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· Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send ; Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend.

Ye Georgian swains that piteous learn from far
Circassia's ruin, and the walle of war ;
Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare,
To shield your harvests, and defend your

fair :
The Turk and Tartar like designs pursue,
Fix'd to destroy, and Atedfast to undo.
Wild as his land, in native deserts bred,
By luft incited, or by malice led,
The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey,
Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way;
Yet none so cruel as the Tartar foe,
To death irur'd, and nurs'd in scenes of woe.

He said ; when loud along the vale was heard A Thriller (hriek, and nearer fires appear'd : Th' affrighted shepherds thro' the dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight.

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To the Right Honourable




HILE you, my lord, the rural shades admire,

And from Britannia's public posts retire,
Nor longer, her ungrateful fons to please,
For their advantage facrifice your ease;
Me into foreign realms my fate conveys,
Through nations fruitful of immortal lays,
Where the soft feason and inviting clime
Conspire to trouble your repose with rhime.
For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,
Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise,
Poetic fields encompass me around,
And still I seem to tread on classic ground;
For here the muse so oft her harp has ftrung,
That not a mountain rears its head unsung,
Renown'd in verse each fhady thicket grows,
And ev'ry stream in heav'nly numbers flows.


How am I pleas'd to search the hills and woods For rising springs and celebrated floods ! To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course, And trace the smooth Clitumnus to his source, To see the Mincio draw his watry store Through the long windings of a fruitful shore, And hoary Albula's infected tide O'er the warm bed of smoking fulphur glide.

Fir'd with a thousand raptures I survey Eridanus through flow'ry meadows stray, The king of floods ! that rolling o'er the plains The tow'ring Alps of half their moisture drains, And proudly swoln with a whole winter's snows, Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows.

Sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throrg,
I look for streams immortaliz'd in song,
That loft in filence and oblivion lie,
(Dumb are their fountains and their channels dry)
Yet run for ever by the muse's skill,
And in the smooth description murmur still.

Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire,
And the fam'd river's empty shores admire,
That deftitute of strength derives its course
From thrifty urns and an unfruitful source ;
Yet sung so often in poetic lays,
With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys;

So high the deathless muse exalts her theme !
Such was the Boyn, a poor inglorious fiream,
That in Hibernian vales obscurely ftray'd,
And unobserv'd in wild Meanders play'd;
'Till by your lines and Nassau's sword renown'd,
Its rising billows through the world resound,
Where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce,
Or where the fame of an iminortal verse.

Oh cou'd the muse ravilh'd my breast inspire
With warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire,
Unnumber'd beauties in my verse shou'd fine,
And Virgil's Italy should yield to mine!

See how the golden groves around me smile,
That shun the coast of Britain's stormy ille,
Or when transplanted and preserv'd with care,
Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air.
Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments
To nobler tastes, and more exalted scents :
Ev’n the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
And trodden weeds send out a rich perfume.
Bear me, some God, to Baia's gentle seats,
Or cover me in Umbria's

green retreats;
Where weftern gales eternally reside,
And all the seasons lavish all their pride:
Blofsoms, and fruits, and flowers together rise,
And the whole year in gay confusion lies.


Immortal glories in my mind revive, And in my soul a thousand passions strive, When Rome's exalted beauties I descry Magnificent in piles of ruin lie. An amphitheatre's amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight, That on its publick shows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb: Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies : And here the proud triumphal arches rise, Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd, Their base degenerate progeny upbraid: Whole rivers here forsake the fields below, And wond'ring at their height thro' airy channels flow.

Still to new scenes my wand'ring muse retires, And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires ; Where the fmooth chissel all its force has shown, And soften'd into flesh the rugged stone. In folemn silence, a majestic band, Heroes, and Gods, and Roman consuls stand, Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, And emperors in Parian marble frown; While the bright dames, to whom they humbly fu'd, Still show the charms that their proud hearts fubdud,

Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And how th' immortal labours in my verse, 5


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