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No torrents stain thy limpid source ;
The curlieu scrvam'd, the Tritons blew
Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite; With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread ;
Old Time exulted as he flew; While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood
And Independence saw the light. In myriads cleave thy crystal flood;
The light he saw in Albion's happy plains, The springing trout in speckled pride;
Where under cover of a flowering thorn, The salmon, monarch of the tide;
While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains, The ruthless pike, intent on war; The silver eel, and mottled
The auspicious fruit of stol’n embrace was born par.
The mountain Dryads seiz'd with joy, Devolving from thy parent lake,
The smiling infant to their charge consign'd; A charming maze thy waters make,
The Doric Muse caress'd the favourite boy; By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
The hermit Wisdom stor’d his opening mind. Still on thy banks so gaily green,
As rolling years matur'd his age,
He flourish'd bold and sinewy as his sire; May num'rous herds and flocks be seen,
While the mild passions in his breast assuage And lasses chanting o'er the pail, And shepherds piping in the dale,
The fiercer flames of his maternal sire.
And zealous roved from pole to pole,
Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave,
Fair Freedom's temple, where he mark'd her grave.
He steel'd the blunt Batavian's arms
To burst the Iberian's double chain;
And cities rear'd, and planted farms, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye,
Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide domain. Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
He, with the generous rustics, sate Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
On Uri's rocks in close divant; Deep in the frozen regions of the north,
And wing'd that arrow sure as fate,
Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man
Arabia's scorching sands he cross'd,
Where blasted nature pants supine, With frantic Superstition for his guide,
Conductor of her tribes adust,
To Freedom's adamantine shrine;
And many a Tartar hord forlorn, aghast !
He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing; In Heaven's name urg'd th' infernal blow;
And taught amidst the dreary waste And red the stream began to flow :
The all-cheering hymns of Liberty to sing.
He virtue finds, like precious ore,
And turns the dross of Corsica to gold.
He, guardian genius, taught my youth
Pomp's tinsel livery to despise :
My lips by him chastis'd to truth,
Ne'er pay'd that homage which the heart denies.
ANTISTROPHE. Impell’d by Destiny, his name Disdain.
Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread, Of amplo front the portly chief appear'd:
Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity combind, The hunted bear supply'd a shaggy vest ;
To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread; The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard ; And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind. And his broad shoulders bray'd the furious blast. Where Insolence his wrinkl'd front uprears, He stopt : he gaz'd; his bosom glow'd,
And all the flowers of spurious fancy blow;
Full often wreath'd around the miscreant's bros : And straight compress'd her in his vig'rous arms.
† Alluding to the known story of William Tell * The par is a small fish, not unlike the smelt, and his associates, the fathers and founders of the which it rivals in delicacy and flavour.
confederacy of the Swiss Cantons.
Where ever-dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts
By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell,
And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell. In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
There Study shall with Solitude recline; With either India's glittering spoils opprest : And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-swains; So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride, And Toil and Temperance sedately twine That bears the treasure which he cannot taste. The slender chor that fluttering life sustains : For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,
And fearless Poverty shall guard the door ;
Shall chase far off the goblins of the night;
GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON.
George Lore Lyttelton, born at Hayley, in In 1741, he married Lucy, the daughter of Hugh Jan. 1708-9, was the eldest son of Sir Thomas Fortescue, Esq. a lady for whom he entertained the Lyttelton, Bart. of the same place. He received | purest affection, and with whom he lived in unabated his early education at Eton, whence he was sent to conjugal harmony. Her death in child-bed, in 1747, Christ-church College, in Oxford. In both of these was lamented by him in a “ Monody,” which stands places he was distinguished for classical literature, I prominent among his poetical works, and displays and some of his poems which we have borrowed were much natural feeling, amidst the more elaborate the fruits of his juvenile studies. In his nineteenth strains of a poet's imagination.
So much may year, he set out on a tour to the Continent; and suffice respecting his productions of this class, which some of the letters which he wrote during this ab- | are distinguished by the correctness of their versifsence to his father are pleasing proofs of his sound cation, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy principles, and his unreserved confidence in a vener- of their sentiments. His miscellaneous pieces, and ated parent. He also wrote a poetical epistle to his history of Henry II., the last, the work of his Dr. Ayscough, his Oxford tutor, which is one of age, have each their appropriate merits, but may the best of his works. On his return from abroad here be omitted. he was chosen representative in parliament for the The death of his father, in 1751, produced his borough of Oakhampton; and being warmed with succession to the title and a large estate; and his that patriotic ardour which rarely fails to inspire taste for rural ornament rendered Hagley one of the bosom of an ingenuous youth, he became a dis- the most delightful residences in the kingdom. At tinguished partisan of opposition-politics, whilst his the dissolution of the ministry, of which he comfather was a supporter of the ministry, then ranged posed a part, in 1759, he was rewarded with elers under the banners of Walpole. When Frederic tion to the peerage, by the style of Baron Lyttelton Prince of Wales, having quarrelled with the court, of Frankley, in the county of Worcester. He formed a separate court of his own, in 1737, Lyttel- died of a lingering disorder, which he bore with ton was appointed secretary to the Prince, with an pious resignation, in August 1773, in the 64th year advanced salary. At this time Pope bestowed his of his age. praise upon our patriot in an animated couplet :
Free as young Lyttelton her cause pursue,
THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.
