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Thy furrows whiten'd by the woolly rain
Nutritious! secret nitre lurks within
The porous wet, quickening the languid glebe.
Sometimes thou shalt with fervent vows implore
A moderate wind: the orchat loves to wave
With winter winds, before the gems exert
Their feeble heads; the loosen'd roots then drink
Large increment, earnest of happy years.

Nor will it nothing profit to observe
The monthly stars, their powerful influence
O'er planted fields, what vegetables reign
Under each sign. On our account has Jove
Indulgent, to all moons some succulent plant
Allotted, that poor helpless man might slack
His present thirst, and matter find for toil.
Now will the Corinths, now the Rasps, supply
Delicious draughts; the Quinces now, or Plums,
Or Cherries, or the fair Thisbeian fruit
Are prest to wines; the Britons squeeze the works
Of sedulous bees, and mixing odorous herbs
Prepare balsamic cups, to wheezing lungs
Medicinal, and short-breath'd, ancient sires.

But, if thou 'rt indefatigably bent
To toil, and omnifarious drinks wouldst brew;
Besides the orchat, every hedge and bush
Affords assistance; ev'n afflictive Birch,
Curs'd by unletter'd, idle youth, distils
A limpid current from her wounded bark,
Profuse of nursing sap. When solar beams
Parch thirsty human veins, the damask'd meads,
Unforc'd, display ten thousand painted flowers
Useful in potables. Thy little sons
Permit to range the pastures: gladly they
Will mow the cowslip-posies, faintly sweet,
From whence thou artificial wines shalt drain
Of icy taste, that, in mid fervors, best
Slack craving thirst, and mitigate the day.

Happy lerne, whose most wholesome air
Poisons envenom'd spiders, and forbids
The baleful toad, and viper, from her shore!
More happy in her balmy draughts, enrich'd
With miscellaneous spices, and the root,
(For thirst-abating sweetness prais'd) which wide
Extend her fame, and to each drooping heart
Present redress, and lively health convey.
See, how the Belgæ, sedulous and stout,
With bowls of fattening Mum, or blissful cups
Of kernel-relish'd fluids, the fair star
Of early Phosphorus salute at noon
Jocund with frequent-rising fumes! by use
Instructed, thus to quell their native phlegm
Prevailing, and engender wayward mirth.

What need to treat of distant climes, remov'd Far from the sloping journey of the year, Beyond Petsora, and Islandic coasts? Where ever-during snows, perpetual shades Of darkness, would congeal their livid blood, Did not the Arctic tract spontaneous yield A cheering purple berry, big with wine, Intensely fervent, which each hour they crave, Spread round a flaming pile of pines, and oft They interlard their native drinks with choice Of strongest Brandy, yet scarce with these aids Enabled to prevent the sudden rot Of freezing nose, and quick-decaying feet. Nor less the sable borderers of Nile, Nor they who Taprobane manure, nor they Whom sunny Bornio bears, are stor'd with streams

* Ireland.

Egregious, Rum, and Rice's spirit extract.
For here, expos'd to perpendicular rays,
In vain they covet shades, and Thracia's gales,
Pining with equinoctial heat, unless
The cordial glass perpetual motion keep,
Quick circuiting; nor dare they close their eyes,
Void of a bulky charger near their lips,
With which, in often-interrupted sleep,
Their frying blood compels to irrigate
Their dry-furr'd tongues, else minutely to death
Obnoxious, dismal death, th' effect of drought!

More happy they, born in Columbus' world, Carybbes, and they, whom the Cotton plant With downy-sprouting vests arrays! their woods Bow with prodigious nuts, that give at once Celestial food, and nectar; then, at hand The Lemon, uncorrupt with voyage long, To vinous spirits added (heavenly drink!) They with pneumatic engine ceaseless draw, Intent on laughter; a continual tide Flows from the exhilarating fount. As, when Against a secret cliff, with sudden shock A ship is dash'd, and leaking drinks the sea, Th' astonish'd mariners aye ply the pump, Nor stay, nor rest, till the wide breach is clos'd: So they (but cheerful) unfatigued, still move The draining sucker, then alone concern'd When the dry bowl forbids their pleasing work. But if to hoarding thou art bent, thy hopes Are frustrate, shouldst thou think thy pipes will flow With early limpid wine. The hoarded store, And the harsh draught, must twice endure the Sun's Kind strengthening heat, twice Winter's purging

cold.

