THRICE happy toy! profusely blest
When seated in thy balmy nest!

O wouldst thou change thy place with me,
How sweetly ravish'd should I be !
So plac'd, perhaps might find the art
To soften her unyielding heart;
To pity all my tedious pain,
And grant me love for love again.

But, oh! I rave-the promis'd bliss.
Is all the fond deceit of wish:
Yet, happy toy-while thus I mourn,
Hope not thyself shall e'er return:
No more shalt thou insulting there
A favourite rest, while I despair!
My cherish'd captive shalt thou be,
Only on this condition free:

That when, departing from her breast,
At night thou leav'st thy balmy nest,
To me thy station thou resign,
And grant the joys for which I pine.

ON MISS CARTER'S

BEING DRAWN IN THE HABIT OF MINERVA,

WITH PLATO IN HER HAND.

SAY, Fayram, say, whose is th' enliv'ning face?
What British charmer shines with Attic grace?
Whence that calm air? that philosophic smile?
And is a Pallas left to bless our isle?

Have we a nymph, who, midst the bloom of youth,
Can think with Plato? and can relish truth?
One who can leave her sex's joys behind,
To taste the nobler pleasures of the mind?
Well, Carter, suits thy mien this apt disguise,
This mystic form to please our ravish'd eyes:
Well chose thy friend this emblematic way,
To the beholders strongly to convey
Th' instructive moral, and important thought,
Thy works have publish'd, and thy life has taught,
That all the trophies vanity can raise

Are mean, compar'd to heav'nly Wisdom's praise!
Not that vain shade, which oft usurps the name,
The pedant's mistress, and the schoolman's claim,
But sacred Science! that diviner art,
Which while it guides the judgment, mends the heart,
Such as your own immortal Plato fir'd,
When Athens listen'd, and the world admir'd,
Such as directed Newton's eagle view,

To pierce the clouds, and look all Nature through!
And such as now, in milder glories drest,
Reanimates thy fair unblemish'd breast;
VOL XIV.

ΤΟ

THE DISCONSOLATE HILARIA,

ON THE MUCH LAMENTEd death of HER DEAR SISTER
CLARISSA.

WHILE yet thy bosom feels the fatal blow,
And hides indulgent its expressless woe,

Fair mourner! can'st thou give the Muse to share
A grief, too exquisite for thee to bear?

Oft has thy smile approving blest her strain,
Now let her, faithful, suffer in thy pain:
Touch'd with thy loss in all thy sorrow join,
Count sigh for sigh, and mingle tears with thine:
All, all is due-that we can fondly pay,

To the dear friend, whom Fate has snatch'd away!
Come, Muses! your Urania calls you, come,
And grace with cypress-wreaths Clarissa's tomb.

Need I to thee, her soul's best partner, tell
That excellence which none could know so well!
Need I to thee recall each living grace,
Her blameless virtues, or her heavenly face!
Her soul, in spotless innocence enshrin'd,
Her form-the lovely temple of her mind!
Where cheerfulness and truth for ever smil'd,
Whence beam'd fair piety, and goodness mild:
Her heart, that knew nor vanity, nor pride,
And made her half an angel, ere she died!

Come, weeping sisters, all around me come,
And bathe with crystal tears Clarissa's tomb.

As when with rising grace the rose entwines
Its blushing head, and through the foliage shines,
With native sweets embalms the ambient day,

| And reigns the queen of flow'rs, the queen of May!
In beauty's fragrance so Clarissa shone,
And ev'ry chaste attraction was her own!
All that could win the judgment, or excite
Long admiration, or refin'd delight:
Not all combin'd the charming maid could save,
Death bore his lovely victim to the grave!

Come, ye sad Muses! all around me come,
And strew with sweets Clarissa's sacred tomb.

