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Or his, who to maintain a critic's rank,

While the warm blood bedevs my veins, Tho' conscious of his own internal blank,

And unimpair'd remembrance reigos,
His want of taste unwilling to betray,

Resentment of my country's fate
'Twixt sense and nonsense hesitates all day; Within my filial breast shall beat;
With brow contracted hears each passage read, And, spite of her insulting foe,
And often bums and shakes his empty bead;

My sympathizing verse shall flow:
Uneil some oracle ador'd, pronounce

“Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn The passive bard a poet or a dunce;

Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn."
Then, in loud clamour echoes back the word,
'Tis bold! insipid-soaring or absurd.
These, and th'unnumber'd shoals of smaller fry,
That nibble round, I pity and defy.

VERSES

ON A YOUNG LADY PLAYING ON A HARPSICIIORD

AND SINGING.

WHEN Sappho struck the quiv'ring wire,
The throbbing breast was all on fire:
And when she rais'd the vocal lay,
The captive soul was charm'd away!
But had the nymph, possest with these,
Thy softer, cbaster, pow'r to please;
Thy beauteous air of sprightly youth,
Thy native smiles of artless truth;
The worm of grief had never prey'd
On the forsaken love-sick maid:
Nor had she mourn’d a hapless flame,
Nor dash'd on rocks her tender frane,

LOVE ELEGY.

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THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.

Written in the Year 1746. Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn! 'Thy sons, for valour long renown'd, Lie slaughter'd on their native ground; Thy hospitable roofs no more, Invite the stranger to the door; In smoky ruins sunk they lie, The monuments of cruelty. The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war; Bethinks himn of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast, and curses life. Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks, Where once they fed their wanton Nocks: Thy ravishd virgins shriek in vain; Thy infants perish on the plain. What boots it then, in every clime, Thro’ the wide-spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiminish'd blaze? Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke, Thy neck is bended to the yoke. What foreign arms could never quell, By civil rage and rancour fell. The rural pipe and merry lay No more shall cheer the happy day: No social scenes of gay delight

Beguile the dreary winter night: No strains but those of sorrow flow, And nought be heard but sonnds of woe, While the pale phantoms of the slain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain. O baneful cause, oh, fatal morn, Accurs'd to ages yet unborn! 'The sons against their fathers stood, The parent shed his children's blood, Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd, The victor's soul was not appeas'd: The naked and forlorn must feel Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel! The pious mother doom'd to death, Farsaken wanders o'er the heath, The bleak wind whistles round her head, Her helpless orphans cry for bread; Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, She views the shades of night descend, And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, Weeps o'er ber tender babes and dies,

IN IMITATION OF TIBULLUS. Where now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy!

Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest; Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye,

Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast. Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,

With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour; Lead beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,

Or press her wanton in love's roseate bower. For me, no more l'll range th’empurpled mead,

Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around, Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade,

To hear the music of the grove resound. I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall,

Where fancy paints the glimm’ring taper blue, Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall,

And shected ghosts drink up the midnight dew: There leagued with hopeless anguish and despair,

Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine: Then, with a long farewel to love and care,

To kindred dust my weary limbs consign. Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear

On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest? Strew vernal flow'rs, applaud my love sincere,

And bid the turf lie easy on my breast?

SONG, WHILE with fond rapture and amaze, On thy transcendent charms I gaze,

My cautious soul essays in vain

Could not thy liealing drop, illastrious quack, Her peace and freedom to maintain:

Could not thy salutary pill prolong her days; Yet let that blooming form divine,

For whom, so oft, to Marybone, alack! Where grace and harmony combine,

Thy sorrels dragg'd thee thro' the worst of ways! Those eyes, like gevial orbs, that move,

Oil-dropping Twick’nham did not then detaia Dispensing gladness, joy, and love,

Thy steps, tho' tended by the Cambrian maid; Du all their pomp assail my view,

Nor the sweet environs of Drury-lave;
Intent my bosom to subdue;

Nor dusty Pimlico's embor'ring shades;
My breast, by wary maxims steeld,
Not all those charms shall force to yield.

