Imatges de pàgina
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The beauteous shapes of objects near,
Or distant ones confus'd in air;
The golden eve, the blushing dawn,
Smiling on the lovely lawn!

And pleasing views of checker'd glades,
And rivers winding thro' the shades,
And sunny hills-and pleasant plains,
And groups of merry nymphs and swains.
Or some old building, hid with grass,
Rearing sad its ruin'd face,
Whose columns, frizes, statues; lie
The grief and wonder of the eye!
Or swift adown a mountain tall
A foaming cat'ract's sounding fall,
Whose loud roaring stuns the ear
Of the wondering traveller;
Or a calm and quiet bay,
And a level shining sea ;

Or surges rough, that froth and roar,
And, angry, dash the sounding shore;
And vessels toss'd, and billows high,
And light'ning flashing from the sky ;
Or that which gives me most delight,
The fair idea (seeming sight!)
Of warrior fierce, with shining blade,
Or orator, with arms display'd,
Tully's engaging air and mien
Declaiming against Catiline;
Or fierce Achilles towering high

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Or Hercules, with lion's hide,
And knotty cudgel, thrown aside,
Lifting Antæus high in air,
Who in his gripe expires there.

Or Sisyphus, with toil and sweat,

And muscles strain'd, striving to get
Up a steep hill a ponderous stone,

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Which near the top recoils, and rolls impetuous down; Or beauteous Helen's easy air,

With head reclin’d, and flowing hair ;

Or comely Paris, gay and young,
Moving with gallant grace along!
These you can do-I but advance
In a florid ignorance,

And say to you, who better know,
You should design them so and so.

TO AARON HILL, ESQ.

ON HIS POEM CALLED GIDEON

TELL me, wondrous Friend! where were you
When Gideon was your lofty song?

Where did the heav'nly spirit bear you

When your

fair soul reflected strong

Gideon's actions, as they shin'd

Bright in the chambers of your mind?

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Say, have you trod Arabia's spicy vales,
Or gather'd bays beside Euphrates' stream,
Or lonely sung with Jordan's water-falls,
While heav'nly Gideon was your sacred theme? 10
Or have you many ages giv'n

To close retirement and to books,

And held a long discourse with Heav'n,
And notic'd Nature in her various looks,
Full of inspiring wonder and delight,
Slow read I Gideon with a greedy eye,
Like a pleas'd traveller, that lingers sweet
On some fair and lofty plain
Where the sun does brightly shine,
And glorious prospects all around him lie.
On Gideon's pages beautifully shine
Surprising pictures rising to my sight,
With all the life of colours and of line,
And all the force of rounding shade and light,
And all the grace of something more divine.
High on a hill, beneath an oak's broad arm,
I see a youth divinely fair!

"Pensive he leans his head on his left hand;

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“ His smiling eye sheds sweetness mix'd with awe; “His right hand with a milk-white wand some figure seems to draw!

"A nameless grace is scatter'd thro' his air,

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"And o'er his shoulders loosely flows his ambercolour'd hair!"

Above, with burning blush the morning glows,

<< Slow from the plain the melting dews,
"To kiss the sunbeams, climbing, rise," &c.
Methinks the grove of Baal I see,

In terrac'd stages mount up high,

And wave its sable beauties in the sky:

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"From stage to stage broad step of half-hid stone, 40 "With curling moss and blady grass o'er grown, "Lead awful"

Down in a dungeon deep,

"Where thro' thick walls, oblique, the broken light "From narrow loopholes quivers to the sight, 45 "With swift and furious stride,

"Close-folded arms, and short and sudden starts, "The fretful prince, in dumb and sullen pride "Resolves escape”

Here in red colours, glowing bold,

A warlike figure strikes my eye,

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The dreadful sudden sight his foes behold Confounded so, they lose the pow'r to fly; "Backening they gaze at distance on his face, "Admire his posture, and confess his grace; 55 "His right hand grasps his planted spear," &c. Alas! my Muse! thro' much good will your err, And we the mighty author greatly wrong; To gather beauties here and there, As but a scatter'd few they were,

TO MR. SAVAGE,

SON OF THE LATE EARL RIVERS.

SINK not my, Friend! beneath misfortune's weight,
Pleas'd to be found intrinsically great,

Shame on the dull! who think the soul looks less
Because the body wants a glitt'ring dress.
It is the mind's for ever bright attire,

The mind's embroidery, that the wise admire.
That which looks rich to the gross vulgar eyes
Is the fop's tinsel, which the grave despise.

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Wealth dims the eyes of crouds, and while they gaze
The coxcomb's ne'er discover'd in the blaze.
As few the vices of the wealthy see,

So virtues are conceal'd by poverty.

Earl Rivers! In that name how wouldst thou Thy verse how sweet! thy fancy how divine![shine? Critics and bards would, by their worth, be aw'd, 15 And all would think it merit to applaud. But thou has nought to please the vulgar eye, No title hast, nor what might titles buy. Thou wilt small praise but much ill-nature find, Clear to thy errors, to thy beauties blind; And if tho' few, they any faults can see, How meanly bitter will cold censure be! But since we all, the wisest of us, err,

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