On glorious schemes and thoughts of empire dwell, Nor fears the hawker in her warbling note
And with imaginary titles swell.

To vend the discontented statesman's thought,
Though red with stripes, and recent from the thong
Sore smitten for the love of sacred song,
The tuneful sisters still pursue their trade,
Like Philomela darkling in the shade.
Poor Trott attends, forgetful of a fare,
And hums in concert o'er his easy chair.

Meanwhile, regardless of the royal cause,
His sword for James no brother sovereign draws.
The pope himself, surrounded with alarms,
To France his bulls, to Corfu sends his arms,
And though he hears his darling son's complaint,
Can hardly spare one tutelary saint,
But lists them all to guard his own abodes,
And into ready money coins his gods.

Ere to thy cause, and thee, my heart inclin'd,
Or love to party had seduc'd my mind,
In female joys I took a dull delight,
Slept all the morn, and punted half the night:
But now, with fears and public cares possest,
The church, the church, for ever breaks my rest.
The postboy on my pillow I explore,
And sift the news of every foreign shore,
Studious to find new friends, and new allies;
What armies march from Sweden in disguise;
How Spain prepares her banners to unfold,
And Rome deals out her blessings, and her gold:
Then o'er the map my finger, taught to stray,
Cross many a region marks the winding way;
From sea to sea, from realm to realm I rove,
And grow a mere geographer by love:
But still Avignon, and the pleasing coast
That holds thee banish'd, claims my care the most: Far from the call of his desponding friends.
Oft on the well-known spot I fix my eyes,
And span the distance that between us lies.

The dauntless Swede, pursued by vengeful foes,
Scarce keeps his own hereditary snows;
Nor must the friendly roof of kind Lorrain
With feasts regale our garter'd youth again.
Safe, Bar-le-Duc, within thy silent grove
The pheasant now may perch, the hare may rove.
The knight, who aims unerring from afar,
Th' adventurous knight, now quits the sylvan war:
Thy brinded boars may slumber undismay'd,
Or grunt secure beneath the chestnut shade.
Inconstant Orleans (still we mourn the day
That trusted Orleans with imperial sway)
Far o'er the Alps our helpless monarch sends,

Such are the terms, to gain Britannia's grace!
And such the terrors of the Brunswick race!

Let not our James, though foil'd in arms, despair,
Whilst on his side he reckons half the fair:
In Britain's lovely isle a shining throng
War in his cause, a thousand beauties strong.
Th' unthinking victors vainly boast their powers;
Be theirs the musket, while the tongue is ours.
We reason with such fluency and fire,
The beaux we baffle, and the learned tire,
Against her prelates plead the church's cause,
And from our judges vindicate the laws.
Then mourn not, hapless prince, thy kingdoms lost;
A crown, though late, thy sacred brows may boast;
Heaven seems through us thy empire to decree;
Those who win hearts, have given their hearts to thee.

Say, for thou know'st I own his sacred line,
The passive doctrine, and the right divine,
Say, what new succors does the chief prepare?
The strength of armies? or the force of prayer?
Does he from Heaven or Earth his hopes derive?
From saints departed, or from priests alive? [stand,
Nor saints nor priests can Brunswick's troops with-
And beads drop useless through the zealot's hand;
Heaven to our vows may future kingdoms owe,
But skill and courage win the crowns below.

Hast thou not heard that when, profusely gay,
Our well-drest rivals grac'd their sovereign's day,
We stubborn damsels met the public view
In lothesome wormwood, and repenting rue?
What Whig but trembled, when our spotless band
In virgin roses whiten'd half the land!
Who can forget what fears the foe possest,
When oaken-boughs mark'd every loyal breast!
Less scar'd than Medway's stream the Norman stood,
When cross the plain he spied a marching wood,
Till, near at hand, a gleam of swords betray'd
The youth of Kent beneath its wandering shade?
Those who the succors of the fair despise,
May find that we have nails as well as eyes.
Thy female bards, O prince by fortune crost,
At least more courage than thy men can boast:
Our sex has dar'd the mug-house chiefs to meet,
And purchas'd fame in many a well-fought street.
From Drury-Lane, the region of renown,
The land of love, the Paphos of the town,
Fair patriots sallying oft have put to flight
With all their poles the guardians of the night,
And bore, with screams of triumph, to their side
The leader's staff in all its painted pride.

Was it for this the Sun's whole lustre fail'd,
And sudden midnight o'er the Moon prevail'd!
For this did Heaven display to mortal eyes
Aerial knights and combats in the skies!
Was it for this Northumbrian streams look'd red!
And Thames driv'n backward show'd his secret bed
False auguries! th' insulting victor's scorn!
Ev'n our own prodigies against us turn!
O portents construed on our side in vain!
Let never Tory trust eclipse again!

Run clear, ye fountains! be at peace, ye skies!
And, Thames, henceforth to thy green borders rise!

To Rome then must the royal wanderer go,
And fall a suppliant at the papal toe?
His life in sloth inglorious must he wear,
One half in luxury, and one in prayer?
His mind perhaps at length debauch'd with ease,
The proffer'd purple and the hat may please.
Shall he, whose ancient patriarchal race
To mighty Nimrod in one line we trace,
In solemn conclave sit, devoid of thought,
And poll for points of faith his trusty vote!
Be summon'd to his stall in time of need,
And with his casting suffrage fix a creed!
Shall he in robes on stated days appear,
And English heretics curse once a year!
Garnet and Faux shall he with prayers invoke,
And beg that Smithfield piles once more may smoke!
Forbid it, Heaven! my soul, to fury wrought,
Turns almost Hanoverian at the thought.

