green,

Fathers and Fiiends of human kind!

Pale Ifis lay; a willow's lowly shade They form'd the nations, or refin'd,

Spread its thin foliage o'er the liceping maid; With all all that mends the head and heart, Clos'd was her eye, and from her heaving breast Enlight’ning truth, adorning art.

In careless folds loose flow'd her zonelets veft ; Thus musing in the folemn shade,

While down her neck her vagrant treffes flow, At once the founding breeze was laid:

In all the awful negligence of woe; And nature, by the unknown law,

Her urn fustain'd her arm, that sculptur'd vase Shook deep with reverential zwe;

Where Vulcan's art had lavish 'd all his grace. Dumb filence' grew upon the hour;

Here, full with life, was heaven-taught Science A browner night involv'd the bow'r:

reen, When issuing from the inmost wood,

Known by the laurel wreath and musing micn; Appear’d fair Freedom's Genius good.

There cloud-crown'd Fame, here Peace sedate O Freedom! fov'reign boon of Heav's,

and bland, Great Charter with our being giv'n;

Swell'd the loud truinp, and wav'd the olive wand; For which the patriot and the lage

While folemn domes, arch'd thades, and vistas Have plann'd, have bled, iliro' ev'ry age ! High privilege of human race,

At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene. Beyond a mortal monarch's grace :

On this the goddess cast an anxious look,
Who could not give, who cannot claim, Then dropp'd a tender tear, and thus the spoke :
What but from God immediate came!

Yes, I could once with pleas'd attention trace
The mimic charms of this prophetic vase ;
Then lift my

head, and with enraptur'd cyes

View on yon plain the real glories rise. $ 115. Odle 10 Evening. Dr. Jos. WARTON. Yes, llis! oft'hast thou rejoic'd to lead HAIL, meek-eyed Maiden, clad in sober grey, Thy liquid treasures o'er yon fav’rite incad; Whose soft approach the weary woodman Oft halt thou stopp'd thy pearly car to gaze, loves ;

While ev'ry Science nurs'd its growing bays; As homeward bent to kiss his prattling babes While ev'ry Youth, with fame's strong impulse Jocund he whistles through the twilight groves. Press'd to the goal, and at the goal untir'd [lird, When Phæbus links behind the gilded hills,

Snatch'd cach celestial wreath, to bind his brow, You lightly o'er the misty meadows walk;

The Mufes, Graces, Virtues could bestow. The drooping daisies bathe in dulcet dews,

E'on now fond Fancy leads th’ ideal train, And nurse the nodding violet's tender italk.

And ranks her troops on Memory's ample plain ;

See! the firm leaders of iny patriot line,
The panting Dryads, that in day's fierce heat
To ininott bow'rs and cooling caverns ran,

See! Sidney, Raleigh, Hampden, Somers shine. Return to trip in wanton ev’ning dance;

See Hough, fuperior to a tyrant's doom,

Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome : Old Sylvan too returns, and laughing Pan.

Each foul whoin truth could hre, or virtúe move, To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair, Each breast strong panting with its country's love, Light skims the fivallow o'er the wat’ry scene; All that to Albion gave their heart or head, And from the sheep-cot, and fresh-furrow'd field, That wisely countcild, or that bravely bled, Stout ploughmen meet to wrestle on the green. All, all 2; pear; on me they grateful smile, The swain, that artless sings on yonder rock,

The well-carn'd prize of cvery virtuous toil His fupping sheep and length’ning lhadow spics, To me with filial reverence they bring, Pleas’d with the cool, the calm refreshing hour, And hang fresh trophies o'er my honour'd spring. And with hoarse humming of unnumber d fies. Ah! I remember well yon becchen spray, Now ev'ry Paffion sleeps : desponding Love,

There Addison first tun'd his polith'd lay;

'Twas there great Cato's form first met his eye, And pining Envy, ever-reflets Pride; And holy Calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul,

In all the pomp of frec-born majesty; [awe, Anger and mad Ainbition's storms sublide.

