He

prey,

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,

Bacchus, ever fair and young, (comes ! See the furies arise,
Drinking joys did first örlain :

See the snakes that they rear,
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,

How they hiss in the air,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Rich the treasure,

Behold a ghastly band,
Sweet the pleasure ;

Each a torch in his hand, (slain
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew rain ;

And unburied remain Fought all his battles o'er again;

Inglorious on the plain; And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice

Give the vengeance due he slew the slain.

To the valiant crew : The master saw the madness rise : Behold how they toss their torches on hic, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eves;

How they point to the Persian abodes, And, while he heaven and earth defied, sind glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods ! Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.

The Princes applaud, with a furious jon; lle chose a mournful Muse,

And the King scis'd a flambeau with zeal, to
Thais led the way,

[destroy Soft pity to infuse : sung Darius great and good,

To light him to his By too severe a fate,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'ı,

Thus, long ago, Fall'n from his high estate,

Ere heavenly bellows learnt to blow, And welt'ring in his blood;

While organs yet'were mute ; Deserted at his utmost need

Timotheus to his breathing flute By those his former bounty fed,

And sounding lyrc

[sire On the bare earth exposid he lies,

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soit de. With not a friend to close his eyes.

At list divine Cecilia came, With downcast look the jovless victor fate, Inveniress of the vocal fraine ; Revolving in his alter'd soul

The sweet euthusiast, from her sacred store, The various turns of fate below;

Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds, And now and then a sigh he stole;

And added length to solemın sounds, And tears began to flow.

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown

Let old Timotheus yield the prize, [before, The mighty master smild to see

Or both divide the crown ; That love was in the next degree :

He raiad a mortal to the skies, 'Twas but a kindred sound to move;

She drew an angel down. For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, $ 100. An Epistle from Mr. Phillips to the Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.

Earl of Dorset. Copenhagen, March 9, 1709. W'ar he sung his toil and trouble;

From frozen climes, and endless tracts of spok, Honor but an empty bubble ; Never ending, still beginning,

From streams that northern winds forbid to

flow. Fighting still, and still destroying : If the world be worth thy winning,

What present sijall the Muse to Dorset bring, Think, oh think it worth enjoying !

Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing?

The hoary winter here conceals from sight Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee,

All pleasing objects that to verse invite. The many rerid the skies with loud applause; The How'ry plains, and silver streaming foods.

The hills and dales, and the delightful wooks. So love was crown't, but. music won the cause, By snow disguis’d, in bright confusion lie, The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eve. Gaz'd on the fair Who caus'd his care,

Nogentle breathing breeze prepares the spring

No birds within the desert region sing. And sigh'd and look’d, sigh'd and look'd, The ships, unmov'd, the boist'rous winds defis ,

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again : At length, with love and wine at once oppressid, Tie vast Leviathan wants room to play,

"l'hile rattling chariots a'er the ocean fly. The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

and spout his waters in the face of day. Now strike the golden lyre again ;

The starving wolves along the main sca prowl, And louder, yet, and yei a louder strain. And to the moon in icy valleys howl. Break his bands of sleep asunder,

For many a shining league the lerel main, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Here spreads itself into a glassy plain : Hark, hark, the horrid sound

There solid billows, of enormons size, Has rais'd up his head,

Mps of green jce, in wild disorder rise, As awak'd from the dead,

And yet but lately have I seen, e'en here, vind amaz'd, he starcs around !

The winter in a lovely dress appear.

Fre yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow, She visits oft the hamlet cot,
Or winds begun tiro' hazy skies to blow, When Want and Sorrow are the lot
At ev'ning a keen eastern brecze arose ;

Of Avarice and me.
And the descending rain unsullied froze.

But see-or is it Fancy's dream? Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,

Mlethonght a bright celestial gleam
The ruddy morn disclos'il at once to view Shot sudden thro' the groves ;
The face of nature, in a rich disguise,

Behold, behold, in loose array,
And brighten'd ev'ry object to my ches : Euphrosyne, more bright ihan day,
For ev'ry shrub, and ev'ry blade of grass,

More mild than Paphian doves!
And ev'ry pointed thorn, seein's wrongitinglass;
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, Welcome, oh welcome, Pleasure's queen!
While thro' the ice the crimson berries glow.