IN FOUR ECLOGUES.
1. Uncertainty. To Mr. Pope.
Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wings
To the green margin of a lonely wood,
his unwilling tongue to give them rent.
TO MR. DODDINGTON, AFTERWARDS LORD MELCOMBE
“ Ye nymphs," he cried, “ye Dryads, who so long Have favour'd Damon, and inspir'd his song ;
ноРЕ. . For whom, retir'd, I shun the gay resorts Of sportful cities, and of pompous courts;
ECLOGUE II. In vain I bid the restless world adieu, To seek tranquillity and peace with you. Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage No factions here can form, no wars can wage: Though Envy frowns not on your humble shades, Hear, Doddington, the notes that shepherds sing, Nor Calumny your innocence invades :
Like those that warbling hail the genial Spring. Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast,
Nor Pan, nor Phæbus, tunes our artless reeds : Too often violates your boasted rest ;
From Love alone their melody proceeds. With inbred storms disturbs your calm retreat, From Love, Theocritus, on Enna's plains, And taints with bitterness each rural sweet.
Learnt the wild sweetness of luis Doric strains. “ Ah, luckless day! when first with fond surprise Young Maro, touch'd by his inspiring dart, On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes !
Could charm each ear, and soften every heart : Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost, Me too his power has reach'd, and bids with thine Then reason, liberty, at once were lost :
My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join.
No more unfrequented paths he stray'd,
“ Blest be the hour,” he said, “ that happy hour, From the same spring at the same moment flow? When first I own’d my Delia's gentle power ; Unhappy boy! these vain inquiries cease,
Then gloomy discontent and pining care Thought could not guard, nor will restore, thy peace: Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there; Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure, Soft wishes there they left, and gay desires, And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to cure. Delightful languors, and transporting fires. Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, How kind she was, and with what pleasing art These eyes first gaz'd upon the charming maid ; She strove its fondest wishes to obtain,
There she appear'd, on that auspicious day, Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain. When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay: If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band; She led the dance - Heavens! with what
she To me alone she gave her willing hand :
mov'd! Her partial taste, if e'er 1 touch'd the lyre, Who could have seen her then, and have lov'd ? Still in my song found something to admire. I strove not to resist so sweet a flame, By none but her my crook with flowers was crown'd, But gloried in a happy captive's name ; By none but her my brows with ivy bound : Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free, The world, that Damon was her choice, believ'd, But leave to brutes their savage liberty. The world, alas! like Damon, was deceiv'd.
“ And art thou then, fond youth, secure of joy ? When last I saw her, and declar'd my fire Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy ? In words as soft as passion could inspire,
Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store ? Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew, Or hast thou never prov'd his fatal power ? Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu. Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy The frighted hind, who sees his ripen’d corn
cheek? Up from the roots by sudden tempests torn, Why sigh'd thy heart as if it strove to break ? Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted lie, Why were the desert rocks invok'd to hear Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I.
The plaintive accent of thy sad despair ? Ah, how have I deserv'd, inhuman maid,
From Delia's rigour all those pains arose, To have my faithful service thus repaid ?
