Why weep ye now! ye faw with tearless eye
When your fleet perish'd on the Punic wave;
Where lurk'd the coward tear, the lazy figh,
When Tyre's imperial state commenc'd a slave ?
'Tis paft-O Carthage! vanquish'd! honour'd fhade!
Go, the mean forrows of thy fons deplore;
Had freedom fhar'd the vow to fortune paid,
She ne'er, like fortune, had forfook thy fhore.”
He ceas'd-abash'd the conscious audience hear;
Their pallid cheeks a crimfon blush unfold;
Yet o'er that virtuous blush diftreams a tear,
And falling moiftens their abandon'd gold..

ELE GY XX.

He compares his humble fortune with the diftress of others; and his fubjection to DELIA, with the miferable fervitude of an African flave.

WHY droops this heart, with fancy'd woes.

forlorn,

Why finks my foul beneath each wintry sky?
What penfive crowds, by ceaseless labours worn,
What myriads, wifh to be as bleft as I!

What though my roofs devoid of pomp arife,
Nor tempt the proud to quit his destin'd way?
Nor coftly art my flowery dales disguise,

Where only fimple friendship deigns to stray?

See

See the wild fons of Lapland's chill domain,

That fcoop their couch beneath the drifted fnows!

How void of hope they ken the frozen plain,
Where the sharp eaft for ever, ever blows!

Slave though I be, to Delia's eyes a flave,

My Delia's eyes endear the bands I wear; The figh fhe causes well becomes the brave, The pang fhe caufes, 'tis ev'n blifs to bear. See the poor native quit the Libyan fhores, Ah! not in love's delightful fetters bound! No radiant fmile his dying peace restores;

Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship, heals his wound, Let vacant bards difplay their boasted woes,

Shall I the mockery of grief display?

No, let the Mufe his piercing pangs disclose,
Who bleeds and weeps his fum of life away.
On the wild beach in mournful guife he stood
Ere the fhrill boatfwain gave the hated fign;.
He dropt a tear unfeen into the flood;

He ftole one fecret moment, to repine.
Yet the Mufe liften'd to the plaints he made;
Such moving plaints as nature could infpire;.
To me the Mufe his tender plea convey'd,

But smooth'd, and fuited to the founding lyre. "Why am I ravifh'd from my native strand?

What favage race protects this impious gain? Shall foreign plagues infeft this teeming land, And more than fea-born monsters plough the main ?

Here

Here the dire locufts horrid fwarms prevail;

Here the blue afps with livid poifon fwell; Here the dry dipfa writh his finuous mail;

Can we not here fecure from envy dwell? When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace, When the ftern panther fought his midnight prey, What fate referv'd me for this christian race? O race more polish'd, more fevere than they! Ye prouling wolves, purfue my latest cries! Thou hungry tiger, leave thy reeking den! Ye fandy waftes, in rapid eddies rife !

O tear me from the whips and scorns of men !
Yet in their face fuperior beauty glows;

Are fmiles the mien of rapine and of wrong?
Yet from their lip the voice of mercy flows,
And ev'n religion dwells upon their tongue.
Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes,

Where gentle minds convey'd by death repair,
But ftain'd with blood, and crimson'd o'er with crimes,
Say, fhall they merit what they paint fo fair?
No, careless, hopeless, of thofe fertile plains,
Rich by our toils, and by our forrows gay,
They ply our labours, and enhance our pains,
And feign these distant regions to repay.
For them our tusky elephant expires.;

For them we drain the mine's embowel'd gold; Where rove the brutal nations wild defires ?Our limbs are purchas'd, and our life is fold!

Yet

Yet fhores there are, bleft fhores for us remain, And favour'd ifles with golden fruitage crown'd, Where tufted flowrets paint the verdant plain,

Where every breeze shall med'cine every wound.. There the ftern tyrant that embitters life

Shall, vainly fuppliant, spread his asking hand There shall we view the billows raging strife, Aid the kind breast, and waft his boat to land."

Taking a view of the country from his retirement, he is led to meditate on the character of the ancient Britons. Written at the time of a

rumoured tax upon luxury, 1746.

HUS Damon fung-What though unknown to praife

Umbrageous coverts hide my Muse and me; Or 'mid the rural fhepherds, flow my days, Amid the rural shepherds, I am free. To view fleek vaffals crowd a ftately hall, Say, fhould I grow myself a folemn slave! To find thy tints, O Titian! grace my wall, Forego the flowery fields my fortune gave? Lord of my time my devious path I bend, Through fringy woodland, or fmooth-fhaven lawn Or penfile grove, or airy cliff afcend,

And hail the fcene by nature's pencil drawn.

Thanks

Thanks be to fate-though nor the racy vine,
Nor fattening olive cloath the fields I rove,
Sequefter'd fhades, and gurgling founts are mine,
And every filvan grott the Mufes love.
Here if my vifta point the mouldering pile,
Where hood and cowl devotion's afpect wore,
I trace the tottering reliques with a smile,
To think the mental bondage is no more!
Pleas'd if the glowing landscape wave with corn;
Or the tall oaks, my country's bulwark, rise;
Pleas'd, if mine eye, o'er thousand vallies borne,
Difcern the Cambrian hills fupport the fkies.
And fee Plinlimmon ! ev'n the youthful fight

Scales the proud hill's etherial cliffs with pain! Such Caer-caradoc! thy ftupendous height,

Whofe ample shade obscures th' Iernian main. Bleak, joylefs regions! where, by fcience fir'd, Some prying fage his lonely step may bend; There, by the love of novel plaints inspir'd, Invidious view the clambering goats afcend. Yet for those mountains, clad with lafting fnow, The freeborn Briton left his greenest mead, Receding fullen from his mightier foe,

For here he faw fair liberty recede.

Then if a chief perform'd a patriot's part, Suftain'd her drooping fons, repell'd her foes, Above all Perfian luxe, or Attic art,

The rude majestic monument arose.

Pro