ZA *ii <\ ■wr***\ i:'~ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD ENDOWMENT FUND ■7 * / S /c^V./ POEMS. DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE The EARL of MANSFIELD. POEMS. DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE The' EARL of MANSFIELD. Vol. I. Him Virtue tutor'd, -Genius fir'd, His words by Hermes were infpir'd, His works the Mufes lov'd ; Deep Learning fhew'd him all her flores, Fancy illum'd his leifure hours, And Pope his thoughts appro vM. LONDON: Printed by J. Cooper, Bow Street, Covcnt Garden. SOLD BY Leigh and Sotheby, York Street, Covent Garden ; T. Payne, at the Mews Gate; AND J. Roe son, in Bond Street. 1793- "Ms. Mi' MANSFIELD ! to thee, in whofe expanfive mind, Virtue, and fenfe, in unifon we find, Whofe gentle manners, by the Graces drefs'd, Derive their charms from thy benignant bread ; Whofe tongue with tuneful accents fooths the ear, And fpeaks thofe fentiments the good revere ; To thee I write — determin'd to rely On the good-humour beaming from thine eye, Which kindly fays, thou wilt my lines receive, And for this once, a partial judgement give. Oh ! happy thofe ! who are decreed by fate To fhare the converfe of the good and great, To find deep learning, and fuperior fenfe, In the mild bofom of benevolence ; Genius devoid of fupercilious pride, Wit to amufe, and wifdom to decide, With all thofe namelefs Graces of the mind, By Nature planted, and by art refin'd ; Such is their lot, whom Mansfield condefcends To rank among the number of his friends, A title which demands the lyric firing, Awakes the Mufe, and bids her try to fing. 764322 ERRATA. Pager 6 for Malcom, read Malcolm. 37. dewdrow, dewdrop. 39 emlpoy'd, employ 'd. 82 thoughts of death, thought. 140 haft, hath. 144 monfters monfter. 155 gayety, gayity. 190-I 192/ Laura, Flavia. 196 chafe, chace. 221 deethe, dethe. 223 Zephys, Zephyrs. 241 hung, hang. 257 countenance confequence 266 Selima is was. 267 line 20. for Emma, Anna. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Page ELLEN Irvine. -----____ j Abelard to Eloifa. ------___ I2 From Califta to Lothario. ---___ T g The Pilgrim ; or Ethelbert and Emma. - 27 Elegy ; taken from the French Poem of Fernand et Elmire. -----__'_ ~,- Dione. -------_____ „„ Comala ; a Dramatic Poem, &c. - - - *<-, Edward and Anna. ------___ Ior Clara: an Elegy. ---------- nq Alindor and Lubin. ---------126 The Robin Redbreafts. ------- 110 The Nightingale and Dove. - - - __ _ j.,,- Connal and Crimora. ________ Olivia. --------_■_._...--- Zelima : an Elegy. ---._•_, - - - 1 ci The Druid. - - ______ _ j. The Confeflbr. ---------- _6_l The ConvicL - - ----____ 1 fi On the Earl of Mansfield falling wkh Lady Edward Bentinck from a bench in the Ball Room at Tunbridge Wells, &c. - - - - 1-7 An invocation to the Nymph of the Spring at Tunbridge Wells. -----__ _ ,-g viii CONTENTS. Page On a Robin being in one of the windows in the Drawing Room at St. James's, on New- Year's Day, 1784. ...... 180 The Robin's Anfwer. -------- 181 Robin's Petition to Her Majefty. ----- 183 An Add re fs to Kenwood. ---____i85 On the Earl of Mansfield's Portrait by Sir Jofhua Reynolds. - --___... 187 Ode to Senfibility. --------- 188 The Sylph. ----------- 193 The Triumph of Nature. -------198 The Nun. ----- _ - - ___ 203 A Ballad in the Ancient Style. - - - - - 212 Hippolito and Aurelia. -------- 230 Henry and Rofina. _-____--- 241 Conftantia. - ---------- 245 Amelia. - ----------- 247 Elegy on the Death of P. B. Efq. - - - - 243 Ethelmer and Evelina. -------- 250 The Female Archers. - __-___- 256 An Epiftle from a Sylph to Zephyr. - 260 On a Robin appearing at the Communion Table. 271 Vers de Madame la Marechalle de Mirepoix a Mr. le Due de Nivernois. — - - - - 273 Reponfe du Due de Nivernois. ----- ibid. Tranflation by a Lady (unknown.) . - - - - 274 Tranflation by S. B. - - - - - - - - 275 Epiitle from Elvira (a Spanifh Lady) to her Lover. - - - - ------- 276 Epitaph. ------------ 286 I » 3 ELLEN IRVINE. Taken from a Story in Mr. Pennant 's Tour through Scotland ; wherein he fays, " Her tomb ( and her Lover's ) is now in Kirkconnel " church yard, with this fimple infcription, ' Hie " jacet Adam Fleming, ' and a crofs, and fword, " engraved on it. " 1 HE morrowe graie did o'er the hills appeere, The lyttel byrds yfang fra * everie fpraye : It was the plefaunt feafoun of the yeere, When Nature is mod beutifull and gaie: It was when Averill clad the trees wi grene, And ftraw'd her primrofys o'er mead and dale, When eke t the daifie 'mong the grafle was fene, And airly herdfmen % wander 'd thro' the vale : It was when everie greve § was fpreynt J| wi dewe That Edgar left hys bedd, and faught the wode ; Edgar ! a lordinge, chief among the fewe Of high eftate, yet valourous and gode. * From, f Alio. J Shepherds. § Bufh. || Sprinkled. Vol. I. £ C * ] Befide the Kiltie's flouerie banks he rov'd, Benethe the covert of the fragraunt made, (For moche was Edgar's foul wi pleafure mov'd, To fee the workes of Nature's honde difplaied ;) But grones deep fetch 'd ; and lab'ring fra the harte, Big wi the founde ofpaine, affail'd hiseare ; The voice he followes, ready to imparte His generous ayde, infenfible to feere ! Jufte in the centre of a lyttel woode, Shrouded by Nature's charitable gloome, Conceal'd from publick obfervatione, iloode, Of marbre, (unadourn'd by wordes,) a toombe. Atour * its bafe the deadlie nightfhade fprang, And there the melancholy cyprefs grewe, Upon whofe boughes the robin redbrefte fang, And o'er whofe heade the bodinge raven flewe. Athwart the toombe, immerfed in anguifh, hung He, fra whofe bufom burfte fie heavie figghes ; He feem'd a comelie fwayne, baith faire and young, And teeres defcended fra hys downcaft eyes. Sable hys vefture, and hys flowinge haire Fell o'er hys moulders, wi difhevell'd grace ; Majeftic pryde was in hys manlie aire, But pale difpayre was peinted on his face. — (Sikt have I feene, methinks, a blyghted tree Some feint appeeraunce of itfelf retain ; The ftem prefervinge all its dignitie, The wither'd branches droopinge tovv'rds the plaine.) * Around. + So. [ 3 ] *' Rife, hapleffe wight ! " the pitying Edgar crys, " Nor holde this fruitlefle converfe wi the dede." — > " Straunger, avaunt ! " — the ftarting youthe replies, " He meetes wi Dethe who dares my greefe invade ! " Wi ftep prophane prefume not to intrude " On that retirement, whiche/my foul demandes — " Sacrede to Ellen is thys folitude ; " Her toombe, refpect and diftant awe, commandes. " Leve me to privacie, to dark difpayre, " To all the horrours tortured Francy bringes ; " Molefte me not! nor withe rafh courage dare " To meete a weapon, ftain'd wi blude of Kinges. " Tempt not my rage! — whoe'er fhall madly trie " To force my fteps fra Ellen Irvine's toombe, " Benethe my vengefull fworde fhall furelie die, " And from offended love, receive hys doome. " But fure the teere that gliftens in thine eie, " Declares thy harte wi fimpathie is mov'd, " Perhap thou hafle endured adverfitie, " Or lofte the maiden whome thy harte approv'd. " Oh then approache! and witneffe what I do ! " See the lafte tragic rites of fatal love ! " The clofing fcene of my affli&ione vie we ! *' For Fleming's grave, is in this dufkie grove. " The morrowes dawn I fhall nae longer greete, " The noontide fhadowe, or the evening gloome ; " Ere nyghte retourns, or ere this fun is fet, " My harte will breke on Ellen Irvine's toombe, B 2 [ 4 J " Come, fit theedoune, wi patience on the grafle, " And heare the lucklefle ftorie of my fate ; " Heare how I loved the moft engaging lafle, " And heare how I became unfortunate. He fayde, and Edgar, with a pitying looke Which fpoke the tribute of humanitie, His ftatione by the mournfull Fleming tooke, Who thus began his wofull hiftoric : " Within thys melancholic toombe is Iayde, " All that my doating foul held juftlie deere, " The poore remains of a beloved mayde, " Kirkconnel's pryde, and myne, is buried heere. " Heere her fad reliques lie ! O envied earthe ! " Shall thy cold bufome Ellen's pillowe be ? " Muft thou engrofle a mafs of perfect worth, " Of charms, that were betroth'd, alas ! to me ? " My cruel memorie, with uneering truthe, " Can bringe her gentle form to fancie's eie, " Can reprefente her beautie, love, and youthe, " Her tendernefle, and rare fidelitie. " Whene'er fhe daunc'd upon Kirkconnel's plaine, *' The fhoutinge crowde, wi admiration fyred, " Praifed the fayre maide ; and many a wealthy fwayne, " To gayne my Ellen Irvine's honde, afpyred. " Amang the refte, a man of noble name, " Malcolm, of Orgulous * and cruel mynde ; " But Ellen frown 'd whene'er the lordynge came, " And to accept hys profFer'd love, dcclyn'd. * Proud. [ 5 ] ** The lafte furvivour of a noble race, " She often cried, (to her attentive frendes,) " Shalle ne'er her honefte anceftours difgrace, " Or form a unione, which her foul offendes. " The onlie daughter of Kirkconnel's houfe " Shall never give reluclantlie her honde, " She will not fell contente, to gayne a fpoufe, " Howe'er poffefs'd of title, wealthe, or londe. " Go, Malcolm ! offer not thy vows to me, " Some more ambitious damofell prefer, " And fince my harte cannot wi thine agree, " Addrefs thy fuit, and all thy love to her. " Where the mynde's pilot, Inclinatione, poynts, " My choice (hall followe, tho' to fome lone cell, " Where peace the hedde of innocence anoynts, " Where comforte fmyles, and where contente may [dwell. " Away wi alle the joyes that grandeure gyves ! " Shewe me the antique grott, or moffie cave, " Where virtue, conftancie, and friendfhippe live, *' And where no vice the morals can deprave. t( Where love, tho' not arraied in goldene chaynes, " Courts my difinterefted humble choice, " Where fweete fymplicitie her fwaye maintaynes, " And the creation yields to nature's voice. " My harte difdaynes the difingenuous guile, *' That teacheth thoughts and words to difagree, " The falfe profeffione, and the ftudied fmyle, (< Repugnant are to my finceritie. E 6 ] " Let me then, live obfcure, in lowlie ftate, " Remote from pomp and luxurie of life ; " My mynde is fuited to an humble fate, " Nor can I ever be Earle Malcolm's wife." " She fpake^ and fpekeinge wounded Malcom's pryde, " A jealous drede * fill'd hym withe newe alarms, " Furious he turn'd hym from her viewe afyde, " Curfed her indifference, — yet ador'd her charmes. (" Oh! why, my Ellen Irvine, was thy mynde " Difpos'd to treat his fuit wi crueltie ? " Why wert thou form'd to be fae colde, and kinde ? " Sae coy to others, — 'but fae kinde to me!) " My love fincere her gen'rous harte repayed: — " My onely wealthe was honoure, and my fworde, " Yet did my faithfull vows attach the mayde, " And kindlye fhe my proteftations hearde. " Oh how I loved her ! witnefTe faints above ! " Beyonde whate'er the worlde calls good, or greate, " Beyonde the common fentiments of love, " Beyonde ambition, fortune, pomp, and ftate. " Yet, would to heaven another had pofTefs'd " The valued harte which was on me beftow'd ! " On me, whofe merits were by far the leafte, " But love the pureft, of the rival crowde. (" Ah cruel deftiny ! relentlefs fate ! " And do I live to mourne my murder'd love ? " But here I fix my everlaftinge feate ; " No power on earthe my laft refolve fhall move.) * Fear. [ 7 ] " Malcolm, whofe brefte wi fecret envye brent,* " Vow'd fwifte revenge on me, and on the fair, " And fwere aloude, that he would ne'er relente " Till he involved us baith in dire difpayre. " Yet we, regardlefle of his angrie threats, " Wander 'd together in the neighbouring grove, " And oft, fequefter'd in thefe calme retreats, " Breathed the empaflion"d founds of guilelefs love. " On Kirtle's banks, one eveninge we reclyned, (" On Kirtle's banks, yclad in fragraunt greene,) " My Ellen's fmyles exprefs'd her happie mynde, " And gave newe beautie to the rural fcene. " I took my flute, and, mufically wylde, " Varied the notes, to pleafe the attentive fair ; " Whene'er the founds were gaie, fhe fwetely fmyled, " When they were plaintive, (he beftow'd a tere. u But while thus happie wi my gentle love, " While carelelly reclyned on Kirtle's fide, " Fierce Malcolm iflued fra th' adjacent wode, " Enflamed wi envie, jealoufie, and pryde. (l We ken'd him not, until it was too late ; " Wi bow and arrowe in hys honde he came : (i Audacious yewthe ! he cry'd, receive thy fate ! " Atone for love, and eke furrendour fame." " While yet he fpake, the fatale bow was bente — " To fhield my life, the frighted Ellen ftrove ^ si Too fure, alafs ! the winged dart was fente, " Sad meflengere of dethe, and foe to love. * Burn'd. [ 8 ] tx Oh fad remembraunce ! everdurlnge greefe ! " Wounded for me, I fawe my promifed bride, " 1 fawe, I yerned,* but could nae give relief, — " She fell, — the cruel arrowe in her fyde. " My tremblinge arms fuftain'd the dyinge fayre ; " Her eies had fix'd their languide orbs on me, ** Ye who ha loved fae weel, (if fuch there are,) " Thinke on the fcene, and melt withe fympathie. " Love! we rauft parte," the drooping victim fayde ; " Yet feeke not to avenge thy Ellen's dethe, " Let me within an humble toombe be layde; " Obey the mandates of my parting breathe. " To Spayne I charge thee, Fleming ! to repayre, "■ Infted of waftinge alle thy daies in wo, " Againfte the infidels aflift the warre, *f The prowefs of thy valient arme to fhowe, " If crown 'd wi lawrels, fra th' enfanguin'd fielde " To Caledonia, thou mouldft ever come, " If tyme the Iharpnefle of thy woes hath heal'd, " Vifit thy loft, — thy faithfull Ellen's toombe ; " And when the fates thy precious lyfe demande, " By haplefle Ellen Irvine's fyde be layde." — " She fpake : in Dethe fhe grafp'd my trembling honde, " And to the regions of the happie fledde. " Abraide t from ftupid lethargie of thoughte, " I flarted fra the fatal fcene of dethe, 11 My beatinge bufome wi revenge was fraught, " I ken'd the murderer on the diftant heathe. * Shriekd. f Awaked. [ 9 ] " Swifte as an eaglet, I hys fteps purfued, " Urged by my wrongs, acrofs the duftie playne, " I overtook th' aflaffin in a wode, " We fought, and by my arm the wretch was flayne. " I then had fheathed the fworde within my harte, " But for my Ellen Irvine's laft requefte : " My frendes implor'd me quicklie to departe, " I went, with mortal anguifh in my brefte. '• Againft the infidels my fworde I try'd, " And thought to periih on the warfull playne ; " We foughte, we conquer'd, fate my wifh deny'd, " And fent me to my native londe agayne. " Meantime the weepinge frendes of her I mourn, " Had layde her colde remaynes within this toombe, " And vainely thought, when Fleming mould returne, " Time would have diflipated forrowe's gloom. " As foone they mighte reftrayne the river's tyde, " Or flay the fun in his accuftom'd courfe, " As bid me ceafe to love my comely bryde, " Or fra her grave my wearie body force. " Thus farre have I obey'd my love's commande, " I here am come to lay my trophies doune ; '* My faithfull fword right weel hath ferv'd my honde, " A lawrel guirlonde I from fame have wone. " Stranger ! if thou wilte graunt my lafle requefte, " Oh ! let my corfe wi Ellen Irvine fleepe ; " Withine her toombe my greefs will be at refte, " My harte will ceafe to beate, myne eyne to weepe. [ io ] " Thou cruel toombe ! that have, alafs ! enfhrined " The treafure unto Fleming's harte mod deere, (" All that was beuteous, gentle, chafte, and kinde, " In friendlhip faithfull, and in love fmcere,) " Thy marbre walls no longer fhall divyde " Thofe conftant hartes that did in lyfe unite, " Dethe fhall convey me to my Ellen's fyde, " And after-ages fhall our loves- recite, " Attende, my Ellen, to thy Fleming's prayer ! " Attende, blefl fhade of her whome I deplore ! " Oh ! guide my fpirit fra this worlde of care, " To thofe abodes, where we fhall parte nae more. " On Hope's broad pinions my ideas rife, " My foul impatient, longes to take its flighte, " My peerlefle Ellen meets my dazzled eyes, " Like day emerging fra the fhades of nighte." — Thus did the fad diftra&ed lovyer rave, With cries that fwell'd the echoes of the grove, (Like Romeo wailing at hys Juliet's grave, In all the agonies of frantic love.) But foone his fading cheeke grewe wond'rous pale, His pulfe beat languide, fhorter heaved hys brethe, The vital fpark of lyfe began to fail, And his frame ftruggled wi the pangs of dethe. Joy glent * irradiant from hys clofing eie, A fmyle was on hys face ; when thus he cry'd, " The blefled harbour of my hopes is nighe ! 4 ' Then layde him downe on Ellen's toombe, and died . ' ' * Bcam'd. [ » 3 According to the lafte requefte he made, The gen'rous Edgar, with a pious care, In Ellen Irvine's grave his reliques layde, And o'er the toombe humanely fhed a tere. Reader ! if thou hafle fenfibilitie, As Edgar did, fae wilt thou alfo do ; One tere is due unto the memorie Of lovyers fae unfortunate and true. [ 12 ] ABELARD to ELOISA. jl E gloomy horrors ! ye religious cells ! Ye walls ! which ev'ry gleam of hope repels, Ye fretted roofs ! that echo to my cries, Ye lamps! that burn before my aching eyes, Ye holy faints ! ye cherubims ! forgive The murmurs of a wretch, condemn'd to live. Since {tern religion bars the gates of death, Still mud this mortal frame retain its breath, Linger on earth, till the appointed hour When life may ceafe, and love exift no more. At this ftill hour, when fullen filence reigns, I mufe on forrow, and indulge my pains, Give my fad foul the privilege to mourn, And think on days, that never can return. Whilft others lofe their various cares in fleep I wake to meditate, and rife to weep, Speak to the winds that whiftle thro' my cell, And to the fenfelefs lamps my anguifh tell. But why to thefe do I relate my woe ? Will not kind heaven fome pitying friend beftow ? Some friend, who is, like me, the (lave of love, Some friend, whofe life is with misfortune wove. Whilft Eloifa lives, I dare pretend, Wretch as I am ! to have one faithful friend. [ i3 J For her, then, let me mark the page with tears-— See, Eloifa ! fee, the paper bears Thefe emblemns of a heart that burfts with grief, And only finds in tears a fhort relief. Oh Eloifa ! when thine eye furveys The fcroll, where Abelard his grief difplays, Methinks thou wilt decline thy lovely head, And mourn for him, whofe happinefs is fled. In happier days, when with each other bleft, Love was our guide, and liberty our gueft, I never knew a joy, or felt a care, That Eloifa did not wifh to (hare : Say then, my love ! fhall Abelard complain, And thou not bear a portion of his pain ? Have rigid nuns and pious legends taught Thy foul, to ftifle every tender thought ? Art thou afraid, where fculptured faints appear, To give at lead one fympathetic tear ? Or have thofe walls wherein thou art enfhrin'd, Harden'd that heart, which was for love defign'd ? Oh blifsful hours ! when Eloifa fmiled, And with foft eloquence my cares beguiled, Beyond the reach of tyranny you reft, Treafured by memory in my faithful breaft ; Nor can this awful confecrated place, The fweet remembrance from my mind erafe. Then, Eloifa ! then, you reign'd fupreme, Queen of my vows, my love, and my efteem, I let my hopes on airy pinions rife, Warm'd by the beams of Eloifa's eyes ; But ah! thofe treach'rous hopes too fwiftly flew, Stretch'd their light wings, and vanifh'd from my view. [ 14 J Oh how I loved ! beyond what fighs can tell, Beyond what looks or language can reveal, Beyond all earthly things thou wert adored, Almoft as much, as heaven's eternal Lord : 'Twas not thy face, altho' divinely fair, Thy graceful perfon, thy bewitching air, Thofe lips, where harmony and fweetnefs reign'd, Thofe eyes, which all thy fentiments explain'd, Not thefe alone my preference could bind, 'Twas thy intelligent, thy active mind : Whene'er with thee I thro' the woodlands ftray'd, Where ancient oaks diffus'd a folemn fhade, Tho' various birds their amorous defcant fung, I only liften'd to thy tuneful tongue ; The beauties of the fcene were loft on me, For all my looks were fondly fix'd on thee. Oft when the moon has fhed her filver beam Acrofs the current of the ripling ftream, When feated underneath the poplar's boughs, My Eloifa heard my faithful vows, On downy feet the moments danced along, And love, and happinefs, infpired my fong ^ When on my pillow I reclin'd my head, And gentle (lumbers vifited my bed, Then in my dreams I ufed to fee thy form, Jocund with youth, thy cheeks with blufhes warm, In thy bright eyes expreflion wou'd appear, As if the radiant foul was feated there, Mirth gave thee fmiles, and nature gave thee grace, And love improved the beauties of thy face. But now, (ah different far !) whene'er I fleep, When thefe fad eyelids have forgot to weep, When the tired foul her faculties fufpends, And o'er my couch lethargic dullnefs bends, [ *5 ] If fancy then, her magic influence trys, Ufurps my brain, and reafon's place fupplys, Still does my heart, (which, like a feal, mud wear The fame impreilion it firft learnt to bear,) Retain thy form, but ah ! methinks I fee Sorrow's pale image, when I gaze on thee. Is that my Eloifa, once fo gay ? That meagre fhade, which beckons me away ? In fable veftments I behold her dreft, The crofs difplay'd upon her throbbing breaft. Her eyes no more with foft expreffion fhine, Nor fpeak a thoufand tender things, to mine. No thought of love, no look of hope, is there ; Thofe eyes reveal the language of difpair. No word of comfort can her lips beftow, To calm my paffions, or affuage my woe ; Thofe lips, once rofy harbingers of love, Now pale and cold, have loft the power to move, Ev'n as I gaze, the phantom difappears, — Trembling I wake, and bathe my couch with tears ; Then frantic rife, on Eloifa call, And ftrike my hands againft the facred wall. Whene'er the full-orb 'd moon illumes the night, On her I fondly fix my eager fight, Whilft this fweet thought comes foftly o'er my mind, Perhaps in Paraclete's white walls confin'd, My Eloifa's foul delights to rove, Beyond her cell, and greatly foars above y Then may the filver moon attract her eyes, (The moon by which lhe oft has heard my fighs,) And tho' divided we are doom'd to ftay, This one bright object we may both furvey. [ 16 i Ah pleafing thought ! by mournful love impreft, Soon art thou fled from my afflicted breaft, A thoufand agonizing griefs return, And with augmented violence I mourn, Rave at my fate, and, wild with my difpair, Forget that patience muft be won by prayer ; Thro' the long aifles and hollow cells I ftray, Like a fad ghoft until the dawn of day, Or on fome tomb my wretched body throw, And talk of love to thofe who deep below, Willi that, like them, I cou'd for ever clofe My eyes, and to oblivion give my woes ; But mod I wifh for one fhort moment's fpace, Again to view my Eloifa's face, Once more that dear angelic form to meet, Fall on the earth, and periih at her feet. Ah wretch ! the vifionary thought refign, Unheard thou muft lament, unfeen repine, Beyond thefe walls I never more can roam, Within this prifon I behold my tomb. Thefe eyes no more can Eloifa view, Thefe feet no more her footfteps may purfue, Here muft I dwell, and wafte my life away, In tears by night, and penitence by day, A ftranger to the fweets of calm repofe, Mourning my love, and mufing on my woes ; Woes which my heart is deftin'd to endure, Since ev'n religion fails to work my cure. Beneath the conflict I have drove to paint Patience expires, and nature feems to faint. My frighted fpirits from their channels ftart, And freezing terror creeps into my heart. [ *7 3 To write his woes, and to record his love, Is all the comfort Abelard can prove ; This one employment o'er, I only crave From heaven, a fpeedy paflport to the grave. Oh ! thou dear object of my lateft prayers ! Source of my griefs, and partner of my cares ! When this enfeebled frame (hall ceafe to move, This hand to tremble, and this heart to love, When all my follies and my griefs are o'er, And Eloifa is beloved no more, Forget me not, — commiferate my woes, And chaunt a requiem to my foul's repofe. Vol. I. [ i8 ] From CALISTA to LOTHARIO. 