He cleaves the yielding skies! Cæfar mean while
Gathers the ocean pebbles; or the gnat

Enrag'd purfues; or at his lonely meal

Starves a wide province; tastes, dislikes, and flings
To dogs and fycophants: a God, a God!
The flow'ry fhades and shrines obfcene return.

But fee along the north the tempest swell
O'er the rough Alps, and darken all their fnows!
Sudden the Goth and Vandal, dreaded names,
Rufh as the breach of waters, whelming all
Their domes, their villa's; down the feftive piles,
Down fall their Parian porches, gilded baths,

And roll before the ftorm in clouds of duft.
Vain end of human ftrength, of human skill,
Conqueft, and triumph, and domain, and pomp,
And ease and luxury! O luxury,

Bane of elated life, of affluent states,

What dreary change, what ruin is not thine?
How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind!
To the foft entrance of thy rofy cave

How doft thou lure the fortunate and great!
Dreadful attraction! while behind thee

gapes
'Th' unfathomable gulph where Ashur lies
O'erwhelm'd, forgotten; and high-boafting Cham;
And Elam's haughty pomp; and beauteous Greece;
And the great queen of earth, imperial ROME.

THE

BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Efq;

Audita voces, vagitus & ingens,

Infantumque animæ flentes in Limine primo.

ADVERTISEMENT.

VIRG.

What particulars in Spenfer were imagin'd most proper for the Author's imitation on this occafion, are his language, bis fimplicity, his manner of defcription, and a peculiar tenderness of fentiment remarkable throughout his works.

I.

A how
Α

H me! full forely is my heart forlorn,

To think how modest worth neglected lies; While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise;

Deeds of ill fort, and mischievous emprize!
Lend me thy clarion, goddefs !" let me try
To found the praise of merit, ere it dies ;
Such as I oft have chanced to espy,
Loft in the dreary fhades of dull obfcurity.
II.

In ev'ry village mark'd with little spire,
Embow'r'd in trees, and hardly known to Fame,
There dwells, in lowly fhed, and mean attire,
A matron old whom we school-mistrefs name;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame.
They grieven fore, in piteous durance pent,
Aw'd by the pow'r of this relentless dame;
And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,

For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are forely fhent.
III.

And all in fight doth rise a birchen tree,

Which Learning near Her little dome did stowe; Whilom a twig of small regard to fee, -Tho' now fo wide its waving branches flow; And work the fimple vaffals mickle woe; For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, But their limbs fhudder'd, and their pulse beat low;

And, as they look'd, they found their horror grew, And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.

IV. So

IV.

So have I feen (who has not, may conceive,)
A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd :
So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave,
Of sport, of fong, of pleafure, of repaft;
They ftart, they ftare, they wheel, they look aghaft:
Sad fervitude! fuch comfortless annoy

May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste!
Ne Superftition clog his dance of joy,

Ne vifion empty, vain, his native bliss destroy.

V.

Near to this dome is found a patch fo

green,
On which the tribe their gambols do difplay';
And at the door impris'ning board is seen,
Leaft weakly wights of fmaller fize fhou'd stray;
Eager, perdie, to bask in funny day!

The noises intermix'd, which thence refound,
Do Learning's little tenement betray:

Where fits the dame, disguis'd in look profound,

And eyes her fairy-throng, and turns her wheel around.
VI.

Her cap, far whiter than the driven fnow,
Emblem right meet of decency does yield:
Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe,
As in the Hare-bell that adorns the field:

And in her hand, for fceptre, fhe does wield Tway birchen sprays; with anxious Fear entwin'd, With dark Diftruft, and fad Repentance fill'd; And ftedfaft Hate, and fharp Affliction join'd, And Fury uncontroul'd, and Chaftifement unkind. VII.

Few but have ken'd, in semblance meet pourtray'd,
The childish faces of old Eol's train;

Libs, Notus, Aufter: these in frowns array'd,
How then would fare or earth, or sky, or main,
Were the stern god to give his flaves the rein ?
And were not she rebellious breafts to quell,
And were not she her ftatutes to maintain,

The cott no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dwell. VIII.

A ruffet ftole was o'er her shoulders thrown;

A ruffet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air;

"Twas fimple ruffet, but it was her own;
'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair;
'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare;
And, footh to fay, her pupils, rang'd around,
Thro' pious awe, did term it paffing rare;
For they in gaping wonderment abound,

And think, no doubt, fhe been the greatest wight on ground.

IX. Albeit