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Written in føring 1743.

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Another spring renews the soldier's toil,

- And finds me vacant in the rural cave. As the soft lyre display'd my wonted Inves,

The pensive pleasure and the tender pain, The fordid Alpheus hurried through my groves ;

Yet ftop'd'to vent the dictates of disdain. He glanc'd contemptuous o'er my ruin'd fold;

He blam'd the graces of my favourite bower, My brcast, unsully'd by the lust of gold;

My time, unlavish'd in pursuit of power.Yes, Alpheus ! fly the purer paths of fate;

Abjure these scenes from venal pallaons free; Know, in this grove, I vowed perpetual hate,

War, endless war, with lucre and with thee. Here nobly zealous, in my youthful hours,

I dreft an altar to Thalia's name: Here, as I crown'd the verdant fhrine with flowers,

Soft on my labours ilole the smiling dame. Damon, she cry'd, if pleas'd with horett praise,

Thou court fuccefs by virtue or by fong, Fly the false dictates of the venal race;

Fly the gross accents of the venaltongue. Swear that no lucre shall thy zeal beiras;

Swerve not thy foot with fortune's votaries

Think not, he cry'd, ye view the miles of safe,

Or this firm breast disclaims a patriot's pain ; I smile, but from a foul estrang'd to peace,

Frantic with grief, delirious with difdain ! But were it cordial, this detested smile,

Seems it less timely than the grief ye thow? O fons of Carthage! grant me to revile

The fordid source of your indecent woe! Why weep you now! ye faw with tearless eye

When your fleet perish'd on the Punic wave; Where rkid the coward tear, the lazy figh,

Wł. Tyre's imperialitate commenc'd a fave? 'Tis på. -O Cartliage! vanquished ! honour'd

fhade, Go, the mean sorrows of thy fons deplore; Had freedom shar'd the vow to fortune paid.

She ne'er, like fortune, had forfook thy shore." He ceased—abalh'd the conscious audience hear;

Their pallid chceks a crin son blush unfold; Yet oe'r that virtuous blush distreams a tear,

And falling moistens their abandon'd gold.

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Brand thou their lives and brand their lifeless day,

The winning phantom urg'd me, and I swore. Forth from the rustic alter swift I ftray'd,

“ Aid my firm purpose, ye celestial powers ! Aid mc to quell the fordid breast, I said; And threw my javelin tow'rds their hostile

towers* Think rot regretful I survey the deed;

Or added years no more the zeal allow; Seill, still observant to the grove 1 speed,

The thrine embellish, and repeat the vow. Sworn from his cradle Rome's relentless foe,

Such generous hace the Punic champion + bore ; Thy lake, o Thrasimene ! beheld it glow,

And Cannæ's walls, and Thebia's crimson Shore. But let grave annals paint the warrior's fanie;

fair fhine his arms in history evroli'd; Whilit humbler lyres his civil worth proclaim,

His nobler hate of avarice and gold.Now Punic pride its final eve survey'd;

its hosts exhausted, and its fleets on fire : Patient the victor's lurid frown obey'd,

And saw th' unwilling elephants retire.
But when their gold deprelo'd the yielding scale,

Their gold in pyramidic plenty pild,
He saw th' unutterable grief prevail;
He saw their tears, and in his sury fmild.
* A Roman ceremony in declaring war.

+ Hannibal.

HY droops this heart, with fancy'd woes

, forlorn Why sinks my soul beneath each wintry sky? What penfive crowds, by ceaseless labours worn,

What myriads wish to be as blest as I ! What though my roofs devoid of pomp arise,

Nor tempt the proud to quit his destined way? Nor costly art my flowery dales disguife,

Where only simple friendship deigns to ftray? See the wild sons of Lapland's chill domain, That scoop their couch beneath the dristed

snows! How void of hope they ken the frozen plain,

Where the sharp east for ever, ever blows !
Save though I be, to Delia's eyes a flave,

My Delia's eyes endear the bands I wcar;
The sigh she caufes well becomes the brave,

The caufes, 'ris ev'n bliss to bear:
See the poor native quit the Libyan fhores,

Ah! not in love's delightful fetters bound! No radiant smile his dying peace reftores; Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship, heals his

Let vacant bards display their boatted woes,

Shall I the mockery of grief difplay?
No, let the Muse his piercing pangs disclafe,

Who bleeds and weeps his sum of life away.
On the wild beach in mournful guile he stood,

Ere the thrill boatswain gave the hated sign;
He dropt a tear unseen into the flood;
He stole one secret moment, to repine.


