MOSES E%T s , /w /te . , PutluKd by J.JareUyCerrMU. i August, 1 A COLLECTION OF THE Mod efteemed PIECES of POE T R y, That have appeared for feveral YEARS. WITH VARIETY OF ORIGINALS, By the Late MOSES MENDEZ, Efq; And other Contributors to DODSLEY's To which this is intended as a SUPPLEMENT, THE SECOND EDITION, LONDON; Printed for Richardfon andUrquhart, under Use R oyr.l ExtJ : - MDCCLXX. ADVERTISEMENT. TH E Editor's chief intention in making the fol- lowing Collection was to bring into one point of view the beft pieces which have appeared iince the con- clufion of Dodiley's Collection ; and he will venture to affirm, that whatever be the merit of that entertaining mifcellany, this does not fall fhort any ways of it, as fome of the volumes in that are made up from the publi- cations of a* few years ; whereas this contains whatever has been moft applauded in a courfe of twenty. But he has not confined hirnfelf to that period only, but in- ferted many pieces, in his opinion, of great merit, which the inattention of the public, or the obfcurity of the publication, had long fuffered to remain 1 unnoticed. To thefe are added many originals by writers of acknow- ledged merit ; among which thofe of Mr. Mendez, au- thor of the Chaplet, and feveral admired poems in Dodfley's Mifcellany, make no mean figure. Mr. Mendez was reckoned among the moft agreeable poets cf his time, and, perhaps, he was the only one that v,-as ever worth one hundred thoufand pounds. . &5G7 CONTENTS. Page AN Elegy on the Death of Lady Coventry. By") W. Mafon, M. A. $ Ifis. An Elegy. By the fame 6 Oriental Eclogues. By Mr. William Collins 1 1 Eclogue I. Selim ; or, the Shepherd's Moral ibid. - II. Kaftan ; or, the Camel-Driver 14 III. Abra; or, the Georgian Sultana 17 IV. Agib and Secander ; or, the Fugitives 20 An Ode to Fear. By the fame 23 The Paffions. An Ode for Mufic. By the fame 26. Every Man the Architect of his own Fortune; or, ~) the Art of Rifing in the Church. A Satire. S 31 By Mr. Scott of Trinity-College, Cambridge 5 ToPJeafure. An Ode. By the fame 44' Edwin and Angelina. A Ballad. By Dr. Goldfmith 49 The Gift : To Iris. By the fame 56 Cit's Country-box, 1757. By Robert Lloyd, A. M. 57 The Actor. By the fame 6 1 William and Margaret. By David Mallet, Efq; 71 Zephir; or, the Statagem. By the fame 75 Edwin and Emma. By the fame. . 8z A Prayer for Indifference. By Mr. Greville ' 87 To Sicknefs. An Elegy. By Mr. Delap 90 Verfes to the People of England, 1758. By W. ? Whitehead, Efq; Poet Laureat J A Song. Written to a Lady 98 To a Lady before Marriage. By the late ingenious ") Mr. Tickell S b Prologue CONTENTS. Page Prologue upon Prologues. By Mr. Garrick 102 Mr. Foote's Addrefs to the Public, after aPrcfecu-? ^ tion againft him for a Libel j Prologue to the Englilhman at Bourdeaux 1 06 Epilogue 107 An Ode on St, Caecilia'i Day. By Bonnel Thornton, / Advice to the Marquis of Rockingham upon a late ) Gccafion. Written in 1765. By an old > 114. Courtier - \ Bryan and Pereene. A Weft Indian Ballad 115 The Pafiionate Shepherd to his Love. An old Ballad 118 My Mind to me a Kingdom is. An old Ballad 1 19 Cupid's Paftiine. An ok: Sonnet izi Admiral Hofiers Ghoft. Ii Mr. Glcver 123 The Shepherd's Rclblutiuii. An old Ballad. By? f George Wither ' $ ' The Stedi alt Shepherd. By the fan, e 128 Autumn. By Mr. Brerewood 131 The Pin. LyMr. Woty 134 A Prefent to a Young Lady. With a Pair of Stock- ? ,- ings. By , Fellow of Cambridge .1 ! 3 A Dialogue between a Poet and his Servant. By ? the late Mr. Chriit. Pitt 5 I3 9 I'he Recantation. An Ode . 143 Verfes written upon a Pcdeftal beneath a Row of } Eic:s in a Me. id w near Richmond Ferry, be- ( /- longing to Richard Owen Cambridge, Efq; ? l ^ Sept. 1760 J Song 149 The Genius of Britain. An Iambic Ode 150 Petrarch and Laura. An Epigrammatic Tale 154. To V- inter. By Mr. Woty ^ An Epvule of M. De Voltaire, upon his Arrival at his Eflate near the Lake of Geneva, 1755. J- 158 Fr^m the French The Winter's Walk. By Samuel Johnfon, LL. D. Epitaph on Claudius Phillips. By the fame 1 CONTENTS. The Poor Man's Prayer. Addrefied to Lord Chatham An Epitaph. Written by Mr. Caleb Smith upon 7 his Wife J To Apollo making Love. From Monfieur Fonte-o nelle. By Thomas Tickell, Efq; 5 The Author's Account of his Journey to Ireland. 1 By Moies Mendez, Efq; To Mr. S. Tucker. By the fame On the Winter Solftice, 1740. By Dr. Akenfide. The Poet and his Patron. By Mr. Moore The Wolf, Sheep, and Lamb. By the fame The Tears of Scotland. Written in the Year 1746 Cacfar's Dream before his Invafion of Britain. By 7 Mr. Langhorne t 3 The Eagle and Robin Red Breaft. A Fable. By \ Mr. Archibald Scott J The Nun. An Elegy The Rookery A Receipt how to make L'Eau De Vie. By the 9 late Mr. Charles King - $ Day: A Paftoral. By Mr. Cunningham Content : A Paftoral. By the fame Corydon : A Paftjral. To the Memory of Wil- 7 Ham Shenftone, Efq; By the fame Melody. By the fame The Houfe of Superitition. A Vifion. By Mr. Denton The Triumph of Ifis. By Dr. Thomas Warton Newmarket. A Satire. By the fame Ode to Ambition. By Mr. Shepherd Ode to Health. By the fame Liberty. A Poem - Modern Virtue. A Satire Page ib. 170 171 172 179 185 189 192 196 199 202 212 214 22O 222 223 225 231 240 249 2 55 259 271 279 A Monody to the Memory of Mrs. Marg. Woffington The Cure of Saul. A Sacred Ode. By Dr. Brown Ode to the Genius of Shakefpear. ByJ.Ggilvie, M.A. 290 Laura; or, the Complaint. An Elegy. By James ) ,- Marriott, LL.D. ' J 2 ^ The Seafons. By Mofes Mendez, Efq; 30; AN ELEGY, ON THE DEATH OF LADY COVENTRY. 1VRITTEN IN 1760, BY WILLIAM MASON, M. A. TH E midnight clock has toll'd ; ?.nd hark, the bell Of Death beats flow ! heard ye the note profound ? It paufes now; and now, with riling knell, Flings to the hollow gale its fulien found. Yes, COVENTRY is dead. Attend the ftrain, Daughters of Albion ! Ye that, light as air, So oft have tript in her fantaftic train, With hearts as gay, and faces half as fair : A For [ * ] For Ihe was fair beyond your brighteft bloom : (This Envy owns, fmce now her bloom is fled) Fajr as the Forms that, wove in Fancy's loom, Float in light vifion round the Poet's head. Whene'er with fofrferenity me fmil'd, Or caught the orient blufh cf quick furprize, H6 Boaft but the worth Baffora's pearls difplay; Drawn from the deep we o\vn their furiace bright, But, dark within, they drink no lufirous light : Such are the maids, and fuch the charms they boafl, By fenfe unaided, or to virtue loft. Self-flattering fex ! your hearts believe in vain Tkat love fhail blind, when once he fires the fwain ; Or [ '3 1 Or hope ?. lover by your faults to \v;:-. As foots en ermin beautify the fcin : Who feeks fecure to rule, be firft her care Each fofter virtue that adorns the fair; Each tender paf!;cn man delights to find, The lov'd perfections of a female mind ! Elefl were the days, when wifdom held her reign, And fhepherJs fought htr en the fuent plain ; With 1 ruth fhe wedded in the fecret grove, Immortal Truth, and daughters blcfs'd their love. O hafte, fair maids ! ye