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Be these the rural paftimes that attend Great B*nfw*k's leifure: thefe fhall beft unbend His royal mind, whene'er, from state withdrawn, He treads the velvet of his Richmond lawn; These fhall prolong his Afiatic dream, Tho' Europe's balance trembles on its beam. And thou, Sir William! while thy plaftic hand Creates each wonder,which thy Bard has plann'd; While, as thy art commands, obfequious rife Whate'er can pleafe, or frighten, or surprise, O let that Bard his Knight's protection claim, And share, like faithful Sancho, Quixote's fame.
$145. Pleafures of Memory: a Poem. By SAMUEL ROGERS, Esq. hazel at blaz'd TheGipfy's faggot--there we ftood andgaz'd; Gaz'd on her fun-burnt-face with filent awe, Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw; Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er; The drowly brood that on her back the bore, Imps, in the barn with moufing owlet bred, From rifled rooft at nightly revel fed; Whofe dark eyes flash'd thro' locks of blackest fhade,
When in the breeze thediftant watch-dog bay'd: And heroes fled the Sybil's mutter'd call, Whofe elfin prowefs fcal'd the orchard-wall. As o'er my palm the filver piece the drew, And trac'd the line of life with fearching view, How throbb'd my fluttering pulfe with hopes and fears,
To learn the colour of my future years!
Ah, then, what honeft triumph flush'd my
This truth once known-To blefs is to be bleft! We led the bending beggar on his way; (Bare were his feet, his treffes filver grey) South'd the keen pangs his aged fpirit felt, And on his tale with inute attention dwelt. As in his fcrip we dropt our little store, And wept to think that little was no more, He breath'd his pray'r; "Long may fuch good"nefs live!"
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. But hark! thro' thofe old firs, with fullen fwell
When not a distant taper's twinkling ray
Gleam'd o'er the furze to light him on his way;
When not a fheep-bell footh'd his listening ear,
And the big rain-drops told the tempeft near;
Then did his horse the homeward track defcry.
The track that shunn'd his fad enquiring eye;
And win each wavering purpose to relent,
With warmth fo mild, to gently violent,
That his charm'd hand the careless rein refign'd,
And doubts and terrors vanish'd from his mind.
Recall the traveller, whofe alter'd form
Has borne the buffet of the mountain ftorm;
And who will first his fond impatience meet!
His faithful dog's already at his feet!
Yes, tho' the porter fpurn him from his door,
Tho' all, that knew him, know his face no more,
His faithful dog fhall tell his joy to each,
With that mute eloquence which passes speech.
And fee, the mafter but returns to die!
Yet who fhall bid the watchful fervant fly?
The blafts of heaven, the drenching dewsof earth,
The wanton infults of unfeeling mirth;
Thefe,when to guard misfortune's facred grave,
Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
The wreaths of conqueft, or the vows of love!
Led by what chart, transports the timid dov
Monarchs have gaz'd,and nations bleft the fight.
Pile rocks on rocks,bid woodsandmountainsrife,
Eclipfe her native fhades, her native skies;
'Tis vain! thro' ether's pathlefs wilds the goes,
And lights at last where all her cares repofe.
Sweet bird! thy truth fhall Harlem's walls
And unborn ages confecrate thy nett. [attest,
When with the filent energy of grief,
With looks that afk'd, yet dar'd not hope relief,
Want, with her babes, round generous valour
To wring the flow furrender from his tongue, 'Twas thine to animate her closing eye: Alas! 'twas thine perchance the firft to die, Crufh'd by her meagre hand, when welcom'd Icom'd from the iky.
§ 147- From the Same. [well! WHEN the blithe fon of Savoy, roving round With humble waresandpipeofmerryfound,
The church-clock ftrikes! ye tender scenes fare-
It calls me hence, beneath their shade to trace
The few fond lines that Time may foon efface.
On yon gray tone that frontsthechancel-door.
Worn fmooth by busy feet now feen no more,
Each eve we fhot the marble tho' the ring,
When the heart danc d,and life was in its fpring;
Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth,
That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth.
$146. From the Same.
OFT has the aged tenant of the vale
Lean'd on his ftaff to lengthen out the tale; Oft have his lips the grateful tribute breath'd,
From fire to fon with zeal
From his green vale and thelter'd cabin hies,
And fcales the Aips to vifit foreign skies;
Tho' far below the forked lightenings play,
And at his feet the thunder dies away,
Oft, in the faddle rudely rock'd to fleep,
While his mule browies on the dizzy fteep,
With memory's aid, he fits at home, and lees
His children fport beneath their native trees,
And bends, to hear their cherub voices call,
O'er the loud fury of the torrent's fall.
But can her fmitewith gloomy Madness dweli?
Say, can the chace the horrors of his cell?