1 O that dear heart, where once I folely reign 'd, Whofe tender paffion, long my cares reftrain'd, Let me the forrows of my own confefs, And fpeak my wrongs, tho' hopelefs of redrefs : Yes ! falfe Lothario ! I will dare complain, Declare my woes, and fpeak of love again, Once more the fatal theme fhall reach thine ear, Before I yield to lilence, and defpair. Yet, what alas ! can I expect from thee, When I appeal to thy humanity ? For ah ! to love I dare not make my claim, It loft exiftence, when I murder 'd fame, No more from friendihip can I afk relief, The balm of friendihip fuits inferior grief; Mine, is too deep, for common means to cure, And more than common friendship will endure : By my paft folly too obdurate grown, My friends are fick of my perpetual moan, And to the plaintive ftory of diftrefs, When language faintly, can my grief exprefs, Think jt enough, if they politely hear, And coldly tell me, " to avoid defpair." [ 19 ] Since love is then at beft, a fhort-liv'd flame, Since friendfhip, often proves an empty name, From thefe to other aids, I turn my view, And for the blefling of compaffion, fue : Pity I afk, and, in a fuppliant tone, Plead to the fympathetic mind, alone. But oh ! to whom fhall I addrefs my prayer ? When even lovers, are averfe to hear ? When friends, defpife a fond romantic ftrain, And virtue's pupils, aggravate my pain ? Amidfl my doubts, whilft all the world appears Deaf to my cries, and carelefs of my tears, The voice of juftice bids me ceafe to mourn, And for a moment, to Lothario turn, Sufpend my fighs, awake my flumb'ring pride, Haunt his retreat, and wander by his fide, Demand compamon, as a tribute due, And with a lover's fpeed, his fteps purfue, To all the world, his perfidy proclaim, And to his arts, attribute all my blame. If pity dwells, Lothario ! in thy breaft, If but one little fpark, remains thy gueft, The tear of penitence, the blufh of ihame, Shall from its embers, raife the dying flame, And bid thee, with a voice of juftice, own, Thou art moft guilty, tho' I am undone ; The weaknefs of a yielding heart was mine, The mifchief of perfuafion, fure, was thine : Oh perjur'd man ! remember 'twas for thee I left that bleft companion, chaftity, Forgot reftraint, abandon'd doubt and fear, Relinquifh'd happinefs, and met defpair ; C 2 [ 20 ] Difgrac'd the luftre of my noble name, Incurr'd a feries of diftrefs and fhame, Forfook the peaceful flate in which I lived, Relied on thee, and was, alas ! deceived. Too late a fatal confidence I mourn, And think on bleffings, that can ne'er return ; No hope appears, — and anguiih bids me fly, Weep like a ftricken deer, defpair, and die, For, oh ! it is my wretched lot, to find Thy vows unfaithful, and thyfelf unkind, The fatal alteration fcorns difguife, I read my fortune — in Lothario's eyes. Ah ! chace thefe fears that fill me with difmay, Delude me with a profpecT: calm, and gay, Feign love, and conflancy, — repeat thy vows, And hail Califta, with the name of fpoufe ; If true affection is not thine to give, Yet it will be companion, to deceive, (That once beguil'd, I may remain the fame, A fool by nature, tho' a wretch by name ;) Swear generous amity for years to come, And cancel half the rigour of my doom, Then (hall I fay that honor rules thy mind, Pronounce thee beft, and faireft of thy kind, Still deem thy love unfading and fincere, Forget part injuries,^ and banifh care. Turn, my Lothario ! from the wanton throng Who flatter grcatnefs, and enfnarc the young, Who give example, and who fmile advice, From wine to women, from the turf to dice ; Will you with fafhion, for a vague pretence, Difmifs Calilla from your confidence ? L 21 ] Oh fay not yes ! — the tale but ill agrees With all your vows, and my defire to pleafe, Temptation need not bring injuftice too, Nor Fafhion fan£tify a crime in you ; Injuftice appertains to knaves alone, And Fafhion marks the wealthy fool her own ; Let thefe with (hallow minds employ their art, Nor rob Califta, of Lothario's heart. In all viciflitudes of life the fame, For thee I muft avow a conftant flame, Nor accident, nor time, nor abfence, prove Effectual means, to cure my heart of love ; Had we been born in fome ignoble (hade, A fhepherd thou, and I a rural maid, With rofy garlands I had deck'd thy hair, And wove foft garments for my love to wear, Had fondly fhielded thy beloved form, From fummer's fultry fun, or winter's ftorm, Had lulled thee, by fome whifp'ring rill, to deep, Had help'd to feed thy goats, or pen thy fheep, With fmiles of joy had all thy labours bleft, And clafp'd my faithful Ihepherd to my bread. Or if my ftars had more refplendent fhone, And caft my lot on the imperial throne, If fortune fent thee to adorn my coaft, Thy charms had triumph'd, and my heart been loft, To buy thy heart a fceptre I'd refign, Or make myfelf, my throne, my grandeur, thine. But furely proofs more ftrong than thefe, of love, I gave Lothario ! — witnefs powers above ! Did I net fpurn the narrow, rigid rulea, Of cuftom, laws, and philofophic fchools, [ 22 ] And madly truft unto the vows of love, Which virtue counfel'd me, to difapprove ? I deem'd it juftice, to admire thy charms, Tho' when I gaz'd, my bofom felt alarms ; Nor thought it guilt, to like a form fo fair, Such gentle fmiles, and fuch a graceful air : At length furprized to find the time appear, As if it fled on wings, when thou wert near, Tho' in thine abfence ev'ry hour was long, And forrow. tun'd the burthen of my fong, The painful truth thy fad Califta guefs'd, And queftion'd thus, the fecrets of her breaft. U When honor frowns, when reafon checks my flame, What means this tumult at Lothario's name ? Why does my heart in thefe quick motions beat ? Why glows my cheek Avith inftantaneous heat ? Why does my breaft reluctant yield a figh, And the tear tremble, in Califta's eye ? Alas ! I love, and virtue trys in vain To guide my conduit, or to break my chain ; Involuntary love ufurps, my heart, And wounds my breaft, with his fevereft dart ; Too late I tremble for my own repofe, Too late reflect on Altamont's fond vows, Fcr oh ! I err by the decree of fate, And am lefs guilty, than unfortunate." Thus did my foul a load of anguifh prove, Prophetic of thofe ills that wait on love ; In vain I try'd to counteract the flame, And form'd rcfolves, to live devoid of blame ; One fmile from thee, one glance from thy bright eyes, Kegain'd my heart, in fpight of all its ties, [ n ] Oppos'd to thee my fortitude declin'd, And love fulfill'd, what artful man defign'd ; Califta heard thy vows, beheld thy tears, Ador'd thy form, — and granted all thy pray'rs. Wretch that I am ! thofe vows fo lately made, Thofe tears of love, that could fo well perfuade, Are foreign from Lothario's condudl now, (For time obliterates, the lover's vow,) His oaths of conftancy were infincere, But mine, like oriental pearl, appear, Yes, falfe one ! they (hall ever faithful be, Unbroken, unimpair'd, by time or thee, And arm'd againft thy infidelity. Could I deferve this change? ah, no! 'tis clear Some brighter ftar, hath taught thy fteps to err, Hath fhone, to lead thee on a devious road, Where many, dazzl'd by her beams, have trod, Where, oft mifguided, they purfue her light, And truft their fafety, in the fhades of night, Till the falfe meteor, that appear'd a ftar, Turns dim, and foon evaporates, in air ; Then, undeceiv'd too late, with grief and pain They try to find the former path again, Long to behold fome planetary light, Some real ftar, that fhines ferenely bright, And vainly curfe the meteor they obey'd, By whom their hopes, are to defpair betray 'd. Love is impatient, ardent, unconfin'd, It leaves the bufy world's gay fcenes, behind, And roving on, to fome fequefter'd cell, Is there contented, with its mate to dwell ; } [ 24 ] The fame affe&ions rule each lover's heart, They wifh to meet, and with reluctance part ; Abfent they pine, and count the tedious hours, Till fate their happinefs again reftores, And when they meet, their bounding hearts confefs Unfeigned joy, and mutual tendernefs : ' But ah ! thefe foft fenfations, ceafe to move Lothario's foul, for he is fick of love, No real paffion now infpires his breaft, 'Tis only whim, in love's apparel drefs'd, His eyes with never-failing influence roll ; He deals the heart, to agonize the foul, Love and averfion bear alternate fvvay, His mode is to adore, and then betray ; He leaves Caliita to repine and mourn, To bear the world's reproof, and virtue's fcorn. Leaves her to all the horrors of defpair, Repentance, infamy, regret, and care. Yet flay, Lothario ! for a moment flay ! And bear me, from the open face, of day. Far, far fro n Altamont, I wifh to fly, Content in fome obfcure retreat, to die : Oh ! guide my fteps, unto fome difinal cell, Where only hermits, have been known to dwell, Where only rilk, in little murmurs break, And only winds, in gentle whifpers fpeak, Where, (fave the nightingale and folemn owl,) No voice difhirbs the contemplative foul ; Where oaks difTufe an awful ffiade, around, And namre, in her plainer! garb, is found ; Wlu re heaven, my fpangl'd canopy may be, A book my wealth, a fcull my company, [ *5 ] Where impious vows have not profan'd the air, And where no tracks of human fteps appear ; Where quiet reigns, where melancholy broods, Where fighing winds, are echo'd thro' the woods, And where the pomp of courts, and pride of drefs, Are things remote, from fuch a wildernefs. Yes ! the dark cavern, the umbrageous grove, Are meet receptacles, for flighted love ! If thou canft lead me to a fpot fo bled, Again, I may enjoy a dawn of reft, At leaft, unheard, I may expect to figh, Unknown to live, and undifturb'd, to die. There, leave me, happy in fo mild a fate, That faves me from the world's contempt, and hate, There, I may unmolefted weep and pray, And with my forrows wafh my faults away ; There, I may reft my weary head, in peace, Till fate, fhall bid my loath'd exiftence, ceafe : Then will I find, fome venerable tree, And carve my name, with painful induftry, Infcribe this epitaph, — my wrongs difclofe, Record my love, and reprefent my woes. EPITAPH. HERE lies a nymph ! whofe beauty was her bane, Whofe mind, in virtue's fchool, was taught in vain, That outward charms, acquire more excellence, When rul'd by chaftity, and innocence: She lov'd a youth, beyond her love of fame, For him, difgrae'd the fplendour of her name, And when he ceas'd with partial eyes, to view Her charms, fhe gladly from the world withdrew, [ * ] Abandon'd ev'ry fcene that pleafure paints, To court kind angels, and propitious faints, And like a dying fwan, to yield her breath, In tuneful hymns, amidft the frowns of death: Altho' her dear Lothario prov'd forfworn, And left his victim to repent, and mourn, Yet at this moment, fhe forgives the wrong, And reconcilement, trembles on her tongue ; Him whom fhe fhou'd defpife, fhe deigns to blefs, And dies the martyr of her tendernefs. May other nymphs, by her difgrace, forbear To think their faces will continue fair, Their lover's conftant, or their friends fincere ! Beauty is doom'd to be of tranfient date, And love, is oft the harbinger of hate, At beft, indifference coldly fleps between, Whilfl forrow calls on death, to clofe the fcene : Then, muft the fading form lofe all its grace, And ev'ry blooming charm, defert the face, The broken heart, fhall rapidly decay, And all the dreams of pleafure, pafs away, The pulfe fhall ceafe to beat, the eye to weep, And ev'ry trouble, in the grave lhall fleep. Oh ! if Lothario wanders thro' the grove, And finds the bones of his departed love, From his fix'd eye, may pity force the tear, On his pale cheek, may penitence appear, May he, with fighs, lament Califta's doom, And lay her reliques, in an humble tomb. } C 27 J THE PILGRIM; OR, ETHELBERT and EMMA. JYllLD evening, o'er the world began To caft a dufky made, When lo ! a Pilgrim, wander'd flow And fad, along the glade. He to Landarvan Caftle came, Where erft Lord Edgar dwelt, And at the crofs, before the gate, In adoration knelt. Lord Edgar was a Baron bold, An only child had he, Her face as lovely as the morn, Her mind from error free. Nor envy, fraud, or malice, found Accefs to Emma's mind, To pious prayers, to virtuous deeds, Her temper was inclined. [ 28 ] Heir to her father's great eftatc, Munificent me liv'd, And frorri her bounteous hand, the poor, Their daily bread received ; Yet forrow prey'd on Emma's cheek, Her looks could well explain The anguifh of a wounded heart, That dar'd not to complain : Silent (he pined, and like a flower Droop 'd her dejected head ; The fmile of joy, the bloom of youth, From Emma's cheek, was fled. At length the wealthy Edgar died, And left his child to mourn, Yet this, was not the only lofs, Her tender heart had borne. Among a train of am'rous fwains, Who Edgar's daughter woo'd, She youthful Ethelbert alone, With partial favor view'd. His title was an honeft name, His fortune was his fword, He nobly fcorn'd a fraudful lie, And never broke his word. Perfuafion grac'd whate'er he faid, It fparkled in his eye, It hung upon his rofy lip, And breath'd in every figh. [ 29 J Their fouls the power of fympathy Alike were form'd to prove, The fame their joys, the fame their griefs, The fame their artlefs love. Yes, Emma loved ! but in her bread The painful fecret kept, She, unobferv'd by Edgar, mourn 'd, And oft unheeded, wept ; Nor e'er did Ethelbert believe Himfelf to Emma dear, He dar'd not augur from a figh, Nor truft a falling tear. " She never told her love !" but pride Inflamed Lord Edgar's breaft, He faw that lowly Ethelbert, His vows to her addrefs'd ; With fpeech fevere, with angry frown, He urged him to depart ; The hopelefs youth in (ilence went : — (Defpair was in his heart.) And foon 'twas rumour'd he expir'd, In fome obfeure retreat, — The wretched Emma heard the news, And mourn'd her lover's fate : Deep was her grief, in filent woe, To heaven's decree fhe bow'd. Nor held acquaintance with the gay, Nor converfe with the proud. [ 3o J THE Pilgrim on the caftle gazed, Where gothic grandeur fhone : — The turrets crown'd with battlements, Where hoary mofs had grown, The walls with ivy mantled o'er, The drawbridge at the gate, The fculptur'd fhield, the femblance bore Of venerable ftate. Trembling he knock'd — the door unbarr'd, An aged man appear 'd, The hand of time, had thin'd his hair, And filver'd o'er his beard : What brings thee hither ? he exclaim'd; The Pilgrim thus rejoin'd, " A fafe afylum, in thefe walls, I hope at laft to find. Faint with fatigue, and worn with woe, From Edgar, let me crave, Since now my pilgrimage is done, The comfort of a grave : Tell him, that hate, and cruel fcorn, May now their triumph fee, Thefe walls, which were my paradife, My fepulchre fhall be." Alas ! reply'd the ancient (lave, In death my mafter fleeps. — Where is his child ? " the Pilgrim crys, " She lives, and hourly weeps ; [ 3i ] Not only for Lord Edgar's death, Her heart is pierc'd with wee, 'Tis faid, that for a lover loft, The tears of Emma flow. Tho' wealth, tho' honors are her own, Tho' bleffings crowd her door, Bankrupt in happinefs, fhe lives, Magnificent, — yet poor ; Poor, in thofe comforts which alone From love and friendship Row, Her heart is dead to ev'ry joy, And lives, but to beftow. I've often grieved to fee the tears, Drop on her fnowy brcaft, Whilft thus her melancholy thoughts, The mourner has expreft. " With joy, with gratitude, to heaven, My riches I'd refign, If Ethelbert, in fome lone cot Still lived, and cou'd be mine ; Nor peace, nor mirth, nor health, to me Their bleffings can impart, This wafting frame, is worn with care, And forrow, breaks my heart." He faid — the Pilgrim's manly breaft, Heav'd with a bitter groan ; A ring, he from his finger drew, Where diamonds brightly fhone, [ 3* ] Some tumult feem'd to make his frame, He paus'd — he drop'd a tear, Then cry'd aloud, " to Emma go, This ring, to Emma bear." The fervant took the ring in hafte, And to his lady went ; The Pilgrim grateful unto heaven, His knee devoutly, bent : Eager he gazed upon the gate, The portals open flew, And in her fable garb array 'd, Fair Emma, met his view. " Where is the Pilgrim?" fhe exclaim'd, (Half wild with her alarms. ) She gazed upon his well-known face, And fainted in his arms. " Yes! Emma, darling of my foul, Bed ! faireft ! of thy kind ! Behold thy Ethelbert is come, To heal thy wounded mind ; i When from the caftle I rctir'd, By Edgar's harm command, Urg'd by an impulfe of defpair, I left my native land ; But wherefo'er I went, my heart Could only point to thee, Thou wert my leading ftar on more, My beacon when at fea: [ 33 ] This ring, which Emma's bounty gave, My only comfort prov'd, It fometimes feem'd to whifper truths, And fay, I was belov'd. To ferve my King againft his foes, Was next my honeft aim, With glory to refign my breath, Or live to merit fame. When war, and flaughter, round me prefs'd, Thou ftill wert prefent there, For fancy brought thy peaceful form, Amidft the fcenes of war. When viftory on our fide declar'd, And peace had fheath'd the fword, I long'd once more to fee the maid, Whofe prefence I ador'd. Diftra&ed with contending thoughts, I hither chofe to come, Difguis'd beneath a Pilgrim's garb, From thee, to learn my doom. Here, I refolved to meet with death, From Edgar's vengeful hand, Or be encourag'd ftill to live, By Emma's kind command. " Bleft be the will of providence !" The joyful Emma cry'd, " Which fent fome holy mefTenger, " To be my lover's guide : Vol. I. [ 34 ] " By heaven, thou furely wert infpired \ " For heaven the deed approves! " It crowns thy matchlefs conftancy, " And fandtifies our loves : " Yes, Ethelbert ! this hand is thine, " We meet, no more to part ; " I only have my hand to give, " You long have had my heart : " No more fhall fullen dark difpair, " My fad companion be, " For heaven, in pity to my tears, " Gives happinefs, — in thee." [ 35 3 ELEGY; Taken from the French Poem of FERNAND et ELMIRE. A Mournful filence reign 'd throughout the globe, Thick noifome vapours hover'd round the moon, And Cynthia riling in her darkeft robe, Forbade the ftars to pierce the awful gloom. The midnight hour was pad,- — yet on his bed Fernandez fought for calm repofe in vain, The downy pillow that fuitain'd his head, Could yield no antidote to footh his pain. Thofe fecret pangs that confeience can impart, Smote his falfe bofom in this filent hour, Remorfe fat gnawing at his perjured heart, And from his mind each trace of comfort bore. A feeble light acrofs his chamber fhone, W hilft a fair phantom, veiled in a fhroud, Undrew his curtain with a hollow groan, And from her palid lips thefe accents flow'd. Perfidious lover ! from her early tomb, The viiflimof thy cruelty appears, Behold the loft, betray "d Elmira come, To claim thy pity, and excite thy fears. D a [ 36 ] " This is the only time, wherein my made " Has power the falfe Fernandez to moled, " Oh ! let the awful voice of truth perfuade : " Oh ! let me bring contrition to thy breaft. " Too well you know the fatal caufe, whereby " My peace was poifon'd, and my life oeftroy'd ; " When you were falfe, I could but wifh to die, " Whilft you my conqueft and my grief enjoy'd. " You oft had fworn my paflion to requite, " You fwore your conflancy fhou'd laft for years, " You faid my eyes like heavenly Mars were bright, " Yet meant to dim their brilliancy by tears. (" Thus does the crocodile his prey entice, " With counterfeited tears, and harmlefs mien, " Thy plea was love, thy real motive vice, " Thy heart feroce, thy countenance ferene.) " Deceitful youth ! on thee the fates beftow'd " A rich aflemblage of perfuafive charms, " I dared believe thee not lefs fair, than good, " Thy fond profeffions, filenced my alarms. " My foul was innocent, and free from art, " Difpos'd to think that others were the fame, " Thy words perverted, and feduced my heart, " And ere 1 thought of danger, — murder'd fame. «' Undone, betray d, abandon'd, and forlorn, " What more had I with this vain world to do ? " I could not bear thy coldnefs, or thy fcorn, " And therefore gladly from the world withdrew. [ 37 ] " The charms that firft engaged your roving eye, " By the cold hand of death, are fpoil'd, and gone, " Pale is the cheek, that wore the rofe's dye, " Dull is the eye, which once fo brilliant fhone. " This difmal fhroud, is now my only drefs, " My mortal frame the greedy worms devour, " The bofom of the earth, is my recefs, " Till the laft day my freedom may reftore. " A dawn of day, above the mountain peeps, " And warns me from thy fight to fteal away, " The fympathetic morn in dewdrows weeps, " And mourns my fate, tho' fhe condemns my ftay. " This laft adieu, pernicious youth ! receive, " From her whofe love exifts beyond the grave, " If you ihou'd ever for Elmira grieve, " Her tomb with tears of decent forrow, lave ; " The grateful incenfe of your tears, and fighs, " Will fweetly footh my melancholy made, '* And prove a juft atoning facrifice, " To her, whom living you to lhame betray'd." She faid, and vanifh'd, with a piercing cry, (Defcending to the regions of the dead.) In vain the youth purfued her with his eye, The fair, the vifionary form, was fled. The jocund birds their carols fweet began, The bleating flocks among the paftures ftray'd, Fernandez from his bed, diftradted ran, And fought the grave, wherein his love was laid, [ 3« ] There in the tomb, his wild ideas framed The mournful image of the haplefs fair — Affiftance from the hand of death he claim'd, Nor alk'd in vain, — for death allured him there. Thrice did he call upon Elmira's fhade, — To clafp the phantom in his arms, he try'd, Then on her marble tomb reclined his head, Breathed forth a penitential figh, and died. [ 39 ] DIONE. 