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Embrac'd thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd,
There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade.
Behold Andræmon and th' unhappy sire
Appear, and for their Dryope inquire;
A springing tree for Dryope they find,
And print warm kisses on the panting rind
Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,
And close embrace as to the roots they grew.
The face was all that how remain'd of thee.
No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
From every leaf distils a trickling tear,
And strait a voice, while yet a voice remains,
Thus through the trembling boughs in sighs com-
plains:

"If to the wretched any faith be given,
I swear by all th' unpitying powers of Heaven,
No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;
In mutual innocence our lives we led:

If this be false, let these new greens decay,
Let sounding axes lop my limbs away,
And crackling flames on all my honours prey!
But from my branching arms this infant bear,
Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care:
And to his mother let him oft be led,
Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed;
Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame
Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name,
To hail this tree; and say, with weeping eyes,
Within this plant my hapless parent lies:
And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,
Oh, let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,
Nor touch the fatal flowers; but warn'd by me,
Believe a goddess shrin'd in every tree.
My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell!
If in your breasts or love or pity dwell,
Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel
The browzing cattle, or the piercing steel.
Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join
My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.
My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive,
While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.

Crescentem truncum ramosque amplexa, morabar:
Et (fateor) volui sub eodem cortice condi.
Ecce vir Audræmon, genitorque miserrimus, adsunt;
Et quærunt Dryopen: Dryopen quærentibus illis
Ostendi loton. Tepido dant oscula ligno,
Adfusique suæ radicibus arboris hærent.
Nil nisi jam faciem, quod non foret arbor, habebat
Cara soror. Lacrymæ verso de corpore factis
Irrorant foliis ac dum licet, oraque præstant
Vocis iter, tales effundit in aëra questus.
Si qua fides miseris, hoc me per numina juro
Non meruisse nefas. Patior sine crimine pœnam.
Viximus innocuæ: si mentior, arida perdam,
Quas habeo, frondes; et cæsa securibus urar.
Hunc tamen infantem maternis demite ramis,
Et date nutrici; nostraque sub arbore sæpe
Lac facitote bibat; nostraque sub arbore ludat.
Cumque loqui poterit, inatrem facitote salutet,
Et tristis dicat: Latet hoc sub stipite mater.
Stagna tamen timeat; nec carpat ab arbore flores:
Et frutices omnes corpus putet esse Dearum.
Care, vale, conjux, et tu germana, paterque !
Quis si qua est pietas, ab acutæ vulnere falcis,
A pecoris morsu frondes defendite nostras.
Et quoniam mihi fas ad vos incumbere non est,
Erigite huc artus, et ad oscula nostra venite,
Dum tangi possunt, parvumque attollite natum,

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VERTUMNUS AND POMONA.

FROM OVID'S METAMORPHOSES, BOOK IV. THE fair Pomona flourish'd in 'is reign; Of all the virgins of the sylvan train, None taught the trees a nobler race to bear, Or more improv'd the vegetable care. To her the shady grove, the flowery field, The streams and fountains, no delights could yield 'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend, And see the boughs with happy burthens bend. The book she bore instead of Cynthia's spear, To lop the growth of the luxuriant year, To decent form the lawless shoots to bring, And teach th' obedient branches where to spring. Now the cleft rind inserted graffs receives, And yields an offspring more than Nature gives; Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew, And feed their fibres with reviving dew.

These cares alone her virgin breast employ, Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy. Her private orchards, wall'd on every side, To lawless sylvans all access deny'd. How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns, The god whose ensign scares the birds of prey, Who haunt the forest, or frequent the lawns, And old Silenus, youthful in decay, Employ'd their wiles and unavailing care, To pass the fences, and surprise the fair! Like these, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame, Like these, rejected by the scornful dame.

REGE Sub hoc Pomona fuit: quâ nulla Latinas
Inter Hamadryadas coluit solertius hortos,
Nec fuit arborei studiosior altera fœtûs:
Unde tenet nomen. Non sylvas illa, nec amnes;
Rus amat, et ramos felicia poma ferentes.
Nec jaculo gravis est, sed aduncâ dextera falce:
Quâ modò luxuriem premit, et spatiantia passim
Brachia compescit; fissâ modò cortice virgam
Inserit; et succos alieno præstat alumno.
Nec patitur sentire sitim; bibulæque recurvas
Radicis fibras labentibus irrigat undis. [cupido.
Hic amor, hoc studium: Veneris quoque nulla
Vim tamen agrestûm metuens, pomaria claudit
Intus, et accessus prohibet, refugitque viriles.
Quid non et Satyri, saltatibus apta juventus,
Fecere, et pinu præcincti cornua Panes,
Sylvanusque suis semper juvenilior annis,
Quique Deus fures, vel falce, vel inguine terret,
Ut potirentur eâ? sed enim superabat amando `
Hos quoque Vertumnus: neque erat felicior illis.

