I HZ) Ji ^\\EUN!VER% ^tlOS-ANCHZj> o > 3V # %J3A!Nfl-3\W v^lOUVCElfj> T/, 'mivm-itf* ^o-m r l \ j^UIBRARY^ aiv# I Ov .:: ^WE-W g i J; * ' V VI V. ;&^s COLLECTION OF POEMS, MOSTLY ORIGINAL, BY SEVERAL HANDS. Sl'A Vv S A. C f ) K GI DUBLIN: PRINTED FOR THE EDITOR, BY GRAISBERRY & CO. MDCCCI. PR ' 885/ TO THE GENTLEMEN DUBLIN LIBRARY SOCIETY; AS A TOKEN OF RESPECT TO THEM, AND A MARK OF REGARD FOK THEIR MOST USEFUL INSTITUTION, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, BY THE EDITOR. ADVERTISEMENT, TO THE READER. The favourable reception, with which my two former volumes, of Mifcellaneous Poems, were honoured by the public, induced me to continue my pleafing labours , I have been favoured by a number of friends with fuch an abundance of original matter, that I found fome difficulty in felecting the pieces comprifed in the volume which I now offer to the world. It is but juftice to fay that the fele&ion is all my own, and if I have been miflaken, or partial, in the preference be- llowed by me on the Poems which appear, over n ADVERTISEMENT. many which I have poftponed, I fhall hope for pardon from my readers, and the ingenious writers, whofe works are, as yet, withheld from the light ; and I beg they will afcribe my choice, in great meafure, to my defire of giving this volume, as great a variety as poflible, in the flyle, manner, and character, of the pieces which it contains ; I atter myfelf, this is a merit which it will be found to poffefs, in no common degree. If, in this bufy and untunable age, when there are found fo few readers of poetry; and the mufes, if not filent, are unheard, and unregarded, amidft the din of arms ; this volume mould be fortunate enough 10 atuacl. ^ b 2 SUBSCRIBERS. James Connor, Efq.Tralee, Co. Kerry. John Connor, Efq. Captain Luttrel Cunningham. Captain Thomas Cunningham. Richard Curran, Efq. Eccles Cuthbert, Efq. William Cuthbert, Efq. 2 Copies. D. Dublin Library Society. Mr. Michael Daly Mrs. Darling. *Rev. William Davenport, A. M. F. T. C. D. Mr. James Dawfon. *Jofeph D'Olier, Efq. Ifaac D'Joncourt Efq. Mrs. Dowdall, -n George Dowdall, Efq. I James Dowdall, Efq. >Bailymahon. William Dowdall, Efq. J Rev, Dionyfius Dowling, D. D. Elm-Field. Mrs. Drennan. Patrick Duffy, Efq. Ball's Bridge, 3 Copies'. Mr. Edmund Duigan. John Dumoulin, Efq. Mrs. Dumoulin. John Duncan, Efq. *John Dunn, Efq. SUBSCRIBERS. E. *Ifaac Ambrofe Eccles, Efq. Cronerow, Co. Wickiow. James Edwards, Efq. , Nicholas Elcock, M. D. *George Evans, Efq. F. Lord Vifcount Forbes. Hon, Angouleme Moira Forbes. Hon. Francis Reginald Forbes. Hon. Haflings Brudenell Forbes. Sir John Freke, Bart. M. P. John Fenton, Efq. Strabane. *Maurice Fitz-Gerald, Efq. Mrs. Foot, Buckingham-Street, Adelphi, London. Mifs Charlotte Eliza Foot, Ridge, Herts, England. Allen Fofter, Efq. Bernard Fowkes, Efq. Mr. Fowler. Mrs. French. Mifs Elizabeth Frewen, Limerick. Rich. OfFarrel Frend, Efq. Capt. of 41ft Regt. of Foot, * Charles Frazer Frizell, Efq. M. R, I. A. Right Hon. Earl of Granard. Covmtefs of Granard. SUBSCRIBERS. *James Gandon, Efq. M. R. I. A. Henry Gaven, Efq/ William Gaven, Efq. Mrs. Gaven. Mifs Gaven. Captain Giffard, *Harding Giffard, Efq. Mrs. Giffard. Mifs Giffard. John Gill, Efq. Landgate, Kent. Rev. Thomas Goff. Lieutenant Thomas Goodwin, 2 Copies. Richard Goram, 6th Dragoon Guards. Molefworth Green, Efq. Thomas Green, Efq. Bilker-Square, London. Thomas Eaves Green, Efq. Waterhoufe Sheppey Green, Efq. Mrs. Greenfield, Hilliborough. *Rev. Hofea Guinnefs, L. L. D. *Richard Guinnefs, Efq. *Samuel Guinnefs, Efq. H- Mifs Hall. Mifs Ifabella Hamilton, Hamwood. Robert Handcock, Efq. *James Hartley, Efq. V. P. D. L. S. *John Hartley, Efq. Amory Hawkefworth, Efq. SUBSCRIBERS. *William Henn, Efq. Matter in Chancery. Mifs Henry. Mifs Anne Henry. *Robert Conway Hickfon, Efq. Kerry. Mrs. Marcella Higginfon, Limerick. Trevor Hill, Efq. Meade Hobfon, Efq. John Hone, Efq. *Rev. James Horner. Edward Houghton, Efq. Robert Howes, Efq. Mr. Robert Hudfon. John Latouche Hume, Efq. Wm. H. Hume, Efq. M.P. Hume Wood, Co.Wicklow. *Henry Humfrey, Efq. Mrs. Hyde. J. George Jackfon, Efq. St. George's, Jamaica. Gregory Jackfon, Efq. Kedgeree, Bengal. William Collins Jackfon, Efq. St. James's-Square, Bath- *Edmund Johnfton, Efq. Samuel Jones, Efq. K. Right Rev. Lord Bifhop of Killala. Rev. John Kearney,- D. I>. Provoft of T. C- D. Keane, Efq. SUBSCRIBERS. William Kellock, Efq. Cork. David C. Kenny, Efq. Capt. in the Honourable Com- pany's Madras Infantry. Mrs. Kenny, South Mims, Middlefex. J. Kidman, Efq. Raquet Court, Fleet-Street, London. Anthony King, Efq. North Glofter Militia. George King, Efq. John King, Efq. Mrs. King. Alexander Kirkpatrick, Efq. Rev. Dean Kirwan. Rich. Kirwan, Efq. P. D. L. S. F. R. S. P. R. I. A. &c. Mr. Jonathan Knaggs. L. Sir Thomas Lighton, Bart. Merville. *Jofeph Labat, Efq. Mifs La Farelle. Capt. John Lamb'e, of the Melville Caftle Eafl Indiaman. Benjamin Lane, Efq. Camberwell, Surry. George Latouche, Efq. *Peter Latouche, Efq. Jun. * James Lecky, Efq. Thomas Lee, Efq. Kentifh Town, Middlefex. Townfend Lees, Efq. General Port Office. *Jofeph Lefanu, Efq. John Lefter, Efq. Poole, Dorfet, England. Mifs Anne Litton. SUBSCRIBERS. Mifs Eliza Litton. Owen Lloyd, Efq. Rockville, Co. Rofcommon. Philip Long, Efq. 3 Copies. Mr. Robert Lovely . Rev. C. Lufcombe, Bread-Street, Cheapfide, London-. Martin French Lynch, Efq. M. Countefs of Moira, Haflings, &c. &c. Right Hon. Earl of Mt. Cafhell. Countefs of Mt. Cafhell. Major General Morriffon, 3 Copies. Lady Caroline Morriflbn. *Sir Richard Mufgrave, Bart. Mr. William Magee, Belfaft. Mifs S M . D'Arcy Mahon, Efq. Gilbert Mahon, Efq. Rev. Henry Major, Bally fhannon. *Mr. Michael Majey. *H. G. Manders, Efq. *Ralph Marfhall, Efq. High Sheriff of the Co, Kerry. Mrs. Marfhall, Kerry. Richard Martin, Efq. Col, Cromwell Maffey, of the Hon. Company's Ma- dras Eftablifhment. Thomas Maften, Efq. Homerton, Middlefex. Peter Benfon Maxwell, A. B. T. CD. SUBSCRIBERS. 5 *William Maxwell, Efq. William Maxwell, Efq. Cork. Mifs MCance. Michael M Of fcience the emporium, now adorn'd "With flowing ringlets, fable, crifp'd, and curl'd, He ftraight invefts with cap rectangular Of fable woof ; then o'er his fhoulders throws The ample folds of garment, black as down Of raven plumage, or that earth which flept From firft of time the ftygian wave beneath ; Enrob'd he ifTues forth, with pride elate : His high ambitious wifh now realiz'd, He ftrides majeftic ; or to fenate houfe, Or down the pathway towards vice regal halls, Or o'er the bridge from haplefs EfTex named, ( 3 ) Or Sackville's crowded walk, there to diiplay His garment's flowing folds the fable robe One time falls from his round broad moulders down In folds exact. Now negligent depends Ev'n from his elbows bellying with the gale, Or drags a length of train anon fuccincl: He brings it to his moulders, and collects Its ample breadth in his puhTant grafp ; Then draws' it intertwin'd within his arm. Lo ! as he flrides magnific, inly pleafed, He ever and anon beholds afkance The envied robe reviews its varied folds ; Then of importance confcious, looks and ftruts, And looks and ftruts, and looks and ftruts again. Such have I feen the bird of ebon plume, By mortals Jackdaw called, when buflun'd high With greaves of tyrian hue, ftriding along, Full oft he flops to view each gaudy heel ; Ev'n fo Aphronius frequent looked and ftrode Eblana's crouded ways. But, hark ! the bell Aphronius fummons to collegiate halls, To feaft on cates muttonian or of ox With culinary art embrown'd as vulture From food long held, or as the bird of Jove, The royal eaglet, from fome frowning clifF Precipitates his flight, and pounces down A 2 ( 4 ) Relentlefs on his prey thus fierce and fell, With fpeed as rapid, appetite as keen, Aphronius rufhes to the feftive board : Where pewter bright as Berenice's hair, Or Pallas's blue eye, upholds the fpoils Of flaughtered fheep, by vulgar tongue yclep'd Shoulders and legs of mutton lo, how foon Aphronius' brandifhed blade incifion deep Makes in the reeking viand flice o'er flice, Hot, fmoaking, pond'rous, overload his plate ; His plate, of fnowy timber form'd, doth groan With the incumbent fpoils the youth now thrice Doth load his plate thrice make it light as air : The fourth replenifhed heap, his appetite, And jaded jaws refufe he refpite fought, And ftimulatives to provoke defire ; Then calls the button'd (laves, who wait behind ; Direfts that to the culinary cells, Beneath the hall, they bear it there to broil With particles faline embrued, and fpice Of indian product Scarce the purpled flaves Return'd the viand fpiced from cells beneath, When odorif'rous fleam arrefls the fenfe Of fell Aphronius' probofcis : defire And renovated appetite return : His fleely blade he feizes, and amain ( 5 ) The fourth full platter's fpicy weight confumes ; Ne'er, fince the nuptial feaft of Pirithoiis, When mountain Centaurs with the Lapithse Vied emulous of the banquet, was there known Such mortal havoc, as Aphronius' jaws All potent made in Alma's foodful halls. Not more infatiate was the jaw that hurl'd Phililtine thoufands down the fiery gulph, Where Satan reigns, as holy writ records. But lo ! th' attending Cerberus, with eye Malign and glaring, marks the feats immenfe O'er flaughter'd flieep achieved, and mutt' ring curfes, And meditates revenge , and wonders what Of human form Aphronius bears but then Reflection comes Aphronius is a Gibb : This folves the doubt, and wonder is no more : They praife the wight of academial fame, Hight * Minifter, who oft at portal fire Defined the wond'rous being. Lo, now in fubterranean cells, where Sol Ne'er fent his vital beam nor fuel'd hearth The frigorific walls e'er cheer'd where Night And Night's compeer, grim Darknefs, ancient fagey Hold undifputed fway fave, when the gleams Of farthing tapers only give to view Darknefs, and render vifible the gloom j * Mr. Minifter a badgetrtan of college memory. ( 6 ) Lo here the youth and his bold peers defcend, Vociferant, and loud, to celebrate Collegiate orgies, and to quaff potations ; Not Gallia's vintage, not Burgundia's boaft, Not fam'd Falernian, theme of Roman fong, Nor the imperial ncttar of Hungaria, Tockay, the beverage of demi gods, But native brown October, foaming high In vafe of filver, donative, embofTed, High flavour'd with the vegetable gold Of proud Hefperia, fragrant as the gale That wafts arabian fleets to indian ifles ; Lo ! in this fphere of jovial revelry Aphronius moves, fublime and eminent, The loudefl of the loud the vaulted roof Reverberating thunders nought is heard Diflincl from twenty tongues vociferous, Reeling from theme to theme, the fubjecT: runs ; From Murray's logic to demoliih'd lamps, From Lock on intellect to Crown-Ally fports, From who beft anfwer'd at the late examen, To the beft appetite at commons' hall ; But frequent interruptions mar thefe themes ; Aphronius, fportive, ever and anon, Hurls glomerated globes of Ceres forth ; Some iffue harmlefs. But, if miilive ball ( 7 ) Extinguish taper, or hit other mark, Then uproar rifes boundlefs thro' the cells : As when of old the bacchanalian rout On thracian hills their midnight orgies kept, What time, with frantic howl, on Rhodope, They Orpheus flew, Calliope's fweet fon : Or wou'd'ft Aphronius view, and his compeers, In other fcene, of more import ; repair To the balcony of the fenate houfe j Mark well the group of gibbs with gaping mouth Of horrid aperture, let wide to drink The oily ftream of eloquence, wljofe " Soft Meanders lubricate the courfe they take ;" Aphronius and his peers befotted flare : As much emoved are they, when Baalam's als Brays in broad accent, as when Gracchus holds Attention chain'd, and opes the grand debate ; When, with fuch force in ardent phrafe, he hurls The potent thunder of conviclive truth, That foul Corruption's torpid nerves are fliook Ev'n to convulfion round the venal bench. Gibbs equally admire the drawling phrafe Of vapid Barrus, as when Curio's wit Explodes in brilliant flames. When Borachio, Like mongrel fnarling at the great and wife. As wide the Gibb extends admiring jaws, ( 8 ) As when Pomponius, clear, fuccinct, and flrong, Gives energy to reafon. But what now ? Why fobs the Gibb ? Aphronius, wherefore weep ? Is't fympathy ? O yes behold a knight, Now that the days of chivalry are pafl, Pathetic weeps the fate, and fall, of kings, Gives all he can in thefe barbaric times To royal woe bedews with tears the ftar That glitters on his breaft, the regal toy Feels fympathetic forrow, and grows dim. But, wayward mufe, tire not thy auditors : Of College Gibb enough , to fketch the portrait Of features falfe and prominent thy taflc, Thy province to correct, not irritate, To cure, but not inflame, the morbid part. ( 9 ) ODE TO FROST. B Y H. Preceded by the pinching ftorm That through fiberiarr forefts play'd, "With withering look and wizard form, The pallid pow'r whofe magic force Arrefts the wand'rinfj river's courfe, Stands on our fhore with hoftile flag difplay'd. At his approach each flow'ret dies, That prematurely dar'd to rife And court the wintry fun's deceitful rays : Each bud that treach'rous moiilure drew Untimely into public view, Night fuddenly decays. ( io ) No mufic in the Ikies we hear, Altho' ferene, and oft, as fummer's clear : The woods and fields are dumb ; Save where the fhuddering peafant ftands, And hoarfely coughs, or claps his tingling hands, Left cold his nerves benumb. Save where along the blafled wold, By hunger pinch'd, without a fold, The bleating fheep and lowing heifer roam; While, fhrinking from the freezing gale, Beneath the lamp of night fo pale, They call the heedlefs hind, in vain, to take them home. Save where the feather'd flock from ftream or lake, In queft of food their noify movements make j Or where, from her dark citadel, the owl Sallies abroad, with hideous fcream, Along the leaflefs made for prey to prowl, Marring the fleeping linnet's tuneful dream.. ( a ) But never fince thy hoary banner, Frost ! Wav'd glittering o'er Hibernia's hills and plains, Didft thou approach her fea-encircled coaft, More dreaded by her poor, laborious fwains, Groaning beneath Dearth's gripe, pining with Hunger's pains ! Ah ! while thy rigours, pow'r fevere ! Obedient thus to Nature's law, In bonds of double hardship bind the year, May Pity's gentle fun arife and thaw The ice in ev'ry cold, indiff'rent breaft, Till warm'd with charitable zeal, Av'rice itfelf an inclination feel To fave the poor, and fuccour the diftrefU ( 12 ) THE TEARS OF APRIL. BY THE SAME. April, thy bow'r, alas ! remains Still unadorn'd with bud, or bloom ; In lengthen'd rigour Winter reigns And Nature mourns her haplefs doom ! Beneath his hut, the fhiv'ring hind Beholds the hoftile feafon's fway, And liftens to the bellowing wind With mute attention, and difmay. The bee within her waxen cell, As her fcant ftock of honey fails, Dreads the approach of Famine fell, And tardy Spring's delay bewails ( 13 ) No zephyr dares its filken wing Expand beneath the freezing fky ; No tuneful Lark attempts to fing, While tempefts howl, and fnow-d rifts fly. No fw allow, as in milder years, Dares yet our coaft a vifit pay ; No cuckoo's note the valley cheers ; The drooping {hade, no linnet's lay. No genial warmth yet glads the grove, And decks the lawn with vernal hues ; The birth of beauty, mufic, love, Cold's unpropitious pow'r fubdues. April, thy bow'r, alas ! remains Still unadorn'd with bud, or bloom ; In lengthen'd rigour "Winter reigns And Nature mourns her haplefs doom! ( M ) INVOCATION TO SPRING. BY THE SAME. Come balmy fpirit of the Spring f And breathe upon our languid plains ; And fhed from thy falubrious wing Nutritious dews, and kindly rainsi Unbind the bud, the fhoot extend, With verdant beauty clothe the tree, The garden's tender train befriend, And fill the grove with choral glee. Too long has Winter's lingering fway Reprefs'd thy influence, gentle power ! For now we fee returning May But feek in vain to find her flower. ( ;*i > ODE TO JUNE. BY THE SAME. While Summer weaves her flow'ry wreath ; While fweeteft gales of fragrance breathe ; While beauty charms the ravifh'd eyes With fineft forms, and richeft dyes ; My mufe attunes her ruftic lay To the bright heir of blooming May. O June! were mine the potent fong, That erft, elyfian bow'rs among, Prevailed o'er ftubborn Fate's decree, And fet the grecian * lady free ; I'd try to charm thy princely ear Prolong thy empire o'er the year ; While Time, in filken flumbers bound, Shou'd ceafe to run his wonted round, * Earydice. ( ** ) And wonder all the nations fill, As when of old the fun flood ftill. Where Scandinavia's mountains rife With fnow-capt fumraits to the fkies, And Hecla's doom'd with endlefs rage, The burning war with Froft to wage j At thy approach, botanic queen ! The vegetable tribes are feen To flart from their long, polar trance With fudden fhoot their items advance Unfold the leaf the flower expand, And deck with fmiles the dreary land. Such was the feafon, when the # sage, The pride and wonder of his age, From Upfal's academic fhade Through Lapland's lonely regions ftray'd, Exploring Nature's northern train, With perfevering toil and pain, Till, mafter of her myflic lore, He claflified the blooming ftore, And gave mankind a work of art, The noblefl genius could impart, * Linnaeus. ( 17 ) Such is the feafon f Darwin loves, "When, leaving Derwent's claffic groves, He culls from Flora's fair domain The charming fubje&s of his ftrain. Delighted fylphs on balanced wings, And fallen gnomes in filent rings, Meek naids, fprightly nymphs of fire, All Fancy's light, aerial quire Around th' enchanting lyrift throng, To hear the fcientific fong That vegetation's myftic pow'rs, The loves and joys of plants and flow'rs, Defcribes unfolding thus to view A fcene delightful, curious, new A fcene that muft the athieft awe, And from him this confeffion draw ; A BEING INFINITE, SUPREME, Alone, could form the wond'rous fcheme Still o'er its movements muft prefide ! * Chance cannot fuch a fyftem guide !" f Author of the celebrated Poem on the Economy of Vegetation and Loves of the Plants. ( 8 ) ELEGY, WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF FOUR YOUNG LADIES, ON A FAVOURITE LAP-DOG, NAMED *SCHRADEEN. BY NOUMANNUS. Ye brother puppies, all attend, Who flutter thro* this fea-bound nation, From weightier trifles, deign to bend, And join my rueful lamentation. Small was my mother, fmaller yet, Was I myfelf, when I was born ; I might have liv'd an happy pet, And been carefs'd, from morn to morn. * A dwarfifli thing. ItUB. ( 19 ) I might have liv'd in Mary's fmiles, And then have liv'd in blifs indeed ; I might have ufed a thoufand wiles, As with her lovely hands I play'd. I might have toy'd in Sally's arms, Such fortune feldom mortal blefTes ; I might have view'd her countlefs charms, And wanton'd with her raven trefles. I might have lain on Ellen's breaft, And gaz'd upon her neck with wonder ; Her fnowy bofom gently preft, And felt the panting captive under. I might have liv'd with Betfy too, And flept fecufe in her good nature j Then tell me brothers, which of you, Could hope to be fo bleft a creature ? But envious Fate too plainly faw, The good defign'd for poor Schradeen j Her bailiff, death, with harpy claw, Has dragg'd me to her iron reign. B 2 ( 20 ) But why fliould mortals thus complain, "Why fhould we thus misfortune harp at ? I might have felt the lafh of * Payne, For piddling on the Wilton carpet. Or Tabby might have fcratch'd my face, Or f Burton dragged me through the mire ; Or worfe, I might be in difgrace, Or fcorch my whifkers at the fire. Content, to Fate I then refign, The little fhare I had of breath, Nor longer at the change repine, From Ellen's arms, to thofe of Death. Then all my miftrefTes adieu, My only wifh is this, and know it ; May you have wealth, and hufbands too, And goofeberries to give the poet. * The Servant. f A Footman. ( 21 ) THE SWEET-PEA, THE LAURUSTINUS, AND THE OAK A FABLE, IN IMITATION OF LANGHORNE. BY THE SAME. Rise lovely flower around me twine, And point thy tendrils to the fkies } " Thy weakly branches reft on mine, " Arife, my blufhing fair, arife. No longer trail the chilling ground, " But in fupported beauty fmile j Spread all thy fragrant perfume round, Nor thy fair bloffoms thus defile, " For fearlefs of the wintry breeze, My humble, hardy, branches fpread \ When winter flrips the prouder trees, He moves unheeded o'er cay head.. ( H ) H Come, then, and in this lonely fhade, " Let me thy beauteous buds fuftain ; " Accept my fhelter, lovely maid, " Againft the wind and driving rain." Thus, to the roving Sweet-Pea's bloom, The humble Laurustinus fpoke ; Where, in the dark fequefter'd gloom, He grew beneath a lofty Oak. The Sweet-Pea blufh'd a deeper red, 'Twas like Eliza's blufh of fcorn ; And was my beauty form'd," fhe faid, * Thy homely branches to adorn ? " What, though in each fair bloffom dwells, " The lily blended with the rofe ; w Which fcarce Eliza's cheek excels, " When fhe with love and raprtire glows. Yet, think not in thy homely fhade, Thofe blended beauties to fuftain j < { Nor, think I want thy vulgar aid, " Againfl the wind and driving rain. ( *3 ) No ! round the monarch of the grove, In bold ambition, let me twine ; There plight my truth and faithful love, And, proudly, call the monarch mine." The clouds of winter veil the fky, The whittling winds begin to roar ; Around the fcreaming fea-fowl fly, And fill with ftirieks the frighted fhore. Around the Oak the Sweet-Pea clings, And foftly folds her feeble arms ; While through his boughs the tempeft fings, He ftands unmindful of her charms. In vain, unhappy plant, in vain, She feeks for aid beyond her power j Her tendrils ftrew the wafted plain, And wild winds tear each blufhing flower. Let this fhort tale, my lovely fair, A plain, but ufeful, maxim prove \ That mutual aid and foftering care^ Are only found in equal love* ( 2 4 ) ' EPITAPH, ON THE DEATH OF MISS ELLEN TOBYN, WHO DIED AT WEXFORD, MARCH 1 4, 1 796* AGED TWENTY SEVEN. BY THE SAME. If artlefs innocence, and native truth, A form engaging, and a heart flncere 5 Torn hence, by Death, in all the bloom of youth, Deferve the facred tribute of a tear. On Ellen's tomb, the pious meed beflow, May kindred piety thy foul infpire ; Her angel form lies mouldering here below, Her angel fpirit fwells the heavenly choir. ( 2 S ) B R I G H T L E Y. In the month of July, 1791, the writer vifited the ruined Manfion of his Fore-Fathers, at Brightley, in Devonfhire. His feelings upon that occafion are exprefled in the following verfcs, written May 1791. NE VILE VELIS. BY THE SAME. If in the bofom of this devious wood, Far from the fight of men, ye love to dwell, Whence frighted Taw efcapes with hurried flood, While all his waves with panting terror fwell. If, in thefe awful fhades, in calm repofe, Forgeting mortal cares, with mortal breath ; Where the brown oak around his mantle throws, Ye haunt your favourite woodlands even in death. Souls of my fathers ! guide my wandering feet. To that dark dell, where lit your fading forms ; Where, far from ftrife, ye hold communion fweet, And, far from care, deride the palling florms. ( 26 ) I hear the hallowed found, the yielding boughs, Obfequious, mew a paflage thro' the grove j I feel my heart beat high, my fpirit roufe, And now they fpeak in ftrains of joy and love. " "Welcome, thrice welcome, to thefe facred (hades ; ' To fathers for their loyalty renown'd, * Who know the bloom of virtue never fades, " Who ne'er the flain of foul difhonour found.'* And now I fee advance a manly made, Whofe open features beam with ftern delight, His airy armour glitters thro' the glade, And his plum'd helmet fheds a waving night. " My fon," he cries, " I mark'd the rifing figh j " When through the tottering hall you bent your way, " Where Brightley's walls in dreary ruin lie, " And even our memory hurries to decay. " I faw, with rapture faw, thy tearful eye, " The pious offering to a grandfire's grave ; Where deck'd with fculptur'd pomp, in filence lie, Your mothers virtuous, and your fathers brave. ( *7 J 'Though proud achievements mew our fpotlefs birth, ** Our loyalty a prouder boaft mall prove ; For, while we trod, in mortal form, the earth, " Our king poffefs'd our lives, our fwords, our love. And when fanatic fury thro' the land, Rais'd her infernal head, againft the crown ; " I faw a ruffian aim his murderous hand ; <* This arm uplifted, fell'd the traitor down. But treafon triumph'd o'er my haplefs king, * His facred blood, by villain hands, was fhed ; " Then did the wretched land with difcord ring, And anarchy diftracYing darknefs fpread. " But, e'er my wearied limbs had funk to reft, I faw my monarch's fon regain his throne j The glorious vifion, calm'd my troubled breafl, " I funk in death without a parting groan. 5 And, you my fon, attend to my command, Defend your king, be loyalty your pride ; And, mould contending faftion tear the land, Prove it moft firmly, when moft fiercely tried. ( 2S ) THE PROSTITUTE. See where the poor abandoned outcaft wretch, From virtue's fweet fociety cut off, Saunters, with wanton ftep and carelefs air, Along the buftling flreets, with looks forlorn, Enrob'd in loofeft trim, and ev'ry charm Difplay'd, to tempt th' unwary youthful heart, And raife the luflful wifh. Think ye, while thus She thoughtlefs roams beneath the moon's pale beams* And fmiles feem dimpling on her faded cheek, As yon rude wights, with fpirits high enflamed, From draining deep the fancy-ftirring bowl, Approach. Think ye, that appetite alone Prompts the foft blandifhments, the tender figh, The love-alluring look, the unchafte kifs, And eager prefiure of the glowing hand, Anxious to win them to her arms ? Ah, no ! ( 29 I Beneath this mafk of counterfeited joys, The heart, convuls'd, bewails her wretched fate ; And worlds, if worlds could be at her command, She'd deem a barter of the proudeft gain, For virgin innocence and confcious peace, The once lov'd inmates of her guilelefs breaft, E'er fraudful man, with diabolic arts, In evil hour, with well diffembled love, Gain'd on her wilding foul robb'd the fweet maid Of treafures of inefHmable price, And left her friendlefs to the rude attacks Of prudifh fcorn, the pooreft of the poor. Ye gen'rous youths, whofe noble fouls afpire Beyond the feelings of the vulgar crowd ; If ye, perchance, in paflion's wild career Are led to vifit fcenes of mameful vice, And fome fuch object as the mufe bewails, Won by your mild demeanour, mould unfold, With many a heart-felt pang, her fad, fad, tale Of matchlefs woe how firft her youthful heart, The trueft heart that e'er affection warm'd, " Repos'd its confidence on empty vows, And fell a vittim at the fhrine of love : How then, " abandon'd on the world's wide ftage," An orphan, poor and deftitute, a prey ( 3 ) To favagc man by cenfure's keeneft ftings Encompafs'd round, t'avert the gripe of want, The lovlieft form that goodnefs ever grac'd, Surrender'd up to fliame and feif-reproach, The dire attendants of a life of guilt. Oh ! to your bofoms clafp the fuffYmg fair, Kifs off contrition's tear, and from thefe haunts Of fouleft infamy, with friendly hand Conduct the wand'rer to fome fafe retreat. From virtue's rude afTailants far remov'd, There, like the good Samaritan of old, Pour wine and oil into her bleeding wounds; To pity mild, join tender counfels for Her future good ; teach her religion pure, And chearful induftry, whofe grateful aid May ever furnifh out the plenteous means To banifh want, and all her chilly train , So {hall her each remaining hour of life, In gentle peace glide on, and at each dawn And clofe of day, her fervent orifons In penitential fweetnefs fhall afcend To mercy's throne, where greater joy prevails, In minds angelic, o'er one guilty wretch Repentant, than o'er ninety-nine of thofe Whole lives unfpotted, no repentance need. ( 3* ) How will your hearts, ye worthy youths, exult, When ye to peaceful folitude retire, To contemplate, in retrofpe&ion fweet, On aftions fuch as thefe ; yet not alone To this fhort life are your rewards confin'd ; Soon fhall the 'hour, the awful hour arrive, When, in the prefence of affembled worlds, The judge of all your plaudits fhall proclaim, " And all the hofls of heav'n fhall fhout you welcome!" ( 32 ) HIALMAR AND HYRINDA. BY w. B. The following Stanzas were put together, to exhibit in one point of view, a variety of the fuperftitions of the fcandinavian tribes ; as th<-y remain recorded in fragments of the icelandic poetry. Hyrinda. Clouds have wrapt the ftars in darknefs, And the failing moon befhroud ; Thro' the drear, and mofs-clad ruin, The ftirill tempeft whittles loud. Deep I hear the groaning thunder, Light'nings play around my head ; Whilft my lone, and anxious footfleps, Seek the maniions of the dead. ( 33 ) In yon grave is laid Hialmar, Mightieft of the * giant brood ; O'er the f web of time, eventful, With unbounded ken endued. Him, by my refiftlefs numbers, I muft roufe from his repofe; That, conftrained, his voice unerring May the hidden fate difclofe. Charm ! which to the winds I whifper, Let no footflep wander nigh ; Whilfl the folemn deed is doing Yell not wolf, nor owlet cry. Now the written fpell I fcatter, As I pace the tomb around : Now, unto the north I turn me, Smiting thrice the yawning ground. * The heroes who accompanied Odin in the migration of the Scan- dinavians from Afia, were honoured by their pofterity, with the title of giants ; but the fuperftition feems to have alluded more to the magical knowledge, and preternatural endowments, which they were fuppofed to poflefs, than to any idea of extraordinary fize. f The hiftory of all human occurrences was fuppofed to be woven in a loom, by the Val-Kyriur, or deftinies. ( 34 ) tVarrior ! by thy prowefs hear me, By the amulet I bear ! By the myftic rhyme of * Hela Graven on this bloody fpeaf. Virkar o'er the wintry ocean, From Hyrinda wanders far ; To the hoftile ftiore of Erin He has borne the ftorm of war. Months have parted in tedious fequence, Tho' not long he meant to roam ; Clear this painful expectation : Comes my hero vittor home ? HlALMAR. Ha ! what voice with drain unhallowed Dares pervade this awful gloom? Ceafe thy facrilegious errand, Spare the quiet of the tomb- Hela, from whence our hell, meant properly the ftibterranean region ; but it was