The trembling branches yet her shape retain !
Though Daphne lives a nymph no more,
She lives, fair verdant plant, in thee:
Henceforth be thou Apollo's tree,
And hear what honours to thy leaves remain.
No thunder e'er fhall blast thy boughs,
Preferv'd to grace Apollo's brows,
Kings, victors, poets, to adorn;
Oft in Britannia's ifle thy profperous green
Shall on the heads of her great chiefs be feen,
And by a Naffau, and a George, be worn.
Peneus.
Still Peneus, with a father's care,
Shall feed thee from his flowing urn
With verdure ever fresh and fair,
Nor this thy deftin'd change shall mourn.
CHORUS, or Duetto of Apollo and Peneus.
Nature alone can love infpire,
Art is vain to move defire.
If nature once the fair incline,
To their own paffion they refign.
Nature alone can love inspire,
Art is vain to move defire,
To all Britannia's realms around, The double festival proclaim.
The goddess of immortal fame
Shall, with her trumpet's fwelling found,
To all Britannia's realms around,
The double feftival proclaim.
O'er Cambria's diftant hills let the loud notes re
Each British foul be rais'd, and every eye be gay! To joy, to triumphs, dedicate the day.
Hail, Cambria ! long to fame well known! Thy patron faint looks fmiling down,
Well pleas'd to fee
This day, prolific of renown,
Increas'd in honours to himself, and thee;
See Carolina's natal ftar arife,
And with new beams adorn thy azure skies!
Though on her virtues I should ever dwell,
Fame cannot all her numerous virtues tell.
Bright in herself, and in her offspring bright,
On Britain's throne the cafts diffufive light;
Detraction from her prefence flies;
And, while promifcuous crowds in rapture gaze,
Ev'n tongues difloyal learn her praise,
And murmuring envy fees her fmile, and dies.
Happy morn! fuch gifts bestowing!
Britain's joys from thee are flowing;
Ever thus aufpicious shine!
Happy ifle fuch gifts poffefling!
Britain, ever own the blefling!
Carolina's charms are thine.
CAMBRIA.
Nor yet, O Fame, doft thou difplay
All the triumphs of this day;
More wonders yet arife to fight;
See! o'er these rites what mighty power prefides ;
Behold, to thee his early steps he guides;
What noble ardour docs his foul excite;
Henceforth, when to the liftening univerfe
Thou number'st o'er my princes of renown,
The second hope of Britain's crown,
When my great Edward's deeds thou fhalt rehearfe,
And tell of Creffy's well-fought plain,
Thy golden trumpet found again!
And Oudenarda's fight inmortalize the verse,
The brave Auguftus fhall renew thy ftrain,
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am very happy in the occafion which fhewed "it me in a quite different fenfe from what I had ever apprehended, till I had the honour to be known to your Lordship; I am fure a much more advantageous one to the poet, as well as "more just to his great patron. If I have ex"ceeded the liberty of an imitator, in purfùing the "fame hint further, to make it lefs doubtful, yet "his favourers will forgive me, when I own I have "not on this occasion so much thought of emulɔting his poetry, as of rivaling his pride, by the "ambition of being known as,
Shall I, obfcure or difefteem'd,
Of vulgar rank henceforth be deem'd?
Or vainly toil my name to fave
From dark oblivion and the grave?
Perhaps we never read with that attention, as "when we think we have found fomething appli-No-He can never wholly die, "cable to ourselves. I am now grown fond enough "of this fenfe to believe it the true one, and have "drawn two or three learned friends (to whom I "have mentioned it) into my opinion.
"The Ode, your Lordship will fee, is that in " which Horace fcigns himself turned into a swan. "It pafes (for aught I know univerfally) for a compliment on himself, and a mere enthufiaftic rant of the poet in his own praise, like his exegi monumentum, &c. I confefs I had often flightly "read it in that view, and have found every one "I have lately afked, deceived by the fame opinion, which I cannot but think spoils the ode, "and finks it to nothing; I had almost faid, turns "the fwan into a goofe.