To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears:
And first à reaper from the field appears,
Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain.
Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
And wreaths of hay his sun-burnt temples shade:
Oft in his harden'd band a goad he bears,
Like one who late unyoak'd the sweating steers.
Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines.
Now gathering what the bounteous year allows,
He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs.
A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
A fisher next, his trembling angle bears.
Fach shape he varies, and each art he tries,
On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.

Not she whose beauty urg'd the Centaur's arms,
Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charts.
Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
A thousand court you, though they court in vain,
A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,
That haunt our mountains, and our Alban woods.
But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise,
Whom age and loug experience render wise,
And one whose tender care is far above
All that these lovers ever felt of love,

A female form at last Vertumnus wears, With all the marks of reverend age appears, His temples thinly spread with silver hairs: Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes, A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows. The god, in this decrepit form array'd, The gardens enter'd, and the fruit survey'd ; And "Happy you?" (he thus address'd the maid) "Whose charms as far all other nymphs out-shine, As other gardens are excell'd by thine !" Then kiss'd the fair; (his kisses warmer grow Than such as women on their sex bestow ;) Then, plac'd beside her on the flowery ground, Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd. An elm was near, to whose embraces led, The curling vine her swelling clusters spread : He view'd her twining branches with delight, And prais'd the beauty of the pleasing sight.

"Yet this tall elm, but for his vine" (he said) "Had stood neglected, and a barren shade; And this fair vine, but that her arms surround Her marry'd elm, had crept along the ground. Ah, beauteous maid! let this example move Your mind, averse from all the joys of love: Deign to be lov'd, and every heart subdue! What nymph could e'er attract such crouds as you?

O quoties habitu duri messoris aristas
Corbe tulit, verique fuit messoris imago!
Tempora sæpe gerens fœno religata recenti,
Defectum poterat gramen versasse videri.
Sæpe manu stimulos rigida portabat; ut illum
Jurares fessos modo disjunxisse juvencos.
Falce data frondator erat, vitisque putator:
Induerat scalas, lecturum poma putares :
Miles erat gladio, piscator arundine sumpta.
Denique per multas aditum sibi sæpe figuras
Reperit, ut caperet spectatæ gaudia formæ.
Ille etiam picta redimitus tempora mitra,
Innitens baculo, positis ad teinpora canis,
Adsimulavit anum: cultosque intravit in hortos;
Pomaque mirata e t: Tantoque potentior, inquit,
Omnibus es nymphis, quas continet Albula ripis ;
Salve, virginei flos intemerate pudoris.
Paucaque laudatæ dedit oscula; qualia nunquam
Vera dedisset anus: glebaque incurva resedit,
Suspiciens pandos autumni pondere ramos.
Ulmus erat contra, spatiosa tumentibus uvis :
Quam socia postquam pariter cum vite probavit ;
At si staret, ait, cælebs, sine palmite truncus,
Nil præter frondes, quare peteretur, haberet.
Hæc quoque, quæ juncta vitis requiescit in ulmo,
Si non nupta foret, terræ adelinata jaceret.
Tu tamen exemplo non tangeris arboris hujus,
Concubitusque fugis: nec te conjungere curas.
VOL. XII.

P

(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd)
Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest.
For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
Like you, contented with his native groves;
Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair;
For you he lives; and you alone shall share
His last affection, as his early care.
Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,
With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
But what should most excite a mutual flame,
Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.
To him your orchard's early fruit are due,
(A pleasing offering when 'tis made by you)
He values these; but yet (alas!) complains,
That still the best and dearest gift remains.
Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows
With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows;
Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
You, only you, can move the god's desire:
Oh, crown so constant and so pure a fire!
Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind :
So may no frost, when early buds appear,
Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,
Shake the light blossoins from their blasted boughs!"
This when the various god had urg'd in vain,
He straight assum'd his native form again;

