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For not the vengeful power, that glow'd with rage,
With fuch amazing virtue durft engage.
The clouds difpers'd, Apollo's wrath expir'd,
And from the wondering god th' unwilling youth
retir'd.

Thence we thefe altars in his temple raise,
And offer annual honours, feafts, and praise;
Thofe folemn feafts propitious Phoebus please:
Thefe honours, ftill renew'd, his ancient wrath ap-
peale.

But fay, illuftrious guest! (adjoin'd the king) What name you bear, from what high race you fpring?

The noble Tydeus ftands confefs'd and known
Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon.
Relate your fortnnes, while the friendly night
And filent hours to various talk invite.

The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes;
Confus'd and fadly thus at length replies :
Before these altars how fhall I proclaim
(Oh generous prince!) my nation or my name,
Or through what veins our ancient blood has roll'd?
Let the fad tale for ever reft untold!
Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown,
You feck to share in forrows not your own;
Know then, from Cadmus I derive my race,
Jocalta's fon, and Thebes my native place.
To whom the king (who felt his generous breast
Touch'd with concern for his unhappy gueft)
Replies:-Ah why forbears the fon to name
His wretched father, known too well by fame?
Fame, that delights around the world to ftray,
Scorns not to take our Argos in her way.
Ev'n those who dwell where funs at diftance roll,
In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole ;
And those who tread the burning Libyan lands,
The faithlefs Syrtes, and the moving fands;
Who view the western fea's extremest bounds,
Or drink of Ganges in their eaftern grounds;
All these the woes of Œdipus have known,
Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town.
If on the fons the parents' crimes descend,
What prince from thofe his lineage can defend?
Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t' efface
With virtuous acts thy ancestor's difgrace,
And be thyfelf the honour of thy race.
But fee! the stars begin to fteal away,
And shine more faintly at approaching day.
Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays
Once more refound the great Apollo's praife.
Oh father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coaft
And snowy mountains thy bright prefence boaft;
Whether to fweet Caftalia thou repair,
And bathe in filver dews thy yellow hair;
Or, pleas'd to find fair Delos float no more,
Delight in Cynthus, and the shady shore;
Or choose thy feat in Ilion's proud abodes,
The fhining ftructures rais'd by labouring gods;
By thee the bow and mortal fhafts arc borne;
Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn :
Skill'd in the laws of fecret fate above,
And the dark counfels of almighty Jove,
'Tis thine the feeds of future war to know,
The change of fceptres, and impending wo;

When direful meteors fpread through glowing air
Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair,
Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durft afpire
T'excel the mufic of thy heavenly lyre;
Thy hafts aveng'd lewd Tityus' guilty flame,
Th' immortal victim of thy mother's fame;
Thy hand flew Python, and the dame who loft
Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast.
In Phlegya's doom thy just revenge appears,
Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears;
He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye,
The mouldering rock that trembles from on high.

Propitious hear our prayer, O power divine!
And on thy hofpitable Argos fhine,
Whether the style of Titan please thee more,
Whose purple rays th' Achæmenes adore;
Or great Ofiris, who firft taught the fwain
In Pharian fields, to fow the golden grain;
Or Mitra, to whofe beams the Perfian bows,
And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows;
Mitra, whofe head the blaze of light adorns,
Who graips the struggling heifer's lunar horns.

THE FABLE OF DRYOPE.

From Ovid's Metamorphofes, Book IX.

SHE faid, and for her loft Calanthis fighs,
When the fair confort of her fon replies:
Since you a fervant's ravilh'd form bemoan,
And kindly figh for forrows not your own;
Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate
A nearer woe, a fifter's ftranger fate.
No nymph of all Oechalia could compare
For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
Her tender mother's only hope and pride
(Myfelf the offspring of a fecond bride.)
This nymph comprefs'd by him who rules the day,
Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
Andræmon lov'd; and blefs'd in all those charms
That pleas'd a god, fucceeded to her arms.

