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i«ai*Goog[c

« THE ViSIOK OP VANITY.

She Bpoke; my bosom felt the ma^c sound. My active spirits danced a nimbler round. Propitious power!—I preyed, or meuit a prayer; Her light form faded in the empty air. Yet these she left, and bade to you belong: I offo her power, if you approve the song.

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INTRODUCTION

THE FATAL SISTERS,

AN ODBj BY MB GEAY.

This Introduction was written at the desire of a friend, who observed, that the description of the appearance of those divinities (whose song Mr Gray has given iu the above-mentioned Ode,) was very susceptible of sublime and terrible images. The supposed place of their appearance was impressed on my imagination, from having visited it not long before these ■tapMB nreiie written.

iWAS in £jrin^ fatal day.

Led by Woden's secret band.

Where the danciag waves of Mey*

Speed the current to the land.

• Tbe name of a place on the northcni coait of CsithiiHi, opposite to OiktKf. Tbe epithet of danciiig, applied to tbe i«ai*Goog[c

Red his eye, that watched the book. Sealed with many a hero's blood.

With bristling locks, aod haggard look. The hoary prophet gazed the flood.

The biting north wind brushed the tide And drove the bickering hail before ;

Shrill the angry mermaid cried. Amidst the bursting billows' roar.

From Stroma's black and ragged brow. Hark to the raven's boding note!

While, 'midst the heaving waves below. The shattered masts of shipwreck float

Big the cloud, on Thules' height, Sailed atliwart the dusky sky.

And, BwelliBg to the distant sight. Far its wreaths were secQ to lie.

wavM, nill seem more proper, wben it i> knotni, tbat by the meeting of certain curreatb, tbey are tbrown up on tbat sbore, In a peipeodicalar direction i end are there termed, troa tbeJT

appearance, or height perhaps, " The Men of Mey."

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TO THE FATAL SISTERS.

Where the stifled tempests pant, A hollow sound the cavema gsve.

And forky Ughtbiogs shot aslant The glittering tresses of the wave.

Lo! the muttering thunder rolled^ A meteor's steeamy sign was given!

Purple lids, attiaged with gold, Op'd the azure-eye of beareo I How, from oat the darker side. Louder thunders strike his ear; Now, from cot the beamy void, Lo! the giant maids appear !—

" Tatal Sisters! speed your way. Give your foamy coursers rein; Pass the dancing waves of Mey, Pass the murmur of the main.

" See the leader of the band. Dreaded Hilda! where she past; See the Uumpet in her baud! Hark! she poors the rattling blast VOL. Till. ■

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" Fell Revenge and Fnry spread Their boniing pinions o'er lier brow; Her eyes, that panic-terrors shed^ Fiercely shoot a crimson glow,

" Iloaad> in mazy circlets, scream The fomished birdsj that watch the dead.

See a fading spectre gleam! Sygnrd * droops hi« fated head.

" Where to neet the pebbly shore Leans the velret-verdnred hill.

Darts the spear die mmden bore. Mandate of the maiden's will:

" Lo! it Ughtned, as it flew!

Quivering now od earth it stands. Now agaia the blast she blew; Echoing shook a thousand lands!

• Sjfgnrd.BBriofOTfcoer, killed Id SB expedition to iKhod. rjib Note*

OD Mr On;'* Fomd.

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TO THE FATAL SISTERS. (

" Labouring with ite fateAiI birA, Heaved the hill od ever; tide: Lo I the portals of the earth, Barsting, yawned ao entrance wide!

" See the loom is ready laid, ' O'er it see the nsters bent; Seats, that bear each wondroos maid, Each the rock an earthquake rent

" Hark! beneath the trembling ground, (From Hela's * dark domain it rose,)

Deeply pealed a solemn sonnd!— Hark! for Hilda catched the close!"—

' Onis,' she cried, and waved her hand, * Ours, to join the magic throng;

Sisten! soch our queen's command. Ours to swell the ma^c song.

' Now the storm begins to low'r,' fScc. (as in Mr Gray's Ode

• Hdo, In (be Gothic mjtbolAsj, U the ptUtm of DeaO.

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PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS.

' msCRIBfiD TO A FBIBND.

Yes, by the phrase of schoolmen nnconfinedi To trace some striking features of the miad; Some wanderiog lines, that mark the rising thought. Ne'er in the depths of tangled study Bought^ These may be mine; below the critic's view To sport with verse, and trust for praise to job.

O'er every beating heart confessed to reign. Pursued by all, by all pursued in vain, The sage's secret, and the poet's dream. Be the wide wish of happiitess my theme.

Come, then, and let us lecture by the hour On these great subjects, Wisdom, Wealth, a/id Power,

ri'::i:.Cc)(>t^lC'

The boasted source of every bliss denj, And shew their empty nms, their fountains dry. Alas! from me no learned lectures hope, A simple rhymester^—look for these in Pope. I boast no tnagic verse, no matchless mind. That deep in science leaves the crowd behind. To

•*•*•• leave tt system's pert pretence. Nor, where I cannot fathom, take offence; Some passing figares <MiIy dare to shotf. And give the Mnse's comment as they go.

All, said the Dane,-f have business and desires; AH human kind this touch Promethean fires. By every rank, by every Lemper sought.

Something to be, and something to be thought: This on the many's changing will depends. That on our own, uncertain of its ends; To that our tastes affix no certain name. This roves through all the lengthened scale of fame. Tis Vapid's bow, his minuet, his walk. His smiles, that simmer into gentle talk. Fashion in youth, and decency in age; With prudes 'tis honour, prayer-book, and page.

Some fleetmg hope we start, pursue, and miss; Then rouse another, and pronounce it bliss-.

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Yet may not spleen the Bovereign will amugn. Yet may not spleea believe we run in tud< Tis the pursuit rewards the active mind, And what in rest we seek, in toil we find.

The friend of Pytrbus bade bim feast and live. Possessed of all the finished war could give< Vain were his banquets, had not Pyrthos fongbt; The chace, and not the quarry, Pyrrhus sought.