Alas, Hilaria!-what is life's short date
But the brief passage to our endless state?
Of which Heav'n wisely hides the term assign'd,
In pity to our feebleness of mind!
To ease our journey, and allure us on,
Till the long tedious pilgrimage is done!
But when it lights below a pure desire,
Such as did late thy sister-bosom fire:
Too soon th' immortal flame delights to rise,
And quits the Earth, to grace its kindred skies!
Come, friendly sisters, all around me come,
And with this verse adorn Clarissa's tomb.

M m

Oh, dare I think ?-what yet I dread to hear!
The father's, mother's, or the sister's fear!
When first the dire contagion seiz'd her heart,
And baffled all the weak reliefs of art:
I know!-I feel!-I see th' alarming scene,
Where none but thy Clarissa was serene!
She, calm, the close of youth and life survey'd,
She, calm, the early debt of Nature paid;
Mildness, eternal mildness, was her pride,
And gently as she liv'd, in peace she died!

Come, ye Aonian maids! around me come,
And with these honours grace her virgin tomb.

Bear, kind Hilaria !-to thy parent's view
This faithful tribute,-now too justly due!
Oh tell thy father,-the long-silent page
Bemoans his loss, and trembles for his age!
For half thy mother's joy is torn away,
And life now verges to its last decay:
'Tis thine, reserv'd by Heav'n, the blest relief
To soothe each motion of awakening grief:
Soften thy dear dejected parent's woe,
And live their smiling comfortress below.

Come, virgins, to your lov'd Hilaria, come,
And raise the mourner from her sister's tomb.

When, mournful Muse! O when shall cease thy tear,
So oft demanded for a line so dear?

First drew thy grief a slaughter'd infant's' fate:
Next Cairness' virtue claim'd thy fond regret:
Now fair Clarissa's loss the woe renews,
As wakes the setting Sun the ev'ning dews!
Yet with superior worth shall virtue glow,
Shall brighten through the deepest gloom of woe!
Victorious from the short-liv'd struggle rise,
And gain, by suffering, its immortal prize!

Come, spotless maids, to my assistance come,
And consecrate the chaste Clarissa's tomb.

Oft must I think-how innocently gay,
United have we pass'd the hours away
In converse, by the sweets of truth endear'd,
By mirth enliv'ned, and by friendship cheer'd:
If cross, sometimes, and fashionably rude,
Folly, or malice, ventur'd to intrude:

Like the thin clouds when scatter'd by the wind,
They left no shadows of themselves behind:
Their absence but restor'd the face of light,
And serv'd to heighten the renew'd delight.
Come, virgins, all around Urania come,
And with this verse inscribe Clarissa's tomb.

Yet these reflections, once so justly dear,
Now grow for recollection too severe.
For see, Emilia, once your mutual friend,
To the low earth her weeping aspect bend!
When reach'd her ear thy much-lov'd sister's death,
Her eyes grew sightless, and she lost her breath!
"Dead! can it be?-the dear Clarissa dead?”
(Were the first words she faintly, faintly said.)
How short, alas! is youth's or beauty's pride?
How vain is life?-when such perfection died!
Come, sisters! all around me, sisters, come,
And consecrate Clarissa's lasting tomb.

A lively young boy, about eight years old, unhappily shot by his cousin about the same age, in play together.

» The young lady's grandmother.

And thou, the dear associate of her mind,
Nearer by virtue-than by nature join'd:
Accept the verse;-the Muse by Heav'n inspir'd,
From thy first dawn beheld thee, and admir'd!
Now show, Hilaria, show that mental day,
Of which, prophetic, I remark'd the ray:
When the pleas'd aspect, and engaging mien,
Show'd undiscover'd treasures lodg'd within:
Show'd you were born the world's esteem to bind,
And raise your trophies o'er the captive mind!
Come, ye Aonian mourners! round me come,
Hilaria's praise shall grace Clarissa's tomb.

Proceed, fond Muse, awake the nobler string!
'Tis thine th' ascension of the blest to sing;
Go, point to the distress'd Hilaria's sight,
Her sister beaming from the realms of light!
To bring the fond afflicted mourner ease,
Her heart to comfort, and her eye to raise;
To bid her now employ each filial art,
To soothe the anguish of her parents' smart;
By fond degrees the gloom of grief efface,
And fill her own Clarissa's widow'd place!.

