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And oft as to thy mind thou shalt recal 'Tis like the stream, beside whole water bed
Shade all the ground, and Aourth to the sts,
The waves the while beneath in secret tos, 143. Add Amicos. t. R. West. And undermine the hollow bank below: YES, happy youths, on Camus sedgy fide,
Wide and more wide the waters urge their way,
Nor signs on earth, nor portents in the air;
Not from the Poet, but the Friend fincere.
Sweet delight of human kind!
To inake the fear of calms and caje!
ploughs his way A victim yet unworthy of thy dart;
Through rocks, amid the foaming ica,
my withering face, To gain thy love; and then perceives
How weak is Man to Reafou's judging eye ! Sees daisies open, rivers run,
+ Almost all Tibullus's Elegy is imitated in this little piece, from whence his tranfition to Mr. Pere's letter is very artfully contrived, and belpeaks a degree of judgment much beyond Mr. Welt's seas.
And dica A pris'ac Short'nin
The rest it seeks, in seeking dies;
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, And doubts at last for knowledge rise.
Down to the roly Wett. But kindly still Lovely, lasting peace, appear ;
Compensating his loss with added hours This world itself, if thou art here,
Of focial converse and inftructive case, Is once again with Eden blest,
And gathering at Thort notice in one group And man contains it in his brcaft.
The family dispers’d, and fixing thought 'Twas thus, as under Thade I stood,
Not less dispers’d by daylight and its cares, I sung my wishes to the wood,
I crown thee King of intimate delights, And, lost in thought, no more perceiv'd Fire-fide enjoyments, home-born happiness, The branches whisper as they wav'd;
And all the comforts that the lowly roof It seem'd as all the quiet place
Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours Confess’d the presence of his grace,
Of long uninterrupted evening know. When thus the spoke-Go rule thy will, No rattling wheels stop short before thele gates ; Bid thy wild passions all be still,
No powder'd pert proficient in the art Know God and bring thy heart to know Of sounding an alarm, assaults these doors The joys which from religion flow;
Till the strect rings. No stationary steeds Then cv'ry grace shall prove its guest,
Cough their own knell, while hecdless of the And I'll be there to crown the rest.
found Oh! by yonder moffy seat,
The Silent circle fan themselves, and quake; In my hours of firect retreat,
But here the needle plies its busy task. Might I thus my foul employ,
The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow'r, With sense of gratitude and joy ;
Wrought patiently into the frowy lawn, Rais'd as ancient prophets were,
Unfolds its bosom, buds, and leaves, and sprigs, In heav'nly vision, praise, and prayer ;
And curling ti-drils, gracefully dispos'd, Pleasing all men, hurting nonc,
Follow the nimble finger of the fair, Pleas'd and bless'd with God alone;
A wreath that cannot fade, of Aow'rs that blow Then while the gardens take my light, With most success when all befides decay. With all the colours of delight!
The poet's or historian's page, by one While silver waters glide along,
Made vocal for th'amusement of the rest; To plcate my car and court my song,
The sprightly lyre, whole treature of fivcet I'll lift my voice and tune my string,
[out; And thee, Great Source of Nature, fing. The touch from many a trembling chord Inakes The fun that walks his airy way,
And the clear voice symphonious, yet diftinét, To light the world, and give the day;
And in the charming strife triumphant itill, The moon that thines with borrow'd light; Beguile the night, and fet a keener edge The stars that gild the gloomy night;
On female industry; the threaded ftcel The feas that roll unnumber'd waves;
Flies tiviftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. The wood that spreads its Shady leaves ; The volume clos'd, the customary rites The field whose cars conceal the grain,
Of the last mcal commence: a Roman mcal, The yellow treasure of the plain ;
Such as the mistress of the world once found All of thcse, and all I sce,
Delicious, when her patriots of high note, Should be fung, and sung by me :
Perhaps by moon-light at their humble doors, They speak their Maker as they can,
And under an old oak's domestic fhade But want and ask the tongue of
Enjoy'd, spare feast! a radith and an egg. Go search among your idle drcams,
Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull, Your busy or your vain extremes ;
Nor such as with a frown forbids the play And find a life of equal bliss,
Of fancy, or prescribes the found of mirth. Or own the next begun in this,
Nor do we madly, like an impious world,
That made them an intruder on their joys, § 142. An Address to Winter. CowPER.
Start at his awful name, or deem his praise 04 Winter ruler of th'inverted year,
A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone The scatter'd hair with fleet like alhes fill'd, Exciting oft our gratitude and love, Thy breath congeald upon thy lips, thy chceks While we retrace with mem'ry's pointing wand, Fring'd with a beard inade white with other That calls the past to our exact revicw, snows
The dangers we have 'Icap'd, the broken snare, Than those of age; thy forchcad wrapt in clouds, The disappointed foc, deliv'rance found A leafcfs branch thy sccptre, and thy rhrone Unlook'd for, life prcserv'd and peace restor'd, A nliding car indebted to no wheels,
Fruits of omnipotent eternal love. But urg'd by storing along its flipp'ry way ; Oh evenings worthy of the Gods ! exclaim'd I love thice, all unlovely as thou Icein'st, The Sabine bard. 'Oh evenings, I reply, And dreaded as thou art. Thou hold'It thc sun More to be priz'd and coveted than yours, A pris'ner in the yet undawning East,
As more illumind and with nobler truths, Short’ning his journey between morn and woon, 'That I and Mine, and those we love, enjov.
