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Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid
To laws infirm, and liberty decay'd ;
Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show ;
Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe;
Has boasted in thy country's awful ear,
Her gross delusion when she held thee dear ;
How tame she follow'd thy tempestuous

call, And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted

allRise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old For laws subverted, and for cities sold ! Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt, The oaths you perjured, and the blood you

spilt ; Yet must you one untempted vileness own, One dreadful palm reserved for him alone; With studied arts his country's praise to

spurn, To beg the infamy he did not earn, To challenge hate when honour was his due, And plead his crimes where all his virtue

knew. Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose From each fair feeling human nature knows? Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear To all that reason, all that sense would

hear? Else couldst thou e'er desert thy sacred post, In such unthankful baseness to be lost? Else couldst thou wed the emptiness of vice, And yield thy glories at an idiot's price ?

When they who, loud for liberty and laws, In doubtful times had fought their country's

cause, When now of conquest and dominion sure, They sought alone to hold their fruits

secure; When taught by these, Oppression hid the

face, To leave Corruption stronger in her place, By silent spells to work the public fate, And taint the vitals of the passive state, Till healing Wisdom should avail no more, And Freedom loathe to tread the poison'd

shore : Then, liko some guardian god that flies to

Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier

fires, To trace thy steps the love-sick youth

aspires; The learn'd recluse, who oft amazed had

read Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, With new amazement hears a living name Pretend to share in such forgotten fame; And he who, scorning courts and courtly

ways, Left the tame track of these dejected days, The life of nobler ages to renew In virtues sacred from a monarch's view, Roused by thy labours from the bless'd

retreat, Where social ease and public passions meet, Again ascending treads the civil scene, To act and be a man, as thou hadst been.

Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew, And the great end appear'd at last in view : We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice, We saw the senate bending to thy voice ; The friends of freedom hail'd the approaching

reign Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain ; While venal Faction, struck with new dis

may, Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd

lay. Waked in the shock the public Genius rose, Abash'd and keener from his long repose ; Sublime in ancient pride, he raised the spear Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to

fear; The city felt his call: from man to man, From street to street, the glorious horror

ran; Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his

power, And, murmuring, challenged the deciding

hour. Lo! the deciding hour at last appears ; The hour of every freeman's hopes and

fears! Thou, Genius ! guardian of the Roman name, O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame ! Instruct the mighty moments as they roll, And guide each movement steady to the

goal. Ye spirits by whose providential art Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart, Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind, And watch his fancy, and his passions bind ! Ye shades immortal, who by Freedom led, Or in the field or on the scaffold bled, Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, And view the crown of all your labours nigh. See Freedom mounting her eternal throne ! The sword submitted, and the laws her

own: See! public Power chastised beneath her

stands, With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands! See private Life by wisest arts reclaim'd! See ardent youth to noblest manners framed !


The weary pilgrim from an instant grave, Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful

snake Steals near and nearer through the peaceful

brake; Then Curio rose to ward the public woe, To wake the heedless, and incite the slow, Against Corruption Liberty to arm, And quell the enchantress by a mightier

charm. Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew, And with thy country's hopes thy honours

grew. Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd; Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant

bless'd; Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds ; The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns;

Yet high and jealous of their free-born

name, Fieroe as the flight of Jove's destroying

flame, Where'er Oppression works her wanton

sway, Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay. But if to purchase Curio's sage applause, My country must with him renounce her

cause, Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod, Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod ; Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to

rail, Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail : Else, ere he change the style, bear me away To where the Gracchi, where the Bruti

stay! O long revered, and late resign'd to shame! If this uncourtly page thy notice claim When the loud cares of business are with.

drawn, Nor well-dress'd beggars round thy footsteps

fawn ; In that still, thoughtful, solitary hour, When Truth exerts her unresisted power, Breaks the false optics tinged with fortune's

glare, Unlocks the breast, and lays the passions

bare ;

See us acquire whate'er was sought by you, If Curio, only Curio will be true. 'Twas then–O shame! O trust how ill

repaid ! O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd !'Twas then-What frenzy on thy reason

stole ? What spells unsinew'd thy determined

soul ? Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved, The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved, This patient slave by tinsel chains allured, This wretched suitor for a boon abjured, This Curio, hated and despised by all, Who fell himself to work his country's fall ?

