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diff --git a/40444-0.txt b/40444-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a151c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/40444-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4781 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40444 *** + +THE + +UNION: + +OR, + +SELECT + +SCOTS and ENGLISH + +POEMS. + +THE SECOND EDITION. + +----_Dubiam facientia carmina palmam._ JUV. + +LONDON: + +PRINTED FOR R. BALDWIN, IN PATERNOSTER-ROW. + +M.DCC.LIX. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +As the mind of man is ever fond of variety, nothing seems better +calculated to entertain, than a judicious collection of the smaller, +though not on that account less laboured, productions of eminent poets: +an entertainment, not unlike that which we receive from surveying a +finished landschape, or well disposed piece of shell-work: where each +particular object, tho' singly beautiful, and sufficiently striking by +itself, receives an additional charm, thus, as Milton expresses it, +SWEETLY INTERCHANGED. + +The first miscellaneous collection of poems, that ever appeared in +Great-Britain with any reputation, is that published by Dryden: which +was afterwards continued by Tonson. There are many pieces of the highest +merit in this collection, by Dryden, Denham, Creech, Drayton, Garth, +Marvell, and many others; yet the compilers, it is evident, were not +always sufficiently scrupulous and cautious in their choice, as several +pieces are admitted, among the rest, which would otherwise utterly have +perished, and which had no other recommendation, than that they served +to swell the volume. Since this, many miscellanies have been published +both in Scotland and England: to enumerate which would be no less +tedious than useless. It will be sufficient to remark, that through want +of care or judgment in their respective editors, they are all forgotten +or neglected. From these the miscellany known by the name of Mr. Pope +perhaps ought to be excepted; tho' that, indeed, cannot properly be +styled a collection of poems by different hands, which is such a one as +we are speaking of at present, the greater part consisting of pieces by +Mr. Pope only. The best miscellany at this day extant in our language, +and the first complete one of the kind which we have seen, is that +lately published by R. Dodsley, which boasts the greatest names of the +present age among its contributors. + +As to the poetical collection here exhibited to the public, we apprehend +it challenges no small degree of regard, as it was made under the +immediate inspection and conduct of several very ingenious gentlemen, +whose names it would do us the highest honour to mention; and as it +contains a variety not to be found even in the admirable collection last +spoken of; I mean the Intermixture of poems both Scotch and English. Nor +is this variety less agreeable than useful; as from it we have an +opportunity of forming a comparison and estimate of the taste and genius +of the two different nations, in their poetical compositions. + +It will be necessary to take notice, that our chief care has been to +furnish out the following miscellany with those pieces, regard being +first had to real merit, which have laid unknown and unobserved from +their MANNER of publication; several of them having been printed by +themselves, and so perished as it were for want of bulk, and others lost +amid the rubbish of collections injudiciously made, and perhaps not +easily to be met with. Nor will it be improper to mention, that in order +to render our volume still more compleat, we have had the favour of some +original poems, written by a late member of the university of Aberdeen, +whose modesty would not permit us to prefix his name: one of which in +this edition is printed with many improvements, from a corrected copy. +And from these ingenious essays, the public may be enabled to form some +judgment beforehand of a poem of a nobler and more important nature, +which he is now preparing. Nor must we forget to return our public +thanks to this gentleman, for the service he has been to us, not only in +making this collection more excellent by his own contributions, but in +selecting such pieces of others as were suitable to our design. + +It is hoped that the ancient Scottish poems (amongst which THE THISTLE +AND THE ROSE, and HARDYKNUTE are more particularly distinguished) will +make no disagreeable figure amongst those of modern date; and that they +will produce the same effect here, as Mr. Pope observes a moderate use +of old words may have in a poem; which, adds he, is like working old +abbey-stones into a modern building, and which I have sometimes seen +practised with good success. + +Upon the whole, as we have been favoured with the best assistance in +compiling this volume, no further apology is necessary; and as the +approbation of the public has been already secured to these poems +separately, we hope they have no less reason to claim it, when thus +published together. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + Page + + The Thistle and the Rose, by W. Dunbar 1 + + Verses on the Death of Queen Caroline. + By Mr. Shipley 10 + + The Genealogy of Christ, by Mr. Lowth 13 + + A Fragment, by Mr. Mallet 24 + + The Eagle and Robin Red-Breast, a Fable, by + Archibald Scott, written before the Year 1600. 28 + + Ode to Fancy, by Mr. Joseph Warton 31 + + Ode to Evening, by the same 37 + + Ode to Evening, by Mr. Collins 39 + + Isis, an Elegy, by Mr. Mason of Cambridge 42 + + The Triumph of Isis, by Mr. Thomas Warton + of Oxford 47 + + A Love-Elegy, by Mr. Hammond 47 + + The Tears of Scotland, 1746. 62 + + An Elegy written in a country church-yard, by + Mr. Grey 65 + + On the Death of Prince Frederic. Written at + Paris, by David Lord Viscount Stormont 70 + + On the same, by Mr. James Clitherow of Oxford 75 + + Ode on the Approach of Summer, by a Gentleman + formerly of the University of Aberdeen 81 + + A Pastoral in the manner of Spenser, from + Theocritus, Idyll. 20. By the same 94 + + Inscribed on a beautiful Grotto near the Water 96 + + Love Elegy, by Mr. Smollet 97 + + A Panegyric on Oxford Ale, by a Gentleman + of Trinity College 99 + + The Progress of Discontent, by the Same. 105 + + Ode to Arthur Onslow, Esq; 109 + + Job, Chapter XXXIX. By a Gentleman of + Oxford 113 + + Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson, by Mr. + Collins 116 + + The Child-Birth, in the manner of Gay 119 + + On a Lady's presenting a Sprig of Myrtle to + a Gentleman, by Mr. Hammond 125 + + To a Young Lady with Fontenelle's Plurality + of Worlds 126 + + Ode on the Fifth of December, by Mr. + Christopher Smart 128 + + Part of the Prologue to Sir David Lyndesay's + Dream. Written in the Reign of King + James V. 129 + + Hardyknute, a Fragment 132 + + Ode. By Dr. Akenside, on Lyric Poetry 147 + + + + +A POEM IN HONOUR OF + +MARGARET + +DAUGHTER TO + +HENRY VII. OF ENGLAND, + +QUEEN TO + +JAMES IV. KING OF SCOTS. + +BY WILLIAM DUNBAR. + + + The Thistle and the Rose, + O'er flowers and herbage green, + By Lady Nature chose, + Brave King and lovely Queen. + + + I. + + When March with varying winds was overpast, + And sweet April had with his silver showers + Ta'n leave of Nature with an orient blast, + And lusty May, that mother is of flowers, + Had made the birds begin by tymous hours; + Among the tender odours red and white, + Whose harmony to her was great delight. + + + II. + + In bed at morrow, sleeping as I lay, + Methought Aurora with her ruby ene, + In at my window looked by the day, + And halsit me with visage pale and green; + Upon her hand a lark sang frae the spleen, + "Lovers, awake out of your slumbering. + "See how the lusty morning does upspring." + + + III. + + Methought fresh May before my bed upstood, + In weed depainted of ilk diverse hue, + Sober, benign, and full of mansuetude, + In bright attire of flowers, all forged new, + Of heavenly colour, white, red, brown and blue, + Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus' beams, + While all the house illumin'd with her leams. + + + IV. + + Sluggard, she said, awake anon for shame, + And in mine honour something thou go write; + The lark has done, the merry day proclaim, + Lovers to raise with comfort and delight; + Will nought increase thy courage to indite, + Whose heart sometime has glad and blissful been, + Songs oft to make, under the branches green? + + + V. + + Whereto, quoth I, shall I uprise at morrow, + For in thy month few birds have I heard sing, + They have mare cause to weep and plain their sorrow: + Thy air it is not wholsome nor benign, + Lord Eolus does in thy season ring, + So bousteous are the blasts of his shrill horn, + Among thy boughs to walk I have forborn. + + + VI. + + With that the lady soberly did smile, + And said, uprise and do thy observance: + Thou did promise in May's lusty while, + Then to describe the ROSE of most pleasance + Go see the birdis how they sing and dance, + And how the skies illumined are bright, + Enamell'd richly with new azure light. + + + VII. + + When this was said, away then went the Queen, + And enter'd in a lusty garden gent; + And then methought, full hastily beseen, + In sark and mantle after her I went + Into this garth most dulce and redolent, + Of herb and flower, and tender plants most sweet, + And the green leaves doing of dew down fleit. + + + VIII. + + The purple sun, with tender rayis red, + In orient bright as angel did appear, + Through golden skies advancing up his head, + Whose gilded tresses shone so wondrous clear, + That all the world took comfort far and near, + To look upon his fresh and blissful face, + Doing all sable frae the Heavens chace. + + + IX. + + And as the blissful sun drove up the sky, + All nature sang through comfort of the light, + The minstrels wing'd, with open voices cry, + "O Lovers now is fled the dully night, + "Come welcome day, that comforts ev'ry wight; + "Hail May! hail Flora! hail Aurora sheen, + "Hail Princess Nature! hail love's hartsome Queen! + + + X. + + Dame Nature gave an inhibition there, + To Neptune fierce, and Eolus the bold, + Not to perturb the water or the air, + That neither blashy shower, nor blasts more cold + Should flowers affray nor fowls upon the fold. + She bade eke Juno, Goddess of the sky, + That she the heaven should keep amene and dry. + + + XI. + + Also ordain'd that every bird and beast + Before her Highness should anon compear; + And every flower of virtue most and least, + And every herb of fair field far and near, + As they had wont in May from year to year; + To her their Queen to make obedience, + Full low inclining with due reverence. + + + XII. + + With that anon she sent the swift foot Roe, + To bring in alkind beast from dale and down; + The restless swallow order'd she to go, + And fetch all fowl of great and small renown, + And to gar flowers appear of all fassoun: + Full craftily conjured she the Yarrow, + Which did forth swirk as swift as any arrow. + + + XIII. + + All brought in were in twinkling of an eye, + Both beast and bird and flower before the Queen; + And first the Lion, greatest of degree, + Was summon'd there; and he, fair to be seen, + With a full hardy countenance and keen, + Before Dame Nature came, and did incline, + With visage bold, and courage leonine. + + + XIV. + + This awful beast was terrible of chear, + Piercing of look, and stout of countenance, + Right strong of corps, of fashion fair, but fear, + Lusty of shape, light of deliverance, + Red of his colour, as the ruby glance: + In field of gold he stood full rampantly, + With flower-de-lyces circled pleasantly. + + + XV. + + This Lady lifted up his claws so clear, + And lute him listly lean upon her knee, + And crowned him with diadem full dear, + Of radious stones most royal there to see, + Saying the King of all beasts make I thee; + And the protector chief in woods and shaws, + Go forth, and to thy lieges keep the laws. + + + XVI. + + Justice exerce, with mercy and conscience, + And let no small beast suffer skaith or scorns + Of greater beasts, that been of more puissance; + Do law alike to Apes and Unicorns, + And let no Bugle with his bousteous horns + Oppress the meek plough Ox, for all his pride, + But in the yoke go quietly him beside. + + + XVII. + + When this was said, with noise and sound of joy, + All kind of Quadrupeds in their degree, + At once cry'd LAUD, and then VIVE LE ROY, + Then at his feet fell with humility; + To him they all paid homage and fealty; + And he did them receive with princely laits, + Whose noble ire his greatness mitigates. + + + XVIII. + + Then crowned she the Eagle King of fowls; + And sharp as darts of steel she made his pens, + And bade him be as just to Whawps and Owls, + As unto Peacocks, Papingoes, or Cranes, + And make one law for Wicht Fowls, and for Wrens, + And let no fowl of rapine do affray, + Nor birds devour, but his own proper prey. + + + XIX. + + Then called she all flowers grew in the field, + Describing all their fashions and effeirs, + Upon the awful THISTLE she beheld. + And saw him guarded with a bush of spears, + Considering him so able for the wars, + A radiant crown of rubies she him gave, + And said, in field go forth, and fend the laif. + + + XX. + + And since thou art a King, be thou discreet, + Herb without value hold not of such price, + As herb of virtue and of odour sweet; + And let no nettle vile, and full of vice, + Her fellow with the goodly Flower-de-lyce; + Nor let no wild weed full of churlishness, + Compare her to the Lilly's nobleness. + + + XXI. + + Nor hold none other flower in such dainty + As the fresh ROSE, of colour red and white; + For if thou dost, hurt is thine honesty, + Considering that no flower is so perfyte, + So full of pleasaunce, virtue and delight; + So full of blissful angelic beauty, + Imperial birth, honour and dignity. + + + XXII. + + Then to the ROSE she did her visage turn, + And said, O lusty daughter most benign, + Above the Lilly thou art illustrious born, + From royal lineage rising fresh and young, + But any spot, or macul doing sprung; + Come bloom of joy, with richest gems becrown'd, + For o'er the laif thy beauty is renown'd. + + + XXIII. + + A costly crown with stones clarified bright, + This comely Queen did in her head inclose, + While all the land illumined of light; + Wherefore methought, the flowers did all rejoyce, + Crying at once, Hail to the fragrant ROSE! + Hail Empress of the herbs! fresh Queen of flowers! + To thee be glore and honour at all hours. + + + XXIV. + + Then all the birds they sang with voice on height, + Whose mirthful sound was marvellous to hear: + The Mavys sang, Hail ROSE most rich and right, + That does upflourish under Phebus' sphere, + Hail plant of youth, hail Prince's daughter dear, + Hail blossom breaking out of blood royal, + Whose precious virtue is imperial. + + + XXV. + + The Merle she sang, Hail ROSE of most delight, + Hail of all flowers the sweet and sovereign Queen: + The lark she sang, hail ROSE both red and white, + Most pleasant flower of mighty colours[1] twain: + Nightingals sang, hail Natures suffragan, + In beauty, nurture, and each nobleness, + In rich array, renown, and gentleness. + + + XXVI. + + The common voice uprose of warblers small, + Upon this wise, "O blessed be the hour + "That thou wast chose to be our principal, + "Welcome to be our Princess crown'd with pow'r, + "Our pearl, our pleasance, and our paramour, + "Our peace, our play, our plain felicity: + "Christ thee conserve from all adversity." + + + XXVII. + + Then all the concert sang with such a shout, + That I anon awaken'd where I lay, + And with a braid I turned me about + To see this court, but all were gone away; + Then up I lean'd me, halflings in affray, + Call'd to my Muse, and for my subject chose + To sing the royal THISTLE and the ROSE. + + +FOOTNOTE: + +[1] Alluding to the Houses of YORK and LANCASTER, which were +distinguished by the WHITE and RED ROSE, and united in the person of +Queen MARGARET. + + + + +VERSES ON THE DEATH + +OF QUEEN + +CAROLINE. + +BY MR. SHIPLEY. + + + Oblivion wraps not in her silent shade + All human labours. Virtue blooms a flower, + That Time's rough hand shall never violate. + Still CAROLINE shall live in faithful verse, + Sweet nurse of Memory, and in the voice + Of grateful Britain. These shall testify + How well her calm impartial rule supplied + A monarch's absence; these commemorate + Her soul contemplative of peaceful Truth + And nature, mindful midst the pomp of Courts + Of wise retirement, and the silent grove. + She stretch'd thro' length'ning shades thy spacious walks, + Delightful Richmond, and the terrass rais'd + Of regal grandeur, whence the eye discerns + Fair Thames with copious waters winding slow + Midst pastures, spreading herds, and villages + Of aspect neat, and villas wrapt in shades: + Fair scene of chearful peace! the lovely sight + Frequent she view'd, and bless'd the honour'd reign + Of her great Consort, provident and mild. + Now wander'd musing thro' the darkening depth + Of thickest woods, friendly to solemn thought: + Now o'er broad lawns fair opening to the sun. + Nor midst her rural plans disdain'd to mix + The useful arable, and waving corn + With soft turf border'd, and the lowly cot, + That half appears, in branching elms obscur'd. + Here beauty dwells, assembled from the scenes + Of various nature; such as oft inflam'd + With rapture Grecian bards, in that fair vale, + Thessalian Tempe, or thy favorite soil, + Arcadia, erst by awe-struck fancy fill'd + With wand'ring forms, the woodland Deities, + Light Nymphs and wanton Satyrs, faintly seen + Quick glancing thro' the shade at close of eve, + Great Pan, and old Silenus. Hither led + By solitary grief shall GEORGE recall + Th' endearing manners, the soft speech, that flow'd + From his lov'd Consort, virtue mix'd with love, + Prudence, and mild insinuating sense: + But chief her thoughtful breast of counsels deep + Capacious, nor unequal to the weight + Of Government. Such was the royal mind + Of wise ELIZA, name of loveliest sound + To British ears, and pattern fair to Kings: + Or she who rules the Scepter of the North + Illustrious, spreading o'er a barbarous world + The light of arts and manners, and with arms + Infests th' astonish'd Sultan, hardly now + With scatter'd troops resisting; she drives on + The heavy war, and shakes th' Imperial Throne + Of old Byzantium. Latest time shall sound + The praise of female genius. Oft shall GEORGE + Pay the kind tear, and grief of tender words + To CAROLINE, thus oft lamenting sad. + "Hail sacred shade! by me with endless woe + "Still honour'd! ever in my Breast shall dwell + "Thy image, ever present to my soul + "Thy faithful love, in length of years mature: + "O skill'd t'enliven time, to soften care + "With looks and smiles and friendship's chearful voice! + "Anxious, of Thee bereft, a solitude + "I feel, that not the fond condoling cares + "Of our sad offspring can remove. Ev'n now + "With lonely steps I trace the gloomy groves, + "Thy lov'd recesses, studious to recall + "The vanish'd bliss, and cheat my wand'ring thoughts + "With sweet illusion. Yet I not accuse + "Heav'n's dispensation. Prosperous and long + "Have been my days, and not unknown to fame, + "That dwells with virtue. But 'tis hard to part + "The league of ancient friendship, to resign + "The home-felt fondness, the secure delight, + "That reason nourish'd, and fair fame approv'd." + + + + +THE GENEALOGY OF CHRIST, + +AS IT IS REPRESENTED ON THE EAST WINDOW + +OF WINCHESTER COLL. CHAPEL. + +WRITTEN AT WINTON SCHOOL, BY DR. LOWTHE. + + + At once to raise our rev'rence and delight, + To elevate the mind, and please the sight, + To pour in virtue at th' attentive