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ORESTES. OsFeet refreshing Sleep! thou balmy cure
Say'st thou ?-better far Of sickness and of pain!
He came alone and he alone surviving ; Hos has thy gentle power at length reliev'd me! But if with Helen–then he brings a curse, Ost oblivion of surrounding ills,
A heavy curseHow grateful to th’atticted are thy charms !
ELECTRA. Where am I?-speak—inform me, tell we where.
The race of 'Tyndarur How came I hither? for I know not how !
Have through all Greece spread infainy and shame. Alas! I've lately been bereft of reason !
ORESTES. And now no track of former thought remains.
Beware then-shun the deeds of impious women. ELECTRA.
Wear no false face—be good, as well as scem soO my much-lov'd Orestes ! O my brother! Beware I say, With joy I've watch'd o'er thy late healing slumbers.
ELECTRA. Come-shall I help to raise thee from thy couch! Alas! what means my brother you are chang'd. ORESTES.
Your colour shifts--your eyes look fiercely wildSoft, I pray thee-first wipe away these drops, Your fit returns—Heavens! he's lost again. That sit all dewy o'er my face.
Mother, forbear!-What! no forgiveness-never? Ye goals!
O! take away those Furies—how they shake Hos pleasant is this task to a sister's love! Their snaky locks, and grin around me!
ELECTRA. Come, let me lean upon thee;—how canst thou Alas! poor wretch; 'tis thy own fear alarms thee. bear me?
Compose thyself: why dost thou leave thy couch? Put forth thy hand; remove the clotted locks Here are no fiends; thou talk'st to shapeless air. That shade my sight; I scarcely yet can see
Help, help me, Phæbus-See those dogs of Hell O my poor brother ! how has sickness chang'd With famish'd jaws gape horrid to devour me! thee !
Th' infernal priestesses look tiercely on me;
Nay, strive not-for I will not let thee go,
What art thou ?
One of my curst tormentors? — Hence - I know How friendly is the sick inan's bed; though pain thee; Duell there, yet there he best may bear it. Thou grasp'st me thus to plunge me down to Hell.
0! help once more; and gently bend me forward. Oh! whence can wretched mortals hope for CHORUS
succour, The sick are ever restless ;
When Heaven is deaf, and all the gods our foes! l'neasiness and pain make them impatient.
Reach me the weapons of the shooting god, Wilt thou get up and try again to walk?
Apollo's gift, the shafts, and horny bow; Change will perhaps relieve thee.
With these he bad me drive the fiends away,
When cruel, they attack meI fain would walk-and, seeming well awhile,
ELECTRA. Delude my anxious thoughts.
Can they feel?
Can deathless beings feel a mortal wound?
ORESTES. Speak quick thy news—if it be good, 'tis welcome; Begone, ye ministers of wrath--Away! away! If ill-I've load enough; nor add thou more.
The guilt's not mine-Hence, through the yielding
skies, Then know thy uncle Menclaus comes;
Fly swift to Heaven--and charge Apollo there, His ship is in the port
Whose oracle betray'd ine!-- Th I faint;
How have I left my bed?-how stray'd I hither?
My sister?-weeping too? Why dost,thou turn My father's brother, and his best-lov'd friend !
Thy face away, thus muffled in thy garment? ELECTRA.
I grieve to think what I have made thee sutfer; He's now arrivd-and brings from conquer'd Troy I know my sickness bears too hard upon thee; His beauteous Helen
Yet weep nut for my crimes, unhappy maid!
THE XIVTH OLYMPICK OP PINDAR.
The deed was mine- Thou only didst consent :
TO ASOPICUS OF ORCHOMENUS.
O’er Minyaa's happy soil, that breeds, The pitying manes sure had stopp'd my hand,
Swift for the race, the fairest steeds; Nor would have wish'd for his own life again,
And rule the land, where with a gentle tide Redeem'd by guilt, so horrid in a son.
Your lov'd Cephisian waters glide!
