And then a thousand deaths at once advanc'd,
And every dart took place. All was so sud-I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave;
And all his gifts though small, yet spoke his

So large, he seem'd the tyrant of the woods,
With all his dreadful bristles rais'd up high;
They seem'd a grove of spears upon his back:
Foaming he came at me where I was posted, That bears the thunder of our grandsire Jove,

With joy beholds his hardy youthful offspring |
Forsake the nest, to try his tender pinions
In the wide untrack'd air; till, bolder grown,
Now, like a whirlwind on a shepherd's fold,
He darts precipitate, and gripes the prey;
Or fixing on some dragon's scaly hide,
Eager of combat, and his future feast,
Bears him aloft reluctant, and in vain
Wreathing his spiry tail.

§ 26. Filial Piety. MALLET.
E'ER since reflection beam'd her light upon

But first and ever nearest to my heart
Was this prime duty, so to frame my conduct
Tow'rd such a father, as were I a father,
My soul would wish to meet with from a son.
And may reproach transmit my name abhorr'd
To latest time-if ever thought was mine
Unjust to filial reverence, filial love!

§ 27. Bad Fortune more easily borne than
good. RowE.

WITH Such unshaken temper of the soul
To bear the swelling tide of prosp'rous fortune,
Is to deserve that fortune.-In adversity
The mind grows tough by buffeting the tem-
But in success dissolving, sinks to ease, [pest;
And loses all her firmness.

30. Happiness the inseparable Companion
of Virtue. ROWE.

To be good is to be happy; angels
Are happier than men, because they're better.
Guilt is the source of sorrow; 'tis the fiend,
Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind
With whips and stings: the blest know none
of this,

But rest in everlasting peace of mind, [ness.
And find the height of all their heaven is good-

[breathe

31. The true End of Life. THOMSON.
WHO, who would live, my Narva, just to
This idle air, and indolently run,
|Day after day, the still returning round
Of life's mean offices, and sickly joys?
But in the service of mankind to be
A guardian god below; still to employ
The mind's brave ardor in heroic arms,
Such as may raise us o'er the grovelling herd,
And make us shine for ever-that is life.

$32. The same. S. JOHNSON. REFLECT that life and death, affecting sounds,

virtue.

Are only varied modes of endless being.
Reflect that life, like every other blessing,
Derives its value from its use alone;
Nor for itself, but for a nobler end,
When inconsistent with a greater good,
Th' Eternal gave it, and that end
Reason commands to cast the less away;
Thus life, without loss of wealth, is well pre-
serv'd,

And virtue cheaply sav'd with loss of life.

§ 33. Character of an excellent Man. ROWE.

How could my tongue

$28. A Friend to Freedom can never be a Take pleasure, and be lavish in thy praise!

Traitor. THOMSON.

He who contends for freedom,

How could I speak thy nobleness of nature!
Thy open, manly heart, thy courage, constancy,
Can ne'er be justly deem'd his sovereign's foe; And inborn truth, unknowing to dissemble!
No! 'Tis the wretch who tempts him to sub-Thou art the man in whom my soul delights,
vert it,
In whom, next Heaven, I trust.

The soothing slave, the traitor in the bosom,
Who best deserves that name; he is a worm$34. Virtue the only true Source of Nobility.
That eats out all the happiness of kingdoms.

THOMSON.

I TELL thee, then, whoe'er amidst the sons
Of reason, valor, liberty, and virtue,
Displays distinguish'd merit, is a noble
Of nature's own creating. Such have risen,
Sprung from the dust, or where had been our

honors ?

29. Description of a Hag. OTWAY. In a close lane, as I pursu'd my journey, I spied a wither'd hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself; Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red, [wither'd, And such, in radiant bands, will rise again Cold palsy shook her head, her hand seem'd In yon immortal city; that, when most And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd Deprest by fate, and near apparent ruin, The tatter'd remnants of an old strip'd hang- Returns, as with an energy divine, [her. ing, [cold: On her astonish'd foes, and shakes them from

Which serv'd to keep her carcass from the
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd
With different color'd rags, black, red, white,
yellow,

And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.

