Hence arbours are with twining greens array'd, T'oblige complaining lovers with their fhade; And hence on Daphne's laurel'd forehead grow Immortal wreaths for Phoebus and Nassau.

The infects here their lingering trance furvive: Benumb'd they feem'd, and doubtful if alive. From winter's fury hither they repair, And stay for milder fkies and fofter air. Down to thefe cells obfcener reptiles creep, Where hateful nutes and painted lizards deep; Where fhivering fnakes the fummer folftice wait: Unfurl their painted folds, and flide in ftate. Here their new form the numb'd erucæ hide Their numerous feet in fender bandage ty'd: Soon as the kindling ear begins to rife, This upstart race their native clod defpife, And proud of painted wings attempt the fkies. Now thofe profounder regions they explore, Where metals ripen in vaft cakes of ore. Here, fullen to the fight, at large is fpread The dull unwieldy mafs of lumpish lead. There, glimmering in their dawning beds, are

feen

The light afpiring feeds of fprightly tin.
The copper fparkles next in ruddy ftreaks;
And in the gloom betrays its glowing cheeks.
The filver then, with bright and burnish'd grace,
Youth and a blooming luftre in its face,
To th' arms of those more yielding metals flies,
And in the folds of their embraces lies.
So close they cling, fo ftubbornly retire;
Their love's more violent than the chemift's fire.
Near these the delegate with wonder fpies
Where floods of living filver ferpentise;
Where richest metals their bright looks put on,
And golden ftreams through amber channels run:
Where light's gay god defcends, to ripen gems,
And lend a luftre brighter than his beams.

- Here he observes the fubterranean cells,
· Where wanton nature fports in idle fhells.
Some helicoeids, fome conical appear:
Thefe, mitres emulate, those turbans are.
Here marcafites in various figure wait,
To ripen to a true metallic state:
Till drops that from impending rocks defcend
Their fubftance petrify, and progress end.
Nigh, livid feas of kindled fulphur flow,
And whilft enrag'd, their fiery furges glow,
Convulfions in the labouring mountains rife,
And hurl their melted vitals to the fkies.

He views with horror next the noify cave,
Where with hoarfe dins imprison'd tempefts rave;
Where clamorours hurricanes attempt their flight,
Or, whirling in tumultuous eddies, fight.
The warring winds unmov'd Hygeia heard,
Brav'd their loud jars, but much for Celfus fear'd.
Andromeda fo, whilft her hero fought,
Shook for his danger, but her own forgot.

And now the goddess with her charge defcends, Whilft fcarce one chearful glimpfe their fteps befriends.

Here his forfaken feat old Chaos keeps ;
And, undisturb'd by form, in filence fleeps;
A grifly wight, and hideous to the eye,
An aukward lump of fhapelefs anarchy.

With fordid age his features are defac'd;
His lands unpeopled, and his countries wafte.
To thefe dark realms much learned lumber creeps
There copious Morton fafe in filence fleeps;
Where mushroom libcls in oblivion lie,
And, foon as born, like other monsters, die.
Upon a couch of jet, in these abodes,
Dull night, his melancholy confort, nods.
No ways and means their cabinet employ;
But their dark hours they waste in barren joy.

Nigh this recefs, with terror they furvey
Where death maintains his dread tyrannic fway,
In the close covert of a cyprefs grove,
Where goblins frisk, and airy spectres rove,
Yawns a dark cave, with awful horror wide,
And there the monarch's triumphs are defcry'd;
Confus'd, and wildly huddled to the eye,
The beggar's pouch and prince's purple lie;
Dim lamps with fickly rays fcarce feem to glow;
Sighs heave in mournful moans, and tears o'erflow;
Reflefs anxiety, forlorn despair,

And all the faded family of care;

Old mouldering urns, racks, daggers, and distress,
Make up the frightful horror of the place.

Within its dreadful jaws thofe furies wait,
Which execute the harfh decrees of fate.
Febris is first the hag relentless hears
The virgin's fighs, and fees the infant's tears.
In her parch'd eye-balls fiery meteors reign;
And restlefs ferments revel in each veign.

Then hydrops next appears amongst the throng;
Bloated, and big, fhe flowly fails along.
But, like a mifer, in excefs fhe's poor,
And pines for thirst amidst her watery ftore.

