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And nature, by the unknown law,

While down her neck her vagrant treffes flow, Shook deep with reverential awe;

In all the awful negligence of woe; Dumb Glence grew upon the hour ;

Her urn sustain'd her arm, that sculptur'd vase A browner night involv'd the bow'r:

Where Vulcan's art had lavith'd all his grace. When issuing from the inmost wood,

Here, full with life, was heaven-taught Science Appear'd fair Freedom's Genius good,

seen, O Freedom! sov'reign boon of Heaven, Known by the laurel wreath and musing mien; Great Charter with our being giv'n;

There cloud-crown'd Fame, here Peace fedate For which the patriot and the faze

and bland, Have plann’d, have bled, thro' ev'ry age! Swelld the loud trump, and wav'd the olive wand; High privilege of human race,

While solemn domes, arch'd shades, and visas Beyond a mortal monarch's grace:

green, Who could not gire, who cannot claim, At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene. What but from God immediate came!

On this the goddets cast an anxious lock, Then dropt a tender tear, and thus the spoke : Yes, I could once with plcas'd attention trace

The mimic chai ms of this prophetic vale; $ 110. Ode to Eve::ing. Dr. Jos. W'ARTON. Then lift my head, and with enraptur'd eyes Hall, meck-eyed Maiden, clad in sober grey, View on yon plain the real glories rifc

. Whose fuft approuch the weary woodman Yes, 111! (ft haft thou rejoic'd' to Icad loves;

Thy liquid treatures o'er yon fav'rite mcad; As homeward bent to kiss his prattling babes

Oft hait thou stopt thy pearly car to gaze, Jocund he whistics through the twilight groves. While ev'ry Science nurs'd its griwing bays;

While ev'ry Youth, with fame's strong impulse When Phoebus sinks behind the gilded hills,

Prei'd to the goal, and at the goal untir'd (hr’d, You lightly o'er the mi-ty meadows walk;

Snatch'd each celestial wreath, to bind his brow, The drooping daifies bathe in dulcet dews,

The Mutes, Graces, Virtues could bestow. And nurse the nodding violet's tender stalk.

E'en now fond Fancy leads th’ideal train, The panring Dryads, that in day's fierce hcat And ranks her troops on Memory's ample plain; To inmost bow'rs and cooling caverns ran, See! the firm leaders of my pa riot line, Return to trip in wanton ev'ning danct.;

Sce! Sidney, Raleigh, Hampden, Somers shine. Old Sylvan too returns, and laughing Pan. See Hough, superior to a tyrant's doom, To the decp wood the clamorous rooks repair,

Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome: Light skims the swallow o'er the wat’ry Icene;

Each foul whom truth,could fire, or virtue move, And from the theep-cote, and fresh-furrow'd field, Each breast strong panting with its country's love, Stout plougimen meet to wrestle on the green.

All that to Albion gave their heart or head,

That wisely counsell'd, or that bravely bled, The swain, that artless fings on yonder rock, His fupping Thtep and length’ning lhadow fpics, The well-carn’d prize of eiery virtuous toil

All, all appear; on me they grateful linile, Pleas'd with the cool, the calm refrething hour, To me with hlial reverence they bring, And with hoarte huiming of unnumber d fies. And hang freth trophies o'er my honour'd spring. Now ev'ry Paffion Nceps : desponding Love, Ah! I remember well yon becchen spray, And pining Envy, cver-restlels Pride;

There Addison first tun'd his polith'd lay; And holy Calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul, 'Twas there great Cato's form first met his eye, Anger and mad Ambition's storms subside. In all the pomp of frec-born majesty; [awe, O modest Evening ! oft let me appear

My son,” he cried, “ observe this micn with

" In folemn lines the strong resemblance draw; A wandering votary in thy pentive train ;

“ The piercing notes thall strike each British ear; List’ning to every wildly-svaruling note

“ Each British cyc hall drop the patriot tear! That fills with farewel sweet thy darkening plain.

