To Twecdale's taste, to Edgecumbe's sense Ere half her sons, o'er Asia's trembling coast, serene,

Arm’d to revenge one woman's virtue lost; And (Envy spare this boast) to Britain's queen; Ere he, whom Circe sought to charm in vain, Kind to the lay that all unlabour'd dow'd, Follow'd wild fortune o'er the various main, W'hat Fancy caught, where Nature's pencil In youth's gay bloom he plied th' exulting oar, glow'd',

From Ithaca's white rocks to Sparta's shore : She saw the path to hew, tho' humble fame, Free to Nerician gales * the vessel glides, Gave me her praise, and left me fools to blame. And wild Eurotass smoothes his warrior tides; Strong in their weakness are each woman's Foram'rous Greece, when Lore conducts the way, charms,

Beholds her waters, and ber winds obey. Dread that endears, and softness that disarms. No ohject hers but Love's impression knows, The tim'rous eye retiring from applause, No wave that wanders, and no breeze that blows, And the mild air that fearfully withdraws, Her groves“, her mountains have his power conMarks of our power these humble graces prove,

fest, And, dash'd with pride, we deeper drink of love. And Zephyr sigh'd not but for Flora's breast.

Chief of those charms that bold the heart in 'Twas when his sighs in sweetest whispers At thy fair shrine, O Modesty, we fall. [thrall,

stray'd Not Cynthia rising o'er the wat'ry way, Far o'er Laconia's plains from Eva's I shade! When on the dim wave falls her friendly ray ; When soft-ey'd Spring resum'd his mantle gay, Not the pure ether of Æolian skies,

And lean'd luxurious on the breast of May, That drinks the day's first glories as they rise ; Love's genial banners young Ulysses bore Not all the tints from evening-clouds that break, From Ithaca's white rocks to Sparta's shore. Burn in the beauties of the virgin's cheek ;

With all that soothes the heart, that wins, or When o'er that cheek, undisciplin'd by art,

warms, The sweet suffusion rushes from the heart, All princely virtues, and all manly charms,

Yet the soft blush, untutor'd to control, All love can urge, or eloquence persuade, The glow that speaks the susceptible soul, The future hero woo'd his Spartan maid. Led by nice honour, and by decent pride, Yet long he woo'd-in Sparta, slow to yield, The voice of anc ent virtue taught to hide; Beauty, like valour, long maintain'd the field. Taught beaui y's bloom the searching eye to shun, “No bloom so fair Messene's banks disclose, As early fi.wers blow fearful of the Sun.

No breath so pure o'er Tempe's bosom blows ; Far as the lung records of time we trace No smile so radiant throws the genial ray Still fow'd the veil u'er modlesty's fair face : Thro' the fair eye-lids of the op'ning day; The guard of beauty, in whose friendly shade, But deaf to vows with fondest passion prest, Safe from each eye the featur’d soul is laid, - Cold as the wave of Hebrus' wint'ry breast, The pensive thought that paler looks betray, Penelope regards her lover's pain, The tender grief that steals in tears away, And owns Ulysses eloquent in vain.

The hopeless wish that prompts the frequent sigh “ To vows that vainly waste their warmth in Bleeds in the blush, or melts upon the eye.

air, The map of faith thro' Gerar doom'u to stray, Insidious hopes that lead but to despair, A nation waiting his eventful way,

Affections lost, desires the heart must rue, His fortune's fair companion at bis side, And love, and Sparta's joyless plains, adieu! The world his promise, Providence his guide ; “ Yet still this bosom shall one passion share, Once, more than virtue dar'd to value life, Still shall my country find a father there. And call'd a sister whom he owu'd a wife.

Ev'n now the children of my little reign Mistaken father of the faithful race,

Demand that father of the faithless main, Thy fears alone could purchase thy disgrace. Ev'n now, their prince solicitous to save, “Go” to the fair, when conscious of the tale, Climb the tall cliff, and watch the changeful Said Gerar's prince, “thy husband is thy veil 3.”

wave. O ancient faith! O virtue mourn'd in vain! “ But not for him their hopes or fears alone! When Hymen's altar never held a stain;

They seek the promis'd partner of his throne; When his pure torch shed undiminish'd rays, For her their inceuse breathes, their altars blaze, And fires unboly died beneath the blaze! For her to Heaven the suppliant eye they raise. For faith like this fair Greece was early known, Ah! shall they know their prince implor'd in And claim'd the veil's first bonours as her own.

vain?

