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59

To His Excellency Benedict Leonard Calvert,

Governour, and Commander in Chief, in and over the Province of Maryland.

Permit Great Sir! a Visit from the Muse,
Nor to her comic Tale your Smile refuse:
With humble Duty she persumes to lay
Before your curious View,—This First Essay
Of Latin Poetry, in English Dress,
Which MARYLAND hath publish'd from the Press.
Could I preserve that Beauty in my Lays,
Which Holdsworth's, bright Original displays;
I need not, then, the Critick's Censure fear,
Secure to please the most judicious Ear.
But all TRANSLATORS must with Grief confess,
that while they strive in English to express
The pleasing Charms of Latin Poësy,
They lose its genuine Life, and Energy:
Some Grace peculiar thro' each Language flows,
Which other Idioms never can disclose.
Besides, in all Good Poetry, we find

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A Spirit of a most exalted kind:
To pour it off, in vain the Artist tries,
The subtile Spirit in Transfusion flies
And the insipid Version, lifeless lies.
These Hardships, on the happiest Muse, attend,
With Candor, then, my artless Verse befriend:
Nor Here, expect such “soft enchanting Strains,”
As once You heard on fair Italian Plains;
Where, the kind Climate does the Muse inspire
With Thoughts sublime, and gay poetic Fire;
Where Virgil, Ovid, Horace, struck the Lyre:
Who still demand our Wonder, and our Praise;
Nor spite, nor Time, shall ever blast their Bays.
There Painture breathes, There Statuary lives,
And Music most delightful Rapture gives:
There, pompous Piles of Building pierce the Skies,
And endless Scenes of Pleasure court the Eyes.
While Here, rough Woods embrown the Hills and Plains,
Mean are the Buildings, artless are the Swains:
To raise the Genius,” WE no Time can spare,
A bare Subsistence claims our utmost Care.
But from the Gen'rous Purpose of Your Heart,
Which, in Your Speech you graciously impart;
To give to Virtue its deserved Applause,
To punish daring Vice, by wholsom Laws;
To animate the People, now dismayed,
And add new Life to our declining Trade;
We hope to see soft Joys o'erspread the Land,
And happier Times deriv'd from Your Command.
For should Your Excellency's Plan take Place,
Soon will returning Plenty shew its Face:
The Markets for our Staple, would advance,
Nor shall we live, as now we do, by Chance.
No more, the lab'ring Planter shall complain
How vast his Trouble! but how small his Gain!
THE Mariner shall bless you, when releast
From Toil, which sunk him down from Man to Beast.

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The Merchant, shall applaud your Care, to free
His freighted Vessel from the Wintry Sea.
And Husbands, Brothers, Sons, from Shipwreck save'd,
In Climes remote, with Joy shall be receiv'd;
And thankful, tell their Mothers, Sisters, Wives,
That You, next PROVIDENCE, preserv'd their Lives.
WHEN Records, which to You, their Being owe,
These Acts to late Posterity shall show;
Our Children's Children shall extol Your Name,
And Your's shall equal your great Grandsire's Fame,
Him, shall they stile the Founder of the State,
From YOU its Preservation shall they date.
Oh, may kind Heav'n regard me, while I pray,
That these great Blessings, might attend Your Sway!
May Peace harmonious, in our Councils reign,
And no Dissensions make their Meeting vain!
May the Prerogative receive no Wound,
And Privilege preserve its proper Bound!
May All our Senators, with honest Zeal,
To Private Gain prefer the Public Weal!
Then, shall Their Actions due Applause obtain,
And Arts Polite, shall shine in this Domain;
Then, shall some future Bard Their Praise rehearse;
And paint Your happy Rule in never-dying Verse.
But while thus fondly I persue my Rhyme,
And trespass on Your Excellency's Time,
Against the Public I commit a Crime.
YET—hear me!—while I beg you to excuse,
This bold Intrusion of an unknown Muse;
And if her Faults too manifest appear,
And her rude Numbers should offend your Ear,
Then, if you please with your forgiving Breath,
Which can reprieve the Wretch condemn'd, from Death,
To speak a Pardon for her Errors past,
This First Poetic Crime, shall prove her Last.
 

Poetry, (says Sir John Denham in his admirable Preface before the Translation of the 2d Æneid,) is of so subtile a Spirit, that in pouring out of One Language into Another, it will all evaporate; and if a new Spirit be not added in the Transfusion, there will remain nothing but a Caput Mortuum.

Oct. 10, 1727.