Now loathfome lepra, that offenfive spright, With foul eruptions ftain'd, offends the fight; Still deaf to beauty's foft perfuading power; Nor can bright Hebe's charms her bloom fecure. Whilft meagre Pthifis gives a filent blow, Her ftrokes are fure, but her advances flow: No loud alarms, nor fierce affaults, are fhown; She ftarves the fortrefs firft, then takes the town. Behind flood crowds of much inferior fame, Too numerous to repeat, too foul to name; 'The vaffals of their monarch's tyranny, Who, at his nod, on fatal errands fly.

Now Celfus, with his glorious guide, invades The filent region of the fleeting shades, Where rocks and rueful deferis are defcry'd, And fullen Styx rolls down his lazy tide; Then shows the ferry-man the plant he bore, And claims his paffage to the further fhore. To whom the Stygian pilot, fmiling, faid, You need no paffport to demand our aid. Phyfians never linger on this strand: Old Charon's prefent ftill at your command. Our awful monarch and his confort owe To them the peopling of the realms below. Then in his fwarthy hand he grafp'd the oar, Receiv'd his guests aboard, and fhov'd from

fhore.

Now, as the goddess and her charge prepare To breathe the fweets of foft Elyfian air, Upon the left they fpy a penfive fhade, Who on his bended arm had rais'd his head:

Pale grief fat heavy on his mournful look;
To whom, not unconcern'd, thus Celfus spoke :
Tell me, thou much afflicted fhade, why fighs
Burft from your breast, and torrents from your
eyes:

And who thofe mangled manes are, which fhow
A fullen fatisfaction at your woe?

Since, faid the ghoft, with pity you'll attend, Know, I'm Guâicum †, once your firmest friend; And on this barren beach in discontent

Am doom'd to ftay, till th' angry powers relent.
Those spectres, feam'd with fcars, that threaten
The victims of my late ill-condu& are. [there,
They vex with endless clamours my repofe :
This wants his palate; that demands his nose :
And here they execute ftern Pluto's will,
And ply me every moment with a pill.

Then Celfus thus: O much-lamented state!
How rigid is the fentence you relate !
Methinks I recollect your former air,

But ah how much you're chang'd from what you were!

Infipid as your late ptifans you lie,

That once were (prightlier far than Mercury.
At the fad tale you tell, the poppies weep,
And mourn their vegetable fouls afleep;
The unctuous larix, and the healing pine,
Lament your fate in tears of turpentine.
But ftill the offspring of your brain shall prove
The grocer's care, and brave the rage of Jove :
When bonfires blaze, your vagrant works fhall

rife

In rockets, till they reach the wondering fkies.
If mortals e'er the Stygian powers could bend,
Intreaties to their awful feats I'll fend.
But, fince no human arts the fates diffuade,
Direct me how to find blefs'd Harvey's fhade.
In vain th' unhappy ghost still urg'd his stay;
Then, rifing from the ground, he fhew'd the way.
Nigh the dull fhore a fhapelefs mountain ftood,
That with a dreadful frown furvey'd the flood.
Its fearful brow no lively greens put on ;
No frifking goats bound o'cr the ridgy ftone.
To gain the fummit the bright goddess try'd;
And Celfus follow'd, by degrees, his guide.
Th' afcent thus conquer'd, now they tower
on high,

And tafte th' indulgence of a milder fky.
Loose breezes on their airy pinions play,
Soft infant bloffoms their chafte odours pay,
And rofes blush their fragrant lives away.
Cool ftreams through flowery meadows gently
glide;

And, as they pafs, their painted banks they chide
Thefe blissful plains no blights nor mildews fear,
The flowers ne'er fade, and fhrubs are myrtles
The morn awakes the tulip from her bed; [here.
Ere noon in painted pride the decks her head,
Robb'd in rich dye fhe triumphs on the green,
And every flower does homage to their queen.
So, when bright Venus rifes from the flood,
Around in throngs the wondering Nereids crowd;
The Tritons gaze, and tune each vocal fhell,
And every grace unfung, the waves conceal.

+ Dr. Morton.

