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tocles, describes the sea-fights of Artemisium and Salamis.

Ver. 204. Thyrsus.] A staff, or spear, wreathed round with ivy: of constant use in the bacchanalian mysteries. Ver. 227. Io Paan.] An exclamation of victory and triumph, derived from Apollo's encounter with Python.

Ver. 252. Cirrha.] One of the summits of Par

fountains, said to be frequented by the Muses.
Nysa, the other eminence of the same mountain,
was dedicated to Bacchus.
Ver. 265.
charm the mind of gods.] This
whole passage, concerning the effects of sacred
music among the gods, is taken from Pindar's first
Pythian ode.

.........

Ver. 83. Amalthea.] The mother of the first Bacchus, whose birth and education was written, as Diodorus Siculus informs us, in the old Pelasgic character, by Thymates, grandson to Laomedon, and contemporary with Orpheus. Thymotes had travelled over Libya to the country which borders on the western ocean; there he saw the island of Nysa, and learned from the inhabitants, that " Ammon, king of Libya, was married in former ages to Rhea, sister of Saturn and the Titans: that he after-nassus, and sacred to Apollo. Near it were several wards fell in love with a beautiful virgin, whose name was Amalthea; had by her a son, and gave her possession of a neighbouring tract of land, wonderfully fertile; which in shape nearly resembling the horn of an ox, was thence called the Hesperian horn, and afterwards the horn of Amalthea: that, fearing the jealousy of Rhea, he concealed the young Bacchus, with his mother, in the island of Nysa;" the beauty of which, Diodorus describes with great dignity and pomp of style. This fable is one of the noblest in all the ancient mythology, and seems to have made a particular impression on the imagination of Milton; the only modern poet (unless perhaps it be necessary to except Spenser) who, in these mysterious traditions of the poetic story, had a heart to feel, and words to express, the simple and solitary genius of antiquity. To raise the idea of his Paradise, he prefers it

even to

that Nysean isle

Girt by the river Triton, where old Cham,
(Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove)
Hid Amalthea, and her florid son,
Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.

Ver. 297.

Phrygian pipe's.] The Phrygian music was fantastic and turbulent, and fit to excite disorderly passions. Ver. 302.

The gates where Pallas holds

The guardian key.] It was the office of Minerva to be the guardian of walled cities; whence she was named ΠΟΛΙΑΣ and ΠΟΛΙΟΥΧΟΣ, and had her statues placed in their gates, being supposed to keep the keys; and on that account styled KAHAOTXOE. Ver. 310. fate

Of sober Pentheus.] Pentheus was torn in pieces by the bacchanaliau priests and women, for despising their mysteries. Ver. 318.

the cave

Corycian.] Of this cave Pausanias, in his tenth book, gives the following description: "between Delphi and the eminences of Parnassus, in a road to the grotto of Corycium, which has its name from the nymph Corycia, and is by far the most remarkable which I have seen. One may walk a great way into it without a torch. It is of a con

Ver. 94. Edonian band.] The priestesses and other ministers of Bacchus; so called from Edonus, a mountain of Thrace, where his rights were cele-siderable height, and hath several springs within it;

brated.

Ver. 105. When Hermes.] Hermes, or Mercury, was the patron of commerce; in which benevolent character be is addressed by the author of the Indigitamenta, in these beautiful lines:

Ερμήνευ πάντων, κερλέμπορε, λυσιμέριμνες
Ὃς χειρίσθιν ἔχεις εἰρήνης ὅπλον ἀμέμφες.

Ver. 121. Dispense the mineral treasure.] The merchants of Sidon and Tyre made frequent voyages to the coast of Cornwall, from whence they carried home great quantities of tin.

Ver. 136. Hath he not won.] Mercury, the patron of commerce, being so greatly dependent on the good offices of the Naiads, in return obtains for them the friendship of Minerva, the goddess of war; for military power, at least the naval part of it, hath constantly followed the establishment of trade; which exemplifies the preceding observation, that "from bounty issueth power." Ver. 143.

and yet a much greater quantity of water distills from the shell and roof, so as to be continually dropping on the ground. The people round Parnassus hold it sacred to the Corycian nymphs and to Pan."

Ver. 519. .... Delphic mount.] Delphi, the seat and oracle of Apollo, had a mountainous and rocky situation, on the skirts of Parnassus.

