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Where the dark poppy flourish'd on the dry
And sterile soil, and mock'd the thin-set rye.
"How lovely this!" the rapt Orlando said;
With what delight is labouring man repaid!
The very lane has sweets that all admire,
The rambling suckling and the vigorous brier;

See! wholesome wormwood grows beside the way,

Here a grave Flora* scarcely deigns to bloom,
Nor wears a rosy blush, nor sheds perfume;
The few dull flowers that o'er the place are spread,
Partake the nature of their fenny bed;
Here on its wiry stem, in rigid bloom,
Grows the salt lavender that lacks perfume;
Here the dwarf sallows creep, the septfoil harsh,
And the soft slimy mallow of the marsh;

Where dew-press'd yet the dog-rose bends the Low on the ear the distant billows sound,
spray;

Fresh herbs the fields, fair shrubs the banks adorn,
And snow-white bloom falls flaky from the thorn;
No fostering hand they need, no sheltering wall,
They spring uncultured, and they bloom for all."
The lover rode as hasty lovers ride,
And reach'd a common pasture wild and wide;
Small black-legg'd sheep devour with hunger keen
The meagre herbage, fleshless, lank, and lean;
Such o'er thy level turf, Newmarket! stray,
And there, with other black-legs find their prey:
He saw some scatter'd hovels, turf was piled
In
square brown stacks; a prospect bleak and wild!
A mill, indeed, was in the centre found,
With short sear herbage withering all around;
A smith's black shed opposed a wright's long shop,
And join'd an inn where humble travellers stop.

Ay, this is nature," said the gentle squire ;
This ease, peace, pleasure, who would not admire?
With what delight these sturdy children play,
And joyful rustics at the close of day;
Sport follows labour, on this even space
Will soon commence the wrestling and the race;
Then will the village maidens leave their home,
And to the dance with buoyant spirits come;
No affectation in their looks is seen,
Nor know they what disguise or flattery mean;
Nor aught to move an envious pang they see,
Easy their service, and their love is free;
Hence early springs that love, it long endures,
And life's first comfort, while they live, ensures;
They the low roof and rustic comforts prize,
Nor cast on prouder mansions envying eyes:
Sometimes the news at yonder town they hear,
And learn what busier mortals feel and fear;
Secure themselves, although by tales amazed,
Of towns bombarded, and of cities razed;
As if they doubted, in their still retreat,
The very news that makes their quiet sweet,
And their days happy; happier only knows
He on whom Laura her regard bestows."

On rode Orlando, counting all the while
The miles he pass'd, and every coming mile;
Like all attracted things, he quicker flies,
The place approaching where th' attraction lies;
When next appear'd a dam-so call the place-
Where lies a road confined in narrow space;
A work of labour, for on either side
level fen, a prospect wild and wide,
With dikes on either hand by ocean's self supplied:
Far on the right the distant sea is seen,
And salt the springs that feed the marsh between;
Beneath an ancient bridge, the straiten'd flood
Rolls through its sloping banks of slimy mud;
Near it a sunken boat resists the tide,
That frets and hurries to th' opposing side;
The rushes sharp, that on the borders grow,
Bend their brown flow'rets to the stream below,
Impure in all its course, in all its progress slow :

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And just in view appears their stony bound;
No hedge nor tree conceals the glowing sun,
Birds, save a watery tribe, the district shun,
Nor chirp among the reeds where bitter waters run
Various as beauteous, Nature, is thy face,"
Exclaim'd Orlando: "all that grows has grace
All are appropriate; bog, and marsh, and fen,
Are only poor to undiscerning men ;
Here may the nice and curious eye explore
How Nature's hand adorns the rushy moor;
Here the rare moss in secret shade is found,
Here the sweet myrtle of the shaking ground;
Beauties are these that from the view retire,
But well repay th' attention they require;
For these my Laura will her home forsake,
And all the pleasures they afford partake.”

