Is it his grafp of empire to extend ?
To curb the fury of insulting foes?
Ambition, cease; the idle contest end :
'Tis but a kingdom thou canst win or lose.
And why must murder'd myriads lose their all!
(If life be all;) why Desolation lour,
With famish'd frown, on this affrighted ball,
That thou may'st flame the meteor of an hour?
Go, wiser ye, that flutter life away,

Crown with the mantling juice the goblet high;
Weave the light dance, with festive freedom gay,
And live your moment, fince the next ye die !
Yet know, vain scepticks, know, th' Almighty mind,
Who breath'd on man a portion of his fire,
Bade his free soul, by earth nor time confin'd,
To heav'n, to immortality aspire.
Nor shall the pile of hope his mercy rear'd,
By vain philosophy be e'er destroy'd :
Eternity, by all or wish'd or fear'd,

Shall be, by all, or fuffer'd or enjoy'd!

NOTE, In a book of French verses, intitled, Ocuvres du Pbilofophe de fans Souci, and lately reprinted at Berlin by authority, under the title of Poefies Diverses, may be found an Epistle to Marshal Keith, written professedly against the immortality of the soul. By way of specimen of the whole, take the following lines.

De l'avenir, cher Keith, jugeons par le passe:
Comme avant que je fusse il n'avoit point pensé;
De meme, apres ma mort, quand toutes mes parties
Par la corruption seront aneanties,

Par un meme destin il ne pensera plus!

Non, rien n'est plus certain, soyons-en convaincu.

It is to this Epistle, that the latter part of the Elegy alludes.

WHEN, approach'd by the fair dewy fingers of Spring,

Swelling buds open first, and look gay;

When the birds on the boughs by their mates fit and fing,
And are danc'd by the breeze on each spray :

When gently descending, the rain in soft showers,
With it's moisture refreshes the ground;

And the drops, as they hang on the plants and the flowers,
Like rich gems beam a lustre around :

When the wood-pigeons fit on the branches and coo;
And the cuckoo proclaims with his voice,
That Nature marks this for the season to woo,
And for all that can love to rejoice:

In a cottage at night may I spend all my time,
In the fields and the meadows all day,
With a maiden whose charms are as yet in their prime,
Young as April, and blooming as May!

When the lark with shrill notes sings aloft in the morn,
May my fairest and I sweetly wake,

View the far distant hills, which the fun-beams adorn,
Then arife, and our cottage forsake.

When

When the fun shines so warm, that my charmer and I
May recline on the turf without fear,

Let us there all vain thoughts and ambition defy,
While we breathe the first sweets of the year.

3

Be this spot on a hill, and a spring from it's fide
Bubble out, and transparently flow,
Creep gently along in meanders, and glide

Thro' the vale strew'd with daisies below.

While the bee flies from blossom to blossom, and fips,
And the violets their sweetness impart,
Let me hang on her neck, and so taste from her lips
The rich cordial that thrills to the heart.

While the dove fits lamenting the loss of it's mate,
Which the fowler has caught in his snares,
May we think ourselves bless'd that it is not our fate
To endure such an absence as theirs.

May I listen to all her foft, tender, sweet notes,
When the fings, and no founds interfere,

But the warbling of birds, which in stretching their throats
Are at ftrife to be louder than her.

When the daifies, and cowflips, and primroses blow,
And chequer the meads and the lawns,

May we fee bounding there the swift light-footed doe,
And pursue with our eye the young fawns.

:

:

When the lapwings, just fledg'd, o'er the turf take their run,
And the firstlings are all at their play,

And the harmless young lambs skip about in the fun,
Let us then be as frolick as they.

When

17

When I talk of my love, should I chance to espy
That she seems to mistrust what I fay,
By a tear that is ready to fall from her eye,
With my lips let me wipe it away.

If we fit, or we walk, may I cast round my eyes,
And let no single beauty escape;
But fee none to create so much love and surprize,
As her eyes, and her face, and her shape.

Thus each day let us pass, till the buds turn to leaves,
And the meadows around us are mown;
When the lass on the sweet-smelling haycock receives
What she afterwards blushes to own.

When evenings grow cool, and the flow'rs hang their heads
With the dew, then no longer we'll roam ;

With my arm round her waist, in a path thro' the meads,
Let us haften to find our way home.

When the birds are at rooft, with their heads in their wings,
Each one by the fide of it's mate;

When a mist that arises, a drowsiness brings
Upon all but the owl and the bat:

When soft rest is requir'd, and the stars lend their light,
And all nature lies quiet and still;

When no sound breaks the sacred repose of the night,
But, at diftance, the clack of a mill:

With peace for our pillow, and free from all noise,
So that voices in whispers are known;
Let us give and receive all the nameless soft joys
That are mus'd on by lovers alone.

T

*

Da

SUMII. SUMMER.

WHERE the light cannot pierce, in a grove of tall trees.

With my fair-one as blooming as May,

Undisturb'd by all found, but the fighs of the breeze,
Let me pass the hot noon of the day.

When the fun, less intense, to the westward inclines,
For the meadows the groves we'll forsake,
And fee the rays dance as inverted he shines,
On the face of some river or lake:

Where my fairest and I, on it's verge as we pass,
(For 'tis she that must still be my theme)
Our two shadows may view on the watery glass,
While the fish are at play in the stream.

:

May the herds cease to low, and the lambkins to bleat,

When she sings me some amorous strain; All be filent, and hush'd, unless echo repeat

:

The kind words and sweet sounds back again.

And when we return to our cottage at night,

Hand in hand as we sauntering stray,

Let the moon's silver beams thro' the leaves give us light,
Just direct us, and chequer our way.

Let the nightingale warble it's notes in our walk,
As thus gently and flowly we move;

And let ne single thought be express'd in our talk,
But of friendship improv'd into love.

Thus enchanted each day with these rural delights,
And secure from ambition's alarms,

Soft love and repose shall divide all our nights,
And each morning shall rife with new charms.

III. A U