Nor Whitehall, by the river's bank,

Beset with rowers dank; But, when inrok’ to beauty's aid,

Nor where th’ Exchange pours forth its tawny sops; I see th’enlighten'd soul display'd;

Nor where to mix with offal, soil, and blood, That soul so sensibly sedate

Steep Snow-hill rolls the sable flood; Amid the storms of froward fate!

Nor where the Mint's contaminated kennel ruus: Thy genius active, strong and clear,

Ill doth it now beseem, Thy wit sublime, tho' not severe,

That thou shouldst doze and dream, The social arlour void of art,

When Death in mortal armour came, That glows within thy candid heart;

And struck with ruthless dart the gentle danie. My spirits, sense and strength decay,

Her lib’ral hand and sympathising breast My resolution dies away,

The brute creation kindly bless'd: And ev'ry faculty opprest,

Where'er she trod grimalkin purr'd around, Almighty love invades my breast!

The squeaking pigs her bounty own'd;
Nor to the waddling duck or gabbling goose

Did she glad sustenance refuse;
SONG.

The strutting cock she daily fed,

And turky with his snout so red; To fix her-'twere a task as vain

Of chickens careful as the pious hen, To count the April draps of rain,

Nor did she overlook the tomtit or the wrer; To sow in Afric's barren soil,

While redbreast hopp'd before her in the ball, Or tempests hold within a toil.

As if she common mother were of all.
I know it, friend, she's light as air,
False as the fowler's artful snare;

Por my distracted mind,

What comfort can I find; Inconstant as the passing wind,

O best of grannams! thou art dead and gone, As winter's dreary frost unkind.

And I am left behind to weep and moan, She's such a miser too in love,

To sing thy dirge in sad funereal lay,
It's joys she'll neither share nor prove;

Ah! woe is me! alack! and well-a-day!
Tho' hundreds of gallants await
From her victorious eyes their fate.

TO MIRTH.
Blushing at such inglorions reign,
I sometimes strive to break her chain;

PARENT of joy! hcart-easing Mirth!
My reason summon to my aid,

Whether of Venus or Aurora born; Resolv'd no more to be betray'd.

Yet goddess sure of hearinly birth,

Visit benign a son of Grief forlord: Ah! friend! 'tis but a short-liv'd trance,

Thy glittering colours gay, Dispellid by one enchanting glavce;

Around him, Mirth, display; She need but look, and, I confess,

And o'er his raptur'd sense Those looks completely curse or bless.

Diffuse thy living infuence:

So shall each bill in purer green array'd, So soft, so elegant, so fair,

And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow; Sure something more than human's there;

The grove shall smooth the horrours of the I must submit, for strife is vain,

shade, 'Twas destiny that forg'd the chain.

And streams in murmurs shall forget to fio:. Shine, goddess, shine with unremitted ray,

And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam our day.
ODES.

Labour with thee forgets his pain,
DURLESQUE ODE'.

And aged Poverty can smile with thee;

If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain, Where wast thou, wittol Ward, when łapless Aud weak th' uplifted arm of Tyranny. fate

The Morning opes on bigh From these weak arms mine aged grannam tore:

His universal eye; These pious arms essay'd too late,

And on the world deth ponr To drive the dismal phantom from the door.

His glories in a golden shower,

Lo! Darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray Dr. Smollett, imagining himself ill treated by Shrinks to the carern deep and wood furlord: lord Lyttleton, wrote the above burlesque o The brood obscene, that own her gloomy way, that nobleman's monody on the death of his lasy. Troop in her rear, and fly th’app.vach of Murn. Pale shivering ghosts, that dread th’all-cheering By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, light,

(night. And edges flower'd with eglantine. Quick, as the lightnings flash, glide to sepulchral Still on thy banks so gaily green,

May num'rous herds and fucks be seen,
But whence the gladdening beam

And lasses chanting o'er the pail,
That pours his purple stream

And shepherds piping in the sale,
O'er the long prospect wide?

And ancient Faith that knows no guile,
'Tis Mirth. I see her sit

And Industry imbrown'd with toil,
In majesty of light,

And hearts resolvd, and bands prepard,
With Laughter at her side.