fometimes perfonified ; at the mother of the fates giants, monfters, &c. ( 35 ) Hyrinda. "Warrior ! no irreverent motive, Leads me to thy marble bed ; Nor, unwilling from thy {lumber, Dofr. thou raife thy helmed head. Oft the traveller belated, Hears thee by the * moon's pale light j With thy voluntary defcant, Pierce the fdence of the night. If thy voice can flow fpontaneous, Iff thou ma/ft invoked forbear : Anfwer at my potent bidding ! Anfwer ! anfwer, to my prayer. Hialmar. Since no awe can bar thy purpofe, Dread the vengeance of mine ire ; Lo ! the fatal flame arifes, Haflen from the wrathful f fire. * The ftories of the Scalds, the bards of the Scandinavians, are full of inftances of dead warriors amufing themfelves, by fitting up in their graves, and fmging to the moon. f* Many examples are quoted by the Scalds, of perfons who, hav- ing attempted to penetrate the tombs of the dead, were repulfed by est ( 3^ ) Hyrindx. Know I not that men fepultured Loud may threat, but cannot harm ? This weak flame is all illufion, tJiitte- And innocuous i* thy arm. Once again, I pray thee, warrior ! Ere I ufe a harmer fpell, Show companion for a lover ; And how fares my Virkar, tell ? HlALMAR. I have feen the bird of carnage, Wing its way from Erin's land ; Gorged it feeks its native region, Blood has ftained the hoflile flrand. Hie thee home, undaunted maiden ! Seek no more of me to know : Patient wait, if joy the iftue ; Speed it not, if it be woe. flames that arofe from the grave. It was a fupetflition probably io- culcated with a view of preferring funeral monuments from wanton injury. It was, however, held that if any perfon had the intrepidity not to fhrink from thcfe flames, they could not be hurted by them; for they did not admit that the dead had any power over the living. ( 37 ) Hyrinda* Yes, my bofom meets the prefage ; Paufe not, but the worft reveal ; For afFecTion nought of anguifti Equal to fulpenfe can feel, HlALMAR, Late I faw befide the * banquet, A new couch in Odin's hall; Arms unclaim'd, the Dwarfins' labour, Hung againfl the gilded wall. Loudly fang the fatal f filters, Loth I wound thy tender ear, Warriors ! meet the valiant ftranger, f Virkar from the field comes here. * Departed heroes were, invited by Qdin to refide with him in the Val Halla, or hall of the flain. Each had there his couch at the banquet, he had alfo arms, which were forged for him by the Doer- gar, or Dwarfins, minute fubterranean beings, for the purpofc ex- prefled below. f TheDisiR, who feem to have been a fiibordinate clafs of the Val-Hyriur, were virgins, whofe whole employment was to fignify Uic invitation of Odin to dying heroes. I A 38 ) f Here, he reaps the meed of valour, <( From the cares of earth releafed ; " Taftes each da} r , the joys of * combat ; And at night partakes the feaft." Sigh not, maiden, for the hero ; Viclor fongs have knolled his knell ; Fame awaits thf dying lover, Virkar conquered, though he fell ! Hyrinda. Peace be to thee, noble warrior ! No rude ftep thy tomb profane ; Pardon that my anxious fo o Utep s Made me ufe the magic ftrain. Now I mufl the verfe memorial Trace on his fepulchral ftone ; That when future warriors fee it, They may think of times foregone. When they talk of former heroes, They may Virkar's fame recall : He mall, as they praife his valour, Smile well pleafed in Odin's hall. * The happinefs of the heroes in the Val Halla confided in fighting and flaying each other every morning. It was, however, but a temporary death they fuflered in thefe combats; for after the fray they all rofe again, and pafTed the evening in drinking wine, or metheglin, out of the fkulls of thofc they had killed on earth. ( 39 ) My heart's blood, this duty ended, Eager fhall the faulchion ftain 5 Left the doom of nature clafs me Amidft * Thor's ignoble train. ou. Then, thy powerful interceffion With the flain's great ruler lend, That, within his realm admitted I may on my Virkar tend. Sedulous I'll brace his corflet, Fix his helm and bring his fhield i Earneft lead the fable courfer, That mult bear him to the field. Joyful fhall I ferve my hero, When the bufy banquet glows ; When the rofy liquor fparkles Erom the fkulls of Slaughtered foes. Now, no more the figh fhall flutter. Now, no more the tear fhall flow ; Peace be to thee, noble chieftain ! Quickly we fhall meet below \ * They who died a natural death, unleft much dirHnguifiied ia war during life, fell under the dominion of Thor, and refided in a very inferior ftate to thofe who perifhed violently. The latter became fubje&s of Odin, who was thence called Yai.-Fa.dk, the father, or ruler, of the flaw.. ( 40 ) R I O. BY WILLIAM DRENNAN, M. D, I. Here fits J***** P******, and could I but find A pallet well charg'd with the colours of mind* I fhould venture to paint, with inadequate plan, The lights and the fhades of this great, little, man. Achilles, 'tis faid, had a fkin made of fteel, And was callous to all-r-fave the kibe on his heel : But our friend feels, all over, the fling or the fmart, And wherever you touch 'tis a pulfe from the heart: With fuch fenfe and fuch forenefs, I can't underftand, Why he ne'er feels an itch in the palm of the hand. ( 4i ) Acute, argumentative, agile yet ftrong, With a heart ever right, and a head feldom wrong, With paffions too prompt to fit quiet and ftill ; In his principles fix'd, with a wandering will ; Perplext in his creed, and too apt fo to tell us ; In his friendfhips a little too lovingly jealous ; Still eager to get or to give fatisfadrion, He dives after motives, and mifles the a&ion. No axiom fo clear, but he'll make it more plain ; No a&ion fo fair, but he likes to explain; Too nice in the right, too fincere for profeffion, And with meaning fo full that he fails in expreffion, For when crowds of ideas all ftrive to rum out, Each muft elbow his neighbour, and move him about; But his life and his language have mafculine merit ; Both are deeply imprefs'd with the print of his fpirit : It burns in his eyes it enlarges his frame And it tempers his clay not with water but flame His words burft afunder the fhackling of art, And the pen that he writes with is dipt in his heart. Tis not from a fountain like this you can draw, Any languid harangue of loquacious law, Tis clear fenfe gufhing out, unconfin'd, incomprefs'd, From the pure and perennial fpring in the breail. When all was at fea all confufion and fear Like the fea-man's finall needle he fhow'd how to fleer, ( 42 > Nor ever declin'd from the patriot direction, 'Till the lightning of Grattan, once, hurt the attraction > But the traniient dip, and the flight deviation, Prove the needle points true, in it3 natural ftation. No prancing, curvetting, epifcopal poney, No defk petit-maitre, no church macaroni, With his curl carv'd as ftifF as the top of the croziefj And manners more pliant and loofe than an ofier ; But tall and erect and with refolute air, And with head that difdains ev'n one hypocrite hair, Here flands W****** C******* the ftem of our tablc a A column of prelacy, ftately and flable. The capital, doric ; and doric, the bafe ; It excels more in ftrength than corinthian grace ; Without flourifh, or frieze, or parifian plafter, A pillar for ufe, not a fhowy pilafler ; Such a pillar when Samfon was call'd out for fport, Perhaps might have fav'd the whole philifline court, Sam, might crack all his finews, and bow with hia weight But Will would uphold both the church and the ftate On all who dare /hake that convenient alliance He bends his black brows and he fcowls a defiance ; Yet forgets, while he thunders againft reformation, That what is eftablifhment, was innovation. ( 43 ) Our patriots, alas ! are all dwarfilh and weak, Too puny to make ariftocracy quake.* But oh ! could thy principles change to the whig, Could'fi thou throw them as readily off as thy wig j That old tyrant call'd Cuftom, in vain, would refift, The momentum of fuch a republican fift. His ftrong caftle would tumble, like Jericho's wall, And, his talifman broken the giant muft fall. More folid, than mining; more weighty, than wordy^ In the right, very ftout ; in the wrong, very fturdy ; Both fudden and fure in the grafp of conception, But too fond of the rule, to admit the exception. Too tenacious in tenet to fport an opinion, Each dogma with him has defpotic dominion. Too apt to miftake argumentative frrife, And to lay down a word as he'd lay down his life. He takes always good aim, but too quick in the timing, He flumes the bird and his temper burns priming. His heart always flames, with good fuel well fed, But it fends up, at times, a thick fmoke to the head ; And 'till that clears away, 'tis not eafy to know The fat, or the motive, the friend, or the foe. Then take up this tankard, of rough mafly plate, Not for fafhion preferr'd, but for value and weight. ( 44 ) When you lift up the cover then think of our vicar, And take a hard pull at the orthodox liquor That keeps hale and hearty, in every climate, And makes the poor curate as proud as the primate. III. But when genius and judgment are called to the feafl, Make the Trio complete and cement them with tafte. And for talle let me call on our courtly Collector, Not the king of his company, but the protector ; Who, with eafy hilarity, knows how to fit In a family compact with wifdom and wit. With the art to know much, without feeming to know it, Joins the art to have wit, without {training to fhow it. For his mind, not cafe-harden'd, by form or profeifion, Always yields with a fpring, and impels by con-, ceffion. True politenefs, like fenfe, is begotten, not made, But all our profeffions fmell ftrong of a trade All vocation is craft both the black and the fcarlet, The doctor the pleader the judge and the harlot-, No collector of medals or foflils fo fine ; He gathers good-fellows around his good wine. No collector of fhells, or of ftufFd alligators, But of two-leg'd, unfeather'd, erect, mutton-eaters i ( 45 ) That join, heart in hand, to drive round the decanter, While the bifhop hob-nobs with the lowly dhTenter. Here, the puddle of party ne'er rifes in riot, But the oil of urbanity keeps the waves quiet : Neither faction nor feud his good-humour efpoufes, He's the happy Mercutio who " curfes both houfes ;" With a pretty plump place, and a cellar well ftor'd, Makes his bow to the bench, and his bow to the board ; In political faith knows how much to believe, And, when 'tis convenient, to laugh in his fleeve j His fenfe is well fet, not a word out of joint, Rather too much in epigram too much for point. With fome effort, his eafe, with fome ftifFnefs, his fenfe His fpirit is free the expreffion is tenfe. ' His brand on our hogfheads he lawfully puts, But 'tis harder to brand with his wit all our butts ; 'Tis our irifh primum our raw manufacture, That keeps Well thro' all feafons, nor needs an in- fpectar. Thus in mind and in manners, a man " comme il faut," He glides fmoothly thro' life, with a Terpentine flow That ftill tends to a point, when it feems to incline ; And the curve gently blends with the rigid right-line. ( 4* ) EPITAPH, MRS. R A I N E Y, OF GREENVILLE, COUNTY OF DOWN, BY THE SAME. The light of mem'ry, ftruggling thro' the gloom, Awakes, to life, the tenant of this tomb ; Reftores each mild, majeftic, matron, grace, Dwells on the form, and lingers on the face j In ftrong delufion, waits to hear her fpeak, And fees the bloom juft mantling o'er the cheek ; Her mind recalls the vary'd lovelinefs, The pow'r to warm to harmonize to blefe. The tranquil conftancy in acYing right, And, the fine fenfe of elegant delight % ( 47 ) &cr breaft by duty warm'd, by goodnefs grac'd, While round it play'd the lambent flame of tafte. tiers every charm that could in courts prevail, Her charm, and choice, to fteal along the vale. Hers the full fweetnefs of domeftic life, The friend the daughter fifler mother wife The wife I oh ! thou, whom mofl: my foul defircs, In whom I liv'd with whom, my blifsi expires j In vain does mem'ry pierce this mortal gloom', Thy hufband fees and only fees the tomb. ( 48 ) TO R E L A N D. BY THE SAME. My country ! fiiall I mourn, or blefs, Thy tame and wretched happinefs ? Tis true ! the vaft Atlantic tide, Has fcoop'd thy harbours deep, and wide, Bold to protect, and prompt to fave, From fury of the weftern wave : And Shannon points to Europe's trade, For that, his chain of lakes was made, For that, he fcorns to wafte his ftore, In channel of a fubjec"r. more, But courts the fouthern wind to bring A world, upon its tepid wing. ( 49 ) True ! thy refplendent rivers run, And fafe beneath a temp'rate fun, Springs the young verdure of thy plain* Nor dreads a torrid, eaftern reign. True ! thou art bleft, in Nature's plan, Nothing feems wanting here but man. Man to fubdue, not ferve the foil, To win, and wear its golden fpoil, Man-.-confcious of an earth his own % No favage biped, torpid, prone ; Living, to dog his brother brute, And hung'ring for a lazy root \ Food for a foft, contented flave, Not for the hardy and the brave., Had Nature been her enemy, Ierne might be fierce and free. To the flout heart, and iron hand, Temp'rate each fky, and tame each land \ A climate and a foil lefs land. Had form'd a map of richer mind. Now, a mere fterile fwamp of soul, Tho' meadows fpread, and rivers roll j A nation of abortive men, That dart the tongue ; and point the pec. ( s ) And, at the back of Europe, hurl'd A bafe posterior of the world. In lap of Araby the bleft, Man lies with luxury oppreft ; While fpicy odours, blown around, Enrich the air, and gems the ground. But thro' the pathlefs, burning wafte, Man marches with his patient beaft, Braves the hot fun, and heaving fand, And calls it free and happy land. Enough to make a defert known, Arms, and the Man," and fand, and ft one. ( 5' ) \ THB ASPIRATION. BY w****** D******, O ! how I long to be at reft, No more oppreffing, or oppreft To fink aflcep, on Nature's nurfmg breaft ! In Earth's green cradle to be laid, Where larks may build, where lambs have play'd, And a clear ftream may flow, and footh my hov'ring fhade. The twilight mem'ry loves to fpread, Haply, may linger o'er my head, And half illume the long departed dead. P % ( 5* ) TO A YOUNG LADY, FROM HER. GUARDIAN SPIRIT. BY THE SAME. Maid much belov'd f to heav'n-fent truth attend, A fpirit (peaks but liflen to the friend. That guardian angel, whofe unwearied care, Form'd thee fo pure, and fafhion'd thee fo fair: Who, like the wall of paradife, arofe, To guard thee fafe, amid furrounding foes ; Who left his heav'n, to point thee out the road, Regain'd it in thy mind, and made it his abode That fpirit fpeaks and, O ! be free from dread* That fpirit hovers o'er thy honour'd head, Looks down, with ever new delight, to find His image beaming from thy fpotlefs mind* ( 53 ) My form I might reveal, and flafh to fight, In all the living majefty of light, My ample wings expand, and fill the room, With fplendor of highHeav'n, with Eden's loft perfume; Entranc'd in light, o'erwhelm'd with ardent gaze, Thy fenfe would flirink, and ihun the vivid blaze ; My fiow'r would droop, or vainly feek to Ihun The fcorching radiance of the parent fun. Th' event I fear, and hide myfelf in made, Unfeen the angel, unabafh'd the maid. Lift then, O I lovely maid, to truth attend, Forget the angel, but believe the friend. When on thy lips the unfledg'd accents hung, And feebly flutter'd on thy falt'ring tongue, When ftill in motion, fweetly vagrant ftill, Thro' its bleft Eden, flow'd life's little rill ; With frefh fupplies I fed its babbling tide And clear as cryftal made the current glide, Sweet fiow'rs fprung up, profufe, where'er it came, And conftant fun fhine fparkled on its ftream. Old Time ftood wond'ring, while the fearlefs child, Play'd with his lock, and at his wrinkles fmil'd : And as he gaz'd intent, the frolic Hours Stole his broad fcythe, and hid it deep in fiow'rs.. < 54 ) Thus bleft of heav'n, thy op'ning beauties grew, The pafling year flill added fomething new : You caught the mantle as the prophet flew. \ I faw thy virtues take their morning flight, And fpread their wings to catch the liquid light : Bright'ning they rofe, with heav'n's own luftre crown'd, Then fearful dropt from high, and fought the humble ground. I faw the new-born thought, in words not dreft, Cling, like a blufhing infant, to thy breafl : I fee it, now, as Venus from her wave, Wilhing to leave it, yet afraid to leave, Sweetly it turns the half-feen form away, And gently bends to fhun the gaze of day. Twas I who fent thy ever-varying dreams, That 'rofe like clouds illum'd by Fancy's beams v And fail'd along, my breath th' impelling wind. Thro' the clear azure of thy fettled mind ; And fome I fent to raife thy tranfient fears, Then touch'd thee with my wand, and faw thee wake in tears. I make th' angelic voice fo fweetly rife, Swell the bold note, and lift it to the ikies. ( ss ) v O luxury of found ! to one alone That one a parent ! luxury unknown, Penfive fhe fits, while mufic floats around, And fometimes ftarts, as if fhe heard the found j The found ftill flutters o'er and fears to reft, Like fome fmall fongfter o'er its ruin'd neft ; When now too fad to fing too weak to fly It utters one flirill note and lights to die. But let no cloud o'ercaft thy dawning day, Thy mother Mens to a fofter lay, To fweeter founds to mufic more refin'd She liftens to the harmony of mind. That harp of God to its creator plays, Her life an Alleluiah in his praife. Mufic the angel in the breaft muft hear While his foft whifpers footh her mental ear. Mufic refponfive to t thofe notes alone Which fwell, enraptur'd, round the fapphire throne. i Sweet Maid, attend the fleet-wing'd minute flies, Deflin'd to waft me to my native flues. Thy Genius leaves thee but he leaves behind, Prudence beft guardian to th' obedient mind At her fage call, the vagrant paffions fly, Crowd round her parent wing, and cow'ring lie ; ( 5<* *) Compell'd by pow'r fupreme, to heav'n I bear The charge which heav'n committed to my care : Should I then grieve to make thy virtues known To make th' applaufes of all worlds, thy own ? My lyre, in joy, mail fpeak its fweeteft lays, My wings diffufe the richeft dew of praife. Yet whence this weight ? my languid wings move ' flow I ftrike my lyre it founds the note of woe Slowly I rife to Heav'n fweet Eden fmiles below.- I mail return, to catch thy parting breath, To gild the grave, and blunt the dart of Death. In bright proceflion make thy virtues pafs, While Mem'ry looks, and Fancy holds the glafs ; When life's laft light mail tremble in thine eyes, And ce'afe to animate thefe cryftal fkies, Then fhall thefe virtues pour the cheering ray, To decorate the fetting of thy day. The dazzling glories of the day may fade, The crefcent hope fhall rife, and brighten with the fhade. Thy faults ! where are they ? angels cannot name, A flight fmoke hovers o'er a veflal flame. ( 57 ) Which grows more bright, illum'd by mercy's ray, And as it mounts to heav'n it melts away. O thou ! who on yon pole-ftar fit'ft fublime, To mark the lapfe of ever rolling Time I feel thy Call ( 5* ) VERSES, TO A YOUNG LADY. BY THE SAME. Tho' fate for fome more happy fwain, That faultlefs form defign'd j You ftill may grant, and I may gain, Sweet wedlock with thy mind. Shall yon pure light to mortals giv'n, Illumine ev'ry part ; And this flill purer light of heav'n, Blefs but a lingle heart ? The winter fun, tho' void of heat, Still cheers the frozen pole ; O ! in this winter of my fate, At leaft illume my foul. ( S9 ) In converfe foft, we'll realize Our pure connubial joys, And as the fair ideas rife, Call them our girls and boys. Or while you read, and melting feel Soft Pity's artlefs ltile I'll watch the woe you half conceal, Beneath a weeping fmile. The fweets of fenfe were never made Pure fpirit to command : The flowret droops its colours fade Ev'n in the gath'rers hand. But virtue, like fome hallowM tree, Springs from a ftronger root ; And bears at once fair type of thee- The blofTom and the fruit. Fleeting the beauty which enfures, The love to fenfe confin'd : Eternal as itfelf endures, The marriage of the mind ( 66 ) TO A FRIEND, WRITTEN AT MALLOW. BY THE SAME. My torpid feelings now begin, Like fummer flies to caft their fldn, Creeping in humble profe too long They fpread their wings they mount in fong, Thro* tracklefs air enraptur'd flray, Or fparkle in the folar ray Or gently fip Parnaflus flream, Or hover round the flow'rs of fame. And now their wanton circles end They throng around the name of friend i There, a fweet-fcented dwelling chufe, And there diftil pierian dews Tafte then this product of the fpring And feize the fweet nor fear the fting. ( 6i ) In carelefs thought, in fruitlefs eafe, Thy D****** waftes his ufelefs days, They pafs as flakes of feather'd fnow, Melt in the ft ream that glides below: The folded arms the long-drawn figh The fun'ral ftep the earth-bent eye, Lifting at times its ample roll In fearch of the translated foul. The heart that pants for honeft fame, That fwells to meet afFecYion's beam, Are characters that ftill attend, Dear K thy wand'ring friend Doom'd, haplefs exile ! ftill to roam, And feek for health, lefs priz'd than home. That health now mines with cloudlefs ray, And, fweetly, cheers life's april day. On fancy's heights, hope fmiling ftands The changeful prifm now decks her hands : Around the gaudy beam me throws And all the bright creation glows : And while the fun that beam fupplies Sparkle her wild, romantic eyes, But mould, perchance, one hov'ring cloud The bright meridian fplendor fhroud, Ah ! foon the tranfient glories fade Ah ! foon they fink in forrow's fhade. ( 62 ) Yet why, juft heav'n, am I unblcft ? I melt not on foft pleafure's breaft ; With fober temp'rance I reftrain The dropfied thirft of fordid gain. I dive not in ambition's flood Or creep thro' minifterial mud, To deck with pearls a tyrant's ftore Then weep their lofs and dive for more. Ye crowns ! I give you leave to mine Are not the pearls of morning mine ? Mine the rich lawns where em'ralds lie, And mine the fapphires of the fky. With glow-worm gems my feet are fpread, The rain-bow triumphs o'er my head, And kings, with envy-, may behold, My mantle of the folar gold. But why this groan ? that fudden ftart ? Thcfe pallid cheeks ? this beating heart ? Ah ! fee ! the locufts fpawn'd by fpleen, Brood -r Alone, if folitude can be %% With fenfe, and fenfibility. " Then fhe'll give boldnefs to impart The wifhes of a feeling heart, * Till pity beaming from her eye, " Seems to foretell a foft reply. '< Start not, fond youth, I faid but seems, " Thefe are you know thy morning dreams " Mere froft-work in the night begun, To melt before the morning fun ; Oh ! in return, does her foft bofom prove, One partial thought for Edwin, and for Love ; Bleft be that thought oft fteal into her mind, And gently intercede, and woo her to be kind ; Seize fome foft moment, that delight employs, Not fuch delight as fprings from felfifh joys, But fuch as rather grave than gay appears, That loves to fmile, and fometimes fmiles in tears When at her touch, foft mufic breathes around, When the foul owns its fympathy with found ; When the heart melts with ev'ry melting tone, Feels others forrows, and forgets its own. Then, bleft idea, then, fuggeft the youth, Whofe plea is conftancy, whofe pride is truth ; In the fmall circuit of whofe fcarce-known name, No pompous pile afcends, no mining fpire of fame ; Yet fertile is the foil, and pure the air, And Love has built a modeft manfion there ; There folds h;s wings, forgetful now to roam, Warms his dear hut, and calls it fecond home ; Wit feldom calls Pride fcorns to be a gueft, And Fafhion's flow'rs, but wither on the breaft ; But Love is there a company alone, And pleads his caufe, who fears to plead his own Who fears to fpeak, yet fcarcely can conceal, Whofe tongue may falter, but whofe heart can feel; ( 19 ) Who cannot boaft he ever felt the fire, That burns fo fiercely it mull foon expire. ' The torch of Love, is form'd of finer flame, Plac'd in the heart, it Iheds its genial beam, Light of our lengthening life, and glory of our frame .1 ( 8 ) L O V E - E L E G Y, IMITATED FROM TIBULLUS. BY THE SAME. Nulla tuum nobis fubducet femina lcflum, Sec. Tibdllus. Yes 'twas the vow that clos'd the happy night " None of thy fex fhall tafte fuch dear delight !" Still as that night thou wert, the fame thou art, Light to my eyes, and rapture to my heart. Beauty, thro' country and thro' town, I fee, But feel it only when I look on thee ! ! that its force were felt by me alone, Then valued lefs, it would feem more my own. 1 wifh to fhun the gaping, gazing, crowd They make me jealous, and may make thee proud. True love in bleffing one, is fully bleft, Sitting in filence on the fecret neft. With thee I'd live where never footflep trod, Thy bread my home the ftranger, life, abroad. ( 8i ) O thou from care my foft and fweet repofe ! Thou moon mild rifing in a night of woes ! In lonely crowds my fole afylum plac'd ! My world amidft the folitary wafte ! Had fond Tibullus flood on Ida's hill, The rival Beauties had been rival frill. F^ir Venus, I had whifper'd ? fpare to blame, The non-pareil I keep for her I dare not name. Again do I atteft that myflic pow'r, Who mark'd our tranfports in the filent hour ! What have I done ? Now now I'll feel the fmart ; Now will me rend this unrefifting heart A fearful flave that meets his matter's eye, And flops and trembles but he dare not fly ; Whate'er thou will, I am and muft remain, Born for thy ufe and honour'd by thy chain ; Lo ! at thy feet, my fortune, fate, and fame Here on this breaft, infcribe the owner's name : Yet, not too far the pow'r of Venus brave, Who tames the tyrant, will her fuppliant fave. ( 32 ) EPIGRAM, SEEING MISS C*#****#, BY THE SAME. Her gait proclaims a daughter of the game ; Her glance is witchcraft, and her touch is flame, Tread not too near yon circling maze of grace, Nor truft too far that love-illumin'd face ; The treach'rous light will guide you to a coaft, Where life is wreck'd, and hope, itfelf, is loft > Where Love turn'd gambler, at one defp'rate flake, Lofes both wifh to give, and power to take ; All is one blank, the quick enjoyment o'er, And each fcx wakes, to feel itfelf, a whore. ( 8 3 ) TO #### r* # # * #. WHO SAID, " I CARE NOT WHAT THE CROWD MAY THINK." The crowd, my friend, have common fenfe, They feel the pow'r of pounds and pence ; And, as they feel, they prize ; For wealth when rightly underftood, Is the beft blefling of the good, The wifdom of the wife. What's wealth ? Enough and fomewhat over, Of this I own myfelf the lover, And who is not's, a ninny; What fignifies the fun-gilt cot, Without a pullet in the pot, What's life without a guinea ? f 2 ( 4 ) It is to fneak down from a garret, To fpunge on other's beef and claret, To get, but not to give ; ' To feel each rifing wifh reprefs'd, The wifh to be, by bleffing, bleft, But this is not to live. Tis not to fit, and con a theme, Or in a fmooth pellucid ftream, Thy rueful phiz behold ; And when the lunar light has fpread, A yellow radiance o'er thy head, To catch poetic gold. "Whate'er the Cynic may pretend, Money, a means, but not an end, Is happinefs below ; Oh ! for a mine of gold to give, To live, and to make others live, And clear the world of woe. To blefs unfeen, unfeen defcend, On with' ring hearts that want a friend, Like dew-drops from above ; And oft both feen and felt to pour, In one abundant Jove-like fhow'r, And fill the lap of Love. t H } For (harper fufFrings than thy own, 'Tis thine, O Penury, to groan, Stretch'd on the rack of life ; Thy cradled child unconfcious fleeps, But woe for her who wakes and weeps, The mother and the wife. O Fortune ! come, and crown my fate, Wafted along in winning ftate, Like Egypt's queen of old ; When frequent dafh'd the filver oars, And filken fails perfum'd the fhores, And Cydnus burn'd with gold. To youth and induftry and health She comes the fov'reign good of wealth, And ev'ry bleffing bears ; But to enjoy her golden mean, It muft be felt it muft be feen And fave it -from your heirs. ( 86 ) LINES, TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, AGED SEVENTEEN. BY THE SAME. I feel the fragrance of thy^early mufe, A modeft vi'let, bath'd in morning dews. Barren the foil, where no fuch hopes appear, Bloflbms like thefe, foretel the rip'ning ear. The harfh preceptor chills with cold difdain, Kind Nature loves the floVr before the grain. In ev'ry age, as ev'ry feafon kind, She loves the vernal verdure of the mind ; Smiles on the bud as on the yellow meaf, And trains to light and life, its foft evolving leaf; But tho', with wifdom, fhe can wafte her hours, And fondle with her family of flow'rs ; She hopes to find, as changeful feafons roll, Fruits more mature and harveft, of the foul ; No ofTring now for her the poet's pen Flow'rs to the fair, fhe cries, but bring me food for MEN. ( 87 ) IMITATION OF HORACE. BY THE SAME, Exegi monumcntum sere perenniu?. Horace. Tis done, the pyramid of poetry, In firm magnificence afTails the fky Fame, on the cloudlefs top, expands her wings, And fees below the wafting works of Kings : For not one wintry blaft fo high can climb, Too deep for fapping fhow*rs, for tempefts too fu blime ; And falling fnow of years, and noifelefs ftealth of time; Beneath that mow, my laurels fhall be feen, In the full frefhnefs of perennial green I fhall not die this work this work, fhall fave, The nobler half of Horace from the grave.- His fame fhall 'lighten all fucceeding times, A circling fun around the polar climes, ( 88 ) That dips its difk into the fea of night, Then mounts again his throne of ever-living light. For while the prieft afcends yon pompous road, Whofe long gradation feeks our patron-God, And, at his fide, in fadly pleafing {hade, Moves flow along the mute myfterious maid So long my name fhall triumph on the tomb, And Horace fhall be co-etern with Rome, Where Upper Nile, in annual phrenzy throws The melted mafs of ethiopian fnows ; Cleaving the cliff, that guards Sienna's fide A wild, abrupt, innavigable tide ; There, o'er the cataract, my fame fhall foar, And ftoop to hear the repercuffive roar ; "Where favage Thames, now fcarcely known to fong, Winds thro' the weflern ifle his filv'ry length along, Pregnant, perhaps, with glories yet to come, The defrin'd Tiber of fome greater Rome ; There fhall my verfe the fullen climate tame, And the rich fragrance of horatian fame Melt on the tongue, and humanize the heart, Till barb'rous nature yields to tuneful art ; Horace who made th' eolian lyre his own, To Latin meafures harmoniz'd its tone ; While the rack'd firings reveal'd their fecret charms, And roman arts kept pace with roman arms. ( 9 ) AfTume my foul ! a meritorious ftate, And proudly prefcient of thy future fate ; Be, what the gods and nature will'd thee, Great _ Come therefore come, fublimeft of the Nine ! Come, forward, from the reft, O ! Mufe divine, And with thy facile hand, and with thy fmile beni Let fall th' eternal laurel on my head, Adorn me living, and enfhrine me dead. J U u g Q J ( 9 ) TO MISS ELIZA M * * # *, SOME GUITTAR MUSIC. BY THE SAME. Not in the trifling tinkling lyre, Is mufic fought or found ; The voice muft with the note confpire, And mingle fenfe with found. Far far, beyond the fingers art. .One thrilling weeping tone j That makes the firings of ev'ry heart, Refponfive to thine own. ( 9i ) Yet vain the voice and tinkling firings With all their arts combin'd ; But to their aid Eliza brings, The mtffic of the mind. Still may that living lyre impart, More blifs than meets the ear ; And gladden, ftill, a mother's heart, And be to one more dear. n ( 92 ) AH ORIGINAL LETTER, MR. L******, ORGANIST AT ARMAGH, TO MR. J**** O***, AT NEWRY, RELATIVE TO THE SIEUR PALME. BY THE SAME. SIR, % You have afk'd me to give you in faithful narration, What the Sieur and I faid in our late converfation ; I {hall write down the whole, and to melt away time In an eafy hand-gallop of reafon and rhyme. When I read his *Addrefs, I felt ev'ry diforder In the way he defcrib'd them, and all in their order j * Vide his Addref* to the Town of Newry. ( 93 ) With the gout I was crippled, with palfy (truck dumb My brain teem'd with maggots, and worms gnaw'd my b m. My flefh wafted away, and I died with dejection, I was ftretch'd on the rack of tormenting contraction ; I fell down in the fits but my good-natur'd wife Tweak'd me hard by the nofe, and reftor'd me to life. Next a fit of the afthma depriv'd me of breath, Then he gravell'd me fairly, and fton'd me to death. At laft from much thinking on what I had read,. A deluge of dropfy came into my head Aad then it became my defire and ambition, To receive a few ftrokes from this shocking phyfician; For all that my malady feemd to require, Was to foak up the water by pafling thro' fire. I remember the time, I firft made my approach, It was juft when the Dodlor ftept out of his coach j I look'd at the arms, on his rev'rend old hack The creft a lame duck and the motto quack QUACK." Below lay a boar, and appeared to bleed, Which I've found to my forrow a damn'd bore indeed. With a wink at his wife and a jefuit grin, He caught hold of my hand, and he welcom'd me in ; ( 94 ) My hand its contraction no longer could hold, But relax'd at his touch and, in dropt the gold. Sir" faid I, " your great fame has illumin'd the nation, " And fpread over the earth, like a grand conflagration; " With the light of all fcience your head mufl be full, " For it beams on your brain thro' the cracks of your fcull; " And the foul which inhabits that learn'd attic flory, " By the help of thefe fky-lights is guided to glory ; " All your cures I have heard, all your writings I've read, " And I'm come to get water pump'd out of my head.** (f Sir," faid he, " you have feen with delight and furprife, The meteor that lately illumin'd the Ikies ; Thro' the air with fuch fplendid celerity driv'n, That, Sir, was the luminous Palme of heav'n ; I call the fame light make the fame hilling noile, I'm the wonder of women, and terror of boys ; I caufe and I cure almofl every ail, A rocket my head and a cracker my tail ; At one end, I'm all fire for the poor paralytic, And difcharge at the other, the air call'd mephitic ; Now, Sir, in your head, I'll juft augre a hole, Then lift from the water the half-drowning foul ; ( 95 ) And when I have brought her fecurely to land, I fhall mount her aflride on the pineal gland ; But perhaps for fuch boring there is no occafion, We may foo'n foak it up, with a warm embrocation." Then he pour'd out fome liquid upon my bare fcull, While I roar'd all the time, like the Phalaris Bull ; Next, towards his electric machine was I led, And large drops of fire, fell, like rain, on my head, Which made me re-bellow, with exquifite pain, And the water to bubble, and boil, in my brain ; Then he forc'd me to fwallow a poifonous potion, Which bred in my bowels, flrange noife and commotion; * And now, Sir," faid he, " I will cure your difeafe, < In but twenty more vilits and twenty more fees." " Sir," faid I, my difeafe is a mofl curfed evil, " But to die of the doctor, is worfe than the devil; You're a Will o' the Wifp, that is form'd in a fog, " To bewitch filly travellers into a bog ; From putrefcence it rifes, and plays in the air, " And then it is gone and the devil knows where ; " Now it mines in the place, where it firft feem'd to fink, and now ev'ning comes oh, Like a widow who grieves that her huiband is gone ; But her weeds are put on with fo charming a grace, And yon crefcent, the moon, fo enlightens her face ; Her cheeks are fufFus'd with fuch delicate red, And her twinkling eyes keep fuch ftir in her head ; That fhe*s ftill like a widow, both kind and forgiving, Who can live for the dead, and can die for the living. Now the belles, and the beaux, meet to fimper and fip, And much does fall out 'tween the cup and the lip ; For all that is faid, muft be witty and bright, The lips are fo red and the teeth are fo white j ( 97 ) And I'm fure to the ladies, 'tis needlefs to (how That from ev'ry bonne bouche there muft fall a bon-mot. O how pleafant to fit by a babbling river, Running on, running on, for ever, and ever ; The ruftic may wait 'till the river is gone, As it ran, fo it runs, and will ever run on. 'Tis at tea that the bud of the lip learns to blow, That the ice-plant grows gracious, and (hakes off the fnow j Ev'n him who at dinner, fat mute as a block, Or like to a lighter that's jamm'd in a lock, Tea lifts to the leyel of communication, And he glides down the current of glib converfation Celeftial water ! true Helicon ftream ! Pure fount of the poets meridian dream- Divine coalition ! tea, fugar, and cream ; Sweet folace of life ! from whence happinefs fprings, To duchefs and dowdy to coblers and kings ; It is thine to make body with fpirit agree ; Thou art potent to chace e'en the fpeftre ennui ; It is thine the fierce throb of the pulfe to reft rain, . And raife the fick head from the pallet of pain \ To temper the bitters of family ftrife, And flacken, a little, the cordage of life. But now for the Bason, the ladies prepare, And forfake the warm water, to tafte the cool air j Q } ( 9* ) See, in rows, how they wind down the terpentine ftrcer, O'er a carpet of nature fo foft and fo fweet ; While to give more diftinction to ev'ry row, It is ty'd at each end, with a well-puft-out beau j Not a bow made of ribbon and lace, and all that, But a chitterlin beau with a head and a hat ' 9 A hat cock'd with air, and a head cock'd with clarer, Like a well-furnifh'd houfe, with a great empty garret. To freer thro' fuch flreets, requires mariners art, 'Tween Scylla a cellar Charybdis a cart But the fair are protected by monflrous fine fellows, As e'er flutter'd fans, or expanded umbrellas ; One hand ferves to pilot the damfels divine, And a fwitch fills the other to keep off the fwine. At length o'er the bridge, glide the radiant files, And quite dazzle the moon, while the River-God fmiles. On the Ifland arriv'd, it is needlefs to halt, Good -humour and witferve for fugar and faltj The end of their labours at lafl they attain, And are free of the Bason in fpite of the chain. Then they fpread o'er the walk that's fo neat and fo trim For all Bafons are fhabby without a bright brim ; ( 99 ) Not a blade of grafs grows where it ought not to grow, Not an unpolifh'd pebble dare pefter the toe ; They meander along with a fmooth undulation, And the trees ftand flock Hill with profound admiration. Yet their leaves feem all lift'ning to ev'ry remark, As wifhing to have them infcrib'd on the bark, While the moon walks, on high, with her very beft face on, i And at times calls a glance in her mirror the Bason, Or to heighten the beauty it feems to conceal, She peeps thro' a cloud, as a prude thro' her veil ; For the fun muft refign to his filler the art, Which fooths ev'ry fenfe, while it foftens the heart ; And throws that delicious light o'er the face Where Night and where Day feem to meet and em- brace. That dear doubtful light which lerves to difcover, Much more than the lady dare own to the lover ; But the chillnefs of modelly keeps all fupprefs'd, Like the dew on the gauze that envelopes the breafl ; Challe Luna looks down on the favourite fair, And her heart beats a ruffle to bid her beware. Now turning, returning, line prelfes on line, All with airs damn'd delightful, and dev'lilh divine j Each line paffes by, with bright eyes enfilading, Or beneath the broad fhade of the hat ambufcading ; G 2 ( ioo ) For the flintieft breaft may ftrike fire in the dark, And the blunteft conductor can draw a bright fpark ; And hence nothing pointed in females is found, But all is protuberant fwelling and round ; Nothing turns from the touch nothing fhrinks from the fight, But all bounces forward, and bumps into light ; Ev'n the bofom difdains to retreat from the view, B^ut heaves up the window, and afks " who are you?'* O ! why take fuch pains to be tumid and tall, When the Venus that models all beauty, is fmall ; And in well-guarded nakednefs, ftrives to feem lefs, It were eafy to make her indecent by drefs But the Statue would blufh to be trick'd in the ton, With a round-about rump, and a fwelling bouffon. And now but dear Zara, pray take up my pen, For with fo many nows, you may afk me what then ? What then ? why review as they pafs in a line, From the doflor in boots to the dapper divine ; From the quick-filver fmart, to the leaden- head Tony,"} From the cravated count to the cit macaroni, > And the tight little parfon, that rides the tight poneyiJ Then fketch me a view of the favourite fair, And prove all your rules, by the line, and the square. ( *oi ) OEM, ADDRESSED TO MRS. SIDDON& BY THE SAME. Siddons accept my tributary tear, Nor fcorn an offering humble, but fincere: Not clouds of fragrance curling to the fkies, Nor golden cenfers form the facrifice ; More precious far, the hand of humble love, That on the altar lays " th' unblemifh'd dove." In Thee, the broken heart finds fweet relief* And lulls its fuffring with ideal grief: Loft to the ills of life, it leaves behind, Corroding care, and quarrel of the mind ; The harm pain foftens in thy foothing tone, Wond'ring, we melt at forrows not our own ; Our own lie hufh'd, in fhort and balmy fleep, But 'tis ftrange happinefs, with Thee, to weep. ( 102 ) Bleft be that art, which makes misfortune wear, A form fo mild, as only cofls a tear, When mirth would madden can our woes beguile, When mirth would only force an agonizing fmilc. Delightful, then, to fee thy paffions roll, Driv'n in the tempeft of Califta's foul. To mark the wafteful deluge of the breafl, When hov'ring love fo vainly feeks to reft j No light divine no breath of God to blefs, Wretched but great fublime in wickednefs. Foolifh young man ! to think Califta's charms, Could tafte the circle made by modeft arms, Call not a friv'lous Cupid to thy aid, In light'ning and in thunder meet the maid j Refifllefs flafh with ev'ry bafe defire, And in thy fierce embrace-^fhe'll fmilingly expire. Ah ! Siddons ! drive not in this drefs to win* Our hearts too facile of themfelves to fin In thee the Devil wears fomething too divine, And Abra'm's bofom is forgot for thine Act from the moral of thy life and move, With awful dignity of wedded love ; From bold fedution ftart and lift thine eyes, As if to draw the light'ning from the ikies ; Then bend at once, their fierce collected blaze, And blaft th'aftonifh'd wretch that kneels and prays.- ( Ufa ) Let our hearts hear thy long-protracTed moan, Pouring its mellow, melancholy, tone ; Like the fweet horn, that floats upon the gale, And flreams its mufic down fome lonely vale. Let cares maternal heave the anxious breaft, And clafp thy child, and tremble, to be blefs'd ; Or, give the look that calms the father's fears, While the white bofbm drinks his falling tears, Sees the blood redden on his pallid cheek, And looks a happinefs, too great to fpeak ; Bends o'er his face, with eyes of dewy light, Watches the kindling life, and fmiles fupreme delight. Or, let the poet once allot the part Sublime thy nature but thy pathos, art. O ! then aflume the part of Pallas ftand The ftern avenger of a blood-ftain'd land, Beautv and terror mingling in thy face With fiery motion, and with awful grace ; O'er the calm eyes, thy curling brows be feen, Like thunder gath'ring round the blue ferene : Thy black plumes ruftle with the coming ftorm Wisdom to feeble men a fearful form - On bafe of adamant thy feet be prefs'd, And on thy arm, the dreadful Egis refl ( i4 ) Where endlefs anguifli of the eyes is roll'd, And round the gafping head the ferpents glide in gold, While life in monumental ftone is laid, As the fhield fhifts its gloomy breadth of fliade Then Goddefs then move on, with might divine, The ftrength and fwiftnefs of thy Sire be thine -, For pow'r Almighty frill thro' Wifdom flows, And bleft the bolt of Jove which Pallas throws ; But e'er the vengeance from thy hand be hurl'd Stop and addrefs the Giants of the World. Tyrants ! for whom lies human life defae'd, A tangled wildernefs a dreary wafle Whofe lavage fport with Nimrod firfl began, And down the fteeps of time has hunted man ; Made him in ev'ry flate, or food, or game, Purfued him, wild ; or kennel'd him, if tame ; Taught human hounds to join the bloody chace, And fix the famifh'd fang in their own wretched race. Tyrants ! whofe arms upheld by beafts of prey, Or captive men, more monfVrous ftill than they ; Lions and tigers under propping law, And grafping charters with contracted paw ; Tyrants ! in vain you maflacre your kind, Your fwords but ferve to propagate the mind ; ( io 5 ) Vainly yon pyramid of heads will rife - My father's eagle from the fummit flies, And feeks fome facred fhrine fome Cato's breaft, |j Where the whole fpirit of the pile may reft. To Csefar's fcale lean'd all the hoft of heav'n, Cato, tho' conquer'd, kept the ballance even ; The Gods could not deftroy the Hero's weight, Their choice was Fortune but his will was Fate. Why thus affecl the worfhip of the (ky ? Were ye not born ? and are you not to die ? Why make men murmur at the pow'r divine And curfe his world becaufe they feel it thine ? Becaufe they feel that the fame impious plan, Lifts Men to Gods, and finks the God to Man The God, a piece of ornamented clay The Man, a haughty (lave, and proud t' obey, Proud to receive, and proud to give the nod, To his own morals fhapes his docile God 5 Yet his hard fate affeftedly deplores, And the fame moment, curfes and adores. But vain are words from Wifdom's felf addrelt, Terror, alone, can quell the brutal breaft ; In this rais'd arm, behold the wrathful flames, That plunge to hell your nature and your names, Endlefs yourifleep but dreadful be your dreams, ( io6 ) Not the foft fleep that on the nurfe's breaft, Smiles in its placid and unruffled reft, But haunted by defpair, and fear behind, Hurrying with torches thro' the night of mind. From torment, Tantalus ! for once fet free Lo ! P*** fhall refpite thy long mifery, O'er the fweet ftream in painful tranfport hung, Falfe as his heart, and fluent as his tongue ; Or fome fair cloud fhall plague his cheated fenfe, And tickle ftill th' eternal impotence. Coloflal Ruffia fhall unpity'd groan, Raifing, in vain, the fyfiphean ftone ; At once the mafs of nation thunders down, And grinds to duft the murd'refs and her crown. i Pruffia ! lye ftretch'd upon the burning wheel Of mad ambition and of favage zeal ; Th' imperial eagle rears his rebel creft, And turns his vengeance 'gainft the defpot's breafl \ Shakes the dark wing, and dips the beak in gore, And Holland croaks along the ftygian fhore. Down then to hell, whofe ftatue touch'd the fkies," Becaufe men knelt, and fhrunk to pigmy Make thy own Providence O ! Man- >uch'd the fkies,"! gmy fize > 1 and rife. J ( 1W ) PROLOGUE TO DOUGLAS, PERFORMED BY A PRIVATE COMPANY* BY THE SAME. Chill'd to the heart, expires the wafted year I hope December has no influence here No not one wint'ry vifage clouds the room, All breathes fweet Spring and Summer's choicefl: bloom From blifsful eyes the fparkling fpirits flow, And, the cheeks redden with a focial glow 5 No winter furely in fuch hearts can freeze, The will for pleafure, and the wifli to pleafe. In fuch a groupe, at fuch a happy hour, The wifh to pleafe, is more than half the pow'r : And I who only fuch a wifli can fhow, Come to announce a tale of pleafing woe ; ( ">8 ) Your taftcs refin'd, fuch pleafure better fuits Than Breflaw's ringers, or than Aftley's brutes, A tale, from which no heedleflhefs can roam, Which finds in ev'ry female heart a home ; Makes every mother, tremulous tho' bleft, Comprefs her child more clofely to her breaft. We boafl: our ignorance of fcenic art, To con a feeling or rehearfe a ftart ; To roll from Pit to Box the clock-work eye, Or lift both arms to ftorm the canvas fky ; Or at the Prompter's whifper, fink diftreft, Or beat upon that founding board the breaft. *This is to hold the mirror up to art ; To get by rote is not to get by heart ; " To get by heart" an honefl phrafe tho' plain, For what you do not feel O ! never hope to feign I O 'never hope to reach that art divine, Which moots a foul into each lifelefs line, Like the fam'd Dervife who with magic breath, Transfused himfelf at will, within the ribs of death. To feel what we exprefs is all our fcope And e'en our Heroine has no higher hope No ftratagem fhe lays, to catch a tear Her action artlefs, as her foul fincere ; ( *9 ) Her beft ambition, and her future blifs, To be what her delighted mother is ; Of a fweet flock, the guardian and the guide, And to her happy hufband flill a bride. {Going returns'-' I had forgot, before the year was gone, To give the blefling of old Ninety-One May all your lives in even current, flow ! For floods of pleafure, often ebb in woe, Your days Aide by, with foft and noifelefs wing Your winter ufher in perpetual fpring. ( } O N G. BY THE SAME. The girls I fee, in difFrent way, Are fram'd to yield delight ; With one, Fd fpend the fummer's day, With one, the winter's night. But her I feek who can difpenfe An uniform controul ; By night, fupply the feaft of fenfc, By day, the flow of foul, ( III ) L O U V E T'S HYMN TO DEATH, TRANSLATED. BY THE SAME. Oppressors of my native land ! In vain have I denounc'd your crimes- You conquer and at your command, I go to live in after times. Freedom ! my laft farewell receive The tyrant's ftroke 'tis bafe to fly, Our country loft, the flave may live ; Republicans must die. How bafe to grafp the golden hire, And ferve a more than favage zeal j Better, with dying France, expire; Better to brave yon lifted fleel. ( m ) Freedom ! to thee my life I give, This fteel elicits patriot fire : Difhonour'd flaves know how to live, But patriots to expire. O ye whom great example fires ! Take arms for liberty and laws : The player king, with kings confpires ; Crufh Collot crufh their curfed caufe. And you begot by murder upon fear, You trembling tyrant \ foon to meet your fall, Your Mountain quakes, O Robertfpierre ! And foon (hall bury all. But ah ! pofTeiTor of my heart \ Whom here I fee, yet dread to own, Now, play a more than female part, Now, learn to bear diflrefs alone. Freedom ! fhed comfort from above, To make her bear the yoke of life, O fpare the quick'ning pledge of love, The mother fave, if not the wife. My wife ! as mother, doubly dear, With care thy cradled child attend j And teach, to his attentive ear, His Father's glorious end j To Freedom's altar lead our boy ; To her high accents, tune his breath ; And let his firft, and lateft cry, tnA Be Liberty or Death. Should villains in thy time, grow great, And human blood in torrents flow j Seek not t' avenge thy Father's fate : For France, France, only, ftrike thy blow. Let future Syllas dread their doom, When my young Cato's frown they lee ; Or hear him, o'er his Father's tomb, Cry give me Death, or Liberty. Blood-hounds of France ! your race is run One Monfter welters in his gore Angelic Woman here has done, A deed which Brutus did before. Freedom ! lift thy arm fublime, Copy the fair Tyrannicide; Whofe virtue rofe to balance crime, And liv'd until Marat had died. 1 feel the preffing multitude \ I hear their wild, impatient cry ; How much it cods, to do them good ! Who lives for them, for them muft die. H ( "4 ) I go to meet the fond embrace, Of heroes long to hift'ry known, And Sydney on this head fhall place, A laurel from his own. Now take my eyes ! one ling'ring view, Then bid to Franpe, a long adieu. : - . ( s ) TO S * * * * S******** KOTZEBUE'S PLAYS. BY THE SAME. A muse that pleafes, without rule or art, The child of nature and an honeft heart, That fears on fancy's wings too far to roam, Rapt in the fweet concentred blifs of home : A foreign Mufe, tho' nothing faid, or fung, , To me feems foreign, fave the heartlefs tongue, Thy D****** fends his zeft for reading flown Ev'n tears feem felfifh when they're fhed alone. No voice to praife no darling Sarah near- No lip of love to catch the falling tear H 2 ( !** ) No neck inclining to the foft carefs No eye to gliften, and no hand to prefs No mouth to meditate the matron ldfs While the heart palpitates for namelefs blifs No figh for fomething future, unpoflefs'd, No fmile that fays be with the prefent blefs'd. If forrows double, -when we feel alone, And pleafure palls, if only felt by one ; If fympathy ftill makes the fufFring lefs, And, by dividing, adds to happinefs : If earth meets heav'n but by partaken blifs, And heav'n grows brighter heav'n when angels kifs Oh then, fweet Sarah haften to his arms, Who mares thy joys, will footh thy foft alarms, On whom thy trembling confidence may reft, That flutt'ring bird which beats within thy breaft, And fears, yet longs, to leave the parent neft. Oh ! come to him, who, in the hufband's name, Has father's, mother's, Mer's, brother's claim, And if 'tis duty that alone can move, The firfl: of duties is the law of love. The law that circumfcribes both earth and fides, Forms but a wedding ring of ampler fize, } ( H7 ) Where em'rald ftars and diamond funs combine, To grace a finger of the hand divine That law that ring my Sarah, makes thee mine. } Oh ! may our little ring, within the larger, found, , Share the fame fate, the fame immortal round, And if attachment e'er ihould lofe its force, Then, Nature, break thy ring, and keep the long divorce. ( iM ) TO S * * * # D # # # # # # 5 WITH A RING. BY THE SAME. "Emblem of happtnefs, not bought, nor fold, Accept this modcft Ring of virgin gold. Love, in the fmall, but perfect, circle, trace, And duty, in its foft, tho' ftridr. embrace. Plain, precious, pure, as beft becomes the wife j Yet firm to bear the frequent rubs of life. Connubial life difdains a fragile toy, Which ruft can tarnifh, or a touch deflroy ; Nor much admires, what courts the gen'ral gaze The dazzling diamond's meretricious blaze, That hides, with glare, the anguifh of a heart By nature hard, tho' poliih'd bright by art. ( ii9 ) More to thy tafte the ornament that fhows Domeftic blifs, and without glaring, glows. Whofe gentle preflure ferves to keep the mind To all correal, to one difcreetly kind. Of fimple elegance th' unconfcious charm, The holy amulet to keep from harm ; To guard at once and confecrate the fhrine, Take this dear pledge It makes, and keeps, thee MINE. ( 20 ) VERSES, BROOK OF BORROWDALE, IN CUMBERLAND. BY D***** S****** Adieu I ye rocks, and thou fwect vale, Where winds the brook of Borrowdale : With ling 5 ring fleps, and forrowing heart, From your fequefter'd fcenes I part. Adieu, fweet brook, with cryflal tide, Still o'er thy pebbled channel glide, And flowly pour thy ftream ferene, Thro' woody dells, and vallies green. Let other waters rudely fweep, The cliffs abrupt of yonder fleep ; From ufelefs noife acquire a name, And rife by violence to fame. ( m ) Thefe to furvey with idiot ftare, Let fafhion's wond'ring fons repair ; Admire the torrents of Lodore, So fteep the fall fo loud the roar And ring the naufeating chime, Of cliffs and cataracts fublime. Be thine fweet Brook an humbler fate Court not the honours that await, The rude, the violent, the proud, And fcorn the wonder of the crowd. Ye Naiads ! who delight to lave, Your lovely forms in this pure wave, Long o'er its peaceful banks prefide, And guard its inofFenfive tide, Left yon tall cliff, whofe fummit gray, E'en now o'erlooks its darken'd way, Should headlong rufh, with gath'ring force, And violate its tranquil courfe : Or, if fo undeferv'd a fate, Should e'er my lovely Brook await, With gentle hands its current lead, Along the flow'ry, fav'ring mead, And yield it to fome channel's care, With bed as fmooth, and banks as fair ; ( 122 ) Where, ftielter'd from the ruffling gale, The ftreams may fleal along the vale, And fafely reach th' enchanted ground, Which Kefwick's aweful hills furround. There, flowly winding, let them ftray, Along the fcarcely floping way, Till tir'd at laft, their current dead, They fink into their deflin'd bed ; And ftielter'd by yon flow'ry brake, Mix, filent, with the peaceful lake* Thefe bleflings, lovely Brook, be thine, Such be thy courfe and, Such be Mine.* ( "3 ) EPITAPH, ON AN # UNFORTUNATE LADY. BY THE SAME. A lingering ftruggle of misfortune paft, Here patient Virtue found repofe at lad : Unprais'd, unknown, -with cheerful fteps me flray'd Thro' life's bleak wilds, and fortune's darkeft made, Nor courted fame to lend one friendly ray, To gild the dark'ning horrors of the way. When fir'd with hope, or eager for applaufe, The hero fuffers in a public caufe ; Unfelt, unheeded, falls misfortune's dart, And fame's fweet echoes cheer the drooping heart. The patriot's toils immortal laurels yield And death, itfelf, is envy'd in the field. ( 124 ) Hers was the humbler yet feverer fate, To pine, unnotic'd, in a private Itate ; Hers were the fuff rings which no laurels brings The generous labours which no mufes fing, The cares that haunt the parent and the wife, And the Hill forrows of domeftic life. What, tho' no pageant, o'er her humble earth, Proclaim the empty honours of her birth ! What, tho' around no fcuiptur'd columns rife, No verfe records the conquefts of her eyes ! Yet here fhall flow the poor's unbidden tear, And feeble age fhall flied his bleffings here : Here, fhall the virtues which her foul pofTefs'd With fweet remembrance footh a hufband's breafl : And here, in filent grief, fhall oft repair, The helplefs objects of her latefl care, Recall her worth their adverfe fate bemoan, And, in a mother's woes forget their own. ( "5 ) V E R S E WRITTEN BY GEORGE ROBERT FITZ-GERALD, ESQ^ IN HIS DAUGHTERS PRAYER-BOOK. Accept it is your Father's gift, This Book of Common-Prayer, And when your eyes to heaven you lift, Well ponder who is there. There, there, is gone, angelic fhade, That Form which gave thee birth ; That Form, whofe love to us had made, A little heaven on earth. ( m ) Of thele bleft hours, ah ! me defpoil'd. Where can we hope relief; Oh ! what a lofs, to thee, my child, To me, how vaft a grief. Though loft, that Guide, ourfelves, tho* blind, Yet, ftill there is redrefs ; Since in this book we both may find, The road to happinefs. ( "7 ) OH NUTS BURNING, ALL-HALLOW-EVE. BY CHARLES GRAYDON, ESQ^ These glowing nuts are emblems true, Of what in human life we view ; The ill-match'd couple fret and fume, And thus, in ftrife, themfelves confume ; Or from each other wildly flart, And with a noife for ever part. But fee the happy happy pair, Of genuine love, and truth, fincere ; "With mutual fondnefs, while they burn, Still to each other kindly turn : And as the vital fparks decay, Together gently link away ; 'Till life's fierce ordeal being paft, Their mingled afhes reft at lafl. ( '28 ) HOPE. BY THE SAME. In the gloomy dungeon cave, Dark and difmal as the grave, See the wretched culprit there, All around is black defpair : Cheering Hope admits a ray, And it brightens into day. Floating on the waters wide, View the fhipwreak'd feaman ride, 'Midft the boift'rous billows roar, All in vain he looks for fhore : Gentle Hope extends her hand, Buoy'd by her, he reaches land. Stretch'd upon the fev'rifli bed, Pale difeafe reclines his head, ( 129 ) Grieved the foul, this earth to part, Lingers ftill within the heart : Hope, on airy pinions flies, And conducts it to the fkies. Chill'd with fcorn, the haplefs fwain, Sees a favour'd rival reign, Afks his miftrefs, for the laft, Hears his fentence plainly paft : Flatt'ring Hope, flill whifpers love, And the fair, may kinder prove. Far, the exile leaves his home, Doom'd, in foreign climes tp roam, Nor, are friends or kindred near, Torn from all his heart held dear : Fairy Hope, with fmiles attends, Gives him kindred, home, and friends. Hope, that lends the wretch relief, When 'tis falfe, but heightens grief, Hope, the mind's clofe order breaks, And a breach for phrenzy makes : Never mock me, Hope, I pray, Tell me truth, or keep away. ( 13 ) ON THTE BANKS OF THE LIFFEY, BY THE SAME. Sweet Liffey, whofe flxeam gently glides, And fteals in foft murmurs along; How oft have I rov'd on your fides, How cheerfully carol'd my fong. No grief, my young mind, then opprefs'd, No care my blithe heart ever knew j The calm of yon pool it poflefs'd Its clearnefs and purity too. Sweet Liffey, thy fcenes are the fame, The fame, is this green fhady wood ; Unalter'd the courfe of thy ftream, Yon ruins are ftill where they ftood. ( i3i ) But tell me, ah ! where are thofe friends, Whofe prefence endear'd ev'ry fpot ? Whofe image, ftill fancy attends, And forbids they mould e'er be forgot.. The monitors, fage of my youth, My playmates, fo artlefs and gay ; Sweet maids, the bright veftals of truth, Young, charming, and good, where are they ? Yes, cyprefs, low bow down thine head, Sad emblem that weeps o'er the urn, Too well, you denote how they're fled, And willow, with thee fhaU I mourn, I 2 ( *3* ) - OSSIAN'S LAST HYMN, VERSIFIED. BY THOMAS ROBERTSON, ESO^. Strike the lyre and ralfe the fong, Bear the mournful found along, Ye winds upon your fwifteft wings ; Bear it to mighty FingaPs ear, And to that king of men declare, That Ossian, aged Ossian, fings. The winds obey the pow'rful call, And wide difclofe his airy hall, I view the king a cloud his feat Heroes no longer dread his might, While dark and dreary fhades of night, Surround the monarch, once fo great. ( 33 ) Cm that be He? whom, whenarray'd In all the ti mpeft and the ftorm of war, The braveft fear'd, and fled difmay'd, Before the fury of his rapid car ? Or is that he, who oft in Cona's toVrs, When peace and all her bleflings he enjoy'd, Amid his chieftains, fpent the mirthful hours, The chace each day, the feaft each night empioy'd ; Where, on his well-ftrung harp, fome bard infpir'd, To tales of priftine valour, ftruck the chord ; The lift'ning heroes felt their bofoms fir'd, And rofe more valiant from the feftive board ? II. Thofe hours have fled Fingal is gone And I, of many fonS, alone, I, thus weak and old am left lake a tall oak, on Selma's heath, By winter's harfh unfriendly breath, Of all his verdant leaves bereft. Althon's no more ^and Ofcar's might, Refifllefs in the hour of fight, With red-hair'd Gaul, have join'd the band, Men of lefs fame to thefe fucceed, While Scandinavia's frozen breed, Bear flames and ruin through the land.