca, 
Now  flowing,  thunders  on  the  rocky  fliore, 
Now  lowly  ebbing,  leaves  a  trad  of  fend, 
Wa'fte,  wide,  and  dreary  :  So  is  this  vain  world. 
Through  every  varying  ftate  of  life  we  tofs 
In  endlefs  fluctuation    till  tir'd  out 
With  fad  variety  of  bad  and  worfe, 
We  reach  life's  period,  reach  the  blifsful  port, 
Where  change  affects  not,  and  the  weary  reft. 

Then  fare  the  fun  which  lights  us  to  our  fhroud, 
Than  that  which  gave  us  firft  to  fee  the  light, 
Is  happier  far,  as  he  who  hopelefs  long 
Hath  rode  th'  Atlantic  billow,  from  the  maft, 
Skirting  the  blue  horizon,  fees  the  land, 
His  native  land  approach,  joy  fills  his  heart, 
And  fwells  each  throbing  vein  ;  fo,  here  confin'd 
We  weary  tread  life's  long,  long  toilfome  maze, 
Mill  hoping,  vainly  hoping  for  relief, 
And  reft  from  labour.     Ah  !  miftaken  thought, 

o  fec  can  give. 


.  m 

i  o  feck  in  life  what  only  death 


•  Cmmunicatcd  by  Mr  Jobn  JSirrcl  c 


But  what  is  death  ?     Is  it  an  endleft  fleep, 
Unconfcious  of  the  preft-nt  or  the  paft  ; 
And  never  to  be  waken'd?  fleeps  the  foul; 
Nor  wakes  e'en  in  a  dream  ?     If  it  is  fo, 
Happy  the  fons  of  pkafure;  they  have  liv'd, 
And  made  the  moft  of  life  :    And  foolifh  he, 
The  fage  who,  dreaming  of  hereafter,  grudg'd 
Himfelf  the  tafting  of  the  fwects  of  life ; 
And  call'd  it  temperance,  and  liop'd  for  joyj 
More  durable  and  fweet,  beyond  the  grave. 
Vain  is  the  poet's  fong,  the  ibldier's  toil ; 
Vain  is  the  fculptur'd  marble  and  the  buft. 
How  vain  to  hop»  for  never  dying  fame, 
If  fouls  can  die  :   But  that  they  never -die, 
This  thirft  of  glory  whifpers.     Wheiefore  gave 
The  great  Creator  fuch  a  ftrong  defire 
He  never  meant  to  fatisfy.     Thefe  ftone?, 
Memorials  of  the  dead,  with  ruftic  art, 
And  rude  infcripiions  cut,  declare  the  foul 
Immortal.     Man,  form'd  for  eternity, 
Abhors  annihilation,  and  the  thought 
Of  dark  oblivion.     Hence,  with  ardent  wifiV 
And  vigorous  effort,  each  would  fondly  raife 
Some  lafting  monument,  to  fave  his  name 
Safe  from  the  wafte  of  years.  Hence  Cafar  fought; 
Hence  Raphael  painted  ;  and  hence  Milton  fnng. 

Thus  mufing,  fleep  opprefs'd  my  drowfy  fenie, 
And  wrapt  me  into  reft  :  Before  mine  eyes, 
Fair  as  the  morn,  when  up  the  flaming  eaft 
The  fun  afcends,  a  radiant  feraph  flood, 
Crown'd  with  a  wreath  of  palm*  his  golden  hair 
Wav'd  o'er  his  flioulders,  girt  with  fhining  plumes; 
From  which,  down  to  the  ground,  loofe  floating 

trail'd, 

In  graceful  negligence,  his  heavenly  robe : 
Upon  his  face,  flufh'd  with  immortal  youth 
Unfading  beauty  bloom'd,  and  thus  he  fpokf  : 

"  Well  haft  thou  judg'd  ;  the  foul  muft  be  im- 

"  mortal ! 

"  And  that  it  is,  this  awful  day  declares  ; 
"  This  day,  the  laft  that  ere  the  fun  fhall  gild: 
"  Arrefted  by  Omnipotence,  no  more 
"  Shall  he  defcribe  the  year.     The  moon  no  more 
"  Shall  fhed  her  borrow'd  light.     This  is  the  day 
"  Seal'd  in.  the  rolls  of  fate,  when  o'er  the  dead 
"  Almighty  power  fhall  wake,  and  raife  to  life 
"  The  fleeping  myriads.     Now  fhall  be  approv'd, 
"  Thetways  of  God  to  man,  and  all  the  clouds 
"  Of  Providence  be  clear'd ;  now  fhall  be  fhown 
"  Why  vice  in  purple  oft  upon  a  throne 
'  Exalted  fat,  and  fhook  her  iron  fcourge 
'  O'er  virtue,  feated  lowly  on  the  ground. 
'  Now  deeds  committed  in  the  fable  fhade 
'  Of  eyelefs  darknefs,  fhall  be  brought  to  light, 
'  And  every  act  fhall  meet  its  juft  reward." 

As  thus  he  fpoke,  the  morn  arofe,  and  furc 
Methought  ne'er  rofe  ,a  fairer.     Not  a  cloud 
Spotted  the  blue  expanfe,  and  not  a  gale 
Breath'd  o'er  the  furface  of  the 'dewy  earth. 
Twinkling  with  yellow  luftre,  the  gay  birds 
On  every  blooming  fpray  fung  their  fweet  notes, 
And  prais'd  their  great  Creator.     Through  the 

fields  , 

The  lowing  cattle  graz'd,  and  all  around 
Was  beauty,  happincfs,  and  mirth,  and  love. 
"  All  thefethou  feeft,"  (refum'dth'angelicpower), 
"  Nomore  fhall  give'theepleafure.  Thoumuft  leave 
"  This  world,  of  which  now  come  and  fee  the  end." 


APPENDIX. 


This  faid,  he  touch'd  me,  and  fuch  ftrength  in- 

fus'd, 

That  as  he  foared  up  the  pathlefs  air, 
I  lightly  followed.     On  the  awful  peak 
Of  an  eternal  rock,  beneath  whofe  feet 
The  founding  billows  beat,  he  fet  me  down. 
I  heard  a  noiie,  loud  as  a  rufhing  ftream, 
When  o'er  the  rugged  precipice  it  roars, 
And  foaming  thunders  on  the  rocks  below. 
Aftonifbsd,  I  gaz'd  around,  when  lo! 
I  faw  an  angel  down  from  Heaven  defcend. 
His  face  was  as  the  fun,  his  dreadful  height 
Such  as  the  ftatue  by  the  Grecian  plan'd 
Of  Philip's  fon,  Athos,  with  all  his  rocks, 
Moulded  into  a  man.     One  foot  on  earth, 
And  one  upon  the  rolling  fea,  he  fix'd. 
As  when  at  fetting  fun  the  rainbow  fhines 
Refulgent,  meting  out  the  half  of  Heaven, 
So  flood  he ;  and,  in  act  to  fpeak,  he  rais'd 
His  fliining  hand.     His  voice  was  as  the  found 
Of  many  waters,  or  the  deep  mouth'd  roar 
Of  thunder,  when  it  burfts  the  riven  cloud, 
And  bellows  through  the  ether.     Nature  flood 
Silent  in  all  her  works,  while  thus  he  fpake  : 
"  Hear,  thou  that  roll'il  above,  thou  gloriousfun  ; 
ft  Ye  Heavens  and  earth  attend,  while  I  declare 
"  The  will  of  th'  Eternal.     By  his  name 
"  Who  lives,  and  fhall  for  ever  live,  I  fvvear 
'•  That  time  fhall  be  no  longer." 

He  difappear'd.     Fixt  in  deep  thought,  I  flood, 
At  what  would  follow.     Strait  another  found, 
To  which  the  Nile,  o'er  Ethiopia's  rocks, 
Rufhing  in  broad  cataract,  were  nought. 
It  feem'd  as  if  the  pillar  that  upheld 
'The  univerfe,  had  crack'd,  and  all  thefe  worlds 
Unhing'd,  had  flrove  together  for  the  way, 
In  cumbrous  cradling  rum.     Such  the  roar  ! 
A  found  that  might  be  felt !     It  pietc'd  beyond 
The  limits  of  creation.     Chaos  roar'd, 
And  Heaven  and  earth  rettirn'd  the  mighty  noife. 
"  Thou  heard'll,"  faid  then  my  heavenly  guide, 

"  the  found 

"  Of  the  laft  trumpet.  See  where,  from  the  clouds, 
"  Th'  archangel  Michael,  one  of  the  feven 
"  That  minifter  before  the  throne  of  God, 
"  Leans  forward  ;  and  the  fon'rous  tube  infpires 
"  With  breath  immortal.     By  his  fide  the  fvvord- 
"  Which,  like  a  meteor,  o'er  the  vanquifh'd  head 
"  Of  Satan  hung,  when  he  rebellious  rais'd 
"  War,  and  embroil'd  the  happy  fields  above." 

A  paufe  enfu'd  ;  the  fainting  fun  grew  pale, 
And  feem'd  to  druggie  through  a  fky  of  blood  ; 
While  dim  eclipfe  impair'd  his  beam  :  The  earth 
Shook  to  her  deepeft  centre ;  ocean  rag'd, 
And  dafh'd  his  billows  on  the  frighted  fhores. 
All  was  confufion ;  heartlefs,  helplcfs,  wild, 
As  flocks  of  tim'rous  fheep,  or  driven  deer, 
Wand'ring,  the  inhabitants  of  earth  appear 'd. 
Terror  in  every  loek,  and  pale  affright 
Sat  in  each  eye  ;  amazed  at  the  part, 
And  for  the  future  trembling.     All  call'd  great, 
Or  deem'd  illuflrious  by  erring  man, 
Was  now  no  more.     The  hero  and  the  prince 
Their   grandeur  loft,   now    mingling   with   the 

crowd; 

And  all  diflinctions,  thofe  except  from  faith 
And  virtue  flowing.     Thefe  upheld  the  foul, 
As  ribb'd  with  triple  fled.    All  elfc  was  loft  ! 


Now,  vain  is  greatnefs!  as  the  morning  clouds, 
That,  rifing,prom:Yd  rain:   Condens'd  they  ftand, 
Till,  touch'd  by  winds,  they  vanifh  into  air. 
The  farmer  mourns;  fo  mourns  the  haplefs  wretch, 
Who,  caft  by  fortune  from  fome  envy'd  height, 
Finds  nought  within  him  to  fupport  his  fall. 
High  as  his  hope  had  rais'd  him,  low  he  finks 
Below  his  fate,  in  comfortlefs  defpair. 
Who  would  not  laugh  at  an  attempt  to  build          , 
A  lafting  flruciure  on  the  rapid  ftream 
Of  foaming  Tygris  ?  the  foundations  laid 
Upon  the  glaffy  furface  :    Such  the  hopes 
Of  him  \vhofe  views  are  bounded  by  this  world  ; 
tmmur'd  in  his  own  labour'd  work,  he  dreamt 
Himfelf  fecure;  when,  on  a  Hidden,  down, 
Torn  from  its  fandy  ground,  the  fabric  falls! 
He  ftarts,  and,  waking,  finds  himfelf  undone. 

Not  fo  the  man  who  on  religion's  bafe 
His  hope  and  virtue  builds.     Firm  on  the  rock 
Of  ages  his  foundation  laid,  remains 
Abpve  the  frowns  of  fortune  or  her  fmiles, 
In  every  varying  ftate  of  life,  the  fame.       [hopes. 
Nought  fears  he    from  the  world,  and  nothing 
With  unaffuming  courage,  inward  ftrength 
Eudu'd  ;  refign'd  to  Heaven,  he  leads  a  life 
Superior  to  the  common  herd  of  men, 
Whofe  joys,  connected  with  the  changeful  flood 
Of  fickle  fortune,  ebb  and  flow  with  it. 

Nor  is  religion  a  chimera  :  Sure 
'Tis  fomething  real.     Virtue  cannot  live, 
Divided  from  it.     As  a  fever'd  branch, 
It  withers,  pines,  and  dies.     Who  loves  not  God, 
That  made  him,  and  preferv'd,   nay  more,  rc- 

deem'd, 

Is  dangerous.     Can  ever  gratitude 
Bind  him  who  fpurns  at  tbvfe  mod  facred  ties? 
Say,  can  he,  in  the  filent  fcenes  of  life, 
Be  fociable  ?  Can  he  be  a  friend  ? 
At  beft,  he  muft  hut  feign.     The  worft  of  brute* 
An  atheift  is ;  for  beafts  acknowledge  God. 
The  lion,  with  the  terrors  of  hi's  mouth, 
Pays  homage  to  his  Maker;  the  grim  woif, 
At  midnight,  howling,  feeks  his  meat  from  God. 

Again  th'  archangel  rais'd  his  dreadful  voice. 
Earth  trembl'd  at  the  found.     "  Awake  ye  dead, 
"  And  come  to  judgment."  _  At  the  mighty  call* 
As  armies  iflue  at  the  trumpet's  found, 
So  rofe  the  dead.     A  fhaking  fir  ft  I  heard, 
And  bone  together  came  unto  his  bone, 
Though  fever'd  by  wide  feas  and  d'.ftant  lands. 
A  fpirit  liv'd  within  them.     He  who  made, 
Wound  up,  and  fet  in  motion  the  machine, 
To  run  unhurt  the  length  of  fourfcore  years, 
Who  knows  the  ftructure  of  each  fecret  fpring, 
Can  he  not  join  again  the  fever'd  parts, 
And  join  them  with  advantage  ?     This  to  maa 
Hard  and  impoffible  may  feem  ;  to  God 
Is  eafy.     Now,  through  all  the  darken'd  air 
The  living  atoms  flew,  each  to  .his  place, 
And  none  was  miffing  in  the  great  account; 
Down  from  the  duft  of  him  whom  Cain  flew, 
To  him  who  yefterday  was  laid  in  earth, 
And  fcarce  had  feen  corruption ;  whether  in 
The  bladed  grafs  they  cloth'd  the  verdant  plain, 
Or  fmil'd  in  opening  flowers;  or,  in  the  fea, 
Became  the  food  of  monfters  of  the  dtep, 
Or  pafs  in  tranfmigrations  infinite. 
Through  ev'ry  kind  of  being  none  miftakes 


THE   WORKS    OF    BRUCE. 


His  kindred  matter ;  but,  by  fympathy 

Combining,  rather  by  Almighty  power 

Led  on,  they  clofely  mingle  and  unite. 

But,  chang'd,  now  fubjecT:  to  decay  no  more, 

Or  diflblution,  deathlefs  as  the  foul, 

The  body  is ;  and  fitted  to  enjoy 

Eternal  blifs,  or  bear  eternal  pain. 

As  when  in  Spring  the  fun's  prolific  beam» 
Have  wak'd  to  life  the  infecft  tribe  that  fport 
And  wanton  in  his  rays  at  ev'ning  mild, 
Proud  of  their  new  exiftencc,  up  the  air, 
In  devious  circles  »  heeling,  they  afcend, 
innumerable.    The  whole  air  is  dark, 
bo,  by  the  trumpets  rous'd,  the  fons  of  men 
In  countlefs  numbers  cover'd  all  the  ground, 
From  frozen  Greenland  to  the  fouthern  pole. 
All  who  ere  liv'd  on  earth.     See  Lapland's  fons, 
Whofe  zenith  is  the  pole,  a  barbarous  race, 
Rough  as  their  ftorms,  and  favage  as  their  clime, 
Unpolifti'd  ai  their  bears,  and  but  in  fhape 
Diftinguilh'd  from  them.     Reafon's  dying  lamp 
Scarce  brighter  burns  than  inftincl:  in  their  breaft. 
With  wandring  Ruffians,  and  thofe  who  dwelt 
In  Scandinavia,  by  the  Baltic  fea; 
The  rugged  Pole,  with  Pruffia's  warlike  race; 
Germania  yields  her  numbers,  where  the  Rhine 
And  mighty  Danube  pour  their  flowing  urns. 

Behold  tfcy  children,  Britain  !  hail  the  light ; 
A  manly  race,  whofe  bufinefs  was  arms; 
And  long  uncivilized,  yet  train'd  to  deeds 
Of  virtue,  they  withftood  the  Roman  power, 
And  made  their  eagles  droop.  On  Morven's  coafl, 
A  race  of  heroes  and  of  bards  arife. 
The  mighty  Fingal  and  his  mighty  fon, 
Who  laanch'd  the  fpear,  and  touch'd  the  tuneful 

harp ; 

With  Scotia's  chiefs,  the  fons  of  later  years, 
Her  Kenneths  and  her  Malcolms,  warriors  fam'd ; 
Her  gen'rous  Wallace,  and  her  gallant  Bruce, 
See  in  her  pathlefs  wilds,  where  the  grey  ftones 
Are  rais'd  in  mem'ry  of  the  mighty  dead. 
Armies  arife  of  Englifh,  Scots,  and  Pidts ; 
And  giant  Danes,  who,  from  bleak  Norway's  coaft, 
Ambitious  came,  to  conquer  her  fair  fields, 
And  chain  her  fons ;  but  Scotia  gave  them  graves. 
Behold  the  kings  that  fill'd  the  Englifh  throne, 
Edwards  and  Henrys,  names  of  deathlefs  fame, 
Start  from  their  tombs.     Immortal  William,  fee 
Surrounding  angels  point  him  from  the  reft  ; 
Who  fav'd  the  hate  from  tyranny  and  Rom. 
Behold  her  poets,  Shakfpeare,  fancy's  child ; 
Spenfer,  who,  through  his  fmooth  and  moral  tale, 
Ypoints  fair  virtue  out ;  with  him  who  fung 
Of  man's  firft  diiobedience,  Young  lifts  up 
His  awful  head,  and  joys  to  fee  the  day, 
The  great,  th'  important  day  of  which  he  fung. 
Sec  where  imperial  Rome  exalts  her  height : 
Her  fenators  and  gowned  fathers  rife. 
Her  confuls,  who,  as  ants  without  a  king, 
Went  forth  to  conquer  kings;  and  at  their  wheels 
In  triumph  led  the  chiefs  of  diftant  lands. 
Behold,  in  Gamut's  field  what  hoftile  fwarms, 
Buril  from  th'  enfanguin'd  ground  wher*e  Hannibal 
Shook  Rome,  through  all  her  legions :  Italy 
Trembled  unto  the  capital.     If  fate 
Had  not  withftood  th'  attempt,  (he  now  had  bow'd 
Her  head  to  Carthage.     See  Pharfalia  points 
Her  raurdcr'd  thoufitnds,  who  yi  the  laft  itrifc 


Of  Rome,  for  dying  liberty  were  flain, 
To  make  a  man  the  mafter  of  the  world. 

