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And groves, unvisited by bard or sage.
| Parent of Happiness, celestial-born ; Amid the towery ruins, huge, supreme,
When the first man became a living soul, Th' enormous amphitheatre behold,
His sacred genius thou ; - be Britain's care; Mountainous pile! o'er whose capacious womb With her, secure, prolong thy lov'd retreat ; Pours the broad firmament its varied light;
Thence bless mankind; while yet among her sons, While from the central floor the seats ascend E'en yet there are, to shield thine equal laws, Round above round, slow-widening to the verge Whose bosoms kindle at the sacred names A circuit vast and high ; nor less had held
Of Cecil, Raleigh, Walsingham, and Drake Imperial Rome, and her attendant realms,
May others more delight in tuneful airs ; When drunk with rule she willid the fierce delight, In masque and dance excel; to sculptur'd stone And op'd the gloomy caverns, whence out-rush'd Give with superior skill the living look ; Before th' innumerable shouting crowd
More pompous piles erect, or pencil soft The fiery, madded, tyrants of the wilds,
With warmer touch the visionary board :
But thou, thy nobler Britons teach to rule ;
To quell the proud ; to spread the joys of peace, To kindle brutal daring apt for war;
And various blessings of ingenious trade. To lock the breast, and steel th' obdurate heart Be these our arts; and ever may we guard, Amid the piercing cries of sore distress
Ever defend thee with undaunted heart ! Impenetrable. — But away thine eye ;
Inestimable good! who giv'st us Truth, Behold yon steepy cliff; the modern pile
Whose hand upleads to light, divinest Truth, Perchance may now delight, while that *, rever'd Array'd in every charm: whose hand benign In ancient days, the page alone declares,
Teaches unwearied Toil to clothe the fields, Or narrow coin through dim cerulean rust. And on his various fruits inscribes the name The fane was Jove's, its spacious golden roof, Of Property : O nobly hail'd of old O'er thick-surrounding temples beaming wide, By thy majestic daughters, Judah fair, Appear'd, as when above the morning hills | And Tyrus and Sidonia, lovely nymphs, Half the round Sun ascends; and tower'd aloft, | And Libya bright, and all-enchanting Greece, Sustain'd by columns huge, innumerous
Whose numerous towns and isles, and peopled seas, As cedars proud on Canaan's verdant heights Rejoic'd around her lyre; th' heroic note Darkening their idols, when Astarte lur'd
(Smit with sublime delight) Ausonia caught, Too-prosperous Israel from his living strength. And plann'd imperial Rome. Thy hand benign And next regard yon venerable dome,
Rear'd up her towery battlements in strength; Which virtuous Latium, with erroneous aim, Bent her wide bridges o'er the swelling stream Rais'd to her various deities, and nam'd
Of Tuscan Tiber ; thine those solemn domes Pantheon ; plain and round; of this our world Devoted to the voice of humbler prayer! Majestic emblem ; with peculiar grace
And thine those piles | undeck'd, capacious, vast, Before its ample orb, projected stands
In days of dearth where tender Charity The many-pillar'd portal : noblest work
Dispens'd her timely succours to the poor. Of human skill : here, curious architect,
Thine too those musically falling founts, If thou essay'st, ambitious, to surpass
To slake the clammy lip; adown they fall, Palladius, Angelus, or British Jones,
Musical ever ; while from yon blue hills,
Dim in the clouds, the radiant aqueducts
The spacious desert, brightening in the Sun, Extends, and where the lovely forms commence Proud and more proud in their august approach : Of flowing sculpture : nor neglect to note
High o'er irriguous vales and woods and towns, How range the taper columns, and what weight Glide the soft whispering waters in the wind, Their leafy brows sustain : fair Corinth first And here united pour their silver streams Boasted their order, which Callimachus
Among the figur'd rocks, in murmuring falls, (Reclining studious on Asopus' banks
Musical ever. These thy beauteous works: Beneath an urn of some lamented nymph)
And what beside felicity could tell Haply compos'd ; the urn with foliage curld Of human benefit: more late the rest ; Thinly conceal'd, the chapiter inform’d.
