See now the mourner of the lonely shade
By gods protected, and by hofts obey'd,
A flave, a chief, by fickle Fortune's play,
In the short course of one revolving day.
What wonder if the youth, so strangely bleft,
Felt his heart flutter in his little breast!
His thick-embattel'd troops, with fecret pride,
He views extended half an acre wide;

More light he treads, more tall he seems to rise,
And ftruts a straw-breadth nearer to the fkies.

O for thy Mufe, great Bard, whose lofty strains
In battle join'd the Pygmies and the Cranes !
Each gaudy knight, had I that warmth divine,
Each colour'd legion in my verse should shine.
But fimple I, and innocent of art,

The tale, that footh'd my infant years, impart,
The tale I heard whole winter eves, untir'd,
And fing the battles, that my nurse inspir'd.
Now the fhrill corn-pipes, echoing loud to arms,
To rank and file reduce the ftraggling fwarms.
Thick rows of fpears at once, with fudden glare,
A
grove of needles, glitter in the air;

• Mr. ADDISON.

Loofe

Loofe in the wind small ribbon ftreamers flow,
Dipt in all colours of the heav'nly bow,

And the gay hoft, that now its march pursues,
Gleams o'er the meadows in a thousand hues.

On Buda's plains thus formidably bright,
Shone Afia's fons, a pleafing dreadful fight.
In various robes their filken troops were seen,
The blue, the red, and prophet's facred green:
When blooming BRUNSWICK near the Danube's flood,
Firft ftain'd his maiden fword in Turkish blood.
Unseen and filent march the flow brigades
Through pathlefs wilds, and unfrequented shades,
In hopes already vanquish'd by furprize,
In Albion's power the fairy empire lies;
Already has he feiz'd on Kenna's charms,
And the glad beauty trembles in his arms.

The march concludes; and now in profpect near, But fenc'd with arms, the hoftile towers appear, For Oberon, or Druids falfely fing,

Wore his prime vifir in a magic ring,

· A subtle spright, that opening plots foretold By fudden dimness on the beamy gold.

Hence in a crescent form'd, his legions bright

With beating bosoms waited for the fight;

VOL. I.

E

To

To charge their foes they march, a glitt'ring band,
And in their van doth bold Azuriel ftand.

What rage that hour did Albion's foul poffefs,
Let chiefs imagine, and let lovers guess!
Forth iffuing from his ranks, that ftrove in vain
To check his course, athwart the dreadful plain
He strides, indignant: and with haughty cries.
To fingle fight the fairy prince defies.

Forbear, rash youth, th' unequal war to try;
Nor, fprung from mortals, with immortals vie.
No god ftands ready to avert thy doom,

Nor yet thy grandfire of the waves is come.

My words are vain-no words the wretch can move,
By beauty dazzled, and bewitch'd by love:
He longs, he burns to win the glorious prize,
And fees no danger, while he fees her eyes.
Now from each hoft the eager warriors ftart,
And furious Albion flings his hafty dart:
'Twas feather'd from the bee's tranfparent wing,
And its fhaft ended in a hornet's fting;

But, tofs'd in rage, it flew without a wound,

High o'er the foe, and guiltlefs pierc'd the ground. Not fo Azuriel's: with un-erring aim

Too near the needle-pointed javelin came,

Drove through the feven-fold fhield, and filken vest,
And lightly ras'd the lover's ivory breast.

Rous'd at the fmart, and rifing to the blow,
With his keen fword he cleaves his fairy foe,
Sheer from the fhoulder to the waift he cleaves,
And of one arm the tott'ring trunk bereaves.

His useless steel brave Albion wields no more,
But fternly fmiles, and thinks the combat o'er ;
So had it been, had aught of mortal strain,
Or less than fairy felt the deadly pain.
But empyreal forms, howe'er in fight

Gash'd and dismember'd, easily unite.
As fome frail cup of China's purest mold,
With azure varnish'd, and bedrop'd with gold,
Tho' broke, if cur'd by fome nice virgin's hands,
In its old strength and pristine beauty stands;
The tumults of the boiling Bohea braves,
And holds fecure the Coffee's fable waves:
So did Azuriel's arm, if fame fay true,
Rejoin the vital trunk whence first it grew;

And, whilft in wonder fix'd poor Albion stood,
Plung'd the curs'd fabre in his heart's warm blood.

The golden broidery tender Milkah wove,

The breaft to Kenna facred and to love,

1

Lie rent and mangled: and the gaping wound
Pours out a flood of purple on the ground.
The jetty luftre fickens in his eyes;

On his cold cheeks the bloomy freshness dies;
Oh Kenna, Kenna, thrice he try'd to say,
• Kenna farewel:' and figh'd his foul away.
His fall the Dryads with loud fhrieks deplore,
By fifter Naiads echo'd from the shore,

Thence down to Neptune's fecret realms convey'd,
Through grots, and glooms, and many a coral fhade.
The fea's great fire, with looks denouncing war,

1

The trident shakes, and mounts the pearly carr:
With one stern frown the wide-fpread deep deforms,
And works the madding ocean into storms.
O'er foaming mountains, and through bursting tides,
Now high, now low, the bounding chariot rides,
'Till through the Thames in a loud whirlwind's roar
It fhoots, and lands him on the deftin'd fhore.

Now fix'd on earth his tow'ring stature stood,
Hung o'er the mountains, and o'erlook'd the wood.
To Brumpton's grove one ample stride he took,
(The valleys trembled, and the forests shook)
The next huge step reach'd the devoted shade,
Where choak'd in blood was wretched Albion laid:

Where