- ( 134 ) Yet they have felt the vigour of this arm, And mourn'd its force and ftrength in bloody tears, When at the unexpected war's alarm, We dauntlefs met the fhock of hoftile fpears. As the brown torrent, from the mountain fide, Pours defolation o'er the peaceful plain, Sudden they came, in fierce embattled pride Dear was the treafon to the perjur'd Dane The gloom of battle, long, uncertain lower'd, And flow the dawn of vi&ory arofe To gild our enfigns, while we pour'd, A wide deftru&ion 'mong our yielding foes. Repuls'd, difpers'd, with coward hafte they fled, Urg'd by revenge and wrath, while we purfued. Full many a warrior on the fea fhore dead, With life's red flream the breaking waves imbrued. III. How vain the boaft no ftrength remains j No pow'r this feeble arm retains To wield the fword, and hurl the fpear And by rapacious time aggriev'd, Of youth, of every friend bereav'd, The portal of the tomb is near Nor fhrink I from the' dark abode, That dofes life's intricate road ; ( 35 | In fight impervious fhade, Tis theirs, on whom young health beftows. The bloom, and freihnefs, of the rofe, 'Tis theirs, to be of death afraid. No vain defire, of ling'ring here below, Reftrains me, thus opprefs'd with age and pain, While fad remembrance bids my forrows flow, And ev'n my harp denies its ufual ftrain. I long to haften to thofe friendly (hades, Reliev'd, by welcome death, from all my care, Where each, reclining on his cloud, proceeds, In folemn journey, thro' the lurid air. Then farewell life, thou lafting fource of grief, Where fleeting pleafures, endlefs troubles dwell.-r- Hafte thee, kind death, to bring thy wifli'd relief-^ Then, farewell life-^and thou, my harp, farewell. ( *3* ) TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND, DECEASED. BY THE SAME. J . , When thou art bleft, why fhou'd I mourn ? When thou art happy, why repine ? Tho' now within yon marble urn, All of thy precious form, that's mine, Thy aftxes reft ; while fheltering heav'n* Thy hallow'd fpirit long hath gain'd, By mortal woes from friendfhip driven, By mortal woes no longer pain'd Tho* flill, perhaps, thy gentle foul, May yet an earthly weaknefs know- Yield (till to pity's mild controul, And feel a throb for thofe below. Perhaps thy angel fhape abides, In yonder filver-fkirted cloud, Clofe where the moon her circuit rides* In folitary glory proud. ( 137 ) Or on the rofe-impurpled way, Where lately polling day did hafte, Doft thou with focial fpirits ftray, And hold difcourfe of troubles paft And while to earth the glances fly, Where forrowing friends do yet furvive, Dofl thou o'er them a bleffing figh ? I hear it in the gale of eve, I feel it wafting o'er my breaft, Peace to the heart, a calm divine. Why mould I mourn when thou art bleft ? When thou art happy, why repine ? ( 138 ) CHRISTMAS CAROL. BY THE SAME. . I. Now balmy zephyrs from us fly, To feek the gentler fouthern Iky ; Winds of the north their place aflume, And wrap the day in milt and gloom. Where late the fields were clothed in green, Now winter's fnowy robe is feen Then homewards hafte prepare thy cheer For Christmas comes but once a year. II. Let blazing fires, on every hearth, Illume the fmiling face of mirth, Let fprightly youth his gambols play, And age begin his ftories gay With plenty let the board be crown *d, But never, there, let room be found, For forrow part, or future fear, For Christmas comes but once a year. ( >39 ) III. And temperance, power of fteady foul ! Do thou deal forth the fober bowl, By cheerfulnefs to every gueft Which /he, fair Hebe of the feaft, Difpenfes round with modeft air, And open fmiles, unknown to care Thus, feflive, all be happy here, For Christmas comes but once a year. IV. Hence difcord, of confufion proud, Hie thee, on thy murky cloud Nor let one ruffling whifper fly, Over the fmooth-faced harmony Let joy and peace alone prevail There's time enough for forrow's gale. But now let all be fair and clear, For Christmas comes but once a year. V. Bleft feafon, of the annual clofe, Altho' arrayed in fleecy fnows, Thus, jocund, mould we pafs the hours Spring is the reign of fragrant flowers. Loofe Summer lends his cooling fhades, His fruits delicious, Autumn fpreads But Mirth to thee, alone is dear, For Christmas comes but once a year. ( HO ) REFLECTIONS BEGINNING OF THE YEAR, BY THE SAME. As one who feels his courage fhrink While on the river's verdant brink, He fees the wave dark gliding by- Unwilling yet the deep to try , Thus I, with mind o'ercaft by fear, Tremble at the coming year, And, in my anxious breaft revolve, What twelve fwift-paffing months fhall folve.- Perhaps thofe eyes with tears fhall lave, Luftration fad ! a parent's grave, This bofom yield the tribute figh, Where a loved brother's allies lie, Or ftretch'd above where friendfhip's laid, While wizard memory raife the dead, ( Hi ) To rapture, 'mong his viiions bleft, Give half the day, to grief the reft. Perhaps and may the alarming thought, To lab'ring virtue's aid be brought, 'Ere autumn's yellow leaves are fhed, I mail be number'd with the dead, Submiflive, yield this earthly frame, To death's refiftlefs regal claim. r Thus, melancholy, thoughtful, flow* O'er trails of ftep-incumb'ring fnow, I reach the year's ice-pillar'd gates, Where reftlefs time impatient waits, With waving pinions ftretch'd to fly, Youth fpread before, with rofy dye, His cheeks and limbs while Age unkind, Blafted his wither'd form behind. And leaning on his fcythed fpear, He faw, he mock'd, my idle fear. " Why doft thou grieve, vain child of clay ! " That mortal man, muft know decay ? By my protrufive force depreft, " Lodg'd on the earth's damp chilly breaft ; My power, alas ! is too confin'd, " My arm can't reach th' immortal mind ; " And thou, and thine, fhall yet revive, " To endlefs joy awake alive, When I ." ( '42 ) More he had faid, but Hope, afide, Threw the feafon's portals wide. On his broad wing, he fprang aloft, And thro' the air he mov'd fo foft, That not a flutter, whifper weak, Could guide a foe his courfe to check.- Confoling power ! with winning fmiles, She fmooths my brow from former ills,' With orient colours' limns the fkies Points where her Eden profpe&s rile, Then, her blue robe fuccincl for fpeed, Thro' fpring's domains my courfe (he led, And, as we pafs'd, thefe words expreft " Heav'n's will is all that will is befl: " Would'ft thou for every change prepare, Let virtue be thy choice, thy care." ; ( '43 > HEALTH. BY THE SAMfe. Health, rofy nymph, the pleafing boon Of happinefs thou can'ft beftow Without thee, life's beft journey fooji Becomes a pilgrimage of woe. Shunning the palace, did'fl thou dwell With (lav'ry in his gloomy cell j More bleft the captive in the mine, Than he for whom the metals mine. But no thy haunt cannot be there, Th' abode of pining mifery, Where the fad bofom of defpair Heaves with unpity*d agony. ( J 44 ) Nor, wanton, dolt thou love to fport, In pleafure's gay delufive court Over the gem-imbofTed vafe, To fmile in Bacchus' ruddy face. Thou fly'fl th' intoxicating bowl, Fountain of madnefs and difeafe, Whofe wild and abfolute controul, The vanquifh'd reafon fways. Thou fhun'ft the fragrant myrtle groves, Which the paphian Venus loves Where, while Pan pipes a roundelay, Th' unblufhing nymphs and fatyrs play. Ah ! modeft health, from fcenes like thefe, Thou turn'ft thy fteps afide, to hafte And catch the balmy morning breeze, Its fpirit-giving breath to tafte ; Where bath'd in dew fbme valley lies, Or up a mountain's woody rife Whence flretching to the^eaftern fky, Bright rural profpetts greet the eye. < HS ) Here, a deep foreft widely fpread, Its variegated foliage fliows, There, rolling thro' a flowery mead, With rapid courfe, a river flows. On to the fea where meets the view Thro' opening hills its bofom blue, Save when a white-fail flies the gale before, Or a wave breaks upon the rocky fhore. And, as thou darts thy looks around, O'er the lively landfcape fmiling, More blithe the plowman's carols found, His tedious furrow'd way beguiling.^- More fweet the birds their fongs renew, More frefh each blooming flowret's hue From every valley fprings, without alloy, A general cheerfulnefs a burfl: of joy.. ( 14* ) ADDRESS TO A PLANET. BY THE SAME. Why rifeft thou, fair star, fo bright, Rival of Cynthia's filver beams, While round thee of the pureft light, An undulating glory flreams ? Say, what radiant cherub there, Abides in thy refplendent fphere, Thence on this world to fhed companion's tear Or doth his vifage Anger's crimfon wear ? And from the trump, denouncing woe, Gives he a devaftating blaft, Such as th' angelic prince mall blow, When Time his utmoft bound has part When Death bereav'd his ancient fway, Shall thruft his vaflals into day, And, eager, finking to his laft repofe, The tomb, for ever, on himfelf fhall clofe. ( '47 ) Hark ! hark ! the dire terrific found Thro' wide-extended fpace pervades, Earth trembles in her deeps profound, And fear the boldeft heart invades Rejoic'd the awful call to hear, War, burnifhing his rufted fpear, Rufties exulting forth in mad difdain, To flain with gore th' uncultivated plain. Again it founds ! the vernal gale, In falutary breath denies, Life's vegetable nurfes fail, And Famine's pallid demons rife. Impatient Hunger, raving wild, Who feeds the parent with the child, Relentlefs Want, whofe eyes fo madly bend, Snatching the morfel from his fainting friend. And, tott'ring 'mong the ghaftly crew, Difeafe brings on his languid frame, Before him fades health's rofy hue, Mirth droops and pleafure is a dream. While next, to heap the cup of woe, 'Till o'er the brim the forrows flow, Sedition runs, the fpring of mad defires, And lights, on ev'ry hill, her fignal fires. K 2 ( h8 y Seduced by the uncertain glare, As travellers by the meteor's ray, Prudence refigns her modeft air, And leaves her inoiFenfive way : Opinions ftrange, 'till now unknown, Among the humble crowd are thrown, Truth is perverted, innocence abufed, Juftice retrained, and right and wrong confufed. But wherefore trace the fource of woe, From yonder night-illuming plains? Afide the lyre prefumptuous throw, Vain bard, and ceafe the idle ftrain, From thence nor grief, nor forrow came, Death fhuns yon planet's bright extreme- No inmate he for realms of pure delight, Climes ever fmiling with unclouded light. There, refting on unfading flowers, Souls of celeftial mould repofe, Who againft Sin's fedu&ive powers, Unyielding Virtue did oppofe. And now they've part the toilfome way, Pure and unchanged from Life's aflay, While feraphs hymn around immortal airs, Oblivious founds of fublunary cares. ( M9 )} Prelude divine to endlefs joy, Fit opening to celeftial fcenes, Of happinefs which ne'er can cloy, Of glory which eternal reigns, When th' unembarrafs'd mind mail fee Truth's beauties, from concealment free, Purfue her courfe thro' Science' boundlefs wave, And in the golden current ceafelefs lave, Thus Fancy cheers the weary foul, Difclofing bright etherial views, While life's rough path, fuch her controul, Without a murmur man purfues. So cheerful o'er the mountain's arid brow The pilgrim toils, when feen the vale below, Where, 'mid her fields and ftreams, Damafcus lies, In groves embower'd, an earthly paradife. ( *5<> f VERNAL STANZAS. BY THE SAME. - - Seek other climes, ye gloomy hours> To your unkindly prefence fuited, Where delpotic winter lowers, On lavage rocks, and men embruted. " Where, on the rough and craggy ledge* That hangs above his cavern narrow, The north-wind whets to keeneft edge, And fharpeft point, his icey arrow."- The gloomy hours obey, they fly, To Siberia's wilds of anguifh, Where thofe bereft their native fky, Amid imprifoning deferts, languish. C 151 ) Lo ! fpring from Cafhmire's happy vale, The bower of joy, her conftant dwelling, Sends forth her animating gale, The wintry fleep of earth difpelling. Cheer'd by the whifpers of the fouth, The rofy flowers- fteal into day, While in the groves the plumy youth, With fongs falute the budding fpray. Now is the time, when rapture's wing, Exalts the hallow'd thought to heaven, When is beheld, the breath of fpring, Purpling the glowing cheek of even. When feen the diftant mountain's brow, With the fun's weflern luftre beamings While fhadows veil his bafe below, Save where a lingering ray, is gleaming, From the grey rock, that hangs above, The azure lake in mifts repofing ; And when the eyes delighted rove, The mid-lands verdant fcene, difclofing. C *S* ) The wheat's green robe, between his hedge Aufpice of life, fecurely waving The groves, which yonder meadows edge, Whofe fhades, the brawling brook is leaving, To murmur at the pebbled foot, Of this foft bank, with violets fpread, To cool this red-pine's thirfty root, And branch him for the victor's head. Bleft rural fcenes, yours is the art, To pour delight around the foul, To heal the wounds that reach the heart, From fortune's mutable contronl. Ye, on the captive's mind imprefi, Delicious vifions/can'ft fupply Cheer'd by th' intellectual feaft, He lives upon your memory. ( i'53 ) ' THE POST-BAG, OR, A CONFERENCE BETWEEN A DEPUTY POST-MASTER AND THE GENERAL POST-OFFICE, BY R****** S*********. |>OST-MA3TER. / The Post-bag now fent, Is, very much rent, ... And not fit to carry a letter ; Then hear our petition, Behold its condition, And fend us by next poft a better. POST-OFFICE. Beft of Post-masters, Frequent difafters, And various, have happen'd the mail. . ( 54 ) Yet when you think meet, In verfes to greet, Your petition, we'll warrant, fha'nt fail. Esteemed good friend, With this mail we fend, A LEATHERN CONVENIENCE feCUre, Your cogent defire And poetick fire, Well pleafes us all, we aflure., POST-MASTER. When oft in plain profe, I repeated my woes, Lamenting my post bag's poor ftate j Difregarded by all, I talk'd to the wall, And nobody minded my prate* At long lafl thought l % I will certainly try What effecl: by a rhyme can be wrought, My fuit was ftraight granted, I got -what I wanted, In a wholb skin my letters fafe brought. ( *55 ) No wonder that we, Poft-mafters agree, So nicely in point of good tafte, Since Hermes, we're told, Jove's Envoy of old, Prefided o'er Wit and Poft-haite. And now that I've found Poetical ground, Is the ftand to procure your good grace, Pray once more befriend me, Some fealing-wax fend me, A perquifite due to my place. A place without penfion Oh ! fhocking to mention, Did Clermont, our Matter, but know it, Or if I could pleafe, My worthy friend, Lees, They, fure, would not ftarve a poor Poet. Let none fay my rhyme Is quite out of time, A good thing is ne'er out of feafon, As all trades mud live, A fmall falary give, And, for my rhyme, let me have reafbn. ( *5$ ) POST-OFFICE. Moft worthy, good friend, Though our wifhes do tend, To grant you your full expeaation, Nor verfes, nor profe, Can influence thofe, Who guide the purfe firings of the nation* We fend you the wax, On the Office a tax, That's granted by juftice and reafoai But as for the penfion, Though good our intention, At this time 'tis quite out of feafon. Then thrive by your trade, It will never degrade, As a penfion does thofe that bellow ft, Content will attend you, And virtue befriend you, Nor poverty reach the good Poet, POST-MASTER. For the fealing wax fent, And your wifhes well meant, My grateful acknowledgments take ; ( 157 ) Sure politenefs and wit, In your Poft-offke fit, And there their chief refidence make. In thefe felfifh times, By the magic of rhymes, To loofe purfe-ftrings, I own, would be hard ; What though Orpheus could lead Stocks and flones, we don't read That money, too, follow'd the Bard. Contented, therefore, I'll teafe you no more, Tis pity to fpur a free horfe, I'll take what I've got, Submit to my lot, And fo practice patience, perforce. And now, my good friends, My fimple mufe ends, With kind valedi&ion to you ; And left (he fhould tire With too much of her lyre, She bids, for the prefent, adieu. ( 5* ) "I LOVE TO BE ALONE." BY THE SAME. While bufy mortals crowd around The city, court and throne, Intent to fee and to be feen, To know and to be known ; I turn away, content I turn, To fweet, domeflic bow'rs, And ponder how I beft may fpend My life's few, fleeting hours : The twinkling twilight oft I trace. Sometimes the dufky dawn, My fteps unfeen by human race I LOVE TO BE ALONE. Yet fure, my thoughtful, muflng mind, The focial tranfport knows i Round many a friend, thefe opening arms, With extacy would clofe : ( t$ 9 ) SuTe I would leave my couch by night, To ferve my greatefl foe, Would quit the brighteft hour of joy, To wipe the tear of woe > 'Tis giddy, trifling, vain parade, My heart and mind difown, The endlefs buzz by folly made I LOVE TO BE ALONE. Yet not averfe, when duty calls, I leave my quiet fphere, And mingle in the walks of men The walks of men are dear ! I love the intellectual feaft, Shar'd with the good and wife, Nor lefs the little, temperate meal, Simplicity fupplies ; I freely join the ruftic throng, Licentious fcenes unknown, With children play but e'er its long, I LOVE TO BE ALONE. But ah ! while Sorrow's mingled cries, Through earth's far vales refound, The ear of penfive Fancy tries To catch the piercing found, ' ( !<*>') Her willful eye furveys the fliores, Where fable lovers part, His trembling limbs fell iron tears, And anguifh breaks her heart. Oh ! could I aid this injur'd Race, I'd feek their flaming Zone, . The White and Sable Tyrants face, Nor wifh to be alone. And oh ! for fweet fincerity, The penfive mufe fhall guide, I feel the lonely lot of man, Has happinefs denied j Unblefs'd is he that wanders o'er The vary'd plains of time, Without a kind and faithful maid, Companion of his prime Good natur'd, faithful, land and fair, Was fuch a maid my own ! Better with her, my lot to ftiare, Than live and die alone. ( t6i ) RUN BY A LADY. Retir'd and fecluded from all that could pleafe, I court a retreat in the depth of the grove ; More grateful the murmurs that figh on the trees, Than the gentle vibrations of gladnefs and love. / The voice of my friend, more delicious than wine, . That lately the full-tide of pleafure convey'd, Ah ! I turn from the found, his embraces decline, And beg that he'd leave me to die in the fliade. The mufes that once could illume the dull hour, And footh with their numbers the bofom of pain ; Now fly my fad haunts, fince, depriv'd of their power, Their melody wounds, and their numbers are vain. Her lilies are fled, and the delicate rofe, On the cheek of Aruna, blooms lovely no more : This grafs-matted pillow denies me repofe, "Where fweetly I flept in the fummers of yore. L ( fc ) The rocks of the defert, rude, awful and high, Seem nodding, with horror, to me as I go : The wild-gufhing ftreams, that run rapidly by, In fympathy fwell their loud cadence of woe : Thick clouds from the fummits of mountains I view, Hang darkly benighting the fides of the vale : The raven's dull bodings are heard from the yew, And the fpirit of forrow I hear in the gale. Thus, .while through each province of nature I turn, Her face feems unlovely wherever I go, I look not for comfort 'till in my cold urn Ah ! well that we there find a refpite from woe. Her lilies are fled, and the delicate rofe, On the cheek of Aruna, blooms lovely no more ; In the cold arms of death, all the graces repofe, And ocean's fait waves wafh her tomb on the more. 'Twas night, and the ftars and mild Luna were fled, When as penfive I liften'd the voice of the gale ; Through a dim gleam of light that encompafled my bed, The made of Aruna rofc filent and pale: How chang'd from the maiden once blooming and fair, The pride of the village, the joy of the plain ! Now mournful her ftep, and dejecled her air, And languid her look, as the moon in her wain *, ( i*3 ) Her hair was difhevell'd and dripping with dew, Her head it hung down like a flow'ret that dies ; Her robe it was damp, and her lips they were blue, And funk was the luftre that lighten'd her eyes . Her lilies were fled, and the delicate rofe, On the cheek ofmy fair-one, bloom'd lovely no more j ) frill my emotions, her right hand arofe, Her left was collecting the robe that fhe wore. " Dear youth," fhe began, K thou remembers the day " When warm on my bofom thou wept our adieu, " 'Twas the foft voice of friendfhip that call'd me away, While far from the fhores thy kind glances purfue: " Now brews the black ftorm in the fides of the weft, " And loud on the wild winds comes howling along, " Each hill (hook the foreft that rofe on its bread, " And loft was the wood-lark's mellifluent fong : " But wide o'er the ocean more vehement the blaft " The winds rufhing downward its bofom deform, " Like mountains bent onward the huge breakers pafs'd, " And death rode in fury the wings of the ftorm : " Thou ufed to compare my poor cheeks to the rofe, " But the rofe and the lily are blended no more ; Down the fteep-llanting furges our flout veflel goes, " And high, o'er thy damfel, the loud billows roar j I. 2 ( i*4 ) Beneath the deep waters our veffel was torn, f* Through a rent in the fide my poor corpfe found its way ; " To the fhore in wild eddies 'twas rapidly borne, " And found by fome fwains on the beech where it layj " On the brink of the ocean they made me my grave, " The virgins, with tears, bid my relics adieu" She ceas'd but how moving the look that fhe gave, As wiftful and wan from my chamber fhe drew ! Dear, lovely, fad, maiden remov'd in thy bloom, E'erHymen's light wings on our palfion were fpread Ah, gentle companion, too good for the tomb ! How dark, and how cold, and how filent's, thy bed ! Her lilies are fled, and the delicate rofe, On the cheek of Aruna, blooms lovely no more ; No parent averfe to our love was the caufe, No broken engagement, like Colin's of yore. Stern tempeft ! ah why didfl thou rife from the caves, And pour all thy wrath on a virgin fo fair ? Proud ocean ! thou might have retrained thy waves, And, for once, made a virtuous maiden thy care. Now in thefe wild defer ts, dejecled and lone, The thought of Aruna (till faddens my ftrain ; With the chill blaft of evening I mingle my moan, Till death more indulgent unites us again. < i*5 ) And now, ye fair virgins, that live in the vale, When the turf on our afhes grows level and green ; Commit to your children our forrowful tale, And filent and fad will your daughters be feen. Her lilies are fled, and the fweet damafk rofe, On the cheek of Aruna, blooms lovely no more ; Ye virgins ! adieu, drop a tear on our woes, And lay me, ye fwains ! by my love on the fhore. ( Ite ) WRITTEN IN A BOWER. BY THE SAME. Dear lovely bower, to-morrow morn, From thee I hafte away, Say, will the fun with finiles adorn That melancholy day ? Ah ! yes, the fun as bright will mine, The flowers as gayly blow ; Nought but this haplefs heart of mine, "Will wear the gloom of woe.. How quickly am I forc'd to hafte From fcenes fo fair and new ! Thy charms I jufl began to tafle Sweet Abbeville, adieu ! What though to me more lovely vales, And fweeter fhades are given ; A pang the parting fpirit feels, Though leaving earth for heaven. ( i*7 ) THE WIDOW. BY THE SAME. Nine days the mortal wound thou bore, And death with nature drove ; And I was on this diftant fhore, Thou hufband of my love ! Denied, to me, each facred rite Of mourning love to pay, Denied, to me, the laft fad fight Oh ! thou wert far away. "Why was the youth, I held fo dear, With every beauty bleft ? And why fuch ties of truth iincere Attach him to my breaft ? That fated day why did we prize, Which faw our hands unite ? Unthinking love no cloud defcries In fortune's glaring light. ( 1*8 ) And why did war, her voice abhorr'd, Lift in our peaceful land ? And why did he, my wedded lord, Mix with the martial band ? Why did he truft, the promife vain, That he mould here abide ; Should ftay to guard his native plain, And guard his helplefs bride ? O you ! who honour's juft demand So flightly can forego, Who tear him from his native land, Ye fhall not part us fb. With many a weary ftep I moved, Diilrefs my bofom tore, And now, a mother's throes I proved, And now, a babe I bore. Patient for thee, my infant mild, I bore a mother's throes ; But thou hall coft me, haplefs child ! Severer pangs than thofe. ( i*9 ) And is not yet our journey done, Though Britain's ifle we greet ? My lucklefs lord ! a burning fun Mull on thy temples beat. Yon vefTel bound for Indian lands, Invokes the favouring wind Then go, where rigorous fate commands ; I will not Hay behind. With thee I'll tempt the ocean drear, And every dangerous way ; This fmiling babe our toils fhall cheer, And hope fhall be our flay : And, when the battle rages loud, My prayers fhall louder be ; I'll watch thee midft the furious crowd, I'll tend and cherifh thee. But fee ! the war-fteeFd chiefs appear, Their purpofe dire to tell, And from the father's breaft to tear, All that he lov'd fo well. ( *7 ) O thou, who did this doom approve, Ye mothers, all depart ! Connubial or paternal love Ne'er warm'd thy favage heart ; Elfe had that general cry of pain Relax'd thy ftubborn will Keen anguim feiz'd my throbbing brain, I feel, I feel it ffill. My babe ! When every fond delay Of lingering love was o'er, How light did all the forrows weigh, Thy mother felt before ! Now high in air the ftreamer flows, The fails their bofoms fwell, While, to the hufband of my vows, I breath'd a laft farewell : And take," he cried, " thefe garments fair Thefe fhall thy wants fupply : " Thy widow'd fpoufe has now no care " To pleafe thy partial eye. ( m ) And take this watch, of filver fine, " My joyous hours are paft, " When want (hall feize each gift of mine, Refign this gift the laft." Ye pitying maidens, Mening round, I fee your cheeks grow pale ; Your gentle breafts why mould I wound, With fuch a mournful tale ? Ne'er may your tender frames endure The hardihips which I proved ; Cold, hungry, feeble, faint, and poor, And far from him I lovM, Oh ! ne'er may yours thefe tortures own, Which oft my bofom dried, While, anfwering to its mother's moan. My trembling infant cried ! But fortune now with tranfient fmile, As wearied with my harms, Reftores me to my native ifle, And to my kindred's arms. ( '7* ) How fhort the calm ! now rumour flics Swift from the hoftile plain, And rumour tells my hufband lies, Lies, mingled with the flain. Yet o'er the clouds, which death portend, Deceitful comfort ftole ; And hope, the wretch's latefl friend, Upheld my finking foul. For fure I thought, that free from (lain, A guiltlefs life I led, And pitying heaven would ceafe to rain Such forrows on my head. At leaft, oh ! grant me flrength to bear My mifery now complete I heard the truth I lived to hear, And reafon kept her feat. It was that fatal day of blood, On Coromandel's coaft, When Cuddalore the force withftood Of Britain's warlike hoft ; ( '73 ) That ruthlefs war permiflion found To make my lord her prey He languilh'd with his mortal wound, And I was far away. In thofe dark hours my tender cares Might haply have prevail'd, And faithful love, with ardent prayers, Had mercy's gate aflail'd. That precious flood of ftreaming gore, My duteous hands had dried, And, friendlefs, on that burning fhore, My hufband had not died. No wonder now my fongs are fad, And tears inceflant flow j This heart muft never more be glad, 'Tis wedded now to woe. Had he, I loved, unfaithful been, And given my vows away ; I could have borne that anguifh keen, And for his fafety pray. ( 174 ) Oft, in my dreams, his image dear Returns upon my fight I wake to pour the lonely tear, And ficken at the light. Oh ! fure my fainting heart had died, But mercy fweet I found, And He the healing balm applied, Whofe power ordain'd the wound. He, gracious Father, firmed friend, Beheld a widow's moan ; And taught me comfort's dews defcend From Him, and Him, alone. The widow ceas'd my Nancy dear Indulgent pity fway'd ; And to her Mary's liflening ear, The mournful tale convey'd. Thou gave the fubject to my mufe, To thee fhe gives the ftrain ; And never may our hearts refufe, To fhare another's pain ! ( 175 ) THE * BLACKBIRD AT CABIN-HILL, TO M. M * # # #, BY W****** D******. The hermit bird, with yellow bill, And plumes of darkeft hue ; In his lov'd haunt of Cabin-Hill, Prepares the note for you. Sweet note ! that link'd to rural charms, The heart to nature draws ; Sufpended the vain world's alarms, In its melodious paufe ! * The foregoing Lines, came too late to be inferted with the other, beautiful, Productions of their ingenious Author ; no reader will regret their admirTion in this place. ( it* ) '< I court the filence of retreat, " Conceal'd in thickeft wood ; " More ftrongly love, and fing more fweet, " From fenfe of folitude. " Acrofs the garden walk I fpring, " So focial yet fo fhy ; And the quick fhudder of the wing, " Now tells my inward joy. " My welcome to the morning light, " Shall foon be heard by thee : " And at the fall of dewy night, * My Hymn to Liberty. " O for one burft of noble rage, " Which tyrants might appal ; That Birds and Men could break their cage, " And live, at Nature's call ! " Th' imprifon'd man, th' imprifon'd Note, " In fad efFedr. combin'd ; * All tunelefs grows the vocal throat, And Mufic of the Mind. ( 177 ) " But wood-notes wild I carelefs fling, " Attach the virtuous ear : " They harbinger the warmth of fpring ; " They wake the torpid year. " On them, the penfive pleafures hang, " When other fongfters clofe : And e'en o'er mem'ry's fharpeft pang, " A foft oblivion throws. " Departed worth fhall mix and blend, " "With ev'ry tender tone ; li And fcenes that call the buried friend, " Shall feem again his own. "Thy ev'ning life, of widow'd hue, " May yet be fancy-bleft < ( Return 'tis time to build anew, " Our long abandon'd neft." a ( 7 ) PROLOGUE INTENDED TO BE SPOKEN BY LITTLE PARKER. BY J**** B****, ESQ^ With favours rais'd, with gratitude oppreft, What mix'd emotions fwell my throbbing bread: ; I fee the beauteous and the brave appear, The dawning hopes of Infancy to cheer : But lifping accents of a Childifh tongue, The warm emotions of the bofbm wrong, Where words are weak, my feelings to pour tray, Spare me and think what gratitude would fay. Behold the hand that raifes from the ground, Suftains with moiflure and enclofes round Some tender plant, that fhrinks beneath the blaft, Relentlefs howling o'er the dreary wafte, ( 179 ) With fond folicitude its growth attends From heating rain, from nipping froft defends, And bids its growth purfue the circling year, And fpread a tree, and flow'rs, and fruitage bear ; Not to the tree, but cultivating aid, Muft we refer the flow'r, the fruit, the fhade. Within the marble block a ftatue lies, When fair to view the juft proportions rife ; The fculptor claims the merit for his own, Who call'd the breathing figure from the flone. Amid the various walks of focial life, Where virtue's palm awakes a gen'rous ftrife, 'Midfl the diverging paths that fcience fpreads, While genius to the fhrine of honour leads ; Should early culture with a plaflic hand, To manly growth my little pow'rs expand, And bid them glad the fond parental hearts, With lib'ral ftudies, or with ufeful arts ; Bid the foft buds of infancy difplay Their hopeful promife to the rifing day, My friends fhall mark them, with an eye benign, And each, in fecret, fay this work was mine. ( **6 ) PARODY ON OTHELLO'S ACCOUNT OF HTS COURTSHIP. BY WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ^ Her father lov'd me oft got drunk with me, Captain, he'd cry, come tell us your adventures, From year to year, the fcrapes, intrigues, and frolics, That you've been verfed in. I ran them thro' from the day I firft wore fcarlet, To the very hour I tailed firft his claret. Wherein I fpoke of moll difaftrous chances, In my amours with widow, maid, and wife ; Of hair breadth 'fcapes from drunken frays in bagnios, Of being taken by the infolent foe, and lodg'd in the watch-houfe, Of my redemption thence, with all my gallantry at country quarters ; W T hen of rope-ladders and of garret-windows, Of fcaling garden-walls, lying hid in clofets, It was my hint to fpeak, for I love bragging, And of the gamblers, that each other cheat, ( i8i : )) The pawn-brokers that prey on needy foldiers, When fword or waiflcoat's dipt. All thefe to hear, His daughter Prue would from a corner lean, But flill to flrain the milk, or fkim the cream, Was call'd to the .dairy, A Which when fhe'd done, and cleanly lick'd the fpoon, She'd come again, and fit, with gaping mouth, And flaring eyes, devouring my difcourfe. Which I foon fmoaking, Once kneel'd by her in church, and entertain'd her, With a full hiflory of my adventures, Of fights in countries where I ne'er had been, And of amours with thofe I never faw ; And often made her flare, with flupid wonder, When I did talk of leaping from a window, Or lying hid on tefler of a bed. She gave me, for my pains, a gloting look ; She fwore, ecod, 'twas flrange, 'twas woundy flrange; 'Twas comical, 'twas hugely comical ; " I fags, you officers are wicked creatures," She'd be afraid of me, me vow'd " and yet, " You are fo comical and entertaining ; " Well, I declare, of all the men on earth, " I like a foldier."