Of wanton vaffals, fpoil'd his faithful realm,
Battling in foreign fields, collecting wide
A laurel harvest for a pillag'd land.

Oh dear-bought trophies! when a prince deferts

His drooping realm, to pluck the barren fprays!
When faithlefs John ufurp'd the fully'd crown,
What ample tyranny! the groaning land
Deem'd earth, deem'd heaven its foe! fix tedious
years

Our helpless fathers in defpair obey'd
The papal interdict; and who obey'd,
The fovereign plunder'd. O inglorious days!
When the French tyrant, by the futile grant
Of papal refcript, claim'd Britannia's throne,
And durft invade; be fuch inglorious days
Or hence forgot, or not recall'd in vain!

Scarce had the tortur'd ear dejected heard
Rome's loud anathema, but heartless, dead
To every purpose, men nor wifh'd to live,
Nor dar'd to die. The poor laborious hind
Heard the dire curfe, and from his trembling

hand

Fell the neglected crook that rul'd the plain.
Thence journeying home, in every cloud he fees
A vengeful angel, in whofe waving fcroll
He reads damnation; fees its fable train
Of grim attendants, pencil'd by despair!

The weary pilgrim from remoter climes

By painful steps arriv'd; his home, his friends,
His offspring left, to lavish on the shrine
Of fome far-honour'd faint his coftly ftores,
Inverts his footstep; fickens at the fight
Of the barr'd fane, and filent sheds his tear.
The wretch whose hope by ftern oppreffion chas'd
From every earthly blifs, ftill as it faw
Triumphant wrong, took wing, and flew to hea-

ven,

And refted there, now mourn'd his refuge loft
And wonted peace. The facred fane was barr'd,
And the lone altar, where the mourners throng'd
To fupplicate remiffion, smok'd no more;
While the green weed luxuriant round uprofe.
Some from the death-bed, whofe delirious faith
Through every ftage of life to Rome's decrees
Qbfequious, humbly hop'd to die in peace,
Now faw the ghaftly king approach, begirt
In tenfold terrors; now expiring heard
The laft loud clarion found, and heaven's decree
With unremitting vengeance bar the skies.
Nor light the grief, by fuperftition weigh'd,
That their difhonour'd corfe, fhut from the verge
Of hallow'd earth, or tutelary fane,
Muft fleep with brutes their vaffals, on the field;
Unneath fome path, in marle unexorcis'd!
No folemn bell extort a neighbour's tear!
No tongue of priest pronounce their foul fecure!
Nor fondest friend affure their peace obtain❜d!

The priest! alas, fo boundlefs was the ill!
He, like the flock he pillaged, pin'd forlorn;
The vivid vermeil fled his fady cheek,
And his big paunch, diftended with the spoils
Of half his flock; emaciate, groan'd beneath
Superior, pride, and mightier luft of power!
'Twas now Rome's fondest friend, whofe meagre
Kand

Told to the midnight lamp his holy beads
With nice precifion, felt the deeper wound
As his gull'd foul rever'd the conclave more.
Whon did the ruin spare? for wealth, for

power,

Birth, honour, virtue, enemy, and friend,
Sunk helpless in the dreary gulph involv'd;
And one capricious curfe envelop'd all!

Were kings fecure? in towering stations born,
In flattery nurs'd, inur'd to fcorn mankind,
Or view diminish'd from their fite fublime;
As when a fhepherd, from the lofty brow
Of fome proud cliff, furveys his leffening flock
In fnowy groups diffufive fcud the vale..

A while the furious menace John return'd,
And breath'd defiance loud. Alas! too foon
Allegiance fickening faw its fovereign yield,
An angry prey to fcruples, not his own.
The loyal foldier girt around with strength,
Who tole from mirth and wine his blooming
years,

And feiz'd the faulchion, refolute to guard
His fovereign's right, impalfy'd at the news,
Finds the firm bias of his foul revers'd
For foul defertion; drops the lifted steel,
And quits fame's noblest harvest, to expire
The death of Monks, of furfeit, and of floth!
At length fatigued with wrongs, the fervile

king Drain'd from his land its fmall remaining stores To buy remiffion. But could these obtain? No! refolute in wrongs the priests obdur'd; Till crawling base to Rome's deputed flave, His fame, his people and his crown, he gave. Mean monarch: flighted, brav'd, abhorr'd be fore!

