The works of the poets of Great Britain and Ireland. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson

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The tear untaught,

Thofe meeteft mourners at a tomb.

II.
-Lo! as the furplic'd train draw near
To this lat manfon of mankind,
The fow fad bell, the fable bier,
In holy mofings wrap the mind!
And while their beam,
With trembling ftream,
Attending tapers faintly dart;

Each mouldering bone,
Each feulptur'd ftone,

Strikes mute inftruction to the heart!
II.

Now, let the facred organ blow,
With folemn pause, and founding flow:
Now, let the voice due measure keep,
In trains that figh, and words that weep:
Till all the vocal current blended roll,
Not to deprefs, but lift the foaring foul,
IV.

To lift it in the Maker's praife,

Who firft inform'd our frame with breath: And, after fome few ftormy days, Now, gracious, gives us o'er to Death. No King of Fears,

In him appears,

Who fhuts the feene of human woes: Beneath his hade

Already, I a thousand torments prove,
The thon and torments of divided love:
The rolling thought, impatient in the breaft;
The Auttering with on wing, that will not reft;
Defre, whofe kindled flames, undying, glow;
Knowledge of distant blifs, and prefent woe;
Unhufh'd, unfleeping all, with me they dwell,
Children of abfence, and of loving well!
Thefe pale the check, and cloud the chearlefs eye,
Swell the fwift tear, and heave the frequent figh:
These reach the heart, and bid the health decline;
And thefe, O Mira! these are truly mine.

She, whose sweet smile would gladden all the

grove,

Whofe mind is mufic, and whofe looks are love;
She, gentle power! victorious foftnefs !-She,
Mira, is far from hence, from love, and me;
Yet, in my every thought, her form I find,
Her looks, her words her world of charms com-
bin'd!

Sweetness is her's, and unaffected case;
The native wit, that was not taught to please.
Whatever foftly animates the face,

The eye's attemper'd fire, the winning grace,
Th' unftudy'd fmile, the blush that nature warms,
And all the graceful negligence of charms!
Ha! while I gaze, a thousand ardours rife ;
And my fir'd bofom flathes from my eyes,
Oh! melting mildnefs! miracle of charms!
Receive my foul within thofe folding arms!
On that dear bofom let my wishes reít-
Oh! fofter than the turtle's downy breast!
And fee! where Love himfelf is waiting near!
Here let me ever dwell-for heaven is here!

A WINTER'S DAY.

WRITTEN IN A STATE OF MELANCHOLY.

Now,

Ow, gloomy foul! look out-now comes
thy turn;

With thee, behold all ravag❜d nature mourn.
Hail the dim empire of thy darling night,
That spreads, flow-fhadowing, o'er the vanquish'd
light.

Look out, with joy; the Ruler of the day,
Faint, as thy hopes, emits a glimmering ray :
Already exil'd to the utmost sky,

Hither, oblique, be turn'd his clouded eye.
Lo! from the limits of the wintery pole,
Mountainous clouds, in rude confufion, roll:
In difmal pomp, now, hovering on their way,
To a fick twilight, they reduce the day.
And hark! imprion'd winds, broke loose, arife,
And roar their haughty triumphthrough the kies.
While the driven clouds, o'ercharg'd with floods
of rain,

And mingled lightning, burst upon the plain.
Now fee fad earth-like thine, her alter'd fate,
Like thee, the mourns her fad reverfe of fate!
Her finile, her wanton looks where are they now?
Faded her face, and wrapt in clouds her brow!

No more, th' ungrateful verdure of the plain; No more, the wealth-crown'd labours of the fwains

Thefe fcenes of blifs, no more upbraid my fate,
Torture my pining thought, and rouze my hate.
The leaf-clad foreft, and the tufted grove,
Erewhile the fafe retreats of happy love,
Stript of their honours, naked, now appear;
This is my foul! the winter of their year!
The little, noify fong fters of the wing,
All, hivering on the bough, forget to fing.
Hail! reverend Silence! with thy awful brow!
Be Mufic's voice, for ever mute-as now:
Let no intrusive joy my dead repose
Diflurbo pleasure difconcert my woes.

In this mofs-cover'd cavern, hopeless laid,
On the cold cliff, I'll lean my aching head;
And, pleas'd with Winter's wafte, unpitying, fee
All nature in an agony with me!

Rough, rugged rocks, wet marfhes, ruin'd tow

ers,

Bare trees, brown brakes, bleak heaths, and rufhy

moors,

Dead floods, huge cataracts, to my pleas'd eyes (Now I can smile!)-in wild disorder rife: And now, the various dreadfulness combin'd, Black melancholy comes, to doze my mind. See! Night's wifh'd fhades rife, fpreading through the air,

And the lone, hollow gloom, for me prepare!
Hail! folitary ruler of the grave!

