Rich the treasure,

These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were Nain,
Sweet the pleasure;

And unburied remain
Sweet is plcasure after pain,

Inglorious on the plain;

Give the vengeance duc Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;

To the valiant crew : Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his focs; and thrice he Behold how they toss their torches on high, flew the slain.

How they point to the Persian abodes, The master saw the madness rise ;

And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods !

The Princes applaud, with a furious joy ; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ;

And the King feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to And, while he heaven and earth defied,

Thais led the way,

[destroyi Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride,

To light him to his prey, He chose a mournful muse,

And, like another Helen, fir’d another Troy. Soft pity to infufe : He sùng Darius great and good,

Thus, long ago, By too severe a fate,

Ere heaving bellows learn’d to blow, Fall'n, fall'n, fall’n, fall’n,

While organs yet were mute; Fall'n from his high eftate,

Timothcus to his breathing flute And welt'ring in his blood ;

And founding lyrc Deserted at his utmost need

Could swell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire, By those his former bounty fed,

At last divine Cecilia came, On the bare earth expos'd he ličs,

Inventress of the vocal frame; With not a friend to close his eyes.

The sweet enthusiast, from her facred store, With downcast look the joyless viétor sate, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, Revolving in his alter'd loul

And added length to solemn founds, The various turns of fate below;

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown beAnd now and then a sigh he stole;

Ler old Timotheus yield the prize, [fore, And tears began to flow.

Or both divide the crown; The mighty master smild, to see

He rais’d a mortal to the skies,
That love was in the next degree :

She drew an angel down.
'Twas but a kindred found to move;
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly tweet, in Lydian measures,

$ 97. An Epifle, from Mr. Phillips to the Earl of Soon he sooth'd his foul to pleasures,

Dorset. Copenbagen, March 9, 1709. War he sung is toil and trouble ; Honour but an empty bubble;

FROM frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow, Never ending, still beginning,

From streams that northern winds forbid to Fighting still, and still destroying :

flow, If the world be worth thy winning,

What present shall the Muse to Dorset bring, Think, oh think it worth enjoying !

Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing? Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

The hoary winter here conceals from fight Take the good the gods provide thee.

All pleasing objects that to verse invite. The

The hills and dales, and the delightful woods, many rend the skies with loud applause; So love was crown'd, but music won the cause.

The flow'ry plains, and silver Itreaming floods,

By snow disguis’d, in bright confusion Tie, The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

And, with one dazzling waste, fatigue the eye. Gaz'd on the fair Who caus'd his care,

No gentle breathing brceze prepares the spring, And sigli’d and look'd, sigh`d and look’d, No birds within the desart rcgion sing.

Sigh’d and look'd, and ligh'd again : The ships, unmov'd, the boist'rous winds defy, At length, with love and wine at once oppress’d, While rattling chariots o'er the occan fly. The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. The vast Leviathan wants room to play, Now strike the golden lyre again ;

And spout his waters in the face of day. And louder yet, and yet a louder strain. The starving wolves along the main sea prowl, Break his bands of leep asunder,

And to the moon in icy valleys howl. And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. For many a fhining league the level main Hark, hark, the horrid found

Here spreads itself into a glasly plain : Has rais'd up his head,

There folid billows, of enormous size, As awak'd from the dead,

Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise. And amaz'd, he stares around.

And yet but lately have I seen, e’en here, Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,

The winter in a lovely dress appear. See the furies arise,

Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow, See the snakes that they rear,

Or winds begun thro' hazy skies to blow, How they hiss in the air,

At ev’ning a keen castern breeze arose ; And the sparkles that Aath from their eyes! And the descending rain unsullied froze. Behold a ghastly band,

Soon as the filent Shades of night withdrew, Each a torch in his handt,

The ruddy morn disclos'd at once to view

a

The face of nature in a rich disguise,

| Behold, behold, in loose array,
And brighten'd every object to my eyes : Euphrosyne, more bright than day,
For evry shrub, and every blade of grass, More mild than Paphian doves!
And ev'ry pointed thorn, féem'd wrought in glass, Welcome, oh welcome, Pleasure's queen!
In pearls and rubies rich the hau thorns then,

And see, along the velvet green
While thro' the ice the crimson berries glow.
The thick-sprung reeds the wat'ry marshes yield with scatter d How'rs they fill the air;

The jocurd train advance :
Seem polith'd lances in a hostile field.

