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I'll guide thee to the clearest rill,

Whose streams among the pebbles stray;

There will we sip, and sip our fill,
Or on the flow'ry margin play.

I'll lead thee to the thickest brake,
Impervious to the school-boy's eye;
For thee the plaster'd nest I'll make,

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And to thy downy bosom fly.

When, prompted by a mother's care,

Thy warmth shall form th' imprison'd young, The pleasing task, I'll gladly share,

Or cheer thy labours with a song.

To bring thee food I'll range the fields,
And cull the best of ev'ry kind,
Whatever nature's bounty yields,

And love's assiduous care can find.

And when my lovely mate would stray,
To taste the summer sweets at large,
I'll wait at home the live-long day,
And fondly tend our little charge.

Then prove

with me the sweets of love,
With me divide the cares of life,
No bush shall boast in all the grove,
A mate so fond, so blest a wife.

He ceas'd his song. The plumy dame
Heard with delight the love - sick strain,
Nor long conceal'd a mutual flame,
Nor long repress'd his am'rous pain,

He led her to the nuptial bow'r,

And 'perch'd with triumph by her side;
What gilded roof could boast that hour
A fonder mate, or happier bride?
Next morn he wak'd her with a song;
Behold, he said, the new-born day,
The lark his mattin-peal has rung,
Arise, my love, and come away.

Together through the fields they stray'd,
And to the murm'ring riv'let's side;

T.

Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and play'd
With artless joy and decent pride.

When O! with grief my muse relates
What dire misfortune clos'd the tale,
Sent by an order from the fates,

A gunner met them in the vale.
Alarm'd, the lover cried, my dear,
Haste, haste away, from danger fly;
Here, gunner, point thy thunder here,
O spare my love, and let me die.
At him the gunner took his aim,

Too sure the volley'd thunder flew!
O had he chose some other game!

Or shot as he was wont to do!

Divided pair! forgive the wrong,
While I with tears your, fate rehearse,
I'll join the widow's plaintive song,
And save the lover in my verse.

2) HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY, IMITATED.

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o print, or not to print that is the question. Whether 'tis better in a trunk to bury

The quirks and crotchets of outrageous fancy,
Or send a well-wrote copy to the press,

And by disclosing, end them? To print, to doubt
No more; and by one act to say, we end

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The headach, and a thousand natural shocks
Of scribbling frenzy 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To print

to beam

From the same shelf with Pope, in calf well bound!

To sleep, perchance, with Quarles *) Ay, there's the rub For to what class a writer may be doom'd,

When he hath shuffled off some paltry stuff,

Must give us pause. There's the respect that makes
Th' unwilling poet keep his piece nine years.

*) Quarles, ein schlechter Schriftsteller, der zu Pope's Zeit gelebt haben soll.

For who would bear th' impatient thirst of fame,
The pride of conscious merit, and 'bove all,
The tedious importunity of friends,

When as himself might his quietus make

With a bare inkhorn? Who would fardies bear?
To groan and sweet under a load of wit?
But that the tread of steep Parnassus' hill,
That undiscover'd country, with whose bays
Few travellers return, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear to live unknown,
Than run the hazard to be known, and damn'd.
Thus critics do make cowards of us all.
And thus the healthful face of many a poem,
Is sickly'd o'er with a pale manuscript;
And enterprisers of great fire, and spirit,
With this regard from Dodsley *) turn away,
And lose the name of authors.

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Written for the Jubilee at Stratford upon Avon, celebrated by Mr. Garrick in honour of Shakspeare, September 1769 **).

(Set to Music by Mr. Dibdin.)

Sisters of the tuneful train,

Attend your parent's jocund strain,

'Tis fancy calls you; follow me

To celebrate the jubilee.

On Avon's banks, where Shakspeare's bust
Points out, and guards his sleeping dust;
The sons of scenic mirth agree,

To celebrate the jubilee.

Come daughters, come, and bring with you

Th aerial sprites and fairy crew,

And the sister graces three,

To celebrate the jubilee.

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*) Siehe oben Seite 572. **). Man sehe die Anmerkung zu

Seite 55 in diesem zweiten Theile des Handbuchs.

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And the mask of comic glee,

To celebrate the jubilee.

From Birnam *) wood, and Bosworth **) field,
Bring the standard, bring the shield,

With drums, and martial symphony,

To celebrate the jubilee.

In mournful numbers now relate
Poor Desdemona's ***) hapless fate,
With frantic deeds of jealousy,
To celebrate the jubilee.

Nor be Windsor's wives †) forgot,
With their harmless merry plot,
The whitening mead, and haunted tree,
To celebrate the jubilee.

Now in jocund strains recite

The humours of the braggard knight ††),
Fat knight, and ancient Pistol tt) he,
To celebrate the jubilee.

But see in crowds the gay, the fair,

To the splendid scene repair,
A scene as fine, as fine can be,
To celebrate the jubilee.

JOHNSON.

Siche Theil I. S. 330. Von den dichterischen Werken desselben haben wir eine Ausgabe vor uns, welche den Titel führt: the poetical Works of Samuel Johnson, complete in one Volume, London 1785. Sie enthält folgende Gedichte:

Anspie

*) Anspielung auf das Trauerspiel Macbeth. • lung auf Shakspeare's Richard III. Bosworth ist ein Markt flecken in Leicestershire, in dessen Nachbarschaft im Jahre 1485 ein entscheidendes Treffen zwischen Richard 111 und Hein rich VII vorfiel, in welchem ersterer blieb. ***) Siche Shak speare's Othello. †) The merry Wives of Windsor. ††) Fal staff. tt) Einer von Falstaffs Gefährten.

London, a poem in imitation of the third Satire of Juvenal; the Vanity of human wishes, an imitation of the tenth Satire of Juvenal; verschiedene Oden, Gesänge und Gelegenheitsgedichte; mehrere, zum Theil von seinem Freunde Garrick gesprochene Prologen; einige Lateinische Gedichte, und die im Jahre 1749 zum ersten Male auf dem Drury - Lane - Theater zu London aufgeführte Tragödie Irene. Eben diese Werke findet man auch im 11ten Theile der Andersonschen Dichtersammlung, nebst einer interessanten Biographie ihres Verfassers. Unter diesen dichterischen Produkten Johnson's zeichnen sich die beiden Satyren durch Inhalt und Versifikation vorzüglich aus; wir theilen davon die erstere mit, welche bereits im Jahre 1738 in 4. einzeln erschien, und nachmals öfters abgedruckt worden ist. Auch die kleine Ode, Evening betitelt, mag hier ihre Stelle finden. Nur die Beschränktheit des Raums hielt uns ab, den vier vortrefflichen Oden auf die Jahreszeiten gleichfalls einen Platz in dieser Sammlung einzuräumen.

1) E v EN IN

Evening

(An Ode to Stella.)

now from purple wings

Sheds the grateful gifts she brings,
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,
Cooling breezes shake the reed,
Shake the reed, and curl the stream,
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;
Near the checquer'd lonely grove,
Hears and keeps thy secrets, love!
Stella, thither let us stray!
Lightly o'er the dewy way.
Phoebus drives his burning car,
Hence, my lovely Stella, far:
In his stead the queen of night
Round us pours a lambent light,
Light, that seems *) but just to show

Breasts that beat, and cheeks, that glow;

*) Eine andere Ausgabe liest serves statt seems.

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