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The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known; The red-breast oft at evening hours The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd Shall kindly lend his little aid, queen,

With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen,

To deck the ground where thou art laid. Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear,

When howling winds, and beating rain, And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. In tempests shake thy sylvan cell; Last came Joy's ecstatic trial,

Or 'midst the chase on every plain, He, with viny crown advancing,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell. First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, But soon he saw the brisk-awakening viol,

Each lonely scene shall thee restore, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. For thee the tear be duly shed; They would have thought, who heard the strain,

Belov’d, till life can charm no more ; They saw in Tempé’s vale her native maids, And mourn’d, till Pity's self be dead.

Amidst the festal-sounding shades,
To some unwearied minstrel dancing,

While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round,

Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,

And he, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,

THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings.


CONSIDERED AS O Music, sphere-descended maid,

Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid,

Why, goddess, why to us denied,
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ?

Home, thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads As in that lov'd Athenian bower,

long You learn'd an all-commanding power,

Have seen thee lingering with a fond delay, Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd,

Mid those soft friends, whose hearts some future day Can well recall what then it heard.

Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song.* Where is thy native simple heart,

Go, not unmindful of that cordial youthf Devote to virtue, fancy, art ?

Whom, long endear'd, thou leav'st by Lavant's side; Arise, as in that elder time,

Together let us wish him lasting truth Warm, energic, chaste, sublime !

And joy untainted with his destin'd bride. Thy wonders, in that godlike age,

Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast Fill thy recording sister's page

My short-liv'd bliss, forget my social name; "Tis said, and I believe the tale,

But think, far off, how, on the Southern coast, Thy humblest reed could more prevail,

I met thy friendship with an equal flame! Had more of strength, diviner rage,

Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, where every vale Than all which charms this laggard age, Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand : E'en all at once together found

To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail ; Cæcilia's mingled world of sound

Thou need'st but take thy pencil to thy hand, O, bid our vain endeavors cease,

And paint what all believe, who own thy genial land. Revive the just designs of Greece, Return in all thy simple state!

There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill; Confirm the tales her sons relate!

"Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet;*

Where still, 'uis said, the fairy people meet, Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill. There each trim lass, that skims the milky store

To the swart tribes, their creamy bowls allots ; DIRGE IN CYMBELINE,

By night they sip it round the cottage-door,

While airy minstrels warble jocund notes. SUNG BY GUIDERUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE, There, every herd, by sad experience, knows

How, wing'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.

When the sick ewe her summer food foregoes, To fair Fidele's grassy tomb

Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie. Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Such airy beings awe th’untutor'd swain: Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,

Nor thou, though learn'd, his homelier thoughts And rifle all the breathing Spring.


Let thy sweet Muse the rural faith sustain; No wailing ghost shall dare appear

These are the themes of simple, sure effect, To vex with shrieks this quiet grove, That add new conquests to her boundless reign, But shepherd lads assemble here,

And fill with double force her heart-commanding And melting virgins own their love.

strain. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew;

* How truly did Collins predict Home's tragic powers! The female fays shall haunt the green,

† A gentleman of the name of Barrow, whe introduced And dress thy grave with pearly dew. Home to Colling.



E'en yet preserv'd, how often may'st thou hear, These, too, thou 'lt sing! for well thy magic Muse

Where to the Pole the Boreal mountains run, Can to the topmost heaven of grandeur soar; Taught by the father, to his listening son;

Or stoop to wail the swain that is no more! Strange lays, whose power had charm'd a Spenser's Ah, homely swains! your homeward steps ne'er

lose ; At every pause, before thy mind possest,

Let not dank Wills mislead you to the heath: Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around, Dancing in mirky night, o'er fen and lake, With uncouth lyres, in many-color'd vest,

He glows, to draw you downward to your death, Their matted hair with boughs fantastic crown'd: In his bewitch'd, low, marshy, willow brake! Whether thou bidd'st the well-taught hind repeat What though far off, from some dark dell espied,

The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain brave, His glimmering mazes cheer th' excursive sight, When every shrieking maid her bosom beat, Yet turn, ye wanderers, turn your steps aside,

And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; Nor trust the guidance of that faithless light; Or whether, sitting in the shepherd's shiel, For watchful, lurking, 'mid th' uprustling reed,

Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war's alarms; At those mirk hours the wily monster lies, When at the bugle's call, with fire and steel, And listens oft to hear the passing steed, The sturdy clans pour'd forth their brawny And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes, swarms,

If chance his savage wrath may some weak wretch And hostile brothers met, to prove each other's arms.

surprise. 'Tis thine to sing, how, framing hideous spells,

Ah, luckless swain, o'er all unblest, indeed! In Sky's lone isle, the gifted wizard-seer,

Whom late bewilder'd in the dank, dark fen, Lodg'd in the wintry cave with Faie's fell spear,

Far from his flocks, and smoking hamlet, then! Or in the depth of Uist's dark forest dwells :

To that sad spot where hums the sedgy weed : How they, whose sight such dreary dreams engross, on him, enrag'd, the fiend, in angry mood, With their own vision oft astonish'd droop;

Shall never look with pity's kind concern, When, o'er the watery strath, or quaggy moss,

But instant, furious, raise the whelming food They see the gliding ghosts unbodied troop.

O'er its drown'd banks, forbidding all return! Or, if in sports, or on the festive green,

Or, if he meditate his wish'd escape,
Their destin'd glance some fated youth descry, To some dim hill that seems uprising near,
Who now, perhaps, in lusty vigor seen,

To his faint eye, the grim and grisly shape,
And rosy health, shall soon lamented die.

In all its terrors clad, shall wild appear. For them the viewless forms of air obey;

Meantime the watery surge shall round him rise, Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair.

Pour'd sudden forth from every swelling source They know what spirit brews the stormful day, What now remains but tears and hopeless sighs ?

And heartless, oft like moody madness, stare His fear-shook limbs have lost their youthly To see the phantom train their secret work prepare.


And down the waves he floats, a pale and breathless To monarchs dear, sore hundred miles astray,

corse : Oft have I seen Fate give the fatal blow!

The seer, in Sky, shriek'd as the blood did flow, For him in vain his anxious wife shall wait, When headless Charles warm on the scaffold lay!

Or wander forth to meet him on his way ; As Boreas threw his young Aurora* forth,

For him in vain, at to-fall of the day, In the first year of the first George's reign,

His babes shall linger at th' unclosing gate : And battles rag'd in welkin of the North,

Ah, ne'er shall he return! Alone, if night They mourn'd in air, fell, fell Rebellion slain!

Her travellid limbs in broken slumbers steep, And as, of late, they joy'd in Preston's fight,

Saw at sad Falkirk all their hopes near crown'a: With drooping willows drest, his mournful sprite They rav'd! divining through their second-sight,t. Then he, perhaps, with moist and watery hand,

Shall visit sad, perchance, her silent sleep: Pale, red Culloden, where these hopes were drown'd!

Shall fondly seem to press her shuddering cheek,

And with his blue-swoln face before her stand, Illustrious William !| Britain's guardian name! One William sav'd us from a tyrant's stroke ;

Avd, shivering cold, these piteous accents speak:

• Pursue, dear wife, thy daily toils, pursue, He, for a sceptre, gain'd heroic fame, But thou, more glorious, Slavery's chain hast Nor e'er of me one helpless thought renew,

At dawn or dusk, industrious as before ; broke, To reign a private man, and bow to Freedom's Drown'd by the Kelpie'sil wrath, nor e'er shail aid

While I lie weltering on the osier'd shore, yoke!

thee more!"


Unbounded is thy range; with varied skill By young Aurora, Collins undoubtedly meant the first appearance of the northern lights, which happened

Thy Muse may, like those feathery tribes which about the year 1715; at least, it is most highly probable,

spring from this peculiar circumstance, that no ancient writer

From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing whatever has taken any notice of them, nor even any Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle, one modern, previous to the above period. Second-sight is the term that is used for the divination

$ A fiery meteor, called by various names, such as Will of the Highlanders.

with the Wisp, Jack with the Lantern, &c. It hovers in 1 The late Duke of Cumberland, who defeated the Pre- the air over marshy and fenny places. tender at the battle of Culloden.

| The water fiend.



