Must I not groan beneath a guilty load,
Praife him I fcorn, and him I love betray?
Does not felonious envy bar the road?

Or falfehood's treach'rous foot befet the way?

Say fhou'd I pass thro' favour's crowded gate,
Muft not fair truth inglorious wait behind?
Whilst I approach the glitt'ring fcenes of ftate,
My beft companion no admittance find?

Nars'd in the fhades by freedom's lenient care,
Shall I the rigid fway of fortune own?
Taught by the voice of pious truth, prepare
To fpurn an altar, and adore a throne?

And when proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes,
And when it leaves me no unfhaken friend,
Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads,
Which oaks embosom, and which hills defend?

Oh! if thefe ills the price of pow'r advance,
Check not my speed where focial joys invite!
The troubled vifion caft a mournful glance,

And fighing vanish'd in the fhades of night.

ELEGY

ELEGY VIII.

He describes his early love of poetry, and its confequences. To Mr. G

G

1745.

AH me! what envious magic thins my fold?
Α

What mutter'd spell retards their late increase?

Such lefs'ning fleeces muft the fwain behold,
That e'er with Doric pipe essays to please.

I faw my friends in ev'ning circles meet;
I took my vocal reed, and tun'd my lay;
I heard them fay my vocal reed was sweet:

Ah fool! to credit what I heard them say!

Ill-fated bard! that feeks his skill to fhow,

Then courts the judgment of a friendly ear! Not the poor veteran, that permits his foe

To guide his doubtful step, has more to fear.

Nor cou'd my G-- mistake the critic's laws,
"Till pious friendship mark'd the pleasing way:
Welcome fuch error! ever bleft the cause!

Ev'n tho' it led me boundless leagues aftray!

*N. B. Written after the death of Mr. POPE.

Couldft

1

Muft I not groan beneath a guilty load,
Praife him I fcorn, and him I love betray?
Does not felonious envy bar the road?

Or falfehood's treach'rous foot befet the way?

Say fhou'd I pafs thro' favour's crowded gate,

Muft not fair truth inglorious wait behind?

Whilst I approach the glitt'ring fcenes of state,
My best companion no admittance find?

Nars'd in the fhades by freedom's lenient care,
Shall I the rigid fway of fortune own?
Taught by the voice of pious truth, prepare
To fpurn an altar, and adore a throne?

And when proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes,
And when it leaves me no unfhaken friend,

Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads,
Which oaks embofom, and which hills defend?

Oh! if thefe ills the price of pow'r advance,
Check not my speed where focial joys invite!
The troubled vision cast a mournful glance,

And fighing vanish'd in the fhades of night.

ELEGY

Enough of tears has wept the virtuous dead ;
Ah might we now the pious rage controul!
Hush'd be my grief ere ev'ry fmile be fled,
Ere the deep swelling figh fubvert the foul!

If near fome trophy fpring a ftripling bay,
Pleas'd we behold the graceful umbrage rife;
But foon too deep it works its baneful way,
And, low on earth, the proftrate* ruin lies.

ELEGY IX.

He defcribes his difinterestedness to a friend.

I

NE'ER muft tinge my lip with Celtic wines;

The pomp of INDIA muft I ne'er display;
Nor boaft the produce of Peruvian mines,
Nor, with Italian founds, deceive the day.

Down yonder brook my crystal bev'rage flows;
My grateful sheep their annual fleeces bring;
Fair in my garden buds the damask rose,

And, from my grove, I hear the throstle fing.

My

* Alludes to what is reported of the bay tree, that if it is planted too near the walls of an edifice, its roots will work their way underneath, till they deftroy the foundation.

My fellow fwains! avert your dazzled eyes;
In vain allur'd by glitt'ring fpoils they rove;
The fates ne'er meant them for the fhepherd's prize,
Yet gave them ample recompence, in love.

They gave you vigour from your parent's veins ;
They gave you toils; but toils your finews brace;
They gave you nymphs, that own their amorous pains,
And shades, the refuge of the gentle race.

To carve your loves, to paint your mutual flames,
See! polifh'd fair, the beech's friendly rind!
To fing foft carrols to your lovely dames,
See vocal grotts, and echoing vales affign'd!

Would't thou, my STREPHON, love's delighted flave!
Tho' fure the wreaths of chivalry to share,
Forego the ribbon thy MATILDA gave,

And giving, bade thee in remembrance wear?

Ill fare my peace, but ev'ry idle toy,

If to my mind my DELIA's form it brings, Has truer worth, imparts fincerer joy,

Than all that bears the radiant ftamp of kings.

O my foul weeps, my breaft with anguish bleeds,
When love deplores the tyrant pow'r of gain!
Difdaining riches as the futile weeds,

I rife fuperior, and the rich difdain.

Of