More happy! laid where trees with trees entwin'd
In bowery arches tremble to the wind,
With innocence and fhade like Adam bleft,
While a new Eden opens in the breast!
Such were the scenes defcending angels trod
In guiltless days, when man convers'd with God.
Then shall my lyre to loftier founds be ftrung,
Infpir'd by Homer, or what thou haft fung:
My Mufe from thine shall catch a warmer ray;
As clouds are brighten'd by the God of day.
So trees unapt to bear, by art refin'd,
With shoots ennobled of a generous kind,
High o'er the ground with fruits adopted rife,
And lift their spreading honours to the skies.
A DIALOGUE between a LADY and her LOOKING-GLASS, while fhe had the Green-Sickness.
THE gay Ophelia view'd her face
In the clear crystal of her glass ;
The lightning from her eye was fled,
Her cheek was pale, the roses dead.
Then thus Ophelia, with a frown :—
Art thou, falfe thing, perfidious grown!
I never could have thought, I swear,
To find so great a flanderer there!
* Dr. Broome tranflated eight books of the Odyffey.
Falfe thing thy malice I defy!
Beaux vow I'm fair-who never lye;
More brittle far than brittle thou,
Would every grace of woman grow,
If charms fo great fo foon decay,
The bright poffeffion of a day!
But this I know, and this declare,
That thou art falfe, and I am fair.
The glafs was vex'd to be bely'd,
And thus with angry tone reply'd:
No more to me of falfehood talk,
But leave your oatmeal and your chalk!
'Tis true, you 're meagre, pale, and wan,
The reafon is, you 're fick for man.-
While yet it fpoke, Ophelia frown'd,
And dafh'd th' offender to the ground;
With fury from her arm it fled,
And round a glittering ruin fpread;
When lo! the parts pale looks disclose,
Pale looks in every fragment rofe;
Around the room inftead of one,
An hundred pale Ophelia's fhone;
Away the frighted virgin flew,
And humbled, from herself withdrew.
Ye beaux, who tempt the fair and young,
With fnuff, and nonfenfe, dance, and fong;
Ye men of compliment and lace!
Behold this image in the glass:
The wondrous force of flattery prové,
To cheat fond virgins into love:
Though pale the cheek, yet fwear it glows
With the vermilion of the rofe:
Praise them for praife is always true,
Though with both eyes the cheat they view;
From hateful truths the virgin flies;
But the falfe fex is caught with lyes.
A Poem on the Seat of War in FLANDERS, chiefly with relation to the Sieges: With the Praife of Peace and Retirement.
"Seceffus mei non defidiæ nomen, fed tranquillitatis
APPY, thou Flandria, on whofe fertile plains, In wanton pride luxurious plenty reigns; Happy! had heaven bestow'd one blefling more, And plac'd thee diftant from the Gallic power! But now in vain thy lawns attract the view, They but invite the victor to fubdue: War, horrid war, the fylvan fcene invades,
And angry trumpets pierce the woodland fhades; Here fhatter'd towers, proud works of many an age, Lie dreadful monuments of human rage;
There palaces and hallow'd domes difplay
Majestic ruins, awful in decay!
Thy very duft, though undistinguish'd trod,
Compos'd, perhaps, fome hero, great and good,
Who nobly for his country loft his blood!
Ev'n with the grave, the haughty spoilers war,
And death's dark manfions wide disclose to air:
O'er kings and faints insulting stalk, nor dread
To spurn the ashes of the glorious dead.
See the Britannic lions wave in air?
See! mighty Marlbrough breathing death and war!
From Albion's fhores, at Anna's high commands,
The dauntless hero pours his martial bands:
As when in wrath ftern Mars the thunderer fends
To fcourge his foes; in pomp the God descends,
He mounts his iron car: with fury burns :
The car fierce-rattling thunders as it turns.
Gloomy he grafps his adamantine shield,
And scatters armies o'er th' enfanguin'd field :
With delegated wrath thus Marlborough glows,
In vengeance rushing on his country's foes.
See! round the hoftile towers embattled ftands
His banner'd hoft, embodied bands by bands!
Hark! the fhrill trumpet fends a mortal found,
And prancing horfes fhake the folid ground;
The furly drums beat terrible afar,
With all the dreadful mufic of the war;
From the drawn fwords effulgent flames arife,
Flash o'er the plains, and lighten to the skies;
The heavens above, the fields and floods beneath,
Glare formidably bright, and shine with death;
In fiery ftorms defcends a murderous fhower,
Thick flash the lightnings, fierce the thunders roar
As when in wrathful mood Almighty Jove
Aims his dire bolts red-hiffing from above;
Through the fing'd air, with unrefifted fway,
The forky vengeance rends its flaming way;
And while the firmament with thunder roars,
From their foundations hurls imperial towers;
So rush the globes with many a fiery round,
Tear up the rock, or rend the ftedfaft mound:
Death shakes aloft her dart, and o'er her prey
Stalks with dire joy, and marks in blood her.
Mountains of heroes flain deform the ground,
The fhape of man half bury'd in the wound;
And lo! while in the fhock of war they close,
While fwords meet swords, and foes encounter foes,
The treacherous earth beneath their footfteps cleaves,
Her entrails tremble, and her bosom heaves;
Sudden in burfts of fire eruptions rise,
And whirl the torn battalions to the skies.
Thus earthquakes, rumbling with a thundering found, Shake the firm world, and rend the cleaving ground; Rocks, hills, and groves, are toft into the sky, And in one mighty ruin nations die.
See! through th' encumber'd air the ponderous bomb Bears magazines of death within its womb,
|