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Ar length escap'd from ev'ry human eye,
From ev'ry duty, ev'ry care,
[share,
That in my mournful thoughts might claim a
Or force my tears their flowing stream to dry;
Beneath the gloom of this embow'ring shade,
This lone retreat for tender sorrow anade,

ss, the

woe,

happiest love,

I now may give my burthen'd heart relief,
And pour forth all my stores of grief;
Of grief surpassing every other
Far as the purest bliss,
Can on the ennobled mind bestow,
Exceeds the vulgar joys that move
Our gross desires, inelegant and low.
Ye tufted groves, ye gently-falling rills,
Ye high o'ershadowing hills,
Ye lawns gay-smiling with eternal green,
Oft have you my Lucy seen!

But never shall you now behold her more:
Nør will she now, with fond delight,
And taste refin'd, your rural charms explore.
Clos'd are those beauteous eyes in endless night,
Thosebeauteouseyes, wherebeaming us'd toshine.
Reason's pure light, and Virtue's spark divine.

Oft would the Dryads of these woods rejoice
To hear her heavenly voice;

For her despising, when she deigned to sing,
The sweetest songsters of the spring;
The woodlark and the linnet pleas'd no more:

The nightingale was mute,
And ev'ry shepherd's flute
Was cast in silent scorn away,
While all attended to her sweeter lay.
Ye larks and linnets, now resume your song:
And thou, melodious Philomel,
Again thy plaintive story tell;
For death has stopp'd that tuneful tongue,
Whose music could alone your warbling notes
[excel.

In vain I look around,

O'er all the well-known ground,
My Lucy's wonted footsteps to descry :
Where oft we us'd to walk;
Where oft in tender talk

We saw the summer sun go down the sky;

But those, the gentlest and the best, Whose holy flames with energy divine The virtuous heart enliven and improve, The conjugal and the maternal love.

Sweet babes! who like the little playful fawns, Where wont to trip along these verdant By your delighted mother's side, [lawns, Who now your infant steps shall guide? Ah! where is now thehand, whose tender care, To every virtue would have forin'd your youth, And strew'd with flow'rs the thorny ways of

truth?

O loss beyond repair!

O wretched father! left alone,
To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own!
How shall thy weaken'd mind, oppress'd with
And, drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, [woe,
Perform the duties that you doubly owe,
Now, she, alas! is gone,
Fromfollyandfrom vice their helpless age to save?

Where were ye, Muses, when relentless Fate
From these fond arms your fair disciple tore;
From these fond arms, that vainly strove
With hapless ineffectual love,
To guard her bosom from the mortal blow?
Could not your favoring pow'r, Aonian
maids,

Couldnot, alas! your power prolong her date; For whom so oft, in these inspiring shades, Or under Camden'smoss-clad mountains hoar, You open'd all your sacred store; Whate'er your antient sages taught, Your antient bards sublimely thought And bade her raptur'd breast with all your

spirit glow?

Nor then did Pindus or Castalia's plain,
Or Aganippe's fount, your steps detain,
Nor in the Thespian valleys did you play;
Nor then on Mincio's bank
Beset with osier's dank,

* The Mincio runs by Mantua, the birth-place of Virgil.

Nor

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low'd tomb;

But foremost thou, in sable vestment clad,
With accents sweet and sad,
[urn
Thou plaintive Muse, whom oler bis Laura's
Unhappy Petrarch call'd to mourn;
O come, and to this fairer Laura pay

A more impassion'd tear, a more pathetic lay!
Tell how each beauty of her mind and face
Was brighten'd by some sweet peculiar
How eloquent in ev'ry look [grace
Thro' her expressive eyes her soul distinctly
Tell how her manners, by the world refin'd,
Left all the taint of modish vice behind,
And make each charm of polish'd courts
With candid Truth's simplicity,
And uncorrupted Innocence !

spoke!

Tell how to more than manly sense

She join'd the soft'ning influence

soft ning

Of more than feinale tenderness:

[agree

How, in the thoughtless days of wealth and joy,

Which oft the care of others good destroy;

Her kindly-melting heart,

The Clitumnus is a river of

To every want, and every woe, To guilt itself when in distress,

The balm of pity would impart; And all relief that bounty could bestow! E'en for the kid or lamb, that pour'd its life

Beneath the bloody knife,

[to all.

