Poems, moral and descriptive By the late Richard Jago ... (Prepared for the press, and improved by the author, before his death.) To which is added, some account of the life and writings of Mr. Jago |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. |
|
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| III. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| IV. |
|
 | Poems, moral and descriptive |  |
157
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
159
ARDENNA.
A PASTORAL-ECLOGUE. To A LADY.
Damon, and Lycidas.When o'er the Western world fair Science spread
Her genial ray, and Gothic darkness fled,
To Britain's Isle the Muses took their way,
And taught her list'ning groves the tuneful lay.
'Twas then two Swains the Doric reed essay'd
To sing the praises of a peerless maid.
On Arden's blissful plain her seat she chose,
And hence her rural name Ardenna rose.
160
Thus Damon sang, and Lycidas replied.
Damon.
Here, gentle Swain, beneath the shade reclin'd,
Remit thy labours, and unbend thy mind.
Well with the shepherd's state our cares agree,
For Nature prompts to pleasing industry.
'Tis this to all her gifts fresh beauty yields,
Health to our flocks, and plenty to our fields.
Yet hath she not impos'd unceasing toil,
Not restless plowshares always vex the soil.
Then, Shepherd, take the blessings Heav'n bestows,
Assist the song, and sweeten our repose.
Lycidas.
While others, sunk in sleep, or live in vain,
Or, slaves of indolence, but wake to pain,
Me let the call of earliest birds invite
To hail th'approaches of returning light;
To taste the freshness of the chearful morn,
While glist'ring dew-drops hang on ev'ry thorn.
161
Health to the blood, and vigour to the mind.
Hence ev'ry task its meet attendance gains,
And leisure hence to listen to thy strains.
Damon.
Thrice happy swain, so fitly form'd to share
The shepherd's labour, and Ardenna's care!
To tell Ardenna's praise the rural train
Inscribe the verse, or chant it o'er the plain.
Plains, hills, and woods return the well-known sound,
And the smooth beech records the sportive wound.
Then, Lycidas, let us the chorus join,
So bright a theme our music shall refine.
The shepherd's labour, and Ardenna's care!
To tell Ardenna's praise the rural train
Inscribe the verse, or chant it o'er the plain.
Plains, hills, and woods return the well-known sound,
And the smooth beech records the sportive wound.
Then, Lycidas, let us the chorus join,
So bright a theme our music shall refine.
Escap'd from all the busy world admires,
Hither the philosophic dame retires;
For in the busy world, or poets feign,
Intemp'rate vice, and giddy pleasures reign;
Then, when from crowds the Loves, and Graces flew,
To these lone shades the beauteous maid withdrew,
To study Nature in this calm retreat,
And with confed'rate Art her charms compleat.
How sweet their union is, ye shepherds, say,
And thou who form'dst the reed inspire my lay.
Hither the philosophic dame retires;
For in the busy world, or poets feign,
Intemp'rate vice, and giddy pleasures reign;
Then, when from crowds the Loves, and Graces flew,
To these lone shades the beauteous maid withdrew,
To study Nature in this calm retreat,
And with confed'rate Art her charms compleat.
162
And thou who form'dst the reed inspire my lay.
Her praise I sing by whom our flocks are freed
From the rough bramble, and envenom'd weed;
Who to green pastures turns the dreary waste,
With scatter'd woods in careless beauty grac'd.
From the rough bramble, and envenom'd weed;
Who to green pastures turns the dreary waste,
With scatter'd woods in careless beauty grac'd.
'Tis she, Ardenna! Guardian of the scene,
Who bids the mount to swell, who smooths the green,
Who drains the marsh, and frees the struggling flood
From its divided rule, and strife with mud.
She winds its course the copious stream to shew,
And she in swifter currents bids it flow;
Now smoothly gliding with an even pace,
Now dimpling o'er the stones with roughen'd grace:
With glassy surface now serenely bright,
Now foaming from the rock all silver white.
Who bids the mount to swell, who smooths the green,
Who drains the marsh, and frees the struggling flood
From its divided rule, and strife with mud.
She winds its course the copious stream to shew,
And she in swifter currents bids it flow;
Now smoothly gliding with an even pace,
Now dimpling o'er the stones with roughen'd grace:
With glassy surface now serenely bright,
Now foaming from the rock all silver white.
'Tis she the rising bank with beeches crowns,
Now spreads the scene, and now contracts its bounds.
Cloaths the bleak hill with verdure ever gay,
And bids our feet thro' myrtle-valleys stray.
She for her shepherds rears the rooty shed,
The checquer'd pavement, and the straw-wove bed.
For them she scoops the grotto's cool retreat,
From storms a shelter, and a shade in heat.
Directs their hands the verdant arch to bend,
And with the leafy roof its gloom extend.
Shells, flint, and ore their mingled graces join,
And rocky fragments aid the chaste design.
Now spreads the scene, and now contracts its bounds.
Cloaths the bleak hill with verdure ever gay,
And bids our feet thro' myrtle-valleys stray.
She for her shepherds rears the rooty shed,
The checquer'd pavement, and the straw-wove bed.
163
From storms a shelter, and a shade in heat.
Directs their hands the verdant arch to bend,
And with the leafy roof its gloom extend.
Shells, flint, and ore their mingled graces join,
And rocky fragments aid the chaste design.
Lycidas.
Hail happy lawns! where'er we turn our eyes,
Fresh beauties bloom, and opening wonders rise.
Whileome these charming scenes with grief I view'd
A barren waste, a dreary solitude!
My drooping flocks their russet pastures mourn'd,
And lowing herds the plaintive moan return'd.
With weary feet from field to field they stray'd,
Nor found their hunger's painful sense allay'd.
But now no more a dreary scene appears,
No more its prickly boughs the bramble rears,
No more my flocks lament th'unfruitful soil,
Nor mourn their ragged fleece, or fruitless toil.
164
As this fair lawn excels the rushy mead,
As firs the thorn, and flow'rs the pois'nous weed,
Far as the warbling sky-larks soar on high,
Above the clumsy bat, or buzzing fly;
So matchless moves Ardenna o'er the green,
In mind alike excelling as in mien.
Lycidas.
Sweet is the fragrance of the damask rose,
And bright the dye that on its surface glows,
Fair is the poplar rising on the plain,
Of shapely trunk, and lofty branches vain;
But neither sweet the rose, nor bright its dye,
Nor poplar fair, if with her charms they vie.
Damon.
Grateful is sunshine to the sportive lambs,
The balmy dews delight the nibbling dams;
But kindlier warmth Ardenna's smiles impart,
A balm more rich her lessons to the heart.
165
No more Pomona's guiding hand we need,
Nor Flora's help to paint th'enamell'd mead,
Nor Ceres' care to guard the rising grain,
And spread the yellow plenty o'er the plain;
Ardenna's precepts ev'ry want supply,
The grateful lay what shepherd can deny?
Damon.
A theme so pleasing, with the day begun,
Too soon were ended with the setting sun.
But see o'er yonder hill the parting ray,
And hark! our bleating flocks reprove our stay.
166
The SCAVENGERS.
A TOWN-ECLOGUE.
“Dulcis odor lucri ox re quâlibet.”
Awake, my Muse, prepare a loftier theme.
The winding valley, and the dimpled stream
Delight not all: quit, quit the verdant field,
And try what dusty streets, and alleys yield.
The winding valley, and the dimpled stream
Delight not all: quit, quit the verdant field,
And try what dusty streets, and alleys yield.