There are, that a compounded fluid drain From different mixtures, Woodcock, Pippin, Moyle, Rough Eliot, sweet Permain: the blended streams (Each mutually correcting each) create A pleasurable medley, of what taste Hardly distinguish'd; as the showery arch, With listed colors gay, ore, azure, gules, Delights and puzzles the beholder's eye, That views the wat'ry brede, with thousand shows Of painture varied, yet 's unskill'd to tell Or where one color rises, or one faints.

Some Ciders have by art, or age, unlearn'd
Their genuine relish, and of sundry vines
Assum'd the flavor; one sort counterfeits
The Spanish product; this, to Gauls has seem'd
The sparkling Nectar of Champagne; with that,
A German oft has swill'd his throat, and sworn,
Deluded, that imperial Rhine bestow'd
The generous rummer, whilst the owner, pleas'd,
Laughs inly at his guests, thus entertain'd
With foreign vintage from his cider-cask.

Soon as thy liquor from the narrow cells
Of close-prest husks is freed, thou must refrain
Thy thirsty soul; let none persuade to broach
Thy thick, unwholesome, undigested cades:
The hoary frosts, and northern blasts, take care
Thy muddy beverage to serene, and drive
Precipitant the baser, ropy lees.

And now thy wine's transpicuous, purg'd from all
Its earthly gross, yet let it feed awhile
On the fat refuse, lest, too soon disjoin'd,
From sprightly, it to sharp or vapid change.
When to convenient vigor it attains,
Suffice it to provide a brazen tube
Inflext; self-taught, and voluntary, flies
The defecated liquor, through the vent

Ascending, then by downward tract convey'd,
Spouts into subject vessels, lovely clear.
As when a noontide sun, with summer beams,
Darts through a cloud, her wat❜ry skirts are edg'd
With lucid amber, or undrossy gold:
So, and so richly, the purg'd liquid shines.

Now also, when the colds abate, nor yet
Full summer shines, a dubious season, close
In glass thy purer streams, and let them gain,
From due confinement, spirit, and flavor new.

For this intent, the subtle chymist feeds Perpetual flames, whose unresisted force, O'er sand, and ashes, and the stubborn flint Prevailing, turns into a fusil sea, That in his furnace bubbles sunny-red: From hence a glowing drop with hollow'd steel He takes, and by one efficacious breath Dilates to a surprising cube, or sphere, Or oval, and fit receptacles forms For every liquid, with his plastic lungs, To human life subservient; by his means Ciders in metal frail improve: the Moyle, And tasteful Pippin, in a moon's short year, Acquire complete perfection: now they smoke Transparent, sparkling in each drop, delight Of curious palate, by fair virgins crav'd. But harsher fluids different lengths of time Expect; thy flask will slowly mitigate The Eliot's roughness. Stirom, firmest fruit, Embottled (long as Priæmian Troy Withstood the Greeks) endures, ere justly mild. Soften'd by age, it youthful vigor gains. Fallacious drink! ye honest men, beware, Nor trust its smoothness; the third circling glass Suffices virtue: but may hypocrites, (That slyly speak one thing, another think, Hateful as Hell) pleas'd with the relish weak, Drink on unwarn'd, till by enchanting cups Infatuate, they their wily thoughts disclose, And through intemperance grow awhile sincere. The farmer's toil is done; his cades mature Now call for vent: his lands exhaust permit T indulge awhile. Now solemn rites he pays To Bacchus, author of heart-cheering mirth. His honest friends, at thirsty hour of dusk, Come uninvited; he with bounteous hand Imparts his smoking vintage, sweet reward Of his own industry; the well-fraught bowl Circles incessant, whilst the humble cell With quavering laugh and rural jests resounds. Ease, and content, and undissembled love, Shine in each face; the thoughts of labor past Increase their joy: as, from retentive cage When sullen Philomel escapes, her notes She varies, and of past imprisonment Sweetly complains; her liberty retriev'd Cheers her sad soul, improves her pleasing song. Gladsome they quaff, yet not exceed the bounds Of healthy temperance, nor encroach on night, Season of rest, but well bedew'd repair Each to his home, with unsupplanted feet. Ere Heaven's emblazon'd by the rosy dawn, Domestic cares awake them; brisk they rise, Refresh'd, and lively with the joys that flow From amicable talk, and moderate cups Sweetly interchang'd. The pining lover finds Present redress, and long oblivion drinks Of coy Lucinda. Give the debtor wine; His joys are short, and few; yet when he drinks, His dread retires, the flowing glasses add