“My fon,” he cried, “ observe this mien with

“ In folemn lines the strong resemblance draw; modeft Evening! oft let me appear

“ The piercing notes thall strike each British e.r; A wandering votary in thy peolive train;

" Each British eye shall drop the patriot tear! Lift'ning to cvery wildly.warbling note That fills with farewel lect thy darkening plain. Each youth thall Gurn at lavery's abje&t reign;

“ And, rous d to glory by the nervous train,

“ Shall guard with Caro's zeal Britannia's laws, $ 116. Ifis. An Elezi. By Mr. Mason " And lpeak, and aet, and blecd, in freedom's of Cambridge.

"cause." FAR from her hallow'd grot, where mildly The Hero fpoke; the bard assenting buwd; bright

The lay to Liberty and Cato fow'd; The pointed crystals shot their trembling light, While Echo, as the ror'd the vale along, From dripping moss where sparkling dew-drops Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman fong. fell,

But, ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground, Where coral glow'd, where twin'd the wreathed | How mute attention check'd each rising found,

Scarce

(hell,

:

Scarce sole a breeze to wave the Içafy spray, Forget that e'er my rapt attention bung
Scarce trill'd sweet Philomel her softest lay, Or on the Saye's or the Poet's tongue;
When Locke walk'd musing forth! e'en now 1 Calin and refign'd my humbler los embrace,
Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow; (view And, pleas'd, prefer oblivion to disgrace.
View Candour smile upon his modeft cheek,
And from his eye all Judgincnt's radiunce break.
'Twas here the fage his manly zcal expressid, 17. Epifiolary Verses 19 George: Colmar, Ek
Here stripp'd vam Falsehood of her gaudy vest; quritten in tbe leur 1756. By Mi. RoBet
Here Truth's collceted bcams lirit fill'd his mind, LLOYD.
Ere long to burst in blessings on mankind;
Ere long to thew to reason's purged eye, You know, dear George, I'm none of those
That “ Nature's first best gift was Liberty."

That condescend to write in prose :
Proud of this wondrous fon, fublime I stood

Inspii'd with pathos and sublime, (While louder furges (well'd iny rapid flood);

I always foar-in doggrel rhyme; Then, vain as Niobe, exulting cried,

And scarce can ask you how you do,
Iliffus! roll thy fam'd Athenian tide;

Without a jingling line or two.
Tho' Plato's fteps oft mark'd thy neighb'ring Besides, I always took delight in
Tho' fair Lycæum lent its awful thade, Islade, "V hat bears the name of ealy writing i
Tho' ev'ry Academic green impress'd

Perhaps the reason makes it plcale
Its image full on thy reflecting breast,

Is, that I find 'tis writ with caie. Yet my pure stream fhall boast as proud a name, which public taste can ne'er connive at,

I vent a no:ion here in private, And Britain's las flow with Atric fame. Alas! how chang'd! where now that Attic Which thinks no wit or judgment greater boalt?

Than Addion and his Spectator; See ! Gothic Licence rage o'cr all my coast;

Whofays (it is no matter where, Sce! Hydra Faction spread its inpious reign,

But that he says it I can livear)
Poison each brcaft, and madden ev'ry brain :

With easy veric most bards are smitten,
Hence frontless crowds that, not content to fright Because they think it 's ealy written ;
The bluthing Cynthia from her throne of night, Whercas, the easier it appears,
Blast the fair face of day; and, madly bold,

The greater marks of care it wears ;
To Freedom's foes infernal orgies hold;

Of which to give an explanation, To Freedom's foes, ah! luc the goblet crown'd,

Take this by way of illustration : Hear plaufive shouts to Freedom's foes resound;

Thc fai'd Mar. Prior, it is said, The horrid nores my refluent waters daunt,

Oft bit his nails, and scratch'd his head, The Echoes groan, the Dryads quit their haunt; And chang'd a thought a hundred times, Learning, that once to all diffus'd her beam,

Because he did not like the rhymes : Now sheds, by stealth, a partial private gleam

To make my meaning clear, and please ye, In some ionc cloister's mclancholy shade,

In short, he labour'd to write easy. Where a firma few fupport her fickly head,

And yet no Critic e'er defines Despis'd, insulted by the barb'rous train, His poems into labour'd lines. Who fcour like Thracia's moon-struck rout the I have a simile will hit him ; plain,

His verse, like clothes, was made to fit him; Sworn foes like then to all the Muse approves,

Which (as no faylor e'er devicd) All Phæbus farours, or Minerva loves.

