תמונות בעמוד

Thou marchest down o'er Delos' hills confest, With all thy arrows arm’d, in all thy glory drest. Like thee, the hero does his arms employ,

The raging Python to destroy,
And give the injur'd nations peace and joy.


From fairest years, and Time's more happy stores,

Gather all the smiling hours ;
Such as with friendly care have guarded

Patriots and kings in rightful wars ;
Such as with conquest have rewarded

Triumphant victors' happy cares :
Such as story has recorded
Sacred to Nassau's long renown,
For countries sav'd, and battles won.


March them again in fair array,
And bid them form the happy day,
The happy day design'd to wait
On William's fame and Europe's fate.

Let the happy day be crown'd
With great event, and fair success ;

No brighter in the year be found, But that which brings the victor home in peace.

Again thy godhead we implore,

Great in wisdom as in power ;
Again, for good Maria's sake, and ours,

Choose out other smiling hours ;
Such as with joyous wings have fled,

When happy counsels were advising ;
Such as have lucky omens shed

O'er forming laws, and empires rising:


Such as many courses ran,

Hand in hand, a goodly train,
To bless the great Eliza's reign;

And in the typic glory show,
What fuller bliss Maria shall bestow


As the solemn hours advance,

Mingled send into the dance
Many fraught with all the treasures,

Which thy eastern travel views ;
Many wing'd with all the pleasures,

Man can ask, or Heav'n diffuse :
That great Maria all those joys may know,
Which, from her cares, upon her subjects flow.


For thy own glory sing our sov'reign's praise,

God of verses and of days :
Let all thy tuneful sons adorn

Their lasting work with William's name ;
Let chosen Muses yet unborn
Take great Maria for their future theme:

Eternal structures let them raise,
On William’s and Maria’s praise :
Nor want new subject for the song;

Nor fear they can exhaust the store ;

Till Nature's musie lies unstrung; Til thou, great God, shalt lose thy double pow'r; And touch thy lyro, and shoot thy beams no more:




ELIA and I the other day

Walk'd o'er the sand-hills to the sea :
The setting sun adorn'd the coast,

His beams entire, his fierceness lost:
And on the surface of the deep,
The winds lay only not asleep:
The nymph did like the scene appear,
Serenely pleasant, calmly fair :
Soft fell her words, as flew the air.
With secret joy I heard her say,
That she would never miss one day
A walk so fine, a sight so gay.

But, oh the change! the winds grow high ;
Impending tempests charge the sky;


See Longinus's Comparison of the Odyssey to the Setting Sun. Ed. Pearce, 8vo. p. 56.

“Whether Prior had the latter words in view, one cannot say; but it is difficult to conceive how the same image could be more accurately or forcibly transferred from one language to another. That lively and most agreeable writer was very fond of copying from the Grecian school, but always in such a manner as to shew the master, where he even meant to imitate, of which this little poem is a beautiful instance: the learned will easily trace in the Looking-Glass of Prior the Poet and his Muse (as it may be inscribed) of Moschus. CAPRICE is the general subject of both poems, and many images of the latter are transplanted into the foriner.”—Note to Eunomus, 1774, vol. iv. p. 108.

[ocr errors]


The lightning flies; the thunder roars ;
And big waves lash the frighten'd shores.
Struck with the horror of the sight,
She turns her head, and wings her flight;
And trembling vows, she'll ne'er again
Approach the shore, or view the main.

Once more at least look back, said I;
Thyself in that large glass descry:
When thou art in good humour drest;
When gentle reason rules thy breast ;
The sun upon the calmest sea
Appears not half so bright as thee :
'Tis then, that with delight I rove
Upon the boundless depth of love ;
I bless my chain; I hand my oar;
Nor think on all I left on shore.

But when vain doubt, and groundless fear
Do that dear foolish bosom tear;
When the big lip, and wat’ry eye
Tell me, the rising storm is nigh:
'Tis then, thou art yon angry main,
Deform’d by winds, and dash'd by rain ;
And the poor sailor, that must try
Its fury, labours less than I.

Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make;
While Love and Fate still drive me back :
Foro'd to dote on thee thy own way,
I chide thee first, and then obey.
Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh
I with thee, or without thee, die.







NHILE from the skies the ruddy sun

And rising night the ev'ning shade

While pearly dews o'erspread the fruitful field,
And closing flowers reviving odours yield;
Let us, beneath these spreading trees, recite
What from our hearts our Muses


indite. Nor need we, in this close retirement, fear, Lest any swain our am'rous secrets hear.


SILVIA. To ev'ry shepherd I would mine proclaim ; Since fair Aminta is my softest theme: A stranger to the loose delights of love, My thoughts the nobler warmth of friendship prove : And, while its pure and sacred fire I sing, Chaste goddess of the groves, thy succour bring.


Propitious God of Love, my breast inspire With all thy charms, with all thy pleasing fire:

Afterwards the once celebrated Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe. It is said Mr. Prior once made his addresses to this lady.

« הקודםהמשך »