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Led by their winged genius and the choir
Of laurell'd Science and harmonious Art,
Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine,
Where Truth confpicuous with her fifter-twins,
The undivided partners of her sway,
With Good and Beauty reigns. O let not us,
Lull'd by luxurious Pleafure's languid ftrain,
Or crouching to the frowns of Bigot-rage,
O let us not a moment paufe to join
That godlike band. And if the gracious power
Who firft awaken'd my untutor'd fong,
Will to my invocation breathe anew
The tuneful fpirit; then through all our paths
Ne'er thall the found of this devoted lyre
Be wanting: whether on the rofy mead,.
When fummer fmiles, to warn the melting heart
Of Luxury's allurement; whether firm
Against the torrent and the ftubborn hill
To urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve,
And wake the strong divinity of foul
That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck
For founds of triumph, to proclaim her toils
Upon the lofty fummit, round her brow
To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise;
To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds,
And blofs heaven's image in the heart of man.
Thus with a faithful aim have we prefum'd,
Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form;
Whether in yast, majestic pomp array'd,
Or dreft for pleafing wonder, or ferene
In beauty's rofy finile. It now remains,
Through various being's fair-proportion'd scale,
To trace the rifing luftre of her charms,
From their first twilight, fhining forth at length
To full meridian fplendour. Of degree
The leaft and lowlieft, in the effufive warmth
Of colours mingling with a random blaze,
Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line
And variation of determin'd fhape,
Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound
Of circle, cube, or fphere. The third afcent
Unites this varied fymmetry of parts
With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl
Shines in the concave of its azure bed,
And painted fhells indent their fpeckled wreath,
Then more attractive rife the bloming forms
Through which the breath of Nature has infus'd
Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins
Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth,
In fruit and feed prolific: thus the flowers
Their purple honours with the fpring refume;
And fuch the stately tree which autumn bends
With blushing treafures. But more lovely still
Is Nature's charm, where to the full confent
Of complicated members, to the bloom
Of colour, and the vital change of growth,
Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given,
And active motion fpeaks the temper'd foul:
So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed
With rival ardour beats the dufty plain,
And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy
Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell
There moft confpicuous, even in outward fhape,
Where dawns the high expreffion of a mind:

By steps conducting our enraptur'd search
To that eternal origin, whofe power,
Through all the unbounded fymmetry of things,
Like rays effulging from the parent fun,
This endless mixture of her charms diffus'd.
Mind, mind alone (bear witnefs, earth and

The living fountains in itself contains

Of beauteous and fublime: here hand in hand
Sit paramount the Graces; here enthron'd,
Cœleftial Venus, with divineft airs,
Invites the foul to never-fading joy.
Look then abroad through nature, to the range
Of planets, funs, and adamantine fpheres
Wheeling unfhaken through the void immense;
And fpeak, O man! does this capacious fcene
With half that kindling majefty dilate
Thy ftrong conception, as when Brutus rofe
Refulgent from the stroke of Cæfar's fate,
Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm
Aloft extending, like eternal Jove
When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud
On Tully's name, and fhook his crimson fteel,
And bade the father of his country, hail!
For lo! the tyrant proftrate on the duft,
And Rome again is free! Is aught fo fair
In all the dewy landscapes of the fpring,
In the bright eye of Helper or the morn,
In nature's faireft forms, is aught fo fair
As virtuous friendfhip? as the candid blush
Of him who strives with fortune to be just?
The graceful tear that streams for others' woes
Or the mild majefty of private life,
Where Peace with ever-blooming olive crowns
The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effufe
Unenvied treasures, and the fnowy wings
Of Innocence and Love protect the scene?
Once more fearch, undismay'd, the dark profound
Where Nature works in fecret; view the beds
Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault
That bounds the hoary ocean: trace the forms
Of atoms moving with inceffant change
Their elemental round; behold the feeds
Of beings, and the energy of life
Kindling the mafs with ever-active flame:
Then to the fecrets of the working mind.
Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call
Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go!
Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the