Atque utinam velles! Helene non pluribus esset
Sollicitata procis: nec quæ Lapitheïa movit
Prolia, nec conjux timidis audacis Ulyssei.
Nunc quoque, cum fugias averserisque petentes
Mille proci cupiunt; et semideique deique,
Et quæcunque tenent Albanos numina montes.
Sed tu, si sapies, si te bene jungere, anumque
Hanc audire voles, (quæ te plus omnibus illis
Plus quam credis, amo) vulgares rejice tædas :
Vertumnumque tori socium tibi selige: pro quo
Me quoque pignus habe, neque enim sibi notior ille
Quam mihi, nec toto passim vagus errat in orbe. [est,
Hæc loca sola colit; nec, uti pars magna procorum,
Quam modo vidit, amat. tu primus et ultimus illi
Ardor eris; solique suos tibi devovet annos.
Adde, quod est juvenis: quod naturale decoris
Munus habet; formasque apte fingetur in omnes:
Et, quod erit jussus (jubeas licet omnia) fiet. [tur,
Quid,quod amatis idem? quod, quæ tibi poma colun-
Primus habet; lætaque tenet tua munera dextra?
Sed neque jam fœtus desiderat arbore demtos,
Nec, quas hortus alit, cum succis mitibus herbas;
Nec quidquam, nisi te. miserere ardentis: et ipsum,
Qui petit, ore meo præsentem crede precari.-
Sic tibi nec vernum nascentia frigus adurat
Poma; nec excutiant rapidi florentia venti.

Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
As when through clouds th' emerging Sun appears,
And, thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design:
For when, appearing in a form divine,
The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace
Of charming features, and a youthful face;
In her soft breast consenting passions move,
And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.

Hæc ubi nequicquam formas Deus aptus in omnes, Edidit; in juvenem redit: et anilia demit Instrumenta sibi: talisque adparuit illi, Qualis ubi oppositas nitidissima solis imago Evicit nubes, nullaque obstante reluxit. Vimque parat: sed vi non est opus: inque figura Capta dei nympha est, et mutua vulnera sentit.

IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS.
DONE BY THE AUTHOR IN HIS YOUTH.

CHAUCER.

WOMEN ben full of ragerie,
Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
Thilke moral shall ye understond,
From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the fennes hath him betake,
To filch the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowsers hath he hent,
Not to be spied of ladies gent.

But ho! our nephew," (cricth one) "Ho!" 66 quoth another, cozen John;" And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,This silly clerk full low doth lout: They asken that, and talken this, "Lo here is coz, and here is miss." But, as he glozeth with speeches soote, The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote: Fore-piece and buttons all to-brest, Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest. "Te-he," cry'd ladies; clerke nought spake: Miss star'd; and gray ducke eryeth “Quaake." "O moder, moder," (quoth the daughter)

Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
Bette is to pine on coals and chalke,
Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke."

SPENSER.

THE ALLEY.

In every town where Thamis rolls his tyde,
A narrow pass there is, with houses low;
Where, ever and anon, the stream is ey'd,
And many a boat soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of infant Woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller
How can ye, mothers, vex your children so? [squall:
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry.

At every door are sun-burnt matrons seen
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry,
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbour
hood I ween.

The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, shrilling cries;
The scolding quean to louder notes don rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies ;
The grunting bogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base
are drown'd.

Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice
There learn'd she speech from tongues that never
Slander beside her, like a magpie, chatters, [cease,
With Envy, (spitting cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd cur, Malice before her clatters,
Aud, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to

tatters.

Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bull-dog's at the stall:
She scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, c'en the parts of shame by name would call
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitche
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown;
And Twickenham such, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, statues, urns, and Jo-n's dog and bitch.
Ne village is without, on either side,

All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd
Vales, spires, meandering streams, and Windsor's
towery pride.

WALLER.

OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE. FAIR charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize. A heart resign'd the conquest of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once assail. We were too blest with these enchanting lays, Which must be heavenly when an angel plays: But killing charms your lover's death contrive, Lest heavenly music should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees; but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he A poet made the silent wood pursue, This vocal wood had drawn the poet too.

ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN, IN WHICH WAS PAINTED THE STORY OF CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS WITH THE MOTTO, AURA VENI.

"COME, gentle air!" th' Folian shepherd said, While Procris panted in the secret shade; "Come, gentle air," the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies.

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COWLEY.

THE GARDEN.

FAIN would my Muse the flowery treasure'sing,
And humble glories of the youthful Spring:
Where opening roses breathing sweets diffuse,
And soft carnations shower their balmy dews;
Where lilies smile in virgin robes of white,
The thin undress of superficial Light,
And vary'd tulips show so dazzling gay,
Blushing in bright diversities of day.
Each painted flowret in the lake below
Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narcissus on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees cathedral walks compose,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;
There the green infants in their beds are laid,
The garden's hope, and its expected shade.
Here orange trees with blooms and pendants
shine,

And vernal honours to their autumn join;
Exceed their promise in their ripen'd store,
Yet in the rising blossom promise more.
There in bright drops the crystal fountains play,
By laurels shielded from the piercing day:
Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Nor seeks in vain for succour to the stream;
The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves,
At once a shelter from her bou, hs receives,
Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
And Winter's coolness spite of Summer's rays.

