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, Ah heedlefs ALBION! too benignly prone But quick-ey'd prudence never yet be thine? From the fair natives of this peerless hill Thou gav'ft the sheep that browze Iberian plains: Their plaintive cries the faithlefs region fill, Their fleece adorns an haughty foe's domains. Ill-fated flocks! from cliff to cliff they ftray; But ALBION's youth her native fleece defpife; Unmov'd they hear the pining fhepherd's moan; In filky folds each nervous limb disguise, Allur'd by ev'ry trea fure, but their own. Oft have I hurry'd down the rocky steep, Ere long she came: ah! woe is me, she came ! Will no bright maid, by worth, by titles known, That virtue's drefs, and beauty's are the fame? Will no fam'd chief fupport this gen'rous maid? What pow'r unfeen my ravish'd fancy fires? praife. O might my breath for *** praise fuffice, My ravish'd eyes! how calmly would they clofe! + was born to fpread the gen'ral joy Written in fpring 1743. GAIN the lab'ring hind inverts the foil; AG Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave; Another fpring renews the foldier's toil, And finds me vacant in the rural cave. As the foft lyre difplay'd my wonted loves, He glanc'd contemptuous o'er my ruin'd fold; Yes, ALPHEUS! fly the purer paths of fate; Abjure these scenes from venal paffions free; Know, in this grove, I vow'd perpetual hate, War, endless war, with lucre and with thee. Here "Tis paft-O CARTHAGE! vanquish'd! honour'd fhade! He ceas'd-abash'd the conscious audience hear; He ELEGY XX. compares his humble fortune with the diftrefs of others; and his fubjection to DELIA, with the miserable fervitude of an African flave. WHY droops this heart with fancy'd woes forlorn ? Why finks my foul beneath each wint❜ry sky? What penfive crowds, by ceaseless labours worn, What myriads, wish to be as bleft as I! What *By the terms forced upon the CARTHAGINIANS by SCIPIO, they were to deliver up all the elephants, and to pay near two miltions fterling. What tho' my roofs devoid of pomp arise, Where only fimple friendship deigns to ftray? 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 caufes well becomes the brave, The pang fhe caufes, 'tis ev'n blifs to bear. See the poor native quit the Lybian shores, Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship heals his wound. Let vacant bards difplay their boasted woes, No, let the muse his piercing pangs disclose, Who bleeds and weeps his fum of life away! On the wild beach in mournful guife he ftood, He stole one fecret moment, to repine. Yet |