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

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

Suspend thy sorrow, and attentive hear. To shape the lance, or decorate the thield; So may thy Muse with virtuous flame be bleft! 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'st how lingering on a distant fora 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 bosom tore, Then if soft concord lull’d their fears to sleep, To think I ne'er must view my native clime ! Inert and filent llept 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 lie.

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 foil !

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

I spoke, nor fate forbore his trenibling 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 fond Parents dear remains were

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

grove, E L E G Y XXII.

Adorn'd with mournsul verfe thy Silvia's bier; 'Twas then the nymph their votive garlands

wove, Written in the year, when the rights of fepul And strew'd the fragrance of the youthful yeast ture were so frequently vielated.

But why, alas ! the tender scene display?

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

And fure no fonnet was to 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 doom; Thus haunts my fancy through the glare of When savage robbers every fan lion brave, day.

And with outpageous guilt defraud the tomb ! The filent moon had scal'd the vaulted skies,

Shall my poor corse, from hostile realms cono Andanxious care resign'd ny limbs to rest ;

vey'd, A sudden lustre 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 so gay,

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

To see my limbs the felon's gripe obey? Intomb’d beneath the grass-green sod 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 breast inspir'd the lover's fame, If Pæan's fons these horrid rites require, No more her cheek the Pästan 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 charnı’d the listening Yet hard it seems, when guilt's last fine is paid, crowd;

To see the viâim's corle deny'd reposo ! Nor such her dress as heighten'd every grace; Now, more severe ! the poor offenceléfs 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 same; 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 fame

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

And iacred be their ashes, and their fame; * Alluces to a tax upon luxury.


Bo nown'd

Irise, dear youth ! ev'n now the danger calls; What art! what friendihips ! oh! what fame 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 mournful urn. Oh! fly to chase these human wolves away." Where is the breast can rage or hate retain,

And these glad Atreams and smiling lawns be

hold? Where is the breast can hcar the woodland Itrain,

And thivk fair freedom well exchang'd for EL EGY XXIII.


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

While o'er my head forgotten suns descend!

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

Till setting life a total shade-extend ! ,

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 jay, 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 state !

Can'st thou, O sun! that spotless throne disclose, Fast by the centre of yon’ various wild, Where spreading oaks embower a Gothic fane; Where, shew me where, the lineal sceptre glows,

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

Pure, as the simple crook that rules the plain?

Tremendous pomp! where hate, disfruit, 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 asliduous fondness cropt the flowers, There not the parent smile is half fincere;

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

Love fires her breast; the sultry paflions rise; No face is brighten'd, and no bofoms beat; A favour'd lover seeks the Mercian throne, Youth, manhood, age, avow one fordid aim, And views her Kenelm with a rival's cyes.,

And ev’n the rdless 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 glance, 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 garnish'd for the chace, the fraudful maid Pity that injures, and concern that kills.

To these lone hills direct his devious way; Their anger whety, but love can ne'er engage; The youth all prone the fifter gride obey'd, Carefling brothers part but to revile ;

Ill-fated youth! himself the destin'd prey. 1 There all men ímile, and prudence warns the But now, nor shaggy hill, nor pathless plain,

wife, l'orms the lone refuge o 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, andûre,

With fofter pleasures, and with fairer fame. With horrid purpose hng detructive arms; Where the rough howman urg'd his headlong Theré foft-ey'd maius in murderous plots consteed,

1pire, Immortal bards, a polish'd race, retire;

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

Day, night, nor hour, their anxious guard reThe melting graces of no vulgar lyrc.

fign; See Thompson loitering near fome limpid well,

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

Though my whole foul be, like my limbs, fue parc !

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 rifound no prostituted lay; Sce * * * * *.* * 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' sumnit, with a guardian's eye, Sooth'd by the murmurs of my pebaled flood, Observe how freedom's hand attires the plain!

I with it not o'er golden sands to flow; Here Pope ! ah never must that towering mied Chear'd by the verdure of my spiral wood,

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


No midnight panga 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 finęs his Delia, and if the be true,

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

Life, says the fage, affords no bliss sincere;

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 ELL- | The groves may smile, the rivers gently glide;

Solt through the vale resound the lonesome lay. ANOR of BRETAGNF, to suggest the

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

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

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 rising Through the clear mediuni' of a polish'd mind. figh.

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

love, The cause of love, the cause of justice own? Her inmost with 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 ci arms sphere!

