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Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray,
And fiercely shed intolerable day ;
Those matted woods where birds forget to sing,
But filent bats in drowsy clusters cling ; 350
Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned,
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 355
And savage men, more murderous still than they ;
While oft in whirls the mad tornado fies,
Mingling the ravaged landschape with the skies.
Far different these from every former scene,
The cooling brook, the grassy veited green, 360
The breezy covert of the warbling grove,
That only sheltered thefts of harmiess love.
Good heaven! what forrows gloom'd that part-

ing day,
That called them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 365
Hung round their bowers, and fondly looked their

last,
And took a long farewell, and wished in vain
For seats like these beyond the western main;
And shuddering still to face the diftant deep,
Returned and

wept,

and still returned to weep. 370 The good old fire, the first prepared to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others woe ; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave.

His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 375
The fond companion of his helpless years,
Silent went next, negleâful of her charms,
And left a lover's for a father's arms.
With Icuder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And bleit the cot where every pleasure rose; 380
And kist her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And claspt them close, in forrow doubly dear;
Whilft her fond husband strove to lend relief
In all the filent manliness of grief.

O luxury! Thou curs by heaven's decree, 385
How ill exchanged are things like these for theu !
How do thy potions, with insidious joy,
Dirufe their pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms, by thee, to fickly greatness grown,
Beast of a fiorid vigour not their own; 399
At every draught more large and large they groiv,
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe;
Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound,
Down, down they fink, and spread a ruin round.

Even now the devastation is begun, 395 And half the business of deitruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land : Down where yon anchoring veífel spreads the fail That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 400 Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.

Contented toil, and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness, are there ;
And piety, with wishes placed above, 405
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;
Unfit in these degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honeft fame ; 410
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,
My Mame in crowds, my folitary pride.
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so ;
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 415
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well.
Farewell, and I where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 420
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement clime;
Aid frighted truth with thy persuasive strain,
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strength posleft, 425
Tho' very poor, may still be very bleft;
That trade's proud empire haftes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away ;
While self-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky, 430

A B A L L A D.

BY THE SAME.

Turn, gentle hermit of the dale,

“ And guide my lonely way,
To where yori taper cheers the vale,

“ With hospitable ray:

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do For here forlorn and loft I tread,

« With fainting steps and flow;
• Where wilds, immeasurably spread,

“ Seem lengthening as I go.”

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Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,

“ To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies

“ To lure thee to thy doom.

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ftill ;

“ Here to the houseless child of want
My door is

open
óc And tho' my portion is but fcant,

“ I give it with good will.

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* The original idea of this elegant poem was suggested by a beautiful old ballad, printed in the Reliques of ancient Englifo poetry," volume the second, VOL. II.

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“ Then turn to-night, and freely share " Whate'er

my

cell bestows; “ My rushy couch, and frugal fare,

My blessing and repose.

20

« No flocks that range the valley free

“ To slaughter I condemn : Taught by that power that pities me,

I learn to pity them.

25

« But from the mountain's graffy side

“ A guiltless feast I bring ; « A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,

“ And water from the spring.

30

« Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

« All earth-born cares are wrong: “ Man wants but little here below,

“ Nor wants that little long."

Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,

His gentle accents fell :
The modeft stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

35

Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely manfion lay;
A refuge to the neighbouring poor,

And strangers led aftray.

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