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And much her righteous spirit grieves, Too various for one single word,
While ev'ry talent nature grants
Just ferves to thew how much the wants.
The virtucs of our sex and thine :
Her hand restrains the widow's tears; * But justice claims the rig'rous due ;
Her sense informs, and sooths, and cheers :
Yet, like an angel in ditguile,
She nincs but to foine favour'd eyes;
Nor is the diflant herd allow'd
To view the radiance thro' the cloud,
But thine is ev'ry winning art;
And should the gen'rous spirit flow
Beyond where prudence fears to go;
Such fallies are of nobler kind
Than virtues of a narrow mind.
101. Alexander's Feafl; ar tbe Porver of Muface Great precept, undefin'd by rule,
An Ode on St. Cecilia's Day. Dryden.
'TWAS at the royal feast, for Persia won,
By Philip's warlike fon :
Aloft in awful ftate
The godlike hero fate
On his imperial throne :
His valiant peers were plac'd around i
Their brows with roles and with myrtle bound; Secure from ev'ry mental woe,
So should defert in arms be crown'd, From treach'rous friend or open foe
The lovely Thais by his fide
Sat, like a blooming eastern bride,
In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride :
Happy, happy, happy pair ;
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.
Timotheus, plac'd on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes afcend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove;
Who left his blissful seats above,
Such is the pow'r of mighty love !
A dragon's ficry form belied the god :
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press'd,
And stamp'd an image of himielf, a fov'reign of
the world. Wide blank, unfceling when alone;
The list’ning crowd admire the lofty sound No care, no joy, no thought her own,
A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound :
With ravilh'd ears
The monarch bears,
Afumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.
The praise of Bacchus then the fiveet musician
fung; With patriots highs o'er Bricain's fare.
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
The jolly god in triumph comes ;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Fluth'd with a purple grace
He shows his honelt face.
Now' give the hautboys breath; he comes, he Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
Racchus ever fair and young [comes ! See the furies arise,
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,
Behuld a ghaftly band,
Each a torch in bis hand,
These are Grecian ghosts, that iv battle were Naia, Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain ;
And unburied remain Fought all his battles o'er again;
Inglorious on the plain;
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew :
Behold how they tofs their torches on high, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
How they point to the Perfian abodes, And, while he heaven and earth defied,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods !Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
The Princes applaud, with a furious joy; He chose a mournful muse,
And the King leiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to
[deftror; Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius great and good,
To light him to his prey, By too severe a fare,
And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Thus, long ago, Foll'n from his high eftate,
E'e hearing bellows learn’d to blow, And welt'ring in his blood;
While organs yet were mute ; Delirted at his utmost need
Timotheus to his breathing ilute By those his former bounty fed,
And founding lyre On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft deire. With not a friend to close his eyes.
Ar lafi divine Cecilia caine, With downcast look the joyless victor fate, Inrentress of the vocal frame; Revolving in his alter'd soul
The sweet enthusiast, from her facred ftore, The various turns of fate below;
Enlarg d the former narro
row bounds, And now and then a sigh he fule;
And added length to solemn founds, And tears began to flow.
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown be.
Let old Tiinotheus yield the prize, [fore. The mighty master (mil'd, to see
Or both divide the crown; That love was in the next degree :
He rais'd a mortal to the skies, 'Twas bur a kindred sound to move;
She drew an angel down. For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, § 102. An Epiftle, from Mr. Phillips to tbe Earla Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
Doset. Copenbagen, March 9, 1709. War he sung is toil and trouble ; Honour but an empty bubble ;
FROM frozen climes, and endless tracts of snor,
From strcams that northern winds forbid to
What present thall the Muse to Dorset bring, Think, oh think it worth enjoying!
Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to fing?
The hoary winser here conccals from light
All pleasing objects that to verse invite.
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods, rend the skies with loud applause ; The flow'ry plains, and filver streaming floods,
many So love was crown'd, but music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
By snow disguis d, in bright confufion Tie, Gaz'd on the fair
And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye. Who caus'd his care,
No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring, And ligh'd and louk'd, figh'd and look'd,
No birds within the desert region fing. Sighid and look’d, and ligh'd again :
The thips, unmov'd, the boift'rous winds defy, Ar length, with love and wine at once oppressd, The vast Leviathan wants room to play,
While ratiling chariots o'er the ocean fly. The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breaft.
And spout his waters in the face of day. Now strike the golden lyre again ;
The starving wolves along the main lea pros!, And louder yıt, and yet a louder strain. And to the moon in icy valleys howl. Break his hands of seep alunder,
For many a shining league the level main And rouse hiin, like a rattling peal of thunder. Here spreads itself into a glasly plain : Hark, hark, the horrid sound
There solid billows, of enormous fize, Has rais'd up his head,
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rile.
And yet but lately have I feen, e'en here,
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow,
She vifits oft the hamlet cot, Or winds begun thro' hazy skies to blow,
When Want and Sorrow are the lot
Of Avarice and me.
Shot ludden thro'the groves ;
Behold, behold, in loole array,
More mild than Paphian doves!
's qucen! While thro' the ice the crimfon berries glow.