Where Avon wider flows, and gathers fame,
Stands a fair town, and Warwick is its name.
For useful arts entitled once to share
The gentle Ethelfleda's guardian care.
Nor less for deeds of chivalry renown'd,
When her own Guy was with her laurels crown'd.
Now Syren Sloth holds here her tranquil reign,
And binds in silken bonds the feeble train.
No frowning knights in uncouth armour lac'd,
Seek now for monsters on the dreary waste:
In these soft scenes they chace a gentler prey,
No monsters! but as dangerous as they.
In diff'rent forms as sure destruction lies,
They have no claws 'tis true—but they have eyes.
Stands a fair town, and Warwick is its name.
For useful arts entitled once to share
The gentle Ethelfleda's guardian care.
Nor less for deeds of chivalry renown'd,
When her own Guy was with her laurels crown'd.
Now Syren Sloth holds here her tranquil reign,
And binds in silken bonds the feeble train.
No frowning knights in uncouth armour lac'd,
Seek now for monsters on the dreary waste:
In these soft scenes they chace a gentler prey,
No monsters! but as dangerous as they.
167
They have no claws 'tis true—but they have eyes.
Last of the toiling race there liv'd a pair,
Bred up in labour, and inur'd to care!
To sweep the streets their task from sun to sun,
And seek the nastiness which others shun.
More plodding wight, or dame you ne'er shall see,
He Gaffer Pestel hight, and Gammer she.
Bred up in labour, and inur'd to care!
To sweep the streets their task from sun to sun,
And seek the nastiness which others shun.
More plodding wight, or dame you ne'er shall see,
He Gaffer Pestel hight, and Gammer she.
As at their door they sate one summer's day,
Old Pestel first essay'd the plaintive lay:
His gentle mate the plaintive lay return'd,
And thus alternately their cares they mourn'd.
Old Pestel.
Old Pestel first essay'd the plaintive lay:
His gentle mate the plaintive lay return'd,
And thus alternately their cares they mourn'd.
Alas! was ever such fine weather seen,
How dusty are the roads, the streets how clean!
How long, ye Almanacks! will it be dry?
Empty my cart how long, and idle I!
Ev'n at the best the times are not so good,
But 'tis hard work to scrape a livelihood.
The cattle in the stalls resign their life,
And baulk the shambles, and th'unbloody knife.
168
And turnpikes threaten to compleat my doom.
Wife.
Well! for the turnpike that will do no hurt,
Some say the managers are friends to dirt.
But much I fear this murrain where 'twill end,
For sure the cattle did our door befriend.
Oft have I hail'd 'em, as they stalk'd along,
Their fat the butchers pleas'd, but me their dung.
Old Pestel.
See what a little dab of dirt is here!
But yields all Warwick more, O tell me where?
Yet, on this spot, tho' now so naked seen,
Heaps upon heaps, and loads on loads have been.
Bigger, and bigger, the proud dunghill grew,
Till my diminish'd house was hid from view.
Wife.
Ah! Gaffer Pestel, what brave days were those,
When higher than our house our muckhill rose!
169
And mark'd what each load added to its size.
Wrapt in its fragrant steam we often sate,
And to its praises held delightful chat.
Nor did I e'er neglect my mite to pay,
To swell the goodly heap from day to day.
A cabbage once I bought; but small the cost—
Nor do I think the farthing all was lost.
Again you sold its well-digested store,
To dung the garden where it grew before.
Old Pestel.
What tho' the beaus, and powder'd coxcombs jeer'd,
And at the scavenger's employment sneer'd,
Yet then at night content I told my gains,
And thought well paid their malice, and my pains.
Why toils the tradesman, but to swell his store?
Why craves the wealthy landlord still for more?
Why will our gentry flatter, fawn, and lie?
Why pack the cards, and what d'ye call't—the die?
All, all the pleasing paths of gain pursue,
And wade thro' thick, and thin, as we folks do.
170
And nothing dirty which good int'rest brings.
Wife.
When goody Dobbins call'd me nasty bear,
And talk'd of kennels, and the ducking-chair,
With patience I cou'd hear the scolding quean,
For sure 'twas dirtiness that kept me clean.
Clean was my gown on Sundays, if not fine,
Nor Mrs. ---'s cap so white as mine.
A slut in silk, or kersey is the same,
Nor sweetest always is the finest dame.
And talk'd of kennels, and the ducking-chair,
With patience I cou'd hear the scolding quean,
For sure 'twas dirtiness that kept me clean.
Clean was my gown on Sundays, if not fine,
Nor Mrs. ---'s cap so white as mine.
A slut in silk, or kersey is the same,
Nor sweetest always is the finest dame.
Thus wail'd they pleasure past, and present cares,
While the starv'd hog join'd his complaint with theirs.
To still his grunting diff'rent ways they tend,
To West-Street he, and she to Cotton-End.
While the starv'd hog join'd his complaint with theirs.
To still his grunting diff'rent ways they tend,
To West-Street he, and she to Cotton-End.
171
ABSENCE.
With leaden foot Time creeps along
While Delia is away,
With her, nor plaintive was the song,
Nor tedious was the day.
While Delia is away,
With her, nor plaintive was the song,
Nor tedious was the day.
Ah! envious pow'r! reverse my doom,
Now double thy career,
Strain ev'ry nerve, stretch ev'ry plume,
And rest them when she's here.
Now double thy career,
Strain ev'ry nerve, stretch ev'ry plume,
And rest them when she's here.
To a LADY.
When Nature joins a beauteous face
With shape, and air, and life, and grace,
To ev'ry imperfection blind,
I spy no blemish in the mind.
When wit flows pure from Stella's tongue,
Or animates the sprightly song,
Our hearts confess the pow'r divine,
Nor lightly prize its mortal shrine.
With shape, and air, and life, and grace,
To ev'ry imperfection blind,
I spy no blemish in the mind.
172
Or animates the sprightly song,
Our hearts confess the pow'r divine,
Nor lightly prize its mortal shrine.
Good-nature will a conquest gain,
Tho' wit, and beauty sigh in vain.
Tho' wit, and beauty sigh in vain.
When gen'rous thoughts the breast inspire,
I wish its rank, and fortunes higher.
I wish its rank, and fortunes higher.
When Sidney's charms again unite
To win the soul, and bless the sight,
Fair, and learn'd, and good, and great!
An earthly goddess is compleat.
To win the soul, and bless the sight,
Fair, and learn'd, and good, and great!
An earthly goddess is compleat.
But when I see a sordid mind
With affluence, and ill-nature join'd,
And pride without a grain of sense,
And without beauty insolence,
The creature with contempt I view,
And sure 'tis like Miss—you know who.
With affluence, and ill-nature join'd,
And pride without a grain of sense,
And without beauty insolence,
The creature with contempt I view,
And sure 'tis like Miss—you know who.
173
To a LADY working a Pair of RUFFLES.
What means this useless cost, this wanton pride?
To purchase fopp'ry from yon' foreign strand!
To spurn our native stores, and arts aside,
And drain the riches of a needy land!
To purchase fopp'ry from yon' foreign strand!
To spurn our native stores, and arts aside,
And drain the riches of a needy land!
Pleas'd I survey, fair nymph, your happy skill,
Yet view it by no vulgar critic's laws:
With nobler aim I draw my sober quill,
Anxious to list each art in Virtue's cause.
