“ On fat pluralities supinely thrive:
Still let her senates titled slaves revere,
Nor dare to know the patriot from the peer;
For tinsel'd courts their laurel'd mount despise,
In stars and strings superlatively wise:
No longer charm'd by virtue's golden lyre,
Who sung of old amid th'Aonian choir,
Where cam, slow winding thro' the breezy reeds,
With kindly wave his groves of laurel seeds.
'Tis ours, my son, to deal the sacred bay,
Where Honour calls, and Justice points the way;
To wear the well-earn'd wreath which merit brings.
And snatch a gift beyond the reach of kings. ”

“ Sometimes thro' the yellow mead;
Where Joy, and white-rob'd Peace resort,
And Venus keeps her festive court,
Where Mirth and Youth each evening meet,
And lightly trip with nimble feet,
Nodding their lilly-crowned heads,
Where Laughter rose-lip'd Hebe leads:
Where Echo walks steep hills among,
List'ning to the shepherd's song.
Yet not these flow'ry fields of joy,
Can long my pensive mind employ;
Haste, FANCY, from the scenes of folly,
To meet the matron Melancholy!
Goddess of the tearful eye,
That loves to fold her arms and sigh ”

“ More sure the reptile's little arts devour,
Than waves, or wars, or Eurus' wintry pow'r,
Ye venerable bow'rs, ye seats sublime,
Clad in the mossy vest of fleeting time;
Ye stately piles of old munificence,
At once the pride of Learning and defence,
Where ancient Piety, a matron hoar,
Still seems to keep the hospitable door;
Ye cloisters pale, that length'ning to the sight,
Still step by step to musings mild invite;
Ye high-archt walks where oft the bard has caught
The glowing sentiment, the lofty thought;
Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays
Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise ”

“ For in thy month few birds have I heard sing,
They have mare cause to weep and plain their sorrow:
[3] Thy air it is not wholsome nor benign,
Lord Eolus does in thy season ring,
So bousteous are the blasts of his shrill horn,
Among thy boughs to walk I have forborn.
VI.
With that the lady soberly did smile,
And said, uprise and do thy observance:
Thou did promise in May's lusty while,
Then to describe the ROSE of most pleasance
Go see the birdis how they sing and dance,
And how the skies illumined are bright,
Enamell'd richly with new azure light. ”

“ When the bright sun's returning pow'r,
With laughing beam has chas'd the storm,
And chear'd reviving nature's form;
By sweet-brier hedges, bathed in dew,
Let me my wholsome path pursue;
There issuing forth the frequent snail,
Wears the dank way with slimy trail,
While as I walk, from pearled bush;
The sunny-sparkling drop I brush;
And all the landscape fair I view
Clad in robe of fresher hue:
And so loud the blackbird singe,
That far and near the valley rings.
From shelter deep of shaggy rock
The shepherd drives his joyful flock ”

“ Or tell what time britannia,
Whilom the fairest daughter of old Ocean,
VI.
In loathly disarray, dull eyes,
And faded cheek, wept o'er her abject sons:
Till william, great deliverer,
Led on the comely train, gay Liberty,
Religion, matron staid,
With all her kindred goddesses;
Justice with steady brow,
Trim Plenty, laureat Peace, and green-hair'd Commerce,
In flowing vest of thousand hues.
Fain would I shadow out old Bourbon's pile
Tott'ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ning cumbrous fall ”

“ To judge the various deeds of earth and heav'n;
'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.
Oft as from stricter hours resign'd
I quit the maze where science toils,
Do thou refresh my yielding mind
With all thy gay, delusive spoils.
But, O indulgent, come not nigh
The busy steps, the jealous eye
Of gainful care, and wealthy age,
Whose barren souls thy joys disdain,
And hold as foes to reason's reign
Whome'er thy lovely haunts engage. ”

“ While thro' thy work the rising day shall stream,
So long shall last thine honour, praise and name.
[14] And may thy labours to the Muse impart
Some emanation from her sister art,
To animate the verse, and bid it shine
In colours easy, bright, and strong, as Thine.
Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While softest slumbers seem to seal his eyes;
The hoary sire Heav'ns guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel stands. ”

“ There whirls me o'er the hills of slain,
Where tumult and destruction reign;
Where mad with pain, the wounded steed,
Tramples the dying and the dead;
Where giant Terror stalks around,
With sullen joy surveys the ground,
And pointing to th' ensanguin'd field,
Shakes his dreadful Gorgon-shield.
O guide me from this horrid scene
To high-archt walks, and alleys green,
Which lovely Laura seeks, to shun
The fervors of the mid-day sun.
The pangs of absence, O remove,
For thou can'st place me near my love.
[35] Can'st fold in visionary bliss,
And let me think I steal a kiss ”