Come, smiling sisters, to assist me come,
And raise the mourner from Clarissa's tomb.

'Tis done! Hilaria, dry those pearly eyes!
Thy smiling sister hails thee from the skies:
Where now enthron'd the spotless scraph sings
Celestial notes, and strikes the silver strings!
Feels her calm breast with conscious pleasure move,
And shares the raptures of the blest above!
Sees kindred saints her known resemblance trace,
And adds herself an angel to the race:
Yet thinks, perhaps, not all her joys complete,
Till you shall join her in that blissful seat:
Meanwhile, she lives in thy resemblant mind,
Nor is she left-while you are left behind!

Come, Muses! to the sad Hilaria come,
And say this verse adorns Clarissa's tomb.

WINE THE CURE OF LOVE.

A BALLAD.

As lovesick Apollo, by Daphne disdain'd,
In Tempé sat whining beneath an old oak;
Bacchus happen'd to hear as he sadly complain'd,
And, shaking with laughter, thus jestingly spoke.

"What, wounded by Cupid! now shame on thy skill,

To sit fretting thy heart at the foot of a tree; Can th' invincible god, who a Python did ki!!,

Now whimper and sob for the sting of a bee?

"I protest, cousin Phoebus, thy fortune is hard, That nor music, nor verse can diminish thy

grief:

Can no herb be discover'd, no potion prepar'd, To give the great master of science relief?

"Come, take heart, and be counsell'd, and lift up thy head!

I am the best doctor when such fevers assail: Quick, empty this goblet, no more need be said; I never once knew my catholicon fail."

O vitæ tutæ facultas
Obscuræ, angustique lares, O munera nondum
Intellecta Deum.
Lucan.

PALE Want! thou goddess of consumptive hue,
If thou delight to haunt me still in view;
If still thy presence must my steps attend,
At least continue, as thou art, my friend.
When wide example bids me be unjust,
False to my word-or faithless to my trust;
Bid me the baneful errour, counsell'd, see,
And shun the world, to find repose with thee!
When Vice to Wealth would turn my partial eye,
Or Int'rest shut my ear to Sorrow's cry:
Or leading Custom would my reason bend,
My foe to flatter, or desert my friend;
Present, kind Poverty, thy temper'd shield,
And bear me off, unvanquish'd, from the field.
If giddy Fortune should return again,
With all her idle, restless, wanton train;
Her magic glass should false Ambition hold,
Or Av'rice bid me put my trust in gold,
To my relief, thou virtuous goddess, haste,
And with thee bring thy smiling daughters chaste,
Health, Liberty, and Wisdom-sisters bright!
Whose charms can make the worst condition light;
Beneath the hardest fate the mind can cheer,
Can heal affliction, and disarm despair;
In chains-in torments, pleasure can bequeath,
And dress in smiles the tyrant brows of Death.

A hermit's temp'rance, with a monarch's heart: When thus thy goodness shed its noontide ray, Why thus has Heav'n eclips'd the gentle day? Forbid Benevolence itself to shine,

And robb'd the world of eharity like thine?

Yet dim with grief the Muse beholds thee rise,
Smile ev'n in death, and plume thee for the skies.
Where prayer long since had form'd thy blest abode,
To live with angels and adore thy God!
In this fair hope thy blameless life was past,
And now the glorious prize is thine at last:
This gave thee pomp and pleasure to forego,
For the superior joy-to soften woe,

To ease th' oppress'd-to bless the honest toil,
And bid the unbefriended orphan smile:
A joy to wealth or grandeur seldom known;
A joy which Heav'n allotted as thy own.

This gave thee, calm, life's vanities to view,
Each sense to rule, each passion to subdue :
For Nature's wants just simply to provide,
To ease the wants of numberless beside;
To practice more than Epictetus taught,
Or Cato acted, or Confucius thought:
Which only christian faith the mind can teach,
And christian piety alone can reach.