-r-on the hint I fpoke. She lov'd me, for the fex loves wicked fellows, And I lov'd her, to get her father's money. ( IW ) BALLAD TALE FROM OSSIAN. BY THE SAME. I. Fair Moina fat on Tara's height, To watch for him fhe lov'd, When gloomy Dermid came in fight ; Like thunder clouds he mov'd. II. Slow finding o'er the heath he came ; And hum'd a fullen fong ; His fhield, that fhot a crimfom gleam, Was o'er his lhoulder flung. III. Thine, Dermid, was the heart of pride, Relentlefs as the grave, Thine love, that never foftly figh'd, The fpirit fiercely brave. ( i3 ) IV. To fly, the affrighted maiden ftrove, But he arrefts her flight. " Here, Moina, hear me plead my love, " Thou art my foul's delight. >* V. Along the hill, along the plain, My dogs, my arrows flew ; Three flags, with branchy horns, lie (lain ; One flag, for thee, I flew. VI. To love the chafe, I'll teach my fair, " My dogs her voice fhall know, To mark the flying game from far, '< And bend the unerring bow. VII. " Together will we rove the dale, " Together climb the hill, " Together reft in (hadow'd vale t *" Or fleep by murmuring rill. VIII, " Ne'er may I pierce my foes from far, " The tide of (laughter roll, But thou than all the pomp of war, " Art dearer to my foul. ; -i ' - oT j ( *84 } IX. " Thy voice more fires my heart with jo^, " Than bards applauding fongs ; " Thy charms are dearer to mine eye, ^isH " Than fpoils of conquer'd throngs. X. The fpoils of war, within my wall u Are pil'd, a precious ftore ; " And foes on foes fhall daily fall, To make the treafure more." XI. " Are frowns," the blufhing maid reply'd, " Are frowns the garb of love ? " Can ftormy words and gloomy pride " The female bofom move ? XII. " No love muft wanton in the eyes, u In every feature fmile, " With whifpers foft, and melting fighs, i( The yielding heart beguile." XIII. u Like babes, that cry fome toy to gain, " Let filken courtiers fue ; " Let ftriplings fmooth defcribe their pain> " But like a man I woo. ( i 5 ) XIV. Mine arms are ftrong, to guard my dear, As blafts that rend the wood ; " Mine arm has taught the brave to fear, " To earth the proudeft bow'd. XV. Young Ronan late its fury found ; M The boaftive youth I flew : " 'Twas when the mirthful bowl went round, " On me the taunt he threw. XVI. " On me the fcornful glance he toft, And mock'd me at the feaft ; But fhort-liv'd was the empty boaft ; This fword went thro' his breaft. XVII. The youth was bred on Ullin's plain ; " His hair like funbeams flow'd : *' For him the mddens figh'd in vain ; His foul was brave and proud." XVIII. " Now cur ft be that detefted land, " That faw my Ronan bleed ! " And doubly curft thy guilty hand, < That wrought the favage deed ! ( i8<5 ) XIX. Ah ! where is now the gallant youth, ** UnrivalTd in the chace, " The mind replete with worth and truth, " The form with every grace ? XX. *< If grief would e'er thy foul pervade, " Or pity fill thy breafl, " Refufe not to the wretch thou'ft made, One laft, one poor requeft. XXI. Give me the fw<5rd, on yon curfl plains * That flew mine only dear ; " I'll wafh away its guilty ftains, With many a bitter tear." XXII. He gave the weapon to her tears, She pierced his manly breafl. He fell, as finks a tow'r, by years Or raging ftorms opprefl. xxm. <* The fword is cold, revengeful maid, " Within my aching breafl ; " My head is wrapt in death's dark made, " I foon mail fmk to reft. ( i-7 ) XXIV. Death's chilly damps my limbs o'erflow, " I feel his icy pow'r ; One laft embrace, my fair bellow, u To footh my parting hour. XXV. Tho', Moina, from thy cruel hate, " I meet the untimely doom ; " One faithful maid will mourn my fate, Will weep around my tomb. XXVI. " Tho' I defpis'd her charms, for thee, M And pierc'd her foul with woe ; u Yet heav'd fhall be her fighs, for me, " For me her tears (hall flow." XXVII. With doubtful ftep, and flow, ftie went ; And fore Ihe wept and figh'd. An arrow thro' her breaft he fent ; And grimly fmiling dy'd. XXVIII. Together ftretch'd in death they lie, Together fill the tomb : Their faintly fcreaming fpirits fly, Along the midnight gloom. ( 188 > , XXIX. Oft, fome belated hunter laid, Beneath the mofs-grown trees, Beholds each difembody'd fhade> Dim flitting on the breeze. . ' ( i*9 ) BALLAD II. EDITH. BY THE SAME. I. The fun was fank, the fight was done, That many a head laid low , The Briton curfl the failing fun, That fav'd the fainting foe. II. When tranfport flafh'd in every eye, And every bofom thrill 'd, Nor fill'd was Edith's eye with joy, Nor Edith's bofom fill'd. III. The triumph, how could fbe enjoy That Edwin did not fhare ; Or how could tranfport fire her eye, That found not Edwin near ? ( 19 ) IV. Each wife furvey'd her warrior's fears, With pleas'd, yet fearful eyes ; While, Edith ! thine were bitter tears, Thine, agonizing fighs. V. O'er fever'd limbs, and mangled dead, Her frantic courfe fhe bends ; While, here and there, beneath the fhade, A dying groan afcends. VI. , Arife ! arife ! fair queen of night! " In all thy penfive charms, " Give Edwin to my longing fight, " And to my longing arms. VII. And thou, bright ftar, to love and truth, That lend'fl thy nightly aid, " To guide the fond enamour'd youth, " And light the timorous maid. VIII. " Ah ! now to guide my frantic way, " Bright ftar of Venus rife ; " Ah ! tell me, in thy brighteft ray, t( Where Edwin weltering lies ? ( 191 ) IX. No Leech, his throbbing wounds to tend ; And hard his earthy bed ; While cold the dews of night defcend, Around his fainting head. X. All grim, with wounds, his comely frame, " Perhaps, my foldier, lies ; And calls on wretched Edith's name, With groans and feeble cries. XL " Oh 1 Edwin, Edwin, doll thou live, Amidft this heap of flain ? " Thy Edith would thy pangs relieve, " And fmooth thine hour of pain. XII. " I'd freely rend my flowing hair, " Thy gaping wounds to bind ; " My flowing robe, I'd freely tear, " To lhade thee from the wind. XIII. " The Pow'r that knows our mutual flame, " Knows Edith's grief and care ; " Would ftrengthen, fure, this feeble frame, " The wounded youth to bear. ( 19* ) XIV. No thou art dead, my Edwin's gone, (( The untimely end is thine ; " Mine, frantic fhrieks, woe's deepefr. groan, " And defperate anguifh mine. XV. " When tidings of the youth I fought, " From all the martial throng ; " With forrow every brow was fraught, " And mute was every tongue. XVI. Blafl, blaft, oh heav'n ! the Con of war, That ftruck the guilty blow ; His portion, here, be deep defpair, * Be endlefs pangs below. XVII. " May thofe his hour of plenty fed, " His hour of anguifh leave, " His wife deride, his fickly bed, " And triumph o'er his grave. XVIII. " Oh ( had'ft thou, in thy native land, " My Edwin, met thy doom ; * " Thy parents, then, with pious hand, " Would rear thy decent tomb. ( x 93 ) XIX. " Thy weeping Edith, every fpring, " The babe we left at home, The garden's fweeteft blooms would fling, * And kneel around thy tomb. XX. Not unlamented would'ft thou lie, " Not quite forgotten fleep ; " Thy village friends would heave the figh, < Thy village maidens weep. XXI. " Thy tomb, the traveller call afide, * To hear thy dawning fame ; Where ruftic rhymes, with honeft pride, " Should tell thy race and name. XXII. " Thy corfe, fhall fcreaming vultures rend, " And flap with eager wing ; " No pious friend, thy bones to tend, " The facred earth to fling. XXIII. " Left thou, for this, thy native land, And brav'd the wintry main ; Roam'd thou, for this, a foreign flrand, " The untimely end to gain. 94 ) XXIV. " Too foon, too foon, the face of death, " We wretched mortals view ; " Why then, ah ! why provoke his wrath, His flying fteps purfue ? XXV. " Ah ! death ! thou ever haunt'it the dome " Where eafe and plenty play ; " When weary anguifh courts the tomb, " Art ever far away, XXVI. " The brave, the witty, young, and fair, " Thou loveft of light to reave ; " While palfy'd age, thro' pangs and care, " Crawls toward a tardy grave. xxvir. Did impious wifhes fill my mind ? " Or impious words my tongue ? " Was I, my fire ! to thee unkind ? " Or, wrought my neighbour's wrong ; XXVIII. That angry heaven fhould fingle me, " For torture and for grief ; < A living warning, doomed to be, " How frail the joys of life. ( 49 ) XXIX. " Hear, Edwin ! hear thine Edith's cries-, Rife to her longing view ; From hated life, to call her, rife, * To call her from her w'oe. XXX. And hark ! that voice 'tis he: 'tis he ; " He calls mc in the blaft ; ' And now his bleeding form I fee, " Edwin ! I come ! I hafte !" N 51 ( *9* ) BALLAD, III. THE CRUELFATHER. BY THE SAME. I. Love, with their growing years, that grew, Once join'd a gentle pair : Young William, he was brave and true, TouDg Lucy, fond and fair. II. The damfel's fire withfiood their flame ; For great his wealth and pride ; Of gentle blood, tho' William came, To him was wealth deny'd. III. Nor forms, religious, join'd their hands, Nor vulgar ties confin'd ; But mutual love's more facred bands, The union of the mind. ( *97 ) IV. Three little months, of trtniport, flew, And lo the heavy day, When thro* his fails the weft wind blew, i And chid^the lover's flay. V. The hours her growing fhame matur'd, And bade it fpring to life ; Lucy, a mother's pangs endur'd, Ere me became a wife. VI. The bufy tongues, that love the tale, Of forrow, guilt, and fhame -, Soon, to the damfel's fire reveal, Her frailty and her flame. VII. The lire, he rufh'd, with fury flung, Soon as the tale he hears, Where, fondling o'er her child fhe hung, And bath'd him with her tears. VIII. " And, mufl for thee the glow of (hame > Thefe furrow'd cheeks o'erfpread j " For thee, the venom'd taunts of fame, " Bow down this hoary head, { 19* ) IX. No-fly my face, for ever fly, And, with thee, fly thy fhame j And fled be every tender tye, " That links thee to my name." X. The light'ning glar'd, the whirlwind's roar, Howld o'er the dreary wild ; He turn'd her forth he clos'd the door, Againft his only child. XI. She clafp'd her boy a tear that fell, Kifs'd from his cheek away ? And fought a friendly peafant's cell, Befide the neighbouring fea. XII. Oh ! may," (he cry'd, " thy Mother's arms, " Each furly blaft defeat ; " May heav'n protedl: thine infant charms, " And make thy (lumbers fweet. XIII. " 'Tis thine, my infant ! folded warm " In rofy fleep to glow ; " To fmile, on all this ruffian ftorm, (f On all thy mother's woe. ( l 99 ) XIV. Nor keen repentance, claims thy tear, Nor anxious fear is thine : But mine the breaft that's rack'd with fear, And keen repentance mine. XV. Thy Mother's fteps, a Father's hate, < f A Father's curfe purfues ; " Nor confcious virtue fmooths her fate, (t Nor pity heals her woes, XVI. " Oh ! happy is the infant breaft, Exempt from guilt an.d care : " Soon are its little woes fupprefl, Soon dry'd its little tear. XVII. " Sleep on, fweet innocent ! a while ; " Sleep on nor mare my woe ; Too near, thine hour of pain and toil, c Too foon thy tears mall flow. XVIII. For who, my child ! with fond command, " Thy witlefs days mall guide ? " Or who with kindly, careful, hand " Thy daily bread provide ? ( 200 ) XIX. " Thy gallant Father, who ftiali fave, " What gracious power fuftain ? u When whirlwinds plow the wat'ry grave, " And death fcowls o'er the main ? XX. " And foon, thy wretched Mother's woes, Mull ft retch her, cold and pale ; " Thus, both thy parents, fhalt thou lofe, " E'er thou their lofs can' ft feel. XXI. * Thou, at the unopening door, fhalt ftand, " I dwelt beyond the leas j ' 'Till late within my native land, " I long'd to end my days, o 2 ( 2ia ) XXXIX. '"* Difeafe had chain'd me to my bed, " Oh! horror, fliame, and grief ; " To hear, that Isabell mufl wed, w The man who gave her life. XL. And, now, convi&ion full receive, " My dying words obey ; " Inclos'd, a ring, thy father gave, Thy father's pidure fee.'* XLI. " Recall'd to life, with trembling hafte, " I fought my child and wife ; * The defperate fleel, had piere'd her breaft, " She panted forth her life. XLII. ** My friends, from death, with qruel care, " My frantic grief withheld ; m Now funk, to patient, calm defpair, To fuffer life, I yield." XLIII. . " May heav'n ! old man, relieve thy woes, " And call thee, foon, to peace : u May, in the grave, thy fuff'rings clofe, u Thy fhamr, thy forrows, ceafe!" ( 213 ) BALLAD V, THE PALMER. BY THE SAME* Kind Palmer, teach my doubtful pace, Thehallow'd fpot to find; Where died, for all our finful race, The Saviour of mankind. II. To kifs the rocks, whereon he djed, f The tomb, wherein he lay ; And, with contrition's falteft tide, * To wafli my fins away. ( H* ) III. " To heal a bofom, felf-condemn'd, " To make my peace with God : " Full many a ftormy wave I ftemm'd, " And weary Hep. I trod." IV. " Thy words, and looks, difcordant fhow, The Palmer meekly faid, (t For virtues, feeming, fmooths thy brow, " And crowns thine hoary head. V. ,f That facred garb, the child declares, " Of prayer and facred fong ; " The foul, efcap'd from fordid cares, u The hand, unftain'd with wrong. VI. " But craggy, Friar, is the way, u And far the day is worn ; " And fierce, by night, the Arabs ftra.y, t( With me remain till morn. VII. " Yon mountain fee, forlorn and bare, " Tho' once with olives crown'd; " Oft forms angelic, hover'd there, " A Saviour trod the ground. ( 2I 5 ) VIII. There (lands a fmali and homely cell, Yet large enough for me ; w For long, to pomp, I've bade farewell Forbade my wifh to ftray. IX. And there, with tears, I ftrive, like thee, To make my peace with heav'n; *< My fole employment, is to pray, *< Sole wiih, to be forgiven." x. Difcourfe beguil'd their tedious way, The fteep afcent they trod ; And hollow'd, in a rock, furvey The Palmer's lone abode. XI. Where nought befpoke the worldly foul x The man of prayer to lure j A crofs, a bible, difh, and, bowl, And pitcher, all its ftore.. XII, Their drink the brook, their viands bread, And godly fpeech their feaft ; The boughs of palm compos'd a bed, , Where toil alone could reft. ( 216 ) XIII. But e'er in reft their limbs were laid. The Palmer, faintly, cries* u Oh ! holy Friar, lend thine aid, " E'er death opprefs mine eyes. XIV. ,s Thine aid, to houfel and to flirive, " Oh ! holy Friar, lend ; " The pangs of death, my bofom rive, And foon my life fhall end." XV. With folemn voice, the Friar pray'd, The crofs before him held j Now, pour forth all thy foul," he faid, Be all thy fins reveal'd, XVI. For God, the contrite fpirit heals, He loves the pious tear ; His faving mercy, never fails, " The child of faith and prayer." XVII. " I trait," the Palmer faid, to gain He'd fmooth the languid pain-contracled brow, And hufh. the ftarving orphan's piteous cry. - Well his plain manfion knew the fick and poor; His praife was lifp'd by every orphan's tongue ; The foot of mis'ry oft his threshold wore > And oft he ftay'd the outftretch'd hand of wroRg. ( 225 ) For love was Edward's tender bofora made, He lov'd, and young Maria was his choice ; Each fcene romantic, and each lonely glade, At morn and evening, heard his plaintive voice. When at her father's board the youth was fet, His eye would o'er Maria's beauties rove, Then timid fall, whene'er her glance they met, In all the blufhing cowardice of love. He lov'd in fecret, and he figh'd by Health, Nor wifh'd the charmer of his heart to gain, For Fate deny'd him title, pomp, or wealth, The namelefs offspring of the humble plain. Full eager was Maria's foul refin'd, The paths of ufeful knowledge to explore ; And Edward lov'd to fill her ready mind, With nature's wonders, and hiftoric lore, Together, would they mufe o'er moral ftrains, And mighty tales that ancient poets fing ; Together, would they rove the cultur'd plains, And talk of nature's works, and nature's King. p ( 226 ) Supported by her father's ftern command, The fway defpotic of parental pow'r ; When wealth and folly proffer'd to her hand, In place of happinefs the fplendid dow'r ; No wifh fhe knew that veftals might not tell, Within her foul fat innocence inthrori'd ; Low, at her father's feet, Maria fell, And blufhing foft, her love for JEdward own'd. And, wouldft thou then mine ancient blood debafe, And wed a boy unknown to wealth or fame ; w Whofe fortune's narrow, as obfeure his race, " Whofe views are humbler, than his humble name ?" She clafp'd his knees, bedew'd with many a tear, He fternly fpurn'd her, as fhe proftrate lay ; Then cry'd, " As thou a father's curfe doft fear, " Forget that Edward, and my will obey." With locks and bars, and many a bufy fpy, In durance clofe he held the gentle maid ; With vifage harm, the maiden old was nigh, To mock her forrows, and her love upbraid. ( 7 ) As fhrinks the vernal now'r, e'er fully blowa, Beneath the harfhnefs of the northern wind ; So fhrunk Maria, at her father's frown ; Her beauties faded, and her bloom declin'd. With proffer'd gold he lur'd a ruffian band, The wretched Edward to their fhip to bear ; Of freedom's name while vainly boafts the land, Th' indignant Briton from his home that tear. They fpread their canvas, and the land they leave, The gale was profp'rous, and they fwiftly fled ; A ftarting plank receiv'd the briny wave, And clos'd the circling deep o'er Edward's head; Her fire the tidings bore, with cruel joy, To fad Maria, where fhe lonely wept ; A deadly darknefs feal'd her fwimming eye, A leaden flumber o'er her fenfes crept. The leech's efforts call'd her back to life, But call'd her back to reafon's ufe no more * DiftracYion lent, to footh her matchlefs grief, The fond creations of its magic pow'r. ( 228 ) Yet ev'n in frenzy, amiable and kind, Nor does her tongue unlovely thought impart, Companion, truth, and innocence, refin'd, Inform the wildeft wandYmgs of her heart. " Ah ! now I've fhunn'd my father's jealous eye, " To-night, will Edward meet me in the grove ; " There will we fing, like little birds that fly, And talk we much will talk of guilelefs love. But then my father let not him o'erhear, " Or he will rage my Edward ! how he'll rage , " Sometimes he's harm, yet ftill I love him dear : " His harfhnefs, Edward, is the fault of age ! He was not harm, while I was yet a child, He'd kifs me, then, and fet me on his knee ; " He's fat, for hours, and fondly gaz'd, and fmil'd, " To fee the playful feats of infancy. f The fable dames of India's golden fhore, " With all their treafures, fought my Edward's love, " Pour'd at his feet, their gems and heapy ore, " But npught could lure, the conitant youth to rove. ( *29 ) Lo ! brought to pay his conftancy and truth, " By fairy hands> vhat fudden treafures lie ; < All thefe are Edward's and the lovely youth m With gems fhaU glitter, as with flars tl^e fky- Maria's trefles, too, fliall float unbound, And, dreft by Edward's hand, with jewels fliine ; The youths and maids (hall wond'ring crowd around, a And envy much, to fee us both fo fine. * See there his tall fhip trembling on the waves ! A thoufand mermaids pufh it on the land, " He cafts his anchor, and the vefTel leaves j I fly to meet my Edward on the ftrand." She flew but foon the gay delufibn o'er, Her penfive ftep, in filent fadnefs, turn'd : Her father flood, and fmote his temples hoar, And curfl his cruelty, and vainly mourn'' 1 . ( 236 ) INDOLENCE,^ AN ELEGY. BY THE SAME. Where yonder oaks, a noon -day twilight throw, And hoar, with mofs, extend their aged arms : Now, let me walk, with meafur'd ftep and flow, And woo foft melancholy's fober charms. Sadnefs, I know, oft have I met the maid At even-tide, along yon cavern'd fteeps ; Or, by the flream, that thro' the fullen made, Like me, unheeded, fteals along and weeps. No more, the bufy world my heart infnares ; No more, the fool of counfel will I prove, The fport of projects and the prey of cares, No more in fearch of wealth and grandeur rove. * Written while the Author wa&a ftudcnt in Trinity College, Dublin. ( 2 3 I ) To humble flation, let me live confin'd, For little are the cares of little men ; Of unfufpicious heart, believing mind, I cannot look thro' life with prudent ken. ? Tis not in me, of fpirits to difcern, I think mankind to be, whate'er they fay 5 Nor know 'till I, by fad experience learn, That men can lye, can perjure, or betray. That ufeful fkill, ray bofom never knows, To fhun, by cold miftruft, the diflant wrong ; No doating girl, is more the dupe of vows, More fondly hangs upon^he flatterer's tongue. No more, will I, the world's mean lore obey ; My wants ajce bounded, and my wifhes few : Each year, each month, each week, that rolls away, Some want fhall banifh, or fome wifh fubdue. Why is our fprightly youth to labour fold, In rugged ftudies fpent the painful hour ; To grafp vexation, in the form of gold, And win difquiet in the garb of pow^r I ( 23* ) To give our time to forms, to live by rule, To (lander's fpiteful notice to be rais'd ; To boaft acquaintance with a titled fool, Or by a needy parafite be prais'd ? Cut off from pleafure, and bereft of peace, We fwell with every gainful art our (tore, Againft the day, when appetite fhall ceafe, And all our pleafure be to count it o'er. E'er pleafure's price, our cares, our labours, gain, We, chill'd by age, muffc pleafure's call deipife : No more defire fhall pant in every vein, Wit, mirth, and gaiety, we ceafe to prize- To thee, obfcurity, I give my days, Forego my wifhes, and contract my cares y Refign'd to, ferious, trifling, letter'd eafe, I'll fteep th' unlabour'd fimple (train in tears. While, unexhaufted is my little frore, My (lender meal, the child of woe fhall fhare j While, thro' this frame the vital currents pour, The child of woe (hall have my honed tear. ( 233 ) My mind fhall follow, ftill, its harmlefs bent, For vice, or guilt, too indolent or proud ; I'll in the dignity of rich content, Enjoy my poverty and fcorn the crowd. The thoughts of future, ne'er fhall haunt my breaft, Nor gloom, unfriendly, o'er the prefent throw ; Soft as an infant's dream, that fmiles in reft, Unvext, unnotic'd, fhall my moments flow. The felf-lmportant rhymer's idle toils, Amufive ftudies, and the chofen friend, Shall drefs my poverty in fober fmiles, And down the tide of fate contented fend. ( 234 } L E G Y> IN THE MANNER OF TIBULLUS. BY THE SAME. Others, with fpecious eloquence may move f Who feign a paffion, with difhoneft art ; But,'polifh'd rhet'ric, fuits not artlefs love, Nor glozing flatt'ry with the feeling heart. Others, in fortune's tinfel gifts may mine, "With Lybia's gold, Golconda's diamonds glow ; Sincerity, is # all the wealth that's mine, A heart, is all that's giv'n me to beflow. Poor, tho' I am, yet will I blefs that fate That made me honeft, when it made me poor ; No fordid arts fhall raife my low eftate, No dark contrivance fhall encreafe my (lore. ( 235 ) Nor honeft poverty, (hall Delia fcorn ; She judges not by mercenary rules ; She knows the little, gaudy, gifts to fpurn, That fortune laviihes on knaves and fools. Oh ! would'ft thou bear, retir'd, with me to live, To fhare my heart, and (hare my little ftore j Love, peace, and competence, are mine to give, And nature, Ample nature, a(ks no more. For Thee, my love ! I'd deck the rural feat, And, o'er its walls the mantling woodbine train ; The humble roof mould with frefh flraw be neat, And, clear, the ftream, mould wander o'er the plain. In fimple neatnefe mould the garden fmile, With no vain flow'r, nor rare exotic flor'd j And, thro' the year, to pay my pleafmg toil, With wholfome luxury mould crown our board. Beneath the trees, wild fcatter'd o'er the lawn, In Ihady tufts, I'd place the frequent feat ; Where oft, by unprofeffing kindnefe drawn, An evening groupe of cheerful friends fhall meet. ( *3* ) Of fruits, and cream, we'd fpread the rural feaft, The dance led o'er the flow'r-enamell'd ground ; The fudden frolic, and the harmlefs jeft, The fong, the tale of pity, fhould go round. The fportive bufihefs of a country life> Enough to chequer, not confume the day ; The foft employs, of parent and of wife, Should wing the hours with filent lapfe awayi Our family, fhould each in other olefin In winter, circling, crowd around the fire ; "While every face in healthful fmiles is dreft, And playful tongues, in general mirth confpire* Againft the window, with amufive foundi The rain fhould patter, and the wind fhould howl ; With blazing faggots, while the hearth is crown'd, And focial neighbours fhare the temp'rate bowl. Than many an owner of a wide domain, We'd richer prove, amidft our little flore ; Why wafte our lives, perplex our fouls for gain* Since man is but comparatively poor. ( 237 ) L E G Y, IMITATED FROM T I B U L L U S. BY THE SAME. Why did my daily incenfe reach the fky ? "Or, why my tongue the fuppTiant accents pour ; What the fond wifh that prompts the fecret figh, That flill recurs with every penfive hour ? Is it that menial herds mould fue to me, Who crufh the needy, kneel to thofe above ? The marble dome, the equipage that's gay, The vile applaufe of envious wonder move ? Or, are ambition's daring heights my aim, To rule, with fteady law, the wond'ring crowd ? That fhouting armies mould my deeds proclaim, And {laughter d nations write my fame in blood ? < * 3 8 > Or, did my breaft the foolifh wifh admit, To gain applaufe by making others wife ; Did the vain palms of wifdom or of wit, Seduce my reafon and excite my fighs ? No my Sabina but of thee pofleft, To fcorn life's ferious follies, caufelefs woes, That my warm youth might pant upon thy breaft, And on thy breaft, my feeble age repofe. Poor, let me be, fo I poffefs thy love, Mean, let me be, fo not defpis'd by thee > Sabina's love, my only wealth fhall prove, Her fond regarcf, my only pride mall be. In aught, can lafting happinefs be found, Which chance beftow'd, and chance may take away Satiety may pall, affliction wound, Malice fubvert, or (lander make her prey. < 239 ) THE CURIOUS LOVER. BY THE SAME. From whence, fair Zephyretta, fay, The fubjecT: of your tuneful lay, That foftly whilpers to the air, The native fweetnefs of the fair ? From lips of coral did it fly, In form and likenefs of a figh ? To tell what fecret tumults, petit Within, are lab'ring for a vent : For flormy griefs, I know it well, Fair Zephyretta's bofom fwell ; Or did you mean it a reward, To pay the Sonnets of your Bard ? In token of a bounteous mind, Nor, to one fenfe alone confin'd ; As glowing from your heart it came, To fpeak the warmth of mutual flame ( 2 4 o ) But not from lips of coral red, I know it well, the pris'ner fled. O ! whence, fair Zephyretta, fay, The fubjecr. of your tuneful lay ? Above, below, before, behind, Whence came it to perfume the wind ? Oh ! let me, to encreafe my flame, Behold the place from whence it came. C *4i ) O V E WILL NOT BK LED BY THE NOSE. BY THE SAME. Numps ftrove with Nosemunda his fuit to advance, By fighing, by ogling, by long, and by dance ; Her heart he aflaulted, from every quarter, But from her could obtain nothing more than a garter ; Unavailing, were all the attempts of his head, The Nymph was too nice, by the Nofe to be led : His ofF'rings me flighted, his paffion repell'd, With love and the colic, his ftomach was fwell'd. With pain and defpair, he employs a new part, His pangs to relieve, and to foften her heart ; " 'Tho' flrong as a fortrefs, I needs mufl regard her i c * Surrender me may, mould I try to bombard her ; ( 242 ) " By prepofterous means, the perverfe one be mine, " While clouds of rich incenfe, I wreath to her fhrine." The fighs of his love, to the Nofe of the maid, Thro' a poftern gate, or a breach, he convey'd, In notes that were fomething 'twixt mufic and fong , But here he was found Fundamentally wrong ; He pierc'd not the heart thro' the Nofe of the fair, She fnufPd up his incenfe, but flighted his pra/r, Nor on the whole matter, could better his cafe, For fhe ftuck a large Quaker pin, in his Broad-Face- ( 243 ) ERSES, WRITTEN AT CASTLETOWN, IN THE COUNTY F LIMERICK; THE SEAT JOHN WALLER, ESQ^ BY THE SAME. How many long revolving years, Of forrows, pleafures, hopes, and fears, Of anxious cares, and worldly flrife, Have mark'd the chequer'd web of life, Since fortune firlt my footfteps drew, Thefe happy rural fcenes to view ? Again, to meet th' Atlantic tide, I fee majeftic Shannon glide, And, fmooth as glafs, refleft the fhore, Or, hear him, with majeftic roar, Summon his tributary waves, And wake the Tritons from their caves. Where'er my eyes delighted range, I mark the grateful interchange, Of tilth and pafture, lawn and glade, The lowly copfe, the {lately fhade. 