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Where Britain's foremost names are found,
In peace belov’d, in war renown'd,
Who made the hostile nations moan,
Or brought a blessing on their own

Once more a son of Spencer waits. A name familiar to thy gates ; Sprung from the chief whose prowess gain'd The Garter while thy founder reign'd, He offer'd here his dinted shield, The dread of Gauls in Cressi's field, Which, in thy high-arch'd temple rais'd, For four long centuries hath blaz'd.

These seats our sires, a hardy kind, To the fierce sons of war confin'd, The flower of chivalry, who drew With sinew'd arm the stubborn yew: Or with heav'd pole-ax clear'd the field ; Or who, in joust and tourneys skill'd, Before their ladies' eyes renown'd, Threw horse and horseman to the ground.

Though griev'd I speak it, let the truth appear!
You know my language, and my heart, sincere.
In vain did falsehood his fair fame disgrace :
What force had falsehood when he show'd his face !
In vain to war our boastsul clans were led
Heaps driv'n on heaps, in the dire shock they fled :
France shuns his wrath, nor raises to our shame
A second Dunkirk in another name:
In Britain's funds their wealth all Europe throws,
And up the Thames the world's abundance flows:
Spite of feign'd fears and artificial cries,
The pious town sees fifty churches rise :
The hero triumphs as his worth is known,
And sits more firmly on his shaken throne.

To my sad thought no beam of hope appears
Through the long prospect of succeeding years.
The son, aspiring to his father's fame,
Shows all his sire: another and the same.
He, blest in lovely Carolina's arms,
To future ages propagates her charms :
With pain and joy at strise, I often trace
The mingled parents in each daughter's face ;
Half sickening at the sight, too well I spy
The father's spirit through the mother's eye:
In vain new thoughts of rage I entertain,
And strive to hate their innocence in vain.

O princess! happy by thy foes consest!
Blest in thy husband! in thy children blest!
As they from thee, from them new beauties born,
While Europe lasts, shall Europe's thrones adorn.
Transplanted to each court, in times to come,
Thy smile celestial and unfading bloom,
Great Austria's sons with softer lines shall grace,
And smooth the frowns of Bourbon's haughty race.
The fair descendants of thy sacred bed,
Wide-branching o'er the western world, shall spread
Like the fam'd Banian tree, whose pliant shoot
To earth ward bending of itself takes root,
Till, like their mother plant, ten thousand stand
In verdant arches on the fertile land;
Beneath her shade the tawny Indians rove,
Or hunt, at large, through the wide echoing grove.

O thou, to whom these mournful lines I send, My promis'd husband, and my dearest friend; Since Heaven appoints this favor'd race to reign, And blood has drench'd the Scottish fields in vain ; Must I be wretched, and thy flight partake ? Or wilt not thou, for thy lov’d Chloe's sake, Tir'd out at length, submit to fate's decree? If not to Brunswick, O return to me! Prostrate before the victor's mercy bend : What spares whole thousands, may to thee extend. Should blinded friends thy doubtful conduct blame, Great Brunswick's virtue shall secure thy fame : Say these invite thee to approach his throne, And own the monarch Heaven vouchsafes 10 own : The world, convinc'd, thy reasons will approve; Say this to them; but swear to me 'twas love.

In after-times, as courts refin'd, Our patriots in the list were join'd. Not only Warwick stain'd with blood, Or Marlborough near the Danube's flood, Have in their crimson crosses glow'd; But, on just lawgivers bestow'd, These emblems Cecil did invest, And gleam'd on wise Godolphin's breast

So Greece, ere arts began to rise, Fix'd huge Orion in the skies, And stern Alcides, fam'd in wars, Bespangled with a thousand stars ; Till letter'd Athens round the Pole Made gentler constellations roll; In the blue heavens the lyre she strung, And near the Maid the Balance * hung.

Then, Spencer, mount amid the band, Where knights and kings promiscuous stand. What though the hero's flame repress'd Burns calmly in thy generous breast ! Yet who more dauntless to oppose In doubtful days our home-bred foes ! Who rais'd his country's wealth so high, Or view'd with less desiring eye!

The sage, who, large of soul, surveys The globe and all its empires weighs, Watchful the various climes to guide, Which seas, and tongues, and faiths, divide, A nobler name in Windsor's shrine Shall leave, if right the Muse divine, Than sprung of old, abhorr'd and vain, From ravag'd realms and myriads slain.



Why praise we, prodigal of fame, The rage that sets the world on flame? My guiltless Muse his brow shall bind Whose godlike bounty spares mankind For those, whom bloody garlands crown, The brass may breathe, the marble frown To him through every rescued land, Ten thousand living trophies stand.