A lake there was, with fhelving banks around,
Whofe verdant fummit fragrant myrtles crown'd.
Thefe fhades, unknowing of the fates, fhe fought,
And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought;
Her fmiling babe (a pleafing charge) the preft
Within her arms, and nourifh'd at her breaft.
Not diftant far, a watery Lotos grows;
The fpring was new, and all the verdant boughs
Adorn'd with bloffoms, promis'd fruits that vie
In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye :
Of these the cropp'd to please her infant fon;
And I myself the fame rash act had done,
But lo faw (as near her fide I ftood)
The violated bloffoms drop with blood.
Upon the tree I caft a frightful look;
The trembling tree with fudden horror fhook.
Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true),
As from Priapus' lawless luft fhe flew,
Forfook her form; and fixing here became
A flowery plant, which still preferves her name.

This charge unknown, astonish'd at the fight,
My trembling fifter ftrove to urge her flight,
And first the pardon of the nymphs implor'd,
And thofe offended fylvan powers ador'd :

But when the backward would have fled, fhe found
Her ftiffening feet were rooted in the ground:
In vain to free her faften'd feet the ftrove,
And, as she struggles, only moves above;
She feels th' encroaching bark around her grow
By quick degrees, and cover all below:
Surpris'd at this, her trembling hand the heaves
To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves:
Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are feen
To rife, and fhade her with a fudden green.
The child Amphiffus, to her bofom prefs'd,
Perceiv'd a colder and a harder breaft,

And found the springs, that ne'er till then deny'd
Their milky moisture, on a fudden dry'd.
I faw, unhappy! what I now relate.
And stood the helplefs witnefs of thy fate,
Embrac'd thy boughs, thy rifing bark delay'd,
There wish'd to grow, and mingle fhade with
fhade.

Behold Andræmon and th' unhappy fire
Appear, and for their Dryope inquire;
A fpringing tree for Dryope they find,
And print warm kiffes on the panting rind;
Proftrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,
And close embrace as to the roots they grew.
The face was all that now remain'd of thee,
No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
From every leaf diftils a trickling tear,
And strait a voice, while yet a voice remains,
Thus through the trembling boughs in fighs com-
plains:

If to the wretched any faith be given, I swear by all th' unpitying powers of heaven, No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred; In mutual innocence our lives we led: If this be falfe, let these new greens decay, Let founding axes lop my limbs away, And crackling flames on all my honours prey! But from my branching arms this infant bear, Let fome kind nurfe fupply a mother's care: And to his mother let him oft be led, Sport in her fhades, and in her shades be fed; Teach him, when firft his infant voice fhall frame Imperfect words, and lifp his mother's name, To hail this tree; and fay, with weeping eyes, Within this plant my hapless parent lies: And when in youth he feeks the fhady woods, Oh, let him fly the cryftal lakes and floods, Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn'd by me, Believe a goddess shrin'd in every tree. My fire, my fifter, and my spouse, farewell! If in your breafts or love or pity dwell, Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel The browsing cattle, or the piercing steel. Farewell! and fince I cannot bend to join My lips to yours, advance at leaft to mine. My fon, thy mother's parting kifs receive, While yet thy mother has a kifs to give. I can no more; the creeping rind invades

Remove your hands; the bark fhall foon fuffice
Without their aid to feal these dying eyes.

She ceas'd at once to fpeak, and ceas'd to be;
And all the nymph was loft within the tree;
Yet latent life through her new branches reign'd,
And long the plant a human heat retain'd.

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA.

From Ovid's Met morphofes, Book IV.

THE fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
Of all the virgins of the fylvan train,
None taught the trees a noble race to bear,
Or more improv'd the vegetable care.
To her the fhady grove, the flowery field,
The ftreams and fountains, no delights could yield;
'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
And fee the boughs with happy burthens bend.
The hook the bore inftead of Cynthia's spear,
To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,
To decent form the lawless fhoots to bring,
And teach th' obedient branches where to spring.
Now the cleft rind inserted graffs receives,
And yields an offspring more than nature gives;
Now fliding freams the thirty plants renew,
And feed their fibres with reviving dew.