That faw the heavens created; then declare
If aught were found in thofe external scenes
To move thy wonder now.
For what are all
The forms which brute, unconscious matter


Greatness of bulk, or fymmetry of parts?
Not reaching to the heart, foon feeble grows --
The fuperficial impulfe; dull their charms,
And fatiate foon, and pall the languid eye.
Not fo the moral fpecies, nor the powers
Of genius and defign; the ambitious mind
There fees herself: by thefe congenial forms
Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenfer act
She bends each nerve, and meditates well-pleas'd


Her features in the mirror. For of all
The inhabitants of earth, to man alone
Creative Wildom gave to lift his eye
To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame
The facred laws of action and of will,
Difcerning juftice from unequal deeds,
And temperance from folly. But beyond
This energy of truth, whofe dictates bind
Affenting reafon, the benignant fire,

To deck the honour'd paths of just and good,
Has added bright Imagination's rays:
Where Virtue, rifing from the awful depth
Of Truth's myfterious bofom, doth forfake
The unadorn'd condition of her birth;
And drefs'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues,
Affumes a various feature, to attract,

With charms refponfive to each gazer's eye,
The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk,
The ingenuous youth, whom folitude infpires
With pureft withes, from the penfive fhade
Beholds her moving, like a virgin-mufe
That wakes her lyre to fome indulgent theme
Of harmony and wonder: while among
The herd of fervile minds, her ftrenuous form
Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye,
And through the rolis of memory appeals
To ancient honour, or in act forene,
Yet watchful, raises the majestic fword
Of public power, from dark Ambition's reach
To guard the facred volume of the laws.

Genius of ancient Greece! whofe faithful steps
Well-pleas'd I follow through the facred paths
Of nature and of science; nurse divine
Of all heroic deeds and fair defires!
✪! let the breath of thy extended praise
Infpire my kindling bofom to the height
Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts
Prefumptuous counted, if amid the calm
That fooths this vernal evening into fimiles,
1 fteal impatient from the fordid haunts
Of Strife and low Ambition, to attend
Thy facred prefence in the fylvan fhide,
By their malignant footsteps ne'er profan'd.
Defcend, propitious! to my favour'd eye;
Such in thy mien, thy warin, exalted air,
As when the Perfian tyrant, foil'd and ftung
With shame and defperation, gnash'd his teeth
To fee thee rend the pageants of his throne;
And at the lightning of thy lifted fpear
Crouch'd like a flave. Bring all thy martial fpoils,
Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal fongs,
Thy finiling band of arts, thy godlike fires
Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth
Warm from the fchools of glory. Guide my way
Through fair Lyceum's walk, the green retreats
Of Academus, and the thymy vale,
Where oft enchanted with Socratic founds,
Iliffus pure devolv'd his tuneful stream
In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store
Of thefe aufpicious fields, may I unblam'd
Tranfplant fome living bloffoins to adorn
My native clime: while far above the flight
Of Fancy's plume afpiring, I unlock
The fprings of ancient wifdom, while I join

Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal


Of Nature, while to my compatriot youth
point the high example of thy fons,
And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.

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the barn the tenant Cock,
Clofe to Partlet perch'd on high,
Brifkly crows (the shepherd's clock !)
Jocund that the morning 's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire:
And the peeping fun-beam, now,
Paints with gold the village fpire.
Philomel forfakes the thorn,

Plaintive where the prates at night;
And the Lark, to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the shepherd's fight.
From the low-roof'd cottage ridge,

See the chatt'ring Swallow (pring;
Darting through the one-arch'd bridge
Quick the dips her dappled wing.
Now the pine-tree's waving top
Gently greets the morning gale:
Kidlings, now, begin to crop

Dailies, in the dewy dale.
From the balmy fweets, uncloy'd,
(Reflefs till her task be done)
Now the bufy Bee's employ'd
Sipping dew before the fun.
Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid ftream diftills,
Sweet refreshment waits the flock
When 'tis fun-drove from the hills.
Colin, for the promis'd corn

(Ere the harveft hopes are ripe)
Anxious. hears the huntfman's born,
Boldly founding, drown his pipe.
Sweet,-O fwect, the warbling throng,
On the white embloffom'd ipray!
Nature's univerfal fong

Echoes to the rifing day.


