Here the dire locufts horrid fwarms prevail;

Here the blue afps with livid poifon fwell;
Here the dry dipfa writh his finuous mail;
Can we not here fecure from envy dwell?

When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace,
When the ftern panther fought his midnight preys
What fate referv'd me for this chriftian race?
O race more polish'd, more fevere than they!
Ye prouling wolves, purfue my latest cries!
Thou hungry tiger, leave thy reeking den!
Ye fandy waftes, in rapid eddies rife !

O tear me from the whips and fcorns of men!
Yet in their face fuperior beauty glows;

Are fmiles the mien of rapine and of wrong? Yet from their lip the voice of mercy flows,

And ev'n religion dwells upon their tongue. Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes,

Where gentle minds convey'd by death repair, But ftain'd with blood, and crimfon'd o'er with crimes, Say, fhall they merit what they paint fo fair? No, careless, hopeless, of thofe fertile plains, Rich by our toils, and by our forrows gay, They ply our labours, and enhance our pains, And feign these distant regions to repay. For them our tufky elephant expires;

For them we drain the mine's embowel'd gold; Where rove the brutal nations wild defires ?-Our limbs are purchas'd, and our life is fold!

Yet fhores there are, bleft fhores for us remain, And favour'd ifles with golden fruitage crown'd, Where tufted flowrets paint the verdant plain,

Where every breeze shall med'cine every wound. There the ftern tyrant that embitters life

Shall, vainly fuppliant, fpread his afking hand; There fhall we view the billows raging ftrife, Aid the kind breaft, and waft his boat to land."

ELE GY XXI.

Taking a view of the country from his retirement, he is led to meditate on the character of the ancient Britons. Written at the time of a rumoured tax upon luxury, 1746.

TH

HUS Damon fung-What though unknown to praise

Umbrageous coverts hide my Mufe and me; 'Or 'mid the rural hepherds, flow my days, Amid the rural fhepherds, I am free. To view fleek vaffals crowd a ftately hall, Say, fhould I grow myself a folemn slave? To find thy tints, O Titian! grace my wall, Forego the flowery fields my fortune gave? Lord of my time my devious path I bend, Through fringy woodland, or fmooth-fhaven lawn Or penfile grove, or airy cliff afcend,

And hail the fcene by nature's pencil drawn.

Thanks

Thanks be to fate-though nor the racy vine,
Nor fattening olive cloath the fields I rove,
Sequefter'd fhades, and gurgling founts are mine,
And every filvan grott the Mufes love.
Here if my vifta point the mouldering pile,
Where hood and cowl devotion's afpect wore,
I trace the tottering reliques with a smile,
To think the mental bondage is no more!
Pleas'd if the glowing landscape wave with corn;
Or the tall oaks, my country's bulwark, rise;
Pleas'd, if mine eye, o'er thousand vallies borne,
Difcern the Cambrian hills fupport the skies.
And fee Plinlimmon! ev'n the youthful fight

Scales the proud hill's etherial cliffs with pain! Such Caer-caradoc! thy ftupendous height,

Whofe ample shade obfcures th' Iernian main. Bleak, joyless regions! where, by fcience fir'd, Some prying fage his lonely ftep may bend; There, by the love of novel plaints inspir'd, Invidious view the clambering goats ascend. Yet for those mountains, clad with lasting snow, The freeborn Briton left his greenest mead, Receding fullen from his mightier foe,

For here he saw fair liberty recede.

Then if a chief perform'd a patriot's part,
Suftain'd her drooping fons, repell'd her foes,

Above all Perfian luxe, or Attic art,

The rude majestic monument arose.

Pro

Progreffive ages carol'd forth his fame;

Sires, to his praise, attun'd their children's tongue; The hoary druid fed the generous flame,

While in such strains the reverend vizard sung.
"Go forth, my fons !-for what is vital breath,
Your gods expell'd, your liberty refign'd?
Go forth, my fons! for what is instant death
To fouls fecure perennial joys to find?

For fcenes there are, unknown to war or pain,
Where drops the balm that heals a tyrant's wound;
Where patriots, bleft with boundless freedom, reign,
With misletoe's mysterious garlands crown'd.

Such are the names that grace your myftic fongs;
Your folemn woods refound their martial fire;
To you, my fons, the ritual meed belongs,
If in the caufe you vanquish or expire.

Hark! from the facred oak that crowns the groves,
What aweful voice my raptur'd bofom warms;
This is the favour'd moment heaven approves,
Sound the thrill trump; this instant, found to
arms."

Theirs was the fcience of a martial race,

To shape the lance, or decorate the fhield;
Ev'n the fair virgin ftain'd her native grace,
To give new horrors to the tented field.
Now, for fome cheek where guilty blushes glow,
For fome falfe Florimel's impure difguife,
The lifted youth, nor war's loud fignal know,”
Nor virtue's call, nor fame's imperial prize.

Then

Then if foft concord lull'd their fears to fleep,
Inert and filent flept the manly car;

But rufh'd horrific o'er the fearful fteep,
If freedom's awful clarion breath'd to war.
Now the fleek courtier, indolent, and vain,
Thron'd in the fplendid carriage glides fupine
To taint his virtue with a foreign stain,

Or at a favourite's board his faith refign.
Leave them, O luxury! this happy foil!

Chafe her, Britannia, to fome hoftile fhore ! Or* fleece the baneful peft with annual spoil, And let thy virtuous offspring weep no more!

Written in the year

XXII.

when the rights of fepulture were fo frequently violated.

SAY,
AY, gentle fleep, that lov'ft the gloom of night,
Parent of dreams! thou great magician, fay,
Whence my late vifion thus indures the light;
Thus haunts my fancy through the glare of day,
The filent moon had fcal'd the vaulted skies,
And anxious care refign'd my limbs to rest;
A fudden luftre ftruck my wondering eyes,

And Silvia stood before my couch confest. ...Ah! not the nymph fo blooming and fo

gay,

That led the dance beneath the feftive shade!

But the that, in the morning of her day, Intomb'd beneath the grafs-green sod was laid. * Alludes to a tax upon luxury.