"Late was the houre, whenas the knight was tould Of stranger guest: Go, bid him welcome here; What seeks he there?' quoth he. Perdie, what would

You seek?' says to the boy the messenger.

To see the knight,' quoth he, I but requere.' Syr knight, be scornes to come,' the servant said. Go, bid him still,' quoth he, 'to welcome cheer:' But all contrarywise the faytor made, [fed. Till rage enflamd the boy; and still his rage they

"Soothd by the murmurs of a plaintive streame,
A wyld romantic dell its fragrance shed;
Safe from the thonder showre and scorching beame
Their faerie charmes the summer bowres displaid;
Wyld by the bancks the bashfull cowslips spread,
And from the rock above each ivied seat
The spotted foxgloves hung the purple head,
And lowlie vilets kist the wanderers feet: [sweet.
Sure never Hyblas bees roovd through a wilde so

"As winds the streamlet surpentine along,
So leads a solemn walk its bowry way,
The pale-leaved palms and darker limes among,
To where a grotto lone and secret lay;

The yellow broome, where chirp the linnets gay, Waves round the cave; and to the blue-streakd skyes

A shatterd rock towres up in fragments gray :
The she-goat from its height the lawnskepe eyes,
And calls her wanderd young, the call each banck
replies.

"Here oft the knight had past the summers morne
What time the wondering boy to manhood rose,
When fancy first her lawnskepes gan adorne,
And reasons folded buddes their flowres disclose,

An houre to thought and reasons whispers still;
Whiles, as a nightly vision boding ill,
Seen with pale glymps by lonely wandering swayne,
Truth, gleaming through the fogs of biast will,
Frowns on him sterne, and honest shame gins fayne
In her reflective glass his lifes ignoble straine."
"His earlie hopes she shews and shews againe:

How oft hast thou,' she cries, 'indignant viewd
The titled cypher and his solemn traine,
The busie face, and dull solicitude,
That, ever plodding in important mood,
Has not a soul to reach one noble aim,
Nor soul, nor wish-whose vacant mind endewd
With not one talent, yet would lewdly claim
For his vile leaden bust the sacred wreath of fame:

"Who to the patrons lawrells would aspire,
By labouring in the British clime to rear
Those arts that quencht prowd Romes partrician
fire,

And bowd her prone beneath the gothick spear;
Illustrious cares! befitting patriot peer!
Italian sing-song and the eunuchs squall!
Such arts as soothd the base unmanly ear
Of Greece and Persia bending to their fall;
When freedome bled unwept, and scorn'd was
glorys call.

"While these thy breast with scorn indignant fird,
What other views before thee would disclose!
As fancy painted and thy wish inspird
What glorious scenes beneath thy shades arose!
Britannias guardians here dispell her woes,
Forming her laws, her artes, with godlike toil;
There Albion, smyling on their learnd repose,
Sees manly genius in their influence smile,
And spread the hallowd streames of virtue round the

[ile.

houres,

Such views still opening, still extending higher,
Cares whence the state derives its firmest powres,
And scenes where friendship sheds her purest fire;
And did, ah shame! these hopes in vain expire
A morning dreame!-As lorn the spendthrift stands,
Who sees the fieldes bequeathd him by his sire,
His own no more, now reap'd by strangers hands;
So languid must I view faire honours fertile lands.'

"Silence would then ensue; perhaps reclind
On the greene margin of the streame he lay,
While softlie stealing on the languid mind
Th' ideal scene would hold a moments sway,
And the domestick houre all smyles display,
Where fixt extreme the fond discourse inspires:
Now through his heart would glide the sprightlie ray
Where married love bids light his purest fires,
Where elegance presides, and wakes the young de-
sires.

"Strait to his brawling lemman turns his mind; Shock'd he beholds the odious colours rise,

Where selfishnesse, low pride and spleen combind,
Bid every anguishd thought his mate despise,
His mate unformd for sweete affections ties:
Grovling, indelicate-Stung to the heart
His indignation heaves in stifled sighs;
But soon his passion bursts with sudden start:
His children strike his thoughts with lively piersant

smart.

"The mothers basenesse in their deeds he sees,
And all the wounded father swells his breast:
Suddein he leaves the cave and mantling trees,
And up the furzie hill his footsteps haste,
While sullenly he soothes his soul to rest:
Meantime the opening prospect wide he gains,
Where, crownd with oake, with meadow flowres
ydrest,

His British chaplet, buxom summer reigns,
Aud waves his mantle greene farre round the smyl-
ing plains.

"Still as he slow ascends, the bounteous farms,
And old grey towres of rural churches rise,
The fieldes still lengthening shew their crowded
In fayre perspective and in richest guise: [charms,
His sweeping scythe the white-sleevd mower plies,
The plowman through the fallow guides his teame,
Acrosse the wheaten fielde the milkmayde hies,
To where the kine, foreby the reedy streame,
With frequent lowe to plaine of their full udders

seeme.