72

THE MOUSE TRAP,

OR THE BATTLE

The Original KAMBROMYOMACHIA, is an Imitation of BATRACHOMYAMACHIA, or The Battle of the Frogs and Mice, mention'd in the Preface; from whence the Greek Motto in the Title-page is taken, by which it Appears, that the Trap which hath proved so fatal to Mice, was known to Homer: Yet the Invention of that destructive Machine, does not belong to his Country-Men the Greeks, but to the Cambrians; if we may credit the Author of the Muscipula, who asserts, that his Design therein, was not to derogate from their Honour, but to vindicate that Dignity which justly belongs to their famous Nation. He acknowledges, (in his Dedication of the Piece, to Robert Lloyd Esq;) That the famous Actions of his Country-Men, would better have furnish'd sublime Images for an Epic Poem, than Materials for this ludicrous Performance; yet that the glorious Atchievements of the Cambrians, were not only unsuitable to a jocose Muse; but that even the Latin Language, was unequal to so noble a Subject, and it would have been unjust, to have described their gallant Deeds in any other Language, than that, which was spoken by the Heroes who performed them.

His only excuse, (since some People may fancy that He stands in Need of an Excuse,) is, That he wrote his Poem to celebrate the very great Antiquity of the Cambrians.

Greece, (says he) hath long since robbed many Nations of their Honour, and arrogantly assumed their Inventions for her own—From the Chaldeans, she stole her Astronomy; —From the Phaenicians, Letters; and even their Jove from the Cretans: But not contented with these Acquisitions, she resolved to consummate her yet imperfect Glory, by adding the Mouse-Trap to her inventions.—And now! what Briton can suppress his Choler! when he is told, that Homer (whose Writings are not, as 'tis thought, more than three thousand Years old) ascribes this stupendous Machine to a Modern Artificer, which derives its Original from a far more Antient Artist, and from the Ingenuity of the Welsh-Men.

He therefore, thought it absolutely necessary, to defend the Fame of Wales, lest the Greeks might seem to emulate the Cambrians in Antiquity; or Homer's Engineer, deprive their Taffy, of his just Reputation.

I have translated this Account of the Muscipula, for the Satisfaction of the Curious; and to assure the Censorious, on the Word of my Author, That what they mistake for Satyr; was intended for a Panegyric, on the Antiquity of the Cambrians, and their Skill in Mechanic Arts.

of the CAMBRIANS and MICE.

The MOUNTAIN-DWELLING BRITON who design'd
A MOUSE-TRAP first, and safe in Jail confine'd
His thievish Foe;—th' inextricable fate
Th' ingenious deathful wiles, O Muse relate!
Thou potent PHOEBUS! (for as Poets sing,
TO MICE, thou once didst great destruction bring;
Whence, in their Writings,

A Title of Phoebus, or Apollo, the fabled God of Poetry, given to Him by Homer, and other Poets. —He was worship'd under that Name, at Tenedos, and Chrysa, near Troy; in a Temple, wherein his Statue was placed, having a Mouse at his Feet: The Reason whereof was this, according to Callinous an antient elegiac Poet; A Colony from Crete, going to Troas, receiv'd an Oracle from Apollo, ordering them to settle in the Place, where the Children of the Earth should attack them; and one Night, an infinite Number of Rats and Mice gnaw'd to Pieces all their Bucklers and other Leathern Utensils; and this they took for an Accomplishment of the Oracle.—

Madame Dacier's Note on the Word in Hom. II. 1.

It may be supposed that Apollo destroyed these Rats and Mice, for Smyntheus, according to Eustathius, seems to be derived from σμινθος a Mouse, q. d. μυοκλονθ i. e. the Mouse-killer; which shews the propriety of the Epithet in this Place.

SMYNTHEUS is thy name,)

Be present, and propitious to my Theme!
For one of

Wales, so called from Camber King of that Country; the Son of Brutus who built London, and called it Troja-nova or new Troy, in Remembrance of old Troy; from whence his Grand-father Æneas came: He died 1139 Years before Christ.—

Milt. Hist. Engl.
CAMBRIA'S Hills, quit

A Mountain, dedicated to Apollo and the Muses; supposed to be the Residence of the former, lying in Epirus in Greece; now called Lower Albany, a Sea Province under the Turks.

PINDUS' Mount,

While I, in lowly Lays, do humble Deeds recount.
THE MOUSE, a noxious animal of prey,
By rapine fed, unpunish'd, wont to stray
Where innate lust of plunder led the way,
Persu'd his wicked arts without controll,
And fearless, did in peace and plenty roll.
Now here, now there he rov'd, a nimble thief,
Each dish debauching with malignant teeth.
Nothing was left untouch'd, at every feast
The Household-Foe was an assiduous guest;
Nor bars nor walls his ravage could resist.