Courage and mirth: magnificent in thought,
Imaginary riches he enjoys,

And in the gaol expatiates unconfin'd.
Nor can the poet Bacchus' praise indite,
Debarr'd his grape the Muses still require
Humid regalement, nor will aught avail
Imploring Phoebus, with unmoisten'd lips.
Thus to the generous bottle all incline,
By parching thirst allur'd: with vehement suns
When dusty Summer bakes the crumbling clods,
How pleasant is 't, beneath the twisted arch
Of a retreating bower, in mid-day's reign
To ply the sweet carouse, remote from noise,
Secur'd of feverish heats! When th' aged year
Inclines, and Boreas' spirit blusters frore,
Beware th' inclement Heavens; now let thy hearth
Crackle with juiceless boughs; thy lingering blood
Now instigate with th' apple's powerful streams.
Perpetual showers, and storiny gusts, confine
The willing plowman, and December warns
To annual jollities; now sportive youth
Carol incondite rhymes, with suiting notes,
And quaver unharmonious; sturdy swains
In clean array for rustic dance prepare,
Mixt with the buxom damsels; hand in hand
They frisk and bound, and various mazes weave,
Shaking their brawny limbs, with uncouth mien,
Transported, and sometimes an oblique leer,
Dart on their loves, sometimes an hasty kiss
Steal from unwary lasses; they with scorn,
And neck reclin'd, resent the ravish'd bliss.
Meanwhile blind British bards with volant touch
Traverse loquacious strings, whose solemn notes
Provoke to harmless revels; these among,
A subtle artist stands, with wondrous bag
That bears imprison'd winds (of gentler sort
Than those, which erst Laertes' son inclos'd.)
Peaceful they sleep; but let the tuneful squeeze
Of laboring elbow rouse them, out they fly
Melodious, and with sprightly accents charm.
'Midst these disports, forget they not to drench
Themselves with bellying goblets; nor, when Spring
Returns, can they refuse to usher in

The fresh-born year with loud acclaim, and store
Of jovial draughts, now, when the sappy boughs
Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments
Of future harvest. When the Gnossian crown
Leads on expected autumn, and the trees
Discharge their mellow burthens, let them thank
Boon Nature, that thus annually supplies
Their vaults, and with her former liquid gifts
Exhilarates their languid minds, within
The golden mean confin'd: beyond there's nought
Of health, or pleasure. Therefore, when thy heart
Dilates with fervent joys, and eager soul
Prompts to pursue the sparkling glass, be sure
"Tis time to shun it; if thou wilt prolong
Dire compotation, forthwith Reason quits
Her empire to confusion, and misrule,

And vain debates; then twenty tongues at once
Conspire in senseless jargon, nought is heard
But din, and various clamor, and mad rant:
Distrust, and jealousy, to these succeed,
And anger-kindling taunt, the certain bane
Of well-knit fellowship. Now horrid frays
Commence, the brimming glasses now are hurl'd
With dire intent; bottles with bottles clash
In rude encounter, round their temples fly
The sharp-edg'd fragments, down their batter'd
cheeks