Well might such brows the regal gem resign; While rural faith, and every polish'd art, Thy radient mien night fcorn the guilt of arms; Each friendly charm, in *** conspire,

Yet Albion's awsul 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 recire! She wet with royai tears her daily cell; Go, plaintive youth! no more by fount or She found keen anguish every rose devour;

stream, They sprung, they shone, they faded, and Likc 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 rad-ance 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 might bear; then sated fancy palls,

Where every art, that colours life, is lett.”Nor warmly hopes what fplendour can supply; In vain! the listening Mufe attends in vain ! Fond youth incessant mourns, if rigid walls Restraints in hostile bands her motions waitRestrain its listening car, 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’ alternate pant for p'easure and for praise.
Ev'n me by shady oak or limpid spring,

Ev'n me, 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 ciper mind admire no morem

fuffers on account of his humble forThe fhining cinture, and the bro der'd fold, tune. Can pierce like lightning through the figur'd ore, And melt tu dross the radiant fornis of gold.

HATE'ER could sculpture's curious art, W

employ, Furs, ermins, rods, may well attract thy (corn ; Whatc'er the lavith hand of wealth can fhower, he fucile presents of capricious power!

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

power. Can virtue, careless o her pupil's meed,

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

ro give the boon his native taste adrnires, Content in shades to tune a lonely reed,

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

Believe me,


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share ;

Bleft too is he, whofe evening ranble strays, Thy chearful meads reprove that fwelling ligh

Where droop the fons of indi: ence and care ! Spring ne'er enam-l'd fairer meads than thinc. His little gifts their gladden'd eyes amaz", Art thou not lodg'd in fortune's warm embrace? And win, at small expence, their fondest Wert thou not form'd by nature's partial care prayer!

Blest in thy song, and bleft in every grace And oh the joy i to shun the conscious light, That wins the friend, or that enchants the To spare the modish blush; to give unfeen !

fair? Like íhuwers that fall behind the veil of night,

Damon, said he, thy partial praise restrain ; Yet decply tinge the smiling vales with green. Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore; But happiest they, who drooping realms relievel Alas ! his very praise awakes my pain,

Whofe virtue cultur'd in our vales appear ! And my poor wounded bosom bleeds the niore. For whose fad fate a thousand shepherd's grieve,

For oh/ that nature on my birth had frown'd, And fading fields allow the grief sincere.

Or fortune fix'd me to fome lowly cell : To call lost worth from its oppreflive shade; Then had my bofom 'scap'd this fatal wound, To fix its equal sphere, and see it shine ;

Nor had I hid these vernal sweets, farewel. To hear it grateful own the generous aid; But led by fortune's hand, her darling child, This, this is transport-but must ne'er be mine.

My youth her vain licentious bliss admir'd; Faint is my bounded bliss; nor I refuse

In fortune's train the syren flattery (mild, To sange where daizies open, rivers roll; And rafhly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd. Wh le prose or song he languid hours amuse,

Of folly studiour, ev'n of vices vain, And sooth the fond impatience of my soul.

Ah vices ! gilded by the rich and gay! A while I'll weave the roofs of Jasmine bowers, I chas'd the guileless daughters of the plain, And urge with trivial carcs the loitering Nor dropt the chase, till Jessy was niy prey. year ;

Poor artless maid ! to Itain thy spotless name, A while I'll prune my grove, protect my flow

Expence, and art, and coil, united strove;

To lure a breast that felt the puieft fanie, Then, unlamented, press an early bier!

Sustain'd by virtue, but betray'd by love. of those lov'd flowers the lifeless corse may School'd in the science of love's mazy wiles,

I cloathid each feature with affected scorn; Some hireling hand a fading wreath bestow :

I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickie (miles, The rest will breathe as sweet, will glow as

And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn, fair, As when their master smil'd to see them glow. Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care,

Warm co deny, and zealous to disprove; The sequent morn shall wake the fylvan quire ;

I bade my words the wonted softness wear, The kid again shall wanton ere 'tis noon;

And seiz'd the minute of returning love. Nature will smile, will wear her best attire; To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest? 0! let not gentle Delia (mile so soon!

Will yet thy love a candid ear incline! While the rude hearse conveys mie flow away,

Aflur'd that virtue, by misfortune prest, And careless cyes my vulgar fate proclaim,

Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. Let thy kind tear my utmost worth o'erpay;

Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame; And, softly fighing, vindicate

Ere-while to flaunt it in the face of day; fame. my

When, scorn'd of virtue, ftigmatiz'd by fame, O Delia ! chear'd by thy superior praise,

Low at my feet desponding Jessy lay.
I bless the filent path the fates decree;
Pleas'd, from the list of my inglorious days,

6 Henry, she said, by thy dear form subdued, To raise the moments crown d with bliss and See the sad reliques of a nymph undone ! thce.