To that hoar pile* which still its ruin shows : How have I sai, when pip'd the pensive wind,

In whose small vaults a Pigmy-folk is found, To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung! Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows, Prevailing poet! whose undoubting mind And culls them, wond'ring, from the hallow'd Believ'd the magic wonders which he sung! ground!

Hence, at each sound, imagination glows ! Or thithert where beneath the show'ry west Hence, at each picture, vivid life starts here!

The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid : Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows ! Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest,

Melting it flows, pure, murmuring, strong, and No slaves revere them, and no wars invade :

clear, Yet frequent now, at midnight solemn hour, And fills the impassion'd heart, and wins th' har. The rified mounds their yawning cells unfold,

monious ear! And forth the monarchs stalk with sovereign power,

In pageant robes, and wreath'd with sheeny gold, All hail, ye scenes that o'er my soul prevail ! And on their twilight tombs aërial council hold. Ye splendid friths and lakes, which, far away,

Are by smooth Anan fill'd, or past'ral Tay, But, oh, o'er all, forget not Kilda's race,

Or Don's* romantic springs, at distance, hail ! On whose bleak rocks, which brave the wasting The time shall come, when I, perhaps, may tread tides,

Your lowly glensto'erhung with spreading broom ; Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides. Or o'er your stretching heaths, by Fancy led; Go! just, as they, their blameless manners trace! Or o'er your mountains creep, in awful gloom! Then to my ear transmit some gentle song, Then will I dress once more the faded bower,

Of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain, Where Jonson sat in Drummond's classic shade ;1 Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along, Or crop, from Tivioidale, each lyric flower,

And all their prospect but the wintry main. And mourn, on Yarrow's banks, where Willy's With sparing temperance at the needful time

laid! They drain the scented spring; or, hunger-prest, Meantime, ye powers, that on the plains which bore Along th' Atlantic rock, undreading, climb,

The cordial youth, on Lothian's plains ý attend ! And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest. Where'er Home dwells, on hill or lowly moor, Thus blest in primal innocence they live,

To him I lose, your kind protection lend, Suffic'd and happy with that frugal fare And, touch'd with love like mine, preserve my Which tasteful toil and hourly danger give.

absent friend! Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and bare ; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there! Nor need’st thou blush that such false themes engage

ODE Thy gentie mind, of fairer stores possest;

For not alone they louch the village breast, But fill'd in elder time th' historic page.

THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON. There, Shakspeare's self, with ev'ry garland crown'd, the scene of the following Stanzas is supposed to lie on the Flew to those fairy climes his fancy sheen,

Thames, near Richmond. In musing hour; his wayward sisters found,

And with their terrors dress'd the magic scene. In yonder grave a Druid lies, From them he sung, when, ’mid his bold design,

Where slowly winds the stealing wave: Before the Scot, afflicted, and aghast !

The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, The shadowy kings of Banquo's faled line

To deck its poet's sylvan grave.
Through the dark cave in gleamy pageant pass'd.
Proceed ! nor quit the tales which, simply told,

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds
Could once so well my answering bosom pierce;

His airy harp || shall now be laid, Proceed, in forceful sounds, and color bold,

That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, The native legends of thy land rehearse ;

May love through life the soothing shade. To such adapt thy lyre, and suit thy powerful verse. In scenes like these, which, daring to depart

Then maids and youths shall finger here, From sober truth, are still to Nature true,

And, while its sounds at distance swell, And call forth fresh delight to Fancy's view, Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear Th'heroic Muse employ'd her Tasso's art.

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. How have I trembled, when, at Tancred's stroke, Its gushing blood the gaping cypress pour'd!

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When each live plant with mortal accents spoke,

When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, And the wild blast upheav'd the vanish'd sword ! And oft suspend the dashing oar

To bid his gentle spirit rest! * One of the Hebrides is called the Isle of Pigmies; where it is reported that several miniature bones of the human species have been dug up in the ruins of a chapel * Three rivers in Scotland.

| Vallcys. there.

| Ben Jonson paid a visit on foot, in 1619, to the Scotch | Icolmkill, one of the Hebrides, where near sixty of the poet, Drummond, at his seat of Hawthornden, within ancient Scottish, Irish, and Norwegian kings are in four miles of Edinburgh. terred.

g Barrow, it seems, was at the Edinburgh University, 1 An aquatic bird like a goose, on the eggs of which the which is in the county of Lothian. inhabitants of St. Kilda, another of the Hebrides, chiefly | The harp of Æolus, of which see a description in the subsist.