And see, along the velvet green
The thick-sprung reeds the wai’ry marshes yield

The jocund train advance :
Seem polish'd lances in a hostile field. With scatter'd flow'rs they fill the air;
The flag, in limpid currents, with suririse

The wood-nymph's dev-bespangled hair
Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise. Plays in the sportive dance.
The spreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine, Ah! baneful grant of angry Heaven,
Glaz'd over, in the freezing æther shine. When to the feeling wretch is given
The frighted birds the rattling branches slun, A soul alive to joy!
That wave and glitter in the distant sun. Joys fly with every

hour

away, When, if a sudden gust of wind arise, Aúd leave th’unguarded heart a prey The brittle forest into atoms fliez :

To cares that peace destroy. The crackling wood beneath the iempest bends,

And see, And in a spangled show'r the prospect ends;

with visionary laste Or, if a southern gale the region warm,

(Too soon) the gay delusion past, And by degrees unbind the wintry charm,

Reality remains? The traveller a miry country sees,

Despair has seis'd my captive soul;

And horror drives without control,
And journey sad beneath the dropping trees.

And slackens still the reins.
Like some deluded peasant Merlin leads
Thro' fragrant bow'rs, and thro delicious ineads ; Ten thousand beauties round me throng;
While here enchanting gardens to him rise,

What beauties, say, ye nymphıs, belong
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,

To the distemper'd soul ? His wand'ring feet the magic paths pursuez

I see the lawn of hideous dye ;
And, while he thinks the fair illusion true, The towering elm nods misery;
The trackless scenes disperse in fluid air, With groans the waters roll.
And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways appear, Ye gilded roofs, Palladian domes,
A tedious road the weary wretch reiurns, Ye vivid tints of Persia's looms,
And, as he goes, the transient vision mourns.

Ye were for misery made.--
'Twas thus, the Man of Sorrow spoke;

llis wayward step then pensive took § 101. The Man of Sorrore. GREVILLE.

Along th' unhallow'd shade.
Ah! what avails the lengthening mcad,
By Nature's kindest bounty spread

$ 102. Monody to the Memory of a Young Lady:

Shaw: Along the vale of flow'rs! Ah! what avails the darkening grore,

Yet do I live? Oh how shall I sustain Or Philomel's melodious love,

This vast unutterable weight of woe? That glaxis the inidnight hours !

This worse than hunger, poveriy, or pain, For me, alas! the god of day,

Or all the complicated ills below ?

She, in whose life my hopes were trcasu'd all, Ne'er glitters on the hawthorn spray, Nor night her comfort brings:

Is gone--for ever fed I have no pleasure in the rose;

My dearest Emma's dead; For me no vernal beauty blows,

These eyes, these tear-swoln eyes beheld her fall.

Ah noNor Philomela sings.

she lives on some far happier shore,

She lives but (cruel thought!) she lives for See how the sturdy peasants stride. Adown yon hillock's verdant side,

I, who the tedious absence of a day [sight; In checrful ign’rance blest!

Remov'd, would languis for inr charmer's Alike to them the rose or thorn,

Would chide the lingering moments for relay, Alike arises every inom,

And fondly blaure the slow return of nights By gay contentment drest.

How, how shall I endure Content, fair daughter of the skies,

(O misery past a cure!) Or gives spontaneous, or denies,

Hours, days, and years, successively to roll, Her choice divinely free:

Nor ever inore behold the comfort of my soul ?

Was

me no more.

VOWS.

“ ear;

(

Was she not all my fondest wish could frame? But, ah! in vain-no change of time or

Did ever mind so much of heaven partake? The memory can efface (place Did she not love me with the purest Hame? Of all that sweetness, that enchanting air, And give up friends and fortune for my sake? Now lost; and nought remains but anguish Though mild as evening skies,

and despair. With downcast, streaining eyes, Where were the delegates of Heav'n, oh where Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows, Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful to her Had Innocence or Virtue been their care,

Appointed Virtue's children safe to keep?