1782. BLEAK blew the wind acrofs the moor, The moon but dimly fhone, Each fick'ning ftar conceal'd her head, And Cynthia fill'd her throne. When the lone Hermit of the vale, Unheedful of the wind, Perus'd the legendary page, For ftudious minds defign'd. Remote from men, the hoary fagc His peaceful moments pafs'd, His days in folitude were fpent, Yet feem'd to fly too fad. Contemplative of foul was he, His wants, his wifhes few, From nature's fertile magazine, He daily knowledge drew. To feed the haimlefs feather'd race, To raife the drooping flowers, To mark the labours of the bee, Emlpoy'd his happy hours. [ 40 ] Now had he trim'd his little lamp, And by the feeble light Intent on philofophic lore, Pafs'd half the hours of night ; When fhrill was heard a difmal found," Upon the dreary heath, (As when fome ghoft, with hideous cry, Forbodes impending death.) Swift from his feat the Hermit rofe, To fee if aught diftrefs'd, Benighted, wander'd o'er the moor, And fought relief* or reft ; Lo ! by the pale moon's glim'ring light, He faw a damfel fair, Who underneath a poplar fat, And rent her flowing hair ; Unheedful of his near approach, She rofe not from the ground, But with a ftrange diforder'd air, Look'd earneftly around. Wild was her eye, and pale her cheek, Pale as the afpin leaf, Feeble (he fcem'd, and fick at heart, But lovely in her grief. With tender fpeech the pitying fage, Invok'd her to his cell, When ftarting up, fhe thus began Her frantick thoughts to tell. [ 4i ] ft On yonder primrofe bank, reclines " The object of my love ; *' Hah ! let us then furprize him there, " Left he fhou'd gain the grove. " If he the fhady grove fhou'd gain, " If he forfakes the plain, '* Ah gentle Hermit ! truft my words, " Our fearch will be in vain ; " For he, each maze within the grove, " Knows, (but too well) to find : — 11 He flies upon a winged horfe, " And leaves me far behind. " While thus opprefs'd with fleep he lies, " We to the bank will creep, f* And bind him faft in chains of gold, " That I no more may weep. " But fee ! my cruel lover wakes, " And from Dione flies, *' Stay, perjur'd fwain ! — he turns away, " He fhuns my piercing eyes. (i Oh ! that I were a dove, to make , " My paflage thro' the air ! *' I'd haften to that myftic grove, " And meet my lover there. " The fiend inconftancy ! has made " That grove, her own recefs, *' Mankind have wings, and thither fly, " But we, have no accefs. C 42 ] ' ' Bleft were rriy days ! ferene my nights ! " Ere Lindamor was known, " He came, he feign 'd to love me true, " I heard — and was undone. " Farewell ! my days of innocence " Devoid of ftrife and care, " Farewell ! to my del u five hopes — " My fwain is not fincere. " No fire had I, to counfel me, " My father flept in peace ; — (" Ah ! why did not the hand of fate, " My foul with his releafe? " If you had feen my fhepherd's eyes, '*' You wou'd not blame my love ; " His was a radiant eye, whofe glance " Had power the heart to move. " Ye Gods! to hear my lover fpeak, " Was mufick to my ear ; " Ah ! wherefore did I take delight, " His dangerous words to hear ? " I fhou'd have fear'd his matchlefs charms, " I fhou'd have doubted long, " I fhou'd not have admired his eyes, " Nor liften'd to his tongue. " When with his converfation bleft, " How fwiftly fled the hours ! - " My only care was him to pleafe, " My paths were ftrew'd with flowers : [ 43 ] " Judge then my pangs, when I awoke " From dreams, by error made, " To fee the folly of my love, " And find myfelf betray 'd. " Falfe Lindamor ungrateful prov'd, " When he my heart had gain'd, " And broke his promifes of love, " A love, he only feign'd ! " Beware, ye maidens ! left ye meet, " The fwain who from me flies, " Ah ! liften not unto his tongue, " And gaze not, on his eyes : " Thofe eyes, the mifchief firft began, " They fped the cruel dart — " His tongue, perfuaded me to err, — " His falfhood, breaks my heart ! " My wretched days are almoft fpun, " I feek my father's tomb, " Where deadly nightfhade loves to grow, " And yew trees, call a gloom. " Oh pardon, facred (hade ! if I '* Thy patronage implore, " And wifh befide a parent's tomb, " To fleep, — and wake no more. '* Come ! riding on the clouds of night, " Ye fpirits of the air ! '* Ye vifionary fhapes defcend ! u And grant Dione's prayer ; L 44 ] " Oh come ! and with a cyprefs wreath " Crown this devoted head ! " The willow, (hall my covering be, " And Aconite, my bed. " I fee difpair, with haggard mien, " And limbs of giant fize, " She beckons me, — I muft away ! " She claims her facrifice. " Thefe aching eyes fhall ceafe to weep, " This guilty heart to beat, — '* Ah me ! 'tis hard fo foon to die, " The victim of deceit. " From my example, maidens, learn, " To doubt, when men perfuade, — *' Remember, by credulity, " Dione was betray 'd. " I charge you, Hermit ! if you fee " The lovely perjur'd youth, " Remind him, there are powers above, " Who puniih want of truth. " Oh tell him ! if he will repent, " I mall once more awake, " And gather violets, and pinks, " For him, a wreath to make. " I will forgive, and — (if I can,) " Forget, his wrongs to me, " His wrongs to me, who lov'd him long, " With matchlefs conftancy. C 45 ] " Yet, are not all his fex alike ? " Inconftant ! falfe ! unkind ! " No vows, no promifes of love, " Have power, their hearts to bind. " The fault is ours, if when they fwear, " We foolifhly believe, " But fure the greatefl crime is theirs, " Who praclife, to deceive. " Then let me fly the haunts of men, " And feek my father's tomb, " Where I mall bid adieu to love, " Nor think of ills to come." She faid — the gentle Hermit wept ; To haften on me try'd, But funk upon the dewy grafs, Heav'd a deep figh, — and died. — [ 47 ] COMALA; A DRAMATIC POEM, I N THREE ACTS, Taken from a Poem o/'Offian. December, 1784. C 48 ] DRAMATIS PERSON JE. Fingal, King of Morven. Morni, an ancient chief in Fingal's army. Hidallan, a warrior in love with Comala. Morar, a druid. Comala, Princefs of Iniftore. Melilcoma, daughter of Morni. Min vane, her attendant and friend. Chorus of bards and virgins. C 49 1 COMALA; _ i ....... , ACT I. SCENE I. THE ROCKS OF ARDVEN. A View of the Sea in the back Ground. Melilcoma and Minvane. MlNVANE. NOT the clear watchlight on the beacon plac'd, Which tells the pilot, that his native coaft Now yields him an afylum from his fears, Can be more welcome than the news to me, Of your brave father's reconciliation, With noble Fingal : — it is meet that fouls Replete with valour, and congenial virtue, Shou'd live in unifon. Melilcoma. Not lefs, Minvane ! Do I rejoice, in thefe unlook'd-for tidings ; — Yet I with ardor long to fee my fire, Ere the loud din of arms, with cruel force, Bids him attendant on the fate of Fingal, Rufh to the fight, and join the martial throng ; Vol.. I. E [ 5° ] For ah ! I muft confefs unufual fear, Dwells on my foul, whene'er I meditate, Upon the chance of war ; and in my dreams Lad night, confus'd and horrible ideas Of tumult, and the ftrife of arms, appal'd My frighted fancy. — I beheld the form Of Fingal, and an enterprizing train Of combatants, who haften'd to the field : When lo! death's hideous figure flalk'd behind, And clos'd the long proceffion. MlNVANE. Idle fears ! Why fhou'd not victory with rapid wing Still follow, wherefoe'er the hero leads ? Is he not valiant ? noble ? merciful ? Renown'd in battle ? and belov'd in peace ? Beneath his banners, juftice waves her fword, And heaven approves the caufe — yes, Melilcoma ! The powers above will equally protecl: Your father's life, and fend him from the war With laurels crown'd, and honor 'd with applaufe. Melilcoma. Behold the druid comes ! Enter Morar. Sage Morar, hail ! Morar. Handmaid of virtue ! whom the fates ordain To give new fplendor to the houfe of Morni, [ 5* ] Peace be unto thee. I am fraught with tidings Of happieft import for thine ear, — this moment, From your brave fire I come. Melilcoma. Bleft be the found ! Ah let me fly, and pay my duty to him. — Morar. Sufpend your fond impatience. - Melilcoma. Hah! Morar. He fends me, Thus to prepare thee, to receive a ftranger ; For with him comes Comala. Mi n vane. Sora's daughter ? Morar. From Iniftore the lovely maiden came, Attendant on the fteps of Morven's chief, Whom fecretly fhe lov'd, — by fierce Hidallan She long was courted ; to avoid his paffion, And follow one on whom her heart was fix'd, Clad in a martial garb fhe left the coaft Of Iniftore, and fail'd with Fingal's chiefs, Acrofs the ftormy waves, to Selma's fhore. £ 2 C 5* ] Conceal'd, (ev'n from Hidallan,) me attended With humbleft duty, and attentive zeal, The King of Morven : — he at length remark 'd Her tender fcrvices, obferv'd her face, (Which feem'd fo ill adapted to fatigue, And to the drefs fhe wore) he faw the tear Of fearful fhame deal down her blufhing cheek ; He read confeflion in her eye. The chief With pride perceiv'd the conqueft he had made, And claim'd the lovely captive for his bride. Soon was the ftory known ; nor did Hidallan Frown at their vows of everlafting love : Cured by difdain, he filently obferv'd, Her paflion for the Prince : but war fufpends The nuptial rites, and Fingal trulls Comala „ To Morni's care, who brings the penfive maid, To dwell in Ardven's rocks with Melilcoma. Melilcoma. Come then, Minvane ! let us hafte to meet them, , And by a due attention to the ftranger, Prove our obedience to my father's voice. [Exit Melilcoma and Minvane. Morar. The chace is o'er, with bows unftrung, I fee The hunters crofs the plain. Still evening, {beds Her dufky garment, o'er the filent groves, And fprinkles dew upon the turfy lawn. — Soft mufick, fuch as oft in Selma's hall Has ftol'n upon mine ear, with diftant found Breaks o'er the hill, and in majeftic pride The filvcr crefcent that adorns the night, Peeps from the high expanfe \ methinks I fee [ 53 ] The fhadowy vifages of former times, Half veil'd among the clouds, — in even fcales The fate of Morven's chief is pois'd. Oh time ! (Thou ftern progreflive being ! who with ftrides Gigantick, towards the grave impells our feet ;) Soon wilt thou bring to light th' eventful hour, When Selma's deftiny, fhall be decided. Look down, ye fhades of venerable heroes ! And ihield the guardian of our liberties: May fome good angel on his fteps attend, Direct his fpear, protect his facred life, And lead him on, to victory ! and fame ! So fhall the minftrels join in choral lays Of grateful joy, — and Offian's tuneful harp, With higher notes, fhall fill the echoing grove ! [Exit Morar. SCENE. II. Among the Rocks of Ardven, in one of which Morn i V Cave is feen, fuppos'd to be the dwelling of Melil- COMA and MlNVANE. Time early morning. Coma la comes from the Cave. iHE venerable chief is gone — his daughter With duteous love attends him on his way, To the proud fummit of yon pine-clad hill. Their ab fence gives me leifure to indulge My fad reflections, and to mourn my fate. Where art thou, Fingal ? — fruitlefs are my cries ! On the thin air they float, and die away [ $4 ] Among the rocks — a folemn filence reigns, Save when officious echo mocks my grief, And with reverberating notes, prolongs The words of forrow, — tow'rds the fea in Vain I turn my eyes, — a mighty ocean fpreads Its front capacious to my fight, — yet there, No veflel ploughs the waves, no fail appears. Enter Mi n vane. Forgive me, lady ! if unafk'd I come, To interrupt your mournful folitude, And offer my poor fervices. Comala. Alas! Your care, and kind attention, claim my thanks ; But they are thrown away, upon a wretch, Whofe mind is tindtur'd with a fable hue, And fit for folitude alone. MlNVANE. Defpair, Belongs to timid fouls, that dare not truft In providence, — believe me, fair Comala ! 'Tis cowardice, to droop in fuch a caufe ; A caufe fo great, fo noble, that the (hades Of your brave anceftors will ftoop to fee The fight, and to protect your hero's fame : Good omens have convinc'd me of fuccefs. — [ 55 3 COMALA. What mean thy words ? fome myftery is hid Within thy bofom. Speak ! I charge thee, fpeak ! MlNVANE. Not in my dreams alone, have I beheld The forms of other times ; but as I fat By yon clear fountain, at the dawn of day, I faw a fpirit. Comala. Hah ! is it poflible ? Minvane. By all my hopes 'tis true, the airy form Bow'd from his cloudy feat, and pointed thrice, Towards the hoflile field. Comala. Tremendous apparition ! Minvane. I flarted to behold him near advance ; But with no look of wrath, the fpirit came. Thrice did he fhout with a triumphant voice, The name of Morven's chief : then pafs'd away, Soft as the breezes, fighing on the grafs. Comala. Perhaps it was a fummons for my hero, To join his kindred faints. Immortal powers ! [ 56 ] Forgive me, if my mind, ungratefully Turns to defpondence ev'ry circumftance, Of doubtful afpecl. Tis in vain I try To calm my fears, and to expect fuccefs. Minvane. Yet why fhou'dft thou defpond ? is not the hero Born to command ? invincible in arms ? — Comala. ' Oh ! he is more than language can defcribe : He moves a demi god ; and from his fword, Innumerable deaths are fcatter'd round. In conqueft he is merciful as brave, Nor ever yet has fuffer'd cruelty, To ftain the laurels, which his valour won. But 'tis that valour, that undaunted courage, Which terrifies my timid foul, — too well I know him fearlefs, daring in the fight, And ardent for renown. In dreams I fee My lover pale, and dying at my feet : I fee the river Carun, red in blood, And Caracul, in dreadful pomp, appears. Alarm'd I wake ; and frantic with defpair Shriek to the echoing walls. — Oh ! if thy foul Has ever known the violence of love, Or can imagine what Comala feels, Pity the weaknefs of a wretched heart, And kindly make allowance for my fears. Enter Melilcoma. Forgive me, Fair Princefs ! if afFe&ion to a father, C 57 ] Led me a while from all the offices Of hofpitality, and friendfhip, due To your exalted rank, and noble virtues. Comala. The caufe wants no excufe, a father's claims, (And fuch a father's,) fhou'd be firft attended. And as for me, I am a wretch forlorn, Who has forfaken country, fortune, friends, To follow Fingal, to a foreign land, And be dependant on the care of ftrangers : A woman, fo immers'd in the deep horrors Of war, and bioodfhed, that altho' the fcenes Exift at prefent only in idea, I am not worthy thy fociety. — Melilcoma. The more fevere thy griefs, of greater ufe Converfe with others, who have hope in view, May be to thy afflicted mind — in heaven, Repofe full confidence, and dare believe That power, which has fo long preferv'd thy hero, Will not defert him in the time of battle. As tow'rds the brow of yonder verdant hill, By venerable Morni's fide I ftray'd, We met Hidallan, who with chearful fmile Accofted us, and then reprov'd my father, For being abfent from the royal camp : " I come," faid he, " to call thee to the council ; " Nor the foft ties of love, or filial fondnefs, - " Shou'd be attended to, in fuch an hour : " The noble Fingal, fir'd with martial fpirit, [ 58 ] u Expects impatiently, the day of battle ; *' Chides the flow-footed hours, and hopes to lay " His laurels at the feet of fair Comala, " Before the fetting of to-morrow's fun." Comala. Brave, gen 'rous youth ! I blufh to fay, HidaHan! How much I have defpis'd thy fervices, And profFer'd friendfhip. May oblivion veil The part ! and may thy deeds of loyalty, Meet the reward of honor, and renown ! I thank thee, Melilcoma, for thy kindnefs, And wifh I cou'd refume a heart at eafe, But fear has gain'd pofTeffion of my mind, And like a watchful, furly centinel, Drives ev'ry other fentiment, (but love,} Far from my trembling bofom. Melilcoma. When the ftorm That overclouds your fearful mind is paft, Soft happinefs will gain dominion there. As the gay rainbow, (in a thoufand tints Bedeck 'd by nature,) fpreads her vivid arch Acrofs the hemifphere, fo joy will fpring From the paft dregs of forrow, to reftore Comala's peace of mind. Comala. I have been told, That in a gloomy cave, not diftant far From hence, the druid Morar lives retir'd ; (Him, who this morning we beheld,) his fkill, [ 59 1 And long experience, in unravelling Omens of intricate and wond'rous nature, Makes me defirous to converfe with him: This evening, to his cave I will repair, And queflion him, about my hero's fate. His holy converfe, may afTuage my fears, His pious prayers, may intercede for mine. Till then, within thy dwelling I will flay, Where I will tell the ftory of my woes j And as you hear, how tenderly I love, You will not wonder, when you fee me mourn. \Exeunt, [ 60 ] ACT II. SCENE I. — Evening. A plain before the Cave ng the cyprefs in funereal wreathes. Haplcfs Comala ! thy untimely fate Shall in the poet's page recorded be, And pity (hall impel the reader's tear. Behold the meteor's gleam around her head ! And from their awful clouds, methinks I fee Her kindred ghofts bend to receive the fhade. The moonbeams lift her foul ! In Selma's hall [ 87 ] The minftrels (hall attune their dulcet harps To fair Comala's praife ; and at her tomb, Thofe who have known the force of love, fhall come To pay their orifons, and mourn her fate. [ *9 1 COMALA; DRAMATIC POEM. [ 9° 1 IN the Dramatic Poem of Comala, the Author has been obliged to alter fome, and to omit feveral of the expreffions in Oflian's Poem, and has alfo intro- duced the character of Minvane, inftead of Derfa- grena, who is in the original ftory reprefented as ano- ther daughter of Morni. As many of the expreffions as cou'd be copied from Oflian have been inferted, and the Poem is tranferibed and affix'd to the following pages, to (hew how very nearly fome of the fpeeches correfpond. Thofe alterations which poetical licenfe allow'd the Author to make, it is hoped will be excufed. The character of Morar is not in the original Poem. In another of Odian's Poems, Morni is reprefented as having been at variance with Fingal. C 91 1 THIS Poem is valuable on account of the light it throws on the antiquity* of Oilian's compofitions. The Caracul mention 'd here is the fame with Cara- calla, the fon of Severus, who in the year 211, com- manded an expedition againft the Caledonians. The variety of the meafure fhews that the Poem was origin- ally fet to mufick, and perhaps prefented before the Chiefs upon folemn occafions. Tradition has handed clown the ftory more complete than it is in the Poem. *' Comala the daughter of Sarno, King of Iniitore, " or Orkney Iflands, fell in love with Fingal the fon " of Comhal, at a feaft to which her father had invited " him. Her paflion was fo violent, that fhe follow'd " him difguis'd like a youth, who wanted to be em- *' ploy'd in his wars. She was foon difcover'd by " Hidallan, the fon of Lamor, one of Fingal's heroes, " whofe love (he had flighted fome time before. Her " romantic paflion, and beauty, recommended her fo " much to the King, that he refolved to make her his " wife, when news was brought him of Caracul's ex- •" pedition. He march'd to flop the progrefs of the " enemy, and Comala attended him. He left her on " a hill in fight of Caracul's army, when he went to " battle, having previoully promised, if he furvived, to (i return that night." - Hidallan was fent by Fingal to give notice to Co- mala of his return ; he, to revenge himfelf on her for flighting his love fome time before, told her the King was kill'd in battle. * Crona is the name of a fmall ftream that runs into the Carun. C 92 ] THE PERSONS. fingaly Hidallan, Comala, Melikoma, -\ r. r > daughters of Mornt. JUeijagremiy J y Ba) ds. [ 93 3 COMALA; Dersagrena. lHE chace is over — no noife on Ardven but the torrent's roar. Daughter of Morni, come from Crona's banks. Lay down the bow, and take the harp. Let the night come on with fongs, and our joy be great on Ardven. Melilcoma. And night comes on, thou blue-eyed maid ; gray night grows dim along the plain. I faw a deer at Crona's ftream : a mofly bank he feem'd thro' the gloom, but foon be bounded away ; a meteor play'd round his branchy horns, and the awful faces of other times look'd from the clouds of Crona. Dersagrena. Thefe are the figns of Fingal's death — the King of Shields is fallen ! and Caracul prevails. Rife, Comala, from thy rocks : daughter of Sarno, rife in tears : the youth of thy love is low, and his ghoft is already on our hills. [ 94 ] Melilcoma. There Comala fits forlorn ! Two gray dogs near fhakc their rough ears, and catch the flying breeze. Her red cheek refts on her arm, and the mountain wind is in her hair. She turns her blue rolling eyes towards the field of his promife. Where art thou, O Fingal ? for the night is gathering round. Comala. O Carun of the dreams! why do I behold thy waters rolling in blood ? Has the noife of the battle been heard on thy banks, and fleeps the King of Mor- ven ? — Rife, moon, thou daughter of the fky ! Look from between thy clouds, that I may behold the light of his fteel on the field of his promife — or rather let the meteor that lights our departed fathers thro' the night, come with its red light, to fhew me the way to my fallen hero. Who will defend me from forrow ? who from the love of Hidallan ? Long fhall Comala look before fhe can behold Fingal, in the midft of his hoft, bright as the beam of the morning in the cloud of an early fhower. Hidallan. Roll, thou miff, of gloomy Crona, roll on the path of the hunter — hide his fteps from mine eyes, and let me remember my friend no more. The bands of bat- tle are fcatter'd, and no crowding fteps are round the noife of his fleel. O Carun, roll thy ftreams of blood, for the chief of the people fell. Comala. Who fell on Carun 's grafly banks ? fon of the cloudy night ! was he white as the fnow of Ardven s C 95 ] blooming as the bow of the fhower ? was his hair like the mid of the hill ? foft and curling, in the day of the fun ? was he like the thunder of heaven in battle i fleet as the roe of the defert. HlDALLAN. Oh that I might behold his love, fair-leaning from her rock. Her red eye dim in tears, and her blufhing cheek half hid in her locks. Blow, thou gentle breeze, and lift the heavy locks of the maid, that I may behold her white arm and lovely cheek of her forrow. Comala. And is the fon of Comhal fallen, chief of the mourn- ful tale ? The thunder rolls on the hills ! — the light- ning flies on wings of fire ! But they frighten not Co- mala ; for her Fingal fell. Say, chief of the mournful tale, fell the breaker of the fhields ? HlDALLAN. The nations are fcatter'd on their hills : for they mall hear the voice of the chief no more. Comala. Confufion purfue thee over thy plains, and deftruc- tion overtake thee, thou King of the world. Few be thy fteps to thy grave, and let one virgin mourn thee. Let her be like Comala, tearful in the days of her youth. — Why haft thou told me, Hidallan, that my hero fell ? I might have hoped a little while his return, and have thought I faw him on the diftant rock ; a tree might have deceiv'd me with his appearance, and the [ 96 ] wind of the hill been the found of his horn in mine ear. — Oh that I were on the banks of Carun! that my tears might be warm on his cheek. HlDALLAN. He lies not on the banks of Carun : on Ardven heroes raife his tomb. Look on them, O moon, from thy clouds ; be thy beam bright on his breaft, that Comala may behold him in the light of his armour. Comala. Stop, ye fons of the grave ! till I behold my love ; he left me at the chace alone. I knew not that he went to war. He faid he wou'd return with the night, and the King of Morven is return'd. Why didft thou not tell me that he wou'd fall, O trembling fon of the rock ! * Thou haft feen him in the blood of his youth, and thou didft not tell Comala ! Melilcoma. What found is that on Ardven ? who is that bright in the vale r who comes like the ftrength of rivers when their crowded waters glitter to the moon. Comala. Who is it but the foe of Comala, the fon of the King of the world ! ghoft of Fingal ! do thou from thy cloud direct Comala's bow. Let him fall like the hart of the defert. — It is Fingal in the crow'd of his * By the fon of the rock, fhe means a druid- It is pro- bable that fome of the order of the druids remained as late as the beginning of the reign of Fingal, and that Comala had confulted one of them concerning the event of the war with Caracul. I 97 ] ghofls. — Why doft thou come, my love, to frighten and pleafe my foul ? FlNGAL. Raife, ye bards of the fong, the wars of the ftreamy Carun.