1

40

Her gentle breaft no angry paffion fires,
But flighted vows poffefs, and fainting foft defires.

She yet retains her wonted flame,

All-but in reafon, ftill the fame.-
Streaming eyes,

Inceffant fighs,

45

Dim haggard looks, and clouded o'er with care,
Point out to Pity's tears, the poor distracted fair.
Dead to the world-her fondeft wishes croft,

She mourns herself thus early loft.—

Now, fadly gay, of forrows paft she fings,
Now, penfive, ruminates unutterable things.
She starts-fhe flies-who dares fo rude
On her fequefter'd fteps intrude ?-

'Tis he-the Momus of the flighty train-
Merry mischief fills his brain.
Blanket-robed, and antick crown'd
The mimick monarch skips around;

55

Big with conceit of dignity he fmiles, And plots his frolicks quaint, and unsuspected wiles.

Laughter was there-but mark that groan, 90
Drawn from the inmost foul!

"Give the knife, Demons, or the poisoned bowl,
To finish miseries equal to your own.”-

Who's this wretch, with horror wild?

'Tis Devotion's ruin'd child.

Sunk in the emphasis of grief,

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Nor can he feel, nor dares he ask relief.

Thou, fair Religion, wast design'd,

Duteous daughter of the skies,

To warm and chear the human mind,
To make men happy, good and wife,
To point, where fits in love arrayed,
Attentive to each fuppliant call,
The God of univerfal aid,

The God, the Father of us all.

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75

First shewn by thee, thus glow'd the gracious scene, 'Till Superftition, fiend of woe,

Bad Doubts to rife, and Tears to flow,

And fpread deep fhades our view and heaven between.

Drawn by her pencil the Creator ftands, 80
(His beams of mercy thrown afide)
With thunder arming his uplifted hands,

And hurling vengeance wide.

Hope, at the frown aghaft, yet ling'ring, flies,

And dafh'd on Terror's rocks, Faith's beft depen

dence lies.

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But ah!-too thick they croud,-too close they

throng,

Objects of pity and affright!-
!-

Spare farther the descriptive song

Nature shudders at the fight.—

Protract not, curious ears, the mournful tale, 90

But o'er the hapless groupe low drop Compaffion's veil.

ELINOURE AND JUGA.

BY THOMAS CHATTERTON.

I

ONNE Ruddeborne bank twa pynynge may

dens fate,

Theire teares faste dryppeynge to the waterre cleere ;

Echone bementynge2 for her absente mate, Who atte Seynête Albonns fhouke the morthynge3

speare.

The nottebrowne Ellynor to Juga fayre 5 Dydde fpeke acroole, wyth languyshment of

eyne,

Lyke droppes of pearlie dew, lemed the quyvrynge 3

brine.

* Born 1752; dyed 1770. These poems, with many others, the author pretended to have been written by Thomas Rowley, an imaginary priest of Bristol, in the 15th century: an impofition of which fome of the best judges of old English poetry were at firft the dupes, and which feveral writers of eminence have been found weak enough to support.

Rudborn, (in Saxon, Red-water) a river near Saint Albans, famous for the battles there fought between the houses of Lancaster and York. 2 lamenting, 3 murdering. faintly, gliftened.

5

ELINOURE.

O gentle Juga! heare mie dernie plainte,
To fyghte for Yorke mie love is dyght' in stele;
O mai ne fanguen fteine the whyte rose peynête,
Maie good feynote Cuthberte watche fyrre
Robynne wele.

Moke moe thanne deathe in phantafie I feelle; See! fee! upon the grounde he bleedynge lies; Inhild fome joice of life, or elfe mie deare love dies.

JUGA.

Syfters in forrowe, on thys daife-ey'd banke, 15 Where melancholych broods, we wylle lamente; Be wette with mornynge dewe and evene danke; Lyche levynde 10 okes in echo the oder bente, Or lyke forlettenn " halles of merriemente, Whofe gaftlie mitches 1 holde the traine of fryghte 13,

Where lethale ravens bark, and owlets wake the

fad complaint. 7 arrayed, or cafed. infuse. 9 juice. blafted. 11 fo faken. 12 ruins. 13 fear. 14 deadly or

deathboding. a 15 fmall bagpipe.