She had not died, nor had I liv'd to weep: Come then, some Muse, the saddest of the train Mov'd by my tears, and by her patience mord,

(No more your bard shall dwell on idle lays) To see or force thendearing smile, Teach me cach moving melancholy strain,

My sorrows to beguile,
And ob discard the pageantry of phrase : When Torture's keenest rage shc prov'd;
Ill suits the flow'rs of specch with wocs like mine! Sure they had warded that untimely dart,
Thus, haply, as I paint

Which broke her thread of lifc, and rent a
The source of iny complaint,

husband's heart. My coul may own thi' impassion'd' line : How shall I e'er forget that dreadful hour, A Hood of rears may gushio my relief, (of gries. When, feeling Death's resistless pow'r,. And from my swelling heart discharge this load My hand she press 'd, wet with her falling tears, Forbear, my fond officious friends, forbear

And thus, in falt'ring accents, spoke her fears : To wound iny ears with the sad tales you tell ; " Ah, my lov'd lord, the transient scene is o'er, “llow good she was, low gentle,and how fair!" “And we must part, alas! to meet no more! In pity cease-alas ! I know too well

“But oh! if c'er thy Emma's name was dear, How in her sweet expressive face

“If e'er ihy vows have charni'd my ravishd Beain d forth the beauties of her mind, Yet heighten'd by exterior grace,

“If, froni thy lov'd embrace my heart to gain, Of maupers most engaging, most refin'd! “ Proud friends have frown'd, and Fortune

"smil'd in vain ; No piteous object could she see,

“If it has been my sole endeavour still But her soft bosom shard the woe,

To act in all obsequious to thy will; While siniles of affability

“To watch thy very sıniles, thy wish to know, Endear'd whatever boon she might bestow.

“Then only truly blest when thou wert so; Whatcerth' einotions of her licart,

“If I have doated with that fond excess, Sull shone conspicuous in her eyes,

“ Nor Lure could add, nor Fortune make it less; Stranger to every female art,

“ If this I've donc, and more-oh then be kind Alike to feign or to disguise :

“To the dear lovely babe I leave behind. And, oh the boast how rare !

" When tinc myonce-lov'd memory shall efface, The secret in her faithful breast repos'd

“Some lappier maid may take thy Emma's She ne'er with lawless tongue disclos's),

“place, In secret silence lodg'd inviolate there. Oh feeble words -- unable to express

“ With envious eyes thy partial fondness see,

" And hate it, for the love thou bor'st to me: ller matchless virtues, or my own distress!

• My dearest Shaw, forgive a woman's fears; Relentless death! that, steel'd to human woe, “Butone word more - I cannot bear thy tears With murd'rous hands deals havoc on man- “ Promiise--and I will trust thy faithful row kind.

“ (Oft have I tried, and never found thee irue) Why (cruel!) strike this deprecated blow, That to some distant spot thou wilt remote

And leave such wretched multitudes behind? “ This fatal pledge of hapless Emma's love, Hark! groans come wing'd on ev'ry breeze! “Where safe thy blandishments it may partake,

The sons of grief prefer their ardent vow, “ And, oh! be tender, for its mother's sake. Oppress'd with sorrow, want,

or dire disease, "Wilt thou ? And supplicate thy aid, as I do now : I know thou wilt-sad silence speaks assent; In vain perverse, still on th' unweeting head" And, in that pleasing hope, thy Empia dies "Tis thine thy vengeful darts to shed ;

“ content." Hope's infant blossoms to destroy,

I, who with more than manly strength have bore And drench in tears the face of joy.

The various ills impos'd by cruel Fate, But oh, fell tyrant! yet expect the hour Sustain the firmness of my soul no more, When Virtue shall renounce thy pow'r;

But sink beneath the weight:

(Jay When thou no more shall blot the face of day, Just Heav'n! I cried, from memory's earliest Nor mortals treinble at thy rigid sway.

Nocomfort has thy wretched suppliant known; Alas the day! -- where'er I turn my eyes, Misfortune still, with unrelenting sway, Some sad memento of ny loss appears ;

Has claim'd ine for her own. I Ay the fatal house--suppress my sighs, But oh! in pity to my grief, restora Kesolu'd to dry my unavailing tears ; This only source of bliss; lask-I ask no more

[creed;

Vain hope — th' irrevocable doom is past, Again with transport hear
Evn now she looks — she sighs her last

Her voice soft whispering in my ear;
l'ainly I strive to stay her fleeting breath, May steal once more a balıny kiss,
And, with rebellious heart, protest against her and taste at least of visionary bliss.
death.

But, ah! th' unwelcome morn's obtruding light When the stern tyrant clos'd her lovely eyes, Will all my shadowy schemes of bliss depose,

How did I rave, untaught to bear the blow! Will tear the dear illusion from my sight,
With impious wish to tear her from the skies, And wake me to the sense of all my woes :

How curse my fate in bitterness of woe! If to the verdant fields I stray.
But whither would this dreadful phrensy Alas! what pleasures now can these convey?
Fond man forbear,

[lead? Her lovely form pursues where'er 1 go,
Thy fruitless sorrow spare,

And darkens all the scene with woe. Dare not to ask what leave:'s high will de-By Nature's lavish bounties cheer'd no more, · Iu humble rev'rence kiss th' afflictive rod,

Sorrowing I rose And prostrate bow to an offended God.

