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| Dress, figure,splendour, charms of play, farewell, THE DUCHESS OF MAZARINE. And all the toilet's science to excel; ON HER RETIRING INTO A CONVENT.
E'en Love that ambush'd in this beauteous hair,
No more shall lie, like Indian archers, there. Ye holy cares that haunt these lonely cells,
Go, erring Love! for nobler objects given ! These scenes where salutary sadness dwells;
Go, beauteous hair, a sacrifice to Heaven ! Ye sighs that minute the slow wasting day,
Soon shall the veil these glowing features bide, Ye pale regrets that wear my life away;
At once the period of their power and pride ! O bid these passions for the world depart,
The helpless lover shall no more complain These wild desires, and vanities of heart,
Of vows unheard, or unrewarded pain; Hide every trace of vice, of follies past,
While calmly sleep in each untutor'd breast Aod yield to Heaven the victory at last.
My secret sorrow, and his sighs profest. To that the poor remains of life are due,
Go, flattering train! and, slaves to me Do "Tis Heaven that calls, and I the call pursue.
more, Lord of my life, my future cares are thine,
With the same sighs some happier fair adore ! My love, my duty greet thy holy shrine:
Your alter'd faith I blame uot, nor bewailNo more my heart to vainer bopes I gire,
And haply yet, (what woman is not frail ?) But live for thee, whose bounty bids me live.
Yet, haply, might I calmer minutes prore, The power that gave these little charms their | If he that loy'd me knew no other love! grace,
Yet were that ardour, which his breast is. His favours bounded, and confind their space;
spir'd, Soite of those charms shall time, with rude essay, | By charıns of more than mortal beauty fir'd; Tear from the cheek the transient rose away.
What nobler pride! could I to Heaven resign But the free mind, ten thousand ages past,
The zeal, the service that I boasted mine ! Its Maker's form, shall with its Maker last.
O, change your false desires, ye flattering train, Uncertain objects still our homes employ;
And love me pious, whom you lov'd profane ! Uncertain all that bears the name of joy! .
These long adieus with lovers doom'd to go, Of all that feel the injuries of fate
Or prove their merit, or my weakness show, Uncertain is the search, and short the date,
But Heaven, to such soft frailties less serere, Yet ev'n that boon what thousands wish to gain?
May spare the tribute of a female tear, That boon of death, the sad resource of pain !
May yield one tender moment to deplore Once on my path all Fortune's glory fell,
| Those gentle hearts that I must hold no more.
THE AMIABLE KING.
Tue free-born Muse her tribute rarely brings, Shine o'er my heart, and break its clouds away,
Or burns her incense to the power of kings!
But Virtue ever shall her voice cominand,
Is there a prince untainted with a throne,
That makes the interest of mankind bis own; Come, sacred hour, when wav'ring doubts | Whose bounty knows no bounds of time or place, shall cease!
Who nobly feels for all the human race : Come, hoły scenes of long repose and peace!
A prince that acts in reason's steady sphere, Yet shall my heart, to other interests true,
No slave to passion, and no dupe to fear; A moment balance 'lwixt the world and you ?
A breast where mild humanity resides, Of pensive nights, of long-reflecting days,
Where virtue dictates, and where wisdom guides; Be yours, at last, the triumph and the praise.
A mind that, stretch'd beyond the years of Great, gracious Master, whose unbounded
Explores the secret springs of taste and truth? Felt thro’ten thousand worlds, those worlds obey; These, these are virtues wbich the Muse shall Wilt thou for once thy awful glories shade,
sing; And deign t espouse the creature thou hast | And plant, for these, her laurels round a king! inade?
Piritannia's monarch ! this shall be thy praise ;
For this be crown'd with never-fad
O fatal ties for which such tears I've shed.
THE HAPPY VILLAGER.
There her hallow'd temples rise,
Grateful as the morning gale; Look on the past as time that stole away,
There, with humble Peace and her, And beg the blessing of a happier day.
Lives the happy villager; Ye gay saloons, ye gokien-vested halls,
There, the golden smiles of morn Scenes of high treats, and heart-bewitching balls! Brighter every field adorn;
There the Sun's declining ray
Paphian airs in ambush sleep Fairer paints the parting day :
On the still bosom of the deep; There the woodlark louder sings,
Paphian maids around her move, Zephyr moves on softer wings,
Keen-ey'd Hope, and Joy, and Love: Groves in greener honours rise,
Their rosy breasts a thousand Cupids lave, Purer azure spreads the skies;
And dip their wanton wings, and beat the buxom There the fountains clearer flow,
wave. Flowers in brighter beauty blow:
But mark, of more than vulgar mein, For, with Peace and Virtue, there
With regal grace and radiant eye, Lives the happy villager.
