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Select Poetry, Ancient and Modern, før March, 1988.

249 MR. URBAN,

Marcb 2.

Forty summers I have seen,
HE following verses are the production Time enough to make me wise,

of the ingenious Miss Seward : they I can look at bright fixteen,
have never yet appeared, I believe, in print. With pleas'd, but undesiring eyes.
The object of them was the wife of a clergy-
man, who strictly merited the Eulogium. Mr. URBAN,

March 4. R. PRIESTLEY having observeil, in

his book, intituled, “ Experiments upcareer,

on Air," that 'a rofe kept under a glass Three lovely Sisters press’d th' untimely bier. jar haid in a short time so infected the air as Last of the fallen blossoms, griev'd I pay

to render it unfit for respiration, occasioned At thy white shrine this tributary lay.

the following Poem. If ever dwelt in mortal woman's mind Angelicworth, from Sin's dark stains refin’d;

THE ROSE TO DR. PRIESTLEY. Oh, lovely Hannah ! in thy beauteous frame, From heaven to carth, the soft perfectiou came.

AH! once to purest, unpolluied fame Unhappy husband, who art doom'd to mourn I, fairest flower, with ardent hope afpir’d; Thy lamp of joy extinguish'd in her urn;

Once every Mule rever'd my honour'd name, Oh, may thy sorrowing breast her meekness And every eye my blushing charms desir'd. prove !

My blooming race th'immortal Bard has sung, Oh, live to emulate thy fainted Love! That first in groves of Paradise we grew; So shalt thou, patling a few patient years, That there we,lovelierbloilom'd, fairer sprung, With pious hope illume thy falling tears : Our verdant stems no thorny briars kuew *. And, when thy clay this sacred dust shall join, My fame the animated canvas speaks; Be ever hers, who transiently was thine."

Descriptive Beauty borrows charms from me; S. J. Behold my hues display'd in Hehe's cheeks!

The radiant morn with rosy fingers see! MR. URBAN,

Mirch 3: cannot but think that you have deviated Umblemish'd long my modest beauties glow'd,

a little from your usual discretion, in in- Unblemith'd sweetsthofe beauties shed around, serting among your last month's poetry a

And wasted odours by the breeze bestow'd, trifle of the freer kind, with the name at

Were balmy treasures in my bosom found. full length of its author, who certainly did The nymphs and swains, delighting to inhale not communicate it himself, and cannot be So pure a breath, oft woo'd the vernal air; very well pleased to see his juvenile follies Presumpt:vous Science now defames that gile thus rife up in judgment against him. By way Whose rich effluvia Gods might deign to Marc. of amends, I think you ought to make equally Detested Sage! whose penetrating eye public the presene sentiments concerning Surveys mysterious Nature's secret powers, matters of that nature, of the same person,

Dare thy experiments my fame decry, Cujus octavum trepidavil elas

And rank my fcent with that of vileft Powers! Cloudere luftrum.

With Night-Thade, Hellebore, and Aconite: To Miss ED, ON HER HAIR. Whole noxious juice contains the livid death, By Dr. Ayo

Who lurk in deserts far frem mortal light, ANNA! cease with envions care

Nor blend with Flora's sweets their tainted Thus to veil thy beauteous face,

breath. Whilo beneath that shade of hair

Ah! Thould Persuasion crown thy learned lore, Buried lies full mıny a grace.

And Fame appland thy scientific talte ; Where's the brow as ivory clear,

An exile I from this luxuriant shore, Where the cheek's delightful glow, On barren mountains may my odours wafte. Where the nicely roundeiear,

No more of Summer'schoren bowers the pride, And the well-turn'il-neck of fuow?

My leaves expanding to the orient sun; Yet those auburn locks of thine,

No more on Beauty's snowy breifi refide; Down thy face that waving play,

Beauty shall learn my baleful charms to poun. And in wanton ringlets twine,

Nore'er transplant me to th'embellini'droom, Who could bear to lop away!

In China's fplenilid sites to appeal',

Nor round her couchaduri mydreandperfume, Soon enough by Fashion's hand

Nor care to duinber if the Roro be ner. Shall those flowing curis be drest, And each feature marthald Itand,

No more tho Lixury, cu give ine birth, Fatal to the gazer's rest.

Raise the w:rmile excluding Winter's culis

Nor, mid the diety frenc: ot 1:76) Carthi, But let me, secure from harm,

Court my reluctarit $1.1063 co inillo
Draw the veil that checks my right;
Let me view each riting charm

* 56 And withio! torn the rose, With a Filthier's calm delighe.


chage toyo, *.!!