eye, + And waft the soul on wings of extacy; + For this the painter's art with nature vies, + And bids the visionary saint arise; + Who views the sacred forms in thought aspires, + Catches pure zeal, and as he gazes, fires; + Feels the same ardour to his breast convey'd, + Is what he sees, and emulates the shade. + Thy strokes, great Artist, so sublime appear, + They check our pleasure with an awful fear; + While, thro' the mortal line, the God you trace, + Author himself, and Heir of Jesse's race; + In raptures we admire thy bold design, + And, as the subject, own the hand divine. + While thro' thy work the rising day shall stream, + So long shall last thine honour, praise and name. + And may thy labours to the Muse impart + Some emanation from her sister art, + To animate the verse, and bid it shine + In colours easy, bright, and strong, as Thine. + Supine on earth an awful figure lies, + While softest slumbers seem to seal his eyes; + The hoary sire Heav'ns guardian care demands, + And at his feet the watchful angel stands. + The form august and large, the mien divine + Betray the [2]founder of Messiah's line. + Lo! from his loins the promis'd stem ascends, + And high to Heaven its sacred Boughs extends: + Each limb productive of some hero springs, + And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings. + Th' eternal plant wide spreads its arms around, + And with the mighty branch the mystic top is crown'd. + And lo! the glories of th' illustrious line + At their first dawn with ripen'd splendors shine, + In DAVID all express'd; the good, the great, + The king, the hero, and the man compleat. + Serene he sits, and sweeps the golden lyre, + And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire. + See! with what art he strikes the vocal strings, + The God, his theme, inspiring what he sings! + Hark--or our ears delude us--from his tongue + Sweet flows, or seems to flow, some heav'nly song. + Oh! could thine art arrest the flitting sound, + And paint the voice in magic numbers bound; + Could the warm sun, as erst when Memnon play'd + Wake with his rising beam the vocal shade: + Then might he draw th' attentive angels down, + Bending to hear the lay, so sweet, so like their own. + On either side the monarch's offspring shine, + And some adorn, and some disgrace their line. + Here Ammon glories; proud, incestuous lord! + This hand sustains the robe, and that the sword. + Frowning and fierce, with haughty strides he tow'rs, + And on his horrid brow defiance low'rs. + There Absalom the ravish'd sceptre sways, + And his stol'n honour all his shame displays: + The base usurper Youth! who joins in one + The rebel subject, and th' ungrateful son. + Amid the royal race, see Nathan stand: + Fervent he seems to speak, and lift his hand; + His looks th' emotion of his soul disclose, + And eloquence from every gesture flows. + Such, and so stern he came, ordain'd to bring + Th' ungrateful mandate to the guilty King: + When, at his dreadful voice, a sudden smart + Shot thro' the trembling monarch's conscious heart; + From his own lips condemn'd; severe decree! + Had his God prov'd so stern a Judge as He. + But man with frailty is allay'd by birth; + Consummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth: + Thro' all the soul tho' virtue holds the rein, + Beats at the heart, and springs in ev'ry vein: + Yet ever from the clearest source have ran + Some gross allay, some tincture of the man. + But who is he----deep-musing----in his mind, + He seems to weigh, in reason's scales, mankind; + Fix'd contemplation holds his steady eyes---- + I know the sage[3]; the wisest of the wise. + Blest with all man could wish, or prince obtain, + Yet his great heart pronounc'd those blessings vain. + And lo! bright glitt'ring in his sacred hands, + In miniature the glorious temple stands. + Effulgent frame! stupendous to behold! + Gold the strong valves, the roof of burnish'd gold. + The wand'ring ark, in that bright dome enshrin'd, + Spreads the strong light, eternal, unconfin'd! + Above th' unutterable glory plays } + Presence divine! and the full-streaming rays } + Pour thro' reluctant clouds intolerable blaze. } + But stern oppression rends Reboam's reign; + See the gay prince, injurious, proud and vain! + Th' imperial sceptre totters in his hand, + And proud rebellion triumphs in the land. + Curs'd with corruption's ever-fruitful spring, + A beardless Senate, and a haughty King. + There Asa, good and great, the sceptre bears, + Justice attends his peace, success his wars: + While virtue was his sword, and Heaven his shield, + Without controul the warrior swept the field; + Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd, + And half her swarthy Sons sad Ethiopia mourn'd. + But since thy flagging piety decay'd, + And barter'd God's defence for human aid; + See their fair laurels wither on thy brow, } + Nor herbs, nor healthful arts avail thee now, } + Nor is heav'n chang'd, apostate prince, but Thou.} + No mean atonement does this lapse require; + But see the Son, you must forgive the Sire: + He, [4]the just prince--with ev'ry virtue bless'd, + He reign'd, and goodness all the man possess'd, + Around his throne, fair happiness and peace + Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and smil'd in ev'ry face. + As when along the burning waste he stray'd, + Where no pure streams in bubbling mazes play'd, + Where drought incumbent on the thirsty ground, + Long since had breath'd her scorching blasts around; + The [5]Prophet calls, th' obedient floods repair + To the parch'd fields, for Josaphat was there. + The new-sprung waves, in many a gurgling vein, + Trickle luxurious through the sucking plain; + Fresh honours the reviving fields adorn, + And o'er the desart plenty pours her horn. + So, from the throne his influence he sheds, + And bids the virtues raise their languid heads: + Where'er he goes, attending Truth prevails, + Oppression flies, and Justice lifts her scales. + See, on his arm, the royal eagle stand, + Great type of conquest and supreme command; + Th' exulting bird distinguish'd triumph brings, + And greets the Monarch with expanded wings. + Fierce Moab's sons prevent th' impending blow, + Rush on themselves, and fall without the foe. + The pious hero vanquish'd Heav'n by pray'r; + His faith an army, and his vows a war. + Thee too, Ozias, fates indulgent blest + And thy days shone, in fairest actions drest; + Till that rash hand, by some blind frenzy sway'd, + Unclean, the sacred office durst invade. + Quick o'er thy limbs the scurfy venom ran, + And hoary filth besprinkled all the man. + Transmissive worth adorns the pious [6]Son, + The father's virtues with the father's throne. + Lo! there he stands: he who the rage subdu'd + Of Ammon's sons, and drench'd his sword in blood, + And dost thou, Ahaz, Judah's scourge, disgrace, + With thy base front, the glories of thy race? + See the vile King his iron sceptre bear---- + His only praise attends the pious [7]Heir; + He, in whose soul the virtues all conspire, + The best good son, from the worst wicked sire. + And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign, + Long-exil'd piety returns again; + Again, in genuine purity she shines, + And with her presence gilds the long-neglected shrines. + Ill-starr'd does proud Assyria's impious [8]Lord + Bid Heav'n to arms, and vaunt his dreadful sword; + His own vain threats th' insulting King o'erthrow, + But breathe new Courage on the gen'rous foe, + Th' avenging Angel, by divine command, + The fiery sword full-blazing in his hand, + Leant down from Heav'n: amid the storm he rode} + March'd Pestilence before him; as he trod, } + Pale desolation bath'd his steps in blood. } + Thick wrapt in night, thro' the proud host he past, + Dispensing death, and drove the furious blast; + Nor bade destruction give her revels o'er, + Till the gorg'd sword was drunk with human gore. + But what avails thee, pious Prince, in vain + Thy sceptre rescu'd, and th' Assyrian slain? + Ev'n now the soul maintains her latest strife, + And death's chill grasp congeals the fount of life. + Yet see, kind Heav'n renews thy brittle thread, + And rolls full fifteen summers o'er thy head; + Lo! the receding sun repeats his way, + And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day. + Tho' nature her inverted course forego, + The day forget to rest, the time to flow, + Yet shall Jehovah's servants stand secure, + His mercy fix'd, eternal shall endure; + On them her ever-healing rays shall shine; + More mild and bright, and sure, O sun! than thine. + At length, the long-expected Prince behold, + The last good King; in ancient days foretold, + When Bethel's altar spoke his future fame, + Rent to its base, at good Josiah's name. + Blest, happy prince! o'er whose lamented urn, + In plaintive song, all Judah's daughters mourn; + For whom sad Sion's softest Sorrow flows, + And Jeremiah pours his sweet melodious woes. + But now fall'n Sion, once the fair and great, + Sits deep in dust, abandon'd, desolate; + Bleeds her sad heart, and ever stream her eyes, + And anguish tears her, with convulsive sighs. + The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain, + Her hands, that rankle with the servile chain; + Till he, [9]Great Chief! in Heav'n's appointed time, + Leads back her children, to their native clime. + Fair liberty revives with all her joys, + And bids her envy'd walls securely rise. + And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread, + Again shall lift sublime thy sacred head. + But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view + A faint resemblance of the old in you. + No more th' effulgent glory of thy God + Speaks awful answers from the mystic cloud: + No more thine altars blaze with fire divine, + And Heav'n has left thy solitary shrine. + Yet, in thy courts, hereafter shalt thou see } + Presence immediate of the Deity, } + The light himself reveal'd, the God confess'd in Thee.} + And now, at length, the fated term of years + The world's desire have brought, and lo! the God appears. + The Heav'nly Babe the Virgin Mother bears, + And her fond looks confess the parent's cares. + The pleasing burden on her breast she lays, + Hangs o'er his charms, and with a smile surveys. + The Infant smiles, to her fond bosom prest, + And wantons, sportive, on the mother's breast. + A radiant glory speaks him all Divine, + And in the Child the beams of Godhead shine. + But now alas! far other views disclose + The blackest comprehensive scene of woes. + See where man's voluntary sacrifice + Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies! + Fixt to the Cross, his healing arms are bound, + While copious Mercy streams from every wound. + Mark the blood-drops that life exhausting roll, + And the strong pang that rends the stubborn soul! + As all death's tortures, with severe delay, + Exult and riot in the noblest prey. + And can'st thou, stupid man, those sorrows see, + Nor share the anguish which He bears for Thee? + Thy sin, for which his sacred Flesh is torn, + Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn; + Canst thou?--while nature smarts in ev'ry wound, + And each pang cleaves the sympathetic ground! + Lo! the black sun, his chariot backward driv'n, + Blots out the day, and perishes from Heav'n: + Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part, + And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart. + The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign, + And the cold clay-clad dead, start into life again. + And thou, O tomb, once more shalt wide display, + Thy satiate jaws, and give up all thy prey. + Thou, groaning earth shalt heave, absorpt in flame, + As the last pangs convulse thy lab'ring frame; + When the same God unshrouded thou shalt see, + Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and Majesty, + Ride on the clouds; whilst, as his chariot flies, + The bright effusion streams through all the skies. + Then shall the proud dissolving mountains glow, + And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow: + The molten deluge round the globe shall roar, + And all man's arts and labour be no more. + Then shall the splendors of th' enliven'd glass + Sink undistinguish'd in the burning mass. + And O! till earth, and seas, and Heav'n decay, + Ne'er may that fair creation fade away; + May winds and storms those beauteous colours spare, + Still may they bloom, as permanent as fair, + All the vain rage of wasting time repell, + And his Tribunal see, whose Cross they paint so well. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] JESSE. + +[3] SOLOMON. + +[4] JOSAPHAT. + +[5] ELISHA. + +[6] JOATHAM. + +[7] HEZEKIAH. + +[8] SENNACHERIB. + +[9] ZOROBABEL. + + + + +A + +FRAGMENT. + +BY MR. MALLET. + + + Fair morn ascends: fresh zephyr's breath + Blows liberal o'er yon bloomy heath; + Where, sown profusely, herb and flower, + Of balmy smell, of healing power, + Their souls in fragrant dews exhale, + And breathe fresh life in ev'ry gale. + Here, spreads a green expanse of plains, + Where, sweetly-pensive, Silence reigns: + And there, at utmost stretch of eye, + A mountain fades into the sky; + While winding round, diffus'd and deep, + A river rolls with sounding sweep. + Of human art no traces near, + I seem alone with nature here! + Here are thy walks, O sacred HEALTH! + The Monarch's bliss, the Beggar's wealth; + The seasoning of all good below, + The sovereign friend in joy or woe. + O Thou, most courted, most despis'd: + And but in absence duly priz'd! + Power of the soft and rosy face! + The vivid Pulse, the vermil grace, + The spirits when they gayest shine, + Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine! + O sun of life! whole heavenly ray + Lights up, and chears our various day, + The turbulence of hopes and fears, + The storm of fate, the cloud of years, + Till nature with thy parting light, + Reposes late in Death's calm night: + Fled from the trophy'd roofs of state, + Abodes of splendid pain and hate; + Fled from the couch, where, in sweet sleep, + Hot Riot would his anguish steep, + But tosses through the midnight shade, + Of death, of life, alike afraid; + For ever fled to shady cell, + Where Temperance, where the Muses dwell; + Thou oft art seen, at early dawn, + Slow-pacing o'er the breezy lawn: + Or on the brow of mountain high, + In silence feasting ear and eye, + With song and prospect, which abound + From birds, and woods, and waters round. + But when the sun, with noon-tide ray, + Flames forth intolerable day; + While Heat sits fervent on the plain, + With Thirst and Languor in his train; + (All nature sickening in the blaze) + Thou, in the wild and woody maze, + That clouds the vale with umbrage deep, + Impendent from the neighbouring sleep, + Wilt find betimes a calm retreat, + Where breathing Coolness has her seat. + There plung'd amid the shadows brown, + Imagination lays him down; + Attentive in his airy mood, + To every murmur of the wood: + The bee in yonder flow'ry nook; + The chidings of the headlong brook; + The green leaf quivering in the gale; + The warbling hill, the lowing vale; + The distant woodman's echoing stroke; + The thunder of the falling oak. + From thought to thought in vision led, + He holds high converse with the Dead; + Sages or Poets. See, they rise! + And shadowy skim before his eyes. + Hark! Orpheus strikes the lyre again, + That softened savages to men: + Lo! Socrates, the Sent of Heaven, + To whom its moral will was given. + Fathers and friends of human kind! + They form'd the nations, or refin'd, + With all that mends the head and heart, + Enlightening truth, adorning art. + Thus musing in the solemn shade; + At once the sounding breeze was laid: + And Nature, by the unknown law, + Shook deep with reverential awe. + Dumb silence grew upon the hour; + A browner night involv'd the bower: + When issuing from the inmost wood, + Appear'd fair Freedom's GENIUS good. + O Freedom! sovereign boon of Heav'n; + Great Charter, with our being given; + For which the patriot, and the sage, + Have plan'd, have bled thro' ev'ry age! + High privilege of human race, + Beyond a mortal monarch's grace: + Who could not give, who cannot claim, + What but from God immediate came! + + * * * * * + + + + +THE + +EAGLE + +A N D + +ROBIN RED-BREAST. + +A FABLE.[10] + +BY MR. ARCHIBALD SCOTT. + + + The Prince of all the feather'd kind, + That with spread wings out-flies the wind, + And tow'rs far out of human sight + To view the shining orb of light: + This Royal Bird, tho' brave and great, + And armed strong for stern debate, + No tyrant is, but condescends + Oft-times to treat inferior friends. + + One day at his command did flock + To his high palace on a rock, + The courtiers of ilk various size + That swiftly swim in chrystal skies; + Thither the valiant Tarsels doup, + And here rapacious Corbies croup, + With greedy Gleads, and sly Gormahs, + And dinsom Pyes, and chattering Dawes; + Proud Peacocks, and a hundred mae, + Brush'd up their pens that solemn day, + Bow'd first submissive to my Lord, + Then took their places at his board. + Meantime while feasting on a fawn, + And drinking blood from Lamies drawn, + A tuneful ROBIN trig and young, + Hard-by upon a burr-tree sung. + He sang the EAGLE's royal line, + His piercing eye, and right divine + To sway out-owre the feather'd thrang, + Who dread his martial bill and fang: + His flight sublime, and eild renew'd, + His mind with clemency endow'd; + In softer notes he sang his love, + More high, his bearing bolts for Jove. + The Monarch Bird with blitheness heard + The chaunting little silvan Bard, + Call'd up a Buzzard, who was then + His favourite, and chamberlain. + Swith to my treasury, quoth he, + And to yon canty ROBIN gie + As muckle of our current gear + As may maintain him thro' the year; + We can well spar't, and it's his due; + He bade, and forth the Judas flew, + Straight to the branch where ROBIN sung, + And with a wicked lying tongue, + Said ah! ye sing so dull and rough, + Ye've deaf'd our lugs more than enough, + His Majesty has a nice ear, + And no more of your stuff can bear; + Poke up your pipes, be no more seen + At court, I warn you as a frien. + He spake, while ROBIN's swelling breast, + And drooping wings his grief exprest; + The tears ran hopping down his cheek, + Great grew his heart, he could not speak, + No for the tinsel of reward, + But that his notes met no regard: + Strait to the shaw he spread his wing, + Resolv'd again no more to sing, + Where princely bounty is supprest + By such with whom They are opprest; + Who cannot bear (because they want it) + That ought should be to merit granted. + + +FOOTNOTE: + +[10] Written before the year 1600. + + + + +O D E + +TO + +FANCY. + +BY THE REV. MR. JOSEPH WARTON. + + + O Parent of each lovely muse, + Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse! + O'er all my artless songs preside, + My footsteps to thy temple guide! + To offer at thy turf-built shrine, + In golden cups no costly wine; + No murder'd fatling of the flock, + But flowers and honey from the rock. + O nymph with loosely-flowing hair, + With buskin'd leg, and bosom bare; + Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound, + Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd, + Waving in thy snowy hand + An all-commanding magic wand; + Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens blow + 'Mid chearless Lapland's barren snow; + Whose rapid wings thy flight convey, + Thro' air, and over earth and sea: + While the vast various landscape lies + Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes; + O lover of the desart, hail! + Say, in what deep and pathless vale: + Or on what hoary mountain's side, + 'Midst falls of water you reside: + 'Midst broken rocks, a rugged scene, + With green and grassy dales between: + 'Midst forest dark of aged oak, + Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke; + Where never human art appear'd, + Nor ev'n one straw-rooft cott was rear'd; + Where Nature seems to sit alone, + Majestic on a craggy throne. + Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer, tell, + To thy unknown sequester'd cell, + Where woodbines cluster round the door, + Where shells and moss o'erlay the floor; + And on whose top an hawthorn blows, + Amid whose thickly-woven boughs + Some nightingale still builds her nest, + Each ev'ning warbling thee to rest. + Then lay me by the haunted stream, + Wrapt in some wild, poetic dream; + In converse while methinks I rove + With Spencer thro' a fairy grove; + Till suddenly awak'd, I hear + Strange whisper'd music in my ear; + And my glad soul in bliss is drown'd, + By the sweetly-soothing sound! + Me, Goddess, by the right-hand lead, + Sometimes thro' the yellow mead; + Where Joy, and white-rob'd Peace resort, + And Venus keeps her festive court, + Where Mirth and Youth each evening meet, + And lightly trip with nimble feet, + Nodding their lilly-crowned heads, + Where Laughter rose-lip'd Hebe leads: + Where Echo walks steep hills among, + List'ning to the shepherd's song. + Yet not these flow'ry fields of joy, + Can long my pensive mind employ; + Haste, FANCY, from the scenes of folly, + To meet the matron Melancholy! + Goddess of the tearful eye, + That loves to fold her arms and sigh; + Let us with silent footsteps go + To charnels, and the house of woe; + To gothic churches, vaults and tombs, + Where each sad night some virgin comes, + With throbbing breast and faded cheek, + Her promis'd bridegroom's urn to seek. + Or to some Abby's mould'ring tow'rs, + Where, to avoid cold wintry show'rs, + The naked beggar shivering lies, + While whistling tempests round her rise, + And trembles, lest the tottering wall + Should on her sleeping infants fall. + Now let us louder strike the lyre, + For my heart glows with martial fire; + I feel, I feel, with sudden heat, + My big tumultuous bosom beat; + The trumpet's clangors pierce my ear, + A thousand widows' shrieks I hear: + Give me another horse I cry, + Lo! the base Gallic squadrons fly; + Whence is this rage?