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To-morrow, in the church to wed,
Oh, gone for ever; take this long adieu ;
And sleep in peace, next thy lov'd Montague. But know, fond maid ; and know, false man, To strew fresh laurels, let the task be mine, That Lucy will be there!
A frequent pilgrim, at thy sacred shrine ;
Mine with true sighs thy absence to bemoan, “Then bear my corse, my comrades, bear, And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone. This bridegroom blithe to meet,
If e'er from me thy lov'd memorial part,
May shame afflict this alienated heart;
Of thee forgetful if I form a song,
My grief be doubled from thy image free,
And mirth a torment, unchastis'd by thee.
Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone,
Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown, Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts ? Along the walls where speaking marbles show How were these nuptials kept ?
What worthies form the hallow'd mould below: The bridesmen Rock'd round Lucy dead, Proud names, who once the reins of empire beld; And all the village wept.
In arms who triumph'd ; or in arts exceli'd ; Confusion, shame, remorse, despair,
Chiefs, grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood; At once his bosom swell:
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedomn stood ; The damps of death bedew'd his brow, Just men, by whom impartial laws were given; He shook, he groan'd, he fell.
And saints who taught, and led, the way to heares
Ne'er to these chambers, where the mighty resi
Nor e'er.was to the bowers of bliss conveyd
In what new region, to the just assign'd,
A winged Virtue, through th' ethereal sky, One mould with her, beneath one sod, From world to world unwearied does he fly? For ever he remains.
Or curious trace the long laborious maze
Of Heaven's decrees, where wondering angels gazei oft at this grave, the constant hind
Does he delight to hear bold seraphs tell
How Michael battled, and the dragon fell;
In hymns of love, not ill essay'd below! But, swain forsworn, whve'er thou art, Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind, This hallow'd spot forbear;
A task well suited to thy gentle mind ?
Oh! if sometimes thy spotless form descend :
To me thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend !
In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart;
Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before. EARL OF WARWICK,
Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more. ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON.
That awful form, which, so the Heavens decree
Must still be lov'd and still deplor'd by me ;
Or, rousd by Fancy, meets my waking eyes
If in the stage I seek to sooth my care,
If pensive to the rural shades I rove,
"Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong, My soul's best part for ever to the grave!
Clear'd some great truth, or rais'd some serious song: How silent did his old companions tread,
There patient show'd us the wise course to steer, By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead, | A candid censor, and a friend severe; Through breathing statues, then unheeded things, There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high Through rows of warriors, and through walks of The price for knowledge) taught ris how to die. kings!
Thou Hill, whose brow the antique structures What awe did the slow solemn knell inspire ;
grace, The pealing organ, and the pausing choir; Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race, The duties by the lawn-rob'd prelate paid ; Why, once so lov'd, whene'er thy bower appears. And the last words that dust to dust convey'd ! O'er my dim eyeballs glance the sudden tears! While speechless o'er thy closing grave we bend, How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair, Accept these tears, thou dear departed friend. Thy sloping walks, and unpolluted air!
How sweet the glooms beneath thay aged trees, And oli have sallied out to pillage
Or, while their neighbors were asleep,
“What boots thy high-born host of beggars, Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade. Mac-leans, Mac-kenzies, and Mac-gregors,
From other hills, however Fortune frown'd; With popish cut-throats, perjur'd ruffians, Some refuge in the Muse's art I found:
And Foster's troop of ragamuffins ? Reluctant now I touch the trembling string,
" In vain thy lads around thee bandy, Bereft of him, who taught me how to sing ;
Inflam'd with bagpipe and with brandy.
With heart so true, and voice so rusty,
While hoarsely he demands the fight?
Dost thou not generous llay dread. And weep a second in th' unfinish'd song!
The bra vest hand, the wisest head ? These works divine, which, on his death-bed laid, Undaunted dost thou hear th' alarms To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring sage convey'd, Of hoary Athol sheath'd in arms? Great, but ill-omen'd, monument of fame,
" Douglas, who draws bis lineage down Nor he surviv'd to give, nor thou to claim.
From thanes and peers of high renown, Swift after him thy social spirit flies,
Fiery, and young, and uncontrollid, And close to his, how soon! thy coffin lies.
With knights, and squires, and barons bold,
And Monroe, kindled into rage,
He'll rout thy foot, though ne'er so many,
And horse to boot--if thou hadst any.
" But see Argyle, with watchful eyes, OF THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS.
Lodg'd in his deep intrenchments lies,
Couch'd like a lion in thy way,
While, like a herd of timorous deer,
Thy army shakes and pants with fear,
Led by their doughty general's skill,
From frith to frith, from hill to hill.