Yet view it by no vulgar critic's laws:
With nobler aim I draw my sober quill,
Anxious to list each art in Virtue's cause.
Go on, dear maid, your utmost pow'r essay,
And if for fame your little bosom heave,
Know patriot-hands your merit shall display,
And amply pay the graces they receive.
And if for fame your little bosom heave,
Know patriot-hands your merit shall display,
And amply pay the graces they receive.
Let ev'ry nymph like you the gift prepare,
And banish foreign pomp, and costly show;
What lover but wou'd burn the prize to wear,
Or blush by you pronounc'd his country's foe?
And banish foreign pomp, and costly show;
What lover but wou'd burn the prize to wear,
Or blush by you pronounc'd his country's foe?
174
Your smiles can win when patriot-speeches fail,
Your frowns controul when justice threats in vain,
O'er stubborn minds your softness can prevail,
And placemen drop the bribe if you complain.
Your frowns controul when justice threats in vain,
O'er stubborn minds your softness can prevail,
And placemen drop the bribe if you complain.
Then rise the guardians of your country's fame,
Or wherefore were ye form'd like angels fair?
By beauty's force our venal hearts reclaim,
And save the drooping Virtues from despair.
Or wherefore were ye form'd like angels fair?
By beauty's force our venal hearts reclaim,
And save the drooping Virtues from despair.
FEMALE EMPIRE.
A TRUE HISTORY.
Like Bruin's was Avaro's breast,
No softness harbour'd there;
While Sylvio some concern express'd,
When beauty shed a tear.
No softness harbour'd there;
While Sylvio some concern express'd,
When beauty shed a tear.
In Hymen's bands they both were tied,
As Cupid's archives shew ye;
Proud Celia was Avaro's bride,
And Sylvio's gentle Chloe.
As Cupid's archives shew ye;
Proud Celia was Avaro's bride,
And Sylvio's gentle Chloe.
175
Like other nymphs, at church they swore,
To honour, and obey,
Which, with each learned nymph before,
They soon explain'd away.
To honour, and obey,
Which, with each learned nymph before,
They soon explain'd away.
If Chloe now wou'd have her will,
Her streaming eyes prevail'd,
Or if her swain prov'd cruel still,
Hysterics never fail'd.
Her streaming eyes prevail'd,
Or if her swain prov'd cruel still,
Hysterics never fail'd.
But Celia scorn'd the plaintive moan,
And heart-dissolving show'r;
With flashing eye, and angry tone,
She best maintain'd her pow'r.
And heart-dissolving show'r;
With flashing eye, and angry tone,
She best maintain'd her pow'r.
Yet once the mandates of his Turk
Avaro durst refuse;
For why? important was his work,
“To register old shoes!”
Avaro durst refuse;
For why? important was his work,
“To register old shoes!”
And does, said she, the wretch dispute
My claim such clowns to rule?
If Celia cannot charm a brute,
She can chastise a fool.
My claim such clowns to rule?
If Celia cannot charm a brute,
She can chastise a fool.
176
Then strait she to his closet flew,
His private thoughts she tore,
And from its place the poker drew,
That fell'd him on the floor.
His private thoughts she tore,
And from its place the poker drew,
That fell'd him on the floor.
Henceforth, said she, my calls regard,
Own mine the stronger plea,
Nor let thy vulgar cares retard
The female rites of tea.
Own mine the stronger plea,
Nor let thy vulgar cares retard
The female rites of tea.
Victorious sex! alike your art,
And puissance we dread;
For if you cannot break our heart,
'Tis plain you'll break our head.
And puissance we dread;
For if you cannot break our heart,
'Tis plain you'll break our head.
Place me, ye Gods, beneath the throne
Which gentle smiles environ,
And I'll submission gladly own,
Without a rod of iron.
Which gentle smiles environ,
And I'll submission gladly own,
Without a rod of iron.
177
On Mr. Samuel Cooke's POEMS.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1749.
Indeed, Master Cooke!
You have made such a book,
As the learned in pastry admire:
But other wits joke
To see such a smoke
Without any visible fire.
You have made such a book,
As the learned in pastry admire:
But other wits joke
To see such a smoke
Without any visible fire.
What a nice bill of fare,
Of whatever is rare,
And approv'd by the critics of taste!
Not a classical bit,
Ev'ry fancy to hit,
But here in due order is plac'd.
Of whatever is rare,
And approv'd by the critics of taste!
Not a classical bit,
Ev'ry fancy to hit,
But here in due order is plac'd.
178
Yet, for all this parade,
You are but a dull blade,
And your lines are all scragged, and raw;
And tho' you've hack'd, and have hew'd,
And have squeez'd, and have stew'd,
Your forc'd-meat isn't all worth a straw.
You are but a dull blade,
And your lines are all scragged, and raw;
And tho' you've hack'd, and have hew'd,
And have squeez'd, and have stew'd,
Your forc'd-meat isn't all worth a straw.
Tho' your satire you spit,
'Tisn't season'd a bit,
And your puffs are as heavy as lead;
Call each dish what you will,
Boil, roast, hash, or grill,
Yet still it is all a calve's-head.
'Tisn't season'd a bit,
And your puffs are as heavy as lead;
Call each dish what you will,
Boil, roast, hash, or grill,
Yet still it is all a calve's-head.
I don't mind your huffing,
For you've put such vile stuff in,
I protest I'm as sick as a dog;
Were you leaner, or fatter,
I'd not mince the matter,
You're not fit to dress Æsop a frog.
For you've put such vile stuff in,
I protest I'm as sick as a dog;
Were you leaner, or fatter,
I'd not mince the matter,
You're not fit to dress Æsop a frog.
179
Then, good master Slice!
Shut up shop, if your wise,
And th'unwary no longer trepan;
Such advice indeed is hard,
And may stick in your gizzard,
But digest it as well as you can.
Shut up shop, if your wise,
And th'unwary no longer trepan;
Such advice indeed is hard,
And may stick in your gizzard,
But digest it as well as you can.
The MISTAKE.
ON CAPTAIN BLUFF. 1750.
Says a Gosling, almost frighten'd out of her wits,Help mother, or else I shall go into fits.
I have had such a fright, I shall never recover,
O! that Hawke, that you've told us of over and over.
See, there, where he sits, with his terrible face,
And his coat how it glitters all over with lace.
With his sharp hooked nose, and his sword at his heel,
How my heart it goes pit-a-pat, pray, mother, feel.
180
Those looks are as harmless as mine are, my child.
And as for his sword there, so bright, and so nice,
I'll be sworn 'twill hurt nothing besides frogs, and mice.
Nay, prithee don't hang so about me, let loose,
I tell thee he dares not say—bo to a Goose.
In short there is not a more innocent fowl,
Why, instead of a Hawke, look ye, child, 'tis an Owl.
To a LADY, with a basket of fruit.
Once of forbidden fruit the mortal tasteChang'd beauteous Eden to a dreary waste.
Here you may freely eat, secure the while
From latent poison, or insidious guile.
Yet O! cou'd I but happily infuse
Some secret charm into the sav'ry juice,
Of pow'r to tempt your gentle breast to share
With me the peaceful cot, and rural fare:
A diff'rent fate shou'd crown the blest device,
And change my Desart to a Paradise.
181
PEYTOE's GHOST.
To Craven's health, and social joy,
The festive night was kept,
While mirth and patriot spirit flow'd,
And Dullness only slept.
The festive night was kept,
While mirth and patriot spirit flow'd,
And Dullness only slept.
