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My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,

But with my numbers mix my sighs ; And, whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,

I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.

Fair Chloe blush'd : Euphelia frown'd;
I

sung, and gaz'd; I play'd and trembled : And Venus to the Loves around

Remark’d, how ill we all dissembled.

THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.

In imitation of a Greek Idyllium.
Celia and I, the other day,
Walk'd o'er the sand-hills to the sea:
The setting Sun adorn'd the coast,
His beams entire, his fierceness lost :
And, on the surface of the deep,
The winds lay only not asleep:
The nymph did like the scene appear,
Serenely pleasant, calmly fair :
Soft fell her words, as flew the air.
With secret joy I heard her say,
That she would never miss one day
A walk so fine, a sight so gay.

But, oh the change! the winds grow high ; Impending tempests charge the sky;

The lightning flies, the thunder roars,
And big waves lash the frighten'd shores.
Struck with the horror of the sight,
She turns her head, and wings her flight:
And, trembling, vows she'll ne'er again
Approach the shore, or view the main.

Once more, at least, look back," said I,
Thyself in that large glass descry:
When thou art in good-humor drest;
When gentle reason rules thy breast;
The Sun upon the calmest sea
Appears not half so bright as thee :
'Tis then that with delight I rove
Upon the boundless depth of Love :
I bless my chain; I hand my oar;
Nor think on all I left on shore.

“ But when vain doubt and groundless fear
Do that dear foolish bosom tear;
When the big lip and watery eye
Tell me the rising storm is nigh;
"Tis then, thou art yon angry main,
Deform'd by winds, and dash'd by rain;
And the poor sailor, that must try
Its fury, labors less than I.

Shipwreck’d, in vain to land I make, While Love and Fate still drive me back : Forc'd to dote on thee thy own way, I chide thee first, and then obey. Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh, I with thee, or without thee, die.”

JOHN GAY.

mercer.

JOHN Gay, a well-known poet, was born at or near some South-sea stock presented to him by secretary Barnstaple, in Devonshire, in 1688. After an edu- Craggs, raised his hopes of fortune at one time to a ration at the free-school of Barnstaple, he was sent considerable height; but the loss of the whole of to London, where he was put apprentice to a silk- this stock affected him so deeply as to throw him

A few years of negligent attendance on into a dangerous degree of languor, for his recovery the duties of such a station procured him a separa- from which he made trial of the air of Hampstead. tion by agreement from his master; and he not long He then wrote a tragedy called “ 'The Captives," afterwards addicted himself to poetical composition, of which was acted with applause; and in 1726, he which the first-fruits were his “ Rural Sports,” pub- composed the work by which he is best known, his ished in 1711, and dedicated to Pope, then first rising " Fables," written professedly for the young Duke to fame. In the following year, Gay, who possessed of Cumberland, and dedicated to him. In the manmuch sweetness of disposition, but was indolent and ner of narration there is considerable ease, together improvident, accepted an offer from the Duchess of with much lively and natural painting, but they will Monmouth to reside with her as her secretary. He hardly stand in competition with the French fables had leisure enough in this employment to produce of La Fontaine. Gay naturally expected a handin the same year his poem of “Trivia, or the Art of some reward for his trouble ; but upon the accession Walking the Streets of London,” which proved one of George II. nothing better was offered him than of the most entertaining of its class. It was much the post of gentleman-usher to the young Princess admired; and displayed in a striking manner that Louisa, which he regarded rather as an indignity talent for the description of external objects which than a favor, and accordingly declined. peculiarly characterized the author.

