And now the world unrivall'd they enjoy'd
In proud fecurity: the crefted helm,
The plated greave and corfelet hung unbrac'd;
Nor clank'd their arms, the fpear and founding fhield,
But on the glitt'ring trophy to the wind.
Diffolv'd in ease and soft delight they lie,
'Till every fun annoys, and every wind
Has chilling force, and every rain offends :
For now the frame no more is girt with strength
Masculine, nor in luftiness of heart
Laughs at the winter ftorm, and fummer beam,
Superior to their rage: enfeebling vice
Withers each nerve, and opens every pore
To painful feeling: flow'ry how'rs they seek
(As æther prompts, as the fick fense approves)
Or cool Nymphean grots; or tepid baths
(Taught by the soft Ionians) they, along
The lawny vale, of every beauteous ftone,
Pile in the roseat air with fond expence :
Through filver channels glide the vagrant waves,
And fall on filver beds cryftalline down,
Melodious murmuring; while luxury
Over their naked limbs, with wanton hand,
Sheds roses, odours, sheds unheeded bane.
Swift is the flight of wealth; unnumber'd wants, Brood of volupt'oufnefs, cry out aloud
Neceffity, and feek the fplendid bribe.
The citron board, the bowl emboss'd with gems,
And tender foliage wildly wreath'd around
Of seeming ivy, by that artful hand,
Corinthian Thericles; whate'er is known
Of rareft acquifition; Tyrian garbs,
Neptunian Albion's high teftaceous food,
And flavour'd Chian wines with incense fum'd
To flake Patrician thirft: for thefe, their rights
In the vile ftreets they proftitute to fale;
Their ancient rights, their dignities, their laws,
Their native glorious freedom. Is there none,
Is there no villain, that will bind the neck
Stretch'd to the yoke? they come; the market throngs.
But who has most by fraud or force amass'd ?
Who most can charm corruption with his doles?
He be the monarch of the ftate; and lo!
Didius, vile us'rer, through the crowd he mounts",
Beneath his feet the Roman eagle cow'rs,
And the red arrows fill his grasp uncouth.
O Britons, O my countrymen, beware,
Gird, gird your hearts; the Romans once were free,
Were brave, were virtuous.-Tyranny howe'er
Deign'd to walk forth awhile in pageant ftate,
And with licentious pleafures fed the rout,
The thoughtless many to the wanton found
Of fifes and drums they danc'd, or in the shade
Sung Cæfar, great and terrible in war,
Didius Julianus, who bought the empire.
Immortal Cæfar! lo, a God, a God,
He cleaves the yielding skies! Cæfar mean while
Gathers the ocean pebbles; or the gnat
Enrag'd purfues; or at his lonely meal
Starves a wide province; taftes, dislikes, and flings
To dogs and fycophants: a God, a God!
The flow'ry shades and shrines obscene return.
But fee along the north the tempest swell
O'er the rough Alps, and darken all their fnows!
Sudden the Goth and Vandal, dreaded names,
Rufh as the breach of waters, whelming all
Their domes, their villa's; down the feftive piles,
Down fall their Parian porches, gilded baths,
And roll before the ftorm in clouds of duft.
Vain end of human ftrength, of human skill,
Conqueft, and triumph, and domain, and pomp,
And ease and luxury! O luxury,
Bane of elated life, of affluent states,
What dreary change, what ruin is not thine?
How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind!
To the foft entrance of thy rofy cave
How doft thou lure the fortunate and great!
Dreadful attraction! while behind thee gapes
Th' unfathomable gulph where Afhur lies
O'erwhelm'd, forgotten; and high-boasting Cham;
And Elam's haughty pomp; and beauteous Greece;
And the great queen of earth, imperial ROME.
By WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Efq;
Audita voces, vagitus & ingens,
Infantumque anima flentes in Limine primo.
What particulars in Spenfer were imagin'd most proper for the Author's imitation on this occafion, are his language, his fimplicity, his manner of defcription, and a peculiar tenderness of fentiment remarkable throughout his works.
H me! full forely is my heart forlorn,
To think how modest worth neglected lies ; While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise;
Deeds of ill fort, and mischievous emprize!
Lend me thy clarion, goddefs! let me try
To found the praise of merit, ere it dies ;
Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,
Loft in the dreary shades of dull obscurity.
In every village mark'd with little spire,
Embow'r'd in trees, and hardly known to Fame,
There dwells, in lowly fhed, and mean attire,
A matron old whom we school-mistress name;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame.
They grieven fore, in piteous durance pent,
Aw'd by the pow'r of this relentless dame ;
And oft-times on vagaries idly bent,
For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are forely fhent.
III.
And all in fight doth rise a birchen tree,
Which Learning near her little dome did ftowe ;
Whilom a twig of fmall regard to fee,
Though now fo wide its waving branches flow;
And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe;
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew,
But their limbs fhudder'd, and their pulse beat low;
And, as they look'd, they found their horror grew,
And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.
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