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O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,
With listless eyes the dotard views the store,
And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; | Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, “Think nothing gain'd," he cries, “till nought Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain: remain,
No sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus And all be mine beneath the polar sky."
near; The march begins in military state,
Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend. And nations on his eye suspended wait;
Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend; Stern Famine guards the solitary coast,
But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost; Perversely grave, or positively wrong. He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay ; The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day : Perplex the fawning niece, and pamper'd guest, The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer. And shows his miseries in distant lands;
And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear : Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait,
The watchful guests still hint the last offence ; While ladies interpose, and slaves debate.
The daughter's petulance, the son's expense, But did not Chance at length her error mend ? Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill, Did no subverted empire mark his end ?
And mould his passions till they make his will. Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ?
Unnumber'd maladies bis joints invade, Or hostile millions press him to the ground ? Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; His fall was destined to a barren strand,
But unextinguish'd av'rice still remains, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand;
And dreaded losses aggravate his pains; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; All times their scenes of pompous woes afford, Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord.
Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. In gay hostility and barb'rous pride,
But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime With half mankind embatiled at his side,
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime; Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey, An age that melts with unperceiv'd decay, And starves exhausted regions in his way;
And glides in modest innocence away; Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, | Whose peaceful day benevolence endears, Till counted myriads soothe his pride no more ; Whose night congratulating conscience cheers, Fresh praise is tried till madness fires his mind, The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend : The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind; Such age there is, and who shall wish its end ? New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still be. Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings, stow'd,
To press the weary minutes' flagging wings; Till rude resistance lops the spreading god; New sorrow rises as the day returns, The daring Greeks deride the martial show, A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe; Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier, Th'insulted sea with humbler thought he gains, Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear; A single skiff to speed his flight remains ;
Year chases year, decay pursues decay, Th' encumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast Still drops some joy from with'ring life away; Through purple billows and a floating host. New forms arise, and diff"rent views engage, The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage, Tries the dread summits of Cæsarean pow'r, Till pitying Nature signs the last release, With unexpected legions bursts away,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. And sees defenceless realms receive his sway: But few there are whom hours like these await Short sway! fair Austria spreads her mournful] Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate. charms,
From Lydia's monarch should the search descend, The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; By Solon caution'd to regard his end, From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze In life's last scene what prodigies surprise, Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise ; Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise! The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar,
From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow With all the sons of ravage crowd the war; | And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show. The baffled prince, in honor's flatt'ring bloom
The teeming mother, anxious for her race, Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom;
Begs for each birth the fortune of a face ; His foes' derision, and his subjects' blame, Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring ; And steals to death from anguish and from shanie. And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king.
" Enlarge my life with multitude of days." Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, in health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays : Whom pleasure keeps too busy to be wise ; Hides from himself its state, and shuns to know, Whom joys with soft varieties invite, That life protracted is protracted woe.
By day the frolic, and the dance by night; Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,
Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, And shuts up all the passages of joy :
And ask the latest fashion of the heart;
What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall Vice always found a sympathetic friend ; save,
They pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend. Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave? Yet bards like these aspir'd to lasting praise, Against your fame with fondness hate combines, And proudly hop'd to pimp in future days. The rival batters, and the lover mines.
Their cause was gen'ral, their supports were strong With distant voice neglected Virtue calls,
Their slaves were willing, and their reign was long : Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls; Till Shame regain'd the post that Sense betray'd, Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry rein, And Virtue callid Oblivion to her aid. And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain. Then, crush'd by rules, and weakend as refin'd. In crowd at once, where none the pass defend, For years the pow'r of Tragedy declin'd; The harmless freedom, and the private friend. From bard to bard the frigid caution crept, The guardians yield, by force superior plied : Till Declamation roar'd whilst Passion slept ; To Int'rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride. Yet still did Virtue deign the stage to tread, Here Beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, Philosophy remain'd, though Nature fled. And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest.
But forc'd, at length, her ancient reign to quit, Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find? She saw great Faustus lay the ghost of Wit; Must dull Suspense corrupt the stagnant mind ? Exulting Folly hail'd the joyful day, Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
And Pantomime and Song confirm'd her sway. Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate ?
But who the coming changes can presage, Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
And mark the future periods of the stage ? No cries invoke the mercies of the skies ?. Perhaps, if skill could distant times explore, Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain
New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in store; Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain. Perhaps where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet died, Still raise for good the supplicating voice, On flying cars new sorcerers may ride: But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice : Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance ?) Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet* may dance. The secret ambush of a specious pray'r;
Hard is his lot that, here by Fortune plac'd, Implore his aid, in his decisions rest,
Must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste ; Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. With every meteor of caprice must play, Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, And chase the new-blown bubbles of the day. And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
Ah! let not Censure term our fate our choice, Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind,
The stage but echoes back the public voice ; Obedient passions, and a will resign'd;
The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For love, which scarce collective man can fill ; For we that live to please, must please to live. For patience, soy'reign o'er transmuted ill;
Then prompt no more the follies you decry, For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,
As tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die; Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat: "Tis yours, this night, to bid the reign commence These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain, of rescued Nature and reviving Sense ; These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to To chase the charms of sound, the pomp of show gain ;
For useful mirth and salutary woe; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, Bid scenic Virtue form the rising age, And makes the happiness she does not find. And Truth diffuse her radiance from the stage
DEATH OF MR. ROBERT LEVET,
A PRACTISER IN PHYSIC.
CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day, Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
By sudden blasts, or slow decline,
Our social comforts drop away
Well tried through many a varying year,
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of ev'ry friendless name the friend.
Yet still he fills affection's eye,
Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny A mortal born, he met the gen'ral doom,
Thy praise to merit unrefin'd. But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb.
The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame, Nor wish'd for Jonson's art, or Shakspeare's flame. * Hunt, a famous boxer on the stage ; Mahomet, a rope. Themselves they studied, as they felt they writ; dancer, who had exhibited at Covent Garden theatre the Intrigue was plot, obscenity was wit.
| winter before, said to be a Turk
When fainting nature call'd for aid,
And hov'ring death prepar'd the blow, His vig'rous remedy display'd
The pow'r of art without the show.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round,
Nor made a pause, nor left a void; And sure th' Eternal Master found
The single talent well employ'd.
The busy day—the peaceful night,
Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm-his powers were bright,
Though now his eightieth year was nigh.
In Misery's darkest cavern known,
His useful care was ever nigh, Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan,
And lonely Want retir'd to die. No summons mock'd by chill delay,
No petty gain disdain'd by pride, The modest wants of ev'ry day
The toil of ev'ry day supplied.
Then with no fiery throbbing pain,
No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.
JOHN ARMSTRONG, a physician and poet, was superior merit. Its topics are judiciously chosen born about 1709 at Castleton in Roxburghshire, from all those which can add grace or beauty to a where his father was the parish minister. He was difficult subject; and as he was naturally gifted brought up to the medical profession, which he with a musical ear, his lines are scarcely ever harsh. studied at the university of Edinburgh, where he In 1760 Dr. Armstrong had interest enough to took his degrees. He settled in London in the double obtain the appointment of physician to the army in capacity of physician and man of letters, and he Germany, which he retained till its return. He then rendered himself known by writings in each. In resumed his practice in London; but his habits and 1744 his capital work, the didactic poem entitled manners opposed an insurmountable bar against “ The Art of preserving Health," made its appear-popular success. He possessed undoubted abilities, ance, and raised his literary reputation to a height but a morbid sensibility preyed on his temper, and which his subsequent publications scarcely sustained. his intellectual efforts were damped by a languid It has therefore been selected for this work; and it listlessness. He died in September, 1779, leaving may be affirmed, that of the class to which it be considerable savings from a very moderate income. longs, scarcely any English performance can claim
They fly thy pure effulgence: they and all
The secret poisons of avenging Heaven,
of Vice and heedless Pleasure : or if aught
The comet's glare amid the burning sky,
Mournful eclipse, or planets ill combin'd,
Portend disastrous to the vital world ; Hygeia ;* whose indulgent smile sustains
Thy salutary power averts their rage, The various race luxuriant Nature pours,
Averts the general bane: and but for thee And on th' immortal essences bestows
Nature would sicken, nature soon would die. Immortal youth ; auspicious, O descend !
Without thy cheerful active energy
Come then with me, O goddess, heav'nly gay' Diffusest life and vigor through the tracts
Begin the song; and let it sweetly flow, Of air, through earth, and ocean's deep domain. And let it wisely teach thy wholesome laws : When through the blue serenity of Heaven “How best the fickle fabric to support Thy power approaches, all the wasteful host Of mortal man; in healthful body bow Of Pain and Sickness, squalid and deformid, A healthful mind the longest to maintain." Confounded sink into the lothesome gloom,
"Tis hard, in such a strife of rules, to choose Where in deep Erebus involv'd the Fiends
The best, and those of most extensive use ;
Through paths the Muses never trod before.
Indulge, 0 Mead! a well-design'd essay, * Hygeia, the goddess of health, was, according to the
Ilowe'er imperfect: and permit that I genealogy of the heathen deities, the daughter of Æscu. My little knowledge with my country share, 'apius; who, as well as Apollo, was distinguished by the Till you the rich Asclepian stores unlock, name of Pæon.
| And with new graces dignify the theme.