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Yet koollowhate'er thy celebrated art, Thy clergy liften'd to the f long adieu, Whate'er thy volumes may presume to shew, Which yet to memory fond affection gives, The Role fhall grateful pleasure still impart, And all the Fat ber's reverend form withdrew And fill a welcome fragrance shall bellow. Which in the duteous heart unfading lives.

For who but bail'd the Father, as he saw Remote from science, in th' unletter'd plain,

Thy gracious mien thi' unthinking million Where no philofopher our fame affails, Tliere, umieproach'd, shall bloom the vernal Thy native dignity, commanding awe, (move!

Thy condescending smile, inspiring love ! train, There, unimpechi’d, shall flow our spicy gales. And O! let Piety repose a while [owns

Upon thy warning voice, where memory SONNET TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esc, Fluent along the ftill Cathedral aisle By HENRY F. CARY,

The simple pathos in thy mellow tones; Sullon, Coldfield, Mareb 4.

Where memory, as thy strong pursuasion

Each unaffected accent on her ear, (pours TAYLEY! whose polith'd yet enchant- Yet, in the Christian preacher, yet adores ing long

An energy that itamp'd thy faith fincere. Oft charms ch' attention of my infant

If from the public scene thy iteps retire, While she, like thine, her flowery toil

Where every softer virtue loves to bless pursues,

Life's filent walk, the husband and the fire Far from the tumult of the City : throns,

Biend their ear influence,inthycalmrecesc, The meals, the freims, and oxhoing rocks

There, often, fall thy genuine graces rise, amonsSay! what fresh garland of delightful hues, There,often, thy domestic worth be tracid, Twin't thou, sweet Bard! fraught with By tbosi, who, closelier link'd in friendship's th' ambrofiul cu's

ties, Of Poefy, where her wild wave along

Imbib’d thy feelings and thy cultur'd taste. The happy Arun ro'k--aclaflic eide

I too have mark'd thee, musing with delight Whas beav'nly theme awakes thy lyreagain? On the fair visions of thy earlier youth,

For though thyself be to my fight denied ; When fiction, in Athenian glory bright, Yet still I know I love thee in thy train, Led thy free fancy to the bower of truth. Happy', should it thou, todeathlefs fame alliedy And I have seen thee snatch th' illufive charm below one look on an aspiring Twain.

That gives to life's gay morn its vivid glow;

And, with the tiufhof long-lost feelings warm, LINES in Memory of the late ARCHDEACON

Melt o'er th' ideal portraitures of woe. of CORNWALL.

But many a brooding ill, that darkens life, WEET is the balmy figh, when sorrow To cloud thy visionary views conspir'd, grieves

[of earth ; What time disease, amid thy dwelling rife. For fi benci thip forn from all the hopes This wasting fons with fever'd venom fir'de Dinaruhly precious is the figh that heaves

Alas! it was thy doom to see direale O'er the pale athes of distinguish'd worth.

Atlailthy oifpring-with no power tofave-Loinented Si.Fech! Such excellence was

Ah, thine-o follow with enfeebled knees tinine,


Tlıy latt-lest son, in sorrow, to the grave! Thro' many a path of varying life cif Yet-thine-the genial comforts of thejuftWhether wo view ilic dignified Divine, Yet " to confirm the feeble knees,” were Ordrace thy virtues to the private thade.


JEtherealbalms !--And, from the fineral clust While kin:drednieks thytraits ofyouth engage,

The parent rais d bis tearful eye-to heaven. Its briglir unfolding bloom beibers to paint; only knew thy ve:erable age, [Saint! Thence holy lepe dispers'd thy earthly pain ; Wherc mildly beam'd the Patriarcha in the Chas'd every human relic of thy tears;

Anus, smiling, to her own empyreal train, Al' first I knew ilice, when thy liberal Resign’d thee, full of honors, full of years!

With all therpirit oft'sy CAMDES+slow'd; Ev'n when decaying nature, at the last,

As into quiet ficcp link weary down,
And breathing. benevolence, too large
For narrow louls, in fine expanfion flow'd. With boly Whare thi phacid moments part,

Thine eyes itill fix'd upon thy heavenly Ther, as thx open countenance etfis'd

Te triendly Hufre, in its mentai ray And, as the period of thy bliss drew nigh, Berthodox'd lvy a peative thought that Pure angels opening all the bleft aboule,

'Twas but the pailing of one gentle high Othc sim prospect of thy terting day; T!iat told, thy puted fpirit was with God!

RP. * this Tiin:10.14,

The Archdeacon harh, fereral times, on Togrul College te luis friend and patron. ha vifitaniens, tahen leave of lois Clergy.



