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Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme.

And at the door imprisoning board is seen,
High transports are shown to the sight,

Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray;
But we are not to find them our own;

Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day!
Fate never bestow'd such delight,

The noises intermix'd, which thence resound,
As I with my Phyllis had known.

Do learning's little tenement betray:

Where sits the dame, disguis'd in look profound, O ye woods, spread your branches apace;

And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel
To your deepest recesses I fly;

I would hide with the beasts of the chase ;
I would vanish from every eye.

Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,
Yet my reed shall resound through the grove

Emblem right meet of decency does yield:
With the same sad complaint it begun;

Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe,
How she smild, and I could not but love;

As is the hare-bell that adorns the field :
Was faithless, and I am undone !

And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield
Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd,

With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill'd;

And stedfast hate, and sharp afliction join'd,

And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind. * Auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens,

Few but have ken'd, in semblance meet pourtray’d, Infantumque animæ fentes in limine primo."


The childish faces of old Eol's train;
Ah me! full sorely is my heart forlorn,

Libs, Notus, Auster: these in frowns array'd,
To think how modest worth neglected lies;

How then would fare or earth, or sky, or main,
While partial fame doth with her blasts adorn Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein?
Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise; And were not she rebellious breasts to quell,
Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprize:

And were not she her statutes to maintain,
Lend me thy clarion, goddess ! let me try

The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell,
To sound the praise of merit, ere it dies;

Where comely peace of mind, and decent order Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,

dwell. Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity.

A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown:
In every village mark'd with little spire,

A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air ;
Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to fame, 'Twas simple russet, but it was her own;
There dwells, in lowly shed, and mean attire, 'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair!
A matron old, whom we school-mistress name;

'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame: And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'd around,
They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, Through pious awe; did term it passing rare;
Aw'd by the power of this relentless dame;

For, they in gaping wonderment abound,
Andoft-times, on vagaries idly bent,

And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight
For unkempt hair, or task unconn’d,are sorely shent.

on ground.
And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree,

Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth,
Which learning near her little dume did stowe; Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;
Whilom a twig of small regard to see,

Goody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth,
Though now so wide its waving branches flow, Or dame, the sole additions she did hear;
And work the simple vassals mickle woe;

Yet these she challeng'd,these she held right dear:
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew,

Ne would esteem him act as mought behove, But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat

Who should not honour'd eld with these revere: low;

For never title yet so mean could prove,
And as they look'd they found their horror grew, But there was eke a mind which did that title love.
And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.

One ancient hen she took delight to feed,
So have I seen (who has not, may conceive), The plodding pattern of the busy dame;
A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd;

Which, ever and'anon, impell’d by need,
So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave

Into her school, begirt with chickens, came;
Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast ;

Such favour did her past deportment claim ; They start, they stare,they wheel,they look aghast;

And, if neglect had lavish'd on the ground Sad servitude! such comfortless annoy

Fragment of bread, she would collect the same; May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste !

For well she knew, and quaintly could ex pound,

What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she Ne superstition clog his dance of joy,

found. Ne vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy. Near to this dome is found a patch so green,

Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak, On which the tribe their gamboles do display;

That in her garden sip'd the silvery dew

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Where no vain flower disclos'd a gaudy streak; Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high,
But herbs for use, and physic, not a few,

And some entice with pittance small of praise; sanotte
Of grey renown, within those borders grew: And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays:
The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme,

Ev'n absent, she the reins of power doth hold, Fresh baum, and marygold of cheerful hue :

While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways; The lowly gill, that never dares to climb;

Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks bebold, And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to 'Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold. rhyme.

Lo now with state she utters her command! Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung,

Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair; That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around; Their books of stature small they take in hand, And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue;

Which with pellucid horn secured are,

Andel And plantain ribb’d, that healsthe reaper's wound; To save from finger wet the letters fair: And marjoram sweet, in shepherds' posie found; The work so gay, that on their back is seen, And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom

St. George's high achievements does declare; Shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound,

On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been, To lurk amidst the labours of her loom,

Kens the forthcoming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween! His face And crown her kerchiefs clean, with mickle rare perfume.

Ab luckless he, and born beneath the beam

Of evil star! it irks me whilst I write! And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd As erst the bard by Mulla's silver stream, The daintiest garden of the proudest peer;

Oft, as he told of deadly dolorous plight, Ere, driven from its envy'd site, it found

Sigh’d as he sung, and did in tears indite. A sacred shelter for its branches here; [pear.

For brandishing the rod, she doth begin Where edg’d with gold its glittering skirts ap To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight!

ca Oh wassail days! O customs meet and well ! And down they drop; appears his dainty skin, Ere this was banish'd from its lofty sphere : Fair as the furry coat of whitest ermilin.

Simplicity then sought this humble cell, [dwell. Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling

O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure,


His little sister doth his peril see: Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve,

All playful as she sate, she grows demure; Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete; She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee; If winter 'twere, she to her hearth did cleave, She meditates a prayer to set him free: But in her garden found a summer-seat:

Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny, Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat

(If gentle pardon could with dames agree) How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king,

To her sad grief that swells iu either eye,

Ik be While taunting foe-men did a song entreat, And wrings her so that all for pity she could die.

