ODE

To Edward Rushton, of Liverpool, on his Restoration to Sight, after a Blindness of upwards of thirty Years, by a series of Operations performed by Mr. Gibson, of Manchester.

AND does again the orient day
Pour for my friend the visual ray,
And gild the vernal scene?
Does Nature, in her Iris vest,
Again delight his bounding breast
And wave her robe of green?

Does she, in linear pomp arrayed,
And varied charm of light and shade,
Her pictur'd world renew?

And joys of long-extinguish'd sense,
As from the bursting grave, dispense→→→
Rekindling to his view?

How beats my heart, in transport high,
How swells the moisture of the eye
The joyful tale to hear!

While eager flies the cordial lay,
To meet thee on the verge of day,
With gratulating tear.

Óh as the visions round thee roll, That cheer'd thy once accustom'd soul In daily pomp arrayed,

Say if not now,

with keener zest, They glad thy long benighted breast? Remerging from the shade!

But chief, what joys thy bosom own,
New born to raptures never known,
While flock thy offspring round!
Oft heard-oft felt-but never seen,
Till now, with beauty's kindling mien,
They in thy presence bound!

How will the strong poetic fire,
That, darkling, o'er the wondering lyre
Could guide thy master hand,
Now kindling in a blaze of light,
To bolder raptures urge thy flight,
And with thy joys expand!

Oh friend!-that I the tear might see,
That streams, in silent ecstacy,
O'er every forin beloved!

Might hear the murmurs of that tongue,
When first it pours the grateful song,
By cordial rapture mov'd!

But, tho' forbade the tear to see,
That flows in cordial ecstacy,
Or hear the murmur'd song;
Yet Sympathy's omniscient art
every feeling bears a part

In

That warms the circling throng.

The father's joy, the poet's fire,
That soon shall wake thy trembling lyre,
Find in my conscious breast,

A string in unison compleat,

A throb, that to thy throb shall beat;-
Blissful, that thou art blest!

J. THELWALL.

LINES,

By a Fellow of a College, whose Studies were interrupted by the Sight of Ladies walking in the Garden under his Window.

To books, or serious studies, here,
How vainly I apply,

While beauteous forms so oft appear,

To attract my wandering eye!

Nature and art's united powers

Have excellence attained,

And made this Garden's verdant bowers
A paradise regained.

Too near, (I find it to my cost!)

Does the resemblance suit;
This, like the Eden Adam lost,

Contains forbidden fruit!

WADHAM COLLEGE, OXON.

T. D.

THE DEVOTED LEGIONS*, Addressed to Lord George Germaine, and the Commanders of the Forces against America.

"Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus undas

Imprecor, arma armis: pugnent ipsiq; nepotes."

VIRGIL.

BY THE LATE T. DAY, ESQ.
Author of the Dying Negro, &c. &c.

ARGUMENT.

When the ROMAN REPUBLIC, from the smallest beginnings, had extended its empire over the greater part of the globe, it abandoned those principles of conduct which had been the cause of its increase and greatness. Instead of those domestic virtues, which had formed the character of its citizens, to excel in every species of public exertion, an enervating indolence and sensuality were gradually introduced. The conquest of Asia deluged Italy, both with the riches and vices of the East, and Lucullus entered the City, less the conqueror of Mithridates, than the destroyer of the virtues of his country. From that fatal period, all reverence to the ancient discipline or institutions, seems to have been totally lost; all ranks of men rushed headlong into the most profligate luxury the only contest between Patricians and Plebeians was, who should be most corrupt; and the public liberty, as might be expected, was abandoned to every invader. Rome, no longer peopled by patriots and heroes, became the miserable nurse of tyrants and slaves; a theatre where Ambition called her votaries to mutual slaughter; and a dreadful spectacle to the astonished world, of the miseries which attend successful oppression, and

greatness not founded upon virtue. Sylla, after having inured his soldiers to the murder of his allies, in the social war, by a natural progression of guilt, armed them against the laws and liberties of their country. The Roman soldier, from that instant, became a desperate assassin, who wore a sword for the perpetration of every crime. The sacred flame of public freedon, or private affection, was extinguished in his unrelenting breast; and he said to his general,

"Pectore si fratris, gladium jugulove parentis,

Condere me jubeas, gravidæve in viscera partû
Conjugis, invitâ peragam tamen omnia dextrâ !”

In this state of affairs the celebrated Triumvirate arose. Three individuals, Cæsar, Pompey, and Crassus, after having triumphed over the last efforts which the defenders of their country's rights were able to make, shared the Roman empire, like an hereditary patrimony, among them. To Crassus were allotted the Eastern Provinces, in which his avarice had long meditated an unprovoked war, to gratify itself with the spoils and riches of those favoured countries. He was therefore no sooner invested with these new powers, than he made preparations for an expedition against the Parthians. This people was at that time in alliance with his own nation, and therefore the injustice of attacking them was too flagrant not to excite horror and detestation even in the minds of the corrupted and degenerated Romans themselves: particularly ATTEIUS, one of the tribunes of the people, after having ineffectually opposed this impious war, arrayed himself in the solemn vestments which were used in the dreadful ceremonies of devoting any one to the infernal Gods, and placed himself at the gate, through which Crassus was to lead his troops to the Parthian expedition. In this habit he met that general, and scattering incense over a fire which burnt before him, muttered the most horrid execrations, and devoted Crassus and his legions to destruction. The Romans believed that these execrations were never ineffectual; but their effects were thought so fatal even to the person who pronounced them, that they were very rarely practised. History informs us, that in this instance the popular superstition was not deceived; for Crassus suffered the most shameful defeat; and after having seen the destruction of almost his whole army, was himself ingloriously slain. This action of Atteius, is the subject of the following Poem.