FERVID on the glitt'ring flood,

Now the noon-tide radiance glows:
Drooping o'er its infant bud,

Not a dew-drop 's left the rofe.
By the brook the shepherd dines;


From the fierce meridian heat
Shelter'd by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his graffy feat.
Now the flock forfakes the glade,
Where, uncheck'd, the fun-beams fall,
Sure to find a pleafing fhade
By the ivy'd abbey wall.


Echo in her airy round,

O'er the river, rock and hill, Cannot catch a single sound,

Save the clack of yonder mill. Cattle court the zephyrs bland,

Where the ftreamlet wanders cool; Or with languid filence ftand Midway in the marshy pool.

But from mountain, dell, or stream,
Not a futt'ring zephyr springs:
Fearful left the noon-tide beam
Scorch its foft, its filken wings.
Not a leaf has leave to stir,
Nature's lull'd-ferene-and still;
Quiet e'en the fhepherd's cur,

Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.
Languid is the landscape round,
Till the fresh defcending fhower,
Grateful to the thirsty ground,

Raifes ev'ry fainting flower. Now the hill-the hedge-is green, Now the warblers' throats in tune! Blithfome is the verdant scene,

Brighten'd by the beams of Noon!


O'ER the heath the heifer ftrays
Free;-(the furrow'd talk is done)
Now the village windows blaze,
Burnish'd by the fetting fun.
Now he hides behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden fky:
Can the pencil's mimic skill
Copy the refulgent dye ?
Trudging as the ploughmen go,
(To the fmoking hamlet bound)
Giant-like their fhadows grow,

Lengthen'd o'er the level ground.
Where the rising forest spreads,
Shelter for the lordly dome!
To their high-built airy beds

See the rooks returning home! As the Lark, with vary'd tune, Carols to the evening loud; Mark the mild refplendent moon' Breaking through a parted cloud! Now the hermit Howlet peeps

From the barn, or twisted brake: And the blue mift flowly creeps, Curling on the filver lake. As the Trout, in speckled pride, Playful from its bofom fprings; To the banks a ruffied tide Verges in fucceffive rings. Tripping through the filken grafs, O'er the path-divided dale, Mark the rofe-complexion'd lafs, With her well-pois'd milking-pail.

Linnets, with unnumber'd notes, And the Cuckow bird with two, Tuning fweet their mellow throats, Bid the fetting fun adieu.

§ 37. The Contemplatift: a Night Piece. CUNNINGHAM,,

66 Nox erat

"Cum tacet omnis ager, pecudes, pictaeque volucres. "

THE Queen of Contemplation, Night,
Begins her balmy reign;
Advancing in their varied light
Her filver-vefted train.

'Tis ftrange, the many marshal'd stars,
That ride yon facred round,
Should keep, among their rapid cars,
A filence fo profound!

A kind, a philofophic calm

The cool creation wears!

And what Day drank of dewy balın,
The gentle Night repairs.
Behind their leafy curtains hid,

The feather'd race how ftill!
How quiet now the gamefome kid,
That gambol'd round the hill!

The fweets, that bending o'er their banks,
From fultry Day declin'd,
Revive in little velvet ranks,

And scent the western wind.

The Moon, preceded by the breeze
That bade the clouds retire,
Appcars among the tufted trees,
A Phoenix neft on fire.

But foft-the golden glow fubfides !
Her chariot mounts on high!
And now, in filver'd pomp, the rides
Pale regent of the sky!

Where Time upon the wither'd tree
Hath carv'd the moral chair,

I fit, from bufy paffions free,

And breathe the placid air.
The wither'd tree was once in prime;
Its branches brav'd the sky!
Thus, at the touch of ruthlefs Time,
Shall Youth and Vigour die.
I'm lifted to the blue expanfe:
It glows ferenely gay!
Come, Science, by my
fide advance,
We'll fearch the Milky Way.
Let us defcend-The daring flight
Fatigues my feeble mind;
And Science, in the maze of light,
Is impotent and blind.

