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Sportive ; while oft the gaunt and rugged wolf Withers each nerve, and opens every pore Turn'd her stretch'd neck and form'd your tender To painful feeling : flowery bowers they seek limbs;

(As ether prompts, as the sick sense approves) So taught of Jove e'en the fell savage fed

Or cool Nymphean grots; or tepid baths Your sacred infancies, your virtues, toils,

(Taught by the soft Ionians); they, along The conquests, glories, of th’ Ausonian state, The lawny vale, of every beauteous stone, Wrapp'd in their secret seeds. Eacb kindred soul, Pile in the roseat air with fond expense : Robust and stout, ye grapple to your hearts, Through silver channels glide the vagrant wares, And little Rome appears. Her cots arise,

And fall on silver beds crystalline down, Green twigs of osier weave the slender walls, Melodious murmuring ; while Luxury Green rushes spread the roofs; and here and there Over their naked limbs with wanton hand Opens beneath the rock the gloomy cave.

Sheds roses, odours, sheds unheeded bane. Elate with joy Etruscan Tiber views

Swift is the flight of wealth ; unnumber'd wants, Her spreading scenes enamelling his waves,

Brood of voluptuousness, cry out aloud Her huts and hollow dells, and flocks and herds, Necessity, and seek the splendid bribe. And gathering swains ; and rolls his yellow car The citron board, the bowl emboss'd with gems To Neptune's court with more majestic train. And tender foliage wildly wreath'd around

Her speedy growth alarm'd the states around, Of seeming ivy, by that artful hand, Jealous; yet soon, by wondrous virtue won, Corinthian Thericles; whate'er is known They sink into her bosom. From the plough Of rarest acquisition ; Tyrian garbs, Rose her dictators; fought, o'ercame, return'd, Neptunian Albion's high testaceous food, Yes, to the plough return'd, and hail'd their peers; And Aavour'd Chian wines with incense fum'd For then no private pomp, no household state, To slake patrician thirst; for these, their rights The public only swell’d the generous breast. In the vile streets they prostitute to sale, Who has not heard the Fabian heroes sung? Their ancient rights, their dignities, their laws, Dentatus' scars, or Mutius' flaming hand ? Their native glorious freedom. Is there none, How Manlius sav'd the Capitol ? the choice Is there no villain, that will bind the neck Of steady Regulus? As yet they stood,

Stretch'd to the yoke? they come; the market throngs Simple of life; as yet seducing wealth

But who has most by fraud or force amassid? Was unexplor'd, and shame of poverty

Who most can charm corruption with his doles ? Yet unimagin’d. - Shine not all the fields

He be the monarch of the state; and lo! With various fruitage? murmur not the brooks | Didius", vile usurer, through the crowd he mounts, Along the flowery valleys? They, content,

Beneath his feet the Roman eagle cowers, Feasted at Nature's hand, indelicate,

And the red arrows fill his grasp uncouth. Blithe, in their easy taste ; and only sought O Britons, O my countrymen, beware; To know their duties; that their only strife, Gird, gird your hearts; the Romans once were free, Their generous strife, and greatly to perform. Were brave, were virtuous. — Tyranny, howe'er, They through all shapes of peril and of pain, Deign'd to walk forth awhile in pageant state, Intent on honour, dar'd in thickest death

And with licentious pleasures fed the rout, To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebia quell’d, The thoughtless many: to the wanton sound Nor Thrasymene, nor Cannæ's bloody field, Of fifes and drums they danc'd, or in the shade Their dauntless courage ; storming Hannibal Sung Cæsar, great and terrible in war, In vain the thunder of the battle rollid,

Immortal Cæsar! Lo, a god, a god, The thunder of the battle they return'd

He cleaves the yielding skies ! Cæsar meanwhik Back on his Punic shores ; till Carthage fell, Gathers the ocean pebbles; or the gnat And danger fled afar. The city gleam'd

Enrag'd pursues ; or at his lonely meal With precious spoils : alas, prosperity !

