And these fad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that abfence, they attempt to mourn.
Oh! muft I then (now fresh my bofom bleeds,
And Craggs in death to Addison fucceeds)
The verse, begun to one loft friend, prolong,
And weep a second in th' unfinish'd fong!

100

Thefe works divine, which on his death-bed laid, To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring Sage convey'd, Great, but ill-omen'd monument of fame, Nor he furviv'd to give, nor thou to claim. Swift after him thy focial spirit flies, And close to his, how foon! thy coffin lies.

110

Bleft pair! whofe union future bards shall tell
In future tongues: each other's boast! farewel.
Farewel! whom join'd in fame, in friendship try'd,
No chance could fever, nor the grave divide,

THE FATAL CURIOSITY,

BY THE SAME.

MUCH had I heard of fair Francelia's name, The lavish praises of the babler, Fame:

I thought them fuch, and went prepar'd to pry, And trace the charmer with a critick's eye,

Refolv'd to find fome fault, before unspy'd,
And disappointed, if but fatisfy'd.

Love pierc'd the vaffal heart, that durft rebel,
And, where a judge was meant, a victim fell:
On those dear eyes, with sweet perdition gay,
I gaz'd, at once, my pride and foul away;
All o'er I felt the luscious poison run,

And, in a look, the hafty conqueft won.

10

Thus the fond moth around the taper plays, And sports and flutters near the treach❜rous blaze; Ravish'd with joy, he wings his eager flight, 15 Nor dreams of ruin in fo clear a light;

He tempts his fate, and courts a glorious doom, A bright deftruction, and a shining tomb.

RETIREMENT.

AN ODE.

BY THOMAS WARTON THE ELDER.

I.

ON beds of daifies idly laid,
The willow waving o'er my head,
Now morning on the bending stem
Hangs the round, and glittering gem;
Lull'd by the lapse of yonder spring, 5
Of nature's various charms I fing:
Ambition, pride, and pomp adieu!
For what has Joy to do with you ?

II.

10

Joy, rofe-lipt Dryad, loves to dwell
In funny field, or moffy cell,
Delights on echoing hills to hear

The reaper's fong, or lowing fteer,
Or view with ten-fold plenty spread
The crowded corn-field, blooming mead;
While beauty, health, and innocence,
Transport the eye, the foul, the sense.

III.

Not frefco'd roofs, not beds of state, Not guards that round a monarch wait, Not crowds of flatterers can scare

From loftiest courts intruding Care: 20
Midst odours, fplendors, banquets, wine,
Whilft minstrels found, while tapers shine,
In fable ftole fad Care will come,
And darken the gay drawing-room.
IV.

Nymphs of the groves, in green array'd,
Conduct me to your thickest shade, 26
Deep in the bofom of the vale,
Where haunts the lonesome nightingale;
Where Contemplation, maid divine,
Leans against some aged pine,

Wrapt in ftedfast thought profound,
Her eyes fix'd ftedfast on the ground.

V.

O virtue's nurse! retired queen, By faints alone and hermits feen, Beyond vain mortals' wishes wife,

Teach me St. James's to despise;

39

35

For what are crowded courts, but schools For fops, or hofpitals for fools?

Where flaves and madmen, young and old,

Meet to adore fome calf of gold.

T. WARTON THE ELDER. 283

AN

INVOCATION

TO A

WATER- N Y M P H.

BY THE SAME.

FAIR pearl-crown'd nymph, whose gushing torrent

laves

This marble rock with hollow-tinkling waves;
Who wont'st in secret folitude to dwell,
On coral beds beneath thy fapphire cell;
Whose virgin-pow'r can break the magic charm,
Whofe look the black enchanter's hand disarm; 6
Whom fwains in neighb'ring vales to fing delight,
Kind guardian of their flocks from blasting sprite;
Permit me, goddess, from thy filver lake,
With cooling draught my glowing thirst to flake!
So, when thou bath'ft, may no rude fatyr's eye,
From fome deep brake, thy naked beauties spy:
May no chill blast the ivied oak invade,
That o'er thy cavern waves his folemn shade.