Images de page

Whose peaceful path, and ever-open gate,
No feet but those of hardeo'd guilt shall miss:

There Death him elf thy Lucy shall restore ;
There yield up all his pow's, ne'er to divide you more.



FOR rural virtues, and for native skies,

I bade Augufta's venal fons farewel; Now, mid the trees, I see my smoke arise,

Now hear the fountains bubbling round my cell. O may that genius, which secures my reft,

Preserve this villa for a friend that's dear!
Ne'er may my vintage glad the fordid breaft!

Ne'er tinge the lip that dares be infincere !
Far from these paths, ye faithless friends, depart!

Fly my plain board, and dread my hoftile name! Hence! the faint verse that flows not from the hearty

But mourns in labour'd strains the price of fame! lov'd Simplicity! be thine the prize !

Asliduous art correct her page in vain ! His be the palm, who, guiltless of disguise,

Contemns the pow'r, the dull resource to feignStill may the mourner, lavish of his tears

For lacre's venal mede, invite my scorn!

Still may the bard, dissembling doubts and fears,

For praise, for flatt'ry fighing, figh forlorn!

Soft as the line of love-lick Hammond flows,

'Twas his fond heart effus'd th' melting theme: Ah! never could Aonia's hill disclofe

So fạir a fountain, or so loy'd a stream,

Ye loveless bards ! intent with artful pains

To form a figh, or to contrive a tear ! Forego your Pindus, and ons plains

Survey Camilla's charms, and grow sincere. But thou, my Friend ! while in thy youthful soul

Love's gentle tyrant seats his awful throne, Write from thy bosom ; let not. art controul

The ready pen that makes his ediets known.
Pleasing, when youth is long expir'd, to trace

The forms our pencil or our pen design'd:
Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face !

“ Such the soft image of our youthful mind !” Soft whilst we feep beneath the rural bow'rs,

The Loves and Graces fteal unseen away; And where the turf diffus'd its pomp of flow'rs,

We wake to wintry scenes of chill decay! Curse the sad fortune that detains thy fair;

Praise the foft hours that gave thee to her arms ; Paint thy proud scorn of ev'ry vulgar care,

When hope exalts thee, or when doubt alarms. Where with Oenone thou hast worn the day

Near fount or stream, in meditation rove; If in the grove Oenone lov'd to stray,

The faithful muse shall meet thee in the grove.





my friend, and


à cheerful day! Around his seat may peaceful shades abide ! Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with smiles, away,

And, till they crown our union, gently glide. Ah me! too swiftly fleets our vernal bloom !

Loft to our wonted friendship, loft to joy! Soon may thy breast the cordial wish resume,

Ere wint'ry doubt its tender warmth destroy. Say, were it our's, by Fortune's wild command,

By chance to meet beneath the torrid zone ; Wouldi thou reject thy Da on's plighted hand ;

Wouldft thou with scorn thy once-lov'd friend dil


Life is that ftranger land, that alien clime :

Shall kindred souls forego their social claim Launch'd in th’ vaft abyss of space and time,

Shall dark suspicion quench the gen'rous flame ? Myriads of souls, that knew one parent mould,

See sadly sever'd by the laws of chance ! Myriads, in time's perennial list enrolld,

Forbid by Fate to change one transient glance ! But we have met-where ills of ev'ry forra,

Where paffions rage, and hurricanes descend : Say, shall we nurse the rage, affist the storm ?

And guide them to the bofom of a friend?

Yes, we have met--through rapine, fraud, and wrong ;

Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore ! Why leave thy friend amid the boistrous throng,

Ere death divide us, and we part no more. For oh, pale fickness warns thy friend away!

For me no more the vernal roses bloom ! I fee ftern Fate his ebon wand display,

And point the wither'd regions of the tomb. Then the keen anguish from thine eye shall start,

Sad as thou follow'st my untimely hier ; “ Fool that I was, (if friends so soon must part,)

“ To let suspicion intermix a fear."

ELEGY, Comparing his humble Fortune with that of others, he ex

patiates on the miserable Servitude of an African Slave. Why droops this heart, with fancy'd woes forlorn ?

Why sinks my soul beneath each wintry sky ? What penfive crowds by ceaseless labours vorn,

What myriads wish to be as bless'd as I? What though my roofs, devoid of pomp, arise,

Nor tempt the proud to quit his destin'd way? Nor costly art my flow'ry dales disguise,

Where only simple friendship deigns to stray ? See the wild sons of Lapland's chill domain,

That scoop their couch beneath the drifted fuows, How void of hope they ken the frozen plain, Where the sharp east for ever, ever blows !

Slave though I be, to Delia's eyes a Nave,

My Delia's eyes endear the bands I wear; The sigh she causes well becomes the brave,

The pang she causes, 'tis even blifs to bear, See the poor native quit the Lybian fhores,

Ah! not in love's delightful fetters bound ! No radiant smile his dying peace restores,

Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship heals his wound. La vacant Bards display their boasted woes,

Shall I the mockery of grief display?
No, let the Muse his piercing pangs disclose,

Who bleeds and weeps his fum of life away!
On the wild beach in mournful guise he stood,

Ere the Mrill boatswain gave the hated sign ;
He dropt a tear unseen into the flood;

He stole one secret moment to repine.
Yet the Muse listen’d to the plaints he made ;

Such moving plaints as Nature could inspire :
Tu me the Mase his tender plea convey'd,

But smooth'd, and suited to the founding lyre. * Why am I ravish'd from my native strand ?

“ What favage race protects this impious gain?
Shall foreign plagues infeít this teeming land,

• And more than sea-born monsters plough the main! “ Here the dire locufts horrid swarms prevail ;

“ Here the blue asps with livid poison swell ; " Here the dry dipfa writhes his finuous mail;

“Can we not here, secure from envy, dwell ? # When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chase,

“ W'hen the ķern panther sought his midnight-prey,

« PrécédentContinuer »