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TO & M S

319 Phebus she prais'd, but fcorns the (wain

Pour out new day?--how wondrous bright!
Then, breaking from this dark disguise,

Some god descends to human fight;
When Phæbus what he is shall seem,

I'm charm'd, yet aw'd with fear.
My glittering rays, and melting lyre,

At last shall warm thee to desire,

Daphne, on Phæbus fix thy eye,
And wake thee, Daphre, from thy dream.

With meaner shapes deceiv'd no more !

Know, I thy beauteous form adore :
Where Cupid's bow is failing,

Wilt thou a god, a god that loves thee, fly?
Ambition's charms prevailing,
Shall triumph o'er the fair.

[Apollo Arikes bis lyre, and Daphnc turns back e The nymph that love despises,

surprised at the found.)
Some secret passion prizes,
That still forbids despair. [Exit Apollo. Fairest mortal! stay and hear,

Tum thie, leave thy trembling fear!

Cannot love with music join'd
Enter Daphne and Doris.

Touch thy unrelenting mind?

Fairest mortal! stay and hear,

Turn thee, leave thy trembling fear.
Doris, why this trifling tale?

Hark how the river-thores prolong
That good advice may once prevail;

My soft complaints, and purmur to my song!
Save one--nor all your lovers losc,

Thy father Peoeus feels my pain;
Alas! that I, poor I might gain

See how his ofiers greatly bow,
What you each day refuse!

And seem my secret soul to know
Take all, and ease me of the pain,

Dapb. Calidz.) Alas! my rash, my fatal vow!

Apol. Wilt thou alone unmov'd renain?
I would-but ah! 'twere now in vain.
When I was a maiden of twenty,

[As Daphne is roing out, soe jops, and ing

coing je
And my charms and my lovers were plenty,

the following air.)
Ah! why did I ever say no?
Now the swains, though I court them, all fly me,

I figh, but no lover comes nigh me;

Shall I return or no?
Ye virgins, he wasn'd by my woe!

Charnis yet unknown surround me;
Ah! why did I ever say no!

Yet, love, chou ne'er fhalt wound me

No more alarmı ny breast.
Poor Doris! dry thy weeping eyes;

Then let me haste to go Dost thou repent thuu once wert wise ?

Ah no, my heart replies

In tender heaving fighs
Tender hearts to every passion

Ye powers restore my rest.
Still thy freedom would betray,
But how calm is inclination,


O do not gomo
When our reason bears the fway!

Daph. Dost thou not know,

I'm of Diana's train?
Swains themselves, while they pursue us,

Thy love forbear-
Often teach us to deny.

Apol. Thy scorn forbear-
While we fly, they fondly woo us;

Daph. I must not hear;
If we grow too fond, they fly.

Apol. O stay and hear;

. love

is vain Yet might I fec one courting swain,

. flight Though but to flight him once again !-

(Exit Daphne pursued by Apollo. But come- I'll amorous thoughes give o'er.

'Tis well to leave them at threescore.

Scene changes to the River.
Halte then, and at th' appointed place,
See if the nymphs cxpect me for the chase.

Re-enter Daphne, looking back as afrighted.
(Exit Doris.

Daphne. [ A Symphony of infiruments is beard, whilf Apollo

He comes the swift pursuer comes, where desconds in the chariot oj' the fun; a crown of rays

Shall I escape his piercing right,

Where hide me from the god of light? about' bis bead, and bis lyre in bis band.]

Ah ! 'tis in vainhe's here.


What founds celestial srike my ear !
Why does the golden luurce of light

(Daphne runs to the fide of the river, and

as the fires the following air, is transforzsed irito a lavrel-free.]




Father Peneus, hear me, aid me!

To all Britannia's realms around,
Let some sudden change invade me,

The double festival proclaim.
Fix me rooted on thy hore.
Cease, Apollo, to persuade me,

The goddess of immortal same
I am Daphne now no more.

Shall, with her trumpet's swelling found,

To all Britannia's realnrs around,
[Apollo enters at the latter end of the The double festival proclaim.
air, and is met by Peneus.]

O'er Canibria's diftant hills let the loud notes re-

bound! O fatal fight !-o curft disdain !

Each British soul be rais'd, and every eye be gay! O Peneus, how shall we our loss deplore ?

To joy, to criumphs, dedicate the day.
But see!
The trembling branches yet her shape retain !

Hail, Cambria ! long to fame well known!
Though Daphne lives a nymph no inore,
She lives, fair verdant plant, in thee:

Thy patron saint looks smiling down,
Henceforth be thou Apollo's tree,

Well pleas'd to see

This day, prolific of renown, And hear what honours to thy leaves remain.