At various times their turrets chanc'd to rise, See the tall obelisks from Memphis old,
When impious Tyranny vouchsaf'd to smile. One stone enormous each, or Thebes convey'd ; Behold by Tiber's flood, where modern Rome Like Albion's spires they rush into the skies. Couches beneath the ruins : there of old And there the temple t, where the summon'd state | With arms and trophies gleam'd the field of Mars: In deep of night conven'd: e'en yet methinks There to their daily sports the noble youth The vehement orator in rent attire
Rush'd emulous; to fling the pointed lance; Persuasion pours, Ambition sinks her crest; To vault the steed; or with the kindling wheel And lo the villain, like a troubled sea,
In dusty whirlwinds sweep the trembling goal ; That tosses up her mire! Ever disguis'd,
Or, wrestling, cope with adverse swelling breasts, Shall Treason walk? Shall proud Oppression yoke Strong grappling arms, close heads, and distant feet; The neck of Virtue? Lo the wretch, abash'd, Or clash the lifted gauntlets : there they form'd Self-betray'd Catiline! O Liberty,
Their ardent virtues : in the bossy piles,
* The Capitol.
The public granaries. + The Temple of Concord, where the senate met S Modern Rome stands chiefly on the old Camion Catiline's conspiracy.
| pus Martius.
The proud triumphal arches; all their wars, Where Cæsars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie,
When tribulation clothes the child of man,
How musical! when all-devouring Time, Three nodding aisles remain ; the rest a heap Here sitting on his throne of ruins hoar, Of sand and weeds; her shrines, her radiant roofs, While winds and tempests sweep his various lyre, And columns proud, that from her spacious floor, | How sweet thy diapason, Melancholy ! As from a shining sea, majestic rose
Cool evening comes ; the setting Sun displays A hundred foot aloft, like stately beech
His visible great round between yon towers, Around the brim of Dion's glassy lake,
As through two shady cliffs; away, my Muse, Charming the mimic painter : on the walls Though yet the prospect pleases, ever new Hung Salem's sacred spoils ; the golden board, In vast variety, and yet delight And golden trumpets, now conceal’d, entomb'd The many-figur'd sculptures of the path By the sunk roof. - O'er which in distant view Half beauteous, half effac'd ; the traveller Th' Etruscan mountains swell, with ruins crown'd Such antique marbles to his native land Of ancient towns; and blue Soracte spires,
Oft hence conveys; and every realm and state Wrapping his sides in tempests. Eastward hence, With Rome's august remains, heroes and gods, Nigh where the Cestian pyramid + divides
Deck their long galleries and winding groves; The mouldering wall, beyond yon fabric huge, Yet miss we not th' innumerable thefts, Whose dust the solemn antiquarian turns,
Yet still profuse of graces teems the waste. And thence, in broken sculptures cast abroad,
Suffice it now th' Esquilian mount to reach Like Sibyl's leaves, collects the builder's name With weary wing, and seek the sacred rests Rejoic'd, and the green medals frequent found Of Maro's humble tenement; a low Doom Caracalla to perpetual fame :
Plain wall remains; a little sun-gilt heap, The stately pines, that spread their branches wide Grotesque and wild ; the gourd and olive brown In the dun ruins of its ample halls t,
Weave the light roof : the gourd and olive fan Appear but tufts; as may whate'er is high
Their amorous foliage, mingling with the vine, Sink in comparison, minute and vile.
Who drops her purple clusters through the green. These, and unnumber'd, yet their brows uplift, Here let me lie, with pleasing fancy sooth'd : Rent of their graces; as Britannia's oaks
| Here flow'd his fountain; here his laurels grew; On Merlin's mount, or Snowdon's rugged sides, Here oft the meek good man, the lofty bard Stand in the clouds, their branches scatter'd round, Fram'd the celestial song, or social walk'd After the tempest; Mausoleums, Cirques,
With Horace and the ruler of the world : Naumachios, Forums; Trajan's column tall, Happy Augustus ! who, so well inspir'd, From whose low base the sculptures wind aloft, Couldst throw thy pomps and royalties aside, And lead through various toils, up the rough steep, Attentive to the wise, the great of soul, Its hero to the skies: and his dark tower S
And dignify thy mind. Thrice glorious days, Whose execrable hand the city fir'd,
Auspicious to the Muses ! then rever'd, And while the dreadful conflagration blaz'd, Then hallow'd was the fount, or secret shade, Play'd to the flames; and Phæbus' letter'd dome ; Or open mountain, or whatever scene And the rough reliques of Carinæ's street,
The poet chose, to tune th' ennobling rhyme Where now the shepherd to nis nibbling sheep Melodious; e'en the rugged sons of war, Sits piping with his oaten reed; as erst
E'en the rude hinds rever'd the poet's name: There pip'd the shepherd to his nibbling sheep, But now — another age, alas! is ours When th' humble roof Anchises' son explor'd ,
Yet will the Muse a little longer soar, Of good Evander, wealth-despising king,
Unless the clouds of care weigh down her wing, Amid the thickets : so revolves the scene;
Since Nature's stores are shut with cruel hand, So Time ordains, who rolls the things of pride And each aggrieves his brother; since in vain From dust again to dust. Behold that heap The thirsty pilgrim at the fountain asks (dain. Of mouldering urns (their ashes blown away, Th' o'erflowing wave - Enough - the plaint disDust of the mighty) the same story tell ;
See'st thou yon fane? • e'en now incessant time And at its base, from whence the serpent glides Sweeps her low mouldering marbles to the dust ; Down the green desert street, yon hoary monk And Phæbus' temple, nodding with its woods, Laments the same, the vision as he views,
Threatens huge ruin o'er the small rotund. The solitary, silent, solemn scene,
’T was there beneath a fig-tree's umbrage broad,
Th' astonish'd swains with reverend awe beheld * Begun by Vespasian, and finished by Titus. Thee, O Quirinus, and thy brother-twin,
+ The tomb of Cestius, partly within and partly Pressing the teat within a monster's grasp without the walls. The baths of Caracalla, a vast ruin.