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And every

Yet the mose liftend to the plaints he made; Or 'mid the rural shepherds, flow my days,

Such moving plaints as nature could inspire ; Amid the rural shepherds, I am free.
To me the Musc his tender play convey'd, To view sleek vassals crowd a stately hall,
But smooth'd, and suited to the founding lyre.

Say, should I grow myself a solemn flave!
" Why am I ravished from my native strand ? To find thy tints, o Titian! grace my wall,

What favage race protects the impious gain? -Forego the flowery fields my fortune gave?
Shall foreign plagues infelt this teeming land, Lord of my time my devious path I hend,
And more than sea-born monsters plough the

Through fringy woodland, or smooth-shaven main ?

Here the dire locusts horrid swarms prevail; Or pensile grove, or airy cliff ascend,
Here the blue asps with livid poison swell; And hail

the scene by nature's pencil drawn. Here the dry dipfa with his sinuous mail;

Thanks be to fate-though nor the racy vine,
Can we no: here secure from envy dwell?

Nor fattening olive cloath the fields I rove,
When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace, Sequester'd shades and guirgling founts are mine,
When the stern panther fought his midnight


the Muses love.

Here if

my vista point the mouldering pile,
What fate reserv'd me for the chriftian race? Where hood and cowl devotion's aspect wore,
O race more polish'a more severe than they!

I trace the tottering reliques with a smile,
Ye prouling wolves, pursue my latest crics! To think the mental bondage is no more !

Thou hungry tiger leave thy reeking den? Pleas'd if the glowing landscape wave with corn:
Ye sandy waltes, in rapid eddies rise!

Or the tall oaks, my country's bulwark, rile;
O tear me from the whips and scorn of men !

Pleasd, if mine cyc, o'er thousand vallies born, Yet in their face superior beauty glows;

Discern the Cambria hills support the skies.
Are (miles the mien of rapine and of wrong? And see Plinlimmon! ev'n the youthful sight
Yet from their lip the voice of mercy flows, Scales the proud hills etherial cliffs with pain !

And ev'n religion dwells upon their tongue. Such Caer-caradoc ! thy ftupendous height,
Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes, Whose ample shade obscures th' lernian main,

Where gentle ninds conveyed by death repair, Bleak, joyless regions ! where, by science fir’d,
But ftain'd with blood and crimínn'd o'er with

Some prying sage his lonely step may bend; crimes,

There, by the love of novel plaints inspir'd,
Say, Mall they merit what they paint so fair?

Invidious view the clambering goats ascend.
No, careless, hopeless of those fertile plains,

Yet for those mountains, clad with lasting snow,
Rich by our toils, and by our sorrows gay, The freeboro Briton left his greenest mead,
They ply our labours, and enhance our pains,

Receding sullen from his mightier foe,
And feign these distant regions to repay.

For here he saw fair liberty recede.
For them our tulky elephant expires;

Then if a chief perform'd a patriot's part,
For them we drain the mine's embowel'd gold;

Suitain'd her drooping fons, repell d her foes,
Where rove the brutal nations wild desires ?

Above all Persian lure, or Attic art,
Our limbs are purchas’d, and our life is sold !

The rude majestic monument arose.
Yet shares there blest shores for us remain,

Progressive ages carollid forth his fame ;
And favoured ifles with golden fruitage crown'd,

Sires, to his praise, attun'd their children's
Where tufted flowrets paint the verdant plain,

Where cvery breeze fall med’cine every | The hoary druid fed the generous flame,

While in such strains the reverend vizard fung.
There the stern tyrant that embitters life

" Go forth, my sons!—for what is vital breathi, Shall, vainly suppliant, spread his asking hand;

Your gods expell’d, your liberty relign'd?
There shall we view the billows raging strife,

Go forth, my sons ! for what is instant death
Aid the kind breast, and wast his boat to land.”

To souls secure perennialjoys to find ?
For scenes there are, unknown to war or pain,
Where drop; the balm that heals a tyrant's


Where Patriots, blest with boundless freedom,


With milletoc's mysterious garlands crowa'd. Toking a view of the country from his retirement, he is led to meditate on the character of the ancient Such are the names that grace your mystic fongs;

Your folemn wooits refound their martial fire; Britons. Written at the time of - rumoured tax *pon luxury, 1746.