Virtues come away, Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way ! The balmy fiirub, for you fhall love our Ihore, By Lid excell'd or Araby no more. Loft to our fields, for fo the fates ord.vl:i, The dear dcfertcrs fha.Il return again. Come thou, whofe thoughts as limpid fprings are clear, To lead the train, fweet modefty appear : Here make thy court arnidit our rural fcc-ne, And fhepherd giils frail c\vn thee fcr their queen. With thec be Cixaility, of all afraid Diflruftin^ rJl, a \.ife fu^-icious maid; But man the moil not more the mountain doe Holds the fwift f:i!ccn for her deadly foe. Ccld is her breair, .ink the dew ; A filken veil conceals her from the view. No wild defires arnidit thy train be kucwn, But Fn.iih, whofe neart is hx'd on one alone : Dcfponding Meeknefs, with her down-caft eyes, And friendly Pity, full of tender %hs; And [ '4 ] And love the laft : by thefe your hearts approve, Thefe are the virtues that muft lead to love. Thus fung the Twain ; and ancient legends fay; The maids of Bagdat verified the lay : Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along, The fhepherds lov'd, and Selim blefs'd his fong. ECLOGUE II. HASSAN; OR, THE C AMEL-D RIVE R. SCENE, THE DESERT. TIME, MID-DAY. IN filent horror o'er the boundlefs wafte The driver Haflan with his camels pail : One cruife of water on his back he bore, And his light fcrip contain'd a fcanty ftore ; A fan of painted feathers in his hand, To guard his fhaded face from fcorching fand. The fultry fun had gain'd the middle fky, And not a tree, and not an herb was nigh ; The beafts, with pain, their dufty way purfue, Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view ! With [ 15 1 With defperate forrow wild, th' affrighted man Thrice figh'd, thrice ftruck his breaft, and thus began r " Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, " When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !'* Ah ! little thought I of the blafting wind, The thirft or pinching hunger that I find ! Bethink thee, Hafian, where mall Thirft aflvvage, When fails this cruife, his unrelenting rage ? Soon {hall this fcrip its precious load refign ; Then what but tears and hunger mall be thine? Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear In all my griefs a more than equal mare ! Here, where no fprings in, murmurs break away, Or mofs-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, lu vain ye hope the ^green delights to know, Which plains more blelr, or verdant vales beftow : Here rocks alone, and taftelefs fands are found, And faint and fickly winds for ever howl around. " Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, " When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !" Curft be the gold and filver which perfuade Weak men to follow far-fatiguing trade ! The lilly peace outfhines the filver ftore, And life is dearer than the golden ore : Yet money tempts us o'er the defert brown, To every diftant mart and wealthy town. Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the fea : And are we only yet repay'd by thee ? Ah ! why was ruin fo attractive made, Or why fond man fo eafily betray'd ? Why Why keed we not, while mad we haite along, The gentle voice of peace, or pleafure's fong ? Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's fide, The mountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride, Why think we thefe lefs pleaiing to behold, Than dreary deferts, if they lead to gold ? *' Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, " When firft frcm Schiraz' walls I bent my way 1" O ceafe, my fears ! all frantic as I go, When thought creates unnumber'd fcenes of woe, What if the lion in his rage I meet ! Oft in the duil I view his printed feet : And fearful ! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger rous'd, he fcours the groaning plain, Gaunt wolves and fullen tygers in his train : Before them death with fciieks directs their way, Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. " Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, " When firftfrom Schiraz' walls I bent my way !'/ At that dead hour the filent afp ihaU creep, If aught of reft I find, upon my fleep : Or fome fwoln ferpent twift his fcales around, And wake to anguilh with a burning wound. Thrice happy they, the wife contented poor, From luft of wealth, and dread of death fecure ! They tempt no deferts, and no griefs they find; Peace rules the day, where reafon rules the mind. " Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, " When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !" O ha [ '7 ] O haplefs youth ! for fhe thy love hath won, The tender Zara will be mpft undone ! Big fwell'd my heart, and cnvn'd the powerful maid, When faft me dropt her tears, as thus me faid: " Farewell the ycuth whom fighs could not detain, " Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain ! " Yet as thou go'it, may every blaft arife " Weak and unfelt as thefe rejefted fighs ! " Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'il thou fee, " No griefs endure, nor weep, falfe youth, like me." O ! let me fafely to the fair return, Say with a kifs, me muft not, mall not mourn ; O ! let me teach my heart to lofe its fears, .RecalPd by Wifdom's voice, and Zara's tears. He faid, and call'd on heaven to blefs the day, When back to Schiraz* walls he beat his way. ECLOGUE III. ABRA; OR, THE GEORGIAN SULTANA. J SCENE, A FOREST. TIME, THE EVENING. : . IN Georgia's land, where Tefflis' towers are feen, In diftant view along the level green, While evening dews enrich the glittering glade, And the tall foreils call a longer {hade, B What C is j What time 'tis fweet a'er fields of rice to Or fcent the breathing maize at fetting day ; Amidft the' maids of Zagen's peaceful grove, Emyra fung the pleafing cares of love. Of A bra firft began the tender ftrain, Who led her youth with flocks upon the plain : At morn ihe came thofe willing flocks to lead,- Where lilies rear them in the watery mead ; From early dawn the live-long hours me told, 'Till late at filent eve me penn'd the fold. Deep in the grove, beneath the fecret made, A various wreath of odorous flowers ihe made : Gay-motley'd pinks and fweet jonquils fhe chofe, The violet blue that on the mofs-bank grows ; All-fweet to fenfe, the flaunting rofe was there '. The finifh'd chapier welf-adorn y d her hair. Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to ftray, By love conducted from the chace away ; Among the vocal vales he heard her fong, And fought the vales and echoing groves among : At length he found, and woo'd the rural maid ; She knew the monarch, and with fear obey'd, " Be ever youth like royal Abbas mov'd. " And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !*' The royal lover bore her from the plain ; Yet ftill her crook and bleating flock remain : Oft as Ihe went, (he backward turn'd her view, Andb;id that crook and bleating flock adieu. Fair ha py maid ! to other fcenes remove, To richer fcenes of golden power and love 1 [ '9 1 Go, leave the fimple pipe, and fhepherd's ftrain j With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign. " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd, " And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !" Yet midft the blaze of courts fhe fix'd her love On the cool fountain, or the fhady grove ; Still with the fhepherd's innocence her mind To the fweet vale, and flowery mead inclin'd; And oft as fpring renevv'd the plains with flowers, Breath'd his foft gales, and led the fragrant hours, With fure return fhe fought the fylvan fcene, The breezy mountains, and the forefts green. Her maids around her mov'd, a duteous band ! Each bore a crook all-rural in her hand : Some fimple lay, of flocks and herds they fung : With joy the mountain, and the foreft rung. " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd, " And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !" And oft the royal lover left the care And thorns of ftate, attendant on the fair ; Oft to the fhades and low-roofd cots retir'd, Or fought the vale where firft his heart was fir'd ; A ruflet mantle, like a fwain, he wore, A nd thought of crowns and bufy courts no more. " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd, " And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd '.'* Bleft was the life, that royal Abbas led : Sweet was his love, and innocent his bed. What if in wealth the noble maid excel, The fimple fhepherd girl can love as well. B a Let Let thofe who rule on Perfia's jewell'd throne Be fam'd for love, and gentleft love alone ; Orwreath, like Abbas, full of fair renown, The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown. O happy days ! the maids around her fay ; O hafte, profufe of bleffings, hafte away ! " Be every youth, like soyal Abbas, mov'd, " And every Georgian maid, like Abra, lov'd!" E C L O G tJ E IV. AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES. SCENE, A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA. TIME, MIDNIGHT. IN fair Circaffia, where, to love inclin'd, Each fwain was bleft, for every maid was kind ; At that ftill hour, when awful midnight reigns, And none, but wretches, haunt the twilight plains ; What time the moon had hung her lamp on high, And paft in radiance thro' the cloudlefs iky ; Sad o'er the dews, two brother fhepherds fled, Where wildering fear and defperate forrow led : Faft as they preft their flight, behind them lay Wide ravag'd plains, and vallies ftole away. Along the mountain's bending fides they ran, 'Till faint and weak Seconder thus began : SECANDER. SECANDER. O flay thee, Agib, foe my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, O turn thee and furvey, Trace our fad flight thro' all its length of way ! And firft review that long-extended plain ! And yon wide groves, already paft, with pain ! Yon ragged cliff, whofe dangerous path we try'd ! And laft this lofty mountain's weary fide ! AGIB. Weak as thou art, yet haplefs muft thou know The toils of flight, or fome feverer woe ! Still as I hafte, the Tartar fhouts behind, And flirieks and forrovvs load the faddening wind : In rage of heart, with ruin in his hand, He blafts our harvefts and deforms our land. Yon citron grove, whence firft in fear we came, Droops its fair honours to the conquering flame : Far fly the fUains, like us, in deep defpair, And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care. . SECANDER. Unhappy land, whofe bleffings tempt the fvvord, In vain, unheard, thou call'ft thy Perfian lord! In vain thou court'ft him, helplefs, to thine aid, To fhield the fiiepherd, and proteft the maid ! B 3 Far [ 22 ] Far off, in thoughtlefs indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleafure footh his mind : 'Midft fair fultanas loft in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. AGIB. Yet thefe green hills, in fummer's fultry heat, Have lent the monarch oft a cod retreat. Sweet to the fight is Zabran's flowery plain, And once by maids and fhepherds lov'd in vain ! No more the virgin fhall delight to rove By Sargis' banks, or Irvvan's fhady grove ; On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, Or breathe the fweets of Aly's flowery vale : Fair fcenes ! but, ah ; no more with peace pofTeft, With eafe alluring, and with plenty bleft. No more the fhepherd's whitening tents appear, Nor the kind produces of a bounteous year ; No more the date, with fnowy bloJToms crown'd ! But ruin fpreads her baleful fires around. SECANDSR. In vain Circaffia boafts her fpicy groves, For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves : In vain fhe boafts her faireft of the fair, Their eye's blue languim, and their golden hair! T^hofe eyes in tears their fruitlefs grief muft fend ; Thofe hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend. ACIB. C *3 1 AGIB. Ye Georgian fwains that piteous learn from far Circaffia's ruin, and the waile of war; Some weightier arms than, crooks and ftaiFs prepare, To fhield your harvefts, and defend your fair : The Turk and Tartar like defigns purfue, Fix'd to deftroy, and itedfaft to undo. Wild as his land, in native deferts bred, By luft incited, or by malke led, rr-L MI A V -1 i Y lf lW The villam Arab, as he prowls for prey., . Oft marks with, blood and waiting flames the way ; O * Yet none fo cruel as tlie Tartar foe, To death enur'd, and nurs'd in fcenes of woe. He faid ; when loud along the vale was heard to A Ihriller fnriek, and nearer fires aj>pvarM : Th' affrighted Ihepjherds thro' the -dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light ,hllls renc.w'vl their flight. J: ; r^t>t^%tf-it^^ AN ODE TO FEAR. BY THE SAME. THOU, to whom the world unknown With .all its fhadowy fhapes ii fhewn ; Who feeft appall'd th' unreal feene, While Fancy lifts the veil between ; Ah Fear ! ah frantic Fear ! I fee, I fee thee near. 4 I know I know thy hurried ftep, thy haggard eye ! Like thee I ftart, like thee diforder'd fly, For, lo what igniters in thy train appear ! Danger, whofe lirnbs of giant mold What mortal eye can fix'd beheld ? Who ftalks his round, an hideous form, Howling amidft the midnight fiorm, ,, Or throws him on the ridgy fteep Of fome loofe hanging rock tofleep : . And with him thoufand phantoms join'd, Who prompt to deeds accars'd the mind : And thofe, the fiends, who near allied, O'er Nature's wounds, and wrecks prelide; While Vengeance, in 'the lurid air, Lifts her red arm, expo's M and bare : t On whom that ravening Brood of fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, 'wait : Who, 'Fear, this ghaftly train can fee, And look not madly wild, like thee ? EPODE. In earlieft Greece, to thee, with partial choice, The grief-full Mufe addreft her infant tongiie ; The maids and matrons, on her awful voice Silent and pale in wild amazement hung. Yet he, the Bard * who firft invok'd thy name, Difdain'd in Marathon its power to feel : For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame, But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's fteel. * ^Efchylus. But But who is he, whom later garlands grace, Who left a