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Unsafe were cakes, within the strongest gates,
Thro' them a passage for himself he eats;
With unbought dainties he regal'd his taste,
And by his conqu'ring teeth laid strongest bulwarks waste.
WHILE thro' the Globe this Plague resistless creeps,
CAMBRIA thereby afflicted, chiefly weeps;
For there much CHEESE emits a sav'ry scent,
Which gave the MOUSE more fullness of content
Than other kinds; with which, in wanton waste,
He, slightly-nibbling, gratifies his taste:
In This, with frequent teeth he form'd a cave;
Which at one time, both food and shelter gave.
WHEN thus insulted, the whole Nation burns,
And Grief and Rage perplex their Minds by Turns;
They gnash their teeth, and restless, shift their place,
And o'er the mountains take their wand'ring ways:
For CAMBRIAN hearts soon glow with native ire,
Such sudden passion does their breasts inspire,
You'd think their sulph'rous HANDS had set their SOULS on fire.
BY Fury prompted, they at once decree
To kill the MOUSE, and set the Nation free.
But then, alas! no human art could show
How to entrap so vigilant a Foe:
Nor could thy CAT the suff'ring State befriend,
O CAMBRIAN! or thy domes from foes defend.
Oft'times, indeed, in Ambuscade she lay,
That thus she might her enemy betray;
Soft-creeping, then, she to his cavern stole,
And watch'd with sharpen'd Sight, the mazy Hole.
Vain were her Arts, the MOUSE, uncurs'd with bulk,
Around the passes of his den would skulk;
And if he saw the CAT, intent on prey,
Besiege his Fort, soon backward took his way,
To winding dark recesses made his flight,
And Caves invisible to CATTISH sight;

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Nor new excursions daring thence to make,
Unless the Spoiler should the Camp forsake;
With fearful Caution he conceal'd his head,
'Till with GRIMALKIN all the danger fled.
THE CAMBRIANS thus escap'd the raging war,
(If we to MICE may CAMBRIANS compare,)
When mighty

It may be thought that this Julius, whose Conquests are said to be so Extensive, was Julius Caesar: But though he made two Expeditions into Britain, about 53 Years before Christ, yet the Glory, rather than the Dominion of Rome was encreased thereby; for notwithstanding his own Account of them, several Writers speak very doubtfully of his British Victories, and that in plain Terms, He was driven from the Island; as Lucan, in this noted Verse;

Territa quaesitis ostendit arma Britannis.
Fled from the Britains, whom his Arms had fought.

Horace, in a Compliment to Augustus says, The Britains were at that time untouch'd;

Intactus aut Britannus ut descenderet.
Sacra catenatus viâ.
Or Britains yet untouch'd, in Chains shall come,
To grace his Triumphs, thro' the Streets of Rome.

And Tacitus, a grave Historian, says, That Julius Caesar did not conquer Britain, but only shewed it to the Romans. So that our Julius, must be Agricola; who in the Time of Domitian, about 80 Years after Christ, subdued almost the whole British Nation; and among others, many of the Cambrians inhabiting Herefordshire; the rest fled into the Mountains and preserved themselves. The Words— Orbe Subacto,—must be read with Allowance for the Poetic License of putting the Whole for a Part.

Eachard. Milton. Cambden.
JULIUS by his dreadful Sword,

Compell'd the conquer'd Globe to call him Lord;
While their poor neighbor BRITONS were subdu'd,
The CAMBRIANS did his potent Arms elude;
Thus to their Mountains the whole Nation fled,
Ramparts impregnable, by Nature made:
Despair of Conquest drove them from the Field,
Yet still their haughty Souls disdain to yield;
Amidst their Rocks and Ruins they retreat,
There safely lurking, they preserv'd the State;
Hence their most tedious pedigrees they boast,
Their Antique Tongue, and

As the Cambrians are said to be the true Britains unmix'd with other People, their Families, and Language, are doubtless very antient.—They remain'd unconquered by the Romans;—Tacitus, and Pliny, say they were a hardy, stout, warlike People; averse to Servitude, of great Boldness, and Resolution; called by the Romans Obstinacy, and Stubbornness, not to be won by Threats or Kindness.— After the Romans had abandon'd Britain, and withdrawn their Forces; the other Britons, were miserably harrassed by the Saxons, but the Cambrians were secure, and free among their prodigious Rocks;—and confiding as well in their Strength and Courage, as in the Roughness and Scituation of their Country, which may seem, in a manner, as if Nature had design'd it for Ambuscades, and prolonging of War; they resisted all their Enemies, and preserved their Liberty; 'till the reign of Edw. I, when, (as he writes it of himself) the Kingdom of Wales was subjected to him: But in the next Age, nothing could induce them to endure this Servitude, nor could they be reconciled to the English Government, 'till Hen. VII, descended from the Welsh, was favourable and easy to them; and Hen. VIII, admitted them to the same Laws, and Liberties with the English; since that, and some Time before, the Kings of England, have found them of untainted Loyalty, and Obedience.—

Milt. Camd.
Freedom never lost.

