They spoke of Fortune, as some doubtful dame, Enjoy'd the most that inuocence can give, The sole deceit their artless bosom knew! Sincere themselves, ah too secure to find The common bosom, like our own, sincere! Tis its own guilt alarms the jealous mind; 'Tis her own poison bids the viper fear. Sketch'd on the lattice of th' adjacent fane, Their suppliant busts implore the reader's prayer: Ah gentle souls! enjoy your blissful reign, And let frail mortals claim your guardian care. For sure, to blissful realms the souls are flown, That never flatter'd, injur'd, censur'd, strove; The friends of science! music, all their own; Music, the voice of virtue and of love! The journeying peasant, through the secret shade, Heard their soft lyres engage his listening ear; And haply deem'd some courteous angel play'd; No angel play'd-but might with transport hear. For these the sounds that chase unholy strife! Solve envy's charm, ambition's wretch release! Raise him to spurn the radiant ills of life: To pity pomp, to be content with peace. Farewel, pure spirits! vain the praise we give, The praise you sought from lips angelic flows; Farewel! the virtues which deserve to live, Deserve an ampler bliss than life bestows. ELEGY XVI. He suggests the advantages of birth to a person of merit, and the folly of a superciliousness that is built upon that sole foundation. WHEN Genius grac'd with lineal splendour glows, He mourns his lot; he wishes, merits fame. But gleam still lovely thro' the checquer'd shades. Vainly, to guard from Love's unequal chain, Though you contemn, the gods respect his vow; And still her hand some various garland wove. Erroneous fancy shap'd her wild attire; From Bethlem's walls the poor lymphatic stray'd; Seem'd with her air her accent to conspire, When, as wild fancy taught her, thus she said: "Hear me, dear youth! oh hear a hapless maid, Sprung from the scepter'd line of ancient kings! Scorn'd by the world, I ask thy tender aid ; Thy gentle voice shall whisper kinder things. "The world is frantic-fly the race profane— Nor I, nor you, shall its compassion move; Come, friendly let us wander, and complain, And tell me, shepherd! hast thou seen my love? A prince, from gods descended, fires her breast; Or mix with puddle the pellucid stream? "See through these veins the sapphire current shine! 'T was Jove's own nectar gave th' etherial hue: Can base plebeian forms contend with mine! Display the lovely white, or match the blue? "The painter strove to trace its azure ray; He chang'd his colours, and in vain he strove ; He frown'd;-I, smiling, view'd the faint essay; Poor youth! he little knew it flow'd from Jove. "Pitying his toil, the wondrous truth I told; How amorous Jove trepann'd a mortal fair; How through the race the generous current roll'd, And mocks the poet's art, and painter's care. "Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, sprung Our sacred race; through demigods convey'd; And he, ally'd to Phœbus, ever young, My god-like boy, must wed their duteous maid. "Oft when a mortal vow profanes my ears, My sire's dread fury murmurs through the sky; And should I yield-his instant rage appears, He darts th' uplifted vengeance—and I die. "Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll!. Have you not seen more horrid lightnings glare! 'Twas then a vulgar love ensnar'd my soul: 'Twas then-I hardly scap'd the fatal snare. "T was then a peasant pour'd his amorous vow, All as I listen'd to his vulgar strain ;Yet such his beauty-would my birth allow, Dear were the youth, and blissful were the plain. "But oh! I faint! why wastes my vernal bloom, In fruitless searches ever doom'd to rove? My nightly dreams the toilsome path resume And I shall die-before I find my love. "When last I slept, methought my ravish'd eye On distant heaths his radiant form survey'd: Though night's thick clouds encompass'd all the sky, The geins that bound his brow dispell'd the shade. "O how this bosom kindled at the sight! Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chase! Till, on a sudden, these withheld their lightAll, all things envy the sublime embrace. "But now no more-behind the distant grove Wanders my destin'd youth, and chides my stay: See, see, he grasps the steel-forbear, my loveIanthe comes; thy princess hastes away." Scornful she spoke, and heedless of reply The lovely maniac bounded o'er the plain; The piteous victim of an angry sky! Ah me! the victim of her proud disdain ! ELEGY XVII. He indulges the suggestions of spleen: Æole, namque tibi divûm pater atque hominum rex But brews a tempest in a breast like mine. Relenting yields beneath the noontide beam, I stand aghast; and chill'd with fear survey How far I've tempted life's deceitful stream! Where, by remorse impell'd, repuls'd by fears, Shall wretched Fancy a retreat explore ? She flies the sad presage of coming years, And, sorrowing, dwells on pleasures now no more! She visits, Isis! thy forsaken stream, Farewel, with whom to these retreats I stray'd! Nor yields the refuse of his wreath to mine. Where shall I find the silent scenes I love? Near some sad ruin's ghastly shade to dwell! There let me fondly eye the rude remains, And from the mouldering refuse build my cell! Genius of Rome! thy prostrate pomp display! Trace every dismal proof of Fortune's power; Let me the wreck of theatres survey, Or pensive sit beneath some nodding tower. Or where some duct, by rolling seasons worn, Convey'd pure streams to Rome's imperial wall, Near the wide breach in silence let me mourn; Or tune my dirges to the water's fall. Genius of Carthage! paint thy ruin'd pride; Towers, arches, fanes, in wild confusion strown; Let banish'd Marius, lowering by thy side, Compare thy fickle fortunes with his own. Ah no! thou monarch of the storms! forbear! My trembling nerves abhor thy rude control; And scarce a pleasing twilight soothes my care, Ere one vast deathlike darkness shocks my soul. Forbear thy rage-on no perennial base Is built frail Fear, or Hope's deceitful pile; My pains are fled-my joy resumes its place, Should the sky brighten, or Melissa smile, When, for his tomb, with each revolving year, I'll add the myrtle for Ophelia's sake. When Death's chill rigour seiz'd his flowing tongue; The more I found his faultering notes decay, The more prophetic truth sublim'd the song. "Adieu, my flocks :" he said! "my wonted care, By sunny mountain, or by verdant shore ! May some more happy hand your fold prepare, And may you need your Colin's crook no more! "And you, ye shepherds! lead my gentle sheep; To breezy hills, or leafy shelters lead; 'But if the sky with showers incessant weep, Avoid the putrid moisture of the mead. "Where the wild thyme perfumes the purpled heath, Long loitering there your fleecy tribes extendBut what avail the maxims I bequeath? The fruitless gift of an officious friend! "Ah! what avails the timorous lambs to guard, Though nightly cares, with daily labours, join? If foreign sloth obtain the rich reward, If Gallia's craft the ponderous fleece purloin. "Was it for this, by constant vigils worn, I met the terrours of an early grave; For this I led them from the pointed thorn? For this I bath'd them in the lucid wave? "Ah heedless Albion! too benignly prone Thy blood to lavish, and thy wealth resign! Shall every other virtue grace thy throne, But quick-ey'd Prudence never yet be thine? "From the fair natives of this peerless hill Thou gav'st the sheep that browze Iberian plains: Their plaintive cries the faithless region fill, Their fleece adorns an haughty foe's domains. "Ill-fated flocks! from cliff to cliff they stray; Far from their dams, their native guardians far! Where the soft shepherd, all the livelong day, Chants his proud mistress to his hoarse guitar. "But Albion's youth her native fleece despise; Unmov'd they hear the pining shepherd's moan; In silky folds each nervous limb disguise, Allur'd by every treasure but their own. "Oft have I hurry'd down the rocky steep, Anxious to see the wintry tempest drive; 'Preserve,' said I, preserve your fleecy sheep! Ere long will Phillis, will my love arrive.' "Fre long she came: ah! woe is me, she came ! Rob'd in the Gallic loom's extraneous twine: For gifts like these they give their spotless fame, Resign their bloom, their innocence resign. "Will no bright maid, by worth, by titles known, Give the rich growth of British hills to Fame? And let her charms, and her example, own That Virtue's dress, and Beauty's, are the same? "Will no fam'd chief support this generous maid? Once more the patriot's arduous path resume? And, comely from his native plains array'd, Speak future glory to the British loom? "What power unseen my ravish'd fancy fires? I pierce the dreary shade of future days; Sure 't is the genius of the land inspires, To breathe my latest breath