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Nor with less skill display'd by thee appear
Not Ceres' self more blessings could display, The different products of the fertile year;
When through the earth she took her wandering
Diffus'd ripe harvests through the teeming ground.
Mean while our drooping vales deserted mourn,
New honours then, Uraria, shall be thine,
So when of late our sun was veil'd from light
Broke through the gloom, and re-enthron'd the day,
The herds reviv'd, the birds renew'd their straids, TO URANIA,
Unusual transports rais'd the cheerful swains,
And joy returning echo'd through ihe plains. ON HER ARRIVAL AT JAMAICA.
TIROUGH yielding waves the vessel swiftly flies,
SUPPLEMENT AND CONCLUSION
To Mr. Milton's incomparable Poem, entitled, Il Pen. From fam'd Peru, or Chili's golden coast !
feroso, or The Pensive Man, was also writ by
It seems necessary to quote the eight foregoing lines
for the right understanding of it. So from the sea when Venus rofe serene,
"And may at last my weary age
• Find out the peaceful hermitage,
"The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may fit, and rightly spell
· Of every star that heaven doth shew,
· And every herd that lips the dew; And Nature own'a th' auspicious Queen of Love.
« Till old experience do attain Henceforth no more the Cyprian ile be nam'd,
"To fomething like prophetic strain.' Though for the abode of that bright goddess fam'd;
There let tinie's creeping winter shed
His hoary snow around my head;
And while I feel, by fast degrees,
My sluggard blood wax chill, and frecze,
Let thought unveil to my fixt eye
The scenes of deep eternity,
Till life diffolving at the view,
I wake, and find those visions true!
THE HUE AND CRY.
Oros! -Hear, all ye beaux and wits,
All, who in town or country dwell!
of Tortorella's hafty flight?
Why in new groves she takes delight,
Now learn the marks, by which you may
P Q E M S.
325 Sonic wit, more folly, and no care,
Safe in his judgment, on his faith rely, Thoughtless her conduct, free her air;
And prize the worth which kingdoms cannot buy! Gay, scornful, rober, indiscreet, In whom all contradi&ions meet;
Rich in itself, the genuine diamond shines, Civil, affronting, peevih, easy,
And owes its value to its native mines; Form'd both to charm you and displease you ; Yet set in Britain's crown, drinks ampler rays Much wagt of judgment, none of pride,
Of the sun's light, and casts a wider blaze. Modith her dress, her hoop full wide;
With pleasure we the well-plac'd gem behold, Brown skin, her eyes of fable hue,
That adds a lustre to the royal gold.
January 25. 1717-18.
SECOND SCENE OF THE FIRST ACT
ORESTES, A TRAGEDY.
TRANSLATED FROM EURIPIDES.
Argument. By this description, if you meet her,
Orestes had killed his mother Clytemnestra, in reWith lowly bows, and homage greet her;
venge of his father's death, who was murdered And if you bring the vagrant beauty
by her. This part of the story is the subject of Back to her mother and her duty,
the Electra of Sophocles, where, in the concluAf for reward a lover's bliss,
Lon of the play, Clytemnestra is heard behind And (if she'll let you) take a kiss;
the scene crying out in vain for mercy, while Or more, if more you wish and may,
her son is executing his revenge. Ferhaps this Try if at church the words she'll say,
play was written first; and Euripides took up Then make her, if you can" obey."
the story where the other left off. The reflection on his guilt in putting his mother to death,
though a criminal, with his own hands, filled THE PATRIOT.
Orestes's mind with so much horror as after- .
wards caused his distraction. In this condition To the Right Honourable
he is represented in the following scene, lying WILLIAM LORD COWPER,
on a couch, and his sister Electra, with a chorus of Grecian women, waiting near him.
LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN
I shall detain the reader no longer than to observe, How godlike is the man, how truly great,
that the tenderness of Electra, and the alternate Who, midst contending factions of the state,
starts and returns of madness and reason in OIQ council cool, in resolution bold,
reftes, are touched with the moft exquisite Nor brib'd by hopes, nor by mean fears controld, ftrokes of nature and pallion. And proof alike against both foes and friends, Ne'er from the golden mean of virtue bends !
Chorus, Orefles, Elfire. But wisely fix'd, nor to extremes inclin'd,
Chorus Maintains the steady purpose of his mind.
Draw near, Electra, to thy brother's couch;
See if he breathes; this long-protracted reft So Atlas, pois'd on his broad bafe, defies May end in death, and fatally deceive thee. The shock of gathering storms and wintry skies;
Orefies, waking Above the clouds, ferene, he lifts his brow,
O sweet refreshing Ocep! thou balmy cure And sees unmov'd the thunder brcak below, Of fckness and of pain !
