The beauteous shapes of objects near, And pleasing views of checker'd glades, Or surges rough, that froth and roar, 25 30 35 40 45 50 Or Hercules, with lion's hide, Or Sisyphus, with toil and sweat, And muscles strain'd, striving to get 55 60 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, And say to you, who better know, TO AARON HILL, ESQ. ON HIS POEM CALLED GIDEON TELL me, wondrous Friend! where were you 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? 65 69 5 Those lines in this poem marked with inverted commas are taken out of Say, have you trod Arabia's spicy vales, To close retirement and to books, And held a long discourse with Heav'n, "Pensive he leans his head on his left hand; 15 20 25 “ 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, ૬૦ "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, In terrac'd stages mount up high, And wave its sable beauties in the sky: 35 "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, 50 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, Shame on the dull! who think the soul looks less The mind's embroidery, that the wise admire. 5 Wealth dims the eyes of crouds, and while they gaze 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, 20 |