while o'er Hybla's dews to rove, With trembling eyes thy dreary fteps to trace, Where thou and Furies fiiar'd the baleful grove ? Wrapt in thy cloudy veil th' inceftuous Queen * Sigh'd, the fad call her fon and hufband heard, When once alene ir broke the filent fcene, And he the wretch of Thebes no more appear'd. O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart, Thy withering power infpir'd each mournful line, Tho' gentle Pity claim her mingled part, Yet all the thunders of the fcene are thine ! ANTISTROPHE. Thou who fuch weary lengths haft part, Where wilt thou reft, mad Nymph, at hft ? Say, wilt thou fhroud in haunted cell, Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell ? Or in fome hollcw'd feat, 'Gainft which the big waves beat, Hear drowning feamen's cries in tempefb brought ! Dark power, with fhudderingmeek fubmitted thought, Be mine, to read the viiions old, Which thy awakening bards have told : And, left thou meet my blafted view, Hold each itrange tale devoutly true ; Ne'er be I found, by thee o'er-aw'd, In that thrice-hallow'd eve abroad, * Jocafta. When When ghofts, as cottage-maids believe, Their pebbled beds permitted leave, And goblins haunt from fire, or fen, Or mine, or floods, the walks of men ! O thou whofe fpirit moft pofTeft The facred feat of Shakefpear's breaft ! By all that from thy prophet broke, In thy divine emotions fpoke ! Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once lik,e him to feel : His cyprefs wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee B THE PASSIONS, AN ODE FOR MUSIC. BY THE SAME. WHEN Mufic, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece me fung, The Paffions oft, to hear her fhell, Throng'd around her magic cell, Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Pofleft beyond the Mufe's painting ; By turns they felt the glowing mind Difturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd. 'Till once, 'tis faid, when all were fir'd, Fill'd with fury, rapt, infpir'd, 7 From From the fupporting myrtles round They fnatch'd her inftruraents of found, And as they oft had heard apart Sweet leflbns of her forceful art, Each, for madnefs rul'd the hour, Would prove his own cxpreffive power. Firil Fear his hand, its fkill to try, Amid the chords bewilder' d laid, And back recoil'd he knew not why, Even at the found himfelf had made. Next Anger rufh'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings own'd his fecret flings, In one rude clalh he flruck the lyre, And fwept with hurried hand the firings. With woeful meafures wan Defpair Low fullen founds his grief beguil'd, A folemn, ftrange, and mingled air, 'Twas fad by fits, by Harts 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes fo fair, What was thy delighted meafure ? Still it whifper'd promis'd pleafure, And bad the lovely fcenes at diilance hail ! Still would her touch the flrain prolong, And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo flill thro' all the long ; And where her fweetefl theme fhe chofe, A foft refponiive voice was heard at every clofe, And Hope enchanted fmil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. Aad And longer had {he fung, but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rofe, He threw his blood-ftain'd fword in thunder down, And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing-trumpet took, And blew a blaft fo loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of woc~ And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat ; And tho' fometimes, each dreary paufe between, Dejefted Pity at his fide, Her foul fubduing voice applied, Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien, Whileeachflrain'dbaliof fight feem'dburftingfi-om his head. Thy numbers, Jealoufy, to nought were fix'd, Sad proof of thy diftrefsful flate, Of different themes the veering fong was mix'd, And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. With eyes up-rais'd, 'as one infpir'd, Pale Melancholy fat retir'd, And from her wild fequefter'd feat, In notes by diftance m-ide more fweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her penfive foul : And darning foft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the found ; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled meafure Hole, Or [ *9 3 Or o'er fome haunted ftreams with fond delay, Round, an holy calm diffufing, Love of peace, and lonely muiing, In hollow murmurs died away. But O, how alter'd was its fprightlier ton 2 ! When Chearfulnefs, a nymph of healthieft hue, Her bow acrofs her moulder flung, Her bufkins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an infpiring air, that dale and thicket run^,, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ; The oak-crown'd Sifters, and their chafte-eyed queen. Satyrs and fylvan boys were feen. Peeping from forth their alleys green ; Brown Exercife rejoic'd to hear, And Sport leapt up, and feiz'd his beechen fpear. Laft came Joy's ecftatic trial, He with viny crown advancing, Firft to the lively pipe his hand addreft, But foon he faw the brifk awakening viol, Whofe fweet entrancing voice he lov'd the belt. They would have thought, who heard theftrain, They faw in Tempe's vale her native maids, Amidft the feftal founding {hades, To fome unwearied minftrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kifs'd the firings, Love fram'd with mirth, a gay fantaftic round, Loofe were her trefles feen, her zone unbound, And he, amidft his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thoufand odours from his dewy wings. OMufic! [ 3" ] O Mufic ! fphere-defctncled maid, Friend of pleafure, wifdom's aid, Why, Goddefs, why to us denied ? Lay'ft thou thy antient lyre afide ? As in that lov'd Athenian bower, You learn'd an all-commanding power, Thy mimic foul, O nymph endear'di Can well recall what then it heard. Where is thy native iimple hea/t, Devote to virtue, fancy, art ? Arife, as in that elder time, Warm, energic, chafte, fublime ! Thy wonders, in that god-like age, Fill thy recording Sillers page 'Tis faid, and I believe the tale, Thy humbleft reed could more prevail, Had more of ftrength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age, Even all at once together found Caecilia's mingled world of found O bid our vain endeavours ceafe, Revive the juft defigns of Greece, Return in all thy fimple ftate ! Confirm the tales her fons -relate! EVERY [ 3' 1 EVERY MAN THE ARCHITECT OF HIS OWN FORTUNE: OR, THE ART OF RISING IN THE CHURCH. A S A T Y R E. By MR. SCOTT, of Trinity-College, Cambridge. A DIALOGUE betwixt a POET and his FRIEND. OOD friend, forbear the world will fay 'tis fpite, Or difappointment goads you thus to write Some lord hath frown'd ; fome bifhop paft difpute At furly diftance fpurn'd your eager fuit, Preferr'd a dull vile clod of noble earth, And left negle&ed genius, wit, and worth. P. Regards it me what fnarling critics fay ? 