Can my heart five bencath a nation's pain?" · The Fables of Flora.

There spoke the virtue that her soul admir'd, • Plato mentions two provinces in Persia, one The Spartap soul, with patriot ardour fir'd. of which was called the Queen's Girdle, the other “Enough!" she cried" Be mine to boast a the Queen's Veil, the revenues of wbich, no

part doubt, were employed in purchasing ihose parts In him, who holds his country to his heart. of her majesty's dress. It was about the middle Worth, bonour, faith, that fair affection gives, of the third century, that the eastern women, on And with that virtue, ev'ry virtue lives. B) taking the vow of virginity, assumed that veil which had before been worn by the Pagan • From the mountain Nericos in Ithaca, dow priestesses, and which is used by the religious called Nericia. among the Rumanists now.

The Spartan river. 3 “ He is the veil of thine eyes to all that are 6 E merite d'Alberghe amore. --Tasso. with thee, and to all others."'-Gen. xx. 10. Vet. ? A mountain in Peloponnesus. Trans.

$ Omnes omnium caritates, &c.--Cic.

a

Pleas'd that the nobler principles could move And taught the maids of Greece this sovereign Ilis daughter's heart, and soften it to love,

Jaw_ Icarius owo'd the auspices divine,

She most shall conquer, who shall most withWove the fair crown 9, and bless'd the holy

draw. shrine. But ah! the dreaded parting hour to brave! Then strong affection griev'd for what it gave. Should he the comfort of his life's decline,

VERSES IN MEMORY OF A LADY. His life's last charm to Ithaca resign?

WRITTEN AT SANDGATE CASTLE, 1768. Or, wand'ring with her to a distant shore, Bebold Eurotas' long-lov'd banks no more? Nec tantum ingenio, quantum servire dolori. Expose his grey hairs to an alien sky,

PROPERT. Nor on his country's parent bosom die lo? “No, prince," he cried ; " for Sparta's hap- Let others boast the base and faithless pride, pier plain

No nuptial charm to known, or known, to hide, Leave the lov'd honours of thy little reign.

With vain disguise from Nature's dictates part, The grateful change shall equal honours bring.

For the poor triumph of a vacant heart; -Lord of himself, a Spartan is a king."

My verse the god of tender vows iuspires, When thus the prince, with obvious grief Dwells on my soul, and wakens all her fires. opprest,

Dear, silent partner of those happier hours, "Canst thou not force the father from thy breast?

That pass'd in Hackthorn's vales, in Blagdon's Not without pain benold one child depart,

bowers ! Yet bid me tear a nation from my heart?

If yet thy gentle spirit wanders here, -Not for all Sparta's, all Eubra's plains' –

Borne by its virtues to no nobler sphere; He said, and to bis coursers gave the reins.

If yet that pity which, of life possest, Still the fond sire pursues with suppliant voice;

Fillid thy fair eye, and lighten'd thro' thy breast; Till, mov'd, the monarch yields her to her if yet that tender thought, that gen'rous care, choice.

The gloomy power of endless night may spare ; “ Tho' mine by vows, by fair affection mine,

Oh! while my soul for thee, for thee complains, And holy truth, and auspices divine,

Catch her warm sighs, and kiss her bleeding This suit let fair Penelope decide,

strains.

[breath, Remain the daughter, or proceed the bride."

Wild, wretched wish! Can pray'r with feeble O'er the quick blush her friendly mantle fell,

Pierce the pale ear, the statu'd ear of death ? And told him all that modesty could tell.

Let patience pray, let hope aspire to prayer ! No longer now the father's fondness strove

And leave me the strong language of despair ! With patriot virtue or acknowledg'd love,

Hence, ye vain painters of ingenious woe, But on the scene that parting sighs endeard,

Ye Lytteltons, ye shining Petrarchs, go! Fair Modesty's" first honour'd fane he rear'd.

