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Mr. Cooke's Original Poems

with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language

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ELEGY the Second. On the Same.
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148

ELEGY the Second. On the Same.

Place me, O! place me soon, ye guardian Pow'rs,
Amid the Meads, cool Springs, and sylvan Bow'rs,
Healthful my Body, and my Mind serene,
A willing Pris'ner to the rural Scene,
From servile Flatt'ry, from Detraction, far,
And party Rage, that dire domestic War!
Where no unhallow'd Bard grows madly proud
Of the false Praises of a tasteless Croud.
Free from the Eye of Malice let me rove
Thoughtful from Wild to Wild, from Grove to Grove.
Now on the mossy Bank, beneath the Shade,
For Hours of Love, or Meditation, made,
To the soft Passion I my Heart resign,
And make the long obdurate Maiden mine:

149

Hence ye prophane, be gone, far hence remove,
Nor listen, Cens'rers, to the Voice of Love!
Arise, my Fair, all cheerful as the Morn,
And let the myrtle Wreath thy Brows adorn!
Now in my Breast I feel poetic Fires,
And chant mellifluous what the God inspires,
Or into Nature for her Secrets pry,
And trace her Workings with a curious Eye.
To mend my Virtues, and exalt my Thought,
What the bright Sons of Greece and Rome have wrote
O'er Day and Night I turn: in them we find
A rich Repast for the luxurious Mind.
To crown the Blessings, now in Thought possess'd,
There with a faithful Friend I would be bless'd,
What Converse can, to give Relief inclin'd,
When the dull Blood works Sadness to the Mind.
O! what is Life, or what of Wealth the Pow'r,
Without the Comforts of the social Hour!
If, while in this delightful Calm I'm lay'd,
The groaning Nation should demand my Aid,

150

Should Tyranny provoke to War again,
And Justice call me to th'embattel'd Plain,
Farewel ye craggy Mountains, fragrant Flow'rs,
Ye painted Meads, cool Springs, and sylvan Bow'rs;
Far hence I go to horrid Scenes of Blood,
Where not Ambition calls, but public Good;
Whence if my Stars a kind Return deny,
Without Reluctance in the Field I dy:
But should the wise Disposer, to compleat
My Wish, refix me in the bless'd Retreat,
There with my Friend I would resign my Breath,
And close my Eyes, without a Fear, in Death.