There the Sun's declining ray

Paphian airs in ambush sleep Fairer paints the parting day :

On the still bosom of the deep; There tbe woodlark louder sings,

Paphian maids around her move, Zephyr moves on softer wings,

Keen-ey'd Hope, and Joy, and Love: Groves in greener bonours rise,

Their rosy breasts a thousand Cupids lave, Purer azure spreads the skies;

And dip their wanton wings, and beat the buxom There the fountains clearer flow,

wave. Flowers in brighter beauty blow:

But mark, of more than vulgar mein,
For, with Peace and Virtue, there

With regal grace and radiant eye,
Lives the happy villager.
Distant still from Arden's vale

A form in youthful majesty!
Britain, bail thy favour'd queen

n! Are the woes the bad bewail;

For her the conscious sea subsides; Distant fell Remorse, and Pain,

Old Ocean curbs bis thund'ring tiles, And Frenzy smiling o'er her chain! Grief's quick pang, Despair's dead groan,

O'er the glassy-bosom'd main

Venus leads her laughing train ;
Are in Arden's vale unknown:
Por, with Peace and Virtue, there

The Paphian maids move graceful by her side, Lives the happy villager!

And o'er the buxom waves the rosy Cupids ride, In his hospitable cell,

Fly, ye fairy-footed hours ! Love, and Truth, and Freedom dwell;

Fly, with aromatic flowers ! And, with aspect mild and free,

Such as bath'd in orient dews, The graceful nymph, Simplicity.

Beauty's living glow diffuse ; Hail, ye liberal graces, hail !

Such as in Idalia's grove Natives all of Arden's vale:

Breathe the sweets, the soul of love! for, with Peace and Virtue, there

Come, genial god of chaste delight, Lives the happy villager.

With wreathes of festive roses crown'd, And torch that burns with radiance bright,

And liberal robe that sweeps the ground ! HYMENEAL.

Bring the days of golden joy, ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS PRESENT MAJESTY.

Pleasures pure, that never cloy! Awake, thou everlasting lyre!

Bring to Britain's happy pair, That once the mighty Pindar strung,

All that's kind, and good, and fair! When wrapt with more than mortal fire,

George to thee devotes the day : The gods of Greece he sung ! Awake!

lo! Hymen, haste away. Arrest the rapid foot of Time again

Daughters of Jove! ye virgins sage, With liquid notes of joy, and pleasure's melting

That wait on Camus' boary age; strain.

That oft his winding vales along Crown'd with each beauteous flower that blows

Have smooth'd your silver-woven song; On Acidalia's tuneful side;

O wake once more those lays sublime, With all Aopia's rosy pride,

That live beyond the wrecks of time ! Where numerous Aganippe flows;

To crown your Albion's boasted pair,

The never-fading wreath prepare ; From Thespian groves and fountains wild,

While her rocks echo to this strain,
Come, thou yellow-vested boy,
Redolent of youth and joy,

“ The friends of freedom and of Britain reign." Fair Urania's favour'd child'! George to thee devotes the day:

SONG. lo ! Hymen, haste away!

'Tis o'er, the pleasing prospects o'er!
Daughter of the genial main!
Queen of youth and rosy smiles,

My weary heart can hope no more-
Queen of dimple-dwelling wiles ;

Then welcome, wan Despair !
Come with all thy Paphian train :

Approach with all thy dreadful train!

Wild Anguish, Discontent and Pain, 0, give the fair that blooms for Britain's throne, Thy melting charms of love, thy soul-enchanting

And thorny-pillow'd Care. zone!

Gay Hope, and Ease, and Joy, and Rest,

All, all that charms the peaceful breast,
Daughter of the genial main !

For ever I resign.
Bring that heart-dissolving power,
Which once in Ida's sacred bower

Let pale Anxiety instead,
The soul of Jove oppos'd in vain :

That has not where to lay her head,

And lasting woe, be mine.
The sire of gods thy conquering charms confess'd;
And, vanquish’d, sunk, sunk down of Juno's fos- It comes! I feel the painful woe-
t'ring breast.

My eyes for Solyman will flow

in silent grief again; She comes, the conscious sea subsides; Old Ocean curbs bis thund'ring tides :

Who, wand'ring o'er some mountain drear, Smooth the silken surface lies,

Now haply sheds the peusive tear,

And calls on me in vain.
Where Venus' Alow'ry chariot flies:

Perhaps, along the lonely shores,
I See Catullus.

