Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch With his unhallow'd touch. So (poets sing) Grimalkin, to domestic vermin sworn An everlasting foe, with watchful eye Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap, Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice Sure ruin. So her disembowell'd web
Arachne, in a hall or kitchen, spreads
Obvious to vagrant flies: she secret stands Within her woven cell: the humming prey, Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils Inextricable, nor will aught avail Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue; The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone, And butterfly, proud of expanded wings Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares, Useless resistance make; with eager strides, She towering flies to her expected spoils; Then, with envenom'd jaws, the vital blood Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags.
So pass my days. But when nocturnal shades This world envelop, and th' inclement air Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood; Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light Of make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk Of loving friend, delights: distress'd, forlorn, Amidst the horrours of the tedious night, Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts My anxious mind: or sometimes mournful verse Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades,
Or desperate lady near a purling-stream, Or lover pendant on a willow-tree.
Meanwhile I labour with eternal drought, And restless wish, and rave; my parched throat Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose: But if a slumber haply does invade
My weary limbs, my fancy 's still awake, Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream, Tipples imaginary pots of ale,
In vain; awake I find the settled thirst Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr'd, Nor taste the fruits that the Sun's genial rays Mature, john-apple, nor the downy peach, Nor walnut in rough-furrow'd coat secure, Nor medlar, fruit delicious in decay; Afflictions great! yet greater still remain : My galligaskins, that have long withstood The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts, By time subdued (what will not time subdue!) An horrid chasm disclos'd with orifice Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves, Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts, Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, Long sail'd secure, or through th' Ægean deep, Or the Ionian, till cruising near
The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush
On Scylla, or Charybdis (dangerous rocks!)
She strikes rebounding; whence the shatter'd oak, So fierce a shock unable to withstand,
Admits the sea: in at the gaping side
The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage, Resistless, overwhelming; horrors seize
The mariners; Death in their eyes appears, [pray: They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they (Vain efforts!) still the battering waves rush in, Implacable, till, delug'd by the foam, The ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss.
A POEM, IN TWO BOOKS.
Honos erit huic quoque Pomo?
WHAT Soil the apple loves, what care is due To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits, Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse Adventurous I presume to sing; of verse Nor skill'd, nor studious: but my native soil Invites me, and the theme as yet unsung.
Ye Ariconian knights, and fairest dames,
To whom propitious Heaven these blessings grants, Attend my lays, nor hence disdain to learn, How Nature's gifts may be improv'd by art. And thou, O Mostyn, whose benevolence, And candour, oft experienc'd, me vouchsaf'd To knit in friendship, growing still with years, Accept this pledge of gratitude and love. May it a lasting monument remain
Of dear respect; that when this body frail Is moulder'd into dust, and I become As I had never been, late times may know I once was bless'd in such a matchless friend! Whoe'er expects his labouring trees should bend With fruitage, and a kindly harvest yield, Be this his first concern, to find a tract Impervious to the winds, begirt with hills That intercept the Hyperborean blasts Tempestuous, and cold Eurus' nipping force, Noxious to feeble buds: but to the west Let him free entrance grant, let Zephyrs bland Administer their tepid genial airs;
Nought fear he from the west, whose gentle warmth Discloses well the Earth's all-teeming womb, Invigorating tender seeds; whose breath
Nurtures the orange, and the citron groves, Hesperian fruits, and wafts their odours sweet Wide through the air, and distant shores perfumes. Nor only do the hills exclude the winds:
But when the blackening clouds in sprinkling showers
Distil, from the high summits down the rain. Runs trickling; with the fertile moisture cheer'd, The orchats smile; joyous the farmers see Their thriving plants, and bless the heavenly dew. Next let the planter, with discretion meet, The force and genius of each soil explore; To what adapted, what it shuns averse: Without this necessary care, in vain He hopes an apple-vintage, and invokes Pomona's aid in vain. The miry fields,
Rejoicing in rich mould, most ample fruit Of beauteous form produce; pleasing to sight, But to the tongue inelegant and fiat.
So Nature has decreed: so oft we see Men passing fair, in outward lineaments Elaborate; less, inwardly, exact.
Nor from the sable ground expect success, Nor from cretaceous, stubborn and jejune : The Must, of pallid hue, declares the soil Devoid of spirit; wretched he, that quaffs Such wheyish liquors; oft with colic pangs, With pungent colic pangs distress'd he'll roar, And toss, and turn, and curse th' unwholesome draught.
But, farmer, look where full-ear'd sheaves of rye Grow wavy on the tilth, that soil select
For apples: thence thy industry shall gain Ten-fold reward: thy garners, thence with store Surcharg'd, shall burst; thy press with purest juice Shall flow, which, in revolving years, may try Thy feeble feet, and bind thy faltering tongue. Such is the Kentchurch, such Dantzeyan ground, Such thine, O learned Brome, and Capel such, Willisian Burlton, much-lov'd Geers his Marsh, And Sutton-acres, drench'd with regal blood Of Ethelbert, when to th' unhallow'd feast Of Mercian Offa he invited came,
To treat of spousals: long connubial joys He promis'd to himseif, allur'd by fair Elfrida's beauty: but, deluded, dy'd
In height of hopes oh! hardest fate, to fall By show of friendship, and pretended love!
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