TH' insulting MOUSE did now the arms defy
Of CAMBRIA, and GRIMALKIN, her Allie:
With bold incursions he disturb'd their rest,
And banish'd hope from every BRITISH breast.
At length a solemn Council by command,
Meets on th' extremest limit of the land,
Where now

St. David's lies in the more Westerly Parts of Pembrokeshire, on a Promontory, extended far into the Irish Sea. W. Rufus, seeing Ireland from hence, said He could easily make a Bridge of Ships, whereby he might pass from Kingdom to Kingdom. Dewi, a most religious Bishop, translated the Archiepiscopal Seat from Kaer-Leion hither; which from him was afterwards call'd Ty Dewi, i. e. David's House, And by the Moderns, St. Davids. It had its Archbishops for a long Time, but the Plague raging very much here, the Pall was translated to Dôll in Little-Britain, which was the End of this Archiepiscopal Dignity: The Britains in Latter Times, to regain it, commenced an Action against the A. B. of Canterbury, Metropolitan of England and Wales, but were cast.— What kind of City it was formerly, is hard to guess, seeing it has been frequently spoil'd by the Danes, Norwegians and other Pyrates; at present it is a very mean Place. Camd. Mr. Ed. Lhywd. Heyl.

St. DAVID'S does her Fate deplore,

And empty Name; her Prelates are no more,
Half-buried sinks her City on the Shore.
Elders and Nobles here promiscuous crowd,
With those whose sulph'rous scent confess'd their vulgar blood.
THE SENIOR then, whose beard prolix had been
By Mountain-Goats with envy often seen;
With Scurf incrusted were his hands and face,
A Scurf hereditary to his Race,
Conspicuous, in the midst assumes his place:
His limbs decrepit 'gainst a post recline'd,
Which, polish'd by the backs of CAMBRIANS, shine'd

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From his deep throat the clustring accents broke
Precipitant, and thus aloud he spoke:
Not open War constrains us here to meet,
But private Theft, impov'rishing our State;
An Inmate-Guest, and not a foreign foe,
Excites our deepest grief, our weightiest woe;
Shall MICE, with petulancy arm'd, maintain,
Maugre our best efforts, their tyrant-reign?
Ye FATHERS! whose Degree we all revere,
If to your hearts the Common-weal be dear,
Let your sage Counsels yield us some relief,
And with your helping hands remove our load of grief;
Thus, while

Cadwallader is said to have been the last King of the Britains, who having been thrown out by Faction, returned from Banishment, and invaded Kentwin the West Saxon; who had chased the Welch Britains, as is chronicled, tho' without Circumstance, to the very Sea Shore, about the Year 683; he proved victorious, then conquering the Isle of Wight, he gave the fourth Part of it to pious Uses; and being warned (as he thought) by an Angel, to go to Rome, he went thither; was baptized by—Pope Sergius, and called Peter; he put on a religious Habit, died 5 Weeks after his Baptism, in the Thirtieth Year of his Age, and was buried in St. Peter's Church: His Successors were no longer called Kings of Britain, but Kings, or Princes of Wales.—This Account of Cadwallader is collected from Heylin's Cosm. and Baker's Chron. But Milton says, that He, whom the Britains will have to be Cadwallader, their last King, was Kedwalla a Saxon of the Royal Line, and Samme's in his Britannia, says, That the Britons, mistaken by Similitude of Name, ascribe the Actions of the one to the other.—But the British King Kedwalla, or Kadwallon, was, perhaps, the famous Cadwallader, who with a great Army of Britains, joyning Penda, the Mercian; destroyed Edwin, the greatest King of all the Saxons, and a Christian, in Battle; and broke the Monarchy of the Northumbrians, which was chief in Britain. Cadwallon was a Christian, and Penda a Pagan; but the Christian King, is said (by Milton) to be more bloody than the Heathen; for he threaten'd to root out the whole Nation, tho' then newly Christian, and omitting nothing of barbarous Cruelty in the Slaughter of Sex or Age, ravaged the Province at his Pleasure, 'till at last, he was cut off by Oswald (Brother to Eanfrid, who being of the Royal Line, had been banished to Scotland by Edwin; and learn'd the Christian Religion there,) with a small Christian Army; and He, and his boasted invincible Forces, were destroyed at a Place call'd Heavenfield or Hatfield in Yorkshire, near the antient Roman Wall.

A. D. 634. Camd. Milt.
CADWALLADER'S bright fame shall live,

So long to you shall men due honour give.
HE said, and rais'd the scraps of CHEESE in view,
Unsightly fragments, of a mouldy hue;
Reliques of theft, and monuments of spoil;
With rancrous Rage the CAMBRIAN Bosoms boil:
And now revenge, and now the love of Praise,
Does in their breasts an em'lous ardor raise;
Each vows the foe shall feel unheard-of pain,
And MOUSE-TRAPS in Idëa fill each brain.
BUT one, whose Cunning was diffus'd by Fame,
Beyond the rest, and TAFFY was his name,
(Black-smith and Senator, sublime he shone
In each Capacity;—his equal none
Was ever born in WALES,) to speak begun:
Great are the fears which my poor breast assail,
Lest CHEESE, the glory of our Nation fail;
Then shall the Plowman his whole supper lose,
Nor can the Rich their SECOND COURSE produce;
Since CAMBRIAN valour yields us no relief,
Nor can our CATS oe'rcome the monster thief,
I'll try what this mechanic hand can do,
If guileful Traps will these our Foes subdue;
“And when Success an Enemy attends,
“Who asks if FRAUD, or FORCE obtain'd his Ends?