* Caracul has fled from my arms, along the fields of his pride. He fets far diftant, like a meteor that inclofes a fpirit of night, when the winds drive it over the heath, and the dark woods are gleaming around. I heard a voice like the breeze of my hills; is it the huntrefs of Galmal ? the white-handed daughter of Sarno ? Look from thy rocks, my love, and let me hear the voice of Comala. Comala. Take me to the cave of thy reft, O lovely fon of death ! — Fingal. Come to the cave of my reft. — The ftorm is over, and the fun is on our fields. Come to the cave of my reft, huntrefs of echoing Cona. Comala. He is return 'd with his fame. I feel the right-hand of -his battles. — But I muft reft befide the rock, till my foul fettles from fear. — Let the harp be near, and raife the fong, ye daughters of Morni ! DERSAGRENA.t Comala has (lain three deer on Ardven, and the fire * Carun, or Carraon, a winding river. It ftill retains the name of Carron and falls into the Forth fome miles to the north of Falkirk. t Mention'd in the foregoing Poem under the name of Minvane, as a more poetical found. Vol, I. H I 98 J afcends on the rock ; go to the feaft of Comala, King of the woody Morven. FlNGAL. Raife, ye fons of the fong, the wars of the ftreamy Carun, that my white-handed maid may rejoice, while I behold the feaft of my love. Bards. Roll, ftreamy Carun, roll in joy, the fons of battle fled. The fteed is not feen on our fields, and the wings * of their pride fpread in other lands. The fun will now rife in peace, and the fhadows defcend in joy, the voice of the chace will be heard, and the fhields hang in the hall. — Our delight will be in the war of the ocean, and our hands be red in the blood of Lochlin. Roll, ftreamy Carun, roll in joy, the fons of battle fled. Melilcoma. Defcend, ye light-mifts from high, ye moonbeams, lift her foul. — Pale lies the maid at the rock ! Comala is no more ! FlNGAL. Is the daughter of Sarno dead ? the white-bofom'd maid of my love r — Meet me, Comala, on my heaths when I fit alone at the ftreams of my hills. HlDALLAN. Ceas'd the voice of the huntrefs of Galmal ? why did J trouble the foul of the maid ? when fhall I fee thee with joy in the chace of the dark-brown hinds ? * Perhaps the Poet alludes to the Roman eagle. [ 99 1 FlNGAL. Youth of the gloomy brow ! no more malt thou feaft in my halls. — Thou fhalt not purfue my chace, and my foes fhall not fall by thy fword. — Lead me to the place of her reft, that I may behold her beauty. Pale fhe lies at the rock, and the cold winds lift her hair. Her bow-firing founds in the blaft, and her arrow was broken in her fall. Raife the praife of the daugher of Sarno, and give her name to the wind of the hills. Bards. See ! meteors roll around the maid, — and moon- beams lift her foul! — Around her from their clouds bend the awful faces of her fathers : Sarno * of the gloomy brow, and the red-rolling eyes of Fidallan.t When fhall thy white hand arife, and thy voice be heard on our rocks ? The maids fhall feek thee on the heath, but they will not find thee. Thou fhalt come at times to their dreams, and fettle peace in their foul. — Thy voice fhall remain in their ears, and they fhall think with joy on the dreams of their reft. Meteors roll around the maid ! and moonbeams lift her foul ! N. B. The fequel of the ftory of Hidallan is intro- duced as an epifode in the Poem of the war of Caros, which immediately follows that of Comala ; wherein * Sarno, the father of Comala, died foon after the flight of his daughter. t Fidallan was the firft King that reign'd ia Iuiftore. H a [ I0 ° ] it appears that he was expell'd from the wars of Fin- gal, on account of Comala's death, and difmifs'd with this fpeech from the King of Morven, " Go to the " gray ftreams of thy land, and moulder like a leaflefs " oak, which the winds have bent over Balva, never " more to grow." [ ioi ] EDWARD and ANNA. (In imitation of Prior's Henry and Emma. J June, 1782. Taken from a Jiory in the newfpaper of two unfortunate lovers on beard Lord Rodney 1 ; Ship the Formidable, in the action with De Grasse. WITHIN a Hamlet, on a mountain's fide, Remote from grandeur, luxury, and pride, Shelter'd behind by a capacious wood, Whofe ancient timbers unmolefted flood, A rural train, induftrious and content, Their days in innocent employments fpent ; Guilelefs they were, efleem'd for honefty ; From envy, malice, and ambition, free. The hamlet that contain'd the peaceful train, Was placed contiguous to a fpacious plain, And from the plain a fea-port town was feen To rear its head among the paftures green, [ 102 ] To curl its fmoke toward the azure (ley, And fhoot its fpire monaftical on high. Attracted thither by the annual wake, The fports and rural pleafures to partake, A number of the youthful nymphs and fwains Were wont to leave their hill, and feek the plains. Firft of the female train, by all confefs'd More lovely, more accomplifh'd, than the reft, Was gentle Anna — dignify 'd by worth, And talents far fuperior to her birth ! — Her feet were ever fwifteft in the race, None fang fo well, or dane'd with fo much grace ; For virtue (equal to her charms,) renown'd, In ev'ry fhepherd fhe a lover found ; Nor there did gentle Anna's empire end, In ev'ry lover (he fecured a friend ; But more than all the reft, young Edward ftrove To teftify his honeft, ardent love. Whene'er fhe tripp'd along the velvet plain, Whene'er fhe fang her foft, melodious ftrain, The filver-headed fires aftonifh'd gazed, The damfels wonder'd, and the fhepherds prais'd ; But Edward moft the blooming nymph approv'd, For more than all the reft he Anna loved. Oft would he cull the choiceft flowers with care, And form a garland to adorn her hair, For her, the earlieft produce of the fpring, The rareft fruits, he would delighted bring, Watch o'er her fheep as duely as his own, And bear her rural merchandize to town. Of Anna's confidence and love fecure, He deem'd it no misfortune to be poor ; [ ™3 J Or if a wifh for more, by chance, poflfefs'd A moment his difinterefted bread, Not for himfelf alone that wifh arofe, It was for Anna's comfort and repofe. For her he to the town would oft repair, And buy fome ornament to grace the fair ; — A hat of draw, or crook with flowrets drefs'd, To her was welcome as the broider'd veft ; The luxuries of courts fhe never knew, Her life was innocent, her wants were few j The donor's worth his trivial gifts endear 'd, And his lov'd prefence ev'ry profpect cheer'd. But Anna's friends were confcious of her worth, And (tho' they knew her of ignoble birth,) Deem'd her perfections of a higher rate, Than what would fuit with Edward's mean eftate, Edwin, his rival, under whofe command Lay a large circuit of well-cultur'd land, Tho' Iefs endow 'd by nature to impart Thofe foft fenfations that engage the heart, Was thought far better able to maintain The gentle Anna, than her fav'rite fwain. Duteous to them, yet fteady in her love, Her heart a conteft was decreed to prove ; Averfe to Edwin, fhe could never bear An elevated rank with him to fhare ; Rather than thus to mend her lowly ftate, She chofe with patient conftancy to wait, Till time her parents frozen hearts might move, To let her wed the object of her love. The youth revolves a thoufand ways, to gain An equal fortune with the rival fwain, L 104 J To hardy deeds, to enterprize inclin'd, Now defperate projects fill his bufy mind, And proud ambition (enemy to reft,) Gains an afcendancy in Edward's breaft. One fatal morning, in the town he found Some mariners, on warful fervice bound, Whofe part it was to tempt the fimple fwains, To leave the tranquil pleafures of the plains. The lift'ning Edward ready credence gave To thofe rewards they promis'd to the brave ; Whilft his good genius at a diftance flood, Th' unwary youth, in a capricious mood, By the alluring hope of gain betray 'd, An hafty bargain with the captain made. His breaft with brilliant expectation burn'd, As to the peaceful Hamlet he return'd ; When Anna chanced to meet him on the way, With afpe£t mild, and innocently gay ; At fight of her, his beating bofom feels A tender pang, — he ftudioufly conceals The keen emotions that are ftruggling there, Left he fhou'd fuddenly alarm the fair ; On various themes their converfation ran, Till Edward thus, with ferious look, began: " Oh fay, my Anna ! fhould I ever rove " Far from the limits of this happy grove, " When other fwains thy artlefs charms adore, (" Swains who will love thee lefs, but flatter more,) " Canft thou with conftancy to me adhere ? " And in thy faithful heart my image bear? " Will no perfuafions, no advantage, move " Thy bofom to abjure its early love ?" [ io 5 3 Anna. " As in the rural fports, the dance, the fong, " Pre-eminence to Edward does belong, " So in my heart he bears fuperior fway, " (A heart that never can be led aftray.) " Tho' wild ambition's fons, tho' fortune's flaves, " Who, to be wealthy, blufh not to be knaves, " Tho' mighty lairds mould woo me for their bride, " By fuch temptation wou'd my faith be try'd. " In vain wou'd fortune, luxury, and (late, " Court unambitious Anna to be great. " Do I not fleep as tranquil in the made, " As if my bed of coftly down was made ? " Does not my parents frugal, temperate board, " Enough to fatisfy my wants afford ? " And is not yonder cott to me more dear, " (Whilft Edward, conftant to his vows, is near,) " Than the proud pomp of an imperial dome, " Where foft content perhaps may never come ? " Within the peaceful hamlet let me live, " And thankfully the gifts of heaven receive. " Give me my ruftic fare, my harmlefs fports, " Which fuit me better than the glare of courts. — ■ " Was it within the compafs of my will, " To leave, for fplendid fcenes, this verdant hill, " To quit thefe tranquil fhades for gay alcoves, " To change, for noify ftreets, my native groves, " If I muft thee, (in moving Hence) refign, " My choice wou'd be an humble ftate, like thine; {l Soon as I learnt affection's gentle power, " My heart was doom'd thy virtues to adore ; " The facred flame by time is (till improv'd, " Nor e'er can I forfake whom firft I loved !" t *° 6 1 El? WARD. " Beware, my Anna ! for thy Edward's fake, " How much thou art induced to undertake : " If, as a Pilgrim, I fhou'd leave my home, " And chufe in deferts wild and vaft to roam, " My little fortune in my fcrip convey 'd, " My perfon in a ruflet garb array 'd, " Say, Anna ! wou'd thy tender feet incline " O'er ragged, pathlefs woods, to follow mine r " Wou'dft thou to hard fatigue, to rude alarms, " To fultry heat, expofe thofe blooming charms ? " Wou'dfl thou to eafe and foft fecurity, " Prefer a life of hardiment with me ? " And by thy Edward's fide contented rove, " Far from the limits of this peaceful grove V Anna. " Tho r burning fands acrofs thy journey lay, " Where the fun fheds intolerable day, " Tho' beafts of prey, a gaunt and meagre train, " Shou'd, howling, meet us on the defert plain, " Tho' on the borders of fome treach'rous lake, " When we approach'd, (our burning thirft to flake,) " Envenom 'd ferpents, meflengers of death, " Shou'd, hifling, aim to wound us with their teeth, " Thefe perils Anna wou'd with thee explore, " Nor heed the howling wind, nor drizling fhower. *' Or if to Alpine climes we're doom'd to go, " Where lofty mountains wear perpetual fnow, '* Where frofl: has marr'd the work of nature's hand, " And petrify 'd the produce of the land, '.' Cheer'd by thy prefence, I would try to bear " The coldnefs of the frigid atmofphere ; C 107 ] Nor, if I trod the icy paths with pain, Permit a figh my fufferings to explain : By love infpired, thofe hardfliips to endure, No better profpecls mou'd my fteps allure From thee, my guide ! to whom I then fhou'd prove, By voluntary pain, how much I love." Edward. Yet, there are hardfhips which may be repaid, When the rare works of nature are difplay'd. In different climates dwell peculiar charms, Whofe fearch a philofophic bofom warms ; New ores are found, and chryflals brighter mine, Here lays a quarry, there a golden mine ; Here, plants and flowers, to Britain's coaft unknown, And various pebbles, o'er the earth are ftrewn ; New fruits attrait the eye, and pleafe the tafte, And nature yields an elegant repaft. A thoufand namclefs trees appear in bloom, A thoufand fpicy fvveets the air perfume ; The lofty palm diftinguifhes the dale, The fhady plantane decorates the vale : But was I banifh'd hence, and fent to dwell In fome fequefter'd, melancholy cell, Cou'dft thou a Hermit's gloomy lot partake, And live reclufely there, for Edward's fake ? Ah no ! fuch hard imprifonment wou'd be More than I cou'd impofe, fair maid ! on thee ; To bury charms like thine in cells obfcure, Is furely more than woman can endure ; Vain is the thought ! — my Anna mud not be Condemn'd to live in poverty with me ; Alone, unqueftion'd, I wou'd therefore rove, Far from the limits of this peaceful grove." [ io8 ] Anna. " What means, my Edward, this ambiguous lore ? " Does fate prepare fome inaufpicious hour ? " That thus in language foreign to mine ear, " You, in my bofom, wake the fenfe of fear ? " To think of parting, is, alas ! to me, " The firft extreme of human mifery ; " Ah ! then forbear to fay I fhou'd decline " To make thy fortune and thy forrows mine ! " If fentenc'd in a Hermitage to dwell " With thee, I'd feek the unfrequented cell, " Thy prefence wou'd the gloomy fcene improve, " And chearfulnefs attend the fteps of love. " Tranquillity, at leaft, wou'd fojourn there, " And ev'ry glen a pleafant afpe£l wear. " Befide fome ripling ftream, at evening, laid, " Where the pale willow calls a feeble made, " I'd watch the movements of the finny race, " And from the bank their playful motions trace, " Within the mazes of the tangled wood, " I'd fearch for flowers or berries fit for food ; " Or in the bofom of the tufted vale, " Hear the fvveet thrufh, or fweeter nightingale ; " Bring fruits and herbs to drefs our rullic board, " And the cool beverage that the fprings afford. " By night, a nobler ftudy wou'd incline " My foul to meditate on things divine, " The (tarry orbs my thoughts to heaven wou'd raife, " And I fliou'd try. to chaunt my Maker's praife. " Thefe my employments, my delights, wou'd be, " And all their fweets wou'd be enhane'd by thee. " Of thy affeclion, dearefl youth ! pofTefs'd, " Thy lov'd fociety wou'd make me blefl : [ I0 9 1 " Where'er my Edward goes I'd freely roam, " Far from my friends, my rural fports, my home." Edward. " Yet there are fcenes which females cannot bear, " And difficulties which they muft not fhare ; " Where the fhrill clarion, and the martial drum, " Forbid the tender, fearful fex, to come. " If, led by honour, I fhou'd ever dare " To try my prowefs in the field of war, " All I fhou'd afk, my gentle love, of thee, " Wou'd be this proof of thy fidelity, " To let thy foldier that regard retain, " Profefs'd fo often to thy faithful Twain, " And that thy wifhes and thy heart wou'd rove " With me, beyond the limits of the grove." Anna. " Tho' timid nature might at firft recoil, " At fight of perils, and fatigues, and toil, " Tho' prudence on the enterprize might frown, " Edward fhou'd never feek the field alone. (t I'd hafte, in camps and fortrefTes, to prove " A woman's courage and a woman's love, " And to the fight my hero's fteps attend, " His faithful wife, and ever zealous friend." Edward. " Vain are thy arguments, my gen'rous maid, [ I" ] Thy tender frame cou'd never, fure, fuftain The various dangers of the changeful main, When the fvvoln billows into mountains rife, And lift the vefTel almofl to the ikies, Wou'd not thy heart its boafted courage lofe Wou'd not thy knees to bear their weight refufe i And thy fad eyes be Grangers to repofe ? Hope wou'd defert thee in that trying hour, And even love relinquish all his power. But grant the breezes mou'd propitious blow, The waves with foft and Heady motion flow, What danger, lovely Anna ! might arife From thofe dear fmiles, thofe captivating eyes ! If fate depriv'd thee of thy Edward's care, Who wou'd, alas ! protecl a form fo fair ? The mariners, with rude illiberal jell, Wou'd mock thine ear, and pain thy virtuous breaft, And, with licentious language, proffer love, j^Such love as chaftity mult difapprove.) Or mou'd kind heaven allow thy faithful fvvain The guardian of his Anna to remain, Tho' from thofe evils I fhou'd thee defend, Difafters dire might ftill the voyage attend." If pirate bands enflav'd our haplefs crew, What certain ruin wou'd to thee enfue ! Thy favage victors wou'd aftonifli'd gaze, And in barbarian accents fpeak thy praife, Tear thee away from wretched Edward's arms, And make a fordid intereft of thy charms ; Doom'd, at a royal price, to be confign'd To fome proud Dey, and in the walls confin'd Of his accurs'd feraglio, thou wilt mourn, Tho' eaftern gems thy canopy adorn, [ H2 ] " Tho' the tiara glitters on thy brow, " And fawning flaves before thy footftool bow. " Or in the hour of fierce, uncertain fight, " Cou'd thy humanity fupport the fight, " Of wounded men, expiring at thy feet, " Thyfelf expos'd the fatal ball to meet ? " Be fides, thy prefence wou'd fuch fears impart, " That I fhou'd fhevv a tame, unmanly heart ; M To fhelter thee from harm wou'd be my aim, " Carelefs of duty grown, and cold to fame." " Oh ! bed and fairefl of thy fex ! forbear " To wifh my dangers and my toils to (hare — " Allur'd by hopes of gain, I wander hence, " Rather than (lay, and live in indolence. " To try my fortune on the fickle fea " I rifque my comfort, — for I part with thee ! " With thee ! for whom alone I wifh to gain " That wealth which, wanting thee, wou'd come in vain. " The hafty bargain is already made ; " The anchor of my fate will foon be weigh 'd ; " Engag'd by honour, I am bound to rove " Far from the limits of this happy grove." — He faid, and kifs'd the tear from Anna's cheek, Who (trove in vain her agony to fpeak ; In filent grief her eyes to heaven fhe rais'd, In filent grief upon her Edward gaz'd, Till parting at the Hamlet, each retir'd With equal forrow, equal love, infpir'd ; But ere the morning dawn'd, th' intrepid maid -\ By love to defperate enterprize betray 'd, > In man's apparel, to the village ftray'd. J C "3 ] As from her peaceful home the damfel turn'd, Trembling, fhe ofr look'd back, and deeply mourn'd. l< Shall I," faid ihe, " thofe tranquil joys refign, " Thofe friends, thofe comforts, that were lately mine ? " And thus, in mafculine attire, conceal " A feeble heart, that mud not feem to feel ? " A heart that fhudders at the choice it makes, " And with regret its many friends forfakes ! " Yet, fhou'd a woman's fears, alas ! prevail " And keep me here, new dangers will aflail " The haplefs Anna, by my lover left, " Of his protection, his advice bereft, " Expos'd to perfecution, from a fwain " Whofe odious courtfhip conftitutes my pain, " And daily counfel'd by my parents' voice, " To make the man, whom they approve, my choice, " How fhou'd I learn with fortitude to bear, " A deftiny fo irkfome, fo fevere ? " Whene'er, tremendous, o'er the mountains brow, " The clouds condenfe, and winds tempeftuous blow, " When lightnings feem to fhoot from pole to pole, " And awful thunders round the welkin roll, " Each blaff. for Edward wou'd excite my fear, " And tender recollections force the tear. " Uncertain of his fate, in dreams by night, " I fhou'd attend him to the naval fight, " View him expiring, and diftradted hear " His dying accents vibrate on my ear ; " Or fee him by a cruel tempeft tofs'd, " Upon fome cold inhofpitable coaft, " A land by weeds and brambles overgrown, " Where cultivation never has been known, " Without a fruitful tree, or blade of wheat, " Or v/holefome herb, the ftarving wretch to meet, Vol. I. I [ H4 ] " Where nature fails afliftance to fupply, " And thofe who land, inevitably die. " For me, for me, the daring Edward braves " The various dangers of th' uncertain waves, " Ambitious only to obtain my hand, " Flies from the comforts of Britannia's land, " And rifques his life for her, whofe heart would break " If Edward perifh'd for his Anoa's fake. " Shall I defert the dear, the generous youth ? " Forbid it freedom, conftancy, and truth ! " Rather to fhare his dangers let me fly, " And with my Edward live, or greatly die. " Adieu, ye meadows ! ye delightful groves ! "Scenes of our infant fports, and early loves. " Adieu, ye flow'ry vales ! ye verdant hills ! " Ye ivy-circled bowers ! ye murm'ring rills I " Adieu, my innocent, my bleating fheep, " Sweet be your herbage, undifturb'd your fleep ! f* Ah ! may the fates your haplefs miftrefs fend, " Again to prove your guardian, and your friend." She faid — the wind with hollow founds reply'd, And from a neighb'ring barn the fcreech owl cry'd, With hoarfe, difcordant notes the raven fpoke, And flap'd his wings ; a venerable oak, Struck with a blight, his verdant honours flied, And the pale moon conceal'd her wexin head ; Yet evil omens have not power to move A heart that facrifices peace for love. To fhare the fortune of her Edward bent, In fatal hour, fhe to the captain went, And there enlifting under his command, The vefTel gain'd, and left her native land. [ H5 ] The gallant Edward fail'd among the crew — He, dreading to pronounce a lafl adieu, Upon the beach, the bufy failors join'd, Nor dared to call one longing look behind. , When the gray morning o'er the hills appear'd, The wary pilot to the windward fteer'd ; The feamen rais'd the canvas wings on high, They catch the breeze, the veiTel feems to fly ; The lefs'ning more in blueifli mifls is loft, While Edward's eyes full feek his native coaft. Now care and bitter anguifh fill his foul, His refolution yields to love's controul ; His fancy reprefents fair Anna's charms, Her grief, her anger, and her wild alarms ; A thoufand fad ideas fill his mind, But moll he fears he mail be thought unkind, Perhaps inconflant, cruel, and forfworn, In leaving her abruptly thus, to mourn. Her fenfe, her love, her virtues, he revolves, And fecretly repents his rafh refolves. While thus he fat in melancholy mood, The lovely counterfeit before him flood ; Her features with her drefs fo ill agreed, How cou'd the flimfey artifice fucceed ? A lover's eyes are keen, and can perceive What may another's eafily deceive. He fees a face, whofe duplicate, till now, He never thought in nature's power to fhew, Join'd with an elegance of fhape and mien, That feldom in fo coarfe a garb is feen ; He views the image of his darling maid, He fees new blufhes on her cheek difplay'd j I 2 [ "6 ] He doubts no more, — he marks her darting tear, And views with grateful love th' heroic fair ; In whifpers he laments her ram defign, And recommends her to the powers divine. It feem'd as tho' the fates wou'd grant his prayer, And make fair Anna their peculiar care ; The feas were placid, and propitious gales - Hover'd around, and fill'd the crowded fails. Health and good-humour on the paflage fmil'd ; Gay unanimity the hours beguil'd. The fleet were free from difcontent and hate ; No cares, no ftrife, difturb'd the little date ; For heavenly concord ev'ry bofom cheer'd ; On ev'ry honed face content appear 'd The active Edward was his Anna's guide, Who feldom went from her protestor's fide ; Together, they fulfill'd the failor's part With fuch alertnefs, chearfulnefs, and art, That none among their merry comrades knew How fair a damfel fail'd among the crew. At length the day of trial mod fevcre, The day of danger and didrefs, was near. A hoftile fleet the mariners defcry'd, A hoftile fleet which to avoid them try'd : In hade the brave commander crowds his fails ; The impatient failors court propitious gales ; They prefs to action, eager for renown, And pant to make the victory their own. But in the bread of Edward, anxious cares For Anna's fafety waked tumultuous' fears ; He mourns the hour when fhe refolv'd to rove Far from the limits of the peaceful grove : [ »7 ] No time remains for words — th' heroic maid By neither figh nor tear her fex betray 'd ; No fudden change of countenance appear T d, For Edward, more than for herfelf, fhe fear'd : Happy to fhare his labours, and his fate, In fuch a moment fhe is truly great ; Fix'd by his fide, fhe can fupprefs her fears ; The fleets engage, while fhe the danger mares, And the terrific fcene with refolution bears. With brave exertion Edward plays his part ; The crew, with intrepidity and art, Perform their bold manoeuvres ; — ev'ry hand Is lifted, to obey their chief's command ; Each heart with ardent expectation beats, And victory hangs dubious o'er the fleets. But moft the fhip wherein the lovers are, Is made the bloody theatre of war, Eager to do their injur'd country right, The gallant crew with matchlefs courage fight ; By Rodney's voice, by his example fir'd, They thro* the day maintain the war untir'd ; Involved in clouds of fmofce, they cannot know . The havoc which they make among the foe ; Nor have they time their dying friends to mourn, Before they fall, expiring in their turn. Top-mafts, and fails, and flags, are hurl'd around^ And cannonades incefiantly refound. — While the dire conteff. agitates the dcep^ The lovers ftill their dangerous flation keep. Amid the fcene of horror nobly ftrive, And from a trull in heaven their hopes derive ; Already victory, with wings difplay'd, Her homage to the Britilh Penon paid, } [ n8 ] Already flutter 'd o'er the heroic fleet, And bade the war and carnage to abate ; When in the moment that decifive heav'n Decreed the palm fhou'd be to Rodney given, A random mot fome lucklefs cannon fent, Which thro' the faithful heart of Anna went. With horror, with difpair, the lover gaz'd, Then in his arms the breathlefs damfel rais'd ; Briefly reveal'd his ftory to the crew, And to the vefTel's fide like light'ning flew ; From whence deep plunging in the foamy wave, He, with the lovely victim, found a grave. Ah fatal day ! when he refolv'd to rove Beyond the limits of the peaceful grove, When lift'ning to ambition's fyren voice, He made a life of enterprize his choice. Ah fatal day ! when love infpir'd the maid To leave the diftafF for a coarfer trade ; To quit her rural fports for war's alarms, And to the cannon's rage expofe her charms. May their fad hiftory a leflbn prove, To thofe decreed in humble fpheres to move, To thofe who in a lowly ftate repine, And with in bufier fcenes of life to mine. If Edward had reflected ere he made His dangerous choice, — he had contented ftay'd Within the Hamlet, where his happy fate Had placed him in a mean, but honed ftate. He there had liv'd with love and freedom bleft, Virtue his guide, — tranquillity his gueft ; And Anna never had defir'd to rove Far from the limits of the peaceful grove. [ II* ] CLARA AN ELEGY. 