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When years thy judgment shall mature, Tell me, thou Syren Hope, deccirer, say, And Reason thew's thofe ills it cannot cure, Where is the promis'd period of my woes?
Wilt thou, a father's grief t' assuage, Full three long, ling'ring years have rollid 1825, For virtue prove the Phænix of the earth And yet I weep, a stranger to repole : (Like her, thy mother died to give thee birth), o what delusion did thy tongue chaplos! And be the comfort of my age ? :
“ That Emma's fatal pledge of love, When fick and languishing I lie,
“ Her last bequest, with all a mother's cart,
“ The bitternels of sorrow should remove, Wilt thou my Emma's wontcu care supply?
“ Soften the horrors of despair, And, oft as to thy liftening car
* And cheer a heart long lost to joy !" Thy mother's virtues and her fate I tell,
How oft, when fondling in my arms,
Gazing enraptur'd on its angel-face,
My soul the maze of Fate would vaidly trice, Then, fondly stealing to thy father's fide,
And burn with all a father's foje! alarms! Whene'er thou feeii the loft distress, Which I would vaiply seek to hide,
And oh what fate'ring scenes had fancy frigod! Say, wilt thou strive to make it less :
How did I rave of blessings yet in fiore ! Tooth my forrows all thy cares employ,
Till ev'ry aching sense was sweetly pain'd,
And my full heart could bear, nor tuocx And in my cup of grief infule une drop of joy?
could utter more. • Just Heaven!''I cried, with recent hopes elate
, 9 105. An Evening Addiefs 10 a Vigbtingale. Yet will I live will live,tho' Emma's dad:
Shaw." So long bow'd down beneath the storms of lite, S WEET bird! that, kindly perching near,
“ Yit will I raise my woe-dejceed bead! Poureit thy plaints melodious in mine car,
• My little Emma, now my all,
“ Will want a father's care; Not, like kale worldlings, tutor'dl to forego The melancholy haunts of woe; ** Iler looks, her wants, my rath resolves recall
, Thanks for thy forrow-foothing frain :
“ And for her fake the ills of life I'll bear: For, furely, thou hast known to prove,
“ And ott together we 'll complain, Like me, the pangs of hapless love;
Complaint the only bliss my loul can knom. Elfe why to feelingly complain, [grove :
“ From me my child ihall learn the mournful And with thy piteous notes thus fadden all the
“ And prattle tales of woe. Say, dust chou mourn thy ravish'd mate,
“ And, oh! in that auspicious hour, That ofc enamour'd on thy strains has hung: “ When Fate resigns her persecuting pow's, Or has the cruel hand of Fate
« With dutcous zeal her hand thall clcre, Bercft thee of thy darling young ?
“ No more to weep, my sorrow-streaming eyes, Alas! for both I weep :
“ When death gives mifery repose, In all the pride of youthful charms,
“ And opes a glorious partage to the skies.” A beauteous bride forn from my circling arms ! A lovely babe that should have liv'd to bless, Vain thought! it must not be the too is dead,
And fill my doting eyes with frequent tears, The flatt'ring scene is o'er ;
The flattering prop of my declining years ! And vengeance can no more,
By ev'ry art that science could devise; And none none left to bear a friendly part ! Alas! it languith'd for a mother's aid, To meditate my welfare, health, or eafe,
And wing'd its Hight to seek her in the skies. Or footh the anguilh of an aching heart! Then, oh! our comforts be the fame, Now all one gloomy scene, till welcome death, At evening's peaceful hour,
With lenient hand (oh falsely deem'd severe), To sun che noily paths of wealth and fame, Shall kindly stop my grief-exhausted breath, And breathe our sorrows in this lonely
And dry up ev'ry tear. bow'r.
Perhaps, obsequious to my will, But why, alas! to thee complain,
But, ah! from my affections far remor'd! To thei-unconscious of my pain !
The last fad office strangers may fulfil, Soon shalt thou cease to mourn thy lot severe,
As if I ne'er had been belov'd; And hail the dawning of a happier year:
As if, unconscious of poetic fire, The gevial warmth of joy-renewing spring
I ne'er had touch'd the trembling lyre; Again thall pluine thy snatter'd wing;
As if my niggard hand ne'er dealt relief, Again thy little heart shall transport prove,
Nor my heart melted at another's grief. Again thall How thy notes responsive to thy Yet, while this weary life shall last, But, oh! for me in vain may seasons roll, [love. While yet my tongue can form th' impaffon'd Nought can dry up the fountain of my icars :
strain, Deploring till the comfort of my soul,
In piteous accents shall the mufe complain, I count my sorrows by increasing years. And dwell with fond delay on blessings pui:
For oh how grateful to a wounded heart Fir'd with a zeal peculiar, they defy
The rage and rigour of a polar sky,
And raise esteem upon the base of woe ! On icy plains, and in eternal fnows.
