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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 stormy 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


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. O 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

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By inclination, or vain hope, repair'd
To either camp, and breath'd immortal hate,
And dire revenge. Now horrid Slaughter reigns:
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

Promiscuously amass'd. With dismal groans,
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

Gave power supreme; yet still some seeds remain'd
Of discontent: two nations under one,
In laws and interest diverse, still pursued

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
Wide universe, Silurian cider borne

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


ministry at Queen Anne's death put an end to his more brilliant prospects in the church. By means, however, of Swift's recommendation to Archbishop King, he obtained a prebend, and the valuable living of Finglass.

put upon the circumstance by his historian, Goldsmith, who represents him, "as in some measure a martyr to conjugal fidelity." But it can scarcely be doubted, that this mode of life had already been formed when his very unequal spirits had required the aid of a glass for his support. He died at Chester, on his way to Ireland, in July 1717, in the thirty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in Trinity Church, in that city.

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 father, who was attached to the cause of the Parliament in the civil wars of Charles I., withdrew to Ireland after the Restoration, where he purchased an estate. His eldest son, Thomas, was born at 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 archdeaconry of Clogher, and about the same time married a lady of great beauty and merit. He now began to make those frequent excursions to England, in which the most desirable part of his life was thenceforth spent. His first connexions were principally with the Whigs, at that time in power; and Addison, Congreve, and Steele, are named among his chief companions. When, at the latter part of 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."

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