Increas'd in honours to himself, and thee; No thunder e'er shall blast thy boughs,

See Carolina's natal Itar arise,
Preserv'd to grace Apollo's brows,

And with new beams adorn thy azure skies!
Kings, victors, poets, to adorn;
Ofe in Britannia's ifle thy prosperous green

Though od her virtues I should ever dwell,

Fame cannot all her numerous virtues tell. Shall on the heads of her great chiefs be seen,

Bright in herself, and in her offspring bright, And by a Nassau, and a George, be worn.

On Britain's throne she casts diffusive light;

Detradion from her presence flies;
Still Peneus, with a father's care,
Shall feed thee from his fowing urn

And, while promiscuous crowds in rapture gaze,

Ev'n congues disloyal learn her praise, With verdure ever fresh and fair,

And murmuring envy fees her file, and dies, Nor this thy deftin'd change shall mourn.

Happy inorn! such gifts bestowing:
CHORUS, or Duetto of Apollo and Peneus.

Britain's joys from thee are filowing;
Nature alone can love inspire,

Ever thus auspicious shine!
Art is vain to move degre.

Happy ifle ! such gifts poflcfling!
If nature once the fair incline,

Britain, ever own the blessing!
To their own passion they resiga.

Carolina's charms are thine.
Nature alone can love inspire,

Art is vain to move defirc.

Nor yet, O Fame, dost thou difplay

All the criumphs of this day;
More wonders yet arise to light;

Sée! o'er these rites what nighty power presides;

Behold, to chce his carly steps he guides; FOR THE BIRTH-DAY OF HER ROYAL HIGNESS What noble ardour doc: his soul excite; THE PRINCESS OF WALES,

Henceforth, when to the listening universe

Thou number'it o'er ny princes of renown,

The second hope of Britain's crown,
Set to Mufie by Dr. Popusoh,

When my great Edward's deeds thou shalt rehearse, And performed at the Anniverfary Mreling of the So

And tell of Creffy's well-fought plain, ciety of Ancient Britons, tablifocil in honour of Her

Thy golden trumpet found again! Royal Highnesi's Birth-Day, ini of the Principality

The brave Augustus Mall renew thy strain, of Wales.

And Oudenarda's fight inimortalize the verse. u Salve læta dies! meliorquc revertere femper,

AIR, with a Harp.
A populo rerum digna potente coli!

Heavenly muses! tune your lyres,

Far resounding;
Grace the hero's glorious name.

See ! the fong new life inspires !

Every breast with joy abounding,

Seems to share the hero's flame.
Firf Voce, FAME.

Second l'olæ, CAMBRIA, or the Principality of W'ales.

O thou, with every virtue crown'd,
BOTH voices, with a Trumpet.

Britannia's father, and her king renown'd!
To joy, to triumphs, dedicate the day!

Thus in thy offspring greatly blest,

While through th’extended royal linc Rise, goddess of immortal fame,

Thou seeft thy propagated lustre shine, And, with thy trumpet's swelling round, What secret raptures fill thy breaft!





O È M S.

321 So smiles Apollo, doublyk gay,

“ I am very happy in the occaGon which shewed When in the diamond, with full blaze,

" it me in a quite different sense from what I had He views his own paternal rays,

ever apprehended, til I had the honour to be And all his bright reflected day.

“ known to your Lordship; I am sure a much

more advantageous one to the poet, as well as Hail source of blessings to our ille!

" inore just to his great parron. If I have exWhile gloomy clouds shall take cheir flight, ceeded the liberty of an imitator, in pursuing the Shot through by thy victorious light,

“ fame hint further, to make it less doubtful, yet Propitious ever on thy Britons (mile!

« his favourers will forgive me, when I own I have

not on this occalion so much thought of emulzeTo joy, to triumphs, dedicate the day.

iog, his poetry, as of rivaling his pride, by the

« ambition of being known as, Rise, goddess of immortal fame,

MY LORD, And with thy trumpet's swelling sound,

Your Lordship's most obliged, To all Britannia's realnis around,

and devoted humble servant, The double festival proclaim.

J. Hocezs
The goddess of immortal fanie
Shall, with her trumpet's swelling sound,
To all Britannia's realms around,
The double festival proclaini.

O'er Cambria's distant hills let the loud notes re.

To the Right Honourable

Each British foul be rais'd, and every eye be gay!
To joy, to triumphs, dedicate the day.

In illufson to Horace, Lib. ii. Ode I,



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I’m rais'd, transported, chang'd all o'er!