§ 35. The happy Effects of Misfortune. THOMSON.

IF misfortune comes, she brings along The bravest virtues. And so many great Illustrious spirits have convers'd with woe,

Have in her school been taught, as are enough
To consecrate distress, and make ambition
E'en wish the frown beyond the smile of for-

tune.

36. A Description of the Morning.

OTWAY.

WISH'D morning 's come; and now upon the plains, [flocks, And distant mountains, where they feed their The happy shepherds leave their homely huts, And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day:

May darken reason and her course control;
But when the prospect clears, her startled eye
Must from the treach'rous gulf with horror fly,
On whose wide wave by stormy passions tost,
So many helpless wretches have been lost.
Then be this truth the star by which we steer
Above ourselves our country shall be dear.

40. The same. W. WHITEHEAD. LEARN hence, ye Romans! on how sure a

base

The patriot builds his happiness; no stroke,
No keenest, deadliest shaft of adverse fate
Can make his generous bosom quite despair,

The lusty swain comes with his well-fill'd scrip Of healthful viands, which, when hunger But that alone by which his country falls. calls,

With much content and appetite he eats,

Grief may to grief in endless round succeed,
And nature suffer when our children bleed :

To follow in the field his daily toil, [fruits: Yet still superior must that hero prove,
And dress the grateful glebe that yields him Whose first, best passion, is his country's love
The beasts, that under the warm hedges slept,|
And weather'd out the cold bleak night, are
[tures, raise

up; And, looking tow'rds the neighboring pasTheir voice, and bid their fellow brutes good

morrow:

The cheerful birds too on the tops of trees
Assemble all in choirs; and with their notes
Salute and welcome up the rising sun.

37. The charming Notes of the Nightin-
gale. LEE.

41. In what Philosophy really consists. THOMSON

PHILOSOPHY consists not

In airy schemes or idle speculations.
The rule and conduct of all social life
Is her great province. Not in lonely cells
Obscure she lurks, but holds her heavenly light
To senates and to kings, to guide their coun
sels,

And teach them to reform and bless mankind. All policy but hers is false and rotten; THUS, in some poplar shade, the nightingale All valor not conducted by her precepts With piercing moans does her lost young Is a destroying fury sent from hell," To plague unhappy man, and ruin nations.

bewail:

Which the rough hind observing, as they lay
Warm in their downy nest had stolen away:
But she in mournful sounds does still complain,
Sings all the night, though all her songs are
And still renews her miserable strain. [vain,

§ 38. The same. RowE.

$42.

Scipio restoring the captive Princess to her Royal Lover. THOMSON.

WHAT with admiration Struck every heart, was this: A noble virgin Conspicuous far o'er all the captive dames, Was mark'd the general's prize. She wept and blush'd, [An eye, Young, fresh, and blooming like the morn As when the blue sky trembles through a cloud

So when the spring renews the flow'ry field, And warns the pregnant nightingale to build; She seeks the safest shelter of the wood, Where she may trust her little tuneful brood, Where no rude swains her shady cell may Of purest white. A secret charm combin'd [blow: Her features, and infus'd enchantment through

know,

By nature lavish'd on her, that mankind
Might see the virtue of a hero tried
Almost beyond the stretch of human force.
Soft as she pass'd along, with downcast eyes,
Where gentle sorrows swell'd, and now and
then

His only plot was this: that, much provok'd, [try: Dropp'd o'er her modest cheek a trickling tear, He rais'd his vengeful arm against his coun- The Roman legions languish'd, and hard war And lo! the righteous gods have now chas- Felt more than pity. E'en their chief him1 tis'd him [fought. As on his high tribunal rais'd he sat, [self, Even by the hands of those for whom he Turn'd from the dang'rous sight, and chiding Whatever private views and passions plead, His officers, if by this gift they meant [ask'd No cause can justify so black a deed: [soul, To cloud his virtue in its very dawn. These, when the angry tempest, clouds the

She, question'd of her birth, in trembling ac- Whose out-blow'd bellies cut the yielding seas.

