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J-Iere Pop* !—ah never must: that tow'ring mind
To his lov'd haunts, or dearer friend, return!

"What art! what friendships! oh ! what fame resign'JJ
—In yonder gladeJ trace his mournful urn,

Where is the breast can rage or hate retain,

And these glad streams and smiling lawns behold?

Where is the breast can hear the woodland strain,
And think fair freedom well e^chang'd for gold 1

Thro' these foft shades delighted let me stray,
While o'er my head forgotten suns descend!

Thro' these dear valleys bend my casual way,
'Till setting life a total shade extend 1

Here far from courts, and void of pompous care ,

I'll muse how much I owe mine humbler fate: Or shrink to find, how much ambition dares, . To shine m anguish, apd to grieve in state!

Canst thou, O sun! that spotless throne disclose,: Where her bold arm has left no sanguine stain?

Where, shew me where, the lineal scepter glows, .Pure, as the simple crook that rules the plain?

Tremendous pomp! where hate, distrust, and fear.

In kindred bosoms solve the social tie; There not the parent's smile is half sincere;

Nor void of art the consort's melting eye.

G 4 Th. rc

There with the friendly wish, the kindly flame,
No face is brighten'd, and no bosoms beat;

Youth, manhood, age, avow one sordid aim,
And ev'n the .beardless lip essays deceit.

There coward rumours walk their murd'rous round;

The glance, that more than rural blame instills; Whispers, that ting'd With friendship doubly wound,

Pity that injures, and concern that kills.

There anger whets, but love can ne'er engage;

Caressing brothers part but to revile; There all men smile, and prudence warns the wise,

To dread the fatal stroke of all that smile.

There all are rivals! sister, son, and fire,
With horrid purpose hug destructive arms;

There soft-ey'd maids in murd'rous plots conspire,
And scorn the gentler mischief of their charms.

Let servile minds one endless watch endure;

Day, night, nor hour, their anxious guard resign; But lay me, fate! on flow'ry banks, secure

Tho' my whole soul be, like my limbs, supine.

Yes, may my tongue disdain a vassal's care;

My lyre resound no prostituted lay; More warm to merit, more elate to wear

The cap of freedom, than the crown of bays.

Sooth'd

Sooth'd by the murmurs of my pebbled flood,
I wish it not o'er golden sands to flow;

Chear'd by the verdure of my spiral wood,
I scorn the quarry, where no shrub can grow.

No midnight pangs the shepherd's peace pursue;

His tongue, his hand, attempts no secret wound j He sings his Delia, and if she be true,

His love at once, and his ambition's crown'd.

ELEGY ELEGY XXIV.

He takes occasion from the fate of Eleanor of Brz-. TAQJsE *, to fyggeji tie imperfect pleasures of a solitary life.

Hen beauty mourns, by fate's injurious doom,

* W Hid from the chearful glance of human eye; When nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb,

Hard is that heart which checks the rising sigh*

Fair Eleonora! wou'd no gallant mind
The cause of love, the cause of justice own?

Matchless thy charms, and was no life resign'd
To see them sparkle from their native throne?

Or had fair freedom's hand unveil'd thy charms,
Well might such brows the regal gem resign;

Thy radiant mien might scorn the guilt of arms,
Yet Albion's aweful empire yield to thine,

O shame of Britons \ in one sullen tow'r ' .

She wet with royal tears her daily cell; She found keen anguish ev'ry rose devour;

They sprung, they shone, they faded, and they fell

* Eleanor of Bretagne, the lawfus heiress of the Engsish crown, upon the death of Arthur, in the reign of king John. She was esteemed the beauty of her time; was imprisoned forty years (till the time of her death) in Bristol castse.

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Thro' one dim lattice fring'd with ivy round,
Successive suns a languid radiance threw;

To paint how fierce her angry guardian frown'd,
To mark how fast her waning beauty flew.

This, age might bear; then sated fancy palls,
Nor warmly hopes what splendor can supply;

Fond youth incessant mourns, if rigid walls
Restrain its list'ning ear, its curious eye.

Believe me * * * * the pretence is vain!

This boasted calm that smooths our early days, For never yet could youthful mind restrain

Th' alternate pant for pleasure and for praise.

Ev'n me, by shady oak or limpid spring,
Ev'n me, the scenes of polish'd life allure;

Some genius whispers " Life is on the wing,
And hard his lot that languishes obscure.

What tho' thy riper mind admire no more—
The shining cincture, and the broider'd fold

Can pierce like light'ning thro' the figur'd ore, And melt to dross the radiant forms of gold.

Furs, ermins, rods may well attract thy scorn;
The futile presents of capricious pow'r!

But wit, but worth, the public sphere adorn,
And who but envies then the social hour?

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