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A DESCRIPTION OF
With wary spaniels furrow'd fields beset, Amaz'd to find within this lonely cell
There no high-polish'd marble they behold, With leaden wounds trauşfix the flying game:
No storied columns, and no sculptur'd gold; Or with stanch bounds the wily fox pursue,
No speaking busts, no silver richly wrought, And trace his footsteps o'er the tainied dew. No breathing pictures seem'd infurin'd with With what delight would friendly N-y change
thought. Don's Is fertile valleys for this ampler range ?
The grott, dirided into various cells, And with the music of th' enlirening horn Was deck'd with spar, and variegated shells; Cheer the fleet pack, and wake the lirgering The place of tap'stry a young vine supply'd,
And spread her pliant arms on ev'ry side: But lo! faint Phoebus darts a languid ray,
Cool zephyrs, though the Sun intensely glow'd, And gold-edg'd clouds furetel the close of day; Breath'd through the place sweet freshness as The nymph observant took her airy flight,
they flow'd. And, like a vision, vanish'd from my sight.
O'er amarantbine beds fair fountains stray'd,
And, softly murmuring, in the meadows play'd, 1. Don. The river that runs by Doncaster. Or in broad basons pour'd the crystal wave,
Where oft the goddess vont her limbs to lave.
Here wav'd a wood, all giorious to behold;
Whose branches, in eternal blossom, yield
Fragrance delicious as the flowery field, Tilf queen he follow'd as she mov'd along, This wood, impervious to the solar ray, Surrounded by her nymphs, a beauteous throng; Crown'd the fair spot, and guarded it from day. Bnt far the fairest, and supremely tall,
Here birds melodious pour'd the sprightly song; She walk'd majestic, and outshone them all : There torrents thunder'd the rough rocks among, Thus 'midst a grove the princely oak appears, Down dash'd precipitately from the hills, And high in air bis branching honours rears. Then o'er the level lawn diffus'd their curling Her radiant beauty charm'd his youthful mind,
rills. Her purp'e robe that floated in the wind,
Calypso's grotto crown'd the breezy steep, Aød locks bound graceful with a clasp behind: From whence appeard the party-colour'd deep; But her bright eyes, instilling fond desire, Now smooth and even as a mirror seen, Beam'd sweetness temper'd with celestial fire. Now vainly wreaking on the rocks its spleen, Sage Mentor follow'd, as in thought profound, Indignant, foaming with tremendous roar, And silent fix'd his eyes upon the ground. And in huge mountains rolling to the shore, And now, conducted by the royal dame,
More pleasing was the prospect to the plain ; Soon to the entrance of her grott'they came, A river, winding through the rich champaign,
Form'd various isles with lines sweet-flowering "Perhaps the reader will not be displeased to
crown'd, see Homer's description of this famous grotto, as
And cloud-aspiring poplars border'd round. it is translated by Mr. Pope from the fifth book Among the banks the sportive waters play'd, of the Odyssey.
And woo'd the lovely islands which they made : Large was the grott, in which the nymph he Some swiftly pour'd their crystal currents strong; found,
Some led their waves with liquid lapse along ; (The fair-hair'd nymph with every beauty crown'd) With many an errour lingering seem'd to stray, She sat and sung; the rocks resound her lays :
As if they wish'd for ever here to stay, The cave was brighten'd with a rising blaze: And murmuring in their course reluctant rollid Cedar and frankincense, an odorous pile,
away. Flam'd on the hearth, and wide perfum'd the isle; The distant mountains their hoar heads on high While she with work and song the tinic divides,
Upheav'd, and lost their summits in the sky: And through the loom the golden shuttle guides.
Their airy forms fantastic pleas'd the sight, Without the grott, a various sylran scene
And fill'd the mind with wonder and delight. Appear'd around, and groves of living gren;
The neighb'ring bills were spread by nature's Poplars and alders ever quivering play'd,
boon And nodding cypress furm:d a fragrant shade;
With vines that hung in many a fair festoon ; On whose high branches, waving with the storm, whose swelling grapes in richest purple dy'd, The birds of broadest wing their mansion form ; The leaves attempted, but in vain, to hide: The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow,
So lov'd the generous vine to flourish here, And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below.
It bent beneath the plenty of the year. Depending vines the shelving cavern screen,
Here purple figs with luscious juice overflow'd, With purple clusters blushing through the green.
With deepen'd red the full pomegranate glow'd ; Pour limpid fountains from the clefts distil, The peaceful olive spread her branches round, And every fountain pours a several rill,
And every tree, with rerdant honours crown'd, In mazy windings wandering down the hill: Whose fruit the taste, whose flower the eye Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were
might cheer, crown'd,
And seem'd to make a new Llysium here. And glowing violets threw odours round.
