But now the conquering arms of Macedon
Had humbled Perfia. Now Phoenicia's realm
Receives the fon of Ammon; at whofe frown
Her tributary kings, or quit their thrones,
Or at his fmile retain; and Sidon, now
Freed from her tyrant, points the Victor's step
To where her rightful fov'reign, doubly dear
By birth and virtue, prun'd his garden grove.
'Twas at that early hour, when now the fun
Behind majestic Lebanon's dark veil
Hid his afcending fplendor; yet thro'each
Her cedar-vefted fides, his flaunting beams
Shot to the ftrand, and purpled all the main,
Where Commerce faw her Sidon's freighted wealth,
With languid ftreamers, and with folded fails,
Float in a lake of gold. The wind was huf h'd,
And to the beach, each flowly-lifted wave,
Creeping with filver curl just kist the shore,
And flept in filence. At this tranquil hour
Did Sidon's fenate, and the Grecian hoft,
Led by the conqueror of the world, approach
The fecret glade that veil'd the man of toil.
Now near the mountain's foot the chief ar
Where, round that glade, a pointed aloe fcreen,
Entwin'd with myrtle, met intangled brakes
That bar'd all entrance, fave at one low gate
Whofe time disjointed arch with ivy chain'd
Bad ftoop the warrior train. A pathway brown
Led thro' the pafs, meeting a fretful brook,
And wandering near its channel, while it leapt
O'er many a rocky fragment, where rude Art
Had eas'd perchange, but not prefcrib'd its way.
Clofe was the vale and fhady; yet ere long
Its foreft fides retiring, left a lawn
Of ample circuit, where the widening ftream
Now o'er its pebbled channel nimbly tript
In many a lucid maze. From the flower'd verge
mafon. Of this clear rill now ftray'd the devious path,
Amid ambrofial tufts where fpicy plants,
Weeping their perfum'd tears of myrrh and nard,
Stood crown'd with fharon's rofe; or where, apart,
The patriarch Palm his load of fugar'd dates
Shower'd plenteous; where the Fig, of ftandard
ftrength,
And rich Pomegranate, wrapt in dulcet pulp
Their racy feeds; or where the Citron's bough
Bent with its load of golden fruit mature.
Meanwhile the lawn beneath the scatter'd shade
Spread its ferene extent; a ftately file
Of circling Cypress mark'd the diftant bound.
Now, to the left, the path ascending pierc'd
A fmaller fylvan theatre, yet deck'd
With more majeftic foliage. Cedars here,
Coeval with the fky-crown-d mountain's felf
Spread wide their giant arms; whence from a rock,
Craggy and black, that feem'd its fountain head,
The ftream fell headlong; yet ftill higher rofe,
Ev'n in th' eternal fnows of Lebanon,
That hallow'd fpring; thence, in the porous earth,
Long while ingulph'd, its crystal weight here
forc'd
Its way to light and freedom. Down it dafh'd;
A bed of native marble pure receiv'd
The new-born Naiad, and repos'd her wave,
Till with o'er-flowing pride it fkim'd the lawn.
Fronting this lake there rofe a folemn grot,
O'er which an ancient vine luxuriant flung
Its purple clufters, and beneath its roof
An unhewn altar. Rich Sabaea gums
That altar pil'd, and there with torch of pine
The venerable Sage, now first descry'd,
The fragrant incenfe kindled. Age had shed
That duft of filver o'er his fable locks,
Which spoke his ftrength mature beyond its prime, Niason.
Yet vigorous ftill, for from his healthy cheek
Time had not cropt a rofe, or on his brow
One wrinkling furrow plow'd; his eagle eye
Had all its youthful lightning, and each limb
The finewy ftrength, that toil demands and gives.
The warrior faw and paus'd: his nod with-
held
The crowd at awful distance, where their ears,
In mute attention, drank the fage's prayer.
Parent of Good! (he cried) behold the gifts
Thy humble votary brings, and may thy fmile
Hallow his cuftom'd offering. Let the hand
That deals in blood, with blood thy fhrines dis-
tain;
„Be mine this harmless tribute. If it speaks
„A grateful heart, can hecatombs do more?