All  Europe's  fons  throng  forward,  numbers  vaft ; 
Imagination  fails  beneath  the  weight. 
What  numbers  yet  remain  !  Th'  enervate  race 
Of  Afia,  from  where  hoary  Tanais  rolls 
O'er  rocks  and  dreary  waftes  his  foaming  ftream, 
To  where  the  eaftern  ocean  thunders  round 
The  fpicy  Java :  with  the  tawny  race 
That  dwelt  in  Afric,  from  the  Red  fea  north 
To  the  Cape  fouth,  where  the  rude  Hottentot 
Sinks  into  brute  ;  with  thofe  who  iong  unknown, 
Till  by  Columbus  found,  a  naked  race, 
And  only  fldil'd  to  urge  the  fyhrcn  war, 
That  peopl'd  the  wide  continent  that  fpreadi 
From  rocky  Zembla,  whiten'd  with  the  fnow 
Of  twice  three  thoufand  years,  fouth  to  the  ftraits 
Nam'd  from  Magellan,  where  the  ocean  roars 
Round  earth's  remoteft  bounds.    Now  had  not  Jie 
The  great  Creator  of  the  univerfe, 
Enlarg'd  the  wide  foundations  of  the  world, 
Room  had  been  wanting  to  the  mighty  crowd 
That  pour'd  from  ev'ry  quarter.     At  his  wordl, 
Obedient  angels  ftretch'd  an  ample  plain, 
Where  dwelt  his  people  in  the  Holy  Land, 
Fit  to  contain  the  whole  of  human  race. 
As  when  the  Autumn  yellow  on  the  fields 
Invites  the  fickle  forth,  the  farmer  fends 
His  fervants  to  cut  down  and  gather  ia 
The  bearded  grain ;  fo  by  Jehovah  fent, 
The  angels,  from  all  corners  of  the  world, 
Led  on  the  living  and  th'  awaken'd  dead 
To  judgmeHt..    As  in  the  Apocalypfe 
John,  gather'd,  faw  the  people  of  the  earth, 
And  kings,  to  Armageddon  :  Now  look  round, 
Thou  whofe  ambitious  heart  for  glory  beats, 
See  all  the  wretched  things  on  earth  call'd  great, 
And  lifted  up  to  gods ;  bow  little  now 
Seems  all  their  grandeur !  See  the  conqueror, 
Mad  Alexander,  who  his  vi&or  arms 
Bore  o'et  the  then  known  globe,  then  fat  him  down 
And  wept,  becaufe  he  had  no  other  world 
To  give  to  defblation.     How  he  droops ! 
He  knew  not,  haplefs  wretch,  he  never  learn'd, 
The  harder  conqueft,  to  fubdue  himfelf. 
Now  is  the  Chriftian's  triumph,  now  he  lifts 
His  head  on  high  ;  while  down  the  dying  heart 
Of  finners  helplefs  fink;  black  guilt  diftradts 
And    wrings   their    tortur'd  .fouls ;    while   cv'ry 

thought 
Is  big  with  keen  remorfe,  or  dark  defpair. 

But  now  a  nobler  fubjedr  claims  the  fongj 
My  mind  recoils  at  the  amazing  theme; 
For  how  fhall  finite  fpeak  of  infinite; 
How  fhall  a  ftripling,  by  the  mufe  untaught, 
Sing  heav'n's  Almighty,  proftrate  at  whofe  feet 
Archangels  fall :  unequal  to  the  talk, 
I  dare  the  bold  attempt ;  affift  me  Heaven. 
Fr«m  thee  began,  with  thee  ftiall  end  the  fong : 
For  now,  down  from  the  op'ning  firmament, 
Seated  upon  a  faphire  throne,  high  rais'd 
Upon  an  azure  ground,  upheld  by  wheels  < 
Of  emblematic  ftrudure,  as  a  wheel 
Had  been  within  9  wheel,  ftudded  with  eye* 
Of  flaming  fire,  and"  by  four  cherubs  led  ; 
I  faw  the  Judge  defcend :  Around  him  canae 
By  thoufands,  and  by  millions,  heaven's  bright  hofl; 
About  him  blaz'd  uafufferablc  light, 


APPENDIX. 


12Z? 


Invifible  as  darknefs  to  the  eye; 
His  car  above  the  mount  of  Olives  ftay'd, 
Where  laft  he  with  his  difciples  convers'd, 
And  left  them  gazing  as  he  foar'd  aloft ; 
He  darkncfs  as  a  curtain  drew  around, 
On  which  the  colours  of  the  rainbow  fhone 
Various  and  bright,  and  from  within  was  heard 
A  voice  as  deep  mouth'd  thunder,  fpcaking  thus  : 
"  Go  Raphael,  and  from  thefe  reprobate, 
Divide  my  chofeii  faints  ;  go  feparate 
My  people  from  among,  as  the  wheat 
'  Is  in  .the  harveft  fever'd  from  the  tares; 
Set  them  upon  the  right,  and  on  the  left 
Leave  thefe  ungodly.     Thou  Michael  choofe 
Forth  from  the  angelic  hoft  a  chofen  band, 
And  Satan  with  his  legions  hither  bring 
To  judgment,  from  hell's  caverns;  whither  fled, 
They  think  to  hide  from  my  awaken'd  wrath, 
Which  chas'd  them  out  heaven,  and  which  they 

"  dread 

"  More  than  the  horrors  of  the  pit,  which  now 
"  Shall  be  redoubl'd  fevenfold  on  their  heads." 

Swift  as  conception,  at  his  bidding  flew 
His  miniflers,  obedient  to  his  nod; 
And  as  a  fhepherd  who  all  day  hath  fed 
His  fheep  and  goats  promifcuous,  but  at  eve 
Dividing  fhuts  them  up  in  different  folds. 
So  now  the  good  was  parted  from  the  bad ; 
For  ever  parted ;  never  more  to  join 
And  mingle  as  on  earth,  where  often  pafs'd 
For  other  each,  ev'n  clofe  hypocrify 
Efcapes  not,  but  unmafk'd,  alike  the  fcorn 
Of  vice  and  virtue,  ftands  now  feparate. 
Upon  the  right  appear'd  a  dauntlefs,  firm, 
Compofed  number,  joyful  at  the  thought 
Of  immortality,  they  forward  look'd 
With  hope  into  the  future ;  confcience  pleas'd, 
Smiling  refle&s  upon  a  well  fpent  life  ; 
Heav'n  dawns  within  their  breaft.  The  other  crew 
Pale  and  dejected,  fcarce  lift  up  their  heads 
To  view  the  hated  light ;  his  trembling  hand 
Each  lays  upon  his  guilty  face,  and  now 
In  gnawings  of  the  never  dying  worm, 
Began  a  hell  that  never  fhall  be  quench  d. 

But  now  the  enemy  of  God  and  man, 
Ourfing  his  fate,  comes  forward,  led  in  chains 
Infrangible  of  burning  adamant, 
Hewn  from  the  rocks  of  hell,  with  all  the  bands 
Of  rebel  angels,  who  long  time  had  walk'd 
The  world,  and  by  their  oracles  deceiv'd 
The  blinded  nations ;  or  by  fecret  guile 
Wrought  men  to  vice,  came  on,  raging  in  vain, 
And  ftruggling  with  their  fetters,  which,  as  fate 
Compell'd    them  faft,  they  wait  their  dreadful 

doom. 

Now  from  his  lofty  throne,  with  eyes  that  blaz'd 
Intolerable  day,  th'  Almighty  Judge 
Look'd  down  awhile  upon  the  lubjecl:  crowds  ; 
As  when  a  caravan  of  merchants  led 
By  thirft  of  gain  to  travel  the  parch'd  fands 
Of  wafte  Arabia,  hears  a  lion  roar, 
The  wicked  trembled;  at  his  view,  upon 
The  ground  they  roll'd  in  pangs  of  wild  defpair, 
To  hide  their  faces,  which  not  blufhes  mark'd, 
But  livid  horror;  confcience,  who  afleep 
L,ong  time  had  lain,  now  lifts  her  fnaky  head, 
And  frights  them  into  madnefs,  while  the  lift 
Of  all  Ujcir  fins  il\c  offers  to  jjicy-  view  j 


For  (he  had  power  to  hurt  them,  and  her  fting 
Was  as  a  fcorpion's :  He  who  never  knew 
Its  wound  is  happy,  though  a  fetter'd  Have 
Chain'd  to  the  oar,  or  to  the  dark  damp  mine 
Confin'd,  while  he  that  fits  upon  a  throne- 
Under  her  frown,  is  wretched.     But  the  damn'd 
Alone  can  tell  what  'tis  to  feel  her  fcourge, 
In  all  its  horrors,  with  her  poifon'd  ftirig 
Fix'd  in  their  hearts.     This  is  the  Second  Death. 

Upon  the  book  of  life  he  laid  his  hand, 
Clos'd  with  the  feal  of  heaven,  which  op'i,  he 

read 

The  names  of  the  cleft ;  God  knows  his  ewn, 
Come  (looking  on  the  right  he  fmiling  faid), 
Ye  of  my  Father  bleffed  ;  ere  this  world 
Was  moulded  out  of  chaos ;  ere  the  fon$ 
Of  God  exulting  fung  at  nature's  birth; 
For  you  1  left  my  throne,  my  glory  left, 
And  fhrouded  up  in  clay,  I  weary  walk  d 
Your  world,  and  many  miferies  endur'd; 
Death  was  the  laft.     For  you  I  died,  that  you 
Might  live  with  me  for  ever,  and  in  heav'n  fit 
On  thrones,  and  as  the  fun  in  brightnefs,  fhine 
For  ever  in  my  kingdom :  Faithfully 
Have  ye  approv'd  yourfelves ;  I  huagry  was, 
And  thirfty,  and  ye  gave  me  meat  and  drink  ; 
Ye  cloth'd  me  naked ;  when  I  fainting  lay, 
Ye  cheer'd  me  with  the  tendernefs  of  friends ; 
In  fkknefs  and  in  prifon  me  reliev'd : 
Nay,  marvel  not  that  thus  I  fpeak,  when  e'er 
Led  by  the  di<Sates  of  fair  charity, 
Ye  help'd  the  man  on  whom  keen  poverty 
And  wretchednefs  had  laid  their  meagre  hands, 
And  for  my  fake,  ye  did  it  unto  me. 
They  heard  with  joy,and  fhouting  rais'd  their  voice 
In  praife  of  the  Redeemer ;  loos'd  from  earth 
They  foar'd  triumphant,  and  at  the  right  hand 
Of  the  great  Judge  fat  down  ;  who  on  the  left 
Now  looking  ftern,  with  fury  in  his  eyes, 
Blafted  their  fpirits,  while  his  arrows  fix'd 
Deep  in  their  hearts,  in  agonizing  pain 
Scerch'd  their  vitals,  thus  their  dreadful  doom, 
(More  dreadful  from  the  lips  that  us'd  to  blifs) 
He  awfully  pronounced ;  earth  at  his  frown 
Convulfive  trembled,  while  the  raging  deep 
Hufh'd  in  a  horrid  calm  his  waves.    Depart, 
(Thefe,    for  I  heard   them,   were   his   dreadfri 

words!) 

Depart  from  me,  ye  curs'd !  Oft  have  I  drove 
In  tendernefs.  and  pity  to  fubdue 
Your  rebel  hearts ;  as  a  fond  parent  bird 
When  danger  threatens,  flutters  o'er  her  younj, 
Nature's  fond  implufe  beating  in  her  breaft  ; 
Thus  ardent  did  I  ftrive,  but  all  in  vain, 
Now  will  I  laugh  at  your  calamity, 
And  mock  your  fears ;  as  oft  in  ftupid  mirth, 
Harden'd  in  wickednefs,  ye  pointed  out 
The  man  who  labour'd  up  the  fteep  afcent 
Of  virtue,  to  reproach.     Depart  to  fire, 
Kindled  in  Tophet  for  the  arch  enemy, 
For  Satan  and  his  angels ;  who  by  pride 
Fell  into  condemnation  ;  blown  up  now 
To  fevenfold  fury  by  th'  Almighty  breath  ; 
There  in  that  dreary  manfion,  where  the  light 
Is  folid  gloom,  darknefs  that  may  be  felt, 
Where  hope,  the  lenient  of  the  ills  of  life 
For  ever  dies ;  there  (hall  ye  feck  for  death, 
And  fjwll  not  fifld  it,  for  your  greateft  cwfe 


ml 

Is  immortality ;  Omnipotence 
Eternally  fliall  punifh  and  prefervc. 

So  faid  he,  and  his  hands  high  lifted,  hurl'd 
The  flafhing  lightning  and  the  flaming  bolt 
Full  on  the  wicked,  kindling  in  a  blaze 
The  (torched  earth,  behind,  before,  around, 
The  trembling  wretches  buril  the  quiv'ring  flame s: 
They  turn'd  to  fly,  but  wrath  divine  purfu'd 
To  where  beyond  creation's  utmoft  bound, 
Where  never  glimpfc  of  cheerful  light  arriv'd, 
Where  fcarce  e'en  thought  can  travel,  but  abforb'd, 
Falls  headlong  down  th'  immeafureable  gulf 
Of  chaos  wide,  and  wild  their  prifon  flood 
Of  utter  darknefs,  as  the  horrid  fhade 
That  clouds  the  brow  of  death,  its  open'd  mouth 
Belch'd  fheets  of  livid  flame  and  pitchy  fmoke  ; 
Infernal  thunders  with  expulfion  dire 
Roar'd  through  the  firey  concave,  while  the  waves 
Of  liquid  fulphur  beat  the  burning  fliore 
In  tndlcfs  ferment ;  o'er  the  dizzy  flcep 
Sufpended,  wrapt  in  fuflbcating  g  loom, 
The  fons  of  black  damnation  {bricking  hung. 
Curfes  unutterable  fill'd  their  mouth, 
Hideous  to  hear,  their  eyes  rain'd  bitter  tears 
Of  agonizing  madnefs,  for  their  day 
Was  paft,  and  from  their  eyes  repentance  hid 
For  ever  !  Round  their  heads  their  hiffing  brand 
Tke  furies  wav'd,  and  o'er  the  whelming  brink 
Impetuous  urg'd  them,  in  the  beating  furge 
They  headlong  fell ;  the  flafhing  biHows  roar'd, 
And  hell  from  all  her  caves  re-echo'd  back ; 
The  gates  of  flint  and  tenfold  adamant, 
With  bars  of  fteel,  impenetably  firm, 
Were  (hut  forever :  The  decree  of  fate 
immutable  made  faft  the  pond'rous  door. 

•'  Now  turn  your  eyes."my  bright  conductor  faid, 
"  Behold  the  world  in  flames,  fo  fore  the  bolts 
Of  thunder  lauuth'd  by  the  Almighty  arm 
Hath  fmote  upon  it:  up  the  blackened  air 
Afcend  the  curling  flames  and  billowy  fmoke, 
And  hideous  crackling  bloat  the  face  of  day 
With  foul  eruption ;  from  their  inmoft  beds 
The  hiding  waters  rife,  whatever  drew 
The  vital  air,  or  in  die  fpacious  deep  [crafh  : 

Wanton'd  at  large,   expires.     Heard'ft  thou  that 
There  fell  the  tow'ring  Alps,  and  dafhing  down 
Lay  bare  the  centre :  fee  the  flaming  mines 
Expand  their  treafures,  no  rapacious  hand 
To  feize  the  precious  bane :  Now  look  around. 
S^y,  canft  thou  tell  where  flood  imperial  Rome, 
The  wonder  of  the  world,  or  where  the  hoaft 
Of  Europe,  fair  Britannia,  ftretch'd  her  plain 
Lncircl'd  by  the  ocean.     All  is  want, 
Is  darknefs.     As  (if  great  may  be  compar'd 
"With  frhall),  when,  o'er  Gommorah's  fated  field 
The  flaming  fulphur,  by  Jehovah  rain'd, 
Sent  up  a  pitchv  cloud,  killing  to  life, 
And  tainting  all  the  air.     Another  groan, 

Twas  Nature's  laft  ;  and  fee  th'  extinguifli'd  fun, 
11s  devious  through  the  void,  and  the  fair  face 

Nature  is  no  more  :  with  fullen  joy 
Old  Chaos  views  the  havcck,  and  expecls 
To  ftretch  his  fable  fceptre  o'er  the  blank 
Where  once  Creation  fmil'd,  o'er  which  perhaps, 
Creative  energy  again  fliall  wake, 
And,  into  being  call  a  brighter  fun, 
And  faucr  worlds,  which  for  delightful  change, 


T  REWORKS    OF   BRUCE. 


The  faints,  defcending  from  the  happy  feats 
Of  blifs,  fliall  vifit.     And  behold  they  rife 
And  feek  their  native  land  ;  around  them  rife 
In  radiant  files  Heave'n's  hoft,  immortal  wreaths 
Of  Amaranth  and  roles  crown  their  head, 
And  each  a  branch  of  ever-blooming  palm 
In  triumph  holds.     In  robes  of  dazzling  white, 
Fairer  than  that  by  wint'ry  tempefts  fhed, 
Upon  the  frozen  ground,  array'd  they  iliine, 
Fair  as  the  fun,  when  up  the  fteep  of  heaven 
He  rides  in  all  the  majefty  of  light. 
But  who  can  tell,  and  though  an  angel  could, 
Thou  couldft  not  hear  the  glories  of  the  place, 
For  their  abode  prepar'd.     Though  oft  on  earth 
They  ftruggPd  hard  againft  the  ilormy  tide 
-Of  adverfe  fortune,  and  the  bitter  fcorn 
Of  harden'd  villany,  theif  life  a  courfe 
Of  warfare  upon  earth,  thefe  toils,  when  view'd 
With  the  reward,  feem  nought :  The  Lord  fliaU 

guide 

Their  heps  to  living  fountains,  and  fliall  wipe 
All  tears  froin  ev'ry  eye  :  The  wfnt'ry  clouds 
That  frown'd  on  life,  rack  up.    A  glorious  fun 
That  ne'er  fhall  fet,  arifes  in  a  fky 
Unclouded  and  ferene  ;  their  joy  is  full, 
And  ficknefs,  pain,  and  death,  mail  be  no  more. 

Doft  thou  defire  to  follow  ?  does  thy  heart 
Beat  ardent  for  the  prize  ?  then  tread  the  path 
Religion  points  to  men.     What  thou  haft  feen, 
Fix'd  in  thy  heart  retain,  for,  be  affur'd, 
In  that  lait  moment,  in  the  doling  act 
Of  nature's  drama,  ere  the  hand  of  Fate 
Drop  the  black  curtain,  thou  muft  bear  thy  part 
And  ftand  in  thine  own  lot.'' 

This  laid,  he  ftretch'd 
His  wings,  and,  in  a  moment,  left  my  fight. 

Jan.  7. 1766. 

PHILOCLES : 

AN  ELEGY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  WILLIAM 
DRYBURGM  *. 

WAITING,  I  fit  on  Leven's  fandy  fliore, 
And  fadly  tune  the  reed  to  founds  of  woe,- 

Once  more  I  call  Melpomene  !  once  more 
Spontaneous  teach  the  weeping  verfe -to  flow. 

The  weeping  verfe  fhali  flow  in  friendfliip'sname, 
Which  frindfliip  afks,  and  friendfliip  fain  would 

.     Pav; 

The  weeping  verfe  which  worth  and  genius  claim ; 
Begin  then,  mufe  '.  begin  the  mournful  lay. 