And see, along the velvet green
The jocund train advance :
The wood-nymph's dew-bcspangled hair
Plays in the sportive dance.
A foul alive to joy!
And leave th'unguarded heart a prey
To cares that prace destroy.
Reality remains !
And horror drives without controul,
Like fome deluded pealavt Merlin leads
Ten thousand beauties round me throng;
To the distempérd foul?
I see the lawp of hideous dye; And, while he thinks the fair illusion true,
The towering elm nods mifery; The trackless scenes disperse in fluid air,
With groans the waters roll. And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways appcar: Ye gilded roofs, Palladian domes, d tedious road the weary wretch returns,
Ye vivid tints of Persia's looms, And, as he goes, the tranñent vision mourns. Ye were for mifery made.
'Twas thus the Man of Sorrow spoke;
His wayward step then pensive touk
$ 104. Monody to tbe Memory of a loung Ladly..
SHAW. Along the sale of flow'rs ! Ah! what avails the darkening grove, YET do I live? Oh how fhall. I fuftain Or Philomel's melodious love,
This vast unutterable weight of woe ? That glads the midnight hours !
This worse than hunger, poverty, or pain,
Or all the coinplicated ills below? For me, alas! the god of day
She, in whose life my hopes were treasur'd all, Ne'er glitters on the hawthorn spray,
Is gone--for ever fledNor night her comfort brings :
My dearest Emma 's dead; I have no pleasure in the role;
These eyes, these tear-swoln eyes beheld her fall. For me no vernal beauty blows,
Ah no—he lives on some far happier shore, Nor Philomela sings.
She lives—hut (cruel thought! ) the lives for me See how the sturdy peasants ftride Adown yon hillock's verdant side,
I, who the tedious absence of a day [figlit; In cheerful ignorance blest!
Remov'd, would languish for my charmer's Alike to them the rose or thorn,
Would chide the lingering moments for delay, Alike arises every morn,
And fondly blame the flow return of night ; By gay Contentment drest.
How, how shall I endure Content, fair daughter of the skies,
(O misery paft a curel) Or gives spontaneous, or denies,
Hours, days, and years, fucceffively to roll, Tier choice diyincly free :
Nor ever indre behold the comforç of my soul!
Was she not all my fondest wish could frame> But, ah ! in vain-no change of time or Did ever mind so much of heaven partake?
The memory can efface
[place Did the not love me with the purest Hame? Of all that sweetness, that enchanting air, And give up friends and fortune for my fake: Now loft ; and nought remains but anguila and Though mild as evening skies,
despair. With downcast, streaming eyes,
Where were the delegates of Hearen, oh where! Stood the stern frown of fupercilious brows, Deaf to their brutal thrcats, and faithful to her Had Innecence or Virtue been their care,
Appointed Virtue's children safe to keep?
She had not died, nor had I liv'd to weep: Come then, fome Muse, the saddest of the train
Mou'd by my tears, and by her patience mor'd, (No more your bard shall dwell on idle lays),
To fee her force th' endearing smile, Teach me each inoving inclancholy sirain,
My sorrows to beguile,
When Toiture's keenest rage the prov'd;
Which broke her thread of life, and rent a hul
band's heart. My soul may own th' impallion'd line:
How fail I e'er forget that dreadful hour, A Hond of tears may gush to my relief, (of grief. When, feeling Death's reliftlefs pow'r, And from my swelling heart discharge ihis load
My hand the press’d, wet with her falling tears, Forbear, my fond officious fricods, foi bear And thus, in falt’ring accents, spoke her fears !
To wound my cars with the fad rales you tell ; " Ah, my lov'd lord, the transient scene is o'er, “ How good she was, how gentle, and how fair!'
“ And we must part, alas ! to meet no more! In pity ccafc-alas! I know too well
" But oh! if e'er thy Emma's name was dear, How in her fiect expressive face
“ If e'er thy vows have charm'd my ravilh'd Beam'ù forth the beauries of her mind,
ear; Yet heighton'd by exterior grace,
“ If, from thy lov'd embrace my heart to gain, Of manners niort engaging, most rohn'd.
* Proud friends have frown'd, and Fortune fil'd
" in vain; No piteous object coiile fine see, But her (oft bofoni thard the woc,
“ If it has been my sole endeavour still While (miles of affability
“ To act in all obsequious to thy will; Endear'd avhatever boo? she might bestow. " To watch thy very smiles, thy with to know, What'cr th' emotions of her heart,
" Then only truly blest when thou wert so ; Sull ihone cor.fpicuous in her eyes,
“ If I have doted with that fond excess, Stranger to every tima!c art,
“ Nor lore could add, nor Fortune make it losi; Alike to foign or to difguile :
" If this I've done, and more-oh then be kind And, ob the boust how rare !
“ To the dear lovely babe I leave behind. The fecret in her fai hful breast repos'd “ When time my once-lov'd memory shall efface, She ne'er with lawless tongue disclos'u, “ Some happier maid may take thy Emma's In secret filence lovg'a inviolaie there.
“ place, Oh ficble words—unabic 10 express
“ With envious eyes thy partial fondness see, Her matchless virtucs, or my own distress!