----what spirit, say, + To battle hurries me away? + 'Tis FANCY, in her fiery car, + Transports me to the thickest war; + There whirls me o'er the hills of slain, + Where tumult and destruction reign; + Where mad with pain, the wounded steed, + Tramples the dying and the dead; + Where giant Terror stalks around, + With sullen joy surveys the ground, + And pointing to th' ensanguin'd field, + Shakes his dreadful Gorgon-shield. + O guide me from this horrid scene + To high-archt walks, and alleys green, + Which lovely Laura seeks, to shun + The fervors of the mid-day sun. + The pangs of absence, O remove, + For thou can'st place me near my love. + Can'st fold in visionary bliss, + And let me think I steal a kiss; + While her ruby lips dispense + Luscious nectar's quintessence. + When young-eyed spring profusely throws + From her green lap the pink and rose; + When the soft turtle of the dale + To Summer tells her tender tale, + When Autumn cooling caverns seeks, + And stains with wine his jolly cheeks, + When Winter, like poor pilgrim old, + Shakes his silver beard with cold; + At every season, let my ear + Thy solemn whispers, FANCY, hear. + O warm enthusiastic maid, + Without thy powerful, vital aid, + That breathes an energy divine, + That gives a soul to every line, + Ne'er may I strive with lips profane, + To utter an unhallow'd strain; + Nor dare to touch the sacred string, + Save, when with smiles thou bid'st me sing. + O hear our prayer, O hither come + From thy lamented Shakespear's tomb, + On which thou lov'st to sit at eve, + Musing o'er thy darling's grave. + O queen of numbers, once again + Animate some chosen swain, + Who fill'd with unexhausted fire, + May boldly smite the sounding lyre, + Who with some new, unequall'd song, + May rise above the rhyming throng. + O'er all our list'ning passions reign, + O'erwhelm our souls with joy and pain: + With terror shake, and pity move, + Rouze with revenge, or melt with love. + O deign t' attend his evening walk, + With him in groves and grottos talk; + Teach him to scorn, with frigid art, + Feebly to touch th' enraptur'd heart; + Like light'ning, let his mighty verse + The bosom's inmost foldings pierce; + With native beauties win applause, + Beyond cold critic's studied laws: + O let each Muse's fame encrease, + O bid Britannia rival Greece! + + + + +ODE + +TO + +EVENING. + +BY THE SAME. + + + I. + + Hail meek-ey'd Maiden, clad in sober grey, + Whose soft approach the weary wood-man loves; + As homeward bent to kiss his prattling babes, + Jocund he whistles through the twilight groves. + + + II. + + When Phæbus sinks behind the gilded hills; + You lightly o'er the misty meadows walk; + The drooping daisies bathe in dulcet dews, + And nurse the nodding violet's tender stalk. + + + III. + + The panting Dryads, that in day's fierce heat + To inmost bow'rs, and cooling caverns ran; + Return to trip in wanton ev'ning dance, + Old Sylvan too returns, and laughing Pan. + + + IV. + + To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair, + Light skims the swallow o'er the watry scene; + And from the sheep-cote, and fresh furrow'd-field, + Stout ploughmen meet to wrestle on the green. + + + V. + + The swain, that artless sings on yonder rock, + His supping sheep, and lengthening shadow spies; + Pleas'd with the cool the calm refreshful hour, + And with hoarse humming of unnumber'd flies. + + + VI. + + Now ev'ry Passion sleeps: desponding Love, + And pining Envy, ever-restless Pride; + An holy Calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul, + Anger and mad Ambition's storms subside. + + + VII. + + O modest EVENING! oft let me appear + A wandering votary in thy pensive train; + Listening to every wildly-warbling note, + That fills with farewel sweet thy darkening plain. + + + + +ODE + +TO + +EVENING. + +BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. + + + If ought of oaten stop, or pastoral song, + May hope, chaste Eve, to sooth thy modest ear; + Like thy own solemn springs, + Thy springs, and dying gales, + O Nymph reserv'd, while now the bright-hair'd sun + Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, + With brede ethereal wove, + O'erhang his wavy bed: + Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey'd bat, + With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, + Or where the beetle winds + His small but sullen horn, + As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, + Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum; + Now teach me, Maid compos'd, + To breathe some soften'd strain, + Whose numbers stealing thro' thy darkening vale, + May not unseemly with it's stillness suit, + As musing slow, I hail + Thy genial lov'd return! + For when thy folding star arising shews + His paly circlet, at his warning lamp + The fragrant Hours, and Elves + Who slept in flowers the day, + And many a Nymph who wreaths her brows with sedge, + And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and lovelier still, + The Pensive Pleasure's sweet + Prepare thy shadowy car. + Then lead, calm Votress, where some sheety lake + Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallow'd pile, + Or up-land fallows grey + Reflect its last cool gleam. + But when chill blustering winds, or driving rain, + Forbid my willing feet; be mine the hut, + That from the mountain's side, + Views wilds, and swelling floods, + And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, + And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all + Thy dewy fingers draw + The gradual dusky veil. + While spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he wont, + And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! + While Summer loves to sport, + Beneath thy ling'ring light: + While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; + Or Winter yelling through the troublous air, + Affrights thy shrinking train, + And rudely rends thy robes; + So long, sure-found beneath thy sylvan shed, + Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lip'd Health, + Thy gentlest influence own, + And hymn thy fav'rite name! + + + + +ISIS. + +AN + +ELEGY. + +WRITTEN BY MR. MASON OF CAMBRIDGE, 1748. + + + Far from her hallow'd grot, where mildly bright, + The pointed crystals shot their trembling light, + From dripping moss where sparkling dew-drops fell, + Where coral glow'd, where twin'd the wreathed shell, + Pale ISIS lay; a willow's lowly shade + Spread its thin foliage o'er the sleeping maid; + Clos'd was her eye, and from her heaving breast + In careless folds loose flow'd her zoneless vest; + While down her neck her vagrant tresses flow, + In all the awful negligence of woe; + Her urn sustain'd her arm, that sculptur'd vase + Where Vulcan's art had lavish'd all its grace; + Here, full with life, was heav'n-taught Science seen, + Known by the laurel wreath, and musing mien: + There cloud-crown'd Fame, here Peace sedate and bland, + Swell'd the loud trump, and wav'd the olive wand; + While solemn domes, arch'd shades, and vistas green, + At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene. + On this the Goddess cast an anxious look, + Then dropt a tender tear, and thus she spoke: + Yes, I could once with pleas'd attention trace + The mimic charms of this prophetic vase; + Then lift my head, and with enraptur'd eyes + View on yon plain the real glories rise. + Yes, ISIS! oft hast thou rejoic'd to lead + Thy liquid treasures o'er yon fav'rite mead; + Oft hast thou stopt thy pearly car to gaze, + While ev'ry Science nurs'd it's growing bays; + While ev'ry Youth with fame's strong impulse fir'd, + Prest to the goal, and at the goal untir'd, + Snatch'd each celestial wreath, to bind his brow, + The Muses, Graces, Virtues could bestow. + E'en now fond Fancy leads th' ideal train, + And ranks her troops on Mem'ry's ample plain; + See! the firm leaders of my patriot line, + See! SIDNEY, RALEIGH, HAMDEN, SOMERS shine. + See HOUGH superior to a tyrant's doom + Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome, + Each soul whom truth could fire, or virtue move, + Each breast, strong panting with it's country's love, + All that to Albion gave the heart or head, + That wisely counsel'd, or that bravely bled, + All, all appear; on me they grateful smile, + The well-earn'd prize of every virtuous toil + To me with filial reverence they bring, + And hang fresh trophies o'er my honour'd spring. + Ah! I remember well yon beachen spray, + There ADDISON first tun'd his polish'd lay; + 'Twas there great CATO'S form first met his eye, + In all the pomp of free-born majesty; + "My son, he cry'd, observe this mein with awe, + "In solemn lines the strong resemblance draw; + "The piercing notes shall strike each British ear; + "Each British eye shall drop the patriot tear! + "And rous'd to Glory by the nervous strain, + "Each Youth shall spurn at slav'ry's abject reign, + "Shall guard with CATO'S zeal Britannia's laws, + "And speak, and act, and bleed in freedom's cause." + The Hero spoke; the bard assenting bow'd + The lay to liberty and CATO flow'd; + While Echo, as she rov'd the vale along, + Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman song. + But ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground, + How mute Attention check'd each rising sound; + Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray, + Scarce trill'd sweet Philomel her softest lay, + When LOCKE walk'd musing forth; e'en now I view + Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow, + View Candor smile upon his modest cheek, + And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break. + 'Twas here the sage his manly zeal exprest, + Here stript vain falshood of her gaudy vest; + Here Truth's collected beams first fill'd his mind, + E'er long to burst in blessings on mankind; + E'er long to shew to reason's purged eye, + That "NATURE'S FIRST BEST GIFT WAS LIBERTY." + Proud of this wond'rous son, sublime I stood, + (While louder surges swell'd my rapid flood) + Then vain as Niobe, exulting cry'd, + Ilissus! roll thy fam'd Athenian tide; + Tho' Plato's steps oft mark'd thy neighb'ring glade, + Tho' fair Lycæum lent it's awful shade, + Tho' ev'ry Academic green imprest + It's image full on thy reflecting breast, + Yet my pure stream shall boast as proud a name, + And Britain's ISIS flow with Attic fame. + Alas! how chang'd! where now that Attic boast? + See! Gothic Licence rage o'er all my coast; + See! Hydra Faction spread it's impious reign, + Poison each breast, and madden ev'ry brain: + Hence frontless crouds, that not content to fright + The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night, + Blast the fair face of day; and madly bold, + To Freedom's foes infernal orgies hold; + To Freedom's foes, ah! see the goblet crown'd, + Hear plausive shouts to Freedom's foes resound; + The horrid notes my refluent waters daunt, + The Echoes groan, the Dryads quit their haunt; + Learning, that once to all diffus'd her beam, + Now sheds, by stealth, a partial private gleam, + In some lone cloister's melancholy shade, + Where a firm few support her sickly head, + Despis'd, insulted by the barb'rous train, + Who scour like Thracia's moon-struck rout the plain, + Sworn foes like them to all the Muse approves, + All Phæbus favours, or Minerva loves. + Are these the sons my fost'ring breast must rear, + Grac'd with my name, and nurtur'd by my care? + Must these go forth from my maternal hand + To deal their insults thro' a peaceful land, + And boast while Freedom bleeds, and Virtue groans, + That "ISIS taught Rebellion to her Sons?" + Forbid it heaven! and let my rising waves + Indignant swell, and whelm the recreant slaves! + In England's cause their patriot floods employ, + As Xanthus delug'd in the cause of Troy. + Is this deny'd? then point some secret way + Where far far hence these guiltless streams may stray; + Some unknown channel lend, where Nature spreads + Inglorious vales, and unfrequented meads, + There, where a hind scarce tunes his rustic strain, + Where scarce a pilgrim treads the pathless plain, + Content I'll flow; forget that e'er my tide + Saw yon majestic structures crown it's side; + Forget, that e'er my rapt attention hung + Or on the Sage's or the Poet's tongue; + Calm and resign'd my humbler lot embrace, + And pleas'd, prefer oblivion to disgrace. + + + + +THE + +TRIUMPH + +OF + +ISIS. + +OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING POEM. + +BY MR. THOMAS WARTON, OF OXFORD. + + _Quid mihi nescio quam, proprio cum Tybride Romam, + Semper in ore geris? referunt si vera parentes, + Hanc urbem insano nullus qui marte petivit + Lætatus violasse redit. Nec numina sedem + Destituunt._---- CLAUDIAN. + + + On closing flow'rs when genial gales diffuse + The fragrant tribute of refreshing dews; + When chaunts the milk-maid at her balmy pail, + And weary reapers whistle o'er the vale; + Charm'd by the murmurs of the quiv'ring shade, + O'er ISIS' willow-fringed banks I stray'd: + And calmly musing thro' the twilight way, + In pensive mood I fram'd the Doric lay. + When lo! from op'ning clouds, a golden gleam + Pour'd sudden splendors o'er the shadowy stream; + And from the wave arose it's guardian queen, + Known by her sweeping stole of glossy green; + While in the coral crown that bound her brow, + Was wove the Delphic laurel's verdant bough. + As the smooth surface of the dimply flood, + The silver-slipper'd ISIS lightly trod, + From her loose hair the dropping dew she press'd, + And thus mine ear in accents mild address'd. + No more, my son, the rural reed employ, + Nor trill the trifling strain of empty joy; + No more thy love-resounding sonnets suit + To notes of pastoral pipe or oaten flute. + For hark! high-thron'd on yon majestic walls, + To the dear Muse afflicted Freedom calls: + When Freedom calls, and OXFORD bids thee sing, + Why stays thy hand to strike the sounding string? + While thus, in Freedom's and in Phoebus' spite, + The venal sons of slavish CAM, unite; + To shake yon tow'rs, when Malice rears her crest, + Shall all my sons in silence idly rest? + Still sing, O CAM, your fav'rite Freedom's cause; + Still boast of Freedom, while you break her laws: + To pow'r your songs of Gratulation pay, + To courts address soft flattery's soothing lay. + What tho' your gentle MASON'S plaintive verse + Has hung with sweetest wreaths MUSÆUS' hearse; + What tho' your vaunted bard's ingenuous woe, + Soft as my stream, in tuneful numbers flow? + Yet strove his Muse, by same or envy led, + To tear the laurels from a sister's head?---- + Misguided youth! with rude unclassic rage + To blot the beauties of thy whiter page; + A rage that sullies e'en thy guiltless lays, + And blasts the vernal bloom of half thy bays. + Let GRANTA boast the patrons of her name, + Each pompous fool of fortune and of fame: + Still of preferment let her shine the queen, + Prolific parent of each bowing dean: + Be her's each prelate of the pamper'd cheek, + Each courtly chaplain sanctify'd and sleek; + Still let the drones of her exhaustless hive, + On fat pluralities supinely thrive: + Still let her senates titled slaves revere, + Nor dare to know the patriot from the peer; + For tinsel'd courts their laurel'd mount despise, + In stars and strings superlatively wise: + No longer charm'd by virtue's golden lyre, + Who sung of old amid th'Aonian choir, + Where CAM, slow winding thro' the breezy reeds, + With kindly wave his groves of laurel seeds. + 'Tis ours, my son, to deal the sacred bay, + Where Honour calls, and Justice points the way; + To wear the well-earn'd wreath which merit brings. + And snatch a gift beyond the reach of kings. + Scorning, and scorn'd by courts, yon Muses' bow'r + Still nor enjoys, nor asks the smile of pow'r. + Tho' wakeful Vengeance watch my chrystal spring, + Tho' persecution wave her iron wing, + And o'er yon spiry temples as she flies, + "These destin'd feats be mine" exulting cries; + On ISIS still each gift of fortune waits, + Still peace and plenty deck my beauteous gates. + See Science walks with freshest chaplets crown'd; + With songs of joy my festal groves resound; + My muse divine, still keeps her wonted state, + The front erect, and high majestic gait: + Green as of old, each oliv'd portal smiles, + And still the graces build my Parian piles: + My Gothic spires in ancient grandeur rise, + And dare with wonted pride to rush into the skies. + Ah should'st thou fall (forbid it heav'nly pow'rs!) + Dash'd into dust with all thy cloud-capt tow'rs; + Who but would mourn to British virtue dear, + What patriot could refuse the manly tear! + What British MARIUS could refrain to weep + O'er mighty CARTHAGE fall'n, a prostrate heap! + E'en late when RADCLIFFE'S delegated train + Auspicious shone in ISIS' happy plain; + When yon proud [11]dome, fair Learning's amplest shrine, + Beneath its Attic roofs receiv'd the Nine; + Mute was the voice of joy and loud applause, + To RADCLIFFE due, and ISIS' honour'd cause? + What free-born crouds adorn'd the festive day, + Nor blush'd to wear my tributary bay! + How each brave breast with honest ardors heav'd, + When SHELDON'S fane the patriot band receiv'd; + While, as we loudly hail'd the chosen few, + Rome's awful senate rush'd upon our view! + O may the day in latest annals shine, + That made a BEAUFORT, and an HARLEY mine: + Then bade them leave the loftier scene awhile, + The pomp of guiltless state, the patriot toil, + For bleeding Albion's aid the sage design, + To hold short dalliance with the tuneful Nine. + Then Music left her golden sphere on high, + And bore each strain of triumph from the sky; + Swell'd the full song, and to my chiefs around, + Pour'd the full Pæans of mellifluous sound. + My Naiads blythe the floating accents caught, + And list'ning danc'd beneath their pearly grot: + In gentler eddies play'd my wanton wave, + And all my reeds their softest whispers gave; + Each lay with brighter green adorn'd my bow'rs, + And breath'd a fresher fragrance on my flow'rs. + But lo! at once the swelling concerts cease, + And crouded theatres are hush'd in peace. + See, on yon sage how all attentive stand, + To catch his darting eye, and waving hand. + Hark! he begins, with all a TULLY'S art + To pour the dictates of a CATO'S heart. + Skill'd to pronounce what noblest thoughts inspire, + He blends the speaker's with the patriot's fire; + Bold to conceive, nor tim'rous to conceal, + What Britons dare to think, he dares to tell. + 'Tis his alike the ear and eye to charm, + To win with action, and with sense to warm; + Untaught in flow'ry diction to dispense + The lulling sounds of sweet impertinence; + In frowns or smiles he gains an equal prize, + Nor meanly fears to fall, nor creeps to rise; + Bids happier days to ALBION be restor'd, + Bids ancient Justice rear her radiant sword; + From me, as from my country, wins applause, + And makes an OXFORD'S a BRITANNIA'S cause. + While arms like these my steadfast sages wield, + While mine is Truth's impenetrable shield; + Say, shall the PUNY CHAMPION fondly dare + To wage with force like this, scholastic war? + Still vainly scribble on with pert pretence, + With all the rage of pedant impotence? + Say, shall I foster this domestic pest, + This parricide that wounds a mother's breast? + Thus in the stately ship that long has bore + Britain's victorious cross from shore to shore, + By chance, beneath her close sequester'd cells, + Some low-born worm, a lurking mischief dwells; + Eats his blind way, and saps with secret toil + The deep foundations of the watry pile. + In vain the forest lent its stateliest pride, + Rear'd her tall mast, and fram'd her knotty side; + In vain the thunder's martial rage she stood, + With each fierce conflict of the stormy flood; + More sure the reptile's little arts devour, + Than waves, or wars, or Eurus' wintry pow'r, + Ye venerable bow'rs, ye seats sublime, + Clad in the mossy vest of fleeting time; + Ye stately piles of old munificence, + At once the pride of Learning and defence, + Where ancient Piety, a matron hoar, + Still seems to keep the hospitable door; + Ye cloisters pale, that length'ning to the sight, + Still step by step to musings mild invite; + Ye high-archt walks where oft the bard has caught + The glowing sentiment, the lofty thought; + Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays + Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise; + Lo! your lov'd ISIS, from the bord'ring vale, + With all a mother's fondness bids you hail!