ABELARD to ELOISA,

LEONORA to TASSO,

OVID to JULIA, V SPRING,

AND OTHER POEMS.

INSCRIBED, BY PERMISSION,

T O

HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

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Del Goffredo, Canto XII. Stanza 90.

THE FOURTH EDITION,

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Price Three Shillings. [ Q- iit.r.0 at StatCottws’ Mt. ]

T O.

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WHOSE ELEGANT TASTE IN THE POLITE ARTS

IS ONLY EQUALLED

THE GRACES OF HER PERSON,.

THESE

POEMS

ARE GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED,

B V

HER MOST DEVOTED SERVANT,

THE AUTHOR.

A D FE RTISEMENT.

A HE story on which the following Poem is sounded being generally known, a recital is unnecessary. The Letters of Abelard and Eloisa are in the hands of

every person of taste; and will continue to be admired

while the pallion os Love actuates the human breast. Had the writer of this epistle kept them less in view, he might have been thought to have deviated too much from historical authority; had he traced them more closely, some would have called him a mere copyist.

A B E L A R D

T O

E L O I S A.

WRITTEN IN THE YEARI/77_L\ O, Eloisa, let each cell declare, Where oft I bend in agonizing pray’r, If cold my blood, my pulse inactive grown, I am indeed allied to lifeless stone.

Yet did no fense of am’rous joy remain, No fading image wanton in the brain,

Sighs with such passion breath’d, and words of fire, Might warm the frozen with unchaste desire. Dearer than sister ! can I think of thee,

From tumult, rapture, and distraction free ?

I view

B I view thee still in all thy virgin charms, Fair as when first I won thee to my arms; The convent’s prisoner again I see,

From the world sever’d, and cut off from me; Then I recall that fatal scene of night

But what you know too well, why should I write ?

I thought indeed, within these solemn rounds,

Where the walls echo with religious sounds, With piety the sinner’s self might glow, And learn to scorn the love of aught below. How partiallv I knew my wayward heart, And the dire tyranny of Cupid’s dart! When the keen lightning of a charming eye, Draws from the foul the deep-impasiion’d sigh, Yet what inconstancy the world displays! Man, arm’d with perjury, delighted strays. E’en those are fickle in the first degree, Who, but in that, too much resemble me : But as I often swore, so now I find,

No common bias sways my constant mind. Not volumes where each heav’nly cure is found. Supply the balm to mitigate my wound. Nor penitential tears, nor fasts controut

The frantic ardor of my erring foul.

Am 1, the wretch who, with insidious art,

Allur’d you first from virtue to depart, Am I invited penitents to’ teach, And what my conduct disavow’d to preach ?’

My

ABE LARD to ELOISA.

My conduct then, and my temptations now, War in wild combat with a vestal’s vow. Ah ! no; too skilful once in am’rous fraud, My tongue but feebly pleads the cause of God; For, while I point to realms of endless light, I sigh for earth, and downward bend my sight. But my fair sophist, Eloisa, means,

F_etorting arms I lent, to guilty scenes My foul again with fury to impel, And kindle all the subtle fire of hell. Pardon, thus rudely that thy name I treat, Lovelier than light ! than music’s self more sweet ! Which never should be mention’d but with joy, And holy lutes of angels might employ.

Could Eloisa now that face survey,

Where mirth in triumph shone for ever gay; How would stie start from the disgustful shade Of Abelard, in horrid vests array’d !

No sparkles from his eyes emit the foul, But down my ghastly cheeks dire sorrows roll. Now sacrilegious ev’ry softer care,

I count my matin beads and freeze at pray’r. The awful Judge I fee, my sentence hear, Condemn’d to scenes that hope must never cheer, Where fiery darkness, grief that hardens, reign, And wretches curse an adamantine chain.

Still deeper plung’d ill woe, they rush away Down, down,’ ten thousand fathoms from the day,

B 2

Ten thousand thousand more, till rack’d they lie, Beyond the trembling search of fancy’s eye. Recall your love from one who merits rage, Think of my coldness, treachery, and age.

Insatiate sparks of ever-young desire, An object vast and durable require.

Love God; he is—who what he is can speak, With whom compar’d all nature’s pow’r is weak ? Could the sight pierce this dome of azure skies, Which hides his lustre from our mortal eyes, The height of beauty must deform’d appear, And folly all that we ilyle wisdom here.

Forbear the hallow’d strain of friend and sire, To the base captive of impure desire; Deem not so dire a wretch of human kind, But view without the veil a demon’s mind. I shut you from the world with envious pain, Thus in my piety I prov’d prophane. Brother and husband will you call the foe, That in your bosom fix’d the thorn of woe ? Why should I read such tender names from you ? Th’ assassin of your youth, or worse, my due. To God I gave you, when you took the veil, Nor fear’d a rival, though I thought you frail; For who dare violate the holy dome,

Where abstinence and pray’r have sixt their home ? Your husband God, no jealousy is mine;

I yield my Eloise to love divine.

Serenely

ABELARD to ELOISA.

Serenely then prolong your blameless days; With meek-eyed charity attuning praise.

Ah ! Abelard, should this induce belief,

Your eyes would gush with swifter rills of grief. Did you resolve to write, with pious zeal, To” quench her fondness, and your exile seal ? No, not to Heav’n itself! can resign,

On earth at least she shall be wholly mine; Nor floods, nor fire, nor force of kindred foes, When she invites, the charmer should oppose : To my deserted, mourning love I’ll fly, Press her warm heart, and on her kisses die. Sever’d an age, the thought once more to meet, Once more our old endearments to repeat, Inspires with hatred to restraining walls, My vow dissolves, and all the man recalls. Brisk tides of joy rush through my throbbing veins, And my heart dances to unusual strains.

Oh ! I could gaze for ever on her eyes, Thence quaff delicious, amorous supplies Into my foul; till speech in vain would tell, The mighty transports that my bosom swell; Till left the wish that riots void of rein, To sighs, and looks, and blusl.es to explain. Yet looks and sighs but half express a flame; Such wond’rous beauty something more might claim.

Though who that once had known the fears and pain Disgusts and.dangers, doubts, delays, disdains, Which ever, Cupid, rack thy vot’ry’s foul, Within thy train would venture to inrol ? Henceforth then let us banisli from our breast Visions of pleasure, enemies to rest,

Tumultuous oceans where the foul is tost, Till reason yield the helm, and virtue’s lost, O grace ineffable ! O faith sublime ! •Unlimited in space, uncheck’d by time, Ye gloriously ascend in bold career,

Beyond the bound’ries of this narrow sphere; With rapture viewing heav’n’s immortal King, The best of benefits to man ye bring; A bliss sincere, which nothing can destroy, Which angels in triumphant light enjoy; Winter it smooths, makes summer lovelier glow„ And Paradise unfading plants below.

What blessings on the humble abbot wait ! Above proud monarchs in their anxious state, He leaves a world that sings self-flatt’ring song6, Whose smiles are snares, whose benefits are wrongs; To hold with God, among the first-born race,

Perpetual intercourse of praise and grace.

Doubt solves her veil, and zeal her lamp supplies, At joys immortal sparkling in his eyes;

Welcome as morning to the wand’rer’s sight, More pure than silver streams of lunar light. Witli holy pray’r heav’n’s portals he unbars, And ever watches, like th’ unwearied stars.

ABELARD to ELOISA.

Alms are his hoard, from moth and rust secure, His family the faithful and the poor. His foul imbibes simplicity’s clear ray,

Direct effulgence from eternal day !

He fathoms truth, and for his darling flock, Draws living water from a heav’nly rock; For penitents he heaves condoling sighsr Next to their tears, a grateful sacrifice! Though Ikill’d in tongues of men and seraphs’ lore, Meek charity he clasps, and prizes more; Hope, ever fair, his blissful dreams inspires,

And faith excludes e’en innocent desires; Suns rife to view this habitant of clay, To light approaching nearer ev’ry day

Till, “ Hither !” calls the Lamb; the Spirit cries, "By soft transition mingle with the ikies !”

But what dire tumults kindle in my breast, Marring ideas of ethereal rest ?

Still must this heart, O Eloisa, prove The wretched theatre of guilt and love ? By our youth’s flight, by Eloisa’s wrongs, By the worst calumny of pious tongues, By that abhorred night’s consummate woes, Oh ! spare me, Love, and leave me to repose. Alas ! the recreant’s pray’r that pow’r disdains, He sires my heart, and triumphs in my pains All Eloisa rises to my view,

My former wounds, now deepen’d, bleed anew. 8 ABELARD to ELOISA. What charms with thine, my spouse, can I compare A woman’s fondness, and a cherub’s air;

A blush of mildness breaking on the sight, Like emanating beams of new-born light; A breath more sweet than all Arabia blows; Lips that excel the ruby and the rose; On these, as bees on fragrant roses play, I could in kisses wear my life away.

Thy eyes diffuse inimitable sire;

Thy voice might warble with a seraph’s lyre, Soft as expiring notes at distance die, And gentle as the murmur of a sigh. But, oh! thy breast, inspiring vast delight, Luxuriant fancy whelms with dazzling white; Thy graceful motion and thy shape conspire To feed the flame of love’s immortal fire. With wonder I grow giddy while I gaze, And lose my soul in beauty’s charming maze.

Hence ! gay delusions of warm fancy’s pow’r, Years of remorse are paid for riot’s hour. The blush that kindled and reprov’d desire, The whisper’d languish, and th’ awaking fire, The soul-diffusing softness of the dove,

With all the melting luxury of love,

Can charm no more But in their place arise Dire horrors, scalding tears, and ceaseless sighs. Ye pathless caverns, in your hopeless gloom, A’monster from the face of man intomb!

Whelm

■ABELA.RP to ELOISA.

Whelm him, ye seas ! ye winds, disperse his frame ! Wrap him, ye lightnings, in your livid flame ! Unfold, ye furies, your dark realms below, And snatch from memory my guile and” woe !