The better fit the more they 're tried. Are those the fons my fuft'ring breast must rear,

Though I have mention & Prior's name, Grac'd with my name, and nurturd by my care? Think not I aim at Prior's fame. Mut these go forth from my maternal hand

'Tis the result of admiration To deal their insults thro' a peaceful land;

To spend ittelf in imitation ;
And boast, while Freedom bleeds, and Virtue If imitation may be faid,

Which is in me by nature bred,
groans,
That “ llis taught Rebellion to her Sons” And you have better proofs than these,
Forbid it, Heaven! and let my riting waves

That I'm idolater of Eale.
Indignant livell, and whelm ile recreant llaves !

Who but a madman would engage In England's cause their patriut floods employ,

A Poet in the present age? As Xanthus delug'din the cause of Troy.

Write what we will, our works bespeak as Is this denied; then point fomic secret way

Imitatores, feruum Pecuse Where far, far hence these guiltless it reais may Tale, Elegy, or lofty Ode, stray;

We travel in the beaten road.
Some unknown channellend, where Nature spreads The proverb ftill sticks closely by us,
Inglorious vales, and unfrequented meads: Nil dictum, quod non diétum prias.
There, where a hind scarce tunes his rustic strain, The only comfort that I know
Where scarce a pilgrim treads the pathlefs plain, Is, that 'twas said an age ago,
Content I'll flow; forget that e'er iny tide

Ere Milton foar'd in thought fublime,
Saw yon majestic Structurcs crown its side; Ere Pope refin'd the chink of rhyme,

a

:

a

a

Ere Colman wrote in style so

pure,

O may his name these verses fave, Or the great Two the Connoilleur;

Be these inscrib'd upon his grave ! Ere I burlesqu'd the rural cit,

“ Kouw, Reader, that on Thursday died, Proud to hedge in my scraps of wit;

“ The Connoisseur, a Suicide! And, happy in the close connection,

“ Yet think not that his soul is fed, T’acquire some name from their reflection : " Nor rank him 'mongst the vulgar dead. So (the fimilitude is trite)

" Howe'er defunct you set him down,
The moon still shines with borrow'd light; " He's only going out of Town.”
And, like the race of modern beaux,
Ticks with the sun for her lac'd clothes.

Methinks there is no better time
To Thew the use I make of rhyme,

§ 118. Ode 10 Aribur Onfloru, Esq. f Than now, when I, who from beginning Was always fond of couplet-finning;

THIS goo:lly frame what virtue fo approves, Presuming on good-naiure's score,

And teftifies the pure ethereal spirit, Thus lay my bantling at your door.

As mild Benevolence ? The fiift advantage which I see,

She with her sister Mercy still awaits Is, that I ramble loole and free:

Beside th' eternal throne of Jove, The bard indeed full oft complains

And measures forth with unwithdrawing hand That rhymes are fetters, links, and chains;

The biellings of the various year, And, when he wants to leap the fence;

Sunshine or show'r, and chides the madding Still keeps him prisoner to the sense.

tempeft. Howe'er in common-place he rage,

With her the heaven-bred nymph, mcek Charity, Thyme 's like your fetters on the stage,

Shall fashion Onslow forth in fairest portrait; Which when the player once hath wore,

And with recording care It makes him only firut the more,

Weave the fresh wreath that flow’ring virtue While, raving in pathetic strains,

claims, He shakes his legs to clank his chains.

But, oh, what muse shall join the band ? From rhyine, as from a handsome face,

He long has sojourn d in the sacred haunts, Nonsense acquires a kind of grace;

And knows each whip’ring grot and I therefore give it all its scope,

glade That sense may unperceiv'd elope.