The wood-nymph's dew-befpangled hair
The ftag, in limpid currents, with furprise

Plays in the sportive dance.
Sces crystal branches on his forehead rife.
The Spreading cak, the becch, and tow ring pine, Ah! bareful grant of angry Heaven,
Glaz'd over, in the fr una æther thine. When to the feeling wietch is given
The frighted birds tue sailing branc':es shun,

A fouí alive to joy !
That wave and glitter in the distant sun.

Jous fir with every hour away, When, if a sudden gut of wir i arise,

And leave th'unguarded heart a prey The britt'e iorcft into atems flies:

To cares, that peace destroy..
The crackling rood beneath the tempest bends, And see, with visionary hafte
And in a spangled how'r the prospech ends; (Too foon the gay delusion past)
Or, if atinn gale the region warm,

Reality remains !
And by degre's unbind the wint'ry charm, Dcipair has seiz'd my captive soul;
The traveier a miry country fees,

And horror drives without controul,
And journeys: beneath the dropping trees. And flackens still the reins.

Like fome deri jud peasant Merlin leads
Thro' Fragrant dow'rs, and thio' delicious meads; What beauties, fay, ye nymphs, belong

Ten thousand beauues round me throng;
While hire enchanted gardens to him rife,
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,

To the distemper'd soul?

I see the lawn of hideous dve;
His wand'ring feet the magic pathis pursue ;

The towering elm nods mifery;
And, while he thinks the fair illusion true,
The trackless (cenes disperse in Huid air,

With groans the waters roll.
And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways, appear: Ye vivid tints of Parlia's looms,

Ye gilded roofs, Palladian domes,
A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
And, as he goes, the transient vition mourns.

Yc were for misery made.-
'Twas thus the Man of Sorrow spoke;

His wayward step then pensive took
$ 98. The Man of Sorrow. GREVILLE. Along th'unhallow'd made.
A'

H! what avails the lengthening mead,
By Nature's kindeft bounty spread

$99. Monody to the Memory of a Young Lady. Along the vale of fiow'rs!

Shaw.
Ah! what avails the darkening grove,
Or Philomel's melodious love,

YET do I live? Oh how shall I sustain

This vaft unutterable weight of woe! That glads the midnight hours !

This worse than hunger, poverty, or pain, For me, alas ! the god of day

Or all the complicated ills below? Ne'er glitters on the hawthorn spray,

She, in whose life my hopes were treasur'd all, Nor night her comfort brings :

Is gone-for ever fledI have no pleasure in the rose;

My dearest Emma's dead; For me no vernal beauty blows,

These eyes, these tear-fwol'n eyes beheld her fall. Nor Philomela sings.

Ah no—he lives on some far happier shore,
See how the sturdy peasants stride

She lives—but (cruel thought!) the lives for me
Adown yon hillock's verdant lide,
In cheerful ignorance bleft!

I, who the tedious absence of a day [right;
Alike to them the rose or thorn,

Reinov'd, would languish for my charmer's Alike arises every morn,

Would chide the lingering moments for delay, By gay Contentment dreft.

And fondly blame the flow return of night;

How, how shall I endure Content, fair daughter of the skies,

(O misery past a cure !) Or gives spontaneous, or denies,

Hours, days, and years, successively to roll,
Her choice divinely free :

Nor ever more behold the comfort of my soul ?
She visits oft the hamlet cot,
When Want and Sorrow are the lot

Was The not all my fondest wish could frame ?
Of Avarice and me.

Did ever mind so much of heaven partake ?

Did the not love me with the purest Alame? But see—or is it Fancy's dream?

And give up friends and fortune for my fake? Methought a bright celestial gleam

Though mild as evening skies, Shot ludden thro' the groves;

With downcalt, streaming eyes,

Stood

no more.

VOWS.

telli

Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows,

Had Innocence or Virtue been their care,

She had not died, nor had I liv'd to weep : Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful to her

Mov'd by my tears, and by her patience mov'd, Come then, fome Mufe, thc saddest of the train

To fue her force th' endearing smile, (No more your bard thall dwell on idle lays),

My sorrows to beguile,
Teach me each moving melancholy strain,

When Torture's keenest rage she prov'd;
And oh discard the pageantry of phrase :

Sure they had warded that untimely dart,
Ill suit the flow'rs of speech with woes like mine!

