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Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling rerrors of the vengeful snake;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
And savage men more murd'rous still than they :
While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies.
Far different these from every former scene,
The cooling brook, the

grassy
vested

green, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.

Goodheaven!whatsorrowsgloom'dthat partingday, That call’d them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their last, And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western main ; And shudd'ring still to face the distant deep, Return’d and wept, and still return'd to weep. The good old sire, the first prepar'd to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave, His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, The fond companion of his helpless years, Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, And left a lover's for her father's arms. With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, And blest the cot where every pleasure rose;

And

and kist her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And claspt them close, in sorrow doubly dear;
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief
In all the silent manliness of grief.

O luxury! thou curst by heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy ! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own. At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldly woe; Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.

Ev'n now the devastation is begun, And half the business of destruction done; Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes plac'd above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;

Unfit

Unfit in these degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decry'd,
My shame in crouds, my solitary pride.
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe.
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so;
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excell.
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well,
Farewel, and O! where'er thy voice be try'd,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of th’inclement clime;
Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strength possest,
Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away;
While self-dependant power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky,

THE

G I FT.

то

IRIS,

IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN,

SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake,

Dear mercenary beauty,
What annual off'ring shall I mako

Expressive of my duty.

My heart, a victim to thine eyes,

Should I at once deliver,
Say, would the angry fair-one prize

The gift who slights the giver ?

A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,

My rivals give-and let 'em. If gems, or gold, impart a joy,

I'll give them when I get 'em.

ווין

I'll give—but not the full-blown rose,

Or rose-bud more in fashion ; Such short-liv'd off'rings but disclose

A transitory passion.

I'll give thee something yet unpaid,

Not less sincere, than civil: I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid,

I'll give thee-to the devil.

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