"See, now the knight arrives where erst an oak
Dan Fols blustering stormes did long repell,
Till witchd it was, when by an headlong shock,
As the hoar fathers of the village tell,
With horrid crash on All Saints eve it fell:
But from its trunk soon sprouting saplings rose,
And round the parent stock did shadowy swell;
Now, aged trees, they bend their twisted boughs,
And by their moss-greene roots invite the swains
repose.

"Here on a bending knare he pensive leans,
And round the various lawnskepe raunge his eyes:
There stretch the corney fieldes in various greens,
Farre as the sight: there, to the peaceful skyes

Behind the wood a dark and heathy lea,
With sheep faire spotted, farre extended lies,
With here and there a lonlie blasted tree;
And from between two hills appears the duskie sea.

"Bright through the fleeting clouds the sunny ray
Shifts oer the fieldes, now gilds the woody dale,
The flockes now whiten, now the ocean bay
Beneath the radiance glistens clear and pale;
And white from farre appears the frequent sail
By traffick spread. Moord where the land divides,
The British red-cross waving in the gale,
Hulky and black, a gallant warre ship rides,
And over the greene wave with lordly port presides.

Long gazd the knight, with fretfull languid air;
"Fixt on the bulwark of the British powre
Then thus, indulging the reflective houre,
Pours fourth his soul: Oh, glorious happy care!
To bid Britannias navies greatly dare,
And through the vassal seas triumphant reign,
To either India waft victorious warre,

To join the poles in trades unbounded chain,
And bid the British throne the mighty whole sustain.

"With what superior lustre and command
May stedfast zeal in Albions senate shine!
What glorious laurells court the patriots hand!
How base the hand that can such meed decline!
And was, kind fate! to snatch these honours mine?
Yes! greene they spred, and fayre they bloomd

for me;

Thy birth and duty bade the chief be thine;
Oh lost, vain trifler, lost in each degree!
Thy country never turnd her hopeful eyes to thee.

"Yet, how the fielde of worth luxurious smiles!
Nor Africk yeilds, nor Chilys earth contains
Such funds of wealth as crown the plowmans toils,
Even on her mountains cheerful plenty reigns,
And tinge with waving gold Britannias plains;
And wildly grand her fleecy wardrobe spreads:
What noble meed the honest statesman gains,
Who through these publique nerves new vigour
sheds,

And bids the useful artes exalt their drooping heads:

"Who, founding on the plough and humble loome,
His countrys greatnesse, sees, on every tide,
Her flects the umpire of the world assume,
And spread her justice as her glories wide-
Oh wonder of the world, and fairest pride,
Britannias fleet! how long shall pity mourn
And stain thy honours? from his weeping bride
And starving babes, how long inhuman torn
Shall the bold sailor mount thy decks with heart for-
lorn!

"Forlorn with sinking heart his task he plies,
His brides distresse his restlesse fancy sees,
And fixing on the land his earnest eyes,
Cold is his breast and faint his manly knees.
Ah! hither turn, ye sons of courtlie ease,
And let the brave mans wrongs, let interest plead ;
Say, while his arme his countrys fate decrees,
Say, shall a fathers anguish be his meed;
His wrongs unnerve his -oul, and blight each mighty
deed?

"Whatever party boasts thy glorious name,
O thou reservd by Heavens benign decree
To blast those artes that quench the British flame,
And bid the meanest of the land be free;
Oh, much humanity shall owe to thee!
And shall that palm unenvyd still remain!
Yet hear, ye lordlings, each severitie,
And every woe the labouring tribe sustain,
Upbraids the man of powre, and dims his honours
vain.'

While grief and shame by turns his bosom fill.
And now, perchd prowdlie on the topmast spray,
The sootie blackbird chaunts his vespers shrill;
While twilight spreads his robe of sober grey,
And to their bowres the rooks loud cawing wing
their way:

"The cunning huntsman now cheers on his pack, The lurking hare is in an instant slain: Then opening loud, the beagles scent the track Right to the hill, while thundring through the plain With blythe huzzas advance the jovial train: And now the groomes and squires, cowherds and boys,

Beat round and round the brake; but all in vain
Their poles they ply, and vain their oathes and noise,
Till plunging in his den the terrier fiercely joys.

"Expell'd his hole, upstarts to open sky
The villain bold, and wildly glares around;
Now here, now there, he bends his knees to fly,
As oft recoils to guard from backward wound,
His frothie jaws he grinds—with horrid sound
The pack attonce rush on him: foming ire,
Fierce at his throte and sides hang many a hound;
His burning eyes flash wylde red sparkling fire,
Whiles weltering on the sword his breath and
strength expire.

The purple radiance shifts and dies away;
The willows with a deeper green imprest
Nod o'er the brooks; the brooks with gleamy ray
Glide on, and holy peace assumes her woodland
sway.