“ Thick wrapt in night, thro' the proud host he past,
Dispensing death, and drove the furious blast;
Nor bade destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg'd sword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious Prince, in vain
Thy sceptre rescu'd, and th' Assyrian slain?
Ev'n now the soul maintains her latest strife,
And death's chill grasp congeals the fount of life.
[20] Yet see, kind Heav'n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen summers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding sun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day. ”

“ LOVE ELEGY. BY MR. HAMMOND.
I.
Let others boast their heaps of shining gold,
And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd,
Whom neigb'ring foes in constant terror hold,
And trumpets break their slumbers, never found.
II.
While calmly poor, I trifle life away,
Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearful fire,
No wanton hope my quiet shall betray,
But cheaply bless'd, I'll scorn each vain desire.
III.
With timely care I'll sow my little field,
And plant my orchard with it's master's hand,
Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield,
Or range the sheaves along the sunny land. ”

“ And can'st thou, stupid man, those sorrows see,
Nor share the anguish which He bears for Thee?
Thy sin, for which his sacred Flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Canst thou?—while nature smarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the sympathetic ground!
Lo! the black sun, his chariot backward driv'n,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heav'n:
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part,
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart. ”

“ And Britain's ISIS flow with Attic fame.
Alas! how chang'd! where now that Attic boast?
See! Gothic Licence rage o'er all my coast;
See! Hydra Faction spread it's impious reign,
Poison each breast, and madden ev'ry brain:
Hence frontless crouds, that not content to fright
The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night,
Blast the fair face of day; and madly bold,
To Freedom's foes infernal orgies hold;
To Freedom's foes, ah! see the goblet crown'd,
Hear plausive shouts to Freedom's foes resound ”

“ Shot thro' the trembling monarch's conscious heart;
From his own lips condemn'd; severe decree!
Had his God prov'd so stern a Judge as He.
But man with frailty is allay'd by birth;
Consummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth:
[16] Thro' all the soul tho' virtue holds the rein,
Beats at the heart, and springs in ev'ry vein:
Yet ever from the clearest source have ran
Some gross allay, some tincture of the man.
But who is he——deep-musing——in his mind,
He seems to weigh, in reason's scales, mankind ”

“ No soft remembrance, no maternal care:
For God has steel'd her unrelenting breast,
Nor feeling sense, nor instinct mild imprest,
Bade her the rapid-rushing steed despise,
Outstrip the rider's rage, and tow'r amidst the skies.
Didst thou the Horse with strength and beauty deck?
Hast thou in thunder cloath'd his nervous neck?
Will he, like groveling grashoppers afraid,
Start at each sound, at ev'ry breeze dismay'd?
A cloud of fire his lifted nostrils raise,
And breathe a glorious terror as they blaze. ”

“ At their first dawn with ripen'd splendors shine,
In DAVID all express'd; the good, the great,
The king, the hero, and the man compleat.
Serene he sits, and sweeps the golden lyre,
And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire.
See! with what art he strikes the vocal strings,
The God, his theme, inspiring what he sings!
Hark—or our ears delude us—from his tongue
Sweet flows, or seems to flow, some heav'nly song.
[15] Oh! could thine art arrest the flitting sound,
And paint the voice in magic numbers bound ”

“ Of grateful Britain. These shall testify
How well her calm impartial rule supplied
A monarch's absence; these commemorate
Her soul contemplative of peaceful Truth
And nature, mindful midst the pomp of Courts
Of wise retirement, and the silent grove.
She stretch'd thro' length'ning shades thy spacious walks,
Delightful Richmond, and the terrass rais'd
Of regal grandeur, whence the eye discerns
Fair Thames with copious waters winding slow
Midst pastures, spreading herds, and villages
Of aspect neat, and villas wrapt in shades:
Fair scene of chearful peace! ”

“ And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again shall lift sublime thy sacred head.
But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint resemblance of the old in you.
No more th' effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful answers from the mystic cloud:
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heav'n has left thy solitary shrine.
And now, at length, the fated term of years
The world's desire have brought, and lo! the God appears. ”

“ Appear'd fair Freedom's genius good.
O Freedom! sovereign boon of Heav'n;
Great Charter, with our being given;
For which the patriot, and the sage,
Have plan'd, have bled thro' ev'ry age!
High privilege of human race,
Beyond a mortal monarch's grace:
Who could not give, who cannot claim,
What but from God immediate came! ”

“ Shake jocund from their sides the dew.
'Tis thou, alone, O summer mild,
Canst bid me carol wood-notes wild:
Whene'er I view thy genial scenes:
Thy waving woods, embroider'd greens;
What fires within my bosom wake,
How glows my mind the reed to take!
What charms like thine the muse can call,
With whom 'tis youth and laughter all;
With whom each field's a paradise,
And all the globe a Bow'r of bliss! ”