Forbear, fond Muse, the heav'nly sisters come,
See how, associate, they surround his tomb!
Mark, Charity with wild dejection mourn,
Her flame suppress'd beneath his spotless urn!
There Piety, with look exalted, eyes

His radiant flight, and waits him to the skies!
While Hope, rejoic'd, his bright example views,
And bids mankind th' instructive lines peruse:
A joy which painted grandeur never found,
To steal through life-and bless a world around.

ON FRIENDSHIP.
Nomen inane, vale.

FRIENDSHIP adieu! thou dear deceitful good,
So much profess'd, so little understood.
How often to thy sacred injur'd name,
A thousand vain pretenders lay their claim!
Like flies, attend the summer of our day,
And in the sunbeams of our fortunes play;
Soon we behold the treach'rous insects gone,
But when life's wintry-evening shades come on,
And find ourselves at once deserted and undone.

FRIENDSHIP,

AN ODE.

TO DR. WILLIAM CUMMING, OF DORCHESTER.

EXALTED passion-pure ethereal flame,

Reason's perfection-truest, best delight! Like her great laws unchangeably the same, And like her radiant source serenely bright.

How shall I sing of thee! best of human joys! Thy blameless sweet endearments how rehearse! How aim a flight the soaring seraph tries!

Far too sublime for my unequal verse!

Do thou, Clarissa!-now immortal maid,

Round whose fair brow celestial splendours shine: In Friendship's cause vouchsafe thy fav'ring aid, And teach the trembling lyre to copy thine.

O give the Muse with kindred warmth to glow!
The thoughts inspirit, and the numbers raise,
That all her animated strain may flow,

Suited to godlike Friendship's lasting praise. Friendship! the dearest blessing life can bring; The noblest treasure mortals can enjoy ; Friendship, of happiness th' untroubled spring, Which time, nor death, nor absence can destroy.

Goddess inviolate, she rules the soul

With constancy no falsehood can unbind; She reigns acknowledg'd far as pole from pole, Triumphant as her spotless throue the mind.

Here is the joy when souls congenial meet, Tun'd to one equal tone by sense divine! When social minds at first acquaintance greet, An intercourse no language can define.

Here is the sympathetic pleasure found,

When the full heart with kindness overflows;
The union her's, by mutual honour bound,
The highest bliss that guardian Heav'n bestows.

Of sacred Wisdom, she the blameless child,
Increases every blameless joy below;
Or, join'd with Patience fair, (her sister mild)
Delights to soften ev'ry guiltless woe!

Vice, aw'd by her, amidst the blaze of pow'r,
Abash'd, the prevalence of virtue owns;
And helpless innocence in trouble's hour,
Enjoys a comfort, not the gift of thrones.

When Flattery, vain usurper of her name,
As fortune wanes, recalls her idle host;
Then kindles brightest her unalter'd flame,
As glows the friendly planet through the frost.

She smiles at Envy and corroding Time;

Souls pair'd by her no pow'r can disunite; Her balmy influence gladdeus ev'ry clime, And savage nations feel her fetters light.

When all of art and all of nature dies,

When the dissolving Sun shall veil his head; Friendship, victorious, shall adorn the skies,

Shall shine, when all their fading pomp is fled.

Thence wide shall beam, benevolent, her ray To worlds philosophy has never guess'd: Gild with diffusive light the realms of day, And yield eternal pleasure to the blest.

PERSONAL MERIT:

FROM THE FRENCH OF M. LA MOTTE.

ADDRESSED TO DR. HENRY TONGE, AT BRISTOL

OUR parentage is not of choice;

Nor does, my friend, the public voice
Alarm the worthy mind:

Yes, let the world act as it will,
'Tis Virtue only, Virtue still,

Leaves Wealth and Birth behind.

