The SEQUESTERED BARD. An ELEGY.
Occafioned by the Death of WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Esq.

CLAD in a fable pall, how frowns the sky,
In negro-darkness o'er the visto'd scene:
Now fheeted sprights from restless graves do fly,
And now they trip it o'er the twilight green.

Perhaps till mindful of their wonted home,
Indulgent wait on dearest friends on earth,
In vehicles of air unseen they roam,

And oft frequent the place that gave them birth.
The well-tim'd aid of Vefper's twinkling urn,
Directs my steps to yonder time-struck towr,
There, as in fhort-liv'd paffion, oft I burn,
These melancholy mufings thus I pour:

Full many a flow'ret blufhing to the fun,

That scents the sweetness of the eastern morn,
Inglorious oft its little life does run,

Nor once the bofom of the fair adorn :

Or near the bubbling of fome weeping ftream,
Oft its fequefter'd fweetnefs did it breathe,
Where the coy damfel fleeps in pleafing dream,
Or where the decent graves in briery order heave.
Poetic youths in many an unknown home,
Mufing in penfive wailings oft we find,
Perhaps the thymy heath they faunt'ring roam,
Or court in wayward ftrains the fleeting wind.

The chilling blafts of icy winter's froft,
Too oft the virgin primrose nip fevere,
And many a friend by envy's breath is loft,
Nor claims a tribute of a figh fincere.

How many Shakespears have there liv'd alone,
And Drydens, thanklefs in their poorer day!
And many a penfive Gray we've seen, unknown,
Who to the world has fill refus'd his lay.

Haply, on Edgar's hallow'd lips, the fire
Of Dædal fancy might have charm'd the day:
Haply, the facred veh'mence of his lyre

Might chace the white-wing'd minutes faft away.

Yet

Yet ftill the breath of penury fevere,

Ah! too untimely, nipt the tender shoot-
If fuch the first attempt, then much we fear
The product of our pains, "The rip'ning fruit.",
The widow'd blackbird oft is heard to moan
Her hapless confort's melancholy fate,
And many a helpless fwain now droops forlorn
O'er the dusk lawn, and does this tale relate.

But still some breaft with generous ardour glows,
To guard fair science in this favour'd isle,
Not all to poetry alike are foes,

But deign the grace of an applauding smile.
'Twas SHENSTONE's choice to raife with gentleft care
The tender shoot of blooming fancy's tree;
To ftamp a genuine mark on what was rare,
And bid each muse-fir'd poet dare be free.'
How oft, as thro' + th' Arcadian groves he fray'd,
The glad'ning impulse did his foul inspire,
How oft reclining in the bow'ry shade,
Wake into extafy the mufe's lyre!

Sweet moralift! the pride of Albion's coaft,
Fell a fad victim to tyrannic death;

To Dodf-y, me, and to his country loft,

When SHENSTONE's tuneful lips refign'd their breath.

To thee, my SHENSTONE, gratitude fhall pay
This duteous tribute of a figh fincere,
And, true to honour's never-venal lay,
These accents fhall pursue thy facred bier.
Worcestershire.

PHILANDER.

An ODE on St. Cecilia's Day, adapted to the ancient British mufic, viz. the falt-box, the Jews harp, the marrow-bones and cleavers, the bum-ftrum or burdy-gurdy, &c. as it was performed on June 10, at Ranelagh. By Bonnel Thornton, Efq.

Cedite, Tibicines Itali, vos cedite, Galli;
Dico iterum vobis, cedite, Tibicines.
Cedite, Tibicines, vobis ter dico; quaterque
Jam vobis dico, cedite, Tibicines.

Alex. Heinfius.

* Witness his generbfity to a poor fhoemaker of Rowley, in that neighbourhood, whom he thought to have a great natural genius for poetry.

+ His gardens.

Tranflation of the Motto.

Yield, yield ye fidlers, French, Italians,
Yield, yield, I fay again-Rafcalions.
One, two, three times I fay, fidlers give o'er;
Yield ye, I now fay, times 1, 2, 3, 4.

PART I.

OVERTURE

RECITATIVE Accompanied.

E dumb, be dumb, ye inharmonious founds,

BE

And mufic, that the astonish'd ear with difcord wounds: No more let common rhymes prophane the day. GRAND CHORUS.

Grac'd with divine Cæcilia's name;
Let folemn hymns this aweful feaft proclaim,
And heavenly notes confpire to raise the heav'nly lay.
RECIT. Accompanied.

The meaner melody we fcorn,

Which vulgar inftruments afford; Shrill flute, fharp fiddle, bellowing horn, Rumbling baffoon, or tinkling harpsichord.

AIR.

In ftrains more exalted the falt-box fhall join,
And clattering, and battering, and clapping combine::
With a rap and a tap while the hollow fide founds,
Up and down leaps the flap, and with rattling rebounds..
RECITATIV E.

Strike, ftrike the foft Judaic harp,.
Soft and sharp, ̄

By teeth coercive in firm durance kept,.
And lightly by the volant finger swept.

AIR.

Buzzing twangs the iron lyre,
Shrilly thrilling,.

Trembling, trilling.

Whizzing with the wav'ring wire.

A GRAND SYMPHONY,.
Accompanied with marrow-bones and cleaver:.
AIR.

Hark, how the banging marrow-bones

Make clanging cleavers ring,

With a ding dong, ding dong,

Ding dong, ding dong,

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding.. Raise your uplifted arms on high;

In long-prolonged tones

Let cleavers found

A merry merry round

By banging marrow-bones.

FULL.

Hark, how the banging marrow-bones,

Make clanging cleavers ring;

With a ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong,

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding.
Raife your uplifted arms on high;

In long-prolonged tones

Let cleavers found

A merry merry round

By banging marrow-bones.

RECIT. Accompanied.

Ceafe, lighter numbers: Hither bring
The undulating ftring

Stretch'd out, and to the tumid bladder
In amity harmonious bound;

Then deeper fwell the notes and fadder,
And let the hoarfe bafe flowly folemn found.
AIR

With dead, dull, doleful, heavy hums,
With mournful moans,

And grievous groans,
The fober hurdy-gurdy thrums.

PART II.

RECIT. Accompanied.

WITH magic founds, like thefe, did Orpheus' lyre
Motion, fenfe, and life inspire;

When, as he play'd, the lift'ning flood
Still'd its loquacious waves, and filent stood;
The trees fwift-bounding danc'd with loofen'd ftumps,
And fluggish ftones caper'd in active jumps.
AIR.

Each ruddy-breasted robin

The concert bore a bob in,
And ev'ry hooting owl around;
The croaking frogs,

The grunting hogs,

All, all confpir'd to raise th' enliv'ning found.
RECITATIVE.

Now to Cæcilia, heav'nly maid,

Your loud united voices raise,

With folemn hymns to celebrate her praise,

Each inftrument fhall lend its aid.

This inftrument, by the learned, is fometimes called a hum ftrum.

R 3

The

The falt-box with clattering and clapping fhall found,
The iron lyre

Buzzing twang with wav'ring wire,
With heavy hum
The fober hurdy-gurdy thrum,
And the merry merry marrow-bones ring round.
LAST GRAND CHORUS.
Such matchlefs ftrains Cæcilia knew,
When audience from their heav'nly sphere,
By harmony's ftrong pow'r, fhe drew,
Whilft lift'ning angels gladly ftoop'd to hear.