Virtue and fenfe I mean not to disjoin;
Virtue and fente are one: and trust me, he Who has not virtue is not truly wife. Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool) Is fenfe and fpirit, with humanity:
'Tis fometimes angry, and its frown confounds; 'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance juft.
Knaves fain would laugh at it; fome great ones dare;
But at his heart the moft undaunted fon
Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms. To noblest uses this determines wealth: This is the folid pomp of profperous days: The peace and fhelter of adverfity.
And if you pant for glory, build your fame On this foundation, which the fecret fhock Defies of Envy and all-fapping Time. The gaudy glofs of Fortune only strikes The vulgar eye: The fuffrage of the wife The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'd By fenfe alone, and dignity of mind,
Virtue the ftrength and beauty of the foul Is the best gift of heaven: a happiness That even above the fmiles and frowns of fate Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth That ne'er encumbers, nor to bafer hands Can be transferred: it his the only good Man juftly boafts of, or can call his own. Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd; Or dealt by chance, to fhield a lucky knavė. Or throw a cruel fun-fhine on a fool. But for one end, one much-neglected use, Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants Are few, and without opulence fupplied)
Armstrong. This noble end is, to produce the foul: To fhew the virtues in their fairest light; To make Humanity the Minifter
Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breaft That generous luxury the Gods enjoy
Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly Sage` Sometimes declaim'd. Of Right and Wrong he taught
Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard:
And (ftrange to tell!) he practis'd what he preach'd.
William Somervile, (geb. 1692; geft. 1743;) ein angesehener englischer Landedelmann und Friedensrichter, und ein eifriger Liebhaber der schönen Literatur. Er vers suchte sich in mehrern Dichtungsarten, besonders auch in der dsopischen Fabel; in keiner aber mit so glücklichem Erfolg, als im Lehrgedichte, zu deffen Inhalte er die Jagd wählte, die er im frühern Theile feines Lebens eifrig betrieb, und im spåtern mit desto mehr Kenntniß besang. Dieß Gedicht, The Chafe, ift in reimlosen Jamben geschrieben, und besteht aus vier Büchern. In dem ersten wird eine kurze Geschich te von dem Ursprunge und Fortgange der Jagden vorausgez schickt, und dann von der Wahl, Wartung und Verschiedenheit der Jagdhunde gehandelt; in den beiden folgenden geht der Dichter die mancherlei Arten der Jagd, in Ansehung des Wildes, und des Verfahrens verschiedner Nationen, durch: und in dem lezten Buche trägt er noch verschiedne Jägervorschriften nach, die größtentheils wieder die Jagdhunde betreffen. Eachverständige geben, wie Dr. Johnson bemerkt, diesem Gedichte das Zeugniß, daß es durchgehends mit sehr richtiger Einsicht geschrieben sey; aber auch das poetische Verdienst ist nicht geringe, welches es durch Lebhaftigkeit des Tons, durch Abwechselung der Gegenstände, durch Schönheit der Bilder und des Vortrages, und durch leichte Verbindung der Theile, erhalten hat.
THE CHASE; B. II, v. 51-297.
Now golden Autumn from her open lap Her fragrant bounties fhow'rs; the fields are fhorn:
Inwardly fmiling, the proud farmer views
The rifing pyramids that grace his yard,
And counts his large increafe: his barns are ftor'd,
Somervile. And groaning staddles bend beneath their load. All now is free as air, and the grey pack
In the rough briftly stubbles range unblam'd. No widow's tears o'erflow, no fecret curle Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord aw'd; But courteous now he levels ev'ry fence, Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud, Charm'd with the ratt'ling thunder of the field. Oh! bear me, fome kind Pow'r invifible! To that extended lawn, where the gay court. View the fwift racers, ftretching to the goal, Games more renown'd, and a far nobler train, Than proud Elean fields could boast of old; Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here, And Pindar's voice, to do their merit right; Or to thofe fpacious plains, where the ftrain'd
In the wide profpect loft, beholds at laft Sarum's proud fpire, that o'er the hills afcends, And pierces thro' the clouds; or to thy downs, Fair Coltfwold! where the well-breath'd beagle climbs,
With matchlefs fpeed; the green-afpiring brow, And leaves the lagging multitude behind.
Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blufhing goddess,
Rejoic'd I fee thy purple mantle spread O'er half the fkies; gems pave thy radiant And orient pearls from ev'ry fhrub depend. Farewell, Cleora! here, deep funk in down, Slumber fecure, with happy dreams amus'd,, Till grateful fteams fhall tempt thee to receive Thy early meal, or thy officious maids, The toilette plac'd, fhall urge thee to perform Th' important work. Me other joys invite; The horn fonorous calls, the pack awak'd Their matins chaunt, nor brook my long delay; My courfer hears their voice: fee there! with ears
And tail erect, neighing he paws the ground: Fierce rapture kindles in his redd'ning eyes, And boils in ev'ry vein. As captive boys, Cow'd by the ruling rod and haughty frowns Of pedagogues fevere, from their hard tafks If once dismifs'd, no limits can contain The tumult rais'd within their little breafts, But give a loose to all their frolic play; So from their Kennel rush the joyous pack; A thousand wanton gaieties exprefs Their inward ecftafy, their pleafing sport Once more indulg'd, and liberty restor❜d. The rifing fun, that o'er th' horizon peeps, As many colours from their gloffy fkins Beaming reflects, as paint the various bow, When April fhow'rs defcend. Delightful scene! Where all around is gay, men, horfes, dogs, And in each fmiling countenance appears Fresh-blooming health and universal joy.
Huntsman! lead on; lehind the cluft'ring pack
Submifs attend, hear with respect thy whip Loud-clanging, and thy harfher voice obey. Spare not the ftraggling cur, that wildly roves, But let thy brifk affiftant on his back Imprint thy just refentments; let each lash Bite to the quick, till howling he return, And whining creep amid the trembling croud.
Here on this verdant fpot, where Nature kind
With double bleffings crowns the farmer's hopes, Where flow'rs autumnal spring, and the rank mead Affords the wand'ring hares a rich repaft,
Throw off thy ready pack. See where thy Spread,
And range around, and dafh the glitt'ring dew! If fome ftanch hound with his authentic voice Avow the recent trail, the jostling tribe
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