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loved Ruth-" one of our next kinfamen." Often, and with equal fuccefs, fhe went after this into the field, and continued there to earn a very comfortable living for herself and her friend, even to the clofe of the harveft. In the mean time, the paffion of Boaz had made a very pathetic progrefs, and the refult of it was, that he became the honourable lover of our fair gleaner, and renewed his acquaintance with his relation Naomi, to whom he made, we are told, various prefents. Boaz and Ruth were foon united, and, as a convincing inftance of the harmony in which the family lived together, we find, highly to the gratification of every elegant heart, that when Ruth prefented to Boaz a child-her first-born-Naomi,-after all the perils of her past life, re-enjoyed the sweets of privacy and peace : peace: "for she took the babe, "and laid it in her bofom, and 'became "nurfe unto it:" And I must not forget to add, that this very child, whofe name was Obed, was the grandfather of the famous David, to whofe pen, the Pfalms

are

are attributed; which, both as pieces of fcripture and of writing, are totally unrivalled in point of energy and fublimity, by any compofition that hath yet been, or that probably ever will be, produced in human language.

Undoubtedly our English Virgil, the author of the Seasons, took from this story the hint of his epifode of Palemon and Lavinia but, beautiful as that epifode may be, I by no means think he hath improved the prefent fubject. Indeed, it is not easy to improve any of the facred narratives, nor was Mr. Thomfon a poet of fimplicity. He hath, however, followed the original pretty clofely, efpecially in the principal incidents: yet Palemon is a poor copy of Boaz, and Lavinia is lefs captivating than Ruth,

But I fhall quote Mr. Thomfon's poetical paraphrafe-for it is little more-that the reader may compare it with the ori ginal.

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The lovely young Lavinia once had friends;
And fortune fmil'd, deceitful, on her birth.
For, in her helpless years depriv'd of ail,
Of every stay, fave innocence and Heaven,
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old,
And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd
Among the windings of a woody vale;
By folitude and deep furrounding fhades,
But more by bashful modefty, conceal'd.
Together thus they fhunn'd the cruel fcorn
Which virtue, funk to poverty, would meet
From giddy paffion and low-minded pride:
Almoft on nature's common bounty fed;

Like the gay birds that fung them to repofe,
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare.
Her form was fresher than the morning rofe,
When the dew wets its leaves; unftain'd and pure,
As is the lily, or the mountain fnow.
The modeft virtues mingled in her eyes,

Still on the ground dejected, darting all
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers:
Or when the mournful tale her mother told,
Of what her faithlefs fortune promis'd once,
Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy ftar
Of evening, fhone in tears.
A native grace

Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, `
Veil'd in a fimple robe, their best attire,
Beyond the pomp of drefs; for loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the most.

Thoughtless

Thoughtless of beauty, fhe was beauty's felf,
Reclufe amid the close-embowering woods.
As in the hollow breaft of Appenine,
Beneath the fhelter of encircling hills,
A myrtle rifes, far from human eye,

And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ;:
So flourish'd blooming, and unfeen by all,
The sweet Lavinia; till, at length, compell'd
By ftrong Neceffity's fupreme command,
With fmiling patience in her looks, fhe went
To glean Palemon's fields. The pride of fwains
Palemon was, the generous, and the rich;
Who led the rural life in all its joy
And elegance, such as Arcadian fong.
Tranfmits from ancient uncorrupted times;
When tyrant custom had not shackled man,
But free to follow nature was the mode.
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes
Amufing, chanc'd befide his reaper-train.
To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye;·
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick
With unaffected blushes from his gaze:
He faw her charming, but he faw not half
The charms her down-caft modesty conceal'd.
That very moment love and chafte defire
Sprung in his bofom, to himfelf unknown;
For ftill the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh,
Which fcarce the firm philofopher can fcorn,
Should his heart own a gleaner in the field:
And thus in fecret to his foul he figh'd.

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"What pity! that fo delicate a form, "By beauty kindled where enlivening fenfe "And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, "Should be devoted to the rude embrace

"Of fome indecent clown! She looks, methinks, "Of old Acafto's line; and to my mind

"Recalls that patron of my happy life,

"From whom my liberal fortune took its rife ; "Now to the dust gone down-; his houses, lands, "And once fair-fpreading family, diffolv'd.

""Tis faid that in some lone obscure retreat,

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Urg'd by remembrance fad, and decent pride, "Far from thofe fcenes which knew their better

days,

"His aged widow and his daughter live,

"Whom yet my fruitless fearch could never find. Romantic with! would this the daughter were!"

When, ftri&t enquiring, from herself he found
She was the fame, the daughter of his friend,
Of bountiful Acafto; who can speak

The mingled paffions that furpriz'd his heart,
And thro' his nerves in shivering transport ran ?
Then blaz'd his fmother'd flame, avow'd and bold;
And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er,
Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once.
Confus'd and frightened at his fudden tears,
Her rifing beauties flush'd a higher bloom,
As thus Palemon, paffionate, and just,
Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul.

"And

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