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Each melting figh, and every tender tear, The lover's withes, and the virgin's fear. His every ftrain the Smiles and Graces own; But ftronger Shakspeare felt for man alone: Drawn by his pen, our ruder paffions stand Th' unrivall'd picture of his early hand.

With gradual steps, and flow, exacter France Saw Art's fair empire o'er her fhores advance; By length of toil a bright perfection knew, Correctly bold, and just in all the drew. Till late Corneille, with ‡ Lucan's spirit fir'd, Breath'd the free ftrain, as Rome and he infpir'd: And claffic judgment gain'd to fweet Racine The temperate ftrength of Maro's chafter line. But wilder far the British laurel spread, And wreaths lefs artful crown our poet's head. Yet he alone to every fcene could give Th' hiftorian's truth, and bid the manners live. Wak'd at his call, I view with glad furprize Majestic forms of mighty monarchs rife. There Henry's trumpets fpread their loud alarms, And laurell'd Conqueft waits her hero's arins. Here gentler Edward claims a pitying figh, Scarce born to honours, and fo foon to die! Yet fhall thy throne, unhappy infant, bring No beam of comfort to the guilty king:

The time fhall come when Glo'fter's heart fhall bleed,

In life's laft hours, with horror of the deed:
When dreary vifions fhall at laft prefent
Thy vengeful image in the midnight tent;
Thy hand unfeen the fecret death shall bear,
Blunt the weak fword, and break th' oppreffive
fpear.

-And fee, where § Anthony, in tears approv'd,
Guards the pale relics of the chief he lov'd:
O'er the cold corfe the warrior feems to bend,
Deep funk in grief,and mourns his murder'dfiiend!
Still as they prefs, he calls on all around,
Lifts the torn robe, and points the bleeding wound.
But who is he whofe brows exalted bear
A wrath impatient, and a fiercer air?
Awake to all that injur'd worth can feel,
On his own Rome he turns th' avenging fteel.
Yet fhall not war's infatiate fury fall,
(So heaven ordains it) on the deftin'd wall.
See the fond mother, 'midft the plaintive train,
Hang on his knees, and proftrate on the plain!
Touch'd to the foul, in vain he ftrives to hide
The fon's affection in the Roman's pride:
O'er all the man conflicting paffions rife,
Rage grafps the fword, while pity melts the eyes.

Thus, generous Critic, as thy bard infpires,
The fifter Arts fhall nurfe their drooping fires;
Each from his fcenes her ftores alternate bring,
Blend the fair tints, or wake the vocal string:
Thofe Sibyl-leaves, the fport of every wind,
(For poets ever were a carelefs kind)
By thee difpos'd, no farther toil demand,
But, juft to nature, own thy forming hand.

So fpread o'er Greece, th' harmonious whole
unknown,

Ev'n Homer's numbers charm'd by parts alone;
Their own Ulyffes fcarce had wander'd more,
By winds and waters caft on every fhore:
When, rais'd by fate, fome former Hanmer join'd
Each beauteous image of the boundlets mind;
And bade, like thee, his Athens ever claim
A fond alliance with the Poet's name.

Where'er we turn, by fancy charm'd, we find
Some fweet illufion of the cheated mind.
Oft, wild of wing, the calls the foul to rove
With humbler nature, in the rural grove;
Where fwains contented own the quiet fcene,
And twilight fairies tread the circled green:
Drefs'd by her hand, the woods and valleys fmile,TO
And spring diffusive decks th' enchanted ifle.

O, more than all in powerful genius bleft,
Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breaft!
Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart thall feel,
Thy fongs fupport me, and thy morals heal!
There every thought the poet's warmth may raife,
There native mufic dwells in all the lays.
O, might fome verfe with happiest skill perfuade
Expresive Picture to adopt thine aid!
What wondrous draughts might rife from every

page!

What other Raphaels charm a diftant age!

Methinks ev'n now I view fome free defign, Where breathing Nature lives in every line: Chafte and fubdued the modeft lights decay, Steal into shades, and mildly inelt away.

