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Vir'd gore and cider flow. What shall we say Rejoice, 0 Albion ! sever'd from the world
By Nature's wise indulgence, indigent
Entirely blest ; and from beginning time
With ruinous assault; on every plain
Host cop'd with host, dire was the din of war, Fries the scorch'd soil, and dropsy all a-float, And ceaseless, or short truce haply procur'd Yet craving liquids : nor the Centaurs tale
By havoc, and dismay, till jealousy Be bere repeated; how, with lust and wine Rais'd new combustion. Thus was peace in rain Inflam'd, they fought, and split their drunken souls Sought for by martial deeds, and conflict stern : At feasting hour. Ye beavenly Powers, that guard Till Edgar grateful (as to those who pine The British isles, such dire events remove
A dismal half-year night, the orient beam Far from fair Albion, nor let civil broils
Of Phæbus' lamp) arose, and into one Ferment from social cups : may we, remote
Cemented all the long-contending powers,
Pacific monarch; then her lovely head
The spirit of love.
the bards new strung Too oft, alas! has mutual hatred drench'd
Their silent harps, and taught the woods and vales, Our swords in native blood; too oft has pride, In uncouth rhymes, to echo Edgar's name. And hellish discord, and insatiate thirst
Then gladness smil'd in every eye; the years
Ran smoothly on, productive of a line
See lion-hearted Richard, with his force
Drawn from the North, to Jewry’s hallow'd plains ! Compton, and Granville, dauntless sons of Mars, Piously valiant (like a torrent swellid Fit themes of endless grief, but that we view With wintry tempests, that disdains all mounds, Their virtues yet surviving in their race !
Breaking a way impetuous, and involves Can we forget, how the mad, headstrong rout Within its sweep, trees, houses, men) he press'd Defy'd their prince to arms, nor made account Amidst the thickest battle, and o'erthrew Of faith or duty, or allegiance sworn ?
Whate'er withstood his zealous rage : no pause, Apostate, atheist rebels ! bent to ill,
No stay of slaughter, found his vigorous arm, With seeming sanctity, and cover'd fraud,
But th' unbelieving squadrons turn’d to flight, Instill'd by him, who first presum'd t' oppose Smote in the rear, and with dishonest wounds Omnipotence; alike their crime, th' event
Mangled behind. The Soldan, as he fled, Was not alike; these triumph'd, and in height Oft callid on Alla, gnashing with despite, Of barbarous malice, and insulting pride,
And shame, and murmur'd many an empty curse. Abstain'd not from imperial blood. O fact
Behold third Edward's streamers blazing high Unparallel'd! O Charles, O best of kings ! On Gallia's hostile ground! his right withheld, What stars their black disastrous influence shed
O imprudent Gauls, On try nativity, that thou should'st fall
Relying on false hopes, thus to incer.se Thus, by inglorious hands, in this thy realm, The warlike English! One important day Supreme and innocent, adjudg'd to death
Shall teach you meaner thoughts. Eager of fight, By those thy mercy only would have sav'd!
Fierce Brutus' offspring to the adverse front Yet was the Cider-land unstain'd with guilt; Advance resistless, and their deep array The Cider-land, obsequious still to thrones, With furious inroad pierce : the mighty force Abhorr'd such base disloyal deeds, and all
Of Edward twice o'erturn'd their desperate king; Her pruning-hooks extended into swords,
Twice he arose, and join'd the horrid shock : Undaunted, to assert the trampled rights
The third time, with his wide-extended wings, Of monarchy: but, ah! successless she,
He fugitive declin'd superior strength, However faithful! then was no regard
Discomfited; pursued, in the sad chase Of right, or wrong. And this once happy land, Ten thousand ignominious fall; with blood By honebred fury rent, long groan'd beneath The vallies float. Great Edward thus aveng'd, Tyrannie sway, till fair revolving years
With golden Iris his broad shield emboss'd. Our exil'd kings and liberty restor'd.
