ELEG Y.

WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS OF PONTEFRACT CASTLE.

R

BY DR. LANGHORNE.

IGHT fung the bard, that all-involving Age,

With hand impartial, deals the ruthless blow;
That war, wide-wafting, with impetuous rage,
Lays the tall fpire and fky-crown'd turret low.

1 pile ftupendous, once of fair renown,
This mould'ring mass of shapeless ruin rofe;
Where nodding heights of fractur'd columns frown,
And birds obfcene in ivy-bow'rs repose:

the pale matron, from the threat'ning wall, "ufpicious, bids her heedlefs children fly; t, as he views the meditated fall, Full swiftly steps the frighted peasant by.

it more respectful views th' historick sage,
Mufing, thefe awful relicks of decay,
hat once a refuge form'd from hostile rage,
In Henry's and in Edward's dubious day.

, penfive, oft reviews the mighty dead,
That erft have trod this defolated ground;
Яects how here unhappy Sal'fbury bled,
When Faction aim'd the death-difpenfing wound.

t, gentle Rivers! and ill-fated Gray!
flow'r or tear oft ftrews your humble grave,
m Envy flew, to pave Ambition's way,

om a monarch wept in vain to save.

Ah!

Ah! what avail'd th' alliance of a throne ?

The pomp of titles what, or pow'r rever'd ? Happier! to these the humble life unknown,

With virtue honour'd, and by peace endear'd.

Had thus the fons of bleeding Britain thought,
When hapless here inglorious Richard lay,
Yet many a prince, whose blood full dearly bought
The shameful triumph of the long-fought day;

Yet many a hero, whofe defeated hand

In death refign'd the well-contefted field,
Had in his offspring fav'd a finking land,
The tyrant's terror, and the nation's fhield.

Ill could the Mufe indignant grief forbear,
Should Mem'ry trace her bleeding country's woes;
Ill could fhe count, without a bursting tear,
Th' inglorious triumphs of the varied rofe!

While York, with conqueft and revenge elate,
Infulting, triumphs on St. Alban's plain,
Who views, nor pities Henry's hapless fate,
Himself a captive, and his leaders flain?

Ah, prince! unequal to the toils of war,
To ftem ambition, Faction's rage to quell;
Happier! from these had Fortune plac'd thee far,
In fome lone convent, or fome peaceful cell.

For what avail'd that thy victorious queen
Repair'd the ruins of that dreadful day?

That vanquish'd York, on Wakefield's purple green,
Proftrate, amidst the common flaughter, lay?

In vain fair Vict❜ry beam'd the gladd'ning eye,

And, waving oft her golden pinions, smil'd; Full foon the flatt'ring goddess meant to fly,

Full rightly deem'd unfteady Fortune's child.

Let Towton's field-but cease the difmal tale;
For much it's horrors would the Mufe appal:
In fofter ftrains fuffice it to bewail

The patriot's exile, or the hero's fall.

Thus Silver Wharf *, whose chrystal-sparkling urn
Reflects the brilliance of his blooming shore,
Still, melancholy-mazing, feems to mourn,
But rolls, confus'd, a crimson wave no more.

E

RE yellow Autumn from our plains retir'd,

And gave to wint'ry ftorms the varied year, The fwallow-race, with forefight clear infpir'd, To fouthern climes prepar'd their course to steer.

On Damon's roof a grave affembly fate;

His roof, a refuge to the feather'd kind: With ferious look he mark'd the nice debate, And to his Delia thus addrefs'd his mind.

• Obferve yon twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid;

• Obferve, and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n!

With us thro' fummer's genial reign, they stay'd,
And food and lodging to their wants were giv'n.

* A river near the scene of battle, in which were flain 35,000 men.

But

But now, thro' facred prefcience, well they know
The near approach of elemental ftrife;
The bluftry tempeft, and the chilling fnow,
With ev'ry want, and scourge of tender life!

Thus taught, they meditate a speedy flight;
For this, e'en now they prune their vig'rous wing;
For this, confult, advise, prepare, excite,
• And prove their strength in many an airy ring.

No forrow loads their breaft, or fwells their eye,
To quit their friendly haunts, or native home;
Nor fear they, launching on the boundless sky,
In fearch of future fettlements, to roam.

They feel a pow'r, an impulfe all divine!

That warns them hence; they feel it, and obey: To this direction all their cares refign,

• Unknown their deftin'd stage, unmark'd their way!

'Well fare your flight, ye mild, domestick race! Oh! for your wings to travel with the fun!

6

• Health brace your nerves, and Zephyrs aid your pace, Till your long voyage happily be done!

See, Delia, on my roof your guests to-day;

To-morrow on my roof your guests no more! Ere yet 'tis night, with hafte they wing away, To-morrow lands them on fome fafer fhore.'

How juft the moral in this fcene convey'd !

And what without a moral would we read? Then mark what Damon tells his gentle maid; And with his leffon regifter the deed.

'Tis

'Tis thus life's chearful feasons roll away; • Thus threats the winter of inclement age: • Our time of action but a summer's day;

And earth's frail orb the fadly-varied stage!

And does no pow'r it's friendly aid difpenfe,
• Nor give us tidings of fome happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence,

Beyond the ftroke of Death, the verge of time?

Yes, yes, the facred oracles we hear,

That point the path to realms of endless day: That bid our hearts nor death nor anguish fear; • This future tranfport, that to life the way.

• Then let us timely for our flight prepare,

And form the foul for her divine abode ;
Obey the call, and truft the Leader's care,
To bring us fafe, thro' Virtue's paths, to God.

• Let no fond love for earth exact a figh;

• No doubts divert our steady steps afide ;

• Nor let us long to live, nor dread to die:
Heav'n is our hope, and Providence our guide.'

PART II.

WRITTEN IN APRIL.

AT length the winter's furly blafts are o'er ;

Array'd in smiles the lovely spring returns:

Health to the breeze unbars the screaming door,
And ev'ry breaft with heat celestial burns.

Again