Trod by Apollo, and the light-foot Graces. So M-rs of bafest tricks

How then shall awkward gratitude, (I love a Aing at politics)

And the presumption of untutor d duty, Amuse the nation, court, and iing,

Attune my numbers, all too rude. With breaking F-kes, and hanging Byng;

Little he recks the mecd of such a song; And make each puny roguc a prey,

Yet will I ftretch alcof, While they, the greater, link away.

And when I tell of Courtesy, This simile perhaps would strike,

Of well-attemper'd Zeal, If match'd with something more alike;

Of awful Prudence soothing fell Contention, Then take it dress'd a second time

Where hall the lincaments agree In Prior's Ease, and my Sublimc.

But thiee, Onslow? You your wonted leave Say, did you never chance to meet

Indulge me, nor misdeem a soldier's bold em, A inob of people in the street,

prize, Ready to give the robb'd relief,

Who, in the diffonance of barb'rous war And all in haste to catch a thief;

Long train’d, revisits of the facred treasures While the fly rogue, who filch'd the prey,

Of antique memory ; Too close beset to run away,

Or where fage Pindar reins his fiery car, Stop thief! stop thief! exclaims aloud,

Through the vast vault of Heaven lecure, And so escapes among the crowd:

Or what the Auric mure that Homer fillid, So Ministers, &c.

Her other son, thy Milton taught, O England, how I mourn thy fate !

Or range the flow'ry fields of gentle Spenser. For sure thy losses now are great ;

And, ever as I go, allurements vain Two such what Briton can endure,

Cherish a focble fire, and feed iny idle Minorca, and the Connoilleur!

Fancy: oh could I once To-day“, or e'er the sun goes down,

Charm to their melody my thrilling reeds ! Will die the Crnfor, Mr. Town!

To Henries and to Edwards old, He dies, whoe'er takes pains to con him, Dread names! I'd meditate the faithful fong; With blushing honours thick upon him :

Or tell what time Britannia, * September 30th, 1756, when Mr. Town, author of the Connoisseur, a periodical Essay (since published in four volumes, printed for R. Baldwin, London), took leave of his readers, with an humourous account of himfcil.

+ This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the learned world, as a token of gratitude for favours conferred on his father during the last war, whole character he has therein assumed.

Whilom)

a

a

ال

brow;

Whilom the fairest daughter of old Occan, Tark! yon deep echo frikes the trembling ear! In loathly disarray, dull eyes,

See night's dun curtain wraps the darkcome preds? And faded clietk, wept o'er her abjeet sons : J'er hcaven's blue arch yon rolling worlds ap. Till Willia!, great deliverer,

pear, Led on the coircly train, gay Liberty, And roule to folemn thought th' aspiring fovl. Religion, matron ftuid,

O lead my fteps beneath the moon's dim rav,
With all her kindied goddesses;

Where Tadmor lands all delert and alone!
Juftice with steady brow,

While from her time-thuok luw'ss the birici
Trim Plenty, laureat Peace, and green-hair'd рrcy
Commerce,

Sounds thro' the night her long-resounding rocan. In flowing rest of thousand hues.

Or bear me far to yon dark dismal plain, Fain would I thadow out old Bourbon's pile

Where fe!l-eyed igers, all athirst for blond, Tott'ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ning, Howl to the desert; while the horrid train cumb'rous fall;

Roams o'er the wild where once great Baid Or trace our navy, where in tow'ring pride

stood; O'er the wide-swelling waste it rolls avengeful. As when collected clouds

That queen of nations, whose superior call Forth from the gloomy fouth, in deep array,

Rous'd the broad East, and bid her arms defima! Athwart the dark'ning landscape throng,

When warm'd to mith, let judgment maik her fail, Fraught with loud forms, and thunder's dread and deep reflection dath the lip of joy. ful peal,

Short is Ambition's gay deceitful dream; At which the murd'rer stands aghaft, Though wreaths of blooming laurel bind ter And wasting Rior ill diffembles terror.

