Think not, he cry'd, ye view the fmiles of eafe, "Or this firm breaft difclaims a patriot's pain; 1 fmile, but from a foul eftrang'd to peace, Frantic with grief, delirious with disdain!

But were it cordial, this detefted fmile,

Seems it lefs timely than the grief ye fhew? O fons of CARTHAGE! grant me to revile The fordid source of your indecent woe!

Why weep ye now! ye faw with tearless eye
When your fleet perish'd on the Punic wave :
Where lurk'd the coward tear, the lazy figh,
When TYRE's imperial ftate commenc'd a flave ?

'Tis paftO CARTHAGE! vanquish'd! honour'd fhade! Go, the mean forrows of thy fons deplore; Had freedom fhar'd the vow to fortune paid,

She ne'er, like fortune, had forfook thy fhore."

He ceas'd-abash'd the conscious audience hear;
Their pallid cheeks a crimson blush unfold;
Yet o'er that virtuous blush distreams a tear,
And falling moiftens their abandon'd gold.

* By the terms forced upon the CARTHAGINIANS by SCIFIO, they were to deliver up all the elephants, and to pay near twe millions sterling.

ELEGY

ELE G Y XX.

He compares his humble fortune with the dif trefs of others; and his fubjection to DELIA, with the miferable fervitude of an African flave.

WH

WHY droops this heart, with fancy'd woes forlorn Why finks my foul beneath each wintry sky? What penfive crowds, by ceafelefs labours worn,

What myriads, wish to be as bleft as I !

What tho' my roofs devoid of pomp arife,
Nor tempt the proud to quit his deftin'd way?
Nor coftly art iny flow'ry dales disguise,

Where only fimple friendship deigns to ftray

See the wild fons of LAPLAND's chill domain,
That scoop their couch beneath the drifted fnows!
How void of hope they ken the frozen plain,
Where the fharp east for ever, ever blows!

Slave tho' I be, to DELIA's eyes a slave,

My DELIA's eyes endear the bands I wear; The figh fhe causes well becomes the brave, The pang fhe caufes, 'tis ev'n bliss to bear.

See the poor native quit the Lybian shores,
Ah! not in love's delightful fetters bound!
No radiant fmile his dying peace restores,

Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship heals his wound.

Let vacant bards display their boafted woes,
Shall I the mockery of grief display?

No, let the mufe his piercing pangs disclose,
Who bleeds and weeps his fum of life away!

On the wild beach in mournful guise he stood,
Ere the fhrill boatswain gave the hated fign;
He dropt a tear unfeen into the flood;

He stole one fecret moment, to repine.

Yet the mufe liften'd to the plaints he made;
Such moving plaints as nature could inspire;
To me the mufe his tender plea convey'd,

But fmooth'd, and fuited to the founding lyre.

"Why am I ravish'd from my native strand?
What favage race protects this impious gain?
Shall foreign plagues infest this teeming land,
And more than fea-born monsters plough the main ?

Here the dire locufts horrid swarms prevail;
Here the blue afps with livid poifon fwell;

Here the dry dipfa writh his finuous mail;
Can we not here, fecure from envy, dwell?

When

When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace,

When the ftern panther fought his midnight prey,
What fate referv'd me for this* chriftian race?
O race more polish'd, more severe than they!

Ye prouling wolves pursue my latest cries!
Thou hungry tyger, leave thy reeking den!
Ye fandy waftes in rapid eddies rife!

O tear me from the whips and fcorns of men!

Yet in their face fuperior beauty glows;

Are fmiles the mien of rapine and of wrong? Yet from their lip the voice of mercy flows, And ev'n religion dwells upon their tongue.

Of blissful haunts they tell, and brighter climes,
Where gentle minds convey'd by death repair,
But ftain'd with blood, and crimson'd o'er with crimes,
Say, fhall they merit what they paint fo fair?

No, careless, hopeless of those fertile plains,
Rich by our toils, and by our forrows gay,
They ply our labours, and enhance our pains,
And feign thefe diftant regions to repay.

For them our tufky elephant expires;

For them we drain the mine's embowel'd gold; Where rove the brutal nations wild defires? ?

Our limbs are purchas'd, and our life is fold!

* Spoke by a favage.

F 3

Yet

Yet fhores there are, bleft fhores for us remain,
And favour'd ifles with golden fruitage crown'd,
Where tufted flow'rets paint the verdant plain,
Where ev'ry breeze fhall med'cine ev'ry wound,

There the ftern tyrant that embitters life

Shall, vainly fuppliant, fpread his afking hand;
There shall we view the billow's raging ftrife,
Aid the kind breaft, and waft his boat to land."*

ELE GY XXI.

Taking a view of the country from his retirement, he is led to meditate on the character of the ancient BRITONS. Written at the time of a rumoured tax upon luxury. 1746.

THU

HUS DAMON fung-What tho' unknown to praise Umbrageous coverts hide my mufe and me; Or 'mid the rural fhepherds, flow my days,

Amid the rural fhepherds, I am free,

To view fleek vaffals crowd a ftately hall,

Say, fhould I grow myfelf a folemn flave? To find thy tints, O TITIAN! grace my wall, Forego the flow'ry fields my fortune gave?

Lord