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Pan yields his enzpire o'er the sylvan throng, Isis, inimortal by the Poct's skill,
Picas'd to submit to his superior sorg;

Shall, in the smooth description, murmur ftill I;"?
6:22 Denham's genius louks with rapture down, New beauties shall adorn our sylvan scene,
And Spenter's fhade resigns the rural crown. And in thy numbers grow for ever green.
Fill'd with great thoughts, a thowland Sages Danby's fami'd gist such verse as thine requires,

Exalted raptures, and celestial fires;
Thronyh every field and folitary grove; Apollo here hould plenteously in part,
Whose souls, ascending an exalted hight, As well his finging, as his curing art;
Ou:-foar the drooping Muse's vulgar fight, Nature her fell the healing gardeu loves,
Thue longs to see her darling votasies laid Which kindly her declining strength improves,
Beneath the covert of fomi yeuple thade, Bafiles the stroke of unrelenting death,
Where parling Arcano and warbling birds conspire Can breat his arrows, and can blunt his teeth.
To cid in' enchantment of the trembling lyre. How sweet the landikip! where, a living trees,

Bear me, lome God, to Cirit-Church, royal feat, Here frowns a vegetable Hercules!
And iz; nie softly in the green retreat,

There fam'di chilles learts to live again, Where Aldrich holds o'er Wit the sovereign And looks yet angry in the mic scene; power.

Here arisui birds, with blooming arbours shew, And crowns the Poets which he taught before.

Seem to fly higher, whilft they upwards grow, To idrich Britain owes her tunetui Boyle,

From the line leaves beth arms and warriors rise, The noblest trophy of the conquer'd ile;

And every hough a different charm supplies. Who adds new warmth to our poetic fire,

So when ow. world thegrea: Creator made, And gives to England the Hibernian lyre. And, una iorn'd, the fluggith chaos laid, Philips, by Fhæbus and his Aldrich taught, Horror and Beauty own'd their tiri the same, Sings witil that heat wherewith his Churchill Ard forn: ittelt from Parent Matter canie, fought,

That lumpish ma's al no was source of all, Unfetter'd. in great Miiton's fruin he writes,

And Burds and i homes had one original. like Wilton's angels whilft his hero fighes;

In vain the groves demand my longer stay,
Portues the Bari, whilft he with honour can, The gentle Ifi, watts the Mule away;
Egoals the Poet, and exccls the man.

With ease the river guides hor wandering stream, O'er all the plains, the itreanis, and woodi And haltes to mingle with uxerious Thame, around,

Jitempiing Poets on her banks lie down,
The pleafing lays of sweetest Bards resound; And qualf, in!pir'd, the bitter Helicon,
A faithiul echo every note returns,

Harmonious areams ad »rn their various themes, And listening River-Gods neglect their urns. Sweet as the banks, and flowing as the freams. When Codrington * and Stecie their verfe unrein, Bless'd we, whom bountçous Fortune here has And forin an ealy, unaffected strain,

A double wreathe of laurel binds their brow, And made the various blessings all our own!
As they are poets and are warriors too.

Nor crowns, nor globes, the pageantry of late,
Trapp's lofty scenes in gentle numbers flow, Upon our humble, easy flumbers wait ;
Like Dryden great, as soft as moving Rowe. Nor aught that is Ainbi ion's lofty theme
When youthful Harrison,t with tuneful skill, Disturbs our deep, and guilds the gaudy dream.
Flakes Wooditock Park scarce yield to Cooper's! Touch'd by no ills which vex th' unhappy great,

We only read the changes in the state, Old Chaucer from th' Elysian Fields looks down, Triumphant Mariborough's arms at ditance hear, And sees at length a genius like bis own ; And learn from lame the rough events of war; Charm'd with his lays, which reach the thades be- With pointed rhymes the Gallic tyrant piurce, low

And na c the cannon thunder in our verse Tzir Rosamonda intermits her whe,

See how the matchlessyouththeir hours inprove, Forst in the anguish of an injur'd foul,

Aud in the glorivus way to knowiedge muve !
The fazal poignard, and invenom'd bowl. Eager forfume, prevent the rising fun,

Apollo smiles on Magd'len's peaceful bowers, And watch the midnight labours of the moon,
Perfumes the air, and paints the grot with flowers, Noetender years their bold atte.

pis retrai, Where Yalden learn’d to gain the myrtle crown, Who icave cut time, and hasten into nän, And every Muse was fund of Addison.

