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Somervile. A languid fcent. And now in open views
See, fee! fhe flies; each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and ftretches ev'ry nerve.
How quick the turns, their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives, till round enclos'd
By all the greedy pack, with infant fcreams
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: diftrefs'd he flies,
Shifting from place to place; but flies in vain.
For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,
By noify multitudes o'erpow'rd, he finks
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.
Thefe claim the pack, the bloody perquifite
For all their toils. Stretch'd on the ground fhe

A mangled corfe, in her dim-glaring eyes

Cold Death exults, and ftiffens ev'ry limb.

Aw'd by the threat'ning whip, the furious hounds
Around her bay, or at their mafter's foot
Each happy fav'rite courts his kind applause,
With humble adoration cow'ring low.

All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they wind
Her folemn dirge, while the loud - op'ning pack
The concert fwell, and hills and dales return
The fadly-pleafing founds. Thus the poor hare,
A puny daftard animal! but vers'd

In fubtle wiles, diverts the youthful train,



Dr. James Grainger, ein, vermuthlich noch lebens der, englischer Arzt, ist Verfasser eines Gedichts in vier Bus chern: The Sugar Cane, das Zuckerrohr, überschrieben. Das erste Buch handelt von deffen Anbau und dem dazu erz foderlichen Boden; das zweite von den Unfällen, denen es während seines Wachsthums ausgesezt ist; das dritte von der Behandlung des Rohrs und dem Zuckerfieden; und das legte schildert den Zustand der Negern in den Zuckerpflanz 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 leztere ist es auch durch die beigefügten ausführlichen Anmerkungen. Unbenugt hat er indeß die Vortheile nicht gelassen, welche selbst die Beschaffenheit seis nes Gegenstandes ihm zu Schilderungen minder bekannter Naturscenen, zu kleinen erzählenden Episoden, und interess fanten Beschreibungen darbot. --- Vergl. Dusch's Briefe, 12. 13.


B. III. v. I-164.

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



Grainger., O'er which glad reapers pour; he chearly fings:
So fhe to fprightlier notes her pipe attunes,
Than e'er thefe mountains heard; to gratulate,
With duteous carols, the beginning year.

Hail, eldest birth of Time! in other climes,
In the old world, with tempefts ufher'd in;
While rifled nature thine appearance wails,
And favage winter wields his iron mace:
But not the rockieft verge of these green isles,
Tho' mountains heapt on mountains brave the sky,
Dares winter, by his refidence, prophane.
At times the ruffian, wrapt in murky ftate,
In roads will, fly, attempt; but foon the fun,
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 fhade,
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!

O! M**! thou, whofe polifh'd mind contains
Each science useful to thy native isle!

Philofopher, without the hermit's spleen!
Polite, yet learned; and, tho' folid, gay!
Critic, whofe heart each error flings in friendly

Planter whofe youth fage cultivation taught
Each fecret leffon of her fylvan school:
To thee the Mufe a grateful tribute pays;
She owes to thee the precepts of her fong:
Nor wilt thou, four, refufe; tho' other cares,
The public welfare, claim thy bufy hour;,
With her to roam (thrice pleafing 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 fwains, to Heaven bend low in grateful


Worship the Almighty; whofe kind-foftering


Hath bleft your labour, and hath given the cane.
To rife fuperior to each menac'd ill.

Nor lefs, ye planters, in devotion, fue,
That nor the heavenly bolt, nor cafual fpark,
Nor hand of malice may the crop deftroy.

Ah me! what numerous, deafnings bells,

What cries of horror ftartle the dull fleep?
What gleaming brightnefs makes, at midnight,

By its portentuous glare, too well I sce

Palaemon's fate; the virtuous, and the wife! Where were ye, watches, when the flame burst forth?

A little care had then the hydra quell'd:

But, now, what clouds of white fmoke load the

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


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

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

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Grainger., Which fweeps, with ferpent error, o'er the ground. There, hew thefe down; their topmoft branches burn.

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.
Hafte! far, o far, your infant throng remove:
Quick from your ftables drag your fteeds and mu-


With well-wet blankets guard' your cypress-roofs; And where thy dried Canes in large ftacks are pil d.

Efforts but ferve to irritate the flames:
Naught but thy ruin can their wrath appeafe.
Ah, my Palaemon! what avail'd thy care,
Oft to prevent the earlieft dawn of day,
And walk thy ranges, at the noon of night?
What tho' no ills affaild thy bunching sprouts,
And feafons pour'd obedient to thy will:
All, all muft perifh; nor fhalt 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 fweet release, to court the gale.
The late hung coppers wifh to feel the warmth,
Which well-dried fewel from the Cane imparts:
The Negroe train, with placid looks, furvey
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, fhall flow-pac'd oxen draw
More frequent loaded wanes; which many a day,


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