He now the sea's blue breast explores,

WRITTEN IN

To watch the distant sail;

So lightly lie the turf on thee, Perhaps, on Sundah's hills forlorn,

Because thou lor'st simplicity.
He faints, with aching toil o'erborn,

And life's last spirits fail.
Ab, no! the cruel thought forbear!
Avaunt, thou fiend of fell despair,

THE PASTORAL PART OF
That only death canst give!
While Heav'n eternal rules above,

MILTON'S EPITAPHIUM DAMONIS. Almena yet may find her love,

O FOR the soft lays of Himeria's maids !
And Solyman may live!

The strains that died in Arethusa's shades ;
Tun'd to wild sorrow on her mournful shore.
When Daphnis, Hylas, Bion breath'd no more!
Thames' vocal wave shall ev'ry note prolong,

And all his villas learn the Doric song.
A COTTAGE-GARDEN,

How Thyrsis mourn'd his long lov'd Damon
AT A VILLAGE IN LORRAIN.

dead,

What sighs he utter'd, and what tears he shedOCCASIONED BY A TRADITION CONCERNING A

Ye dim retreats, ye wandering fountains knos,
TREE OF ROSEMARY,

Ye desert wilds bore witness to his woe:
Arbustuin loquitur.

Where oft in grief he past the tedious day,
O tuou, whom love and fancy lead

Or lonely languish'd the dull night away. To wander near this woodland bill,

Twice had the fields their blooming honours If ever music smooth'd thy quill,

bore; Or pity wak'd thy gentle reed,

And Autumn twice resign'd his golden store, Repose bereath my humble tree,

Unconscious of his loss, while Thyrsis staid If thou lov'st simplicity.

To woo the sweet Muse in the Tuscan shade:

Crown'd with ber favour, when he sought agaia Stranger, if thy lot has laid In toilsome scenes of busy life,

His flock forsaken, and his native plain;

When to his old elm's wonted shade return'dFull sorely may'st thon rue the strife

Then-ihen, he miss'd his parted friend—and Of weary passions ill repaid.

mourn'd. In a garden live with ine, If thou lov'st simplicity.

And go, he cry'd, my tender lambs, adieu!

Your wretched master has no time for you. Flowers have sprung for many a year

Yet are there pow'rs divine in Earth or sky? O'er the village maiden's grave,

Gods can they be who destin'd thee to die? That, one memorial sprig to save,

And shalt thou mix with shades of vulgar name; Bore it from a sister's bier;

Lost thy fair honours, and forgot thy fame? And, homeward walking, wept o'er me Not he, the god whose golden wand restrains The true tears of simplicity.

The pale ey'd people of the gloomy plains, And soon, her cottage window near,

Of Damon's fate shall thus regardless be, With care my slender stem she plac'd; Or suffer vulgar shades to herd with thee. And fondly thus her grief embrac'd;

Then go, he cry'd, &c. And cherish'd sad remembrance dear:

Yet while one strain my trembling tongue For love sincere and friendship free Are children of simplicity.

may try,

Not unlamenied, shepherd, shalt thou die. When past was many a painful day,

Long in these fields thy fame shall flourish fair, Sluw-pacing o'er the village green,

And Daphnis only greater honours share; In white were all its inaidens seen,

To Daphnis only purer vows be paid, And bore my guardian friend away.

Wbile Pan or Pales loves the vulgar shade. Ah death! what sacrifice to thee,

If truth or science may survive the grave, The ruins of simplicity.

Or, what is more, a poet's friendship sare, One gen'rous swain her heart approv'd,

Then go, &c. A youth whose food and faithful breast,

These, these are thine: for me what hopes With many an artless sigh confess'd,

remain ? In Nature's language, that he lov'd:

Save of long surrow, and of anguish vain. But, stranger, 'tis no tale to thee,

For who, still faithful to my side, shall go, Unless thou lov'st simplicity.

Like thee, through regions clad with chilling He died-and soon her lip was cold,

snow? And soon her rosy cheek was pale;

Like thee, the rage of fiery summers bear, 'The village wept to hear the tale,

When fades the wan flower in the burning air? When for both the slow bell toll’d

The lurking dangers of the chase essay, Beneath yon flow'ry turf they lie,

Or sooth with song and various tales the day? The lovers of simplicity.