Which broke her thread of life, and rent a kuf.
Thus, haply, as I paint

band's heart.
The source of my complaint,

How shall I c'er forget that drcadful hour,
My soul may own th’impallion'd line;

When, feeling Death's relik'efs pow'r,
A flood of tears may gush to my relief, [of grief. My hand she prets’d, wet with her falling tears,
And from my swelling heart discharge this load And thus, in fault'ring accents, spoke her fears !
Forbear, my fond officious friends, forbcar Ah, my lov'd lord, the transient scene is o'er,
To wound my ears with the sad tales you

" And we must part, alas! to meet no more !
“How good she was, how gentle, and how fair!” “ But, oh! if e'er thy Emma's name was dear,

In pity cease-alas! I know too well " If e'er thy vows have cha!m'd my ravish'd car;
How in her sweet expreflive face

"If, from thy lov'd embrace my heart to gain, Bcam’d forth the beauties of her mind, 66 Proud friends have frown'd, and Fortunc finil'd Yet hcighten'd by exterior grace,

« in vain.;
Of manners most engaging, most rehind. “ If it has been my sole endeavour ftill

“ To act in all obíiquious to thy will;
No piteous object could she fet,

“ To watch thy very smiles, thy with to know, But her fuft bosom fhar'd the woe, While (miles of affability

“ Then only truly bleft when thou wert so;

“ If I have doated with that fond excefs,
Endear'd whatever boon she might bestow.
Whate'er th' emotions of her heart,

" Nor love could add, nor Fortune make it less ;

" If this I've done, and more-oh then be kind Still shone conspicuous in her eyes,

" To the dear lovely babe I leave behind. Stranger to every female art,

When time my once-lov'd mem'ry shall efface,
Alike to feign or to disguise :

“ Some happier maid may take thy Emma's
And, oh the boast how rare !
The secret in her faithful breast repos d
She ne'er with lawless tongue diiclos'd,

“ With envious eyes thy partial fondness see,

" And hate it for the love thou bor'st to me: In secret silence lodg’d inviolate there. Oh feeble words—unable to express

My dearest Shaw, forgive a woman's fears;

“ But one word more I cannot bear thy tearsHer matchless virtues, or my own distress!

“ Proinite—and I will trust thy faithful vow Relentless death! that, steel'd to human woe, (Oft have I tried, and ever found thee true)

With murd'rous hands dcals havoc on man- “That to some diftant fpot thou wilt remove Why (cruel!) strike this deprecated blow, (kind, This fatal pledge of haplofs Emma's love,

, “ And leave such wretched multitudes behind ?

“ Where safe thy blandishments it may partake, Hark! groans come wing'd on every breeze !

“ And, oh! be tender for its mother's fake, The tons of grief prefer their ardent vow, “ Wilt thou :Oppress’d with Torrow, want, or dire discale, " I know thou wilt-fad silence speaks assent;

And supplicate thy aid, as I do now: “ And in that pleasing hope thy Emma dies
In vain-perverse, still on th' unweeting head

(6 content.
'Tis thine thy vengeful darts to thed;
Hope's infant blostoms to destroy,

I, who writh more than manly strength have bore
And drench in tears the face of joy.

The various ills impos’d by cruel Fate,

Sustain the firmness of my foul no more,
But oh, fell tyrant! yet expect the hour

But sink beneath the weight :

[day
When Virtue shall renounce thy pow'r; Just Heaven! I cried, from Memory's earliest
When thou no more shalt blot the face of day, No comfort has thy wretched suppliant known;
Nor mortals tremble at thy rigid sway.

Misfortune ftill, with unrelenting tway,
Alas the day !-where'er I turn my eyes,

Has claim'd me for her own.
Some sad memento of my loss appears ;
I Ay the fatal house--fupprefs my highs,

But, oh! in pity to my grief, restore

This only fource of bliss; I alk-1 ask no more Resolv'd to dry my unavailing tears: Vain hope-ih'irrevocable doom is past,

But, ah ! in vain—no change of time or Ev'n now the looks—the fighs her last

The memory can efface [place Vainly I ftrive to stay her ficcting breath, [death.
Of all that sweetness, that enchanting air, And, with rebellious heart, protest against her
Now loft; and nought remains but anguish and
despair.

When the stern tyrant clos'd her lovely eyes,

How did I rave, untaught to bear the blow! Where were the delegates of Heaven, oh where! With impious with to tear her from the skies, Appointed Virtue's children fafe to keep?

How curse my fate in bitterness of woc!

