§ 92. The School Miftrefs. In Imitation of Spenfer. SHENSTONE. Auditae voces, vagitus et ingens, AH me! full forely is my heart forlorn, To think how modeft worth neglectedlies, While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone as pride and pomp difguife; Deeds of ill fort, and mifchievous emprize : Lend me thy clarion, Goddefs! let me try To found the praife of merit ere it dies; Such as I oft have chanced to efpy,. Loft in the dreary fhades of dull obfcurity. In ev'ry village, mark'd with little spire, [fame, Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to There dwells, in lowly fhade and mean attire, A matron old, whom we School-miftrefs name; Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame : They, grieven fore, in piteous durance pent, Aw'd by the pow'r of this relentless dame, And oft-times, on vagarics idly bent, Forunkempt hair, ortafk unconn'd,are forely fhent. And all in fight doth rife a birchen tree, Which Learning near her little dome did ftow, Whilome a twig of fimall regard to fee, Tho' now fo wide its waving branches flow, And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe; For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, [low; But their limbs fhudder'd, and their pulfe beat And, as they look 'd, they found their horror grew, And fhap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view. Of fport, of fong, of pleafure, of repaft: They start, they ftare, they wheel, they look aghaft; Sad fervitude! Such comfortless annoy May no bold Briton's riper age e'er tafte! Ne fuperftition clog his dance of joy, Ne vifion empty, vain, his native blifs deftroy. Near to this dome is found a patch fo green, On which the tribe their gambols do difplay; And at the door impris'ning board is feen, Left weakly wights offmaller fize fhould stray, Eager, perdie, to bask in funny day! The noifes intermix'd, which thence refound, Do Learning's little tenement betray; Where fits the dame, disguis'd in look profound, [around. And eyes her Fairy throng, and turns her wheel Her cap, far whiter than the driven fnow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield; Her apron dyed in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field: And in her hand, for fceptre, the does wield Tway birchen fprays, with anxious fear entwin'd, With dark diftruft, and fad repentance fill'd, And ftedfaft hate, and sharp affliction join'd, And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind. Few but have kennd, in femblance meet pourtray'd, y'd, The childish faces of old ol's train, Libs, Notus, Aufter: these in frowns array' How then would fare or earth, or fky, or main, Were the ftern god to give his flaves the rein? And were not the rebellious breafts to quell, And were not the her statutes to maintain, The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell Where comely peace of mind and decent order dwell. A ruffet ftole was o'er her fhoulders thrown; 'Twas her own country bred the flock fo fair; 'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare, And, footh to fay, her pupils, rang'd around, Thro' pious awe did term it paffing rare; For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think, no doubt, the been the greatest wight on ground. Albeit, ne flatt'ry did corrupt her truth; Ne pompous title did debauch her ear; Goody, good-woman, goffip, n'aunt, forfooth, Or dame, the fole additions fhe did hear; Yet thefe the challeng'd, these fhe held right dear: Ne would eftcem him act as mought behove, Who fhould not honour'd eld with these revere; For never title yet fo mean could prove, But there was eke a mind which did that title love. One ancient hen she took delight to feed, The plodding pattern of the bufy dame, Which ever and anon, impell'd by need, Into her school, begirt with chickens, came; Such favour did her paft deportment claim: And if neglect had lavish'd on the ground Fragment of bread, fhe would collect the fame; For well the knew, and quaintly could expound, What fin it were to wafte the fmalleft crumb fhe found. Herbs too fhe knew, and well of each could fpeak, That in her garden fipp'd the filv'ry dew, Where no vain flow'r difclos'd a gaudy streak, But herbs for ufe and phyfic not a few, Of grey renown, within those borders grew; The tufted bafil, pun-provoking thyme, Fresh baum, and marygold of cheerful hue, The lowly gill, that never dares to climb, And more I fain would fing, difdaining here to rhyme. Yet euphrafy may not be left unfung, That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around; And