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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 o 
 
 EMS.
 
 POEMS, 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 THE FOLLOWING PIECES, 
 
 VIZ. 
 
 I. Ode written upon the 
 Death of Mr. Gray. 
 
 II. For the Monument of 
 a favourite Spaniel. 
 
 III. Another Infcription 
 for the fame. 
 
 IV. Tranflation from 
 Dante, Canto xxxiii. 
 
 BY T H E 
 
 EARL of CARLISLE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for J. RIDLEY, in St. James's Street. 
 
 M DCC LXXIII.
 
 ciq AH 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 ODE 
 
 WRITTEN UPON THE DEATH OF 
 
 M R G R A Y. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHAT Spirit's that which mounts on high, 
 Born on the arms of every tuneful Mufe ? 
 His white robes flutter to the rale : 
 They wing their k way to yonder opening fky, 
 
 In glorious ftate through yielding clouds they fail, 
 And fcents of heavenly flowers on Earth difFufe. 
 
 B II. What 
 
 765716
 
 [ 4 ] 
 
 II. 
 
 What avails the Poet's art ? 
 
 What avails his magic hand ? 
 Can he arreft Death's pointed dart, 
 
 Or charm to fleep his murderous band ? 
 Well I know thee, gentle Shade, 
 
 That tuneful voice, that eagle eye.- 
 
 Quick bring me flowers that ne'er mall fade, 
 The laurel wreath that ne'er mall die ; 
 With every honour deck his funeral bier, 
 For He to every Grace, and every Mufe was dear I 
 
 III. 
 
 The liflening Dryad, with attention ftill, 
 
 On tiptoe oft would near the Poet fteal, 
 To hear him ling upon the lonely hill 
 
 Of all the wonders of th' expanded vale ; 
 The diftant Hamlet, and the winding Stream, 
 
 The Steeple fhaded by the friendly yew, 
 Sunk in the wood the Sun's departing gleam, 
 
 The grey-robed Landlcape dealing from the view. 
 
 Or
 
 C 5 ] 
 
 * Or wrapt in folemn thought, and pleafing woe, 
 O'er each low tomb he breath'd his pious {train, 
 A leflbn to the village fwain, 
 
 And taught the tear of ruftic grief to flow ! 
 
 J- But foon with bolder note, and wilder flight, 
 O'er the loud firings his rapid hand would run : 
 
 Mars hath lit his torch of war, 
 Ranks of Heroes fill the fight ! 
 Hark, the carnage is begun ! 
 And fee the Furies through the fiery air 
 O'er Cambria's frighten'd land the fcreams of horror 
 bear ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 J Now led by playful Fancy's hand 
 O'er the white furge he treads with printlefs feet, 
 
 To magic mores he flies, and Fairy Land, 
 Imagination's bleft retreat. 
 
 * This alludes to Mr. Gray's Elegy written in a Country 
 
 Church-yard. 
 
 f The Bard, a Pindaric Ode. 
 
 X The Progrefs of Poetry, a Pindaric Ode. 
 
 Here
 
 [ 6 ] 
 
 Here rofes paint the crimfon way, 
 
 No fetting Sun, eternal May, 
 Wild as the Prieftefs of the Thracian fane 
 When Bacchus leads the maddening train, 
 His bofom glowing with celeftial fire, 
 To Harmony he ftruck the golden lyre ; 
 
 To Harmony each hill and valley rung ! 
 
 The Bird of Jove, as when Apollo fung, 
 To melting blifs rcfign'd his furious foul, 
 With milder rage his eyes began to roll, 
 The heaving down his thrilling joys confefl, 
 Till by a Mortal's hand fubdued he funk to reft. 
 
 V. 
 
 * O Guardian Angel of our early day, 
 
 Henry, thy darling plant mull: bloom no more ! 
 
 By thee attended, penfive would he flray, 
 
 Where Thames foft-murmuring laves his winding 
 more. 
 
 * Ode on a did ant Profpe& of Eton College. 
 
 Thou
 
 [ 7 ] 
 
 Thou bad'ft him raife the moralizing fong, 
 
 Through life's new feas the little bark to fleer : 
 
 The winds are rude and high, the failor young ; 
 Thoughtlefs he fpies no furious tempeft near, 
 
 Till to the Poet's hand the helm you gave, 
 
 From hidden rocks an infant crew to fave ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 * Ye Fiends who rankle in the human heart, 
 Delight in woe, and triumph in our tears, 
 Refume again 
 Your dreadful reign ; 
 Prepare the iron fcourge, prepare the venom'd dart, 
 Adverlity no more with lenient air appears : 
 The fnakes that twine around her head 
 Again their frothy poifon fried, 
 For who can now her whirlwind flight controul, 
 
 * Hymn to Adverlity. 
 