How has thy gentle power at length reliev'd me! But where's the patriot, by these virtues known, O soft oblivion of furrounding ills, Unsway'd by others paffions, or his owu?
How grateful to th' afflicted are thy charms! Just to his prince, and to the public true,
Where am I?--peak--inform me, tell me where That shuns, in all events, each partial vicw ? How ame I hither? for I know not how! That ne'er forgets the whole of things to weigh, ilas! I've lately been bereft of reason! And scorns the short-liv'd wisdom of a day? And now no tract of former thought remains.
Elettra, If there be one-hold muse, nor more reveal- O my much-lov'd Orestes! O my brother ! (Yet oh that numbers could his nanie conceal!) With joy I've watch'd o'er thy late healing flum. Thrice happy Britain, of such wealth pollest!
bers. On thy farm throne, great George, unshaken rest, Commhall I help to raise thee from thy couch?
Orefies. Soft, I pray thee-firit wipe away these drops, Beware then-fhun the deeds of impious women. That sit all dewy o'er my face.
Wear no false face-be good, as well as seem loElectra.
Beware I sayo Ye gods!
Electra. How pleasant is this task to a fifter's love!
Alas! what means my brother? you are chang'd. Orestes.
Your colour shifts--your eyes look fiercely wild Come, let me lean upon thee;--how canst thou | Your fit returns-mo heaven's! he's lost again. bcar me?
Oresles. Put forth thy hand; remove the clotted locks Mother, forbear I-What! no forgiveness That shade my fight; I scarcely yet can fee
0! take away thofe furies how they fhake O my poor brother! how has sickness chang's Their snaky locks, and grin around me ! thee!
Electra. Thy face, thy beard, so long unwash'd deform Alas! pnor wretch; 'tis thy own fear alarmıs thee. chee,
Coinpose thyself: why dost thou leave thy couch? And spread an unknown horror o'er thy mien. Here are no fiends; thou talk’It to thapeless air. Orefles.
Orestes. I'ım weary ;-lead me to my couch again. Help, help me, Phoebus--Sec those dogs of hell When my fit leaves me I am weak and faint, With familh'd jawa gare horrid to devour me ! And a cold trembling runs through all my limbs. Th'infernal priestesses look ficrcely on me; Electra.
They thirst for blood, and I'm the deitin'd victim! How friendly is the fick man's bed; though
Nay, strive not-for I will not let thee go, Pwell there, yet there he best may bear it. While these weak arms can fold thee Orestes.
Orefles. O! help once more; and gently bend me for
What art thru? (thee; ward.
One of my curft tormenters?-Hence--I know Chorus.
Thou grasp'ít me thus to plunge me down to hell. The fick are ever restlers;
Electra. Uneasiness and pain make them impatienę.
Oh! whence can wretched mortals hope for Eleira.
fuccour, Wilt thou get up, and try again to walk ? When heaven is deaf, and all the gods our foes ! Change will perhaps relieve thee.
Reach me the weapons of the shooting god, I fain would walkmand, secming well awhile, Apollo's gift, the shafts and horny buw; Delude my anxious thoughts.
With these he bade me drive the fiends away,
Whien cruel, they attack mem
Can they feel? This pause from grief, this interval of reason. Can deathless beings feel a mortal wound? Orelles.
Orestes. Speak quick thy news-rif it be good, 'tis wel- They shall-or leave ny tortur'd fight-behold! come;
Dost thou not see their fouther'd shafts fly round If ill-I've load enough; nor add thou more.
Begone, ye ministers of wrath-Away! away! Then know thy uncle Menelaus comes;
The guili's not mine-Hence, through the yieldHis ship is in the port-
ing skies, Orelles.
Fly swift to heaven and charge Apollo there What dost thou say? Whose oracle becray'd mem-Ah! I tant; He comes, like downing light, to cheer our griefs, My spirits fink-Where am I now ? Alas! And chase away the blackness of despair ;
How have I lest my bed ?-how ftray'd I hither! My father's brother, and his best-lov'd friend! Om perceive once more the raging waves Elcera,
Have spent their force and all is calm again He's now arriv'd-and brings from conquer'd My filter ? --Weeping too? Why dost thou turn Troy
Thy face away, thus multed in thy garment ! His beautcous Helen
Igricve to think what I have made thee suffer ; Orrftes.