---- + Hail, OXFORD, hail! of all that's good and great, + Of all that's fair, the guardian and the seat; + Nurse of each brave pursuit, each generous aim, + By truth exalted to the throne of fame! + Like Greece in science and in liberty, + As Athens learn'd, as Lacedæmon free! + Ev'n now, confess'd to my adoring eyes, + In awful ranks thy sacred sons arise; + With ev'ry various flower their temples wreath'd, + That in thy gardens green its fragrance breath'd, + Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds, + Thy crouding bards immortal CHAUCER leads: + His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing choir, + And beams on all around celestial fire: + With graceful step see ADDISON advance, + The sweetest child of Attic Elegance: + To all, but his belov'd embrace deny'd, + See LOCKE leads reason, his majestic bride: + See sacred HAMMOND, as he treads the field, + With godlike arm uprears his heav'nly shield. + All who, beneath the shades of gentle peace, + Best plan'd the labours of domestic ease; + Who taught with truth, or with persuasion mov'd; + Who sooth'd with numbers, or with sense improv'd; + Who told the pow'rs of reason or refin'd, + All, all that strengthen'd or adorn'd the mind; + Each priest of health, who mix'd the balmy bowl, + To rear frail man, and stay the fleeting soul; + All croud around, and echoing to the sky, + Hail, OXFORD, hail! with filial transport cry. + And see yon solemn band! with virtuous aim, + 'Twas theirs in thought the glorious deed to frame: + With pious plans each musing feature glows, + And well weigh'd counsels mark their meaning brows: + "Lo! these the leaders of thy patriot line," + HAMDEN, and HOOKER, HYDE, and SIDNEY shine. + These from thy source the fires of freedom caught: + How well thy sons by their example taught! + While in each breast th' hereditary flame + Still blazes, unextinguish'd and the same! + Nor all the toils of thoughtful peace engage, + 'Tis thine to form the hero as the sage. + I see the sable-suited prince advance + With lillies crown'd, the spoils of bleeding France, + EDWARD----the Muses in yon hallow'd shade + Bound on his tender thigh the martial blade: + Bade him the steel for British freedom draw, + And OXFORD taught the deeds that CRESSY saw. + And see, great father of the laureat band, + The [12]BRITISH KING before me seems to stand. + He by my plenty-crowned scenes beguil'd, + And genial influence of my seasons mild, + Hither of yore (forlorn, forgotten maid) + The Muse in prattling infancy convey'd; + From Gothic rage the helpless virgin bore, + And fix'd her cradle on my friendly shore: + Soon grew the maid beneath his fost'ring hand, + Soon pour'd her blessings o'er th' enlighten'd land. + Tho rude the [13]dome, and humble the retreat, + Where first his pious care ordain'd her seat, + Lo! now on high she dwells in Attic bow'rs, + And proudly lifts to heav'n her hundred tow'rs. + He first fair Learning's and Britannia's cause + Adorn'd with manners, and advanc'd with laws; + He bade relent the Briton's savage heart, + And form'd his soul to social scenes of art, + Wisest and best of kings!----with ravish'd gaze + Elate the long procession he surveys: + Joyful he smiles to find, that not in vain + He plan'd the rudiments of Learning's reign: + Himself he marks in each ingenuous breast, + With all the founder in the race exprest: + With rapture views, fair Freedom still survive + In yon bright domes (ill-fated fugitive) + (Such seen, as when the goddess pour'd the beam + Unsullied on his ancient diadem) + Well-pleas'd that in his own Pierian seat + She plumes her wings, and rests her weary feet; + That here at last she takes her fav'rite stand, + "Here deigns to linger, ere she leave the land." + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[11] RADCLIFFE'S library. + +[12] Alfred. Regis Romani. V. Virg. Æn. 6. + +[13] ----------------------------Ad Capitolia ducit + Aurea nunc, olim sylvestribus horrida dumis. + VIRG. ÆN. + + + + +LOVE ELEGY. + +BY MR. HAMMOND. + + + I. + + Let others boast their heaps of shining gold, + And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd, + Whom neigb'ring foes in constant terror hold, + And trumpets break their slumbers, never found. + + + II. + + While calmly poor, I trifle life away, + Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearful fire, + No wanton hope my quiet shall betray, + But cheaply bless'd, I'll scorn each vain desire. + + + III. + + With timely care I'll sow my little field, + And plant my orchard with it's master's hand, + Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield, + Or range the sheaves along the sunny land. + + + IV. + + If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam, + I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb, + Under my arm I'll bring the wand'rer home, + And not a little chide it's thoughtless dam. + + + V. + + What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain, + And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast? + Or lull'd to slumber by the beating rain, + Secure and happy sink at last to rest. + + + VI. + + Or if the sun in flaming Leo ride, + By shady rivers indolently stray, + And with my DELIA walking side by side, + Hear how they murmur, as they glide away. + + + VII. + + What joy to wind along the cool retreat, + To stop and gaze on DELIA as I go! + To mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet, + And teach my lovely scholar all I know! + + + VIII. + + Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream, + In silent happiness I rest unknown; + Content with what I am, not what I seem, + I live for DELIA, and myself alone. + + + IX. + + Ah foolish man! who thus of her possest, + Could float and wander with ambition's wind, + And if his outward trappings spoke him blest, + Not heed the sickness of his conscious mind. + + + X. + + With her I scorn the idle breath of praise, + Nor trust to happiness that's not our own, + The smile of fortune might suspicion raise, + But here, I know, that I am lov'd alone. + + + XI. + + STANHOPE, in wisdom, as in wit divine, + May rise, and plead Britannia's glorious cause, + With steady rein his eager wit confine, + While manly sense the deep attention draws: + + + XII. + + Let STANHOPE speak his list'ning country's wrong, + My humble voice shall please one partial maid, + For her alone, I pen my tender song, + Securely sitting in his friendly shade. + + + XIII. + + STANHOPE shall come, and grace his rural friend, + DELIA shall wonder at her noble guest, + With blushing awe the riper fruit commend, + And for her husband's Patron cull the best. + + + XIV. + + Her's be the care of all my little train, + While I with tender Indolence am blest, + The favourite subject of her gentle reign, + By love alone distinguish'd from the rest. + + + XV. + + For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plow, + In gloomy forests tend my lonely flock, + For her a goat-herd climb the mountain's brow, + And sleep extended on the naked rock. + + + XVI. + + Ah! what avails to press the stately bed, + And far from her 'midst tasteless grandeur weep, + By marble fountains lay the pensive head, + And, while they murmur, strive in vain to sleep. + + + XVII. + + DELIA alone can please, and never tire, + Exceed the paint of thought in true delight, + With her, enjoyment wakens new desire, + And equal rapture glows thro' every night. + + + XVIII. + + Beauty and worth, alone in her, contend + To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind: + In her, my wife, my mistress, and my friend, + I taste the joys of sense and reason join'd. + + + XIX. + + On her I'll gaze, when others loves are o'er, + And dying, press her with my clay-cold hand---- + Thou weep'st already, as I were no more, + Nor can that gentle breast the thought withstand. + + + XX. + + Oh! when I die, my latest moments spare, + Nor let thy grief with sharper torments kill, + Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair, + Tho' I am dead my soul shall love thee still. + + + XXI. + + Oh quit the room, oh quit the deathful bed, + Or thou wilt die, so tender is thy heart! + O leave me, DELIA! ere thou see me dead, + These weeping friends will do thy mournful part. + + + XXII. + + Let them extended on the decent bier, + Convey the corse in melancholy state, + Thro' all the village spread the tender tear, + While pitying maids our wond'rous loves relate. + + + + +THE + +TEARS + +OF + +SCOTLAND. + +WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXLVI. + + + I. + + Mourn, hapless CALEDONIA, mourn + Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn! + Thy sons, for valour long renown'd, + Lie slaughter'd on their native ground; + Thy hospitable roofs no more, + Invite the stranger to the door; + In smoaky ruins sunk they lie, + The monuments of cruelty. + + + II. + + The wretched owner sees afar + His all become the prey of war; + Bethinks him of his babes and wife, + Then smites his breast, and curses life. + Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks, + Where once they fed their wanton flocks: + Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain; + Thy infants perish on the plain. + + + III. + + What boots it then, in every clime, + Thro' the wide spreading waste of time, + Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, + Still shone with undiminish'd blaze? + Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke, + Thy neck is bended to the yoke. + What foreign arms could never quell, + By civil rage, and rancour fell. + + + IV. + + The rural pipe, and merry lay + No more shall chear the happy day: + No social scenes of gay delight + Beguile the dreary winter night: + No strains, but those of sorrow flow, + And nought be heard but sounds of woe; + While the pale phantoms of the slain + Glide nightly o'er the silent plain. + + + V. + + Oh baneful cause, oh! fatal morn, + Accurs'd to ages yet unborn! + The sons, against their fathers stood, + The parent shed his children's blood. + Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd, + The victor's soul was not appeas'd: + The naked and forlorn must feel + Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel! + + + VI. + + The pious mother doom'd to death, + Forsaken, wanders o'er the heath, + The bleak wind whistles round her head, + Her helpless orphans cry for bread, + Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, + She views the shades of night descend, + And stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, + Weeps o'er her tender babes and dies. + + + VII. + + Whilst the warm blood bedews my veins, + And unimpair'd remembrance reigns; + Resentment of my country's fate, + Within my filial breast shall beat; + And, spite of her insulting foe, + My sympathizing verse shall flow, + "Mourn, hapless CALEDONIA, mourn + "Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn." + + + + +AN ELEGY. + +WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD. + + + The Curfeu tolls, the knell of parting day, + The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, + The plowman homeward plods his weary way, + And leaves the world to darkness, and to me. + Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, + And all the air a solemn stillness holds; + Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, + Or drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. + Save, that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r + The mopeing owl does to the moon complain + Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r, + Molest her ancient solitary reign. + Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, + Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, + Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, + The rude forefather's of the hamlet sleep. + The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, + The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, + The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, + No more shall rouze them from their lowly bed. + For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, + Or busy housewife ply her ev'ning care: + No children run to lisp their sire's return, + Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. + Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, + Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; + How jocund did they drive their team afield! + How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! + Let not ambition mock their useful toil, + Their homely joy, and destiny obscure; + Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, + The short and simple annals of the poor. + The boasts of heraldry, the pomp of power, + And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, + Awaits alike th' inevitable hour, + The paths of glory, lead but to the grave. + Forgive, ye proud, the involuntary fault, + If memory to these no trophies raise, + Where thro' the long-drawn isle and fretted vault, + The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. + Can storied urn, or animated bust + Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? + Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, + Or Flatt'ry sooth the dull cold ear of death? + Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid + Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire, + Hands that the reins of empire might have sway'd, + Or wak'd to extasy the living lyre. + But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page + Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; + Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, + And froze the genial current of the soul. + Full many a gem of purest ray serene, + The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: + Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, + And waste its sweetness on the desart air. + Some village-HAMPDEN that with dauntless breast + The little tyrant of his fields withstood: + Some mute inglorious MILTON here may rest, + Some CROMWELL guiltless of his country's blood. + Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, + The threats of pain and ruin to despise, + To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, + And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes + Their lot forbad: nor circumscrib'd alone + Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd; + Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, + And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, + The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, + To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, + Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride + With incense, kindled at the muse's flame. + Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, + Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; + Along the cool sequester'd vale of life, + They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. + Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect + Some frail memorial still erected nigh, + With uncouth rhimes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, + Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. + Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, + The place of fame and elegy supply, + And many a holy text around she strews, + That teach the rustic moralist to dye. + For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, + This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, + Left the warm precincts of the chearful day, + Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind? + On some fond breast the parting soul relies, + Some pious drops the closing eye requires; + E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, + Still in their ashes live their wonted fires. + For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd dead + Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; + If chance, by lonely contemplation led, + Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate, + Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, + 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn + 'Brushing with hasty dews away, + 'To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. + 'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech + 'That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, + 'His listless length at noontide wou'd he stretch, + 'And pore upon the brook that babbles by. + 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, + 'Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove, + 'Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, + 'Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. + 'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, + 'Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; + 'Another came; nor yet beside the rill, + 'Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. + 'The next with dirges due in sad array, + 'Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne. + 'Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, + 'Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn. + 