Let statesmen, on the fleepless bed,

The fate of realms and princes weigh,
While in the agonizing head

They form ideal scenes of sway;

Not long, alas! the fancied charms delight,

But melt, like spectre-forms, in filent shades of night.

Ye heavy pedants, dull of lore,

Nod o'er the taper's livid flame;
Ye mifers, ftill increase your store;

Still tremble at the robber's name:

Or fhudd'ring from the recent dream arise,
While vifionary fire glows dreadful to your eyes.

Far other joys the Muses show'r,
Benignant, on the aching breaft;
'Tis theirs, in the lone, chearless hour,
To lull the lab'ring heart to rest:

With bright'ning calms they glad the profpect drear,
And bid each groan fubfide, and dry up ev'ry tear.

From earthly mifts, ye gentle Nine !
Whene'er you purge the visual ray,

Sudden the landscapes fairer fhine,

And blander fmiles the face of day:

E'en Chloe's lips with brighter vermil glow,
And on her youthful cheek the rose-buds fresher blow.

When Boreas founds his fierce alarms,

And all the green-clad nymphs are fled,

Oh! then I lie, in Fancy's arms,

On fragrant May's delicious bed;

And thro' the shade, flow-creeping from the dale,
Feel on my drowsy face the lily-breathing gale.

Or

Or on the mountain's airy height
Hear Winter call his howling train,
Chac'd by the fpring and Dryads light,
That now refume their blifsful reign:

While fmiling Flora binds her zephyrs brows,
With ev'ry various flow'r that Nature's lap beftows.

More potent than the Sybil's gold,

That led Æneas' bold emprize;

When you, Calliope, unfold

Your laurel branch, each phantom flies!

Slow Cares with heavy wings beat the dull air,
And Dread, and pale-ey'd Grief, and Pain and black Despair,

With you Elysium's happy bow'rs,

The mansions of the glorious dead,

I vifit oft, and cull the flow'rs

That rife fpontaneous to your tread :

Such active virtue warms that pregnant earth,

And Heav'n with kindlier hand affifts each genial birth.

Here oft I wander thro' the gloom,

While pendent fruit the leaves among
Gleams thro' the fhade with golden bloom,
Where lurk along the feather'd throng,

Whofe notes th' eternal fpring unceasing chear,
Nor leave in mournful filence half the drooping year.

And oft I view along the plain,

With flow and folemn fteps proceed,

Heroes and chiefs, an awful train !

And high exalt the laurell'd head;

Submifs I honour every facred name,

Deep in the column grav'd of adamantine Fame.

But

But ceafe, my Mufe, with tender wing
Unfledg'd, etherial flight to dare,
Stern Cato's bold difcourfe to fing,

Or paint immortal Brutus' air;

May Britain ne'er the weight of flav'ry feel,
Or bid a Brutus shake for her his crimson steel!

Lo! yonder, negligently laid

Faft by the ftream's impurpled fide,
Where thro' the thick-entangled shade,
The radiant waves of nectar glide,

Each facred poet flrikes his tuneful lyre,

And wakes the ravish'd heart, and bids the foul afpire.

No more is heard the plaintive ftrain,

Or pleafing Melancholy's fong, .
Tibullus here forgets his pain,

And joins the love-exulting throng;

For Cupid flutters round with golden dart,
And fiercely twangs his bow at ev'ry rebel heart.

There stretch'd at ease Anacreon gay,
And on his melting Lesbia's breast,

With eye half-rais'd Catullus lay,

And, gaz'd himself to balmy reft:
While Venus' felf thro' all the am'rous groves
With kiffes, fresh-diftill'd, fupply'd their conftant loves.

Now Horace' hand the ftring infpir'd,
My foul, impatient as he fung,

The Mufe unconquerable fir'd,

And heav'nly accents feiz'd my tongue;

Then lock'd in admiration fweet, I bow'd,

Confefs'd his potent art, nor could forbear aloud *:

* Milton.

‹ Hail,

• Hail, glorious bard! whose high command
A thousand various ftrings obey,

• While joins and mixes to thy hand
At once the bold and tender lay!

• Nor mighty Homer, down Parnafsus steep,
• Rolls the full tide of verfe fo clear and yet fo deep.

O could I catch one ray divine

From thy intolerable blaze!

• To pour strong luftre on my line,
And my afpiring fong to raise;

Then fhould the Mufe her choiceft influence fhed, •And with eternal wreaths entwine my lofty head.

Then would I fing the fons of Fame,

• Th' immortal chiefs of ancient age,
Or tell of Love's celeftial flame,

• Or ope fair Friendship's facred page;
•And leave the fullen thought, and ftruggling groan,
To take their watchful stands around the gaudy throne.”

THE POWER

OF POETRY.

BY THE SAME.

WHEN tuneful Orpheus ftrove by moving strains

W

To foothe the furious hate of rugged fwains,

The lift'ning multitude was pleas'd;

E'en Rapine dropp'd her ravish'd prey,

Till by the foft oppreffion feiz'd,

Each favage heard his rage away ;

And now o'ercome, in kind consent they move,

And all is harmony, and all is love!

Not

Not fo, when Greece's chief, by Heav'n infpir'd,
With love of arms each glowing bofom fir'd:

But now the trembling foldier fled,

Regardless of the glorious prize,
And his brave thirst of honour dead,

He durft not meet with hostile eyes;

Whilft glittering shields and fwords, war's bright array,
Were either worn in vain, or bafely thrown away.

Soon as the hero by his martial strains
Had kindled virtue in their frozen veins,
Afresh the warlike spirit grows;

Like flame the brave contagion ran :
See, in each sparkling eye it glows,

And catches on from man to man! Till rage in every breast to fear fucceed;

And now they dare, and now they wish to bleed!

With different movements fraught, where Maro's lays
Taught flowing grief, and kind concern to raise;
He fung Marcellus' mournful name!

In Beauty's and in Glory's bloom,
Torn from himself, from friends, from fame,
And rapt into an early tomb!

He fung, and forrow ftole on all,

And fighs began to heave, and tears began to fall!

But Rome's high emprefs felt the greatest smart,
Touch'd both by nature and the poet's art;
For as he fung the mournful ftrain,

So well the hero's portraiture he drew,
She faw him ficken, fade again,

And, in description, bleed anew:

Then pierc'd, and yielding to the melting lay,
She figh'd, she fainted, funk, and died away.