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Press'd in unrighteous fight, with just disdain Vervain for health, for bread he poppies plants
His mind was royal in a low estate,
And shackled up the mighty running doods, “ Say, where is now Mezentius great and bold, He then, anticipating Summer's hopes, That haughty spirit, fierce and uncontrola ?” The tendrils of the soft acanthus crops; To whom the Tuscan), with recover'd breath, His industry awak'd the lazy. Spring, As faint he view'd the skies, recall'd from death; And hasten'd on the Zephyr's loitering ving. “ Dost thou the stroke, insulting man! delay? For this with pregnant bees he chief was known Haste! let thy ve: geance take its destin'd way: T' abound: the balmy harvest all his own. Death never can disgrace the warrior's fame Successive swarms reward his faithful toil; Who dies in fight; nor conquest was my aim : None press'd from richer combs the liquid spol. Slain, savage! by thy hand in glorious strife, He crown'd his rural orchard's plain design, Not so my Lausus bargaind for my life :
With flowering lime-trees, and a wealtb of pine. Depriv'd of him, sole object of my love,
He knew in graceful order to dispose I seek to die;--for joy is none above.
Large-bodied elms, transplanted into rows. Yet, piteous of my fate, this grace allow,
Hard pear-trees flourish'd near his rustic dome, lf pity to the vanquish'd foe be due,
And thorns already purple with the plum; Satser my friends my gather'd bones to burn, Broad planes arose to form an ample bow'r, And decent lay me in the funeral urn:
Where mirth's gay sons refresh'd the sultry hour.
The pleasing labour of some future barda
TWENTIETH ODE OF ANACREON. The soul indignant sought the shades protound.
FAIR Niobe, old times survey'd,
Chang'd Pandion! to the swallow's bue,
On swallow's wings thy daughter flew..
But I a looking-glass would be,
That thou might'st see thyself in me, But, were I not, before the favouring gale, No; I would be a morning gown, Making to port, and crowding all my said, That so iny dear might me put on. Perhaps I might the garden's glories sing,
But I a silver stream would flow, The double roses of the Pæstan spring;
To wash thy skin, as pure as snow. How endive drinks the rill, and how are seen I would myself in ointment pour, Moist banks with celery for ever green;
To bathe thee with the fragraut show'r. How, twisted in the matted herbage, lies
But I would be thy tucker made, 'The bellying cucumber's enormous size;
Thy lovely sweiling bosom's shade. What flowers Narcissus late, bow Nature weares I would, a diamond necklace, deck The yielding texture of acanthus' leaves :
The comely rising of thy neck.
I would thy slender feet enclose,
TWENTY-FIRST ODE OF ANACREON
Fill with Bacchus' blessings franght,
I scarcely breathe, and feverish pant.
O! with these fresher flowers, renew An honest, painful industry supplied;
The fading garland on my brow, For, trusting pot-herbs to his bushy ground, Por oh! my forehead's raging heat For bees, fair candid lilies flourish'd round, Has rified all their graces sweet;
The rage of thirst I yet can quell,
By good men honour'd, by the bad approv'd, The rage of heat I can repel,
And lov'd the Muses, by the Muses lov’d; But, love! thy heat wbich burns my soul, Hail! and farewell, who bore the gentlest mind, What draughts can quench? what shades can cool? For thou indeed hast been of human kind."
ON LORD BARGENY.
TWENTY-SECOND ODE OF ANACREON.
Go hence instructed from this early urn,
ON SIR JAMES SUTTIE.
This unambitious stone preserves a name
These sung a friend, by friendly zeal inspir’d. Speaks to the heart, and risés for mankind;
No venal fal ehood stain'd the filial tear; Whose moral strain, if rightly understood, Unbought, unask'd, the friendly praise sincere; Invites thee to be bumble, wise, and good.
Both for a good man weep, without offence, Learn here, of life, life's every sacred end; Who led his days in ease and innocence. Hence form the father, husband, judge, and friend : His tear rose honest; honest rose his smile; Here wealth and greatness found no partial grace, His heart no falsebood knew, bis tongue no guile; The poor look'd fearless in th’ oppressor's face; A simple miud with plain just notions fraught, One plain good meaning through bis conduct ran, Nor warp'd by wit, nor by proud science taught; And if he err'd, alas! he err'd as man.