'There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, + 'By hands unseen, are show'rs of violets found; + 'The red-breast loves to build and warble there, + 'And little footsteps lightly print the ground. + + +THE EPITAPH. + + "Here rests his head upon the lap of earth + "A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: + "Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, + "And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. + "Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, + "Heav'n did a recompence as largely send: + "He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear; + "He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. + "No farther seek his merits to disclose, + "Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, + "(There they alike in trembling hope repose) + "The bosom of his father and his God. + + + + +ON THE DEATH OF + +FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES. + +WRITTEN AT PARIS, BY DAVID LORD VISCOUNT + +STORMONT, OF CH. CH. OXON. + + + Little I whilom deem'd my artless zeal + Should woo the British Muse in foreign land + To strains of bitter argument, and teach + The mimic Nymph, that haunts the winding verge + And oozy current of Parisian Seine, + To syllable new sounds in accents strange. + But sad occasion calls: who now forbears + The last kind office? who but consecrates + His off'ring at the shrine of fair Renown + To gracious FREDERIC rais'd; tho' but compos'd + Of the waste flourets, whose neglected hues + Chequer the lonely hedge, or mountain slope? + Where are those hopes, where fled th' illusive scenes + That forgeful fancy plan'd, what time the bark + Stem'd the salt wave from Albion's chalky bourn? + Then filial Piety and parting Love + Pour'd the fond pray'r; "Farewell, ye less'ning cliffs, + "Fairer to me, than ought in fabled song + "Or mystic record told of shores Atlantic! + "Favour'd of heav'n, farewell! imperial isle, + "Native to noblest wits, and best approv'd + "In manly science, and advent'rous deed! + "Celestial Freedom, by rude hand estrang'd + "From regions once frequented, with Thee takes + "Her stedfast station, fast beside the throne + "Of scepter'd Rule, and there her state maintains + "In social concord, and harmonious love. + "These blessings still be thine, nor meddling fiend + "Stir in your busy streets foul Faction's roar; + "Still thrive your growing works, and gales propitious + "Visit your sons who ride the watry waste; + "And still be heard from forth your gladsome bow'rs + "Shrill tabor-pipes, and ev'ry peaceful sound. + "Nor vain the wish, while GEORGE the golden scale + "With steady prudence holds, and temp'rate sway. + "And when his course of earthly honours run, + "With lenient hand shall FREDERIC sooth your care, + "Rich in each princely quality, mature + "In years, and happiest in nuptial choice. + "Thence too arise new hopes, a playful troop + "Circles his hearth, sweet pledges of that bed, + "Which Faith, and Joy, and thousand Virtues guard. + "His be the care t' inform their ductile minds + "With worthiest thoughts, and point the ways of honour. + "How often shall he hear with fresh delight + "Their earnest tales, or watch their rising passions + "With timorous attention; then shall tell + "Of justice, fortitude and public weal, + "And oft the while each rigid precept smooth + "With winning tokens of parental love!" + Thus my o'erweening heart the secret stores + Of Britain's hope explor'd, while my strain'd sight + Pursued her fading hills, till wrapt in mist + They gently sunk beneath the swelling tide. + Nor slept those thoughts, whene'er in other climes + I mark'd the cruel waste of foul oppression, + Saw noblest spirits, and goodliest faculties, + To vassalage and loathsome service bound. + Then conscious preference rose; then northward turn'd + My eye, to gratulate my natal soil. + How have I chid with froward eagerness + Each veering blast, that from my hand witheld + The well known characters of some lov'd friend, + Tho' distant, not unmindful? Still I learn'd + Delighted, what each patriot plan devis'd + Of arts, or glory, or diffusive commerce. + Nor wanted its endearment every tale + Of lightest import. But oh! heavy change, + What notices come now? Distracted scenes + Of helpless sorrow, solemn sad accounts; + How fair AUGUSTA watch'd the weary night + Tending the bed of anguish; how great GEORGE + Wept with his infant progeny around; + How heav'd the orphan's and the widow's sigh, + That follow'd FREDERIC to the silent tomb. + For well was FREDERIC lov'd; and well deserv'd: + His voice was ever sweet, and on his steps + Attended ever the alluring grace + Of gentle lowliness and social zeal. + Him shall remember oft the labour'd hind, + Relating to his mates each casual act + Of courteous bounty. Him th' artificer, + Plying the varied woof in sullen sadness, + Tho' wont to carrol many a ditty sweet. + Soon too the mariner, who many moons + Has counted, beating still the foamy surge, + And treads at last the wish'd-for beach, shall stand + Appall'd at the sad tale, and soon shall steal + Down his rough cheek th' involuntary tear. + Be this our solace yet, all is not dead; + The bright memorial lives: for his example + Shall Hymen trim his torch, domestic praise + Be countenanc'd, and virtue fairer shew. + In age succeeding, when another GEORGE, + To ratify some weighty ordinance + Of Britain's peers conven'd, shall pass beside + Those hallowed spires, whose gloomy vaults enclose, + Shrouded in sleep, pale rows of scepter'd kings, + Oft to his sense the sweet paternal voice + And long-remember'd features shall return; + Then shall his generous breast be new inflam'd + To acts of highest worth, and highest fame. + These plaintive strains from ALBION far away, + I lonely meditate at even-tide; + Nor skill'd nor studious of the raptur'd lay; + But still remembring oft the magic sounds, + Well-measur'd to the chime of Dorian lute, + Or past'ral stop, which erst I lov'd to hear + On ISIS' broider'd mead, where dips by fits + The stooping osier in her hasty stream. + Hail WOLSEY'S spacious dome! hail, ever fam'd + For faithful nurture, and truth's sacred lore, + Much honour'd parent! You my duteous zeal + Accept, if haply in thy laureat wreath + You deign to interweave this humble song. + + + + +ON THE SAME. + +BY MR. JAMES CLITHEROW OF ALL SOULS COLL. + + + I. + + 'Twas on the evening of that gloomy day, + When FREDERIC, ever lov'd, and ever mourn'd, + (Such heav'n's high will, and who shall disobey?) + To earth's cold womb in holy pomp return'd: + + + II. + + With sullen sounds, the death-denouncing bell + Proclaim'd aloud the dismal tale of woe, + The pealing organ join'd the solemn knell, + In mournful notes, majestically slow. + + + III. + + The full-voic'd choir, in stoles of purest white, + With frequent pause, the soul-felt anthem raise; + While o'er the walls in darkest sable dight, + A thousand tapers pour'd their holy blaze. + + + IV. + + In high devotion wrapt, the mitred sage, + With energy sublime, the rites began; + While tears from every sex, and every age, + Bewail'd the prince, the father, and the man. + + + V. + + "Who, when our sov'reign liege to fate shall yield, + "Shall prop, like him, Britannia's falling state? + "Who now the vengeful sword of justice wield, + "Or ope, like him, sweet Mercy's golden gate? + + + VI. + + "Who shall to Arts their pristine honours bring, + "Rear from the dust fair Learning's laurell'd head, + "Or bid rich commerce plume her daring wing? + "Arts, Learning, Commerce are in FREDERIC dead. + + + VII. + + "Who now shall tend, with fond, paternal care, + "The future guardians of our faith and laws? + "Who teach their breasts with patriot worth to dare, + "And die with ardour, in Britannia's cause? + + + VIII. + + "And who, ah! who, with soft endearing lore, + "Shall sooth, like him, the royal mourner's breast? + "Her lord, her life, her FREDERIC is no more."-- + Deep groans and bitter wailings speak the rest. + + + IX. + + Then, when at length the awful scene was clos'd, + And dust to dust in holy hope consign'd; + All to their silent homes their steps dispos'd, + To feed on solitary woe the mind; + + + X. + + All but Lorenzo;--he with grief dismay'd; + Nor heeding ought but FREDERIC'S hapless fate, + Musing along the cloyster'd temple stray'd, + Till lonely midnight clos'd th' impervious gate. + + + XI. + + But when each lamp by slow degrees expir'd, + And total night assumes her silent reign, + Sudden he starts, with wild amazement fir'd, + And big with horror traverses the fane. + + + XII. + + The vaulted mansions of th' illustrious dead + Inspire his shudd'ring soul with ghastly fears, + Dire shapes, and beck'ning shades around him tread, + And hollow voices murmur in his ears. + + + XIII. + + There, as around the monumental maze + Darkling he wanders, a resplendent gleam + Shoots o'er th' illumin'd isle a distant blaze, + Pale as the glow-worm's fire, or Cynthia's beam. + + + XIV. + + With glory clad, th' imperial shrines among, + Four royal shapes on iv'ry thrones were plac'd, + High o'er their heads four airy diadems hung, + Which never yet their maiden brows had grac'd. + + + XV. + + The first was he, whom CRESSY'S glorious plain + Has fam'd for martial deeds and bold emprize; + Nor less his praise in Virtue's milder strain, + Just, humble, learned, merciful and wise. + + + XVI. + + Next ARTHUR sat, at whose auspicious birth + In one sweet flower the blended roses join'd; + And HENRY next, fair plant of Scottish earth, + The hope, the joy of ALBION and mankind. + + + XVII. + + Yet green in death, the last majestic shade + Wore gracious FREDERIC'S mild, endearing look; + To him the rest obeysance courteous paid, + And EDWARD thus the princely form bespoke: + + + XVIII. + + "All hail! illustrious partner of our fate, + "For whom, as once for us, Britannia bleeds; + "Hail! to the mansions of the good and great, + "Where crowns immortal wait on virtuous deeds. + + + XIX. + + "The same our fortune, as our worth the same, + "(To worth like ours short date doth heav'n assign) + "As one our fortune, one shall be our fame, + "And long record our deathless names shall join. + + + XX. + + "But oh! I tremble for Britannia's state, + "May guardian pow'rs avert the dire presage! + "For well she knows, at our untimely fate + "How heav'n's dread vengeance smote each sinful age. + + + XXI. + + "The regal staff aspiring BOLINGBROKE + "Snatch'd with rude grasp from RICHARD'S princely hand; + "Loos'd from hell's confines, civil Discord shook + "The dubious throne, and tore the bleeding land. + + + XXIII. + + "When ARTHUR died, imperious HENRY'S thirst + "Of subject's blood, nor heeded sex nor age; + "His wives a sacrifice to vagrant lust, + "His nobles victims to tyrannic rage. + + + XXIV. + + "When pious CHARLES in right fraternal reign'd, + "Rebellion proudly stalk'd from shore to shore, + "Her laws, her rights, her holy faith profan'd, + "And dy'd the guilty land with royal gore. + + + XXV. + + "Yet ah! may pity move relenting heav'n! + "Enough she groans beneath her present woe; + "Enough to vengeance is already given; + "Her FREDERIC'S dead;--there needs no other blow." + + + XXVI. + + Scarce had he spoken, when the bird of day + 'Gan morn's approach with clarion shrill declare, + At once th' unbodied phantoms fade away, + The fond illusion all dissolves in air. + + + + +ODE + +ON THE + +APPROACH OF SUMMER. + +BY A GENTLEMAN FORMERLY OF THE UNIVERSITY + +OF ABERDEEN. + + _Te dea, te fugiunt venti, te nubila coeli, + Adventumque tuum; tibi suaveis dædala tellus + Submittit flores; tibi rident æquora ponti; + Placatumque nitet diffuso lumine coelum._ + LUCRETIUS. + + + Hence, iron-scepter'd WINTER, haste + To bleak Siberian waste! + Haste to thy polar solitude; + Mid cataracts of ice, + Whose torrents dumb are stretch'd in fragments rude, + From many an airy precipice, + Where, ever beat by sleety show'rs, + Thy gloomy Gothic castle tow'rs; + Amid whose howling iles and halls, + Where no gay sunbeam paints the walls, + On ebon throne thou lov'st to shroud, + Thy brows in many a murky cloud. + E'en now, before the vernal heat, + Sullen I see thy train retreat: + Thy ruthless host stern EURUS guides, + That on a ravenous tiger rides, + Dim-figur'd on whose robe are shewn + Shipwrecks, and villages o'erthrown: + Grim AUSTER, dropping all with dew, + In mantle clad of watchet hue: + And COLD, like Zemblan savage seen, + Still threatening with his arrows keen; + And next, in furry coat embost + With icicles, his brother FROST. + WINTER farewell! thy forests hoar, + Thy frozen floods delight no more; + Farewell the fields, so bare and wild! + But come thou rose-cheek'd cherub mild, + Sweetest SUMMER! haste thee here, + Once more to crown the gladden'd year. + Thee APRIL blythe, as long of yore, + Bermudas' lawns he frolick'd o'er, + With muskie nectar-trickling wing, + (In the new world's first dawning spring,) + To gather balm of choicest dews, + And patterns fair of various hues, + With which to paint in changeful dye, + The youthful earth's embroidery; + To cull the essence of rich smells + In which to dip his new-born bells; + Thee, as he skim'd with pinions fleet, + He found an infant, smiling sweet; + Where a tall citron's shade imbrown'd + The soft lap of the fragrant ground. + There on an amaranthine bed, + Thee with rare nectarine fruits he fed; + Till soon beneath his forming care, + You bloom'd a goddess debonnair; + And then he gave the blessed isle + Aye to be sway'd beneath thy smile: + There plac'd thy green and grassy shrine, + With myrtle bower'd and jessamine: + And to thy care the task assign'd + With quickening hand, and nurture kind, + His roseate infant-births to rear, + Till Autumn's mellowing reign appear. + Haste thee nymph! and hand in hand, + With thee lead a buxom band; + Bring fantastic-footed Joy, + With Sport that yellow-tressed boy. + Leisure, that through the balmy sky, + Chases a crimson butterfly. + Bring Health that loves in early dawn + To meet the milk-maid on the lawn; + Bring Pleasure, rural nymph, and Peace, + Meek, cottage-loving shepherdess! + And that sweet stripling, Zephyr, bring, + Light, and for ever on the wing. + Bring the dear Muse, that loves to lean + On river-margins, mossy green. + But who is she, that bears thy train, + Pacing light the velvet plain? + The pale pink binds her auburn hair, + Her tresses flow with pastoral air; + 'Tis May the Grace----confest she stands + By branch of hawthorn in her hands: + Lo! near her trip the lightsome Dews, + Their wings all ting'd in iris-hues; + With whom the pow'rs of Flora play, + And paint with pansies all the way. + Oft when thy season, sweetest Queen, + Has drest the groves in liv'ry green; + When in each fair and fertile field + Beauty begins her bow'r to build; + While Evening, veil'd in shadows brown, + Puts her matron-mantle on, + And mists in spreading steams convey + More fresh the fumes of new-shorn hay; + Then, Goddess, guide my pilgrim feet + Contemplation hoar to meet, + As slow he winds in museful mood, + Near the rush'd marge of CHERWELL'S flood; + Or o'er old AVON'S magic edge, + Whence Shakespeare cull'd the spiky sedge, + All playful yet, in years unripe, + To frame a shrill and simple pipe. + There thro' the dusk but dimly seen, + Sweet ev'ning objects intervene: + His wattled cotes the shepherd plants, + Beneath her elm the milk-maid chants. + The woodman, speeding home, awhile + Rests him at a shady stile. + Nor wants there fragrance to dispense + Refreshment o'er my soothed sense; + Nor tangled woodbines balmy bloom, + Nor grass besprent, to breathe perfume: + Nor lurking wild-thyme's spicy sweet + To bathe in dew my roving feet: + Nor wants there note of Philomel, + Nor sound of distant-tinkling bell: + Nor lowings faint of herds remote, + Nor mastiff's bark from bosom'd cott: + Rustle the breezes lightly borne + Of deep-embattel'd ears of corn: + Round ancient elm, with humming noise, + Full loud the chaffer-swarms rejoice. + Meantime, a thousand dies invest + The ruby chambers of the West! + That all aslant the village tow'r + A mild reflected radiance pour, + While, with the level-streaming rays + Far seen its arched windows blaze: + And the tall grove's green top is dight + In russet tints, and gleams of light; + So that the gay scene by degrees + Bathes my blythe heart in extasies; + And Fancy to my ravish'd sight + Pourtrays her kindred visions bright. + At length the parting-light subdues + My soften'd soul to calmer views, + And fainter shapes of pensive joy, + As twilight dawns, my mind employ, + Till from the path I fondly stray + In musings lapt, nor heed the way; + Wandering thro' the landscape still, + Till Melancholy has her fill; + And on each moss-wove border damp, + The glow-worm hangs his fairy lamp. + But when the Sun, at noon-tide hour, + Sits throned in his highest tow'r; + Me, heart-rejoicing Goddess, lead + To the tann'd hay-cock in the mead: + To mix in rural mood among + The nymphs and swains, a busy throng; + Or, as the tepid odours breathe, + The russet piles to lean beneath: + There as my listless limbs are thrown + On couch more soft than palace down; + I listen to the busy sound + Of mirth and toil that hums around; + And see the team shrill-tinkling pass, + Alternate o'er the furrow'd grass. + But ever, after summer show'r, + When the bright sun's returning pow'r, + With laughing beam has chas'd the storm, + And chear'd reviving nature's form; + By sweet-brier hedges, bathed in dew, + Let me my wholsome path pursue; + There issuing forth the frequent snail, + Wears the dank way with slimy trail, + While as I walk, from pearled bush; + The sunny-sparkling drop I brush; + And all the landscape fair I view + Clad in robe of fresher hue: + And so loud the blackbird singe, + That far and near the valley rings. + From shelter deep of shaggy rock + The shepherd drives his joyful flock; + From bowering beech the mower blythe + With new-born vigour grasps the scythe; + While o'er the smooth unbounded meads + His last faint gleam the rainbow spreads. + But ever against restless heat, + Bear me to the rock-arch'd seat, + O'er whose dim mouth an ivy'd oak + Hangs nodding from the low-brow'd rock; + Haunted by that chaste nymph alone, + Whose waters cleave the smoothed stone, + Which, as they gush upon the ground, + Still scatter misty dews around: + A rustic, wild, grotesque alcove, + Its side with mantling woodbines wove; + Cool as the cave where Clio dwells, + Whence Helicon's fresh fountain wells; + Or noon-tide grott where Sylvan sleeps + In hoar Lycæum's piny steeps. + Me, Goddess, in such cavern lay, + While all without is scorch'd in day; + Sore sighs the weary swain, beneath + His with'ring hawthorn on the heath; + The drooping hedger wishes eve, + In vain, of labour short reprieve! + Meantime, on Afric's glowing sands + Smote with keen heat, the trav'ler stands: + Low sinks his heart, while round his eye + Measures the scenes that boundless lie, + Ne'er yet by foot of mortal worn, + Where Thirst, wan pilgrim, walks forlorn. + How does he with some cooling wave + To slake his lips, or limbs to lave! + And thinks, in every whisper low, + He hears a bursting fountain flow. + Or bear me to yon antique wood, + Dim temple of sage Solitude! + But still in fancy's mirror seen + Some more romantic scene would please, + There within a nook most dark, + Where none my musing mood may mark; + Let me in many a whisper'd rite + The Genius old of Greece invite, + With that fair wreath my brows to bind, + Which for his chosen imps he twin'd, + Well nurtur'd in Pierian lore, + On clear Ilissus' laureat shore.