When from the jovial crowd I stole,
And homeward shap'd my way;
And pass'd along by Chesterton,
All at the close of day.
And homeward shap'd my way;
And pass'd along by Chesterton,
All at the close of day.
The sky with clouds was over-cast:
An hollow tempest blow'd,
And rains and foaming cataracts
Had delug'd all the road.
An hollow tempest blow'd,
And rains and foaming cataracts
Had delug'd all the road.
When thro' the dark and lonesome shade,
Shone forth a sudden light;
And soon distinct an human form,
Engag'd my wondering sight.
Shone forth a sudden light;
And soon distinct an human form,
Engag'd my wondering sight.
182
Onward it mov'd with graceful port,
And soon o'ertook my speed;
Then thrice I lifted up my hands,
And thrice I check'd my steed.
And soon o'ertook my speed;
Then thrice I lifted up my hands,
And thrice I check'd my steed.
Who art thou, passenger, it cry'd,
From yonder mirth retir'd?
That here pursu'st thy cheerless way,
Benighted, and be-mir'd.
From yonder mirth retir'd?
That here pursu'st thy cheerless way,
Benighted, and be-mir'd.
I am, said I, a country clerk,
A clerk of low degree,
And yonder gay and gallant scene,
Suits not a curacy.
A clerk of low degree,
And yonder gay and gallant scene,
Suits not a curacy.
But I have seen such sights to-day,
As make my heart full glad,
Altho' it is but dark, 'tis true,
And eke—my road is bad.
As make my heart full glad,
Altho' it is but dark, 'tis true,
And eke—my road is bad.
For I have seen lords, knights, and squires,
Of great and high renown,
To chuse a knight for this fair shire,
All met at Warwick Town.
Of great and high renown,
To chuse a knight for this fair shire,
All met at Warwick Town.
183
A wight of skill to ken our laws,
Of courage to defend,
Of worth to serve the public cause,
Before a private end.
Of courage to defend,
Of worth to serve the public cause,
Before a private end.
And such they found, if right I guess—
Of gentle blood he came;
Of morals firm, of manners mild,
And Craven is his name.
Of gentle blood he came;
Of morals firm, of manners mild,
And Craven is his name.
Did half the British tribunes share
Experienc'd Mordaunt's truth,
Another half, like Craven, boast
A free unbiass'd youth:
Experienc'd Mordaunt's truth,
Another half, like Craven, boast
A free unbiass'd youth:
The sun I trow, in all his race,
No happier realm should find;
Nor Britons hope for aught in vain,
From warmth with prudence join'd.
No happier realm should find;
Nor Britons hope for aught in vain,
From warmth with prudence join'd.
184
“Go on, my Country, favour'd soil,
Such Patriots to produce!
Go on, my Countrymen, he cry'd,
Such Patriots still to chuse.”
Such Patriots to produce!
Go on, my Countrymen, he cry'd,
Such Patriots still to chuse.”
This said, the placid form retir'd,
Behind the veil of night;
Yet bade me, for my Country's good,
The solemn tale recite.
Behind the veil of night;
Yet bade me, for my Country's good,
The solemn tale recite.
To a LADY, Furnishing her LIBRARY, at ---, in Warwickshire.
When just proportion in each part,
And colours mixt with nicest art,
Conspire to shew the grace and mien
Of Cloe, or the Cyprian Queen:
With elegance throughout refin'd,
That speaks the passions of the mind,
The glowing canvas will proclaim,
A Raphael's, or a Titian's name.
And colours mixt with nicest art,
Conspire to shew the grace and mien
Of Cloe, or the Cyprian Queen:
With elegance throughout refin'd,
That speaks the passions of the mind,
185
A Raphael's, or a Titian's name.
So where thro' ev'ry learned page,
Each distant clime, each distant age
Display a rich variety,
Of wisdom in epitome;
Such elegance and taste will tell
The hand, that could select so well.
But when we all their beauties view,
United and improv'd by You,
We needs must own an emblem faint,
T'express those charms no art can paint.
Books must, with such correctness writ,
Refine another's taste and wit;
'Tis to your merit only due,
That theirs can be refin'd by You.
Each distant clime, each distant age
Display a rich variety,
Of wisdom in epitome;
Such elegance and taste will tell
The hand, that could select so well.
But when we all their beauties view,
United and improv'd by You,
We needs must own an emblem faint,
T'express those charms no art can paint.
Books must, with such correctness writ,
Refine another's taste and wit;
'Tis to your merit only due,
That theirs can be refin'd by You.
186
To WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Esq. on receiving a gilt pocket-book. 1751.
These spotless leaves, this neat array,
Might well invite your charming quill,
In fair assemblage to display
The power of Learning, Wit, and Skill.
Might well invite your charming quill,
In fair assemblage to display
The power of Learning, Wit, and Skill.
But since you carelessly refuse,
And to my pen the task assign;
O! let your Genius guide my Muse,
And every vulgar thought refine.
And to my pen the task assign;
O! let your Genius guide my Muse,
And every vulgar thought refine.
Teach me your best, your best lov'd art,
With frugal care to store my mind;
In this to play the Miser's part,
And give mean lucre to the wind:
With frugal care to store my mind;
In this to play the Miser's part,
And give mean lucre to the wind:
To shun the Coxcomb's empty noise,
To scorn the Villain's artful mask;
Nor trust gay Pleasure's fleeting joys
Nor urge Ambition's endless task.
To scorn the Villain's artful mask;
Nor trust gay Pleasure's fleeting joys
Nor urge Ambition's endless task.
187
Teach me to stem Youth's boisterous tide,
To regulate its giddy rage;
By Reason's aid my barque to guide,
Into the friendly port of Age:
To regulate its giddy rage;
By Reason's aid my barque to guide,
Into the friendly port of Age:
To share what Classic Culture yields,
Thro' Rhetoric's painted meads to roam;
With you to reap historic fields,
And bring the golden Harvest home.
Thro' Rhetoric's painted meads to roam;
With you to reap historic fields,
And bring the golden Harvest home.
To taste the genuine sweets of Wit;
To quaff in Humour's sprightly bowl;
The philosophic mean to hit,
And prize the Dignity of Soul.
To quaff in Humour's sprightly bowl;
The philosophic mean to hit,
And prize the Dignity of Soul.
Teach me to read fair Nature's book,
Wide opening in each flow'ry plain;
And with judicious eye to look
On all the glories of her reign.
Wide opening in each flow'ry plain;
And with judicious eye to look
On all the glories of her reign.
To hail her, seated on her throne,
By aweful woods encompass'd round,
Or her divine extraction own,
Tho' with a wreath of rushes crown'd.
By aweful woods encompass'd round,
Or her divine extraction own,
Tho' with a wreath of rushes crown'd.
188
Thro' arched walks, o'er spreading lawns,
Near solemn rocks, with her to rove;
Or court her, 'mid her gentle fawns,
In mossy cell, or maple grove.
Near solemn rocks, with her to rove;
Or court her, 'mid her gentle fawns,
In mossy cell, or maple grove.
Whether the prospect strain the sight,
Or in the nearer landskips charm,
Where hills, vales, fountains, woods unite,
To grace your sweet Arcadian farm:
Or in the nearer landskips charm,
Where hills, vales, fountains, woods unite,
To grace your sweet Arcadian farm:
There let me sit, and gaze with you,
On Nature's works by Art refin'd;
And own, while we their contest view,
Both fair, but fairest, thus combin'd!
