"I spoke, nor Fate forbore his trembling spoil; 45 "Some venal mourner lent his careless aid,

"And soon they bore me to my native soil, "Where my fond parents' dear remains were laid.

"'Twas then the youths from ev'ry plain and grove "Adorn'd with mournful verse thy Sylvia's bier; 50 "'Twas then the Nymphs their votive garlands wove, "And strew'd the fragrance of the youthful year.

"But why, alas! the tender scene display?
"Could Damon's foot the pious path decline?

::

Ah, no' 'twas Damon first attun'd his lay, "And sure no sonnet was so dear as thine.

55

"Thus was I hosom'd in the peaceful grave, "My placid ghost no longer wept its doom, "When savage robbers ev'ry sanction brave, "And, with outrageous guilt, defraud the tomb! 60

"Shall my poor corse, from hostile realms convey'd, "Lose the cheap portion of my native sands? "Or, in my kindred's dear embraces laid, "Mourn the vile ravage of barbarian hands?

"Say, would thy breast no deathlike torture feel, 65 "To see my limbs the felon's gripe obey? "To see them gash'd beneath the daring steel? "To crowds a spectre, and to dogs a prey!

"If Pæan's sons these horrid rites require,
"If Health's fair science be by these refin'd,
"Let guilty convicts for their use expire,
"And let their breathless corse avail mankind.

70

"Yet hard it seems, when Guilt's last fine is paid, "To see the victim's corse deny'd repose; "Now, more severe, the poor offenceless maid 75 "Dreads the dire outrage of inhuman foes.

Where is the faith of ancient Pagans fled? "Where the fond care the wand'ring manes claim? "Nature, instinctive, cries, Protect the dead, "And sacred be their ashes and their fame!

;

80

"Arise, dear Youth! ev'n now the danger calls "Ev'n now the villain snuffs his wonted prey : "See! see! I lead thee to yon' sacred walls"Oh! fly to chase these human wolves away." 84

Volume I.

M

ELEGY XXIII.

Reflections suggested by bis situation.

BORN near the scene for Kenelm's * fate renown'd,
I take my plaintive reed, and range the grove,
And raise my lay, and bid the rocks resound
The savage force of empire and of love.

Fast by the centre of yon' various wild,
Where spreading oaks embow'r a Gothic fane,
Kendrida's arts a brother's youth beguil'd;
There Nature urg'd her tend'rest pleas in vain.

Soft o'er his birth, and o'er his infant hours,
Th' ambitious maid could ev'ry care employ,
Then with assiduous fondness cropt the flow'rs,
To deck the cradle of the princely boy.

But soon the bosom's pleasing calm is flown;
Love fires her breast; the sultry passions rise:
A favour'd lover seeks the Mercian throne,
And views her Kenelm with a rival's eyes.

5

ΙΟ

15

Kenelm, in the Saxon heptarchy, was heir to the kingdom of Mercia, but being very young at his father's death, was, by the artifices of his sister and her lover, deprived of his crown and life together. The body was found in a piece of ground near the top of Clent hill, exactly facing Mr. Shenstone's house, near which place a church was aftgrwards erected to his memory, stiil used for divine worship, and called St. Kenelm's. See Plot's History of Staffordshire.

How kind were Fortune! ah! how just were Fate!
Would Fate or Fortune Mercia's heir remove!
How sweet to revel on the couch of state!
To crown at once her lover and her love!

See, garnish'd for the chase, the fraudful maid
To these lone hills direct his devious way;
The youth, all prone, the sister-guide obey'd,
Ill-fated youth! himself the destin'd prey.

20

But now nor shaggy hill nor pathless plain

25

Forms the lone refuge of the sylvan game,
Since Lyttleton has crown'd the sweet domain
With softer pleasures and with fairer fame.

Where the rough bowman urg'd his headlong steed,
Immortal bards, a polish'd race, retire;

30

And where hoarse scream'd the strepent horn, succeed
The melting graces of no vulgar lyre.

See Thomson, loit'ring near some limpid well,
For Britain's friend the verdant wreath prepare!
Or, studious of revolving seasons, tell

35

How peerless Lucia made all seasons fair!

See *** from civic garlands fly,

And in these groves indulge his tuneful vein!
Or from yon' summit, with a guardian's eye,

Observe how Freedom's hand attires the plain? 40

Here Pope!-ah! never must that tow'ring mind
To his lov'd haunts or dearer friend return!
What art, what friendships! oh! what fame resign'd!
-In yonder glade I trace his mournful urn,

45

Where is the breast can rage or hate retain,
And these glad streams and smiling lawns behold?
Where is the breast can hear the woodland strain,
And think fair Freedom well exchang'd for gold?

Thro' these soft shades delighted let me stray,
While o'er my head forgotten suns descend!
Thro' these dear vallies bend my casual way,
Till setting life a total shade extend!

Here far from courts, and void of pompous cares,
I'll muse how much I owe mine humbler fate,
Or shrink to find how much Ambition dares
To shine in anguish, and to grieve in state!

Can'st thou, O Sun! that spotless throne disclose,
Where her bold arm has left no sanguine stain?
Where, shew me where, the lineal sceptre glows,
Pure as the simple crook that rules the plain?

50

55

60

Tremendous pomp! where hate, distrust, and fear,
In kindred bosoms solve the social tie;
There not the parent's smile is half sincere,
Nor void of art the consort's melting eye.