Parent of Good! they cannot. Purple pomp
May call thy prefence to a prouder fane
Than this poor cave; but will thy prefence there
Be more devoutly felt? Parent of Good!
„It will not. Here then, fhall the proftrate heart, That deeply feels thy prefence, lift its pray'r.
But what has he to afk who nothing needs,
„Save what unafk'd is from thy heav'n of heav'ns
Giv'n in diurnal good? Yet, holy Power!
„Do all that call thee Father thus exult
In thy propitious prefence? Sidon finks „Beneath a tyrant's fcourge. Parent of Good! "Oh free my captive country."
He paus'd and figh'd; and now, the raptur'd crowd
Murmur'd applaufe: he heard, he turn'd, and faw
The king of Macedon with eager ftep
Burft from his warrior phalanx.
From the youth,
Who bore its state, the conqueror's own right hand
Snatch'd the rich wreath, and bound it on his brow.
His fwift attendants o'er his fhoulders caft
The robe of empire, while the trumpet's voice
Proclaim'd him king of Sidon. Stern he stood,
Mason. Or, if he fmil'd, 'twas a contemptuous fmile,
That held the pageant honours in disdain.
Then burft the people's voice, in loud acclaim,
And bad him be their Father. At the word
The honour'd blood, that warm'd him, flush'd his
cheek;
His brow expanded; his exalted step
March'd firmer; graciously he bowd the head.
And was the Sire they call'd him. „Tell me king,"
Young Ammon cried, while o'er his bright'ning
form
He caft the gaze of wonder, „how a foul
„Like thine could bear the toils of Penury?"
"Oh grant me, Gods!" he anfwer'd, fo to bear
This load of Royalty. My toil was crown'd
With bleffings loft to kings; yet righteous Pow.
ers!
"If to my country ye transfer the boon,
,,I triumph in the lofs: Be mine the chains
That fetter Sov'reignty; let Sidon fmile
With your best bleffings, Liberty and Peace."
Keiner unter den jeßigen englischen Dichtern hat sich in der, von dieser Nation so häufig und so vorzüglich schön bes arbeiteten, artistischen Gattung des Lehrgedichts, so ausgez zeichneten Beifall erworben, als William Hayley, Esq. aus der Grafschaft Suffer gebürtig. Seine drei hieher ges hörigen Gedichte find indeß nicht Lehrgedichte im ftrengern Verftande des Worts, und in Virgil's Manier; es sind vielmehr, ihrer ganzen Form und Einrichtung nach, zugleich beschreibende und unterrichtende poetische Episteln, von der Art, wie die Horazischen an die Pisonen und an den Auguft. Zuerst erschien der Essay on Painting, in zwei poes tischen Briefen, an den Mahler Romney gerichtet; dann der Effay on Hiftory, in drei Briefen, an den berühmten Ges schichtschreiber Gibbon; und ́zulegt der Essay on Epic Poetry, in fünf Episteln, an Hrn. Mason. In allen ist der Gang nicht sowohl didaktisch, als historisch und charakterisis rend; aber eben in der Entwerfung der eigenthümlichen Vorzüge jedes Mahlers, Geschichtschreibers und Heldens dichters zeigt Hr. Hayley einen sehr feinen Geschmack, und in ihrer Schilderung ein sehr fruchtbares poetisches Genie. Ueberaus unterhaltend find die jedem Gedichte beigefügten ausführlichen Anmerkungen, die zum Theil kritisch, meis ftens aber literarisch und historisch find. Unter denen zu dent legten Gedichte befindet sich der glückliche Versuch einer Ues bersehung der drei ersten Gesänge aus der Hölle des Dante, mit beibehaltner Versart der terze rime. Die sämmtlic chen bisherigen Werke dieses Dichters find zu London 1785 in sechs Oktavbånden zusammen gedruckt; und die beiden ersten der drei angeführten Essays, aus deren jedem hier eis ne kurze Probe folgt, ftehen, mit dem gedachten Kommentar begleitet, in den beiden bisherigen Bånden der Benzlerischen Poetical Library.
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