212. Dirge in Cymbeline, fung by Guiderus and Arviragus over Fidele, fupfofed to be dead. COLLINS.

fair Fidele's graffy tomb

Soft maids and village hinds fhall bring
Each opening fweet, of earlieft bloom,
And rifle all the breathing Spring.
No wailing ghoft fhall dare appear

To vex with fhrieks this quiet grove;
But fhepherd lads affemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch fhall here be feen,

The female fays thall haunt the green,
No goblins lead their nightly crew;

And dreis thy grave with pearly dew.
The red-breast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary mofs, and gather'd flov 'rs,

The characters are thus diftinguished by Mr. Dryden.

To deck the ground where thou art laid.

+ About the time of Shakspeare, the poet Hardy was in great repute in France. He wrote, according to Fontenelle, fix hundred plays. The French poets after him applied themfelves in general to the correct improvement of the ftage, which was almost totally difregarded by thofe of our own country, Jonfon excepted.

The favourite author of the elder Corncille.

See the tragedy of Julius Cæfar.

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Where lowly winds the ftealing wave! The year's beft fweets fhall duteous rife, To deck its Poet's fylvan grave!

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yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp fhall now be laid, That he, whofe heart in forrow bleeds,

May love through life the foothing fhade. Then maids and youths fhall Finger here, And, while its founds at diftance fwell, Shall fadly feem in Pity's ear

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. Remembrance oft fhall haunt the fhore

When Thames in fummer wreaths is dreft, And oft fufpend the dafhing oar

To bid his gentle spirit reft!
And oft as Eafe and Health retire

To breezy lawn, or foreft deep,
The friend shall view you whitening + spire,
And 'mid the varied landscape weep:
But thou, who own'ft that carthy bed,
Ah! what will every dirge avail?
Or tears, which Love and Pity fled,

That mourn beneath the gliding fail!
Yet lives there one whofe heedlefs eye
Shall fcorn thy pale fhrine glimmering near?
With him, fweet bard, may Fancy die,

And Joy defert the blooming year. But thou, lorn ftream, whofe fullen tide

No fudge-crown'd fifters now attend,
Now waft me from the green hill's fide
Whofe cold turf hides the buried friend!
And fee, the fairy valleys fade,

Dun Night has veil'd the folemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted thade,
Meek nature's child, again adieu !
The genial meads aflign'd to bless
Thy life, thall mourn ti.y early doom!
Their hinds and thepherd girls fhall dref's
With fimple hands thy rural tomb.
Long, long, thy ftone and pointed clay
Shall melt the mufing Briton's eyes:

O vales, and wild woods, fhall he say, in yonder grave your Druid lies!

$214. Verfes written on a Paper which c COLLINS. tained a piece of Bride-Cake. E curious hands, that, hid from vulgar eyes, ! By fearch profane fhall find this hallow d

Y

cake, With virtue's awe forbear the facred prize,

Nor dare a theft for love and pity's fake! This precious relic, form'd by magic pow'r, Beneath the fhepherd's haunted pillow laid, Was meant by love to charm the filent hour, The fecret prefent of a matchiefs maid. The Cyprian queen, at Hymen's fond requeft, Each nice ingredient chofe with happiest art; Fears, fighs, and wishes of th' enamour'd bruk, And pains that please, are mix'd in every part With rofy hand the fpicy fruit fhe brought,

From Paphian hills, and fair Cytheria's ife; And temper'd fweet with these the melting thought,

The kifs ambrofial, and the yielding smile. Ambiguous looks, that fcorn and yet relent; Denials mild, and firm unalter'd truth. Reluctant pride, and amorous faint consent,

And meeting ardours, and exulting youth. Sleep, wayward God! hath fworn, while thes remain,

With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear; And cheerful hope, fo oft invok'd in vain,

With fairy fongs fhall footh his penfive ear. If, bound by vows to friendship's gentle fide, And fond of foul, thou hop ft an equal grace, If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide, O much entreated leave this fatal place. Sweet Peace, who long hath fhunn'd my plaistive day,

Confents at length to bring me fhort delight; Thy carclefs fteps may feare her doves away, And Grief with raven note ufurp the night.