What are those wild, those wand'ring fires,
That o'er the moorland ran?
Vapours.-How like the vague defires
That cheat the heart of Man!
But there's a friendly guide!-a flame,
That, lambent o'er its bed,
Enlivens, with a glad fome beam,

The hermit's ofier shed.


Among the ruffet fhades of night,

It glances from afar!
And darts along the dufk; fo bright,
It feems a filver ftar!

In coverts (where the few frequent)
If Virtue deigns to dwell.
'Tis thus, the little lamp, Content,
Gives luftre to her cell.

How smooth that rapid river flides
Progreffive to the deep!
The poppies, pendent o'er its fides,
Have charm'd the waves to fleep.
Pleafure's intoxicated fons!

Ye indolent! ye gay!
Reflect-for, as the river runs,
Life wings its trackless way.

That branching grove of dufky green
Conceals the azure sky;
Save where a ftarry space between
Relieves the darken'd eye.

Old Error, thus, with fhades impure,
Throws facred Truth behind:

Yet fometimes, through the deep obfcure,
She burfts upon the mind.

Sleep, and her fifter Silence reign,
They lock the Shepherd's fold!
But hark- hear a lamb complain,
'Tis loft upon the wold!

To favage herds, that hunt for prey,
An unrefifting prize!
For having trod a devious way,
The httle rambler dies.

As luckle's is the Virgin's lot,

Whom pleasure once mifguides:
When hurried from the halcyon cot,
Where Innocence prefides-
The paffions, a relentless train!
To tear the victim run:
She feeks the path of peace in vain,
Is conquer'd and undone.
How bright the little infects blaze,
Where willows fhade the way;
As proud as if their painted rays
Could emulate the Day!

'Tis thus the pigmy fons of pow'r
Advance their vain parade!
Thus glitter in the darken'd hour,
And like the glow-worms fade!
The foft ferenity of night

Ungentle clouds deform!
The filver hoft that fhone fo bright,
Is hid behind a ftorm!
The angry elements engage!

An oak (an ivied bower!)
Repels the rough wind's noify rage,
And shields me from the fhower.
The rancour, thus, of rufhing fate
I've learnt to render vaip:

For, whilft Integrity's her feat,

The foul will fit ferene.

A raven, from fome greedy vault, Amidst that cloister'd gloom, Bids me, and 'tis a folemn thought! Reflect upon the tomb.

The tomb!The confecrated dome!
The temple rais'd to Peace!
The port, that to its friendly home
Compels the human race!

Yon village, to the moral mind,
A folemn afpect wears;
Where fleep hath lull'd the labour'd hied,
And kill'd his daily cares:

'Tis but the church-yard of the Night;
An emblematic bed!

That offers to the mental fight

The temporary dead.

From hence, I'll penetrate, in thought,
The grave's unmeafur'd deep;
And tutor'd, hence, be timely taught
To meet my final fleep.

'Tis peace(The little chaos past !)
The gracious moon restor'd !

A breeze fucceeds the frightful blast,
That through the foreft roar'd!
The Nightingale, a welcome gueft!
Renews her gentle strains;

And Hope (juft wand'ring from my breaft)
Her wonted feat regains.

Yes-When yon lucid orb is dark,
And darting from on high;
My foul, a more celestial spark,
Shall keep her native sky.

Fann'd by the light, the lenient breeze,
My limbs refreshment find;
And moral chaplodies, like thefe,
Give vigour to the mind.

§ 38. The Visions of Fancy.


