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Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung,
That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around,
And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue,
And plantain ribb'd that heals the reaper's wound,
And marj'rum sweet, in shepherd's posie found,
And lavender, whose pikes of azure bloom
Shall be, 'erewhile, in arid bundles bound,
To lựrk amidst the labors of her loom,
And crown her kerchief clean with mickle rare per

And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd
The daintiest garden of the proudest peer,
Ere, driven from its envy'd site, it found
A sacred shelter for its branches here;
Where edg'd with gold its glitt'ring skirts appear.
O wassel days ! O customs meet and well!
Ere this was banish'd froin its lofty sphere;
Simplicity then sought this humble cell,
Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling

dwell. Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eye, Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete; If winter 'twere, she to her hearth did cleave, But in her garden found a summer-seat: Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king, While taunting foe-men did a song intreat, All, for the nonce, untuning ev'ry string, Uphung their useless lyres--small heart had they

to sing. For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore, And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed; And in those elfins' ears would oft deplore The times when Truth by Popish rage did bleed, And tortious death was true Devotion's meed; And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn, That nould on wooden image place her creed; And lawny saints in smould'ring flames did burn: Ah! dearest Lord, forefend, thilk days should e'er


In elbow chair, like that of Scottish stem,
By the sharp tooth of cank'ring eld defac'd,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Our sov'reign prince and liefest liege is plac'd,
The matron sate, and some with rank she grac'd,
(The source of children's and of courtier's pride !)
Redress'd affronts, for vile affronts there passid,
And warn'd them not the fretful to deride,
But love each other dear, whatever them betide.
Right well she knew each temper to descry,
To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise,
Some with vile copper prize exalt on high,
And some entice pittance small of praise ;
And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays:
E'en absent, she the reins of pow'r doth hold,
While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways;
Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold,
'Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold.
Lo, now with state she utters the command !
Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair,
Their books, of stature small, they take in hand,
Which with pellucid horn secured are,
To save from finger wet the letters fair;
The work so gay, that on their back is seen
St. George's high achievements does declare;
On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been,
Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween!
Ah ! luckless he, and born beneath the beam
Of evil star! it irks me whilst I write!
As erst the bard !* by Mulla's silver stream,
Oft as he told of deadly dolorous plight,
Sigh'd as he sung, and did in tears indite.
For brandishing the rod, she doth begin
To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight!
And down they drop, appears his dainty skin,
Fair as the furry coat of whitest ermilin.

• Spenser.

O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure His little sister doth his peril see; All playful as she sate, she grows demure, She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee; She meditates a pray'r to set him free; Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny, (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) To her sad grief that swells in either eye, And wrings her so that all for pity she could die. No longer can she now her shrieks command, And hardly she fordears, thro' awful fear, To rushen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, To stay harsh justice in its mid career; On thee she calls, on thee, her parent dear! (Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow !) She sees no kind domestic visage near, And soon a flood of tears begins to flow, And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? The plenteous show'r that does his cheek distain ? When he, in abject wise, implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain ; Or when from high she levels well her aim, And, thro' the thatch, his cries each falling stroke

proclaim. The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay Attend, and con their tasks with mickle care : By turns, astony'd, ev'ry twig survey, And, from their fellow's hateful wounds, beware, Knowing, I wist, how each the same may share; Till fear has taught them a performance meet, And to the well-known chest the dame repair, Whence oft with sugar'd cates she doth 'em greet, And gingerbread y.rare, now, certes, doubly sweet!

See to their seats they hye with merry glee,
And in beseemly order sitten there,
All but the wight of bum y-galled, he
Abhorreth bench and stool, and fourm, and chair,
(This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair ;)
And eke with snubs profound, and heaving breast,
Convulsions intermitting ! does declare
His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust behest,
And scorns her offer'd love, and shuns to be caress'd.

His face besprent, with liquid crystal shines,
His blooming face, that seems a purple flow'r;
Which low to earth its drooping head declines,
All smear'd and sully'd by a vernal show'r:
O the hard bosoms of despotic pow'r!
All, all, but she, the author of his shame,
All, all, but she, regret this mournful hour;
Yet hence the youth, and hence the flow'r shall claim,
If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame.

Behind some door, in melancholy thought,
Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines,
Ne for his fellows' joyaunce careth aught,
But to the wind all merriment resigns,
And deems it shame if he to peace inclines;
And many a sullen look ascance is sent,
Which for bis dame's annoyance he designs;
And still the more to pleasure him she's bent,
The more doth he, perverse, her 'haviour past resent.

Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be!
But if that pride it be, which thus inspires,
Beware, ye dames! with nice discernment see
Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires :
Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres,
All coward arts, is valour's gen'rous heat !
The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires,
Like Vernon's patriot soul ; more justly great
Than craft that pimps for ill, or flow'ry false deceit.

Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear!
Ev'n now sagacious foresight points to show
A little bench of heedless bishops here,
And there a chancellor in embryo,
Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so,
As Milton, Shakespeare, names that ne'er shall die!
Tho' now he crawl along the ground so low,
Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high,
Wisheth, poor starv'ling elf! his paper kite may fly.
And this perhaps, who, cens'ring the design,
Low lays the house which that of cards doth build,
Shall Dennis be! if rigid fates incline,
And many an epic to his rage shall yield,
And many a poet quit the Aonian field;
And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear,
As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrill'd,
Surveys mine work, and levels many a sneer,
And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, “ What stuff

is here!”
But now Dan Phæbus gains the middle sky,
And Liberty unbars her prison door,
And like a rushing torrent out they fly,
And now the grassy cirque han cover'd o'er
With boist'rous revel-rout and wild uproar;
A thousand ways in wanton rings they run,
Heav'n shield their short-liv'd pastimes, I implore!
For well may Freedom, erst so dearly won,
Appear to British elf more gladsome then the sun.
Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade,
And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flow'rs,
For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid,
For never may ye taste more careless hours
In knightly castles or in ladies' bow'rs.
O vain to seek delight in earthly thing!
But most in courts, where proud Ambition tow'rs:
Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring
Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king.
Vol. II.


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