Each fiery flight on phrenzy's wing reftrain,
| And mould the coinage of the fever'd brain,
When o'er the blatted heath the day declin'd,
And on the fcath'd oak wair'd the winter wind: There in the dust the wreck of Genius lies!
He, whofe arrefting hand fublimely wrought
Each bold conception in the sphere of thought;
Who from the quarried mafs, like Phidias drew
Forms ever fair, creations ever new!
But as he fondly fnatch'd the wreath of Fame,
The fpectre Poverty unnerv'd his frame.
Cold was her grafp, a withering fcowl fhe wore;
And Hope's foft energies were felt no more.
Yet ftill how fweet the foothings of his art!
From the rude ftone what bright ideas start!
Ev'n now he claims the amaranthine wreath,
With fcenes that glow, with images that breathe!
And whence thefe fcenes, thefe images declare,
Whence but from her who triumphs o'erdefpair?
Awake, arife! with grateful fervour fraught,
Go fpring the mine of elevated thought.
He who thro' Nature's various walk, surveys
The good and fair her faultlefs line pourtrays;
Whole mind, prophan'd by no unhallow'dgueft,
Calls from the crowd the pureft and the beft;
May range, at will, brigh: Fancy's golden clime,
Or mufing, mount where Science fits fublime,
Or wakt the fpirit of departed Time.
Who acts thus wifely, mark the moral muse,
A blooming Eden in his life reviews!
So richly cultur'd ev'ry native grace:
Its feanty limits he forgets to trace:
But the fond fool, when evening fhades the fky,
Turns but to ftart, and gazes but to figh!
The weary wafte, that lengthen'd as he ran,
Fades to a blank, and dwindles to a fpan!
Ah! who can tell the triumphs of the mind,
By truth illumin'd, and by tafte refin'd?
When age has quench'd the eye and clos'dtheear,
Still nerv'd for action in her native fphere,
Ort will the rise-with fearching glance purfue
Some long-lov'd image vanith'd from her view;
Dart thro' the deep receffes of the past,
O'er dufky forms in chains of flumber caft;
With giant-grafp fling back the folds of night,
And fnatch the faithlefs fugitive to light.
So thro' the grove th' impatient mother flies,
Each funiefs glade, each fecret pathway tries;
Till the light leaves the truant-boy difclofe,
Long on the wood-mofs ftretch'd in fweet repofe.
$148. From the Same.
OFT may the fpirits of the dead defcend,
To watch the filent flumbers of a friend;
To hover round his evening-walk unfeen,
And hold fweet converfe on the dusky green;
To hail the spot where firft their friendship grew,
And heaven and nature open'd to their view!
Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and fees
A fmiling circle emulous to please;
There may thefe gentle guefts delight to dwell,
And blefs the fcene they lov'd in life fo well!
O thou! with whom my heart was wont to
From Reafon's dawn each pleasure and each
With whom, alas! I fondly hop'd to know
The humble walks of happiness below;
If thy bleft nature now unites above
An angel's pity with a brother's love,
Still o'er my life preferve thy mild controul,
Correct my views, and elevate my foul:
Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,
Devout yet chearful, active yet refign'd;
Grant me,like thee, whofe heart knewnodifguife,
Whose blamelefs withes never aim'd to rife,
To meet the changes Time and Chance prefent,
With modeft dignity and calm content.
When thy laft breath, ere Nature funk to reft,
Thy meek fubmiflion to thy God exprefs'd;
When thy laft look, ere thought and feeling fied,
A mingled gleam of hope and triumph flied;
What to thy foul its glad affurance gave,
Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave?
The fweet Remembrance of unblemish'd youth,
The infpiring voice of Innocence and Truth!
Hail, Memory, hail! in thy exhaustlefs mine
From age to age unnumber'd treasures fhine!
Thought and her fhadowy brood thy call obey,
And Place and Time are fubject to thy fway!
Thy pleafures moft we feel when moft alone;
The only pleafures we can call our own.
Lighter than air, Hope's fummer-vifions die,
If but a fleeting cloud obfcure the sky;
If but a beam of fober Reafon play,
Lo, Fancy's fairy froft-work melts away!
But can the wiles of Art, the grafp of Power,
Snatch the rich relics of a well-fpent hour?
Thefe,when the trembling fpirit wings her flight,
Pour round her path a ftream of living light;
And gild thofe pure and perfect realins of reft,
Where Virtue triumphs, and her fons are blest.
$149. Verfes on a Tear. From the Same. OH! that the Chemist's magic art
Could cryftallize this facred treasure!
Long thould it glitter near my heart,
A fecret fource of penfive pleasure.
The little brilliant ere it fell,
Its luftre caught from Chloe's eye;
Then trembling, left its coral cell-
The fpring of Sensibility!