The time, however, arrived when he had little In 1714, he made his appearance from the press occasion for the arts of a courtier to acquire a degree on a singular occasion. Pope and Ambrose Philips of public applause greater than he had hitherto exhad a dispute about the respective merits of their perienced. In 1727, his famous “Beggar's Opera" pastorals ; upon which, Gay, in order to serve the was acted at Lincolns-inn-fields, after having been cause of his friend, undertook to compose a set of refused at Drury-lane. To the plan of burlesquing pastorals, in which the manners of the country should the Italian operas by songs adapted to the most be exhibited in their natural coarseness, with a view familiar tunes, he added much political satire de. of proving, by a sort of caricature, the absurdity of rived from his former disappointments; and the rePhilips's system. The offer was accepted ; and sult was a composition unique in its kind, of which Gay, who entitled his work “ The Shepherd's the success could not with any certainty be foreseen. Week," went through the usual topics of a set of It will either (said Congreve) take greatly, or be pastorals in a parody, which is often extremely damned confoundedly.” Its fate was for some time humorous. But the effect was in one respect dif- in suspense; at length it struck the nerve of public ferent from his intended purpose ; for his pictures taste, and received unbounded applause. It ran of rural life were so extremely natural and amusing, through sixty-three successive representations in the and intermixed with circumstances so beautiful and metropolis, and was performed a proportional numtouching, that his pastorals proved the most popular ber of times at all the provincial theatres. Its songs works of the kind in the language. This perform- were all learned by heart, and its actors were raised ance was dedicated to Lord Bolingbroke; and at to the summit of iheatric fame. This success, in. this period Gay seems to have obtained a large share deed, seems to indicate a coarseness in the national of the favor of the Tory party then in power. He taste, which could be delighted with the repetition was afterwards nominated secretary to the Earl of of popular ballad-tunes, as well as a fondness for the Clarendon, in his embassy to the court of Hanover; delineation of scenes of vice and vulgarity. Gay but the death of Queen Anne recalled him from his himself was charged with the mischiefs he had thus, situation, and he was advised by his friends not to perhaps unintentionally, occasioned; and if the neglect the opportunity afforded him to ingratiate Beggar's Opera delighted the stage, it encountered himself with the new family. He accordingly wrote more serious censure in graver places than has been a poetical epistle upon the arrival of the Princess of bestowed on almost any other dramatic piece. By Wales

, which compliment procured him the honor making a highwayman ihe hero, he has incurred the of the attendance of the prince and princess at the odium of rendering the character of a freebooter an exhibition of a new dramatic piece.

object of popular ambition ; and, by furnishing his Gay had now many friends, as well among per personages with a plea for their dishonesty drawn sons of rank, as among his brother-poets ; but little from the universal depravity of mankind, he has was yet done to raise him to a state of independence. been accused of sapping the foundations of all A subscription to a collection of his poems pub- social morality. The author wrote a second part lished in 1720, cleared him a thousand pounds; and of this work, entitled “ Polly," but the Lord Cham.

berlain refused to suffer it to be performed; and time he employed such intervals of health and spirits though the party in opposition so far encouraged it as he enjoyed, in writing his “ Acis and Galatea,” by their subscriptions that it proved more profitable an opera called “ Achilles," and a “Serenata." to him than even the first part, it was a very feeble His death took place in 1732, at the early age of performance, and has sunk into total neglect. forty-four, in consequence of an inflammation of

Gay, in the latter part of his life, received the the bowels. He was sincerely lamented by his kind patronage of the Duke and Duchess of Queens- friends; and his memory was honored by a monuberry, who took him into their ouse, and conde- ment in Westminster Abbey, and an epitaph in & scended to manage his pecuniary concerns. At this strain of uncommon sensibility by Pope.

Here blooming Health exerts her gentle reign, RURAL SPORTS.

And strings the sinews of th' industrious swain.

Soon as the morning lark salutes the day,
A GEORGIC.

Through dewy fields I take my frequent way,

Where I behold the farmer's early care

In the revolving labors of the year.
INSCRIBED TO MR. POPE, 1731.*

When the fresh Spring in all her state is crown'd

And high luxuriant grass o'erspreads the ground,
--Securi prælia ruris

The laborer with a bending scythe is seen,
Pandimus.

Nemesian.

Shaving the surface of the waving green;
CANTO I.

