But let grave annals paint the warrior's fame;
Fair fhine his arms in history enroll❜d;
Whilst humbler lyres his civil worth proclaim,
His nobler hate of avarice and gold.

Now Punic pride its final eve furvey'd ;
Its hosts exhausted, and its fleets on fire;
Patient the victors lurid frown obey'd,

And saw th' unwilling elephants retire.

But when their gold deprefs'd the yielding scale,
Their gold, in pyramidic plenty pil❜d,

He saw th' unutterable grief prevail

He saw their tears, and, in his fury, fmil'd.

Think not, he cry'd, ye view the fmiles of ease,
Or this firm breaft difclaims a patriot's pain;
I fmile, but from a foul eftrang'd to peace,
Frantic with grief, delirious with disdain !

But were it cordial, this detefted fmile,
Seems it lefs timely than the grief ye fhew?
O fons of CARTHAGE! grant me to revile
The fordid source of your indecent woe!

Why weep ye now! ye faw with tearless eye
When your fleet perish'd on the Punic wave:

Where lurk'd the coward tear, the lazy figh,

'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 neʼer, like fortune, had forfook thy shore."

He ceas'd-abash'd the conscious audience hear
Their pallid cheeks a crimson blush unfold;
Yet o'er that virtuous blush diftreams a tear,
And falling moiftens their abandon'd gold. *

By the terms forced upon the CARTHAGINIANS by SCIPIO, they were to deliver up all the elephants, and to pay near two millions fterling:

ELEGY

He compares bis humble fortune with the diftrefs of others; and his subjection to. DELIA, with the miferable fervitude of an African flave.

WH

HY 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 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,
That scoop their couch beneath the drifted fnows!
How void of hope they ken the frozen plain,
Where the sharp east for ever, ever blows!

Slave tho' I be, to DELIA's eyes a slave,

My DELIA'S eyes endear the bands I wear; The figh fhe causes well becomes the brave, The pang fhe causes, 'tis ev'n blifs to bear,

See the poor native quit the Lybian shores,
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,
Shall I the mockery of grief display?

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 stood,
Ere the fhrill boatswain gave the hated fign;
He dropt a tear unfeen into the flood;
He ftole one fecret moment, to repine.

Yet the mufe liften'd to the plaints he made;
Such moving plaints as nature could inspire;
To me the muse his tender plea convey'd,

But fmooth'd, and fuited to the founding lyre.

"Why am I ravish'd from my native strand?
What favage race protects this impious gain?
Shall foreign plagues infest this teeming land,
And more than fea-born monsters plough the main ?

Here the dire locufts horrid fwarms prevail;
Here the blue afps with livid poifon fwell;

Here the dry dipfa writh his finuous mail;
Can we not here, fecure from envy, dwell?

When

When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace,

When the stern panther fought his midnight prey, What fate referv'd me for this * chriftian race?

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 wastes 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,
Rich by our toils, and by our forrows gay,
They ply our labours, and enhance our pains,
And feign these distant regions to repay.

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