Pure to she soul, and pleasing to the eyes, Applauded man! for weightier truit design'd, Like angels youthful, a'id like angcis wise. For once disdain not to unbend thy mind:

Some learn the mighty died of ages gone, Thy mother lsis and her groves rehearse,

Aind, by the lives of her es, furm their own; A subject not unworting of thy verse;

Now viewthe Granique choak dwith heaps of lain, So Latian l’ields will cease to boatt thy praise, Ind warring words on the Pharajan plain; jud yield to Oxford, painted in thy lays : And when the age to come, from envy free, | Letter from Italy, by Mr. Adlifon. T. What thoy to Virgil giv'it thall give to thee,

The Physicgarlen at Oxford. This hint was * The great benefaclor to All-fouls College. N.

happily tai nopin 1713, by Di, Evans. See Sefof whom,fee Sclear Collection,

lect Collection, 1788.


Pierce to the

out-stretched borders of the fifty, 21 na mohad frisk'd in each poetic grove,

the eye.

Now hear the trumpet's clangour from afar, Let your bright eyes their bounteous beamsdiffuse,
And all the dreadful harmony of war;

And no fond Bard shall ask an urclefs Muse;
Now trace thote secret tricks that lost a state, Their kindling rays excite a noble fire,
And search the fine-fpun arts that made it great, Give beauty to the song, and music to the lyre.
Correct those errors i hat is ruin bred,

This charming theme I ever could pursue,
And bid fome long-lost empire rear its ancient And think the inspiration ever new,

Did not the God niy wandering pen restrain,
Others, to whom persuasive arts belong, And bring me to his Oxford back again.
(Words in their looks, and music on their tongue), Oxford, the Goddess Muse's native home,
Instructed by the wit of Greece and Rome, Inspir'd like Athens, and adorn'd like Ronie!
Learn richly to adorn their native home; Hadit thou of old been Learning's fam'd retreat,
Whilft liftening crowds confess the sweet surprize, and Pagan Mules chofe thy lovely seat,
With pleasure in their breasts, and wonder in o, how unbounded had their fidion been!
their eyes.

What fancy'd visions had adorn'd the scene!
Here curious minds the latent feeds disclose, Upon each hill a Sylvan Pan had stood,
And Nature's darkest labyrinths espose; And every thicket boasted af a God;
Whilst greater souls tie diftant worlds desery,

and not a stream without its Nymphs could move; Enlarge the searching mind, and broad cxtend Each summit had the train of. Mufes shew'd,

And Hippocrene in every fountain flow'd; O you, whose riling years so great began, The tales, adoro'd with each poetic grace, In whose bright youth i read the shining nian,

Had look'd almost as charming as the place. O Lonsdale, know what noblest minds approve,

Ev'n now we hear the world with transports own The thoughts they cherish, and the arts they love: Those fi&tions by more wond rous truths ourdone: Let these examples your young bosom fire, Here pure Eusebia keeps her holy leat, And bid your soul to boundless height aspire. And Theinis (miles from Heaven on this retreat; Methinks I see you in our fhades retir'd, Our chaster Graces own refin's decires, Alike admiring, and by all admir'd :

And all our Mules burn with veltal fires;
Your eloquence now charms my ravishid ear, Whilft Guardian-angels our Apollo's land,
Which future fenates fhail transported hear ; Scattering rich favours with a bounteous hand,
Now mournful verse inspires a pleabag woe, To bless the happy air, and sanGily the land.
And now your checks with warlike fury glow, O pleasing shades ! O ever-green retreats!
Whilst on the paper fancy'd fields appear, Ye learned grottos! and ye sacred seats!
And prospects of imaginary war;

Never may you politer arts refuse,
Your martial soul sees Hockstet's fatal piain, But entertain in peace the bashful Muse!
Or fights the fam’d Ramilia o'er again.

So may you be kind heaven's distinguish'd care,
But I in vain these lofty names rehearse, And may your famc be lasting, as 'tis fair !
Above the faint attempts of humble verse, Let greater Bards on fam'd Parnaffus dream,
Which Garth fhould in immortal strains delign, Or taste th’inspir'd Heliconian stream;
Or Addison exalt with warmth divine :

Yet, whilst our Oxford is the bieft abode Ameaner song my tender voice requires, Of every Muse, and every tuneful God, And fainter lays confess the fainter fires,

Parnassus owns its honours far outdone By Nature fitted for an humble theme,

And Ifis boasts more Bards than Helicon. A painted prospect, or a murmuring Itream, A thousand blessings I to Oxford owe, To tune a vulgar note in Echo's praise,

But you, my Lord, th' inspiring Muse below; Whild Echo's felf resounds the fiattering lays; Grac'd with your name th' unpolish'd poeni shines, Or, whilft I tell how Mara's charms surprize, You guard its faults, and consecrate the lines. Paint roses on her cheeks, and suns within her O might you here meet my desiring eyes, eyes.

