Sound the move fmootherthan the steps of eafe, | There, unregarded in the peaceful fhade,
And pour oblivion in the ear of pain.

In this fur vale eternal fpring fhall fmile,
AndTime unenvious crown each rofeate hour;
El joy thall every care beguile,

Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower.
This filver Bream, that down its cryftal way
Free has led thy mufing fteps along,
5 Kill the fame, in funny mazes play,
Ardits murmurs melodife thy long.
Un green fhall thefe fair groves adorn;
Thing meads immortal flowers unfold;
miles thall rife each blufhing morn,
Ai every evening clofe in clouds of gold.
Tetender Loves that watch thy flumbering rest,
And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles
charm, thro' all approaching life, thy breast,
With joys for ever pure, for ever new.
The genial power that speeds the golden dart,
Es charm of tender paffion fhall infpire;

d affection fill the mutual heart,
Andeed the flame of ever-young Defire.
Cole Loves! your myrtle garlands bring;

ing bower with chuiter'd roles fpread; atleairs! with incenfe-dropping wing The breathing fweets of vernal odour shed. Erk, as the ftrains of fwelling mufic rife,

tre notes vibrate on the fav'ring gale!
As glories beam along the skies,
And powers unfeen the happy moments hail!
Eccurs! fo every diftant day,

Leferene on downy wings fhall move;
Becond with joys that triumph o'er decay,
The faithful joys of Fancy and of Love."

ELEGY II.

Awere they vain, thofe foothing lays ye fung?
Cdren of Fancy! yes, your fong was vain;
Cech foft air though rapt Attention hung,
Ard Silence liften'd on the fleeping plain.
Trains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear,
And hill to fmile the mimic beauties feem,
ugh now the vifionary scenes appear
Lke the faint traces of a vanish'd dream.
Tor of life! the glories thus impart

With calm Repofe and Silence let me dwell.
Come, happier hours of fweet unanxious reft,
When all the struggling paffions shall subside;
When Peace fhall clafp me to her pluny breaft,
And smooth my filent minutes as they glide.
But chief, thou goddess of the thoughtless eye,
Whom never cares or paffions difcompofe,
O bleft Infenfibility, be nigh,

Of all that Youth and Love and Fancy frame,
en painful Anguifh fpeeds the piercing dart,
Or Envy blafts the blooming flowers of Fame.
fe of wild wishes, and of fond defires,
The prophetefs of Fortune, falfe and vain,
To fcenes where Peace in Ruin's arms expires,
Fallacious Hope deludes her hapless train.
G., Syren, gothy charms on others try;
My beaten bark at length has reach'd thefhore;
You the rock my dropping garments lie;
And let me perifh, if I trust thee more.
Cme, gentle Quiet! long-neglected maid!
O come, and lead me to thy moffy cell:

And with thy foothing hand my weary eyelids

clofe.

Then fhall the cares of love and glory cease,
And all the fond anxieties of fame;

Alike regardlefs in the arms of Peace,

If these extol, or those debase a name.
In Lyttelton though all the mufes praife,

Nor the fweet magic of his tender lays
His generous praife fhall then delight no more,

Shall touch the bofom which it charm'd before.

Nor then, though Malice, with infidious guife

Of friendship, ope the unfufpe&ting breaft;
Nor then,though Envybroach her blackeninglies,
Shall thefe deprive me of a moment's rest.
O ftate to be defir'd! when hoftile rage

Prevails in human more than favage haunts;
When man with man eternal war will wage,

And never yield that mercy which he wants: When dark defign invades the cheerful hour,

And draws the heart with focial freedomwarm,
Its cares, its wishes, and its thoughts to pour,
Smiling infidious with the hopes of harm.
Vain man, to others' failings ftill fevere,

Yet not one foible in himself can find;
Another's faults to Folly's eyes are clear,

But to her own e'en Wifdom's felf is blind.
O let me ftill, from thefe low follies free,

This fordid malice, and inglorious ftrife, Myfelf the fubject of my cenfure be,

And teach my heart to comment on my life. With thee, Philofophy, ftill let me dwell,

My tutor'd mind from vulgar meanness fave; Bring Peace, bring Quiet to my humble cell, And bid them lay the green turf on my grave.

ELEGY III.

BRIGHTO'er the green hills rofe the morning ray,
The wood-lark's fong refounded on the plain;
Fair Nature felt the warm embrace of day,

And fmil'd through all her animated reign.
When young Delight, of Hope and Fancy born,
His head on tufted wild thyme half-reclin'd
Caught the gay colours of the orient morn,

And thence of life this picture vain defign'd:
"O born to thoughts, to pleafures more fublime
Than beings of inferior nature prove!
To triumph in the golden hours of Time,

And feel the charms of fancy and of love!