Oh bleft within th'inclosure of
rocks, Shall deign my love-lorn tale to hear, Nor herds have ye to boast, nor bleating Rocks; Shall catch the loft contagion of my fong, No fertilizing streams your fields divide, And pay my pensive Mufe the tribuce of a tear. That shew revers'd the villas on thcir fide;
No groves have ye; no cheerful sound of bird, § 106. An Ode to Narcissa. SMOLLET.
Or voice of turtle, in your land is heard;
Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell
Of thote that walk at ev'ning where you dwell: I feel thy soft, resistless fame
But winter, arm'd with terrors here unknown,
Sits absolute on his unthaken throne; Glide swift thro' all my vital frame !
Piles up his stores amidst the frozen waste, For while I gaze my bosom glows,
And bids the mountains he has built stand fast; My blood in rides impetuous Hows;
Beckons the legions of his forms away Hope, fear, and jov alternate roll,
From happier Icenes, to make your land a prey ; And fioods of tranfport whelm my soul ! Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won, My falt'ring tongue attempts in vain
And scorns to share it with the distant fun. In soothing murinurs to complain ;
Yet truth is yours, remote, unenvied ise ; My tongue fome secret magic ties,
And peace, the genuine offspring of her smile; My murmurs sink in broken fighs !
The pride of letter'd ignorance, that binds Condemnd to nurse eternal care,
In chains of error our accomplish'd minds; And ever drop the filent tcar;
That decks with all the splendour of the true Unheard I mourn, unknown I figh,
A false religionis unknown to you.
Nature indeed vouchlafes for our delight
Soft airs and genial moisture feed and cheer § 107. Elegy in Imitation of Tibullus.
Field, fruit, and flow'r, and ev'ry creature here; SMOLLET.
But brighter beams than his who fires the skics WHERE now are all my flattering dreams of Have ris'n at length on your admiring eyes,
That shoot into your darkest caves the day Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest : From which our nicer optics turn away. Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye, Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast ! $ 109.Pn Slavery, andtbe Slave Trade. Cow PER. Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call, BUT, an!, what wish can prosper, or what With festive songs beguile the Aceting hour,
pray'r, Lead beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,
For merchants rich in cargoes of defpair, Or press her wanton in love's roseate bow'r. Who drive a loathlome traffic, gage and span, For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead, The tender ties of father, husband, friend,
And buy the muscles and the bones of man ? Where thepherds pipe and virgins dance around, All bonds of nature in that moment end; Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade, And each endures, while yet he draws his breath, To hear the music of the grove
A stroke as fatal as the scythe of death. I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall, The fable warrior. fraotic with regret Where fancy paints the glimm*ring taper blue, Of her he loves, and never can forget, Where damps hang inould'ring on the ivy'd wall, Loses in tears the far-receding shore, And theeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew : But not the thought that they must ineet no more. There, leagued with hopelefs anguish and despair, Depriv'd of her and freedom at a blow, Awhile in filence o'er my fate repine :
What has he left that he can yer forego ? Then, with a long farewell to love and care,
Yes, to deep fadness fullenly resignd, To kindred dust my weary limbs consyn.
