There hateful envy her own fnakes fhall feel,
And perfecution mourn her broken wheel:
There faction roar, rebellion bite her chain,
And gafping furies thirst for blood in vain."
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays
Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days :-
The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,
And bring the fcenes of op'ning fate to light:
My humble mufe, in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains,
Where Peace descending bids her olives spring,
And scatters bleffings from her dove-like wing.
E'en I more sweetly pafs my careless days,
Pleas'd in the filent fhade with empty praise ;
Enough for me, that to the lift'ning fwains
First in these fields I fung the fylvan ftrains.

420

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430

Thy eye beheld in open view

The yet unfinish'd plan;

The shadowy lines thy pencil drew,

And form'd the future man.

O may this frame, that rifing grew
Beneath thy plaftick hands,
Be ftudious ever to pursue

Whate'er thy will commands !

The foul that moves this earthly load,
Thy femblance let it bear,

Nor lose the traces of the God

That ftamp'd his image there!

THE PLEASURES OF CONTEMPLATION.

BY MRS. DARWAL, FORMERLY MISS WHATLEY.

Q

UEEN of the halcyon breaft, and heaven-ward eye,

Sweet Contemplation, with thy ray benign

Light my lone paffage thro' this vale of life,
And raise the fiege of Care! This filent hour
To thee is facred, when the star of eve,
Like Dian's virgins trembling ere they bathe,
Shoots o'er the Hefperian wave it's quivering ray.
All nature joins to fill my labouring breast
With high fenfations: aweful filence reigns
Above, around; the founding winds no more
Wild thro' the fluctuating foreft fly

With guft impetuous; Zephyr scarcely breathes
Upon the trembling foliage; flocks and herds,
Retir'd beneath the friendly shade repose,
Fann'd by oblivion's wing. Ha! is not this,

This the dread hour, as ancient fables tell,
When flitting fpirits, from their prifons broke,
By moon-light glide along the dusky vales,
The folemn church-yard, or the dreary grove;
Fond to revifit their once-lov'd abodes,
And view each friendly fcene of past delight!

Satyrs, and fawns, that in fequefter'd woods
And deep-embowering fhades delight to dwell;
Quitting their caves, where in the reign of day
They fleep in filence, o'er the daified green
Pursue their gambols, and with printless feet
Chase the fleet shadows o'er the waving plains.
Dryads, and Naiads, from each spring and grove,
Trip blithfome o'er the lawns; or, near the fide
Of moffy fountains, fport in Cynthia's beams.
The fairy elves, attendant on their queen,
With light steps bound along the velvet mead,
And leave the green impreffion of their dance
In rings myfterious to the paffing fwain;
While the pellucid glow-worm kindly lends
Her filver lamp to light the festive scene.

From yon majestick pile, in ruin great,
Whofe lofty towers once on approaching foes
Look'd stern defiance, the fad bird of night,
In mournful accent, to the moon complains:
Those towers with venerable ivy crown'd,
And mouldering into ruin, yield no more
A fafe retirement to the hostile bands ;
But there the lonely bat, that fhuns the day,
Dwells in dull folitude; and fcreaming thence
Wheels the night raven fhrill, with hideous note
Portending death to the dejected fwain.

Each plant and flow'ret bath'd in evening dews,
Exhale refreshing fweets: from the fmooth lake,
On whose still bofom fleeps the tall tree's shade,
The moon's foft rays reflected mildly shine.

Now

Now towering Fancy takes her airy flight
Without reftraint, and leaves this earth behind;
From pole to pole, from world to world fhe flies;
Rocks, feas, nor fkies, can interrupt her course.

Is this what men, to thought eftrang'd, mifcal
Defpondence? this dull melancholy's scene?
To trace the Eternal Cause thro' all his works,
Minutely and magnificently wife?

Mark the gradations which thro' Nature's plan
Join each to each, and form the vast defign?
And tho' day's glorious guide withdraws his beams
Impartial, chearing other skies and fhores;
Rich intellect, that fcorns corporeal bands,
With more than mid-day radiance gilds the scene:
The mind, now refcu'd from the cares of day,
Roves unrestrain'd thro' the wide realms of space;
Where (thought ftupendous!) fyftems infinite,
In regular confufion taught to move,
Like gems bespangle yon etherial plains!

Ye fons of pleasure, and ye foes to thought,
Who fearch for blifs in the capacious bowl,
And blindly woo intemperance for joy ;
Durst ye retire, hold converse with yourselves,
And in the filent hours of darkness court
Kind Contemplation with her peaceful train ;
How would the minutes dance on downy feet,
And unperceiv'd the midnight taper waste,
While intellectual pleasure reign'd fupreme !
Ye mufes, graces, virtues, heaven-born maids!
Who love in peaceful folitude to dwell
With meek-ey'd innocence, and radiant truth,
And blushing modefty; that frighted fly
The dark intrigue, and midnight masquerade;
What is this pleasure which enchants mankind?
Tis noife, 'tis toil, 'tis frenzy; like the cup

Of Circé, fam'd of old; who taftes it finds
Th' etherial spark divine to brute transform'd.
And now, methinks, I hear the libertine
With fupercilious leer cry, Preach no more
Your musty morals; hence, to desarts fly,
And in the gloom of folitary caves

Aufterely dwell: what's life, debarr'd from joy?
Crown, then, the bowl; let Mufick lend her aid,
And Beauty her's, to foothe my wayward cares.'
Ah! little does he know the nymph he styles
A foe to pleasure; pleasure is not more
His aim than her's; with him fhe joins to blame
The hermit's gloom, and favage penances;
Each focial joy approves. Oh! without thee,
Fair Friendship, life were nothing; without thee,
The page of fancy would no longer charm,
And folitude difguft e'en penfive minds.

Nought I condemn, but that excefs which clouds
The mental faculties, to foothe the fenfe :
Let Reafon, Truth, and Virtue, guide thy fteps,
And every bleffing Heav'n beftows, be thine!

VERSES

ADDRESSED ΤΟ

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS GEORGE PRINCE OF WALES

W

BY MR. J. MACAULAY.

HILE gen'ral plaudits of deferv'd renown

(The hero's glory, and the patriot's crown)

Proclaim the day to British virtue dear,

And hail the produce of an added year;

*Thefe Verfes were préfented at Windfor to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, on the morning of his late birth-day, August 12. 1780, when he entered his nineteenth year.