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Illustrious chiefs ! can I your haunts pass by, for them I ask pot, hostile to thy sway,
Nor give my long-lov'd liberty a sigh?

| Who calmly on a brother's vitals prey;
That heav'nly plant which long unblemishd | For them I plead not, who, in blood embru'd,
Dishonour'd only, only hurt by you ! (blew, Have ev'ry softer sentiment subdu'd.
Dishonour'd, when with harden'd front you claim
To deeds of darkness her diviner name !

For you grim Licence strove with hydra breath Yet, gentle power, thy absence I betail,
To spread the blasts of pestilence and death :

1 When seen the dank, dark regions of a jail; Here for poor rice, for dark ambition there,

When found alike in chains and night enclos'd, She scatter'd poison thro' the social air.

The thief detected, and the thief suppos'd !
Yet here, in vain-Oh, had her toil been vain,

Sure, the fair light and the salubrious air
Wheir with black wing she swept the western

Each yet-suspected prisoner might share.
When with low labour, and insidious art, (main ;

1 ---To lie, to languish in some dreary cell,
Sbe tore a daughter from her parent's heart!

Some loathed hold, where guilt and horrourdwell,
Oh, patriots, ever parriots out of place,

Ere yet the truth of seeining facts be tried,
Fair honour's foil, and liberty's disgrace !

Ere yet their country's sacred voice decide
With spleen I see your wild illusions spread

Britain, bebold thy citizens expos'd,
Thror the long region of a land misled ;

And blush to think the Gothic age unclos'd!
See commerce sink, see cultivation's charms
Lost in the rage of aparchy and arms !

And thou, O Ch m , once a nation's pride,
Borne on the brightest wave of glory's tide!

Oh, more than Goths, who yet decline to raze

That pest of James's puritanic days,
Hast thou the parent spurn'd, the erring child
With prospects vain to ruin's arms beguil'd ?

The savage law 'that barb'rously ordains
Hast thou the plans of dire defection prais'd

For female virtue lost a felon's pains !
For the poor pleasure of a statue rais'd ?

| Dooms the poor maiden, as her fate severe, Oh, patriots, ever patriots out of place,

To toil and chains a long-enduring year.
From Charles quite graceless, up to Grafton's

1 Th' unnatural monarch, to the sex unkind,

| An owl obscene, in learning's sunshine blind!
Where forty-five once mark'd the dirty door,

Councils of pathics, cabinets of tools,
And the chain'd knife ' invites the paltry whore ;

Benches of knaves, and parliaments of fools,
Tho' far, methinks, the choicest guests are fled,

| Fanatic fools, that, in those twilight times,
And Wilkes and Humphrey number'd with the

With.wild religion cloak'd the worst of crimes! dead,

Hope we from such a crew, in such a reign,
Wilkes, who in death would friendship’s vows

For equal laws, or policy humane?

Here, then, Justice! thy own power forbear; True to his cause, and dines with Humphrey

The sole protector of th' unpitied fair.

Tho' long entreat the ruthless overseer;
Where sculks each dark, where roams each

Tho' the loud vestry tease thy tortur'd ear;
desp'rate wight,

Tho' all to acts, to precedents appeal,
Owls of the day and vultures of the night,

Mute be thy pen, and vacant rest thy seal.
Shall we, O Knight, with cruel pains explore,

Yet shalt thou know, nor is the diff'rence nice,
Clear these low walks, and think the bus'ness

| The casual fall, from impudence of vice.

Abandon'd guilt by active laws restrain,
No-much, alas ! for you, for me remains,

But pause ..... if virtue's slightest spark re-
Where Justice sleeps, and Depredation reigns.

main. Wrapt in kind darkness, you no spleen betray,

Left to the shameless lash, the hardning jail,
When the gilt Nabob lacqueys all the way :

The fairest thoughts of modesty would fail.
Harmless to you his towers, his forests rise,

The down-cast eye, the tear that flows amain,
That swell with anguish my indignant eyes ;

As if to ask her innocence again ;
While in those towers raz'd villages I see,

The plaintive babe, that slumb'ring seem'd to lie
And tears of orphans watering every tree.