To you Orchomenus's towers belong,
Then hear, ye goddesses, and aid the song.
Whatever gifts can move delight,
Fame, beauty, wisdom, you bestow ; Such offices become our fond affection.
Nor will the gods the sacred banqnet own, But now, retiring to thy own apartment,
Nor on the Chorus look propitious down,
If you your presence have deny'd,
In Heaven itself all own your happy care;
Bless'd by your influence divine, Thou seest all other friends are fled ; thou art
There all is good, and all is fair : My only solace in this dire amiction.
On thrones sublime you there illustrious shine; Should'st thou forsake ine too, I'm lost indeed.
Plac'd near Apollo with the golden lyre,
You all his harinony inspire,
And warbled hymns to Jove perpetual sing, Ono! thy sister never will forsake thee;
To Jove, of Heaven the father and the king. Nor only will I live, but die, with thee;
Now hear, Aglaia, venerable maid ! What joy could life afford a wretched woman,
Hear thou that tuneful perse dost love, Bereft of father, brother, every friend ?-
Euphrosyne! join your cælestial aid,
Ye daughters of immortal Jove! But if you so command, I will retire;
Thalia too be present with my lays; • In the meanwhile compose thyself to rest,
Asopicus has rais'd his city's name, Reclin'd upon thy couch; nor let vain terrours
And, rictor in th’ Olympic strife, may claim Rouse thee again—Thy own upbraiding conscience Froin you his just reward of virtuous praise. lä the revengeful fiend that haunts thy breast !
And thou, O Fame! this happy triumph spread;
Fly to the regions of the dead,
There seek Cleodamus below,
And let the pleas'd patirnal spirit know,
How on the plains of Pisa far renown'u,
His son, his youthful son, of matchless speed,
Bore ofl' from all the victor's meed,
And with an olive wreath his envy'd temples cround. As father Thames pours out his plenteous urn
O'er common tracts, with speed his waters flow;
THE MORNING APPARITION.
WRITTEN AT WALLINGTON-HOUSE, IN SURRY, Nor to the ocean would pursue his race, Till he reflects its glories in his tide, And call the Water-nymphs around to gaze.
All things were hush'd, as Noise itself were dead; So in Time's common fool the huddled throng No midnight mice stirr'd round my silent bed;
Of Months and Hours unheeded pass away, Not e'en a gnat disturb’d the peace profound, Unless some general good our joy prolong.
Dumb o'er my pillow hung my watch unwound; And mark the moments of some festal day. No ticking death-worm told a fancy'd doom,
Nor hidden cricket chirrup'd in the room; Not fair July, though Plenty clothe his fields,
No breeze the casement shook, or fann'd the lcaves, Though golden sans make all his morning smile, Can boast of aught that such a triumph yields,
Nor drops of rain fell soft from off the caves;
Nor noisy splinter made the candle weep, As that he gave a Parker to our isle.
But the dim watchlight seem'd itself asleep, Hail happy month! secure of lasting fame! When, tir'd, I clos'd my eyes how long I lay
Doubly distinguish'd through the circling year: In slumber wrapp'd, I list not now to say: In Rome a hero gave thee first thy name ;
When hark! a sudden noise-See! open flies A patriot's birth makes thee to Britain dear. The yielding door-), starting, rubb'd my eyes,
TIIE SEAT OF MR. BRIDGES.
THEN THE SEAT OP
M. DCC. XIX.
Past clos'd awhile; and, as their lids I reard, So when that genial father of the Spring
Smiles on the meads, and wakes the birds to sing,
On the parterres and fruitful garden beds, Cold swiat bedew'd my limbs--nor did I dream; A thousand beauteous births shoot up to sight, Hear, mortals, hear! for real truth's my theme. A thousand buds, unfolding, meet the light; And now, more bold, I rais'd ny trembling bones Each useful plant does the rich earth adorn, To look-when, lo! 'twas honest master Jones'; And all the flowery universe is born. Who war'd his hand, to banish fcar and sorrow, Well charg'd with toast and sack, and cry'd — This first of virtues, awful, yet serene,
O! could my verse describe this sacred qucen, " Good morrow !”