Where Goodness lodg'd with Wisdom lies,
True greatness seek-there fix thy eyes!
('Tis Vice bestows disgrace:)
But Merit blazons what we are
Beyond the coronet or star,

The boast of ancient race.

Oh! how I view with raptur'd eyes,
From race ignoble, Horace rise:
Nor yet his source disdain:
But with contempt, amidst the crowd
I view a modern upstart, proud,
Display his gilded train.

By Virtue stagnates blood, or flows,
As she refuses or bestows;

So Castor rose, divine!
And so, though born of heav'nly race,
The Cyclop', with his one-ey'd face,
Disgrac'd his sea-born line.

You scorn the false and fawning mind,
Where Art with deadly Malice join'd,
Delights to wither Fame!

As lifts the snake his painted crest,
And to the hospitable breast

Conveys his pois'nous flame.

The wretch who boasts a faithless heart;
The fool who acts a worthless part;
Or miser o'er his brood;
However dignified he be,
Is but a creeping slave to thee,

Though sprung of Cæsar's blood.

But oh! let those whom Learning owns, Apollo's and the Muses' sons,

Make unity their course:

Nor drop the tongue one wayward strain, To give another's bosom pain,

Or to our own remorse!

Continue Friendly, just, and kind,
Honour preserve, with candour join'd,
And fair protection lend;
Where modest worth thy favour sues,
Or genius qualifies the Muse,
To hope a gen'rous friend.

' Polyphemus.

Nor vain his arm-when, beaming from afar,
O'er the Columbrian sea he wak'd the war!
And calm in conquest bid Britannia reign,
Acknowledg'd sovereign of the distant main:
Then grateful Albion heard the happy sound,
The great avenger of her wrongs was found:
Each tongue rejoic'd the hero's praise to swell,
And infants learn'd how Porto-Bello fell.

Oh! would the fav'ring Muse my voice inspire,
To Vernon's worth to tune the sounding lyre,
With equal majesty the notes should rise,
Should animated reach the vaulted skies;
That future times might the resemblance see,
And Britons like their ancestors be free.

Great son of Freedom! still victorious shine, Thine be to conquer, and to save be thine: Let the pale ghosts that haunt the Indian shore, Delighted hear thy vengeful thunders roar, And to each other hail the promis'd hour, When Tyranny shall mourn her blasted pow'r: And righteous Freedom with her guardian smile Shall bless, returning, Cuba's fertile soil.

There while the British cross, to thee assign'd, Displays its forin, and wantons in the wind, May Victory her fairest laurels spread, To wait thy purpose, and to crown thy head: May no retarded succours give thee pain: Thy gen'rous warmth no arts of power restrain! Warm'd by thy virtue, let all hearts unite, Led by thy arm, let Britons learn to fight, Till taught to yield, and humbled in his turn, The proud Iberian shall his folly mourn; And curse the hour, when with his wanton dart He rous'd the gen'rous lion's noble heart.

Then, only then-(if Heav'n shall so ordain) When honourable peace his sword shall gain; A peace secur'd by terrour of our arms, (Not mean conventions, or precarious charms) When, dear to honour-to his country dear, Restor'd her Vernon shall again appear: As loud the peal of gratitude shall rise, And universal joy ascend the skies: As round his steps a thankful nation flows To hail his toils, and bless him as he goes! Then shall some happier bard, with nobler vein Record his actions, and embalm his name! "The honour paid to Vice in smoke decays, But Virtue purifies the flames of praise : From her chaste shrine she bids the incense rise, Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies."

LOCH RIAN.

TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF STAIR.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1734.

[Loch Rian is an arm of the sea which lies to the north-east, a little below Castle Kennedy, the seat of the earl of Stair. The Genius of this bay is supposed to address that nobleman.]

FROM toils of state and an unfaithful court,
Welcome, my lord, to your domestic port!
Here, seated on my hospitable shore,
In safety hear the distant tempest roar.
While gentler cares your future hours demand,
And Nature waits your all-improving hand';

The improvements at Castle Kennedy are very