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Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid
To Cynthia's lonely haunts. To spread the toils,
May beat upon his brow, through devious paths By you, my function and my honour'd name Beckons his rapid courser. Nor when ease, Do I possess ; while o'er the Bætic vale,
Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms His eager bosom, does the queen of health By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct
Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board The English merchant: with the buxom fleece She guards, presiding; and the frugal powers Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe
With joy sedate leads in : and while the brown Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods Ennæan dame with Pan presents her stores; Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, While changing still, and comely in the change, Dispense the mineral treasure which of old
Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land The garden's banquet; you to crown his feast, Was yet unconscious of those generous arts To crown his feast, О Naiads, you the fair Which wise Phænicia from their native clime Hygeia calls: and from your shelving seats, Transplanted to a more indulgent Heaven." And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring,
Such are the words of Hermes : such the praise, To slake his veins : till soon a purer tide O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits Flows down those loaded channels; washeth off Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds And those who, sedulous in prudent works, Of crude disease ; and through the abodes of life Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays
Sends vigour, sends repose. Hail, Naiads : hail, With noble wealth, and his own seat on Earth, Who give, to labour, health; to stooping age, Fit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might The joys which youth had squander’d. Oft your Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns Not vainly to the hospitable arts
Will I invoke; and, frequent in your praise, of Hermes yield their store. For, O ye Nymphs, Abash the frantic Thyrsus with my song. Hath he not won the unconquerable queen
For not estrang'd fra
your benignant arts Of arms to court your friendship ? You she owns Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine The fair associates who extend her sway
My youth was sacred, and my votive cares Wide o'er the mighty deep ; and grateful things Belong; the learned Pæon. Oft when all Of you she uttereth, oft as from the shore
His cordial treasures he hath search'd in vain; 01 Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads
Rich with the genial influence of the Sun, To Ca pe's foaming channel, or the rough
(To rouse dark Fancy from her plaintive dreams, Cantabriin surge ; her auspices divine
To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win Imparting to the senate and the prince
Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast Of Albion to dismay barbaric kings,
Which pines with silent passion,) he in vain The Iberiat, or the Celt. The pride of kings Hath prov'd; to your deep mansions he descends, Was ever scorn'd by Pallas: and of old
Your gates of humid rock, your dim arcades, Rejoic'd the virgin, from the brazen prow
He entereth ; where empurpled veins of ore of Athens o'er Ægina's gloomy surge,
Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god The Persian's promis'd glory, when the realms From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime,
Wafts to his pale-ey'd suppliants; wafts the seeds When Libya's torrid champain and the rocks Metallic, and the elemental salts
(soon Of cold Imaüs join'd their servile bands,
Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink : and To sweep the sons of Liberty from Earth.
Flies pain; Aies inauspicious care : and soon In vain : Minerva on the bounding prow
The social haunt or unfrequented shade Of Athens stood, and with the thunder's voice Hears Io, Io Pæan; as of old, Denounc'd her terrours on their impious heads, When Python fell. And, O propitious Nymphs, And shook her burning ægis. Xerxes saw: Oft as for helpless mortals I implore From Heracleum, on the mountain's height Your salutary springs, through every urn Thron'd in his golden car, he knew the sign Oh shed your healing treasures. With the first Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake
And finest breath, which from the genial strife His faultering heart, and turn'd his face with shame. Of mineral fermentation springs like light
Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power ; O'er the fresh morning's vapours, lustrate then Who arm the hand of Liberty for war :
The fountain, and inform the rising wave. And give to the renown's Britannic name
My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye To awe contending monarchs : yet benign, That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand Yet mild of nature ; to the works of peace
Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes More prone, and lenient of the many ills
Not unregarded of celestial powers,
I frame their language ; and the Muses deign Of young Lyæus, and the dread exploits,
May sing in aptest numbers : be the fate
Of sober Pentheus, he the Paphian rites, In early days did to my wondering sense
And naked Mars with Cytherea chain’d, Their secrets oft reveal : oft my rais'd ear
And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, In slumber felt their music : oft at noon,
May celebrate, applauded. But with you, Or hour of sunset, by some lonely stream,
O Naiads, far from that unballow'd rout, In field or shady grove, they taught me words Must dwell the man whoe'er to praised themes Of power, from death and envy to preserve
Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful | To your calm habitations, to the cave mind,
Corycian, or the Delphic mount, will guide And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye,
His footsteps ; and with your unsullied streams My vows I send, my homage, to the seats
His lips will bathe: whether the eternal lore
In those unfading islands of the blessid,
Thrice hail. For you the Cyrenaïc shell To their consorted measure: till again,
Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs With emulation all the sounding choir,
Be present ye with favourable feet,
And all profaner audience far remove.
TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP
For toils which patriots have endur'd,
For treason quell'd and laws secur'd,
Envy may rail; and Faction fierce
May strive; but what, alas! can those Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er
(Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes) He loves not, o'er the peopled earth, and o'er
To gratitude and love oppose,
To faithful story and persuasive verse!
O nurse of Freedom, Albion, say,
Thou tamer of despotic sway, Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves
What man, among thy sons around, Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive
Thus heir to glory hast thou found ? To drown the heavenly strains; of highest Jove What page in all thy annals bright, Irreverent, and by mad presumption fir'd
Hast thou with purer joy survey'd Their own discordant raptures to advance
Than that where Truth, by Hoadly's aid, With hostile emulation. Down they rush
Shines through Imposture's solemn shade, Froin Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd
To him the Teacher bless'd, Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild Who sent Religion, from the palmy field Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air
By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch
And lifted up the veil which Heaven from Earth Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's
conceald, Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix’d To Hoadly thus his mandate he addressid: With shrieks and frantic uproar. ay the gods “ Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law From every unpolluted ear avert
From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure: Their orgies ! if within the seats of men,
Let not my peaceful name be made a lure Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds Fell Persecution's mortal snares to aid: The guardian key, if haply there be found
Let not my words be impious chains to draw Who loves to mingle with the revel-band
The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe, And hearken to their accents; who aspires
To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid." From such instructors to inform his breast With verse ; let him, fit votarist, implore Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts
III. No cold or unperforming hand
But where shall recompense be found ? Was arm'd by Heaven with this command.
Or how such arduous merit crown'd? The world soon felt it : and, on high,
For look on life's laborious scene; To William's ear with welcome joy
What rugged spaces lie between Did Locke among the blest unfold
Adventurous Virtue's early toils The rising hope of Hoadly's name,
And her triumphal throne! The shade Godolphin then confirm'd the fame;
Of Death, meantime, does oft invade And Somers, when from Earth he care,
Her progress ; nor, to us display'd, And generous Stanhope the fair sequel told. Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils. Then drew the lawgivers around,
Yet born to conquer is her power : (Sires of the Grecian name renown'd,)
O Hoadly, if that favourite hour And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, On Earth arrive, with thankful awe What private force could thus subdue
We own just Heaven's indulgent law. The vulgar and the great combin’d;
And proudly thy success behold; Could war with sacred Folly wage ;
We attend thy reverend length of days Could a whole nation disengage
With benediction and with praise, From the dread bonds of many an age,
And hail thee in our public ways And to new habits mould the public mind. Like some great spirit fam'd in ages
old. For not a conqueror's sword,
While thus our vows prolong Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, Thy steps on Earth, and when by us resign'd
Were his : but truth by faithful search explor'd, Thou join'st thy seniors, that heroic throng And social sense, like seed, in genial plenty sown. Who rescued or preserv'd the rights of human kind, Wherever it took root, the soul (restor'd
O! not unworthy may thy Albion's tongue To freedom) freedom too for others sought. Thee still, her friend and benefactor, name: Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine, 0! never, Hoadly, in thy country's eyes, Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine,
May impious gold, or pleasure's gaudy prize, Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage; Make public virtue, public freedom, vile; Not the wild rabble to sedition wrought,
Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim Nor synods by the papal genius taught,
That heritage, our noblest wealth and fame, Nor St. John's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. Which thou hast kept entire from force and factious
HOMAS Gray, a distinguished poet, was the son laureat, vacant by the death of Cibber, was offered of a money-scrivener in London, where he was to Gray, but declined by him. In the same year le born in 1716. He received his education at Eton- published two odes, “ On the Progress of Poess," school, whence he was sent to the university of and “ The Bard,” which were not so popular as his Cambridge, and entered as a pensioner at St. Pe- Elegy had been, chiefly, perhaps, because they were ter's College. He left Cambridge in 1738, and less understood. The uniform life passed by this occupied a set of chambers in the Inner Temple, eminent person admits of few details, but the trans for the purpose of studying the law. From this action respecting the professorship of modern history intention he was diverted by an invitation to accom- at Cambridge, a place worth four hundred pounds pany Mr. Horace Walpole, son of the celebrated a year, is worthy of some notice. When the sito. statesman, with whom he had made a connection at ation became vacant in Lord Bute's administration, Eton, in a tour through Europe. Some disagree- it was modestly asked for by Gray, but had already ment, of which Mr. Walpole generously took the been bespoken by another.