* The temple of Romulus and Remus under Nero's. The Palatin library. Mount Palatin.
Sportive; while oft the gaunt and rugged wolf Withers each nerve, and opens every pore Turn'd her stretch'd neck and form'd your tender To painful feeling : flowery bowers they seek limbs ;
(As ether prompts, as the sick sense approves) So taught of Jove e'en the fell savage fed
Or cool Nymphean grots; or tepid baths Your sacred infancies, your virtues, toils,
(Taught by the soft Ionians); they, along The conquests, glories, of th' Ausonian state, The lawny vale, of every beauteous stone, Wrapp'd in their secret seeds. Eacb kindred soul, Pile in the roseat air with fond expense : Robust and stout, ye grapple to your hearts,
Through silver channels glide the vagrant waves, And little Rome appears. Her cots arise,
And fall on silver beds crystalline down, Green twigs of osier weave the slender walls, Melodious murmuring ; while Luxury Green rushes spread the roofs; and here and there Over their naked limbs with wanton hand Opens beneath the rock the gloomy cave.
Sheds roses, odours, sheds unheeded bane. Elate with joy Etruscan Tiber views
Swift is the flight of wealth ; unnumber'd wants, Her spreading scenes enamelling his waves, Brood of voluptuousness, cry out aloud Her luts and hollow dells, and Hocks and herds, Necessity, and seek the splendid bribe. And gathering swains; and rolls his yellow car The citron board, the bowl emboss'd with gems, To Neptune's court with more majestic train. And tender foliage wildly wreath'd around
Her speedy growth alarm'd the states around, Of seeming ivy, by that artful hand, Jealous; yet soon, by wondrous virtue won, | Corinthian Thericles; whate'er is known They sink into her bosom. From the plough Of rarest acquisition ; Tyrian garbs, Rose her dictators ; fought, o'ercame, returu'd, Neptunian Albion's high testaceous food, Yes, to the plough return'd, and hail'd their peers; And flavour'd Chian wines with incense fum'd For then no private pomp, no household state, To slake patrician thirst; for these, their rights The public only swellid the generous breast. In the vile streets they prostitute to sale, Who has not heard the Fabian heroes sung ? Their ancient rights, their dignities, their laws, Dentatus' scars, or Mutius' flaming hand ?
Their native glorious freedom. Is there none, How Manlius sav'd the Capitol ? the choice
Is there no villain, that will bind the neck Of steady Regulus? As yet they stood,
Stretch'd to the yoke? they come; the market throngs Simple of life; as yet seducing wealth
But who has most by fraud or force amass'd ? Was unexplor'd, and shame of poverty
Who most can charm corruption with his doles? Yet unimagin'd. — Shine not all the fields
He be the monarch of the state ; and lo! With various fruitage? murmur not the brooks | Didius", vile usurer, through the crowd he mounts, Along the flowery valleys ? They, content, Beneath his feet the Roman eagle cowers, Feasted at Nature's hand, indelicate,
And the red arrows fill his grasp uncouth. Blithe, in their easy taste ; and only sought O Britons, O my countrymen, beware; To know their duties; that their only strife, Gird, gird your hearts; the Romans once were free, Their generous strife, and greatly to perform. Were brave, were virtuous. — Tyranny, howe'er, They through all shapes of peril and of pain, Deign'd to walk forth awhile in pageant state, Intent on honour, dar'd in thickest death
And with licentious pleasures fed the rout, To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebia quell’d, The thoughtless many: to the wanton sound Nor Thrasymene, nor Cannæ's bloody field, Of fifes and drums they danc'd, or in the shade Their dauntless courage ; storming Hannibal Sung Cæsar, great and terrible in war, In vain the thunder of the battle rollid,
Immortal Cæsar! Lo, a god, a god, The thunder of the battle they return'd
He cleaves the yielding skies ! Cæsar meanwlule Back on his Punic shores ; till Carthage fell, Gathers the ocean pebbles; or the gnat And danger fled afar. The city gleam'd
Enrag'd pursues; or at his lonely meal With precious spoils : alas, prosperity!