Prepar'd, a towering (wan, to foar
Aloft ; fee, fed the down arise,
And clothe my back, and plume my thighs!
My wings shoot forth; now will I try

New tracks, and boldly mount the sky;
" This little poeni was writ by this acci- Nor envy, nor ill-fortune's spice,
" dent of having Horace for my companion in a Shall Aop my course, or danıp ny flight,
" confinement by lickness, and fancying I had dif-
" covered a new sense of one of his odes, for which Shall 1, obscure or diseftcem'},

I have found your Lordship's great indulgence of vulgar rank henceforth be deem'd? " and partiality to me, the best exposition, Or vainly toil niy name to save

Perhaps we never read with that attention, as From dark oblivion and the grave ? “ when we think we have found something appli-No-He can never wholly die, “ cable to ourselves. I am now grown fond enough Secure of immortality, in of this sense to believe it the true one, and have Whom Britain's Cowper condescends, “ drawn two or three learned friends (to wlion I To own, and numbers with his friends. " have mentioned it) into my opinion.

“ The Ode, your Lordship will fee, is that in 'Tis done-'I scorn mean honours now; " which Horace fcigns himself turned into a swan. No common wreaths thall bind my brov, " It passes (for aught I know universally) for a Whether the mufe vouchsafe t'inspire

compliment on himself, and a mere enthusiastic My breast with the celestial fire; " rant of the poet in his own praise, like his exegi Whether my verfe be fill'd with flanie,

monumentum, Ei. I confess T had often slightly Or I deserve a poat's name, " read it in that view, and have fuund every one Let Fame be silent; only tell * I have lately asked, deceived by the same opi- That generous Cowper loves me well. " nion, which I cannot but think spoils the ode, " and links it to nothing; I had almost said, turns Through Britain's realms I shall be knowna o the fwan into a goose.

By Cowper's merit, not my own. “The grammarians seem to have fallen into this and when the comb my dust fall hide, mistake, by wholly overlooking the reason of his | Stripp'd of a' niorcar's little pride,

rapture, viz. its being addressed to Mæcenas; and Vain pomp be spar'd, and every tear ; " have prefaced it with this, and the like general | Lei but some stone this fculpture bear; er inscriptionsm-vaticinatur carminum fuorum immorta- “ Here lics his day to earth consign'd, lilatem, &c. which I think is not the subject. To whom great Cowper once was kind.". Vol. VII.



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Thou propagated fully!--What in thee

Could heaven's Supreme, could perfect Wildon see,

To fix one glance of his regarding eye? () son of man! O creature of a day!

Why are thou chose the favourite of the sky? Proud of vain wisdom, with false greatness gay! While angels wonder at the mercy known, Heir of thy father's vice, to whose bad store And scarce the wretch himself the debt immense Thy guilty days are fpeut in adding more;

will own!





POURQUOI ces elephans, ces armes, ce bagage, WAAT mean these elephants, arms, warlike store, Et ces vaisseaux trut prests à quitter le rivage ? And all these ships, prepar'd to leave the shore? Disoit au roi Pyrrhus, un sage confident,

Thus Cyncas, faithful, old, experienc'd, wife, Conseiller tres-censé d'un roi tres-imprudent. Address'd king Pyrrhus;-thus the king replies; Je vais, lui dit ce prince, à Rome où l'on m'apelle. 'Tis glory calls us hence; to Rome we go. Quoi faire ? l'alieger. L'entreprise est fort belle, For what ? --To conquer.---Rome's a noble foe, Et digne seulement d'Alexandre ou de vous, A prize for Alexander fit, or you ; Mais quand nous l'aurons prise, & bien que ferons. But Rome reduc'd, what next, Sir, will you do? nous ?

The rest of Italy my chains shall wear. Du reste des Latins la conqueste este facile. And is that all ?-No, Sicily lies. near; Sans doute, ils sont à nous : est-ce tout ? La Sicilc See how she stretches out her beauteous arms, Delà nous tend les bras et bien-toft fans effort And tempts the victor with unguarded charms ! Syracuse recoit nos vaisseaux dans son port. In Syracusa's port this fleet shall ride. En demeurés-vous là ? Dés que nous l'aurons prise, 'Tis well—and there you will at last abide ? Il ne faut qu'un bon vent et Carthage est conquise: No; that subdued, again we'll hoist our fails, Les chemins sont ouverts : qui peut nous arrester? And put to sea; and, blow but prosperous gales, Je vous entene, seigneur, nous allons tout dompter: Carthage must foon be ours, an easy prey, Nous allons traverser les sables de Lybie;

The paffage upen : what obstructs our way?Afservir en passant l'Egypte, l'Arabie;

Then, Sir, your vast design I understand, Courir delà le Gange en de nouveaux païs; To conquer all the carth, cross feas and land, Faire trembler le Scythe aux bords du Tanais; O'er Afric's spacious wilds your reign extend, Et ranger sous nos loix tout ce vaste Hemisphere; Beneath your sword inake proud Arabia bend; Mais de retour enfin, que pretendez-vous faire ? Then feck remoter worlds, where Ganges pours Alors, cher Cineas, vi&orieux, contens,

His swelling stream; beyond Hydaspes' shores,
Nous pourrons rire à l'aise, et prendre da bon temps. Through Indian realms to carry dire alarms,
Hé, feigneur, dés ce jour, sans fortir de l'Epire, And make the hardy Scythian dread your arms.
Du Datin jusqu'au soir qui vous défend dc rire? But say--this wondrous race of glory run,

When we return, say what shall then be done?
Then pleas d, my friend, we'll spend the joyful day
In full delight, and laugh our cares away.
And why not now? Alas! Sir, necd we roam
For this so far, or quit our native home?
No let us now each valued hour employ,
Nor for the future lose the prefent joy.

