Think not, he cry'd, ye view the fmiles of eafe, But were it cordial, this detefted fmile, Why weep ye now! ye faw with tearless eye 'Tis paft-OCARTHAGE! vanquifh'd! honour'd fhade! He ceas'd-abafh'd the conscious audience hear; ELEGY By the terms forced upon the CARTHAGINIANS by SCIPIO, they were to deliver up all the elephants, and to pay near two millions terling. ELEGY 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. WHY HY droops this heart, with fancy'd woes forlorn? Why finks my foul beneath each wint'ry sky? What penfive crowds, by ceafelefs labours worn, What myriads, wifh to be as bleft as I! What tho' my roofs devoid of pomp arife, Where only fimple friendship deigns to ftray? See the wild fons of LAPLAND's chill domain, Slave tho' I be, to DELIA's eyes a flave, The pang Sea See the poor native quit the Lybian fhores, 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 boasted woes, Shall I the mockery of grief display? No, let the mufe his piercing pangs difclofe, Who bleeds and weeps his fum of life away! On the wild beach in mournful guife he stood, He ftole one fecret moment, to repine. Yet the mufe liften'd to the plaints he made; But fmooth'd, and fuited to the founding lyre. "Why am I ravifh'd from my native strand? Here the dire locufts horrid fwarms prevail; When When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chace, Ye prouling wolves purfue my lateft cries! O tear me from the whips and scorns 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, But ftain'd with blood, and crimson'd o'er with crimes, No, careless, hopeless of those fertile plains, For them our tusky 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! F 3 Spoke by a favage, Yet Yet fhores there are, bleft fhores for us remain, There the ftern tyrant that embitters life Shall, vainly fuppliant, spread his asking hand; ELEGY 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. TH 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 stately hall, Say, fhould I grow myself a folemn slave? To find thy tints, O TITIAN! grace my wall, Forego the flow'ry fields my fortune gave? Lord |