A form in youthful majesty! Distant still from Arden's vale
Britain, hail thy favour'd queen! Are the woes the bad bewail;
For her the conscious sea subsides; Distant fell Remorse, and Pain,
Old Ocean curbs his thund'ring tides, And Frenzy smiling o'er her chain !
O'er the glassy-bosom'd main Grief's quick pang, Despair's dead groan,
Venus leads her laughing train ; Are in Arden's vale unknown:
The Paphian maids move graceful by her side, For, with Peace and Virtue, there Lives the happy villager!
And o’er the buxom waves the rosy Cupids ride. In his hospitable cell,
Fly, ye fairy-footed hours ! Love, and Truth, and Freedom dwell;
Fly, with aromatic flowers ! And, with aspect mild and free,
Such as bath'd in orient dews, The graceful nymph, Simplicity.
Beauty's living glow diffuse; · Hail, ye liberal graces, hail !
Such as in Idalia's grove Natives all of Arden's vale:
Breathe the sweets, the soul of love! For, with Peace and Virtue, there
Come, genial god of chaste delight, Liyes the happy villager.
With wreathes of festive roses crown'd, And torch that burns with radiance bright,
And Jiberal robe that sweeps the ground ! HYMENEAL.
Bring the days of gulden joy, ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS PRESENT MAJESTY.
Pleasures pure, that never cloy! Awake, thou everlasting lyre!
Bring to Britain's happy pair,
All that's kind, and good, and fair! That once the migh!y Pindar strung, When wrapt with more than mortal fire,
George to thee devotes the day : The gods of Greece he sung! Awake!
lo! Hymen, haste away. Arrest the rapid foot of Tine again
Daughters of Jove! ye virgins sage, With liquid notes of joy, and pleasure's melting That wait on Camus' boary age; strain.
That oft bis winding vales along
Have smooth'd your silver-woven song; Crown'd with each beauteous flower that blows
O wake once more those lays subliine,
That live beyond the wrecks of time !
• To crown your Albion's boasted pair, Where numerous Aganippe flows;
The never-fading wreath prepare; From Thespian groves and fountains wild,
| While her rocks echo to this strain, Come, thou yellow-vested toy,
“ The friends of freedom and of Britain reign." · Redolent of youth and joy, Fair Urania's favour'd child' ! George to thee devotes the day :
"Tıs o'er, the pleasing prospect's o'er! Daughter of the genial main!
My weary heart can hope no more
Then welcome, wan Despair !
Approach with all thy dreadful train!
Wild Anguish, Discontent and Pain,
And thorny-pillow'd Care.
Gay Hope, and Ease, and Joy, and Rest,
Ali, all that charms the peaceful breast,
For ever I resign.
Let pale Anxiety instead,
That has not where to lay her head,
And lasting woe, be mine. And, vanquish’d, sunk, sunk down of Juno's fos- | It comes! I feel the painful woet'ring breast.
My eyes for Solyman will flow She comes, the conscious sea subsides;
in silent grief again; Old Ocean curbs his thund'ring tides:
Who, wand'ring o'er some mountain drear, Smooth the silken surface lies,
Now haply sheds the pensive tear, Where Venus' flow'ry chariot flies:
And calls on me in vain.
Perhaps, along the lonely shores,
He now the sea's blue breast explorez,
So lightly lie the turf on thee, Because thou lov'st simplicity.
To watch the distant sail ;
And life's last spirits fail.
That only death canst give!
And Solyman may live!
THE PASTORAL PART OF MILTON'S EPITAPHIUM DAMONIS, O For the soft lays of Himeria's maids! The strains that died in Arethusa's shades ; Tun'd to wild sorrow on her mournful shore. When Daphnis, Hylas, Bion breath'd no more! Thames' vocal wave shall ev'ry note prolong, And all his villas learn the Doric song.