Ye who arnid this feverish world would wear Convulsive yawnings, lassitude, and pains A body free of pain, of cares a mind;
That sting the burden'd brows, fatigue the loins, Fly the rank city, shun its turbid air;
And rack the joints, and every torpid limb; Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke
Then parching heat succeeds, till copious sweats And volatile corruption, from the dead,
O'erflow: a short relief from former ills The dying, sick'ning, and the living world
Beneath repeated shocks the wretches pine, Exhal'd, to sally Heaven's transparent dome The vigor sinks, the habit melts away: With dim mortality. It is not air
The cheerful, pure, and animated bloom That from a thousand lungs reeks back to thine, Dies from the face, with squalid atrophy Sated with exhalations rank and fell.
Devour'd, in sallow melancholy clad. The spoil of dunghills, and the putrid thaw
And oft the sorceress, in her sated wrath, or nature; when from shape and texture she Resigns them to the furies of her train : Relapses into fighting elements :
The bloated Hydrops, and the yellow Fiend It is not air, but floats a nauseous mass
Ting'd with her own accumulated gall. of all obscene, corrupt, offensive things.
In quest of sites, avoid the mournful plain Much moisture hurts; but here a sordid bath, Where osiers thrive, and trees that love the lake With oily rancor fraught, relaxes more
Where many lazy muddy rivers flow:
Fix near the marshy margin of the main.
Of waters, pours a sounding deluge down. Did not the acid vigor of the mine,
Skies such as these let every mortal shun Rollid from so many thundering chimneys, tame Who dreads the dropsy, palsy, or the gout, The putrid steams that overswarm the sky; Tertian, corrosive scurvy, or moist catarrh ; This caustic venom would perhaps corrode
Or any other injury that grows Those tender cells that draw the vital air,
From raw-spun fibres idle and unstrung, In vain with all the unctuous rills bedew'd; Skin ill-perspiring, and the purple flood Or by the drunken venous tubes, that yawn In languid eddies loitering into phlegm. In countless pores o'er all the pervious skin
Yet not alone from humid skies we pine ; Imbibid, would poison the balsamic blood, For air may be too dry. The subtle Heaven, And rouse the heart to every fever's rage.
That winnows into dust the blasted downs, While yet you breathe, away; the rural wilds Bare and extended wide without a stream, Invite; the mountains call you, and the vales; Too fast imbibes th' attenuated lymph, The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze Which, by the surface, from the blood exhales That fans the ever-undulating sky;
The lungs grow rigid, and with toil essay A kindly sky! whose fost'ring power regales Their flexible vibrations ! or inflam'd, Man, beast, and all the vegetable reign.
Their tender ever-moving structure thaws. Find then some woodland scene where Nature smiles Spoil'd of its limpid vehicle, the blood Benign, where all her honest children thrive. A mass of lees remains, a drossy tide To us there wants not many a happy seat! That slow as Lethe wanders through the veins Look round the smiling land, such numbers rise Unactive in the services of life, We hardly fix, bewilderd in our choice.
Unfit to lead its pitchy current through See where, enthron'd in adamantine state,
The secret mazy channels of the brain. Proud of her bards, imperial Windsor sits;
The melancholic fiend (that worst despair Where choose thy seat, in some aspiring grove of physic) hence the rust-complexion'd man Fast by the slowly-winding Thames; or where Pursues, whose blood is dry, whose fibres gain Broader she laves fair Richmond's green retreats, Too stretch'd a tone; and hence in climes adus! (Richmond, that sees an hundred villas rise So sudden tumults seize the trembling nerves, Rural or gay.) O! from the summer's rage, And burning severs glow with double rage. 0! wrap me in the friendly gloom that hides
Fly, if you can, these violent extremes Umbrageous Ham !-But if the busy town Of air; the wholesome is nor moist nor dry. Attract thee still to toil for power or gold,
But as the power of choosing is denied Sweetly thou may'st thy vacant hours possess To half mankind, a further task ensues ; In Hampstead, courted by the western wind; How best to mitigate these fell extremes, Or Greenwich, waving o'er the winding flood; How breathe unhurt the withering element, Or lose the world amid the sylvan wilds
Or hazy atmosphere ; though custom moulds Of Dulwich, yet by barbarous arts unspoil'd. To every clime the soft Promethean clay; Green rise the Kentish hills in cheerful air; And he who first the fogs of Essex breath'd But on the marshy plains that Lincoln spreads (So kind is native air) may in the fens Build not, nor rest too long thy wandering feet. Of Essex from inveterate ills revive, For on a rustic throne of dewy turf,
At pure Montpelier or Bermuda caught. With baneful fogs her aching temples bound,
But if the raw and oozy Heaven offend; Quartana there presides; a meagre fiend
Correct the soil, and dry the sources up Begot by Eurus, when his brutal force
Of wat'ry exhalation : wide and deep Compress'd the slothful Naiad of the fens. Conduct your trenches through the quaking bog; From such a mixture sprung, this fitfol pest Solicitous, with all your winding arts, With fey'rish blasts subdues the sick'ning land: Betray the unwilling lake into the stream; Cold tremors come, with mighty love of rest, And weed the forest, and invoke the winds