"High favour'd man! for him unfolding fair

In orient light this native landscape fmiles;
For him fweet Hope difarms the hand of Care,
Exalts his pleasures, and his grief beguiles.
"Blows not a blossom on the breast of Spring,
Breathes not a gale along the bending mead,
Trills not a fongfter of the foaring wing,
But fragrance, health and melody succeed.
O let me still with fimple nature live,
My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay,
Enjoy the bleffings that the meant to give,
And calmly wafte my inoffenfive day!
"No titled name, no envy-teafing dome,

No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave;
So Health and Peace be near my humble home,
A cool-ftream murmur, and a green tree wave.
"So may the sweet Euterpe not disdain

At Eve's chafte hour her filver lyre to bring;
The mufe of pity wake her foothing ftrain,
And tune to fympathy the trembling string.
"Thus glide the penfive moments o'er the vale
While floating thades of dufky night defcend:
Not left untold the lover's tender tale,

Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend.
"To love and friendship flow the social bowl!
To attic wit and elegance of mind;
To all the native beauties of the foul,

The fimple charms of truth, and sense refin'd! "Then to explore whatever antient fage

Studious from nature's early volume drew, To trace sweet Fiction through her golden age, And mark how fair the fun-flower, Science, blew!

"Haply to catch some spark of eaften fire, Hefperian fancy, or Aonian ease;

Some melting note from Sappho's tender lyre,

Some strain that Love and Phoebus taught to please. "When waves the grey light o'er the mountain's head,

Then let me meetthe morn's first beauteous ray: Carelessly wander from my fylvan fhed,

And catch the sweet breath of the rifing day. "Nor feldom, loit'ring as I mufe along, Mark from what flower the breeze its fweet

nefs bore;

Or liften to the labour-foothing fong
Of bees that range the thymy uplands o'er.
"Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow,
The green height gain'd, in mufeful rapturelie,

Sleep to the murmur of the woods below,

Or look on nature with a lover's eye.

Delightful hours! O, thus for ever flow;
Led by fair Fancy round the varied year:
So fhall my breast with native raptures glow,
Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear.
"Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth,
Nor vainly wander from their dictates fage;
So Joy fhall triumph on the brows of youth,
So hope thall fmooth the dreary paths of age."

ELEGY IV.

OH! yet, ye dear, deluding visions, stay!

Fond hopes, of Innocence and Fancy born
For you I'll caft these waking thoughts away,
For one wild dream of life's romantic morn.
Ah! no: the funshine o'er each object spread
Byflattering Hope, the flowers that blew fo fain
Like the gay gardens of Armida fled,

And vanish'd from the powerful rod of Car
So the poor pilgrim, who in rapturous though
Plans his dear journey to Loretto's thrine,
Seems on his way by guardian feraphs brough
Sees aiding angels favour his defign.
Ambrofial bloffoms, fuch of old as blew
By those fresh fonts on Eden's happy plain,
And Sharon's rofes all his paffage ftrew:
So Fancy dreams; but Fancy's dreamsarevair
Wafted and weary on the mountain's fide,

His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies,
Or takes fome ruthlefs robber for his guide,
And prone beneath his cruel fabre dies.
Life's morning landscape gilt with orient ligh
Where Hope and Joy and Fancy hold the
reign,

The grove's greenwave,the blue stream sparkli bright,

[wai

The blythe hours dancing round Hyperion In radiant colours Youth's free hand portrays Then holds the flattering tablet to his eye Nor thinks how foon the vernal grove decay Nor fees the dark cloud gathering o'er the Hence Fancy, conquer'd by the dart of Pain And wandering far from her Platonic shad Mourns o'er the ruins of her tranfient reign Nor unrepining fees her visions fade. Their parent banish'd, hence her children fly The fairy race that fill'd her feftive train: Joy tears his wreath, and Hope inverts her e And Folly wonders that her dream was va

WHILE you, my Lord, the rural fhades admi
And from Britannia's public pofts retire,
Nor longer, her ungrateful fons to please,
Me into foreign realms my fate conveys,
For their advantage facrifice your ease;
Through nations fruitful of immortal lays,
Where the foft feafon and inviting clime
Confpire to trouble your repofe with rhyme.