How Thyrsis mourn'd his long lov'd Damon
TREE OF ROSEMARY,
To wander near this woodland bill,
If ever music smooth'd thy quill, Or pity wak'd thy gentle reed,
Repose beneath my humble tree,
If thou lov'st simplicity. Stranger, if thy lot has laid
In toilsome scenes of busy life,
Full sorely may'st thou rue the strife Of weary passions ill repaid.
In a garden live with ne,
If thou lov'st simpliciiy.
O'er the village maiden's grave,
That, one memorial sprig to save, Bore it from a sister's bier;
And, homeward walking, wept o'er me
The true tears of simplicity.
With care my slender stem she plac'd;
And fondly thus her grief embrac'd; And cherish'd sad remembrance dear :
For love sincere and friendship free
Are children of simplicity.
In white were all its maidens seen,
Ah death! what sacrifice to thee,
The ruins of simplicity.
A youth whose fond and faithful breast,
With many an artless sigh confess'd, In Nature's language, that he lov’d:
But, stranger, 'tis no tale to thee,
Unless thou lov'st simplicity.
And soon her rosy cheek was pale;
The village wept to hear the tale, When for both the slow bell tollid
Beneath yon flow'ry turf they lie,
The lovers of simplicity. Yet one boon have I to crave;
Stranger, if thy pity bleed,
Wilt thou do one tendor deed,
What sighs he atter'd, and what tears he shed
mourn'd. And go, he cry'd, my tender lambs, adieu! Your wretched master has no time for you.
Yet are there pow'rs divine in Earth or sky?
Then go, he cry'd, &c.
Then go, &c.
Then go, &c.
The social hearth when autumn's treasures store, i One gentle tear the British Chloris gave, Chill blow the winds without, and through the Chloris the grace of Maldou's purple wavebleak elm roar.
In vain-my grief no soothing words disarm, Then go, &e.
No future hopes, nor present good ean charm, When the fierce suns of summer noons invade,
Then go, &c. And Pan reposes in the green-wood shade, | The happier flocks one social spirit moves, The shepherds hide, the nymphs plunge down The same their sports, their pastures and their the deep,
So herd the various natives of the main,
And Proteus drives in crowds his scaly train; Alas! now lonely round my fields I stray,
The feather'd tribes too find an easier fate, And lonely seek the pasture's wonted way.
The meanest sparrow still enjoys his mate; Or in some diin vale's mournful shade repose
And when by chance or wearing age she dies, There pensive wait the weary day's slow close,
The transient loss a second choice supplies. While showers descend, the gloomy tempest
Man, hapless man, for ever doom'd to know
The dire vexations that from discord flow,
In all the countless numbers of his kind,
Can scarcely meet with one congenial mind;
If haply found, Death wings the fatal dart, Where once fair harvest cloth'd my cultur'd The tender union breaks, and breaks his heart, plain,
Then go, &c.
Ah me! what errour tempted me to go
O'er foreign mountains, and thro' Alpine snow? My flocks no longer find a master's care;
Too great the price to mark in Tyber's gloom Evin piteous as they gaze with looks of dumb
The mournful image of departed Rome! despair.
Nay, yet immortal, could she boast again
The glories of her universal reign,
And all that Maro left his fields to see,
To leave thee in a land no longer seen! No more shall fancy wave her rural dream, Bid mountains rise, and oceans roll between ! By Ægan's willow, or Amynta's stream,
Ah! not embrace thee!-not to see thee die! The trembling leaves, the fountains cool serene, Meet thy last looks, or close thy languid eye! The murmuring zephyr, and the mossy green- Not one fond farewell with thy shade to send, These smile unseen, and those unheeded play, Nor bid thee think of thy surviving friend I I cut my shrubs, and careless walk'd anay.
Then go, &c. . Then go, &c.
Ye Tuscan shepherds, pardon me this tear! Mopsus, who knows what fates the stars dis- Dear to the Muse, to me for ever dear! pense,
The youth I mourn a Tuscan title bore-
Where Arnowanders down bis flow'ry way, Some baleful planet, or some hopeless love? Pluck'd the pale violet, press'd the velvet mead, The star of Saturn oft annoys the swain,
Or bade the myrtle's balmy fragrance bleed !And in the dull cold breast long holds his leaden Delighted, heard amid the rural throng, reign.'
Menalcas strive with Lycidas in song.
Oft would my voice the mimic strain essay,
| Francino crown'd me with a poet's fame, Gay smiles and love on that soft season wait;
And Dati 3 taught his beechen grores my name, He's twice a wretch whom beauty wounds too late."