Sweet drop of pure and pearly light,
In thee the rays of Virtue fhine;
Than any gem that gilds the mine."
More calmly clear, more mildly bright,
Benign restorer of the foul!
Who ever fly it to bring relief,
When first the feels the rude controul
Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief.
The fage's and the poet's theme,
In every clime, in every age;
Thou charm'ft in Fancy's idle dream,
In Reafon's philofophic page.
That very law which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its fource,
That law preferves the earth a sphere,
And guides the planets in their courfe.
$150. A Sketch of the Alps at Day-break.
HE fun beams ftreak the azure skies,
And line with light the mountain's brow:
With hounds and horns the hunters rife,
And chafe the roe-buck thro' the fnow.
From rock to rock, with giant bound,
High on their iron poles they país;
Mute, left the air, convuls'd by found,
Rend from above a frozen mass.*
The goats wind flow their wonted way,
Up craggy fteeps and ridges rude;
Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey,
From defert cave or hanging wood.
And while the torrent thunders loud,
And as the echoing cliffs reply,
The huts peep o'er the morning cloud,
Perch'd, like an eagle's neft, on high.
$151. A Wib. From the Same.
MINE be a cot befide the hill;
A bee-hive's hum fhall footh my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
With many a fall fhall linger near.
The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,
Shall twitter from her clay-built neft;
Oft fhall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And fhare my meal, a welcome guest.
Around my ivied porch fhall fpring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy at her wheel fhall fing,
In ruffet gown and apron blue.
The village-church, among the trees,
Where first our marriage vows were giv'n,
With merry peals fhall fwell the breeze,
And point with taper fpire to heav'n.
$152. An Ode on Claffic Education+.
Down the fteep abrupt of hills
Furious foams the headlong tide.
Thro' the meads the streamlet trills,
Swelling flow in gentle pride.
Ruin vaft and dread difmay
Mark the clam'rous cataract's way.
Glad increase and sweets benign
Round the riv'let's margin fhine.
Youth! with steadfast eye perufe
Scenes to leffon thee display'd;
Yes-in these the moral Mufe
Bids thee fee thyfe portray'd.
Thou with headstrong wasteful force
May't reflect the torrent's courfe;
Or resemble streams, that flow
Bleft and bleffing as they go.
Infant fenfe to all our kind
Who fhall make the current stray
Smooth along the channell'd way?
Who fhall, as it runs, refine?
Who? but CLASSIC DISCIPLINE.
She, whatever fond defire,
Stubborn deed or guileful fpeech,
Inexperience might infpire,
Or abfurd indulgence teach,
Timely cautious fhall restrain,
Bidding childhood heart the rein
She with sport shall labour mix,
She excurfive fancy fix.
Prime fupport of learned lore,
PERSEVERENCE joins her train,
Pages oft turn'd o'er and o'er
Turning o'er and o'er again;
Giving, in due form of school,
Speech its meafure, pow'r, and rule:
Meanwhile memory's treasures grow
Great tho' gradual; fure, tho' flow.
Patient CARE by just degrees
Word and image learns to class;
Thofe compounds, and fep'rates thefe,
As in strict review they pass;
Joins, as various features ftrike,
Fit to fit and like to like,
Till in meek array advance
Concord, Method, Elegance.
TIME meanwhile, from day to day,
Fixes deeper Virtue's root;
Whence, in long fucceffion gay,
Bloffoms many a lively thoot:
Meek OBEDIENCE, following fill,
Frank and glad, a Mafter's will;
Modeft CANDOUR, hearing prone
Any judgment fave its own:
EMULATION, whose keen eye
Forward ftill and forward ftrains,
Nothing ever deeming high
While a higher hope rerains:
SHAME ingenuous, native, free,
Source of confcious dignity:
ZEAL impartial to pursue
Right, and juft, and good and true.
These and ev'ry kindred grace
More and more perfection gain;
While ATTENTION toils to trace
Grave record or lofty strain;
Learning how, in Virtue's pride,
Sages liv'd or heroes died;"
Marking how in virtue's cause
Genius gave and won applaufe.
Thus with EARLY CULTURE bleft,
Thus to early rule inur'd,
Infancy's expanding breaft
Glows with fenfe and pow'rs matur'd,
Whence, if future merit raise
Private love or public praife,
Thine is all the work-be thine
The glory-CLASSIC DISCIPLINE.
*There are passes in the Alps, where the guides tell you to move on with speed, and say nothing, lest the agitation of the air should loosen the snows above. GRAY, sect. v. let. 4.
Spoken in the year 1794, at the annual Visitation of Dr. Knox's School at Tunbridge.
Audit currus habenas. VIRGIL.
Suit the Action to the Word & the Word to the Action; with this special observance, that you o'erftep not the Modefty of Nature.