Sportive; while oft the gaunt and rugged wolf Turn'd her stretch'd neck and form'd your tender limbs ; So taught of Jove e'en the fell savage fed Her speedy growth alarm'd the states around, To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebia quell'd, Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie, Withers each nerve, and opens every pore Swift is the flight of wealth; unnumber'd wants, | Didius *, vile usurer, through the crowd he mounts, Beneath his feet the Roman eagle cowers, And the red arrows fill his grasp uncouth. O Britons, O my countrymen, beware; He cleaves the yielding skies! Cæsar meanwhile But see along the north the tempests swell Vain end of human strength, of human skill, Conquest, and triumph, and domain, and pomp, And ease, and luxury! O Luxury, Bane of elated life, of affluent states, What dreary change, what ruin is not thine? How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind! To the soft entrance of thy rosy cave How dost thou lure the fortunate and great! Dreadful attraction! while behind thee gapes Th' unfathomable gulph where Asher lies O'erwhelm'd, forgotten; and high-boasting Cham; And Elam's haughty pomp; and beauteous Greece; And the great queen of Earth, imperial Rome. * Didius Julianus, who bought the empire. WILLIAM SHENSTONE. W WILLIAM SHENSTONE, a popular and agreeable the life which he invariably pursued, and which poet, was born at Hales-Owen, Shropshire, in 1714. His father was an uneducated gentleman farmer, who cultivated an estate of his own, called the Leasowes. William, after passing through other instruction, was removed to that of a clergyman at Solihull, from whom he acquired a fund of classical literature, together with a taste for the best English writers. In 1732 he was entered of Pembroke College, Oxford, where he formed one of a set of young men who met in the evenings at one another's chambers, and read English works in polite literature. He also began to exercise his poetical talent upon some light topics; but coming to the possession of his paternal property; with some augmentation, he indulged himself in rural retirement, and forgetting his calls to college residence, he took up his abode at a house of his own, and commenced gentleman. In 1737 he printed anonymously a small volume of juvenile poems, which was little noticed. His first visit to London, in 1740, introduced him to the acquaintance of Dodsley, who printed his " Judgment of Hercules," dedicated to his Hagley neighbour, Mr. (afterwards Lord) Little ton. It was followed by a work written before it, "The School-mistress,' a piece in Spenser's style and stanza, the heroine of which was a village dame, supposed to have given him his first instruction. The vein of benevolence and good sense, and the touches of the pathetic, by which this performance is characterised, render it extrembly pleasing, and perhaps place it at the head of his compositions. After amusing himself with a few rambles to places of public resort, Shenstone now sat down to consisted in improving the picturesque beauties of Shenstone died of a fever in February, 1763, in his fiftieth year, and was interred in the churchyard of Hales-Owen. Monuments to his memory were erected by several persons who loved the man, and esteemed his poetry. Of the latter, the general opinion is now nearly uniform. It is regarded as commonly correct, elegant, melodious, and tender in sentiment, and often pleasing and natural in description, but verging to the languid and feeble. His prose writings, published in a separate volume, display good sense and cultivated taste, and sometimes contain new and acute observations on mankind. THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS. IN IMITATION OF Spenser. Auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens, Infantumque animæ flentes in limine primo. VIRG. Advertisement. What particulars in Spenser were imagined most AH me! full sorely is my heart forlorn, Lend me thy clarion, goddess! let me try In every village mark'd with little spire, And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree, 518 And work the simple vassal's mickle woe; And as they look'd they found their horrour grew, And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view. So have I seen (who has not, may conceive) They start, they stare, they wheel, they look aghast ; Sad servitude! such comfortless annoy Near to this dome is found a patch so green, Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Few but have ken'd, in semblance meet pour- The childish faces of old Eol's train; Libs, Notus, Auster: these in frowns array'd, A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown ; A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air; 'T was simple russet, but it was her own; 'T was her own country bred the flock so fair! 'T was her own labour did the fleece prepare ; And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'd around, Through pious awe, did term it passing rare; For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground. Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth, One ancient hen she took delight to feed, Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to rhyme. Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung, That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around; And pungent radish, biting infants' tongue; And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound; And marjoram sweet, in shepherd's posie found; And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom Shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound, To lurk amidst the labours of her loom, And crown her kerchiefs clean, with mickle rare perfume. And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd The daintiest garden of the proudest peer; Ere, driven from its envied site, it found A sacred shelter for its branches here; Where edg'd with gold its glittering skirts appear, Oh wassel days! O customs meet and well! Ere this was banish'd from its lofty sphere: Simplicity then sought this humble cell, [dwell Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve, Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete, If winter 't were, she to her hearth did cleave, But in her garden found a summer-seat: Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king, While taunting foe-men did a song entreat, All, for the nonce, untuning every string, Uphung their useless lyres-small heart had they to sing. Right well she knew each temper to descry To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise; Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high, And some entice with pittance small of praise, And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays: E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold, While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways: Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, 'T will whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold. Lo now with state she utters the command! Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair; Their books of stature small they take in hand, Which with pellucid horn secured are, To save from finger wet the letters fair: The work so gay that on their back is seen, St. George's high achievements does declare; On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been, Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween! Ah luckless he, and born beneath the beam To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight! And down they drop; appears his dainty skin, Fair as the furry-coat of whitest ermilin. O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure, His little sister doth his peril see : All playful as she sate, she grows demure; She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee; She meditates a prayer to set him free: Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) To her sad grief that swells in either eye, And wings her so that all for pity she could dye. No longer can she now her shrieks command; And hardly she forbears, through awful fear, To rushen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, To stay harsh Justice in its mid career. On thee she calls, on thee her parent dear! (Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow!) She sees no kind domestic visage near, And soon a flood of tears begins to flow; And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain? When he, in abject wise, implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high she levels well her aim, And, through the thatch, his cries each falling stroke proclaim. The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay, Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care: Spenser. By turns, astony'd, every twig survey, See to their seats they hye with merry glee, His grievous wrong; his dame's unjust behest ; And scorns her offer'd love and shuns to be caress'd. His face besprent with liquid crystal shines, If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame. Behind some door, in melancholy thought, The more doth he, perverse, her haviour past resent. Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be ! But if that pride it be, which thus inspires, Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment see, Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires: Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres, All coward arts, is Valour's generous heat; The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires, Like Vernon's patriot soul! more justly great Than Craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false Deceit. Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear! Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so, And this perhaps, who, censuring the design, Low lays the house which that of cards doth build, Shall Dennis be! if rigid Fate incline, And many an epic to his rage shall yield; And many a poet quit th' Aonian field; And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear, As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrill'd Surveys mine work; and levels many a sneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, "What stuff is here?" But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie, For well may Freedom erst so dearly won, Appear to British elf more gladsome than the Sun. Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade, And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers; For when my bones in grass-green 'sods are laid, For never may ye taste more careless hours In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers. O vain to seek delight in earthly thing! But most in courts where proud Ambition towers; Deluded wight! who weens fair Peace can spring Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king. See in each sprite some various bent appear! These rudely carol most incondite lay; Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer Salute the stranger passing on his way; Some builden fragile tenements of clay; Some to the standing lake their courses bend, With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play; Thilk to the huxter's savory cottage tend, In pastry kings and queens th' allotted mite to spend. Here, as each season yields a different store, Each season's stores in order ranged been; Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er, Galling full sore th' unmoney'd wight, are seen; And goose-b'rie clad in livery red or green; And here of lovely dye, the catharine pear, Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice, I ween: O may no wight e'er pennyless come there, Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless care! See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound, With thread so white in tempting posies ty'd, Scattering like blooming maid their glances round, With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside; And must be bought, though penury betide. The plum all azure and the nut all brown, And here each season do those cakes abide, Whose honour'd names th' inventive city own, Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known; Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Fam'd for her loyal cares in perils try'd, Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave: Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave Whose heart did first these dulcet cates display! A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave, Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray; Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their way. ⚫ Shrewsbury cakes. ELEGY. Describing the sorrow of an ingenuous mind, on the melancholy event of a licentious amour. WHY mourns my friend? why weeps his downcast eye, That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to sinine? Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh; Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine. Art thou not lodg'd in Fortune's warm embrace? Wert thou not form'd by Nature's partial care? Blest in thy song, and blest in every grace That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair? "Damon," said he, "thy partial praise restrain; Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore; Alas! his very praise awakes my pain, And my poor wounded bosom bleeds the more. "For oh! that Nature on my birth had frown'd, Or Fortune fix'd me to some lowly cell; Then had my bosom 'scap'd this fatal wound, Nor had I bid these vernal sweets farewell. " But led by Fortune's hand, her darling child, My youth her vain licentious bliss admir'd; In Fortune's train the syren Flattery smil'd, And rashly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd. "Of folly studious, e'en of vices vain, Ah vices! gilded by the rich and gay! "Poor artless maid! to stain thy spotless name, "School'd in the science of love's mazy wiles, "Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care, Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove ; I bade my words their wonted softness wear, "To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest? Will yet thy love a candid ear incline? Assur'd that virtue, by misfortune prest, Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. "Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame; "Henry,' she said, by thy dear form subdu'd, See the sad reliques of a nymph undone ! I find, I find this rising sob renew'd: "Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry, When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return Yet what can morn's returning ray supply, But foes that triumph, or but friends that mouru! |