On her soft breast, and wakes at the heav'd sigh ; Are these moek-rains that invade my view ?

The cheek that wears the beauteous robe of These are the entrails of the poor Gentoo.

shame; That column's trophied base his bones supply; How loth they leave a gentle breast to blame! That lake the tears that swell'd his sable eye! I

Here, then, O Justice! thy own power for-
Let here, 0 Knight, their steps terrific steer

bear; -
Thy hue and erý, anid loose thy bloodhounds here. The sole protector of th' unpitied fair!

Oh, Merey I thron'd on His eternal breast,
Who breath'd the savage waters into rest;
By each soft pleasare that thy bosom smote,

When first creation started from his thought;

Warm from this heart while flows the faithful line. By each warm tear that melted o'er thine eye,

The meanest friend of beauty shall be mine, When on his works was written “ These must die;'

What Love, or Fame, or Furtune could bestow,
I secret slaughter yet, nor cruel war

The charm of praise, the ease of life, I owe
Have from these mortal regions forc'd thee far,

To beauty present, or to beauty fled,
Still to our follies, to our frailties blind,

To Hertford living, or Caernarvon dead,
Oh, stretch thy healing wings o'er human kind! |
'Chaird to the table, to prevent depredations.

17 Jac, c. 4.

the jo

To Tweedale's taste, to Edgecumbe's sense | Ere half her sons, o'er Asia's trembling coast serene,

Arm'd to revenge one woman's virtue lost; And (Envy spare this boast) to Britain's queen; Ere he, whom Circe sought to charm in vain, Kind to the lay that all unlabour'd fow'd, Follow'd wild fortune o'er the various main, What Fancy caught, where Nature's pencil | In youth's gay bloom he plied th' exulting oar, glow'd',

From Ithaca's white rocks to Sparta's shore : She saw the path to new, tho' humble fame, Free to Nerician gales - the vessel glides, Gave me her praise, and left me fools to blame. And wild Eurotas smoothes his warrior tides : Strong in their weakness are each woman's For am'rous Greece, when Love conducts the way, charms,

Beholds her waters, and her winds obey. Dread that endears, and softness that disarms. No object hers but Love's impression knows, The tim'rous eye retiring from applause, No wave that wanders, and no breeze that blows, And the mild air that fearfully withdraws, Her gioves, her mountains have his power conMarks of our power these humble graces prove,

fest, And, dash'd with pride, we deeper drink of love. And Zephyr sigb'd not but for Flora's breast.

Chief of those charms that hold the heart in 'Twas when his sighs in sweetest whispers At thy fair shrine, O Modesty, we fall. [thrall,

stray'd Not Cyn bia rising o'er the wat'ry way,

Far o'er Laconia's plains from Eva's ' shade! When on the dion wave falls her friendly ray; When soft-ey'd Spring resum'd his mantle gay, Not the pure ether of Æolian skies,

And lean'd luxurious on the breast of May, That drinks the day's first glories as they rise ; Love's genial banners young Ulysses bore Not all the tints from evening-clouds that break, From Ithaca's white rocks to Sparta's shore. Burn in the beauties of the virgin's cheek ;

With all that soothes the heart, that wins, or When o'er that cheek, undisciplin'd by art,

warms, The sweet suffusion rushes from the heart. All princely virtues, and all manly charms,

Yet the soft blush, untutor'd to control, All love can urge, or eloquence persuade, The glow that speaks the susceptible soul,

The future hero woo'd bis Spartan maid. Led by nice honour, and hy decent pride, Yet long he woo'd-in Sparta, slow to yield, The voice of ancient virtue taught to hide; Beauty, like valour, long maintain'd the field. Taught beauty's bloom the searching eye to shun, “No bloom so fair Messene's banks disclose, As early flowers blow fearful of the Sun.

