Yet ever, as by humour led,
Each path of life in turn I tread,
Still to my first great maxim true,
On Moderation fix my view;
Let her with tempering fway prefide
O'er Pleafure's cup and Learning's pride;
And by her fage decrees o'er-rule:
The dogmas of each sturdy school.
Opinion thus may various play,
While reafon fhines with steady ray,
And cafts o'er all the fhifting fcene
Her fober hue, and light ferene.

AN AMATORY ODE.

[From Salmagundi; a Mifcellaneous Combination of Original Poetry.]

N

OW hath the fun his evanescent fires

Quench'd in the billows of the western main;
Cease their foft carols all the feather'd choirs,
And gloomy folitude ufurps the plain.

Rife, ye deep fhades, ye waves in darkness roll,
Ye feather'd choirs to filence yield the grove,
For Lesbia fleeps:-nor cheers my penfive foul
The glance of rapture, nor the voice of love.

Ye Winds, whofe havoc-fpreading pinions ply
Their furious speed, and with dire yell invade
This nether world, whose wafteful tyranny
Pale Dryads mourn in many a ruin'd shade;

Wake not my Love:-Let not your thund'ring cry
With dread alarm the haunt of peace
infeft;

Here breathe in soft Æolian melody

Each cadence sweet that charms the foul to rest,

Ye Spectres (whom belated pilgrims fear,
Iffuing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb,
What time deep-fhadowing clouds thy radiant sphere,
Cynthia, involve in night's meridian gloom,)

Hence to deferted fane or mouldering hall,
Or the gaunt felon's ruthlefs courfe control
With monitory fhriek the wretch appal,
And to compunction wake his torpid foul.

;

But walk not near the couch where Lesbia lies
Like fome rich pearl in its enamell'd shell,
Or fainted relic, from profaner eyes
Secluded in the dim fhrine's filver cell.

Wanton, ye Faries, round her tranquil bow'r,
With blifsful elves fantastic measures tread;
O'er her foft eyelids dews of opiate pow'r

Cull'd from choice blooms, in thow'rs of fragrance fhed:

Let your bright tapers' vifionary ray

The raven-tinctur'd robe of Night illume;
And, ftreaming o'er your spangled crests, display
The wave-enamour'd halcyon's emerald plume.

And bid your Minftrel-Fays, a fhadowy choir,
That charm the planets from their fpheres fublime,
Celestial fongs, that love and joy inspire,
Chant to their golden harp's harmonious chime.

And, when morn's purple ftreaks th' horizon stain,
And Fairies fly the peal of Chanticleer,
Let Fancy ftill your glittering hues retain,
Still let your wild notes tremble on her ear.

Then, Lesbia, wake thy beauties, fresher far
Than Galatea boasted when the lav'd

In the smooth deep her coral-axled car,
And the stern heart of Neptune's fon enflav'd..

Wake at his call, to footh whose soul in vain
Morn sheds her radiant beam, her od'rous airs,
Save when, attentive to his artless strain,

That radiant beam, thofe odours Lesbia shares.

He afks no laureate wreath to deck his brows,
No golden meed his bounded wishes claim,
Bleft if the object of his tenderefst vows
Smile on his lay-for Lesbia's fimile is fame.

FREE IMITATION of a LATIN ODE, by WALTER de MAPES, Archdeacon of Oxford in the eleventh Century.

Mihi fapit dulcius vinum in tabernâ
Quám quod aquâ mifcuit præfulis Pincerna.

Suum cuique proprium dat natura munus,
Ego nunquam potui fcribere jejunus:
Me jejunum vincere poffet puer unus,
Sitim et jejunium odi tanquam funus.

Tales verfus facio quale vinum bibo,
Non poffum fcribere nifi fumpto cibo;
Nihil valet penitùs quod jejunus fcribo,
Nafonem poft calices facilé præibo.

Mihi nunquàm fpiritus prophetiæ datur
Nifi cùm fuerit venter benè fatur ;
Cùm in arce cerebri Bacchus dominatur
In me Phoebus irruit ac miranda fatur.

IMITATION.

I'll in a tavern end my days 'midft boon companions merry,
Place at my lips a lufty flafk replete with fparkling fherry,
That angels hov'ring round may cry, when I lie dead as door nail;
Rife, genial Deacon, rife and drink of the well of life eternal.”

Tis wine the fading lamp of life renews with fire celeftial,
And elevates the raptur'd fenfe above this globe terreftrial;
Be mine the grape's pure juice unmix'd with any bafe ingredient,
Water to heretics I leave, found churchmen have no need on't.