How headlong Rhone and Ebro, erst distain's Calm thoughi di pels the visionary scheme, With Moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her And 1.mc's cold breath diffolves the withering branches!

bough. Soon ihali greet the morn,

Slow as fume miner saps th' aspiring tow'r, When Europe sav'd, Britain and George's name. When working fecret with deltructive ain, Shall found o'er Flandria's level field,

Unteen, unheard, thus moves the stealing hour, Familiar in domestic merriment;

But works the fall of empire, pomp, and naine. Or by tlac jolly mariner

Then let thy pencil mark the traits of man; Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube.

Full in the draught be keen-eyed Hope popThe juft memorial of fair deeds Still flourishes, and, like th' untainted foul,

tray'd :

Let futt'ring Cupids crowd the growing plan : Bluftoms in fretheft aue, above

Then give one touch, and dash it deep with ba's. The weary tle th, and envy's rankling wound. Such, after years mature,

Beneath the plume that flames with glascing In full account thall be thy meed..

rays Oh may your rising hope

Be Care's deep engines on the soul impress’d; Well principled in ev'ry virtue bloom ! Beneath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze

Til a frith-f;ringing flock implore Let Grief fit piving in the canker'd breaft. With infant hands a grandfire's pow'rful pray'r, Let Love's gay fons, a smiling train, appear, Or round your honour'd couch thuir pratiling With Beauty piered-yet heedless of the dan; sports pursue.

While, ciutely couch'd, palc fick ’ning Envy at:

Whets her fell sting, and points it at the hissl. § 119.

Ode to Melancholy. OGILVIE. Perch'd like a raven on some bl-sted vew, HA AIL, queen of thought sublime ! propitious Let Guilt revolve the thought-diftraéting fia;

Scar'd—while her eyes survey th'ethereal 5!42 Who o'er th’unbounded waste art joy'd ro raam, | Lift heaven's strong lightning burit the dark Led by the moon, when at the midnight hour

within. Her pale rays tiemble thro' the duiky groom.

Then paint impending o'er the maddening deep O bear me, goddels, to thy peaceful leat! That rock where bicart-struck Sappho, vault Wether to Hecia's cloud-wrap: brow convey'd, biare, Orlody'd where mountains screen thv deep retreat, Stood firm of soul- then from the dizze fecep Or wand'ring wild thro’ Chili's bundleis ihade. impetuous sprung, and dath'd the boiling wait Say, rove ty steps o'er Libya's naked waste ? Here wrape in studious thought let Fancy roles Or seek fome distant folitary shore?

Sull prompt to mark Suspicion's fecret inare ; Or, on the Andes' topmost mountain placid, To see where Angwin nips the bloom of Love, Dxcit iir, and hear the lulemn thunder roar > Or trait proud Grandeur to the domes of Caito Fixd on some hanging rock's projected brow, Sl.ould e'er Anbition's tow'ring hores jefaire, Vicaritehori low murmurs foin the diftant dome et judging Rution draw the veil afide ; ar trav the test whese pale ocjected Woe zu, nrd with envy at fuwe mighty name, l'ours her wong wail ironu tome lamented tomb ? Read o'er the monuinent that tcuis-Heet!.

pow'r,

tcar.

1. 2.

What are the ensigns of imperial fway, Or where the violet pale
What all that fortunc's lib'ral hand has broughı: Droops o'er the green-embroider'd stream ;
Teach they the voice to pour a liveeter lay : Or wliere voung Zephyr stirs the ruling sprays,
Or rouse the soul to more exalted thoughe? Lies all diffolv å in fairy dream.

O'cr
When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms un-

yon bleak defert's unfiequenred round

Seest thou where Nature treads the deep'ning known,

gloom, When meles the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier ; Not wealth, but pity, swells the burtting groan;

Sits on yon hoary row's with ivy crown'd, Not pow'r, but whitp ring Nature, prompts the Or wildly wails o'er thy lamented tomb:

Hear'lt thou the folemn music wind along?

