* 4 & ■ ;, »■ *?»u : "• >*; •; Jofm isavt OF THE UNIVER5 ITY OF ILLINOIS &?L\ M TCofec- £AB.ly imprint The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN L161 — 0-1096 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/enchantedplantsfOOmont ENCHANTED PLANTS. / *Vi. ar &tensis yy<* THE ENCHANTED PLANTS, FABLES IN VERSE. INSCRIBED TO MISS MONTOLIEU, AND MISS JULIA MONTOLIEU. Elosh as thou may’st, my little book, for shame, Nor hope with homely verse to purchase fame, For such thy maker chose, and so designed, Thy simple style to suit thy lowly kind. Drydrn. LONDON. PRINTED BY THOMAS BENS LEY, BOLT COURT, FLEET STREET. M DCCC Qx - <• S2 0 s\ A a ~ * W7W ADVERTISEMENT. r J he Author conceiving that any allusion to the botanic distinctions of plants would be inconsistent with the simplicity intended to be preserved in the following Fables, has waved the attempt, and has hazarded in personifying them, to give to each in- dividual the sex she thought best adapted to the moral the fable is meant to convey. The few Notes she wrote for her children, and which may be of use to young readers, will be found at the end of the book. t Introduction. Grumbling . . . Fable I, . . Ambition II. .. 8 Scandal m. ... 12 Prejudice IV. . . Sensibility V. . . 18 Folly VI. . . 23 Envy VII. .. 27 Love VIII. . . 31 Temptation IX. . . 35 Opinion X. . . 39 Pride XI. . . 44 Vulgarity XII. . . Despair XIII. . . Cruelty XIV. . . , 55 Vanity XV. . . 59 Contention XVI. . . 62 Imprudence XVII. . . 66 Ingratitude . . . . XVIII. . . 69 Jealousy XIX. . . 73 Adversity XX. . . 78 Felicity .... XXI. . . 82 Wonder XXII. . . 1 INTRODUCTION. Oft, to beguile the sultry hours. In thought I’ve animated flowers. Enlivening thus my walk, And though no botanist professed. Their reasoning powers have shrewdly guessed* And longed to hear them talk. It chanced one lovely day in June, Just at the madding time of moon, I spoke this wish aloud; When from a Pansy, with surprise, I saw a gradual mist arise. And form a silvery cloud. Forth from the glittering veil, behold, In insect trappings, green and gold, A fairy figure sprung. Her wand a cowslip’s stamen seemed. And on her head like diamonds beamed A casque with dew-drops hung. B 2 Her silken pinions as she flew, Seemed by their size and purple hue. Spoils of the flower she left; She soared aloft, and touched mine ear. While I half-pleased, half-dead with fear. Remained of speech bereft. Then first a small melodious tone. Before to mortal wight unknown. Struck my enraptured sense, ‘ Flora,’ it murmured, * grants thy prayer. Long have her treasures been thy care. Receive thy recompense.’ This said, she vanished from my sight, And since, with ever new delight, I tend my fragrant hoards; No solitude exists for me, Since 'every flower, and shrub, and tree. Society affords. 3 GRUMBLING. FABLE I. One day when winter ruled the skies, I, shivering by the flame. Heard a strange hurly-burly rise. And wondered whence it came. Spite of the season’s biting gales I traced th’ uncommon sound, And found four plants in snowy veils Muttering on gifted ground. A Crocus bright peeped forth alone, The rest lay snug concealed. Till each with discontented tone. Her name, and woes revealed. To Flora were their vows addressed In supplicating mood j The Crocus first her plaints expressed, And thus her grievance stood. 4 ‘ Oh Flora,, cruel mother ! say, Why suckle me with snow ? Ah, why not let thy Crocus stay Till rival beauties blow ? In Spring, when every shrub and flower Rejoices in the sun, Like babe entombed at early hour. My shivering race is run. Let me but once among the gay My place with rapture find, Once hail the balmy breath of May, Thence forward I’m resigned.’ She ceased ; another plaintive moan Arose from neighbouring root j The modest Violet, wayward grown. Presumed to urge her suit. * Oh hear a timid suppliant’s prayer, Nymph of the blushing hours. Incline, and rescue from despair, The most forlorn of flowers ! 5 Fair am I formed,, and sweet ’tis true, Thy favourite blue-eyed maid, Each spring am fed with pearly dew. But cloistered in the shade. Were I exalted on my stem, By solar beams inspired. What Pink, what Bose, what fragrant gem. Like me would be admired?’ 4 How,’ cried with royal pride, the Bose, (Betrayed by her petition. Or else what mortal could suppose She liked not her condition?) f Shall such mean reptiles dare complain, Sweet Buler of the year ! While I, thy vice -queen, crowned in vain. Here shed the silent tear ? Though bright my tints, perfumed my breath, Though cherished by the fair. Though when I fade, even after death. My virtues honoured are : 6 Yet in my season, numerous Powers Approach too near the throne. The embroidered garden rich with flowers Scarce will my empire own. If blushing to my court I came When Autumn rules the day. Then should I sovereign homage claim. And hold despotic sway.’ * Despotic sway indeed !’ replied The image of the sun, * In June rejoice to curb thy pride. My reign is not begun. Though, native of a distant clime. No British bloom I boast. Yet know, proud plant! my form sublime Eclipses all thine host. Goddess! in radiant glories dressed Let me henceforth appear. By Summer’s brightest beam caressed. Nor wait the closing year.’ ; 7 g Ungrateful tribe !’— -with angry pause. The indignant Goddess cries, * Not in the season’s wholesome laws Your cause of grievance lies. Spoiled by prosperity ye pine Like many a pampered fair. But woe to all, should I incline. And grant to each her prayer. So nicely are your hours arranged. To every season linked, That Nature’s laws one moment changed, Your race would be extinct.’ She spoke; then bade the blast arise Her message to convey ; Boreas swift rushing through the skies Swept all their sighs away. 8 AMBITION. FABLE II. Deep in the woodland springs a cool. Pellucid, sparkling, spacious pool. Whose bosom from o’ershadowing trees Is strewed with sweets by every breeze. No mantle green obscures the wave Where Gods might drink, and Naiads lave. No reptiles, from stagnation bred. Dare to profane its crystal bed. By Flora’s pencil painted round, On the sedge-woven bank is found Each thirsty flower that drinks the tide, On lake, or stream, or river’s side j There Lythrum points her purple spears. Iris her golden standard rears , A milk white Lily like the Queen, Sits in the midst, and crowns the scene. 9 But where does pure perfection dwell ? Search the wild wood, the flowery dell 5 Did Nature in her daintiest mood E’er form one spot ,where all is good ? Too oft one vice defiles the breast Where sterling virtues shine confessed j Amid this unoffending race The giant Hemlock held a place. With glossy leaves, and umbels bright. Luring the palate through the sight. Oft had the fatal monster smiled To rob a mother of her child. Long had Queen Lily, and her train. Strove to root out the weed in vain 5 In this point lawyers all agree — Possession is a stubborn plea. Conscious of strength, and craving power. He aimed to be the sovereign flower. And had not Nature curbed his spleen. Had hurled destruction at his Queen. 10 Once when the sky was overcast, His dark leaves ruffled by the blast, Mid storms of thunder, rain, and hail. The rebel thus presumed to rail. 1 Shall I with will and wit to rule, Stand here a slave to guard this pool ? I, to whom fiends their poison grant, Submit to yonder pale-faced plant? Oh! could my juice infect the gale. Or as in human veins prevail. Soon would I change my state accurst. And reign alone, or reign the first.’ The Lily from her silver tide. Heard, and with dignity replied : f Woe to all safety, peace, and right, When wickedness and power unite 5 Laws, virtue, policy, are vain. When low-born plants pretend to reign \ Such as least willingly obey. Most tyrannize possessed of sway. II Go, venomed weed, and vent thy spite Where fogs create eternal night ; In bog, or fen, dominion gain. And over toads, and lizards reign. The baleful plant with fury stung, Had now high treason on his tongue; The tempest rendered utterance vain, And broke his blood-stained stalk in twain. 12 SCANDAL; Or the Painted-lady Sweet Pea. FABLE III. Gay Anemone, daughter of Art, (Though her ancestors sprung from the wood,) To Ranunculus, friend of her heart, Chattered scandal as fast as she could. One evening the subject she chose Was peculiarly painful to me. For my favourite, next to the Rose, Is the pink-and- white sweet-scented Pea. ‘ Look there ! ’ said the fanciful flower, (By whimsical botanists dressed) c How yon vain youthful plant of an hour Smiles and flaunts like a beauty professed. Though with us in the garden displayed, Unimproved her corollas remain. Still blushing, unformed, unarrayed. Like her cousins who bask on the plain.’ 13 * How blushing ?’ her friend sneering, cries, r The old Daffodil whispered last night. And you know on those subjects she’s wise. That this innocent paints red and white. While her exquisite honeyed perfume. For which the bees tease her to death, They have found too, and so I presume, Is fictitious — to cover her breath. Then to see how she flirts with them all. How she aims in a nosegay to shine. And because she is painted and tall. Conceits herself blooming and fine.’ A Sweet-William concealed in the shade. Who their kind observations had heard, Much loving the bright-bosomed maid. Thought it high time to put in a word. ‘ Fine ladies, your eloquence spare. Oh spare it in pity to me! Or my heart is quite lost to the fair, Supremely fair, Sweet-scented Pea. 14 For envy alone could suggest The rank malice that fell from your tongue* And your censures completely expressed That she’s innocent* lovely* and young. Pink and silver* like Midsummer skies* Is it thence you her blushes defame* That amazed at her own brilliant dyes, Nature once stooped to Art for a name ? By thus over-shooting the mark* Poor ill-nature defeats her own end * As a glow-worm’s more bright in the dark, You’re but foils to my beautiful friend ; Doomed malicious old virgins to fade* Whom multiplied petals deform* While she her soft banner displayed* Soon will shelter her fruit from the storm.’ The ladies felt something like shame* And indignant, were ready to cry* They ev’n vowed no more beauties to blame — That is— when Sweet-William is by. 35 PREJUDICE. FABLE IV. A youthful Myrtle, to her climate true. Mid Devon’s balmy vales luxuriant grew; And on a southern wall, by Colin trained, Enriched with flowers, superiour height obtained. Near, nursed by art, in crystal prison pent, A thousand alien plants their winter spent, Yearly released, when June resumed her reign. To mingle sweets with Summer’s genial train. Among these strangers of maturer bloom. Long had an Orange-tree dispensed perfume. And long our Myrtle, though herself so fair, Had viewed her radiant boughs with secret care. When one late season, flirting her green fan. To shew her wit, (read spleen) she thus began. e Good morrow. Ma’am ! I stare to see you here, I thought you meant t’ indulge at home this year ; Too delicate, since now you’re somewhat old. To quit your household gods, and brave the cold. 16 I doubt, indeed, what claim you have to smile Here mid the high-born nymphs of Britain’s isle, While hot-beds kept for you at vast expense. Display man’s vanity, but not his sense.’ Th’ exotic plant, stung with the Myrtle’s pride. Waving her golden honours, thus replied: ‘ Unfriendly mortal, prejudiced, and vain ! Can England’s child a foreigner disdain ? Can you in climes for genu'ne feeling praised. Depress the race your generous nation raised? Ill suits your sex to sharpen sorrow’s dart, 111 your fair blossoms with a cruel heart; Me, wretched exile from my native shore, To these well-wooded cliffs misfortune bore ; Where, sheltered by benevolence, I grew. Nor can a heart so grateful injure you.’ The forward shrub, awed by the matron’s frown. Was quickly, as all boasters are, cast down. And much abashed, in soothing strain expressed, ‘ She meant not to offend — ’twas but a jest:’ f Oh vain excuse!’ the wounded tree replied, € Shall proud Prosperity the wretch deride ? Ev’n were it strictly true, thy plea is vain. Ne’er deem it sport to give another pain ; 17 And chiefly one, by fate severe oppressed. When insults sink like daggers to the breast $ Oft we call insults jests, by names deceived. Deemed jests no longer when with pain received/ The Myrtle blushed, and as she older grew. Grew wiser, and allowed the maxim true. And modest now, exhales her rich perfumes. Worthy the gentle clime where still she blooms. C 18 SENSIBILITY, FABLE V, Feeling! by words so ill defined. So lovely in an honest mind, How art thou grown in Fashion’s schools The mask of vice, the cant of fools ! How oft Impatience, temper’s storm. For sanction grasps thy glowing form ! How Affectation, Beauty’s shame. And Weakness prostitute thy name! How oft by songs and novels taught. They who ne’er knew one generous thought. Their sensibilities reveal, Sacred to such as truly feel. She who the orphan’s tear neglects, Flavia, the tragic Muse affects. In sorrow with the heroine vies — Does Flavia feel, because she cries ? 