When envious prudes no longer haunt the fair,
But end a day of calumny in prayer:

O'er Quarles or Bunyan nod, in dreams relent,
Without difguife give all their passions vent,

And mourn their wither'd charms, and youthful prime
mifpent.

Then by the waxen taper's glimmering light,
With thee the ftudious maid fhall pass the night;
Shall feel her heart beat quick in every page,
And tremble at the ftern Pelides' rage:
With horror view the half-drawn blade appear,
And the defponding tyrant pale with fear;
To calm that foul untam'd, fage Neftor fails,
And ev❜n celestial wisdom scarce prevails.
Then lead her to the margin of the main,
And let her hear th' impatient chief complain;
Tofs'd with fuperior storms, on the bleak shores
He lies, and louder than the billows roars.
Next the dread fcene unfold of war and blood,
Hector in arms triumphant, Greece fubdued;
The partial gods who with their foes confpire,
The dead, the dying, and the fleet on fire.
But tell, oh! tell the caufe of all this woe,
The fatal fource from whence these mischiefs flow;
Tell her 'twas love deny'd the hero fir'd,
Depriv'd of her whom moft his heart defir'd.
Not the dire vengeance of the thundering Jove,
Can match the boundless rage of injur'd love.
Stop the fierce torrent, and its billows rife,
Lay waste the fhores, invade both-earth and skies:

Confine

Confine it not, but let it gently flow,

It kindly chears the fmiling plains below,
And everlafting fweets upon its borders grow.

}

To Troy's proud walls the wondering maid convey, With pointed fpires and golden turrets gay, The work of gods: thence let the fair behold The court of Priam, rich in gems and gold; is numerous fons, his queen's majestic pride, h' afpiring domes, th' apartments ftretching wide, There on their looms Sidonian virgins wrought, nd weav'd the battles which their lovers fought. re let her eyes furvey those fatal charms, e beauteous prize that fet the world in arms; rough gazing crowds, bright progeny of Jove, walks, and every panting heart beats love. n faplefs age new bloffoms at the fight, d views the fair destroyer with delight:

uty's vaft power, hence to the nymph make known, Helen's triumphs let her read her own;

blame her flaves, but lay the guilt on fate, d pardon failings which her charms create. afh bard! forbear, nor let thy flattering Mufe, th pleafing visions, thy fond heart abuse; in are thy hopes prefumptuous, vain thy prayer, ght is her image, and divinely fair:

t oh! the goddefs in thy arms is fleeting air. dreams th' ambitious man when rich Tokay, Burgundy, refines his vulgar clay :

he white rod trembles in his potent hand,

nd crowds obfequious wait his high command;

Upon his breast he views the radiant star,
And gives the word around him, peace or war:
In ftate he reigns, for one fhort, busy night,
But foon convinc'd by the next dawning light,
Curfes the fading joys that vanish from his fight.

AN EPISTLE TO ALLAN RAMSAY.

TEAR fair Avona's filver tide,

NE

Whose waves in foft meanders glide,

I read, to the delighted fwains,

Your jocund fongs and rural strains.
Smooth as her streams your numbers flow,
Your thoughts in varied beauties show,
Like flowers that on her borders grow.
While I furvey, with ravish'd eyes,
His friendly gift, my valued prize,
Where fifter Arts, with charms divine,
In their full bloom and beauty fhine,
Alternately my foul is bleft.
Now I behold my welcome guest,
That graceful, that engaging air,
So dear to all the brave and fair,
Nor has th' ingenious artist shown
His outward lineaments alone,

* Lord Somervile was pleafed to fend me his own

picture, and Mr. Ramfay's works.

SOMERVILE.

But

But in th' expreffive draught defign'd,
The nobler beauties of his mind;
True friendship, love, benevolence,
Unftudied wit, and manly fenfe.
Then, as your book I wander o'er,
And feast on the delicious ftore
(Like the laborious bufy bee,
Pleas'd with the sweet variety),
With equal wonder and furprize,
I fee refembling portraits rise.
Brave archers march in bright array,
In troops the vulgar line the way.
Here the droll figures flyly fneer,
Or coxcombs at full length appear.
There woods and lawns, a rural scene,
And fwains that gambol on the green.
Your pen can act the pencil's part
With greater genius, fire, and art.

Believe me, bard, no hunted hind

That pants against the southern wind,
And feeks the ftream through unknown ways;

No matron in her teeming days,

E'er felt fuch longings, fuch defires,.

As I to view thofe lofty fpires,

Thofe domes, where fair Edina shrouds

Her towering head amid the clouds.
But oh! what dangers interpofe !

Vales deep with dirt, and hills with fnows,
Proud winter floods with rapid force;

Forbid the pleafing intercourse.

But fure we bards, whofe

purer clay,

Nature has mixt with less allay,
Might foon find out an easier way.

Do not fage matrons mount on high,

And switch their broom-sticks through the sky;
Ride poft o'er hills, and woods, and feas,
From Thule to th' Hefperides * ?

And yet the men of Gresham own
That this and ftranger feats are done,
By a warm fancy's power alone.
This granted; why can't you and I
Stretch forth our wings, and cleave the fky?
Since our poetic brains, you know,
Than theirs muft more intenfely glow.
Did not the Theban fwan take wing,
Sublimely foar, and sweetly sing?
And do not we of humbler vein,
Sometimes attempt a loftier ftrain,
Mount fheer out of the reader's fight,
Obfcurely loft in clouds and night?

Then climb your Pegafus with speed,
I'll meet thee on the banks of Tweed:
Not as our fathers did of yore,
To fwell the flood with crimson gore;
Like the Cadmean murdering brood,
Each thirsting for his brother's blood.
For now all hoftile rage fhall ceafe;
Lull'd in the downy arms of peace,

}

The Scilly iflands were fo called by the antients.

Our

1