I hate the languor of your lenient strain, The daughter's form the pictur'd goddess Your flow’ry grief, your impotence of pain. wore,

Oh! had ye known what I have known, to The daughter's veil 12 before her blushes bore,

prove

The searching flame, the agonies of lore! 9 The women of ancient Greece, at the mar. Oh! bad ye known how souls to souls impart riage ceremony, wore garlands of Aowers, pro- Their fire, or mix the life-props of the neart ! bably as emblems of purity, fertility, and beauty. Not like the streams that down the mountain Thus Euripides,

side αλλ' όμως

Tunefully mourn, and sparkle as thy glide ; Σοι κατασεψατ' έγωνιν ήνον, ως γαμουμενην" Ipu,

Not like the breeze, that sighs at ev'ning-hour, The modern Greek ladies wear these garlands in your stronger grief, in stronger accents borne,

On the soft bosom of some folding flower ; various forms, whenever they appear dressed ;

Had sooth'd the breast with burning anguish and frequently adorn themselves thus for their

tort. own amusement, and when they do not expect to

The voice of seas, the winds that rouse the deep, be seen by any but their domestics. Voyage Litteraire de la Grece. Far-sounding floods that tear the mountain's

steep; 10 The ancients esteemed this one of the

Each wild and melancholy blast that rares greatest misfortunes that could befall them. The

Round these dim towers, and smites the beating Trojans thought it the most lamentable circum

(breath, stance attending the loss of their pilot Palinurus, This soothes my soul-Tis Nature's mournful that his body should lie in a foreign country.

"Tis Nature struggling in the arms of death! - Ignotâ, Palinure, jacebis arenâ.

See, the last aid of her expiring state, 11 Pausanias, who has recorded the story on

See Love, e'en Love, has lent his darts to fate !! which this little poem is founded, tells us that this was the first temple erected 10 Modesty in Greece.

Iphig. in Taur. Act. iv.; and Colut. Rapt. Helen. 12 See the Veil of Modesty in the Musum lib. i. v. 381, where Hermione tears her goldCapitolinum, vol. i.; and for further proofs embroidered veil on the disappearance of Helen: of its high antiquity, see Hom. Odyss. lib. vi. Aureum quoqne rupit capitis tegmen. Claud. Epithal. Honor. where he says,

· The lady died in child-bed. Et crines festina ligat, peplumque fluentem Allevat

waves

Ob! when beneath his golden shafts I bled, Yet not within the hospitable ball
And'vainly bound bis trophies round my head: The cheerful sound of human voice Ihear >
Wben crown'd with flowers, he led the rosy day, No piteous eye is near,
Liv'd to my eye, and drew my soul away- To see me drooping on the lonely wall,
Could fear, could fancy, at that tender hour,
See the dim grave demand the nuptial flower?
There, there his wreathes dejected Hymen
strewd;

TO A REDBREAST.
And mourn'd their bloom unfaded as he view'd.

Little bird, with bosom red, There each fair hope, each tenderness of life,

Welcome to my humble shed ! Each nameless charm of soft obliging strife,

Courtly domes of high degree Delight, love, fancy, pleasure, genius Aed,

Hare no room for thee and me; And the best passions of my soul lie dead;

Pride and pleasure's fickle throug All, all is there in cold oblivion laid,

Nothing mind an idle song.
But pale remembrance bending o'er a shade.

Daily near my table steal,
O come, ye softer sorrows, to my breast !
Ye lenient sighs, that slamber into rest! [wave, Doubt not, little though there be,

While I pick my scanty meal.
Come, soothing dreams, your friendly pinions But I'll cast a crumb to thee ;
We'll bear the fresh rose to yon honour'd grave; Well rewarded, if I spy
For once this pain, this frantic pain forego,

Pleasure in thy glaucing eye ;
And feel at last the luxury of woe !

See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Ye holy suff'rers, that in silence wait

Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
The last sad refuge of relieving fate!
That rest at eve beneath the cypress gloom,

Come, iny feather'd friend, again,

Well thou know'st the bruken pane. And sleep familiar on your future tomb;

Ask of me thy daily store ; With you I'll waste the slow-departing day,

Go not wear Avaro's door; And wear with you th' uncolour'd bours away.