O Hymen ! guardian of the dearest right!; Thine are fair confidence, and chaste delight, The mutual wish, the sentiment resi.n’d, The tender glance, and words for ever kind, In age the renovating pride of youth,

A smiling progeny, the seal of truth !

Through life each lovely virtue’s gayest bloom, And joys immortal opening from the tomb.

This, this, with Eloise, I might have known, Distracting thought! that deepens ev’ry groan. While pitying tears from flinty hearts were shed, Why was the victim to the altar led ?

Why.did not angels hear the vow that binds In rosy fetters two congenial minds ? Why did her fate the keenest.shaft employ, A mother’s pains, with scarce a mother’s joy ? For Heav’n (so far the guilty sire difpleas’d) The infant-token of our fondness seiz’d.*

When solemn night led on her starry train, While momentary slumbers held their reign; Before the altar late methought I stood,

Dispensing tothe croud celestial food.

• See the original Prose-Letters.

c

What

ABELARD to ELOISA.

What time I shar’d the Saviour’s mystic sign, I felt conviction, energy divine !

I look’d, and lo 1 the God who mangled bore The sins of humankind, debas’d no more. All-glorious from the sepulchre he rose With gifts for men, and benefits for foes. Around him angels, clust’ring with their wings, Struck their bold harps, and hail’d him King of kings, Devolving in full tide the void along,

High-warbled melody of soothing song. Satan, like lightning, at that moment fell, In adamantine bonds consign’d to hell;

He fell, and mounting, smil’d heav’n’s victor*Lord, Bright clouds invested him, and saints ador’d. Gli.t’ring with foil-less gems a crown he wore, Whose diadem was pointed thorn before;

The cross triumphant blaZ’d with tenfold noon, Beneath his feet eclips’d the fun and moon; Mild youth and majesty shone in his face, His eyes diffus’d unutterable grace.

"Hither ! all ye who thirst for life,” he cried, "And live, abundantly with health supplied.” Within me then a gentle whisper stole,

"Now banish Eloisa from thy soul.” A dawning wish too lent its feeble aid, And for release from love almost I pray’d.The God I follow’d with my aching sight, Till nature fainted in the panting flight.

ABELARD to ELOISA.

With faints immaculate above he reio-ns. And sinners leaves to voluntary stains.

How worthless is the learning of the schools ! No stoic yet was made by rigid rules; The highest efforts of the reas’ning art, That teach the tongue to combat with the heart, Like wind to fire, dilate the fatal flame, We quickly imitate the men we blame. Crown’d with the laurels won in wisdom’s field, Could I have thought that I to love should yield, Who painted virtue fair, and bade aspire Where saints reside, while angels tune the lyre ? But, Eloisa, my repose’s foe !

The swift transition of my cares you know : How soon philosophy resign’d her arms, And rhetoric was brib’d to plead thy charms. What cruel fate to torture me approv’d ? I gaz’d, admir’d, and, ere I knew it, lov’d. Nor, from the world’s observing eye secure, Had I before e’er stoop’d to passion’s lure. I reckon’d objects other men thought fair, If only so, beneath a lover’s care.

But wit, irradiating a form divine, My nobler possion fir’d at virtue’s shrine. What arguments were us’d need I repeat, (The tutor turn’d a suppliant at your feet) Till you consented gen’rously to rove, Through the gay labyrinth of flow’ry love ?

Delightful

C 2

ABE LARD itoELOISA.

Delightful.day ! when, ev%-<.oubt refiga’d, We liv’d but one, and mingted ‘hlind “-With m’vh-d; Esteem’s warm pledges “for-ft’d cftir dwretoplfey, While words were found too r-.tk. to speak our joy. My rapid murmurs prov’d -my trembling frame Glow’d then with febterfkah iffrondfhip’s feeble flame. In fable chains loose flow’d ‘your graceful hair, With pride I view’d the charms a king *iig’htA?fhtis^;”i Your lovely bosom he’av’d with frequent sighs, And all your foul ‘spoke ‘rapture in your eyes. What smiles remov’d each trace of groundless -tear ! ■ What broken whispers t-ln-il-l’d your lover’s “ear! Sweet as the vernal breeze salutes the bow’rs, When the light blossoms fall in.snowy stvowVs So softly gales, that lull the bird?, pervade

The lone recesses of the%iobtt-_ight shade-; Till our fond hearts on floods of bliss were tost, And in the boundless transport life was lost.

Sometimes a victim to love’s scorching flame-,’ 1 dare e’en now your delicacy bfeme. "We still had happy liv’d above the croud,” 1 cry, “ had Eloisa not been proud’:”

Forgetting that a passion so sublime-,

Will spread your name through-longArevo’lv_ng;ttme : Poets unborn shall in your praise combine,

What once was criminal shall be divine. Heav’ns ! when for ever in a dreary ceil-, With penitence and pray’r you vow’d to dwell,

ABE LARD. ELOISA.

With what a glow of youth, and smiling face,

Confirm’d serenity and heav’nly grace,

You bade adieu to earth’s contemned toys,

A candidate alone for deathless joys.

This from my bosom might distrust remove,

And vain the dread of wordly rivals prove.

Yet in a convent lastingly immur’d,

friends forsaken, and from love secur’d,

While youth with sprightly pulse beat in the blood

■>

And all her roses were but in the bud :

What stern-eyed stoic could refuse a tear ?

What saint unmov’d could her profession hear* r

From fields where flow’rs unfading bloom display,

From fields of rosy light and endless day,

Spirits of rest ! with visions bless ‘her nights :

Visions, bright antepasts of heav’n’s delights !

With solemn Cynthia vigils oft I keep,

And o’er some melancholy marble weep.

While thoughts desultory, like billows, roll,

That range the globe, and visit either pole;

Present, or past, alike dejects my foul.

‘Twixt pain and pleasure what a scene of strifeBut woe, predominating, clouds my life.

My fortune early from my friends disjoin’d,

And all my av’rice riches of the mind.

(For what are India’s gems and sparkling ore,

To wisdom’s charms and wit’s unfading store r)

ABELARD to ELOISA.

Mad mischief meditating, envy view’d, Religious slander soon my steps pursued; Then Eloisa’s love, my cruel doom, And living, both pale tenants of a tomb. For my poor bosom only now remain Exhaustless sorrows and distracting pain;

All the gay scenes that were my constant theme, Have left me, like a fair delusive dream. Songs once I wrote, now preaching is my care, For am’rous pastimes penance doom’d to bear. He who clafp’d beauty, crown’d with flow’ry bloom,

Lies in a dormitory’s lonely gloom;

Where level’d heroes, sleeping grandsires, spread

Through the still cloisters monumental dread.

A wretched exile on a barb’rous shore,

My native language charms my ear no more.

From marble hearts what comfort could I gain ?

I tell my sufferings to the stormy main :

As if the stormy main would milder grow.,

And sympathise with tearful tales of woe.

Could my dear Eloise the abbey view,

She would not think that sacred name its due. "What ornaments adorn the pompous doors ?”

The feed of hinds, and horrid heads of boars :

Of hideous animals the hides appear,

The cells are cover’d with the skins of deer. No solemn bell re-echoes round the walls,

But the shrill cock or dog to matins calls.

ABELARD to ELOISA.

On pamper’d steeds with noisy horns they bound,

And pleasure court upon forbidden ground. Yet these are venial faults to what I dread,

The sword suspended by a slender thread. With loud abuse they load, if I complain,

Then flee my sight, a fro ward titt’ring train 1

“By my vast wrongs to merit I desire, And try to kindle piety’s chaste fire.

Oh ! God, I cry, from thy transcendent throne Of light and life, make thy compassion known !

But earth-born sighs soon interrupt the pray’r,

My Eloisa still I fancy fair :

A thousand times I whisper the dear name,

Each repetition fans my former flame.

Let my idea ne’er from thee depart

Profoundly press the signet on thy heart. The lover’s idol makes the foul its slave,

And jealousy’s unpitying as the grave.

‘Tis grief, contempt, aversion, fierce desire,

A secret, but a sure-consuming fire.

Though I have vow’d to love thee never more,

I here recant it, for I rashly swore.

O Eloisa, can I coldly view

The mighty debt of gratitude thy due ?

What torture hast thou spar’d me ! if I fear

Thy constancy, where doubts to none appear.

Curse on the savage author of my woe !

Friendship’s warm pleasures may he never know!

ABELARD to ELOISA.

Damn’d to his coffers, may he still suppose Each brother false, aiid. all the world his foes. Grant, Heav’n, that he may live a liug’ring date, Dreaded by children, crush’d by age’s weight 1 May thieves diminish as he heaps his store, And the vile dotard sighing gripe for more ! In his remembrance only leave his crime,.

No cheerful sonnet to deceive the time !

Our present punishment we sadly know, Butssiall we thus all future pain forego? Ah! no contrition Mercy’s smile must win, Heav’n’s radiant portals bar the way to sin. Far from the altar fee !’ the Fair who feels The pow’r of penitence, and humbly kneels; Her glowing face with anguish writh’d appears, Her tresses loose, her eyes dissolv’d in tears : The horrors of the past afiault her mind, Outcast of good ! where can she refuge find ? Shall ssie for pardon Deity implore,

When ‘tis, in her, presumption to adore ? Her foul distracted at the prospect lies,

She wrings her hands, and only, “ Mercy”!” cries While Heav’n in sympathy with human woe, Absolves her, and forbids her tears to flow.

Thus, Eloisa, we’ll forgiveness seek, Sighing petitions which we dare not speak. And while from guilt we struggle for release, May not our pitying Father whisper peace ?

ABELARD to ELOISA.

