DEDICATION.

I MAY venture with the greater confidence to solicit your Grace's acceptance of this Dedication, as the only motiye which urges me to present it will whole

necessarily transfer the whole of your attention from myself to an object of the nearest and most natural

concern.

The composition, which is honoured by so flattering an introduction to the public, can advance no stronger title to that distinction, than that it bears testimony to the merits of a beloved and lamented son.

The affection which I bore, in common with all his cotemporaries, to the regretted author of the Original, first induced me to offer this tribute to his memory.

Nowhere could it be dedicated with greater propriety than to a Parent whose early instruction and example were, under Providence, the chief source of the many virtues and amiable qualities which conciliated and secured that affection.

By authorizing me to annex the Original Poem, your Grace has supplied the only just criterion by which the comparative merits and defects of the English imitation can be appreciated, and at the same time materially advanced the value of my publication, not only by the benefit of so important an accession, but also by the opportunity which it has afforded me of acknowledging the obligation thus conferred on,

Your Grace's

Most respectful and obedient

Humble Servant,

E. B. IMPEY.

OUR NATIVE SOIL.

Vattene in pace alma beata e bella

Così i miei versi avessin forza, come
Ben m'affaticherei con tutta quella
Arte che tanto il parlarorna e come,
Perche mille e mill' anni, e pia novella
Sentisse il mondo del tuo chiaro nome:
-Vattene in pace à la suporna sede.

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parlar orna pie

WHENCE the fond Passion, whose endearing band

Links in each clime the native to the land,
What secret impulse bids his bosom burn

To guard with arms, with science to adorn,
With wit to polish, cultivate with toil,
And live or die devoted to the soil,

I sing. The source and glory of the song,
Lamented Vernon, to thy shade belong;

'Tis mine in homelier numbers to attire

Thy thoughts, and strive to emulate their fire:
Too soon, alas! ere it had reach'd it's blaze,
Quench'd was that fire, and wither'd were thy bays;
Or ere thy weeping country yet could feel

Half thy dear loss, unaided by thy zeal,

Which else had realiz'd that generous rage

Whose pledge survives recorded on thy page :
Fate grudg'd the rest.-Peace to thine honour'd urn!
Thou to thy task, reluctant Muse, return.

First of this Truth, howe'er Enthusiasts deem,
Be warn'd (and Proofs shall certify the theme)
That of her sons whate'er a Nation claims

Of love that melts, of interest that inflames,
Of pride that stimulates, from Heav'n acquires
No inborn heat, no preternatural fires;

For what in Man instinctive force we call,

Is one gross principle diffus'd thro' all.