Genius of CARTHAGE! paint thy ruin'd pride; Tow'rs, arches, fanes in wild confusion strewn, 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 Marium, alter alteri poffent effe folatio. LIV. FLEGY He repeats the fong of COLLIN, a difcerning fhepherd; lamenting the ftate of the woollen manufactury. Ergo omni ftudio glaciem ventofque nivales, Avertes: victumque feres. VIRGIL. EAR AVON's bank, on ARDEN's flow'ry plain, NEA A* tuneful fhepherd charm'd the lift'ning wave; And funny CorSOL' 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 * Mr. SOMERVILLE. "Adieu "Adieu my flocks, he faid! my wonted care, By funny mountain, or by verdant fhore! May fome more happy hand your fold prepare, And may you need your COLLIN's crook no more. And you, ye fhepherds! lead my gentle sheep; Where the wild thyme perfumes the purpled heath, 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 Shall ev'ry other virtue grace thy throne, But quick-ey'd prudence never yet be thine? From From the fair natives of this peerless hill Thou gav'st the sheep that browze Iberian plains: Their plaintive cries the faithless region fill, Their fleece adorns an haughty foe's domains. Ill-fated flocks from cliff to cliff they ftray; Far from their dams their native guardians far! Where the soft shepherd, all the livelong day, Chaunts his proud miftrefs to his hoarfe guittar. But ALBION's youth her native fleece defpife; Oft have I hurry'd down the rocky steep, Ere long she came: ah! woe is me, fhe came! Will no bright maid, by worth, by titles known, And let her charms, and her example, own Will no fam'd chief fupport this gen'rous maid: What pow'r unfeen my ravish'd fancy fires? * O might my breath for *** praise fuffice, My ravish'd eyes! how calmly wou'd they clofe! was born to fpread the gen'ral joy; By virtue rapt, by party uncontroul'd; BRITONS for BRITAIN fhall the crook employ; BRITONS for BRITAIN'S glory fhear the fold." ELEGY |