Plain in her native charms, nor too severe,
She dwells in this selected, happy mind, WRITTEN IS A WINDOW AT WALLINGTON-HOUSE, The source of every good should stand confest,
And all, who see, applaud the heaven-born guest! MRS. ELIZABETH BRIDGES.
Proceed, my Muse: next in the picture place Diffusive CI ity to human race.
Justice thou need'st not in thy draught express, Exty, if thy searching eye
Since every greater still includes the less.
What were the praise, if Virtue idly stood, Through this window chance to pry,
Content alike to do nor harm nor good? To thy sorrow thou shalt find,
Though shunning ill, imactive, and supine, All that's generous, friendly, kind,
Like painted suns, that warm not while they shine? Goodness, Virtue, every Grace,
The nobler soul such narrow life disdains, Dwelling in this happy place:
Flows out, and ineets another's joys and pains, Then, if thou would'st shun this sight,
Tasteless of blessings, if possest alone,
And in imparted pleasures seeks its own.
Hence streams of good in constant actions now,
And inan to man becomes a god below!
A soul thus form'd, and such a soul is here,
Needs not the dangerous test of riches fear,
And count o'er heaps with an unsully'd hand.
A liberal fortune to a liberal mind. The labour'd piece must yet half-finish'd stand, With such a graceful ease her bounty flows; And mock the weakness of the master's hand. She gives, ani scarce that she's the giver knows,
But seems receiving most, when she the most beColours are but the phantoms of the day,
Rich in herself, well may she value more (stows. With that they're born, with that they fade a vay:
Her wealth within, the mind's immortal store; Like Beauty's charms, they but amuse the sight,
Passions subdued, and knowledge free from pride, Dark in themselves, till, by reflection bright,
Good humour, ever to good sense ally'd, With the Sun's aid, to rival him they boast, Well-season'd mirth, and wisdom unsevere, But, light withdrawn, in their own shadles are lost.
An equal temper, and a heart sincere; Then what are these t'express the living fire,
Gifts that alone from Nature's bounty How, The lamp within, that never can expire?
Which Fortune may display, but not bestow; That work can only by the Muse be wronght;
For wealth but sets the picture more in sight, Souls must paint Souls, and Thought delineate
And brings the beauties or the faults to light.
How true th’esteem that's founded in desert!
Here willing duty ne'er was paid in vain, Yet not a barren waste, an empty space,
And ev'n dependence cannot feel its chain; For crowds of virtu-s fill up all the place.
Yet whom she thus sets free she closer binds, See! o'er the rest fair Picty presides,
(Affection is the chain of grateful minds) As the bright Sun th' inferior planets guides; And, doubly blessing her adopted care, To the soul's powers it vital heat supplies,
Makes them her virtues with her fortune share, And hence a thousand worthy habits rise.
Leads by example, and by kindness guards,
And raises first the merit she rewards. 1 The butler.
Oft too abroad she casts a friendly eye, ? She djed Dec. 1, 1745, aged 88. See some As she would help to every need supply, Verses to her memory in Mrs. Tollet's poems, p. The poor near her almost their cares forget, 139.
Their want but serves as hunger to their meat;
THE CHARACTER OF
For, since her soul's ally'd to human kind,
improvement, the latter part, which attempts a Not to her house alone her store's confin'd;
short view of the Heavens according to the moBut, passing on, its own full banks o'erflows,
dern philosophy, is entirely original, and not Enlarg’d, and deals forth plenty as it goes.
founded on any thing in the Latin author.