1782. N. B. The three firji Jianzas zvere written by the Rt verend Air. Sneyd on a different occafton. LET the deep murmurs of my mournful lays " Break the fad filence of this midnight hour, " Whilft yet yon dying taper's rays afford " One glad'ning beam to prompt my penfive lore. " Still, pale companion of the reftlefs night, " My ardent fighs have fan'd thy trembling flame, " I've breathed my forrows to thy watchful light, " And ev'ry figh was fili'd with Clara's name. " Burn, thou juft emblemn of my warm defire ! " Wafte the fad power thatfeeds thy fhort-liv'd blaze ! " Like you, I feel the fix'd devouring fire, " Feed on my bloom, and wafte my better days." Hopelefs I love ! yet my diftracled brain, A mournful pleafure in reflection finds ; Dwells on the caufe that conftiiutes my pain, Whilft my fad brow a willow garland binds. [ 120 ] Whether I feek from noify crowds relief, Or court oblivion to attain repofe, By day, by night, I am opprefs'd with grief ; My heart with anguifh and refentment glows. Where'er I turn my melancholy eyes, Something defcriptive of the fair I meet ; Fancy the abfence of my love fupplies, And mocks her beauties with a kind deceit. Types of her radiant eyes the ftars appear, Like her, the flowers are blooming, fvveet, and gay ; Her foft melodious voice methinks I hear, When Philomela fings her plaintive lay. Beyond Euphrates was I doom'd to roam, Sent to explore the wealth of Egypt's more, My conftant heart mull ftill remain at home, And Clara be the ftar I fhou'd adore. Yes, Clara ! thou art like an heavenly ftar, To whom my wifhes vainly wou'd afpire ; Above my hopes, beyond my reach you are, And reafon frowns on my prefumptuous fire. The fafcinated fly will hover o'er The flame he feels deftrudlive to his wings ; So I indulge the paflion I deplore, From whence temptation, fraught with danger, fprings. I know it is a crime in me to love, Where lies of honour fhou'd repel the flame ; That flame thy duty bids thee difapprove, And what was once our boaft, wou'd be our fhame. [ 121 ] I wou'd not, (if within my choice it lay,) Try to pervert the goodnefs of thy mind, Or wifh to lead thy innocence aftray, To paths for artifice and guilt defign'd : But Oh ! accuftom'd as I long have been To gaze enamour'd on thy face divine, Guefs what I feel, to think thofe eyes ferene Muft turn from me, and on another Ihine ! Another will thy kind attentions prove, Demand obedience, and expe6t regard, Whihl I mufl filence the regrets of Hve, And from thy foothing converfe be debarr'd. How can I pafs the ling'rinp- day alone ? I, who was wont to chide the hours of night, And think the moments pafs'd too flov ly on, That kept her lovely perfon from my fight, When the firft gleam of Phofphor'3 rifing ray Was thro' my cafement feen i,s light to pour, I ufed to hail the chearful orb of day, That wou'd my Clara to thefe eyes reflore. In my firft waking thought her image reign'd, While my fond heart the dear idea bled. The fame fair vifionary form remain'd To rule my dreams, and foothe my cares to reft. When in her pre fence, ev*ry hour appear'd To Strephon's mind, with winged fpeed to move ; Her gentle accents I delighted heard, And faw her fmile upon my vows of love : [ 122 ] , Alas ! thofe moments, innocently gay, Were fraught with too much happinefs to laft — I now to forrow dedicate the day, And mournfully reflect on thofe I've paft. Accurfed avarice ! whofe fubtle power Minds of a mercenary mould obey, Thy triumph is compleat, my hopes are o'er, And the devoted Clara — is thy prey. Can titles, wealth, and dignity, impart Joys, to atone for love and freedom loft ? Can thy fufceptible and generous heart Be purchafed, Clara ! at fo mean a coft ? No ! I abfolve thee from fuch fordid views, I fee thee with reluctance yield thy hand* Thy parents only will I dare accufe, Whofe ftrong perfuafions border on command. The dying fwan laments in tuneful drains — His mournful murmurs float upon the ftream — So while my hopes expire, my mufe complains, And the loft Clara is her conftant theme. Mu ft I behold thee, my angelic fair ! With weeping eyes, thy trembling hand beftow ? Breathe words, in which thy heart can have no (hare, And fighing, make th' irrevocable vow ? In vain may love aflcrt a prior right, My potent rival wins thee for his bride — No tears of thine the tie can difunite, No fiiihs of mine can waft the knot afide. C I2 3 ] Yet, may I not miftake ? perhaps her mind Is form'd the charms of grandeur to approve, Perhaps, tho' I have deem'd her good and kind, She only trifled with my honeft love. Abhorred jealoufy ! thou fiend ! with whom Torments, and fears, and miferies, refide, I fee thee from difpairs dark cavern come, A thoufand furies marching by thy fide ; Beneath the influence of thy yellow eye, Sufpicion brings unreal fcenes to light, I fee my Clara to Alexis fly, Smile on his love, and chace me from her fight. Forgetful of paft vows of tendernefs, With looks that cruelly reveal difdain, She bids me learn my anguifh to fupprefs, — Laughs at my rage, and triumphs in my pain. Perifh the thought ! let fancy's myftic wing Waft from my mind thefe vifions of difpair, And to my pillow dreams of comfort bring, Like mimic forms which in a glafs appear. Methinks I fee upon that' mirror fhine Our vows of love within a knot combin'd, A facred knot, whofe foldings to untwine Nor accident nor time the means can find. Do I not fee the graces mourning there ? Does not the penfive Clara meet my view, As if Ihe drop'd for me that pearly tear, And fighing, breath'd a long, — a laft adieu ? [ "4 3 Does not meek patience refignation teach, While deftiny the web of forrow weaves r Does n the phantom hope, confoling, preach That doctrine which the wretch with joy believes ? Alas ! the mirror breaks — the charm is paft — The picture fades from my deluded mind ; 'Twas like a feverifh dream, that cou'd not laft, But leaves confufion's motley train behind. Clara ! thou victim of ambition's power, No more this language fhall offend thine ear, In filent grief I will my fate deplore, And try with fortitude my lofs to bear. I fee thee to the fatal altar led, Like the young fawn, with flowery fillets bound ; I fee thee bow thy meek devoted head ; I fee thee kneel upon the hallow 'd ground; No laughing loves upon the rites attend, The Hymeneal torch but dimly burns, (Dim as the lamp by which my lays are penn'd) Whilft pity views the facrifice, and mourns. No jocund damfels lead the fportive dance, No happy omens meet thee at the fhrine — A train that form the court of care advance, And round the altar wreathes of cyprefs twine. But how fhall language Strephon's woe exprefs ? How reprefent the horrors of my mind ? My wrongs petition vainly for redrefs ; My love mull be to fecrecy confin'd. [ "5 1 Like Agamemnon, (at the fatal place Where Iphigenia died,) I will appear, — Ah ! while a curtain hides thy lover's face, Imagine fufferings, he mud not declare. Yet let me by thy forrows underftand, That tho' thou art compell'd from me to part, Another can alone obtain thy hand, Whilft I mall (till pofTefs my Clara's heart : So (hall a melancholy pleafure fhed One feeble ray acrofs dejection's gloom ; And tho' my hopes of happinefs are fled, A figh from thee will mitigate my doom. Farewell ! thou beft and faireft of thy kind ! On thee my wifhes and my prayers attend — The name of lover muft'be now refign'd ; I change it for the character — of friend ; But like the funflower, (tho' at diftance thrown From the bright beams I ever muft adore,) Still will my homage point to thee alone, Till love, — and life, — and Strephon is no more. C "6 ] ALINDOR and LUBIN. A Slory taken from an accident which happen d at Tun- bridge Wells in September, 1 784. ALINDOR lived in yonder grove, Where elms their ancient boughs extend, Brown Marianna was his love, And Lubin was his deareft friend. The boys from home one morning ftray'd> And jocund on the hills were feen, Each in a fhepherd's frock array'd, Each tripping lightly o'er the green. In queft of birds, with hafty feet They pafs'd along the verdant plain, And Lubin fang his carols fweet, Regardlefs of the falling rain. The cruel instrument of death Beneath his frock Alindor bore, And as he rambled o'er the heath, His young companion ran before. [ 127 3 Towards a fhady copfe they drew, In eager hopes of feather 'd gain, When from the bufh a fparrow flew, And wing'd its way acrofs the plain. To difentangle from his drefs The fatal gun, Alindor try'd, But who his feelings can exprefs, The bird efcaped, — and Lubin died. Yes ! by the friend he loved fo well, The haplefs boy receiv'd his doom, And like a tender bloflbm fell, Cut off in youth and beauty's bloom. Methinks Alindor's cries I hear, I fee him beat his throbbing breaft, This mournful language meets my ear, To Lubin's palid corfe addrefs'd : " O Lubin ! dear departed boy ! " Have I perform 'd this murd'rous deed ? " Cou'd I fo ill my gun employ, " And caufe thee, gentle friend ! to bleed ? " Lov'd viclim of an erring blow ! " My fate is more fevere than thine ; " For thou no more canft forrow know, " Whilft agonies of grief are mine. " 'Tis my hard fate to fee thee lie " Thus pale and bleeding on the ground, " Whilft I have not the power to die, " Tho' I have giv'n my friend his wound. [ "8 ] " For thee no more the tuneful thrum " Will thro' its wirey prifon fing, " No more wilt thou explore the bum, " Or fee the partridge fpread her wing. " No more wilt thou, at early morn, " Among the ferny woodlands rove, " Or pluck the blue bells from the corn, " Or fearch for filberds in the grove. " No more wilt thou, my Lubin ! place " A chaplet gay on Marian's hair, " No more the village circles grace, " Or play thy gambols at the fair. " Sweet was thy fong ! — thy temper kind ! " Serene, and deftitute of guile ! " True innocence was in thy mind, " And gay good-humour in thy fmile. " Arretted by the hand of death, " Thy roundelay no more I hear, — " 'Tis I have flopp'd thy tuneful breath ; " 'Tis I muft lay thee on thy bier. " And when that painful talk is o'er, " What more have I with life to do ? " My comfort time can ne'er reftore, " Since hope is vanim'd from my view. " Incapable of calm repofe, " II vv fhall I clofe my weary eyes? " My only thought will be my woes, " And all my language be my lighs." [ 129 3 Yet, thofe fenfations which I feel, Of fad furprize, and deep diftrefs, Are more than tears can e'er reveal, Are more than fighs can e'er exprefs. Lo ! from the earth the fkylark flies, And flutters far above the lawn, I fee her mount (with envious eyes,) Towards the heaven where thou art gone. Ye powers above ! I afk but this, — In Lubin's grave to let me lie ! With him to live, I thought it blifs ; Bereft of him, — I wifh to die. Vol. I. I 130 3 The ROBIN REDBREASTS. .A. Robin Redbreaft, born and bred Within a fhady grove, Had long beheld a gentle bird With eyes of partial love. For her he cull'd the choiceft food, For her he fpread his wing, For her he perch'd upon a bough, And thus was heard to fing : " Thy Robin has to offer thee " An honeft heart alone, (" For Fortune, family, and fame, " Are things I cannot own.) " Yet, faireft of the feather'd kind ! " My love, my friendfhip try; " Thy faithful mate I'll ever live, " Thy faithful mate I'll die. " Nor will I fwear, as men have done, " By the immortal powers ! " By chearful morn ! by duflcy eve ! " By fountains ! groves ! or bowers ! [ *3* ] " My foul is not by nature fram'd " To acl: a treacherous part, — " Ah truft, then, to my conftancy, " And blefs me with thv heart." The bird belov'd was pleas'd to hear The burthen of his fong, Arid promifed file wou'd be his mate Thofe happy (hades among. The blifsful pair together liv'd, Till autumn's mellow hand Embrown'd the grafs, and fcatter'd leaves Along the barren land. No more the bud, or blofTom gay, Or opening rofe was feen, Nor fruits difclos'd a ruddy hue Amid a foliage green. No more the farmers' fields appear 'd Enrich'd with golden grain ; The mower call his fcythe away ; The reaper left the plain. Swift o'er the hills the huntfmen came, And blew their merry horn ; No more retarded in their courfe By fields of waving corn. Keen from the north the wind arofe, And whittled thro' the glade, Whilft fhelter'd in their peaceful grove, The birds contented flay'd. K 2 [ *32 ] Then thus the Robin fweetly fang, Ere he retired to reft, ' Ah let no anxious cares, my love t " Difturb thy little bread. 4 Tho' winter with a meagre face " And frozen hand is near, 1 Tho' famine oft his ftep purfues, " Yet wherefore fhou'dft thou fear ? 1 The Lord, beneficent to all I " Sufficiency will give, 1 Tho' winter fcarcity creates, " To let a Robin live. * To ev'ry hedge, to ev'ry (haw, " And glen, will I repair, ' With berries daily I'll return, " My only love to cheer. * Thy tender frame wou'd ill endure " The rain and piercing wind. ; 1 To me, with greater ftrength endued, " The talk muft be aflign'd." So fang the bird, whofe heart was warm'd With virtue, truth, and love, Whofe faithfulnefs and conftancy Might well become a dove. His gentle mate approv'd his lay, Her fong refponfive told, That whilft he tarried by her fide, She fear'd nor ftorms nor cold. [ »33 ] But foon, alas! the wintry wind Was louder heard to rife, It fwept the leaves from ev'ry tree, And clouds deform'd the Ikies. Yet did the little Redbreafls bear The rudenefs of the blaft, They fhook their pinions, wet with rain, And faw the ftorm was paft. Then forth the jocund Robin flew, And from a neighb'ring grove A bunch of berries quickly brought, To cheer his drooping love. Some leaves that yet were dry he found, And form'd them like a neft, There chirp 'd the notes of artlefs love, And woo'd his mate to reft. To fleep they went ; but foon again The wind was heard to blow ; Inclement grew the freezing air, And heavy fell the fnow. On ev'ry twig, on ev'ry thorn, The ice in clufters hung, On ev'ry blade of grafs was feen, To ev'ry berry clung. A univerfal robe of white Was o'er the meadows caft ; Nor hip nor haw remain'd to give The birds one flight repaft. [ ^34 ] T Shiv'ring with cold, with hunger faint, His love the Robin view'd ; He ftole in filence from her fide, And went in quell of food. Tho' almoft familh'd, for himfelf He felt no fenfe of fear ; The bird whom more than life he loved, Was now his only care. Pale grew the feathers at his bread, And languid was his eye, His drooping wings were numb'd with cold, He fcarce had ftrength to fly. While with difpairing looks he call His anxious eyes around, A charitable crumb of bread He fpy'd upon the ground. His little heart then beat with joy ; He feized the gift of fate : " Ah ! give me ftrength, kind powers!" he cry'd " To bear it to my mate." He reach'd the grove ; he call'd his mate ; His feeble mate reply'd ; He laid the offering at her feet, — Dropp'd from the tree, and died. I *35 3 The NIGHTINGALE and DOVE. A Nightingale, by grief opprefs'd, Was perch'd upon a tree, From whence me made the groves refound With vocal harmony. " Alas !" fhe faid, " whilft I complain, " My lover turns away, " And other birds, in beauty bright, " Infpire his amorous lay. " 'Tis true, my plumage cannot vie " With birds of painted wing, " Nor do I foar aloft in air, " Like fky-larks when they fing, " No vivid tints adorn my tail, " Nor flame upon my bread, " Nor, like the heron, can I difplay " A proud imperial creft. " Yet, tho' a thoufand other birds " More beautiful may be, " Not one among a thoufand birds " Can love fo well as me." C '36 ] She faid ; when from a pendent bough A gentle Dove reply 'd, " Ah ! do not yield to fancy 'd griefs ; " Let patience be your guide : " Let Hope her filver wings difplay, " Bright as th' hefperian ftar, " (The radiant mefTenger of day," " Who leads Aurora's car.) " When you have heard the hiftory " Of birds that lov'd like you, " Comparifon will make your cares " Seem frivolous, and few- — " Once, in thefe calm, fequefter'd woods, " A faithful, gentle Dove, " Was wont to woo me, with the voice " Of unaffected love. " The Halycon's wing is not more blue " Than was my lover's eye, " His wings were of a filver gray, " His breaft a purple dye. " My bofom glow'd with equal love ; " Eternal truth we fwore ; . " For me he fcorn'd all other Doves, " And vow'd to rove no more. " But ah ! one cruel, fatal morn, " To gain his offspring food, " At early dawn my gentle mate "In hafte forfook the wood. [ J 37 ] " Anxious to fee my love return, " I fought a lofty tree, " From whence the track he us'd to take " My watchful eyes might fee. " I faw my Dove, — I faw him fly " Toward his native home ; " I faw, — oh heaven ! I flew to fhare, " Or to avert, his doom. " A tyrant Kite, on rapid wings, " Purfu'd the fluttering Dove — " Ah ! let my tears the reft explain ; — " I loft my faithful love. " Ceafe, then, to think thyfelf decreed " To feel more poignant woe, " More fond regret, more deep difpair, " Than that which others know. " Thy Nightingale, tho' apt to rove " From home, may yet return ; " His heart reclaim'd, ere long, by thee, " With virtuous fires may burn. " But ah ! for me no hope remains! " My mate, alas ! is dead ; " And all the happinefs of life, " With him I mourn, is fled. " Whilft I in filence long have wept " Among thefe gloomy trees, " And, with a breaking heart, have bow'd '* To heaven's fupreme decrees. [ i3» 3 " Thy griefs, inferior far to mine, ** Have urged thy frequent ftrain ; " At early morn, at dewy eve, " I heard thy voice complain. " Ah, Philomela ! think on me ! " Thy fate with mine compare ! *' My deeper woes may leflen thine, " And fave thee from difpair. " J U( % e by thine own afflicted heart, *' What agonies I prove, " Who live to rear an infant brood, " And mourn a murder'd love." [ *39 ] CONNAL and CRIMORA. Connal, (Son of Diaran) a famous Chief in Fin- gal's Army. Bargo, A Britifh Chief. Crimora, Daughter of Rinval. Ullin, The Bard. Scene, a Heath near the River Lotha. N; B. THIS Poem is taken from the book of Car- ridthura in Oman's Fingal, where Ullin, the Bard, is fuppos'd to relate the ftory, which he ends thus : " Earth here enclofes the lovelieft pair on the hill — " the grafs grows between the (tones of the tomb. I " often fit in the mournful made. The wind fighs " thro' the grafs — their memory rumes on my mind. " Undifturb'd ye now deep together ; in the tomb of " the mountain ye reft alone." [ 140 ] Ullin. I HE hand of autumn, o'er the grove, Haft caft a dufky made ; Dark rolls the river thro' the vale, And filent is the glade ; No bird of chearful note is here ; G ay mills bedew the ground ; The whirlwind rifes on the heath, And fcatters leaves around. Beneath the blaft the alder bends, The willows wave their boughs, And o'er the ftream the wan cold moon, Her faint reflection throws. Dire omens of impending death Are hovering in the fky ; Acrofs the wither'd fern I fee The fparkling meteor fly ! Loud from the eaft the tempeft roars, And howls along the moor ; The fcreaming curlew leaves the fea, And refts upon the more. Darning againft the craggy cliffs, The ftormy waves I hear — 'Tis well the Britilh fleet is moor'd, And fafe within the pier. [ Hi 3 But who is fhe, that from the hill Comes with diforder'd pace ? And to the rude wind dares expofe So foft, fo fair a face ? Her feeble, melancholy voice, I hear acrofs the meads, Like as the foft and balmy breeze, Among the ruftling reeds. And who is he that moves along In martial garb array'd ? And feems, by his attentive air, To footh the weeping maid ? Lo ! there they paufe, I fee her robe White in the lunar beam, I fee them earneftly difcourfe, By Lotha's mighty ftream. To thofe thick willows I'll repair, Which by the river grow, Where undifcover'd I may learn, The ftory of their woe. [ Ha 3 CONNAL and CRIMORA. Crimora. STILL will I follow thee, my valiant friend ! Still will I follow thee acrofs the plain ! Ah let me, Connal ! on thy fteps attend ; I heed nor howling blafts, nor drizzling rain. Whate'er the fecret caufe, my love ! may be, vThat makes thee haften o'er the dreary moor, Crimora faithfully mall wait on thee, Tho'thou lhou'dft brave the florm, and leave the more* If to fome defert ifle my Connal fleers, Or mountains crown'd with everlafting fnow, Or where the armies lift ten thoufand fpears, Without a murmur I with thee will go. Connal. Far be the thought from thee, fair maid, removed, Left calumny {hou'd ftain thy fpotlefs name j Ne'er be it faid, that with a youth belov'd Crimora fled, — and facrific'd her fame. Can Rinval's daughter leave the fplcndid hall, Where Selma's maids, like ftars, in glory mine ? Canft thou from thy exalted ftation fall, To fhare in fortunes defperate as mine ? Shall that fair face, fhall that engaging form, Encounter danger, and defpife alarms ? Endure the fhock of the impending ftorm, Or bear the loud difcordant found of arms ? [ «43 1 If to the fea I fhou'd refolve to go, Where the tempeftuous waves in mountains rife, How cou'dft thou bear the hurricanes that blow, The fierce tornadoes, and the failors' cries r Crimora.' If the tall bark my Connal will afcend, The feas and diftant countries to explore, With his, my future deftiny I'll blend, With him, I'll bid adieu to Selma's more: And when the ftormy waves in mountains rife, When thro' the hemifphere pale lightnings glare. Confiding in that power who rules the fkies, To great Jehovah I'll addrefs my prayer. Nor will I mind the world's contemptuous fneer, Nor heed the tales Crimora's foes may raife ; My confcience from the fenfe of guilt is clear ; I fcorn their cenfure, nor require their praile. Connal. Thou generous maid ! my grateful heart allows The wond'rous worth of thy exalted mind ; Amazed I learn, what matchlefs courage glows Within a heart fo amiable and kind. Yet, ah forgive me ! if I ftill decline Thy proffer'd goodnefs ; — little dofl thou know What hardihips may attend a life like mine, What {harp diftrefs from poverty may flow. [ 144 ] If, exiled from my native more, I rove To fome inhofpitable, cheerlefs coaft, Canft thou refolve adverfity to prove, Nor e'er regret the bleffings thou haft loft ? Canft thou thro' pathlefs wilds and forefts roam, Where favage beafts in fecret caverns dwell ? And change the fplendour of thy princely home, For a fequefter'd, melancholy cell ? Crimora. If to the foreft thou fhou'dft bend thy way, Which beafts of prey have made their fav'rite haunt, Tho' the fierce pard among the bufhes lay, His rage wou'd fail my fteady foul to daunt. Lo in the quiver by my fide I bear Thefe darts, the feather'd meflengers of death ; Sent from my bow, they fhou'd divide the air, Pierce the huge monfters, and impede his breath. Oft from the mofly cave, whofe friendly gloom To Connal may a kind afylum yield, I'll wander to the banks, where rofes bloom, And fearch for fragrant herbs in ev'ry field. Oft from the vineyard's ripen'd fruits I'll bring, In fearch of filberds wander thro' the grove, Draw the cool beverage from the chryftal fpring, Or fhoot the mallard, as it foars above. Refponfive to my ConnaFs oaten reed, Some Bard perchance may ftrike the vocal /hell ; Among the fern our fleecy flock fhall feed, Or bees fhall murmur round their ftrawy cell ; [ i4S 1 And oft, fequefter'd from obferving eyesf Thy hounds at early morn fhall chace the boar, His fhaggy fkin mail be my hunter's prize, And the proud trophy hang upon our door. The pheafant mail his painted plumes difplay To the bright beams that pierce the checquer'd grove ; The nightingale mall warble from the fpray, In notes of rapture, harmony, and love. Let poverty, with all her woes, appear ! — The meagre form fhall not appal my mind ; Her utmoft rigours I'll fubmit to bear ; To ev'ry ill, but lofing thee, refign'd. Dear youth ! with thee I through the world will dray, Defpifing all that grandeur can beftow ; — Then fay, my friend ! my gentle Connal ! fay, Why hangs that cloud upon thy lovely brow ? Connal. Ah ! wherefore doft thou feek the caufe to learn, That calls thy Connal o'er the dufky heath ? — Crimora ! to thy father's houfe return, — For know thy feet are on the paths of death. Since thou the ftrange myflerious caufe will hear, Which bids me from the walls of Selma fly, Teach thy foft eyelids to reprefs the tear, And fteel thy breaft againft compamon's figh .: Let no vain murmur of a timid heart Difturb the fettled purpofe of my mind, — Prepare thyfelf to acl: a heroine's part, — For Connal here, his deadly foe mull find. Vol. I. L [ i 4 6 ] Yes ! I have promifed by the moon's pale beam — (Nay ftart not thus! nor tremble with thy fear!) By yon pale moon, that mines on Lotha's ftream, To meet my foe, imperious Dargo ! here. At this flill, folemn hour, the Briton fwore To leave his (hip, and meet me on the field ; Our enmity, our ftrife, fhall be no more, For one on Lotha's plain his life mud yield. If fuch, Crimora, is thy lover's doom, Rend not the air with unavailing cries, Live to enclofe my afh.es in their tomb, And footh my fhade with funeral obfequies. Why doft thou gaze with wild diftra£led mien ? Retire, my love ! I charge thee, from the fight, Nor dare with frantic zeal to rufh between Our lifted fwords, and to retard the fight. Tho' graceful beauty dwells upon thy face, Tho' foothing accents to thy voice belong, Yet think not one of brave Diaran's race Can be perfuaded to forget a wrong. See ! where the airy mefTengers of rain, The winged clouds, float lightly in the fky ; Hafte thee, Crimora, from the dewy plain, From the impending ftorm, to Selma fly. Gray evening yields her place to fable night, Soon will the moon, involved in clouds, retire, Ah ! take advantage of her prefent light ; — May guardian angels lead thee to thy fire ! [ '47 ] Beneath his hofpitable roof remain, — There, my Crimora ! thou wilt hear my doom, See me return victorious from the plain, Or deck with wreaths my honourable tomb. Crimora. Immortal powers ! avert the threaten'd blow ! — In vain I call, the fates refufe to hear ; Soon fhall I fee thy proud impetuous foe, Soon fhall I feerTis elevated ipear. Rather than urge me from thy fight to go, Plunge me, dear youth ! in Lotha's flormy wave, Where I (efcaping from a life of woe) May clofe my eyes, and find a watry grave. Compel me not, in this eventful hour, To wait, in fad fufpence, at Selma's hall ; — To leave thee is not in Crimora's power ; I know thy valour, — I forefee thy fall. Bereft of hope, devoted to difpair, While life remains, t'will be my wretched doom To beat my throbbing breaft, to rend my hair, And fit beneath the tree that fhades thy tomb. Oft as the hunter panes o'er the heath, Oft as the fhepherd hears me cry aloud, They fhall obferve the mournful houfe of death, And view thy fpirit failing on a cloud. I 2 [ 14* ] Sad will the bards in Selma's hall appear, Whene'er they tune their harps in praife of thee, And fvveet Minona * oft (hall drop a tear, When in a plaintive tone (he fings of me, Lo ! while Crimora fpake, the chief Fierce on the plain \vas feen, And Connal haften'd to his foe, With an intrepid mien. As when, impatient for revenge, Two mighty bulls engage, So did the chiefs begin the fight, With wild impetuous rage. Crimora trembling for her love, Then from her quiver drew A barbed dart, which from her bow With fatal fwiftnefs flew ; At Dargo's breaft fhe aim'd the wound ■ But lo ! the erring dart To Connal's manly bofom flew, And pierced his generous heart. The wretched maid perceiv'd too late The mifchief (he had done ; Frantic (he haften'd to the place, And mourn 'd Diaran's fon. * The miuftrel. [ ! 49 ] There, like a ftatue fix'd, fhe flood, Nor fhed one tender tear, The cold winds whiffled round her head, And blew her golden hair. Dull were her eyes, like fleeting ftars, And palid was her cheek ; Trembling fhe gazed upon the corpfe, And ftrove in vain to fpeak. With folded arms, with downcaft eyes, She there refolv'd to ftay, Till, in contemplating his wound, She figh'd her foul away. Here by this folitary tree, Which near the river grows, And underneath this moffy ground, The lovers fhall repofe. Here will I raife their ruffle tomb, Here ftrew the fweeteft flowers, Here oft I'll ftrike the vocal fhell, Here pafs my evening hours. The mountain bee fhall hum around, The roe fhall bound along, The breeze fhall figh upon the grafs, While forrow rules my fong. [ 150 ] Ye maids of Selma, hither come ! The lovers' fate deplore ; Soft be your reft, ye haplefs pair ! Who fleep, to wake no more. Give me the harp ! — with founds of woe I'll fill the echoing grove, And carve upon this bending tree, The mournful tale of love. [ *5* 1 OLIVIA. iREAD gently o'er this hallow 'd turf! Approach with awe profound ! And with a pious tear embalm The confecrated ground. For here Olivia is interr'd — In peaceful duft fhe fleeps — Around her tomb the graces mourn, And foft-eyed pity weeps. Poor haplefs maid ! by death's coM hand Cut off in beauty's bloom, Each mind that knows the power of love Shall venerate thy tomb. The penfive lover here mail come, His orifons to pay, And village maidens ftrew around The blooming fweets of May. Hither the palid primrofe bring, The violet ever blue, As conftant to its native tint, As me to love Avas true. [ *5* 3 The primrofe leaf was not more foft, More tender, than her heart, Which cou'd not bear misfortune's blaft, Nor love's envenom'd dart. She liv'd within an humble vale, Near Severn's filver ftream, Where fair Olivia's peerlefs charms Was ev'ry fhepherd's theme. Among the train of youthful fwains, Who vow'd eternal love, Young Ferdinand alone had power Her virgin heart to move. So oft he fwore, fo fvveet he fmil'd, She dar'd believe him true ; She thought his heart was like her own, Which falfliood never knew. ('Tis women's nature to believe What artful men may fay ; "Tis theirs, with foftnefs, to perfuade, And bafely to betray.) This truth the loft Olivia found ; Her lover proved untrue ; Allur'd by the defire of change, To other nymphs he flew. Left her to pine and wafte away, Unpitied to complain, To drop the unavailing tear, And heave the figh in vain. [ '53 ] Oft at the folemn midnight hour, When the moon brightly fhone, The mourner wou'd defert her bed, And wander forth alone. To the clear Severn fhe repair'd, And o'er the river hung, While fweet, but melancholy, words Flow'd from her feeble tongue. At early dawn, one fummer clay, A ploughboy led his team Along a path that winds its way By Severn's filver dream. There did he fee the haplefs maid Float down the rapid tide ; He fnatch'd her from a watry grave ; She breath'd a figh, — and died. C iS4 3 ZELIMA: AN ELEGY. " WHY hangs a cloud upon thy lovely brow ? " Where are thy fmiles, thy youthful graces gone ? " Doft thou, dear maid ! a fecret forrow know, " A forrow which thy tongue declines to own ? " Languid and mournful are thofe beauteous eyes, " That us'd to fparkle with a magic fire ; " I hear, with forrow, thy repeated fighs ; " I fee the rofes from thy cheeks retire. " Say, has fome friend been faithlefs to her truft ? " Haft thou the ficklenefs of fortune proved ? " Are thy relations to thy worth unjuft ? " Or art thou flighted by fome youth beloved? " Wherefore, when others join the fportive throng, " (Who at the fhrine of mirth diverfion feek,) " Do mournful accents falter on thy tongue, " And the big tear hang trembling on thy cheek ? C 155 ] ** In vain does pleafure various arts employ, " From fcenes of gayety I fee thee turn, *' As if thy heart had loft the fenfe of joy, " And all thy occupation was to mourn. " To me the troubles of thy bread confide, " To me thy melancholy thoughts impart ; *' Let my fidelity, my truth, be try'd, " And I will lock thy fecret in my heart." To fair Zelima I my words addrefs'd ; With kind complacency (he deign'd to hear ; Then thus divulged the forrows of her bread, And from her eyelid wiped the darting tear. " If filent you have often feen me mourn, " And hide the reafon of my fecret pain, " It was, becaufe my wretched heart was torn " With feelings, which I dared not to explain. " When you have feen me leave the bufy throng, " And fteal towards the fhelter of the grove, " Know that I lied thofe gloomy fhades among, " Wounded by anguifh, and opprefs'd by love. " The fatal fecret I will now reveal — " Confefs my folly, and expofe my fhame, " And try if language can have power to tell " How deep my forrows are — how firong my flame. " I lov'd a youth, of ev'ry charm poffefs'd, " A youth of noble, unaffected mien ; "His form was by the loves and graces drefs'd, " And perfect beauty in his face was feen. [ >5* ] " On his mild accents foft perfuafion hung, "In his bright eyes a tender paflion fhone, " Learning and fenfe flow'd fweetly from his tongue, " And all the powers of pleafing were his own. " Yet, why fhou'd I on his defcription dwell ? " Why give my praifes to fo fair a frame ? " My ftory will his dangerous beauty tell, " My errors will his conquering power proclaim. " Ofmyn was born to-be Zelima's bane ! — " He fpake of honour, and unfading love, " Whilft reafon urg'd her auguments in vain, " And bade me of his vows diftruftful prove. " His haughty parents on our paflion frown'd, " Mean was my birth, — exalted his eftate, — " He facrific'd me to an empty found, " Pride fpake the fentence, and decreed my fate. " (Ah J what is pride ? and what the glittering (hew " That marks the titled minion's fplendid car ? " With artificial joy the heart may glow, " Whilft real happinefs is diftant far. *' What is the idle pageantry of ftate ? " What comforts can the gilded dome impart ? " The tinfel pomps that wait upon the great, " Amufe the eye, — but cannot reach the heart. " Say, ye fuperb ones ! who with wanton pride " Balk in the funbeam fortune has beftow'd, " Say, does content within your gates refide ? " Are all your profperous paths with rofes ftrew'd ? [ 157 ] ** Your lofty canopies, your painted domes, " Your towers, are found accefllble to care ? " Tho' at your door the verdant myrtle blooms, " Yet deadly aconite is alfo there.) " To Ofmyn's pride my mifery I owe, — " Unequal marriage feem'd to him difgrace, " Nor cou'd my anceftor one charter mew, " One mark heraldic of a noble race. ** Yet he, (whofe honour fenfitive, and high, " Scorn'd an alliance with an humble name,) " Cou'd ftoop to arts of an ignoble die " To mar my comfort, and deftroy my fame. — " And now behold me, wretched and forlorn, " Deferted by the perjur'd youth I love, " From all life's fmiling expectations torn, " And doom'd the pangs of penitence to prove. " Neglected by the perfon I ador'd, " Bereft of honour, ftigmatiz'd by fhame, " To me, what pleafures can the world afford ? " What compenfation for the lofs of fame? " In vain this fatal form continues fair, "In vain does youth the tide of grief oppofe, " I feel the inward poifon of difpair " Feed at my heart, and rob me of repofe. " Ye glim'ring tapers ! by whofe wafting flame, " I oft fo fadly have confum'd the night, ■ " Say, have I not with bitter tears of fhame ** Beheld the dawning of returning light r [ 158 ] ** Have I nqt blufh'd to fee the face of day ? " Fled from the multitude that round me prefs'd,. " And to the pathlefs foreft bent my way, " To hide the anguim of a tortur'd breait ? " But foon this conflict of the mind will end — " The hand of forrow figns my early doom, " Towards the grave my weary fteps I bend, " And crave the fhelter of a peaceful tomb. " When in the bofom of the earth I'm laid, " Relate my flory to the gay, and young ; " Inform them how Zelima was betray 'd, " And fpeak the dying dictates of my tongue. " Warn them (from my unhappy fate,) to turn " From flow'ry paths, where lawlefs love prevails j- " Bid them from me this ufeful leffon learn, " That happinefs expires when virtue fails." [ 159 ] THE DRUID; OR, HUBERT and ALFRIDA. " VVHAT cell, my fhepherd boy ! appears " Thofe maple trees among ? " Methought as whilome palling by, " I heard a human tongue ; " Methought I heard a heavy figh, " The dubious found prolong. " The gathering clouds portend a ftorm ; — " I know not where to go ; " Perhaps whoever there refides 11 A lodging may bellow ; Sl Perhaps his charity provides " For indigence and woe." [ *6o ] Answer. The owner is an ancient man, A Druid they him call ; And fure he noble deeds wou'd do, But that his power is fmall : For goodnefs on his brow appears, And wifdom tunes his tongue, He cheers our old men with his harp, He counfels well the young. To others, comfort he beftows ; They ne'er can alk in vain ; But forrow on his quiet preys, And wrings that heart humane. Oft by the pale moon's glimmering light, Thefe chequer'd lhades among, I've feen the meditating fage Steal penfively along. Keen anguifh feem'd to pain his breaft, And tears to fill his eyes, While oft he raifed his hoary head, Appealing to the flues. This day, when whittling winds arofe And drove him to his cell, A fcroll I found upon the way, Which doth his forrows tell. Thus it begins : u Tho' Hope is gone, " I ftill muft fondly trace, " The manners of the child I lov'cf, " The beauties of her face. C i«i ] " Lamented be the fatal hour, " When firft fhe faw the light ! " Yet more the day, when Hubert came " And charm'd my daughter's fight ! " Deluded maid ! with him fhe fled, " Fled from parental care, " Fled with the author of her fhame, " And left me to difpair. " For this, to lonely wilds I fly, " Where fraud is yet unknown, " Where hid from thofe who know my wrongs, " I brood on grief alone. " Soon will the fickle paramour, " For whom fhe left her fire, " Forget his vows of endlefs love, " And all his guilty fire ; " Then loft, abandon'd, and forlorn, " Her heart may turn to me, " And turn in vain — for I that hour " Shall never live to fee. " I droop, I die, beneath my woes — " I fink into the grave ! — " From thofe who may this paper find, " One friendly act I crave : " When I am cold, with cyprefs boughs " My ruftic bier adorn, " And to the fpoiler, Hubert's gate, " Let my remains be borne : Vol. I. U [ i6z, 3 " Then may the guilty lovers fee " The mifchief they have done, *' My child perceive I liv'd for her, " And died, when fhe was gone." No farther cou'd the fhepherd read, For lo ! with difmal cry, The ftranger funk upon the ground, And fenfelefs feem'd to lie. In fearch of aid the frighted youth Flew to the Druid's door, — The Druid on his ftrawy couch, Cou'd give relief no more. Clos'd was the eye that us'd to fhed Benignant rays around ; Mute was the tongue that once cou'd yield The foftefl, fweeteft found. His harp, (whofe filver tones were known With magic to furprize,) Now ufelefs hung, no friend was there To chaunt his obfequies. His lamp a feeble light difFus'd, His hour glafs empty flood, And on a rudely-fafhion'd bier, Some cyprefs boughs were flrew'd. Aghaft the mournful peafant flood, While, waking from her fwoon, The damfel to the threfhold came. And faw what death had done. [ i*3 3 " Ah, father dear!" (he, weeping, cry'd, " Thefe cyprefs wreathes are vain — " The bier need not be brought to me, " For here will end my pain. " Deferted by the cruel youth " Who led my ileps aftray, " Who from thy kind proceeding wing, " Firlt lur'd my heart away. " I heard towards this foreft's fide " Thy fleps were feen to move, " I follow'd ; refolute to die, " Or to regain thy love. ti That love no more can I regain, " Nor yet thy pardon crave — — " Die then, Alfrida ! — learn to die ! " And ileep within his grave." — She faid, and, frantick with difpair, A fecret poniard drew, Sheaih*d it within her fnowy breaft, And bade the world adieu. M a [ i6 4 3 The CONFESSOR. ' WHY doft thou weep, my gentle maid r " What means that downcaft eye ? ' Wherefore this tremor in thy frame ? " And whence that heavy figh ? 1 Are wayward thoughts, that fear the light, " The tenants of thy bread ? ' Does confcience, with envenom'd fling, " Deprive thy foul of reft ? ' Haft thou, by difobedient deeds, " Thy aged parents grieved ? ' Art thou deferted by thy love ? " Or of thy friends bereaved ? * Of frailty does thy foul repent ? " Has illnefs (hook thy frame ? ' Is fharp adverfity thy lot ? " Or is thy portion fhame t" With eyes averted, thus reply 'd The melancholy fair, " My forrows flow from hopelefs love ; " My portion is, difpair. C 165 ] " Devoid of guilt my life has been, " My condu6l free from blame ; " No made of vice, no lawlefs deed, " Has ever mark'd my name. " Hear my confeflion, and forgive " The tears that (till mull flovv^ " And oh ! thou delegate of heaven, " Like heaven, companion ihew. ** My father was a Baron bold, <( Of wealth and high renown ; " In infancy my brethren died, " And I was left alone : " Alone was left, to be the heir " Of all his large eftate, *' To be the Have of dignity, " And miferably great. *' Among the rival train, who made " Profefhons of their love, *' Young Almeric alone had power " My guilelefs heart to move. '* His eyes cou'd all his thoughts exprefs ; - " Thofe fparkling eyes cou r d tell, " That none among th' obfequious throng '* Lov'd Emmeline fo well. " His charms, his worth, his honeft love, " To win my choice combin'd ; Nor was romantic paifion mine, " 'Twas love with reafon join'd. a [ 166 ] " But Almeric alas ! was poor, " My fire his fuit difdain'd, " And I, by fenfe of duty aw'd, '* To own my love refrain'd. " 1 never told the generous youth, " My heart was like his own, But patient dropp'd the filent tear, " Nor made my ftory known. " Ah fatal filence ! fad referve ! " This conduit was my bane, " I now am doom'd to mourn my fate, " And fpeak of love in vain. " The youth miftook referve for pride ; " Difpairing/ he retired ; " Fled to fome unfrequented place, " And there unknown expired." u Expired?" the ConfelToi exclaim'd: " Alas !" the fair reply 'd, " No doubt in fome obfeure retreat, " My haplefs lover died : te For fince the hour that he withdrew, (" With looks that fpake difpair,) " No tidings of his deftiny '* Have ever reach'd my ear. " When he was gone, in frantick mood " His abfence I bewail'd, " Difcretion vanifh'd from my mind, " And love alone prevail'd. C 167 ] " That love I publickly reveal'd, " And made a folemn vow, " That, if bereft of him, I ne'er " At Hymen's fane wou'd bow. " Not long my father liv'd, to mourn " My obftinate decree, " His wealth was my inheritance ; " But what was wealth to me ? " Ah ! do not chide my deep regret, " Nor my difpair reprove, " But tell me how to live refign'd, " Deprived of him I love ?"