Where ever-dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of stale profession's froth!
And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,
Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth.

STROPIIE. In Fortune's car behold that minion ride, With either India's glittering spoils opprest : So moves the sumpler-mule, in harness'd pride, That bears the treasure which he cannot taste. For him let venal bards disgraco the bay, And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string; Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay; And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ring; Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread shall intervene ; And Nature still to all her feelings just, In vengeance hang a damp on every scene, Shook from the baleful pinions of Disgust.

ANTISTROPHIE Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts By mountain, meadow, streamlet. grove, or cell, Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chants, And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell. There Study shall with Solitude recline; And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-swains; And Toil and Temperance sedately twine The slender cord that fluttering life sustains · And fearless Poverty shall guard the door; And Taste unspoil'd the frugal table spread; And Industry supply the humble store; And Sleep unbrib'd his dews refreshing shed . White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite, Shall chase far off the goblins of the night; And Independence o'er the day preside, Propitious power! my patron and my pride

[ocr errors]


GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON, born at Hagley, in In 1741, he married Lucy, the daughter of Hugla Jan. 1708-9, was the eldest son of Sir Thomas Fortescue, Esq. a lady for whom he entertained the Lyttelton, Bart. of the same place. He received purest affection, and with whom he lived in unabated his early education at Eton, whence he was sent to conjugal harmony. Her death in child-bed, in 1747 Christ-church College, in Oxford. In both of these was lamented by him in a "Monody," which stands places he was distinguished for classical literature, prominent among his poetical works, and displays and some of his poems which we have borrowed were much natural feeling, amidst the more elaborate the fruits of his juvenile studies. In his nineteenth strains of a poet's imagination. So much may year, he set out on a tour to the Continent; and suffice respecting his productions of this class, which some of the letters which he wrote during this ab- are distinguished by the correctness of their versifisence to his father are pleasing proofs of his sound cation, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy principles, and his unreserved confidence in a vene- of their sentiments. His miscellaneous pieces, and rated parent. He also wrote a poetical epistle to his History of Henry II., the last the work of his Dr. Ayscough, his Oxford tutor, which is one of the age, have each their appropriate merits, but may best of his works. On his return from abroad, he here be omitted. was chosen representative in parliament for the The death of his father, in 1751, produced his borough of Oakhampton; and being warmed with succession to the title and a large estate ; and his that patriotic ardor which rarely fails to inspire the taste for rural ornament rendered Hagley one of bosom of an ingenuous youth, he became a distin- the most delightful residences in the kingdom. At guished partisan of opposition-politics, whilst his the dissolution of the ministry, of which he comfather was a supporter of the ministry, then ranged posed a part, in 1759, he was rewarded with elevaunder the banners of Walpole. When Frederic tion to the peerage, by the style of Baron Lyttelton Prince of Wales, having quarrelled with the court, of Frankley, in the county of Worcester. He formed a separate court of his own, in 1737, Lyt-died of a lingering disorder, which he bore with telton was appointed secretary to the Prince, with pious resignation, in August 1773, in the 64th year an advanced salary. At this time Pope bestowed of his age. his praise upon our patriot in an animated couplet :

Free as young Lyttelton her cause pursue,
Still true to virtue, and as warm as true.

Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing, THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.

of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing

Wilt thou with me revisit once again

The crystal fountain, and the flowery plain ?

Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verse relate 1. Uncertainty. To Mr. Pope.

The various changes of a lover's state; 2. Hope. To the Hon. George Doddington.

And, while each turn of passion I pursue, 3. Jealousy. To Edward Walpole, Esq. 4. Possession. To the Right Hon. the Lord Viscount

Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true?

To the green margin of a lonely wood,

Whose pendent shades o'erlook'd a silver flood,
Young Damon came, unknowing where he stray'd

Full of the image of his beauteous maid :

His flock, far off, unfed, untended, lay,

To every savage a defencelemey;

No sense of interest could their master move,

And every care seem'd trifling now but love. TO MR. POPE.

Awhile in pensive silence he remain'd, POPE, to whose reed beneath the beachen shade, But, though his voice was mute, his looks comThe nymphs of Thames a pleas'd attention paid;

plain'd; While yet thy Muse, content with humbler praise, At length the thoughts, within his bosom pent, Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays ; Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent

“Ye nymphs," he cried, “ye Dryads, who so long Have favor'd Damon, and inspir'd his song ;

For whom, retir'd, I shun the gay resorts

Of sportful cities, and of pom pous courts;
In vain I bid the restless world adieu,

TO MR. DODDINGTON, AFTERWARDS LORD To seek tranquillity and peace with you.

