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tenderness of sentiment he has endeavoured to impress* he begs the metre also may not be too suddenly condemned. The public ear, habituated os late to a quicker measure, may perhaps consider this as heavy and languid; but an objection of that kind may gradually lose its force, if this measure should be allowed to suit the nature of elegy.

If it shoidd happen to be considered as an objection with others, that there is too much of a moral cast diffused through the whole; it is replied, that he endeavoured to animate the poetry so far as not to render this objection too obvious; or to risque excluding the fashionable reader: at the same time never deviating from a fixed principle, that poetry without morality is but the blossom of a fruit-tree. Poetry is indeed like that species of plants, which may bear at once both fruits and blossoms, and the tree is by na means in perfection without the former, however it may be embellished by the sowers which surround it.

ELEGY I.

He arrives at his retirement in the country, and takes occasion to expatiate in praise of simplicity. To a . friend. ,

FOR rural virtues, and for native skies,
I bade Augusta's venal sons farewel;
Now, mid the trees, I see my smoke arise;
Now hear the fountains bubbling round my cell.

0 may that genius, which secures my rest,
Preserve this villa for a friend that's dear!

Ne 'er may my vintage glad the sordid breast!
Ne'er tinge the lip that dares be unsincere!

Far from these paths, ye faithless friends, depart!

Fly my plain board, abhor my hostile name! Hence! the faint verse that flows not from the heart,

But mourns in labour'd strains, the price of fame!

O O lov'd simplicity! be thine the prize!

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Assiduous art correct her page in vain! His be the palm who, guiltless of disguise,

Contemns the pow'r, the dull resource to feign!

Still may the mourner, lavish of his tears
For lucre's venal meed, invite my scorn!

Still may the bard dissembling doubts and fears,
For praise, for flatt'ry sighing, sigh forlorn!

Soft as the line of love-sick Hammond flows,
'Twas his fond heart erTus'd the melting theme';

-Ah! never could Aonia's hill disclose
So fair a fountain, or so lov'd a stream.

Ye- loveless bards! intent with artful pains
To form a sigh, or to contrive a tear!

Forgo your Pindus, and on plains

Survey Camilla's charms, and grow sincere.

But thou, my friend! while in thy youthful soul
Love's gentle tyrant seats his aweful throne,

Write from thy bosom—let not art controul
The ready pen, that makes his edicts known.

Pleasing when youth is long expir'd, to trace
The forms our pencil, or our pen design'd!

"Such was our youthful air and shape and face!
"Such the soft image of our youthful mind!

Soft

Soft whilst we steep beneath the rural bow'rs,
The loves and graces steal unseen away;

And where the turf disfus'd its pomp of flow'rs,
We wake to wint'ry scenes of chill decay!

Curse the sad fortune that detains thy fair;

Praise the soft hours that gave thee to her arms; Paint thy proud scorn of ev'ry vulgar care,

When hope exalts thee, or when doubt alarms.

Where with Gekone thou hast worn the day,
Near fount or stream, in meditation, rove;

If in the grove Genone lov'd to stray,
The faithful muse shall meet thee in the'grove.

ELEGY ELEGY II.

On posthumous reputation. To a friend.

OG R IE F of griefs! that envy's frantic ire
Should rob the living virtue of its praise!
O foolish muses! that with zeal aspire

To deck the cold insensate shrine with bays!

When the free spirit quits her humble frame,

To tread the skies with radiant garlands crown'd,

Say, will she hear the distant voice of fame?
Or hearing, fancy sweetness in the sound? .

Perhaps ev'n genius pours a slighted lay;

Perhaps ev'n friendship sheds a fruitless tear; Ev'n Lyttelton but vainly trims the bay,

And fondly graces Hammond's mournful bier.

Tho' weeping virgins haunt his favour'd urn,
Renew their chaplets, and repeat their sighs;

Tho', near his tomb, Sabæan odours burn,
The loit'ring fragrance will it reach the skies?

No, shou'd his Delia votive wreaths prepare,
Delia might place the votive wreaths in vain:

Yet the dear hope of Delia's future care

Once crown'd his pleasures, and dispell'd his pain.

Yes

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