 C Her
 
 C ] 
 
 Her threatening rage beguile ? 
 He who could jftill the temped of her foul, 
 And force her livid lips to fmile, 
 
 To happier feats is fled ! 
 Now feated by his Thracian Sire, 
 At the full feaft of mighty Jove 
 To heavenly themes attunes his lyre, 
 
 And fills with Harmony the realms above ! 
 
 FOR
 
 [ 9 ] 
 
 FOR THE MONUMENT OF 
 
 ROSE, 
 
 A FAVOURITE SPANIEL, 
 
 YE Fairy fprites, who oft by dufky Eve, 
 When no rude noife difturbs this peaceful grove, 
 O'er Ccwflips' heads your airy dances weave, 
 Or with your Females whifper tales of love, 
 
 A Favourite's urn protect with every fpell 
 That by the confcious moon ye here prepare ; 
 
 Nor in the breaft the heaving iigh repel, 
 Nor in the redden'd eye the flarting tear. 
 
 For
 
 [ to ] 
 
 For Ye have feen her at the rife of day, 
 
 Fair as the bluming flower whofe name Ihe bore* 
 
 Try the thick copfe, or in the vallies play : 
 Neglect her not, though all her beauty's o'er, 
 
 Left mould fome heifer, from the neighbouring mead, 
 Or playful colt, her little tomb profane ; 
 
 Left on that breafh the turf too hard they tread, 
 Which ne'er knew forrow, nor e'er tafted pain. 
 
 For this may no rude Peafants, ere the dawn, 
 With noify rattling of their loaded teams, 
 
 Drive you with mirth unfinifh'd off the lawn, 
 Or in the vale diiiurb your pleafing dreams ! 
 
 ANOTHER
 
 [ ] 
 
 ANOTHER 
 
 INSCRIPTION 
 
 O R THE SAME. 
 
 Hoe'er thou art whom chance fliall hither lead, 
 O'er the green turf with friendly caution tread; 
 For in the bofom of this beechen fhade 
 A lovely Favourite's bones in peace are laid. 
 She afks no pity, your companion fpare, 
 Soon your own woes may want the gufhing tear. 
 Flappy her life : She ne'er affliction knew, 
 Lov'd by her Miftreis, to that Miffrefs true. 
 And, if Pythagoras hath truly taught, 
 That future joy by former merit's bought, 
 She may perhaps, chang'd to the fnowy dove, 
 Sleep in the bofom of the Queen of love; 
 
 D Or
 
 C " ] 
 
 Or haply may her beauteous form retain, 
 To fcour with Dian's Nymphs the verdant plain. 
 But to her foul mould perfect blifs be given 
 For virtues paft, fhe aiks no other Heaven, 
 Than here again midft flowery fields to rove, 
 And here again to mare her Miftrefs' love. 
 
 TRANSLA-
 
 [ '3 ] 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 FROM 
 
 D ANTE, 
 
 CANTO XXXIII. 
 
 Dante, being conducted by Virgil into the infernal Re- 
 gions, fees a perfon devouring a human fkull, and ftruck 
 by fo horrid a light, inquires into his Hiftory, and receives 
 this account. 
 
 N -r O W from the fell repaft, and horrid food, 
 * The Sinner rofe, but firft (the clotted blood 
 With hair depending from the mangled head) 
 His jaws he wiped* and thus he wildly faid : 
 
 Ah[ 
 
 * Count Ugolino, a Nobleman of Pifa, entered into a confpiracy 
 with the Archbifhop Rugieri, of the Ubaldini family, to depofe the 
 Governor of Pifa ; in which cnterprize having fucceeded, Ugolino 
 aflumed the government of the city ; but the Archbifhop, jealous of 
 his power, incited the people againft him ; and gaining the affiftance 
 of the three powerful families o^ the Gulandi, Lanfranchi, and Sif- 
 
 mondi,
 
 C '+ ] 
 