The object I could first distinctly view, [flew: And prune their feathers in his golden beams; Was tall, straight trees, which on the water So did your subjects, in their gaudy trim, Wings on their sides instead of leaves did Upon the pendant branches speak his praise. grow, [blow: Mothers, who cover'd all the banks beneath, Which gather'd all the breath the winds could Did rob the crying infants of the breast, And at their roots grew floating palaces, Pointing Ziphares out, to make them smile;

And climbing boys stood on their fathers'
shoulders,
[cries,
Answering their shouting sires with tender
To make the concert up of general joy.

48. A Shepherd's Life happier than a
King's. HILL.

Per. [Throwing off his cloak.] Pardon, gentle lady! Bold as may seem

[here, audacious? El. Ha! do I wake ?-What dost thou At midnight!-Hence, rash youth! with speed, begone! [thou, slave, Hence or I wake the house. How darest

TH' unbusied shepherd, stretch'd beneath Steal on the secrets of my worship ?—Fly!

And idly waistling while his sheep feed round him,

Enjoys a sweeter shade than that of canopies Hemm'd in with cares, and shook by storms of treason.

$49. Virtue its own Reward. RowE. GREAT minds, like Heav'n, are pleas'd with

doing good,

Though the ungrateful subjects of their favors
Are barren in return. Virtue does still
With scorn the mercenary world regard,
Where abject souls do good, and hope reward.
Above the worthless trophies man can raise,
She seeks not honor, wealth, nor airy praise,
But with herself, herself the goddess pays.

Thy very life may answer such an outrage.
Per. Sweet lady, hear me.
El. Quit this place.
Per. One word-

[so abased
El. Heavens! is the Neville's daughter
That grooms dispute her chamber ?-Ho?
Per. Nay then-

But, by my soul's eternal hope, I swear
In gratitude, in honor, but to say
Farewell, I came.
El. How?

Per. No matter

[above, when we meet againThou 'lt better know me. God be with you lady. [Takes his lamp, going. El. Nay, now, I know not what thou Per. Sweet saint, [meanest.

I would have told thee.

El. Goest thou from our service? [urge Per. Thus to interpret !-Sooner would I Guilt to a glowing Cherub, perish in his glance,

§ 50. No Difficulties insuperable to the Pru-Than sully, but in thought, thy purity.

dent and Brave. RowE.

THE wise and active conquer difficulties By daring to attempt them: sloth and folly Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard, And make th' impossibility they fear.

51. Percy and Elinor.-From Percy's Masque. HILLHOUSE.

An oratory opening into Elinor's chamber. A missal spread upon the altar, before a crucifix: over it a large picture of the Virgin. Elinor kneeling, and singing to her harp. Elinor.

O, holy Virgin, call thy child,

Her spirit longs to be with thee,
For, threatening lower those skies so mild,
Whose faithless day-star dawned for me.
From tears released to speedy rest,
From youthful dreams which all beguiled,
To quiet slumber on thy breast,

O, holy Virgin, call thy child.
Joy from my darkling soul is fled,

And haggard phantoms hunt me wild; Despair assails, and hope is dead :

O, holy Virgin, call thy child.

[As the sound of her harp ceases, the picture
slides, discovering Percy, wrapped in a
cloak, with a lamp. She starts.
Grace keep us!

Per. Fear not, lady; angel guardians
Surround by night the bower of Innocence :
Mortal nor spirit evil durst profane it.
[Springs down.

El. What apparition ?—

El. If I have done injustice-
Per. Speak; I pause.

El. What canst thou have to say?
Per. Thanks, thanks unnumbered,
Blessings unspeakable for all thy favors.
Shrined here while life beats-worshipped,
they will dwell,

Altho' thy beauty I behold no more.
El. No more!

Per. My heart is full-yet scarce→→→→
Thou know'st, when I became an inmate here,
I called myself an orphan; desolate;

In the wide earth alone. So far, thou heard'st
A mournful truth; yet I deceived you.
El. Ha!