'Midst all the sweets of Tempe's roseate vale. Where eveiy fragrance breathes on every gale, Tbe fabled pleasures of Elysian bowers. The nectar quaffed on beds of blushing flowers. Give all to sense, that sense coald wi^ to prove. And give immortal, as the joys of Jove, The soul would sicken 'mid the stagnate air. And wish the ruffian blasts of human care. Where passive sense, with all her powers, would miss. The springs of action move the wheels of bliss. Hence, bustling natures, in a wayward state. And thrown at random on the coil of fate. Staunch to each purpose, still unwearied press Where dark misfortuoe low'rs, or beams success. Teach every curse the happiness it brings. And reap the vintage 'midst the nild of things; i«ai*Goog[c

Hence Balbas tiinmphs o'er the ills of life. With duns, bad debtors, lav-suits, and a wife.

Hence vain tlie rule that moral coldness giree^ And bids Lothario live as Probas lives. " I sit," says Probus, " on the peaceful shore. And hear the billons round me idly roar; I hear uomovcd. Within my humble cell The blissful powers of calm contentment dwell. Soft as the sleep of babes my passions lie."-^ Lothario yawna, and Probus nronders why— Lothario, swelling with a soul of fire. Winged with the lighbiing wish, the fierce desire. " Contentment, peace, the bhssful scenes of ease! The hell your fancies paint were heaven to these."

If certain bounds the impulsive ardour kept^ Nor maddened joy, nor melancholy wept. But where, amid the intricate of fate. Our reason

gave to love, a&d gave to hate; Were the true blissful always understood. And sought aloue amidst the wise and good. Sunk in the calm would Virtue's labour cease. And lose her triumphs in the lap of peace; The pulse of active Ufe wonld cease to beat. No wish to ^tate, no hope to beat. Unnerved each effort, every power unbent. Lolled in oas listless apathy. Content.

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Men must have passions; point them, if yon can^ Where less the brute enjoys, and more the man. To combat passion when our reasons rise. Reasons are better passions in disguise. In every climate, and in every age. With poetj priest, philosopher, and sage; Let pedant preachers smooth it as they will. They preach successful to the passions still; Direct the wish to rise, the tear to fall. Give fear to some, and vanity to all.

The world's dull reason, sober, cool, and pww> The world's dull reason is a knave demure. See, fresh from Nature's hand, unfettered youth Romantic friendship boast, romantic truth; With all the mist of fond delusion blind. The venial errors of an honest mind. High beat their hearts with every generons aipi. And grasp the golden hope of endless fame: Majestic visions, forms of transport wild.

Where bloomed the arts, or hardy valour toiled. Rise from the pictured walks of Greece or Rome, Rise from the past, and point the time to come. But soon, too soon, the airy fabrics fall, And servile Reason lacqueys Interest's call; Now Caution creeps where Virtue stalked before. And cons the battered page of Pnidence o'er.

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Get wealth, the bell of every idiot chimesj Immoderate wealth, the madness of the times; Get wealth abroad> beneath the furthest sky.

Or cheat at home, game, perjure, favin, and lie. See, at the goal, to tempt the kindling race^ See Stukely's laurels blooming in thy face I Stakely, whose youth the weaiiaesa was denied To hide (he villdn, or desire to hide; (Though in his face, at times, the fiend within Half veils his portrait with a bastard grin,) Plays with my Lord, is favoured by her Grace, Now grasps a title, and obtains a place. Drinks precious

burgundy, is served in plate. And winds their schemes with ministers of state} Nay, shame to virtue in a woman's shape! Aspasia is his wife

—without a. rape,—

AU this is owned; but prudent men are glad To take mankind as mankind may be had: Stukely has parts; has gained, from nothing, clear (Or fame has hed) eight thousand pounds a year, " His virtue!"

cries a sage," my good young man. Leave rhyming, and get money, if you can ; For Stukely's worth and yours, the world will scan 'em, Tnut me ^ey will, at just so much per annum."

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Ilie blnablesa sods of theee degenerate days. Not virtue scorn alone, but virtue's praise-Yet not the suSrsge of the world bestows The bliss our vices chase, our virtue knows; The glare, that blazes in a public shov. The courtier's whisper, and the great man's bow; To dance with princes, and to dine with lords. These are the joys their envied lot affords. Yet they, whom gaping crowds with envy see. Have years to seem, but scarce an hour to be; Set, like some bauble gayly trimmed, on high. Their hfe, their Aiendship, aiid their love, a lie.

If e'er redection renders up its trust, The vapid medley rises in disgust. Without the sparkle, and the gold, remain The Bpaikling poiton, and the gilded chain; And memory gathers, with unwearied wing, But thoughts that torture, and but joys that sting.

But far mote solid joys may wealth produce. With those who spend it not for show, but use; Its decent sober sons, who calmly taste What riches give, without intemperate waste> Thus honest Balaam—yes, the title's meet. No rich man is a rogue in Lombard-street—--" What!

honest } be, whom orphan minoTB curse. Robbed of their rights to pamper Balaam's purse;

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THE PURSUITS OF HA^PINBBS. t»

A suit in clisQC«ry shall set ;ou right"—

A knave! I scorn the word—the man's a knight; His hoDour's proof I draw from high records.

True, as bis turtle, iu the mouth of lords.

" To lords a bubble, and to wits a sport, A man of moment (as he says) at court"—

" There, while I breathed a prayer for Britain's good. The best of princes marked me where I stood. My absence from the last day's levee chid. And asked. How Lady Balaam's toothacb did ?' Our friends may Jail us, and onr fortunes fall, Self-coDsequence alone is true to all: Search where you will, die dullest herd explore. Where muddy nature seems to roll no more. Who calmly bear, in business' hackneyed ways, The ItstlesH habitude of passive days. Who breathe an air, that feels no active spring, Unfanned by Fancy's ever-vivid wing, Gniltless of thought, who creep their round of time, Lik« some old orloge, with one drowsy chime.

And 'mongst their whiter notes of memory keep One better dinner, and one sounder sleep,— Yet there has pride its little objects too, The wig best powdered, or the blackest shoe;

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T» , THE PURSUITS Or HAPPINESS.

Hence chandler Gripe his Wife's shrill tongue be-

. labours. For Suke/s flounce isnarrower than her neighbout's; Hence Pastry Figg, who claims superior paits. Steals half the paper-bottom from his tarts. And dares the boldest of his Friday's club With doubts deistical from Father Chubb.

To self-conceit the meanest knowledge swells j Of Lielio's motions Lfclio's butler tells> The last supply can figure to a sous. And counts the patriot noses of the house.