Ver. 327. Cyrenaic.] Cyrene was the native country of Callimachus, whose hymns are the most. remarkable example of that mythological passion which is assumed in the preceding poem, and have. always afforded particular pleasure to the author of it, by reason of the mysterious solemnity with which they affect the mind. On this account he was induced to attempt somewhat in the same manner; solely by way of exercise: the manner itself being now almost entirely abandoned in poetry. And as the mere genealogy, or the personal adventures of heathen gods, could have been but little interesting to a modern reader; it was therefore thought proper to select some convenient part of the history of Nature, and to employ these ancient bay of Biscay. divinities as it is probable they were first employed; Ver. 150. Egina's gloomy surge.] Near this to wit, in personifying natural causes, and in repreisland, the Athenians obtained the victory of Sala-senting the mutual agreement or opposition of the mis, over the Persian navy.

Calpe

Cantabrian surge.] Gibraltar and the

corporeal and moral powers of the world: which Xerves saw. This circum- hath been accounted the very highest office of

Ver. 160. stance is recorded in that passage, perhaps the most splendid among all the remains of ancient history, where Plutarch, in his Life of Themis

poetry.

126

INSCRIPTIONS.

I.

FOR A GROTTO.

To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call
Actæa, daughter of the neighbouring stream,
This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine,
Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot,
Where plac'd by Glycon. He with cowslips pale,
Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green
Before my threshold, and my shelving walls
Here at noon,
With honeysuckle covered.

Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount,
I slumber: here my clustering fruits I tend:
Or from my humid flowers, at break of day,
Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds
Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in,
O stranger! undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad
Here lurks: and if thy breast of blameless thoughts
Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread
My quiet mansion: chiefly, if thy name
Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own.

II. FOR A

STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK.
SUCH was old Chaucer. Such the placid mien
Of him who first with harmony inform'd
The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt
For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls
Have often heard him, while his legends blithe
He sang, of love, or knighthood, or the wiles
Of homely life: through each estate and age,
The fashions and the follies of the world
With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance
From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come
Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain
Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold
To him, this other hero; who, in times
Dark and untaught, began with charining verse
To tame the rudeness of his native land.

With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care,
Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold,
And nuptial pomp, which lur'd her plighted faith
From Edmund to a loftier husband's home,
Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside
The strokes of Death. Go, traveller; relate
The mournful story. Haply some fair maid
May hold it in remembrance, and be taught
That riches cannot pay for truth or love.

IV.

O YOUTHS and virgins: O declining eld:
O pale Misfortune's slaves: O, ye who dwell
Unknown with humble Quiet; ye who wait
In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings:
O sons of Sport and Pleasure; O thou wretch
That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds
of conscious Guilt, or Death's rapacious hand
Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam
In exile; ye who through the embattled field
Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms
Contend, the leaders of a public cause;
Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not
The features? Hath not oft his faithful tongue
Told you the fashion of your own estate,
The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round
His monument with reverence while ye stand,
Say to each other: "This was Shakspeare's form:
Who walk'd in every path of human life.
Felt every passion; and to all mankind
Doth now, will ever, that experience yield
Which his own genius only could acquire."

V.

GULIELMVS 111. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE

AETATE PATRIÆ LABENTI ADFVISSET SALVS IPSE VNICA:

CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICA BRITANNICE VINDEX RE-
NVNCIATVS ESSET ATQUE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE
NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE
DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA,
AVCTORI PVBLICE FELICITATIS P. G.
GENERIS HVMANI.
A. M. A..

III.

WHOE'ER thou art whose path, in summer, lies
Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove
Of branching oaks a rural palace old
Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord
Of all the harvest round. And onward thence
A low plain chapel fronts the morning light
Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk,
O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground;
And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest
Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand
Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew
Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest,
The learned shepherd; for each rural art
Fam'd, and for songs harmonious, and the woes
Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride
Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave

In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven

VI.

FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE.

THOU, who the verdant plain dost traverse here
While Thames among his willows from thy view
Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene
Around contemplate well. This is the place
Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms
And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king
(Then rendered tame) did challenge and secure
The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on
Till thou hast blest their memory, and paid
Those thanks which God appointed the reward
And if chance thy home
Of public virtue.
Salute thee with a father's honour'd name,
Go, call thy sons: instruct them what a debt
They owe their ancestors; and make them swear
To pay it, by transmitting down entire
Those sacred rights to which themselves were born.