On Nature's works by Art refin'd;
And own, while we their contest view,
Both fair, but fairest, thus combin'd!
189
An ELEGY on MAN.
WRITTEN JANUARY 1752.
Behold Earth's Lord, imperial Man,
In ripen'd vigour gay;
His outward form attentive scan,
And all within survey.
In ripen'd vigour gay;
His outward form attentive scan,
And all within survey.
Behold his plans of future life,
His care, his hope, his love,
Relations dear of child, and wife,
The dome, the lawn, the grove.
His care, his hope, his love,
Relations dear of child, and wife,
The dome, the lawn, the grove.
Now see within his active mind,
More gen'rous passions share,
Friend, neighbour, country, all his kind,
By turns engage his care.
More gen'rous passions share,
Friend, neighbour, country, all his kind,
By turns engage his care.
Behold him range with curious eye,
O'er Earth from pole to pole,
And thro' th'illimitable sky
Explore with daring soul.
O'er Earth from pole to pole,
And thro' th'illimitable sky
Explore with daring soul.
190
Yet pass some twenty fleeting years,
And all his glory flies,
His languid eye is bath'd in tears,
He sickens, groans, and dies.
And all his glory flies,
His languid eye is bath'd in tears,
He sickens, groans, and dies.
And is this all his destin'd lot,
This all his boasted sway?
For ever now to be forgot,
Amid the mould'ring clay!
This all his boasted sway?
For ever now to be forgot,
Amid the mould'ring clay!
Ah gloomy thought! ah worse than death!
Life sickens at the sound;
Better it were not draw our breath,
Than run this empty round.
Life sickens at the sound;
Better it were not draw our breath,
Than run this empty round.
Hence, cheating Fancy, then, away
O let us better try,
By Reason's more enlighten'd ray,
What 'tis indeed to die.
O let us better try,
By Reason's more enlighten'd ray,
What 'tis indeed to die.
Observe yon mass of putrid earth,
It holds an embryo-brood,
Ev'n now the reptiles crawl to birth,
And seek their leafy food.
It holds an embryo-brood,
Ev'n now the reptiles crawl to birth,
And seek their leafy food.
191
Yet stay 'till some few suns are past,
Each forms a silken tomb,
And seems, like man, imprison'd fast,
To meet his final doom.
Each forms a silken tomb,
And seems, like man, imprison'd fast,
To meet his final doom.
Yet from this silent mansion too
Anon you see him rise,
No more a crawling worm to view,
But tenant of the skies.
Anon you see him rise,
No more a crawling worm to view,
But tenant of the skies.
And what forbids that man should share,
Some more auspicious day,
To range at large in open air,
As light and free as they?
Some more auspicious day,
To range at large in open air,
As light and free as they?
There was a time when life first warm'd
Our flesh in shades of night,
Then was th'imperfect substance form'd,
And sent to view this light.
Our flesh in shades of night,
Then was th'imperfect substance form'd,
And sent to view this light.
There was a time, when ev'ry sense
In straiter limits dwelt,
Yet each its task cou'd then dispense,
We saw, we heard, we felt.
In straiter limits dwelt,
Yet each its task cou'd then dispense,
We saw, we heard, we felt.
192
And times there are, when thro' the veins
The blood forgets to flow,
Yet then a living pow'r remains,
Tho' not in active show.
The blood forgets to flow,
Yet then a living pow'r remains,
Tho' not in active show.
Times too there be, when friendly Sleep's
Soft charms the Senses bind,
Yet Fancy then her vigils keeps,
And ranges unconfin'd.
Soft charms the Senses bind,
Yet Fancy then her vigils keeps,
And ranges unconfin'd.
And Reason holds her sep'rate sway,
Tho' all the Senses wake,
And forms in Mem'ry's storehouse play,
Of no material make.
Tho' all the Senses wake,
And forms in Mem'ry's storehouse play,
Of no material make.
What are these then, this eye, this ear,
But nicer organs found,
A glass to read, a trump to hear,
The modes of shape, or sound?
But nicer organs found,
A glass to read, a trump to hear,
The modes of shape, or sound?
And blows may maim, or time impair
These instruments of clay,
And Death may ravish what they spare,
Compleating their decay.
These instruments of clay,
And Death may ravish what they spare,
Compleating their decay.
193
But are these then that living Pow'r
That thinks, compares, and rules?
Then say a scaffold is a tow'r,
A workman is his tools.
That thinks, compares, and rules?
Then say a scaffold is a tow'r,
A workman is his tools.
For aught appears that Death can do,
That still survives his stroke,
Its workings plac'd beyond our view,
Its present commerce broke.
That still survives his stroke,
Its workings plac'd beyond our view,
Its present commerce broke.
But what connections it may find,
Boots much to hope, and fear,
And if Instruction courts the mind,
'Tis madness not to hear.
Boots much to hope, and fear,
And if Instruction courts the mind,
'Tis madness not to hear.
194
On receiving a little IVORY BOX from a lady, curiously wrought by her own hands.
Little Box of matchless grace!
Fairer than the fairest face,
Smooth as was her parent-hand,
That did thy wond'rous form command.
Spotless as her infant mind,
As her riper age refin'd,
Beauty with the Graces join'd.
Fairer than the fairest face,
Smooth as was her parent-hand,
That did thy wond'rous form command.
Spotless as her infant mind,
As her riper age refin'd,
Beauty with the Graces join'd.
Let me clothe the lovely stranger,
Let me lodge thee safe from danger.
Let me guard thy soft repose,
From giddy Fortune's random blows.
From thoughtless mirth, barbaric hate,
From the iron-hand of Fate,
And Oppression's deadly weight.
Let me lodge thee safe from danger.
Let me guard thy soft repose,
From giddy Fortune's random blows.
From thoughtless mirth, barbaric hate,
From the iron-hand of Fate,
And Oppression's deadly weight.
Thou art not of a sort, or number
Fashion'd for a Poet's lumber;
Tho' more capacious than his purse,
Too small to hold his store of verse.
Too delicate for homely toil,
Too neat for vulgar hands to soil.
Fashion'd for a Poet's lumber;
195
Too small to hold his store of verse.
Too delicate for homely toil,
Too neat for vulgar hands to soil.
O! wou'd the Fates permit the Muse,
Thy future destiny to chuse!
In thy circle's fairy round,
With a golden fillet bound:
Like the snow-drop silver white,
Like the glow-worm's humid light,
Like the dew at early dawn,
Like the moon-light on the lawn,
Lucid rows of pearls shou'd dwell,
Pleas'd as in their native shell;
Or the brilliant's sparkling rays,
Shou'd emit a starry blaze.
Thy future destiny to chuse!
In thy circle's fairy round,
With a golden fillet bound:
Like the snow-drop silver white,
Like the glow-worm's humid light,
Like the dew at early dawn,
Like the moon-light on the lawn,
Lucid rows of pearls shou'd dwell,
Pleas'd as in their native shell;
Or the brilliant's sparkling rays,
Shou'd emit a starry blaze.
And if the Fair whose magic skill,
Wrought thee passive to her will,
Deign to regard thy Poet's love,
Nor his aspiring suit reprove,
Her form should crown the fair design,
Goddess fit for such a shrine!
Wrought thee passive to her will,
Deign to regard thy Poet's love,
Nor his aspiring suit reprove,
Her form should crown the fair design,
Goddess fit for such a shrine!