Then go, &c. Yet one boon have I to crave;

To whom shall I my hopes and fears impart? Stranger, if thy pity bleed,

Or trust the cares and follies of my heart? Wilt thou do one tender deed,

Whose gentle councils put those cares to flight! And strew my pale flowers o'er their grave? Whose cheerful converse cheat the tedious night?

raves,

The social hearth when automn's treasures store, One gentle tear the British Chloris gave, Chill blow the winds without, and through the Chloris the grace of Maldou's purple wavebleak elm roar,

In raio—my grief no soothing words disarm, Then go, &e.

No future hopes, nor present good can charm. When the fierce suns of summer noons invade,

Then go, &c. And Pan reposes in the green-wood shade, The happier flocks one social spirit moves, The shepherds hide, the nymphs plunge down the same their sports, their pastures and their the deep,

(sleep.

lores;
And waves the hedge-row o'er the ploughman's | Their hearts to no peculiar object tend,
Ah! who shall charm with such address refin'd, None knows a far'rite, or selects a friend.
Such attic wit, and elegance of mind ?

So herd the various natires of the main,
Then go, &c.

And Proteus drives in crowds his scaly train ; Alas! now lonely round my fields I stray,

The feather'd tribes too find an easier fate, And lonely seek the pasture's wonted way.

The meaest sparrow still enjoys his mate; Or in soine din vale's mournful shade repose

And when by chance or wearing age she dies, There pensive wait the weary day's slow close,

The transient loss a second choice supplies. While showers descend, the gloomy teinpest Man, hapless man, for ever dooin'd to know

The dire vexations that from discord fow,
Aud o'er my head the struggling twilight waves.

In ali the countless numbers of his kind,
Then go, &c.

Can scarcely meet with one congenial mind;

If baply found, Death wings the fatal dart, Where once fair harvest cloth'd my cultur'd The tender union breaks, and breaks his heart. plain,

Then go, &c.
Now weeds obscene and vexing brambles reign;
The groves of myrtle and the clustering vine

Ah me! what erronr tempted me to go
Delight no more, for joy no more is mine.

O’er foreign mountains, and thro' Alpine snow? My flocks no longer find a master's care;

Too great the price to mark in Tyber's gloom Ev'n piteons as they gaze with looks of dumb The mournful image of departed Rome! despair.

Nay, yet immortal, could she boast again
Then go, &e,

The glories of her aniversal reign,

And all that Maro left his fields to see, Thy hazel, Tytorus, has no charms for me;

Too great the purchase to abandon thee! Nor yet thy wild ash, lov'd Alphesibee,

To leave thee in a land no longer seen! No more shall fancy ware her rural dream, Bid mountains rise, and oceans roll betwer By Ægan's willow, or Amynta's stream,

Ah! not embrace thee!--not to see thee dre
The trembling leaves, the fountains cool serene, Meet thy last looks, or close thy languid en
The murmuring zephyr, and the mossy green- Not one fond farewell with thy sbade to send
These smile unseen, and those unheeded play, Nor bid thee think of thy sarviving frier
I cut my shrubs, and careless walk'd away.

Then go, &c.
Then go, &c.

Ye Tuscan shepherds, pardon me tur 123 Mopsus, who knows what fates the stars dis- Dear to the Muse, to me for ever den pense,

The youth I mourn a Tuscan tite in And solves the grove's wild warblings into sense, See Lydian Lucca : for her son dep Thus Mopsus mark'd "what thus thy spleen days of ecstacy! when wrap: 1.2 can move?

Where Arno wanders down bis fr Some baleful planet, or some hopeless love? Pluck'd the pale violet, press co* The star of Saturn oft annoys the swain,

Or bade the myrtle's balms iratan And in the dull cold breast long holds his leaden | Delighted, heard amid the way reign."

Menalcas strive with Lreita 133
. Then go, &c.

Oft would my voice the time and
The nymphs too, piteous of their shepheril's Nor haply all unbredte var
Came the sad cause solicitous to know. [woe, For, shepherds, yet I was
“ Is this the port of jocuni south,” they cry,

The osier basket, and a
That look disgusted, and that downcast eye?

Francino crown'd me Gay smiles and love on that soft season wait;

And Dati 3 taerar es He's twice a wretch whom beauty wounds too late."

2 The Team E
Then go, &c.

that migrati
the disperare

as far as I Milton seems to have borrowed this senti.

Colony Thi ment from Guarini:

á whe Che se t'assale a la canuta etate

profesora Amoroso talento,

frien se
Havrai doppio tormento,

foreca
E di quel, che potendo non volesti,
E di quel, che volendo non potrai.

