Unheard by all, but thofe alone

Whom to wisdom's fecret throne

The Muse, with heav'n-taught guidance, deigns to bring,
To trace the facred paths with hallowed feet;
Or, Fancy, who the mystic shade,

In thy airy car, pervade,

Where Plato's raptur'd fpirit holds its folemn feat.

IV.

But, Fancy, downward urge thy flight.
On fome mountain's towering height,

With hoary frofts eternal crown'd,
Rapt with dusky vapours round,

Let me fix my stedfaft feet,
I feel, I feel the fanning gales;
The watʼry mifts beneath retreat.
The noontide ray now darts its heat,
And pours its glories o'er the vales.
Glittering to the dancing beams,

Urging their stubborn way the rocks among,
I hear, and see a thousand streams
Foam, and roar, and rufh along.

But to the plains defcended,

Their fudden rage is ended.

Now loft in deep recefs of darkfome bowers,

Again now fparkling through the meads
Vefted foft with vernal flowers,

Reflecting the majestic towers,

Its peaceful flood the roving channel leads.

There the rural cots are feen,

From whose low roof the curling fmoak afcends,
And dims with blueish volumes all the green.
There fome foreft far extends

Its groves embrown'd with lengthen'd shade;
Embofom'd where fome Gothic feat,

Of monarchs once retreat;

In wild magnificence array'd,

The pride of ancient times prefents,
And lifts, in contraft fair display'd,
Its fun reflecting battlements.

V.

Near, fome imperial city seems to reign,
Triumphant o'er the fubject land;

With domes of art Vitruvian crown'd.
See gleam her gilded fpires around,
Her gates in aweful grandeur stand.
Equal to fhine in peace, or war sustain ;

Her mighty bulwarks threat the plain

With many a work of death, and armed mound.
Where rolls her wealthy river deep and wide,

Tall groves of crowded mafts arife;

Their ftreamers waving to the skies.

The banks are white with fwelling fails,
And diftant veffels ftem the tide,

Circling through pendant cliffs, and watery dales.
The ruffet hills, the valleys green beneath,

The fallows brown, and dufky heath,
The yellow corn, empurpled vine,
In union foft their tints combine,
And, Fancy, all engage thine eye
With a sweet variety.

While clouds the fleeting clouds purfue,
In mutual fhade, and mutual light,
The changing landscape meets the fight;
'Till the ken no more can view;

And heaven appears to meet the ground;
The rifing lands, and azure diftance drown'd
Amid the gay horizon's golden bound.

VI.

Such are the scenes that oft invite

To feed thee, Fancy, with delight.
All that nature can create,
Beauteous, aweful, new and great,
Sweet enthufiaft, is thy treasure,
Source of wonder, and of pleasure ;

Every fenfe to transport winning,
Still unbounded and beginning.

Then, Fancy, fpread thy wings again;
Unlock the caverns of the main.

Above, beneath, and all around:

Let the tumbling billows spread;

'Till the coral floor we tread,

Exploring all the wealth that decks the realms profound; There, gather gems that long have glow'd

In the vast, unknown abode,

The jafper vein'd, the faphire blue,
The ruby bright with crimfon hue,
Whate'er the bed refplendent paves,

Or decks the glittering roofs on high,'
Through whose translucent arch are feen the rolling waves.
Fancy, thefe fhall clasp thy veft,

With these thy lovely brows be drest,

In every gay, and various dye.

But hark!

the feas begin to roar,

The whistling winds affault my ear,

The louring storms around appear

Fancy, bear me to the shore.

There in thy realms, bright goddess, deign

Secure to fix thy votary's feet:

O give to follow oft thy train:

Still with accuftom'd lay thy power to greet;

To dwell with Peace, and sport with thee,
Fancy, ever fair and free.

An Address to his Elbow-chair, new cloath'd.

By the late WM. SOMERVILE, Efq; Author of the Chace*.

M

Y dear companion, and my faithful friend!

If Orpheus taught the liftening oaks to bend ; If stones and rubbish, at Amphion's call,

Danc'd into form, and built the Theban wall;
Why should'st not thou attend my humble lays,
And hear my grateful harp refound thy praise?

True, thou art fpruce and fine, a very beau;
But what are trappings, and external show?
To real worth alone I make my court;

Knaves are my fcorn, and coxcombs are my sport.
Once I beheld thee far lefs trim and gay;
Ragged, disjointed, and to worms a prey;
The fafe retreat of every lurking mouse;
Derided, fhun'd; the lumber of my house!

* Written towards the clofe of Mr. Somervile's life.

Thy