Pope's heav'n-ftrung lyre, nor Waller's eafe, Instead of these, a formal band In furs and coifs around me ftand; 50 With founds uncouth and accents dry, That grate the foul of harmony, And points with tott'ring hand the ways 55 That lead me to the thorny maze? There, in a winding, clofe retreat, O let me pierce the secret shade 69 Where dwells the venerable maid! There humbly mark, with rev'rent awe, 65 The guardian of Britannia's Law, Unfold with joy her facred page, (Th' united boast of many an age, 70 And other doctrines thence imbibe Obferve how parts with parts unite Then welcome bufinefs, welcome ftrife, 75 80 Welcome the cares, the thorns of life, The vifage wan, the pore-blind fight, 85 The toil by day, the lamp at night, Thus though my noon of life be past, Yet let my fetting fun, at laft, 90 Find out the ftill, the rural cell, Where fage Retirement loves to dwell! There let me tafte the homefelt.bliss Of innocence, and inward peace; No orphan's cry to wound my ear; 95 100 THE TRIUMPH OF ISIS. OCCASIONED BY ISIS AN ELEGY. WRITTEN IN 1749. BY THOMAS WARTON THE YOUNGER, POET LAUREAT.* Quid mibi nefcio quam, proprio cum TYBRIDE, Romam Semper in ore geris? Referunt fi vera parentes, Hanc Urbem infano Nullus qui Marte petivit, Latatus violaffe redit. Nec Numina Sedem Deftituunt. CLAUDIAN. ON clofing flowers when genial gales diffuse • Born 1728; dyed 1790. 5 When lo! from opening clouds a golden gleam Pour'd fudden splendors o'er the fhadowy stream; And from the wave arofe its guardian queen, Known by her sweeping ftole of gloffy green; While in the coral crown, that bound her brow, Was wove the Delphic laurel's verdant bough. As the smooth surface of the dimply flood The filver-flipper'd virgin lightly trod, From her loose hair the dropping dew she press'd, And thus mine ear in accents mild addrefs'd. 20 No more, my fon, the rural reed employ, Nor trill the tinkling ftrain of empty joy; No more thy love-refounding fonnets fuit To notes of pastoral pipe or oaten flute. For hark! high-thron'd on yon majestic walls, To the dear Mufe afflicted Freedom calls: When Freedom calls, and Oxford bids thee fing, 25 Why stays thy hand to ftrike the founding ftring? While thus, in Freedom's and in Phebus' spite, The venal fons of flavish CAM unite; To shake yon towers when Malice rears her crest, Shall all my fons in filence idly rest? 30 Still fing, O CAM, your favorite Freedom's caufe; Still boaft of Freedom, while you break her laws: To power your fongs of Gratulation pay, To courts addrefs foft flattery's fervile lay. What' though your gentle MASON's plaintive verse Has hung with fweeteft wreaths Museus' herse; 40 What though your vaunted bard's ingenuous woe, Be her's each prelate of the pamper'd cheek, 45 50 55 Nor dare to know the patriot from the peer; |