FROM THE BANKS OF THE IRWAN.

TO A LADY,
TO THE REV. MR. LAMB.

ON READING AN ELEGY WRITIEN BY HER ON THE

SEARCH OF HAPPINESS. LAMB, could the Muse that boasts thy forming care,

To seek the lovely nymph you sing, Unfold the grateful feelings of my heart, I've wander'd many a weary mile, Her hand for thee should many a wreath prepare, From grove to grove, from spring to spring;

And cull the choicest flowers with studious art. If here or there she deign'd to smile. For mark'd by thee was each imperfect ray

Nay what I now must blush to say, That haply wander'd o'er my infant mind;

For sure it bap'd in evil hour; The dawn of genius brighten'd into day,

I once so far mistook my way, As thy skill open'd, as thy lore refin'd.

To seek her in the haunts of power.

How should success my search betide,
Each uncouth lay that faulter'd from my tongue,
At eve or morn from Eden's murmurs caught; For Happiness on Arrowe's side,

When still so far I wander'd wrong?
Whate'er I painted, and whate'er I sung,

Was listning to Maria's song. Thorude the strain, tho' artless was the draught;

Delighted thus with you to stay,

What hope have I the nymph to see;
You wisely prais'd, and fed the sacred fire Unless you cease your magic lay,
That warms the breast with love and honest

Or bring her in your arms to me?
fame;
You swell'd to nobler heights the infant lyre,
Rais'd the low thought, and check'd th' exu-

TO ALMENA.
berant flame.
O conld the Muse in future times obtain

“Where trembling poplars shade their parent One humble garlaud from th’ Aonian tree !

vale, With joy I'd bind thy favour'd brows again,

And tune to melody the mountain gale;
With joy I'd form a fairer wreath for thee.

Where Irwan murmurs musically slow,
And breathing breezes through his osiers blow;

Friend of my heart, behold thy poet laid
EPISTLE TO MR.

In the dear silence of his native shade!

Ye sacred vales, whereof the Muse, unseen, F

ROM scenes where fancy no excursion tries, Led my light steps along the moon-light green; Nor trusts her wing to sinoke-envelop'd skies; Ye scenes, where peace and fancy held their Far from the town's det sted haunts remov'd,

reign, And nought but thee deserted that I lov'd; For ever lov'd, and once enjoy'd again! From noise and folly and the world got free, Ah! where is now that nameless bliss refio'd, One truant thought yet only stays for thee. That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind ? What is that world which makes the heart its As sweet the wild rose bears its balmy breast; slave?

As soon the breeze with inurmurs sooths to rest; A restless sea, revolving wave on wave :

As smooth the stream of silver Irwan flows; There rage the storms of each uncertain clime; As fair each flower along his border blows; There float the wrecks of fortune and of time: Yet dwells not here that nameless bliss refin'd, There hope's smooth gales in soft succession That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind. blow,

Is it that knowledge is allied to woe; While' disappointment hides the rock below. And are we happy only e'er we know? The syren pleasures tune their fatal breath, Is it that Hope withholds her golden ray, And lull you to the long repose of death.

That Fancy's fairy visions fade away?
What is that world? ah!-'tis no more

Or can I, distant far froin all that's dear,
Than the vext ocean wbile we walk the shore. Be happy only when Almena's near?
Loud roar the winds and swell the wild waves That truth, the feelings of my heart disclose:
high,

Too dear the friendship for the friend's repose." Lash the rude beach, and frighten all the sky; Thus mourn’d the Muse, when thro' his osiers No longer shall my little bark be rent,

wild, Since Hope resign'd her anchor to Content. The hill-born Irwan rais'd bis head and smild:

Like some poor fisher that, escap'd with life, “ Child of my hopes," he fondly cried, "forWill trust no more to elemental strife;

Nor let thy Irwan witness thy despair. (bear; But sits in safety on the green-bank side, Has peace indeed forsook my flow'ry shore? And lives upon the leavings of the tide ;

Shall Fame, and Hope, and Fancy charm ng Like him contented you your friend shall see,

more? As safe, as happy, and as poor as he.

Tho' Fame and Hope in kindred air depart,
Yet Fancy still should hold thee to her heart;
For, at thy birth, the village hind has seen
Her light wings waving o'er the shadowy green.
With rosy wreaths she crown'd the new-bon

hours,
And rival fairies fill’d thy bed with flowers;

10

jn vain-if grief shall waste thy blooming years, In what lone cave, what sacred cell,
And life dissolve in solitude and tears,"

Coeval with the birth of 'Time,
Wrapt in high cares, and thoughts sublime,

In awful silence dost thou dwell?
TO GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ.

