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Sprung the stern • king of men, and breathing death
Where in firn battle, Trojans band by band
Embody'd stood, pursued his dreadful way ;
His host his step attends ; now glows the war,
Horse treads on horse, and man encountering mang
Swells the dire field with death, the plunging steeds
Beat the firın glebes ;. thick duft in-rising clouds
Darkens the sky : Indignant o'er the plain.
Atrides ftalks ; death

every step atiends.
As when, in some huge foreft, sudden flames
Rage dreadful, when rough winds aslift the blaze,
From tree to tree the fiery torrent rolls,
And the vast forest finks with all its groves -
Beneath the burning deluge ; so whole hosts -
Yield to Atrides' arm: car against car
Ruhid rattling o'er the field, and through the ranks
Unguided broke ;- while breathless on the ground.
Lay the pale charioteers : In death deformd ;;
To their chafe brides fad spectacles of woe,
Now only grateful to the fowls ofi air.

Mean time, the care of Jove, great Hector stood Secure in scenes of death, in storms of darts, In Naughter and alarms, in dust and blood.

Still Agamemnon rushing o'er the field, Leads his bold bands : whole hosts before him fly, Now Ilus' tomb they pass, now urge

their

way Close by the fig-tree ihade : with Mouts the king

#

Agamemnon, v. 148.

Pursues

Pursues the foe inceffant, dust and blood,
Blood mixed with duft, distains his murderous hands.

As when a lion in the gloom of night,
Invades an herd of beeves, o'er all the plains
Trembling they scatter : furious on the

prey
The generous savage flies, and with fierce joy
Seizes the last: his hungry foaming jaws
Churn the black blood, and rend the panting prey.
Thus fied the foe, Atricks thus pursued,
And still the hindmost flew : they from their cars
Fell headlong, for his javelin, wild for blood,
Rag'd terribly; and now proud Troy had. falin,
But the dread Sire of men and God's descends
Terrific from his heavens, his vengeful hand
Ten thoufand thunders grasps : on Ida's heights-
He takes his standi, it makes with all its groves
Beneath the God;, the God: suspends the war.

To Mrs. E LIZ. M-T, on her Picture,

1716. 0

wondrous art, that grace to shadows gives !

By whose command the lovely phantom lives ! Smiles with her smiles! the mimic eye instillsA real frame !' the fancy'd lightning kills! Thus mirrors catch the love-inspiring face, And the new charmer grace returns for grace.

Hence shall thy heauties, when no more appearsTheir fair poffeffor, shine a thousand years :

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By age uninjur’d, future times adorn,
And warm the hearts of millions yet unborn,
Who, gazing on the portrait with a sigh,
Shall grieve such perfect charms could ever die :
How would they grieve, if to such beauties join'd
The paint could few the wonders of thy mind?

0! virgin, born th' admiring world to grace !
Transniit thy excellence to latest days;
Yield to thy lover's vows ! and then shall rise
A race of beauties conquering with thine eyes :
Who reigning in thy charms from death shall save
That lovely form, and triumph o'er the grave.

Thus when through age the rose-tree's charms decay,
When all her fading beauties die away ;
A blooining offspring fills the parent's place
With equal fragrance, and with equal grace.

But ah! how short a date on earth is given To the most lovely workmanship of heaven? Too soon that cheek must every charm resign, And those love-darting eyes forget to shine! While thousands, weeping round, with sighs survey What once was you- now only beauteous clay! Ev'n from the canvas shall thy image fade, And thou re-perish in thy perish'd hade : Then may this verse to future ages show One perfect beauty such as thou art now! May it the graces of thy foul display, Till this world sinks, and suns themselves decay;

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Fantastic
power!
# What

rage thy darts inspire,
When too much beauty kindles too much fire?
Those darts, to jealous rage stern Herod drove,
It was a crime, but crime of too much love!
Yet if condemn'd he falls---with pitying eyes
Behold his injur'd Mariamne rise !
No fancy'd tale! our opening scenes disclose
Historic truth, and swell with real woes.
Awful in virtuous grief the queen appears,
And Itrong the eloquence of royal tears ;
By woes ennobled, with majestic pace,
She meets misfortune, glorious in disgrace!

Small is the praise of beauty, when it flies
Fair honour's laws, at best but lovely vice;
Charins it like Venus with celestial air?
Ev'n Venus is but scandalously fair ;
But when strict honour with fair features joins,
Like heat and light, at once it warms and thines.

+ Then let her fate your kind attention raise,
Whose perfect charnis were but her second praife s
Beauty and virtue your protection claim,
Give tears to beauty, give to virtue fame.

1

VARIATIONS.

• What pangs &c.
+ Then let her fate your just attention raise,
Whose perfect graces were but second praise.

То

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