He feels his body's bondage in his mind;
Puts off his gen'rous nature, and, to fuit Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear
His manners with his fate, puts on the brute. On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest;
Oh must degrading of all ills that wait Serew vernal flow'ss, applaud my love fincere,
On man, a mourner in his best estate! And bid the turf lie easy on my breast ? All other sorrows virtue may endure,
And find submission more than half a cure; & 108. Tbe Propagation of tbe Gospel in Greenland. Grief is itself a med'cine, and bestow'd
Cow PER. T'improve the fortitude that bears a load ;
Butllarivi--vistic dreads it as her grave; To quit the bliss thy rural scenes beftow,
To leck a nobler amidst scenes of wot;
To traverse feas, range kingdoms, and bring home, Bid fufter it awhile, and kits the rod;
Not the proud monuments of Greece or Kars, Wait for the dawning of a brighter day, But knowledge such as only dungeons teab, And snap the chain the moment when you may. And only sympathy like thine could reach; Narurc iinprints upon whate'er we fec, That grief, requester'd from the public itage, Tlaat has a heart and life in it, Be frec! Might smooth her feathers, and enjoy her ca The beatis are charter'd--peither age nor force Speaks a divine ambition, and a zeal Can quell the love of freedom in a horse : The boldes patriot might be proud to fuel. lle breaks the cord that held him at the rack, Oh that the voice of camour and debate, And, conscious of an uncncumber'd back, That pleads for peace till it difturbs the fate, Snuifs up the morning air, forgets the rein,
Were hushi in favour of thy gen'rous plea, Leofe fiy his forelock and his ample inane ;
poor thy clients, and Heaven's smile thy feel Responlive to the distant neigh he neighs, Nor stops till, overleaping all delays,
§ 117. On Domestic Happiness, as ibe Frized
Virtue, and of the fulpe Good-nature of
COFFEE . s 110. On Liberty, and in Praije of Mr. Hozword. DOMESTIC happiness, thou only blis
Cowper Of Paradise fall! H could I worship aught bencath the skies, Tho' few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure,
That earth hath seen or fancy could devise, Or, tasting, long enjoy thee; too infirm Thire altar, sacred Liberty, should fand, Or too incautious to preserve thy fiveets Buile by no mercenary, vulgar hand,
Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect With fragrant turf and flow'rs as wild and fair Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup. As ever dress'd a bank, or scented summer air. Thou art the nurse of virtue. In thine arms Duly as ever on the mountain's height
She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, The peep of morning lhed a dawning light;
Heaven-born, and destin'd to the skies again. Again, when evening in her sober vest
Thou art not known where Pleasure is adoré, Drew the grev curtain of the fading Weft; That recling goddess with the zoneless waith My louishould yield thee willing thanks and praise And wand'ring eyes, fill leaning on the arm For the chief blessings of my fai rest days : Of Novelty, her tickle frail suppert ; But that were sacrilege-praise is not thine,
For thou art meek and constant, hating changes, But his who gave thee, and preserves thee mine:. And finding in the calm of truth-tied love Elle I would say, and as I spake bid fly
Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. A captive bird into the boundless íky,
Fortaking thee, what shipwreck have we made This -iple realm adores thee-thou art come Of honour, dignity, and fair renown, From Sparta hither, and art here at home; Till prostitution elbows us aside We feel thy force still active, at this hour In all our crowded streets, and senates seem Enjov immunity from prickly pow'r;
Conven'd for purpofęs of empire less While conscience, happier than in ancient years, Than to relcale th' adult'ress from her bond! Oins po superior but the God the fears. Th' adult'refs! what a theme for angry verleg I'ropitious Spirit, vet expunge a wrong
What provocation to th' indignant heart Thy rites have suffer'd, and our land, too long; That feels for injur'd love ! But I d flain Teach mercy to ten thousand hearts that share The nauseous taík to paint her as the is, The fears and hopes of a commercial care : Cruel, abandon'd, gloying in her shame. Prisons expect the wicked, and were built No. Let her pass; and, charioted along, To bind the lawless, and to punith guilt; In guilty Splendour shake the public ways: But ship vreck, earthquake, battle, fire and flood, The frequency of crimes has wath'd them white; Are mighty mischiefs, not to be with tood; And verle of mine shali never brand the wretch And honçit merit stands on flipp'ry ground, Whom matrons now of character unsmirch'd, Where covert guile and artifice abound : And chafe themfibres, are not abamd to on 3. Let just restraint, for public peace design'd, Virtue and vice had bourd'ries in old time Chain up the wolves and tigers of mankind; Not to be pafsd: and the that had renounc'd The foe of virtue has no claim to thee,
ler fex's honour, was renounc'd herself But let insolvent innocence go free.
By all that priz'd it; not for Prudery's fake, Patron of else the most despis'd of men,
But Dignity's releatful of the stong. Accept the tribute of a stranger's pen ; 'Twas liard perhaps on here and there a waif Verle, like the laurel its immortal meed, Desirous to return, and not receivid; Should be the guerdon of a noble deed : But was an wholesome rigour in the main, I may alarm thee, but I fear the shame
And taught th’unblcroith'd to preserve with care (Charity chosen as my theme and aim) That purity, whole loss was lols.of all. I must incur, forgetting Howard's name. Men too were pice in honour in those days, Bleft with all wealth can give thee-to refign And judgid offenders kell: and he that iharp, jo;s doubly sweet to foolings quick as thine ; And pockcted a prise by fraud obtain'd,
Was mark'd and thunn'd as odious. He that sold | Bestrides the wint'sy flood, in which the moon
True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind, So liberal in construction, and so rich
Yet careless what he brings, his one concern In Christian charity, a good-natur'd age !
Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn; That they are tafe ; finners of either lex [bred, And, having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass oo. Transgress what laws they may. Well dress’d, weil He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Well equipag'd, is ticket good enough Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief To pass us readily through ev'ry door. Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to fome; Hypocrify, deteft her as we may,
To himn indiff'rent whether grief or joy. (And no man's hatred ever wrong'd her yet) Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, May claim this merit still, that the admits Births, deaths, and marriagcs, epistles wet The worth of what the mimics with such care, With tears that trickled down the writer's checks And thus gives virtue indirect applause. Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, But she has burnt her masks, not nceded here, Or charg'd with am'rous fighs of ab'ont rivains, Where vice has such allowance, that her shifts Or nymphs responsive, equally affect And specious semblances heve lost their use. His horie and him, unconscious of them all.
But oh th' important budget! uther'd in $112. On tbe Employments of wbat is called an With fuch heart-shaking music, who can say Idle Life.
CowPER. What are its tidings : have our troops awak'd ? How various his employments whom the world Or do they drill
, as if with opium drugg'd,
of th? Esteems that busy world an idler too!
Is India free? and does the wear her plum'd Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his peo, And jewell'd turban with a smile of peace, Delightful industry enjoy'd at home,
Or do we grind her ftill? The grand debate, And nature in her cultivated trim
The popular harangue, the tart reply, Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, Can he want occupation who has these? And the loud laugh--l long to know them all; Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy! I burn to set th' imprison'd wranglers free, Me therefore, studious of laborious eale, And give them voice and utt'rance once again. Not flothful; happy to deceive the time,
Now ftir the fire and close the shutters faft, Not waste it; and aware that human life Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa, round, Is but a loan to be repaid with use,
And while the bubbling and loud-hilling urn When He shall call his debtors to account Throws up a steamy column, and the cups From whom are all our bletlings-businels finds That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, Ev'n here. While fedulous I seek t'improve, So let us welcome peaceful ev’ning in. At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd, Not fuch his ev'ning who wich Mining face The mind lie gave me; driving it, though Nack Swears in the crowded theatre, and squeezid, Too oft, and much impeded in its work And bord with elbow-points thro' both his fides, By causcs not to be divuly'd in vain,
Outfcolds the raðsing actor on the stage. To its just point-the service of mankind. Nor his, who patient stands till his fect throb, He that attends to his interior self,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath That has a heart, and keeps it; has a mind Of patriots bursting with heroic ragc,
That hungers, and supplies it; and who seeks Or placemen all tranquillity and miles.
This folio of four pages, happy work!
Inquisitive attention while I read
Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge Or dives not for it, or brings up instead, That tempts ambition. On the summit, tee, Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize.
The seals of office glitter in his eyes; [heels,
He climbs, he pants, he grasps them. Ac his
Cow PER And wins them, but to lose them in his turn.
Meanders lubricate the course they take: That with its wearisome but necdful length The modest speaker is asham'd and griev'd,
T'engross a nioment's notice; and yet begs, And there, at utmost stretch of eye,
While, winding round, diffus d and deep,
Of human art no traces near,
I seein alone with nature here !
Here are thy walks, O sacred Health !
The vivid pulse, the vermeil grace,
O fun of life, whose heavenly ray Sermons and city feasts, and fav’rite airs, Lights up and cheers our various day, Æthereal journeys, submarine exploits, The turbulence of hopes and fears, And Katterfelto with his hair on end
The form of fate, the cloud of years,
'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat Repofes late in Death's calm night:
Or, on the brow of mountain high,
With song and prospect which abound
(All nature Gck'ning in the blaze), From flow'r to fiow'r, so he from land to land; Thou in the wild and woody maze The manners, customs, policy of all
That clouds the vale with umbrage deep
Wilt find betiines a calm retreat,
There plung 'd amid the shadows brown,
The warbling hill, the lowing vale;
The distant woodman's echoing stroke; § 114. A Fragment. Mallet.
The thunder of the falling oak.
Blows lib'ral o'er yon bloomy heath, He holds high converse with the Dead;
And Shadowy skim before his eyes.
Hark! Orpheus strikes the lyre again, And breathe fresh life in ev'ry gale.
That soften a lavages to men: Here spreads a green expanse of plains,
Lo! Socrates, the Sent of Heaven, Where, fwcctly-penfive, Silence reins;
To whom its moral will was given.