But souls like ours, so deeply plung’d in crime Content recover, and refine by time;

For absent pleasures often must we sigh, And often must we wish, yet dread to die; Till hoary age, the messenger of truth ! Detects the sophistries that dazzled youth. As when his prince recalls an exile home, O’er desart solitudes long fore’d to roam; Or tost on ocean, ‘mid the tempest’s roar, With joy he views again his native shore. Our crimes forgiv’n, such is the bliss to die, With such a pleasure souls remount the sky. Oh ! when this scene of vanity and guilt, Where pride hath loftily her palace built, Shall trembling own a far superior Pow’r, While vice grows pale within the wanton bow’r; What time the fun no more shall shed his ray, To gild the flow’ry scene, and give the day; Night call no more, from realms to sage unknown, Her golden myriads round her azure throne; May we together rife, devoid of shame,

Our bosoms glowing with a nobler flame! Deck’d with new youth, and in unfading vests, May the Spouse welcome us, immortal guests! Where only friendstiip no reverse can fear, And without anguish triumphs love sincere; Where ever flows, unruffled, joy’s full tide, From God’s own fount with purest streams supplied

!

D

LEONORA

LEONORA to TASSO.

ARGUMENT.

TalTo, the celebrated Poet, by his superior talents had excited the envy of several

gentlemen belonging to the court of the Duke of Ferrara. The report of an

amour with Leonora, the most accomplished lady of that age, and the Duke’s

sister, was propagated by an intimate of the poet’s. A challenge ensued^

when his antagonist appeared with three more, who all, like assassins, fell

upon him. Tet Tasso, by his courage and dexterity, disengaged himself from

the snare. But the Duke, pretending a regard to his person, contrived that

a temporary confinement should^ end in an absolute imprisonment. While the

Author of Jerusalem Delivered lingered in a gloomy chamber of the Pri gione di Santa Anna, the Lady is supposed to write this Epistle.

__L O him her hope, and source of all delights, Her lord, her tutor, Leonora writes.

Though rude her hand, unpolish’d though her lyre., Yet Tasso’s name the dullest might inspire.

In thee unite whate’er the best will prize, For thou art valiant, generous, and wife; While wisdom beams from thee so mildly bright, It doth not dazzle, but refresh the sight. Unequal fortune! of fame’s sons below,

That worth ‘s a title to superior woe ! The hero, whom fresh laurels should adorn, Sets in a cloudy eve, though bright at morn.

Ulysses,

LEONORA to TASSO.

Ulysses, doom’d in various climes to roam, His faithful dog alone confefs’d at home. Darius, late the glitt’ring eastern god, Ten thousand slaves dependent on his nod, Heaven’s common bounty is reduc’d to crave, A cooling draught from the pellucid wave. Dauntless Columbus, who, in unknown ikies, View’d stars descend, and circling Phœbus rife; Who bent the world he found to Christian sway, And taught the devious savage how to pray; Dragg’d to his country an injurious load, By his indebted king’s caprice bestow’d. Now Tasso, than whose own no worthier name E’er wak’d attention from the trump of fame; Who won for Italy more praise, than Greece Acquir’d by Jason and his golden fleece; Giving a work with rich invention fraught, New stores of language, and delightful thought; Now Tasso, by his friend-, imprison’d lies,

And Leonora aids with empty sighs.

Were mine Armida’s strong enchanting pow’r, I would dissolve your bands; and frame a bow’r, Where hues should please, soft odours round you fly, And warbling minstrels with your songs should vie. But magic arts, you’ll fay, I need not prove, While words and tears (more eloquent!) can move. Yet how to intreat my brother shall I dare, Th’ unwilling cause of all the wrongs you bear?

D 2

Lately, Lately, where you had deign’d the theme to paint, I trac’d the steps of my departed faint :

The changeful scene resembled evening skies, Streak’d with the setting sun’s reflected dies. Here miserable monarchs I descried,

There happy sliepherds by a fountain-side. And, “ why, to care by grandeur unbetray’d, Was I not born, I cried, a past’ral maid?”— My furious brother instantly appear’d, "Great Pan, he cried, thy altars sliall be rear’d No longer by the swain’s ignoble hand, But kings shall peaceful tribes of flocks command; Rash champions shall forget dire war to wage, For Cupid sliall restore the golden age.”

Then with a voice like thunder in my ears,

"From woman’s love how copious flow the tears !”

Yet not in strains with cadence clogg’d by woe,

Did I expect my languid foul must flow;

When, though your wit had made my mind its prize, I found unheeded danger in your eyes.

Eyes which a vestal might allure to gaze, And think that angels shed not holier rays; Lively as light, sublime as heav’n’s bright pole, Lovely as spring, pervading as the foul. O wit! more pow’rful than all eyes beside, O eyes! that shame the rhetorician’s pride.

Sometimes imagination’s daring flights Unite us once again in chaste delights.

LEONORA to TASSO.

I listen to your voice’s heav’nly lay, And ev’ry moment a new grace survey. So beauteous roses we admire, that glow With matchless dies, and fragrant scents bestow.

Let slander, with her many tattling tongues, Misrepresent the story of our wrongs; If slander’s breath can puff away a name, As lamps in tombs, ‘tis but a glimm’ring flame. But virtue, like the fun, receives no stain, It may be clouded, yet will shine again. So blust’ring tempests round a cedar roar, They rend it not, but spread its odour more.

Deep in the vistas of Parnassus’ shade, Lately the bard Phœbean skill display’d. With ev’ry rising note loud praises grew, And envy prov’d those praises were his due. Now lost alike to music and to love, The warbler droops who charm’d the list’ning grove O Tasso ! nature shrinks at thought of thee, The brave man fetter’d, the black ruffians free. No soothing prospect to divert thy sight,

Denied the wretch’s privilege to write.

The mind may range; but that thy woes recalls, While scarce a taper glimmers round the walls.

Yet sure, if goodness were not form’d in vain, If those who glory seek shall glory gain;

A brighter recompense reserv’d I see, Than fading garlands from Apollo’s tree. Yes, thou shalt bloom again where never rage Of storm shall reach, nor. withering pow’r of age; For ever fix’d upon a rock sublime,

That scorns the silent sap of fleeting time. Sad sufferer no more, but saint serene ! Say, must I still endure life’s wretched scene? Must I still mingle with th’ unhallow’d throng, Where spring is brief, and winters last so long ? Oh! leave me not to days of tears and sighs, But snatch thy Leonora to the skies !

Then awful Justice shall on earth descend, Whom falt’ring villains dare not call their friend; The world shall tell thy adversaries’ shame,

While ev’ry echo shall exalt thy name.

OVID

OVID to JULIA.

ARGUMENT.

The banisJoment of Ovid has been attributed to various causes; and it is a very

general notion that Augustus was provoked to inflitl that punishment from

having detetled him in a correspondence with his daughter Julia. If the turn

of thinking in this epistle agrees with the poet’s supposed situation, the better

informed critic zvill have the good nature to overlook the mistaken opinion of

the author.

V V I LD as my sorrows shall these numbers flow, For labour’d language is a jest on woe.

When patients argue, light is the disease, I scorn the poet, so the lover please. If I suppress the honours of your name, To fondness how impertinent is fame ! From fame, too faithful to my bold amour ! Flow the distresses that we both endure. Amid the thunders of a bursting world, From Cesar’s throne in sudden vengeance hurl’d, Survives my fair one these one glance to give ? Scarce sensible of life, myself I live.*

Lo I

• Non aliter stupui, quam qui Jovis ignibus ictus

Vivit, et est vitas nescius ipsc fuss.

Trist. Lib. I. Eleg. 3.. Lo ! fields with Flora’s breath for ever green, And Tiber’s heav’n-lov’d flood, and ikies serene, The world’s just victors, and sublime abodes, With tow’ring fanes, and animated gods;

See ! happiness endearing ev’ry home, Add lavissi plenty, and you picture Rome. Then view a frozen, desolated shore, Where at the ssiipwreck’d hungry tigers roar, Where ikies are marble, and where billows wound, And wooden slirines, and earthen gods are found; A moment’s happiness where none can trust, For home’s a prey to ev’ry plund’rer’s lust : In cheerless gloom combine each shade of woe, Ah ! pity Ovid, when you Tomos know.

Fancy, keen engineer of mental pain !

Wakes smiling love, and bids you charm again. Soft blustres in the mimic beauty rife,

The graces speak, and sparkle in your eyes. Consenting passions through our bosoms run, Or rather they are all abforb’d in one. Short the illusion ! deep-involving night The heav’n-resembling vision puts to flight: Fatal as calms upon the faithless main, A pleasing prelude to a solemn strain ! Like fav’rite songs, recurring with a sigh, Which charm’d us when the now-lost friend was by, I whisper to the sea and silent shore

Julia, a note of ecstasy no more !

i

Once,

OVID to JULIA

Once light as birds that wing your vernal breeze, The tuneful muses have forgot to please. Nor wonder, Phœbus’ self o’ercome with grief, In vain from his own lyre explor’d relief: So far could love o’er heav’nly pow’r prevail! Eurotas’ laurels learn’d the moving tale.

Those arts that soften and refine the mind, Make ev’ry pang an easier entrance find. Orpheus, when his fair wife was fnatch’d below, Applied his skill to renovate his woe.

So the robb’d nightingale forsakes the throng, And to the list’ning woods repeats her wrong. Lost, lov’d Eurydice inspir’d his lay, All gloomy night, and through the cheerful day. Nor will I fay, that guiltless wears my time From poetry, my worst imputed crime ! The stag retraces still the flow’ry grounds, Where first he writh’d beneath the hunter’s wounds But, like the Thracian in the sliades of hell, Around me owls and bellowing monsters dwell. Spoil’d by barbarians, my degen’rate style Will half awake my lovely pupil’s smile.

The ruffled stream that roaring left the hill, Sports in the vale, and glides a peaceful rill; The gloomy cloud at night in tempest roll’d, Serenes at dawn, and skirts itself with gold; The sun, obscur’d behind the lunar shade, Emerges hymeneally array’d.

When

E

*5 4« OVIDtoJULIA,

When first I came to this detested shore, An oak arose, that branching honours bore; Beyond the height a soaring eaglet flies, Its head was lost within the vaulted ikies. Shall e’er, I thought, this haughty tree descend, To kiss the plain, as humble willows bend ) This haughty tree has stoop’d to kiss the plain, Conspiring winds have rent its ancient reignWithin the windings of a leafless wood, A marble fragment, charg’d with sculpture, stood.. Shall e’er, I thought, this boldly-featur’d face To level indistinction yield the place ?