'Tis honeft indignation points the way. Thanks to my ftars my infant fleeps are o'er, And dreams deluiive catch my thoughts no more. Let Let cl unify DOGMATUS, with fimp'ring face, Supply the nurfe's, or the footman's place, Make coffee, when my lady calls, or whey, And fetch, and carry, like a two-legg'd tray ; Let blufl'ring G N A T H o fwear with patriot rage, To poor, old, tott'ring TIMON bent with age, " Had you, .my lord, the horfe at MIND EN led, " 'Sdeath, what deftru&ion would your grace have made? '* Like Wantley's dragon you had roar'd, and thunder'd, " And eat'n up Frenchmen hundred after hundred ;" Thus mean and vile let others live, not I, Who fcorn to flatter, and who fear to lye. What honeft man F. Stop, or you ne'er can thrive Sure you're the ftrangeft, fqueamiih wretch alive ! What, in the name of wonder, friend, have you, In life's low vale, with honefcy to do ? 'Tis a dead weight, that will retard you ftill, Oft as you ftrive to clamber up the hill. Strip, and be wife ftrip off all balhful pride, Throw cumbrous honour, virtue, truth afide, Truft up, and girt like VIRRO, mend your pace, The firft, the nimbleft icoundrel in the race. - Go copy TREBIUS P. Copy TREBIUS? Hum And. forfeit peace for all my life to come. Should I devote my fitter's virgin charms To the vile lewdnefs of a patron's* arms, Tot [ 33 ] Too fure my father's injur'd ghoft would rife, Rage on his brow, and horror in his eyes ; Would haunt, would goad me in the focial hall, Or break my reft tho' flumb'ring in a ftall. Oh gracious God, of what thin flimfy gear Is fome men's confcience ! F. Hold, you're too fevere Think when temptations ev'ry fenfe aflail, How ftrong they prove, and human flefh how frail ! When Satan came, by righteous heav'n ordain'd, To tempt the leader of the Chriftian band, He drew, he caught him from the barren wafte, And on the temple's tow'ring funrmit plac'd; And now-a-days, or fage experience lies, From church preferments great temptations rife. Spare TREBIUS then e'en you yourfelf may yield P. Not, friend, 'till vanquifli'd reafon quits the field: Then I, poor madman, 'midft the mad and vain, May Judas-like betray my God for gain ; At HELLUO'S board, where fmokes th' eternal treat, And all the fat on earth bow down, and eat, A genuine fon of LEV i may adore The golden calf, as AARON did before. Then welcome the full levee, where refort Crouds of all ranks to pay their morning court ; The well-rob'd dean with face fo fleek, and fair, And tatter'd CODRUS pale and vran with care, C Whofe [ 34- ] Whofe yearly-breading wife, in mean attire 1 , To feed her hungry brats muil fpin for hire. Hail medley dome, where like the ark we find Clean, and unclean, of ev'ry fort and kind ! Hail medley dome, where three whole hours together; (Shiv'ring in cold, and faint in fultry weather) We brook, athiril and hungry, all delay, And wear in expectation life away ! But hulh ! in conies my lord important, big; Squints thro' his glafs, and buttling makes his wig^ Whofe faucy curls, confin'd in triple tye, With conftant work his bufy hands fupply. He ftops, bows, flares and whifpers out aloud, ' What fpark is yon, that joftles thro' the croud ?" Sir William's heir " enough my dear, good friend,- " Sir William liv'd I think at Ponder's end ; Yes yes Sir William liv'd" Then on he goesy And whifpering this grand fecret crams his nofe Into your wig, and fqueezing every hand, " 'Tis mine to ferve you, Sir Your's to command" Thus kindly breathing many a promife fair, He feeds two rows of gaping fools with air ; Unmeaning gabbles fet retines of fpeech, As papifts pray, or prelates us'dto preach, Makes himfelf o'er in truft, to keep his ground; And FAIRLY GULLS HIS CREDITORS ALL ROUND. With warm delight his words poor COD R us hears, Sweet as the fancy'd mufic of the fpheres ; Then trudges jocund home thro' mire and clay, While plcafing thoughts beguile the long long way ; A fnug t 35 3 A fnug warm living fkims before his eyes, His tithe-pig gruntles, and his grey goofe flies j His lonely fhatter'd cot, all patent with mud, And hemm'd around by many a fragrant flood* Chang'd to a neat, and modern houfe he fees, Built on high ground, and melter'd well with trees ; Spacious in front the chequer'd lawns extend^ With ufeful ponds, and gardens at the end, Where art and nature kindly join to bring The fruits of Autumn, and the flowers of Spring. No more a fun-bttrnt bob the preacher wears, Or coat of ferge, where ev'ry thread appears : Behold him deckt in fpruce and :rim array, With caflbck fhort, and veil of raven-grey ; In powder'd pomp the.fpp.cious grizzle flows, And the broad beaver trembles o'er his nofe. Ah dear delufions, tempt his thoughts no more 5 Leave him untortur'd by defire, though poor 1 What can advance, in thefe degenerate days; When gold, or int'reft all preferment fways, A wretch unbleft by Fortune, and by birth ? Alas, not TER RICK'S parts, or TALBOT'S worth ! Elfe long, long fmcehad honeft BUTLER. Ihone High in the church religion's fpotlefs fun ; Had beam'd around his friendly light to chear The lonely, way-worn, wandring traveller ; Chac'd error's black and baleful fhades away, And pour'd thro' every mind refiftlefs day. Alas, the change ! far in a lowly vale, 'Midft {haggling huts, where feme few peafants dwell, C 2 He [ 36 I He lives in virtue rich, in fortune poor, And treads the path his matter trod before. O great, good man !" to chear without requeft The drooping heart, and footh the troubled breaft ; With cords of love the wayward iheep to hold, And draw the loft, and wandring to the fold ; To fpend fo little, yet have fome to fpare ; To feed the hungry, and to clothe the bare ; To vifit beds of ficknefs in the night, When rains defcend, and rolling thunders fright, There death deprive of all his terrors foul, And fmg foft requiems to the parting foul! Blum, blufh for fhame ! Your heads, ye Paftcrs, hide, Ye pamper'd fons of luxury and pride, Who leave to prowling worves your helplefs care, And truck preferments at the public fair ; In whofe fat corpfe the foul fupinely lies, Snug at her eafe, and wondrous loth to rife ! F. Friend, friend, you're warmwhy this is downright fpleen, You flout the fat, becaufe yourfelf are lean : Yet laugh to fee behind the filver mace Black-brow'd COR NUT us with his ftarveling face, A wretch fo worn with penury and pride, His very bones ftand flaring thro' his hide. Why chufe the church, if petulant and vain You proudly ihun the paths that lead to gain, Yet rack'd with envy, when your brethren rife, Revile the prudent arts that you defpife r 7 Better t 37 '] Better fome dirty, vile, mechanic trade, ' Cobler, or fmith a fortune might be made ; .The crofs-legg'd wretch, who flitches up the gown, Is of more worth than half the clerks in town ; And laughs with purfe-proud infolence to fee The needy curate's full-fleev'd dignity. P. Why chufe the church ? A father's prudent voice Determin'd, friend, and dignify'd the choice : To thee, religion, thro' the tranquil road, Himfelf with honour and with virtue trod, He led me on and know, no Have to gain, Undow'r'd I took thee, and undow'r'd retain. What ! Durft the blind philofopher of yore Chufe thy half-fifler