Mix'd gore and cider flow.
What shall we say
Of rash Elpenor, who in evil hour
Dried an immeasurable bowl, and thought
T'exhale his surfeit by irriguous sleep,
Imprudent? him Death's iron-sleep opprest,
Descending careless from his couch; the fall
Luxt his neck-joint, and spinal marrow bruis'd.
Nor need we tell what anxious cares attend
The turbulent mirth of wine; nor all the kinds
Of maladies, that lead to Death's grim cave,
Wrought by intemperance, joint-racking gout,
Intestine stone, and pining atrophy,
Chill even when the Sun with July heats
Fries the scorch'd soil, and dropsy all afloat,
Yet craving liquids: nor the Centaurs' tale
Be here repeated; how, with lust and wine
Inflam'd, they fought, and spilt their drunken souls
At feasting hour. Ye heavenly Powers, that guard
The British isles, such dire events remove
Far from fair Albion, nor let civil broils
Ferment from social cups: may we, remote
From the hoarse, brazen sound of war, enjoy
Our humid products, and with seemly draughts
Enkindle mirth, and hospitable love.
Too oft, alas! has mutual hatred drench'd
Our swords in native blood; too oft has pride,
And hellish discord, and insatiate thirst
Of others' rights, our quiet discompos'd.
Have we forgot, how fell Destruction rag'd
Wide-spreading, when by Eris' torch incens'd
Our fathers warr'd? what heroes, signaliz'd
For loyalty and prowess, met their fate
Untimely, undeserv'd! how Bertie fell,
Compton, and Granville, dauntless sons of Mars,
Fit themes of endless grief, but that we view
Their virtues yet surviving in their race!
Can we forget, how the mad, headstrong rout
Defied their prince to arms, nor made account
Of faith or duty, or allegiance sworn?
Apostate, atheist rebels! bent to ill,
With seeming sanctity, and cover'd fraud,
Instill'd by him, who first presum'd t'oppose
Omnipotence; alike their crime, th' event
Was not alike; these triumph'd, and in height
Of barbarous malice, and insulting pride,
Abstain'd not from imperial blood. fact
Unparallel'd! O Charles, O best of kings!
What stars their black disastrous influence shed
On thy nativity, that thou shouldst fall
Thus, by inglorious hands, in this thy realm,
Supreme and innocent, adjudg'd to death
By those thy mercy only would have sav'd!
Yet was the Cider-land unstain'd with guilt;
The Cider-land, obsequious still to thrones,
Abhorr'd such base disloyal deeds, and all
Her pruning-hooks extended into swords,
Undaunted, to assert the trampled rights
Of monarchy: but, ah! successless she,
However faithful! then was no regard
Of right, or wrong. And this once-happy land,
By homebred fury rent, long groan'd beneath
Tyrannic sway, till fair revolving years
Our exil'd kings and liberty restor❜d.
Now we exult, by mighty Anna's care
Secure at home, while she to foreign realms
Sends forth her dreadful legions, and restrains
The rage of kings: here, nobly she supports
Justice oppress'd; here, her victorious arms
Quell the ambitious: from her hand alone
All Europe fears revenge, or hopes redress.

Rejoice, O Albion! sever'd from the world
By Nature's wise indulgence, indigent
Of nothing from without; in one supreme
Entirely blest; and from beginning time
Design'd thus happy; but the fond desire
Of rule and grandeur multiplied a race
Of kings, and numerous sceptres introduc'd,
Destructive of the public weal. For now
Each potentate, as wary fear, or strength,
Or emulation urg'd, his neighbor's bounds
Invades, and ampler territory seeks
With ruinous assault; on every plain

Host cop'd with host, dire was the din of war,
And ceaseless, or short truce haply procur'd
By havoc, and dismay, till jealousy

Rais'd new combustion. Thus was peace in vain
Sought for by martial deeds, and conflict stern:
Till Edgar grateful (as to those who pine
A dismal half-year night, the orient beam
Of Phoebus' lamp) arose, and into one
Cemented all the long-contending powers.
Pacific monarch! then her lovely head
Concord rear'd high, and all around diffus'd
The spirit of love. At ease, the bards new-strung
Their silent harps, and taught the woods and vales,
In uncouth rhymes, to echo Edgar's name.
Then gladness smil'd in every eye; the years
Ran smoothly on, productive of a line
Of wise, heroic kings, that by just laws
Establish'd happiness at home, or crush'd
Insulting enemies in furthest climes.