Proud of bis post his Grace's footman see. As pert, as wicked, and as drunk, as he. With shoes as shining, with as broad a lace. With all his idiot saaciness of face.

The boy, whose bawling merit boasts to sweep The greasy crossings of the ward of Cheap, Who scrapes for farthings plump Sir Pipkin's door. For trade and freedom swells the city roar-Through all her ranks the law's importance runs. And Mansfield's words are mouthed by scrivener sons.

With eyes that keep one vacant point in view. Like pap the sun bad bleached and hardened too. That took some odd fantastic form by chance, Hee milky Lamio, mute and grave advance:

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O'er locks that nature gave, but Bolemn lair^ A foe to nature, with aversion saw, A needless peruke's niowy rooiid is thrown. And blanks his face with foUy not its own. His words, in one Ung even tone that drawl. When drowsy Dulneas yawns her opiate call. Let Pity suffer (for she can no more) To mark the weather, or to coant tl^e hour; But should the youth, amid the circling pit, Decide on Shakespeare, and pronounce on wi^ We laugh in scorn—yet Lamio still is blessed; He thinks, poor soul I the rogues have found bis jest Some few there are, who by impartial rules Half find the secret that tbemselvet are fools, Who, never deep in thought, nor mazed in doubt. Can laugh at wisdom, and are blessed without; Who beat, unmoved, the beaten track, to find Each grosser sense, that mocks the reasonUtg mind; Hunt in a squire* an alderman regale. Or swill, a parson, politics, and ale. Others by Dulpesa' brisker efforU made, (For there are fools of feather, as of lead) Are home by pride beyond their native fence.

And cheat mankind, the hypocrites of sense.

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The soft, the delicate Favonius hear Jingling bis baables in my aching ear. So duDj sweet, so pert];* debonnair. Wit with a grin, and wisdom with a stare; Blessed youth! whose skin so white, whose talk so

smart. Wins every male, and every female, heart.

With tags of jests in Brown and Durfey fonnd. With pons that lie in ambush for a sound. With mottos from the wits of ancient days.

Stolen from the tops of magazine-essays. With painters' names at print-shops daily sought, With one poor epigram his tutor wrote, Favouins rose, and all the ladies know it, A wit, a scholar, connoisseur, and poet; Or, if these titles should not please his ear^

Give him his own—Favonius is a peer.*

" Friendship's the wine of life." I hold at least Folly the nuts and apples of the feast. That flippant folly, with the jaunty mien. At midnight balls in Florio's figure seen; Skilled in those littie arts that always please. With pertness fluttering cm the wings of ease,

* This ctmplet b ratored from tbe original copy.

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THE pusmnrs or HAranus. «

He weara a smile perpetual in his foce. And talks perpetual noAings with a grace ; Ofj wbeo his stars are hi a blessing fit. Plays with a fao, and stumbles upon wit,— StHnething by fops called wit, that foobmayfind^ No words describe, for no ideas bind; That, far from sense, with whim's exotics grew. That moch applaods itself, and laughs at yon.

Not Prisons thns; he boasts an honest heart. An open soul, that hates the name of art; With sense unpolished grating on his mind. He holds perpetual irar with hnman kind. Storms at a fop, is angiy at a foot. And bears good-nature just within a rale. Where ^rant Prisons scowls his reddening eye. Mirth wares his wing, and all the Copids fly: On him what joys of other names awiut. Blessed with a foe, and proud to purchase hate. Is this to truth, to wisdom this allied i All this is nature, or perhaps 'tis pride.

We seldom simply judge of good or ill By genuine laws, or nnperrerted will; The means of bliss witb yon, with me, or him. Are fixed by narrow codes of partial whim.

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U THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS.

But in one passion (sings the bard of nighty* Nor sings he false) all human hearts unite; If from their folds their motives you unbind.

Instinctive vanity rules all mankind.

A^d rules it love, my Florio } ask your Chloe, Your last year's channer, she perhaps may show ye; Her Florio once, her Florio to the heart Pierced, and transpierced, by Cupid's golden dart, With many a stolen sonnet to her praise, " And many a vrindow scratched with i But now your Chloe is so changed a creature. These sonnets are the falsest things in nature. By what sad chance are all her beauties lost?

She's quite as handsome—but no more a toast; Some newer beauty caught the public eye, And Florio took the faint—to gaze and die.

Alas! so tame our modern love is grown. That dying lovers die in rhyme alone; Harmless its fires, like playhouse lightnings, glarey And each impassioned votary's but a player.

When from the yoke of Afric's tawny son His half-unpeopled land the Spaniard won,

• YoilDf.

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When midst the Idnely cadtle't eeboing hallj The GiantrCuisses decked the ragged wall, Aod dark Enchantmentj Superstition's child; In midnight mazes walked the howling wild, Komance, wiUi all her fancy-fashioned creed. Saw heroes pine, and desperate lovers bleed.

Through circling yearn, the virgin flame confessed, Aud hlazing fiercest when by Fate repressed; The poisoned chalice, and the dagger bare. She taught the tender-bosomed nymph to dare. With magic hand untwined the threads she wovej And poured on virtue all the bliss of love.

But when, her canvas opening to the wind. Had Traffic wafted wealth from eiUter Ind, Attendant Luxury she wafted too, KeCnement flourished, and Politeness grew; Then Love was listed in her mimic train. And Fashion's lip bis ardours taught to feign ] Debauched hy art, he lost his genuine power> And idly frolicked midat the vacant hour.

*' Tis woman's fault," the surly Priscns says, Degenerate woman in these waning days; True to no worth; in female bosoms reign, DesjHte of love, the fickle and the vain j

VOL. Till. r

i«ai*Goog[c

M THE PURSUITS OP HAPPINESS.

Still idly Boaring, with untaught d««re. Squire yields to lord, and merit to a iquirc."

Tis thtir ambition; lordi ve noUe gane. And mighty minds at mighty qnarries aim: Thongb tyrant man wonld ftia monopolize The tbiret of gloiy aad of great emprize. Yet famala brMits the gensroai ardour ovn. Their iceptre beas^j and our hearts their throne.