19 And love-lorn nymphs whom vows deceive* Unmoved their roof paternal leave. Passion for sentiment mistake. And doom a parent’s heart to break. My fancy wandering uncontrolled. Once to the river’s side I strolled. When to my mind these thoughts occurred, Wakened by plaintive sounds I heard. The breeze was gentle as my theme. And Cynthia mild as poet’s dream. And hushed was every leafy spray. Save the sad subject of my lay. A Willow bending o’er the flood, Her leaves just starting from the bud, Like bird of night I heard complain In moping melancholy strain. * Ah Nature ! why when all is gay, Or resting from the toils of day. Why is my waking soul the shrine Of sense so exquisitely fine ? 20 If but a sun-beam strikes too warm. How faints my undulating form! The most dispirited of trees. If hollow sounds the evening breeze. When cloudy yon blue vault appears. Instant I droop dissolved in tears 5 If but a poplar frowns in scorn, I sorrow that I e’er was born/ While thus she mourned, she sobbed aloud, And to the stream her branches bowed 5 I gazed 5 and still she wept and sighed. Yet seemed to feel a secret pride. An Alder by her plaints awoke. Thus in reproachful accents spoke, ‘ Why, Willow, why these vigils keep, And break the sacred hour of sleep ? Why still deem Nature’s laws perverse. Who make her choicest gifts a curse ? Feeling, whose shrine thy tears profane. Is not th’ eternal nurse of pain. 21 When rain and tempest rule the hours, How sympathize the plants and flowers? The sun once more revives the plain. They laugh with hope and joy again. Mark Pleasure’s fascinating wiles. And Beauty’s heart- illumined smiles; The eye’s quick glancing rapture tells Unquestioned where the Angel dwells. Where points the moon-beam, dost thou see Near yon grey stone a lofty tree. The Cypress, mourner of the grove, Placed by the hand of widowed love ? His grief with dignity he bears, A dark and settled sorrow wears, Affects no attitudes of woe, And scorns one trivial tear should flow. The genuine anguish of the heart. Nor tears, nor sobs, nor groans impart. But like this deep and silent wave. Steals without murmur to the grave. 22 To him who pines with grief sincere. Like dreams of heavenly bliss appear The fancied evils you deplore.’. . . . She paused. — The Willow wept the more. 23 POLL Y. FABLE VI. Now, to while away the hours. Shall I tell you what befel A Rose, the very pearl of flowers. Who loved her charms. . Alas! too well. On a verdant bank she flourished. Hanging o’er a crystal stream. There a numerous offspring nourished. Time departing like a dream. Conscious of transcendent beauty. Her children seemed her second praise, She prized them not from love, but duty $ Her joy was in the flood to gaze. But moments tell, and all must perish. And beauty flies on fleeting wing. Virtue’s the only charm to cherish, She blossoms in eternal spring. 24 One day looking in her mirror, The sun was high, the wave was clear. She saw with starts, and throbs of terror, A wrinkle on her leaves appear. She daily watched, and saw her flower Assume a sort of yellow cast, She gazed around, and saw each hour Her buds more brilliant than the last. Belinda would her glass have broken. But as hers braved her utmost rage. She spoke 3 but words in passion spoken Nor sentimental are, nor sage. * Oh Nature ! harsh to pretty creatures. Thy choicest favours seem our bane. The more divine our form and features. The more intense our future pain. Ah ! what avails that, once enchanting. The poet has my beauties sung, That ev’n on Julia’s charms descanting, My name hung trembling on his tongue? 25 To point his flatteries still the lover Derived his softest blush from me ; My hues are fled, my triumphs over. Now let him write my elegy. Would, like the Dandelion yonder, A vulgar weed in meadows known, I ne’er had bloomed the garden’s wonder. Or, early nipped, had never blown.’ The tender buds around her sitting. Who grieved to see their mother grieve, With gentle voice their age befitting, Thus strove her anguish to relieve. * Oh dear Mamma ! Oh cease your sorrow ! With patience now your loss sustain. Your charms though fading, ours tomorrow Will make you value life again. See the coeval friends you cherish. They too begin to lose their bloom. With you they blew, with you they perish. Would you alone survive the doom? Still are your sweets a store of pleasure' I thought the moral suited me. And seizing quick the withering treasure. Embalmed her in a pot-pourri. 27 ENVY. FABLE VII. O’er plains with Summer’s radiance spread, Where, mixed with Heath in bloom, The Furze displays her golden hues, And scatters wild perfume, A Shepherd passed at evening hour With weary step and slow, Reflecting on the various charms Earth’s rudest scenes bestow. Gilt by the sun’s departing beam The prospect glowed more bright j More fragrant blew the scented breeze. His little home in sight, A turf-built cottage on the heath Where cheerful labour dwelt. And from repose experienced bliss That grandeur never felt. 28 No blackbirds cheered the unwooded spot. But sweet the sheep -bell’s sound; Unscreened from winds, but Ivy clung. And Woodbine flaunted round. Yet Pride even here an harbour found, For up the casements twined, Th’ ambitious shrub her station scorned. And pale with envy pined. Her blossoms waving in the breeze. Thus sad her accents flow. As from the chimney’s height she viewed The sea of gold below. ‘ While yonder weed o’erspreads the plain And breathes her sweets around. Ah ! why dependant from my birth Am I in fetters bound ? Fixed to a humble peasant’s hut. By barbarous man compelled. Confined to tame, domestic praise. Scarce scented, scarce beheld.* € Ungrateful plant!’ in accents meek The faithful Ivy cried, * And dost thou that dear tie lament. Thy safety, and thy pride ? True, yonder gay luxuriant throng Adorned in rich attire. Seen from afar wide homage claim. And passengers admire. Thou flexible and tender, formed By Nature to depend, Canst boast, what mortals few possess, The blessing of a friend. Shall adulation’s fickle breath Raise envy in thy breast. Who still protected, yielding sweets, Art cherished, and caressed?’ She ceased 5 and soon the storm arose. The Woodbine hung her head j The rain descends, the tempest raves, She blessed the friendly shed. 30 But on the wild unsheltered heath At morn the traveller past. The golden blossoms wide dispersedy Had yielded to the blast. 31 LOVE. FABLE VIII. Fancy not men who read my page, That only care and spleen engage The blooming tribes I sing , No — they enjoy the world like you. Make love, feed, sleep, and quaff the dew. And frolic in the Spring. Like mortals too of various taste. Some plants are frail, and some are chaste. Some with affection blessed 5 The Hedysarum loves the Sun, Coquets it till his race is run. Then nods, and sinks to rest. While the Mimosa, modest maid. Even at the Zephyr’s breath dismayed. The virgin’s fear pourtrays; And Lupins whom their buds delight. Who shield them from the damps of night, Deserve a mother’s praise. 32 But Scandal says, (what won’t she say?) That every flower and plant is gay. By Nature’s precepts trained 5 But lest my muse censorious prove, I only sing their mortal love, Too pure to be arraigned. At six one balmy Summer morn. To hail June’s perfumes newly bom I through the shrubbery strayed 5 When from the myriads all around Th’ accustomed soft and silvery sound Rose murmuring through the shade. But chiefly I inclined mine ear A curious dialogue to hear Between two amorous flowers; What woman but had done the same ? For each was talking of his flame Just as we talk of ours. 4 Let Tulip hear, and judge our cause, And we be guided by his laws,’ A gallant Larkspur cried : S3 c Done/ cried a Pink, with double crest, c Which of us Silvia loves the best Let Tulip now decide.* LARKSPUR. When Silvia, Goddess of the groves, Enchanted through her garden roves. Soon as my tints she spies. With what delight she stops to gaze, Soft as descending dews her praise. Bright as the sun her eyes. PINK. When Silvia, by the breeze caressed. Herself the Queen of flowers confessed. Appears, eclipsed they pine. For me she oft the Rose resigns. And sighing o’er my form inclines. Her breath more sweet than mine. LARKSPUR. Behold this spot, how large a space She yields to us, her favourite race. Placed here in crowded ranks $ D 34 Armed with our spurs,, I heard her swear, ‘ None but the brave deserve the fair 5* I blushed, and bowed my thanks. PINK. Just now our variegated hue. And rich corollas hung with dew Attracted Silvia’s eye; She placed the loveliest on her breast. And in a basket heaped the rest, — By chance she passed me by. € Enough, enough!’ Sir Tulip cries, < Be wise, brave Larkspur, yield the prize ; A word before we part. Value not what a lady says. Whom her words slight, or whom they praise, Her actions speak her heart.’ 35 ♦ TEMPTATION. FABLE IX. * Why, flower celestial blue, oh tell Why droops thy silken head. Why scarce unfolded hangs thy bell, Why are those dew-drops shed ? Has the east blighting nipped thy buds, Have the slugs pierced thy leaves, Have the hot sun -beams drank the floods. Campanula thus grieves ? Say, on this dew-bespangled lawn Encircling our abode. Which mingling trees and shrubs adorn, With fragrant blossoms strewed. Watered and sheltered from thy birth Beneath the Acacia’s bough, Placed on this chosen spot of earth. What flower so blessed as thou?’ 36 Thus a bright Lupin in the grove Kind as a Summer shower, To soothe, in gentle accents strove, A melancholy flower. c Ah woe is me !’ with mournful voice I heard the plant reply, ‘ Ne’er shall Convolvulus rejoice. Here doomed to pine and die. The sun was scarcely set last night. My bells began to close. When to my half-discerning sight A lovely vision rose. How shall my artless speech describe The glories of its form? It seemed of that aerial tribe Which here at noontide swarm. From yonder brake, on rainbow wing, It soared with solemn flight. Two wings were pale as leaves in Spring, Two like the Poppy bright. 37 “ Sweet flower ! Oh! sweeter far/’ it said, “ Than Musk-rose of the dale; Sweeter than Furze, or thymy bed. On Orange-scented gale ! At early dawn thy sapphire brood I passed, (to roving given) And thought in glassy wave I viewed The smiling face of heaven. So beauteous, why stay here and sigh ? Oh grant thy lover’s prayer ! With us gay wanderers of the sky Come float in fields of air.” Then with a pure ethereal kiss It pressed my leaves and fled; I sigh for liberty and bliss Fixed to my earthy bed.’ * Oh shame !’ said Lupin, ‘ shame to grieve. Beware the tempter’s theme. Thus fell the flower of Eden, Eve, Deluded by a dream. 38 Yon sun-born tribes like man may range. With stronger wills impressed. But shall the wild desire of change Infect thy gentler breast ? They who o’er hill, and dale, and flood, A thousand perils brave, Oft welter in the field of blood, Or perish in the wave. We, happier far, their pleasures share, Happier in death our doom. Fade in the garlands of the fair, Or strew the hero’s tomb. Then oh ! beware the flatterer’s speech. Thy favoured station keep.’ But long ere Lupin ceased to preach, The Flow’ret fell asleep. 39 O P I N I O N. Inscribed to H. J \ Pye , Esq . FABLE X. Last Christmas day, at matin hour, I sallied to my winter bower. Devoted at old Custom’s shrine To keep this holiday divine. The ground was crisp, the lawn was white. The water froze, the sun shone bright, And icicles on every spray. Like diamonds sparkled in the ray. A Laurel, and a Holly long, A thousand evergreens among, Had robbed December of its gloom. And decked my pew, and cheered my room. As I approached, with weapon armed. My hand was stayed, my senses charmed. To hear each emerald-crested stalk Engaged in sentimental talk. 40 Their gentle speech on seasons ran. And first the Muse’s tree began, Soared on Imagination’s wing, Dwelt on the charms of blue-eyed Spring, On western breezes, meadows gay. And all the infant sweets of May, With numbers soft, and specious sense. At poor October’s sole expense ; Her though he praised in magic strain, I plainly saw ’twas ’gainst the grain. Divine he owned for Painting’s eye, Or Siddons like, to make us cry. The Holly, rich with redbreast’s fruit. Thus strove her reasons to refute. * Ere May’s delicious hours you sing, Prove Britain boasts a genial spring, Alas! our poet’s May is June, Soon lost amid the blaze of noon. Or if mild Zephyrs earlier blow. And premature delights bestow. Bleak eastern gales, and blights succeed. And on our buds and blossoms feed. Our nymphs to-day in love with flowers. Pluck Lilacs, dream of rosy bowers. 