in ***'s praise. "O might my breath for ***'s praise suffice, ELEGY XIX. WRITTEN IN SPRING 1743. AGAIN the labouring hind inverts the soil; And finds me vacant in the rural cave. As the soft lyre display'd my wonted loves, The pensive pleasure and the tender pain, My time, unlavish'd in pursuit of power. Abjure these scenes from venal passions free; Know, in this grove, I vow'd perpetual hate, War, endless war, with lucre and with thee. Here, nobly zealous, in my youthful hours, I drest an altar to Thalia's name : Here, as I crown'd the verdant shrine with flowers, Soft on my labours stole the smiling dame. "Damon," she cry'd, "if pleas'd with honest praise, Thou court success by virtue or by song, Fly the false dictates of the venal race; Fly the gross accents of the venal tongue. "Swear that no lucre shall thy zeal betray; Swerve not thy foot with Fortune's votaries more; Brand thou their lives, and brand their lifeless day"-The winning phantom urg'd me, and I swore. Forth from the rustic altar swift I stray'd, "Aid my firm purpose, ye celestial powers! Aid me to quell the sordid breast," I said; And threw my javelin tow'rds their hostile towers'. Think not regretful I survey'd the deed; 2 Or added years no more the zeal allow; Still, still observant to the grove I speed, The shrine embellish, and repeat the vow. Sworn from his cradle Rome's relentless foe, Such generous hate the Punic champion bore; Thy lake, O Thrasimene! beheld it glow, And Canna's walls, and Trebia's crimson shore. But let grave annals paint the warrior's fame; Fair shine his arms in History enroll❜d; Whilst humbler lyres his civil worth proclaim, His nobler hate of avarice and gold.— Now Punic pride its final eve survey'd ; Its hosts exhausted, and its fleets on fire: Patient the victor's lurid frown obey'd, And saw th' unwilling elephants retire. 1 A Roman ceremony in declaring war. 2 Hannibal. But when their gold depress'd the yielding scale, He saw their tears, and in his fury smil'd. Frantic with grief, delirious with disdain! The sordid source of your indecent woe! ELEGY XX. He compares his humble fortune with the distress Nor tempt the proud to quit his destin'd way? Nor costly art my flowery dales disguise, Where only simple Friendship deigns to stray? See the wild sons of Lapland's chill domain, That scoop their couch beneath the drifted snows! How void of hope they ken the frozen plain, Where the sharp East for ever, ever blows! Slave though I be, to Delia's eyes a slave, My Delia's eyes endear the bands I wear; The sigh she causes well becomes the brave, The pang she causes, 'tis e'en bliss to bear. See the poor native quit the Libyan shores, Ah! not in Love's delightful fetters bound! Shall I the mockery of grief display? He stole one secret moment, to repine. But smooth'd, and suited to the sounding lyre. "Why am I ravish'd from my native strand? What savage race protects this impious gain? Shall foreign plagues infest this teeming land, [main? And more than sea-born monsters plough the "Here the dire locust's horrid swarms prevail; Here the blue asps with livid poison swell; Here the dry dipsa with his sinuous mail;Can we not here secure from Envy dwell? "When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace, When the stern panther sought his midnight prey, What fate reserv'd me for this Christian race? O race more polish'd, more severe than they ! "Ye prowling wolves, pursue my latest cries! Thou hungry tiger, leave thy reeking den! Ye sandy wastes, in rapid eddies rise! O tear me from the whips and scorns of men! "Yet in their face superior beauty glows; Are smiles the mien of Rapine and of Wrong? Yet from their lip the voice of Mercy flows, And e'en Religion dwells upon their tongue. "Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes, Where gentle minds convey'd by Death repair, But stain'd with blood, and crimson'd o'er with crimes, Say, shall they merit what they paint so fair? "No, careless, hopeless of those fertile plains, Rich by our toils, and by our sorrows gay, They ply our labours, and enhance our pains, And feign these distant regions to repay. "For them our tusky elephant expires; For them we drain the mine's embowel'd gold; Where rove the brutal nation's wild desires? Our limbs are purchas'd, and our life is sold! "Yet shores there are, blest shores for us remain, And favour'd isles with golden fruitage crown'd, Where