pungent radifh, biting infant's tongue; And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound; The fouth-west wind, fouth, &c. And Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve, Ah! lucklefs he, and born beneath the beam Hymned fuch pfalms as Sternhold forth did Fair as the furry coat of whiteft ermilin. mete. If winter 'twere, fhe to her hearth did cleave: But in her garden found a fummer feat: Sweet melody to hear her then repeat How Ifrael's fons, beneath a foreign king, While taunting foe-men did a fong entreat, All for the nonce untuning every ftring, Uphung their ufelefs lyres-fmall heart had they to fing. For fhe was juft, and friend to virtuous lore, And pafs'd much time in truly virtuous deed; And in thofe elfins ears would oft deplore The times when Truth by Popish rage did bleed, And tortious death was true Devotion's meed; And fimple Faith in iron chains did mourn, That nould on wooden image place her creed; And lawny faints in fmould'ring flames did burn: . [return. Ah, dearest Lord! forefend thilk days fhould c'er In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem, By the fharp tooth of cank 'ring Eld defac'd, In which, when he receives his diadem, Our fov'reign prince and liefeft licge is plac'd, The matron fate: and fome with rank fhe grac'd, The fource of children's and of courtier's pride! Redrefs'd affronts (for vile affronts there pafs'd), And warn'd them not the fretful to deride, But love each other dear, whatever them betide. Right well fhe knew each temper to defcry, Tothwart the proud, and the fubmifs to raise; Some with vile copper prize exalt on high, And fome entice with pittance finall of praife; And other fome with baleful fprig the 'frays: E'en abfent, the the reins of pow'r doth hold, While with quaint arts the giddy crowd the fways; Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, Twill whifper in her car, and all the feene un fold. O ruthful scene! when from a nook obfcure Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny (If gentle pardon could with dames agrec) To her fad grief that fwells in either eye, And wrings her fo, that all for pity fhe could die. No longer can fhe now her fhrieks command; And hardly the forbears, thro' awful fear, Torufhen forth, and, with prefumptuous hand, To ftay harfh juftice in its mid career. On thee the calls, on thee, her parent dear! (Ah! too remote to ward the fhameful blow!) She fees no kind domeftic vifage near, And foon a flood of tears begins to flow, And gives a loose at laft to unavailing woc. But, ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace ? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his difguifed face? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? The plenteous fhow'r that does his check diftain? When he in abject wife implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of fweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high the levels well her aim, And, thro' the thatch, his cries cach falling ftroke proclaim. The other tribe, aghaft, with fore difmay Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care; By turns, aftonied, ev'ry twig furvey, And from their fellow's hateful wounds beware, Knowing, I wift, how cach the fame may fhare; Till fear has taught them a performance meet, And to the well-known cheft the dame repair, Whence oft with fugar'd cates the doth 'em grect, And gingerbread y-rare; now, certes, doubly fweet! See, to their feats they hye with merry glee, (This hand in mouth y-fix'd,thatrends his hair); And eke with fnubs profound, and heaving breaft, Convulfions intermitting! does declare His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust beheft, And fcorns her offer'd love, and fhuns to be carefs'd. His face befprent with liquid crystal fhines; His blooming face, that feems a purple flow'r, Which low to earth its drooping head declines, All fmear'd and fullied by a vernal show'r. Oh the hard bofoms of defpotic pow'r ! All, all but fhe, the author of his shame, All, all but the, regret this mournful hour: Yet hence the youth, and hence the flow'r fhall claim, If fo I deem aright, tranfcending worth and fame. Behind fome door in melancholy thought, Mindlefs of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines; Ne for his fellows joyaunce careth ought, But to the wind all merriment refigns, Ah, me! how much I fear left pride it be! (All coward arts) is valour's gen'rous heat; The firm fix'd breaft which fit and right requires, Like Vernon's