PART II. OVERTURE.-Pastorale. MAN Speaker. Fast by that shore where Thames' translucent stream, Where, splendid as the youthful poet's dream, The good old sire, unconscious of decay, Call on their mistress, now no more, and weep. CHORUS. Ye shady walks, ye waving greens, Ye nodding towers, ye fairy scenes, Let all your echoes now deplore, That she who formed your beauties is no more. MAN Speaker. First of the train the patient rustic came, Whose callous hand had form'd the scene, Bending at once with sorrow and with age, With many a tear and many a sigh between, "And where," he cried, "shall now my babes have bread, Or how shall age support its feeble fire? No lord will take me now, my vigour fled, Nor can my strength perform what they require; Each grudging master keeps the labourer bare, My noble mistress thought not so: And as my strength decay'd, her bounty grew." In decent dress and coarsely clean, The pious matron next was seen, Clasp'd in her hand a godly book was borne, Oh! where shall weeping want repair, Too late in life for me to ask, And shame prevents the deed, And tardy, tardy are the times To succour, should I need. But all my wants, before I spoke, She still relieved, nor sought my praise, But every day her name I'll bless, VOL. IV. SONG.-By a WOMAN. Each day, each hour, her name I'll bless, The hardy veteran after struck the sight, O'er Afric's sandy plain, And wild the tempest howling But every danger fell before, The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar, Than what I feel this fatal day. Oh, let me fly a land that fly a land that spurns the brave, Oswego's dreary shores shall be my grave; And lay my body where my limbs were lost." Old Edward's sons unknown to yield, Shall crowd from Cressy's laurell'd field, To do thy memory right; For thine and Britain's wrongs they feel, Again they snatch the gleamy steel, And wish the avenging fight. WOMAN Speaker. In innocence and youth complaining, Next appear'd a lovely maid, Affliction o'er each feature reigning, In sweet succession charms the senses, "The garland of beauty" (tis this she would say,) I'll not wear a garland until she return; The echoes of Thames shall my sorrows proclaim, I'll strip all the spring of its earliest bloom; On her grave shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, SONG.-By a WOMAN.-Pastorale. With garlands of beauty the Queen of the May, And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, CHORUS. On the grave of Augusta this garland be plac'd, We'll rifle the spring of its earliest bloom; LETTER, IN PROSE AND VERSE, TO MRS. BUNBURY.(1) MADAM: I read your letter with all that allowance which critical candour could require, but after all find so much to object to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giving it a serious answer. I am not so ignorant, Madam, as not to see there are many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms also, (solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleis in Attica among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we use the word Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that name; but this is learning you have no taste for.)-I say, Madam, there are sarcasms in it and solecisms also. But, not to seem an ill-natured critic, I'll take leave to quote your own words, and give you my remarks them as they occur. You begin as follows: upon 66 I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here, And your spring velvet coat very smart will appear, To open our ball the first day in the year.” Pray, Madam, where did you ever find the epithet "good" applied to the title of Doctor? Had you called me learned Doctor, or grave Doctor, or noble Doctor, it might be allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil at trifles, you talk of my spring velvet coat, and advise me to wear it the first day in the year, that is in the middle of winter;-a spring velvet in the middle of winter!!! That would be a solecism indeed; and yet, to increase the inconsistence, in another part of your letter you call me a beau : (1) [Miss Catharine Horneck became, in August 1771, the wife of Henry Bunbury, Esq., celebrated for the powers of his pencil. An invitation from the lady, in a rhyming and jocular strain, to spend some time with them at their seat at Barton in Suffolk, brought from the Poet the above reply, which is now printed for the first time. It was written in 1772. See Life, ch. xxii.] |