196
VALENTINE's DAY.
The tuneful choir in amorous strains,
Accost their feather'd loves;
While each fond mate with equal pains,
The tender suit approves.
Accost their feather'd loves;
While each fond mate with equal pains,
The tender suit approves.
With chearful hop from spray to spray,
They sport along the meads;
In social bliss together stray,
Where love or fancy leads.
They sport along the meads;
In social bliss together stray,
Where love or fancy leads.
Thro' Spring's gay scenes each happy pair
Their fluttering joys pursue;
Its various charms and produce share,
For ever kind and true.
Their fluttering joys pursue;
Its various charms and produce share,
For ever kind and true.
Their sprightly notes from every shade,
Their mutual loves proclaim;
Till Winter's chilling blasts invade,
And damp th'enlivening flame.
Their mutual loves proclaim;
Till Winter's chilling blasts invade,
And damp th'enlivening flame.
197
Then all the jocund scene declines,
Nor woods nor meads delight;
The drooping tribe in secret pines,
And mourns th'unwelcome sight.
Nor woods nor meads delight;
The drooping tribe in secret pines,
And mourns th'unwelcome sight.
Go, blissful warblers! timely wise,
Th'instructive moral tell!
Nor thou their meaning lays despise,
My charming Annabelle!
Th'instructive moral tell!
Nor thou their meaning lays despise,
My charming Annabelle!
HAMLET's SOLILOQUY, IMITATED.
To print, or not to print—that is the question.Whether 'tis better in a trunk to bury
The quirks and crotchets of outrageous fancy,
Or send a well-wrote copy to the press,
And by disclosing, end them? To print, to doubt
No more; and by one act to say we end
The head-ach, and a thousand natural shocks
198
Devoutly to be wish'd. To print—to beam
From the same shelf with Pope, in calf well bound:
To sleep, perchance, with Quarles—Ay, there's the rub—
For to what class a writer may be doom'd,
When he hath shuffled off some paltry stuff,
Must give us pause.—There's the respect that makes
Th'unwilling poet keep his piece nine years.
For who wou'd bear th'impatient thirst of fame,
The pride of conscious merit, and 'bove all,
The tedious importunity of friends,
When as himself might his quietus make
With a bare inkhorn? Who would fardles bear?
To groan and sweat under a load of wit?
But that the tread of steep Parnassus' hill,
That undiscover'd country, with whose bays
Few travellers return, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear to live unknown,
Than run the hazard to be known, and damn'd.
Thus Critics do make cowards of us all.
And thus the healthful face of many a poem,
199
And enterprizers of great fire, and spirit,
With this regard from Dodsley turn away,
And lose the name of authors.
ROUNDELAY, WRITTEN FOR THE JUBILEE AT STRATFORD UPON AVON,
CELEBRATED BY MR. GARRICK IN HONOUR OF SHAKESPEARE, SEPTEMBER 1769.
I
Sisters of the tuneful train,Attend your Parent's jocund strain,
'Tis Fancy calls you; follow me
To celebrate the Jubilee.
200
II
On Avon's banks, where Shakespeare's bustPoints out, and guards his sleeping dust;
The sons of scenic mirth agree,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
III
Come, daughters, come, and bring with youTh'aerial Sprites and Fairy crew,
And the sister Graces three,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
IV
Hang around the sculptur'd tombThe 'broider'd vest, the nodding plume,
And the mask of comic glee,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
V
From Birnam Wood, and Bosworth Field,Bring the standard, bring the shield,
201
To celebrate the Jubilee.
VI
In mournful numbers now relatePoor Desdemona's hapless fate,
With frantic deeds of jealousy,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
VII
Nor be Windsor's Wives forgot,With their harmless merry plot,
The whitening mead, and haunted tree,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
VIII
Now in jocund strains reciteThe humours of the braggard Knight,
Fat Knight, and Ancient Pistol he,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
202
IX
But see in crowds the Gay, the Fair,To the splendid scene repair,
A scene as fine, as fine can be,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
The BLACKBIRDS.
An ELEGY.
The Sun had chas'd the mountain-snow,
His beams had pierc'd the stubborn soil,
The melting streams began to flow,
And Plowmen urg'd their annual toil.
His beams had pierc'd the stubborn soil,
The melting streams began to flow,
And Plowmen urg'd their annual toil.
'Twas then, amidst the vocal throng,
Whom Nature wak'd to mirth, and love,
A Blackbird rais'd his am'rous song,
And thus it echo'd thro' the grove.
Whom Nature wak'd to mirth, and love,
A Blackbird rais'd his am'rous song,
And thus it echo'd thro' the grove.
203
O fairest of the feather'd train!
For whom I sing, for whom I burn,
Attend with pity to my strain,
And grant my love a kind return.
For whom I sing, for whom I burn,
Attend with pity to my strain,
And grant my love a kind return.
For see, the wint'ry storms are flown,
And zephyrs gently fan the air;
Let us the genial influence own,
Let us the vernal pastime share.
And zephyrs gently fan the air;
Let us the genial influence own,
Let us the vernal pastime share.
The Raven plumes his jetty wing,
To please his croaking paramour,
The Larks responsive carols sing,
And tell their passion as they soar:
To please his croaking paramour,
The Larks responsive carols sing,
And tell their passion as they soar:
But does the Raven's sable wing
Excel the glossy jet of mine?
Or can the Lark more sweetly sing,
Than we, who strength with softness join?
Excel the glossy jet of mine?
Or can the Lark more sweetly sing,
Than we, who strength with softness join?
O let me then thy steps attend!
I'll point new treasures to thy sight:
Whether the grove thy wish befriend,
Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright.
I'll point new treasures to thy sight:
Whether the grove thy wish befriend,
Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright.
204
I'll guide thee to the clearest rill,
Whose streams among the pebbles stray;
There will we sip, and sip our fill,
Or on the flow'ry margin play.
Whose streams among the pebbles stray;
There will we sip, and sip our fill,
Or on the flow'ry margin play.
I'll lead thee to the thickest brake,
Impervious to the school-boy's eye;
For thee the plaister'd nest I'll make,
And to thy downy bosom fly.
Impervious to the school-boy's eye;
For thee the plaister'd nest I'll make,
And to thy downy bosom fly.
When, prompted by a mother's care,
Thy warmth shall form th'imprison'd young,
The pleasing task I'll gladly share,
Or cheer thy labours with a song.
Thy warmth shall form th'imprison'd young,
The pleasing task I'll gladly share,
Or cheer thy labours with a song.
To bring thee food I'll range the fields,
And cull the best of ev'ry kind,
Whatever Nature's bounty yields,
And love's assiduous care can find.
And cull the best of ev'ry kind,
Whatever Nature's bounty yields,
And love's assiduous care can find.
And when my lovely mate wou'd stray,
To taste the summer sweets at large,
I'll wait at home the live-long day,
And fondly tend our little charge.
To taste the summer sweets at large,
I'll wait at home the live-long day,
And fondly tend our little charge.
205
Then prove with me the sweets of love,
With me divide the cares of life,
No bush shall boast in all the grove,
A mate so fond, so blest a wife.
With me divide the cares of life,
No bush shall boast in all the grove,
A mate so fond, so blest a wife.
He ceas'd his song—the plumy dame
Heard with delight the love-sick strain,
Nor long conceal'd a mutual flame,
Nor long repress'd his am'rous pain.