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HILDREN of Fancy, whither are ve filed? Where have you borne those Hope-enliven'₫ hours,

That once with myrtle garlands bound my head,
That once beftrew'd my vernal pathwith flowers?
In yon fair vale, where blooms the beechen grove,
Where winds the flow wave thro' the flowery

To these fond arms you led the tyrant, Love,
With Fear and Hope and Folly in his train.
My lyre, that, left at careless distance, hung
Light on fome pale branch of the offer fhade,
To lays of amorous blandifhment you frung,
And o'er my fleep the lulling mufic play d.
"Reft, gentle youth! while on the quivering

Slides to thine ear this foftly breathing ftrain;


Sounds that move fmoother than the fteps of eafe, There unregarded in the peaceful fhade,

And oblivion in the ear of pain.


In this fair vale eternal spring shall smile,

And Time unenvious crown each rofeate hour; Eternal joy thali every care beguile,

Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower. This filver ftream, that down its crystal way

Frequent has led thy mufing steps along, Shall, till the fame, in funny mazes play,

And with its murmurs melodife thy fong. Unfading green fhall these fair groves adorn ; Thofe living meads immortal flowers unfold; In rofy files thall rife each blufhing morn,

And every evening close in clouds of gold. The tender Loves that watch thy flumbering reft, And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles ftrew,

Shall charm, thro' all approaching life, thy breaft,
With joys for ever pure, for ever new.
The genial power that speeds the golden dart,
Each charm of tender paflion fhall infpire;
With fond affection fill the mutual heart,

And feed the flame of ever-young Delire. Come, gentle Loves! your myrtle garlands bring; The finiling bower with clufter'd rotes spread; Come, gentle Airs! with ineeafe-dropping wing The breathing fweets of vernal odour thed. Hark, as the ftrains of fwelling music rife,

How the notes vibrate on the fav`ring gale! Aufpicious glories beam along the fkies, And powers unfeen the happy moments hail! Ecftatic hours! fo every diftant day

Like this ferene on downy wings fhall move; Rife crown'd with joys that triumph o'er decay, The faithful joys of Fancy and of Love."

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AND were they vain, thofe foothing lays ye fung?
Children of Fancy! yes, your fong was vain;
On each soft air though rapt Attention hung,

And Silence liften'd on the fleeping plain.
The ftrains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear,
And ftill to fmile the mimic beauties feem,
Though now the vifionary fcenes appear

Like the faint traces of a vanish'd dream. Mirror of life! the glories thus depart

Of all that Youth and Love and Fancy frame,
When painful Anguifh fpeeds the piercing dart,
Or Envy blafts the blooming flowers of Fame.
Nurfe of wild wishes, and of fond defires,

The prophetess of Fortune, falfe and vain,
To fcenes where Peace in Ruin's arms expires
Fallacious Hope deludes her hapless train.
Go, Syren, gothy charms on others try;
My beaten bark at length has reach'd the shore;
Yet on the rock my dropping garments lie;
And let me perish, if I trust thee more.
Come, gentle Quiet! long-neglected maid!
O come, and lead me to thy moly cell;

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

And with thy foothing hand my weary eyelids


Then fhall the cares of love and glory cease,
And all the fond anxieties of fame;
Alike regardlefs in the arms of Peace,

If there extol, or thofe debafe a name.
In Lyttelton though all the mufes praife,
His generous praife fhall then delight no more,
Nor the weet magic of his tender lays

Shall touch the bofom which it charm'd before.
Nor then, though Malice, with infidious guife
Of friendthip, ope the unfufpecting breaft;
Nor then, though Envy broach hier blackening lies,
Shall thefe deprive me of a moment's reft.
ftate to be defie'd! when hoftile rage
Prevalis 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 freedom warm,
Its cares, its wifhes, and its thoughts to pour,
Smiling infidious with the hopes of harm.
Vain man, to other's failings ftill fevere,

Yet not one foible in himself can find;
Another's faults to Folly's eye are clear,
But to her own e'en Wifdom's felf is blind.
O let me ftill, from thefe low follies free,
This for did malice, and inglorious ftrife,
Myfelf the fubject of my cenfure be,

And teach my heart to comment on my life. With thee, Philosophy, still 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.


BRIGHT o'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 pleasures more fublime Than beings of inferior nature prove! To triumph in the golden hours of Time,

And feel the charins of fancy and of love!


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