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Gave him the eye sublime ; the searching glance, To after-ages, and applauding worlds
So vainly wish’d, so fondly hoped the muse :
, and breathed into his swelling And Cyrnus is no more. Her generous sons,
Less vanquish'd than o'erwhelm’d, by numbers
Admired, unaided fell. So strives the moon
In dubious battle with the gathering clouds,
And strikes a splendour through them; till at
Storms rolled on storms involve the face of heaven
And quench her struggling fires. Forgive the zeal
That, too presumptuous, whisper'd better things,
And read the book of destiny amiss.
Is virtue best adorn'd: th' attempt is praise.
Than kings or senales can destroy or give;
Beyond the proud oppressor's cruel grasp
Seated secure, uninjured, undestroy'd ;
Worthy of gods —the freedom of the mind.
THE MOUSE'S PETITION.
O HEAR a pensive prisoner's prayer,
And never let thine heart be shut
Against the wretch's cries !
For here forlorn and sad I sit,
Within the wiry grate ;
And tremble at th' approaching morn,
Which brings impending fate.
If e'er thy breast with freedom glow'd,
And spurn'd a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy strong oppressive force
A free-born mouse detain !
O do not stain with guiltless blood
Thy hospitable hearth ;
Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd
A prize so little worth.
The scatter'd gleanings of a feast
My frugal meals supply ;
But if thine unrelenting heart
That slender boon deny,-
The cheerful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given;
The common gifts of heaven.
To all compassion gives;
Casts round the world an equal eye
And feels for all that lives.
night by Dr. Priestley, for the sake of making experi-
If mind,-as ancient sages taught,
Happy old man who stretch'd beneath the shade A never-dying flame,
Of large grown trees, or in the rustic porch Still shifts through maiter's varying forms With woodbine canopied, where linger yet In every form the same;
The hospitable virtues, calm enjoy’st
Nature's best blessings all ;-a healthy age
Ruddy and vigorous, native cheerfulness,
Plain-hearted friendship, simple piety,
The rural manners and the rural joys
Friendly to life. O rude of speech, yet rich
In genuine worth, not unobserved shall pass Or, if this transient gleam of day
Thy bashful virtues ! for the muse shall mark, Be all of life we share,
Detect thy charities, and call to light
Thy secret deeds of mercy; while the poor,
The desolate, and friendless, at thy gate,
A numerous family, with better praise So may thy hospitable board
Shall hallow in their hearts thy spotless name. With health and peace be crown'd; And every charm of heartfelt ease Beneath thy roof be found,
Such were the dames of old heroic days,
Which faithful story yet delights to praise ;
Who, great in useful works, hung o'er the loom,May some kind angel clear thy path,
The mighty mothers of immortal Rome:
Obscure, in sober dignity retired,
Chaste their attire, their feet unused to roam,
They loved the sacred threshold of their home ;
Yet true to glory, fann'd the generous flame, O BORN to soothe distress and lighten care,
Bade lovers, brothers, sons aspire to fame; Lively as soft, and innocent as fair!
In the young bosom cherish'd Virtue's seed, Blest with that sweet simplicity of thought
The secret springs of many a godlike deed. So rarely found, and never to be taught;
So the fair stream in some sequester'd glade Of winning speech, endearing, artless, kind,
With lowly state glides silent through the shade ; The loveliest pattern of a female mind;
Yet by the smiling meads her urn is blest, Like some fair spirit from the realms of rest,
With freshest flowers her rising banks are drest, With all her native heaven within her breast;
And groves of laurel by her sweetness fed,
High o'er the forest lift their verdant head.