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IN joyful murmurs, the surrounding throng
Applaud the boastful accents of his tongue;
With wishful Eyes they beg their promis'd joys,
And, ardent, hope their safety from his voice.
HE scratch'd his head, (for to the CAMBRIAN race
Scratching yields much delight,) with horrid grace
He sneer'd, and then wide-gaping, thus he said;
Last night, when deepest sleep my eyes o'erspread,
And wrapt my weary limbs in soft repose,
A daring MOUSE, attracted I suppose
By unconcocted CHEESE, in od'rous fumes
Exhaling from my greasy mouth, presumes
Thro' my dissever'd teeth to steal his way,
And make the treasure of my guts his prey;
Which quickly would have been the dire event,
Had not I, waking, spoil'd his curs'd intent;
Shut fast my mouth, to hold the glutton-thief,
And made our Foe the captive of my teeth:
Struggling, the Rebel strove to 'scape, in vain;
Tenacious bonds his backward flight restrain.
Thus when I was by sure experience taught
That MICE might be in artful Prisons caught,
Musing thereon, such fetters I design'd,
As first the Foe suggested to my mind.
O! by what mystick law does JOVE'S right hand,
Wond'rous to thought, the Universe command!
Thro' what blind mazes mighty causes err!
A Series, in “confusion regular”!
The MOUSE, unwilling, mollifies our grief,
And he, who gave the wound, now brings relief;
Nor for the teacher's sake the skill despise,
'Tis no disgrace to learn what Foes advise.

81

HE said, and to his mansion strait repairs;
Th' applauding throng accompany with Pray'rs,
And wish good omens may attend his cares.
Swift-running then they seek their own abodes,
And fondly tell before their house-hold Gods,
What public blessings they expect to gain,
From some brave work of TAFFY'S pregnant brain;
And while they ev'ry circumstance repeat,
And humbly, from the Gods success intreat,
The CATS admonish'd, with presageful mind,
Were more than usually to play incline'd,
And milky curds, (if we may credit Fame,)
Dancing beneath her hands, amaze'd each Dame.
MEAN-TIME with head, and hands, great TAFFY tries
To frame the mighty work, his dire device,
At length, he builds a MOUSE-TRAP; which was made
Like the fame'd

Pallas, was the Heathen Goddess of Arts and Sciences,—The Original, exactly translated, would be—At length he builds a Mouse-Trap, by the Divine Art of Pallas: But as the Author has made Use of Virgil's Words, wherein he mentions the building of the Horse, which proved so fatal to the Trojans; the Translator presumed that it would appear more ludicrous to make the Simile, which is not injurious to the Author's Sense, who without doubt, had that famous Machine in View, when he applied Virgil's Expression on that Subject, to his Mouse-Trap.

TROJAN HORSE, by PALLAS' aid:

Appears the TRAGI-COMIC pile in view,
A dread Machine, most wonderful and new.
AND thou, my Muse, if time admits Delay,
The infant-fabric trace with swift survey,
And the whole structure, in each part, display!
Quadrangular in form, the roof, and floor,
Of two flat boards are made; plain and secure:
Each side is guarded with a steely row
Of wires, which like to slender columns show,
Fix'd on these slender columns stands the house,
Th' insidious open entrance shews the MOUSE
An hospitable Inn,—but o'er his head,
Threatning destruction, by a feeble thread
A gate suspended, fills the heart with dread;
(Alike, on MEN and MICE, the Fates attend,
Their Lives, alike, on feeble Threads depend;
Which, when the

The Parcae, or Fates, according to Ovid in the Story of Meleager, pronounce the Fate of every one that is born; they were supposed to be three Sisters, their Names Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.—To them was intrusted the Thread of Life: Clotho, draws the Thread between her Fingers:—Lachesis, turns the Wheel;—and Atropos, the most fatal of the Three, cuts the Thread which is spun, with a pair of Sheers. Serv. in Virg. Æn. I.

CRUEL SISTER cuts alike their Days must end.