Starves a wide province; tastes, dislikes, and flings Ah, baneful state! yet ebb’d not all their strength To dogs and sycophants. A god, a god! In soft luxurious pleasures ; proud desire
The flowery shades and shrines obscene return. Of boundless sway, and feverish thirst of gold, But see along the north the tempests swell Rous’d them again to battle. Beauteous Greece, O'er the rough Alps, and darken all their snows! Torn from her joys, in vain with languid arm Sudden the Goth and Vandal, dreaded names, Half rais’d her rusty shield; nor could avail Rush as the breach of waters, whelming all The sword of Dacia, nor the Parthian dart; | Their domes, their villas ; down the festive piles, Nor yet the car of that fam'd British chief,
Down fall their Parian porches, gilded baths, Which seven brave years, beneath the doubtful wing And roll before the storm in clouds of dust. Of Victory, dreadful roll'd its griding wheels
Vain end of human strength, of human skill, Over the bloody war: the Roman arms
Conquest, and triumph, and domain, and pomp, Triumph’d, till Fame was silent to their foes. And ease, and luxury! O Luxury,
And now the world unrivall'd they enjoy'd Bane of elated life, of affluent states, In proud security: the crested helm,
What dreary change, what ruin is not thine ? The plated greave and corslet hung unbrac'd ; How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind! Nor clank'd their arms, the spear and sounding shield, To the soft entrance of thy rosy cave But on the glittering troplıy to the wind.
How dost thou lure the fortunate and great! Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie, Dreadful attraction while behind thee gapes Till every sun annoys, and every wind
Th' unfathomable gulph where Asher lies Has chilling force, and every rain offends :
O'erwhelm’d, forgotten ; and high-boasting Cham; For now the frame no more is girt with strength And Elan's haughty pomp; and beauteous Greece; Masculine, nor in lustiness of heart
And the great queen of Earth, imperial Rome. Laughs at'the winter storm, and summer-beam, Superior to their rage : enfeebling vice
• Didius Julianus, who bought the empire.
William SHENSTONE, a popular and agreeable the life which he invariably pursued, and which poet, was born at Hales-Owen, Shropshire, in 1714. consisted in improving the picturesque beauties of His father was an uneducated gentleman farmer, the Leasowes, exercising his pen in casual effusions who cultivated an estate of his own, called the Lea- of verse and prose, and cultivating such society as sowes. William, after passing through other in- lay within his reach. The fame of the Leasowes struction, was removed to that of a clergyman at was widely spread by an elaborate description of Solihull, from whom he acquired a fund of classical Dodsley's, which drew multitudes of visitors to the literature, together with a taste for the best English place; and the house being originally only a farm, writers. In 1732 he was entered of Pembroke became inadequate to his grounds, and required enCollege, Oxford, where he formed one of a set of largement. Hence he lay continually under the young men who met in the evenings at one another's pressure of narrow circumstances, which preyed chambers, and read English works in polite litera- upon his spirits, and rendered him by no means a ture. He also began to exercise his poetical talent happy inhabitant of the little Eden he had created. upon some light topics; but coming to the posses Gray, from the perusal of his letters, deduces the sion of his paternal property, with some augment following, perhaps too satirical, account. « Poor ation, he indulged himself in rural retirement, and man! he was always wishing for money, for fame, forgetting his calls to college residence, he took up and other distinctions; and his whole philosophy his abode at a house of his own, and commenced consisted in living against his will in retirement, gentleman. In 1737 he printed anonymously a and in a place which his taste had adorned, but small volume of juvenile poems, which was little which he only enjoyed when people of note came to noticed. His first visit to London, in 1740, intro see and commend it." duced him to the acquaintance of Dodsley, who Shenstone died of a fever in February, 1763, in printed his “ Judgment of Hercules,” dedicated to his fiftieth year, and was interred in the churchhis Hagley neighbour, Mr.(afterwards Lord) Little- yard of Hales-Owen. Monuments to his memory ton. It was followed by a work written before it, were erected by several persons who loved the man, “ The School-mistress," a piece in Spenser's style and esteemed his poetry. Of the latter, the general and stanza, the heroine of which was a village opinion is now nearly uniform. It is regarded as darne, supposed to have given him his first instruc- commonly correct, elegant, melodious, and tender tion. The vein of benevolence and good sense, and in sentiment, and often pleasing and natural in dethe touches of the pathetic, by which this perform- scription, but verging to the languid and feeble. ance is characterised, render it extrembly pleasing, His prose writings, published in a separate volume, and perhaps place it at the head of his compositions. display good sense and cultivated taste, and some
After amusing himself with a few rambles to times contain new and acute observations on man. places of public resort, Shenstone now sat down to kind.