$143. Liberty renders England preferable to So when remote futurity is brought
Cowper. A terrible sagacity informs
The Poct's heart, he looks to diftant ftomus, T Sliberty alone that gives the fow'r
He hears the thunder ere the tempeft lowrs, Of fleeting life its lustre and perfyme,
And, arm’d with strength surpaffing bata And we are weeds without it. All constraint,
pow'rs, Except what wildom lays an evil mon,
Seizes events as yet unknown to man, Is evil; hurts the faculties, impedes
And Jarts his soul into the dawning plan. Their progress in the road of science; blinds
Hence, in a Roman mouth, the graceful daze The eye light of discov'ry, and begets
Of Prophet and of Poet was the same; In those that fuffer it, a fordid mind
Hence Britith poets too the priesthood fbar Bestial, a magre intellect, unfit
And ev'ry hallow'd druid was a bard.
EL EGY I.
Darkness extends her ebon ray,
While wide along the gloomy scene
Deep silence holds her solemn tway.
The melancholic eye surveys, And plausible than social life requires,
Save where the worm's fantastic gleam
The ’nighted traveller betrays.
Disturbs the stillness of the grove.
The village swain forgets his care:
Sleep, that the sting of Sorrow charms,
And heals all fadness but Despair.
And when the fun withdraws his rays,
Or cheerless through the defart strays;
Or, to the church-yard's horrors led,
Or throws his body on the ground.
Some friendly power direct my way,
Where pale Misfortune's haggard train,
Sad luxury! delight to stray.
Retir'd from life's fantastic crew,
Resign'd, I'll wait my final door, $ 144 Description of a Poet. COWPER. And bid the busy world adieu. I
KNOW the mind that feels indeed the fire The world has now no joy for me,
Since all my eyes defir'd to sce,
Since he, fo form'd to please and bics,
Sa wise, fu innocent, fo fair,
And brighten'd all ehe gloom of care;
Since the is lost-Ye powers divine,
What have I done, or thought, or faid? The strings are swept with such a poiv'r
, fo loud, O fay, what horrid act of mine The storm of music thakes th'aftonifb'd crowd.
Has drawn this rengeance on my bead !
Vhy should Heav'n favour Lycon's claim ?
To each by turns my vows I paid, 1. Why are my heart's best wishes croft ? As Folly led me to admire; E. Vhat fairer deeds adorn his name?
While Fancy magnify'd each shade, 1. What nobler merit can he boast ?
And Hope encreas'd each fond defire. Vhat higher worth in him was found
But soon I found. 'twas all a dream; My true heart's service to ourweigh?
And learn'd the fond pursuit to fhun, Efenseless fop!-A dull compound
Where few can reach their purpos'd aim, Of scarcely animated clay!
And thousands daily are undone : le dress'd, indeed, he danc'd with case, And Fame, I found, was empty air; And charm'd her by repeating o’er
And Wealth had Terror for her guest ;, Inmeaning raptures in her praise,
And Pleasure's path was strewn with Care; That twenty fools had told before :
And Power was vanity at best. But I, alas ! who thought all art
Tird of the chace I gave it o'er; My passion's force would meanly prove, And in a far fequefter'd shade, Could only boast an honest heart,
To Contemplation's sober power And claim'd no merit but by love.
My youth's next services I paid. Have I not fat-ye conscious hours
There Health and Peace adorn'd the scene; Be witness—while my Stella fung
And oft, indulgent to my prayer, From morn to eve, with all my powers With mirthful eye and frolic mien
Rapt. in th'enchantment of her tonguel The Muse would deign to visit there. Ye conscious hours that saw me stand
There would the oft delighted rove Entranc'd in wonder and surprise,
The flower-enamellid vale along : In filent rapture press her hand,
Or wander with me through the grove, With pailion bursting from my eyes.
And listen to the woodlark's fong. Have I not lov'd earth and heav'n!
Or 'mid the foreft's awful gloom, Where now is all my youthful boast?
Whilft wild amazeinent fill'd iny eyes, The dear exchange I hop'd was given,
Recall past ages from the tomb, For fighted fame and fortune loft ;
And bid idcal worlds arise. Where now the joys that once were mine? Thus in the Muse's favour blest, Where all my hopes of future bliss ?
One with alone my foul could frame, Must I those joys, those hopes resign?
And Heav'n bestow'd, to crown the rest,
A friend, and Thyrsis was his name.
And worth, unconscious of a stain,
The boast and wonder of the plain.