BURNS

$215. To a Morfe, on turning ber up in her nå
with the Plough, November 1785.
WEE, feckit, cowrim, tim'rous beaftic,
O, what a pannic's in thy breaftie !
Thou need na ftart awa fae haity,
Wi' bickering brattle!

I wad be laith to rin an' chrafe thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly forry man's dominion
Has broken nature's focial union,
An' juftifies that ill opinion,

Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

The harp of Æolus, of which fee a defeription in the Castle of Indolence.
+ Mr. Thomfon was buried in Richmond church.

+ Mr. Thomason reßded in the neighbourhood of Richmond fome time before his death.

I doubt

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beaftie, thou maun live! A diamen-icker in a thrave

'S a fina' request;

I'll get a bleflin wi' the lave,

An' never mifs't!

Thy wee bit bonfie, too, in ruin !
Its filly wa's the wins are ftrewin;
An' naething, now, to big a new and
O' foggage green!

An' bleak December's wind, enfuin,
Baith fnell and keen

Thou saw the field laid bare and wafte,
An' weary winter comin faft,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,.
Thou thought to dwell,
Till, crafh! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' ftibble,
Has colt thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But houfe or hald,

To thole the winter's fleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Moufie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving forefight may be vain:
The beft-laid (chemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley,

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The prefent only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward caft my e'e
On profpects drear!

An' forward, tho' I canna fee,
I guels an' fear.

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Adorns the hiftie ftibble-field,
Unfeen, alane.

There, in thy fcanty mantle clad,
Thy fnawie bolom fun-ward fpread,
Thou lifts thy unafiuming head
In humble guife;

But now the bare up tears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

Such is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet flouret of the rural fhade!
By love's fimplicity betray'd,

And guilelefs trust,

Till fhe, like thee, all foil'd, is laid
Low i' the duft.

Such is the fate of fimple bard,
On Life's rough ocean lucklefs starr'd!
Unikilful he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o'er!

Such fate to fuffering Worth is giv'n,
Who long with wants and woes has ftriv'n,
By human pride or cunning driv'n
To Mis'ry's brink,

Till wrench'd of every ftay but Heaven,
He, ruin'd, fink!

Ev'n thou who mourn'ft the Daify's fate,
That fate is thine-no diftant date;
Stern ruin's plough-fbare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,

Till, crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,
Shall be thy doom!

§ 217.

An Epifle to Thomas Lambard, Efq.

FENTON. "Omnia me tua delectant; fed maxime, maxima cum fides in amicitia, confilium, gravitas, conftantia; tum leros, humanitas, "literac." CICERO, Ep. xxvii. Lib. xi,

SLOW though I am to wake the fleeping lyre,
Yet fhould the Mufe fome happy fong inipire,
Fit for a friend to give, and worthy thee,
That favourite verfe to Lambard I decrce :
Such may the Mufe infpire, and make it prove
A pledge and monument of lafting love!

Meantime, intent the faireft plan to find,
To form the manners, and improve the mind,
Me the fam'd wits of Rome and Athens please,
By Orrery's indulgence wrapp'd in eafe;
Whom all the rival Mufes ftrive to grace
With wreaths familiar to his letter'd race.
Now Truth's bright charms employ my ferious
thought,

In flowing eloquence by Tully taught:
Then from the fhades of Tufculum 1 rove,
And ftudious wander in the Grecian grove;
While wonder and delight the foul engage
To found the depths of Plato's facred page;
Where Science in attractive fable lies,
And, veil'd, the more invites her lover's eyes.
Tranfported thence, the flow'ry heights I gain
Of Pindus, and admire the warbling train,

Whofe

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aghts I now compofe, honeft profe. of Cefar's praife, with immortal bays; spoil poetic sport, Alexandrine fhort:

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lafting itch than mine, cadence of a golden line: fverfe prevail, and urge the man ting race the boy began, with fixty winters, you might fee end in fecond infancy.

long an aukward humour have,
wear my bells and coral to the grave;
and my room alternate take a course,
mount my hobby, then the Mufes' horfe.