" Is thus thy baughty promise paid
That to the Chevalier was made, As Mar his round one morning took,
When thou didst oaths and duty barter, (Whoin some call earl, and some call duke), For dukedom, generalship, and garter? And his new brethren of the blade,
Three moons thy Jemmy shall command, Shivering with fear and frost, survey'd,
With Highland sceptre in his hand, On Perth's bleak hills he chanc'd to spy
Too good for his pretended birth, An aged wizard six feet high,
...Then down shall fall the king of Perth. With bristled hair and visage blighted,
"'Tis so decreed: for George shall reign Wall-ey'd, bare-haunch'd, and second-sighted. And traitors be forsworn in vain. The grisly sage in thought profound
Heaven shall for ever on him smile, Beheld the chief with back so round,
And bless him still with an Argyle. Then roll'd his eyeballs to and fro
While thou, pursu'd by vengeful foes, O'er his paternal hills of snow,
Condemn'd to barren rocks and snows, And into these tremendous speeches
And hinder'd passing Inverlocky, Broke forth the prophet without breeches.
Shall burn the clan, and curse poor Jocky'
FROM A LADY IN ENGLAND TO A GENTLEMAN I see them drest in bonnets blue
AT AVIGNON. (The spoils of thy rebellious crew); I see the target cast away,
To thee, dear rover, and thy vanquish'd friends, And chequer'd plaid become their prey,
The health, she wants, thy gentle Chloe sends. The chequer'd plaid to make a gown
Though much you suffer, think I suffer more, For many a lass in London town.
Worse than an exile on my native shore. “In vain thy hungry mountaineers
Companions in your master's flight, you roam, Come forth in all thy warlike gears,
Unenvied by your haughty foes at home; The shield, the pistol, dirk, and dagger,
For ever near the royal outlaw's side, In which they daily wont to swagger,
You share his fortunes, and his hopes divide,
On glorious schemes and thoughts of empire dwell, Nor fears the hawker in her warbling note
To vend the discontented statesman's thought.
Ere to thy cause, and thee, my heart inclind, And though he hears his darling son's complaint. Or love to party had seduc'd my mind,
Can hardly spare one tutelary saint, In female joys I took a dull delight,
But lists them all to guard his own abodes, Slept all the morn, and punted half the night: And into ready money coins his gods. But now, with fears and public cares possest, The dauntless Swede, pursued by vengeful foes, The church, the church, for ever breaks my rest. Scarce keeps his own hereditary snows; The postboy on my pillow I explore,
Nor must the friendly roof of kind Lorrain And sift the news of every foreign shore,
With feasts regale our garter'd youth again. Studious to find new friends, and new allies; Safe, Bar-le-Duc, within thy silent grove What armies march from Sweden in disguise; | The pheasant now may perch, the hare may rore. How Spain prepares her banners to unfold, | The knight, who aims unerring from afar, And Rome deals out her blessings, and her gold: Th' adventurous knight, now quits the sylran nar: Then o'er the map my finger, taught to stray, Thy brinded boars may slumber undismay'd, Cross many a region marks the winding way; Or grunt secure beneath the chestnut shade. From sea to sea, from realm to realm I rove, Inconstant Orleans (still we mouru the day And grow a mere geographer hy love :
That trusted Orleans with imperial sway) But still Avignon, and the pleasing coast
Far o'er the Alps our helpless monarch sends, That holds thee banish'd, claims my care the most : Far from the call of his desponding friends. Oft on the well-known spot I fix my eyes,
Such are the terms, to gain Britannia's grace! And span the distance that between us lies. And such the terrors of the Brunswick race!
Let not our James, though foil'd in arms, despair, Was it for this the Sun's whole lusire fail'd, Whilst on his side he reckons half the fair: And sudden midnight o'er the Moon prevaild! In Britain's lovely isle a shining throng
For this did Heaven display to mortal eyes War in his cause, a thousand beauties strong. | Aërial knights and combats in the skies! Th' unthinking victors vainly boast their powers; | Was it for this Northumbrian streams look d red! Be theirs the musket, while the tongue is ours. And Thames drivin backward show'd his secret bed We reason with such fluency and fire,
False auguries! th' insulting victor's scorn! The beaux we baffle, and the learned tire, Ev'n our own prodigies against us turn! Against her prelates plead the church's cause, O portents construed on our side in vain ! And from our judges vindicate the laws.
Let never Tory trust eclipse again! Then mourn not, hapless prince, thy kingdoms lost; Run clear, ye fountains! be at peace, ye skies! A crown, though late, thy sacred brows may boast; And, Thames, henceforth to thy green borders rise! Heaven seems through us thy empire to decree; To Rome then must the royal wanderer go, Those who win hearts, have given their hearts to thee. And fall a suppliant at the papal toe!
Hast thou not heard that when, profusely gay, His life in sloth inglorious must he wear, Our well-drest rivals grac'd their sovereign's day, One half in luxury, and one in prayer ? We stubborn damsels met the public view
His mind perhaps at length debauch d with ease, In lothesome wormwood, and repenting rue ? The proffer'd purple and the hat may please. What Whig but trembled, when our spotless band Shall he, whose ancient patriarchal race In virgin roses whiten'd half the land !
