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III. 3.

Lo, on yon pyramid fublime,
Whence lies Old Egypt's defert clime,
Bleak, naked, wild! where ruin low'rs,

Mid fanes, and wrecks, and tumbling tow'rs,
On the steep height, waste and bare,
Stands the Pow'r with hoary hair!
O'er his (cythe he bends; his hand
Slowly fhakes the flowing fand,
While the hours, and airy ring
Lightly fit, with downy wing,
And fap the works of man; and fhade
With filver'd locks his furrow'd head;
Thence rolis the mighty pow'r his broad furvey,

And feals the nations' awful doom:
He fees proud grandeur's meteor ray;
He yields to joy the feftive day;

Rapt Contemplation flalks along,
And hears the flow clock's pealing tongue;
Or, mid the dun difcolour'd gloom,
Sits on fome hero's peaceful tomb,
Throws life's gay glitt'ring robe afide,
And tramples on the neck of Pride.

Oft, fhelter'd by the rambling sprays,
Lead o'er the foreft's winding maze;
Where, thro' the mantling boughs, afar
Glimmers the filver-streaming star;
And, fhower'd from ev'ry rustling blade,
The loofe light floats along the shade:
So hov'ring o'er the human fcene
Gay Pleafure fports with brow ferene:
By Fancy beam'd, the glancing ray
Shoots, flutters, gleams, and fleets away:
Unfettled, dubious, restless, blind,
Floats all the bufy bustling mind;

Then fweeps the length'ning fhade, and marks While Mem'ry's unftain'd leaves retain

them for the tomb.

$122. Ode to Evening. OGILVIE. MEEK Pow'r, whofe balmy-pinion'd gale

Steels o'er the flow'r-enamell'd dale!
Who's voice in gentle whispers near
Oft fighs to Quiet's lift'ning ear;
As, on her downy couch at reft,
By Thought's infpiring vifions bleft
She fits, with white-rob'd Silence nigh,
And mufing heaves her ferious eye,
To mark the flow fun's glimm'ring ray,
To catch the laft pale gleam of day;
Or, funk in sweet repose, unknown
Lies on the wild hill's van alone:
And fees thy gradual pencil flow
Along the heaven-illumin'd bow.

Come, Nymph demure, with mantle blue,
Thy traces bath'd in balmy dew,
With ftep smooth sliding o'er the green,
The graces breathing in thy mien;
And thy vefture's gather'd fold
Girt with a zone of circling gold;
And bring the harp, whofe folemn ftring
Dies to the wild wind's murm`ring wing;
And the Nymph, whofe eye ferene
Marks the calm-breathing woodland fcene:
Thought, mountain fage! who loves to climb,
And haunts the dark rock's fummit dim;
Let Fancy, falcon-wing'd, be near:
And through the cloud-envelop'd sphere,
Where muling roams Retirement hoar,
Lull'd by the torrent's diftant roar,
Oh bid with trembling light to glow
The raven-plume that crowns his brow.
Lo, where thy meek-ey'd train attend!
Queen of the folemn thought, defcend!
Oh hide me in romantic bow'rs!
Or lead my step to ruin'd tow'rs!
Where gleaming through the chinky door
The pale ray gilds the moulder'd floor:
While beneath the hallow'd pile,
Deep in the defert fhrieking aisle,

No trace from all th' ideal train.

But fee, the landscape op'ning fair
Invites to breathe the purer air!
Oh when the cowflip-fcented gale
Shakes the light dew-drop o'er the dale,
When on her amber-dropping bed
Loofe Eafe reclines her downy head;
How bleft! by fairy-haunted ftream
To melt in mild ecstatic dream!
Die to the pictur'd with, or hear
(Breath'd foft on Fancy's trembling ear)
Such lays by angel-harps refin'd,
As half unchain the flutt'ring mind,
When on life's edge it eyes the fhore,
And all its pinions ftretch to foar.