And now, appeas'd by delegated fway, The wily pontiff fcorns nat to recall His interdictions. Now the facred doors Admit repentant multitudes, prepar'd To buy deceit; admit obfequious tribes Of fatraps! princes! crawling to the fhrine Of fainted villainy! the pompous tomb Dazzling with gems and gold, or in a cloud Of incenfe wreath'd, amidst a drooping land That figh'd for bread! is thus the Indian clove Difplays its verdant leaf, its crimson flower, And fheds its odours; while the flocks around Hungry and faint the barren fands explore In vain! nor plant nor herb endears the foil; Drain'd and exhauft to fwell its thirsty pores And furnish luxury.-Yet in vain Britannia ftrove; and whether artful Rome Carefs'd or curs'd her, fuperftition rag'd And blinded, fetter'd, and defpoil'd the land. At length fome murderous monk, with poifo

nous art

Expell'd the life his brethern robb'd of peace.

Nor yet furceas'd with John's disastrous reign Pontific fury! English wealth exhaust, The fequent reign* beheld the beggar'd Thore Grim with Italian ufurers; prepar'd To lend, for griping unexampled lire, To lend what Rome might pillage uncontrol'd.

For

* Henry III. who cancelled the Magna Charta.

For now with more extenfive havoc rag'd Relentless Gregory, with a thousand arts, And each rapacious, born to drain the world! Nor fhall the Mufe repeat, how oft he blew The croife's trumpet; then for fums of gold Annull'd the vow, and bade the falfe alarm Swell the grofs hoards of Henry, or his own. Nor fhall the tell, how pontiffs dar'd repeal The best of charters! lar'd abfolve the tye Of British kings by legal oath restrain'd. Nor can fhe dwell on argofies of gold From Albion's realm to fervile fhores convey'd, Wrung from her fons, and speeded by her kings! Oh irkfome day! when wicked thrones combine With papal craft, to gull their native land!

Such was our fate, while Rome's director taught Of fubjects, born to be their monarch's prey, To toil for monks, for gluttony to toil For vacant gluttony; extortion, fraud, For avarice, envy, pride, revenge, and shame! O doctrine breath'd from Stygian caves! exhal'd From inmoft Erebus!-Such Henry's reign! Urging his loyal realm's reluctant hand

To wield the peaceful fword, by John ere while Forc'd from his fcabbard; and with burnish'd lance

Effay the favage cure, domeftic war!

And now fome nobler fpirits chas'd the mift Of general darkrefs. Grofted* now adorned The mitred wreath he wore, with reafon's fword Staggering delufion's frauds; at length beneath Rome's interdict expiring calm, refign'd No vulgar foul, that dar'd to heaven appeal! But ah this fertile glebe, this fair domain, Had well nigh ceded, to the flothful hands Of monks libidinous; ere Edward's care The lavish hand of death-bed fear reftrain'd. Yet was he clear of fuperftition's taint? He too, mifdeemful of his wholesome law, Ev'n he, expiring, gave his treafur'd gold To fatten monks on Salem's diftant foil!

Yes, the third Edward's breaft, to papal fway So little prone, and fierce in honour's caufe, Could fuperftition quell! before the towers Of haggard Paris, at the thunder's voice He drops the fword, and figns ignoble peace! But fill the night by Romish art diffus'd Collects her clouds, and with flow peace recedes, When by foft Bourdeau's braver queen approv'd, Bold Wickliff rofe: and while the bigot power Amidst her native darkness fkuik'd fecure, The demon vanifh'd as he spread the day. So from his bofom Cacus breath'd of old The pitchy cloud, and in a night of smoke Secure a while his recreant life sustain'd; Till fam'd Alcides, o'er his fubtleft wiles Victorious, chear'd the ravag'd nations round. Hail honour'd Wickliff! enterprizing fage! An Epicurus in the caufe of truth! For 'tis not radiant funs, the jovial hours Of youthful fpring, an æther all ferene, Nor all the verdure of Campania's vales,

3

Can chafe religious gloom! 'Tis reafon, thought, The light, the radiance that pervades the foul, *Bishop of Lincoln, called Mallaus Romanorum.