O lost, alike to action and repose ! Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes! With all that conscious, undissembled pride, Sold to the insults of a foe defied ! With all that habit of familiar fame, Doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in

shame! The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art To act a statesman's dull, exploded part, Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, Display thy virtue, though without a dower, Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, And shut thy eyes that others may be

blind.Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile, When shameless mouths your majesty defile, Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong

crew, And cast their own impieties on you. For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred

power My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest

hour, How have I stood exulting, to survey My country's virtues, opening in thy ray! How with the sons of every foreign shore The more I match'd them, honour'd hers the

more! Orace erect! whose native strength of soul, Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws

control, Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, And seeks a nobler centre for its cares ; Intent the laws of life to comprehend, And fix dominion's limits by its end. Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, By conscious reason judging every state, The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's

disguise : Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to

view Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, Or, all awake at pity's soft command, Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious

hand : Thence large of heart, from envy far re

When public toils to virtue stand approved,
Not the young lover fonder to admire,
Not more indulgent the delighted sire;

Then turn thy eyes on that important scene,
And ask thyself—if all be well within.
Where is the heart-felt worth and weight of

soul, Which labour could not stop, nor fear con

trol ? Where the known dignity, the stamp of

awe, Which, half-abash'd, the proud and venal

saw ?

Where the calm triumphs of an honest cause ? Where the delightful taste of just applause ? Where the strong reason, the commanding

tongue, On which the senate fired or trembling hung ? All vanish'd, all are sold—and in their room, Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, distracted

gloom, See the pale form of barbarous Grandeur

dwell, Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell! To her in chains thy dignity was led ; At her polluted shrine thy honour bled ; With blasted weeds thy awful brow she

crown'd, Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters

bound, That baffled Reason straight indignant flew, And fair Persuasion from her seat withdrew : For now no longer Truth supports thy cause; No longer Glory prompts thee to applause; No longer Virtue breathing in thy breast, With all her conscious majesty confess'd, Still bright and brighter wakes the almighty

flame, To rouse the feeble, and the wilful tame,

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Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain,
And reach impatient at a nobler strain,
Soon the sad bodings of contemptuous mirth
Shoot through thy breast, and stab the ge-

nerous birth, Till, blind with smart, from truth to frenzy

toss'd, And all the tenor of thy reason lost, Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear; While some with pity, some with laughter

hear.Can art, alas! or genius, guide the head, Where truth and freedom from the heart are

fled ? Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke, When the prime function of the soul is

broke? But come, unhappy man! thy fates im

pend; Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a

friend; Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like

thine, Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign; For see the hand of Destiny display'd To shut thee from the joys thou hast be

tray'd! See the dire fame of Infamy arise ! Dark as the grave, and spacious as the

skies ; Where, from the first of time, thy kindred

train, The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. Eternal barriers guard the pathless road To warn the wanderer of the cursed abode ; But prone as whirlwinds scour the assive p

sky, The heights surmounted, down the steep they

fly. There, black with frowns, relentless Time

awaits, And goads their footsteps to the guilty

gates ; And still he asks them of their unknown

aims, Evolves their secrets, and their guilt pro

claims; And still his hands despoil them on the road Of each yain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, Break their proud marbles, crush their festal And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. At last the gates his potent voice obey ; Fierce to their dark abode he drives his

prey ; Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chains, The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns, O’er mighty names and giant-powers of lust, The great, the sage, the happy, and august.

No gleam of hope their baleful mansion

cheers, No sound of honour hails their unbless'd

ears ; But dire reproaches from the friend be

tray'd, The childless sire and violated maid ; But vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, From towns enslaved, and continents laid

waste; But long posterity's united groan, And the sad charge of horrors not their own, For ever through the trembling space resound, And sink each impious forehead to the

ground. Ye mighty foes of liberty and rest, Give way, do homage to a mightier guest ! Ye daring spirits of the Roman race, See Curio's toil your proudest claims efface ! Awed at the name, fierce Appius rising

bends, And hardy Cinna from his throne attends : “ He comes," they cry, “to whom the fates

assign'd With surer arts to work what we design'd, From year to year the stubborn herd to sway, Mouth all their wrongs, and all their rage