41 A cobweb vesture scarce sustain, Tomorrow wrapped in furs again. All hail, bright Summer’s glorious beams All hail, deep shades, and cooling streams ! Nor will I Nature’s boast deride. To flatter Autumn’s modest pride : Yet much the sober hour I love. To watch the gradual changing grove, (I doomed to die but ne’er to fade) To pity too the withering shade. Then sportsmen, farmers, all maintain The cheerful joys of Autumn’s reign, Her echoing woods, her open fields, The luscious store her orchard yields. Her bracing air, her moderate sun. Her evenings when the chace is done 5 Then ere compelled by piercing storms, A cheerful fire, on sufferance, warms. Untainted by the pang to know That thousands pine with cold and woe.’ Here ceased the plant, to my surprise. Nor spoke one praise of wintry skies 5 Like man who while the present cloys. Still dreams of past and future joys, 42 I thought it now my turn to preach. And Nature’s wrongs inspired my speech : ‘ Ungrateful shrubs ! Ah why disdain This brightest season of your reign. Unconscious of your favoured doom Amid surrounding death to bloom? Though pleasure flies man’s frost-bound fields, Virtue her mental treasure yields ; Sweet Charity thy blessings rise Like breath of Roses to the skies ; Pity like Summer’s dew descends On him deprived of roof and friends ; While housed beneath a snow-charged sky That bids us on ourselves rely. We reap from muse, or moral page. The plenteous harvest of the sage.* This said, lost moments to repair. My purposed spoils engaged my care; Yet never plucked I flower, or bough. But that I felt — I know not how — That leaves were veins, a babe each bud, The rind a skin, the juices blood. Thus ere I struck, I looked around, And plants less animated found; 43 But lest my preference should offend, I snatched one laurel from my friend, And though a monarch must bestow it, I brought it home to crown his poet. 44 PRIDE. FABLE XI. A straw-roofed cottage in a glade Beside an ancient wood, Protected by its tufted shade. In humble neatness stood. Before it, measuring many a rood, A corn field sloping spread. And reached the vale where Tavy’s flood Foams o’er its rocky bed. A hedge, through every season green. Divided from the wheat A garden, formed for use I ween. Yet beautiful and sweet. There of a thousand brilliant dyes, Disposed with rustic taste. Each flower and plant that shepherds prize. Each wholesome herb was placed. 4 5 The virgin Snow-drop Winter cheered ; In Spring, in choice array Tulips and Hyacinths appeared ; In Summer Pinks so gay. The mottled Daisy set in rows. Eye-bright to clear the view, Sweet Williams, Heart’s-ease, Scarlet-Rose, And Stocks, and Violets blue. In sunny corner where the bees Their honeyed trade pursue. Grew Majoram, Lavender, Sweet Peas, And Rosemary, Thyme and Rue. But of this bright enamelled bed. The Polyanthus race In many a tuft profusely spread, Usurped the largest space. Not that in merit such excel, (Few boasted favourites do) But that the posied Sunday belle Loved their becoming hue. 46 One vain of preference,, pert and gay, Just peeping through the pale, A Cowslip spied, in field array. And thus began to rail, c My country cousin, why so near Us flowers of high degree? Me thinks you look but shabby here. And much discredit me. What if these noble garden plants My low connexions knew ? I soon despised must fly these haunts. And herd with weeds like you.’ * I am not used,’ the modest flower. With downcast eyes, replied, c To vaunt myself, nor, had I power. Would emulate thy pride.’ By chance in Honeysuckle bower I sat, and pleased at heart To hear the meekness of the flower. With interest took her part. 47 f And hush/ I cried, ' conceited thing! Thy place so prized resign. While yonder gentle child of Spring, Henceforward shall be mine. Void of discernment, dost thou think Her less deserving praise. Whose unaffected virtues shrink. And shun the public gaze ? Compare with hers thy boasted bloom, Her graceful form behold. Observe her elegant perfume, Her bells of speckled gold. At village feasts, where most ye shine. On Phebe’s breast ye die ; But Cowslips yield the generous wine That sparkles in her eye/ Transplanted from her native fields Awhile the flowret sighed. But now content her fragrance yields. The cottage garden’s pride. 48 VULGARITY. FABLE XII. One August morn before the sun Had reached his glorious height. What time ere harvest is begun The corn fields most delight. Snug by a hedge, o’erhung with trees. Where blades less numerous grew, A nest of Poppies, placed at ease. Conversed with Bottles- Blue. <1 wonder much,’ with rustic grace A Poppy thus began, ‘ Why our mild inoffensive race Is so despised by man. The farmer, in whose fields we’re found. Rejects us with disgrace, And looks on Poppies in his ground As pimples in his face. 49 Man too, of strange, perverted taste, Miscals our potent sweets. Yet leeks are mid his dainties placed. And onions crown his treats. The same high parentage we claim With Oriental plants. And near relations bear his name Who in the garden flaunts. Owned too by soporific powers Who share the Doctor’s pride. Connected with Physician flowers, To science we’re allied. How bright mid universal green Our scarlet host appears. Not in more splendid garb are seen St. James’s Volunteers.’ * And we, a mild cerulean fair,’ A Blue-bottle replies, ‘ Though less conspicuous, proudly wear The livery of the skies. E 50 From Switzerland’s romantic heights Sprung our exotic race. Whom now this gentle soil delights,. Who British gardens grace. Let Roses still in hackneyed strain. With Celia’s Lilies blend. To blue-eyed Marian’s sighing swain Our tints new flatteries lend. While clowns, those tasteless sons of gain. Contemn the painted meads. On profit bent, our charms disdain, And scoffing call us. Weeds/ Amid the blades that glittered round. One loftier than the rest. With four-fold spiky honours crowned, The motley throng addressed. * Ye vulgar flowers’ (she seemed to frown) ‘ Who our bright limits share, Intruders (as at routs in town Queer country neighbours are) 51 Where Industry profusion yields. How dare ye creep so near ? Go, lurk in cold neglected fields; No gipsies harbour here. Blasting the boon to toil assigned, 111 omen’d plants ye blow, Ceres, indignant, hates your kind, Nor prospers where ye grow.’ She spoke; — when lo! a hostile troop. The reaper band appears; The trembling flowers began to droop, The Wheat to shake her ears. Alas! they chose that very morn To scatter death around, And Poppies, Blue-bottles, and Corn, Were levelled with the ground. & & LIB. 52 DESPAIR. FABLE XIII. List, maidens, in this witching hour. How a charmed Hare-bell loved a Swain Yclep’d the Shepherd of the bower. Who cared not for her pain. Yet he in truth was kind and good. And he wooed Geraldine the fair. And gathered garlands in the wood To deck her golden hair. He culled the wild Rose wet with dew. He culled the Lily of the vale. And Eglantine, and Violet blue. Sweet May, and Primrose pale. And eke this small bell, mid the grass. Oft his exploring eye would meet, — And yet he stooped not, for alas ! She breathed no tempting sweet. 53 * Oh !’ then in pleading strain, cried she,, ‘ Too lovely Shepherd of the bower ! Would that I were, till plucked by thee, The green wood’s sweetest flower. And fading, on thy gentle breast One happy, happy moment lie. Once to thy heart be fondly pressed. And then, rejoicing, die.* One luckless morn this lover flew O’er dells and dingles to the grove, To greet with flowrets bathed in dew The birth-day of his love. Alas ! he flew with careless speed. For he right gladsome was and young. And crushed the Hare-bell of the mead. Who thus her death lay sung : * O Shepherd so beloved by me. My early doom I joyous meet. Too happy, since disdained by thee, To perish at thy feet,’ 54 Damsels, profit by my story. Thus in unfashioned phrase rehearsed. Prize your peace, and maiden glory. Nor love who loves not first. 55 CRUELTY. FABLE XIV. A Catchfly, long for cruelty renowned, Infested Flora’s consecrated ground, Nor from the dawn of day, till setting sun. Had guillotine more execution done. From bright ephemera glancing to and fro. He tasted raptures sportsmen only know. That our more active, no less savage race. Derive from shooting, angling, and the chace. Yet these achievements no abhorrence raise. Use becomes Nature, so the proverb says. And this by Custom’s clearly understood. That Man loves sport, that game and fish are good. But thou, fair Nymph, whose weeping accents plead If but a mouse or sparrow’s doomed to bleed, Canst thou love him whom slaughter’s trophies stain ? — Oh check thy tears, or choose a gentler swain ! 56 But truce to satire,, Muse! thy strain command. Mankind’s caprices stronger tones demand. Accord to fabled lore the lyre, and tell What just deserts our tyrant plant befel. Domitian’s emblem, mischief fired his breast. Nor could his maw the solid food digest, Nice as the gods, the vegetable tribe From ducts unseen nectareous draughts imbibe. His stem like Basilisk’s eye allured his prey. Though formed with will and wings to fly away \ Still victims fluttered round in frolic maze. Heedless as Moths who perish in the blaze. Thus in a paradise of fruits and flowers, Revolving monstrous deeds he passed his hours. Displayed th’ accustomed uniform of blood. And trained to carnage every opening bud. Though Flora, Goddess of the enamelled plains. With chief delight o’er flowery vassals reigns. Fond of mellifluous treats her sovereign sway Myriads of glittering insect tribes obey. 57 Oft they in vain implored their Queen to grant A quick deliverance from this dragon-plant. Oft too their bosom friends, the fragrant race, Prayed riddance from their gentle tribe’s disgrace. But no petition altering Nature’s law. They claimed in self-defence the right of war, And called a council measures to devise, Of Bees, Gnats, Caterpillars, Ants, and Flies. On a dew-sprinkled bed of Mignionette, Armed cap-a-pee the brilliant members met. Nor did the Grecian chiefs in days of yore Deserve ten pages of description more. How then the vivid wonders of each tribe Shall my contracted numbers e’er describe ? Each form minute in scaly armour light. And Butterfly with gaudy banners bright? And Lady-bird in regimentals seen. And feathered Moth, and Fly in gold and greqn. And humble Bee yclep’d their trumpeter ? But hush, my Muse, lest faithless Memory err. 58 The flowers in silken robes gave sage advice. And called the buzzing throng to order thrice. And then decreed distinguished troops should go And perish, or exterminate the foe. To undermine the sanguinary brute Large Caterpillars first attacked the root. Beetles and Slugs his wily verdure eat. Beneath whose leaflets lurked the clammy net. \ At length a Wasp, with Roman virtue fired. By patriot love of liberty inspired. Flew at the obnoxious flower with active wing, And self-devoted sacrificed his sting. Thus fell the plant who Fortunes gifts abused, By foes beset, by gentle hearts accused. England, may virtue long adorn thy crown. And none but vegetable tyrants frown. 59 VANITY. FABLE XV. A Lilac, Flora’s darling child. The shrubbery’s early pride. In magic accents, sweetly wild. With exultation cried, * Avaunt from me, ye tardy dowers That grovel near the ground. Compelled to wait for sultry hours. In verdant fetters bound ! While I, precursor oft of May, In orient splendour dressed. Make the cold face of Nature gay, Her first-born most caressed. Warm with benevolence I bloom, Pride of the embowering shade. Or plucked, the gorgeous dome perfume. Or deck yon matchless maid. 60 Not even the Queen of shrubs, the Rose, Can double gifts bestow. Useless her humble foliage blows. Though bright her petals glow.’ This uttered with triumphant mien. Her light leaves swelled with pride $ Child of the valley, mild, serene. The Lily thus replied : * Vain blossom, gem of transient doom. Whence thy presumptuous boast ? That mid Spring’s yet unripened bloom Thy charms are courted most. True, Nature fixed with care divine Mid opening buds thy reign $ What place to thee could June assign Amid her thronging train ? Where trees in full luxuriance grow. How vain thy boasted shade ! Where in bright ranks Carnations blow. How would thy faint hues fade ! 