To you, my sons, the ritual meed belongs,

If in the cause you vanquilh or expire.
T'HUS Damon fung—What though unknown Hark! from the sacred oak that crowns the

Umbragcous coverts hide my Muse and me ; What a welul voice my raptured bocom warius;



THUS to praise



This is the favour'd moment heaven approves, “ Damon, she said, mine hour allotted flies; Sound the shrill trump: this inftant, found to Oh! do not waste it with a fruitless tear! arms."

Though griev'd to see thy Silvia's pale disguise, Theirs was the science of a martial race,

Suspend thy sorrow, and attentive hear. To shape the lance, or decorate the shield; So may thy Mufe with virtuous flame be blef ! Ev'n the fair virgin ftain'd her native grace, So be thy love with mutual love repaid !

To give new horrors to the tented field. So may thy bones in sacred silence reft, Now, for some cheek where guilty blushes glow, Fast by the reliques of some happier maid !

For some false Florimel's impure disguise, Thou know't how lingering on a distant fhore The lifted youth, nor war's loud signal know, Disease invidious nipt my flowery prime;

Nor virtue's call, nor fame's imperial prize. And oh! what pangs my tender boson tore, Then if soft concord lulld their fears to sleep,

To think I ne'er must view my native clime ! Inert and silent Nept the manly car;

No friend was near to raise my drooping head; But rush'd horrific o'er the fearful steep,

No dear companion wept to see me die; If freedom's awful clarion breath'd to war, Lodge me within my native foil, I said; Now the sleek courtier, indolent, and vain, There my fond parents honoured reliques lio.

Thron’d in the splendid carriage glides supine ; Though now debarr'd of each domestic tear; To taint his virtue with a foreign stain,

Unkkown, forgot, I meet the fatal blow; Or at a favourite's board his faith resign. There many a friend shall grace my woeful bier, Leave them, O luxury! this happy soil !

And many a figh shall rise, and tear fall flow, Chase her, Britannia, to some hostile shore !

I spoke, nor fate forbore his trembling spoil; Or * fieece the baneful pest with annual spoil, Some vernal mourner lent his careless aid; And let thy virtuous offspring weep no more ! And soon they bore me to my native soil,

Where my sond Parents dear rchains were

laid. 'Twas then the youths, from every plain and

grove, E L E G Y XXII.

Adorn'd with mournsul verse thy Silvia's bier;

'Twas then the nymph their votive garlands Written in the year when the rights of fepul.

And strew'd the fragrance of the youthful yease ture were so frequently vielated.

But why, alas ! the tender scene display?

Could Damon's foot the pioas path decline ? gentlc sleep, that lov'st the gloom of Ah no ! 'twas Damon first attun'd his lay, night,

And sure no fonnet was so dear as thine. Parent of dreams ! thou great magician, say, Thus was I bofom'd in the peaceful grave; Whence my late vision thus indures the light; My placid ghost no longer wept its docm; Thus haunts my fancy through the glare of When savage robbers every fancion brave, day.

And with outpageous guilt defraud the tomb ! The filent moon had scal'd the vaulted fkies, Shall my poor corse, from hostile realms come And anxious care resign'd my limbs to rest ;

vey'd, A sudden luftre ftruck my wondering eyes,

Lose the cheap portion of my native sands? And Silvia stood before my couch confett. Or, in my kindred's dear embraces laid, Ah ! not the nymph so blooming and ro gay,

Mourn the wild ravage of barbarian hands? That led the dance beneath the festive shade! Say, would thy brcast no death-like torture fecl, But thc that, in the morning of her day,

To see my limbs the felon's gripe obey? Intomb'd beneath the grass-green fod was laid. To see them gash'd beneath the daring steel? No more her eyes their wonted radiance cast;

To crowds a spectre, and to dogs a prey? No more her brcast inspir'd the lover's Alame, If Pæan's sons these horrid rites require, No more her cheek the Pæstan rose surpast?

If health's fair science be by these refin'd, Yet seem'd her lip's etherial smile the same. Let guilty convicts, for their use, expire ; Nor such her hair as deck'd her living face;

And let their breathless corse avail mankind. Nor such her voice as charn’d the listening Yet hard it seems, when guilt's last fine is paid, crowd;

To see the vidim's corse deny'd repose ! Nor such her dress as heightend every grace; Now, more severe ! the poor offenceless maid

Alas! all vanish'd for the mournful shroud! Dreads the dire outrage of inhuman foes. Yet seem'd her lip's etherial charm the fame; Where is the faith of ancient pagans fled?

