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B A S T A R D.


IN gayer hours, when high my fancy ran,

The Muse, exulting, thus her lay began.. Bleft be the Bastard's birth! through wondrous ways, He shines eccentric like a comet's baze! No sickly fruit of faint compliance He!

5 He! stampt in nature's mint of ecstacy! He lives to build, not boast, a generous race :No tenth transmitter of a foolish face. His daring hope, no fire's example bounds ; His first-born lights, no prejudice confounds. He, kindling from within, requires no flame; He glories in a Bastard's glowing name.

Born to himself, by no poffeffion led,
In freedom foster'd, and by fortune fed;
Nor guides, nor rules, his sovereign choice control, 15.
His body independent as his soul;
Loos’d to the world's wide rangemenjoy'd no aim,
Prescrib'd no duty, and affign'd no name :
Nature's unbounded son, he stands alone,
His heart unbiass’d, and his mind his own. 20

O Mother, yet no Mother! 'tis to you,
My thanks for such distinguish'd claims are due.
You, unenflay'd to Nature's narrow laws,
Warm championess for freedom's sacred cause,
From all the dry devoirs of blood and line,

25 From ties maternal, noral and divine,



Discharg'd my grasping foul; puth'd me from more,
And launch'd me into life without an oar.

What had I loft, if, conjugally kind,
By nature hating, yet by vows confin'd,

Untaught the matrimonial bounds to flight,
And coldly conscious of a husband's right,
You had faint-drawn me with a form alone,
A lawful lump of life by force your own !
Then, while your backward will retrench'd desire, 35
And unconcurring spirits lent no fire,
I had been born your dull, domestic heir,
Load of your life, and motive of your care;
Perhaps been poorly rich, and meanly great,
The Nave of pomp, a cypher in the state ;
Lordly negle&ful of a worth unknown,
And flumbering in a seat, by chance iny own.

Far nobler blessings wait the Bastard's lot;
Conceiv'd in rapture, and with fire begot!
Strong as necessity, he starts away,

45 Climbs against wrongs, and brightens into day.

Thus unprophetic, lately misinspir’d,
*I sung: Gay fluttering hope, my fancy fir’d;
Inly secure, through conscious scorn of ill,
Nor taught by wisdom, how to balance will,
Rafhly deceiv’d, I saw no pits to Nun,
But thought to purpose and to act were one ;
Heedless what pointed cares pervert his

way, Whom caution arms not, and whom woes betray; But now, expos'd, and shrinking from distress,

55 I fly to shelter, while the tempests press ;


50 65

My Muse to grief resigns the varying tone,
The raptures languish, and the numbers groan.

O memory! thou foul of joy and pain!
Thou actor of our passions o’er again!

60 Why dost thou aggravate the wretch's woe? Why add continuous smart to every blow? Few are my joys; alas! how soon forgot! On that kind quarter thou invad'st me not: While sharp and numberless my sorrows fall; Yet thou repeat's, and multiply'st them all!

Is chance a guilt ? that my disasterous heart, For mischief never meant, must ever smart ? Can felf-defence be fin !-Ah, plead no more! What though no purpos’d malice stain'd thee o'er? 70 Had heaven befriended thy unhappy lide, Thou hadît not been provok’d-Or thou hadst died.

Far be the guilt of homeshed blood from all On whoin, unfought, embroiling dangers fall ! Still the pale Dead revives, and lives to me, 75 To me! through Pity's eye condemn'd to fee. Remembrance veils his rage, but swells his fate; Griev'd I forgive, and am grown cool too late. Young, and unthoughtful then; who knows, one day, What ripening virtues might have made their way ! 80 He might have liv'd till folly died in shame, Till kindling wisdom felt a thirst for fame. He might perhaps his country's friend have prov'd; Both happy, generous, candid, and belov'd He might have sav'd some worth, now doom'd to fall ; And I, perchance, in him, have murder'd all.

O fate



O fate of late repentance ! always vain :
Thy remedies but lull undying pain.
Where Thall my hope find rest ? —No Mother's care
Shielded my infant innocence with prayer :

No father's guardian hand my youth maintain’d,
Calld forth my virtues, or from vice restrain’d.
Is it not thine to snatch fome powerful arm,'
First to advance, then skreen froni future harm?
Am I return'd from death, to live in pain ?
Or would Imperial Pity save in vain ?
Distrust it not-What blame can mercy find,
Which gives at once a life, and rears a mind?

Mother, miscall’d, farewell--of foul severe,
This sad reflection yet may force one tear:
All I was wretched by to you I ow'd,
Alone from strangers every comfort flow'd !

Lost to the life you gave, your son no more,
And now adopted, who was doom d before,
New-born, I may a nobler Mother claim,

But dare not whisper her immortal name;
Supremely lovely, and ferenely great!
Majestic Mother of a kneeling State !
QUEEN of a People's heart, who ne'er before
Agreed-—-yet now with one confent adore !
One contest yet remains in this desire,
Who most shall give applause, where all admire.

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HERE Thames with pride beholds Augusta's

charms, And either India pours into her arms; Where Liberty bids honest arts abound, And pleasures dance in one eternal round; High-thron'd appears the laughter-loving dame, 5 Goddess of mirth! Euphrosyne her name. Her smile more cheerful than a vernal morn; All life! all bloom! of Youth and Fancy born. Touch'd into joy, what hearts to her submit! She looks her Sire, and speaks her Mother's wit. io

O'er the gay world the sweet inspirer reigns; Spleen flies, and Elegance her pomp sustains. Thee, goddess ! thee! the fair and young obey; Wealth, Wit, Love, Mufic, all confess thy fway.



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