Virtue, vile and poor, Chufe her begirt with all the ghaftly train Of ills, contempt, and ridicule, and pain ? And mall not I, O dear celeflial dame, Love thee with all my foul's devoutefl flame ? Shall I not gaze, and doat upon thy charms, And fly to catch the heav'n within thy arms ? O my fair miftrefs, lovelier to be feen Than the chafle lily, opening on the green ; Sweet as the bluming rofe in SHARON'S vale, And foft as IDUMEA'S balmy gale ! Of thee enamour'd martyr'd heroes flood Firm to their faith, and conflant ev'n to blood ; No views of fame, no fears of fad difgrace, Had pow'r to tear them from thy lov'd embrace, Wrapt up in thee, tiio' harlots flalkt abroad, And perfecution fhook her iron rod ! C 3 Peace [ 38 ] Peace to their fouls f- But tell me, gentle maid, D tell me, are thy beauties all decay'd ? Hath time's foul canker ev'ry grace devour'd? Thy virgin charms hath ignorance deflow Yd ? That thus thou wander'ft helplefs and forlorn, Qf knaves the hatred, and of fools the fcorn ! F. Still knave, and fool ? For God's fake, Sir, refrain ! This petulance of pride will prove your bane. What ! you're averfe to dain thro' thick and thin ? Try cleaner ways 'tis done, if you begin. Go with foft flattery, ftudious to oblige, Some dull, andfelf-adrniring lord befiege. And like thedovt, to MECCA'S prophet dear, Pick a good living from your patron's ear : GULLION fucceeded thus,, and ib may you- But railing, railing ! Friend, it ne'er can do. P. Good heav'n forbid that I a plain, blunt man. Who cannot fawn, and loath the wretch who can, Should brook a trencher-chaplain at the board, The loud horfe-laugh, and raillery of my lord ', Slave to his jokes, his paflion, and his pride, A dull tame fool for laccjuies to deride, Who fnort around to hear the wretch abufe My perfon, morals, family, and mule ! Shall I fuch bafe Egyptian bondage bear, And eat my heart thro' forrow, grief, and care !' For twice fev'n tedious years wait, watch, ride, run, Nor dare to live, or fpeak, or think my own ? Obferve I 39 1 Obferve with awe that fickle vane his mind, That mifts, and changes with the changeful wind ? Read ev'ry look, each twinkling of his eye, And thence divine the doubtful augury ? No, PHARAOH no ! Here in this calm retreat, Where ev'ry mufe, and virtue fix their feat, Here let me ihun each lordling proud and vain, And fcorn the world ere fcorn'd by it again ! Ye happier few, that in this ftately dome Where ftill the foul of NEWTON deigns to roana, Infpires each youthful candidate for fame, His noonday vifion, and his midnight dream ; Ye happier few, by -regal bounty fed, Here eat in privacy and peace your bread ; Nor tempt the world, that monfter-bearing deep, Where hufht in grim repofe the tempefts fleep, Where rocks, and fands, dread minifters of fate, To whelm the pilot's hopes in ambufh wait. On a huge hill, that braves the neighbouring fky, Waflit by the fable gulph of infamy, Preferment's temple ftands ; the bafe how wide, How fteep the top, how cragged ev'ry fide ! Compact of ice the dazzling mountain glows, Like rocks of cryftal, or Lapponian fnows, While all around the ftorm-clad whirlwind rides, Dread thunder breaks, and livid lightning glides, Hither by hope enliven'd crouds repair, Thick as the noontide fwarms that float in air ; Dean joftles dean, each fuffragan his brother, And half the jealous mob keeps down the other. 4 Ah* oj ? ce, > [ 40 3 Ah little knows the wretch, that h?.th not try'd, What hell it is this fhouldring throng to bide, Where garilh art, and falfehpod win the day, And fimple lingle truth is fpurn'd away : Where round, and round, with painful fteps and flow, Whoe'er would fcale the fudden height muft go ; Catch ev'ry twig, each brake and op'ning trace, Pull down his friend, nay father, from his place, And raife himielf by others foul difgrace. Yet feme there are, gay Folly's fluttering train, ' That free from care and toil the fummit gain, Sublimely foar on fortune's partial wind, And leave the fons of Science far behind. Thus ilraws and feathers eafily can fly, And the light fcale is fure to mount on high ; Thin air-blown bubbles with each breath are born, And wind will raife the chaff" that leaves the corn. Others again with crouds contentious ftrive, And thro' mere dint of oppofition thrive; Stiff" in opinion, aftive, reftlefs wights, They rife againft the wind like paper kites : 'Twas thus proud RAMUS to the mitre flew, Oppofing, and oppos'd F. And thus muft you If oppofition, faction, broils prevail, Take courage, friend, for fure you ne'er can fail. Mifguided youth, is fatyre thus your turn ! Hafte while the baleful flames of party burn : Jn hift'ry read ; go, join the grand difpute, And give one hireling more to PJTT, or BUTE. O! [ 41 ] O ! would you paint his lordfhip's jerkin o'er With imps, and fiends (like bafe inquifitor) Then boldly hang him out to public view, The fcorn and laughter of the gaping crew, How G * *A'S foris would P. What? F. Exult for joy, And lift your grateful praifes to the fky. P. Her fons exult ? your men of parts and fkil! Change, like their drefs, their principles at will ; Where Mammon calls, with hafte obfequious run, And bow like Pernans to the riling fun. Too long, alas ! o'er Britain's bleeding land Hath fell corruption wav'd her iron hand, Too 1 ng pofleft a monarch's patient ear, While all the fons of freedom fhrunk with fear. Is there then one, whofe breaft religion warms, And virtue decks with all her brighteft charms ; Whofe fiery glance the loathfome den pervades, Where vice, and foul corruption fculk in fhades ; True to his king, and to the public julr, No dupe to paffion, and no flave to lufc ; Whom all the good revere, the vile abufe, A friend to learning, and the gentle mufe ? Scotchman, or Teague be this his patriot view, I'll praife him, love him, friend, and fo {hall you. Curft be the lines (tho' ev'ry THESPIAN maid Come uninvoked, and lend her timely aid, View r 42 ] View them,- like THETIS, with a mother's eye, And dip them o'er in dews of CASTALY) Curft be the lines, that pow'rful vice adorn, Or treat fair virtue, and her friends with fcorn : Let 'em cloath candles, wrap up cheefe, line trunks j Or flutt'ring on a rail, 'midft- rogues and punks, Ne'er meet the mild judicious critic's praife, But die, like thole that FANNY fings or fays : FANNY, dull wight, to whom the ghoft appears Of murder'd HORACE, pale and wan with tears ; FANNY, dull wight, a Mammon- fencing flave, Half politician, atheift, parfon, knave, That drunk each night, and liquor'd ev'ry chink, Dyes his red face in port, and his black foul in ink. No fly fanatic, no enthufiaft wild, No'party tool, beguiling and beguil'd, No flave to pride, no canting pimp to pow'r, Nor rigid churchman, nor diffenter four, No fawning flatterer to the bafe and vain, No timift vile, or worfliippcr of gain ; When gay not diflblute, grave not fevere, Tho' learn'd no pedant, civil tho' fincere ; Nor mean nor haughty, be one preacher's praife That if he rife, he rife by manly ways : Yes, he abhors each