2 The Tuscans were a branch of the Pelasgi Then go, &c.
that migrated into Europe, not many ages after
the dispersion. Some of them marched by land 'Milton seems to have borrowed this senti- I colony under the conduct of Tyrsenys to Italy,
as far as Lydia, and from thence detached a ment from Guarini:
3 When Milton was in Italy, Carlo Dati was Che se t'assale a la canuta etate
professor of philosophy at Florence-a liberal Amoroso talento,
friend to men of genius and learning, as well Havrai doppio tormento,
foreigners as his own countrymen. He wrote a E di quel, che potendo non volesti,
panegyric and some poems on Lewis XIV, beE di quel, obe volendo non potrai,
sides other tracts.
TO A LADY,
ON READING AN ELEGT WRITIEN BY HER ON THE LAMB, could the Muse that boasts thy forming
SEARCH OF HAPPINESS. care,
To seek the lovely nympb you sing, Unfold the grateful feelings of my heart,
I've wander'd many a weary mile, Her hand for thee should many a wreath prepare, Froin grore to grove, from spring to spring;
And cull the choicest flowers with studious art. If here or there she deign'd to smile. For mark'd by thee was each imperfect ray
| Nay what I now must blush to say, That haply wander'd o'er my infant mind;
| For sure it hap'd in evil hour; The dawn of genius brighten'd into day,
I once so far mistook my way, As thy skill open'd, as thy lore refin'd.
To seek her in the haunts of power. Each uncouth lay that faulter'd from my tongue,
How should success my search betide,
When still so far I wander'd wrong?
Was list'ning to Maria's song.
Delighted thus with you to stay,
What hope have I the nymph to see ;
TO ALMENA. berant flame.
FROM THE BANKS OF THE IRWAN. O conld the Muse in future times obtain One humble garland from th’ Aonian tree !
“ WHERE trembling poplars shade their parent With joy I'd bind thy favour'd brows again,
vale, With joy I'd form a fairer wreath for thee.
And tune to melody the mountain gale;
Friend of my heart, behold thy poet laid
In the dear silence of bis native shade!
Ye sacred vales, whereof the Muse, unseen, FROM scenes where fancy no excursion tries,
Led my light steps along the moon-light green; Nor trusts her wing to smoke-envelop'd skies;
Ye scenes, where peace and fancy beld their Far from the town's detested haunts remov'd,
reign, And nought but thee deserted that I lov'd;
For ever lov'd, and once enjoy'd again! From noise and folly and the world got free,
Ah! where is now that nameless bliss refin'd, One truant thought yet only stays for thee.
That tranquil bour, that vacancy of mind? What is that world which makes the heart its
As sweet the wild rose bears its balmy breast; slave?
As soon the breeze with inurmurs sooths to rest; A restless sea, revolving wave on wave :
As smooth the stream of silver Irwan flows; There rage the storms of each uncertain clime: | As fair each flower along There float the wrecks of fortune and of time:
Yet dwells not here that nameless bliss refin'd, There hope's smooth gales in soft succession
That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind. blow,
Is it that knowledge is allied to woe; While disappointment hides the rock below.
And are we happy only e'er we know? The syren pleasures tune their fatal breath,
Is it that Hope withholds her golden ray, And lull you to the long repose of death.
That Fancy's fairy visions fade away? What is that world? ah!-'tis no more
Or can I, distant far froin all that's dear, Than the vext ocean while we walk the shore.
Be happy only when Almena's near? Loud roar the winds and swell the wild waves | That truth, the feelings high,
Too dear the friendship for the friend's repose." Lash the rude beach, and frighten all the sky; No longer shall my little bark be rent,
wild, Since Hope resign'd her anchor to Content. Like some poor fisher that, escap'd with life,
“ Child of my hopes," he fondly cried, "forWill trust no more to elemental strife;
Nor let thy Irwan witness thy despair. But sits in safety on the green-bank side,
Has peace indeed forsook my flow'ry shore! And lives upon the leavings of the tide ;
Shall Fame, and Hope, and Fancy cha Like him contented you your friend shall see,
more? As safe, as bappy, and as poor as he.
Tho' Fame and Hope in kindred air depart,
th, the feelings of my heart disclose:
Thus mourn'd the Muse, when thro' his osters
y charm no
Yet Fancy still should hold thee to her heart;
And rival fairies filled thy bed with flowers;