Let the proud Soldan wound th' Arcadian groves, Tell not of realms by ruthless war difmay'd; If AUSTRIA bleed beneath her boasted steel. Beneath her palm IDUME vents her moan; No crefcent here difplays its baneful horns; No turban'd hoft the voice of truth reproves; Learning's free fource the fage's breast adorns, And poets, not inglorious, chaunt their loves. Boast, favour'd MEDIA, boast thy flow'ry stores 'Tis the rich beauties of BRITANNIA's mind. While GREENVILLE's breaft cou'dvirtue's ftores afford,, What envy'd flota bore fo fair a freight? The mine compared in vain its latent hoard, * Written about the time of captain GREENVILLE's death. VOL. I. E Thee Thee GREENVILLE, thee with calmeft courage fraught, Prefumptuous war, which could thy life destroy, Bid me no more a fervile realm compare, No more the mufe of partial praise arraign; ELEGY ELE GY XV. In memory of a* private family in WORCESTERSHIRE, F ROM a lone tow'r with rev'rend ivy crown'd, The pealing bell awak'd a tender figh; Still, as the village caught the waving found, A fwelling tear diftream'd from ev'ry eye. So droop'd, I ween, each BRITON's breast of old, When the dull curfew fpoke their freedom fled; For fighing as the mournful accent roll'd, Our hope, they cry'd, our kind fupport, is dead! 'Twas good PALEMON-near a fhaded pool, A few small spires, to Gothic fancy fair, *The penns of HARBOROUGH; a place whofe name in the SAXON language, alludes to an arm. And there is a tradition that there was a battle fought, on the Downs adjoining, betwixt the BRITONS and the ROMANS. One favour'd fon engag'd his tenderest care; One pious youth his whole affection crown'd: In his young breast the virtues sprung so fair, Such charms display'd, such sweets diffus'd around. But whilft gay transport in his face appears, O'er the pale corfe we faw him gently bend; Snatch'd in thy prime! alas the stroke were mild, Had my frail form obey'd the fates' decree 1 Bleft were my lot, OCYNTHIO! O my child! Had heav'n fo pleas'd, and I had dy'd for thee.” Five fleepless nights he stem'd this tide of woes; From yonder dome the mournful bier was borne. 'Twas on thofe * downs, by Roman hosts annoy'd, Fought our bold fathers; ruftic, unrefin'd! Freedom's plain fons, in martial cares employ'd! They ting'd their bodies, but unmask'd their mind. 'Twas HARBOROUGH Downs. 'Twas there, in happier times, this virtuous race, No wild ambition fir'd their tranquil breast, To fwell with empty founds a spotless name; If foft'ring fkies, the fun, the fhow'r were bleft, Their bounty spread; their field's extent the fame. Those fields, profufe of raiment, food, and fire, None, to a virgin's mind, prefer'd her dow'r ; They spoke of fortune, as fome doubtful dame, Here youth's free fpirit, innocently gay, Enjoy'd the most that innocence can give; Those wholesome fweets, that border virtue's way; Those cooling fruits, that we may tafte and live. |