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Sweet Amelia now is press’d

But Peace returns, and o'er the smiling land With double transport to her breast.

The fair magician waves her olive wand: Sweet Amelia, thoughtless why,

Beneath whose touch the vales fresh verdure wear, Imitates the general joy:

And future harvests seem already here. Innocent of care or guile

Wide o'er the deep her balcyon power prevails; See the lovely mimic smile,

The deep, now darken'd with unnumber'd sails. And as the heartfelt raptures rise,

Securely there the merchant ploughs bis way Catch them from her mother's eyes.

Through Ushant's straits, and Biscay's faithless Does the noisy town deny

bay: Soothing airs and ecstasy?

Securely slacks his course, and points the place, Sion's shades afford retreat,

Where late our heroes urg'd the naval chase: Thither bend thy pilgrim feet.

'Twas there,” he cries, “where yon advancing tide There bid th' imaginary train,

Swells from the right, that Gallia's towering pride Coinage of the poet's brain,

Bow'd to the British flag:" then spreads the sail, Nor only in effects appear,

And whilst his eager tongue pursues the tale But forms, and limbs, and features wear:

Of Albion's triumphs, round the Celtic steep Let festive Mirth, with flow'rets crown'd,

Winds to the bosom of Iberia's deep. Lightly tread the measur'd round :

There, as they glide, he sees with ardent eyes And Peace, that seldom knows to share

In crowds his country's former conquests rise; The statesman's friendly bowl, be there;

He leaves the lessening Groyne, beheld from far, While rosy Health, superior guest,

And Vigo, dreading still the sound of war; Loose to the zephyrs bares her breast :

Cascaia's turrets half in Tagus lost, And, to add a sweeter grace,

And Gades, and Calpe's oft-disputed coast: Give her soft Amelia's face.

Fair cause of endless hate !—But why essays Mason, why this dull delay?

Th' ambitious verse to grasp Britannia's praise? Haste, to Sion baste away.

Witness, O Earth, how wide her conquests run; There the Muse again shall ask,

Witness, thou rising and thou setting Sun; Nor thy hand forget its task;

Witness, ye winds that bear her on her way, Nor the lyre its strains refuse

And waves, that hail her sovereign of the sea ! To the patron of the Muse.

Yet ne'er should glory's generous heat too far
Provoke destructive, though successful war.
Th’ Almighty hand, which first her shores secur'd
With rolling oceans, and with rocks immur'd,
Which spread her plains, and bade her flocks in-.


Design'd Britania for the land of peace: WRITTEN IN 1748, AND PRINTED AMONG THE CAMBRIDGE Where Commerce only should exert her sway,

And musing Science trim th’ unfading bay.

Then O, though still from Albion's favour'd coasts From whom should Peace sincerer vows receive New Drakes, new Williams, lead her willing hosts; Than from those arts which by her presence live? Though many a realm, in many a fatal hour, Far from the noise of arms, in cells and shades, Has forc'd her to be brave, and felt her power: The sons of science wait th' inspiring maids : Yet still be peace her choice. With plenty crown'd, Yet not inglorious; if the cloister'd sage

Still may she shed the softer blessings round! Enrich the moral or historic page,

Nor fear we thence her innate worth should fail : The hero's acts from dark oblivion save,

Firm as her oaks, wben winds or waves assail, Or frame the precepts which make heroes brave. She'll stand the storm: though better pleas'd to

But now no more shall rude alarms molest The milder honours of a peaceful shade. (spread The learn'd, the virtuous, or the tuneful breast: Ye lands of slaves, whom each mad master's will No more the matron's pious tears deplore

Draws forth in myriads, and inures to kill! Her absent heir: the pensive bride no more What though, from use, your strengthen'd sinews With fancied dangers real fears create;

know Or Albion tremble for her William's fate:

To hurl the lance, or bend the stubborn bow; William, whose godlike arm and filial care What though, from use, your harden'd bodies bear Hush'd her loud griefs, and snatch'd her from despair. The march

laborious, and the midnight air; He came, he saw, and drove Rebellion forth Yet must ye still inglorious schemes pursue, To the bleak regions of her native north :

And feel a want which Britons never knew. There, on the confines of some barren shore, "T is in a juster cause our arms engage, While tempests howl, and oceans round her roar, Than weak ambition, or insatiate rage: The fiend, impatient of the galling chain,

'T is from a nobler source our spirits roll: Heaves her huge limbs, and bites her bonds in vain. Toil forms the limbs, but liberty the soul.