Once within bis iron hall,
Oh! lead me to your cells, your lonely ailes,

Woeful end shall thee befall.
Where resignation folds her arms and smiles :
Where holy faith unwearied vigils keeps,

Savage !—He would soon divest
And guards the urn where fair Constantiasleeps: Then, with solitary joy,

Of its rosy plumes thy breast; There, let me there in sweet oblivion lie,

Eat thee, bones and all, my boy! And calmly feel the tutor'd passions die.

A CONTEMPLATION,
MONODY.

O Nature! grateful for the gifts of miod,
SUNG BY A REDBREAST,

Duteous I bend before thy holy shrine ;

To other hands be Fortune's goods assign'd, The gentle pair that in these lonely shades,

And thou, more bountevus, grant me only Wand'ring, at eve or morn, I oft have seen,

thine. Now, all in vain, I seek at eve or morn, With drooping wing, forlorn,

Bring gentlest Love, bring Fancy to my breast; Along the grove, along the daisied green.

And if wild Genius, in his devious way, For them I've warbled mapy a summer's day,

Would sometimes deign to be my ev’ning guest, Till the light dews impearled all the plain,

Or near my lone shade not unkindly stray: And the glad shepherd shut his nightly fold ; I ask no more! for happier gifts than these, Stories of love, and high adventures old

The sufl’rer, man, was never born to prove; Were the dear subjects of my tuneful strain. But may my soul eternal slumbers seize,

Ah! where is now the hope of all my lay? If lost to Genius, Fancy, and to Lore! Now they, percbance, thai heard them all are

dead !
With them the meed of melody is fled,
And Aed with them the iistning ear of praise.

MENALCAS.
Vainly I dreamt, that when the wint'ry sky
Scatter'd the wbite food on the wasted plain,
When not one berry, not one leaf was nigh,

Now cease your sweet pipes, shepherds! cease To sooth keen hunger's pain,

your lays, Vainly I dreamt my songs might not be vain.

Ye warbling train, that fill the echoing grores That oft within the hospitable ball

With your melodious love-notes! Die, ye winds, Some scatter'd fragment haply I might find,

That o'er Arcadian valleys blow ! ye streams, Some friendly crumb perchance for ne design'd, Ye garrulous old streams, suspend your course,

Apd listen to Mepalcas.-
When seen despairing on the neighbouring wall.
Deluded bird, those bopes are now po more!
Dull Time has blasted the departing year,
And Winter frowns severe,

Come, fairest of the beanteons train that sport

On Ladon's flow'ry side, my Delia, eome!
Wrapping bis wan limbs in bis mantle hoar;

For thee thy shepherd, silent as he sits
See Spectator, No. 164.

Within the green wood, sighs: fər thee prepares

A PASTORAL.

MENALCAS.

INSCRIPTIONS...MONODY...IMITATION OF WALLER.

459

IN THE ISLAND OF SICILY.

The various wreathes in vain ; explores the | Ah me! my friend ! in happier hours I spread, shade

Like thee, the wild walk o'er the varied plain ; Where lowly larks the violet blue, where droops, The fairest tribe of Flora's painted train, In tender beauty, its fair spotted bells,

Each bolder shrub that grac'd her genial bed, The cowslip: oft with plaintive voice he calls When old Sylvanus, by young wishes led, The wakeful Ech What are streams or flowers, Stole to her arms, of such fair offspring vain, Or songs of blithe birds ?' What the blushing That bore their mother's beauties on their head.' rose,

Like thee, inspir'd by lovetwas Delia's charms! Young health, or music, or the voice of praise, 'Twas Delia's taste the new creation gave : The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath For her my groves in plaintive sigbs would Of ev'ning gales, when Delia dwells afar?

wave, And call her absent to their master's arms. She comesYe flowers, your fairest blooms are

fold, IYSCRIPTIONS ON A BEECH TREE,

Ye waving groves, your plaintive sighs forbear,

Breathe all your fragrance to the am'rous air,

Ye smiling shrubs whose heads are cloth'd with Sweet land of Muses! o'er whose favour'd

gold ! plains

She comes, by truth, by fair affection led, Ceres and Flora held alternate sway;