Hei soul unbroken, and imqnenched iti fiame. See yonder reteran in the lista of fune; See, at the closing of some public ifaoir Canidia, jostling in its hiadmoH row: (Ti3 but Uie decent mdeoew of her atate. For simple ladles oome an hour too late,) Canidia, still in beauty's mcond prime. At sixty beads not to the hand of Time; Time can but draw bis wrinkles o'er her brow, Tim« cah but spread bes glossy locks with snow. These are no parts of her—that head-dress see. Triumphs in youtbfnl Immortality I Eternal bloom—is in the power of paint. And yet Canjdia's more than half a saint j Constant at church, for sometimes beaox arcl^ere. And thus, one fasting mom, she closed a prayer:-^ " And as for death, since die the yoimgeet mns^ And this fair frame be mouldered in the dust.

„C„„sle

TBS rvsMvm or BAPPiHtta m

Be all thew erron oF my youth forg;ireii.

And lei me ireat this Demturk-fiy* in heanal"

Bat TBpid bov, like fruit preserved bj art, Canidia's youth ia barmleu to my heart; But seek its power, its native empire seek. Where the blood dftnces in FlavUla's cheeky QlowB in her lip, her panting bcaom warms. And swalls rsdundaitt in a thoUsaod charms. Her winged Noughts, Jram torpid Feasdn fiown^ Flit In a samiy region of their own : Wisdom fo^cto to chide, when Wisdom spies The dear impradence sparkli^ in her eyes; Her eyes, that in their beamy courses roll Iiuzuriaat fceUngs^ aod a waste of sool: Yet wotild be speak, not rtMon's mnsty saw> Would give thy pleaaaie, not tby condnct, lawj For pleaaure*! self, too headlong io the chace, TtefiHa

«tifle> with a rade embrace; From life's gay bustle panting and diMi«ssed, And still more feverish in the li^ of retrt^ PursufM the bubble where it glanced before. The bontiRg bubble glaaces now no mi<^e; For know, Flavflta, though it sonod* bot ill, lluki «VeD in folly, seaia i» sometbing stiH.

* A («nic)dsr klnl of ktadilKB.

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B4 THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS.

But In what class Lemira will yon scan. Too grave for woman, and too weak for man; Too dull for whim; too simple mnch for senBe, Her's is the region of indifierence. One civil questiouj and one sober sti]e. One decent curtesy, and one settled imile { Discreetly cold, she never soars ahove. These ail her friendship, these are all her lore) And as for hate, to woman or to man-^ Her lip just pressing on her folded fan! With pulse unqnickened, with unreddened cheeks. This cold no-blias is all the bliss she seeks.

Close by her side, her withered lord the while With toothless viaage tries ab awkward smile; So on some moral tombstone sculptors place A death's-head grinning in a cherub's face. Him Folly tempted in

some weaker hour, (For long had Love been foiled, and lost his povet^ To covet, in the crazy wane of life. Imputed faoaoor from a beauteous wife. With the faint No^ which love interprets Yin The nymph had doomed another bnitor's blisa. When this Antonio, like the god of old, Came, saw, and conquered, in a shower of gotdt I^emira's prudent phlegm had Ume to see. That six in joi|iture fairly doubles three.

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THE PlTRStllTS OP HArPINESS. U

Some vcDial errors to the sex allow^ All these cue women:—Lucia, what art thou i Thee, gentlest, wisest, nature formed to move The wise to wonder, and the soft to love: With all the prodence coldett natures know^ The warmth that bids a seraph's bosom glow, Homihty to learn, with skill to ^ide, The blush of meekness, yet with virtue's pride; Mild with each grace, with reason's strength to soarj, Tby heart is woman's, but thy mind is more.

Yet ask the world, has Lucia ne'er a failing? And shall its railers burst for want of railing I Lucia, an angelt goddess, what you will,— Sighs for a title, and is woman still.

How start my feelings from desires like these! How swells my wonder that a sound shoukl please I With Uke surprise the world's gay sons would see Thin iancy charm, or musing sadness, me. How would they view me from their crowds reUre, To feast on thought beside my evening fire! By nature formed to dwell on fancy's themes, With sacred faith | hear her wildest dreams; On all her clouds impress a livelier glow. And flush the paintbg of her gaudiest bow. Or sometimes, stung by virtue's broken rules. Hie pomp of villiuns, and the pride of fools,

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ss IBS tfvuaim or BAPmoaa.

Grown sick of life, a wiBtiul diougbt I otat

Where thought h*d tcwce begun to guide the put; Where truth sat broodiag, Uke a white^fJaoied Aove, O'er iofant fneodibtp, and o'cv infant k)TC; The fairy btit hj unple state* taU,

And memoiy nuiwig is the itmga o£ old.

One hallowed tatcbej atilt rec^a tW boj. The baUow«d satche) dmire a tear of jojl Oh, g<Jden days! that ae'ef retmna again. When life's full oamnt ma witho«t a stua; Warm from the heart eadi points with w«t led^ Without the ccid conclnsioiu of the head. Some littte cares, that fiuttered at they nae. Just sunk again to sweeten oev repose; No tangled knowledge did iht soul ^sdure, And this waa wisdom, for the saai was pxae.

Not yet, for all ^ powen of boastfiil ait. Each deeper scteaee, each sublimer part. Did {aide allow «w> would I barter this. The meek-eyed virtae, with hec peacc&l Utss.

Cease then to chaoe the meteor aa it files, Be humbly happy, and be humbly wise. To know what nature meaut, what heaven idlowcd^

Too great for vice, too little to be proud. With mirth to chear, with temper ae'et forgot. This may be ours—'twas Iitatiiliis'a lot

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THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINBBS. n

BoTD in Aat middle state, which gives to knov Wbat greatneBB ia, what greatness can't bestow; With moderate wishes, but no cares that rex; With knowledge jnst to goide, bnt not perplex; Tfa«t ne'er at truth's plain dictates took offence; That ne'er in snbtilty was knt to sense; With taste, that knew the pleasing path to strike. Without the mce dkcemineiit of dislike; Warm froei his heart though rirtn^s zeal arose. Compassion checked the flame, and spared her foei. With pions awe her jealous sense suppressed. And took the worst of

seemings at the best; Xvea for Uie worst a brother's yearnings kept.

And where his faith condemned, his nature wept.

Free from her proudest good, her direst hBtm, He fled ttom fortune to an boraUe farm; There sbuened the crowd his virtne ne'er approved j There saw the better few his virtue kived.

Oh, let Hte oft the blissful scene recal, (While pfond ttmbition's

{^inny vimods iall,) His bam when autumn's yellow booo^ stored.