“ And, rous'd to glory by the nervous strain,
“ Each Youth Thali ipurn at ilavery's abject reign;

“ Shall guard with Cato's zeal Britannia's laws, § 111. Isis. An Elegy. By Mr. Mason of Cambridge.

“ And speak, and act, and bleed, in freedom's

6* cause.” FAR from her hallow'd grot, where mildly The Hero spoke; the bard affenting bow'd; bright

The lay to Liberty and Cato flow'd; The pointed cryftals shot their trembling light, Whilc Echo, as the rov'd the vale along, From dripping moss where sparkling dew-drops Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman song, fell,

[Thell, But, ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground, Where coral glow'd, where twin'd the wrcathcd How mute attention check'd each rising found, Pale Isis lay; a willow's lowly shade

Scarce sole a breeze to wave the leafy spray, Spread its thin foliage o'er the sleeping maid ; Scarce trill'd sweet Philomel her foftett lay, Clos'd was her eye, and from her heaving breast When Locke walk'd musing forth! e'en now I La carcless folds loose flow'd her zonelcis veft; Majestic Wisdom thron’d upon his brow; [view

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View Candour smile upon his modest cheek,

§ 112. Epißolary Verses to George Colman, Esg. And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break.

written in ibe Year 1756. By Mr. ROBERT 'Twas here the sage his manly zcal expreís'd,

LLOYD. Here stript vain Falschood of her gaudy vett; Here Truth's coll: Eted beams fitt filled his mind, You know, dear George, I'm none of those Ere long to burst in bleffings on mankind;

That condescend to write in prose: Ere long to thew to reaton's purged eye, Inspir'd with pathos and fublimc, That “Nature's first best gitt was Liberty.” I always foar-in doggrel rhyme;

Proud of this wondrous Ton, sublime I stood And scarce can ask you how you do, (While louder surges livell d my rapid food); Without a jingling line or two. Then, vain as Niobe, exulting cried,

Befides, I always took delight in
Iliffus! roll thy fam d Athenian tide;

What bears the name of caly writing;
Tho'Plato's steps oft mark'd thy neighb’ring glade, Perhaps the reason makes it please
Tho' fair Lycæum lent its awful thade, Is, that I find ’tis writ with cafe.
Tho' ev'ry Academic green impress'd

I vent a notion here in private,
Its image full on thy reflecting breast,

Which public taste can ne'er connive at,
Yet my pure stream thall boatt as proud a name, which thinks no wit or judgment greater
And Britain's Iris flow with Attic fame. Than Addiion and his Spectator;
Alas! how chang'd! where now that Attic Who says (it is no matter where,

But that he says it I can swear)
Sec! Gothic Licence rage o'er all my coast; With caly verfe most bards are smitten,
See! Hydra Faction spread its impious reign, Because they think it's casy written;
Poison each breast, and madden ev'ry brain

: Whereas, the easier it appears,
Hence frontlefs crowds that, not content to fright The greater marks of care it wears ;
The bluihing Cynthia from her throne of night, of which to give an explanation,
Blast the fair face of day; and, madly bold, Take this by way of illustration :
To Freedom's foes infernal or gics hold;

The fam'd Mat. Prior, it is said,
To Freedom's foes, ah! see the goblet crown'd, Oft bit his nails, and scratch'd his head,
Hear plausive thouts to Freedom's focs refound; | And chang'd a thought a hundred times,
The horrid note's my refluent waters daunt, Because he did not like the rhymes :
The Echoes groan, ihe Dryads quit their haunt; | To make my meaning clear, and please ye,
Learning, that once to all diffus'd her beam, In short, he labour'd to write ealy.
Now sheds, by stealth, a partial private gleam And yet no Critic e'er defines
In some lone cloister's melancholy made, His poems into labour'd lines.
Where a firm few support her fickly head, I have a simile will hit him;
Despis’d, intulted by the barb'rous train, His verse, like clothes, was inade to fit hin;
Who scour like Thracia's moon-Itruck rout the Which (as no taylor c'er denied)

The better fit the more they're tried. Sworn foes like them to all the Muse approves, Though I have mention d Prior's name, All Phæbus favours, or Minerva loves.