Delia, who now compassionates my woes, Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd,
Who bids me hope ; and in that charming word But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd? Has peace and transport to my soul restor'd. Or did you only nurse my growing love,
“ Begin, my pipe, begin the gladsome lay ; That with more pain I might your hatred prove ? A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay ; Sure guilty treachery no place could find
A kiss obtain'd 'twixt struggling and consent, In such a gentle, such a generous mind :
Given with forc'd anger, and disguis'd content. A maid brought up the woods and wilds among No laureat wreaths I ask, to bind my brows, Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts so young: Such as the Muse on lofty bards bestows : No; let me rather think her anger feign’d, Let other swains to praise or fame aspire ; Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd; I from her lips my recompense require. 'T was only modesty that seem'd disdain,
“Why stays my Delia in her secret bower? And her heart suffer'd when she gave me pain.” Light gales have chas'd the late impending shower ; Pleas'd with this flattering thought, the love-sick Th' emerging Sun more bright his beams extends ; boy
Oppos'd, its beauteous arch the rainbow bends ! Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy ;
Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay: Back to his flock more cheerful he return'd, The birds renew their songs on every spray! When now the setting Sun more fiercely burn'd, Come forth, my love, thy shepherd's joys to crown: Blue vapours rose along the mazy rills,
All nature smiles. — Will only Delia frown? And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills. “ Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain,
While every flower of every sweet they drain :
See, how beneath yon hillock's shady steep, Here, half-conceal'd in trees, a cottage stands, The shelter'd herds on flowery couches sleep : A castle there the opening plain commands; Nor bees, nor herds, are half so blest as I,
Beyond, a town with glittering spires is crown'd, If with my fond desires my love comply ;
And distant hills the wide horizon bound : From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows,
So charming was the scene, awhile the swain And on her bosom dwells more soft repose. Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain :
“ Ah! how, my dear, shall I deserve thy charms? | But soon the stings infix'd within his heart What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ? With cruel force renew'd their raging smart : A bird for thee in silken bands I hold,
His flowery wreath, which long with pride he wore, Whose yellow plumage shines like polish'd gold ; The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore, From distant isles the lovely stranger came, Then cried, “ May all thy charms, ungrateful maid, And bears the fortunate Canaries' name;
Like these neglected roses, droop and fade! In all our woods none boasts so sweet a note, May angry Heaven deform each guilty grace, Not ev'n the nightingale's melodious throat. That triumphs now in that deluding face ! Accept of this ; and could I add beside
Those alter'd looks may every shepherd fly, What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide : And ev’n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I! If all the gems in eastern rocks were mine,
“ Say, thou inoonstant, what has Damon done, On thee alone their glittering pride should shine. To lose the heart his tedious pains had won ? But, if thy mind no gifts have power to move, Tell me what charms you in my rival find, Phæbus himself shall leave th’ Aonian grove : Against whose power no ties have strength to bind? The tuneful Nine, who never sue in vain,
Has he, like me, with long obedience strove Shall come sweet suppliants for their favourite To conquer your disdain, and merit love? swain.
Has lie with transport every smile ador'd, For him each blue-ey'd Naiad of the flood, And died with grief at each ungentle word ? For him each green-hair’d sister of the wood, Ah, no! the conquest was obtain’d with ease; Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray He pleased you, by not studying to please : His music calls to dance the night away.
His careless indolence your pride alarm'd; And you, fair nymphs, companions of my love, And, had he lov'd you more, he less had charm'd. With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove, “ O pain to think ! another shall possess I beg you recommend my faithful flame,
Those balmy lips which I was wont to press : And let her often hear her shepherd's name : Another on her panting breast shall lie, Shade all my faults from her inquiring sight, And catch sweet madness from her swimming eye And show my merits in the fairest light;
I saw their friendly flocks together feed, My pipe your kind assistance shall repay,
I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the inead: And every friend shall claim a different lay. Would my clos'd eye had sunk in endless night,
“ But see! in yonder glade the heavenly fair Ere I was doom'd to bear that hateful sight! Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air
Where'er they pass'd, be blasted every flower, Ah, thither let me fly with eager feet;
And hungry wolves their helpless flocks devour !-Adieu, my pipe; I go my love to meet
Ah, wretched swain, could no examples more O, may I find her as we parted last,
Thy heedless heart to shun the rage of love ? And may each future hour be like the past ! Hast thou not heard how poor Menalcas died So shall the whitest lamb these pastures feed, A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride ? Propitious Venus, on thy altars bleed.”
Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain,
Around his tomb their tears the Muses paid;
And all things mourn’d, but the relentless maid.
Would I could die like him, and be at peace !
These torments in the quiet grave would cease ;
And rest, as if my Delia still were kind.
Alas! what aid, fond swain, wouldst thou receive ? In gentle love the sweetest joys we find :
Could thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve? Yet ev’n those joys dire Jealousy molests,
Protect her, Heaven ! and let her never know
I ask no vengeance from the powers above;
Let me this fondness from my bosom tear,
Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair. Begin, my Muse, and Damon's woes rehearse, Come, cool Indifference, and heal my breast; In wildest numbers and disorder'd verse.
Wearied, at length, I seek thy downy rest : On a romantic mountain's airy head
No turbulence of passion shall destroy (While browzing goats at ease around him fed) My future ease with flattering hopes of joy. Anxious he lay, with jealous cares opprest ; Hear, mighty Pan, and, all ye sylvans, hear Distrust and anger labouring in his breast What by your guardian deities I swear ; The vale beneath a pleasing prospect yields No more my eyes shall view her fatal charms, Of verdant meads and cultivated fields ;
No more I'll court the traitoress to my arms; Through these a river rolls its winding flood, Not all her arts my stealy soul shall move, Adorn'd with various tufts of rising wood; And she shall find that reason conquers love !".
TO MR. EDWARD WALPOLE.