Again the country was enclosed, a wide
And sandy road has banks on either side;
Where, lo! a hollow on the left appear'd,
And there a gipsy tribe their tent had rear'd ;
'Twas open spread, to catch the morning sun,
And they had now their early meal begun,
When two brown boys just left their grassy seat,
The early traveller with their prayers to greet:
While yet Orlando held his pence in hand,
He saw their sister on her duty stand;
Some twelve years old, demure, affected, sly,
Prepared the force of early powers to try;
Sudden a look of languor he descries,
And well-feign'd apprehension in her eyes;
Train'd, but yet savage, in her speaking face
He mark'd the features of her vagrant race;
When a light laugh and roguish leer express'd
The vice implanted in her youthful breast:
Forth from the tent her elder brother came,
Who seem'd offended, yet forbore to blame

*The ditches of a fen so near the ocean are lined with irregular patches of a coarse and stained lava; a muddy sediment rests on the horse-tail and other perennial herbs, which in part conceal the shallowness of the stream; a fat-leaved, pale-flowering scurvy grass, appears early in the year, and the razor-edged bulrush, in the summer and autumn. The fen itself has a dark and saline herbage; there are rushes and arrow-head, and in a few patches the flakes of the cotton grass are seen, but more commonly the sea-aster, the dullest of that numerous and hardy genus; a thrift, blue in flower, but withering and remaining withered, till the winter scatters it; the saltwort, both simple and shrubby; a few kinds of grass changed by their soil and atmosphere, and low plants of two or three denominations undistinguished in a general view of the scenery: such is the vegetation of the fen when it is at a small distance from the ocean; and in this case there arise from it effluvia strong and peculiar, half saline, half-putrid, which would be consi dered by most people as offensive, and by some as dangerous; but there are others to whom singularity of taste, or association of ideas, has rendered it agreeable and pleasant.

On ragged rug, just borrow'd from the bed,
And by the hand of coarse indulgence fed,
In dirty patchwork negligently dress'd,
Reclined the wife, an infant at her breast;
In her wild face some touch of grace remain'd,
Of vigour palsied and of beauty stain'd;
Her blood-shot eyes on her unheeding mate

Yes, I will see her, slight
What! in the very hour?
And doubtless chose it to i
Forth rode Orlando by a
Inland and winding, smoo
That roll'd majestic on, in

The bottom gravel, flower

Were wrathful turn'd, and seem'd her wants to Tall willows, waving in t

state,

Pursing his tardy aid-her mother there
With gipsy state engross'd the only chair;
Solemn and dull her look; with such she stands,
And reads the milk-maid's fortune in her hands,
Tracing the lines of life; assumed through years,
Each feature now the steady falsehood wears;
With hard and savage eye she views the food,
And grudging pinches their intruding brood;
Last in the group, the worn-out grandsire sits
Neglected, lost, and living but by fits;
Useless, despised, his worthless labours done,
And half protected by the vicious son,
Who half supports him; he with heavy glance
Views the young ruffians who around him dance;
And, by the sadness in his face, appears

To trace the progress of their future years:
Through what strange course of misery, vice.
deceit,

Must wildly wander each unpractised cheat.
What shame and grief, what punishment and pain,
Sport of fierce passions, must each child sustain-
Ere they like him approach their latter end,
Without a hope, a comfort, or a friend!

But this Orlando felt not; " Rogues," said he,
"Doubtless they are, but merry rogues they be ;
They wander round the land, and be it true,
They break the laws-then let the laws pursue
The wanton idlers; for the life they live
Acquit I cannot, but I can forgive."

This said, a portion from his purse was thrown,
And every heart seem'd happy like his own.

He hurried forth, for now the town was nigh-
"The happiest man of mortal men am I."
Thou art! but change in every state is near,

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The way is pleasant; will you come? Adieu!
Thy Laura!"--" No! I feel I must resign
The pleasing hope, thou hadst been here, if mine:
A lady was it? Was no brother there?
But why should I afflict me if there were ?"
"The way is pleasant."—" What to me the way?
I cannot reach her till the close of day.
My dumb companion! is it thus we speed?
Not I from grief nor thou from toil art freed;
Still art thou doom'd to travel and to pine,

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In this vile country but Woods! waters! mead 'Tis a vile prospect. G

Still on he rode! a m
Rose on his view-the
Spread o'er the park h
The full-fed steed, the
On a clear stream the
Through noble elms, a
That moving picture,
Th' attended children,
Enjoy'd and gave new
Whose happy parents
Pleased with the sport
"Well!" said Orlar
A thousand reasoning
Nay, these so seeming

rest:
Man is a cheat-and
Their inward misery
What do yon lofty ga
But fruitless means to
The parents read eac
Form'd to seduce, en
They view the boys
Sure to be tempted, s
These will be Laura