Thou Dome, where Edward first enrollid His red-cross knights and barons bold, Whose vacant seats, by Virtue bought, Ambitious emperors have sought.

* Names of constellations.


JAMES HAMMOND, a popular elegiac poet, was the Elegies” were published soon after his death by second son of Anthony Hammond, Esq. of Somer- Lord Chesterfield, and have been several times sham place, in Huntingdonshire. He was born in reprinted. It will seem extraordinary that the no1710, and was educated in Westminster school, ble editor has only once mentioned the name of where at an early age he obtained the friendship of Tibullus, and has asserted that Hammond, sincere several persons of distinction, among whom were in his love, as in his friendship, spoke only the Lords Cobham, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton. He genuine sentiments of his heart, when there are so was appointed equerry to Frederic, Prince of Wales, many obvious imitations of the Roman poet, even and upon his interest was brought into parliament so far as the adoption of his names of Neera, Cynin 1741, for Truro in Cornwall. This was nearly thia, and Delia. It must, however, be acknow.he last stage of his life, for he died in June 1742, ledged, that he copies with the hand of a master, at the seat of Lord Cobham, at Stowe. An unfor- and that his imitations are generally managed with tunate passion for a young lady, Miss Dashwood, a grace that almost conceals their character. Still who was cold to his addresses, is thought to have as they are, in fact, poems of this class, however disordered his mind, and perhaps contributed to his skilfully transposed, we shall content ourselves with premature death.

transcribing one which introduces the name of his Hammond was a man of an amiable character, principal patron with peculiarly happy effect. and was much regretted by his friends. His “ Love

What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain,
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast !

Or lull'd to slumber by the beating rain,

Secure and happy, sink at last to rest!
He imagines himself married to Delia, and that, Or, if the Sun in faming Leo ride,

content with each other, they are retired into the By shady rivers indolently stray, country.

And with my Delia, walking side by side,

Hear how they murmur, as they glide away! LET others boast their heaps of shining gold, What joy to wind along the cool retreat, And view their fields, with waving plenty crown'd, To stop, and gaze on Delia as I go! Whom neighboring foes in constant terror hold, To mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet, And trumpets break their slumbers, never sound. And teach my lovely scholar all I know! While calmly poor I trifle life away,

Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream
Enjoy sweet leisure by my cheerful fire, In silent happiness I rest unknown;
No wanton hope my quiet shall betray,

Content with what I am, not what I seem,
But, cheaply blest, I'll scorn each vain desire. I live for Delia and myself alone.
With timely care I'll sow my little field,

Ah, foolish man, who thus of her possest,
And plant my orchard with its master's hand, Could float and wander with ambition's wind,
Nor blusb, to spread the hay, the hook to wield, And if his outward trappings spoke him blest,
Or range my sheaves along the sunny land. Not heed the sickness of his conscious mind!
If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam,

With her I scorn the idle breath of praise, I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb,

Nor trust to happiness that's not our own; Under my arm I'll bring the wanderer home, The smile of fortune might suspicion raise, And not a little chide its thoughtless dam. But here I know that I am lov'd alone.

Stanhope, in wisdom as in wit divine,

Delia alone can please, and never tire, May rise, and plead Britannia’s glorious cause, Exceed the paint of thought in true delight ; With steady rein his eager wit confine,

With her, enjoyment wakens new desire, While maniy sense the deep attention draws. And equal rapture glows through every night : Let Stanhope speak his listening country's wrongs, Beauty and worth in her alike contend, My humble voice shall please one partial maid ; To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind; For her alone I pen my tender song,

In her, my wife, my mistress, and my friend, Securely sitting in his friendly shade.

I taste the joys of sense and reason join'd. Stanhope shall come, and grace his rural friend, On her I'll gaze, when others loves are o'er, Delia shall wonder at her noble guest,

And dying press her with my clay-cold handWith blushing awe the riper fruit commend, Thou weep'st already, as I were no more, And for her husband's patron cull the best. Nor can that gentle breast the thought withstand Hers be the care of all my little train,

Oh, when I die, my latest moments spare, While I with tender indolence am blest, Nor let thy grief with sharper torments kill, The favorite subject of her gentle reign,

Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair. By love alone distinguish'd from the rest. Though I am dead, my soul shall love thee still: For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plow,

Oh, quit the room, oh, quit the deathful bed. In gloomy forests tend my lonely flock;

Or thou wilt die, so tender is thy heart; For her a goat-herd climb the mountain's brow, Oh, leave me, Delia, ere thou see me dead, And sleep extended on the naked rock.

These weeping friends will do thy mournful part : Ah, what avails to press the stately bed,

Let them, extended on the decent bier, And far from her midst tasteless grandeur weep, Convey the corse in melancholy state, By marble fountains lay the pensive head, Through all the village spread the tender tear, And, while they murmur, strive in vain to sleep? | While pitying maids our wondrous loves relate.


