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And with an animated gust
Pythagoras, the learned fage,
When a spectator 'as got the jaundice,
Nor cou'd Demofthenes withstand
“ Methinks, quotlı he, this little piece
He said—but Swinton full of fire,
The next, a critic, grave, and big, Hid in a most enormous wig, Who in his manner, mien, and shape was A genuine son of Esculapius, Wonder'd that men of such discerning In all the abstruser parts of learning, Cou'd err, thro' want of wit, or grace, So strangely in so plain a cafe.
“ It came, says he, or I will be whipt, From Memphis in the Lower Egypt. Soon as the Nile's prolific food Has fill'd the plains with slime and mud,
, All Egypt in a moment swarms
Tom, a pert waiter, smart, and clever, With myriads of abortive worms,
A droit pretence who wanted never, Whose appetites would soon devour
Curious to see what caus'd this rout, Each cabbage, artichoke, and flow'r,
And what the doctors were about, Did not some birds, with active zeal,
Slyly stepp'd in to snuff the candles, Eat up whole millions at a meal,
And ask whate'er they pleas’ā to want else. And check the peft while yet the year
Soon as the Synod lie came near, Is ripening into stalk, and ear.
Loud dissonance affail'd his ear ; This blessing, visibly divine,
Strange mingled sounds, in pompous style, Is finely pourtray'd on the coin ;
Of Ilis, Ibis, Lotus, Nile : For here this line, fo faint and weak,
And soon in Romans' hand he spies Is certainly a bill, or beak;
The coin, the cause of all their noise. Which bill, or beak, upon my word,
Quick to his side he flies amain, In Hieroglyphics mean a bird,
And peeps, and snuffs, and peeps again. "The very bird wliose num'rous tribe is
And tho' antiques he had no skill in, Distinguish'd by the name of Ibis.
He knew a fixpence from a shilling; Besides, the figure with the wand,
And, spite of rust, or rub, cou'd trace Mark'd by a fiftrum in her hand,
On humble brass Britannia's face. Appears, the moment she is seen,
Soon her fair image he descries, An Isis, Egypt's boasted queen.
And, big with laughter, and surprise, Sir, I'm as fure, as if my eye
He burst. And is this group of learning
So short of sense, and plain discerning,
To them a curiosity?
If this is your best proof of science, Th’Egyptians always eat for bread.”
With wisdom Tom claims no alliance ? He spoke, and heard, without a pause,
Content with nature's artless knowledge, The rifing murmur of applause ;
He scorns alike both school and college." The voice of admiration rung
More had he said-but, lo! around On ey’ry ear from ev'ry tongue :
A storm in ev'ry face he found : Astonish'd at the lucky hit,
On Romans' brow black thunders hung, They star'd, they deify'd his wit.
And whirlwinds ruth'd from Swinton's tongue; But ah! what arts by fate are tried
'Thynne lightning fath'd from ev'ry pore, To vex, and humble human pride!
And reason's voice was heard no more, To pall down poets from Parnassus,
The tempest ey'd, Tom speeds his fight, And turn grave doctors into afles!
And, sneering, bids 'em all good night; For whilft the band their voices raise
Convinc'd that pedantry's allies
May be too learn'd to be wise.
END or SAW THORN'S POEME.
POEMS OF WILLIAM COLLINS.
W1:0 seeks secure to rule, be first her care
Each softer virtue that adorns the fair; Selim ; or the Shepherd's Moral. Scene, a Valley Each tender passion man delights to find, near Bagdat. Time, the Morning. The lov'd perfections of a female mind!
Bleft were the days, when wisdom held her
With Truth The wedded in the secret grove,
Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way!
The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore,
Thus Selim sung, by facred truth inspir’d; Loft to our fields, for fo the Fates ordain,
When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride And Shepherd-girls shall own thee for their queen.
With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,
Distrusting all, a wise suspicious maid;
Holds the swift faulcon for her deadly foe.
A Gilken veil conceals her from the view.
These are the virtues that must lead to love.
E CLOGUE II.
N Glent horror o'er the boundless waste
The driver Hassan with his camels past :
“ Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, “ When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"
O, hapless youth ! for the thy love hath won, The tender Zara will be most undone ! Big swell?d my heart, and own’d the powerful maid, When fast the dropt her tears, as thus the said: “ Farewell the youth whoni sighs could not detain, " Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain ! " Yet as thou go'ft, may every blast arise " Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs! “ Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'st thou see, “ No griefs endure, nor weep, false youth, like
O, let me safely to the fair return,
He said, and call'd on heaven to bless the day, When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.
ECL OG UE III.
Abra ; or, the Georgian Sultana. Scene, a Foreft.
Time, the Evening.
One cruise of water on his back he bore,
began : “ Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, " When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!''
Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind, The thirft, or pinching hunger, that I find! Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall Thirst assuage, When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage ? Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign; Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine ?
Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear In all my griefs a more than equal share ! Here, where no springs in murmurs break away, Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know, Which plains more blest, or verdant vales bestow : Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands are found, And faint and fickly winds for ever howl around. “ Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, " When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"
Curst be the gold and silver which persuade Weak men to follow far fatiguing trade! The lily peace outshines the silver store, And life is dearer than the golden ore: Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown, To every distant mart and wealthy town. Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea : And are we only yet repaid by thee? Ah! why was ruin so attractive made, Or why fond man so easily betray'd ? Why heed we not, while mad we haste along, The gentle voice of peace, or pleasure's song? Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's fide, The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride, Why think we these less pleasing to buhold, Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold ? “ Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"
Ocease, my fears !---all frantic as I go, When thought creates unnumber'd scenes of woe, What if the lion in his rage I meet ! Oft in the dust I vieux his printed feet : And, fearful! ost, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger rouz’d, lie scours the groaning plain, Gaunt wolves and fullen tigers in his train : Before the death with frieks directs their way, Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. “ Sad was the hour, and luckiefs was the day, 66 When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !”
At that dead hour the filent asp thall creep, If auglit of rest I find, upon my Deep: Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, And wake to anguish with a burning wound. Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor, Froin luit oi vealth, and dread of death secure ! They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find; Pruce ruces the day, where reason rules the mind.
In distant view along the level green,
Of Abra first began the tender strain,
Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to stray,
The royal lover bore her from the plain ;
* That these flowers are found in very great abun. dance in some of the provinces of Persia, see the modern history of Mr. Salmon.
Go leave the fimple pipe, and Mepherd's strain; And first review that long-extended plain, With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign. And yon wide groves, already past with pain! “ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
Yon ragged cliff, whose dangerous path we try'd! * And every Georgian maid like Abra lov’d!'' And last this lofty mountain's weary fide !
Yet midn the blaze of courts the fix'd her love On the cool fountain, or the shady grove:
Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know Still with the thepherd's innocence her mind
The toils of fight, or some severer woe! To the sweet vale, and flowery mead inclin'd;
Still as I haste, the Tartar's shouts behind, And oft as spring renew'd the plains with flowers,
And shrieks and forrows load the saddening wind : Breath'd his soft gales, and led the fragrant hours, With sure return the sought the sylvan scene,
In rage of heart, with ruin in his hand,
He blasts our harvests, and deforms our land. The breezy mountains, and the forests green.
Yon citron grove, whence first in fear we came, Her maids around her mov'd, a duteous band! Each bore a crook all rural in her hand:
Droops its fair honours to the conquering filame :
Far fly the swains, like us, in deep despair, Some fimple lay, of flocks and herds they sung ;
And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care. With joy the mountain and the forest rung. “ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd “ And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!”
Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword, And oft the royal lover left the care
In vain, unheard, thou call'At thy Persian lord ! And thorns of state, attendant on the fair ;
In vain thou court'At him, helpless, to thine aid, Oft to the Thades and low-roof'd cots retir'd,
To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid ! Or fought the vale where first his heart was fir'd:
Far off, in thoughtless indolence resign'd, A ruffet mantle, like a swain, he wore,
Soft dreams of love and pleasure foothe his mind, And thought of crowns and bufy courts no more.
'Midit fair fultanaz loft in idle joy, “ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. “ And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!” Blest was the life, that royal Abbas led :
Yet these green hills, in summer's sultry heat, Sweet was his love, and innocent his bed.
Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. What if in wealth the noble maid excel;
Sweet to the fight is Zabran's flowery plain, The simple shepherd-girl can love as well.
And once by maids and shepherds lov'd in vain! Let those who rule on Persia's jewel'd throne,
No more the virgins (hall delight to rove Be fam'd for love, and gentleft love aione ;
By Sargis' banks, or Irwan's shady grove, Or wreathe, like Abbas, full of fair renown,
On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown.
Or breathe the sweets of Aly's flowery vale : O happy days! the maids around her say ;
Fair scenes! but, ah! no more with peace pofseft, O haste, profuse of blessings, haste away!
With ease alluring, and with plenty blest. “ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd ;
No more the shepherd's whitening tents appear, “ And every Georgian maid like Abra loved!" Nor the kind product of a bounteous year!
No more the date, with snowy blossoms crown'd!
In vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves,
For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves :
In vain The boafts her fairest of the fair, Agib and Secander; or, the Fugitives. Scene, a Their eyes' blue languish, and their golden hair! Mountain in Circallia. Time, Midnight. Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send ;
Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend. N fair Circassia, where, to love inclin'd,
Each fwain was bleft, for every maid was kind; At that still hour, wlien aweful midnight reigns,
Ye Georgian swains, that piteous learn from far And none, but wretches, haunt the twilight
plains ; Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare,
Circassia's ruin, and the waste of war;
To field your harvests, and defend your fair :
The Turk and Tartar like designs pursue, Where wildering fear and desperate forrow led :
Fix'd to destroy, and stedfast to undo. Fast as they prest their flight, behind them lay
Wild as his land, in native deserts bred, Wild ravag'd plains, and vallies stole away.
By lust incited, or by malice led, Along the mountain's bending lides they ran,
The villain Arab, as lie prowls for prey,
Oft marks with blood and wasting fames the way; Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began :
Yet none so cruel as the Tartar foe,
To death inur'd, and rurft in scenes of woe. O stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny,
He said; when loud along the vale was heard No longer friendly to my life, to fly.
A thriller Inriek, and nearer fires appearid: Friend of my heart, o turn thee and survey,
Th' affrighted thepherds, through the dews of Trace our fad fight through all its length of way!
night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their Aight,