fordid felftfh view, And dreads the paths your men of art purfue ; Who truft fome wand'ring meteor's dubious ray, And fty like owls from truth's meridian day. F. Alas, alas ! I plainly, friend, forefee In points like thefe we never mail agree. Too [ *3 3 Too fure debarr'd from all the joys of life, From heav'n's belt gifts, a living, and a wife, Chain'd to a college you muft wafte your days, (Wrapt up in monkifh indolence, and eafe,) In one dull round of fleeping, eating, drinking, A foe to care, but more a foe to thinking. There when ten luftrums are fupinely fpcnt In ENVIOUS SLOTH, AND MOPISH DISCONTENT; When not one friend, one comfort more remains ; But flowly creeps the cold blood thro' your veins, And palfy'd hands, and tott'ring knees betray An helplefs ftate of nature in decay ; While froward youth derides your fqualid age, And longs to move you trembling off the ftage ; Then, then you'll blame your conduft but too late, And curfe your enemies, and friends, and fate. P. Better be worn with age, with ills oppreft, Diftreft in fame, in fortune too diftreft; Better unknown, and unlamented die, With no kind friend to clafe the parting ey, (So all is calm, and undifuirb'd within) Than feel, and fear the biting pangs of iin. For O ! what odds, the curtain once withdrawn, Betwixt a faint in rags, and rev'rend knave in lawn ? TO t 44 ] To PLEASURE. AN ODE. BY THE SAME. I. I. HENCE from my fight, unfeeling fage, Hence, to thy lonely hermitage ! - There far remov'd from joy, and pain, Supinely flumber life away ; Act o'er dull yefterday again, And be thy morrow like to-day. Reft to thy bones ! - While to the gale Happier I fpread my feflive wing, And like the wand'ring bee exhale Frefh odours from life's honey'd fpring ; From bloom to bloom in pleafing rapture ftray, Where mirth invites, and pleafure points the way. I. 2. Hail ! heav'n-born virgin fair, and free, Of language mild, of afpeft gay, v Whofe voice the fullen family Of care and difcontent obey ! By [ 45 I By thee infpir'd the fimpleft fcenes, The ruflet cots, the lowly glens, Mountains, on whofe craggy brow Nature's lawlefs tenants feed, Buihy dells, and ftreams, that flow Thro' the vi'let-purpled mead, Delight ; thy breath exalts the rich perfumes, That brooding o'er embalm the bean-flow'r field, Beyond Sabean fweets, and all the gums The fpicy deferts of Arabia yield. When the Attic bird complains From the dill, attentive grove, Or the linnet breathes his drains, Taught by nature, and by love ; Do thou approve the dulcet airs, And Harmony's foft, filken chain, In willing bondage leads our cares, And binds the giant-fenfe of pain : Untun'd by thee, how coarfe the long-drawn note, Spun from the lab'ring eunuch's tortur'd throat ! Harfh are the founds, tho' FARINELLI fings, HaHh are the founds, tho' HANDEL wakes the ftrings. Untouch'd by thee, fee fenfelefs FLORIO fits, And flares, and gapes, and nods, and yawns by fits. II. I. O Pleafure, come ! and far, far hence Expel that nun, Indifference ! Where'er t 46 i Where'er Hie waves her Ebon wand, Drencht in the dull Lethsean deep, Behold the marble paffions Hand Abforb'd in everlafting flecp ! Then from the wafte, and barren mind The mufe's fairy-phantoms fly, They fly, nor leave a wreck behind Of heav'n-defcending poefy : Love's thrilling tumults then are felt no more, Quencht is the gen'rous heat, the rapt'rous throbs are o'er ' II. 2. 'Twas thou, O nymph ! that led'ft along The fairDione's wanton choir, While to thy blitheil, fofteft fong, Ten thoufand Cupids ilrung the lyre : Aloft in air the cherubs play'd What time, in Cypria's myrtle-made^ Young Adonis flumb'ring lay On a bed of blulhing flow'rs, all'd to life by early May, And the rofy-bofom'd hours : The queen of love beheld her darling boy; In am'rous mood fhe neftled to his fide, And thus, to melt his frozen breaft to joy/ Her wanton art ihe gayly-fmiling try'd. II. 3. From the muflc-rofe, wet with dew, And the lily's opening bell, From freih eglantine fhe drew Sweets of aromatic fmell : Part C 47 ] Part of that honey next fhe took, Which Cupid too advent'rous itole, When itung his throbbing hand he mock. And feit the anguifh to his foul : His mother taught to hear the elf complain * Yet ftill me pity'd, and reliev'd his pain; She dreft the wound with balm of fov'reign And bath'd him in the well of dear delight : Ah, who would fear to be fo bath'd in blifs, More agonizing fmartj and deeper wounds than this? in. i. Her magic zone Ihe next unbound, And wav'd it in the air around : Then cull'd from evir-frolk fmiles, That live in Beauty's dimpled cheek, Such fvveetnefs as the heart beguile*, And turns the mighty ihxmg to weak : To thefe ambrofial dew fhe join'd, And o'er the flame of warm deiire^ Fann'd by fcft fighs, love's gentleit wind, Diffolv'd, and made the charm entire ; O'er her moift lips, that blufh'd with heav'nly red. The graces' friendly hand the bieft ingredients fpread. IIL 2. Adonis wak'd he faw the fair, And felt unufual tumults rife ; His bcfom heav'd with am'rous care, And humid languor veil'd his eyes ! Driv'n by fome ftrong impulfive pow'r He fought the molt fequelier'd bcjw'r, Where Where diffus'd on Venus' bread, Firft he felt extatic blifs, Firft her balmy lips he preft, And devour'd the new made KISS : But, O my mufe, thy tattling tongue reftrain, Her facred rites what mortal dares to tell ? She crowns the filent, leads the blabbing fwain To doubts, defires, and fears, the fev'rifh lover's hell, III. 3, Change then, fweeteft nymph of nine, Change the fong, and fraught with pleafures, String anew thy fdver twine To the foftcft, Lydian meafures ! My Cynthia calls, whofe natal hour Th' affiftant graces faw, and fmil'd ; Then deign'd his Cyprian charms to pour With lavilh bounty o'er the child : Sithence where'er the firen moves along, In pleating wonder chain'd is ev'ry tongue, Love's foft fuffufion dims the aching eyes, Love's fubtleft flame thro' ev'ry art'ry flies : Our trembling limbs th' unequal pulfe betray, We gaze in tranfport loft then faint, and die away. [ 49 3 EDWIN AND ANGELINA. A BALLAD. BY DR, GOLDSMITH. / "T~ V URN, gentle hermit of the dale, JL ' And guide my lonely way * To where yon taper cheers the vale * , With hofpitable ray. ' For here, forlorn and loil I tread, ' With fainting fteps and "flow ; Where wilds immeasurably fpread, ' Seem lengthening as I go.' ' Forbear, my fon,' the hermit cries, ' To tempt the dangerous gloom ; .. ' For yonder faithlefs phantom flie.5 * To lure thee to thy doom. ' Here to the houfelefs child- of want ' My door is open ftill ; * And tho' my portion is but fcant, 4 I give it with good will. D Then C 5 3 * Then turn to-night, and freely fhar * What'er my cell beftows ; ' My rufhy couch, and frugal fare, * My bleffing and repofe. * No flocks that range the valley free ' To (laughter I condemn : * Taught by that power that pities me, ' I learn to pity them. * But from the mountain's grafly fide ' A guiltlefs feaft I bring ; * A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd, ' And water