And you who tho' by the rude torrent borne Unwillingly along, you yield with pain To his behefts, and act what you difdain, "Yet nourish in your hearts the gen'rous love "Of piety and truth, no more restrain "The manly zeal, but all your finews move "The prefent to reclaim, the future race im66 prove.

"Fftfcons by your joint efforts fhall be quell'd "Yon haughty giant, who fo proudly sways "A fceptre by repute alone upheld, "Who where he cannot dictate straight obeys: "Accuftom'd to conform his flatt'ring phrale "To numbers and hight-plac'd authority "Your party he will join, your maxims praife, And, drawing after all his menial fry,

Soon teach the gen'ral voice your act to ratify. "Ne for th' atchievement of this great emprize "The want of means or counsel may ye dread; From my twin-daughters' fruitful wombs fhal! “A race of letter'd fages deeply read [rife In learning's various writ, by whom vled "Thro' each well-cultur'd plot, each beauteous “grove,

"Where antic wifdom whilom wont to tread, "With mingled glue and profit may ye rove, "And cull each virtuous plant, each tree of “knowledge prove. "Yourselves with virtue thus and knowledge "fraught,

"Of what in ancient days of good or great "Hiftorians, bards, philofophers, have taught, "Join'd with whatever elfe of modern date "Maturer judgment, fearch more accurate, "Discover'd have of Nature, Man and God, "May by new laws reform the time-worn ftate "Of cell-bred difcipline, and imoothe the road "That leads thro' learning's vale to wifdom's "bright abode.

"By you invited to her fecret bow'rs, ・・ "Then fhall Pædia re-afcend her throne, “With vivid laurels girt and fragrant flow'rs; "While from their forked mount defcending down "Yon fupercilious pedant train fhall own "Her empire paramount, ere long by her "Ytaught a leflon in their fchools unknown, "To learning's richest treasure to prefer "The knowledge of the world and man's great "bufinefs there.

"On this prime fcience, as the final end "Of all her difcipline and nurt'ring care, "Her eye Padia fixing, aye fhall bend "Her ev'ry thought and effort to prepare "Her tender pupils for the various war "Which vice and folly thall upon them wage "As on the perilous march of life they fate,

With prudent lore fore-arming ev'ry age "'Gaint Pleafure's treach'rous joys and Pain's "embattled rage.

"Then fhall my youthful fons, to wifdom led "By fair example and ingenuous praite,

With willing feet the paths of duty tread,

7

Fir'd with th' idea of her future fame,
She rofe majestic from her lowly ftead,
While from her vivid eyes a fparkling flame
Outbeaming, with unwonted light o'erfpread
That monumental pile, and, as her head
To ev'ry front the turn'd, difcover'd round
The venerable forms of heroes dead,
Who for their various merit, erft renown'd,
In this bright fane of glory thrines of honour found.
On thefe that royal dame her ravifh'd eyes
Would often feaft; and ever as fhe fpied [rife,
Forth from the ground the length'ning ftructure
With new-plac'd ftatues deck'd on ev'ry fide,
Her parent breaft would fwell with gen'rous pride.
And now with her in that fequefter'd plain
The knight a while conftraining to abide,
She to the Fairy youth with pleafure fain
Thofe fculptur'd chiefs did fhew, and their great
lives explain.

E'en late when Radcliffe's delegated train Aufpicious fhone in Ifis' happy plain; [thrine, When yon proud" dome, fair learning's ampleft Beneath its attic roofs receiv'd the Nine; Was rapture mute, or ceas'd the glad acclaim, To Radcliffe due, and Ifis' honour'd name? What free-born crowds adorn'd the festive day, Nor blush'd to wear my tributary bay! How each brave breaft with honeft ardours heav'd, When Sheldon's fane the patriot band receiv'd; While, as we loudly hail'd the chosen few, Rome's awful fenate rush'd upon the view!

O may the day in lateft annals fhine, That made a Beaufort and an Harley mine; That bade them leave the loftier fcene awhile, The pomp of guiltlefs ftate, the patriot toil, For bleeding Albion's aid the fage defign, To hold fhort dalliance with the tuneful Nine! Then mufic left her filver fphere on high, And bore cach strain of triumph from the sky; Swell'd the loud fong, and to my chiefs around Pour'd the full peans of mellifluous found. My Naiads blythe the dying accents caught, And liftening danced beneath their pearly grot: In gentler eddies play'd my confcious wave, And all my reeds their fofteft whispers gave; Each lay with brighter green adorn'd my bow'rs, And breath'd a fresher fragrance on my flow'rs.