The modem pabwch o'er his festive hoard! His festive beturd, wUcb modest nature graced. Nor tortured appetite, md called it Taste; Where towered no plale, no saocy lacqueys frowoedi But rosy children satlike cherubs round: .

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There, on the welcome guest, the wife, the child. The ffiend, the husbsad, and the fsther, stniled ; There, mildly jocund o'er the temperate bowl, Free rose the mirth that poured his spotless sonl; And warm good nature roved where pleasure li^ Betwixt the gaily mad, and dully wise.

Such was his life; a life his death confessed. That gave the saint to live, the man to rest. Heaven took him at an age, that just bereft If is keener passions, bat his reason left; That just could feel the present as it passed. Look o'er hif fonner days, nor fear his last.

Oh, spare his grave, ye proud!—the mooldeiins clod No marble covers, but a simple god; Near where its withering ajms the ancient yew X>eans to the east, and drops the hoary dew: There on the award I saw them rest his bier; (By faith forbidden, starts one human tear,) Some sons of virtue, now themselves forgo^ Walked, with a pausing step, the silent spot; On heaven their eyes they cast, their hopes relied^ Father, thy aill be done! —they said, and sighed.

Ob, that my verse a memory could give "^p live for ages, that so pqre could live |

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THE PURSUITS OF HAPPINESS. E

Proud to attepd on virtue's train aloncj Mark his untainted life,—and mend my own. Then should no sigh my wounded bosom tear For aught Uiat fortune's glittering sons may wear; But reason teach me, that we idly roam For bUss abroad, which she can find at home-Placed where no spark of genius dares to riae^ Where dulness scarce unfolds her leaden eyes. With all th* inextricable maze around. Of Gothic jargon, and unmeaning sound. Virtue may teach to feel but half ^e chun. And strew her roses o'er the barren plain. Blessed, if no crime its shameful wages bring, Nor wealth be wafled on dishonour's wiog; Gay where I can, nor always loving mirlh. Not Fancy's quite, nor quite a son of Earth; May I, what wisdom can, what weakness should, Hannless at least, attempt a little good; And, calmly aotii^

where the pageants end. Smile at the great, and venerate my friend.

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t » 3 EPILOGUE

TO

THE TRAGEDY OF TAMERLANE.

ACTED BV CHILDREN, 1772>

It maynot be unannwing ftx the principal acUm i« this Tragedy (brought out as an exercise for declama-Uon to the young pupils of Mrs Baker, a celebrated actress and teactier of reading in Edinburgh, at a little occasiooal thetitn ffl the hoese <^ the tben Lord Pretident Dandaa,) to venritect the objects of tbeir ambiUoo then, compared v/'iA their tkuatLoas aow. The part of Ta~ vi^lane was played by Master Kobert Duodas, now Lord Chief Baron of Scotland; that otBi^azet, by Master Thomas (now General] Maitland; and that of JHb-neiea, by Lord Maitland, now the Earl of Lauderdale: Sdima, the speaker of this Epilogue, was Miss Danda^ then not entered in her teeua, now Mri Hamilton.

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fiPILOOnS TO TAHXKUliB.

Spokm ty Saiauu

And bo, it teeinf, I'm to foi^t my ciying. My grids, my traospcuta, «od my fears of dyiog, (I'm told '^ b11 yoar grows-np players' way,) To laugh with yoa, and talk abont die play.

But I can tell yon, there mre fidks befaiod. Shaking their beads, and speaking oat theti mind. They say," At best 'tis but aa idle thing To make a boy palaver like « king; And as for misses, in our wiser days.

They noiked tb^r samplers, and oe^er heaid of pUy»."

And yet, ihiakft I, my grave f>ne8,1 can see. That older folks act plays as well as we. ' I have a little fiiead, who writM me down. What yoor fine Ittdiea act in Londm town; Such plays!—I'U teU you, if I don't forget. For I'm not perfect in their titles yet.

First, there's a club of beaux, whose conversation Helps them to act a ptay they e^ Flirtation; They have a strange long uickoame—Let me see— Poh!—it begins with Mac, and tmia with ee.

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And next the ladies, freer than with you. They have their nightly club and tavern too; They can't the Coterie, it la^ all seasoDs, They play with bhcidng-baUi, and treatwith ramat.*

TbeQ there's a place, she says, that beats tbem all^ Tis neither concert, opera, play, nor ball; But there are gods, and goddesses, and graces, Tis—I forget their queer hard names for places— (She wrote the very night it was to be on,) A vast large—Pan—I think they call't—

Fanlheon.

Besides all these, there's many a new invention, Naugh^, she says, and which she dares not mention : X fear me, when some great folks act for life. They seldom play Moneses' loving wife; Were they to speak their mind, they'd ciy, " 'twould please ns To live with Bajazet, and hang Moneses."

But while the number even of harmless plays. Remains for grown-up misses now-a-days.

■ ThCM werethetokcBiorapprobatioDar duKntuedBt the bklloto of tbii female clab, Imtltnud abont the lime tbi* EpU logne wai writtcD, bnt, to the CTcdit of tbe faBhlomble world,

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EPILOGUE TO TAMERLANBi V.

Grudge not to ns the poefa melting Btrain, Where Tamerlane and virtue hold their reign: Well grow, in time, to follow fashions too, And act the scenes you bigger ladiea do.

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EPILOGUE

LOGAN'S TRAGEDY OF RUNNYMEDE.

This Epilogue was never uaed; the Koyalty Theatre, at which Runnymede was intended to be brought out, baving been interdicted by authority.

The allusioni were made to the political cant of the time, and the phrases are those of the English law, quoted in vindication of the rights of freemen; but the trifie is not worth a glossary.

TBBOtJOH five long acts, our poet brings to view What men of yore for freedom's sake would do; Allow me, then, a few plain tines to tell.

In female bieasta what free-boiQ spirits dwelL.

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BPILOGDE TO RDNKTHSDE. U

S&;, bnsbaads, od this tniJ; Britisb theme* I« there b baron but ma; find a feme f

Id distant proviacea, aod conatry wats. Though some plain rural no^oi/cs one meetly "Who bear a tyrant Nitnrod's MTereign avaj, '\ And drudge in household cares their livei away, > Conten tj like those of France, tomurmur and obey, J Yet these are few; there's not a British land. Whose dames dispute not this unjust command. There with this high prerogative at strife, For her dear freedom fights the feudal wife; For her dear freedom many a battle tries Of sturdy sullens, melting tears, and sighs; Miuntains the war in all its various forms. Saps by soft fits, or in hysterics storms; Till, worn with loud alarms, and bard-fought fields, The vanquished monarch to her prowess yields. And with a half-forced smile, or baffled frown. Allows her habeat corput up to town.

