As rolling years matur'd his age, He flourish'd bold and sinewy as his sire ; While the mild passions in his breast assuage The fiercer flames of his maternal sire. ANTISTROPHE. Accomplish'd thus, he wing'd his way, And zealous rov'd from pole to pole, The rolls of right eternal to display, And warm with patriot thoughts th' aspiring soul. On desert isles 'twas he that rais'd Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave, Where Tyranny beheld amaz'd (grave. Fair Freedom's temple, where he mark'd her He steel'd the blunt Batavian's arms To burst th? Iberian's double chain ; And cities rear'd, and planted farins, Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide domain, He, with the generous rustics, sate On Uri's rocks in close divan; Which ascertained the sacred rights of man. STROPHE. Arabia's scorching sands he cross'd, Where blasted Nature pants supine ; To Freedom's adamantine shrine; He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing ; And taught amidst the dreary waste Th' all-cheering hymns of Liberty to sing. 3* He virtue finds, like precious ore, Diffus'd through every baser mould, Evin now he stands on Calvi's rocky shore, And turns the dross of Corsica to gold. He, guardian genius, taught my youth Pomp's tinsel livery to despise : My lips by him chastis'd to truth, Ne'er paid that homage which the heart denies. ANTISTROPHE. Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread, Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity combin'd, To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread ; And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind. Where Insolence his wrinkled front uprears, And all the flowers of spurious Fancy blow; And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears, Full often wreath'd around the miscreant's brow; Where ever-dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain, Presents her cup of stale Profession's froth; And pale Disease, with all his bloated train, Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth. STROPHE. In fortune's car behold that minion ride, With either India's glittering spoils oppress'd: So moves the sumpter-niule, in harness'd pride, That bears the treasure which he cannot taste. For him let venal bards disgrace the bay, And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string; Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay; And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ring ; Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread shall intervene ; And Nature, still to all her feelings just, In vengeance hang a damp on every scene, Shook from the baleful pinions of Disgust. ANTISTROPHE. Nature l'll court in her sequester'd haunts, By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell, Where the pois’d lark his evening ditty chaunts, And Health and Peace, and contemplation dwell. There, Study shall with Solitude recline; And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-swains; And Toil and Temperance sedately twine The slender cord that fluttering Life sustains ; And fearless Poverty shall guard the door ; And Taste unspoild, the frugal table spread; And Industry supply the humble store; And Sleep unbrib'd his dews refreshing shed : White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite, Shall chase far off the goblins of the night; And Independence o'er the day preside, Propitious power! my patron and my pride. Smollet. SOLITUDE. O SOLITUDE, romantic maid ! Or, at the purple dawn of day, You, recluse, again I woo, And again your steps pursue. Plum'd Conceit, himself surveying; Folly, with her shadow playing ; Purse proud, elbowing Insolence ; Bloated empiric, puff'd Pretence; Noise, that through a trumpet speaks ; Laughter, in loud peals that breaks ; Intrusion with a fopling's face, (Ignorant of time and place) Sparks of fire Dissention blowing, Ductile, court-bred Flattery, bowing; Restraint's stiff neck, Grimace's leer; Squint-ey'd Censure's artful sneer; Ambition's buskins, steep'd in blood, Fly thy presence, Solitude ! Sage Reflection, bent with years; Conscious Virtue, void of fears ; Muffled Silence, wood-nymph shy; Meditation's piercing eye; Halcyon Peace, on moss reclin'd ; Retrospect, that scans the mind ; Rapt earth-gazing Reverie, Blushing artless Modesty, Health that şnuffs the morning air, Full-ey'd Truth, with bosom bare, Inspiration, Nature's child, Seek the solitary wild. You, with the tragic muse retir'd, The wise Euripides inspir'd You taught the sadly-pleasing air Monody on the death of Lady Lyttleton, |