Selat Poetry, Ancient and Modern, for March, 1788. TO THE CROCUS. of all despis'd, save him whose liberal hear. UPR TPRIGHT as are the thoughts of her I Taught him to feel your wrongs, and plea ! prize,

your cause, Second of flowers, tho' little canst thou boalt Departed Hanway.--Peace to his foul ! May charm the right or gratify the smell,

Great is that man, who quits the path of famo, I love thee ; for of all this goodly scene,

Who, wealth forsaking, stoops his towering Which we behold, ought earlier than thy self


(his aim My soul remembers : in my boyith years

From Learning's heights, and stretches aus

To raise from duft the meanest of his kind. I've mark'd thy coming withiincelant watch; Oft have I visited each moru the spot [fee

Now that the Mule to thee her debt bus pris, Wherein thou lay't entombil; oft joy'd to

Friend of the poor, and guardian of the Thy pointed tops just peering o'erthe ground:

wrong'al, And ah ! fond fool! how often halt thou bared

Back let her pleas'u return, to view those Their tender sides, till thy too greedy love

sports, Has kill'd the flowers, its strange impatience

Whose rude fimplicity has chums for me, To basten into bloom. So do not ye, [strove Beyond the ball, or midnight masquerade. Wbom heaven has bleft with children; but

Oft on that merry morn I've join il cheir beware

thromg Left ye expose your darling hopes too soon

A glad spectator, oft their uncouth dance To the world'sfury, there to face those winds, Ey'd must attentive, where with tawdry new Whose bitter biting chills the weakly plant ;

Ill forted ribbons deck'd each maiden's cap, But thield them with your kind and foster

And cowslip-gardens every rustic hai. ing aid,


Who that has eyes to see, or heart to feel, Till they have gather'd strength t’abide those

Would change this simple wrea'h which That nip life's opening bud ; elle ye pert:pS Ev'n for that golden circle which surrounds

Shepherds wear,
May find your hopes all blasted, ev’n as mine.
Ye much-lov'd Crocuses, while memory lasts

The temples of a King? Beneath thefe

fouers I'll hold se dear, for ftill thall ye recall My infant days; and, oh, how great's the bliss Sits blooming health and ever-smiling joy; To think on those! oft does this foul inhale

While that bright orb, which girds the MoThe sweet remembrance, till the strong per

narch's brus'',

Is but a crown of thorns to vex the foul fumc Tortures the sense : for say whate'er ye will,

Of him wlowers it.-Happiness, tipu good, And call to memory departed joys,

Which all men pant for, and which few pora

sess, 'Tis but a painful pleasure : in themselves Our purest joys are intermix'd with cares ;

Thou art not found in palaces of Kings: But, in the recollection of those joys,

If thou hast place on earth, 'tissure thoubidest The fordid dregs of intermingling care

Midlt cots and villages and rur..I fcenes.

Let fools with ardor in that clare punfire, Sink to the ground, while all the bliss, sublim'd,

Whole game is empire, and whole pleasure, Is essence pure, too pungent to be borne.

pain !

Mine be the lot to stray thro'nature's walks, TO THE COW SLIP.

But not in Gardens, where man's barbarous

1kill OWSLIP, of all belov'd, of all adnir'd, Has starch'd thote loofer folds I've oft admir'd Thee let me sing, the homely Shep- In vature's robe, and turnd to lifelets forin herd's pride ;

Such artlessness, fuch elegance, such ease] Fit emblem of the maid I love, a form Give me to wander in the spacious fields, Gladdening the right of man, a sweet perfume Or 'long the margin of mcangiring stream, Sending its balmy fragrance to the soul. Or down the vale, or up yon steep hill's fielen Daughter of Spring, and Messenger of May, Where thousand Cowlips coser ti theground Which thall I firk declare, w hicli mest extol, In wide luxuriance. There within a copic, Tliy sovereign heauties, or thy sovereign use? Far from the search of every eye but inine, With thee the rural dame adraught prepues, I've mark it one tail and flately v'erthe rett, A nectarons draught, more luscious to my taite In whole fair semblance Min's majestic Than all thy boasted trash, vine-nurturing

mien France.

