17 Say, should I pass through Favour's crowded gate, Must not fair Truth inglorious wait behind? Whilst I approach the glittering scenes of state, 18 Nursed in the shades by Freedom's lenient care, 19 And when proud Fortune's ebbing tide recedes, And when it leaves me no unshaken friend, Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads, Which oaks embosom, and which hills defend? 20 Oh! if these ills the price of power advance, ELEGY VIII. HE DESCRIBES HIS EARLY LOVE OF POETRY, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. TO MR GRAVES, 1745.1 1 Ah me! what envious magic thins my fold? What mutter'd spell retards their late increase? Such lessening fleeces must the swain behold, That e'er with Doric pipe essays to please. 1 Written after the death of Mr Pope. 2 I saw my friends in evening circles meet; 3 Ill-fated Bard! that seeks his skill to show, 4 Nor could my Graves mistake the critic's laws, 5 Couldst thou reprove me, when I nursed the flame, On listening Cherwell's osier banks reclined? While, foe to Fortune, unseduced by Fame, I soothed the bias of a careless mind? 6 Youth's gentle kindred, Health and Love, were met; 7 Thou know'st how transport thrills the tender breast 8 So first when Phoebus met the Cyprian queen, And favour'd Rhodes beheld their passion crown'd, Unusual flowers enrich'd the painted green, And swift spontaneous roses blush'd around. 9 Now sadly lorn, from Twituam's widow'd bower And where they stop, a flood of tears they pour; 10 Where is the dappled pink, the sprightly rose? 11 Enough of tears has wept the virtuous dead; 12 If near some trophy spring a stripling bay, ELEGY IX. HE DESCRIBES HIS DISINTERESTEDNESS TO A FRIEND. 1 I ne'er must tinge my lip with Celtic wines; The pomp of India must I ne'er display; Nor boast the produce of Peruvian mines; Nor with Italian sounds deceive the day. Alludes to what is reported of the bay-tree, that if it is planted too near the walls of an edifice, its roots will work their way underneath, till they destroy the foundation. 2 Down yonder brook my crystal beverage flows; 3 My fellow swains! avert your dazzled eyes; 4 They gave you vigour from your parents' veins; 5 To carve your loves, to paint your mutual flames, To sing soft carols to your lovely dames, 6 Wouldst thou, my Strephon, Love's delighted slave! Though sure the wreaths of chivalry to share, Forego the riband thy Matilda gave, And, giving, bade thee in remembrance wear? 7 Ill fare my peace, but every idle toy, If to my mind my Delia's form it brings, Has truer worth, imparts sincerer joy, Than all that bears the radiant stamp of kings. 8 0 my soul weeps, my breast with anguish bleeds, When Love deplores the tyrant power of Gain! Disdaining riches as the futile weeds, I rise superior, and the rich disdain. B 9 Oft from the stream, slow-wandering down the glade, Pensive I hear the nuptial peal rebound: "Some miser weds," I cry, "the captive maid, 10 Not Somerville,1 the Muse's friend of old, 11 Scorn'd be the wretch that quits his genial bowl, His loves, his friendships, even his self resigns; Perverts the sacred instinct of his soul, And to a ducat's dirty sphere confines. 12 But come, my Friend! with taste, with science blest, 13 Let others toil to gain the sordid ore, The charms of independence let us sing: Bless'd with thy friendship, can I wish for more? 'Somerville:' author of The Chase.'- 26 Lydia's king:' Croesus. |