Then if foft concord lull'd their fears to fleep,
Inert and filent slept the manly car;
But rush'd horrific o'er the fearful steep,
If freedom's awful clarion breath'd to war.
Now the fleek courtier, indolent, and vain,
Thron'd in the fplendid carriage glides fupine;
To taint his virtue with a foreign ftain,
Or at a favourite's board his faith refign.
Leave them, O luxury! this happy foil!
Chafe her, Britannia, to fome hoftile shore !
Or * fleece the baneful peft with annual spoil,
And let thy virtuous offspring weep no more!
E LE GY XXII.
Written in the year, when the rights of fepulture were fo frequently violated.
AY, gentle fleep, that lov'ft the gloom of night,
Parent of dreams! thou great magician, fay,
Whence my late vifion thus indures the light;
Thus haunts my fancy through the glare of day.
The filent moon had fcal'd the vaulted skies,
And anxious care refign'd my limbs to reft;
A fudden luftre ftruck my wondering eyes,
And Silvia ftood before my couch confeft.
Ah! not the nymph fo blooming and so gay,
That led the dance beneath the feftive fhade!
But she that, in the morning of her day,
Intomb'd beneath the grass-green fod was laid.
* Alludes to a tax upon luxury.
No more her eyes their wonted radiance caft;
No more her breast inspir'd the lover's flame,
No more her cheek the Pæstan rose surpast;
Yet feem'd her lip's etherial fmile the fame. Nor fuch her hair as deck'd her living face; Nor fuch her voice as charm'd the liftening crowd Nor fuch her dress as heighten'd every grace;
Alas! all vanish'd for the mournful fhroud! Yet feem'd her lip's etherial charm the fame; That dear diftinction every doubt remov'd; Perish the lover, whofe imperfect flame
Forgets one feature of the nymph he lov'd.
Damon, she said, mine hour allotted flies;
Oh! do not wafte it with a fruitlefs tear!
Though griev'd to fee thy Silvia's pale difguife,
Sufpend thy forrow, and attentive hear.
So may thy Mufe with virtuous fame be bleft!
So be thy love with mutual love repaid!
So may thy bones in facred filence rest,
Faft by the reliques of fome happier maid'!
Thou know'ft, how lingering on a distant shore
Disease invidious nipt my flowery prime;
And oh what pangs my tender bofom tore,
To think I ne'er muft view my native clime!
No friend was near to raise my drooping head;
No dear companion wept to see me die;
Lodge me within my native foil, I said;
There my fond parents honour'd reliques lie.
Though now debarr'd of each domeftic tear;
Unknown, forgot, I meet the fatal blow; There many a friend shall grace my woeful bier,
And many a figh fhall rife, and tear fhall flow. I spoke, nor fate forbore his trembling spoil; Some vernal mourner lent his careless aid; And foon they bore me to my native foil,
Where my fond parents dear remains were laid. 'Twas then the youths, from every plain and grove, Adorn'd with mournful verfe thy Silvia's bier; "Twas then the nymphs their votive garlands wove, And ftrew'd the fragrance of the youthful year. But why, alas! the tender fcene difplay?
Could Damon's foot the pious path decline? Ah no! 'twas Damon first attun'd his lay, And fure no fonnet was fo dear as thine. Thus was I bofom'd in the peaceful grave; My placid ghoft no longer wept its doom; When favage robbers every fanction brave, And with outrageous guilt defraud the tomb! Shall my poor corfe, fram hoftile realms convey'd, Lofe the cheap portion of my native fands ? Or, in my kindred's dear embraces laid,
Mourn the vile ravage of barbarian hands? Say, would thy breaft no death-like torture feel, To fee my limbs the felon's gripe obey ? To see them gash'd beneath the daring steel ? To crowds a spectre, and tó dogs à pray?
If Pean's fons these horrid rites require,
If health's fair science be by these refin'd,
Let guilty convicts, for their ufe, expire;
And let their breathless corfe avail mankind.
Yet hard it seems, when guilt's last fine is paid,
To see the victim's corfe deny'd repose!
Now, more fevere! the poor offenceless maid
Dreads the dire outrage of inhuman foes.
Where is the faith of ancient pagans fied?
Where the fond care the wandering manes claim?
Nature, instinctive, cries, Protect the dead,
And facred be their afhes, and their fame :
Arife, dear youth! ev'n now the danger calls;
Ev'n now the villain snuffs his wonted prey;
See! fee! I lead thee to yon' facred walls-
Oh! fly to chafe thefe human wolves away."
Reflections fuggefted by his fituation.
ORN near the fcene for Kenelm's fate renown`d
I take my plaintive reed, and range the grove,
And raise my lay, and bid the rocks refound
The favage force of empire, and of love.
Fast by the centre of yon' various wild,
Where fpreading oaks embower a Gothic fane;
Kendrida's arts a brother's youth beguil'd;
There nature urg'd her tendereft pleas in vain.
Soft o'er his birth, and o'er his infant hours,
Th' ambitious maid could every care employ;
Then with affiduous fondness cropt the flowers,
To deck the cradle of the princely boy?
But foon the bofom's pleafing calm is flown;
Love fires her breaft; the fultry paffions rife ;
A favour'd lover feeks the Mercian throne,
And views her Kenelm with a rival's eyes.
How kind were fortune, ah! how just were fate,
Would fate or fortune Mercia's heir remove!
How fweet to revel on the couch of state!
To crown at once her lover and her love!
See, garnish'd for the chace, the fraudful maid
To thefe lone hills direct his devious way;
The youth all prone the fifter guide obey'd,
Ill-fated youth! himself the deftin'd prey.
But now, nor fhaggy hill, nor pathless plain,
Forms the lone refuge of the sylvan game;
Since Lyttelton has crown'd the fweet domain
With fofter pleafures, and with fairer fame.
Where the rough bowman urg'd his headlong fteed,
Immortal bards, a polish'd race, retire;
And where hoarfe fcrcam'd the ftrepent horn, fucceed
The melting graces of no vulgar lyre.
See Thomson loitering near fome limpid well,
For Britain's friend the verdant wreath prepare! Or, ftudious of revolving feafons, tell,
How peerless Lucia made all feasons fair!
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