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BY PETER PINDAR.
W HILE the Shepherds are blithe on the green,
With sorrow I look on the scene,
But lo! the sweet maiden appears!
Ah, pleas'd, she descends from the stile;
And the pang of my heart, with a smile!
How could Phillida leave me forlorn!
With a frown—at the deed I would rail;
That chaces the gloom of the vale.
Thou thinkest it nothing to rove,
And loiter so long from my sight:
Is the loss of an age of Delight.
BY MR. MASON, OF CAMBEIDGE.
JTAR from her hallow'd grot, where, mildly
bright, The pointed crystals shot their trembling light; From dripping moss, where sparkling dew-drops
Where coral glow'd, where twin'd the wreathed
There cloud-crown'd Fame, here Peace,* sedate
and bland, Swell'd the loud trump, and wav'd the olive wand; While solemn domes, arch'd shades, and vistas
green, At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene.
On this the goddess cast an anxious look," Then dropp'd a tender tear, and thus she spoke: Yes, I could once with pleas'd attention trace The mimic charms of this prophetic vase; Then lift my head, and with enrUptur'd eyes "View on yon plain the real glories rise. Yes, Isis! oft hast thou rejoie'd to lead Thy liquid treasures o'er yon fav'rite mead: Oft hast thou stopp'd thy pearly car to gaze, While ev'ry Science nurs'd its growing bays; While ev'ry Youth, with Fame's strong impulse Press'd to the goal, and at the goal untir'd, [fir'd, Snatch'd each celestial wreath to bind his brow The Muses, Graces, Virtues, could bestow.
E'en now fond Fancy leads th' ideal train, And rank»her troops on Memory's ample plain; See! the firm leaders of my patriot line, See! Sidney, Raleigh, Hampden, Somers,shine. See Hough, superior to a tyrant's doom, Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome: Each soul whom truth could fire, or virtue move, Each breast strong panting with its country's love, All that to Albion gave their heart or head, That wisely counsell'd, or that bravely bled, All, all appear; on me they grateful smile, The well-earn'd prize of every virtuous toil To me with filial reverence they bring, And hang fresh trophies o'er my honour'd spring. Ah! I remember well yon beechen spray: There Addison first tun'd his polish'd lay; Twas there great Cato's form first met his eye, In all the pomp of free-born majesty; [awe, "My son," he cried, "observe this mien with • In solemn lines the strong resemblance draw; "The piercing notes shall strike each British ear; "Each British eye shall drop the patriot tear! VOL. II. e
"And, rous'd to glory by the nervous strain, "Eachyouth shall spurn at Slavery's abject reign; "Shall guard with Cato's zeal Britannia's laws, "And speak, and act, and bleed, in Freedom's "cause."
The hero spoke; the bard assenting bow'd i. The lay to Liberty and Cato flow'd; While Echo, as she rov'd the vale along, Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman song.
But, ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground, How mute attention check'd each rising sound, Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray, Scarce trill'd sweet Philomel her softest lay, When Locke walk'd musing forth! e'en now I view Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow; View Candour smile upon his modest cheek, And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break. 'Twas here the sage his manly zeal express'd, Here stripp'd vain Falsehood of her gaudy vest;