Oh blissful regions! oh unrival'd plains!
When Maro to these fragrant haunts retir'd!
Oh fatal realms! and oh accurft domains!

When Pliny, 'mid fulphureous clouds, expir'd! So fmiles the furface of the treacherous main,

As o'er its waves the peaceful halcyons play; When foon rude winds their wonted rule regain, And sky and ocean mingle in the fray.

But let or air contend, or ocean rave;

Ev'n hope fubfide amid the billows toft; Hope, ftill emergent, ftill contemns the wave, And not a feature's wonted fmile is loft.

ELE G Y VI.

To a lady on the language of birds.

OME then, Dione, let us range the grove,

C°

The science of the feather'd choirs explore: Hear linnets argue, larks defcant of love, And blame the gloom of folitude no more. My doubt fubfides—'tis no Italian song,

Nor fenfeless ditty, chears the vernal tree : Ah! who, that hears Dione's tuneful tongue, Shall doubt that music may with sense agree ? And come, my Mufe! that lov'ft the fylvan fhade ; Evolve the mazes, and the mist dispel : Tranflate the fong; convince my doubting maid, No folemn dervise can can explain so well.—

Penfive beneath the twilight fhades I fate,

The flave of hopeless vows, and cold difdain!
When Philomel addrefs'd his mournful mate,

And thus I conftrued the mellifluent ftrain.
"Sing on, my bird-the liquid notes prolong,
At every note a lover fheds his tear;
Sing on, my bird-'tis Damon hears thy fong;
Nor doubt to gain applause, when lovers hear.
He the fad fource of our complaining knows;

A foe to Tereus, and to lawless love!
He mourns the ftory of our ancient woes;

Ah could our mufic his complaints remove! Yon' plains are govern'd by a peerless maid;

And fee pale Cynthia mounts the vaulted sky, A train of lovers court the checquer'd fhade;

Sing on, my bird, and hear thy mate's reply.
Erewhile no fhepherd to these woods retir'd;

No lover bleft the glow-worm's pallid ray:
But ill-ftar'd birds, that liftening not admir'd,
Or liftening envy'd our fuperior lay.
Chear'd by the fun, the vaffals of his power,

Let fuch by day unite their jarring strains!
But let us chufe the calm, the filent hour,
Nor want fit audience while Dione reigns.”

ELEGY

He defcribes his vifion to an acquaintance.

"Cætera per terras omnes animalia," &c.

N diftant heaths, beneath autumnal skies, Penfive I faw the circling fhades descend; Weary and faint I heard the storm arise,

VIRG.

While the fun vanish'd like a faithlefs friend.
No kind companion led my steps aright;
No friendly planet lent its glimmering ray;
Ev'n the lone cot refus'd its wonted light,

Where toil in peaceful flumber clos'd the day.
Then the dull bell had given a pleafing found;
The village cur 'twere tranfport then to hear;
In dreadful filence all was hufh'd around,

While the rude ftorm alone diftrefs'd mine ear. As led by Orwell's winding banks I ftray'd, Where towering Wolfey breath'd his native air; A fudden luftre chas'd the flitting fhade,

The founding winds were hufh'd, and all was fair. Inftant a grateful form appear'd confeft;

White were his locks with awful fcarlet crown'd, And livelier far than Tyrian feem'd his veft,

That with the glowing purple ting'd the ground. "Stranger, he faid, amid this pealing rain, Benighted, lonefome, whither would'st thou stray? Does wealth or power thy weary ftep conftrain? Reveal thy with, and let me point the way.

For know I trod the trophy'd paths of power;

Felt every joy that fair ambition brings; And left the lonely roof of yonder bower, To stand beneath the canopies of kings. I bade low hinds the towering ardour share; Nor meanly rofe, to blefs myfelf alone: I fnatch'd the fhepherd from his fleecy care, And bade his wholefome dictate guard the throne. Low at my feet the fuppliant peer I faw;

I faw proud empires my decifion wait;

My will was duty, and my word was law,

My fmile was tranfport, and my frown was fate." Ah me! faid I, nor power I feek, nor gain; Nor urg'd by hope of fame these toils endure; A fimple youth, that feels a lover's pain,

And, from his friend's condolance, hopes a cure. He, the dear youth, to whofe abodes I roam, Nor can mine honours, nor my fields extend; Yet for his fake I leave my diftant home,

Which oaks embofom, and which hills defend. Beneath that home I fcorn the wintry wind;

The fpring, to fhade me, robes her fairest tree; And if a friend my grafs-grown threshold find, O how my lonely cot refounds with glee! Yet, though averfe to gold in heaps amass'd, I wish to blefs, I languifh to bestow;

And though no friend to fame's obftreperous blast, Still, to her dulcet murmurs not a foe.

Too

Too proud with fervile tone to deign addrefs;
Too mean to think that honours are my duc,
Yet fhould fome patron yield my ftores to blefs,
I fure fhould deem my boundlefs thanks were few.
But tell me, thou! that, like a meteor's fire,

Shot'ft blazing forth; difdaining dull degrees;
Should I to wealth, to fame, to power afpire,
Muft I not pafs more rugged paths than these?
Muft I not groan beneath a guilty load,

Praise him I fcorn, and him I love betray?
Does not felonious envy bar the road?

Or falfehood's treacherous foot befet the way?
Say fhould I pass through favour's crowded gate,
Muft not fair truth inglorious wait behind?
Whilft I approach the glittering fcenes of ftate,
My best companion no admittance find?
Nurs'd in the fhades by freedom's lenient care,
Shall I the rigid fway of fortune own?
Taught by the voice of pious truth, prepare
To fpurn an altar, and adore a throne?
And when proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes,
And when it leaves me no unfhaken friend,
Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads,

Which oaks embofom, and which hills defend?
Oh! if thefe ills the price of power advance,
Check not my fpeed where focial joys invite !
The troubled vifion caft a mournful glance,
And fighing vanifh'd in the fhades of night.

ELEGY