“ And hate it for the love thou bor'ft to me:
My dearest Shaw, forgive a woman's fears; Rclentless death! that, steel'd to human woe,
“ But one word more-I cannot bear thy tearsWith murd'rous hands deais havoc on man
“ Promise--and I will trust thy faithful row kind.
(Oft harę I tried, and ever found the true) Wilis (cruel!) fizike this deprecated blow,
" That to fome diftant (por thou wilt remove And leave ruch wretched nultitudes beliind : « This fatal pledge of hapless Emma's love, Ilark! groans come wing'd on every breeze !
“ Where safe thy blandishments it may partake, The sons of grief picfur their ardent vow,
“ And, oh! be tender for its mother's lake. Oppress'd with forrow, want, or dire disease,
* Wilt thou?And supplicate thy aid, as I do now:
“ I know thou wilt--fad filence speaks allent ; In vain-perverse, lill on th' unweeting head
“ And in that pleafing hope thy Emma dies 'Tis thine hy vengeful darts to flied ;
“ content." Hope's infant blofioms to destroy, And drench in tears the fuce of joy.
!, who with more than manly strength have bare
The various ills impos'd by cruel Fate, But oh, fell tyrant! yet expect the hour Sustain the firmness of my soul no more, When Virtue thall renounce thy pow'r;
But sink beneath the weight :
[day When thou no more fhalı blot the face of day, Just Heaven! I cried, from memory's cai liest Nor mostals tremble at thy rigid sway.
No comfort has thy wretched suppliant keowa; Alas the day !- where'er I turn my eyes, Misfortune fill, with unrelenting fway, Some sad memento of my loss appears ;
Has claimd me for her own. I Hy the fatal houle-suppreis my disbs, But, oh! in pity to my grief, reliore Kesolv'd tu dry my unavailing tears : This only fource of blós; I alk-I ak no more
Vain hope-th' irrevocable doom is past,
Again with transport hear
Her voice soft whispering in my car;
But, ah! th’unwelcome morn's obtruding ligut When the stern tyrant clos'd her lovely eyes, Will all my shadowy schemes of bliss depoie,
How did I'rave, untaught to bear the blow! Will tear the dear illusion from my fight, With impious wish to tear her from the skies, And wake me to the sense of all my woes: How curse my fate in bitterness of woe !
If to the verdant fields I stray,
Her lovely form pursues where'er I go,
And daikens all the scene with woe. Dare not to talk what Heaven's high.will decreed; By Nature's lavith bounties cheer'd no more, In humble rey'rence kits th' afflictive rod,
Sorrowing I rove And proftrate bow to an offended God.
Through valley, grot, and grove ; Perhaps kind Heaven in mercy dealt the blow, Nought can their beauties or my loss restore ;
No herb, no plant, can med'cine my
disease, To wean thy heart froin grovelling vieivs below, And my fad lighs are borne on ev'ry palling
Sickness and forrow hov'ring round my bed, To Thew that all the flatt'ring schemes of joy,
Who now with anxious haste shall bring relief, Which tow'ring Hope fo fondly builds in air, With lenient hand support my drooping head, One fatal moment can destroy,
Afsuage my pains, and mitigate my grief ? And plunge th' exulting maniac in despair.
Should worldly business call away, Then, oh! with pious furtitude sustain
Who now shall in my absence fondly mourn, Thy present lofs--haply thy future gain;
Count ev'ry minute of the loit'ring day,
Impatient for my quick return?
Who now, with sweet complacent air,
Shall finooth the rugged brow of Care,
And soften all my woes?
Too faithful Memory-cease, oh cealem Torn from its native fields, and dearer mate,
How shall I e'er regain my peace ?
(Oh, to forget her!)—but how vain each art, But finding all its efforts weak and rain,
Whilst ev'ry virtue lives imprinted on my heart !
And thou, my litile cherub, left behind
To hear a father's plaints, to share his woes, Prunes its light wings, and pecks its food,
When Reason's dawn informs thy infant mind, And meditates the song:
And thy sweet lisping tongue shall ask the cause, Serenely sorrowing, breathes its piteous case,
How oft with sorrow shall mine eyes run o'er, And with its plaintive warblings faddens all
When, twining round my knees, I trace the place.
Thy mother's (mile upon thy face !
How oft to my full heart shalt thou restore Forgive me, Heaven !--yet, yet the tears will now, Sad mem'ry of my joys-ah, now no more !
To think how foon my scene of bliss is past / By blessings once enjoy’d now more distress’d,
More beggar by the riches once poffess'd,
By all the tears thou'st caus'd-oh strange to
hear! Where's now the sprightly jest, the jocund Bought with a life yet dearer than thy own, Time creeps, unconscious of delighi::
Thy cradle purchas'd with thy mother's biot: How shall I cheat the tedious day ;
Who now shall seek with fond delight
Thy infant steps to guide aright?
She, who with doting eyes would gaze
On all thy little artless ways,
To my torn heart its former peace restere ; And clasp thee oft with transport to her breast,
Alas! is gone -yet shalt thou prove
A father's deareft, tenderest love;