Starves a wide province; tastes, dislikes, and fing Ah, baneful state! yet ebb’d not all their strength To dogs and sycophants. A god, a god! In soft luxurious pleasures; proud desire

The flowery shades and shrines obscene return. Of boundless sway, and feverish thirst of gold, But see along the north the tempests swell Rous'd them again to battle. Beauteous Greece, O'er the rough Alps, and darken all their shows! Torn from her joys, in vain with languid arm Sudden the Goth and Vandal, dreaded names, Half rais'd her rusty shield ; nor could avail Rush as the breach of waters, whelming all The sword of Dacia, nor the Parthian dart; Their domes, their villas ; down the festive piles, Nor yet the car of that fam'd British chief, Down fall their Parian porches, gilded baths, Which seven brave years, beneath the doubtful wing And roll before the storm in clouds of dust. Of Victory, dreadful roll'd its griding wheels Vain end of human strength, of human skill, Over the bloody war : the Roman arms

Conquest, and triumph, and domain, and pomp, Triumph'd, till Fame was silent to their foes. And ease, and luxury! O Luxury,

And now the world unrivall’d they enjoy'd Bane of elated life, of affluent states,
In proud security: the crested helm,

What dreary change, what ruin is not thine ?
The plated greave and corslet hung unbrac'd; How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind!
Nor clank'd their arms, the spear and sounding shield, To the soft entrance of thy rosy cave
But on the glittering trophy to the wind.

How dost thou lure the fortunate and great!
Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie,

Dreadful attraction! while behind thee gapes Till every sun annoys, and every wind

'Th' unfathomable gulph where Asher lies Has chilling force, and every rain offends : O'erwhelm'd, forgotten ; and high-boasting Cham; For now the frame no more is girt with strength And Elain's haughty pomp; and beauteous Greece; Masculine, nor in lustiness of heart

And the great queen of Earth, imperial Rome. Laughs at the winter storm, and summer-beam, Superior to their rage : enfeebling yise

• Didius Julianus, who bought the emrine.

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ture.

Will

ILLIAM SHENSTONE, a popular and agreeable the life which he invariably pursued, and which poet, was born at Hales-Owen, Shropshire, in 1714. consisted in improving the picturesque beauties of His father was an uneducated gentleman farmer, the Leasowes, exercising his pen in casual effusions who cultivated an estate of his own, called the Lea- of verse and prose, and cultivating such society as sowes. William, after passing through other in- lay within his reach. The fame of the Leasowes struction, was removed to that of a clergyman at was widely spread by an elaborate description of Solihull, from whom he acquired a fund of classical Dodsley's, which drew multitudes of visitors to the literature, together with a taste for the best English place; and the house being originally only a farm, writers. In 1732 he was entered of Pembroke became inadequate to his grounds, and required enCollege, Oxford, where he formed one of a set of largement. Hence he lay continually under the young men who met in the evenings at one another's pressure of narrow circumstances, which preyed chambers, and read English works in polite litera- upon his spirits, and rendered him by no means a

He also began to exercise his poetical talent happy inhabitant of the little Eden he had created. upon some light topics; but coming to the posses Gray, from the perusal of his letters, deduces the sion of his paternal property, with some augment following, perhaps too satirical, account.

“ Poor ation, he indulged himself in rural retirement, and man! he was always wishing for money, for fame, forgetting his calls to college residence, he took up and other distinctions; and his whole philosophy his abode at a house of his own, and commenced consisted in living against his will in retirement, gentleman. In 1737 he printed anonymously a and in a place which his taste had adorned, but small volume of juvenile poems, which was little which he only enjoyed when people of note came to noticed. His first visit to London, in 1740, intro see and commend it." duced him to the acquaintance of Dodsley, who Shenstone died of a fever in February, 1763, in printed his “ Judgment of Hercules,” dedicated to his fiftieth year, and was interred in the churchhis Hagley neighbour, Mr.(afterwards Lord) Little- yard of Hales-Owen. Monuments to his memory

It was followed by a work written before it, were erected by several persons who loved the man, “ The School-mistress," a piece in Spenser's style and esteemed his poetry. Of the latter, the general and stanza, the heroine of which was a village opinion is now nearly uniform. It is regarded as dame, supposed to have given him his first instruc- commonly correct, elegant, melodious, and tender tion. The vein of benevolence and good sense, and in sentiment, and often pleasing and natural in dethe touches of the pathetic, by which this perform- scription, but verging to the languid and feeble. ance is characterised, render it extrembly pleasing, His prose writings, published in a separate volume, and perhaps place it at the head of his compositions. display good sense and cultivated taste, and some

After amusing himself with a few rambles to times contain new and acute observations on man. places of public resort, Shenstone now sat down to kind.

ton.

THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS.

IN IMITATION OF SPENSER.

Auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens, nfantumque animæ flentes in limine primo. Virg.

Advertisement. That particulars in Spenser were imagined most proper for the author's imitation on this occasion, are his language, his simplicity, his manner of description, and a peculiar tenderness of sentiment remarkable throughout his works. A. me! full sorely is my heart forlorn, To think how modest Worth neglected lies While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise ; Deeds of ill sort, and mi chia emprise :

Lend me thy clarion, goddess ! let me try
To sound the praise of Merit, ere it dies,

Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,
Lost in the dreary shades of dull Obscurity.

In every village inark'd with little spire,
Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to Fame,
There dwells in lowly shed, and mean attire,
A matron old, whom we School-mistress name;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame;
They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent,
Aw'd by the power of this relentless dame;

And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,
For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely shent.

And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree,
Which Learning near her little dome did stowe;
Whilom a twig of small regard to see,
Though now so wide its waving branches flow;

low;

And work the simple vassal's mickle woe; One ancient hen she took delight to feed,
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, The plodding pattern of the busy dame;
But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat Which, ever and anon, impellid by need,

Into her school, begirt with chickens, came! And as they look'd they found their horrour grew, Such favour did her past deportment claim : And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view. And, if Neglect had lavish'd on the ground

Fragment of bread, she would collect the same; So have I seen (who has not, may conceive) For well she knew, and quaintly could expound, A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd; What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave,

found. Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast; They start, they stare, they wheel, they look Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak aghast;

That in her garden sipp'd the silvery dew; Sad servitude ! such comfortless annoy

Where no vain flower disclos'd a gaudy streak; May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste !

But herbs for use, and physic, not a few, Ne superstition clog his dance of joy,

Of grey renown, within those borders grew: No vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy. The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme,

Fresh baum, and marygold of cheerful hue; Near to this dome is found a patch so green, The lowly gill, that never dares to climb; On which the tribe their gambols do display ; And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to And at the door imprisoning-board is seen,

rhyme. Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray ; Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day!

Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung, The noises intermixed, which thence resound, That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around; Do Learning's little tenement betray;

And pungent radish, biting infants' tongue; Where sits the dame, disguis’d in look profound, And plantain ribb’d, that heals the reaper's wound; And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel And marjoram sweet, in shepherd's posie found; around.

And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom

Shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound, Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,

To lurk amidst the labours of her loom, Emblem right meet of decency does yield : And crown her kerchiefs clean, with mickle rare perHer apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe,

fume. As is the hare-bell that adorns the field ; And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd, The daintiest garden of the proudest peer; With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill’d; Ere, driven from its envied site, it found

And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd, A sacred shelter for its branches here; And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind. Where edg'd with gold its glittering skirts appear,

Oh wassel days! O customs meet and well! Few but have ken'd, in semblance meet pour Ere this was banish'd from its lofty sphere: tray'd,

Simplicity then sought this humble cell, [dwell. The childish faces of old Eol's train;

Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling Libs, Notus, Auster : these in frowns array'd, How then would fare or Earth, or Sky, or Main, Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve, Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein? Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete, And were not she rebellious breasts to quell, If winter 't were, she to her hearth did cleave, And were not she her statutes to maintain,

But in her garden found a summer-seat : The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dwell. How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king,

While taunting foe-men did a song entreat, A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown; All, for the nonce, untuning every string, A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air ;

Uphung their useless lyres - small heart had they 'T was simple russet, but it was her own;

to sing. 'T was her own country bred the flock so fair ! 'T was her own labour did the fleece prepare ; For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore, And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'd around, And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed; Through pious awe, did term it passing rare; And in those elfins' ears, would oft deplore For they in gaping wonderment abound,

The times, when Truth by Popish rage did bleed; And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on And tortious death was true Devotion's meed; ground.

