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Though griev'd I speak it, let the truth appear!
You know my language, and my heart, sincere.
In vain did falsehood his fair fame disgrace:
What force had falsehood when he show'd his face!
In vain to war our boastful clans were led

Heaps driv'n on heaps, in the dire shock they fled:
France shuns his wrath, nor raises to our shame
A second Dunkirk in another name:

In Britain's funds their wealth all Europe throws,
And up the Thames the world's abundance flows:
Spite of feign'd fears and artificial cries,
The pious town sees fifty churches rise :
The hero triumphs as his worth is known,
And sits more firmly on his shaken throne.

To my sad thought no beam of hope appears
Through the long prospect of succeeding years.
The son, aspiring to his father's fame,
Shows all his sire: another and the same.
He, blest in lovely Carolina's arms,
To future ages propagates her charms:
With pain and joy at strife, I often trace
The mingled parents in each daughter's face;
Half sickening at the sight, too well I spy
The father's spirit through the mother's eye:
In vain new thoughts of rage I entertain,
And strive to hate their innocence in vain.
O princess! happy by thy foes confest!
Blest in thy husband! in thy children blest!
As they from thee, from them new beauties born,
While Europe lasts, shall Europe's thrones adorn.
Transplanted to each court, in times to come,
Thy smile celestial and unfading bloom,
Great Austria's sons with softer lines shall grace,
And smooth the frowns of Bourbon's haughty race.
The fair descendants of thy sacred bed,
Wide-branching o'er the western world, shall spread
Like the fam'd Banian tree, whose pliant shoot
To earthward bending of itself takes root,
Till, like their mother plant, ten thousand stand
In verdant arches on the fertile land;
Beneath her shade the tawny Indians rove,

Or hunt, at large, through the wide echoing grove.
O thou, to whom these mournful lines I send,
My promis'd husband, and my dearest friend;
Since Heaven appoints this favor'd race to reign,
And blood has drench'd the Scottish fields in vain;
Must I be wretched, and thy flight partake?
Or wilt not thou, for thy lov'd Chloe's sake,
Tir'd out at length, submit to fate's decree?
If not to Brunswick, O return to me!
Prostrate before the victor's mercy bend:
What spares whole thousands, may to thee extend.
Should blinded friends thy doubtful conduct blame,
Great Brunswick's virtue shall secure thy fame :
Say these invite thee to approach his throne,
And own the monarch Heaven vouchsafes to own:
The world, convinc'd, thy reasons will approve;
Say this to them; but swear to me 'twas love.

AN ODE

INSCRIBED TO THE EARL OF SUNDERLAND,
AT WINDSOR.

THOU Dome, where Edward first enroll'd
His red-cross knights and barons bold,
Whose vacant seats, by Virtue bought,
Ambitious emperors have sought.

Where Britain's foremost names are found,
In peace belov'd, in war renown'd,
Who made the hostile nations moan,
Or brought a blessing on their own

Once more a son of Spencer waits.
A name familiar to thy gates;
Sprung from the chief whose prowess gain'd
The Garter while thy founder reign'd,

He offer'd here his dinted shield,
The dread of Gauls in Cressi's field,
Which, in thy high-arch'd temple rais'd,
For four long centuries hath blaz'd.

These seats our sires, a hardy kind, To the fierce sons of war confin'd, The flower of chivalry, who drew With sinew'd arm the stubborn yew: Or with heav'd pole-ax clear'd the field; Or who, in joust and tourneys skill'd, Before their ladies' eyes renown'd, Threw horse and horseman to the ground.

In after-times, as courts refin'd, Our patriots in the list were join'd. Not only Warwick stain'd with blood, Or Marlborough near the Danube's flood, Have in their crimson crosses glow'd; But, on just lawgivers bestow'd, These emblems Cecil did invest, And gleam'd on wise Godolphin's breast

So Greece, ere arts began to rise, Fix'd huge Orion in the skies, And stern Alcides, fam'd in wars, Bespangled with a thousand stars; Till letter'd Athens round the Pole Made gentler constellations roll; In the blue heavens the lyre she strung, And near the Maid the Balance* hung.

Then, Spencer, mount amid the band, Where knights and kings promiscuous stand. What though the hero's flame repress'd Burns calmly in thy generous breast! Yet who more dauntless to oppose In doubtful days our home-bred foes! Who rais'd his country's wealth so high, Or view'd with less desiring eye!

The sage, who, large of soul, surveys The globe and all its empires weighs, Watchful the various climes to guide, Which seas, and tongues, and faiths, divide, A nobler name in Windsor's shrine Shall leave, if right the Muse divine, Than sprung of old, abhorr'd and vain, From ravag'd realms and myriads slain.