Of all her native pride disrobes the land,

And meads lays waste before his sweeping hand; You, who the sweets of rural life have known, While with the mounting Sun the meadow glows, Despise th' ungrateful hurry of the town;

The fading herbage round he loosely throws : In Windsor groves your easy hours employ, But, if some sign portend a lasting shower, And, undisturb'd, yourself and Muse enjoy. Th' experienc'd swain foresees the coming hour, Thames listens to thy strains, and silent flows, His sun-burnt hands the scattering fork forsake, And no rude wind through rustling osiers blows, And ruddy damsels ply the saving rake; While all his wondering nymphs around thee In rising hills the fragrant harvest grows, throng,

And spreads along the field in equal rows. (gains To hear the Syrens warble in thy song.

Now when the height of Heaven bright Phobus But I, who ne'er was blest by Fortune's hand, And level rays cleave wide the thirsty plains, Nor brighten'd plowshares in paternal land, When heifers seek the shade and cooling lake, Long in the noisy town have been immur'd, And in the middle path-way basks the snake: Respir'd its smoke, and all its cares endur'd; O lead me, guard me, from the sultry hours, Where news and politics divide mankind, Hide me, ye forests, in your closest bowers, And schemes of state involve th' uneasy mind: Where the tall oak his spreading arms entwines, Faction embroils the world ; and every tongue And with the beach a mutual shade combines; Is mov'd by flattery, or with scandal hung: Where flows the murmuring brook, inviting dreams Friendship, for sylvan shades, the palace flies, Where bordering hazel overhangs the streams, Where all must yield to interest's dearer ties: Whose rolling current, winding round and round, Each rival Machiavel with envy burns,

With frequent falls makes all the woods resound; And honesty forsakes them all by turns;

Upon the mossy couch my limbs I cast,
While calumny upon each party 's thrown, And e'en at noon the sweets of evening taste.
Which both promote, and both alike disown. Here I peruse the Mantuan's Georgic strains,
Fatigu'd at last, a calm retreat I chose,

And learn the labors of Italian swains;
And sooth'd my harass'd mind with sweet repose, In every page I see new landscapes rise,
Where fields and shades, and the refreshing clime, And all Hesperia opens to my eyes ;
Inspire the sylvan song, and prompt my rhyme. I wander o'er the various rural toil,
My Muse shall rove through Mowery meads and And know the nature of each different soil:
plains,

This waving field is gilded o'er with corn,
And deck with rural sports her native strains ; That spreading trees with blushing fruit adorno
And the same road ambitiously pursue,

Here I survey the purple vintage grow, Frequented by the Mantuan swain and you. Climb round the poles, and rise in graceful row: "Tis not that rural sports alone invite,

Now I behold the steed curvet and bound, But all the grateful country breathes delight; And paw with restless hoof the smoking ground

The dewlap'd bull now chafes along the plain,

While burning love ferments in every vein; This poem received many material corrections from His well-arm'd front against his rival aims, the author, after it was first published.

And by the dint of war his mistress claims :

The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew;
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And steer his distant journey through the skies;
Some against hostile drones the hive defend,
Others with sweets the waxen cells distend,
Each in the toil his destin'd office bears,
And in the little bulk a mighty soul appears.

Or when the plowman leaves the task of day,
And trudging homeward, whistles on the way;
When the big-udder'd cows with patience stand,
Waiting the strokings of the damsel's hand;
No warbling cheers the woods; the feather'd choir,
To court kind slumbers, to the sprays retire;
When no rude gale disturbs the sleeping trees,
Nor aspen leaves confess the gentlest breeze;
Engag'd in thought, to Neptune's bounds I stray,
To take my farewell of the parting day;
Far in the deep the Sun his glory hides,
A streak of gold the sea and sky divides:
The purple clouds their amber linings show,
And, edg'd with flame, rolls every wave below:
Here pensive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the distant billow lose my sight.

Now Night in silent state begins to rise, And twinkling orbs bestrow th' uncloudy skies; Her borrow'd lustre growing Cynthia lends, And on the main a glittering path extends; Millions of worlds hang in the spacious air, Which round their suns their annual circles steer; Sweet contemplation elevates my sense, While I survey the works of Providence. O could the Muse in loftier strains rehearse The glorious Author of the universe, Who reins the winds, gives the vast ocean bounds, And circumscribes the floating worlds their rounds; My soul should overflow in songs of praise, And my Creator's name inspire my lays!