Vieal with the fuftness of a Virgin's grace. Maidens withinee their auburn treffes braid, Thus in some village lonc, inidfitiees obfcule, Or, with the Daily, and the Primrose pale, Far from the notice of the busy world, Thy flowers entivini:g weave a Chaplet fair, I've spion fome maiden of more princely To grace that pole, rotind which the village

tread, train

Of thape mure linc, more elegantly turnil, Lead on their dance, logreet the jocund May; Of manners tweeter, and of hue more freth, Jocuud Il call it, for it lends a mile Thane'er was seen al modern Rou:sor Drun, To thee, who never fimilift but once a year. In ancieot Pason's hall, os courts of Kings. A methçe noi, '3's Ji, inpatie d'is clcting

P. H.



TO THE VIOLET. But ah! how smooth the dulcet numbers flow,
ND Thall the Muse to thee her praise what fancied transports in my bosom glow,

Oft as on Lycid waits my fond defire ! cieny, Thou beft, tho'most diminutive of flowers;

Whene'erto Lovel wake the warbling lyre! For where can Nature thro' her wide domain

T. L. Prait other odour's haif fo fweet as thine ? What th:111 Sophy scorn,'causeSophy's small?

Λ Τ Η Ε Ν Ι Α, Though all the be, is the not still a gem,

An ELEGY, oh ibe late J. STUART, Eja. "Ilid worlds of matly go'd could never buy? Toit(0, ye livlets, inight I ever wear, A

THENIA dead! I hear it with dismay,

Nor can withhold the tributary tear ; L'n as I wear my Sophy in my he:rt! Tho' the strip'd tulip, and the bushing role, The, to enhance the subject of my lay,

These feeble numbers would but ill appear. The po anthus broad with golden eye, The full carnation and the lily tall,

For he, by elegance of taste refin', [fame; Displv their beauties on the gay parterre Long tince had won the* ample meed of In costly gardens, where tl'unlicens'd feet Long lince a wreath by Attic shades entwin'd Of Railics tread not; yet that lavish hand, The claific labours of his page could claim.' Which feasiters violets under every thorn, Forbids that ficets like there should be con His hand anew had rais'd each tuneful bower, fin'e

That once each varied cadence could inWithin the limits of the rich man's wall.

fpire, So fore it in the world : albeit we see Stay'd the career of time, relentless power! Some gew gawsuhich the great alone potress, Too itern to fosten to the Grecian lyre. Whate'er is folid good is free to all. Let grandeur keep its own: this fragrant Hence, from his theme, poetic beams may


(prolong, flower

And many a dome and sculptur'd porch Was kindly given by nature to regale

While hands unseen on fancy's ground may The weried ploughmul, as he home returns

The lucid embryos of future song. (thed Arduik of evening to that dear abode Where all his comfort, all his treasure's lodg’d, And History too may her fair lanp illume, Yomg rofy cherubs, and a limiling wife. That leads her vot'ries by a foberer light, If he may profit there, he'll jewels call Her bright rays, tracking pro' oblivion's Those big round drops that stand upon his


[might: brov,

May long withstand the ruling crescent's The badges of his labour, and his love. [rive, But nearer views this plaintive song concern, Thethought that therefrom him their good de

For fame ne'er made Athenia proud or Aud that that good hangs on his single arm,

vain, Tui'ns toil to luxury, to pleasure pain.


Not with contempt the unletter'd Muse he'd 'Tis this that cools the Suu's meridian bluze,

But deign'd to listen to its humble strain ; Bears up his heari, l'e-lraces every nerve, Andiends freth vigour to his fainting soul.

And to reward the Bard, to him unknown; How for more blett is industry like this, In candid guise his honor'd name allow'd* Than Ichemes of statesmen, who for private Nor thought beneath distinguith'd worth 10

ends Wouk plange their country in a gulf of woes! A fame aspiring from plebeian croud. And know, ye great, howe'er ye may serpile

But here, alas! is clos'd each hopeful view, The rustic's labour', 'tis to that we owe

That credit thence might to the Mule im* A nation's happiness, a kingdom's wealth, Wisdom in countel, terror in our arms,

part ;'

Yes, tyrant fell, each infant wish you New, At home security, and fime abroal. P. H.

When kind Atlienia felt thy mortal darte THE FOURTH IDYLLIUM OF BION. Anil now, behold within the hallow'd aille THE Sures dread not Cupid's cruel dart,

The mute procession fix the fable bier, Bat forsetiv allihis wand'ring steps pursue; May hope elated on thy reliques smile, If you'd cvenitelves by him oflovelets heart,

And contemplation love to linger here ! With cold disgust they (bun his hated view. Am'ranths and laurels on their shrines be laid, But, is by one whom softer paisions move, To whom the grateful talk by heaven's Whübreithes his captures on the tuneful oat,

atlign'd, How close they throng to bearthet, le of love, By grateful toil to yield each social aid, With greetiy ears to catch each pleasing Refine, exalt, or harmonize mankind. note !