Why praise we, prodigal of fame, The rage that sets the world on flame? My guiltless Muse his brow shall bind Whose godlike bounty spares mankind For those, whom bloody garlands crown, The brass may breathe, the marble frown. To him through every rescued land, Ten thousand living trophies stand.

Names of constellations.

JAMES HAMMOND.

JAMES HAMMOND, a popular elegiac poet, was the Elegies" were published soon after his death by second son of Anthony Hammond, Esq. of Somer- Lord Chesterfield, and have been several times sham place, in Huntingdonshire. He was born in reprinted. It will seem extraordinary that the no1710, and was educated in Westminster school, ble editor has only once mentioned the name of where at an early age he obtained the friendship of Tibullus, and has asserted that Hammond, sincere several persons of distinction, among whom were in his love, as in his friendship, spoke only the Lords Cobham, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton. He genuine sentiments of his heart, when there are so was appointed equerry to Frederic, Prince of Wales, many obvious imitations of the Roman poet, even and upon his interest was brought into parliament so far as the adoption of his names of Neera, Cynin 1741, for Truro in Cornwall. This was nearly thia, and Delia. It must, however, be acknow.he last stage of his life, for he died in June 1742, at the seat of Lord Cobham, at Stowe. An unfortunate passion for a young lady, Miss Dashwood, who was cold to his addresses, is thought to have disordered his mind, and perhaps contributed to his premature death.

Hammond was a man of an amiable character, and was much regretted by his friends. His "Love

ledged, that he copies with the hand of a master, and that his imitations are generally managed with a grace that almost conceals their character. Still as they are, in fact, poems of this class, however skilfully transposed, we shall content ourselves with transcribing one which introduces the name of his principal patron with peculiarly happy effect.

ELEGY.

He imagines himself married to Delia, and that, content with each other, they are retired into the country.

LET others boast their heaps of shining gold,
And view their fields, with waving plenty crown'd,
Whom neighboring foes in constant terror hold,
And trumpets break their slumbers, never sound.

While calmly poor I trifle life away,
Enjoy sweet leisure by my cheerful fire,
No wanton hope my quiet shall betray,
But, cheaply blest, I'll scorn each vain desire.

With timely care I'll sow my little field,
And plant my orchard with its master's hand,
Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield,
Or range my sheaves along the sunny land.

If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam,
I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb,
Under my arm I'll bring the wanderer home,
And not a little chide its thoughtless dam.

What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain,
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast!
Or lull'd to slumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy, sink at last to rest!
Or, if the Sun in flaming Leo ride,
By shady rivers indolently stray,
And with my Delia, walking side by side,
Hear how they murmur, as they glide away!

What joy to wind along the cool retreat,
To stop, and gaze on Delia as I go!
To mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet,
And teach my lovely scholar all I know!

Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream
In silent happiness I rest unknown;
Content with what I am, not what I seem,

I live for Delia and myself alone.

Ah, foolish man, who thus of her possest,
Could float and wander with ambition's wind,
And if his outward trappings spoke him blest,
Not heed the sickness of his conscious mind!

With her I scorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor trust to happiness that's not our own;
The smile of fortune might suspicion raise,
But here I know that I am lov'd alone.

Stanhope, in wisdom as in wit divine,
May rise, and plead Britannia's glorious cause,
With steady rein his eager wit confine,
While manly sense the deep attention draws.

Let Stanhope speak his listening country's wrongs,
My humble voice shall please one partial maid;
For her alone I pen my tender song,
Securely sitting in his friendly shade.

Stanhope shall come, and grace his rural friend,
Delia shall wonder at her noble guest,
With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her husband's patron cull the best.

Hers be the care of all my little train,
While I with tender indolence am blest,
The favorite subject of her gentle reign,
By love alone distinguish'd from the rest.

For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plow,
In gloomy forests tend my lonely flock;
For her a goat-herd climb the mountain's brow,
And sleep extended on the naked rock.

Ah, what avails to press the stately bed,
And far from her midst tasteless grandeur weep,
By marble fountains lay the pensive head,
And, while they murmur, strive in vain to sleep?

Delia alone can please, and never tire,
Exceed the paint of thought in true delight;
With her, enjoyment wakens new desire,
And equal rapture glows through every night:

Beauty and worth in her alike contend,
To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind;
In her, my wife, my mistress, and my friend,
I taste the joys of sense and reason join'd.

On her I'll gaze, when others loves are o'er,
And dying press her with my clay-cold hand-
Thou weep'st already, as I were no more,
Nor can that gentle breast the thought withstand

Oh, when I die, my latest moments spare,
Nor let thy grief with sharper torments kill,
Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair.
Though I am dead, my soul shall love thee still:

Oh, quit the room, oh, quit the deathful bed.
Or thou wilt die, so tender is thy heart;
Oh, leave me, Delia, ere thou see me dead,
These weeping friends will do thy mournful part:

Let them, extended on the decent bier,
Convey the corse in melancholy state,
Through all the village spread the tender tear,
White pitying maids our wondrous loves relate.