Think not I aim at Prior's fame.
Are these the fons my fott'ring breast must rear, 'Tis the result of admiration
Grac'd with my name, and nurtur’d by my care? To spend itself in imitation;
Muft these go forth from my maternal hand If imitation may be faid,
To deal their insults thro' a peaceful land; Which is in me by nature bred,
And boast, while Freedom bleeds, and Virtue And you have better proofs than these,

That I'm idolater of Ease.
That " Isis taught Rebellion to her Sons :"

Who but a madman would engage Forbid it, Heaven! and let my rising waves

A Poet in the present age?
Indignant swell, and whelm the recreant Nares! Write what we will, our works bcspcak us
In England's cause their patriot floods employ, Imitatores, servum Pecus.
As Xanthus delug'd in the cause of Troy. Tale, Elegy, or lofty Ode,
Is this denied; then point fome secret way We travel in the beaten road.
Where far, far hence these guiltless streains may The proverb still tricks closely by us,

Nil dictum, quod non dictum prius.
Some unknown channellend, where Nature spreads The only comfort that I know
Inglorious vales, and unfrequented meads: Is, that 'twas taid an age ago,
There, where a hind scarce tunes his ruftic strain, Ere Milton foar’d in thought sublime,
Where scarce a pilgrim treads the pathlefs plain, Ere Pope refind the chink of rhyme,
Content I'll now; forget that e'er my.tide

Ere Colman wrote in style so pure,
Saw yon majestic structures crown its side; Or the great Two the Connoisseur;
Forget that c'er my rapt attention hung

Ere I burlesqu’d the rural cit, Or on the Sage's or the Poet's tongue;

Proud to hedge in my scraps of wit; Calm and refign'd my humbler lot embrace, And, happy in the close connection, And, pleas’d, prefer oblivion to disgrace. T'acquire fome name from their reflection ;


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So (the fimilitude is trite)

“ Howe'er defunct you set him down,
The moon itill thines with borrow'd light; * He's only going out of Town."
And, like the race of modern beaux,
Ticks wi:h the fun for her lac'd clothes.
Methinks there is no better time

§ 113. Ode to Artbur Onslow, Esq. +
To fhew the ute I make of rhyine,
Than now, when I, who from beginning THIS goodly frame what virtne fo approves,
Was always fond of couplet-finning,

And tcftifies the pure ethereal spirit, Presuming on good-nature's score,

As mild Benevolence ? Thus lay my bantling at your door.

She with her sister Mercy still awaits The first advantage which I fee,

Beside th'eternal throne of Jove, Is, that I ramble loose and free:

And measures forth with unwithdrawing hand The bard indeed full oft complains

The blessings of the various year, That rhymes are fetters, links, and chains;

Sunshine or show'r, and chides the madding And, when he wants to leap the fence,

tempeit. Still keeps him pris'ner to the fenfe.

With her the heaven-bred nymph, mcek Charity, Howe'er in common-place he rage,

Shall fashion Ontlow forth in fairest portrait; Rhyme’s like your fetters on the stage,

And with recording care Which when tne player once hath wore,

Weave the freth wrcathe that flow'ring virtue It makes lim only strut the more,

claims. While, raving in pathetic strains,

But, oh, what muse shall join the band ? He thakes his legs to clank his chains.

He long has fojourn'd in the sacred haunts, From rhyme, as from a handfone face,

And knows cach whisp'ring grot and Nonsense acquires a kind of grace ;

glade I therefore give it all its fcope,

Trod by Apollo, and the light-foot Graces. That sense may unperceiv'd clope.