Oft in the depth of winter's reign,

As blew the bleak winds o'er the dale;
PREFIXED TO THE CORRESPONDENCE OF THEODOSIUS Moaning along the distant gale,
AND CONSTANTIA.

Has Fancy heard thy voice complain.
To live beneath the golden star of love,

Oft in the dark wood's lonely way, With happier fancy, passions more refin'd,

Swift has she seen thee glancing by; Each soft'ning charm of tenderness to prove,

Or down the summer evening sky, And all the finer movements of the mind

Sporting in clouds of gilded day. From gifts like these say, what the boasted gain

If caught from thee the sacred fire, Of those who exquisitively feel or know?

That glow'd within my youthful breast; The skill from pleasure to extract the pain,

Those thoughts too high to be exprest, And open all the avenues of woe.

Genius, if thou didst once inspire, Yet shall we, Colman, at these gifts repine ?

O pleas'd accept this votive lay, Implore cold apathy to steel the heart?

That, in my native shades retir'd, Would you that sensibility resign,

And once, once more by thee inspir'd,
And with those powers of genius would you

In gratitude I pay.
part?
Ah me! my friend! nor deem the verse divine
That weakness wrote in Petrarch's gentle

HYMN TO HOPE.
strain!
When once he own'd at love's unfav'ring shrine

Μυνη δ' αυλοθι ΕΛΠΙΣ εν άρρηκτοισι δομοισιν

Eydov imagens “A thousand pleasures were not worth one

Hesi pain."

WRITTEN IN 1761.
The dreams of fancy sooth the pensive hcart;
For fancy's urn can new delights dispense:

Sun of the soul! whose cheerful ray
The powers of genius purer joys impart;

Darts o'er this gloom of life a smile; For genius brightens all the springs of sense.

Sweet Hope, yet further gild my way,

Yet light my weary steps awhile,
O charm of every muse-ennobl'd mind,

Till thy fair lamp dissolve in endless day.
Far, far above the grovelling crowd to rise !-
Leave the low train of trifing cares behind,

O come with such an eye and mien,
Assert its birthright, and affect the skies! As when by amorous shepherd seen ;
Oright divine, the pride of power to scorn! While in the violet-breathing vale
On fortune's little vanity look down!

He meditates his evening tale !
With nobler gifts, to fairer honours born,

Nor leave behind thy fairy train, Than fear, or folly, fancies in a crown! Repose, Belief, and Fancy vain;

That towering on her wing sublime, As far each boon that Nature's hand bestows

Outstrips the lazy flight of Time, The worthless glare of fortune's train exceeds,

Riots on distant days with thee,
As yon fair orb, whose beam eternal glows,

And opens all futurity,
Outshines the transient meteor that it feeds.
To Nature, Colman, let thy incense rise,

O come! and to my pensive eye
For, much indebted, much hast thou to pay; Thy far-foreseeing tube apply,
For taste refin'd, for wit correctly wise,

Whose kind deception steals uso'er
And keen discernment's soul-perrading ray. The gloomy waste that lies before;
To catch the manners from the various face,

Still opening to the distant sight

The sunshine of the mountain's height; To paint the nice diversities of mind,

Where scenes of fairer aspect rise,
The living lines of character to trace,

Elysian groves, and azure skies.
She gave thee powers, and the task assign'd.
Seize, seize the pen! the sacred hour departs! Nor, gentle Hope, forget to bring

Nor, led by kindness, longer lend thine ear: The family of Youth and Spring ;
The tender tale of two ingenuous hearts

The hours that glide in sprightly round, Would rob thee of a moment and a tear, The Mountain-nymphs with wild thyme crown'd;

Delight that dwells with raptur'd eye

On stream, or flower, or field, or sky:
AN ODE

And foremost in thy train advance

The Loves and Joys in jovial dance;
TO THE GENIUS OF WESTMOPELAND.

Nor last be Expectation seen,
Hail, hidden power of these wild groves, That wears a wreath of ever-green.
These uncouth rocks, and mountains grey !
Where oft, as fades the closing day,

Attended thus by Beleau's streams,
The family of Fancy roves.

Oft hast thou sooth'd my waking dreams, VOL. XVI.