1 hat dear distinction every doubt removed; Where the fond çare the wandering menes Perith the lover, whose imperfect flame

claim ? Forgets one feature of the nymph he lor'd. Nature, instinctive, cries, Protect the dead,

And lacred be their alhes, and their same; * Alluces to a tax upon luxury.


SAY, gentle dicep, that lov’lt the gloom of

Bo nown's,

Arise, dear youth ! ev'n now the danger calls; What art! what friendthips! oh! what fanie Ev'n now the villain snuffs his wonted prey;

resign'd! See ! see. I lead thee to yon' sacred walls, -In yonder glade 1 trace his niournsul urn. Oh! fly to chase these human wolves away." Where is the breast can rage or hate retain,

And these glad streams and smiling lawns be

hold! Where is the breast can hear the woodland train,

And think fair freedom well exchang'd for E LEGY XXIII.


Through the soft shades delighted let me stray, Reflections suggested by his situation,

While o'er my head forgotten funs delcend!

Through these dear valleys bend my casual way, ORN near the scene for Kenelm's fate re

Till setting life a total thade-extend ! nown's,

Here far from courts, and void of pompous cares I take my plaintive reed and range the grove,

l'll muse how much I owe mine humbler fate: And raise my lay, and bid the rocks resound

Or shrink to find, how much ambition dares, The savage force of empire, and of love. To shine in anguish, and to grieve in fiate ! Fart by the centre of yon' various wild,

Can'st thou, O sun! that spotless throne disclose, Where fpreading oaks embower a Gothic fane; Where, shew me where, the lineaj sceptre glows,

Where her bold arm has left no fanguine stain? Kendrida's arts a brother's youth beguild; There naturé urg'd her tendereft pleas in vain.

Pure, as the simple crcok that rules the plain?

Treniendons pomp! where hate, distruit, and Soft o'er his birth, and o'er his infant hours,

fear, Th'ambitious maid could every care employ; In kindred bosoms solve the social tie; Then with afliduous fondness cropt the flowers, There not the parent smile is half fincere;

To deck the cradle of the princely boy? Nor void of art the confort's melting eye. But foon the bofom's pleasing calm is flown; There with the friendly wish, the kindly flame,

Love fires her breast; the sultry pallions rise; No face is brighten'd, and no bofoms beat; A favour'd lover seeks the Mercian throne, Youth, manhood, age, avow one for lid aim,

And views her Kenelm with a rival's eyes.. And ev’n the beardless lip assays deceit. How kind were fortune, ah! how juft were fate, There coward rumours walk their murderous Would fate or fortune Mercia's heir remove :

round; How sweet to revel on the couch of state !

The giance, that more than rural blame instills; To crown at once her lover and her love!

Whisper's, that ting'd with friendship doubly

wound, See garnith'd for the chace, the fraudful maid Pity that injures, and concern that kills. To these lone hills direct his devious way;

Their anger whers, but love can ne'er engage; The youth all prone the fifter gride obey'd,

Carelling brothera part but to revile; Ill-fated youth! himself the dettin'd prey. 1 There all men ímile, and prudeace warns the But now, nor shaggy hill, nor pathless plain,

wise, forms the lone refuge or the sylvan game;

To dread the fatal stroke of all that smile. Since Lyttleton has crown'd the sweet domain There all her rivals! filter, son, andõre,

With softer pleasures, and with fairer fame. With horrid pui pofe hug dekructive arms; Where the rough howman urg'd his headlong There loft-ey'd maids in murderous plots consteed,

fpire, Immortal bards, a polish'd race, retire;

And fuorn the gentler mischief of their charms. And where hoarse scream'd the strepent horn, Let ferrile minds one endless watch endure; succeed

Day, night, nor hour, their anxious guard reThe melting graces of no valgar lyre.

sign; See Thompson loitering near some limpid well,

But lay me, fate! on Rowery banks, secure, For Britain's friend the verdant wreath pre

Though my whole foul be, like my limbs, sue pare!

pine. Or, studious of revolving seasons, tell,

Yes, may my tongue disdain a vassal's care; How peerless Lucia made all seasons fair! My lyre resourd no prostituted lay; See **** *, * * from civic garlands fly,

More werm to merit, more elate to wear And in these groves indulge his tuncful vein!

The cap of freedom, than the crown of bay.. Or from yon' summit, with a guardian's eye, Sooth'd by the murmurs of my pebiled flood, Observe how freedom's hand attires the pain!

