$60. A-Moral Reflection. Written on the firft For hark! high-thron'd on yon majestic walls,

§ 61. The Triumph of Ifis, occafioned by Ifis, an Where Cam, meand'ring thro' the matted reeds,

E en lite when Radcliffe's delegated train
Aufpicious fhone in Ifis' happy plain; [thrine,
When you proud dome fair learning's amplest
Beneath its attic roofs receiv'd the Nine;
Was rapture mute, or ceas'd the glad acclaim,
To Radcliffe due, and His' honour'd name?
What free-born crowds adorn'd the feftive day,
Nor blush'd to wear my tributary bay!
How each brave breast with honeft ardoursheav'd,
When Shelton's fane the patriot band receiv'd;
While, as we loudly hail'd the chofen few,
Rone's awful fenate ruth'd upon the view!
O my the day in lateft anuals thine,
That made a Baufort and an Harley mine;
That bade them leave the loftier fcene awhile,Of harps unfeen have fwept the poet's ear;

In vain the forest lent its ftatelieft pride,
Rear'd her tall maft, and fram'd her knotty fide;
The martial thunder's rage in vain the food,
With ev'ry conflict of the formy flood;
More fure the reptile's little arts devour
Than wars, or waves, or Eurus' wintry pow'r
Ye fretted pinnacles, ye fanes fublime,
Ye tow'rs that wear the mofly vest of time!
Ye maily piles of old munificence,
At once the pride of learning and defence;
Ye cloisters pale, that length'ning to the fight
To contemplation, step by step, invite;
Ye high-arc'd walks, where oft the whispers.
clear

The pomp of guiltles ftate, the patriot toil,
For bleeding Albion's aid the fage design,
To hold 'hort dalliance with the tuneful Nine!
Then muuc left her filver sphere on high,
And bore each train of triumph from the fky;
Swell'd the loud fong, and to my chiefs around
Pour'd the full peans of mellious found.
My Nands blythe the dying accents caught,
And latening danc'd beneath their pearly grot:
In gentler eddies play'd my conscious wave,
And all my reeds their fofteft whispers gave;
Ethly with brighter green adorn'd my bow'rs,
And breath'd a fresher fragrance on my flow'rs.
But lo! at once the peiling concerts ceafe,
And crowded theatres are huih'd in peace.
See, on yon fage, how all attentive stand,
To carch his parting eye, and waving hand.
Hark! he begins with all a Tully's art,
To pour the dictates of a Cato's heart. [fpire,
Skib'd to pronounce what nobleft thoughts in-
He blends the fpeaker's with the patriot's fire;
Bold to conceive, nor tim'rous to conceal,
Wit Britons dare to think he dares to tell.
'Tis his alike the ear and eyes to charm,
To win with action, and with fenie to warm.
Tataught in dowry periods to difpenfe
The billing founds of fweet impertinence:
L. frowns or fmiles he gains an equal prize,
Nor meanly fears to fall, nor creeps to rife;
Lids happier days to Albion be reilor'd,
Bds ancient juftice rear her radiant fword;
Iran me, as from my country, claims applaufe,
And makes an Oxford's a Britannia's caufe.
While arms like these my itedfait fages wield,
Waile mine is Truth's impenetrable shield;
Sv, fhall the puny champion fondly dare
To wage with force like this fcholaftic war?
Seil vainly fcribble on with pert pretence,
With all the rage of pedant impotence?
Sy, thall I foiter this domeftic peft,
This parricide, that wounds a mother's breast?
Thus in fome gallant fhip that long has bore" Lo! thofe the leaders of thy patriot line,"
Britain's victorious crofs from thore to fhore,
By chance, beneath her clofe fequefter'd cells
Sine low-born worm, a lurking mischief dwells;
Fats his blind way, and faps with fecret guile
Ihe deep foundations of the floating pile.

Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays
Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praife;
Lo! your lov'd Ifis, from the bord`ring vale,
With all a mother's fondnefs bids you hail!
Hail, Oxford, hail! of all that's good and great,
Of all that's fair, the guardian and the feat;
Nurfe of each brave purfuit, each gen'rous aim,
By truth exalted to the throne of fame!
Like Greece in fcience and in liberty,
As Athens learn'd, as Lacedemon free!
Ev'n now, confefs'd to my adoring eyes,
In awful ranks thy gifted fons arife."
Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds,
Thy genuine bards immortal Chaucer leads:
His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing quire,
And beans on all around celeftial fire.
With graceful ftep fee Addifon advance,
The fweetest child of Attic elegance:
See Chillingworth the depths of doubt explore,
And Selden ope the rolls of ancient lore:
To all but his belov'd embrace deny'd,
See Locke read Reason, his majestic bride:
See Hammond pierce religion's golden mine,
And spread the treafur'd stores of Truth divine.

*The Radcliffe Library.

All who to Albion gave the arts of peace,
And beft the labours plann'd of letter'd cafe;
Who taught with truth,or with perfuafion mov'd,
Whofooth'dwithnumbers,orwithfenfeimprov`d,
Who rang'd the pow'rs of reafon, or refin'd
All that adorn'd or humaniz'd the mind;
Each pricit of health, that mix'd the balmy bowl,
To rear frail man, and flay the fleeting foul;
All crowd around, and, echoing to the iky,
Hail! Oxford, hail! with filial tranfport cry.

And fee yon fapient train! with lib'ral aim,
'Twas theirs new plans of liberty to frame;
And on the gothic gloom of flavish sway
To fhed the dawn of intellectual day.
With mild debate each mufing feature glows,
And well-weigh'd counfels mark their meaning
brows.

A Raleigh, Hamden, and a Somers thine.
Thefe from thy fource the bold contagion caught,
Their future ions the great example taught:
While in each youth th hereditary flame
Still blazes, unextinguith'd, and the fame!

I

To mark how buds yon fhrubby mound,
And ev'ry op'ning primrose count
That trimly paints my blooming mount:
Or o'er the fculptures, quaint and rude,
That grace my gloomy folitude,
I teach in winding wreaths to ftray
Fantattic ivy's gadding spray.
At eve, within yon ftudious nook,
ope my brafs-emboffed book,
Pourtray'd with many a holy deed
of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed.
Then, as my taper waxes dim,
Chant, ere I fleep, my meatur'd hymn;
And, at the clofe, the gleams behold
Of parting wings bedropt with gold.
Who but would mile at guilty state?
While fuch pure joys my blifs create,
Who but would with his holy lot
In calin Oblivion's humble grot?
Who but would caft his pomp away,
To take my staff and amice gray;
And to the world's tumultuous ftage
Prefer the blameless hermitage?

Nor all the tasks of thoughtful peace engage, | At morn I take my cuftom'd round,
'Tis thine to form the hero as the fage.
I fee the fable-fuited prince advance
With lilies crown'd,thefpoils of bleeding France,
Edward. The Mufes in yon cloiiter's thade
Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade:
Bade him the feel for British freedom draw;
And Oxford taught the deeds that Creffy faw.
And fee, great father of the facred band,
The Patriot King before me fecins to ftand.
He, by the bloom of this gay vale beguild,
That cheer'd with lively green the thaggy wild,
Hither of yore, forlorn forgotten maid,
The Mufe in prattling infancy convey'd;
From Vandal rage the helpless virgin bore,
And fix'd her cradle on my friendly fhore:
Soon grew the maid beneath his oft'ring hand,
Soon ftream'd her bleffings o'er the enlighten'd
land.
[dwell
Though fimple was the dome, where first to
She deign'd, and rude her early Saxon cell,
Lo! now the holds her ftate in fculptur'd bowr's,
And proudly lifts to heaven her hundred tow'rs.
'Twas Alfred first, with letters and with laws,
Adorn'd, as he advanc'd, his country's caufe:
He bade relent the Briton's ftubborn foul,
And footh'd to foft fociety's controul
A rough untutor'd age. With raptur'd eye
Elate he views his laurel'd progeny:
Serene he fimiles to find, that not in vain
He form'd the rudiments of learning's reign:
Himself he marks in each ingenuous breaft,
With all the founder in the race exprefs'd;
Confcious he fees fair Freedom ftill furvive
In yon bright domes, ill-fated fugitive!
(Glorious, as when the Goddefs pour'd the
Unfully'd on his ancient diadem) beam
Well pleas'd, that at his own Pierian fprings
She refts her weary feet, and plumes her wings;
That here at last the takes her deltin'd stand,
Here deigns to linger ere the leave the land.

