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Nor in the Thefpian vallies did you play;
Nor then on Mincio's bank*
Befet with offers dank;

Nor where Clitumnus + rolls his gentle ftreain;

Nor where, thro' hanging woods,
Steep Anio pours his floods;

Nor

yet where Mcles or Iliffus § ftray. Ill does it now befcem,

That, of your guardian care bereft, To dire difeafe and death your darling fhould be left.

Now what avails it, that in early blooin,
When light fantaftic toys

Are all her fex's joys,

With you the fearch'd the wit of Greece
and Rome;

And all that in her latter days,
To emulate her ancient praife,
Italia's happy genius could produce;
Or what the Gallic fire

Bright fparkling could infpire,
By all the Graces temper'd and refin'd;
Or what, in Britain's ifle,

Moft favour'd with your fimile,
The pow'rs of Reafon and of Fancy join'd
To full perfection have confpir'd to raife?
Ah! what is now the ufe

Of all these treafures that enrich'd her mind, To black Oblivion's gloom for ever now con

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fign'd'!

At least, ye Nine, her fpotlefs name
'Tis yours from death to fave,
And in the temple of immortal Fame
With golden characters her worth engrave.
Come then, ye virgin fifters, come,
And ftrew with choiceft flowers her hal-
low'd tomb;

But foremost thou, in fable vestment clad,
With accents fweet and fad, [ra's urn
Thou plaintive Mufe, whom o'er his Lau-
Unhappy Petrarch call'd to mourn;
O come, and to this fairer Laura pay
A more impaffion'd tear, a more pathetic lay!

Tell how each beauty of her mind and face
Was brighten'd by fome fweet peculiar
How eloquent in cv'ry look [grace!

Thro' her expreffive eyes her foul distinctly
Ipoke!

[fin'd,

Tell how her manners, by the world re-
Left all the taint of modifh vice behind,
And made each charm of polish'd courts
With candid Truth's fimplicity,
And uncorrupted Innocence!
Tell how to more than manly fenfe
She join'd the foft'ning influence

[agree

Of more than female tenderness : How, in the thoughtlefs days of wealth and joy, Which oft the care of others good destroy, Her kindly melting heart, To every want and every woe, To guilt itfelf when in diftrefs, The balm of pity would impart, And all relief that bounty could beftow! E'en for the kid or lamb, that pour'd its life Beneath the bloody knife,

Her gentle tears would fall;

[all.

Tears from fweet Virtue's fource, benevolent to
Not only good and kind,

But ftrong and elevated was her mind:
A fpirit that, with noble pride,
Could look fuperior down

On Fortune's fmile or frown;
That could, without regret or pain,
To Virtue's lowest duty facrifice
Or Int'reft or Ambition's highest prize;
That, injur'd or offended, never try'd
Its dignity, by vengeance, to maintain,
But by magnanimous difdain.
A wit, that temperately bright,
With inoffenfive light

All pleafing fhone; nor ever paft [hand,
The decent bounds that Wifdom's fober
And fwect Benevolence's mild command,
And bathful Modefty, before it caft.
A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'd,
That nor too little nor too much believ'd;
That fcorn'd unjuft Sufpicion's coward fear,
And, without weaknefs, knew to be fincere,
Such Lucy was, when, in her fairest days,
Amidft th'acclaim of univerfal praife,

In life's and glory's fretheft bloom, Death came remorfclefs on, and funk her to the tomb.

So, where the filent ftreams of Liris glide,
In the foft bofom of Campania's vale,
When now the wint'ry tempefts all are fled,
And genial fummer breathes her gentle gale,
The verdant orange lifts its beauteous head;
From ev'ry branch the balmy flow'rets rife,
On ev'ry bough the golden fruits are feen;
With odours fweet it fills the fmiling fkies;
The wood-nymphs tend it, and th'Įdalian

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The Mincio runs by Mantua, the birth-place of Virgil.

The Clitumnus is a river of Umbria, the refidence of Propertius.

The Anio runs thro' Tibui or Tivoli, where Horace had a villa.

The Meles is a river in Ionia, from whence Homer, fuppofed to be born on its banks, is called Mellifigenes.

The Iliffus is a river at Athens.

Arife, and hither bring the filver lyre, Tun'd by thy fkilful hand, To the foft notes of elegant defire, With which o'er many a land Was fpread the fame of thy difaftrous love; To me refign the vocal thell, And teach my forrows to relate Their melancholy tale fo well, As may e'en things inanimate, [move. Rough mountain oaks and defart rocks, to pity

What were, alas! thy woes, compar❜d to mine ?

To thee thy miftrefs in the blissful band

Of Hymen never gave her hand;

The joys of wedded love were never thine.
In thy domeftic care

She never bore a share,
Nor with endearing art

Would heal thy wounded heart
Of every fecret grief that fofter'd there:
Nor did her fond affection on the bed
Of fickness watch thee, and thy languid head
Whole nights on her unwearied arm fuftain,
And charm away the fenfe of pain:
Nor did the crown your mutual flame
With pledges dear,andwith a father's tender name.
O beft of wives! O dearer far to me
Than when thy virgin charms
Were yielded to my arms;
How can my foul endure the lofs of thee?
How in the world (to me a defart grown,
Abandon'd and alone)

Without my fweet companion can I live?
Without thy lovely fimile,

The dear reward of every virtuous toil, What pleafures now can pall'd Ambition give? E'en the delightful sense of well-earn'd praife, Unfhar'd by thee, no more my lifeless thoughts could raife.

For my diftracted mind
What fuccour can I find?

On whom for confolation fhall I call?
Support me, ev'ry friend;

Your kind affiftance lend,

To bear the weight of this oppreffive woe.
Alas! each friend of mine,

My dear departed love, fo much was thine,
That none has any comfort to bestow.
My books, the best relief

In every other grief,

Are now with your idea fadden'd all :

Each favourite author we together read,

O fatal, fatal stroke!

That all this pleafing fabric Love had rais’d Of rare felicity,

On which ev'n wanton Vice with envy gaz'd, And ev'ry fcheme of blifs our hearts had form'd, With foothing hope for many a future day,

In one fad moment broke!

Yet, O my foul! thy rifing murmurs stay;
Nor dare th'all-wife Difpofer to arraign,

Or against his fupreme decree
With impious grief complain.

That all thy full-blown joys at once should fade, Was his moft righteous will-and be that will obey'd!

Would thy fond love his grace to her controul;
And, in thefe low abodes of fin and pain,
Her pure exalted foul,

Unjustly, for thy partial good, detain?
No-rather ftrive thy grovelling mind to raise
Up to that unclouded blaze,

That heavenly radiance of eternal light,
In which enthron'd, the now with pity fecs
How frail, how infecure, how flight,

Is ev'ry mortal blifs;

Ev'n Love itself, if rifing by degrees
Beyond the bounds of this imperfe&t state,
Whole flecting joys fo foon muft end,
It does not to its fovereign good afcend.

Rife then, my foul, with hope clate,
And feck thofe regions of ferene delight,
Whofe peaceful path, and ever open gate,
No feet but thofe of harden'd Guilt fhall mifs:
There Death himself thy Lucy fhali reftore;
There yield up all his power, ne'er to divide you

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[fec; And cruel was my mother, that fuch a fight could And cruel is the wint'ry wind, that chills my heart with cold; [for gold!

But crueller than all, the lad that left my love

Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breaft;

[treft;

My tortur'd memory wounds, and fpeaks of Ah! little thinks thy father how fadly we're dif

Lucy dead."

We were the happiest pair of human kind:
The rolling year its various courfe perform'd,
And back return'd again:
Another, and another, fmiling came,
And faw our happiness unchang'd remain.
Still in her golden chain
Harmonious Concord did our wifhes bind:
Our studies, pleafures, tafte, the fame.

For cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare, He'd fhield us in his arms from this bitter pierc.

ing air.

Cold, cold, my dearcft jewel! thy little life is gone: Oh! let my tears revive thee, fo warm that trickle down: [they fall:

My tears that gush so warm, oh they freeze before Ah, wretched, wretched mother! thou'rt now bereft of all."

Then

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§ 105.
Audite voces, vagitus et ingens,
Infantumque animæ flentes in limine primo.
VIRG.

The School Miftrefs. In Imitation of Spenfer.
SHENSTONE.

AH me! full forely is my heart forlorn,

To think how modeft worth neglected lies, While partial Fame doth with her blafts adorn Such deeds alone as pride and pomp difguife; Deeds of ill fort, and mifchievous emprize : Lend me thy clarion, Goddess! 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 fpire, Embow'r'd in trees, and hardly known to Fame,

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 relentles dame, And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent, For unkempt hair, or tafk unconn'd, are forely thent.

And all in fight doth rife a birchen trec,

Which Learning near her little dome did Whilome a twig of fmall regard to fee, [ftow, Tho' now fo wide its waving branches flow, And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe; For not a wind night 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. So have I feen (who has not, may conceive) A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd; So doth it wanton birds of peace bercave

Of sport, of song, of pleature, of repast : They start, they ftare, they wheel, they look aghaft;

Sad fervitude! fuch comfortless annoy May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste! Ne fuperftition clog his dance of joy, Ne vifion empty, vain, his native blifs destroy. Near to this dome is found a patch fo On which the tribe their gambols do difplay; And at the door impris'ning board is feen, Left weakly wights of finaller fize fhould ftray,

green,

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Her cap, far whiter than the driven fnow,

Emblem right meet of decency does yield; Her apron, dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the harc-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 fharp affliction join'd; And fury uncontroul'd, and chaftifement unkind.

Few but have kenn'd, in femblance meet pourtray'd,

The childish faces of old ol's train, Libs, Notus, Aufter*: these in frowns array'd,

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 fatutes to maintai,

The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell

Edwell Where comely peace of mind and decent order A ruffet ftole was o'er her fhoulders thrown; A rulet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air; 'Twas fimple ruilet, but it was her own:

'Twas her own country bred the lock 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; And think, no doubt, the been the greatest wight For they in gaping wonderment abound, on ground.

Albeit, ne flatt'ry did corrupt her truth;

Ne pompous title did debauch her ear; Goody, good-woman, gotlip, n'aunt, forfooth, Or dame, the fole additions the did hear; Yet thefe fhe challeng'd, thefe the hell right dear:

Ne would efteem him act as mought behove, Who fhould not honor'd eld with thefe revere; For never title yet fo mean could prove, But there was eke a mind which did that title love.

One ancient hen fhe took delight to feed,
The plodding pattern of the bufy dame,
Which ever and anon, impell'd by need,

Into her fchool, begirt with chickens, came;
Such favour did her paft deportment clain:
And if neglect had lavifh'd on the ground
Fragment of bread, the would collect the fame;
For well fhe knew, and quaintly could ex-
pound,
What fin it were to waste the smallest crumb the

found.

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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 ftreak, But herbs for use and phyfic, not a few, Of grey renown, within thofe 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;

And marj'ram fweet, in fhepherd's pofie found;

And lavender, whofe fpikes of azure bloom Shall be, erewhile, in arid bundles bound,

To lurk amidft the labours of her loom, And crown her kerchiefs clean with mickle rare perfume.

And here trim rofemarine,that whilom crown'd
The daintieft garden of the proudest peer,
Ere, driven from its envy'd fite, it found

A facred fhelter for its branches here; Where edg'd with gold its glitt'ring skirts appear.

O waffel days! O cuftoms meet and well! Ere this was banish'd from its lofty sphere; Simplicity then fought this humble cell, Nor ever would fhe more with thane and lordling dwell.

Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve,
Hymned fuch pfalms as Sternhold forth did

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 ev'ry string, Up-hung their useless lyres-finall 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 matron fate and fome with rank fhe

grac'd;

[pride!) (The fource of childrens and of courtier's 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 the knew each temper to defcry; Tothwart the proud, and the fubmifs to raife; Some with vile copper prize exalt on high,

And fome entice with pittance fmall of praife; And other fome with baleful sprig the 'frays: E'en abfent, fhe 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 whilper in her ear, and all the fcene un

fold.

Lo! now with ftate fhe utters the command!
Eftfoons the urchins to their tafks repair;
Their books of ftature fmall, they take in hand,
Which with pellucid horn fecured are,
To fave from finger wet the letters fair.