MELCOMBE REGIS. Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage No factions here can form, no wars can wage: HEAR, Doddington, the notes that shepherds sing, Though Envy frowns not on your humble shades, Like those that warbling hail the genial Spring. Nor Calumny your innocence invades :

Nor Pan, nor Phæbus, tunes our artless reeds: Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast, From Love alone their melody proceeds. Too often violates your boasted rest;

From Love, Theocritus, on Enna's plains, With inbred storms disturbs your calm retreat, Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains. And taints with bitterness each rural sweet. Young Maro, touch'd by his inspiring dart,

“Ah, luckless day! when first with fond surprise Could charm each ear, and soften every heart : On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes!

Me too his power has reach'd, and bids with thine Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost, . My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join. Then reason, liberty, at once were lost :

Damon no longer sought the silent shade, And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone, No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd, But what my heart employ'd on her alone.

But call'd the swains to hear his jocund song, Then too she smild: can smiles our peace destroy. And told his joy to all the rural throng. ' Those lovely children of Content and Joy?

“Blest be the hour," he said, “ that happy hour, How can soft pleasure and tormenting woe

When first I own'd my Delia's gentle power; From the same spring at the same moment flow?

Then gloomy discontent and pining care Unhappy boy! these vain inquiries cease,

Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there; Thought could not guard, nor will restore, thy peace:

Soft wishes there they left, and gay desires, Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure,

Delightful languors, and transporting fires. And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to cure. Where yonder limes combine to form a shad

shade, Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart These eyes first gaz'd upon thie charming maid : How kind she was, and with what pleasing art

There she appear'd, on that auspicious day, She strove its fondest wishes to obtain,

When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay: Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain. She led the dance-Heavens! with what grace she If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band;

moy'd! To me alone she gave her willing hand :

Who could have seen her then, and not have lov'd ? Her partial taste, if e'er I touch'd the lyre, I strove not to resist so sweel a flame, Still in my song found something to admire. But gloried in a happy captive's name; By none but her my crook with flowers was crown'd. Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free, By none but her my brows with ivy bound : But leave to brutes their savage liberty. The world, that Damon was her choice, believ'd, "And art thou then, fond youth, secure of joy? The world, alas! like Damon, was deceiv'd.

Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy? When last I saw her, and declar'd my fire

Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store? In words as soft as passion could inspire,

Or hast thou never prov'd his fatal power? Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew, Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu.

cheek? The frighted hind, who sees his ripen'd corn Why sigh'd thy heart as if it strove to break? Up from the roots by sudden tempests torn,

Why were the desert rocks invok'd to hear Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted lie, The plaintive accent of thy sad despair? Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I.

From Delia's rigor all those pains arose, Ah, how have I deserv'd, inhuman maid,

Delia, who now compassionates my woes, To have my faithful service thus repaid ?

Who bids me hope ; and in that charming word
Were all the marks of kindness I receivid, Has peace and transport to my soul restor’d.
But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd ? “Begin, my pipe, begin the gladsome lay;
Or did you only nurse my growing love,

A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay;
That with more pain I might your hatred prove? A kiss obtain'd 'twixt struggling and consent,
Sure guilty treachery no place could find

Given with forc'd anger, and disguis'd content. In such a gentle, such a generous mind :

No laureate wreaths I ask, to bind my brows,
A maid, brought up the woods and wilds among Such as the Muse on lofty bards bestows:
Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts so young : Let other swains to praise or fame aspire ;
No; let me rather think her anger feign'd,

I from her lips my recompense require.
Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd;

"Why stays my Delia in her secret bower? 'Twas only modesty that seem'd disdain,

Light gales have chas'd the late impending shower And her heart suffer'd when she gave me pain." Th' emerging Sun more bright his beams extends Pleas'd with this flattering thought, the love-sick Oppos’d, its beauteous arch the rainbow bends! boy

Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay: Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy;

The birds renew their songs on every spray! Back to his flock more cheerful he return'd, Come forth, my love, thy shepherd's joys to crown When now the setting Sun more fiercely burn'd, All nature smiles.-Will only Delia frown? Blue vapors rose along the mazy rills,

"Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills. While every flower of every sweet they drain :

See, how beneath yon hillock's shady steep, Here, half-conceal'd in trees, a cottage stands, The shelter'd herds on flowery couches sleep: A castle there the opening plain commands; Nor bees, nor herds, are half so blest as I,

Beyond, a town with glittering spires is crown'd, If with my fond desires my love comply;

And distant hills the wide horizon bound : From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows,

So charming was the scene, awhile the swain And on her bosom dwells more soft repose. Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain :

"Ah! how, my dear, shall I deserve thy charms ? But soon the stings infix'd within his heart What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ? With cruel force renew'd their raging smart: A bird for thee in silken bands I hold,