And sheds its beams on heav'ns mysterious sway!
As yet this light but glimmer'd, and again
Error prevail'd; while kings by force uprais'd
Let loofe the rage of bigots on their foes,
And feek affection by the dreadful boon
Of licens'd murder. Ev'n the kindeft prince,
The most extended breast, the royal Hal!
All unrelenting heard the Lollards cry
Burft from the centre of remorfelefe flames;;
Their fhrieks endur'd! Oh ftain to martial praife!
When Cobham, generous as the noble peer
That wears his honours, pay'd the fatal price
Of virtue blooming ere the ftorms were laid!

'Twas thus, alternate, truth's precarious flame
Decay'd or flourish'd. With malignant eye
The pontiff faw Britannia's golden fleece,
Once all his own, inveft his worthier fons!
Her verdant valleys, and her fertile plains,
Yellow with grain, abjure his hateful sway!
Effay'd his utmost art, and inly own'd
No labours bore proportion to the prize.

So when the tempter view'd, with envious eye The firft fair pattern of the female frame, All nature's beauties in one form display'd, And centering there, in wild amaze he stood; Then only envying heaven's creative hand : Wish'd to his gloomy reign his envious arts Might win this prize, and doubled every fnare.

And vain were reafon, courage, learning, all,
Till power accede: till Tudor's wild caprice
Smile on their caufe; Tudor, whofe tyrant reign
With mental freedom crown'd the beft of kings
Might envious view, and ill prefer their own!
Then Wolfey rofe, by nature form'd to feek
Ambition's trophies, by addrefs to win,
By temper to enjoy-whofe humbler birth
Taught the gay fcenes of pomp to dazzle more.
Then from its towering height with horrid
found

Rufh'd the proud abbey. Then the vaulted roofs,
Torn from their walls, difclos'd the wanton fcene
Of monkish chastity! Each angry friar
Crawl d from his bedded ftrumpet! muttering low
An ineffectual curfe. The pervious nooks
That, ages palt, convey'd the guileful priest
To play fome image on the gaping crowd,
Imbibe the novel day-light; and expofe
Obvious the fraudful enginery of Rome.
As though this opening earth to nether realms
Should fiafli meridian day, the hooded race
Shudder abash d to find their cheats difplay'd :
And, confcious of their guilt, and pleas'd to wave
Its fearful meed, refign'd their fair domain.

Nor yet fupine, nor void of rage, retir'd The pett gigantic; whofe revengeful stroke ing'd the red annals of Maria's reign. When from the tendereft breaft cach wayward prieft

Could banish mercy and implant a fiend!'
When cruelty the funeral pyre uprcar'd,
And bound religion there, and fir'd the base!
When the fame blaze, which on each tortur'd
limb

Fed with luxuriant rage, in every face

Triumphant

Triumphant faith appear'd, and finiling hope.
O bleft Eliza! from thy piercing beam
Forth flew this hated fiend, the child of Rome;
Driven to the verge of Albion, linger'd there,
Then with her James receding, caft behind
One angry frown, and fought more fervile climes.
Henceforth they ply'd the long-continued tafk
Of righteous havock, covering diftant fields
With the wrought remnants of the fhatter'd pile.
While through the land the mufing pilgrimi fees
A tract of brighter green, and in the midt
Appears a mouldering wall, with ivy crown'd;'
Or Gothic turret, pride of ancient days!
Now but of ufe to grace a rural feene;
To bound our viftas, and to glad the fons
Of George's reign, referv'd for fairer times!

LOVE and HONOUR.

"Sed neque Medorum fylvæ, ditiffima terra Nec pulcher Ganges, aique auro turbidus Fæ

mus,

"Laudibus Angligenûm certent: non Bactra, nec Indi,

"Totaque thuriferis Panchaia pinguis arenis,"

L

ET the green olive glad Hefperian fhores; Her tawny citron and her orange-groves, Thcfe let Iberia boaft ; but if in vain, To win the ftranger plant's diffufive fmile, 'The Briton labours, yet our native minds,, Our conftant bofoms, thefe, the dazzled world May view with envy; thefe, Iberian dames Survey with fixt efteem and fond defire.