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RICHARD JAGO, descended of a Cornish family, was the third son of the rev. Richard Jago, rector of Beaudesert', in Warwickshire, by Margaret, the daughter of William Parker, gent, of Henly in Arden; and was born October 1, 1715. He received his classical education under the rev. Mr. Crumpton, an excellent schoolmaster, at Solihull, in the same county, but one whose severity our poet has thought proper to record in his Edge-Hill.

Hail, Solihull ! respectful I salute
Thy walls: more awful once, when, from the sweets
Of festive freedom, and domestic ease,
With throbbing heart, to the stern discipline
Of pedagogue morose I sad return'd,

At this school he formed an intimacy, which death only dissolved, with the poet Shenstone, whose letters to him have since been published. In their early days they probably exchanged their juvenile verses, and afterwards communicated to each other their more serious studies and pursuits. Somervile also appears to have encouraged our author's first attempts, which were made at a yet earlier period, when under his father's humble roof.

0 Beaudesert !.........
Haunt of my youthful steps ! where I was wont
To range, chanting my rude notes to the wind,
While Somervile disdain'd not to regard
With candid ear, and regulate the strain.

From school he was entered as a servitor of University College, Oxford, where Shenstone, then a commoner of Pembroke, the late rev. Richard Greaves, Mr. Whistler, and others who appear among Shenstone's correspondents, showed him every respect, notwithstanding the inferiority of his rank. A young man of whatever merit, who was Servitor, was usually visited, if visited at all, with secresy; but this prejudice is now 80

" Or Beldesert, a living conferred upon him by Lloyd, bishop of Worcester, in 1709. C.

much abolished, that the same circumspection is not thought necessary. He took his master's degree July 9, 1738, having entered into the church the year before, and served the

curacy of Snitterfield, near Stratford upon Avon. His father died in 1740. In 1744, or, according to Shenstone's Letters, in 1743, he married Dorothea Susanna Fancourt, daughter of the rev. Fancourt of Kilmcote in Leicestershire, a young lady whom he had known from ber childhood”.

For several years after his marriage, he resided at Harbury, to which living he was presented in 1746. Lord Willoughby de Broke gave him also the living of Chesterton, at a small distance from Harbury. These two benefices together did not produce more than one hundred pounds a year. In 1751 he had the misfortune to lose his wife, who appears to have been an amiable and accomplished woman, and was left with the care of seven very young children.

In 1754 lord Clare, the late earl Nugent, procured for him from Dr. Madox, bishop of Worcester, the vicarage of Snitterfield, worth about 1401. In 1759, he married a second wife, Margaret, daughter of James Underwood, esq. of Rudgely, in Staffordshire, who survived him, but by whom he had no children.

Some of his smaller pieces of poetry had before this time been inserted in Dodsley's Collection, but he put in for higher claims, by publishing the poem of Edge-Hill, in the year 1767 ; and in 1768 his more popular fable of Labour and Genius. In 1771, he was presented by his kind patron, lord Willoughby de Broke, to the living of Kilmcote, formerly held by his first wife's father, which being worth near 3001. a year, enabled him to maintain his family with ease and comfort, especially as he retained Snitterfield, and resigned only the trifling living of Harbury. During the latter part of his life, when the infirmities of age made their approach, he resided almost entirely at Snitterfield, where he amused himself with improving the vicarage house, and ornamenting his grounds, a taste he probably caught from Shenstone, but which he contrived to indulge at a much

less expense.

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He died after a short illness, May 8, 1781, aged sixty-five years, and was buried, according to his desire, in a vault which he had made for his family in the church at Snitterfield. Three of his daughters, by the first wife, survived him.

His personal character is thus given by his biographer" Mr. Jago, in his person, was about the middle stature. In his manner, like most people of sensibility, he appeared reserved among strangers : amongst his friends he was free and easy: and his conversation sprightly and entertaining. In domestic life, he was the affectionate husband, the tender parent, the kind master, the hospitable neighbour, and sincere friend ; and both by his doctrine and example, a faithful and worthy minister of the parish over which he presided."

In 1784, his poems, as corrected, improved, and enlarged by the author a short time before his death, with some additional pieces, were published by his friend, the late Jobn Scott Hylton, esq. of Lapall-House near Hales Owen, who was likewise the correspondent of Shenstone. To this publication Mr. Hylton prefixed some account of Jago's life, which, however meagre and unsatisfactory, is all that can now be procured. A very few particulars, indeed, but perhaps of no great importance, have been gleaned from Shenstone's Letters, &c. His life, it may be presumed, was that of a man not dependent on fame, and whose productions formed the amusement of his leisure hours. It would

2 Shenstone's Letters. Letter xlix. C.

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