This boldly-featur’d face has left the stone, Thus lightning made its forceful mission known.. Though such the prevalence of changeful time,. What years can reconcile me to this clime ? Or what disaster from my soul erase

Those smiling eyes, and that love-kindling face ?

The wolf, the lion, and the prowling bear, Though lawless in their rage, their offspring spare,. Then ssiall not great Augustus, wife and mild, Relenting view, the boast of Rome !. his child ? The fates, I know, have fix’d my hopeless doom. To breathe in sighs, with wislles to consume.. In vain the year restores my natal morn;

For to what purpose was the wretched born? *

The

• Ecce fupervacuus (quid enim suit utile gigni r)

Ad sua natalis tempora nostei adest. Trist. Lib.

III. Ele*. H

OVID to JULIA

The drooping plant, though lately counted dead, With bright Aurora lifts her cheerful head. The jaded steed, that breathless reach’d the goal, Pants high next day with more exulting foul. Tis Virgil’s to receive increasing praise,

Mine by new tempests to count weary days. Or, the news borne by an officious gale, I hear my enemies at court prevail.

My only festivals are those that land A Greek, or Roman sailor on our strand. Of you I aik, the nearest that I dare, How Cesar triumphs ? who his graces share J No birth-day altars here I can perfume, Where hourly pale despair erects my tomb. Whene’er to all my woes I bid adieu _ When my last thoughts are fore’d from love and you; If any of my works escape the pyre,

My exile’s cause should curious minds inquire, To spread my stiff’rings, and your honour save, Let this inscription flourish o’er my grave : *’ Warn’d by my sate, to spoil the public shun, Ovid, a poet, by his wit undone !

Yet if love ever revel’d in your breast,

Wish that his poor remains may lightly rest !”

THE.

B %

The RELAPSE;

AN ELEGY.

vjNCE, free from passion, it was mine to rove. With happy innocence, and laugh at love;

In ev’ry change then nature gave delight, Beauteous the morn, and grateful was the night. When verdant spring the blooming year renew’d,. And wak’d the tuneful tenants of the wood, Along the smiling fields I lov’d to stray,

And meditate my cheerful rural lay.

How oft, when summer heats the plain have fir’d, While herds to pools, and flocks to shades retired, Nor fann’d the pinions of the fun-burnt wind, Beneath a thick embowering gloom reclin’d, LulPd by the murmurs of a bubbling stream,. Have I indulg’d th’ enthusiastic dream ?

When vats autumnal purple currents died,. By the rich clusters of the grape supplied, I joy’d to mingle with the mirthful throng, And join the chorus of the dancers’ song.

When winter crown’d with snow each mountain’s head, Despoil’d the fields, and laid their beauties dead* Arm’d with my gun, I took the level true, And scatter’d fate among the feather’d crew. The seasons thus afforded constant bliss, While health saluted me with balmy kiss.

But soon as Delia on the plain appear’d.

No more these scenes were to my heart endear’d; With love of her I glow’d, and her alone, My jocund flute assum’d a plaintive tone;The wanton Archer cried, “ now keep at home, M Nor longer think in my contempt to roam.”— In vain were dragg’d, to move th’ unpitying fair_ My nights in sorrow, and my days in prayer _ Twas her delight, in mischief unconfin’d,. To point her dang’rous charms at human kind.. Triumphant slie made other bosoms groan. Secure, unfeeling, still remain’d her own. Who iaw Aurora’s cheek than her’s less warm, And thought a savage heart inspir’d so fair a form But though it cost me many a tearful care,. Though many a sigh I heav’d in deep despair, When still the newest face was most carest, I tore the bright enchantment from my breast p In rage abandon’d her, renoune’d her kind,

And fear and hope deliver’d to the wind.

Yet, Myra’s charms now darting through my veins,. The fire, that feem’d supprest, more proudly reigns. Scarce has her dazzling energy begun,

But, Persian-like, I must adore this sun»

The RELAPSE.

Against love’s folly I’d in vain declaim, By my fond wish allur’d, I feed the flame; With hope’s ideal flow’rets strew my way, And as before let empty smiles betray. Yet why, ungrateful! do I call them so ? Can virtue more, ere Hymen wills, bestow? I start unhurt, of shadows am afraid; By Delia’s merits must the sox be weigh’d ? ‘Twere cowardly, from her whom I admire, A voluntary exile to retire.

Those only merit life, who nobly run The formidable risk to be undone. But should the fair exalt me to her arms, What an elysium of encircling charms! So, yet unikilful in the swimming art, A youth who finds, in some sequester’d part, A ihaded river, whose transparent streams Invite to bathe, and cool his feverish limbs _ Trembling awhile beside the margin stands, Then, stooping, bears his weight upon his hands As gently down the slielving side he flips, But backward draws, as quickly as he dips His feet into the tide : till view’d once more, The smiling beauties of the watry store, Boldly he plunges in the friendly waves, Triumphant wantons, and with pleasure laves.

THE

THE

REJECTED SHEPHERD;

A PASTORAL.

THE SEASOW SUMMER; THE SCENE IN A GROVE IN THE COUNTY OF

WICKLOW l»

IRELAND; THE TIME STAR-RISING.

O IN C E Pope suspends thy raviih’d ear no more.

Muse, wilt thou warble on Ierne’s shore? And, leaving wretches in pursuit of gain,

Forsake the city for the humble plain?

Nor England only sports in hills and vales* Ierne too may boast her mounts and dales,

Here opening meadow, there embow’ring glade*

Delightful interchange of light and shade !

Young shepherds arbor’d in each blooming grove,

Who mourn no cruelty, but that of love.

The fun, bright solacer of human eyes f

Had streak’d the clouds, and funk in western ikies,

When Thyrsis, from his folded sheep, retir’d Deep in a wood, with hopeless passion fir’d; There he invok’d the rocks and streams in vain,

The scornful nymph exulted in his pain.

Indulgently awhile, ye waters, flow

Softly along, and listen to my woe i

The REJECTED SHEPHERD

Then tell that never, as you murmur by, A lover here so wretched lay as I. Ye gentle swains, who pipe by Liffy’s stream, While rural happiness supplies the theme, Avoid my melancholy path, nor rove Within the compass of this gloomy grove ! Amid the trees no cheerful notes arise, The gales are all infected with my sighs. I was not thus, ere love’s tormenting smart My days had darken’d, and consum’d my heart. Like you I rose, as light as springing air, ‘Twas all my joy to tend my fleecy care. When evening came, none brisker could advance On the soft green to mingle in the dance. Ah! fatal sport, from haughty Doris’ eye There I receiv’d the wounds by which I die. Yet why should ssie my humble lineage scorn ? The virtuous surely are the nobly born ? Let her inquire, though I no grandeur claim, All own my race is of unsullied same;

And, if no treasures in my coffers glow, My blood may purer than this Ægon’s flow. Ægon, perhaps for theft his country fled, To humbler views, a wretched menial, bred, Now on a sudden wise and titled grown, He bribes her faith with riches not his own. Yet what, fair damsel, are the toys of wealth, To heav’nly innocence and lovely health ?

3

Kings

The REJECTED SHEPHERD.

Kings you may find, if you in verse will look, Less happy than the master of a crook. Access to them is by their soldiers barr’d, But virtue is the swain’s more faithful guard. Your father, never vex’d by golden strife, Still prizes the contented shepherd’s life. Then sliine the wonder of your native land, Why should you sigh for England’s noxious strand? Here smile the fields with flow’rs, to bathe the limbs, Or quench the thirst, here flow refreshing streams, Here wave green woods, here I could wish to stay, Till with old age we both consum’d away. * Oh ! would you live in rural scenes with me, To please you, I would climb the loftiest tree, Thence fondly gather you the choicest fruit, From fairest flow’rets, with a garland suit,

The bee despoiling, smile at your alarms,

Then own more fair and sweeter were your charms.. Ah! Thyrsis, Thyrsis, madly you advise,

Doris the gift and giver would despise.

Yet would she deign a shepherd’s reed to hear, Her Ægon’s flute kfs tuneful might appear. And sure no prize e’er grae’d his squeaking song, Though I have one, awarded by the throng; A cup where dancing swains and maids are seen, While one, I think, resembles Doris’ mien.

• Hie gelidi fontes, hie mollia prata, Lycori:

Hie nemus, hie ipso tecum consumerer ævo.

Eel. X

VlRG

F I who beheld my sportive lambkins graze, Myself delighted with my warbled lays; Alone to woods and mountains now complain, Nor they, nor purling riv’lets ease my pain. Though scorching fevers some kind herbs remove, What is a remedy for slighted love?

Too well instructed by this rankling smart, I know the tyrant that hath pierc’d my heart. O Love! more stormy than th’ Iernian sea, Wild Hecla rages not compar’d with thee, Thy cruel joy springs from thy subjects pains, Nor is it human blood that fills thy veins. Fondly Hibernians glory, that they share Unharming fountains, and a purer air, Where poisons die, and where no serpent roves, The serpent Doris poison’d all our groves. Fly, loveliest maid! from thy despairing swain, Fly to the bosom of the.faithless main.

Launch quick thy ship upon the glassy way, May gentlest gales within the canvass play ! But, ere the fading light of Phosphor’s beam, My breathless corse shall float upon the stream. Then you may view with unrelenting pride, One who admir’d, unpitkd, lov’d and died.

Thus sung the youth, with unavailing moan, While in the iky the golden planets shone; Till Philomel, upon the thorny spray,

Almost forgot her melancholy lay.

The WREATH;

A PASTORAL BALLAD.

I.

"XlE! shepherd, ingloriouily laid,

"Like an insect that chirps in the grafs, "Your songs are indulg’d in the shade,

’. While a garland you twine for your lass.

II.

"Vain garland ! that fades in a day,

«’ Cull’d with care, and accepted with pride, "War’s laurels are lasting as gay,

” And Britain bids arm on her side.”

III.