---- + Till high on waving nest reclin'd, + The raven wakes my tranced mind! + Or to the forest-fringed vale + Where widow'd turtles love to wail, + Where cowslips clad in mantle meek, + Nod their tall heads to breezes weak: + In the midst, with sedges grey + Crown'd, a scant riv'let winds its way, + And trembling thro' the weedy wreaths, + Around an oozy freshness breathes. + O'er the solitary green, + Nor cott, nor loitering hind is seen: + Nor aught alarms the mute repose, + Save that by fits an heifer lows: + A scene might tempt some peaceful sage + To rear him a lone hermitage; + Fit place his pensive eld might chuse + On virtue's holy lore to muse. + Yet still the sultry noon t' appease + Some more romantic scene might please; + Or fairy bank, or magic lawn, + By Spenser's lavish pencil drawn. + Or bow'r in Vallambrosa's shade, + By legendary pens pourtray'd. + Haste let me shroud from painful light, + On that hoar hill's aereal height, + In solemn state, where waving wide, + Thick pines with darkening umbrage hide + The rugged vaults, and riven tow'rs + Of that proud castle's painted bow'rs, + Whence HARDYKNUTE, a baron bold, + In Scotland's martial days of old, + Descended from the stately feast, + Begirt with many a warrior-guest, + To quell the pride of Norway's king, + With quiv'ring lance and twanging string. + As thro' the caverns dim I wind, + Might I that holy legend find, + By fairies spelt in mystic rhimes, + To teach enquiring later times, + What open force, or secret guile, + Dash'd into dust the solemn pile. + But when mild Morn in saffron stole + First issues from her eastern goal; + Let not my due feet fail to climb + Some breezy summit's brow sublime, + Whence nature's universal face, + Illumin'd smiles with new-born grace; + The misty streams that wind below, + With silver-sparkling lustre glow; + The groves, and castled cliffs appear + Invested all in radiance clear; + O! every village-charm beneath! + The smoke that mounts in azure wreath! + O beauteous, rural interchange! + The simple spire, and elmy grange! + CONTENT, indulging blissful hours, + Whistles o'er the fragrant flow'rs, + And cattle rouz'd to pasture new, + Shake jocund from their sides the dew. + 'Tis thou, alone, O SUMMER mild, + Canst bid me carol wood-notes wild: + Whene'er I view thy genial scenes: + Thy waving woods, embroider'd greens; + What fires within my bosom wake, + How glows my mind the reed to take! + What charms like thine the muse can call, + With whom 'tis youth and laughter all; + With whom each field's a paradise, + And all the globe a Bow'r of bliss! + With thee conversing, all the day, + I meditate my lightsome lay. + These pedant cloisters let me leave, + To breathe my votive song at eve, + In valleys where mild whispers use; + Of shade and stream, to court the muse; + While wand'ring o'er the brook's dim verge, + I hear the stock-dove's dying dirge. + But when life's busier scene is o'er, + And Age shall give the tresses hoar, + I'd fly soft Luxury's marble dome, + And make an humble thatch my home, + Which sloaping hills around enclose, + Where many a beech and brown oak grows; + Beneath whose dark and branching bow'rs + It's tides a far-fam'd river pours: + By nature's beauties taught to please, + Sweet Tusculane of rural ease! + Still grot of Peace! in lowly shed + Who loves to rest her gentle head. + For not the scenes of Attic art + Can comfort care, or sooth the heart: + Nor burning cheek, nor wakeful eye, + For gold, and Tyrian purple fly. + Thither, kind heav'n, in pity lent, + Send me a little, and content; + The faithful friend, and chearful night, + The social scene of dear delight: + The conscience pure, the temper gay, + The musing eve, and idle day. + Give me beneath cool shades to sit, + Rapt with the charms of classic wit: + To catch the bold heroic flame, + That built immortal Græcia's fame. + Nor let me fail, meantime, to raise + The solemn song to Britain's praise: + To spurn the shepherd's simple reeds + And paint heroic ancient deeds: + To chaunt fam'd ARTHUR'S magic tale, + And EDWARD, stern in fable mail. + Or wand'ring BRUTUS' lawless doom, + Or brave BONDUCA, scourge of Rome; + + O ever to sweet Poesie, + Let me live true votary! + She shall lead me by the hand, + Queen of sweet smiles, and solace bland! + She from her precious stores shall shed + Ambrosial flow'rets o'er my head: + She, from my tender youthful cheek, + Can wipe, with lenient finger meek, + The secret and unpitied tear, + Which still I drop in darkness drear. + She shall be my blooming bride, + With her, as years successive glide, + I'll hold divinest dalliance, + For ever held in holy trance. + + + + +A + +PASTORAL + +IN THE + +MANNER OF SPENSER. + +FROM THEOCRITUS. IDYLL XX. + +BY THE SAME. + + + I. + + As late I strove LUCILLA'S lip to kiss, + She with discurtesee reprov'd my will; + Dost thou, she said, affect so pleasaunt bliss, + A simple shepherd, and a losell vile? + Not Fancy's hand should join my courtly lip + To thine, as I myself were fast asleep. + + + II. + + As thus she spake, full proud and boasting lasse, + And as a peacocke pearke, in dalliance, + She bragly turned her ungentle face, + And all disdaining ey'd my shape askaunce: + But I did blush, with grief and shame yblent, + Like morning-rose with hoary dewe besprent. + + + III. + + Tell me, my fellows all, am I not fair? + Has fell enchantress blasted all her charms? + Whilom mine head was sleek with tressed hayre, + My laughing eyne did shoot out love's alarms: + E'en KATE did deemen me the fairest swain, + When erst I won this girdle on the plain. + + + IV. + + My lip with vermil was embellished, + My bagpipes notes loud and delicious were, + The milk-white lilly, and the rose so red, + Did on my face depeinten lively cheere, + My voice as soote as mounting larke did shrill, + My look was blythe as MARGARET'S at the mill. + + + V. + + But she forsooth, more fair than MADGE or KATE, + A dainty maid, did deign not shepherd's love; + Nor wist what THENOT told us swains of late; + That VENUS sought a shepherd in a grove; + Nor that a heav'nly god who PHOEBUS hight, + To tend his flock with shepherds did delight.---- + + + VI. + + Ah! 'tis that VENUS with accurst despight, + That all my dolour, and my shame has made! + Nor does remembrance of her own delight, + For me one drop of pity sweet persuade? + Aye hence the glowing rapture may she miss, + Like me be scorn'd, nor ever taste a kiss. + + + + +INSCRIBED + +ON A BEAUTIFUL + +GROTTO NEAR THE WATER. + + + I. + + The Graces sought in yonder stream, + To cool the fervid day, + When love's malicious godhead came, + And stole their robes away. + + + II. + + Proud of the theft, the little god + Their robes bade DELIA wear; + While they, asham'd to stir abroad, + Remain all naked here. + + + + +LOVE ELEGY. + +BY MR. SMOLLET. + + + I. + + Where now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy! + MONIMIA, give my soul her wonted rest;-- + Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye, + Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast. + + + II. + + Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call, + With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour; + Lead Beauty thro' the mazes of the ball, + Or press her wanton in love's roseate bow'r. + + + III. + + For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead, + Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around; + Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade, + To hear the music of the grove resound. + + + IV. + + I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall, + Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue, + Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall, + And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew: + + + V. + + There leagu'd with hopeless anguish and despair, + Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine; + Then, with a long farewell to love and care, + To kindred dust my weary limbs consign. + + + VI. + + Wilt thou, MONIMIA, shed a gracious tear + On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest? + Wilt thou strew flow'rs, applaud my love sincere, + And bid the turf lie light upon my breast! + + + + +A + +PANEGYRIC + +ON + +OXFORD ALE. + + +BY A GENTLEMAN OF TRINITY COLL. + + ------------_Mea nec Falernæ + Temperant vites, neque Formiani + Pocula colles._ HORAT. + + + Balm of my cares, sweet solace of my toils, + Hail JUICE benignant! O'er the costly cups + Of riot-stirring wine, unwholsome draught, + Let Pride's loose sons prolong the wasteful night; + My sober ev'ning let the tankard bless, + With toast embrown'd, and fragrant nutmeg fraught, + While the rich draught with oft-repeated whiffs + Tobacco mild improves. Divine repast! + Where no crude surfeit, or intemperate joys + Of lawless Bacchus reign; but o'er my soul + A Calm Lethean creeps; in drowsy trance + Each thought subsides, and sweet oblivion wraps + My peaceful brain, as if the leaden rod + Of magic Morpheus o'er mine eyes had shed + Its opiate influence. What tho' sore ills + Oppress, dire want of chill-dispelling coals + Or chearful candle, (save the make-weight's gleam + Haply remaining) heart-rejoicing ALE + Chears the sad scene, and every want supplies. + Meantime, not mindless of the daily task + Of Tutor sage, upon the learned leaves + Of deep SMIGLECIUS much I meditate; + While ALE inspires, and lends its kindred aid, + The thought-perplexing labour to pursue, + Sweet Helicon of Logic! But if friends + Congenial call me from the toilsome page, + To pot-house I repair, the sacred haunt, + Where ALE, thy votaries in full resort, + Hold rites nocturnal. In capacious chair + Of monumental oak and antique mould, + That long has stood the rage of conquering years + Inviolate, (nor in more ample chair + Smoaks rosy Justice, when th' important cause, + Whether of hen-roost, or of mirthful rape, + In all the majesty of paunch he tries) + Studious of ease, and provident, I place + My gladsome limbs; while in repeated round + Returns replenish'd, the successive cup, + And the brisk fire conspires to genial joy: + While haply, to relieve the ling'ring hours + In innocent delight, amusive Putt + On smooth joint-stool in emblematic play + The vain vicissitudes of fortune shews. + Nor reck'ning, name tremendous, me disturbs, + Nor, call'd for, chills my breast with sudden fear; + While on the wonted door, expressive mark, + The frequent penny stands describ'd to view, + In snowy characters and graceful row.---- + Hail, TICKING! surest guardian of distress! + Beneath thy shelter pennyless I quaff + The chearful cup, nor hear with hopeless heart + New oysters cry'd:--tho' much the poet's friend, + Ne'er yet attempted in poetic strain, + Accept this tribute of poetic praise!---- + Nor Proctor thrice with vocal heel alarms + Our joys secure, nor deigns the lowly roof + Of pot-house snug to visit: wiser he + The splendid tavern haunts, or coffee-house + Of JAMES or JUGGINS, where the grateful breath + Of loath'd tobacco ne'er diffus'd its balm; + But the lewd spendthrift, falsely deem'd polite, + While steams around the fragrant Indian bowl, + Oft damns the vulgar sons of humbler ALE: + In vain----the Proctor's voice arrests their joys; + Just fate of wanton pride and loose excess! + Nor less by day delightful is thy draught, + All-pow'rful ALE! whose sorrow-soothing sweets + Oft I repeat in vacant afternoon, + When tatter'd stockings ask my mending hand + Not unexperienc'd; while the tedious toil + Slides unregarded. Let the tender swain + Each morn regale on nerve-relaxing tea, + Companion meet of languor-loving nymph: + Be mine each morn with eager appetite + And hunger undissembled, to repair + To friendly buttery; there on smoaking crust + And foaming ALE to banquet unrestrain'd, + Material breakfast! Thus in ancient days + Our ancestors robust with liberal cups + Usher'd the morn, unlike the squeamish sons + Of modern times: Nor ever had the might + Of Britons brave decay'd, had thus they fed + With British ALE improving British worth. + With ALE irriguous, undismay'd I hear + The frequent dun ascend my lofty dome + Importunate: whether the plaintive voice + Of laundress shrill awake my startled ear; + Or barber spruce with supple look intrude; + Or taylor with obsequious bow advance; + Or groom invade me with defying front + And stern demeanour, whose emaciate steeds + (Whene'er or Phoebus shone with kindlier beams, + Or luckier chance the borrow'd boots supply'd) + Had panted oft beneath my goring steal. + In vain they plead or threat: All-powerful ALE + Excuses new supplies, and each descends + With joyless pace, and debt-despairing looks: + E'en SPACEY with indignant brow retires, + Fiercest of duns! and conquer'd quits the field. + Why did the gods such various blessings pour + On hapless mortals, from their grateful hands + So soon the short-liv'd bounty to recall?---- + Thus, while improvident of future ill, + I quaff the luscious tankard unrestrain'd, + And thoughtless riot in unlicens'd bliss; + Sudden (dire fate of all things excellent!) + Th' unpitying Bursar's cross-affixing hand + Blasts all my joys, and stops my glad career. + Nor now the friendly pot-house longer yields + A sure retreat, when night o'ershades the skies; + Nor SHEPPARD barbarous matron, longer gives + The wonted trust, and WINTER ticks no more. + Thus ADAM, exil'd from the beauteous scenes + Of Eden griev'd, no more in fragrant bow'r + On fruits divine to feast, fresh shade or vale, + No more to visit, or vine-mantled grot; + But, all forlorn, the dreary wilderness, + And unrejoicing solitudes to trace: + Thus too the matchless bard, whole lay resounds + The SPLENDID SHILLING'S praise, in nightly gloom + Of lonesome garret pin'd for chearful ALE; + Whose steps in verse Miltonic I pursue, + Mean follower, like him with honest love + Of ALE divine inspir'd, and love of song. + But long may bounteous heav'n with watchful care + Avert his hapless lot! Enough for me + That burning with congenial flame I dar'd + His guiding steps at distance to pursue, + And sing his favorite theme in kindred strains. + + + + +THE + +PROGRESS OF DISCONTENT. + +BY THE SAME. + + + When now, mature in classic knowledge, + The joyful youth is sent to college, + His father comes, an humble suitor, + With bows and speeches to his tutor, + "Sir, give me leave to recommend him, + "I'm sure you cannot but befriend him; + "I'll warrant that his good behav'our + "Shall justify your future favour; + "And for his parts, to tell the truth, + "My son's a very forward youth; + "He's young indeed, but has a spirit, + "And wants but means, to shew his merit; + "Has _Horace_ all by heart,--you'd wonder, + "And mouths out _Homer_'s greek like thunder. + "If you'd but venture to admit him, + "A scholarship would nicely fit him; + "That he succeeds 'tis ten to one, + "Your vote and interest, Sir,--'tis done." + Our candidate at length gets in, + A hopeful scholar of Coll. Trin. + A scholarship not half maintains, + And college-rules are heavy chains; + So scorning the late wish'd-for prize, + For a fat fellowship he sighs. + When, nine full tedious winters past, + His utmost wish is crown'd at last; + That utmost wish no sooner got, + Again he quarrels with his lot.-- + "These fellowships are pretty things, + "We live indeed like petty kings; + "But who can bear to spend his whole age + "Amid the dullness of a college; + "Debarr'd the common joys of life, + "And what is worse than all--a wife! + "Would some snug benefice but fall, + "Ye feasts, and gaudies, farewell all! + "To offices I'd bid adieu + "Of Dean, Vice-Præs,--nay Bursar too; + "Come tithes, come glebe, come fields so pleasant, + "Come sports, come partridge, hare and pheasant." + Well--after waiting many a year, + A living falls,--two hundred clear. + With breast elite beyond expression, + He hurries down to take possession; + With rapture views the sweet retreat,-- + "What a convenient house! how neat! + "The garden how compleatly plann'd! + "And is all this at my command! + "For fuel here's good store of wood,-- + "Pray god, the cellars be but good! + Continuing this fantastic farce on, + He now commences country parson; + To make his character entire, + He weds a----cousin of the 'squire; + Not over-weighty in the purse; + But many doctors have done worse. + Content at first,--he taps his barrel, + Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel; + Finds his church-wardens have discerning + Both in good liquor and good learning; + With tythes his barns replete he sees, + And chuckles o'er his surplice-fees; + Studies to find out latent dues, + Smokes with the 'squire,--and clips his yews; + Of Oxford pranks, facetious tells, + And, but on sundays, hears no bells. + But ah! too soon his thoughtless breast + By cares domestic is opprest; + Each day some scene of woe commences + By new and unforeseen expences; + And soon the butcher's bill, and brewing, + Threaten inevitable ruin; + For children more expences yet, + And Dickey now for school is fit. + "Why did I sell my college life + (He cries) "for benefice and wife! + "Oh could the days once more but come, + "When calm I smoak'd in common room, + "And din'd with breast untroubled, under + "The picture of our pious founder; + "When, for amusement, my tyrannic + "Sway could put freshmen in a pannic; + "When impositions were supplied + "To light my pipe--or sooth my pride! + "No cares of family oppress'd me, + "Nor wife by day--nor night distress'd me. + "Each day receiv'd successive pleasure, + "Or spent in reading, or in leisure; + "And every night I went to bed + "Without a christ'ning in my head." + + O trifling head, and fickle heart!-- + Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art! + A dupe to follies yet untry'd, + And sick of pleasure's scarce enjoy'd; + Each prize obtain'd, thy rapture ceases, + And in the search alone it pleases. + + + + +ODE[14] + +TO + +ARTHUR ONSLOW, ESQ. + + + I. + + This goodly frame what virtue so approves, + And testifies the pure etherial spirit + As mild Benevolence? + She with her sister Mercy still awaits + Beside th' eternal throne of Jove, + And measures forth with unwithdrawing hand + The blessings of the various year, + Sunshine or show'r, and chides the madding tempest. + + + II. + + With her the heaven-bred nymph meek Charity, + Shall fashion ONSLOW forth in fairest portrait; + And with recording care + Weave the fresh wreath that flow'ring virtue claims. + But oh, what muse shall join the band? + He long has sojourn'd in the sacred haunts, + And knows each whisp'ring grot and glade + Trod by Apollo, and the light-foot Graces. + + + III. + + How then shall awkward gratitude + And the presumption of untutor'd duty + Attune my numbers all too rude? + Little he recks the meed of such a song; + Yet will I stretch aloof, + And when I tell of Courtesy, + Of well-attemper'd Zeal, + Of awful Prudence soothing fell Contention, + Where shall the lineaments agree + But in thee, ONSLOW? You, your wonted leave + Indulge me, nor misdeem a Soldier's bold emprize; + + + IV. + + Who in the dissonance of barb'rous war, + Long train'd, revisits oft the sacred treasures + Of antique memory; + Or where sage Pindar reins his fiery car, + Through the vast vault of heaven secure, + Or what the Attic muse that Homer fill'd, + Her other son, thy Milton taught, + Or range the flow'ry fields of gentle Spenser. + + + V. + + And ever as I go, allurements vain + Cherish a feeble fire, and feed my idle + Fancy: O cou'd I once + Charm to their melody my shrilling reeds! + To HENRYS and to EDWARDS old, + Dread names! I'd meditate the faithful song; + Or tell what time BRITANNIA, + Whilom the fairest daughter of old Ocean, + + + VI. + + In loathly disarray, dull eyes, + And faded cheek, wept o'er her abject sons: + Till WILLIAM, great deliverer, + Led on the comely train, gay Liberty, + Religion, matron staid, + With all her kindred goddesses; + Justice with steady brow, + Trim Plenty, laureat Peace, and green-hair'd Commerce, + In flowing vest of thousand hues. + Fain would I shadow out old Bourbon's pile + Tott'ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ning cumbrous fall; + + + VII. + + Or trace our navy, where in tow'ring pride + O'er the wide-swelling waste it rolls avengeful. + As when collected clouds + Forth from the gloomy south in deep array, + Athwart the dark'ning landscape throng, + Fraught with loud storms, and thunder's dreadful peal, + At which the murd'rer stands aghast, + And wasting Riot ill dissembles terror. + + + VIII. + + How headlong Rhone and Ebro erst distain'd + With moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her branches! + Soon shall I greet the morn, + When, Europe sav'd, BRITAIN and GEORGE'S name + Shall sound o'er Flandria's level field, + Familiar in domestic meriment; + Or by the jolly mariner + Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube. + + + IX. + + The just memorial of fair deeds + Still flourishes, and like th' untainted soul + Blossoms in freshest age, above + The weary flesh, and envy's rankling wound. + Such after years mature + In full account shall be thy meed. + O! may your rising hope + Well principled in ev'ry virtue bloom! + Till a fresh-springing flock implore + With infant hands a grandsire's pow'rful pray'r, + Or round your honour'd couch their prattling sports persue. + + +FOOTNOTE: + +[14] This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the +Learned World, as a token of gratitude for favours conferred on his +father, during the last war, whose character he has therein affirmed. + + + + +JOB, CHAPTER XXXIX. + +BY A GENTLEMAN OF OXFORD. + + + Declare, if heav'nly wisdom bless thy tongue, + When teems the MOUNTAIN-GOAT with promis'd young; + The stated seasons tell, the month explain, + When feels the bounding HIND a mother's pain; + While, in th' oppressive agonies of birth, + Silent they bow the sorrowing head to earth? + Why crop their lusty seed the verdant food? + Why leave their dams, to search the gloomy wood? + Say, whence the WILD-ASS wantons o'er the plain, + Sports uncontroul'd, unconscious of the rein? + 'Tis his o'er scenes of solitude to roam, + The waste his house, the wilderness his home; + He scorns the crouded city's pomp and noise, + Nor heeds the driver's rod, nor hears his voice; + At will on ev'ry various verdure fed, + His pasture o'er the shaggy cliffs is spread. + Will the fierce UNICORN obey thy call, + Enslav'd to man, and patient of the stall? + Say, will he stubborn stoop thy yoke to bear, + And thro' the furrow drag the tardy share? + Say, canst thou think, O wretch of vain belief, + His lab'ring limbs will draw thy weighty sheaf? + Or canst thou tame the temper of his blood + With faithful feet to trace the destin'd road? + Who paints the PEACOCK'S train with radiant eyes, + And all the bright diversity of dies? + Whose hand the stately OSTRICH has supply'd + With glorious plumage, and her snowy pride? + Thoughtless she leaves amid the dusty way, + Her eggs, to ripen in the genial ray; + Nor heeds, that some fell beast, who thirsts for blood, + Or the rude foot may crush the future brood. + In her no love the tender offspring share, + No soft remembrance, no maternal care: + For God has steel'd her unrelenting breast, + Nor feeling sense, nor instinct mild imprest, + Bade her the rapid-rushing steed despise, + Outstrip the rider's rage, and tow'r amidst the skies. + Didst thou the HORSE with strength and beauty deck? + Hast thou in thunder cloath'd his nervous neck? + Will he, like groveling grashoppers afraid, + Start at each sound, at ev'ry breeze dismay'd? + A cloud of fire his lifted nostrils raise, + And breathe a glorious terror as they blaze. + He paws indignant, and the valley spurns, + Rejoycing in his might, and for the battle burns. + When quivers rattle, and the frequent spear + Flies flashing, leaps his heart with languid fear? + Swallowing with fierce and greedy rage the ground, + "Is this, he cries, the trumpet's warlike sound?" + Eager he scents the battle from afar, + And all the mingling thunder of the war. + Flies the fierce HAWK by thy supreme command, + To seek soft climates, and a southern land? + Who bade th' aspiring EAGLE mount the sky, + And build her firm aerial nest on high? + On the bare cliff, or mountain's shaggy steep, + Her fortress of defence she dares to keep; + Thence darts her radiant eye's pervading ray, + Inquisitive to ken the distant prey. + Seeks with her thirsty brood th' ensanguin'd plain, + There bathes her beak in blood, companion of the slain. + + + + +ODE + +ON THE + +DEATH OF MR. THOMSON, + +BY MR. COLLINS. + + THE SCENE OF THE FOLLOWING STANZAS + + IS SUPPOSED TO LIE ON THE + + THAMES, NEAR RICHMOND. + + + I. + + In yonder grave a Druid lies + Where slowly winds the stealing wave! + The year's best sweets shall duteous rise + To deck its Poet's sylvan grave! + + + II. + + In yon deep bed of whisp'ring reeds + His airy harp[15] shall now be laid, + That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, + May love thro' life the soothing shade. + + + III. + + Then maids and youths shall linger here, + And while its sounds at distance swell, + Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear + To hear the Woodland Pilgrim's knell. + + + IV. + + Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore + When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, + And oft suspend the dashing oar + To bid his gentle spirit rest! + + + V. + + And oft as Ease and Health retire + To breezy lawn, or forest deep, + The friend shall view yon whitening [16]spire, + And 'mid the varied landscape weep. + + + VI. + + But Thou, who own'st that earthy bed, + Ah! what will every dirge avail? + Or tears, which Love and Pity shed + That mourn beneath the gliding sail! + + + VII. + + Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye + Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimm'ring near? + With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die; + And Joy desert the blooming year. + + + VIII. + + But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide + No sedge-crown'd Sisters now attend, + Now waft me from the green hill's side + Whose cold turf hides the buried friend! + + + IX. + + And see, the fairy valleys fade, + Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view! + Yet once again, dear parted shade, + Meek Nature's Child, again adieu! + + + X. + + The genial meads assign'd to bless + The life, shall mourn thy early doom, + Their hinds, and shepherd-girls shall dress + With simple hands thy rural tomb. + + + XI. + + Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay + Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes, + O! vales, and wild woods, shall He say + In yonder grave Your Druid lies! + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[15] The harp of ÆOLUS, of which see a description in the CASTLE OF +INDOLENCE. + +[16] RICHMOND Church. + + + + +THE CHILD BIRTH. + +IN THE MANNER OF GAY. + + + The doleful dumps I sing, and tearful woes, + Of MARIAN teeming with unlawful throes: + The sheenest lass in Berkshire was she known, + Of all that butter sell to Reading town: + Not the seven sisters could o'er her prevail, + The golden farmer's daughters of the vale, + Tho' every Oxford muse their charms has sung + And gravest doctors[17] join'd the tuneful throng. + + Ye peers! who careless of ambition, chuse + To court the labours of the past'ral muse; + And all the wond'rous bards who try the lay + Where black Cam rolls, or Isis' eddies play, + Assist the labours of an humble swain, + Rude to the pipe, and novice on the plain. + + Nine months successive now had rolled round, + Since MARIAN first the pleasing mischief found; + In vain her hands had cull'd th' abortive weed, + Nor aught avail'd the 'pothecary's aid. + Her womb began with fatal size to swell, + And sick'ning qualms the blushful secret tell: + Then all in sad despair she made her moan, + Lodona's waters echoed groan for groan. + "Ah! faithless COLIN CLOUT! ah, luckless I! + "And canst thou, cruel! from thy MARIAN fly? + "How often hast thou suck'd my panting breath? + "How often swore to love me true till death? + "But to the Justice I'll reveal my plight, + "And with a constable pursue thy flight. + "Ah! how unequal, as our parson preaches, + "Are this world's goods! and sure he rightly teaches; + "For what to maidens brings eternal stain, + "(Sad management!) gives honour to the swain. + "'Twas on the blithest morn of all the year, + "When new-born May bids every shepherd chear; + "When artful maids their rival fancies shew, + "And well-wrought garlands bloom on ev'ry bough; + "When gaudy fairs bespangle every street, + "And lowing cows the novel pasture greet; + "Fresh rose I, MARIAN hight, from rustic bed, + "The morning dream still hov'ring o'er my head; + "Gay shews and sweethearts had employ'd my thought, + "The kiss imprinted, and the fairing bought! + "From lavander I drew the tucker'd smock, + "And hosen boastful of a various clock; + "The silver'd knot well scollop'd on my head, + "And donn'd the sunday gown berob'd with red. + "Thus all bedight, and ready for the fair, + "I sat impatient with a wistful air, + "Expecting COLIN CLOUT, my perjur'd swain, + "Who always follow'd MARIAN on the plain: + "With him the moon-light walk I us'd to tread, + "With him I danc'd upon the sportive mead; + "That very morn had taught the snails to crawl, + "And print mysterious letters on the wall. + "At length he came, and I with joyous meed + "Mounted behind him on the pillion'd steed: + "Sweetly I sung, he whistled to the lay, + "Sweetly I sung the song, and sung the day: + "_What beauteous scenes_ began the tuneful tale! + "And next I humm'd _the sweets of Arno's vale_; + "Then MOLLY MOGG, fair damsel of the Rose, + "And _lovely_ PEGGY, taste of London beaux. + "And now in view gay Reading strikes our eyes, + "And all the dainties of the fair arise: + "Here Birmingham its boasted ware displays, + "There leather breeches hight, and bodice stays; + "Here posied garters flutter'd in the way, + "There painted hobby-horses seem to neigh; + "Here belles in gingerbread all gilded over, + "And little gew-gaw H----YS act the lover. + "Shepherds and nymphs from every part repair, + "All who from Oxford hills direct the share, + "Who fell the forest, or who mow the mead, + "Or drag in little boats the finny breed: + "Her wide-mouth'd sons low-seated Henley sends, + "And smoky Okingham it's tribute lends. + "But far did MARIAN all the rest outvie, + "No cheek so ruddy, nor so black an eye; + "Scarce DOLLY C----K the daughter of the may'r, + "With all the flaxen ringlets of her hair, + "With all the snowy fulness of her breast, + "In blithsome features might with me contest. + "All youths ambitiously around me strove, + "Each gave some chosen emblem of his love; + "One queintly bought the garters for my thighs, + "While simple archness sparkled in his eyes. + "But all their fairings unsuccessful prove, + "Still true to COLIN CLOUT I held my love. + "----Ah! sly deceiver! you enclasp'd my arm, + "And seem'd my saviour, while you meant my harm; + "Far too unequal was the high reward, + "My maidenhead must pay thee for thy guard; + "Already warm'd with joy you win my heart, + "And stamp a little COLIN e'er we part. + "--Yet now, when nature fills my womb, to fly-- + "Nor yet one tear to issue from thine eye-- + "My slighted love to quick resentment turns; + "Lo my blood rises, and my cheek all burns! + "O I could tear thee as I tear this glove-- + "Go, horrid monster! I despise thy love, + "Thy oaths I quit, thy fairings I resign, + "Forget, renounce thee, hate whate'er was thine. + "[18]No christian mother bound thy infant head, + "Some Turk begat thee, or some Papist bred; + "Or dropt on Cambrian hills, a squalid brat, + "Some she-goat suckled thee with savage teat. + "[19]--Go to thy drab, whoe'er has won thy heart, + "And may the pox devouring make thee smart; + "[20]My vengeful ghost shall haunt thee o'er the plain, + "Yes, thou shalt suffer, villain, for my pain. + "--But ah! my rage relents, my sorrow flows; + "Come COLIN! faithless shepherd! ease my woes. + "And must I in the sheet opprobrious stand? + "Thy plight is troth'd, ah! come and give thy hand: + "My conscience starts, whene'er I hear a knell, + "And is a little love deserving hell? + "Too hard a penance for a sin so slight! + "Ah how my heart misgives me every night! + "When sleep has clos'd my sorrow-streaming eyes, + "Then ghastly dreams, and hateful thoughts arise: + "[21]All unaccompany'd methinks I go + "O'er Irish bogs, a wilderness of woe! + "Ah! my wits turn! strange phantoms round me fly! + "Lo! I am chang'd into a goosb'ry pye! + "Forbear to eat me up, inhuman rabble! + "Cocks crow, ducks quake, hens cackle, turkies gabble." + + Thus as she rav'd, her womb with rueful throes + Did to the light a lusty babe disclose: + Long while she doubted of the smirking boy, + Or on her knee to dandle, or destroy; + Love prompted her to save, and Pride to drown, + At length Pride conquer'd, and she dropt her son. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[17] The Rev. Dr. WILKES wrote a poem upon them. + +[18] _Nec tibi diva parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor, + Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens + Caucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt ubera tigres._ + +[19] _I, sequere Italiam ventis, &c. + Spero equidem mediis, siquid pia numina, &c._ + +[20] _Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, poenas._ + Æn. 4. + +[21] _----Semperque relinqui + Sola sibi, semper longam_ incomitata _videtur + Ire viam, & Tyrios desertâ quærere terrâ, + Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus, &c._ + Æn. 4. + + + + +ON A + +LADY'S + +PRESENTING A SPRIG OF MYRTLE + +TO A + +GENTLEMAN. + +BY MR. HAMMOND. + + + What fears, what terrors does thy gift create! + Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate! + The myrtle, ensign of supreme command, + (Consign'd by VENUS to MELISSA'S hand) + Not less capricious than a reigning fair, + Oft favours, oft rejects the lover's care. + In myrtle groves oft sings the happy swain, + In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain; + The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads, + Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads; + Oh! then the meaning of thy gift impart, + And cure the throbbings of an anxious heart; + Soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom, + Adorn PHILANDER'S head, or grace his tomb. + + + + +TO + +A YOUNG LADY + +WITH + +FONTENELLE'S PLURALITY OF WORLDS. + + + In this small work all nature's wonders see, + The soften'd features of philosophy. + In truth by easy steps you here advance, + Truth, as diverting as the best romance. + Long had these arts to sages been confin'd, + None saw their beauty, till by poring blind; + By studying spent, like men that cram too full, + From Wisdom's feast they rose not chear'd, but dull: + The gay and airy smil'd to see 'em grave, + And fled such wisdom like TROPHONIUS' cave. + Justly they thought they might those arts despise, + Which made men sullen, ere they could be wise. + Brought down to sight, with ease you view 'em here; + Tho' deep the bottom, yet the stream is clear. + Your flutt'ring sex still valued science less; + Careless of any, but the arts of dress. + Their useless time was idly thrown away + On empty novels, or some new-born play. + The best, perhaps, a few loose hours might spare + For some unmeaning thing, miscall'd a pray'r. + In vain the glittering orbs, each starry night, + With mingling blazes shed a flood of light: + Each nymph with cold indiff'rence saw 'em rise; + And, taught by fops, to them preferr'd her eyes. + None thought the stars were suns so widely sown, + None dreamt of other worlds, besides our own. + Well might they boast their charms, when ev'ry fair + Thought this world all, and hers the brightest here. + Ah! quit not the large thoughts this book inspires, + For those thin trifles which your sex admires; + Assert your claim to sense, and shew mankind, + That reason is not to themselves confin'd. + The haughty belle, whose beauty's awful shrine. + 'Twere sacrilege t' imagine not divine, + Who thought so greatly of her eyes before, + Bid her read this, and then be vain no more. + How poor ev'n You, who reign without controul, + If we except the beauties of your soul! + Should all beholders feel the same surprize; + Should all who see you, see you with my eyes; + Were no such blasts to make that beauty less; + Should you be what I think, what all confess: + 'Tis but a narrow space those charms engage; + One Island only, and not half an Age. + + + + +ODE + + +ON THE FIFTH OF DECEMBER, + +Being the BIRTH-DAY of a very beautiful YOUNG LADY. + +BY MR. CHRISTOPHER SMART. + + + I. + + Hail eldest of the monthly train, + Sire of the winter drear, + DECEMBER, in whose iron reign + Expires the chequer'd year: + Hush all the blust'ring blasts that blow, + And proudly plum'd in silver snow + Smile gladly on this blest of days; + The livery'd clouds shall on thee wait, + And PHOEBUS shine in all his state, + With more than summer rays. + + + II. + + Tho' jocund JUNE may justly boast + Long days and happy hours; + Tho' AUGUST be POMONA'S host, + And MAY be crown'd with flow'rs; + Tell JUNE his fire and crimson dyes + By HARRIOT'S blush, and HARRIOT'S eyes + Eclips'd and vanquish'd fade away; + Tell AUGUST, thou canst let him see + A richer, riper fruit than He, + A sweeter flow'r than MAY. + + + + +PART OF THE + +PROLOGUE + +TO + +SIR DAVID LYNDESAY'S DREAM. + +WRITTEN IN THE REIGN OF KING JAMES V. + + + I. + + In the kalendies of Januarie, + When fresche PHOEBUS by moving circulair + From Capricorn was enter'd in Aquarie, + With blastis that the branches made full bare, + The snow and sleet perturbit all the air, + And flemit FLORA from everie bank and bus, + Throuch support of the austeir Eolus. + + + II. + + Efter that I the lang wynteris night + Had lyne waking in my bed allone + Throw hevy thought, that na way sleep I micht, + Remembering of divers thingis gone; + Sa up I rois, and cleithit me anone + By this fair Titan with his lemis licht + O'er all the land had spred his banner bricht. + + + III. + + With cloke and hude I dressit me belive, + With dowbill schone, and myttains on my handis, + Howbeit the air was richt penetratyve, + Zet fure I forth lansing outhort the landis, + Towards the sea, to schort me on the sandis + Because unblomit was baith bank and bray, + And sa as I was passing by the way, + + + IV. + + I met dame FLORA in dule weid disagysit, + Quilk into May was dulce and delectabill, + With stalwart stormis hir sweetness was surprisit, + Hir heavinlie hewis war turnit into sabill, + Quilkis umguile war to Luffaris amiabill, + Fled from the froist, the tender flouris I saw + Under dame Nature's mantill lurking law. + + + V. + + The small fowlis in flockis saw I flee + To nature makand lamentatioun, + They lichtit down beside me on ane tree, + Of thair complaint I had compassioun, + And with ane piteous exclamation + They said "blyssit be somer with his flouris, + "And waryit be thou wynter with thy schowris. + + + VI. + + "Allace AURORE, (the sillie lark did cry) + "Quhair has thou left thy balmy liquour sweit, + "That us rejoisit mounting in the sky? + "Thy silver dropps are turned into sleit. + "Of fair PHEBUS quhair is the holsum heit, + "Quhy tholis thow thy hevinlie plesand face, + "With mystie vapouris to be obscurit, allace! + + + VII. + + "Quhair