obey ; Till own'd their guide, and trusted with their

power, He mock'd their hopes in one decisive hour; Then, tired and yielding, led them to he

chain, And quench'd the spirit we provoked in

vain." But thou, Supreme, by whose eternal hands Fair Liberty's heroic empire stands ; Whose thunders the rebellious deep control, And quell the triumphs of the traitor's soul, Oh! turn this dreadful omen far away : On Freedom's foes their own attempts repay : Relume her sacred fire so near suppress'd, And fix her shrine in every Roman breast : Though bold Corruption boast around the

land, “Let virtue, if she can, my baits withstand ! Though bolder now she urge the accursed

claim, Gay with her trophies raised on Curio's

shame; Yet some there are who scorn her impious

mirth, Who know what conscience and a heart are

worth.-O friend and father of the human mind, Whose art for noblest ends our frame

design'd! If I, though fated to the studious shade Which party-strife, nor anxious power invade, If I aspire in public virtue's cause, To guide the Muses by sublimer laws, Do thou her own authority impart, And give my numbers entrance to the heart. Perhaps the verse might rouse her smother'd

flame, And snatch the fainting patriot back to fame;


Perhaps by worthy thoughts of human kind,
To worthy deeds exalt the conscious mind;
Or dash Corruption in her proud career,
And teach her slaves that Vice was born to


Akenside.-Born 1721, Died 1770.

“Ah, luckless day! when first with fond

surprise On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes ! Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost, Then reason, liberty, at once were lost : And every wish, and thought, and care, was

gone, But what my heart employ'd on her alone. Then too she smiled: can smiles our peace

destroy, Those lovely children of Content and Joy? How can soft pleasure and tormenting woe From the same spring at the same moment

flow? Unhappy boy! these vain inquiries cease, Thought could not guard, nor will restore, thy

peace : Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure, And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to


904.-THE PROGRESS OF LOVE. Pope, to whose reed beneath the beachen

shade The nymphs of Thames a pleased attention

paid; While yet thy Muse, content with humbler

praise, Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays ; Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's

wing, Of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing : Wilt thou with me revisit once again The crystal fountain, and the flowery plain? Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verse relate The various changes of a lover's state; And, while each turn of passion I pursue, Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true ?

To the green margin of a lonely wood, Whose pendent shades o’erlook'd a silver

flood, Young Damon came, unknowing where he

stray'd, Full of the image of his beauteous maid : His flock, far off, unfed, untended, lay, To every savage a defenceless prey ; No sense of interest could their master move, And every care seem'd trifling now but love. Awhile in pensive silence he remain'd, But, though his voice was mute, his looks

complain'd; At length the thoughts, within his bosom

pent, Forced his unwilling tongue to give them

vent. “Ye nymphs," he cried, “ye Dryads, who

so long Have favour'd Damon, and inspired his

song ; For whom, retired, I shun the gay resorts Of sportful cities, and of pompous courts ; In vain I bid the restless world adieu, To seek tranquillity and peace with you. Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage No factions here can form, no

wage : Though Envy frowns not on your humble

shades, Nor Calumny your innocence invades : Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast, Too often violates your boasted rest; With inbred storms disturbs your calm

retreat, And taints with bitterness each rural sweet.

Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart How kind she was, and with what pleasing

art She strove its fondest wishes to obtain, Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain. If on the green we danced, a mirthful band, To me alone she gave her willing hand ; Her partial taste, if e'er I touch'd the lyre, Still in my song found something to admire, By none but her my crook with flowers was

crown'd, By none but her my brows with ivy bound : The world, that Damon was her choice, bo

lieved, The world, alas ! like Damon, was deceived. When last I saw her, and declared my fire In words as soft as passion could inspire, Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew, Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu. The frighted hind, who sees his ripen'd corn Up from the roots by sudden tempests torn, Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted

lie, Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I. Ah, how have I deserved, inhuman maid, To have my faithful service thus repaid ? Were all the marks of kindness I received But dreams of joy, that. charm'd me and

deceived ? Or did you only nurse my growing love, That with more pain I might your hatred

prove ? Sure guilty treachery no place could find In such a gentle, such a generous mind : A maid brought up the woods and wilds

among Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts 80

young : No; let me rather think her anger feign'd, Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd; 'Twas only modesty that seem'd disdain, And her heart suffer'd when she gave me

pain.” Pleased with this flattering thought, the

love-sick boy Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy ;



Back to his flock more cheerful he return'd, So Locke the days of studious quiet spent ; When now the setting Sun more fiercely So Boyle in wisdom found divine content; burn'd,

So Cambray, worthy of a happier doom, Blue vapours rose along the mazy rills,

The virtuous slave of Louis and of Rome. And light's last blushes tinged the distant Good Wor'ster thus supports his drooping hills.