61 By Julia are thy sweets confessed. Soft mingling with the gale \ But place thee on her snowy breast. How soon thy odours fail. Fair mid her leaves, thy sister see In virgin tints attired. She dwells not on her charms like thee. Yet, is she less admired ?’ Abashed her purple blushes fled, The pride of Summer came. And Lilacs numbered with the dead. No more our shepherds name. 6 <2 CONTENTION. FABLE XVI. A Chesnut-tree laden with bloom, A Laburnum with boughs dropping gold, A Hyacinth breathing perfume. One Spring morning proceeded to scold. The cause of the quarrel averred Was a doubt in an ill-fated hour, Which for beauty, by man is preferred. The Tree, or the Shrub, or the Flower. The Flower, as a Lady, spoke first. And (illiberal satire says) most, Sweets, garlands, charms, emblems rehearsed, And made lovers, and sonnets, her boast. But this was so common a ditty. And the Shrub held her merits so cheap. That he swore she was pretty and witty. And besought her her counsel to keep. 65 * Thy delights,’ added he, c are confessed. Truly Nature has made thy race fair. But thy beauties by Monarchs caressed, Thy favours even cottagers share. We Shrubs of a lineage refined Ne’er stoop with plebeians to bloom. Though Syringas, of ignoble kind, By chance may the village perfume. So graceful our flexible arms. Such fragrance our blossoms exhale, That even forest trees envy our charms. And parterres with vexation turn pale/ The Chesnut, indignant and proud. Frowned, as if he both parties despised. And shaking his branches, aloud, In few words his pretensions comprised* € Sweet Flowret,’ (he flattered the sex) ‘ I perceive my protection’s required. And lament yonder coxcomb should vex You, made to be loved and admired. 64 But no wonder he triumphs o’er you Who ventures with Oaks to compare, They whose might Britain’s enemies rue. Who the glory of conquerors share. Let fops ring their own empty praises. Who real insignificance feel. Self-boasting but ridicule raises. Our merits let others reveal.’ The furious Laburnum replied. The Chesnut retorted again. The Flower with the strongest took side. Yet endeavoured their rage to restrain. But why to curb anger aspire ? ’Tis a torrent that roars in the mind. As easy to rein in the fire. Or check the wild gusts of the wind. Each grew so outrageous at last. Such unparalleled insults occurred. And they all talked together so fast, That I scarce could distinguish one word. 65 So fearing that breakfast might wait, And conscious no blood could ensue, I left them to end the debate. And came home to relate it to you. 66 I M PRUDENCE. FABLE XVII. Through yonder furze-grown hill whose brow recedes, A deep sunk road to Milton village leads. Whose whitened steeple at the dose of day Seen in the valley, cheers the pilgrim’s way. On each side, rich with variegated shade. Steep rise the verdant banks with rock inlaid. Whose crags, with Holly, Broom, and Elder crowned, The fragrant Honeysuckle wantons round. While from the clefts pellucid drops distil, And form, half hid by leaves, a gurgling rill. Above luxuriant blooms th’ uncultured Rose, Mixed with the Hop, the feathering Goaf s-beard blows. And here and there a pollard Oak reclines. Whose moss-grown stem the tendril plant entwines, Bindweed, and Nightshade, luring to destroy. And tempting Bramble, bane of truant boy. In Spring; with topaz tint and emerald stem, The Primrose studs the sod with many a gem ; 67 While Nature yielding with judicious care In every flower a moral to the fair. In grassy shade half veiled her Violet race. And bade them teach the hamlet modest grace. The mother flowret of the fragrant brood Oft gave them good advice, as mothers shou’d. 4 My children, cherish solitude,’ she said, c Nor on each wanton breeze your odours shed. Here flourish safe beneath my sheltering wing, Sweet, unobtrusive harbingers of Spring.’ But one, a pretty, lively, blue eyed flower. Oft would peep slily from her humble bower. Pleased with the prospect, and the passers by. She loved to scent the gale, and catch the eye. One fatal evening, bent on rural feats, Maria came to fill her lap with sweets. Amid the grass the little truant spied, And * to my bosom come! Oh come!’ she cried But ev’n gay childhood scorns an easy prize. She saw a Moth on fluttering wing arise. Her willing favourite dropped upon the ground, And chased the vagrant with elastic bound. The slighted beauty fell, as Fate decreed. On the soft borders of a painted mead 5 68 Revived by dews, when to herself she came, Alas! she looked around with grief and shame. Amid the gaze of Buttercups she laid. No friend to pity, and no leaves to shade $ Oft on her mother’s dear-loved name she cried. And mocked by vulgar weeds, lamenting died. 69 INGRATITUDE. FABLE XVIII. On that green hill’s romantic side Which crowns yon distant view, O’er-hanging Severn’s gentle tide, Two youthful Beeches grew. Beneath Palemon’s fostering care. In one fraternal band. Unnumbered nurslings flourished there, Reared by his skilful hand. But chief in faithful friendship paired. These sisters lived, and loved. Each other’s simple pleasures shared. Each other’s sorrows proved. When from the North the blast arose, And shook their tender forms. Together twining to oppose. They braved the winter storms. 70 Or when mild Maia’s Zephyrs blew. And gently waved the trees, Their secret thoughts, to friendship true. They whispered in the breeze. No envy lurked beneath their leaves To blast their mutual fame. Envy a sister’s triumph grieves. Their triumphs were the same. Single, their forms, their polished stems Might beauty’s meed have claimed, But joined, these vegetable gems Through all the land were famed. Alas full oft has Beauty proved The ills with fame combined ! Palemon to a friend he loved. One favourite Beech resigned. But as with trembling hand he snatched Her fibres from the ground. The sister root from birth attached Received a fatal wound. 71 A splendid Castle s noble pile A park’s wide precinct graced ; Where frowns the Oak, where Chesnuts smile. The chosen tree was placed. There while the minutes danced along, And every scene was gay. While mirth, festivity, and song, Resounded through the day, Th’ exulting plant, elate with pride, (Ye prosperous fair, attend !) Forgot her grove, the silver tide. And ah ! forgot her friend. The wounded Tree in silence grieves. By cold unkindness torn. She lost the lustre of her leaves. And drooped, and died forlorn. But mark what punishment befals Waste, luxury, and vice. Ruin soon stormed the Castle-walls, The timber fetched its price. 72 The Forest a new lord confessed. Whom taste nor beauty fired 5 Th’ ungrateful Beech, among the rest, Beneath the axe expired. 73 JEALOUSY. FABLE XIX. For each emotion of the mind A fairy shrine I’ve tried to find In Flower, in Shrub, or Tree But ah what flower, or plant could bear The struggling, torturing pangs that tear Thy victims. Jealousy ? Could blossom frail, whose tender form Scarce for an hour endures the storm, With thee one moment dw'ell ? Th’ uncertain dread, the chilled desire, The sick regret, the restless fire Must burst her silken shell. Or were the sturdy giant Oak To feel thine agonizing yoke. His generous heart deceived j He whom no common blasts o’ertake. Soon would thy powerful torments shake, And Nature’s self be grieved. 74 To Darwin* whose Botanic song Wantons their wild amours among, I leave the daring task : To paint the gentler pains of love* Whose flattering doubts affection prove* Oh Muse* is all I ask ! Descendant of the garden’s pride (Narcissus for himself who died) A Jonquil graced the grove ; A Butterfly* with silver wing, Struck with her saffron charms in Spring, With vows declared his love. The virgin flower was coy a day* She turned her golden head away* And sent him to the sky ; But when he next his flame expressed, That she felt much the same confessed, And sealed it with a sigh. How joyful now the season past! Each moment happier than the last, They swore to love till death ; 75 He worshipped at her silken shrine, 1 And fluttering round her sweets divine, Imbibed her fragrant breath. It happened that one sunny morn They saw an Amaranth, hot-house born, Released from crystal shrine j The Butterfly whose taste was good. Who flowers, and honey, understood. Swore she was quite divine. The next day at th’ accustomed hour When insects leave their secret bower. No glittering lover came 3 His Jonquil gazed around the grove, And oft in trembling tones of love She breathed his cherished name. At first in sorrow’s plaintive words. She dreaded boys, museums, birds. And patient watched, and sighed ; But soon with sudden frenzy stung, With throbbing heart, and faltering tongue, ‘ That horrid Amaranth,’ cried. 76 ‘ While here in dire suspense I die, Too sure that cruel barbarous fly Courts yonder trumpery flower - y Am I, less fair, less sweet than she ? Can he, oh false ! thus torture me To flirt with her an hour ? How often did my mother warn To treat all Butterflies with scorn, A fickle, fluttering race ? Perfidious too, to call me fair. To idolize my virtues rare. And thus my choice disgrace I Didst thou e’er know thy Jonquil trip ? Bee, Wasp, or Fly, my nectar sip? Reserved for thee alone y Ah, wretched flower ! Ah, lot severe ! Flies who suspect, their doubts may clear, I here till death must moan.’ Then drowned in tears, she looked above — Oh joy! — she saw her feathered love On Zephyrs’ pinions borne, 77 And she, who not an hour before. Had vowed she’d ne’er behold him more, At once forgot her scorn. She frowned 3 — but something in her ear He whispered which I could not hear, I saw her smiles return 5 Whether he’d slept that day too long, Or roved the green-house plants among She knew, I ne’er could learn. 78 A D V E R S I T Y. FABLE XX. Veronica, an azure Weed, In lanes and bushes known. Long on the borders of a mead Had unmolested blown. Once wafted by a western breeze, Her child the embrio fruit. To Laura’s garden in the vale Descended and took root. Left on a bed of plants for seed. Neglected, and unseen. Soon sprung and blew the vagrant weed, .And trailed among the green. From country and relations snatched. Disconsolate she pined. And many a Butterfly dispatched To sisters left behind. 79 Yet while her heart was far away. Spite of regret she found. Her roving sight would often stray To blooming scenes around. She saw each pampered garden-flower Mankind’s and Fortune’s care. Some grasping at imagined power. Some fading in despair. She saw mean jealousies engage Each beauteous plant in turn, Saw malice, spleen, and pride, and care. In silken bosoms burn. Then would she cry, with sighs repressed, € Oh Fate, I blame not thee ! But were I half as much caressed. How grateful should I be.’ One hot day drooping, scarce alive. And panting for a shower. She saw fictitious rains revive Each fainting plant and flower. 80 Then first arose her plaintive voice, And * spare, oh spare,’ she cries, * One drop of moisture to rejoice A fellow plant that dies.’ The tribes prosperity had trained, Now wanton, fresh, and gay, Marked not her moan, or deafness feigned. And turned their heads away. The flowers and blossoms watered first. Next shrubs, who near her grew. To quench her agonizing thirst Refused the kindly dew. But one, a Jasmine crowned with bloom. More gentle than the rest. With mercy viewed her wretched doom. And sympathy expressed. e Poor little bud ! how earnest thou here In these luxuriant haunts? Expect nor help, nor pitying tear, ✓ From pleasure-hardened plants/ 81 Then shaking from her starry head A grateful silvery shower, A momentary succour shed. And saved the suffering flower. The story my compassion moved For one so meek and young, I bore her to the friends she loved, The pasture whence she sprung. 82 FELICITY. FABLE XXI. Yon green winding Valley where gurgles the stream, Conceals in its bosom a farm, Where Damon has long enjoyed life’s pleasant dream, Free from poverty, vice, and alarm. When the Summer sun darts perpendicular fires. On the cottage luxuriantly spread, A Vine rich with foliage and clusters aspires. Exalting her beautiful head. Not the fox-tempting grapes more deliciously glow As depicted by iEsop of old ; Vagrant shoots o’er the porch their light umbrage bestow. And flaunt in the breeze uncontrolled. Ceres, fond of the swain, and the climate, each year Waves her tresses of gold o’er his fields; Breathing fragrance and plenty, his hay-ricks are near. And his orchard rich beverage yields. 