Lo, where the fun's broad orb withdrawn.
Skirts with pale gold the dusky lawn;
While, led by ev'ry gentler pow'r,
Steals the flow, folemn, mufing hour.
Now from the green hill's purple brow
Let me mark the icene below;
Where, feebly glancing thro' the gloom,
Yon myrtle thades the filent tomb:
Not far, beneath the evening beam
The dark lake rolls his azure ftream,

Whofe breast the fwan's white plumes divide
Slow-failing o'er the floating tide.
Groves, meads, and spires, and forests bare,
Shoot glimm'ring thro' the mifty air;
Dim as the vifion-pictur'd bow'r
That gilds the faint's expiring hour,
When, rapt to ecftafy, his eye
Looks through the blue ethereal sky:
All heaven unfolding to his fight!
Gay forms that fwim in floods of light!
The fun-pav'd floor, the balmy clime,
The ruby-beaming dome fublime;
The tow'rs in glittring pomp difplay'd—
The bright fcene hovers o'er his bed:
He start-but from his eager gaze
Black clouds obfcure the leffening rays;
On mem'ry still the fcene is wrought,
And lives in Fancy's featur'd thought.
On the airy mount reclin'd
What wishes footh the mufing mind!

How

How foft the velvet lap of Spring!
How tweet the Zephyr's violet wing!
Goddefs of the plaintive fong,
That leads the melting heart along!
Oh bid thy voice of genial pow'r
Reach Contemplation's lonely bow'r;
And call the fage with tranced fight
To climb the mountain's steepy height;
To wing the kindling with, or spread
O'er Thought's pale cheek enliv'ning red;
Come, hoary Pow'r, with ferious eye,
Whofe thought explores yon diftant fky;
Now, when the bufy world is still,
Nor paffion tempts the wav'ring will,
When fweeter hopes each pow'r controul,
And quiet whifpers to the foul,
Now fweep from life th' illufive train
That dance in Folly's dizzy brain:
Be Reaton's fimple draught portray'd,
Where blends alternate light and shade;
Bid dimpled Mirth, with thought belied,
Sport on the bubble's glitt'ring fide;
Bid Hope pursue the diftant boon,
And Phrenly watch the fading moon;
Paint Superftition's starting eye,
And Wit that leers with gefture fly;
Let Cenfure whet her venom'd dart,
And green-eyed Envy gnaw the heart;
Let Pleasure lie on flow'rs reclin'd,
While Anguish aims her shaft behind.

Hail, Sire fublime! whofe hallow'd cave
Howls to the boarfe deep's dathing wave;
Thee Solitude to Phœbus bore,
Far on the lone, deserted shore,
Where Orellano's rufhing tide
Roars on the rock's projected fide.
Hence bursting o'er thy ripen'd mind,
Beams all the father's thought refin'd:
Hence oft, in filent vales unfeen,
Thy footsteps print the fairy green;
Or thy foul melts to ftrains of woe,
That from the willow's quiv'ring bough
Sweet warbling breathe-the zephyrs round
O'er Dee's smooth current waft the found,
When foft on bending ofiers laid
The broad fun trembling through the bed;
All wild thy heav'n-rapt fancy itrays,
Led thro' the foul-diffolving maze;
Till flumber downy-pinion'd, near
Plants her ftrong fetlocks on thy ear;
The foul unfetter'd bursts away,
And basks enlarg`d in beamy day.

§ 123. Ode to Innocence. OGILVIE.

"Twas when the flow-declining ray

"Hail, Innocence! celeftial Maid!
"What joys thy blushing charms reveal!
"Sweet as the arbour's cooling thade,
"And milder than the vernal gale.

"On Thee attends a radiant choir,

66

Soft-fmiling Peace, and downy Reft; "With Love, that prompts the warbling lyre; "And Hope, that fooths the throbbing breast. "Oh fent from heaven to haunt the grove, "Where fquinting Envy ne'er can come ! "Nor pines the cheek with luckle's love, "Nor Anguish chills the living bloom. "But fpotless Beauty, rob'd in white, "Sits on yon mofs-grown hill reclin'd: "Serene as heaven's unfullied light, "And pure as Delia's gentle mind. "Grant, heavenly Pow'r! thy peaceful sway May ftill my ruder thoughts controul; "Thy hand to point my dubious way,

66

66

Thy voice to footh the melting foul.

"Far in the fhady, sweet retreat
"Let Thought beguile the ling'ring hour;
"Let Quiet court the mofly feat,
"And twining olives form the bow'r :
"Let dove-eyed Peace her wreath bestow,
"And oft fit lift'ning in the dale,
"While Night's fweet warbler from the bough
"Tells to the grove her plaintive tale.
"Soft, as in Delia's fnowy breast,
"Let each confenting paflion move;
"Let Angels watch its filent reft,
"And all its blissful dreams be Love!"

§ 124. Morning; or, The Complaint. An Ame-
rican Eclogue.
GREGORY.