art thou May, with June thy sister schene + "Weill bordourit with daseis of delyte? + "And gentill Julie, with thy mantill grene, + "Enamelit with rosis reid and quhyte? + "Now auld and cauld Januar in dispyte + "Reissis from us all pastime and plesure + "Allace! quhait gentle hart may this indure? + + + VIII. + + "Ovirsilit ar with cloudis odious + "The goldin skyis of the orient, + "Changeing in sorrow our sing melodious, + "Quhilk we had wont to sing with gude intent, + "Resoundand to the hevinnis firmament, + "But now our day is changed into the nicht," + With that they rose and flew forth of my sicht. + + + + +HARDYKNUTE. + +A FRAGMENT. + + + I. + + Stately stept he east the wa, + And stately stept he west, + Full seventy zeirs he now had sene, + With skerss sevin zeirs of rest. + He livit quhen Britons breach of faith + Wroucht Scotland meikle wae. + And ay his sword told to their cost, + He was their deidly fae. + + + II. + + Hie on a hill his castle stude, + With halls and touris a hicht, + And guidly chambers fair to se, + Quair he lodgit mony a knicht. + His Dame sa peirless anes and fair, + For chast and bewtie deimt, + Nae marrow had in all the land, + Saif ELENOR the queen. + + + III. + + Full thirtein sons to him scho bare, + All men of valour stout; + In bluidy ficht with sword in hand, + Nyne lost their lives bot doubt; + Four zit remain, lang may they live + To stand my liege and land: + Hie was their fame, hie was their micht, + And hie was their command. + + + IV. + + Great luve they bare to FAIRLY fair, + Their sister saft and deir, + Her girdle shawd her middle gimp; + And gowden glist her hair. + Quhat waefou wae hir bewtie bred? + Waefou to zung and auld, + Waefou I trow to kyth and kin, + As story ever tauld. + + + V. + + The king of Norse in summer tyde, + Puft up with power and micht, + Landed in fair Scotland the yle, + With mony a hardy knicht: + The tydings to our gude Scots king + Came, as he sat at dyne, + With noble chiefs in braif aray, + Drinking the blude-reid wyne. + + + VI. + + "To horse, to horse, my ryal liege, + "Zour faes stand on the strand, + "Full twenty thousand glittering spears + "The king of Norse commands. + Bring me my steed Mage dapple grey, + Our gude king raise and cryd, + A trustier beast in all the land + A Scots king nevir seyd. + + + VII. + + Go little page, tell HARDYKNUTE, + That lives on hill so hie, + To draw his sword, the dreid of faes, + And haste and follow me. + The little page flew swift as dart + Flung by his master's arm, + Cum down, cum down lord HARDYKNUTE, + And rid zour king frae harm. + + + VIII. + + + Then reid, reid grow his dark-brown cheiks, + Sae did his dark-brown brow; + His luiks grew kene, as they were wont, + In dangers great to do; + He hes tane a horn as grene as glass, + And gien five sounds sae shrill, + That treis in grene wode schuke thereat, + Sae loud rang ilka hill. + + + IX. + + His sons in manly sport and glie, + Had pass'd the summer's morn, + Quhen lo! down in a grassy dale, + They heard their fatheris horn. + That horn, quod they, neir sounds in peace, + We haif other sport to byde; + And sune they heyd them up the hill, + And sune were at his syde. + + + X. + + Late, late the zestrene I weind in peace + To end my lengthen'd lyfe, + My age micht weil excuse my arm + Frae manly feats of stryfe; + But now that NORSE dois proudly boast + Fair Scotland to inthrall, + Its neir be said of HARDYKNUTE + He feard to ficht or fall. + + + XI. + + ROBIN of Rothsay, bend thy bow, + Thy arrows shoute sae leil, + Many a comely countenance + They haif turnd to deidly pale: + Brade THOMAS tak ze but zour lance, + Ze need nae weapons mair, + Gif ze ficht weit as ze did anes + Gainst Westmorland's serfs heir. + + + XII. + + MALCOM, licht of fute as stag + That runs in forest wyld, + Get me my thousands thrie of men + Well bred to sword and schield: + Bring me my horse and harnisine + My blade of metal cleir; + If faes kend but the hand it bare, + They sune had fled for feir. + + + XIII. + + Farewell my dame sae peirless gude, + And take her by the hand, + Fairer to me in age zou seim, + Than maids for bewtie fam'd: + My zoungest son sall here remain + To guard these stately towirs, + And shut the silver bolt that keips + Sae fast zour painted bowirs. + + + XIV. + + And first scho wet her comely cheiks, + And then hir boddice grene, + Hir silken cords of twirtle twist, + Weil plett with silver schene; + And apron set with mony a dice + Of neidle-wark sae rare, + Wove by nae hand, as ze may guess, + Saif that of FAIRLY fair. + + + XV. + + And he has ridden owre muir and moss, + Owre hills and mony a glen, + Quhen he came to a wounded knicht, + Making a heavy mane; + Here maun I lye, here maun I die, + By treacheries false gyles; + Witless I was that eir gaif faith + To wicked womans smiles. + + + XVI. + + Sir knicht, gin ze were in my bowir, + To lean on silken seat, + To ladyis kindly care zoud prove, + Quha neir stend deidly hate; + Hir self wald watch ze all the day, + Hir maids a deid of nicht; + And FAIRLY fair zour heart wald cheir, + As scho stands in zour sicht. + + + XVII. + + Aryse zoung knicht, and mount zour steid, + Full lowns the shynand day, + Cheis frae my menzie quhom ze pleis, + To leid ze on the way. + With smyless luke, and visage wan, + The wounded knicht reply'd, + Kynd chiftain, zour intent pursue, + For here I maun abyde. + + + XVIII. + + To me nae after day nor nicht, + Can eir be sweit or fair, + But sune beneath sum draping tree, + Cauld death sall end my care. + With him nae pleiding micht prevail, + Brave HARDYKNUTE in to gain, + With fairest words and reason strong, + Strave courteously in vain. + + + XIX. + + Syne he has gane far hynd attowre, + Lord CHATTANS land sae wyde, + That lord a worthy wicht was ay, + Quhen faes his courage seyd: + Of Pictish race by mothers syde, + Quhen Picts ruld Caledon, + Lord CHATTAN claimd the princely maid, + Quhen he saift Pictish crown. + + + XX. + + Now with his serfs and stalwart train, + He reicht a rysing heicht, + Quhair braid encampit on the dale, + Norss menzie lay in sicht; + Zonder my valiant sons and serfs, + Our raging revers wait, + On the unconquerit Scottish swaird, + To try with us thair fate. + + + XXI. + + Mak orisons to him that saift + Our sauls upon the rude, + Syne braifly schaw zour veins ar filld + With Caledonian blude. + Then furth he drew his trusty glaive, + Quhyle thousands all arround, + Drawn frae their sheaths glanst in the sun, + And loud the bougills sound. + + + XXII. + + To join his king adoun the hill + In hast his merch he made, + Quhyle, playand pibrochs, minstralls meit + Afore him stately strade; + Thryse welcome, valziant stoup of weir, + Thy nations scheild and pryde; + Thy king nae reason has to feir + Quhen thou art by his syde. + + + XXIII. + + Quhen bows were bent and darts were thrawn, + For thrang scarce could they flie, + The darts clove arrows as they met, + The arrows dart the trie. + Lang did they rage and ficht full ferss, + With little skaith to man, + But bludy, bludy was the field, + Or that lang day was done. + + + XXIV. + + The king of Scots that findle bruik'd + The war that luikd like play, + Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow, + Sen bows seimt but delay: + Quoth noble ROTHSAY, myne I'll keip, + I wate its bleid a skore. + Hast up my merry men, cryd the king, + As he rade on before. + + + XXV. + + The king of Norse he socht to find, + With him to mense the faucht, + But on his forehead there did licht + A sharp unsonsie shaft; + As he his hand put up to find + The wound, an arrow kene, + O waefou chance! there pinnd his hand + In midst betwene his ene. + + + XXVI. + + Revenge, revenge, cryd ROTHSAYS heir, + Your mail-coat sall nocht byde + The strength and sharpness of my dart; + Then sent it through his syde: + Another arrow weil he markd, + It persit his neck in twa, + His hands then quat the silver reins, + His law as eard did fa. + + + XXVII. + + Sair bleids my liege, sair, sair he bleids. + Again with micht he drew + And gesture dreid his sturdy bow, + Fast the braid arrow flew: + Wae to the knicht he ettled at, + Lament now quene ELGREID, + Hie dames to wail zour darlings fall, + His zouth and comely meid. + + + XXVIII. + + Take aff, take aff his costly jupe + (Of gold weil was it twynd, + Knit lyke the fowlers net throuch quhilk + His steilly harness shynd) + Take NORSE, that gift frae me, and bid + Him venge the blude it beirs; + Say, if he face my bended bow, + He sure nae weapon fears. + + + XXIX. + + Proud NORSE with giant body tall, + Braid shoulder and arms strong, + Cryd, quhair is HARDYKNUTE sae famd, + And feird at Britains throne? + Tho Britons tremble at his name, + I sune sall make him wail, + That eir my sword was made sae sharp, + Sae saft his coat of mail. + + + XXX. + + That brag his stout heart coud na byde. + It lent him zouthfou micht: + I'm HARDYKNUTE this day, he cryd, + To Scotlands king I hecht, + To lay thee low at horses hufe, + My word I mean to keip. + Syne with the first strake eir he strake, + He garrd his body bleid. + + + XXXI. + + NORSE ene like gray gosehawks staird wyld, + He sicht with shame and spyte; + Disgracd is now my far-famd arm + That left thee power to stryke: + Then gaif his head a blaw sae fell, + It made him doun to stoup, + As law as he to ladies usit, + In courtly gyse to lout. + + + XXXII. + + Full sune he reis'd his bent body, + His bow he marvelld sair, + Sen blaws till then on him but darrd + As touch of FAIRLY fair: + NORSE ferliet too as sair as he + To se his stately luke, + Sae sune as eir he strake a fae, + Sae sune his lyfe he tuke. + + + XXXIII. + + Quair lyke a fyre to hether set, + Bauld THOMAS did advance, + A sturdy fae with luke enragd + Up towards him did prance; + He spurd his steid throw thickest ranks + The hardy zouth to quell + Quha stude unmusit at his approach + His furie to repel. + + + XXXIV. + + That schort brown shaft sae meanly trimd, + Lukis lyke poor Scotlands geir, + But dreidfull seims the rusty point! + And loud he leuch in jeir. + Aft Britains blude has dimd its shyne + This poynt cut short their vaunt; + Syne piercd the boisteris bairded cheik, + Nae tyme he tuke to taunt. + + + XXXV. + + Schort quhyle he in his sadill swang, + His stirrip was nae stay, + Sae feible hang his unbent knee, + Sure taken he was fey: + Swith on the hardened clay he fell, + Richt far was heard the thud, + But THOMAS luikt not as he lay, + All waltering in his blude. + + + XXXVI. + + With cairles gesture mynd ummuvit + On raid he north the plain, + His seim in thrang of fiercest stryfe, + Quhen winner ay the same; + Nor zit his heart dames dimpelit cheik, + Coud meise saft luve to bruik, + Till vengeful ANN returnd his scorn, + Then languid grew his luke. + + + XXXVII. + + In thrawis of death, with wallowit cheik + All panting on the plain, + The fainting corps of warriors lay, + Neir to aryse again; + Neir to return to native land, + Nae mair with blythsome sounds, + To boist the glories of the day, + And schaw their shyning wounds. + + + XXXXVIII. + + On Norways coast the widowit dame + May wash the rock with teirs, + May lang luke owre the schiples seis + Befoir hir mate appeirs. + Ceise, EMMA, ceise to hope in vain, + Thy lord lyis in the clay, + The valziant Scots nae revers thole + To carry lyfe away. + + + XXXIX. + + There on a lie quhair stands a cross + Set up for monument, + Thousands full fierce that summers day + Filld kene waris black intent. + Let Scots quhyle Scots, praise HARDYKNUTE + Let NORSE the name ay dreid, + Ay how he faucht, aft how he spaird, + Sal latest ages reid. + + + XL. + + Loud and chill blew the westlin wind, + Sair beat the heavy showir, + Mirk grew the nicht, eir HARDYKNUTE + Wan neir his stately towir; + His towir that usd with torches bleise + To shyne sae far at nicht, + Seimd now as black as mourning weid, + Nae marvel sair he sichd. + + + XLI. + + Thairs nae licht in my lady's bowir, + Thairs nae licht in my hall; + Nae blink shynes round my FAIRLY fair, + Nor ward stands on my wall. + Quhat bodes it? ROBERT, THOMAS say, + Nae answer fits their dreid. + Stand back, my sons, I'll be zour gyde, + But by they past with speid. + + + XLII. + + As fast I haif sped owre Scotlands faes, + There ceist his brag of weir, + Sair schamit to mynd ocht but his dame, + And maiden FAIRLY fair. + Black feir he felt, but quhat to feir + He wist not zit with dreid; + Sair schuke his body, sair his limbs, + And all the warrior fleid. + + + + +ODE + +ON LYRIC POETRY. + +BY DR. AKENSIDE. + + Once more I join the Thespian quire, + And taste th' inspiring fount again: + O parent of the Græcian lyre, + Admit me to thy secret strain.---- + And lo! with ease my step invades + The pathless vale and opening shades, + Till now I spy her verdant seat; + And now at large I drink the sound, + While these her offspring, list'ning round, + By turns her melody repeat. + + I see ANACREON smile and sing: + His silver tresses breathe perfume; + His cheek displays a second spring + Of roses taught by wine to bloom. + Away, deceitful cares, away! + And let me listen to his lay! + While flow'ry dreams my soul employ; + While turtle-wing'd the laughing hours + Lead hand in hand the festal pow'rs, + Lead Youth and Love, and harmless Joy. + + Broke from the fetters of his native land, + Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords, + With louder impulse, and a threat'ning hand, + The [22]Lesbian patriot smites the sounding chords: + Ye wretches, ye perfidious train, + Ye curst of Gods and free-born men, + Ye murd'rers of the laws, + Tho' now you glory in your lust, + Tho' now you tread the feeble neck in dust, + Yet time and righteous JOVE will judge your dreadful cause. + + But lo, to SAPPHO'S mournful airs + Descends the radiant queen of love; + She smiles, and asks what fonder cares + Her suppliant's plaintive measures move: + Why is my faithful maid distrest? + Who, SAPPHO, wounds thy tender breast? + Say, flies he?----Soon he shall pursue: + Shuns he thy gifts?----He too shall give: + Slights he thy sorrows?----He shall grieve, + And bend him to thy haughtiest vow. + + But, O MELPOMENE, for whom + Awakes thy golden shell again? + What mortal breath shall e'er presume + To echo that unbounded strain? + Majestic, in the frown of years, + Behold, the [23]Man of Thebes appears: + For some there are, whose mighty frame + The hand of JOVE at birth endow'd + With hopes that mock the gazing crowd; + As eagles drink the noontide flame. + + While the dim raven beats his weary wings, + And clamours far below.----Propitious Muse, + While I so late unlock thy hallow'd springs, + And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, + To polish Albion's warlike ear + This long-lost melody to hear, + Thy sweetest arts imploy; + As when the winds from shore to shore, + Thro' Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore, + Till towns, and isles, and seas return'd the vocal joy. + + But oft amid the Græcian throng, + The loose-rob'd forms of wild desire + With lawless notes intun'd thy song, + To shameful steps dissolv'd thy quire. + O fair, O chaste, be still with me + From such profaner discord free: + While I frequent thy tuneful shade, + No frantic shouts of Thracian dames, + No satyrs fierce with savage flames + Thy pleasing accents shall invade. + Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat + The fairest flow'rs of Pindus glow; + The vine aspires to crown thy seat, + And myrtles round thy laurel grow. + Thy strings attune their varied strain, + To ev'ry pleasure, every pain, + Which mortal tribes were born to prove, + And strait our passions rise or fall, + As at the wind's imperious call + The ocean swells, the billows move. + + When midnight listens o'er the slumb'ring earth, + Let me, O Muse, thy solemn whispers hear: + When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth, + With airy murmurs touch my op'ning ear. + And ever watchful at thy side, + Let wisdom's awful suffrage guide + The tenour of thy lay: + To her of old by JOVE was giv'n + To judge the various deeds of earth and heav'n; + 'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway. + + Oft as from stricter hours resign'd + I quit the maze where science toils, + Do thou refresh my yielding mind + With all thy gay, delusive spoils. + But, O indulgent, come not nigh + The busy steps, the jealous eye + Of gainful care, and wealthy age, + Whose barren souls thy joys disdain, + And hold as foes to reason's reign + Whome'er thy lovely haunts engage. + + With me, when mirth's consenting band + Around fair friendship's genial board + Invite the heart-awakening hand, + With me salute the Teian chord. + Or if invok'd at softer hours, + O seek with me the happy bow'rs + That hear DIONE'S gentle tongue; + To beauty link'd with virtue's train, + To love devoid of jealous pain, + There let the Sapphic lute be strung. + But when from envy and from death to claim + A hero bleeding for his native land; + Or when to nourish freedom's vestal flame, + I hear my genius utter his command, + Nor Theban voice, nor Lesbian lyre + From thee, O Muse, do I require, + While my prophetic mind, + Conscious of pow'rs she never knew, + Astonish'd grasps at things beyond her view, + Nor by another's fate hath felt her own confin'd. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[22] ALCÆUS of Mitylene, the capital of Lesbos, who fled from his native +city to escape the oppression of those who had inslav'd it, and wrote +against them in his exile those noble invectives which are so much +applauded by the ancient critics. + +[23] PINDAR. + + +FINIS. + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES + +Eighteenth-century idiosyncrasies of spelling, punctuation and +capitalisation have been retained. + +The [oe] ligature has been simplified to "oe". + +In the Scottish poems "Prologue to Sir David Lyndesay's Dream" and +"Hardyknute", the letter "z" has been used by the original editor to +represent the letter "yogh". + +The variants "aereal" and "aerial", "All-powerful" and "All-pow'rful", +"far-famd" and "far-fam'd", "noontide" and "noon-tide", "Phebus", +"Phæbus" and "Phoebus", "upland" and "up-land", "woodman" and "wood-man" +appear in this text. + +The poem "A Love-Elegy, by Mr. Hammond" begins on page 57, not 47 (as +given in the Table of Contents). The incorrect page number has been +retained in the Table of Contents. + +On p. 4 quotation marks are missing after "Queen!" but the text has been +left unchanged. + +On p. 69 there should perhaps be closing quotation marks after "print +the ground" and "his father and his God" but the text has been left +unchanged. + +On p. 79 the stanza numbering goes from XXI to XXIII in mid-page. + +On p. 107 there should perhaps be closing quotation marks after "be but +good!" but the text has been left unchanged. + +On p. 115 the line "Is this, he cries, the trumpet's warlike sound?" has +been left unchanged, although quotation marks appear to be missing before +and after "he cries". + +On p. 134 closing quotation marks appear to be missing after "commands" +but the text has been left unchanged. + +On p. 144 stanza number XXXVIII is incorrectly given as XXXXVIII. + + +The following amendments have been made: + +p. 7: missing hyphen inserted in "Flower-de-lyce"; + +p. 16: "reluctant crouds" amended to "reluctant clouds"; + +p. 64: repeated "shall" deleted in "My sympathizing verse shall flow"; + +p. 95: extra comma removed after "swain"; + +p. 100: "votaties" amended to "votaries"; + +p. 109: after "ESQ" comma changed to full stop; + +p. 114: "mounts" changed to "mount". + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Union: Or, Select Scots and +English Poems, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40444 *** |