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Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd,
The victors fouls were not appeas'd;
The naked and forlorn muft feel
Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel!

VI.

The pious mother, doom'd to death,
Forfaken, wanders o'er the heath.
The bleak wind whistles round her head;
Her helpless orphans cry for bread;
Bereft of fhelter, food, and friend,
She views the fhades of night defcend,
And, ftretch'd beneath inclement skies,
Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.

VII.

Whilft the warm blood bedews my
And unimpair'd remembrance reigns;
Refentment of my country's fate,
Within my filial breast shall beat;
And, fpite of her infulting foe,
My fympathizing verfe fhall flow,
"Mourn, haplefs Caledonia, mourn

veins

"Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn."

Love as we have already obferved, is likewife one of the proper fubjects for this kind of poem. An example of which we shall give from the love Elegies lately publish'd by Mr. Hammond.

A LOVE ELEGY.

I.

Let others boast their heaps of fhining gold,
And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd,
Whom neighb'ring foes in conftant terror hold,
And trumpets break their slumbers, never found

II.

While, calmly poor, I trifle life away,
Enjoy sweet leifure by my chearful fire,

No wanton hope my quiet fhall betray,

But cheaply bless'd i'll fcorn each vain defire.

:

III.

With timely care I'll fow my little field,

And plant my orchard with its master's hand, Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield, Or range the sheaves along the funny land.

IV.

If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam,
I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb,
Under my arm I'll bring the wand'rer home,
And not a little chide its thoughtless dam.

V.

What joy to hear the tempeft howl in vain,
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast?
Or lull'd to flumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy fink at last to rest.

VI.

Or if the fun in flaming Leo ride,

By fhady rivers indolently ftay,

And with my DELIA walking fide by fide, Hear how they murmur, as they glide away.

VII.

What joy to wind along the cool retreat,
To stop and gaze on DELIA as I go !
To mingle fweet difcourfe with kiffes sweet,
And teach my lovely scholar all I know!

VIII.

Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream,
In filent happiness I reft unknown;
Content with what I am, not what I feem,
I live for DELIA, and myfelf alone.

IX.

Ah foolish man! who thus of her poffefs'd,
Could float and wander with ambition's wind,
And if his outward trappings fpoke him bleft,
Not heed the ficknefs of his confcious mind.

X.

With her I fcorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor truft to happiness that's not our own,
The fmile of fortune might fufpicion raise,
But here I know that I am lov'd alone.

XI.

STANHOPE, in wisdom as in wit divine,
May rife, and plead Britannia's glorious cause,
With fteady rein his eager wit confine,
While manly sense the deep attention draws.

XII.

Let STANHOPE fpeak his lift'ning country's wrong,
My humble voice fhall please one partial maid;
For her alone, I pen my tender fong,
Securely fitting in his friendly fhade.

XIII.

STANHOPE fhall come, and grace his rural friend,
DELIA fhall wonder at her noble guest,
With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her husband's patron cull the best.

XIV.

Her's be the care of all my little train,
While I with tender indolence am bleft,
The favourite fubject of her gentle reign,
By love alone diftinguish'd from the reft.

XV.

For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plow,
In gloomy forests tend my lonely stock,
For her a goat-herd climb the mountain's brow,
And fleep extended on the naked rock.

XVI.

Ah! what avails to prefs the ftately bed,

And far from her 'midft tafteless grandeur weep, By warbling fountains lay the penfive head, And, while they murmur, ftrive in vain to fleep

XVII.

DELIA alone can please and never tire,
Exceed the paint of thought in true delight,
With her, enjoyment wakens new defire,
And equal rapture glows thro' every night.
XVIII.

;

Beauty and worth, alone in her, contend,
To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind
In her, my wife, my mistress, and my friend,
I tafte the joys of sense, and reason join'd.

XIX.

On her I'll gaze when others loves are o'er,
And dying, prefs her with my clay-cold hand
Thou weep't already, as I were no more,
Nor can that gentle breaft the thought withstand.

XX.

Oh! when I die, my latest moments fpare,
Nor let thy grief with fharper torments kill ;
Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair,
Tho' I am dead, my foul fhall love thee ftill.

XXI.

Oh quit the room, oh quit the deathful bed,
Or thou wilt die, fo tender is thy heart!
Oh leave me, DELIA! ere thou fee me dead,
Thefe weeping friends will do thy mournful part.
XXII.

Let them, extended on the decent bier,

Convey the corfe in melancholy ftate, Thro' all the village spread the tender tear,

While pitying maids our wond'rous loves relate.

But every fpecies of poetry, however ferious, may admit of humour and burlefque. Examples of which we have given in the Epigram, and Epitaph, and we shall conclude this chapter with a burlesque elegy, written by Dr. Savift.

An ELEGY on the fuppofed death of Mr. PARTRIDGE, the
Almanack-maker.

Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guefs'd,
Tho' we all took it for a jeft;
Partridge is dead; nay more, he dy'd
E're he cou'd prove the good 'Squire ly'd.
Strange, an aftrologer fhou'd die
Without one wonder in the sky!
Not one of all his crony ftars
To pay their duty at his herfe!
No meteor, no eclipse appear'd!
No comet with a flaming beard!
The fun has rofe, and gone to bed,
Juft as if Partridge were not dead:
Nor hid himfelf behind the moon
To make a dreadful night at noon.
He at fit periods walks thro' Aries,
Howe'er our earthly motion varies :
And twice a year he'll cut th' Equator,
As if there had been no such matter.
Some Wits have wonder'd, what analogy,
There is 'twixt cobling and aftrology:
How Partridge made his optics rife,
From a fhoe fole, to reach the fkies.
A lift the coblers temples ties
To keep the hair out of their eyes;
From whence 'tis plain the diadem,
That princes wear, derives from them.
And therefore crowns are now-a-days
Adorn'd with golden flars and rays,
Which plainly fhews the near alliance
"Twixt cobling and the planets fcience.
Befides, that flow-pac'd fign Bootes,
(As 'tis mifcall'd) we know not who 'tis :
But Partridge ended all disputes;

He knew his trade, and call'd it † Bocts.

The horned moon, which heretofore,

Upon their fhoes the Romans wore,
Whofe widenefs kept their toes from corns,
And whence we claim our hooing-borns,

Partridge was a Cobler,

See his Almanack.

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