W.HAMIL TON REID, 'Tis I can witness true whate'er be sings :

For when to weber: I would raise my 1ł rain, * The Author's subscription, now on foot, Ecl. Basuing finger slumbers on the strings, was konou, ed with the name of the de. Wavíc fanlt'ring unils declare my efforts cealed. Fun



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Seleft Poetry, Antient and Modern, for March, 1788. 253 VERSE$ addressed to Miss C. P. Dock Yard, To upper realms-Oh, to this lay of mine, Plymouth.

Would but thy fong some happy fire infusel

Then might I at thy flower-inwoven shrine WHILE lofty Bards great deeds re Offer a garland of no sordid hues.

And try with wondrous lays to move; A N Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η. Trembling, I court in humble verse,

O! where a mother seeks repose, And fain would draw the maid I love.

And close by her dear infants lies, What tho' but half her face be seen, Waiting the hour that Thall disclose Half veil'd within her flowing hair,

Them once more to her ravith'd eyes. Know that that half behind the screen Wretchel, in all youth's gaudy bloom,

Muft, with its counter-part, be fair. She saw those little babes expire ; Her eyes too, tho' thus hid from fight,

Then quick pursued them to the tomb, Like moon-beams by the fleecy clouds,

Dear objects of her soul's desire. Dart, like the golden orbs of night,

Bereav'd, sweet innocents, of you, When the those lovely eyes unthrouds. How low she droop'd !--how soon she dy'd!

Was e'er maternai love more true, 'Tis then her face begins to bloom,

Or more, alas ! severely try'd ?
That bloom the rival of the rose,
Tis then that all her charms illume,

Hence let the tributary tear,

Stream from each eye that reads this verse : And Vemus every grace bestows.

And oh! ye tender mothers, here Her pearly teeth in coral set,

In sighs your fympathy rehearse. Like magnets, have the power to draw, Efex, Halfted.

RELATIVE. If once within that power we get, Follow we must magnetic law.

EPITAPH ON BEAUTIFUL CHILD, Yet tho’the maid, to Virtue true,

NAMED ROSE, WHO DIED YOUNG. Vice in each winning Tape can scorn,

FRE lies 3 Rose, a budding Role,
New to the world, to love yet new,
Not for herself alone is born,

Whose innocence did sweets disclose,

Beyond that flower's perfume. When raptur'd youths with wonder gaze,

To those who for her lofs are griev'd ". The looks, the dancè, conspire to move,

This confolation's given, The fluttering spirits in amaze

She's from a world of woe reliev'd, The potent power of beauty prove;

And blooms a Rose in Heaven. R.R.E. Or if her fingers touch the lyre,

In motion are ten thousand strings, Immitation of Vesses written by MARI' QUEEN The chrobbing heart is all on fire,

of Scots, on the Diath of vir Hulaine's : Fann'd by the husy Cupid's wings.

Francis 11. * King of France, 1561. Forgive, dear girl, this vent'rous deed,

HAT was mypleasure's powiny grief, A hapless baril, not yet sixteen,

My day obicr'd is black as night, Who, piping on an artless reed.

What's nice or rarefrings ro relief, [delig!it. Would in your captive train be seen.

Not e'en to raite a wuh, vain symbol of Love led ev'n Jove himself astray :

I drag my load from place to place,

Oft-times the defart hides my woe,
If jove iuimielf could feel the smart,
Well may an arrow find its way,

Vain all exertions, to effice (forrow's flow,

That ftrange dire cause, whence all my To pierce your young admirer's heart.

C. P. From fun-rise o'er the law is and woods,

Till Vesper's imuky gloom I Itray, SONNET TO MR. POLWHELE. My heavy heart unce:fing bodes, Coreaway!

How happy might I be, but that there's OLWHELE, with whose sweet lay I

To heav'n I look in my despair,
many, an hour,

Some cloudi allumes his lovely eyes,
Ah! many a dreary hour, have oft beguile!, When faddenly diffolv'd in air,
Sure Fancy mark'd thee for her darling child,

(his prize. And twin'd a wreath ofevry lovely flow'r,

I rectheirzhaftly hue, as when deathitruck To erown thy infant brow—else whence My wearied sense resign'd to rest, that pow'r

His charming voice flutes mine car, Of magic that attunes thy wood-notes will ?

His touch with rapture fills my breast, [ncar. For whether thou dost breathe fome sweet Perception never Neeps, bis form is always strain mild,

No more let grief my song inspire, My sense is wrap'dl in soft elysian bower : Yet this my dolefuil sorrows teach; Or, if the lyre with rapid hand divine,

" Where true love fed a mutual furu, Thou sweey'rt, I'm burried with thy lofty

« There's nought can cafe the heart, when Muute

death has made a bieach." CANDIDE. * No: Francis l. as mentioned, p. 63.

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