83 The low of the cattle, the flock’s distant bell, Feathered tribes seeking sustenance round. Oh ’tis strange sickly Pomp loves in cities to dwell. While such scenes are mid cottages found ! One evening I strayed, when the hay fields smelt sweet. And found the old swain in the shade, His daughter sat spinning, his boys at his feet. And content on his countenance played. Fanny led to her garden, serene was the hour. From the sprites now no murmurs were heard, Save a murmur of joy from the fortunate flower, Their beautiful mistress preferred. But they joined with the Vine in a carol so sweet, I thought spell-bound nightingales sung. Ah! how can my uninspired accents repeat On the air what soft melodies hung? f Oh pastoral Innocence, daughter of Heaven ! Revisit our Isle,’ (was the strain) * And again to mankind shall be Paradise given, And Eden shall flourish again.’ 84 WONDER The Child of Ignorance . FABLE XXII. Once on a rock reclined I lay That o’er the Ocean frowned. Tempests obscured the face of day. And lightnings glared around. Sad sighed the Spirit of the storm. Congenial with my soul ; Like passing hours of various form I marked the billows roll. Some heaved like woes with mighty swell. And broke with hideous roar. Some lightly foaming, curled and fell Like pleasures quickly o’er. Between loud peals, by livid light. Or when the horizon cleared, Th’ unbounded waters to my sight Eternity appeared. 85 While thus I mused, a powerful blast My strength could scarce oppose, Snatched from my bosom as it past A full-blown damask Rose. Wafted away, a rocky cleft The vagabond impedes. Which (by the ebbing waters left) Was fringed with oozy weeds. But who their wonder can describe To see the blooming love? She rushed upon the ragged tribe An angel from above. Or as on tangled thicket strayed Decked with health’s native hue, Appears a rosy- tinctured maid. Among a gipsy crew. ‘ Whence,’ cried the chief of Fucus’ race, * Oh beauteous stranger, say? What smiling minister of grace Has hither winged thy way? 86 Oft has the glorious source of light At eve thy tints displayed $ Art thou, with crown celestial bright. From heavenly regions strayed? The coral caverns of the deep. Where, as in crystal shrine. Unnumbered radiant treasures sleep. Boast not a form like thine. Portentous being ! friend, or foe. Still let thy slave adore ; Oh bear me, ere the billows flow. To thine enchanted shore !’ © The Rose, whom briny damps assail. Began to droop and fade. She felt her strength, her odours fail. And feebly thus she said : * Deluded Plant, soon wilt thou see I claim no heavenly birth. But know that Power, who rules the sea. With wonders fills the earth. 87 Think’st thou that He whose thunders roll, Who bids yon lightnings shine, Who spreads the stars from pole to pole, Confines his gifts divine ? Earth, Air, and Ocean, at his voice Replete with beauties glow 5 No more deceived, in Him rejoice From whom all blessings flow.’ ‘ ■' NOTES INTRODUCTION. c Her wand a Cowslip’s stamen seemed/ P. 1, 1. 10. The stamens are the slender filaments issuing from the centre of flowers, differing in situation, number, &c. FABLE I. f The image of the Sun.’ P. 6, 1. 10. The Sun-flower, or Helianthus, a native of America. FABLE II. ‘ There Lythrum points her purple spears, Iris her golden standard rears.’ P. 8, 1. 13, 14. Lythrum, or purple-spiked Loose-strife, and the yellow or marsh Iris. f The giant Hemlock held a place.’ P. g, 1. 8. The water Hemlock, which grows to the height of four feet, is a poisonous plant, bears yellowish flowers, and has a purple spotted stalk. 90 FABLE III. i Doomed malicious old virgins to fade, Whom multiplied petals deform. While she her soft banner displayed/ P. 14, 1. 13 . The garden flowers rendered double by cultivation, are barren. The superior petal of the pea called the standard, or banner, is evidently designed to protect the other parts of the flower from the inclemency of the weather. FABLE VI. € Embalmed her in a pot pourri/ P. 26, 1. 4. A well known appendage to a lady’s dressing-room, being a mixture of dried flowers, spices, herbs, and musk, put into a vase. FABLE VIII. * The Hedysarum loves the sun/ P. 31, 1. 10. The moving Honeysuckle, or Hedysarum-movens, of which there are specimens in the botanic garden of Edinburgh, fur- nishes the most astonishing instance of vegetable motion. It is a native of the East Indies. Its movements are solely excited by the influence of the sun’s rays. When the sun shines, the leaves move briskly in every direction. Their general motion, however, is upward or downward, but they not unfrequently turn almost round, and their footstalks are evidently twisted. 91 These motions go on incessantly as long as the heat of the sun continues, but they cease during the night, and when the wea- ther is cold or cloudy, &c. See Smellie’s Philosophy of Natural History, p. 5. * While the Mimosa, modest maid.’ Ibid. 1. 13. The Mimosa, or Sensitive plant. c And Lupins whom their buds delight.’ Ib. 1. 16. The leaves of the white Lupin, in the state of sleep, hang down, and protect the young buds from being injured by the nocturnal air. FABLE IX. ‘ From yonder brake, on rainbow wing.’ P. 36, 1. 1 7. The Burnet moth flies slow morning and evening, and feeds chiefly on furze. f The flowret fell asleep.’ P. 38, 1. 16. The flower of the Campanula closes at night. FABLE X. p. 39 . This fable was addressed to Mr. Pye in consequence of a con- versation on the subject of the Seasons, and of his opinion in- troduced in his novel of The Aristocrat, Chap. 52. 92 FABLE XI. ‘ My country cousin, why so near ?’ P, 45, 1. 13. The Polyanthus is only a variation of the Primula genus, comprehending Primrose, Oxlip, Cowslip, and Polyanthus. FABLE XIII. ‘ Oh! then in pleading strain, cried she.* P. 53, 1. 1 . The thought expressed in the three stanzas of the complaint of the Hare-bell, was partly taken from a little German song of a Violet and a Shepherdess, which was rendered for the author into English prose. FABLE XIV. P. 55. Silene quinque vulnera, or variegated Catchfly, so called from the clammy juice exuding from the stalks under each pair of leaves, sufficiently glutinous to entangle small flies. The petals are remarkable for the deep red spots in the centre, like drops of blood, as if the flower had received five wounds. FABLE XIX. ‘ Descendant of the garden’s pride/ P. 74, 1. 7. The Jonquil belongs to the Narcissus genus. 93 FABLE XX. Page 78. Veronica, or wild Speedwell, a trailing plant. FABLE XXII. * Whence cried the chief of Fucus’ race.’ P. 85, 1. 1 7 . The sea weeds are included in three genera, Alva or Laver, Fucus, and Conserva. THE END. IPrinteXJ Bj? 2F. l&zwlzv, BOLT-COURT, FLEET-STREET, LONDON s *$ POEMS, umorous anti Sentimental: CONSISTING OF CUMBERLAND PASTORALS: TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS FROM THE CLASSICS ; EPISTLES, FABLES, SONGS, AND EPIGRAMS. BY THE REV. JOSUH RELPH. WITH MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. Embellished with Picturesque Engravings on Wood by Beioi i( THE POETIC GENIUS OF MY COUNTRY BADE ME SING THE LOVES, THE “ JOYS, THE RURAL SCENES AND RURAL PLEASURES OF MY NATIVE SOIL, IN MY NATIVE TONGUE. I TUNED MY WILD, ARTLESS NOTES, AS SHE “ inspired.” Burns. THIRD EDITION. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY VERNOR AND HOOD, AND CHAMPANTE AND WHlTROW, JEWRY- STREET, 1805. [Price 5s. in Boards .] ■' .• ^ v : •* %o f ' ■ ; ... :-v ■ V VC ■ a:-' A Newcastte on Tyne: Printed by J. Mitchell, Dean-Street* THE LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. — — In becoming the historian of events which have been the primary or assisting causes of some great revolu- tion, or in relating the prominent actions of an able statesman, a profound politician, or a distinguished warrior, the narrator is actuated by a desire to present the fruits of his labour to the public in as polished a manner as possible, and his fame is frequently con- sulted before the truth. It happens however, not unfrequently, that a spirit of moderation is preserved, which tends to give us instruction, even though the information be not correct. — But these Memoirs are of a different cast : they are not calculated for the meridian of fashion. No failings are liable to be wounded, except vice ; and no dispositions are likely to be disgusted, except such as are inimical to domestic felicity. The character we mean to pourtray stands but little indebted to foreign assistance for the improvement of a genius which seems natural and intuitive. From his earliest years he displayed a propensity to compose ; •but these exercises were merely for his own amuse- via LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. The life of an amiable man, distinguished both as a Clergyman and a Poet, might be naturally ex- pected to abound with literary anecdotes, which however is not the case ; neither is there a single trait in his conduct “ Which spoils the credit of a generous fame.” A regular display of suavity of manners seems to have been his general characteristic. There appear but few singularities or eccentricities in his conduct, except those which proceeded from the goodness of his heart. His modesty with respect to his own genius savours of timidity, and will probably by some be denominated weakness ; for he bestowed as much pains to prevent himself being known, as others under the same predicament would have done to bring themselves into notice. Whatever motive influenced him to do a good action, it was certainly different from that of most other men : like the benevolent Howard, he was uneasy when he became the subject of conversation, and would have blushed if any action he performed was thought worthy of a compliment. During the whole of his life, from the time he commenced a teacher of youth, did he continue in that situation ; and even though he exerted himself for their improvement to the utmost extent of his abilities, we find that he frequently experienced ingratitude both from his scholars and their parents — a circumstance which impressed his mind with the most poignant LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. is sensations. It appears from his papers, that he noted upon these occasions the feelings of his mind, which demonstrate what a conscientious regard he paid to that which he conceived his duty. — “ January 21 , 1737 . “ When any of the hoys under my care do not make such cline), and his father had begged his forgiveness for the injuries he had done him, that he was prevailed on to return. Not long after this, our poet paid the debt of nature ; but there is scarcely a period of his life mere illustrative of his real character than his latter LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. xr moments. Prepared as he was for the event (having long laboured under an hectic consumption), with a manly philosophy, he collected all his scholars a few days before his death, to inform them of his situation, and to give them an admonitory lesson before he died. The purport of his instructions is still remembered by his surviving pupils with the venerable awe of a man whose memory is deified in their minds. To appropriate his address to their different capacities, he sent for them individually, and in an advice adapted to the disposition of the person to whom he spoke, he incul- cated the duties of morality and religion. He called to their recollection the many lessons he had given them, and dwelt with peculiar force on the propriety of forming religious habits ; that, amid the various avocations of life, they ought to address that Being who gave them existence, and from whom their happi- ness was solely derived ; to view the advantages which honour and riches, power and wealth, might give them, as of little use, unless made subservient to the happiness of their fellow creatures, the promotion of benevolence and good-will, the relief of distressed humanity, and the advancement of virtue. He likewise sent for several poor people in his neighbourhood, who laboured under any particular misfortune, and not only made them pecuniary pre- sents as large as his finances would allow, but consoled them, in a most affecting manner, under their respec- tive calamities j and, in conclusion, observed, that that xvi LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. God, who supplies with a munificent hand the wants of the fowls of the air, who distributes food in plenteous profusion throughout the earth, for man and beast, would not neglect the poor and the unfortunate. Thus died Josiah Relph, June 26th, 1743, in the 33d year of his age, regretted by all who knew him. He died in the same house where he was born, and was buried in Sebergham church-yard, the scene of many a nightly walk. In the year 1794, the Rev. Mr. Rougher, much to the honour of his liberality, caused a neat monument to be erected to his memory, with