Nor e'er was to the bowers of blifs convey'd
A fairer fpirit or more welcome shade.
In what new region, to the just affign'd,
What new employments please th' unbody'd mind;
A winged Virtue, through th' ethereal sky,
From world to world unweary'd does he fly?
Or curious trace the long laborious maze
Of heaven's decrees, where wondering angels gaze?
Does he delight to hear bold feraphs tell
How Michael battle'd, and the dragon fell;
Or, mix'd with milder cherubim, to glow
In hymns of love, not ill effay'd below?
Or doft thou warn poor mortals left behind,
A task well-fuited to thy gentle mind?
Oh! if fometimes thy fpotlefs form defcend;
To me, thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend!
When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms,
When pain diftreffes, or when pleasure charms,
In filent whisperings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart;
Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before,
Till blifs fhall join, nor death can part us more.
That awful form, which, fo the heavens decree,
Muft ftill be lov'd and ftill deplor'd by me;
In nightly vifions feldom fails to rife,
Or, rous'd by Fancy, meets my waking eyes.
If bufinefs calls, or crouded courts invite;
Th' unblemish'd ftatefman, feems to ftrike my fight;
If in the stage I feek to footh my care;
I meet his foul which breathes in Cato there;
If penfive to the rural shades
'His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove;
'Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong,
Clear'd fome great truth, or rais'd fome ferious fong:
There patient fhow'd us the wife course to steer,
A candid cenfor, and a friend severe ;
There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
Thou hill, whofe brow the antique ftructures grace,
Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race,
Why, once fo lov'd, when-e'er thy bower appears,
O'er my dim eye-balls glance the fudden tears!
How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair,
Thy floping walks, and unpolluted air!
How fweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees,
Thy noon-tide thadow, and thy evening breeze!
His image thy forfaken bowers restore ;
Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more;
No more the fummer in thy glooms allay'd,
Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade.
From other ills, however Fortune frown'd;
Some refuge in the Muse's art I found;
Reluctant now I touch the trembling string,
Bereft of him, who taught me how to fing;
And these fad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that abfence, they attempt to mourn.
O! muft I then (now fresh my bofom bleeds,
And Craggs in death to Addison fucceeds)
The verfe, begun to one loft friend, prolong,
And weep a second in th' unfinish'd song!
Thefe works divine, which on his death-bed laid To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring fage convey'd, Great, but ill-omen'd monument of fame, Nor he furviv'd to give, nor thou to claim. Swift after him thy focial spirit flies, And close to his, how foon! thy coffin lies. Bleft pair! whofe union future bards fhall tell In future tongues: each other's boast! farewel, Farewel! whom, join'd in fame, in friendship try'd, No chance could fever, nor the grave divide.
A BALLA D.
F Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair,
Bright Lucy was the grace;
Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid ftream
Reflect fo fweet a face :
Till luckless love, and pining care,
Impair'd her rofy hue,
Her coral lips, and damask cheeks,
And eyes of glossy blue.
Oh! have you seen a lily pale,
When beating rains descend ?
So droop'd the flow-confuming maid,
Her life now near its end.
By Lucy warn'd, of flattering fwains
Take heed, ye eafy fair:
Of vengeance due to broken vows,
Ye perjur'd fwains, beware,
Three times, all in the dead of night,
A bell was heard to ring;
And fricking at her window thrice,
The raven flap'd his wing.
Too well the love-lorn maiden knew
The folemn boding found:
And thus, in dying words, bespoke
The virgins weeping round :
"I hear a voice, you cannot hear,
"Which fays, I must not stay;
"I fee a hand, you cannot fee,
"Which beckons me away.
"By a falfe heart, and broken vows,
“In early youth I die :
"Was I to blame, becaufe his bride
"Was thrice as rich as I?
"Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows,
"Vows due to me alone:
"Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kifs,
"Nor think him all thy own.
"To-morrow, in the church to wed,
But know, fond maid; and know, false man, "That Lucy will be there!
"Then bear my corfe, my comrades, bear,
"This bridegroom blithe to meet,
"He in his wedding-trim fo gay,
"I in my winding-sheet.".
She spoke, fhe dy'd, her corfe was borne,
The bridegroom blithe to meet,
He in his wedding-trim fo gay,
She in her winding-sheet.
Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?
How were these nuptials kept?
The bridesmen flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.
-Confufion, fhame, remorfe, defpair,
At once his bofom fwell :
The damps of death bedew'd his brow,
He fhook, he groan'd, he fell.
From the vain bride, ah, bride no more!
The varying crimson fled,
When, ftretch'd before her rival's corfe,
She faw her husband dead.
Then to his Lucy's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling swains,
One mould with her, beneath one fod,
For ever he remains.
Oft at this grave, the conftant hind
And plighted maid are seen;
With garlands gray, and true-love knots,
They deck the facred green;
But, fwain forfworn, whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd spot forbear;
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,
And fear to meet him there.
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