0^2 ( *44 ) Sweet fcenes, where I have whilom rang'd, I trace you all myfelf how chang'd ! Then youth infus'd its colours warm, And every objecl: had its charm ; With lavifh hand, now time and care, Their fnows have fprinkled on my hair j My foul, what mix'd emotion fills ! How for row melts, how pleafure thrills ! The parted, foft regrets impart, The living, warm th' expanfive heart j Each grove, each profpecl, as I tread, Recalls the mem'ry of the dead. . With open brow, and focial heart, And converfe free, difclaiming art j With harmlefs mirth, and fancies light, That wing'd the day, prolonged the night : With welcome, in his heart and hand, I fee my Friend before me ftand ; That heart which, late, fo warmly burn'd, With friendmlp's flame, to clay is turn'dj The hand and tongue, that welcome gave, Are vanilh'd in the iilent grave. How, like the leaves around me ftrown, Are faded joys, that I have known ! Thus, mufing, 'till the clofe of day, 'Mid venerable fhades I ftray 5 ( 245 ) Advancing eve, in ftill repofe, Along the deep her mantle throws, In ftreaming gold and purple fires, The glorious orb of day retires ; And now, the lafl departing blaze, On Shannon's level bofom plays, And now, to catch th' enamour'd gale, The ftately bark expands her fail ; Alternate feen, and veil'd, fhe moves, And feems to range among the groves. Nor, does the varied fcene delight, With forms, alone, that glad the fight - x For many an object, here, we find, Speak home, and inward, to the mind ^ The features of progreffive good, And bounty, truly, underflood. On every fide, the cultur'd land, ConfefTes the laborious hand ; The cots, in fimple neatnefs rife, The redd'ning harvefts glad our eyes j Advancing, hand in hand, with toil. Content and eafe adorn the foil. Here, humble worth, fhall rear its head, And here, the virtuous habits fpread ; Here, decent love and order dwell, And, drunken rage and doth, expel j ( *** ) The precepts of religious truth, Shall form, to good, the riling youth j. Shall dignify the peafant's fate, With knowledge fuited to his ftate ; For, fee ! the School expands its door, To fummon in the youthful poor What judging head what lib'ral hand, Convokes around the harmlefs band ? To virtue trains their little hearts, Their little hands to ufeful arts, And gives, more rich than India's wealth, The treafures of eternal health ! What heart conceiv'd fuch ufeful aims ? The juft applaufe, a Female claims. I turn my face, with fecret pain. From paths I ne'er may tread again ; With rapid vortex, cares of life, The bufy fcene, the wordy ftrife, Again abforb me from the dream, Of haunted made a,nd wizard ftream m % Forbid my devious feet to rove, By upland copfe, or gloomy grove. Yet, mould I, at fome future day, Again, thefe fav'rite fcenes furvey f Be it my fate, unchang'd, to find, Thefe fav'rite fcenes their owner's mind. ( M7 % VERSES WRITTEN AT THE HOUSE OB JOHN WALLER, ESCL BY THE SAME. Sequester'd fcenes, beloved retreat, Of eafe and elegance, the feat ; Where virtue dwells, and beauty fhines. And tafte, the focial hour refines. The mafter of this fertile ground, DirTufes happinefs around ; And (hews the virtuous ufe of wealth, Imparting comfort, peace, and health ; No haughty Thane, whofe iron handj Severely, grinds the vafTal band ; He loves to hear, in accent rude, Th' untutor'd voice of gratitude ; He loves to mark, how honeft gain, Repays the labours of the fwain ' y ( 248 ) How plenty, child of ruftic toil, And fleek contentment love the foil ; Thrice happy they ! that wealth employ, To fill the humble heart with joy ; What pleafure muft their fouls o'erflow, Beyond what luxury can know ! The bleffings, they confer, to fee, And inly fay " Thefe flow from me.** Thus, heav'n, its firft creation view'd, Saw, and rejoiced, that all was good. ( 249 ) N E S, ADDRESSED TO MRS. WALLER. BY THE SAME. The rhyming vain difcarded quite, What fubjecl: tempts me now to write ?- Let youth unite, with female grace, Harmonious form, expreffive face : Thefe charms, exterior, let us find Surpaft, by the ftill fairer mind ; Let every female virtue blend, To mark the parent and the friend ; With polifh'd fenfe, let freedom dwell, And all united, form a Belle.* * The Lady's Name. ( *s ) VERSED ADDRESSED TO THE INFANT SON OF JOHN WALLER, ESQ^ BY THE SAME. Treasure of parental eyes, Flow'r of frefh and vermil dyes 5 Not fo bright, the morning ray, Ufhers in a fummer's day ; Not fo fweet the buds appear, Promifing a fruitful year. Happy nature, beauteous child, In thy face, ferenely mild ; In th' harmonious form fo fair, Speaks the objecl: of thy care ; Tells, that (lie thy form defign'd, Manfion of a fairer mind ( * S I > May, fweet child, thy riper will, All that nature meant fulfil ; May'ft thou 'fcape the (nares of yc May'ft thou walk in paths of truth As thy little thoughts expand, Science lead thee by the hand ; Thus, to perfect manhood rife, ^Treafure of parental eyes, ( fit ) L E G Y, OS THE DEATH Of MRS. ANNE HOWES, WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE, JANUARY 2, 1 796. BY THE SAME. Heard you that figh ? The fatal ftroke is o'er ; What once was youth and beauty is no more ! No more, fhall lively fenfe illume that face, No more, that figure beam with female grace ; Within the manfion of the faultlefs breaft, No more, the feelings and the virtues reft. Where now that eye devoutly raifed to heav'n ? Where now the tear to human forrows giv'n ?-^- Nor, was her feeling to that tear confin'd, Her bounteous hand accorded with her mind : The virtues that, to heav'n and mortals dear, Shine mildly bright in the domeftic fphere, ( 253 ) la fair gradation, to their final clofe, From filial duties to parental rofe : Embracing all the charities of life, The gentle fifter and the tender wife. Yet not engroft alone by nature's claim, Th' expanfive heart was warm with friendfhip's flame Oh ! mourn her not, tho' now from fight remov'd, Nor think her loft to all that here fhe lov'd ; Calm refignation footh'd the pangs of death, Surrounding angels caught her parting breath, Difarm'd the flings of the devouring grave, And wafted back to God the foul he gave ; Th' exulting fpirit purified by pain, Releas'd from thraldom of its mortal chain, Congenial fpirits feeks, and kindred fkies, Where tears are wip'd, for ever, from all eyes. ( 254 ) A VERY LONG TALE ABOUT NOTHING, THE. GERMAN. BY THE SAME. Intent to journey many a mile, Dan William took his way ; From radiant eyes and rofy finile, That led his heart aftray. He deem'd it meet and wife to part, From her he cou'd not win ; For why ? the tyrant of his heart Him valued not a pin. And, for he wifh'd a comrade dear, Upon the road to have, He fought bim out a barriiler, A man both learn'd and grave. ( ns ) ; Their chaife it was both large and wide, Their horfes flout and ftrong ; Their fardels faft, behind, were tied, For why ? the road was long. They journey'd on in comely flats, "With mirth and goodly glee ; And points of law they did debate, As far as Kilkenny. Our pilgrims, there, a vow did make, A folemn vow perdie ; That for their beauteous ladies fake, They'd fet the Whether, in love, or hate, or grief, or joy, No common modes of fpeech, will (he employ i No common feelings in her bofom reign, Eternal trance of pleafure or of pain ; Whether, fhe laughs, or cries, or loves, or hatesj 'Tis all high influence of o'er-ruling fates. Lord ! with what fcorn fhe views the vulgar crew. That reft in common fenfe, like me and you. Poor wretched beings ! ftupidly content, That fhun the fiow'ry paths of sentiment. Who can the rough, unfeeling, things endure ? : Tis vaftly horrid ! vaflly, to be fure ! But, when two sentimental Spirits meet, For fcorn and ridicule, oh ! what a treat ! " Sir, your addrefs, fo winning and fo flealing ;" And, deareft creature ! you have fo much feeling. Oh I my dear Mifs ! your sentiments, divine! " Are, fomething exquifite, fublime, and fine/* " Ah ! Sir, with you to tafte, without controul, The feaft of reafon, and the flow of foul. ( 26 7 ) " Sure, in one mould, kind Nature form'd our hearts." " Mifs, you have genius :" " Oh ! Sir, you have parts." " What tranfports were it, on fome lonely fteep, With thee, my Fair ! to tend my fleecy fheep, To Men to the foft JEolian lyre, * Or hear the cricket chirp from the fire." " Oh, Damon ! where you tread, contentment beams ; < The wild a court j-~the cot a palace Teems." Thus, in a mental air-balloon they ride, Tow'ring o'er prudence, and from reafon wide ; 'Till, many a region of romance o'erpaft, In Doctor's-Commons, they come down at Jaft, ( 268 } THE SNAKE, THE VIPER, AKD THE COUNTRYMAN, A FABLE. BY THE SAME. The fummer fun, with fcorching pow'r, Sat high in his meridian tow'r ; When, fmoothly, gliding from a brake, Out can>e a fleek and polifh'd Snake ; Her fkin, was azure, gold, and white, Her eyes, like rubies, red and bright, With glance too keen for living thing, As if their very balls could fling ; With venom fwell'd and felf-conceit, She bafk'd, fhe wriggled, in the heat ; And, thus, her confeious worth expreft, As vanity inform'd her breaft : Sure, ne\ r er yet was form'd a creature, " So elegant in mind and feature ; ** With bright and varied hues I mine, <{ The curve of beauty, too, is mine; C 269 ) My fpires unfold a namelefs charm, A bracelet fit for Venus' arm ; A plaything that might well employ, Her wicked Imp, her urchin Boy ; " Such is my form, and for my mind, " Sagacity with tafte refin'd ; " And genius, which is ever mown In doing mifchief, are my own. " "What creature walks, or creeps the plain, Bleft with fuch power of giving pain ? " What precious venom I diftil, Fwind my path, and flily kill ; " The human race my poifon fear, And, my fuperior fenfe revere, " My claim to wifdom they allow, ' Since, for its type, my form they mow." A little dufky Viper near, Her fayings drank, with greedy ear ; The reptile beauty {he beheld, And pride, her footy bofom fwell'd ; Propt on her tail, ihe fpurn'd the ground, And hifs'd her vanity around ; " If I may truft my form and make, " I too," fhe faid, am born a Snake ; And, tho' in beauty I may fail, " Yet I can bite, and have a tail ; ( 270 ) U I, fbmething fhorter am, 'tis true, Dutch-built, in form, and dark in hue ; w Yet, I can give as keen a wound, " As any Snake that crawls on ground ; " And fo the firfl of human kind, tc That partes near, fhall furely find.'* A Man that faw the rancorous Thing, Determin'd, thus, to bite or fling; A ftone, with aim unerring, fped, And, all her dreams of mifchief fled. With patience, now, my Girl, attend, And hear an old, experienc'd, Friend ; No mighty charms, your face imparts, Nor yours, a (hape to conquer hearts ; Belinda's form, Belinda's eyes, A thoufand failings can difguife : Her fmiles, her glances, have an art, That makes us quite forget her heart -, But, would you imitate her ? Child ! O ! never was attempt fo wild ; Good-nature is the bridal drefs, The fuving charm of uglinefs. ( 2 7 I ) THE BY THE SAME. Farewell, Lady, I am free, Lady, think no more of me ; Take thy tokens, take thy rings, Amorous gawds, and idle things; Take thy letters, give me mine, Breathing love, in every line j With diflimulation flain'd, Thine are artful, all, and feignM: But thy kiflesjiiuft remain, Thofe I give not back again. - Every kifs, was once a dart, Piercing, ev'n, the heart of heart, Bidding tumult and furprife, Flufli the face, diflblve the eyes ; E. ( 272 ) Poifon'd, now, with force unkind, How they rankle in the mind ! KifTes, bide no more with me, From thefe lips I fet you free : Take them, wanton, wild as air, Take them, falfe, and venal Fair. Venal Fair, difperfe them wide, So, with me, no more they bide j Give me back my foolifh rhyme, But, alas ! my lavifh'd time ! Wifhes and regrets are vain, It muft ne'er return again j Yet no matter I am free Lady, think no more of me. When we firft were wont to meet, Hearts, in eyes, would kifs and greet ; DifFrent, now, the glance unkind, Herald of embitter'd mind, Flafhes fcorn, defiance wings, Angry taunt, reproachful flings. Rifing blufhes wont to fpeak, Mantling pleafure o'er the cheek -, All the fecret of the breaft, Ardent wifhes, fighs fuppreft, ( 273. ) Big defires, that inly fwell, All, the lips were (low to tell -, Now, the tint of mutual blame, Mantles rage and mantles fhame : Farewell, Lady, I am free, Lady, think no more of me. Idle fcrolls, of fond defire, Expiate your fins in fire ; Oh ! that I could thus deftroy, Every trace of vanifh'd joy j Amorous hope, for ever fled, All her tender nurflings dead : Cold difdain, with killing blaft, O'er the gay creation paft Borne away, like painted clouds, See the fairy vifion crowds ; Fading, they difTolve away, Gloomy night (huts in the day ; And the vapours, whence they grew, Now diflblve in briny dew j Farewell, farewell, fancy's reign, Never to return again ! Heav'ns ! how fondly I have hung, On that falfe and fraudful tongue j ( *74 ) What endearments but no more- Why mould I their lofs deplore ? Now, my follies I can fee Lady, think no more of me. 'Twas no perfidy of mine, Lady, this event was thine ; Was it chance, or was it fate ? Pitying my deluded flate, Grieving that I thus mould fall, Simple unfufpicious thrall : Was it predetermined vice ? Was it fudden light caprice ? Snatch'd me, from the felfim wile, From the falfe and cruel fmile , From the proud difdainful heart, From profeffions full of art ; From the tiger aim that lay, Crouching for the deftin'd prey ; From the pride, but ill-conceal'd, Furious paffions half reveal'd ; From the malice of thy fex, Hoarded up, my heart to vex, From the harpy of a wife, Doom'd to make me fick of life From fuch plagues, behold me free, Ladv, think no more of me. i 275 ) Fond endearments that are part, Confidence too full to laft } Fatal hour, when firft we met, O ! farewell, could I forget, Could I banifh from my mind, Words fo foolifh and fo kind Scarcely can thy captive tell, How he broke the magic fpell, That befotted and deprav'd, Held the darkling foul enflav'd ; Sooner, Circe's fabled train, Could their fordid change explain, Or record the blefl efcape, That reftor'd the human fhape : 'Twas no perfidy of mine, Lady, this event was thine Reafon fainted at the tafk, Twas the merry midnight mafic, At the jocund rebeck's found, And the fprightly dance went round, That difplay'd tjhy lecret heart, Rent the veil of fpecious art ; Caught my Tyrant unaware, Pointed out the fatal fnare ; Show'd the tenor of a mind, N Vain, capricious, falfe, unkind 3 s 2 ( 2 7 6 ) Then, from his meridian tower, My propitious flar had power ; Then, my better genius fway'd, Pallas, then, her fhield difplay'd Farewell, Lady, I am free, Lady, think no more of me. ( 277 ) DEPARTED FRIENDSHIP. BY THE SAME, In Memory's train, ye mufes hafte, And fing a dirge, to friendship paft. Alas ! no more, with temp'rate ray, To gild the night, or glad the day i No more, to charm ;'no more, to rife ; For ever vanifh'd from thefe eyes ; No more, to come on angel wing, And joys and comforts with her bring} The converfations void of art, The vacant laugh, the expanfive heart \ The evening walk, the focial meal, And foothings kind, that fbrrows heal ; Friendly debate, on pinions light, That wings the day, and wafts the night, By oppofition, more combin'd, While mind ftrikes fire, from kindred mind ; ( *7* ) Similitude in tafte, the fruits Of labour, join'd in learn'd purfuits , Imparted hopes, imparted fears, And joyous fympathetic tears. In memory's train, ye mufes hafte, And fing a dirge, to friendship part. Departed friendship, with what pain I mark'd thy fick declining wane ! How foughf to cheer thy languid hour, With fond attention's cordial power ; Then, explanation fought to tame The ill, but alienation came ; Oh ! fay, what poifon or what fpell ? Forbade thee in my foul to dwell ; Did jealoufy impair thy health, Or rivalfhip in power or wealth ? No fled was every young de/ire, Extinguifh'd all ambition's fire ; For early difappointments came, To chill both fond and daring aim. Or, was it the defire of change, In youthful bofoms, prone to range ; "When light, in friendship, as in Love, From mate to mate, they joy to rove ? No progeny of wild caprice, No child of partnerfhip in vice j ( 279 ) Twas manhood firfl beheld me thine, Thy reign endur'd to life's decline. In memory's train, ye mufes hafte, And fing a dirge, to friendship part. ! friendship, didft thou find a place, In bofoms of unequal race, And leave a void, between, where pride Might enter in, as friendship died ?*- No I may tell, from boafting free, 1 was not lower in degree But, bafe are they, that fpurn the good, The learn'd, and gentle, for their blood. O ! how the vaflal pride I fcorn, That courts the ignoble, nobly born ; Did rank fuperior make the truth, Of friendship in the Hebrew Youth ? Did princely Thefeus fail to find, In humbler rank, a kindred mind ? No, minds are pair'd before their birth, And fcorn mechanic ties, of earth j Yet bonds like thofe, we rarely find, To draw, the haughty, high-born mind ; "While friendship, like a modefr flow'r, Oft loves the low fequefter'd bow'r ; And flies from pomp, and fhrinks at pride, And fcorn, to folly, near allied 5 ( 28o ) And oft, in wealth's meridian blaze, The blofTom droops, the root decays. In memory's train, ye mufes hafle, And fing a dirge, to friendship pafh O ! why withdraw thy lov'd controul ? Emotion, kindred to my foul, Acknowledged more, by reafon's voice, The boaft of manhood's fober choice ! Perfection of the focial ties, Thou mofl refin'd of fympathies-; The copy of angelic loves, The bond, that reafon mofl approves. Did idle babbling to the day, The clofe depofit e'er betray ? Say, did I touch, with hand unkind, The fecret forenefs, of the mind ? If ought deform if ought unfound, In friendship's open hours I found > If friendship trufled to my ear, A thing unfit to tell, or hear ; All thefe, in dark oblivious gloom, Shall reft, with friendship, in the.tomb. In memory's train, ye mufes hafte, And fing a dirge, to friendship paft. ( 281 ) O \ friendship, how thy gifts are fled, And, alienation, in their ftead, With civil fcorn, and fecret fhame, For courtefy refigns thy name ; And meafur'd love, with worldly art, To forms extern transforms the heart ; Profeffions vague, attentions faint, And civil forms, and dull conftraint : Oh ! how the little love of felf, The deference to pow'r and pelf, Appear, when fwifter than the wind, The change of fortune tries the mind, And mows the faults it ftrove to hide, The bafe defires, that inly bide : Yet, never, friendship, in thy place, May hatred come, with pallid face ; With forky tongue, and fnaky hair, And viper breath, that taints the air. Ne'er may thefe fpe&res of the night, Dance round thy tomb with wild affright : A tender thought, a mournful figh, Be given to friendship's memory, And let oblivion fpread a veil, To hide the woe fhe cannot heal. In memory's train, ye mufes, hafte, And fing a dirge, to friendship pafr. ( tii ) S O !vf E RVILLE GALA. BY THE SAME. The following Jen D'Efprit was occafioned by the Author's being importuned to write on a Ball given by Sir Marcus Somerfille, at his Seat in the County of Meath. To Somerville's Gala, the mufe takes her flight, And, were me a Gourmand, would fing with delight, Of the turbot, the venifon, the melons, and pines, The fweet-meats, and ices, the liqueurs, and the wines ; The pies, and the tofs-ups, fo favory and warm, Would the heart and the tripes, of an Alderman charm; Like Gods we caroufe, tho' like Mortals we eat, 'Till the fiddles and dulcimers found a retreat ; "While the rays of bright beauty, with Champaign combin'd, The fenfes to cheer and enliven the mind ; For Everard, the polifh'd, the gentle, and fair, With the three little Graces, her Daughters, was there; ( 283 ) And fure, I muft ever remember "with pain, The eyes of bright FifheY, the glory of Slane ; Had I ^paper and time, I could name many more, For of Beauties Sir Mark had alTembled two fcore, Befides others, for reafons full eafily guefe'd, Who are welcome at Dances, for foils to the reft. So to dancing they fall, fiddles, dulcimers, chime, And a Lad, with his drumfticks, keeps beating the time; While I, who todancing am little inclin'd, Amufement, in Spenfer and Politics, find ; With fhufF'ling and cutting, and capering and bowing, They duft it away, 'till the cocks fall a crowing ; Then fupper is ferv'd, we wheel off to the right ; And " fpark'ling Champaign," is the word of the night. The fupper, like dinner, was marvellous good, And the Baronet's wine ran about like a flood ; Soups, turkies, and chickens, and lobfters, and groufe, " Well, truly, Sir Marcus, you keep a good houfe ;" Superb were the ornaments, ice in profufion, Magnifique the defTert ; without any confufion We all were attended. Now fupper is done, Ha ! the fiddles again, to the dancing room run ; ( *4 ) Where the feet of the dancers fo merrily fped, We faw the Champaign had crept up to the head ; A few were excepted, fedate and compos'd, Who fat quietly down, and delicioufly doz'd ; Among this fober fet, there befel a mifchance, Such as I, in my life, never heard at a dance ; Our features we fcarcely knew how to compofe, When R caught D , aloud by the nofe j The Lady was ancient, and ftarch was her wig, Tho' youthful the Squire, he was fat as a pig; So great a report, you may think could arife, From cheeks of no common circumference and fize. Some call'd it a piitol-fhot, others a rocket, One faid, " He let off air balloons from his pocket," He dream'd he fmelt powder, and 'woke with a ftart, " Oh foh ! you rude beaft, at a Lady to f t," Mrs. D exclaim'd, and then hid, with her fan, Her vifage, and fcuttled away from the man ; My companions took warning, from this fignal gun. To turn out in frefh air, fo we cut, and we run ; And home with the fun we were trundled along, Which brings to a period, my Supper and Song. ( 28 5 ) THOUGHTS ON VISITING THE MOAT OF NAVAN.* BY THE SAME. The {lately mound, commanding wide, The cultur'd plains on ev'ry fide ; With rapture while the eye is borne, O'er meadows green, and waving corn, And fees the Boyne, in filver wind, Its tributary flream to find} Whofe waters their bright conforts ftain, And blacken, as they feek the main ; Was once the feat of rude alarms, Was dreadful with deftrucYive arms ; For here, encamp'd, infulting foes, And here, the fong of battle rofe * The Moat of Navan is the remains of an ancient Fortification near the Town, from which it takes its name ; from the fummit, is a, fine an4 extenfive view of a rich cultivated country. ( 286 ) Oh f Erin, oft with rude command, Infulting foes have vex'd thy land, Have come, in arms, with tyrant aim, The treafures of thy foil to claim ; And ev'ry wind from Heav'n that blew, Bore to thy ports the pirate crew, The cruel Dane, the Saxon fierce-^- The hearts of Erin's fons to pierce, To fill the land with blood and fpoil, And lord it o'er the ravag'd foil ; But, now, to war and murd'rous deeds, The farmer's cheerful toil fucceeds ; And flocks repofe, and harvefts rife, Where havock wing'd ferocious cries, In grim array where warriors flood, And Erin's fons lay bath'd in blood. Oh ! Erin, Erin, never more May favage Aliens drink thy gore ; Oh ! never may th' infuriate throng, Spread flames and death thy fields among ; May thy green fields, and temp'rate air, Be facred to thy children fair; Erafed, as here, be ev'ry form Of human woes, and wrathful floral 5 May ufeful fteel, redeem'd by fate, No more the flave of human hate ; ( 287 ) Bid all her deadly engines take The fhape, of fickle, fcythe, and rake ; May patriot cares the bad o'er-awe, And licence yield to fober law ; May Freedom lead thy childrens hearts, To feel and love the peaceful arts ; The attendant virtues with her bring, And bid thy meadows laugh and fing* ( 288 ) RETURN HOME, WRITTEN AT NAVAN IN THE YEAR 1 799. BY THE SAME. *Tho' many a friend, with fpecial art, EfTays ,to fill th' expanded heart, And many a fport, and many a joy, Forbids the varied hours to cloy ; Yet ftill the fecret figh I fend, And ftill my wifhes homeward tend. For home the feeling heart can blefs, With joys no language can exprcfs, No heart conceive, that loves to range, Joys that even care to pleafure change ; Home bids us love the toil and pain, That glad the fond domeftic train ; A high-born pleafure dwells at home, Unknown to thofe who feek to roam ; ( **9 J From virtuous pride the pleafure fprings, Home makes us patriarchs and kings, And home, with luxury refin'd, xalts an independent mind. How home, with all perfuafive charms, Allures me to my children's arms I Their forms in flumber I behold, And to my breaft alternate fold ; With gentle look and graceful mien, My little Eyre in fleep is feen ; With honefr, open face and bold, My Algernon I then behold ; And Isabel, whofe dawning ray, Gives promife of the rifing day : To realize this fond delight, Home {hall prefent them to my fight. Rejoicing all to meet their Sire, They crowd, methinks, around the fire ; With pleafure laughing in their eyes, And mix their little joyful cries ; Return'd, the gentle Fan employs Their fond regard, and fhares their joys, The truant they, delighted, view, Her dimpled fmile, her eyes fo blue ; Their toys produce, and coax to roam, Thro' every corner of our home. T ( *5>o ) Their Mother, too, whofe anxious fears, So fondly watch their helplefs years, Shall find their foft embrace reward, Her anxious fears her fond regard. William his low'ring brow fhall cheer, And welcome me, with heart fincere ; Ere yet, renown and gold to find, He feeks the diftant fhores of Ind. I Ere yet the tears of parting flow, May home fome happy days bellow ; And while his Father life retains, Safe, may he feek his native plains ; And clafp his fillers round the waifl, And tell of all his travels pafl ; Forget his toils, and ceafe to roam, And doubly feel the charms of home. 'Tis thus, by truth and feeling trae'd, With no fictitious colours grae'd^ The images of pleafure rife, And bid me homeward turn my eyes. ( W ) ELEGIAC POEM, SACRED TO THE MEMORY RIGHT HONOURABLE JAMES EARL OF CHARLEMONT. BY THE SAME. Opprest with grief, on Tarah's* height I flood, And gaz'd, with moiften'd eye, the gloomy fcene, The angel of deftruftion had been there ; The traces of his awful ftep remain 'd Imprinted deep, frowning, on either fide, The ruins fpake the defolating hand Of civil war ; for late this thirfty foil Was drench'd with native blood j when frantic ragf, * The Town of Taiah was burned during th late Rebellion, the day after the Engagement at Tar ah. T 2 Oh ! Erin, haplefs Erin ! drove thy fons, In wilder'd blind purfuit of Anarchy, To meet the fatal doom, low hung the clouds, Evening came on apace, it intervals, With loud and hollow found, the loaded blaft Beat on the hill ; and fwept the cheerlefs plain. My heart was funk j and recollections dire Crowded on memory, while thus I flood, Abforb'd in bitternefs ; methought a Spirit Pall by me, in the wind, his form unfeen, I felt his influence ; an etherial impulfe, In gentle horror, tingling thro' my veins. As at the pretence of a thing divine, Awe-ftruck I lowly bent j and thus I faid, * I feel thee rufhing on th' aftonifhed fenfe ; w What, and whence art thou, flrange myfterious - JPow'r?" I heard a voice even now on fancy's ear, It feems to vibrate ; and, while life remains, Shall vibrate ever, on my forrowing heart. " I come the afflicted Genius of the Land, " With difmal ridings fraught. Mourn, Erin, mourn ! " Thy nobleft Offspring fhatch'd, th' example bright "Of every virtue, and all honeft praife, " The firft of patriots, and, the beft of men, ** Snatch'd from thee j in thefe vile unhappy times, ( 293 ) When patterns are fo rare, of virtue and of truth. Mourn, rin, mourn! thy CWield. is more." heart-appalling found ! O meffenger of woe 1 The wind in cadence figh'd ; the plains around, The diftant hills, and every vale replied ; " Oh Caulfield is no more ! mourn, Erin, mourn > i Mourn, Erin, mourn ! the patriot foul is fled ; Is fled to heav'n from this atfh&ed land, Oh hearth-appalling found ! O. meflenger of woe !" 