Far from court-flattery, far from party-rage ; Lord Lyttelton.-Born 1709, Died 1773.

He, who in youth a tyrant's frown defied,
Firm and intrepid on his country's side,
Her boldest champion then, and now her

mildest guide!

O generous warmth! O sanctity divine ! 905.-TO THE REVEREND To emulate his worth, my friend, be thine:

Learn from his life the duties of the gown; DR. AYSCOUGH.

Learn, not to flatter, nor insult the crown ; Say, dearest friend, how roll thy hours away ? Nor, basely servile, court the guilty great, What pleasing study cheats the tedious day? Nor raise the church a rival to the state : Dost thou the sacred volumes oft explore To error mild, to vice alone severe, Of wise Antiquity's immortal lore,

Seek not to spread the law of love by fear. Where virtue, by the charms of wit refined, The priest who plagues the world can never At once exalts and polishes the mind ?

mend : How different from our modern guilty art, No foe to man was e'er to God a friend. Which pleases only to corrupt the heart; Let reason and let virtue faith maintain : Whose curst refinements odious vice adorn, All force but theirs is impious, weak, and And teach to honour what we ought to scorn! vain. Dost thou in sage historians joy to see

Me other cares in other climes engage, How Roman greatness rose with liberty : Cares that become my birth, and suit my How the same hands that tyrants durst age ; control

In various knowledge to improve my youth, Their empire stretch'd from Atlas to the And conquer prejudice, worst foe to truth; Pole;

| By foreign arts domestic faults to mend, Till wealth and conquest into slaves refined ! Enlarge my notions, and my views extend ; The proud luxurious masters of mankind ? The useful science of the world to know, Dost thou in letter'd Greece each charm Which books can never teach, or pedants admire,

show. Each grace, each virtue, Freedom could A nation here I pity and admire, inspire;

Whom noblest sentiments of glory fire, Yet in her troubled state see all the woes, Yet taught, by custom's force and bigot fear, And all the crimes, that giddy Faction To serve with pride, and boast the yoke they knows ;

bear : Till, rent by parties, by corruption sold, Whose nobles, born to cringe and to comOr weakly careless, or too rashly bold,

mand She sunk beneath a mitigated doom,

(In courts a mean, in camps a generous The slave and tutoress of protecting Rome?

band), Does calm Philosophy her aid impart,

From each low tool of power content receive To guide the passions, and to mend the Those laws, their dreaded arms to Europe heart?

give. Taught by her precepts, hast thou learnt the Whose people (vain in want, in bondage end

blest; To which alone the wise their studies bend; Though plunder'd, gay; industrious, though For which alone by Nature were design'd

The powers of thought—to benefit mankind ? With happy follies rise above their fate,
Not, like a cloister'd drone, to read and doze, The jest and envy of each wiser state.
In undeserving, undeserved repose ;

Yet here the Muses deign'd awhile to sport But reason's influence to diffuse ; to clear In the short sunshine of a favouring court: Th' enlighten'd world of every gloomy fear; Here Boileau, strong in sense and sharp in Dispel the mists of error, and unbind

wit, Those pedant chains that clog the free-born Who, from the ancients, like the ancients mind.

writ, Happy who thus his leisure can employ! Permission gain'd inferior vice to blame, He knows the purest hours of tranquil joy ; By flattering incense to his master's fame. Nor vext with pangs that busier bosoms tear, Here Molière, first of comic wits, excell'd Nor lost to social virtue's pleasing care; Whate'er Athenian theatres beheld; Safe in the port, yet labouring to sustain By keen, yet decent, satire skill'd to please, Those who still float on the tempestuous With morals mirth uniting, strength with



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