Wide and wider spreads the vale,
As circles on a smooth canal:

The mountains round, unhappy fate!
Sooner or later, of all height,

Withdraw their fummits from the skies,
And leffen as the others rise.

Still the profpect wider spreads,

Adds a thousand woods and meads

Still it widens, widens ftill,
And finks the newly-rifen hill.

Now I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landscape lies below!
No clouds, no vapours, intervene ;
But the gay, the open scene,
Does the face of Nature fhew
In all the hues of heav'n's bow;
And, fwelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.
Old caftles on the cliffs arife,
Proudly tow'ring in the skies;
Rufhing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence afcending fires;
Half his beams Apollo sheds
On the yellow mountain heads,
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
And glitters on the broken rocks.

Below me trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dies:
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beech, the fable yew;
The flender fir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs;
And, beyond, the purple grove,
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!

Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,

Lies a long and level lawn,

On

On which a dark hill, fteep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye.
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood;
His fides are cloath'd with waving wood;
And ancient towers crown his brow,
That caft an awful look below;

Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps:
So both a fafety from the wind
On mutual dependence find.

"Tis now the raven's bleak abode;
'Tis now th' apartment of the toad;
And there the fox fecurely feeds,
And there the pois'nous adder breeds,
Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds;
While, ever and anon, there falls
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls.
Yet Time has seen, that lifts the low,
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has feen this broken pile compleat,
Big with the vanity of ftate:
But tranfient is the fmile of Fate!
A little rule, a little fway,

A fun-beam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.

And fee the rivers, how they run
Thro' woods and meads, in shade and fun!
Sometimes fwift, fometimes flow,
Wave fucceeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life, to endless fleep!
Thus is Nature's vefture wrought,
To inftruct our wand'ring thought;

}

Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landscape tire the view!
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies warm and low;
The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!

The pleasant feat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the fhady bow'r;
The town and village, dome and farm;
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the ev'ning gilds the tide,
How close and small the hedges lie!
What ftreaks of meadows cross the eye!
A step, methinks, may pass the stream,
So little diftant dangers feem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass.
As
yon fummits foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which, to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the same coarse way;
The prefent's still a cloudy day.

O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I fee!
Content me with an humble fhade,
My paffions tam'd, my wishes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the foul:
'Tis thus the bufy beat the air,
And mifers gather wealth and care.
Now, e'en now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain turf I lie;
P

}

While

While the wanton Zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the fhepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with mufick fill the sky,

Now, e'en now, my joys run high.

Be full, ye courts! be great, who will ;
Search for Peace with all your skill:
Open wide the lofty door;

Seek her on the marble floor:

}

ELEGY.

BY DANIEL HAYES, ESQ

Vade, liber, verbifque meis loco grata faluta; Fortunæ memorem te decet

A

effe meæ.

H! what avails this short fublunar sphere?

Why wish to act in the fantastick scene;
Subject at best to many a doubt and fear,
Too oft to cold neglect, and certain pain ?

Why

Why does vain man his fondest wishes pour?

Why do his earliest pray'rs attack the sky,. To stretch the space of each contracted hour? Say, is it then fo terrible to die?

What joys hath life to counterpoise it's cares.?
What sweets to recompenfe for all it's woes?
Lo! Av'rice gnaws, and fell Ambition tears
The racking breaft with hell's united throes.

Lo! fquinting Jealoufy's unfettled frown;

Lo! haggard Envy, with her bloodshot eye,
Sick'ning at noble deeds and fair renown,
And circulating still th' envenom'd lye.

And creeping Fraud, with well diffembled leer,
Exerts her base infinuating art,

Watching the gen'rous ftripling's prone career,
To circumvent his unfufpecting heart.

Nor thefe alone embitter th' irksome way,
That leads to chequer'd life's uncertain goal;
Pandora's minifters, a dread array,

Convulse the sense, and rack the tortur'd foul.

Who but has feen the Epileptick rage,

With wild diftortion rend the alter'd frame;

The Palfy, fad concomitant of age,

And thirsty Fever's all-devouring flame!

*That fell disease *, which o'er th' enchanting face
The hideous veil of rugged horror throws;
The Dropfy, ever fwol'n with foul increase,
And pamper'd Gout's excruciating woes.