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HARMODIUS. • Her roving thought no trace of reason bears :
• To her rack'd mind, O Heav'n! thy peace impart ! • A loving parent bathes thy cheek with tears;
• Harmodius holds thee to his breaking heart !'
• To thee, I grateful kneel, O generous seer !
• Who doft, to one unknown, thy care extend ! • Along thy path may Peace her olives rear,
• And Heaven, in battle, field thy dearest friend!
• For me, who droop beneath Misfortune's shower,
• I had a father-now, alas! a foe• Thoul't blush to hear-in forrow's darkest hour,
• He leaves his child abandon'd to her woe!
· But to thy heart, that's fram'd of softer mould,
• What can to thee a wretch like me endear! · The spring, the motive of thy love unfold ;
Say, fay, for me why flows that friendly tear!
• Yet soft awhile-methinks that hoary brow,
· That plaintive voice-Ah, bear with my distress! • Or much remembrance is effac'd, or now, • A tender father's tear-dew'd cheek I press!'
HARMODIUS. « On knees of gratitude I bless the skies, " That Amabella to herself restore !
AMABELLA. • Ah, wherefore doft thou joy! thy daughter dies :
Support me to yon couch I can no more
• I feel, I feel the pulse of life retire !
. Ah, deign to hear thy dying child reveal, • What, in rebellion to thy juft desire,'
• Lock'd in her breast, the dar'd so long conceal!
• By thee unsanction'd, did I plight my love,
AMABELLA. • To him thy pardon thou canst ne'er proclaim !
· Three fleeting hours had scarcely call'd me bride,
• When he was summon’d to the martial plain ; • And there-forgive these tears in beauty's pride,
• The much-lamented valiant youth was Nain.
• What tho' unworthy of thy care I prove,
• To thy remembrance let thy child be dear ; · Thy kind compaffion let the daughter move,
• When this weak frame shall press th' untimely bier.'
More would she fay--her voice began to fail,
From her faint eye life's lingering spark retir'd; The ripening cherry on her lip grew pale,
She heav'd a figh-and in that figh expir'd.
A BRITISH PHILIPPICK:
OCCASIONED BY THE INSULTS OF THE SPANIARDS, AND
THE PRESENT PREPARATIONS FOR WAR.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXXXVIII.
BY DR. AKENSIDE.
HENCE this unwonted transport in my breast?
Why glow my thoughts, and whither would the Muse Aspire with rapid wing? Her country's cause Demands her efforts ; at that sacred call She summons all her ardour, throws aside
The trembling lyre, and with the warrior's trump
Alas, the vain attempt ! what influence now
The British spirit, generous, warm and brave ;
Come, then, the various powers of forceful speechl is
Than Greek or Roman fame, exalt