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In shades like these pursue your favourite joy,
But neighs to the shrill trumpet's dreadful
Till death, and when he groaxs, he groans
his last ! SURVEY the warlike horse! didst thou in
vest With thunder his robus', distended chest ?
THE LION No sense of fear his dauntless soul allays;
YOUNG. 'Tis dreadful to behold his nostrils blaze : To paw the vale be proudly takes delight, Fierce o'er the sands the lordly Lion stalks, And triumphs in the fulness of his might; Grimly majestic in his lonely walks : High-rais’d, he snuffs the battle from afar, When round he glares, all living creatures And burns to plunge amid the raging war: fly; He mocks at death, and throws his foam He clears the desert with his rolling eye, around,
By the pale moon he takes his destin'd round, And in a storm of fury shakes the ground. Lashes bis sides, and furious tears the ground. How does his firm, his rising heart, advance Now shrieks and dying groans the forest fill, Fall on the brandish'd sword, and shaken He rages, rends, his rav'nous jaws distil lance;
With crimson foam, and when the banquet's While his fix'd eye-balls meet the dazzling o'er, shield,
He strides away, and paints his steps with Gaze, and return the lightning of the field! gore. He sinks the sense of pain in gen'rous pride, In flight alone the shepherd puts his trust, Nor feels the shaft that trembles in his side; And shudders at the talon in the clust.
WAERE southern suns and winds prevail, Waen I have seen thy snowy wing, And andulate the summer seas;
O'er the blue wave at evening spring, The Nautilus expands his sail,
And give those scales of silver white, And scuds before the fresh'oing breeze. So gaily to the eye of light,
As if thy frame were formed to rise, Oft is a little squadron seen
And live amid the glorious skies; Of mimic ships all rigg'd complete;
Oh it has made me proudly feel, Fancy might think the fairy queen. How like thy wing's impatient zeal Was sailing with her elfin fleet.
Is the pure soul, that scorns to rest
Upon the world's ignoble breast, With how much beauty is design'd
But takes the plume that God has given, Each channell'd bark of purest white! And rises into light and heaven! With orient pearl each cabin lined, Varying with every change of light.
But when I see that wing so bright, While with his little slender oars,
Grow languid with a moment's flight, His silken sail, and tapering mast,
Attempt the paths of air in vain, The dauntless mariner explores
And sink into the waves again; The dangers of the watery waste.
Alas! the flattering pride is o'er;
Like thee, awhile, the soul may soar, Prepared, should tempests rend the sky, But erring man must blush, to think, From harm his fragile bark to keep, Like thee, again, the soul may siok! He furls his sail, his var lays by,
Oh! Virtue, when thy clime I seek, And seeks his safety in the deep,
Let not my spirit's fight be weak :
Let me not, like this feeble thing, Then safe on ocean's shelly bed,
With brine still dropping from its wing, He hears the storm above him roar; Just sparkle in the solar glow, Mid groves of coral glowing red,
And plunge again to depths below: Or rocks o'erbung with madrepore.. But, when I leave the grosser throng
With whom my soul haib dwelt so lung, So let us catch life's favouring gale, Let me in that aspiring day, But if fate's adverse winds be rode,
Cast every lingering stain away, Take calmly in th' adventurous sail. And panting for thy purer air, And find repose in Solitude.
Fly up at once, and fix me there.
MILD is the Behemoth, though large his frame,
While onprovoked!—This native of the flood
Beyond the large Leviatban arise,
Its woods delight the eye, its hills arise,
Clothed in perpetual verdare.
And to crown the whole · Hail, noble Albion! where no golden mines, In one delightful word, which fills the breast No soft perfumes, nor oils, nor myrtle With all sweet hopes, and tender sympa. bowers,
thies The vigorous frame and lofty heart of man This pride of the creation is our home!Enervate: round whose stern cerulean brows Our father's, and our own dear native White-winged snow, and cloud, and pearly
land! rain, Freqnent attend, with solemn majesty! Rich queen of mists and vapours! these thy
sons With their cool arms compress; and twist
COWPER. their nerves
ENGLAND, with all thy faults, I love thee For deeds of excellence and high renown.
still : Thus form’d our Edwards, Henrys, Church
My country! and while yet a nook is left, hills, Blakes,
Where English minds and manners may be Our Lockes, onr Newtons, and our Miltons
Shall be constrained to love thee. Though See the sun gleams; the living pastures rise, thy clime After the nurture of the fallen shower,
Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed How beautiful! how blue th'ethereal vault, With dripping rains, or withered by a frost, How verdurous the lawns, how clear the
| I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, brooks!
And fields without a power, for warmer Such noble warlike steeds, such herds of kine,
France So sleek, so vast; such spacious flocks of With all her vines: nor for Ausonia's groves sheep,
Or golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers. Like fakes of gold illumining the green,
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime What other paradise adorn but thine,
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire Britannia? happy, if thy sons would know
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : Their happiness. To these thy naval streams,
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake Thy frequent towns superb of busy trade,
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart, And ports magnific add, and stately ships, As any thunderer there. Innumerous.
And sedulous to stop the coming tide,
ITALY. Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
COLDSMITH Onward methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected balwark seems to grow ; Far to the right where Appennine ascends, Spreads its long arms amidst the watery Bright as the summer, Italy extends ; roar,
Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's Scoops out an empire, and usorps the shore, side, While the pent ocean rising o'er the pile, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; Sees an amphibious world beneath him While oft some temple's mould'ring tops smile:
between The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale, With venerable grandear mark the scene. The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowned mart, the cultivated plain, Could nature's bounty satisfy the breast, A new creation rescued from his reign. The sons of Italy were surely blest.
Whatever fruits in different climes are
found, That proudly rise, or humbly court the
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, SWITZERLAND.
Whose bright succession decks the varied
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky TURN we to survey
With vernal lives, that blossom but to die ; Where rougher climes a nobler race display; These here disporting own the kindred soil, Where the bleak Swiss their stormy man- Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil; sion tread,
While sea-born gales their gelid wings ex-
The first dark day of nothingness, He sees his little lot, the lot of all,
The last of danger and distress,
The rapture of repose that's there,
That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now,
Appals the gazing 'mourner's heart, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's As it to him it could impart - roar,
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; But bind him to bis native mountains more. Yes, but for these, and these alone,