Is there whom genius and whom taste adorn
With rare but happy union; in whose breast Wealth may be courted, Wisdom be revered, And Beauty praised, and brutal Strength be sear’d; With stores of various knowledge, dwell the
Calm, philosophic, thoughtful, largely fraught But Goodness only can affection move, And love must owe its origin to love
Of still domestic leisure breathe the soul
Of friendship, peace, and elegant delight
Beneath poetic shades, where leads the muse
Through walks of fragance, and the fairy groves OF gentle manners, and of taste refined, With all the graces of a polish'd mind;
Where young ideas blossom ?— Is there one
Whose tender hand, lenient of human woes, Clear sense and truth still shone in all she spoke,
Wards off the dart of death, and smooths the couch And from her lips no idle sentence broke.
Of torturing anguish? On so dear a name Each nicer elegance of art she knew;
May blessings dwell, honour and cordial praise ; Correctly fair, and regularly true.
Nor heed he be a brother to be loved.
CHAMPION of Truth, alike through Nature's field, So subject all to reason's calm control,
And where in sacred leaves she shines reveald, One only passion, strong and unconfined,
Alike in both, eccentric, piercing, bold,
Like his own lightnings, which no chains
hold; One passion ruled despotic in her breast, But that was love; and love delights to bless
Neglecting caution, and disdaining art,
He seeks no armour for a naked heart:-
Pursue the track thy ardent genius shows,
Travel the various map of Science o'er,
A mass of heterogeneous matter,
A chaos dark, nor land nor water ;-
Waiting the printer's clothing hand ;-
Their limbs unfashion'd all, and rude,
Like Cadmus' half-form'd men appear; Which charm'd us once, for once those scenes One rears a helm, one lifts a spear, were ours!
And feet were lopp'd and fingers torn
Before the head was seen at all,
Which quiet as a mushroom lay While its firm banks repel conflicting tides,
Till crumbling hillocks gave it way ; And stately on its breast the vessel glides ; And all, like controversial writing, Admiring much the shepherd stands to gaze,
Were born with teeth, and sprung up fighting Awe-struck, and mingling wonder with his praise ;
“ But what is this," I hear you cry,
ON A LADY'S WRITING.
Her even lines her steady temper show, AN INVENTORY OF THE FURNITURE IN Neat as her dress, and polish'd as her brow; R. PRIESTLEY'S STUDY.
Strong as her judgment, easy as her air ;
Correct though free, and regular though fair : A MAP of every country known,
And the same graces o'er her pen preside, With not a foot of land his own.
That form her manners and her footsteps guide A list of folks that kick'd a dust On this poor globe, from Ptol. the First; He hopes,--indeed it is but fair,Some day to get a corner there.
ON THE DESERTED VILLAGE. A group of all the British kings, Fair emblem! on a packthread swings.
In vain fair Auburn weeps her desert plains, The fathers, ranged in goodly row,
She moves our envy who so well complains ; A decent, venerable show,
In vain has proud oppression laid her low, Writ a great while ago, they tell us,
So sweet a garland on her faded brow. And many an inch o'ertop their fellows.
Now, Auburn, now absolve impartial fate, A Juvenal to hunt for mottoes;
Which if it made thee wretched, makes thee great And Ovid's tales of nymphs and grottoes.
So, unobserved, some humble plant may bloom, The meek-robed lawyers, all in white;
Till crush'd it fills the air with sweet perfiime ; Pure as the lamb,--at least to sight.
So, had thy swains in ease and plenty slept, A shelf of bottles, jar and phial,
Thy poet had not sung, nor Britain wept. By which the rogues he can defy all,
Nor let Britannia mourn her drooping bay, All fill'd with lightning keen and genuine,
Unhonour'd genius, and her swift decay; And many a little imp he'll pen you in;
O patron of the poor! it cannot be, Which, like Le Sage's sprite, let out
While one-one poet yet remains like thee! Among the neighbours makes a rout;
Nor can the muse desert our favour'd isle, Brings down the lightning on their houses,
Till thou desert the muse and scorn her smile
HYMN TO CONTENT.
.........natura beatis Answer, remark, reply, rejoinder,
Omnibus esse dedit, si quis cognoverit uti.