Thefe cares alone her virgin breast employ,
Averfe from Venus and the nuptial joy.
Her private orchards, wall'd on every fide,
To lawless fylvans all accefs deny'd.
How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns,
Who haunt the forefts, or frequent the lawns,
The god whofe enfign fcares the birds of prey,
And old Sienus, youthful in decay,
Employ'd their wiles and unavailing care,
To pass the fences, and furprise the fair!
Like thefe, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame,
Like thefe, rejected by the fcornful dame.
To gain her fight a thoufard forms he wears:
And first a reaper from the field appears,
Sweating he walks, while I ads of golden grain
O'ercharge the inculders of the feeming swain.
Oft o'er his back a crooked fcythe is laid,
And wreaths of hay his fun-burnt temples fhade:
Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears,
Like one who late unyoak'd the sweating steers,
Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
And the loose itragglers to their ranks confines.
Now gathering what the bounteous years allows,
He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs.
A foldier now, he with his fword appears;
A fither next, his trembling angle bears.
Each fhape he varies, and each art he tries,
On her bright charms to feaft his longing eyes.
A female form at last Vertuninus wears,
With all the marks of reverend age appears,
His temples thinly spread with filver hairs;
Propp'd on his ftaff, and ftooping as he goes;
A painted mitre fhades his furrow'd brows.
The god in this decrepit form array'd
The gardens enter'd, and the fruit furvey'd,

"Whofe charms as far all other nymphs out, fhine,

"As other gardens are excell'd by thine!"
Then kifs'd the fair: (his kiffes warmer grow
Than fuch as women on their sex below ;)
Then plac'd befide her on the flowery ground,
Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'
n'd.
An elm was near, to whole embraces led,
The curling vine her fwelling clusters spread;
He view'd her twining branches with delight,
And prais'd the beauty of the pleafing fight.

Yet his tall elm, but for his vine (he faid)
Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
And this fair vine, but that her arms furround
Her marry'd elm, had crept along the ground.
Ah, beauteous maid! let this example move
Your mind, averfe from all the joys of love.
Deign to be lov'd, and every heart fubdue!
What nymph could e'er attract fuch crowds as
you?

Not the whole beauty urg'd the Centaur's armis,
Ulyffes' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.
Ev'n now, when filent scorn is all they gain,
A thousand court you, though they court in
vain,

A thousand fylvan demigods and gods,

That haunt our mountains, and our Alban woods.
But if you'll profper, mark what I advise,
Whom age and long experience render wife,
And one whofe tender care is far above
All that these lovers ever felt of love.
(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guefs'd)
Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest.

For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
Scarce to himfelf, himfelf is better known.
To diftant lands Vertumnus never roves;
Like you, contented with his native groves;
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Nor at first sight, like moft, admires the fair; For you he lives; and you alone shall share His laft affe&tion, as his early care. Befides, he's lovely far above the rest, With youth immortal, and with beauty blest. Add, that he varies every fhape with ease, And tries all forms that may Pomona please. But what fhould most excite a mutual flame, Your rural cares and pleasures are the fame. To him your orchard's early fruit are due, (A pleafant offering when 'tis made by you) He values thefe; but yet (alas!) complains, That ftill the beft and deareft gift remains. Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows With that ripe red th' autumnal fun bestows; Nor tafteful herbs that in thefe gardens rife, Which the kind foil with milky fap fupplies; You, only you, can move the god's defire : Oh, crown fo conftant and so pure a fire! Let foft compaffion touch your gentle mind; Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind: So may no froft, when early buds appear, Deftroy the promise of the youthful year; Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows, Shake the light bloffoms from their blafted boughs! This when the various god had urg'd in vain, He ftrait affum'd his native form again, Such, and fo bright an afpect now he bears, As when through clouds th' emerging fun appears, And thence exerting his refulgent ray, Difpels the darkness and reveals the day. Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design; For when, appearing in a form divinc. The nymph furveys him, and beholds the grace Of charming features, and a youthful face! In her foft breaft confenting paffions move, And the warm maid confefs'd a mutual love.

Fij

IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS.

DONE BY THE AUTHOR IN HIS YOUTH.

1.-CHAUCER.

WOMEN ben full of ragerie,

Yet fwinken nat fans fecrefic.
Thilke moral fhall ye understond,

From Schoole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the Fennes hath him betake,
To filch the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then, there paffen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowfes hath he hent,
Not to be fpied of ladies gent.
"But ho! our nephew, (crieth one)
"Ho! quoth another, Cozen John;"
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,-
This filly clerk full low doth lout:
They afken that, and talken this,
"Lo here is Coz, and here is Miss."
But, as he glozeth with speeches foote,
The ducke fore tickleth his erfe roote:
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-breft,
Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest.
Te-he, cry'd ladies; Clerke nought spake:
Mifs ftar'd; and gray Ducke cryeth quake.
"O moder, moder, (quoth the daughter
"Be thilke fame thing maids longen a'ter?
"Bette is to pine on coals and chalke,
"Then trust on mon, whofe yerde can talke."