I find, I find this rising fob renew'd :

I sigh in fhades, and ficken at the sun.
Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry,
When will the morn's once pleasing scenes re-


Yet what can morn's rcturning ray supply,

But foes that triumph, or but friends that mourn! Describing the forrow of an ingenuous Alas! no more that joyous morn appears mind, on the melancholy event of a li- That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame;

For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, ccntious amour.

And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with

shame. WHY THY mourns my friend.! why weeps his downcast eye!

The vocal birds that raise their matin strain,

The fportive lambs, increase my penîve moan; That eye where mirth, where fancy used to fine?


All All seem to chafe me from the chearful plain,

And talk of truth and innocence alone.
Is through the garden's flowery tribes ļ stray,
Where bloom the Jasmines that could once

Hope not to find light in us, they say,

For we are spotless, Jelly; we are pure.
Ye flowers that well reproach a nymph so frail;

Say, could ye with my virgin fame compare ?
The brightest bed that scents the vernal gale

Was not so fragant, and was not so fair. Now the grave old alarm the gentler young;

And all ny fame's abhorr'd contagion flee; Trenibles each lip, aud faulters every tongue,

That bids the morn propitious smile on me. Thus for your takes thun each human eye;

I bid the fecu" Blooming youth adieu ; To die I languilh, but I dread to die.

Left ny fad fate Mould nourish pangs for you. Raise me from earth; the pains of want remove

And let me filent seek fome friendly shore; There only, banilh'd from the form I love,

My weeping virtue shall relapse no more. Be but my friend; I ask no dearer name;

Be such the meed of some more artful fair; Nor could it heal my peace, or chase my shame,

That pity gave, what love refus’d to share.

Force not my tongue to ask its scanty bread;

Nor huri thy Jefly to the vulgar crew :
Not fuch the parent's board at which I Ted !

Not such the precept from his lips I drew!
Haply, when age has silver'd o'er my hair,

Malice may learn to scorn fo mean a spoil ;
Envy may Night a face no longer sair ;

And pity, welcome, to my native soil.”
She spoke--nor was I born of favage race;

Nor could these hands a niggard boon affigu ;
Grateful she clasp'd me in a last embrace,
And vow'd to waste her life in prayers for

I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend;

I saw her breast with every passion heave;
I left her-torn from every earthly friend
Oh! my hard bosom, which could bear to

Brief let me be; the fatal storm arose;

The billows rag'd, the pilot's art was vain ;
O'er the tall mast the circling surges close;

My Jeffy-floats upon the watery plain!
And see my youth's impetuous fires decay;

Seek not to stop reflection's bitter tear;
But warn the frolic, and instruct the gay,

From Jeffy floating on her watery bier !



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He sees his flock-no more in cireles feed ;

Haply beneath your ravage blece,
An ODE to the late Duchess of Somer- And with no random Curses load the deed.
set, written 1750.

Nor yet, yę swains, conclude
That nature smiles for you

alone ;

Your hounded fouls, and your conceptions crude, HILE orient skies restore the day,

The proud, the selfish boast disown:

ray ; Yours be the produce 'of the soil : Amid the fprightly scenes of morn,

O may it still reward your toil!
Will aught the Muse inspire !

Norever the defenceless train
Oh ! Peace to yonder clamorous horn

Of clinging infants ask support in vain? "That drowns the sacred lyre!

But though the various harvest gild your plains, Ye rural thanes that o'er the nvofly down

Does the mere landscape feast your eye?
Some panting, timorous hare pursue ;

Or the warm hope of distant gains
Does nature mean your joys alone to crown? Far other cause of glee supply?
Say, does the smooth her lawns for you?

Is not the red streak's future juice For you does echo bid the rocks reply,

The source of your delight profound, A nd urg'd by rude constraint resound the jovia!

Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse,

Purpling a whole horizon round? See from the neighbouring hill, forlorn

Athirit ye praise the limpid fream, 'tis true The wretched (wain your sport survey ;

But though, the pebbled shores among,
He finds his faithful fences torn,

It mimic no unpleasing song,
He finds his labour'd crops a prey ;

The limpid fountain murmurs not for you.



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