And fain wou'd push the heavenly stranger back;
She loaths the cranny which admits the day;
Confus’d, afraid of the intruding guest ;
Ditlurb’d, unwilling to receive the beam,
Which to herself her native darkness shews.
The effort rude to quench the cheering flame
Was mine, and e'en on Stella cou'd I gaze
With fullen envy, and admiring pride,
Till, doubly rous'd by Montagu, the pair
Conspire to clear my dull, imprison'd sense,
And chase the mists which dimm'd
my
visual beam.
Oft as I trod my native wilds alone,
Strong gusts of thought wou'd rife, but rise to die;
The portals of the swelling foul ne'er op'd
By liberal converse, rude ideas strove
Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died:
Thus ruft the mind's best powers. Yon starry orbs,
Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves,
Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills,
Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view ;
All those, with beauteous imagery, awak'd
My ravish'd soul to extacy untaught,
To all the transport the rapt sense can bear;
But all expir’d, for want of powers to speak;
All perish'd in the mind as soon as born,
Eras'd more quick than cyphers on the shore,
O'er which the cruel waves, unheedful, roll.
Such timid rapture as young Edwin seiz’d,
When his lone footsteps on the fage obtrude,
Whose noble precept charm'd his
wond'ring eary
Such rapture fill'd Lactilla's vacant soul,
When the bright moralift, in loftness drest,
Opes all the glories of the mental world,
Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune
The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk
Of feeble fancy, bid idea live,
Woo the abstracted fpirit from its cares,
And gently guide her to the scenes of peace.
Mine was that balm, and mine the grateful heart,
Which breathes its thanks in rough, but timid strains.
[From Mr. PolWHELE's Pictures from Nature, in Nineteen Sonnets.]
To misery fo kind ; yet not to you,
Bounty, or charity, or mercy mild,
The pensive thought applies fair Friendship's name ;
That name which never yet cou'd dare exist
But in equality
[From the fame Publication.] HY boast, O arrogant, imperious man,
Perfections to exclusive ? are thy powers
Nearer approaching Deity ? can'ít thou solve
Questions which high Infinity propounds,
Soar nobler flights, or dare immortal deeds,
Unknown to woman, if the greatly dares
To use the powers afsign d her ? Active strength,
The boast of animals, is clearly thine ;
By this upheld, thou think'it the lesson rare
That female virtues teach; and poor the height
Which female wit obtains. The theme untolds
Its ample maze, for Montagu befriends
The puzzled thought, and, blazing in the eye
Of boldest oppofition, ftrait presents
The soul's best energies, her keeneit powers,
Clear, vigorous, enlighten'd; with firm wing
Swift she o'ertakes his Muse, which spread afar
Its brightest glories in the days of yore;
Lo! where she, mounting, spurns the stedfast earth,
And, failing on the cloud of science, bears
The banner of Perfection.-
Alk Gallia's mimic sons how strong her powers,
Whom, flush'd with plunder from her Shakspeare's page
She swift detects amid their dark retreats
(Horrid as Cacus in their thievilh dens);
Regains the trophies, bears in triumph back
The pilfer'd glories to a wand'ring world.
So Stella boasts, from her the tale I learn'd;
With pride she told it, I with rapture heard.
O, Montagu! forgive me, if I fing
Thy wisdom temper'd with the milder ray
Of soft humanity, and kindness bland :
So wide its influence, that thc bright beams
Reach the low vale where mills of ignorance lodge,
Strike on the innate spark which lay immers’d,
Thick clogg’d, and almost quench'd in total night-
On me it fell, and cheer'd my joyless heart.
Unwelcome is the first bright dawn of light
To the dark soul; impatient, the rejects,
That genius arm'd with high perfuafion's power
'The power of human conduct! awful trust!
Yet haply thine! And O if doom'd to guide,
Blest arbiter of good, the moral scale ;
Whether thy care to vindicate the rights
Of outrag'd innocence, and crush the fiends
That weave the Belial-artifice; or sem
In evil hour, corruption's torrent tide ;
Or shine the facred delegate of heav'n ;• O be thy study to impress on all
The features of thy honest worth, and gain
The fame of Virtue! Hence Persuasion draws
New dignity and grace! Attention hangs
Enamour'd on the music of a voice
Inspir'd by genuine probity, and breath'd
From all-essential goodness! Such the charms
Of Virtue!-Yet her semblance, uninform’d
By the warm heart, how vain! O feed the fires
That glow in generous bosoms! Be thy care
To give each exemplary deed the force
Of truth, and plain tincerity of foul!