As in successive course the seasons roll, So circling pleasures recreate the soul. When genial Spring a living warmth bestows, And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws, No swelling inundation hides the grounds, But crystal currents glide within their bounds: The finny brood their wonted haunts forsake, Float in the sun, and skim along the lake; With frequent leap they range the shallow streams, Their silver coats reflect the dazzling beams. Now let the fisherman his toils prepare. And arm himself with every watery snare; His hooks, his lines, peruse with careful eye, Increase his tackle, and his rod re-tie.

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He greedily sucks in the twining bait,
And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat:
Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line!
How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!
Cast on the bank, he dies with gasping pains,
And trickling blood his silver mail distains.

You must not every worm promiscuous use, Judgment will tell the proper bait to choose: The worm that draws a long immoderate size, The trout abhors, and the rank morsel flies; And, if too small, the naked fraud's in sight, And fear forbids, while hunger does invite. Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains, Whose polish'd tails a shining yellow stains: Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting gloss, Cherish the sullied reptile race with moss; Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil, And from their bodies wipe their native soil.

But when the Sun displays his glorious beams,
And shallow rivers flow with silver streams,
Then the deceit the scaly breed survey,
Bask in the sun, and look into the day:
You now a more delusive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.
To frame the little animal, provide

All the gay hues that wait on female pride;
Let Nature guide thee! sometimes golden wire
The shining bellies of the fly require;
The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail,
Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail.
Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings,
And lends the growing insect proper wings;
Silks of all colors must their aid impart,
And every fur promote the fisher's art.
So the gay lady, with excessive care,
Borrows the pride of land, of sea, and air; [plays
Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glittering thing dis-
Dazzles our eyes, and easy hearts betrays.

Mark well the various seasons of the year,
How the succeeding insect race appear:
In this revolving Moon one color reigns,
Which in the next the fickle trout disdains.
Oft have I seen the skilful angler try
The various colors of the treacherous fly;
When he with fruitless pain hath skimm'd the brook,
And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook,
He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,
Which o'er the stream a waving forest throw;
When, if an insect fall, (his certain guide,)
He gently takes him from the whirling tide;
Examines well his form with curious eyes,
His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, and size,
Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds,
And on the back a speckled feather binds;
So just the colors shine through every part,
That Nature seems again to live in Art.
Let not thy wary step advance too near,
While all thy hopes hang on a single hair;
The new-form'd insect on the water moves,
The speckled trout the curious snare approves ;
Upon the curling surface let it glide,
With natural motion from thy hand supplied;
Against the stream now gently let it play,
Now in the rapid eddy roll away.

The scaly shoals float by, and, seiz'd with fear,
Behold their fellows tost in thinner air:

But soon they leap, and catch the swimming bait,
Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate.

When a brisk gale against the current blows, And all the watery plain in wrinkles flows,

Then let the fisherman his art repeat,

Yet, if for sylvan sports thy bosom glow, Where bubbling eddies favor the deceit.

Let thy fleet greyhound urge his flying foe. If an enormous salmon chance to spy

With what delight the rapid course I view! The wanton errors of the floating fly,

How does my eye the circling race pursue ! He lifts his silver gills above the flood,

He snaps deceitful air with empty jaws; And greedily sucks in th' unfaithful food; The subtle hare darts swift beneath his paws; Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey, She Aies, he stretches, now with nimble bound And bears with joy the little spoil away:

Eager he presses on, but overshoots his ground; Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake, She turns, he winds, and soon regains the way, Lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake; Then tears with gory mouth the screaming prey. With sudden rage he now aloft appears,

What various sport does rural life afford ! And in his eye convulsive anguish bears;

What un bought dainties heap the wholesome board! And now again, impatient of the wound,