Amid the roof, a post is seen to rise,
Which holds a transverse beam, of smaller size,
On either side, its well-pois'd arms extend,
The one depress'd, the other must ascend,

83

And mounting, raise the Gate thereto annex'd;
In a small ope'ning of the roof, is fix'd
A pendent wire, which readily obeys
The facil touch, and this, or that way, plays;
Within the house, bent to a hook by art,
To hold the bait, appears its lower part,
The other End, perfidious, holds the Beam,
Where on the roof descends its arm extreme;
But when it feels the Foe has seiz'd the bait,
Down drops, without delay, the loosen'd gate,
The first assault avenging with his Fate.
With CHEESE, now TAFFY arms the pendent steel
And his Foes Death, does in their food conceal,
To which, that more it might inflame desire,
He adds new fragrance by the force of fire.
AND now the memorable night roll'd on;
TAFFY to ease his weary limbs lay down,
His friendly guardian TRAP was near him place'd,
While with soft slumber he his labours ease'd.
Mean-time, confiding to the silent gloom,
The MICE, lascivious, range around the room:
Their leader, born beneath some luckless Star,
Had smelt the flavour of the CHEESE from far;
Quick, to the fatal Trap he makes his way,
And storms its pillar'd sides to gain the prey;
In vain—! his strongest efforts they oppose;
Repuls'd, indignant, round the grates he goes,
And with sagacious beard, and wrinkling nose
Exploring, finds and passes thro' the Gate,
Irremeable, his bane, the direful bait
He seiz'd, and joyful, feasted on his Fate.

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DOWN from the hook, Lo the port-cullice falls!
Whose clangor from his slumber TAFFY calls,
TAFFY, triumphant, wild with hasty joy,
Leaps from the bed to see his welcom prey,
Who now imprison'd, fights with teeth, and nails,
Now madly, with his head, the grates assails;
And from the foe that once disturb'd the house,
Is now become a most RIDIC'LOUS MOUSE.
Thus, (if great things with mean we may compare)
A

Marsya, a Part of old Italy, was famous for having a Breed of wild Boars, of a vast Size, and great Fierceness: The Hunters, with their Dogs, drove them into the Toiles which they spread for them; and when they were intangled in the Nets, destroyed them.

MARSYAN Boar, compell'd into the Snare,

His stiff'ning bristles rears;—his bosom boils
With horrid rage,—he shakes th' entangling toiles;
Furious, he throws the whiten'd foam around,
The Forests, echoing to his grunts, resound;
Fearless, the Dogs around their prey resort,
And what was late their dread, is now their sport.
FROM lofty mountains, with the rising day,
Precipitant, the CAMBRIANS urge their way;
For to each ear the pleasing news had flown,
His wonted gravity the Ass laid down;
Now, nimbly-frisking, like a youthful Goat,
He mounts a Hill; and with discordant note,
Hoarse, like a CAMBRIAN Cryer, thrice he brays;
Thrice mentions TAFFY'S name with grateful praise:
Thrice to his Friends proclaims the public joys.
The Owl, likewise (from that important hour
Instyle'd the CAMBRIAN AMBASSADOUR)
Wand'ring about all night, with shrilling cries,
To ev'ry Town, thro' ev'ry Street he flies;
Clanging, he beats the Windows of each house,
And sings th' approaching fun'ral of the MOUSE.
The Mountains teem; and thick'ning oe'r the plains,
From

The chief Town of Pembrokeshire, the most pleasant County of all Wales. It is one direct Street, on a narrow Point of Land, all Rock; close to the Walls, on both Sides, ebbs and flows a forked Arm of Milfordhaven, which contains sixteen Creeks, five Bays, thirteen Roads, and is the most spacious and secure Harbour in Europe.—

Heyl. and Add. to Camden.
Pembroke, and

Meirionydhshire, in North Wales; of which Giraldus Cambrensis, quoted by Camden p. 655, saith, “That it is the roughest and most unpleasant County of all Wales, For the Hills are extraordinary high, and yet very narrow, and terminating in sharp Peaks; nor are they thin scatter'd, but placed very close; and so even in height, that the Shepherds frequently converse from the Tops of them, who yet in case they should wrangle, and appoint a Meeting, can scarce come together from Morning 'till Night.” But in the Add. to Camden, p. 657, Giraldus is confuted.

Mervinia rush the Swains;


87

Those who inhabit

according to Camd. it lies in Flintshire, an eminent City in the Time of Antoninus, and afterwards a famous Monastery, in which saith Bede, “There were so many Monks, that when they were divided into seven Parts, having each their distinct Ruler appointed them; every one of those particular Societies, consisted of three hundred Men at least, who all lived by the Labour of their own Hands.—

Britan. 556
BANGOR swell the throng:

The Crowd, from

Caer-mardhin, is so called by Ptolemy, the chief Town in West-Wales; here Merlin was born, said to be the son of an Incubus, (or Devil who deluded his Mother in human Shape) who has the Reputation of an eminent Prophet, among the Vulgar. Ninnius mentions him first, but says, that Merlin confess'd to King Vortigern, that his Father was a Roman, which his Mother was afraid to own, lest she should be put to Death for it. All the Monkish Writers who mention him, call him either a Prophet, or Magician; they relate Wonders of him, and have preserved many Prophesies, pretended to be his: But H. Lhwyd, a judicious Author, says, he was a Man of extraordinary Learning, and Prudence; and that for some Skill in the Mathematicks, many Fables were invented of him by the Vulgar, which being afterwards put in Writing, were handed down to Posterity. Camd. p. 622, and the Add. to him.