1 call'd the Mufe. for folace of my pain, She, fweet companion, often had beguil'd The weary hours ? and fmooth'd the rugged path Of \thorny }ife, but anfwer none rejurn'd. _, No more, with heart-felt {train, to words of .firs. . Tremble the chords. Fancy and vis'rous thought From life's cold dregs recede. This drooping h^art , Weighs down the mental energies ; nor yields A ftrain deferving of the Patriot's name. Yet, what he may, the forrowing Bard fhall give ; Poor off 'ring ! rhymes, that, like my gufhing tear^, Spontaneous flow ; and praifes never won By favours, or by hope. The indignant Mufe, Unproftituted, at the fhrine of Pow'r, And upftart Wealth, when Fortune's Minion, fwoln With fudden honours, rode to Mammon's fane 51 ( 294 ) In tranfitory pomp, and flavifh crowds Wreath'd the vile offering of their venal tongues ; I fpurn'd the little triumph, and referv'd The poet's incenfe, for the Deity, And thofe diftinguifh'd favourites of heav'n, The virtuous few ; to birth and titled things Little devoted. Caulfield's noblenefs, Tho' fprung from a long line of anceftry, Unflain'd and honour'd, Caulfield's noblenefs Was chiefly in himfelf, in heav'n recorded, And not in parchment rolls j blazon'd in deeds And not in vain heraldic pageantry, Of gaudy colours, on the quarter'd field. The heav'n-defcended noblenefs, that dwells. In dignity of mind, in patriot worth, In high purfuits, and bright accompli fhments. Thefe were thy patent, Caulfield, of more worth, Oh ! infinitely more, than all that Kings Can grant, or kingly favourites receive. Inmate, within his manfion dwelt the mufe j And all the Graces harmoniz'd his tongue ; While, from his lips the founds inftru&ive flow'd, And various knowledge join'd with polifiVd fenfe, I knew it well for, I may proudly boaft, That honour'd Caulfield deign'd to call me friend. ( 295 ) Never (hall time from my fad mind erafe The dear remembrance, of the vanifh'd hours, Oh ! never to return, that fled with him, In focial converfe. At his pious hearth, Domeftic houfhold gods, the virtues all, Were ever refident ; and in his mind, As in a facred fhrine, fair honour dwelt, OfF'ring inceflant to the god of truth Pure motives, an unfpotted facrifice.. How few the men, that, in our iron days, Of felfifli groveling, and of cruel rage, Have priz'd and honour'd the negletted mufe, Companion, as me is, of public worth, And all exertions of the exalted mind. But Caulfield lov'd her. His harmonious mind Was not unconfcious of her influence- And (hall he filent reft ? (hall not the mufe, Hang on the willows, that furround his tomb, The tributary verfe , and give a form, And meafur'd cadence, to the general grief, That burfts for Caulfield loft? mourn, Erin,. mourn ! And thou doft mourn how frequent and how loud The groan of anguifti founds, for Caulfield loft ! Big falls the tear ; for thro' thy fertile vales, And giant hills, that proudly mock the Ikies, Was there an eye, that wept not Caulfield loll I ( s 9 <5 ) Or harden'd heart, that felt not ? while he yet Ling'ring on life's laft verge, with parting ftep, Ponder'd his paflage, to a better world ; "While wayward nature, clinging to this earth, Was wreftling with th' angelic meffengers, That waft the juft to God ; ere yet his breaft Had ceas'd to throb, with afpirations high, For Erin's welfare ; ere the ray benign Of mild benevolence, and piercing fenfe, That wont to beam from Caulfield's eye, was funk In (hades of night ; eh how we caught at hope, With felf-delufion fond ! what e'arneft prayers, From pious lips, by every form of faith, Were wing'd to heav'n! and oh! with what reluctance, Did we refign that hope, and in her place, Receive defpair, fad vifitant, to rend The bleeding heartftri'ngs, with the difmal found, *< Mourn, Erin, mourn ! for Caulfield is no more." Never (hall Erin and her fons forget, While fenfe and memory of virtue dwell, In human bofoms, what a mighty debt Of gratitude her Caulfield's patriot zeal Juftly demands, thro' long revolving time, It never can be cancell'd. Ye, who faw, How fiercely beautiful, in dread array, ( 297 ) Spontaneous rofe Hibernia's gailant Sons,* Arm'd to protect their rights, and guard the foil That gave them being, from infulting foes ; When Caulfield led them on. Ye will declare His public merit. "With a powerful charm, His name rever'd, like heavenly raufic dwelt, On every ear ; that rudeft, bafeft, minds "Were touch'd, were elevated, at the found. They learn'd they had a Country ; felt, that virtue Was fomething more than words j that noble minds Might ev'n amidfl: the wretched toil and din, Of this low earth, from God and Man receive The guerdon of their virtue. Oh ! the tears, That pour'd by myriads now bedew his grave, Are of more worth, than oriental pearls. Tho' refllefs calumny and canker'd fpite, For ever waiting, in the hateful train, Of party rage, and bufy at her call, Rang'd thro' the land ; and prey'd with noxious tooth, On proudeft merit, and the fairefl: names ; Yet, fo diftinguifh'd was a Caulfield's worth, Thofe things of darknefs, from its facred light, Shrunk back appall'd. His fair integrity, And pure unquelHon'd motives, ev'n from malice, Rev'rence extorted. Parties all combin'd, Who ne'er combin'd before, in Caulfield's praife* * The Volunteer Aflbciations of Ireland. ( *9* ) After long abfence, with propitious ftep, 1 When Science and the Mufes, hand in hand, Deign'd to revifit this neglected Ifle, Among the nations a degraded name, Degraded for tranfgreffions not her own ; Foremoft of all the learn'd and polifh'd train. That flrove, with liberal and nfeful arts, Or elegant purfuits, to decorate The parent foil, and teach the blefled lore Of mental, proud, enjoyment ; Caulfield (hone. Yes, he was firfl among full many names, Of fame not undeferving, nor unknown, To that mild glory, which in better times Awaits the letter'd toil. A day (hall come, When the wild burft of ftormy war is fpent, For fure this florin at length muft overblow And halcyon calms fucceed, when this fair Ifle, Too long the feat of ignorance and floth, Too long the fcene of fanguinary rage, The blandifhments of that Aonian Maid Shall hear enraptur'd ; and awake her fons, From deep lethean trance, to cultivate The good and fair, and nurfe with pious hand The palm unftain'd with blood, O ! Caulfield, then Some bard may rife, with genius worthy thee. Alludes to the InfUtution of the Royal Irish Acabemy, tinder the auijpices of Lord Cbauimont. ( 299 ) Juft to thy praife, he fhall embalm thy name j And to the fwelling breeze, in rapture borne, Shall words of heav'n refound, and echo learn the fong. Meantime, the cultur'd vales and fliaggy glens, And lofty hills fmote by the fhafts of morn, Deplore their patriot loft ; and all refound, Refponlive to my iighs, that Caulfield is no more. Should ravag'd Italy again refpire, From murderous deeds, and more than gothic rage ; On Tyber's bank fome poet may, for him, Melodious grief awake, for Caulfield's name, Was not unhonour'd, or his fteps unknown, Where Arno flows or Aiding Mincio ftrays ; Nor was he heedlefs of the Tufcan lore, The parted /hades of many a bard arife, Borne on the fweeping blaft, at the fad ftrain. Stern Dante's awful port, the graceful form Of him that Laura* lov'd, and the fweet mute, To fancy deareft, fair Ferrara's child f With him, that fung of Solyma redeem'd ; | * Petrarch. $ Ariofto. J TaiTo. Lord Chariemont had made conOderable pr-ogrefe, in a moft intcrefting Work, an Hiftory of Italian Poetry, to this Work thefe lines alicde. ( ?? ) To celebrate a Gauleield's honoured name, Who felt the claffic fire, and lov'd the beauteous arts. While hoary Manfo * bows the reverend head, That faithful guardian of Torquato's praife. And yet we mourn not Cauleield, for himfelL Not for himfelf, who parted well aiFur'd, Of thofe rewards for virtuous men prepar'd ; And forrowing mark'd, how cheerlefs was the fate Of gentle fpirits, call on iron days, And iron men, amid th' outrageous din Of war and factious hate j when polifh'd art> Are all defpis'd, andjbme accurfed fpell Has conjur'd up the furies of the mind, With blood-ftain'd garments, torch of ftygian flame, And maddening yell, to mix in conflict, dire The human favage. From the hideous fcene, The foul benign full gladly would efcape. What can the virtuous fpirit find in life, To make him prize it ? In fociety, What charm for him ? Oh ! no, he turns away, With deadly loathing ; and for freedom calls, On welcome death, moft willing to depart, And feek th' abodes, where peace and virtue dwell* * Th F liend of Torquato Ta/To. He wrote a Life of that divine Poet. He was known to Milton when he vilited Italy, andiscel*- biated by him in a beautiful Latin poem. ( 3oi ) Oh ! well f know, what gen'rous Caulfield felt, When civil ftrife, with her infernal crew, Defac'd the lov'd parental foil ; and war, With want, and woe, and forrows, in the rear, Spread her alarms around. His patriot foul Could not within its own purfuits retire, Sequefter'd with the fweet abftrafted mufe, Forget the world, with bards of claffic {train, And range, in letter'd eafe, Marino's * fhades. Born for mankind at large, his generous foul Could not the welfare of the whole exclude ; Or lofe th' ifflifting fenfc of human ills, In home enjoyments, or in private good. Yet private goods were his, and home delights, If thefe might wean the foul from public cares, Ev'n to fatiety ; wealth, honours, tafte Refin'd by fcience, general efteem, And fame unenvied, with a fpirit apt For cv'ry pleafure, that conforts with virtue. Nor yet did "public cares eftrange his mind, From mild enjoyments of the focial life, And fo'ft unbendings ; from the tender charms, Of the domeftic hearth He felt and lov'd The endearing charities, that weave the band, Of friendfhip, kindred, and affinity. * The Villa of Lo^d Charlemont near Dublin. ( 3* ) The charm of flowing converfe, and the grace Of playful wit, in the gay feftive hour, Rebounding quick, {hone eminent in him. Benevolent affe&ions, the warm heart, Were his , nor wanted object meet ; for heav'n Beftow'd a partner, worthy of his choice, With heart refponfive, and a kindred foul, In happy union join'd. Her mind improv'd By ufeful knowledge poliih'd fenfe combines, With manners amiable , and, in her life, Shows an example of all female worth, As parent, wife, and filler. She in times, When vice and folly, with too common fway, The progeny of wealth and fafhion lead, Thro' fenfelefs luxury, and wild expence, To infamy and ruin-, fhe could feel Nor blufhed to own fhe felt, religion's force, Parent of refignation, furefl pledge, Of true heroic chriftian fortitude j Alas, how forely tried in that fad hour ! But here, I muft be mute, and fpread a veil, On what no words can paint. In that fad hour, Oh ! Caulfield, while thy pious family, With hands uplifted, to the throne of grace, And heav'nward eyes, implor'd the pow'r fupreme, To call away the meflenger of death, ( 3^3 ) That hover'd round thy head ; Oh ! with what zeal A Nation join'd their pray'rs ! and fure, if goodnefs Might wreft a blefling, from th' Almighty's hand, A blefling had been won ; and length of days, Had crown'd their oraifons. Oh, Providence, How awfully myfterious are thy ways ! Let none repine, or aim, with rafh prefumption, To found the depths of wifdom infinite ! Thou art not gone, for ever : thefe fad eyes, That now bewail thy lofs, may yet behold Caulfield in glory, if I may indulge, Unworthy as I am, th' afpiring hope Of fuch fociety, amid the train, Of honeft men, that lov'd their native foil, 'The virtuous and the juft ; in fcenes remov'd, From human fufferings, and from human crimes. There, the full meafure of his juft reward Attends the good ; and never-fading crowns Adorn .the patriot brow ; nor envy blafts His fame deferv'd, nor human wickednefs, With human folly, mall combine, to foil The wifh benevolent, and pious aim. Erin, meantime, lament thy Caulfield dead, With tears of grief unfeign'd, till thou haft fhown, ( 34 ) To heal the wounds infli&cd by his lofs, And dry thofe tears, a rival of his worth. And we may hope ; for Caulfield's line remains, To give an image of his patriot cares, And private worth, reflected in his fons. His virtues in his children mail furvive ; For well I know, th' example of their Sire, And education, that, with pious hand, Sow'd in the gen'rous foil, of ductile youth, All good inftruclion ; thefe will form their minds. With honour to fuftain the dignity And virtuous eminence of Caulfield's name. ( 3*5 ) HYMN, TO OLD AGE. BY THE SAME. Full many a Bard attunes the firing For Youth, and all it loves to bring, Its graceful forms, its polim'd toys, Delirium fweet, and promis'd joys ; All thefe enchant the tuneful throng, And Youth the feafon is for fong ; Rhyming, 'mid twenty whimfies more, Adds but one folly to the fcore. But mould a Bard, in riper age, Chance to retain poetic rage ; The fole atonement for his rhyme, Which he can make to flighted time, Is, with fome monitory lay, To fing the praife of life's decay : u ( 3 ) Not myrtle bower, not virgin's dream, Nor field of combat, be my theme ; No wreath my fober mufe fhall find, For crimes and follies of mankind : Thy praifes, age, command my voice, And let the theme reward my choice ; Reprefs the fiery pride of Youth, Impart the love of moral truth ; Without regret, I can refign The vanities, which once were mine. Come, age, thy welcome vifit make, I know the journey I muft take ; Come, age, with me a feafon flay, Then fee me friendly on my way ; I hail thy fteps with bofom free, No terrors doll thou bring to me ; For precious gifts thou canft impart, The thinking head, the tranquil heart ; For moral truth 'tis thine to change The dreams of youth, that widely range ; When youthful fun-mine fills the fkies, The morning mifts of paffion rife ; Unbridled love, ambition vain, And hot revenge, and fell difdain, Unbounded hope, and fond belief, Intemp'rate joy, and caufelefs grief; ( 37 ) - That ravifh from the dazzled fight, The heav'nly forms of fair and right. Illufions of intemp'rate heat, In youth abound, in age retreat ; Then, evening blunts the noon-tide ray, And all the phantoms melt away *, We then imbibe a cooler fky, And feel the thirft of pleafure fly ; The thoufand hopelefs, vain, purfuits, The plants that teem with bitter fruits ; When the fierce noon-tide glare is fled, Decline and hang the withering head. Come, age, with influence kind infpire The mild retreating of defire : Declining ftrength, and failing fight, Augmented pain, abridg'd delight j Thefe have no terror, age, for me, They come to fet the fpirit free. Come, welcome, age, but do not bring, The train, that aged bofoms wring , The narrow thought, the carking cares, That bring contempt on hoary hairs * The fpleen morofe, the luft of gold, Sufpicions bafe, that haunt the old, V 2 ( 3* y And fear, with felfifh tremors pale, And vanity, with twice-told tale ; O ! well I know, that in thy train Full oft attend the forms of pain, Difeafes fell, an hideous band, That round the king of terrors Hand ; While, breaking down our prifon walls, The hand of ficknefs heavy falls ; Spare them and let me wear away, With unperceiv'd and mild decay ; Let me not know the pang that rends, An aged mourner from his friends ; Nor yet on Nature's pledges dear, Untimely ravifh'd, fhed the tear ; Nor tempt me, with myfelf at flrife, To curfe the fluggifh dregs of life. Oh ! when th' accomplish' d and the brave, When youth and beauty, feek the grave, Who, this, unmov'd, can hear and fee Then haft thou terrors, age, for me ? Yet, age can boaft peculiar charms, When finking in our childrens' arms ; By thoufand fond attentions footh'd, We find the downward paths fo fmooth'd ; ( 39 ) That fcarcely confcious where they lead, On flow'rets to the grave, we tread ; The calm delights of focial hours, Where every mind expands its pow'rs, The private duty, moral tie, What pleafures they to age fupply ; Beyond what youth and health beftow, The wild exeefs, the vagrant glow. Who can defcribe the pure delight, When childrens' children glad the fight ? What tranfport for our age is ftor'd, When tender olives grace the board ? Each look benign, each accent kind, Each aft, that fpeaks expanding mind ; Each prelude of fome manly part, * y Heav'ns 1 how they thrill a parent's heart \ Kind age, all thefe attend on thee, And, fure, no terrors bring to me , From me while youthful fpirits poft, They are but lent, not wholly loft ; I fee them in my children live, New pleafure, thus, return'd they give, > I mingle with the joyous train, And in their fports am young again ; ( 3" ) Around my knees, they fondly crowd, With hearts elate, and gaily loud ; Nor meet a word, or look, fevere, To mingle filial love with fear : If fuch delights re fide with thee, Thou haft no terrors, age, for me. Come wearied Nature's fure repofe, Our noify drama's peaceful clofe, The hope of better life expands, I hail the glimpfe of diftant lands j Away with forrow, pain, and flrife, And all that can embitter life ; With life they come, with life they end, At thy approach, thou common friend, Fled are the forms that broke our fleep> And bade us 'wake to figh and weep i Thy gentle making of the frame, To flu ruber lulls the vital flame, 'Till, like an infant, footh'd to reft, We fink upon the maker's breaft. ( 3" ) EPISTLE A FATHER TO HIS SONS. $Y THE SAME. Despising themes, that catch the public eye, The daily flanders, that are bom to die, The felfilh plaudits, that are bought and fold, And fpeak the boundlefs worth, of power and gold, The mufe expatiates o'er the mental plain, And feeks a fubjea for the free-born (train. Firft at my heart, for ever in my eyes, The fweet ideas of my Children rife, Far nobler theme my Boys, content and health, Than titled meannefs and exuberant wealth. In childhood blamelefs, in the unfullied mind, I boaft, for once, a fanltlefs theme to find. ( &w ) How long, my Children, fhall that boaft be given ? Ye bear no traces, now, but marks of heaven. Fair as creation, dawning from its God, Ere Death and Sin the walks of Eden trod, As yet, my Boys, your fpotlefs minds difplay The Maker's touches, the celeftial ray ; What things unhallow'd an abode may find, Within the paradife of blamelefs mind ! How foon the mortal foes of good and fair, May (ling the confcious heart with guilt and care ; How foon, alas ! the raging mental ftorm, May print the features, and the foul deform ! While yet the profpecT: is fo fair and bright, Let me enjoy the vifion of delight ; Here, boundlefs flattery no contempt fhall move, Here, partial prejudice may virtue prove ! Yet, though the prefent with fuch charms is fraught, It cannot chafe the future from my thought j No the fond mufe anticipates the time, When you, my Children, fhall perufe this rhyme When, cold the breaft, that for your welfare glows, And clos'd that eye, where love paternal flows ; When of your Father verfe alone remains, If, haply, Time fhall fpare fome fav'rite ftrains ; Then if my Sons, from feflive noife and fport, Should fleal an hour, and to my tomb refort, ( 3*3 ) As o'er my duft, fraternal, hand in hand, With heads inclin'd in penfive mood you ftand, My Children, then, may heave a figh, and fay The frame, that here returns to parent clay, " Once held a heart, with fond unwearied zeal, Warm for our fame, and anxious for our weal ; " And ftill, perhaps, with fond enquiring eyes, " Our Father's made around his Children flies." It will, my Sons, if parted fhades retain A care of thofe that bide in earthly pain : At leaft, believe it ; think your Father near j His warning voice in hours of trial hear ; Think how he lov'd you, nor his quiet wound, By deed irrev'rent, or ungentle found ; Thus, may my cares beyond the grave extend ; In life the Father, ev'n in death the Friend, Attend, my children, while your years demand, The kind controul of a reftraining hand ; Ye may not learn, 'till time has blanch'd your hair, The mighty value of parental care, That care, defpifed or hated in the hour, Of dangerous novelty's feduttive pow'r : Yet you, I trull, may pace the downward flage, When mellow'd manhood ripens into age ; Then fober reafon mall afTume the throne, And wake, and watch, for children of your owe ( 3H- ) If any worth my wakeful cares may claim* If heav'n fhould profper the parental aim, In fair example, or imparted truth, If ye fhould feel the Father of your youth, Indulgent heav'n has to my Sons fupply'd The mighty bleffing, to their Sire deny'd. Whate'er I am, my mind fpontaneous grew, No fathers forming care my childhood knew Forbear, my thanklefs and irrev'rent tongue ; Forget the father ; be the mother fung. Difeafe and fufP rings mark'd my tender age, A mother's cares afluag'd their cruel rage ; How many nights fhe watch'd around my bed ! How many tears maternal fondnefs med ! When nature falter'd 'twixt my life and death, Her pious prayers redeem'd my forfeit breath ; If life is good 'twas hers that life to fave, If ill the means of bearing ill fhe gave ; Guided by her, my little footfteps trod, The paths that early led me to my God. * O facred fountain of eternal truth ! Prcferve th' impreffions of my early youth ; For, oft in hours, when woes aflail the mind, Their bled efFe&s with grateful heart I find ; And oft thy influence, with fuflaining power, Has arm'd my foul againft the afflictive hour ; ( 3i5 ) Mortals may frown, and Fortune aim her rod, I feel th' infpiring prefence of my God ; Each anxious thought it calms, my fpirit fills, And leaves no chafm for human fear or ills. Oh ! may my Children early learn to feel, The heav'n-ward hope and the religious zeal ; Oh ! teach me fo to guide their little feet, That foon their fteps may reach thy mercy feat. Great is the precept that example gives A lefTon to the Son the Father lives ; Cenfure may fix, on talents mifapply'd, Aukward referve, or folitary pride ; Yet, when the volume of my life they trace, My Sons, will read no maxims of difgrace ; Yes to my Sons I leave a fpotlefs name, And vanity would add a Poet's fame j The fpotlefs name preferve with pious care, Of fame poetic, O my Sons, beware ! It funk your Father in the jaundic'd ken, The fordid eftimate of little men : I might have been but why with thanklefs mind Revolve the bleflings that my ftars alngn'd ? My pureft pleafures to the mufe I owe ; My happiefl hours in tuneful labours flow. Hope and dependence were alike unknown } Myfelf my patron, and my mufe my owrj. ( 3** ) I calmly pafs, without a wifh or fear, A gracelefs B or an upftart peer ; New to the tafk of panegyric lays, Not ev'n a Newcome wins the fong of praife. ' In filence I revere the fainted aim, The modeft virtues, and the letter'd fame. Fool that I am, I from afar defcry A P 's fhame, and (hallow perfidy, Mark, how he filch'd a ftar, or crib'd a place, And fcorn the meannefs of his little Grace. But why fhould wretches burfl upon my pen, I wifh. to write of innocents, or men. The mufe adopts a Father's wakeful fears, And warns my Children in their tender years.- All forms of life are open to your choice, But truft, my Sons, my monitory voice ; Let truth and virtue be your guiding flars, 'Mid war's wild ravage and domeftic jars. I yet may hope, fhould heaven my days extend, And you, my Children, your affiftance lend, To fee you rife, in manly virtues tried, Ev'n to the wifh of fond parental pride. Oh ! could you know, my Children, could you feel, How this fond heart throbs, anxious for your weal. ( 3 r 7 ) Were prudence dumb, were other duties fled, Yet gratitude triumphant, in their Head, Would fill your bofoms, with an a&ive fire, And make you all my warmefl: vows defire. Let love fraternal fill the tender mind ; Tho' fortune fep'rate, be your fouls combin'd ; "With perfeverance meet the worldly ftrife, And buoy each other, as you fail through life ; Tho' cares and dangers in the tempefr, rave, With open breafl: repel the troubled wave ; Let friendship's ties and nature's bonds combine, And heart with heart, and fate with fate, entwine. In ev'ry ftation, and in ev'ry ftage, From fanguine youth to difappointed age, Your filial rev'rence let your Mother fhare, For well her love deferves your pious care ; Be it, at once, your pleafure and your praife, To gleam contentment on her latter days. I cannot hope, nor does my fondeft hour, Defire for you the baubles, wealth and power j Yet, fhould dame Fortune's wild capricious play In worldly pomp a Poet's Sons array, Let not your trappings infolence impart, Or noxiou fumes intoxicate the heart j ( 3'8 ) Still in your hearts retain the words of heav'n, The length of days to filial duty given. In real kindnefs, but in feeming hate, Should fortune doom you to fome humble fate, To rugged paths, that pious Hooker trod, To painful duties of the man of God ; Still let your Parent fhare your little ftore, Prevent her wifhes, and her wants explore. Thus, on your little fhall a bleffing wait, That, even in want, abundance may create ; Such, as of old, the widow's cruife fupply'd, Such, as is now, to greedy gold deny'd. Let no falfe aims, with fpecious colours fraught, Warp the tribunal of the confcious thought. Why mould you envy, who trick'd out by fate, Struts in the pageant of this mortal ftate ? What are his trappings but the varied coat, In life's proceffion that the herald note ? Herald, that baniftiment to worth proclaims, Rewards to follies, and to felfifh aims, And fortune's cruel fport, her ficklenefs and fliames , ) The ncify pageant clofing at the grave, Impartial death difrobes the flrutting flave. Tho' Themis' bench mould groan with burthens vile, Or hands impure the facred lawn defile ; 1 ( 3*9 ) Let not thefe objects wake an envions care, Who envy bafeaefs, in that bafenefs fhare. Seek for fupport, in the felf-center'd mind; Nor lean upon that broken reed, mankind , Truft, not profeffions, they are all a cheat, Diftruft the world, but chief, diftruft the great. Let not kind glance, or the familiar fmile, With air-built fchemes believing youth beguile *, Sell not the golden quiet of your days, For that fallacious empty bauble, praife. Look through the world behold the men of name, Who braving infamy, can find a fame. TTeroic meeknefs fhall fuftain your youth, That heavenly offspring of religious truth. March on erecl, mark with unalter'd ken, The frowns and blandifhments of Tittle men. The precepts of difhonour courts afford, Th' unmanly tricks that make 01 pleafe a lord. Be firm and virtuous truft: my warning rhymes, Far different fcenes approach, and different times, When rugged virtues yet may bear a price, And honour lord it o'er defpotic vice ; With equal rights Aftrea fhall return, No more, in vain, the free-born flame fhall burn ; ( l* ) No more mall honefty be made the fport Of tinfel'd vermin flutt'ringin a court; No more mail pride, ambition, or caprice, Bid guiltlefs myriads bleed for kingly vice. Thefe happy days, my Children yet may fee ; Far different from the days ordain'd for me. What cruel fate referv'd a man of rhymes, For thefe ungentle and untuneful times ? The rage of warfare and its direful train, Terror, and care, and poverty, and pain, Difeafe and famine march in dire array, And gloom defpondence on th' eventful day. Jn each abode the hand of power is found, In every ear th* alarms of war refound; The ftormy times nor age nor ftation fpare, But fummon all, to fuffer and to dare. A land unletter'd, and an iron-age, The harden'd fpirit fejfifh aims engage. No feafon this for gay poetic dreams, No place to mufe befide th' Aonian ftreams. Scar'd by the lufl of gold and martial ftrife, ATe all the foft purfuits and ornaments of life. Ere yet my Children rife to manly age, They may be furamon'd to th' eventful ftage, ( 32i ) That all the energies of mind inflames, And mighty crimes, or mighty virtues claims. What parts to you, my Boys, fhall be affign'd, In this great drama of the human kind, To him is known, who firft infus'd your breath, Who keeps the iflues of your life, and death. But aft it well, whate'er may be your talk, And never ftoop to act beneath a mafk. Ye do not iflue, from the cells obfcene Of fordid parentage, and profpedts mean. Ye mail not need, to join the reptile brood, Of aims, as bafe and fordid, as their blood ; That win their crooked way, by many a wile, And bafk and wriggle in a great man's fmile. Ye fhall not need, to be the wretched things, That bafely fell themfelves to lords and kings. From tender infancy, your Father's love Shall fordid things, and guilty founds remove; His reverential care fhall form your youth, To chafte regard, of order, and of truth. As priefts, that tend fome temple's holy fpace, Each found obfcene, and thing polluted chafe , So, may I keep the temples of your mind J Recefles pure, where godhead dwells enfhrin'd. So, may my Sons, with modeft worth endu'd, With virtuous pride, and temp'rate fortitude., X ( 3*3 ) Behold poor greatnefs with undazzlcd ken, And keep their ilation in a race of men ! So, may their gen'rous bofoms, ftill be fraught, With every virtuous aim, and: noble thought, The laws and fan&ions on the foul impreft, The juft tribunal of the confeious breaft ! Born, in the dregs of this unworthy age, Too cold my bofom, for the noble rage, That times corrupt, and public wrongs demand, That dares to vindicate a fufPring land ; The patriot flame lies fmould'ring in my mind, To filent pray'rs, and fruitlefs fighs confin'd ; But, well I know it, for your youthful prime, Events are ripening in the Womb of time, Then, reafon fhall exult, in giant ftrength ; And prejudice extend her fnaky length ; Subdued, exhaufted, by full many a wound, The monfler falls the victors fhout around. From all the train, loud Io Paeans rife ; And gratulations fill the gladfome fkies ; The voice of freedom runs from fhore to more ; And bigotry and difcord are no more. The guilty genius, that delighted dwells, In ftatefrnens' clofets, or in monkiih cells, Deferts the foil, with more than mortal pangs, And breaks his fcorpion whip, and iron fangs. ( 3*3 ) Q D E to OBSCURITY. BY THE SAME. I. Oh thou, whofe reign with chaos dread, In majefty co-equal and coeval foread. In mift: and clouds expanded wide, Silence and darknefs at your fide, , Amidif the cheerlefs realms of night, The germ of things were all your own ; Ere yet the unwelcome glare of light And order fmote that anarch's throne. Confufion faded through the