Various implements belong to ev'ry occupation;

Give me an haunch of venifon, and a fig for infpiration!
Verfes and odes without good cheer I never could indite 'em,
Sure he who meager days devis'd is d---d ad infinitum !

When I exhauft the bowl profound and gen'rous liquor fwallow,
Bright as the beverage I imbibe the gen'rous numbers follow;
Your fneaking water-drinkers all, I utterly condemn 'em,
He that would write like Homer muft drink like Agamemnon.

Myfteries and prophetic truths, I never could unfold 'em
Without a flagon of good wine and a flice of cold ham;
But when I've drain'd my liquor out, and eat what's in the difh up,
Tho' I am but an arch-deacon, I can preach like an archbishop.

ODE

ODE on his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY.

L

By HENRY JAMES PYE, Efq. Poet Laureate.

I.

OUD the whirlwind rang'd around
That thook affrighted Britain's fhore,

In peals of louder thunder drown'd

That mingled with the wint'ry roar;
Dreadful amid the driving ftorm
The gliding meteor's horrid form

With tranfient gleam illum'd the air,
While thro' December's murky night,
Refulgent with unwonted light,
The livid flashes glare."

II.

But fee! the radiant lord of day

Now Northward rolls his burning car,

And scatters with victorious ray
The rage of elemental war.

To reft the troubled waves fubfide,
And gently o'er the curling tide

Young Zephyr leads the vernal hours;
Adorns with richeft dyes the vale,
And fragrance wafts on every gale
From June's ambrofial flowers.
III.

O may no low'ring gloom o'ercaft

Th' aufpicious morn to Britain dear,
Or Eurus check with envious blast

The promile of the rip'ning year!--
Or fhould fome tranfitory cloud
Awhile th' etherial fplendour fhroud,

Soon fhall the fun his ftream renew;
Soon fhall the landscape smile around
With more luxuriant verdure crown'd,
And bloom with livelier hue.
IV.
Exulting in her prince rever'd,
Whofe mild parental virtues grace
The facred throne, by glory rear'd

On freedom's adamantine base,
While Albion pours the festive strain,
Refponfive to her choral train

The muse enraptur'd joins the throng;
Proud that a grateful people's praise
Echoes the votive verfe the pays,

And confecrates her fong.

CHARACTERISTICS of LIBERTY in the SAVAGE STATE of this ISLAND, its EXTINCTION in the early STAGES of our MONARCHY, and its REVIVAL and INFLUENCE in the prefent civilized STATE of MANNERS.

[From the Aboriginal Britons, by GEORGE RICHARDS, B. A.]

IN

'N Albion's ancient days, midt nothern fnows,
Hardy and bold, immortal Freedom rose.
She roam'd the founding margin of the deep,
Conway's wild bank, and Cader's craggy steep:
A bloody wolf-fkin o'er her back was fpread;
An axe fhe bore; and wild weeds grac'd her head.
On Snowden's cliffs reclin'd the watch'd on high
The tempeft-driven clouds, that crofs'd the sky;
Or caught with liftening ear the founding gale,
When the dread war-fong fhook the distant dale.
At battle's clofe fhe roam'd the enfanguin'd plain,
And gaz'd the threatening afpects of the flain.
Now from ignoble floth the rarely rofe,
For favage freedom finks to mute repofe ;
Now to wild joys, and the bowl's maddening powers
Gave up the torpid fenfe and liftless hours;
Now joyful faw the naked fword difplay'd,

Though brother's blood flow'd reeking from the blade.
By tyrants funk fhe rofe more proudly great,
As ocean fwells indignant in the ftrait;

And, borne in chains from Cambria's mountains bleak,
Rais'd virtue's generous bluth on Cæfar's cheek.

But ah full many a dark and ftormy year
She dropt o'er Albion's ifle the patriot tear.
Retir'd to mountains from the craggy dell,
She caught the Norman curfeu's tyrant knell.
Sad to her view the baron's castle frown'd
Bold from the steep, and aw'd the plains around
She forrowing heard the papal thunders roll,
And mourn'd the ignoble bondage of the foul:
She blush'd, O Cromwell, blush'd at Charles's doom
And wept, mifguided Sidney, o'er thy tomb.

But now reviv'd the boafts a purer caufe,
Refin'd by fcience, form'd by generous laws:
High hangs her helmet in the banner'd hall,
Nor founds her clarion but at honour's call."
Now walks the land with olive chaplet's crown'd,
Exalting worth, and beaming fafety round:
With fecret joy and confcious pride admires
The patriot fpirit, which herfelf infpires:

Sets