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The blights of envy, of those insect-elouds, Till moral, public, gracefut action crowns
The whole. Behold! the fair contention glows,
Barbarian pedants, wrangling sons of pride,
And truth-perplexing metaphysic wits,
"Lo! Justice, like the liberal light of Heaven,
Have thrown around the laws. Oppression grieves: Creating toil and Nature can produce."
See! how her legal furies bite the lip, Here ceas’d the goddess; and her ardent wings, While Yorks and Talbots their deep snares detect, Dipt in the colors of the heavenly bow,
And seize swift justice through the clouds they raise. Stood waving radiance round, for sudden flight "See ! social Labor lifts his guarded head, Prepar'd, when thus, impatient, burst my prayer. And men not yield to government in vain. “Oh, forming light of life! O, better Sun! From the sure land is rooted ruffian force, Sun of mankind! by whom the cloudy north, And, the lewd nurse of villains, idle waste ; [bowl, Sublim'd, not envies Languedocian skies,
Lo! raz'd their haunts, down dash'd their maddening That, unstain'd ether all, diffusive smile :
A nation's poison! beauteous order reigns !
From the foul herd of brutal slaves thy sons,
Despairing Gaul her boiling youth restrains, * They come! great goddess ! I the times behold! Dissolv'd her dream of universal sway: The times our fathers, in the bloody field, The winds and seas are Britain's wide domain; Have earn'd so dear, and, not with less renown, And not a sail, but by permission, spreads. In the warm struggles of the Senate fight.
“Lo! swarming southward on rejoicing sons, The times I see! whose glory to supply,
Gay colonies extend ; the calm retreat For toiling ages, commerce round the world Of undeserv'd distress, the better home Has wing'd unnumber'd sails, and from each land of those whom bigots chase from foreign lands, Materials heap'd, that, well-employ'd, with Rome Not built on rapine, servitude, and woe, Might vie our grandeur, and with Greece our art. And in their turn some petty tyrant's prey ;
"Lo! princes I behold! contriving still, But, bound by social freedom, firm they rise ; And still conducting firm some brave design ; Such as, of late, an Oglethorpe has form'd, Kings ! that the narrow joyless circle scorn, And, crowding round, the charm'd Savannah sees. Burst the blockade of false designing men,
Horrid with want and misery, no more Of treacherous smiles, of adulation fell,
Our streets the tender passenger afflict. And of the blinding clouds around them thrown: Nor shivering age, nor sickness without friend, Their court rejoicing millions; worth alone, Or home, or bed to bear his burning load, And virtue dear to them; their best delight, Nor agonizing infant, that ne'er earn'd In just proportion to give general joy :
Its guiltless pangs, I see! The stores, profuse, Their jealous care thy kingdom to maintain ; Which British bounty has to these assign’d, The public glory theirs; unsparing love
No more the sacrilegious riot swell Their endless treasure; and their deeds their praise. Or cannibal devourers! Right applied, With thee they work. Nought can resist your force: No starving wretch the land of freedom stains. Life feels it quickening her dark retreats ; If poor, employment finds; if old, demands; Strong spread the blooms of genius, science, art; If sick, if maim'd, his miserable due ; His bashful bounds disclosing merit breaks ; And will, if young, repay the fondest care. And, big with fruits of glory, virtue blows Sweet sets the sun of stormy life, and sweet Expansive o'er the land. Another race
The morning shines, in mercy's dews array'd. Of generous youth, of patriot-sires, I see!
Lo! how they rise! these families of Heaven! Not those vain insects fluttering in the blaze That!* chief, (but why—ye bigots !-why so lato ?) Of court, and ball, and play; those venal souls, Where blooms and warbles glad a rising age : Corruption's veteran unrelenting bands,
What smiles of praise ! and while their song ascends, 'Thai, to their vices slaves, can ne'er be free. The listening seraph lays his lute aside.
" I see the fountain's purg'd; whence life derives “ Hark! the gay Muses raise a nobler strain,
of various string, and heart-felt image fillid.
* An hospital for foundlings.
Restor'd: behold! the well-dissembled scene
Oh! if thou hover'st round my walk, Calls from embellish'd eyes the lovely tear,
While under every well-known tree, Or lights up mirth in modest cheeks again.