the following inscription : M. S. Reverendi viri, Josias Relph, Cujus id erat ingenium, ea eruditio, Et tantus animi candor, morumque sanctitas, Ut illustrius quodlibet in ecclesia munus Digne sustinuisset et ornasset. Deo aliter visum est ! Partes ergo humiliores, baud forsan inutiliores Ludimagistri et hujusce ecclesiae sacerdotis Lubenter excepit, Et constantissime explevit. Camjenis amicus, Mores egrestes, tanquam alius Theocritus, feliciter cecinit De brevitate vita:, lector, ne aueraris ! En virum, brevis quidem 3evi, si numerentur anni, Sin recte facta et virtutes spectes, longissimi ! Hie et enim, magno cum dolore omnium, Sibi yero maximo cum lucro, Ante obiit, quam annum 32dum absolvisset: vi Cal. Jul. A. D. 174$. LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. xvii TRANSLATION* Sacred to the Memory of the Rev. Josiah Relph, Whose Genius and Learning, Whose Candour of Mind and Purity of Morals, Would have supported with Propriety, and adorned The highest Offices in the Church. But Heaven ordered it otherwise ! It was his Lot to move in the humbler. Though not less useful Capacity Of a Schoolmaster and Minister of this Parish. He undertook their Duties willingly. And faithfully discharged them. Devoted to the Muses, Like another Theocritus, he sung, in happy Strains, The unpolished Manners of rural Life. READER, Do not complain About the Shortness of his Abode on Earth ! Lo, man ! indeed of a contracted Age, If his Years are reckoned ; But, if you properly examine his Actions and his Virtues, He was very old ; For he, to the great Grief of all, (But to himself a most happy Event) Died June 26th, 1743, Before he had completed his 3 2d Year. Mr. Relph, in stature, was tall, yet genteel ; had a commanding aspect ; and, when he began to speak, the quickness of his eye, with the expression of his countenance, indicated such marks of a superior genius, as always to leave a strong prepossession in his favour. — He became at times rather peevish, con- c xviii LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. sequently severe and forbidding ; but, when he mixed in company, the cloud was dispelled from his brow, his conversation was animated, and his thoughts were expressed with neatness and perspicuity. The manner of his living was rather singular.— He accustomed himself to milk and vegetables, and his principal beverage was water. — It would be harsh however to attribute his death to this cause : it is more probable that his consumptive habit originated from the cold he might receive in his midnight walks. These Poems were never published during the lifetime of Relph ; but were left by him at his death to a neighbouring lady, with no other recommendation, than a hope that the perusal of them would afford her an agreeable amusement, as the writing of them had done him. She had, however, too much veneration for the memory of her deceased friend, to withhold from the public so striking a proof of his genius and abilities. We cannot give our readers a more just idea of the merits of these Poems, than by transcribing the following character of them, given by the Rev. Mr. Boucher : — “ Relph’s merit as a poet has long been felt and acknowledged. We do not indeed presume to recommend h : m to those high-soaring critics, who affect to be pleased with nothing but the vivida vis, the energy and majestic grandeur of poetry. His verses aspire only to the character of being natural, terse, and easy : and that character they certainly merit in LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. xix an extraordinary degree. His Fables may vie with Gay’s for smoothness of diction ; and are superior to Gay’s, by having their moral always obvious and apt. But it is on his Pastorals in the Cumberland dialect that, if we might presume to seat ourselves in the chair of criticism, we would found his pretensions to poetical fame. That our opinion is perfectly right, it might be presumptuous in us to suppose ; but we certainly have persuaded ourselves, that a dialect is, if not essential, yet highly advantageous, to pastoral poetry : and that the rich, strong, Doric dialect of this county is, of all dialects, the most proper. On this ground, Relph’s Pastorals have transcendent merit. With but a little more of sentiment in them, and perhaps tenderness, they would very nearly come up to that inimitably beautiful pastoral, The Gentle Shepherd of Allan Ramsay. In short, these Cumberland eclogues are, in Englsih, what we suppose those of Theocritus to have been in Greek. The ideas, as well as the language, are perfectly rural ; yet neither the one nor the other are either vulgar or coarse. Pope’s Pastorals (and perhaps Gay’s too in an inferior degree) are so trim and courtly, that the language of his shepherds and shepherdesses is as polished, and their ideas as re- fined, as if all their lives in courts had been : whilst Philips’s damsels and swains, notwithstanding the un- couth rusticity of their names, are so affected, as to be quite unnatural. Relph drew his portraits from real life : and so faithful were his transcripts, that there XX LIFE OF THE REV. JOSIAH RELPH. was hardly a person in the village, who could not point out those who had sate for his Cursty and Peggy. — The Amorous Maiden was well known ; and died a few years ago, at an advanced age. “ The character of Relph’s muse was a natural elegant ease and simplicity. He loved indeed to survey, though at a distance, the sublimities of Carrock and Skiddaw and Saddleback : but was contented to cull a few simple wild flowers that bloomed spontaneously in some neglected dells on the banks of the Caldew. “ In delineating the passions and customs opera- tive on low life, he is inimitable. And that critic must be insensible to the beauties of nature, and pro- priety- of character, who does not with pleasure accom- pany our bard, whilst, with a picturesque accuracy, he discriminates the peculiarities, and describes the undis- tinguished and innocent loves of the Damons and Chloes of the vale of Sebergham.” Besides the Poems that have been already pub- lished, he wrote, at a very early age, others of a miscellaneous nature, though much inferior in point of merit. Many of the Greek and Roman writers he either wholly or partially translated. Among his un- published translations are — TheTreatise of Consolation generally ascribed to Cicero ; Epictetus’s Enchiridion j the Table or Picture of Cebes ; the Epistles of Pliny $ and several Orations from Cicero and Isocrates. THE CONTENTS. PASTORALS , tic. Harvest, or the Bashful Shepherd, in the Cumberland Dialect - -- -- -- - 3 The Walk 8 On Tea - - - «■ - - 10 Hay-Time, or the Constant Lovers - - - - 1 1 The Favourite Fountain - - - - - 16 Written with a Pebble on a Rock at Corby-Castle, See . 19 On the fine Gardens at Corby - ib. The Wish - - ------ 20 The Despairing Shepherd ib. The Wish - - - - -- -- 21 St. Agnes’ Fast, or the Amorous Maiden - - 22 On the Death of Amyntas - - - - - 25 Celia Singing - - - - - - -27 The Poet’s Petition - - - - - - 28 Occasioned by a little Miss’s bursting into Tears upon reading the Ballad of “ The Babes in the Wood” - - 29 Written after reading Pamela, or Virtue rewarded - 31 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. The Battle of the Giants, a Fragment, from Claudian Horace, Book II. Ode XXI. • *, Book II. Ode VII. in the Cumberland Dialect From Boetius - - - - - Quiet Life, from Martial - True Happiness, from Appollodorus - Pythagoras’ Golden Verses ..... Seneca, an Exile in Corsica ..... The 19th Idylium of Theocritus, attempted in the Cumberland Dialect ------- “53 De Paulo Canente, &c. - - - - 54 The Story of Pyramus and Thisbe, from the 4th Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses - - - - - - 56 35 4i 43 44 4 5 46 48 5i CONTENTS. xxi! Epitaph on Paris, from Martial - * - - 62 Sir Thomas More - -- -- --63 Horace, Book I. Ode VIII. Imitated in the Cumberland Dialect - -- -- - --64 In Imitation of Horace, Book IV. Ode X. - .65 of Horace, Book I, Ode XXVII. - 66 of Horace, Book I, Ode XI. 67 of Psalm CXXXI. , * - - 68 of Psalm CXXIII, .... 69 EPISTLES. A Burlesque Epistle to Mr. John Cowper - * * 73 To the Printer of the Kendal Courant - - - 75 An Epistle to Mr. , on his Return from Glasgow College 78 To the Rev. , on his visiting a sick Person, 1729 79 ‘ “ ‘ ‘ “ 8o 82 83 B5 87 88 89 9 2 ibm A Burlesque Epistle to the Rev. Mr. An Epistle to Mr. Cowper, at Penrith - - An Epistle to Captain Crosby, at Carlisle An Epistle to Mr. , at Oxford Another Epistle to the same . - - To the Rev. Mr. — - To Mr, Cowper, in Love - - - To a Ypung Lady learning Arithmetic To the Rev. Mr. Cowper, on his Voyage to Dublin FABLES. Fable I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. The Boy and the Birds The Sparrows and the Robin The Snails and the Fruit The too-free Nag - . . The Petted Nag - - . The Boy and the Sparrows The Husbandman and the Horse * The Sluggard and the Sun The Goose and the Hen 95 ib . 96 97 98 99 IOQ 101 102 SONGS. Song I. All female charms I own, my fair, • 105 II. On a downy bank I . lye « ib. III. While other nymphs make hapless swains 106 CONTENTS. Xxiii Song IV. One Sunday morn, in chearful May, - 107 V. When Damon first to Chloe spoke - - 109 VI. Nelly Dove - - - - no VII. A thousand charms can Lesbia boast - 112 VIII. Why sighs my dear friend from the depth of his soul - - - - - ib. IX. Come, Pastora, come away - - 113 X. Damon and Chloe, in Imitation of Horace x 1 5 XI. In Imitation of Horace, Book II. Ode XXVI. 117 XII. O what a deal of beauties rare - - 1 1 8 XIII. Lucinda summons ev’ry charm - - 119 XIV. Hark! that solemn sound is one ! - - 120 XV. What charms has Chloe ! - - - 12 2 Epigram I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. JX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. EPIGRAMS. Lnbricilla - - - - 1 25 To Dean Swift, on a Report that he designed to leave his Fortune to build an Hospital for Idiots - • - - ib . Lollius - ib . Lesbia - - - -12 6 Celia • * • • • ib . To a Young Lady, after losing at Whisk ib . From the Greek . . .127 Advice to Strephon . • . ib . On a Wrangling Couple, from Martial 128 Catullus .... ib. On the Author of a late Sermon, &c. . ib. Delia - - - - 129 To the Ladies, oh the Recantation in the Kendal — w ^ — Courant m ib. Orinda •- 130 Damon . ib. - • ib. From the Delic • I 3 I Arra and Paetus, from Martial ib. To Narcissa, who took it ill to have me called her Lover - ib. On Varus - 132 - - ib. Acerra, from Martial - ib. Over a Glass of Birch Wine, extempore 133 XXIV CONTENTS, Epigram XXIV . To Thomas Denton, Esq. - 133 XXV I From Nicolaus Faber - - ib. XXV I. To Mr. Green, under a Decay, and debarred by his Doctors from drinking - 134. XXVII. The Grasshopper, from Anacreon ib. XXVIII. From Martial - - - 135 XXIX. From Anacreon - - - 136 XXX. From Martial - - - ib. XXXI. Eliza at Church - - - 137 XXXI 1 . From Martial - ib. XXXIII. From Buchanan ... ib. XXXIV. Occasioned by the Death of a young Girl 138 XXXV. From Martial - ib. XXXVI. The Worm-Doctor - - 139 XXXVII. From Martial - ib. XXXVIII. The Hour-Glass, from Amaltheus 140 XXXIX. From Martial - ib. XL. On the Storms at Sea, and the King’s safe Arrival in Britain - - 141 XLT. From Martial - ib. PASTORALS, S 9c. HARVEST, OR, THE BASHFUL SHEPHERD. IN THE CUMBERLAND DIALECT W hen welcome rain the weary reapers drove Beneath the shelter of a neighbouring grove j Robin, a love-sick swain, lagg’d far behind. Nor seem’d the weight of falling showers to mind j A distant solitary shade he sought, And thus disclos’d the troubles of his thought : — Ay, ay, thur drops may cuil my out-side heat ; Thur callar blasts may wear the boilen sweat But my het bluid, my heart aw in a bruil. Nor callar blasts can wear, nor drops can cuil. A 2 4 PASTORALS, See. Here, here it was (a wae light on the pleace !) At first I gat a glift' o’ Betty’s feace : Blyth on this trod the smurker tripp’d, and theer. At the deail-head, unluckily we shear : Heedless I glim’d, nor could my een command. Till gash the sickle went into my hand : Down hell’d the bluid, — the shearers aw brast out In sweels of laughter, — Betty luik’d about ; — Reed grew my fingers, reeder far my feace, — What cou’d I de in seek a dispert kease ? Away I sleeng’d, to grandy made my mean ; My grandy (God be wud her, now she’s geane} Skilfu’, the gushen bluid wi’ cockwebs staid. Then on the sair an healen plaister laid : PASTORALS, &c. 5 The healen plaister eas’d the painful sair ; — The arr indeed remains — but naething mair. Not sae that other wound, that inward smart,— My grandy cou’d not cure a bleedin heart. I’ve bworn the bitter torment three lang year. And aw my life-time mun be fworc’d to bear, ’Less Betty will a kind physician pruive ; For nin but she has skill to medcin luive. But how should honest Betty give relief? Betty’s a perfet stranger to my grief : Oft I’ve resolv’d my ailment to explain ; Oft I’ve resolv’d indeed — but all in vain : A springin blush spred fast owr aither cheek, Down Robin luik’d, and deuce a word cou’d speak. Can I forget that night ! — I never can — ■ When on the clean-sweep’d hearth the fpinnels ran : The lasses drew their line wi’ busy speed ; The lads as busy minded every thread ; When, sad ! the line sae slender Betty drew. Snap went the thread, and down the spinnel flew : To me it meade — the lads began to glop — ■ What cou’d I de ? I mud, mud take it up ; ' I tuik it up, and (what gangs pleaguy hard) E’en reach’d it back without the sweet reward. 