'Tis paft-OCARTHAGE! vanquish'd! honour'd fhade! Go, the mean forrows of thy fons deplore; Had freedom fhar'd the vow to fortune paid, She ne'er, like fortune, had forfook thy fhore." He ceas'd-abash'd the conscious audience hear; By the terms forced upon the CARTHAGINIANS by SCIPIO, they were to deliver up all the elephants, and to pay near two millions sterling: ELEGY He compares his humble fortune with the distress of others; and his fubjection to DELIA, with the miferable fervitude of an African flave. WE HY droops this heart, with fancy'd woes forlorn? Why finks my foul beneath each wint'ry sky? What pensive crowds, by ceaseless labours worn, What myriads, wish to be as bleft as I! What tho' my roofs devoid of pomp arise, Nor tempt the proud to quit his deftin'd way? Nor coftly art my flow'ry dales disguise, Where only fimple friendship deigns to stray? See the wild fons of LAPLAND's chill domain, Slave tho' I be, to DELIA's eyes a flave, My DELIA's eyes endear the bands I wear; The figh fhe causes well becomes the brave, The pang fhe caufes, 'tis ev'n blifs to bear. 3 See See the poor native quit the Lybian fhores, Ah! not in love's delightful fetters bound! No radiant fmile his dying peace restores, Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship heals his wound、 Let vacant bards difplay their boaftive woes, No, let the muse his piercing pangs disclose, Who bleeds and weeps his sum of life away On the wild beach in mournful guise he ftood, He stole one fecret moment, to repine. Yet the mufe liften'd to the plaints he made; But smooth'd, and fuited to the founding lyre. 66 Why am I ravish'd from my native strand? Here the dire locufts horrid fwarms prevail; When When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace, O race more polish'd, more fevere than they! Ye prouling wolves purfue my latest cries! Thou hungry tyger, leave thy reeking den! Ye fandy waftes in rapid eddies rife ! O tear me from the whips and fcorns of men! Yet in their face fuperior beauty glows; Are fmiles the mien of rapine and of wrong Yet from their lip the voice of mercy flows, And ev'n religion dwells upon their tongue. ? Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes, Where gentle minds convey'd by death repair, But ftain'd with blood, and crimson'd o'er with crimes, Say, fhall they merit what they paint fo fair? No, careless, hopeless of those fertile plains, For them our tusky elephant expires; For them we drain the mine's embowel'd gold; Where rove the brutal nations wild defires ?Our limbs are purchas'd, and our life is fold! * Spoke by a favage. Yet Yet fhores there are, bleft shores for us remain, And favour'd ifles with golden fruitage crown' Where tufted flow'rets paint the verdant plain, Where ev'ry breeze shall med'cine ev'ry wound. There the ftern tyrant that embitters life Shall, vainly fuppliant, spread his asking hand; There fhall we view the billow's raging strife, Aid the kind breast, and waft his boat to land.” ELEGY |