Aided  by  thee,  I'll  twine  a  ruftic  wreath 

Of  faireft   flowers,   to  deck  the   grafs-grown 
grave 

Of  Philocles,  cold  in  the  bed  of  death, 

And  mourn  the  gentle  youth  I  could  not  fave. 

Where  lordly  Forth  divides  the  fertile  plains, 
With  ample  fweep,  a  fea  from  fide  to  Jide; 

A  rocky  bound  his  racing  courfe  reilrains, 
Forever  lafh'd  by  the  refounding  tide. 

There  ftands  his  tomb  upon  the  fea^beat  fliore, 
Afar  diicern'd  by  the  rough  failor's  eye, 

*  Communicated  by  the  Rcy.  Dr.  Bair.dt. 


APPENDIX. 


Who,  patting,  weeps,  and  flops  the  fourding  oar, 
And  points  where  Piety  and  Virtue  lie. 

Like  the  gay  palm  on  Kabbah's  fair  domains, 
A  cedar  fhadowing  Carmei's  flow'ry  fide  ; 

Or,  like  the  upright  afh  on  Britain's  plains, 
Which  waves  its  ftately  arms  in  youthful  pride. 

So  flourith'd  Philocles ;  and  as  the  hand 

Of  ruthlefs  woodman  lays  their  honours  low, 

He  felt  in  youth's  fair  bloom  by  Fate's  command, 
'Twas  Fate  that  (truck,  'tis  ours  to  mourn  the 
blow. 

Alas '.  we  fondly  thought  that  Heav'n  defign'd 
His  bright  example  mankind  to  improve  ; 

All  they  fhould  be,  was  pictur'd  in  his  mind, 
His  thoughts  were  virtue,  and  his  heart  was 
love. 

Calm  as  a  fummer's  fun's  unruffl'd  face, 

He  look'd  unmov'd  on  life's  precarious  game, 

And  fmil'd  at  mortals  toiling' in  the  chai'e 
Of  empty  phantoms,  opulence  and  fame. 

Steady  he  follow'd  virtue's  onward  path, 

Inflexible  to  error's  devious  way, 
And  firm  at  laft  in  hope  and  fixed  faith, 

Through  death's  dark  vale  he  trod  without  dif- 
may. 

Thy  gloomy  vale  he  trod,  relentlefs  death  '. 

Where  wafte  and  horrid  defolation  reigri, 
The  tyrant  humbl'd,  there  refigns  his  wrath, 

The  wretch  elated,  there  forgets  his  pain. 
There  fleeps  the  infant,  and  the  hoary  head, 

Together  lie  the  oppreffor  and  the  opprefs'd  ; 
There  dwells  the  captive,  free  among  the  dead  ; 

There  Philocles,  and  there  the  weary  reft. 
The  curtains  of  the  grave  faft  drawn  around, 

Till  the  loud  trumpet  wake  the  fleep  of  death, 
With  dreadful  clangor  through  the  world  refound, 

Shake  the  firm  globe,  and  burft  the  vaults  be 
neath. 

Then  Philocles  fhall  rife,  to  glory  rife, 
And  his  Redeemer,  for  himfelf,  fhall  fee  ; 

With  him  in  triumph  mount  th'  azure  Ikies, 
For  where  he  is  his  followers  fhall  be. 

Hence  then  thefe  fighs  !  and  whence  this  falling 
tear, 

To  fad  remembrance  of  his  merit  juft  ? 
Still  ruuft  I  mourn,  for  he  to  me  was  dear, 

And  ftill  is  dear,  though  buried  in  the  duft. 

LOCHLEVEN  NO  MORE. 

TO  THI  TUNE  OF    "LOCHABER  NO  MORE." 

FAREWEL  to  Lochleven  and  Gairny'sfair  ftream, 
How  fweet,  on  its  banks,  of  my  Peggy  to  dream  ; 
But  now  I  muft  go  to  a  far  diftant  fhore, 
And  I'll  may  be  return  to  Lochleven  no  more. 

Ko  more  in  the  fpring  fhall  I  walk  with  my  dear 
Where  gowans  bloom  bonny,  and  Gairny  runs 

clear, 

Far  hence  muft  I  wander,  my  pleafures  are  o'er, 
Since  I'll  fee  my  dear  maid  and  Lochleven  no 

more. 


No  more  do  1  fing,  Cnce  far  from  my  delight, 
But  in  fighs  fpend  the  day  and  in  tears  the  long 

night ; 

By  Devon's  dull  current  ftretch'd  mourning  I'll  lie, 
While  the  hills  and  the  woods  to  niy  mourning 

reply. 

But  wherever  I  wander,  by  night  or  by  day, 
True  love  to  my  Peggy  ftill  with  me  lhall  ftay; 
And  ever  and  ay  my  lofs  I'll  deplore, 
Till  the  woodlands  re.-echo  Lochleven  no  more. 
Though  from  her  far  diftant,  to  her  I'll  be  true, 
And  ftill  my  fond  heart  keep  her  image  in  view  : 

0  could  I  obtain  het\  my  griefs  were  all  o'er, 

1  would  mourn  the  dear   maid  and  Lochleven  no 

more. 

But  if  Fate  has  decreedwt  ne'er  fhall  be  fo, 
Then  grief  fliall  attend  me  wherever  I  go ; 
Till  from  life's  ftormy  fea  I  reach  death's  filent 

fhore, 
Then  I'll  think  upon  her  and  Lochleven  no  more. 

ELEGIAC  VERSES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF 
MICHAEL  BRUCE*. 

WHY  vainly  bid  the  animated  buft, 

Why  bid  the  monumental  pile  to  rife, 
Too  often  genius,  doom'd  by  fate  unjuft, 

Unnotic'd  lives,  unwept,  unhonour'd  dies ! 
Too  oft  the  poet  in  whofe  facred  breaft, 

With  ardour  glow  the  mufe's  purefl  fires, 
Contemn'd  by  pride,  by  penury  oppreft, 

In  anguifh  lives,  and  in  neglect,  expires ! 
Too  oft,  alas  !  in  fome  fequefter'd  ground, 

Silent  and  cold  the  poet's  afhes  fleep, 
No  pomp  of  funeral  is  feen  around, 

No  parafite  to  praife,  no  friend  to  weep  ! 
Such,  Bruce,  the  feelings  in  my  breaft  that  rife, 

While  guided  by  the  mufe  I  wander  near, 
M:irk  the  lone  fpot  where  youthful  genius  lies, 

And  give  thy  fate  the  tribute  of  a  tear. 
Oblctire  thy  birth,  yet  in  thy  early  breaft. 

How  deep  and  ardent  glovv'd  the  nitifes  flame, 
How  ftrongly  in  thy  bofom  was  impreft 

The  poet's  genius,  and  the  poet's  fame  ! 
Such  was  thy  fame,  but,  ah  !.  upon  thy  frame 

Difeafe  relentlefs  urg'd  its  growing  way-, 
FJed  was  each  joy  of  health,  each  hope  of  fame, 

And  thou  the  victim  of  a  flow  decay : 
Like  fome  fair  flower,  that  owes  the  defert  birth, 

Whofe  buds  foretell  the  beauty  of  its  prime, 
But  finks  unfhelter'd,  finks  uufeen  to  earth, 

Chill'd  by  the  blaft,  or  crept  before  its  time! 
Perhaps  thus  blafted  by  unfriendly  doom, 

Thy  genius  fofter'd  in  a  milder  air, 
Matur'd  by  age  in  all  the  pride  of  bloom, 

Had  fpread  luxuriant,  and  had  fiourinVd  fair  I 
But,  ah,  no  more  the  poet  now  remains, 

Cold  is  the  breaft  that  glovv'd  with  facred  fire, 
Mute  is  the  tongue  that  flow'd  in  tuneful  {trains, 

Check'd  is  the  hand,  and  filent  is  the  lyre  ! 
For  him,  who  now  laments  thy  early  tomb, 

Like  thee  infpir'd  with  youthful  love  of  lays, 
Though  now  he  mourns,  he  foon  may  fhare  thy 
doom,  • 

May  foon  require  the  tribute  which  he  pays. 

*  Reprinted  from  tie  fourth  volume  of  tie  A'jlum 
for  Fugitive  l'i:ics. 

4 


CONTENTS. 


WORKS  OF  WILKIE. 


p 

THE  Author's  Life,         .... 

THE  EPICONIAD. 

age 
iii. 

Page 
Fable  III.  The  Mufe  and  the  Shepherd,  .  j8 
Fable  IV.  The  Gra(hopper  and  the  Glow- 

Preface,           -        -        - 

I 

Fable  V.  The  Ape,  the  Parrot,  and  the  Jack- 

Book  I.            ...... 
Book  11.          ...... 
Book  III.         
Book  IV          _-.-.. 

y 
13 
17 

21 

Fable  VI.  The  Boy  and  the  Rainbow,  -  6t 
Fable  VII.  Celia  and  her  Mirror,  -  -  6* 
Fable  VIII.  The  Fifliennen.  —  Imitated  from 

Book  V.           _..-.. 

*7 

Theocritus,  -  _  -  ^  .  63 
Fable  IX.  Cupid  and  the  Shepherd,  -  64 

Book  VII.        
Book  Vlir.      _-.-,- 

Tlr>«t-    IV 

33 
3* 
45 

Fable  X.  The  Swan  and  the  other  Birds,  -  65 
Fable  XI.  The  Lover  and  his  Friend.—  To 

A  Dream.     In  the  manner  of  Spenfer, 

FABLES. 

Dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale, 
Fable  I.  The  Young  Lady  and  the  Looking- 
glafs,            -         -         -         - 
Fable  II.  The  Kite  and  the  Rooks,     - 

5° 
54 

J6 

ib. 

57 

Fable  XII.  The  Rake  and  the  Hermit,         -     66 
Fable  XI  FI.  Phoebus  and  the  Shepherd,        -     67 
Fable  XIV.  The  Breeze  and  the  Tempeft,        6$ 
Fable  XV.  The  Crow  and  the  other  Birds.  — 
Containing  an  ufeful  hint  to  the  Critics,       70 
Fable  XVI.  The  Hare  and  the  Partan,        -     ib. 

A  dialogue.  The  Author  and  a  Friend,  -  ?a 

WORKS  OF  DODSLEY. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 

-     77 


AGRICULTURE:  A  POEM. 


Preface, •    -  83 

Canto  I.            -         •»         -         -    .    -         -  ib. 

Canto  II.          ..----  87 

Canto  Itr.         ..-.--  91 
Melpomene  :  or,  The  Regions  of  Terror  and 

Pity.     An  Ode,             -         -         -         -  96 
The  Art  of  Preaching.   In  Imitation  of  Ho 
race's  Art  of  Poetry,     -         -         -         -98 
An  Epiftle  to  Mr.  Pope,  occafioned  by  his 

Effay  on  Man,       -         ....  jea 

On  Good  and  Ill-Nature.  To  Mr.  Pope,      -  103 

The  Cafe  of  Pope.  A  Prophecy,          -         -  ib. 

On  the  Death  of  Mr.  Pope,       -         -         -  ib. 

Modern  Reafoning,  An  Epiftlc^         -        -  ib. 


Page 

Religion.  A  Simile,           -         -  -  -  105 

Pain  and  Patience.  An  Ode,      -  -  -     ib. 

Kitty.  A  Paftoral,             -         -  -  -  106 

COLIN'S  KISSES. 

Song  I.  The  Tutor,          ....  107 

Song  II.   The  Imaginary  Kifs,  -  -     ib. 

Song  III-  The  Feaft,         -         -  -  -     ib. 

Song  IV.  The  Stolen  Kifs,         -  -  -     ib. 

Song  V.  The  Meeting  Kift,      -  -  .     ib. 

Song  VI.  The  Parting  Kifs,       -  -  -     ib. 

Song  VII.  The  Borrowed  Kifs,  *    .  -  108 

Song  VIII.  The  Kifs  Repaid,  -  -     ib. 

Song  IX.  The  Secret  Kifs,        -  -  -     ib. 

Song  X.  The  Rapture,               -  ib. 

Song  XI.  The  Reconciling  Kifs,  -  -     ib. 

Soog  XII,  The  Mutual  Kif»,  -  -     ib. 


CONTENTS. 


The  Wife.  A  Fragment,          • 

Rome's  Pardon.  A  Tale, 

An  Epiftle  to  Stephen  Duck,  at  his  firft  com 
ing  to  Court,  • 

An  Epitaph,  - 

To  Riches.  Humbly  infcribed  to  the  Right 
Hon.v. - 

The  Petition,          - 

An  Epithalamium,  - 

The  Advice.  -         - 

A  Lamentable  Cafe.  Submitted  to  the  Bath 
Phyficians,  -  "\  '  " 


Page 

109 

ib. 

no 

ib. 

ib. 

112 

ib. 
ib. 

ib. 


A  Lady's  Salutation  to  her  Garden  in  the 

Country,  - 

The  Progrefs  of  Love.  A  Song,        -         - 
Song,  - 

An   Epigram.     OccaConed   by  the    word 

"  one  Prior,"  in   the  fecond  volume  of 

Bjftiop  Burnet's  Hiftory,      -         - 
An  Epigram,  -          - 

The  Kings  of  Europe.  A  Jeft,  -         - 

Verfes  on  the  Author's  firft  arrival  at  the 

Leafowen,  I754>          -         -         •         - 


Page 


ib. 

ib, 


ib. 
ib. 
ib. 

ib. 


WORKS  OF  SMART. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-     "7 


Ode  I.  Idlenefs,  -        -        -»    ib. 

Ode  II.  To  Ethelinda,  on  her  doing  my  Ver 
fes  the  honour  of  wearing  them  in  her 
bofom. — Written  at  Thirteen,  -  -  ib. 

Ode  III.  On  an  Eagle  confined  in  a  College- 
court.  ib. 

Ode  IV.  On  the  fudden  Death  of  a  Clergy 
man,  _..---  128 

Ode  V.  Good  Nature,  ib. 

Ode  VI.  On  111  Nature,  -         -         -      ib. 

Ode  VII.  To  the  Rev.  and  Learned  Dr. 
Webfter,  occafioned  by  his  Dialogues  on 
Anger  and  Forgivenefs,  -  -  -  129 

Ode  VIII.  Epithalamium,         -         ~       *-       ib. 

Ode  IX.  The  Author  apologizes  to  a  Lady, 
for  his  being  a  little  Man,  -  -  -  130 

Ode  X.  On  the  a6th  of  January,  being  the 

Birth  Day  of  a  Young  Lady,  -  -  ib. 

Ode  XI.  On  taking  a  Bachelor's  Degree.— 

In  allufion  to  Horace,  Book  III.  Ode  30,  131 

Ode  XII.  A  Morr.ing  Piece;  or,  an  Hymn 
for  the  Hay-Makers,  -  -  ib 

Ode  XIII.  A  Noon  Piece;  or,  the  Mowers 
at  Dinner,  -  -  -  -  -  -  ib. 

Ode  XIV.  A  Night  Piece;  or,  Modern 
Philofophy,  -  131 

Ode  XV.  To  Mifs  ****,        -        -         -       ib. 

Ode  XVI.  On  the  jth  of  December,  being 
the  Birth-Day  of  a  beautiful  Young  Lady,  133 

Ode  for  Mufic,  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day,  -       ib. 

Preface,        --..__      jb. 

Hymn  to  the  Supreme  Being,  on  Recovery 
from  a  Dangerous  Fit  of  lllnefs.     To  Dr.  ' 
James,  -  .....     j36 

On  the  Eternity  of  the  Supreme  Being,     -     137 
On  the  Immet  fity  of  the  Supreme  Being,         130 
On  the  Omnilcitnce  of  the  Supreme  Being. 
Aucriffed  to  the  Moft  Reverend    his 


Page 

Grace  the  Lord  Archbilhop  of  Canter 
bury,         ...  _  14® 

On  the  Power  of  the  Supreme  Being,         -     14! 

On  the  Goodnefs  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Ad- 
drefled  to  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl 
of  Darlington,  _  -  -  -  143 


THE  BOP  GARDEN.    A  GEORGIC. 


Book  I. 
Bock  II. 


-  144 

-  147 


THE  HILLIAD.    AN  EPIC  POEM. 


Letter  to  a  Friend  at  the  Univerfity  of  Cam 

bridge,  ._-_._  150 
The  Anivver,  -  -  -  -  -  iji 
Book  I.  -  -  -  -  .  -151 
Notes  on  the  Hiiliad,  -  -  -  -  ijj 


The  Judgment  of  Midas.  A  Mafque. 


-     161 


Reafon  and  Imagination.  A  Fable,  -  -  i6z 
New  Verfionof  Pfalm  CXLV11I.  -  -  163 
Ode  to  Lord  Barnard,  on  his  Accefiion  to 

that  title,  .  164 

Ode  to  Lady  Harriot,      -         -         -         -   .   ib. 
Ode  to  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  on  his 
being  appointed  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ire 
land,  presented  on  the  Birth-Day  of  Lady 
Warkworth,  ib. 

The  Sweets  of  Evening,  -  165 

Ode  to  a  Virginian  Nightingale,  which  was 
cured  of  a  Fit  in  the  Bofom  of  a  young 
Lady,  who  afterwards  nurfed  the  Author 
in  a  Dangerous  lllnefs,          -        -         -       ib. 
Martial,  Book  I.  Ep.  XXVI.  -         -       ib. 

On  a  Lady  throwing  Snow-Balls  at  her  Lo 
ver.  From  the  Latin  of  Petronius  Afca- 
nius,  -  _  -  -  .  ib. 

FABLES. 

Fable  I.  The  Wholefale  Critic  and  the  Hop- 
Merchant,  .....  ib. 

Fable  II.  The  Englifti  Bull  Dog,  Dutch 
Maftiff,  and  Quail,  •  .  -  i(jf 


CONTENTS. 


Epiftle  to   Mrs.  Tyler,  ... 

To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Powell,  on  the  Non-per- 
mance  of  a  promifc  he  made  the  Author 
of  a  Hare,  ..... 

EPIGRAMS. 

Epigram  I.  The  Sick  Monkey, 
Epigram  II.  Apollo  and  Daphne, 
j.pi2;ram  III.    The  Mifer  and  the  Moufc. 
From  the  Greek,  .... 

Epigram  IV.  On  a  Woman  who  v/as  fing- 
ing  Ballads  for  Money  to  bury  her  Hul- 
bar.d.  ...... 

To. -he  Ri  At  Kwcawblc  Earl  of  Darling. 
VOL.  XI. 


Page 

Fkble  III.  Fafhion  and  Night,  -        -     167 

Fable  IV.   Where's  the  Poker,  -         -       ib. 

Fable  V.    The   Tea-Pot   and    Scrubbing- 

Brufh, 168 

Fable  VI.  The  Ducllift,  -         -         -       ib. 

FaMe  VII.    The  Country  Squire  and  the 

Mandrake,  -          -          -  169 

Fable  VIII.  The  Brocaded  Gown  and  Linen 

Rag. ib. 