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April himself, though in fo fair a dress But sec-what sudden gloom obscures the air ! He clothe the meads, though his delicious showers What falling showers impetuous change the day ! Awake the blossoms and the breathing flowers, Let's rise, my lyre-Ah pleasure false as fair ! And new.create the fragrant year; How faithless are thy charms, how More thy Ray! April himself, or brighter May,

Affitted by the god of day,

Never made your grove so gay,

Or half so full of charms appear.

Whatever rural seat she now doth grace,

And lines a goddess of the plains,

Imperial love new triumphs there ordains, Ye muses, that frequent thesc walks and shades, Renoves with her from place to place, The seat of calm repose,

With her he keeps his court, and where the lives Which Howard's happy genius chose;

he reigns. Where, taughe by you, his lyre he strung,

'A thousand bright attendants more And oft, like Philumel, in dusky glades,

Her glorious equipage conipose : Sweet ainorous voluntaries sung !

There circling pleasure ever flows : O say, ye kind inspiring powers !

Friendship, and arts, a well-felected store, With what melodious Train

Good-humour, wit, and music's soft delight, Will you indulge my pensive veio,

The forten'd ininutes there beguile, And charm my solitary hours?

And sparkling mirth, that cever looks so bright,

As when it lightens io Molinda's smile. Begin, and Echo shall the song repeat;

While, skreen'd from Auguft's feverish beat, Thither, ye guardian powers (if such there are Beneath this spreading exlm I lie,

deputed from the sky And view the yellow harvest for around,

To watch o'er human-kind with friendly care),
The neighbouring fields with picoty crown'd, Thither, ye geotle fpirits, fly!
And over head a fair unclouded sky.

If goodness like your own can move
The wood, the park's romantic scene,

Your constant Zeal, your tenderest lore,
The deer, that innocent and gay

For ever wait on this accomplish'd fair!
On the soft turf's perpetual green

Shield her from every ruder breath of air,
Pass all their lives in love and play,

Nor let invading sickness come
Are various objects of delight,

To blast those beauties in their bloom.
That sport with fancy, and invite

May no misguided choice, no hapless doom,
Your aid, the pleasure to coniplete;

Disturb the heaven of her fair life
Begin-and Echo hall the long repeat.

With clouds of grief, or showers of snelting tears;

Let harth unkindness, and urgenernus strife,
Hark!--the kind inspiring powers

Repining discontent, and boding fears,
Answer from their secret bowers,

With every shape of woe be driven away,
Propitious to my call!

Let ghosts prohibited the day.
They join the choral voices all,

Let Peace o'er her his dovelike wings display,
To charm my solitary hours.

And smiling joys crown all her blissful years!
Liften, they cry, thou pensive swain !
Though noch the tuneful fifters love
The fields, the park, she shady grove :
The fields, and park, and shady grove,

The tuneful fillers now disdain,

And choose to sooth thee with a sweeter train;

Mulinda's praises shall our skill employ,
Molinda, Nature's pride, and every mufe's joy! While o'er the cloth thy happy pencil strays,
The uses triumph'd at her birth,

And the pleas'd eye its artful course surveys,
When, first descending fronı her parent skice, Behold the magic power of shade and lighe!
This flar of beauty shot to earth;

A new creation opens to our sight.
Love saw the fires that darted from her eyes, Here tufted groves rise bollly to the sky,
He law, and finil'doche winged boy

There spacious lawns more distant charm the eye;
Gave early omens of her conquering fame, The crystal lakes in borrow'd cinctures fhine,
And to his mother lisp'd her name,

And niilly hills the fair horizon join,
Molinda !--Nature's pride, and every niuse's joy. Lost in the azure borders of the day,

Like sounds reniote that die in alt away. Say, beavtcous Afted l has thy honour'd shade The peopled prospect various pleasure yields, Ever receiv'd that lovely maid ?

Sheep grace the hills, and herds or livains the fields; Ye nymphs and sylvan deities, confess

Harmonione order o'er the whole présides, That shining festal day of happiness !

And Nature crowns the work, which Judgment For if the lovely maid was here,



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