No breath so pure o'er Tempe's bosom blows ; Far as the long records of time we trace • No smile so radiant throws the genial ray Still flow'd the veil o'er modiesty's fair face : Thro' the fair eye-lids of the op'ning day; The guard of beauty, in whose friendly shade, But deaf to vows with fondest passion prest, Safe froin each eye the featur'd sonl is laid, - Cold as the wave of Hebrus' wintry breast, The pensive thought that paler looks betray, Penelope regards her lover's pain, The tender grief that steals in tears away, And owns Ulysses eloquent in vain. The hopeless wish that prompts the frequent sigh " To vows that vainly waste their warmth is Bleeds in the blush, or melts upon the eye.

air, The man of faith thro' Gerar doom'J to stray, Insidious hopes that lead but to despair, A nation waiting his eventful way,

Affections lost, desires the heart must rue, His fortune's fair companion at his side,

And love, and Sparta's joyless plains, adieu ! 'The world his promise, Providence his guide ; I “ Yet sull this bosom shall one passion share, Once, more than virtue dar'd to value life, | Still shall my country find a father there. And call'd a sister whom he own'd a wife.

Ev'n now the children of my little reign Mistaken fatber of the faithful race,

Demand that father of the faithless main, Thy fears alone could purchase thy disgrace. Ev'n now, their prince solicitous to save, Go” to the fair, when conscious of the tale, Climb the tall cliff, and watch the changeful Said Gerar's prince, “thy husband is tby veil 2." |

wave. O ancient faith ! O virtue mourn'd in vain ! “But not for him their hopes or fears alone! When Hymen's aitar never held a stain;

They seek the promis'd partner of his throne; When his pure torch shed undiminish'd rays, For her their incense breathes, their altars blaze, And fires unholy died beneath the blaze! For her to Heaven the suppliant eye they raise. For fajih like this fair Greece was early known, | Ab! shall they kpow their prince implord in And claim'd the veil's first honours as her own.


Can my heart live beneath a nation's pain?” · The Fables of Flora.

There spoke the virtue that her soul admir'd, 2 Plato mentions two provinces in Persia, one | The Spartan soul, with patriot ardour fir'd. of which was called the Queen's Girdle, the olher “Enough!" she cried " Be mine to boast a the Queen's Veil, the revenues of which, 00

part doubt, were employed in purchasing those parts | Io him, who holds his country to bis heart, of her majesty's dress. It was about the middle Worth, hononr, faith, tbat fair affection gives, of the third century, that the eastern women, on And with that virtue, ev'ry virtue lives. 8)) taking the vow of virginity, assuined that reil which had before been worn by the Pagan 4 From the mountain Neritos in Ithaca, now priestesses, and which is used by the religious called Nericia. ainong the Romanists vow.

s The Spartan river, 3 “ He is the veil of tbine eyes to all that are 6 E merite d'Alberghe amore. -Tasso. with thee, and to all others."'-Gen. xx. 16. Vet. ? A mountain in Peloponnesus. Trans.

& Omnes omnium caritates, &c.-Cic.

Pleas'd that the nobler principles could move And taught the maids of Greece this sovereign His daughter's heart, and soften it to love,

lawIcarius own'd the auspices divine,

She most shall conquer, who shall most withWove the fair crown', and bless'd the holy

draw. shrine. But ah ! the dreaded parting hour to brave ! Then strong affection griev'd for what it gave.

VERSES IN MEMORY OF A LADY. Should he the comfort of his life's decline, His life's last charm to Ithaca resign?

WRITTEN AT SANDGATE Castle, 1768. Or, wand’ring with her to a distant shore, Behold Eurotas' long-lov'd banks no more? Nec tantum ingenio, quantum servire dolori. Expose his grey hairs to an alien sky,

PROPERT. Nor on his country's parent bosom die 10? “No, prince,” he cried ; “ for Sparta's hap- 1

his han. Let others boast the base and faithless pride, pier plain

No nuptial charm to known, or known, to bide, . Leave the lov'd honours of thy little reign.

With vain disguise from Nature's dictates part, The grateful change shall equal honours bring.

For the poor triumph of a vacant heart; -Lord of himself, a Spartan is a king.”

My verse the god of tender vows inspires, When thus the prince, with obvious grief

Dwells on my soul, and wakens all her fires, opprest,

Dear, silent partner of those happier hours, “ Canst thou not force the father from thy breast?

That pass'd in Hackthorn's vales, in Blagdon's Not without pain benold one child depart,

bowers ! Yet bid me tear a nation from my heart?

