Such was Calliopé's unhappy fon,

Whofe tuneful harp could foothe the favage kind,
And bid defcending ftreams forget to run.
Poor youth! no charms in mufic could he find,
His bride twice loft, to ease his love-fick mind,
When hid beneath the hoary cliffs he lay

On Strymon's banks, and mourn'd his life away.

Such was the eyeless Greek, great facred name! Who fnatch'd the fon of Thetis from the grave; And hung his arms high in the house of fame, Victorious ftill, Time's envious pow'r to brave, While funs arise and seek the western wave. Such he, who in Sicilia's flow'ry plains Tun'd to the oaten reed his doric ftrains.

And he, who fung the frantic rule of chance,
Leaving no room for wisdom and for choice,
And built the world with atoms drove askance,
Theme all unworthy of a skilful voice:
And Mantua's fwan, whofe clearer notes rejoice:
Th' enravish'd ear; fo graceful he relates
Flocks, fields, and fwains, and fierce contend-
ing states.

And,

And, like the Greek in fate and in renown,
Britannia's poet, born in latter days,

Whofe brow new wreaths and flow'rs celeftial crown;
Who fung man's hapless fall, and angels' frays;
And, bold to venture through untrodden ways,
Explor'd the fecrets of the frowning night,
And foar'd above the ftars with daring fiight.

Nor fhall my partial fong leave Thee unfaid,
Worthy to mix with this harmonious band,
Thee, gentle Spenfer, whom the mufes led
Through fancy's painted realms and fairy land,
Where vice and virtue all embody'd stand,
Where useful truths in fair disguise appear,
And more is understood than meets the ear.

Come, condescending goddess, and impart
A mild affiftance to an aking breast:
Exert the force of thy propitious art;
If thou be prefent, who can be diftreft?
Pain feems to fmile, and forrow is at rest;
The thoughts in mad diforder cease to roll,
And still ferenity o'erfpreads the foul.

See our Author's Remarks on Spenser, inferted in this collection.

By

By thee the youth encourag'd nought to fear,
'Sdeigning ignoble ease and mean repofe,
Meets the fwift fury of the threat'ning fpear,
And follows glory through an hoft of foes.
Nor canft thou not the din of arms compose:
Thou mak'ft the God of war forfake the field,
And drop his lance, and lay afide his fhield.

Thou know'st, in pleafing, how to wound the mind,

Surpris'd, unguarded, and to love betray'd :
Alas! why art thou to that impe fo kind,

That pow'rful impe, in heav'n and earth obey'd?
His fhafts strike deep, and want no other aid:
Deep strike his fhafts, unerring in their aim,
And his torch burns with unextinguifh'd flame,

These are thy triumphs, goddefs, this thy might,
Faintly defcrib'd in far unequal lays.
Me, all unmeet, fond hopes did ftill incite,
Ambitious by thy name my verse to raise,
And find thy favour, whilft I fung thy praise.

O fmile on these endeavours, heav'nly maid!
Sweet is the toil, if with thy fmile repaid.

XXIII.

TH' ambitious mufe with early-daring flight
Spurn'd the dull neft, and ventur'd into light;
Yet even then, not fondly indiscreet,

She burnt a volume where the fpar'd a fheet;
Dwelt with the authors of the golden age,
And stole fome beauties from the claffic page;
In modern verfe would willingly have fhone,
And read POPE's poems, and deftroy'd her own;
Suffer'd no peevish lines to see the day;
(Spleen oft compos'd what candour threw away ;)
Nor wrong'd herself, nor wrong'd another's name,
Too proud to fawn, too honeft to defame;
Remote, and fhelter'd, in the paths she chose;
From foolifh friends and formidable foes:

Non inelegans effe hoc Epigramma, præfertim in fine, libens concedo, fed antiquum dubito ; veritus conditum ac cufum effe in officinâ recentioris Poetæ Itali, minimè quidem inepti, quanquam verfus fecundus delicatas aures, ut durior, poffit offendere.

Præcipua pars carminis colores fuos, licet languidiori Imitatione, debet optimo Epigrammati, ubi Atimetus Homonœæ,

Si penfare animas finerent crudelia fata,
Et poffet redimi morte aliena falus;
Quantulacumque meæ debentur tempora vitæ,
Penfaffem pro te, cara Homona, libens.
At nunc, quod poffum, fugiam lucemque deofque,
Ut te matura per Styga morte fequar.

< Hoc Epigramma edidit Burmannus in Anthol. Latin. Vol. II. Epigr. CXLIII. p. 94. et noftram Infcriptionem in notis laudavit. "Ultimi, autem, inquit, diftichi elegantiffimum colorem forte adoptavit Poeta, nefcio quis, in Epitaphio PAETAE, et inter loca conferenda attulit Eurip. Alceft. 370.

Αλλ εν εκεισε προσδοκα μ' διαν θανω,
Και δωμ' εοιμαζ', ὡς ξυνοικήσεσ' εμενα

Verba funt Admeti, ad Alcestin jam morituram.”