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Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
Bacchus, ever fair and young, [comes !! See the furies arise,
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in the air,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his haud,
slair, Sweet is pleasure after pain.
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle nere Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain ;
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 high, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eves:
How they point to the Persian abode, And, while he heaven and earth defied, and gliti’ring temples of their hostile gods! Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
1 The Princes applaud, with a furious jus; lle chose a mourníul Muse,
And the king seis'd a flambeau with zeal, to Soft pity to infuse :
Thais led tlie way,
(destroy, He sung Darius great and good,
To light him to his prey, By too serere a fate,
And, like another Helen, wird another Troy. Fáll'n, fall'n, fall'n, fallin,
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 lyre On the bare earth expos'd be lies,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle sodi d. With not a friend to close his eyes.
At last divine Cecilia came, . With downcast look the joyless victor fato,! Inveniress of the vocal frame; Revolving in his alter's soul
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, The various turns of fate below;
Enlary'd the former narrow bounds, And now and then a sigh he stole;
And added length to solemn sounds, And tears began to flow.
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unku un
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 raisd a mortal to the skies, 'Twas but a kindred sound to move;
She drew an angel down.
100. An Epistle from Mr. Phillips te toe Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
Earl of Dorset. Copenhagen, March 9, 1709. War he sung his toil and trouble ; Honor but an empty bubble;
From frozen climes, and endless tracts of sace, Never ending, still beginning,
From streams that northern winds forbid to Fighting still, and still destroying :
flow. If the world be worth thy winning,
What present shall 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 rend the skies with loud applause; 11;
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods.
oud applause: The flow'r plains, and silver streaming toots So love was crown'l, but. music won the cause, The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
ise, By snow disguis’d, in bright confusion lie, Gaz'd on the fair
And with one dazzling waste fatigue che ere. Who caus'd his care,
Nogentle breathing breeze prepares the springs And sigh'd and look', sigh'ıl and look'a, 'The ships, womov'd, the boist'rous winds defe
No birds within the desert region sing.
,, "l'hile ratiling chariots a'cr the ocean fly. The vanquish'd vicior sunk upon her breast.
And spout his waters in the face of day. Now strike the golden lyre again ;
Tie starving wolves along the main sea prow!, 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 ratiling peal of thunder. Here spreads itself into a glassy plain : Hark, hark, the horrid sound
There solid billows, of enormous size, Has rais'd up his head,
| Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise, As awak'd froin the clearl,
land vet but lately have I seen, een here, ind amaz'd, he starcs around ! The winter in a lovely dress appear. .
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow, She visits oft the hamlet cot,
Of Ivarice and me.
But seem-or is it Fancy's dream? Soon as the silent shades of met withdrew,
Vethought a bright celestial gleam The ruddy morn disclos'il at once to view
Shot sudden thro' the grores ; The face of nature, in a rich disguise,
Behold, behold, in loose array, . And brightend ev'ry object to my eyes :
Euphrosyne, more bright than day, For ev'ry shrub, and ev'ry blade of grass,
Vlore mild than Paphian dores! And ev'ry pointed thorn,seein's wrougiu in glass; In pearls and rubies rich the han thorns show, I Welcome, oh welcome, Pleasure's queen! Il'hile 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 fieid.
With scatter'd flow'rs they fill the air;
| The wood-nymph's den-bespangled hair
The frighted birds the ratiling branches shun, | A soul alive to joy!
And leave th’unguarded heart a prey The briitle forest into atoms flies :
To cares that peace destroy. The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
And see, with visionary baste And in a spangled show'r the prospect ends;
|(Too soon) the cav delusion past, Or, if a southern gale the region warm,
Reality remains ! And by degrees unbind the wintry charm,
| Despair has seis'd my captive soul.; . The traveller a miry coutry sees,
And horror drives without control,
And slackens still the ruins.
To the distemper'd soul ?
| 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.
Ye were for misery made.
His wayward step then pensive took
$ 102. Monody to the Memory of a Young Lady, Along the vale of flow'rs!
SHAW. 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 glads the midnight hours !
This worse than hunger, poverty, or pain, For me, alas! the god of day,
Or all the complicated ills below ? Ne’er glitters on the hawthorn spray,
She, in whose life my hopes were treasur'd all, Nor night her comfort brings:
Is gone -- for ever fled 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. Nor Philomela sivgs.