See lion-hearted Richard, with his force
Drawn from the North, to Jewry's hallow'd plains!
Piously valiant (like a torrent swell'd
With wintry tempests, that disdains all mounds,
Breaking a way impetuous, and involves
Within its sweep, trees, houses, men) he press'd
Amidst the thickest battle, and o'erthrew
Whate'er withstood his zealous rage: no pause,
No stay of slaughter, found his vigorous arm,
But th' unbelieving squadrons turn'd to flight,
Smote in the rear, and with dishonest wounds
Mangled behind. The Soldan, as he fled,
Oft call'd on Allah, gnashing with despite
And shame, and murmur'd many an empty curse.
Behold third Edward's streamers blazing high
On Gallia's hostile ground! his right withheld,
Awakens vengeance. O imprudent Gauls,
Relying on false hopes, thus to incense
The warlike English! One important day
Shall teach you meaner thoughts. Eager of fight,
Fierce Brutus' offspring to the adverse front
Advance resistless, and their deep array
With furious inroad pierce: the mighty force
Of Edward twice o'erturn'd their desperate king;
Twice he arose, and join'd the horrid shock:
The third time, with his wide-extended wings,
He fugitive declin'd superior strength,
Discomfited; pursued, in the sad chase
Ten thousand ignominious fall; with blood
The valleys float. Great Edward thus aveng'd,
With golden Iris his broad shield emboss'd.
Thrice-glorious prince! whom Fame with all her
tongues

For ever shall resound. Yet from his loins
New authors of dissension spring: from him
Two branches, that in hosting long contend
For sov'reign sway; and can such anger dwell
In noblest minds? But little now avail'd
The ties of friendship; every man, as led

220

By inclination, or vain hope, repair'd

To either camp, and breath'd immortal hate,
Now horrid Slaughter reigns:
And dire revenge.
Sons against fathers tilt the fatal lance,
Careless of duty, and their native grounds
Distain with kindred blood; the twanging bows
Send showers of shafts, that on their barbed points
Alternate ruin bear. Here might you see
Barons, and peasants, on th' embattled field
Slain, or half-dead, in one huge, ghastly heap
With dismal groans,
Promiscuously amass'd.
And ejulation, in the pangs of death
Some call for aid, neglected; some, o'erturn'd
In the fierce shock, lie gasping, and expire,
Trampled by fiery coursers: Horror thus,
And wild Uproar, and Desolation, reign'd
Unrespited. Ah! who at length will end
This long, pernicious fray? what man has Fate
Reserv'd for this great work?-Hail, happy prince
Of Tudor's race, whom in the womb of Time
Cadwallador foresaw! thou, thou art he,
Great Richmond Henry, that by nuptial rites
Must close the gates of Janus, and remove
Destructive Discord. Now no more the drum
Provokes to arms, or trumpet's clangor shrill
Affrights the wives, or chills the virgins' blood;
But joy and pleasure open to the view
Uninterrupted! with presaging skill
Thou to thy own unitest Fergus' line
By wise alliance: from thee James descends,
Heaven's chosen favorite, first Britannic king.
To him alone hereditary right

Peculiar ends, on each side resolute
To fly conjunction; neither fear, nor hope,
Nor the sweet prospect of a mutual gain,
Could aught avail, till prudent Anna said,
Let there be union: straight with reverence due
To her command, they willingly unite,
One in affection, laws and government,
Indissolubly firm; from Dubris south,
To northern Orcades, her long domain.