Thus the swains who repine at the smile

That Phillis bestows on my song,

With prospects more bright would beguile, To prove my employment is wrong.

IV.

Let the soldier preferment pursue,

And boast of the scars in his face;

Phillis’ frowns are the foes I subdue,

My triumph shall be her embrace.

V. What

F 2

V.

What modesty blooms in he,r looks !

What mildness is heard from her tongue !

Not flow’rets so fair by the brooks;

Not bird-notes so sweetly are sung.

VL.

Like the sun, Tis her fortune to shine,

From the blessing I would not exclude 5

Though the pulse of her bosom is mine,

She’s obliging to all but the rude. / __**_’..

VII.

Her hair more than ebon I prize,

Her neck vies with that of the dove,.

Her wit is as bright as her eyes,

Her goodness as pure as my love.

t: VIII.

When the day his dominion resigns.

Mad ambition may haunt others’ hours;

Still by innocence lull’d, she reclines,

Rosy hope strews the morrow with flow’rs

IX.

If the noble such manners disclaim,

When the head of the mourner slre’d raise, ■mT 1 t 1 • SI A. ‘ Vet her cheek is a stranger to shame,

But slie blushes to hear of her praise.

X

To fair Phillis I constancy vow,

All my songs with her name I repeat; The wreath sliall adorn her gay brow,

And this verse I will lay at her feet.

SPRING;

A

DESCRIPTIVE POEM,

FROM THE FRENCH OF

MONSIEUR ST. LAMBERT,

Ver novum, ver jam canomm, vere natus orbis est, Vere concordant amores, vere nubent alites, Et nemus comara resolvit de maritis imbribus.

ClTULlVS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE following Poem, deservedly admired in the original, is translated from the French of Monsieur St. Lambert, as a specimen of his elegant pictures of the Seasons. But as the masterly hand of Mr. Thomson in this style is so generally known and applauded, it may be necessary to premise an Apology for the similarity of the present attempt. It is not doubted that, on the strictest comparison, each writer will be acknowledged an absolute original; and to limit the pen of genius on so copious a subject as the periodical revolutions in the natural world, appears an assuming prejudice. Indeed rural descriptive poetry may in all cases risk the charge of triteness, as its scenes must ever be drawn from one of those remarkable changes in the state of the air and vegetation. Let the Taste, the lively Sensibility, and the moral Sentiment of the Author speak in his favour with merit-exalting Candour. And should frozen Bigotry think any part too animated, that virgin Daughter of Innocence and Good-nature will confess that the Sacrifices of Love at the altar of Virtue can never be described in too glowing colours.

SPRING

SPRING.

ARGUMENT.

The Proposition of the subject—Address to the Deity—Dedication of the Poem

—A piilure of the face of Nature in our climate at the vernal Equinox—

The return of fine weather brings back the birds, the boisterous winds subside,

and the dangers of Navigation cease—The influence of Spring on the animal

creation and on Man—The birth of flowers—A shower in May—A piilure

of the country after rain—The rapturous sensations of Hope are inspired by

the appearance of Spring; but less excited in gardens laid out by the rules of

art—Variety, a charming attribute of thisfeafon, wanting in gardens where

refinement prevails—Description of a garden at once useful and pleasant—

Spring is the restorer of health—Pitlure of a fine morning enjoyed on reco very from sickness—The country most beautiful in the glory of Spring—A

train of delightful sensations—The {harms of nature in Spring frequently

clouded with the horrors of IVar—The dominion of Love over Man as

well as the lower order of animals—Several of the Earth’s produilions

approach to maturity.

JL SING the Seasons, and the Sun’s career, Whose friendly rays diversify the year. Beauty and grace he bids the Spring adorn, And crowns fair Summer’s reign with waving corn, Calls forth the vintagers to Autumn’s spoil, And glads, in Winter, cities with their toil.

O Thou, whose bounty fills the round of space, Whose suns illume beyond where art can trace,

Whose

I

SPRING.

Whose wisdom sways, as ‘tis for ever hurl’d Along the mighty void, each floating world; Kins: of the elements! and Lord of fate ! Who will’d, and time and order took their date; Thy love paternal watches for our good, By man, ingrate ! too little understood; Who oft abuses, or contemns each boon, Which thou hast lavissied beneath the moon; Fain would I shew their riches, fain would trace Th’ allotted pleasures to, our erring race, Each vicious prospect from the mind remove, Paint nature’s charms, and win them to approve. Spirit diffus’d ! above Our loftiest praise, Accept this homage, and inspire my lays.

And thou, who hast endear’d this vital air, Doris, my love, sweet soother of all care, Whose taste, in rural life, can beauties glean, For fields forsake awhile the courtly scene, The arts your pride, the world that you delight, To lonely vales fee smiling Spring invite J

How happy I, beside you sit, to sing

The gists, the joys, the flow’rs, the loves of Spring

As yet th’ impending storm the trav’ler dreads,

The baleful south that mutters o’er our heads, From fiery Lybia scatters in the air,

Sulphur that mingles with the nitre there; Which, as he drives the floating cloudy train,Show’rs in hoar frost upon each hill and plain.

footnote:[Possible signature: “40”] The flaky snow, the mountain’s silv’ry crown, Thaw’d into torrents, rolls the vallies down; And shatter’d ice upon the river swims, That scorns its native channel’s narrow brims. Neptune has curl’d the wat’ry surface o’er; The big sea tumbles on the trembling shore, Breaking at each new swell, the billows sound, And mountains nod, as groans the vast profound. Beneath the horrors of the scowling sky,

Boreas and Zephyrus for empire try; While the fad tenants of the wasted plain

Implore the heavens for Spring’s propitious reign.

The fable mists that barr’d Aurora’s way,

Yield by degrees to the victorious day.

Th’ exulting fun dispels the gloom, that veil’d His radiant disk, and azure ikies conceal’d. He paints the ocean; on the clouds he beams, The varied group of those suspended streams, As heap’d above, on ev’ry wind they fly, A glitt’ring chaos, chequer all the iky.

Soon as the shades withdraw their humid train, The watchful shepherd and laborious swain See blushing nature from her trance awake, And, basking in the sun, their hearths forsake. That, smiling, views the flow’ry painted mead, Where once again his sportive flocks may feed; While this beholds, in pleasing vision, rise The waving wheat, where Ceres’ treasure lies.

Progne

G Progne returns, and gratefully recalls

The thatch, her old abode, and native walls. The winged nations timidly prepare

Their magic journies through the pathless air; Bolder and bolder rise at ev’ry spring,

To hail the lamp of life, and soar, and sing.

The birds returning, let the seaman know,

Where Æolus invites, his bark may go. O, ye, whom fortune calls, now bear away To the bright portals of the orient day; Glad desert ocean with the crouding fleet, The lessen’d waves the ssiore in silence beat; For stars propitious smooth the friendly tide, And bid the boist’rous blasts in gales subside. Fly from Olinda to Golconda’s coast, From Yemen bring the vegetable boast, Whose subtile salt and od’rous vapour join*dt Revive the senses, and exalt the mind. Beneath the torrid and the frozen zone, Our arts, our pleasures, and our laws make known; Rouse the soft Indian to more lib’ral strife,

Charm the fierce Iroquois to polish’d life; The barb’rous smooth, inform the savage heart, Nor death, nor bonds, but happiness impart.

Bright king of day ! whose triumphs are survey’d From clime to clime, dispersing frost and shade, Zephyr attends thee, and, with verdant robe, Mildly encircles our exulting globe.

SPRING

From Niger’s borders, from those mountains high, Sources of Nile, once brother of the iky, From realm to realm, to rocks beneath the pole, Green is the colour that revives the soul.

Carpets of em’rald border silver-rills, Adorn the vallies, beautify the hills,

And crown the fragrant mountains, where the slieep. Cropping the tasteful thyme, delighted skip. The rich supplies of this new food advance

Their frolic spirit and ecstatic dance.

How jocundly with antic wiles they bound ! Protected by the dog who barks around; While the young shepherdess, beneath the sprays, The spindle turns, and tunes her rural lays.

While I have stray’d through fields by murm’ring rills. The vine once more hath shaded o’er the hills.

The creeping ivy soon shall twine around The oak and elm, in verdant friendsliip bound; The forest suddenly shall reassume

Its welcome depth of vegetable gloom.

In these harmonious sliades who would not rove ? Already Philomel has tun’d the grove.

Her charming strains in varied measures flow, Now sweetly swift, and now sublimely slow; Then silence reigns, till the triumphant note In melting quaver warbles from her throat. How oft I’ve listen’d, lur’d to leave the throng, Beneath her shade, when ceas’d the Syren’s song!

G a

SPRING

The genial season hath at length set free The captive sap of each reviving tree. Ere while condemn’d in torpor to congeal, It bursts a fountain from the branches’ peel; Spreads from the bud th’ infoliating green, Expands and elevates the bow’ry scene.. The forest harbours the retreating deer y No more I view the bird that charms my ear. The hue, that softly mingles light and shade, Nature’s new robe, o’er all her works display’d,. At once relieves me, and restores my sight, Dazzled by sudden Spring, and ikies too bright.

Dear hills and vales! ye happy fertile plains ! Where beauty, by soft funs invited, reigns; What secret transports in my bosom beat, When from the town I plunge in your retreat X After a storm, I seem arriv’d on shore, And could with gratitude the turf adore. From forms releas’d, I call the hours my own, Here blameless pleasures to my soul are known, Serenity and hope inspire my breast,

And that sweet consciousness of being blest, Which, in the whirl of lux’ries, arts, and sliow, The world’s allurements never could bestow. To charm her vot’ry, nature smiles around, And, without toil, here happiness is found.

Not mine alone; the nations on the wing With joy salute the gay return of Spring.

From ev’ry bough wild-warbling, Doris, hear

Their grateful tribute to the new-born year !

See the young husoandman with ardour fly

To rural toil, hope sparkling in his eye.

Content with winter’s interval of rest,

The wreath of labour animates his breast.

E’en pain has charms; if poverty he fears,

Base sloth more odious to his soul appears.