I know niy sickness bears too hard upon thee; Say'st thou?-better far Yet
weep not for my crimes, unhappy maid ! Hc came alonemand he alone furviving;
The deed was mine-Thou only didst confent : But if with Helen--then he brings a curse,
'Twas I that flew my mother-Phæbus himself A heavy curica
Advis'd that impious act-the guilt be his, (me. Fluetra.
Whose words spoke comfort, but who now forsakcs The race of Tyndarus But oh! Electra, had our father's shade Have through all Greece (pread infamy and hame, Been present then-had l, before the god,
ASOPICUS OF ORCHOMENUS.
Ye heavenly graces, who preside
O'er Minyaa's happy foil, that breeds, And comfort my affliction And when thou
Swift for the race, the faireft steeds; Shalt sink beneath thy pressing woes, I'll trive
And rule the land, where with a ger:ile tide By soothing words to mitigate thy sorrows.
Your lov'd Cephisian waters glide! Such offices become our fond affection.
Orchomenus's towers belong,
Whatever honours shine bclow,
Whatever gifts can move delight,
To you their power of pleasing owe.
Nor will the gods the facred banquet own,
If you your presence have deny'd,
In heaven itself all own your happy care;
Bless’d by your influence divine,
There all is good, and all is fair : But if you so command, I will retire;
On thrones sublime you there illustrious shine; In the meanwhile compose chyself to rest,
Plac'd near Apollo with the golden lyre,
You all his harmony inspire,
Now hear, Aglaia, venerable maid!
Hear thou that tuneful verse dost love,
Euphrosyne! join your coelestial aid,
Ye daughters of immorral Jove!
Thalia too be present with my lays ;
Alopicus has rais'd his city's name,
And, victor in th' Olympic strife, may claim
From you his just reward of virtuous praise.
And thou, O Fame! this happy triumph spread; But where some beautcous palace does adorn
Fly to the regions of the dead, slouny, His banks, che river seems to move more flow;
Through Proferpine's dark empire so the
There seek Cleodamus below, As if he ftopp'd awhile, with conscious pride,
And let the pleas'd paternal spirit know, Nor to the ocean would pursue his race,
How on the plains of Pisa far renown'd, Till he reflect its glories in his side,
His snn, his youthful son, of matchleis speed, And call the water-nymphs around to gaze.
Bore off from all the victrr's meed,
And with an olive wreath his envy'd temples So in time's common flood the huddled throng
THE MORNING APPARITION.
JULY XXIII. M.DCC.XIX.
Hail happy month! secure of lasting fanie!
Doubly distinguish'd through the circling year : In Rome a hero gave thee firit thy name;
A patriot's birth makes thee to Britaia dear.
All things were hulh'd, as noise itself were dead;
No breed the casement shook, or fann'd the leaves, That work can only by the muse be wrought; Nor drops of rain sell soft from off the eaves; Souls mūst paint souls, and thought delineate Nor noisy splinter made the candle weep,
thought. But the dim watchlight seeni'd itself asleep,
Then painter-muse begin, and unconfin'd When tir'd I clos'd my eyes--How long 1 lay Draw boldly first a large extent of mind : In Number wrapp'd, I lift nog now to say:
Yet not a barren waste, an empty space. When hark ! a sudden noise--See ! open flies for crowds of virtues fill up all the place. The yielding door-1, starțing, rubb'd my eyes, See! o'er the rest fair pietý presides, Fast clos'd awhile; and as their lids I rear'd, As the bright sun th' inferior planets guides; Full at my feet a tall thin form appear’d,
To the soul's powers it vital heat supplies, While through my parted curtains rushing broke And hence a thousand worthy habits rise. A light like day, ere yer the figure fpoke.
So when that genial father of the spring Cold sweat bedew'd my limbs-Nor did I dream; Smiles on the meads, and wakes the birds to sing, Hear, mortals, hear! for real truth's my theme. And from the heavenly bull his influence sheds And now, niore bold, I rais'd ny trembling bones On the parterres and fruitful garden beds, To low-when lo ! 'twas honelt master Jones * ; A thousand beauteous births shoot up to fight, Who wav'd his hand, to banish fear and sorrow, A thousand buds unfolding meet the light; Well charg'd with toast and sack, and cry'd "Good Each useful plant does the rich earth adorn, u morrow."
And all the flowery universe is born.
WRITTEN IN A WINDOW
O! could my verse describe this sacred queen,
TIEN THE SEAT OF
MRS. ELIZ. BETH BRIDGES, 1719.
Envy, if thy searching eye
nce for ever take thy flight.
Proceed, my muse, next in the picture place
A foul thus form'd, and such a soul is here,