The grammarians feem to have fallen into this "mistake, by wholly overlooking the reafon of his rapture, viz. its being addressed to Mæcenas; and "have prefaced it with this, and the like general "infcriptions-vaticinatur carminum fuorum immortalitatem, &c. which I think is not the fubject. VOL. VII.
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Whom Britain's Cowper candefcends.
To own, and numbers with his friends.
'Tis done-I fcorn mean honours now;
No common wreaths fhall bind my brow
Whether the mufe vouchfafe t'infpire
My breaft with the celestial fire;
Whether my verfe be fill'd with flame,
Or I deserve a poet's name,
Let Fame be filent; only tell
That generous Cowper loves me well.
Through Britain's realms I fhall be known
By Cowper's merit, not my own.
And when the tomb my dust fhall hide,
Stripp'd of a mortal's little pride,
Vain pomp be fpar'd, and every tear ;
Let but fome ftone this fculpture bear;
"Here lies his lay to earth confign'd,
To whom great Cowper once was kind.”.
X
O Son of man! O creature of a day!
Proud of vain wisdom, with false greatnefs gay!
Heir of thy father's vice, to whofe bad store
Thy guilty days are fpeut in adding more;
Thou propagated folly!-What in thee
Could heaven's Supreme, could perfect Wildon fee,
To fix one glance of his regarding eye?
Why art thou chofe the favourite of the fky?
While angels wonder at the mercy known,
And scarce the wretch himself the debt immenfe
will own!
DANS SA 1. EPISTRE AU ROỶ.
Pourquoi ces elephans, ces armes, ce bagage,
Et ces vaiffeaux tout prefts à quitter le rivage
Difoit au roi Pyrrhus, un fage confident,
Confeiller tres-fenfé d'un roi tres-imprudent.
Je vais, lui dit ce prince, à Rome où l'on m'apelle.
Quoi faire? l'aflieger. L'entreprise eft fort belle,
Et digne feulement d'Alexandre ou de vous,
Mais quand nous l'aurons prife, & bien que ferons
nous ?
Du reste des Latins la conqueste efte facile.
Sans doute, ils font à nous: eft-ce tout? La Sicile
Delà nous tend les bras et bien-toft fans effort
Syracufe recoit nos vaiffeaux dans fon port.
En demeurés-vous là? Dés que nous l'aurons prife,
Il ne faut qu'un bon vent et Carthage eft conquife:
Les chemins font ouverts: qui peut nous arrefter?
Je vous entens, feigneur, nous allons tout dompter:
Nous allons traverser les fables de Lybie;
Affervir en paffant l'Egypte, l'Arabie;
Courir delà le Gange en de nouveaux païs;
Faire trembler le Scythe aux bords du Tanaïs ;
Et ranger fous nos loix tout ce vafte Hemisphere;
Mais de retour enfin, que pretendez-vous faire ?
Alors, cher Cineas, victorieux, contens,
Nous pourrons rire à l'aife, et prendre du bon temps.
Hé, feigneur, dés ce jour, fans fortir de l'Epire,
Du matin jusqu'au foir qui vous défend de rire ?
FROM BOILEAU,
IN HIS FIRST EPISTLE TO LEWIS XIV.
WHAT mean thefe elephants, arms, warlike ftore,
And all these ships, prepar'd to leave the fhore?
Thus Cyneas, faithful, old, experienc'd, wife,
Addrefs'd king Pyrrhus;-thus the king replies;
'Tis glory calls us hence; to Rome we go.
For what?-To conquer.-Rome's a noble foe,
A prize for Alexander fit, or you;
But Rome reduc'd, what next, Sir, will you do?
The rest of Italy my chains fhall wear.
And is that all?-No, Sicily lies near;
See how fhe ftretches out her beauteous arms,
And tempts the victor with unguarded charms!
In Syracufa's port this fleet fhall ride.
'Tis well-and there you will at last abide ?—
No; that fubdued, again we'll hoift our fails,
And put to fea; and, blow but profperous gales,
Carthage muft foon be ours, an easy prey,
The paffage open: what obftru&ts our way?-
Then, Sir, your vaft defign I understand,
To conquer all the carth, crofs feas and land,
O'er Afric's spacious wilds your reign extend,
Beneath your fword make proud Arabia bend;
Then feek remoter worlds, where Ganges pours
His fwelling ftream; beyond Hydafpes' fhores,
Through Indian realms to carry dire alarms,
And make the hardy Scythian dread your arms.