Parent of terrors! from thy dreary cave!
Let thy dumb filence midnight all the ground,
And spread a welcome horror wide around.-
But bark! a fudden howl invades my ear!
The phantoms of the dreadful hour are near,
Shadows, from each dark cavern, now combine.
And ftalk around, and mix their yells with mine,
Stop, flying Time! repofe thy reftlefs wing;
Fix here nor haften to restore the fpring:
Fix'd my ill fate, fo fix'd let winter be
Let never wanton season laugh at me!

PROLOGUE

TO THE

MASQUE OF BRITANNIA,

SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, 1755, IN THE CHARACTER OF A SAILOR, FUDDLED AND TALKING TO HIMSELF.

He enters finging,

"How pleasant a failor's life paffes,,

Wfailor, half feas o'er's a pretty fellow ! if thou art, my boy, a little mellow!

What cheer ho? Do I carry too much fail?
*to the pit.
No-tight and trim-I fcud before the gale -
*he naggers for avar, then jisps.
But foftly though-the veffel feems to heel:
Steady! my boy-fhe must not fhew her keel.
And now thus ballafted-what courfe to fleer?
Shall I again to fea-and bare Mounfeer?
Or stay on fore, and toy with Sall and Sue-
Doft love 'em, boy by this right hand, I do!
A well-rigg'd girl is furely mott inviting:
There's nothing better, faith-fave flip and £ght-
ing:

*Some of the lives too were written by him.

For fhall we fons of beef and freedom stoop,
Or lower our flag to flavery and foup?
What! hall thefe pariy-vous make such a racket,
And we not lend a hand, to lace their jacket?
Still fhall Old England be your Frenchman's butt?
Whene'er he fhuffles, we fhould always cut,
I'll to 'em, faith-Avaft-before I go-
Have I not promis'd Sall to fee the fhow?
*Pulls out a play-bill.

From this fame paper we shall understand
What work's to night-'ll read your printed

hand!

But, firit refresh a bit-for faith I need it--
I'll take one fugar-plum*-and then I'll read it,
Takes fome tobacco.

He reads the play-bill of Zara,
which was acled that evening.

At the Theatre Royal-Drury-Lane--will be prefen-ta-ted a Tragedy calledSARAH.

I'm glad 'tis Sarab-Then our Sall fee may Her namefake's Tragedy: and as for me, I'll fleep as found, as if I were at sea.

To which will be added-a new Masque. Zounds! why a Mafque? We failors hate gri

maces:

WITH

7ITH no one talent that deferves applaufe;
With no one awkwardness that laughter
draws;

Who thinks not, but juft echoes what we fay,
A clock, at morn, wound up, to run a day:
His larum goes in one fmooth, fimple ftrain;
He ftops and then, we wind him up again.
Still hovering round the fair at fifty-four,
Unfit to love, unable to give o'er ;
A flesh-fly, that juft Hutters on the wing,
Awake to buz, but not alive to fting;
Brisk where he cannot, backward where he can;
The teazing ghost of the departed man.

SONG.

TO A SCOTCH TUNE, MARY SCOT,
I.

W His Wave, in lucid mazes, lead,

HERE Thames, along the daify'd meade,

Silent, flow, ferenely flowing,
Wealth on either fhore beitowing:
There, in a fafe, though finall retreat,
Content and Love have fix'd their feat:
Love, that counts his duty, pleasure;
Content that knows and hugs his treasure.
II.

From art, from jealoufy fecure;

As faith unblam'd, as friendship pure;
Vain opinion nobly scorning,
Virtue aiding, life adorning.

Fair Thames, along thy flowery fide,

May thofe whom truth and reafon guide,
All their tender hours improving,
Live like us, belov'd and loving!

TO MR. THOMSON.

ON HIS PUBLISHING THE SECOND EDITION OF HIS POEM, CALLED WINTER.

NHARM'D, and inftructed, by thy powerful

I have, unjuft, with-held my thanks too long:
This debt of gratitude, at length, receive,
Warmly fincere, 'tis all thy friend can give.