But lo! at once the pealing concerts ceafe, And crowded theatres are hufh'd in peace. See, on yon fage how all attentive ftand, To catch his parting eye, and waving hand. Hark! he begins, with all a Tully's art, To pour the dictates of a Cato's heart. Skill'd to pronounce what nobleft thoughts infpire, He blends the fpeaker's with the patriot's fire; Bold to conceive, nor tim'rous to conceal, What Britons dare to think he dares to tell. 'Tis his alike the car and eyes to charm, To win with action, and with fenfe to warm. Untaught in flow'ry periods to difpenfe The lulling founds of fweet impertinence: In frowns or files he gains an equal prize, Nor meanly fears to fall, nor creeps to rife; Bids happier days to Aibion be reftor'd, Bids ancient juftice rear her radiant fword ; From me, as from my country, claims applause, And makes an Oxford's a Britannia's caufe.

In vain the foreft lent its ftatclicft pride,
Rear'd her tall maft, and fram'd her knotty fide;
The martial thunder's rage in vain the ftood,
With ev'ry conflict of the ftormy flood;
More fure the reptile's little arts devour
Than wars, or waves, or Eurus' wint'ry pow'r.

Ye fretted pinnacles, ye fanes fublime,
Ye tow`rs that wear the inoffy veft of time !
Ye maffy piles of old munificence,
At once the pride of learning and defence;
Ye cloifters pale, that length'ning to the fight
To contemplation, step by step, invite;

Ye high-arch'd walks, where oft the whispers

clear

While arms like thefe my ftedfaft fages wield, While mine is Truth's impenetrable fhield; Say, thall the puny champion fond y dare To wage with force like this fcholaftic war? Still vainly fcribble on with pert pretence, With all the rage of pedant impotence? Say, fhall I fofter this domeftic pest, This parricide, that wounds a mother's breaft? Thus in fome gallant fhip, that long has bore Britain's victorious cross from fhore to thore, By chance, beneath her close sequefter'd cells Some low-born worm, a lurking mifchief dwells; Eats his blind way, and faps with fecret guile The deep foundations of the floating pile.

Of harps unfeen have fwept the poet's ear;
Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays
Ifer holy hymns of ever-echoing praife;
Lo! your lov'd Ifis, from the bord'ring vale,
With all a mother's fondnefs bids you hail !-
Hail, Oxford, hail! of all that 's good and great,
Of all that's fair, the guardian and the feat;
Nurfe of each brave purfuit, cach gen'rous aim,
By truth exalted to the throne of fame!
Like Greece in fcience and in liberty,.
As Athens learn'd, as Lacedemon free!

Ev'n now, confefs'd to my adoring eyes, In awful ranks thy gifted fons arife. Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds, Thy genuine bards immortal Chaucer leads: His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing quire, And beams on all around celeftial fire. With graceful ftp fee Addifon advance, The fweeteft child of Attic elegance : See Chillingworth the depths of doubt explore, And Selden ope the rolls of ancient lore: To all but his belov'd einbrace deny'd, See Locke lead Reafon, his majestic bride: See Hammond pierce religion's golden mine, And spread the treafur'd itores of Truth divine.

All who to Albion gave the arts of peace, And beft the labours plann'd of letter'd eafe; Who taught with truth, or with perfuafion mov'd, Who footh'd with numbers, or with fenfe improv'd; Who rang'd the pow'rs of reafon, or refin'd All that adorn'd or humaniz'd the mind; Each priest of health, that mix'd the balmy bowl, To rear frail man, and ftay the fleeting foul; All crowd around, and, echoing to the sky, Hail, Oxford, hail! with filial tranfport cry.

And fee yon fapient train! with lib'ral aim, 'Twas theirs new plans of liberty to frame; And on the gothic gloom of flavish way To fhed the dawn of intellectual day. With mild debate cach mufing feature glows, And well-weigh'd counfels mark their meaning brows.

"Lo! thefe the leaders of thy patriot line,"
A Raleigh, Hamden, and a Somers fhine.
Thefe from thy fource the bold contagion caught,
Their future fons the great example taught:
While in each youth th' hereditary flame
Still blazes, upextinguith'd, and the fame !