WILLIAM SOMERVILE.

WILLIAM SOMERVILE, an agreeable poet, was mind, and plunged him into habits which shortened born in 1692, at his father's seat at Edston, in War- his life. He died in 1742; and his friend Shenwickshire. He was educated at Winchester school, stone, with much feeling, announces the event to whence he was elected to New College, Oxford. one of his correspondents. Somervile passed his His political attachments were to the Whig party, life in celibacy, and made over the reversion of his as appeared from his praises of Marlborough, Stan- estate to Lord Somervile, a branch of the same hope, and Addison. To the latter of these he ad- family, charged with a jointure to his mother, then dressed a poem, in which there is the happy couplet in her 90th year. alluded to in the Spectator:

"When panting Virtue her last efforts made,

You brought your Clio to the Virgin's aid." "Clio" was known to be the mark by which Addison distinguished his papers in that miscellany.

As a poet, he is chiefly known by "The Chase," a piece in blank verse, which maintains a high rank in the didactic and descriptive classes. Being composed by one who was perfectly conversant with the sports which are its subject, and entered into them with enthusiasm, his pictures greatly surpass Somervile inherited a considerable paternal es- the draughts of the same kind which are attempted late, on which he principally lived, acting as a by poets by profession. Another piece connected magistrate, and pursuing with ardor the amusements with this is entitled "Field Sports," but only de of a sportsman, varied with the studies of a man scribes that of hawking. In his "Hobbinol, or of letters. His mode of living, which was hospi-Rural Games," he attempts the burlesque with toltable, and addicted to conviviality, threw him into erable success. Of his other pieces, serious and Decuniary embarrassments which preyed on his comic, there are few which add to his fame.

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THE Chase I sing, hounds, and their various breed,
And no less various use. O thou, great prince!
Whom Cambria's towering hills proclaim their lord,
Deign thou to hear my bold, instructive song.
While grateful citizens with pompous show,
Rear the triumphal arch, rich with th' exploits

The subject proposed. Address to his royal highness the prince. The origin of hunting. The Of thy illustrious house; while virgins pave rude and unpolished manner of the first hunters. Thy way with flowers, and, as the royal youth Beasts at first hunted for food and sacrifice. The Passing they view, admire and sigh in vain; grant made by God to man of the beasts, &c. While crowded theatres, too fondly proud The regular manner of hunting first brought Of their exotic minstrels, and shrill pipes, into this island by the Normans. The best hounds The price of manhood, hail thee with a song, and best horses bred here. The advantage of And airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn this exercise to us, as islanders. Address to gen- Invites thee to the Chase, the sport of kings; tlemen of estates. Situation of the kennel and Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse its several courts. The diversion and employ- Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care ment of hounds in the kennel. The different Thy foaming courser o'er the steepy rock, sorts of hounds for each different chase. De- Or on the river bank receive thee safe, scription of a perfect hound. Of sizing and sort-Light-bounding o'er the wave, from shore to shore ing of hounds; the middle-sized hound recom- Be thou our great protector, gracious youth! mended. Of the large deep-mouthed hound for And if, in future times, some envious prince, hunting the stag and otter. Of the lime-hound; Careless of right, and guileful, should invade their use on the borders of England and Scotland. Thy Britain's commerce, or should strive in vain A physical account of scents. Of good and bad To wrest the balance from thy equal hand; scenting days. A short admonition to my breth- Thy hunter-train, in cheerful green array'd, ren of the couples. |(A band undaunted, and inur'd to toils)

Shall compass thee around, die at thy feet,
Or hew thy passage through th' embattled foe,
And clear thy way to fame: inspir'd by thee,
The nobler chase of glory shall pursue

Is bred the perfect hound, in scent and speed
As yet unrivall'd, while in other climes
Their virtue fails, a weak degenerate race.
In vain malignant steams and winter fogs

Through fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of Load the dull air, and hover round our coasts:

death.