Thy worth new lights the Poet's darken'd name, And fhews it, blazing, in the brightest fame. Through all thy various Winter, full are found Magnificence of thought, and pomp of found, Clear depth of fenfe, expreffion's heightening grace,

And goodness eminent in power, and place!
For this, the wife, the knowing few, commend
With zealous joy for thou art Virtue's friend:
Ev'n age, and truth fevere, in reading thee,
That heaven infpires the Mufe, convinc'd, agree,
Thus I dare fing of merit, faintly known,
Friendlefs fupported by its felf alone:
For thofe, whofe aided will could lift thee high,
In fortune, fee not with Difcernment's eye.
Nor place, nor power, beftows the fight refin'd;
And wealth enlarges not the narrow mind.

How could't thou think of fuch, and write fo well?
Or hope reward, by daring to excell?
Unfkilful of the age! untaught to gain
Thofe favours, which the fawning bafe obtain !
A thousand fhameful arts, to thee unknown,
Falsehood, and Flattery, must be first thy own.
If thy lov'd country lingers in thy breaft,
Thou must drive out th' unprofitable guest:
Extinguish each bright aim, that kindles there,
And center in thyfelf thy every care.

But hence that vilenefs--pleas'd to charm man-
kind,

Caft each low thought of intereft far behind:
Neglected into noble fcorn-away
From that worn path, where vulgar Poets ftray:
Inglorious herd! profufe of venal lays!

And by the pride defpis'd, they stoop to praise!
Thou, careless of the ftatefman's fmile or frown,
Trend that ftrait way, that leads to fair renown,
By Virtue guided, and by Glory fir d,
And, by reluctant Envy, flow admir'd,
Dare to do well, and in thy boundless mind,
Embrace the general welfare of thy kind:

Her bloom was like the springing flower,
That fips the filver dew;
The rofe was budded in her cheek,
Juft opening to the view.
V.

But Love had, like the canker-worm,
Confum'd her early prime:
The rofe grew pale, and left her cheek;
She dy'd before her time.

VI.
Awake! the cry'd, thy true-love calls,
Come from her midnight-grave;
Now let thy pity hear the maid,
Thy love refus'd to fave.
'VII.
This is the dumb and dreary hour,
When injur'd ghofts complain;
When yawning graves give up their dead,
To haunt the taithlefs fwain.

VIII.
Bethink thee, William, of thy fault,
Thy pledge and broken oath!
And give me back my maiden-vow,
And give me back my troth.
IX.

Why did you promife love to me,
And not that promife keep?
Why did you fwear my eyes were bright,
Yet leave thofe eyes to weep?
X.

How could you fay my face was fair,

And yet that face forfake?
How could you win my virgin-heart,
Yet leave that heart to break?
XI.
Why did you fay, my lip was fweet,

And made the fcarlet pale?
And why did I, young witlefs maid !
Believe the flattering tale?

EPITAP H,

ON MR, AIKMAN, AND HIS ONLY SON; WHO
WERE BOTH INTERRED IN THE SAME
GRAVE.

DEA

EAR to the wife and good, difprais'd by none,
Here fleep in peace the father and the fon:
By virtue, as by nature, clofe ally'd,
The painter's genius, but without the pride;
Worth unambitious, wit afraid to fhine,
Honour's clear light, and Friendship's warmth
divine.

For foon the winter of the year,
And age, life's winter, will appear:
At this, thy living bloom muit fade;
As that will frip the verdant fhade.
Our taite of pleasure then is o'er;
The feather'd fongfters love no more:
And when they droop, and we decay,
Adieu the fhades of Eirdermay!

AKENSIDE'S POEMS.

THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION.

THE GENERAL ARGUMENT.

THE pleasures of the imagination proceed either from natural objects, as from a flourishing grove, a clear and murmuring fountain, a calm fea by meon light; or from aworks of art, fuch as a noble edifice; a musical tune, a flatue, a picture, a poem. In treating of these pleasures, we must begin with the former clafs, they being original to the other; and nothing more being neceffary, in order to explain them, than a view of our ratural inclination toward greatness and beauty, and of thofe appearances, in the world around us, to which thot inclination is adapted. This is the fubject of the first book of the following fee a But the pleasures which we receive from the elegant arts, from mufe, fculpture, painting, and foetry, are much more various and complicated. Ir them besides greatness and beauty, or forms proper to the imagination) we find interwoven frequent reprefentations of truth, of virtue and vice, of circumflances proper to move us with laughter, er to excite in us pity, fer, and the other paffions These moral and intellectual objects are described in the second book, to which the third properly belongs as an epise e, though too large to have been included in it.

With the above-mentioned causes of pleasure, which are univerfal in the course of human life, and appertain 20 ur higher faculties, many others do gererally concur, more limited in their operation, or of an inferior origin: Tuch are the novelty of objects, the affeciation of ideas, affections of the bodily fenfes, influences of education, national habits, and the like. To illufirate these, and form the whole to determine the character of a perfect tafie, is the argument of the fourth book. VOL. VII.