Haplefs Elvira ! thy difaftrous fate May well this truth explain; nor ill adorn The British lyre: then chiefly, if the Mufe, Nor vain, nor partial, from the fimple guife Of antient record catch the penfive lay; And in lefs groveling accents give to fame. Elvira ! lovelieft maid ! th Iberian realm Could boaft no purer breaft, no fprightlier mind, No race more fplendent, and no form fo fair. Such was the chance of war, this peerle's maid In life's l xuriart bloom, carich'd the fpoil Of British victors, victory's nobleft pride! She, fhe alone, amid the wailful train of captive maids, aflign'd to Henry's care ; Lord of her life, her fortune, and her fame; He, generous youth, with no penurious hand, The tedious moments that unjoyous roli Where freedom's chearful radiance fhines no more, flay'd to foften; confcious of the pang That beauty feels, to waste its fleeting hours In fome dim fort, by foreign rule restrain'd, Far from the haunts of men, or eye of day! Sometimes, to cheat her bofom of its cares, Her kind protector number'd o'er the toils Himfelf had worn : the frowns of angry feas, Or hoftile rage, or faithlefs friend, more fell Than form or foe; if haply the might find Her cares diminish'd; fruitiefs fond offay! Now to her lovely hand, with modeft awe

The tender lute he gave: fhe not averfe
Nor deftitute of fkill, with willing hand
Call'd forth angelic trains; the facred debt
Of gratitude, fhe faid; whose just commands
Still might her hand with equal pride obey!

Nor to the melting founds the nymph refus'd
Her vocal art harmonious, as the train
Of fome impiiton'd lark, who, daily chear'd
By guardian cares, repays them with a fong,
Nor droops, nor deems fweet liberty refign'd.

The fong, not artlefs, had fhe fram'd to paint Difaftrous paffion; how, by tyrant laws Of idiot cuftom fway'd, fome foft-ey'd fair Lov'd only one: nor dar'd that love reveal! How the foft anguish banish'd from her cheek The damafk rofe full-blown; a fever camie; And from her bofom forc'd the plaintive tale. Then, fwift as light, he fought the love-lorri

Around a vacant warrior caft the wreath. "Twas paint, 'twas life ! and fure to piercing eyes The warriors's face depictur'd Henry's mien.

Now had the generous chief with joy perus'd The royal feroll, which to their native home Their ancient rights, uninjur'd, unredcem'd, Reftor'd the captives. Forth with rapid hafte To glad his fair Elvira's ear, he sprung; Fir'd by the blifs he panted to convey; But fir'd in vain ah! what was his amaze, His fond diftrefs, when o'er her pallid face Dejection reign'd, and from her lifeless hand Down dropt the myrtle's fair unfinish'd flower! Speechlefs the flood; at length with accents faint, "Well may my native fhore, fhe faid, refound Thy monarch's praise; and ere Elvira prove "Of thine forgetful flowers fhall cease to feel "The foftering breeze, and nature change her laws."

The fleet careen'd, the wind propitious fill'd The fwelling fails, the glittering transports wav'd Their pennants gay, and halcyon's azure wing With flight aufpicious skimm'd the placid main, On her lone couch in tears Elvira lay, And chid th' officious wind, the tempting sea, And with'd a ftorm as merciless, as tore Her labouring bofom. Fondly now fhe ftrove To banish paffion; now the vaffal days, The captive moments, that fo fmoothly past By many an art recall'd; now from her lute With trembling fingers call'd the favourite founds Which Henry deign'd to praife and now effay'd With mimic chains of filken fillets wove To paint her captive ftate; if any fraud Might to her love the fcenes prolong, And with the dear idea feaft the foal.

But now the chief returned prepared to launch On ocean's willing breaft, and bid adieu To his fair prifoner. She, foon as she heard His hated errand, now no more conceal'd The raging flame; but, with a spreading blufh And rifing figh, the latent pang difclos'd.

"Yes, generous youth! I see thy bofom glow
With virtuous tranfport, that the task is thine
To folve my chains; and to my weeping friends,
And every longing relative, restore

A foft-ey'd maid, a mild offenceless prey!
But know, my foldier, never youthful mind,
Torn from the lavish joys of wild expence
By him he loath'd, and in a dungeon bound
To languifh out his bloom, could catch the pains
This ill-ftar'd freedom gives my tortur'd mind.

