In lonely luxury her forrows feed,
And pass her life in widow's decent weed.
One pledge of love her comfort still remain❜d,
Whom in this folitude fhe careful train'd
To virtuous lore; and while as year by year
New graces made Aurelia still more dear;
Full many an hour unheeded fhe would trace
The father's femblance in the daughter's face;
While tender fighs oft heav'd her faithful breast,
And fudden tears her lafting love expreft.
Thus long fhe dwelt in innate virtues great,
Amid the villagers in facred state :
For every grace to which fubmiffion bows,
The pow'r which confcious dignity bestows,
She felt fuperior; for from ancient race
She gloried her long ancestry to trace;
And ever bade Aurelia's thought aspire
To every grace, each ray of facred fire,
That full of heav'n-born dignity informs
The mortal breast which ardent virtue warms;
Then led her to the venerable hall
Where her fucceffive fires adorn'd the wall,
And arched windows with their blazon bright
Shed through the herald glow a folemn light:
There clad in rough habiliments of war
Full many a hero bore a glorious scar;
There in the civic fur the fons of peace,
Whofe counfels bade their country's tumults ceafe;
While by their fide, gracing the ancient scene,
Hung gentle ladies of most comely mien.
Then eager through the well-known tale fhe run,
In what fair caufe each honour had been won,
What female grace each virgin had poffefs'd
To charm to gentle love the manly breast;
Pleas'd to obferve how long her gen'rous blood
Through fair and brave had pass'd a spotless flood.
Mean while the young Aurelia's bofom fir'd
With emulation by each tale infpir'd,
In eager transport frequent breath'd her prayer
The graces of her ancestry to share :
Nor breath'd in vain, her fond maternal guide
Cherish'd with care each spark of virtuous pride;
And ever as she gave a leffon new,
Would point fome old example to her view:
Inflam'd by this, her mind was quickly fraught
With each fage precept, that her mother taught.
The goodly dame thus blefs'd in her employ,
Felt each foft tranfport of parental joy,
And liv'd content, her utmost wish fulfill'd
In the fair profpect of a virtuous child:
Refign'd she waited now the aweful hour
When death should raise her to that heav'nly bow'r,
Where with her lov'd Aurelius fhe might share
The pleafing task, to watch with guardian care
Their offspring's fteps, and hov'ring o'er her head,
The gracious dew of heavenly peace to shed
Nor fear'd her decency of life would prove
An added bliss to all the joys above.
By the late Mr. F. COVENTRY.
OW Britain's fenate, far renown'd,
Affembles full an aweful band!
Now Majefty with golden circle crown'd,
Mounts her bright throne, and waves her gracious hand. "Ye chiefs of Albion with attention hear,
"Guard well your liberties, review your laws,
Begin, begin th' important year,
"And boldly fpeak in Freedom's caufe."
Then ftarting from her summer's reft
Glad' Eloquence unbinds her tongue.
She feels rekindling raptures wake her breast, the facred energy along.
'Twas here great Hampden's patriot voice was heard,
Here Pym, Kimbolton fir'd the British soul,
When Pow'r her arm defpotic rear'd
But felt a fenate's great controul.
'Twas here the pond'ring worthies fat,
Who fix'd the crown on William's head,
When awe-ftruck tyranny renounc'd the state,
And bigot JAMES his injur'd kingdoms fled.
Thee, generous youth, whom nature, birth adorn,
The Mufe felects from yon affembled throng:
O thou to serve thy country born,
Tell me, young hero of my song,
Thy genius now in faireft bloom,
And warmth with fancy's brightest rays,
Why fleeps thy foul unconscious of its doom?
Why idly fleet thy unapplauded days?
Thy country beckons thee with lifted hand,
Arise, she calls, awake thy latent flame,
Arife, 'tis England's high command,
And snatch the ready wreaths of fame.
Be this thy paffion; greatly dare
A people's jarring wills to sway, With curft Corruption wage eternal war,
That where thou goe'ft, applauding crowds may fay, "Lo, that is he, whofe fpirit-ruling voice
From her wild heights can call Ambition down,
"Can ftill Sedition's brutal hoife,
"Or shake a tyrant's purple throne :"
Then chiefs, and fages yet unborn
Shall boast thy thoughts in diftant days,
With thee fair History her leaves adorn,
And laurell'd bards proclaim thy lasting praise.
THE midnight moon ferenely smiles
O'er nature's foft repose,
No lowring cloud obfcures the skies,
Nor ruffling tempeft blows.
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