patriot foul, more juftly great Than craft that pimps for ill, or flow`ry falfe deceit. Yet, nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits E'en now fagacious forefight points to fhow Tho' now he crawl along the ground fo low; Wifheth, poor ftarv'ling clf! his paper kite may fly. And this perhaps, who, cens'ring the defign, And many a poet quit th' Aönian field: Surveys mine work, and levels many a fneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, What stuff is here!' But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle sky, And now the graffy cirque han cover'd o'er For well may Freedom, erft fo dearly won, Appear to British elf more gladfome than the fun. Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade, And chace gay flies,and cull the fairest flow'rs; For when my bones in grafs-green fods are laid; For never may ye tafte more careless hours In knightly caftles or in ladies bow'rs. O vain, to feek delight in earthly things! But moft in courts, where proud Ambition tow'rs; Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can fpring Beneath the pompous dome of kefar or of king. See in each fprite fome various bent appear! Some to the standing lake their courses bend, With pebbles fimooth, at duck and drake to play; Thilk to the huxter's fav'ry cottage tend, In paftry kings and queens th'alloted mite to spend. Here, as each feafon yields a different store, Each feafon's ftores in order ranged been; Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er, Galling full fore th`unmonied wight, are seen; And goofeb'rie, clad in liv'ry red or green: And here of lovely dye the Cathrine pear; Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice I ween; O may no wight e'er pennylefs come there. Left, finit with ardent love, he pine with hopeless * Shrewsbury cakes. known *. Admir 1 Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride Her daughters lovely, and her ftriplings brave: Who cheerlets o'er her darkling region ftray, Till Reafon's morn arife, and light them on their way. $93. Oriental Eclogues. By Mr. COLLINS. ECLOGUE I. Selim; or, the Shepherd's Moral. Scene, a Valley near Bagdat.---Time, the Morning. E Perfian maids, attend your Poet's lays, Y. And hear how thepherds pafs their golden ⚫ days. Not all are bleft, whom Fortune's hand fuftains Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; Ye Perfian dames,' he faid, 'to you belong [boaft, Boaft but the worth Balfora's pearls difplay! Who feeks fecure to rule, be firft her care 6 6 6 Bleft were the days when wisdom held her reign, And fhepherds fought her on the filent plain; O hafte, fair maids! ye Virtues, come away! Loft to our fields, for fo the fates ordain, To lead the train, fweet Modefty, appear: But man the moft-not more the mountain doe ECLOGUE II. Haffan; or, the Camel-Driver. Scene, the Defart.---Time, Mid-Day. IN filent horror, o'er the boundless wafte, Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind, * The Gulf of that name, famous for the pearl-fishery. ! "Here, Here, where no fprings in murmurs break away," Farewel the youth, whom fighs could not detain, 'Or mofs-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delignts to know, Which plains more bleft, or verdant vales, • beftow: Here rocks alone and taftelefs fands are found, Curft be the gold and filver which perfuade Why heed we not, while mad we hafte along, Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, O ceafe, my fears!-all frantic as I go, "Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain; me!" O let me fafely to the fair return, Say, with a kifs, fhe muft not, fhall not mourn! He faid; and call'd on Heaven to blefs the day ECLOGUE III. Abra; or, the Georgian Sultana. Scene, a Foreft.---Time, the Evening. IN Georgia's land, where Tefflis' tow'rs are feen Of Abra firft began the tender ftrain, When thought creates unnumber'd fcenes of Where lilies rear them in the wat'ry mead : woe. What if the lion in his rage I meet! Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. At that dead hour the filent afp fhall creep, O hapless youth! for fhe thy love hath won, When faft the dropp'd her tears, and thus fhe • faid: | From early dawn the live-long hours fhe told, Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to stray, Be ev'ry youth like royal Abbas mov'd, And ev'ry Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !' That thefe flowers are found in very great abundance in fome of the provinces of Perfia, fee the Modern hery of the ingenious Mr. Salmon. |