How then shall aukward gratitude, So Mrs of bafert tricks

And the presumption of uncutor'd duty, (I love a fling at politics)

Attune my numbers, all too rude? Amuse the nation, court, and king,

Little he recks the meed of such a song; With breaking F-kes, and hanging Byng;

Yet will I stretch aloof, And makc cach puny rogue a prey,

And when I tell of Courtesy, While they, the greater, flink away,

Of well-attemper'd Zeal, This fimile perhaps would strike,

Of awful Prudence foothing full Contention, If match'd with something more alike;

Where shall the lineaments agree Then take it dress'd a second time

But in thee, Onslow? You your wonted leave In Prior's Ease, and my Sublime.

Indulge me, nor misdcem a soldier's bold cm. Say, did you never chance to meet

prize, A mob of people in the street,

Who in the dissonance of barb’rous war, Ready to give the robb'd relief,

Long train'd, revifits oft the sacred treasures And all in haste to catch a thief;

Of antique memory ; While the fly rogue, who filch'd the prey,

Or where fage Pindar reins his fiery car, Too close beset to run away,

Through the vast vault of Heaven fecure, Stop thief! stop thief! exclaims aloud,

Or what the Attic muse that Homer fill'd, And so escapes among the crowd?

Her other son, thy Milton taught, So Ministers, &c.

Or range the flow'ry fields of gentle Spenser. O England, how I mourn thy fate !

And, ever as I go, allurements vain For sure thy losses now are great;

Cherith a fecble fire, and feed my idle Tiro such what Briton can endure,

Fancy : oh could I once Minorca, and the Connoisseur!

Charm to their melody my thrilling reeds! To-day “, or c'er the sun goes down,

To Henries and to Edwards old, Will dic the Cenfor, Mr Town !

Dread names ! I'd meditate the faithful song; He dies, whoc'er takes pains to con him,

Or tell what time Britannia, With blushing honours thick upon him ;

Whilom the fairest daughter of old Ocean, O may his nainc these verses fave,

In loathly disarray, dull eyes, Be thiefe infcrib'd upon his grave!

And faded cheek, wept o'er her abject fons : “ Know, Reader, that on Thursday dicd,

Till William, great deliverer, “ The Connoiteur, a Suicide !

Led on the comcly train, gay Liberty, " Yet think not that his soul is fied,

Religion, matron staid, Nor rank him 'mongî the vulgar dead.

With all her kindred goddesses; Septemer 3cth, 1756, when Mr. Town, author of the Connoisseur, a periodical Essay (since published in four volumes, printed for R. Baldwin, London), took leave of his readers, with an humorous account of hin. felf.

+ This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the learned world, as a token of gra. titude for favours conferred on his father during the last war, whose character he has therein allumed.


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tray'd :

Justice with steady brow,

O lead my fteps beneath the moon's dim ray, Trim Plenty,laurcat Peace, and green-hair’dCom- Where Tadmor stands all desert and alone! merce,

Whilc from her time-shook tow'ss the bird of In Howing vest of thousand hues.

prey Fain would I ìhadow oui old Bourbon's pilo Sounds thro’the night her long-resounding moan. Tott'ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ning Or bear me far to yon dark dismal plain, cuib'rous fail;

Where fell-eyed tygers, all athirst for blood,
Or trace our navy, where in tow’ring pride

Howl to the defart; while the horrid train
O'er the wide-livelling waste it rolls avengeful. Roams o'er the wild where ance great Babel
As when collected clouds

Forth from the gloomy fouth, in decp array,
Athwart the dark’ning landscape throng,

That queen of nations! whose superior call Fraught with loud forms, and thunder's dread-Rous’d the broad Eaft, and bid her arins deftroy! ful peal,

When warm'd to mirth, Ict judgnientmark herfall,
At which the murd'rer stands aghaft,

And deep reflection dash the lip of joy.
And wasting Riot ill diffembles terror.

Short is Ambition's gay deceitful dream;
How headlong Rhone and Ebro, erst distain's Though wreaths of blooning laurel bind her
With Moorith carnage, quakes thro' all her brow;
branches !

Calm thought difpeis the visionary scheme,
Soon shall I greet the morn,

And Time's cold breath ditfolves the withering
When Europesav'd, Britain and George's name, bough.