CLAUDIAN. Fresh from the mint, all stamp'd and coin'd here; Like new-made glass, set by to cool,
Otrou, the nymph with placid eye! Before it bears the workman's tool.
O seldom found, yet ever nigh! A blotted proof-sheet, wet from Bowling.
Receive my temperate vow: _“How can a man his anger hold in ?"
Not all the storms that shake the pole Forgotten rhymes, and college themes,
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul, Worm-eaten plans, and embryo schemes ;
And smooth unalter'd brow.
O come, in simple vest array'd,
To bless my longing sight;
And chaste subdued delight. No more by varying passions beat, O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell ; Where in some pure and equal sky, Beneath thy soft indulgent eye,
The modest virtues dwell.
Simplicity in Attic vest,
And clear undaunted eye ;
A vista to the sky.
There Ilealth, through whose calm bosom glide
That rarely ebb or flow;
To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
With settled smiles to meet :
And kiss'd thy sainted feet.
But thou, O nymph retired and coy! In what brown hamlet dost thou joy
To tell thy tender tale ? The lowliest children of the ground, Moss-rose, and violet blossom round,
And lily of the vale. O say what soft propitious hour I best may choose to hail thy power,
And court thy gentle sway? When Autumn friendly to the muse, Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day.
Or pierced some fond unguarded heart
The potent sounds like lightning dart
“Daughters of Jove, receive the child,"
Ah, luckless hour! mistaken maids,
When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
And every storm is laid ;-
Low whispering through the shade.
THE ORIGIN OF SONG-WRITING.
Ilic indocto primum se exercuit arcu ;
When Cupid, wanton boy! was young,
• Addressed to the Author of Essays on Song.writing.
The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil
Protects thy modest blooms
And wash'd with tears, the mournful verse
Sweet is thy reign, but short:- The red dog-star
Thy greens, thy flowerets all,
Remorseless shall destroy.
Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits,
Can aught for thee atone.
Each joy and new-born hope
AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.
ODE TO SPRING.
God of my life! and Author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise; SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy sire, And trembling, take upon a mortal tongue Hoar Winter's blooming child; delightful Spring! That hallowed name, to harps of seraphs sung. Whose unshorn locks with leaves
Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more And swelling buds are crown'd;
Than veil their faces, tremble, and adore. From the green islands of eternal youth,
Worms, angels, men, in every different sphere, Crown'd with fresh blooms and ever springing All nature faints beneath the mighty name,
Are equal all,- for all are nothing here. shade, Turn, hither turn thy step,
Which nature's works through all their parts O thou, whose powerful voice
I feel that name my inmost thoughts control, More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed, And breathe an awful stillness through my soul; Or Lydian fute, can sooth the madding wind, As by a charm, the waves of grief subside ; And through the stormy deep
Impetuous Passion stops her headlong tide : Breathe thine own tender calm.
At thy felt presence all emotions cease,
And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace, Thee, best beloved ! the virgin train await
Till every worldly thought within me dies, With songs and sestal rites, and joy to rove And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes ; Thy blooming wilds among,
Till all my sense is lost in infinite, And vales and dewy lawns,
And one vast object fills my aching sight. With untired feet; and cull thy earliest sweets
But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke; To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke ; Of him, the favoured youth
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain, That prompts their whisper'd sigh.
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just, Unlock thy copious stores,—those tender showers Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust. That drop their sweetness on the infant buds ; His spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind, And silent dews that swell
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined ; The milky ear's green stem,
Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking flax into a flame.
He reads the language of a silent tear,
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere. Salute the blowing flowers.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give; Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn,
Accept the vow, and bid the suppliant live: And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ;
From each terrestrial bondage set me free ; And watch with patient eye
Still every wish that centres not in thee; Thy fair unfolding charmg.
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace. O nymph, approach! while yet the temperate sun If the soft hand of winning Pleasure leads With bashful forehead through the cold moist air By living waters, and through flowery meads, Throws his young maiden beams,
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene, And with chaste kisses woos
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene