Her gentle breast no angry passion fires, 40 But flighted vows poffefs, and fainting soft desires.

She yet retains her wonted flame,
All—but in reason, 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 fondest wishes croft,

She mourns herself thus early loft.

Now, sadly gay, of sorrows past she sings,
Now, pensive, ruminates unutterable things.

She starts-she fies—who dares so rude
On her fequefter'd steps intrude?

'Tis he-the Momus of the flighty train Merry mischief fills his brain.

55 Blanket-robed, and antick crown'd The mimick monarch kips around ;

Big with conceit of dignity he smiles, And plots his frolicks quaint, and unsuspected


Laughter was there--but mark that groan, 90

Drawn from the inmoft 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,
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 suppliant call,
The God of universal aid,
The God, the Father of us all.


First sewn by thee, thus glow'd the gracious scene,

'Till Superstition, fiend of woe,

Bad Doubts to rise, and Tears to flow, And spread deep shades our viewand heaven between.

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

And hurling vengeance wide.
Hope, at the frown aghast, yet ling'ring, flies,
And dash'd on Terror's rocks, Faith's best depen-
dence lies.


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

Objects of pity and affright!

Spare farther the descriptive fong

Nature shudders at the fight.

Protract not, curious ears, the mournful tale, 90 But o'er the hapless groupe low drop Compassion's ELINOURE AND JUGA.






Onne Ruddeborne' bank twa pynynge may

dens fate, Theire teares faste dryppeynge to the waterre

cleere; Echone bementynge for her absente mate, Who atte Seyncte Albonns shouke the morthynges

speare. The nottebrowne Ellynor to Juga fayre 5 Dydde speke acroole +, wyth languyshment of

eyne, Lyke droppes of pearlie dew, lemeds the quyvrynge


* 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 some of the bef judges of old Englis poetry were at first the dupes, and which several writers of emis nence 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 Lancaiter and York. lamenting, 3 murdering, • faintly. glifened.

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O gentle Juga! heare mie dernie o plainte,
To fyghte for Yorke mie love is dyght' in stele;
O mai ne sanguen steine the whyte rose peyncte,
Maie good feynete Cuthberte watche fyrre

Robynne wele.
Moke moe thanne deathe in phantasie I feelle ;

See! fee! upon the grounde he bleedynge lies;
Inhild some joice of life, or else mie deare love dies.

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

Vhere lethale 14 ravens bark, and owlets wake the


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[ ILINOUR E. ] No mo the milkynette's shall wake the morne, The minftrelle daunce, good cheere, and morryce


* fad complaint. 7 arrayed, or cased. 8 infuse. 9 juice. * blalted. 11 fois akon. 12 ruins. 13 fear. 14 deadly or de abboding. a is finall bagpipe.

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