BENEATH this stony roof reclin'd,

I footh to peace my penfive mind :
And while to fhade my lowly cave,
Embow ring elms their umbrage wave;
And while the maple dith is mine,
The beechen cup, unftain'd with wine;
I fcorn the gay licentious crowd,
Nor heed the toys that deck the proud.
Within my limits lone and still,
The blackbird pipes in artlefs trill
Faft by my couch, congenial guet,
The wren has wove her moffy neft;
From bufy scenes and brighter kies;
To lurk with innocence, the flies;
Here hopes in fife repofe to dwell,
Nor aught fufpects the fylvan cell.

* Alfred.

§ 63. Monody, written near Stratford upon
Avon.
T. WARTON.

VON, thy rural views, thy paftures wild,
The willows that o'erhang thy twilight edge,
Their boughs entangling with th' embattled
fedge;

Thy brink with watry foliage quaintly fring'd,
Thy furface with reflected verdure ting`d,
Sooth me with many a pentive pleasure mild.
But while I mufe, that here the bard divine
Whofe facred duft yon high arch'd aifles inclofe
Where the tall windows rite in stately rows
Above th' embow'ring fhade,

Here firft, at Fancy's fairy circled shrine,
Of daifies pied his infant off'ring made;
Here playful yet, in ftripling years unripe,
Fram'd of thy reeds a thrill and artless pipe:
Sudden thy beauties, Avon, all are fled,
As at the waving of fome magic wand;
An holy trance my charmed fpirit wings,
And awful fhapes of warriors and of kings
People the bufy mead,

Like fpectres fwarming to the wizard's hall;
And flowly pace,and point with trembling hand
The wounds ill-cover'd by the purple pall.
Before me Pity feeins to fland

A weeping mourner, finote with anguish fore,
To fee Misfortune rend in frantic mood
His robe with regal woes embroider'd o'er.
Pale terror leads the vifionary band,

And fternly fhakes his fceptre, dropping blood.

$64. On the Death of King George the Second T. WARTON.

So pure the vows which claffic duty pays
To ble's another Brunswick's rifing rays!

O Pitt, while honour points thy lib'ral plan,
And o'er the Minifter exalts the Man,
O Pitt, it chofen ftrains have power to steal Ifis congenial greets thy faithful sway,
Thy watchful breaft awhile from Britain's weal; Nor fcorns to bid a statesman grace her lay.
If vot ve verfe, from facred Isis fent,
For 'tis not Hers, by falfe connections drawn
Might hope to charm thy manly mind, intentAt fplendid Slavery's fordid fhrine to fawn;

On patriot plans, which ancient freedom drew,
Awhile with fond attention deign to view
This ample wreath, which all th`affembled Nine
With skill united have confpir'd to twine.
Yes,guide andguardian of thy country's caufe!
Thy confcious heart fhall hail with jul applaufe
The deteous Mufe, whofe hafte officious brings
Her blameless off'ring to the thrine of kings:
Thy tongue, well tutor'd in hiftoric lore,
Can fpeak her office and her ufe of yore:
For fuch the tribute of ingenuous praise
Her harp difpens'd in Grecia's golden days;
Such were the palms, in ifles of old renown,
She culi'd, to deck the guiltless monarch's crown;
When virtuous Pindar told, with Tufcan gore
How fceptred Hiëro stain'd Sicilia's fhore,
Or to mild Theron's raptur'd eye disclos'd
Bright vales, where spirits of the brave repos'd:
Yet till beneath the throne, unbrib'd, the fat
The decen: handmaid, not the flave, of state;
Pleas'd in the radiance of the regal name
To blend the luftre of her country's fame:
For,taught like ours, the dar'd with prudent pride
Obedience from dependance to divide:
Though princes claim'd her tributary lays,
With truth fevere the temper'd partial praife;
Confcious the kept her native dignity,
Bold as her flights, and as her numbers free.
And fure, if e'er the mufe indulg'd her trains,
With just regard to grace heroic reigns,
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own
So dear to fame as George's trophy'd throne?
At whole firm hafe thy itedfaft foul afpires
To wake a mighty nation's ancient fires:
Afpires to baffle Faction's fpecious claim,
Roufe England's rage, and give her thunder aim:
Once morethemainher conqu'ringbannersfweep,
Again her Commerce darkens all the deep.
Thy fix'd refolve renews each firm decree
That made, that kept of yore, thy country free.
Cai'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms,
Its willing youth the rural empire arms:
Again the lords of Albion's cultur'd plains
March the firm leaders of their faithful fwains;
As erft ftout archers, from the farm or fold,
Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold.