Fable  IX.  Madam  and  the  Mairpie,  -  -  -170 

Fab!-?  X.  The  Blockhead  and  Beehive,  ib. 

Fable  XI.  The  Citizen  and  the  Red  Lion 

of  Brentford,       - 

Fable  XII.  The  Herald  and  Huftnndman, 
Fable  XHI.  A  Story  of  a  Cock  and  a  Bull, 
Fable  XIV.  The  Snake,  the  Goofe,  and 

Nightingale.     Humbly  addreffed  to  the 

Hiffcrs   and    Catcallers   attending   both 

Houfes,  ..._.-  ib. 
Fable  XV.  Mrs.  Abigail  and  the  Dumb 

Waiter.  -.„___  jb. 
Fable  XVI.  The  Bag-Wig  and  the  Tobac- 

co-p.pe,  .....     174 

Fable  XVII.  Care  and  Gencrofity,  -       ib. 

Fable  XV11I.  The  Pig,  -         -         -     175 

BALLADS. 

Ballad  T.  Sweet  William,  -  ib. 

Ballad  II.  The  Lafs  with  the  Golden  Locks,  ib. 
Ballad  III.  On  my  Wife's  Birth-Day,  -  176 
Ballad  IV.  The  Decifion,  -  -  -  ib. 
Ballad  V.  The  Talkative  Fair,  -  -  ib. 

Ballad  VI.  The  Silent.  Fair,  -  -  -  ib. 
Ballad  VII.  The  Force  of  Innocence. — To 

MifsC.*****,  -  _  .  .  ib. 

Ballad  VIII.  The  Diftreffed  Damfel,  -  177 

Ballad  IX.  The  Fair  Reclufe,  -  -  ib. 

Ballad  X.  To  Mifs  ****,  one  of  the  Chi- 

chefter  Graces.    Written  in  Greenwood 

Gardens,  Sept.  1750,  -  -  -  ib. 

Ballad  XI.  Lovely  Harriot.  A  Crambo 

Ballad, ib. 

Ballad  XII.  To  Jenny  Gray,  -  -  178 

Ballad  XIII.  To  M.fs  Kitty  Bennet  and  her 

Cat  Crop,  ib. 

Ballad  XIV.  The  Pretty  Bar-Keeper  of  the 

Mitre.  Written  at  College,  1741,  -  ib. 
Ballad  XV.  The  Widow's  Refolution.  A 

Cantata,  .... 


i/9 
ib. 

1 80 


ib. 

ib. 

ib. 


ton,  on  his  being  appointed  Paymafterof 
his  Majefly's  Purees,  - 

On  the  Death  of  Mr  Ncwberry, after  a  ling 
ering  Illnefs,  .  ..... 

Epitaph  on  the  Rev.  Mr.  Reynolds,  at  St. 
Peter'*  in  the  Ifle  of  Thanet, 

To  my  Worthy  Friend  Mr.  T.  B.  one  of 
the  People  called  Quakers.  Written  in 
his  Garden,  July  1754,  - 

On  feeing  the  Pidture  of  Mifs  R —  G — a'. 
Prawn  by  Mr.  Varelft,  of  Threadneedle- 
ftreet,  ---_._ 

An  Invitation  to  Mrs.  Tyler,  a  Clergyman'* 
Lady,  to  Dine  upon  a  Couple  of  Ducks 
on  the  Anniverfary  of  the  Author's  Wed 
ding. Day,  - 

To  Mifs  S P e, 

Extempore,  in  the  King's  Bench,  on  hearing 
a  Raven  Croak,  -  -  -  _ 

Differtiffime  Romuli  Nepotum,  &c. 

Imitated,  after  Dining  with  Mr  Murray, 

Inscriptions  on  an  ./Eolian  Harp, 

An  Epigram  by  Sir  Thomas  More.  De 
Tyndaro,  -  -  _  . 

The  Long-Ncfed  Fair,  -         -         - 

Fanny  Blooming  Fair.  Tranflated  into  La 
tin,  in  the  manner  of  Mr.  Bourne,  « 

Fanny  Blooming  Fair,  -         - 

The  Pretty  Chambermaid.  In  Imitation  of 
Horace,  - 

Chriftopherus  Smart,  Samueli  Saunders,  Col. 
Regal,  S.  P.  D. 

The  famous  general  Epitaph  from  Demof- 
thenes,  ----__ 

Carmen  in  Cseciliam.  A  Latin  Verfion  of 
Pope's  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day, 

'onArNinAHS.  A  Latin  Verfion  of  Mil 
ton's  L' Allegro,  - 

Datur  Mundorum  Pluralitas, 

A  Voyage  to  the  Planets.  Tranflated  by 
the  Rev  Francis  Fawkes,  A.  M. 

Matcries  Gaudet  vi  Inertias, 

The  Temple  of  Dulnefs,  ... 

Multa  Ocitationem  Propogatio  Solvi  potcft 
M'.-chanice,  - 

A  Mechanical  Solution  of  the  Propagation 
of  YaMrning,  -  -  -  - 

The  Horatian  Canons  of  Friendfhip, 

Prologue  to  a  Trip  to  Cambridge,  or  the 
Grateful  Fair.  A  Mock  Play,  aded  at 
Pembroke  College  Hail,  Cambridge, 

'    1747. 

Soliloquy  of  the  Princefs  Perriwinkle  in  the 
Mock  Play  of  "  A  Trip  to  Cambridge,  or 
the  Graceiul  F^r."  -  - 

An  occafional  Prologue  and  Epilogue  to  O- 
thello,  as  it  was  i&cd  at  the  Theatre- 
Royal  in  Drury-Dane,  by  Perfons  of  Di- 
ftinciion,  for  their  Diverfion, 

Epilogue.   Spoken  by  Deluemona,     - 

£pilogue  to  the  App- entice., 

Epilogue.  Spoken  by  Mr-  Shuter,  at  Covent 
Garden,  after  the  Play  of  the  '  Confcious 
Lovers,"  a&ed  for  the  Benefit  of  th'c 


Page 

1 80 

181 

ib. 

ib. 
ib. 


ib. 

ib. 

iSi 

ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 

183 
ib. 
ib. 

184 


-  1 86 

187 
188 
189 

-  190 


ib. 
191 


194 
ib, 


ib. 
ib- 


1*34 


Middlefex  Hofpital  for  Lying-in  Women, 
1755.  »n  t*16  Character  of  a  Man-Mid 
wife,  .«---• 


C.O  N  T  E  N  T  S. 

Page 


Page 


De  Artc  Critica.  A  Latin  Verfion  of  Pope  s 

IEfiay  on  Criticifm,       ....     196 
Stanzas,  in  a  Song  to  David,  -         -     203 


WORKS  OF  LANGHORNE. 


Page 

THE  Author's  Life,        -        -        •*        -  2*7 
To  the  Hon.  Charles  Yorke,             -        -  217 
Proemium.    Written  in  1766,           -         -  jb. 
Hymn  to  Hope,  1761, 
Genius  and  Valour.  APaftoralPoem.  Writ 
ten  in  Honour  of  a  Sifter-Kingdom,  1 763,  218 

THE  VISIONS  OF  FANCY.    1762. 

Elegy  I.        -        -    -    -        -        -        '  *« 

Elegy  II.       - lb- 

Elegy  III. »" 

Elegy  IV.     ------  3*3 

A  Poem  to  the  Memory  of  Mr.  Handel, 

ib. 


THE  ENLARGEMENT  OF  THE  MIND. 

Epiftle  I.  To  General  Craufurd.    Written 

at  Belvidere.  1763,  -        -        -     224 

Epiftle  II.  To  William  Langhorne,  M.  A. 

1765, a*5 

Ode  to  the  River  Eden,  1759,          -        -     217 

Autumnal  Elegy.  To -,  1763,         ib. 

To  the  Same,  1763,        -  228 

To  the  Same   The  Complaint  of  h«r  Ring- 

Dove,  1769,       -----       ib. 
To  the  Same.    Sonnet.    In  the  manner  of 

Petrarch,  1765,  -  229 

To  the  Same.    Wrapped  round  a  Nofegay 
/     of  Violets,  1761,  -         -  ib. 

To  the  Same.     On  the  Moral  Reflections 
contained  in  her  Anfwer  to  the  above 
Verfes,  1761,     -----       ib 
V«rfe«  Written  in  a  Collection  of  Maps, 

1765, »b 

Theodofius  to  Conftantia,  1760,  -  -  ib 
Elegy,  1760,  .....  ih 
lofcription  on  the  Door  of  a  Study,  -  23 

To  Lord  Granby,  .        -        .  ib 

Monody,  1759 331 

To  Mrs.  .    In  the  Tears  for  th« 

Death  of  a  Friend,  •         -       ib 

To  Mrs.  Oilman, 
Fragment  of  a  Poem,  written  at  Clare-Hall 

on  the  King's  Acceffion,  1760,      -         -      ib 
Caefar's  Dream  before  his  InvaGon  of  Bri 
tain,          

Infcription  in  a  Temple  of  Society,  . 

Inscription  in  a  Sequeftered  Grotto,  1763,  b 
Another  Infcriptian  in  the  fame  Grotto, 


Page 
Verfes  left  with  the  Minifter  of  Ripenden, 

a  Romantic  Village  in  Yorkfhire,   175!,  233 
Verfes  written  amongft  the  Ruins  of  Pente- 

frait  Cattle,  1756,        -         -         -  ib. 

fragment,  1762,               -         -         •         -  234 
The  Death  of  Adonis.  Tranflated  from  the 

Greek  of  Bion,  -  -  -  ib. 
The  Happinei's  of  a  Moderate  Fortune  and 
Moderate  Dcftres  From  the  French  of  x 
Mr  Greflet,  -  -  •  -  -  43* 
Sonnet  CLXXIX.  Tranflated  from  Pe 
trarch,  ..-..-  237 
Sonnet  CCLXX1X.  From  the  Same,  -  ib. 
Sonnet  CCLVIl.  From  the  Same,  -  -  ib. 
Sonnet  CCXXXVIII.  From  the  Same,  -  ib. 
Tranflation  from  Catullus,  -  -  ib. 
Monody.  Sung  by  a  Redbrcaft,  -  -  ib. 
To  a  Redbreaft,  -  .  -  -  -  238 
A  Contemplation,  -  .  -  ib. 
Menalcas.  A  Paftoral,  -  -  ih. 
To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lamb,  -  -  ib. 
An  Ode  to  the  Genius  of  Weftmorland,  -  ib. 
Hymn  to  Plutus,  ....  339 
Hymn  to  Humanity,  -  -  .  ib. 

Epiftle  to  Mr. ,       -         ...  240 

To  a  Lady,  on  Reading  an  Elegy  written 

by  her,  OR  the  Search  of  Happinefs,       -  ib. 
A  Monody,  infcribed  to  my  worthy  Friend 
John  Scott,  Efq.  being  written  in  his  Gar 
den  at  Amwell,  in  Hertfordfhire,  the  be 
ginning  of  the  year  1769,               -         -  ib. 
Imitation  of  Waller. — Waller  to  St.  Evre- 

mond,        .--..-  341 
Infcriptior.s  on  a  Beech  Tree,  in  the  Ifland 

of  Sicily,             -         -  ib. 
To  the  Duchefs  of  Mazarin,  on  her  Retir 
ing  into  a  Convent,               -         -         -  ib. 
The  Viceroy.  Addrefled  to  the  Earl  of  Ha- 

HfaX.  Firft  pubfifliedm  1762,        -         -  »4* 

Hymn  to  the  Rifing  Sun,          -  443 

A  Fareweljl  Hymn  to  the  Valley  of  Irwan,  ib. 

The  Happy  Villager,       -         -         -         -  ib. 

To  Almena.  From  the  Banks  of  the  Irwan,  244 

The  Amiable  King,  ib. 
Hymeneal  on  the  Marriage  of  his  prefent 

Majefty,              .....  ib. 

Song,             ...         .         .         _         .  24£ 

Hymn  to  the  Eternal  Providence,      -         -  ib. 
To  George  Colman,  Efq.  prefixed  to  the 
Correspondence  of  Theodofius  and  Con- 

tlantia,                             *          .          -          -  ilu 
Written  in  a  Cottage  Garden  at  a 


CONTENT  3. 


Page 
246 
ib. 


Village  in  Lorrain,  occafisned  by  a  Tra 
dition  concerning  a  Tree  of  Rofemary, 

The  Paftoral  part  of  Milton's  Epitaphium 
Damonis,  ... 

Precepts  of  Conjugal  Happinefs.  Addref- 
fed  to  a  Lady  on  her  Marriage.  Firft 
published  in  1767,  ....  248 

Verfes  in  Memory  of  a  Lady.  Written  at 

Sandgate  Caftle,  1768,  ...  349 

The  Origin  of  the  Veil,  -         -         -       ib. 

THE  COUNTRY  JUSTICE. 

Part  I.  To  Richard  Burn,  LL.  D.  one  of 
his  Majefty's  Juftices  of  the   Peace,  for 
the  Counties  of  Westmorland  and  Cum 
berland,              -         -                  -         .     25! 
Part  II.  To  Robert  Wilfon  Cracroft,  Efq.       253 
Part  111 455 

MILTON'S  ITALIAN  POEMS  TRANSLATED. 

Addrefs  to  Sig  Mozzi  of  Macerata,           -  257 

Sonnet  I.        -         -         -         -         -         -  ib. 

Sonnet  If.       .-.--.  458 

Sonnet  III.     ------  ib. 


Papa 
2<S 

ib 
ib, 


Sonnet  IV.     ..... 

Sonnet  V.      - 

Canzor.,   ''...-. 

THE  FABLKS  OF  FLORA. 

Dedication  of  the  Countefi  of  Hertford,  Jb« 

Adyertifcment,  .  .  ib« 

Fable  I.  The  Sunflower  and  the  Ivy,  •  ib. 

Fable  II.  The  Evening  Primrofe,  -  -  459 

Fable  III.  The  Laurel  and  the  Reed,  -  260 
Fable  IV.  The  Garden  Rofe  and  the  Wild 

Rofe,  -  -  -  -  .  -  ib 

Fable  V.  The  Violet  and  the  Panfy,  .  261 
Fable  VI.  The  Queen  of  the  Meadow  and 

the  Crown  imperial,  ....  a6i 

Fable  VII.  The  Wallflower,  -  -  -  ib. 

Fable  VIII.  The  Tulip  and  the  Myrtle,  -  263 

Fable  IX.  The  Beeflower,  -  -  -  264 

Fable  X.  The  Wilding  and  the  Broom,  ib. 
Fabie  XI.  The  Mifletoe  and  the  Pafiion- 

flower,       __-.-_  4,6$ 

To  the  Memory  of  the  Rev.  Jofeph  Lang- 
horrie,  of  Winton,  arid  Ifobel  his  Wife,        265 

Owen  of  Carron,  -        -        -        -      ib* 


WORKS  OF  BRUCE. 


Author's  Life, 


POEMS,    &C. 


Page 


383 


Lochleven,  - 

Daphnis.    A  Monody.  To  the  Msmory  of 

William  Arnot,  Son  of  Mr.  David  Arnot 

of  Portmoak,  near  Kinrofs,  -         -     288 

Alexis.     A  Paftoral,         -         -  .       -     ,    -       >b 

The  Eagle,  Crow,  and  Shepherd.    A  Fable,     289 

Paftoral  Song     To   the  Tune  of—"  The 

Yellow  Hair'd  Laddie,"       -         -         -      ib'. 


Sir  James  the  Rofs.  An  Hiftorical  Ballad, 
Anacreontic.    To  a  Wafp,         -         . 
The  Moufiad.     A  Minor  Epic  Poem.     In 
.  the  manner  of  Homer.  A  Fragment, 
Elegy,  written  in  Spring,  • 

To  John  Millar,  M.  D.   On  recovery  from 

.  A  dangerous  fit  of  lllnefs,     -         - 
Verfes   on    the  Death    of  the   Rev.    Mr. 
M'Ew'en,  - 


Page 
2.90 
291 

29* 
493 


ib. 


WORKS  OF  GHATTERTON- 


THE  Author's  Life,        -        -        -        -  *97 
Preface  to  the  Firft  Edition, 8vo.  1777,  Pub- 

lifhed  by  Thomas  Tyrrwhiti,  Efq.         --  3*1 

Introductory  Account  of  the  fcveral  Piece*,  3*a 

Advertifement  to  Tyrrwhitt's  Edition,       -  3*4 


Eclogue  I. 
Eclogue  II. 


ib 

3*5 
336 


To  Jo^nne  Ladgale.  (Sent  with  the  Songe 

to  JElla), 
Songc-  to  ^lla,  Lorde  of  the  Cartel  of  Bry- 

ftow'e,  ynrie  daies  of  yore,     - 
Lines  compofed  by  John  Ladgate,  a  Prieft 

in  London,  and  ienc   to  Rowlie,  as  an 

AnPwer  to  the  Preceding  Songe 
The  Tournaragnt.   An  Interlude, 


Page 

318 

ib. 


ib. 
ib. 


1136 


CONTENTS, 
Page 


331 
335 

ib. 

ib 
336 

-     35* 


Briftowe  Tragcdic ;  or,  the  Dethe  of  Syr 

Charles  Bawdin,          - 
jElla  :  A  Tragycal  Entcrlude, 
Epiftle  to  Maftrc  Canynge  on 
Letter  to  the  Dygne  Maftre  Canynge, 
Entroduc"Ho»ne,     - 
Goddwyn  :  A  Tragedie.  By  Thomas  Row- 

leie,  ------ 

Prologue  made  by  Maiftrc  William   Ca- 

nynge,       ------          . 

ENGLISH  METAMORPHOSIS.      BIE  T.  ROWLEIE. 

Bock  I. 355 

An  Excellent  Balade  of  Charitie  :  As  Wro- 
ten  bie  the  gode  Prkfte  Thomas  Row 
ley,  1464,  -  -  -  -  -  356 
Battle  of  Haftings,<No.  I.  -  -  -  35  8 
Battle  of  Haftings,  No.  II.  ...  3** 
Onn  our  Ladies  Chyrche,  -  3^9 
On  the  Same,  -  -  -  -  -  3  JO 
Epitaph  on  Robert  Canynge,  -  -  ib. 
The  Storie  of  William  Canynge,  -  -  ib. 
On  Happinefle.  By  William  Canynge,  -  371 
Onn  Johne  a  Dalbenie.  By  the  fame,  -  ib, 
The  Gouler's  Rtquiem.  By  the  fame,  -  ib. 
The  Accounts  of  W  Canynges  Feaft,  -  371 
A  Glofiary  of  uncommon  Words,  -  373 

.    MISCELLANIES. 