The long lov'd mistress of my faithful heart! By Jove refresh'd with life-diffusing rains, The mistress of my soul, no more to part,

By Phæbus blest with ev'ry kinder ray! And all my hopes and all my vows are sped. O with what pride do I those times survey,

Vain, vain delusions ! dreams for ever fled ! When Freedom, by her rustic minstrels led,

Ere twice the spring had wak'd the genial hour, Danc'd on the green lawn many a summer's The lovely parent bore one beauteous flower, day,

And droop'd her gentle head, While pastoral Ease reclin'd her careless head. And sunk, for ever sunk, into her silent bed. In these soft shades : ere yet that shepherd Aled,

Friend of my genius! partner of my fate ! Whose music pierc'd Earth,air,and Heav'n and To equal sense of painful suffering born!

From whose fond breast a lovely parent torn, Hell, And call'd the ruthless tyrant of the dead

Bedew'd thy pale cheek with a tear so late

Oh! let us mindful of the short, short date, Froin the dark slumbers of his iron cell.

That bears the spoil of human hopes away, His ear unfolding caught the magic spell : He felt the sounds glide softly through his Indulge sweet mem'ry of each happier day!

No, close, for ever close the iron gate heart;

(tell; Of cold oblivion on that dreary cell, The sounds that deign'd of Love's sweet power to Where the pale shades of past enjoyments dwell, And, as they told, would point his golden

And, pointing to their bleeding bosoms, say, dart.

“ On life's disastrous hour what varied woes Fix'd was the god : nor power had he to part,

await !" For the fair daughter of the sheaf-crown'd

Let scenes of softer, gentler kind, queen,

Awake to fancy's soothing call, Fair without pride, and lovely withont art, And milder on the pensive inind, Gather'd her wild Aowers on the daisied green.

The shadow'd thought of grief shall fall. He saw, he sigh'd; and that unmelting breast, Oft as the slowly-closing day Which arms the hand of death, the power of Draws her pale mantle from the dew-star's eye, love confest:

What time the shepherd'scry

Leads from the pastur'd hills his flocks away,

Attentive to the tender lay

That steals from Philomela's breast,
A MONODY,

Let us in musing silence stray,

Where Lee beholds in mazes slow
INSCRIBED TO MY WORTHY FRIEND

His uncomplaining waters flow,
JOHN SCOTT, ESQ.

And all his whisp'ring shores invite the charms

of rest.
BEING WRITTEN IN HIS GARDEN AT AMWELI, IN
HERTFORDSHIRE, THE BECINNING OF THE YEAR 1769.
Friend of my genius! on whose natal hour,

IMITATION OF WALLER.
Shone the same star, but shone with brighter

ray ; Oft as amidst thy Amwell's shades / stray, O

Sales of Penshurst, now so long unseen! And mark thy true taste in each winding bower, Forgot each shade secure, each winding green; From my full eye why falls the tender shower, These lonely paths, what art hare I to tread, While other thoughts than these fair scenes Where once young Love,the blind enthnisiast,led? convey,

Yet if the genius of your conscious groves Eear on my tremliling mind, and melts its His Sidney in my Sacharissa loves; powers away?

Let him with pride her cruel power unfold;
By him my pains let Evremond be told.

WALLER TO ST. E VREMOND.

ON HER RETIRING INTO A CONVENT.

more,

Dress, figure,splendour, charms of play, farewell, THE DUCHESS OF MAZARINE. And all the toilet's science to excel;

E'en Love that ambush'd in this beauteous hair,

No more shall lie, like Indian archers, there.
YE
E holy cares that haunt these lonely cells,

Go, erring Love! for nobler objects given !
These scenes where salutary sadness dwells;

Go, beauteous hair, a sacrifice to Heaven ! Ye sighs that minute the slow wasting day,

Soon shall the veil these glowing features hide, Ye pale regrets that wear my life away;

At once the period of their power and pride! O bid these passions for the world depart,

The helpless lover shalt no more complain These wild desires, and vanities of heart,

Of vows unbeard, or unrewarded pain; Hide every trace of vice, of follies past,

While calmly sleep in each untutor'd breast And yield to Heaven the vietory at last.