Her gentle tears would fall;
Tears, from sweet Virtue's source, benevolent

Not only good and kind,
But strong and elevated was her mind !
A spirit that with noble pride
Could look superior down

On Fortune's spile or frown;
That could, without regret or pain,
To Virtue's lowest duty sacrifice
Or Interest or Anbition's highest prize:
That, injur'd or offended, never tried
Its dignity by vengeance to maintain,
But by magnanimous disdain,
A wit that, temperately bright,
With inoffensive light

All pleasing shone; nor ever pass'd
The decent bounds that Wisdom's sober hand,
And sweet Benevolence's mild command,
And bashful Modesty, before it çast,
A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'd,
That nor too little nor too much believ'd;
That scorn'd unjust Suspicion's coward fear,
And, without weakness, knew to be sincere.
Such Lucy was, when in her fairest days,
Amidst th' acclaim of universal praise.

In life's and glory's freshest bloom, [tomb. Death came remorseless on, and sunk her to the So, where the silent streams of Liris glide, In the soft bosom of Campania's vale, When now the wint'ry tempests all are Aed, And genial summer breathes her gentle gale, The verdant orange lifts its beauteous head; From ev'ry brauch the balmy flow'rets rise, On ev'ry bough the golden fruits are seen; With odors sweet it fills the smiling skies, The wood-nymphs tend it, and the Idalian

queen:

But, in the midst of all its blooming pride, A sudden blast from Apenninus blows, Cold with perpetual snows; [and dies. The tender brighted plant shrinks up its leaves, Arise, O Petrarch! from th' Elysian bow'rs, With never-fading myrtles twin'd, And fragrant with ambrosial flow'rs, Where to thy Laura thou again art join'd; Arise, and hither bring the silver lyre, Tun'd by thy skilful hand. To the soft notes of elegant desire, With which o'er many a land

Was spread the fame of thy disastrous love;

To me resign the vocal shell,

Umbria, the residence of Propertius.

The Anio runs Through Tibur or

or Tivoli, where Horace had a villa,

The Meles is a river of Ionia, from whence Homer, supposed to be born on its banks, is called

Mellisigenes.

クリ

The Wisus is a river at Athens,

And

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Would thy fond love his grace to her control,
And, in these low abodes of sin and pain,
Her pure exalted soul,
Unjustly, for thy partial good, detain?
No-rather strive they grovelling mind to raise
Up to that unclouded blaze,
That heavenly radiance of eternal night,
In which enthron'd she now with pity sees,
How frail, how insecure, how slight,

Is every mortal bliss?
Even Love itself, if rising by degrees
Beyond the bounds of this imperfect state,
Whose fleeting joys so soon must end,
It does not to its sovereign good ascend.
Rise then, my soul, with hope elate,
And seek those regions of serene delight,
Whose peaceful path, and ever-open gate,
No feet but those of harden'dGuilt shall mis:
There Death himself thy Lucy shall restore;
There yield up all his pow'r ne'er to divide you

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Then down she sunk despairing upon the drift [loud her wor And, wrung with killing anguish, lamented She kiss'd her babe's pale lips, and laid it by Then cast her eyes to heaven, then bow'd bet head, and died.

ed snow,

her side;

§ 97.

§ 95. The School Mistress. In Imitation of Spenser. SHENSTONE.

-Auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens, Infantumque animæ fientes in limine primo. Virg. Ан me! full sorely is my heart forlorn, To think how modest worth neglected lies, While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone as pride and pomp disguise; Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprize : Lend me thy clarion, Goddess! let me try To sound the praise of merit ere it dies; Such as I oft have chanced to espy, Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity. Inev'ryvillage, mark'd with little spire, [fame, Embower'd in trees, and hardly known There dwells, in lowly shade and mean attire, A matron old, whom we School-mistress

name;

to

Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame : They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, Aw'd by the pow'r of this relentless dame,. And oft-times, vagaries idly bent, [shent. For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely And all in sight doth rise a birchin tree,

on

Which Learningnearherlittle dome did stow, Whilonte a twig of small regard to see, Tho' now so wide its waving branches flow, And work the simple vassals mickle woe, For not a wind might curl the leaves that [low; But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat And, as they look'd, they found their horror

+

blew;

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aghast;