Shall found o'er Flandria's level field,
Familiar in domestic merriment;

Slow as some miner saps th’aspiring tou’r,

When working secret with destructive aim,
Or by the jolly mariner
Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube.

Unseen, unheard, thus moves the stealing hour,

But works the full of cmpire, pomp, and name. The just memorial of fair deeds

Then lèt thy pencil mark the traits of man;
Still fourithes, and, like th’untainted soul,

Full in the draught be keen-eyed Hope por-
Blossoms in freshest age, above
The weary ficth, and envy's rankling wound. Let flutt'ring Cupids crowd the growing plan :
Such, after years mature,

Then give one touch, and dath it dcep with shade.
In full account thall be thy meed.
Oh may your rising hope

Bencath the plume that fames with glancing
Well principled in ev'ry virtue bloom !

Till a fresh-Springing flock implore

Be Care's deep engines on the soul impressa;
With infant hands agrandfre's pow'rful pray’r, Beneath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze
Or round your honour'd couch their prattling Let Grief fit pining in the canker'd breast.
sports pursue.

Let Love's gay fons, a smiling train, appear,

With Beauty pierc'd-yet heedless of the dart;
§ 114. Ode to Melancholy. OGILVIE. While, closely couch'd, pale sick’ning Envy ncar
HAIL, queen of thought fublime ! propitious Whuts her fell fting, and points it at thc heart.

Perch'd like a raven on some blasted yew,
Who o'er th’ unbounded waste art joy'd to roam, Let Guilt revolve the thought-distracting fin;
Led by the moon, when at the midnight hour Scar'd—while her eyes survey th' cthereal blue,
Her pale rays tremble thro' the dusky gloom. Left heaven's strong lightning burft the dark

O bear me, goddess, to thy peaceful feat!
Whether to Hecla's cloud-wrapt brow convey'd, Then paint impending o’er the maddening deep
Or lodg'd where mountains screen thy deep re- That rock where heart-struck Sappho, vainly

Or wand'ring wild thro' Chili's boundless shade. Stood firm of foul--then from the dizzy steep
Say, rove thy steps o'er Lybia's naked waste? Impetuous sprung, and dah'd the boiling wave.
Or feek fome distant folitary shore ?

Here wrapt in studious thought let Fancy rovc,
Or, on the Andes' topmost mountain plac'd,

Still prompt to mark Suspicion's secret fnare ;
Doft fit, and hear the folcmn thunder roar ? To fee where Anguish nips the bloom of Love,
Fix'd on some hanging rock's projected brow,

Or trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care.
Hearst thou low murmurs from the distant dome: Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes inflame,
Or stray thy feet where pale dejected Woc Let judging Reafon draw the veil alide;
Pours her long wail from fome lamented tomb : Or, fir'd with envy at fome mighty name,
Hark! yon decp echo strikes the trembling ear! Read o'er the monument that tells—IIc dicd.
See night's dun curtain wraps the darkfome pole! What are the ensigns of imperial fivay
O'er heaven's blue arch yon rolling worlds ap. What all that Fortune's lib'ral hand has brought?

Tcach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay?
And roule to folemn thought th' aspiring foul. Or rouse the foul to more cxalted thought?


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When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms un- O’er yon bleak desart's unfrequented round

Seeft thou where Nature treads the deep'ning
When incits the eve o'er Virtue's mournful bier; gloom,
Not wealth, but pity, swells the bursting groan; Sits on yon hoary tow'r with ivy crown'd,
Not pow'r, but whilp'ring Nature, prompts the Or wildly wails o'er thy lamented tomb;

Hear'st thou the folemn music wind along?
Say, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,

Orthrills the warbling note in thy mellifluous song?
Where the worm fattens on some scepter'd brow,

1. 2.
Beneath that roof with sculptur’d marble fraught, | Oft while on earth 'twas thine to rove
Why sleeps unmov'd the breathlefs dust below? Where'er the wild-eyed goddess lov’d to roam,
Sleeps it more sweetly than the simple fwain,

To trace serene the gloomy grove,
Beneath some mosly turf that refts his head;

Or haunt meck Quiet's simple dome; Where the lone widow tells the night her pain, Still hovering round the Nine appear, And eve with dewy tears embalins the dead?