Merlin flourish'd, A. D. 480.
MARIDUNUM rolls along;

A City fame'd through-out the peopled Earth,
Prophetic MERLIN, thence derive'd his birth:

The Original is—Veniunt foecunda Glamorgan quos alit,—They came, whom fruitful Glamorgan nourishes.—Glamorganshire, is wash'd by the Severn Sea, on the South; on the North it is very rugged with Mountains, which inclining towards the South, become by Degrees more tillable, and spread into a spacious Plain, open to the South Sun, which is exceeding pleasant, for the Fertility of its Soil, and the Number of Towns and Villages there.

Camd.
GLAMORGAN'S well-fed Sons in order came,

And those who drink of

Vaga,—the River Wye; runs Southward from Monmouth, with many Windings and Turnings, (says Camd. p. 596.) which may justify the Epithet, winding, in English, though it is not expressed in the Latin; unless the Name Vaga, imports its winding Course. It's now the Limit between Gloucestershire and Monmouthshire, but was formerly the Boundary between the Welsh and English,—near Chepstow it falls into the Severn Sea.

VAGA'S winding stream;

And they whose ploughs divide

In the Latin, rigidusq; Colonus Gomerici Montis. Montigomery, tho' it be a mountainous, yet is it in general a very fertile Country; having fruitful Vales, as well for Pasture, as arable Land. Camd. The Inhabitants, are an industrious and laborious People.

MONTGOMERY'S Soil,

A rugged race, inure'd to care, and toil.
Th' incircling Crowd, well-pleas'd, on TAFFY waits,
While mirthful, He, his Captive irritates;
Condemn'd to bleed, thy struggling proves but vain,
Thou, the first Victim, shall my Altar stain;
Inexorable grates thy flight restrain:
Mischievous wretch! receive thy righteous doom!
Depart thy Prison—but possess thy Tomb!
THESE, his last words, the playful CAT attends,
And from the warm house-top, in haste descends;
Where, with extended legs, in times of peace,
She use'd to languish in luxurious ease.
The Captive saw his dreadful foe appear,
And soon, with stiff'ning ears, confess'd his fear;
With back up-heav'd, he fain would shrink from Fate,
Yet, coward, dares not fly, but shuns the open gate;
Unwilling from his Prison to be free,
In that, alone, his hopes of Liberty
Are place'd;—his bonds he labours to retain,
With claws tenacious clinging to his chain:
Superior force forbids his longer stay;
With swiftest speed the CAT invades her prey;
With cruel kisses She her foe persue'd,
Struggling, in vain, her savage grasp t' elude:
The Conqu'ror, now impatient of delay,
Swift writhes her twirling tail to shew her joy;
Then rolls her body in lascivious play:
Now, couchant, sees the hapless Pris'ner move;
Then, lightly pats his neck, and acts a treachr'ous love:

89

Jocosely bar'brous, thus, with various art,
She plays, with cruel mirth, a Tyrant's part.
AT length, grown weary of this trifling play,
She grinds her teeth, and gives her Fury way:
The Lion, thus, his hunger to asswage,
Incumbent o'er the prey, exerts his rage:
Inly she growls, her pleasure to attest,
With mangling teeth she tears his trembling breast,
His blood be-sprinkled bowels crown her feast.
The num'rous throng, that round about her stood,
Soon as they saw the foe's most odious blood;
With joyful clamours, fill th' ethereal Round,
ECHO, inhabitant of CAMBRIAN Ground,
In ev'ry place repeats the joyful sound;

This seems to be a Mountain, but I find none of the Name in Camd. He says that Brecknock, the Chief Town of the Shire, derives its Name from Prince Brechanius, of whom Giraldus gives this remarkable Account,—That he had 24 Daughters, and that they were all Saints.—Two Miles to the East of Brecknock, is a large Lake, which Giraldus calls Clamosum, from the terrible Noice it makes like a Clap of Thunder, at the Cracking of the Ice. It was this Lake, perhaps, that resounded the Shouts of the Victors.

BRECHIN, and

The Mountains of this Name lie in Caernarvonshire, Camd. calls them the British Alps. They are vastly high, and no less inaccessible than the Alps themselves; and do all of them, encompass one Hill, which far exceeding all the rest in height, seems, I shall not say to threaten the Sky, but even to thrust its Head into it. Camd. p. 663. Such as have not seen Mountains of this kind, are not able to frame any Idea of them, from the Hills of lower Countreys: For whereas such Hills are but single Heights, or Stories; these are heap'd upon one another; so that having climbed up one Hill, we come to a Valley, and most commonly to a Lake, and passing by that, we ascend another, and sometimes a Third and Fourth, before we arrive at its highest Peaks. Add. to Camd. 667. The Height of Snowdon, measur'd exactly by Mr. Adams, is 1247 Yards.

