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Thy sons, for valour long renown'd,
Lie slaughter'd on their native ground;
Thy hospitable roofs no more
Invite the stranger to the door;
In sinoaky ruins sunk they lie.
The monuments of cruelty.


The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war; Bethinks him of his babes and wise, Then smites his breast, and curses lise. Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks, Where once they sed their wanton stocks: Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain; Thy infants perish on the plain.


What boots it then, in every clime, Thro' the wide spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiministi'd blaze? Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke, Thy neck is Dended to the yoke. What foreign arms could never quell, By civil rage, and rancour sell.


The rural pipe, and merry lay, No more shall chear the happy day: No social scenes of gay delight Beguile the dreary winter night: No strains but those of sorrow flow, And nought be heard but sounds of woe; While the pale phantoms of the stain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain.


Oh banesul cause, oh! fatal morn,
Accurs'd to ages yet unborn i
The sons against their fathers stood,
The parent shed his children's blood.
Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd,
The victors souls were not appeas'd;
The naked and forlorn must seel
Devouring slames, and murd'ring steel!


The pious mother, doom'd to death,
Forfaken, wanders o'er the heath.
The bleak wind whistles round her head;
Her helpless orphans cry for bread;
Bereft of shelter, food, and friend,
She views the shades of night descend,
And, stretch'd beneath inclement skies,
Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.


Whilst the warm blood bedews my veins
And unimpair'd remembrance reigns;
Resentment of my country's fate,
Within my silial breast shall beat;
And, spite of her insulting foe,
My sympathizing verse shall flow,
"Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn
«' Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn."

Love as we have already observed, is likewise one of the proper subjects for this kind of poem. An example of which we shall give from the love Elegies lately publish'd by Mr. Hammond.

A Love Elegy.

Let others boast their heaps of shining gold,

And view their sields with waving plenty crown'd,

Whom neighb'ring foes in constant terror hold,
And trumpets break their slumbers, never found:


While, calmly poor, I trifle lise away,
Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearsul sire,

No wanton hope my quiet shall betray,
But cheaply bless'd i'U scorn each vain desire.


With timely care I'll sow my little sield,

And plant my orchard with its master's hand,

Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield,
Or range the sheaves along the sunny land.


If late at duik, while carelessly I roam,
I meet a strolling kid, or bleating Iamb,

Under my arm I'll bring the wand'rer home,
And not a little chide its thoughtless dam.


What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain,
And clasp a searsul mistress to my breast?

Or lull'd to flumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy sink at last to rest.


Or if the sun in flaming Leo ride,

By shady rivers indolently stray,
And with my Delia walking side by fide,

Hear how they murmur, as they glide away.


What joy to wind along the cool retreat,
To stop and gaze on Delia as I go!

To mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet,
And teach my lovely scholar all I know!


Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream,

In silent happiness I rest unknown; Content with what I am, not what I seem,

I Jive for Delia, and myself alone.


Ah foolish man! who thus of her possess'd, Could float and wander with ambition's wind,

And if his outward trappings spoke him blest, Not heed the sickness of his conscious mind. X.

With her I scorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor trust to happiness that's not our own,

The smile of fortune might suspicion raise,
But here I know that I am lov'd alone.


Stanhope, in wisdom as in wit divine,

May rise, and plead Britannia* glorious cause,.

VVith steady rein his eager wit consine,

While manly sense the deep attention draws..


Let Stanhope spes . his list'ning country's wrong,iMy humble voice thall please one partial maid i

For her alone, I pen my tender si .ig,
Securely sitting in his friendly stiade..


Stanhope shall come, and grace his rural friend,
Delia shall wonder at her noble guest,

With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her husband's patron cull the best..


Hei's be the care of all my little train,
While I with tender indolence am blest,.

The savourite subject of her gentle reign,
By love alone distinguish'd from the rest.


For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plow,
Ii> gloomy forests tend my lonely stock,

For her a goat-herd climb the mountain's brow,
And sleep extended on the naked rock.


Ah! what avails to press the stately bed,

And far from her 'midst tasteless grandeur weep>

By warbling fountains lay the pensive head,

And, while they murmur, strive in vain to sleep! XVII.

Delia alone can please and never tire,
Exceed the paint of thought in true delight,

With her, enjoyment wakens new desire,
And equal rapture glows thro' every night.


Beauty and worth, alone in her, contend,
To charm the fancy, and to six the mind;

In her, my wise, my mistress, and my friend,
I taste the joys of sense, and reason join'd.


On her I'll gaze when others loves are o'er,

And dying, press her with my clay-cold hand ——

Thou weep'st already, as I were no more,

Nor can that gentle breast the thought withstand.


Oh! when I die, my latest moments spare,
Nor let thy grief with sharper torments kill;

Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair,
Tho' Tarn dead, my foul shall love thee still.


Oh quit the room, oh quit the deathsul bed,
Or thou wilt die, so tender is thy heart!

Oh leave me, Delia! ere thou see me dead,
These weeping friends will do tby mournsul part.


Let them, extended on the decent bier,

Convey the corse in melancholy state, Thro' all the village spread the tender tear,

While pitying maids our wond'rous loves relate.

But every species of poetry, however serious, may admit of humour and burlesque. Examples of which we have given in the Epigram, and Epitaph, and we shall conclude this chapter with a burlesque elegy, written by Dr. Swi/t.

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