Lethers wither gay, but I'd appear
ith fage decorum in my eafy chair;
Grave as Libanius, flumbering o'er the laws,
Whilft gold and party zeal decide the caufe.

A nobler task our riper age affords
Than fcanning fyllables, and weighing words.
To make his hours in even meafures flow,
Nor think fome fleet too faft, and fome too flow;
Still equal in himfelf, and free to tafte
The Now, without repining at the Paft;
Nor the vain prefcience of the fpleen t' employ,
To pall the flavour of a promis'd joy;
To live tenacious of the golden mean,
In all events of various fate forene;
With virtue fteel'd, and steady to furvey
Age, death, difeafe, or want, without difmay-
Thefe arts, my Lambard! ufeful in their end,
Make man to others and himself a friend.

* Epit. 1. Lib. 1.

O vales, and wild w in yonder grav

§ 214.

tained o

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, bloom enjor; plenty bleft, et in his breaft! no fear appals, ourts enthrals, concerted guile dermining imile; n affectation free, hrough clear fimplicity, abours of the Perfian loom, culptor's art, adorn his room, "ok'd will foftly feal his eyes, ocence the want of down fupplies; 1 tempers all his cups, and at his board gns the cheap luxury the fields afford: Like the great Trojan, mantled in a cloud, Himself unfeen he fees the labouring crowd, Where all induftrious to their ruin run, Swift to purfue what most they ought to fhe Some, by the fordid thirft of gain control'd, Starve in their ftores, and cheat themselves fr gold, Preferve the precious bane with anxious care In vagrant lufts to feed a lavish heir: Others devour Ambition's glittering bait, To fweat in purple, and repine in ftate; Devote their pow'rs to every wild extreme For the fhort pageant of a pompous dream> Nor can the mind to full perfection bring The fruits it early promis'd in the spring; But in a public fphere thofe virtues fade, Which open'd fair and flourish'd in the fhade: So while the Night her ebon fceptre fways, Her fragrant blooms the + Indian plant dilpları But the full day the short-liv'd beauties fhun, Elude our hopes, and ficken at the fun.

Fantastic joys in diftant views appear, And tempt the man to make the rash career. Fame, Pow'r, and Wealth, which glitter at the go, Allure his eye, and fire his eager foul; For thefe are eafe and innocence refign'd, For thefe he ftrips; farewel the tranquil mind! Headstrong he urges on till vigour fails, And grey experience (but too late!) prevails. But, in his evening, view the hoary fool, When the nerves flacken, and the fpirits cool; When joy and blushy youth forfake his face, Sicklied with age, and four with felf-difgrace; No flavour then the fparkling cups retain, Mufic is harsh, the Syren fings in vain; To him what healing balm can art apply, Who lives difeas'd with life, and dreads to die! In that last scene, by Fate in fables drefs'd, Thy power, triumphant Virtue! is confefs'd; Thy veftal flames diffufe celeftial light Through Death's dark vale, and vanquish al night;

Lenient of anguifh, o'er the breaft prevail, When the gay toys of flattering Fortune fail Such, happy Twilden! (ever be thy name Mourn'd by the Mufe, and fair in deathlefs fame)

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AND MISCELLANEOUS.

nce of her glory fhone,
Guch I with my own:
ich perfumes,
confumes.

'as'dt'impart,

Each would variety of acts afford,
Fit for fome new Cervantes to record.

