Taking a view of the country from his retirement, he is led to meditate on the character of the ancient BRIWritten at the time of a rumoured tax upon TONS. luxury. 1746. TH Hus DAMON fung-What tho' unknown to praise Umbrageous coverts hide my muse and me; Or mid the rural fhepherds, flow my days, Amid the rural fhepherds, I am free. To view fleek vaffals crowd a stately hall, Lord of my time my devious path I bend, And hail the scene by nature's pencil drawn. Thanks be to fate-tho' nor the racy vine, Here Here if my vifta point the mould'ring pile, Pleas'd, if the glowing landskip wave with corn; Or the tall oaks, my country's bulwark, rise; Pleas'd, if mine eye, o'er thousand vallies borne, Difcern the Cambrian hills fupport the skies. And fee PLINLIMMON! ev'n the youthful fight Bleak, joylefs regions! where, by science fir'd, Yet for those mountains, clad with lafting fnow, Then if a chief perform'd a patriot's part, Above or Perfian luxe, or Attic art, The rude majestic monument arose. Progreffive Progreffive ages carol'd forth his fame Sires, to his praife, attun'd their children's tongue; The hoary druid fed the generous flame, While, in fuch ftrains, the reverend wizard fung. "Go forth, my fons !-for what is vital breath, For scenes there are, unknown to war or pain, Where drops the balm that heals a tyrant's wound Where patriots, bleft with boundless freedom, reign, With misletoe's mysterious garlands crown'd. Such are the names that grace your mystic fongs; Hark! from the facred oak that crowns the groves Theirs was the science of a martial race, Now, Now, for fome cheek where guilty blushes glow, Then if foft concord lull'd their fears to fleep, Now the fleek courtier, indolent and vain, To taint his virtue with a foreign ftrain, Leave then, O luxury! this happy foil! * Alludes to a tax upon luxury, then in debate. ELEGY ELEGY Written in the year XXII. when the rights of fepulture were fo frequently viclated. SAY, gentle fleep, that lov't the gloom of night, Parent of dreams! thou great magician, fay, Whence my late vifion thus endures the light; The filent moon had fcal'd the vaulted skies, Ah! not the nymph fo blooming and fo gay, Intomb'd beneath the grafs-green fod was laid. No more her eyes their wonted radiance caft; Nor fuch her hair as deck'd her living face; Nor fuch her voice as charm'd the lift'ning crowd; Nor fuch her drefs as heighten'd ev'ry grace; Alas! all vanifh'd for the mournful fhroud! VOL. I. G Yet |