Here, for this freedom thrives in London air. She finds her Runnymede in Grosvenor-square; Her magna charta —cardd for fifty nights, And a long milliner's bill—her bill of rights; The trial by peers would gladly undergo, And no attatkme'it bears—but to a beau.

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W £PILOGU£ TO RUNNTHEDE.

IFj after all, even in this liberal air, Prudery may name a few more passive fair^ Proud of a wife's, or of a mother's part, A child's affection, or a husband's heart, Whate'er their rank, the fashion wont go down;-We'll all resist this i^uence of the cnma.

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t w J

EPILOGUE

MTJONALD^ TRAGEDY OF VIMONDA.

Mbthinss our heroine wns woodroiu weak To let her match a goblin's story break; Now, thank our stars! that childish creed is lost. That gare such mighty ia6aeiice to a gbott; Nor ever, as in those old-fashioned times, " Pertarhed spirits* speak of secret crimes; Except when raised by some shrewd swindling braiuj They tbnmp, and

scratch, and vanish in Cock-lane. Ont lovers' spoosals meet with no delays From phantom visitations qow-a-daya. More solid ban their tender wishes cross. Deeds to indite, and parchments to ingross; Settling of jointures, pin-money debates. Weighing of rents, and wedding of estates:

VOIh Till. •

EPILOGUE TO VIHONDA.

Pale stewards nse, with fate of maoors big.

And lawyers walk^ and shake—a three-tailed wig.

Or sometimes, such frail things are human Ues, Perturbed spirits qfier wedlock rise;

Spirits of anger, sullenness, and strife.

That blight the genuine sweets of married life; Passions^ that every esorcism brave.

And cold indifference from affection's grave!

Or should the wife have some familiar sprite*

(Such things there are,) that haunts the house by night. He, like our bard, if rightly understood. May prove no ghost perhaps,rbut—flesh and blood. But here, within our mimic kingdom's bonnde. Still antique ghosts-may walk'tlwir nightly rounds; May tmncbeoDedHamlets-atatt:, or Banquo's shade Drive Scotlaad's.tyiant from'his «eat dismayed; Our spirit8.ri8e ateTeity.opening door. And "'troops of shades" costs bat somC'chalk the

more. Could but onr magic spells contrive to bind Spirits before the curtain, as beiiind. Poets no more-ebould'dread the fatal sound Of

harsh and angry^blins rising round. Of those who howl above, or hiss beneath thej

ground.

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BPILoaUB TO TIHONDA. W

But milder powers shonld breathe their 'mQaeact here. And join the Moses* smile, the Muses' tear. If such kind spirits hither make resort. Weak as we are, we'll not be fnghtened for't; Let them walk heie, we'll use no charm to cure it. And though owAotoe be haunted—^we'll endure it

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INSCRIPTION

FOR A HUT, IN A BEAUTIFUL SITUATION IN THE HIGHLAND& I had foi^otteD the two following Iiucnptioni, (written for a plac«

which long sJQce changed iu poe8essor,aad baa lost more than half its beauty,} till they were recalled to my memory by a letter froui a gentleman in tba Isle of Wight, mentioaing that they were found on tfae shore of that island, after the shipwreck of a Te»el, of which he did not mention (or if he did I have fergoU ten) the name, m circumstances which shewed them to have belonged to one of the uufortunate passengen. Annexed to the parcel was a note, mentioning them to be the productions of the author of the " Man of Feeling." The incident waa ungular, though the subject was trifling. I endeavoured, but without success to trace by what means it occurred.

Thou who hast traced the windings of the dell. If haply here thy wildered steps are led.

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Read whaX the Genius of the rural scene. As once upOn my raptnred ear he poured The wildest warblings of his oaten reed. Spoke when he closed the song.

" Not these alone. The woodland bower, or bank with violets dressed

; Not the first smile of meek-ejed mom, that wakes The carol of the groves; the water's fall, Its murmurs wafting on the gentle gale, Hiat breathes on evening's bosom ; not the gleam Of setting snn, that g^ds the tufted shade, Mor all the mingled forms of beauty else, Hiat nature's lavish hand hath spread around: Not these alone delight, save when the soul Congenial meets them, artless, pensive, pore; Who, foQowiag nature in her peaceful walks, Unenvied hears the din of life arise. Toils of the great, and follies of the gay; And, wrapped in calm contentment's russet robe, Pitiea the pageant bliss of half mankind."

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INSCRIPTION

FOR A WALK AT THE SAME PLACE, At THE EK-TKANCE TO THE

GEOUNDS.

Tbsad with awe the paths aroiuid! Tread with awe, 'tis hallowed ground I For here, in this seqaestered dell. Wis ye who the gaestd that dwell?

Simplicity, whc^ hrows adorn The daisies washed by dewy mora |

And Pity, with a lambkin pfesaed^ A dying lambkin, to her breaaU

And here, beside the babbling stream, Yonng Fancy winds her tangled dream. Or on the steep, with eager eye. Gazes wild a waste of sky.

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INSCRIPTIOIf, &e.

Kor yet forbid they genUe Lore To lose him in the trackless grove; For oft, I ween, in Virtue's truD, Thee, gentle Love^ they hear

complain.

And sore, with every sister-grace.

That white-iobed vestal haunts the place {

If led by her his steps appear.

The strangei's steps are welcome here.

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EPITAPH

WILLIAM GORDON, ESQ. OF NEWHALL, IN ROaS-SHIRE. *

"So boastful peacil bids this stone attest What science crowned bim, or what genius blest; Yet may it witness, with a purer pride,

How many virtues sunk when Goedon died.

Clear truth, and native nobleness of mind.

Open as day^ that beamed on all mankind;

Warm to shlige, too geuHe to offend.

That never made a foe, nor lost a friend.

Nor yet from fortune's height, or learaing'a shade.

It boasts the tribute to his memory paid;

* Ui GoTdoo WM ODC «f ny Mrilcft ud desrett fricDdt. For a tketcb ofbia charuter,tee theMuBOB,Ho. 90. written by tbe UU Iiord Abercroniby.

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Bat that aronnd, in gntefnl sorrow iteeped.

The humble tenants of the cottage wept.

Hiose simple hearts that shrink ^m gnodeur's blaze, Those artless tongues that know not how to pniWi feel and record the worth that hallows here

A iiiend'a Eemembiance, and a siatei's tear.

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VERSES

ATTBB BECOTBB1NO FBOH THE FIBST ANODISB OF A SETXBB

FAHILT-AFFLICTION.

Ob, sweQ anew tbat solemn strain!

Oh, breathe again that dying sound I That sadly soothes affliction's pain;

That stilla the throb in sorrow's wound.

Yet would I not forget my woe;

The sad remembrance let me keep; Those sounds that bid my sorrows flow.

Those soniids can bid their anguish sleep.

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Thoogh d«ep the sigh, the agfa was dear^ To joys loDg lost reflection gave;

And sweet to me the conscious tear That drops opon aflectioa's grave I

And there shall sorrow sit apart.

And watch the tnrf that wraps their mold; And press their memory to my heart.

Till that poor drooping heart be cold.

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DRAMATIC PIECES.

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PRINCE OF TUNIS,

A TRAGEDY.

AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL OF EDINBDKGB, 1173.

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PROLOGUE

SPOKEN BY MRS YATES,

IHE CHAOACTER OF THE GENIUS OF SCOTLAND.

Jnida a mSd romauic icate, the Oemus adeanect to the mmd of loimm muac

Whsbs yCHider distutt hills majestic Hk, And bare their luowy bownu to the ddei. In sacred solitude I love to dwell. While the big

torrent fbsms arotuid my cell t GeDioi of Scotland! there aloft I stand. And view the growlDg glories of the land.

*r?raB there ttw Son af Fingal towered alon^ And, 'midst his moantain«, roll«d the flood of song; Twas there the heroes of that soag arose. And Roman eagles foond anvanqoiBbed Ibes; The rugged clifl; the barren desart, smiled. For I, and bose-robed Freedom}

walked the wikL

Bat now, beneath a milder planet's leign. No steely pbdanz desolates the plain;

VOL. Till. H

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The gentler arta, that polish human Idnd, IVead the soft lawn, and leave it blessed behind; . Commerce and peace unlock their stores uoiuKlf And choral muses sing on dasuc ground.

Late as I merlced, with fimd maternal eyes. On ereiy side my leurdled sons adM; Deeds, else forgot, that graced the distant age, I saw immortal in the Scottish page; In Scotland tnmmed, the lamp of wisdom blaz^ And heard her song that sounds to iiiture days; Twas mine the meed of honoui to bestow. And weave the wreath that crowns the deathlesa brow.

An humble poet, scarcely known to fame. Stepped doubtful forth, one little sprig to claim. " From eariiest youth," he said, " be wished to find Where first the passions nature's robe unbind; For nature's sqns with artless pencil drew. And walked on tragic ground with ber in view: If on his native stage his scenes may live. He asks no praise but what the heut can give."'

Such were bis words; but yours the power to raile The buds of genius with the dew of praise. With you his cause I leave; his Btory hear; And, if applause it merits^—shed a tear.

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PERSONS OP THE DRAMA,

AS BEPBE8BNTBD AT EDIMBDKOH,

IN 177S.

Babbakossa, Mr Inchbitld.

Uauax, J rMr Woods.

! Hbli, > Officen mdtr BorhnvMi. <Mr IMgges.

[ SuLADDHi,) CMr Webb.

Zatha, Mr Fleetwood.

ZvuMA, Mrs Yates.

Zbtda, Mist Glauington.

Siaaet, SMiert, tfe.

SCENE—7^ Royal Palace <^ Tuni*.

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E «" 3

PRINCE OF TUNIS.

ACT I.

Zdlima ahnt, Tu done I and Barbarosss is my lord t Ah! my Arassid!

is it lawAil nour For wretched ZuHma to think on fhee i Yes: by the weakness of my sonl betrayed. Though now another claim the withered love lliat died with him, yet while reflection lires Within this tortured mind, on the sad thenft Shall sleepless Memory her

musings bend> And, ]ike a miser, at the midnighb-honrj Steal from the world, and count my hoarded woes!

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Nor yet shall Barbarossa blame my teai9> Shed for the friend his valoor has revenged.

Enter Zbtda. My Zeyda, thou art Welcome; but for thee This world were like a desart to my sight, Howling and wild, without one friendly hand To gnide my steps, or point my thoughts to peace.

Zey. Are these the looks, my Zulima, that brides Wear on their wedding days i Thy Zeyda's aid. Weak as it was, though from an honest heart. Is needless now. A conquering soldier's arm. The valiant Barbarossa's, guards my friend. And mocks the threatening of her sorrows past.

Zul. Her sorrows past \ —when will her sorrows end f Oh! never, never, till this swelUng heart Shall beat no more! Zeyda, the flattering hopes That other wretches, desolate like her. Turn their faint eyes on with a gleam of comfort. To Zulima are lost; relentless Fate , Has fixed her doom of wretchedness beyond The wiMest wish of Fortune to recaL

Zey. Banish those dread reflections &om your mincL Though Zejda be a partner in yonr woe. Too near a partner; though a sister's teara i«ai*Goog[c

Mingle with tbiae apon Arsaud's bier; Yet would her friendship hide them as tbej 6ow, Revolviag years may win our soiTOWS from us.

And dull foi^etfiilne«s, with silent pace. Creep on our souls, and Inll Uiem into patiencet

Zul. It shall not, Zeyda. Oh! this heart vere vile, If e'er the idle pi^eaotry of life Could check its virtnous sorrow. I and Sorraw Were long ere this familiar. When a child. Before my sense could reason on my tears. My nature abed them. Tbou hast often heard The piteous

tale : when first I lisped out words, Twas but to talk imperfectly of sorrow.

Zof. 1 cannot grieve for what thy childhood suffered. The Btonn that wrecked thee on our coast has given A friend to Zeyda, and a queen to Tunis.