William SOMERVILE, an agreeable poet, was| mind, and plunged him into habits which shortened born in 1692, at his father's seat at Edston, in War- his life. He died in 1742; and his friend Shen. wickshire. He was educated at Winchester school, stone, with much feeling, announces the event to whence he was elected to New College, Oxford. one of his correspondents. Somervile passed his His political attachments were to the Whig party, life in celibacy, and made over the reversion of his as appeared from his praises of Marlborough, Stan- estate to Lord Somervile, a branch of the same hope, and Addison. To the latter of these he ad-family, charged with a jointure to his mother, then dressed a poem, in which there is the happy couplet in her 90th year. alluded to in the Spectator :

As a poet, he is chiefly known by “The Chase," “When panting Virtue her last efforts made,

a piece in blank verse, which maintains a high

rank in the didactic and descriptive classes. Being “ You brought your Clio to the Virgin's aid."

composed by one who was perfectly conversant with “Clio" was known to be the mark by which Addi. the sports which are its subject, and entered into son distinguished his papers in that miscellany. them with enthusiasm, his pictures greatly surpass

Somervile inherited a considerable paternal es- the draughts of the same kind which are attempted late, on which he principally lived, acting as a by poets by profession. Another piece connected magistrate, and pursuing with ardor the amusements with this is entitled “Field Sports,” but only de. of a sportsman, varied with the studies of a man scribes that of hawking. In his “Hobbinol, or of letters. His mode of living, which was hospi- Rural Games,” he attempts the burlesque with tol. table, and addicted to conviviality, threw him into erable success. Of his other pieces, serious and pecuniary embarrassments which preved on his comic, there are few which add to his fame.

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|THE Chase I sing, hounds, and their varlous breed,

And no less various use. O thou, great prince! Book I.

Whom Cambria's towering hills proclaim their lord,

Deign thou to hear my bold, instructive song. Argument.

While grateful citizens with pompous show, Che subject proposed. Address to his royal high- Rear the triumphal arch, rich with th' exploits ness the prince. The origin of hunting. The Of thy illustrious house ; while virgins pave rude and unpolished manner of the first hunters. Thy way with flowers, and, as the royal youth Beasts at first hunted for food and sacrifice. The Passing they view, admire and sigh in vain; grant made by God to man of the beasts, &c. While crowded theatres, too fondly proud The regular manner of hunting first brought of their exotic minstrels, and shrill pipes, into this island by the Normans. The best hounds The price of manhood, hail thee with a song, and best horses bred here. The advantage of And airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn this exercise to us, as islanders. Address to gen- Invites thee to the Chase, the sport of kings; tlemen of estates. Situation of the kennel and Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse its several courts. The diversion and employ- Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care ment of hounds in the kennel. The different Thy foaming courser o'er the steepy rock, sorts of hounds for each different chase. De- Or on the river bank receive thee safe, scription of a perfect hound. Of sizing and sort-Light-bounding o'er the wave, from shore to shore ing of hounds; the middle-sized hound recom- Be thou our great protector, gracious youth ! mended. Of the large deep-mouthed hound for And if, in future times, some envious prince, hunting the stag and otter. Of the lime-hound ; Careless of right, and guileful, should invade their use on the borders of England and Scotland. Thy Britain's commerce, or should strive in vain A physical account of scents. Of good and bad To wrest the balance from thy equal hand; scenting days. A short admonition to my breth- Thy hunter-train, in cheerful green array'd, ren of the couples.

|(A band undaunted, and inur'd to toils)



Shall compass thee around, die at thy feet, Is bred the perfect hound, in scent and speed
Or hew thy passage through th' embauiled foe, As yet unrivall’d, while in other climes
And clear thy way to fame : inspir'd by thee, Their virtue fails, a weak degenerate race.
The nobler chase of glory shall pursue

In vain malignant steams and winter fogs Through fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of Load the dull air, and hover round our coasts : death.