The blessings they enjoy to guard.
Bright-ey'd Fancy hovering near
Wide waves her glancing wing in air;
And young Wit flinys his pointed dart,
That guiltless strikes the willing heart,
Fear not now AMiction's power,

TO BLUE-EY'D ANN.
Fear not now wild Passion's rage,
Nor fear ye aucht in evil hour,

WHEN the rough North forgets to howi,

And Ocean's billows cease to roll;
Save the tardy band of Age.
Now Mirth hath heard the suppliant poet's prayer;

When Lyoian sands are bound in frost,

And cold to Nova Zembla's lost! No cloud that rides the blast, shall vex the

When beav'nly bodies cease to move, troubled air.

My blue-ey'd Ann I'll cease to love.

No more shall flowers the meads adorn;
TO SLEEP.

Nor sweetness deck the rosy thorn;

Nor swelling buds proclaim the spring;
Soft Sleep, profundly pleasing power,

Nor parching heats the dog-star bring;
Sweet patron of the peaceful hour,

Nor laughing lilies paint the grove,
( listen from thy calm abode,

When blue-ey'd Ann I cease to love.
And bither wave thy magic rod;
Extend thy silent, soothing sway,

No more shall joy in hope be found;
And charm the canker Care away.

Nor pleasures dance their frolic round;
Whether thou lov'st to glide along,

Nor love's light god inhabit Earth;
Attended by an a'ry throng

Nor beauty give the passion birth;
Of gentle dreams and smiles of joy,

Nor heat to summer sunshine cleave,
Sach as adorn the wanton boy;

Wien blue-ey'd Nanny I deceive.
Or to the monarch's fancy bring
Delights that better suit a king;

When rolling seasons cease to change,
The glittering host, the groaning plain,

Inconstancy forget to range;
The clang of arms, and victor's train;

When lavish May no more shall bloom;
Or should a milder vision please,

Nor gardens vield a rich perfume;
Present the happy scenes of peace;

When Nature from her sphere shall start,
Plump Autumn, blushing all around,

I'll tear my Nanny from my heart.
Rich Industry with toil embrown'd,
Content, with brow serenely gay,
And genial Art's refulgent ray.

TO INDEPENDENCE.

STROPHE.

TO LEVEN-WATER.

The spirit, Independence, let me share!

Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye, On Leven's banks, while free to rove,

Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, And tune the rural pipe to lore;

Nor heed the storm that houels along the sky, I envied not the happiest swain

Deep in the frozen regions of the north, That ever trod the Arcadian plain.

A goddess violated brought thee forth, Pure stream! in whose transparent wave Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime My youthful limbs I wont to lave;

Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying No torrents stain thy limpid source;

clime. No rocks impede thy dimpling course,

What time the iron-hearted Gaul That sweetly warbles o'er its bed,

With frantic Superstition for his guide, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread;

Arm'd with the dagger and the pall, While, liglitly pois'd, the scaly brood

The sons of Woden to the field defyd: In myriads cleave thy crystal food;

The ruthless hag, by Weser's food, The springing trout in speckled pride;

In Heaven's name urg'd th' infernal blow; The salmon, monarch of the tide;

And red the stream began to flow:
The ruthless pike, intent on war;

The vanquish'd were baptiz'd with blood',
The silver eel, and mottled par'.
Devolving from thy parent lake,

" Charlemagne obliged four thousand Saxon A charming maze thy waters make,

prisoners to embrace the Christian religion, and

immediately after they were baptized ordered their · The par is a small fish, not unlike the smelt, throats to be cut.-Their prince Vitikind Ned for which it rivals in delicacy and flavour.

shelter to Gotric king of Denmark.

1

STROPHE.

ANTISTROPHE.

STROPHÉ. The Saxon prince in horrour fled

Arabia's scorching sands he cross'ds, From altars stain'd with human gore;

Where blasted nature pants supine, And Liberty his routed legions led

Conductor of her tribes adust, In safety to the bleak Norwegian shore.

To Freedom's adamantine shrine; There in a cave asleep she lay,

And many a Tartar hord forlorn, aghast 6! Lull'd by the hoarse-resounding main;

He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing; When a bold savage past that way,

And taught amidst the dreary waste Impe!l'd by Destiny, his name Disdain.

The all-cheering hymns of Liberty to sing. Of ample front the portly chief appeard:

He virtue finds, like precious ore, The hunted bear supply'd a shaggy vest;

Diffus'd thro' every baser mould, The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard;

Even now he stands on Calvi's rocky shore, And his broad shoulders brav'd the furious And turns the dro;s of Corsica to gold? blast.