Zai. A queen to Tunis! How my tboDghts are up. And tranble at themselves! Alas! my Zeyda, There was & time vhea thk fond heart was proud To think of sharing empire with Arassid. At his good father's death, be flew to find me, (It gave a sceptie; yet an honest teai-Stole from his ^e,) " Tis now my time," be said, " To place my Znlinla where worth like her's

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Should bless my kingdom." Bst a litde while I gave to decent grief^

for him whose kindness Made me his child, without the Ue of natare.

&y. Bat, in that interval, far other days Your destinies had measured.

Dark^eyed TreaaoD, That long in some ambitions chiefs had watched Occau<Hi for its mischief, now arose To open violence.

ZuL Twos at the hour Of silent midnight, pondering on the maze Where Fate had led me, sadden, in my sight, Disguised beneath the habit of a mote, Arassid stood. " Fear not, my love," be said; " Beau^

and innocence, like thine, the Prophet And his beat angels guard. To them, alas! I leave thee now: Rebellion's'on the spur. And hunts me in this form." Aghast I stood. In dumb amazement; with a manly calmness. Stifling his grief,—" Be comforted," he aaid, " The Sultan was my father's stedfast Jiiend; Generous and brave, as fame aloud reports him. He will support hb son. To him I fly." Then, gazing on me, breathed a faint farewell. That was bis last farewell! Then what am I i A wi^tcb, whom Heaven bath punished with a heart i«ai*Goog[c

In snffeiiagB feeble, yet too Btnmg to break I Why waa my iDfancy for this preserved From the iwoln billows of the raging flood! I

should have, died, whea od my gailllees soul Death, like a> sleep, had

&Uen, and given it bliss.

Za/. For deeds of mercy by the aim of Heaven Thy life was rescued.

Flnshed with haughty conquest, When Barbarossa led his savage bands. O'er the vride waste of streets, that smoked in rain. To plunder and to cainage, thon couldst stop Destrnction's course; by thee the thunder lost Its fiercest fire, and spared devoted Tunis, 2ti/. Oh! call not to roy mind that day of horror. Though many a parent mourned their children slain. Though many a widow wailed their fallen lords. For me remained more complicated anguish. When it was rumoured, that the prince was come With Barbarossa, and the sultan's aid. To drive usurping Treason from his throne. Trembling I sat to watch the dread event. And breathed unutterable prayers to Heaven To i^eld his precious life. Around me rose ' The horrid din of arms, the shouts of battle. Still, as the noise grew louder, did my heart Beat to the alanim of their clanging trumpets.

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And, with ihe mingleti fiusb of bope and fear.

My eager eyea stared wildly for Arasud.

Streaked with the purple lines of deathfiil war.

At length a soldier entered my apartment.

The oatiTe fierceness of hia look was tempered With softness ill assumed. He bowed before me.

Bade me forget my fears, and rest secure

In Barbarossa's friendship. Fiunt and breatfalesB, With terror faultering on my lips, I asked

For my Arasaid< The barbarian turned,

And wept, or seemed to weep.—" The prince," he said, " lives with the blessed! But Barbarossa's friendship Stretches to all his friends." I heard no more. Would that my Zeyda's caie had th«i forgot me. Nor to a wretch, like me, recalled the life That teems with corses i Nay, I pray thee, weep Dot; I cannot weep!

Z^. My brother!

Zid. Speak, my Zeyda, Speak all hia praise ; it ia the little comfort Tliat yet is left me: though it pierce my heart. Yet will I press the fond remembrance tliere. Till, in some favoured hour, it burst with thiokiag Of what I was.

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Z^. Oh! urge it not so &r; live for hb friends, and for the friendi of Timii. Begirt with soldiers foreign to its tate. The valiant Barbaiossaj warm and open. Ma; bear ftome ooiuiBels hortfiil to its peace. Bat thon shalt smooth the nigged hand of power. And teach thy lord the softer sway of mercy.

Zul, Alas! my Zeyda, how that title sounds With Barharossa's name!

And must I smile With poor hypocrisy ? chase from my heart The dear remembrance of an honest love, And, fashioning my features into gladness. Crawl on the earth, and prostitute my looks For splendid misery, and titled meanness t My yirtae will not let me, nor my pride; A woman's pride, that fortune cannot vanqnisfa.

Zof, There spoke the Znlima Arasaid loved ! Is tbere no blush upon his sister's cheek. The dangbter of a king i But 111 forget it; Humili^

is a dependant's virtue. And Barbarossa is the lord of Tunis.

Zid. Forgive me, Zeyda; though at times I talk thus. Yet am I weftk and fearful.—Do not hate me!— ■ Wibiesa ihe vows, that, fresh upon my liiw.

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Have made me Barbarossa's! Ut not ao ? Oh! say I am not, and I'll bless thy tongae That ^ves me freedom.

Zof. Do not think I blame thee. . I know thy virtae. Tis our sex's weakness. Perhaps its praise, to want the stem resolve. That arms nnyielding natures: who of women. Forlorn as thou wert, and beset with perils, Had, in despite of prudence, fiercely scorned The shelter which she offered i

ZtU. Ah! my Zeyda^ It was not prudence, it was something meaner My gratitude I owed him for myself; Then^ as Arassid's friend, mingling his tears In one sad stream with mine, he claimed myfavonf. But did not talk of lore; till, at the last, He wooed me in compassion's gentle fonn. To chase despair and anguish front his breast. Worn, as I was, and stupified with sorrow. My soul had lost the strength, that should have

guarded Her firm relentless iaith; and Barbarossa, With ceaseless importani^, prevailed To gun a loveless shadow to his amis. Bat see, he cornea. Oh' do not leave me long.

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For thou cfuut hear my giief.

[EnVZBTAA, Why do I tremble i

Metbinks it is pollDtion to approach him; And somelhiiig, with the chilly hand of FeaTj Knocks at my heart, and thrills the blood within me.

Etaer Babbadossa.

Bar. MyZuIima! my bride! "niatname demands A wanner Ipok. Why turns thy moistened eye From Baibarossa ? ht's a suitor still. The sterner customs of an eastern husband His lore foregoes; bat Zulima requites him With nnrelenUng coldaess.

Zui. No ; she feels "Die gratitude that Barbaroasa's love. And Barbarossa's iriendship, well demand. She can no more; perhaps her

nature wants The warmth, that glows in more exalted minds.

Bar. For me alone she wants it What conditioa Of love assiduous, of unwearied service. Can win her smile for me }

Zul. Alas! her cheek. Id sorrow steeped, has lost the power to smile.