The delegate obferves, with wondering eyes, Ambrofial dews descend, and incense rise; Then haftens onward to the pensive grove, The filent manfion of disastrous love. Here jealousy with jaundic'd looks appears, And broken flumbers, and fantastic fears. The widow'd turtle hangs her moulting wings, And to the woods in mournful murmurs fings. No winds but fighs there are, no floods bur

tears:

Each confcious tree a tragic fignal bears.
Their wounded bark records fome broken vow,
And willow-garlands hang on every bough.
Olivia here in folitude he found,

Her downcaft eyes fix'd on the silent ground :
Her drefs neglected, and unbound her hair,
She feeni'd the dying image of despair.
How lately did this celebrated thing
Blaze in the box, and sparkle in the ring;
Till the green fickness and love's force betray'd
To death's remorfelefs arms th' unhappy maid!
All o'er confus'd the guilty lover stood,
The light forfook his eyes, his cheeks the blood;
An icy horror fhiver'd in his look,
As to the cold-complexion'd nymph he spoke:

Tell me, dear fhade, from whence fuch anxi

ous care,

Your looks diforder'd, and your bofom bare?
Why thus you languish like a drooping flower,
Crush'd by the weight of fome relentless fhower?
Your languid looks your late ill-condu&t tell;
Oh that, instead of trash, you'd taken steel!

Stabb'd with th' unkind reproach, the confcious maid

Thus to her late infulting lover said:
When ladies liften not to loofe defire,
You ftile our modefty our want of fire:
Smile or forbid, encourage or reprove,
You ftill find reafons to believe we love :
Vainly you think a liking we betray,
And never mean the peevish things we fay.
Few are the fair-ones of Rufilla's make,
Unafk'd the grants, uninjur'd fhe'll forfake:
But feveral Calia's, feveral ages boast,
That like, where reafon recommends the moft.
Where heavenly truth and tenderness conspire,
Chafte paffion may perfuade us to defire.

Your fex, he cry'd, as cuftom bids, behaves;
In forms the tyrant tics fuch haughty flaves.
To do nice conduct right, you nature wrong;
Impulfes are but weak, where reafon's ftrong.
Some want the courage; but how few the fiame!
They like the thing, that startle at the name.
The lonely phoenix, though profefs'd a nun,
Warms into love, and kindles at the fun;
Thofe tales of fpicy urns and fragrant fires
Arc but the emblems of her fcorch'd defires.

Then, as he strove to clafp the fleeting fair, His empty arms confefs'd th' impaffive air. From his embrace th' unbody'd fpectre flies, And, as the mov'd, fhe chid him with her eyes.

They haften now to that delightful plain, Where the glad manes of the blefs'd remain : Where Harvey gathers fimples, to beftow Immortal youth on heroes' fhades below.

Soon as the bright Hygeia was in view,
The venerable fage her prefence knew:
Thus he-

Hail, blooming goddefs! thou propitious power,
Whofe bleffings mortals more than life implore!
With fo much luftre your bright looks endear,
That cottages are courts where thofe a pear.
Mankind, as you vouchsafe to fmile or frown,
Finds eafe in chains, or anguish in a crown.

With just resentments and contempt you fee
The foul diffenfions of the faculty:

How your fad fickening art now hangs her head,
And, once a science, is become a trade.
Her fons ne'er rifle her myfterious store,
But ftudy nature lefs, and lucre more.
Not fo when Rome to th' Epidaurian rais'd
A temple, where devoted incense blaz`d.
Oft father Tiber views the lofty fire:
As the learn'd fon is worshipp'd like the fire;
The fage with Romulus like honours claim;
The gift of life and laws were then the fame.
I show'd of old, how vital currents glide,
And the meanders of the refluent tide.
Then, Willis, why fpontaneous actions here,
And whence involuntary motions there:
And how the fpirits, by mechanic laws,
In wild careers tumultuous riots cause.
Nor would our Wharton, Bates, and Gliffon, lie
In the abyss of blind obfcurity.

But now fuch wondrous fearches are foreborn,
And Pæan's art is by divifions torn.
Then let your charge attend, and I'll explain
How her loft health your fcience may regain.
Hafte, and the matchlefs Atticus addrefs,
From Heaven and great Naffau he has the mace.
Th' opprefs'd to his afylum ftill repair;
Arts he supports, and learning is his care,
He foftens the harsh rigour of the laws,
Blunts their keen edge, and grinds their harpy
And graciously he cafts a pitying eye [claws;
On the fad state of virtuous poverty.
Whene'er he fpeaks, Heaven! how the liften-
ing throng
Dwells on the melting mufic of his tongue!

His arguments are emblems of his mien,
Mild, but not faint, and forcing, though ferenc;
And, when he power of eloquence he'd try,
Here lightning ftrikes you; there soft breezes
figh.