Hitherto the pleasures of the imagination belong to the human fpecies in general. But there are certain particular men av ofe imagination is endowed with powers, and susceptible of pleasures, which the generality of mankind never participate, these are the men of genius, defined by nature to excell in one or other of the arts already mentioned. It is propofed therefore, in the last place, to delineate that genius which in fome degree appears common to them all; yet with a more peculiar confuleration of poetry: inufmuch as poetry is the most extensive of thoje arts, the most philofophical, and the moi weful.

BOOK THE FIRST.

MDCCLVII.

THE subject prop fed. Dedication. The ideas of the Supreme Being, the exemplars of all things. The variety of conftitution in the minds of men; with its final cause. The general character of a fine imagination. All the immediate pleasures of the human imagination proceed either from greatrefs or beauty in external objects. The pleasure from greatness, with its final cause. The natu ral connectin of beauty with truth and good. The different orders of beauty in different bjects. The infinite and all-comprehending form of beauty, which belongs to the divine mind. The partial and artificial forms of beauty, which belong to inferier intellectual beings. The origin and general conduct of beauty in man. The fuberdination of local beauties to the beauty of the univerfe. Conclufion.

WITH

what inchantment nature's goodly

fcene

Attracts the fenfe of mortals; how the mind
For its own eye doth objects nobler still
Prepare; how men by various leffons learn
To judge of beauty's praife; what raptures fill 5
The breaft with fancy's native arts indow'd
And what true culture guides it to renown;
My verfe unfolds. Ye gods, or godlike powers
Ye guardians of the facred task, attend
Propitious. Hand in hand around your bard
Move in majestic measures, leading on
His doubtful step through many a folemn path
Confcious of fecrets which to human fight
Ye only can reveal. Be great in him:
And let your favour mat him wife to speak
Of all your wonderous empire; with a voice
So temper'd to his theme, that thofe, who hear,
May yield perpetual homage to yourfelves.
Thou chief, O daughter of eternal Love,
Whate'er thy name; or Mufe, or Grace, ador'd 20
By Grecian prophets; to the fons of heaven
Known, while with deep amazement thou doft
there

The perfect councils read, the ideas old,

Of thine omnifcient father; known on earth
By the ftill horror and the blissful tear
With which thou feizeft on the foul of man;
Thou chief, Poetic Spirit, from the banks
Of Avon, whence thy holy fingers cull
Fresh flowers and dews to fprinkle on the turf
Where Shakespeare lies, be prefent. And with

thee

By the light glances of her magic eye,

She blends and fhifts at will through countless

Let Fiction come; on her aerial wings
Wafting ten thousand colours; which in sport
* Truth is here taken, not iwa logical, but in a
mixed and popular fenfe, or for awhat has been called
the truth of things, denoting as well their natural
and regular condition, as a proper eflimate or judg-|
ment concerning them.

Nor heedful of their end? yet ferious truth
Her empire o'er the calm, fequefter'd theme 55
Afferted foon; while falfehood's evil brood,
Vice and deceitful pleasure, fhe at once
Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil
Drew to the better caufe. Maturer aid
Thy friendship added, in the paths of life,
The buiy paths, my unaccustom'd feet
Preferving: nor to truth's recefs divine,
Through this wide argument's unbeaten space,
Withholding furer guidance: while by turns
We trac'd the fages old, or while the queen
Of fciences (whom manners and the mind
Acknowledge) to my true companion's voice
Not unattentive, o'er the wintery lamp
Inclin'd her fceptre, favouring. Now the fates
Have other tasks impos'd. To thee, my friend,
The miniftry of freedom and the faith
Of popular decrees, in early youth,
Not vainly they committed. Me they fent
To wait on pain; and filent arts to urge,
Inglorious: not ignoble; if my eares,
To fuch as languish on a grievous bed,
Eafe and the fweet forgetfulnefs of ill
Conciliate; nor delightless; if the Mufe,
Her fades to vifit and to tafte her fprings, -
If fome diftinguifh'd hours the bounteous Mufe
Impart, and grant (what the and the alone 81
Can grant to mortals) that my hand thofe wreaths
Of fame and honeft favor, which the blefs'd
Wear in Elyfium, and which never felt
The breath of envy or malignant tongues,
That thefe my hand for thee and for myself
May gather. Meanwhile, O my faithful friend,
O early chofen, ever found the fame,
And trufted and belov'd; once more the verfe
Long destin'd, always obvious to thine ear,

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The works of the poets of Great Britain and Ireland. With prefaces ..., Volume 7