On a second vacancy blame, caused them to separate in Italy ; and Gray in 1768, the Duke of Grafton being now in power, returned to England in September, 1741, two months it was, “unsolicited and unsuspected," conferred before his father's death. Gray, who now depended upon him ; in return for which he wrote his “Ode chiefly upon his mother and aunt, left the law, and for Music,” for the installation of that nobleman as returned to his retirement at Cambridge. In the chancellor of the university. This professorship, next year he had the misfortune to lose his dear though founded in 1724, had hitherto remained a friend West, also an Eton scholar, and son to the perfect sinecure; but Gray prepared himself to Chancellor of Ireland, which left a vacancy in his execute the duties of his office. Such, however, affections, that seems never to have been supplied. were the baneful effects of habitual indolence, that, From this time his residence was chiefly at Cam- with a mind replete with ancient and modern know. bridge, to which he was probably attached by an in- ledge, he found himself unable to proceed farther satiable love of books, which he was unable to gra- than to draw a plan for his inauguration speech tify from his own stores. Some years passed in this But his health was now declining; an irregular favourite indulgence, in which his exquisite learning hereditary gout made more frequent attacks than and poetic talents were only known to a few friends; formerly; and at length, while he was dining in the and it was not till 1747, that his “ Ode on a distant College-ball, he was seized with a complaint in the Prospect of Eton College" made its appearance stomach, which carried him off on July 30. 1771, in before the public. It was in 1751 that his cele- the fifty-fifth year of his age. His remains were brated “Elegy written in a Country Church-yard,” | deposited, with those of his mother and aunt, in the chiefly composed some years before, and even now church-yard of Stoke-Pogis, Buckinghamshire. sent into the world without the author's name, made It is exclusively as a poet that we record the its way to the press. Few poems were ever so po- name of Gray; and it will, perhaps, be thought pular : it soon ran through eleven editions; was that we borrow too large a share from a single small translated into Latin verse, and has ever since borne volume; yet this should be considered as indicative the marks of being one of the most favourite pro- of the high rank which he has attained, compared ductions of the British Muse.
with the number of his compositions. With respect In the manners of Gray there was a degree of to his character as a man of learning, since his wceffeminacy and fastidiousness which exposed him to quisitions were entirely for his own use, and pro the character of a fribble ; and a few riotous young duced no fruits for the public, it has no claim to men of fortune in his college thought proper to particular notice. For though he has been called make him a subject for their boisterous tricks. He by one of his admirers “ perhaps the most learned made remonstrances to the heads of the society man in Europe," never was learning more thrown upon this usage, which being treated, as he thought, away. A few pieces of Latin poetry are all that be without due attention, he removed in 1756 to Pem- has to produce. broke-hall. In the next year, the office of poet
HYMN TO ADVERSITY.
WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Æschylus, in Agamemnone. DAUGHTER
AUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
The bad affright, afflict the best !
Virtue, his darling child, design'd,
And bade to form her infant mind. Stern rugged nurse; thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore : What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
The moping owl does to the Moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-hreathing Morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care : No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team a-field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor.
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Immers'd in rapturous thought profound,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!
Nor circled with the vengeful band,
Thy milder influence impart,
To soften, not to wound, my heart. The generous spark extinct revive, Teach me to love and to forgive, Exact iny own defects to scan, What others are, to feel, and know myself a man.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long drawn aisle and fretted vault,
The peeling anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death ?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.