He, guardian genius, taught my youth Hr stopt: he gaz'd; his bosom glow'd,

Pomp's tinsel livery to despise: And deeply felt the impression of her charms: My lips by him cbastis'd to truth, He seiz'd th' advantage Fate allow'd;

Ne'er pay'd that homage which the heart denies, And straight compress d her in his vig'rous arms.

ANTISTROPHE.
Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread,

Where varmish'd Vice and Vanity combin'd,
The curlieu scream'd, the Tritons blew

To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread; Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite;

And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind. Old Time exulted as he flow;

Where lusolence bis wrinkl'd front uprtars, And ludependence saw the light.

And all the flowers of spurious fancy blow; The light he saw in Albion's happy plains, And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears, Where under cover of a flowering thorn,

Full often wreath'd around the discreant's brow: While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains, Where ever-dimpling Falshood, pert and vain, The auspicious fruit of stol'n embrace was born - Presents her cup of stale profession's froth; The mountain Dryads seiz'd with joy,

And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,
The smiling infant to their charge consign'd; Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth.
The Doric Muse caress'd the favourite boy;

STROPHE.
The hermit Wisdom stor'd his opening mind.
As rolling years matur'd his age,

In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
He flourish'd bold and sinewy as his sire;

With either India's glittering spoils opprest:. While the mild passions in his breast asswage So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride, The fiercer flames of his maternal sire.

That bears the treasure which he capnot taste.

For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,
ANTISTROPHE.

And hireling miostrels wake the tinkling string:

Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay;
Accomplished thus, he wing’d his way,

And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ringi
And zealous roved from pole to pole,
The rolls of right eternal to display,

Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread shall inte:Vene;
And warm with patriot thoughts the aspiring And Nature, still to all her feelings just,

In vengeance hang a damp on every scene,
soul.

Shook from the baleful pinions of Disgust.
On desert isles? it was be that rais'd
Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave,

ANTISTROPHE.
Where Tyranny beheld amaz'd

Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts Fair freedoin's temple, where he mark'd her By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell, grave,

Where the poised lark his evening ditty chaunts, He steel'd the blunt Batavian's arms

And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dvell. To burst the Iberian's double chain3;

There Study shall with Solitude recline; And cities rear'd, and planted farms,

And Friendship pledge me to bis fellow-swains; Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide domain.

And Toil and Temperance sedately twine He, with the generous rustics, sate

The slender chord that fluttering life sustains: On Uri's rocks in close divan 4;

And fearless Poverty shall guard the door; And wing'd that arrow sure as fate,

And Taste unspoild the frugal table spread; Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man.

And Industry supply the humble store;

And Sleep unbribed his dews refreshing shed: * Although Venice was built a considerable time before the era here assigned for the birth of 5 The Arabs, rather than resign their indepenIndependence, the republic had not yet attained dency, have often abandoned their habitatious, to any great degree of power and splendour. and encountered all the horrours of the desert.

3 The Low Countries were not only oppressed 6 From the tyranny of Jenghis-Khan, Timurby grievous taxations, but likewise threatened Bec, and other eastern conquerors, whole trip with the establishinent of the Inquisition, when of Tartars were used to fly into the remoter rastes the Seven Provinces revolted, and shook off the of Cathay, where no ariny could follow them. yoke of Spain.

? The noble stand made by Paschal Paoli and * Alluding to the known story of William Tell his associates against the usurpations of the French and his associates, the fathers and founders of the king, must endear them to all the sons of liberty confederacy of the Swiss Cantons.

and independence.

1

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ci ime.”

ous.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE ODE TO INDEPENDENCE. Wlaite-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite, The poet, suli of enthusiasm and admiration, conShall chase far off the goblins of the night; tinues his prosopopeia; and, in a strain of poetry And Independence o'er the day preside,

exceedingly wild and romantic, gives us the gePropitious power! my patron and my pride. nealogy of Independence.

“ A goddess violated brought thee forth,

Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime
OBSERVATIONS

Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying ON DR. SMOLLETT'S ODE TO INDEPENDENCE.