VIL

THE WOOD-NYMPH.

APPROACH in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale
Which I, the Driad of this hoary oak,
Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age
Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose

On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale
Are all my offspring: and each Nymph, who guards
The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond,
Obeys me. Many changes have I seen
In human things, and many awful deeds
Of Justice, when the ruling hand of Jove
Against the tyrants of the land, against
The unhallow'd sons of Luxury and Guile,
Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length
Expert in laws divine, I know the paths
Of Wisdom, and erroneous Folly's end
Have oft presag'd: and now well-pleas'd I wait
Each evening till a noble youth, who loves
My shade, a while releas'd from public cares,
Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down
Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind
I prompt, unseen; and place before his view
Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart
With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme
Of gods and men, with Freedom's generous deeds,
The lofty voice of Glory, and the faith
Of sacred Friendship. Stranger, I have told
My function. If within thy bosom dwell

Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not
Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear
A sparing benediction from thy tongue.

VIII.

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Ye powers unseen, to whom the bards of Greece
Erected altars; ye who to the mind
More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart
With more divine emotions; if erewhile
Not quite unpleasing have my votive rites
Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat
To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe
Here with your instant energy to crown
My happy solitude. It is the hour
When most I love to invoke you, and have felt
Most frequent your glad ministry divine.
The air is calm: the Sun's unveiled orb
Shines in the middle Heaven. The harvest round
Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves
The reapers lie reclin'd. The neighbouring groves
Are mute; nor even a linnet's random strain
Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel
Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in Heaven
Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds
Pass ye from hill to hill? or on the shades
Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below
Do you converse retir'd? From what lov'd haunt
Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel
Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers!
And I will guard it well, nor shall a thought
Rise in my mind, nor shall a passion move
Across my bosom unobserv'd, unstor'd
By faithful memory. And then at some
More active moment will I call them forth
Anew; and join them in majestic forms,
And give them utterance in harmonious strains;
That all mankind shall wonder at your sway.

IX.

ME though in life's sequester'd vale The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, Remote from Glory's toilsome ways, And the great scenes of public praise; Yet let me still with grateful pride Remember how my infant frame And early music to my tongue supply'd. He temper'd with prophetic flame,

"Twas then my future fate he weigh'd: And, "This be thy concern," he said, "At ouce with Passion's keen alarms, And Beauty's pleasurable charms, And sacred Truth's eternal light, To move the various mind of man; Till under one unblemish'd plan, His reason, fancy, and his heart unite."

AN EPISTLE TO CURIO 1.

THRICE has the Spring beheld thy faded fame,
And the fourth Winter rises on thy shame,
Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell,
In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell;
Blest could my skill through ages make thee shine,
And proud to mix my memory with thine.
But now the cause that wak'd my song before,
With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more.
If to the glorious man, whose faithful cares,
Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years,
Had aw'd Ambition's wild audacious hate,
And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate;
If every tongue its large applauses ow'd,
And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd;
If public Justice urg'd the high reward,
And Freedom smii'd on the devoted bard:
Say then, to him whose levity or lust
Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust;
Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power,
And sav'd Corruption at her hopeless hour;
Does not each tongue its execrations owe?
Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow?
And public Justice sanctify the award?
And Freedom's hand protect th' impartial bard?

Curio was a young Roman senator of distinguished birth and parts, who, upon his first entrance into the forum, had been committed to the care of Cicero. Being profuse and extravagant, he soon dissipated a large and splendid fortune; to supply the want of which, he was driven to the necessity of abetting the designs of Cæsar against the liberties of his country, although he had before been a professed enemy to him.-Cicero exerted himself with great energy to prevent his ruin, but without effect, and he became one of the first victims in the civil war. This epistle was first published in the year 1744, when a celebrated patriot, after a long and at last a successful opposition to an unpopular minister, had deserted the cause of his country, and become the foremost in support and defence of the same measure he had so steadily and for such a length of time contended against. It was altered by the author into the Ode to Curio; but the original poem is too curious to be omitted. N.

Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, And wish'd and hop'd the light again would rise. But since thy guilt still more entire appears, Since no art hides, no supposition clears; Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, And the first rage of party-hate is past; Calm as the Judge of Truth, at length I come To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom: So may my trust from all reproach be free, And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree.

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There are who say they view'd without amaze
Thy sad reverse of all thy former praise;
That through the pageants of a patriot's name,
They pierc'd the foulness of thy secret aim;
Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw
The public thunder on a private foe.
But I, whose soul consented to thy cause,
Who felt thy genins stamp its own applause,
Who saw the spirits of each glorious age
Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage;
I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds,
The owl-ey'd race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds.
Spite of the learned in the ways of Vice,
And all who prove that each man has his price,
I still believ'd thy end was just and free;
And yet, even yet believe it-spite of thee.
Even though thy mouth impure has dar'd disclaim,
Urg'd by the wretched impotence of shame,
Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid
To laws infirm and liberty decay'd;
Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show;
Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe;'
Has boasted in thy country's awful ear,
Her gross delusion when she held thee dear;
How tamne she follow'd thy tempestuous call,
And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all-
Rise from your sad abodes, ye curst of old
For laws subverted, and for cities sold!
Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt,
The oaths you perjur'd, and the blood you spilt;
Yet must you one untempted vileness own,
One dreadful palm reserv'd for him alone:
With studied arts his country's praise to spurn,
To beg the infamy he did not earn,

To challenge hate when honour was his due,
And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew.
Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose
From each fair feeling human nature knows?
Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear
To all that reason, all that sense, would hear?
Else could'st thou e'er desert thy sacred post,
In such unthankful baseness to be lost?
Else could'st thou wed the emptiness of vice,
And yield thy glories at an idiot's price?

When they who, loud for liberty and laws,
In doubtful times had fought their country's cause,
When now of conquest and dominion sure,
They sought alone to hold their fruits secure;
When taught by these, Oppression hid the face
To leave Corruption stronger in her place,
By silent spells to work the public fate,
And taint the vitals of the passive state,
Till healing Wisdom should avail no more,
And Freedom loath to tread the poison'd shore;
Then, like some guardian god that flies to save
The weary pilgrim from an instant grave,
Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake
Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake;

Then Curio rose to ward the public woe,
To wake the heedless, and incite the slow,
Against Corruption, Liberty to arm,
And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm.
Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew,
And with the country's hopes thy honours grew.
Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd :
Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd;
Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds;
The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns;
Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires,
To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires;
The learn'd recluse, who oft amaz'd had read
Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead,
With new amazement hears a living name
Pretend to share in such forgotten fame;
And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways,
Left the tame track of these dejected days,
The life of nobler ages to renew

In virtues sacred from a monarch's view,
Rouz'd by thy labours from the blest retreat,
Where social ease and public passions meet,
Again ascending treads the civil scene,
To act and be a man, as thou hadst been.

Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew,
And the great end appear'd at last in view:
We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice;
We saw the senate bending to thy voice;
The friends of Freedom hail'd the approaching reig
Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain;
While venal Faction, struck with new dismay,
Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay.
Wak'd in the shock, the public Genius rose,
Abash'd and keener from his long repose;
Sublime in ancient pride, he rais'd the spear
Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear:
The city felt his call: from man to man,
From street to street, the glorious horrour ran;
Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power
And, murmuring, challeng'd the deciding hour.

Lo! the deciding hour at last appears;
The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears!
Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name,
O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame!
Instruct the mighty moments as they roll,
And guide each movement steady to the goal.
Ye Spirits, by whose providential art
Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart,
Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind,
And watch his fancy, and his passions bind!
Ye Shades immortal, who, by Freedom led,
Or in the field, or on the scaffold bled,

Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye,
And view the crown of all your labours nigh.
See Freedom mounting her eternal throne!
The sword submitted, and the laws her own:
See! public Power, chastis'd, beneath her stands,
With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands!
See private life by wisest arts reclaim'd!
See ardent youth to noblest manners fram'd!
See us acquire whate'er was sought by you,
If Curio, only Curio, will be true.

'Twas then-O shame! O trust how ill repaid!
O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd!-
'Twas then-what frenzy on thy reason stole?
What spells unsinew'd thy determin'd soul?
-Is this the man in Freedom's cause approv'd?
The man so great, so honour'd, so belov❜d?
This patient slave by tinsel chains allur'd?
This wretched suitor for a boon abjur'd?