Still with our years our friendship grew; The dear fad image still retains ;
No cares did then my peace destroy ; And, spite of reason, spite of art,
Time brought new blessings as he flew, The dreadful memory remains,
And every hour was wing'd with joy. Ye Pow'rs divine, whose wond'rous skill
But soon the blissful scene was lost, Deep in the womb of time can fee,
Soon did the sad reverse appear; - Behold I hend me to your will,
Love caine, like an untimely frost,
To blast the promise of my year.
I saw young Daphne's angel-form
(Fool that I was I bless'd the smart) Be Stella bleft! Í alk no more.
And, while I gaz’d, nor thought of harm, But lo! where high in yonder cast
The dear infection seiz'd my heart. The star of morning mounts apace!
She was at least in Damon's eyes,
Her heart a stranger to disguise,
Her mind as perfect as her face.
To hear her spcak, to see her move
Her voice was joy, her look was love,
And Heaven was open'd in her smile! And Fame her golden trumpet blew ;
She hcard me breathe my amorous prayers, And Power display'd her gorgeous charms;
She listen'd to the tender strain, And Wсalth engag'd my wandering view,
She heard my fighs, the saw my tears, And Pleasure wou'd me to her arms :
And seem'd at length to Thare my pain.
Book IT. She said he loy'd-and I, poor youth ! The dregs and fæculence of ev'ry land.
(How soon, alas, can Hope persuade:) In cities foul example on inost minds Thought all the laid no more than truth; Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds And all my love was well repaid.
In gross and pamper'd cities floth and lust, In joys unknown to courts or kings,
And wantonness and gluttonness excess. With her I sat the live-long day,
In cities, vice is hidden with moft ease, And said and look'd such tender things,
Or feen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught As none beside could look or lay!
By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there
Beyond th'archiavement of successful flight. How foon can Fortune thift the scene,
I do confess them nurs'ries of the arts, And all our earthly bliss deftroy!
In which they flourish most; where, in the beains Care lovers round, and Grief's fell train
Of warm encouragement, and in the eye Still treads upon the heels of Joy.
Of public note, they reach their perfeết size. My age's hope, my youth's best boast,
Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd My soul's chief bleffing, and my pride,
The fairest capital of all the world, In one fad inoment all were lost,
By riot and incontinence the worft. And Daphne chang'd, and Thyrsis dy'dd There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank beO! who, that heard her vows ere-while,
A lucid mirror, in which Nature fces [comes Could drcam thcse vows were insincere !
All her reficêted features. Bacon there Or who could think, that saw her finile,
Gives more than female beauty to a stone,
And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips. That fraud could find adinittance there!
Nor docs the chiffel occupy alone
Each province of her art her cqual care.
She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a soil Ye fwains, hence warn'd, avoid the bait, So fterile with what charms foc'er the will, Q thun her paths, the trait'ress fhun !
The richest fccn'ry and the loveliest forms. Hur voice is death, her smile is fate;
Where finds philofophy her eagle eye, Who hears or sees her is undone.
With which the gazes at yon burning disk
Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots ? And when Death's hand Mall close inv eves
In London. Where her implements exact, (For foon, I know, the day will come)
With which the calculates, computes, and icans, O cheer my spirit with a ngh,
All distance, motion, magnitude, and now And grave those lines upon my
Measures an atom, and now girds a world ?
Where has coinmerce such a mart, THE EPITAPH.
So rich, so throng’d, so drain’d, and so supplied CONSIGN'D to dust, bencath this stone,
As London, opulent, enlarg'd, and still In manhood's prime, is Damon laid;
Incrcating London ? Babylon of old Joylets he liv'd, and dy'd unknown,
Not more the glory of the earth, then she in bleak misfortune's barren shade.
A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now, Lov'd by the Muse, but lov'd in vain :
She has her praite. Now mark a spot or two Twas beauty drew his ruin on ;
That so much beauty would do well to purge ; He saw young Daphne on the plain;
And thew this queen of cities, that fo fair He lov'd, believ'd-and was undonc ! Vay yet be foul, fo witty, yet not wise. His heart then funk beneath the idorm
It is not seemly, nor of goood report,
That the is llack in in discipline : more prompt (Salmeed of unexampl’d youth!) And Torrow, like an envious worm,
T'avenge than to prevent the breach of law. Devour'd the bloilom of his youth.
That she is rigid in denouncing death
On petty robbers, and indulges life Bencath this stone the youth is laid
And liberty, and oft-times honor too, 0 greet his athes with a tear !
To peculators of the public gold.
Into his overgorg'd and bloated purse
Nor is it well, nor can it come to good, $ 146. Great Cities, and London in particular, That, through profane and infidel contempt allowed their due Praise. Cowper.
Of holy writ, she has presum'd t'annul
And abrogotc, as roundly as she may, BUT tho' true worth and virtue, in the mild The total ordinance and will of God; And genial foil of cultivated life
Advancing fashion to the post of truth, Thrive moft, and may perhaps thrive only there, And cent'ring all authority in modes Yet not in critics oft. In proud and gay And customs of her own, till Sabbath rites And gain-devoted cities : thither flow, Have dwindled into unrespected forms, As to a coinmon and moit noiloinc fcwer, And knces and hafsocks are well-nigh divarc'd.