tufted flowrets paint the verdant plain, Where every breeze shall med'cine every wound. "There the stern tyrant that embitters life Shall, vainly suppliant, spread his asking hand; There shall we view the billow's raging strife, Aid the kind breast, and waft his boat to land." ELEGY XXI. Taking a view of the country from his retirement, he is led to meditate on the character of the ancient Britons. Written at the time of a rumoured tax upon luxury, 1746. THUS Damon sung-What tho' unknown to praise To view sleek vassals crowd a stately hall, Say, should I grow myself a solemn slave! To find thy tints, O Titian! grace my wall, Forgo the flowery fields my fortune gave? Lord of my time, my devious path I bend, [lawn; Through fringy woodland, or smooth-shaven Or pensile grove, or airy cliff ascend, And hail the scene by Nature's pencil drawn. Thanks be to Fate-though nor the racy vine, Nor fattening olive clothe the fields I rove, Sequester'd shades, and gurgling founts are mine, And every sylvan grot the Muses love. Here if my vista point the mouldering pile, To think the mental bondage is no more! Pleas'd if the glowing landscape wave with corn; Or the tall oaks, my country's bulwark, rise; Pleas'd, if mine eye, o'er thousand valleys borne, Discern the Cambrian hills support the skies. And see Plinlimmon! e'en the youthful sight Scales the proud hill's ethereal cliffs with pain! Such Caer-caradoc! thy stupendous height, Whose ample shade obscures th' Iernian main. Bleak, joyless regions! where, by science fir'd, Some prying sage his lonely step may bend; There, by the love of novel plants inspir'd, Invidious view the clambering goats ascend. For here he saw fair Liberty recede. The rude majestic monument arose. "Hark! from the sacred oak that crowns the groves, What awful voice my raptur'd bosom warms; This is the favour'd moment Heaven approves; Sound the shrill trump; this instant, sound to arms." Theirs was the science of a martial race, To shape the lance, or decorate the shield; Nor Virtue's call, nor Fame's imperial prize. If Freedom's awful clarion breath'd to war. Or at a favourite's board his faith resign. Leave then, O Luxury! this happy soil! Chase ber, Britannia, to some hostile shore! Or fleece the baneful pest with annual spoil', And let thy virtuous offspring weep no more! ELEGY XXII. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR WHEN THE RIGHTS OF SE- SAY, gentle Sleep, that lov'st the gloom of night, That led the dance beneath the festive shade! But she that in the morning of her day, Entomb'd beneath the grass-green sod was laid. No more her eyes their wonted radiance cast; No more her breast inspir'd the lover's flame, No more her cheek the Pæstan rose surpast; Yet seem'd her lips' ethereal smile the same. Nor such her hair as deck'd her living face; Nor such her voice as charm'd the listening crowd; Nor such her dress as heighten'd every grace; Alas! all vanish'd for the mournful shroud! Yet seem'd her lips' ethereal charm the same; That dear distinction every doubt remov'd; Perish the lover, whose imperfect flame Forgets one feature of the nymph he lov'd. "Damon," she said, "mine hour allotted flies; Though griev'd to see thy Silvia's pale disguise, Oh! do not waste it with a fruitles tear! Suspend thy sorrow, and attentive hear. "So may thy Muse with virtuous fame be blest! So be thy love with mutual love repaid! So may thy bones in sacred silence rest, Fast by the relics of some happier maid. "Thou know'st, how lingering on a distant shore Disease invidious nipt my flowery prime; And oh! what pangs my tender bosom tore, To think I ne'er must view my native clime! "No friend was near to raise my drooping head; No dear companion wept to see me die; 'Lodge me within my native soil,' I said; 'There my fond parents' honour'd relics lie.' "Though now debarr'd of each domestic tear; Unknown, forgot, I meet the fatal blow; There many a friend shall grace my woful bier, And many a sigh shall rise, and tear shall flow. "I spoke, nor Fate forbore his trembling spoil; Some vernal mourner lent his careless aid; And soon they bore me to my native soil, Where my fond parents' dear remains were laid. "Twas then the youths, from every plain and grove Adorn'd with mournful verse thy Silvia's bier; 'T was then the nymphs their votive garlands wove, And strew'd the fragrance of the youthful year. 1 Alludes to a tax upon luxury. |