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WHILE you, my Lord, the rural shades admire,
And from Britannia's public posts retire,
Nor longer, her ungrateful sons to please,
For their advantage sacrifice your ease;
Me into foreign realms my fate conveys,
Through nations fruitful of immortal lays,
Where the soft season and inviting clime
Conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme.

For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,
Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise,
Poetic fields encompass me around,
And still I seem to tread on classic ground;
For here the muse so oft her harp has strung,
That not a mountain rears its head unsung,
Renown'd in verse each shady thicket grows,
And ev'ry stream in heav'nly numbers flows.

How am I pleas'd to search the hills and woods
For rising springs and celebrated floods !
To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course,
And trace the smooth Clitumnus to his source,
VOL. VI.

D

Veder condur sua schiera d'acque il Mincio
Per lunghi giri di feconda ripa,
E d'Albula canuta il guado infetto
Suo caldo letto di fumante solfo.

Di mille estasi acceso io sopraveggio
Correre il Po per praterie fiorite
De fiumi re, che sovra i pian scorrendo,
Le torreggianti Alpi in natia muraglia.
Della meta di loro umore asciuga :
Superbo, e gonfio dell' hiberne nevi
L'abbondanza comparte ov'egli corre.
- Talor smarrito dal drappel sonoro
I rii rimiro immortalati in canto,
Che giaccionsi in silenzio, e obblio perduti,
(Muti i lor fonti son, secche lor vene,)
Pur, per senno di muse, ei son perenni,
Lor mormorio perenne in tersi carmi.

Talora al gentil Tebro io mi ritiro,
Le vote ripe del gran fiume ammiro,
Che privo di poter suo corso tragge
D'una gretta urna, e sterile sorgente;
Pur suona ei nelle bocche de poeti,
Sicche 'l miro al Danubio, e al Nil far scorno;
Cosi musa immortale in alto il leva.
Tal’ era il Boyne povero, ignobil fiume,
Che nelle Hiberne valli oscuro errava,
E inosservata in suoi giri scherzava.
Quando per vostri versi, e per le spada:
Di Nasso, rinomato, l'onde sue
Levate in alto pel mondo risuonano
Ovunque dello eroe le divin' opre,
E ove andra fama d'immortal verso.

Oh l'estatico mio petto inspirasse Musa con un furor simile al vostro! Infinite bellezze avria 'l mio verso, Cederia di Virgilio a quel l'Italia,

Mira quali auree selve attorno ridonmi, Che della tempestosa di Britannia

To see the Mincio draw his watry store
Through the long windings of a fruitful shore,
And hoary Albula's infected tide
O’er the warm bed of smoking sulphur glide.

Fir'd with a thousand raptures I survey
Eridamus through flow'ry meadows stray,
The king of floods! that rolling o'er the plains
The tow'ring Alps of half their moisture drains,
And proudly swoln with a whole winter's snows,
Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows.

Sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throng,
I look for streams immortalis'd in song,
That lost in silence and oblivion lie,
(Dumb are their fountains and their channels dry)
Yet run for ever by the muse's skill,
And in the smooth description murmur still.

Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire,
And the fam'd river's empty shores admire,
That destitute of strength derives its course

From thrifty urns and an unfruitful source; • Yet sung so often in poetic lays,

With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys; .
So high the deathless muse exalts her theme !
Such was the Boyne, a poor inglorious stream,
That in Hibernian vales obscurely stray’d,
And unobserv'd in wild Meanders play'd;
Till by your lines and Nassau's sword renown'd,
Its rising billows through the world resound,
Where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce,
Or where the fame of an immortal verse.

Oh could the muse my ravish'd breast inspire With warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire, Unnumber'd beauties in my verse should shine, And Virgil's Italy should yield to mine!

See how the golden groves around me smile, That shun the coast of Britain's stormy isle,

Isola si ne schivano la costa,
O trapiantate, e con pensier guardate
Maledicon la fredda regione,
E nell'aria del norte illanguidiscono.
Calor dolor il montante umor ne lievita
A nobil gusti, e piu esaltati odori.
Rozze ancor rupi molle mirto menano
Ricco profumo, peste erbette olezzano..
Portimi un dio di Baia a i gentil seggi,
O ne verdi ritiri d'Umbria traggami,
Ove i ponenti eterna han residenza.

Tutte stagioni lor pompa profondono,
Germogli, e frutti, e fiori insieme allegano,
E in gaia confusion sta l'anno tutto.

Glorie immortali in mia mente rivivono,
Combatton nel cuor mio ben mille affetti,
Allorache di Roma l'esaltate
Bellezze giu giacersi io ne discuopro,
Magnificenti in moli di ruine.
D'anfiteatro una stupenda altezza
Di terror mi riempie, e di diletto,
Che Roma ne suoi pubblici spettacoli
Dispopolava, e nazioni intere
Agiatamente in suo grembo capia.
Passanvi i ciel colonne aspre d’intaglio,
Di trionfo superbi archi la sorgono,
U de prischi Roman l’immortal' opre
Dispiegate alla vista ognor rinfacciano
La vile loro tralignata stirpe.
Qui tutti i fiumi lascian giu lor piani,
Per aerei condotti in alto corrono.

Sempre a novelle scene mia vagante
Musa si si ritragge, e muta ammira
L'alto spettacol d'animate rupi,
Ove mostro scalpel tutta sua forza,
Ed in carne addolci scabroso sasso.
In solenne silenzio, in maestade
Eroi staunosi, e dei, e Roman consoli:

Torvi

Or when transplanted and preserv'd with care,
Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air.
Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments
To nobler tastes and more exalted scents :
Ev'n the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
And trodden weeds send out a rich perfume.
Bear me, some god, to Baia's gentle seats,
Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats;
Where western gales eternally reside,
And all the seasons lavish all their pride:
Blossoms, and fruits, and flowers together rise,
And the whole year in gay confusion lies.

Immortal glories in my mind revive, And in my soul a thousand passions strive, When Rome's exalted beauties I descry Magnificent in piles of ruin lie. An amphitheatre's amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight, That on its public shows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb: Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skie And here the proud triumphal arches rise, Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd, Their base degenerate progeny upbraid: ; . Whole rivers here forsake the fields below, And wond'ring at their height through airy channels

flow.

Still to new scenes my wand'ring muse retires,
And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires;
Where the smooth chissel all its force has shown,
And soften’d into flesh the rugged stone.
In solemn silence, a majestic band,
Heroes, and gods, and Roman consuls stand,
Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown,

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