According to the acceptation of our author, liLyric poetry imitates violent and ardent pas-berty means the security of our lives and possessions. It is therefore bold, various, and impetu- sions, and freedom froin external force: inde

It abounds with animated sentiments, glow- pendence is of bigher import, and denotes that ing images, and forms of speech often unusual, internal sense and consciousness of freedom which but commonly nervous and expressive. The com- beget magnanimity, fortitule, and that becoming position and arrangement of parts may often ap- pride which leads us to respect ourselves, and do pear disordered, and the transitions sudden an plothing unworthy of our condition. Liberty obscure; but they are always natural, and are therefore is, with perfect propriety, said to be the governed by the movements and variations of the mother of Independence, and Disdain his fatherimitated passion. The foregoing ode will illustrate Disdain arising froin indignation against an opthese observations.

pressor, and triumph on having frustrated or esThe introduction is poetical and abrupt. caped his malice. This stern personage is strongly “ Thy spirit, Independence, let me sbare! characterized in the following direct description. Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye,

“ Of ample front the portly chief appear'd: Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,

The hunted bear supply'd a shaggy vest; Nor beed the storm that howls along the sky.”

The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard; The picture exhibited in these lines is striking, And his broad shoulders braved the furious blast." because the circumstances are happily chosen,

Men may enjoy liberty without independence: briefly, and distinctly delineated. It is sublime, because the images are few, and in themselves they may be secure in their persons and possesgreat and magniticent. The “lion-heart and sions, without feeling any uncommon elevation of

But if their eagle-eye” suggest an idea of the high spirit and mind, or any sense of their freedom. commanding aspect of Independence: and the liberty is attacked, they are alarmed, they feel poet following with “ bosom bare” denotes, in a

the value of their condition, they are moved with picturesque manner, the eagerness and enthusiasm themselves, and if they are successful, or escape

indignation against their oppressors, thry exert of the votary. The last circumstance is peculiarly the danger that threatened them, thev triumph, happy.

they reflect on the happiness and dignity conferred “ Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.” by freedom, they applaud themselves for their exIt marks the scene: it is unexpected, and excites ertions, become magnanimous and independent, surprise: it is great and awful, and excites asto

There is therefore no less propriety in deducing nishment. Combined with the preceding circum- the origin of Independence from Disdain and Listance, it conveys a beautiful ailegorical meaning; berty, than in fixing the era of his birth. The and signifies that a mind truly independent is su-Saxons, according to our author, free, simple, and perior to adversity, and unmoved by external ac- inoffensive, were attacked, escaped the violence of cidents. We may observe too, in regard to the their adversary, reflected on the felicity of their diction, that the notions of sound and motion condition, and learned independence. communicated by the words“ howl” and “ along,"

The education of Independence, and the scene contribute, in a peculiar manner, to the sublimity of his nativity, are suited to his illustrious lineage, of the description.

and to the high achievements for which he was " Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye,

destined. Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,

“ The light he saw in Albion's happy plains, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky."

Where under cover of a flowering thorn, These lines are written in the true spirit of lyric The auspicious fruit of stoln embrace was boro

While Philomel renew'd ber warbled strains, poetry. Without preparing the mind by a cool The mountain Dryads seiz’d with joy, artificial introduction, rising gradually to the im- The smiling infant to their charge consign’d; petuosity of passion, they assail the imagination The Doric Muse caress’d the favourite boy; by an abrupt and sudden impulse; they vibrate The hermit Wisdom stor’d his opening mind.” through the soul, and fire us instantaneously with all the ardour and enthusiasm of the poet. Many The imagery in these lines is soft and agreeable, of the odes of Horace are composed in the same the language smooth, and the versification nuspirit, and produce similar effects. Without any merous. previous argument or introduction, in the fulness Independence thus descended, and thus divinely of passion and imagination, he breaks out in bold, instructed and endowed, distinguishes himself acpowerful, and impetuous figures.

cordingly by heroic and beneficent actions. Quo me, Bacche, rapis, tui

Accomplish'd thus, he winged his way, Plenum? Quæ neinora aut quos agor in specus And zealous rov'd from pole to pole, Velox mente nova?

The rolls of right eternal to display, Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem

And warm with patriot thoughts the aspiring soul.”

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