Nature's plain light still, rightly understood, If then, unconscious of so fair a fame,
That never hesitates the fair and goodThou read'st without the wish to be the same, Who view'd self-balanc'd, from bis calm retreat, Though proud of titles, or of boundless store,
The storms that vex the busy and the great, By blood ignoble, and by wealth made poor, Unmingling in the scene, whate'er befel Yet read; some vice perhaps thou may'st resign, Pitied bis suffering kind, and wish'd them well; Be ev'n that momentary virtue thine,
Careless if monarchs frown'd, or statesmen smild, Heav'n in thy breast here work its first essay, His purer joy, his friend, his wife, or child; Think on this man, and pass unblam'd one day. Constant to act the hospitable part,
Love in his look, and welcome in his heart;
The social momeut, the domestic joy,
A joy beneficent, warm, cordial, kind,
That leaves no doubt, no grudge, no sting behind: For whom a father, mother, consort weeps;
The beart-born rapture that from virtue springs, Whom brothers', sisters', pious griefs pursue,
The poor man's portion God withbeld froin kings. And childrens' tears with virtuous drops bedew:
This life at decent time was bid to cease, The Loves and Graces grieving round appear,
Finish'd among his weeping friends in peace: Ev'n Mirth herself becomes a mourner here;
Go, traveller, wish his shade eternal rest,
Go, be the same, for this is to be blest.
ON MR. BAILLIE, OF JERVISWOOD.
The pious parent rais'd this ballow'd place Join'd taste to virtue, and to virtue ease;
A monument for them, and for their race: No With riches blest, did not the poor disdain, Descendants! be it your successive cares, Was knowing, humble, friendly, great, humane; That no degenerate dust c'er mix with their's.
ON MR. BASIL HAMILTON.
What virtues might have grach her fuller day!
“ Butah! the charm just shown and snatch daway, This
verse, O gentle Hamilton! be thine, Priendship, Love, Nature, all reclaim in vain;
ON MR. CUNNINGHAM, OF CRAIGENDS.
Beneath the sacred shade a good mae lies.
In Britain's senate long unblam'd he sate, UNBLAM'D, O sacred shrine ! let me draw near,
And anxious trembled for her doubtful fate; A sister s ashes claim a brother's tear;
Above all giddy hopes, all selfish ends, No semblant arts this copious spring supply,
His country was his family and friends. "Tis Nature's drops, that swell in Friendship's eye: The fair example of his life is left ;
Children! weep not, thus cruelly bereft;
Another far more lasting, safe estate
Than e'er descended from the rich and great;
Their's fall to time or fortune soon a prey; Grace of his youth, and solace of his age : Hence the cbaste virgin learn each pious art
Or, the poor gift of kings, kings spatch away:
Your blest succession never can be less,
ON MISS SETON,
INTERRED IN THE CHAPEL OF SETON-HOUSE.
In these once hallow'd walls' neglected shade, Amidst the pomp that to the dead we give Sacred to piety and to the dead, To sooth the vanity of those that live,
Where the long line of Seton's race repose, Receive thy destin'd place, a hallow'd grave,
Whose tombs to wisdom, or to valour rose; 'Tis all we can bestow, or thou can'st crave;
Though now a thankless age, to slarery prope, Be these the honours that embalm thy name,
Past fame despising, careless of its own, The matron's praise, woman's best silent fame! Records no more; each public virtue fled, Such, to remembrance dear, thy worth be found, Who wisely counsell’d, or who bravely bled: When queens and flatterers sleep forgot around, Though here the warrior-shield is hung no more, Till awful sounds shall break the solemn rest;
But every violated trophy tore,
To this sweet maid a kindred place is due,
Snatches from fate, and seals thee for her own).
Half of the woes that rend a husband's heart, Virtue, by beauty render'd most belov'd;
Could it be taught to look with nature's eye, Whate'er kind friendship, or endearing truth, Like friendship could it breathe the tender sigh, For blest old age had treasur'd up in youth; With each dear rapture bid the bosom glov What blest old age, in its last calm adieu,
Love e'er could taste, or tenderness bestow; Might with applause and conscious joy review, Then might it tow'r unblam'd amid the skies, Reposes here, to wake in endless bliss,
And not to vanity, but virtue rise: Too early ravish'd from a world like this!
Its noblest pomp the humble eye endure, Where fair examples strike, but not inspire And pride when most it swelld, here find a cura To imitate the virtues all admire;
Cease then-nor at the Sovereign will repine; Yet listen, virgins! to this saving strain,
It gives, we bless; it snatches, we resign:
To earth what came from earth returns again,
ON MRS. HEPBURN.
Does great and splendid villany allure?
Would'st thou be happy? then these rules receive, With kind Bargeny, faithful to his word,
vain, Poor by no place, ignoble by no peerage; [age, Enjoy'd, what Hopetoun's groves could never yield, An easy mind, by no entails devis'd;
The pbilosopbic rapture of the field ! An humble virtue, by no kings excis'd:
Nor ask'd, nor fear'd. His life, and humble lays, Stated no law-case, and no critic quoted;
No critics envy, and no flatterers praise. Spoke what he thought; and never swore, norvoted. Sure those who know how hard to write, and live, Courts he abhorr'd, their errours, their abuses, Would judge with candour, pity and forgive. St. Janies, Versailles; all, all, but Sancta Crucis?: Known but to few, as if he ne'er had been, There where no statesmen buys, no bishop sells; He stole through life unheeded, and unseen: A virtuous palace, where no monarch dwells. He often errod, but broke no social duty;
Unbrib'd by statesmen, nd unhurt by beauty. Holyrood-house.