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E. OF ROCHESTER.

ON SILENCE.

SILENCE! Coeval with eternity,

Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be; 'Twas one vast nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee. Thine was the sway, ere Heaven was form'd or Earth,

Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd Creation's birth, Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth. Then various elements against thee join'd, In one more various animal combin'd, [kind. And fram'd the clamorous race of busy humanThe tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low, Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show, And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.

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Like some free port of trade; Merchants unloaded here their freight, And agents from each foreign state

Here first their entry made.
Her learning and good-breeding such,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniards or French came to her,
To all obliging she'd appear:
'Twas Si Signior, 'twas Yaw Mynheer,
'Twas S'il vous plaist, Monsieur.
Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
Still Changing names, religion, climes,
At length she turns a bride:
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades,

And flutters in her pride.

So have I known those insects fair
(Which curious Germans hold so rare
Still vary shapes and dyes;
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
Then painted butterflies.

DR. SWIFT.

THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.
PARSON, these things in thy possessing,
Are better than the bishop's blessing.
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need:
October store, and best Virginia,
Tythe pig, and mortuary guinea:
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd;
A large concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince:
A chronicle of ancient standing;
A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in.
The polyglott-three parts,-my text,
Howbeit,-likewise-now to my next.
Lo here the Septuagint,-and Paul,
To sum the whole,-the close of all.

He that has these, may pass his life, Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife; On Sundays preach, and eat his fill; And fast on Fridays-if he will; Toast church and queen, explain the news, Talk with church-wardens about pews; Pray heartily for some new gift, And shake his head at Doctor Swift.

AN ESSAY ON SATIRE, OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MR. POPE.

INSCRIBED TO MR. WARBURTON.

BY J. BROWN, A. M.

CONTENTS.

PART 1. Of the end and efficacy of satire. The love of glory and fear of shame universal, ver. 29. This passion, implanted in man as a spur to virtue, is generally perverted, ver. 41. And thus becomes the occasion of the greatest follies, vices, and miseries, ver. 61. It is the work of satire to rectify this passion, to reduce it to its proper channel, and to convert it into an incentive to wisdom and virtue, ver. 89. Hence it appears, that satire may influence those who defy all laws human and divine, ver. 99. An objection answered, ver. 131.

PART II. Rules for the conduct of satire. Justice and truth its chief and essential property, ver. 169. Prudence in the application of wit and ridicule, whose province is, not to explore unknown, but to enforce known truths, ver. 191. Proper subjects of satire are the manners of present times, ver. 239. Decency of expression recommended, ver. 255. The dif ferent methods in which folly and vice ought to be chastised, ver. 269. The variety of style and manners which these two subjects require, ver. 277. The praise of virtue may be adinitted with propriety, ver. 315. Caution with regard to panegyric, ver. 329. The dig nity of true satire, ver. 341.

PART III. The history of satire. Roman satirists, Lucilius, Horace, Persius, Juvenal, ver. 257, &c. Causes of the decay of literature, particularly of satire, ver. 389. Revival of satire, 401. Erasmus one of its principal restorers, ver. 405. Donne, ver. 411. The abuse of satire in England, during the licentious reign of Charles II ver. 415. Dryd‹ -, ver. 429. The true ends of satire pursued by Boileau in France, ver. 439. and by Mr. Pope in England, ver. 445.

PART I.

FATE gave the word: the cruel arrow sped;
And Pope lies number'd with the mighty dead!
Resign'd he fell; superior to the dart,
That quench'd its rage in yours and Britain's heart:
You mourn but Britain, lull'd in rest profound,
(Unconscious Britain !) slumbers o'er her wound.
Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting light,

And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the night:
Rous'd at the signal, Guilt collects her train,
And counts the triumphs of her growing reign: 10
With inextinguishable rage they burn;
And snake-hung Envy hisses o'er his urn:
Th' envenom'd monsters spit their deadly foam,
To blast the laurel that surrounds his tomb.

But you, O Warburton! whose eye refin'd Can see the greatness of an honest mind; Can see each virtue and each grace unite, And taste the raptures of a pure delight;

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