Nature, in her productions slow, aspires
By just degrees to reach perfection's height:
So mimic Art works leisurely, till time
Improve the piece, or wise Experience give
The proper finishing. When Nimrod bold,
That mighty hunter, first made war on beasts,
And stain'd the woodland-green with purple dye,
New, and unpolish'd was the huntsman's art;
No stated rule, his wanton will his guide.
With clubs and stones, rude implements of war,
He arm'd his savage bands, a multitude
Untrain'd; of twining osiers form'd, they pitch
Their artless toils, then range the desert hills,
And scour the plains below; the trembling herd
Start at th' unusual sound, and clamorous shout
Unheard before; surpris'd, alas! to find
Man now their foe, whom erst they deem'd their lord,
But mild and gentle, and by whom as yet
Secure they graz'd. Death stretches o'er the plain
Wide-wasting, and grim slaughter red with blood:
Urg'd on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill,
Their rage licentious knows no bound; at last,
Encumber'd with their spoils, joyful they bear
Upon their shoulders broad the bleeding prey.
Part on their altars smoke a sacrifice

To that all-gracious Power, whose bounteous hand
Supports his wide creation; what remains
On living coals they broil, inelegant

Of taste, nor skill'd as yet in nicer arts

Of pamper'd luxury. Devotion pure,
And strong necessity, thus first began

The chase of beasts: though bloody was the deed,
Yet without guilt. For the green herb alone
Unequal to sustain man's laboring race,
Now every moving thing that liv'd on Earth
Was granted him for food. So just is Heaven,
To give us in proportion to our wants.

Or chance or industry in after-time
Some few improvements made, but short as yet
Of due perfection. In this isle remote
Our painted ancestors were slow to learn,
To arms devote, of the politer arts

The huntsman, ever gay, robust, and bold,
Defies the noxious vapor, and confides
In this delightful exercise, to raise

His drooping herd, and cheer his heart with joy.
Ye vigorous youths, by smiling Fortune blest
With large demesnes, hereditary wealth,
Heap'd copious by your wise forefathers' care,
Hear and attend! while I the means reveal
T' enjoy those pleasures, for the weak too strong,
Too costly for the poor: To rein the steed
Swift stretching o'er the plain, to cheer the pack
Opening in concerts of harmonious joy,
But breathing death. What though the gripe severe
Of brazen-fisted Time, and slow disease
Creeping through every vein, and nerve unstrung,
Afflict my shatter'd frame, undaunted still,
Fix'd as a mountain ash, that braves the bolts
Of angry Jove; though blasted, yet unfallen;
Still can my soul in Fancy's mirror view
Deeds glorious once, recall the joyous scene
In all its splendors deck'd, o'er the full bowl
Recount my triumphs past, urge others on
With hand and voice, and point the winding way.
Pleas'd with that social sweet garrulity,
The poor disbanded veteran's sole delight.

First let the kennel be the huntsman's care,
Upon some little eminence erect,

And fronting to the ruddy dawn; its courts
On either hand wide opening to receive
The Sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines
And gilds the mountain tops. For much the pack
(Rous'd from their dark alcoves) delight to stretch
And bask in his invigorating ray:

Warn'd by the streaming light and merry lark,
Forth rush the jolly clan; with tuneful throats
They carol loud, and in grand chorus join'd
Salute the new-born day. For not alone
The vegetable world, but men and brutes
Own his reviving influence, and joy
At his approach. Fountain of light! if chance
Some envious cloud veil thy refulgent brow,
In vain the Muses' aid; untouch'd, unstrung,
Lies my mute harp, and thy desponding bard

Nor skill'd nor studious; till from Neustria's coasts Sits darkly musing o'er th' unfinish'd lay.

Victorious William, to more decent rules
Subdu'd our Saxon fathers, taught to speak
The proper dialect, with horn and voice

To cheer the busy hound, whose well-known cry
His listening peers approve with joint acclaim.
From him successive huntsmen learn'd to join
In bloody social leagues, the multitude
Dispers'd; to size, to sort their various tribes;
To rear, feed, hunt, and discipline the pack.

Hail, happy Britain! highly favor'd isle,
And Heaven's peculiar care! To thee 'tis given
To train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those
Begot by winds, or the celestial breed

That bore the great Pelides through the press
Of heroes arm'd, and broke their crowded ranks;
Which, proudly neighing, with the Sun begins
Cheerful his course; and ere his beams decline,
Has measur'd half thy surface unfatigued.
In thee alone, fair land of liberty!

*Gen. chap. ix. ver. 3.

Let no Corinthian pillars prop the dome,
A vain expense, on charitable deeds
Better dispos'd, to clothe the tatter'd wretch,
Who shrinks beneath the blast, to feed the poor
Pinch'd with afflictive want. For use, not state,
Gracefully plain, let each apartment rise.
O'er all let cleanliness preside, no scraps
Bestrew the pavement, and no half-pick'd bones
To kindle fierce debate, or to disgust
That nicer sense, on which the sportsman's hope,
And all his future triumphs, must depend.
Soon as the growling pack with eager joy
Have lapp'd their smoking viands, morn or eve,
From the full cistern lead the ductile streams,
To wash thy court well pav'd, nor spare thy pains
For much to health will cleanliness avail.
Seek'st thou for hounds to climb the rocky steep,
And brush th' entangled covert, whose nice scent
O'er greasy fallows and frequented roads
Can pick the dubious way? Banish far off
Each noisome stench, let no offensive smell

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