This Curio, hated and despis'd by all? Who fell himself, to work his country's fall? O lost, alike to action and repose! Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes! With all that conscious, undissembled pride, Sold to the insults of a foe defy'd! With all that habit of familiar fame, Doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame! The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art, To act a statesman's dull exploded part, Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, Display thy virtue, though without a dower, Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, And shut thy eyes that others may be blind. -Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile When shameless mouths your majesty defile, Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew, And cast their own impieties on you. For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred power My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest hour, How have I stood exulting, to survey My country's virtues opening in thy ray! How, with the sons of every foreign shore The more I match'd them, honour'd her's the more! O race erect! whose native strength of soul, Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws control, Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, And seeks a nobler centre for its cares; Intent the laws of life to comprehend, And fix dominion's limits by its end. Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, By conscious reason judging every state, The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise: Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, Or, all awake at Pity's soft command,

Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand:
Thence large of heart, from envy far remov'd,
When public toils to virtue stand approv'd,
Not the young lover fonder to admire,
Nor more indulgent the delighted sire;
Yet high and jealous of their free-born name,
Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame,
Where'er Oppression works her wanton sway,
Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay.
But if, to purchase Curio's sage applause,
My country must with him renounce her cause,
Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod,
Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod;
Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail,
Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail :
Else, ere he change the style, bear me away
To where the Gracchi 2, where the Bruti stay!
O long rever'd, and late resign'd to shame!
If this uncourtly page thy notice claim
When the loud cares of business are withdrawn,
Nor well-drest beggars round thy footsteps fawn;
In that still, thoughtful, solitary hour,
When Truth exerts her unresisted power,
Breaks the false optics ting'd with Fortune's glare,
Unlocks the breast, and lays the passions bare;
Then turn thy eyes on that important scene,
And ask thyself-if all be well within.

Where is the heartfelt worth and weight of soul,
Which labour could not stop, nor fear control?

* The two brothers, Tiberius and Caius Gracchus, lest their lives in attempting to introduce the only regulation that could give stability and good order VOL. XIV.

Where the known dignity, the stamp of awe, Which, half abash'd, the proud and venal saw? Where the calm triumphs of an honest cause? Where the delightful taste of just applause? Where the strong reason, the commanding tongue, On which the senate fir'd or trembling bung? All vanish'd, all are sold-and in their room, Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, distracted gloom, See the pale form of barbarous Grandeur dwell, Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell! To her in chains thy dignity was led; At her polluted shrine thy honour bled; With blasted weeds thy awful brow she crown'd, Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters bound, That baffled Reason straight indignant flew, And fair Persuasion from her seat withdrew: For now no longer Truth supports thy cause; No longer Glory prompts thee to applause; No longer Virtue breathing in thy breast, With all her conscious majesty confest, Still bright and brighter wakes the almighty flame, To rouse the feeble, and the wilful tame, And where she sees the catching glimpses roll, Spreads the strong blaze, and all involves the soul; But cold restraints thy conscious fancy chill, And formal passions mock thy struggling will; Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain, And reach impatient at a nobler strain, Soon the sad bodings of contemptuous mirth Shoot through thy breast, and stab the generous

birth,

Till, blind with smart, from Truth to Frenzy tost,
And all the tenour of thy reason lost,
Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear;
While some with pity, some with laughter hear.
-Can Art, alas! or Genius, guide the head,

Where Truth and Freedom from the heart are

fled?

Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke,
When the prime function of the soul is broke?

But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend;
Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a friend;
Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine,
Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign;
For see the hand of Destiny display'd
To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd!
See the dire fane of Infamy arise!

Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies; Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train, The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. Eternal barriers guard the pathless road To warn the wanderer of the curst abode; But prone as whirlwinds scour the passive sky, The heights surmounted, down the steep they fly. There, black with frowns, relentless Time awaits, And goads their footsteps to the guilty gates: And still he asks them of their unknown aims, Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims; And still his hands despoil them on the road Of each vain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, Break their proud marbles, crush their festal cars, And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. At last the gates his potent voice obey; Fierce to their dark abode he drives his prey, Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chaius, The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns,

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