FAR from the favage bandit's fierce alarms,
Or diftant din of horrid defpot's arins,
Tho' Pennsylvania boasts her peaceful plain,
Yet there in blood her petty tyrants reign.

With wavingpines tho'vocalwoodsbe crown'd
And ftream-fed vales with living wealth abound,
To golden fields tho' ripening rays defcend,
With blushing fruit tho' loaded branches bend
To thofe who ne'er must freedom's bleifings tafte,
'Tis barren all, 'tis all a worthless wafte.

While hoarfe the cataract murmur'donthegale
And chilling dews (wept thro' the murky dale;
Along the hills the difmal tempeft howl'd,
And lightnings flath'd, and deep the thunder
Beneath a leanefs tree, ere morn arofe, [roll'd;
The flave Adala thus laments his woes:
Ye grilly spectres, gather round my feat,

Had ting'd the cloud with evening gold; From caves unbleft, that wretch's groans repeat!

No warbler pour'd the melting lay,
No found disturb'd the sleeping fold:

When, by a murm'ring rill reclin'd,
Sat, wrapt in thought, a wand'ring swain;
Calm peace compos'd his mufing mind;
And thus he rais'd the flowing strain:

Terrific forms, from mifty lakes arife!
And bloody meteors threaten thro' the fkies!
Oh curs'd deftroyers of our hapless race,
Of human kind the terror and disgrace!
Lo! hosts of dusky captives, to my view,
Demand a deep revenge! demand their due!
Aud

L14

Andfrowning chiefs now dart athwart the gloom
And o'er the faltfeawave pronounce your doom.
But Gods are juft, and oft the stroke forbear,
To plunge the guilty in tenfold despair.

ro till his glebe employs Arcona's care,
To Naftal's God he nightly makes his pray'r;
His mind at eafe, of Chriftian truths he'll boaft-
He has no wife, no lovely offspring loft.

Scorch'dupwith heat,ormoiftwithbloodandtears.
Cheerful his hearth in chilling winter burus,
While to the ftorm the fad Adala mourns.
Lift high the fcourge, my foulthe rackdifdains;
I pant for freedom and my native plains!
And wait for juítice on another shore?
Shall I his holy Prophet's aid implore.
Or, rushing down yon mountain's craggy steep,
End all my forrows in the fullen deep?
A cliff there hangs in yon grey morning cloud,
The dafhing wave beneath roars harfh and loud-
But doubts and fears involve my anxious mind,
Dubious, if fent beyond th' expanded main,
The gulph of deathon cepaís'd,what thorewefind:
This foul fhall feek its native realms again:
Or if in gloomy mifts condemn'd to lie,
Beyond the limits of yon arching sky.
A better prospect oft my spirit cheers,
And in my dreams the vale of peace appears,
And fleeting vifions of my former life:
And oft I kifs my gentle babes in fleep, [weep,
My hoary fire I clafp, my long-loft wife,
Till, with the founding whip, I'm wak'd to

Lift high thefcourge,myfoultherackdifdains;Gay his favannah blooms, while mine appears
I pant for freedom and my native plains!
With limbsbenumb'dmypoor companions lie,
Opprefs'd by pain and want the aged figh;
Thro' reedy huts the driving tempeft pours,
Their festeringwounds receivethe ficklyfhow'rs;
In madd'ning draughtsourlordstheirfenfes fteep,
And doom their flaves toftripesand deathinfleep;
Now, while the bitter blaft furrounds my head,
To times long past my restless soul is led,
Far, far beyond the azure hills, to groves
Of ruddy fruit, where beauty fearless roves-
O blifsful feats! O felf-approving joys!
Nature's plain dictates! ignorance of vice!
Oguiltless hours! Our cares and wants were few,
No arts of luxury or deceit we knew.
Our labour, fport-to tend our cottage care,
Or from the palm the lufcious juice prepare ;
To fit indulging love's delufive dream,
And fnare the filver tenants of the ftream;
Or (nobler toil) to aim the deadly blow
With dext'rous art against the fpotted foe;
O days with youthful daring mark'd! 'twas then
I dragg'd the fhaggy monster from his den,
And boldly down the rocky mountain's fide
Hurl'd the grim panther in the foaming tide.
Our healthful fports a daily feast afford.
And ev'n itill found us at the focial board.

Can I forget, ah me! the fatal day,
When half the vale of peace was fwept away!
Th' affrighted maids in vain the gods implore,
And weeping view from far the happy thore;
The frantic dames impatient ruffians feize,
And infantsfhriek,andclafp their mothers knees;
With galling fetters foon their limbs are bound,
Andgroansthroughout thenoifomebarkrefound.
Why was I bound! why did not Whydah fee
Adala gain or death, or victory!