But fay-this wondrous race of glory run,
When we return, fay what fhall then be done?
Then pleas'd, my friend, we'll fpend the joyful day
In full delight, and laugh our cares away.
And why not now? Alas! Sir, need we roam
For this fo far, or quit our native home?
No-let us now each valued hour employ,
Nor for the future lofe the prefent joy.
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Begin, and Echo fhall the fong repeat;
While, fkreen'd from Auguft's feverish heat, Beneath this spreading Am I lie, And view the yellow harvest far around,
The neighbouring fields with plenty crown'd, And over head a fair unclouded sky.
The wood, the park's romantic scene,
The deer, that innocent and gay
On the soft turf's perpetual green
Pafs all their lives in love and play,
Are various objects of delight,
That fport with fancy, and invite
Your aid, the pleasure to complete ;
Begin-and Echo shall the song repeat.
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Hark-the kind inspiring powers
Answer from their fecret bowers,
Propitious to my call!
They join the choral voices all,
To charm my folitary hours.
Liften, they cry, thou penfive fwain !
Though much the tuneful fifters love
The fields, the park, the fhady grove:
The fields, and park, and fhady grove,
The tuneful fiflers now difdain,
And choose to footh thee with a sweeter ftrain; Molinda's praifes fhall our skill employ, Molinda, Nature's pride, and every muse's joy!
The mufes triumph'd at her birth, When, first defcending from her parent skies, This flar of beauty fhot to earth;
Love faw the fires that darted from her eyes, He faw, and fimil'd-the winged boy Gave early omens of her conquering fame, And to his mother lifp'd her name, Molinda!-Nature's pride, and every mufe's joy,
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April himself, though in fo fair a drefs
He clothe the meads, though his delicious fhowers
Awake the bloffoms and the breathing flowers,
And new-create the fragrant year;
April himself, or brighter May,
Affifted by the god of day,
Never made your grove fo gay,
Or half fo full of charms appear.
Whatever rural feat fhe now doth grace,
And fhines a goddess of the plains,
Imperial love new triumphs there ordains,
Removes with her from place to place,
With her he keeps his court, and where the lives he reigns.
A thousand bright attendants more
Her glorious equipage compose :
There circling pleasure ever flows :
Friendship, and arts, a well-felected ftore,
Good-humour, wit, and mufic's foft delight,
The fhorten'd minutes there beguile,
And sparkling mirth, that never looks fo bright,
As when it lightens in Molinda's fmile.
Thither, ye guardian powers (if fuch there are deputed from the sky
To watch o'er human-kind with friendly care), Thither, ye gentle fpirits, fly!
If goodness like your own can move Your conftant zeal, your tendereft love, For ever wait on this accomplish'd fair! Shield her from every ruder breath of air, Nor let invading fickness come
To blast thofe beauties in their bloom. May no misguided choice, no hapless doom,
Disturb the heaven of her fair life With clouds of grief, or fhowers of melting tears ; Let harsh unkindness, and ungenerous ftrife, Repining difcontent, and boding fears, With every shape of woe be driven away,
Let ghosts prohibited the day.
Let Peace o'er her his dovelike wings difplay,
And fmiling joys crown all her blissful years!
WHILE o'er the cloth thy happy pencil strays,
And the pleas'd eye its artful courfe furveys,
Behold the magic power of fhade and light!
A new creation opens to our fight.
Here tufted groves rife boldly to the fky,
There fpacious lawns more diftant charm the eye;
The crystal lakes in borrow'd tinctures fhine,
And mifly hills the fair horizon join,
Loft in the azure borders of the day,
Like founds remote that die in aft away.
The peopled profpect various pleafure yields,
Sheep grace the hills, and herds or fwains the fields;
Harmonious order o'er the whole prefides,
And Nature crowns the work, which Judgment
guides.
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