Orthrills the warbling note in thy mčilifuous song?
Say, genile mourner, in yon mouldy vault,
Where the worm fattens on fome fceptred brow,
Beneath that roof with tculptur'd marble fraught. Oft while on earth 'twas thine to rove

Where'er the wild-eyed goddess lor'd to roam,
Why sleeps uomov'd the breathlefs duit below?

To trace serene the gloomy grove,
Sleeps it more sweetly than the fimple fivain,

Or haunt meck Quiet's simple doine;
Beneath Come mosfy turf that rests his head; Still hovering round the Nine appear,
Where the lone widow tells the night her pain, That pour the soul-zransporting sirain;
And eve with dewy tears embalms the dead ? Join'd to the Loves' gły train,
The lily, screen'd from ev'ry ruder gale, The loole-rob'd Graces crown'd with flow'rs,
Courts not the cultur'd f;pot where roses spring; The light-wing'd gales that lead the vernal year,
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale, And wake the ro y-Featur'd hours.
And scents the zephyr's balmy breathing wing. O'er alt bright Fancy's beamy racliance shone,
The busts of grandeur and the pomp of pow'r,

How flam'd thy bosom as her charms reveal!

Her fire-clad cye sublime, her starry zone,
Can these bid Sorrow's gu!hing tears sublide ?
Can these avail in that tremendous hour,

Her treffes loose that wanton'd on the gale ;
When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide ?

On thee the goddess fix'd her ardent look,

Then from her glowing lips these inelting accents Ah no! the mighty names are heard no more:

bioke: Pride's thought sublime, and Beauty's kindling

bivorn, Serve but :o (port one flying moment o'er,

“ To thee, my favourite son, belong'

“ The lays that steal the listening hour ; And (well with pompous verse th' elcutclieon'd tuinb.

“ To pour the rapture-darting fung,

“ To paint gay Hope's Elysian boiv'r. For me—may Passion ne'er my soul invade, “ From Nature's hand to snatch the clart, Nor be the whims of tow'ring Phrenly giv'n ; “ To cleave with pangs the bleeding heart; Let Wealth ne'er court me from the peaceful Or lightly sweep the trembling tiring, shade,

" And call the Loves with purple wing Where Contemplation wings the soul to Heaven! From the blue deep, where they dwell Oh guard me safe from Joy's enticing snare !

" With Naiads in the pearly cell, With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide,

Soft on the fea-born goddess gazet; The poilon'd breath of low-consuming Care,

- Or in the loote robe's floating maze; The noise of Folly, and the dreams of Priile. “ Diffolv'd in downy flumbers relt;

“ Or Hutter o'er her panting breast. But oft, when midnight's sadly folemn knell

• Or wild to melt the yielding foul, Sounds long and distant from the sky-topt tow'r,

" Let Sorrow, clad in fable Hole, Calm let me lit in Prosper's lonely cell,

• Slow to thy muling thoug!: appcat; Or walk with Milton turu'the dark.obfcure.

* Or pensive Piry pale; Thus, when the transient dream of life is fed, Or Love's desponding tale

[tear." May some fad friend recall the former years; - Call from the intender'd heart the sympathetic Then, stretch'd in silence o'er my dusty bed,

II. Pour the warm guth of sympathetic tears !

Say, whence the magic of thy mind? $ 120. Odle to tbc Genius of Sbakespeare. Why thrills thy mutic on the springs of thought?

OGILVIE. Why, at thy pencil's touch retin'd,
1.

Starts into life the glowing draught?
R
APT from the glance of mbrtal eye, On yonder fairy carpet laid,

Say, bursts thy Genius to the world of light? Where beauty pours eternal bloom,
Seeks it yon Itar-bespangled lky?

And zephyr breathes per'ume; Or ikims its fields with rapid night?

There nighily to the tranced eye Or, mid yon plains where Fancy (trays,

Profuse the radiant goddess flood display'd, Courts ii the balmy breathing gale ?

Sith all her lining oifspring wisho. * See Shakesjeare's Témpet.

+ Venus. LI 2

Sudde.

F

1.