No ftorms arife, no waves revengeful roar,
To dafh the monsters on our injur'd fhore.
Long o'er the foaming deep to worlds unknown,
By envious winds the bulky veffel's blown,
While by difeafe and chains the weak expire,
Or parch'd endure the flow confuming fire.
Who'd in this land of many forrows live,
Where death's the only comfort tyrants give?
Tyrants unbleft! Each proud of ftrict command,
Nor age nor fick nefs holds the iron hand;
Whole hearts, in adamant involv'd, defpife
The drooping female's tears, the infant's cries,
Fromwhofe ternbrowsnogratefullooke'erbeams,
Whofeblufhiefsfrontnor rape normurderfhames.
Nor all I blame; for Naftal, friend to peace,
Thro' his wide paftures bids oppreflion ceafe;
No drivers goad, no galling fetters bind,
No ftern compulfion damps th' exalted mind,
There ftrong Arcona's fated to enjoy
Domestic fweets, and rear his progeny ;

Lift highthefcourge,my foul therackdifdains;
I pant for freedom and my native plains!

Chiefs of the earth, and monarchs of the fea
Who vaunt your hardy ancestors were free;
Whoieteachers plead th' oppreis'd and injur'd's
caufe,

And prove the wifdom of your Prophet's laws;
To force and fraud if juftice mutt give place,
Some rougher race your flocks fhall force away,
You're dragg'd to flavery by fome rougher race.
Like Afric's fons your children must obey;
The very Gods that view our conftant toil,
Shall fee your offspring till a ruder foil,
The pain of thirst and pinching hunger know,
And all the torments that from bondage flow,
The fweets of peace, the lafting joys of love.
When far remov'd fromChriftianworlds weprove

But, hark! the whip's harth echo thro'thetrees!
On every trembling limb freth horrors feize-
Alas! 'tis morn, and here I fit alone-
Ruffians proceed! Adala ne'er fhall fwerve,
Be ftrong, my foul, and part without a groan!
Prepare the rack, and strain each aching nerve!
Lift high thefcourge,my foultherackdifdains;

I

pant for freedom and my native plains.
Who life difpenfeft by thy genial ray!
ThouGod, who gild'stwith light the rifingday!
Will thy flow vengeance never, never fall,
But undistinguish'd favour thine on all?
O hear a fuppliant wretch's laft, fad pray'r!
Dart fierceft rage! infect the ambient air!
This pallid race, whofe hearts are bound in steel,
By dint of fuffering teach them how to feel.

*The Quakers in America have set free all their Negrocs, and allow them wages as other servants.

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Or, to fome defpot's lawless will betray'd, JO! had I died, and left the name of flave Givethem toknow what wretches they have made! Deep, deep entomb'd within an early grave! Beneath the lafh let them refign their breath, O! had I died, ere ruthless fates contrain, Or court, in chains, the clay-cold hand of death, With thee enthrall'd, to cross the western main! Or, worit of ills! within each callous breaft Oh! to have met a glorious death in arms, Cherifh uncurb'd the dark internal pest; And ne'er beheld Melinda's fatal charms! Eid Av`rice fwell with undiminith'à Time would be fhort, and memory would fail, While no new worlds th' accurfed thirst afluage; To dwell diftinctly on the various tale. Then bid the monsters on each other turn, Tedious to tell what treach'rous arts were tried, The fury paffions in diforder burn; To footh the fmart of ftill revolting pride. Bid Difcord nourish, civil crimes increase, I liv'd, and lov'd-then kifs'd the fatal chain; i Nor one fond with arife that pleads for peace-No joy but one to cheer a life of pain. Till, with their crimes in wild confufion hurl'd, They wake t'eternal anguish in a future world.

§ 125. Evening; or, the Fugitive. An American Eclogue. GREGORY.

MOMBAZE.

SAY whether, wand'rer, points thycheerlessway.
When length'ning fhades announce the clofe
of day?

In yon wild waste no friendly roof thou'lt find
The haunt of ferpents and the savage kind.
Ant fure rememb'rance mocks me, or I trace
In thine the femblance of Zamboia's face?
Yet fcarce thyself! for in thy alter'd eye
I read the records of hard deftiny.
From thy rack'd bofom fighs that ceafelefs flow,
A man befpeak thee exercis'd in woe.
Say, then, what chance has burst thy rigid chains,
Has led thee frantic o'er thefe diftant plains?
What potent forrows can thy peace infeft?
What crimes conceal'd preyonthyanxiousbreaft?