All, for the nonce, untuning every string, Uphung their useless lyres-small heart had they

No longer can she now her shrieks command; to sing.

And hardly she forbears, through awful fear,


To rushen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore, To stay barsh justice in its mid career.

ANE And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed; On thee she calls, on thee her parent dear!

4 And, in those elfins' ears, would oft deplore

(Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow!) The times, when truth by popish rage did bleed;

She sees no kind domestic visage near, And tortuous death was true devotion's meed;

And soon a flood of tears begins to flow; And simple faith in iron chains did mourn,

And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. That nould on wooden image place her creed;

TE And lawny saints in smouldering flames did burn:

But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace! Ah! dearest lord, forefend, thilk days should c'er

Or what device his loud laments explain? return.

The form upcouth of his disguised face?

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In elbow-chair, (like that of Scottish stem,
By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defac'd,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Oar sovereign 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 pass’d;

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;

The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain?
The plenteous slower 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, through the thatch, his cries each falling

stroke proclaim.
The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay,

By turns, astony'd, every twig survey,

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Till fear has taught them a performance meet, And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear; And to the well-known chest the dame repair;

As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrillid, Whence oft with sugar'd cates she doth them Surveys mine work; and levels many a sneer, greet,

And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, “ What stuff And gingerbread y-rare; now certes, doubly sweet.

is here?" See to their seats they hye with merry glee, But now Dan Phæbus gains the middle sky, And in beseemly order sitten there;

And liberty unbars lier prison-door; All but the wight of bum y-galled, he,

And like a rushing torrent out they fly, Abhorreth bench and stool, and form, and chair; And now the grassy cirque han cover'd o'er (This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair;)

With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar; And eke with snubs profound, and heaving breast, A thousand ways in wanton rings they run. Convulsions intermitting, does declare

Heaven shield their short-liv'd pastimes, I imHis grievous wrong; his dame's unjust behest ; For well may freedom erst so dearly.won, Cplore ! And scorns her offer'd love, and shuns to be caress'd. Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun.

His face besprent with liquid crystal shines, Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade,
His blooming face that seems a purple flower, And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers;
Which low to earth its drooping head declines, For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid ;
All smear'd and sully'd by a vernal shower. For never may ye taste more careless hours
O the hard bosoms of despotic power !

In knightly castles or in ladies' bowers.
All, all, but she, the author of his shame,

O vain to seek delight in earthly thing ! All, all, but she, regret this mournful hour:

But most in courts, where proud ambition towers; Yet hence the youth, and hence the flower, shall

Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring claim,

Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king. If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame.

See in each sprite some various bent appear! Behind some door, in melancholy thought,

These rudely carol most incondite lay; Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines;

Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer Ne for his fellows' joyance careth aught,

Salute the stranger passing on his way; But to the wind all merriment resigns ;

Some builden fragile tenements of clay; And deems it shame if he to peace inclines;

Some to the standing lake their courses bend, And many a sullen look ascance is sent,

With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play; Which for his dame's annoyance he designs ;

Thilk to the huxter's savoury cottage tend, And still the more to pleasure him she's bent, In pastry kings and queens th'allotted mite to spend. The more doth he, perverse, her 'haviour past resent.

Here as each season yields a different store, Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be!

Each season's stores in order ranged been; But if that pride it be, which thus inspires, Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er, Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment see Galling full sore th' unmoney'd wight, are seen; Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires: And goosebrie clad in livery red or green; Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres,

And here of lovely dye, the catharine pear, All coward arts, is valour's generous heat;

Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice, I ween: The firm fixt breast which fit and right, requires,

O may no wight e'er pennyless come there, Like Vernon's patriot soul; more justly great

Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless Than craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false deceit ;

care! Yet, nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits ap

See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound, pear!

With thread so white in tempting posies ty’d, Evin now sagacious foresight points to show Scattering like blooming maid their glances round, A little bench of heedless bishops here,

With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside; And there a chancellor in embryo;

And must be bought, though penury betide. Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so,

The plum all azure, and the nut all brown; As Milton, Shakspeare, names that ne'er shall die! And here each season do those cakes abide, Though now he crawl along the ground so low, Whose honour'd names th' inventive city own,

Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high, Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises Wisheth, poor starveling elf! his paper kite may fly.

known. And this perhaps, who, censuring the design, Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride Low lays the house which that of cards doth build, Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Shall Dennis be! if rigid fate incline,

Fam'd for her loyal cares in perils try'd, And many an epic to his rage shall yield;

Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave : And many a poet quit th’ Aonian field;

Ahl midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grav.

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Whose art did first these dulcet cates display!

The gracious prince that gave him life,
A motive fair to learning's imps he gave,

Would crown a never-dying flame;
Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray ; And every tender babe I bore
Till reason's mornarise, and light them on their way. Should learn to lisp the giver's name.