I to thy fancied shadow talk,
And every tear is full of thee;
Should then the weary eye of grief,
Beside some sympathetic stream, O'er the brute scene its ouran-outangs * pours;
In slumber find a short relief, Detested forms! that, on the mind imprest,
O visit thou my soothing dream! Corrupt, confound, and barbarize an age.
“ Behold! all thine again the sister-arts, Thy graces they, knit in harmonious dance. Nurs'd by the treasure from a nation drain'd
THE HAPPY MAN. Their works to purchase, they to nobler rouse
He's not the Happy Man, to whom is given Their untam'd genius, their unfetter'd thought;
A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven; Of pompous tyrants, and of dreaming monks,
Whose gilded roofs on shining columns rise, The gaudy tools, and prisoners, no more.
And painted walls enchant the gazer's eyes; “Lo! numerous domes a Burlington confess :
Whose table flows with hospitable cheer, For kings and senates fit, the palace see!
And all the various bounty of the year; The temple breathing a religious awe;
Whose valleys smile, whose gardens breathe the Ev'n fram'd with elegance the plain retreat,
Spring, The private dwelling. Certain in his aim,
Whose carved mountains bleat, and forests sing ; Taste, never idly working, saves expense. “See ! Sylvan scenes, where, Art, alone, pretends while his full cellars
give their generous wines ;
For whom the cooling shade in Summer twines, To dress her mistress, and disclose her charms:
From whose wide fields unbounded Autumn pours Such as a Pope in miniature has shown;
A golden tide into his swelling stores: A Bathurst o'er the widening forestt spreads;
Whose Winter laughs; for whom the liberal gales And such as form a Richmond, Chiswick, Stowe.
Stretch the big sheet, and toiling commerce sails ; “ August, around, what public works I see!
When yielding crowds attend, and pleasure serves, Lo! stately streets, lo! squares that court the breeze, While youth, and health, and vigor string his nerves In spite of those to whom pertains the care,
Ev'n not at all these, in one rich lot combind, Ingulfing more than founded Roman ways.
Can make the Happy Man, without the mind; Lo! ray'd from cities o'er the brighten'd land,
Where Judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys Connecting sea to sea, the solid road.
The chain of Reason with unerring gaze ; Lo! the proud arch (no vile exactor's stand)
Where Fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes With easy sweep besirides the chafing flood.
His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise ; See! long canals, and deepen'd rivers, join
Where social Love exerts her soft command, Each part with each, and with the circling main
And plays the passions with a tender hand,
Whence every virtue flows, in rival strise,
HARD is the fate of him who loves,
Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, Rush'd the still ruins of dejected Rome.
But to the sympathetic groves,
But to the lonely listening plain.
Oh! when her footsteps next are seen
In flowery tracts along the mead,
In fresher mazes o'er the green,
Ye gentle spirits of the vale,
To whom the tears of love are dear,
From dying lilies waft a gale,
And sigh my sorrows in her ear.
O, tell her what she cannot blame,
Though fear my tongue must ever bind
O, tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotless soul refin'd.
Not her own guardian angel eyes * A creature which, of all brutes, most resembles man.
With chaster tenderness his care, - See Dr. 'Tyson's treatise on this animal.
Not purer her own wishes rise, t Okely woods, near Cirencester.
Not holier her own sighs in prayer.
But if, at first, her virgin fear
Should start at love's suspected name, With that of friendship soothe her ear
True love and friendship are the same.
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
Bid us sigh on from day to day,
But busy, busy, still art thou,
Oh! how I love with thee to walk,
A thousand shapes you wear with ease,
Thine is the balmy breath of morn,
Descending angels bless thy train,
Oh, let me pierce thy secret cell!
For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,
O NIGHTINGALE, best poet of the grove,
That plaintive strain can ne'er belong to thee Blest in the full possession of thy love:
O lend that strain, sweet nightingale, to me!
"Tis mine, alas ! to mourn my wretched fate :
I love a maid, who all my bosom charms, Yet lose my days without this lovely mate;
Inhuman Fortune keeps her from my arms. You, happy birds! by Nature's simple laws
Lead your soft lives, sustain'd by Nature's fare ; You dwell wherever roving fancy draws,
And love and song is all your pleasing care :
vain slaves of interest and of pride, Dare not be blest lest envious tongues should
REV. MR. MURDOCH, blame : And hence, in vain I languish for my bride;
RECTOR OF STRADDISHALL, IN SUFFOLK, 1738. O mourn with me, sweet bird, my hapless flame. Thus safely low, my friend, thou canst not fall:
Here reigns a deep tranquillity o'er all;
Men, woods, and fields, all breathe untroubled life
Then keep each passion down, however dear;
Trust me the tender are the most severe. Harl, mildly-pleasing Solitude,
Guard, while 'tis thine, thy philosophic ease, Companion of the wise and good,
And ask no joy but that of virtuous peace; But, from whose holy, piercing eye,
That bids defiance to the storms of Fate, The herd of fools and villains fly.
