Where by remorfe impell'd, repuls'd by fears, And forr'wing dwells on pleasures now no more! Again with patrons, and with friends she roves; She vifits, Isis! thy forfaken ftream, She deems no flood reflects fo bright a beam, She dreams beneath thy facred fhades where, peace, Thy bays might ev'n the civil ftorm repel; Reviews thy focial blifs, thy learned ease, And with no chearful accent cries, farewel! Farewel, with whom to these retreats I stray'd! She paints the progrefs of my rival's vow; Nor yields the refufe of his wreath to mine. She Now blast my hope, now vindicate defpair; Bids my fond verse the love-fick parley cease; Accuse my rigid fate, acquit my fair. Where circling rocks defend fome pathless vale, Alas! there echo will repent the tale Where fhall I find the filent scenes I love? Fain would I mourn my luckless fate alone; Away my friends! my forrows are my own; Why should I breathe around my fick defire? Bear me ye winds, indulgent to my pains, And from the mould'ring refuse, build my cell! Genius of ROME! thy proftrate pomp display; Or penfive fit beneath fome nodding tow'r. Or where some duct, by rolling seasons worn, Or tune my dirges to the water's fall. Genius Genius of CARTHAGE! paint thy ruin'd pride; Tow'rs, arches, fanes in wild confufion ftrewn; Let banish'd* MARIUS, low'ring by thy fide, Compare thy fickle fortunes with his own. Ah no! thou monarch of the ftorms! forbear; Forbear thy rage-on no perennial base Is built frail fear, or hope's deceitful pile; My pains are fled-my joy refumes its place, Shou'd the sky brighten, or MELISSA fmile. Inopemque vitam in tugurio ruinarum Carthaginenfium toleravit, cum Marius infpiciens Carthaginem, illa intuens Ma rium, alter alteri poffent effe folatio. LIV. L ELEGY ELE GY XVIII. He repeats the fong of COLLIN, a difcerning shepherd; lamenting the state of the woollen manufaktury. Ergo omni ftudio glaciem ventofque nivales, Avertes: viltumque feres. VIRGIL. EAR AVON's bank, on ARDEN's flow'ry plain, NEA A* tuneful fhepherd charm'd the lift'ning wave; And funny COTSOL' fondly lov'd the strain; Yet not a garland crowns the fhepherd's grave! Oh loft OPHELIA! fmoothly flow'd the day, When, for his tomb, with each revolving year, Shiv'ring beneath a leafless thorn he lay, When death's chill rigour feiz'd his flowing tongue; The more I found his fault'ring notes decay, The more prophetic truth fublim'd the fong. VOL. I. F "Adieu Mr. SOMERVILLE. "Adieu my flocks, he faid! my wonted care, And you, ye fhepherds! lead my gentle sheep; To breezy hills, or leafy fhelters lead; But if the fky with fhow'rs inceffant weep, Avoid the putrid moisture of the mead. Where the wild thyme perfumes the purpled heath, Long-loit'ring there your fleecy tribes extendBut what avail the maxims I bequeath? The fruitless gift of an officious friend! Ah! what avails the tim'rous lambs to guard, If GALLIA's craft the pond'rous fleece purloin! Was it for this, by conftant vigils worn, For this, I led them from the pointed thorn? Ah heedlefs ALBION! too benignly prone From |