"All was repose, all but syr Martyns breast; There, passions tearing gusts tempestuous rise: 'Are these,' he murmurs, 'these my friends! the best That croud, my hall! the sonnes of madning noise, Whose warmest friendship with the revel dies? Whose glee it were my dearest peace destroy, Who with my woes could sport, my wrongs despise; Could round my coffin pledge the cup of joy, And on my crimes even then their base tongued witt employ?

"Whose converse, oft as fulsom baudrie fails,
Takes up the barkings of impiety,
The scepticks wild disjointed dreams retails,
These modern ravings of philosophy,
Made drunk; the cavil, the detected ly,
The witt of ignorance, and gloss unfair,
Which honest dullness would with shame deny;
The hope of baseness vaumpt in candours air:
Good Heaven! are such the friends that to my
hearth repair?

"The man of worth shuns thy reputelesse dore;
Even the old peasant shakes his silverd head,
Old saws and stories babbling evermore,
And adding still, Alas, those dayes be fled !'
Here indiguation pausd, when, up the glade,
Pale through the trees his household smoke ascends;
Wakd at the sight, his brothers wrongs upbraid
His melting heart, and grief his bosome rends:
And now the keene resolve its gleaming comfort
lends.

"Perdie, now were I bent on legends fine
My knight should rise the flowre of chivalrie,
Brave as sir Arthegal or Valentine,
Another Saint George England then should see,
Britannias genius should his Sabra bee,
Chaind to the rock by dragon to be slain;
But he the virgin princesse soon should free,
And stretch the monster breathless on the plain;
Bribery, the dragon huge, should never rise again.

"Eke should he, freed from foul enchanters spell,
Escape his false duessas magicke charms,
And folly quaid, yclepd an hydra fell,
Receive a beauteous lady to his arms;
While bardes and minstrales chaunt the soft alarms
Of gentle love, unlike his former thrall:
Eke should I sing, in courtly cunning terms,
The gallant feast servd up by seneshall,

To knights and ladies gent in painted bowre and hall.

And does of human frailtie soothly tell,
Unmeet it were indulge the daintie flights
Of phantasie, that never yet befell:
Uneath it is long habits to expell,

Ne may the best good heart its bliss secure,
Ne may the lively powre of judging well,
In arduous worthy deed long time endure,
Where Dissipation once has fixt her footing sure.

High Jove beheld her from his starry seat,
And calld her Dissipation: Wylde and young
Still shalt thou be,' he said; and this thy fate,
On man thy sleights employ, on man that prowd
ingrate.

"All happinesse he claims his virtues due,
And holds him injurd when my care denies
The fondling wish, whence sorrow would ensue;
And idle still his prayers invade my skies;
But bold and arduous must that virtue rise
Which I accept, no vague inconstant blaze.
Then be it thine to spread before his eyes
Thy changing colours, and thy wyld-fire rays,
And fruitlesse still shall be that virtue thou canst
daze.'

"So swore the god, by gloomy Styx he swore:
The Fates assented, and the demon flew
Right to the seats of men. The robe she wore
Was starrd with dew-drops, and of palest blue;
Faire round her head playd many a beauteous hue,
As when the rainbow through the bean-flowres plays;
The fleeting tints the swaynes with wonder view,
And ween to snatch a prize beneath the rays;
But through the meadows dank the beauteous me-
teor strays.

"So shone the nymph, and prankt in pleasures guize With wylie traines the sonnes of Earth besett;

Goodnesse of heart before her yawns and dies,
And Friendship ever feels the drowsie fitt
Just when its powre to serve could serve a whitt.
And still behind her march Remorse and Shame,
That never will their yron scourge remitt,
Whenso the fiend resigns her thralls to them:
Sad case, I weet, where still oneselfe oneselfe must
blame.

"Long had the knight to her his powres resignd;
In wanton dalliance first her nett she spred,
And soon in mirthfull tumult on his mind
She softlie stole: yet, while at times he sped
To contemplations bowre, his sight she fled;
Ne on the mountainett with him durst bide;
Yet homewards still she mett him in the glade,
And in the social cup did slily glide,

And still his best resolves eftsoons she scatterd wide.

"And now, as slowly sauntering up the dale
He homeward wends, in heavie musefull stowre,
The smooth deceiver gan his heart assail;
His heart soon felt the fascinating powre:
Old Cambrias genius markt the fatal houre,
And tore the girlond from her sea-greene hair;
The conscious oakes above him rustling lowre,
And through the branches sighs the gloomy air,
As when indignant Jove rejects the flamens prayer.

"The Dryads of the grove, that oft had fird
His opening mind with many a rapturd dream,
That oft his evening wanderings had inspird,
All by the silent hill or murmuring stream,
Forsake him now; for all as lost they deem:
So home he wends; where, wrapt in jollitie,
His hall to keepen holiday mote seem,
And with the hunters soon full blythe was he,
The blythest wight of all that blythesome companie.