There's quilt ond

bees that ever stock'd a hive: ⚫ married, and the bells aloud their joy, and joyful seem'd the crowd; roceeding on his way, he spied, strong ties, the bridegroom and the

ne friends attended, near they drew, beheld them with prophetic view. I! nay, mad!" Orlando cried in scorn; vretch on this unlucky morn : his foolish mirth, these idle joys? stifle doubt and fear by noise : e robes, expressive of delight, istress, and only grief excite; se cheerful friends, will they behold ing brood in sickness, want, and cold; oud look, and her soft languid air [ spare you-go, unhappy pair!" approaching to the journey's end, ails, his thoughts to kindness tend, ended feels, and rather fears t' offend: rising, hope contends with doubt, i sunshine on the views without; viving joy and lingering gloom mpire o'er his soul assume; erplex'd, he now began to find thoughts engross the settling mind: › mansion, and should quickly see s self-and angry could he be ! sentment melted all away. my grief a single smile will pay," der cried; "and why should it offend, so good should have a pressing friend? my heart! to find a favourite guest and boast-ye selfish sorrows, rest; e kind, and I again be blest." entler passions thus his bosom sway'd, the mansion, and he saw the maid; ra!"-" My Orlando! this is kind; came persuaded, not inclined:

s' amusement let us now pursue,
norrow will return with you."

an entranced, the happy lover stood-
a wills, for she is kind and good:
ruest, gentlest, fairest, best-
wills, I see her and am blest."
went the lovers through that busy place,
Hall, the country's pride and grace;
h meadows where the oxen fed, [bed;
the green vale that form'd the river's
nnumber'd cottages and farms,

Or was there now dejection in the view?
Nor one or other would they yield-and why?
The mind was absent, and the vacant eye
Wander'd o'er viewless scenes, that but appear'd
to die.

TALE XI.

EDWARD SHORE.

Seem they grave or learned?

Why, so didst thou-Seem they religious?
Why, so didst thou; or are they spare in diet,
Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger,
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment,
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but with purged judgment trusting neither ?
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
Henry V. act ii. sc. 2.

Better I were distract,

So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
And woes by strong imagination lose
The knowledge of themselves.

Lear, act iv. sc. 6.

GENIUS! thou gift of Heaven! thou light divine!
Amid what dangers art thou doom'd to shine!
Oft will the body's weakness check thy force,
Oft damp thy vigour, and impede thy course;
And trembling nerves compel thee to restrain
Thy nobler efforts, to contend with pain;
Or Want (sad guest!) will in thy presence come,
And breathe around a melancholy gloom;
To life's low cares will thy proud thought confine,
And make her sufferings, her impatience, thine.
Evil and strong, seducing passions prey
On soaring minds, and win them from their way;
Who then to vice the subject spirits give,
And in the service of the conqueror live;
Like captive Samson making sport for all
Who fear'd their strength, and glory in their fall.
Genius, with virtue, still may lack the aid
Implored by humble minds and hearts afraid;
May leave to timid souls the shield and sword
Of the tried faith, and the resistless word;
Amid a world of dangers venturing forth,
Frail, but yet fearless, proud in conscious worth,
Till strong temptation, in some fatal time,
Assails the heart, and wins the soul to crime;
When left by honour, and by sorrow spent,

e for musing minds unnumber'd charms; Unused to pray, unable to repent,

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Boast of these friends, to older men a guide, Proud of his parts, but gracious in his pride, He bore a gay good nature in his face, And in his air were dignity and grace; Dress that became his state and years he wore, And sense and spirit shone in Edward Shore. Thus while admiring friends the youth beheld, His own disgust their forward hopes repell'd; For he unfix'd, unfixing, look'd around, And no employment but in seeking found; He gave his restless thoughts to views refined, And shrank from worldly cares with wounded mind.

Rejecting trade, a while he dwelt on laws, "But who could plead, if unapproved the cause?" A doubting, dismal tribe physicians seem'd ; Divines o'er texts and disputations dream'd; War and its glory he perhaps could love, But there again he must the cause approve.