What call I freedom? is it that these limbs,
From rigid bolts fecure, may wander far
From him I love? Alas! ere I may boast
That facred bleffing, fome fuperior power
To mortal kings, to fublunary thrones,
Muft loose my paffion, muft unchain my foul.
Ev'n that I loath; all liberty I loath!
But moft the joyless privilege to gaze
With cold indifference, where defert is love.
True, I was born an alien to thofe eyes
I ask alone to please; my fortune's crime!
And ah! this flatter'd form by drefs endear'd
To Spanish eyes, by drefs may thine offend,
Whilft I, ill-fated maid! ordain'd to ftrive
With custom's load, beneath its weight expire.
Yet Henry's beauties knew in foreign garb
To vanquish me; his form, howe'er difguis'd,
To me were fatal! no fantastic robe
That e'er caprice invented, custom wore,
Or folly fmil'd on, could eclipfe thy charms.
Perhaps by birth decreed, by fortune plac'd
Thy country's foe, Elvira's warmeft plea
Seems but the fubtler accent fraud infpires;
My tendereft glances, but the fpecious flowers
That shade the viper while fhe plots her wound.
And can the trembling candidate of love
Awake thy fears? and can a female breast
By ties of grateful duty bound, enfnare?
Is there no brighter mien, no fofter smile
For love to wear, to dark deceit unknown?
Heaven search my foul, and if through all its cells
Lurk the pernicious drop of peifonous guile,

Full on my 'fenceless head its phial'd wrath May fate exhauft; and for my happiest hour Exalt the vengeance I prepare for thee!

Ah me! nor Henry's, nor his country's foe, On thee I gaz'd, and reafon foon difpell'd Dim error's gloom, and to thy favour'd ifle Affign'd its total, merit, unrestrain'd. Oh! lovely region to the candid eye! 'Twas there my fancy faw the Virtues dwell, The Loves, the Graces play; and bleft the foil That nurtur'd thee! for fure the Virtues form'd

Thy generous breaft; the Loves, the Graces, plann'd

:

Thy fhapely limbs. Relation, birth, effay'd
Their partial power in vain again I gaz'd,
And Albion's ifle appear'd, amidst a tract
Of favage waftes, the darling of the fkies!
And thou by nature form'd, by fate affign'd,
To paint the genius of thy native fhore.

'Tis true, with flowers, with many a dazzling fcene

Of burnish'd plants, to lure a female eye,
Iberia glows: but ah! the genial fun,
That gilds the lemon's fruit, or scents the flower,
On Spanish minds, a nation's nobler boast!
Beams forth ungentle influences. There
Sits jealoufy enthron'd, and at each ray
Exultant lights his flow confuming fires.
Not fuch thy charming region; long before
My Tweet experience taught nie to decide
Of English worth, the found had pleas'd mine

ear.

Is there that favage coaft, that rude fojourn,
Stranger to British worth? the worth which forms
The kindest friends; the most tremendous foes;
First, beft fupports of liberty and love!
No, let fubjected India, while the throws
O'er Spanish deeds the veil, your praise refound.
Long as I heard, or ere in flory read
Of English fame, my bias'd partial breast
With'd them fuccefs, and, happicft fhe, I cry'd,
Of woman happieft fhe, who thares the love,
1 he fame, the virtues, of an English lord!
And now what fhall I fay? bleft be the hour
Your fair-built veffels touch'd th' Iberian fhore;
Bleft did I fay the time? if I may bless
That lov'd event, let Henry's files declare.
Our hearts and cities won, will Henry's youth
Forego its nobler conqueft? will he flight
The foft endearments of the lovelier spoil?
And yet Iberia's fons, with every vow

Of lafting faith, have fworn thefe humble charms
Were not excell'd; the fource of all their pains,
And love her juft defert, who fues for love;
But fues to thee, while natives figh in vain.

