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edition of the 6 Life of Gustavus" for the

press ; and announced, in a note, that he had finished the “History of the thirty years War in Germany." His servant Dore, afterwards an innkeeper at Bath, got possession of his MSS. and this work is supposed to be irrecoverably lost. In the mean time, he was struck with a palsy in 1766, which attacked him again in 1769, and put a period to his life, five years after. At the time of his death he was vicar of St. Austel and Blazy, in Cornwall.

His poetry is little read; and I am aware of hazarding the appearance of no great elegance of taste, in professing myself amused and interested by several parts of it, particularly by his “ Amaranth.” In spite of pedantry and grotesqueness, he appears, in numerous passages, to have condensed the reflection and information of no ordinary mind. If the reader dislikes his story of “ Eulogius," I have only to inform him, that I have taken some pains to prevent its being more prolix than is absolutely necessary, by the mechanical reduction of its superfluities.



In ancient times, scarce talk'd of, and less known,
When pious Justin fill'd the eastern throne,
In a small dorp, till then for nothing fain'd,
And by the neighb'ring swains Thebaïs nam'd,

Eulogius liv'd: an humble mason he;
In nothing rich, but virtuous poverty.
From noise and riot he devoutly kept,
Sigh'd with the sick, and with the mourner wept;
Half his earn'd pittance to poor neighbours went;
They had his alms, and he had his content.
Still from his little he could something spare
To feed the hungry, and to clothe the bare.
He gave, whilst aught he had, and knew no bounds;
The poor man's drachma stood for rich men's pounds;
He learnt with patience, and with meekness taught,
His life was but the comment of his thought.

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On the south aspect of a sloping hill, Whose skirts meand'ring Penus washes still, Our pious lab'rer pass'd his youthful days In peace and charity, in pray'r and praise. No theatres or oaks around him rise, Whose roots earth's centre touch, whose head the

skies; No stately larch-tree there expands a shade O'er half a rood of Larisséan glade : No lofty poplars catch the murm'ring breeze, Which loit'ring whispers on the cloud-capp'd trees; Such imag'ry of greatness ill became A nameless dwelling, and an unknown name! Instead of forest-monarchs, and their train, The unambitious rose bedeck'd the plain ; On skirting heights thick stood the clust'ring vine, And here and there the sweet-leav'd eglantine;

One lilac only, with a statelier grace,
Presum'd to claim the oak’s and cedar's place,
And, looking round him with a monarch's care,
Spread his exalted boughs to wave in air.

This spot, for dwelling fit, Eulogius chose,
And in a month a decent home-stall rose,
Something, between a cottage and a cell-
Yet virtue here could sleep, and peace could dwell.
From living stone (but not of Parian rocks),
He chipp'd his pavement, and he squar'd his blocks:
And then, without the aid of neighbours' art,
Perform'd the carpenter's and glazier's part.
The site was neither granted him, nor giv'n;
'Twas nature's; and the ground-rent due to heav'n.
Wife he had none: nor had he love to spare ;
An aged mother wanted all his care.
They thank'd their Maker for a pittance sent,
Supp'd on a turnip, slept upon content.

Four rooms, above, below, this mansion grac'a, With white-wash deckt, and river-sand o'ercast : The first, (forgive my verse if too diffuse,) Perform’d the kitchen's and the parlour's use: The second, better bolted and immur'd, From wolves his out-door family secur'd: (For he had twice three kids, besides their dams; A cow, a spaniel, and two fav’rite lambs :) A third, with herbs perfum'd, and rushes spread, Held, for his mother's use, a feather'd bed: Two moss-matrasses in the fourth were shown; One for himself, for friends and pilgrims one.

No flesh from market-towns our peasant sought';
He rear'd his frugal meat, but never bought:
A kid sometimes for festivals he slew;
The choicer part was his sick neighbour's due:
Two bacon-Aitches made his Sunday's cheer;
Some the poor had, and some out-liv'd the year:
For roots and herbage, (rais'd at hours to spare),
With humble milk, compos'd his usual fare.
(The poor man then was rich, and liv'd with

Each barley-head untaxt, and daylight free :)
All had a part in all the rest could spare,
The common water, and the common air.

Meanwhile God's blessings made Eulogius thrive,
The happiest, most contented man alive.
His conscience cheer'd him with a life well spent,
His prudence a superfluous something lent,
Which made the poor who took, and poor who gave,

content. Alternate were his labours and his rest, For ever blessing, and for ever blest.

Eusebius, hermit of a neighb'ring cell, His brother Christian mark’d, and knew him well: With zeal unenvying, and with transport fir’d, Beheld him, prais'd him, lov'd him, and admir'd. “ Then hear me, gracious Heav'n, and grant my

pray'r; “ Make yonder man the fav’rite of thy care: “ Nourish the plant with thy celestial dew, “ Like manna let it fall, and still be new :

“ Expand the blossoms of his gen'rous mind,
“ Till the rich odour reaches half mankind.
« Then may

his soul its free-born range enjoy, “ Give deed to will, and ev'ry pow'r employ."

The hermit's pray’r permitted, not approv'd; Soon in an higher sphere Eulogius mov'd.

One day, in turning some uncultur'd ground, (In hopes a freestone quarry might be found), His mattock met resistance, and behold A casket burst, with di'monds fill'd, and gold. He cramm'd his pockets with the precious store, And every night review'd it o'er and o'er; Till a gay conscious pride, unknown as yet, Touch'd a vain heart, and taught it to forget : And, what still more his stagg'ring virtue tried, His mother, tut'ress of that virtue, died.

A neighb'ring matron, not unknown to fame, (Historians give her Teraminta's name), The parent of the needy and distress'd, With large demesnes and well sav'd treasure blest; (For, like th’Egyptian prince, she hoarded store To feed at periodic dearths the poor); This matron, whiten’d with good works and age, Approach'd the sabbath of her pilgrimage ; Her spirit to himself th' Almighty drew; Breath'd on th' alembic, and exhal'd the dew. In souls prepar'd, the passage is a breath From time t eternity, from life to death, But first, to make the

her future care, She left the good Eulogius for her heir.


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