The work fo gay, that on their back is feen, St. George's high atchievements does declare, On which thilk wight that has ygazing been, [ween! Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleafing fight I

Ah! lucklefs he, and born beneath the beam
Of evil ftar! it irks me whilst I write!
As erft the bard, by Mulla's filver stream,
Oft as he told of deadly dolorous plight,
Sigh'd as he fung, and did in tears indite;
For, brandifhing the rod, fhe doth begin
To loose the brogues, the stripling's late de-
light!

And down they drop; appears his dainty
Fair as the furry coat of whiteft ermilin. [fkin,
O ruthful scene! when from a nook obfcure
His little fifter doth his peril fee;
All playful as the fat, fhe grows demure;
She finds full foon her wonted fpirits flee
She meditates a pray'r to fet him free;

Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) To her fad grief that fwells in either eye,

The times when Truth by Popifh rage did And wrings her fo, that all for pity she could die.

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 mould'ring flames did

burn:

Ah, dearest Lord! forefend thilk days should e'er

return.

In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish ftem,

By the sharp tooth of cank'ring Eld defac'd,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Our fovereign prince and liefeft licge is
plac'd,

No longer can fhe now her fhrieks command; And hardly the forbears, thro' awful fear, To rufhen forth, and, with prefumptuous hand,

To stay harsh 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 domestic vifage near,

And foon a flood of tears begin to flow, And gives a loofe at last to unavailing woe. But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace! Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his difguised face? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain!

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The plenteous fhow'r that docs his check diftain?

When he in abject wife implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of fweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high fhe levels well her aim, And thro' the thatch his cries each falling ftroke proclaim.

The other tribe, aghaft, with fore dismay

Attend, and con their tasks with mickle By turns, aftony'd, ev'ry twig furvey, [care; And from their fellow's hateful wounds beware, [fhare; Knowing, I wift, how each the fame may 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 [fweet!

greet,

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And gingerbread y-rare,
now, certes, doubly
See, to their feats they hye with merry glee,
And in befeemly order fitten there,
All but the wight of bum y-galled; he [chair
Abhorreth bench, and ftool, and fourm, and
(This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends
his hair)
[breaft,
And eke with fnubs profound, and heaving
Convulfions intermitting! does declare

His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust
beheft,
[carefs'd.

And fcorns her offer'd love, and fhuns to be
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 imear'd and fully'd by a vernal show'r. ✪ the hard bofoms of defpotic pow'r!

All, all, but the, the author of his fhame; All, all but fhe, regret this mournful hour: Yet hence the youth, and hence the flow'r, fhall claim,

If so 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 aught,

But to the wind all merriment reigns, And deems it fhame if he to peace inclines; And many a fullen look afkaunce is fent, Which for his dame's annoyance he designs; And fill the more to pleature him the's bent, The more doth he, perverfe, her 'haviour paft refent.

Ah, me! how much I fear left pride it be!

But if that pride it be, which thus infpires, Beware ye dames! with nice difcernment, fee Ye quench not too the parks of nobler fires: Ah! better far than all the Mufes lyres

(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 pumps for ill, or flow'ry falfe deceit.

Yet, nurs'd with fkill, what dazzling fruits appear!

E'en now fagacious forefight points to show A little bench of heedlefs bishops here,

And there a chancellor in embryo,
Or bard fublime, if bard may c'er be fo;
As Milton, Shakefpeare, names that ne'er
fhall die!

Tho'now he crawls along the ground fo low;
Nor weeting how the Mufe fhould foar on

high, [fly, Wifheth, poor ftarv'ling elf! his paper kite may And this, perhaps, who cens'ring the defign, Low lays the houfe which that of cards doth build,

Shall Dennis be! if rigid Fates incline;

And many an epic to his rage fhall yield, And many a poet quit th'Aonian field:

And four'd by age, profound he shall appear, As he who now, with 'fdainful fury thrill'd,

Surveys mine work, and levels many a fneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, What

ftuff is here?'

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But now Dan Phœbus gains the middle sky, And Liberty unbars her prifon door; And, like a rushing torrent, out they fly,

And now the graily cirque han cover'd o'er With boift'rous revel-rout and wild uproar.

A thoufand ways in wanton rings they run; Heav'n fhield their fhort-liv'd paftimes, I implore!

For well may Freedom erft fo dearly won, Appear to British elf more gladfome than thefun.

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; [fpring Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can Beneath the pompous dome of kefar or of king.

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