Let the luxurious loll their useless days, Secluded from the fun’s propitious rays, The lark, gay herald of the tuneful throng! That, undulating, leads their choral song,

Soon as Aurora blushes through the shade, Reminds him Ceres’ call must be obey’dLaughing, the formidable ox he tames, Whose bellowing his slavery proclaims. The shining share, beneath his hardy hand, Furrows the mellow surface of the land. For those dear animals he sows the soil, The constant partners of his gen’rous toil.. Along the glebe the ready harrow slides, And, till it shoots, the rich deposite hide3.. Where’er the thistle, or the tare he spies Obstruct the wheat, or wantonly arise, He calls his fond companion in each pain, Who soon assembles round her infant train. Marching before, his hoe the eldest brings, The playful suckling to its mother clings. •45

S P R I N G,

All join, ere yet Aurora drives her steeds, To free the corn from its encumb’ring weeds. The son, a novice in the parent’s trade, At random imitates, though proud to aid; And his unsteady hand, that guides the hoe,

Wounds the young plant which ssiould for Ceres grow. His brothers, who their time in labour keep,

Collect the flints, and pile them in a heap. Each grows important o’er the better’d soil, And shakes off infancy with manly toil.

The mother’s smile their vanity inspires,

Their zeal she thanks, their cheerfulness admires _ Her glist’ning eyes with rapture overflow, While they, like nature, work, and sport, and grow.

But now to time be due attention paid!

The charms of Spring, though crouded, quickly fade. Let us enjoy this crisis of delights,

The moments fly, and Flora’s call invites.

Crown’d with new rays, the princely Sun begins

To warm, in march oblique, the heav’nly Twins. Led by the Pleiades, he leaves the main,

And lustre lavishes on ev’ry plain;

He seems with pleasure to prolong his stay, And strews the verdant turf with flow’rets gay; He mingles, (to delight our wond’ring view) Varies, and vivifies each shifting hue.

Already on the meadow’s shooting bound,

The hawthorn bloom and budding rose are found. I’ve seen the daisy rival Ether’s blaze, Crested with gold, and darting silver rays. On loaded stalk, to Zephyr prone to yield, The yellow cowslip too has deck’d the field. Blest is the village-tenant more than kings, He wakes reviv’d, and sweetly shaded sings; For him the field her gayest mantle wears, With his fair partner he the pleasure shares. Delia consults the stream, what flow’r may best Perfume her hair, or ornament her breast. The wealth that Spring diffuses o’er the green, Is tribute paid to deck the rural queen.

Blow, lovely bloom, o’er all the fertile land, The orchards crown, and through the grOves expand; The senses charm, let youth be deck’d with you, And giving pleasure, promise riches too.

Thy beauteous progeny, bright king of day ! Destroy not, but thy gentlest beams display; Drain not our rivers; yet, from fost’ring ikies, Let show’rs refresliing fall in soft supplies !

Then, then, my Doris, Spring demands our view, Haste, let us give it the attention due.

The old, the young, before their dwellings, trace The vernal vapour in ethereal race.

Alas ! they fear’d the heats would scorch the bloom, And Autumn’s promise, while yet green, consume; That grass must wither on the blacken’d plain, And fpiry corn had rais’d its ear in vain i

But

3

But new emotions in their breasts arise,

As paleness dims the fun, and veils the ikies. Leaving the crimson east, that star’s fair light A vapour thin invested from the sight, Which rose aloft, possess’d the hemisphere, And darkness threaten’d, though no storm was near. The willow’s verdure spread a shade serene,,

The pliant reed to tremble was not seen, None yet had heard the howl predictive blow, The sheep desir’d not meadows to forego, The voice-offended bird’s melodious note, From bushes in the air was still afloat.

The cloud descends, and o’er the silent fields The gentle dew its genial treasure yields. Its fall upon our streams I cannot trace,

No doubling circles agitate their face; Scarce in the lonely wood I hear it sound, From leaf to leaf still dropping to the ground. Till close of day the grateful moisture glides, While freshness o’er th’ enliven’d fields presides.

The fun, though setting, gilds our favour’d coast, And skirts with rubies all the cloudy host.

The meadows glisten, and a circle bright, In humid air, would heav’n and earth unite; But soon the gaudy meteor fades away, The vapours falling with declining day.

Night, crown’d with stars, upon her faphire throne, Bids labour pause,, and sweet repose be known.

SPRING

The dying murmur of the stream and breeze, Is all that interrupts the solemn ease.

Lull’d by the sound, the peasant sinks to rest, The scenes of day imparadis’d his breast; Plenty he saw descend upon the plain, And flatt’ring dreams restore fair plenty’s reign. E’en slumber cannot check bold fancy’s scope: Such is the magic faculty of hope !

But what gay pictures with the day surprise ! What splendor ! fragrance ! swift transitions rise ! Emerging from its humid tube, the corn Salutes with greenish ear the dewy morn. The trees, the bushes, and the grafs supply A grateful contrast to the opening eye;

The trunks extend their boughs, and leaves display, ‘Mid snowy blossoms, breathing sweets on May.

How blest is man ! contented sliould he be, Admiring charms, still hoping joys to fee.

Hope visits, Doris, all our fields and groves, Frequents the hills, and through the orchard roves; With Spring returning, she would lure the sight, Where blooming meads spread prospects of delight; Her head is crown’d with grapes and nodding corn, She paints the beauties of the year unborn;

A recompense for toil on all bestows, For youth has pleasure, and for age repose.

I’ve found her in the verdure of the vale, On joys to come slre bids me to regale.

I sought

H

SPRING.

I sought her ‘mid the garden’s pride in vain,. Where endless stages glitt’ring pots sustain; In glass confin’d, where languishes and dies The steril offspring of exotic slues.

What range for hope’s sweet antedating pow’rs. Upon a theatre of fading flow’rs ?

The tulip, of its gaudy colours proud; By its own weight the weak narcissus bow’d, That seems its fleeting image to explore; The hyacinth whose bloom so soon is o’er, Frail monument of fond Apollo’s woe! For a rich field’s productions I’d forego.

Thus beauty, flaunting with her gaudiest ray, If useless, pleases but a sliort-liv’d day.

Beneath those linden trees, those elms that shoot Their stately branches destitute of fruit, I’ve long’d for orchards, where Pomona fhow’rs,. In Spring, the promise of Autumnal hours. By curious walls and ceilings compafs’d round, My restless spirit interruption found;

They seem’d design’d at once to check the scope Of busy sight,, and of excursive hope.

I mourn’d the rich extent the country yields, The harvests, woods, the vallies, and the fields, The hanging flocks that mountain-herbage crop, And curling vines that wanton to the top. Wife nature, to surprise us, and engage,

Varies the scen’ry on creation’s stage;

?*

SPRING

With barren ornaments, while we restrain The goddess to the limits of our brain; Order and symmetry a moment strike, And a day’s pleasure yields, for life, dislike.

That modest garden had more charms for me, Enrich’d by art, from ostentation free, WThere, ‘mid her presents, luxury and dress Seem’d nature’s pastime, and a wild excess. There Raimond rul’d, the plants were proud t’ obey, Happy he liv’d, nor wisti’d extended sway.

His mod’rate heritage six acres clos’d, A flanking hill each furious storm oppos’d, Which curving on a vale a curtain drew, Where luscious figs and tasteful melons grew. In free meanders over sand of gold,

A crystal rill its active waters roll’d,

That nourishment to kitchen-herbs supplied, And round the fruit-trees pour’d a murm’ring tide, Then swell’d a bason, where the willow’s shade, Friend of the streams! a canopy display’d, And sportive perch, in speckled beauty, gave A gilded chequer to the azure wave.

The sun, the stream, the shelter, all conspir’d T’enrich a spot for simple charms admir’d; E’en Raimond gaz’d with wonder ‘mid his toil, On the returns of the luxuriant soil.

The city’s tribute on the master pour’d,

And unbought viands grae’d his cheerful board.

H %

But Lindor, his delight, (as o’er the meads, In that blest age which infancy succeeds, He courted pleasure, new to his young breast) Saw a fair maid with bloom her head invest; An old man sitting near her on the green, Inhal’d the fragrance of a vale serene; While the gay nymph, presenting him with flow’rs,, Taught Lindor’s soul the force of beauty’s pow’rs. Returning home, his father’s rural reign

Was uninviting, rustically plain,

For flow’rs were wanting—Strait the beds display’d. The myrtle and the jess’mine’s blooming shade, Jonquils and fallads intermingled grew,

And bord’ring stocks along the path he threw; Mounting with strawb’ries, on the water’s side, The gaudy tulip rose in varied pride.

Lindor a nosegay, of these beauties form’d, Bears to the charmer who his bosom warm’d. Myrtilla deigns to visit, and to spoil

The spot made beauteous by her lover’s toil.. Yet new improvements urge his agile hand, The waves ascend and fall at his command, In frolic serpentines o’er pebbles play, Or sink through grottoes from the face of day. His magic talent for surprise is known, By shaping plants to figures not their own. The garden’s lux’ries flatter ev’ry sense, What odours, hues, and flavours they dispense ! Here pleasure reigns with sceptre unconfin’d.

All is enchantment to Myrtilla’s mind.

Lindor, with transport, her approval sees,

And finds that he himself has karn’d to please.

The world’s impertinence they soon perceive, And would for bow’rs and soft recesses leave.

They mark where woodbines and the creeping vine,

To form a still alcove, in friendship join,

That guards, beneath close boughs and blooms’ festoon,

Carpets of turf and flow’rs from scorching noon.

The happy spot more fertile, rich, and gay,

Beauty and usefulness in equal sway,

The old man labours with renew’d delight,

And sings down sadness till the sliades of night.

There the fond maid makes Lindor’s triumph known,

While to his father she conducts her own.

Beneath the hallow’d shade of fragrant bow’rs,

The happy parents led the nuptial hours.

Their children’s loves, the scene, and Spring’s bright charm1.,.