261

Whither, you cry, tends all this day difcourfe?
To prove, like Hudibras, a man's no horie.
I look'd for fparkling lines, and fomething gay
To frisk my fancy with; but footh, to fay!
From her Apollo now the Mufe elopes,
as'd. And trades in fyllogifms more than tropes.
Faith, Sir, I fee you nod, but can't forbear;
When a friend reads, in honour you must hear:
For all enthufiafts, when the fit is strong,
Indulge a volubility of tongue:

Their fury triumphs o'er the men of phlegm,
And, council-proof, will never baulk a theme.
So Burgefs on his tripod rav'd the more,
When round him half the faints began to fnore.
To lead us fafe through Error's thorny maze,
Reafon exerts her pure ethereal rays;
But that bright daughter of eternal day
Holds in our mortal frame a dubious fway.
Though no lethargic fumes the brain invett,
And opiate all her active pow'rs to reft;
Though on that magazine no fevers feize,
To calcine all her beauteous images:
Yet banish'd from the realms by right her own,
Paflion, a blind ufurper, mounts the throne:
Or, to known good preferring fpecious ill,
Reafon becomes a cully to the will:

well, excel, without redrefs, ney poffefs. clid may fucceed, to reform my creed? ge every blooming grace ght throne in Teraminta's face, her faultlefs fhape and air agree, ting wit, fhe ftrives to repartee; ever prone her matchless form to wrong, Envy thould be dumb, fhe lends her tongue. By long experience D-y may, no doubt, Enfnare a gudgeon, or fometimes a trout: Yet Dryden once exclaim'd (in partial fpite!) He fifh-because the man attempts to write. O, if the Water-nymphs were kind to none But thofe the Mufes bathe in Helicon, In what far diftant age would Belgia raise One happy wit to net the British feas!

Thus man, perverfely fond to roam aftray,
Hoodwinks the guide affign'd to fhew the way;
And in life's voyage like the pilot fares
Who breaks the compafs, and contemns the stars,
To fteer by meteors which at random fly,
Preluding to a tempeft in the sky.
Vain of his fkill, and led by various views,
Each to his end a different path pursues:
And feldom is one wretch fo humble known
To think his friend's a better than his own :
The boldest they who leaft partake the light,
As game-cocks in the dark are train'd to fight.
Nor fhame, nor ruin, can our pride abate,
But what became our choice we call our fate.
Villain, faid Zeno to his pilfering flave,
What frugal Nature needs, I freely gave;
With thee my treasure I depos'd in trust,
What could provoke thee now to prove unjust ?
Sir, blame the stars, felonious culprit cried:
We'll by the ftatute of the ftars be tried.
If their ftrong influence all our actions urge,
Some are foredoom'd to fteal-and fome to
fcourge:

Nature permits her various gifts to fall
On various climes, nor fmiles alike on all:
The Latian vales eternal verdure wear,
And flow'rs fpontaneous crown the fmiling year;
But who manures a wild Norwegian hill,
To raife the jafmine or the coy jonquil?
Who finds the peach among the favage floes,
Or in bleak Scythia feeks the blufhing rofe?
Here golden grain waves o'er the teeming fields,
And there the vine her racy purple yields.
High on the cliffs the British oak afcends,
Proud to furvey the feas her pow'r defends;
Her fovereign title to the flag fhe proves,
Scornful of fofter India's fpicy groves.

Thefe inftances, which true in fact we find,
Apply we to the culture of the mind.
This foil, in early youth improv'd with care,
The feeds of gentle fcience beft will bear;
That with more particles of flame infpir'd,
With glittering arms and thirft of fame is fir'd;
Nothing of greatnefs in a third will grow,
But, barren as it is, 'twill bear a beau.

If these from nature's genial bent depart,
In life's dull farce to play a borrow'd part;
Should the fage drefs, and flutter in the Mall,
Or leave his problems for a birth-night ball;
Should the rough homicide unfheath his pen,
And in heroics only murder men;
Should the foft fop forfake the lady's charms,
To face the foe with inoffensive aims;

The beadle must obey the Fates' decree,
As powerful Deftiny prevail'd with thee.

This heathen logic feems to bear too hard
On me, and many a harmless modern bard:
The critics hence may think themselves decreed
To jerk the wits, and rail at all they read!
Foes to the tribe from which they trace their clan,
As monkeys draw their pedigree from man;
To which (tho' by the breed our kind's disgrac’d)
We grant fuperior elegance of tafte:
But in their own defence the wits obferve
That, by impulfe from heaven, they write and

ftarve;

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