For wherefoe'er I turn my ravith'd eyes,
Gay gilded fcenes and thining profpects rife
Poetic fields encompass me around,
And ftill I feem to tread on claffic ground;
For here the Mufe fa oft her harp has ftrung
That not a mountain rears its head unfung
Renown'd in verfe each fhady thicket grows
And ev'ry ftream in heavenly numbers flow

How am I pleas'd to fearch the hills and woods | Where the old Romans deathless acts difplay'd

For rifing springs and celebrated floods!
To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course,
And trace the smooth Clitumnus to his fource,
To fee the Mincio draw his wat'ry ftore
Through the long windings of a fruitful shore,
And hoary Albula's infected tide
O'er the warm bed of fmoking fulphur glide.
Fir'd with a thousand raptures I furvey
Eridanus through flow'ry meadows ftray,
The king of foods! that rolling o'er the plains,
The towing Alps of half their moisture drains,
And, proudly (woln with a whole winter's (nows,
Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows.
Sometimes, mifguided by the tuneful throng,
Look for ftreams immortaliz'd in song,
That loft in filence and oblivion lie

Dumb are their fountains, and their channels
dry,)

Their bafe degen'rate progeny upbraid;
Whole rivers here fortake the fields below,
And, wond'ring at their height, through airy

channels flow.

Still to new scenes my wand'ring Muse retires,
And the dumb fhow of breathing rocks admires;
Where the fmooth chifel all its force has fhewn,
And foften'd into flefh the rugged stone.
In folemn filence, a majestic band,
Heroes, and gods, and Roman confuls, frand;
Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown,
And emperors, in Parian marble frown;
While the bright dames, to whom they humbly
fred,

Tet run for ever by the Muse's skill,
And in the fmooth defcription murmur ftill.
Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire,
had the fam'd river's empty thores admire,
destitute of ftrength, derives its course
Fifty urns and an unfruitful fource;
Yg to often in poetic lays,
Warn the Danube and the Nile furveys;
Sthe deathlefs muse exalts her theme!
Sad the Boyne, a poor inglorious ftream
Hibernian vales obfcurely ftray'd,
An unbferv'd in wild meanders play'd,
your lines and Naffau's fword renown'd,
ing billows through the world refound;
Wer the hero's godlike acts can pierce,
Or the fame of an immortal verse.
Cad the Mufe my ravifh'd breaft infpire
With like yours, and raife an equal fire.
aberd beauties in my verfe fhould fhine,
And Virgil's Italy thould yield to mine!

the golden groves around me fmile, at fun the coaft of Britain's ftormy ifle, tranfplanted and preferv'd with care, the cold clime, and starve in northern air. kindly warmth their mountain juice ter

ments

nobler taftes, and more exalted fcents;
the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
trodden weeds fend out a rich perfume.

Still fhew the charms that their proud hearts fubdued.

Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And fhew th' immortal labours in my verse, Where, from the mingled strength of shade and light,

me, fome God, to Baia's gentle feats; Tver me in Umbria's green retreats; e weftern gales eternally refide, all the feafons lavith all their pride; sums, and fruits, and flow'rs together rife, the whole year in gay confufion lies. Immortal glories in my mind revive, in my foul a thousand paffions ftrive, en Rome's exalted beauties I defcry Aricent in piles of ruin lie. amphitheatre's amazing height

A new creation rifes to my fight;

Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with life his blended colours glow,
From theme to theme with fecret pleasures toft,
Amidst the foft variety I'm loft.

Here pleafing airs my ravishd foul confound
With circling notes and labyrinths of found;
Here domes and temples rife in distant views,
And op'ning palaces invite my Mufe.

fills my eye with terror and delight, on its public fhows unpeopled Rome, & 1 held uncrowded nations in its womb; pillars rough with sculpture pierce the fkies; Where the proud triumphal arches rise,

How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land,
And fcatter'd bleffings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhaufted stores,
Her blooming mountains, and her funny fhores,
With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart,
The fmiles of nature and the charms of art,
While proud Oppreffion in her valleys reigns,
And Tyranny ufurps her happy plains?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain
The redd'ning orange and the fwelling grain;
Joylefs he fees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant fhade repines;
Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curft,
And in the loaded vineyard dies for thirst.
Oh Liberty, thou goddef's heavenly bright,
Profufe of blifs, and pregnant with delight!
Eternal pleatures in thy prefence reign,
And filing Plenty leads the wanton train;
Eas'd of her load, Subjection grows more light,
And Poverty looks cheerful in thy fight;
Thou mak'it the gloomy face of Nature gay,
Giv'ft beauty to the Sun, and pleasure to the Day.

Thee, goddess, thee Britannia's ifle adores;
How has the oft exhausted all her stores,
How oft, in fields of death, thy prefence fought,
Nor thinks the mighty prize too dea ly bought!
On foreign mountains may the fun refine
The grape's foft juice, and mellow it to wine;
With citron groves adern a diftant foil,
And the fat olive fwell with floods of oil;
We envy not the warmer clime, that lies
In ten degrees of more indulgent fkies;
Nor at the coarfenefs of cur heaven repine,
Tho' o'er our beads the frozen Pleiads fhine:

'Tis