And as, intent upon her charms,
Eugenio woos the damsel to his arms,
Her cheeks vermilion'd with a lovely blush,
Glow like twin roses on the verdant bush
While thus, methinks, I hear him say,
“ Come, my fair one, come away;
In the chaste joys of wedded love : Cead in flow'r-embroider'd veil,
I see propitious Hymen stand,
His torch bright-blazing in his hand,
To light us to the genial bed
By the decent Graces spread, And Eugenio, happy pair!
Where the rosy-finger's Hours Chang'd their hearts, and join'd their hands. Scatter never-fading flowers. Virgin coldness then relented,
Love admits not of delay, Like the snow before the Sun,
Haste, my fair one, haste away." Then sweet Emily consented,
Heav'n-favour'd pair, Not unwilling, to be won.
Who now the purest pleasures share,
In happy union may you long enjoy
Those heart-felt blandishments that never cloy; Ve sons of harmony, prepare
And may kind Heav'n the full abundance pour Your hymns to greet this happy pair : Of nuptial blessings in a fruitful shower ; Let the sweet notes, distinctly clear,
Crown all our wishes with a beauteous race, Io soft divisions melt upon the ear,
That may your bright accomplishments inSach as may all the tender passions move,
herit, Sootb the rapt soul, and be the food of love. The mother's mildness, loveliness, and grace,
The father's honest heart, and sense, and geRECITATIVE.
nervus spirit. Hark! the mighty queen of sound
Like two pure springs whose gentle rills unite, Wakes each instrument a ound,
Long may your stream of life serenely glide, The merry pipe, the mellow-breathing lute, Through verdant vales, and meadows of delight, The warbling lyre, the love-lamenting lute: Where flow'rs unnumber'd, deck'd in beauty's Now the light fantastic measure
(side. Rarishes our ears with pleasure;
Blow on the blissful banks, and bloom on either Now the trumpets loud and shrill,
May no rude tempest discompose From yon river-circled hill,
Your course of quiet as it flows, With manly notes our hearts inspire,
No clonded care, no chilling fear, And emulate the golden lyre;
Nor anxious inurmur hover there ; While the majescic, deep-mouth'd organs blow But mildest zephyrs on the surface play, In lengthen'd strains magnificently slow,
And waft each light disquietude away: Dicinely sweet, and delicately strong ;
Till after all the winding journey past, Till geotly dying by degrees,
You mingle with eternity at last. Like the last murmurs of the breeze,
That tranquil sea, where sorrows are no more, Expires the soft-attenuated song:
No storm-vext billows lash the peaceful shore : And at the close of each mellifluous lay,
There in Heav'n's bliss embosom'd, may you This rerse is sung in honour of the day.
The height of endless happiness and love.
THE DEATH OF THE LARK.
The golden Sun, emerging from the main,
Beams a bluelustre on the dewy plain;
Elate with joy all creatures hail his rise, Sooths desires that wildly roll,
That haunt the forest, or that skim the skies, And calms the tempests of the soul.
Gay-blooming flow'rs their various charms RECITATIVE.
A breathing fragrance, or a lovely hue : Put, lo! sweet Emily, the fair,
Sweet pipes the shepherd, the fair morn to groet, And Eugenio, happy pair!
To his stout team the ploughman whistles sweet. With placid look and graceful mien,
All nature smiles around. On airy wing
The lark, harmonious herald of the spring,
On the bright bosom of some fieccy cloud.
Ah ! little conscious that he dies to day, Mild as the gentlest season of the year, He sports his hour in innocence away, Blooming as health, and fresh as early day, And from the treble of his tunefulthmat Pair, sweet, and bright as all the flowers of May. Pours the sof: strain, or trills the sprighưly nole;
The seer then sooth'd him with this calm reply ; II. Samuel, Chap. xii.
“ Thy sin is pardon'd, and thou shall not die.
Thus may we clearly see each secret sin,
THE SONG OF DEBORAH.
Lend, Oye princes, to my song an ear,
While to the Lord the notes of praise I sing, Nurs'd by his hand, and with bis children bred, To Israel's God, the everlasting king. With them it wanton'd, and with them it fed; When from aerial Seir, in dread array, Of his own mess it eat without control,
From Edom when th' Almighty took his way, And drank the beverage of his milky bowl; “ On Cherub, and on Cherubim he rode," (God: Then lightly-sportful skipt, and, tir'd with play, The trembling Earth proclaim'd th' approach of Dear as a daughter in his bosom lay.