Thrice glorious prince! whom Fame with all her Now we exult, by mighty Anna's carc
tongues Secare at home, while she to foreign realms
For ever shall resound. Yet from his loins Sends forth her dreadful legions, and restrains New authors of dissension spring : from him The rage of kings: here, nohly she supports Two branches, that in hosting long contend Justice oppress'd; here, her victorious arms For sov'reign sway; and can such anger dwell Quell the ambitious: from her hand alone
In noblest minds? But little now avail'd All Europe fears revenge, or hopes redress. The ties of friendship; every man, as led
By inclination, or vain hope, repair'd
Peculiar ends, on each side resolute
Now horrid Slaughter reigns : Nor the sweet prospect of a mutual gain,
Could aught avail, till prudent Anna said, Careless of duty, and their native grounds
Let there be union : strait with reverence due Distain with kindred blood; the twanging bows To her command, they willingly unite, Send showers of shafts, that on their barbed points One in affection, laws and government, Alternate ruin bear. Here might you see Indissolubly firm; from Dubris south, Barons, and peasants on th' embattled field To northern Orcades, her long domain. Slain, or half-dead, in one huge, ghastly heap
And now, thus leagued by an eternal bond, Promiscuously amass'd. With dismal groans,
What shall retard the Britons' bold designs,
Or who sustain their force, in union knit,
Already tremble, and th' unbaptis'd Turk
Dreads war from utmost Thule. Uncontroll'd This long, pernicious fray? what man has Fate The British navy through the ocean vast Reserv'd for this great work ? - Hail, happy prince Shall wave her double cross, t'extremest climes Of Tudor's race, whom in the womb of Time Terrific, and return with odorous spoils Cadwallador foresaw ! thou, thou art he,
Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' wealth, Great Richmond Henry, that by nuptial rites Pearl, and barbaric gold: meanwhile the swains Must close the gates of Janus, and remove
Shall unmolested reap what Plenty strows Destructive Discord. Now no more the drum From well-stor’d horn, rich grain, and timely fruits, Provokes to arms, or trumpet's clangour shrill The elder year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck Affrights the wives, or chills the virgin's blood; With ruby-tinctur'd births, whose liquid store But joy and pleasure open to the view
Abundant, flowing in well-blended streams, Uninterrupted! with presaging skill
The native shall applaud; while glad they talk Thou to thy own unitest Fergus' line
Of baleful ills, caus'd by Bellona's wrath
Diffusive, to the utmost bounds of this
Shall please all tastes, and triumph o'er the vine. In laws and interest diverse, still pursued
THOMAS PABNELL, an agreeable poet, was de- don pulpits, with the intention of rising to notice ; but sænded from an ancient family in Cheshire. His the change of the ministry at Queen Anne's death father, who was attached to the cause of the Par- put an end to his more brilliant prospects in the liament in the civil wars of Charles I., withdrew to church. By means, however, of Swift's recomIreland after the Restoration, where he purchased mendation to Archbishop King, he obtained a prean estate. His eldest son, Thomas, was born at bend, and the valuable living of Finglass. Dublin, in 1679, and received his school edu- His domestic happiness received a severe shock cation in that city. At an early age he was re- in 1712, by the death of his beloved wife; and it moved to the college, where he was admitted to was the effect on his spirits of this affliction which the degree of M. A. in 1700, took deacon's orders led him into such a habit of intemperance in wine in the same year, and was ordained priest three as shortened his days. This, at least, is the gloss years afterwards. In 1705 he was presented to the put upon the circumstance by his historian, Goldarchdeaconry of Clogher, and about the same time smith, who represents him, “as in some measure a married a lady of great beauty and merit. He martyr to conjugal fidelity.” But it can scarcely nox began to make those frequent excursions to be doubted, that this mode of life had already been England, in which the most desirable part of his formed when his very unequal spirits had required life was thenceforth spent. His first connections the aid of a glass for his support. He died at were principally with the Whigs, at that time in Chester, on his way to Ireland, in July 1717, in power; and Addison, Congreve, and Steele are the thirty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in named among his chief companions. When, at the Trinity Church, in that city. latter part of Queen Anne's reign, the Tories were Parnell was the author of several pieces, both in triumphant, Parnell deserted his former friends, prose and verse; but it is only by the latter that he and associated with Swift, Pope, Gay, and Ar- is now known. Of these a collection was published buthnot. Swift introduced him to Lord - Treasurer by Pope, with a dedication to the Earl of Oxford. Harley; and, with the dictatorial air which he was Their characters are ease, sprightliness, fancy, fond of assuming, insisted upon the Treasurer's clearness of language, and melody of versification ; going with his staff in his hand into the anti- and though not ranking among the most finished camber, where Parnell was waiting to welcome productions of the British muse, they claim a place him. It is said of this poet, that every year, as soon among the most pleasing. A large addition to as he had collected the rents of his estate, and the these was made in a work printed in Dublin, in tevenue of his benefices, he came over to England, 1758, of which Dr. Johnson says, “I know not and spent some months, living in an elegant style, whence they came, nor have ever enquired whither and rather impairing than improving his fortune. they are going." At this time he was an assiduous preacher in the Lon
Edwin, if right I read my song, With slighted passion pac'd along
All in the moony light; 'Twas near an old enchanted court, Where sportive fairies made resort
To revel out the night.
The dauncing past, the board was laid,
As heart and lip desire,
And with a wish retire..
But, now to please the fairy king, Full every deal they laugh and sing,
And antic feats devise ; Some wind and tumble like an ape, And other some transmute their shape
In Edwin's wondering eyes.
His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, 'Twas late, 'twas far, the path was lost
That reach'd the neighbour-town;
And drops his limbs adown.
And trembling rocks the ground :
On all the walls around.
Till one at last, that Robin hight, Renown'd for pinching maids by night,
Has bent him up aloof : And full against the beam he flung, Where by the back the youth he hung
To spraul unneath the roof.
Now sounding tongues assail his ear, Now sounding feet approached near,
And now the sounds increase : And from the corner where he lay He sees a train profusely gay,
Come prankling o'er the place. But (trust me, gentles !) never yet Was dight a masquing half so neat,
Or half so rich before ; The country lent the sweet perfumes, The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes,
The town its silken store.