“ View on yon plain the real glories rise.
Yes, ISIS! oft hast thou rejoic'd to lead
Thy liquid treasures o'er yon fav'rite mead;
Oft hast thou stopt thy pearly car to gaze,
While ev'ry Science nurs'd it's growing bays;
While ev'ry Youth with fame's strong impulse fir'd,
Prest to the goal, and at the goal untir'd,
Snatch'd each celestial wreath, to bind his brow,
The Muses, Graces, Virtues could bestow.
E'en now fond Fancy leads th' ideal train,
And ranks her troops on Mem'ry's ample plain;
See! the firm leaders of my patriot line,
See! sidney, raleigh, hamden, somers shine. ”

“ Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and Majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilst, as his chariot flies,
[23] The bright effusion streams through all the skies.
Then shall the proud dissolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow:
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then shall the splendors of th' enliven'd glass
Sink undistinguish'd in the burning mass.
And O! till earth, and seas, and Heav'n decay,
Ne'er may that fair creation fade away ”

“ Most pleasant flower of mighty colours [1] twain:
Nightingals sang, hail Natures suffragan,
In beauty, nurture, and each nobleness,
In rich array, renown, and gentleness.
XXVI. [9]
The common voice uprose of warblers small,
Upon this wise, "O blessed be the hour
"That thou wast chose to be our principal,
"Welcome to be our Princess crown'd with pow'r,
"Our pearl, our pleasance, and our paramour,
"Our peace, our play, our plain felicity:
"Christ thee conserve from all adversity." ”

“ Now ev'ry Passion sleeps: desponding Love,
And pining Envy, ever-restless Pride;
An holy Calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul,
Anger and mad Ambition's storms subside.
VII.
O modest EVENING! oft let me appear
A wandering votary in thy pensive train;
Listening to every wildly-warbling note,
That fills with farewel sweet thy darkening plain. ”

“ As slow he winds in museful mood,
Near the rush'd marge of cherwell's flood;
Or o'er old avon's magic edge,
Whence Shakespeare cull'd the spiky sedge,
[85] All playful yet, in years unripe,
To frame a shrill and simple pipe.
There thro' the dusk but dimly seen,
Sweet ev'ning objects intervene:
His wattled cotes the shepherd plants,
Beneath her elm the milk-maid chants.
The woodman, speeding home, awhile
Rests him at a shady stile. ”

“ Say, whence the Wild-Ass wantons o'er the plain,
Sports uncontroul'd, unconscious of the rein?
'Tis his o'er scenes of solitude to roam,
The waste his house, the wilderness his home;
He scorns the crouded city's pomp and noise,
Nor heeds the driver's rod, nor hears his voice;
At will on ev'ry various verdure fed,
His pasture o'er the shaggy cliffs is spread.
Will the fierce Unicorn obey thy call,
Enslav'd to man, and patient of the stall?
Say, will he stubborn stoop thy yoke to bear,
And thro' the furrow drag the tardy share? ”

“ And breathe fresh life in ev'ry gale.
Here, spreads a green expanse of plains,
Where, sweetly-pensive, Silence reigns:
And there, at utmost stretch of eye,
A mountain fades into the sky;
While winding round, diffus'd and deep,
A river rolls with sounding sweep.
Of human art no traces near,
I seem alone with nature here! ”

“ Still boast of Freedom, while you break her laws:
To pow'r your songs of Gratulation pay,
To courts address soft flattery's soothing lay.
What tho' your gentle mason's plaintive verse
Has hung with sweetest wreaths musæus' hearse;
What tho' your vaunted bard's ingenuous woe,
Soft as my stream, in tuneful numbers flow?
Yet strove his Muse, by same or envy led,
[49] To tear the laurels from a sister's head?——
Misguided youth! with rude unclassic rage
To blot the beauties of thy whiter page;
A rage that sullies e'en thy guiltless lays,
And blasts the vernal bloom of half thy bays. ”

“ Where, to avoid cold wintry show'rs,
The naked beggar shivering lies,
While whistling tempests round her rise,
[34] And trembles, lest the tottering wall
Should on her sleeping infants fall.
Now let us louder strike the lyre,
For my heart glows with martial fire;
I feel, I feel, with sudden heat,
My big tumultuous bosom beat;
The trumpet's clangors pierce my ear,
A thousand widows' shrieks I hear:
Give me another horse I cry,
Lo! the base Gallic squadrons fly;
Whence is this rage?——what spirit, say,
To battle hurries me away? ”