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He for her parents and her lover call'd.
The various scene imagine. How his troops
Look'd dubicus on, and wonder'd what he meant ;
While, strech'd below, the trembling suppliant lay
Rack'a by a thousand mingling passions-fear,
Hope, jealousy, disdain, submission, grief,
Anxiety and love in every shape.
To these, as different sentiments succeeded,
As mix'd emotions, when the man divine,
Thus the dread silence to the lover broke.
“We both are young-both charm’d. The right of war
Has put thy beauteous mistress in my power ;
With whom I could, in the most sacred ties,
Live out a happy life. But, know that Romans,
Their hearts, as well as enemies, can conquer ;
Then, take her to thy soul! and with her, take
Thy liberty and kingdom. In return,
I ask but this when you behold these eyes,
These charms, with transport, be a friend to Rome."
Ecstatic wonder held the lovers mute;
While the loud camp, and all the clust'ring crowd
That hung around, rang with repeated shouts ;
Fame took th' alarm, and through resounding Spain,
Blew fast the fair report ; which more than arms,
Admiring nations to the Romans gain'd.
XI-Pope's humorous Complaint to Dr. Arbuthnot, of the
Imperrinence of Scribbli rs.
SHUT, shut the door, good John-fatigu'd, I said,
To langh were want of goodness and of grace ;
And to be grave exceeds all power of face.
I sit, with sad civility ; I read,
With serious anguish and an aching head:
Then drop at last, but in unwilling ears.
This saving counse!-"Keep your piece nine years."
“Nine years!" (cries he, who, high in Drurylane,
Lull’d by soft zephyrs through the broken pane,
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before term ends,
Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends ;)
“The piece, you think is incorrect. Why, take it ;
I'm all submission, what you'd have it, make it."
Three things another's modest wishes bound-
My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.
Pitholeon sends to me" You know his Grace
I want a patron-ask him for a place."
Pitholeon libell'd me. But here's a letter
Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no bet:er."
" Bless me! a packet !—Tis a stranger sues
A virgin tragedy, an orphan muse."
If I dislike it - Furies, death and rage,'
approve, Commend it to the stage." There, thank my stars, my whole conmission endsThe players and I are luckily, no friends. Fir'd that the house rejeci him—"'Sdeath, I'll print it, And shame the fools-Your interest, Sir, with Lintot. “Lintot (dull rogue) will think your price too much;" “Not if you, Sir, revise it, and retouch." All my demurs but double his attacks ; At last he whispers, " D., and we go snacks ;" Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door"Sir, let me see you and your works no more.
There are, who to my person pay their court:
I cough like Horace, and though lean, am short:
Amnion's great son one shoulder had too high ;,
Such Ovid's nose; and,“ Sir you have an eye."
Go on, obliging creatures; make me see,
All that disgrac'd my betters, met in me.
Say, for my comfort, langjishing in bed,
Just so immortal Maro heid his head:
And when I die, besure you let me know,
Great Homer died-three thousand years ago.
XIII.- Hymn to Adversity.-GRAY.".
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour,
The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain ; :
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his dariing child, design'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birih,
And bade thee 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.
Scar'd at thy frown, terrific, fly
Selfpleasing folly's idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise and thoughtless Joy,
us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe,
By vain Prosperity receiv'd,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.
Wisdom, in sable garb array'd,
Immers’d in rapturous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend :
Warm Charity, the general friend ;
With Justice, to herself severe;
And Pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear.
Oh! gently oa thy suppliant's head,
Dread Goddess, lay thy chast’ning hand !
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band,
(As by the impious thou art seen),
With thund'ring voice and threat'ning mient,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry,
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.
Thy form benign, Oh, Goddess ! wear ;
Thy milder influence impart;
Thy philosophic train be there,
To soften, not to wound my heart.
Thy gen'rous spark, extinct, revive ;
Teach me to love and to forgive:
Exact my owu defects to scan;
What others are, to feel; and know myself a máni
XIV.-The passions An ODE-COLLINS.
WHEN Music, heavenly maid I was young
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
"Ehrong'd around her, magic cell ;
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possess'd beyond the Muse's painting.
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb’d, delighted; rais'd, refind;
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd,
From the supporting myrtles round,
They snatchi'd her instruments of sound;
And, as they oft had heard apart,
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each (for madness rul'd the hou:')
Would prove his own expressive power
First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid ;
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made. Next Anger rush'd, his eyes om fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings, In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings,
With woful measures, wan Despair
Low sullen sounds his grief beguild :
A solemn, strange and mingled air:
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wilt.
Bút thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure!
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail :
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on Echo still through all her song : :
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every
And Hope enchanted, smil'd, and way'd'her golden hair :
And longer had she sung, but with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose.
He threw his blocd staia'd sword in thunder down
And with a withering look,
The war denouncing trumpet took, ·
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe;
And ever and aoon, he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat:
And though, sometimes, each dreary pause between,
Dejected Pity at bis side,
Her soul subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain d ball of sightseeni'd bursting from his .
Thy numbers Joalousy, to nought were fix'd;
Sad proof of thy distressful state;
Of differing themes the veering, song was mix'd:
And, now it courted Love ; now, raving, call'd on Haie.
With eyes uprais'd, as one inspir’d,
Pale Melancholy sat retir'd;
And, from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes, by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul,
And dashing soft from rocks around,
Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Through glades and gloomis, the mingled measure stole, Or o'er same haunted streams with fond delay,
(Round an holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing)
In hollow murmurs died away.
But, 0, how alter'd' was its sprightlier tone!
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew
an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The bunter's call, to Fäun and Dryad known;
The ork crown'd Sisters, and their chaste ey'd Queens
Satyrs and sylvan Boys were seen,
Peeping from forth their alleys green ;-
Brown exercise rejoic'd to hear
And Sport leap d up and seiz'd his beechen spear:
Last came Joy's extatic trial,
He, with viny crown advancing,
First to the lively pipe his hand address'd
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol;
Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best.
They would have thought, who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale, her native maids,
Amidst the festal sounding sbades,
To some unwearied minstrel dancing :
While as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round,
(Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound)
And he, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thcusand odors from his dewy wipgs.