Nor less the spaniel, skilful to betray, He rolls and wreathes his shining body round; Rewards the fowler with the feather'd prey. Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide, Soon as the laboring horse, with swelling veins, The trembling fins the boiling wave divide. Hath safely hous'd the farmer's doubtful gains, Now hope exalts the fisher's beating heart, To sweet repast th' unwary partridge flies, Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art; With joy amid the scatter'd harvest lies; He views the tumbling fish with longing eyes, Wandering in plenty, danger he forgets, While the line stretches with th' unwieldy prize ; Nor dreads the slavery of entangling nets. Each motion humors with his steady hands, The subtle dog scours with sagacious nose And one slight hair the mighty bulk commands ; Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows; Till, tir'd at last, despoil'd of all his strength, Against the wind he takes his prudent way, The game athwart the stream unfolds his length. While the strong gale directs him to the prey ; He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize Now the warm scent assures the covey near, Gnash his sharp teeth, and roll his blood-shot eyes; He treads with caution, and he points with fear; Then draws him to the shore, with artful care, Then (lest some sentry-fowl the fraud descry, And lifts his nostrils in the sickening air :

And bid his fellows from the danger fly) Upon the burthen'd stream he floating lies, Close to the ground in expectation lies, Stretches his quivering fins, and gasping dies. Till in the snare the fluttering covey rise.

Would you preserve a numerous finny race; Soon as the blushing light begins to spread, Let your fierce dogs the ravenous otter chase And glancing Phobus gilds the mountain's head, (Th' amphibious monster ranges all the shores, His early flight th' ill-fated partridge lakes, Darts through the waves, and every haunt explores): And quits the friendly shelter of the brakes; Or let the gin his roving steps betray,

Or, when the Sun casts a declining ray, And save from hostile jaws the scaly prey.

And drives his chariot down the western way, I never wander where the bordering reeds Let your obsequious ranger search around, O'erlook the muddy stream, whose tangling weeds Where yellow stubble withers on the ground; Perplex the fisher; I nor choose to bear

Nor will the roving spy direct in vain, The thievish nightly net, nor barbed spear; But numerous coveys gratify thy pain. Nor drain I ponds, the golden carp to take,

When the meridian Sun contracts the shade. Nor troll for pikes, dispeoplers of the lake; And frisking heifers seek the cooling glade ; Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, Or when the country floats with sudden rains, No blood of living insects stain my line.

Or driving mists deface the moisten'd plains; Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook

In vain his toils th' unskilful fowler tries, With pliant rod ath wart the pebbled brook, While in thick woods the feeding partridge lies. Silent along the mazy margin stray,

Nor must the sporting verse the gun forbear, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey. But what's the fowler's be the Muse's care.

See how the well-taught pointer leads the way ; Canto II.

The scent grows warm; he stops: he springs the

prey ; Now, sporting Muse, draw in the flowing reins, The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise, Leave the clear streams awhile for sunny plains. And on swift wing divide the sounding skies; Should you the various arms and toils rehearse, The scattering lead pursues the certain sight, And all the fisherman adorn thy verse ;

And death in thunder overtakes their flight. Should you the wide encircling net display, Cool breathes the morning air, and Winter's hand And in its spacious arch enclose the sea ;

Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land ; Then haul the plunging load upon the land, Now to the copse thy lesser spaniel take, And with the sole and turbot hide the sand ; Teach him to range the diich, and forc the brake, It would extend the growing theme too long, Not closest coverts can protect the game: And tire the reader with the watery song.

Hark! the dog opens ; take thy certain aim. Let the keen hunter from the chase refrain, The woodcock futters ; how he wavering flies! Nor render all the plowman's labor vain, The wood resounds: he wheels, he drops, he dies. When Ceres pours out plenty from her horn, The towering hawk let future poets sing, And clothes the fields with golden ears of corn. Who terror benrs upon his soaring wing : Now, now, ye reapers, to your task repair, Let them on high the frighted hern survey, Haste! save the product of the bounteous year: And lofty numbers point their airy fray. To the wide-gathering hook long furrows yield, Nor shall the mounting lark the Muse detain, And rising sheaves extend through all the field. That greets the morning with his early strain ;

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