Ethelgar.   A  Saxon  Poem,       ...    380 
Kenrick-  Tranflated  from  the  Saxon,        -    -381 
Cerdick.  Tranflated  from  the  Saxon,          -       ib. 
Godred  Crovan.     A  Poem.     Compofed  by 
Depnal  Synrick  Scheld  of  Godred   Cro 
van,  King  of  the  Ifle  of 'Man,        -         -     38* 
The  Hirlas.    Tranflated  from  the  ancient 
Eritiihof  O  wen  Cyfeloig,  Prince  of  Powys,     386 


Gorthmtmd.  Tranflated  from  the  Saxon,  386 
Narva  and  Mored.  An  African  Eclogue,  388 
The  Death  of  Nicou.  An  African  Eclogue,  389 
Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  Mr.  Thomas  Phil 
lips  of  Fairford,            -         ...  300 
February.   An  Elegy,       -         -         -         -  39r 

Elegy  on  W.  Beckford,  Efq.              -         -  39* 

Elegy,            -         -         -        -         -         -  ib. 

On  Mr.  Alcock  of  Briftol,  an  excellent  Mi 
niature  Painter,           -         -         -         -  393 

To  Mifs  B— fti,  of  Briftol,         -                    -  ib. 

The  Advice.  AddrefftdtoMifsM — R , 

of  Briftol,            -----  ib. 

The  Copernican  Syftem,           -         -         -  394 

The  Confuliad.    An  Heroic  Poem,              -  ib. 

The  Prophecy,        -----  396 

Song.   Addreffed  to  Mifs  C — am,  of  Biftol,  39  7 

Apoftate  Will,        -----  ib. 

Happinefs,  1769,             -         -         -        .-  398 
The  Refignation,               -  399 
The  Art  of  Puffing.  By  a  Bookfeller's  Jour 
neyman,          .              -         -         -         -  ib. 

Extract  from  the  unpublifhed   MS.  of  the, 
Satirical  Poem,  istituled,  "  Kew   Gar 
dens,"        ------  400 

Ode.  Chatterton  in  the  Shades,         -         -  ib. 
On  the  Poems  imputed  to  Rowley,             -  401 
Sonnet  to  Exprefiion.  By  Mils  Helen  Wil 
liams,         -         -         -         -         -  ib. 

Monody  to  the    Memory  of  Chatterton. 

Written  by  Mrs.  Cowley,              -         -  ib. 
Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  Mr.  Thomas  Chat 
terton,  late  of  Briftol,            -         -  ib. 
An  Archaslogical  Epiftle  to  the  Reverepd 
and  Worfhiptul  Jeremiah  Milles,  D.  D. 
Dean  of  Exeter,  &c.     -  401 


WORKS  OF  GRAEME. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-     409 

ELEGIES  ;  MORAL,  DESCRIPT1TE,  AND  AMATORY. 

Elegy  I    Written  in  Spring,     -         -         -     42? 
Elegy  II.  To  Mira,  .       ib. 

Elegy  III.  To  Mira,        ... 
Elegy  IV.      -         -         .         . 

Elegy  VI.  The  Suicide,  I        I 


Elegy  VIII.  To  Alexis.  By  Robert  Ander 
fon,  M.  D.         - 

Elegy  IX.  On  the  Anniverfary.  By  Robert 
Anderfon,  M.  D.          ... 

Elegy  X.  In  the  manner  of  the  Ancients, 
'egy  XI.  By  Robert  Anderfon.  M.  D. 
XII.  The  Fair,     . 


ib. 
ib. 
ib 

427 

ib. 

448 
ib. 
ib. 
"    4*9 


Elegy  XIII.  Imitated  from  Horace,  - 

Elegy  XIV.  ..... 

Elegy  XV.  The  Linnet,  -         -         - 

E%y  XVI.  Laura.   By  Robert  Anderfon, 


Page 

429 

430 

ib. 


Elegy  XVII.  To  the  Memory  of  Mr.  James 
Fiiher, 

Elegy  XVIII.  Written  near  the  Ruins  of 
Cuthally  Caftle,  .... 

Elegy  XIX.  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D. 

Elegy  XX.  

Elegy  XX f.  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D. 

Elegy  XXII.         '-/',- 

Elegy  XXIII,  To  Mira.  In  the  manner  of 
Ovid,  - 

Elegy  XXIV.  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D. 

Elegy  XXV.  To  Eliza,  .        -        - 


431 


ib. 

4.53 
434 

ib. 

ib. 


ib- 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Elegy  XXVJ.  tMober,            -        -        -  4,6 

Elegy  XXVII.  To  Mira,         -         -         -436 

Elegy  XXVIII  ToDamon.  On  his  having 
addicted  himfclf  to  the  Study  of  Natural 

Hiftory,  -  «  -  -  -  ib. 

Elegy  XXIX.  Clara  to  Damon,         -         -  ib. 

Elegy  XXX.  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M  D.  437 

Elegy  XXXI.  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D.  ib. 

Elegy  XXXII.  By  Robert  Auderfon,  M.  D.  ib. 

Elegy  XXXIII.  To  Clara.  By  Robtrt  An 
derfon,  M.  D.  -  -  -  -  438 

Elegy  XXXIV.               -         -         -         -  ib. 

Elegy  XXXV.  On  Coming  to  the  Coun 
try,  _--_.-  ib. 

Elegy  XXXVI. 439 

Elegy  XXXVII.  On  the  Lefsof  the  Auro 
ra,  with  the  Indian  Supervisors,  1769,  -  ib. 

Elegy  XXXVIII.                                          .  ib. 

Elegy  XXXIX.      -         -         -  -440 

Elegy  XL.        .       -         -                  -         -  ib. 

Elegy  XLI.              .....  ib. 

Elegy  XLII.  To  Mira,             -         -         -  ib. 

Elegy  XLIII.  To  Mira.  In  the  manner  of 

Tibullu*,  ....  -  441 

Elegy  XL1V -  ib. 

Elegy  XLV, ib. 

Elegy  XL VI.          .         -         .         .         -44* 

Elegy  XL  VII.  To  Mira,          _                  -  ib. 

Elegy  XL  VIII    To  Mira,         ...  ib. 

Elegy  XLIX.  To  Mira,           -         -         -  ib. 

Elegy  L.  To  the  Memory  of  Alexis.  By 

Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D.  -  -  -  443 

Elegy  LI.  To  the  Memory  of  Mifs  Mar 
garet  Gray.  By  Rebert  Anderfon,  M.  D.  444 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


A  Night  Piece, 

Abra.  A  Fragment, 

Curling, 

To  a  Fly,      - 


-  445 
.  ib. 

-  446 

-  447 


"37' 
Page 
447 
44? 

447 
ib. 
ib. 

450 
ib. 

451 
ib. 


The  Student, 

A  Fragment,  - 

Rona.  Imitated  from  Offian,         •     - 

To  Robert  Anderfon,  M   D.  - 

On  Envy.  To  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D. 

Song,  -          - 

To-Mifs -         .         -•       . 

To  Mifs  E B , 

Song,  -         -         -         -         -     .   - 

To  Mifs  M — M— .  By  R.  Anderfon,  M.  D.       ib. 

Song    By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D.  -       ib. 

The  Contraft,         -  ib. 

Anacreon,  Ode  II.  Imitated-  To  Bavius,         45* 

To  Martin  White,  Efq.  -         -  ib. 

Elegiac  Ballad,        .....     453 

To  Archibald  Hamilton,  Efq.  On  his  Mar- 

riage  with  Mifs  Dinwiddie,  -         -       ib. 

Lines  written  at  Hamburgh  Caftle,   178$. 
By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D.  454 

To  Martin  White,  Efq.  -         -         -      ib. 

Damon ;  or,  the  Complaint.  By  Robert  An 
derfon,  M  D.  ^    455 

Alexis;  or,  the  Conftant  Lover.  A  Tale,        456 

Sonnet,  -         -         -         -         -         -458 

To  Mifs .  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D.       ib. 

To  Robert  Andcrfon,  M.  D.  -  45^ 

Elegiac  Ballad, ib. 

Hymn  to  the  Eternal  Mind,  -         -     460 

A  Fit  of  the  Spleen,         -         -         -  ib. 

Hero  and  Leander.     From  the  Greek  of 
Mufaeus,  .....     461 

The  Happinefs  of  a  Country  Life,  -     464 

On  Vifiting  Carnwath  School,   1769,         -       ib. 

Invocation  to  the  Elegiac  Mufe.  By  Robert 

Anderfon,  M  D          -  -  *  461 

The  Vifion    To  Mr.  John  Graeme.  By  Ro 
bert  rinderfon,  M  D.          -         -         -  *  46* 

Invocation  to  Health.  By  Mr  John  Graeme,       ib. 
Nancy.  A  Paftoral  Ballad    By  Robert  An 
derfon,  M.  D.  -         -         -         -  *  463 

A  Wifli.  By  Robert  Anderfon,  M.  D.       -  *  464 


WORKS  OF  GLOVER. 


Preface, 
Book  I. 
Book  II. 
Book  III. 
Book  IV. 
Book  V. 
Book  VI. 


Page 
's  Life,        ....     467 

LEON1DAS  :    A   POEM. 

Book  VII 
Book  VII 
Book  IX. 
Book  X. 
Book  XI. 
Book  XII 

Poem  on 
London; 

Page 

I.----- 

-    5*8 

485 

. 

•    535 

MISCELLANIES. 

Sir  Ifaac  Newton, 
of,  the  Progrefs  of  Commerce, 
4  1  i'j 

-    544 
S47 

-     499 

CONTENTS. 


WORKS  OF  SHAW. 


TH«  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-    557 


POEMS. 

Monody  to  the  Memory  of  a  Young  Lady,     561 
An  Evening  Addrcfs  to  a  Nightingale,  363 


Page 
The  Race.  By  Mercurius  Spur,  Efq.  With 

Notes,  by  Fauftinus  Scriblerus,      -         -     564 
Addrefs  to  the  Critics,  ib 

Song,  ....-_     J7» 

The  Snow-Ball.  A  Cantata,  -         -573 


WORKS  OF  LOVIBOND. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
•    577 


The  Tears  of  Old  May  Day,  -        -    581 

Dedication  to  the  Rev.  Mr  Woodefon,  of 
Kingfton  upon  Thames,  and  the  Ladies 
of  his  Neighbourhood,  ...  jgj 

Julia's  Printed  Letter  to  Lord  B ,       -       ib. 

On  Rebuilding  Combe- Neville,  near  King- 
fton,  Surrey,  once  the  Seat  of  the  famous 
King-making  Earl  of  Warwick,  and  late 
in  the  Poffeffion  of  the  Family  of  Har 
vey,  585 

On  Lady  Pninfret's  Prefenting  the  Univer- 
fity  of  Oxford  with  her   Collection  of 
Statues,     -        -        -        -'        -         -       ib. 
On  Rural  Spirts,  -        -        -         -     j86 

Ode  to  Captivity.  Written  in  the  late  War,  587 
Imitation  from  Ofnan's  Poems,  -  -  588 
Od«  to  Youth,  -----  ib. 
To  the  Thfcnes,  -  ....  589 
To  Mifg  K—  P— ,  -  -  .  ib. 

To  the  fame,  -         -      ib. 

To  the  fame.  With  Anfon's  Voyage,        -     590 
To  Complaint  of  Cambria  to  Mifs  K —  P — ,      ib. 
On  a  Prefcnt  to  the  Author,  of  Two  Im- 
prtffions  from  a  fine  Antique  Seal  of  the 
Head  of  Alexander,    -  -         -     jo,I 

On  the  Subjeft  of  the  Monument  in  Arcadia,  ibi 
On  the  fame,  .  -  .  -  ib. 

Kitchin  Convent.  A  Tale,  -  -  -  ib. 
To  a  Young  Lidy,  a  very  good  Afirefs,  592 
To  an  accompLfhed  Lady.  In  the  manner 

of  Waller,  -  -  .  -  -  503 
Addrefs  to  the  Thames,  '  -  -  -  ib. 
To  Mrs.  B— ,  reading  Julia  with  Tears, 

during  a  hard  Froft,  '  -  _  -  ib. 
On  Mr.  Brown's  Alterations  at  Clermont, 

reacting  Hills,  fcooping  Valltys,  &c.  .  ib. 
To  Lady  F  — - ,  on  her  Marriage,  -  jb! 


Song, 

Verfes  written  after  pafling  through  Fitj- 

don,  Suflex,  1768.  Addrefled  to  the  Re 
verend  Mr.  Woodefon,  of  Kingfton  upon 

Thames, 

To  a  Lady,  - 

Stanzas,         -._-.- 
To  a  Young  Lady,  who  objected  to  Sup 

with  a  Party  of  both  Sexes,  that  met  at 

a  CofFeehoufe,  -         ... 

A  Dream, 

Thie  Mulberry  Tree.  A  Tale, 
To  a  Lady, 

On  a  very  fine  Lady,  - 

On  an  Afiatic  Lady,         - 
To  the  fame.  On  her  Drefs,    - 
To  the  fame, 
On  Reading  the  foregoing  Verfes.  By  Mifs 

G— ,         ._---- 

Reply  to  Mifs  G— 

Song,        ._.--•- 
Laura's  Anfwer.  By  Mifs  G— , 

To  Mifs  G— , 

To  Laura,  on  her  receiving  a  Myfterious 

Letter  from  a  Methodift  Divine, 
On  Politics.  To  the  fame,        - 
To  Laura    Farewell  to  the  Rofe, 
Song  to  ****,         ..... 
On  Men  being  deprived,  from  Cuftetn  and 

Delicacy,  of  enjoying   focial  Friendihip 

with  the  Fair  Sex,       - 
To  a  Young  Lady,  Fainting  a.t  the  news  of 

her  Friends  Misfortunes, 
To  Mils  N— m.    Written  at  Brighthelm- 

ftone,         -         -         - 
To  Mrses.  R — s.    Written  at  Brighthelm- 

ftone,         ....-- 
Verfes  written  at  Brighthelmftone, 
To"  Mifs  G — .     From  Brighthelmftone,    - 
Aafwer  to  the  foregoing  Verfes.  By  Mifs 

G— ,          ...        -        .  .      - 


ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


ib. 

5951 
ib. 

596 
ib. 
ib. 


597 
ib. 


ib. 
ib. 


ib. 
ib. 

599 
ib. 

6o« 
ib. 


ib. 

ib. 

6ei 


ib. 
ib, 
ib. 

603 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

6n  the  Death  of  a  Young  Geatlcman,       -     602 
Infcription  for  a  Fountain,         -         -  ib. 

On  the  Converting  the  late  Mr.   Woode- 
fon's  Houfe,  at  Kingfton,  into  a  Pt>or- 


Page 

hnufe,  and  cutting  down  the  great  Walk 
of  Ht-^h  Trees  before  it,  -         -       ib. 

On  the  Death  of  Edward  Lovlbond,  Efq. 
By  Mils  G— ,  -         -         -         -     603 


WORKS  OF  PENROSE. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-     607 


POEMS,  &C. 


Verfes  addrefled  to  three  Ladies,  on  the 
Death  of  a  favourite  Parroquetc,  -  6tl 

Verfes,  written  Friday  Evening,  Feb.  5. 
1762,  in  the  Cloyfters  of  Chrift  Church, 
OXBD  ;  on  being  difappointed  of  gvingto 
the  Affembly  at  Newbury,  Berks,  .  ib. 

To  Mifs  Slocock  Written  on  board  the 
Ambufcade,  Jan.  6.  1763,  a  fliort  time 
before  the  Attack  of  Nova  Colocia  do  Sa 
cramento,  in  the  River  of  Plate,  -  ib. 

Elegy  on  leaving  the  River  of  Plate,  after 
the  unfuccefsful  Attack  of  Nova  Colonia 
do  Sacramento,  -  -  -  -  612 

Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  Mifs  Mary  Pen- 
rofe,  who  died  Dec.  18.  1764,  in  the 
Nineteenth  year  of  her  Age,  -  -  ib. 

To  my  dcareft  Wife,  on  our  Wedding-day,    613 


FLIGHTS  OF  FANCT. 


The  Helmets.  A  Fragment, 
The  Caroufal  of  Odin, 


-  ib. 

-  614 


Page 

Madnefs,       ----..  614 
Addrefs  to  the  Genius  of  Britain,      -         -  615 
Effay  on  the  Contrarieties  of  Public  Vir 
tue,           ^  .  616 

The  Juftice.  A  Cantata,           -         -         -  6it 

The  Hermit's  Vifion,      -         -         -         -  6 If 

The  Field  of  Battle,         ....  6z« 

Mortality,                                  -                  -  ib. 

Friendfhip,                                   .  gjj 

The  Curate.    A  Fragment,       -         -         -  ib. 

Donnington  Callle,          -  621 
Poverty,        _         -         ..__;{,, 

The  Harp,               .....  ga^ 

Bifappointment    A  Fragment,           -         -  ib. 

1'he  Navy.  A  Fragment,         ...  gj^ 

Fragment,               ...         •         -  ib. 
A   Fale.    Founded  on  an  incident  at  St. 

Vincent's  Rucks,  1779,        - 
Early  Gray  Hairs,  .... 

Bagatelle,      -    ,    -         ...         .         . 
On  the  Birth-day  of  Mifs  S.  C. 
Verfes  occafloned  by  hearing  that  a  Gen 
tleman  at  the  Hot  Well,  Briftol,   had 

written  Satirical  Verfes  on  a  Lady,  1 779,  ib. 


ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


WORKS  OF  MICKLE. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Pjge 
-    627 


FOEMS. 

Pollio.     An  Eltgiac  Ode.     Written  in  the 

Wood  near  Roflin  Caftle,  1762,              -  639 

Sir  Martyn.   In  the  manner  of  Spenfer,  640 

Author's  Advertifement,          -         -         -  ib. 

Canto  I 64l 

Canto  II. 647 

Gloflary, 653 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  An  Elegy,    -         -  634 

Knowledge    An  Ode,      -         -         -         •  657 

Hengift  and  Mey    A  Ballad,             -         -  659 
The  sorcercfs;  or  Wofold  and  Ulla.  An 

Heroic  Ballad,        -            -        -        -  660 

Almada  Hill.  An  Epiftle  from  L  fbon,      -  662 

Advertifement,      -       -        ~.        -  * 


Stanzas  addrrfled  to  a  Young  Lady  ftudious 
of  Botany,          - 

Sacred  to  the  Heirs  of Caftle, 

Fragments,  -         -         -         . 

Stanzas  on  the  Death  of  the  Princefs  Dow 
ager  of  Wales,  .... 
Epitaph  on  Mr  Mortimer,      ... 
To  the  Memory  of  Com.  Geo.  Johnftone, 
I  Stanzas  on  Mr  Garrick,  - 
I  On  pafling  through  the  Parliament  Clofe  at 

Midnight,  - 

j  On  the  Neglect  of  Poetry.  A  Fragment.  In 
the  manner  of  Spenfer.  (Fiom  the  Intro 
duction  to  tbe  Englilh  Lufiad.) 
Tranflation  of  Taflb's  Sonnet  "  Vafco,  1»- 

cui,  felici,  &c.  - 

An  Infcription  on.  an  Ofcelifk  at  Lajigfor  J; 
4  I  ii'j 


668 

ib. 


ib. 

669 

ib. 

ib. 

ib. 