My secret sorrow, and his sighs profest. To that the poor remains of life are due,

Go, flattering train! and, slaves to me ne 'Tis Heaven that calls, and I the call pursue. Lord of my life, my future cares are thine,

With the same sighs some happier fair adore ! My love, my duty greet thy holy shrine:

Your alter'd faith I blame uot, por bewailNo more my beart to vainer hopes I give,

And haply yet, (what woman is not frail ?) But live for ibee, whose bounty bids me live.

Yet, haply, might I calmer minutes proie, The power that gave these little charms their If he that lov'd me knew no other love! grace,

Yet were that ardour, which his breast inHis favours bounded, and confind their space;

spir'd, Spite of those charms shall time, with rude essay, By charms of more than mortal beauty fir'd; Tear from the cheek the transient rose away. What nobler pride! could I to Heaven resign But the free mind, ten thousand ages past,

Tbe zeal, the service that I boasted mine ! Its Maker's form, shall with its Maker last.

O, change your false desires, ye flattering train, Uncertain objects still our homes employ;

And love me pious, whom you lov'd profane! Uncertain all that bears the name of joy!

These long adieus with lovers doom'd to go, Of all that feel the injuries of fate

Or prove their merit, or my weakness show, Uncertain is the search, and short the date,

But Heaven, to such soft frailties less severe, Yet ev'n that boon what thousands wish to gain? May spare the tribute of a female tear, That bbon of death, the sad resource of pain !

May yield one tender moment to deplore Once on my path all Fortune's glory fell,

Those gentle hearts that I must hold no more.
Her vain magnificence, and courtly swell :
Love touch'd my soul at least with soft desires,
And vanity there fed her meteor fires,
This truth at last the mighty scenes let fall,

THE AMIABLE KING.
An hour of innocence was worth them all.
Lord of my life! 0, let thy sacred ray

The free-born Muse her tribute rarely brings, Shine o'er my heart, and break its clouds away,

Or barns her incense to the power of kings! Deluding, flattering, faithless world, adieu ! But Virtue ever shall her voice commaud, Long hast thou taught me, God is only true:

Alike a spade or sceptre in her hand. That God alone I trust, alone adore,

Is there a prince untainted with a throne, No more deluded, and misled no more.

That makes the interest of mankind bis own; Come, sacred hour, when wav'ring doubts Whose bounty knows no bounds of time or place, shall cease!

Who nobly feels for all the human race : Come, holy scenes of long repose and peace! A prince that acts in reason's steady spbere, Yet shall my heart, to other interests true, No slave to passion, and no dupe to fear; A moment balance 'twixt the world and you?

A breast where mild humanity resides, Of pensive nights, of long-reflecting days,

Where virtue dictates, and where wisdom guides; Be yours, at last, the triumph and the praise.

A mind that, stretch'd beyond the years of Great, gracious Master, whose unbounded

youth, sway,

Explores the secret springs of taste and truth? Felt thro' ten thousand worlds, those worlds obey; | These, these are virtues which the Muse shall Wilt thou for once thy awful glories shade, And deign t espouse the creature thou hast And plant, for these, her laurels round a king! made?

Britannia's monarch! this shall be thy praise ; All other ties indignant I disclaim,

For this be crown'd with never-fading bays! Dishonour'd those, and infamous to name!

O fatal ties for which such tears I've shed.
For which the pleasures of the world lay dead!

THE HAPPY VILLAGER.
That world's soft pleasures you alone disarm;
That world without you, still might have its

Virtue dwells in Arden's vale;
charm.

There her hallow'd temples rise, But now those scenes of tempting hope I close, There her incense greets the skies, And seek the peaceful studies of repose:

Grateful as the morning gale; Look on the past as time that stole away, There, with humble Peace and her, And beg the blessings of a happier day.

Lives the happy villager; Ye gay saloons, ye golden-vested halls,

There, the golden smiles of morn Scenes of high treats, and heart-bewitching bails! Brighter every field adorn;

sing;