And vocal mountains, as they low,
Re-echo to the vales below;
The jocund fhepherds piping come,
And drive the herd before them home;
And now begin to light their fires,
Which fend up finoke in curling fpires!
While with light hearts all homeward tend,
To Abergafney I defcend.
But, oh! how blefs'd would be the day, Did I with Clio pace my way,
And not alone and folitary stray.
YE poor little sheep, ah ! well may ye ftray,
While fad is your fhepherd, and Clio away!
Tell where have you been, have you met with my love,
On the mountain, or valley, or meadow, or grove?
Alas-aday, No-Ye are ftrav'd, and half dead;
Ye faw not my love, or ye all had been fed.
Oh, Sun, did you fee her?-ah! furely you did :
'Mong what willows, or woodbines, or recds, is she hid ?
Ye tall, whistling pines, that on yonder hill grow,
And o'erlook the beautiful valley below,
Did you fee her a-roving in wood or in brake?
Or bathing her fair limbs in fome filent lake?
Ye mountains, that look on the vigorous eaft,
And the north, and the fouth, and the wearifom weft,
* The name of a feat belonging to the Author's brother.
Pray tell where the hides her, you furely do know,
And let not her lover pine after her fo.
Oh, had I the wings of an eagle, I'd fly ■ :
Along with bright Phoebus all over the sky;
Like an eagle, look down, with my wings wide difplay'd, And dart in my eyes at each whispering fhade :
I'd search every tuft in my diligent tour,
I'd unravel the woodbines, and look in each bower,'
Till I found out my Clio, and ended my pain,
And made myself quiet, and happy again.
AN EPISTLE TO A FAMOUS PAINTER.
ELIGHTFUL partner of
Mafter of the lovelieft art!
How fweet our fenfes you deceive,
When we, a gazing throng, believe!
Here flows the Po!-The Minis there,
Winding about with fedgy hair!
And there the Tyber's yellow flood,
Beneath a thick and gloomy wood !
And there Darius' broken ranks
Upon the Grannic's bloody banks;
Who bravely die, or bafely run
From Philip's all-fubduing fon!
And there the wounded Porus brought
(The bravest man that ever fought!)
To Alexander's tent, who eyes
His dauntless visage, as he lies
In death's most painful agonies.
The beauteous fhapes of objects near!
Or diftant ones confus'd in air!
The golden eve, the blushing dawn,
Smiling on the lovely lawn!
And pleasing views of chequer'd glades!
And rivers winding through the shades!
And funny hills!-and pleafant plains!
And groups of merry nymphs and swains!
Or fome old building, hid with grafs,
Rearing fad its ruin'd face;
Whofe columns, frizes, ftatues, lie,
The grief and wonder of the eye!
Or fwift adown a mountain tall:
A foaming cataract's founding fall 9
Whofe loud roaring ftuns the ear
Of the wondering traveller!
Or a calm and quiet bay,
And a level fhining fea!
Or furges rough, that froth, and roar,
And, angry, dafh the founding fhore!
And veffels toft! and billows high!
And lightning flashing from the sky!
Or that which gives me moft delight,
The fair idea (feeming fight!)
Of warrior fierce, with fhining blade!
Or orator, with arms difplay'd!
Tully's engaging air and mien,
Declaiming against Cataline.
Or fierce Achilles towering high
Above his foes, who round him die.
Or Hercules, with lion's hide,
And knotty cudgel, thrown aside,
Lifting Antæus high in air!
Who, in his gripe, expires there!
Or Sifyphus, with toil and fweat,
And mufcles ftrain'd, ftriving to get
Up a steep hill a ponderous stone,
Which near the top recoils, and rolls impetuous down;
Or beauteous Helen's cafy air,
With head reclin'd, and flowing hair;
Or comely Paris, gay and young,
Moving with gallant grace along!
These you can do!-I but advance
In a florid ignorance;
And fay to you, who better know,
You should design them so and fo.
On his POEM called GIDEON.
ELL me, wondrous friend, where were you
When Gideon was your lofty fong!
Where did the heavenly spirit bear you,
When your fair foul reflected strong
Gideon's actions, as they fhin'd
Bright in the chambers of your mind!
Say, have you trod Arabia's fpicy vales,
Or gather'd bays befide Euphrates' ftream,
Or lonely fung with Jordan's water-falls,
While heavenly Gideon was your facred theme. Or have you many ages given
To clofe retirement and to books! And held a long difcourfe with Heaven,
And notic'd Nature in her various looks! Full of infpiring wonder and delight,
Slow read I Gideon with a greedy eye! Like a pleas'd traveller that lingers sweet On fome fair and lofty plain
Where the fun does brightly fhine,
And glorious profpects all around him lie!
On Gideon's pages beautifully shine,
Surprizing pictures rifing to my fight,
With all the life of colours and of line,
And all the force of rounding fhade and light,
And all the grace of fomething more divine !
High on a hill, beneath an oak's broad arm,
I fee a youth divinely fair,
"Penfive he leans his head on his left hand;
His fmiling eye fheds fweetness mix'd with awe, "His right hand, with a milk-white wand, fome figure "feems to draw!
"A nameless grace is scatter'd through his air, "And o'er his fhoulders loofely flows his amber
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