Through valley, grot, and grove; Perhaps kind Heaven in mercy dealt the blow, Nought can their beauties or my loss restore ;

Some saving truth ihy roving soul to teach; No herb, no plant, can med'cine my disease, To vean thy heart from grovelling views below, And my sad sighs are borne on ev'ry passing

breeze. And point out bliss beyond misfortune's reach :

Sickness and sorrow hov'ring round my bed, To show that all the flatt'ring schemes of joy, Whouow withanxious haste shall bring relief, Which tow'ring Hope so fondly builus in air, With lenient hand support my drooping head, 1 One fatal momeni can destroy,

Assnage my pains, and mitigate my grief? And plunge th' exulting maniac in despair. Should worldly business call away, Then, oh! with pious fortitude sustain

Who now shall in my absence fondly mourn,
Thy present loss -- haply thy future gain ; Count ev'ry minute of ihe loit’ring day,
Nor let thy Emma die in vain :

Impatient for my quick return?
Time shall administer its wonted balm, (calin. Should ought my bosom discompose,
And hush this storm of grief w no impleasing Who now, with sweet complacent air,
Thus the poor bird, by some disastrous fate

Shall smooth the rugged brow of Care,

And soften
Caught, and imprison'd in a lonely cage,
Torn from its native fields, and dearer mate,

Too faithful Memory-cease, oh cease

How shall l'e'er regain my peace ?
Flutters awhile, and spends its little rage :
But finding all its efforts weak and vain,

(Oh, to forget her!)- but how vain each art, No more it pants and rages for the plain ;

Whilst ev'ry virtue lives imprinted on my heart ! Moping awhile, in sullen mood

And thou, my little cherub, left behind, Droops the sweet inourner -- but ere long

To hear a father's plaints, to share his woes, - Prunes its light wings, and pecks its foud,

When reason's dawn informs thy infint mind, And malitates the song:

And thy sweet lisping tongue shallaskthecause, Serenely sorrowing, breathes its piteous case,

How oft with sorrow shall mine eyes run o'er, ] And with its plaintive warblings saddens all

When, twining round my knees, I trace the place.

Thy mothers smile upon ihy face !

llow oft to my full heart shalt thou restore Forgiveme, Heaven,—yet, yet the tears will flow; Sad memory of my joys-- ah, now no more!

To think how soon my scene of bliss is past! By blessings once enjoy'd now more distress'd, My budding joys, just promising to blow,

More beggar by the riches once possess'd, All nipp'd and wither'd by one envious blast! My little darling! - dearer to me grown My hours, that laughing wont to fleet away, By all the tears thou'st causid oh, strange Move heavily along;

[song?

to hear! Where's now the sprightlyjest,the jocund Bought with a life yet dearer than thy own, Time creeps, unconscious of delight:

Thy cradle purchas'd with thy mother's bier : How shall I'cheat the tedious day ;

Who now shall seek, with fond delight, And oh - the joyless night! Where shall I rest my weary head?

Thy in fant steps to guide aright?

She, who with doating eyes would gaze How shall I find repose on a sad willow'd bed? On all thy little artless ways, Come Thehan drug*, the wretch's only aid, By all thy soft endearments blest,

To my torn heart its foriner peace restore ; And clasp thee oft with transport to her breast Thy votary, wrapp'd in thy Lethean shade, Alas! is gone - yet shalt thou prove

Awhile shall cease his sorrows to deplore ; A father's dearest, tenderest love ; Haply, when lock'd in sleep's embrace, And, O sweet senseless smiler, (envied state !) Again shall behold my Emma's face, As yet unconscious of thy hapless fate, ! Laudanym,

When

my woes?

When years thy judgement shall mature, Tell me, thou Syren Hope, deceiver, say, And Reason shows thosc ills it cannot cure, Where is thy promisid period of my woes?

Wilt thou a father's grief t' assuage, Full three long ling'ring years have rolld away', For virtue prove the Phoenix of the earth And yet I weep a stranger to repose : (Like her, thy mother died to give thee birth) O what delusion did thy tongue employ!