His flowery wreath, which long with pride he wore, Whose yellow plumage shines like polish'd gold; The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore, From distant isles the lovely stranger came, Then cried, " May all thy charms, ungrateful maid, And bears the fortunate Canaries' name;

Like these neglected roses, droop and fade! In all our woods none boasts so sweet a note, May angry Heaven deform each guilty grace, Not ev'n the nightingale's melodious throat. That triumphs now in that deluding face! Accept of this; and could I add beside

Those alter'd looks may every shepherd fly, What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide: And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I! If all the gems in eastern rocks were mine,

"Say, thou inconstant, what has Damon done, On thee alone their glittering pride should shine. To lose the heart his tedious pains had won ? But, if thy mind no gifts have power to move, Tell me what charms you in my rival find, Phæbus himself shall leave th' Aonian grove: Against whose power no ties have strength to bind ? The tuneful Nine, who never sue in vain,

Has he, like me, with long obedience strove Shall come sweet suppliants for their favorite To conquer your disdain, and merit love? swain.

Has he with transport every smile ador'd, For him each blue-ey'd Naiad of the flood, And died with grief at each ungentle word ? For him each green-hair'd sister of the wood, Ah, no! the conquest was obtain'd with ease; Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray He pleas'd you, by not studying to please : His music calls to dance the night away.

His careless indolence your pride alarm'd; And you, fair nymphs, companions of my love, And, had he lov'd you more, he less had charm'd. With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove, "O pain to think! another shall possess I beg you recommend my faithful flame,

Those balmy lips which I was wont to press : And let her often hear her shepherd's name: Another on her panting breast shall lie, Shade all my faults from her inquiring sight, And catch sweet madness from her swimming eye! And show my merits in the fairest light:

I saw their friendly flocks together feed, My pipe your kind assistance shall repay,

I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead: And every friend shall claim a different lay. Would my clos'd eye had sunk in endless night,

“But see! in yonder glade the heavenly fair Ere I was doom'd to bear that hateful sight! Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air

Where'er they pass'd, be blasted every flower, Ah, thither let me fly with eager feet;

And hungry wolves their helpless flocks devour! Adieu, my pipe; I go my love to meet

Ah, wretched swain, could no examples move O, may I find her as we parted last,

Thy heedless heart to shun the rage of love?
And may each future hour be like the past ! Hast thou not heard how poor Menalcas died
So shall the whitest lamb these pastures feed, A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride?
Propitious Venus, on thy altars bleed.

Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain,
Loy'd by the nymphs, by Phoebus loy'd in vain :
Around his tomb their tears the Muses paid;

And all things mourn'd, but the relentless maid.

Would I could die like him, and be at peace! ECLOGUE III.

These torments in the quiet grave would cease ;

There my vex'd thoughts a calm repose would find,

And rest, as if my Delia still were kind.
THE gods, O Walpole, give no bliss sincere ; No, let me live, her falsehood to upbraid :
Wealth is disturb'd by.care, and power by fear : Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid.-
Of all the passions that employ the mind,

Alas! what aid, fond swain, wouldst thou receive? In gentle love the sweetest joys we find :

Could thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve? Yet ev'n those joys dire Jealousy molests,

Protect her, Heaven! and let her never know And blackens each fair image in our breasts. The slightest part of hapless Damon's woe: O may the warmth of thy too tender heart I ask no vengeance from the powers above; Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venom'd dart! All I implore is never more to love.For thy own quiet, think thy mistress just,

Let me this fondness from my bosom tear, And wisely take thy happiness on trust.

Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair. Begin, my Muse, and Damon's woes rehearse, Come, cool Indifference, and heal my breast; In wildest numbers and disorder'd verse.

Wearied, at length, I seek thy downy rest :
On a romantic mountain's airy head

No turbulence of passion shall destroy
(While browsing goats at ease around him fed) My future case with flattering hopes of joy.
Anxious he lay, with jealous cares opprest; Hear, mighty Pan, and, all ye sylvans, hear
Distrust and anger laboring in his breast-

What by your guardian deities I swear;
The vale beneath a pleasing prospect yields No more my eyes shall view her fatal charme,
Of verdant meads and cultivated fields;

No more I'll court the traitress to my arms: Through these a river rolls its winding flood, Not all her arts my steady soul shall move, Adorn'd with various tufts of rising wood; And she shall find that reason conquers love!.

Scarce had he spoke, when through the lawn below On all her days let health and peace attend; Alone he saw the beauteous Delia go;

May she ne'er want, nor ever lose, a friend ! At once transported, he forgot his vow,

May some new pleasure every hour employ: Such perjuries the laughing gods allow!)

But let her Damon be her highest joy! Down the steep hills with ardent haste he flew; “With thee, my love, for ever will I stay, He found her kind, and soon believ'd her true. All night caress thee, and admire all day;

In the same field our mingled flocks we'll feed, POSSESSION.

