Progreffive ages carol'd forth his fame;

Sires, to his praise, attun'd their children's tongue; The hoary druid fed the

generous flame,

While, in such strains, the reverend wizard fung.

"Go forth, my fons !-for what is vital breath,
Your gods expell'd, your liberty resign'd?
Go forth, my fons !-for what is instant death
To fouls fecure perennial joys to find?

For scenes there are, unknown to war or pain,

Where drops the balm that heals a tyrant's wound; Where patriots, bleft with boundless freedom, reign, With misletoe's mysterious garlands crown'd.

Such are the names that grace your myftic fongs;
Your folemn woods refound their martial fire;
To you, my fons, the ritual meed belongs,
If in the cause you vanquish, or expire.

Hark! from the facred oak that crowns the

groves

What aweful voice my raptur'd bofom warms! This is the favour'd moment heav'n approves, Sound the fhrill trump; this inftant, found, to arms.

Theirs was the fcience of a martial race,

To shape the lance, or decorate the shield; Ev'n the fair virgin ftain'd her native grace, To give new horrors to the tented field.

Now,

Now, for fome cheek where guilty blushes glow,
For fome falfe FLORIMEL's impure disguise,
The lifted youth, nor war's loud fignal know,
Nor virtue's call, nor fame's imperial prize.

Then if foft concord lull'd their fears to fleep,
Inert and filent slept the manly car;
But rufh'd horrific o'er the fearful steep,

If freedom's aweful clarion breath'd to war..

Now the fleek courtier, indolent and vain,
Thron'd in the fplend'd carriage glides fupine;
To taint his virtue with a foreign strain,
Or at a fav'rite's board, his faith refign.

Leave then, O luxury! this happy foil!
Chafe her, BRITANNIA, to fome hoftile fhore!
Or* fleece the baneful peft with annual spoil,
And let thy virtuous offspring weep no more!

• Alludes to a tax upon luxury, then in debate.

ELEGY

ELEGY

Written in the year

S

XXII.

when the rights of fepulture

were fo frequently violated.

AY, gentle fleep, that lov'ft the gloom of night, Parent of dreams! thou great magician, say, Whence my late vifion thus endures the light; Thus haunts my fancy thro' the glare of day.

The filent moon had fcal'd the vaulted fkies,
And anxious care refign'd my limbs to reft;
A fudden luftre struck my wond'ring eyes,
And SILVIA stood before my couch confest.

Ah! not the nymph fo blooming and so gay,
That led the dance beneath the festive shade!
But she that, in the morning of her day,

Intomb'd beneath the grafs-green fod was laid.

No more her eyes their wonted radiance caft;
No more her breast inspir'd the lover's flame,
No more her cheek the Pæftan rose surpast;
Yet feem'd her lip's etherial fmile the fame.

Nor fuch her hair as deck'd her living face;

Nor fuch her voice as charm'd the list'ning crowd; Nor fuch her drefs as heighten'd ev'ry grace;

Alas! all vanish'd for the mournful fhroud!

VOL. I.

G

Yet

Yet feem'd her lip's etherial charm the fame;
That dear diftinction every doubt remov'd,
Perish the lover, whose imperfect flame

Forgets one feature of the nymph he lov❜d.

"DAMON, she said, mine hour allotted flies,
Oh! do not wafte it with a fruitless tear!
Tho' griev❜d to see thy SILVIA's pale disguise,
Sufpend thy forrow, and attentive hear.

So may thy mufe with virtuous fame be bleft!
So be thy love with mutual love repaid!
So may thy bones in facred filence rest,

Faft by the reliques of fome happier maid!

Thou know'ft, how ling'ring on a distant shore
Disease invidious nipt my flow'ry prime;
And oh! what pangs my tender bofom tore,
To think I ne'er muft view my native clime!

No friend was near to raise my drooping head;
No dear companion wept to fee me die;
Lodge me within my native foil, I faid;

There my fond parents honour'd reliques lie.

Tho' now debarr'd of each domestic tear;
Unknown, forgot, I meet the fatal blow;
There many a friend shall grace my woeful bier,
And many a figh fhall rife, and tear fhall flow.

I spoke,

I fpoke, nor fate forbore his trembling spoil;

Some venal mourner lent his careless aid; And foon they bore me to my native foil,

Where

my fond

parents dear remains were laid.

'Twas then the youths, from ev'ry plain and

grove,

Adorn'd with mournful verfe thy SILVIA's bier; 'Twas then the nymphs their votive garlands wove, And strew'd the fragrance of the youthful year.

But why alas! the tender scene difplay?

Cou'd DAMON's foot the pious path decline? Ah no! 'twas DAMON firft attun'd his lay, And fure no fonnet was fo dear as thine.

Thus was I bofom'd in the peaceful grave;

My placid ghost no longer wept its doom; When favage robbers every sanction brave,

And with outrageous guilt defraud the tomb!

Shall my poor corfe, from hoftile realms convey'd,
Lose the cheap portion of my native fands?

Or, in my kindred's dear embraces laid,
Mourn the vile ravage of barbarian hands?

Say, wou'd thy breast no death-like torture feel,
To fee my limbs the felon's gripe obey?

To see them gafh'd beneath the daring steel?
To crowds a spectre, and to dogs a prey?