Nor all the tasks of thoughtful peace engage, 'Tis thine to form the hero as the fage. I fee the fable-fuited prince advance With lilies crown'd, the spoils of bleeding France, Edward. The Mufes in yon cloister's fhade Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade: Bade him the fteel for British freedom draw; And Oxford taught the deeds that Creffy faw.

land.

And fee, great father of the facred band, The Patriot King before me feems to ftand. He, by the bloom of this gay vale beguil'd, That cheer'd with lively green the fhaggy wild, Hither of yore, forlorn for gotten maid, The Mufe in prattling infancy convey'd; From Vandal rage the helpless virgin bore, And fix'd her cradle on my friendly fhore: Soon grew the maid beneath his foft'ring hand, Soon ftream'd her bleifings o'er the enlighten'd Though fimple was the dome, where firft to dwell She deign'd, and rude her early Saxon cell, Lo! now the holds her state in fculptur'd bow'rs, And proudly lifts to heaven her hundred tow'rs. 'Twas Alfred firft, with letters and with laws, Adorn'd, as he advanced, his country's caufe: He bade relent the Briton's ftubborn foul, And footh'd to foft fociety's controul A rough untutor'd age. With raptur'd eye Elate he views his laurel'd progeny: Serene he fmiles to find, that not in vain He form'd the rudiments of learning's reign: Himself he marks in each ingenuous breast, With all the founder in the race exprefs'd; Confcious he fees fair Freedom ftill furvive In yon bright domes, ill-fated fugitive! (Glorious, as when the Goddess pour'd the beam Unfully'd on his ancient diadem) Well pleas'd, that at his own Pierian fprings She refts her weary feet, and plumes her wings; That here at laft the takes her deftin'd ftand, Here deigns to linger ere the leave the land.

§ 62. Infeription in a Hermitage, at Anfley-Hall, in Warwick/bire. T. WARTON.

BENEATH this ftony roof reclin'd,

I footh to peace my penfive mind: And while, to fhade my lowly cave, Embow'ring elms their umbrage wave; And while the maple difh is mine, The beechen cup, unftain'd with wine; I fcorn the gay licentious crowd, Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. Within my limits lone and still, The blackbird pipes in artless trill Faft by my couch, congenial guest, The wren has wove her moffy neft; From bufy fcenes and brighter skies, To lurk with innocence, the flies; Here hopes in fafe repofe to dwell, Nor aught fufpects the fylvan cell.

At morn I take my cuftom'd round,
To mark how buds you fhrubby mound;
And ev'ry op'ning primrose count
That trimly paints my blooming mount:
Or o'er the fculptures, quaint and rude,
That grace my gloomy folitude,
I teach in winding wreaths to ftray
Fantastic ivy's gadding spray.

At eve, within yon ftudious nook,
I ope my brafs-emboffed book,
Pourtray'd with many a holy deed
Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed:
Then, as my taper waxes dim,
Chant, ere I fleep, my meafur'd hymn;
And, at the close, the gleams behold
Of parting wings bedropt with gold.
Who but would fmile at guilty ftate?
While fuch pure joys my blifs create,
Who but would with his holy lot
In calm Oblivion's humble grot?
Who but would caft his pomp away,
To take my staff and amice gray;
And to the world's tumultuous stage
Prefer the blameless hermitage?

§ 63. Monody, written near Stratford up

Avon. T. WARTON.

AVON, thy rural views, thy pastures wild,

The willows that o'erhang thy twilight edge, Their boughs entangling with th' embattled fedge;

Thy brink with wat'ry foliage quaintly fring'd,
Thy furface with reflected verdure ting'd,
Sooth me with many a penfive pleasure mild.
But while I mufe, that here the bard divine
Whofe facred duft yon high-arch'd aifles inclofe,
Where the tall windows rife in ftately rows
Above th' embow'ring fhade,
Here first, at Fancy's fairy-circled shrine,
Of daifies pied his infant off'ring made;
Here playful yet, in tripling years unripe,
Fram'd of thy reeds a thrill and artless pipe:
Sudden thy beauties, Avon, all are fled,
As at the waving of fome magic wand;
An holy trance any charmed fpirit wings,
And awful thapes of warriors and of kings
People the bufy mead,

Like fpe&tres fwarming to the wizard's hall; And flowly pace, and point with trembling hand The wounds ill-cover'd by the purple pail. Before me Pity feems to stand

A weeping mourner, fmote with anguish fore,
To fee Misfortune rend in frantic mood
His robe with regal woes embroider ́d o'er.
Pale Terror leads the vifionary band,
And sternly thakes his fceptre, dropping blood.