I with it not o'er golden fards to flow; Here Pope ! ah never nult that towering mied Cheard by the verdure of my spiral wond,

To his lov'd haunts, or dearer friend, return ? I fcorn the quarry, where na Arub can grow. VOL. VII.




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* * conspire,

No midnight pang: the shepherd's peace pursue;

For public haunts, impellid by Britain's weal, His tongue, his hand, attempts no secret

See Grenville quit the Muse's favourite ease; wound;

And shall not swains admire his noble zeal? He fines his Delia, and if she be true,

Admiring praise, admiring strive to please? His love at once, and his ambition's crown'd.

Lise, says the sage, affords no bliss fincere;

And courts and cells in vain our hopes renew :

But ah! where Grenville charms the listening E L E G Y XXIV.

'Tis hard to think the chearless maxim true. He takes occasion, from the fate of ELE- | The groves may smile, the rivers gently glide; ANOR of BRETAGNE, to suggest the

Sost through he vale resound the lonesome lay.

Ev'n thickets yield delight, if taste preside; imperfect pleasures of a solitary life.

But can they please, when Lyttleton s away?
THEN beauty mourns, by fate's injurious Pure as the swain's the breast of *** glows,

Ah! were the shepherd's phrase, like his,
Hid from the chearful glance of human eye ;

refin'd When nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb, But, how improves the generous dictate flows Hard is that heart which checks the risin Through the clear medium" of a polith'd mind. figh.

Happy the youths who, warm with Britain's Fair Eleonora ! would no gallant mind,

love, The cause of love, the cause of juflice own? Her inmost wish in *** period's hear! Matchless thy charms, and was no life resign'd Happy that in the radiant circle move,

To see them fparkle from their native throne? Attendant orbs, where Lonsdale gilds the Or had fair freedom's hand unveil'd thy c' arms

sphere ! Well might such brows the regal gem resign; While rural faith, and every polish'd art," Thy radicnt mien night scorn the guilt of arms; Each friendly charm, in *

Yet Albion's awful empire yield to thine. From public scenes all pensive must you part ;
O shame of Britons! in one sullen tower

All joyless to the greenest fields retire !
She wet with royal tears her daily cell; Go, plaintive youth! no more by fount or
She found keen anguish every rofe devour;

They sprung, they shone, they faded, and Like some lone halcyon, social pleasure shun;
they fell.

Go dare the light, enjoy its chearful beam, Through one dim lattice fring'd with ivy round,

Aud hail the bright procession of the sun.
Successive luns a languid radiance threw ; Then cover'd by thy ripen'd shades, resume
To paint how fierce her angry guardian frown'd, The filent walk; no more by passion test:

To mark how fast her waning beauty flew. Then seek thy rustic haunts; the dreary gloom,
This age mighe bear; then sated fancy palls,

Where every art, that colours life, is lost."-
Nor warmly hopes what fplendour can supply; In vairi! the listening Muse attends in vain !
Fond youth incessant mourns, if rigid walls Restraints in hostile bands her motions wait-
Restrain its listening ear, its curious eye.

Yet will I grieve, and sadden all my strain, ****, the presence is vain !

When injur'd beauty mourns the Muse's fate.
This boasted calm that smooths our early days,
For never yet could youthful mird restrain

Th' alternato pant for p'easure and for praise.
Ev'n me by shady oak or limpid spring,

the fcenes of polish'd lite allure;
Some genius whispers, “ Lif is one the wing,

To Delia, with some flowers ; comind hard his lot that languishes obscure. plaining how much his benevolence What though thy riper mind admire no moremo

suffers on account of his humble forThe fhining cinture, and the broider'd fold, Can pierce like lightning through the figur'd ore,

HATE'ER could sculpture's curious art, And melc to dross the radiant fornis of gold.

Furs, ermins, rods, may well attract thy scorn ; Whate'er the la vith hand of wealth can shower,
he fucile presents of capricious power!

These would I give--and every gift enjoy,
But wit, but worth, the public sphere adorn, That pleas'd my fair-but fate denies the
And who but envies then the social hour?

Can virtue, careless o her pupil's meed,

Bleft were my lot to feed the social fires !,
Forget how *** suitains the shepherd's To learn the latent wishes of a friend !

To give the boon his native taste admires,
Content in slaades to tune a lonely reed,

And, for my transport, on his smile dipend!
Nor join the founding pæan of applause?


Believe me,

Ev'n me,



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