Derh. Astro. Theol.
SNOWDEN, feel the spluttering voice;

And vast

Plinlimmon rises to a great Height, and on that Side where it limits Montgomeryshire, sends out the River Severn; next to Thames the most noted River of Britain: It takes its Name, according to the Monkish Writers, from Sabra, who was thrown into it by Guendoler, Daughter of Corineus Duke of Cornwal;—Her Story may be found in a wretched Play, called Locrine; falsely attributed to Shakespeare.)— Remurmur to the Sound.—The Word Remurmur, is frequently used by Mr. Dryden; and by Mr. Pope, in these fine Lines, describing the Noise of an Army in their March.

Murmuring they move, as when old Ocean roars,
And heaves huge Surges to the trembling Shores,
And groaning Banks, are burst with bellowing Sound,
The Rocks remurmur, and the Deeps rebound.
Il. 2d. 249, &c.
PLINLIMMON'S Rocks remurmur to the noise:

Their loud Applauses wound the neighb'ring skies,
And

Offa, the Eleventh King of the Mercians, was the most valiant and powerful of all the English Saxons; he proved victorious in many Battles; but in the Year 776, all the Britains both of N. and S. Wales, joyning together, invaded the Kingdom of Mercia; and made terrible Devastation in many Parts of the Country, wasting all with Fire and Sword: Whereupon Offa was constrained to make a Peace with the other Saxon Kings; and to turn all his Forces against the Welsh, who, unable to resist so great a Power, were obliged to abandon all the plain Country, between Wye and Severn, and retire to the Mountainous Parts, upon which Advantage, Offa immediately seized all the plain Country, planted it with Saxon inhabitants, annexed it to his own Kingdom, and caused a Ditch, or Intrenchment, to be made from Sea to Sea between his Kingdom, and Wales, to defend his Country from future Invasion. Ech. p. 28. This Dyke extended from the Mouth of Dee, to that of the River Wye, for the Space of about 90 Miles; many Parts of it are still to be seen. Joan. Salibur, in Polyerat. writes, that Harold established a Law, that whatever Welsh-Man should be found arm'd, on this Side the Limit he had set them, to wit, Offa's Dyke, his right Hand should be cut off by the King's Officers. Camd. p. 585. The Author of the Addition to Camd. says, that this Limit was not well maintained by the English; for the antient British Customs, and Names of Men, and Places, remain still, for some Space on the English Side, almost the whole Length of it.

p. 587.
OFFA'S distant DYKE the shouts replies.

THOU, TAFFY, shalt enjoy an endless state!
Thy Gifts, ev'n now, the CAMBRIANS celebrate;
Mindful of Thee, with each revolving Year,
Thy patriot name they joyfully revere;
Grateful, they guard their national renown,
And redolent with

It is said, That the Custom of wearing Leeks on St. David's Day, had this Original: The Welsh gain'd a great Victory on that Day; the Battle was fought near a Place where many Leeks grew, which they pull'd up, and wore in their Monmouth Caps, to distinguish themselves from others, and they continue to wear them on that Anniversary, as an honourable Badge of their Bravery.

Whether the first of March was consecrated to the Memory of Dewy, or St. David, in the Note (g) who is thought to have suffered Martyrdom on that Day, or to David, the General in this Battle, I shall not determine, but leave it to the Criticks.

It may, in the Opinion of some Readers, who are unacquainted with the different Structure of Latin and English Verse, be thought a Fault in this Translation, that it contains more Lines than the Original; For their Satisfaction herein, I quote the following Passage, from the last Note, on the 23d Book of Mr. Pope's Odyssey, with a little necessary Variation.

Mr. Broome, the Author of that Note, having observed that there are but few Lines more in the Translation of the 23d Book, than in Homer, proceeds thus, “I speak it not as if this were a Beauty, it may as well be a Fault; Our Heroic Verse consists but of Ten Syllables, the Latin of Fifteen; as in this Verse,—Monticolam Britonem qui primus vincula Muri. We therefore write with the Disadvantage of Five Syllables; which makes it generally impossible to comprehend the Sense of One Line in the Original, within the Compass of One Line in a Translation, with any tolerable Beauty; but in some Parts where the Subject seemed to hang heavy, this has been attempted; with what Success must be left to the judicious Reader.”—From hence it appears, that Two Lines of the Latin, contain as many Syllables as Three in English Verse; which will, I hope, justify me on this Account.

LEEK their Temples crown.

The END.