My drooping song to nobler heights would rise; O, did proportion d height to me belong, Or might I come to breathe your Northern air, Great Anna'sname should grace th'ambitious song Yet should I find an equal pleafure there ; Illustrious dames thould round their Queen resort, Your presence would the harsher climate footh, And Lonsdale's mother crown the fplendid court; Hush every wind, and every mountain smooth; Her noble son should boast no vulyar place, Would bid the groves in springing pomp arife, But share the ancient honours of his race ; And open charming Vilta's to the eyes ; Whilst each fair daughter's face and conquering would make my trifling verse be heard around, eyes

And sportive Echo play the empty found; To Venus only should submit the prize.

With you I should a better Phæbus find, O matchless beauties! more than heavenly fair, Ard own in you alone the charms of Oxford Your looks readless, and divine your air,


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Unable to satisfy the covetous Temper of Neæra, On his falling in love with Nezera.

he intends to make a Campaign, and try, if FARES AREWELL hat liberty our fathers gave, poflible, to forget her. In vain they gave, their sons receiv'd in vain :

DIEU, ye walls, that guarri my cruel fair, 1 faw Neæra, and her instant llave,

No more I'll fit in roly fetters bound, Though born a Briton, hugg'd the servile chain. My limbs have learnt the weight of arms to bear,

My rousing spirits feel the trumpet's found, Her ulage well repays my coward heart, Meadly she triumphs in her lover's shame, Few are the maids that now on merit (mile, No healing joy relieves his constant smart, On spoil and war is bent this iron aye : No smile of love rewards the loss of fame. Yet pain and death attend on war and spoil,

Unsated vengeance and remorseless rage. Oh, that to feel these killing pangs no morc,

To purchase spoil, even love itself is fold, On Scythian hills I lay a senseless stone,

Her lover's heart is lease Ncara's care, Was fix'd a rock amidst the watery roar,

And I through war must leek deteited gold, And in the vast Atlantic stood alone.

Not for myself, but for my venal fair : Adieu, ye Mases, or my passion aid,

That while she bends beneath the weight of dress, Why should I loiter by your idle spring ? The stiffen'd robe may spoil her easy inien; My humble voice would move one only maid, And art mistaken make her beauty less, And the contemas the trifles which I sing. While still it hides fome graces better seen. I do not alk the lofey Epic strain,

But if such toys can win her lovely smile, Nor strive to paint the wonders of the sphere;

Hers be the wealth of Tagus' golden sand, I only fing one cruel maid tu gain,

Hers the bright gems that glow in India's foil, Adieu, ye Mufes, if he will not hear.

Hers the black fons of Afric's sultry land.

To please her eye let every loom contend, Ne more in useless inpocence I'll pine,

For her be rifled Ocean's pearly bed. Since guilty presents win the greedy fair,

But where, alas! would idle fancy tend, I'll tear its honours from the broken fhrine,

And footh with dreams a youthful poet's head? But chiefly thine, O Venus ! will I tear.

Let others buy the cold unloring maid, Deceiv'd by thee, I lov'd a beauteous maid, In forc'd embraces act the tyrant's part, Who beuds on sordid gold her low desires: While I their selfith luxury upbraid, Nor worth nor paslion can her heart persuade, And scorn die person where I doubt the heart. But Love must act what Avarice requires.

Thus warm’d hy pride, I think I love no more, Unwise who first, the charm of nature lost,

And hide in threats the weaknels of my mind; With Tyrian purple soil'd the snowy sheep;

In vain,-though Reason Ay the hated door, Uowiser still who seas and mountains crost,

Yet Love, the coward Love, ftill lags behind,
To dig the rock, and search the pearly deep;
These costly toys our filly fair' surprise,
The hining follies cheat their feeble light,

Their hearts secure in trifles, love despise,
Tis vain to court them, but more vain to write.

He upbraids and threatens the Avarice of Neera,

and resolves to quit her. Why did the gods conceal the little mind, And earthly thoughts beneath a heavenly face; And gollen torrents stream from every part, Forget the worth that dignifics mankind, That craving bosom still would heave for more, Yet smooth and polith to each outward grace? Not all the gods could satisfy thy heart. Hence all the blame that Love and Venus bear, But may thy folly, which can thus disdain Hence pleasure short, and anguish ever long,

My honest love, the mighty wrong repay, Hence tears and fighs, and hence the pee vish fair, May in dnight fire involve thy fordid gaia, The froward lover-hence this angry long.