Ah no — she lives on some far happicr shore,
She lives -- but (cruel thoughi!) she lives for See how the sturdy peasants stride
me no more. Adown yon hillock's verrant side,
I, who the tedious absence of a day (sight; In checrful ign'rance blest!
Remov’d, would languish for my charmer's Alike to them the rose or thorn,
Would chide the lingering moments for relay, Alike arises every inorn,
And fondly blame the slow return of nights By gay contentment drest.
How, how shall I endure Content, fair daugnter of the skies,
(1) misery past a cure!) Or gives spontaneous, or denies,
Hours, days, and years, successively to roll, Her choice divinely free-:
Vor ever inore behold the comfort of my soul?
Was Was she not all my fondest wish could frame? But, ah! in vain-no change of time or Dirl ever mind so much of heaven partake?! The memory can efface
(place Did she nor love me with the purest Hamc? Of all that sweetness, that enchanting air, And give up friends and furtune for my sake? Now lost; and nought remains but anguish
Though mild as evening skies, 1 and despair.
With downcast, streaining eyes, Where were the delegates of Heav'n, oh where Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows, I 'Appointed Virtue's children safe to keep? Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful to her Had'Innocence or Virtue been their care, vows.
| She had not died, nor had I liv'd to weep: Come then, sume Muse, the saddest of the train Mov'd by iny tears, and by her patience mov'd,
(No more your bard shall dwell on idle lays) To see or force ih' endearing smile, Teach me each moving melancholy strain,
My sorrow's to beguile,
Which broke her thread of life, and rent a
husband's heart. My soul may own th' impassion'd line: How shall I e'er forget that dreadful hour, A Hood of tears may gush io my relief, fof grier. When, feeling Death's resistless pow'r, And from my swelling heart discharge this load My hand she press'd, wet with her falling teari, 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 ; 1" 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
I“ If e'er thy vow's have chara'd my ravishd Beain'd forth the beauties of her mind,
"ear; Yet heightend by exterior grace,
“ If, froni thy lov'd embrace my heart to gain, Of manners most çngaging, most refin'd! most refinid! Proud friends have frown'd, and Fortune
"rsmild in vain ; No piteous object could she see,
“If it has been my sole endeavour still But her soft bosom shar'd the woe,
“ To act in all obsequious to thy will; While siniles of affability
" To watch thy very sıniles, thy wish to know, Endeard whatever boon she might bestow,
" Then only truly blest when thou wert so; Whatcerih' einotions of her licari,
“If I have doated with that fund excess, Suill shone conspicuous in her eyes,
“ Nor Lure could add, nor Fortune make it less; Stranger to every feinale art,
“ If this I've done, and more-oh then be kind Alike to feign or to disguise :
1" To the dear lovely babe I leave behind. And, oh the boast how rare !
y“ When tiniemyonce-lor'd memory shallefface, The secret in her faithful breast repos'd
“ Some happier maid may take thy Emma's She ne'er with lawless tongue disclosis,
“place, In secret silence lodg'd inviolate there.
With envious eyes thy partial fondness see, Oh feeble words - unable to express
" And hate it, for the love thou bor'st to me: Iler matchless virtues, or my own distress!
• My dearest Shaw, forgive a woman's fears; Relentless death! that, steeld to human woe, “ Butone word more - I cannot bearthy tears With murd'rous hands deals havoc on man- “ Promise and I will trust thy faithful vox kind. .
“ (Oft have I tried, and never found thee true) 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 wingid 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'il 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 “ Aud, in that pleasing hope, thy Emma dies "Tis thine ihy 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 l'irrue shall renounce thy pow'r ; | But sink beneath the weight: [day 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 kpows; Alas the day! - Where'er I turn my eyes, Misfortune still, with unrelenting sway,
Some sad memento of my loss appears ; Has claim'd ine for her own.
This only source of bliss; I ask a sk no mort
- Vain hope th' irrevocable doom is past,
Again with transport hear Evin now she looks - she sighs her last
Her voice soft whispering in my ear; ; Vainly 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.
