55
In vain the boafts her faireft of the fair,
Their eyes blue languish, and their golden hair!
Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send ;
Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend.
AGIB.
Ye Georgian fwains, that piteous learn from far
Circaffia's ruin, and the waste of war ;
60
Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare,
To fhield your harvefts, and defend your fair :
The Turk and Tartar like defigns pursue,
Fix'd to destroy, and stedfast to undo.
Wild as his land, in native deserts bred,
By luft incited, or by malice led,
The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey,
Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way;
Yet none fo cruel as the Tartar foe,
To death inur'd, and nurst in scenes of woe.
He faid; when loud along the vale was heard
A shriller shriek, and nearer fires appear'd :
Th' affrighted shepherds, thro' the dews of night,
Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight.
V. 56. eye's.
ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON.
THE SCENE OF THE FOLLOWING STANZAS IS SUPPOSED TO LIE ON THE THAMES, NEAR RICHMOND.
I.
In yonder grave a Druid lies
Where flowly winds the stealing wave! The year's beft fweets fhall duteous rife, To deck its Poet's fylvan grave!
II.
In yon deep bed of whifp'ring reeds,
His airy harp fhall now be laid,
That he, whofe heart in forrow bleeds,
*
May love thro' life the foothing fhade.
III.
Then maids and youths fhall linger here,
And while its founds at diftance fwell,
Shall fadly feem in Pity's ear
To hear the Woodland Pilgrim's knell.
The harp of EOLUS, of which fee a defcription in the CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.
*
BY MARK AKENSIDE, M. D.
I.
THE radiant ruler of the year
At length his wintry goal attains;
Soon to reverse the long career,
And northward bend his fteady reins.
Now, piercing half Potofi's height,
Prone rush the fiery floods of light
Ripening the mountain's filver ftores:
While, in fome cavern's horrid fhade,
The panting Indian hides his head,
And oft the approach of eve implores.
II.
But lo, on this deferted coaft
How pale the fun! how thick the air!
Mustering his ftorms, a fordid hoft,
Lo, Winter desolates the year.
The fields refign their latest bloom;
No more the breezes waft perfume,
Born 1721; dyed 1770.
Now waft me from the green hill's fide
Whofe cold turf hides the buried friend!
IX.
And fee, the fairy valleys fade,
Dun Night has veil'd the folemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted shade,
Meek Nature's Child, again adieu !
X.
The genial meads affign'd to bless
Thy life, fhall mourn thy early doom;
Their hinds, and fhepherd-girls fhall dress
With fimple hands thy rural tomb.
XI.
Long, long, thy fstone, and pointed clay
Shall melt the mufing Briton's eyes,
O! vales, and wild woods, fhall He say,
In yonder grave Your Druid lies!
Mr. Thomfon refided in the neighbourhood of Richmond sometime before his death.
I.
T
HE radiant ruler of the year
At length his wintry goal attains;
Soon to reverse the long career,
And northward bend his fteady reins.
Now, piercing half Potofi's height,
Prone rush the fiery floods of light
Ripening the mountain's filver ftores:
While, in fome cavern's horrid fhade,
The panting Indian hides his head,
And oft the approach of eve implores.
II.
But lo, on this deserted coaft
How pale the fun! how thick the air!
Mustering his ftorms, a fordid hoft,
Lo, Winter defolates the year.
The fields refign their latest bloom;
No more the breezes waft perfume,
* Born 1721; dyed 1770.
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