Sad servitude! Such comfortless annoy May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste! Ne superstition clog his dance of joy, Ne vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy! Near to this dome is found a patch so green, On which the tribe their gambols do display; And at the door impris'ning board is seen, Lest weakly wightsofsmallersizeshouldstray, Eazer, perdie, to bask in sunny day! [sourid, The noises intermix'd, which thence reDo Learning's little tenement betray; Where sits the dame, disguis'd in look pro[around. And eyes hor Fairy throng, and turns her wheel Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield ; Herapron dyed in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hate-bell that adorns the field: And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield Tway binchiysprays, with anxious fear entwin'd,

found

i

With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill'd, And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd, And fury uncontrol'd, and chastisement unkind. Few but have kenn'd, in semblance meet pourtray'd,

The childish faces of old Æol's train, Libs, Notus, Auster*: these in frowns array'd. How then would fareonearth, or sky, ormain, Were the stern God to give his slaves the rein? And were not she rebellious breasts to quell, And were not she her statutes to maintain,

The cot no more, I ween, weredeem'd the cell Where comely peace of mind and decent order

dwell.

A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown; A russet kirtle fene'd the nipping air; "Twas simple russet, but it was her own, 'Twas her own country bred the flock so fait; "Twas her own labor did the fleece prepare, And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'daround, Thro' pious awe did term it passing rare;

For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground. Albeit, ne flattery did corrupt her truth; Ne pompous title did debauch her ear; Goody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth, Or dame, the sole additions she did hear; Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear;

Ne would esteem him act as moughtbehove, Who should not honor'd eld with these revere; For never title yet so mean could prove, But there was ekea mind which did that title love. One antient hen she took delight to feed,

The plodding pattern of the busy dame, Which ever and anou, impell'd by need, Into herschool, begirt with chickens, came Such favor did her past deportment claim: And if neglect had lavish'd on the ground Fragment of bread, she would collect the same, For well she new, and quaintly cold expound.

she found.

What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak, That in her garden sipp'd the silv'ry dew, no vain flow'r disclos'd a gaudy streak..

Where

T

But herbs for use and physic not a few, Of grey renown, within those borders grew; The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme, Fresh baom, and marygold of cheerful hue, The lowly gill, that never dares to climb, And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to

rhyme.

Yet euphrasy may not be left unsting, Thatgivesdimeyes to wander leagues around; And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper wound;

* The south-west wind, south, &c.

And

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For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore, And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed; And in those elfins' ears would oft deplore 'The times when Truth by Popisa rage did bleed,

And tortions Death was true Devotion's meed; And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn, That nould on wooden image place her creed; And lawny saints in smould'ring flames did [return.

burn:

Ah! dearest Lord! forefend thilk days should e'er
In elbow chair, like that of Scottish stem,
By the sharp tooth of cank'ring Eld defac'd,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Our sov'reign prince and liefest liege is plac'd,
The matron fate: and some with rank she

grac'd, The source of children's and of courtier's pride! [pass'd) Redress'd affronts (for vile affronts there And warn'd them not the fretful to deride, But love each other dear, whatever them betide. Right well she knew each temper to descry, thwart the proud, and the submiss toraise; Some with vile copper prize exalt on high, Andsomeentice with pittance small of praise; And other some with baleful sprig she frays; E'en absent, she the reins of pow'r doth hold, While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she

sways;

Forewarn'd, iflittle bird their pranks behold,

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light!

And down they drop; appears his dainty skin, Fair as the furry coat of whitest ermilin. O ruthful scene! when from a nook obsure

His little sister doth his peril see: All playful as she sate, she grows demure, She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee; She meditates a pray'r to set him free: Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) To her sad grief that swells in either eye, And wrings her so, that all for pity she could die. No longer can she now her shrieks command, And hardly she forbears, thro' awful fear, Torushen forth, and, with presumptuonshand, To stay harsh justice in its mid career. On thee she calls, on thee, her parent dear! (Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow!) She sees no kind domestic visage near,

And soon a flood of tears begins to flow, And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. Butah! what penhis piteous plight may trace? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face?

The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? Theplenteous show'rthatdoeshis cheekdistain? When he in abject wise implores thedame, Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high she levels well her aim, And, thro' the thatch, his cries each falling

stroke proclaim.

The other tribe, aghast with sore disma
Attend, and conntheir tasks withinicklecare,
By turns, astonied, ev'ry twig survey,
And from their fellows hateful wounds be-

ware,

meet,

Knowing, Iwist, how each the same may share; Till fear has taught them a performance And to the well-known chest the dame repait, Wheace oft with sugar'd cates she doth 'em greet,

Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene un- And gingerbread y-rare; now, certes, doubly

fold,

sweet!

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