If yet thy gentle spirit wanders here, - Not for all Sparta's, all Euboea's plains"

| Borne by its virtues to no nobler sphere; He said, and to his coursers gave the reins.

If yet that pity which, of life possest, Still the fond sire pursues with suppliant voice;

Fill’d thy fair eye, and lighten'd thro' thy breast; 'Till, mov'd, the monarch yields her to her

If yet that teniler thought, that gen'rous care, choice.

The gloomy power of endless night may spare ; “ Tho' mine by vows, by fair affection mine,

| Oh! while my soul for thee, for thee complains, And holy trath, and auspices divine,

| Catch her warm sighs, and kiss her bleeding This suit let fair Penelope decide,


[breath, Reniain the daughter, or proceed the bride.".

Wild, wretched wish! Can pray'r with feeble O'er the quick blush her friendly mantle fell,

| Pierce the pale ear, the statu'd ear of death? And told him all that modesty could tell.

Let patience pray, let hope aspire to prayer ! No longer now the father's fondness strove

And leave me the strong language of despair ! With patriot virtue or acknowledg'd love,

Hence, ye vain painters of ingenious woe, But on the scene that parting sighs endear'd,

Ye Lytteltons, ye shining Petrarchs, go! Fair Modesty's" first honour'd fane he rear'd.

I hate the languor of your lenient strain, The daughter's form the pictur'd goddess | Your flow'ry grief, your impotence of pain. wore,

Oh ! had ye known what I have knowa, to The daughter's veil 12 before her blushes bore,


The searching flame, the agonies of lore! 9 The women of ancient Greece, at the mar

Oh! bad ye known how souls to souls impart riage ceremony, wore garlands of Aowers, pro

Their fire, or mix the life-props of the heart ! bably as emblems of purity, fertility, and beauty.

Not like the streams that down the mountain Thus Euripides,

side - al' ónas

Tunefully mourn, and sparkle as thy glide; £or xaritsevat' ónywis hucu, ás cyanovusrnuo Iru.

Not like the breeze, that sighs at ev'oing-bour,

On the soft bosom of some folding flower ; The modern Greek ladies wear these garlands in

Your stronger grief, in stronger accents borne, various forms, whenever they appear dressed;

Had sooth'd the breast with burning anguish and frequently adorn themselves thus for their own amusement, and when they do not expect to

The voice of seas, the winds that rouse the deep, be seen by any but their domestics.

Far-sounding floods that tear the mountain's Voyage Litteraire de la Grece.

steep; 10 The ancients esteemed this one of the

Each wild and melancholy blast that raves greatest misfortunes that could befall them. The

Round these dim towers, and smites the beating Trojans thought it the most lamentable circum


[breath, stance attending the loss of their pilot Palinurus,

This soothes my soul-Tis Nature's mournful that his body should lie in a foreign country,

'Tis Nature struggling in the arms of death! - Ignotâ, Palinure, jacebis arena.

See, the last aid of her expiring state, di Pausanias, who has recorded the story on See Lóve, e'en Love, has lent his darts to fate!' which this little poem is founded, tells us that this was the first temple erected to Modesty in Greece.

Iphig. in Taur. Act. iv., and Colut. Rapt. Helen. 12 See the Veil of Modesty in the Musum lib. i. v. 381, where Hermione tears ber goldCapitolinum, vol. i.; and for further proofs embroidered veil on the disappearance of Helen : of its high antiquity, see Hom. Odyss. lib. vi. - Aureum quoque rupit capitis tegmen, Claud. Epithal. Honor. where he says,

"The lady died in child-bed. Et crimes festina ligat, peplumque fuentem Allevat

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Ob! when beneath bis golden shafts I bled, Yet not within the hospitable hall
And vainly bound his trophies round my head: The cheerful sound of human voice I hear;
When crown'd with flowers, he led the rosy day, No piteous eye is near,
Liv'd to my eye, and drew my soul away To see me drooping on the lonely wall,
Could fear, could fancy, at that tender hour,
See the dim grave demand the muptial flower?
There, there bis wreathes dejected Hymen

And moyrn'd their bloom unfaded as he view'd,

| LITTLE bird, with bosom red, There each fair hope, each tenderness of life, Each nameless charm of soft obliging strife,

Welcome to my humble shed ! Delight, love, fancy, pleasure, genius fled,

Courtly domes of high degree

Have no room for thee and me; and the best passions of my soul lie dead;

Pride and pleasure's fickle throng All, all is there in cold oblivion laid,

Nothing mind an idle song.
But pale remembrance bending o'er a shade.

