Whilft, in his cell, he meditates alone
On his great voyage, to the world unknown.
S o'er Afteria's fields I rove,
The blissful feat of peace and love,
Ten thousand beauties round me rife,
And mingle pleasure with furprize.
By nature bleft in every part,
Adorn'd with every grace of art,
This paradife of blooming joys
Each raptur'd fenfe, at once, employs.
But when I view the radiant queen,
Who form'd this fair enchanting scene;
Pardon, ye grots! ye crystal floods!
Ye breathing flowers! ye fhady woods!
Your coolnefs now no more invites ;
No more your murmuring stream delights;
Your fweets decay, your verdure 's flown;
My foul's intent on her alone.
PARAPHRASE upon a FRENCH SONG.
"Venge moi d'une ingrate maitreffe,
"Dieu du vin, j'implore bon yvresse."
KIND relief in all my pain,
Jolly Bacchus! hear my prayer,
Vengeance on th' ingrateful fair!
In thy fmiling cordial bowl,
Drown the forrows of my foul,
All thy deity employ,
Gild each gloomy thought with joy,
Jolly Bacchus save, oh fave,
From the deep devouring grave,
A poor, defpairing, dying fwain.
Lafh thy tigers, do not stay,
I'm undone if thou delay.
If I view those eyes once more,
Still fhall love, and still adore,
And be more wretched than before.
See the glory round her face!
See her move!
With what a grace !
Ye Gods above!
Is the not one of your immortal race ?---
Fly, ye winged Cupids, fly,
Dast like lightning through the fky:
Would ye in marble temples dwell,
The dear-one to my arms compel ;
Bring her in bands of myrtle tied;
Bid her forget, and bid her hide,
All her fcorn and all her pride.
Would ye that your flave repay
A fmoaking hecatomb each day;
O reftore
The beauteous Goddess I adore;
O restore, with all her charms,
The faithlefs vagrant to my arms!
HUDIBRAS and MILTON reconciled.
"Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinæ.”
EAR knight, how great a drudge is he
Who would excel in poetry!
And yet how few have learnt the art,
T' inform the head, or touch the heart!
Some, with a dry and barren brain,
Poor rogues! like coftive lap-dogs ftrain;
While others with a flux of wit,
The reader and their friends befh-t.
Would you (Sir Knight) my judgement know?
He ftill writes worst who writes fo-fo.
In this the mighty fecret lies,
To elevate, and to furprize :
Thus far my pen at random run,
The fire was out, the clock ftruck one.
When, lo ftrange hollow murmurs from without,
Invade my ears. In every quarter rouz'd,
The warring winds rufh from their rocky caves
Tumultuous; the vapours dank, or dry,
Beneath their standards rang'd, with lowering front
Darken the welkin. At each dreadful fhock
Oaks, pines, and elms, down to their mother earth
Bend low their fuppliant heads: the nodding towers
Menace deftruction, and old Edrick's house
From its foundation fhakes. The bellying clouds
Burft into rain, or gild their fable skirts
With flakes of ruddy fire; fierce elements
In ruin reconcil'd! redoubled peals
Of ceafelefs thunder roar. Convulfions rend
The firmament. The whole creation ftands
Mute and appall'd, and trembling waits its doom.
And now perhaps, dear friend, you wonder
In this dread fcene of wind, rain, thunder,
What a poor guilty wretch could do;
Then hear (for, faith, I tell you true)
I water'd, fhook my giddy head,
Gravely broke wind, and went to bed.
Upon MIRANDA's leaving the Country.
HE fun departing hides his head,
The lily and the rose are dead,
The birds forget to fing;
The cooing turtles now no more
Repeat their amorous ditties o'er,
But watch th' approaching fpring.
For foon the merry month of May
Reftores the bright all-chearing ray;
Soft notes charm every grove :
The flowers ambrofial incenfe breathe,
And all above, and all beneath,
Is fragrance, joy, and love.
So when Miranda hence retires,
Each fhepherd only not expires:
How rueful is the fcene!
How the dull moments creep along!
No sportive dance, no rural fong,
No gambols on the green.
Yet, when the radiant nymph appears,
Each field its richest livery wears,
All nature's blithe and gay;
The fwains transported with delight,
After a long and gloomy night,
Blefs the reviving day.
While thus, indulgent to our prayer
Kind heaven permitted us to share
A bleffing fo divine;
While fmiling hope gave fome relief,
And joys alternate footh'd our grief,
What fhepherd could repine?
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