From James and Rome I feel my heart decline,
And fear, O Brunswick, 'twill be wholly thine;
Yet still his share thy rival will contest,
And still the double claim divides my breast.
The fate of James with pitying eyes I view,
And wish my homage were not Brunswick's due:
To James my passion and my weakness guide,
But reason sways me to the victor's side.

JAMES HAMMOND.

JAMES HAMMOND, a popular elegiac poet, was the Elegies" were published soon after his death by second son of Anthony Hammond, Esq. of Somer- Lord Chesterfield, and have been several times sham place, in Huntingdonshire. He was born in reprinted. It will seem extraordinary that the no1710, and was educated in Westminster school, ble editor has only once mentioned the name of where at an early age he obtained the friendship of Tibullus, and has asserted that Hammond, sincere several persons of distinction, among whom were in his love, as in his friendship, spoke only the Lords Cobham, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton. He genuine sentiments of his heart, when there are so was appointed equerry to Frederic, Prince of Wales, many obvious imitations of the Roman poet, even and upon his interest was brought into parliament so far as the adoption of his names of Neera, Cynin 1741, for Truro in Cornwall. This was nearly thia, and Delia. It must, however, be acknowhe last stage of his life, for he died in June 1742, ledged, that he copies with the hand of a master, at the seat of Lord Cobham, at Stowe. An unfor- and that his imitations are generally managed with tunate passion for a young lady, Miss Dashwood, a grace that almost conceals their character. Still who was cold to his addresses, is thought to have as they are, in fact, poems of this class, however disordered his mind, and perhaps contributed to his skilfully transposed, we shall content ourselves with premature death. transcribing one which introduces the name of his principal patron with peculiarly happy effect.

Hammond was a man of an amiable character, and was much regretted by his friends. His "Love

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WILLIAM SOMERVILE.

WILLIAM SOMERVILE, an agreeable poet, was mind, and plunged him into habits which shortened born in 1692, at his father's seat at Edston, in War- his life. He died in 1742; and his friend Shenwickshire. He was educated at Winchester school, stone, with much feeling, announces the event to whence he was elected to New College, Oxford. one of his correspondents. Somervile passed his His political attachments were to the Whig party, life in celibacy, and made over the reversion of his as appeared from his praises of Marlborough, Stan- estate to Lord Somervile, a branch of the same hope, and Addison. To the latter of these he ad- family, charged with a jointure to his mother, then dressed a poem, in which there is the happy couplet in her 90th year. alluded to in the Spectator:

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As a poet, he is chiefly known by "The Chase," a piece in blank verse, which maintains a high When panting Virtue her last efforts made, rank in the didactic and descriptive classes. Being 'You brought your Clio to the Virgin's aid." composed by one who was perfectly conversant with "Clio" was known to be the mark by which Addi- the sports which are its subject, and entered into son distinguished his papers in that miscellany. them with enthusiasm, his pictures greatly surpass Somervile inherited a considerable paternal es- the draughts of the same kind which are attempted tate, on which he principally lived, acting as a by poets by profession. Another piece connected magistrate, and pursuing with ardor the amusements with this is entitled "Field Sports," but only deof a sportsman, varied with the studies of a man scribes that of hawking. In his "Hobbinol, or of letters. His mode of living, which was hospi-Rural Games," he attempts the burlesque with toltable, and addicted to conviviality, threw him into erable success. Of his other pieces, serious and pecuniary embarrassments, which preyed on his comic, there are few which add to his fame.

THE CHASE.

Book I.

Argument.

|THE Chase I sing, hounds, and their various breed,
And no less various use. O thou, great prince!
Whom Cambria's towering hills proclaim their lord,
Deign thou to hear my bold, instructive song.
While grateful citizens with pompous show,
Rear the triumphal arch, rich with th' exploits
Of thy illustrious house; while virgins pave
Thy way with flowers, and, as the royal youth
Passing they view, admire and sigh in vain;
While crowded theatres, too fondly proud

The subject proposed. Address to his royal high-
ness the prince. The origin of hunting. The
rude and unpolished manner of the first hunters.
Beasts at first hunted for food and sacrifice. The
grant made by God to man of the beasts, &c.
The regular manner of hunting first brought Of their exotic minstrels, and shrill pipes,
into this island by the Normans. The best hounds The price of manhood, hail thee with a song,
and best horses bred here. The advantage of And airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn
this exercise to us, as islanders. Address to gen- Invites thee to the Chase, the sport of kings;
tlemen of estates. Situation of the kennel and Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse
its several courts. The diversion and employ- Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care
ment of hounds in the kennel. The different Thy foaming courser o'er the steepy rock,
sorts of hounds for each different chase. De- Or on the river bank receive thee safe,
scription of a perfect hound. Of sizing and sort- Light-bounding o'er the wave, from shore to shore.
ing of hounds; the middle-sized hound recom- Be thou our great protector, gracious youth!
mended. Of the large deep-mouthed hound for And if, in future times, some envious prince,
hunting the stag and otter. Of the lime-hound; Careless of right, and guileful, should invade
their use on the borders of England and Scotland. Thy Britain's commerce, or should strive in vain
A physical account of scents. Of good and bad To wrest the balance from thy equal hand;
scenting days. A short admonition to my breth- Thy hunter-train, in cheerful green array'd,
ren of the couples.
(A band undaunted, and inur'd to toils)