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No torrents stain thy limpid source ;

STROPHE.
No rocks impede thy dimpling course,

The curlieu scivam'd, the Tritons blew
That sweetly warbles o'er its bed,
With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread;

| Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite;

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;
The salmon, monarch of the tide;

Where under cover of a flowering thorn,
The ruthless pike, intent on war;

While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains, The silver eel, and mottled par. *

The auspicious fruit of stol'n embrace was born Devolving from thy parent lake,

The mountain Dryads seiz'd with joy, A charming maze thy waters make,

The smiling infant to their charge consign'd; By bowers of birch, and groves of pine,

The Doric Muse caress'd the favourite boy; 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,

The fiercer flames of his maternal sire.
And shepherds piping in the dale,
And ancient Faith that knows no guile,

ANTISTROPHE.
And Industry imbrown'd with toil,
And hearts resolv'd, and hands prepar'd, Accomplished thus, he wing'd his way,
The blessings they enjoy to guard.

And zealous roved from pole to pole,
The rolls of right eternal to display,
And warm with patriot thoughts the aspiring soul
On desert isles it was he that rais'd

Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave,
ODE TO INDEPENDENCE. Where Tyranny beheld amaz'd

Fair Freedom's temple, where he mark'd her grave.

He steel'd the blunt Batavian's arms
STROPHE.

To burst the Iberian's double chain;
Thy spirit, Independence, let me share !

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,
A goddess violated brought thee forth,

Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man
Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime
Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying

STROPHE.
clime.
What time the iron-hearted Gaul

Arabia's scorching sands he cross'd,

Where blasted nature pants supine,
With frantic Superstition for his guide,
Arm'd with the dagger and the pall,

Conductor of her tribes adust,
The sons of Woden to the field defy'd :

To Freedom's adamantine shrine ;

And many a Tartar hord forlorn, aghast ! The ruthless hag, by Weser's flood,

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.
The vanquish'd were baptiz'd with blood.

He virtue finds, like precious ore,
Diffus'd thro' every baser mould,

Even now he stands on Calvi's rocky shore,
The Saxon prince in horrour fled

| And turns the dross of Corsica to gold. From altars stain'd with human gore;

He, guardian genius, taught my youth

Pomp's tinsel livery to despise :
And Liberty his routed legions led

My lips by him chastis'd to truth,
In safety to the bleak Norwegian shore.
There in a cave asleep she lay,

Ne'er pay'd that homage which the heart denies.
Lull'd by the hoarse-resounding main ;
When a bold savage past that way,

ANTISTROPHE. Impell’d by Destiny, his name Disdain.

Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread, Of ample front the portly chief appear'd : Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity combin'd, 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;
And deeply felt the impression of her charms : | And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,
He seiz'd the advantage Fate allow'd;

Full often wreath'd around the miscreant's brox : 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.

ANTISTROPHE.

Where ever-dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of stale profession's froth !

ANTISTROPHL.
And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,

Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth.

By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell,

Where the poised lark his evening ditty chaunts, STROPHE.

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 chord that fluttering life sustains : For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,

And fearless Poverty shall guard the door ;
And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string; And Taste unspoil'd the frugal table spread;
Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay; And Industry supply the humble store;
And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ring; | And sleep unbribed his dews refreshing shed:
Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread shall intervene; White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite,
And Nature still to all her feelings just,

Shall chase far off the goblins of the night;
In vengeance hang a damp on every scene, And Independence o'er the day preside,
Shook from the baleful pinions of Disgust. | Propitious power! my patron and my pride.

GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON.

GEORGE LORD 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 versifisence to his father are pleasing proofs of his sound cation, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy

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 bis 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 elersunder the banners of Walpole. When Frederiction 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,
Still true to virtue, and as warm as true.

THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.

IN FOUR ECLOGUES.

1. Uncertainty. To Mr. Pope.
2. Hope. To the Hon. George Doddington.
3. Jealousy. To Edward Walpole, Esq.
4. Possession. To the Right Hon. the Lord Viscount

Cobham.

Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing
Of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing:
Wilt thou with me revisit once again
The crystal fountain, and the flowery plain?
Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verse relate
The various changes of a lover's state;
And, while each turn of passion I pursue,
Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true ?

To the green margin of a lonely wood,
Whose pendant shades o'erlook'd a silver flood,
Young Damon came, unknowing where he stray'd,
Full of the image of his beauteous maid :
His flock, far off, unfed, untended, lay,
To every savage a defenceless prey ;
No sense of interest could their master move,
And every care seem'd trifling now but love.
Awhile in pensive silence he remainid,
But, though his voice was mute, his looks com-

plain'd;
At length the thoughts, within his bosom pent,
Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent.

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REGIS.

“ Ye nymphs," he cried, " ye Dryads, who so long Have favour'd Damon, and inspir'd his song ;

HOPE.
For whom, retir'd, I shun the gay resorts
Of sportful cities, and of pompous courts;
In vain I bid the restless world adieu,

Eclogue II.
To seek tranquillity and peace with you.

TO MR. DODDINGTON, AFTERWARDS LORD MELCOMBE 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 Phoebus, 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. And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone, 1 Damon no longer sought the silent shade, but what my heart employ'd on her alone. No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd, Then too she smil'd: can smiles our peace destroy, | But callid the swains to hear his jocund song, Those lovely children of Content and Joy? And told his joy to all the rural throng. How can soft pleasure and tormenting woe

« 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, Confirın 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 grace 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 not 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 lic, 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. 'I 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 : Biue 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 inconstant, 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 move 0, 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,
Lov'd by the nyinphs, by Phæbus lov'd in vain :

Around his tomb their tears the Muses paid;
JEALOUSY.

And all things mourn'd, but the relentless maid.

Would I could die like him, and be at peace ! Eclogue III.

These torments in the quiet grave would cease ;

There my vex'd thoughts a calm repose would find, TO MR. EDWARD WALPOLE.

| And rest, as if my Delia still were kind. The gods, O Walpole, give no bliss sincere; i No, let me live, her falsehood to upbraid: Wealth is disturb’d by care, and power by fear : Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid. — Of all the passions that employ the mind,

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
And blackens cach fair image in our breasts. The slightest part of hapless Damon's woe:
O nay the warmth of thy too tender heart

I ask no vengeance from the powers above;
Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venom'd dart ! All I implore is never more to love. —
For thy own quiet, think thy mistress just,

Let me this fondness from my bosom tear,
And wisely take thy happiness on trust.

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 food, Not all her arts my steady soul shall move, Adorn'd with various tufts of rising wood; | And she shall find that reason conquers love !"

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