Castle of Indolence.


And oft as Ease and Health retire

And see, the fairy valleys fade, To breezy lawn, or forest deep,

Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view! The friend shall view yon whitening spire, * Yet once again, dear parted shade, And 'mid the varied landscape weep.

Meek Nature's child, again adieu! But thou, who own'st that earthly bed,

The genial meadst assign'd to bless Ah! what will every dirge avail ?

Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom! Or tears which Love and Pity shed,

Their hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress That mourn beneath the gliding sail!

With simple hands thy rural tomb. Yet lives there one, whose heedless eya Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering ra?

Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die,

Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes, And Joy desert the blooming year.

"O! vales, and wild woods," shall he say,

** In yonder grave you. Proj] 1:29:"' But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide

No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side

IM Ttm insided in the mighbt homi Whose cold turf hides the buried friend! and some time before his death

1 * Mr. Thomson was buried in Richmond church.


JOHN DYER, an agreeable poet, was the son of a His health being now in a delicate stale, he was solicitor at Aberglasney, in Carmarthenshire, where advised by his friends to take orders; and he was he was born in 1700. He was brought up at West- accordingly ordained by Dr. Thomas, Bishop of minster-school, and was designed by his father for his Lincoln; and, entering into the married state, he own profession ; but being at liberiy, in consequence sat down on a small living in Leicestershire. This of his father's death, to follow his own inclination, he exchanged for one in Lincolnshire; but the senny he indulged what he took for a natural taste in country in which he was placed did not agree with painting, and entered as pupil to Mr. Richardson. his health, and he complained of the want of books After wandering for some time about South Wales and company. In 1757, he published his largest and the adjacent counties as an itinerant artist, he work, “ The Fleece," a didactic poem, in four books, appeared convinced that he should not attain to of which the first part is pastoral, the second me. eminence in that profession. In 1727, he first made chanical, the third and fourth historical and geohimself known as a poet, by the publication of his graphical. This poem has never been very popu“Grongar Hill,” descriptive of a scene afforded by lar, many of its topics not being well adapted to his native country, which became one of the most poetry; yet the opinions of critics have varied popular pieces of its class, and has been admitted concerning it. It is certain that there are many into numerous collections. Dyer then travelled to pleasing, and some grand and impressive passages Italy, still in pursuit of professional improvement; in the work; but, upon the whole, the general and if he did not acquire this in any considerable feeling is, that the length of the performance degree, he improved his poetical taste, and laid in a necessarily imposed upon it a degree of tediousstore of new images. These he displayed in a poem ness. of some length, published in 1740, which he entitled Dyer did not long survive the completion of his “ The Ruins of Rome," that capital having been the book. He died of a gradual decline in 1758, leavprincipal object of his journeyings. Of this working behind him, besides the reputation of an ingeni. it may be said, that it contains many passages of ous poet, the character of an honest, humane and real poetry, and that the strain of moral and politi- worthy person. cal reflection denotes a benevolent and enlightened mind.


SILENT nymph, with curious eye!
Who, the purple evening, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man;
Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet sings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale;-
Come, with all thy various dues,
Come and aid thy sister Muse;
Now, while Phæbus riding high,
Gives lustre to the land and sky!
Grongar Hill invites my song,
Draw the landscape bright and strong ;
Grongar, in whose mossy cells
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,

So oft I have, che evening still,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sate upon a flowery bed,
With my hand beneath my head ;
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead and over wood,
From house to house, from hill to hill,
Till Contemplation had her fill.

About his chequer'd sides I wind,
And leave his brooks and meads behind
And groves, and grottoes where I lay,
And vistas shooting beams of day.
Wide and wider spreads the vale,
As circles on a smooth canal :
The mountains round, unhappy fate!
Sooner or later, of all height,
Withdraw their summits from the skies,
And lessen as the others rise :
Still the prospect wider spreads,
Adds a thousand woods and meads ;
Still it widens, widens still,
And sinks the newly-risen hill.

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