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She swore', indeed, 'twas strange', 'twas passing strange'; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pi'tiful ·
She wished she ha'd not heard' it- -yet she wished
That Heav'n had made her such a ma`n :—she than`ked me,
And bade' me, if I had a friend that lov'ed her,
I should but te'ach him/ how to tell my story,
And that' would wo'o her. On' this hint', I spake':
She' loved me for the dangers/ I had passed';
And I loved her', that she did pity them.
Thi's, only, is the witchcraft/ I ha`ve-used.
Now stood Eliza, on the wood-crown'd height'
O'er Minden's plain', specta'tress of the fight,
Sought', with bold eye', amid the bloody strife,
Her dearer s'elf, the partner of her life';
From hill to hill the rushing host pursu'ed,
And view'ed his ban'ner, or, believed`-she-viewed.
Pleased with the distant roar', with quicker tread/
Fast by his hand, one lisping bo'y she le'd;
And one fair girl', amid the loud alarm'
Slept on her ker'chief, crad'led by her arm';
While round her brows/ bright beams of honour dart',
And lo've's warm ed'dies/ circle round her heart'.
-Near, and more near, the intrepid be'auty press'ed,
Saw', through the driving smoke', his dan'cing-crest;
Heard the exulting shout', "They run'! they run'!"
"Great God'!" (she cried) "he's safe'! the battle's won`!"
-A ball now hisses through the airy tides',
(Some fury win'g'd it, and some de`mon guides' !)
Parts the fine locks', her graceful head that deck',
Wounds her fair ear', and sinks' into her neck';
The red stream/ issuing from her azure veins'
Dyes' her white veil, her ivory bo'som stains'.-
"Ah me!" she cried, (and, sinking on the ground,
Kissed her dear babes', regardless of the wound';)
"Oh, cease not yet to be'at, (thou vital u'rn !)
"Wait', gushing life', oh wai't, my love's return!
"Hoarse barks the wolf', the vulture screams from far' !
"The angel, Pity', shuns the walks of war!-
"Oh spare, ye war-hounds', spa^re* their tender age'!-
"On me', on me,” (she cried)" exha'ust your ra`ge!"
Then with weak arms, her weeping babes caress'ed,
And, sig'hing, hid' them/ in her bloo'd-stained vest'.
From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies',
(Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes ;)
Eliza's na'me along the camp he calls',
Eliza,* echoes through the canvass walls`;
Qui'ck/ through the murmuring gloom', his footsteps tread/
O'er groaning-heaps, the dying and the dead,
Va'ult o'er the plain', and, in the tangled wood',
Lo! dead Eliza', w'eltering in her blood' !—
-Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds',
(With open arms/ and spar'kling eyes/ he bo`unds.)—
"Speak lo'w," (he cries, and gives his little h'and,)
"Eliza sleeps' upon the dew-cold sand;
"Po'or/ weeping-babe, with bloody fingers press'ed, "And tried (with pouting lips') her milkless bre`ast. "Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake'
Why do you weep' ?-Mamma' will soon awake'."
"She'll wake no more'!" (the hopeless mourner cri'ed,) Upturned his eyes', and clasped his hands', and sigh`ed; Stretched on the ground'/ awhile entra'nced he lay', And pres'sed warm kiss'es/ on the life'less cla'y ; And then upsprung', with wild', convulsive start', And, a'll the father/ kindled in his heart:
"O, he'avens!" (he cried,) "my first/ ra^sh-vow forgi've! "These bind to earth, for THE SE/ I pray to live!" Round his chill babes/ he wrapped his crimson vest', And clasped them, sobbing', to his a'ching breast'.
*The judicious reader will perceive that the circumflex is simply the union of the two inflexions upon the same syllable;-when it ends with the falling slide, as in this example, "spare," it is denominated the "falling circumflex ;" and when it terminates with the rising inflexion, as in "Eliza," it is called the "rising circumflex," and necessarily commences with the falling inflection.
SAY, what is Ta'ste, but the internal powers
A'ctive and stro'ng, and feelingly ali've
To e'ach/ fine im'pulse? a discerning se'nse
Of d'ecent and subli'me, with quick disgust/
From things defo`rmed, or disarranged, or gro'ss
In species? Thi's, nor ge'ms, nor stores of go`ld,
Nor purple state, nor culture can best'ow;
But God alone, when first his active h ́and/
Imprints the secret b'ias of the sou`l.
