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Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric

by the Revd. H. Boyd ... containing the following dramatic poems: The Helots, a tragedy, The Temple of Vesta, The Rivals, The Royal Message. Prize Poems, &c. &c
Boyd, Henry
  
[epigraph]

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[section]
  
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c
  
TO THE REV. EDWARD BERWICK,
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THE HELOTS. A TRAGEDY.
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THE HELOTS. A TRAGEDY.
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ACT I.
 I. 
SCENE I
 II. 
SCENE II.
 II. 
ACT II.
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ACT III.
 I. 
[Scene I.]
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SCENE II.
 IV. 
ACT IV.
 V. 
ACT V.
  
INTRODUCTION,
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THE TEMPLE OF VESTA, A DRAMATIC POEM.
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THE TEMPLE OF VESTA.
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ACT I.
 I. 
[Scene I.]
 II. 
SCENE II.
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ACT II.
 I. 
[Scene I.]
 II. 
SCENE II.
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ACT III.
 I. 
Scene First
 IV. 
ACT IV.
 V. 
ACT V.
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THE RIVALS,
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THE RIVALS,
 I. 
[ACT I.]
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ACT II.
 I. 
[Scene I.]
 II. 
SCENE II.
 IV. 
SCENE IV.
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ACT III.
 I. 
SCENE I.
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THE ROYAL MESSAGE,
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THE ROYAL MESSAGE.
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ACT I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 III. 
SCENE III.
 IV. 
SCENE IV
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ACT II.
 I. 
SCENE I.
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ACT III.
 I. 
SCENE I.
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ACT IV.
 I. 
[Scene I.]
 III. 
SCENE III.
 V. 
ACT V.
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PRIZE, POEMS, ODES, ELEGIES, &c. &c.
  
HYMN TO SILENCE,
  
THE GENIUS OF THE WHITE ROSE,
  
WOODSTOCK.
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THE WANDERER,
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ODE THE FIRST. THE SHEPHERD'S DREAM.
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ODE THE SECOND. THE SHEPHERD'S NUPTIALS.
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ODE THE THIRD. THE SHEPHERD'S VOYAGE.
 4. 
ODE THE FOURTH. THE SHEPHERD'S RETURN.
  
ON THE BIRTH DAY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c.
  
ON THE BIRTH DAY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c.
  
ON THE BIRTH DAY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c.
  
TO CHARLES WILLIAM BURY, ESQ. ON HIS RETURN FROM ITALY, 1789.
  
VERSES, LEFT AT THE REV. PETER TURPIN'S,
  
TO JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, ESQ. M. R. I. A.
  
TO JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, ESQ. M. R. I. A. &c. &c.
  
TO WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ. ON HIS TRAGEDY, ENTITLED DEMOCRATIC RAGE.
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ELEGIES.
  
TO THE REV. JOHN SMYTH, ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG FRIEND, 1779.
  
HENRIETTA,
  
ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. THOMAS STEWART,
  
TO THE REV. DR. LESLIE,
  
ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR JOHN RAWDON, LATE EARL OF MOIRA,
  
SPECIMEN OF THE CAPTIVES,
  
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHARLEMONT, &c.
  
TO THE RIGHT REVEREND THOMAS PERCY, LORD BISHOP OF DROMORE,

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546

VERSES, LEFT AT THE REV. PETER TURPIN'S,

AT BROOKVILLE, IN HIS ABSENCE, Feb. 7th, 1792.

Ah! Flora! why this dead repose?
Awake and leave thy wintry tomb!
And will no breathing sweets disclose
To welcome Love and Hymen home?
How would I bribe (if songs could buy)
The seasons blessings here to join,
I'd proudly share the owner's joy,
For he would sympathize with mine!
Did I possess Golconda's store,
And all the wealth of rich Cathay,
I'd wish him neither less nor more,
Than what would give his virtues play.
547

But had I sage Alcina's voice,
No breeze I'd call, no genial show'r,
Yet soon a green alcove should rise
To vie with Adam's nuptial bow'r.
Yon beeches should expel the day,
Yon borders long should breathe perfume,
Yon mount that mourns the sun's delay
Should rival Hybla's May-morn bloom.
Yon elmy skreen that skirts the lawn,
Should wave aloft, a solemn grove
And seem an ample curtain drawn,
To shield the seat of peace and love.
Had I Astolfo's magic horn
That chac'd the fiends with potent sound,
No pest, on blighting pinion borne
Should ever pass the hallow'd bound.
“Check thy poetic flights, my friend,”
Quintilio cry'd, and press'd my hand,
“No magic bow'rs need here ascend,
“No visionary blooms expand.
“Here some perennials still remain,
“If poets would vouchsafe to mind 'em:
“Yonder they deck your friend's demesne,
“Had you but eyes, you'd quickly find 'em.
“Here Gilead's balm, and Sharon's rose,
“Mingle, at morn, their fragrant breath;
548

“Yonder their op'ning blooms disclose,
“Like Piety and spotless Faith.
“That flower, which never opes its breast,
“Till dews descend, and stars appear,
“Is pity for the wretch distrest,
“Unfolding at the falling tear.
“In colours warm; exuberant, full,
“Here friendship meets the ruffling gale.”
And there in sober tints, and cool,
Judgment, the pansie of the dale,
From Tyber and Ilyssus brought;
Some noble Scions deck the soil
Assembled in yon shelter'd spot,
They cast around a general smile.
Here Roman spirit, Attic sense,
Innoxious wit, and social mirth
Around their mingled sweets dispense,
Nor shame their old, illustrious birth.
Would summer's transient blooms compose
Connubial crowns with these to vie?
Then chide not Flora's dead repose
Nor blame the rigour of the sky.
When driving winds and beating rain,
The wintry prospect round deform
Their vivid tints will still remain,
Their scent exhaustless ever charm.
FINIS.
 

Written about the time of Mr. T's marriage.

An Enchantress in Ariosto.

See Ariosto.

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