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Or curious trace the long laborious mazé,
Of heaven's decrees, where wondering angels gaze ?
Does he delight to hear bold seraphs tell
How Michael batri'd, and the dragon fell;
Or, mix'd with milder cherubim, to glow
In hymns of love, not ill essay'd below?
Or dost thou warn poor ,mortals left behind,
A task well-suited to thy gentle mind ?
Oh! if sometimes thy spotless form descend;
To me, thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend!
When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms,
When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms,
In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart;
Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before,
Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.

That awful form, which, so the heavens decree,
Must still be lov'd and still deplor'd by me;
In nightly visions seldom fails to rise,
Or, rous'd by fancy , meets my waking eyes.
If business calls, or crowded courts invite;
Th' unbleinish'd statesman seems to strike my sight;
If in the stage I seek to sooth my care;
I meet his soul which breathes in Cato there;
If pensive to the rural shades I rove;
His shape o’ertakes me in the lonely grove;
'Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong,
Clear'd some great truth, or rais`d some serious song;
There patient show'd us the wise course to steer,
A candid censor, and a friend severe;
There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures grace, Reard by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race, Why, once so lov’d, whene'er thy bower appears, O'er my dim eye- balls glance the sudden tears ! How sweet. were once thy prospects fresh and fair, Thy sloping walks, and unpolluted air! How sweet the glooms beneath the aged trees, Thy noon-tide shadow, and thy evening breeze! His image tby forsaken bowers restore; Tly walks and airy prospects charm no more;

No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd,
Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shado.

From other ills, however Fortune frown'd,
Some refuge in the Muse's art I found;
Reluctant now I touch the trembling string,
Bereft of him, who taught me how to sing;
And these sad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that absence, they attempt to mourn.
0! must I then (now fresh my bosom bleeds,
And Craggs *) in death to Addison succeeds)
The verse, begun to one lost friend, prolong,
And weep a second in th' unfinish'd song!

These works divine, which on his death - bed laid
To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring sage convey'd,
Great, but ill-omen'd, monument of fame,
Nor he surviv'd to give, nor thou to claim.
Swift after him thy social spirit flies,
And close to his, how soon! thy coffin lies.
Blest pair! whose union future bards shall tell
In future tongues : each other's boast! farewell,
Farewell! whom, join'd in fame, in friendship try'd,
No chance could sever, nor the grave divide.

Oi Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair,

Bright Lucy was the grace;
Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream

Reflect so sweet a face:
Till luckless love, and pining care,

Impair'd her rosy hue,
Her coral lips, and damask cheeks ,

eyes of glossy blue.
Oh! have you seen a lily pale,

When beating rains descend?
So droop'd the slow-consuming maid,

Her life now near its end.

*) So hiels der, in der Einleitung s. 273 erwähnte Freund und Amtsnachfolger Addison's.

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By Lucy warnd, of flattering swain,

Take heed, ye easy fair;
Of vengeance due, 10 broken vows,

Ye perjur'd swains, beware.
Three times, all in the dead of night,

A bell was heard to ring;
And skrieking at ber window thrice,

The raven flap'd his wing,
Too well the love-lorn maiden knew

The solemn boding sound:
And thus, in dying words, bespoko

The virgins weeping round:
„I hear a voice, you cannot hear,

„Which says, I must not stay; „I see a hand, you cannot see,

Which beckons me away. „By a false heart, and broken vows,

,, In early youth I die: „Was I to blame, because his bride

Was thrice as rich as I ? „Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows,

Vows due to me alone: ,Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,.

„Nor think him all thy own. „To-morrow, in the church to wed,

„, Impatient, both prepare ! But know, fond maid; and know, false man,

„That Lucy will be there! Then bear my corse, my comrades, bear,

This bridegroom blithe to meet, ,,He in his wedding-trim so gay.

„I in my winding-sheet." She spoke, she dy'd, her corse was borne,

The bridegroom blithie to meet , He in his wedding-trim so gay,

She in her winding sheet.

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Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts?

How were these nuptials kept?

The bridesmen flock'd round Lucy dead',

And all ibe village wept.
Confusion, shame, remorse, despair,

At once his bosom swell:
The damps of death bedew'd his brow,

He gok, he groan'd, he fell.
From the vain bride, ah, bride no more!

The varying crimson sled,
When ,'stretch'd before her rival's corse,

She saw her husband dead.
Then to his Lucy's new - made grave,

Convey'd by trembling swains,
One mould with her, beneath one sod,

For ever he remain's.
Oft at this grave, the constarit hind

And plighted maid are seen ; ;
With garlands gay, and true-love knots,

They deck the sacred green;
But, swain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,",
This hallowd spot

Remember Colin's dreadful fate,

And fear to meet him there.

H' A M M O N D.'


AMES HAMMOND wurde um das Juhr 1710 geboren. VOR seinen Lebensumständen lässt sich nur Folgendes mit Zuverlässigkei' angeben: Er wurde in der Westminsterschule erzogen, stand mit mehrereh angesehenen Männern seiner Zeit, als Lytileton, Chesterfield und andern in Verbindung, und erhielt durch Vermittelung derselben den Posten eines Stallmeisters beim Prinzen von Wales, 1740 schrieb er den Prologus zu der Tragödie Elmeric; 1741 wurde er Mitglied des Parliaments für Truro in Cornwallis, und starb den glen Junius 1742, im 32sten Jahre seines Alters, zu Stowe, dem Landsitz des Lord Cobham. Kurze Zeit nach seinem Tode erschiener seine sechszehn Love - Elegies, die er schon vor seinen 22slen Jahre verfertigt hatte. Lord Chesterfield besorgte die Herausgabe derselben. Die Geliebte, deren in denselben unter dem Namen Delia so oft Erwähnung geschieht, war eine Miss Dashwood, welche den Dichter lange überlebte, und als Kammorfrau der Königin in Jahre 1779 starb. Johnson beurtheilt auch diesen Dichter zu strenge, indem er von seinen Elegien sagt: they have neither passion, nature,

nor manners, und von den Versen selbst urtheilt, they are not rugged, but they have no'sweetness; they never glide in a stream of melody. Ein unbefangener Leser wird gewiss nicht dem Verfasser Zartheit der Empfindungen absprechen, noch Wohllaut in seinen Versen vermissen. Dahin hat sich auch immer die allgemeine Stimme des Publikums erklärt, und Hammond's 'Elegien haben in England stets viele Bewunderer gehabt, und werden auch noch itzt häufig gelesen. Übrigens bemerken wir noch, dass unser Dichter vorzüglich den Tibullus nachahmt. Man findet seine Werke in Sten Theile der Andersonschen, im 97sten der Bellschen Ausgabe, und bei Johnson; auch sind sie ifters besonders gedruckt worden.

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He imagines himself married to Delia, and that, content with

each other, they are retired into the country.
Let others boast their heaps of shining gold,
And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd,
Whom neighbouring foes in constant terror hold,

break their slumbers, never' sound:
While calmly poor I trifle life away,
Enjoy sweet leisure by my cheerful fire,
No wanton hope my quiet shall betray,
But, cheaply blest, I'll scorn each vain desire.
With timely care I'll sow my little field,
And plant my orchard with its master's hand,
Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield,
Or range my sheaves along the sunny land.
If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam
I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb,
Under my arm I'll bring the wanderer home,
And not a little chide its thoughtless dam.

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