That pour the soul-transporting strain;

Join’d to the Loves' gay train,
The lily, screen'd from ev'ry ruder gale, The loose-rob'd Graces crown'd with flow'rs,
Courts not the cultur'd fpot where roles spring: The light-wing'd gales that lead the vernal year,
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale, And wake the rosy-featur'd hours.
And scents the zephyr's balmy breathing wing. O'cr all bright Fancy's beamy radiance shone,
The busts of grandeur and the pomp

of pow'r, How flam'd thy bofom as her charms reveal ! Can these bid Sorrow's gushing tears sublide?

Her fire-clad eye tublime, her starry zone, Can these avail in that tremendous hour,

Her treffus loose that wanton'd on the gale ; When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide ? On thee the goddess fix'd her ardent lock, Ah no! the mighty names are heard no more :

Then from her glowing lips these melting accents

broke: Pride's thought lublime, and Beauty's kindling

bloom, Serve but to sport one flying moment o’er,

" To thee, my favourite son, belong And swell with pompous veise th' escutcheon'd

“ The lays that steal the listening hour;

“ To pour the rapture-darting tong, tomb.

“ To paint gay Hope's Elyfian bow'r. For me-may Passion ne'er my soul invade, “ From Nature's hand to inatch the dart, Nor be the whims of tow'ring Phrenzy giv’n; “ To cleave with pangs the bleeding heart; Let Wealth ne'er court me from the peaceful “ Or lightly sweep the trembling string, shade,

“ And call the Loves with purple wing, Where Contemplation wings the soul to Heaven! “ From the blue deep, where they dwell Oh guard me safe from Joy's enticing snare !

“ With Naiads in the pearly cell, With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide,

“ Soft on the fea-born goddess gaze t; The poiton'd breath of flow-consuming Care,

“ Or in the loose robe's floating maze, The noise of Folly, and the dreams of Pride.

“ Diffolv'd in downy slumbers rest;

" Or flutter o'er her panting breast. But oft, when midnight's fadly folemn knell

“ Or wild to melt the yielding soul, Sounds long and distant from the sky-topt tow'r,

“ Let Sorrow, clad in lable stole, Calm let me sit in Prosper's lonely cell; 16 Slow to thy musing thought appear ; Or walk with Milton thro’ the dark obscure.

“ Or pensive Pity palc ; Thus, when the transient dream of life is Aed, “ Or Love's desponding tale

[tear." May fomc fad friend recal the former years; “ Call from th' intender'd heart the sympathetic Then, stretch'd in filence o'er my dusty bed,

II. 1. Pour the warm guth of sympathetic tears !

Say, whence the magic of thy mind?

Why thrills thy music on the springs of thoughts $ 115. Ode to the Genius of Sbakespeare. Why, at thy pencil's touch refin'd,

OGILVIE. Starts into life the glowing draught?

On yonder fairy carpet laid,
RAPT from the glance of mortal eyes

Where beauty pours eternal bloom, Say, bursts thy Genius to the world of light? And zephyr breathes perfume; Secks it yon ftar-bctpangled sky?

There nightly to the tranced eye
Or skims its fields with rapid fight?

Profuse the radiant goddess stood display'd,
Or, mid yon plains where Fancy strays, With all her finiling offspring nigh.
Courts it the balmy breathing gale ?

Sudden the mantling cliff, the arching wood,
Or where the violit pale

The broider'd mead, the landskip, and the grove, Droops o'er the green-embroider'd stream; Hills, vales, and sky-dipt seas, and torrents rudc, Or where young Zephyr stirs the ruilling prays, Grots, rills, and shades, and bow'rs that breath'd Lies all dittolv in fairy dream.

of love,

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* See Shakespeare's Tempeít.

+ Venus.


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