And now, thus leagued by an eternal bond,
What shall retard the Britons' bold designs,
Or who sustain their force, in union knit,
Sufficient to withstand the powers combin'd
Of all this globe? At this important act
The Mauritanian and Cathaian kings
Already tremble, and th' unbaptiz'd Turk
Dreads war from utmost Thule. Uncontroll'd
The British navy through the ocean vast
Shall wave her double cross, t'extremest climes
Terrific, and return with odorous spoils
Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' wealth,
Pearl, and barbaric gold: meanwhile the swains
Shall unmolested reap what Plenty strows
From well-stor'd horn, rich grain, and timely fruits
The elder year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck
With ruby-tinctur'd births, whose liquid store
Abundant, flowing in well-blended streams,
The native shall applaud; while glad they talk
Of baleful ills, caus'd by Bellona's wrath
In other realms; where'er the British spread
Triumphant banners, or their fame has reach'd
Diffusive, to the utmost bounds of this

Gave power supreme; yet still some seeds remain'd Wide universe, Silurian cider borne

Of discontent: two nations under one,
In laws and interest diverse, still pursued

Shall please all tastes, and triumph o'er the vine.

A

THOMAS PARNELL.

THOMAS PARNELL, an agreeable poet, was de- [tention of rising to notice; but the change of the scended from an ancient family in Cheshire. His ministry at Queen Anne's death put an end to his father, who was attached to the cause of the Par- more brilliant prospects in the church. By means, liament in the civil wars of Charles I., withdrew to however, of Swift's recommendation to Archbishop Ireland after the Restoration, where he purchased King, he obtained a prebend, and the valuable an estate. His eldest son, Thomas, was born at living of Finglass. Dublin, in 1679, and received his school education His domestic happiness received a severe shock in that city. At an early age he was removed to in 1712, by the death of his beloved wife; and it the college, where he was admitted to the degree was the effect on his spirits of this affliction, which of M A. in 1700, took deacon's orders in the same led him into such a habit of intemperance in wine, year, and was ordained priest three years after- as shortened his days. This, at least, is the gloss wards. In 1705 he was presented to the arch- put upon the circumstance by his historian, Golddeaconry of Clogher, and about the same time smith, who represents him, "as in some measure a married a lady of great beauty and merit. He now martyr to conjugal fidelity." But it can scarcely be began to make those frequent excursions to England, doubted, that this mode of life had already been in which the most desirable part of his life was formed when his very unequal spirits had required thenceforth spent. His first connexions were prin- the aid of a glass for his support. He died at Chescipally with the Whigs, at that time in power; and ter, on his way to Ireland, in July 1717, in the Addison, Congreve, and Steele, are named mong thirty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in his chief companions. When, at the latter part of Trinity Church, in that city. Queen Anne's reign, the Tories were triumphant, Parnell was the author of several pieces, both in Parnell deserted his former friends, and associated prose and verse; but it is only by the latter that he with Swift, Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot. Swift in- is now known. Of these a collection was published troduced him to Lord-Treasurer Harley; and, with by Pope, with a dedication to the Earl of Oxford. the dictatorial air which he was fond of assuming, Their characters are ease, sprightliness, fancy, clearinsisted upon the Treasurer's going with his staff in ness of language, and melody of versification; and his hand into the antichamber, where Parnell was though not ranking among the most finished producwaiting to welcome him. It is said of this poet, tions of the British muse, they claim a place among that every year, as soon as he had collected the the most pleasing. A large addition to these was rents of his estate, and the revenue of his benefices, made in a work printed in Dublin, in 1758, of he came over to England, and spent some months, which Dr. Johnson says, "I know not whence they living in an elegant style, and rather impairing than came, nor have ever inquired whither they are improving his fortune. At this time he was an as- going." siduous preacher in the London pulpits, with the in

FAIRY TALE,

IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STYLE.

IN Britain's isle, and Arthur's days,
When midnight fairies danc'd the maze,
Liv'd Edwin of the Green;
Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth.
Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth,
Though badly shap'd he'd been.

His mountain back mote well be said,
To measure height against his head,
And lift itself above:
Yet, spite of all that Nature did
To make his uncouth form forbid,
This creature dar'd to love.

He felt the charms of Edith's eyes,
Nor wanted hope to gain the prize,
Could ladies look within;
But one Sir Topaz dress'd with art,
And, if a shape could win a heart,

He had a shape to win.
U

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