And on the thining heaps of rapine prey;


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May all the youths, like me, by love deceivid,

Not quench the ruin, but applaud the doom;
And, when thon dy'st, may not one hcart be

The Lover is at first introduced speaking to his griev'd,

Serrant, he afterwarus addresses himicif to his May not one tear bedew the lonely tomb.

Mifress, and at last there is a supposed Inter

vicw between them. But the deserving, tenier, genero116 maid, Whose oniy care is her pour lover's mind,

WITH wine, more wine, deceive thy master's Though ru hlefs are may bid her beauty fade,

car, In cvery friend to love, a friend fall find : Till creeping flunher footh his troubled breast, And, when the lamp of life will burn no more,

Let at a whisper itir the filent air When dead she seems as it a gentle sleon,

if hip-is love a while consent to rest. The pitying neithbour Mall her lofs deplore,

Untoward guards beset mv Cyrthia's doors, And round the bier assembled lovers wecp:

And cruei lochsch' i prison'd fair conceal, With flowery garlands ea h revolving year,

May liyhtnings biust whom love in vain implores, Shall firew the grave where love and softnessrest,

And Jove's own thunder rive those bolts of icel. Then home retiring, drop the pious tear,

Al, gentle door, atrend my humble call,
And bid the turf lie cały on her breast.

Nor let thy founding hinge our thefts_betray,
So all my curies far from thee shall fall,
We anyry lovers mean not half we say.
Remember now the flowery wreaths I gave,
When firit 1 tld thee of my bold deares,

Northou, Olynthi', fiar the watchfullave,

Venus will favout what herself inspires.

She guides the youth who see not where they tread, To his friend, written under the confinedient of the thews the virgin how to turn the door, a long Indifpofition.

Softiy softeal fruni off her filent bed,

And not a flip betray her on the floor.
HILF. calm you sit beneath your facred The fearle's lover wants no beam of light,

The robber !,.ows him, nor obftruéts his way, And lose in pleating thought the summer-day,

Sacred he wan’ers through the pathless night, Or tempt the wish of some unpractis'd maid, Blougs to Venüs, and can never itray. Whose heart at once inclines and fears to liray: Iluon the chil.ing wind and beating rain, The sprightly vigour of my youth is fled,

Nor heed cold wäichings on the dewy ground, Lonely and fick, on death is all my thought, If all the lardil ps I for love luftain, Oh, spare, Perfep-one, this guiltless head, With love's victoriousjoys at lait be crown's : Love, too much love, is all thy luppliant's fault. Withiud ca top let none our blifa furs ize, No virgin's easy faith le'er betray'd,

Or check the freedom of secure delight My tongue ne'er boafed of a frign'd embrace ;

Raih man beware, and thut ihy curious eyes, No poisons in the cup haval convey’d,

Laan ry Venus ínath their guilty fight. Nor veil'd detruction wah a friendly face: But should'st thou tee, th' important fecret hide, a No secret horrors gnaw this quict breast,

Though qucftion'd by the powers of carth an This pious hand ne'ct robb d the sacred fane,

heaven. I ne'er citurb’d the gods' eternal reft

The prating tongue shall love's revenge abide, With curiisicu:i-Out oft have pray'd in vain. Still lue for grace, and never le forgiven. No stealth of tinie has : Sina’d my flowing hair, I wizard-jame, the lovin's a.icient friend,

With magic charm has draftehy busband's car, Nor age yet bent nie with his iron hand:

At her command i saw the stars defiend, Ah! why so soon the tender blossom tear!

And wingid lihtnings itop in mid carcer. Ere autumn yet the ripen’d fruit demand?

I saw her itamp, and cleave the folii ground, Ye gods, whoe'er in gloomy nades below,

While ghalliy feetres round 115 wildly roam; Now slowly tread your melancholy round;

Lliw them la arken to her potent found, Now wandering view the paleful rivers fox,

Mill, far'd at day, they fought their driary home. And muũng hearken to their folemn sound;

cht her command the vigorous summer pines, Oh, let me ftill enjoy th' chearful day,

And wintery clouds obscure the hopeful year; Till, many years unheeded o'er me roli'd, Pleas'd in my aye, I trifle life away,

At her lirong bidding, gloomy winter ihmncs,

And vernal costs on the ľnous appear. And tell how much we lov'd, ere I grew old, But you, who now, with festive garlands crown'd, She gave these charms, whuni on the bestow, Io chace of pleasure the gay moments spend, Thiy dim the eye, and dull the jealous mind, By quick enjoyment heal love's pleasing wound, For me they make a bustand nothing know, And grieve for nothing but your ablent friend. For me, and only me, shes maladin blizid':


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But what did most this faithful heart Surprize, The scorching heats I'd carelessly defpife,
She boasted that her kill could let it free;

Nor heed the blisters on my tender hand;
This faithful heart the boalted freedoin flies; The great Apollo wore the fanie ciluile,
How could it venture to abandon thee?