From thence, “ Reverse my charm,” he cries, “ And let it fairly now suffice
The gambol has been shown." But Oberon answers with a smile, “ Content thee, Edwin, for a while,
The vantage is thine own."
And heard a cock to crow;
To warn them all to go.
Poor Edwin falls to floor;
Through all the land before.
He feels his back the less;
Which made him want success.
Now whilst he gaz'd, a gallant drest In flaunting robes above the rest,
With awful accent cry'd ; What mortal of a wretched mind, Whose sighs infect the balmy wind,
Has here presum'd to hide ?
At this the swain, whose venturous soul No fears of magic art control,
Advanc'd in open sight; “ Nor have I cause of dreed," he said, “ Who view, by no presumption led,
Your revels of the night. “ 'Twas grief, for scorn of faithful love, Which made my steps unweeting rove
Amid the nightly dew.” “ 'Tis well,” the gallant cries again, “ We fairies never injure men
Who dare to tell us true.
With lusty livelyhed he talks,
His story soon took wind;
Without a bunch behind.
“ Exalt thy love-dejected heart, Be mine the task, or ere we part,
To make thee grief resign; Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce; Whilst I with Mab, my partner, daunce,
Be little Mable thine."
The story told, sir Topaz mov'd, The youth of Edith erst approv'd,
To see the revel scene : At close of eve he leaves his home, And wends to find the ruin'd dome
All on the gloomy plain.
He spoke, and all a sudden there Light music floats in wanton air ;
The monarch leads the queen : The rest their fairy partners found : And Mable trimly tript the ground
With Edwin of the Green.
As there he bides, it so befell,
A shaking seiz'd the wall;
And music fills the hall.
But certes sorely sunk with woe
A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH. Sir Topaz sees the elphin show, His spirits in him dye :
Br the blue taper's trembling light, When Oberon cries, “ A man is near,
No more I waste thr wakeful night,
Intent with endless view to pore
The schoolmen and the sages o'er :
Their books from wisdom widely stray, With that sir Topaz, hapless youth !
Or point at best the longest way
I'll seek a readier path, and go
Where wisdom 's surely taught below.
How deep yon azure dyes the sky!
Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie,
While through their ranks in silver pride
The nether crescent seems to glide. " Ah, losel vile," at once they roar :
The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe, “ And little skill'd of fairie lore,
The lake is smooth and clear beneath, Thy cause to come, we know :
Where once again the spangled show Now has thy kestrel courage fell ;
Descends to meet our eyes below. And fairies, since a lye you tell,
The grounds, which on the right aspire, Are free to work thee woe."
In dimness from the view retire :
The left presents a place of graves, Then Will, who bears the whispy fire
Whose wall the silent water laves. To trail the swains among the mire,
That steeple guides thy doubtful sight The caitiff upward flung;
Among the livid gleams of night. There, like a tortoise, in a shop
There pass with melancholy state He dangled from the chamber-top,
By all the solemn heaps of Fate, Where whilome Edwin hung.
And think, as softly-sad you tread
Above the venerable dead, The revel now proceeds apace,
Time was, like thee, they life possest,
And time shall be, that thou shalt rest.
Those with bending osier bound,
That nameless heave the crumbled ground, And poor sir Topaz hangs the while
Quick to the glancing thought disclose, Till all the rout retreat.
Where toil and poverty repose.
The flat smooth stones that bear a name, By this the stars began to wink,
The chisel's slender help to fame, They shriek, they fly, the tapers sink,
(Which ere our set of friends decay And down y-drops the knight :
Their frequent steps may wear away) For never spell by fairie laid
A middle race of mortals own, With strong enchantment bound a glade, Men, half ambitious, all unknown. Beyond the length of night.
The marble tombs that rise on high,
Whose dead in vaulted arches lie, Chill, dark, alone, adreed, he lay,
Whose pillars swell with sculptur'd stones, Till up the welkin rose the day,
Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones, Then deem'd the dole was o'er ;
These, all the poor remains of state, But wot ye well his harder lot ?
Adorn the rich, or praise the great ; His seely back the bunch had got
Who, while on Earth in fame they live, Which Edwin lost afore.
Are senseless of the fame they give.
Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, This tale a Sybil-nurse ared;
The bursting earth unveils the shades! She softly stroak'd my youngling head,
All slow, and wan, and wrap'd with shrouds, And when the tale was done,
They rise in visionary crowds, “ Thus some are born, my son,” she cries, And all with sober accent cry, # With base impediments to rise,
“ Think, mortal, what it is to die." And some are born with none.
Now from yon black and funeral yew,
That bathes the charnel-house with dew, * But virtue can itself advance
Methinks, I hear a voice begin; To what the favourite fools of chance
(Ye ravens, cease your croaking din, By fortune seem design'd;
Ye tolling clocks, no time resound Virtue can gain the odds of Fate,
O'er the long lake and midnight ground !) And from itself shake off the weight
It sends a peal of hollow groans, Upon th' unworthy mind."
Thus speaking from among the bones.
“ When men my scythe and darts supply,