6 PASTORALS, 8cc, O lastin stain ! e’en yet it’s eith to treace A guilty conscience in my blushen feace : I fain wou’d wesh it out, but never can ; Still fair it bides, like bluid of sackless man. Nought sae was Wully bashfu’ — Wully spy’d A pair of scissars at the lass’s side ; Thar lows’d, he sleely dropp’d the spinnel down — And what said Betty? — Betty struive to frown; Up flew her hand to souse the cowren lad, But, ah ! I thought it fell not down owr fad : What follow’d I think mickle to repeat — My teeth aw watter’d then — and watter yet. E’en weel is he ’at ever he was bworn ! He’s free frae aw this bitterment and scworn ! What ! mun I still be fash’d wi’ straglen sheep, Wi’ far-fetch’d sighs, and things I said asleep ; Still shamefully left snafflen by my sell, And still, still dogg’d wi’ the damn’d name o’ mell! Whare’s now the pith (this luive! the deuce ga’ wi’t!) The pith I show’d whene’er we struive to beat ; When a lang lwonin through the cworn I meade. And, bustlin far behind, the leave survey’d. Dear heart ! that pith is geane, and comes nae mair, Till Betty’s kindness sail the loss repair : PASTORALS, &c. f And she’s not like (how sud she ?) to be kind, Till I have freely spoken out my mind j Till I have learn’d to feace the maiden clean, Oil’d my slow tongue, and edg’d my sheepish een. A buik there is — a buik — the neame — shem faw’t ! Some thing o’ compliments I think they caw’t, ’At meakes a clownish lad a clever spark : 0 hed I this ! this buik wad de my wark ; And I s resolv’d to have’t, whatever’t cost : My flute — for what’s my flute if Betty’s lost ? And, if sae bonny a lass but be my pride, 1 need not any comforts lait beside. Farewel my flute then, yet ere Carl fair I to the stationer’s will straight repair. And boldly for thur compliments enquear £ Care I a fardin, let the ’prentice jeer. That duine, a handsome letter I’ll indite. Handsome as ever country lad did write j A letter ’at sail tell her aw I feel, And aw my wants, without a blush, reveal. But now the clouds brek off, and sineways run j Out frae his shelter lively luiks the sun $ Brave hearty blasts the droopin barley dry. The lads are gawn to shear— and sae mun I, 8 PASTORALS, &c. THE WALK As through the grove’s delicious gloom With Zephyrissa bless’d I roam. No more the pensive turtles pine ; The turtles lose their love in mine. The warbler, heedless of his lays. My goddess eyes with ardent gaze j To songs his bosom bids adieu, — His bosom heaves with raptures new. Officiously the breezes wait. The fair one’s fervours to abate i But soon themselves the breezes glow, And ask the cooling aid they owe. Why darts the fair-fac’d god of day Among the boughs so fierce a ray ? The god, invidious, would impair The beauties of a face more fair. PASTORALS, kc. 0 In robes of richest, rarest dye, The flowers, enamour’d, court her eye ; Then sigh their souls, in zephyrs sweet,— How proud to languish at her feet ! The crowded boughs her bosom kiss, All trembling with ecstatic bliss ; Then seize, as oft her swain has done. Her garment, griev’d to part so soon. O still, my charmer, stay and rove, Thus still a goddess of the grove ! How tasteless is thy tea, my dear, And O how sweet our nectar here ! Nor dread the beauteous scene’s decay, If Zephyrissa deign to stay ; Still beauteous shall the scene appear, And spring smile joyous all the year. £ JO PASTORALS, &c. ON TEA. Let poets praise, in rapt’rous dreams. Their pretty naiads, purling streams ; No stream purls half so sweet as ours. No naiad half so pretty pours. Her powerful cups let Circe bless. And men transform to savages ; Of happier force, our charmer’s can Polish the savage into man. Medea’s potions may bestow On aged blood a youthful flow ; Chloe’s, of power yet more uncouth, Quicken the very flow of youth. And, Jove, tho’ Hebe crown thy treat With nectar and ambrosia sweet; We envy not, while we can boast Our as delicious tea and toast.* * r Hasty in rows they rak'a the meadow's pride. Then sank amid the softness side by side . Constant Lovers*. PASTORALS &c. ii HAT-TIME; OR, THE CONSTANT LOVERS. CURSTY AND PEGGY. W arm shone the sun, the wind as warmly blew, No longer cool’d by draughts of morning-dew ; When in the field a faithful pair appear’d, A faithful pair full happily endear’d: Hasty in rows they rak’d the meadow’s pride, Then sank amid the softness side by side. To wait the withering force of wind and sun, And thus their artless tale of love begun. 12 PASTORALS, &c. CURSTY. A finer hay-day seer was never seen, The greenish sops already luik less green; As weel the greenish sops will suin be dry’d, As Sawney’s ’bacco spread by th’ ingle fide. PEGGY. And see how finely strip’d the fields appear, Strip’d like the gowan ’at I on Sundays wear; White shows the rye, the big of blaker hue, The bluimen pezz greenmentwi' reed and blue. CURSTY. Let other lads to spworts and pastimes run, And spoil their Sunday clease, and clash their shoon If Peggy in the field my partner be. To work at hay is better spwort to me. PEGGY. Let other lasses ride to Rosley-fair, And mazle up and down the market there; I envy not their happy treats and them. Happier my sell, if Roger bides at heame. PASTORALS, &c. i3 CURSTY. It’s hard aw day the heavy scy’ to swing ; But if my lass a holesome breakfast bring. E’en mowing-time is better far, I swear, Than Cursenmas and aw its dainty chear. PEGGY. Far is the gursin off, top full the kits ; But if my Cursty bear the milk by fits. For gallopin to wakes I ne’er gan wood, For ev’ry night’s a wake, or full as good. CURSTY. Can thou remember, I remember’t weel, Sin, call wee things, we claver’d owr yon steel ; Lang wully-wands for hoops I yust to bay, To meake my canny lass a leady gay. PEGGY. Then dadg’d we to the bog owr meadows dree. To plet a sword and seevy cap for thee ; Set off with seevy cap and seevy sword. My Cursty luik’d as great as anny Iword. *4 PASTORALS, &c. CURSTY. Beneath a dyke, full menny a langsome day. We sat, and beelded houses fine o’ clay 5 For dishes, acorn-cups stuid dess’d in rows. And broken pots for dublers mens’d the waws. PEGGY. 0 may we better houses get than thar. Far larger dishes, doublers brighter far j And ever mair delighted may we be, 1 to meake Cursty fine, and Cursty me ! CURSTY. Right oft at schuil I’ve spelder’d owr thy rows. Full menny a time I’ve foughten in thy cause j And when in winter miry ways let in, I bore thee on my back thro’ thick and thin. PEGGY, As suin as e’er I learn’d to kest a loup. Warm mittens wapp’d thy fingers warmly up j And when at heels I spy’d thy stockings out, I darn’d them suin, or suin set on a clout. *5 PASTORALS, &c. CURSTY. 0 how I lik’d to see thee on the fleer ! At spworts, if I was trier, to be seer 1 reach’d the fancy ruddily to thee. For nin danc’d hawf sae weel in Cursty’s ee. PEGGY. O how I swet, when, for the costly prize, Thou grupp’d some lusty lad of greater size ; But when I saw him scrawlen on the plain, My heart aw flacker’d for’t, I was sae fain. CURSTY. See ! owr the field the whurling sunshine whiews. The shadow fast the sunshine fair pursues ; From Cursty thus oft Peggy seem’d to haste. As fair she fled, he after her as fast. PEGGY. Ay, laddy, seem’d indeed for truth to tell, Oft wittingly I stummer’d, oft I fell, Pretendin some unlucky wramp or strean, For Cursty’s kind, guid-natur’d heart to mean. i6 PASTORALS, See. CURSTY. Sweet is this kiss as smell of dwallow’d hay. Or the fresh prumrose on the furst o’ May j Sweet to the teaste as pears or apples moan. Nay, sweeter than the sweetest honeycomb. PEGGY. But let us rise- — the sun’s owr Carrock fell, And, luik ! — whae’s yon ’at’s walking to the well ? Up, Cursty, up ! for God’s sake let me gang, 4 For fear the maister put us in a sang ! THE FAVOURITE FOUNTAIN- FIES NOBILIUM TU QUOQUE FONTJUM* Hail, sweet solace of my care ! As the Sabine fountain fair ! And where mine the Sabine’s lays. Thou should’st rival it in praise. Boast old springs a sacred train. Of their nymphs and satyrs vain f i PASTORALS, &c. 1 1 Frequent to thy streams repair Swains as merry, maids as fair. Boast old poets in their bowers To converse with heavenly powers;— Often here, at evening walk, With the Power Supreme I talk. Softly hurls the stream along, O how gentle, yet how strong! Sweetly murmuring in its flow. Nor too loud, nor yet too low; Touch’d with cold nor heat extreme, Pierce the frost or beat, the beam; Knowing nor to grow nor fail, Rage of storms nor droughts prevail ; Rise the mud or fall the shower, Spotless ever, ever pure. May my life be like my theme, Such a little chearful stream ; Nor in hurry wildly spent. Nor quite flat and indolent: Thus resistless let me lay. Every ear attentive stay, And each care- distracted breast. Sooth enchantingly to reft. PASTORALS, See. 18 Let not Fortune’s smile or frown Raise me up or cast me down. Still the same, unalter’d still. Change she fickle as she will. May I always be inclin’d To advantage human kind ; But most ready to dispense Benefits on indigence. Thro’ this world, and its vain toys. Sullying pleasures, soiling joys. Let me wander without blame, Pure returning as I came. PASTORALS, Sec, 19 WRITTEN WITH A PEBBLE ON A ROCK AT CORBY- CASTLE, Upon seeing the fine Works in the Gardens there . Let Protestants no more dispute That miracles appear, A single instance might confute. But see a thousand here. ON THE FINE GARDENS AT CORBY, F or Paradise’s seat no more Let travellers search on Persia’s shore ; Its groves still flourishing appear Upon the east of Eden here. !> l 20 PASTORALS, &c. • THE WISH. If some good-natur’d power divine Shall deign to see this shade of mine. And if that God (as gods have been Delighted with a rural scene) Well pleas’d, shall promise to impart The bliss that heaves my longing heart. This wish I’ll readily present — “ Make me in ev’ry state content.’* THE DESPAIRING SHEPHERD. Since my dear Damascena’s lost. The only blessing life could boast. These streams that roll far, far below. Shall free me from this state of woe. PASTORALS, &c. 21 Oft in those sweetly cooling streams. Oft have I bath’d my burning limbs ; Your favours, gentle streams, repeat. And cool once more my raging heat. Then to the banks, where dwells my dear. This breathless carcass kindly bear ; Ah no ! in silence waft it by. For fear the sight offend her eye. Her charms at leisure to survey. My ghost shall hover night and day. Still watching, with officious care. Occasions to oblige the fair. THE WISH. A s in a vale through silent groves, A little pleasing riv’let roves ; Now here now there delights to stray. And cheats with murm’ring songs the way. Till weary with the wand’ring race. It sinks into its sire’s embrace ' 22 PASTORALS, See. In some lone place I’d pass my life. Unvex’d with anxious cares and strife j And when my clear, unclouded light Gives way to gloomy shades of night. Weary with sport, with sleep oppress’d. I’d gently sink to endless rest. ST. AGNES’S FAST; OR, THE AMOROUS MAIDEN, How lang I’ve fasted, and ’tis hardly four,— «* This day I doubt ’ill ne’er be gitten owr j And theer as lang a night, aleis ! beside,— I lall thought fasts seek fearfu’ things to bide. Fie, Roger, fie ! — a sairy lass to wrang. And let her aw this trouble undergang : What gars thee stay ? — indeed it’s badly duine : Come, come thy ways — thou mud as weel come sum* For come thou mun, aw mothers wise agree. And mothers wise can never seer aw lee. PASTORALS, &c. 3 3 As I was powen pezz to scawd ae night, O’ ane wi’ neen it was my luck to light; This fain I underneath my bouster laid. And gat as Faffc as e’re I could to bed : I dreamt — the pleasant dream Ps ne’er forgit. And ah this cruel Roger comes not yet! A pippin frae an apple fair I cut, And clwose atween my thumb and finger put, Then cry’d, whore wons my luive, come tell me true. And even forrit stright away it flew ; It flew as Roger's house it would