-    670 


1140 


in  Wiltftire,  the  feat  of  the  Earl  of  Rad 
nor,  commemorating  the  unfortunate  fate 
of  Mr.  Servinton,  who  was  formerly  in 
poffeflion  of  that  Eftate,        -         - 
Tranflation  of  an  Epithalamium,  written  in 


CONTENTS. 

Page 


Hebrew,  by  Abraam  Denas,  on  the  Mar 
riage  of  Jacob  Franco,  Efq  to  M  ' 
pail  D'A^uilar,  daughter  ot  the  iate  .  a  Bl 
D'  ^guilar,          - 
Elkdale  Braes,         - 


Page 


671 
671 


WORKS  OF  JAGO. 


Page 

Tut  Author's  Life,        ...         -     675 
Hints  for  a  Preface  for  any  Author,  and  for 
any  Book,  -  679 

EDGE-HILL:  A  POEM.  IN  FOUR  BOOKS. 

Preface,         -         -         -         -         -         -  681 

Book  I.  Morning,  ib. 
Hook  II.  Noon,               -        -         -         -687 

Book  UI    Afternoon,       -         -         -  692, 

Book  IV    Evening,          -  697 
Labour  and  Genius;  or,  the  Mill-ftream 
and  the  Cafcade.    A  Fable.    Infcribed  to 

William  Shenftone,  Efq.       -  JQ^ 

MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

Ardenna.  A  Paftoral  Eclogue.  To  a  Lady,  705 

The  Scavengers.  A  Town  Dialogue,          -  706 

Abfence,       ------  ib. 

To  a  Lady,             .....  707 

To  a  Lady  working. a  Pair  of  Ruffles,        -  ib. 

Female  Empire,  A  True  Hiftory,     -         -  ib. 


On  Mr.  Samuel  Cooke's  Poems.  Written 
in  the  year  1749,  - 

The  Miftake.  On  Captain  Bluff,  I  750,      - 

To  a  Lady,  with  a  Bafket  of  Fruit, 

Pcytoe's  Ghoft,       - 

To  a  Lady.furnifhing  her  Library,  at  ** 
in  Warwickfhire,         - 

To  William  Shenftone,  Efq.  on  receiving  a 
gilt  Pocket  Book,  1751,  - 

An  Elegy  on  Man,  written  Jatm-ary  1751, 

On  receiving  a  little  Ivory  iiox  from  a  La 
dy,  curioufly  wrought  by  her  own  hands, 

Valentine's  Day,  - 

Hamlet's  Soliloquy.  Imitated, 

Roundelay,  written  for  the  Jubilee  at  Strat 
ford  upon  Avon,  celebrated  by  Mr.  Gar- 
rick,  in  honour  of  Shakfpeare,  Sept.  1769. 
Set  to  Mufic  by  Mr.  Dibdin, 

The  Blackbirds.  Art  Elegy,      - 

The  Goldfinches  An  Elegy.  To  William 
Shenftone,  Efq 

The  Swallows.  An  Elegy,        - 


Page 


ib. 
ib. 


-     7°9 


710 

ib. 

711 


ib. 
ib. 

713 
7*3 


WORKS  OF  SCOTT. 


THI  Author's  Life, 
Advertifement, 


MORAL  ECLOGUES. 

Advertifement,  ----- 
Eclogue  I.  Theron;  or,  the  Praife  of  Ru 
ral  Life,  -  -  -  -  .  - 
Eclogue  II  Palemon;  or,  Benevolence,  - 
Eclogue  III.  Armyn  ;  or,  the  Difcomented, 
Eclogue  IV.  Lycoron  ;  or,  the  Unhappy, 

ELEGIES;   DESCRIPTIVE  AND  MORAL. 

Elegy  I.  Written  at  the  Approach  of  Spring, 
Elegy  II  Written  in  the  hot  Weather,  Ju- 

171757,    .....      .  - 

Elegy  111  Written  in  Harveft,  -  . 
Ile*y  IV.  Written  at  the  Approach  of 

Winter,     .        .        .        .        .        . 


ib. 


730 

ib. 

731 


732 

733 
ib. 


Elegy  V.  Written  at  Amwell,  in  Hertford- 

fhire,  1768,         -         -         -         -         - 

Amwell  :  a  Defcriptive  Poem,          -         - 

AMOEBEAN  ECLOGUES. 

Advertifement,       ----- 
Eclogue  I.  Rural  Scenery  ;  or,  the  Defcrib- 

ers,  -         -         -         -         - 

Eclogue  II.  Rural  Bufinefs;  or,  the  Agri- 

cukurifts,  - 

ORIENTAL  ECLOGUES. 

Advertifement,       ----- 

Zerad  ;  or,  the  Abfent  Lover:    an  Arabian 

Eclogue,  ----- 

Serim  ;  or,  the  Artificial  Famine  :   an  Eaft 

Indian  Eclogue,  _         -         -         - 

Li-Po  ;  or,  the  Good  Governor  :  a  Chinefe 

Eclogue,  -        -        -        -        - 


Page 

735 
736 


ib. 

743 

745 
ib. 


CONTENTS. 


ODES. 


Page 

Ode  I.  To  Leifure,                    _         .         .  730 

Ode  II    The  Evening  Walk,              -         -  751 

Ode  III    To  Childhood,            .         .         -  ib. 

Ode  IV.  Hearing  Mufic,          -         -         -  751 

OJe  V.   A  Lamlfcape,     -  ib. 
Ode  VI.  To  a  Friend,  on  his  Marriage,  and 
removal  into  the  Country.    Written  at 

Stanway-Hall,  in  Eflex,         -         -         -  ib. 

Ode  VII.  Written  in  Winter,            -         -  733 

Ode  VHI    To  a  Friend,            -         -         .  ib. 

Ode  IX.  Leaving  Bajh,  1776,           -         -  ib. 
Ode  X.  To  J.   Payne,   Efq.   Accountant. 

General  of  the  Bank  of  England,             -  754 
Ode  XI.  To  a  Friend,  apprehenfive  of  De 
clining  Friendftiip,  ib. 
Ode  XI I.  To  a  Friend,                                 -  ib. 

Ode  XIII. 755 

Ode  XIV.  Written  after  Readingfome Mo 
dern  Love-Verfes,        -         -         -  ib. 
Ode  XV.  The  Mufe ;  or,  Poetical  Enthu- 

fiaim,         -...-_  ib. 
Odt  XVI.  Viewing  the  ruins  of  an  Abbey. 

To  n  Friend,       -                   -         -  ib. 

Ode  XVII.  Privateering,         -         -         -  756 

Ode  XVI II.  On  Hofpitality,    -         -         -  ib. 

Ode  XIX.  The  Apology,         ...  757 

Ode  XX.                ib. 

Ode  XXI.  Written  after  a  Journey  to  Brif- 

tol,             -.._-_  ib. 

Ode  XXH.  To  Criticifin,        -        -        -  758 

Ode  XXIII.  To  Difeafe,          -         -         -  ib. 

Ode  XXIV.  The  Tempeftuous  Evening,  759 

Ode  XXV.  The  Melancholy  Evening,      -  ib. 

Ode  XXVI.  The  Pleafant  Evening,           -  ib. 

The  Mexican  Prophecy  :  An  Ode,             -  760 

EPISTLES. 

Epiflle  I.  The  Garden.     To  a  Friend,  j6z 


I34T 

Page 
Epiftle  II.    Winter   Amufements    in    the 

Country.     To  a  Friend  in  London,        -     763 
An  Effay  on  Painting.  To  a  Young  Artift,     ^65 


Sonnet  1.  Apology  for1  Retirement,             -  77^ 

Sonnet  II.  To  Delia,  1766.       -         -  ib. 

Sonnet  111  After  Reading  Shenftone's  Ele 
gies,  1766,  -  -  771 

Sonnet  IV.  Prefixed  to  Langhorne's  Poeti 
cal  Works,  1766,  -  -  -  -  ib. 

Sonnet  V.  To  Britain,  1766,             -         .  ib, 

MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Stanzas  on  Reading  Mrs.  Macaulay's  Hif- 
tory  of  England,  1766,  -  -  -  ib. 

Elegy,  in  the  manner  of  Hammond.  Sup- 
pofed  to  have  been  Written  in  the  Au 
thor's  Garden  during  a  Storm,  1756,  -  ib* 

The  Author  to  his  Wife,  1766,         -         -     77* 

Stanzas  Written  at  Medhurft  in  SufTex,  on 
the    Author's   return   from   Chichefter, 
where  he  had  attempted  in  vain  to  find        ' 
the  Burial-place  of  Collins,  -         -       ib. 

Verfes  to  a  Friend  Planting,  -         -       ib. 

To  an  Abfcnt  Friend,      -         -         -         -      ib. 

The  Shepherd's  Elegy,  occafioned  by  the 
death  of  an  Ingenious  Friend,  -  -  773 

On  the  Ingenious  Mr  Jones's  Elegant 
Trar.flati  ns  and  Imitations  of  Eailern 
Poetry,  and  his  Resolution  to  decline 
Tranllating  the  Perfian  Poets,  -  -  ib. 

Hymn  from  Pfalm  VIII.  -         -         -       ib. 

Verfes  occafioned  by  the  Defcription  of  the 
^Eohan  Harp,  in  the  Gentleman's  Maga 
zine  for  February  1754,  -  -  ib. 

To  Fear,       -  ....     774 

Poftfcript,     ----.-      ib. 


WORKS  OF  JOHNSON. 


The  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-     779 


London  :  a  Poem.  In  Imitation  of  the 
Third  Satire  of  Juvenal,  -  -  -  837 

The  Vanity  of  Human  Willies.  In  Imita 
tion  of  the  Tenth  Satire  of  Juvenal,  -  840 

Prologue  fpoken  by  Mr.  Garrick,  at  the 
Opening  of  the  Theatre  Royal  Drury- 
l.ane,  1747,  -  '  -  -  -  -  843 

Prologue  fpoken  by  Mr.  Garrick,  April  5. 
1750,  before  the  Mafque  of  Comus,  a<ft- 
ed  at  Drury-Lane  Theatre  for  the  Bene 
fit  of  Milton's  Grand-daughter,  -  -  844 

Prologue  to  the  Comedy  of  the  Good-Na- 

;  tured  Mao,  1769,  ib. 


Prologue  to  the  Comedy  of  a  Word  to  the 
Wife,  fpoken  by  Mr.  Hall, 

Spring.     An  Ode,  - 

Midfummer.     An  Ode,  ... 

Autumn.     An  Ode,         • 

Winter.     An  Ode,  -         - 

The  Winter's  Walk,        - 

To  Mifs  »**•*,  on  her  giving  the  Author 
a  Gold  and  Silk  Net-work  Purfe  of  her 
own  weaving,  .... 

To  Mifs  •****,  on  her  Playing  upon  the 
Harpfichord  in  a  Room  hung  with 
Flower-pieces  of  her  own  Painting, 

Evening,  an  Ode.     To  Stella, 

To  the  fame,          -         -         -         -         - 

To  a  Friend,  -        - 


Page 

844 
845 

ib. 

ib. 
846 

ib. 


ib. 


ib. 

847 
ib. 
ib. 


W4* 


60NTENTS. 


Stella  in  Mourning,        -        - 

To  Stella,      -         -        •        •        "        - 

Vi  .!•  *  ritttn  at  the  Rcqueft  of  a  Gentle- 
nun  to  whom  a  Lady  had  given  a  Sprig 
of  Myrtle,  - 

To  LaUy  i-irebrtce,  at  Burry  Affizes, 

To  Lyce  an  elderly  Lady,      - 

On  the  Death  of  Mr.  Robert  Levett,  a 
Prafijfer  in  Phyfic,  ... 

Spit  .-oh  «>n  Claude  Phillips,  an  Itinerant 
Mufician,  - 

Jpitaphiwm  in  Thpmam  Hanmer,  Baro- 
riettuni,  - 

Paraphrafe  of  the  above  Epitaph,      - 

To  M;fs  Hickman,  Playing  on  the  Spinnet, 

Pmphrafe  of  Proverbs..  Chap.  vi.  ver.  6.— 
II  — '  Go  to  the  Ant,  thou  Sluggard," 

Hr    ct,  Lib.JW.  Odf  VII.     Tranflated, 

On  feeing  a  Bufl.  of  Mrs.  Montague, 

JLinei  Written  in  Ridicule  of  certain  Poems, 
p'lblifhcd  in  177?,  - 

Pan  cy  i.f  a  Tranflatien  from  the  Medea  of 
Eunpedes,  - 

Burfefque  of  the  Mtdern  Vcrfifications  of 
Ancient  Legendery  Tales.  An  Im 
promptu,  ..... 

Tranilauon  of  the  Two  Firft  Stanzas  of  the 
Song  "  Rio  verdc.  Rio  verde,"  printed 
in  Bifhop  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient 
Enghfh  Poetry.  An  Impromptu, 

Imitation  of  the  Style  of , 

Burlt  fque  of  the  following  Lines  of  Lopez 
de  Vega.  "  Se  acquien  lot  leones  vence," 
4cc.  An  Impromptu,  _  .  , 

Tranflation  of  the  following  Lines  at  the 
end  ol  Baretti's  Eafy  Phrafeology.  "  Viva 
vira  la  padrona,"  &c.  An  Impromptu, 

Improvifr  Translation  of  the  Diftich  on  the 
Duhe  of  Medina's  running  away  from 
the  Comet  in  1742  or  1743, 

Improvifo  Tranflation  of  the  following  lines 
of  Monf  Benferade  "  a  fon  lit," 

Epitaph  tor  Mr.  Hogarth,        ... 

Tranflation  of  the  following  lines  written 
«nder  a  Print  reprefenting  bkaiting.  "  Sur 
un  mince  chryftal."  &c.  - 

Impromptu  Tranflation  of  the  fame,    .     . 

To  Mrs.  Thrale,  on  her  completing  her 
Thirty-fifth  year.  An  Impromptu, 

Imprompru  on  hearing  Mifs  Thrale  con- 
fulting  with  a  Friend  about  a  Gown  and 
Hat  fhe  was  inclined  to  wear, 

Impromptu  1  rai.flation  of  an  Air  in  the 
Clemenza  de  Tito  of  Metaftafio,  begin 
ning,  «'  Deh  fe  piacermi  vuoi,"  - 

Tranflation  of  a  Speech  of  A^uileio,  in  the 
Adriano  of  Metaftafio,  beginning,  "  Tu 

•    che  in  Corte  invcchiafti,"     ... 


Page 

847 
ib. 


848 
ib. 
ib. 

ib. 
849 

ib. 

ib. 

850 

ib. 
ib. 
ib. 

851 

ib. 

ib. 


ib. 

852 

ib. 

ib. 
ib. 


ib. 
ib. 

ib. 
ib. 
Br. 
ib. 

TKANILATTONS     AND     MISCELLANEODS   PIECES 

NOW  FISST  COLLECTED  INTO  JOHNSON'S 
•WORKS.  . 

Tranflation  of  Virgil,  Piftorall,    -        -      853 
Traaflation  of  Horace,  Book  I.  Ode  XXII,      ib. 


Tranflation  of  Horace,  Book  II.  Ode  IX, 
Tranflation  of  part  of  the  Dialogue  between 

Hector  and  Andromache;  from  the  Sixth 

Book  of  Homer's  Iliad, 
To  a  Young  Lady,  on  her  Birth-day, 
The  Young  Author,        - 
Epilogue  intended  to  have  been  fpoken  by 

a  Lady,  who  was  to  perfonate  the  Ghoft 

of  Hermione,      ----- 
Friendfliip  ;  an  Ode.     Piinted  in  the  Gen 

tleman's  Magazine,  1743,  -         - 

To  a  Lady  who  fpoke  in  defence  of  Liberty, 
Ad  Lauram  Parituram  Epigramma,         - 
Epigram  on  George  II.  and  Colley  Gibber, 

Efq.  Poet  Laureat,      -         -         -         - 

IRENE:  A  TRAGEDY. 

Prologue,      -        -        -        -        -        - 

Irene,  ...... 

Epilogue,      -  . 

POEMATA. 

Jan.  ao,  ar,  1773.  Vitas   qiii   varias  vices, 

&c.  ...... 

Dec.  25.  1779.  Nunc  dies  Chrifto,  &c.      - 
In  Lcfto,  Die  Paflionis.     Apr.  13.   1781. 

bumme  Deus,  &c.     .... 
In  Lecto.   Dec.  2.5.  1782.    Spe  noninania 

confugis,  &c.      ----- 
No&e,  inter  16  et  if  Junii,  1783.    Siimme 

Pater,  &c.          -         -         -         -         - 
Cal.  Jan.  in  Ledo.anteJLucem.  1784.  Sum- 

me  dator  vitae,  &c.      .... 
Pater  benigne,  &c  .         -         .         - 

Jan.  18.  1/84.  Summe  Pater,  &c.     -         . 
Feb.  17.  1784.  Mens  mea   quid  quereris, 

&c  ...... 

Chriftianus  Perfeftus,      .... 

^Eterne  rerum  conditor,  ... 

Luce  colluftret  mihi  pe&us  alma,  &c. 
Jejunium  et  Cibus,          .... 

Urbane,  nullis  fefie  laboribus   &c.     - 

In  Rivum  a  Mola  Stoana  Licbfeldiz  difflu- 

entem,       -         -         -         .         .         . 


Page 


ib. 

854 
ib. 


ib. 

855 
ib. 
ib. 

Ik. 


j(j. 
877 


ib. 

ib. 


ib. 

ib. 


ib. 
878 


ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib.- 


2EATTON,  .... 

Ad  Thomam  Laurence  Medicum  DoAiffi- 

mum,         ...... 

In  Theatro,  March  8.  1771,    -         - 
Infula  Kenneth!,  inter  Hebridas,       -         . 
Skia,    -         -         -    '    .         .         .         . 

Ode,  de  Skia  infula,        -  -        - 

Spe»,  -  -  .  .  -  -  . 
Verfus,  Collar!  Caprx  Domini  Banks,  - 
Ad  Fceminam  quandam  Generofam  que  Li- 

bertatis  Caufx  in  Scrmone  patrocinata 

fuerat,        ...... 

Jadura  Temporis,  -         .  - 

Quas  navis  recepit,  &c.  -         -         - 

Quot  vox  mifla  pedes,  Sac.       -         - 

BIPXION,  ..... 

Elf  <ro  vis  "EAI2SH?  jrtg)  r 

(**,  -         - 

fn  Llizse  Enigma,  - 

Media,  .         .- 

O  qui  bcnignHS,  &c.        - 
6 


ib. 

87$ 


ib. 
ib. 


ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


JD. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


ib. 

ib. 

881 

ib, 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Per  vitse  tenebm  rerutuque,  &c,      -        -  S8a 

Me,  Pater  Omnipotens,  &c.              -         -  ib. 

Dec.  <r.  1784.  Summe  Deus,  &c.      -         -  -  ib. 

Pfalmus  CXV1I ib. 

Seu  te  fxvat  iitis,  &c.  ib. 

Habeo,  dedi  quod  alteri,  &c.    -         -  ib. 