Lend me thy clarion, goddess ! let me try
Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,
IN IMITATION OF SPENSER.
Auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens,
proper for the author's imitation on this occasion,
In every village mark'd with little spire,
And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,
Aume! full sorely is my heart forlorn,
And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree,
And work the simple vassal's mickle woe;
One ancient hen she took delight to feed, For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, The plodding pattern of the busy dame; But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat Which, ever and anon, impell’d by need, low;
Into her school, begirt with chickens, came! And as they look'd they found their horrour grew, Such favour did her past deportment claim : And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view. And, if Neglect had lavish'd on the ground
Fragment of bread, she would collect the same; So have I seen (who has not, may conceive) For well she knew, and quaintly could expound, A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd; What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave,
found. Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast; They start, they stare, they wheel, they look Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak aghast;
That in her garden sipp'd the silvery dew; Sad servitude! such comfortless annoy
Where no vain flower disclos'd a gaudy streak; May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste!
But herbs for use, and physic, not a few, Ne superstition clog his dance of joy,
Of grey renown, within those borders grew: No vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy. The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme,
Fresh baum, and marygold of cheerful hue; Near to this dome is found a patch so green, The lowly gill, that never dares to climb; On which the tribe their gambols do display; And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to And at the door imprisoning-board is seen,
rhyme. Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray ; Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day!
Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung, The noises intermixed, which thence resound, That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around; Do Learning's little tenement betray;
And pungent radish, biting infants' tongue; Where sits the dame, disguis'd in look profound, And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound; And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel And marjoram sweet, in shepherd's posie found; around.
And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom
Shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound, Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,
To lurk amidst the labours of her loom, Emblem right meet of decency does yield: And crown her kerchiefs clean, with mickle rare perHer apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe,
fume, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field : And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd, The daintiest garden of the proudest peer; With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill’d; Ere, driven from its envied site, it found
And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd, A sacred shelter for its branches here; And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind. Where edg'd with gold its glittering skirts appear,
Oh wassel days! O customs meet and well! Few but have ken’d, in semblance meet pour Ere this was banish'd from its lofty sphere: tray'd,
Simplicity then sought this humble cell, (dwell The childish faces of old Eol's train;
Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling Libs, Notus, Auster : these in frowns array'd, How then would fare or Earth, or Sky, or Main, Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve, Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein? Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete, And were not she rebellious breasts to quell,
If winter 't were, she to her hearth did cleare, And were not she her statutes to maintain,
But in her garden found a summer-seat: The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dweli. How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king,
While taunting foe-men did a song entreat, A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown; All, for the nonce, untuning every string, A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air ;
Uphung their useless lyres - small heart had they 'T was simple russet, but it was her own;
to sing. 'T was her own country bred the fock so fair! 'T was her own labour did the fleece prepare ; For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore, And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'd around, And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed; Through pious awe, did term it passing rare; And in those elfins' ears, would oft deplore For they in gaping wonderment abound,
The times, when Truth by Popish rage did bleed; And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on And tortious death was true Devotion's meed; ground.
And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn,
That nould on wooden image place ber creed; Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth,
And lawny saints in smouldering frames did burn: Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;
Ah! dearest Lord, forefend, thilk days should e'er Goody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth, Or dame, the sole additions she did hear; Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear: In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem Ne would esteem him act as mought behove, By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defac'd, Who should not honour'd eld with these revere: In which, when he receives his diadem, For never title yet so mean could prove,
Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is placid, But there was eke a mind which did that title love. The matron sate; and some with rank she grac do