But though he should be dragg'd in scorn

To yonder ignominious tree;

He shall not want one constant friend
WRITTEN ABOUT THE TIME OF HIS EXECUTION, To share the cruel fates' decree.

O then her mourning-coach was callid,
Come listen to my mournful tale,

The sledge mov'd slowly on before;
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear;
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,

Though borne in a triumphal car,

She had not lov'd her favourite more.
Nor need you blush to shed a tear.
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,

She follow'd him, prepar'd to view

The terrible behests of law; Do thou a pensive ear incline;

And the last scene of Jemmy's woes,
For thou canst weep at every woe,

With calm and stedfast eye she saw.
And pity every plaint—but mine.
Young Dawson was a gallant boy,

Distorted was that blooming face,

Which she had fondly lov'd so long;
A brighter never trod the plain;
And well he lov'd one charming maid,

And stifled was that tuneful breath,

Which in her praise had sweetly sung:
And dearly was he lov'd again.

And sever'd was that beauteous neck,
One tender maid, she lov'd him dear,
Of gentle blood the damsel came;

Round which her arms had fondly clos'd;
And faultless was her beauteous form,

And mangled was that beauteous breast,

On which her love-sick head repos'd:
And spotless was her virgin fame.

And ravish'd was that constant heart,
But curse on party's hateful strife,
That led the favour'd youth astray ;

She did to every heart prefer;

For though it could its king forget,
The day the rebel clans appear’d,
O had he never seen that day!

'Twas true and loyal still to her. Their colours and their sash he wore,

Amid those unrelenting flames,

She bore this constant heart to see; And in the fatal dress was found;

But when 'twas moulder'd into dust,
And now he must that death endure,

Yet, yet, she cry'd, I follow thee.
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.
How pale was then his true-love's cheek,

My death, my death alone can show
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear!

The pure and lasting love I bore;

Accept, O Heav'n! of woes like ours,
For never yet did Alpine shows
So pale, or yet so chill appear.

And let us, let us weep no more.
With faultering voice, she weeping said,

The dismal scene was o'er and past, Oh Dawson, monarch of my heart;

The lover's mournful hearse retir'd; Think not thy death shall end our loves,

The maid drew back her languid head, For thou and I will never part.

And, sighing forth his name, expir'd. Yet might sweet mercy find a place,

Though justice ever must prevail, And bring relief to Jemmy's woes;

The tear my Kitty sheds is due: O George, without a pray’r for thee,

For seldom shall she hear a tale My orisons should never close.

So sad, so tender, yet so true.

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In Edwin's gentle heart, a war

Of differing passions strove : His heart, that durst not disobey,

Yet could not cease to love.

Deny'd her sight, he oft behind

The spreading hawthorn crept,
To snatch a glance, to mark the spot

Where Emma walk'd and wept.
Oft too on Stanmore's wintry waste,

Beneath the moonlight shade, In sighs to pour his soften'd soul,

The midnight mourner stray'd.
His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd,

A deadly pale o'ercast :
So fades the fresh rose in its prime,

Before the northern blast.

The parents now, with late remorse,

Hung o'er his dying bed; And weary'd Heaven with fruitless vows,

And fruitless sorrows shed.

Far in the windings of a vale,

Fast by a sheltering wood,
The safe retreat of health and peace,

An humble cottage stood.
There beauteous Emma flourish'd fair,

Beneath a mother's eye;
Whose only wish on earth was now

To see her blest, and die.
The softest blush that nature spreads

Gave colour to her cheek:
Such orient colour smiles through heaven,

When vernal mornings break.
Nor let the pride of great-ones scorn

This charmer of the plains:
That sun,

who bids their diamonds blaze,
To paint our lily deigns.
Long had she fill'd each youth with love,

Each maiden with despair;
And though by all a wonder own'd,

Yet knew not she was fair.
Till Edwin came, the pride of swains,

A soul devoid of art;
And from whose eye, serenely mild,

Shone forth the feeling heart.
A mutual flame was quickly caught,

Was quickly too reveal’d;
For neither bosom lodg'd a wish,

That virtue keeps conceal'd.
What happy hours of home-felt bliss

Did love on both bestow!
But bliss too mighty long to last,

Where fortune proves a foe.
His sister, who, like envy form’d,

Like her in mischief joy'd,
To work them harm, with wicked skill,

Each darker art employ'd.
The father too, a sordid man,

Who love nor pity knew,
Was all-unfeeling as the clod,

From whence his riches grew.

'Tis past! he cry'd--but if your souls

Sweet mercy yet can move, Let these dim eyes once more behold,

What they must ever love!

She came; his cold hand softly touch’d,

And bath'd with many a tear : Fast-falling o'er the primrose pale,

So morning dews appear.

But oh! his sister's jealous care,

A cruel sister she ! Forbade what Emma came to say;

“ My Edwin, live for me!”

Now homeward as she hopeless wept,

The church-yard path along, The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd

Her lover's funeral song.

Amid the falling gloom of night,

Her startling fancy found In every bush his hovering shade, His groan in every sound.

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