Heard with delight the love-sick strain,
Nor long conceal'd a mutual flame,
Nor long repress'd his am'rous pain.
He led her to the nuptial bow'r,
And perch'd with triumph by her side;
What gilded roof cou'd boast that hour
A fonder mate, or happier bride?
And perch'd with triumph by her side;
What gilded roof cou'd boast that hour
A fonder mate, or happier bride?
Next morn he wak'd her with a song,
Behold, he said, the new-born day,
The Lark his mattin-peal has rung,
Arise, my love, and come away.
Behold, he said, the new-born day,
The Lark his mattin-peal has rung,
Arise, my love, and come away.
Together thro' the fields they stray'd,
And to the murm'ring riv'let's side,
Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd, and play'd
With artless joy, and decent pride.
And to the murm'ring riv'let's side,
Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd, and play'd
With artless joy, and decent pride.
206
When O! with grief my Muse relates
What dire misfortune clos'd the tale,
Sent by an order from the Fates,
A Gunner met them in the vale.
What dire misfortune clos'd the tale,
Sent by an order from the Fates,
A Gunner met them in the vale.
Alarm'd, the lover cried, My dear,
Haste, haste away, from danger fly;
Here, Gunner, point thy thunder here,
O spare my love, and let me die.
Haste, haste away, from danger fly;
Here, Gunner, point thy thunder here,
O spare my love, and let me die.
At him the Gunner took his aim,
Too sure the volley'd thunder flew!
O had he chose some other game,
Or shot—as he was wont to do!
Too sure the volley'd thunder flew!
O had he chose some other game,
Or shot—as he was wont to do!
Divided Pair! forgive the wrong,
While I with tears your fate rehearse,
I'll join the Widow's plaintive song,
And save the Lover in my verse.
While I with tears your fate rehearse,
I'll join the Widow's plaintive song,
And save the Lover in my verse.
207
The GOLDFINCHES.
An ELEGY. TO WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ.
Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.
To you, whose groves protect the feather'd choirs,
Who lend their artless notes a willing ear,
To you, whom Pity moves, and Taste inspires,
The Doric strain belongs, O Shenstone hear.
Who lend their artless notes a willing ear,
To you, whom Pity moves, and Taste inspires,
The Doric strain belongs, O Shenstone hear.
'Twas gentle Spring, when all the plumy race,
By Nature taught in nuptial leagues combine,
A Goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace,
And with her mate in Love's delights to join.
By Nature taught in nuptial leagues combine,
A Goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace,
And with her mate in Love's delights to join.
All in a garden, on a currant-bush,
With wond'rous art they built their airy seat;
In the next orchard liv'd a friendly Thrush,
Nor distant far a Woodlark's soft retreat.
With wond'rous art they built their airy seat;
In the next orchard liv'd a friendly Thrush,
Nor distant far a Woodlark's soft retreat.
208
Here blest with ease, and in each other blest,
With early songs they wak'd the neighb'ring groves,
Till time matur'd their joys, and crown'd their nest
With infant pledges of their faithful loves.
With early songs they wak'd the neighb'ring groves,
Till time matur'd their joys, and crown'd their nest
With infant pledges of their faithful loves.
And now what transport glow'd in either's eye?
What equal fondness dealt th'allotted food?
What joy each other's likeness to descry,
And future sonnets in the chirping brood!
What equal fondness dealt th'allotted food?
What joy each other's likeness to descry,
And future sonnets in the chirping brood!
But ah! what earthly happiness can last?
How does the fairest purpose often fail?
A truant schoolboy's wantonness cou'd blast
Their flatt'ring hopes, and leave them both to wail.
How does the fairest purpose often fail?
A truant schoolboy's wantonness cou'd blast
Their flatt'ring hopes, and leave them both to wail.
The most ungentle of his tribe was he,
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart,
With concord false, and hideous prosody
He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part.
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart,
With concord false, and hideous prosody
He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part.
On mischief bent, he mark'd, with rav'nous eyes,
Where wrapt in down the callow songsters lay,
Then rushing, rudely seiz'd the glitt'ring prize,
And bore it in his impious hands away!
Where wrapt in down the callow songsters lay,
Then rushing, rudely seiz'd the glitt'ring prize,
And bore it in his impious hands away!
209
But how shall I describe, in numbers rude,
The pangs for poor Chrysomitris decreed,
When from her secret stand aghast she view'd
The cruel spoiler perpetrate the deed?
The pangs for poor Chrysomitris decreed,
When from her secret stand aghast she view'd
The cruel spoiler perpetrate the deed?
O grief of griefs! with shrieking voice she cried,
What sight is this that I have liv'd to see!
O! that I had in Youth's fair season died,
From Love's false joys, and bitter sorrows free.
What sight is this that I have liv'd to see!
O! that I had in Youth's fair season died,
From Love's false joys, and bitter sorrows free.
Was it for this, alas! with weary bill,
Was it for this I pois'd th'unwieldy straw?
For this I bore the moss from yonder hill,
Nor shun'd the pond'rous stick along to draw?
Was it for this I pois'd th'unwieldy straw?
For this I bore the moss from yonder hill,
Nor shun'd the pond'rous stick along to draw?
Was it for this I pick'd the wool with care,
Intent with nicer skill our work to crown?
For this, with pain, I bent the stubborn hair,
And lin'd our cradle with the thistle's down?
Intent with nicer skill our work to crown?
For this, with pain, I bent the stubborn hair,
And lin'd our cradle with the thistle's down?
Was it for this my freedom I resign'd,
And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain?
For this I sate at home whole days confin'd,
To bear the scorching heat, and pealing rain?
And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain?
For this I sate at home whole days confin'd,
To bear the scorching heat, and pealing rain?
210
Was it for this my watchful eyes grow dim?
For this the roses on my cheek turn pale?
Pale is my golden plumage, once so trim!
And all my wonted mirth, and spirits fail!
For this the roses on my cheek turn pale?
Pale is my golden plumage, once so trim!
And all my wonted mirth, and spirits fail!
O Plund'rer vile! O more than Adders fell!
More murth'rous than the Cat, with prudish face!
Fiercer than Kites in whom the Furies dwell,
And thievish as the Cuckow's pilf'ring race!
More murth'rous than the Cat, with prudish face!
Fiercer than Kites in whom the Furies dwell,
And thievish as the Cuckow's pilf'ring race!
May juicy plumbs for thee forbear to grow,
For thee no flow'r unveil its charming dies;
May birch-trees thrive to work thee sharper woe,
And list'ning starlings mock thy frantic cries.
For thee no flow'r unveil its charming dies;
May birch-trees thrive to work thee sharper woe,
And list'ning starlings mock thy frantic cries.
Thus sang the mournful bird her piteous tale,
The piteous tale her mournful mate return'd,
Then side by side they sought the distant vale,
And there in secret sadness inly mourn'd.
The piteous tale her mournful mate return'd,
Then side by side they sought the distant vale,
And there in secret sadness inly mourn'd.
211
The SWALLOWS:
An ELEGY.
PART I.
Ere yellow Autumn from our plains retir'd,
And gave to wintry storms the varied year,
The Swallow-race with prescient gift inspir'd,
To southern climes prepar'd their course to steer.
And gave to wintry storms the varied year,
The Swallow-race with prescient gift inspir'd,
To southern climes prepar'd their course to steer.
On Damon's roof a large assembly sate,
His roof a refuge to the feather'd kind!
With serious look he mark'd the grave debate,
And to his Delia thus address'd his mind.