The huntsman, ever gay, robust, and bold,
Nature, in her productions slow, aspires Defies the noxious vapor, and confides
By just degrees to reach perfection's height: In this delightful exercise, to raise
So mimic Art works leisurely, till time

His drooping herd, and cheer his heart with joy.
Improve the piece, or wise Experience give

Ye vigorous youths, by smiling Fortune blest The proper finishing. When Nimrod bold, With large demesnes, hereditary wealth, That mighty hunter, first made war on beasts, Heap'd copious by your wise forefathers' care, And stain'd the woodland-green with purple dye, Hear and attend! while I the means reveal New, and unpolish'd was the huntsman's art; T' enjoy those pleasures, for the weak too strong, No stated rule, his wanton will his guide. Too costly for the poor : To rein the steed With clubs and stones, rude implements of war, Swift stretching o'er the plain, to cheer the pack He arm'd his savage bands, a multitude

Opening in concerts of harmonious joy, Untrain'd; of twining osiers form’d, they pitch But breathing death. What though the gripe severe Their artless toils, then range the desert hills, Of brazen-fisied Time, and slow disease And scour the plains below; the trembling herd Creeping through every vein, and nerve unstrung, Start at th' unusual sound, and clamorous shout Afflict my shatter'd frame, undaunted still, Unheard before ; surpris'd, alas! to find

Fix'd as a mountain ash, that braves the bolts
Man now their foe, whom erst they deem'd their lord, Of angry Jove; though blasted, yet unfallen;
But mild and gentle, and by whom as yet Still can my soul in Fancy's mirror view
Secure they graz’d. Death stretches o'er the plain Deeds glorious once, recall the joyous scene
Wide-wasting, and grim slaughter red with blood : In all its splendors deck'd, o'er the full bowl
Urg'd on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill, Recount my triumphs past, urge others on
Their rage licentious knows no bound ; at last, With hand and voice, and point the winding way.
Encumber'd with their spoils, joyful they bear Pleas'd with that social sweet garrulity,
Upon their shoulders broad the bleeding prey. The poor disbanded veteran's sole delight.
Part on their altars smoke a sacrifice

First let the kennel be the huntsman's care,
To that all-gracious Power, whose bounteous hand Upon some little eminence erect,
Supports his wide creation; what remains And fronting to the ruddy dawn; its courts
On living coals they broil, inelegant

On either hand wide opening to receive
Of taste, nor skill'd as yet in nicer arts

The Sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines Of pamper'd luxury. Devotion pure,

And gilds the mountain tops. For much the pack And strong necessity, thus first began

(Rous'd from their dark alcoves) delight to stretch
The chase of beasts : though bloody was the deed, And bask in his invigorating ray:
Yet without guilt. For the green herb alone Warn'd by the streaming light and merry lark,
Unequal to sustain man's laboring race,

Forth rush the jolly clan; with tuneful throats
Now every moving thing that liv'd on Earth They carol loud, and in grand chorus join'd
Was granted him for food.* So just is Heaven, Salute the new-born day. For not alone
To give us in proportion to our wants.

The vegetable world, but men and brutes
Or chance or industry in after-time

Own his reviving infuence, and joy
Some few improvements made, but short as yet At his approach. Fountain of light! if chance
Of due perfection. In this isle remote

Some envious cloud veil thy refulgent brow,
Our painted ancestors were slow to learn, In vain the Muses' aid ; untouch'd, unstrung,
To arms devote, of the politer arts

Lies my mute harp, and thy desponding bard
Nor skill'd nor studious; till from Neustria's coasts Sits darkly musing o'er th' unfinish'd lay.
Victorious William, to more decent rules

Let no Corinthian pillars prop the dome,
Subdu'd our Saxon fathers, taught to speak A vain expense, on charitable deeds
The proper dialect, with horn and voice

Better dispos'd, to clothe the tatter'd wretch,
To cheer the busy hound, whose well-known cry Who shrinks beneath the blast, to feed the poor
His listening peers apprðve with joint acclaim. Pinch'd with afflictive want. For use, not state,
From him successive huntsmen learn'd to join Gracefully plain, let each apartment rise.
In bloody social leagues, the multitude

O'er all let cleanliness preside, no scraps
Dispers’d; to size, to sort their various tribes; Bestrew the pavement, and no half-pick'd bones
To rear, feed, hunt, and discipline the pack. To kindle fierce debate, or to disgust

Hail, happy Britain! highly favor'd isle, That nicer sense, on which the sportsman's hope,
And Heaven's peculiar care! To thee 'tis given And all his future triumphs, must depend.
To train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those Soon as the growling pack with eager joy
Begot by winds, or the celestial breed

Have lapp'd their smoking viands, morn or eve,
That bore the great Pelides through the press From the full cistern lead the ductile streams,
Of heroes arm'd, and broke their crowded ranks ; To wash thy court well pav'd, nor spare thy pains
Which, proudly neighing, with the Sun begins For much to health will cleanliness avail.
Cheerful his course ; and ere his beams decline, Seek'st thou for hounds to climb the rocky steep,
Has measur'd half thy surface unfatigued. And brush th' entangled covert, whose nice scent
In thee alone, fair land of liberty!

O'er greasy fallows and frequented roads

Can pick the dubious way? Banish far off * Gen. chap. ix. ver. 3.

Each noisome stench, let no offensive smell 43

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