Recall’d soft hope, and guiltless youth’s alarms,

They felt their blood in warm meanders play,

And from their eye-balls flash’d health’s sprightly ray.

Youth’s charm, and beauty’s soul in ev’ry soil,

Companion gay of temperance and toil,

Health ! best of stores, that makes a peasant, king,

The base of virtue, yet our passions’ spring,

Thou, in whose absence, nature’s laughing train Of blooming pleasures bloom to please in vain,

ThyThy visit, with the year’s renewal fair,

Revives the dying, answers age’s pray’r.

Shall I forget ? that, when I languid lay,

Expecting death to end life’s little day,

When weaken’d nature struggled with that art,

At best uncertain, often fate’s dire dart,

Spring call’d me with a smile to life again,

I felt the spirits dance in ev’ry vein;

I sprung in transport from th’ unwelcome bed, While death, astonisli’d, from his victim fled;

I clafp’d those charming friends within my arms,

Who sooth’d my pains, and check’d my soul’s alarms;

I view’d my fruits, this stream, these groves once more,

Which late I thought no wislies could restore.

On our recovery, what raptures rise !

All things have charms for our admiring eyes.

No butterfly unnotic’d kifs’d the bloom,

I said, “ This insect too has scap’d the tomb, "Emerging from its cell, to rove it glows, "Nature, on both, a second birth bestows.”

On linden-blossom, rose, or flow’ry thyme.

If I beheld a bee for booty climb,

"After long exile, she returns,” I cried,

"To bask in suns, and cull the flow’ry pride;

*’ And I return, to reaffume my place,

"And link with beings in this endless space.”

I flew to bask beneath Aurora’s ray,

I flew to intercept the breaking day, I lbng’d to see, to prove my feeling pow’rs, To live, admire,, and thank for added hours. Doris, I danc’d, the moment that my sight, O’ercoming gradually the dazzling light, To place, late undiicern’d, gave distance due, And trac’d in order ev’ry pleasing hue.

In just succession, objects to dispose — The mountains first in majesty arose,

Compass’d with clouds appear’d their glitt’ring height The fun, emitting rays of quiver’d light,

9Ting’d the horizon, in its crimson round,. With living glories not in picture found. The beamy monarch, darting thence again, With golden net-work swept the verdant plain. O thou, who couldst sensation thus restore, By whom this little being thinks once more, March, and enlighten, let Spring lavish.’d find, The charms, the pleasures, present to my mind !

Thus, when Aurora had difpell’d the shade, The flaming east with transport I survey’d, Admir’d earth’s carpet, and the silver rills, And trembling pearls that dewy night distils On vallies blooming with the fragrant spray, Where falling beams with varied lustre play. The gales, that murmur’d in the neighb’ring bow’rs, From fields, from gardens, wafting od’rous pow’rs, A subtile flame through all life’s channels stole, Charm’d were my senses, and renew’d my soul.

SPRING,

Sudden I heard, of ev’ry diff’rent sound, From plains, from woods, an echo talk around; His tuneful pipe the shepherd breath’d again; Contented poverty poui’d forth her strain; On the gay hillocs frifk’d the bleating slaeep, The lowing oxen with an aukward leap; While sportive birds, that love in shades to rove, Tun’d with their melody the vocal grove; And not a stranger to the sweet employ, The humming insect buzz’d its little joy.

These sounds, which Zephyr wafted to my ear, The fields, the ikies, all nature’s face so clear, Appear’d to greet me on recover’d life

I breath’d to see a world devoid of strife; I join’d my voice with those enraptur’d throngs, That hail’d the dawn and season with new songs.

Th’ expanded joy, the tribes infpir’d to sing, Increas’d the beauties of the blooming Spring. Allied to all the happy in esteem,

Doris, I feem’d to copy the Supreme; Who, blest in viewing of his fav’rites blest, Partakes the transport of a mortal breast; A glance of love he sends through space’s round, And joys to see whole worlds with pleasure bound.

Here, Doris, ever let us fix our view, Behold, admire, enjoy—fate’s golden clue ! All beings are embellish’d by the Spring, Whatever walks, or soars upon the wing.

3

Whate’er Whate’er by turns quaffs dews and Sol’s bright ray, Perfection gains on beauty’s festive day.

The fun has enter’d Cancer’s genial sign, Serene and pure heav’n’s azure glories shine, And back reflect upon the realms of sight, The quick vibrations of triumphant light. Before in ocean sits this gorgeous fun, While now his journey’s better half is run, Beside the wood, let us, my Doris, gain That daisied tuft beneath theoak’s old reign; There hills on hills behold extended join, And the rich vales where curls the wanton vine. Mark ! in these fields and groves, how nature’s pow’r Breaks out spontaneous in each herb and flow’s. Art to control her noble bounty fails,

And her wild energy through all prevails. Behold ! this plain where all things good abound, The garden of the world, an Eden found,

Bacchus and Ceres hold divided sway, Vertumnus and Pomona deck each spray. A silv’ry show’r along the furrows, see ! Mild Zephyr scatter from each blossom’d tree. From poppies rubies o’er the meadows glow, And blue-bells saphires on the fields bestow. Here charming woodbines lead the stream astray, That, winding, loves beneath their shade to play. There plains and mountains, and the day’s bright pride, Assume new life, and tremble in the tide..

I

Can

SPRING.

Can there be, Doris, in this joyful day,

Groves void of grace, and fields that are not gay ? Can there exist, within fair nature’s round, A heart so dull with pleasure not to bound. For me, serene and blest beneath these bow’rs, Content with past, resign’d to coming hours, My senses feast on joys for ever new,

Which the young season still presents to view.

And is it, when the hours in charms excel, Kings raise the demon of the war from hell ? Yes, when mild Spring, by Zephyrs led, invites From flow’ry hills the train of soft delights, The voice of tyrants bids the slaught’ring blow Deluge the plain, and lay whole armies low. Their cruel slaves, the minions of their ire, From shores where pleasure breath’d and sweet desire, The deathful thunderbolt prepare to throw,

In turn to share the portion of the foe. There, set in life’s fair morn, a hero lies,

Whose blood the opening flow’rs with crimson dies;, Tow’rd that dear spot he turns his eyes in vain, Where love is doom’d of absence to complain;, The tears which at his death he knows will flow, More precious render life, embitter woe.

Here falls another, the support and guide Of infants, who have none to trust beside.

The day may come when they for alms shall bend, Through realms their sire was ardent to defend:

footnote:[Possible signature: “5*”] Yet fondness for them in his bosom elow’-d, For, as he died, their blessing he bestow’d.

Rage and destruction rush through all the files, In hills her victims ruthless discord piles, Whelms with one bolt the valiant warrior’s head; And coward’s trembling to the battle led,

The useful citizen who joy’d in toil,

And him whose horrid life was constant spoil. Ye legal ruffians ! hir’d to guard a throne, On brother-monsters make your vengeance known, Who brandish death, to glut a tyrant’s rage,

But do not innocence with arms engage. Why drive that harmless farmer o’er the plain, Where his own hands have rais’d the bearded grain Sure, drunk with blood, ambition must rejoice ! Can vict’ry’s trumpet stifle nature’s voice ?

?

O’er the thatch’d hamlet, which he sets on fire, One joys to see the curling smoke aspire. This, grim with dust, all dire with carnage-glare, Prophaning pleasure, menacing the fair,

Has seiz’d the trembling mother’s soul’s delight, And kill’d the lover in his mistress’ sight. While these are stripping, ‘mid the fray’s alarms, Their dying friends, who stretch embracing arms. O stain to manhood ! O infernal rage !— But peace attends a monarch just and sage,

The arts and sciences in poliih’d reign, Have banish’d Mars’s banners from the plain,

I 2

And

SPRING.

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And Spring, diffusing plenty, feels no dread, That war should rend the roses from her head.

Love! ‘tis for thee Spring all her beauties frames, Fill air, fill earth, fill ocean with thy flames. Sweet fruitful source of pleasure and of grace P Life’s basis! spring and foul of nature’s race!

Inspire, unite all things below, above, To make them happy only let them love. By sense of boundless joys impart thy pow’r, Earth wooes it, let thy presence grace this hour. Young, lovely, gay, thy favours she attends, With flowers adorn’d, thy shaded throne ascends. All music’s measures in the air prevail,

And from the mountains fill the echoing dale-. The crouding animals, in am’rous sport, Approach, recede, now combat, and then court; With souls renew’d they fondly sympathize, While pleasure’s ardor sparkles in their eyes.

The fiery courser scorns the biting rein, Lawless and fierce he bounds along the plain, From the high hill his eyes their wish pursue, And but one object in the void would view.

From vale to vale the heifer’s sowings fly, And the wild bull pursues her footsteps sliy; He tells his torment to the echoing shore, By the hoarse murmurs of his plantive roar.

Though cruel, wolves, that they to wolves are dear, Their horrid howl informs the sliepherd’s ear.

No heart so savage, Love, but thou canst tame, The tyrant of the forests owns thy flame. xMid burning sands, with mangled limbs around, He roars his ghastly loves in caves profound. His partner, warm’d by his tremendous fires, With direful yellings owns her wild desires. Their lengthens bellows air at distance shake, In dead of night the desert’s silence break; The dreadful couple in the gloom recline, And seem to threaten nature as they join.

The tiger, that against thee long rebel’d, And pleasure seem’d to scorn, as good compel’d, Too furious tender courtship to employ, Growling, caresses with a barb’rous joy.

But under roofs, in groves, or on the plain, Softer sensations warm the tuneful train; Assiduous round their mistresses they sing, With sparkling eye, and on a flutt’ring wing; They court returns in lays all art above, Pleasure inspire, and well may merit love.

The wanton dove, beneath the azure iky, Repels her fav’rite with disdainful eye; He spreads the beauties of his breast to view, And, ruffled, shifts their ever-trembling hue; Scorn shook the fibres of his am’rous heart, But one kind glance forbids him to depart.

The eagle, circled by Olympus’ rays, Enjoys his object in ethereal blaze.

SPRING.