hev hit. And ah this cruel Roger comes not yet! I laited laft aw Hallow-Even lang For growen nuts the busses neak’d amang: Wi’ twea at last I met; to aither nut I gave a nearne, and baith i’ th’ ingle put ; Right bonnily he burnt, nor flinch’d a bit. And ah this cruel Roger comes not yet! Turnips ae Saturday I pair’d, and yell A pairing sav’d, my sweetheart’s neame to tell: Slap fell it on the fleer; aw ran to view, And cawt it like a C — but cawt not true; Fornought, I’s seer, but R the fcrawl wad fit. And ah this cruel Roger comes not yet ! H PASTORALS, &c. A fortune-teller leately cam about, And my twea guid King GweorgesI powt out) Baith, balth (and was not that a pity) went, And yet I cannot caw them badly fpent: She sign’d a bonny lad and a large kit, And ah this cruel Roger comes not yet! When t’other night the bride was put to bed. And we wad try whea’s turn was neest to wed. Oft owr the shoulder flung, the stocking fell. But not yen hat the mark, except my sell) I on her feace dire&'y meade it bit. And ah this cruel Roger comes not yet! But what need I fash me any mair. He’ll be obleeg’d, avoid he’t ne’er sae sare. To come at last; it’s own’d, it seems to be, And weel I wait what’s own’d yen cannot flee ; Or, sud he never come, and thur fulfil, Sud cruel Roger pruive fae cruel still, I mun not, like a fuil, gang fast aw day, And kest my sell just wittenly au 7 ay. She said, and softly slipping cross the floor. With easy fingers op’d the silent door ; Thrice to her head she rais’d the luncheon brown, Thrice lick’d her lips, and three times laid it down A fortune-teller leately com about , And my twea guid King Gweorges 1 powt out . St. Agnes* Fast, r i PASTORALS, &c. *5 Purpos’d at length the very worst to pruive — ’Twas eafier fure to die of ought than luive. ON THE DEATH OF AMTNTAS. A myntas is no more! Ye Virtues, wail the youth; For Modesty and Truth Must never hope to meet With such an heavenly seat: Then ever thus deplore Amyntas now no more. A myntas is no more! The swain, ye virgins, mourn- Ah, never to return! The pleasures of the fair Were still Amyntas’ .care: Then ever thus deplore Amyntas now no more. D 2.6 PASTORALS, &c. Amyntas is no more ! Lament your loss, ye youths; No more Amyntas fooths, With converse sweet, the road Of life, now hardly trod : Then ever thus deplore Amyntas now no more. i Amyntas is no more ! My friend, my best good friend! Still let me mourn his end. The youths thus ever call. The virgins, virtues all. Thus ever to deplore Amyntas now no more. PASTORALS, See. 2 7 CELIA SINGING. W hen Celia sings, the notes inspire A still attention round the fire : Their threads no more the maidens ply. Before the swains the spindles lye ; The mistress’ tongue forgets to move, And happy I no longer love. Just so, the truth if poets tell, When Orpheus struck his lyre in hell, Ixion’s wheel was seen to stop, Ocnus omits to twist his rope. At large rolls Sisyphus’s care. Their hissing plagues the furies spare, And Tityus’ heart, charm’d with the lay. The vultures cease to make their prey. D 2 28 PASTORALS, See. THE POET’S PETITION. If Phoebus his poet’s petition would crown, I’d ask a retreat in a snug country town. Near which a clear stream in a valley should glide. With fountains and meadows and groves by its side $ And then my ambition no farther should stray, But to better my life and to better my lay. To virtue’s improvement and vice’s decay. * A competent fortune should be my next call. Too great for contempt, and for envy too small ; I would work, not for need, but my fancy to please. With various enjoyment of labour and ease : And then my, &c. A friend of like temper and honesty try’d. Should double my joys, and my sorrows divide ; But far from my cottage let beauty remove, Nor poison my innocent pleasures with love « And then my, &c. PASTORALS, &c. 29 At town I or seldom or never would come. Unless when no subject of satyr’s at home ; Or (since sweetest pleasures the soonest will cloy) To give a new relish to surfeiting joy : And then my,.&c. And when those dear pleasures no more shall be mine. Not weary with life, nor yet loth to resign. In death I would gently dissolve, as in rest. And this epitaph should be wrote on each breast— The poet’s ambition no farther did stray. But to better his life and to better his lay. To virtue’s improvement and vice’s decay. OCCASIONED BY A LITTLE MISS’S BURSTING OUT INTO TEARS UPON READING THE BALLAD OF (( The Babes in the FF'ood” As the sad tale, with accents sweet. The little ruby lips repeat, Soft pity feels the tender breast For infant innocence distress’d ; 3° PASTORALS, See. The bosom heaves with rising woe. Short and confus’d the pauses grow. Brimful the pretty eye appears. And — bursts at last a flood of tears. Sweet softness ! still, O still, retain This social heart, this sense humane ; Still kindly for the wretched bleed. And no returns of pity need ! In plenty flow thy days and ease. Soft pleasures all conspire to please ; Long may a sire’s affection bless. And long a mother’s tenderness. And thou, O bard ! whose artless tongue The sadly-pleasing story sung. With pride a power of moving own No tragic muse has ever known. Complete is thy success at last ; The throng admir’d in ages past ; Prais’d lately Addison thy lays. And Nature’s self now deigns to praise. PASTORALS, See. 3* WRITTEN AFTER READING PAMELA, OR, VIRTUE REWARDED. W hat is it, happy author, say. That steals thus unperceiv’d away ; That, where but negligence appears. Dissolves the reader into tears. Thy pages, like thy wond’rous theme, Artless and undesigning seem ; Yet warmth to each beholder lend. And fix him their and Virtue’s friend. Henceforth, ye trifles, all adieu. Each guilty and each idle view j And Virtue, sole-deserving guest. To thee still sacred be my breast : PASTORALS, &c. 32 Yet if a lovely fair I spy. Like her whose shade here charms my eye, The hasty vow I’ll break in part. For Pamela must share my heart. Translations and Imitations. ( A • / TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 3 ? THE BATTLE OF THE GIANTS, A FRAGMENT. FROM CLAUDIAN, Tellus of old, urg’d by a double cause, Jove’s happy empire and the Titans’ woes. Brought forth in Tartarus an horrid brood ; Then Phlsegra open’d, of her offspring proud, To bring the monster-armies up to light, And daring meet the heavenly powers in fight. A noise ensues — boist’rous the rebel rout. Intent on execrable crimes, rush out j With giant strides majestically stalk, Clinch their big fists, and heaven to arms provoke. Pale wax the stars, depriv’d of wonted fire, Apollo’s horses terrify’d retire. And the bear, startl’d at so strange a sight. To seas forbid before precipitates her flight. 36 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. Then thus her issue chears the mother vain ; My sons, of tyrant gods the future bane. Far as your view can stretch, this fight secures ; Yours be the victory, and the world is yours. Tellus’s force give Jove at length to feel — Must she thus humble to each upstart kneel ? Why did Cybele a superior bear. And why of honour mine so small a share ? What heavy pressures do I not sustain ? What means are wanting to procure my pain ? Here on the mount must poor Prometheus stay, His vitals doom’d an everlasting prey ; There Atlas groans beneath the pond’rous spheres. While icicles depend around his ears : Why should I Tityus name* whose growing heart Matter administers for endless smart ? But you at length avenge my wrongs in fight. Rescue the Titans and a parent’s right : You want not fatal instruments of war, Mountains and rocks your mother’s members tear $ Herself an instrument would gladly be, To prove the downfal of this tyranny. Undaunted then, my dear avengers, rise, And humble yon proud turrets of the sides. TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 37 How rich the spoils ! — Typhosus must prepare To launch the thunder, and the sceptre bear ; Encelladus must o’er the sea preside ; Aurora’s chariot let some other guide ; While thou, Porphyrion, shalt thy temples grace With Delphic wreathes, and take Apollo’s place. Thus sooth’d the dame her sons with idle dreams, ' To them all heaven above at mercy seems, }► And Neptune dragg’d indignant from his streams : _ This thinks he makes the potent Mars his prey. That robs poor captive Phoebus of his ray j With Cytherea one his fancy warms. Another clasps Diana in his arms, > Or vows to violate the chaste Minerva’s charms. Meanwhile th’ immortal powers convene above, From streams and lakes solicitous they move. The very distant mains bring forth their aid j Queen Proserpine forsakes the Stygian shade. And Pluto, monarch of the silent night, Directs his horses to the realms of light : His horses wildly wonder at the day, And, while they panting strain up the steep way, ► Thick clouds of darkness round their nostrils play. __ 38 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. As when a town dreads some vast engine’s power. All flock promiscuous to defend the tower ; Just so the gods of every station ran. To guard the throne of Jove, who thus began. — - Immortal powers, above the reach of fate, (And well ye merit that immortal state) See Terra’s new-born sons, a numerous train. Advance to terminate the heavenly reign ; But give her pride those sons extinct to mourn. And into trouble all her transport turn. Now was the signal given on either side, A rattling shower the trumpet’s sound supply’d ; Nature quak’d for her Lord ; the powerful crew All things into a second chaos threw : Islands are forc’d up from the foaming main. Beneath the water skulk the rocks in vain ; Where seas late roll’d, is now a naked shore. And streams now run where steams ne’er ran before. Whirl’d with vast force here Octe clouds the sky. There swings Pangaum, just prepar’d to fly ; This Ossa from its firm foundation tears, That Rhodope with Heber’s fountain rears ; A third Olimpus to his shoulder heaves, Enipeus down his back impetuous hurls its waves \ TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 39 The earth becomes a level boundless plain. In airy regions wild disorders reign. And harsh ungrateful crashes shock the brain. First driven with active rage, the god of war Against the horrid foe impels his car ; The shield glares dreadful in each hostile face. The waving plumes his glittering helmet grace : Down comes his sword across Pelorus’ groin. Just where two snakes his ugly bowels join ; With such a dexterous force he gave the wound. Three worthless lives a worthy period found : Triumphant o’er the yielding corpse he rode. And spotted all his car with spouting blood. Then Mimas, furious at his brother’s fate. Rais’d up all Lemnus’s unwieldy weight : All Lemnus, charg’d with Vulcan’s forge, had flown. But Mars’s spear fell heavy on his crown ; The batter’d brains his widening jaws discharge, And every lifeless limb drops down, and lies at large : Not so the snakes — they still remain secure j Still hiss his snakes, still scorn the victor’s power. Now, with a warlike grace, the warrior-maid Stepp’d forth j her shield the Gorgon’s face display’d: 40 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. Her shield alone (sufficient arms) she bore j Who sees it once is doom’d to see no more. And Pallas first the fatal object saw j His curdling blood thro’ each cold vein crept slow : What means this lazy lethargy, he cry’d. Why stand I like some marble statue ty’d ? But said no more — the gift of speech was gone. His every faculty lay lost in stone ; And, as Damastor sought some rock to throw, By sad mistake he whirl’d him at the foe. Echion, wond’ring at his brother’s change, And ignorant of its author, vows revenge ; But vows in vain ; — the Gorgon meets his eyes, He owns Minerva’s matchless force, and dies. Palleneus then advances in a rage. With eyes averse the goddess to engage ; The goddess grasps her sword, and gives a blow, The monster falling, loads the plain below ; His gazing snakes meanwhile congeal to stone : Thus part by weapon falls, and part by looking on. But, see ! Porphyrion midst the deep essays The trembling Delos from its root to raise : iEgeus quakes ; from watery caves retire Affrighted Thetis and her hoary sire j TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 41 Neptune’s late crouded palace is become An empty, silent, solitary dome ; The nymphs on Cynthus’ summits fill the skies With sad complaints, and pity-moving cries : (The nymphs that careful did a couch compose. When fair Latona felt a parent’s throes. That taught young Phoebus how to throw the dart) With all the secrets of the sylvan art,) Distressful Delos begs her Pean’s aid, “ If in my lap thy infant limbs were laid—