Virtue and fenfe I mean not to disjoin;

Virtue and fente are one: and trust me, he
Who has not virtue is not truly wife.
Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool)
Is fenfe and fpirit, with humanity:

'Tis fometimes angry, and its frown confounds;
'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance juft.

Armstrong

Knaves fain would laugh at it; fome great ones dare;

But at his heart the moft undaunted fon

Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms.
To noblest uses this determines wealth:
This is the folid pomp of profperous days:
The peace and fhelter of adverfity.

And if you pant for glory, build your fame
On this foundation, which the fecret fhock
Defies of Envy and all-fapping Time.
The gaudy glofs of Fortune only strikes
The vulgar eye: The fuffrage of the wife
The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'd
By fenfe alone, and dignity of mind,

Virtue the ftrength and beauty of the foul
Is the best gift of heaven: a happiness
That even above the fmiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth
That ne'er encumbers, nor to bafer hands
Can be transferred: it his the only good
Man juftly boafts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd;
Or dealt by chance, to fhield a lucky knavė.
Or throw a cruel fun-fhine on a fool.
But for one end, one much-neglected use,
Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence fupplied)

Armstrong. This noble end is, to produce the foul:
To fhew the virtues in their fairest light;
To make Humanity the Minifter

Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breaft
That generous luxury the Gods enjoy

Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly Sage`
Sometimes declaim'd. Of Right and Wrong he
taught

Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard:

And (ftrange to tell!) he practis'd what he preach'd.

So

Somervile.

1

Somervile,

William Somervile, (geb. 1692; geft. 1743;) ein angesehener englischer Landedelmann und Friedensrichter, und ein eifriger Liebhaber der schönen Literatur. Er vers suchte sich in mehrern Dichtungsarten, besonders auch in der dsopischen Fabel; in keiner aber mit so glücklichem Erfolg, als im Lehrgedichte, zu deffen Inhalte er die Jagd wählte, die er im frühern Theile feines Lebens eifrig betrieb, und im spåtern mit desto mehr Kenntniß besang. Dieß Gedicht, The Chafe, ift in reimlosen Jamben geschrieben, und besteht aus vier Büchern. In dem ersten wird eine kurze Geschich te von dem Ursprunge und Fortgange der Jagden vorausgez schickt, und dann von der Wahl, Wartung und Verschiedenheit der Jagdhunde gehandelt; in den beiden folgenden geht der Dichter die mancherlei Arten der Jagd, in Ansehung des Wildes, und des Verfahrens verschiedner Nationen, durch: und in dem lezten Buche trägt er noch verschiedne Jägervorschriften nach, die größtentheils wieder die Jagdhunde betreffen. Eachverständige geben, wie Dr. Johnson bemerkt, diesem Gedichte das Zeugniß, daß es durchgehends mit sehr richtiger Einsicht geschrieben sey; aber auch das poetische Verdienst ist nicht geringe, welches es durch Lebhaftigkeit des Tons, durch Abwechselung der Gegenstände, durch Schönheit der Bilder und des Vortrages, und durch leichte Verbindung der Theile, erhalten hat.

THE CHASE; B. II, v. 51-297.

Now golden Autumn from her open lap Her fragrant bounties fhow'rs; the fields are fhorn:

Inwardly fmiling, the proud farmer views

The rifing pyramids that grace his yard,

And counts his large increafe: his barns are ftor'd,

And

Somervile. And groaning staddles bend beneath their load.
All now is free as air, and the grey pack

In the rough briftly stubbles range unblam'd.
No widow's tears o'erflow, no fecret curle
Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips
Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord aw'd;
But courteous now he levels ev'ry fence,
Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
Charm'd with the ratt'ling thunder of the field.
Oh! bear me, fome kind Pow'r invifible!
To that extended lawn, where the gay court.
View the fwift racers, ftretching to the goal,
Games more renown'd, and a far nobler train,
Than proud Elean fields could boast of old;
Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here,
And Pindar's voice, to do their merit right;
Or to thofe fpacious plains, where the ftrain'd

eye

In the wide profpect loft, beholds at laft
Sarum's proud fpire, that o'er the hills afcends,
And pierces thro' the clouds; or to thy downs,
Fair Coltfwold! where the well-breath'd beagle
climbs,

With matchlefs fpeed; the green-afpiring brow,
And leaves the lagging multitude behind.

Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blufhing goddess,

hail!

way,

Rejoic'd I fee thy purple mantle spread
O'er half the fkies; gems pave thy radiant
And orient pearls from ev'ry fhrub depend.
Farewell, Cleora! here, deep funk in down,
Slumber fecure, with happy dreams amus'd,,
Till grateful fteams fhall tempt thee to receive
Thy early meal, or thy officious maids,
The toilette plac'd, fhall urge thee to perform
Th' important work. Me other joys invite;
The horn fonorous calls, the pack awak'd
Their matins chaunt, nor brook my long delay;
My courfer hears their voice: fee there! with ears

And

And tail erect, neighing he paws the ground:
Fierce rapture kindles in his redd'ning eyes,
And boils in ev'ry vein. As captive boys,
Cow'd by the ruling rod and haughty frowns
Of pedagogues fevere, from their hard tafks
If once dismifs'd, no limits can contain
The tumult rais'd within their little breafts,
But give a loose to all their frolic play;
So from their Kennel rush the joyous pack;
A thousand wanton gaieties exprefs
Their inward ecftafy, their pleafing sport
Once more indulg'd, and liberty restor❜d.
The rifing fun, that o'er th' horizon peeps,
As many colours from their gloffy fkins
Beaming reflects, as paint the various bow,
When April fhow'rs defcend. Delightful scene!
Where all around is gay, men, horfes, dogs,
And in each fmiling countenance appears
Fresh-blooming health and universal joy.

Huntsman! lead on; lehind the cluft'ring
pack

Submifs attend, hear with respect thy whip
Loud-clanging, and thy harfher voice obey.
Spare not the ftraggling cur, that wildly roves,
But let thy brifk affiftant on his back
Imprint thy just refentments; let each lash
Bite to the quick, till howling he return,
And whining creep amid the trembling croud.

Here on this verdant fpot, where Nature
kind

With double bleffings crowns the farmer's hopes,
Where flow'rs autumnal spring, and the rank mead
Affords the wand'ring hares a rich repaft,

Throw off thy ready pack. See where thy
Spread,

And range around, and dafh the glitt'ring dew!
If fome ftanch hound with his authentic voice
Avow the recent trail, the jostling tribe

At

Somervile..