from the fpring. * Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego 5 ' All earth-born cares are wrong : < Man wants but little here below, ' Nor wants that little long.' Soft as the dew from heav'n defcends His gentle accents fell : The modeft ftranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wildernefs obfcure The lonely manfion lay, A refuge to the neighbouring poor And Grangers led aftray. t 51 3 No ftores beneath its humble thatch Requir'd a matter's care ! The wicket opening with a latch, Receiv'd the harmlefs pair. And now when bufy crowds retire To take their evening reft, The hermit trimm'd his little fire, And eheer'd his penfive guefl ; And fpread his vegetable ftore, And gayly preft, and fmil'd, And fkill'd in legendary lore, The lingering hours beguilM. Around in fympathetic mirth Its tricks the kitten tries, The cricket chirrups in the hearth, The crackling faggot flies. But nothing could a charm impart To footh the ftranger's woe ; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rifmg cares the hermit fpy'd, With anfwering care oppreft : And whence, unhappy youth,' he cry'd, ' The forrows of thy breaft ? From t 5* ] * From better habitations fpurn'd, ' Reluftant doft thou rove ; $F ' Or grieve for friendfhip unreturn'd, * Or unregarded love ? * Alas ! the joys that fortune brings * Are trifling and decay ; * And thofe who prize the paltry things, More trifling ftill than they. * And what is friendfhip but a name, ' A charm that lulls to fleep ; * A made that follows wealth or fame, ' But leaves the wretch to weep ? And love is {till an emptier found, / The modern fair one's jeft, * On earth unfeen, or only found ' To warm the turtle's neft. i f For fhame, fond youth, thy forrows hufli, ' And fpurn the fex,' he faid : But, while he fpoke, a rifing blufh His love-lorn guefc betray'd. Surpriz'd he fees new beauties rife Swift mantling to the view, Like colours o'er the morning fkies, As bright, as tranfient too. The [ 53 ]" The bafhful look, the riftng breaft, Alternate fpread alarms, The lovely ftranger ftands confeft A maid in all her charms. i * And, ah ! forgive a ftranger rude, ' A wretch forlorn,' me cry'd, Whofe feet unhallowed thus intrude Where heaven and you refide. ' But let a maid thy pity {hare, ' Whom love has taught to ftray ; ' Who feeks for reft, but finds defpair * Companion of her way, My father liv'd befide the Tyne, ' A wealthy lord was he ; And all his wealth was mark'd as mine ; ' He had but only me. * To win me from his tender arms ' Unnumber'd fuitors came ; * Who prais'd me for imputed charms, And felt or feign'd a flame. * Each hour a mercenary crowd ' With richeft proffers ftrove : ' Among the reft young Edwin bow'd, * But never talk'd of love. D 3 In I 54 ] * In humble fimpleft habit clad, ' No wealth nor power had he ; * Wifdom and worth were all he had, ' But thefe were all to me. ' The bloflbm opening to the day, ' The dews of heaven refin'd, 1 Could nought of purity difplay ' To emulate his mind, * The dew, the bloflbm on the tree, * With charms inconftant mine ; * Their charms were his, but woe (o me, ' Their conftancy was mine. ' For ftill I try'd each fickle art, * Importunate and vain j * And while his paflion touch'd my heart} I triumph'd in his pain. * Till quite deje&ed with my fcorn, * He left me to my pride j f And fought a folitude forlorn, * In fecret where he died. * But mine the forrow, mine the fault, 4 And well my life mall pay, I'll feek the folitude he fought, ? And ftretch me where he lay. C 55 ] * And there forlorn defpairing hid, * I'll lay me down and die : * 'Twas fo fpr me that Edwin did, * And fo for him will I.* e Forbid it, heaven !' the hermit cry'd, And clafp'd her to his breaft : The wondering fair one turn'd to xrhide^ 'Twas Edwin's felf that preft. ' Turn, Angelina, ever dear, ' My charmer turn to fee] ' Thy own, thy long loft Edwin here, ' Reftor'd to love and thee. * Thus let me hold thee to my heart, * And ev'ry care refign - f . ' And mail we never, never part, ' My life, my all that's mine. ' No, never, from this hour to part, ' We'll live and love fo true ; c The figh that. rends thy conftant heart, * Shall break thy Edwin's too.' THE C 56 ] THE GIFT: To I ft IS. BY THE SAME. SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake, Dear mercenary beauty, What annual offering fhall I make, Expreffive of my duty ? My heart, a viftim to thine eyes, Should I at once deliver, Say, would the angry fair one prize The gift, who flights the giver ? A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, My rivals give and let 'em : If gems, or gold, impart a joy, I'll give them, when I get 'em. I'll give but not the full-blown rofe, Or rofe-bud more in faihion ; Such fhort-liv'd offerings but difclofe A tranfitory paffion : I'll give thee fomething yet unpaid, Not lefs fmcerc than civil : I'll give thee Ah ! too charming maid, - I'll give thee - to the- devil. THE [ 57 THE C I T's COUNTRY-BOX, 1757. BY ROBERT LLOYD, A. M. Vos fapere & folos aio lene vi'vere, quorum y Confpicitur nitidis fundata pecunia And give me back my troth. IX. Why [ 73 1 IX. Why did "you promife love to me, And not that promife keep ? Why did you fwear my eyes were bright, Yet leave thofe eyes to weep ? X. How could you fay my face was fair, And yet that face forfake ? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break ? XI. Why did you fay, my lip was fweet, And made the fcarlet pale ? And why did I, young witlefs maid, Believe the flattering tale 1 XH. That face, alas ! no more is fair ; Thofe lips no longer red : Dark are my eyes, now clos'd in death, And every charm is fled. XHL The hungry worm my fifter is ; This winding meet I wear : And cold and weary lafts our night, Till that laft morn appear. XIV. But hark ! the cock has warn'd me hence; A long and late adieu ! Come, fee, falfe man, how low me lies, Who dy'd for love of you. XV. The [ 74 ] XV. . The lark fung loud ; the morning fmil'd, ; 7 With beams of rofy red : Pale WILLIAM jquak'd in every limb, 77 And raving left his bed. XVI. He hy'd him to the fatal place Where MARGARET'S body lay : And ftretch'd him on the grafs-green turf, That wrapp'd her breathlefs clay. XVII. And thrice he call'd on MARGARET'S name, And thrice he wept full fore : Then laid his cheek to her cold grave, And word fpoke never more \ N. E. In a comedy of FLETCHER, called The Knight of tkf burning Peflle, old MERRY THOUGHT enters repeating the following verfcs : When it was grown to dark midnight* And all were faft afieep, In came MARGARET'S grimly ghoft. And flood at WILLIAM'S feet. This was, probably, the beginning of fome ballad, commonly- known at the time when that author wrote ; and is all of it, I believe, that is any where to be met with. Thefe lines, naked of ornament and fimple as they are, ftruck my fancy : and, bringing frefti into my mind an unhappy adventure, much talked of formerly, gave birth to the foregoing poem j which was written many years ago, ZEPHIR: t 75 ZEPHIR: OR, THE STRATAGEM. BY THE SAME. Egregiam