Perhaps in Henry's eye (for vulgar minds
Diffent from his) it fpreads an hateful stain
On honeft fame, amid his train to bear
A female friend. Then learn, my gentle youth!
Not love himself,, with all the pointed pains
That ftore his quiver, thall feduce my foul
From honour's laws. Elvira once deny'd
A confort's name, more fwift than lightning flies,
When elements difcordant vex the sky,
Shall blufhing from the form the loves retire.

Yet

Yet if the fpecious with, the vulgar voice
Has titled prudence, fways a foul like thine,
In gems or gold, what proud Iberian dame
Eclipfes me? Nor paint the dreary storms
Or hair-breadth 'fcapes that haunt the boundless
deep,

And force from tender eyes the filent tear;
When memory to the penfive maid fuggests,
In full contraft, the fafe domeftic fcene
For thefe refign'd. Beyond the frantic rage
Of conquering heroes brave, the female mind,
When fleel'd by love, in love's molt horrid way
Beholds not danger, or beholding fcorns.
Heaven take my life, but let it crown my love."
She ceas'd, and cre his words her fate decreed,
Impatient watch'd the language of his eye :
There pity dwelt, and from its tender fphere
Sent looks of love, and faithlefs hopes infpir'd.
Forgive me, generous maid, the youth re-
turn'd,

If, by thy accents charm'd, thus long I bore
To let fuch fweetnefs plead, alas! in vain!
Thy virtue merits more than crowns can yield
Of folid blifs, or happiest love, bestow.
But ere from native hore I plough'd the main,
To one dear maid, by virtue and by charms
Alone endear'd, my plighted vows I gave;
To guard my faith, whatever chance fhould wait
My warring fword if conqueft, fame, and fpoil,
Grac'd my return, before her feet to pour
The glittering treasure, and the laurel wreath ;
Enjoying conqueft then, and fame, and spoil,
If fortune frown'd adverfe, and death forbade
The blissful union, with my latest breath
To dwell on Medway's and Maria's name.
This ardent vow deep-rooted, from my foul
No dangers tore; this vow my bofom fir'd
To conquer danger, and the spoil enjoy.
Her fhall I leave, with fair events elate,

Who crown'd mine humbleft fortune with her love?

Her fhall I leave, who now perchance alone Climbs the proud cliff, and chides my flow return?

And fhall that veffel, whofe approaching fails
Shall fwell her breast with extacies, convey
Death to her hopes, and anguifh to her foul?
No! may the deep my villain-corfe devour,
If all the wealth Iberian mines conceal,
If all the charms Iberian maids disclose,
If thine, Elvira, thine, uniting all?

hus far prevail-nor can thy virtuous breaft Demand, what honour, faith, and love denies.

"Oh! happy fhe, rejoin'd the pensive maid, Who shares thy fame, thy virtue, and thy love! And be the happy! thy diftinguifh'd choice Declares her worth, and vindicates her claim." Farewell my luckiefs hopes, my flattering dreams Of rapturous days! my guilty fuit, farewell! Yet, fond howe'er my plea, or deep the wound That waits my fame, let not the random thaft Of cenfure pierce with me th' Iberian dames: They love with caution and with happier ftars. And oh! by pity mov'd, reftrain the taunts Of levity, nor brand Elvira's flame ;

By merit rais'd; by gratitude approv'd;
By hope confirm'd; with artless truth reveal'd;
Let, let me fay, but for one matchlefs maid
Of happier birth, with mutual ardor crown'd.

Thefe radiant gems, which burnish happiness,
But mock misfortune, to thy favourite's hand
With care convey. And well may such adorn
Her chearful front, who finds in thee alone
The fource of every transport; but difgrace
My penfive breaft, which doom'd to lafting woe,
In thee the fource of every blifs refigns.

And now farewel, thou darling youth! the

gem

Of English merit! peace, content, and joy,
And tender hopes, and young defires, farewel!
Attend, ye fmiling train, this gallant mind
Back to his native fhores; there sweetly smooth
His evening pillow; dance around his groves;
And, where he treads, with violets paint his way.
But leave Elvira leave her, now no more
Your frail companion! in the facred cells
Of fome lone cloifter let me fhroud my fhame ;
There, to the matin bell, obfequious, pour
My conftant orifons. The wanton Loves,
And gay Defires, fhall spy the glimmering tow-