 Ah ! will't thou then recall this fcene of woe, 
 And teach again my fcalding tears to flow r* 
 Thou know'ft not how tremendous is the tale, 
 My brain will madden, and my utterance fail. 
 But could my words bring horror and defpair 
 To Him whofe bloody fkull you fee me tear, 
 Then mould the voice of fweet revenge ne'er ileep, 
 For ever would I talk, and talking weep. 
 Mark'd for deflruclion, I in lucklefs hour 
 Drew my firft breath on the Etrufcan lhore, 
 And Ugolino was the name I bore. 
 This fkull contain'd an haughty Prelate's brain, 
 Cruel Rugeiro's; why his blood I drain, 
 Why to my rage he's yielded here below, 
 Stranger, 'twill coft thee many a tear to know. 
 Thou know'fr perhaps how trufting to this flave 
 I and my children found an early grave. 
 
 mondi, marched with the enraged multitude to attack the houfe of the 
 unfortunate Ugolino, and making him their prifoner, confined him 
 in a tower with his four fons : at length refufing them food, and 
 calling the key of the dungeon into the river Arno, he left them in 
 this horrible fituation to be ftarved to death. 
 
 This
 
 [ '5 ] 
 
 Thrs thou may'ft know, the Dead alone can tell, 
 
 The Dead, the tenants of avenging hell, 
 
 How hard our fate, by what inhuman arts we fell. 
 
 Through the fmall opening of the prifon's height 
 
 One moon had almoft. fpent its waining light. 
 
 It was when Sleep had charm'd my cares to reft, 
 
 And wearied Grief lay dozing in my breaft : 
 
 Futurity's dark veil was drawn afide, 
 
 I in my dream the troubled profpecl eyed. 
 
 On thofe high hills, it feem'd, (thofe hills which hide 
 
 Pifa from Lucca,) that, by Sifmond's fide, 
 
 Guland and Landfranc, with difcordant cry, 
 
 Roufe from its den a wolf and young, who fly 
 
 Before their famifh'd dogs ; I faw the fire 
 
 And little trembling young ones faint and tire, 
 
 Saw them become the eager blood-hounds prey, 
 
 Who foon with favage rage their haunches flay. 
 
 I firft awoke, and view'd my flumbering boys, 
 
 Poor haplefs product of my nuptial joys, 
 
 Scar'd with their dreams, tcfs o'er their ftony bed, 
 
 And flarting fcream with frightful noife for bread. 
 
 E Har4
 
 C *6 ] 
 
 Hard is thy heart, no tears thofe eyes can know* 
 If they refufe for pangs like mine to flow. 
 My Children wake -, for now the hour drew near 
 When we were wont our fcanty food to fhare. 
 A thoufand fears our trembling bofoms fill, 
 Each from his dream foreboding fome new ill- 
 With horrid jar we heard the prifon door 
 Clofe on us all, never to open more. 
 My fenfes fail, abfcrb'd in dumb amaze, 
 Deprived of motion on my boys I gaze : 
 Benumb'd with fear, and harden'd into flone, 
 I could not weep, nor heave one eaiing groan. 
 My Children moan, my youngefh trembling cried, 
 " What ails my Father ?" ftill my tongue denied 
 To move; they cling to me with wild affright : 
 That mournful day, and the fucceeding night, 
 We all the dreadful horrid filence kept : 
 Fearful to afk, with filent grief they wept. 
 
 Now in the gloomy cell a ray of light 
 New horrors added by difpelling night. 
 When looking on my boys, in frantic fit 
 Of maddening grief, my fenfelefs hands I bit. 
 
 Alas I
 
 [ *7 ] 
 
 Alas ! for hunger they miftake my rage, 
 Let us, they cried, our Father's pains afluage : 
 " 'Twas he, our Sire who call'd us into day, 
 " Clad with this painful flefh our mortal clay, 
 " That flefh he gave he fure may take away." 
 
 But why mould I prolong the horrid tale ? 
 Difmay and filent woe again prevail. 
 No more that day we fpoke ! Why in thy womb 
 Then, cruel Earth, did we not meet our doom ? 
 Now the fourth morning rofe ; my eldeft child 
 Fell at his Father's feet j in accent wild, 
 Struggling with pain, with his laft fleeting breath, 
 " Help me, my Sire," he cried, and funk in death* 
 I faw the others follow one by one, 
 Heard their laft fcream, and their expiring groan. 
 And now arcfe the laft concluding day; 
 As o'er each corfe I grcp'd my ftumbling way, 
 I call'd my Boys, though now they were no more, 
 Yet ftill I call'd, till, finking on the floor, 
 Pale Hunger did what Grief refus'd to do 
 For ever clofed this fcene of pain and woe. 
 
 FINIS,
 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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 UU39 Poems . 
 
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