H'e, (mighty Parent !) wi'se and ju'st in a'll,
(Free as the vital bre'eze, or light of he ́aven)
Reveals the ch'arms* of na'ture. Ask the sw'ain,
(Who journeys homeward from a summer day's
Long labour) wh'y (forgetful of his toils
And due rep'ose) he loiters/ to behold
The sunshine glea`ming/ as through amber clo'uds
O'er all the western sky'! Full soon, I we'en,
His rude expression, and untutored a'irs,
(Beyond the power of language) will unfold
The form of Beauty/ smi`ling/ at his heart;
How lo'vely how comma'nding! But/ though Heaven/
In every breast/ hath sown these early se'eds
Of love and admir'ation, ye't in vain,
Without fair Culture's/+ kind, paren'tal-aid,
Without enlivening su'ns and genial show'ers,
And shelter from the blast, in vain we h'ope/
The tender plant/ should rear its blooming head,
Or yield the harvest/ promised in its spring.
Nor yet will every s'oil (with e'qual stores)
Repay the tiller's la'bour; or attend
His wi'll, obsequious, whether to produce
The olive or the lau`rel. Different mi'nds/
Incline to different objects: o'ne/ pursues
* No respiration should be taken between the pronunciation of the preposition of, and the noun or adjective which precedes it: thus, "charms-of," "sensible-of," &c.
† Let it be remembered, that a noun in this case, when it precedes an adjective, counts as one, and requires a slight pause after it.
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wi`ld;
An'other/ sighs for har'mony and grace,
And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires
The arch of heaven, and th ́unders rock the ground;
When furious whi`rlwinds/ rend the howling a'ir,
And Ocean (groaning from his lowest b'ed)
Heaves his tempestuous bil'lows/ to the sky;
Amid the mighty upr'oar (while belo'w
The nations tremble) Sh'akspeare/ looks abroad
From some high cli'ff, sup'erior, and enjoys
The ele'mental wa'r. But Waller lo'ngs,
(All on the margin of some flowery stre'am,)
To spread his careless li`mbs, amid the cool
Of plantain sha'des, a'nd/ to the listening d'eer/
The tale of slighted vo'ws/ and Love's disdain
Resounds, soft w'arbling, all the livelong day:
Consenting Zephyr si'ghs; the weeping r'ill/
Joins in his pla'int, melo'dious; mu'te the gr'oves;
And hi'll and d'ale (with all their e'choes) mo`urn.
Su`ch/ and so v'arious/are the tastes of me'n.
THE PLEASURES ARISING FROM A
O BLESSED of Heaven, who'm/ no't the languid songs
Of L'uxury, (the si'ren!) not the bribes
Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils
Of pageant h'onour, can sedu'ce/ to leave
Those e'verblooming sw'eets, wh'ich, from the sto`res
Of n'ature, fair Imagination c'ulls,
To charm the enlivened soul! What! tl:ough not a'll
Of mortal o'ffspring/ can attain the height
Of envied life; though only fe'w/ possess
Patrician trea'sures, or imperial-st'ate :
Yet nature's ca're (to all her children ju'st)
With richer trea'sures/ and an ampler st'ate
Endo'ws/ at large/ whatever happy m'an
Will dei'gn to use them. Hi's the city's p'omp,
The ru^ral honours — his. Whate'er adorns
The princely do'me, the c'olumn and the ar'ch,
The breathing ma'rble, and the sculptured gold,
(Beyond the proud possessor's narrow cla ́im,)
His tuneful breast/ enjo'ys. For him the Spring
Distils her de'ws, a'nd/ from the silken g ́em/
Its lucid leaves unfolds; for hi^m the hand
Of A'utumn/ tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gʻold, and bl'ushes like the mo`rn.
Each passing ho^ur/ sheds tribute from her wi'ng;
And still new beauties/ meet his lonely w'alk,
And loves/ unf'elt/ attract-him. Not a breeze/
Flies o'er the mea'dow, not a cloud/ imbibes
The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain/
(From all the tenants of the warbling sh ́ade)
Asc'ends, but whence hi's/ bosom can partake
Fresh pleasure, u'nrepro'ved. Nor then partakes
Fresh pleasure o'nly; for/* the attentive M'ind,
(By this harmonious action on her p'owers,)
Becomes herself harmonious: wont so o'ft/
In outward-things/ to meditate the charm
Of sacred o'rder, soon she seeks at hôme/
To find a ki^ndred-order, to exert
Within herself this elegance of love,
This fair/ inspired-delight: her tempered powers/
Refine at length, and every pass'ion/ wears
A ch'aster, milder, more attra^ctive-mien.
B'ut, if to a'mpler-prospects, if to gaze
On na'ture's-form, wh'ere (negligent of all
These lesser graces,) she assumes the port
Of that eternal Ma'jesty/ that weighed
The world's foundations; if to these/ the Mind
Exalts her daring e'ye; then mightier far
Will be the change, and no^bler.
Would the forms
Of servile custom/ cramp her generous po'wers?
Would sordid policies, (the barbarous growth
Of ignorance and r'apine,) bow her down
To tame pursuits, to in'dolence and fear?
L'o! she appeals to na'ture, to the winds
And rolling waves, the sun's/ unwearied co ́urse,
* Whenever "for" means "because," it is a conjunction, and requires a pause after it.