But, ah! th' unwelcome inorn's vbtruding light ; When the stern tyrant clos'd her lovely eyes, Will all my shadowy schemes of bliss depose,
How did I rave, untaucht 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? ile Fond man forbear,
'[lead: Her lovely form pursues where'er I go, Thy fruitless sorrow spare, [creed ; Andrlarkens all the scene with woe. • Dare not to ask what Heave:i's high will de- By Nature's lavish bounties cheer'd no more, * In humble rev'rence kiss th' afllictive 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 ny loss restore ; Some saving truth ihy roving soul to teach ;
No herb, no plant, can med'cine my disease, "To wean thy heart from grovelling views below,
| And my sad sighs are borne on ev'ry passing And point out bliss beyond misfortune's reach :
Sickness and sorrow hov'ring round my bed, To show that all the fatt'ring schemes of joy, Whouow withanxious haste shall bring relief, Which tow'ring Hope so fondly builds in air, With lenient hand support my drooping head, 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,
Impatient for my quick return ?
Shall smooth the rugged brow of Care,
And soften all my woes?
Too faithful Memory cease, oh cease
How shall I c'er regain my peace ? -- 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 a while, 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 : ,
| Andthysweet lisping tongue shallaskthecause, Serenely sorrowing, breathes its piteous case,
| How oft with sorrow shall mine eyes run o'er, Aud 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,ấyer, yet the tears will fow,
Wi Sad memory of muy joys -ah, now no more! Lie To think how soon my scene of bliss is past ! Bu bassin
past. By blessings once enjoy'd now more distress'd, My budding joys, just promising to blow,
More beggar by the riches once possessid, 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 caus'
d oh, strange Move heavily along;
song? to hear! Where'snow the sprightly jest, 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!
Thy iv fant steps to guide aright? Where shall I rest my weary head?
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 Thchan drag*, the wretch's only aid, By all thy soft endearmenis 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 I shall behold my Emma's face, - As yet unconscious of thy hapless fate, Laudanym,
When When years thy judgement shall mature, Tell me, thou Syren Hope, deceiver, say, And Reason shows thosc ills it cannot cure, Where is thy promis d period of my woes?
Wilt thou a father's grief t' assuage, | Full three long ling'ring years have roli'd away, For virtue prove the Phænix of the earth
And yet I weep a stranger to reposc: (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,
“ Fler last bequest, with all a mother's care,
• 1". The bitterness of sorrow should remore, Will thou iny Emma's wonted care supply?
“Soften the horrors of despair, And oft as to thy listening car
“ 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,
Gazing enraptur'd on its angel-face,
Illy soul the maze of Fate would rainly trace,
And burn with all a father's fond alarms! Whene'er thou seest the soft distress,
And oh what flatt'ring scenes had fancy feign'd! Which I would vainly seek to hide,
How did I rave of blessings yet in store! Say, wilt thou strive to inake it less ?
Till ev'ry aching sense was sweety paind, To sooth niy sorrows all thy cares employ, And in my cup of grief, infuse one drop of joy?
four! And my full heart could bear, nor tongue
could utter more.
" Just Heaven!" I cried, with recent hopes elate, $103. An Evening Address to a Nightingale. “ Yet will I live-willlive thro'Emma'sdeads
Shaw. “Solong bow'd down beneath the storms of fate,
" Yet will I raise my woe-dejected head! Sweet bird! that, kindly perching near,
" My little Emma, now my all, Pourest thy plaints melodious in mine ear;
" Will want a father's care ; Not, like base, worldlings, tutor'l to forego
“ Her looks, her wants, niy rash resolres recal, The melancholy haunts of woe;
I “ 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,
" Complaint the only bliss my soul can knof; Like me, ihe pangs of hapless love; Else why so feelingly complain, (grove:
“From ine 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 pow'r, Or has the cruel hand of Fate
W“ With duteous zeal her hand shall close, Bereft thee of thy darling young?
|« No more to weep, nysorrow-streamingeves, Alas! for both I weep:
" When death gives misery repose, In all the pride of youthfuil 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, I · 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 ia the skies. I. 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 deen'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 year ::
As if unconscious of poetic fire, The genial warmth of jay renewing spring
I ne'er had touch'd the trenbling lyre; Again shall plume thy shatter'd wing;
As if my niggard hand ne'er dealt relief, Again thy little heart shall transport prove, Nor 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, slove. While yet my tongue can form th'impassjon'd Noughi can dry up the fountain of my tears:
strain, Deploring still the confort of my soul, 1 In piteous accents shall the muse complain, I count nry sorrows by increasing years. And dwell with fond delay on blessings past :