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Somervile., A languid fcent. And now in open views

See, fee! Che Aies; each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and stretches ev'ry nerve.
How quick i he turns, their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives, till round enclos'd
By all the greedy pack, with infant screams
She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies!
So when the furious Bacchanals affail'd
Threician Orpheus, poor ill-fated Bard!
Loud was the cry; hills, woods, and Hebrus

Return'd their clam'rous rage: distress'd he flies,
Shifting from place to place; but Aies in vain.
For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,
By noisy multitudes o'erpow'rd, he sinks
To the relentless croud a bleeding prey!

The huntsman now, a deep incifion made,
Shakes out with hands impure, and daf hes down
Her reeking entrails, and yet quiv’ring heart.
These claim the pack, the bloody perquisite
For all their toils. Stretch'd on the ground she

A mangled corse, in her dim-glaring eyes
Cold Death exults, and stiffens ev'ry limb.
Aw'd by the threat’ning whip, the furious hounds
Around her bay, or at their master's foot
Each happy fav’rite courts his kind applause,
With humble adoration cow'ring low.
All now is joy. With cheeks fullblown they wind
Her folemn dirge, while the loud - op'ning pack
The concert swell, and hills and dales return
The fadly-pleasing founds. Thus the poor hare,
A puny daftard animal! but vers'd
In subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train,


G r a inger.


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Dr. James Grainger, ein, vermuthlich noch lebens der, englischer Arzt, ift Verfaffer eines Gedichts in vier Bus chern: The Sugar Cane, das Zuerrohr, aberschrieben. Das erste Buch handelt von dessen Anbau und dem dazu ers foderlichen Goden; das zweite von den Unfällen , denen es während seines Wachsthums ausgesekt ist; das dritte von der Behandlung des Rohrs und dem Zuckersieden; und das leşte schildert den Zustand der Negern in den Zuckerrfans zungen, und fodert die Landesleute des Dichters zu größerer Menschlichkeit gegen dieselben auf. Da Dr. Grainger selbst, als Arzt, in Westindien einen Theil seines Lebens zus brachte, so schildert er die hier vorkommenden Gegenstände, Scenen und Anstalten aus eigner Ansicht und Kenntniß ; nur verliert er sich dadurch zu oft aus den Gränzen der Poes fie in das wissenschaftliche, besonders botanische, Gebiete. Dadurch wird sein Gedicht weniger unterhaltend, als unters richtend; und dieß leştere ist es auch durch die beigefügten ausführlichen Anmerkungen. Unbenußt hat er indeß die Vortheile nicht gelaffen, welche felbft die Beschaffenheit feia nes Gegenftandes ihm zu Schilderungen minder bekaunter Naturscenen, zu kleinen erz&blenden Episoden, und interes fanten Beschreibungen darbot. --- Bergl. Durd's Briefe, 1. 12. 13.

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From scenes of deep distress, the heavenly Muse,
Emerging joyous, claps her dewy wings.
As when a pilgrim, in the howling waste,
Hath long time wandered, fearful at each step,
Of tumbling cliffs, fell serpents, whelming bogs;
At last, from some long eminence ,_descries
Fair haunts of social life; wide-cultur'd plains,

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Grainger., O'er which glad reapers pour; he chearly sings:

So she to sprightlier notes her pipe attunes,
Than e'er these mountains heard; to gratulate,
With duteous carols, the beginning year.

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Hail, eldest birth of Time! in other climes,
In the old world, with tempests us herd in;
While rifled nature thine appearance wails,
And savage winter wields his iron mace:
But not the rockiest verge of these green isles,
Tho' mountains heapt on mountains brave the sky,
Dares winter, by his residence, prophane.
At times the rustian, wrapt in murky state,
In roads will, fly, attempt; but foon the sun,
Benign protector of the Cane-land isles,
Repells the invader, and his rude mace breaks.
Here, every mountain, every winding dell,
(Haunt of the Dryads; where, beneath the shade,
Of broad - leaf'd china, idly they repole,
Charm'd with the murmur of the tinkling rill;
Charm'd with the hummings of the neighbouring

Welcome thy glad approach: but chief the Cane
Whole juice now longs to murmur down the

Hails thy lov'd coming; January, hail!


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O! M**! thou, whose polish'd mind contains
Each science useful to thy native isle!
Philofopher, without the hermit's fpleen!
Polite, yet learned; and, tho' folid, gay!
Critic, whose heart each error Aings in friendly

Planter whose youth fage cultivation taught
Each secret lesson of her fylvan school:
To thee the Muse a grateful tribute pays;
She' owes to thee the precepts of her song:
Nor wilt thou, four, refuse; tho' other cares,
The public welfare, claim thy busy hour;,
With her to roam (thrice pleasing devious walk)



The ripened cane-piece; and, with her, to taste (Delicious draught!) the nectar of the mill!

The planter's labour in a round revolves; Ends with the year, and with the year begins.

Ye swains, to Heaven bend low in grateful

prayer, Worship the Almighty; whose kind - fostering

hand Hath blest your labour, and hath given the cane To rise superior to each menac'd ill.

Nor less, ye planters, in devotion, lue, That nor the heavenly bolt, nor casual spark, Nor hand of malice may the crop deftroy.

Ah me! what numerous, deafnings. bells,

What cries of horror startle the dull fleep?
What gleaming brightness makes, at midnight,

By its portentuous glare, too well I sce
Palaemon's fate; the virtuous, and the wise !
Where were ye, watches, when the flame burst

A little care had then the hydra quell'd:
But, now, what clouds of white smoke load the

How strong, how rapid the combustion pours!
Aid not, ye winds! with your destroying breath,
The spreading vengeance - They contemn my


Rous’d by the deafning bells, the cries, the

From every quarter, in tumultuous bands,
The Negroes rush; and, 'mid the crackling flames,
Plunge, daemon-like! All, all, urge every nerve:
This way, tear up those Canes; dash the fire out,

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Grainger. Which sweeps, with serpent-error, o'er the ground.
There, hew these down; their topmost branches

And here bid all thy watery engines play:
For here the wind the burning deluge drives.

In vain. More wide the blazing torrent rolls;
More loud it roars, more bright it fires the pole!
And toward thy manfion, fee, it bends its way.
Haste! far, o far, your infant throng remove:
Quick from your ftables drag your steeds and mu.

With well-wet blankets guard' your cypress-roofs;
And where thy dried Canes in large stacks are

pil d.

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Efforts but serve to irritate the flames:
Naught but thy ruin can their wrath appease.
Ah, my Palaemon! what availd thy care,
Oft to prevent the earlieft dawn of day,
And walk thy ranges, at the noon of night?
What tho' nö ills affaild thy bunching fprouts,
And featons pour'd obedient to thy will:
All, all must perish; nor shalt thou preferve
Where with to feed thy little orphan-throng.

Oh, may the Cane-isles know few nights, like

For now the fail-clad points, impatient, wait
The hour of sweet release, to court the gale.
The late-hung coppers wish to feel the warmth,
Which well-dried fewel from the Cane imparts:
The Negroe train, with placid looks, survey
Thy fields, which full perfection have attain'd,
And pant to wield the bill: (no furly watch
Dare now deprive them of the luscious Cane :)
Nor thou, my friend, their willing ardour check;
Encourage rather; cheerful toil is light.
So from no field, shall flow-pac'd oxen draw
More frequent loaded wanes; which many a day,


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