There Fancy, warm'd with brightest, chastest beams,
The saint's high rapture, and the poet's dreams,
While Virtue left, delightful there to dwell,
The pensive mountain, and the hermit's cell.—
There the good teacher held by turns to youth
The blaze of fiction and pure light of truth,
Who, less by precept than example fir'd,
Glow'd as he taught, inspiring and inspir'd.

Nor think, gay revellers, this awful roof
Echoed no sounds but Wisdom's harsh reproof;
The social board, attendant Mirth, was there,
The smile unconscious of to-morrow's care,
With every tranquil joy of wedded life,
The gracious children, and the faithful wife.
In dance, in song, in harmless sports approv'd,
There youth has frolic'd, there soft maids have lov'd.
There one, distinguish'd one-not sweeter blows
In simpler ornament attir'd, the rose,

The rose she cull'd to deck the nuptial bower,
Herself as fair-a transitory flower.-

Thus a short hour-and woods and turrets fall; The good, the great, the beauteous, perish all. Another age a gayer race supplies,

Less awful groves, and gaudier villas rise.
See Wisdom's place usurp'd by Folly's sons,
And scorners sit on Virtue's vacant thrones.

See neighbouring Combe's old genius quit its bowers,

Not Warwick's* name preserv'd his gothic towers; Nor distant see new royal domes deride

What half remains of Wolsey's ancient pride!

* Combe.Neville, near Kingston, built by the king-making Ear! of Warwick.

†The new apartments at Hampton-Court, raised on the ruins of part of Wolsey's palace.

While yet this humbler pile survives to prove
A mansion worthy of its master's love:

Like him, still welcomes to its liberal door
Whom most he honour'd, honouring most the poor;
Like him, the lisping infant's blessing shares,
And age's gratitude in silent prayers.-
While such partake the couch, the frugal feast,
No regal chambers boast an equal guest;
For, gracious Maker, by thy own decree,
Receiving Mercy is receiving Thee!-

ON RULAL SPORTS.

THE sun wakes jocund-all of life, who breathe In air, or earth, and lawn, and thicket rove, Who swim the surface, or the deep beneath, Swell the full chorus of delight and love.

But what are ye, who cheer the bay of hounds,
Whose levell'd thunder frightens Morn's repose,
Who drag the net, whose hook insidious wounds
A writhing reptile, type of mightier woes?

I see ye come, and havoc loose the reins;

A general groan the general anguish speaks, The stately stag falls butcher'd on the plains, The dew of death hangs clammy on his cheeks.

Ah! see the pheasant fluttering in the brake,
Green, azure, gold, but undistinguish'd gore!
Yet spare the tenants of the silver lake!

--I call in vain-they gasp upon the shore.

A yet ignobler band is guarded round

With dogs of war-the spurning bull their prize; And now he bellows, humbled to the ground,

And now they sprawl in howlings to the skies.

You too must feel their missile weapon's pow'r, Whose clarion charms the midnight's sullen air; Thou the Morn's harbinger, must mourn the hour *Vigil to fasts, and penitence, and prayer.

Must fatal wars of human avarice, wage

For milder conflicts, Love their palm design'd? Now sheath'd in steel, must rival Reason's rage, Deal mutual death, and emulate mankind?

Are these your sovereign joys, Creation's lords?
Is death a banquet for a godlike soul?
Have rigid hearts no sympathizing chords
For concord, order, for the harmonious whole?

Nor plead necessity, thou man of blood!

[vere !

Heaven tempers power with mercy-Heaven re

Yet slay the wolf for safety, lamb for food;

But shorten misery's pangs, and drop a tear!

Ah! rather turn, and breathe this evening gale,
Uninjur'd, and uninjuring Nature's peace.
Come, draw best nectar from the foaming pail,
Come, pen the fold, and count the flock's increase!

See pasturing heifers with the bull, who wields
Yet budding horns, and wounds alone the soil!
Or see the panting spaniel try the fields,
While bursting coveys mock his wanton toil!

Shrove Tuesday.

Now feel the steed with youth's elastic force Spontaneous bound, yet bear thy kind control; Nor mangle all his sinews in his course,

And fainting, staggering, lash him to the goal!
Now sweetly pensive, bending o'er the stream,
Mark the gay floating myriads, nor molest
Their sports, their slumbers, but inglorious dream
Of evil fled and all Creation bless'd!

Or else, beneath thy porch, in social joy
Sit and approve thy infant's virtuous haste,
Humanity's sweet tones while all employ
To lure the wing'd domestics to repast!
There smiling see a fop in swelling state,
The turkey, strut with valour's red pretence,
And duck, row on with waddling honest gait,
And goose, mistake solemnity for sense!
While one with front erect, in simple pride,

Full firmly treads, his consort waits his call;
Now deal the copious barley, waft it wide,

That each may taste the bounty meant for all! Yon bashful songsters with retorted eye

Pursue the grain, yet wheel contracted flight, While he, the bolder sparrow, scorns to fly;

A son of freedom claiming Nature's right. Liberal to him; yet still the wafted grain,

Choicest for those of modest worth dispense; And blessing Heaven that wakes their grateful strain, Let Heaven's best joy be thine, benevolence! While flocks' soft bleatings, echoing high and clear, The neigh of steeds, responsive o'er the heath Deep lowings sweeter melt upon thy ear Than screams of terror and the groans of death.

;

Yet sounds of woe delight a giant brood:
Fly then mankind, ye young, ye helpless old!
For not their fury, a consuming flood

Distinguishes the shepherd, drowns the fold.
But loosen once thy gripe, avenging law!
Eager on man, a nobler chase, they start;
Now from a brother's side the dagger draw,
Now sheath it deeper in a virgin's heart.
See, as they reach Ambition's purple fruits,
Their reeking hands in nation's carnage dyed!
No longer bathing in the blood of brutes,
They swim to empire in a human tide.

But see him, see the fiend that others stung,
With scorpion conscience lash himself, the last!
See festering in the bosom where they sprung
The fury passions that laid Nature waste!
Behold the self-tormentor drag his chains,
And weary Heaven with many a fruitless groan!
By pining fasts, by voluntary pains,

Revenging Nature's cause, he pleads his own. Yet prostrate, suppliant to the throne above,

He calls down Heaven in thunders to pursue Heaven's fancied foes-O God of peace and love, The voice of thunder is no voice from you! Mistaken mortal! 'tis that God's decree

To spare thy own, nor shed another's blood: Heaven breathes benevolence to all, to thee;

Each being's bliss consummates general good.