But

“ place,

66

W

But whither would this dreadful phrenzy lead? , Her lovely form pursues where'er I go,
Fond man, forb.ar,

And darkens all the scene with woe.
Thy fruitless forrow spare,

By Nature's lavish bounties cheer'd no more,
Dare not to task what Heaven's high will decreed; Sorrowing I rove
In humble rev’rence kiss th'afflictive rod,

Through valley, grot, and grove; And proftrate bow to an offended God. Nought can their beauties or my loss restore

No herb, no plant, can med'cine my disease, Perhaps kind Heaven in mercy dealt the blow,

And my fad fighs are borne on ev'ry passing Some faving truth thy roving foul to teach ;

brecze. To wean thy heart from grovelling views below, And point out bliss beyond Misfortune's Sickness and forrow hov’ring round my bed, reach :

Who now with anxious hafte shall bring relief; To shew that all the flatt'ring schemes of joy,

With lenient hand support my drooping head, Which tow'ring Hope so fondly builds in air, Assuage my pains, and mitigate my grief? One faral moment can destroy,

Should worldly business call away, And plunge th’exulting maniac in despair.

Who now shall in my absence fondly mourn; Then, oh! with pious fortitude sustain Count ev'ry minute of the loit'ring day, Thy present lofs-haply thy future gain ; Impatient for my quick return? Nor let thy Emma die in vain :

Should aught my botom discompose, Time shall administer its wonted balm,

Who now, with sweet complacent air, And hush this storm of grief to no unpleasing calm. Shall smooth the rugged brow of Care,

And foften all my woes? Thus the poor bird, by some disastrous fate

Too faithful Memory—-cease, oh ceaseCaught and imprifon'd in a lonely cage,

How shall I e'er regain my peace?
Torn from its native fields, and dearer inate,
Flutters awhile, and spends its little rage:

(Oh, to forget her!)-but how vain each art, But finding all its efforts weak and vain,

Whilft ev'ry virtue lives imprinted on my heart! No more it pants and rages for the plain; And thou, my little cherub, left behind Moping awhile, in suilen mood

To hear a father's plaints, to share his woes, Droops the sweet mourner—but ere long When Reaton's dawn informs thy infant mind, Prunes its light wings, and pecks its food, And thy sweet lisping tongue shall ask the cause, And meditates the fong :

How oft with sorrow fhall mine eyes run o'er, Serenely forrowing, breathes its piteous case, When, twining round my knces, I trace And with its plaintive warblings faddens all Thy mother's linile upon thy face ! the place.

How oft to my full heart thalt thou restore Forgive me, Heaven!--yet, yet the tears will flow, By bletsings once enjoy'd now more distress’d,

Sad mem’ry of my joys-ah, now no more ! To think how foon my scene of bliss is past !

More beggar by the riches once poileft, My budding joys, just promising to blow,

My little darling !_dearer to me grown [hear! All nipt and wither'd by onc envious blast!

By all the tears thou'st caus'd-oh strange to My hours, that laughing ivont to fleet away, Move heavily along ;

[fong

Bought with a life yet dearer than thy own,

Thy cradle purchas'd with thy mother's bier : Where's now the sprightly jest, the jocund

Who now shall seck with fond delight Time creeps, unconscious of delight :

Thy infant fteps to guide aright? How shall I cheat the tedious day ;

She, who with doating eyes would gaze And oh-the jovicís night!

On all thy little artlets ways, Where Thall I rest my wcary head? How shall I tind report on a fad widow'd bed: And clasp thce oft with transport to her breast,

By all thy foft endearments blest, Come, Theban drug *, the wretch's only aid, Alas! is gone-yet thalt thou prove

To my torn heart its former peace restore; A father's deareft, tenderest love; Thy votary, wrapp'd in thy Lethean shade, And, o sweet fenicless smiler (envied state !) Awhile shall cease his forrows to deplore : As

yet

unconscious of thy hapless fate, Haply, when lock'd in Neep's embrace,

When years thy judgment thall mature, Again I thall behold my Emma's face

And Reason fhcws those ills it cannot cure, Again with transport hear

Wilt thou, a father's grief t' assuage, Her voice oft whispering in iny ear;

For virtue prove thc Phænix of the carth May steal once more a balmy kiss,

(Like her, thy mother died to give the birth), And taste at least of visionary bliss.

And be the comfort of my age ? But, ah! th’unwelcome morn's obtruding light When sick and languishing I lie,

Will all my fhadlowy schemes of bliss depole, Wilt thou my Emma's wonted care supply Will tear the dear illution from my sight,

And, oft as to thy liftening car, And wake me to the sense of all my woes : Thy mother's virtues and her fate I tell, If to the verdant fields I stray,

Say, wilt thou drop the tender tear, Alas! what pleasures now can thcic convey? Whilst on the mournful theme I dwell: * Laudanum,

Then,