gloom, Creation bounded from the tomb, While thou and chaos fought to fly The great Creator'* hand, the vaft ali-feeing eye. X2 ( 324 ) II. Ye heard, with no delighted ear, Cherubic fymphonies, that, wafted foft and clear, Purfue'd, in undulating ftreams, Th' expanfive flood of folar beams. " Depart, ye progeny of hell, " Along the turbid whirlwind fweep" One lafl defpairing yell Refounded thro' the toiling deep. With ceafelefs aim, ye flrive to gain Some portion of your old domain ; And ftill, beneath your old command Recall the beauteous forms of God's creative hand. III. Conjoin'd on earth, ye feek to bind, And in fome favour'd fpots triumphant hide ; Ye ftill delight, to fix the throne, Where pride your influence wou'd difown, Ierne's mill and lazy fen Allur'd thee, in her pitchy air, i To 'ftablifh thy parental den, And make her fons thy chofen care, From genius far, and far from fame, From tow'ring hope and gen'rous aim ; And thee and chaos ftill we find Supreme in Bestia's rude, and monfler-teeming mind. ( 325 ) IV. How much of paft bows to thy throne, Stern, fullen, pow'r ! and all the future is thy own. The funs for other worlds that Ihine, And many a wand'ring orb are thine. Natives of regions unexplor'd, And hies unbofom'd in the deep, With thee the pride of many a lord, And deeds of ancient warriours deep, The Lapithas, and Centaurs old, The manners of that age of gold. Thine, many a fage's heav'nward thought, And many a tuneful bread, with fweet delirium fraught. V. Thine many a nymph, that in her hour Refplendent fhone with beauty's magic pow'r ; Ere wanton Helen's fatal charms, Conjur'd the kings of Greece in arms. Thine Pindar's dithyrambic (train, That echo'd thro' the vaults above ; It foar'd an eagle flight, in vain, To reach the ftarry courts of Jove. Half Sapho's loves to thee belong, And thine is all the Alcaic fong. Vain hope of bards, that in their time Have proudly aim'd to build th' immortal rhyme. ( 3** ); VI. Tho' confcious pride inform'd the foul, How have their labours funk beneath thy drear controujt* Where now the wreath fo proudly worn, Th' acclaim of ages yet unborn ? The bard, to freedom's caufe devote, That fought the Marathonian plain, Attemper'd to the trumpet's note That pour'd the bold gigantic ftrain, How fmall a part of him we fee Preferv'd from ruthlete time and thee I Tyrteus' fong could martial fire infufe, Yet, darkling, now it fleeps, with Solon's moral mufe. VII. Full many a fam'd hiftorians page, That ftrove to match from thee the mute and diftantage; Unequal conteft, feels thy power, When reinfore'd by many an hour ; Thy hand, with force refiftlefs raifi'd, Mock'd all his eloquence and (kill, Confounded what he blam'd and prais'd, The forms of human good and ill i Then chaos fmil'd, and to the cell Confign'd, where ancient fages dwell, Then nature's workings aim'd to view^ With all the Brachmans taught, and myfUc Memphis knew. ( 327 ) viir. The torch of favage Omar fpread Thy mould'ring triumphs o'er the mighty dead, Diffufing round its murky light ; The fire of genius funk in night. Then perifh'd half the claffic throng, Hiftorians, fages, tuneful train, The nobleft boafts of Grecian fong, All funk for ever in thy reign. Thine too is many a cob-weVd flail, Where learned lumber hides the wall ; Dulnefs and dull untroubled deep, And bloated fpiders there, and lazy gownmen creep. IX, The favage Omar, fpite of thee, Recorded flands thro' time, in deathlefs infamy. Whate'er deferv'd immortal name Perifh'd, to found his barb'rous fame. The fecond *** too was thine, Who nobly fcorn'd the Roman maids j And flill, his hatred of the Nine Informs the mind the tafle degrades 3 The labours of the tuneful train Are confecrated now to gain j They rife, the meteors of a day, Then calmly fink to reft, beneath thy leaden fway. (-328 ) X. Unfold thy veil, nnfold it wide, And all my youthful faults, and venial follies hide ; The hours to raving rhuming giv'n, The charms that rob my foul of heav'n. Come, if thou canft, erafe the form, That ftill with fweet delirium fills ; ! come, allay the mental florm, That fhakes me with ideal ills : Make ev'ry hope and wifh to ceafe, Make all a blank, and call it peace. Mira, too long my foul is full of thee, Come, bleft Oblivion, come, and bring me liberty, XI. Come, reconcile me to my flate j Adapt my mufings to my dark inglorious fate, While cafl on this Boeotian plain, 1 (hare the fullnefs of thy reign ; Thy chilling influence let me own ; Th' expanfive efforts of the foul Degrade, embrute, and tread me down ; With damps th' etherial flame controul > Thus let me to the level fink, Of thofe who live to eat and drink In life's fequefler'd vale and low, A ling' ring fedgy ftream let noifelefs being flaw. ( 329 ) XII. If I may fing, without a crime, Thou lov'ft th' Iernian air beyond each other clime. There undifturb'd thy reign, and wide ; And apathy is at thy fide, And felf-conceit, of folly bred, With copious influence fills the race, And genius is with learning fled, But vulgar cunning holds their place. The common herd, the fenfual fty, The mufes mock, and fame decry, Ingulf'd, concenter'd all in felf, And proftrate, all adore the beftial fhrine of pelf. XIII. I fee thee (talk along the foil, And mark the bufy crowds, that now like emmets toil : I hear thee, from thy mifty throne, Exclaim, " Thefe myriads are my own." And furely, at no diftant day, Shall they be gather'd to thy fhrine ; With Bacchus, to promote thy fway, While floth and gluttony combine. How little worthy future life, In private aims, or public ftrife. And wherefore do I raife the fong ? Obscurity, to thee, the bard and verfe, belong. ( 33? ) XIV. Thine influence now let Europe fhare ; Never was age or clime more worthy of thy care, O ! come, beneath thy fober reign, Reduce the politics of Paine. Veil the difgrace that fpreads fo wide, Ferocious Frederick's idle threat ; The ftatefman's crooked counfels hide, The foe victorious in defeat, Conceal, from wounds no more to clofe Impreft by jealous fear, how freedom's life-blood flows* ( 33* ) O N G. * BY THE SAME. Come bufs me, dear Moll, and be prudifh no more, Why always, of honour and modefty, prating ? Old fport-fpoiling Time, will match from us this hour, While how we (hall ufe it, like fools, we're debating. This Time is a fcandalous, fufty old-maid, Not a man, as by lye-monger poets 'tis painted ; Thro' pride, what fhe long'd to do, ftill me delay'd, 'TTill old-age came, foufe, and her market prevented. And now to make mifchief, for ever, fhe'll roam, Shed hope's faireft bud, e'er to pleafure 'tis blown j And e'er we can fay, that this minute is come, Hey ! prefto," fays Time we look round, and 'tis gone. ( 332 } 'Gainfl the common invader, let's both take the field, That felonioufly comes, on our pleafures to prey ; With love for our lance, and with mirth for our fhield, Tho' unable to conquer, we'll keep her at bay. Ceafe, then, my dear Molly, be prudifh no more, Heav'n wills not, that mortals unhappy fhould be j Obey, then, my fair-one, the will of that pow'r, That made thee for pleafure, as pleafure for thee. We'll laugh, my dear creature, we'll live and we'll love, Are the old and the ugly, fit patterns for you ? While they pray, whine and fart, for a heav'n above, The fair and the witty, can make one below. { 333 ) ANOTHER. BY THE SAME. The moon diffus'd her penfive light, O'er river, vale, and grove , Young Damon hail'd the queen of night, With tender tales of love. Sabina, lovely, wild, unkind, Sabina, young and gay ; With tender anguifh thrilTd his mind, With rapture filTd his lay. Defpair, at length, his bofom fill'd, And all his foul was woe ; No more," he cry'd, with anguiih wild, " Her fatal charms I'll view." ( 334 ) " A figh, a tear, perhaps ihe'U give, * When I, no more mall be ; u A wretch, thou friendly flream, receive, " And end my woes and me." While thus he fpake, his flarting eye, Was charg'd with fell intent ; And to the flream, that glided nigh, His defporate courfe he bent. " Stay, Damon, whither wouldft thou flee ?*- Sabina ran and cry'd ; For, clofe behind an aged tree, She heard how Damon figh'd. She figh'd into her Damon's ear, Her love fo long conceal'd ; She heal'd each fondly anxious care, Each idle doubt difpell'd. ( 335 ) PARAPHRASE, ON *ART OF THE SEVENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL. BY W. P. Friend. While thy green years purfued with idle aim* The fleeting phantom of poetic fame ; Replete with many a charm, and many a wile, Thro' Syren rocks and the Circaean Ifle j The warning voice was vain, to witlefs youth, But added years, and pain, may feel its truth. The cares and forrows printed on thy brow, Thy head declining, with a weight of fnow ; Thy hopes and profpetts running alj to wafte, May own that verfe is fooltfhnefs at laft j ( 33* ) That deadly blights attend Aonia's dew, More pois'nous far, its laurel, than the yew ; For pain, and fcorn, and poverty, invade Th' incautious man that flumbers in its fhade. Why wert thou tempted, with Icarian flight, To rife, advent'rous, to the fource of light ? "Where raptur'd feraphs tune th' etherial fhell, Where forms eternal of the beauteous dwell ; Thy treach r rous pinions fcatter'd, wide, in air, Deep art thou plung'd in oceans of delpair ; Swell not, again, the trump of epic fong, Nor call, in fable weeds, the gliding throng, Whofe fates, ennobled by the Grecian ftage, In tuneful bolbms wake poetic rage. What are the fruits of all thy life's proud aim ? To toil for glory, and to find it fhame. Go pile the hearth with faggots let them blaze, The fun'ral ftructure of thy darling lays ; Or, deep entomb thy labours, in a chert, Retreat of fpiders, worms, and moths, to feaft. Ere gen'ral apathy on genius frown'd, The Poet's praife a ready market found : Then Hocks and Hones had ears, for polifh'd fong, And dedications charm' d the titled throngs While favour'd verfe, a two-fold hunger fed, With praife the patron's, and the bard's with bread ; ( 337 ) The dews of flatt'ry could a meal afford, And lent exiftence to fome namelefs lord : But fuch the fpirit of our Gothic times, Ev'n lordly littlenefs is proof to rhymes ; And fplendid poverty will fcarce allow, The barren tribute of a courtly bow : For Orpheus' lyre, tho' flocks and ftones had ears, Hope not applaufe from fenators and peers j To them no mufic like the charming ftrain, Of Hear him" Hear him" or of "Seven's the main." Would'ft thou in age and poverty repent, The mighty lavifh of thy years mifpent ? Who deals in verfes, drives, with idle hand The unthrifty plough, along the barren land ; Who feeds on laurel finds it better food, Infufing poifon thro' the vital flood. Shake off the mufe ; and try, while ftrength remains, The manual arts that lead to honeft gains. Ye famifh'd bards, attend to hunger's call, And ftain no paper, but to hang a wall ; In fountains there, and groves, and temples, fport, And thus your works may be receiv'd at court. A waggon drive, or delve the ftubborn field, Or, ftill more gen'ral tafk, a mufket wield ; For, commerce loft, and hufbandry decay'd, With taxes crufh'd, war, war, is all our trade ; Y ( 338 ) Behold the rocks, that ftream with noble blood { What mangled corfes choak the crimfon flood. What piercing clamours fill the troubled air, From fruftrate vengeance, terror, and defpair \ What flaughter'd crowds the dire refult abide, Of regal follies, and of feudal pride ! And thou, no more the hopelefs viclim pine, Of banifh'd Phoebus, and th' exploded nine, Defpis'd adherent of a ruin'd caufe, The Quixote champion of fubverted laws ; An emigrant from wifdom's fair domain, As mad and hopelefs as the Gallic train, Go, feek in death the remedy of Pain. Or, doft thou feel an eager thirft for gold, Explore the (hops, where evidence is fold, For fpies and witnefTes the times demand, When profecutions thunder thro' the land. As Bofwell, all he heard and faw records, A filch of looks, a larcener of words, A flave who lurch'd, with aim infidious fraught, To rob his mefs-mates, of each fecret thought ; Whate'er you hear and fee, and ten times more, Preferve, repeat, and turn to golden ore. Scorn the vain echoes of poetic fame ; And learn to thrive on profitable fhame. 1 ( 339 ) The mufe's livery on the modern plan, Is the fole livery that degrades the man. For hadft thou fprung by dex'trous crime, or luck, Obfcene, and reeking from the dunghill's muck, Unblufhing pander, fenatorian crimp, In form, a porter ; and in foul, a pimp ; Had fortune's worft caprice ordain'd thy lot, The wealth, the ftate, the luxury, of ****. Wert thou the vileft of the human race, A cheat, like Semphill, or like ******** bafe-; Thou (halt afcend, upon thy bags of gold, Where all the honours of a land are fold ; For, ev'n the ermin'd honours of a land, Are fometimes fold, with facrilegious hand. Poet. Yet felf-conceit eflays her treach'rous fkill, And pride would whifper, " Be a Poet ftill " The laurell'd portrait and the lean reward, That late pofterity affigns the bard, The meagre lines, ftrong mark'd by nature's hand, In living marble (hall hereafter ftand- Friend. Are thefe thy hopes ? can fuch unenvy'd fate Redeem the fufT rings of thy pre&nt ftate I y 2 ( 34 ) Why wafte thy foul, and fame, with anxious zeal, For praifes, which obtain'd, thou (halt not feel ? For know, my friend, while thefe faftidious times, The living poet ftarve, and fcorn his rhymes ; With keen refearch, they feek the trafti that bears The facred flat, of revolving years ; And rake the dull, with antiquarian rage, For Grub-ftreet rhymers of a diflant age. Luxurious Britain ! 'mid thy wild expence, Thy taftelefs joys, and vain magnificence ; Tell me, abode of all that's mean and great, Prolific parent, of the fage, and cheat ; Why was a Prieflley banifh'd from thy fhore, The prelate's lawn, when furious Horfely wore ? From the fly courtier, to th' imperial throne, What friend, what patronage, do letters own ? Poet. The bell of friends. The fov'reign of our ifles, The drooping mufe fuflains, with cheering fmiles ; And royal bounty plumes her flagging wing, To reach the glories of a patriot king. A king, who reigns in ev'ry fubject heart, Friend of the mufes, and each lib'ral art ; As bounteous as the fun, with gen'rous hand, Diffufing light and pleafure, thro' the land. ( 34i ) Propitious aera to the tuneful Nine, How have they flourifh'd under Brunfwick's line ? Friend. What ! Thou afpire to fhare the royal grace ! So weak thy claim, pre-occupied the place ! For Jerningham with foporific lay, Befieges Berwick all a fummer's day, While, on one leg, the matter's ear to charm, Our new Tyrtaeus pipes his war alarmj Nor ev'n the fturdy Sheridan difdains, To pour the dew of panegyrick (trains. Poet. Yet, will I look for brighter days to come, In him, the fecond hope of mighty Rome ; And, while his deeds a theme poetic give, The drooping mufe his bounty (hall revive ; Not his, the lavifh, which has never bought, The confcious pleafure, of a virtuous thought j While toil-worn peafants find that lavifh fteal, Some little comfort from their fcanty meal ; As 'mid the pelting of the ruthlefs ftorm, The cheering brand they feek, or raiments warm, Th' exulting mufe, with warmeft hope, furveys, The princely promife of the riling days ; ( 342 ) How oft, angelic, will his aid defcend, To heal the pangs, that widow'd bofoms rend i Tho' rage of pleafure, fometimes, fill'd the mind, While fick'ning art on nature's wants refin'd ; Yet Hill, my friend, the princely foul would need, Th' exalted pleafure of fome virtuous deed. Genius is nurtur'd, by his large expence, And arts, that wound not decency and fenfe ; A juft magnificence, not lavifh wafte, It marks the mind of elegance and tafte , Amid thofe halls, like Caefar's dome of old, With mirrors pannell'd and emblaz'd with gold, Lo ! grateful genius breaths the courtly air, See virtue's venerable form repair ; Lo I bards and fages, fly where bounty calls, And living pencils breathe along the walls. Friend. Canft thou, when all, to fing his praife, confpire, Hope for diftin&ion to thine humble lyre ? Too fmall thy ftature, for the mighty crowd, Too weak thy carrol, for the Poeans loud. No, rather hafte, if thy defire be gain, Where drunken orgies aflc a fong obfcene ; Where impious mirth, is hurl'd againft the fkies, And decency and God alike defies. ( 343 ) Ah ! no yet ftill-th.' unfettled foul is caught, With vain fuggeftians of romantic thought $ Thy notions, all, to times remote belong, Exploded reveries of claflk fong. r Poet. The generous bard, difiinguifh'd from the train, That pours no vulgar, proftituted, ilrain j Nor, bafely, crouches to the little proud, Nor feeks poor plaudits, from th' unletter'd crowd j But bears, fuperior to the prefent doom, A fpirit confcious of the days to come ; The genuine offspring of celeflial line, Whofe powers we feel, but never can define ; Rifes fuperior to the prefent fcorn, And hears the praife of myriads, yet unborn. - Friend. Well be it fo what fubjedl: wilt thou chufe ? What theme deferving of a free-born mufe ? Poet. Satire, perhaps Friend. Tho' thefe corrupted times Invite the touch, fevere, of cauftic rhymes ; ( 344 ) Far, far, is fatire, from the land remov'd, ' That furly guardian, by the virtues lov'd ; The callous heart, which fometimes felt, of yore, Is touch'd and fham'd, by ridicule, no more , In manners foft, in nature hard as fteel, Without an head to think, or heart to feel ; Glaz'd o'er, by cold refinement's hollow froft, Th' efTential traits of character are loft. Fear, affectation, fafhion, and grimace, Gives a falfe varnifh, and a common face, And vainly, wit, her fhining falchion draws, When modifh vice becomes a public caufe ; The giant crimes, that ftalk in open noon, Find truth a libel, fatire a lampoon ; The hoary lechers and adult'rous wives, If print, perchance, difplay their pi&ur'd lives, How virtue ftartles, at the loofe details, What pious rage th' immodeft bard alTails ; They cannot trace, not they, poor fimple elves, In thofe details, a portrait of themfelves ! With Masvius, Curio joins, in one accord, The blafled foldier, and the gracelefs lord ; From prurient thorns, to weed Pieria's plain, And teach the mufe a dully decent ftrain. Friend. Yet fatire 'raid this apathy furvives, And fly, fardonic, mirth, to Peter gives. ( 345 ) And ftill Pursuits of Literature abound, To wing the flvafts of claffic ce'nfure round. Poet, But Pindar's mufe, alas ! with harpy aim, On, prefent, profit falls, and, prefent, fame j Nor feeks a being, in the days to come, Nor prizes plaudits, of a future Rome ; O ! monument of genius run to wafle ! O ! living inftance of perverted tafte ! A meal and coat, to him, are more than praife, The fatirift, and fatire, of our days ; With talents born to reach an height fublime, The Bookfellers, alone, infpire his rhyme ; The modeft ear, decorum, oft he wounds, And time, and place, and decency, confounds ; Not the grave cenfor, but th* envenom'd foe, Intemp'rate rage his ribbald railings {how What ufeful leflbn to the giddy throng ? What moral precept, dignifies the forig ? A tiger's fury, in a monkey's fhape, Mangles the man, and lets the crime efcape. Friend. Well, be more grave, and ambufh'd in the dark, Th' unguarded prey, with aim infidious mark ! ( 34<5 } Thy name, alone, with caution, be conceaPd, Thy rank and ftation, in broad hints, reveal'd ; Courtiers alike, and democrats, defy, And ihow thy zeal, for Greek and loyalty. All ranks, all feels, the copious theme, afford, From college pedants, to the mitred lord. Poet. What ! imitate the wretch, of canker'd mind, Who wears a mafk, and ftabs at all mankind ? While, fcorpion-like, a dark envenom'd thing, The coward only quits his hole, to fling ; Th' o'er-weening pedant, vomits forth his gall, Secure in fecrecy, the foe of all - y And rufhes forth, vindictive war to wage, For church and ftate, with more than holy rage What ! imitate the flave of proud conceit, The {hallow mind with airy vifions cheat ; In fond felf-love, like vain NarchTus, pine, And think the palms of verfe, and learning, mine !- Forbid it heav'n ' no I would fooner chufe, The bald productions, of fome purblind mufe ; To pen loofe prologues, for a private play, And rhyme the mufhroom tattle of the day ; Friend. And let me tell you, if your mod'rate aim, Be courtly readers, and a prefent fame ; . ( 347 ) Such are the models fuited to the time, The flimfy archetypes of eafy rhyme ; Let fmutty equivoque adorn the fong, Charade and pun, amufe the female throng ; Ladies and lordlings, then, fhall lifp your lines, Tho' their poor author in a garret pines ; And, wond'rous favour, to an humble bard, A chair at readings, be your proud reward. With wits, male, female, epicene, and common, The foldier feminine, the mankind woman ; Age, affe&ation, impotence, and fpite, All human reptiles that both fling and bite. Poet. Are thefe the things whofe plaudits are my aim ? Are thefe the mighty arbiters of fame ? Is it for this that bards renounce the hope, Of eafe and comfort, and negletted mope While fcanning fyllables, and weighing words, Sleep flies their couch, and famine haunts their boards r Oh fhame oh Ihame ! tho' deaf to wifdom's cry, Pride fhall redeem me, from fuch flavery But tow'ring high, with oriental ftate, The fpacious theatre unfolds its gate, Where the long pageant, the vaft ftage difplays, Where tinfel glitters, and where luftres blaze ; ( 348 ') At random thrown, to tempt my wand'ring eye, The comic maflc, and tragic bufkin lie. Here I may thrive, or dreams, my fancy lure, The talk feems eafy, and the profit fure. The Laws of Lombardy my claim allow, And Percy leaves a laurel for my brow. What, tho' the mufe her progeny furveys, Howards and Settles of thefe modern days, Mores, Cowleys, Merrys, Whitehead, Greathead, Jephfon j At leaft acknowledged as an humble ftep-fon, I may inherit from the tragic dame, A child's provifion of productive fame. Tho' Rabbi Cumberland, with ftern regard, And circumcifion threats an upftart bard, KeeiFe, Inchbald, Richardfon, no rivals mean, Cobbe, Colman, Reynolds, Morton, fill the fcene. Yet, Such Things Are, and haply I may be The favour'd child of Notoriety. The managers will, fure, that aid afford, Delufive hope had promis'd from a lord ; And give my weary age ibme calm retreat, Where, fick of rhyming, I may laugh and eat. Friend. p Your profe harmonious, flowing is your verfe, Your tragic vain fublime, your humour terfe ; ( 349 ) Elate with hope, three months fequefter'd toil, Arrange your incidents, refine your ftile ; The play complete ; your fancy, with delight, Foreruns the profits of an author's night ; Tranfcribe the fcenes, and feek, with eager hafte, The proud dictators of the public tafte. Oh fool ! to think thy poor plebeian pen Should draw the notice of fuch mighty men ; Defpotic Harris, Kemble unpolite, Himfelf a mufe ! oh ! moft advent'rous wight ! Dare you to hope the notice of the town, Yourfelf, your manners, and your mufe, unknown ; Stranger alike to templars, beaux, and cits, To reading clubs, and coteries of wits ? Th' oblivious drawer is gaping for thy lays, The filent limbo of rejected plays ; There fhalt thou reft, for weary months and years, While, thy vain bofom, throbs with hopes and fears ; Thence, late return, unhonour'd and unread, The drama flighted, and the bard unfed ! Nor is this all fair Cowley's page arraigns Perfidious managers, for pilfer'd ftrains ; Thus, by the defpots of the ftage, expell'd, " Unhoufel'd, unanointed, unannell'd," Proceed, poor bard, the whips and fcorns endure, All, all, are weak thy vanity to cure ; ' ( 35 ) Befotted, poifon'd, by the love of fame, Refort to tyrants, with another name, Poet. . The Bookfellers, that generous, candid, train, Shall kindly nurfe the bantlings of my brain ; Infufe their golden opiates, and afluage The pangs inflicted, by the court and ftage ; When Whatman's paper, work'd in Bulmer's prefs, Frefents my foundling, in a chrift'ning drefs j With puffs and pap, by the Reviewers, fed, The child, perhaps, may grow and earn its bread ; While Goody Stockdale, deigns, with nurfing hand, To teach the trembling brat, alone to fland. Friend. What Bookfellers recruit thy famifh'd purfe ! How childilh fancy, roams from bad to worfe ! This deals in politics, but not in rhymes, Another afks fome touches at the times ; This, never meddles with the tragic vein, That, fears your mufe may touch upon th' obfceue ; This, works for kirk and democrats, alone, That, is devoted, to the church and throne. For patriot cares, good Johnfon draws his breath, Nichols, is all for anecdote and death. ( 3Si ) Tom Paine is facred to th' illuftrious dead, The mufe's friend, with dying Dodfley fled ; Who for a publifher, in Edwards, looks ? He knows the bindings, not contents, of books. Say, to what end, thy fludy, cares, and pains ? , Wilt thou thy body wafte, and rack thy brains ? When fuch the porters of the door of fame, W^ho fit in judgment on the poet's claim. Let noble lords, and titled ladies, rhyme, Sweet are their numbers, if the guineas chime ; The flowing lines of Burrel's lily hand, And Hampden's claffic flrain, Bodoni's prefs command j Carlifle, in Turkey bound, with gold imboft, May fhow the vein of Howards is not loft ; The book, fuperbly bound, is gratis giv'n, And all applaud the favourites of heav'n. But thou Oh ! happy bards of ancient Rome, No danger, there, of fuch oblivious doom ; They hir'd his pulpit, of an auctioneer, And roar'd their poems in the public ear. Purfue th' example, and a tub provide, With quacks and methodifts the crowd divide ; Diftribute famples of melodious fong, Where confluent ftreets unite the ftrolling throng ; Sing Brunfwick's palms and clemency, aloud, With Frederick's trophies, charm the gaping crowd* ( 352 ) The crowd {hall follow his triumphal car, And hail the bleffings of protracted war. To'Solyma conduct the chriflian knight, In long proceflion, Turks and Franks unite ; Rimnitzki's glories, fhall a theme fupply, His benedictions, and his piety ; His piety, that reeks round IfmaiPs wall, His benedictions, that on Warfaw fall. Poet. Spare thy derifion would'fl thou hope deftroy ? Hope, fole remaining avenue to joy ! Chief foother of the warm poetic breaft, Sole good remaining in Pandora's cheft! Friend. Well, grant thy mufe, fuperior to this age, Should burft her way, triumphant, to the ftage How fhall the fpirit, funk with want and care, Catch the bright phantoms, of the good and fair ? Or fancy's vifions, on the cell, defcend, Where blank deipair, and cheerlefs famine, bend ? No the free mufe, of pain impatient flies, To meads enamell'd and to cloudlefs fkies, The gufli of fountains, and the vales and groves, Where flocks and birds, renew their vernal loves : ( 353 ) When the grim offspring of a doom unkinfl, "When want and cares befiege the frame and mind 5 How fhalt thou bid the gen'rous fury rave ? How court the mufes, in Pierian cave ? In vain O poverty ! thine abjecl: band, Would grafp the thyrfus, with unhallow'd hand : Vacant and pure let rufhing godhead find, The facred temple of the poet's mind : No menial obje&s, there, admittance gain, . No vulgar cares, divided fway retain j No pangs, the bard, but pangs ideal, know, And fhould he weep, the tear from fittion flow, When Horace wing'd the bold pindaric flight, 'Midft affluence, focial hours, and gay delight, Eafe, from her couch, the downy plumage lent, To imp the pinions of his bold afcent j How had the mufe of mighty Maro fail'd, Had want's terrific form his foul afTail'd ? By fortune doom'd, to famine and to care, The fnakes had fallen from his fury's hair : No more, the bard, a daring glance had caft, To gaze on, godhead, thro' th' etherial vaft. No martial trump, had wak'd the Trojan hoil, Arms and the man, had been for ever loft. While Pope, luxurious, in his grot reclines, And forms Ijis quincunx, or difplays his vines ; % ( 3*4 ) With cafe, and wealth, and leifure, at his board, Fed, like a monk ; and fiatter'd, like a lord ; In happy hours, he woos the tuneful train, And forms, with patient touch, the polifh'd ft rain , Then views, with fcornful eye, the wretch who fcrawls. With defp'rate charcoal, round his darken'd walls j Not Lombard-flreet could boafl, with more parade, The weight of purfe, or fcorn the tuneful trade. Had'fl thou been doom'd in bafe dependent ftate, To cope, like Savage, with misfortune's hate j And had fome other Pope arifen for thee, To tread, exulting, on thy mifery. Had'fl thou, from cruel pride, and meannefs, found Gifts that debafe, and benefits, that wound. Thy mufe, the terror of the dunce and cheat, Had cring'd, in flattery, to the vain and great ; Ev'n in thy garret quak'd at Lintot's frown, And bow'd, fubmifs, to Curl, for half a crown ; Where then the mufe, that fcorning fancy's throng, Had floop'd to truth, and moraliz'd the fong ? Had'fl thou, when call'd to rhyme in nature's fpite, Perceiv'd, O bard ! Whatever is is rjght ? Deluded friend ! to think poetic rage, Will charm the nobles of this laggard age ! Wert thou an actor, cOuld'fl thou cog a die, Had fate bereft thee of virility ; ( 355 ) Wert thou endow'd with mimic pow'r of face, Then, might'ft thou mix among the courtly race ; Such rare perfections more delight impart, Than all accompli fhments of head and heart. Poet. An hopeful preacher, I may well reply, Whofe practice to his precepts gives the lie ; Such is the folly of the fcribbling tribe We oft, are all we cenfure and profcribe ; Write againft poetry, in rhyming vein, Write againft fatire, in fatiric ftrain. Friend. Jufl is th' objection to its force I bend, Conclude my lecture, and releafe my friend. I {/triffi VT/ ^AavaaiH^ ^Aavaaii-^ ^tjuonv-soi^ ^/sm ' ,5!AE-UN!VERS//, ^lOS-ANCflfj^ o ^LIBRARY^ ^UBRARYOc, ^ojuvdjcy^ %oi\mi^ ^OFCAilF0^> ^OFCAllfO/?^ y 0Aavnaii-# ^Aavaain^ Wtfl'NIVERS//, v- 1(7 V C -V"- l '" ' "'"'//. N J V I fclOS-, WtfUN'IVERS-//, 5 llzr 5 I vl in> \\\[USWER% v^IOSAN'GHFj^ 5 v""**-^*/ g O I ^ V Si fa/r HIBRARYtf/- l-J ^Aavaan# ^AavaaiBv^ 1 i UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 000 082 000 1 3 1158 01223 2087 a- ^/OdlWDJO^ ^OJIIW-JO^ ^\\\l ^lOS-ANGElfj> ^OKALIFOfcto ^OF-CAL!F0% ^Aavaan-^ y #AavaaiB^ ^UBRARYQCj 0FCA1IF0% 1V^' ^lOS-ANCHFj^ IS; o \WIINIVER% * ' J *\ 2 ^TJUWSOl^ %J3A1NH3\^ \\tf-UNIVER% o ^lOS-ANGElfj^ OS-ANCElFj> MS.* ^HIBRARY^ iju" ITVJ-JO i!FC% ^HIBRARYQ^ ^OJllVJJO^ ^.OFCALIFO/?^ y # Aavaan# ' y