The Muse's fair daughters triumphant were borne
Till the public applause was converted to scorn;
For by vanity guided, so wildly they steer'd,
Or by caprice directed, so frequently veer'd;
Creation's proud Masters observ'd with a sneer,
That like comets eccentric forsaking their sphere,
Their brightness so gaz'd at, would never produce,
Or pleasure, or profit, or comfort, or use.
****** and ****** thus shone fo a day,
How prais'd was each period! how flatter'd each lay!
Till a crop so luxuriant arising of pride,
Affectation, and fifty new follies beside,
The duties and joys of the mother and wife,
The nameless soft comforts of calm private life,
Fell victims together at Vanity's shrine,
For who could endure to exist and not shine!
MACAULAY, OF STUARTS had tore up the graves, of
prove half of them fools, and the other half knaves, And sully'd the mitre and spatter'd the gown, And flatter'd the mob and insulted the Crown; Then insensibly shrunk to a faction's blind tool, And discover'd too late they had made her their fool. With virtues, and graces, and beauties beside, The delight of her friends, of her country the pride, Say, who could to ******** their suffrage refuse, Or who not be charm'd with her chaste classic Muse?
To the passion for liberty giving loose rein,
At length she flew off to carouse on the Seine ;
And growing inebriate while quaffing the draught,
Equality's new-fangled doctrines she taught ;
And murder and sacrilege calmly survey'd;
In the new Pandemonium those demons had made ;
Seine's blood-crimson'd waters with apathy ey'd,
While the glories of old father Thames she decried.
Now with equals in misery hid in some hole,
Her body a prison confining her soul,
From the freedom of Gallia how fain would she fly,
To the freedom which genius shall taste in the sky!
No longer pursue those fond lovers of fame,
Nor envy the honours and trophies they claim;
No further excursive to speculate roam,
But fix our attention and pleasure at home:
Why regret, when celebrity proves such a curse,
The cares of the mother and toils of the nurse:
While the nurse finds delight in sweet infancy's smiles,
And hope the fond mother's long trouble beguiles.
"But why these quick feelings, or why this nice ear
"Or musical accents, if no one must hear?
"Why blossoms of fancy all scatter'd to waste,
"The glow sympathetic, or pleasures of taste?”
Ask why in the mountains the flow'ret should blow,
Which none but the hermit is destin'd to know?
Why the wild woods re-echo with melody clear,
Which none but the hunter is destin'd to hear?
When often enjoyed, and but seldom they're shewn,
Our riches and pleasures are truly our own:
The milk-maid that carols her wild native airs
To solace her labours, and lighten her cares,
Feels a pleasure more genuine and free from alloy,
Than CATLEY or MARA could ever enjoy :
Who, while their divisions they warbled aloud,
Depended for joy on the praise of the crowd;
Then blest be the lyre, ever sacred its strain,
In the regions of bliss let it waken again :
When the kind hand of Nature has fitted its strings,
And the dictates of truth and of virtue it sings,
As softly and sweetly it touches the mind,
As EOLUS' harp when 'tis mov'd by the wind;
Untainted by art were the notes it has sung,
It has cheer'd our decline, and has charm'd us when
And when useful employments demanded our prime,
Our leisure it soothed without wasting our time:
And when all our sorrows and toils shall be o'er,
Its music perhaps may delight us once more;
When swelling to concords more rich and sublime,
It may rise beyond earth, and may live beyond time.
The blossoms I once so admir'd and caress'd,
That cheer'd my fond heart till they dy'd on my breast,
Which my tears that fell frequent, like soft silent rain,
Could not waken to life and new fragrance again;
There, again, in new sweetness and beauty shall bloom,
And the evergreen plain with fresh odours perfume;
Perhaps while exalted their graces shall rise,
Again their dear verdure shall gladden my eyes!
When the season of fear and of sorrow is o'er,
And our tears and our songs are remember'd no more!
Here youth's free spirit, innocently gay,
"Enjoy'd the most that innocence can give;
"Those wholesome sweets that border Virtue's way,
"Those cooling fruits, that we may taste and live!
The Family whose modest but genuine worth is here celebrated, were remarkable for firmness of principle, simplicity of manners, and very great delicacy, both of sentiment and feeling. The tender harmony in which they lived, and high veneration for their parents, were also among their distinguishing features.
THOUGH
HOUGH long by fate's austere decree remov'd,
From scenes still pleasing, and from friends still lov'd
I see low shelter'd in my humble shed
The stormy gloom invest the mountain's head,
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