-— She fpake, and, with a falt'ring tongue, The Friar thus reply 'd : " Far be it from my pitying breaft " Thy conftancy to chide. " I rather wou'd reward thy love, " And banifh ev'ry care — " Ah ! deign to gaze upon thefe eyes, " And read my meflage there." She wildly gazed upon his face, She faw him fhed a tear ; She fell into the Friar's arms, And found her lover there. " Yes!" he exclaim'd, " my gentle love, " Beneath this garb furvey, " That Almeric whofe faithful heart " From thee cou'd never ftray. [ 168 ] " In this difguife array 'd, I came, " My fentence to receive, " To hear thy tongue pronounce my death, ". Or bid me hope, and live. " Bleft be the hour when from thy lips " The foft confeflion came, " When firfl I heard thy tuneful voice " Atteft fo true a flame ! " Thus kneeling, Emmeline ! to thee " Eternal faith I fwear, " Thy love fhall ever be my pride, " Thy happinefs my care." [ i69 ] The CONVICT. TWICE hath the moon with waining luftre fhone, Since thefe fad eyes my native land furvey'd, Since, by the violence of love undone, My wretched frame to ilav'ry was betray'd. From that dire moment o'er my woes I brood, Nor day nor night can minifler relief; Yet the hoarfe murmurs of the turbid flood Seem to reprove my vehemence of grief. Pardon, ye elements ! whom oft my cries Difturb with accents of a wild difpair, And if ye wonder at my frequent fighs, Ah ! feek my love, and read the reafon there. Her eyes, where gentlenefs and candour reign, Her lips, to which perfuafive power is given, Thefe will the caufe of my regret explain, And tell why peace is from my bofom driven. Bewitching foftnefs, interefting grace, Secured the conquefts that her beauty made, Hers were the charms which time can ne'er efface, Manners that pleafe, and reafons that perfuade. t 170 ] Gentle as generous, amiable as fair, From pride, from guile, from affectation free, Camilla liften'd to my ardent prayer, And gave her heart to poverty and me. . Yes ! fhe for me incurr'd a parent's blame, For me, refufed'th' advantage wealth might give, Refolved to recompenfe my honeft flame, And fondly vow'd with Theodore to live. Awhile we banifh'd ev'ry thought of care, My induftry our little wants fupply'd, The Syren hope repeated in my ear, That time might give, what fortune had denied. But falfe her words, and fruitlefs were my pains, (Tho' long I toil'd, and combated with fate,) Whilfl my Camilla's penitential lines In vain were offer'd at her father's gate. In vain fhe fued for pardon, and for bread, The cruel Edgar was not to be moved, Since from his roof clandestinely fhe fled, Pie fcorn'd the daughter, whom he once had loved. At, length misfortune by a fudden blow, Deftroy'd the flender comfort we pofiefs'd, Forbade Camilla's heart with hope to glow, And planted anguifh in her lover's breaft. Worn with my day's fatigue, and wet with rain, One night I haften'd to my lowly bed, There felt thro' all my limbs encreafing pain, And burning fever raging in my head. C 171 1 Long did I ftruggle with the fierce difeafe, Till youth reftored me to a life of woe, Till reafon gain'd her empire by degrees, And taught me trials more fevere to know. I faw Camilla watching o'er my bed ; — Her anxious looks, her interefting voice, Encouraged me to raife my aching head, And in her kind attentions to rejoice. But ere my frrength enabled me to feek The means of life, I heard Camilla figh, Saw the faint rofe grow paler on her cheek, And languor threat'ning in her heavy eye. Ah ! what avail'd my energy of prayer ! Each hour the malady more ferious grew ; Pain, grief, defpondence, our companions were, While poverty and famine join'd the crew. Our all was gone ; — Camilla, for my fake, Had robb'd herfelf of neceifary food, Made me in illnefs the lall model take, Tho ! fhe with want and watching was fubdued. But nature cou'd not keep the fecret long ; Her refolution with her ftrength decay 'd ; The fuffering angel now, with falt'ring tongue, And eager look, petition 'd me for bread. " Yet ftay !" fhe cry'd. " My fufFerings I defervc I " The momentary aid will ufelefs prove — ft When difobedient minds from duty fvverve, " A curfe attends upon the name of love. [ «7* ] " My father's anger will at length fubfide, " When he is told the rigour of my doom, "Is told, for thy dear fake content I died, " To live with whom I left my native home. " Adieu, dear objecl: of my early vows ! " Friend of my bofom ! do not grieve for me ; • u The ftrongeft pang thy dying partner knows, " Believe me, Theodore 1 is leaving thee." — I faw her faint, I heard her feeble groan, — The fcene was more than mortal could endure ; Her life I priz'd far dearer than my own ; The ill was prefling — defperate the cure. Arm'd with a piftol, to the door I flew, Heedlefs of danger, to reflexion loft, To fave my love I dar'd a crime to do, For which I'm exil'd to a favage coaft. Camilla's danger nerv'd my feeble hand ; With ruffian rage a ftranger I addrefs'd ; I made his purfe my infolent demand, And held the piftol to his trembling breaft. My aim was to retard Camilla's doom, To purchafe food, and fave a ftarving wife, But him I robb'd, foon trac'd me to my home, And with revengeful ire, purfued my life. While in a prifon's lothefome walls I laid, The dreadful ftory came to Edgar's ear, He to Camilla due afliilance paid, But when Hie fpake for me, refufed her prayer. [ >73 1 The judge with jufl, but harfh feverity, Pronounced my fentence with an awful voice ; Nor made allowance, tho' Neceflity Plac'd me with felons who had robb'd from Choice. Yes amongft men accuftom'd to aggrieve, Inured to falihood, and to mifchief prone, They fentenced me in foreign lands to live, And, by my fufferings, for my fault atone. While my Camilla's weak and wretched ftate Doom'd her to linger on the bed of pain, They dragg'd me forth, to my ignoble fate, And launch 'd the deftin'd velfel on the main. Condemn'd to banifhment, of hope bereft, My name degraded, and Camilla loft, In fallen filence I the prifon left, My thoughts by fhame, and deep defpair, engrofs'd ; But when the breeze to fill the fails began, When Albion's dear lov'd cliffs were left behind, Thro' my wild brain, keen recollection ran, And rouzed each dormant paflion of the mind. Then did a thoufand tender thoughts arife, So late fubdued by fhame, and ftrange amaze, Towards the lefs'ning Ihore, I turn'd my eyes, (Ting'd by die fetting fun's departing rays.) With eager ken, and with diforder'd mien, I ftrain'd my fight, yet to behold the place, Till in th' horizon like a fpeck 'twas feen, Then fading cuiite away, was loft in fpace. [ 174 ] Since that fad moment o'er my woes I brood, Nor day nor night can minifter relief; Yet the hoarfe murmurs of the turbid flood Seem to reprove my vehemence of grief. For fure my crime may in the fight of Heaven, Find mercy, when Camilla was the caufe, My firft, my only crime, be there forgiven, Tho' doom'd to punifhment by human laws. When I from far the fcreaming curlew hear, Rouzed by the found, in frantick mood I rave, Methinks Camilla's voice aflails my ear. Breathes in each blaft, and fwells in ev'ry wave. Awhile I catch the fafcinating found, By phrenzied fancy into error led, — Then caft my looks difconfolate around, And long to join the fpirits of the dead. Religion bids me hated life endure ; — I yield obedient to the high beheft, Tho' death invites me to accept a cure, For all the woes that rankle in my breaft. Oft when the moon her filver beam haft caft Along the bofom of the flumbering deep, When the furl'd fail hangs idle on the maft, And all but Me have loft their cares in fleep, Penfive I fit, the victim of defpair, Condemn'd to bonds, tho' fervitude I fcorn. Without a friend my drooping foul to cheer — A ruin'd wretch, unpitied, and forlorn. C *7S ] When the winds blow, and diftant breakers rife, Carelefs I hear the deep prophetic roar, And tho' pale lightning fhoots along the flues, Shun not the terrors of the awful hour. My comrades tremble at th' encreafmg wave, And read deftruclion in the lab'ring iky, Whilft hanging o'er the fhrouds, the florm I brave, Grown prodigal of life, and glad to die. Yet rather wou'd I meet my country's foes, Than drop unnoticed in a watry grave, Rather my life in fuch a caufe expofe, And fall amid the plaudits of the brave ! So might my actions dignify my name, And prove I mourn not from a coward's fears ; So might my death be regifter'd by fame, And deem'd deferving of Camilla's tears ! That foothing thought brings comfort to my bread, Arrefts the tear of woe, the blufh of fhame ; My injuries muft ftill be unredreft, Yet my difgrace may be repair'd by fame. Oh thou ! to whom this breaking heart adheres, Pride of my life ! and obje£l of my love ! Ne'er mayft thou know the agonizing cares, Thy haplefs Theodore is doom'd to prove. Unheard by thee, for liberty I figh ; Unfeen by thee, I drop th' unmanly tear ; Loath to exift — and yet forbid to die, Tho' life prefents no charm, and death no fear. [ '7* ] In dreams alone I can forget my woe, In dreams alone behold Camilla live, See that foft cheek with blooming beauty glow, And words of comfort from thofe lips receive. Come then, fweet fleep ! and clofe my aching eyes, Nor let me (till invoke thine aid in vain ; Thy vifions oft the want of peace fupplies, Come then, fweet fleep ! and mitigate my pain. Let fancy hover o'er this weary head, My frantick rage, my deep defpair, controul, Banifh the horrors that furround my bed, And in Camilla's voice compofe my foul. t 177 ] On the Earl of Mansfield falling with Lady Ed- ward Bentinck from a bench in the Ball Room at Tunb ridge Wells, (occafiond by a kettle being overfet on the table where they were drinking tea,) in which fall the Earl lofl his wig. WHO wou'd not think it perfect blifs, In fuch a gallant caufe as this, With fuch a fair to fall ? How cou'd a courtier be afraid ! When youth and beauty claim'd his aid, The facrifice was fm all. Fair nymph ! for thee the ruflic fquire Wou'd leave his hounds, the bard his lyre, His quill, and laurel crown ; The monk wou'd ceafe to count his beads, The pilgrim throw afide his weeds, The fenator his gown. Mourn not, ye judges ! when we tell How from the bench Earl Mansfield fell, For justice thus reply s : *' Without a wig, — without a gown, " He (till mud equally be known, " Pre-eminently wife. " Not unto outward forms confin'd, " His bright, his comprehenfive mind, " In ev'ry drefs the fame, " Diffufes o'er the world its ray, " And keeping death and time at bay, " Glows with one fleady flame." Vol. I. N [ i?8 ] An invocation to"the Nymph of the Spring at Tunbridge JVelhy on Lord Mansfield having exprefs'd an intention of leaving the place. ARISE, fair Naiad, from thy well, Arife and tune the vocal fhell ; Try ev'ry foft bewitching art, To charm the ear, and pleafe the heart, Till Mansfield mail thy voice obey, And near thy fpring confent to flay. Sweetly warble in his ear, " Health ! and all her train are here; tl Health ! whofe liberal hand beftows " Nights of undifturb'd repofe, " Hours of focial mirth and glee, " Days of foft tranquillity.'* Nymph ! at thy pellucid fpring Ruddy health delights to dwell, Fanning with her magic wing The mineral fparks that fill thy well, And o'er the furface of the ftream Hope fheds her fafcinating beam. Bacchus ! rofy god of wine, Muft to thee the palm refign ; His fweets ne&areous may impart A short-lived banquet to the heart, May diflipate the gloom of care, And fhield the fufferer from difpair, f 179 ] May bid the flave forget his chains. The exiled wretch his native plains, And, by a tranfient joy, fufpend The anguifh of an injured friend. Yet long the vifion cannot laft, With Reafon, forrow's force returns, The dream of happi nefs is part, — The flave perceives his chain, and mourns Again the lover feels his pains, Again the injur'd friend complains ; The artificial fpirits ceafe to blaze, And weaken'd nature rapidly decays. But thou, O nymph ! canfl cheer mankind, Invigorate the drooping mind, Bid faded beauty reafTume Her fprightly grace, her rofeate bloom, Give fpirit to the languid eye, And banifh from the breaft Dejection's figh, Whilft o'er thy fparkling fountain bends The wifeft judge, the belt of friends, Nymph of the ftream ! indulgent heaven The grateful tafk to thee has given To bid him from thy well receive The renovating draught — and live : Thy power has made thofe eyes benign With all their former luftre mine ; Science, and art, no longer mourn, Again they fee his health return, And hear his tuneful lips difpenfe The words of pureft eloquence. N a [ «*> ] On a Robin Redbreajl being in one of the windows in the Drawing Room at St. James's, on New - Tears Day, 1784. SAY, idle flutterer ! why art thou Come hither with the motley crowd ? Who promife, flatter, cringe, and bow, Each of his own importance proud ! Poor bird! unnotic'd thou wilt wait, A trifler, loft among the great. Why, Robin, didft thou venture here ? Did Royal Charlotte's gentle mien Encourage thee to come fo near, Attracted by her look ferene ? Say, didft thou leave the peaceful grove, To hear her fpeak, to fee her move ? Or wert thou won by Townfhend's fmile ?- Did Jerfey's charms thy heart enfnare ? Did Stormont's eyes thy fteps beguile ? Or Buckingham's majeftic air ? Or Devonshire's bewitching face Entice thee to this bufy place ? Or, fay ! did Rutland's form divine, And graceful air, attract thy fight ? JOid Melbourn's contenance benign, Thee, rambler ! to the Court invite ? The rifque of accidents to brave, At beft, a voluntary Have ! [ i»i ] Whate'er the real caufe may be That brought thee, filly creature ! here, May none, with eyes malicious, fee The Redbreaft as he hovers near, Ah ! may no hand profane prefume To bear thee from the Royal Room : For thou haft merit few poffefs, Who here their frequent homage pay ; They often hate whom they carefs, And flatter only to betray ; Whilft thou, who ne'er deceit haft known, Art worthier to approach the throne. The Robin'* Anfwer, I POOR tho' I am, of humble feather, And almoft frozen with the weather, Yet queftion'd thus, I, by your leave, An anfwer to your words will give ; For fince the day of odes is come, I chufe to feel myfelf at home. Firft, you are pleas'd to aflc the reafon, Why I am here ! — pray, is it treafon, That honefty, tho' not prefented, Shou'd gain accefs ? Am I prevented From coming in with Fafhion's herd, Becaufe my father was a bird ? [ It* ] Some here may have more caufe than me For blufhing at their pedigree. Yet no ambition brings me hither, It is neceflity, and weather ; * Benumb'd, and almoft famifh'd too, In at the Palace gate I flew : But tho' the fnow and pinching cold Made me fo defperately bold, Yet, awed, and fearful of a frown, I keep at di fiance from the throne, Nor with aflurance flutter near Thofe Royal Perfons I revere. Permit me, then, to plead my caufe, Tho' not au fait in human laws, Tho' not, like Erfkine, blefs'd with fenle, And all the charms of eloquence. Whilft the fair fex like magpies chatter, Whilft. petit maitres vow and flatter, I, who can neither lye nor prate, In fimple lays my tale relate, And fpeak the language of a heart Unpractis'd in the rules of art. Perhaps I'm reckon 'd unpolite, Becaufe my drefs may not be right ; No fword, nor buckles, can I wear, Nor in a velvet coat appear ; Th' embroider'd paramant, and veft, The chateau bras, with feathers drefs 'd, The filken bag, the powder'd pate, Are things I cannot imitate ; Yet I have known fome pretty beaux, Men of the ton, renown'd for clothes, Who in their waiflcoats * copy me, And wear my flaming livery. * Alluding to the fcarlet waiftcoats worn at that time. t >»3 3 Then why fhou'd I their fight offend. If on a beauty I attend, Enamour'd, gaze on Rutland's face. And doat on her fuperior grace, Her ruby lip, her radiant eyes, (Where dignity and fweetnefs lies,) Her form fo elegant and fair, Her tafte in drefs, her matchlefs air. But if fome fop fhou'd drive me thence, And curfe me for my impudence, To Thurlow's copious wig I'd fly, And there, fecure from infult, lie ; His noble heart with honour glows, He fure wou'd guard me from my foes, Nor (hake poor Robin from a wig So comfortably warm, and big, But if he fhou'd not think me fit To tarry there, I'd fly to Pitt ; Then, above garters, ftars, and all Who low at Fortune's altar fall ; I fhou'd look down, with pride elate, On the mean followers of flate, Whilft he, to whom indulgent heaven Perfuafive eloquence has given, Wou'd plead my caufe, without remiffion. Till the Queen granted this petition : Robin's Petition to Her Majesty. DEIGN, Royal Charlotte ! deign to hear, An humble, artlefs creature's prayer : Allow me freely here to rove, Attendant on the Queen I love ; [ i*4 3 Prote&ed from th' inclement air, Ah ! let me hop, or flutter here, Thro' the apartments dayly go, Now fing above, now chirp below, And pick, whenever I am able, The crumbs beneath the Chaplain's table. I 185 1 An ADDRESS to KENWOOD. YE happy fcenes ! by tafte improved, By all the friends of virtue lov'd, Who reverence Mansfield's name : Whilft wifdom, learning, worth, receives That praile the mind difcerning gives, Thy groves will merit fame. For oft by yon pellucid ftream, The great infpirer of my theme Has been obferv'd to dray. There pour'd inflruflion on the ear, Or mourn'd with thofe who penfive were, Or laugh 'd among the gay. His brow was never feen to frown, Save when fuch glaring deeds were known, As wore a fraudful dye. Then did the wretch, appal'd with fear, Behold him as a Judge fevere, And dread his piercing eye. He temper'd dignity with eafe, Knew how to awe, and how to pleafe, How blend refpecl with love ; He cheer'd the timid with a fmile, The fad could of their cares beguile, The guilty wou'd reprove. C **6 3 Again he feeks your tranquil fhades— Ah haften, ye Aonian maids ! And tune the lyric firing, With founds harmonious footh his ear ; — Ye flowers ! with gayer tints appear, Ye birds more fweetly fing ! Yet vain is all the bloom of fpring, In vain the choral warblers fing To thofe with pain oppreft. Hear then, oh! hear the mufe's prayer! Hygeia ! hafte to meet him there. And long remain his gueft. C 187 3 On the Earl ^Mansfield'* Portrait painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. 1 HE artift well has drawn each graceful line, And from his animating pencil thrown Thofe traits of wifdom which confpicuous mine, To mark a fpirit deftin'd for renown. Deep learning, thought profound, and judgement ftrong, Temper'd with mild ferenity, is there, A fweet expreflion to thofe eyes belong, Unlike the fcornful glance, the look fevere. Each foft affection gives a namelefs grace ; — There candour fpeaks, and amity benign, Thofe focial virtues beaming from the face, Reynolds ! thy pencil only cou'd defign. While memory lafts, this matchlefs proof of fkill Another trophy to thy fame will raife ; Thy works of fancy muft enchant us ftill, But this demands our more immediate praife. Long may the wife original appear The boaft and wonder of a grateful age ! An age that muft the character revere Which forms an able judge, a virtuous fage. t 188 3 ODE to SENSIBILITY. SWEET fenfibility ! thou power " To fecial intercourfe fo dear, " Thou ftar philofophers adore, " Oh ! fparkle any where but here. " This bofom dares contend with thee, '* Whofe fway it has too long obey'd ; " I pant, I languifh, to be free, " To break the bonds which thou haft made. " 'Tis true, thy influence recommends " The minds wherein it does refide ; •* It turns acquaintance into friends ; " It bleffes thofe whom feas divide ; " It lends fociety delights, " Unknown to fouls of duller fenfe ; " To noble fentiments incites, " And frowns upon indifference. " Infpir'd by fenfibility, " The tear of generous pity flows ; " Love cannot live, unlefs with thee, " To whom his confequence he owes. [ i»9 3 e< As to the leaf, at early morn " The lucid dewdrop frefhnefs gives, " Where'er thy rays the mind adorn, " That mind, the power to pleafe, receives. " The tear, the figh, that may be given " By thee, when but a fparrow dies, " Are purer, in the fight of heaven, " Than all the language pomp fupplies. " By thee, 'tis true, thou power divine ! " Our pleafures double force acquire, l( Our thoughts thy influence can refine, " With bright enthufiaftic fire : < c Yet do thy votaries alfo prove " Thofe pangs indifference cannot feel, •*' Thofe dire extremes of grief and love, " Beyond what language can reveal. " A thoufaud anxious thought and cares, " Which dull indifference does not know, " A thoufand jealoufies and fears, " Beneath thy patronage may grow. " Oh ! then, fince for a tafle of fweet, " A draught of bitter thou mayft give, " With dreams of joy forbear to cheat, '* And let me with indifference live : " So fhall my dull, inactive mind ** No violence of paffions prove ; " My thoughts, infipid and confin'd, " Will neither tend to hate nor love. C 190 ] " Then will impatience, forrow, rage, " Each wild emotion, be fupprefs'd 9 " My heart, at peace within its cage, '* No more will difcompofe my bread. " Keen Difappointment's cruel dart " Will ceafe to give a moment's pain ; " Ingratitude to fting the heart, " Anxiety to rack the brain." Thus Flavia fpake : when at her fide A light, fantaftic form was feen ; His wings with various tints were dy'd, And youthful grace adorn 'd his mien. The phantom was of fairy fize, And gentle as the breath of May, Expreflion fparkled in his eyes, Whilft thus he faid, (or feem'd to fay :) " To check the fervor of thy prayer, " To mortal fight I'm thus reveal 'd ; — " Behold thy Guardian Angel here, " Thy faithful Sylph, till now conceal'd. " Long have I watch'd, by day, by night, " On thee, with unremitting zeal j " Invifible to Laura's fight, " I've known each pang her heart could feel. <{ Whene'er thy pulfe with rapid pace " The heart's emotion doth betray, " I read difturbance in thy face, " I hade to chafe the ftorm away. [ '9' 3 " And if a thought of angry kind " E'er gains dominion o'er the reft, u I drive the rebel from your mind, " I bring compofure to your breaft. " Thy joys, thy griefs, cou'd never fpring " But that their fource to me was known ; " I've exercis'd this magic wing, " To make felicity thine own. " The other an employment bears " Of equal confequence I ween, " It banifhes ideal cares, " And gives eclat to ev'ry fcene. ** But know, fhort-fighted creature ! know, " I fenlibility revere, <€ To whom the race of mortals owe " The greateft blifs that waits them here. " Depriv'd of her infpiring aid, '* Your life iufipid you wou'd find, " Pleafure, and joy, and mirth, wou'd fade, " And leave a fullen gloom behind. " Friendlhip no longer cou'd impart " Thofe fweets that virtue does approve, " Loft to your metamorphos'd heart, ** Wou'd be companion, hope, and love. '* No fympathy wou'd thee incline, " To {hare the intereft of a friend, " No fentimental thought be thine, " Nor wou'd the mufe thy call attend. [ I 9 2 ] " Be then contented to retain " That fenfibility you mourn ; " Your heart refills its power in vain ; " With your exiftence it was born.