His roof a refuge to the feather'd kind!
With serious look he mark'd the grave debate,
And to his Delia thus address'd his mind.
Observe yon' twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid!
Observe, and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n!
With us thro' Summer's genial reign they stay'd,
And food, and sunshine to their wants were giv'n.
Observe, and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n!
With us thro' Summer's genial reign they stay'd,
And food, and sunshine to their wants were giv'n.
212
But now, by secret instinct taught, they know
The near approach of elemental strife,
Of blust'ring tempests, and of chilling snow,
With ev'ry pang, and scourge of tender life.
The near approach of elemental strife,
Of blust'ring tempests, and of chilling snow,
With ev'ry pang, and scourge of tender life.
Thus warn'd they meditate a speedy flight,
For this ev'n now they prune their vig'rous wing,
For this each other to the toil excite,
And prove their strength in many a sportive ring.
For this ev'n now they prune their vig'rous wing,
For this each other to the toil excite,
And prove their strength in many a sportive ring.
No sorrow loads their breast, or dims their eye,
To quit their wonted haunts, or native home,
Nor fear they launching on the boundless sky,
In search of future settlements to roam.
To quit their wonted haunts, or native home,
Nor fear they launching on the boundless sky,
In search of future settlements to roam.
They feel a pow'r, an impulse all divine,
That warns them hence, they feel it, and obey,
To this direction all their cares resign,
Unknown their destin'd stage, unmark'd their way.
That warns them hence, they feel it, and obey,
To this direction all their cares resign,
Unknown their destin'd stage, unmark'd their way.
Peace to your flight! ye mild, domestic race!
O! for your wings to travel with the sun!
Health brace your nerves, and zephyrs aid your pace,
Till your long voyage happily be done.
O! for your wings to travel with the sun!
Health brace your nerves, and zephyrs aid your pace,
Till your long voyage happily be done.
213
See, Delia, on my roof your guests to-day,
To-morrow on my roof your guests no more,
Ere yet 'tis night with haste they wing away,
To-morrow lands them on some happier shore.
To-morrow on my roof your guests no more,
Ere yet 'tis night with haste they wing away,
To-morrow lands them on some happier shore.
How just the moral in this scene convey'd!
And what without a moral? wou'd we read!
Then mark what Damon tells his gentle maid,
And with his lesson register the deed.
And what without a moral? wou'd we read!
Then mark what Damon tells his gentle maid,
And with his lesson register the deed.
So youthful joys fly like the Summer's gale,
So threats the winter of inclement age,
Life's busy plot a short, fantastic tale!
And Nature's changeful scenes the shifting stage!
So threats the winter of inclement age,
Life's busy plot a short, fantastic tale!
And Nature's changeful scenes the shifting stage!
And does no friendly pow'r to man dispense
The joyful tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence
Beyond the gloomy grave, and short-liv'd time?
The joyful tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence
Beyond the gloomy grave, and short-liv'd time?
214
Yes, yes the sacred oracles we hear,
That point the path to realms of endless joy,
That bid our trembling hearts no danger fear,
Tho' clouds surround, and angry skies annoy.
That point the path to realms of endless joy,
That bid our trembling hearts no danger fear,
Tho' clouds surround, and angry skies annoy.
Then let us wisely for our flight prepare,
Nor count this stormy world our fixt abode,
Obey the call, and trust our Leader's care,
To smooth the rough, and light the darksome road.
Nor count this stormy world our fixt abode,
Obey the call, and trust our Leader's care,
To smooth the rough, and light the darksome road.
Moses, by grant divine, led Israel's host
Thro' dreary paths to Jordan's fruitful side;
But we a loftier theme than theirs can boast,
A better promise, and a nobler guide.
Thro' dreary paths to Jordan's fruitful side;
But we a loftier theme than theirs can boast,
A better promise, and a nobler guide.
PART II.
At length the Winter's howling blasts are o'er,
Array'd in smiles the lovely Spring returns,
Now fewel'd hearths attractive blaze no more,
And ev'ry breast with inward fervor burns.
Array'd in smiles the lovely Spring returns,
Now fewel'd hearths attractive blaze no more,
And ev'ry breast with inward fervor burns.
215
Again the daisies peep, the violets blow,
Again the vocal tenants of the grove
Forgot the patt'ring hail, or driving snow,
Renew the lay to melody, and love.
Again the vocal tenants of the grove
Forgot the patt'ring hail, or driving snow,
Renew the lay to melody, and love.
And see, my Delia, see o'er yonder stream,
Where, on the bank, the lambs in gambols play,
Alike attracted by the sunny gleam,
Again the Swallows take their wonted way.
Where, on the bank, the lambs in gambols play,
Alike attracted by the sunny gleam,
Again the Swallows take their wonted way.
Welcome, ye gentle tribe, your sports pursue,
Welcome again to Delia, and to me,
Your peaceful councils on my roof renew,
And plan new settlements from danger free.
Welcome again to Delia, and to me,
Your peaceful councils on my roof renew,
And plan new settlements from danger free.
Again I'll listen to your grave debates,
Again I'll hear your twitt'ring songs unfold
What policy directs your wand'ring states,
What bounds are settled, and what tribes enroll'd.
Again I'll hear your twitt'ring songs unfold
What policy directs your wand'ring states,
What bounds are settled, and what tribes enroll'd.
Again I'll hear you tell of distant lands,
What insect-nations rise from Egypt's mud,
What painted swarms subsist on Lybia's sands,
What Ganges yields, and what th'Euphratean flood.
What insect-nations rise from Egypt's mud,
What painted swarms subsist on Lybia's sands,
What Ganges yields, and what th'Euphratean flood.
216
Thrice happy race! whom Nature's call invites
To travel o'er her realms with active wing,
To taste her various stores, her best delights,
The Summer's radiance, and the sweets of Spring:
To travel o'er her realms with active wing,
To taste her various stores, her best delights,
The Summer's radiance, and the sweets of Spring:
While we are doom'd to bear the restless change
Of varying seasons, vapours dank, and dry,
Forbid like you in milder climes to range,
When wintry storms usurp the low'ring sky.
Of varying seasons, vapours dank, and dry,
Forbid like you in milder climes to range,
When wintry storms usurp the low'ring sky.
Yet know the period to your joys assign'd,
Know ruin hovers o'er this earthly ball,
As lofty tow'rs stoop prostrate to the wind,
Its secret props of adamant shall fall.
Know ruin hovers o'er this earthly ball,
As lofty tow'rs stoop prostrate to the wind,
Its secret props of adamant shall fall.
But when yon' radiant sun shall shine no more,
The spirit, freed from sin's tyrannic sway,
On lighter pinions borne than yours, shall soar
To fairer realms beneath a brighter ray.
The spirit, freed from sin's tyrannic sway,
On lighter pinions borne than yours, shall soar
To fairer realms beneath a brighter ray.
To plains ethereal, and celestial bow'rs,
Where wintry storms no rude access obtain,
Where blasts no lightning, and no tempest low'rs,
But ever-smiling Spring, and Pleasure reign.
Where wintry storms no rude access obtain,
Where blasts no lightning, and no tempest low'rs,
But ever-smiling Spring, and Pleasure reign.
This little piece, and its companions, particularly the following, are highly honour'd by Mr. Aikin, in his ingenious and entertaining “Essay on the Application of Natural History to Poetry.”
THE END.
| Poems, moral and descriptive | |