E.  Waltoni  Pifcatorc  perfe&o  excerptum,  ib. 

Quifquis  iter  tendis,  &c.           -         -  ib. 
Grxcorum   Epigrammatum  Verfiones  Me- 

tricae,                                        ,.  883 

Septem  States,      .....  886 


EPITAPHS. 


Page 


I.  At  Litchfield,     .....  ggy 

H.  At  Brothley  in  Kent,          ...  888 

HI.  In  Watford  Church,           -         -         -  ib. 

IV.  In  Strcathem  Church,        -  ib. 

V.  In  Weftminftcr  Abbey,      -         .         -  ib. 

VI.  Hie  Requiefcit  Thomas  Parnell,  S.  T.  P.  ib* 

VII.  On  rhe  Death  of  Stephen  Grey.F.  R.  S. 

the  Electrician,             -         .         _         -  ib. 


WORKS  OF  W.  WHITEHEAD. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-  891 


9°7 
909 


913 

017 


POEMS. 

The  Danger  of  writing  Verfe.  An  Epiftle, 
1741,  -  .  ...  $01 

Atys  and  Adraftus.     A  Tale,  1743,  -     903 

Ann  Boleyn  to  Henry  the  Eighth.  An  He 
roic  Epiftle,  I743i  ..  -  -  - 

On  Ridicule,  1743,          - 

On  No'bility.    An  Epiftle  to  the  Earl  of 

An  Hymn  to  the  Nymph  of  Briftol  Spring, 

Qn  Friendship,       - 

The  Dog.     A  Tale,         -         -         -         -  91* 

An  Epiftle  from  a  Grove  in  Derbyfhirc  to  a 

Grove  in  Sorry,      .     -         -         -         -  920 

The  Anfwer,          .....  921 

The  Enthufiaft,      -        -         -        -        -  922 

The  Youth  and  the  Philofopher.    A  Fable,  923 
To  a  Gentleman,  on  his  Pitching  a  Tent 

in  hi1*  Garden,              -         -         -  ib. 
The  Lark  :  A  Simile.     To  the  Reverend 

Mr. ,          -         -         -         -         -  924 

To  the  Hononrable  Charles  Townfend,     -  ib. 

To  the  Same.  On  the  Death  of  a  Relation,  $25 

To  Mr.  Garrick,  ib. 
Nature  to  Dr.  Hoadly,  on  his  Comedy  of 

the  Sufpicious  Hufband,        ...  926 

To  Richard  Owen  Cambridge,  Efq.            -  927 

To  Mr.  Mafon,      -         -         -         -         -  ib. 
To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lowth,  on  his  Life  of 

William  Wykeham,     ...         -  928 
To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wright,  1751,        -         -9*9 
Ode  to  the  Tiber,  on  entering  the  Campa 
nia  of  Rome,  at  Otricoli,  17551      •  ib. 

ELEGIES. 

Elegy  I.  Written  at  the  €onvent  of  Haut 
Villiers,  in  Champaigne,  1754,  -  -  93® 

Elegy  11.  On  the  Maufoleum  ot  Auguftus. 
To  the  Right  Honourable  George  B  fby 
Villiers,  Vifcount  Villiers.  Written  at 
Rome,  1756,  .  r  .  «  -  931 


Elegy  III.  To  the  Right  Honourable  George 
Simon  Harcourt,  Vifcount  Nuncham. 
Written  at  Rome,  1756, 

Elegy  IV.  To  an  Officer.  Written  at  Rome, 


Page 


-    931 


Elegy  V.  To  a  Friend  Sick.     Written  at 

Rome,  1756,      - 
Elegy  VI.    To  the   Rev.   Mr.   Sanderfon. 

Written  at  Rome,  1756,       - 


93* 

933 

ib. 


MISCELLANIES. 

Verfes  to  the  People  of  England,  1758,     - 

A  Charge  to  the  Poets.     Fit  11  Printed  in 
1762, 

Variety.     A  Tale  fer  Married  People, 

The  Goat's  Beard.     A  Fable, 

To  her  Grace  the  Duchefs  of  Queenfberry, 

Venus  attiring  the  Graces,        ... 

On  a  MeSTage-Card  in  Verfe,  fent  by  a 
Lady,  ...... 

On  the  Birth-day  of  a  Young  Lady,  Four 
Years  Old, 

The  Je  ne  f?ai  quoi.     A  Song, 

The  Double  Ccnqueft.     A  Song,      - 

Song  for  Ranelagh,          .... 

An  Infcription  in  the  Cottage  of  Venus,  at 
Middleton  Park,  Oxfordshire, 

The  fame  in  Englifh,       .... 

Hymn  to  Venus.  On  a  great  variety  of 
Rofes  being  planted  round  her  Cottage, 

Verfes  in  a  Hermitage  at  the  fame  place, 

Inlcri[.tion  for  a  Cold  Bath, 

Infcription  on  an  Oak,  at  Romely,  in  Dcr- 
byfhire,  ------ 

Infcription  for  a  Tree,  on  the  Terrace  at 
Nuneham,  Oxfordshire,  ... 

Infcription  on  the  Pedeftal  of  an  Urn,  erect 
ed  in  the  Flower-garden  at  >uncham, 
by  G.  S.  Harcourt,  and  the  Honourable 
Elizabeth  Vcrnon,  Vifcount  and  Vif- 
countefs  Nuneham,  Sacred  to  the  Me 
mory  of  Frances  Poole,  Vifcountefs  Pal- 
niwftoB,  "'.-"" 


935 

948 
g/O 
946 
947 


ib. 
ib, 
ib. 
ib. 


949 
ib. 


ib. 

ib. 

950 

ib. 


ib* 


Epitaph  in  Wefhmnfter- Abbey,  to  the  Me 
mory  of  Mrs.  Pritchard,  - 

On  the  late  Improvements  at  Nuneham, 
the  Seat  of  the  Earl  of  Harcourt, 

To  Lady  Nuneham,  now  Countefs  of  Har 
court,  on  the  Death  of  her  Sifter,  the 
Honourable  Catharine  Venables  Vernoh, 
June  1775,  -  -  - 

The  Battle  of  Argocd  Llwyfam, 

The  Swceperi,        - 

FATAL  CONSTANCY;  OR,  LOVE  IN  TEARS. 

A  Sketch  oft  Tragedy  in  tbe  Heroic  Taje. 
Advertisement,       -         -         -         -         -,954 


Page 

951 
ib. 

ib. 
953 
ib. 


OJc  I.  For  hii  Majefty's  Birth-day,  Nov. 

10.1758,  ..... 

Ode  II.  For  the  New-year,  1759,    "         ' 
Ode  III.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  Nov. 

10.1759,  ----- 
Ode  IV.  For  the  New-year,  1760,    -         - 
Ode  V.  For  the  New-year,  1761,    -         - 
Ode  VI.  tor  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June 

4,1761,    -     •   ..... 
Ode  VII.  For  the  New-year,  i;6z,  - 

Ode  VIII.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June 


Ode  !X.  For  the  New-year  1763,     -        - 
Ode  X.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June 


Ode  XI.  For  the  New-year  1765,  - 

Ode  XII.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June 

4,1-65,    -  -        -        -       - 

Ode  XI  11.    For    his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1766,  -         -         - 

Ode  XIV.  For  the  New-year  1767,  - 

Ode  XV.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June 

4,1767,  ..... 

Ode  XVI.  For  the  New-year  1768,  - 

Ode  XVII.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1768,  -         - 

Ode  XVIII.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1769,  ----- 
Ode  XIX.  For  the  New-year  1770,  - 

Ode  XX.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June 

4»  '77°,  ..... 

Ode  XXI.  For  the  NeW-year  1771,          - 
Ode  XXH.    For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1771,  ..... 
Ode  XXIII.  For  the  New-year  1772,  - 
Ode  XXIV.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1771,  . 

Ode  XXV.  For  the  New-year  1773,         - 
Ode  XXVI.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1773,  -         .         .         - 

Ode  XXVII.  For  the  New-year  1774,      - 
Ode  XXVIII.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-Jay, 

June  4,  1774,  - 

Ode  XXIX.  For  hi*  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1  775,  -         -         -         - 

Ode  XXX.  For  the  New-year  1776,        - 

Ode  XXXI.  For  his  Majeft/s  Birth-day, 

June  4,  17/6,  . 

Ode  XXXII,  For  the  Kew-year  1777,      - 


956 

957 

ib. 

958 

ib. 

959 
ib. 


ib. 

961 
ib. 

96a 

ib. 

ib. 

96.3 
ib. 

ib. 


964 
ib. 

ib. 
965 

ib. 


ib. 

967 
ib 

ib, 
968 

ib 


Page 
Ode  XXXIII.  Fof  hii  Majefly's  Birth-day, 

June  4.  1777,  ...  968 

Ode  XXXIV.  For  the  New-year  1778,  -  $69 
Ode  XXXV.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4.  1778,  -  -  -  -  ib. 

Ode  XXXVI  For  the  New-year  1779,  -  ib. 
Ode  XXXVII  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4  1779,  •  97« 

Ode  XXXVIII.  For  the  New-year  1780,  ib. 
Ode  XXXIX.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1780,  -  -  -  -  ib. 

Ode  XL.  For  the  New-year  1781,  -  971 
Ode  XLI.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1781,  ib. 

Ode  XL1I.  For  the  New-year  178*,  -  ib. 
Ode  XLIII.  Fpr  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

Juue4,  1781,  ....  974 

Ode  XL IV.  For  the  New-year  1783,  -  •  ib. 
Ode  XLV.  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1783,  -  973 

Ode  XLVI.  For  the  New-year  1784,  -  ib. 
Ode  XLVII  For  his  Majefty's  Birth-day, 

June  4,  1784,  ib. 

Ode  XL VIII.  For  the  New-year  1785,  -  974 

PROLOGUES    AND    EPILOGUES. 

Prologue  to  the  Roman  Father.  Spoken 
by  Mr.  Barry,  1750,  -  -  ib. 

Epilogue  to  the  fame.  Spoken  by  Mrs. 

Pritchard,  1750,  -  975 

Prologue  to  Every  Man  in  his  Humour. 

Spoken  by  Mr.  Garrick,  1751,  -  -  ib. 

Prologue  to  Creufa.     Spoken  by  Mr.  Rofs, 

'  J754, ib« 

Epilogue  to  the  fame.  Spoken  by  Mifs 
Haughton,  and  who  acfted  the  Pythia, 

1754, 976 

A  Second  Epilogue  to  the  fame.  Spoken 
by  Mrs.  Pritchard,  1754,  -  -  ,  -  ib. 

Prologue  to  the  Orphan  of  China.  Spoken 
by  Mr.  Holland,  1759,  -  -  -  ib. 

Prologue  to  the  School  tor  Lovers,  as  it  was 
intended  to  have  been  fpoken,  176*,  -  ib. 

Prologue  to  the  fame,  as  fpoken  by  Mr. 

Garrick,  1762,  -  977 

Epilogue  to  the  fame.  Spoken  before  the 
Dance  by  Mrs.  Yates  and  Mr.  Palmer, 
in  the  Characters  of  Araminta  and  Mod- 
ley,  1762,  -----  Jb. 

Prologue  to  Almida.  Spoken  by  Mr.  Red- 
difli,  1771,  ib. 

MISCELLANIES. 

(Not  included  in  the  Edition  of  tbe  Britifi  Poets, 
1790.) 

The  Vifion  of  Solomon,  -  978 

Verfes  to  the  Author's  Mother  on  her 

Birth-day,  -  979 

To  Dr.  Stebbing,  ....      ib. 

On  Churchill,       .  -         -         -         -         -       ib. 

A  Pathetic  Apology  for  all  Lanreats,  paft 
prefcnt,  and  to  come,  -  -  -  ib% 

Inscription  at  the  Gardens  at  Nunehani  in 
Oxfordfhire.  To  the"  Memory  of  Walter 
Clark,  Florift,  who  died  fuddeniy  near 
this  f pot,  1784,  -  -  980 


CONTENTS. 


WORKS  OF  JENYNS. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
-    983 


POEMS. 

The  Art  of  Dancing.  Infcribed  to  the 
Right  Hon.  the  Lady  Fanny  Fielding. 
Written  in  the  year  1730.  Cantp  1.  -  991 

Canto  II. -    993 

An  Epiftle,  written  in  the  Country,  to  the 
the  Right  Honourable  Lord  Lovelace, 
then  in  Town,  Sept.  1735,  -  -  995 

An  Effay  on  Virtue.     To  the  Honourable 

Philip  Yorke,  Efq.        -  997 

The  Modern  Fine  Gentleman.   Written  in 

the  year  1 746,  -  998 

The  Modern  Fine  Lady.     Written  in  the 

year  1750, 999 

The  Firft  Epiftle  of  the  Second  Book  of 
Horace  Imitated.  To  the  Right  Honour 
able  Philip  Lord  Hardwicke,  Lord  High 
Chancellor  of  Great  Britain.  Written  in 
the  year  1748,  -  1000 

To  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Chef- 
terfield,  on  his  being  inftalled  Knight  of 
the  Garter,  -  1003 

TO  a  Lady  in  Town,  foon  after  leaving  the 

Country,       -----  ib. 

To  a  Lady,  fent  with  a  prefent  of  Shells  and 

Stones  defigned  for  a  Grotto,  -         1004 

To  a  Lady,  in  Anfwer  to  a  Letter  wrote  in 

a  very  fine  hand,  -  1005 

To  the  Rignt   Hon.   the  Lady  Margaret 
Cavendifh  Harley,  prefented  with  a  Col 
lection  of  Poems,  -  ib. 
Horace,  Book  II.  Ode  XVI.    Imitated.  To 
the  Hon.  Philip  Yorke,  Efq.  foon  after 
the  general  Election,       -  ib. 
Horace,  Book  IV.  Ode  VIII.  Imitated.  To 

the  fame,       -----         1006 
To  the  Hon.  Mifs  Yorke,  on  her  Marriage 

to  Lord  Anfon,  April  25.  1748,       -  ib 

Chloe  to  Strephon.     A  Song,      -  ib 

A  Song,  -----         1007 

Another,  -----  ib 

The  Choice,     -----  ib 

To  a  young  Lady,  going  to  the  Weft  In 
dies,  ------  ib 


Page 


Chloe  Angling,          - 

Chloe  Hunting,          -  ib. 

On  Lucinda's  Recovery  from  the  Small 

Pox,  ib. 

Written  in  Mr.  Locke's  Eflay  on  Human 
Underloading,  -  ICO? 

Written  in  a  Lady's  Volume  of  Tragedies,        ib. 

Jupid  Relieved,         -  ib. 

The  Way  to  be  Wife.  Imitated  from  La 
Fontaine,  -----  ib. 

The  Snow- Ball.    From  Petronius  Afranius,      ib. 

Anacreon,  Ode  XX.  ...  ib. 

A  Tran  flat  ion  of  fome  Latin  Verfes  on  the 
Camera  Obfcura,  ...  10*10 

The  Temple  of  Venu*,       -  ib. 

On  a  Nofegay  in  the  Countefs  of  Coventry's 
Bread.  In  Imitation  of  Waller,  -  ion 

The  'Squire  and  the  Parfon  An  Eclogue. 
Written  on  the  coticlufion  of  the  Peace, 
1748,  ib. 

On  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul.  Tranflated 
from  the  Latin  of  Ifaac  Hawkins  Browne, 
Efq.  Book  I. 

Book  II.  -         -         I         -         . 

Written  in  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Ox 
ford's  Library  at  Wimple,  1729,  -  1018 

To  a  Nofegay  in  Pancharilla's  Breaft.  Writ 
ten  in  1 729,  -  -  .  -  I0i^ 

Given  t«  a  Lady  with  a  Watch  which 
(he  had  borrowed  to  hang  at  her  Bed's 
Head,  -  ao 

Belphegor.     A  Fable.     From  Machiavel,         ib. 

A  Dialogue  between  the  Right  Hon.  Hen 
ry  Pelham,  and  Madam  Popularity.  In 
Imitation  of  Horace,  Book  III.  Ode  IX.  iozi 

A  Simile,          -         -         a  1021 

A  Paflage  in  Oflian  Verfified,      -         -  ib. 

On  feeing  the  Earl  of  Cheftcrfield  at  a  Ball 
at  Bath.  Written  in  1770,  -  -  ib. 

The  American  Coachman,  -         -         1023 

Wrote  at  the  Countefs  of  Salisbury's  Af- 
fembly  1787,  -  ...  1024 

Epitaph  on  Samuel  John  Ion,        -         -  ib. 

On  a  late  execrable  Attempt  on  his  Majef- 
ty'sLife,       -----  ib. 


ICI5 


WORKS  OF  LOGAN. 


THE  Author's  Life,' 

POEMS. 

Ode  to  the  Cuckoo, 

Song.     The  Braes  of  Yarrow, 

Ode  on  :he  Death  of  a  Young  Lady, 


Page 
1027 

I03J 

ifa. 

1036 


Qde  to  Women, 
Oflian's  Hymn  to  the  Sun, 
Ode  Written  in  Spring, 
Song,  j>        f 

Ode  to  Sleep, 


Page 

1036 
I  37 

ib. 

1038 
ib. 


184* 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Ode  to  a  Young  Lady,       ...        1039 
Ode  to  a  Man  of  Letters,  -        -  ib. 

The  Lovers,  ....        1040 

A  Tale, 1041 

Monimia :  An  Ode,  ...         1044 

Ode  Written  in  a  Vifit  to  the  Country  in 
Autumn,      ....        -        1046 

HTMNS. 
Hymn  I.  The  Prayer  of  Jacob,  ib. 


Hymn  II.  The  Complaint  of  Nature, 
Hymn  III.  Trnft  in  Providence, 
Hymn  IV.  Heavenly  Wifdom, 
Hymn  V.          .... 

Hymn  VI 

Hymn  VII.       .... 

Hymn  VIII.      -        - 

Hymn  IX.        .... 


1047 

ib. 
1048 

ib. 

ib. 
IC49 

ib. 

ib. 


WORKS  OF  WARTON. 


Tm  Author's  Life, 


Page 

1053 


POEM  I. 


The  Triumph  of  Ifis.    Occafioned  by  Ifis, 

an  Elegy.    Written  in  1749,  -         ic6i 

Xlegy  on  the  Death  of  the  late  Frederick 

Prince  of  Wales,  ...         1063 

•Infcription  in  a  Hermitage  at  Anfley-Hall, 

in  Warwick/hire,  ...  ib. 

Monody.   Written  near  Stratford- upon- A- 

Von,  ib. 

On  the  Death  of  King  George  the  Second. 

To  Mr.  Secretary  Pitt,  -         -         1064 

On  the  Marriage  of  the  King  to  her  Ma- 

jefty,  1761,  .... 

On  the  Birth  of   the  Prince  of   Wales. 

Written  after  the  Inflallation  at  Wind- 

for,  in  the  fame  year,  1761,  -  ib. 

Verfes  on  Sir  Jolhua   Reynold's  Painted 

Window,  at  New-College,  Oxford, 


ODES. 

