While the bright dames, to whom they humbly fu'd, Still show the charms that their proud hearts fubdu’d.
Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And fhow th' immortal labours in my verfe, Where from the mingled strength 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 pleasing airs my ravisht foul confound
With circling notes and labyrinths of found;
Here domes and temples rise in distant views,
And opening palaces invite my Mufe.
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?
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 fhade repines:
Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst,
And in the loaden vineyard dies for thirst.
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't beauty to the fun, and pleasure to the day.
Thee, goddefs, thee, Britannia's ifle adores; How has fhe oft exhausted 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 foil, 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, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile.
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,
Bless the wife conduct of her pious arms: 150
Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease,
And all the northern world lies hush'd in peace.
Th' ambitious Gaul beholds with fecret dread Her thunder aim'd at his aspiring head,
And fain her godlike fons would difunite
By foreign gold or by domeftic fpite:
But ftrives 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 strain.
But I've already troubled you too long, Nor dare attempt a more advent'rous fong. 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, shou'd praise.
TO HIS PERJUR'D MISTRESS.
Nox erat, & cælo fulgebat luna fereno, &c.
Ir
was one evening, when the rifing moon
Amidst her train of stars diftinctly 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,
Did, to abuse the gods and me prepare.
"Twas then you fwore, remember, faithless 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, 11
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.
If e'er my breaft a guilty flame receives,
Or covets joys, but what thy presence 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 listning 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 liften to that Syren's voice,
Love ev'n thy crimes, and fly to guilty joys! 30 Thy fatal eyes my best refolves betray,
My fury melts in soft 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 fhame, confirm'd a flave,
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;
But fhow, with manly rage, my foul's above
The cold returns of thy exhaufted love.
Then thou shalt juftly mourn at my disdain,
Find all thy arts, and all thy charms in vain :
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