Th’ impetuous, restless sparrow, all on fire, Wooes, and assails the fav’rite of desire.

The least severity prevents his stay, His pinions ruffle, and he flits away.

Delay consumes him; and the moment blest But wafts him on to pleasure unpossess’d.

The swan, with wings that spread a silver gleam, Furrows the surface of the heaving stream, To his fair bride he shews his charms, elate, With pride fails on, and floats in royal state.

See ! those fond turtles billing in the boughs, With endless kisses interchanging vows. Soft sounds and glowing murmurs still awake The bliss, the lover and belov’d partake. Toview each other is their dear employ, And all their life is love’s dissolving joy.

Sweet Philomel her lover’s warbling hears, And by endearments melted, she endears. Be silent notes of less harmonious things ! He fung to please, and now his pleasure sings.

An insect follows on the budding leaves Another, which the eye by art perceives; Live atoms mingle in the peopled air Whales and sea-monsters am’rous passions share, In aukward gambols spreading circles wide, Disturb the briny surface of the tide,

Spring from the bottom in pursuit, and bound Through yawning waves, and plunge in the profound

SPRING

Desire, enjoyment is the gen’ral plan, Esteem, love’s fairest fruit, is kept for man. ‘Tis true, he often creeps his passions’ slave, But sure a heart another heart will crave.

Love, in the birds, with vernal beauty thrives, But human love the transient Spring survives, Glows through each season, softens fortune’s strife, Adorns the morn and evening of our life. In childhood, struggling with confus’d desire,

Man knew to love, before he knew t’ admire.

/

Beauty from age still adoration gains, Blushing, he triumphs in her tender chains, With her forgetting his approaching doom, He strews with flow’rs the borders of the tomb,

But ‘tis in vig’rous youth’s delightful days That Love the fury of his fire displays. In those soft minutes when the flames of Spring Augment his ardor, and the senses sting, The flatt’ring image of recurring charms Still in the bosom beats with fresh alarms; One point the senses, and one pulse the heart, The rage for pleasure is a tort’ring dart.

Love, charming Love! the country is thy shrine There heav’n’s bright rays, example, passion join, With whisp’ring zephyrs, and exhaling flow’rs, And am’rous notes, to sceptre pleasure’s pow’rs. All sing, and feel, partake it, and impart—.— The orchards, hamlets, fields, and bow’rs of art,

j The winding thicket, and the gloomy dell, All, all disclose where happy love may dwell.

In childhood pleas’d through rural scenes to rove, The moss inviting to the fair alcove,

Here Hylas and Lycoris, smiling, toy, Their hearts unwounded by the quiver’d boy. The bee, imbibing nectar from the flow’rs, ‘Mid bloom and fragrance lives less charming hours; The am’rous butterfly, that roving goes,

Such frequent kisses gives not to the rose.

There, soft and timid, in a blooming wood,

Sylvander’s transports Chloe’s shame withstood. But coupling birds that bend the fragrant boughs, All nature’s children interchanging vows, That downy languor through the air imprest, With melting pleasure charm’d her yielding breast. Those tender blusties and those looks declin’d, Have quite bereft Sylvander of his mind.

Deaf to repulses weak and feeble cries, His lips devouring and his sparkling eyes From charm to charm with fond confusion stray, Where new endearments still invite the way.

These happy lovers, whom the virtues join, Whose sentiments approv’d and constant shine, Which freedom cannot lessen, nor the trace Of plund’ring time, that conquers all efface, Find love connubial with new charms endears, And often speak their happiness in tears. Rapt with the present, days to come resign’d, The mem’ry of the past delights the mind. Their gratitude in mutual praises starts, They only aik of Heav’n more tender hearts. Beneath the lamps in night’s blue dome difplay’d, By love conducted to a myrtle shade,

While warbling nightingales their songs extend, Their sighs, their kisses, and their beings blend. E’en when their passions in a calm subside, Life is not listless; virtue is their guide.

But these desires still kindling in the veins, These mutual ardors, and these am’rous chains, Exhausting life, the lamp of life renew, And other beings give the fun to view. I’ve seen the birds in couples through the grove, To form soft couches for their offspring rove. The mother sits upon the embrio-ihell, Till it begins to glow, and pant, and swell; Till all the prison-walls are rent away,

And the young chirper struggles into day.

Another love then springs the world to bless, Which hath its pleasures, transports, sweet excess. Parental fondness ! gen’rous, lively, pure, Protect all beings, grant them to endure ! Now let them be belov’d, that they may love, Fulfilling thus the dictate from above.

The first of pleasures gave them life’s dear pow’rs, Let the remembrance smooth their infant-hours.

K

The The weak assistance from the strong should ihare, These must return their debt of lavish’d care. A mother’s love from ev’ry harm will free Th’ imperfect souls beginning thus to be.

Ye sylvan youth, your mossy beds forego, With the wing’d people let your music flow; Range o’er the fields, invade each green recess, Enjoy your pleasures, nature’s charms possess. These fruits are yours, which Summer shall produce, Mellow in texture, and mature in juice.

Heaven’s love paternal food provides for all The happy tenants of the crouded ball.

TIBULLUS.

T I B U L L U S.

BOOK I. ELEGY XI.

X±E who first rais’d alarms with murd’ring steel, Had a proud heart that could not pity feel. Thence fiercer rage, and war, in pompous woe, Speeded our passage to the realms below. Yet, guiltless, he pursued destructive game, We our own species kill, and think it fame. From wealth contention sprung, war dealt no wound, When beachen cups the simple banquet crown’d: No town, or castle garrison’d was kept,

The ihepherd with his sheep securely slept. Why in those happy days was I not born, A stranger to the spear and strepent horn ? But dragg’d to camps, e’en now perhaps the £be Aims the pois’d jav’lin with the fatal blow. Ye household gods, the weapon turn away ! Who saw me, while an infant, round you play. Nor blush your worship some old stock inspires; So were ye rev’renced by my virtuous sires. When faith was sacred held, a god of wood, Ungaroish’d, in a little temple stood.

K 2

He He saw no smoke from bleeding victims rise, Grapes, or a wheaten crown, the sacrifice. Less learn’d in butchery, than ikill’d to bake, For favours gain’d the vot’ry brought a cake; While his fair daughter follow’d to the slirine With honey then an off’ring thought divine*. Ye household gods, again I rev’rent pray,

To turn the weapon’s baleful point away.. For this a well-fed tenant of the stye, A rustic victim! in the fane sliall die. Him I will follow, all array’d in whiter With osier baskets, no unpleasing sight ! Sweet myrtle with the osier twigs shall join, And round my head a myrtle garland twine.. Your smile I shall receive so let the brave, Favour’d by Mars, their way to glory pave, And with dire devastation glut the grave ! How pleas’d shall I the vet’ran’s story hear, Or see him mark with wine his bold career ! Me may fame’s passion never so devour, To speed by combat my funereal hour ! Death silently invades our short-spun lives,. Pursues our steps, and certainly arrives. No waving corn, no viny clusters glow, But Cerb’rus howls, and Charon toils below; While mangled, scorch’d, along the dreary lake, Wander a set of ghosts would make one quake.

How

T I B U L L U S.

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How happier he, who loiters on the stage,

Till the last glimm’rings of exhausted age !

The cottage is his kingdom, and his pride

The guard of hardy children at his side.

He tends the sheep along the flow’ry meads,

His elder son the sportive lambkins leads.

The homely partner, soother of his cares !

The frugal board, for his return, prepares, Let me in such a life, though hoary, gay,

Relating past adventures, wear away,

Peace smiling round me ! Peace first sow’d the ground And to the plough the honest heifer bound;

Peace o’er the blooming vineyard’s wealth presides, Peace furnishes the vats with purple tides; In the sire’s hogshead, when his course is run, Ferments the gen’rous liquor for his son. In peace the fork and ploughshare health supply, The helm and jav’lin in oblivion lie;

The fuddled rustic, from the sacred wood, Drives in a car his wife and infant brood. But am’rous quarrels vex the rural life This for her ravisli’d hair makes piteous strife; Her doors are broke, you hear the charmer swear, By the resentment of a blund’ring bear.

She weeps, and weeping is the culprit found, Cursing those hands which could such beauty wound. Cupid enjoys the sport, yet with his wiles, At length the wrangling parties reconciles.

” Whoever

T I B U L L U S.

"Whoever beats his wife, the brute must own "A heart more hard than iron or a stone.

"To such impiety who dares to rise,

"The gods themselves would tumble from the ikies. "Let jealous husoands be content to tear

*’ A handkerchief, or discompose the hair. "Some tears may well suffice; and happy he, "Whose spouse to weep will so submissive be ! *’ But he who deals in blows, why let him wield "A falchion, and support a moony shield. "Fair female forms let not his hands profane; "Venus their queen, and gentle is her reign.”

Auspicious peace! with wheaten garland crown’d, Exile contention, and avert each wound ! While I, thy poet, thy mild influence sing, Bring blushing fruits, delightful plenty bring !

A

SAP

A SAPPHIC,

In PRAISE of ROME, from ERINNA, the LESBIAN.

I.

1 HAIL thee, Rome, fair child of Mars !

From wars with gold and glory crown’d,

Matching in strength, and chiefs like stars,

Olympus’ round.

II.

To thee ! to thee ! the fates have giv’n

A sceptre that each foe defies; Like thy firm state, belov’d of Heav’n,

None e’er shall rise.

III.

O’er earth extends thy virtuous reign,

Vast ether is thy radiant dome,

Thine are the winds and billowy main,

Imperial Rome.

IV.

Time, checking hope’s excursive wings,

Whose scythe so fatally prevails,

To triumph still o’er mighty kings,

Impels thy fails.

V.

Thy sons are first in valiant deeds,

Thy camp and fields’ increase the same;

Ceres matures thy golden seeds,

Thy heroes fame..

FINIS.

In the Press, and speedily will be published,

(Being it’s FIRST APPEARANCE in ENGLISH)

R I N A L D O,

An EPIC POEM;

FROM THE ITALIAN OF

TORQUATO TASSO.