The heavens dissolv'd, the clouds in copious A traveller of no ignoble fame,
[plains: By chance conducted, to the rich mau carie;
Pour'd their black stores, and delug'd all the Yet from his herds he could not spare an ox
The rent rocks shiver'd on that awful day, To treat him, nor a wether from his flocks, And mountains melted like soft wax away. But took by cruel force, and kill'd and drest In Shamgar's days, in Jael's hapless reign, The poor man's lamb to feed his pamper'd guest.” How were the princes, and the people slain? The monarch paus'd—then made this stern When Sisera, terrific with bis hosts, reply
Pour'd dire destruction on pale Judah's coasts ; Incens'd: " I swear by God that rules the sky, The cities no inhabitants contain'd; The man that did this thing shall surely die: The public ways unoccupied remain'd; The lamb fourfold he likewise shall restore, The travellers through dreary deserts stray'd, To recompense the friendless and the poor: Or pensive wanderd in the lonely glade, Because his heart no soft compassion felt, Till, sent by Heaven, 1, Deborah, arose At other's woe unknowing how to melt.” To rule and rescue Israel from their foes.
“ Thou art the man," reply'd the holy seer, Those patriot warriors of immortal fame, • Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel, hear : Who sar'd their country all my favour claim: A king thou art, anointed at my call,
Ye judges, speak, ye shepherd swains, rehearse O'er Israel; and I rescued thee from Saul; Jehovah's praise in never-dying verse. And gave thee all thy master's servants lives, Awake, awake; raise, Deborah, thy voice, His large possessions, and his numerous wives: And in loud numbers bid the lyre rejoice: Was that too little? Could'st thou more require? Raise to the Lord of Heaven thy grateful song, I would have given thee all thy heart's desire. Who gave the weak dominion o'er the strong. Then wherefore didst thou God's commandment The tribes of Israel sent their mighty men, Committing this great evil in his sight? (slight, That wield the falchion, or that guide the pen. Lo! thou hast robb'd Uriah of his wife,
Gilead, Oh shame! by fountful Jordan lay, Defil'd his bed, and then destroy®d bis life, Dan in his ships, and Asher in his bay: Hast slaiu him with the adversary's sword : Their bleating flocks (ignoble care!) withheld Now therefore hear the judgment of the Lord, The tribes of Reuben from the tented field: And lock this awful sentence in thy heart; But chiefs intrepid to the conflict came, • The sword shall never from thy house depart, Heroes that fought for empire and for fame: For thou hast robb'd Uriah of his wife,
In T'aanach where Megiddo's streams are rollid, Defild his bed, and then destroy'd his life.' There fought the monarchs resolutely bold. Thus saith the Lord, nor thou his words despise, Heav'n's thunders to our foes destruction The power of evil in thy house shall rise,
wrought, Lo! I will take thy wives before thine eyes; The stars 'gainst Sisera conspiring fought. Thy concubines shall be in triumph led,
The river Kishon swept away the slain, The Sun shall see them in thy neighbour's bed: Kishon, that antient river, to the main. Tbou didst it secret-this thing shall be done For ever bless'd be Jael's honour'd name! Before all Israel, and before the Sun."
For ever written in the rolls of fame! Aghast, convict the mighty monarch stood, He ask'd refreshment from the limpid ware, And from his eyes stream'd sorrow in a flood; The milky beverage to the chief she gave: And while a sigh repentant hear'd bis breast, He drank, he slept extended on the floor, He thus the anguish of his sout exprest: [sword, She smote the warrior, and he wak'd no more : “ Thy words are sharper than the two-edg'd Low at her feet he bow'd his nail-pierc'd head; For I, alas! have sinn'd against the Lord.” Low at her feet he bow'd, he fell, he lay down Stung with remorse he mourn'd his past of
The hero's mother, anxious for his stay, With bitter tears, and heart-sprung penitence. Thus, fondly sighing, chid his long delay:
"What hopes, wbat fears my tortur'd bosom | A genius form'd in every light to shine, feels!
A well bred scholar, and a sage divine;
ON MRS. FOUNTAYNE,
DAUGHTER OF THOMAS WHICHCOT. ESQ. AND WIFE
TO THE DEAN OF YORK; WHO DIED IN CHILD-BED,
JULY 1750. ÆTAT. 19.
Je e'er thy bosom swell’d with grief sincere,
Farewel, bright pattern of unblemish'd youth, ON A VERY GOOD WOMAN. Of mildest merit, modesty, and truth !
Death snatch'd thy sweetness in the genial hour, Could marble know what virtue's buried here, Just when thy stem put forth its infant flower : This monument would scarce refuse a tear, Still blooms the tender flower; as oft we see But mourn, so early snatch'd from mortal life, Fair branches budding from the lifeless tree. The tenderest parent, and the dearest wife, Bless'd with sweet temper, and of soul so even, She seem'd a copy of the saints in Heaven.
ON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN,
WHO DIED FOR LOVE,
ON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN
IN A CHURCH IN CHESHIRE.