- " By fate implanted in your breaft, " It never will be banifh'd thence, " Till Laura in the grave (hall reft, " And there obtain indifference." C r 93 3 The SYLPh! W HERE woodbines wave among the checquer'd made, Beneath an elm, was Amaryllis laid ; Acrofs the grove fhe cart an anxious look, Then fighing foft, this tender language fpoke : " The heavy hours are almoft pad, " That part my love and me : " My longing eyes may hope at laft, " Their only wiih to fee." But lo ! a Sylph emerging from the made, Refulgent fhone before the wond'ring maid, Like Maia's fon replete with youthful grace, Airy his form, intelligent his face, His wings emblazon 'd like the peacock's tail, His breath balfamic as the fouthern gale, His eyes expreffive of a foul within, Alive to pleafure, yet averfe to fin. " Arife," he cry'd ; " forfake this gloomy grove, " Haunted by evil fp rights, and foes to love ; " Here baleful doubt beneath the nightfhade grows, " Empoifons hope, and banilhes repofe. Tot. I, » [ *94 ] Arife, fair maid ! and join the feftive throng, Who in yon princely dome unite in fong. The choral lay requires thy tuneful voice : At thy approach the minftrels will rejoice ; The lyre, fo long unftrung, attun'd by thee, Shall yield tire fofteft founds of melody. The banquet yet for Amaryllis waits, The gay proceflion lingers in the gates." Amaryllis. In vain you court me : to a mind difeas'd, Thofe things no longer charm that lately pleas'd ; Loft is for me the harmony of fong, And vain the mirth of the convivial throng. I ftay, left Damon fhou'd perchance be feen, (For Damon oft has wander'd o'er the green,) The fight of him is dearer far to me, Than all your boafted charms of revelry." Sylph. Ah, Nymph ! how often have I ken thee move, Graceful, and gay, acrofs yon citron grove, Eager to dance among the village maids, Whofe ftep enlivens, and whofe tongue perfuades. In that fame grove thofe jocund virgins meet The rebec's found, the merry tabor's beat. Thou, only thou, alas ! art wanting there, To charm the fwains, and to direcl the fair. To win thofe praifes which to thee belong, And reign the favourite of the feftal fong. Lo ! pleafure calls thee to her wanton court, Where fafhkm triumphs, and the graces fport, t 195 ] " Where pride is gratify'd, where joy is feen, " And pomp of drefs, that might befit a Queen ; " Embroider'd fandals, dazzling to the view, " And robes of tyrian purple, are thy due ; " For thee a garland is already made ; " For thee a zone, with coftly gems inlaid. " Arife, fair Nymph ! adjuft thy flowing hair, " Move to the feftival, and conquer there : " Take the bright robe ; — the zone, the garland claim, " And tafte the tranfport of fuperior fame." Amaryllis. " Forbear thefc flattering words ! from one alone " Thofe flattering words wou'd wear a Syren's tone, " Wou'd plead with foft infinuating power, " And make me vain, who was not vain before. " Let others dance, (altho' the dance I love,) " Let them fuperior praife, and preference prove, " The dance I fcorn if Damon is not there, " Nor wifh another fwain fhou'd think me fair ; " Soft Lydian airs, gay dances, jovial fongs, " To mirth and all her motley train belongs ; " My foul, an alien to fuch joys as thefe, " Prefers the gloom of thefe protecting trees. " Or cou'd my mind be for a moment gay, " To other fcenes I fhou'd dire£t my way, " More ufeful fports than what you praife are found — " For deeds more glorious I have oft been crown'd." Sylph. " Come then, with me, and haunt the favage boar ; " Let active wild purfuits, thy peace reftore. o 2 [ i 9 6 ] " Have I not feen thee buflcin'd for the chafe, " With eager tranfport fparkling in thy face, " Urging the Thracian hounds, to whofe full cry " The valleys echo'd ? — my approving eye " Has feen thee with a train of archers (land, " Aiming thine arrow with unerring hand ; " And oft have I admir'd the agile grace " With which fair Amaryllis won the race. " Ah ! let ambition (till thy bofom fire, — " Again to victory and praife afpire ; " Thy hounds for freedom and employment pant, " The lazy archers thy example want, " The races languifh, nature feems to mourn, " And Zephyr whifpers, ' Gentle maid, return ! " Return to fcenes of innocent delight, " Receive the praife which is fo much your right." Amaryllis. {i There was a time when fports like thefe cou'd charm, " And hopes of victory my bofom warm ; " The chafe with ardent zeal my fpirits fir'd, " The race I lov'd, and horfes I admir'd ; " But Damon then among the huntfmen rode, " Damon his fkill among the archers fliew'd, " Damon was then the umpire of the race ; " 'Twas his the crown of victory to place. " He twin'd the garland round my flowing hair, " (Type of the bondage I was doom'd to wear,) " His fmile encourag'd, and his voice approv'd ; *' I read his eyes, — and thought myfelf belov'd. " I ftruck my lyre to words that he had made, " I fang to pleafe him in the myrtle fhade j C *97 3 " But now he flies to folitary cells, " (Where pale Dejection forms her cloudy fpells,) " Pines with fome fecret woe, fome wayward care, " Some thought, that Amaryllis muft not fhare : " Pangs fuch as mine perchance the fhepherd's proves, ". Purfues a phantom — and defponding loves. " Afk me not, then, to leave this calm retreat, " Where refignation meekly takes her feat, " My heart is cold to ev'ry mirthful fenfe, " It aims alone to learn indifference. " The fports which once I lov'd, are priz'd no more, " And all the joys of laughing eafe are o'er." Sylph. " Hence with difguife ! thou fhalt no more repine — " Thy truth, thy conftancy, has made me thine : ** A flame fo bright, a preference fo ftrong, *' Deferves th' Hiftorian's praife, the Poet's fong; " Compell'd by me, in fecret Damon mourns, " For thee he fighs, for thee his bofom burns ; " Fearful left thou fhou'dfi: on his wiihes frown, *' He fhuns thy fight, and dwells in woods alone ; " Doubts his own merits, magnifies thy charms, " And fears that beauty, who his bofom warms. " Ceafe, then, fair Nymph ! thy Damon to fufpe&, " Of roving fancies, or of cold negle£r. ; " My power this prize to Amaryllis gave, " My power decided him to be thy flave ; " Nor will I let him wilh from thee to rove, " For know, fair Shepherdefs ! —— that I am Love." [ '98 3 ■ The TRIUMPH of NATURE. COULD all thefe happy hills and dales, " Thefe fhady groves, ' thefe verdant vales, & To Nature owe their birth ? " Did not the hand of art combine, " To form the excellent defign, " And decorate the earth r" Thus as I fpake, methought a breeze Came whifpering thro' the nodding trees, And magic fill'd the air, A nymph approach'd with heavenly mien, In form, in drefs, a Sylvan queen, And thus began the fair : •' Has art feduc'd thee, to believe " That fhe muft fome refinement give, " To make my fcenes complete ? " Renouncing me, alas ! for her, " Can you thofe modern works prefer, . " Where whim and fafhion meet ? t 199 3 " The vain pretender always claims " A fifterihip, and joins our names, " In hopes we may agree ; " But ftill, my influence (hou'd be known, " Futile is artifice alone, " She only copies me. " Who makes the forefl, ev'ry year, " In verdant livery appear ? " Who vegetates the earth ? " Who with luxuriant hand, affords " The various fruits that crown your boards, " And wine, for fons of mirth ? a Who paints the butterfly's gay wing ? " Who, from the fertile lap of fpring, " A thoufand gifts bellows ? " Who makes the peacock's plumage glow ? " Who bids the hyacinth to blow ? " And who perfumes the rofe ? " The fweets that m my garden bloom, '* Excel the bloflbms Gallia's loom " Ingenioufly has wove ; " My flowrets, in the meaneft field, il Variety of colours yield, " That art can ne'er improve. " What tho' their charms in winter die, " My hand in fummer can fupply " An inexhaufted {lore : " In mines of marble I am found, " In fpars, in foflils under ground, " In gems, and golden ore. [ 20O 3 " If greater works I mull unfold, " Go to the beach ! and there behold '* The wonders of the fea ; " Explore the fhells that lie below, > " Gaze on the variegated fhew, — *' Then turn, and follow me. " My gifts are frank good-humour'd eafe, " A guilelefs thought, a wifh to pleafe, " A tear for friends diftrefs'd ; " A focial fmile, a tranquil mind, " Freedom by chaftity refin'd, " And love by reafon drefs'd. " Far from ambition, noife, and ftrifc, " I innocently pafs my life, rt Fond of my native groves ; " I fmile on friendship's facred tie, " I teach the fhepherd's beaming eye " To tell how much he loves. " I laugh with thofe who happy are, " I frown with thofe who frown at care, " And mourn with thofe that weep : " With peace and liberty I ftray ; *' They my companions are by day, " And watch me whilfl I fleep. " But tho' devoid of all offence, *' Tho' rich in ev'ry real fenfe, " Yet I deferve compaffion ; e * That forcerefs ! that deceiver, art! u Has poifon'd many a Britifh heart, *' And made me out of fafhion. [ 201 ] u She to exccll my fame pretends, Its only region is the human mind. Yet what avails the fad conviction now ? Cornelia fliou'd have known it long ago. Enthuuaftic zeal my fteps betray 'd, And influenc'd the choice I raflily made ; Svvay'd by religious fcruples, I withdrew From the vain World, and bade my friends adieu ; Heav'n claim'd my fervices — but love receives The laft regrets a broken fpirit gives — Grief fills my heart, and feeds upon my bloom ; Albert, farewell ! — I haften to my tomb ! When I am gone, be thou refign'd to fate — Tho' not contented, I at lead am great. That foothing thought fpeaks comfort to my woes, And make amends for all my loft repofe. The remnant of my days is almoft fpun, My vow has been fulfill'd, my duty done, My foul from voluntary guilt is free, I gave myfelf to heaven — but die for thee. P 8 [ 212 J A BALLAD in the ANCIENT STYLE, ENTITLED The JUDGEMENT of CUPID. A Gentile Knyghte yfraught with wo, Was wending o'er the playne, Enduringe forrowe's cruel fmarte From Amabel's difdayne. The flouerie turfe was fprent with dewe, As dufkie nighte advaunc'd, In circles on the velvet greene The Elfin people daunc'd : But the fadde Knyghte, immers'd in thoughte, Perfu'd his way alone, And queftion'd his uncertaine mynde, If there had e'er beene knowne, A damozell devoide of arte, Whofe guilelefs harte wou'd prove, In fpighte of accident and time, Trewe to its earlie love ; [ 2I 3 ] Who, proofe to ev'rie gawdie lure That grandeure can difplaie, Rejects the counfels of the proude, Th' enfample of the gaye. " No ! he exclaim'd, a nymph fo*trewe " Has never yet beene found ; " Their conduct is devoide of fenfe, " Their love an empty found. " Unconftant Amabel ! farewell. " To cure a wounded harte " My lonefome pilgrimage I take, " Far from the fcenes of arte. " The fkies which looke fo bryghte at noon, " Are blent with clouds at eve ; " So woman with precarious fmyle " Is fafhion'd to deceive. " The gay rofiere, fo frefh and trim, " Which is in gardens founde, " Whofe fragraunce tempts the traveller, " With thorns his honde will wounde. " So woman's fair bewitchinge face fi Conceals a traitrous harte, " She ftrikes an arrowe in our brefte, " But fcorns to heal the fmarte. " Who then wou'd bende to beauty's power " And weare ignoble chaynes ? u Sithe we no guerdon can expeel, " For all our cares and paines." t «4 ] He fayde — and by his grief beguiled Far from his purpos'd road, He found his wearie fteed had ftray'd Amid a fpacious woode. No ruftlinge leaf, or bendinge bough. Or rippling ftreame was heard ; Nought ftirr'd except the flitting bat, And fage Minerva's bird. Bewilder'd there, this gentile Knyghte Conftrayned is to refle : The Hamadryads he invokes To let him be their gueftc. His polifh'd helme, and blazon 'd fhielde, He lays benethe a tree, Whofe ancient and capacious boughs Form'd a greene canopie. The God of deep with leaden wande At length fubdues his eyes, And bids from Fancy's airy court Fictitious fcenes arife. A wond'rous vifion then appeared, With ftraunge aventures fraught ; — To juftify the female race, A qryftal fhrine was broughte, Thro' which diftin&ly was furvey'd The types of Cupid's trade ; Thence fighs were heard, thence tears were ftied, There bleedinge hartes were layde. [ 215 3 Apparelled with flowers and leaves A myrtle tree there ftoode, Benethe whofe made love's filken chaynes, And poifon'd darts were ftrew'd. A naked boy befide it lay, Yclad with purple wings. Cupid his name ! a power that rules Both favages and kinges. High o'er the fhryne a lamp yfhone, That mock'd the diamond's blaze, The bryghte etherial flame therein. Shot forth Phebean rays : Nor wyndes nor raine cou'd ever damp The luftre of that flame, 'Twas guarded by an heavenlie nymph, And Conftancie her name : Arraied in robes celeftial blue, She never mov'd her eyes From the pure lampe, whofe facred fire The virtues authorize. Plac'd on a throne of adamant, Whofe bafis none could move, She triumph'd over everie foe, That ftrove to weaken love. The fon of Venus with a fmyle Addrefs'd th' attentive Knyghte : " Prepare, Syr Elidure ! prepare " To fee a wondrous fighte. [ *i6 3 " Champion of female worth, I come, " Thy judgement to difprove, " And fhewe thee by enfamples paft, " How well the fex can love. " For this, I from th' Elyfian fields " Some love-ficke fhades invoke " To rife, and juftifie their fame, " Which fuffer'd whilft you fpoke. " Not erfl as Paris was feduc'd " By Cytherea's eyes, " Withe partial judgement to decree "In beauty's ryghte the pryze, " But to the fayre whom mofl I deem© " Renown'd for generous love, " I mean a recompence to give, " My preferaunce to prove. 11 Whoever hathe pofiefs'd a harte " Where Conftancie has reign 'd, " Where pure difinterefted love il His empire has maintain'd, " Shall to Elyzium bear the mark " Of juft pre-heminence : " With myrtle guirlond I'll reward " Her love and excellence." He fayde — and foone a hollow founde Came whifpering thro' the grove, A feeble lyghte y fpredde the tr ees, And Nature aided Love. £ 2i7 3 Swift thro' the fhaydes a fpe6lre mov'd Withe a diforder'd aire, And rudely on her moulders hung Her fayre difhevel'd haire. Her unfubftantial dreary form Came glidinge to the fane, And thus, with hollowe voyce, fhe gan Molt fadlye to complaine. " Wherefore fhou'd other ghofts afcend, " To claime the pryze from thee ? '* When none has beene the dupe of love, " So cruelly as me. " For Thefeus I forfook my fire, " O'er ftormie feas to roam ; " Beguil'd by love, forgot renown, " And left my regal home. " My flame was ardent and fincere, " Beyonde what others prove ; " But perjur'd Thefeus me betray'd, ii And onlye feign'd to love. " Oh ! thinke of Ariadne's griefe, " When on a foreigne fhore " She founde, too late, her rafh miftake, " And fawe her love no more !" She fpake, (concluding withe a fyghe :) But Cupid frown 'd fevere, For grapes and ivie on her brow He i\i\Vj and fcorn'd her prayer. Then Arria, withe exalted mien, Her bloody dagger fhew'd, And Sophonifba brought a bowl In pois'nous juice embru'd. Next hand in hand a troup appeer'd Of noble Roman dames, Whofe virtues the hiftorian's pen And paynter's null proclaymes. Octaria, with a patient mynde, Who fuffer'd cruel wronge, Yet never let a harm rebuke Be heard to pafs her tongue ; Cornelia, whofe chafte tenderneflfc Was by her conduit fhewne, Who rather Pompey's ills wou'd mare. Than live fecure alone. With thefe, the wild Horatia came, Whofe hands a fcarf difplay'd, Where Curiatii's noble name And virtues were pourtray'd. Penelope her fubtle webb Exhibited from farre, And urg'd her rare fidelitie Throughout the ten yeeres warre. Andromache in fuble weeds, To Helior's memorie trewe, With a majeftic penfive ayre Toward the altar drewe. f 2I 9 ] But thefe perhaps were influenc'd By fenfe of noble pryde, Which ever in the dayes of yore, Hathe beene the matron's guide. As the illuftrious fhades pafs'd bye, Behind them one was feene, Who neere approachinge, floode confeft The lovely Spartan Queene. She who prefer'd her paramoure To dignitie and fame, Tranfgrefs'd her vows — forfooke her Lord, And fcandaliz'd hys name. Brighte were her beauteous eyes like ftars Enlumining her face ; Her ev'rie look reveal 'd a charme, Her ev'rie ftep a grace. " Immortal love ! thou gentile power! 5 '' She fayde, u whome I adore, " Let me an ever verdant wreathe " Bear to the Stygian more. " To thee are Helen's merits knowne, " Her crymes, and her difgrace, " The mifchiefs caus'd in tymes of yore " By her enchanting face. 11 There was a tyme when I believ'd '* All nature honour'd me, " That ev'rie Knyghte to Helen's charmes " Defir'd to bend hys knee. [ 220 ] " I faw the Lacedemon dames " With envye view'd my forme* " And that the frozen hartes of age " For me agayne grewe warme. " No jealous fears difturb'd my reft, " My conqueft was fupreme : " The old-; the young, my charmes ador'd, " And Helen was their theme. " For me I thoughte the blufhing rofe " Bloom 'd bryghter on the tree, " And that eche herb at my approache, " DifFus'd more fragjrauncy. " Forme, I thoughte the jocund byrds " More blyhte their carols fang : " I knew throughout the Grecian dates " My peerlefTe prayfes rang. " Thus vanitie pofl'efs'd my fonle, " And flatterie prov'd my bane ; " Devoyde of thefe, perhaps the youth " I lov'd, had fu'd in vaine. " Alas! I broke my nuptial vow, " For Priam's blooming fon ; u By vanirie and Iawk-fs love " Too calily undone. " Yet, by my ruine, God of love ! " Thy triumph was difplay'd, 14 And Menelaiis' guiltie wife " The fource of war was made. C 221 ] *' Therein my confequence was fliewne, " My fatal power was prov'd, — ** The Grecians had not conquer 'd Troy " If Helen had not lov'd. " Votary profefs'd, to thee I bow ; " I fure deferve thy care — " And in returne for fervice part, " The myrtle crowne ihou'd weare." She fayde — when Cleopatra came In regal garments dreft, With perfeite beautie on her face, The afp upon her breafle. Her fmyles were fafhion'd to enfnarc The moll prudential harte — Her looks, her geftures, fhe improv'd, By all the wiles of arte. A thoufande forms fhe cou'd aHume, To win the wife, the brave ; She now an haughtye EmprelTe moves, And now an abjeel (lave. On Her infatuation waites — Ev'n at the Stygian ftreame, She glories in her life and deethe, And Anthony's her theme. To pra£tife all her fubtle artes She haftens to the fhrine ; But feing Constancie, retires, Aw'd by the power divine. [ 222 ] Behind her> with the voyce of wo A meagre {hade complain 'd : A dagger and a bloodye veil Her tremblinge hande contain'd. For Pyramus, her love ! (he wail'd. Half frantic with djftrene ; And on her bofome fhew'd a wounde, The mark of love's excefs. A melancholie figure next Came glidinge thro' the gloome, Who dy'd the vidtim of difpayre, In youth and beauty's bloome. A lampe, extinguish 'd, in her hande She bore, in folemn guife, And as me mov'd, addreft it thus. While teeres bedew'd her eyes. " Oil lamp accurs'd ! oh cruel caufe " Of my Leander's fate ! " Thou who wert once my comforter, '* I now mull execrate. " Mofl treacherous fervant ! tell me, pray, " What had Leander done, " That thou fhou'dft ceafe to feed thy flame, " When mofte it fliou'd have fhone ? " And wherefore did the winged houres " Which broughte him to the fea, " Produce the morn for me to vie we " His dolorous deftinief [ 22 3 1 " My foul, with dire prefages fill'd, " Obfcrv'd the riling ltormc — " In vain I call'd to everie power " To guatd my love from harme, " The Lemnian more return 'd my moan, " Abydos heard the founde, <* Yet neither God nor Triton ftirr'd, " Tho' my Leander drown'd. fi Aurora rifing from die eafte, " The woful picture fhew'd, " And faw me, to rejoine my love, " Leap in the raging floode." She faid — when lo ! a magic founde, With tuneful numbers fill'd, Was wafted on a Zephys winge, And Sappho flood reveal'd. Bright Phoebus, from Parnaflas' heigth, Applauded Sappho's name : On Cupid's altar incenfe burnt, In honour of the dame. But (tho' the Nine her layes approv'd^) She mourn 'd, and ponder'd ftill ; One haade a golden lyre difplay'd, The other helde a quill. And oft fhe paus'd, infpir'd by love Her forrowes to proclayme, And often breath'd in poefie The itorie of her flame. [ 224 ] The Mufes, who her labours blefte, Her deftinie deplore, And niourne the hour when Sappho fled To the Leucadian fhore. With difmal grones behinde the fane A palid figure ftoode, And bore within an ivorie vafe, A harte embru'd in blude. " Oh God of love ! fhe loudly cry'd, " To me adjudge the prize ! " The haplefTe Sigismunda's clayme " Thou wilt not fure difpife. " Within this ivorie vafe I beare " My Guiscard's faithful harte, " Which ow ? d misfortune, griefe, and pain, " To thy pernicious darte. " He was afFe£tionate and good, " His manners full of grace, " The gentle tenor of his foule " Was pi£lur'd on his face. " The Culver, faithful to its mate, " With him cou'd not compayre : " To Sigifmunda ever trewe, " He fcorn'd each other faire. u Poore in the gifts that Fortune fends, " He mov'd in lovvlie fphere, — " But Sigifmunda mark'd his worthe, " And met his love fmcere. [ 225 3 " Yes ! I forgot illuftrious birthe, " Difgrac'd my royal name — " I ftoop'd to an ignoble choice, " And facrific'd my fame. '* Had he Seene born to high eftate, " Then many a haughtie fayre, " Had kifs'd the velvet of his cheeke, " And comb'd his filken haire. " No wealthe, no honours he requir'd, " To make him deare to me ; " Love join'd our hearts — but tyrant pride " Y wrought our tragedie." She ended, juft as Dido came, Withe cyprefs in her hande, The boughs of which, in frantic mood, She fcatter'd o'er the lande. And eke (he fliew'd her bleedinge fyde, And with a piercing cry Deplor'd Eneas' fatal charmes, And curs'd his perfidie. Behynde a gentle figure came, Withe flowe and tranquil pace, And, loth her errand to proclayme, A veil conceal'd her face. Her hands were bounde with Cupid's chayne, Which ofte to breake fhe ftrove, And fadly figh'd beneethe the pangs Of her unlawful love. Vol. I. [ 226 ] Her name has frequentlie beene heard Near Vanclufe fllver ftreame, Her cruellie, and peerleffe charmes, Have beene the poet's theme. Her name has often been infcrib'd On trees that are no more, xAnd Laura was the onlie fayre Whom Petrarch cou'd adore. Rare inftance of trewe conftancie The Bard of Florence prov'd ; Yet cou'd not all his eloquence Subdue the fayre he lov'd. A fenfe of honour check'd her flame ; ■ But while file feem'd fevere, Cupid in fecret was his friend, And render'd Petrarch dear. She pafs'd, with Charlotte by her fide Companion of her wo, Doom'd by fimilitude of fate The force of love to know. Sad Eloifa then appeer'd — With trembling fteps fhe came, In fable veftal garb array 'd, And blufhing oft for fhame. As nearer to the fane fhe drew, Her energie return 'd, The name of Abelard fhe breath 'd And thus to Cupid mourn 'd : [ 227 ] " Of everie fcience that has e'er " Beene taught a lover yet, <( Mod difficult is furely that, " Which bids us to forget. A juft and hafty fentence I demand, And afk no mercy from a brother's hand : Let mc be fpar'd from terrible fufpence, And take mv life to expiate my offence. Oi r ended honour points unto the grave, The befl retreat a wretch like me can have. Come, Claudio! you will find Elvira here — I lay my bofom to thy poniard bare, And from the deadly wound life's crimfon tide Will foon appeafe your much-offended pride. Yes ! like a lamb beneath the murderer's knife, With patience I fhall yield* my forfeit life, And while I fink unto the fhades below, Will kifs the hand that gives the welcome blow. But No ! — this tragic deed will ne'er be done — Fate there is kind, and makes the work its own ; Nothing remains for vengeance to perform, For weaken 'd Nature faves me from the ftorm. Yet, in this dang'rous, awful, fleeting hour, (When to abjure thofe errors I deplore, I [ 284 j Shou'd be my talk,) why do I thus delay With pious fervor to confefs aud pray ? I fhou'd expel this paffion from my bread, Where it too long has been a favour'd gueft ; But whilft I tremble at my fins, I feel The force of love, and am a rebel ftill ; Drooping, expiring, I that love retain, And reafon's arguments are heard in vain, The victor love maintains his lawlefs throne, Inflicts the fharpeft wound, and claims the deepeft groan. Ah ! may my ftory an example give — From thence a lellbn let my fex receive ; Hither, ye gay coquettes ! ye beauties, come ! Vain of your conquefts and your tranfuent bloom ! Behold me thus ! — take warning by my fate ! Avoid the horrors of my prefent ftate. My own mifconduft brings me to the grave, And guilt condemns what youth perhaps might fave ; Even as I write, I feel my ftrength decay, My trembling hand can fcarce my heart obey : Thefe eyes whofe luftre has been oft admir'd, No more with love's expreffion are infpir'd ; Languid and dim, their feeble orbs they roll, And vainly fearch the idol of my foul ; My ebbing pulfe more flowly feems to beat, And death to ev'ry paflion founds retreat j Fever itfelf, that burning foe, retires, No more torments me with devouring fires > A heavy calm now dwells in ev'ry vein, And deadly langour takes the place of pain : Behold, expiring in the bloom of youth, A woman lull to honour, virtue, truth, [ 285 ] Whofe heart in this tremendous moment turns To him, whofe charms fo fatally (lie mourns. This is thy work, imperious love ! whofe fway Makes youth and fenfibility fhy prey, Rends me from all the bleffings life cou'd give, And blafts the wreath immortal fame might weave. On my fad tomb no record muft appear, Silence will wear the beft expreffion there — To long Oblivion be my name confign'd, And all my errors in the grave confin'd ; So mall no cheek for me be ting'd with fhame, So mail no rigid cenfor curfe my name. The laft decifive hour of fate is come ! — Aerial forms invite me to the tomb. I feel the approach of death in ev'ry part — ■ Cold freezing terror creeps into my heart : Yet, (as the wafting taper drives to blaze,) My quiv'ring foul to take its flight delays, Spreads o'er the lamp of life a tranfient ray, And knows not how the laft adieu to fay. But oh ! the fatal word mud be expreft — ; The word which ftrikes a poniard in my bread ! Farewell, dear youth! to part from whom I grieve- Tho' I mud die, do thou with patience live, Ceafe to lament the rigour of my fate, For Heaven fhews mercy to th' unfortunate : On that extenfive mercy I rely, And, wearv of mv'woes- — contented die. [ 286 ] EPITAPH, WlTHIN this tomb Elvira lies — Death's hand has clos'd her radiant eyes ; 'Twas love deftroy'd her vernal bloom, 'Twas love that fent her to the tomb. Dumb are thofe lips whence mufic flow'd, Pale are thofe cheeks where rofes glow'd, Loft are thofe fmiles that deck'd her face, And cold thofe limbs that mov'd with grace. Her tender heart no more can beat, Her veins have loft their vital heat, Beauty is turn'd to fenfelcfs clay, And love itfelf is fled away. But let us ceafe her fate to mourn, Her griefs are buried in the urn — No more to hopelefs love a Have, She finds repofe within the grave. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. SOUTHERNrpSa / Canforn 'a APt