Like me subdued to love's supreme command.
No healing herbs could footh their mafter's pain,
The art of phyfic loft, and use lefslay,

To Peneus fream, and Tempe’s ihady plaini,

He drove his herds beneath the moon tide ray: He adjures Delia to pity him, by their Friendship | Oft with a blearing lamb in either arm, with Cælia, who was lately dead. His ? luthing Sister saw him pace along;

Ofe would his voice the silent valley charm,
HOUSANDS would seek the lasting peace of | Till lowing oxen broke the tender long.

Where are his triumphs? where his warlike toil ? And in that harbour (hun the storm of care,

Where by his darts the crifted Pithon lain? Officious hope ftill holds the feeting breath, Where are his Delphi? his delightful ille? She teils them till,-To-morrow will be fuit. The God himself is grown a cortige Twain. she tells them, Delia, I shall thee obtain,

0, Ceres! in your golden fields no more, But can I listen to her syren song,

With Harvest's cheurful pomp my fair detain,-Who seven flow months have dragg'diny painful | Think what for loft Proserpina you hore, chain,

And in a mother's anguish icel n'y pain. Solong thy lover, and despis'd so long?

Our wifer fathers left their fields uníown, By all the joys thy dearest Cælia gave,

Their food was acorns, love their sole employ, Lct not her once-lov'd friend unpitied burn;

They met, they lik'd, they staid but till alone, So may her ashes find a peaceful grave,

Ind in each valley snatch'd the honest joy. And feep uninjur'd in their sacred urn.

No wakeful guard, no doors to stop defire, To ter ! first avow'd my timorous flame,

Tirice happy times! But, oh. I !ondly rave, She nurs'd my hopes, and taught me how to sue, | Lead me to Delia, all her

eyes inspire
She still would piry what the wife night blame, Ill do.--I'll plough, or dig as Delia's llave.
And feel for weakntis which she never knew :
Ab, do not grieve the dear lamented fhade,
That hovering round us all my sufferings hears,

She is my Saint,--to her my prayer; are made,
With oft repeated gists of flowers and lears : He despairs that he mali ever porTess Delia.
To her fad tomb at midnight I retire,
dod lonely ficting by the filene lone',

A in vain,

H, what avails thy lover's pious care ? I te!l it all the griefs my wrongs inspire, Nor wealth nor greatness was his idle prayer, The marble image seems to hear my nioan : For thee alone he pray'd, thee hop'd to gain : Thy friend's palc ghost hall vex thy sleepless bed, with thee I hop'd to walle the pleasing day, And stand before thee all in virgin white; Till in thy armsan age oljoy was pat, That ruthless botom will disturb the dead, Thun, old with love, intentiyly decay," And call forth pity from eternal night :

And on thy bosom gently breathe my Jast. Cease, cruel man, the mournful theme forbear, I scorn the Lydian river's golden wave, Though much thou suffea, to thyself complain : And all the vulgar charms of human life, Ah, to rccal the sad remembrance (pare,

I only ask to live my Delia's lavé,
One tear from her, is more than all my pain. And, when I long have serv'd her, call her wife :

I only ask, of her I love poffent,
To fink, o'ercome with blits, in fase repose,

To strain her yielding beauties to my breait,

And lils her wearico eye-lids till they close.
On Delia's being in the Country, where he sup- Airend, gay Venus, parent of delire;

Attend, O Juno! with thy sober car, poses the Itays to see the Harveft.

This one fond with, if you refule to hear,

Oh, let me with this ligh of love expire. Now Delia breathes in woods the fragrant air,

, Venas herself attends on Delia there,

And Cupid Sports amid the fylvan train.

He has lost Delia.
Oh, with what joy, my Delia to behold,
I'd press the spade, or wield the mighty prong,


And rob a lover of his weeping fair, mold,

Hard was the man, but harder, in my mind, And patient goad the loitering ox along:

The lover still, who died not of despair : Vol. V.



Guide the now plough-fhare thro the unborn Hwho could firft ewo gentle hearts unbind,

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