For there's an energy in conscious worth
A noble daring, (but to Virtue's race
Unknown) that kindles thro' the crowd, the flame
Of einulative merit; spreads around
A kindred feeling ; and impels the mind
To all that high activity, the source
Of happiest execution. Such the fire
Of other days, while Greece survey'd her sons
Crown'd, awful victors, with the double wreath
Of Eloquence and Virtue ! Lo more pure
In redolence and bloom, to Glory's orb
The awaken'd genius of thy country waves
That wreath : and warm with rapture as he views
Its heav'n-born lustre" Be it thine (he cries)
“ Auspicious youth (to pobler deeds foredoom'd)
“ To merit all the renovated
rays;
" And thus, reflected by thy brighter brows,
“ Beyond er'n Grecia's, be thy Albion's fame!"
ODE on his MAJESTY'S BIRTHDAY.
(By the Rev. THOMAS WARTON, B. D. Poet-Laureat.]
Nor bids the fword her bays bequeath,
Nor stains with blood her brightest wreath ;
E TR RY.
Yet as the secret canker-worm
Preys inly on its fainting heart;
From the cold floweret's fallen form
Shall all that glow of colour part!
Ah! on thy lover turn thine eyes-
The blooming cheek may Laura see!
Yet know this pining bosoin dies
And read the rose's fate in me!
SONNET to the AUTHOR's WIFE.
[From the fame Publication.)
OR thee, whose love I value more than life,
Whosé charms the balm of heart-felt bliss inspire
For thee I reassume my humble lyre,
Here in this shade, far distant from the strife
Of scenes, where fashion's pamper'd votaries, rise
In diffipation's revel, quench thy fire
O Mufe! and blast the hallow'd name of wife
'Mid the dark orgies of impure defire--. For thee, tho' ne'er my unambitious strain
May soothe the unfeeling world, I yet awhile Tune the rude shell! and haply, not in vain,
If (sweet reward of cvery anxious toil) My fimple song have still the power to gain
From Laura, but a fond approving smile!
ADDRESS to the PUPIL of ELOQUENCE.
[From Mr. POLWHÉLE's. English Orator, a Didactic Poem.]
HUS then the essentials hath the muse unveil'd
Preceptive :-Studious thou, meanwhile, to trace
Their union and their order, as thy sphere
And genius of the just oration wills;
Except where versatile occalion's turn,
Or sudden impulse of thy audience points
A devious course : for oft, their due degrees
Abandon'd, one essential ev'n excludes
The rest ; or argument perhaps ufurps
The throne of pathos ; or the passions, free
From previous forms, as high emergence calls,
Burit on a Catiline's devoted head
Impetuous : such thy genius, now matur'd
To nerve of classic vigour, feels_crelong
In quick accordance with that sense, to seize
The golden moment, as thy practice adds
Activity to frength. And now survey
That genius arm'd with high perfuafion's power-
The power of human conduct! awful trust!
Yet haply thine! And O if doom'd to guide,
Blest arbiter of good, the moral scale ;
Whether thy care to vindicate the rights
Of outrag'd innocence, and crush the fiends
That weave the Belial-artifice; or sem
In evil hour, corruption's torrent tide;
Or mine the sacred delegate of heav'n ;-
O be thy study to impress on all
The features of thy honest worth, and gain
The fame of Virtue! Hence Persuasion draws
New dignity and grace! Attention hangs
Enamour'd on the music of a voice
Inspir'd by genuine probity, and breath'd
From all-essential goodness! Such the charms
Of Virtue!-Yet her femblance, uninform'd
By the warm heart, how vain! O feed the fires
That glow in generous bosoms! Be thy care
To give each exemplary deed the force
Of truth, and plain tincerity of foul!
For there's an energy in conscious worth
A noble daring, (but to Virtue's race
Unknown) that kindles thro' the crowd, the flame
Of emulative merit; spreads around
A kindred feeling ; and impels the mind
To all that high activity, the source
Of happiest execution. Such the fire
Of other days, while Greece survey'd her sons
Crown'd, awful victors, with the double wreath
Of Eloquence and Virtue ! Lo more pure
In redolence and bloom, to Glory's orb
The awaken'd genius of thy country waves
'That wreath : and warm with rapture as he views
Its heav'n-born lustre—" Be it thine (he cries)
“ Aufpicious youth (to pobler deeds foredoom'd)
“ To merit all the renovated
rays;
“And thus, reflected by thy brighter brows,
" Beyond ev'n Grecia's, be thy Albion's fame!”
ODE on his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY.
(By the Rev. THOMAS WARTON, B. D. Poct-Laureat.]
I.
the
True glory guides no echoing ear;
Nor bids the sword her bays bequeath,
Nor stains with blood her brightest wreath ;
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