Daily near my table steal,
O come, ye softer sorrows, to my breast !
Ye lenient sighs, that slumber into rest! (wave,

While I pick my scanty meal.

Doubt not, little though there be,
Come, soothing dreams, your friendly pinions
We'll bear the fresh rose to yon honour'd grave;

But I'll cast a crumb to thee ;

Well rewarded, if I spý
For once this pain, this frantic pain forego,
And feel at last the laxury of woe !

Pleasure in thy glaucing eye ;

See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Ye holy suff'rers, that iu silence wait

Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
The last sad refuge of relieving fate!
That rest at eve beneath the cypress gloom,

Come, iny feather'd friend, again,

Well thou know'st the broken pane.
And sleep familiar on your future tomb;
With you I'll waste the slow-departing day,

Ask of me thy daily store ;

Go not bear Avaro's door; And wear with you th' uncolour'd hours away,

Once within bis iron hall, Oh! lead me to your cells, your lonely ailes,

Woeful end shall thee befall, Where resignation folds ber arms and smiles :

Savage!-He would soon divest Where holy faith unwearied vigils keeps, wards the urn where fair Constantia' sleeps:

Of its rosy plumes thy breast;

Then, with solitary joy,
There, let me there in sweet oblivion lie,
And calmly feel the tutor'd passions die.

Eat thee, bones and all, my boy!

O Nature! grateful for the gifts of mind,

Duteous I bend before thy holy shrine;
To other hands be Fortune's goods assign'd,
And thou, more bounteous, grant me only.

Bring gentlest Love, bring Fancy to my breast;

And if wild Genius, in his devious way, Would sometimes deigu to be my ev'ning guest,

Or near my lone shade not unkindly stray: I ask no more! for happier gists than these,

The suffrer, man, was never born to prore; But may my soul eternal slumbers seize,

If lost to Genius, Fancy, and to Lore!

The gentle pair that in these lonely shades,
Wand'ring, at eve or morn, I oft have seen,
Now, all in vain, I seek at eve or morn,
With drooping wing, forlorn,
Along the grove, along the daisied green.
For them I've warbled many a summer's day,
Till the light dews impearled all the plain,
And the glad shepherd shut his nightly fold;
Stories of love, and high adventures old
Were the dear subjects of my tuneful strain:

Ah! wbere is now the hope of all my lay?
Now they, perchance, that heard them all are

With them the meed of melody is Aed,
And fled with them the listning ear of praise.
Vainly I dreamt, that when the wint'ry sky
Scatter'd the white flood on the wasted plain,
When not one berry, not one leaf was nigh,
To sooth keen hunger's pain,
Vainly I dreamt my songs might not be vain.
That oft within the hospitable hall
Some scatter'd fragment haply I might find,
Some friendly érumb perchance for me design'd,
When seen despairing on the neighbouring wall.
Deluded bird, those hopes are now no more!
Dull Time bas blasted the departing year,
And Winter frowns severe,
Wrapping his wan limbs in bis mantle hoar;


Now cease your sweet pipes, shepherds! cease

your lays,
Ye warbling train, that fill the echoing groves
With your melodious love-notes! Die, ye winds,
That o'er Arcadian valleys blow! ye streams,
Ye garrulous old streams, suspend your course,
And listen to Menalcas.-

Come, fairest of the beauteous train that sport
On Ladon's flow'ry side, my Delia, come!
For thee thy shepherd, silent as he sits
Within the green wood, sighs: for thee prepares

See Spectator, No. 164.

