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On the high car her mighty hand she laid,
And thus address'd the valiant Diomed:
The Spartan warriors, prince! renounce the fight,
O'ermatch'd by numbers and superior might:
While adverse Fate their valiant chief restrains,
Who, dead or wounded, with the foe reinains ;
Hegialus lies lifeless on the earth,
Brother to her from whom you claim your birth:
The great Atrides, as he press'd to save,
Leophron's javelin mark'd for him the grave.
To vengeance haste; and, ere it is too late,
With speedy succour stop impending fate :
For stern Leophron, like the rage of flame,
With ruin threatens all the Spartan name.
The Goddess thus : Tydides thus replies :
How partial are the counsels of the skies !
For vulgar merit, oft the Gods with care
Honour, and peace, and happiness prepare ;
While worth, distinguish'd by their partial hate,
Submits to all the injuries of fate.
Adrastus thus, with justice may complain
His daughters widow'd, sons in battle slain.
In the devoted line myself I stand,
And here must perish by some hostile hand :
Yet not for this I shun the works of war,
Nor skulk inglorious when I ought to dare.
And now I'll meet yon terrour of the plain,
To crown his conquests, or avenge the slain.
But wish some valiant youth to rule my car,
And push the horses through the shock of war,
Were present ; for, extended in his gore,
The brave Speusippus knows his charge no more.
FABLE XV. The Crow, and the other Birds. Containing an useful hint to the Criticks. In ancient times, tradition says, When birds, like men, would strive for praise ; The Bulfinch, Nightingale, and Thrush, With all that chant from tree or bush, Would often meet in song to vie; The kinds that sing not, sitting by. A knavish Crow, it seems, had got . The nack to criticise by rote: He understood each learned phrase, As well as criticks, now-a-days : Some say, he learned them from an owl, By listening where he taught a school.
'Tis strange to tell, this subtle creature,
Though nothing musical by nature,
Had learn'd so well to play his part,
With nonsense couch'd in terms of art,
As to be own'd by all at last
Director of the publick taste:
Then, puff'd with insolence and pride,
And sure of numbers on his side,
Each song he freely criticised ;
What he approved not was despised :
But one false step in evil hour,
For ever stript him of his power.
Once when the birds assembled sat,
All listening to his formal chat ;
By instinct nice he chanced to find
A cloud approaching in the wind,
And ravens hardly can refrain
From croaking when they think of rain ;
His wonted song he sung : the blunder
Amazed, and scared them worse than thunder ;
For no one thought so harsh a note
Could ever sound from any throat :
They all at first with mute surprise
Each on his neighbour turn’d his eyes :
But scorn succeeding soon took place,
And might be read in every face.
All this the raven saw with pain
And strove his credit to regain.
Quoth he, The solo which ye heard
In publick should not have appear'd:
The trifle of an idle hour,
To please my mistress once when sour :
My voice, that's somewhat rough and strong,
Might chance the melody to wrong,
But, try'd by rules, you'll find the grounds
Most perfect and harmonious sounds.
He reason'd thus; but to his trouble,
At every word the laugh grew double :
At last o'ercome with shame and spite,
He flew away quite out of sight.
Carnworth, Lanarkshire. 1749–1972.
Græme is indebted to the partial friendship of Dr. Anderson
for a place among the English Poets. In one of his pieces a very curious passage is to be found.
It is debated in Heaven how to reward the distinguished virtue of Archibald Hamilton, Esq. son of the Reverend Mr. Hamilton, Minister of Douglas.
* Shall be at once our happy mansions tread,
From life's low cares and Aesh's fetters freed?
Or rather with some kindred spirit know
All that can be conceived of hcaven below?
'Tis fix'd; and who shall question Heaven's award?
Be Miss Dinwiddie bis divine reward.
Remote from schools, from colleges remote,
In a poor hamlet's meanest, homeliest cot,
My earliest years were spent, obscurely low;
Little I knew, nor much desired to know ;