Wsex age, all patient, and without regret,
If modest merịt ever claim'd thy tear,
ON A WORTHY FRIEND
WHO WAS ACCOMPLISHED IN THE SISTER ARTS OF
MUSIC AND PAINTING.
Og born in liberal studies to excel,
ON JAMES FOX, ESQ.
ON THE REV. MR. COOKSON,
VICAR OF LEEDS.
I've sent you, dear Nanny, a basket of stuff,
The present is triffing, yet still you will find
ON THE MARRIAGE OF A COBLER AND A CHIMXEYread,
SWEEPER And as for the paper of souff, I suppose Ye sable sweepers, and ye coblers all, You are very well satisfied that's for your nose. My respects to all friends, as a favour I ask it, whether ye deal in smearing sont, or leather,
Sons of the chimney, masters of the stall, And I hope you'll remember to send back the
Hail to the day that joins your trades together. basket.
Huzza, my jolly coblers! and huzza, September 1744.
My sable sweepers! Hail the joyous day.
From Crispin, a good cobler when alive,
Who kept his stail at Hockley in the Hole,
With nut-brown beer encouraging his soul: ex me DEATH OF DOBBIN, THE BUTTERWOMAN's
A honnet blue he wore unon his head,
His nose was copper, and his jerkin red ; The death of faithful Dobbin I deplore ;
For conjurer and astrologer he past, Dame Jolt's brown horse, old Dubbin, is no
And mended understandings to his last.
Hozza, my jolly coolers ! and huzza,
My sable sweepers! Hail the joyous day. The cruel l'ates have snapt his rital thread, And gammer Jolt bewails old Dobbin dead.
Sly Jobson, though he never learn'd in France, From stony Cudham down to watery Cray, Not only mended shoes, but taught to dance; This bonest horse brought butter every day,
So when he'd worn bis pupils' soles quite out, Fresh butter meet to mix with nicest rolls, With leading of the bouby bears abont, And sometimes eggs, and sometimes geese and He soon repair'd the damage with his awl, fowls ;
And brought convenient custom to his stall. And though this horse to stand had ne'er a leg,
Huzza, my jolly cublers ! and huzza, He never dropt a goose, or broke an egg.
My sable sweepers! Hail the joyous day. Ye maids of Cray, your butter'd rolls deplore,
Nor less distinguish'd is your noble line, Dame Jolt's brown horse, old Dobbin, is no
Ye sweepers, sprung from pedigree divine !
Your ancient ancestor, whose name was Smut, Ost did the 'squire that keeps the great hall- Work'd at the forge, with Vulcan, in bis hut. house,
Once as the limpins god was hammering out Invite the willing vicar to a goose ;
Those tongs that pinch'd the Devil by the snout, For goose could make his kindred Muse aspire Smut chanc'd to jest upon his awkward frame, From earth to air, from water to the fire; Which chaf'd the bickering blacksmith into But now, alas ! his towering spirit's fled,
flame; His muse is founder'd, for poor Dobbin's dead.
He hurl'd his hammer at the joker's head, Last Friday was a luckless day, I wot,
Which sure had left him on the parement dead, For Friday last lean Dobbin went to pot;
But Smut was nimble, and, to shin the stroke, No drinks could cherish, no prescriptions save; Sheer up the chimney went, like wreaths of In C-n's hounds he found a living grave:
smoke; Weep all, and all (except sad dogs) deplore,
Happy to find so song a hole to creep in, Dame Jolt's brown horse, old Dobbin, is no
And since that time he took to chimney-sweeping.
Huzza, my jolly sweepers! hail the day!
My joily coblers ! rpar aloud huzza. Scnlk, Reynard, sculk in the securest grounds, Now Dobbin hunts thee in the shape of hounds : And you, meet couple, memorable match, 1 ate sure but slow he march'd as fout could fall, | May live with comfort in your cot of thatch; Snre to march slow whene'er he march'd at all; While venal members sell their venal friends, Now flecter than the pinions of the wind,
The cobler brings all soles to serve his ends. He leaves the huntsinen, and the hunt behind,
And as the fair miss Danae sate smiling, Pnrsues thee o'er the hills, and down the steep,
To see the gold come pattering through the tiling, Through the rough copse, wide woods, and waters Our sweeper joys to see the chininey drop her deep,
Meat, drink, and clothing, in a shower of copper. Along th' unbounded plain, along the lea,
Huzza, my joily coblers! Eni huzza, But has no pullet, and no goose for thee.
My sable sueepers ! Ilail the joyous day. Ye dogs, ye foxes, howl for Dobbin dead, Nor theu, o Muse, disdain the tear to shed;
Ye maids of Cray, your butter'd rolls deplore,
QUY OVER HIS PIPE.