To the same spring our thirsty heifers lead,

Together will we share the harvest toils,

Together press the vine's autumnal spoils.

Delightful state, where Peace and Love combine,

To bid our tranquil days unclouded shine! COBHAM, to thee this rural lay I bring,

Here limpid fountains roll through flowery meads, Whose guiding judgment gives me skill to sing: Here rising forests lift their verdant heads; Though far unequal to those polish'd strains,

Here let me wear my careless life away, With which thy Congreve charm'd the listening

And in thy arms insensibly decay. plains :

“When late old age our heads shall silver o'er Yet shall its music please thy partial ear,

And our slow pulses dance with joy no more; And soothe thy breast with thoughts that once were When Time no longer will thy beauties spare, dear;

And only Damon's eye shall think thee fair; Recall those years which Time has thrown behind, Then may the gentle hand of welcome Death, When smiling Love with Honor shar'd thy mind : At one soft stroke, deprive us both of breath! When all thy glorious days of prosperous fight May we beneath one common stone be laid, Delighted less than one successful night.

And the same cypress both our ashes shade! The sweet remembrance shall thy youth restore, Perhaps some friendly Muse, in tender verse Fancy again shall run past pleasures o'er;

Shall deign our faithful passion to rehearse
And, while in Stowe's enchanting walks you stray, And future ages, with just envy mov'd,
This theme may help to cheat the summer's day. Be told how Damon and his Delia lov'd."

Beneath the covert of a myrtle wood,
To Venus rais'd, a rustic altar stood.
To Venus and to Hymen, there combin'd,
In friendly league to favor human-kind.
With wanton Cupids, in that happy shade,
The gentle Virtues and mild Wisdom play'd.

TO THE REVEREND DR. AYSCOUGH, Nor there in sprightly Pleasure's genial train,

AT OXFORD. Lurk'd sick Disgust, or late-repenting Pain, Nor Force, nor Interest, join'd unwilling hands, Say, dearest friend, how roll thy hours away? But Love consenting tied the blissful bands. What pleasing study cheats the tedious day? Thither, with glad devotion, Damon came,

Dost thou the sacred volumes oft explore To thank the powers who bless'd his faithful flame: Of wise Antiquity's immortal lore, Two milk-white doves he on their altar laid, Where virtue, by the charms of wit refin'd, And thus to both his grateful homage paid : At once exalts and polishes the mind ? “Hail, bounteous god! before whose hallow'd shrine How different from our modern guilty art, My Delia vow'd to be for ever mine,

Which pleases only to corrupt the heart; While, glowing in her cheeks, with tender love, Whose curst refinements odious vice adorn, Sweet virgin-modesty reluctant strove!

And teach to honor what we ought to scorn! And hail to thee, fair queen of young desires! Dost thou in sage historians joy to see Long shall my heart preserve thy pleasing fires, How Roman greatness rose with liberty : Since Delia now can all its warmth return, How the same hands that tyrants durst control As fondly languish, and as fiercely burn.

Their empire stretch'd from Atlas to the Pole; "O the dear bloom of last propitious night! Till wealth and conquest into slaves refind O shade more charming than the fairest light! The proud luxurious masters of mankind ? Then in my arms I clasp'd the melting maid, Dost thon in letter'd Greece each charm admire Then all my pains one moment overpaid;

Each grace, each virtue, Freedom could inspire, Then first the sweet excess of bliss I prov'd, Yet in ber troubled state see all the woes, Which none can taste but who like me have lov'd. And all the crimes, that giddy faction knows; Thou too, bright goddess, once, in Ida's grove, Till, rent by parties, by corruption sold, Didst not disdain to meet a shepherd's love; Or weakly careless, or too rashly bold, With him, while frisking lambs around you play'd, She sunk beneath a mitigated doom, Conceal'd you sported in the secret shade: The slave and tutoress of protecting Rome? Scarce could Anchises' raptures equal mine, Does calm Philosophy her aid impart, And Delia's beauties only yield to thine.

To guide the passions, and to mend the heart? " What are ye now, my once most valued joys ? Taught by her precepts, hast thou learnt the end Insi pid trifles all, and childish toys

To which alone the wise their studies bend; Friendship itself ne'er knew a charm like this, For which alone by Nature were design'd Nor Colin's talk could please like Delia's kiss. The powers of thought to benefit mankind ?

“Ye Muses, skill'd in every winning art, Not, like a cloister'd drone, to read and doze, Teach me more deeply to engage her heart; In undeserving, undeserv'd, repose; Ye nymphs, to her your freshest roses bring, But reason's influence to diffuse; to clear And crown her with the pride of all the Spring: Th' enlighten'd world of every gloomy fear;

« ElőzőTovább »