High bliss is only for a higher state.
AMBROSE Philips, a poet and miscellaneous who found his own juvenile pastorals undervalued, writer, was born in 1671, claiming his descent from sent to the same paper a comparison between his an ancient Leicestershire family. He received his and those of Philips, in which he ironically gave education at St. John's College, Cambridge ; and, the preference to the latter. The irony was not attaching himself to the Whig party, he published, detected till it encountered the critical eye of Ad. in 1700, an epitome of Hacker's life of Archbishop dison; and the consequence was, that it ruined the Williams, by which he obtained an introduction to reputation of Philips as a composer of pastoral. Addison and Steele. Soon after, he made an at When the accession of George I. brought the tempt in pastoral poetry, which, for a time, brought Whigs again into power, Philips was made a Westhim into celebrity. In 1709, being then at Copen-minster justice, and, soon after, a commissioner for hagen, he addressed to the earl of Dorset some the lottery. In 1718, he was the editor of a periverses, descriptive of that capital, which are re- odical paper, called " The Freethinker." In 1724, garded as his best performance; and these, together he accompanied to Ireland his friend Dr. Boulter, with two translations from Sappho's writings, created archbishop of Armagh, to whom he acted stand pre-eminent in his works of this class. In as secretary. He afterwards represented the county 1712 he made his appearance as a dramatic writer, of Armagh in parliament; and the places of secrein the tragedy of “ The Distrest Mother," acted at tary to the Lord Chancellor, and Judge of the PreDrury-lane with great applause, and still considered rogative Court, were also conferred upon him. He as a stock play. It cannot, indeed, claim the merit returned to England in 1748, and died in the fol. of originality, being closely copied from Racine's lowing year, at the age of seventy-eight. “ Andromacque;" but it is well written, and skil. The verses which he composed, not only to fully adapted to the English stage.
young ladies in the nursery, but to Walpole when A storm now fell upon him relatively to his pas. Minister of State, and which became known by the torals, owing to an exaggerated compliment from ludicrous appellation of namby-pamby, are easy and Tickell, who, in a paper of the Guardian, had made sprightly, but with a kind of infantile air, which the true pastoral pipe descend in succession from fixed upon them the above name. Theocritus to Virgil, Spenser, and Philips. Pope,
The starving wolves along the main sea prowl, TO THE EARL OF DORSET.
And to the Moon in icy valleys howl.
O'er many a shining league the level main
Here spreads itself into a glassy plain :
No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring, The face of Nature in a rich disguise, No birds within the desert region sing.
And brighten'd every object to my eyes : The ships, unmov'd, the boisterous winds defy, For every shrub, and every blade of grass, While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
And every pointed thorn, seem'd wrought in glass ; The vast Leviathan wants room to play,
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, And spout his waters in the face of day.
While through the ice the crimson berries glow.
The thick-sprung reeds, which watery marshes yield, The birds, dismiss'd, (while you remain,) Seem'd polish'd lances in a hostile field.
Bore back their empty car again : The stag, in limpid currents, with surprise,
Then you, with looks divinely mild, Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise.
In every heavenly feature smild,
And why I call'd you to my aid ?
What frenzy in my bosom rag'd,
And by what care to be assuag'd ? The brittle forest into atoms flies,
What gentle youth I would allure, The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
Whom in my artful toils secure ? And in a spangled shower the prospect ends :
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?
Though now he shuns thy longing arms, And journeys sad beneath the dropping trees :
He soon shall court thy slighted charms ; Like some deluded peasant, Merlin leads
Though now thy offerings he despise, Through fragrant bowers, and through delicious
He soon to thee shall sacrifice; meads :
Though now he freeze, he soon shall burn, While here enchanted gardens to him rise,
And be thy victim in his turn.
Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore !
In pity come and ease my grief, A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
Bring my distemper'd soul relief:
Favor thy suppliant's hidden fires,