And be the comfort of my age ? “ That Emma's fatal pledge of love, When sick and languishing I die,

“Her last bequest, with all a mother's care,

" The bitterness of sorrow should remore, Wilt thou my Emma's wonte care supply?

“ Soften the horrors of despair, And oft as to thy listening ear

“ And cheer a heart long lost to joy!" Thy mother's virtues and her fate I tell,

How oft, when fondling in my arms,
Say wilt thou drop the tender tear,
Whilst on the mournful theme I dwell?

Gazing enraptur'd on its angel-face,

My soul the maze of Fale would rainly trace, Then, fondly stealing to thy father's side,

And burn with all a father's fond alarms! Whene'er thou seest the soft distress, Which I would vainly seek to hide,

And oh what flatt'ring scenes had fancy feign'd! Say; wilt thou strive to inake it less ?

How did I rave of blessings yet in store!

Till ev'ry aching sense was sweetly pain d, To sooth ny sorrows all thy cares employ,

And iny full heart could bear, nor tongue And in my cup of grief, infuse one drop of joy?

could utter more.

“ Just Heaveur!" I cried, with recent hopes elate, $. 103. An Evening Address to a Nightingale. " Yet will I live-willlive thro'Emma's deada

SHAW. • So long bow'd down beneath the storms of fate; Sweet bird! that, kindly perching near,

“ Yet will I raise my woe-dejected head!

" My little Emma, now my all, Poutest thy plaints melodious ini mine ear; " Will want a father's care ; Not, like base, worldlings, tutor'rl to forego

“ Her looks, her wants, my rash resolres recal, The melancholy haunts of woe ;

“ And, for her sake, the ills of life I'll bear: Thanks for thy sorrow-soothing strain :

“ And oft together we 'll complain, For, surely, thou hast known to prove, Like we, che pangs of hapless love;

Complaint the only bliss my soul can knof: Else why so feelingly complain, grove

“ From me my child shall learn the mournful

strain, And with ihy piteous notes thus sadden all the

“ And prattle tales of woe. Say, dust thou mourn thy ravish'd mate,

“ And, oh! in that auspicious hour, That oft enamour’d on thy strains has hung?

“When fate resigns her persecuting pou'r, Or has the cruel band of Fate

“ With duteous zeal her hand shall close, Bereft thee of thy darling young ?

“ Nomore to weep, niysorrow-streamingeres, Alas! för both I weep:

o When death gives misery repoše, In all the pride of youthful charms, A beauteous bride torn from my circling arms

“And opes a glorious passage to the skies." A lovely babe, that should have liv'd to bless, Vain thought!.it must not be -- she too is dead, And fill iny doating eyes with frequent tears,

The flattering scene is o'er; Ai once the source of rapture and distress, My hopes for ever, ever fleil ; ; The flattering prop of my declining years !

And vengeance can no more. In vain from death to rescue I essay'd,

Crush'd by misfortune, blasted by disease, By ev'ry art that science could devise ;

And none none left to bear a friendly part! Alas! it languish'd for a mother's aid, To meditate my welfare, health, or ease,

And wing'd its tight to seek her in the skies. Or sooth the anguish of an aching heart! Then, oh! our comforts be the same,

Now all one gloomy scene, till welcome death, At evening's peaceful hour,

With lenient hand (oh falsely deeni'd severe), TO shun the noisy paths of wealth and fame, Shall kindly stop my grief-exhausted breath, And breathe our sorrows in this lonely

And dry up ev'ry tear. bow'r.

Perhaps, obsequious to my will, But why, alas ! to thee complain,

But ah! from my affections far remov'd! To thee- unconscious of my pain?

The last sad office strangers my fulfil, Suon shalt thou cease to inourn thy lot severe,

As if I ne'er had been belov'd ; And hail the dawning of a happier ycar ::

As if unconscious of poetic fire, The genial warmth of joy renewing spring

I ne'er had touchd the trembling lyre ; Again shall plame thy shatter'd wing;

As if my niggard hand ne'er dealt relief,

Nor Again thy little heart shall transport prove,

my heart melted at another's grief. Ayain shall Aow thy notes responsive to thy Yet, while this weary life shall last, But, oh! for me in vain may seasons roll, [love. While yet iny tongue can form th'impassion d

Nonghi can dry up the fountain of my tears: strain, Deploring still the couifort of my soul, In piteous accents shall the muse complain,

I count nry sorrows by increasing years. : And dwell with fond delay on blessings past :