Our hero thought no deed should gain applause,
Where timid virtue found support in laws;
He to all good would soar, would fly all sin,
By the pure prompting of the will within;
"Who needs a law that binds him not to steal,"
Ask'd the young teacher, “can he rightly feel?
To curb the will, or arm in honour's cause,
Or aid the weak, are these enforced by laws?
Should we a foul, ungenerous action dread,
Because a law condemns th' adulterous bed?
Or fly pollution, not for fear of stain,
But that some statute tells us to refrain?
The grosser herd in ties like these we bind,
In virtue's freedom moves th' enlighten'd mind."
"Man's heart deceives him," said a friend.
course,"

Replied the youth, “but, has it power to force?
Unless it forces, call it as you will,

It is but wish and proneness to the ill."

"Of

"Art thou not tempted?"—" Do I fall?" said Shore. "The pure have fallen."-"Then are pure no more: While reason guides me, I shall walk aright, Nor need a steadier hand, or stronger light; Nor this in dread of awful threats, design'd For the weak spirit and the grovelling mind; But that, engaged by thoughts and views sublime, I wage free war with grossness and with crime." Thus look'd he proudly on the vulgar crew, Whom statutes govern, and whom fears subdue. Faith, with his virtue, he indeed profess'd, But doubts deprived his ardent mind of rest; Reason, his sovereign mistress, fail'd to show Light through the mazes of the world below; Questions arose, and they surpass'd the skill Of his sole aid, and would be dubions still; These to discuss he sought no common guide, But to the doubters in his doubts applied; When all together might in freedom speak, And their loved truth with mutual ardour seek. Alas! though men who feel their eyes decay, Take more than common pains to find their way, Yet, when for this they ask each other's aid, Their mutual purpose is the more delay'd: Of all their doubts, their reasoning clear'd not one, Still the same spots were present in the sun; Still the same scruples haunted Edward's mind, Who found no rest, nor took the means to find. But though with shaken faith, and slave to fame, Vain and aspiring on the world he came ;

Yet was he studious, serious, moral, grave,
No passion's victim, and no system's slave;
Vice he opposed, indulgence he disdain'd,
And o'er each sense in conscious triumph reign'd.
Who often reads will sometimes wish to write,
And Shore would yield instruction and delight:
A serious drama he design'd, but found
"Twas tedious travelling in that gloomy ground;
A deep and solemn story he would try,
But grew ashamed of ghosts, and laid it by ;
Sermons he wrote, but they who knew his creed,
Or knew it not, were ill disposed to read;
And he would lastly be the nation's guide,
But, studying, fail'd to fix upon a side;
Fame he desired, and talents he possess'd,
But loved not labour, though he could not rest,
Nor firmly fix the vacillating mind,
That, ever working, could no centre find.

"Tis thus a sanguine reader loves to trace
The Nile forth rushing on his glorious race;
Calm and secure the fancied traveller goes,
Through sterile deserts and by threatening foes;
He thinks not then of Afric's scorching sands,
Th' Arabian sea, the Abyssinian bands;
Fasils and Michaels, and the robbers all,
Whom we politely chiefs and heroes call:
He of success alone delights to think,
He views that fount, he stands upon the brink,
And drinks a fancied draught, exulting so to drink.
In his own room, and with his books around,
His lively mind its chief employment found;
Then idly busy, quietly employ'd,

And, lost to life, his visions were enjoy'd ;
Yet still he took a keen, inquiring view
Of all that crowds neglect, desire, pursue;
And thus abstracted, curious, still serene,
He, unemploy'd, beheld life's shifting scene;
Still more averse from vulgar joys and cares.
Still more unfitted for the world's affairs.

There was a house where Edward ofttimes went,
And social hours in pleasant trifling spent ;
He read, conversed and reason'd, sang and play'd,
And all were happy while the idler stay'd;
Too happy one, for thence arose the pain,
Till this engaging trifler came again.

But did he love? We answer, day by day, The loving feet would take th' accustom'd way, The amorous eye would rove as if in quest Of something rare, and on the mansion rest; The same soft passion touch'd the gentle tongue, And Anna's charms in tender notes were sung; The ear, too, seem'd to feel the common flame, Soothed and delighted with the fair one's name : And thus as love each other part possess'd, The heart, no doubt, its sovereign power confess'd. Pleased in her sight, the youth required no more; Nor rich himself, he saw the damsel poor; And he too wisely, nay, too kindly loved, To pain the being whom his soul approved.

