Lo, Love himself, with heavy woes opprest! See how his forrows swell his tender breast; His bow he breaks, and wide his arrows flings, And folds his little arms, and hangs his drooping wings: Then, lays his limbs upon the dying grafs, And all with tears bedews his beauteous face, With tears, which from his folded lids arife, And even Love himself has weeping eyes. All nature mourns; the floods and rocks deplore, And cry with me, "Pastora is no more!"

I mourn Paftora dead; let Albion mourn,
And fable clouds her chalky cliffs adorn.
The rocks can melt, and air in mists can mourn,
And floods can weep, and winds to sighs can turn;
The birds, in songs, their forrows can disclose,
And nymphs and swains, in words, can tell their woes.
But, oh! behold that deep and wild despair,

Which neither winds can shew, nor floods, nor air.
See the great shepherd, chief of all the swains,
Lord of these woods and wide-extended plains,
Stretch'd on the ground, and close to earth his face,
Scalding with tears th' already-faded grafs ;
To the cold clay he joins his throbbing breaft,
No more within Pastora's arms to rest!

No more! For those once soft and circling arms
Themselves are clay, and cold are all her charms
Cold are those lips, which he no more must kiss,
And cold that bosom, once all downy bliss;
On whose soft pillows, lull'd in sweet delights,
He us'd, in balmy sleep, to lose the nights.

Ah! where is all that love and fondness fled?
Ah! where is all that tender sweetness laid?
To dust must all that heaven of beauty come!
And must Pastora moulder in the tomb!
Ah, death! more fierce and unrelenting far,
Than wildest wolves or savage tigers are;
With lambs and sheep their hungers are appeas'd,
But ravenous death the shepherdefs has feiz'd.

I mourn Paftora dead; let Albion mourn, And fable clouds her chalky cliffs adorn. "But fee, Menalcas, where a fudden light, "With wonder stops my fong, and strikes my fight! "And where Pastora lies, it spreads around, " Shewing all radiant bright the facred ground. "While from her tomb, behold, a flame afcends "Of whiteft fire, whose flight to heaven extends! "On flaking wings it mounts, and quick as fight "Cuts through the yielding air with rays of light; "Till the blue firmament at last it gains, "And, fixing there, a glorious star remains :" Fairest it shines of all that light the skies, As once on earth were feen Paftora's eyes.

TO TO THE

KING,

ON THE TAKING OF NAMUR.

IRREGULARODE.

"Præfenti tibi maturos largimur honores :

"Nil oriturum aliàs, nil ortum tale fatentes."

I.

Hor. ad Augustum.

Farms and war my Muse aspires to fing,
And strike the lyre upon an untry'd string:

New fire informs my soul, unfelt before;
And, on new wings, to heights unknowm I foar,
O power unseen! by whose resistless force
Compell'd, I take this flight, direct my course :
For Fancy wild and pathless ways will chuse,
Which Judgment rarely, or with pain, pursues:
Say, facred nymph, whence this great change proceeds
Why scorns the lowly swain his oaten reeds,
Daring aloud to strike the founding lyre,

And fing heroic deeds;

Neglecting flames of love, for martial fire?

II.

William, alone, my feeble voice can raise;
What voice so weak, that cannot fing his praise!
The listening world each whisper will befriend
That breathes his name, and every ear attend.

The

The hovering winds on downy wings shall wait around, And catch, and waft to foreign lands, the flying found.

Ev'n I will in his praise be heard;

For by his name my verse shall be preferr'd.' Borne like a lark upon this eagle's wing, High as the spheres, I will his triumph sing; High as the head of Fame; Fame, whose exalted fize From the deep vale extends up to the vaulted skies :

A thousand talking tongues the monster bears, A thousand waking eyes, and ever-open ears; Hourly she stalks, with huge gigantic pace, Measuring the globe, like time, with conftant race: Yet shall she stay, and bend to William's praife : Of him, her thousand ears shall hear triumphant lays, Of him her tongue shall talk, on him her eyes shall gaze.

III.

But lo, a change aftonishing my eyes!
And all around, behold new objects rise !
What forms are these I fee? and whence?
Beings fubstantial? or does air condense,
To clothe in visionary shape my various thought?
Are these by fancy wrought!

Can strong ideas ftrike so deep the sense!
O facred poefy! O boundless power!

What wonders dost thou trace, what hidden worlds ex

plore !

Through feas, earth, air, and the wide-circling sky, What is not fought and seen by thy all-piercing eye!

IV.

'Twas now, when flowery lawns the profpect made,
And flowing brooks beneath a forest's shade;
A lowing heifer, lovelieft of the herd,

Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepar'd
Their armed heads for fight; by fate of war, to prove
The victor worthy of the fair-one's love.

Unthought presage, of what met next my view!
For foon the shady scene withdrew.
And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers;
Behold a town arife, bulwark'd with walls, and lofty

towers!

Two rival armies all the plain o'erspread,
Each in battalia rang'd, and shining arms array'd :
With eager eyes beholding both from far

Namur, the prize and mistress of the war.

V.

Now, thirst of conquest, and immortal fame, Does every chief and soldier's heart inflame. Defenfive arms the Gallic forces bear, While hardy Britons for the storm prepare : For fortune had, with partial hand, before Resign'd the rule to Gallia's power. High on a rock the mighty fortress stands, Founded by Fate, and wrought by Nature's hands. A wondrous task it is th' Afcent to gain, Through craggy cliffs, that strike the fight with pain, And nod impending terrors o'er the plain. To this, what dangers men can add, by force or skill, (And great is human force and wit in ill)

Are