Page images
PDF
EPUB

While the bright dames, to whom they humbly fu'd, Still show the charms that their proud hearts subdu'd.

Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And show th' immortal labours in my verse, Where from the mingled ftrength of fhade and light A new creation rifes to my fight,

Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with life his blended colours glow.
From theme to theme with fecret pleasure toft,
Amidst the foft variety I'm loft:

Here pleafing airs my ravisht foul confound
With circling notes and labyrinths of found;
Here domes and temples rife in distant views,
And opening palaces invite my Muse.

96

[ocr errors]

ICO

How has kind heav'n adorn'd the happy land,
And scatter'd bleffings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhaufted ftores,

Her blooming mountains, and her funny fhores,
With all the gifts that heav'n and earth impart,
The fmiles of nature, and the charms of art, 110
While proud Oppreffion in her valleys reigns,
And Tyranny ufurps her happy plains?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain

The red'ning orange and the fwelling grain :
Joylefs he fees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines:
Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curft,
And in the loaden vineyard dies for thirst.

115

Oh Liberty, thou goddess heav'nly bright, Profufe of bliss, and pregnant with delight! 120 Eternal pleasures in thy prefence reign,

And fmiling Plenty leads thy wanton train;
Eas'd of her load Subjection grows more light,
And Poverty looks chearful in thy fight;
Thou mak'ft the gloomy face of Nature gay, 125
Giv'ft beauty to the fun, and pleasure to the day.

131

Thee, goddess, thee, Britannia's ifle adores; How has fhe oft exhaufted all her ftores, How oft in fields of death thy presence fought, Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought! On foreign mountains may the fun refine The grape's foft juice, and mellow it to wine, With citron groves adorn a distant soil, And the fat olive fwell 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 heav'n repine, Tho' o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads fhine:

'Tis Liberty that crown's Britannia's isle,

145

And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains fmile.

Others with tow'ring piles may please the fight, And in their proud afpiring domes delight; A nicer touch to the stretcht 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, 146
To threaten bold presumptuous kings with war,
And answer her afflicted neighbour's pray'r.
The Dane and Swede, rous'd up by fierce alarms,
Blefs the wife conduct of her pious arms:
Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease,
And all the northern world lies hush'd in peace.

150

155

Th' ambitious Gaul beholds with fecret dread Her thunder aim'd at his afpiring head, And fain her godlike fons would disunite By foreign gold or by domeftic spite: But strives in vain to conquer or divide, Whom Naffau's arms defend and counfels guide.

Fir'd with the name, which I fo oft have found The diftant climes and diff'rent tongues refound, I bridle in my struggling Mufe with pain, That longs to lanch into a bolder ftrain.

But I've already troubled you too long, Nor dare attempt a more advent'rous fong. My humble verfe demands a fofter theme, A painted meadow, or a purling ftream; Unfit for heroes; whom immortal lays,

165

And lines like Virgil's, or like yours, shou'd praise.

TO HIS PERJUR'D MISTRESS.

FROM HORACE.

Nox erat, & cælo fulgebat luna fereno, &c.

BY THOMAS YALDEN, D. D.*

Ιτ was one evening, when the rifing moon
Amidst her train of stars distinctly shone;
Serene and calm was the inviting night,
And heav'n appear'd in all its luftre bright;
When you, Neæra, you, my perjur'd fair, 5
Did, to abuse the gods and me prepare.
'Twas then you swore, remember, faithlefs maid,
With what indearing arts you then betray'd:
Remember all the tender things that past,
When round my neck your willing arms were caft;
The circling ivys when with oaks they join,
Seem loose, and coy, to those fond arms of thine.
Believe, you cry'd, this folemn vow believe,
The nobleft pledge that love and I can give;
Or if there's ought more facred here below,
Let that confirm my oath to heav'n and you.

II

[ocr errors]

If e'er my breast a guilty flame receives,

20

Or covets joys, but what thy prefence gives;
May ev'ry injur'd pow'r affert thy caufe,
And Love avenge his violated laws:
While cruel beasts of prey infeft the plain,
And tempefts rage upon the faithless main:
While fighs and tears shall liftning virgins move,
So long, ye powers, will fond Neæra love.

Ah faithlefs charmer, lovely perjur'd maid!
Are thus my vows, and generous flame repaid?
Repeated flights I have too tamely bore,
Still doated on, and still been wrong'd the more.
Why do I listen to that Syren's voice,

Love ev'n thy crimes, and fly to guilty joys! 30 Thy fatal eyes my beft refolves betray,

My fury melts in foft defires away:

Each look, each glance, for all thy crimes attone, Elude my rage, and I'm again undone.

But if my injur'd foul dares yet be brave, Unless I'm fond of shame, confirm'd a slave, I will be deaf to that enchanting tongue, Nor on thy beauties gaze away my wrong. At length I'll loath each prostituted grace, Nor court the leavings of a cloy'd embrace;

35

40

But show, with manly rage, my soul's above

The cold returns of thy exhaufted love.

Then thou shalt justly mourn at my disdain,

Find all thy arts, and all thy charms in vain :

« PreviousContinue »