Bear me, ye winds! indulgent to my pains, And from the mouldering refuse build my cell. Or pensive sit beneath some nodding tow'r. Genius of Carthage! paint thy ruin'd pride; Is built frail Fear, or Hope's deceitful pile; Inopemque vitam in tugurio ruinarum Carthaginensium toleravit, cum Marins inspiciens Carthaginem, illa intuens Marium, alter alteri possent esse solatio.' Liv. EXPLANATION. Marius endured a life of poverty under shelfer of the Carthaginian ruins; and while he contemplated Carthage, and Carthage beheld him, they might be said mutually to resemble and account for each other. HE REPEATS THE SONG OF COLIN, A DISCERNING SHEPHERD, LAMENTING THE STATE OF THE WOOLLEN MANUFACTORY. Ergo omni studio glaciem ventosque nivales, Thou, therefore, in proportion to their lack VIRG. NEAR Avon's bank, on Arden's flowery plain, A tuneful shepherd' charm'd the listening wave, And sunny Cotsol' fondly lov'd the strain, Yet not a garland crowns the shepherd's grave! Oh! lost Ophelia! smoothly flow'd the day To feel his music with my flames agree, To taste the beauties of his melting lay, To taste, and fancy it was dear to thee. When for his tomb, with each revolving year, I steal the musk-rose from the scented brake, I strew my cowslips, and I pay my tear, I'll add the myrtle for Ophelia's sake. Shivering beneath a leafless thorn he lay, [tongue; 1 Mr. Somervile. 'Adieu, my flocks!' he said, 'my wonted care, "Where the wild thyme perfumes the purpled heath, "Ah! what avails the timorous lambs to guard, If Gallia's craft the ponderous fleece purloin? Was it for this, by constant vigils worn, I met the terrors of an early grave? For this I led 'em from the pointed thorn? For this I bath'd 'em in the lucid wave? "Ah! heedless Albion! too benignly prone Thy blood to lavish and thy wealth resign! Shall every other virtue grace thy throne, But quick-ey'd Prudence never yet be thine? 'From the fair natives of this peerless hill Thou gav'st the sheep that browze Iberian plains; Their plaintive cries the faithless region fill, Their fleece adorns an haughty foe's domains. 'Ill-fated flocks; from cliff to cliff they stray; Far from their dams, their native guardians, far! Where the soft shepherd, all the livelong day," Chants his proud mistress to his hoarse guitar. 'But Albion's youth her native fleece despise; 'Oft have I hurried down the rocky steep, Anxious to see the wintry tempest drive; [Sheep! "Preserve," said I, " preserve your fleece, my Ere long will Phillis, will my love, arrive." Ere long she came : ah, woe is me! she came, Rob'd in the Gallic loom's extraneous twine; For gifts like these they give their spotless fame, Resign their bloom, their innocence resign. 'Will no bright maid, by worth, by titles known, Give the rich growth of British hills to fame? And let her charms, and her example, own That Virtue's dress and Beauty's are the same? 'Will no fam'd chief support this generous maid? Once more the patriot's arduous path resume? And, comely from his native plains array'd, Speak future glory to the British loom? 'What pow'r unseen my ravish'd fancy fires? I pierce the dreary shade of future days; Sure 'tis the Genius of the land inspires, To breathe my latest breath in ** praise. 'O might my breath for * * praise suffice, How gently should my dying limbs repose! O might his future glory bless mine eyes, My ravish'd eyes! how calmly would they close! was born to spread the general joy; By virtue rapt, by party uncontroll'd; Britons for Britain shall the crook employ; Britons for Britain's glory shear the fold.' WRITTEN IN SPRING 1743. AGAIN the labouring hind inverts the soil; As the soft lyre display'd my wonted loves, My time, unlavish'd in pursuit of pow'r. Yes, Alpheus! fly the purer paths of Fate; I dress'd an altar to Thalia's name; Fly the false dictates of the venal race, Fly the gross accents of the venal tongue. 'Swear that no lucre shall thy zeal betray; Swerve not thy foot with Fortune's votaries more; Brand thou their lives, and brand their lifeless dayThe winning phantom urg'd me, and I swore. |