While as his loofe Chains loudly clink,
Thou add'ft a Length to every Link:
O thou, that lov'ft at Eve to feek
The penfive-pacing Pilgrim meek,
And fet'ft before his fhuddering Eyes
Strange Forms, and Fiends of Giant-fize,
As wildly works thy wizzard Will,
Till fear-ftruck Fancy has her Fill:
Dark Pow'r, whofe magic Might prevails
O'er Hermit-rocks, and Fairy-vales;
O Goddess, erft by* SPENSER view'd,
What Time th' Enchanter vile embru'd,
His Hands in FLORIMEL'S pure Heart,
'Till loos'd by steel-clad BRITOMART:
O thou that erft on Fancy's Wing
Didft terror-trembling + Tasso bring,
To Groves where kept damn'd Furies dire
Their blue-tipt Battlements of Fire:
Thou that thro' many a darksom Pine,
O'er the rugged Rock recline,
Did'ft wake the hollow-whifp'ring Breeze
With care-confumed ELOISE':
O thou, with whom in chearless Cell,
The midnight Clock pale Pris'ners tell;
*SPENSER's Fairy Queen, b. 3. canto 12.
+ Gieruf, Liberat, b. 14.
O hafte thee, mild Miltonic Maid,
From yonder Yew's fequefter'd fhade;
More bright than all the fabled Nine,
Teach me to breathe the folemn Line!
O bid my well-rang'd Numbers rise
Pervious to none but Attic Eyes;
O give the Strain that Madness moves,
Till every starting Senfe approves!
What felt the Gallic Traveller,
When far in Arab-defert drear,
He found within the Catacomb,
Alive, the Terrors of a Tomb?
While many a Mummy through the Shade,
In hieroglyphic Stole array'd,
Seem'd to uprear the mystic Head,
And trace the Gloom with ghoftly Tread;
Thou heardft him pour the ftifled Groan,
HORROR! his Soul was all thy own!
O Mother of the fire-clad Thought,
O hafte thee from thy grave-like Grot!
(What Time the Witch perform'd her Rite,)
Sprung from th' Embrace of TASTE and Night!
O Queen! that erft did'ft thinly spread
The willowy Leaves o'er † Isis' Head,
* I do not remember that any poetical Use has been made of this Story.
And to her meek Mien did'ft difpenfe
Woe's most awful Negligence;
What Time, in Cave, with Vifage pale,
She told her elegiac Tale:
O thou! whom wand'ring WARTON faw,
Amaz'd with more than youthful Awe,
As by the pale Moon's glimm'ring Gleam
He mus'd his melancholy Theme *:
O curfeu-loving Goddess hafte!
O waft me to fome SCYTHIAN Wafte,
Where, in Gothic Solitude,
Mid Profpects most sublimely rude,
Beneath a rough Rock's gloomy Chaẩm,
Thy Sifter fits, ENTHUSIASM:
Let me with her, in magic Trance,
Hold moft delirious Dalliance;
Till I, thy penfive Votary,
HORROR, look madly wild like thee;
Until I gain true Transport's Shore,
And Life's retiring Scene is o'er;
Afpire to fome more azure Sky,
Remote from dim Mortality;
At Length, recline the fainting Head,
In Druid-dreams diffolv'd and dead.
* See The PLEASURES of MELANCHOLY, a Poem.
Six Several AUTHORS.
By HAWKINS BROWNE, Efq;
I. A NEW YEAR's ODE,
In Imitation of COLLEY CIBBER, Efq;
RECITATIVO.
LD Battle-array, big with Horror is fled,
And olive-rob'd Peace again lifts up her Head. Sing, ye Mufes, TOBACCO, the Bleffing of Peace; Was ever a Nation fo bleffed as this?
When Summer Suns grow red with Heat,
TOBACCO tempers Phoebus' Ire,
When wintry Storms around us beat,
TOBACCO chears with gentle Fire.
Yellow Autumn, youthful spring,
In thy Praises jointly fing.
RECITATIVO.
Like NEPTUNE, CESAR guards VIRGINIAN Fleets,
Fraught with TOBACCO's balmy Sweets;
Old Ocean trembles at BRITANNIA'S POW'r,
And BOREAS is afraid to roar.
Happy Mortal! he who knows
Pleasure which a Pipe bestows;
Curling Eddies climb the Room,
Wafting round a mild perfume.
RECITATIVO.
Let foreign Climes the Vine and Orange boaft,
While Waftes of War deform the teeming coast;
BRITANNIA, diftant from each hoftile found,
Enjoys a PIPE, with Eafe and Freedom crown'd;
E'en restless Faction finds itself moft free,
Or if a Slave, a Slave to Liberty.
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