To mighty Nimrod in one line we trace,
In solemn conclave sit, devoid of thought,
Those who the succors of the fair despise, Garnet and Faux shall he with prayers in roke,
Turns almost Hanovcrian at the thought. Our sex has dar'd the mug-house chiefs to meet, From James and Rome I feel my heart decline, And purchas'd fame in many a well-fought street. And fear, O Brunswick, 'twill be wholly thine ; From Drury-Lane, the region of renown,
Yet still his share thy rival will contest, The land of love, the Paphos of the town, And still the double claim divides my breast. Fair patriots sallying oft have put to flight
The fate of James with pitying eyes I view, With all their polos the guardians of the night, And wish my homage were not Brunswick's due : And bore, with screams of triumph, to their side To James my passion and my weakness guide, The leader's staff in all its painted pride.
But reason swaye me to the victor's side.
Where Britain's foremost names are found,
Once more a son of Spencer waits, A name familiar to thy gates ; Sprung from the chief whose prowess gain'd The Garter while thy founder reign'd, He offer'd here his dinted shield, The dread of Gauls in Cressi's field, Which, in thy high-arch'd temple rais'd, For four long centuries hath blaz'd.
These seats our sires, a hardy kind, To the fierce sons of war confin'd, The flower of chivalry, who drew With sinew'd arm the stubborn yew: Or with heav'd pole-ax clear'd the field ; Or who, in joust and tourneys skill'd, Before their ladies' eyes renown'd, Threw horse and horseman to the ground.
Though griev'd I speak it, let the truth appear!
To my sad thought no beam of hope appears
To future ages propagates her charms :
O princess! happy by thy foes confest!
O thou, to whom these mournful lines I send, My promis'd husband, and my dearest friend; Since Heaven appoints this favor'd race to reign, And blood has drench'd the Scottish fields in vain ; Must I be wretched, and thy flight partake? Or wilt not thou, for thy lov'd Chloe's sake, Tir'd out at length, submit to fate's decree! If not to Brunswick, o return to me! Prostrate before the victor's mercy bend : What spares whole thousands, may to thee extend. Should blinded friends thy doubtful conduct blame, Great Brunswick's virtue shall secure thy fame : Say these invite thee to approach his throne, And own the monarch Heaven vouchsafes to own: The world, convinc'd, thy reasons will approve; Say this to them; but swear to me 'twas love.
In after-times, as courts refin'd, Our patriots in the list were join'd. Not only Warwick staind with blood, Or Marlborough near the Danube's flood, Have in their crimson crosses glow'd; But, on just lawgivers bestow'd, These emblems Cecil did invest, And gleam'd on wise Godolphin's breast
So Greece, ere arts began to rise, Fix'd huge Orion in the skies, And stern Alcides, fam'd in wars, Bespangled with a thousand stars ; Till letter'd Athens round the Pole Made gentler constellations roll; In the blue heavens the lyre she strung, And near the Maid the Balance * hung.
Then, Spencer, mount amid the band, Where knights and kings promiscuous stand. What though the hero's flame repress'd Burns calmly in thy generous breast ! Yet who more dauntless to oppose In doubtful days our home-bred foes ! Who rais'd his country's wealth so high, Or view'd with less desiring eye!
The sage, who, large of soul, surveys The globe and all its empires weighs, Watchful the various climes to guide, Which seas, and tongues, and faiths, divide, A nobler name in Windsor's shrine Shall leave, if right the Muse divine, Than sprung of old, abhorr'd and vain, From ravag'd realms and myriads slain.
Why praise we, prodigal of fame, The rage that sets the world on flame? My guiltless Muse his brow shall bind Whose godlike bounty spares mankind. For those, whom bloody garlands crown, The brass may breathe, the marble frown, To him through every rescued land, Ten thousand living trophies stand.
* Names of constellations.
JAMES HAMMOND, a popular elegiac poet, was the Elegies" were published soon after his death be second son of Anthony Hammond, Esq. of Somer- Lord Chesterfield, and have been several tica sham place, in Huntingdonshire. He was born in reprinted. It will seem extraordinary that the mom 1710, and was educated in Westminster school, ble editor has only once mentioned the name of where at an early age he obtained the friendship of Tibullus, and has asserted that Hammond, sincere several persons of distinction, among whom were in his love, as in his friendship, spoke only the Lords Cobham, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton. He genuine sentiments of his heart, when there are so was appointed equerry to Frederic, Prince of Wales, many obvious imitations of the Roman poet, erra and upon his interest was brought into parliament so far as the adoption of his names of Neera, Cynin 1741, for Truro in Cornwall. This was nearly thia, and Delia. It must, however, be acknow. .he last stage of his life, for he died in June 1742, ledged, that he copies with the hand of a master, at the seat of Lord Cobham, at Stowe. An unfor- and that his imitations are generally managed with tunate passion for a young lady, Miss Dashwood, a grace that almost conceals their character. Soll who was cold to his addresses, is thought to have as they are, in fact, poems of this class, however disordered his mind, and perhaps contributed to his skilfully transposed, we shall content ourselves with premature death.
transcribing one which introduces the name of hs Hammond was a man of an amiable character, principal patron with peculiarly happy etlect. and was much regretted by his friends. His “Love
What joy to hear the tempest howl in rain,
He imagines himself married to Delia, and that, Or, if the Sun in flaming Leo ride,
content with each other, they are retired into the By shady rivers indolently stray, country.
And with my Delia, walking side by side,
Hear how they murmur, as they glide away!