II-SPENSER.

THE ALLEY.

I.

In every town where Thamis rolls his tyde,
A narrow pafs there is, with houfes low;
Where ever and anon, the stream is ey'd,
And many a boat, foft fliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
The fhort thick fob, loud scream, and shriller fquall:
How can ye, mothers, vex your children so ?
Some play, fome eat, fome cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.

II.

And on the broken pavement, here and there, Doth many a ftinking sprat and herring lie; A brandy and tobacco shop is near,

And here a failor's jacket hangs to dry.
At every door are sun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry,
Now finging thrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds anfwer foul-mouth'd fcolds; bad neighbour-
hood I ween.

111.

The fnappish cur (the paffengers annoy)
Clofe at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarfer-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, thrilling cries;
The fcolding quean to louder notes doth rife,
And her, full pipes thofe fhrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and fcolds, in the deep bafe
are drown'd.

IV.

Hard by a fty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingfgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learn'd the fpeech from tongues that never

ceafe.

Slander befide her, like a magpie, chatters,
With Envy, (fpitting cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd cur, Malice, before her clatters,
And, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to

tatters.

V.

Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bull dog's at the stall:
She fcratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her anfwer was to all;
Nay, e'en the parts of fhame by name would call:
Yea, when the passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the
wall,

And by his hand obfcene the porter took,
Nor ever did afkance like modest virgin look.

VI.

·Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling ftrong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown;
And Twickenham fuch, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, ftatues, urns, and Jo-n's dog and bitch.
Ne village is without, on either fide,

Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd | Vales, fpires, meandering ftreams, and Windfor's towery pride.

II-WALLER.

OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE.

FAIR charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize
A heart refign'd the conqueft of your eyes:
Well might, alas! that threaten'd veffel fail,
Which winds and lightning both at once affail.
We were too bleft with these enchanting lays,
Which must be heavenly when an angel plays :
But killing charms your lover's death contrive,
Left heavenly music should be heard alive.
Orpheus could charm the trees; but thus a tree,
Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he :
A poet made the filent wood pursue,
This vocal wood had drawn the poet too.

On a FAN of the Author's defign, in which was painted the fery of CEPHALUS and PROCRIS, with the motto, AURA VENI.

COME, gentle air! th' Æolian fhepherd said,
While Procris panted in the facred shade;
Come, gentle air, the fairer Delia cries,
While at her feet her swain expiring lies.
Lo, the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,
Breathe on her lips, and in her bofom play!
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found,

Nor could that fabled dart more furely wound;
Both gifts destructive to the givers prove;
Alike both lovers fall by thofe they love.
Yet guiltless too this bright deftroyer lives, [gives;
At random wounds, nor knows the wound the
She views the story with attentive eyes,
And pities Procris, while her lover dies.

IV. COWLEY.

THE GARDEN.

FAIN would my mufe the flowery treasure sing,
And humble glories of the youthful spring:
Where opening rofes breathing fweets diffuse,
And foft carnations fhower their balmy dews;
Where lilies fmile in virgin robes of white,
The thin undrefs of fuperficial light,
And vary'd tulips fhow fo dazzling gay,
Blufhing in bright diverfities of day.
Each painted flowret in the lake below
Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narciffus on the bank, in vain
Transform'd, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees cathedral walks compofe,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;
There the green infants in their beds are laid,
The garden's hope, and its expected shade.
Here orange trees with blooms and pendants shine,
And vernal honours to their autumn join;

Exceed their promise in their ripen'd store,
Yet in the rifing bloffom promise more.
There in bright drops the crystal fountains play,
By laurels fhielded from the piercing day:
Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Nor feeks in vain for fuccour to the stream;
The ftream at once preferves her virgin leaves,
At once a fhelter from her boughs receives,

Where fummer's beauty midft of winter stays,
And winter's coolness spite of summer's rays.

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