Sivut kuvina

Which spoke his strength mature beyond its prime, Miaron.
Yet vigorous still, for from his healthy cheek
Time had not cropt a rose, or on his brow
One wrinkling furrow plow'd; his eagle eye
Had a!l its youthful lightning, and each limb
The finewy strength, 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 sage's prayer. „Parent of Good! (he cried) behold the gifts „Thy humble votary brings, and may thy smile ,,Hallow his custom'd offering. Let the hand „That deals in blood, with blood thy shrines 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 presence to a prouder fane Than this poor cave; but will thy presence there „Be more devoutly felt? Parent of Good! „It will not. Here then, shall the prostrate heart, That deeply feels thy presence, lift its pray’r. „But what has he to ask who nothing '

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 prelence? Sidon sinks
„Beneath a tyrant's focurge. Parent of Good!
„Oh free my captive country." —

Sudden here,
He paus'd and ligh’d; and now, the raptur'd crowd
Murmur'd applause: he heard, he turn’d, and saw
The king of Macedon with eager step
Burst 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 swift attendants o'er his shoulders cast
The robe of empire, while the trumpet's voice
Proclaim'd him king of Sidon, Stern he stood,



iaron. , Or, if he smild, 'twas a contemptuous smile,

That held the pageant honours in disdain.
Then burst 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

His brow expanded; his exalted step
March'd firmer; graciously he bow d the head.
And was the Sire they call'd him. Tell me king,"
Young Ammon cried, while o'er his brightning

He cast the gaze of wonder, how a soul
„Like thine could bear the toils of Penury?"

Oh grant me, Gods! " he answer'd, „, so to bear
„This load of Royalty. My toil was crown's
With blessings lost to kings; yet righteous Pow.

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„If to my country ye transfer the boon,
„I triumph in the loss: Be mine the chains
„That fetter Sov'reignty; let Sidon smile
With your best blessings, Liberty and Peace.”



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Steiner unter den jebigen englischen Dichtern hat fich in der, von dieser Nation so häufig und ro vorzüglich schdn be: arbeiteten, artistischen Gattung des Lehrgedichts, so ausges zeichneten Beifall erworbent, als william Sapley, ksq. aus der Grafschaft Susser gebürtig. Seine drei bieber ges hårigen Gedichte sind indeß nicht lehrgedichte in strengern Verstande des Worts, und in Virgil's Manier; es find vielmehr, ihrer ganzen Form und Einrichtung nach, zugleich Beschreibende und unterrichtende poetische Xpisteln, von der Art, wie die horazischen an die Pisonen und an den Auguft. Zuerft erschien der Ejay on Painting, in zwei poes tischen Briefen, an den Mahler Romney gerichtet; dann der Esay on History, in drei Briefen, an den berühmten Ges schichtschreiber Gibbon; und zuletzt der Elling on Epic Poetry, in fünf Episteln, an Hrn. Hason. In allen ist der Gang nicht sowohl didaktisch, als hiftorisch und charakterisis rend; aber eben in der Entwerfung der eigenthümlichen Porzüge jedes Mahlers, Geschichtschreibers und Helden: dichters zeigt Syr. bayley einen sehr feinen Geschmack, und in ihrer Schilderung ein sehr fruchtbares poetisches Genie. Ueberaus unterhaltend sind die jedem Gedichte beigefügten ausführlichen Anmerkungen, die junt Cheil kritisch, meis ftens aber literarisch und historisch find. Unter denen zu dem lekten Gedichte befindet fich der glückliche Versuch einer Ues bersebung der drei ersten Gesänge aus der solle des Dante, mit beibehaltner Versart der terze rime. Die fämmtlis chen bisherigen Werke dieses Dichters find zu London 1785 in fechs Oktavbånden zusammen gedruckt; und die beiden ersten der drei angeführten Esays, aus deren jedem hier eis ne kurze Probe folgt, ftehen, mit dem gedachten Stommentar begleitet, in den beiden bisherigen Bånden der Benzlerischen Porsical Library

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Ep. I. v. 21-155.

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Painting, sweet Nymph now leayes in lifelels

Exhausted Italy and tinsel France,
And fees in Britain, with exulting eyes,
Her vot’ries prosper, and her glories rise.
Yet tho', my friend, thy art is thus carest,
And with the homage of the public blest,
And flourishes with growing beauty fair,
The child of Majesty's adoptive care,
The youthful artist still is doom't to feel
Obstruction's chilling hand, that damps his zeal:
Th' imperious voice of Vanity and Pride
Bids him from Fancy's region turn aside,
And quit the magic of her scene, to trace
The vacant lines of fome unmeaning face:
E'en in this work his wishes still are crost,
And all the efforts of his art are lost;
For when the canvas, with the mirror's truth,
Reflects the perfect form of age or youth,
The fond affections of the partial mind
The eye of judgment with delusion blind:
Each mother bids him brighter tints employ,
And give new spirit to her booby boy;
Nor can the painter, with his utmost art,
Express the inage in the lover's heart:
Unconscious of the change the seasons bring,
Autumnal beauty asks the rose of spring,
And vain self-love, in every age the same,
Will fondly urge soine visionary claim.
The luckiess painter, destin'd to submit,
Mourns the lost likeness which he once had hit,
And, doom'd to groundless censure, bears alone
The grievous load of errors not his own.

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Nor is Pride, or Folly's vain command,
That only tetters his creative hand;
At Fai hinon's nod he copies as they pass
Each quaint reflection from her crowded glass.
The formal coat, with intersecting line,
Mars the free graces of his fair design;
The towering cap he marks with like distress,
And all the motley mass of female dress.
The hoop extended with enormous size,
The corks that like a promontory rise;
The stays of deadly steel, in whose embrace
The tyrant Fashion tortures injur'd Grace.
But Art, despairing over shapes like these
To cast on air of elegance and eale,
Invokes kind Fancy's aid - the comes to spread
Her magic spells — the Gothic forms are fled;
And see, to crown the painter's just desire,
Her free positions, and her light attire!
Th'ambitious artist wishes to pursue
This brilliant plan with more extensive view,
And with adopted character to give
A lasting charm to make the portrait live;
All points of art by one nice effort gain,
Delight the learned, and content the vain;
Make history to life new value lend,
And in the comprehensive picture blend
The ancient hero with the living friend.
Most faire device! „, but, ah! what foes to fense,
What broods of motley monsters rise from hen.

The strange pretensions of each age and sex
These plans of fancy and of taste perplex;
For male and female, to themselves unknown,
Demand a character unlike their own,
Till oft the painter to this quaint distress
Prefers the awkward chapes of common dress.
Sweet girls, of mild and pensive foftness, choose
The sportive emblems of the comic Muse;
And sprightly damsels are inclin'd to borrow
The garb of penitence, and tears of sorrow:

Beisp. Samml. 3. B.



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