ZAMBOIA.

No crimes this heart infeft, this hand defile,
Or frantic drive me o'er a foreign foil.
Amurder'dwife 2ndwrongs unmatch'd I mourn,
And buried joys, that never fhall return!
If then thou 'rt tempted by the traitor's meed,
Take this poor life, and profper by the deed!

MOMBAZE.

Not the rich produce of Angola's fhore,
Not all the mifer's heap'd and glittering ftore;
Not all that pride would grafp, or pomp difplay,
Should tempt this hand the wretched to betray.
No traitors dwell within this blest domain,
The friends of peace we live, a guilelefs train.
Grief dims thy eye, or gladly wouldst thou fee
Thy lov'd Mombaze yet furvives in me.
Canft thou forget? I taught thy youth to dare
The fylvan herd, and wage the defp'rate war.
Canft thou forget? One common lot we drew,
With thee enchain'd, a captive's fate I knew.
Diftruft me not, but unreferv'd disclose
The anxious tale that in thy bofom glows:
To part our griefs is oft to mitigate,
And focial forrows blunt the darts of fate.

ZAMBOIA.

Dear to my fight that form, and doubly dear Thy well-known accents meet Zamboia's ear.

Yet witnefs bear, thou dear departed ghost,
That lonely rov'ft thy Gambia's facred coast!
How fweet the toil that met the morning's ray,
How light the labour that o'er-lafted day!
The reed-built hovel, and the fcanty fare,
Imperial blifs could give, Melinda there!
Soft was my pillow, on thy gentle breaft,
When o'er prefs'dNature droop'd in want of reft!
And if a rebel tear difgrac'd my eye,
Thine was the tear, and thine the bursting figh.
Blifs I could boaft, unenvied had it pafs'd,
But blifs too great, for haplefs flaves, to laft.

Awretch, who banish'd from his native clime,
Defil'd with many a black and monstrous crime
Prefided o'er us, and with iron hand
Held favage fway o'er all the fervile band:
In him each hellish paffion rudely glow'd,
And cruelty in him moft cruel fhew'd.
Him luft infernal, one fad ev'ning, led
T invade the chaftenefs of my marriage lied:
I chanc'd t' approach-the caitiff I furpris'd-
My wife preferv'd, and had his guilt chaitis'd
While full with vengeance boil'd my wounded
But chance referv'd him for a bafer part. [heart:
Meanwhile, o'erjoy'd that vice e'en once had
I blefs'd thegodsthatinnocence prevail'd.[fail'd,

The baffled villain, now a foe profefs'd,
Rolls fcenes of blood within his ranklingbreaft;
With coward arts he forg'd a crafty tale;
And hands unrighteous poize the partial fcale.
Imputed crimes to crush the weak fuffice,
Where uncurb'd will ufurps the place of laws,
Hearfay is guilt, and damning fact furmife.
No friendly pleader takes the wretch's caufe.
Our tyrant's fears each want of proof fupplied,
We ftand condemn'd,unqueftion'd,anduntried.

O! had the grief and fhame been all my own,
And the black vengeance lit on me alone!
But harfher fates a harder curfe decreed;
Thefe eyes were doom'd to fee Melinda bleed.
I faw her by relentless ruffians bound,
The brandith'd fcourge inflict the mortalwound,
Her tender frame abus'd, and mangled o'er,
I faw her welt'ring in a flood of gore
The murd'rous fcene had foon a dreadful close-
And do I live! and can I ipeak my woes!
Her pregnant womb no longer could sustain
The public fhame, and agony of pain;
A birth abortive robb'd her of her breath,
And pangs convulfive feal'd her eyes in death.

This Eclogue was written during the American war.

One

One only pledge my weary foul detains,
This hapless infant, all that now remains ;
The mournful image of my once-lov'd wife,
And ties me down awhile to hated life.
Elfe this bold hand fhould liberty restore,
And my rapt fpirit feek a happier faore.
Tho' devious paths with timid hafte we fly,
Where yon blue mountains meet the bending
sky:

Nor ferpents' haunts I dread, nor deferts drear,
The master-favage, Man, alone I fear.

MOMBAZE.