LEAVE Mortality's low sphere. Casts sprinkled showers o'er every figur'd green;
Ye Winds and Clouds, come, lift me high, Or in canals walks round the beauteous scene,
And on your airy pinions bear Yet stops not there, but its free course maintains,
Swift through the regions of the skv. And spreads gay verdure thro' the adjacent plains;
What lofty mountains downward fly! The labouring hinds with pleasure see it flow,
And, lo! how wide a space of air And bless those streams by which their pastures
Extends new prospects to my eye!
The gilded fanes, reflecting light, grow.
And royal palaces, as bright, generous use of power! O virtuous pride!
(The rich abode's Ne'er may the means be to such souls deny'd,
Of heavenly and of earthly gods) Executors of Heaven's all-bounteous will,
Retire apace; whole cities too Who well the great First-giver's ends fulfil,
Decrease beneath my rising view.
And now, far off, the rolling globe appears;
On, object well deserving tears !
Capricious state of things below, Now pause awhile, my Muse, and then renew
That, changeful from their birth, no fix'd duration The pleasing task, and take a second view!
Here new-built towns, aspiring high, A train of virtues yet undrawn appear;
Ascend, with lofty turrets crown'd; Here just Economy, strict Prudence there;
There others fall, and mouldering lie, Near Liberality they ever stand;
Obscure, or only by their muins found. This guides her judgment, that directs her hand. Palmyra's far-extended waste I spy, By these see wild Profusion chas'd away,
(Once Tadmor, ancient in renown) And wanton Luxury, like birds of prey
Her marble heaps, by the wild Arab shown, Whilst meek Humility, with charms serene,
Still load with useless pomp the ground. Forbids vain Pomp t'approach the hallow'd scene; But where is lordly Babylon? where now Yet through her veil the more attracts the sight,
Lifts she to Heaven her giant brow? And on her sister virtues casts a light.
Where does the wealth of Nineveh abound? But wherefore starts the Painter-Muse, and why,
Or where's the pride of Afric's shore?
Is Rome's great rival then no more? The piece unfinish'd, throws the pencil by ?
In Rome herself behold th' extremes of fate, “ Methinks,” she says, “ Humility I hear,
Her ancient greatness sunk, her modern boasted With gentle voice, reproving, cry— Forbear!
See her luxurious palaces arise, Forbear, rash Muse! nor longer now commend,
With broken arches mixt between!
And here what splendid domes possess the skies!
And there old temples, open to the day,
Their walls, o'ergrown with moss, display;
And columns, awful in decay,
die verd primùm dulces ante omnia Musr; Accipiant, cælique vias & sidera monstrent.
ADVERTISEMENT. h may be proper to acquaint the reader, that the
following poem was begun on the model of a Latin ode of Casiınire, intitled E Rebus Humanis Excessus, from which it is plain that Couley likewise took the first bint of his ode called The Ecstasy. The former part, therefore, is chiefly an imitation of that ode, thongh with considerable variations, and the aildition of the whole second stanza, except the first three lines : but the plan itself seeming capable of a farther
Around the space of Earth I tum my eye;
But where's the region free from woe?
The seat of Happiness below?
Here Peace would all its joys dispense,
But, lo! a purple pestilence
Her unreap'd harvests Ceres yields,
But, slaves to arbitrary power,
Hand to hand, and breast to broaste
Destruction, like a vulture, hovers nigh;
I pass cerulean gulphs, and now behold Lurd with the hope of human blood,
New solid globes their weight, self-balanc'd, bear, She hangs upon the wing, uncertain where to fly, Unpropp’d, amidst the fluid air, (rollid. But licks her drowthy jaws, and waits the promis'd And all, around the central Sun, in circling eddics food.
Unequal in their course, see they advance, Here cruel Discord takes a wider scene,
And form the planetary dance!
Here the pale Moon, whom the saine laws ordain To exercise more unrelenting rage ;
Tobey the Earth, and rule the Main; Appointed feets their numerous powers engage,
Here spois no more in shadowy streaks appear; With scarce a space of sea between.
But lakes instead, and groves of trees, Hark! what a brazen burst of thunder
The wondering Muse transported sees, Rends the elements asunder!