• Fasil was a rebel chief, and Michael the general of the royal army in Abyssinia, when Mr. Bruce visited that country. In all other respects their characters were nearly similar. They are both represented as cruel and treacherous; and even the apparently strong distinction of loyal and rebellious is in a great measure set aside when we are informed that Fasil was an open enemy, and Michael an insolent and ambitious controller of the royal person and family.

free and daring authors write;
oved from common views to soar,
fountains never traced before;
ofess'd, yet often left the true
ospect, for the wild and new.
end his fiftieth year had seen,
sy, and his air serene ;
-ist call'd; for few agreed

s notions, principles, or creed;
sed not, for he hated rest,
made a query or a jest;
self, he ever sought to prove
-oom'd in endless doubt to rove;
rkness he profess'd to be,
maintain that not a man could see.
al friend, dissentient, reason'd still
prowess, and the subject will;
auty, and of honour's force,
zeal gave life to his discourse:

s feelings all his fire arose,

terest in the themes he chose. indulging a sarcastic smile, nthusiast! thou wilt change thy style, Helusions, errors, crimes, deceit, ess thee, and no longer cheat." ■ cautious man, so coolly wise. eauty fix'd unguarded eyes; arried: Edward at the view heerful visits long adieu; d, for this engaging bride press'd, but rather cause supplied: e saw the friends, by reasoning long, ght, and positive if wrong, speech and smile, that spoke delight, m careless both of wrong or right. damsel gave consent to wed, and school-day dinners in her head : promised choice of daintiest food, ess, that made her sovereign good; on hilly heath to banish spleen, visits when the roads were clean. loved, to these she gave consent, married to her heart's content. ner this; the friends together read, cause for disputation bred; follow'd, and the vapour'd child y argued till her head was wild; to her it was that mortal brain he trial, or endure the pain.

e friend reposed, the younger pair
cards, and play'd beside his chair;
king, to his books applied,
music of th' obedient bride;
vening, in the fields they stray'd,
wn flock with partial eye survey'd ;
usband, to indulgence prone,

s book, and bade them walk alone.
tind Edward! I must take mine ease,
ear girl the planets and the trees;
at warblers pour their evening song,
s flutter, as you walk along;
o fix the roving thoughts, to bind
ring sense, and methodize the mind."
obey'd; and oft when this was done,

Shed a soft beauty, and a dangerous grace.

When the young wife beheld in long debate The friends, all careless as she seeming sate; It soon appear'd, there was in one combined The nobler person and the richer mind; He wore no wig, no grizzly beard was seen, And none beheld him careless or unclean; Or watch'd him sleeping: we indeed have heard Of sleeping beauty, and it has appear'd; 'Tis seen in infants; there indeed we find The features soften'd by the slumbering mind; But other beauties, when disposed to sleep, Should from the eye of keen inspector keep; The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes; Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes, And all the homely features homelier makes; So thought our wife, beholding with a sigh Her sleeping spouse, and Edward smiling by. A sick relation for the husband sent, Without delay the friendly skeptic went; Nor fear'd the youthful pair, for he had seen The wife untroubled, and the friend serene; No selfish purpose in his roving eyes, No vile deception in her fond replies: So judged the husband, and with judgment true, For neither yet the guilt or danger knew.

What now remain'd? but they again should play Th' accustom'd game, and walk th' accustom'd way;

With careless freedom should converse or read,
And the friend's absence neither fear nor heed;
But rather now they seem'd confused, constrain'd
Within their room still restless they remain'd,
And painfully they felt, and knew each other
pain'd.-

Ah! foolish men! how could ye thus depend,
One on himself, the other on his friend?

The youth with troubled eye the lady saw,
Yet felt too brave, too daring to withdraw;
While she, with tuneless hand the jarring keys
Touching, was not one moment at her case:
Now would she walk, and call her friendly guide,
Now speak of rain, and cast her cloak aside;
Seize on a book, unconscious what she read,
And, restless still, to new resources fled;
Then laugh'd aloud, then tried to look serene,
And ever changed, and every change was seen.
Painful it is to dwell on deeds of shame;
The trying day was past, another came;
The third was all remorse, confusion, dread,
And, (all too late!) the fallen hero fled.

Then felt the youth, in that seducing time, How feebly honour guards the heart from crime: Small is his native strength; man needs the stay, The strength imparted in the trying day; For all that honour brings against the force Of headlong passion, aids its rapid course; Its slight resistance but provokes the fire, As wood-work stops the flame, and then conveys it higher.

The husband came; a wife by guilt made bold Had, meeting, soothed him, as in days of old; But soon this fact transpired; her strong distress,

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