Since from our native realms compell'd to

part,

Such pointedforrows have not touch'd my heart.
Infatiate plunderers! could it not fuffice
To rend, inhuman, all the focial ties ?
From guiltless joys that blefs'd our native foil,
Dragg'd to a life of mifery and toil;
Would you yet take the little God has given,
And intercept the gracious dews of Heaven?
Your rage for blood, wild as your thirst of gain,
Shall no refpects, not truths divine, restrain ?
Th' eternal fabric can a name undo?
Is rape and murder fanctified in you?
And us, what laws, as impious as fevere,
Forbid the common rites of man to share?
Did'ft thou, creative Power! thy views confine?
For one proud race the fpacious earth defign?
For them alone does plenty deck the vale,
Blush in the fruit, and tinge the fcented gale?
For them the feafons all their fweets unfold?

Blooms the freth rofe,and fhines thewaving gold?
O no! all bounteous is thy equal hand,
And thy fix'd laws irrevocable stand!
Hapless Zamboia! had it been thy fate
With me to fhare my more propitious state;
Thy foul had breath'd no impious wish to die,
Nor the big tear had trembled in thine eye.
Disjoin'd from thee, I too to flavery went;
But heaven a father, not a master, lent,
He feems as Virtue's felf in mortal guife;
Tho' wealthy, fimple; and tho' modeft, wife.
Bleft be the hand that life and freedom gave!
That pow'r can boaft, exerted but to fave!
Bleft the fage tongue that ftor'd the vacant mind,
The manners foften'd, and the heart refin'd!
That, ftill to Heaven's unerring dictates true,
Eternal truth unfolded to our view!

But, come! thy faint and weary limbs repofe.
Forgetful of thy fears, thy griefs compofe;
By morning's dawn with earneft foot I speed,
Nor fleep these eyes till I behold thee freed.
Some wealth I have! and, did I prize it more,
Well fpar'd for this I deem the facred ftore.

§ 126. A Defcription of a Parish Poor House. СЛАВВЕ.

THEIR is yon houfe that holds the parish poo, Whofe walls of mud fcarce bear the broken

door;

There, where the putrid vapours flagging play, There children dwell, who know no parents' care, And the dull wheel hums doleful thro' the day: Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed, Parents,whoknow nochildren's love, dwell there: Forfaken wives, and mothers never wed; Dejected widows, with unheeded tears, Andcrippled age, with more than childhoodfears! The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they! The moping idiot, and the madman gay.

Here too the fick their final doom receive, Here brought, amid the scenes of grief, to grieve: Where the loud groans from fome fad chamber flow,

Mix'd with the clamours of the crowd below: Here, forrowing, they each kindred forrow scan, And the cold charities of man to man: Whose laws indeed for ruin'd age provide, And strong compulfion plucks the fcrap from pride;

But ftill that fcrap is bought with many a figh, And pride embitters what it can't deny.

Say ye, opprefs'd by fome fantaftic woes, Some jarring nerve that baffles your repofe; Who prefs the downy couch, while flavesadvance With timid eye, to read the diftant glance; Who with fad prayers the weary doctor teale To name the nameless ever-new disease; Who withmock-patiencedire complaintsendure, Which real pain, and that alone, can cure; How would ye bear in real pain to lie, Defpis'd, neglected, left alone to die? How would ye bear to draw your latest breath, Where all that's wretched paves the way for death?

Such is that roomwhichone rude beamdivides, And naked rafters form the floping fides; Where the vilebands that bindthe thatcharefeen, And lath and mud are all that lie between; Save one dullpane,that,coarfely patch'd,givesway To the rude tempeft, yet excludes the day: Here, on a matted flock, with duft o'erspread, The drooping wretch reclines his languid head; For him no hand the cordial cup applies, Nor wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes; No friends with foft difcourfe his pain beguile, Nor promise hope till fickness wears a smile.

$127. Defcription of a Country Apothecary. CRABBL

BUT foon a loud and hafty fummons calls,

Shakes the thin roof, and echoes round the Anon a figure enters, quaintly neat, [walls: All pride and bus'nefs, buftle and conceit; With looks unalter'd by thefe fcenes of woe, With speed that, entering, fpeaks his hafte togoj

So talk'd thefe friends, and to the cottage hafte; While fad Zamboia his purfuers trac'd. The ruffian band arreft the hapless swain, And pray'rs, and tears, and promifes are vain: Their vengeful fervour, no-not gifts abate; But, bound in chains, they drag him to his fate. ♦ A higher reward is generally offered for the head of a fugitive negro than for bringing him alive;

He

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