And their tall heads discoverd mountains rear. Affrighted Ocean tlies the roar,
And now once more I downward cast my sight, And drives the billows to the distant shore;
When, lo! the Earth, a larger moon, displays The distant shore,
Far off, amidst the Heavens, her silver face, That such a storm ne'er felt before, Transunits it to the rocks around;
And to her sister moon by turns gives light! The rocks and hollow crceks prolong the rolling Her stas are shadowy spots, her land a milky white. sound.
What power unknown my course still upwards Still greater horrours strike my eyes.
guides, Behold, convulsive earthquakes there,
Wbcre Mars is seen his ruddy rays to throw And shatter'd land in pieces tear,
Through heatless skies, that round him seem to And ancient cities sink, and sudden mountains rise! glow, 'Thro' opening mines th' astonish'd wretches go,
And where remoter Jove o'er his four moons presides? Hurry'd to unknown depths below.
And now I urge my way more bold, The bury'd ruin sleeps; and nought remains Unpierc'd by Saturn's chilling cold, But dust above and desert plains,
And pass his planetary guards, and his bright ring Cnless some stone this sad inscription wear,
behold. Rais'd by some future traveller :
Here the Sun's beams so faintly play, The prince, his people, and his kingdom, here,
The mingled shades almost extinguish day. One common toinb contains.”
His rays reverted hence, the fire withdraws,
For here his wide dominions end;
O'er the firm land usurping ride, (tide. Hither their bordering realis extend.
And now far off, through the blue vacant borne, sound.
I reach at last the milky road, Waves rolld on waves, deep burying deep, lift
Once thought to lead to Jove's supreme abode, high
Where stars, profuse in heaps, Heaven's glittering A watery monument, in which profound
heights adorn. The courts and cottages together lie.
Lost in each other's neighbouring rays, Es'n now the floating wreck I spy,
They undistinguish'd shine in one promiscuous blaze. And the wide surface far around
So thick the lucid gerns are strown, With spoils of plunder'd countries crown'd.
As if th' Almighty Builder here Such, Belgia, was the ravage and affright,
Laid up his stores for many a sphere When late thou saw'st thy ancient foe
In destin'd worlds, as yet unknown. Swell o'er thy dignes, oppos'd in vain,
Hither the nightly-wakeful swain, With deadly rage, and, rising in its might,
That guards his folds upon the plain, Pour down swift ruin on thy plains below.
Oft turns his gazing eyes, Thus Fire, and Air, and Farth, and Main,
Yet marks no stars, but o'er his head A never-ceasing fight maintain,
Beholds the streamy twilight spread, While man on every side is sure to lose ;
Like distant morning in the skies; And Fatc has furnish'd out the stage of life
And wonders from what source its dawning splen
dours risc. With War, Misfortune, and with Strife; Till Death the curtain drops, and shuts the scene
But, lo!-what's this I sce appear? of woes.
It seems, far off, a pointed flame; But why do I delay my flight ?
From carth-wards too the shining meteor came Or on such gloomy objects gazu?
How swift it climbs th' aërial space! I go to realms serene with ever-living light.
And now it traverses cach sphere, Haste, Clouds and Whirlwinds, haste a raptur'd Aud seems some living guest, familiar to the place. bard to raise;
'Tis hicmaas l approach more near, Mount me sublime along the shining way,
The great Columbus of the skies I know ! Where planets, in pure streams of ether driv'n, "Tis Newton's soul, that daily travels here Swim through the blue expanse of Heaven.
In search of knowledge for mankind below. And, do! ih' obsequious Clouds and Win is obey! O stay, thou happy spirit, stay, And, lo! again the nations downwards ny, And lead me on thro' all th’unbeaten wilds of day; And wide-stretch'd kingdoms perish from my eye. As when the Sibyl did Rome's father guide Ileaven! what bright visions now arise !
Safe through the downward roads of night, bat opening worluis my ravish'd seose surprise! And in Elysiuin blest his sight