Ode  I.  To  Sleep,       - 
Ode  II.  The  Hamlet.    Written  in  Which- 

wood  Forcft,          -        ... 
Ode  III.  Written  at  Vale-Royal  Abbey,  in 

Chefhire,      .        . 
Ode  IV.  The  Firft  of  April,       . 
Ode  V.  Sent  to  Mr.  Upton,  on  his  Edition 

of  the  Faerie  Oncen,       ... 
tMeVl.    The  Suicide, 
Ode  VII.  Sent  to  a  Friend,  on  his  leaving 

a  Favourite  Village  in  Hampfliire, 
iWe  VI IL  The  Complaint  of  Cherwell, 
Ode  IX.    rheCrufade,       - 
Gdc  X.  The  Grave  of  King  Arthur, 

SONNETS. 

Sonnet  I.  Written  at  Winflade,  in  Hamp- 
Ihire,  -        .        .        _  r 

Sonnet  II   On  Bathing,  ~ 

Sonnet  III.    Written   in  a  Blank  Leaf  of 

Dug<iale •»  MonalUcon, 
Sonnet  IV.  Written  at  Stonehcnge, 
Sonnet  V.    Written    after  feeing    Wilton 

ngule,    -   .   » 


1066 

1*67 
ib. 

1068 
ib. 

1069 

1070 

ib. 

te7i 
1072 
1073 


10-5 
ib. 

ib. 
ib. 

ib 


Faye 

Sonnet  VI.  To  Mr.  Gray,  -  -  1075 
Sonnet  VII.  _-.-._  1076 
Sonnet  VIII.  On  King  Arthur's  Round  ' 

Table  at  Winchefter,      -       ,  -         .  ib. 

Sonnet  IX.  To  the  River  Lodon,        .  ib. 


MISCELLANIES. 

Verfes  Infcribed  on  a  beautiful  Grotto  near 

the  Water,  .... 

The  Pleafures  of  Melancholy, 
A  Panegyric  on  Oxford  Ale, 
New-Market*    A  Satire, 
The  Caftle    Barber's  Soliloquy.     Written 

in  the  late  War,  - 

The  Oxford  Newfman's  Verfes.— For  the 
Year  1760,  .... 

For  the  Year  1767, 
For  the  Year  1768, 
For  the  Year  1770, 
For  the  Year  1771, 
The  Phaeton  and  the' One  Horfe  Chair, 
Morning.  An  Ode.  The  Author  confined 

to  College,  1745, 
Ode  to  a  Grizzle  Wig.     By  a  Gentleman 

who  had  juft  left  off  his  Bob, 
Epiftle  from  Thomas  Hearn,  Antiquary,  to 
the  Author  of  the  Companion  to  the  Ox 
ford  Guide,  &c.  ... 
Infcription  over  a  Calm  and  Clear  Spring 

in  Blenheim  Gardens, 
Job,  Chap.  XXXIX.  ... 

The  Progrels  of  Discontent.     Written  at 

Oxford  in  the  Year  1746, 
Prologue  on  the  Old  Winchefter  Playhoufe, 

over  the  Butcher's  Shambles, 
A  Pailoral  in  the  Manner  of  Spcnfer.  From 

Theocritus,  Idyll.  XX. 
Ode  on  the  Approach  of  Summer, 
Ode  for  Mufic,  as  performed  at  the  Theatre 
in  Oxford,  on  the  ad  of  July  175 1.    Be 
ing  the    Anniverfary  appointed  by  the 
late  Lord  Crew,  Bjfliop  of  Durham,  for 
the  CommemoratioB  of   Benefadors  to 
the  Univerfiry,  . 

Ode  tot  tht  Mew-Y«ar,  178$, 


ib. 

ib. 


108* 
io3i 

!•&* 

ib. 

1083 

ib. 

ib. 

1084 

ib. 


ib. 


1087 

ib. 
ib. 


CONTENTS. 
Page 


UJc  for  his  Majefly's  Birth-day,  June  4th, 

1786, 1091 

Ode  for  the  New-year,  1787,  -         1093 

Ode  on  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June  4th, 

1787, ib. 

Ode  for  the  New-year,  1788,  -         1094 

Ode  on  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June  4th, 

1788, 1095 

Ode  on  hi»  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June  4th, 

1789,  -----  ib. 
Ode  for  his  Majefty's  Birth-day,  June  4th, 

1790,  -        -        -        -        -         1096 

TOEMATA. 

Mons  Catharinz,  pr«pe  Wintoniam,  1097 

Sacellum  Coll.  SS.  Trin.  Oxon.  Inftaura- 

tum,  &c.       .....  ib. 

Ex  Euripidis  Andromache,  -  -  *°99 

Meleagri  Epitaphium  in  Uxorura  ex  An- 

thologia,  .....  ib. 

Antipatri,  ex  Anthologia,  ib. 

Caryphilliade,  ex  Anthologia,  -  ib. 

Callimachi  ia  Crethida,  -  -  ib. 


Antipatri  ex  MSS.  Bodleianis  Anthol.  Ce- 

phal, 

Votum  Pani  Fa6tum,          ... 
In  Tumulum  Archilochi, 
Antipatri,  ex  Anthologia, 
Antipatri  Theflalonienfis  Eplgr. 
Ex  Anthologia,  Lib.  IV.  Cap.  XXXIII. 
Nymph  Font,  - 

Sub  Imagine  Panis  Rudi  Lapide, 
Homeri  Hymnus  ad  Pana, 
Ex  Poemata  de  Voluptatibus  Facultatibus 

Imaginatricis,         .... 
Ex  Poemate  de  Ratione  Salutis  Confervan- 

de,       -        -        -        .        -        - 
Puidari  Pythic  1.  Hieroni  JEtneo  Syracufio 

curru  Vic"h  .... 

Tn  Horta  Script.         .... 
Epitaphium,  - 

Apud  Hortum  Jucundiffimum  Wiotoni*, 
Ad  Somnnm,  - 

Qui  Fit  Mzcenas,  Sec.        ... 
Soanet  in  Imitation  of  Spenfer, 


"47 

Page 

1099 

lit* 

ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 

ib. 


HOI 

ib. 

ib. 
lies 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


WORKS  OF  COTTON. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 
lioj 


YI3JONS   IN   VER«E,    FOR  THE  ENTERTAINMENT 
AND  INSTRUCTION  OF  YOUNGER  MINDS. 


An  Epiftle  to  the  Reader, 

Slander.  Vifion  I.  Inscribed  to  Mifs  ****, 

Pleafure.     Vifion  II.  ... 

Health.     Vifion  III.  ... 

Content.     Vifion  IV.          ... 

Happinefs.     Vifion  V.        ... 

Friendfhip.     Vifion  VI.      ... 

Marriage.     Vifion  Vll.      ... 

Life.     Vifion  VIII. 

Death.     Vifion  IX.  ... 


1109 
mo 
mi 
1113 


Fable  I. 
row, 
Fable  II. 
Fable  III. 
Fable  IV. 
Fable  V. 
Fable  VI. 
Fable  VII. 


The  Scholar  and  the  Cat,  - 
Neptune  and  the  Mariners, 
The  Beau  and  the  Viper, 

The  Snail  and  the  Gardener, 
The  Farmer  and  the  Horfe, 


I  i  i  6 
1118 

1120 

1122 


FABLtS. 

The  Bee,  the  Ant,  and  the  Spar- 


1127 

1129 

ib. 

113° 


1  1.  7  a 


The  Lamb  and  the  Pig,     -         -        .        1135 
Death  and  the  Rake.     A  Dutch  Tale,  ib. 

The  Second  Ode  of  the  Second  Book  of 

Horace.     Infcribed  to  T.  V.  Efq.     .          1136 
The  Tentk  Ode  of  the  Second  Book,  ib. 


Page 
1137 

ib. 

ib. 

ib. 
ib. 


EPITAPHS. 

On  Robert  Clavering,  M.  D.      -        - 
On  Colonel  Gardiner,  who  was  Cain  at  the 

Battle  of  Preftonpans,  1745,    -         - 
On  Mr.  Selby,  of  Studham,         - 
On  a  Lady,  who  had   laboured    under  a 

Cancer,          -         -         ... 
On  Mifs  Gee,  who  died  October  35.  1736, 
On  Mr.  Thomas  Strong,  who  died  Dec.  26. 

i?3<5,  .....  ib- 

On  John  Duke  of  Bridgewatcr,  who  died 
in  the  aift  year  of  his  age,      -        -         II  |8 

MISCELLANIES. 

An  Invocation  of  Happinefs,  after  the  Ori 
ental  manner  of  Speech,  ttr. 

Time  and  Chance  happeneth  to  all,  Ecclef. 
ix.  ii.    •       -        -        •        -        -  ib. 

An  Enigma.    Infcribed  to  Mifs  P.      -         1139 

The  FSrefide,  ib. 

To  fome  Children  liftening  to  a  Lark,  1140 

To  a  Child  Five  Years  Old,         -         -  ib. 

On  Lord  Cobham's  Garden,  •  «b. 

To-  Morrow,  -    '    -         «         -  ib. 

An  Allufion  to  Horace,  Ode  XVI.  Book  II. 
Infcribed  to  H.  W.  Efq.  -         -         114* 

Rebufes,  -        -        -        -        -        H4» 

Some  hady  Rhymes  on  Sleep,     -         -  ib. 

A  Song,  114* 

A  Sunday  Hymn,  in  Iraiutitn  «f  Dr.  Watts,      in, 


CONTENT  8. 


An  Od<  on  the  Meffiah,    . 

A'.  Ode  on  the  ^Jew-year,          -         - 

Vcrics  addrefled  to  a  Young  Lady,  whofe 

favourite  Bird  was  almoft  killed  by  a  fall 

from  her  Finger, 
Riddles, 
Pfalm  XI II. 
Pfalm  XL1I.  - 


Page 

"43 

ib. 


1144 
ib. 

"45 

ib. 


The  Night  Piece,    "  -        - 

To  the  Rev.  James  Hervey,  en  his  Medi 
tations,  - 

Lines  under  a  Sun-Dial  in  the  Church-yard 
at  Thornby, 

To  the  Memory  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Samuel 
Clarke, 


Page 

1146 

ib. 

1147 

ib. 


WORKS  OF  BLACKLOCK. 


THE  Author's  Life, 


Page 


Horace,  Ode  I.    Imitated.  Tnfcribed  to  Dr. 
John  Stevenfon,  Phyfician  in  Edinburgh, 
Pfalm  I.     Imitated, 

An  Hymn  to  the  Supreme  Being,  in  imita 
tion  of  the  CIV.  Pfalm, 
Pfalm  CXXXIX.     Imitated,       - 
An  Hymn  to  Divine  Love.     In  imitation 

ofSpenfer,  -        -        -        - 

An  Hymn  to  Benevolence, 
An  Hymn  to.  Fortitude, 
The  Wim  Satisfied;     An  irregular  Ode, 
To  Happinefs.     An  Ode, 
On  Euanthe's  Abfenoe*  An  Ode, 
To  a  Young  Gentleman  bound  for  Guinea. 

An  Ode,      -        r        - 
An  irregufar  Ode.     Sent  to  a  Lady  on  her 

Marriage  Day,       -         .         .     "    _ 
To  a  Coquette.     An  Ode, 
On  the  Refinements  in  Metaphyfical  Philo. 
,  fophy.     A.n  Ode,  -         - 

To  Mrs.  R— — ,  on  the  Death  of  a  promif- 

ing  Infant.     An  Ode, 
An  Ode.     Written  when  Sick, 
To  Health.    An  Ode,         - 
To  a  Little  Girl  whom  I  had  offended.  An 
Ode.    Written  at  Twelve  years  of  Age, 
To  Lefbia.     Trapflated  from  Catullus, 
A  Tracflation  of  an  old  Scottifh  Song, 
Song.    To  the  tune  of  «  The  Braes  of  Bal- 

lendyne,"      -'._._ 
The  Ravifh'd  Shepherd.     A  Song, 
A  Paftoral  Song,       . 
On  the  Death  of  Stella.     A  Paftoral.     In- 

fcribed  to  her  Sifter,    ..... 
A  PaftoraL     Infcribed  to  Euanthe, 
The  Plaintive  Shepherd.  A  Paftoral  Elegy, 
pcfiderium  Lutetias;  from  Buchanan,  an 
Allegorical.Paaoral,  iq  which  he  regrets 
bis  abfence'frnm  Paris,  imitated,      - 
f  hilanthcs.  A  Monody.    Infcribed  to  Mifs 

) — y H — y, 

The  W,<h.     An  Elrpy.    To  Urania, 
Ou  the  Dtath  oi  Mr.  Pope.    An  Elegy 


1165 
1166 

ib. 
1168 

•  ib. 
1169 

ib. 
1171 
1171 

ib. 

"73 


1174 
ib. 


ib. 

1177 
ib. 

ib. 

1178 

ib. 

1179 
ib. 

iigo 


1185 
1186 


Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  Conftantia, 

A.  Soliloquy:  Occafioned   by  the   Author's 

efcape  from  falling  into  a  deep  Well, 
Mifs  *'***,  to  th'e  Author, 
The  Author's  Anfwer,        ... 
Epiftle  1.  To  the  fame.     From  Edinburgh,' 
Epiftle  II.  To  Dorinda.    With  Venice  Pre- 
^  ferv'd, 
Epiftle  III.  To  Mifs  Annie  Rae.  With  the 

Manual  of  Epidtetus",  and  Tablature  of 

Cebes,.  .         -         - 
To  Mifs  D.  H.  in  Anfwer  to  a  Letter  which 

fhe  wrote  the  Author  from  Dumfries, 
To  Mifs  A.  H.  on  her  Marriage, 
To  the  Rev   Mr.  Jamefon, 
An  Epitap_h  on  ihe  Author's  Father,'    -' 
To  Mrs.   Anne  Blacklock,   the    Author's 

Mother.     With  a  Copy  of  the  Scotch  E- 

dition  of  his  Poems,        -  -    ' 

Prologue  t»  Othello.  Spoken  by  Mr.  Love, 

.at  the   Opening  of    the   Playhoufe   in 

Dumfries,  -.        - 

Prologue  to  Hamlet.  Spoken  by  Mr.  Love, 

at  Dumfries,  .         -. 
To  a  Gentleman,  who.  aflced  my  Sentiments 

of  him.     An  Epigram,  '          -        - 
On  Punch,     An  Epigram., 
On  Marriage.    .An  Epigram,      - 
On  the  fame.     An  Epigram, 
Epitaph  on  a  favourite  Lap-Dog, 
The  Author's  Picture,        - 
Addrtfs  to  the  Ladies.  A  Satire.  Infcribed 

to  Mifs ,         -_.- 

Horace,  Ode  XIII.  Book  I.  Imitated, 

To  a  Lady.  With  Hammond's  Elegies.  An 

Elegy,  - 

Ode  to  Amynta,        - 

An  Elegy.  Infcribed  to  C S ,  Efq. 

To  John  McLaurin,  Efq.     With  the   Au 
thor's  Poems,         -         -         -         - 
Extempore  Verfes.   Spoken  at  the  defirc  of 

of  a  Gentlemen,  - 

To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spence,  Jate  Profcffur  of 

Poetry  at  Oxford.    Written  at  Dumfries 

in  the  year  1759,  -     \  - 

To  Dr.  Beattie.  With  the  Author's  Poems, 


"93 


ib. 

ib. 

ib. 

1194 

.b. 


H95 

ib. 

ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
1196 
ib. 
ib. 

ib. 


ib. 

ib. 

1209 

ib. 

izct 


I 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ogilvie,  -        -        1201 

To  a  Friend,  of  whofe  health  and  Succefs 
the  Author  had  heard,  after  a  long 
abfence,        -  1202 

The  Genealogy  of  Nonfenfe,       -        .  ib. 

Ode  on  Melifla's  Birth-day,         -         -         1203 

Ode  to  Aurora.     On  Melifla's  Birth-day,         ib. 

To  Dr.  Evans,  ....  ib. 

To  Mr.  Dalzel,  Profeffor  of  Greek  in  the 

Univerfity  of  Edinburgh,         -         -         1204 

To  Dr.  Downmaii,  in  London,  ib. 

To  the  fame,  ....         1205 

To  Melifla.     Written  in  the  year  1790,  ib. 

To  two  Sifters,  on  their  Wedding-day.  An 
Epiftle,  -  -  -  -  -  1206 

Eftimate  of  Human  Greatnefs.  In  imita 
tion  of  a  French  Epigram,  -  -  ib. 

To  her  Grace  the  Duchefs  of  Hamilton,  on 
her  Recovery  from  Child-bed,  after  the 
Birth  of  the  Marquis  of  Clydefdale,  ib. 

Ode  on  a  favourite  Lap-Dog,  To  Mifs 
G J ,  -  -  -  -  ib. 

To  a  Successful  Rival,  who  (aid  ironically, 
he  pitied  the  Author.  An  Ode,  -  1207 


Cato  Uticenfis  to  his  Wife  at  Rome, 

The  Chronicle  of  the  Heart.     In  imitation 

of  Cowley,  - 

Infcribed  to  a  Friend  :  In  imitation  of  Shen- 

ilone,  ..... 

Abfence  :  A  Song.     In  Imitation  of  Shen- 

ftone,  ..... 

Prologue  to  Sir. Harry  Gaylove, 
A  Panegyric  on  Great  Britain, 
The  Graham.    An  Heroic  Ballad.   In  Four 

Cantos.     Canto  I.          - 
Canto  II.  -        -        ... 

Canto  III.         - 

Canto  IV 

On  Dr.  Blacklock's  Birth-day.     By  Mrs. 

Blacklock,  -        ... 

From  Dr.  Downman  to  Mrs.  Blacklock. 

Occafioned  by  the  Copy  of  Verfes  fhe  ad- 

drefled  to  her  Hufband, 
From  Dr.  Downman  to  Dr.  Blacklock, 
To  Mr.  Thomas  Blacklock, 
An  Epiftle  from  Dr.  Beattie,  to  the  Rev. 

Mr.  Thomas  JBIacklock, 


1143 

Page 
1207 

ib. 

1208 

ib. 

12*9 

ib. 

1213 
1214 

1216 

1217 

1218 


ib. 

1219 
ib. 


32* 


APPENDIX. 

PIECES  OMITTED  IN  TEE  WORKS  OF  BRUCE. 
Page 


Eclogue  in  the  Manner  of  Ofiian, 

Ode  to  a  Fountain,             ...  1222 

Danilh  Ode,      -         -         -         -         -  ,         ib. 

Another,           -        -  ib. 

Ode  to  Paoli,             .....  wi^ 

TheLaftDay,           -  1224 


Page 


?hilocles  :  An  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Mr. 

William  Dryburgh,         ... 
lochleven  no  More.  To  the  tune  of  "  Loch- 

aber  no  More,"  ...         1229 

llegiac  Verfes  on  the  Death  of  Michael 

Bruce,  .....  ib, 


VOL.  XL 


PR 
1171 
A56 
v.ll 


Anderson,  Robert 

The  works  of  the  Britis! 
Poets 


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