Each native effort of the feeling breast
To friends, to foes, in equal fear, fuppreft:
Tis not for her to purchase or purfue
The phantom favours of the cringing crew:
More ufeful toils her ftudious hours engage,
And fairer leffons fill her spotless page:
Beneath ambition, but above disgrace,
With nobler arts the forms the rifing race:
With happier talks, and lefs refin'd pretence,
In elder times, the woo'd Munificence
To rear her arched roofs in regal guife,
And lift her temples nearer to the kies;
Princes and prelates fetch'd the focial hand
To form, diffufe, and fix, her high command:
From kings fhe claim'd, yet scorn'd to feek, the
prize;
[wife.
From kings, like George, benignant, juit, and
Lo, this her genuine lore.-Nor thou refuse
This humble prefent of no partial Mufe
From that calm Bow'r*, which nurs'd thy
thoughtful youth

In the pure precepts of Athenian truth:
Where first the form of British Liberty
Beam'd in full radiance on thy muling eye;
That form, whofe mien fublime, with equal awe,
In the fame fhade unblemish'd Somers faw:
Where once (for well the lov'd the friendly grove
Which ev'ry claffic Grace had learn'd to rove)
Her whifpers wak'd fage Harrington to feign
The bleffings of her vifionary reign;
That reign, which now, no more an empty theme,
Adorns Philofophy's ideal dream,
But crowns at laft, beneath a George's fmile,
In full reality this favour'd ifle.

§65. On the Marriage of the King, MDCCLXI. to her Majefly.

T. WARTON.

WHEN first the kingdom to thy virtues due

Rofe from the billowy deep in diftant view;
When Albion's ifle, old Ocean's peerless pride,
Tow'r'd in imperial ftate above the tide;
What bright ideas of the new domain
Form'd the fair profpect of thy promis'd reign!

And well with confcious joy thy breast might
That Albion was ordain'd thy regal feat: [beat
Lo! this the land, where Freedom's facred rage
Has glow'd untam'd thro' many a martial age.
Here patriot Alfred, ftain'd with Danish blood,
Rear'd on one bafe the king's, the people's good:
Here Henry's archers fram'd the stubborn bow
That laid Alanzon's haughty helmet low;
Here walk'd the flame, that itill fuperior braves
The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitious faves:
Here Chivalry, ftern school of valour old,
Her nobleft feats of knightly fame enroll'd;

Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate, The war of words, the fophiftries of state: Nor frigid caution checks thy free defign, Nor tops thy ftream of eloquence divine: For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd, To feel, to think, to speak, for public good. In vain Corruption calls her venal tribes; One common caufe, one common end prefcribes: Nor fear nor fraud or fpares or fcreens the foe, But fpirit prompts, and valour strikes the blow. Trinity College, Oxford; in which also Lord Somers, and Sir James Harington, author of the Oceana, were educated.

W

MPERIAL Dome of Edward wife and brave!
Where warlike Honour's brightest banners
wave;
[deeds,
At whofe proud tilts, unmatch'd for hardy
Heroic kings have frown'd on barbed steeds;
Though now no more thy crested chiefs advance
In arm'd array, nor grafp the glittring lance;
Though Knighthood boafts the martial pomp