"High favor'd man! for him unfolding fair My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay, No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave; So health and Peace be near my humble home, A cool-stream murmer, and a green tree wave. "So may the sweet Euterpe not disdain At Eve's chaste hour her silver lyre to bring; The Muse of pity wake her soothing strain, And tune to sympathy the trembling string. "Thus glide the pensive moments o'er the vale While floating shades of dusky night descend; Not left untold the lover's tender tale, Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend. "To love and friendship flow the social bowl! To attic wit and elegance of mind; To all the native beauties of the soul, The simple charms of truth, and sense refin'd! "Then to explore whatever antient sage ELEGY IV. OH! yet, ye dear, deluding visions, stay! For one wild dream of life's romantic morn. Ah! no: the sunshine o'er each object spread By flattering Hope, the flowers thatblewso fair;" Like the gay gardens of Armida fled, And vanish'd from the powerful rod of Care. So the poor pilgrim, who, in rapturous thought Plans his dear journey to Loretto's shrine, Seems on his way by guardian seraphs brought, Sees aiding angels favor his design. Ambrosial blossoms, such of old as blew By those fresh fonts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's roses all his passage strew: So Fancy dreams; but Fancy's dreams are vain Wasted and weary on the mountain's side, Or takes some ruthless robber for his guide, His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies, And prone beneath his cruel sabre dies. Life's morning landscape gilt with orient light, Where Hope and Joy and Fancy hold their reign, The grove's green wave, the blue stream sparkling bright, [wain: The blythe hours dancing round Hyperion's In radiant colors Youth's free hand portrays, age,Nor thinks how soon the vernal grove decays, Then holds the Hattering tablet to his eye; Studious from nature's early volume drew, To trace sweet Fiction through her golden And mark how fair the sun-flower, Science, blew! "Haply to catch some spark of eastern fire, Hesperian fancy, or Aonian ease; Some melting note from Sappho's tender lyre, Some strain that Love and Phoebus taught to please. “When waves the grey light o'er the mountain's head, Then let me meet the morn's first beauteous ray: Carelessly wander from my sylvan shed, And catch the sweet breath of the rising day, "Nor seldom, loit'ring as I muse along, Mark from what flower the breese its sweetness bore; Or listen to the labor-soothing song Of bees that range the thymy uplands o'er. "Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow, The greenheight gain'd, in museful rapturelie, Sleep to the murmur of the woods below, Or look on nature with a lover's eye. "Delightful hours! O, thus for ever flow; Led by fair fancy round the varied year: So shall my breast with native raptures glow, Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear. "Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth, Nor vainly wander from their dictates sage; So Joy shall triumph on the brows of youth, So hope shall smooth the dreary patlis of age. Nor sees the dark cloud gathering o'er the sky. Hence Fancy, conquer'd by the dart of Pain, And wandering far from her Platonic shade, Mourns o'er the ruins of her transient reign, Nor unrepining sees her visions fade. Their parent banish'd, hence her children fly Joy tears his wealth, and Hope inverts her eye, The fairy race that fill'd her festive train : And folly wonders that her dream was vain. 39. A Letter from Italy to the Right Honorable Charles Lord Halifax. In the year 1701. Addison. WHILE you, my Lord, the rural shades admire And from Britannia's public posts retire, Nor longer, her ungrateful sons to please, Me into foreign realms my fate conveys, For their advantage sacrifice your ease; Through nations fruitful of immortal lays, Where the soft season and inviting clime Conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme. For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes, Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise; Poetic fields encompass me around, And still I seem to tread on classic ground; For here the Muse so oft her harp has strung, That not a mountain rears its head unsung; Renown'd in verse each shady thicket grows, And ev'ry streain in heavenly numbers flows. A a How How am I pleas'd to search the hills and woods Yet run for ever by the Muse's skill, ་ With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys; Oh could the Muse my ravish'd breast inspire ments To nobler tastes, and more exalted scents; Immortal glories in my mind revive, Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd Their base degen'rate progeny upbraid; Whole rivers here forsake the fields below, And, wond'ring at their height, through airy channels flow. Still to new scenes my wand'ring Muse retires, And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires; Where the smooth chisel all its force has shown, And soften'd into flesh the rugged stone. In solemn silence, a majestic band, Heroes, and gods, and Roman consuls, stand ; Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, And emperors, in Parian marble frown; While the bright dames, to whom they humbly sued, Still show the charms that their proud hearts subdued. Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And show th immortal labors in my verse, Where from the mingled strength of shade and light, A new creation rises to my sight; Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, Here pleasing airs my ravish'd soul confound How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land, And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand! But what avail her unexhausted stores, Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores, With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart, The smiles of nature and the charms of art, While proud Oppression in her valleys reigns, And Tyranny usurps her happy plains? The poor inhabitant beholds in vain The redd'ning orange and the swelling grain; Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines, And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines; Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst, And in the loaded vineyard dies for thirst. Oh Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight! Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign, And smiling Plenty leads the wanton train; Eas'd of her load, Subjection grows more light, And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight; Thou mak'st the gloomy face of Nature gay, Giv'st beauty to the Sun, and pleasure to the Day. Thee, goddess, thec Britannia's isle adores; How has she oft exhausted all her stores, How oft, in field's of death, thy presence sought, Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought! On foreign mountains may the sun refine The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine; With citron groves adorn a distant soil, And the fat olive swell with floods of oil; We envy not the warmer clime, that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent skies; Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine, Tho'o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine: Others with tow'ring piles may please the sight, And in their proud aspiring domes delight; A nicer touch to the stretch'd canvas give, Or teach their animated rocks to live; 'Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate, And hold in balance each contending state; To threaten bold presumptuous kings with war, And answer her afflicted neghbour's pray'r. The Dane and Swede, rous'd up by fierce alarms, Bless the wise conduct of her pious arms; Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease, And all the northern world lies hush'd in peace. Th'ambitious Gaul beholds, with secret dread, Her thunder aim'd at his aspiring head, And fain her godlike sons would disunite By foreign gold, or by domestic spite; But strives in vain to conquer or divide, Whom Nassau's armis defend and commsels guide. Fir'd with the name which I so oft have found The distant climes and different tongues resound, I bridle in my struggling Muse with pain, That longs to launch into a bolder strain. But I've already troubled you too long, Nor dare attempt a more advent'rous song. My humble verse demands a, softer theme, A painted meadow, or a purling stream; Unfit for heroes; whom immortal lays, And lines like Virgil's or like yours, should praise. LL Ausonia's states, the victor to restrain, Behind their everlasting hills secur'd; Her ornaments in peace, her strength in war; "Omnis in hoc uno variis discordia cessit "Ordinibus; laetatur eques, plauditque senator, Votaque patricio certant plebeia favori." Claud. de Laud. Stilic. *Esse aliquam in terris gentem que sua impensa, suo labore ac periculo, bella gerat pro libertate ❝aliorum. Nec hoc finitimis, aut propinquæ vici-Her harvests for uncertain owners rise, "nitatis hominibus, aut terris continenti junctis Each vineyard doubtful of its master grows, præstet. Maria trajiciat: ne quod toto orbe ter- And to the victor's bowl each vintage flows. "rarum injustum imperium sit, et ubique jus, fas, The discontented shades of slaughter'd hosts lex, potentissima sint." That wander'd on the banks, her heroes ghosts, Hop'd when they saw Britannia's arms appear, The vengeance due to their great death was near. Liv. Hist. lib. 33. WHILE crowds of princes your deserts proclaim, Proud in their number to enrol your name; Our Godlike leader, ere the stream lic pass'd, The mighty scheme of all his labors cast. Forming the wondrous year within his thought, His bosom glow'd with battles yet unfought. The long laborious march he first surveys, And joins the distant Danube to the Maese; Between whose floods such pathless forests grow, Such mountains rise, so many rivers flow; The toil looks lovely in the hero's eyes, And danger serves but to enhance the prize. Big with the fate of Europe, he renews His dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues! Infected by the burning scorpion's heat, The sultry gales round his chiaf'd temples beat, Till on the borders of the Maine he finds Defensive shadows, and refreshing winds. A a 2 Out Our British youth, with in-born freedom bold, Eager for glory, and require the fight. [sues, The western sun now shot a feeble ray, And faintly scatter'd the remains of day: Ev'ning approach'd; but oh what hosts of foes Were never to behold that ev'ning close! Thick'ning their ranks, and wedg'd in firm array The close compacted Britons win their way; In vain the cannon their throng'd war defac'd With tracks of death, and laid the battle waste: Still pressing forward to the fight, they broke Thro' flames of sulphur and a night of smoke, Till slaughter'd legions fill'd the trench below, And bore their fierce avengers to the foe. High on the works the mingling hosts engage, The battle, kindled into ten-fold rage, With show'rs of bullets, and with storms of fire, Burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire; Nations with nations mix'd confus'dly die, And lost in one promiscuous carnage lie. How many gen'rous Britons meet their doom, New to the field, and heroes in their bloom! Th' illustrious youths, that left their native shore To march where Britons never march'd before (Oh fatal love of fame! oh glorious heat, Only destructive to the brave and great!) After such toils o'ercome, such dangers past, Stretch'don Bavarian ramparts,breathe their last. But hold, my Muse, may no complaints appear, Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear: While Marlb'ro' lives, Britannia's stars dispense A friendly light, and shine in innocence: Plunging through seas of blood his fiery steed Where'er his friends retire, or foes succeed; Those he supports, these drives to sudden flight; And turns the various fortune of the fight. Forbear, great man, renown'd in arms, forbear To brave the thickest terrors of the war; Nor hazard thus, confus'd in crowds of foer, Britannia's safety, and the world's repose ; · Let nations, anxious for thy life, abate This scorn of danger and contempt of fate: Thou liv'st not for thyself, thy Queen demands Conquest and peace from thy victorious hands; Kingdoms and empires in thy fortune join, And Europe's destiny depends on thine: At length the long-disputed pass they gain, By crowded armies fortified in vain; The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield, And see their camp with British legions fill'd. So Belgian mounds bear on their shatter'd sides The sea's whole weight, increas'd with swelling But if the rushing wave a passage finds, [tides; Enrag'd by wat'ry moons, and warring winds, The trembling peasant sees his country round Cover'd with tempests, and in oceans drown'd. The few surviving foes dispers'd in flight (Refuse of swords and gleanings of a fight) In ev'ry rustling wind the victor hear, And Marlborough's form in ev'ry shadow fear, Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace Befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace. To Donavert, with unresisted force, The gay victorious army bends its course. The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields, Whatever spoils Bavaria's summer yields (The Danube's great increase) Britannia shares, The food of armies and support of wars: With magazines of death, destructive balls, And cannon doom'd to batter Landau's walls; The The victor finds each hidden caveru stor'd, But now the trumpet, terrible from far, Though fens and floods possess the middle space; The fatal day its mighty course began, Behold in awful march and dread array Butoh, my Muse, what numbers wilt thou find But see the haughty household-troops advance! The rout begins, the Gallic squadrons run; |