And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn,

That nould on wooden image place her creed; Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth,

And lawny saints in smouldering flames did burn: Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;

Ah! dearest Lord, forefend, thilk days should e'er Goody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth,

return. Or dame, the sole additions she did hear; Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear: In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem Ne would esteem him act as mought behove, By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defac'd, Who should not honour'd eld with these revere: In which, when he receives his diadem, For never title yet so mean could prove,

Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is plac'd, But there was eke a mind which did that title love The matron sate i and some with rank she grace

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(Tie source of children's and of courtiers' pride !) By turns, astony'd, every twig survey, Redress'd affronts, for vile affronts there pass'd; And, from their fellows' hateful wounds, beware;

And warn'd them not the fretful to deride, Knowing, I wist, how each the same may share ; But love each other dear, whatever them betide. Till fear has taught them a performance meet,

And to the well-known chest the dame repair ; Right well she knew each temper to descry;) Whence oft with sugar'd cates she doth thein greet, To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise; And ginger-bread y-rare; now certes, doubly sweet! Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high, And some entice with pittance small of praise, See to their seats they hye with merry glee, And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays : And in beseemly order sitten there ; E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold, All but the wight of bum y-galled, he While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways: Abhorreth bench, and stool, and fourm, and chair;

Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, (This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair ;) 'T will whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold. And eke with snubs profound, and heaving breast,

Convulsions intermitting ! does declare Lo now with state she utters the command ! His grievous wrong; his dame's unjust behest ; Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair ; And scorns her offer'd love and shuns to be caress'd. Their books of stature small they take in hand, Which with pellucid horn secured are,

His face besprent with liquid crystal shines, To save from finger wet the letters fair:

His blooming face that seems a purple flower, The work so gay that on their back is seen,

Which low to earth its drooping head declines, St. George's high achievements does declare; All smear'd and sullied by a vernal shower.

On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been, O the hard bosoms of despotic power ! Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween! All, all, but she, the author of his shame,

All, all, but she, regret this mournful hour : Ah luckless lie, and born beneath the beam Yet hence the youth, and hence the flower shall Of evil star! it irks me whilst I write:

claim, As erst the bard • by Mulla's silver stream, If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame. Oft, as he told of deadly dolorous plight, Sigh'd as he sung, and did in tears indite.

Behind some döör, in melancholy thought, For brandishing the rod, she doth begin

Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff ! pines, To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight! Ne for his fellows' joyaunce careth aught,

And down they drop ; appears his dainty skin, But to the wind all merriment resigns ; Fair as the furry-coat of whitest ermilin.

And deems it shame, if he to peace inclines :

And many a sullen look ascance is sent, O ruthful scene ! when from a nook obscure, Which for his dame's annoyance he designs ; His little sister doth his peril see :

And still the more to pleasure him she's bent, All playful as she sate, she grows demure ; The more doth he, perverse, her haviour past resent. She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee ; She meditates a prayer to set him free :

Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be! Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny

But if that pride it be, which thus inspires, (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment see, To her sad grief that swells in either eye,

Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires : And wings her so that all for pity she could dye. Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres,

All coward arts, is Valour's generous heat; No longer can she now her shrieks command; The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires, And hardly she forbears, through awful fear,

Like Vernon's patriot soul! more justly great To rushen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, Than Craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false Deceit. To stay harsh Justice in its mid career. On thee she calls, on thee her parent dear! Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear! (Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow!) E'en now sagacious Foresight points to show She sees no kind domestic visage near,

A little bench of heedless bishops here, And soon a flood of tears begins to flow;

And there a chancellor in embryo, .nd gives a loose at last to unavailing woe.

Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so,

As Milton, Shakspeare, names that ne'er shall die! But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace? Though now he crawl along the ground so low, Or what device his loud laments explain?

Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high, The form uncouth of his disguised face? Wisheth, poor starveling elf! his paper kite may fly. The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain ? And this perhaps, who, censuring the design, When he, in abject wise, implores the dame, Low lays the house which that of cards doth Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain ;

build, Or when from high she levels well her aim, Shall Dennis be! if rigid Fate incline, od, through the thatch, his cries each falling And many an epic to his rage shall yield; stroke proclaim.

And many a poet quit th' Aonian field ;

And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear, The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay,

As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrill'd Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care: Surveys mine work ; and levels many a sneer,

And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, “ What * Spenser.

stuff is here?"

But now Dan Phæbus gains the middle skie,
And Liberty unbars her prison-door ;

ELEGY.
And like a rushing torrent out they fly,
And now the grassy cirque had cover'd o'er Describing the sorrow of an ingenuous mind, on the
With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar ;

melancholy event of a licentious amour. A thousand ways in wanton rings they run, Heaven shield their short-liv'd pastimes, I im- Why mourns my friend ? why weeps his downcast plore !

eye, For well may Freedom erst so dearly won,

That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to shrine? Appear to British elf more gladsome than the Sun. Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh;

Spring ne'er enameli'd fairer meads than thine. Enjoy, poor imps ! enjoy your sportive trade, And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers ; Art thou not lodg'd in Fortune's warm embrace? For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid, Wert thou not form'd by Nature's partial care? For never may ye taste more careless hours Blest in thy song, and blest in every grace In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers.

That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair? O vain to seek delight in earthly thing ! But most in courts where proud Ambition towers; “ Damon,” said he, “thy partial praise restrain ;

Deluded wight! who weens fair Peace can spring Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore; Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king. Alas! his very praise awakes my pain,

And my poor wounded bosom bleeds the more. See in each sprite some various bent appear ! These rudely carol most incondite lay;

“ For oh! that Nature on my birth had frown'd, Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer Or Fortune fix'd me to some lowly cell; Salute the stranger passing on his way ;

Then had my bosom 'scap'd this fatal wound, Some builden fragile tenements of clay;

Nor had I bid these vernal sweets farewell. Some to the standing lake their courses bend, With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play ; “ But led by Fortune's hand, her darling child, Thilk to the huxter's savory cottage tend,

My youth her vain licentious bliss admir'd; In pastry kings and queens th' allotted mite to In Fortune's train the syren Flattery smil'd, spend.

And rashly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd

Here, as each season yields a different store, “ Of folly studious, e'en of vices vain,
Each season's stores in order ranged been; Ah vices ! gilded by the rich and gay!
Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er,

chas the guileless daughters of the plain,
Galling full sore th' unmoney'd wight, are seen; Nor dropp'd the chase, till Jessy was my prey.
And goose-b'rie clad in livery red or green ;
And here of lovely dye, the catharine pear, Poor artless maid ! to stain thy spotless name,
Fine pear ! as lovely for thy juice, I ween: Expense, and art, and toil, united strofe ;

O may no wight e'er pennyless come there, To lure a breast that felt the purest flame, Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless Sustain'd by virtue, but betray'd by love. care!

“ School'd in the science of love's mazy wiles, See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound, I cloth'd each feature with affected scorn; With thread so white in tempting posies ty'd, I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickle smiles, Scattering like blooming maid their glances round, And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn. With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside ; And must be bought, though penury betide. “ Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm’d her care, The plum all azure and the nut all brown, Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove; And here each season do those cakes abide, I bade my words their wonted softness wear,

Whose honour'd names * th' inventive city own, And seiz'd the minute of returning love. Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known;

“ To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest ?

Will yet thy love a candid ear incline ? Admir'd Salopia ! that with venial pride Assur'd that virtue, by misfortune prest, Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. Fam'd for her loyal cares in perils try'd, Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave : “ Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame; Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave Ere-while to flaunt it in the face of day; Whose heart did first these dulcet cates display! When, scorn'd of virtue, stigmatiz'd by fame, A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave, Low at my feet desponding Jessy lay.

Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray ; Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their " • Henry,' she said, " by thy dear form subdu'da way.

See the sad reliques of a nymph undone !

I find, I find this rising sob renew'd :
• Shrewsbury cakes.

I sigh in shades, and sicken at the Sun.
«« « Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry,

When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return;
Yet what can morn's returning ray supply,

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