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With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And blest the cot where ev'ry pleasure rose;
And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear :
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief
In all the decent manliness of grief.

O Luxury! thou curst by heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with insidious joy Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own.

At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe:

Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.

Ev'n now the devastation is begun,
And half the bus'ness of destruction done:
Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand,
I see the rural virtues leave the land.

Down where yon anch'ring vessels spread the sail,
That idly waiting flaps with every gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,

Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.
Contented toil, and hospitable care,

And kind connubial tenderness are there;

And piety, with wishes plac'd above,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ;
Unfit in these degen'rate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decry'd,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe,
Thou found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so;
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurse of ev'ry virtue, fare thee well.
Farewel; and O! where'er thy voice be try'd,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime;
And slighted truth, with thy persuasive strain,
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain :
Teach him that states of native strength possest,
Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away :
While self-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

FOUR ELEGIES;

DESCRIPTIVE AND MORAL.

SCOTT.

ELEGY I.

WRITTEN AT THE APPROACH OF SPRING.

STERN Winter hence with all his train removes;
And cheerful skies and limpid streams are seen;
Thick-sprouting foliage decorates the groves;
Reviving herbage robes the fields in green.

Yet lovelier scenes shall crown th' advancing year,
When blooming Spring's full bounty is display'd:
The smile of beauty ev'ry vale shall wear;
The voice of song enliven ev'ry shade.

O fancy, paint not coming days too fair!
Oft for the prospects sprightly MAY should yield,
Rain-pouring clouds have darken'd all the air,
Or snows untimely whiten'd o'er the field:

But should kind spring her wonted bounty show'r
The smile of beauty and the voice of song ;
If gloomy thought the human mind o'erpow'r,
Ev'n vernal hours glide unenjoy'd along.

I shun the scenes where madd'ning passion raves;
Where pride and folly high dominion hold,
And unrelenting avarice drives her slaves
O'er prostrate virtue, in pursuit of gold :

The grassy lane, the wood-surrounded field,
The rude stone fence, with fragrant wall-flow'rs
gay,

The clay-built cot, to me more pleasure yield
Than all the pomp imperial domes display:

And yet ev'n here, amid these secret shades,
These simple scenes of unreprov'd delight,
Affliction's iron hand my breast invades,

And death's dread dart is ever in my sight.

While genial suns to genial show'rs succeed,

(The air all mildness, and the earth all bloom) While herds and flocks range sportive o'er the mead,

Crop the sweet herb, and snuff the rich perfume;

O why alone to hapless man deny'd

To taste the bliss inferior beings boast ? O why this fate, that fear and pain divide

His few short hours on earth's delightful coast?

Ah cease—no more of Providence complain ! 'Tis sense of guilt that wakes the mind to woe, Gives force to fear, adds energy to pain,

And palls each joy by Heav'n indulg'd below:

Why else the smiling infant-train so blest,

Ere dear-bought knowledge ends the peace within, Or wild desire inflames the youthful breast, Or ill propension ripens into sin ?

As to the bleating tenants of the field,

As to the sportive warblers on the trees, To them their joys sincere the seasons yield, And all their days and all their prospects please!

Such joys were mine when from the peopled streets, Where on THAMESIS' banks I liv'd immur'd, The new-blown fields, that breath'd a thousand sweets,

TO SURRY'S wood-crown'd hills my steps allur'd.

O happy hours, beyond recov'ry fled!

What share I now," that can your loss repay," While o'er my mind these glooms of thought are spread,

And veil the light of life's meridian ray?

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