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INSCRIPTIONS...MONODY...IMITATION OF WALLER. 459 The various wreathes in rain ; explores the | Ah me! my friend ! in happier hours I spread, shade

Like thee, the wild walk o'er the varied plain;
Where lowly lurks the violet blue, where droops, The fairest tribe of Flora's painted train,
In tender beauty, its fair spotted bells,

Each bolder shrub that grac'd her genial bed,
The cowslip: oft with plaintive voice he calls When old Sylvanus, by young wishes led,
The wakeful Echo-What are streams or flowers, Stole to her arms, of such fair offspring vain,
Or songs of blithe birds? What the blushing That bore their mother's beauties on their head.'

Like thee, irispir'd by love-'twas Delia's charras!
Young health, or music, or the voice of praise, 'Twas Delia's taste the new creation gave :
The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath For her my groves in plaintive sighs would
Of ev’ning gales, when Delia dwells afar ?

And call her absent to their master's arms.
She comes—Ye flowers, your fairest blooms un-


Ye waving groves, your plaintive sighs forbear, IN THE ISLAND OF sicily.

Breathe all your fragrance to the am'rous air,

Ye smiling shrubs whose heads are cloth'd with Sweet land of Muses! o'er whose favour'd

gold! plains

She comes, by truth, by fair affection led,
Ceres and Flora held alternate sway;

The long lov'd mistress of my faithful heart !
By Jove refresh'd with life-diffusing rains, The mistress of my soul, no more to part,
By Phæbus blest with ev'ry kinder ray!

And all my hopes and all my vows are sped.
O with what pride do I those times survey, Vain, vain delusions ! dreams for ever fed !
When Freedom, by her rustic minstrels led,

Ere twice the spring had wak'd the genial hour, Dancd on the green lawn many a summer's

The lovely parent bore one beauteous flower,

And droop'd her gentle head,
While pastoral Ease reclin'd her careless head. And sunk, for ever sunk, into her silent bed.
In these soft shades : ere yet that shepherd Aled. Friend of my genius! partner of my fate !
Whose music piere'd Earthair.and Heav'n and ! To equal sense of painful suffering born!

From whuse fond breast a lovely parent torn,
And call'd the ruthless tyrant of the dead

Bedew'd thy pale cheek with a tear so late
From the dark slumbers of bis iron cell.

Oh ! let us mindful of the short, short date,

That bears the spoil of human hopes away,
His car unfolding caught the magic spell :

Indulge sweet mem'ry of each happier day!
He felt the sounds glide softly through his! No, close, for ever close the iron gate

(tell; Of cold oblivion on that dreary cell, The sounds that deign'd of Love's sweet power to Where the pale shades of past enjoyments dwell, And, as they told, would point his golden And, pointing to their bleeding bosoms, say,

“ On life's disastrous hour what varied woes Fix'd was the god : nor power had he to part,

await !"
For the fair daughter of the sheaf-crown'd | Let scenes of softer, gentler kind,

Awake to fancy's soothing call,
Fair without pride, and lovely without art,

And milder ou the pensive inind,
Gather'd her wild flowers on the daisied green. The shadow'd thought of grief shall fall.
He saw, he sigh’d; and that unmelting breast, Oft as the slowly-closing day
Which arms the hand of death, the power of Draws her pale mantle from the dew-star's eye,
love confest.

What time the shepherd'scry

Leads from the pastur'd hills his flocks away,

Attentive to the tender lay

That steals from Philomela's breast,

Let us in musing silence stray,

Where Lee bebolds in mazes slow

His uncomplaining waters flow,

And all his whisp'ring shores invite the charms

of rest.
FRIEND of my genius! on whose natal hour,

Shone the same star, but shone with brighter

Oft as amidst thy Amwell's shades / stray, 10 sales of Penshurst, now so long unseen!
And mark thy true taste in each winding bower, | Forgot each shade secure, cach winding green ;
From my full eye why falls the tender shower, These lonely paths, what art hare I to tread,
While other thoughts than these fair scenes Where once young Love,the blind enthuisiast, led}

Yet if the genius of your conscious groves
Rear on my trembling mind, and melts its His Sidney in my Sacharissa loves;
powers away?

Let him with pride her cruel power unfold;
By him my pains let Evremond be told.

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