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Ye Lybian tygers, come with fleecy rams, .
And wolves rapacious, mix with tender lambs,
The princely lion, with the generous horse ;
Come all of savage rage, or sinewy force :
Let every creature bear a part to raise
One mighty Hallelujah to his praise.
Let thus, all nature gladly joyn to sing
The triumphs of our Saviour and our King :
Let thus, one universal song go round,
And Heaven's high roof the joyful noise resound:
“For wondrous things has our Redeemer done,
And with his own Right-Hand the glorious

conquest won."


Edston, Warwickshire, 1692—1742.

The Chase will preserve the Writer's name and reputation

when his other Works are neglected, for it is the production of a sportsman, a scholar, and a poet. Shenstone has described his private character in one of those happy sentences, which being once heard is never to be forgotten. • I loved Mr. Somervile, because he knew so perfectly what belonged to the flocci-nauci-nihili-pilification of money.'

To his Elbow Chair, new-clothed.

My dear companion, and my faithful friend! "
If Orpheus taught the listening oaks to bend;
If stones and rubbish, at Amphion's call,
Danced into form, and built the Theban wall ;
Why should'st not thou attend my humble lays,
And hear my grateful harp resound thy praise ?
True, thou art spruce and fine, a very beau ;
But what are trappings and external show ?

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To real worth alone I make my court;
Knaves are my scorn, and coxcombs are my sport.
Once I beheld thee far less trim and gay;
Ragged, disjointed, and to worms a prey ;
The safe retreat of every lurking mouse ;
Derided, shunn'd; the lumber of my house.
Thy robe how changed from what it was before !
Thy velvet robe, which pleased my sires of

'Tis thus capricious fortune wheels us round ;
Aloft we mount—then tumble to the ground.
Yet grateful then, my constancy I proved ;
I knew thy worth ; my friend in rags I loved ;
I loved thee more ; nor like a courtier, spurn'd
My benefactor when the tide was turn'd.
With conscious shame, yet frankly, I confess,

That in my youthful days I loved thee less.
Where vanity, where pleasure callid, I stray'd;
And every wayward appetite obey'd.
But sage experience taught me how to prize
Myself; and how this world, she bade me rise
To nobler flights regardless of a race
Of factious emmets ; pointed where to place
My bliss, and lodged me in thy soft embrace.

There on thy yielding down I sit secure;
And patiently what heaven has sent, endure;

From all the futile cares of business free,
Not fond of life, but yet content to be:
Here mark the fleeting hours, regret the past ;
And seriously prepare to meet the last.

So safe on shore the pension'd sailor lies;
And all the malice of the storm defies :
With ease of body blest, and peace of mind,
Pities the restless crew he left behind ;
Whilst, in his cell, he meditates alone
On his great voyage, to the world unknown.'



About 1710-1742.

One Prologue of fourteen lines is all that Hammond has left

except his Love Elegies. Of these Poems and of such as these, the shortest specimen is always the best.

He despairs that he shall ever possess Delia.

Ah, what avails thy lover's pious care ?
His lavish incense clouds the sky in vain,
Nor wealth nor greatness was his idle prayer,
For thee alone he prayed, thee hoped to gain.

With thee I hoped to waste the pleasing day,
Till in thy arms an age of joy was past;
Then, old with love, insensibly decay,
And on thy bosom gently breathe my last.

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