To him you must your fickly state refer,
Your charter claims him as your visiter.
Your wounds he'll clofe, and fovereignly restore
Your fcience to the height it had before.

Then Naffau's health fhall be our glorious' aim,

His life fhall be as lafling as his fame.
Some princes' claims from deveftations fpring;
He condefcends in pity to be king;
And, when amidft his olives plac'd he ftands,
And governs more by candour than commands;
Ev'n then not lefs a hero he appears,
Than when his laurel diadem he wears.
Would Phœbus, or his Granville, but infpire
Their facred vehemence of poetic fire;
l'o celebrate in song that godlike power,
Which did the labouring universe restore:
Fair Albions cliffs would echo to the ftrain,
And praise the arm that conquer'd, to regain
The earth's repofe, and empire o'er the main.

Still may th' immortal man his cares repeat,
To make his bleffings endlefs as they're great:
Whilst malice and ingratitude confefs
They've flrove for ruin long without fuccefs.
When, late, Jove's eagle from the pile fhall rife
To bear the victor to the boundless fkies,
A while the god puts off paternal carc,
Neglects the earth, to give the heavens a star.
Near thee, Alcides, fhall the hero fhine;
His rays resembling, as his labours, thine.

Had tome fam'd patriot, of the Latian blood, Like Julius great, and like Octavius good, But thus preferv'd the Latian liberties, Afpiring columns foon had reach'd the fkies: Loud Io's the proud capitol had fhook, And all the ftatues of the gods had spoke.

No more the fage his raptures could purfue: He paus'd; and Cellus with his guide withdrew.

'

"Dryadum fylvas, faltafque fequamur "Intactos, tua, Mæcenas, haud mollia jussa.” VIRGIL.

PREFACE.

THEY that have seen those two excellent poems of Cooper's Hill and Windfor-Forest; the one by Sir J. Denham, the other by Mr. Pope; will fhew a great deal of candour if they approve of this. It was written upon giving the name of Claremont to a villa now belonging to the Earl of Clare. The fituation is fo agreeable and furprifing, that it inclines one to think fome place of this nature put Ovid at first upon the ftory of Narciffus and Echo. It is probable he had observed fome fpring arifing amongst woods and rocks, where echoes were heard; and fome flower bending over the stream, and by confequence reflected from it. After reading the story in the third book of the Metamorphofis, it is obvious to object (as an ingenious friend has already done) that the renewing the charms of a nymph, of which Ovid hand difpoffeffed her,

They who would be more informed of what relates to the ancient Britons, and the Druids their priests, may confult Pliny, Ovid, and the other claffic authors that have mentioned them.

CLAREMONT.

WHAT frenzy has of late poffefs'd the brain!
Though few can write, yet fewer can refrain,
So rank our foil, or bards rise in such store,
Their rich retaining patrons fcarce are more.
The laft indulge the fault the first commit;
And take of ftill the offal of their wit.
So shameless, so abandon'd are their ways;
They poach Parnaffus, and lay fnares for praise.
None ever can without admirers live,
Who have a penfion or a place to give.
Great minifters ne'er fail of great deferts;
The herald gives them blood, the poet parts.
Senfe is of courfe annex'd to wealth and power;
No mufe is proef against a golden fhower.
Let but his lordship write fome poor lampoon,
He's Horac
He's Horac d up in doggrel like his own:
Or, if to rant in tragic rage he yields, [fields.
Falfe fame cries-Athens; honeft truth-Moor-
Thus fool'd, he flounces on through flods of ink;
Flags with full fail; and rifes but to fink.

Some venal pens fo prostitute the bays,
Their panegyric lafh; their fatires praife.
So naufeoufly, and fo unlike, they paint,
N's an Adonis; Mr, a faint.
Metius with thof fam'd heroes is compar'd,
That led in triumph Porus and Tallard.
But such a shamele fs mufe muft laughter move,
That aims to make Salmoneus vie with Jove

To form great works, puts fate itself to pain;
Fv'n nature labours for a mighty man,
And, to perpetuate her hero's fame,
She ftrains no lefs a peet next to frame.
Rare as the hero's, is the poet's rage;
Churchills and Drydeus rife but once an age.
With earthquakes to wering Pindar's birth begun;
And an ecliple produc'd Alcniena's fon.
The fire of gods o'er Phœbus caft a fhade
But, with a hero, well the world repaid.